Cho Must Die a Horrible, Painful Death

Chapter Eleven: Mixed Up World

Late October gave way to November; the leaves fell from the trees and littered the ground with a canvas of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns. Like he did every year, Dean Thomas pulled out his watercolours and started to paint the landscape.

Ron and Hermione started taking long walks on the grounds, getting into the occasional leaf fight. Everyone knew when one of their walks had degenerated into a tumble in the leaves - they always came back and disappeared into a bedroom or broom closet, and didn't emerge for several hours.

Neville Longbottom finally asked Ginny Weasley out on a date and they spent the first Hogsmeade weekend sipping Butterbeers and discussing their past adventures. He told her about his parents, and she described what it felt like when Tom Riddle had taken over her mind and body.

Ron freaked out when he found out about them, of course, having suddenly realised that his baby sister had been involved with all of his roommates, in turn. He spent several nights sleeping in the Common Room, convinced that all the other boys were lusting after his sister in their dreams.

Secretly he hoped that Neville and his sister would stay together - he was good for her.

Harry and Draco played against each other in the first Quidditch game of the season; Harry caught the Snitch, of course. Draco looked ready to kill him, but that wasn't anything new.

Harry stayed indoors most of the time. Aside from attending classes, he spent most of his time napping, making up for the hours he lay awake in his bed each night, or reading, much to Hermione's delight. He wouldn't tell her what he was reading, but she snuck a glance once or twice, and deduced that he was reading an odd mixture of Muggle novels and research books on Dark Magic. Reading for leisure and research - Harry Potter? She wondered if it had something to do with Voldemort. Or Draco Malfoy.

And as the days grew shorter and the dark took over the land more with each passing day, a change came over the school. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stopped fighting. In fact, they came to avoid each other altogether. The squabbles in the halls stopped, as did the derisive looks across the Great Hall and the acts of sabotage during Potions class. The other students were puzzled, of course, as this was unprecedented behaviour, but they were pleased, nonetheless. They didn't have to worry about their distracting spats in class, in the halls, at dinner.

Hermione tried questioning Harry several times about the blow job he'd wanted to give Draco Malfoy. She wondered if he had done it, or tried, and had been rebuked by the Slytherin. That might explain their silence. Or perhaps he hadn't done it at all, like he claimed, and the silence was just natural. She doubted it, but Harry wouldn't tell her otherwise, and Ron had tried and failed to get any information out of him.

Most unprecedented of all, however, was Draco Malfoy's new predicament. He was failing Potions. Class after class, he sat at his desk, distracted and dazed, and fudged his potion in one way or another. Professor Snape saw his best student slipping, but did not call him out to the whole class. That honor was reserved for Harry Potter.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's droning voice cut through the sound of simmering cauldrons. "You clearly have not been following my instructions."

Harry stared at him, agape. "Excuse me, sir? I made sure to do everything correctly -"

"What colour would you say your potion is, Mr. Potter?" Snape cut him off.

"Um... orange?"

"Orange?"

"Yes, orange."

"Then you've clearly done something wrong. Look at Miss Granger's potion, what colour would you say that is?"

"I couldn't say, sir."

"Puce, Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger's Veritaserum is puce. And when she adds the final ingredient, it will turn clear. Yours, on the other hand, will not. And in the end, you'll end up either getting no information from your subject or killing them, Mr. Potter. And that would be a pity."

He strode back towards his desk. "No points today, Potter."

Draco smirked in his seat in the back of the class. He was simply glad that Snape chose to ignore his mess of a potion, once again. His was positively neon yellow.

Snape continued his survey of the room before stalking briskly to the front of the classroom and turning around with a flourish. "You're all hopeless, the lot of you." He scowled. "At this rate, none of you," Snape paused, "save Miss Granger," he continued smoothly, though he didn't look happy that Hermione was his star pupil, "will achieve even a satisfactory NEWT. How any of you managed to get into this class is beyond me," he huffed. A heavy silence hung in the dungeon.

"Well," he huffed impatiently, "get out of my sight, all of you."

The class filed out ahead of Draco, who was relieved to have the day over with. He still had enough time to get in some flying, followed by wanking in the shower. But he wouldn't think about Potter. Not at all.

"Draco," Snape sounded as Draco approached his desk, "I wish to speak to you."

"Now, sir?"

"Yes, Malfoy, now," Snape snarled before calming himself, settling his shoulders back and dusting off his robes. "Follow me into my chambers, Draco."

Great, Snape's private office. This couldn't be good

Snape strode over to his desk and sat down in his high backed Victorian chair.

Draco hoped that Snape didn't want to talk about taking the Dark Mark. His mother had practically had an aneurysm when Draco had denied the ugly thing. The only reason Draco had lived to see school was Voldemort's preference to keep his mini-Death Eaters on Hogwarts grounds as long as possible, never mind that Draco wasn't keen on taking the Mark ever.

But, Voldemort fancied the lot of them to be perfect spies, living amongst Dumbledore and his precious Gryffindors. Well, that's what he thought Snape was as well, a great spy, and he was rubbish at it. As far as he could tell, Voldemort hadn't received any valuable Intel from Dumbledore's side. Not to mention that Dumbledore probably knew perfectly well what Voldemort wanted, which was the only reason Snape and students like Draco could stay on. Draco wondered if Dumbledore knew that Snape had the Mark.

After all, the man was supposed to be omniscient, creepy old thing that he was - always lurking around the castle and surprising Draco with cryptic messages. Draco swore the old pervert went around looking to catch students having it off with each other. Once, after he'd been messing around with some Hufflepuff in a broom closet, he'd run into the ancient wizard, who'd gone on about the eyes having walls and had winked at him. Walls with eyes, indeed. What a pervert.

Certainly the old coot knew about Snape, then - Draco didn't see how he couldn't. And Voldemort wasn't stupid - he had to know that Dumbledore knew, so what were they playing at?

Snape was staring at Draco now, hands crossed as he sat behind his desk, back straight as a rod, peering at Draco with his hooded-black eyes. Draco took this as a sign to stop pondering Snape's alliances and sit down.

"There's something going on between you and Potter," Snape intoned matter-of-factly.

"No there's not," Draco gave a well-practiced derisive snort.

"There clearly is," Snape stared at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about it? With you? Professor Snape? Um, no, I think I'll pass," Draco finished snidely, rolling his eyes.

"Have you fucked him yet?"

"What?!?!?!" Draco started, jumping back in his chair in shock. "Ugh, no!!!! How could you... you're... Professor... WHAT?!?!?"

Professor Snape continued to stare at Draco seriously, seemingly becoming a different person from what Draco had ever seen. "It's a simple question, Draco. You two clearly have some unresolved sexual tension and, frankly, I'd rather you shag your brains out on your own time and not bring your issues into my classroom."

"We don't HAVE sexual issues, Professor Snape, and, frankly, I find it rather weird talking to you about this," Draco gestured wildly. Suddenly Draco could see the man as a Death Eater beside his father. He was quite creepy when he wanted to be.

"Mister Malfoy, listen to me, you're my student and the son of a man I've known since school, I feel obligated to attend to your well-being. I see what you're doing to yourself and I can honestly say that I've been in your position and that you should just get these feelings out..."

"Feelings? What feelings? There are no feelings," Draco scoffed, his icy demeanor belying panic at being found out and abhorrence at Snape talking about feelings.

"Right, Draco. This... thing you have going on with Potter..."

"There's no thing."

"Whatever it is. I think..."

Was Snape trying to give him advice? About his sex life? This had to stop, Draco thought. "I don't even like him, you know. And you don't have to tell me to stay away from him, 'cause I know, okay? Father told me when we started Hogwarts to stay away from him, but -" Draco rambled on before Snape interrupted him.

"Don't interrupt, Draco. It's an unbecoming habit. As I was saying, I think you should continue to see him."

"What?" Draco recoiled in his chair again, hitting the back of his head on the top of the high backed chair. Massaging the back of his head, which was now throbbing uncomfortably, he continued. "Are you insane?"

He was - Snape was insane. He was asking him to... see Harry Potter. Or, dear God, shag Harry Potter.

"If this is some ploy you and the Dark Lord have cooked up to get information from Potter, I am NOT doing it. I'm not prostrating myself before bloody Lord Voldemort by letting him... ugh, NO!"

"This has nothing to do with the Dark Lord - and don't take his name in vain, Draco. It's disrespectful," Snape scolded softly behind a knowing smile.

"You sound like my father."

"I suppose he's rubbed off on me," Snape shrugged. "And you're not going to let Potter do what to you?"

He was smiling. Was he supposed to do that? Draco had never seen Snape smile like that. Save when he'd humiliated Potter better than usual...

"Draco?" he questioned the silent boy.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Draco mumbled. "You know, I don't even like boys."

"Can you, Mister Malfoy, really say you don't like boys?"

"Yes, absolutely. I do NOT like boys."

Snape chuckled. Why was he chuckling?

Draco continued, glaring at the older man. "Least of all Harry Potter. That's just... wrong."

"Draco, I'm only saying that you should embrace this... thing between you two. Argue with him, fight him, shag him, I don't care, but your schoolwork has been suffering and I shan't ignore your abysmal performance in my class much longer. Figure it out."

***

Bloody fucking hell. Snape was on drugs... there was something wrong with him. Maybe it wasn't Snape at all and his father had polyjuiced himself so he could keep an eye on Draco. That had to be the explanation because Snape had never been so personal with him, and in a rather disturbing way he seemed to have been channeling Lucius. And why did Snape want Draco to have it off with Harry Potter? And he laughed when Draco had said that he didn't like boys. Was it so hard to believe that Draco wasn't a pouf?

Draco stormed back to the Slytherin common room, incensed. The first person he ran into was Blaise Zabini.

"Blaise!" Draco practically shouted.

"Hello Draco, how are you?"

"Off my bloody rocker, it seems."

"Oh. Well, you look normal to me."

"Figures, coming from..." Draco trailed off. Blaise was a boy, wasn't he? And Draco wasn't attracted to him in the slightest. And surely Blaise was so nutty, that no one would believe him even if he told....

"Kiss me," Draco commanded, looking around the common room to be sure no one was paying attention before he grabbed Blaise by the elbow and lead him to their room.

"Kiss you?" Blaise questioned, peering at Draco. "Well," he shrugged, "okay, then."

Blaise grinned almost dreamily as he grabbed Draco by the waist and lunged forward, pressing his lips to his. Draco tried to angle his mouth against the slightly shorter boy's, but in the end found the kiss to be nothing more than an awkward tangle of limbs and one very chapped mouth accosting his with frightening fervor. And, Draco was pleased to note, not only was he generally repulsed, but he experienced no physical reaction whatsoever 'south of the border.' He was in the clear.

"See, I don't fancy blokes," Draco smiled triumphantly. Harry Potter was a fluke, after all. Draco was probably just confused by his freakishly long lashes and pretty lips. Ha! Brilliant!

Blaise raised a questioning eyebrow and stopped Draco from doing a dance of triumph. "Blokes? Oh, I'm sorry hun - did you want to be with Blaise?"

"You are Blaise," Draco stated softly, as if placating a child.

"No, I'm girl Blaise," he... she... Blaise smiled softly, stroking Draco's arm soothingly.

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't I tell you? Sometimes I'm a boy. Wait, I'll let him get back to you. That kiss was bloody awful, but you may do better with him." Girl-Blaise smiled at him again and gave a little wave, before her posture changed from sloping shoulders and cocked hip to a straight-backed stance that, admittedly, gave Blaise a more masculine look.

Draco blinked in disbelief and found what was apparently boy-Blaise peering back at him.

"You wanted to snog, Draco?"

"Um, yes..."

"Righto," Blaise answered with a grin and set to attacking Draco with his lips.

Where the first kiss had been awkward and uncomfortable, this one was better in every way. Blaise grabbed hold of Draco's right shoulder to steady himself and played with the hem of Draco's shirt with the other. He calmly and deftly stroked at Draco's bottom lip with his tongue before coaxing the other boy's mouth open so he could explore inside. Draco moaned into the boy's mouth and, realising his reaction, tried to pull away, but Blaise wouldn't have it. He grabbed a hold of Draco's ass and squeezed, both sending Draco about a foot in the air and pushing him back towards Blaise.

Draco couldn't understand it, but this was definitely better than kissing girl Blaise. How the fuck was that possible? They were the same person.

"Uh, Blaise?" Draco questioned once Blaise retreated from the kiss, though he hadn't removed his hand from Draco's ass.

"Yes," Blaise smiled.

"You might want to have that whole 'girl' thing checked out. The whole switching back and forth bit is really fucking weird."

Blaise shrugged and gave Draco's arse another squeeze for good measure before leaving the room, looking over his shoulder and waving at Draco with a grin on his face. Or was that girl-Blaise? Draco had no bloody idea. All he knew was that this was bad. Very bad. Because he was absolutely, positively gay.

Draco took a few steps backward and sat on the edge of the closest bed, Goyle's he realised.

Okay. He was a pouf. Pouf, pouf, poufity-pouf. Bloody hell. Apparently, getting off with Harry Potter wasn't a fluke. Now what was he supposed to do?

He certainly wasn't about to go begging Potter to have it off with him. No bloody way. But Draco knew a total of two poufs, other than himself - Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter. And he wasn't about to fool around with androgynous Blaise - the whole girl/boy thing was creepy. Besides, Draco was pretty sure Potter gave better head than Zabini.

So, unless Draco wanted to have no sex life until he graduated (no bloody way that was happening), he'd have to proposition Potter. His only other option was to do as he always had done and go about with girls, but, now that he thought about it, in comparison to Potter, no girl had ever really satisfied him. They were a lot of fun, yes, but Draco would take a bloke with a firm arse over Pansy Parkinson any day. Oh, God, did he really think that? This was bad. He had to talk to someone about this. Someone who would know what to do.

Then Draco had it. Granger. He would go see Granger.

End Chapter Eleven