Plans

It’s been a year since the Weasel walked into potions class with his arm around Harry’s waist. A year since I realised that I had miscalculated, that Harry would have a relationship with another boy. And today, I’m going to be the one walking into potions with my arm around Harry’s waist. No one else knows about us, yet. I can’t wait to see the Weasel’s face.

It took me awhile to figure out a plan, which says something. I needed the plan to be foolproof, because winning Harry had suddenly become even more important to me. I could strike a hard blow to the Weasel and get Harry at the same time. So I simply waited and planned for the rest of the school year. After I got home for the summer, however, I went shopping.

Harry got one more gift than he was expecting for his birthday when he turned sixteen.

I had searched for a long time to find something appropriate. After all, Harry did technically have a boyfriend, and the gift had to be tasteful, relatively expensive, and something Harry would still use or wear around said boyfriend. I was counting on Harry being a Gryffindor and not revealing his ‘secret admirer’ right away, since he would inevitably know that it would make his boyfriend jealous. He probably tacked ‘unnecessarily’ onto the end of that, but it wouldn’t have been unnecessary. Weasel should have been jealous. I certainly was.

Finally, I bought something elegant yet useful – a set of eagle feather quills and an assortment of inks in lead crystal bottles, all in a lovely case. I wrote a short note with it, and tried to forget about it for the rest of the summer, although I did send one more note a few days before term began.

Our schedules had changed; we had Defense with the Gryffindors as well, and that was first thing on the first day. I barely hid my smile when I saw Harry use one of the new quills, and one of the inks I had sent him. So. Time for another gift, then.

I continued to send gifts, smaller than the birthday gift, of course, and short notes, both very discreetly. I knew he hadn’t told the Weasel about the notes or the gift, or the cheesy way I signed them – ‘Love, your secret admirer.’ Even I wanted to gag at myself. Still, it was necessary, in order to win Harry over.

Then, a month before Christmas holidays, I set the larger portion of my plan into motion. A few well-placed owls and offers resulted in the Weasleys asking all of their children to return for the Christmas holidays. Another suggestion to my father, and soon Professor Snape was informing the Headmaster that You-Know-Who would try to kidnap Harry if he left the school for the holidays. The combination left Harry alone in Gryffindor Tower. I convinced my father to let me stay behind; there were only seven of us in the entire school, and the rest were all Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Perfect.

Two weeks before the holidays, I sent one of my notes during breakfast. Harry blushed bright red – so it was a rather racy note, so what? – and Weasel noticed. He questioned Harry and Harry still lied. I was surprised then, but I decided to continue with my plan. I sent another note the next day, and a present the third day. When Harry got a note on the fourth day, Weasel grabbed it first. I had made sure that each note that week mentioned our ‘long correspondence’ and other key phrases designed to make the Weasel blow his stack.

Oh, did it work beautifully.

Fifteen minutes later, my Harry was single. He was alone at the Gryffindor table, staring into space, as Granger had run after Weasel. I smiled. He was vulnerable. He was going to be mine.

I crept into the Gryffindor dormitories; Malfoy charm works on portraits, too. I watched Harry sleep for a few moments, before I acted. I blindfolded him lightly, and I slipped him some veritaserum (obtained illegally through Father, of course), before I began waking him up. I woke him up, of course, the same way that the prince always wakes up the fair princess – with a kiss.

He groaned into it, and then pulled back, slightly confused. “You’re not Ron. And I can’t see, even when my eyes are open.”

“Shh, love. I’ve blindfolded you, so you won’t recognise me just yet. Tell me, love, do I kiss better than... Ron... then?”

Harry nodded vigorously, the veritaserum obviously having its effects. “Merlin, yes. I didn’t know it could be that much fun. Are you my secret admirer?”

“Mm-hmm. Harry, I have a confession. I gave you veritaserum just before I woke you up, so that we’d both know whatever you spoke was the truth. Please don’t be mad at me, love.”

“All... all right,” Harry answered slowly. “I can understand that. Who are you?”

“Later, love,” I laughed, placing a finger on top of his lips. “For now, we don’t talk.”

“Who are you?” Harry asked again nearly an hour later, his voice heavy with sleep. My own mouth was still slightly sticky with remnants of Harry’s cum; I wondered if he could still taste me as well.

”You might hate me, love. Wasn’t that fantastic, though?”

“Yes. The best I’ve ever had. Why won’t you tell me? Unless you’re really a girl.”

“No,” I snorted, “I’m definitely male. You... you don’t like me, not normally.”

Even asleep, or partially, his mind worked remarkably well. “I don’t hate anyone,” he murmured.

“What about Malfoy?”

He shook his head, half-asleep. “Don’t hate Malfoy. S’too sexy.” He smiled. “Stay here, Draaaco.”

I nearly fell over. “Wwhhat?”

And he pulled off the blindfold before pulling me into his arms. “Knew it was you,” he said playfully. “Thought so for awhile. No one could be so calculating for such a primal act.”

And then he was asleep, leaving me to wonder if I had dreamed the whole conversation.

Somehow, for some reason, Harry wasn’t angry with me for engineering his breakup with Ron. The fact that I confessed it late one night while fucking him might have helped with that anger management, though. I had expected him to rant and rave, but he was merely quiet for a long time before he spoke. “Ron and I were friends with benefits. I tried to delude myself that there was more than just the benefits, but there wasn’t. That’s what I realised after that morning in the hall. Ron gets jealous over Hermione even though he’s gay. He’s jealous of his friends, and it’s a problem, but it wasn’t any different even though we were–”

“Fucking like bunnies?” I suggested helpfully. Or at least I thought it was helpful.

“Well, yes,” Harry admitted. “Something to that effect. Now, I don’t think I should tell him I’ve found anyone new quite yet, but we were trying to convince ourselves that something was there that wasn’t. You just... precipitated things somewhat.”

I sent Harry a valentine, publicly. It was obviously not the annoying fangirl valentines that were brought by other owls. That was how the Weasel found out that Harry was seeing someone else, although he still didn’t know it was me. It took him a week to get the jealousy out of his system as it was.

So today Harry has spent the night in my private room. We have potions first thing, and we’re going to walk into together. I wrote my father last week about my relationship with Harry. He’s agreed not to force me into the Death Eaters if it means having to face Harry. He’d prefer it if I could just bring Harry over to You-Know-Who’s side, just as I’m sure Dumbledore would be happy if Harry could bring me in to work for the Order of the Phoenix. For now, though, we’re content to ignore both sides as much as possible. Time enough for worries later.

I have to contain my beaming smile and force it into the smirk that my classmates are accustomed to seeing. I am walking into a class with my boyfriend, my Harry, in my arms, and the Weasel is the one looking jealously at me. I smirk again, looking straight at him. Harry sees me and rolls his eyes, but then he kisses the corner of my mouth, a tiny underlining of my smirk.

A Malfoy always gets what a Malfoy wants. A plan well-conceived by a Slytherin never fails in the end.