A Good Cry

"A Good Cry"

by Professor Mary

Draco sighed, lost in his own thoughts of self-pity. Being secretly stuck in Hermione Granger's body for a yet unspecified amount of time was - at best - overwhelming.

At the moment, he felt trapped in the library with both Potter and Weasley. While he usually enjoyed these study sessions with the two boys (which was really quite surprising initially), at the moment, he really felt a bit put out.

He stole a glance out of the nearby window. The weather was quite lovely outside, offering a welcome break from the monotonous days of rain. Plus, he knew the Transfiguration material already. He just didn't have the patience to walk the other two boys through the exercises. But he couldn't shake the obligation he felt to assist Potter and Weasley - if anything, he needed to protect his and Granger's secret. Somehow, he wasn't sure if merely going outside would resolve his feelings of restlessness, either. There was just something missing- something like an itch- something he couldn't name.

So he sighed again and forced himself to return to his textbook.

"Alright, Hermione," Potter said good-humoredly. "That's probably the fifth time you've sighed in the past five minutes. Since I can't read your mind, you're going to have to spill it."

Draco felt pretty darn thankful that the Boy Wonder couldn't read minds. Otherwise, his secret would be out and his perfect Potions average would be in the toilet.

Weasley looked up from his homework, too, fixing an apprehensive gaze on the brown-haired girl.

One of the more interesting side-effects of the Potion of Perspective, the one that had caused the mind-swap mishap in the first place, is the lingering personality traits of the rightful owner's body. For days now, Draco had been trying to deal with sudden bursts of righteous indignation, the need to resurrect justice, and extremely friendly feelings for Potter, Weasley, and even Longbottom!

Now, he was feeling the increasingly familiar rush of thankfulness towards the two boys sitting in front of him. He tried desperately to get a handle on his emotions. Both Potter and Weasley were eyeing him with such concern- such love!

Damn it! Draco thought, as he felt none other than tears prick his eyes.

In the space of two seconds, Potter had moved beside him and wrapped one strong arm around his shoulders. Weasley had immediately fumbled around in his robe pockets to produce a clean, if slightly frayed, white handkerchief that he now pressed into Draco's hand.

Draco bit his bottom lip in an effort to control his unruly emotions as well as the rising tide of humiliation at crying. But still the tears came.

Potter was whispering nonsensical words into his hair while he cradled him now in both of his arms. Weasley had reached across the table to take Draco's hand. Inanely, Draco noticed that Potter smelled very good and that Weasley's hand was much softer than he would have thought.

He just couldn't deny that the two boys were making him feel better. As another surge of appreciation rolled through him, his tears were now joined by rather noisy sobs.

The two continued to console him. Neither asked him to stop crying or to explain himself. They just comforted him.

It was really like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

To be loved so fully- so unconditionally.

As he sat there, in the deserted back of the library, being patiently held by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, he was overwhelmed by a torrent of half-formed thoughts.

He couldn't even remember the last time he cried. He had no recollections whatsoever of being upset enough for anyone to comfort him either. In fact, the thought of anyone in his life - his parents, his "friends", even former lovers - offering him such comfort made him laugh - a harsh noise breaking up his sobs.

Then came the jealously. All of this belongs to Granger, he thought. At that moment, though, he could no longer tell where he stopped and Granger started. His very identity was threatening to collapse under the pressure of Granger's lingering feelings and Potter and Weasley's love.

After several long minutes of heaving sobs, Draco finally felt spent. His cries were slowly replaced by deep ragged breaths that still caught in his throat. But Potter's hand gently rubbing his back seemed to will those away, too.

Even though his tears were now gone and his breathing had returned to normal, Potter and Weasley continued to hold him. They said nothing substantive- well, nothing out loud.

But Potter had wrapped both arms around him and was now squeezing him rather hard, breathing into his mass of brown curls. And Weasley had taken his hand in both of his, and was trailing his fingers across his skin. After such an emotional outpouring, he felt raw- and he gave into the soothing touches and tickling warm breaths.

It was really the most wonderful feeling, he decided, successfully quelling the rioting voices of dissension in his head. He didn't want to question this- he wanted to revel in it.

"Thank you," a voice rasped.

Draco was surprised that it was his voice. But he knew that he meant it.

"Thank you for-- for... loving me," he chanced, nuzzling his head deeper into Potter's embrace.

He felt squeezed all over as both boys responded to the desperation in his voice.

He couldn't help it- somewhere deep inside of him--these two boys had awakened a desire--a voracious and insatiable yearning - something that was not going to be ignored any longer. He needed to be loved.

And as he thought it to himself - named the need for what it was - he trembled in fear.

"Hermione, you're shaking," Weasley said worriedly, his voice a harsh whisper.

Draco felt like rational thought had all but left him completely. Still he kept himself from shouting out, "I'm not Hermione but I need this, too!"

He settled for a muffled moan as he lifted his head somewhat and nuzzled Potter a little bit higher. As he cheek came in contact with the skin of the other boy's neck, he noticed again how nice Potter smelled. Unbidden, his tongue darted out for a taste.

"Hermione," Potter rasped.

"I need this," was all he could answer.

He wasn't sure if the over-loud thudding was coming from his own chest or Potter's. He pressed himself closer to the boy, sliding his hand out of Weasley's grasp and locking it with his other one behind Potter's head. Again, he let his tongue trace hungrily up the slightly salty neck.

"Taste so good," he moaned.

Draco was beyond thinking at this point. He only knew what he needed- and that he needed more of it.

He pulled Potter's head in closer to his own, breathing in the other boy's scent as if it was a drug. He tried to press his face against Potter's, caressing the boy with his own smooth cheeks. His hands were pulling and tugging at the unruly black hair that he'd so often made fun of in the past. Now, he had to claim it for his own.

"Harry," he breathed. "You're mine."

With that, he was suddenly jarred by returned gestures. For a few minutes, Draco had been so caught up in his need to touch - to mark - Harry that he hadn't realized the boy wasn't touching him back.

Now large hands vacillated between tender and rough touches. It was if Harry couldn't decide how he wanted to proceed- so everything was happening.

With one hand, Draco reached around Harry's head and pulled him down forcefully so he could mark him with his lips. But at the same time, Draco reached his other hand out and gripped Ron's hands.

Even as his frenzied tongue was exploring Harry's mouth, he was unmistakably pulling the redheaded boy towards him.

A precious few seconds passed before Draco felt a surge of heat behind him. Then a second set of hands were touching and squeezing and roving over his body.

He leaned back into Ron's broad chest, resting his head there all the while continuing to kiss Harry.

Abruptly, he gave Harry's bottom lip a small bite and then gently pushed the boy away from him. He looked into the half-closed green eyes to see recognition there and then Harry pulled him from Ron's chest before he carefully turned him around so that now he was facing the redhead.

Weasley - for only a second, he remembered that this was the boy that his father called a blood traitor-- someone he'd exchanged hexes and punches and curses with for over six years. But then a rush of other thoughts pushed through - and he remembered how only earlier that day, he'd laughed at the boy's jokes and been the recipient of so much loving attention.

He leaned in, desperate to mark this boy as he had Harry. But instead of frenzied kisses, he was surprised to be on the receiving in of a long slow passionate kiss. A kiss that felt all too familiar.

And he remembered that Granger had dated Ron before - and he realized that her body already knew him. And before he could feel jealous, he gave in to the desire to mark this boy as his own- and not just Hermione Granger's.

"I will always be yours," Ron said, his voice husky. Draco answered by nearly climbing into Ron's lap in his haste to press as much of himself as he could against the boy.

At last, he began to feel sated - his restlessness had passed. He pulled out of his gentle kiss with Ron and wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into a hug. He felt Harry behind him, completing the embrace. The three stayed like that for several minutes, and Draco thought he would have cried at the beauty of it - if he'd had anymore tears.

The slightest shuffling sound caught his attention and without stirring, he looked up. He saw a figure standing silently in the darkened shadows between the shelves of musty old books. He could see someone leaning against a shelf with his arms crossed.

He kept his brown eyes fixed on the person, already knowing who it was, even before he saw the shock of white blond hair.

Granger.

Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to know that she was standing there. And Draco wasn't about to disturb the most comforting hug he'd ever had in his life to tell them. So he kept his head on Ron's shoulder but his eyes on the tall blond haired boy only a few feet away.

She shifted slightly and he could see her expression. If he'd had any energy left for thinking, he might have thought she'd be jealous. He'd certainly been jealous.

But the thoughtful gray eyes seemed to hold no malice in them. Rather, she just looked on, her face relaxed. After another minute, she gave him a small smile - and he knew then that she understood. That Granger understood his needs--and that she didn't begrudge him this comfort from her closest friends.

Then as silently as she must have come, she left.

Draco closed his eyes and focused solely on the two boys who were still quietly holding him, knowing that his world had fundamentally changed.

Finis.