All's Fair

All's Fair

By: RainSW6

Chapter One

It was exactly 1:00AM on a humid summer night when a crash was heard at the window of a small, nondescript house that sat far off an unused, long-forgotten dirt road. With a start, seventeen-year-old wizard Harry Potter sat bolt upright in bed. He had to blink confusedly at the dimly lit and still unfamiliar surroundings for a few seconds before he remembered where he was. His left hand had already moved automatically to a nightstand beside the bed to retrieve his glasses, when he realized his vision was perfectly clear without them.

'The potion must have worked', Harry thought disappointedly, and allowed himself to pout.

A second crash into the small room's only window made him jump as he noticed what had awoken him. A rather disgruntled tawny owl was slamming into the glass pane. When Harry hurriedly slid it open, the handsome bird landed on the sill and gave him an extra sharp nip on the hand as he removed a thick envelope from its beak.

"Ouch!" He glared at it. "I don't think Professor McGonagall would be too happy to learn that a school owl attacked a student." The owl merely continued to look at him accusingly, as though he had intentionally kept his window shut just to make its delivery more difficult rather than to keep the heat out.

Slightly miffed at the animal, Harry grudgingly got a dish of cold water from Hedwig's cage, where she was sleeping peacefully with her head under a feathered wing, and brought it back to the window for the tawny. The weather was extremely hot and stuffy outside, even for mid-August, and Harry knew the school's messenger must be exhausted from the exertion of the journey. His own snowy white pet hadn't been willing to venture out for a couple of nights now, preferring to relax inside the magically cooled house.

Harry turned his attention to his mail, but found himself hesitant to open it. He knew it contained the same Hogwarts letter he had been sent for six previous years, and felt a pang at the knowledge that this would be the last time he would ever receive the yellowish envelope addressed in green ink. It had arrived a little late this year (it typically came around his birthday), but Harry assumed that maybe the delivery owl had been slightly confused as to his whereabouts since he had moved around so much this summer.

He had started off back at his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's house as usual, but had only been there for about three weeks before he had gotten a surprisingly early, but very welcome, letter saying he was invited to his best friend Ron Weasley's house. After the better part of a week at the Burrow, however, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were needed at Grimmauld Place for Order of the Phoenix business, so Harry had joined them, along with Ron and his younger sister Ginny, to stay at the headquarters that had once been his now dead godfather's home. It had been depressing to say the least, despite having had over a year to mourn, and memories of Sirius had threatened to overwhelm him.

He had been only too relieved when less than a week ago Remus Lupin, his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had stopped by and, immediately understanding of Harry's predicament, asked the teenager to spend the remainder of the summer with him at his house. Harry had eagerly accepted, and was thrilled when he saw the sign that said 'Marauder Lane' etched on the front door. His room here was cramped and minimally furnished, but having spent the majority of his life living in a tiny cupboard, to him it was a perfect place for solitude and thought.

With a small sigh, Harry slowly tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment within. He read the familiar words telling him to take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross on 1 September. It felt strange to be reading clearly without his glasses resting on the rim of his nose, but he supposed he would get used to it.

'Though I still don't think I should have had to get rid of them. Stupid Moody. Stupid Snape', he thought angrily, and rebelliously added, 'Stupid Dumbledore,' for good measure. He knew they had their reasons, but that didn't keep him from feeling bitter.

In the back of his mind he could almost hear his friend Hermione Granger's voice scolding him out of his sulk: "Honestly, Harry, you're lucky to even be alive after what happened, so I don't think your spectacles are such a sacrifice." And Harry had to admit to himself that the Hermione-Voice was right.

Harry had spent much of his sixth year trying to locate the wizard Peter Pettigrew, determined to relieve some of his grief for Sirius by capturing one of his godfather's worst enemies. Fate had been on his side. Near the end of term, he had learned that Wormtail had been spotted in Hogsmeade, and Harry had set off to find the rat traitor predictably hiding out at the Shrieking Shack.

In what he had become to see as his annual life-threatening situation, he had fought in a wizard's duel with the man who had betrayed his parents and Sirius. He had been caught off-guard in a moment of plain bad luck, and Wormtail had wasted no time in shouting "Expelliarmus!" The disarming spell, with the power of Wormtail's metallic hand behind it, managed to not only make Harry lose his wand, but also knocked him clear off his feet. When he'd hit the ground, his round-shaped eyewear fell from his face, rendering his vision useless. He couldn't see his wand to retrieve it, and Wormtail had again taken advantage of his opponent's weakness.

With Harry's hand still madly groping around the dusty floor for either his wand or glasses, Wormtail screamed out the Killing Curse, his own wand pointed directly at Harry. Harry barely had time to register the words Avada Kedevra and an explosion of green light before he foolishly threw his hands in front of him in a desperate attempt to protect himself. When the spell didn't hit, he cautiously lowered his hands and squinted at a blurry Wormtail, who lay dead on the ground.

Professor Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and several other members of the Order had arrived not too soon later. After learning what had transpired, Dumbledore had explained to a very bewildered Harry that Wormtail's life-debt to the then sixteen-year-old wizard had involved such a powerful ancient magic that Wormtail's wand had refused to allow the curse to hit Harry, and had instead turned on its master.

As Harry was being helped to his feet, Moody retrieved his glasses and wand, both which had been lying less than three feet away. Sheepishly, Harry had placed his glasses back on his nose, and a quick Reparo spell from Dumbledore took care of the cracked glass in the left lens.

Though Harry had admittedly been extremely reckless, it seemed that most of the Order had grown accustomed to his rash behavior, and only Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and McGonagall had scolded him with much vehemence. Great good had come of his encounter with Wormtail, which made the brush with death worth it to Harry. With Peter Pettigrew's body produced, Minister Fudge could no longer deny the truth of what had happened the night the Potters were attacked. Sirius Black's name was officially cleared, and the wizarding world at last knew of his innocence. Only Lupin seemed to truly understand the bitter-sweetness of the moment; Harry just wished his godfather had lived to see the day.

It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, when Moody and Professor Snape had stopped by Marauder Lane just yesterday, Harry's third morning there.

"I've been talking with Dumbledore, Potter, and he agrees with me that those damn glasses of yours are a bloody menace if you're planning to pull another stunt this year like you have every other," Moody had growled. "Professor Snape here says he can brew you a potion that'll-"

"Correction, Mad-Eye," Snape had cut in smoothly, giving his most poisonous glare to Harry, who returned it with his own. "I said I would instruct Potter how to brew it. The headmaster has insisted that I accept you into my Level 7 N.E.W.T. Potions class, Potter, despite my conviction that you will undoubtedly fail abysmally in it like you have been threatening to do in all my classes thus far. However, as your O.W.L. scores miraculously met my minimal standard of requirement..." He sniffed and crinkled his large nose suspiciously, as if Harry had found a way around the many anti-cheating charms cast on the test, before continuing, "I suppose I will have to suffer through your presence for yet another year. Thankfully this will be the last. As such, a student who is admitted into this level of Potions should be able to brew a Visionary Correction Elixer (with minor instruction) no problem." He smiled nastily.

If Harry's sight could have been fixed as a child growing up, he would have leapt at the chance. His Muggle primary schoolmates had always mercilessly picked on him for his often broken glasses. Now he knew he was a wizard, things were different. It was perhaps silly, but he had come to feel that his round spectacles were a way for him to be connected with his father. Professor Dumbledore had once predicted that Harry would grow tired of hearing of his physical resemblance to James Potter, but he never had.

Presently, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, his Hogwarts letter still clutched in his hand, lost in his memories and thoughts, not taking notice when the recovered tawny owl took flight out the window again. It was more than a little irritating to know that a man with half-moon spectacles and another with a false eyeball that could easily pop out were two of the people saying his impaired vision was too much of a hindrance, but Moody had waved aside his protests, saying it was for the best. Things were even worse when Harry then had to spend three and a half hours of his summer holiday, which was supposed to be blissfully Snape-free, being scowled and barked at by the hated Potions master, while he struggled to follow instructions to brew the Elixer.

Snape provided all the ingredients, though Harry actually already had a supply of most of them upstairs in his trunk. For his birthday this year, Hermione had topped even the Dursley's gift of old socks in the Worst Presents Ever Awards. She had purchased him an advanced Potions kit, complete with various bottles of slimy, smelly substances and a thick text titled 'Furthering your Potion Knowledge: A Comprehensive Guide to the Practical and Theoretical Use of Complicated Potions'. She had included a not-so-tactful note stating that it was to help him keep up with everyone else in their N.E.W.T. class this coming school term.

When the Elixer was finally complete, Harry, not wanting to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing him hesitate, had drank down the odorless milky liquid in a single shot.

Harry leaned back in the creaky bed and pulled his legs back under the navy covers despite the hot breeze wafting in from the open window. He put the letter and envelope on the bedside. He closed his eyes against the dim room. He had to get some sleep in, as Lupin would be waking him up fairly early so that Harry could be ready to go to Diagon Alley with Tonks for a much needed haircut. Pushing any lingering images of the past few months out of his mind, he fell into dreamless sleep.

Finishing up the last bite of his toast and marmalade the next morning, Harry wiped the remaining crumbs off his hands and stood up from the breakfast table, where Lupin was still seated, reading.

"Moon- Er... Remus? Is it alright if I use your fireplace to talk to Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked, running his fingers through his dark hair, still damp from his shower. "I wanted to see if they wanted to meet up today to get our books, since I'll be in London anyway."

Lupin's face tilted up from the book in front of him, and he smiled gently at the teenage boy. "Harry," he began, "I told you on your first night here that you're to make yourself at home: You don't have to ask, just help yourself to whatever you need."

Harry nodded, knowing perfectly well he would continue to check with Lupin before taking anything. After living so long with the Dursleys, he still felt uncomfortable with too much freedom. Even at the Burrow, which was like a second home to him, Harry always made sure to still ask someone before even getting a glass of milk or pumpkin juice.

"So the potion worked," Harry grumbled to the former professor, with a slight frown. "Dumbledore should be happy."

"Yes, I wagered it worked when I saw you didn't have your specs on," Lupin grinned; then added, thoughtfully, "I see a lot more of your mother in you without them. I've always noticed her in your eyes of course, but I think you may have gotten her small nose as well." Harry visibly brightened at this. "The Floo powder is next to the hearth," he continued. "You'd better hurry if you want to be dressed and ready when Tonks gets here. I - er - would prefer her to not have to wait around in the house for you." The words may have been unnecessarily stern, but Lupin's tone was amused. Nymphadora Tonks was one of the most kind, adventurous, and funny witches Harry knew, but was also notoriously clumsy. Lupin's small house probably wouldn't survive an extended encounter with, as Ginny Weasley called it, the Tonks Tornado.

"And one more thing, Harry," Lupin concluded before Harry left the room. His worn face suddenly looked older, but he smiled. "As the son of Prongs, you, along with myself, are the only one left who truly understands what being a Marauder is all about. If you want, feel free to call me Moony."

A grin stretched across Harry's own face. "Okay... Moony."

Forty-five minutes later, Harry and a currently pale-blonde Tonks were seated at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, waiting for Ron, Hermione, and Ron's sister Ginny, who had asked to come along.

Diagon Alley was busy, even though it was still morning. A number of school friends, including Gryffindors Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Colin Creevey, stopped by their table while they sat slurping on strawberry cones. All asked Harry about the absence of his eyeglasses, and he was encouraged by their positive responses to the change. As Hannah Abbott and two sixth year Hufflepuff girls Harry vaguely recognized walked off waving, Tonks turned to him with a grin.

"Quite the popular one, eh?" she asked. "And a ladies' man, to boot." She winked and chuckled at Harry's blush. He was saved from further teasing when he spotted a curly haired brunette, closely followed by a pair of firey redheads, making her way through the throngs towards he and Tonks.

"Harry!" Hermione smiled broadly, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek and an enormous hug when she, Ron, and Ginny reached their table. "You look great!"

"Er," Harry said against her shoulder, surprised by the warm greeting. "Hermione, you just saw me a few days ago... and I can't really breathe."

She gave a small laugh, and Harry was alarmed to see that her hazel eyes were teary when she pulled away. "Sorry, it's just this is the last time we'll meet here for a pre-school trip! It's finally hitting me that our time at Hogwarts is basically over," she explained.

Ron rolled his own very tear-free eyes to share a look with Harry. "Give me a break, Hermy. If you're like this before term even starts, remind me to wear my galoshes to graduation in case you start a flood." Hermione glared at him.

Ginny turned to Harry after complimenting Tonks on her blonde bob. "They've been bickering like this all day. They've decided to get back together, again," she warned.

Harry noticed for the first time that his two best friends were holding hands. They had started dating the previous Christmas, but seemed to change their minds every other week. He didn't know whether to grin or groan at this news. He loved the idea of Ron and Hermione as a couple - it was obvious how much they cared for each other. All one had to do was see how they looked at one another with poorly disguised affection to know that. But whenever they were dating, their heated arguing seemed to up a notch, which would eventually result in a very irritated Harry telling the two of them off.

"...and I'd rather be sentimental than an insensitive-" Hermione was saying in a forced sweet voice that reminded Harry horribly of their fifth year DADA professor, Dolores Umbridge.

"Alright, we should all head over to Sorcerous Stylings now that we're all here," Tonks interrupted loudly before a full-fledged fight broke out. She, Ginny, and a tight-lipped Hermione walked ahead, emersed in casual conversation, Ron and Harry not far behind.

"Sorry we took so long getting here, mate, but since Ginny insisted on coming with, we had to Floo in," Ron said. "I guess you and Tonks Apparated?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. He had just gotten licensed a week earlier. "It's still strange, I'm not really used to it yet. I was terrified I'd forget what I was doing and turn up without my trousers or something." They laughed, and were just getting into a good Quidditch discussion when they reached their destination. As the five of them entered the shop, Harry was overwhelmed by the smell of various hair potions.

"Hi! I'm Sarah! Wow, I can see you're in need of our service, so how may I help you?" an attractive witch asked, eyeing Hermione's frizzy head and Harry's long black mop with little subtlety.

Harry's eyes widened indignantly, but Hermione spoke before he could open his mouth. "Yes, the four of us are here for a cut and style." She smiled, but Harry could have sworn her teeth were clenched. He looked at her, somewhat surprised.

"You guys are getting your hair done as well?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ron answered. "Mum fancied it was a good idea, what with term about to begin."

"And I just thought it would be interesting to try a wizarding salon that uses magic. I've never been to one before," Hermione added, looking around curiously.

"Well, lucky for you we aren't as busy in the morning, so we have three spaces available right now, and a fourth should open up quick enough," Sarah said, a bright smile glued to her pretty face. She raised her wand, muttered a spell under her breath, and another fashionable witch and two handsome wizards came over. "This is Rondelle," Sarah pointed to the witch, "Paul, and Dominic. They'll be your stylists for the day."

Harry thought they all looked a little too eager to hack into his hair, so he stepped back to let the others go before him. Ron was finished first, his red hair neatly trimmed to a stylish short cut that reminded Harry of Julius Caesar. He started to tell Ron that he looked good, but Dominic quickly whisked him away to the sinks to wash his hair.

"That's not really necessary, I just washed it-" Harry began, as Dominic pushed him into a seat and shoved his head under the faucet. He was cut off, however, when Dominic pushed the black fringe covering his scar back to get it wet, let out a sharp gasp, and gave Harry a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

"Is that...? Are you...?"

Harry concealed a sigh and nodded. "Er, yeah. I am."

"Well, well! Working on the famous Harry Potter! This is going to be great fun indeed!" Dominic said enthusiastically. "Now just relax, I'm going to use a specially formulized shampoo that will make your hair more soft and manageable."

Harry gave up, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He couldn't deny it was enjoyable having someone massage his scalp; the warm water was pleasant and the faint scent of apples from the shampoo was soothing. It was over faster than he would have liked. A towel was wrapped around his neck and he was ushered to a black leather chair set in front of a large oval mirror. Hermione and Ginny were in similar seats to his left, being finished up by Rondelle and Paul. Harry noticed in the reflection that Tonks and Ron had come over to watch behind him.

"So, what would you like done?" Dominic asked, lifting a willow wand to Harry's damp locks.

"I just wanted a trim so that it's not in my eyes as much," he replied firmly.

Dominic frowned, but Tonks rolled her currently blue eyes dramatically. "Honestly, Harry, while you're here, why not take advantage and try something different?" she said. Next to them, Hermione and Ginny were nodding vehemently in agreement, while Ron looked on with a mixture of sympathy and boredom.

"I don't want-" Harry tried to say, but Dominic wasn't paying any attention and instead turned to the three girls, smiling brightly.

"Thank Merlin this boy has you ladies looking out for him. I don't think my conscience could have handled it if I let Harry Potter, of all wizards, walk away with his hair looking as wretched as it did when he came in," he laughed. Harry's jaw dropped angrily at the innocently spoken insult; it was closed by Dominic's strong hand, which gripped his chin and tilted his head so that the stylist could see his face and hair from every angle.

"Hm..." Dominic murmered, narrow eyes appraising. "Not bad. Not bad at all, in fact. Yes, a very nice facial structure. So delicate... almost feminine." Harry made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. "Wonderful cheekbones. Eyes and lashes to die for, it's unbelievable you keep them hidden under these awful bangs."

Harry saw in the mirror that his "wonderful cheekbones" were now flushed a deep pink. Hermione and Ginny had joined Tonks and Ron to stand and watch, all four grinning at his embarrassment. Harry tried to give them each a Look of Death, but the dignity of it was lost with Dominic still moving his face around.

"Alright, I know just the thing. We're going to have to take a lot of it off, especially in the front, to open up this lovely face of yours."

Harry shrugged. "That's fine. Don't put yourself out, though, it'll just grow back by tomorrow anyway. Haircuts have never really worked on me."

Dominic laughed lightly. "You must have been to Muggle places, then. Dear boy, magical cuts are different, since we don't use Muggle scissors. We use spells instead. Don't worry, this will last quite some time."

"Oh." 'Damn.' A surge or panic went through Harry. "Wait!" he cried, when Dominic lifted his wand, thinking fast. "You can't charm it too short, I need it long enough to cover my scar."

Dominic paused looking thoughtful.

"He's right," Tonks spoke up. Harry could have kissed her. "Sometimes it's helpful for him to hide it."

"Alright," Dominic said slowly. "I can work with that."

Harry sighed in relief. Before anyone else could find anything more to protest, Dominic whispered a few choice words and waved his wand around Harry's head. The hair gradually became shorter, and at first Harry had the horrible impression that it was growing back up inside his head, until he realized the ends were more jagged and a pile of dark strands was appearing in a small stone bowl set next to the mirror.

When Dominic finished, the handsome man shot his wand at the bowl, and the hair disappeared in a small burst of blue flame. "Have to be careful to destroy it all," he explained, seeing Harry's curious gaze. "Hair can be used too easily in unwelcome spells." Harry nodded, feeling he should have guessed that, and turned his attention to his reflection.

It was shorter, with the front falling across his forehead, just barely long enough to hide a good portion of the lightning bolt above his right eye. The back still stuck up, stubbornly messy. 'Should have known even a magical stylist wouldn't have much effect,' he thought, and moved to get up.

"Oh, I'm not quite done with you," Dominic chuckled, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to stop him. He picked up a bottle labeled Sleak-eazy's Witch Hazel Styling Potion. "I highly recommend you pick up a bottle of this before you leave today. It's a gift from the gods to people with troublesome hair like yours."

"That's not going to work, trust me," Harry said. "My hair hasn't gone flat a day of my life."

Dominic smiled more broadly. "That's been your error right there. Instead of fighting the natural growth of your hair, you should be working with it. Here, tilt your head forward." Harry did so, and Dominic used the potion, ruffling Harry's hair, so that pieces of it stuck up in the front as well. Some strands still lay across his forehead, but it was mostly off his face, his scar clearly visible.

"Oh, that's brilliant, Harry!" Tonks clapped her hands. Upon seeing the look he gave her, she added, "If you need to go incognito ever, you can, but there's no reason to need to hide who you are all the time."

"Um, how about basic anonymity?" Harry said, but they waved his worries away.

"It looks really sexy," Ginny reassured. "Carelessly sexy."

Harry gave himself another look. He did like it, though he'd never admit it. Still, he would have preferred it on someone else. He could just imagine the horror that would come with every gaze to come his way shooting directly to his scar, and him unable to hide his identity.

"You know, it would be even more smashing if I could add some highlights-" Dominic began, his eyes glinting.

"No!" Harry quickly stood up. Enough was enough. If he sat here much longer he wouldn't recognize himself. "No, thank you, this is fine."

They all made their way to Flourish and Blotts once they'd paid at Sorcerous Stylings (the girls made Harry buy both the shampoo and Witch Hazel potion) with their school booklists in hand. Tonks and Ginny went to find the things she'd need for her sixth year, while Ron, Hermione, and Harry picked up their necessary N.E.W.T. texts. They had each just picked up a copy of 'How to be Charming', by Glenda Goodwich, when Hermione and Ron got into another row.

"...and what are you going to do then, hm? You can't keep putting off choosing a career, Ronald!"

"For your information, I've known what I want to do since fourth year," Ron shot back, hotly.

His girlfriend's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Then why did you just sign up for whatever classes Harry was taking? That's what he did, isn't it, Harry?"

Ron's face turned red. "Harry, will you please inform her-"

"Oh no," Harry interrupted, holding up his hands and backing away. "Don't pull me into this. You guys are driving me nuts already; I'm going to go find the others. Maybe by the time I come back you two will have found a private place and thoroughly shagged your sexual frustrations away." He smirked and walked towards the back of the shop, ignoring Hermione's scandalized "Harry!"

The store wasn't too crowded, and Harry quickly spotted the back of Tonks' pale blonde head disappearing behind an aisle of shelves.

Harry was about to turn in that same aisle to help her find whatever book she was looking for, but froze at the distinct sound of intimate murmuring and kissing coming from it. He dodged into the next aisle and peered through the books on the shelves, grinning mischievously, to see whom Tonks could have possibly met up with in this old, dusty bookshop.

Green eyes widened in surprise, Harry saw that it wasn't the Metamorphmagus at all. It was Draco-bleeding-Malfoy: Enemy, Hated Rival, All Around Arrogant Git. And he was in the middle of a very heated snog session with...

Harry blinked. 'Theodore Nott? But he's a boy!' Harry moved some of the stacked books cautiously out of the way so that he could get a better look to ensure he wasn't seeing things. Malfoy had Nott pressed lightly against the wall, his pale hands tangled in the other boy's dark brown hair.

'Oh, gross. I think I just saw Malfoy's tongue.' Both revolted and somehow fascinated at the same time, Harry continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away.

He had only seen two men kissing once before, and that had been on some American television program Dudley had been watching until Aunt Petunia had shouted to "get that perverse filth off." Harry remembered thinking how unnatural and bruising the kiss had looked; violent and hard, but strangely passionless at the same time. It had looked wrong.

Malfoy and Nott were different. Their kiss was soft and gentle, and hands lovingly caressed.... 'Wait a minute, loving? Malfoy!? The prat isn't capable! Winged pigs wouldt be ice-skating in Hades first.'

Harry knew he should walk away now, before he was caught, but he felt compelled to stay where he was. He didn't know how long he had stood there watching the two Slytherins when he was startled from his observations.

"There you are, Harry!" Harry whirled guiltily to face Hermione, who stood at the end of his aisle, a pile of books in her arms, looking exasperated. "We were-"

Harry silenced her by clamping a hand over her mouth. The noises from the next row had stopped. Panicked at the thought of being caught spying on something so private, Harry hurriedly pulled a sputtering Hermione - away from Malfoy and Nott, through Flourish and Blotts, and straight out of the store to get away.

"Harry!" A shocked Hermione gasped, wrenching herself out of his grasp. "What on earth is wrong with you today?! First you make crude... er... insinuations, then you storm off from Ron and I, and now you drag me around like I'm a puppy on a leash, and I haven't even paid for these books yet-"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Granger," a too familiar voice drawled from the shop's entrance. The two friends turned to see Malfoy gazing at them with cool grey eyes, a sneer on his face. He was alone, and Harry found himself wondering where Nott had gone. "After all," Malfoy continued, taking an arrogant step forward, "It's not like famous Potter or his little buck-toothed sidekick would actually be punished like the rest of us if they got caught stealing." He curled his lip nastily. "Even if you are a disgusting Mudblood."

Harry's hand moved swiftly to produce his wand from his back pocket, but he held it low, not wanting to draw a crowd. "Newsflash, Malfoy," he said, emerald eyes sparking angrily. "I turned seventeen over the summer. So one more foul word from your Death Eater mouth and I'll legally hex you into next week."

"Harry, no-" Hermione began.

Unfazed, Malfoy covered the distance between himself and his rival, standing so close that Harry was forced to take a step back. Malfoy smirked. "You're so intimidating, Potter. Honestly, it's a wonder the Dark Lord isn't trembling in his robes."

"I guess you would know if he wasn't, seeing as you've been up close and personal with Voldemort's robes. You know, having kissed them and all," Harry retorted. He was surprised to note that Malfoy didn't flinch at the evil wizard's name, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

The pale blonde moved closer again, and this time Harry determinedly held his ground, chin up. Absently he noticed with irritation that the Slytherin was a few good inches taller, as well as more broad-shouldered. 'Damn those Muggles and that stupid cupboard for keeping me so short.'

"And I'm sure you'd love to watch me do that, wouldn't you, Potter," Malfoy murmered, sneering. "Funny, I never would have pegged you as a voyeur. So did you enjoy the peeping earlier, Tom?" Harry tried to ignore the deep flush creeping onto his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Hermione, who hadn't moved for fear of dropping the unpaid for books on the ground.

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Harry lied, his face still hot.

Malfoy's pale lips drew into another of his signature smirks. "Oh, really?" he drawled mockingly, continuing to stare down his foe, not acknowledging Hermione's presence. His cool gaze slowly moved over Harry's frameless emerald eyes, golden-toned features, and mussed raven locks. The smaller boy suddenly felt very self-conscious without his trademark glasses and hair to hide behind; it was very uncomfortable knowing his scar was so exposed, almost like his fly was caught down. Malfoy lowered his voice so Hermione couldn't overhear. "You're not so terrible without those hideous black things you called spectacles and hair. Maybe you'd like joining in better than watching." Harry repressed a shiver at the warm breath that ghosted his face. He took a step back, sneer in place. "Unfortunately for you, I don't fuck filthy half-blood Gryffindors, no matter how pretty."

Harry froze in shock for a moment. 'Did he just insinuate what I think he did?' Then thought, 'And did he just call me PRETTY of all things?!' Missing his spectacles more than ever, he silently cursed Moody, Snape, and Dumbledore again. He composed his face into a dark glare.

"Well, I guess it's lucky for me that I don't swing that way," he spat. "But be assured that even if I did, you'd certainly be left off the list of people I'd ever consider doing... that... with."

Malfoy merely raised an amused silver eyebrow, and passed by an indignant Harry to walk down the cobblestone street, with a small chuckle. "You don't really believe that, do you, Golden Boy?" he called over his shoulder, without turning around. "And close your mouth, Mudblood Granger, you're ugly enough without showing all of your oversized teeth."

Gaping at the back of the quickly retreating blonde head, Hermione turned to Harry, unsure of what had just taken place.

"What in the hell was that all about?" she questioned, books still teetering. Harry hurried over to help her with her burden.

"Thanks," she sighed. "Now, will you please explain what Malfoy was talking about and why he left without so much as threatening your life even once?"

Blinking at her suspicious tone, Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I guess he's afraid I'll leak his sexuality out to everyone if he wasn't civil." He paused. "Well, civil for that slimy ferret, anyway."

"What?!"

Harry grinned wickedly at his baffled friend. "Hermione, you're never going to believe it. It seems our least favorite Slytherin has been hiding a little dark secret..." In a low voice, he filled her in on the scene he had witnessed in Flourish and Blotts. Hermione looked stunned at first, but recovered swiftly. Harry thought he heard her mutter, "Well that explains a lot" under her breath.

"Merlin, Ron's going to flip when he hears that Malfoy's gay!" Harry laughed. "I wonder if Lucius knows, yet... Hey, Herm, do you think-"

"Whoa, Harry!" Hermione interrupted, looking disapproving. "I know Malfoy is one of the most detestable, bigoted creatures to ever walk the earth, but you can't go telling everyone he's gay! That's really a very... personal thing."

"I'm not going to everyone, Hermione, just Ron. And maybe Seamus and Dean." Harry cocked his raven head thoughtfully. "Oh, and Neville, of course, Malfoy's always been such a right git to him. Oh! And-"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "No, Harry, not a word to anyone, understand?"

"At least let me tell Ron-"

"Especially not Ron! He'd probably sell the story to Rita Skeeter or something- and don't you even think of it, Harry Potter, I see that glint in your eyes. She'd probably ruin his life."

Harry sighed, but nodded.

"If anyone found out, he'd probably be disowned by his entire family or something. The wizarding word severly frowns on homosexual relationships, Harry," Hermione said.

The Gryffindor boy stared, surprised. "As much as muggles?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She frowned, biting her lower lip. "Pretty much. Maybe even more. Look, let's just not bring this up again. Even Malfoy doesn't deserve to be picked on for this; you're better than that, Harry. Let's go pay for these and find Ron and Tonks. I still need to pick up a supply of floo powder."

Harry followed the young witch inside the shop, trying to forget what he had seen earlier. For some irritating reason that he couldn't explain, he was unable to get the image of his archrival's slightly flushed face and freshly kissed mouth out of his mind.