All's Fair

~*~

Chapter Four

Harry entered the Great Hall with much trepidation. It was only 7:30 in the morning, but experience told him that it was never too untimely an hour for the Hogwarts Gossip Society to hungrily devour the latest scandal.

'Especially seeing as Malfoy's always been chummy with that big-mouth Parkinson. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make up flyers and owl the Daily Prophet,' he thought, hastening to the Gryffindor table, careful not to look at anyone.

He had rushed to breakfast early, raven hair still sopping wet from a fast shower, hoping to avoid any stares from his fellow classmates. Merlin only knew what version Malfoy had given everyone for what had happened last night, though Harry suspected it included some dramatic modification of the actual events. Not that it was necessary; the truth was embarrassing enough to make people whisper, much to his chagrin. He had been ostracized by the ever fickle Wizarding World many times before, but unfortunately that didn't make it any easier to put up with.

Deliberately opting to sit with his back to the Slytherin table and any obnoxious silver eyes that might be focused in his direction, Harry eagerly helped himself to some sausages and fried tomatoes. The last thing he had eaten were the bits of candy at Hagrid's, and not even a night of worry could take away the appetite of a growing teenage boy.

It wasn't long until the Hall became more crowded, as tired students gradually trickled in to grab a quick breakfast before their first class. Harry tensed slightly when a group of laughing Gryffindors sat a little further down the bench from him, but relaxed when he realized that they weren't talking about him. He felt better when his old dorm-mates arrived, filling up the seats around him, seemingly clueless as to what had transpired between their good friend and his rival.

'In fact,' Harry noted, as he looked around at all the other houses, 'no one is looking at me anymore than they usually do.' It appeared that Malfoy had been bluffing, probably just to mess with the Gryffindor's mind. Slightly bewildered, Harry decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had expected the other boy to play as dirty as his word, and felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards the Slytherin. 'I'm definitely apologizing to him tonight in detention,' he decided, so relieved his fears had been unwarranted.

"Harry, will you please tell me that Ron's kidding?"

Hearing his name brought Harry's attention back from his furtive perusal of the Hall. He turned towards the source, and noticed that Ginny had taken a place next to her brother across the table. Harry blinked when he saw that the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was watching him, waiting for him to speak.

Seeing his blank expression, Ginny heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Merlin's beard, you could at least pretend to listen when your team is trying to discuss the season with you, Captain Potter," she teased, reaching over a plate of toast to flick him on the nose playfully. The petite Gryffindor chaser put on a pitiful face. "Do we honestly have practice four times a week, at 5:30 in the morning this year?" she asked, her eyes pleading him to deny it.

Steeling himself for the whining he knew was to come, Harry nodded. "Sorry, guys, but if I want to make sure we can get in three solid hours on the pitch when we're out there it has to be that early," he told them firmly, in his best Oliver Wood impersonation. "Since I have to be in detention all sodding month, the only times the field was available were before breakfast or during dinner. We don't start practicing until next week, though, so enjoy the extra sleep while you can, kids." He grinned evilly at their dismayed expressions.

"I'd rather give up dinner," fourth year chaser Natalie McDonald muttered grumpily, but her words went unheard, as at that moment somewhere around forty owls came soaring over head, each carrying a scroll of parchment.

"It's not time for mail, yet," Ron frowned, catching one bird's burden, which had fallen in front of him.

Harry was surprised when an unfamiliar barn owl dropped one of the scrolls in front of him as well, narrowly missing his glass of pumpkin juice. He noticed that all the other seventh years had received a piece of mail identical to Ron and his. Assuming it had something to do with the N.E.W.T. exams to be taken that spring, he unrolled the parchment with minor interest-and felt his mouth open in shock at what it contained.

'Oh. My. Fucking. God.' He shut his widened green eyes, praying to any deity that would listen for the writing to change when he opened them again. 'I wasn't serious about the flyer thing!!!!' he shrieked silently, clenching his teeth to keep the words from escaping his lips. Letting his dark lashes lift, his stomach sank, making him feel slightly nauseous. The words and illustration done in bold black ink remained the same:

**"HARRY POTTER: GAY MOLESTER! The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Want-Other-Boys made known his private lust for Slytherin's sexy seeker, Draco Malfoy, late last evening. The Head Boy was hoping to conduct a routine detention in the library, but was apprehended by a horny Potter in the hall before said detention could take place. Despite Malfoy's obvious long-standing hatred for the Gryffindor, Potter forcefully proceeded to try to kiss Malfoy, and rub his grotesquely erect (and small) genitals against Malfoy's unwilling body. "It should have been obvious," an undisclosed source says. "He's often mentioned how his muggle relations made him 'live in the cupboard under the stairs' all his life, and how he was finally able to 'come out of the cupboard' when he got his Hogwarts letter." It is believed the much talked about fight on the Hogwarts Express two days ago came about due to Potter's jealousy that his obsession can't stand the sight of the skinny, mentally unstable half-blood, and that he would rather choose to date someone (anyone) other than him."**

Above the short article was a crude moving sketch of Harry and Malfoy, an embarrassing bulge made quite obvious in the front of Harry's robes, with the drawn Malfoy trying to throw off Harry's advances.

Too stunned and incensed to move, Harry could only life his gaze to see Ron's reaction, who was seated directly across from him. His best friend had gone purple with rage, his freckles no longer visible against the vivid shade, and he was shredding his own flyer into bits.

Finally anger took control of his limbs, and the dark-haired Gryffindor crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball with his left hand. Pulling out his wand with the other, Harry growled, "They'll never find his body," and turned around to stalk over to his Currently Most Hated Enemy (who was unsuccessfully trying to maintain an innocent expression), but felt a restraining hand on his arm hold him back.

"That's just what he wants, for you to make a scene over this pile of bloody rubbish so that he can get you in trouble again," Seamus Finnigan told him, loud enough for all those around them to hear. "Everyone knows he's a lying snake, just trying to get you back for what happened on the Express."

Some of the panic that had been building inside diminished when he saw that the heated and aghast faces surrounding him were nodding in agreement with the Irish wizard, glaring at the blonde Slytherin. Even Hermione, whom Harry had assumed would again defend Malfoy's actions, was scowling darkly.

Catching his eye, she shook her head in obvious disgust. "I guess we shouldn't have expected anything less from the likes of a Malfoy," she stated. "Seamus is right, Harry, don't let him goad you into anything with his foul slander, he's not worth the trouble. No one will believe it anyway."

Taking a calming breath, Harry was pleased to see disappointment and annoyance creep onto Malfoy's face at the lack of the desired reaction around the Hall. He turned angry eyes onto Harry, who, giddy with glee, gave him a sarcastic smile before retaking his seat with exaggerated composure. Ron was still an unhealthy hue, but, at Ginny's encouragement, he also forced himself to sit down and pretend that nothing had interrupted their breakfast.

"So," Euan Abercrombie, Gryffindor's third chaser, began evenly, "about those 5AM practices.."

*

Though it certainly wasn't for a lack of effort on Malfoy's part, Harry's second day at Hogwarts was proving to be a vast improvement over his first. The problematic kink in Malfoy's horrible scheme was that (to Harry's relief, and the Head Boy's frustration) no one other than the Slytherins, who already hated Harry, seemed to care. Malfoy's reputation was stained too dark with a history of malice and deceit for anyone to pay much heed to what he or his cronies had to say. Everyone seemed to find the rumor ludicrous: Harry Potter would never want to be physical with Draco Malfoy -- unless it involved breaking Malfoy's jaw, of course - and Harry was only too happy to let everyone believe what they wanted.

Advanced N.E.W.T. Triple Defense Against the Dark Arts took up the entire morning, lasting from 8:30-11:30AM. Professor Venatici was an older man with a grey mustache that looked like the end of a broom, and was not unlike Professor McGonagall, being both stern and fair. It seemed that this year their lessons would be mostly practical work, which thrilled Harry. The Gryffindor took a liking to him instantly, and silently hoped that Venatici wouldn't turn out to be an evil fraud, as had happened one too many times in Harry's past experiences with DADA professors.

The only real sour point to spending three hours in his favorite subject was that Malfoy was also in it, and Harry spent a good portion of the class period ignoring the icy glares sent his way. The rest of the DADA students made it clear to Malfoy just what they thought of his malicious prank at breakfast by offering the pale boy dirty looks of their own. Even the terrible Draco Malfoy didn't dare do anything worse, as the only other Slytherin in the room was Millicent Bulstrode, and so Harry was temporarily safe from having a repeat performance of yesterday's Potions lesson.

It wasn't until lunch that his day took a small dive. The Rumor Mill was at it again, this time with supposed news concerning Theordore Nott's mysterious disappearance.

According to Parvati Patil (who heard it from her twin sister in Ravenclaw, who heard it from Pansy Parkinson, who heard it from Blaise Zabini) Nott's father had received an anonymous owl regarding his son's involvement with Draco Malfoy directly after Harry let the secret slip on the Hogwarts Express, and had immediately requested for Theodore to be sent home again.

"Isn't it just so shameful?" Parvati gushed, as Harry struggled to repress a fresh surge of regret. "Padma-said-that-Pansy-said-that-BLAISE-said that Theodore's probably not going to come back to Hogwarts, and is either going to finish up his last year of wizarding studies at Durmstrang or being home- schooled. You know, to ensure that he and Draco can't continue with their affair."

Harry, this time seated facing the Slytherins, tried to not pay attention to Parvati and, for some reason he didn't want to think about, attempted to steal a quick look at Malfoy, without being too obvious. The platinum- blonde young man was also sitting in the direction of his nemesis, and was in the middle of a conversation with the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House's resident ghost. Malfoy suddenly gave a brief smile to something the silver blood-stained spirit was saying, and Harry felt part of his chest constrict oddly.

'He definitely looks better when he does that,' he thought, still staring. 'Almost as good as last night, when I thought he was going to....' Cutting off that thought before it could go any farther, Harry shook his head, praying he wasn't blushing. 'Gods, why do I keep wasting my time thinking about the stupid arse? He's not attractive in any sense of the word, and even if he was, he's still the evil Death-Eater-wannabe who sent that bloody flyer this morning.' Just then Malfoy glanced his way, and Harry quickly averted his gaze.

Finishing up his lunch, he stubbornly paid no mind to the small voice in his head telling him that, no matter how hard Harry tried to convince himself otherwise, Malfoy was undeniably very handsome. Particularly when up close.

*

Carefully trying to avoid getting any more nights stuck in the stacks or house-points deducted, Harry made sure to arrive at the library five minutes early for his detention. Malfoy was already there, working on what appeared to be an Arithmancy assignment. Harry stood awkwardly next to the table Malfoy was at, but the Slytherin rudely didn't look up until it was exactly eight o'clock.

"Glad to see you could make it, Potter," he sneered, finally acknowledging the other's presence. "And on time for once in your sorry life, too. It seems you can be trained after all."

His nostrils flared slightly, but Harry only replied with a tight, "Should I just start where we left off last night, or do you have something new you want to show me?"

Malfoy smirked and raised an eyebrow suggestively, causing the Gryffindor to curse his own choice of words. Spinning around without waiting for a response, a crimson Harry stalked off for the Transfiguration section.

He worked diligently, only pausing when he had finished sorting all of the books on Transfiguration and had to decide where to go next. The History portion of the library's ancient collection was nearest, so he continued on there, thinking fondly of Hermione when he moved 'Hogwarts: A History' to its proper place.

As the hours stretched on, he grew increasingly bored and, with a cautious glance around him to see if Malfoy was anywhere nearby, he picked up a book titled 'Modern Magical History' to flip through. Settling down on the floor and looking at the index, he was both surprised and sickened to see his own name there, with the sub-heading of 'Boy-Who-Lived.'

"I'll never be able to escape my past," he muttered sullenly. Resisting the temptation to see what the book had to say about him, Harry moved on when something caught his eye. Listed under 'You-Know-Who' was an indention with the words 'Heir of Salazar Slytherin'.

Turning to the page given, Harry read an extraordinarily detailed account of Voldemort's lineage to the Hogwarts founder, which wasn't as interesting as he had thought it would be. He perked up slightly when it mentioned that Godric Gryffindor and his descendants had a legendary rivalry with Slytherin's family. Having never heard of any heirs to Gryffindor (or any of the other house founders, for that matter), an intrigued Harry checked the index and discovered a section labeled 'Hogwarts Founder Heirs'.

There were only a couple of pages, to Harry's disappointment, most of which further elaborated on Voldemort's ties to Slytherin. The text mentioned that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff lines had both been wiped out during the attempted reign of the dark wizard Grindelwald, which he briefly skimmed over. At the end of the passage, Harry saw what he had been looking for.

"Godric Gryffindor," he read quietly to himself, "produced a long line of powerful wizards, including Hirtus Figulus, who is Gryffindor's last known heir. Figulus, forsaking the bravery his heritage was famous for, ran away abruptly when Grindelwald made it clear he intended to destroy the Heirs of Hogwarts, never to be seen again. Only Slytherin's heir, You-Know-Who, was kept safe, because he was still a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the time, and under the direct protection of Albus Dumbledore (See Hogwarts Headmasters in index)."

Harry was about to research 'Hirtus Figulus' when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly slammed the book shut and shoved it back where it belonged, trying his best to appear like he had been doing his assigned job the entire time.

Malfoy walked over to where Harry was sitting crouched on the floor, pretending to be completely absorbed in reorganizing the bottom shelf, and cleared his throat loudly. Harry squinted up at him, his eyes genuinely tired from having been reading for so long.

As his vision refocused, he had to swallow with great difficulty. Malfoy was leaning against the bookshelf, his arms folded in front of him, amusement dancing across his pale features. Harry's thoughts were forcefully taken back to Flourish and Blotts, the place where this horrible mess with Malfoy had first began, and the inevitable image of the two kissing Slytherins crept back.

After a few seconds of the flustered Gryffindor gawking at him, Malfoy rolled his silver eyes impatiently. "I know I'm unbearably gorgeous, Potty, but do you think you can forget about that for a minute?"

Harry blinked himself into the present, kicking himself for being so distracted by the boy in front of him. 'The last thing I need is for Malfoy to tell all of his little friends that I have a crush and drooled all over him,' he scolded.

"What do you want then?" he asked harshly, turning back to his task so that he wouldn't have to look at the blonde any longer. He violently thrust 'Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century' next to 'Great Wizarding Events of the 19th Century'.

Malfoy snorted, not bothering to mention his rival's failure to deny his previous statement. "It's already 12:30," he said, holding up a wizard equivalent of a pocket watch. "Unless you want to spend the entire night here, I would recommend you run back up to your tower." He made to leave, but paused, turning to face the Gryffindor. "I must say, Potter, I've never seen you so dedicated to getting something done. Perhaps this experience will do your lazy ass a bit of good. It's a lesson you desperately need to learn. Not everything in life will be handed over to you on a golden platter just because you're famous, Potter. I guarantee that with me in charge, you're going to learn what it means to actually have to work, just like the rest of us."

Thinking of all the back-breaking labor he had done over the years at the Dursley's, Harry couldn't help the laughter that escaped at the end of Malfoy's condescending speech. He finally picked himself up from the ground, dusting off his slacks. "Malfoy, you have no idea what you're talking about," he began, still chuckling despite the apparent anger on the Slytherin's face. "Besides, you're certainly one to talk, seeing as your own precious hands have probably never lifted anything heavier than your wand."

Quicker than Harry could blink, said wand was pointed directly at him. "Maybe you're right," Malfoy said smoothly, stepping closer to a much more sober Harry, "but I assure you that I've grown quite good at not only carrying my wand, but using it." The insinuation wasn't lost on the raven- haired teenager, who felt a brief moment of panic. Seeing Harry start to reach for his own wand, Malfoy pressed the tip of the wood against Harry's chest. "I don't think so, Golden Boy."

"What, are you going to curse me, Malfoy?" Harry taunted, feigning indifference to both the danger of the situation and the effect the boy's nearness was having on him. "Still after your bit of revenge, seeing as how your plan this morning didn't quite take off like you wanted?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly, and a flash of puzzlement crossed his face so swiftly that Harry wasn't sure if he had imagined it. They stood glaring at each other for a solid minute before Malfoy finally moved, closing the distance between them. Harry froze, unsure of whether he should back up or not. Some strange part of him desperately wanted to stay where he was, even press more firmly against his enemy, but a voice of reason had him walking backwards until he felt the resistance of a bookshelf behind him.

Step for step, Malfoy followed, smirking when the Gryffindor could go no further. Lifting his free hand, Malfoy took Harry's chin in a tight grasp, preventing the emerald gaze from looking away. It was all Harry could do to stay still, the feel of Malfoy's skin on his own making him painfully confused as to whether he wanted to grab Malfoy or spit on him.

Suddenly a small smile inched across Malfoy's lips. "Don't worry, Potter. It's taking off perfectly," he whispered. The hand retreated its grip, but Malfoy didn't move away. "Same time and place tomorrow night," he concluded softly.

The loss of physical contact helped Harry to be able to think once more, and with the ability came the horrible awareness that he wanted Malfoy's touch again. He was about to give up fighting and lean forward into the Slytherin when Malfoy finally decided to back off, giving plenty of space between the two of them.

With one last look at his archrival, Malfoy turned and walked out of the aisle, leaving a stunned Harry to watch his exit.

*

Later that night, Harry lay in his bed, still thoroughly baffled at Malfoy's behavior and his own reaction to it. He had sat in the library for a good fifteen minutes after Malfoy had left, paralyzed. It was only now, in the comfort of his own room, that everything began to sink in. Bewildered almost to the point of tears, he tried to logically sort out what had happened.

'Okay,' he thought, pulling his Gryffindor-red covers more tightly around him. 'Malfoy just.... What? What did he do exactly? Threatened me? Challenged me? Flirted with me, for Merlin's sake??' Rolling over, he smothered his face into his pillow, trying to erase the last hour from his mind.

When his breath started to run out, he turned his head to the side, and breathed in the fresh air coming in the open tower window, briefly wondering how Lupin was doing when he saw the moon was full, before returning to the problem at hand. The only way he could think of to sum everything up was this: Malfoy was a homosexual; Malfoy had made advances towards him (in fact, he seemed rather fond of getting Harry backed up against walls), a decidedly heterosexual boy; and Harry had found each situation embarrassing, revolting, infuriating.. But also, admittedly intriguing, exciting, and arousing.

'So where does this leave me? Does that mean I'm turning gay, too?' Harry questioned. There was no way in the seven realms of hell that he was going to act on these feelings, whatever they were. He would just have to avoid Malfoy as if he had the plague, which apparently the wizarding world held in equivalence with being homosexual. 'I'll apologize tomorrow in detention, so that I can get that obstacle over with, and that's it. Other than that, I completely ignore the prat - no matter what,' he determined.

*

Project 'Avoid Ferret' was much easier said than done. Harry hadn't taken into account that his night would be filled with restless dreams of Malfoy (undoubtedly induced from spending too much time thinking about the Slytherin), which he could barely even remember in the morning. This could be easily fixed with a simple Dreamless Sleep Draught from Madam Pomfrey, however, so he wasn't too worried. He would just tell her that they were Voldemort related and the motherly nurse would practically shove the Draught down his throat each night before bed.

He also had to spend two hours locked in the dungeons with Malfoy for their Potions class, but he toughed it out, sticking to his resolve even when Malfoy and his friends began to picking on him again throughout the lesson, until even Snape had enough of the distractions and threatened to take a point away from his own house. During meals, he sat at his table with his back to the Slytherins, not even allowing himself the opportunity to look in Malfoy's direction, despite his irrational longing to.

The day went rather quickly, and Harry soon found himself trudging over to the library at eight o'clock on the button. He decided to not bother checking in with Malfoy, and instead headed directly to the History section. Only then did he remember what he had read about Hirtus Figulus, and he took care to put some books aside that had the name listed in the back, with the intentions of taking the texts back to his dormitory. The subject fascinated him, and the curious Gryffindor thought perhaps Hermione and Ron would want to help him research what could have possibly happened to their founder's heir.

"Hermione probably already knows all about it," he muttered to himself, imagining her reaction when he brought it up ("We studied this in Binn's class last year! If you and Ron had actually paid attention and taken notes instead of falling asleep and leaving me to do it for you, you might have heard the professor mention it!")

He had only been working for half an hour when Malfoy predictably came stalking over, unpleasantness etched on his face. Harry continued to ignore him until the blonde finally spoke. "If you insist on not letting me know when you arrive, I'll have to assume that you were late," Malfoy scowled, running a hand over his slicked pale hair. Remembered how soft and strong that hand had felt last night on his chin, Harry merely shrugged, refusing to look fully at the Head Boy. His frown darkening at Harry's lack of response, Malfoy continued, "Well, then, that's fifty points from Gryffindor. I warned you about this the other day, Potter."

That got the green-eyed boy's attention. He turned around, glaring, and was about to offer a nasty retort at this injustice when he was reminded of the reason for his plan and stopped. Even when completely furious, his body reacted to the strange new attraction it felt for Malfoy. He pushed this as far away from his consciousness as he could, trying to focus instead on what he needed to say. The difficulty he found in such a simple task just made it all the more important to get it over with.

"Malfoy," he began as rushed and sincere as he could manage with his striking rival raising an arrogant eyebrow and tapping an impatient foot at him, "I'm really sorry for blurting out your secret to everyone on the train. I said some truly horrible things that I'm ashamed of, and I hope that I haven't caused too much trouble for you or Nott." The other silver eyebrow lifted to be level with the first. Whatever Malfoy had been expecting of the Gryffindor, this was clearly the last, and Harry concealed a smirk of his own as the boy gaped at him.

Suddenly a look of understanding crossed his face, and, quickly regaining his composure, Malfoy folded his arms, stone faced. "Are you finished, Potter?" At Harry's hesitant nod, he continued coldly, "I'm not going to reinstate the house points, so I'm afraid you've just humbled yourself for nothing. Did that at least help to alleviate some of the guilt you've been feeling? Will you be able to sleep soundly now, you selfish bastard? Because I assure you that I don't, so just fuck off with your pathetic apologies." Harry was astounded and appalled to see genuine hurt hidden in the stormy grey eyes that fixed angrily onto his own emerald ones. Without another word, the Slytherin walked away.

Harry stood frozen still, watching him go, and felt the sudden urge to call him back and heal whatever pain he had caused the taller teenager. He hadn't realized how powerfully his slip of tongue had affected Malfoy, he had thought Malfoy was practically made out of ice, incapable of actual feelings. He wasn't able to sleep properly because of what happened?

'Okay, this is worse than I originally thought,' he worried silently. 'It's one thing to be going through some teenage phase that has me lusting after my enemy, but to actually be concerned and care about the git?? That's entirely unacceptable! How is he having this influence on me?' Whatever it was, there was no use in denying his own response to Malfoy any longer. The bugger had gotten to him somehow, and now he had to find a way of either dealing with it, or getting rid of it. Preferably the latter of the two.

Chewing his lower lip in concentration, an idea struck him out of nowhere. It was so obvious that Harry almost laughed at his foolishness in not having considered it before. 'Of course! How could I have been so stupid?' He was a wizard, by Merlin's beard! There had to be some sort of magical solution to his predicament. He knew there were such things as love potions, though most were considered dark and illegal, but all he had to do was find a proper legal spell or potion that would do the reverse, making his enemy an enemy once more, and he would be cured of this affliction that had taken hold of him. It was a task made quite attainable considering that he had the entire Hogwarts library to look through at his disposal, thanks to his month of detention.

Relief swept through him like a refreshing breeze. As soon as he found the spell, this entire ordeal would be over and he could move on with his life, continuing to hate Malfoy just as much as he ever had. There would be no more stolen glances, no more being caught off-guard by the pangs in his chest, and no more turning into a queer.

Now that he had an actual tactic for this War of the Emotions, he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Picking up the books he had selected from the History section, Harry eagerly made his way to Spells and Enchantments. Slowly arranging them in their proper order, Harry spent the rest of his detention taking special care to check any volume that looked like it could be of use to him.

Only once did he pause to consider that perhaps this wasn't the best idea, as magic that dealt with the emotions was extremely temperamental and he was yet a fully trained wizard, but he quickly squashed the growing uncertainty. He may not know everything, but he was still a damned good wizard, according to most, having cast a corporal Patronus at the age of thirteen. And this was his only option, as he utterly refused to have any sort of desire or feelings for his nemesis, and didn't dare wait for them to go away on their own for fear that they simply wouldn't.

'Once I've cast the spell, everything will be normal again,' he reassured himself.

Now all he had to do was hold back any passion he felt when he was stuck around Malfoy until then. He winced inwardly at the inner voice that told him that this, too, would be easier said than done.

~*~