The Master Plan

Chapter Thirty Two: Like Moths to a Flame (Did I just use that phrase?! Good Christ, I HATE MOTHS!)

Just a few nights later, they were all back in detention, scribbling furiously. Harry paid every word that fell from the man's lips special attention. Snape moved slowly, stiffly, and the agony he endured was etched upon his face in barely discernible fine lines. When he spoke, the rancor and irony that had liberally coloured his speech was conspicuously absent. Harry hated that. He hated how the man had softened around the edges, and seemed to make the effort to be kind to them. He wondered if it meant the Potions Master had been broken. He speculated about if Snape thought he was going to die soon, and was trying to make some sort of piece before he went. The thought made Harry very, very angry. He wasn't sure why, or at whom, but he could taste bile at the back of his throat.

"Many magical artifacts are, in fact, not terribly useful." Snape told them quietly. "Can anyone aside-from-you-Granger tell me why?"

"Ah, because they're so bloody famous everyone knows what'll stop them?" Ron guessed.

"An overly simplistic explanation." Snape sighed. "Potter, what about you? You've seen a few. You all have, though I doubt you recognized them. Ask yourself; where does one shop for a Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Er..." Harry said. "You can't. Um. I mean; you can't buy a Sword of Gryffindor--there's only one, and I don't think it's for sale. Is that what you're after? That magical artifacts are rare and dear?"

"Indeed," Snape inclined his head. "And many of them are quite flashy, drawing the eye. There are only a handful of legendary charmed objects of which more than one copy was made. This means they are somewhat less expensive than items of the exclusive variety. Unfortunately, most of the more common artifacts are infused with extremely dark magic. Stepping stones which ensnare the unwary walker, candles or lamps whose smoke is a confusing, mind-slowing fume, necklaces that strangle the wearer--"

"That's right!" Harry exclaimed. "Like that one I saw in Knockturn Alley!" He flushed as Snape turned to him, both eyebrows shooting up. "Er, back in second year," he explained bashfully. "It was kind of an accident. I saw the Malfoys there. They were selling stuff."

"Indeed," Severus replied, returning to the chalkboard. "The Malfoy estate is a veritable wonderland of dark magic. If I wanted to show you an example of each and every dark artifact ever created--at least, those within Lucius's power to buy--I'd take you there and let you run around the grounds a bit. Of course, you'd all be dead within minutes." He raised a brow at their engrossed faces. "Lucius takes home security very seriously. However, there are a few items of less...destructive composition to be had. Rings of 'Refuge' may be found in a few dusty shops--for an extremely prohibitive price, of course. If you have the money, it is almost worth it. A Ring of Refugium is one of the few items inconspicuous enough to get away with, and it will absorb great amounts of pain, leaving the wearer clear-headed in even the most excruciating circumstance. They may allow one to survive situations that one usually could not--at least, not with one's sanity intact..."

As class ended, Harry approached the man's desk quietly. "Sir?"

"What is it, Potter?" the man replied. He sounded tired, reluctant, but not irritable or cross.

"Ah. I'll be at Hogsmead this weekend. Um. Christmas, you know? I've reserved the Three Broomsticks--it'll be a grand Christmas party; decorations, dancing, all that stuff you hate. It's a teenage thing, mostly. Only one adult will be there outside of the employees, and that'll be Tonks. It's just an excuse to, you know, let it out...get a little wild and crazy and release some of the tension we've all been feeling."

"It sounds utterly wretched. Repugnant, even. Is there some reason you're divulging this information to me?" He scowled at the boy challengingly.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I knew you'd hate the sound of it. It's not really my kind of thing, either, to tell you the truth. Um. But I wondered; if you had a chance, would you possibly consider stopping by? Just for a couple of moments? I'd like to. Er. That is, I sort of have a present for you and. We decided to um. To put them under the tree in the pub. Hagrid got them a really great tree; you should see it! But, um. Anyway, it'll be there. If you want it. And I...I. You don't have to come, of course. It doesn't matter." Severus's eyebrow was slowly arching incredulously. Damn, fucking burning hot face. He thought he'd finally gotten that licked. "Like I said, I know it's not really your type of thing. I don't want to try to force you into anything you wouldn't enjoy. I'd just. I'd really like to see you. There. Is all." Harry swallowed.

"And exactly who else has been invited to this little festivity?" Snape enquired.

Harry shrugged. "Well, not everyone. Most of our year, though. Ron and Hermione. Er. Seamus, Padma, Dean, Jack...Blaise...Malfoy...a few other Slytherins." He grew defensive at the teacher's heated look. "I'm trying to make peace with the Slytherins, all right? And I'm trying to get them to make peace with each other."

"Harry. You must see that that would be a truly bad idea. Anywhere Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy are, you and I should not be seen together. And. Really, I honestly would prefer not to attend, if even for a moment. As you said, it is not my...scene, or what have you."

He was surprised when Harry gave him a half smile, not looking at all crushed. He wondered why it made him feel strangely wistful. "It doesn't matter," the boy told him. "I knew you wouldn't want to come. But I still think you should; Lupin is dropping by, too, you know. Just long enough to get his gifts. We aren't actually going to let him stay. I mean, I love him and all, but the parental act he's been doing lately is kind of a downer." They both managed a weak laugh at this. Harry offered Snape another smile and wave, and the man nodded goodbye.

______________________________________________________________

Harry sat inside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where it was warm enough to drape their cloaks over the backs of their chairs. Blaise had had an odd craving for ice cream, of all things, so he dragged them to the shop, where they must have looked decidedly odd, peeling off mittens and heavy cloaks to get at the sweets. The group of friends decided to meet the day before the party. Harry shared a banana-strawberry split with Seamus Finnegan, who had convinced him that, as a relative newcomer to the gay male scene, the last thing he needed was to get fat. Blaise had scoffed at that and, as a rebuttal, had ordered a triple-decker "Fortescue's Palatable Pillar of Pleasure," a formidable treat made of tiers of chocolate and butterscotch ice cream, caramel syrup, nuts, cherries and whipped cream. Harry was sick just looking at it.

Harry listened to the chatter around him as he pushed his food around, letting Seamus do most of the eating. His mind could not stay on the present conversation, but kept wandering back to words spoken almost a week ago. 'It jeopardizes us both, having him here.' Jeopardizes. I put him in jeopardy. He's in danger because of me. They only want him because of me. They're using him to try to get to me. Harry couldn't let that happen. '...Another burden...' But he had been, hadn't he? '...refuse to be his weakness...' but Harry didn't want to be Severus's weakness, either.

"Come on, Harry," he heard Blaise say. "Why don't we take some time to ourselves? Find somewhere to be alone for a little while?"

He shrugged, not really feeling up to it. "Maybe some other time," he offered.

Blaise frowned at his distracted...friend? "Yeah? It's not like we're here all that often, you know. Some other time? Like when?"

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow..." Harry muttered, not even hearing himself.

"Harry!" he started, looking up to see Hermione beaming at him. "I didn't know you knew any Shakespeare! Do you like Macbeth?"

"Shakespeare?" he responded, slowly understanding. "Ah. I knew it was familiar. No, I mean; yes, but I'd just heard someone say it recently, and I guess it kind of stuck in my head." He noticed Ron and Seamus were looking at him oddly, and he realized it was kind of out of character to be like this; gloomy, passive, throwing random Shakespearian quotes at them. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Well," said Blaise, attempting to lighten the mood, "I've never been that fond of his stuff. The sonnets were all well and good, but...I prefer other Muggle writers. Keats. Browning. 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.'" He took a great lick from his cone. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach--"he paused, working his tongue over the chocolate again, causing Ron to turn rather green and avert his eyes. "...I love thee freely, as men strive for Right..." Harry stared, amused, as the boy interspersed the verses with pauses to eat his ice cream in the most indecent way imaginable. "...I shall but love thee better, after death," he finished, running a tongue around the outside of his mouth, which was coated with sticky residue. He gave Harry a naughty smile.

Harry laughed, turning the boy's leer to a scowl. "God, Blaise," he snickered. "Only you could make Shakespeare into a lewd version of a tootsie roll pop commercial."

Blaise stuck out his tongue. "It wasn't Shakespeare," he informed Harry. "It was Browning. Ignorant arse."

Just then a voice called out, "Harry!" and Harry turned to see Tonks and Hagrid walking toward them, with Severus grudgingly in tow.

"Hey!" he cried, and leapt up to give Tonks a hug. "Oh, man, is it ever great to see you! Everyone! It's the most bitchin' witch that ever was! Whadda we say?"

"To Tonks!" everyone at the table immediately responded, lifting their ice creams or spoons as though raising glasses of champagne. "Tonks! Tonks! Tonks!" She laughed, waving them to silence as Severus glared. He could not fathom the meaning behind the bizarre little ritual.

"Ah, and I'm glad to see you, too, Harry," she grinned at him, arm still around his shoulders.

"Are you doing all right?" Harry inquired seriously. "Everything going well? You don't have to tell me anything. Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you, okay? Sincerely, I'll do it. You're one of the best, you know. I totally appreciate everything you've done for me."

Tonks rolled her eyes, blushing a little. "You're a good man, Harry," she told him, proving why he liked her so much. "But oh, you do go on," she shoved him playfully, rather harder than she might have meant to do. He was knocked into the table, where he ended up sitting in what was left of the banana-strawberry split. He flinched. "Oops. Er. Sorry about that, mate," Tonks said anxiously, ducking her head.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Harry told her resignedly. "These things just seem to happen to me."

"Um, Harry," Finnegan began, "I hope you don't mind, but I think I'll forgo the rest of the ice cream. Particularly the bit you're wearing. I'll leave THAT for Zabini," he added, smiling sweetly at the Slytherin.

"Thanks," Zabini replied dryly, spoon held casually, looking like a slender silver cigarette. "You'd just better." He winked at Harry, and Harry smiled weakly back.

"Er, Harry? You been doin' all righ'?" Hagrid questioned, bushy eyebrows raised.

"Sure, Hagrid, why wouldn't I be?" Harry wiped at his rear futilely with a napkin. He dimly heard Hermione say something about Flourish and Blotts.

"What time is it, anyway?" he heard one of them ask.

"No idea," he replied. "Threw my watch out recently. Piece of rubbish had been dead for months."

Severus shook his head. "You no longer wear your watch? What do you use to--" he stopped and looked askance at Tonks.

"Tell the time?" Harry smiled at him. "The position of the sun." Severus scowled at him. Cheeky little bastard. "Everyone kept asking me why I went on wearing it when it was completely useless. Guess I'll have to find something else, won't I?"

"Well...er." Hagrid interjected. "Would you mind if I happened to tag aroun' a bit with yeh today? Only it's a ways from Hogwarts, see, and dark things been goin' on..." he added in a bit of an undertone. He was twisting his hands a little, and Harry was touched. Hagrid was worried about him, wanted to be near to protect him, with Voldemort's recent increase in activity. Was that why Snape was there, as well? Most of his friends had left the table, heading unhurriedly for the bookstore.

Harry looked at Snape questioningly, but the man, whose eyes were focused somewhere lower than Harry's own, took a few moments to notice. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, turn around. Can't you manage a simple cleaning charm? Here, let me clean you up. Your arse is covered with cream." Harry was turning, so he didn't get to linger on the sight, but he did see the man wince, and a dark red began to suffuse his face. He kept his back turned during the spell, hoping his shoulders weren't shaking too noticeably with suppressed laughter, or he'd really catch it. Who knew that Severus Snape could blush?

"Um." He cleared his throat a little, when he'd managed to gain control. "Are you coming, too?"

"Severus and I have things we've gotta do," Tonks told him regretfully, and Harry gave her a commiserating look. "I'll see you tomorrow, though..."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that'll be..." he trailed off, losing his concentration as he realized his friends were getting ahead of him. Most of them were already outside. "Oy!" he hollered at them, "You're about to lose the bloody Boy Who Lived! You can't leave without me! I'm supposed to be your freakin' Savior!"

"Oh, that's RIGHT," Seamus yelled back, rolling his eyes and laughing. He was the only one not through the front door of the shop, by now. "Hey guys, wait! We forgot the decoy! I mean--the 'Messiah!'" he shouted to the others.

"Aw, man!" Harry exclaimed, running to catch up. "C'mon, Hagrid. You coming or what? Seamus, I'm telling you; that was sodding blasphemous!" he chided. "You just keep it up and I will SMITE you! I'll so totally smite your butts from here to Zimbabwe, you hear me?" Grinning, he nodded a goodbye to Tonks over his shoulder. "To stuff, right?"

Tonks grinned and raised her hand in the air, too, like a toast. "And things!"

"And fish!" They both chorused, and Harry laughed, closing the door to the shop behind him. Severus watched all this with an odd sense of dissatisfaction. He almost felt as though he had intruded in a happy, innocent little life--a private gathering of friends. For a long time now, he had been used to his solitude and isolation. He'd chosen it. He preferred it that way. So why, then, did he now have such a strange feeling in his stomach...of jealousy? He could hardly credit it, but for a brief moment, Severus Snape had...a wish to belong.

Everyone was laughing. And dancing. And blowing things up. Or, at least playing with the latest inventions of the Weasley Twins, which amounted to the same thing. Rosemerta was kept hard at work, putting out small fires as much as serving the butterbeer. Tonks was kept busy by George, who was flirting mercilessly with her.

When Draco Malfoy showed up, a silver decanter full of some strong substance was added to Hermione's homemade punch, and this made the night all the better. Most everyone was getting a little giggly and stupid, but that didn't matter. Harry had three glasses, and although Tonks raised her eyebrows at the last one, she never said anything. She was well liked by Harry and his friends for a very good reason; so long as they followed what she considered to be the important rules (generally the ones that pertained to their safety) she let them mess about and get away with an awful lot of things that most other adults would have frowned on.

She'd let them drink. And smoke, (Harry had tried it, but didn't like it. And stopped immediately when Tonks suggested developing a hacking cough wouldn't be a great asset if he ever had to run from Voldemort,) and snog all they liked. She stopped arguments from becoming fistfights, the worst forms of magical retribution, and out and out shagging, but other than that, she stayed pretty hands-off. In return she was, of course, adored. She was the perfect chaperone for Harry's Christmas party. She was sensible, whimsical and, for the most part, really tolerant. She had a stack of gifts as high as her waist by the tree.

Every gay guy in the upper classes had been invited, and most had come. Harry listened bemusedly as the Blackbirds argued with the Little Red Riding Hoods about ways of getting Snape or Lupin to do something sexy for Christmas. "Oh, it's easy," Jack, who was head of the Reds, was telling them. ("Dark creatures just make me hot, all right?" he'd once told Harry.) The Blackbirds were shaking their heads, but no one said anything. Apparently, their president had resigned a few weeks ago, and no one had stepped in to fill the shoes of 'Supreme Snape Seducer.'

"What I want," one of the Slytherins was saying, "is to hear him say something dirty in that voice. He has such a good voice!"

"A good voice?" said Harry scornfully. "A GOOD VOICE? Please. When God said, 'Let there be light,' he said it in that voice. A voice like that isn't a GOOD voice. It's a GOD's voice. It's a steamy, hard-on-inducing, earth-shaking, if-sex-was-concentrated-into-one-sound-it-would-be-THAT-sound sort of voice." There was a babble of enthusiastic agreement.

Harry flushed when Jack rolled his eyes and said, 'Doesn't it just figure? Golden Boy happens to be a closet Blackbird." Harry couldn't help it. Snape's voice was gorgeous. Well. It was. He just wished he could hear it, just then.

Everybody was having a fantastic time. A wonderful time. An enchanted, magnificent, tremendous, very good time. Except for Harry. He knew Severus wouldn't come. He'd steeled himself for the rejection when he went to ask the man. He shouldn't be disappointed just because he really didn't come. It was getting late. Only about an hour before midnight, and in just a few hours the gifts would be exchanged, and then the party would be over. And Severus's gifts would still be sitting there, like a group of unwanted, jilted brides.

"Another round of punch!" he heard someone yell. "This one's my round!" Seamus cried. "And anybody that can get Lupin naked for Christmas gets crowned King of the Reds!" Harry shook his head, trying not to listen.

"Hey; Harry..." he turned, or tried to turn, but found an arm around his middle. Blaise rested his head against Harry's back. "Let's find a quiet corner, shall we? Hmm? Or somewhere more secluded? I could give you a real Christmas gift."

Harry held in a sigh. He liked Blaise, but he loved Severus. And wanted to be with Severus, even though he knew it would never happen. But being with Blaise, well, it was getting harder and harder to pretend. "When Tonks could come chasing after us at any time? Nah..." He felt Blaise stiffen in offense, and turned quickly. "Look, you know what I would really like? If and when we decide to do this...I want it to be more than what we usually do. You're special to me. You deserve for it to be special. You deserve to be treated like you're something important. And this would be...you know, my first time. I want it to be more than a quick grope in the broom closet. More than a fast fix in the Astronomy Tower. Something really great. So that I have this one brilliant memory, and even when Voldemort finally catches me, and when he's got me in so much pain it's as though he's pouring molten lead into my very bones, I can still remember you. And still remember that. And have something to hold onto." He leaned his forehead against Blaise's, shutting his eyes. He wasn't exactly lying; he did want that. Just not with Blaise. After a moment or two, he realized Blaise was shaking. "What is it? What's wrong?" He pulled away, holding the boy by his shoulders.

"Harry...I don't. I don't think I can give something like that. That's big, that's...just...bigger than I am." He shook his head and smiled wanly. "You just. God. You're too deep sometimes, you know? I'm afraid of drowning in you. Harry, I'm just...not like that. I need to think this over. I need some space, some time to sort myself out. Because...God, Harry. You're asking so much. I don't think you even realize how much you're asking."

Harry stared at him. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No! No, not...exactly. I don't want to stop seeing you. I don't want you to feel tied down to me, though. And I want some space to be with other guys, too."

"You want to BE WITH OTHER GUYS?" Harry demanded, starting to get angry. "You don't want to break up, but you want to be with other guys?"

"I want to get some perspective! That's all! I want a chance to reevaluate this and decide whether I want to--to--bare my soul to someone, or just have meaningless sex with them! It's a big fucking decision! I'm unused to having deal with issues of this depth or magnitude! All right? Harry, I." His eyes were wide, desperate. "I think I love you," he whispered. "And perhaps you Gryffindors, in all your resplendent artlessness, are totally at home with it, but quite frankly, it scares the fuck out of me. I--I just need some time to think. That's all. Before making any big decisions."

Harry took a couple of deep breaths, calming down. How could he have gotten angry with Blaise over this? How could he be such a fucking hypocrite? He didn't even love Blaise, and here he was, demanding the Slytherin's devotion. Not right. "Yeah. Okay," he said, wondering why it still hurt. "I guess I...I think I can understand that."

"Good," Blaise replied, giving him an unsteady smile. "I'm going to. I'm going to...sit down or something, for a little while."

Harry watched him sort of totter away, his mind a whirl of confusing thoughts and emotions. What a horrible Christmas. First Severus hadn't come, and now Blaise had ambiguously dumped him. Fuck. He needed another glass of punch. He was on his fifth, and flying high, wondering, 'What the hell did Draco PUT in there, anyways?' when Malfoy himself was suddenly next to him. For a hazy moment, he wondered if the alcohol was strong enough to be giving him hallucinations, but then Malfoy spoke.

"Enjoying your party, Potter?" he sounded more subdued than he did ordinarily, but that didn't keep Harry from scowling.

"Not particularly, if you want to know the truth," Harry finally admitted, looking glumly into his cup.

"Sorry to hear that. I'm having a swell time. Um. How many glasses have you had?" Draco was looking at him sideways. Or perhaps the room was sideways. Harry wasn't certain, any more.

He shrugged. "Lost count. Something over three. Five or six? Eh. Who cares?" He lifted the glass to his lips and was surprised to have it tugged loose from his hand. "What're you doin'?"

Draco looked critically at the glass, which was still more than half full. He drank the whole thing down in one go, and Harry was impressed. Even a swallow of that stuff left his throat burning slightly. "Saving you the bother of finishing thish glass. This glash. Um. You know," Draco replied. "You're not...you shouldn't have so much...Do you have any idea what's IN this punch?"

"I was JUST WONDERING about that!" Harry burst out enthusiastically, causing Draco to laugh. Harry was beaming at him, obviously a happy drunk. "And do you have any more of it?" Draco snickered and pulled another small flask from his pocket. "Oh, good show, man! Put it in, then," he gestured toward the bowl, which had been replenished with punch, but bereft of alcohol. "Go on, put it in!"

"You've probably had enough," Draco said uncertainly. "I've probably had enough."

"Yeah, but there are fifty or sixty other people here. Have they all had enough? Go on..." he pushed Draco over to the bowl, and clapped when the Slytherin tilted the container and poured the slightly green liquid in. "HEY EVERYONE," Harry yelled, right next to Draco's ear. He flinched, giving the Gryffindor a dirty look. "Get some more punch! This round's on me!" Harry laughed when he was pushed out of the way by the teenagers, who were more than happy to imbibe. Draco rolled his eyes. A magnanimous drunk, as well.

He was startled when Draco yanked on his arm, saying, "Move it, Potter. How stupid do you have to be to recognize a stampede when you see one?" Harry was still contemplating this, unmoving, so Draco pulled harder. Harry stumbled into the blond, who promptly tripped into one of the chairs, and found himself with a lapful of Harry. At any other time they both would have been horrified, but Draco had had four glasses of the punch that had been inbued with "Draco Malfoy's Own Vatted, 200-proof, Ultra-Enchanted, Thrice-Distilled Moonshine" (Patent Pending). And Harry'd had five. Or six. So they merely burst into hysterical laughter.

"Get off me, Potter," Draco whined. "You're putting my legs to sleep." He gave Harry a push, sending him crashing to the floor. Snickering again, Draco offered his hand, and Harry pulled himself up.

"Oh, thanks a heap, Malfoy," he groaned, pulling a chair over to sit next to him. "Like I'm not clumsy enough on my own, you have to go and get me drunk, too?"

Draco gave him a not-very-apologetic grin. "Sorry." He swallowed a couple of times, and Harry noticed that he was even paler than usual. He met Harry's eyes for a moment, before looking away. "And I'm...sorry about outing you, and that."

"Yeah. Why did you, though? I mean...you didn't seriously think I'd do it, did you?" He looked over the Slytherin, puzzled. He was finding it hard to focus.

Draco shrugged, still not looking at him. "Thought it would be funny," he muttered. "I kind of didn't expect you to turn around and scream about it from the Gryffindor tabletop. Although that, at least, really was rather funny." He gave Harry a wry smile. Harry smiled back. "At any rate...I heard your little argument with Blaise, earlier. About him wanting to do other guys?" Harry's smile froze. "Look..." Draco said softly, "you actually made it longer with him than anyone else ever has, if that helps at all. Most guys are just a one-night thing, to Blaise. I managed to make it a whole week with him. It's not his fault, exactly. He can't help catting around, it's like some sort of feral urge or something."

"Don't talk about him like that," Harry said sharply, nails digging into his palms.

Draco looked surprised. "You're still being protective of him, aren't you?" He chuckled bitterly and looked away. "Still, that's just your job, isn't it? Protect the whole fucking world."

"Yeah, that's me," Harry agreed, sounding just as bitter. "Take the pain, absorb the blow, annihilate the bad guy, probably get fried in the process...all part of a day's work, for wonderful Harry fucking Potter. I need another drink."

"No, you don't." Draco immediately responded. "You're already drunk enough. And so am I." He was looking at Harry strangely. "I must be drunk; I could swear you seemed...almost attractive, for a moment, with your creamy skin and the flush of rose staining your cheeks. It's the drink that does that, you know." Harry wasn't sure what he meant. He was hardly paying attention, looking over Draco's shoulder. Blaise was leaning close to Jack, smiling suggestively and talking animatedly. Chatting him up. Harry felt jealousy roaring up inside. Thank God Severus didn't do things like that; it would probably kill him. Stupid Blaise.

"Let's find a place to make out," he suggested.

Draco looked shocked. "There's a toilet down the hallway," he responded, sounding on autopilot. His face still blank, he let Harry pull him to his feet and drag him along. "Are you doing this to get back at Blaise?" he asked shrewdly, as Harry maneuvered him into the bathroom.

"Yeah. Are you doing this to get back at me?" Harry threw back, shutting the door and pressing his lips against Draco's.

"Probably," Draco conceded in a muffled voice.

Running his hands through the silvery hair in drunken abandon, he felt Draco's hands all over him. As Harry slid his hands downward, The blond's breath became short, and Harry heard him whimper. He jerked his hands back up and whispered, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know."

"Potter," Draco moaned, "For fuck's sake, you don't need to speak to me as if I were some kind of blushing virgin bride. And if I want you to stop doing something, you're damn well going to know, because I'm going to knee you in the crotch."

Half an hour later, the restroom door was yanked open, and Tonks and Snape stood framed in the doorway. "I knew I'd find the two of you here," Snape growled at them.

"You did? Really?" Harry said, blinking in the sudden light. "If people want to find me and the first place they think to look is in the WC, where I'm making out with Draco Malfoy, there must be some really odd rumors flying around about me."

"Harry," Tonks said gently, pulling him out, "if I'd known you were that drunk, I would have taken you home."

Harry glanced at Draco's face, feeling irked. "Oh, so I'd have to be really drunk, then, would I?" he replied belligerently.

"Or stupid," Snape agreed. Draco was staring at Harry, who'd had absolutely no reason to stand up for him. It made him feel...strange.

"It's time for presents," Tonks said quietly. "I don't think anyone realized where you went, and we are not going to enlighten them. I think it would be smart if you both kept your mouths shut. No one would approve, you know."

"I don't care who approves," Harry grumbled, trailing behind. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see Draco, looking serious and sober.

"She. She's right, Harry," the boy said, looking, for some strange reason, rather frightened. "We won't do this again."

"Suit yourself," Harry shrugged, looking surprised. He didn't care one way or the other. And Snape. Snape was here! Draco was walking toward the front door, which seemed curious to Harry. Leaving before presents? He'd thought Draco far too acquisitive for that.

Just before Harry rounded the corner, he heard Draco call to him in a quiet, shaky voice. "Watch your back, Harry. Don't go into any more WCs with strangers. He's after you, Harry. You know that, don't you? He's after you." Harry whirled to face the Slytherin, but Draco was gone.