Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,220
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: I am a horrible person who did not respond to ONE comment on the last chapter! I've been uber busy and crazy. I'm sorry! I read and adored each and every single one. I'm so, so happy everyone is still enjoying it. You're all amazing. <3
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Nine
Draco sat in Potions with his back rigid, trying and failing to listen to the professor’s lecture on Mandrake Draught, the potion Madam Pomfrey had used in their second year to revive the petrified students. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have found this very interesting, not only because he liked Potions, but because the theory itself was interesting.
These weren’t normal circumstances, though. Because Draco could feel Potter’s eyes on him. He could physically feel it, as though it wasn’t Potter’s eyes raking over his skin but the boy’s hands. He thought that if it were possible to burst into flames, he would have.
He couldn’t decide if Anthony Goldstein being in the class made it better or worse. Worse because he sat directly next to Potter and that caused a horrible jealous feeling to boil in the pit of Draco’s stomach; better because Potter was actually ignoring his boyfriend in favor of staring at Draco.
He remembered the wet hug from last night and the cheeky grin Potter had worn and decided that it was definitely better.
This conclusion was made all the more resolute when, just before Potter stood up at the end of class and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, he stole a glance at Draco and smirked as he turned away. A flush spread across Draco’s cheeks and seemed to sink into his very skin, making his stomach coil, and reached all the way down to his groin. Draco was fairly certain he’d never been so turned on by a mere look before.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered?”
Draco whipped around to find Pansy staring at him with an eyebrow raised. He flushed, if possible, harder than before and swiftly grabbed his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. She followed him from the room, the expression on her face indicating she’d just realized she’d stumbled onto a puzzle. Perhaps a more astute friend might have realized there was a puzzle a long time ago, but Pansy never had been particularly bright. He only hoped her lack of intelligence kept her from putting the pieces of this puzzle together now that she’d finally recognized it.
“What are you on about?” he drawled.
“You look like you’ve just got done wanking.” She laughed when he shot her an incredulous look. “Well, you do. Who were ya lookin’ at?”
“I wasn’t looking at anyone,” he hissed, hoping she wouldn’t notice the blush on his cheeks deepen. From the looks of it she had because her smile widened.
“Oh, come off it. Just tell me! It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re encroaching on dangerous territory, Pans,” he whispered without looking at her. They entered the Ancient Runes classroom together and took their usual seats in the middle. “Drop it,” he added once they’d settled in.
“Only if you promise to tell me later.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he hissed. “But shut your gab for now.” He saw her smirk but she remained silent for the rest of the class period, only shooting him subtle glances once in a while, presumably to check if he was ogling anyone again.
When lunch rolled around, Draco felt his stomach tighten, as it always did when the prospect of food or meals came up.
“I have . . . a paper to finish,” he said lamely, ignoring the brief feel of Blaise’s eyes on his back as the boy passed him and Pansy outside the Defense classroom. He knew Pansy didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to tell her the truth, regardless of whether or not she knew it anyway. The sad look she gave him made his stomach clench. She nodded.
“Right. I’ll-er-see you in Charms, then?”
“Yeah. See you.”
Draco watched her go with the feeling that a hand had wrapped around his heart and was squeezing it tightly. Nevertheless he made his slow way to the Prefects’ bathroom once she’d left, deciding that he’d spend the period there instead of his dorm. He didn’t feel like being locked away in there. Besides, the loo had grown on him in the past few days.
He stepped inside and found himself smiling involuntarily, picturing Potter - with his gorgeous body and adorable smile - wading around in the tub last night.
Draco was in there for only fifteen minutes when he was interrupted.
The moment he turned and saw Potter walk inside, cheeky grin in place, a realization slammed into him like a Bludger to the head.
He had a massive crush on this boy.
* * *
Potter sat with him in that bathroom for the entire lunch hour. He never brought up what they’d spoken about last night, though; in fact, he’d spent most of the time ranting about how he’d expected to do better in Potions without Snape breathing down his neck, but he was equally as rubbish now as he had been then. Perhaps a bit less angry and nervous all the time, but still. The way he laughed at himself was entirely too charming.
“And I don’t understand the first thing about this Mandrake stuff,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands out behind him. Draco sat on the marble bench, his legs crossed as well, smirking down at Potter as he spoke. “I mean, hey, it’s not like we need the stuff, right? I got rid of the Basilisk that was doing the petrifying anyway.” He winked at Draco and Draco just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by Potter’s arrogance. Mostly because it was clearly not real. But also because it happened to be kind of cute.
“Your modesty is inspiring,” Draco drawled. Potter gave him a half-smile that sent butterflies whirring around in his stomach.
“Merlin, I have Herbology next,” Potter said with a sigh, lowering himself the rest of the way to the ground so he was on his back with his legs still crossed.
“Yes, well I have Arithmancy, so try not to feel too bad for yourself.”
Potter laughed. “Hermione takes that. She loves it.”
“What class doesn’t she love?”
Potter sat up again on his hands and smirked. “She hated Divination.”
Draco scoffed. “Well that’s a stupid class. I don’t blame her. Do you still take it?”
“No,” he chuckled. “Ron and I dropped it for this year. I took up Muggle Studies instead. It’s required now to be an Auror.”
“You want to be an Auror?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Still?”
“Well, yeah. I always have.” Potter looked confused at this question and Draco was doubly surprised. He’d figured that after the war Potter would have had his fill of that kind of thing. Apparently not.
“Even after the war? That’s still what you wanna do?”
Draco was taken by surprise when Harry smiled. “Just because I’ve had my fill of running around destroying pieces of an evil Dark lord’s soul doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy helping people and putting criminals in their place.” He grinned and Draco blushed and looked down.
“Looking forward to capturing leftover Death Eaters?” Draco mumbled. He heard Potter stand up and come to sit down next to him on the bench, but he didn’t look up.
“Not really. I was kind of hoping anyone left would be over that by now and willing to change.”
That had “subtext” written all over it and Draco felt himself flushing. He chanced a look up at Potter only to find that there were two bright green eyes surveying him.
“Dark Marks don’t go away,” he said, forcing himself to stare back. Potter lifted his fringe to expose the scar on his forehead and Draco allowed his eyes to wander over it greedily because, really, he never had before. He’d been too busy pretending like he didn’t care.
“Neither do scars. Doesn’t mean I have to continue leading a huge revolt against evil.”
Draco gave him a look as if to say, “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” And then he looked looked away.
He was entirely unprepared to feel Potter’s hand under his chin, turning his face so that he was once again faced with those green eyes.
"I don't hold it against you," Harry said softly. Draco eyed him for a moment before looking away and heaving another sigh.
"That's 'cause you're a Gryffindor."
Potter laughed. It was a soft, sweet laugh that made Draco smile without thinking about it.
"Maybe," he said. "But I don't see you complaining."
How was it that Potter had become so incredibly charming? Or had he always been? Draco doubted it, but he didn't dismiss the possibility that he could be wrong. After all, he had spent the past seven years only looking for things about Potter to hate.
And why oh why was it starting to feel so lousy calling him ‘Potter’?
"Trust me," he said sourly, hoping Potter hadn't seen any emotions flitting across his face during that moment of pause, "there's plenty of complaining going on inside my head."
Potter laughed again, this time louder, and he shook his head as he stood up. He looked down at Draco and held both hands out. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Can I help you up?"
No, Potter had definitely never been this charming.
Draco took both hands and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He'd expected Potter to move backwards and make more room, because he was standing fairly close in order to have grabbed Draco's hands, but he didn't; he stayed rooted to the spot, and as a result when Draco stood up his chest came within centimeters of Potter's . . . as did their faces. Draco's eyes were wide and entirely exposed as Potter stared into them, his hands still grasping Draco's loosely.
"You know, when you're not being a prick it's easier to see what those other guys did," Potter whispered. Draco felt his breath hitch.
It was just a quick flick of his eyes, but Draco saw it. Potter looked down at his lips and it left Draco flushed and hard and unmoving when Potter finally slipped away and out the door of the bathroom.
* * *
Okay, so he'd essentially told Malfoy he found him attractive. So what? Malfoy was smart. He wouldn't read too far into it. Right? And Harry still wasn't entirely sure Malfoy had a crush on him.
Yeah right, a voice inside his head said sarcastically. He frowned. Malfoy's got a thing for you and you know it.
Harry had seen the way Malfoy was looking at him. He'd noticed the way he flushed whenever Harry would smile and he heard his breathing become slightly erratic when he'd pulled Malfoy so close to him.
And, truth be told, that was why he'd done it. Because he'd wanted to see what would happen. Because a sick part of him was incredibly turned on by Malfoy and the thought that maybe Malfoy was turned on by him too.
He also knew, though, that he couldn't keep doing that. Not only was he with Anthony, but he was supposed to be helping Malfoy. Not teasing him and deriving his own pleasure out of the times they were together. Although just looking at Malfoy recently - what with the way he'd been looking so open and vulnerable-felt indecent. Harry simply couldn't help wondering what all that pale skin would taste like.
"Harry!"
Harry whipped his head around so fast that he heard his neck crack. He hissed and rubbed at it carefully.
"Yeah?" he croaked, making sure to turn his head slowly this time. Ron had an eyebrow raised and Hermione was stifling a laugh.
"Good daydream?"
"What, Ron?" Harry said curtly.
"Nothing. I was just trying to snap you out of it."
Harry rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair. He felt Hermione eyeing him, though Ron had gone back to his homework. They'd been working in the common room for about two hours now, and Harry guessed he must have drifted off a good ten minutes ago, given how funny Ron and Hermione seemed to find it.
"So," Hermione said lightly, but Harry heard an undertone of deep curiosity mixed into that one word. His eyebrows dipped. "Where'd you disappear to during lunch?"
"What?"
"You weren't at lunch."
"I told you: I wasn't hungry so I went to the library to fix up the essay for History of Magic."
"Anthony said you'd finished it."
"Right. Which is why I was fixing it up." Harry knew his guarded tone would give him away but he couldn't help it! Nor could he help the blush that was spreading like wildfire across his face.
Fuck.
"Since when do you fix up essays?" Ron asked, and to Harry's surprise he looked just as strangely curious as Hermione.
"Since this afternoon."
Hermione and Ron looked at each other and Harry's fists balled up. What were they getting at?
"Harry," Hermione said slowly, cautiously, and it reminded him of fifth year when they'd been tiptoeing around him. He suddenly felt a flash of anger and held back from screaming by some incredible burst of willpower. "Please just tell us where you went. Where you've been going."
"Going?" he said sharply. It had slipped out. They couldn't possibly know about . . . ?
"At night," Ron clarified, though he wasn't meeting Harry's eyes. And he was bright red. "I heard you the other night. And Seamus and Dean said they've heard you lately. And then lunch today-"
"Why didn't you come to me before consulting Hermione?" Harry was getting very angry indeed and he knew it. He could feel it. And he was only holding onto it by the skin of his teeth.
"I wanted to make sure I wasn't looking too much into it." Ron and Hermione shared another glance and Harry seethed. "But then you left for lunch today-"
"We're not angry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "But we would like to know if you're . . ." She stopped and bit her lip. Harry wasn't quite sure if he was ready to hear whatever ridiculous accusation they'd come up with.
But what if they knew about Malfoy? His heart began to race.
"Are you cheating on Anthony?"
Harry's stomach both clenched further and unclenched at the same time, if that was possible. They were wrong, after all. But a part of him, that part that was beginning to wonder what Malfoy might look like naked on Harry's bed, thought differently.
"No," he said, trying to sound offended at the very thought. He knew he'd failed. Hermione didn't look convinced. Neither did Ron. "I'm not! I'm . . ."
"You're what?" Hermione asked sadly, almost as though Harry were about to spew out some horrible excuse and she was disappointed.
He sighed. He'd have to tell them. It was better than them thinking he was cheating on Anthony and then telling him. Besides, how bad could this turn out? It wasn't a crime to help someone who needed help.
He took a deep breath.
"I'm helping Malfoy." Ron and Hermione stared at him. "I was in the Owlery the other night and I saw him and . . . and he agreed to let me help him. With his eating thing, that is."
"His . . . eating thing?" Hermione said slowly, looking both disgusted at Harry for his crude wording and very disturbed by the implications of the crude statement itself.
"Helping him?" said Ron. "What?"
"It's a not a big deal," Harry heard himself saying. It sounded weak even to his own ears. "He thinks he's fat, you guys. It's actually a lot worse than I thought when we heard Zabini say that stuff to him. He needs help."
"I don't think you're the one to give it to him, Harry," said Hermione. She sounded a bit out of breath.
"Wait." Ron held up a hand. "Why would you want to in the first place? I don't understand. Am I missing something?"
"No, I just . . . it felt like the right thing to do."
"The right thing to do?" Ron looked offended. "Harry, do you even realize who you're talking about? Malfoy's a slimy traitor! If he's miserable he deserves it!"
"Now, Ron," Hermione started, but Harry cut her off.
"That's really good of you," he spat. "Aren't we all supposed to be working toward getting along? Shouldn't it be, I don't know . . . an example, or something? Me working to help Malfoy?"
"It's wonderful, Harry, I think what Ron is trying to say is just . . . Well, it seems so unlikely that you could have gotten over that enmity so quickly. Especially enough to be able to help him-"
"So you don't think I'm capable of that, is what you're saying."
Hermione stopped looking worried and became cross.
"That's not what we're saying at all," she said stiffly. "We're just wondering what . . . other motivations you might have since doing it just for Malfoy's benefit seems extremely unlikely. It's not just you, Harry. If anyone in this room suddenly decided to do it we'd be suspicious. You just happen to have an even more unpleasant background than most with Malfoy so it's even harder to believe."
"Well, it's true, so I suggest you two get over it."
Harry folded his arms and looked away, but he could still see Ron and Hermione share yet another glance.
"Does Anthony know?"
"Why does it matter?" he said sharply. And he knew it was because he was already feeling guilty, but he couldn’t help it. He still felt betrayed. Ron and Hermione should have just stayed out of it.
"It just seems like something your boyfriend should know," said Hermione. "Besides, he's been worried lately, too. Especially after today. He suspects you're seeing someone, as well."
"What?" Harry's arms dropped and he frowned at his friends. "He thinks I'm cheating on him?"
"I'm not sure he thinks you're cheating on him . . ."
"I think he's just worried," said Ron. "You should tell him what's really up." He looked back down at his essay and added under his breath, "Not that it's much better . . ."
"You know, I would have thought you two would be happy I'm doing this, and at least give me your support even if you don't." Harry stood up and headed toward the portrait hole. When he got there he looked back and added, "You can tell Anthony he doesn't have to worry anymore."
It was only eleven and Malfoy wouldn't show up in the bathroom for several hours, if he did at all. Harry still wasn't one hundred per cent positive Malfoy was serious about this. He kept expecting him to back out.
Away from the actual scene of the conflict, Harry felt less mad at Ron and Hermione. He knew they were only confused and worried. Still, though. It was irritating that they couldn't just . . . be happy or something.
He was happy.
And as he entered the Prefects' bathroom, ready to wait several hours before Malfoy would show up, he realized just how happy he was about this.
Chapter Eight | Page of Contents | Chapter Ten
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,220
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: I am a horrible person who did not respond to ONE comment on the last chapter! I've been uber busy and crazy. I'm sorry! I read and adored each and every single one. I'm so, so happy everyone is still enjoying it. You're all amazing. <3
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Nine
Draco sat in Potions with his back rigid, trying and failing to listen to the professor’s lecture on Mandrake Draught, the potion Madam Pomfrey had used in their second year to revive the petrified students. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have found this very interesting, not only because he liked Potions, but because the theory itself was interesting.
These weren’t normal circumstances, though. Because Draco could feel Potter’s eyes on him. He could physically feel it, as though it wasn’t Potter’s eyes raking over his skin but the boy’s hands. He thought that if it were possible to burst into flames, he would have.
He couldn’t decide if Anthony Goldstein being in the class made it better or worse. Worse because he sat directly next to Potter and that caused a horrible jealous feeling to boil in the pit of Draco’s stomach; better because Potter was actually ignoring his boyfriend in favor of staring at Draco.
He remembered the wet hug from last night and the cheeky grin Potter had worn and decided that it was definitely better.
This conclusion was made all the more resolute when, just before Potter stood up at the end of class and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, he stole a glance at Draco and smirked as he turned away. A flush spread across Draco’s cheeks and seemed to sink into his very skin, making his stomach coil, and reached all the way down to his groin. Draco was fairly certain he’d never been so turned on by a mere look before.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered?”
Draco whipped around to find Pansy staring at him with an eyebrow raised. He flushed, if possible, harder than before and swiftly grabbed his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. She followed him from the room, the expression on her face indicating she’d just realized she’d stumbled onto a puzzle. Perhaps a more astute friend might have realized there was a puzzle a long time ago, but Pansy never had been particularly bright. He only hoped her lack of intelligence kept her from putting the pieces of this puzzle together now that she’d finally recognized it.
“What are you on about?” he drawled.
“You look like you’ve just got done wanking.” She laughed when he shot her an incredulous look. “Well, you do. Who were ya lookin’ at?”
“I wasn’t looking at anyone,” he hissed, hoping she wouldn’t notice the blush on his cheeks deepen. From the looks of it she had because her smile widened.
“Oh, come off it. Just tell me! It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re encroaching on dangerous territory, Pans,” he whispered without looking at her. They entered the Ancient Runes classroom together and took their usual seats in the middle. “Drop it,” he added once they’d settled in.
“Only if you promise to tell me later.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he hissed. “But shut your gab for now.” He saw her smirk but she remained silent for the rest of the class period, only shooting him subtle glances once in a while, presumably to check if he was ogling anyone again.
When lunch rolled around, Draco felt his stomach tighten, as it always did when the prospect of food or meals came up.
“I have . . . a paper to finish,” he said lamely, ignoring the brief feel of Blaise’s eyes on his back as the boy passed him and Pansy outside the Defense classroom. He knew Pansy didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to tell her the truth, regardless of whether or not she knew it anyway. The sad look she gave him made his stomach clench. She nodded.
“Right. I’ll-er-see you in Charms, then?”
“Yeah. See you.”
Draco watched her go with the feeling that a hand had wrapped around his heart and was squeezing it tightly. Nevertheless he made his slow way to the Prefects’ bathroom once she’d left, deciding that he’d spend the period there instead of his dorm. He didn’t feel like being locked away in there. Besides, the loo had grown on him in the past few days.
He stepped inside and found himself smiling involuntarily, picturing Potter - with his gorgeous body and adorable smile - wading around in the tub last night.
Draco was in there for only fifteen minutes when he was interrupted.
The moment he turned and saw Potter walk inside, cheeky grin in place, a realization slammed into him like a Bludger to the head.
He had a massive crush on this boy.
* * *
Potter sat with him in that bathroom for the entire lunch hour. He never brought up what they’d spoken about last night, though; in fact, he’d spent most of the time ranting about how he’d expected to do better in Potions without Snape breathing down his neck, but he was equally as rubbish now as he had been then. Perhaps a bit less angry and nervous all the time, but still. The way he laughed at himself was entirely too charming.
“And I don’t understand the first thing about this Mandrake stuff,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands out behind him. Draco sat on the marble bench, his legs crossed as well, smirking down at Potter as he spoke. “I mean, hey, it’s not like we need the stuff, right? I got rid of the Basilisk that was doing the petrifying anyway.” He winked at Draco and Draco just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by Potter’s arrogance. Mostly because it was clearly not real. But also because it happened to be kind of cute.
“Your modesty is inspiring,” Draco drawled. Potter gave him a half-smile that sent butterflies whirring around in his stomach.
“Merlin, I have Herbology next,” Potter said with a sigh, lowering himself the rest of the way to the ground so he was on his back with his legs still crossed.
“Yes, well I have Arithmancy, so try not to feel too bad for yourself.”
Potter laughed. “Hermione takes that. She loves it.”
“What class doesn’t she love?”
Potter sat up again on his hands and smirked. “She hated Divination.”
Draco scoffed. “Well that’s a stupid class. I don’t blame her. Do you still take it?”
“No,” he chuckled. “Ron and I dropped it for this year. I took up Muggle Studies instead. It’s required now to be an Auror.”
“You want to be an Auror?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Still?”
“Well, yeah. I always have.” Potter looked confused at this question and Draco was doubly surprised. He’d figured that after the war Potter would have had his fill of that kind of thing. Apparently not.
“Even after the war? That’s still what you wanna do?”
Draco was taken by surprise when Harry smiled. “Just because I’ve had my fill of running around destroying pieces of an evil Dark lord’s soul doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy helping people and putting criminals in their place.” He grinned and Draco blushed and looked down.
“Looking forward to capturing leftover Death Eaters?” Draco mumbled. He heard Potter stand up and come to sit down next to him on the bench, but he didn’t look up.
“Not really. I was kind of hoping anyone left would be over that by now and willing to change.”
That had “subtext” written all over it and Draco felt himself flushing. He chanced a look up at Potter only to find that there were two bright green eyes surveying him.
“Dark Marks don’t go away,” he said, forcing himself to stare back. Potter lifted his fringe to expose the scar on his forehead and Draco allowed his eyes to wander over it greedily because, really, he never had before. He’d been too busy pretending like he didn’t care.
“Neither do scars. Doesn’t mean I have to continue leading a huge revolt against evil.”
Draco gave him a look as if to say, “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” And then he looked looked away.
He was entirely unprepared to feel Potter’s hand under his chin, turning his face so that he was once again faced with those green eyes.
"I don't hold it against you," Harry said softly. Draco eyed him for a moment before looking away and heaving another sigh.
"That's 'cause you're a Gryffindor."
Potter laughed. It was a soft, sweet laugh that made Draco smile without thinking about it.
"Maybe," he said. "But I don't see you complaining."
How was it that Potter had become so incredibly charming? Or had he always been? Draco doubted it, but he didn't dismiss the possibility that he could be wrong. After all, he had spent the past seven years only looking for things about Potter to hate.
And why oh why was it starting to feel so lousy calling him ‘Potter’?
"Trust me," he said sourly, hoping Potter hadn't seen any emotions flitting across his face during that moment of pause, "there's plenty of complaining going on inside my head."
Potter laughed again, this time louder, and he shook his head as he stood up. He looked down at Draco and held both hands out. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Can I help you up?"
No, Potter had definitely never been this charming.
Draco took both hands and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He'd expected Potter to move backwards and make more room, because he was standing fairly close in order to have grabbed Draco's hands, but he didn't; he stayed rooted to the spot, and as a result when Draco stood up his chest came within centimeters of Potter's . . . as did their faces. Draco's eyes were wide and entirely exposed as Potter stared into them, his hands still grasping Draco's loosely.
"You know, when you're not being a prick it's easier to see what those other guys did," Potter whispered. Draco felt his breath hitch.
It was just a quick flick of his eyes, but Draco saw it. Potter looked down at his lips and it left Draco flushed and hard and unmoving when Potter finally slipped away and out the door of the bathroom.
* * *
Okay, so he'd essentially told Malfoy he found him attractive. So what? Malfoy was smart. He wouldn't read too far into it. Right? And Harry still wasn't entirely sure Malfoy had a crush on him.
Yeah right, a voice inside his head said sarcastically. He frowned. Malfoy's got a thing for you and you know it.
Harry had seen the way Malfoy was looking at him. He'd noticed the way he flushed whenever Harry would smile and he heard his breathing become slightly erratic when he'd pulled Malfoy so close to him.
And, truth be told, that was why he'd done it. Because he'd wanted to see what would happen. Because a sick part of him was incredibly turned on by Malfoy and the thought that maybe Malfoy was turned on by him too.
He also knew, though, that he couldn't keep doing that. Not only was he with Anthony, but he was supposed to be helping Malfoy. Not teasing him and deriving his own pleasure out of the times they were together. Although just looking at Malfoy recently - what with the way he'd been looking so open and vulnerable-felt indecent. Harry simply couldn't help wondering what all that pale skin would taste like.
"Harry!"
Harry whipped his head around so fast that he heard his neck crack. He hissed and rubbed at it carefully.
"Yeah?" he croaked, making sure to turn his head slowly this time. Ron had an eyebrow raised and Hermione was stifling a laugh.
"Good daydream?"
"What, Ron?" Harry said curtly.
"Nothing. I was just trying to snap you out of it."
Harry rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair. He felt Hermione eyeing him, though Ron had gone back to his homework. They'd been working in the common room for about two hours now, and Harry guessed he must have drifted off a good ten minutes ago, given how funny Ron and Hermione seemed to find it.
"So," Hermione said lightly, but Harry heard an undertone of deep curiosity mixed into that one word. His eyebrows dipped. "Where'd you disappear to during lunch?"
"What?"
"You weren't at lunch."
"I told you: I wasn't hungry so I went to the library to fix up the essay for History of Magic."
"Anthony said you'd finished it."
"Right. Which is why I was fixing it up." Harry knew his guarded tone would give him away but he couldn't help it! Nor could he help the blush that was spreading like wildfire across his face.
Fuck.
"Since when do you fix up essays?" Ron asked, and to Harry's surprise he looked just as strangely curious as Hermione.
"Since this afternoon."
Hermione and Ron looked at each other and Harry's fists balled up. What were they getting at?
"Harry," Hermione said slowly, cautiously, and it reminded him of fifth year when they'd been tiptoeing around him. He suddenly felt a flash of anger and held back from screaming by some incredible burst of willpower. "Please just tell us where you went. Where you've been going."
"Going?" he said sharply. It had slipped out. They couldn't possibly know about . . . ?
"At night," Ron clarified, though he wasn't meeting Harry's eyes. And he was bright red. "I heard you the other night. And Seamus and Dean said they've heard you lately. And then lunch today-"
"Why didn't you come to me before consulting Hermione?" Harry was getting very angry indeed and he knew it. He could feel it. And he was only holding onto it by the skin of his teeth.
"I wanted to make sure I wasn't looking too much into it." Ron and Hermione shared another glance and Harry seethed. "But then you left for lunch today-"
"We're not angry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "But we would like to know if you're . . ." She stopped and bit her lip. Harry wasn't quite sure if he was ready to hear whatever ridiculous accusation they'd come up with.
But what if they knew about Malfoy? His heart began to race.
"Are you cheating on Anthony?"
Harry's stomach both clenched further and unclenched at the same time, if that was possible. They were wrong, after all. But a part of him, that part that was beginning to wonder what Malfoy might look like naked on Harry's bed, thought differently.
"No," he said, trying to sound offended at the very thought. He knew he'd failed. Hermione didn't look convinced. Neither did Ron. "I'm not! I'm . . ."
"You're what?" Hermione asked sadly, almost as though Harry were about to spew out some horrible excuse and she was disappointed.
He sighed. He'd have to tell them. It was better than them thinking he was cheating on Anthony and then telling him. Besides, how bad could this turn out? It wasn't a crime to help someone who needed help.
He took a deep breath.
"I'm helping Malfoy." Ron and Hermione stared at him. "I was in the Owlery the other night and I saw him and . . . and he agreed to let me help him. With his eating thing, that is."
"His . . . eating thing?" Hermione said slowly, looking both disgusted at Harry for his crude wording and very disturbed by the implications of the crude statement itself.
"Helping him?" said Ron. "What?"
"It's a not a big deal," Harry heard himself saying. It sounded weak even to his own ears. "He thinks he's fat, you guys. It's actually a lot worse than I thought when we heard Zabini say that stuff to him. He needs help."
"I don't think you're the one to give it to him, Harry," said Hermione. She sounded a bit out of breath.
"Wait." Ron held up a hand. "Why would you want to in the first place? I don't understand. Am I missing something?"
"No, I just . . . it felt like the right thing to do."
"The right thing to do?" Ron looked offended. "Harry, do you even realize who you're talking about? Malfoy's a slimy traitor! If he's miserable he deserves it!"
"Now, Ron," Hermione started, but Harry cut her off.
"That's really good of you," he spat. "Aren't we all supposed to be working toward getting along? Shouldn't it be, I don't know . . . an example, or something? Me working to help Malfoy?"
"It's wonderful, Harry, I think what Ron is trying to say is just . . . Well, it seems so unlikely that you could have gotten over that enmity so quickly. Especially enough to be able to help him-"
"So you don't think I'm capable of that, is what you're saying."
Hermione stopped looking worried and became cross.
"That's not what we're saying at all," she said stiffly. "We're just wondering what . . . other motivations you might have since doing it just for Malfoy's benefit seems extremely unlikely. It's not just you, Harry. If anyone in this room suddenly decided to do it we'd be suspicious. You just happen to have an even more unpleasant background than most with Malfoy so it's even harder to believe."
"Well, it's true, so I suggest you two get over it."
Harry folded his arms and looked away, but he could still see Ron and Hermione share yet another glance.
"Does Anthony know?"
"Why does it matter?" he said sharply. And he knew it was because he was already feeling guilty, but he couldn’t help it. He still felt betrayed. Ron and Hermione should have just stayed out of it.
"It just seems like something your boyfriend should know," said Hermione. "Besides, he's been worried lately, too. Especially after today. He suspects you're seeing someone, as well."
"What?" Harry's arms dropped and he frowned at his friends. "He thinks I'm cheating on him?"
"I'm not sure he thinks you're cheating on him . . ."
"I think he's just worried," said Ron. "You should tell him what's really up." He looked back down at his essay and added under his breath, "Not that it's much better . . ."
"You know, I would have thought you two would be happy I'm doing this, and at least give me your support even if you don't." Harry stood up and headed toward the portrait hole. When he got there he looked back and added, "You can tell Anthony he doesn't have to worry anymore."
It was only eleven and Malfoy wouldn't show up in the bathroom for several hours, if he did at all. Harry still wasn't one hundred per cent positive Malfoy was serious about this. He kept expecting him to back out.
Away from the actual scene of the conflict, Harry felt less mad at Ron and Hermione. He knew they were only confused and worried. Still, though. It was irritating that they couldn't just . . . be happy or something.
He was happy.
And as he entered the Prefects' bathroom, ready to wait several hours before Malfoy would show up, he realized just how happy he was about this.
Chapter Eight | Page of Contents | Chapter Ten