Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,186
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
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour and katelinmr 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 Fifteen
It was with great effort that Harry dragged himself to Potions on Wednesday morning. He felt minimally better when he saw Malfoy sitting in his usual seat, but it did nothing to dispel his exhaustion. He’d hardly slept last night. Quidditch practice had been brutal, as Ron was refusing to speak to him; Ginny had been off because she was constantly casting suspicious glances at both of them; and the rest of the team seemed to be affected by their captain’s negative spirit.
In any case, he was not happy to be sitting in class, and he didn’t think it would get much better throughout the day, even in the classes he enjoyed.
Professor Hawthorne tapped the board smartly with his wand as soon as he entered the room and the students became silent. Harry found that this likeness to Snape made him feel even worse. The changes brought about by the war felt like they were pressing down on his shoulders and making his neck ache. Ron still wouldn’t look at him and Hermione appeared to be conflicted, though it looked like she was taking Ron’s side as she hadn’t glanced at him, either. Anthony had tried to catch his eye before the professor walked in, but Harry had pretended not to notice.
And then there was Malfoy, in whom Harry found the most comfort out of all these people. It was like the world had turned itself upside down. He thought he wouldn’t be surprised if the Dursleys walked into the room and declared their interest in learning magic.
“Laevus Levus,” Professor Hawthorne said, looking around at his class. A torch on the wall reflected briefly off his extraordinarily bald head and Harry glanced at it. “Can anyone tell me what it is?”
Predictably, Hermione’s hand shot into the air, though several others did as well. Harry saw Malfoy color and look down at his desk.
“Miss Granger?”
Unlike Snape, Professor Hawthorne favored Hermione. He was a fairly average-sized, middle-age man and dressed professionally, but it contrasted awkwardly with his shiny bald head and the thick facial hair that circled his mouth. Harry had the feeling he considered himself brilliant indeed.
“Laevus Levus is, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of Felix Felicis. It’s an unlucky potion, used to bring misfortune upon your enemies.”
“Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor.” Professor Hawthorne’s gaze skated over the classroom once again. “The use of Laevus Levus on another person was outlawed in 1756. Brewing the potion was never made illegal, though many Ministry officials have attempted to make it so, particularly after the fall of Gellert Grindelwald, during whose reign of terror in Germany this potion became popular.
“Today - and for the next week - this is what we will be working on in class. Ingredients and directions are found on page 394 of your textbook.” The scraping of chairs began but was immediately silenced when Professor Hawthorne fired a spell into the air. “Anyone found smuggling even a drop of this potion out of the classroom - Merlin forbid using it - will receive detention for three solid months. Is that understood?” The classroom nodded as one and resumed action.
Harry looked over to Ron only half-heartedly to find that he was already walking to a station with Hermione. The latter looked away quickly when she saw him staring. Harry sighed and went over to Neville, who accepted his partnership happily, despite, Harry knew, having been privy to countless rumors, not to mention from Ron himself.
“Doesn’t sound like a very pleasant brew, does it?” Neville said as Harry set up the cauldron.
“I didn’t know Felix Felicis had a counterpart,” he said. “Must be awful. No wonder it was outlawed.”
“Yeah. . . . Oi, it looks difficult, too. Only takes a week, but you’ve got to keep an eye on it. It uses a lot of ingredients. I guess we’ll have to come down here and tend to it outside of class time.”
“Wonderful,” Harry bit out, and then sent an apologetic glance at Neville when he realized how it had sounded. “What’ll we need right now? I’ll go get the stuff.”
“Er - let’s see. . . . Better get boomslang skin, a few leeches - get five, in case we screw up cutting them - and a mango.”
“A mango?” Harry asked, bemused. Neville shrugged.
“’S what it says.”
He mirrored Neville’s shrug and set off toward the cupboard containing the ingredients.
“Oh, my apologies,” Professor Hawthorne said loudly. Harry saw Hermione walking away from his desk. “The mangoes are to be found in several boxes at the back of the cupboard with Cooling Charms placed on them.”
Harry smirked at the confused expression that twisted the faces of most of his classmates. He only had trouble finding the boomslang skin, which had been stored behind a few other ingredients. When he walked back out he saw that Malfoy was already cutting his own mango carefully, Parkinson beside him slicing a leech.
Just as he set the ingredients down on his station he heard the characteristic chuckle of Zacharias Smith. He rolled his eyes.
“Might wanna have your partner do that, eh, Malfoy? Just in case you accidentally eat some.”
Harry immediately saw red. “Shut the fuck up, Smith!” he shouted. It hadn’t occurred to him before that other students at Hogwarts speculated about Malfoy’s eating disorder. Of course, all the Gryffindors and Slytherins had heard what Zabini had said in the Charms corridor, but Harry hadn’t put it together in his mind that others wouldn’t have forgotten, just like him. And besides that, not everyone was as clueless as him and Ron. Some people may have already been wondering before Zabini fairly confirmed their suspicions.
It took a moment for him to realize everyone in the room was staring at him. The only pair of eyes he felt, however, were Malfoy’s, and the boy looked frightened.
“Mr. Potter!” Professor Hawthorne said sharply.
Harry looked to Malfoy - for what, he didn’t know- and was shocked when a scowl took the place of the anxiety.
“Keep your large head out of it, Potter,” he spat, and it sounded so like his old self that Harry was rendered speechless. Ron and Hermione were looking at him strangely, as though they didn’t know what to believe. Anthony too, though he seemed to suspect something.
“I’m sorry, professor, I -”
“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Potter. Detention tonight directly following dinner. Twenty points from Gryffindor for foul language.” He pierced the class with another stare. “Continue.”
Harry stood in complete silence for another moment before looking over to Malfoy and Parkinson, who seemed to be making it a point not to look anywhere but at their station. Finally, he looked around to Neville.
“What was that?”
Harry shook his head and let out a breath. He began chopping a leech angrily.
“I don’t like Smith.”
“More than you don’t like Malfoy?”
Harry looked up at Neville, who wasn’t very good at hiding his curiosity. He sighed again and continued to chop.
“Sure.”
* * *
Detention was tedious. Hawthorne had him scrub tables and cauldrons, and Harry made a point of checking on his and Neville’s potion before he left. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about it tomorrow since they didn’t have the class.
It was nearing ten o’clock when he left the dungeon classroom and he pulled the Map out to find that Malfoy was in his dorm. His heart sank. He’d been hoping Malfoy would be in the loo.
On another section of the Map he found Anthony sitting in the library. He pursed his lips in thought. It would be a good idea to talk to him. He hadn’t since before Ron’s party, and he certainly didn’t intend to lose Anthony as a boyfriend. Unless he hated Harry, too, which seemed perfectly likely.
With what felt like a lot of effort, Harry went up to the library and found Anthony immediately. He was one of the only five people in there: all seventh or eighth years, due to curfew.
He wandered over and sat down in a chair on the other side of the table. Anthony looked up at him and smiled.
“Hi,” he said brightly, relief almost tangible. Harry fought the urge to bite his lip nervously.
“What are you studying?”
“Hm? Oh . . .” He looked down at his textbook and frowned. “Potions. I’m trying to make up a schedule for me and Terry. When to check on our potion outside of class and all that. You can use it too, if you’d like, with Neville.”
“Thanks.” Harry reached out and placed his hand over Anthony’s. “Sorry I haven’t really talked to you since Monday. I’ve been a little -”
“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s all right.” He turned his hand over to lace their fingers and Harry swallowed silently. “I hope you don’t think I’m mad at you.” Harry carefully schooled his expression into one that said “Of course I know, silly,” but he wasn’t sure how well it worked. Anthony continued, “I think it’s pretty shite what you did to Ron - mean, even, but, well, like I said before, I’m dating you, not him. I still love you; I just think you need to sort out what you’re doing.”
Harry slowly slid his hand back and leaned on it, watching as Anthony went back to writing. “I didn’t mean to stab him in the back like that,” he said. Anthony looked up.
“Were you really with Malfoy?”
“Yeah.”
“Just out of curiosity . . . why did you skive off your best mate’s party for him? I mean, were you angry at Ron, or -”
“No, of course not!” Harry said loudly, and Madam Pince shushed him. “I just . . . I was already tipsy, and . . . He was having a hard time. Malfoy, that is.” He didn’t think he should give Anthony the details. That was private.
“So you just stayed with him all night? Did it help him?”
Harry blushed fiercely. He’d done more than help, that was certain. He hoped Anthony would attribute the blush to his embarrassment at having stayed with Malfoy all night.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just talked to him. Kept him talking, you know, so he wouldn’t think about it.”
Anthony nodded, looking mildly impressed. Harry felt awful.
“Regardless of the situation, I do think what you’re doing is very kind, Harry,” Anthony said with a smile, and leaned across the table to kiss him. Harry was horrified to find that his mind went directly to Malfoy and his lips, and his body, and his pale, smooth skin, and suddenly he could hear Malfoy’s ragged breath inside his head and Harry gasped out loud. Anthony pulled away and chuckled. He had an eyebrow raised.
“I’d be all down for that, Harry, if it wasn’t already late on a Wednesday night. Maybe this weekend.”
Harry laughed a little too erratically and Anthony gave him another look.
“Right. Well, er, I’m gonna head off to bed, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“’Night,” Anthony laughed. He leaned over to kiss him again.
* * *
Harry didn’t get to see Malfoy again until Friday night, and it wasn’t even going to be for very long because he’d promised Anthony he would meet up with him. This wasn’t horribly depressing, as he knew he’d be having sex tonight, but he hadn’t spent time with Malfoy since the night of Ron’s party and he really, really wanted to.
And, he thought, a little angrily as he walked into the loo and saw Malfoy sitting with his legs in the tub, I want an explanation for that mouthing off in Potions.
“Hey,” he said, hearing the anger in his own voice. He’d been very upset at first, and then he’d cooled down, but now it was coming back to him at the sight of Malfoy.
Malfoy looked around and smiled a bit when he saw Harry. Harry fought to keep his face neutral.
“I hope my large head isn’t taking up too much space?”
Malfoy looked utterly confused. He got up and his rolled-up trouser legs sagged as he walked over to Harry, stopping a few feet away.
“What are you talking about?”
“You were a right prick in Potions when I stood up for you,” Harry snapped. Malfoy’s eyes widened and he blushed.
“Potter . . . you can’t do that in public,” he said quietly. “Do you want the whole school to know?”
This statement hit Harry with the force of a bludger. Suddenly he wasn’t angry anymore at all; just ashamed of himself for not having thought about that. And for having immediately assumed Malfoy had gone back to being a little bitch.
Although, he supposed he had good reason to assume. After all, up until only a few weeks ago, Malfoy had been a prat for seven years.
“I didn’t think about that,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate Smith, and I . . .” He felt himself blushing. “It just pissed me off when he said that.”
Malfoy smiled shyly - brilliantly - and closed the space between them so he could kiss Harry. He pulled away just as Harry got his hands on Malfoy’s hips.
“You’ll have to keep the hero business to a minimum, I’m afraid,” he said with a smirk, and Harry bent down to kiss him once more. When Malfoy spoke again he sounded out of breath.
“Concerning me, at least.”
“What about when we’re alone?” he whispered against Malfoy’s ear, and the boy shivered. Harry laughed and bit at his lobe.
“Are you sure you’re Harry Potter?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Because I don’t remember him being this suave.”
Harry laughed loudly. “I guess conquering evil has made me a little more charming.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far-” Malfoy started to say, but Harry cut him off with another kiss. He pulled Malfoy against him and bit down on his lower lip, loving the little breathy whimper he earned. Malfoy had begun fisting his hands in Harry’s jumper when Harry had the presence of mind to stop anything before it got out of hand.
“What’s wrong?” Malfoy asked, looking put out. Harry kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I’m supposed to see Anthony in a bit. I don’t wanna get too carried away.”
Malfoy blushed but frowned.
“When do you have to go?” As he said it, his grip on Harry’s jumper tightened. Harry wondered if he'd noticed he’d done it.
“About half an hour. He wants to go outside.” Malfoy made a face and Harry chuckled. “I agree. It’s too cold. But I do like looking at the stars, so I put up with it. And anyway, he really loves being outside.”
Malfoy released Harry’s jumper and took a step back at that. Harry wanted to hug him and tell him he’d rather be here with him all night, but of course he didn’t. And not only because it frightened him that the thought had even crossed his mind.
“I should probably go now, then,” Malfoy mumbled, and after rolling down his trouser legs he made for the door. Harry stopped him, stood behind him, twined both arms around his waist. He nuzzled Malfoy’s neck and closed his eyes, breathing in his scent.
“Don’t go yet,” he whispered. He heard Malfoy swallow. “I haven’t seen you properly since Monday.” Malfoy didn’t say a word, but something that felt like very strong emotion gripped Harry’s stomach and made him feel like he was going to cry. There were no tears in his eyes, but his gut wrenched and he felt suddenly like the boy in his arms was his whole world.
The moment passed as quickly as it had come, making him feel a little dizzy and confused.
He kissed Malfoy’s neck softly and spun him around to do the same to his lips.
“How’s the eating been?”
“All right.” He took Harry’s hands off his waist and dropped them and then smiled a little apologetically. “I’ve eaten a bit at breakfast or lunch this week.”
“Have you . . . thrown up?” He still felt awkward asking, like it wasn’t his business to do so, even though he knew it was okay.
Malfoy shook his head. “No.”
“Good.” When he moved in again for yet another kiss Malfoy backed away. Harry cocked his head.
“I just . . . You’re seeing Goldstein -”
“I told you it doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter Monday.”
Malfoy flushed. “I know, I just feel weird with you going directly to see him after. . . .”
Harry grabbed him by his belt loops and pulled him into a kiss before he could protest. “Since when,” he whispered against Malfoy’s lips, “do you base your actions on someone else’s wellbeing?”
Malfoy didn’t laugh. “It’s not for him.”
“Then who’s it for?”
Malfoy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Never mind.” And he kissed Harry back; kissed him like he had Monday night when Harry had had his hand on his cock. The snogging was beginning to get out of hand again when Malfoy pulled away. He schooled his features and delicately wiped away the saliva on his lips with his ring finger. When he looked at Harry again, one would not have been able to tell he’d just been involved in a fairly passionate, emotional kiss (save for the bruised lips) had they not been there to witness it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Malfoy nodded. And then, after pulling his sleeves down over his hands in a very uncharacteristically nervous gesture, he walked past Harry and out of the loo. Harry sighed when the door closed behind him.
He hadn’t liked the way Malfoy had responded to that conversation about Anthony. He’d known before that Malfoy felt something towards him - that much was obvious. But until tonight he’d been trying to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal. That it wasn’t a crush, or Merlin forbid anything more.
But the way Malfoy’s hands had tightened in his jumper when he’d mentioned Anthony. And the way he’d looked almost hurt when Harry had said he was going outside with Anthony because Anthony enjoyed it.
But he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet. Not until he was sure. And maybe not even then. It wasn’t worth the possible - probable - fight that would ensue. If he was right, Malfoy would either deny it and lash out, or else be completely distraught that Harry knew. And most likely lash out. And if he was wrong, Malfoy would be angry that Harry had assumed that. And then he’d lash out.
Fuck, Malfoy was unstable. But that was what Harry liked about him. It drew him closer and turned him on just a little bit more than it pissed him off, and that was enough.
He prayed to whoever would listen that he wasn’t digging himself into a hole he wouldn’t be able to climb out of.
Chapter Fourteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Sixteen
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,186
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
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour and katelinmr 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 Fifteen
It was with great effort that Harry dragged himself to Potions on Wednesday morning. He felt minimally better when he saw Malfoy sitting in his usual seat, but it did nothing to dispel his exhaustion. He’d hardly slept last night. Quidditch practice had been brutal, as Ron was refusing to speak to him; Ginny had been off because she was constantly casting suspicious glances at both of them; and the rest of the team seemed to be affected by their captain’s negative spirit.
In any case, he was not happy to be sitting in class, and he didn’t think it would get much better throughout the day, even in the classes he enjoyed.
Professor Hawthorne tapped the board smartly with his wand as soon as he entered the room and the students became silent. Harry found that this likeness to Snape made him feel even worse. The changes brought about by the war felt like they were pressing down on his shoulders and making his neck ache. Ron still wouldn’t look at him and Hermione appeared to be conflicted, though it looked like she was taking Ron’s side as she hadn’t glanced at him, either. Anthony had tried to catch his eye before the professor walked in, but Harry had pretended not to notice.
And then there was Malfoy, in whom Harry found the most comfort out of all these people. It was like the world had turned itself upside down. He thought he wouldn’t be surprised if the Dursleys walked into the room and declared their interest in learning magic.
“Laevus Levus,” Professor Hawthorne said, looking around at his class. A torch on the wall reflected briefly off his extraordinarily bald head and Harry glanced at it. “Can anyone tell me what it is?”
Predictably, Hermione’s hand shot into the air, though several others did as well. Harry saw Malfoy color and look down at his desk.
“Miss Granger?”
Unlike Snape, Professor Hawthorne favored Hermione. He was a fairly average-sized, middle-age man and dressed professionally, but it contrasted awkwardly with his shiny bald head and the thick facial hair that circled his mouth. Harry had the feeling he considered himself brilliant indeed.
“Laevus Levus is, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of Felix Felicis. It’s an unlucky potion, used to bring misfortune upon your enemies.”
“Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor.” Professor Hawthorne’s gaze skated over the classroom once again. “The use of Laevus Levus on another person was outlawed in 1756. Brewing the potion was never made illegal, though many Ministry officials have attempted to make it so, particularly after the fall of Gellert Grindelwald, during whose reign of terror in Germany this potion became popular.
“Today - and for the next week - this is what we will be working on in class. Ingredients and directions are found on page 394 of your textbook.” The scraping of chairs began but was immediately silenced when Professor Hawthorne fired a spell into the air. “Anyone found smuggling even a drop of this potion out of the classroom - Merlin forbid using it - will receive detention for three solid months. Is that understood?” The classroom nodded as one and resumed action.
Harry looked over to Ron only half-heartedly to find that he was already walking to a station with Hermione. The latter looked away quickly when she saw him staring. Harry sighed and went over to Neville, who accepted his partnership happily, despite, Harry knew, having been privy to countless rumors, not to mention from Ron himself.
“Doesn’t sound like a very pleasant brew, does it?” Neville said as Harry set up the cauldron.
“I didn’t know Felix Felicis had a counterpart,” he said. “Must be awful. No wonder it was outlawed.”
“Yeah. . . . Oi, it looks difficult, too. Only takes a week, but you’ve got to keep an eye on it. It uses a lot of ingredients. I guess we’ll have to come down here and tend to it outside of class time.”
“Wonderful,” Harry bit out, and then sent an apologetic glance at Neville when he realized how it had sounded. “What’ll we need right now? I’ll go get the stuff.”
“Er - let’s see. . . . Better get boomslang skin, a few leeches - get five, in case we screw up cutting them - and a mango.”
“A mango?” Harry asked, bemused. Neville shrugged.
“’S what it says.”
He mirrored Neville’s shrug and set off toward the cupboard containing the ingredients.
“Oh, my apologies,” Professor Hawthorne said loudly. Harry saw Hermione walking away from his desk. “The mangoes are to be found in several boxes at the back of the cupboard with Cooling Charms placed on them.”
Harry smirked at the confused expression that twisted the faces of most of his classmates. He only had trouble finding the boomslang skin, which had been stored behind a few other ingredients. When he walked back out he saw that Malfoy was already cutting his own mango carefully, Parkinson beside him slicing a leech.
Just as he set the ingredients down on his station he heard the characteristic chuckle of Zacharias Smith. He rolled his eyes.
“Might wanna have your partner do that, eh, Malfoy? Just in case you accidentally eat some.”
Harry immediately saw red. “Shut the fuck up, Smith!” he shouted. It hadn’t occurred to him before that other students at Hogwarts speculated about Malfoy’s eating disorder. Of course, all the Gryffindors and Slytherins had heard what Zabini had said in the Charms corridor, but Harry hadn’t put it together in his mind that others wouldn’t have forgotten, just like him. And besides that, not everyone was as clueless as him and Ron. Some people may have already been wondering before Zabini fairly confirmed their suspicions.
It took a moment for him to realize everyone in the room was staring at him. The only pair of eyes he felt, however, were Malfoy’s, and the boy looked frightened.
“Mr. Potter!” Professor Hawthorne said sharply.
Harry looked to Malfoy - for what, he didn’t know- and was shocked when a scowl took the place of the anxiety.
“Keep your large head out of it, Potter,” he spat, and it sounded so like his old self that Harry was rendered speechless. Ron and Hermione were looking at him strangely, as though they didn’t know what to believe. Anthony too, though he seemed to suspect something.
“I’m sorry, professor, I -”
“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Potter. Detention tonight directly following dinner. Twenty points from Gryffindor for foul language.” He pierced the class with another stare. “Continue.”
Harry stood in complete silence for another moment before looking over to Malfoy and Parkinson, who seemed to be making it a point not to look anywhere but at their station. Finally, he looked around to Neville.
“What was that?”
Harry shook his head and let out a breath. He began chopping a leech angrily.
“I don’t like Smith.”
“More than you don’t like Malfoy?”
Harry looked up at Neville, who wasn’t very good at hiding his curiosity. He sighed again and continued to chop.
“Sure.”
* * *
Detention was tedious. Hawthorne had him scrub tables and cauldrons, and Harry made a point of checking on his and Neville’s potion before he left. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about it tomorrow since they didn’t have the class.
It was nearing ten o’clock when he left the dungeon classroom and he pulled the Map out to find that Malfoy was in his dorm. His heart sank. He’d been hoping Malfoy would be in the loo.
On another section of the Map he found Anthony sitting in the library. He pursed his lips in thought. It would be a good idea to talk to him. He hadn’t since before Ron’s party, and he certainly didn’t intend to lose Anthony as a boyfriend. Unless he hated Harry, too, which seemed perfectly likely.
With what felt like a lot of effort, Harry went up to the library and found Anthony immediately. He was one of the only five people in there: all seventh or eighth years, due to curfew.
He wandered over and sat down in a chair on the other side of the table. Anthony looked up at him and smiled.
“Hi,” he said brightly, relief almost tangible. Harry fought the urge to bite his lip nervously.
“What are you studying?”
“Hm? Oh . . .” He looked down at his textbook and frowned. “Potions. I’m trying to make up a schedule for me and Terry. When to check on our potion outside of class and all that. You can use it too, if you’d like, with Neville.”
“Thanks.” Harry reached out and placed his hand over Anthony’s. “Sorry I haven’t really talked to you since Monday. I’ve been a little -”
“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s all right.” He turned his hand over to lace their fingers and Harry swallowed silently. “I hope you don’t think I’m mad at you.” Harry carefully schooled his expression into one that said “Of course I know, silly,” but he wasn’t sure how well it worked. Anthony continued, “I think it’s pretty shite what you did to Ron - mean, even, but, well, like I said before, I’m dating you, not him. I still love you; I just think you need to sort out what you’re doing.”
Harry slowly slid his hand back and leaned on it, watching as Anthony went back to writing. “I didn’t mean to stab him in the back like that,” he said. Anthony looked up.
“Were you really with Malfoy?”
“Yeah.”
“Just out of curiosity . . . why did you skive off your best mate’s party for him? I mean, were you angry at Ron, or -”
“No, of course not!” Harry said loudly, and Madam Pince shushed him. “I just . . . I was already tipsy, and . . . He was having a hard time. Malfoy, that is.” He didn’t think he should give Anthony the details. That was private.
“So you just stayed with him all night? Did it help him?”
Harry blushed fiercely. He’d done more than help, that was certain. He hoped Anthony would attribute the blush to his embarrassment at having stayed with Malfoy all night.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just talked to him. Kept him talking, you know, so he wouldn’t think about it.”
Anthony nodded, looking mildly impressed. Harry felt awful.
“Regardless of the situation, I do think what you’re doing is very kind, Harry,” Anthony said with a smile, and leaned across the table to kiss him. Harry was horrified to find that his mind went directly to Malfoy and his lips, and his body, and his pale, smooth skin, and suddenly he could hear Malfoy’s ragged breath inside his head and Harry gasped out loud. Anthony pulled away and chuckled. He had an eyebrow raised.
“I’d be all down for that, Harry, if it wasn’t already late on a Wednesday night. Maybe this weekend.”
Harry laughed a little too erratically and Anthony gave him another look.
“Right. Well, er, I’m gonna head off to bed, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“’Night,” Anthony laughed. He leaned over to kiss him again.
* * *
Harry didn’t get to see Malfoy again until Friday night, and it wasn’t even going to be for very long because he’d promised Anthony he would meet up with him. This wasn’t horribly depressing, as he knew he’d be having sex tonight, but he hadn’t spent time with Malfoy since the night of Ron’s party and he really, really wanted to.
And, he thought, a little angrily as he walked into the loo and saw Malfoy sitting with his legs in the tub, I want an explanation for that mouthing off in Potions.
“Hey,” he said, hearing the anger in his own voice. He’d been very upset at first, and then he’d cooled down, but now it was coming back to him at the sight of Malfoy.
Malfoy looked around and smiled a bit when he saw Harry. Harry fought to keep his face neutral.
“I hope my large head isn’t taking up too much space?”
Malfoy looked utterly confused. He got up and his rolled-up trouser legs sagged as he walked over to Harry, stopping a few feet away.
“What are you talking about?”
“You were a right prick in Potions when I stood up for you,” Harry snapped. Malfoy’s eyes widened and he blushed.
“Potter . . . you can’t do that in public,” he said quietly. “Do you want the whole school to know?”
This statement hit Harry with the force of a bludger. Suddenly he wasn’t angry anymore at all; just ashamed of himself for not having thought about that. And for having immediately assumed Malfoy had gone back to being a little bitch.
Although, he supposed he had good reason to assume. After all, up until only a few weeks ago, Malfoy had been a prat for seven years.
“I didn’t think about that,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate Smith, and I . . .” He felt himself blushing. “It just pissed me off when he said that.”
Malfoy smiled shyly - brilliantly - and closed the space between them so he could kiss Harry. He pulled away just as Harry got his hands on Malfoy’s hips.
“You’ll have to keep the hero business to a minimum, I’m afraid,” he said with a smirk, and Harry bent down to kiss him once more. When Malfoy spoke again he sounded out of breath.
“Concerning me, at least.”
“What about when we’re alone?” he whispered against Malfoy’s ear, and the boy shivered. Harry laughed and bit at his lobe.
“Are you sure you’re Harry Potter?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Because I don’t remember him being this suave.”
Harry laughed loudly. “I guess conquering evil has made me a little more charming.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far-” Malfoy started to say, but Harry cut him off with another kiss. He pulled Malfoy against him and bit down on his lower lip, loving the little breathy whimper he earned. Malfoy had begun fisting his hands in Harry’s jumper when Harry had the presence of mind to stop anything before it got out of hand.
“What’s wrong?” Malfoy asked, looking put out. Harry kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I’m supposed to see Anthony in a bit. I don’t wanna get too carried away.”
Malfoy blushed but frowned.
“When do you have to go?” As he said it, his grip on Harry’s jumper tightened. Harry wondered if he'd noticed he’d done it.
“About half an hour. He wants to go outside.” Malfoy made a face and Harry chuckled. “I agree. It’s too cold. But I do like looking at the stars, so I put up with it. And anyway, he really loves being outside.”
Malfoy released Harry’s jumper and took a step back at that. Harry wanted to hug him and tell him he’d rather be here with him all night, but of course he didn’t. And not only because it frightened him that the thought had even crossed his mind.
“I should probably go now, then,” Malfoy mumbled, and after rolling down his trouser legs he made for the door. Harry stopped him, stood behind him, twined both arms around his waist. He nuzzled Malfoy’s neck and closed his eyes, breathing in his scent.
“Don’t go yet,” he whispered. He heard Malfoy swallow. “I haven’t seen you properly since Monday.” Malfoy didn’t say a word, but something that felt like very strong emotion gripped Harry’s stomach and made him feel like he was going to cry. There were no tears in his eyes, but his gut wrenched and he felt suddenly like the boy in his arms was his whole world.
The moment passed as quickly as it had come, making him feel a little dizzy and confused.
He kissed Malfoy’s neck softly and spun him around to do the same to his lips.
“How’s the eating been?”
“All right.” He took Harry’s hands off his waist and dropped them and then smiled a little apologetically. “I’ve eaten a bit at breakfast or lunch this week.”
“Have you . . . thrown up?” He still felt awkward asking, like it wasn’t his business to do so, even though he knew it was okay.
Malfoy shook his head. “No.”
“Good.” When he moved in again for yet another kiss Malfoy backed away. Harry cocked his head.
“I just . . . You’re seeing Goldstein -”
“I told you it doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter Monday.”
Malfoy flushed. “I know, I just feel weird with you going directly to see him after. . . .”
Harry grabbed him by his belt loops and pulled him into a kiss before he could protest. “Since when,” he whispered against Malfoy’s lips, “do you base your actions on someone else’s wellbeing?”
Malfoy didn’t laugh. “It’s not for him.”
“Then who’s it for?”
Malfoy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Never mind.” And he kissed Harry back; kissed him like he had Monday night when Harry had had his hand on his cock. The snogging was beginning to get out of hand again when Malfoy pulled away. He schooled his features and delicately wiped away the saliva on his lips with his ring finger. When he looked at Harry again, one would not have been able to tell he’d just been involved in a fairly passionate, emotional kiss (save for the bruised lips) had they not been there to witness it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Malfoy nodded. And then, after pulling his sleeves down over his hands in a very uncharacteristically nervous gesture, he walked past Harry and out of the loo. Harry sighed when the door closed behind him.
He hadn’t liked the way Malfoy had responded to that conversation about Anthony. He’d known before that Malfoy felt something towards him - that much was obvious. But until tonight he’d been trying to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal. That it wasn’t a crush, or Merlin forbid anything more.
But the way Malfoy’s hands had tightened in his jumper when he’d mentioned Anthony. And the way he’d looked almost hurt when Harry had said he was going outside with Anthony because Anthony enjoyed it.
But he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet. Not until he was sure. And maybe not even then. It wasn’t worth the possible - probable - fight that would ensue. If he was right, Malfoy would either deny it and lash out, or else be completely distraught that Harry knew. And most likely lash out. And if he was wrong, Malfoy would be angry that Harry had assumed that. And then he’d lash out.
Fuck, Malfoy was unstable. But that was what Harry liked about him. It drew him closer and turned him on just a little bit more than it pissed him off, and that was enough.
He prayed to whoever would listen that he wasn’t digging himself into a hole he wouldn’t be able to climb out of.
Chapter Fourteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Sixteen