It's Not A Love Potion - 10/14
Title: It's Not A Love Potion
Rating: R
Disclaimer: *disclaims*
Summary: “Now, lust potions develop feelings of desire in the taker without the affection that a love potion gives, so Malfoy, you will find that you continue to see Potter as the insufferable twit that he is." Not HBP/DH compliant.
Author note: This story is complete and just needs bazzing through the beta machine, so updates will be fairly regular. I'm still finding my feet in the whole fic-writing thing, so feedback - concrit especially - would be most welcome.
[<< Previous chapter]
Bloody typical. Everything seemed to have been going well for Draco for three wonderful, blissful days, and then it all went and got ruined. Ruined by an idiot who was not worthy to call himself a pureblood. For Merlin's sake, Longbottom was practically a bloody squib!
A whole other month. A month! It still hadn't really sunk in. After he'd successfully destroyed his dormitory, stormed up to the Room of Requirement and destroyed that too, his crazed rage had finally faded. It was lucky he hadn't run into Zabini or Longbottom, otherwise it was very likely he'd have blood on his hands.
Now, cold logic was beginning to settle. Draco always enjoyed this part of his fury. It meant that someone was going to suffer.
He'd have to spend Christmas at Hogwarts, obviously. Being away from Potter for two weeks was unthinkable. Merlin knew what he was going to tell his parents. He'd only stayed at school over the Christmas holidays once; in second year. And that was only because he was determined to find out who the heir of Slytherin was.
He had ended up spending the majority of Christmas alone that year, too. It was before Pansy stopped being a creepy stalker, and Crabbe and Goyle had eaten themselves even stupider than usual and wound up rushing to the hospital wing. Ever since then, Draco had gone back to Malfoy Manor for Christmas so he could be fawned over properly.
Christmas alone with Potter was a miserable concept, even if Draco didn't find him that insufferable any more. It was still Potter. And now Draco had to spend another month in his almost-continuous company. What utter bollocks.
He flopped backwards onto the bed. He'd just have to take charge of the situation, that's all. Find a way to work it to his advantage. It was difficult right now to see a good side to the situation, but he was a Slytherin, wasn't he? He could manipulate anything to suit his needs, he was brilliant at it. So, all he needed to do was think.
Two hours later and the most he'd been able to come up with is 'I get to have a sex life for an extra three weeks'. Which, actually, wasn't that terrible of a silver lining. Even if he'd gladly forgo the frequent orgasms to be rid of the bloody potion once and for all.
Determined to do his best to regain power in his life, Draco stood up and headed for the desk near the window, which he had unofficially claimed as his own. First of all, he'd write to his parents and tell them that he wouldn't be joining them for Christmas. They were bound to owl back and demand to know why, but he could deal with that. It would hardly be the first time he had lied to his mother and father, after all.
Then, he'd… well, he'd probably just continue as he had been. When you really thought about it, it was just a mild inconvenience. It wasn't as if anybody knew about them, save Pansy, and she'd be so delighted that Draco was actually in a relationship (with a boy, no less) that she'd keep quiet about it. Probably.
Not that Draco was in a relationship with Potter. Pansy just thought he was. Just so he was being clear.
That decided, Draco fished out some decent-quality parchment and ink and settled down to write.
He felt the tingling sense of Potter's presence before the door to the Room even opened and he swore.
"Just a minute," he said as soon as Harry walked in. "Let me finish this."
He felt Harry approach his chair and forced his mind to concentrate. … focus on my studies to prepare for the approaching NEWTS; I am sure you will understand…
Harry, to his credit, said nothing, but did make a nuisance of himself by rooting around the desk and reading bits of Draco's homework and various notes he'd written.
… your son, Draco.
"Done!" Draco crowed triumphantly and set the letter aside for the ink to dry.
"I thought you were left-handed," Potter commented lightly.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I am," he assured, holding up his ink-stained left hand to prove it. "But my mother taught me how to write, and she insisted it wasn't proper to use one's left hand for anything other than wand work. So this hand is my 'writing to my parents' hand, 'cause my writing is neater with my right."
Harry glanced back down at the scribbles covering the parchment littering the desk. "… Are you sure you're not actually right-handed?"
Draco looked at his notes, too. Okay, his handwriting wasn't perfect in his left, but it was legible. Ish. "Of course I'm sure," he replied haughtily. "It's more comfortable writing with your left hand. I don't know how you righties can cope holding a quill for so long, it's a right pain."
Harry shook his head, but appeared to give in. "You're so weird, Malfoy," he said.
Draco grinned. "Says the survivor of Avada Kedavra," he retorted. Harry's mouth twisted into a not-quite smile.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
Draco considered the question, contemplating the seven ways to kill Longbottom slowly and painfully that he'd thought up. "I'm okay," he said finally. "I wouldn't let me loose near Longbottom for a while, though. How about you?"
Potter blinked. "Me?"
"Well, yeah, you're affected by this just as much as I am. If not more, right?"
"Right, yeah," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Yeah, no, we'll get through it. It hasn't been that bad so far, has it? It's just the same amount of time that we've already done. Should be a breeze."
Draco was amazed at the lengths to which Potter would go to be noble. At least when Draco kissed Potter, he had the potion to make him feel good (really good, but that was beside the point). In Harry's case, he was just doing it to be a good guy. Yeah, he occasionally got off, but knowing Potter he was doing that on purpose to make Draco feel better. Bloody Gryffindors.
"You are staying for the Christmas holidays, right?" Draco demanded.
"I wasn't going to, but yeah, of course I will," Harry said, fiddling with a bit of parchment. "What about the other Slytherins? Parkinson, is she staying too?"
Draco shook his head, eyes fixed on the way Harry's fingers stroked the edge of the scrap. Up… and down. Up… "Not if the previous six years are anything to go by. She always goes with her mother to France or Italy or somewhere like that, I can't remember exactly. But, yeah, she never stays here. Crabbe and Goyle probably would, if I asked them to, but it'll probably be less of a pain if they leave. What about you?"
"Ron and Hermione'll be staying at the Weasleys', probably," Harry said, his mouth twisting glumly. "They'll probably want to stay here when I tell them I am, but I'm getting really fed up of lying to them all the time. I'll make sure they're out of the way, don't worry."
***
Friday rolled around and saw the rest of the school going home to their parents' or friends' houses, Pansy leaving with a sloppy kiss on the cheek and a knowing smirk. The almost-empty castle unnerved Draco a bit; he was used to having to sneak around and avoid people, but now he could pretty much do what he liked. He saw why some people preferred to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas.
He and Harry had taken to both sleeping in the Room of Requirement, neither one of them fancying staying in empty dormitories. Of course, they had to make frequent trips back to their common rooms for clothes (and also so the few students who were staying in the castle over the holidays didn't notice that something was up), but all in all both of them practically lived in the Room.
It was the Tuesday morning after they'd broken up - the day before Christmas Eve (and exactly a week since that oaf Longbottom had ruined Draco's Christmas, meaning that without him, Draco would be completely free of the potion by now) - and, after an exhausting night, Draco had collapsed on the bed and fallen straight to sleep. He woke up around ten hours later to a truly heavenly scent.
He forced his eyes open and groggily took in the sight of Harry, fully dressed, holding out a mug of steaming coffee.
"Sweet Merlin, Potter, I knew there must have been a reason why I got landed with you," he said gratefully, struggling out from under the quilt and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh, this potion thing isn't so bad after all."
Harry grinned. "Two sugars, right?"
Draco wrapped his hands around the mug and inhaled deeply. "Oh, Merlin, yes," he moaned and took a sip. He could almost feel the caffeine and warmth spreading out all around his body. "Ohh it's so good."
"Steady on," Harry said. "I might start to think I've done something right, for once." Draco absently flicked him the Vs, too absorbed in his coffee to care about Potter's defective sense of humour. Yes, this really wasn't that bad at all. If Potter kept this up, he might even consider forgiving Longbottom, the bumbling fool.
Christmas Eve passed fairly uneventfully, and Christmas morning dawned on Hogwarts to see Draco - who had never really grown out of this particular habit - awake at six o'clock (an ungodly hour on any other day), rifling through the presents at the bottom of the bed, and trying not to disturb Harry, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.
Resisting the urge to just unwrap them all right then, Draco sorted the gifts neatly into two piles - Harry's (which was horrendously small, in comparison) and his own. Then, he split his gifts into two; family, and friends.
There was one gift that didn't fit in either pile, though; Draco, who hadn't even considered getting Potter anything, was surprised to find a (shockingly neatly-wrapped) present with a tag that read 'Merry Christmas! -HP'. And unless Draco knew someone else with the initials HP…
He tore open the wrapping paper, ignoring all the other gifts. It was a tiny bottle with another note attached that read: "Just something that I saw last weekend and made me think of you. It's everlasting, too, so if you don't break it or lose it or anything, you're sorted for life. But then again, I've seen the state of your wardrobe. Good luck with that. -H"
Immensely curious, Draco picked up the bottle and examined it closely, then laughed. Potter had given him smudge-resistant ink. The adorable, sentimental git.
Harry made a snuffling noise beside him, probably disturbed by Draco's laugh, and Draco smirked. He'd just have to thank Harry properly, wouldn't he?
He placed the bottle carefully on the bedside table, and, ignoring the rest of his presents, crawled beneath the covers to express his deepest gratitude.
***
"I'm so bored cooped up in the castle!" Draco burst out one morning a few days after Christmas, after they'd made it through most of the festivities Dumbledore insisted on putting on. "I think I'll go into Hogsmeade today."
Harry looked a little put out. "Um, okay. I could try and do some homework while you're gone, I guess."
"Don't be an idiot, I want you with me," Draco said, waving a hand. Maybe they could buy Potter some traditional wizard's clothes. Anything was better than the tatty shirts he wore (although Draco wasn't all that opposed to the fitted Muggle trousers).
"I don't really think Hogsmeade is ready to see you and me getting along," Harry said slowly. "And by 'getting along' I of course mean snogging, which will inevitably happen."
"Mm," Draco agreed. Snogging in Hogsmeade. That would be fun too. They could get their own little booth in the Three Broomsticks and… he shook his head. "No. Obviously that would not be a good idea," he said disdainfully.
Harry looked confused. "Then what…?" he asked. "I mean, I have my invisibility cloak, I guess."
"Harry," Draco said disbelievingly. "Sometimes I think you act this stupid just to spite me." Harry looked at him blankly. Draco sighed and resigned himself to detailing his plan as if to a four year old. Or to a Gryffindor.
"Boot and Goldstein are both staying in the castle for Christmas," he explained.
Harry stared at him. "So?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "So, we can nick some Polyjuice potion and go to Hogsmeade looking like them! Then we're free to do as we like, snogging and all!" He looked over at Harry triumphantly. Harry, however, still looked confused.
"Don't you think it's a bit mean to have people spread rumours about them? I mean, chances are that someone will start talking about it if they - I mean, we - start kissing right in front of everyone."
Oh, nobody could possibly be that obtuse. Really. "Potter, they're dating. Have been for over a year."
Harry's eyes widened comically. "Goldstein and-Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot?"
"The very same," Draco drawled. "So we just nick a bit of their hair, grab some of Snape's spare Polyjuice and away we go!"
Harry thought for a moment. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "But only if I can make one or two changes to the plan."
Harry - bloody honesty, Draco was sick of it - insisted that he explain the situation to the Ravenclaws rather than knocking them out and stealing their hair. Draco reluctantly agreed that this made sense; if Boot and Goldstein promised to stay out of the way for the duration of the day, there was less chance of their plan being found out.
Of course, just telling somebody else that Harry's girlfriend wasn't actually a girl was a risk, even if he didn't give away Draco's actual identity. It meant that at least two people were concentrating their attentions on Harry's interaction with other boys, and seeing as Draco was the person Harry was spending most of his free time with…
Well. You hardly needed to be a Ravenclaw to work it out.
Nonetheless, the plan went ahead and by noon, Harry had procured two strands of hair and a promise from the Ravenclaws to stay in their dorm for a few hours (although Draco imagined they hardly saw that as a hardship). Draco already had two spare bottles of Polyjuice potion from the time they took Harry's lust potion to Snape (they were just lying around, how could he resist?) and so right after lunch, they were ready to set off.
First, though, they had to actually drink the potion.
It was a horrible experience. Draco had only taken Polyjuice potion once, last year, and even though Goldstein tasted a damn sight nicer than Snape had (long story), the sensation of his flesh melting and reshaping itself was not a pleasant one.
When the transformation was finally over, Draco made a discovery: apparently Orexis Votum wasn't fooled by Polyjuice potion; it was bizarre to look at Terry Boot's face and feel the familiar frisson of desire shoot up and down his body.
Draco reached out a hand and ran his fingers down Potter's new arm. Ohh, yes, the potion was still very much active.
Harry looked at him in amazement. "This is weird," he said, echoing Draco's thoughts. "Although I do enjoy being taller than you."
Draco pouted. "Only a little bit," he said. "And by the end of the day, you'll be back to your midget self and I'll be towering over you in my proper place once again."
"You do not tower over me!" Harry spluttered. "You're barely even an inch-"
Draco grinned and dragged him into a kiss. It was definitely odd to be kissing someone taller than him. He supposed he could live with it, though, for the thrill of being out in the village and snogging the Boy Who Lived in front of everyone. And, Merlin, it still felt so good.
"Mrm, we're gonna have to stop," Harry said against his mouth. "I'd rather not be walking around Hogsmeade with a hard-on, thanks."
"We'll take care of it before we go," Draco murmured, his blood warming at the very thought.
Harry determinedly pulled away. "I am not touching Anthony Goldstein's cock," he said, grimacing.
"I could suck-"
"No," Harry said firmly, and Draco gave up.
"Fine," he said, and ran a hand through his new darker and fluffier hair. "I bet you taste better as yourself anyway. I've seen what Boot thinks counts for food and it does not bode well. I swear he has some form of seafood for every single meal."
***
Draco was amazed at how much he enjoyed being able to touch Harry whenever he wanted while they were in Hogsmeade. Before then, his life had had a clear divide: inside the Room of Requirement (where he was allowed to relax and snog Potter until his heart's content) and outside the Room of Requirement (where he was decidedly not).
But now, the divide was non-existent. He was able to joke about with Harry, throw playful snowballs at him, get distracted by the gleam in his eyes and wrap his arms around him and kiss him, all in full view of the residents of Hogsmeade.
And none of them seemed to mind! At least three old witches passed them and clucked approvingly, which Draco was certain they would not do if they knew just what was going through his mind whenever he touched Harry.
It was after the fourth time that they'd heard someone talking about the charming nature of young love that Harry broke away from him and dragged him into a nearby alleyway, eyes sparkling. Draco looked at him questioningly.
"I feel dirty with them watching," Harry explained, his face flushed from the cold and a happy smile on his (Boot's) face. "It was bad enough with Parkinson; they're old enough to be my great-grandmother."
And he captured Draco's mouth again.
Draco had to admit: it was a lot easier to get lost in the kiss without having to listen to the gossips of Hogsmeade commenting on how cute they were. He pulled Harry closer and allowed tendrils of desire to envelop him. Merlin, but even though his face and hair and body were all wrong, it was still Harry kissing him.
It was all playful tongues and a stubborn refusal to give in and a fierce determination to make Draco feel good and sweet Merlin it was working. Draco could do nothing but clutch onto Potter's shoulders with gloved hands and try not to melt into the wall while Harry seemed to be doing his level best to make it happen.
Harry let out a low growl and Draco couldn't help whimpering in return. He cursed his winter clothing for making rubbing himself off on Harry's leg very difficult, but fuck if he wasn't going to give it a shot anyway.
An itching sensation began at the base of his spine. He ignored it at first, far too lost in Harry to care about a bloody itch, but it grew worse, spreading all over his body until he had to break the kiss and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. He heard a sharp intake of breath somewhere vaguely above him but didn't really care about anything other than the knives stabbing him open; Merlin this hurt.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Draco looked up.
Oh, fuck, but there was Harry. His Harry, with the scar and the atrocious hair and the green eyes currently squinting without their glasses.
Not even giving Harry time to speak, Draco kissed him, hard, so ridiculously pleased to taste Harry's mouth rather than Terry Boot's (and not just because of the fishy tang). Oh, and he was the perfect height for Draco to clutch at his hair and deepen the kiss until he was aware of nothing at all but Harry, Merlin, Harry who was moaning quietly into Draco's mouth and Draco yanked Harry's arse closer and thrust and shit that felt good and he did it again and again and again and fuck Harry's mouth tasted amazing and his hips were still thrusting and Merlin this was so right and Draco let out a muffled yell and buried his face in Harry's shoulder and came hard.
He finally came back to himself to realise that Harry was absently stroking his hair, his hips rocking minutely.
"Did you not…?"
"No," Harry answered a little breathlessly. "But it's fine, I'll wait until we get back-"
"Like hell you will," Draco growled and spun them around. "I may not be allowed to give Terry Boot's dick a blowjob, but you just try and stop me from doing it to yours."
He had Potter's trousers open in less than five seconds (he was getting quite good at working zips now, although who in their right mind would put their cock next to a row of metal teeth?) and swallowed Harry to the root. Harry let out a deep moan and slid his hand into Draco's hair, fingers tightening as his head fell back and his mouth panted out gasps that were visible in the cold air. It was rushed - wet and messy - but it wasn't long before Harry was tugging at his hair, a warning, "Draco, god, I'm-" and Draco was swallowing greedily, his mouth full and his eyes fixed on Harry, beautiful Harry, who was arching beautifully, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent shout.
It was quiet in the alleyway, their heavy breathing the only sound.
"That was - that was risky," Harry panted, his head still tilted back to rest against the wall.
"No one will have seen," Draco said quietly, tucking Harry back in (but leaving his jeans open; he wasn't that good with zips yet). "We have more Polyjuice with us, right?"
Harry nodded and, visibly pulling himself together, removed the two bottles of Polyjuice from his bag. "Enough for about another four hours, I think, if we're careful."
"We'll be careful," Draco assured, and the two of them downed the potions quickly, wincing as their bodies changed for the third time that day.
***
The holidays were over far too quickly, in Draco's opinion. It seemed like he had only just stayed awake until midnight in order to kiss Harry as soon as the New Year rolled in when the castle was teeming with life again, lessons recommenced, and Draco and Harry had to go back to lying to their friends and sneaking around after hours and not waking up next to each other.
They'd only had a few days of this when Draco was already sick of it. But, thanks to their two-week break, they didn't have that long left until the new antidote was ready. That was, of course, as long as Longbottom stayed well away from the cauldron.
Cheered by this thought, he caught Harry's eye from across the Great Hall and grinned. Harry grinned back and nodded questioningly towards the door. Who was Draco to refuse such an invitation?
Making his excuses to the Slytherins (who by now didn't care where he kept disappearing off to), he joined Harry in the Entrance Hall and the two of them made their way up to the seventh floor through the empty castle, chatting idly about the latest gossip (it was Draco's new goal to get Harry up-to-date on school news; one day he'd even teach Harry the names of everybody in their year), until they came across an unexpected obstruction.
"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, Snape at his side looking grim. "I'd like a word with you in my office. Immediately."
[Next chapter >>]
Rating: R
Disclaimer: *disclaims*
Summary: “Now, lust potions develop feelings of desire in the taker without the affection that a love potion gives, so Malfoy, you will find that you continue to see Potter as the insufferable twit that he is." Not HBP/DH compliant.
Author note: This story is complete and just needs bazzing through the beta machine, so updates will be fairly regular. I'm still finding my feet in the whole fic-writing thing, so feedback - concrit especially - would be most welcome.
[<< Previous chapter]
Bloody typical. Everything seemed to have been going well for Draco for three wonderful, blissful days, and then it all went and got ruined. Ruined by an idiot who was not worthy to call himself a pureblood. For Merlin's sake, Longbottom was practically a bloody squib!
A whole other month. A month! It still hadn't really sunk in. After he'd successfully destroyed his dormitory, stormed up to the Room of Requirement and destroyed that too, his crazed rage had finally faded. It was lucky he hadn't run into Zabini or Longbottom, otherwise it was very likely he'd have blood on his hands.
Now, cold logic was beginning to settle. Draco always enjoyed this part of his fury. It meant that someone was going to suffer.
He'd have to spend Christmas at Hogwarts, obviously. Being away from Potter for two weeks was unthinkable. Merlin knew what he was going to tell his parents. He'd only stayed at school over the Christmas holidays once; in second year. And that was only because he was determined to find out who the heir of Slytherin was.
He had ended up spending the majority of Christmas alone that year, too. It was before Pansy stopped being a creepy stalker, and Crabbe and Goyle had eaten themselves even stupider than usual and wound up rushing to the hospital wing. Ever since then, Draco had gone back to Malfoy Manor for Christmas so he could be fawned over properly.
Christmas alone with Potter was a miserable concept, even if Draco didn't find him that insufferable any more. It was still Potter. And now Draco had to spend another month in his almost-continuous company. What utter bollocks.
He flopped backwards onto the bed. He'd just have to take charge of the situation, that's all. Find a way to work it to his advantage. It was difficult right now to see a good side to the situation, but he was a Slytherin, wasn't he? He could manipulate anything to suit his needs, he was brilliant at it. So, all he needed to do was think.
Two hours later and the most he'd been able to come up with is 'I get to have a sex life for an extra three weeks'. Which, actually, wasn't that terrible of a silver lining. Even if he'd gladly forgo the frequent orgasms to be rid of the bloody potion once and for all.
Determined to do his best to regain power in his life, Draco stood up and headed for the desk near the window, which he had unofficially claimed as his own. First of all, he'd write to his parents and tell them that he wouldn't be joining them for Christmas. They were bound to owl back and demand to know why, but he could deal with that. It would hardly be the first time he had lied to his mother and father, after all.
Then, he'd… well, he'd probably just continue as he had been. When you really thought about it, it was just a mild inconvenience. It wasn't as if anybody knew about them, save Pansy, and she'd be so delighted that Draco was actually in a relationship (with a boy, no less) that she'd keep quiet about it. Probably.
Not that Draco was in a relationship with Potter. Pansy just thought he was. Just so he was being clear.
That decided, Draco fished out some decent-quality parchment and ink and settled down to write.
He felt the tingling sense of Potter's presence before the door to the Room even opened and he swore.
"Just a minute," he said as soon as Harry walked in. "Let me finish this."
He felt Harry approach his chair and forced his mind to concentrate. … focus on my studies to prepare for the approaching NEWTS; I am sure you will understand…
Harry, to his credit, said nothing, but did make a nuisance of himself by rooting around the desk and reading bits of Draco's homework and various notes he'd written.
… your son, Draco.
"Done!" Draco crowed triumphantly and set the letter aside for the ink to dry.
"I thought you were left-handed," Potter commented lightly.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I am," he assured, holding up his ink-stained left hand to prove it. "But my mother taught me how to write, and she insisted it wasn't proper to use one's left hand for anything other than wand work. So this hand is my 'writing to my parents' hand, 'cause my writing is neater with my right."
Harry glanced back down at the scribbles covering the parchment littering the desk. "… Are you sure you're not actually right-handed?"
Draco looked at his notes, too. Okay, his handwriting wasn't perfect in his left, but it was legible. Ish. "Of course I'm sure," he replied haughtily. "It's more comfortable writing with your left hand. I don't know how you righties can cope holding a quill for so long, it's a right pain."
Harry shook his head, but appeared to give in. "You're so weird, Malfoy," he said.
Draco grinned. "Says the survivor of Avada Kedavra," he retorted. Harry's mouth twisted into a not-quite smile.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
Draco considered the question, contemplating the seven ways to kill Longbottom slowly and painfully that he'd thought up. "I'm okay," he said finally. "I wouldn't let me loose near Longbottom for a while, though. How about you?"
Potter blinked. "Me?"
"Well, yeah, you're affected by this just as much as I am. If not more, right?"
"Right, yeah," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Yeah, no, we'll get through it. It hasn't been that bad so far, has it? It's just the same amount of time that we've already done. Should be a breeze."
Draco was amazed at the lengths to which Potter would go to be noble. At least when Draco kissed Potter, he had the potion to make him feel good (really good, but that was beside the point). In Harry's case, he was just doing it to be a good guy. Yeah, he occasionally got off, but knowing Potter he was doing that on purpose to make Draco feel better. Bloody Gryffindors.
"You are staying for the Christmas holidays, right?" Draco demanded.
"I wasn't going to, but yeah, of course I will," Harry said, fiddling with a bit of parchment. "What about the other Slytherins? Parkinson, is she staying too?"
Draco shook his head, eyes fixed on the way Harry's fingers stroked the edge of the scrap. Up… and down. Up… "Not if the previous six years are anything to go by. She always goes with her mother to France or Italy or somewhere like that, I can't remember exactly. But, yeah, she never stays here. Crabbe and Goyle probably would, if I asked them to, but it'll probably be less of a pain if they leave. What about you?"
"Ron and Hermione'll be staying at the Weasleys', probably," Harry said, his mouth twisting glumly. "They'll probably want to stay here when I tell them I am, but I'm getting really fed up of lying to them all the time. I'll make sure they're out of the way, don't worry."
***
Friday rolled around and saw the rest of the school going home to their parents' or friends' houses, Pansy leaving with a sloppy kiss on the cheek and a knowing smirk. The almost-empty castle unnerved Draco a bit; he was used to having to sneak around and avoid people, but now he could pretty much do what he liked. He saw why some people preferred to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas.
He and Harry had taken to both sleeping in the Room of Requirement, neither one of them fancying staying in empty dormitories. Of course, they had to make frequent trips back to their common rooms for clothes (and also so the few students who were staying in the castle over the holidays didn't notice that something was up), but all in all both of them practically lived in the Room.
It was the Tuesday morning after they'd broken up - the day before Christmas Eve (and exactly a week since that oaf Longbottom had ruined Draco's Christmas, meaning that without him, Draco would be completely free of the potion by now) - and, after an exhausting night, Draco had collapsed on the bed and fallen straight to sleep. He woke up around ten hours later to a truly heavenly scent.
He forced his eyes open and groggily took in the sight of Harry, fully dressed, holding out a mug of steaming coffee.
"Sweet Merlin, Potter, I knew there must have been a reason why I got landed with you," he said gratefully, struggling out from under the quilt and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh, this potion thing isn't so bad after all."
Harry grinned. "Two sugars, right?"
Draco wrapped his hands around the mug and inhaled deeply. "Oh, Merlin, yes," he moaned and took a sip. He could almost feel the caffeine and warmth spreading out all around his body. "Ohh it's so good."
"Steady on," Harry said. "I might start to think I've done something right, for once." Draco absently flicked him the Vs, too absorbed in his coffee to care about Potter's defective sense of humour. Yes, this really wasn't that bad at all. If Potter kept this up, he might even consider forgiving Longbottom, the bumbling fool.
Christmas Eve passed fairly uneventfully, and Christmas morning dawned on Hogwarts to see Draco - who had never really grown out of this particular habit - awake at six o'clock (an ungodly hour on any other day), rifling through the presents at the bottom of the bed, and trying not to disturb Harry, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.
Resisting the urge to just unwrap them all right then, Draco sorted the gifts neatly into two piles - Harry's (which was horrendously small, in comparison) and his own. Then, he split his gifts into two; family, and friends.
There was one gift that didn't fit in either pile, though; Draco, who hadn't even considered getting Potter anything, was surprised to find a (shockingly neatly-wrapped) present with a tag that read 'Merry Christmas! -HP'. And unless Draco knew someone else with the initials HP…
He tore open the wrapping paper, ignoring all the other gifts. It was a tiny bottle with another note attached that read: "Just something that I saw last weekend and made me think of you. It's everlasting, too, so if you don't break it or lose it or anything, you're sorted for life. But then again, I've seen the state of your wardrobe. Good luck with that. -H"
Immensely curious, Draco picked up the bottle and examined it closely, then laughed. Potter had given him smudge-resistant ink. The adorable, sentimental git.
Harry made a snuffling noise beside him, probably disturbed by Draco's laugh, and Draco smirked. He'd just have to thank Harry properly, wouldn't he?
He placed the bottle carefully on the bedside table, and, ignoring the rest of his presents, crawled beneath the covers to express his deepest gratitude.
***
"I'm so bored cooped up in the castle!" Draco burst out one morning a few days after Christmas, after they'd made it through most of the festivities Dumbledore insisted on putting on. "I think I'll go into Hogsmeade today."
Harry looked a little put out. "Um, okay. I could try and do some homework while you're gone, I guess."
"Don't be an idiot, I want you with me," Draco said, waving a hand. Maybe they could buy Potter some traditional wizard's clothes. Anything was better than the tatty shirts he wore (although Draco wasn't all that opposed to the fitted Muggle trousers).
"I don't really think Hogsmeade is ready to see you and me getting along," Harry said slowly. "And by 'getting along' I of course mean snogging, which will inevitably happen."
"Mm," Draco agreed. Snogging in Hogsmeade. That would be fun too. They could get their own little booth in the Three Broomsticks and… he shook his head. "No. Obviously that would not be a good idea," he said disdainfully.
Harry looked confused. "Then what…?" he asked. "I mean, I have my invisibility cloak, I guess."
"Harry," Draco said disbelievingly. "Sometimes I think you act this stupid just to spite me." Harry looked at him blankly. Draco sighed and resigned himself to detailing his plan as if to a four year old. Or to a Gryffindor.
"Boot and Goldstein are both staying in the castle for Christmas," he explained.
Harry stared at him. "So?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "So, we can nick some Polyjuice potion and go to Hogsmeade looking like them! Then we're free to do as we like, snogging and all!" He looked over at Harry triumphantly. Harry, however, still looked confused.
"Don't you think it's a bit mean to have people spread rumours about them? I mean, chances are that someone will start talking about it if they - I mean, we - start kissing right in front of everyone."
Oh, nobody could possibly be that obtuse. Really. "Potter, they're dating. Have been for over a year."
Harry's eyes widened comically. "Goldstein and-Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot?"
"The very same," Draco drawled. "So we just nick a bit of their hair, grab some of Snape's spare Polyjuice and away we go!"
Harry thought for a moment. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "But only if I can make one or two changes to the plan."
Harry - bloody honesty, Draco was sick of it - insisted that he explain the situation to the Ravenclaws rather than knocking them out and stealing their hair. Draco reluctantly agreed that this made sense; if Boot and Goldstein promised to stay out of the way for the duration of the day, there was less chance of their plan being found out.
Of course, just telling somebody else that Harry's girlfriend wasn't actually a girl was a risk, even if he didn't give away Draco's actual identity. It meant that at least two people were concentrating their attentions on Harry's interaction with other boys, and seeing as Draco was the person Harry was spending most of his free time with…
Well. You hardly needed to be a Ravenclaw to work it out.
Nonetheless, the plan went ahead and by noon, Harry had procured two strands of hair and a promise from the Ravenclaws to stay in their dorm for a few hours (although Draco imagined they hardly saw that as a hardship). Draco already had two spare bottles of Polyjuice potion from the time they took Harry's lust potion to Snape (they were just lying around, how could he resist?) and so right after lunch, they were ready to set off.
First, though, they had to actually drink the potion.
It was a horrible experience. Draco had only taken Polyjuice potion once, last year, and even though Goldstein tasted a damn sight nicer than Snape had (long story), the sensation of his flesh melting and reshaping itself was not a pleasant one.
When the transformation was finally over, Draco made a discovery: apparently Orexis Votum wasn't fooled by Polyjuice potion; it was bizarre to look at Terry Boot's face and feel the familiar frisson of desire shoot up and down his body.
Draco reached out a hand and ran his fingers down Potter's new arm. Ohh, yes, the potion was still very much active.
Harry looked at him in amazement. "This is weird," he said, echoing Draco's thoughts. "Although I do enjoy being taller than you."
Draco pouted. "Only a little bit," he said. "And by the end of the day, you'll be back to your midget self and I'll be towering over you in my proper place once again."
"You do not tower over me!" Harry spluttered. "You're barely even an inch-"
Draco grinned and dragged him into a kiss. It was definitely odd to be kissing someone taller than him. He supposed he could live with it, though, for the thrill of being out in the village and snogging the Boy Who Lived in front of everyone. And, Merlin, it still felt so good.
"Mrm, we're gonna have to stop," Harry said against his mouth. "I'd rather not be walking around Hogsmeade with a hard-on, thanks."
"We'll take care of it before we go," Draco murmured, his blood warming at the very thought.
Harry determinedly pulled away. "I am not touching Anthony Goldstein's cock," he said, grimacing.
"I could suck-"
"No," Harry said firmly, and Draco gave up.
"Fine," he said, and ran a hand through his new darker and fluffier hair. "I bet you taste better as yourself anyway. I've seen what Boot thinks counts for food and it does not bode well. I swear he has some form of seafood for every single meal."
***
Draco was amazed at how much he enjoyed being able to touch Harry whenever he wanted while they were in Hogsmeade. Before then, his life had had a clear divide: inside the Room of Requirement (where he was allowed to relax and snog Potter until his heart's content) and outside the Room of Requirement (where he was decidedly not).
But now, the divide was non-existent. He was able to joke about with Harry, throw playful snowballs at him, get distracted by the gleam in his eyes and wrap his arms around him and kiss him, all in full view of the residents of Hogsmeade.
And none of them seemed to mind! At least three old witches passed them and clucked approvingly, which Draco was certain they would not do if they knew just what was going through his mind whenever he touched Harry.
It was after the fourth time that they'd heard someone talking about the charming nature of young love that Harry broke away from him and dragged him into a nearby alleyway, eyes sparkling. Draco looked at him questioningly.
"I feel dirty with them watching," Harry explained, his face flushed from the cold and a happy smile on his (Boot's) face. "It was bad enough with Parkinson; they're old enough to be my great-grandmother."
And he captured Draco's mouth again.
Draco had to admit: it was a lot easier to get lost in the kiss without having to listen to the gossips of Hogsmeade commenting on how cute they were. He pulled Harry closer and allowed tendrils of desire to envelop him. Merlin, but even though his face and hair and body were all wrong, it was still Harry kissing him.
It was all playful tongues and a stubborn refusal to give in and a fierce determination to make Draco feel good and sweet Merlin it was working. Draco could do nothing but clutch onto Potter's shoulders with gloved hands and try not to melt into the wall while Harry seemed to be doing his level best to make it happen.
Harry let out a low growl and Draco couldn't help whimpering in return. He cursed his winter clothing for making rubbing himself off on Harry's leg very difficult, but fuck if he wasn't going to give it a shot anyway.
An itching sensation began at the base of his spine. He ignored it at first, far too lost in Harry to care about a bloody itch, but it grew worse, spreading all over his body until he had to break the kiss and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. He heard a sharp intake of breath somewhere vaguely above him but didn't really care about anything other than the knives stabbing him open; Merlin this hurt.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Draco looked up.
Oh, fuck, but there was Harry. His Harry, with the scar and the atrocious hair and the green eyes currently squinting without their glasses.
Not even giving Harry time to speak, Draco kissed him, hard, so ridiculously pleased to taste Harry's mouth rather than Terry Boot's (and not just because of the fishy tang). Oh, and he was the perfect height for Draco to clutch at his hair and deepen the kiss until he was aware of nothing at all but Harry, Merlin, Harry who was moaning quietly into Draco's mouth and Draco yanked Harry's arse closer and thrust and shit that felt good and he did it again and again and again and fuck Harry's mouth tasted amazing and his hips were still thrusting and Merlin this was so right and Draco let out a muffled yell and buried his face in Harry's shoulder and came hard.
He finally came back to himself to realise that Harry was absently stroking his hair, his hips rocking minutely.
"Did you not…?"
"No," Harry answered a little breathlessly. "But it's fine, I'll wait until we get back-"
"Like hell you will," Draco growled and spun them around. "I may not be allowed to give Terry Boot's dick a blowjob, but you just try and stop me from doing it to yours."
He had Potter's trousers open in less than five seconds (he was getting quite good at working zips now, although who in their right mind would put their cock next to a row of metal teeth?) and swallowed Harry to the root. Harry let out a deep moan and slid his hand into Draco's hair, fingers tightening as his head fell back and his mouth panted out gasps that were visible in the cold air. It was rushed - wet and messy - but it wasn't long before Harry was tugging at his hair, a warning, "Draco, god, I'm-" and Draco was swallowing greedily, his mouth full and his eyes fixed on Harry, beautiful Harry, who was arching beautifully, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent shout.
It was quiet in the alleyway, their heavy breathing the only sound.
"That was - that was risky," Harry panted, his head still tilted back to rest against the wall.
"No one will have seen," Draco said quietly, tucking Harry back in (but leaving his jeans open; he wasn't that good with zips yet). "We have more Polyjuice with us, right?"
Harry nodded and, visibly pulling himself together, removed the two bottles of Polyjuice from his bag. "Enough for about another four hours, I think, if we're careful."
"We'll be careful," Draco assured, and the two of them downed the potions quickly, wincing as their bodies changed for the third time that day.
***
The holidays were over far too quickly, in Draco's opinion. It seemed like he had only just stayed awake until midnight in order to kiss Harry as soon as the New Year rolled in when the castle was teeming with life again, lessons recommenced, and Draco and Harry had to go back to lying to their friends and sneaking around after hours and not waking up next to each other.
They'd only had a few days of this when Draco was already sick of it. But, thanks to their two-week break, they didn't have that long left until the new antidote was ready. That was, of course, as long as Longbottom stayed well away from the cauldron.
Cheered by this thought, he caught Harry's eye from across the Great Hall and grinned. Harry grinned back and nodded questioningly towards the door. Who was Draco to refuse such an invitation?
Making his excuses to the Slytherins (who by now didn't care where he kept disappearing off to), he joined Harry in the Entrance Hall and the two of them made their way up to the seventh floor through the empty castle, chatting idly about the latest gossip (it was Draco's new goal to get Harry up-to-date on school news; one day he'd even teach Harry the names of everybody in their year), until they came across an unexpected obstruction.
"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, Snape at his side looking grim. "I'd like a word with you in my office. Immediately."
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