Summer 7:   Part A

Harry had spent the entire year trying to ignore Malfoy.  He’d had plenty of other things to think about without that stupid prat popping around every other corner, sneering at him, teasing him, or worse, kissing him, because as much as Harry may have tried to ignore Malfoy, Malfoy seemed determined not to ignore Harry

At first, it had been a letter every few days, which Harry had ignored, as was his plan.  When the letters had begun coming every morning, he had made a show of either tearing them up or incinerating them.  He may have fallen for all that nonsense the year before and even during the summer when it had almost seemed that Draco cared, at least a little, but not this time.  He would not be made a fool of a second time.

Harry had been too busy dealing with Umbridge and lessons with Snape to really pay attention to Draco’s moods, so he really didn’t see it coming until it slammed into him.  'It' being a very temperamental Malfoy and ‘slammed into’ meaning he was yanked into a broom cupboard as he was walking down an empty corridor.

“Potter, you stupid twat, why aren’t you responding to my letters?”

“Because I’m burning them.”

“I noticed that, it’s not what I meant and you know that.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Draco had practically flown at him and they’d grappled for a while before it became more of an attempt to just hold the other one down, as apposed to actually hurting him and then, when Harry had finally managed to pin Malfoy (not a small feat either, considering he was still a good bit smaller), instead of pummelling him he had found himself kissing Draco and then there had been a lot of groping and as much as Harry would like to have said he hadn’t enjoyed it, he had.  He really had.

So, when Draco sent him the next letter, he had been hard pressed to incinerate it.  He had to remind himself what it had felt like to be so utterly used by someone.  Of course, it felt kind of odd saying he’d been used when Draco had been the one doing things to him and hadn’t asked for anything in return.  For all their years knowing each other, Draco had always been a selfish, insecure little prick…

“Malfoy’s staring at you again.”

Harry turned sharply to Hermione, who nudged her head in the direction of the Slytherin table before going back to eating her breakfast.  Harry looked over, a sense of dread building in his stomach.   Sure enough, Draco was openly staring at him from across the Great Hall, his eyes slit and his mouth set.  It was a look that practically screamed ‘I dare you’.

The dread turned into defiance and, looking down at the letter, Harry had made up his mind.  Holding the letter up just a little higher, he’d cast Incendio and watched it wither and disintegrate in his fingers. Draco’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock.  After several seconds, however, he sneered and went back to eating, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry had hoped that would be the end of it, that Draco would finally be so pissed at him that he’d leave him the bloody hell alone.  Not that that explained the nearly painful tightness in his chest whenever he saw Draco in class.

For nearly two weeks there had been no word from the Slytherin and then Umbridge had formed her little patrolling party and put Draco at the head of it and Harry had known it was going to be utter hell before it even began.  He'd even almost regretted burning the letter.  After over a hundred needless point deductions for offences that ranged from bumping into people in the hall, to not eating enough breakfast, Harry had snapped.

He’d sent Draco a letter, using one of the school owls, because he didn’t doubt for a second that Ron would recognise Hedwig.  Draco had read it and looked at Harry across the hall, nodding once before shoving the note in his pocket and getting up, excusing himself to Pansy, who was trying to drape herself all over him.  Harry had followed five minutes later, ignoring Hermione’s knowing wink.  She was far too observant.

Draco had been waiting in the broom cupboard, his arms crossed over his chest.  “Well?”

Harry poked a finger at Draco and the other boy dropped his defensive stance, taken off guard.   “You need to stop staring.  Hermione’s noticed and I don’t fancy giving her any other ammunition.”

“Ammunition?  What’s that? And I’ll have you know, I am very discreet.”

“So discreet the whole bloody school’s noticed by now.   If you don’t stop paying me attention, people are going to wonder.”

Draco smirked, “Wonder what?  All I’m doing is glaring at you and deducting points like I usually would if I didn’t…”

He’d trailed off and Harry had completely forgotten that the pointless point-deductions were the reason they were there.  “If you didn’t what?”

Draco started to bite his lip and stopped himself, “Doesn’t matter.  It’s just to keep up appearances though and, besides, you really pissed me off, burning my letters like that.”

Harry refrained from saying that Draco had pissed him off by turning down his offer, because it seemed a bit silly with the way Draco was acting now, leaning against the wall, nervously rubbing his finger tips together and constantly shifting from one foot to the other.  Why did Malfoy have to be just as complicated as Cho?  Why couldn’t it be easier being gay?

“I burned your letters because you were being a right twat just before I left.  Besides, I’m trying to be heterosexual for the year, thank you, and I can hardly do that when you keep dragging me places to snog.”

Draco chuckled, “You, heterosexual?  You’ve got to be joking”

Harry raised his eyebrow, “Cauldron calling the pot black?”

Draco stopped chuckling and went a little pale.  Something clicked in Harry’s brain and now that he saw it he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before.  Draco straightened, “Hardly.  Look, I wanted to give you something so… if I send you a package tomorrow, can I be assured you won’t burn it?”

After several seconds' hesitation, Harry finally nodded his head and Draco stood a little straighter, more confident.  “Good.  Now, we’ve got twenty minutes before we have to be in class, care for a snog?”

For someone who was insecure in his homosexuality, Draco didn’t have any qualms about blatantly asking another boy to kiss him.  Harry shook his head, “No, I’ve got to get back to breakfast before Hermione starts to take notes on the amount of time I’m missing.”

“The mu… I mean, Granger’s keeping tabs on you?”

“Not yet, but if I start going missing she will.  She’s just concerned about me.”

“She’s not the only one.”  Draco’s face went bright red as he realised what he’d said.  Harry was too stunned by the inadvertent revelation to say anything until Draco had already turned to the door.  “See you around.”

The next morning when the brown owl swooped down in front of him and he took the package from it without so much as a scowl, Hermione had been right beside him with a smirk.   “Lover’s tiff over then?”

He’d turned sharply to his other side, but Ron had been too busy talking to Dean to pay attention to what she’d said.  Deciding to ignore Hermione for the moment, he looked the flat, rectangular package over, examining it carefully to try and determine what it was.

Finally giving up, he’d undone the strings and opened it.   Hermione had leaned over him and he reached in and pulled out what felt like a magazine, then she had sprayed Pumkpin juice all over it, as well as Harry, herself, and the two people sitting across from them.  Harry had absolutely frozen and if she hadn’t grabbed the package and shoved the contents back in the envelope, he would have stayed like that for some time.  Gay porn.  Draco had sent him gay porn, at breakfast, and he hadn’t even warned him.

Hermione was still coughing, holding the soggy letter in her hand.   Harry looked at her and she shrugged at his outraged face, “Tiff back on, then, is it?”

It had taken days for Ron to stop asking what had been in the package, and he probably wouldn’t have if Hermione hadn’t dragged him off by his ear and lecture him on badgering people needlessly.  Not that she was one to talk, when every five minutes they had alone she was asking Harry whether he’d talked to Malfoy yet about his little present.  Problem was, Harry had, but he couldn’t tell Hermione that because he wasn’t sure how to explain that he had gone into the now eerily familiar cupboard to shout at Malfoy and ten minutes later ended up leaning against a shelf with his trousers around his ankles and Malfoy on his knees in front of him.

After the Cho incident, when Harry had finally realised that girls just didn’t do it for him - not at all, not even in the slightest – he’d thought it might be best to come clean with Ron.  Besides, he couldn’t stand any more disapproving looks from Hermione.  He’d been lying awake on his bed, looking at the porn magazine that Draco had given him and every time he turned the page, he saw the etched words in his hand ‘I will not tell lies’.

It was one thing to be called a liar when he wasn’t, it was another to be one.  With a deep breath, he’d gotten out of his bed and snuck into Ron’s, pulling the curtains open.   “Ron, wake up.”

Ron had mumbled something and Harry cast a silencing charm around the bed before hitting his friend with a water charm and watching him splutter awake in his now wet bed.  “Bloody hell, Harry!”

Harry had hushed him.  He needed to get this out before he lost his nerve.  “Shut it Ron, I’ve something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Is it another vision?  Who is it this time?  Bill?  My mum?”

“No, not like that.”  Harry rang his hands.  Now that he thought about it, it did feel a bit silly having woken someone up in the middle of the night for something this insignificant.  “Look, Ron… I’m gay.”

Ron stared at him blankly, “That’s it?  You’re gay?”

“Yes.”  Harry looked down at his hand.  “No.  I mean… I’m gay and… that is to say I…” Bloody hell, he couldn’t say it.  Every time he started he could just see Ron’s outraged face and he didn’t think he could handle his best friend hating him on top of everything else that was going on.

“Is this about Malfoy?”  Harry stopped breathing.  “Because Hermione may think I’m an idiot, but I’d expect you to know better.  You are my best friend, I’d be a bit daft not to notice you two staring at each other all the time.”

Harry managed to pull in breath, “What?!  But, last year, you said…”

“I was having you on,” Ron interrupted.  “If you can’t be arsed to tell your best friend when you’ve decided to cavort with the enemy you deserve it.”

Harry looked down to hide his blush and his gaze landed on the words on his hand again.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Naw, I would have been upset anyway.  I was in denial for a good, long time.  Especially right after the Tournament, when Malfoy… well, you know.  It was pretty obvious he was panicked about it and that was kind of, I dunno, awkward, thinking that maybe he really did like you and wasn’t just trying to get close to you for information or to turn you over to his father.  Besides, he’d have done it before then, wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah.”  Harry nodded, the blush still lightly tinting his cheeks.  “Thanks, Ron.”

Ron shrugged, “No problem, mate, but next time just tell me instead of hiding gay porn mags behind my back?”

With an anguished cry, he buried his head in the blankets, but, embarrassed or not, he was glad Ron knew and he promised himself that he’d never keep anything from his friends again, especially not Ron.

They’d spent the rest of the night talking and Harry had gotten detention for falling asleep in Potion’s the next morning, but it was worth it.  Ron didn’t like that he was ‘seeing’ Malfoy (because he refused to call it dating, as dating implied far more than secret snog sessions in broom cupboards), he didn’t think that Malfoy was good for Harry, he didn’t like the way Malfoy was always teasing him and he didn’t believe that it was just for show.  In the end, however, he had relented that it was Harry’s choice and he would stand by him no matter what, even if that meant knowing his best friend and his worst enemy were sneaking off to swap tongue every few days.

When Dumbledore’s Army had gone well, Harry had relented in telling Draco, because it was either that or listen to him whine on and on about how Harry didn’t trust him, even if the truth was that Harry wasn’t sure yet that he did.  Where Harry drew the line, however, was in allowing Draco to be part of it.  If that were going to work, they would have to come out, at least as friends, and Harry didn’t want to do that.

“But, Harry…

“No, absolutely not.  Right now you’re relatively safe.  You aren’t old enough for Voldemort to bother with and you aren’t tied to one of his enemies.  I’m… you aren’t going to risk it.  It’s too dangerous to even be my friend right now…”

“Harry…”

“…and what about you’re father?”

Draco had paled and the conversation was over.  After that, Draco had not brought the subject up again, though he did occasionally make snide remarks about how the meetings were going.  It had seemed a pleasant, if tense sort of compromise, but Harry would take what he could get, especially with the visions getting worse.

The visions, of course, were something else entirely and something that Harry wished he didn’t have to deal with.  He’d take Umbridge every year if he could just get rid of the stupid visions, especially when he’d had one in front of Draco and had ended up on the floor on the broom cupboard, rocking back and forth, intermittently crying and laughing.

Then, there had been the disastrous events at the end of the year.   Harry had been caught by Umbridge and Draco had stood there, trying to look pleased by it, though Harry noted that when no one was looking, the blond tensed and his eyes hardened, focusing only on Harry.  Draco had done what he had to, though, and Harry was grateful for that.  He’d played the part of the prat and he hadn’t given himself away; he hadn’t done anything stupid that would put his life in danger.  Not at first, anyway.

After Harry and Hermione had managed to lure Umbridge out of the room, Ron had been struck dumb by Draco looking him dead in the eye and nodding.  Nothing showy, just a terse little go-with-it kind of nod, then he’d made a show of grabbing Ginny by the hair and leaned over her, whispering something in her ear with a lewd grin.  Ron had watched in shock as Ginny got a foot under her and kicked him in the stomach.  He’d dropped their wands and she’d picked up hers, using it to quickly untie Ron before shoving the others in the right direction and casting curses at the remaining Slytherins while they got untied and followed her out the door.

They’d made it out the front door when Draco had come up behind them, panting and holding his stomach.  He’d glared at Ginny, “You didn’t have to kick me so hard.”

She shrugged, “You didn’t have to pull my hair.”

Ron had set out for the forest and Neville and Luna had exchanged looks with Ginny when Draco followed without saying anything else.  Apparently, Ron had decided that if Harry wanted anyone else to know about his illicit affair with Draco Malfoy, he could bloody well tell them himself.

Harry had been utterly shocked when he ran into his friends, Draco among them.  It had taken him nearly a full minute to get any words out, “What are you doing here?!”

Ginny, Luna and Neville had backed up, expected a duel or perhaps even a fistfight when Harry had started to march forward at the other boy.  Draco, however, wasn’t backing down.  “Saving your arse.”  A moment later, Draco thrust Harry’s wand into his hand and Harry had stared at it blankly before the anger had set back in.

“You idiot!  What were you thinking?  Why couldn’t you have just slipped it to one of them instead of exposing yourself?”

“I did not expose myself, Harry, I am a Slytherin, I know what I am doing.  The others haven’t a clue that I still had your wand, let alone that I was bringing it to you.”

Harry bit his lip and the anger tempered itself with the pain and realisation that not everything was lost.  “Fine, but go back now, say you couldn’t find us, say anything, just…”

“No.”  Draco hadn’t even bothered to look cowed at the glare Harry sent him.  “I’m coming with you.  You’ll not go gallivanting off to the Ministry without any kind of protection.”

As quickly as the anger had abated, it was back.  “You’re going back to the castle and you are going to try and find Snape and make sure he’s getting the rest of the Order together.  We’ll need backup and I don’t trust him.”

‘I do trust you’ hung unspoken between them and the next thing Harry knew he was being thoroughly snogged by Draco, hands holding his head in place and a tongue pressing urgently into his mouth.  When Draco pulled away, Harry was absolutely breathless.  “You’ll watch out then.”  He’d looked up at Ron and Hermione, who were standing awkwardly next to their shell-shocked friends.  “If anything happens to him, you answer to me.”

He’d turned around and left, practically running to the castle while Harry had turned to face his ‘army,’ face flushed and mouth slightly swollen.  “Okay, then, to the Ministry.”

Ginny had opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t manage to get out more than a squeak before Harry, Hermione and Ron all started to hash out how they were going to get there, entirely ignoring the other three until they joined in.  No one mentioned it after that, probably because there was too much going on without taking the time to talk about Harry’s quite obvious relations with Draco Malfoy and then afterwards…  Well, afterward Harry hadn’t wanted to talk about anything to anyone.

He was beginning to think that it wasn’t safe for anyone to be around him.  He couldn’t help it with Ron and Hermione, they’d always been his friends and even if he ditched them now, they would still be in danger, the same was true for Neville, Luna and Ginny, the Death Eaters had seen them at the Ministry, but he could help it with Draco, especially now that Lucius was in Azkaban.  Draco wouldn’t have the pressure of his father telling him what to do.  Maybe if he could lie low and stay off of everyone’s radar, he’d be safe, but that wasn’t going to happen if people found out that he and Harry were even remotely friendly.

Harry rolled over and closed his eyes. Of course, there was always the possibility that Draco would hate Harry for putting his father in Azkaban, but for some reason that thought alone was too painful for Harry to even think about.