See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Seven

It was now two months since they'd returned to Hogwarts for their second year. Draco's political manoeuvrings were slowly starting to pay off in respect and deference from most of the third years and below, although sometimes Harry wondered if it was because of Draco's political manoeuvrings so much as Greg and Vince' intimidating bulks always being with him.

Harry didn't consider for a moment that his own presence might have any influence, but Draco knew it to be so. Draco was a genteel aristocrat who knew how to manipulate. Harry radiated power, and even at just twelve years old he could be a little intimidating, without ever meaning to be. Not that it was obvious. It was, in fact, quite subliminal. But to Draco, who was around him more than most, it was almost obvious. Draco thought that – come fifth or sixth year – Harry was going to be a force to reckon with. The thought created a pleasant tension in him.

Harry's lessons were going on apace, but with the addition of the private art and music lessons, and dance lessons from Madame Trentakoff with Draco once a week, he had even less free time than before. Fortunately Narcissa had been able to schedule those lessons to fill the so-called 'free' time in Harry's school timetable instead of taking up his evening hours, which were needed for his homework and study time with Draco. Even so Harry found time, sometimes with Draco's aid, to socialize and go flying.

It was during one of Harry and Draco's flying sessions that they were spotted, and watched, by their head of house. That evening Marcus Flint told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team Thursday evening. The next day Snape was quite short with most of the members of his house, even going so far as to take House points when it was warranted. He was quite wroth that none of them had reported the two second year's flying skills to him.

After their tryouts, Harry wound up being their new Seeker, and Draco took over one of the Chaser postions. It was all Harry could do to keep his friend's swelled head under control – no mean feat, since he was also trying to keep his own pride under control as well.

Watching the two boys, one of whom he was supposed to guard, Vince shook his head. He and Greg had watched the relationship between Draco and Harry developing, and although the pair were pretty good about putting up silencing spells nights, they had forgotten, a time or two. But he and Greg had a pretty good thing going, and weren't about to spoil it by tattling the tale to anyone else. That didn't mean that he and Greg didn't enjoy gossiping about it between themselves, though.

One evening Draco overheard Vince and Greg quietly sniggering together in their shared room. After creeping closer and listening for a couple of minutes, he'd figured out that the topic of conversation was he and Harry, and how passionate they'd been the night before. Angry panic filled him. Nobody could find out! He – they – he and Harry – would become the object of lurid gossip and rumours. And what if his father found out?

He hexed both of his bodyguards with stinging curses, then began threatening them with everything he could think of, should the two open their fat gobs on the subject, not hearing the large boys' protests.

It was this scene that Harry walked in on just a minute later. Instead of immediately jumping in to calm the blond, Harry listened for a while to try to find out what was going on. All he could figure out was that Crabbe and Goyle had found out something that might be damaging to Draco, and Draco was trying to terrorize them into keeping quiet about it. Insofar as he knew, however, there was only one thing that might have his friend in such a panic.

"Draco!" Harry yelled.

Draco's angry eyes darted around and landed on Harry. "They know!" he exclaimed.

"What do they know?" Harry asked, trying to confirm his guess.

Draco looked at him, unable to bring himself to say it in front of his bodyguards. But his eyes spoke volumes, and Harry nodded before turning to the other boys.

"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked them.

It was almost comical to watch Vincent and Gregory's vehement denials. If it hadn't been potentially so personally disastrous a situation, Harry might have laughed. As it was, he was unmoved.

"So what's the problem?" Harry asked Draco.

Draco's strained whisper was only barely audible. "If they tell...."

Harry looked at the two large boys. Draco had a point. That could cause all sorts of complications, including the possiblity that he could lose his newly-found home with the Malfoys. He wished he knew a memory charm, but so far none had been taught him.

"We wouldn't," Vincent avowed, his eyes darting from Harry to Draco and back. "Your father," he continued, now speaking to Draco, and then he trailed off, with a shrug. Everyone knew that it was unhealthy to cross Lucius Malfoy. And although he'd been less than impressed with 'the new lad' when Harry had first shown up, he and Greg had recently noticed something 'a bit off' about Harry, and had become just a bit more wary of him as well.

You could almost see the tension draining from Harry – and it was only at that point that one realized that Harry had been less than completely calm and unconcerned.

Draco was torn. On the one hand he had been shown up to have over-reacted, and his pride was bruised. On the other.... No, his pride was definitely hurt. But Harry had been rather masterful, and it seemed there was no danger after all.

That wasn't going to keep Draco from having a snit, though.

That night Draco was feeling rather badly about taking out his embarrassment on Harry. It was a very unusual feeling for him. He wasn't used to feeling guilt. It was even worse because Harry had made a point of inviting Draco to sleep the night with him. It had taken the blond a while to get to sleep that night.

He and Harry rarely bothered with night clothes any longer – at least not when they slept together. Not only did their combined body heat keep them quite warm enough without pyjamas, but the 'tingle' they felt whenever they touched seemed to be stronger, the more skin they had in contact.

"Oh, Draco; that feels so good," Harry moaned, after getting over his shock. He had woken up to the feeling of something warm and wet surrounding his 'woodie', and making him feel really good. Upon investigation he saw a blond head of hair hovering closely over his crotch and made the logical deduction; not that he'd been feeling all that clear-headed by then.

Draco had finally given in to an urge he'd been feeling for weeks now. He didn't know what came over him to do it, except that Harry's erection held an attraction for him, and he'd been growing increasingly curious what it would taste like. Yes, his guilt of the night before may have had something to do with it, but not much. And this morning there it was, and he hadn't the will to resist anymore. It wasn't anywhere near to being a mouthful, but it felt so satisfying to suck on it.

After bringing Harry to a shuddering climax (still dry), Draco waited with a bit of trepidation for Harry's reaction. What they'd done up until this point was something many boys in boarding schools did with each other, most often minus the kissing, but what he'd just done to Harry pushed the limits of what was acceptable. So he was pleasantly surprised, although he told himself he shouldn't have been, when Harry pulled him close and started kissing him.

"Does this mean you want us to be boyfriends?" Harry eventually asked, after working out in his own mind how he felt about it.

Actually Draco hadn't thought that far, but as he pondered the question he realised that yes, that might be exactly what he wanted. Harry's reaction proved that he wasn't against the idea, so, "If you do," Draco cautiously admitted.

"Done," Harry stated.

Draco snuggled into the dark-haired boy, trying to get even closer, blushing and self-conscious, but with a rather dreamy smile gracing his face.

"Mew," Sasha complained. She'd waited quite patiently while the two had their fun, but she was tired of being ignored.

"Oh, you want some attention too, do you?" Draco said happily, reaching for the dirl-cat. He lifted her from her position near the end of the bed to lie between he and Harry, leaving as little room as possible between he and his newly-declared boyfriend. Contrarily, Sasha decided she didn't like the close quarters and climbed out of the tight space, settling in on Draco's hip, instead.

Harry was just as happy she'd moved, as now he could get closer to Draco again.

The alarm spell sounded only moments later, and both boys sighed.

"Time to get up," Draco said sadly.

"Only for you, you vain thing," Harry teased. "I have another half-hour."

Draco pouted. "You're not going to shower with me?"

Harry considered, weighing the benefits of having Draco wash his back versus lying abed awhile longer. The latter sounded far more tempting, but Draco had woken him in a particularly nice way.... "Okay," Harry moaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching for his pyjama bottoms.

Since Sasha had just settled in, she wasn't particularly happy about being disturbed. But Draco had taken the time to make sure she understood about school, and he and Harry having to go to classes to learn. She thought it was boring and silly, but she understood.

"And I'm not vain!" Draco added. "Perfection intimidates," he said primly.

"Keep telling yourself that," Harry laughed, as he pulled on a dressing robe and followed Draco to the showers.

Draco had satisfied his curiosity with that morning's sexual adventure, and although it had been somewhat nice, it would be awhile before he repeated the deed, or Harry returned the favour. They happily satisfied themselves with each other with kissing, their hands, and frottage.

"Oy, Malfoy!" a voice called out, halting Harry and Draco's progress towards the Great Hall, and breakfast.

Harry sighed. "Weasel?"

"Weasel," Draco confirmed.

Almost as one, they turned to face the redhead.

"This doesn't concern you, Potter," Ron Weasley said snottily, with a half-way sneer.

"Really, Weasley," Draco said in a bored tone. "And you have the temerity to call yourself a pureblood? Your manners are sorely lacking. Are you a disappointment to your mother, or are all Weasleys so boorish?"

Harry had wanted to retort to the snotty Gryffindor, but Draco had beat him to it, and cut him off. Now he couldn't do so without treading on Draco's proverbial toes, so he merely stood there, glaring coldly at the redheaded boy.

The young Weasley hadn't come alone, or unarmed. Gryffindor or no, he wasn't so brave as to go up against his self-appointed enemies on his own. Harry recognized the Irish boy from first year, although he was looking quite reluctant to be there. Both boys had their wands in hand.

"Go bugger yourself!" Ron retorted, his fist gripping his wand tighter.

Draco raised one aristocratic eyebrow. "That would be an interesting feat, wouldn't it?" he said, making himself sound faintly intrigued.

Harry had trouble keeping a straight face, and almost snickered at Draco's come-back. But despite his enjoyment of Draco's banter, he kept a close eye on the Gryffindors.

He could see that Draco's indolent posture was a sham as well. His friend was poised to dodge a hex, and he'd moved in such a way as to disguise the retrieval of his own wand from his robes. Harry probably didn't need his, but he wasn't so confident of his wandless abilities as to try to do without it in a confrontation, so he tried to emulate his friend. He wanted to keep his abilities with wandless magic hidden as long as possible – not that they were totally reliable, yet.

"But physical impossibilities aside, Weasley, what is your purpose in accosting me in the corridor?" Draco continued.

Ron's face was quite red now, and it seemed as though he'd forgotten his original purpose, unless it had been to harass the blond. "Now!" he shouted, raising his wand. Seamus hesitated, then started to raise his own wand.

But that's as far as they got. Harry's 'Impedimenta' and Draco's Jelly-Legs Curse sounded a split second before the Gryffindors' hexes could be cast. Ron's curse went wild, and Seamus aborted his own efforts before they were properly begun.

Sasha appeared out of thin air just before Ron hit the wall, and was knocked out as his head hit unyielding stone. She stood there hissing and spitting at an untouched Seamus. Harry and Draco had both targeted Ron.

Seamus, having aborted his spell before it could be cast, stared at the baby dirl-cat and then started laughing. "A . . . a kitten?" he exclaimed.

"Even a young dirl-cat isn't something to laugh at," an affronted Draco replied.

Seamus stopped laughing, but his amusement hadn't dissipated altogether. "What's a dirl-cat?" he inquired. Seamus was a half-blood and his mother, in deference to her Muggle husband, had only taught Seamus the essentials of wizarding life.

"A teleporting bundle of furry razors," Harry replied succinctly, "and she's bonded to Draco."

"It's magical?"

Harry gave the Gryffindor a look. "No. All house cats are like that," he replied with light sarcasm.

"I was just asking," Seamus muttered, his cheeks tinting. Then he looked up at the Slytherin boys. "I'm sorry about this; only Ron can be a bit overwhelming."

Harry and Draco exchanged looks, then looked at the unconscious redhead. "You'd best take him to Pomfrey," Harry suggested, jerking his head at Weasley.

"Very clumsy of him, tripping on the stairs like that," Draco added.

Seamus looked at the blond a bit queerly, then his expression cleared as he caught on. "I suspect that Peeves making that loud noise might have startled him and caused him to have a misstep," he agreed.

"And when he wakes up and tells his story?" Harry inquired of them both.

"He often tells us his revenge plans and dreams," Seamus replied after some hesitation. "That knock on his head must have set off a particularly vivid one."

Harry and Draco both snickered. "You're not half bad, Finnigan," Harry said through his snickering. "I think we'll let you go, for this."

Seamus looked a bit confused, but let it pass. He was off the hook, anyway.

Draco looked at Harry as though he wanted to argue the point, but then shrugged and let it slide. The Irish boy hadn't, after all, actually done anything. He'd just been there. Draco was a little disappointed, however. He'd had a particularly clever prank planned. Maybe they could use it on Weasley, instead.

Harry handed Ron's wand to the Irish boy, cast a weightless charm on the redhead, and sent the two on their way.

After soothing the apologetic dirl-cat, who had been napping after having had her own breakfast and therefore wasn't alert enough to sense the danger to her master in time to be there before anything happened, Draco turned to his boyfriend. "Getting soft, Harry? They attacked us."

"No sense in making unnecessary enemies, Draco," Harry replied. "Come on; it's too late for breakfast, now. Let's go to class."

"The Weasel's mine, next time I see him," Draco promised darkly.

Harry nodded. "He's still fair game," he conceded.

Draco told Harry of the plan he had. Harry added his own suggestions to make the redhead nervous.

For the rest of the day, whenever they saw the most hot-headed of the Weasleys, Harry and Draco, as planned, smiled sweetly at the boy. By the end of the day you could almost see Ron Weasley's nerves twanging, he was so paranoid. But revenge is a dish best served cold, and the denouement would wait a few days.

"So when were you going to ask me to the Halloween Ball, Drakie?" Pansy inquired in a sickeningly-sweet coy manner that evening after classes, as she plopped herself down on the arm of the stuffed leather chair Draco was sitting in. Once there she leant into the blond, almost draping herself over him

Harry stiffened, his face becoming even more stone-like than was now his wont when they were in public. But he wasn't going to say or do anything unless it became necessary. His and Draco's tentative relationship as boyfriends wasn't exactly public knowledge, and they wanted to keep it that way. They weren't yet powerful enough either magically or politically to be free of social repurcussions should their relationship become known. And Draco was capable of taking care of himself. But if Parkinson became too much of a problem....

Draco looked coldly at the girl. "When did you become delusional, Parkinson?" he asked, his voice colder and harder than any twelve-year-old's should be. "Because I don't recall our ever being more than civil with each other. In the first place, I don't even allow Harry to mangle my name as you just did, and he's my best friend. Secondly, your familiarity is far from welcome."

Pansy just giggled. "You're so funny, Drakie," she simpered. "I know you like me."

Draco brusquely pushed her off himself and onto the floor, then stood and glared down at her. "Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked, ice dripping from every word.

Doubt finally entered Pansy's mind, and she looked over at Theodore, confused. The triumphant, amused smirk on the skinny boy's face told the tale and she flushed, now totally humiliated.

Harry tried to stifle his laughter – although several others within earshot didn't bother to hold it back – but his muffled 'coughing' didn't fool anyone.

Pansy looked at Theodore in shock, and then her face slowly suffused with anger. She had spent hours flirting with, and simpering at Draco – actions that she considered investments towards eventually snagging a rich, influential husband. If the blond's expression was anything to go by, she had now blown any chance she might ever have had with him – and she wasn't going to let her humiliation go unpunished. She pulled her wand from her robes and cast "Eat Slugs!" at the weedy-looking boy who had set her up for this humiliation.

Not that she was satisfied with the one hex. Over the next week Theodore seemed to become very accident prone as Pansy hit him with a tripping jinx or other hex whenever it might cause him harm or embarrassment. Theodore wasn't one to take such treatment lying down, however – code of the gentleman or not – and the two paid quite a few visits to Madam Pomfrey.

Finally Harry decided enough was enough, and for the sake of House unity took Pansy, as the original hurt party, aside.

"Look, Parkinson, you're not a bad sort, but you do have a way of coming on a bit strong," Harry began tentatively. He hadn't a clue how to talk to girls, so he was a bit nervous.

Pansy looked at the dark-haired boy curiously. "I need to be more subtle?" she asked, a predatory gleam coming into her eyes.

Warning bells started ringing in Harry's mind. "Ahm...."

"Do you like me?"

Now the alarums were pealing madly. "You'd make a good friend, I think," he said, barely keeping a full-blown panic at bay.

"Oh." Pansy looked a bit let down, and her eyes dropped. "D'you think I might still have a chance with Draco?" she asked, again meeting his eyes.

Harry grit his teeth, his case of nerves now forgotten. "Not in that way, I wouldn't think," he said, trying hard to sound neutral.

"Does he talk about me?" Pansy asked, persisting.

"Only of how your attentions annoy him," Harry replied bluntly.

"I . . . I thought he was just being shy," she confessed in a bewildered fashion.

"Draco? Not much, he isn't," Harry denied.

A tear appeared in Pansy's eye. "I see," she said softly.

The girl's obvious distress softened Harry's heart. "Look, Parkinson—"

"Call me Pansy," the girl said softly, interrupting.

"Why?" Harry asked warily, again on his guard.

"I think you might make a good friend, too."

"Um . . . thank you," Harry said, trying not to sound nervous. "Anyway—"

"You don't have to try to make me feel better, Harry," she said, taking the liberty of using his given name, even though he hadn't given her leave, "but thank you." With that she turned and made for the girl's dorm.

"Park— Pansy!" Harry called after her. When she turned around, a sad look of curiousity on her face, he said, "I originally meant to ask you to call off your feud with Nott. He only did it because you were so obvious, I think. Perhaps he's jealous?"

Pansy screwed her face up in distaste at the thought, but nodded. "Maybe," she said. "I'll consider calling a truce, anyway." And then she disappeared into the corridor to the girl's dorms.

Harry shook his head at her retreating back. She really aughtn't make that face; it only reinforced her unfortunate resemblance to that breed of dog known as a pug.

A very self-satisfied Harry lolled on his bed. "I think I've solved your Parkinson problem for you," he said to Draco, who was reading whilst sprawled on his own bed.

"Oh?"

"Quite. I took Parkinson aside to try to nip her feud with Nott in the bud. She actually thought I was trying to chat her up!"

Draco sniggered at him, but there was a tiny gnawing in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

Harry wrinkled his nose at his boyfriend in response, then continued his tale. "Anyway, she tried to pump me for information on getting close to you. I told her you were only annoyed by her."

"Too right!" Draco interjected.

"But I finally got her to at least think about calling off her vendetta."

"And?"

"And what?" Harry asked, knowing full well what Draco was driving at. Draco's pillow hit him with all the force of Draco's arm.

"Is she going to give it a rest, then?"

"I just told you she said she's considering it," Harry replied with asperity, while being deliberately obtuse.

Draco wasn't fooled, and launched himself at Harry, tickling, wrestling, and pinching him. "Is . . . she . . . going . . . to stop . . . plaguing . . . me?" he asked his now laughing, writhing boyfriend.

"YES!" Harry yelled through his laughter.

Draco stopped his attack and dropped down next to Harry, panting, but satisfied, and feeling triumphant. It didn't last long.

As Harry started to get his breath back, he added, "I can't promise that, really. She didn't say so in so many words, but she seemed discouraged enough to quit."

Draco groaned, rolled over, and hid his head in Harry's shoulder.