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Pansy quickly and carefully as she could at her fast pace shoved her letter into an envelope and gave it to her owl, Ariadne. Ariadne took the envelope in her beak and flew off. Pansy hoped it would make it to Ginny before she left the house, but she figured they had enough time so she wasn't overly worried.

Pansy spent the better part of her morning waiting for Ariadne to return and daydreaming about Ginny until she realized she only had an hour before she would be boarding the Hogwarts Express. That didn't give her very long to get dressed and have breakfast before she had to leave.

She had returned home last night after spending her birthday at the Burrow. She had packed all her stuff that night, and now that she could use magic it didn't even take very long. She rushed to get ready, combing through her hair which only took about two seconds. Her makeup was what she had to hurry with.

She already had her outfit picked out, something comfortable to wear on the train but still cute. She'd have to change into dress robes for dinner anyway, which was annoying but they had to be proper and that. She wore a black cardigan over her white top and a green plaid skirt. She debated wearing a skirt but she usually did during the train ride. She tugged her long black socks over her legs and slipped on her flats, sitting down to buckle the straps.

As she headed down the hall, she put on her pearl earrings. She loved pearls. If she had to guess she would say most of her jewelry, at least her favorites, featured pearls. She was still doing her makeup when she went downstairs. Her mother hated when she did that, but she usually had a few minutes to sit around before she was called to breakfast anyway. She used that time to finish her makeup.

For breakfast, they had apple waffles, cinnamon rolls, sausages, eggs, and grapefruit, but she hardly had an appetite. She just wanted to get to the train station to see her friends. The rest of them, besides Hermione, were still at the Burrow.

Hermione went home to see her parents and bid them goodbye as well as collect anything she may need for the school year. A few days ago, they’d all been out shopping together in Diagon Alley to buy new school supplies, and Hermione had returned home with her parents. She visited the Burrow for Pansy's birthday.

***

Hermione was sitting at her desk, reading while her mum did her hair. Her mum still helped her with her hair whenever she had time in the morning to do so. She had bought Hermione some new products she wanted to try. The conditioner she was currently applying smelled like honey and sugar maple.

Her mum took care of Hermione’s hair well, but that didn't stop it from becoming a frizzy, uncontrollable mess. Maybe when they got on the train Pansy could braid it for her.

“Do you want me to tie it back, baby?”

“It’s fine, mum.”

“Alright. Put the book down and get dressed, please. Your dad should have breakfast ready by the time you've finished.”

“Once I'm done with this page,” Hermione pleaded.

Her mum gave her a dubious look. “Alright, but that page better not turn into a chapter.”

“It won't,” Hermione swore with a giggle. That did tend to happen.

But now, Hermione did put the book down, slipping the photostrip of her, Ron, and Harry that she used as a bookmark in between the pages and tucking it safely inside her bag. She pulled on her jeans and her cozy blue sweater and laced up her trainers. She added a dainty heart-shaped necklace that Ron had gifted her for her birthday last September.

She joined her parents at the breakfast table, her dad placing a bowl of warm apple cinnamon oatmeal in front of her. After breakfast, they'd head to Kings Cross where she would meet her friends.

At this time, Ron, Harry, Draco, and Ginny were still running around the house getting ready. Ron was brushing his teeth while Ginny tried to work around him to do her hair. Ron didn't understand why since all she ever did was end up putting it in a messy braid. Today she didn't do anything too special but she brushed it neatly and let it cascade over her shoulders. It looked very soft, and Ron wanted to touch it but didn't because he didn't want to be yelled at.

Ginny left the bathroom to find Draco. Of all of them she knew he was the only person who would tell her honestly how she looked. Ron would tell her she looked stupid no matter what, the same way her mum would tell her she looked beautiful no matter what. She suspected Harry genuinely thought she always looked nice.

Draco was doing Harry’s hair, having just washed it. They would have done it the night before, but both of them had been too tired. Draco was already dressed in his tailored and probably quite expensive high-waisted trousers, the sleeves of his sweater pulled up to just below his elbows. Harry was still in his pajamas.

Ginny gave them a moment and took one to herself to examine her outfit. She was wearing a striped, fitted turtleneck top and her favorite pair of tight-fitting jeans. It was a specific outfit she thought she looked quite good in.

“Do I look pretty?” she asked Draco.

He looked up from where he was sticking colorful clips in Harry’s hair to hold his wild strands back as he styled. “Very. That outfit suits you well.”

“Thank you,” she said, pleased with the praise.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” he complimented.

“Thanks. Your hair looks so much fuller and luxurious.”

“Do I look so much fuller?” he asked with the same self-deprecating tone that he often used to make terrible jokes about himself.

“We don't like your jokes,” Harry said seriously.

Draco didn't seem to care much, giving Harry a rather tired look as he walked over to the nightstand, picking up his face cream. He unscrewed the lid, dipped his fingers in, and came back to Harry.

“You’re really mean, you know,” Harry said as Draco rubbed his hands over his face. “What are you putting on me?”

“You need to take care of your skin,” was his only answer. “And I'm not even being mean.”

“You are. First of all, you need to stop acting like you aren't literally skinny, and you need to stop acting as if people who aren't skinny are some horrendous creatures.”

“I know,” Draco sighed. “It’s just, I gained weight this summer and it's, I don't know if I…it’s weird.”

“That’s alright,” Ginny said. “It’s fine to feel strange about it. Are there any ways you feel good?”

“I’m actually a lot less tired and irritable than I used to be.” He sounded surprised at himself. “Physically I can tell I’m getting much better.”

“Then focus on that,” Ginny advised. “If you're having trouble with eating or your weight, remind yourself how much better you feel.”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Do you think you can start playing Quidditch again?” Harry asked, trying to somewhat lighten the mood.

“Maybe.”

The only physical activities Draco had participated in this summer were swimming and going on walks, and even though he felt physically stronger both of those activities required a lot less effort than Quidditch.

“We can go on runs together,” Harry suggested. “To build up that strength.”

“I’ll die if I run,” Draco whined.

“Alright, fine,” Harry huffed.

Ginny left the boys to bicker and went back to her own room, making sure she had everything she needed packed. She couldn't think of anything she’d missed as she closed her trunk. She spritzed herself with perfume, put it in her bag, then headed downstairs for breakfast, passing Ron in the hallway. He was half-dressed, pulling his blue sweater over his head as he headed back to his bedroom. Ginny waited til he had his sweater on so she could give him a look of pure irritation before she went on her way.

Ginny could smell the deliciously warm scent of pumpkin spice. It mingled nicely with the homely scent of the Burrow, the woodsy old house, the baked goods that seemed to linger, and the fruity smell of fresh oranges. Ginny went into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

Mrs. Weasley had made pumpkin eggy bread with cream cheese spread. There was a bowl of blackberries and raspberries on the table. Ginny helped herself to breakfast.

“There’s a letter for you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, going through the stack of letters in her hand. She dropped one on the table beside Ginny.

Ginny didn't bother reading the address, assuming it was from Bill, who she’d recently written to. She was pleasantly surprised to see it was actually from Pansy. She had spoken to Pansy yesterday, but she still felt a tingling excitement bubble inside her at the letter. Mrs. Weasley silently noted her daughter’s excitement and the way she blushed as she read.

Ron, Draco, and Harry came downstairs together, announcing their entrance with loud voices, nonsensical banter, and a bit of shoving.

“Can you stop being such nuisances?” Ginny said as Ron sat down across from her.

“Unfortunately not,” Ron replied. “It’s my nature.”

Harry sat beside Ginny, resting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands. It looked like he was wearing one of Ron’s flannels, judging by the length and how the sleeves covered his hands.

Mrs. Weasley stood behind him, rubbing his back. “Have something to eat, love,” she encouraged.

“My head hurts.”

“I’ll make you some ginger tea,” she offered and got right to work. “I’ve packed food for your trip, you can eat when you’re feeling better.”

Draco noticed Ginny’s letter that she was still focused on and the apparent fondness on her face. “What are you smiling at?” he asked, accusing.

“Nothing,” she stated defensively. “Leave me alone.”

Draco chuckled. He had a feeling he knew exactly what had Ginny smiling like that.

After breakfast, which they ate quickly since they were already running late, they left for Kings Cross. If they'd cut it this close with only four people in the house, Ginny wondered how her mum had ever managed to wrangle seven altogether. They made it with just enough time for Draco to greet his mother, who had come to see him before he left.

“Hello, mum,” he greeted her happily, accepting her hug. He glanced around quickly, scanning the area. “Dad didn’t come?”

“He had business to attend to, my dear,” she informed. She stroked Draco’s hair, looking at him with an expression softer than Ginny, Harry, and Ron had ever seen her wearing. They would bet she'd probably never smiled like that in her life, but she did now, talking to Draco.

“You look very well, Draco,” she said. “Were you alright? Did they take good care of you?”

“I’m fine, mum. I had a wonderful time.”

“Alright.” Narcissa cupped his face. “Well, I suppose you should be going. Have a good trip, my love. Write me often.”

“I will.” Draco kissed her cheek and rejoined the others, rushing onto the train.

Harry and Ginny hugged goodbye before they parted so Ginny could join her friends. They squeezed each other tight like they were parting for the whole school year rather than a day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” she said. “At lunch?”

“Yeah.” He reached into his bag to pull out a small paper one. “Here, take this.” It was the food Mrs. Weasley had given them for the train ride. She’d given them a few bags and Harry was carrying all of them.

“Thanks,” Ginny said, taking the bag and giving Harry another hug. She opened her arms to Draco, offering him a hug, too. He accepted, if not a bit bashfully.

Hermione found them, looking only slightly exasperated. “There you are,” she said in place of a greeting. “I was wondering when you'd get here.”

She put her arm around Ron’s waist and he placed his around her shoulders, fitting together instinctively like they were made to hold each other just like that.

“Hey, we kind of match,” Hermione said, pointing out her and Ron’s similar sweaters.

“We would have been here sooner if these fools weren't taking so long,” Ginny blamed.

“As if you didn't spend half of breakfast giggling over that letter,” Draco replied, smirking at her.

“What letter?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing,” Ginny said before anyone else could answer. “I've got to go, bye.” With that, she ran off to find her friends.

Hermione gave Ron a questioning look but he only shrugged.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit,” Harry said.

They headed down the corridor, passing by the full compartments until they were stopped by Pansy. Behind her were Blaise and Theo, as well as the Greengrass sisters, and Crabbe and Goyle.

“I guess we’ll have to send you off with your gang,” Ron said, patting Draco on the back.

Seeing as there wasn't enough room for all of them to sit together anyway, Draco went with his friends, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to find somewhere else to sit. They found Luna and Neville sitting alone and joined them.

“Do you mind if I lay down?” Harry asked, sitting beside Luna. His head was still hurting.

“Sure,” Neville said, standing up to make room for him, sitting by Hermione instead. Luna took a jacket out of her bag and folded it to create a makeshift pillow for Harry.

“I like your sweater,” he said to her. It was teal, with poofy sleeves and different colored buttons sewn on the front.

“Thank you,” she replied.

Harry curled up on the seat, resting his head beside her. She stroked his head gently. He ended up falling asleep like that, not waking up until half past one. He woke up just in time to catch the trolley lady.

“Anything from off the trolley, dears?” she asked them. “Pumpkin pasty? Chocolate frog?” She gave Harry a kind smile. “Anything, dear?”

He sat up, smoothing his rumpled flannel, and dug through his bag pockets for some money. He bought enough snacks for all of them to share and some for Draco, suspecting his plan was not to eat for the entire trip.

He bought him a few chocolate frogs, hoping his love of chocolate would ease his nervousness. He wandered down the train corridor in search of Draco and his friends. When he found them, he deposited Draco’s treats on the table in front of him, eliciting giggles from the rest of the group.

Draco’s fair cheeks pinked, and he looked up at Harry with a displeased expression. “You don't have to feed me.”

“Have you eaten?” Harry asked, putting an arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“I had breakfast,” he pouted. “Give me a break.”

“Mind if I sit?” Harry asked as he took a seat.

“By all means,” Draco sarcastically remarked as he scooted over. Theo, who was sitting beside him with his legs up on the seat, moved so that his back pressed against the window, his legs moving onto Draco’s lap.

Harry opened a chocolate, breaking a bit off for himself. Draco watched him as he ate it, waiting until he broke off a second piece before he did the same. This obviously pleased Harry, if the way he smiled and nuzzled Draco’s cheek was anything to go by.

Theo frowned at the sight. “You two better not start snogging while I'm trapped in here.”

“Just for that, you're not getting any of my chocolate,” Draco said, scooting it toward the end of the table, away from Theo.

Harry had no intention of making out with Draco in front of everyone. He didn't so much mind public displays of affection, but he understood where Theo was coming from, not wanting to watch other people kiss. That was just gross.

“Why didn't you buy me candy?” Pansy asked.

“Because you're not special,” Draco snickered.

Across the aisle where Astoria and Daphne Greengrass sat, more laughter sounded.

“If you had a boyfriend maybe he'd buy you candy,” Daphne teased.

“Whatever, skank,” Pansy retorted, leaning back in her seat with a smug look. “I don't need a boy to buy me anything.”

“You're only saying that cause you can't get one.”

“Watch me.” Pansy stood up and left the room without further explanation.

The group looked around at one another, Blaise being the first to speak.

“Is she buying candy or finding a boyfriend?”

Pansy didn't quite know the answer to that herself, but the first step of her plan was to buy some candy. Boyfriend, she shook her head to herself. Why would she want one of those? She walked through the corridor, passing a couple of first years being nuisances as first years are. What she actually wanted was–

“Ginny,” she said in surprise, nearly bumping into the other girl as she moved through the too-crowded hall.

“Hi, Pansy,” Ginny greeted, smiling. “What are you doing?”

“I, um, I was going to buy some candy.”

“Me too.” Ginny slipped her hand into Pansy’s naturally like it was supposed to be there. Pansy supposed because they were friends it was natural.

They walked toward the front of the train to find the trolley lady. Pansy bought a few different things while Ginny tried to decide on one she wanted.

“What do you want?” Pansy asked, unfastening her pocketbook to retrieve her money.

“Oh, you don't have to buy me anything.”

“I’m already buying everything. We’ll take these jelly slugs, too,” she told the woman. She knew Ginny liked those.

The old lady glanced between the two girls and then smiled to herself. She handed Pansy her treats, and they went back to the compartment where Ginny’s friends were waiting for her.

“I suppose I should be on my way,” Pansy said.

“You can sit with us if you'd like,” Ginny offered, just as Pansy had hoped she would.

Pansy only realized once she was sitting with them that she felt self-conscious around Ginny’s friends. She'd only met them once, and they hadn't talked to her much. She didn't know how judgmental they were, or if they hated her or something. What if they thought she looked weird or acted weird, or they didn't like Slytherin?

The girls didn't even bat an eye at Pansy’s presence. They went on with whatever conversation they had previously been having, bringing Ginny and Pansy into it. Pansy didn't speak much, mostly listening to Ginny speak. She didn't have much to say to the other girls, considering she didn't know them and was already realizing she didn't fit in with the group.

One of them, the one who was talking the most, seemed like someone Pansy would bully. Would have, that is, if that was something she still did. Which it wasn't. Pansy wouldn't have bullied her for any other reason besides the fact that she was very pretty. She had long, sleek chestnut hair held back by a pretty dark blue headband. She wore little golden hoop earrings, and her lips were a glossy pink. She had a pretty doll-like face with round, doll eyes. Charlotte. That was her name, Pansy remembered.

The other two girls were a lot less threatening. Pretty, Pansy mentally corrected herself. Not threatening, just pretty. She needed to change her girl vocabulary.

The others were both blonde, one a bit darker. The lighter-haired one had her hair up in a ponytail and her eyes were the lightest blue Pansy had ever seen, made much more noticeable by the way she stared wide-eyed at everything. They were glaringly obvious. The other one was simple, rosy-cheeked, and freckled. Felicity and Daisy, those were their names. Pansy couldn't remember which was which.

The four girls talked easily, occasionally asking Pansy a question to include her in their conversation. By the end of the day, Pansy had decided they were alright as friends of a friend. It wasn't like she'd be spending much time around Ginny now that they were back at school, so it didn't matter anyway.

Pansy stayed with them until they made it to the castle where they parted ways and she went to find a seat at the Slytherin table. She scanned the area quickly, searching for her friends. She found them all sitting together, only Draco missing.

“Where’s Draco?” she asked as she sat between Blaise and Theo.

“With Potter,” Blaise replied with a teasing laugh. “Where else?”

“How was it enduring that all summer?” Daphne asked, leaning over Blaise to look at Pansy. She propped her head on her hand, awaiting the details.

While the first years were being sorted, they filled each other in on what they'd done that summer. Draco stayed at the Gryffindor table with Harry until the sorting was over and he joined his house for dinner. His friends teased him relentlessly throughout most of their meal. He had a feeling he'd be enduring this for a while.

Draco didn't mind teasing from his friends. What he had been worried about was the reaction of the other students who were well aware of his relationship. It made him rethink his actions. Should he not be so open with Harry? If everyone knew, did it matter? Or should he try to dispel the ‘rumours’ of their relationship? It might be too late for that.

His housemates didn't seem to have a problem with it. He was offered playful remarks and shows of support from them, which didn't go unappreciated even if he did tell them to bugger off. Of course, there were those who turned up their noses at the impropriety of it, but they mostly left him alone. It wasn't until tomorrow that he found out what exactly he was in for.

Apparently, not everyone was as supportive as Draco’s Slytherin mates. Quite the opposite, a lot of students had decided they didn't like it. Some were quieter about it, sending Draco suspicious or uneasy glances and whispering, while others were downright awful, spewing nasty words at him and making crude jokes.

Harry handled it well, used to being the target of bullying and not caring what anyone had to say about him anyhow. But Draco hadn't ever been treated like this. He hadn't ever received such vile notes in the middle of class or been yelled at in the hallway. It was unnerving.

And it wasn't only affecting him. Pansy, Blaise, Ginny, and Ron were equally as upset. It didn't get too bad considering they all had each other for protection and it went without saying that if you messed with one of them you messed with all. That didn't make it stop and it didn't lessen the hurtful comments.

They didn't talk about it for at least a week, a silent agreement passed around their groups to ignore it in hopes it might go away. It didn't go away and finally, they met up for lunch the way they used to. They had planned to keep doing that, but other things had gotten in the way, and they hadn't gotten around to meeting up. They did now because they'd decided it was time for a real talk.

None of them had specified why exactly they wanted to talk, but it hung heavily in the air as they sat together in the grass. They sat in silence for a good while, eating and staring at each other, waiting for someone to bring it up. Ron was the first to grow tired of the silence.

“So, are we going to talk about the raging homophobia we’re facing or were we planning to wait til everyone gets bored?” He took a bite of his sandwich and waited for someone to continue.

“I was going to go with the second option,” Harry said, stirring his soup. “There's not much we can do.”

“We could kill someone,” Pansy suggested, sounding a bit too serious. “That should send a decent message.”

Harry couldn't tell if she was being genuine or not, but he shook his head at her. “Yeah, we’re not doing that.”

“Harry’s right,” Hermione said. “They’ll get tired of it eventually.”

Pansy thought that was quite easy for her to say. She wasn't the victim of it. She was probably right, but it was happening now, and as much as Pansy didn't want to think about it, it hurt now. No one was personally attacking her, which she was glad for, but it felt personal. Maybe in a way, it was. Because knowing how many of her classmates hated Harry and Draco’s relationship was a reminder of how many people hated her. Would hate her, if they knew.

Pansy ignored most of the conversation, keeping quiet. Ginny, however, voiced her opinion on the matter. She said basically everything Pansy was thinking.

“I know this is about you two, but in a way, it’s about us, too,” she said. “Think about how many other queer people there are here.”

“What are we supposed to do about it, Ginny?” Harry said. “If I could stop people from being stupid I would.”

“You both make good points,” Hermione said. “There isn't much we can do, is there?”

“If anyone tries to hurt any of you, then we can kill them,” Harry said. “But besides that, just try to ignore it, okay? They're just being stupid.”

“You shouldn't be comforting us,” Ron said. “You’re the one everyone is making fun of.”

“Yeah, but I don't care.”

“Do you actually not care?” Draco asked. He'd been silent until now, picking at his pumpkin muffin.

“Yes, for two reasons.” He held his fingers up and smiled at them. “One, I've been bullied my whole life and honestly dealt with worse. And, two, I don't think liking boys is bad, so I don't care what people say about it.”

“That does seem like adequate reasoning,” Draco accepted. “You know, I don't think liking boys is bad either,” he decided. “I did fear my reputation would be tarnished, but I've been informed many times that everyone was already aware of my preferences. And I don't think I care either way.”

“Really?” It was Harry’s turn to question. “You don't care if people know?” Harry knew this had been bothering Draco. His red-eyed stares during breakfast told Harry it was either keeping him up all night or making him cry a lot.

“I did, but I'd rather have you than a ‘good’ reputation.”

Harry smiled softly, his eyes turning downward toward the grass. Ron voiced his disgust at the same time Ginny whispered, “Scandalous.”

They didn't talk about it much after that. It didn't stop or die down, but they tried to tell themselves it wasn't that severe. Some of the students seemed genuinely hateful, but most either found it funny or were simply ignorant. The teachers weren't that much better. Too many times things had been going on a few feet away from them and they said nothing, though the whole class could see it clearly.

That was a worry that they all shared, though none spoke aloud. Without repercussions for their actions, what was stopping the students from taking things too far? It was a lot easier to let things get out of control when no one was held accountable, and some people liked to see how far they could push. It did help that Professor Snape handed out a week’s worth of detention and took several house points from a Ravenclaw he’d overheard using such insults. That made people a bit more cautious at least.

***

“Toss me those arm guards,” Ginny told Daisy as she strapped her shin guards on. It was finally time for Quidditch tryouts, which Ginny had been looking forward to since August.

“Is your girlfriend going to watch you try out?” Daisy giggled, handing her the arm guards.

“Probably not. I don't think she likes Quidditch.”

The other girls giggled and Ginny realized what she'd said. “I mean, no, I don't have a girlfriend.”

As soon as she introduced them to Pansy they'd taken to joking that she and Ginny were girlfriends. Ginny always denied it, but it seemed she'd been getting too used to hearing it.

“Right,” Charlotte grinned. “And are you wishing a certain Slytherin would be there cheering you on?”

“I absolutely am not.”

“All I heard was absolutely,” Charlotte tittered, skipping away.

Ginny ignored her, strapping on her gear and questioning her choice of friendships. Thankfully, Pansy wouldn't actually be present for tryouts. Ginny’s friends had planned on joining to watch and support her, and that would be proper embarrassing to see that they were right. Not to mention the teasing. Though if Pansy did actually show up it meant she really did want to support Ginny and that thought might be worth a little poke to her pride.

Ginny and her friends made their way to the Quidditch pitch together. They'd separated once they arrived, Ginny heading onto the pitch and the other girls finding a spot in the stands that was close enough for a good view but far enough that they wouldn't accidentally get pummeled by inexperienced second years.

Ginny stretched as she waited for everyone else to arrive and if her eyes kept flickering toward the Slytherin area of the stands, well, who was to say? Despite it being exactly what she was waiting for she was surprised when she saw Pansy and her gang making themselves comfortable to watch tryouts. Had Pansy actually come to see her?

They waved and shouted what Ginny assumed to be encouragement and a weird mix of insults. Their way of showing affection was like that, Ginny had learned. It wasn't a love language foreign to her, she also brutally insulted her siblings as a way to say I love you. She had done it yesterday when she told Ron he wouldn't be making the team simply because he was a fool. They both knew that actually meant good luck, I believe in you.

Ginny waved back at Pansy and her friends, only to realize they weren't actually looking at her. She spun around faster than if someone had said Gwenog Jones was behind her. She immediately found what they were actually looking at, not Ginny, but Draco fully decked out in Quidditch gear, a brand-new broom in his hand, and a smug smile on his face as his fellow Slytherins congratulated him as if he'd already made the team. So Pansy wasn't here for Ginny.

She tried not to let that bother her, it wasn't as if she were expecting Pansy to show up for her. It made more sense that she would want to see Draco. Those affirmations didn't stop the embarrassment that heated her face. To make matters worse, from the corner of her eye, she could see Draco sauntering over to her.

“Hello, Weasley,” he said with a flirtatious glint in his eyes. “Come here often?”

Ginny laughed and was reminded that Draco’s status as her enemy was not a very strong position. Or a reasonable one at that.

“I thought you weren't trying out?” she said.

“I wasn't planning to, but I’d be dreadfully bored without it.”

“You mean without Harry,” she teased.

“Precisely, my dear.”

“Well, don't die, I guess.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Gin.”

Harry and Ron ran up to them, jumping around and pushing one another, their adrenaline rush that had been irritating Hermione and their dorm mates all morning here to share itself with more unwilling victims. Ginny was glad to see Harry excited, anyhow.

“Draco, you're here!” Harry said in shock, throwing his arms around Draco’s neck. “I thought you weren't cleared to play?”

“Well, that entirely depends on who you ask,” Draco replied, earning him an uneasy look from his boyfriend.

“Sounds dubious, but alright. As long as you don't die or anything.”

Draco groaned at this, although fair, entirely irritating vigilance over him. “I won't actually die if I run. I was joking.”

Harry stroked the back of Draco’s head. “Take a break if you need to, yeah? Don't push yourself.”

Draco rolled his eyes but he agreed. He leaned his head down to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

“I hope you do make the team,” Harry said. “I do enjoy watching you lose.”

“In your dreams, Potter.” The snark in Draco’s words was quite the opposite of the smile on his face. The kiss they shared was yet another betrayal of their rivalry.

“Oi! Captain,” Ron shouted. “When you're done smooching your opponents get over here so we can start.”

Harry tore himself away from Draco, and, with a wish of good luck, went after Ron. Ron pulled him in by the arm, whispering in his ear.

“You see those two?” He pointed to two eager-looking second-years waiting to show off their Quidditch skills in hopes of a coveted spot on the Gryffindor team.

“Yeah?”

“I heard them chatting shit about you,” he informed. “You know, in case you have trouble choosing players.”

Harry nodded in thanks. He knew who he wouldn't be picking. He doubted their playing was very impressive anyway. Harry had trouble choosing his new teammates, he didn't like turning people down, but even more, he didn't like accepting people who weren't worthy.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor were all far too competitive to share their practice time, but they'd been instructed to do so to save practice hours for the other two teams. Harry was included in these competitors, but he and the Slytherin captain, Laurence Bramston, tried to keep it somewhat friendly and stay on their own sides of the pitch.

During practice, Harry was figuring out his team, and he thought he had a pretty good one. He would make Ron keeper like last year, his skills having improved somewhat. Harry was also biased. Ginny was definitely going to be one of their new chasers. Two sixth year girls, both tall, loud, and of intimidating build, greatly impressed and somewhat frightened him with their beater skills.

The wind was strong that day, causing uniforms and long hair to flap around as they flew. Harry’s nose was getting runny and the wind in his ears made it difficult to hear. He'd hate to play a real game like this, though he'd played in much worse conditions.

He was flying beside a third year girl who had potential chaser abilities when his players started shouting. Because he couldn't hear them very well and shouting wasn't unusual during sports he didn't immediately check what was happening, keeping his attention on the girl. She briefly looked behind them where the rest of their team was flying.

“You’ve got to keep your focus, Christina,” he instructed gently. “If you get distracted-”

Harry’s teaching was interrupted by Ron shouting his name. It wasn't until he saw the look on Ron’s face that he realized something was wrong. That’s why they were shouting. They were yelling at him.
Harry directed his focus to the other players and saw two of them bringing Draco to the ground. Draco fell to his knees, his hands planted in the grass.

Harry was on the ground in an instant, sprinting across the pitch. He slid to his knees beside Draco, putting a protective arm around him. He pulled Draco’s arm around his shoulders and brought him into a sitting position.

“I’m fine,” Draco snapped, pushing Harry off him. He was breathing heavily but other than that he did seem fine.

“Did you get dizzy?”

Draco made no reply, but the sway in his step as he pushed himself off the ground was answer enough. The way he stormed off the pitch informed Harry that his embarrassment was worse than any physical ailment. Harry didn't stick around to hear all the questioning or whining about practice being interrupted. He headed straight to the changing rooms to find Draco.

Draco made a valiant effort to ignore Harry and stay composed, neither of which could be easy for him. The only telltale signs he was annoyed were the scowl on his face and the slight twitching of his hand that he balled into a fist. He stripped off his gear as fast as he could without seeming like he wanted to bolt any second. Harry didn't care if he did, he knew Draco couldn't run too far before he caught him.

Harry kept quiet, which only frustrated Draco more. But Harry was sure he knew what was wrong so he didn't need to ask. He wanted Draco to tell him when and if he wanted to. So instead of making him uncomfortable by prodding he decided on making him uncomfortable by taking a seat on the bench and staring him down.

Draco pulled off his uniform and the shirt he'd been wearing underneath. He finally acknowledged Harry’s presence, regarding him with a familiar but long-missed trademark sneer. Still, he said nothing.

“Would you like me to leave?” Harry asked in an aggravating tone of cluelessness.

Draco’s mind filtered through about twenty-eight different retorts before he simply gave up, sitting down with his shoulders slumped forward and an impressively dramatic pout. Harry always thought Draco looked pretty when he cried, but never said it for the fact it would be an odd thing to say to someone while they're crying.

He let Draco have a moment to wallow in whatever pitiful waters he was sinking into and changed into his clothes. He offered his hoodie to Draco, gently nudging his knee. Draco glared up at him through the messy bangs hanging over his face.

Harry brushed his hair back. “I don't want you to be cold, you git.”

Draco took the hoodie, pulling it over his head, but not without another pointed glare. Harry was still a bit cold in just his t-shirt, the phantom sting of the chilly air still hitting his bare arms.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment for a reason?” Harry asked, sitting beside him.

Draco sighed, wrapping his arms around himself, and leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry stroked his cheek and kissed the top of his head.

Draco finally spoke to say, “I’ve only just been humiliated.”

“You’ve not been humiliated. You just needed a break.”

“But everyone knows why.”

Harry failed to understand why that would make the scenario more embarrassing. Everybody knew anyway, they hadn't just found out.

“I don't want people to think I’m nutty.”

Harry looked at him with a mocking sympathy that told Draco exactly what joke he was about to hear. “Well, then,” Harry said with an all too amused smile. “I've some bad news for you, babe.”

“You are not funny.” Draco pressed his head into Harry’s shoulder, muffling his whine. “I’ve been humiliated countless times in, what has it been, two weeks? I don't want to be here anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Harry said with a little laugh. He was sympathetic, but it could still be said that Draco was overdramatic.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, facing him with a pout and sad, blinking eyes. Harry kissed his pink nose.

“Come on,” he said encouragingly. “Finish getting changed and then we can cheer you up, yeah?”

Draco was very much in need of cheering up, and Harry always knew what to do to make him feel better. Though it was true even a conversation of no general importance with Harry could make him feel better. He finished getting dressed and pulled Harry into a hug, pressing his cheek against his.

“I love you, baby,” Harry whispered.

There was a sudden, hushed chorus of awes and Harry turned around with a slow eye roll to see the entirety of both their tryout teams watching them. Hermione and Pansy were there, too. Hermione sent Harry a little wave when he met her eyes. Ron stepped forward out of the huddle.

“You good, mate?” he asked, giving Draco a rough pat on the back.

“Yes. Sorry.”

Ron shrugged, not understanding what Draco was apologizing for.

Laurence wasn't as chill about it. He gave Draco the kind of look they would get from their teachers if they were caught sneaking around at night.

“I’m afraid you won't be making the team this year, Draco,” he said, frowning disapprovingly.

“That’s not fair,” Draco argued, even though that was very much fair.

“Was it fair how you lied to me and said you were cleared to play?”

All eyes were on Draco, some rather disapproving. He hung his head in embarrassment.

“How about this, mate,” Laurence proposed. “Matches start in two months. You get your strength back up and I’ll leave a spot open for you. And if that's too soon then next term I’ll kick off whatever chaser we have and bring you in.”

Laurence held his hand up for Draco to take, earning himself the faintest smile. Draco took his hand, giving his agreement.

After that, Draco took Harry up on his offer to be running buddies. Harry needed to stay in shape for Quidditch, and he said running helped clear his mind. Draco couldn't say the same, but he found he didn't despise running as much as he previously thought. Sometimes he even found himself dragging Harry out for their runs when he didn't want to go. Maybe in October he really could join the team.

Chapter Text

It was raining heavily, pelting against the glass window Ginny sat by. The wind was strong enough that its howling could be heard from inside, at least where she sat. The rest of the Gryffindors in the common room probably couldn't hear it over their own chatter. It was cold where she sat, but not cold enough in the room that they would have a fire going, so she just pulled her sweater sleeves further over her hands and curled in on herself.

She had been reading, but she gave up the effort to study, unable to focus at the moment. Whether that was because of her talkative housemates or something else taking up her mind was anyone’s guess. She stared out the rain-streaked window, wishing the complications of her feelings could be washed away with the rain.

Hermione came trotting down the steps to the girls’ dormitory, her curls bouncing as she went. Her arms were full of books that she shuffled to keep steady as she made her way to where Ron and Harry sat on the floor playing chess. She set her books down and lay on her tummy beside them.

“I suppose you've not even started your paper?” she said to them, slipping a parchment from inside one of the books. It was what the boys assumed to be her nearly finished essay.

“It’s not due until Wednesday,” Ron said. “And I’m so busy, I think I might explode if I don't take a break.”

“How many breaks could one possibly need?”

Ron tilted his head at her, putting his hand atop her fluffy hair. “I need hourly breaks to ensure I don't go mad.”

“That explains why you never get anything done,” she remarked. “How will you ever get a job? Or were you planning on winging that, too?”

“Why yes, I was, my dear.”

Hermione huffed. She made a quick observation of the chessboard. “My bet’s on Harry for this game.”

“You're only saying that because you're mad at me,” Ron accused.

“She’s saying that because I'm better than you,” Harry said.

“Since when?”

Sat together in the armchair beside the trio were Dean and Seamus, watching without much interest Harry and Ron’s game. Seamus had bet on Harry winning and Dean had bet on Ron. Ginny watched them from across the room, the way they sat with their arms around each other and their legs tangled together, giggling and whispering like they didn't have a care in the world for anything besides each other.

Ginny knew, though it was rude to make such assumptions, but anyone could see it. Dean and Seamus were dating. Ginny would venture as far as to say they were in love, but that wasn't her place to say. She had realized it last year after her brief fling with Dean. The way he only ever talked about Seamus should have been a dead giveaway from the beginning. It was the way she had been actively, albeit unintentionally, getting in the way of their relationship that made her understand what was going on between them.

Ginny thought about asking them about it or asking Dean about liking boys, but she wasn't sure if that was rude. She also wasn't supposed to know, not that it was much of a secret. But Dean and Seamus had been best friends practically since they met, so most people didn't think anything else of their closeness.

Ginny wasn't afraid to admit she liked girls. She had been for a long time, but seeing her friends come out and be open and accepting of their own sexualities opened a safe space for her to do so, too. She did, of course, have some other problems. There was the fact that it wasn't considered normal, and she knew there were worse people in the world than annoying classmates. She knew her mother would be disappointed, she’d always had the dream of Ginny getting married to a nice man, planning a beautiful wedding, and giving her grandbabies.

Her mum didn't disprove of queer people, exactly, she just had certain expectations of Ginny. Most wizards didn't necessarily disapprove of queer people either, at least not the way Ginny had found out muggles did. Purebloods didn't like it because you couldn't produce heirs, and some people did stick up their noses for similar reasons, pureblood or not, but Ginny would say most were indifferent to it. You could, she could at least, see the difference between the taunting of her muggle-raised peers compared to her pureblooded ones.

Ginny stood from her spot by the window, making her way across the room. She needed to go for a little walk, just some time alone. She stepped outside the portrait, out into the hall. The lights were dim and the castle mostly silent, but not eerily so the way it was when sneaking around late at night.

She wandered down the corridors while her mind wandered to places of its own. Ginny couldn't be in denial of herself, she hadn't been for a while now. Not since she'd realized. It had been a joke all summer among their friends, Ginny and Pansy liked each other. It was true Ginny got butterflies from her, but not more so than she got from any other girl she found pretty. And Ginny had only just begun to accept that it was okay, so she didn't bother suppressing it.

What made Pansy different was that they'd become friends and grown close. And now Ginny couldn't stop thinking about her. She didn't think she'd truly realized it until the day before Pansy’s birthday. They had just gotten home from shopping in Diagon Alley and were packing away their things for school.

They were sitting on the floor together, Pansy leaned her head on Ginny’s shoulder, her silky hair brushing her cheek. She smelled like mint and subtle vanilla, warm and cold, like walking out in the snow and passing through a town where the only eye-catching building is a bakery selling sugar cookies. She also smelled of perfume that Ginny wouldn't ever wear not only because it was too classy and “ladylike” for her but she probably couldn't afford it. Pansy didn't say anything, which left Ginny alone with her thoughts. And that's when she realized those butterflies weren't as meaningless as she’d thought.

And that's how she was here now, crushing on a girl who probably wasn't doing the same. Pansy’s liking girls didn't mean Ginny actually had a chance with her. All those jokes this summer had been nothing more. Ginny was far from the kind of person Pansy would want. She would probably like to date someone sophisticated, someone who wore fancy perfumes and liked pretty things. Not a loud, dirty, rowdy Quidditch player.

Ginny’s femininity had always been a tormentor in her life. She didn't like all the stuff girls were supposed to like, such as doing their hair and their nails and clothes shopping. She wasn't quiet and well-behaved like her parents had always told her to be when she was a little girl. People said it was because she’d grown up with brothers and that made her rough around the edges. Sure, it made her more used to being knocked around but she wouldn't accredit her entire personality to the fact she grew up around boys.

Supposedly, boys didn't like girls who weren't feminine. Ginny didn't give a damn what boys liked, but she thought that was a very awful thing to go around telling young girls. Because they did want boys to like them and they might actually change their personalities for some guy. Ginny would debate that guys didn't care that much about that, anyway, since she’d pulled plenty of boys. It was probably some societal lie told to keep girls in their proper places.

Ginny rounded a corner, looking out the tall windows as she passed. She loved how rain made everything that much cozier. She felt relaxed as she listened to the raindrops pelt the windows. Ginny heard quiet laughter and footsteps coming down the corridor and turned to see Draco and Pansy walking together. Pansy smiled when she saw her.

“What are you doing, Ginny?” Pansy asked.

“I was, um, just going for a walk. Clearing my head.” She fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. “What are you doing?”

“Prefect duty,” Draco responded in a bored tone. “Speaking of, I’ll continue on over here.” He gestured down the corner Ginny had just come from. He winked at Pansy and left.

Ginny wondered why they were so close to Gryffindor Tower, usually the Gryffindor prefects took care of that. She assumed Draco was trying to get close to Harry, he had been venturing into their territory more often.

Pansy stayed behind with Ginny. She played with the necklace she had on, the one Ginny had gifted her for her birthday. It wasn't fancy, Ginny had made it herself with pearl beads and a little green butterfly charm, but Pansy was rarely seen without it.

Even in the dim lighting, Ginny noticed how flawless Pansy looked. Her skin, smooth and white, always reminded Ginny of pearls. Maybe Pansy reminded herself of a pearl, too, and that's why she liked them so much. Her lips were glossed with a dark shade, but still soft and inviting. Ginny loved Pansy’s lips, her perfectly shaped and pronounced cupid’s bow and full bottom lip. She avoided staring at her mouth seeing as it did nothing good for her imagination.

“So, um, how have your classes been?” Pansy asked.

“Alright. I've been very busy.”

“Yeah,” she laughed lightly, falling into the natural ease of their conversations. “Sixth year was a nightmare.”

“I can't believe you've only one year left here,” Ginny said. “I have to spend a whole year without you.”

Pansy giggled and Ginny’s cheeks reddened at her own statement.

“I think you’ll be alright,” Pansy replied, still smiling. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“No, why?” Ginny’s mind rushed with possibilities, even if they were terribly unlikely.

“I thought we could do something. Go to Hogsmeade maybe?” Her smile had disappeared, replaced by nervous glances cast at anything but Ginny’s face. “I’m surprised you've not been asked out yet. I know how you get around.” She let out a small, nervous laugh.

If that was supposed to be a joke, Ginny didn't find it very funny. But instead of being angered or annoyed like she usually would, she was hurt to hear that’s what Pansy thought of her. Was she actually being made fun of by her best friend? Not letting her hurt feelings show, she switched on a guise of irritation.

Ginny huffed in annoyance. “I don't see why that should matter to you.”

“It-it doesn't,” Pansy stuttered. “I don't care what you do. You can date anyone you please, it means nothing to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What, it's true! Why would that matter to me? It's not like I want to date you.”

“Right, because you would never want to be with a slag like me.”

“I don't- what?” Pansy cut herself off with surprise. “No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant you may not be free to go out with.”

“Oh.” It was Ginny’s turn for awkward laughter.

“I don't think things like that. You could sleep with half the boys in London and I wouldn't think less of you.”

Ginny appreciated that statement. As much as she would fight against it she was still hurt by the people who shamed her. Besides the sentiment, she was caught up on one of Pansy’s words.

“Boys?”

“Girls, I mean,” Pansy corrected. “Sorry. This is a bit odd, but I'm still not quite used to that.”

“That's alright. It’s difficult at first,” Ginny assured. “Are you doing okay with it? With yourself.”

“Not very.”

“Take your time. Just know there's nothing wrong, it only takes some getting used to.”

“How did you?”

Ginny wasn't really sure how she'd gotten used to it. One day she was severely in denial and then she was sitting on the kitchen floor telling Harry she was a lesbian. “Having queer friends, I guess. And supportive people. Give it time, Pansy, you’ll get there.”

“It feels strange that you know.”

“That’s good, though. You’re not hiding it.”

“Yeah.” Pansy didn't sound too convinced, but she smiled gratefully at Ginny.

“If you ever need any advice on being a girl kisser, I'm here,” Ginny offered. “Or if you want to talk.”

“Have you ever been with a girl?”

“Well, no. Maybe we can figure things out together then.”

“What kind of things?” Pansy’s chest rose and fell like she was breathing rather hard just standing still, her mouth slightly ajar.

“Anything,” Ginny shrugged. “You know, it’s perfectly alright to explore things and experiment. That's how you find out what you like.”

“With other girls?” she asked with a clumsy step backward.

“Who else?”

“Like, with you? We could, I mean, could we…”

Oh. Pansy wanted to try things out with Ginny. It was a tempting offer, one that made Ginny’s chest tighten and an uncomfortable but not undesirable feeling stir through her body. Even so, Ginny didn't want that. Because she knew she wouldn't be able to get that close to Pansy and act as if it was nothing but an experiment. And she didn't want to touch her just yet. If they ever shared that, Ginny would want it to be further along in a romantic relationship.

To soften the blow of her rejection so as not to embarrass Pansy, Ginny laughed goodnaturedly. “No, not with me. Go exploring.” Pansy probably only suggested Ginny because she was the only other queer girl she knew.

“Oh,” Pansy said quietly. “Right, then, I suppose I should finish my rounds. See you later, Ginny.”

Ginny waved and watched Pansy as she left. Pansy glanced back once but promptly turned around when she saw Ginny staring at her. Ginny hoped she hadn't embarrassed her. Hopefully, she would get over it.

For a second, Ginny wondered if she'd made a mistake. If Ginny didn't take this opportunity now, there was a chance she may never get it. But that felt wrong, getting it on with Pansy under the guise of a friendly experimental gesture when it meant something entirely different to Ginny. It wasn't as if Ginny would be forcing or deceiving her, but still, it felt dishonest and again, not what Ginny wanted from their relationship, even if it never did turn romantic.

Ginny went back to the Gryffindor common room to sulk. Because now, due to her own suggestion, she had to think about Pansy being with someone who wasn't her. Why had she even suggested that? Not that she didn't think it the right thing to do. Exploring was an important thing to do, in Ginny’s opinion, to get to know yourself. But she’d still detest the thought.

She saw Dean sitting by himself, Seamus on the floor at his feet playing Exploding Snap with a few other students. Ginny sat beside him on the arm of the chair.

“Hey,” Dean greeted her, happy but not unsurprised. The good terms they parted on were silently agreed upon, but they hadn't talked since they’d broken up.

“Hi.” Ginny smiled at him, then down at Seamus. Dean smiled, too, a happier one than she'd ever seen him wear. That kind of smile you gave when nothing else could describe how truly happy you were.

“I’m happy for you,” she said quietly.

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“We’re good, yeah?”

“If it's alright with you, it’s alright with me,” Dean said. “I should apologize though. I knew I liked him when we were together.”

“That’s alright. I think I knew I liked girls while we were dating.” She found that surprisingly easy to admit.

“You like girls?”

“Yeah. I kind of figured that all out during the summer.”

“Seamus and I spent the summer together and I finally told him how I felt,” Dean revealed. “We’d liked each other for a while, but we were, um, it was complicated.”

“I’m glad it's not complicated anymore.”

“Me too.” Dean leaned forward to ruffle Seamus’s hair. Seamus tilted his head back, looking up at him with a bright grin.

Seamus and Dean’s story was so romantic. Best friends to lovers, summer love, all the fizzles and butterflies, and pure adoration. Ginny wanted that. She questioned how impolite it would be to ask Dean how long they'd been together before they slept together. If they even had.

She asked anyway. “Did you two ever do it, then?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at her, but he looked slightly amused. “We did, yeah.”

“How long did you wait?”

Dean fell back against the chair, looking up at her. He hooked his arm in hers, holding her hand. “The first time was actually before we got together, but we didn't talk about that. But, yeah, that's why we didn't wait after we’d gotten together. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Ginny, you don't have to do anything like that if you don't want to,” he told her. “No matter how many times you already have, it’s fine to want to wait with someone.” He gave her a serious look before melting into a smile and whispering, “Are you with someone?”

“I wish,” Ginny sighed.

“Ooh, alright. Who is it?”

“Pansy.”

“Parkinson?”

“The very same.”

“No way. You're serious?”

“Very much so.”

“Oh, wow.” Dean’s excitement died down when he saw Ginny wasn't matching it. “Hey, that's alright, your friends now, aren't you? Is she not into girls?”

“No, she is. Just not into me.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don't, but I know I'm not the kind of person she would go for.” Technically, Ginny had no proof of this. But in her mind, it made perfect sense and she believed it. Better than believing she had a chance when she didn't have the slightest.

“When I first met Seamus, I thought he was loud, obnoxious, unruly, not the kind of friend I’d usually pick. Not at all.”

“What changed your mind?”

“He was very nice, he made me laugh, and look how cute he is.”

Ginny giggled at Dean’s gushing over his boyfriend.

“I’m just saying don't be too caught up on types. You may be surprised.”

“I guess that is a good point. Thanks, Dean.”

“Of course.”

***

“Ginny! Ginny!”

Ginny, who was walking through the hall with her friends, turned around to see Luna running toward her. She caught up to them, straightening her skirt and smoothing down her long hair.

“I’ve something to tell you.”

“Yes.”

“I like a boy.”

The Gryffindor girls burst into giggles and squeals, Luna staring at them with a faint smile. She rocked slightly on her feet, matching their happy energy.

“Who is he?” Daisy asked.

“Theodore Nott.”

“A slytherin?” Felicity gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. “Scandalous.”

“I didn't know you two were friends?” Ginny said.

“You don't have to be friends to like a boy,” Charlotte laughed. “He’s fit.”

“Bit sick looking,” Daisy mentioned. “I suppose if you like that.”

Theo did look sick often, his skin pale and his eyes frequently sporting dark circles. He walked around with bad posture and the general air of someone who always needed to lie down.

“He’s handsome though,” Felicity giggled. “And those curls.” She sighed dramatically.

“Are you friends?” Ginny asked.

“I don't think so. I’m not sure,” Luna answered, her expression thoughtful as she tried to conclude whether or not she and Theo were friends. “He and I met in the greenhouse, and we talked about herbology. Well, not the first time, that was at your birthday party, Ginny. He knows a lot about herbology, so I learned a lot about it, too. I already knew a lot, but I've been reading up.”

“So you’ll have something to talk about?” Ginny said. “All that for a guy you talked to once?”

“We have spoken three times,” Luna corrected. “He likes caramel candies, so I thought I could give him some as a gift.”

“Cute,” Daisy gushed.

“His favorite color is blue, which could also be useful.”

“How many things do you know about this guy?”

“I know he likes cinnamon rolls, and Christmas is his favorite holiday, except he doesn't like the way pine trees smell. He dislikes charmwork, he failed too many lessons. He always wears mismatched socks, and only dark colors.”

“Wow.” Ginny was partly impressed, and a tad frightened. “You’ve talked a lot haven't you?”

“I’ve been watching him.”

“You've been what?”

“I like him very much,” she said as if that was a normal thing everyone with a crush did. “I want to know as much about him as I can.”

“Cute,” Charlotte said. “When are you going to ask him out?”

“I can't do that. I don't know how.”

“Flirt with him a bit,” Ginny suggested. “If he does it back then you’ll know he likes you.”

“I don't know how to flirt. That's what I came to ask you.”

“Oh, perfect.” Felicity clapped her hands excitedly. “Tell him you like his hair. Or better, his eyes.”

“Smile and make a lot of eye contact when you talk to him,” Charlotte suggested.

Luna cringed. “I don't like making eye contact very much.”

“I’ve noticed,” Ginny commented. “You're always either staring at my forehead or into my soul.”

“Just tell him a joke or something,” Daisy said. “And then tell him his laugh is cute.”

“Alright. I think I can do that.”

“You know what you need?” Charlotte said excitedly. “A makeover.”

“A makeover?” the other girls chorused.

“Yeah. That's what we did to me when I liked that one guy in second year.”

“When we were twelve,” Ginny pointed out. “Luna doesn't need a makeover.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I don't mean we’re going to change her, just give her a little something to draw Nott in. A confidence boost, more like.”

“That sounds fun,” Luna said. She was well aware that girls gave each other makeovers, and though she had never cared much for it, she’d always wanted to be included in the circle of friends she’d see in the common room doing each other’s makeup. She was excited to be a part of that.

After all their lessons for that day, the girls brought Luna to Gryffindor Tower, up to their room. She sat on the floor while they gathered all their things, then gathered around her.

“We should have brought your makeup,” Daisy said, searching through her things.

“I don't wear makeup.”

“Oh, that's fine then,” Felicity told her. “We have a similar skin tone so you can wear mine.”

Felicity started by applying foundation and concealer all over Luna’s face.

“It feels weird.”

“That’s alright, you’ll get used to it. When we’re all done it will be like it’s not even there.”

“Alright.” That didn't feel true, but Luna hadn't worn foundation or concealer before so she was trusting Felicity.

“We’ll make you blushy and beautiful,” Daisy said, using her finger to apply dewy pink blush all over Luna’s face. It felt a bit better than the first products. “With boys, you have to let them know you like them, but you can never be too available. Keep him guessing.”

Ginny looked through the eye shadow palettes to find a shade that would look good on Luna. She didn't have that much experience with wearing makeup either. “Make sure he knows you have other things going on in your life,” she said. “And that you’ll be fine without him.”

“If he doesn't chase you, you’ll find someone who will,” Daisy added.

“That sounds like a lot of rules,” Luna said. “And very confusing.”

“They’re not rules,” Ginny said. “More like guidelines. Helpful tips.”

“We need a little white highlight,” Charlotte instructed, dabbing a brush in her shimmery highlight powder. “On the inner corners of your eyes to give you those ‘shag me’ eyes.”

“Those what?”

Charlotte giggled. “Do you not want him to shag you?”

“Perhaps.” Luna hadn't thought about that. “Am I supposed to?”

“You're not supposed to do anything,” Ginny said.

“What if I don't actually have a crush?”

“Luna, liking a boy doesn't mean you’ll want to have sex with him.”

“It doesn't?”

“Not always.”

“But I know when you fancy a boy you are supposed to feel butterflies and the world is brighter and all that.” That’s what Luna had always heard. “Those things aren't happening either, so perhaps I don't actually have a crush.”

“Do you think he’s cute,” Charlotte asked, powdering Luna’s face.

“Yes.”

“And do you want to go out with him?”

“I do.”

“Then you've got a crush, babe. Don't worry too much about it.”

Luna moved her face away from Charlotte’s brush. “I don't like this powder.”

“Let’s do your eyes and be done with it,” Ginny said.

“Boys like red, supposedly,” Felicity said. “I read that.”

Luna didn't like red, and it didn't make sense to her to wear it simply because Theo would, but she also didn't understand all this stuff and she wanted to do the right thing.

“We can do a pinkish-red,” Charlotte suggested. “That would look cute on you, I think.”

They did a pinkish-red colored eye look, keeping it simple upon Luna’s request. They curled her lashes, skipping over using false ones because Luna said they looked ugly. They did her hair next, not doing much besides brushing it out and letting it fall down naturally.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” Charlotte gushed at Luna’s waist-length waves. “Boys love long hair.”

Daisy took out the big sunflower earrings Luna was wearing. “I have some earrings you can borrow, they're simply adorable.”

The earrings were simple blue stones, not what Luna preferred but they were pretty. Daisy said they brought out her eyes. They gave her some clothes to borrow, too. Just a couple things they thought would be an attention grabber. She should be doing this often if she wanted Theo to chase her. So after her makeover, they let her borrow a bit of their makeup, some clothes, a pair of shoes and gave her a whole bunch of new rules.

Luna kept talking to Theo as well as watching him from a distance. He didn't seem to take any notice of her new look. The other boys at school were much quicker to show their appreciation for it, especially when Luna wore low-cut tops, or pulled her uniform skirt up higher.

She noticed that when people were caught calling Harry and Draco mean words they were punished, but hollering across the hall about “Lovegood’s knockers” was merely deemed “inappropriate” and moved past. It didn't go over her head why.

Theo didn't say anything about her ‘knockers.’ Not that she wanted him to, but she wouldn't mind it. Under certain circumstances. That was the point of this, after all.

Luna preferred watching him from a distance because she didn't know what to say to him. When they were discussing things they liked she was interested and very talkative, but besides that, all she could think to say was ‘I like you.’ It didn't help that Theo wasn't very talkative. That was good in some cases though, when Luna was talking about her interests she didn't like being interrupted. And Theo enjoyed listening.

Theo also liked Luna’s jokes, which most people didn't understand. Or they couldn't tell when she was joking and she would need to clarify, which wasn't funny at all. Theo had a light, breathy laugh, a chuckle he didn't let out fully. Luna really liked hearing it. Theo was a lot sillier than many people believed. He was cool, too, Luna found him very cool, but he wasn't as serious as everyone acted like he was.

Theo liked hearing Luna laugh, too. He'd told her so one day as they were walking to the Great Hall for dinner. “I like your laugh,” he said after she'd spent nearly a minute laughing at a joke he'd made.

He complimented her laugh. That meant he liked her, didn't it?

“Some people think I laugh too much,” Luna replied. “My dad says there's no such thing.”

“I agree with him. I don't think you can laugh too much. Especially not at my jokes.”

“I enjoy talking to you,” Luna said.

“I enjoy talking to you, too, Luna.”

Luna loved hearing Theo say her name. That must be the butterflies everyone meant, that feeling that made her face warm and her excitement rise. She flapped her hands enthusiastically.

“Do you do that when you're happy?” Theo asked.

“Do what?”

“This.” He copied her hand-flapping motions.

“Oh, it happens when I'm excited.” Luna didn't always notice those things, the little movements or noises she made, but they'd been pointed out to her before. Oftentimes in negative ways.

“Luna?”

Those butterflies again. “Yes, Theo.”

“Have you been dressing differently?”

She was wearing a very simple outfit today, magenta trousers, a teal shirt that fell low on her chest, paired with a push-up bra Daisy had given her, and the black ballet flats she’d borrowed from Charlotte. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, and she had no jewelry on. She had stopped wearing makeup besides blush because it all felt icky on her skin. She kind of liked the way she looked in makeup, but she simply couldn't stand it.

“Yes, I have.” This was good. He was supposed to notice.

“Why?”

What was she supposed to say to that? She was supposed to let him know she liked him.

“Why not?”

“I don't know. You can dress however you want, I think you always look good.”

He thought she looked good? Perfect.

“I do miss your earrings though. You made all that jewelry, didn't you?”

“Yes. I miss my earrings, too.” If Theo liked her earrings then it would be alright to wear them.

It occurred to her at this moment what she had been doing. She was letting someone else’s opinion dictate how she dressed. And for what? The potential outcome that he ask her on a date? So she could dress up and pretend to be different.

“I like my earrings,” Luna declared. “And I like you, but I don't care if you don't like them.”

“Uh, I do like them.”

“Yes, but if you didn't, I would still like them. And I'm going to keep wearing them.”

“Were you not wearing your earrings because you thought I didn't like them?” He looked both confused and saddened at these assumptions.

“Boys don't like unusual girls. I know many people think I'm unusual, and that I dress funny.”

Theo stopped walking and Luna followed. He looked at her and she kept her gaze on the single longest curl that fell over his forehead. He was a lot taller than her, so her gaze typically fell on his chest.

“I don't think you're unusual,” he told her. “Not in any bad ways. You're kind, thoughtful, hilarious, and a lot fun to be around. And I love the way you dress.”

Luna promptly turned away. She didn't think she'd ever received so many compliments at one time. “Theo?”

Theo laughed, at what Luna wasn't sure. Sometimes he laughed when he was happy, not only when something was funny.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Out? On a date?”

“Yes.”

“Um, I’m not sure. I've never been on a date,” he revealed.

“You haven't? I thought everyone liked you?”

“I don't think that's true,” he said with a small smile. “Though I'm flattered by the assumption. Most girls who ask me out want something, they're always hoping I’ll be their boyfriend, and I'm not sure I want that.”

“You don't want to be someone’s boyfriend?”

“I wouldn't mind being someone’s very good best friend that they go on dates with. If that makes any sense?”

“I suppose.”

“You know how some people allegedly feel butterflies and want to make out with people and get all,” he clasped his hands, holding them up to his chest, and fluttered his eyelashes. “I don't feel all that when I like someone. I don't date because I feel like no one understands that.”

Luna wasn't sure she fully understood, but she was very interested. “Would you like it if we went on a date as friends?”

“Yes, but maybe a little different than friends.”

“Friends who date?”

“Yeah. Friends who date, and hold hands sometimes, and maybe occasionally kiss. Only a little.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Then yes, Lovegood, I would like to go out with you.”

He held out his arm for Luna so she could hook hers around it and they walked to dinner together.

Chapter Text

Draco was sitting in DADA class, jotting down notes when a folded paper landed softly on his desk beside him. He assumed it was from a friend by the way it hadn't hit him. He waited until Professor Snape stopped talking for a moment before he unfolded the note. It was not from a friend.

Draco gave the classroom a quick once-over to determine who had sent it. He saw, as he suspected, the culprit looking directly at him, awaiting his reaction, no doubt. It was Roderick Tandel, one of the Gryffindors he shared this class with. Draco had noticed the majority of his classmates who cared so much about his sexuality were boys.

Draco gave him no reaction, reading the note again. It was nothing malicious, only an inquiry as to whether Draco was actually queer or not. Seeing as this note wasn't very mean, Draco decided to have a bit of fun with it. He scrawled out a reply and sent it back.

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ;)

He couldn't resist peering behind him to see the boy’s reaction. He looked truly horrified but not too much that he couldn't write back a response. A simple why. Draco took a minute to focus on his work before sending a reply.

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

He didn't seem to like this response as his next note was just a cruel insult. Draco had a feeling this wasn't just prejudice, and his amusement at the situation took away the bite it might have had otherwise. Though he was beginning to find some of his classmates rather tiresome with their mockery. Instead of another note he sent a nonverbal hex his way.

Unfortunately, because his aim was off (he blamed it on the angle) his spell had missed, resulting in Roderick falling off his chair, him and his books and ink pot coming down with a crash. The entire class stared at the seemingly random event while Draco tucked his wand away. Only Professor Snape seemed to understand what had happened, judging by the stern look of disapproval he gave Draco as he passed him to stand above Tandel, who scrambled to his feet to face his professor.

Draco laughed to himself as Tandel tried to explain while Snape berated him, taking off five house points and giving him a detention with no explanation. He didn't find it so funny when Snape asked to see him after class. He didn't see why he should be in trouble for this, but Snape didn't know what had gone down between the two boys. He likely only saw Draco’s behavior.

After class, Draco lingered until he was left alone with his professor. “You wanted to see me?” he asked, hoping his act of seeming oblivious would let him off without a long lecture.

“Have a seat.”

Guess not.

Draco sat down and Severus joined him, sitting by his side. He placed a note on the desk and Draco guessed what it was. How he had it was another question. Draco distinctly remembered it being on his desk and he would have noticed Severus snatching it.

“I see you have proof that I am innocent,” Draco said. “So may I leave?” He made a move to stand, but Severus stopped him.

“No, you may not.”

Draco pouted, but he did as he was told and sat back down.

“I don't appreciate you making a mess of my classroom,” Severus said.

“Is that what I’m in trouble for?”

“I didn't say you were in trouble.”

“Then why am I here?” He leaned forward, head resting on his hand.

“Mr. Tandel is not the only one who speaks to you this way, is he?” It wasn't much of a question, Severus knew he wasn't.

“It’s fine. It isn't something to be made a big deal of.” That was the last thing he wanted. He’d rather get beat up by a muggle-born bully than have the news of it happening spread. Because if others found out, and the parents of the students found out, then his parents would likely find out, and that was simply not an option.

“I would disagree,” Severus said.

“Please, don't say anything.” He wasn't sure what else to do besides resort to begging. Severus was slightly more trustworthy than his parents, but he didn't know what he would make of this either. That's where Draco’s next defense came in.

“It’s not true.”

“What is not true?”

“That I’m, you know, what everyone is saying about me.” Draco looked down as he spoke, unable to face Severus.

“Do you think this behavior would be acceptable if it were true?” Severus asked.

“Well, no.”

Draco dared look up at Severus, who met with a surprisingly reassuring look. It was hard to tell what Severus was feeling but after years of spilling his feelings to his godfather, Draco could usually tell when he disapproved and when he didn't mind. He could also tell when he knew something.

“You know?” he asked, which he felt was a bit safer than straight out saying it.

“Your relationship with Mr. Potter is no secret to me, Draco. You've only spent years sharing the details of your infatuation.”

“I have not!” He had, but he didn't think it was that obvious. Knowing Severus, he probably knew before Draco even did.

“You won't say anything, will you?” Draco asked, becoming serious. “To mum and dad?” Unless they knew, too. But that was less likely. Severus was always at school with him, after all, so it made more sense he would pick up on it.

“I’ve no intention of telling anyone business of yours,” Severus answered.

“Do you think they would be angry with me?”

Severus didn't respond. He wasn't sure. He knew they would understand better than Draco thought, but that didn't mean they would be happy or even alright with it. Draco took this silence as a yes and hung his head, slumping forward in his seat. He took Severus’s cloak, wrapping it around himself the way he'd always done as a little child, hiding himself from the rest of the world. His shoulders shook but Severus couldn't see his face enough to tell if he was actually crying.

“I think they would understand,” he told him. Understand to an extent, in the way Draco couldn't help it and they wouldn't mind with the caveat he produced an heir and did not disgrace the family name.

“No, they wouldn't.”

Severus let out a barely noticeable sigh and spent about four seconds debating if he wanted to say what he was about to.

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But I do.”

Draco looked up at him, nose pink and lashes wet. “You do?”

Severus gave a slight nod, his face void of any telltale sign of feelings. He was only telling Draco this so he understood two things. The first one was that if he ever needed someone safe to talk to, he had one, and the second was to offer some semblance of comfort to him knowing that someone who was at least somewhat family accepted him.

Draco wiped his tears away with Severus’s cloak. “So, you promise you won't say anything?”

“I may need to bring this issue up with the staff,” he said. “But I won't say your name if you wish.”

“Thank you.” Draco looked truly grateful, so much so it was sad. Severus would do all he could to ensure his safety and comfort without giving anything away.

Draco left the classroom to find three Slytherins waiting outside. A few of his darling snakes seemed to have taken to a great protectiveness of him, disguising their distaste for Draco’s sexuality as a distaste for Gryffindor.

“Did you get detention?” one girl asked. Draco couldn't remember her first name, but he knew her by her last name, Mallory.

“No, I didn't.”

“We don't much care about that,” Mallory said, even though she had been the one to ask.

One of her friends, Selina Morcott, joined in. “Are you and Harry actually together?”

Draco rolled his eyes as exaggeratedly as he could so they could see exactly how bothersome he thought them. “No, we are not.”

The surprise that came from them was just as stupid as their question.

Draco’s hand curled into a fist, and he forcibly relaxed his muscles. “What business is it of yours?”

The third one, a boy Draco knew as Eric Norden, replied. “We can't let our Draco be with just anyone. Especially not a Gryffindor.”

𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰. He scoffed.

“You are friends now, aren't you?” Mallory pressed. “That's interesting.”

“Not very,” Draco dismissed. “Harry is hardly as important to me as you like to think.”

“So you haven't even done it?” Norden asked.

Draco was taken aback by that statement but he quickly regained his composure, not wanting to fuel their curiosity. He put on a cold, mocking expression.

“If I have, I can assure you it meant nothing more to me than a bit of entertainment.” As he was sure this whole affair was to them.

The three gaped at him and he physically restrained an eye roll.

“So there's nothing at all romantic going on between you two?” Morcott questioned, disbelief being replaced with disappointment.

“Not at all.”

“And you don't want there to be?”

“I assure you I'd rather take anyone else than Potter. Look at the state of him.”

The trio laughed in their agreement.

“So what then?” Norden said. “Potter’s a bender, is he? Best you stay away from him completely, don't you think?”

Draco’s lip curled in disgust at the boy’s words, but he couldn't go on defending Harry now. That would look very suspicious after all his talk.

“Right,” he said, forcing out a little laugh. “As if I would ever go anywhere near that.”

They laughed some more, a sound Draco truly despised, and he left them that way, walking off. He was surprised to run into Harry standing in the hall. He looked back to see if the three nosy students were still in view and seeing as they weren't, started speaking to Harry.

“It's good you're here,” he said. “I think it would be best if you and I don't interact so much around others. It's odd enough we’re friends, I think it would be for the best if we didn't fuel the rumours about us snogging in the Quidditch changing room.”

Harry didn't respond, fixing Draco with a cold stare.

“What? Perhaps this will die down if we don't act like we’re together.”

“Actually, Draco,” Harry said harshly, taking Draco by surprise. “I think you've been entertained well enough.”

Entertained?

“Oh, you heard that?” Draco dismissed him with a laugh. “I was only saying that so they wouldn't think I care about you.”

By the looks of it, that hadn't helped.

“You know what?” Harry said with a sardonic smile. “I actually would like to stop acting like we’re boyfriends.”

“Harry, you're being ridiculous. You know I didn't mean that.” If Harry had overheard then he knew Draco wasn't genuinely talking bad about him. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You could have defended me.”

Draco was at a loss for a defensive comeback. It was true, he could have defended Harry. Still, he thought Harry’s anger a bit unfair. It wasn't like Draco had meant any of that stuff.

Harry didn't wait to hear him out, storming off. Draco called after him but drew back so as to not cause a scene.

Harry might have forgiven him right there if he had chased after him, but the fact he didn't only furthered his hurt.

***

Hermione brought Harry’s homework to his dorm room, along with her class notes. It was the second day in a row she’d done this and the third day Harry had spent rotting in bed. Hermione was getting increasingly worried. Ron had already talked her down twice today.

Hermione and Ron pulled back the curtains and joined him on his bed, setting his homework on the nightstand. Ron had brought him a pumpkin muffin and an apple he'd snuck into the kitchen to get.

Hermione strokes Harry’s head. “Do you need anything, Harry?”

“A new life would be nice.”

“I was thinking more like a glass of water or…”

“I hate myself,” he muttered.

“Harry, I know you're upset but that's not how you should be thinking.”

“Why do you hate yourself?” Ron asked. “At the moment, that is.”

“I got angry at Draco and now he won't talk to me.”

“How could he talk to you, you've been in bed for three days?”

“Well, he probably hates me.”

“Did you get angry for a valid reason?” Hermione asked.

“Not really. I mean, yes, but no.”

“Is that why he was acting like an arse to me?” Ron said.

“He’s always an arse to you,” Hermione replied.

“He’s probably just upset with me,” Harry said. “He was trying to protect our big secret,” the annoyance in Harry’s voice was evident, “and I got upset that he made fun of me instead of defending me.”

“He made fun of you?” Hermione asked, astounded.

“He wasn't being serious but,” he said the next bit quieter, “it hurt my feelings.”

It wasn't so much what Draco said, but hearing him insult him like that when he could have said something in his defense, it hurt. If Harry had been in his place he would have told those stupid Slytherin that he and his boyfriend didn't give a damn what they thought. But Draco wasn't Harry.

Harry sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m not even angry at him. Well, I was, but I'm mostly just annoyed. Why can't everyone leave us alone?”

“I don't know,” Hermione sighed. “But you shouldn't let this get in between you two.”

“He said we should interact less around others.”

“I can't believe I'm siding with him,” Ron began. “But I think you should try and understand his side. His family is horrible and they've probably said things way worse than what he gets here.”

“What happened to you're more important than my reputation?” Hermione said.

“Approval from your family is a whole other thing. I’m not saying he’s right, but it is.”

“So you think it's his parents he's afraid of?” Harry asked.

“I think they might be a big reason for his shame.”

“I think that could be true,” Hermione said. “It's worth discussing with him, definitely.”

Harry slumped against his pillows, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “I guess I’ll do it once I get out of bed. Unless you want to kidnap him for me.”

“I’m not doing that,” Ron declared.

“Fine,” Harry huffed. He stuck his hand out toward his nightstand. “Give me that muffin.”

Hermione grabbed it for him. “Do you want your homework, too?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

***

The next time Lucius visited Hogwarts, Severus brought up the incident he'd had with Draco, leaving out any overly revealing details. Lucius came by every now and then under the pretense he had some sort of business to tend to when in reality he'd only come to see Severus.

Severus had decided the best way to get into the subject was by letting Lucius know Draco had been facing hostility from his peers. The reason didn't need to be said, it wasn't strange to believe Severus didn't know. Lucius didn't seem to care much.

“I don't believe you are listening to me,” Severus said in the middle of his explanation.

“Draco doesn't get along with his peers,” Lucius said, his tone bored and almost annoyed. “And why should he? You teach the lot, you know what they are like.”

“I don't tolerate fights amongst them.”

“Fights?” Lucius’s tone took on a hint of amusement. “I don't believe for a moment my Draco is fighting anyone. Have you seen him duel?”

“Have you?”

“Well, no,” his confidence noticeably faltered. “But that is not what I came to see you for.”

Lucius sauntered toward the desk, leaning against the edge. He swung his hair over his shoulders and peered down at Severus with his piercing gaze, lustful and impatient.

“Your son’s friends might have more of an inclination to cause trouble than he.”

Lucius hummed, clearly not listening and not caring. He pushed Severus back against his chair and dropped himself onto his lap, straddling him. “I didn't know Draco had friends.”

Severus stared at him completely unimpressed, but he bit back his tired sigh. He slid his hands half-heartedly up Lucius’s leather-clad thighs. “He has quite a few and they are rather protective of the boy.”

“That’s lovely, Severus,” Lucius said in a tone that implied he actually couldn't care less about his son's acquaintances.

“Have you taken in a word I said?”

“I would rather be taking you in.”

Severus closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “I thought perhaps your visit would mean a break from dealing with childish behavior. It seems not.”

Lucius gave a throaty chuckle in response. “My darling, Sev, you must loosen up a bit. That's precisely why I'm here.” He placed his hand on Severus’s abdomen, trailing it downward.

Severus, instead of indulging him, leaned forward as if to stand, forcing Lucius to stand as well. Lucius got up, a quiet but clearly irritated huff escaping his lips. He seated himself on the desk.

“What is it you were trying to tell me?” He hoped that if they got through this swiftly then he could get what he wanted. “Is something actually bothering my boy or are you meddling in a teenager’s drama?”

Severus wasn't sure how much he could say without revealing something that wasn't his to share. He was beginning to think he shouldn't have tried to have this conversation at all. He stood in front of Lucius, subjecting himself to his direct, yearning gaze.

“Oh, how I do miss being young,” Lucius sighed dreamily. “It was much more romantic then, wasn't it? Our secret meetings, our young love.”

Lucius stroked a tender hand over Sev’s cheek, not as soft as it was in his youth. “I long for that sort of freedom sometimes, don't you? To be young again, two boys chasing one another,” he pulled his partner in by the hips, his dreamy smile becoming a smirk. “Exploring each other.”

“I don't recall ever doing the chasing,” Severus remarked, running a hand through Lucius’s fine hair. With upkeep, it stayed fair like it was in his school years, though Severus could feel how it had lessened in thickness.

“As for exploring,” he said in a low voice, running a hand down Lucius’s side. “I’ve memorized every curve of you by now.”

“Ah, you can still make me blush like a schoolboy.”

“I’m quite glad we are not teenagers anymore,” Severus said. “I can't think of a thing I didn't despise about it.”

Lucius brought their faces closer together, murmuring against his lips. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Lucius laughed, his little laugh that always stayed in his throat but sounded nonetheless delightful. “I still want you just as much as I did then.”

Lucius pulled Severus into a fervid kiss. Severus planted one hand on the desk, the other sliding between Lucius’s thighs. When they were young, Severus had also wanted Lucius in intense and heated bouts of passion, though nothing like Lucius’s teenage randiness. That wasn't to say their desire was not matched, it most definitely was. Lucius was simply more open about it.

There was a knock on the door and Severus and Lucius instinctively pulled apart. They eased a bit when they realized they were not in any comprising positions and Lucius stood up, adjusting himself and straightening his clothes. Severus smoothed his hands over Lucius’s hair and another knock sounded. Lucius eyed him and glanced at the door.

Severus cleared his throat and invited the visitor to come in. Both men were less than pleased and instantly on edge when Draco entered the room.

“Oh, hello, Dad,” Draco greeted him, not sounding like he found anything unusual. “When did you arrive?”

“Mere moments ago,” Lucius lied. He'd arrived about an hour earlier.

“Are you two busy? I can leave.”

“Was there something you needed?” Severus asked.

Draco eyed Lucius nervously, silently letting Severus know that whatever he came here for he didn't feel comfortable sharing it with his father. However, Lucius caught it, too.

“Anything you have to say you may freely say it to us both,” Lucius said. He wasn't offended by Draco’s not wanting to talk to him, but yes, he was. “Is it about you being harassed?”

“Harassed?” Draco looked at Severus again, this time with a sense of betrayal. Is that why his father was here? “Are you upset with me?”

“Is there some reason I should be?”

Oh. So he didn't know that much.

“No.”

Lucius looked confused, but also not interested enough in this conversation to care. “Is there a reason you are allowing yourself to be pushed around?”

“I am not allowing it,” Draco scoffed. “I can stand up for myself, thank you.”

“I'm sure.”

“Draco,” Severus interjected. “Perhaps you can come back later for whatever it was you needed.”

“Oh, stop trying to send him out,” Lucius said. “He can talk to me.”

Draco tried not to sound too nervous as he spoke to his father. “I don't need anything.”

There was a moment of silence, a thick tension that only Severus and Draco felt. Lucius only returned to a state of boredom, not wanting to stand around all day dealing with this interruption. If Draco wouldn't talk then he should be on his way, instead of standing around looking at the floor and waiting for what, he wasn't sure.

“Well, I suppose you can go then,” Lucius said. “And have a bit more respect for yourself.” He put a finger under Draco’s chin, tipping his head up. “Hold your head high. This is why people make fun of you. You are not to accept that treatment.”

Draco wanted to argue that there was nothing he could do, but he didn't want to argue with his father. He would, however, be having a word with Severus later.

“Fighting is no way to prove your worth,” Lucius went on. “You must show them your superiority. I assume what they are saying is not true, so let them know how terribly wrong they are.”

“What if it is true?”

“Then lie.”

“What if it isn't a bad thing, it’s only that some people don't like you for it.”

“Then take pride in it,” Lucius said simply. “You've much to be proud of, my dear boy.”

“Yeah, I do,” Draco said, gaining some confidence as that statement sunk in.

Lucius nodded at him.

“Dad?” Draco’s voice was earnest, trembling slightly like a child so determined to please.

“Yes?”

Severus caught Draco’s eye, but it was neither a look of encouragement nor warning. It was only to say ‘if you ever need somewhere to go, I’m here.’

Draco felt weak in the knees, literally, as if he might topple over any second. Coupled with nausea and a pounding heart, he wasn't sure if he could do this. But he did. He'd wanted to since last June when he and Harry got together.

“I have a boyfriend,” he stated.

Lucius didn't respond. He didn't look angry. He looked like he was waiting for Draco to elaborate, so he did.

“And I don't care what anyone has to say about me,” he declared. “I care about our family’s name, but a Malfoy is not the only thing I am. My own name is mine alone to disgrace, and I don't cater to the criticisms of people who are below me. I am proud of who I am.”

Lucius didn't look the slightest bit upset about this declaration. He didn't look the slightest bit pleased with it either. Draco waited in horrifying silence for his father to express anything.

Lucius put his hand on Draco’s cheek, looking him in the eyes. Severus was beside them in a second, putting a hand on Lucius’s arm. Draco knew whatever he was about to hear would be the end of it, but he couldn't tell if it would be bad or good.

“That’s alright,” Lucius said, still unfeeling. “It happens. One day you will feel different.”

Draco was too stunned to speak. What was he supposed to say to that? He supposed trying to prove otherwise wouldn't be of much use.

“It’s alright to be confused,” Lucius continued. “I was, too, at one point, but I found a woman. You will do the right thing when it comes time.”

Draco knew his father hadn't actually found a woman, she’d been brought to him, but his parents did love each other. Didn't they? He had always thought so.

“I wouldn't flaunt it so much, though,” Lucius said with an air of distaste.

“Lucius,” Severus said, disapprovingly harsh.

Lucius ignored him. “Do you understand me, Draco?”

He nodded, forcing himself to look his father in the eyes only because he knew he'd be scolded for not doing so. “Yes, Father.”

“Draco, you may leave,” Severus told him.

He'd hardly finished his sentence when Draco was out the door, running down the hall with hot tears spilling over his cheeks. That could have gone much worse than it did, but Draco didn't think he could ever feel as awful as he did in this moment. For the better part of his life, all Draco had wanted was his parents’ approval. His father would probably tell his mum, and basically, his life was ruined because of a momentary childish feeling that he could do no wrong in his dad’s eyes.

Draco brought himself to a halt when he saw Ron, Hermione, and Harry walking down the corridor together. Since they'd all become friends it was more common to see them walking around in the dungeons like that, but it was still strange.

“Oh, Draco,” Ron said. “We were looking for you.”

“Why are you crying?” Hermione noticed his tears.

Draco ignored both of them, looking directly at Harry. He threw his arms around him, crying into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he sniffled. “I shouldn't have said all of those terrible things. I don't care what anyone says about us.”

Harry pulled Draco back by the waist to look at him. “It’s alright,” he said. “I wasn't thinking about how you felt.”

“I don't care anymore,” Draco exclaimed. If his life was ruined he may as well make the most of it. He wasn't going to hurt Harry trying to fix it. “I love you and that's my choice. No one else matters.”

Harry smiled, a bit confused considering he didn't know what had been going down, but he wanted to match Draco’s excitement.

“I love you, too.”

Draco hugged him again. Harry held him tightly, looking over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione. They smiled awkwardly, not sure if their happiness was greater than their confusion. They could ask what prompted this later.

***

Draco lay in Harry’s bed, Harry snuggled in his arms. The curtains were drawn shut and they spoke in hushed voices so as to not disturb their sleeping roommates. Harry wasn't in the mood to speak, so Draco did most of the talking.

“Do you think you’ll be up for a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he asked. “Theo is taking Lovegood. He’s into her, you know. Quite surprising, I didn't know he liked dating. He says he doesn't understand it. Perhaps the same way you didn't understand sexual desires, he doesn't understand romantic ones.”

Draco let out a little gasp of surprise at his own discovery. “I should tell him about that. May I tell him about that?”

Harry gave a slight nod.

“You know, Lovegood’s been walking around with her tits out all week.” That was a turn of subjects Harry hadn't been expecting. “Did you notice? Pansy told me Hermione told her that Ginny’s slag friends told her to do that. To attract boys.”

“Don't call girls that,” Harry tiredly reprimanded.

“I mean, her misguided friends. I suppose boys like that, though. I can't understand why.”

“I can't understand why anyone likes anyone's body,” Harry said.

Draco laughed softly and stroked Harry’s cheek. He nestled into him, draping his leg over Harry’s hip.

“I would like to go to Hogsmeade, by the way,” Harry whispered. “Maybe.”

Draco hummed and kissed Harry’s nose. He pulled the blanket higher over them. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Chapter Text

Ginny stood in front of the mirror brushing her hair. It was so straight, she wished she had put in rollers for a little wave. She disliked all the hassle of doing her hair so she usually just let it fall how it may. She debated doing her makeup today, wanting to look nice but not actually wanting to do the makeup. She did only her lashes and put a little pink tint on her lips.

She and her friends were getting ready to go to Hogsmeade. Daisy had gotten a date, which she couldn't stop talking about. The other three were going together. Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione were going, too, but they were all going on dates. Luna had finally asked Theo out, and he'd said yes. Ginny felt bad about the whole makeover ordeal, but it had worked out alright so maybe it hadn't affected Luna too badly.

Ginny realized now that she had never actually given an answer to Pansy’s Hogsmeade invitation. She had heard Draco mention his friends were going so her plan was to meet up with her there and hang out. She hadn't gotten many chances to spend time or even speak with Pansy lately. The most she got were glances and little waves across the Great Hall.

Ginny wondered if this recent absence had been caused by her suggestion to explore. She wanted to help Pansy get comfortable with herself, with someone who didn't want anything else from her, but there was a tiny, constant pricking in her mind that was trying to tell her she wasn't okay with it. She reminded herself that she was the one to pose the idea in the first place. It had seemed a lot better at the time.

It wasn't like it mattered what Pansy did, not to Ginny. They weren't dating and they never would be. Ginny would do good to remind herself of that. Pansy was living her life, having fun, and maybe she would even find a girlfriend. Ginny would stay back and mind her own business, hoping her crush would fade away.

As Ginny got dressed she couldn't help but wonder what Pansy would think of her outfit. Not that it mattered, no, because Ginny dressed for herself. She put on a cozy jumper, the color combination perfect for autumn. She put on her little brown plaid skirt, pulling it up a bit higher. Her jumper had red and yellow in it, her house colors, so she wore one yellow sock and one red one. She pulled them up so they would peek out of her boots.

Her friends were still getting ready so she grabbed her scarf and went down into the common room alone. She found Harry sitting by himself at the small table in the center of the room, writing something. She bent over him to see what he was working on, being slightly disappointed to see it was only homework.

“Why are you doing homework right now?” she asked. “Are you coming to Hogsmeade?”

“I am, but I’ve been needing to get this done for too long now.”

“Where’s Ron and Hermione?”

Harry shrugged, keeping his focus on his work.

“You’re all going, yeah?”

“Ginny, I’m not really listening to you,” Harry said. “I’m already having trouble concentrating.”

“Sorry.” Ginny bent down to ruffle his hair and kiss his head before leaving him be.

Harry finished about half of his work and, deeming that acceptable for now, promised himself he would finish the other half tonight. Ron and Hermione still hadn't come down, so Harry went to check what Ron was doing. He thought Hermione might be with him but he couldn't remember if she’d gone up. He got his answer when he entered their dorm room to find Ron alone, lying in bed under the covers.

“Why are you in bed?” Harry asked, standing in the doorframe.

Ron made a weird face at him like he was uncomfortable. Harry didn't see what was weird about that question.

“I was taking a nap,” he said.

“Oh. Alright.” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Ron falling asleep in the middle of the day was hardly unimaginable, but he was acting weird. Harry couldn't imagine why so he ignored it. “Well, I was going to go meet up with Draco. Are you coming with me?”

“You can go ahead,” Ron said, biting his lip. “We’ll meet you there.”

“Alright.” Harry went his own way, leaving Ron to get ready.

Ron waited long enough to give Harry time to actually leave the common room before he flipped his blanket off him. Between his legs, curled up to hide better, was Hermione. She looked up at Ron and they both giggled.

“I can't believe he didn't notice me,” she said, sitting up.

“He’s not very observant.”

“It’s for the best,” Hermione remarked, chuckling.

“I suppose we should get going,” Ron said.

“We can take our time,” Hermione smirked at him, kissing down his inner thigh. She glanced up at Ron, appreciating the pleasure that blossomed over his face with a rosy tint.

She popped her head up again when she remembered something she had wanted to tell him. “Ron, I read a very interesting article.”

“Mione, baby,” Ron laughed fondly. “You’ve got to stop bringing up your research at times like this.”

“No, this was important. It was about being transgender.”

Ron gave her a look that implied he didn't find that very important.

“I haven't read much about it,” she went on anyway. “Hardly anything. But there are some articles I found that I hope are informative.”

“That’s nice.”

Hermione frowned at him. “I want to be able to better understand and support the transgender community.”

“And I think that's beautiful,” Ron smiled, running a hand over her head. “You can start your support with an act of service.”

She gave him an irritated pout, but happily obliged anyway. Ron’s pleasured gasps were the gladly received reward for her service.

Hermione crawled off the bed to get her wand, keeping her hand on his knee while she cast a quick cleaning spell.

“Do you still want to go?” she asked, sitting beside him. She leaned down to meet him in a kiss. “We could just stay here.”

“No, I want to. Besides, Harry will be expecting us.”

Ron sat up, nestling his face into the side of Hermione’s neck. He kissed her and hopped off the bed. He took his shirt off, tossed it on the floor, and picked up his binder that was lying half-hidden beneath his bed. His binder was a light neutral color that looked natural against his skin.

Hermione found her bra in the sheets, and pulled on a white t-shirt, tucking it into her jeans. “Should I wear a cardigan? How cold is it?”

“How do I know? Go stick your head out the window and see.”

Hermione gave him a disapproving look and opted for her brown knit cardigan. She put on a scarf, too, just in case. The scarf was Ron’s, but he wouldn't be using it so it was alright for her to borrow. There had been more than one occasion where she had slept over and ended up putting on Ron’s clothes while rushing out. One time she had accidentally worn his tie instead of her own to class, but that could have been much worse. At least no one else would have been able to tell.

By the time Hermione was finished dressing, Ron had finally gotten into his binder. He threw on a sweater and smoothed out his hair a bit.

“Alright, ready?”

“Do I smell?” Hermione asked, leaning into Ron so he could smell her.

Ron sniffed her. She smelled like her regular self, like warm baked goods and autumn air. “A bit sweaty.”

“Let me run to my dorm quickly and freshen up a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Hermione left the room, and Ron went down to the common room to wait for her. He sat on the sofa, legs crossed beneath him, and idly stared at his ticking watch. Beside him, Ginny dropped onto the sofa, kicking her feet up in his lap. She wore a pout that anyone might think was of genuine upset, but that Ron recognized to be self-pitying and petty.

“What happened?” he asked her, his voice lightly teasing.

“Nothing,” she sighed.

“Why are you still here?”

“Charlotte can't find her leg warmers,” she said. “Ron, how did you tell Hermione you liked her?”

“I didn't. We just started kissing and then we were dating.” There were, of course, other components to that story, but Ginny hadn't asked for all that.

“Well, you're no help at all.”

“Alright?” Ron didn't know what she was talking about, but he didn't care enough to ask.

Finally, Hermione came back, and Ron stood to greet her. He took her arm, and she waved to Ginny before she was pulled away. Ginny wasn't left alone very long before her friends joined her and the four of them headed out together.

Ginny held Charlotte's hand as they wandered around Hogsmeade, her eyes constantly searching for Pansy in the crowd and the shops they visited. She reminded herself that she didn't need Pansy to have a good time and waiting for her to show up was weird, but that didn't stop her wandering eyes from scanning the candy shop for a familiar black bob as soon as they walked through the door.

She didn't see her, but she did see Luna. She was standing with Theo, both of them laughing and looking quite happy in each other's company. Theo was red noticed from the cold and sniffling. Ginny noticed Luna was dressed in her usual clothes. She didn't want to disturb them, but she had something to say. She went over to them, giving Theo a small smile.

“Hey, Luna. I like your outfit.”

“Thank you. Your friends can have their clothes back,” she said. “I didn't like them.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. It got a little out of hand. From now on, you should only try and get guys by being yourself.”

“I agree. And I got one, so it's alright.”

Theo gave them a questioning look, but they kept talking like he wasn't there. When their conversation started going on too long, he interrupted by tapping Ginny on the shoulder. She turned to him in question.

“I was hoping I'd see you here.” He reached into his coat, pulled out a little gold box tied up with ribbon, and handed it to her. “Your birthday gift.”

“Oh, thank you.” Ginny had entirely forgotten he had promised her a birthday gift. “It better be a good one.”

“Only the best for you, dear.”

After Ginny left, Theo smirked at Luna.

“So? You and your friends were making schemes to get me?”

“They thought if I dressed differently you would like me more,” she told him. “It doesn't make much sense now, though. If you didn't like me, why would the way I dress change that?”

“I don't know. People act like that a lot, I've noticed.” There had been plenty of times his friends acted like their way of dress would attract certain attention. “It makes sense in theory. A shallow person might value the way you dress more than they value you.”

“I wouldn't encourage it, then. I wouldn't want to attract shallow people.”

“Neither would I, Luna.”

“You don't seem shallow.”

“Of course not.”

His playful smirk met her dreamy half-smile, matching it in a way most peculiar but quite charming. Luna slid the glasses on her head down to her face, keeping her gaze on Theo.

“What are you doing?” he asked her. He was endlessly amused and interested in Luna’s eccentricity.

“Checking for wrackspurts. Just making sure. These glasses help me see them.” She pulled them off her face and held them out under Theo’s nose. “Would you like to see?”

Theo took the glasses, slid them onto his face, and searched the room. He didn't see anything unusual.

“What are wrackspurts, exactly?”

“They’re little creatures that float into your ears and make your brain fuzzy. You don't have any.”

“That's good.” He didn't know what they were talking about, but he was glad to know he didn't have wrackspurts.

“What do you do if you've got them?” he asked, rubbing his watery eyes and handing the glasses over.

“Thinking happy thoughts should help.”

“While that must be why I don't have any,” he said, smirking at her. “I’m very happy right now.”

“Me too.” She said it like she were agreeing, not so much that she was happy because she was with him like he had been implying. Theo would take that. He would like to keep making Luna happy.

“So, could you go for some pudding right about now?” he asked. “Because I certainly could.”

“I love pudding.”

“Perfect.”

He offered her his hand and she slipped hers into it, letting him guide her out of the shop.

***

Ginny had been abandoned. Not literally, she was the one who had said she didn't want to do any more shopping, so Charlotte and Felicity went off without her. Ginny didn't have the money for shopping, and she didn't want anything anyway. She’d bought one stick of rainbow rock candy and planned on saving the rest of her spending money on something to eat.

She sat on a bench, licking at her candy, and opened the gift Theo had given her. It was a pearl necklace, plain and simple, though knowing Theo probably more expensive than anything Ginny owned. She didn't like wearing jewelry very much, but she had taken a new liking to pearls. Not at all because they reminded her of Pansy.

Ginny put the necklace on and walked around a bit more. She spotted Daphne and Blaise strolling arm-in-arm through the streets, bags in their hands and laughter radiating from them. Pansy wasn't with them. Maybe she hadn't come. Her doubts were settled quite quickly when she saw Pansy some ways behind them, walking alone and looking glum. Ginny approaching her immediately cheered her up.

“I love your necklace,” Pansy said. “I thought you didn't like jewelry.”

“It was a gift.”

“Oh, well, it’s very pretty. I love pearls.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Pansy looked embarrassed and Ginny tried to backtrack. “I mean, I love that you love pearls.”

That just made Pansy confused, but she smiled, too, so Ginny took it as a win.

“Why aren't you with your friends?” Ginny asked.

“Well, I, um…” Pansy softly cleared her throat and held her head high, pushing down her nervousness. Ginny had a special talent for bringing out her worst nerves, but she was well-trained in the art of pulling the wool over eyes.

“I was supposed to be on a date, actually,” she said.

“Oh.” Ginny tried not to let any disappointment seep into her words. “Supposed to be?”

“She called it off last minute,” Pansy said. “Didn't want to be seen out with another girl it seems.”

That wasn't the entire truth, the date had been called off but it hadn't been the other girl’s doing. Pansy was the one who had second thoughts about being seen with a girl.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny sympathized. “That hurts, I’m sure, but try not to hold it against her too much. It can be frightening, having people know.”

“Yeah,” Pansy muttered.

“Unless she was mean to you. Then you can hold it against her.”

“She was certainly scared,” Pansy said. “She doesn't want people to start thinking of her differently, or to talk about her the way they talk about Harry and Draco.”

Ginny was surprised to hear this girl had opened up so much to Pansy. It made her consider they might be talking about a different fearful lesbian.

“Do you think she might be too worried about what others think?” Ginny asked.

“I think everything feels too real for her. She doesn't want to be out with a girl because that's solidifying a fear of hers.”

“The fear of being queer?”

Pansy cringed at the word, which was enough of an answer for Ginny.

“Before you go on about how it's not wrong, she knows that,” Pansy said, then added, “Probably. But it’s difficult to accept. It still feels so wrong.”

“You should let her know it’s alright to take her time with it,” Ginny said. “And it doesn't make her a bad person to like girls, but it also doesn't make her bad to have doubts or questions or fears.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” Pansy said with a grateful smile.

“Would you like to walk around a bit?” Ginny proposed. “Get your mind off it.”

“Sure. By the way, your tongue is colorful.”

Ginny poked out her tongue, trying to get a view of the rainbowed tip. “It’s from my candy,” she said, giggling and holding out the candy stick.

Pansy smiled at her, that endearing little smirk Ginny adored.

They fell into step together, the cool autumn winds blowing through their hair and stray orange and red leaves falling over their path. As it was already darkening outside, the shops were lit up with warm, inviting light. They would probably have about an hour before it grew dark.

“Do you want to do some shopping?” Pansy suggested.

“Not really. I’ve just been shopping with my friends.” Ginny didn't find hanging around in shops where she couldn't afford anything to be very fun. “But we can go if you’d like.”

Pansy nodded, knitting her brows together thoughtfully. “Do you have any money with you?”

“I was planning to use it to buy something to eat.”

“How about this?” Pansy smiled. “You treat yourself to something you want, and I treat you to dinner.” Pansy felt quite bold, she was actually asking Ginny out. Unbeknownst to the other girl, but it was practically a date.

“Oh, that's alright, you don't have to do that.”

“I would like to. If you would like to, that is. If you were planning to meet with your friends I understand-”

“No, I would love to,” Ginny was quick to interrupt. “But you don't have to pay.”

“But I’m inviting you to dinner. It would be improper for me to make you pay when I've offered.”

Ginny supposed that was true. She couldn't let Pansy commit the offense of impropriety. “Alright then.”

Pansy’s offer ended up with her following Ginny around Spintwitches Sporting Needs, pretending she wasn't bored out of her mind. Ginny’s enthusiasm as she went on about Quidditch or pointed out cool things she liked made it worth it, even if she didn't understand a word of it.

Ginny did end up leaving the store with a bag in hand, even after insisting she shouldn't or she didn't need it about everything. The girls headed to The Three Broomsticks together.

***

Ron and Hermione sat at a table, one plate of food and two dessert dishes shared between them. Hermione was staring across the restaurant at the table Harry and Draco were occupying. Hermione was observing their every move for a reason unknown to Ron.

“Why do we care what they are doing?” Ron asked, breaking a piece of bread. He scooped a spoonful of cheese pasta onto it and stuffed the cheesy chunk into his mouth.

“What do you think they’re saying?” she said, ignoring the question.

“Probably, why is Hermione staring at us? She’s so strange, she should be paying attention to her boyfriend instead.”

Hermione whacked his arm with the back of her hand. “They look like they're discussing something serious.”

“Do I look like I care?”

Hermione frowned at him. “What if they're breaking up or something?”

“Who invites someone on a date to break up with them?”

Hermione shrugged. She picked up her fork and tried their cinnamon banana bread.

“I don't like this,” she said.

“The bread or Harry and Draco’s serious conversation?”

“The bread, but I also don't like your attitude.”

“You do like spying on people though,” he said, pulling her plate toward him to try the banana bread.

Across the restaurant, Harry and Draco were engrossed in conversation, blissfully unaware of being watched.

“But if it’s supposed to grow mold, why can't you eat it?” Draco asked.

“Because it’s not the proper type of mold.”

“What’s the proper type of mold? How do you make cheese mold?”

“That's a good question.” Harry pondered over that statement. “There must be some difference. I don't recommend eating cheese with homegrown mold.”

“I can't believe cheese is made with mold.” Draco scrunched up his face at the creamy cheese spread on his plate.

“It gives it that delicious flavor.” Harry picked up a cheese-covered bread slice and took a bite. “Mmm, mold.”

“That is disgusting.”

“I thought you loved cheese.”

“Not very much now.”

“You didn't know cheese was made with mold?”

“I did, but I didn't consider I was eating something mold-flavored.”

Harry shrugged and continued to eat his cheese, using his knife to scrape Draco’s off his plate. “It's a good mold. It's not like regular mold.”

“Why is Hermione staring at us?” Draco asked, forgetting the cheese.

Harry followed Draco’s gaze to where Hermione now had her face in a menu and Ron was laughing at her.

“She just was,” Draco said. “And she was whispering to Ron.”

“Gossiping about me, I'm sure.”

“Do Hermione and Ron like me?”

Harry leaned back in his seat and looked at him like he'd just said he loved eating mold. “Bit better than I do, to be fair.”

“I'm being serious, Harry,” Draco insisted, his mouth curling downward into a genuine frown. “I know we're friends now, but I…I wasn't very-”

“Yeah, yeah, you were a massive git, but that's in the past.”

“I was a git to you, but to them, I was horrible.” Draco glanced over to Ron and Hermione, who now had their attention on Seamus and Dean’s table.

“You literally made fun of my dead mum,” Harry pointed out.

“I did?” Draco asked, shocked at the report of his own actions.

“Point is,” Harry said, leaning forward to take Draco’s hands. “People make mistakes, even horrible ones, and they can be forgiven. You're sorry, aren't you?”

“Yes, but-”

“If it makes you feel better you can apologize to them.”

“I-” Draco began his response but cut himself off. He was gaping at something behind Harry and Harry turned to see. He didn't see anything particularly shocking or exciting.

“What are we looking at?”

“Look,” Draco instructed, smirking at him.

“Yeah, not very helpful.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Pansy and Ginny are together.”

Pansy and Ginny were indeed sitting together, and now Draco and Harry were subjecting them to the same stalkerish behavior they'd earlier received from Hermione.

Pansy crossed her ankles under the table, smoothed her skirt, and smiled politely at Ginny as if they were co-workers in a meeting rather than friends hanging out. Ginny was a lot more casual.

“What would you like?” Pansy asked.

“I can order for myself,” Ginny chuckled.

Ginny scanned the menu and Pansy watched her. She tried to think of something to talk about. When had she gotten so weird? She was fine talking to Ginny throughout the summer, but all of a sudden she couldn't think of anything to say except “you're amazing, please date me.” And she couldn't very well say that.

Pansy wasn't even sure how this had started. She sort of always knew it was there, she had thought Ginny was cute for at least the entirety of sixth year, but she didn't know why it had continued and grown and turned into this. Whatever this was.

Ginny’s red hair fell over the side of her face, curtaining her cream-colored, freckle-dotted cheeks. She was so much prettier than Pansy but for once Pansy didn't mind. At first, when Pansy noticed Ginny’s beauty she felt jealous. She wanted to look like her, with long, vibrant hair, bright blue eyes, and cute little freckles. With the growing of her feelings, Pansy realized she didn't want to look like Ginny, she just wanted to admire her.

That's what Pansy did now. Admire Ginny. She admired the way her fingers brushed back the messy hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears. Her lips were drawn into a pretty pout and Pansy imagined what it might be like to kiss her.

A waiter came to their table and Ginny gave her order. Pansy had been too distracted by Ginny’s beauty to think about what she wanted so she ordered the same thing. Not suspiciously at all.

Ginny inclined her head and, putting on a sweet smile, “You alright, babe?”

Certainly not when she was being looked at like that. And being called babe? The logical part of her brain said it was just friendly, but whatever part of her brain that was overseen by her emotions was falling apart over it.

“Is it the girl thing?” Ginny asked. “I shouldn't have told you to do that. I mean, I do think it can be good, but obviously not if you aren't ready. I haven't been giving great advice lately.”

“It's fine, Ginny.”

“But you shouldn't be doing anything you aren't ready for. Just do what feels right to you,” she advised. “That's the whole point. And,” she added with a cheeky smile. “Don't be afraid to talk to girls.”

“I'm not afraid,” Pansy denied, even though Ginny’s suggestion wasn't implying she was. “I will have you know I’ve been kissed.”

“Have you?” Ginny said, tone teasing but her expression impressed. “First time?”

“Not ever, but with a girl, yes.”

“You’ve kissed a boy before?”

“Yes,” Pansy said indignantly.

“Who?” Ginny asked, a look of challenge in her eyes.

“It’s no business of yours.”

Ginny laughed and Pansy had to consciously stop herself from getting lost in it.

“Oh, yes, very funny.” She shook her head, a fond smile crossing over her lips. “Can we talk about something other than my romantic endeavors?”

“Sure. We can talk about Luna and Theo’s.”

“Can we?” Pansy said, holding her hand out. “I didn't even realize he liked her.”

Ginny naturally took her hand the way they always did when they had their ‘girl talks.’ The conversation came easily after that. They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and trying not to think about their own ever-growing fondness for the other. In Pansy’s mind, if she could have Ginny like this forever, romantic or not, she’d be alright.

Chapter Text

Pansy laced up her boots in a hurry, wanting to get away as fast as she could. One reason was that she and Ginny had been walking to the Great Hall together for breakfast every morning and she didn't want to miss her, and the other was because Theo wouldn't shut up about Luna Lovegood. And not interesting stuff that Pansy might like listening to. No, he kept telling her about Crumple Horned Snorkwhats and Glimping plimpies or whatever weird things Loony believed existed.

Theo was sitting on the sofa, a cup of strong herbal tea in his hands and a pair of the weird glasses Luna always wore on his head. He was currently telling Pansy how dirigible plums kept ‘wrackspurts’ away.

“It’s very interesting, isn't it?”

“Sure.”

“There are so many fascinating things that go unnoticed by us every day.”

“That's nice. Don't you two shag like normal couples?”

He frowned at her, and his evident discomfort made her feel guilty. She knew how he felt about that kind of stuff.

“That's terribly rude,” he said, covering any hurt her comment might have caused with disdain. “I hope you don't find any frogs in your tea today.”

She probably deserved them. “Are you coming to class today?”

Theo’s sock-clad feet were leisurely propped on the table. He was wearing his fluffy orange pumpkin socks that he only wore when he was staying in. Oftentimes Theo was sick or in pain and couldn't bring himself to do much else but lie in bed. He couldn't get away with skipping too many days if he didn't want to get in trouble, but sometimes his friends covered for him and shared their notes or brought him homework so he could rest.

“Can't,” he said. “I need to save my energy.”

“For what? Is Loony taking you to find forest dwellers?”

“Don't call her that,” Theo scolded. He pulled his glasses off to give her a proper scowl. “Why are you so rude?”

His irritation at her might be genuine, but his question wasn't. Pansy was well accustomed to what’s your problem’s from her friends. It was never in a serious manner.

“Do you treat Ginny like that?” Theo remarked. “No wonder she doesn't like you.”

“I- that’s-” Pansy tried for a comeback but she couldn't find one. Theo was probably right anyway. She was mean, she’d tried telling Ginny that herself. It was no wonder why Ginny wouldn't ever want to be with her.

Theo shrugged and Pansy stormed out of the common room. She brushed past the other Slytherin students in the hall, not much caring who she shoved out of the way in her anger. She didn't find Ginny, just headed to the Great Hall by herself.

“What’s up with you?” Draco asked when she sat down beside him. She offered no more than a glare in response.

As if her day couldn't get worse, on her way to class after breakfast she ran into Luna. She skipped over to her, completely ignoring the obvious scowl on Pansy’s face that should have scared her away.

“Hello, Pansy,” she greeted calmly. “Are you angry?”

So she wasn't ignoring it, she just had zero perception of social cues.

“No,” Pansy curtly replied.

“Is Theo alright? He wasn't at breakfast.”

“He’s saving his energy.” Pansy realized she hadn't ever found out what Theo was saving his energy for.

“That’s a good idea,” Luna said. “Would you give him this?” Luna handed her a small glass bottle filled with a brownish-pink powder.

“Thanks. I'm sure this will cure his wackspurs.”

“That’s not how that works,” she said. “And it’s actually for-”

“I don't care,” Pansy interrupted. “I was joking.”

“Oh.” Luna didn't sound hurt or offended at all. But she did let out a small laugh that was clearly not caused by genuine amusement.

If Pansy didn't already think it she saw now how different Luna was from her own friends. She didn't understand Pansy’s humor and she had probably been the victim of cruel jokes enough times in her life to not know that Pansy meant no actual harm.

“I’m sure Theo will appreciate this,” Pansy said in an attempt to make amends. “He really likes your weird stuff.”

“I know,” she said. Pansy thought she was happy about it, but her expression didn't convey her enthusiasm very well. “I've never had anyone to talk to before.”

“Oh. Uh-” Pansy wasn't surprised at this information, but hearing Luna say it so casually like she'd grown so accustomed to it that it didn't even hurt struck something in her. Something that, deep down, Pansy did in fact possess. “That’s kind of sad.”

“It’s alright,” Luna said. Pansy couldn't decide her facial expression or her tone, so she couldn't tell if it really was alright or not.

“I have Theo now,” she added.

“Yeah, you do.”

Luna had Theo because she was nice. And Theo was nice. Less so than Luna and not very much in general, but he was nice to her. That's why they were happy together. Pansy accepted then and there that her fate was to be doomed for the rest of her lonely, miserable life.

Luna gave her an inquisitive look. She reached into her bag and pulled something out that she held in her closed fist. She held her hand out to Pansy and Pansy offered her palm. Luna dropped a smooth, yellow-orange crystal into her hand.

“My mum had a lot of crystals,” she said. “I don't think I understand them as well as she did, but I'm still learning. This one is supposed to help clear your mind clouds,” she explained. “You look like you've got a cloudy head. I don't have any better ones on me, but if it's not helpful I can show you my collection.”

“No, it’s- this is great,” Pansy said, looking down at the stone. “Thank you.”

Luna nodded in response.

“It matches your ribbon,” Pansy said, holding it up to Luna’s hair. Her long curls were separated in two pigtails, one tied with an orange ribbon, and the other tied with a light blue one.

“That’s cute. I didn't notice.” Luna glanced at each of her shoulders trying to see her hair ties. “These are my two favorite ribbons.”

“They're pretty,” Pansy complimented. She didn't like them, but Luna seemed pleased and Pansy was trying to follow along. “Is that why you wear them together?”

“No. The matching ones to both of them were taken a while ago, and I never did find out where they were.”

“Taken?”

“My housemates used to hide my things as a joke. A joke to them, not to me,” she clarified.

Pansy got that much.

“I've lost a few things like that.”

The easy way Luna talked about it made Pansy wonder if she realized how awful that was.

“Luna, that's really mean.”

“I usually found my things.”

“That's not the point.”

“They don't do it anymore,” she reasoned.

“Alright, but you know that's not right?”

“I know, Pansy, but the only thing we can do against people who don't like us is keep being ourselves,” Luna spoke like she was reciting a quote she’d heard.

“I suppose that's true,” Pansy agreed, though it wasn't sitting right with her. Not just the bullying, but the fact that it was other Ravenclaws. Pansy had bullied many people in her day but not her own house. Housemates were supposed to trust, stand up for, and look out for one another.

“I've got to go,” Luna said. “Or I’ll be late for class.”

Pansy would also be late for class and as Luna strolled down the hall Pansy ran in the other direction.

Pansy had potions with Draco, and she couldn't focus at all, something he noticed.

“Don't put your bad vibes onto me,” he said. “You're going to upset my potion.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Draco stirred his potion precisely, waiting until he could let it sit for a moment before turning to Pansy.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing, I just hate myself.”

“Relatable. Why?”

Draco peered down into his cauldron. The potion would need to sit in sunlight for six hours to steep, but there wasn't any sun in the dungeons. Perhaps he could ask Harry to leave it near a window in his room.

“Lots of reasons.”

“Such as?” Draco scrawled a short note for Harry.

Pansy shrugged.

“I know what will make you feel better.”

“Do you?” Pansy asked doubtfully.

“A party.”

“Who’s having a party?”

“Theo and Luna,” he said.

Those were the last two people she would have guessed. She wasn't sure this was a party she wanted to attend.

“Invited a few Ravenclaw to the dungeons for a little get-together,” Draco went on. “I thought it was strange and I wasn't planning on joining but we could turn it into a real party.”

That might actually lift her spirits. “Alright. Invite the lions, won't you?”

Draco added that to his note for Harry. “Of course,” he said, folding his parchment into a bird and sending it flying toward Harry. It landed on his head and slipped forward onto his lap. He looked back at Draco before even opening it and gave him a subtle but fond half-smile. Draco blew him a kiss.

“You two are gross,” Pansy said.

Draco ignored her, smiling to himself as he cleaned up his workspace.

Later that day, when Pansy was on her way to lunch she was stopped by Ginny. Ginny tried to stop her anyway. Pansy heard Ginny calling her name but she kept walking forward, pretending not to hear. Ginny caught up to her right outside the Great Hall.

“You couldn't hear me?” she asked, sensing what Pansy was doing.

“Hear what?” she said, fiddling with the little butterfly on her necklace.

“Nevermind. I missed you this morning. Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine. I was busy,” she lied.

“Oh. Alright.” She sounded suspicious more than disappointed.

Pansy was lying, and Ginny knew she was lying. Pansy knew that Ginny knew, but Ginny didn't know why and she wouldn't be finding out. Pansy realized avoiding Ginny because she would never want to date her wasn't exactly a genius plan or a nice one but she was distressed and she needed to remove the cause.

“We should have lunch together,” Ginny suggested. “How we used to.”

“I didn't think about how we wouldn't be able to do that once it got cold.”

“That's why we should now. Before it gets even colder.”

“Should we kidnap the others?”

“You get Draco, I’ll get everyone else,” Ginny said.

So much for avoiding Ginny.

They gathered their friends and met at their spot, sitting in a spread-out circle in the grass.

“So?” Ron said, spooning mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Why are you having a party?”

“I don't know,” Draco answered.

“Mmkay.”

“It’s in your common room?” Hermione asked. She picked up a pepper from her plate only to move it to the other side. She used her spoon to carefully scoot her beans away from her spinach.

“Yeah,” Pansy said. “So be on your best behavior.”

“I always am,” Hermione smiled at the same time Ron said, “I have no best behavior.”

“As long as you don't get us in trouble it's fine,” Draco said.

“You're inviting us,” Ginny pointed out. “If you get in trouble it's your own fault.”

“I’ll be blaming you for it nonetheless,” he replied. “I should have brought a knife,” he said, digging the side of his fork into his potato.

“Here.” Harry handed him the knife from his plate.

“Why do you have no class?” Draco said, wiping the knife on the side of Harry’s plate to remove the excess butter covering it. He proceeded to cut his potatoes into tiny bits.

“It’s just butter.”

“There are breadcrumbs on it,” Draco said, offended by the lack of elegance.

“Oh, la te da Mr. Fancy,” Harry mocked. “You can't eat a breadcrumb?”

“The fact that you don't understand goes to show your lack of proper etiquette.”

“Who taught you manners?” Pansy said. “I’m going to guess you skipped that life lesson.”

“Harry was raised by people akin to trolls,” Ron said. “Only worse.”

“Were you?” Draco asked. He knew Harry lived with his aunt and uncle but he didn't actually know anything about them.

“Were they muggles?” Pansy questioned.

“Yes, but that's not why they were bad.”

“No, but it explains a lot about you.”

“I hope you are referring to my lack of magical knowledge.”

“Among other things.”

“My parents are muggles,” Hermione announced. “They're great. And they have manners.”

“What were your aunt and uncle like?” Draco asked Harry.

“I don't really want to talk about them.” Harry looked down at his plate, dissecting an olive.

“Why not?”

“Draco,” Ron interjected, hitting him on the arm. “You've got a prying problem, mate.”

Draco was about to snap back, but he figured Harry would have good reason to avoid talking about his family. He wouldn't bring it up anymore, but he secretly hoped Harry would tell him on his own. Because he did have, as Ron had said, a prying problem and he was curious.

Ron handed Draco a piece of bread that he'd yet to touch. “Do you want this?” he asked.

Draco knew as soon as he saw Ron’s plate and the piece of bread he'd left sitting on it through half their meal, that it would be offered to him. Draco had always accepted the offer because he knew Ron was well-intentioned, but it felt odd and rehearsed now. He didn't need or want the bread, and Ron was probably only offering it out of habit.

Ron awkwardly retracted his hand, seeing as Draco wasn't taking it.

“I would, yes,” Draco said quickly, taking the bread. He didn't want to eat it, but he liked that Ron was so caring of him. It wasn't a gesture he'd easily forget. Especially knowing that Ron wasn't exactly known for his thoughtfulness.

Ron went on eating like the gesture was nothing to him. And it wasn't, really. The reason it started was that he and Draco didn't have much of a relationship outside of mutual animosity and he wanted to show him he cared about everything that was going on. He was accustomed to many older siblings filling his plate when they thought he wasn't eating enough and he'd done the same to Draco out of an adopted habit.

He didn't mean to be a mother hen, but it was a family-inherited instinct. Draco didn't know all that, but it felt like family to him too.

***

Harry slipped his hands into the crooks of Hermione and Ron’s arms as they headed down to the dungeons together. They held each other like they were going to get lost at any turn, walking quietly like they were afraid to wake a beast. Even though they came for potions it felt strange coming down here to hang out like they were welcome and it was normal.

The dungeons were grimy and cold, but there was an elegance about them. Torches lit the way, casting a soft glow over the halls. Tapestries covered the walls, fairytales and legends of their house, exhibiting their pride and power, on full display. If ancient gloom and thousands of years worth of lore was to your fancy then it was a pretty nice place.

Ginny, along with Neville, Dean, and Seamus followed behind them. The boys were tagging along because Harry had accidentally let slip to them where they were going. Surely a few more people wouldn't be a big deal.

They made it to the Slytherin common room and Harry used the password Draco had given him to let them in. Harry wasn't exactly a fan of parties. There were many people and too much noise, and he usually ended the night with a headache and a bad mood. But since he didn't feel particularly horrible tonight and Draco had promised it would be chill, he agreed to come.

They stepped into the common room together. It was cold and had a pervasive smell of must that was masked in the sharp scent of wintergreen. The room was mostly full of Slytherin but a decent amount of Ravenclaw had shown up for the fun. There were groups chatting loudly, music playing, and too many bodies moving around the room.

Harry looked around hoping to find Draco, but Luna found them first. She was wearing a short white dress with colorful embroidered depictions of animals, vegetables, and nature scenery. She held out a tray of cupcakes iced with shocking blue icing.

“Cupcake?” she offered.

Ron and Hermione helped themselves, Neville complimented Luna’s dress, and Harry kept searching for Draco. He found him sitting on the floor in a circle of Slytherin. Harry stood to the side until Draco noticed he was there and came over to him.

“You alright, Haz?” he asked, bringing his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Fine.”

Harry would much rather sink into Draco’s hug, burying his face in the side of his neck, and disappear than be in this crowded room. But Draco didn't stick around long. Harry could feel the energy radiating off him and he bounced away to join his friends, talking loudly and hollering in a way Harry had never seen Draco behave. It was kind of nice, seeing him let himself go like that, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do the same.

Dean came up to him, handing him a drink. Harry brought it up to his nose to sniff it. It smelled like firewhiskey, only not as strong.

“It’s lemonade,” Dean informed.

Harry took a sip, the distinct burn of the whiskey barely masked by the sugary sour lemon.

Harry spent half the night sitting alone on the sofa, drinking whiskey lemonade, and watching the party. At some point, his drinks turned into regular firewhiskeys and his people-watching turned into him staring blankly at them.

Someone dropped down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

“Ya wanna play a game?” Seamus asked, giving him a shake.

Harry groaned, pushing him away. “Don't shake me.” He brought a hand up to his mouth.

Seamus cackled with laughter and pressed a hand to Harry’s forehead. “Ill already, mate? Come play.”

“Play what?”

Seamus dragged him up by the arm, sloshing his drink, and brought him into a large circle. Most of the party members were spread around the room watching, while the group where Seamus had brought Harry, where his friends were also gathered, were standing around Dean and Hermione as they spread a mat out on the floor.

As a kid, Harry had seen advertisements on the telly for this game plenty of times. Twister. One year, Dudley had gotten it for Christmas but he had never let Harry play with him. He didn't care now. It didn't seem like a very fun game, falling all over someone else while people laughed at you.

“Who wants to play?” Hermione called. “I’ll be the- this person.” She picked up the spinner thing that decided where each player had to arrange their limbs.

Hermione seemed a little bubbly. Or Harry guessed she must be otherwise she wouldn't be enjoying herself so freely. He was glad she was having fun for once.

“You don't want to play?” Ron asked her. He was decidedly sober. Probably good to have one who wasn't drinking.

Harry wasn't planning on getting drunk, but maybe it was good for him, too. Maybe he should have fun for once, like Hermione, and if he needed a few drinks to do that then he didn't see the harm. He wasn't getting absolutely sloshed.

“Oi!” Dean shouted. “Who’s going first?”

“I will!” Ginny volunteered excitedly.

She was holding a full cup and Harry wondered how much she'd been drinking. She seemed fine. She gave Harry her drink to hold and he finished it off then went to refill his own. When he returned to the game he saw Ginny had been joined by some Ravenclaw boy he didn't know.

Pansy stood beside Harry, watching the duo intensely before the game had even begun. Not that anyone should be watching a game of Twister that seriously. She looked like she needed a drink.

Hermione sat cross-legged in front of the mat. “Right hand red,” she called.

They hurried to get a good spot.

“Left foot blue.”

More scurrying, this time more complicated as they each tried to find a space for their foot without losing their beginning spot. Sometime during the game, Ginny ended up holding herself up on all fours, face-to-face with the boy fully propped up above her.

Pansy was slowly losing it as she watched. The Ravenclaw had brushed against Ginny several times while they played. He touched her waist, her leg, her hand. Maybe Pansy was overreacting, of course, they had to touch to play this stupid game, but she was convinced it was deliberate. There was no reason to be doing all that.

Ginny didn't seem to notice. Or didn't mind. She laughed and shrieked in good fun, and seemed to be altogether enjoying herself but Pansy couldn't be more relieved when their turn was over. Ginny won, of course. It only got worse from there as Ginny played another round, this time with a Slytherin boy. He was even worse, not just touchy but flirty.

Ginny just laughed like it was a joke while Pansy scowled fiercely at him. He should be more careful, she had easy access to him. After that, Ginny played one more round with yet another boy. They seemed to be lining up for a chance. Weirdos. She didn't win that one and Pansy thanked the stars she didn't have to watch that anymore.

It was unfair of her, she knew, to be jealous. She didn't own Ginny. She wasn't even her girlfriend. And Ginny didn't like boys so it wasn't as if anything was going to happen. But unfair or not she felt a strong urge to administer malicious hexes on each of those boys.

Pansy scanned the room to see where Ginny had gone and found her standing with The Ravenclaw. He had a disgusting flirtatious smile on his face and Pansy didn't know what he was saying to her but she imagined it was equally as nasty.

Pansy focused her attention back on the game in an attempt to ignore it, watching like it was an intense Quidditch match and she didn't want to miss a moment. It was entertaining enough at least.

Ron had just won against Neville, who claimed he cheated, and he and Draco stepped up to the mat to face each other.

“I hope you are prepared to lose, Weasley.”

“You must be ready for humiliation making statements like that, Malfoy.”

Draco narrowed his eyes in challenge and unlaced his shoes, putting them neatly to the side. Ron kicked off his trainers and they situated themselves on either side of the mat. They stared each other down with lighthearted sneers, and Hermione started the round by calling out, “Left foot green.”

Draco and Ron slipped across the mat, throwing verbal and occasionally physical jabs at each other until they both tumbled onto the floor. Pansy couldn't tell what had happened but Draco was yelling at Ron, also accusing him of cheating.

“You cheated!”

“I did not!” Ron denied. “You're just bad at this game.”

“You're a cheater. You cheated twice.”

“How did I cheat?” Ron’s smile was purely villainous, making some believe he did cheat.

He looked to Hermione for help. “Hermione, defend me.”

She peered up from her spinner with a disapproving look reminiscent of McGonagall. “Did you cheat?”

“Never,” Ron gasped.

“Ginny!” Hermione shouted. “Ginny, is Ron a cheater?”

“What?” Ginny asked, entering the crowded circle.

“Is Ron a cheater?” she asked again.

“For sure. Don't trust him.”

“She’s lying!” Ron accused. “I've never cheated in my life.”

“Either way, you both lost,” Hermione said. “Who wants a turn?”

“Can I play again,” Ginny asked.

“We should do four people this time,” someone suggested.

“Ooh, yeah,” Ginny agreed. “Pansy, do you wanna play?”

She didn't really, but Draco wanted to redeem himself and pulled her and Harry into their game. Pansy pulled her boots off, holding Draco’s shoulder for balance.

“Should we wear socks?” she asked. “Isn't that slippery?”

“I don't want to see any of your feet,” Harry remarked, taking his place on one side of the mat.

Draco stood across from him, looking at him like their old snitch-catching rivalry was being brought back from the dead for this game.

The game started, and Harry could hardly focus his mind or limbs. He heard shouts of red, yellow, and blue, and followed them the best his fuzzy mind could. There was grumbling, giggling, and Draco’s shouting was right in Harry’s ear.

Pansy stretched her leg out, placing it beneath Harry’s bent knee. He was crouched in a very odd position beneath her while she bent over in a spread-out downward dog-esque pose. Harry could see up her skirt and, being the gentlemanly friend he was, reached up to tug it down a bit.

“Who's touching my bum?” she demanded, looking at him through her legs.

“Sorry, that was me,” he said. “You’re in my face.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and they shuffled around again. Ginny’s body was somehow stretched across the mat while still not touching the ground, Draco kicked Harry in the shin, and Pansy was halfway on top of Ginny.

“Potter, you have to move!” someone shouted at him.

He tried but he couldn't even remember what Hermione had said.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron called. “Blue. Left hand blue.”

Harry put his hand right beside Ginny’s, a spot that luckily wasn't too difficult to attain. Cheering and giggling erupted from the crowd. Draco came face to face with Harry at some point, smirking and raising his eyebrows.

“Oh my, Potter, we must stop meeting like this.”

Harry groaned in response.

“Alright, baby?” Draco laughed, nuzzling his face.

“Don't be gross!” Ginny yelled, looking up at them from her uncomfortable-looking bent backward pose. It was no wonder she kept winning, she was doing just about anything to keep herself up.

“How are you so flexible?” Pansy said to her.

Draco burst into the giggles, along with many others in the room, and Ginny’s face reddened. Harry noticed how her whole face grew bright, including her ears which reddened the most just as Ron’s always did when he was embarrassed.

Their next move ended with Draco’s hand slipping, sending him out of the game.

“You pushed me!” he accused Pansy.

“Did I?” she smirked evilly.

Ron raised an eyebrow at Draco. “Interesting how you keep blaming your failures on others.”

“Shut it, Weasley.” He dropped into the spot next to Ron on the sofa. Ron handed him a drink.

“Harry, move,” Hermione called out. “Or you're out.”

Pansy, not very discreetly, pushed Harry so he fell backward onto the mat. “He’s out,” she said.

Harry didn't much care about being out or Pansy’s cheating. He sat with Draco, nestling into his side. He stole his drink and Draco only chuckled, stroking his hair and letting him finish it off.

Dean got down by Hermione, whispering something in her ear with a mischievous grin on his face. Seamus was beside him looking like he was also in on whatever scheme they had. Whatever they were saying couldn't be heard, but Hermione shoved Dean away from her. She denied them but did give a giggle and started spinning a bit slower, focusing more on the mat.

In a turn of completely unrelated events, Pansy ended up underneath Ginny, propped up on her arms with Ginny all but straddling her.

“I don't think I'm going to make it,” Pansy said, giggling. “My arms aren't as strong as yours.”

“That’s alright. Most people aren't as good at Twister as me anyway.” This was the only time she had ever played it in her life, but she was deciding that to be true.

They moved their hands and Pansy’s breath quickened as Ginny’s arm moved down her side. Ginny seemed to be having a lot of fun while Pansy held her breath with every movement.

“My hands are sweaty,” Ginny laughed.

Pansy was able to move into a position that didn't hurt her arms, but it wasn't much better because she had Ginny’s back in her eyeliner, her shirt riding up and exposing her freckled lower back. Pansy’s eyes stuck to the soft dimpled skin at the bottom of her spine and her lips parted subconsciously.

Ginny moved backward into Pansy, carefully so she wouldn't fall. Ginny could feel Pansy’s chest pushing against her back with every breath. This wasn’t the closeness she’d expected to get from this game. On the instructions, there were two people depicted with their legs and arms twisted in knots. That was not happening. Not that Ginny minded getting close with Pansy.

Ginny looked to her left where Hermione, Dean, and Seamus were huddled around the spinner and giggling. Those cheeky fuckers were doing this on purpose. Ginny came face to face with Pansy again, faces flushed and legs tangled in a far less amusing way than Ginny would like.

Pansy had an almost pained expression on her face and with their next move collapsed on top of Ginny, trapping her legs beneath her. Pansy quickly pulled away and stood up. She made it to the sofa, wedging herself between Harry and Luna before Ginny even stood up.

Pansy smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs tightly. Harry drowsily dropped his head on her shoulder. The game moved on and Pansy watched Ginny once again fall into conversation with The Ravenclaw. He was a tall, curly-headed brunette, and the little diamonds in his ears reflected the lights around him. He wasn't bad looking, and his glittering smile didn't help.

Luna followed Pansy’s gaze. “You should tell her,” she said.

Pansy side-eyed her, partly out of annoyance and partly so she could keep staring at Ginny. “Who told you?”

“Theo.”

“Of course he did.”

“Just tell her you have feelings for her,” Luna said simply. “That's how Theo and I got together.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Maybe it wasn't so different. But there was no way Pansy would ever be brave enough to admit that.

What Pansy should have been doing was reminding herself that Ginny didn't like boys, something she knew for a fact, but all she could see right now was a better option in a cute blue sweater standing before Ginny. Her final straw was when she saw him touch her. It was only on the shoulder, but still. Ginny moved backward only for him to follow.

Pansy got up and before her brain caught up, her feet were carrying her over to them. She put her arm around Ginny’s waist.

“Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Ginny had hardly answered when Pansy started pulling her along, guiding her out of the common room.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“Yes. I mean, no, I just…”

“Needed some attention?” Ginny giggled.

Well, yes. Ginny’s attention, to be specific.

“Who was that guy?” Pansy asked.

“I don't know him, but he said his name was Alric. Why?” She giggled delightfully, squeezing Pansy’s hand as she slipped their fingers together. “I thought you didn't like boys?”

“I don't, but he seemed to like you quite a bit.”

“Are you jealous?” Ginny grinned.

“What? No! Of course not. Why would I be?”

“Because I’m your new best friend and you're heavily possessive.”

“I- I’m not,” Pansy stuttered.

“It’s alright,” Ginny said, pulling her lip between her teeth and grinning. “I don't mind.”

Pansy blushed furiously and assumed, simply to excuse her boldness, that Ginny must have drank too much.

The girls walked along the dim corridors, hand in hand. Pansy felt that familiar warm, fluttering ache in her tummy, traveling through her body in both directions. She needed to reign herself in. For Merlin’s sake, what was wrong with her? It took only a sideways glance at that bright little smile to answer that question.

Pansy wanted to say so many things to Ginny, but none of them were right. Ginny made light conversation, giggling like everything was funny to her, and Pansy just listened. And wished.

Ginny wished, too, but she was feeling more confident about it. She wasn't drunk, but a few drinks had emboldened her. Ending up alone with Pansy, what were the odds. One thing Ginny prided herself on was her courage. And her spontaneity. Why not follow where the night took them?

The thing that wasn't her strong suit was strategizing. She didn't want to come off too strong for fear of scaring Pansy off. But if she just lured the bait, insinuated something, and Pansy took it, then she’d know it was okay.

Ginny stared at Pansy’s profile, admiring the strong structure of her face, the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the way her thick lashes looked when her eyes closed. Her cheeks were a soft pinched pink, her thin lips pulled into a perfect, jet-black line. Ginny’s gaze lingered on her lips for far too long. She nearly stumbled into a wall as they made a turn. Pansy caught her by the arm and she quickly righted herself.

“Are you drunk?”

“Course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I wouldn’t want to be drunk when I did this.”

Oops.

Apparently, it only took a few drinks to loosen her tongue.

“Did what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

So much for not coming on too strong.

“What?”

“Oh, uh, I mean, we don't have- I’ll just-”

“No! I mean, I- why do you want to kiss me?”

Ginny shrugged.

“You don't know?”

“I mean, look at you.”

Maybe not her best choice of compliments. It did make Pansy flush delightfully though.

“Do you really?”

“Really what? Want to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn't mind,” she said as if she weren't the one to ask in the first place.

Pansy didn't believe her. She couldn't let herself believe her. As much as she wanted to kiss Ginny right now, she couldn't allow herself.

“How’s this then?” she asked, finding her pride and hiding her trepidation at what she was about to propose. “If you still want to kiss me tomorrow morning, you know where to find me.”

Ginny smirked at her and Pansy wondered what she'd just gotten into, challenging a Gryffindor. “Deal.”

They went back to the common room together and discovered the party playing probably the worst game to witness after their previous interaction. Actually, possibly one of the worst games to ever be invented.

Spin the bottle.

Pansy used to think it was fun, entertaining to watch people get all out of sorts or giggly having to kiss someone else. But she thought it was just plain stupid now. There was one person in this room she wanted to kiss and about three she’d be alright with. For a game.

Draco was sitting on the floor trying to convince Harry to join him. On his left were Ron, Hermione, and Luna, and on his other side were Blaise and Daphne.

“Come on, Harry,” he begged, tugging on Harry’s hand. “One round?”

“I don't want to kiss anyone,” Harry whined, shaking Draco off him. He didn't want to play this gross game on the off chance that he'd kiss Draco. “I’ll probably end up kissing Seamus or something.”

“What's wrong with that?” Seamus said.

Harry lightly kicked his thigh. “Nothing personal, mate.”

Seamus frowned up at him. “Hm, well, I think I’ll go first.” His gaze fell on Draco, throwing him a smirk and flirty wink. “Wonder who it’ll land on.”

Harry knelt down, pulling Seamus into a headlock. He let out a yelp, and the group laughed.

“You best be stepping off my man, Seamus.”

“I don't want him.”

The rest of the room erupted into gasps, giggles, and murmurs.

“You’re actually together?” one Ravenclaw asked.

“As if you didn't know,” Draco retorted, but the tiniest of smiles appeared on his face, hidden as he looked downward.

Harry ruffled Seamus’ hair and pushed his head away, crawling into the circle. “I’ll have one go.”

He put his hand on the bottle, keeping it there the entire time he spun instead of giving it a real go. He directed it at Draco and stopped. “Would you look at that?”

Draco shook his head fondly and crawled forward to meet Harry in a kiss. There was another eruption of laughs and snickering remarks. Being mostly Slytherins who couldn't hate their own, it wasn't very mean.

Dean touched the back of Seamus’ hand and smiled up at him with soft eyes. Seamus met his eyes and gave him a crooked grin.

Ginny gave Pansy a bright but suppressed smile.

Hermione looked up at Ginny and Pansy. “Do you want to play?”

“No, thanks,” Pansy said. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s not even that late,” she heard Blaise call after her, but she ignored him, walking down the long hallway toward their dorm rooms.

She heard the patter of footsteps behind her and turned to see Theo.

“You alright?” he asked, pulling her into his side.

“Fine. Only tired.”

“What were you and Ginny doing?”

“Nothing interesting,” she said, pressing her face into his chest. “Sorry for saying you weren't normal earlier. You aren't, but for many other reasons than not liking sex stuff.”

Theo chuckled. “That’s alright.”

He squeezed her shoulder and then let her go. “I’m a bit tired too,” he said. “I might be off to bed after I say goodnight to Luna.”

“You're a proper thing now?”

“A…thing, yes. What kind of thing, I'm not sure.”

Pansy nodded in understanding, and sighed. “Too real.”

Theo gave her a questioning look, but she just waved him off. Thankfully, he let it go.

“Night, Pansy,” he said.

“Goodnight, Theo.”

That night, Pansy turned in her bed with restless thoughts of Ginny, and girls, and kissing.

Chapter Text

Pansy waited at the usual spot where she met Ginny for their daily stroll to breakfast. She waited as long as she could before she had to go. She didn't really want to go to the Great Hall just to confirm that Ginny had purposely abandoned her. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe she was running late because she couldn't find a shirt. Maybe she was being held up by something or someone. Maybe she was eaten by a flesh-eating slug.

Pansy walked alone down the halls, feeling rejected and pathetic. She wondered if it was obvious to anyone else. She felt like it was. It seemed every glance, every whisper, every giggle, was due to some inside joke or judgmental thought that her schoolmates had about her.

She wasn't alone for too long, being unwillingly joined by Daphne and her friend Scarlett Nettlebed. Astoria tagged along, hanging on Daphne’s left. The girl was basically attached to her older sister’s hip. Pansy often wondered if she had friends of her own.

“So,” Daphne started. “You've any news for us, Pansy?”

“Me? Why would I?”

“She means about Ginny,” Scarlett said with an excited smile.

What news she was excited to hear was a mystery to Pansy. Did they know too? Maybe Theo had told everyone. Did they think something had happened last night?

“Ginny? What would I know about Ginny?”

“We thought because you were friends she would have told you about her boyfriend,” Daphne said.

“Boyfriend? She has a boyfriend?” When did Ginny get a boyfriend?

“Well, that's what we’re wondering,” Scarlett said in an eager whisper.

“We saw her talking with Alric Patridge the other night,” Daphne said. “They looked close. Potential boyfriend maybe?”

Not likely.

“Oh, you know how Ginny is,” Scarlett said, giggling.

“How?” Pansy asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” she said with an air of amusement that Pansy didn't understand nor return. “That they're probably having it off in a supply cupboard right now.”

“What?” Pansy exclaimed.

“Before she's on to the next one,” Daphne remarked.

“Well, what's wrong with that?” Pansy asked. “Maybe she simply can't find a boy who suits her tastes.”

“Oh, we aren't judging,” Scarlett said. “It’s all in good fun, Pansy.”

“Yeah,” Daphne said. “If Ginny wants to run through the boys here, we’ll happily take the free entertainment.”

Pansy was sure Ginny hadn't been with more than three boys. That was hardly “running through the boys here.” And so what if she had? Daphne and Scarlett were treating it like some scandalous affair had been exposed to them. Pansy knew they weren't the only ones who received their daily dose of amusement from the romantic relationships of others.

Pansy understood, she liked prying into her friends’ relationships, but spreading rumours that were completely untrue about someone else’s endeavors was uncomfortable, not entertaining. More so because it was Ginny.

“Do you think Patridge would want a girl who's been around as much as her?” Scarlett asked, whispering been around like it was some disgraceful secret.

“He seemed to.”

The girls went on to discuss how cute Patridge was and how he could get any girl he wanted. Apparently, he had also been with half the girls around here. Allegedly. Maybe those rumours about him weren't any more true than the ones spread about Ginny. They were just as believed but for some reason, Scarlett and Daphne didn't treat it as some secretive shame on his part.

“I’ve got to go,” Pansy muttered and pulled herself away from the other girls, walking hurriedly down the hall.

She skipped out on breakfast and went out to the courtyard instead. It wasn't very cold out, but it had been raining all of last night, and the clouded sky let hardly any light through. The air was damp and the fading leaves were finally falling enough that parts of the ground were covered in orange and yellow piles.

Pansy took a seat on the nearest bench, crossing her ankles and kicking her feet at a slow, steady pace. She was thankful for having no class today. Her day was already ruined and she didn't want to see or talk to a single soul.

Seeing as her day was already so unlucky she supposed it made sense that it had gotten worse.

She got a decent ten minutes to wallow before someone approached her quiet spot. She looked up and the absolute horror of seeing who it was could be compared to little.

Alric Patridge.

“Hi,” he said with an annoying little smile. Just as shiny as it had been last night. He sat down beside her, not bothering to ask. “I’m Alric.”

“Pansy Parkinson. I know who you are.”

“Do you?”

Ew.

“What do you want?”

He gave her a little laugh as if she had said something funny. “Thought you looked lonely.”

“I was actually enjoying some peace and quiet before you showed up.”

“Am I disrupting you?” Still with that stupid smile.

Pansy didn't answer, only gave him a look to suggest he most certainly was.

“Would you like me to go, Pansy?”

Pansy looked at him for what felt like the first time. She hadn't exactly had the time or lighting to study his face the other day. His hair was long enough that it curled around his soft jaw, his eyes were the green-blue of a sunlit lake, and his features were graceful and smooth. He looked boyish, soft, feminine almost. The way his sweater fell over his hands and his legs were crossed at the ankles gave him even more of a girlish touch.

“No,” she answered.

He smirked at her. “Didn't think so.”

What?

“Are you trying to woo me?”

He gave her a weird look and laughed. “If that's what you want to call it.” He leaned closer, his fingers brushing hers. “Would you like me to?”

“I thought you liked Ginny.”

He laughed a bit awkwardly. “She wasn't exactly interested,” he said. “Why? Would you be?”

Interested? In him? Hardly.

His face was so close to hers, too close. She thought about rejecting him now, pushing him away, or leaving, but she didn't do any of those things. Instead, she thought about what Ginny had said about experimenting. Pansy may not like boys, but maybe she could get used to it the way Ginny had suggested she get used to girls.

What she did next was a bad idea, and rude at that, but Alric was waiting for an answer. So Pansy kissed him. He seemed to be enjoying it far too much. She didn't like it very much, but it was just a mouth. Everyone had one of those and there wasn't much difference between a girl’s and a boy’s.

When they pulled away Alric had a gross smile on his face. “So you are interested.”

Interested in what? Kissing boys? Becoming one of Alric Patridge's famous escapades? Not at all.

Pansy gave him a little smile. And that should have been the end of it, really, she should have apologized and told him that, no, she wasn't interested. But she didn't. She let him become something to distract her from the thing she really wanted.

Pansy didn't care much about letting Alric steal kisses and send her weird, cheeky notes during class. It was annoying, but that was her own fault. She felt bad for leading him on, but not that bad. She didn't care about his feelings that much.

She didn't hear any more talk about Ginny and Alric, which she liked. She heard far too much about Ginny and random boys that she may or may not be hooking up with. She resisted the urge to snap at everyone who found that a great topic of discussion.

Pansy didn't talk to Ginny for a couple of days. Ginny made no effort to speak to her either. Pansy wondered if she could avoid Ginny until she graduated. Her crush should be gone by then.

Unfortunately, Pansy had to face Ginny before that when they unintentionally but inevitably found each other in the halls on the way to breakfast one morning. Ginny had approached her, falling into their usual step like they hadn't been avoiding each other.

“Hey,” she greeted, forcing down her nerves. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“About what?” Pansy said with a bit too much eagerness that she hoped Ginny would miss.

“Last weekend,” Ginny said. “I shouldn't have tried to kiss you like that. Or asked you, I guess. That was, um, weird. Yeah, anyway. Sorry.”

She rubbed her hands together, her eyes flickering back and forth from Pansy to anywhere else. “You don't have to avoid me. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“That’s not- I wasn't avoiding you.” She was, actually, and for that specific reason, but not because she felt uncomfortable or didn't like it. No, it was because she would have liked it too much and, as Ginny had said, it didn't mean anything to her.

“You weren't? So I brought up that humiliating event for no reason.”

Pansy laughed. “No reason to be embarrassed about wanting to kiss me. Many do.”

Pansy loved that she and Ginny could talk and laugh so easily like normal best friends even when something awkward had occurred between them. It was something Pansy never wanted to lose.

“That reminds me,” Ginny said, her voice full of amusement. “I heard you were seeing a guy. What's that about?”

Pansy quickly debated whether or not she should lie to Ginny. Not quickly enough because Ginny was already onto her.

“Pansy?” Any amusement was replaced with accustation. “What did you do?”

“I may have accidentally, on purpose, kissed this guy, and then he thought we were a thing and now he won't leave me alone.”

Ginny gaped at her, then twisted her face in thought, and after going through at least five different emotions while processing, she said, “Why did you kiss him?”

“To try it,” Pansy guiltily admitted.

“Did you do it because you thought you might like it or because you hoped you would?”

“Yes.”

The way Ginny looked at her, with sadness worse than her disapproval, made Pansy feel a thousand times worse about the situation than she previously did.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Pansy really had no right to be upset right now seeing as this was entirely her fault. “I do feel slightly bad for leading him on.”

“Slightly?”

Pansy shrugged. “I don't want him to cry or something.”

“Just tell him you're not into him. You two can't be that serious.”

That was true. He’d be fine anyway. She doubted she was much to beg for.

“Who is he?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, um,” she cringed from the pure embarrassment of having to say his name. “Alric Patridge.”

Ginny gave her a seriously unamused look. “That’s who you chose? Seriously?”

“He made the offer,” Pansy defended herself.

Ginny laughed, tipping her head downward and smiling at the ground. It made Pansy wish she’d kissed her that night. She could have spent this week kissing Ginny instead of Alric.

“I should have kissed you,” Pansy said.

Ginny came to an abrupt halt, but she regained herself quicker than Pansy ever could. Ginny was always cool about things. She didn't get flustered the way Pansy did.

“You could make up for it now,” she said with a cheeky smirk. “That could be your excuse for Patridge.”

“I'd rather not tell him I'm leaving him for you.”

Ginny’s smirk widened into a grin. She stepped closer, and Pansy could smell her sweet floral scent. “Tell him you prefer redheads.”

“That might do it,” Pansy said, her breathing quickening.

“If you don't mind, I’ll take that kiss now.”

Pansy wanted to, she did, she wanted to fall into Ginny, kissing her until she felt just as breathless and wonderfully shaken as Pansy always did around her. But she couldn't. Because she couldn't be Ginny’s joke or a conquest of some sort.

Pansy stepped back, reinviting the space between them. Ginny’s ears reddened the way they did when she was embarrassed. As much as Pansy wished she could avoid that, she would rather Ginny be embarrassed for a moment than embarrass herself by coming on to someone who didn't genuinely want her.

“Sorry,” Ginny apologized.

“It’s fine, Ginny. You don't have to kiss me or pretend to want me.” Pansy didn't know why Ginny was doing that, but she assumed it was some kind of meaningless laugh between friends.

“Maybe I want to kiss you.”

“Ginny,” Pansy said seriously. “I've had it hard enough being a girl who likes girls. I don't want to be your joke.”

Ginny looked almost sad at that, but her smile returned when she said, “Who said I was joking?”

Pansy’s mind was persistently nagging at her, insisting Ginny didn't want her the way she wanted Ginny and listing every reason there was to believe that. But the sweet, neglected heart pounding in her chest was saying 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.

Pansy came close to Ginny again and waited for her to completely close the space between them. She never got a chance to because the girls were interrupted by the sudden appearance of their Professor.

Professor Snape stood before them, showing up like he'd come out of thin air. He cleared his throat and fixed the girls with a disapproving look.

“I suggest you two head to breakfast,” he said. “Unless you would prefer attending your classes hungry. And please refrain from showing off your intimate business in the halls.”

“Yes, professor,” Pansy said, trying not to glance at Ginny for fear she'd start laughing. “Sorry.”

Snape watched the girls scurry away and went on to search the halls for more wandering students. It was never a surprise, yet always a question, when he witnessed things like what he found now, Harry Potter sprinting through the halls with Draco on his heels. The boys nearly tripped over one another as they came to a stop.

“Hello, Professor,” Draco smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. His face glistened with sweat. “Good morning.”

“Save your pleasantries,” Snape said. “No running in the corridors.”

Snape’s eyes flickered to Harry, then down at his uncovered arms. Harry hid them behind his back as quickly as Snape averted his gaze.

“Why are you two not at breakfast?” he asked.

“We were going for a run,” Draco said. “We got a bit caught up.”

They typically went for their runs earlier in the morning, but sometimes they distracted each other, getting lost in silly conversation and ending up taking a leisurely stroll back to the castle.

“I expect you won't be late for class because of this,” Snape replied. “And clean yourselves up.”

Draco smirked and opened his mouth, a cheeky remark on his tongue.

“Mind your manners, Draco,” Snape warned.

Draco didn't say anything, but he did allow himself a little laugh. Then his expression turned serious, and Harry observed the way he tapped his fingers against his thigh like he always did when he was nervous.

“Have you heard from my father?” he asked Snape.

“I have not. But perhaps if you had attended breakfast you could have checked your mail.”

There was a glimpse of hope in Draco’s eyes, and Harry wanted to get away from Snape as soon as possible so he could ask Draco what news he was waiting for.

“Let’s go get changed,” Harry said, slipping his arm into Draco’s. Draco gave Snape a little wave and they hurried off.

“It’s so weird how you and Snape are besties,” Harry said with a backward glance. Snape was watching them as they walked away.

“I’ve known him my whole life. He’s my godfather, didn't you know?”

The shock on Harry’s face confirmed he did not know that.

“He is? I knew he was friends with your dad but that’s, like, basically your family.”

“He came around a lot when I was little,” he said. “He was the only person I had to talk to.”

Harry tried to imagine having a conversation with Snape that didn't end with one of them wishing harm upon the other. Though if Snape had been his godfather he supposed it would feel different.

“I didn't have friends when I was little either,” Harry said.

Draco gave Harry’s arm a squeeze. “I had adults and a house elf.”

“Dobby?” Harry questioned.

“He was the only one who would play with me.” Draco laughed but it caught in his throat, trapped under a real emotion. “Though I suppose he didn't have much choice.”

“Do you know he works here?”

“Does he?” Draco didn't exactly keep up with the Hogwarts kitchen staff.

“I’m sure he wouldn't mind a visit.”

Draco wasn't so sure. He avoided discussing the matter further by suggesting something he knew would distract Harry. He didn't have to ask, only give him a challenging look for their race to pick up again. They dashed through the castle, running round corners and up stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Harry got there first, but Draco wasn't far behind.

“Why are you so fast?” Draco panted.

“I’m just naturally better than you,” Harry said. “But you're getting stronger.”

“True,” Draco said, excitedly as if he hadn't noticed before. “I don't even feel like I'm going to die.”

“See, you’ll be back to playing Quidditch in no time.”

Draco gave a content smile. He extended his arms above his head, stretching out his tired body. Harry’s eyes fell down to the peek of skin that was exposed as Draco stretched, the fair white skin of his waistline. He was wearing Harry’s t-shirt, the one that had Potter displayed across the back.

Harry felt something like a burning sensation stirring in his chest. And a feeling he might describe as possessiveness, but not fully. It was more like the knowledge that Draco was his, not because he owned him, but because he knew him in a way others didn't. It was something private and special just between the two of them.

It made the heat in his chest rise and a dull tingle wash over his face. He wanted Draco. He had him, but he wanted him. He didn't want anything in particular, but he was filled with a sensation he'd never felt before. A physical sensation that was almost- No. But maybe.

A groan from Draco freed him from his thoughts. “Why did I come up here? Now I have to go all the way downstairs.”

“I’ll grab you some breakfast,” Harry offered. “You have Transfiguration, yeah?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Draco hurried off before Harry could say another word. He watched him until he couldn't see him anymore then rushed to get dressed. He made it to the Great Hall with enough time to grab something for Draco to eat. He probably could have stayed longer and scarfed something down but he wasn't in the mood to eat anyway.

He went to the Slytherin table to ask if Draco had received any mail. Blaise gave him a letter and a look of suspicion.

“Where’s Draco?” he asked.

Harry looked up from the croissant he was wrapping in a napkin and saw that more than Blaise’s suspicion was directed toward him.

“What do you think, I've gotten rid of him and come to tell you over breakfast?”

“Have you?”

Harry side-eyed Blaise and slipped the letter and food into his bag. “You lot are all weird.”

“Mmhm,” Blaise murmured, glancing at Harry’s bag. “Off to feed your captive, I see.”

“Yep. No use to me if he starves, yeah?”

The group looked at him like he was being serious so he gave them an eye roll on their level of dramatics and left. He didn't find Draco until after their first classes but they had a bit of free time afterward to eat together.

Harry dug Draco’s letter from his bag and gave it to him. It was bent in one corner, but otherwise intact. Draco eagerly opened it, but his hopes died as soon as his eyes landed on the handwritten greeting.

“What? Is it from your dad?” Harry asked.

“It’s from mum,” Draco said, defeated.

“What were you waiting for?”

Draco gave him a saddened look that made Harry wonder if he should already know what was wrong.

“He hasn't talked to me since I yelled at him about being gay.”

“Maybe he’s processing it,” Harry suggested, trying to sound hopeful. He didn't believe Lucius would even consider allowing his son self-expression or comfort, but Draco didn't need to hear that right now. He probably already knew it too.

“Are you going to be disowned or something?” Harry asked.

“Not unless I try to marry you. They’ll likely keep ignoring it.”

Harry searched for something comforting to say but there weren't many reassurances he could give that Draco wouldn't disregard as a blatant lie. They both knew Lucius and Narcissa wouldn't readily, or even hesitantly, accept him.

“Do you want to come with me to Hagrid’s later?” Harry asked.

Draco looked up from the letter, his face twisting in a reluctant, almost frightened, manner. “I don't think Hagrid likes me very much.”

“If you aren't rude he’ll like you just fine.”

Draco's nerves didn't settle with this reassurance. But he agreed anyway. It wasn't like he was afraid of Hagrid, not exactly, more that he was embarrassed for the way he had previously treated him.

The rest of the day was tortuous for both boys. Harry tried his best to focus through classes, Hermione and Ron assisting him and sharing their notes as they always did. Not that Harry wanted Ron’s notes, but he appreciated the gesture. Draco couldn't concentrate either, his mind only on imagined conversations he could have with his father.

As soon as classes finished for the day, the four of them, along with Pansy and Ginny, headed to Hagrid’s together. They slid down the steep grassy slopes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione running ahead of the others. It was warm today so they'd foregone wearing jackets.

They approached Hagrid’s hut and Ron unceremoniously banged on the door. There was a loud shuffling from inside and Hagrid opened the door, greeting them with cheerful bellows. Draco sent a cautious glance around as he stepped in.

Hagrid gave him a warning look and Draco was immediately on guard, but it dissolved into a hearty laugh, leaving Draco in confusion. Harry nudged his shoulder, giving him an ‘I told you so’ smile.

“Have a seat,” Hagrid urged. “Go on now. Would ye like somethin’ to eat?”

He didn't wait for an answer before serving them tea cakes with jam and butter, fresh blackberries, and steaming cups of tea. It was all served on huge, colorful pieces of plateware. Hermione and Ron sat together in Hagrid’s armchair, Draco and Harry sat in the same seat, and Pansy sat on Ginny’s lap.

Pansy and Ginny hadn't gotten a chance to talk, or kiss, all day, only send each other timid or flirtatious glances. Pansy tried to keep her attention off of Ginny, not wanting to display that to the rest of the room, but Ginny watched her with rapt attention.

She watched the way she swept her silky bangs off her forehead, her long, delicate fingers tucking the longer strands behind her ears. Pansy’s blunt bob always looked chic and well-managed, but her bangs looked like they were ready for a trim. Her hair was tucked back by a wide black headband studded with pearls.

Pansy absently trailed her fingertips down Ginny’s arm, stopping on the hand that rested on her thigh, just above her knee. Pansy’s short, perfectly manicured nails glided across the back of her hand. Her hands were soft, not like Ginny’s, calloused and tough from Quidditch playing and a lack of a skincare routine. Everything about Pansy’s appearance was put together and done up to perfection. Her skin was perfect, her brows were thin and shaped, and her lips were glossy and lined.

It made Ginny self-conscious about her own appearance. She had never particularly disliked the way she looked, she didn't give it much thought, but seeing how nice Pansy always looked gave Ginny the feeling she should be doing more. Pansy probably didn't want a messy-haired, scraped-knee, dirty trainer-wearing ruffian around her.

Ginny watched Pansy’s lips purse and eyes narrow, and she followed her eyes to see it was Draco she was glaring at. He directed his teasing gaze toward Ginny. She just rolled her eyes at him. She was in far too good a mood to be annoyed by Draco.

Ginny finally diverted her attention from Pansy, listening in on the conversation Harry, Ron, and Hagrid were having about Quidditch. She absently moved her fingers, rubbing the spot where her hand rested on Pansy’s leg.

“Draco,” Hagrid said, making the boy look up suddenly like he'd been caught. “Harry told me ya can't play.”

Draco smiled politely but shot Harry a sideways look. Harry smiled apologetically.

“A decent seeker yeh made,” Hagrid went on. “Ya know if yer looking for somethin’ to help build that strength back up I got a garden full a vegetables need to be pulled. Not to mention the weeds.”

“Vegetables?” Draco asked, his politeness replaced with a distasteful frown. “Like, in the dirt?”

“Where else would they be?” Hagrid chuckled. “Little bit a that and you’ll be back up on yer broom in no time.”

“Oh, um.” Draco felt rude refusing Hagrid’s kind offer, and he also couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

Hermione saved him from having to answer by offering up her own services. “We can help if you need it,” she said.

“We?” Ron asked, and Hermione nudged his side. “I mean, yeah we’d love to.”

“If ya all help it’ll be done in no time,” Hagrid said. “If yeh want, that is. I don't mind doin’ it myself.”

“Draco will help,” Harry said, nudging Draco’s arm with his elbow. “You said earlier how strong you were getting.”

“You said that,” Draco corrected.

“Did I?” Harry grinned. “Well, it's true. Tell us when you need it, Hagrid.”

Draco did not sign up for that, but he supposed it could score him some good points with Hagrid. Harry considered Hagrid’s role in his life a very important one, which meant Draco naturally wanted to prove himself worthy in his eyes. Even if that meant touching dirt.

Hagrid proved to be more pleasant company than Draco ever would have thought. For someone of such low status and unrefined nature, he was actually quite enjoyable to be around. Draco noticed how comfortable Harry seemed to be around Hagrid. He liked seeing him so at ease.

Draco stayed quiet during most of the conversation, only speaking if he was asked a question. He wasn't as nervous as he was when he'd arrived, but everyone else beside him and Pansy talked like they were old friends and he felt he didn't quite fit in. Pansy didn't talk much either, but she busied
herself with staring at Ginny and eating tea cakes.

“This jam is amazing. Did you make this?” Pansy asked Hagrid.

“Sure did,” Hagrid said proudly.

“Did you try this?” Pansy asked Ginny, holding the cake in her hand up to the other girl’s mouth. Ginny had already had more than one, but she tried it anyway, smiling up at Pansy.

“Try one, Draco.”

“You're acting like you've never had jam before,” Draco said jokingly, taking one from the plate she pushed toward him. He took one bite and set it down.

“It’s good right?”

Draco nodded, eyes widened for dramatic effect. It wasn't as incredible as she was making it sound, but it tasted alright. Draco preferred his treats chocolate.

“Have as many as yeh like,” Hagrid said, pushing the plate closer to Pansy. He took the liberty to place another teacake on Draco’s plate. “I made plenty,” he said, assuring Draco he could also eat as much as he wanted.

Draco knew Hagrid was only being polite and a tad over-friendly, but he wondered what else Harry might have told him. Maybe he informed him why Draco couldn't play Quidditch. If he had it most likely wasn't on purpose, but Draco disliked the idea of people knowing so much about him when he hadn't disclosed that information himself.

When the group had to leave, Harry and Hagrid spent another ten minutes saying goodbye. Draco had been with Harry almost every day since the school year had begun so he could safely make the assumption Hagrid and Harry hadn't spoken in a while. Or hadn't spoken much. Maybe they'd only been speaking about Draco and now that he was in the room they could finally discuss other topics.

Pansy and Ginny stepped outside, wandering through the pumpkins Hagrid had grown, and Ron and Hermione were sent outside after getting a bit too comfortable in their shared space.

Hagrid gave Harry a tin of teacakes to take with him.

“Thanks fer comin’, Harry,” he said, clasping Harry’s much smaller hand in his large one. “And bringin’ yer friends round. Should bring ‘em more often.”

“Sorry I haven't been seeing you much,” Harry apologized. “I haven't been feeling very well.”

Harry and Draco both knew not feeling well meant Harry didn't possess the mental strength to bring himself to do anything, even visiting his friend. Hagrid seemed to understand well enough, having grown quite used to Harry’s low mood.

“Hope yer feelin’ better now,” he said, sounding hopeful more so than encouraging like he meant it to be.

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly.

When they were heading out, Harry stepped down into the garden, and Hagrid stopped Draco with a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Harry told me what happened with yer old man,” he said quietly, sounding a bit awkward. “He didn't mean to, he felt pretty bad about it. Don't be upset wit him fer it.”

“Alright,” Draco said, unsure why Hagrid was bringing this up.

“I just wanted yeh to know,” he looked at him so sincerely that Draco believed him before he even said anything. “Ya always got a place here.”

Draco’s quiet “yeah” in response did nothing to convey how deeply he would hold those words inside him. Or how badly he needed to hear them. It wasn't the same as his parents saying it, but it was a substitute he would take.

As he walked back to the castle he wondered if Hagrid knew anything about Harry’s no-good aunt and uncle. Maybe he had said the same thing to Harry years before when he’d first visited him. Perhaps taking in strays was a specialty of Hagrid’s.

Draco was glad for it. As much as he longed for his Dad to finally write him back, to say anything at all to him, he was grateful for somewhere to go in the meantime. Or in the event that one day he didn't have anywhere else.

Chapter Text

Ginny had been feeling nervous and testy all morning. She still hadn't kissed Pansy and now that it felt like a suspended promise it was all she could think about. She had done herself up today with the help of her friends.

Ginny’s look wasn't much of a makeover, only a slight change for attention-drawing purposes. She wanted Pansy to notice her and see that she was more than a messy, dirty boyish girl. Not because she disliked the way she was, only to draw attention to certain aspects of her that didn't get enough time in the spotlight.

She wasn't that boyish, she liked having long hair, talking about romance, wearing flowery perfume, and flipping through a magazine while her friends painted her toenails. It was just that she didn't only like that stuff, and she didn't dress girly, so she'd been deemed boyish.

Pansy was quite her opposite, and Ginny wanted to appeal to her. So she had slicked her long hair into a high ponytail, glossed her lips, and had Daisy do her eyeliner. She pulled her skirt up a little higher the way they always did when they were hoping for a wink from a certain boy.

Ginny walked proudly, if a bit uncomfortable, down the halls. She hadn't seen Pansy that morning, she’d sent her a note saying Theo needed attending to for some reason or other. Ginny hoped he was alright, but she was a bit peeved. During lunch, she spotted Pansy from across the Great Hall nursing Theo’s head on her shoulder.

On her way to the library to retrieve a book she needed for Potions, Ginny bumped into someone, but it wasn't Pansy. It was just Ron.

“Why are you going to the library?” Ginny asked.

“Why shouldn't I be?”

Ginny shrugged. “Didn't know you were familiar with the place.”

“I’ll have you know, I was going there to study.” He crossed his arms, turning his offended face away from her.

“No, you weren't.”

“No, I wasn't,” he said, turning back to her with a laugh. “No, I wanted to ask you something.”

Ginny was about to ask him what he wanted, but she noticed something. “How did you know I was here?”

“I, uh, don't know,” he said and quickly averted further questioning. “Anyway, why are people saying you slept with that doofus Ravenclaw guy? I take divination with him, he’s a huge fool.”

“You take divination?”

“What, yes! I’m rather good at it for your information.”

“No way,” Ginny said in playful but not feigned disbelief. “Are you really?”

“Well, somewhat. But that's not the point.”

“Right.” Everyone was putting in their opinion about Ginny’s promiscuity. It wasn't a foreign problem to her by now, but it was an irritating and hurtful one.

“I spoke to him at a party if that's who you're talking about.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so stupid around here?”

“Good question. You date a few guys and all of a sudden you're a passed-around slag.”

“Don't let it bother you, though, yeah?”

Ginny gave him a tight-lipped nod. A bit easier said than done. “You don't think that?” she asked. “That I'm a, um, passed around slag?” she quoted herself.

“No, no, I don't- that doesn't matter. It shouldn't. As long as you're, you know, being safe and that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at his shoe that he was scuffing against the floor.

“Right, yeah. Mhm.”

They exchanged uncomfortable looks before Ron was off. Neither of them wanted to dwell on the unspoken fact that Ron actually cared about his little sister.

Ginny went into the library to find her book. She ran her finger across the spines of the potions books as she walked down the section. She tugged at the waistband of her skirt, adjusting it. It was uncomfortable wearing it pulled so high on her waist. She didn't like that she had to wear a skirt everyday instead of the easier and more comfortable option of trousers.

She adjusted her ponytail, too, smoothing it out and tightening it. She silently vowed to never let her friends do this to themselves or another girl ever again. It was too much maintenance and it only made Ginny feel irritable rather than cute. She undid her hair, letting her long locks sweep over her shoulders.

While searching for her book she found something much better.

Pansy.

Perhaps Ginny’s short skirt had summoned her. Pansy smiled at her, coming up to stand beside her. She didn't say anything, her attention on the bookshelf before them. She did let her eyes wander to Ginny’s hand that trailed over the books.

“You painted your nails,” she observed. “You acted like it was torture when Hermione and I tried to do your nails.”

During the summer, Pansy and Hermione had taken to painting each other’s nails, something Ginny always turned down when they invited her to join. She was awful at doing them and she didn't see the point in doing hers if they were only going to end up chipped within a day.

The only excuse Ginny could come up with was, “I just wanted to.”

“Alright,” Pansy said, a confused little smile on her face. Her eyes dragged over Ginny, top to bottom, observing her.

“Why is your skirt pulled up?”

“I- it’s not.” It very clearly was. She’d been told off by Mcgonagall for it earlier.

“I know what you're doing,” Pansy said, her tone not an ounce short of teasing. “You’re trying to get my attention.”

“I am not,” Ginny denied. The heat creeping up to her ears didn't help her case. She hoped she didn't look as red as she felt.

“You are. I would know, I've seen it done many times, Ginny,” she said with an air of professionalism. “I’ve witnessed many of those “this will make them notice me” makeovers. Just so you know, they only work for bad reasons. If you're looking for a relationship anyway.”

“I wasn't- I mean, I was only-”

“You wanted to impress me?” Pansy smirked. “I can't say it's not working, but it already has been.”

Ginny tried to regain her composure, wanting to match Pansy’s lighthearted flirting. “Has it?”

“Of course. A shorter skirt wasn't going to change much.” Her eyes fell down to Ginny’s exposed legs. “Not that I mind it.”

“I- yeah, that was stupid.”

“We’ve all been there. I have, anyway. I wouldn't recommend telling others to do it, though,” she said. “It’s probably not something we should keep up, is it?”

“No,” Ginny laughed weakly. She still felt bad about making Luna feel like she shouldn't wear her own clothes or let her hair down for a boy. Even if she did end up getting a nice boyfriend out of it.

“It’s funny you made Luna do that,” Pansy said. “Theo doesn't even notice stuff like that. A nice pair of tits is just a chest to him.”

“Oh, so we were doing something hurtful and useless. Nice.”

“She’s fine. She obviously didn't take it too seriously.”

“How do you know about that anyway?”

“Hermione.”

Ginny didn't remember telling Hermione. She very well could have assumed. It wasn't unlike her to make such accurate guesses based on observance.

“Now I just feel silly,” Ginny said, pulling her skirt down to sit low on her waist.

Pansy laughed, sweet and delightful to Ginny’s ears. “That’s alright. I've been feeling silly for months because of you.”

“Months?”

“Um, no.” She fiddled with the edge of her robe.

Ginny stepped closer to her. Pansy was taller than her by a good two inches.

“You've been pining after me for months?” she smirked.

“No!” She peered into Ginny’s eyes, a familiar heat traveling down her body. “I mean, yes, actually I have. I don't know why I'm pretending I don't like you.”

Ginny giggled and took Pansy by the hands, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve actually liked you for months, too. I just didn't realize.”

“Do you remember when you came to visit Draco when he was in the hospital wing? And he was asleep but I was there.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, not sure where this was going.

“You’d never talked to him, he was mean to your friends, the only thing he'd ever said to you was probably a passing insult, but you wanted to know that he was okay. You even offered to stay there until he woke up just to ask him yourself.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Ginny asked.

“Because,” Pansy said, bringing one hand up to hold Ginny’s chin. “That was the first time I ever thought about kissing you.”

“You were thinking about kissing me while your friend was in critical condition?”

“If I let that poor fool’s ailments get in the way of my romantic life I’d never get a girlfriend. Besides, I meant that seeing you care about him made me like you even more.”

“Even more?”

“I already thought you were cute,” she said. The “obviously” went unspoken but it was there.

“Well,” Ginny said, pulling Pansy in by the waist. “You’ve waited long enough, don't you think?”

“Months of torturous longing,” she replied.

“So, can I kiss you yet?”

“Whenever you want.”

Ginny felt like kissing Pansy would burst some imaginary fragile bubble they'd let take up space between them. It felt like something she couldn't touch, couldn't ruin, but she wanted nothing more.

She pushed her lips against Pansy and felt the other girl gasp against her mouth. Pansy’s mouth was warm and soft. She tasted like vanilla ice cream and fresh mint. She kissed Ginny eagerly like she wanted to taste every bit of her.

Pansy pulled away suddenly, surprising Ginny. “Your lips are sticky,” she said.

“Sorry,” Ginny apologized, embarrassed. She wiped a hand over her lips. “It’s this gloss.”

“A good gloss shouldn't be sticky.”

“We can't all afford the top lip gloss brands,” Ginny said.

“I think it's a worthy investment. Especially if-”

“Oh, shut up,” Ginny laughed and pulled her into another kiss.

Pansy didn't mind the interruption, welcoming it gladly. She had been waiting so long for this and it was finally happening. All her fantasies were morphing into realities. She had Ginny right here in her arms, kissing her for the first time ever but not the last.

When they pulled apart Ginny requested Pansy come watch Quidditch practice after dinner.

“But Quidditch is so boring.”

Ginny frowned, sticking her lip out in a renowned pout. Paired with her wide puppy eyes, how could anyone refuse? Being the baby girl of the family, it was a skill she knew how to use well.

“Fine,” Pansy sighed.

Ginny smirked and kissed her again. “Good.”

“I’ll be there,” Pansy promised.

She kissed Ginny once more before they had to return to their original task. Ginny found her book rather easily, shared a few more quick kisses with Pansy and left the library feeling the exact opposite of how she'd started her day.

That evening, Pansy joined Draco and Hermione on their walk to the Quidditch pitch for practice. They sat in the Gryffindor stands, Pansy taking a seat nearer to the pitch while the other two sat further back.

Pansy spotted Ginny on the ground, strapping on her shin guards. To get her attention, Pansy put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. It was a skill she was quite proud of but never showed off due to how ‘unladylike’ it was. Ginny whipped her head around, eyes landing on Pansy. She smiled and playfully poked her tongue out.

From behind, Draco watched her with an amused expression. “I think Pansy’s been out of her natural element for too long,” he said to Hermione. “She’s losing her propriety.”

“Good,” Hermione said. “She should. And so should you. You shouldn't think so highly of yourself that whistling too loudly is a criminal offense.”

Draco chuckled. “True. I think at this point I've disgraced nearly every rule my family has ever upheld.”

“As you should.”

“Imagine what they'd think if they knew I was a Quidditch girlfriend now.”

“You've been promoted,” she grinned at him. “This is the life, Draco.”

Hermione propped her feet up on the seats in front of her and turned the page of the book in her hand. A bag of caramel popcorn sat beside her. The flannel she was wearing was far too big for her but even if that didn't give it away, Draco had seen Ron wearing it plenty of times. She looked perfectly content, and as much as Draco enjoyed playing he had to agree, this did seem like the place to be.

“Popcorn?” Hermione offered.

“Thanks,” Draco said, reaching for a kernel. “What are you reading?”

“It’s a muggle book,” she said dismissively. Seeing as that didn't quell Draco’s interest, she told him more. “It’s a romance novel. Do you like romance books?”

“Sometimes. What’s it about?”

“It’s about a woman who lives a structured, tidy business life, no-nonsense type, you know. And she meets a- do you know what football is?”

Draco shook his head.

“It’s a muggle sport,” she said. “You kick a ball around. She meets a football player and he's her complete opposite. Loud, feisty, carefree, all that.”

Draco listened intently, quite interested in learning the format of muggle romance novels.

“They have to work together and she's got this complicated history with football, but she has to work with the team because of her business,” she went on. “And they obviously fall in love, and, well, I haven't read the entire thing but they should learn how to accept themselves and each other. And it’s spicy,” she giggled.

“Spicy?”

“You know, smutty.”

“Is that what you call it?” he said, laughing.

“I didn't realize that wasn't a ubiquitous term.”

“Spicy,” he repeated, trying out the amusing term. “Alright.”

Hermione showed him the cover of her book, pink with little hearts around the words. There was a depiction of a tall, athletic man in tiny shorts holding what Draco assumed was a football and a tan-skinned, long blonde-haired woman in a blue pantsuit. The title read ‘Blair Bainbridge and The Mortifying Ordeal of Being In Love.’

“If you want, when I'm finished reading it I’ll let you borrow it.”

“I would like to see what a muggle book is like,” Draco said. “Have you ever read a wizarding romance novel?”

“I assume they're much like our fantasy books.”

“What does that mean?”

“Muggles have books about magic, but it's all in a fictional sense.”

“Strange,” Draco mused. “Do you have any books like that?”

“I have two more books, they're all romance,” she said. “One is fantasy. You can read all of them if you'd like.”

“I would. I have two that you could borrow.”

“What are they about?”

“One’s about a wizard who’s forced into helping aid a girl of very limited magical abilities on her quest. It’s adventure and romance. He doesn't like her all that much at first so it's interesting.”

“A little enemies to lovers,” she said, smirking.

“They aren't enemies, exactly. He’s grumpy and mean, but he's just bitter because everyone’s scared of him and his bad reputation. He might get more friendly, though. I don't know, I've not finished it either.”

“Sounds like Professor Snape,” she said.

Draco gave her a wide-eyed stare and he would have been smiling if not for his fallen-open mouth.

“Ew, why would you say that? I’ll never be the same ever again.”

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I would like to read that, by the way. What’s the other?”

“The other one is creepy.”

This immediately sparked Hermione’s interest. “Creepy how?”

“It’s an old book my mother gave me. It’s from the seventies.”

“Ooh, retro.”

“It’s about a witch and these two mad men both want her. But one wants her because of power and what he can use her to get and all that. The other wants her because he's a stalker creep.”

“Is this supposed to be a romance?” Hermione asked, looking too hopeful.

“Kind of. A twisted romance.”

“Is it spicy?”

“It has some spice in it.”

“A little kick.”

“Yes,” Draco laughed.

“Do you like spicy?” Hermione said. “All of mine are except one.”

“Spicy is fine,” he said, still laughing about the word.

The two of them spent the rest of practice discussing books and laughing to each other as Ron and Harry made attempts to impress them with their skills. Rather Ron tried to impress Hermione and Harry tried to show him up. Ginny did the same to Pansy, and Draco thought being a Quidditch girlfriend was, if not exciting, a lot of fun.

***

Hermione felt it immediately, the undertone of brewing secrets and humour as she walked through the halls, the snickering and whispers behind her in class, the crumpled note tossed at her head that she didn't dare read. No one else seemed to notice right away, making her think it was something directed solely at her.

That is until Ginny noticed it too. She sat down beside Hermione during lunch, looking like she was preparing to hold a business meeting. Hermione knew what they were about to discuss, but she also had no idea. She hoped Ginny was here to enlighten her.

“Why is everyone saying you and Draco are together?” Ginny said.

Whatever Hermione was expecting to hear, it wasn't that. She gaped at Ginny, Ron nearly spit out his drink, and Harry, the only amused out of them, said, “Mione, you've stolen my man?”

Ron glared at him and he promptly shut up.

“I did no such thing,” Hermione said. “Where did that come from?”

Neville supplied them all with an explanation. “You were allegedly giggling together during Quidditch practice, and you were seen leaving Draco’s dorm together. That's what I heard, anyway.”

Both of those things were true. Draco had brought Hermione into his room to show her his books. She'd taken the two he'd said she could borrow along with a book about ancient pureblood customs that she thought would be an interesting read. Obviously, there was nothing remotely scandalous going on, but the way Ron and Harry were looking at her now said they didn't think it so obvious.

“I didn't do anything,” she assured, annoyed that they'd even question it. “He was giving me books. Honestly,” she huffed.

Harry’s expression lightened and he chuckled. Ron didn't look anymore at ease.

“You don't actually believe that, do you?” she asked. “Ron?”

“Of course not,” he retorted.

“If it's any comfort,” Harry said. “Draco doesn't like girls like that.”

Hermione glared at him and Ron took no visible comfort from that.

“Ron, you know that's absurd,” Hermione said. “Are you actually upset?”

“I’m not upset,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

Hermione reached out a gentle hand to touch his arm. “Ron.”

“It’s fine. It doesn't matter,” Ron insisted. He stood up, letting Hermione’s hand fall. He slung his book bag over his shoulder and stalked away, ignoring Hermione calling after him.

“Hermione, stop,” Harry whispered.

She looked at him confused and he subtly glanced around the room so she would do the same. She saw several pairs of eyes on her and she could practically hear the whispers. To the unknowing onlooker, it seemed like she and Ron had just had a confrontation.

Hermione turned around to find Draco looking at her in confusion. He looked upset and she guessed he'd already heard what was going on. Hermione sighed, dropping her head in her hand and staring at the entrance doors that Ron had stormed out of.

Ron had meant to go outside to sort himself out and try and get a little studying out of his free time. Except studying was bad enough regularly and nearly impossible when you're upset. Ron wasn't upset with Hermione, it was everyone else’s stupidity that was getting to him. It felt like as soon as they'd stepped off the train all anyone had done was harrass them. So not all that different from their typical school year, but he was being pushed to his limits.

Ron couldn't even be alone because two Hufflepuffs decided to keep testing him by very loudly snickering and ‘‘whispering’’ about him. Why were they even out here? He meant to ignore them, but they were talking about Hermione and Draco and he was either going to throw up all over his books or confront them. He could have walked away, but that idea didn't occur to him.

“Do you mind?” he said sharply. He shut his books, picked them up, and approached them.

“What’s the matter, Weasley? Finally been dumped, have you?”

“Not that it's any business of yours, but no, I haven't.”

The boy snorted. “Makes sense. You’re probably a pushover, aren't you?”

“Pardon?”

“You’d let a girl do whatever she wanted to you, wouldn't you?”

The other Hufflepuff laughed. “He has to. It's not like anyone else would ever settle for him.”

“At least I'm not stupid enough to believe every bit of gossip I hear,” Ron retorted.

“Why shouldn't you? I mean, you really believe she wouldn't go for a real man if she got the chance?”

Ron clutched his books tightly in his hand, willing himself to stay calm. Or at least somewhat composed.

The boys weren't done just yet.

“Or maybe she’s just a slut like your sister.”

That line snapped the last string of Ron’s composure. He dropped his books to the ground and swung his fist at the boy, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. He got on top of him, but he was thrown off by a sharp kick to his side. He rolled over in the grass but quickly regained footing and jumped at his attacker. He punched him, too, sending him stumbling over his friend.

Shouts from students who had gathered prodded them, but their scuffle was broken up by the stern cry of their Professor. Professor McGonagall chastised the Hufflepuffs and sent them to meet their own head of house before she focused on Ron.

“Come with me, Mr. Weasley,” she commanded.

Ron picked up his discarded books and followed her, ignoring the whispering and stares as he passed by his classmates. He joined McGonagall in her office, taking a seat and choosing to stare at the ground rather than face her admonishing stare.

“Would you care to tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

McGonagall wasn't the slightest bit amused by that response.

“They were talking about my sister.” He wasn't sure how much McGonagall would care about that, but it was the least incriminating answer he had.

“So it was you who threw the first punch, was it?”

Ron nodded. They deserved it, but he didn't say that.

“What is it they were saying about your sister?”

Ron slouched in his seat, huffing angrily. He mumbled an irritated reutterance of what they’d called Ginny.

“I see,” McGonagall said. “Nevertheless, that does not excuse physical violence. You will still be facing detention today.”

Ron nodded again.

“I will also be informing Professor Sprout of this behavior to ensure it doesn't happen again.”

“Sure,” Ron muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing.”

McGonagall rose from her seat, rounding her desk so she could stand in front of Ron. She stared down at him, probably hoping she could intimidate him into speaking up but it didn't work.

“Is there anything else you would like to share with me?”

“No.”

“May I see your hand?”

Ron looked up at her in question, but he extended his hand. She took him by the wrist, lifting his arm to examine his knuckles.

“Must have been a good hit,” she commented.

He chuckled slightly at his teacher’s sudden lack of professionalism, dipping his head down and pulling his hand back.

“Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?”

Ron shook his head.

She sat back down and pushed a plate of biscuits toward him. “Biscuit?”

Ron took one, finally meeting her gaze properly. She gave him a rare upturn of her lips. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Everyone thinks Hermione cheated on me with Draco,” he admitted.

Her face clouded with confusion but she nodded along like she understood. “Well, did she? Or was that something you chose to believe without evidence?”

“No! Of course not. He’s gay, besides, and she would never do that with him.” He shuddered with disgust. “But why shouldn't she? Not with him, but some other boy. Someone who’s smart, and handsome, and likes arithmancy and reading.”

Ron may not need to worry about Hermione and Draco hooking up behind his back but that didn't change the fact that Draco was a much more suitable companion. They shared books, they both took arithmancy, and Draco was so much more intelligent and probably more interesting to talk to. Why wouldn't Hermione prefer a man like that?

“Mr. Weasley,” she said in that stern-gentle tone that Ron and his siblings would call a ‘mum voice.’ “If Ms. Granger wanted an academic, I assure you she would find one. She is hardly the kind to spare one’s feelings.”

Ron gave a half-hearted laugh. “You're probably right.”

“I am. No one is forcing her to be with you.”

“But what if she’s only with me until someone better comes along?”

“Yes, but what if she is not?” She quirked a brow at him. “If she had no interest in you, she would not be dating you.”

“But what if she finds someone she likes more.”

“Hm, well, if book smarts are a dealbreaker then she must have some very good reasons to be with you, yes?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He took another biscuit and looked at his professor with eyes full of such distress that she couldn't help but feel a lioness sort of protection over him.

“Everything has been so awful lately,” Ron went on. “Everyone’s giving Harry and Draco a hard time, and Harry says it doesn't bother him but I think it does. And I know it bothers Draco but he won't talk about it. I think his dad is upset with him, too.”

McGonagall knew exactly what he was referring to, and she wished for the two aforementioned boys that she could do more to step in and stop it. Unfortunately, no amount of detentions could stop hatred, and if no one had been physically hurt she wasn't actually allowed to expel students.

“Hermione’s been talking about N.E.W.T.S nonstop. If she keeps going on like this I think she might explode. Meanwhile, I’ll be lucky to pass at all. And Harry, he’s- I have to drag him out of bed every day, which I feel bad about. He just wants to sleep but I can't let him fail. And Dumbledore keeps making him do all this stuff that, well, that’s- never mind. And Hermione worries so much.”

Ron kept on ranting. It seemed Hermione wasn't the only one who worried excessively.

“And people are being so shitty to Ginny,” he said. “It’s-” he cut himself off with a groan. “I just- I know if someone says or does something to her she won't tell me.”

“Perhaps the best thing you can do for your friends is simply to be there for them. Let them know they can come to you.”

“Yeah. Sorry, I should probably get to class, shouldn't I?”

She nodded, her usual seriousness returning but as Ron rose to leave he didn't miss the little twinkle in his professor’s eye that told him she didn't disapprove.

When he walked outside the office, he found Hermione and Harry waiting for him.

“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“You alright, mate?” Harry asked him.

“Fine. It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” Hermione interjected.

Ron held his hand out, offering it to her. She took it but she didn't look pleased.

“Let’s walk to class,” he said. “We can talk.”

“I’ll, er, yeah,” Harry said and started walking further ahead of them to be out of their way.

“I’m sorry,” Ron started. “I didn't mean to accuse you or anything.”

“You didn't actually think that, did you?”

“No, but I wouldn't be surprised. Not with Draco, that would just be weird. But with some other cooler bloke than me.”

“You think I'd cheat on you?” she asked, scandalized by the thought of it.

“Not cheat, just find someone better.” Ron stared at the ground as he spoke, too embarrassed to look at Hermione while he confessed to her. “The thing is, I’d understand if you did. You deserve someone who can keep up with all your interests, and intelligence, and-”

Hermione grabbed his face, forcing him to shut up and look at her. “I think I deserve someone who can handle me,” she said. “I don't know where else I’d find that.”

“Handle makes it sound like I don't like you,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Like you? Bit too much.”

Hermione giggled and kissed his nose. “Good. Me too.”

She took his hand and they began walking again.

“You don't have to like everything I like to be enough for me,” she said. “You're already everything to me.”

Ron looked down, smiling. He squeezed Hermione’s hand.

“And maybe when you feel like this you could tell me instead of being mean to me,” Hermione said.

Ron smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright. Just don't do it again.”

“Right.”

Hermione leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“We’re what?” Harry asked for the third time as he walked through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

“That’s what I saw,” Ron said.

“You saw a, what, a prophecy that our friendship would be doomed?”

“I was scrying in class, and that's what I saw. A ruined friendship.”

“Hermione!” Harry called. “Tell Ron he’s being ridiculous.”

“What are you two talking about?” she asked, looking up from her spot on the sofa. She had a thick book perched on her knee, a notebook on top, and another book beside her.

“Ron thinks our friendship is doomed because of something he saw in Divination.”

“I don't know why you kept taking that class,” Hermione said. “I thought you hated it anyway.”

“I did, but last year Trelawney said she thought I really had it in me. And, I don't know, it’s not as stupid as I thought.”

Professor Trelawney had suggested Ron might have potential in divination if he only let himself feel it more freely and ‘accept the callings.’ Her words alone didn't make him reconsider, she didn't seem to be the best judge of it herself, but she made it clear she believed in him and that made him want to at least see for himself. He wasn't sure of his skill yet but it turned out he quite liked the practice.

“Well, I still think you shouldn't take it too seriously,” Hermione replied. “I certainly don't believe that our friendship is doomed.”

“Maybe you read it wrong,” Harry suggested.

“Maybe,” Ron muttered.

Harry nudged him, smiling. “You really wanted our friendship to be doomed?”

“No,” Ron laughed. “I just want to know I'm not doing this for no reason. I don't know that I've ever gotten something right.”

Hermione opened her arms for him and he joined her on the sofa, nestling into her side. She was going to tell him not to worry about it because Divination was utterly ridiculous, but the way he pouted up at her waiting for encouragement made her rethink her words.

“You’ll get it,” she said. “Divination is a difficult thing to grasp, but I think you should keep trying.”

“I thought you thought it was silly?”

“It’s not like there has never been a correctly declared prophecy. It’s subjective and almost intangible, really-”

“Not to mention takes forever to get it down,” Harry interrupted.

“Yes, but that's no reason to give up,” Hermione finished.

“I guess you're right. I do think I'm getting better at it. Possibly.”

Hermione kissed his head. He peered over her notebook where she was scrawling runes unintelligible to him.

“We should do something fun tonight,” Ron said. “So you can get a break from all this studying you're doing.”

“How do you ever expect me to pass my NEWTs if I don't study?”

“You’ll pass just fine. I don't think you've ever failed at anything in your life.”

“Once I-”

Ron cut her off with a kiss. “All that studying will be worthless if you die from stress.”

“Can you die from stress?”

“Probably not,” Harry said. “Or I’d be dead by now.”

Ron and Hermione were equally unamused by his joke.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Hermione reprimanded. “It’s not funny.”

“Sorry.” Harry pursed his lips, glancing awkwardly at his friends’ stares.

“Oh, guess what?” He broke the silence.

“Hm?” Ron hummed.

“In a few days, I’ll be two months clean.”

There was a beat of silence before Ron and Hermione broke into cheers and practically climbed on top of him with hugs. One of Hermione’s books fell to the floor.

“I’m so proud of you, Harry,” Hermione said, pressing her cheek against his.

“You did it!” Ron cheered, clutching both Harry’s hands. “How do you feel?”

“Good, I guess.”

“You should,” Hermione squealed. She planted a kiss on his cheek and Ron rubbed his head.

Their celebration was interrupted by a ball of crumpled paper bouncing off Ron’s head.

“Sorry, mate,” Seamus said as he ran up to them. “What are you screaming about?”

“What are you throwing things at me for?” Ron responded.

Seamus snickered, kicking the paper under the sofa. Dean came up behind him, side-eyeing him.

“Seamus, I need your help,” Dean said.

“Why? I don't know what I’m doing either.”

“Just quiz me.”

“What do you need help with?” Hermione asked.

“It’s just charmwork.”

“I can help if you want,” she offered.

“Would you?”

“I was going to help,” Seamus said, offended at being replaced.

“We can work together,” Hermione said, gathering her books. Ron picked up the one that had fallen to the floor.

“What is this?” he asked, reading the cover.

“Oh, it’s, um.” She looked warily at Seamus and Dean. “I’ll be with you two in a minute,” she said. “Go away.”

Seamus eyed her suspiciously but Dean dragged him away before he got the chance to protest.

Hermione took the book from Ron’s hands. Harry sat in between them, also observing the book.

“It’s about different people throughout history who have defied boundaries of gender,” Hermione explained. “There are so many interesting stories and it’s proof that transgender or gender non-conforming people have been around forever. We should read it together.”

“If I knew how to read I would,” Ron joked, but he was genuinely interested in this book.

“I’ll read it to you,” Hermione smiled. Ron matched her fond grin and leaned over Harry to kiss her.

Harry would have expressed his own interest in reading this book, but the two didn't break apart so he sat silently in between them, looking down in disgust. He tipped his head back on the sofa just in time to see Ginny passing by.

“Help me,” he mouthed to her, but she just giggled and left him to fend for himself.

Ginny stepped out of the portrait and headed downstairs. She was meeting Pansy in the Slytherin common room. It was funny how the relationship of Slytherin’s and Gryffindor's respective golden boys led to the intermingling of the two houses that had before been long-standing rivals. They still were, it wasn't as if they'd achieved house unity by means of a couple many of them still made fun of. But Ginny could walk into the Slytherin common room with a few snickers but hardly the bat of an eye.

Ginny knew the password, Draco had given it to Harry, and she went freely into their room. She didn't find Pansy, but she found her friends gathered together, as well as Luna. Luna was lying on the sofa with Theo lying on top of her. She was reading a book of old poetry that Ginny recognized, having seen Hermione read the same one. Maybe she’d borrowed it.

“Are you two a proper couple now?” Ginny asked the two of them.

“No,” Luna said. “We’re just partners. Different than friends, but not a couple. We’re not romantic partners.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ginny had no idea what that meant, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, so she didn't question it.

Sitting beside them on the floor was Daphne who had an open potions book in front of her and was grinding some ingredient into powder in her little bowl. Astoria sat beside her tending to a potted plant. She waved at Ginny, a friendly smile on her face.

Draco was sitting in the chair right next to them, reading. Ginny sat on the arm of his chair.

“What are you reading?”

“A terrible book that Hermione gave me.”

“Is it a romance book?” she asked. “I borrowed one from her once.” She shook her head. “The entire plot was she’s uptight and he teaches her to let loose and dream.”

“Was it this?” Draco asked, flipping it around to show her the cover.

“No, it was something else.”

“The other one she was going to lend me sounds like that, too.”

“Maybe all muggle books are just the same thing.”

“I hope not,” Draco said, frowning down at his book. “Did you know muggles write about magic but they believe it’s made up?”

Ginny nodded. “It seems they've got some imagination in them, at least,” she laughed. “I don't think a muggle could ever write a story so magical as one of them suddenly becoming a wizard and finding out there’s a whole other world than theirs.”

“And an entire school where wizardry is taught,” Draco added. “The tamest of pureblood rituals might be too much for them.”

“Not to mention the love stories,” Ginny said. “Purebloods and muggleborns, ancient rivalries, the lot of it.”

“Judging by this,” Draco held up the book, “I don't think their minds could come up with anything nearly as interesting as a kooky, free-thinking, extraordinary even among wizards girl and an uptight, snobby purist in a non-romantic, more than friends relationship.”

“Why were all the things you said about me rude?” Theo interjected.

“Hm, I don't know,” Draco teased.

“I’m not nearly as snobbish as you,” Theo claimed.

“Yes, you so are.”

“Oh, really? You-”

“Alright, I'm sorry, I love you,” Draco interrupted. “We don't need to go through every mistake I've ever made in my life. He does this all the time,” he told the girls.

“Because you constantly blame me for your own crimes,” Theo said.

“Valid reasoning,” Luna determined.

The four of them laughed and they were finally joined by Pansy, who let out a little laugh simply because they were.

“What’s going on?” she asked, slipping an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

“I’m being bullied,” Draco said.

Pansy nodded. “It’s what you deserve. Luna, I've got you something.”

Luna and Theo gave her their attention. Pansy held up two hair ribbons, one blue and the other orange.

Luna didn't smile, just opened her hand for the ribbons, and Pansy thought she must have not liked the gift.

“Thank you,” Luna said, running her fingers along the silky material of the ribbons.

“I hope they're alright.”

“They’re wonderful. Now I can match.”

Ginny gave Pansy a questioning smile, but she ignored it. She took Ginny’s hand and nodded toward the hall that led to the dorm rooms. They were stopped on their way by two younger girls.

“Pansy?” one of them said in a high-pitched but sweet voice.

Pansy grimaced at the girls. “What do you want, Gracie?”

“Would you do my hair tonight?” she pleaded. “Elliot Williams asked me out,” she grinned, and her friend giggled.

“Did he? About time isn't it?” Pansy remarked. “I’ve heard you going on about him forever.”

Gracie giggled. “He’s finally asked me on a date. Well, it's not an official date but it practically is.”

Pansy nodded in agreement. “Do you need something sturdy or something flirty?”

The girls giggled again, Gracie’s high half ponytail bobbing as she moved her head.

“We’ll find something cute later,” Pansy said. “Right now, I've other priorities.” She stroked Ginny’s hair, tucking one of the long strands behind her ear.

They went to Pansy’s room, together, and Pansy jumped onto her bed, kicking her boots onto the floor. Ginny sat down much more ceremoniously, taking a seat at the end of the bed and smoothing a hand over the wrinkled blanket. Pansy lay back on her pillows, one foot kicked over her bent knee and her skirt riding up her thighs.

“You’re very sweet, Pansy,” Ginny said.

“What? To who?”

“Everyone. I don't know.”

“When have I ever been nice?”

“Twice just now,” Ginny said. “You got Luna those hair ribbons and with that girl who wanted you to do her hair. I like that you take care of people.”

Pansy gave her a weird look, like she hadn't just done those two things Ginny named only moments ago. “You might think too highly of me, Ginny.”

Ginny crawled up the bed to sit beside Pansy. “I don't think, I’ve witnessed it. You’ve changed a lot since your days of being a, um-”

“Miserable bitch?”

“Sure,” Ginny laughed.

Pansy frowned, eyeing Ginny with what she thought must be doubt. And possibly mild frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

“When are we supposed to talk about what we are?” Pansy asked.

“Whenever you'd like to,” Ginny said. She had been wondering the same thing but didn't want to be the one to bring it up. “We don't have to figure anything out right now. We can't just do what feels right. Like Luna and Theo.”

“It doesn't feel right,” Pansy said softly, pulling herself into a sitting position and staring out the window in the opposite direction of Ginny.

“What doesn't?”

“This. What we’re doing.”

“You,” Ginny hesitated, trying to understand what Pansy meant. “You don't want to be with me?”

“It’s not right.”

Ginny noted the difference between Pansy’s protestations. She didn't mean it felt wrong but that she’d been made to believe it was.

“I've already allowed this to go too far,” Pansy said. “It was a summer thing, a silly joke. It should have stayed that way.”

Ginny turned Pansy’s face to look at her and saw the tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy whispered, and her tears slipped out.

“You shouldn't be sorry to me. You should say sorry to yourself.”

Through her tears, Pansy’s familiar look of question, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open, stared back at Ginny.

“We don't have to take this any further. We can go our separate ways. One day you’ll marry a boring, wealthy businessman, have two children, and be the trophy wife everyone wants you to be.” Ginny spoke lightly, dictating Pansy’s future like it had been written before her. “Your husband will come home, kiss his lovely wife, and sit down at the head of the table of the house you maintain. And do you know what I'll be doing?”

Pansy didn't answer, swiping a finger under each eye.

“I’ll be with my girlfriend, my wife, maybe, and I’ll be happy. Will you be happy?”

“Will I ever?”

Ginny cupped her wet face. “May I kiss you?”

Pansy nodded and leaned in before Ginny did. When they pulled apart, Ginny asked, “Did that make you feel happy?”

“Yeah,” Pansy breathed.

“Then yes, you will be.”

Pansy hugged her, crying into her shoulder. She mumbled a quiet apology.

“It’s fine,” Ginny said. “We’ll figure everything out together, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Pansy kissed her again. “Is it alright if we don't show off our relationship so much? Everyone knows we’re friends, but if we could perhaps not hold hands and all that. If you wouldn't mind.”

“Yeah, that's alright.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s-”

“It’s fine,” Ginny once again assured. “It’s perfectly fine. If that's what would help you feel most comfortable then that's exactly what I want.”

“What are we going to tell our friends?”

“That we’re together,” Ginny suggested. “Though I think they might've pieced it together by now.”

“I suppose we can tell them if they ask.”

Ginny laughed, and the glittery way it fell over Pansy in soft, bright sparkles was another thing that reminded her why this was where she would find happiness.

“An interesting couple we make,” Pansy said. “Slytherin’s princess and Gryffindor’s resident casanova.”

“I think a casanova is only a guy.”

“I’m certain it's a neutral term.”

“I’m hardly one either way.”

“That’s not true. Everyone is in love with you.”

Ginny looked at her skeptically. “I’m sure. But I suppose casanova is better than what everyone else prefers to call me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “That’s all nonsense. I’ve done my share of slut shaming, but I think it’s only another thing to make girls feel like we owe something to men and to pit us against each other.”

“You’re probably right. It’s just so frustrating sometimes.”

“I know.” Pansy put a finger under Ginny’s chin and bopped their noses together. “There are unfortunately a lot of fools roaming this earth freely.”

“Freely?” Ginny giggled.

“Yes. They ought to be locked up for their foolishness alone. It’s an offense to our society.”

Ginny laughed at Pansy’s nonchalant shrug.

“Anyhow, I don't want to talk about that,” Pansy said. “Tell me something nice.”

“Like what?”

“Does your mum know you like girls?” That might have not been the nicest topic Pansy could choose, but judging by the way Mrs. Weasley treated and accepted Draco and Harry, she assumed it was safe.

Maybe she wasn't right in assuming because Ginny averted her gaze, staring downward. “Uh, no, she doesn't. I’m not sure she'd be thrilled to hear it.”

“Why not? She loves gay people.”

“I don’t think she cares, it’s just that she has expectations, you know.”

“Expectations?”

“I’m her only daughter. I know how much she’d love to see me get married and have babies. I’m afraid she’s going to be disappointed.”

“But will you be?”

“Be what?”

“Disappointed?” Pansy said, a slow smile creeping up her face. “Or will you be happy?”

Ginny reluctantly smiled. “I’ll be happy,” she admitted.

“Then that's all that matters.”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, but she wasn't so sure.

***

“Hermione, you have to answer,” Ron all but shouted. He was a little bit tipsy from their previous game of Never Have I Ever.

The Gryffindor, along with Luna and their Slytherin friends, were gathered in the Gryffindor’s common room playing classic party games suggested by the muggleborn participants. They had played Never Have I Ever which Harry had never played and planned to never play again due to the severe levels of embarrassment he'd suffered through.

Now they were playing Marry, Kiss, or Kill. It was Hermione’s turn and she had to choose between Umbridge, George Weasley, and Professor Slughorn.

“Fine, alright,” she relented. “I’ll kill Umbridge,” she said easily. The other two were much more difficult. “Um, I guess I’ll marry George since he's alright.”

“Ew,” Ron uttered. “I’d kill him.”

“I’d like to know what you’d pick,” Hermione retorted. “So that means I’d kiss Slughorn.”

One thing Harry loved about this game, even though it was stupid, was how seriously everyone took it. In reality, Hermione choosing to kiss Slughorn did nothing to her but everyone acted as if they'd seen it happen with their own eyes. It was rather funny.

“Alright, Ron’s turn,” Hermione said.

Rather than being orderly, the players unceremoniously shouted names until three were fully heard and therefore chosen.

Oliver Wood, Sirius Black, and Harry.

“I’d marry you, Harry,” Ron grinned at him. “Because it rhymes. Then I guess I’d kiss Sirius and Oliver’s getting it.”

There was an uproar of laughter and jokes about Ron choosing to kiss Sirius Black and Harry was reminded of how the rest of the world still thought of him.

“My turn! My turn!” Ginny called.

She got Flitwick, Lupin, and Draco.

“Kiss Flitwick,” she said readily. “And marry Lupin, because he’s nice.”

“Now, hold on,” Draco stated his offense. Ginny shrugged and the room once again filled with laughter.

Dean went next. His options were Pansy, Ron, and Seamus.

“I don't want to kill any of them, but I guess Ron since he's the most annoying,” he decided.

“Rude!”

“Then I’ll kiss Pansy and marry Seamus.”

Seamus smiled so wide it looked like his face might burst. Dean’s smile was far more shy but barely able to be suppressed. Seamus scooted closer to him.

“I’d marry you too.”

The way Dean just about melted right there was apparent to the rest of the room in his fond little smile. He pulled Seamus into a kiss, the other boy not hesitating to reciprocate. Harry thought watching other people kiss was kind of gross but everyone else erupted into loud cheers, awws, and applause.

It didn't go unnoticed by Harry the vastly different reaction everyone seemed to have for Dean and Seamus compared to the one they all had for him and Draco. Maybe they didn't all hate gay people. Maybe they just hated Harry and Draco. More likely they just hated Harry. Draco must have noticed this too because he sent Harry a look from his spot across from him on the floor.

“Can I go now?” Pansy loudly requested.

She ended up with Hermione, Moaning Myrtle, and Lavender Brown.

“Does it count if I kill Myrtle?”

Several players looked at one another for confirmation of the rules until they ultimately decided that, yes, it does count.

“Then I’ll kiss Hermione only because I couldn't stand being married to her.”

“Why not?” Hermione pouted. “I’d be a good wife, I think.”

“You’re a bit naggy.”

“I’d marry Hermione,” Ron announced.

“No one cares,” Pansy said. She turned around to find Lavender behind her. “You’ll be my wife.”

Lavender giggled. “I’m honored.”

“I haven't gone yet,” Draco declared. “Pick me some people.”

There was a chorus of Harry’s name.

“All I heard was Harry, Harry, Harry, so it seems you're getting all three,” he said, smirking at his boyfriend.

“Seems accurate.”

Draco leaned in closer, and Harry wanted to kiss him just as Dean and Seamus had done. The only thing actually stopping him was the certainty that they would receive a greatly different reaction that he wasn't in the mood to hear. Instead, he focused on the unwelcome warmth that blossomed in his stomach and traveled downward. Not like that, but maybe it was close.

Harry hadn't ever felt aroused, but he also didn't know what exactly it made you feel. Did it make your insides fuzzy, your chest burn, and other concerning but not entirely unpleasant bodily malfunctions? That’s what seemed to be happening lately with him.

He focused back on the game, pushing those thoughts down. It was Luna’s turn.

Ginny, Cornelius Fudge, and Dumbledore.

“Marry Ginny,” she decided immediately. “I feel bad saying I'm going to kill anyone.”

“Just tell us who you’d kiss,” Hermione said. “We get the rest.”

“And kiss Dumbledore.”

“I don't like this game,” Theo announced. “I don't want to kiss any of you people.”

“We’ll give you good options,” Pansy said.

Theo hadn't liked Never Have I Ever very much either. Everyone was very obsessed with who you kissed and where you touched, and Theo seemed just as turned off by it as Harry was. Still, Theo took his turn.

Neville, Ginny, and Madam Rosmerta.

“Should've given Ron Rosmerta,” Hermione said.

“Are you ever going to stop making fun of me for that?”

“Never.”

“You’re all gross,” Theo said. “Marry Neville because he’s the only tolerable one around here.”

“Thanks,” Neville said, happily accepting the backward compliment.

Theo sent him a momentary glare and continued. “Kiss Ginny and kill Rosmerta.”

“Aw, Theo, I thought you'd kill me for sure,” Ginny teased.

“If you keep it up I will.”

“Ginny, you didn't go yet, did you?” Luna asked.

“I did, but I’ll go again.”

Her turn followed, the shouts of several boys’ names filling the room until they chose Colin Creevey, Lee Jordan, and, surprisingly, Pansy.

Pansy sent her a teasing smirk. “Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?” She said it like it was a challenge.

“First off, I’m going to marry Lee because he’s funny and I’ve always liked him. And then,” she paused for additional suspense. “I’ll kiss Pansy. Sorry, Colin.”

Colin just laughed. “I bet you’d love kissing Pansy,” he said.

Being the dramatic lot they were, there were many gasps. Being also very good-natured there was likewise a lot of laughter at the perceived joke.

Somebody kneed Harry’s shoulder and he looked up to see Seamus standing above him.

“You haven't gone once, Haz,” he said, and then to the rest of the room, shouted, “Choose Harry’s!”

Harry groaned but it was too late to refuse. They chose Snape, because, of course, they did, Lucius Malfoy for some reason, and the single decent option of Luna Lovegood.

“I’m never playing another game with any of you,” Harry said.

If their laughter was an attempt at cheering him on, it was a very lousy one. But it worked nonetheless.

“Marry Luna, since the other two you gave me are foul.”

He didn't want to kiss Snape because that was, though very fake, also very gross, and he felt bad saying kill Malfoy in front of Draco so he went with-

“Kiss Lucius Malfoy.” He stuck his tongue out and everyone laughed.

Draco frowned at him with an unnecessary amount of disgust for a game.

“Don’t look at me,” Harry said, raising his hand to Draco’s face. That dissolved Draco’s disgust, and he, too, joined in the laughter.

“Who wants to play truth or dare?” Someone shouted.

“I'm not playing any more games,” Harry refused. “I don't trust any of you.”

***

“Ron?” Harry whispered. He was lying beside him in Ron’s bed, the curtains drawn closed.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something? It’s important, but it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“To you, or me?”

“What? Why would it be embarrassing to you?”

Ron shrugged. “Whatever it is, I probably won't care as much as you do. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Alright,” Harry said hesitantly. “How do you feel when you’re, er, turned on?”

Harry couldn't see the look Ron gave him through the dark but he assumed it was judgemental. Or confused.

“I, uh, I don't think it’s the same thing,” Ron stumbled over his words. “It’s- I don't- why do you want to know?”

“Because I think it might possibly be happening to me but I don't know.”

“You think you're getting turned on and you can't tell?”

“Whatever. Forget it.”

“No, it’s alright, it’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Harry crossed his arms, sliding further down under the covers.

“So, what does it feel like?”

Ron laughed, not because he was making fun of him, but the way he laughed when he was about to tell Harry how silly he was being. Which, right now, would be just as embarrassing as if Ron were to outright make fun of him.

“I couldn't tell you, mate,” he said. “I don't think it would feel the same for you and me.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” Harry covered his face and groaned. “Who am I supposed to ask then?”

“Any other one of the guys.”

“I can't-”

“Guys!” Ron called out to the room. He called them by name, and Neville was the only one who didn't ignore him or brush him off with a rude gesture.

“What are you yelling for?” Neville asked.

“Come here.”

Neville climbed into Ron’s bed and the other boys sat up.

“Nev, what does being turned on feel like?”

“What does it feel like?”

Harry wanted to die from embarrassment. Ron did not feel the same shame.

“Yeah. Describe it to us.”

“Do you mean physically or…”

“Everything,” Ron said eagerly.

“Alright, well, um, it feels kind of like an adrenaline rush, I guess. You get excited.”

“Does your chest get hot?” Harry asked.

“That's never happened to me, but sure. It's kind of just a want, I guess. You just know you want it. You feel it.”

“Do you get tingles?”

“I don't know.”

“He’s not helpful at all,” Harry said to Ron.

“Be more specific,” Ron ordered Neville.

“You get hard?” he offered.

Ron looked to Harry as if to ask if that was helpful.

“Ew. I've never been hard in my life.” That wasn't true, he’d been hard just not because of sexual arousal.

“Perhaps you are impotent?” Ron asked.

“Ugh, I've been hard, just not because of that.”

“What’s been happening to you?” Ron questioned. “Have you been feeling aroused lately?”

“I’ve just- I get this weird heated feeling or a tingle through my body. It just started happening. Sometimes, when I'm around Draco it happens.”

“That’s probably- the heat and tingles are probably your increased blood flow,” Neville said. “That’s what's going on in there.”

“Do you want to do it with him?” Ron asked.

“No!” Did he? “Maybe. I don't know,” he sighed in frustration. “I just want him.”

He wanted to kiss him, kiss his body, touch him, have him. But all this stuff was new to him and he didn't understand it at all. He also felt deeply uncomfortable discussing it.

“You could do it to yourself,” Neville said. “I feel like most people do that before doing it with someone else.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“And you can talk to Draco,” he suggested. “It’s okay to try things and not like it. Or to change your mind or anything.”

“Thanks, Neville.”

“Yeah.”

“So, Nev?” Ron said, leaning forward, elbows propped on legs and head on hands. “You got a girlfriend?”

Neville laughed, self-deprecating and seemingly forced.

“No.”

Chapter Text

The air was becoming chillier, the cool winds of October sending branches swaying and leaves swirling. Harry walked up the steps to the owlery, his boots scuffing against the stone. It was early in the morning, colder than it would be in the afternoon and even more so in the owlery, and Harry wished he'd worn a hat to keep his ears from the chill.

Hedwig cooed as he came in. He stroked her soft feathers and she nipped at his fingers, expecting her breakfast.

“Alright, easy,” he chuckled. “It’s right here.”

He knelt on the straw-covered floor as she ate. He told her about the conversation he'd had with Ron and Neville a couple of nights ago and the little progress he'd made with that discovery. Hedwig rarely missed any of Harry’s life updates.

“I don't know what to do,” he said. “Neville said I should,” he made a downward gesture with his hand. Hedwig squawked.

“Weird, I know. I should tell Draco. Do you think he’ll be happy?”

This was how Harry was supposed to feel, wasn't it? Sex was considered a crucial part of relationships. He thought he didn't like it because he’d always been surrounded by hormone-driven teenagers and he didn't feel half the sensation that seemed to fill them. He’d felt alienated, but maybe he was simply a late bloomer.

“Guess what I did?” Harry said to his bird, who, like most of the time, didn't acknowledge him. “I’m two months clean now. I know that's not a very long time, but I’m kind of really proud. I actually did it.”

If Hedwig found this exciting, she didn't show it. Harry stroked her head and headed back out of the owlery. Harry had Quidditch practice today. He rarely felt very excited about Quidditch, even though he liked playing. Whatever chemicals in your brain are supposed to cause excitement seemed to be a little slow in his.

He wondered absently if that's why he didn't like sex. It would make sense. Apparently depression was caused by chemical imbalances in your brain, so his excitement really was being delayed, it wasn't just a thought. It was the truth. He’d read something about that in one of Hermione’s depression research papers. So maybe his sex chemicals were also very low and insufficient. That didn't bother him nearly as much. Quidditch was much more appealing than sex.

Harry went back to his room to get his Quidditch things. Seamus, Neville, and Dean were still asleep, and Ron had already left with Ginny and Hermione, awaiting Harry’s arrival on the pitch. He had enough time, there was no need to hurry, so he took his time staring at his miserable reflection in the mirror.

Harry had always found himself to be ugly. He knew he wasn't attractive, everything around him proved it. He didn't think you could only be pretty if you were a light-skinned, blonde-haired, movie star with large biceps, but he disagreed that beauty was something everyone got to enjoy.

He thought Ron was nice-looking, he was tall, and his hair always looked good even if it was messy. Dean was good-looking too, also tall, pretty eyes with long lashes. Neville was tall, now, too, he'd finally gotten his growth spurt over the summer. Along with his height, his face had gotten its upgrade in masculine maturity.

Harry just looked like a dweeb. A short, scrawny, messy-haired dweeb with no remarkable physical features. He wasn't super fit like Blaise or Theodore, he wasn't even kind of cute like Seamus.

He took his hoodie off and scanned his reflection. He was wearing an oversized white shirt with an old ink smudge on it and a hole near the collar. He pulled the shirt over his head and frowned at his body. His blue pajama bottoms hung low on his hips. He thought about Draco, how small and slim he was, the way his bones poked out, and his waist was tiny, much more so than Harry’s. Harry was thin, but he had pudge around his hips and waist.

Harry felt guilty comparing himself to Draco, even if it was only in his own head. Draco had hurt himself to look like that. Harry thought people shouldn't promote skinniness so much, doing things like encouraging not eating and fearing food. He wondered if dieticians and diet lovers would feel different if they met Draco and saw what not eating could do to someone.

Draco was still objectively attractive. Very attractive. He was just beautiful. His head of full blonde locks, falling over his forehead and framing his sharp yet soft features perfectly. Like he was crafted with the utmost attention and care. Maybe he was. And Harry had been thrown together at the last minute after a long hard day of creating beautiful people. His parents were both so pretty, he didn't know where this rotten luck had come from.

Harry thought the worst part of him being unattractive was that he didn't have anything to make up for it. The girls seemed to think they were ugly, and though Harry strongly disagreed he could see how they compensated for it. Hermione was incredibly clever, Ginny was bold and spirited, and Pansy was loud and over-confident. They all announced themselves in a way so eye-catching you could ignore how they actually looked.

Harry couldn't do that. He wasn't smart, cool, funny, he wasn't loud, not in any good ways, and he wasn't fun. He was miserable and tired, and the only special talent he possessed was the ability to bring a mood down with his sullen presence. Draco always joked about how his being Harry’s boyfriend was Harry’s only noteworthy accomplishment but it wasn't really much of a joke. If a random onlooker were to observe Harry’s life, his friends would be the only redeeming part of it.

Harry changed into his Quidditch robes, halting his internal monologue of self-hatred, and went outside for practice. He met with his team on the field, Hufflepuff’s team standing off to the other side. Gryffindor shared their practice time with Hufflepuff, while Slytherin practiced with Ravenclaw’s team in the evening.

Draco, Pansy, and Hermione were usually in the stands, up early to watch Gryffindor’s practice. Hermione and Draco usually spent the time doing homework, but Pansy actually watched Ginny play. Pansy was in that first stage where you're really obsessed with your new partner. Harry thought he was still pretty obsessed with Draco, but they'd gotten both more serious and more lighthearted in their relationship. There were still butterflies and sparks and all that silly stuff, but there was more than that.

Harry loved Draco, he loved every single bit of him. If he was a person who cried a lot, it would make him cry. Seeing Draco happy made Harry happy, hearing him laugh, seeing him smile, it made Harry want to hold him and never let go. He wished he could give Draco everything he wanted because he deserved it. Talking to him felt like they'd known each other forever but were still learning new things. Harry wanted to keep learning about Draco. He wanted Draco’s everything.

Draco, as if being summoned by Harry’s thoughts, or perhaps the stare he held on him, looked up from his books and met Harry’s gaze. He swiftly shuffled away whatever papers he was looking at, along with a notebook, stuffing them in his bag and smiling at Harry. His wave seemed forced, but Harry didn't think much of it.

He was distracted by the fact that Hermione and Pansy weren't with him and a glance at his team showed Harry that Ron and Ginny weren't anywhere in sight either. He sent Draco a confused look as if he'd know where they were. Maybe he would. He knew at least what Harry was asking because he shrugged.

Harry searched the changing room first and found all four of them there, standing around Ron who looked as distraught as he did during his first-ever Quidditch tryouts. Ginny was fully dressed, but Ron was only dressed from the waist down, an oversized hoodie covering the rest of him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ron said hurriedly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” Hermione pressed. “Or are you just saying that?”

“Why is it bothering you now?” Ginny asked. “Don’t you always play like this?”

“It’s not a big deal. I can ignore it.”

“Can you? Because I won't be happy with you if you mess up because you're distracted.”

“What are we talking about?” Harry interjected.

“Ron feels weird about his tits,” Pansy said.

“Could you not say it like that?”

“His fat chest,” she corrected herself.

“Don’t go around saying I have tits,” Ron said. “I told you that in confidence.”

“First of all, we don't have that kind of relationship, and second, you hardly have tits.”

“Right, do you need to sit out?” Harry asked. “This doesn't usually bother you, does it?”

Ron hadn't been acting like it did, but his chest had always seemed to be the part of his body that caused the most discomfort. Maybe he just hadn't told Harry it was bothering him. Harry hadn't thought to ask.

“It bothers me more some days than others,” Ron said.

“Why can't you do anything when you bind?” Pansy said, complaining more than asking. “Whoever invented that needs to do better.”

“It’s supposed to compress.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Compress,” Hermione said.

“Oh! That’s a good idea,” Harry agreed before she had even said it. “You could wear a compression top.”

“I don't know how flat it would make you,” Hermione said, tapping a thoughtful finger to her chin. “But it might give the illusion.”

“What’s that?” Ron asked. Ginny and Pansy looked equally confused.

Hermione explained. “It’s something you wear while playing sports or working out. They prevent muscle cramps and improve blood flow, but it's just a tight shirt, and you can wear it underneath your uniform. It might make you feel more comfortable when you play.”

“Where do I get one of those?”

“I’ll buy you one,” Hermione offered. “But what are we going to do right now?”

“Do you want to sit this one out?” Harry asked.

“He can't just sit out of practice,” Ginny protested.

“He can if he needs to.”

“I don't need to, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem,” Harry said, eyeing Ginny.

“I'm sure. I’m fine,” Ron repeated.

“You don't sound sure,” Ginny accused.

“You're the one who said I can’t skip practice.”

Ginny clapped her hands and pointed at Ron, eyes widening with a brewing idea. “Do you remember when we were little and you used to wear my sports bras?”

Ron had started his hormone replacement therapy when he was thirteen, and it took a long time to convince his mum to buy him a binder because she thought it wasn't safe. So Ron took to wearing Ginny’s sports bras, flattening his already small chest. The small sizes often left him with rubbed-red shoulders, but it was worth it.

“I don't think that'll work the same now.”

“It’ll work as well as it always did.”

Probably true.

Ginny undid her robe and removed her bra without taking her shirt off. She pulled out the padding and gave it to Ron. “Don't worry, it’s clean. I just put it on.”

Ginny’s chest was a good bit bigger than Ron’s, but his wider shoulders and the stretchy, adaptable material made up for it. Hermione took off her bra, slipping it out from beneath her shirt and giving it to Ginny. Hermione’s chest was also smaller than Ginny’s but it was a sports bra, too, so Ginny had little problem squeezing into it.

Ron finished getting dressed and Hermione pulled him into a hug. Pansy dragged Harry and Ginny out so the two could have a moment.

“You’re alright?”

“Fine,” Ron said, less aggressively than his earlier insistence.

“Comfortable?”

“Enough.”

Hermione tucked his hair behind his ears and cupped his face. “We’ll get you that shirt. I’ll write to my dad and ask where to buy them from. He could send one.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Hermione waved him off, but she didn't try to dissuade him, knowing he'd only want to fight her on it. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

They walked hand in hand toward the pitch, parting with a goodbye kiss, and Hermione ran up to the stands to join Draco. She divided her attention between Ron and her arithmancy homework, sending him smiles and an occasional shout of encouragement.

By their next practice, Ron had two new compression tops. He was wearing the long-sleeved one and staring at himself in the mirror.

“Does it fit alright?” Hermione asked.

“It fits perfect,” Ron said, smoothing his hands over the glossy material. He grinned at his reflection.

“I take it you like it then?”

“I do,” Ron nodded eagerly.

It didn't make him as flat as his binder, where his chest was nearly entirely flat, but it was more comfortable, and it gave a flatter appearance than if he just wore a tank top. Hermione always said guys had chest fat too, but it felt much better to be completely flattened, unrealistic or not.

Ron grinned at Hermione, and she grinned back. She loved it when he got happy like this. When she could see the pure, innocent joy in his eyes. She imagined the little boy inside Ron was ecstatic in those moments.

***

“Would you check this?” Ron asked, sliding his workbook across the table toward Hermione. She accepted the book, switching it with the one in her hand that she'd been reading out loud. Ron, with some struggle, picked up where she left off.

“Do you want me to do that?” Draco asked, looking up from his homework. “I can't understand a word you're saying.”

Ron pouted at him.

“He’s trying,” Hermione came to his defense, though not without a bit of humor in her voice.

“And he’s doing lovely, but I’d rather like to hear this.”

Ron handed over the book. “I hate reading out loud anyway.”

Draco began where Hermione left off, reading about the history of transexual priestesses in Greece. Hermione interrupted him to reel off ancient Greek queer history.

“What does this mean?” Pansy wondered aloud, leaning over her book 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝐴𝑙𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑦.

Draco read over her shoulder, but he didn't take alchemy and understand even less of it than she did.

“Can we stop reading?” Harry asked. “I can barely focus on one thing.”

Draco marked their place with the white ribbon Hermione was using as a bookmark and closed the book. “What are you working on?”

“Charms,” Harry replied boredly. He’d much rather be doing anything else. Like sleeping, perhaps. He leaned his head in his hands tiredly.

“Ron?” Ginny leaned forward to peer past Harry at her brother. “Are cockatrices real?”

“How should I know?”

“I’ve always been told they were,” Pansy said. “But I don't suppose there's much solid evidence.”

“I bet Hagrid would know.”

“As long as I've spent in the wizarding world some things I think I’ll never understand,” Harry said. “How is a basilisk believable but you draw the line at chicken dragons?”

“Who wouldn't draw the line at chicken dragons?” Hermione said.

Harry nodded, considering her point, and they both laughed.

Ginny went back to her reading, Pansy and Harry continued their complaints, and Draco tried to complete his work. Ron and Hermione were both going over Ron’s assignment.

Luna came skipping over to their table, her denim messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She took a seat beside Ron, reaching into her bag to retrieve a stack of cards.

“Look what I’ve got,” she showed Ron, spreading them out. “Theo got me them.”

Ron gawked at the cards. “I wish I had a rich boyfriend,” he said with a glance at Hermione.

“Does anyone want a reading?” Luna asked, shuffling her cards.

“Do one for me,” Ron said.

Luna picked cards and she and Ron muttered to each other about the meanings. Hermione’s insistence that divination was silly hadn't lessened, but neither had her general curiosity, and she listened in on what Ron and Luna were saying.

“Someone you've known for years,” she heard Luna say. “You’ve an equal energy exchange and strong connection.”

“And this. I think we balance each other.” Ron spoke with much less confidence than Luna.

“Yes. I’m seeing they are very honest and direct. The kind of person to catch you when you slip and put you back in your place.”

“Definitely,” Ron chuckled. He looked back to Hermione, who promptly turned her head but she'd already been caught staring. Ron just laughed and squeezed her hand.

“You’ve both learned a lot from each other,” Luna went on as she kept picking cards. “There’s a lot of trust here.”

Ron added his simple observances. “Nurture, love.”

“I think you have a good thing here,” Luna said. “Possibly an everlasting one if you nurture it properly.”

Hermione didn't want to believe the reading simply because she liked the sound of it, but she couldn't help the hope blossoming through her. If she was indeed the other person, which it sounded like, she hoped it was true. She wanted to love Ron forever.

“I guess we’re not doomed,” she said. “That’s exactly why I think all this is silly. How can you get an everlasting friendship and a ruined one?”

“He has more than one friend,” Luna pointed out.

“Let’s do one for Harry,” Ron said, taking the cards.

Harry perked up at hearing his own name. He didn't not believe in divination, he just agreed with Hermione that it was a very vague and confused practice. Ron and Luna poured over the cards and Harry listened for his reading.

“Alright,” Luna began. “Hmm. Oh. I’m seeing a conflict with another person. A sort of strange movement from them. You're not on the same level.”

“Possibly from a lack of communication,” Ron added.

“It looks like the other person is not very good at communication. They're hiding from you, keeping secrets, and it's causing a strain.”

That wasn't something happening currently, so Harry assumed this was a future reading. Possibly the doom Ron was talking about.

“You want to confront it head-on,” Ron said. “You’re both frustrated but you want to face the problem while they're drawing back.” He looked to Luna for confirmation.

“They’re more used to mind games and skirting around issues,” she said. “Maybe due to their past where it was never safe to talk about what’s going on and how they feel. Because of this, your confrontation, even though it's in their best interest, could feel like an attack to them.”

“This could be the cause of their hostility, defensiveness, avoidance,” Ron listed. “They're being petty, and they're, hmm, afraid of being the bad guy,” he quizzically observed. “Maybe because they do have some love for you, they do respect you, but they've got a lot of work to do with themselves.”

“They need time apart from you to be able to grow and come into the better version of themselves,” Luna said. “And if it’s meant to come back to you, it will.”

“This is stupid,” Harry decided. “Now that I know that, wouldn't I know when it's happening?”

“You might not,” Luna said. “And that won't stop it from happening if it's meant to.”

“I wouldn't worry about it too much,” Hermione said.

Harry tried not to. He tried not to guess which of his friends might be the other person in question. What would they be fighting about? Of course, they had fights, but not like that. If it started happening, he could simply confront it then and there before it got worse.

Ron and Luna kept quiet after that, keeping their readings to themselves. Harry tried to focus on his homework instead of the potential downfall of one of his friendships.

It was almost time for dinner, so he gave up his work, deciding he could focus better if he ate. He'd been really hungry all day. He left the table and the others followed shortly after to get ready for dinner.

On his way back to the Great Hall, Draco met him at the bottom of the stairs. The way he clung to Harry let him know Draco wanted something. Needed something, rather.

“Alright?”

“Fine. I've been having a bad day,” he said.

“Do you want to go down to the kitchens? Sometimes I do that when I don't want to be around everyone.”

Harry’s friends had grown used to him disappearing during dinner, and once he informed them of his whereabouts they stopped commenting on his absences. They just cared if he was being cared for.

“And we can see Dobby,” he added.

Draco nodded, slipping his hand into Harry’s. Harry led the way to the kitchen.

“How did you find the kitchens, anyway?” Draco asked. “I didn't know students knew where they were. All that sneaking around you three were always doing, wasn't it?”

“Actually,” Harry began. “I’ll show you later,” he changed his mind. “You have to see it.”

“Alright,” Draco said dubiously.

They reached the portrait passage to the kitchen, and Harry let them inside. They were, as usual, swarmed by house elves offering greetings and food. Dobby wove through the throng to the boys. He broke into a giddy grin when he saw Draco.

“Harry Potter has brought Master Draco. Dobby has heard all about the romance.” He giggled the last word.

“Have you?” Draco said, sending Harry a teasing glance.

“Harry Potter talks about Draco a lot. Not as much as Draco talked about Harry Potter.”

It was Harry’s turn to be amused, and Draco’s cheeks pinked.

“Hush. He doesn't need to know that.”

“Is that how you knew so much about me?” Harry asked Dobby. Dobby nodded, smiling still.

“Master Draco has always been very fond of Harry Potter. Draco must be very happy now.” He directed this at Draco as if to ask for confirmation.

“I believe that was top-secret information I gave you, Dobby.”

“Dobby doesn't keep Malfoy's secrets anymore.” Dobby’s smile didn't leave, but he became noticeably nervous.

Draco held out his hand, offering it to Dobby. “No, you don't.”

Dobby took Draco’s hand, beaming at him.

“Dobby is very happy to see an old friend.”

“Me too.”

Dobby pulled Draco’s arm, bringing him closer to speak quietly to him. “Is Master Draco happy with Harry Potter? Dobby knows how Draco did like Harry so.”

“I am happy,” Draco indulged him. “Very much.”

Dobby was very pleased with this answer. “Harry Potter is very happy as well. Harry Potter tells Dobby so.”

“Does he?” Draco smirked at Harry. “I didn't realize you had gossip sessions with the house elves.”

“I told you, I come down here a lot.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Dobby ushered. “Dobby will bring something to eat.”

“I’ll take anything,” Harry said. “I’m really hungry.”

“Dobby will bring Harry Potter a nice meal. What would Draco like?”

“Something easy. Maybe I’ll just eat off Harry’s plate.”

“Did you eat at all today?” Harry asked, wrapping his arm around Draco’s hips to pull him into his side.

“I did,” he said, then at Harry’s skeptical look, “I did, I swear. It’s just been a tough day.”

Dobby looked at him sympathetically. “Dobby will make something.”

Harry ate the dinner that was already prepared while Dobby made something for Draco. Draco ate a few carrots and half a boiled potato off Harry’s plate. He noticed Harry was eating a lot, and he wanted to ask, had wanted to for a while, but he didn't want to make Harry self-conscious about his eating. Harry seemed to be aware already because he pointed it out himself.

“I don't know why I'm so hungry. Have I eaten today? I always have trouble telling if I’m hungry or not.”

“You can’t tell?”

“I don't know. I can't tell if I'm full or not, either. That sounds weird, I know, but I can't feel it.”

“That can happen if you don't eat regularly.”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered. “How do I fix it?”

“Wish I knew, Harry.”

Harry laughed. “I’m sure that's fine.”

“Is it though?”

Harry shrugged, and both boys broke into laughter. Maybe not a solution, but laughter was, if not a curing one, the best medicine.

Dobby returned to the table with Draco’s food, setting the plate before him. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but Draco’s face lit up with surprise and a warmth Harry rarely saw. If ever. The thing on his plate looked like some kind of flaky cinnamon cream cheese pastry. Draco whispered a thank you to Dobby, receiving a very pleased look.

“Dobby used to make this for me when I was little,” Draco revealed. “I had to beg for it because Mum thought I shouldn't be eating it.”

“Why?”

“Too unhealthy. It's a dessert, but I'd have it for breakfast.”

“That’s cute,” Harry smiled and Draco turned his blushing face down toward his plate. “Is it good?” he asked after Draco took a bite.

Draco covered his mouth with his hand and hummed his approval.

“You should have it more often. It’s alright to eat dessert for breakfast sometimes. Or dinner.”

“I know,” Draco said, sounding unsure, but smiling slightly as he took another bite.

He offered Harry a bite. Harry smiled through it, even though he didn't think it tasted very good. The crust was too flaky and it seemed to be solely cream cheese.

“You don't like it,” Draco said with a smile.

Harry shook his head, covering his mouth as he laughed. Draco laughed, too, leaning his head against Harry’s.

“Has Madame Pomfrey said anything about you joining Quidditch practice?” Harry asked.

“Oh, um,” Draco said suddenly, drawing back. “I don't think I’m ready for that.” He looked down as he spoke. “I’m not sure I even want to play anymore.”

“What? Why?”

Draco kept his eye on his plate, poking at his dessert with his fork and keeping quiet.

Harry tilted his head, looking at Draco, but Draco wouldn't meet his eyes. “You were trying to sneak your way onto the team and now you don't want to play?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve come to prefer the sidelines, I suppose.”

“Okay,” Harry said, side-eyeing him as he refilled his plate.

That didn't sound true at all and Harry didn't believe it in the slightest. Whatever Draco’s real reason was for not wanting to play, Harry would figure it out. He had one thing decided, Draco wouldn’t readily tell him.

Chapter Text

Harry wasn't listening much as his friends chatted around him. The Great Hall was always noisy, and it didn't usually bother him, but it was often tuned out rather than partook in. He did catch snippets of Seamus, who was sitting directly across from him, singing Dean’s praises for some reason or other. Perhaps there was no occasion, maybe he just liked talking about Dean.

Dean wasn't here, for another reason Harry assumed had been shared but he wasn't paying enough attention to have heard. He wasn't listening and he could hardly focus on anything if he tried. His mind wandered aimlessly, Seamus laughed loudly, and voices rose and fell around him.

Harry filled his already full plate with more eggs and grabbed another croissant. Beside him, Hermione and Ron were talking, not paying him any mind. Not that they were ignoring him, he knew that, but they knew he wouldn't do much talking if they tried. They could usually tell when he was feeling like that. He tried to make an effort, to listen to them, or Seamus, but he could only continue his distracted semi-understanding of the conversations around him.

Instead of paying attention, Harry wondered at Seamus talking openly about Dean. The way he'd wondered when they ‘came out’ during kiss, marry, kill. Not only did no one seem to care, they seemed happy. Because they didn't care that they liked boys, they cared who liked boys. It was out of the ordinary, and therefore an obvious target. And everyone always seemed eager to jump on the Harry hate train. Did they really just hate him that much?

Harry’s thoughts drifted away from his relationship and his peers’ general dislike for him toward things like the classes he was dreading going to today. He felt something brush the back of his neck and he whipped his head around to see Draco behind him. He dropped something onto the table in front of Harry. It was a package, which he opened to reveal bags of colorful, assorted sweets.

“From my mum,” Draco said, slipping his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“That’s good, isn't it?” Harry asked, opening a bag of pastel French cremes. “Means she isn't upset?”

“Yeah,” Draco said distantly. Harry offered him a pink candy.

Behind them, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo approached the table, easily falling into conversation with the others. They either couldn't be away from Draco for too long or they wanted to hang out here and took any excuse to do so. Neither of those were things they'd readily admit, but Harry guessed there was truth to both of them.

Harry recalled his discussion with Ron and Neville and remembered Draco mentioning Theo also didn't have much interest in sexual things. He should ask him about it now. Draco was talking with Ron, so Harry used this moment to slip out of his seat and nudge Theo.

“Could we talk?” he whispered.

With nothing more than a questioning look, Theo followed Harry away from the table.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to ask if, er-” What did he want to ask? “If you- you don't like having sex, do you?”

“I wouldn't be having sex with you anyhow.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That's not what I meant. I mean, I know you don't like stuff like that, yeah? I had a question about it. If you don't mind, that is.”

Theo shrugged, stuffing his hands in his robe pockets. “Sure.”

“Do you get, er, horny?”

“No,” he answered without a moment's pause. “I don't desire it at all, I don't think about it, I don't feel it. Do you get horny?”

“Yes. But no, but I think I do. Maybe.”

“I would think you'd notice if you did, but I've never felt it so I wouldn't know. Are you concerned about that?”

“I mean, yes. I thought I didn't want that stuff but all of a sudden I've been feeling like I do.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harry.”

Harry felt weird hearing Theo use his first name. He usually only heard Potter from Draco’s friends.

“If you feel like you want something, do it. It doesn't have to mean anything or uproot your entire existence.”

Harry laughed a little. “I s’pose that's true. It's just weird that I thought something about myself and I it's not actually true.”

“Maybe it was true,” Theo offered. “But it’s not anymore. If so, it doesn't matter now.”

“I guess not. How would you feel?”

“If I started getting horny randomly?” he asked, his pale lips forming a slight smile. “Likely very confused. But you shouldn't dwell on it. If you do what makes you comfortable you can’t go wrong. Luna told me that.”

Harry nodded. She was onto something. Her and Theo’s relationship seemed very comfortable, despite causing confusion among others. But it didn't matter. It was their relationship. It only concerned the two of them.

“Does Luna, you know?” Harry said. If that was an inappropriate question, Theo didn't seem to care.

“We’ve talked about it. She likes some things, but she doesn't want it, exactly. Not very much. I don't know, I barely understand anything like that.”

“Same,” he huffed.

Harry had one more question but it was put on hold by Luna’s appearance. She skipped up to Theo and handed him a piece of parchment. Harry couldn't see it very well, but he got enough of a glimpse to see it was one of her drawings. Theo proudly showed it off to Harry.

“Look how handsome I look.”

Harry nodded. “Bit too handsome. Not very realistic.”

Theo glared at him and turned back to Luna with a smile. He held his arms out to her. “May I have a hug?”

“No, thank you. But you can have a kiss.” She stood on her tiptoes and Theo accepted her kiss.

Harry laughed internally at their height difference. Theo was a lot taller than Luna, so much so that there was a lot of bending down and tiptoes between them. It was cute. Harry wasn't that much shorter than Draco, though Draco didn't let him forget the difference, but even with Draco being a nuisance Harry liked being shorter than him. He never liked feeling small until he was wrapped in Draco’s arms being kissed on the head.

“I have one more question,” Harry remembered. “How do I know if Draco is, er, feeling like that?”

“Just ask him,” Theo said like that was the obvious and only answer.

“Feels like what?” Luna asked.

“Horny,” Theo replied.

“Oh, I know. He’ll look at you like this.” The stare Luna gave him was not one he'd ever seen from Draco. It looked like she was ogling a particularly mouth-watering cake, lips parted and eyes wide.

“It can be a bit confusing,” Luna said. “But I think that's what that means.”

“Got it.” He wondered where she had gotten that from, but he didn't ask.

From his spot at the Gryffindor’s table, Draco noticed Harry talking to Theodore. He didn't think he'd ever seen them speak before. He wondered what they were talking about, and why it was so important they needed to be away from the others to discuss it. He decided he would ask Harry about it later.

He didn't bring it up until the next day. It was Saturday and Harry, Ron, and Ginny had spent the evening getting in extra Quidditch practice time. Draco attended to other important tasks rather than watching them and came up to the Gryffindor common room later to wait for Harry. Ron and Ginny returned without him and Ginny informed him Harry was in the bath.

None of them stuck around with him, Hermione dragging Ron and her color-coordinated study notes to the library, and Ginny going off to meet Pansy. Draco was left alone awkwardly sticking out among the Gryffindor, a snake in the middle of the lion’s den. He'd been here plenty of times now, but never alone.

He went up to Harry’s room to wait for him. He didn't know who else he shared a room with besides Ron, but it was nearly empty. Nearly other than the presence of Neville Longbottom. Draco stood awkwardly in the doorframe, he and Neville locked in an uncomfortable staredown.

“Hey,” Neville spoke first. “Harry’s not here.”

“Right, yes, I know. I was going to wait for him. But I can come back later.”

“It’s fine,” Neville said, walking over to the window where two different potted plants sat on the sill.

Draco reluctantly entered the room, taking a seat on Harry’s bed. He watched Neville tend to his plants and debated if he should say something to him. Embarrassingly, he went with, “How are you?”

“Hm?” Neville lifted his head, looking questioningly at Draco. “Oh, fine. How are you?”

“Alright,” Draco said, thinking up something better to talk about. “You're quite good at Herbology. Do you think you would pursue a career in it?”

“I think so, yeah” Neville answered, not sounding very confident. “I think my gran would rather I become an Auror or work for the Ministry or something.”

“Since I was little I've always liked the idea of being a potioneer or a professor, even. But I probably won't need a job like that, anyway.”

“Right. Nepotism.” Neville said it with a smile, so Draco knew he didn't mean any harm. He was making a joke. The way a friend would.

“Precisely.”

“You could still have a normal job, can't you? You could be a potioneer.”

“I suppose so. But off the topic of me, you shouldn't let your grandmother dictate your life choices.”

“And you shouldn’t let your family dictate yours,” Neville replied. He gave Draco a friendly smile, and Draco noticed he was kind of cute. In a platonic “I never really looked at you” sort of way.

“I won't,” Draco said. Why he was promising such things to Neville, he wasn't sure. They certainly weren't true anyway. “Neville?”

“Yeah.”

“I, em, I would like to apologize for the way I've treated you in the past.” He thought he should say more than just that, but he didn't want his apology to become an over-the-top gesture.

Neville looked surprised and when he turned to look at Draco his elbow knocked into one of his pots. He set his wand down to right it.

“Thanks.” Neville didn't sound like he was brushing it off or being cold, more like he didn't know what to say. Draco wanted him to know he was being genuine.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for a lot of things I've done.”

“I know you are. And I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” Neville said, then he smiled at Draco. “You know, when the jokes aren't directed at me you're actually quite funny.”

Draco’s animated personality still entertained and at times annoyed his schoolmates, but his jokes didn't carry the malicious intent they used to.

“If you-” Neville started but was interrupted by Harry entering the room.

He was in pajamas and had a towel slung over his shoulders. Whatever Neville was going to say slipped Draco’s mind as he stared. He looked too good for such a casual display.

“I was going to go to the greenhouse,” Neville announced. “I have some things I need to work on.”

“Isn't it kind of late?” Harry asked.

“Professor Sprout lets me stay there late so long as I'm back here at night.”

Harry shrugged as Neville headed out. He seemed to notice Draco for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Harry smiled to himself, hanging his towel over the end of the bed frame.

“Oh, Harry? What were you and Theo talking about the other day?”

Harry looked like he was trying to recall the conversation, or deciding whether or not he wanted to tell Draco. He pulled his glasses off, using his shirt to clean them. “Nothing important,” he said.

Suspicious. Why wasn't Harry telling him? Draco fixed him with a dubious expression so he would know he was on to him. Harry didn't seem to notice.

His face glistened with drops of water sliding down his skin. His curls were wet and sticking up in a mess making him look like he'd tried to shake himself dry like a dog. It didn't work, because his wet hair was still dripping onto his face. There were water spots speckling his t-shirt.

The shirt was yellow and the picture on it, the face of a man with large, fiery red hair, was faded. It said David Bowie 1973 on it in red letters, a lighting bolt streaking beneath the name. There were holes in the hem, but whether it was a style choice or because of how old Draco guessed the shirt was, he didn't know.

Harry was in his boxers, something that distracted Draco from his earlier suspicious state. He tried not to look, he tried to focus on Harry’s other lovely features, but it didn't help much. Harry was attractive from head to toe and Draco was mesmerized just staring at him with his soggy hair and old t-shirt. Draco lifted his gaze to Harry’s face to find he was staring back just as intensely.

“Draco?”

“Yes,” he said, hoping that one word wouldn't betray any of his previous thoughts.

“Are you horny?”

Draco was shocked by the bluntness of the question, so much so that it made him laugh. “Pardon?”

“Are you horny?” Harry asked again. “Right now.”

“Why are you asking me that?” He was a bit, actually. Had it been that obvious?

Harry recalled what Luna had said, how people look when they're horny. The stare. Draco was doing the stare.

“You look horny.”

“Do I?” he laughed, then became more serious. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you are. I'm horny too.”

“You are? I thought you were immune to such things.”

“I thought I was, too. It kind of came out of nowhere.” Harry hadn't done well explaining it, to his friends or every time he'd practiced telling Draco in his head. “I just started feeling it. I was confused and I didn't want to be weird so I didn't tell you.”

“I think we've passed the point in our relationship where you need to worry about seeming weird,” Draco said. “I've known you were weird since we met.”

“Ha ha.” Harry rolled his eyes, then focused them on Draco, piercing and full of want. “Come here,” he beckoned.

Draco did as he was told, pulling Harry in by the waist. Harry kissed Draco, passionate, and hungry, and unlike their usual kisses. Not that Harry had never been passionate, but this was different. It was spicy.

“Harry, wait,” Draco gasped, pulling away. “We should talk about this.”

“Do you know what you're doing?”

“No.”

“Me neither. We can talk, or go as slowly as you’d like, but I want-” he cut himself off. “Do you want to?”

“I- yes, yes, I do. But I have a lot of questions and I don't want to rush anything.”

“Are they important questions?” Harry asked, furrowing his brows.

“I'm a bit confused.”

“Could we talk about it later? I’ll explain as much as I can.”

“Yeah. Yes, sure.” Draco had barely answered when Harry pulled him in again, pressing their hips together.

Draco stroked his fingers down Harry’s back to the waistband of his pants. “Sit on the bed.”

“Ooh, commanding,” Harry laughed.

“Shut up.”

They climbed into Harry’s bed together, Harry lying down and Draco sitting in front of him.

“How do you want to…” Harry gestured at their positions, Draco sitting back on his heels, and Harry lying back on his elbows, knees bent and legs spread. Draco noticed there were scars on the inside of Harry’s thighs, but he tried to ignore them.

“What are we doing?” Draco asked. “What would you like me to do?”

“I don't know,” Harry said, a bit too irritably. He really didn't have any clue what they were supposed to be doing, he just wanted to do it. “Just touch me.”

Draco smirked and lifted Harry’s shirt. Harry sat up so he could pull it off. He adjusted his glasses, knocked askew by his clothes being hastily torn off.

“Do you want to take those off?” Draco said.

“Not yet. I want to look at you.”

“Are you that blind?” Draco joked.

“Shut up and touch me already.”

“You're so impatient. Give me a moment, won't you.” Draco took the liberty to assess how turned on Harry was, reaching a hand between them and eliciting a string of moans.

Draco kissed Harry again, bumping noses and Harry’s glasses. Draco brought his kisses down Harry’s neck, his shoulders, his chest. He nipped at his collarbones, taking note of Harry’s reaction. It was one of pleasure, and Draco kept going, grazing his teeth along Harry’s skin, kissing and biting him.

“Is it alright if I kiss your arms?” Draco asked.

“Uh, sure.”

Harry didn't know what Draco found so appealing about his marred arms, but he seemed to enjoy himself as he planted kisses over his scars. Harry didn't want to say it, but he thought it was a bit silly. He did like it, though, even if it amused him a little. It made him feel wanted, like Draco desired every part of him, even the parts he'd ruined. And even if it was silly, Harry loved every silly minute of it.

Harry shivered as Draco moved his way down his body, kissing his hips and lingering there. Harry lifted Draco’s chin to look at him and tugged at his shirt.

“Take this off. I want to look at you.”

Draco crawled up to straddle Harry and unbuttoned his blouse. Harry assisted him, and pulled it off, carefully because he knew Draco would kill him if he did anything to his fancy shirt.

Harry trailed his hands over Draco’s body, bringing him closer. His hands circled his waist, his teeth scraped his shoulders and bit his fingers. Draco’s thighs wrapped around him, their bodies pressed together. Harry reached down to unbutton Draco’s trousers.

“What are we doing?” Draco asked.

“I don't know.”

“I don't know either.”

“I want you to shag me.”

Draco stared at him, lips parted as he processed this request.

“Do you want to?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I do,” Draco assured.

“Are you alright being on top?”

“I've never done it either way. I don't mind trying.”

“Yeah. Me too. Next time we can try it the other way.”

Harry grazed a hand over Draco’s chest, then reached for his wand on the nightstand. Draco watched as he summoned something from a backpack lying on the floor beside one of the other boys’ beds. It was a tube of something and condoms. Harry picked up the tube, flipping the lid and holding it out to Draco.

“What is this for?”

“Lubrication. I know we have spells for that, but that means less touching.” Harry took Draco’s hand.

“I’m supposed to apply it with my hand?” Draco raised his brows, but he was intrigued more than anything.

“Only if you want to.”

“Alright.” He let Harry drop the colorless gel onto his fingers.

His stomach turned in anticipation as Harry got completely naked. Draco kissed Harry as he carefully pushed a finger inside him. Harry arched his back, gasping.

“Does that hurt?”

Harry shook his head. It felt surprisingly wonderful. “You could hurry up though.”

“I don't want to hurt you. Stop being so mean to me.”

Harry huffed. “Sorry.”

Draco chuckled, nipping at Harry’s thigh. A small pained whine escaped Harry’s throat and Draco immediately stopped moving his finger.

“It's not that,” Harry said. “It- could you not bite my scars? It hurts.”

“Sorry, baby.” Draco kissed Harry’s thigh where he'd bit him. He resumed his pace, gentle but steady, slowly adding another finger.

“What’s the best way to do this? I don't want to hurt you.”

“I don't know, I've never done this before.”

Harry could tell Draco was worried, he was nervous too but Draco was holding the responsibility of Harry’s comfort.

“I’ll tell you what feels good,” Harry promised. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Now get on with it.”

Draco pulled his fingers out, making Harry gasp in surprise at the sudden loss of feeling. Draco kissed him on the mouth, squeezing his hip.

“Do you want to get on top of me?” he asked. “So I can see you. It might be a little easier than if I did it this way.”

“Okay.”

Harry didn't care how they did it, he just wanted it. He was aching and impatient. He was riding this rush and he didn't want it to stop. He would love to make it last longer, but he was afraid it would disappear, and he wanted Draco to take him further before it did.

Draco pulled off his trousers and lay down, readying himself. Harry took in the sight of him, his fingers tracing over his slender thighs. He squeezed them, feeling the firmness.

“Your legs feel strong,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Draco smiled, more to himself than Harry. It was a smile Harry recognized as one of a timid pride for his own accomplishments.

Harry climbed on top of Draco, both of their bodies tensing. He tried to forcibly relax. Draco held Harry’s thighs, and Harry’s hands gripped Draco’s upper arms as he tried to situate himself.

Draco circled his fingers soothingly. “Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“Take your time,” Draco guided, his voice soothing.

Draco pushed forward into him, slowly, and Harry let out a string of shaky gasps. He’d dismissed Draco’s earlier worries, but it did hurt, more so than he'd expected.

Draco’s grip tightened, steadying Harry. He wiped a tear from Harry’s cheek. “Should I stop?”

Harry took off his glasses. “No. No, don't. I'm alright.”

He wanted this. He just needed to get used to it. The pleasure that swelled in him was greater than the discomfort, Draco’s deliberate movements creating an intoxicating sensation. Harry was high on emotions.

Draco’s hair was messy from Harry’s hands in it. His cheeks and lips were bright pink, also courtesy of Harry, and his body flushed and sweaty. He looked beautiful like that. Perfect.

“You're beautiful,” Harry said breathlessly.

Draco only whimpered in response, looking up at Harry through glistening eyes. He moved his hips back and forth, searching Harry’s face for any signs of satisfaction or pain. Harry felt both, but he'd heard people say it hurt the first time. He didn't care, he loved this. He liked being this close to Draco, feeling him, seeing him like this. Harry treasured his and Draco’s intimate moments, and this was another he'd cherish, uncomfortable or not.

Harry squirmed, Draco steadied his pace as well as he could, and they both asked through heavy breaths and moans if the other was alright. Harry was more than alright. He let out a little huff of laughter, just because he was so happy. Draco laughed too, just because Harry did.

Harry didn't last very long, and neither did Draco, finishing himself with a few strokes as Harry curled into his side.

“Was that alright?” Draco asked, running a hand through his messy hair.

Harry didn't answer. He felt suddenly empty and bereft, the loss of sensation hitting him. The rush of emotions running through him had taken their course and were now gone, leaving him with nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked softly, lying on his side to face Harry.

Harry didn't know how to answer and he didn't want to. His high had been replaced with the exact opposite, an extreme low. Not like he'd never felt before, but very sudden.

Draco stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. “Do you want to shower?”

Harry shook his head.

“Let me clean you up.”

Draco cleaned both of them with a cleaning charm, the tingle of the magic giving Harry a bit of feeling but not nearly enough to remove him from his freshly sunken state. Draco pulled the blanket over him.

“Do you want to cuddle?”

Harry didn't feel like cuddling, he didn't feel like doing anything. Instead of answering, he started crying. He couldn't see Draco’s reaction, but he felt his arms around him and heard his soothing words.

“Shut up,” Harry muttered. Draco’s comforting him felt jarring.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Just shut up,” Harry said, his cries not ceasing. Draco complied, holding him in silence.

Harry didn't know how long he cried, but eventually, he stopped, and he and Draco lay together like that for an hour. Long enough for Harry to gather the strength and clarity to speak.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what that was.”

Draco cupped his face, his thumb stroking his cheek, and kissed his nose. “You don't have to apologize, it’s a lot, I know. Did you get overwhelmed?”

Harry didn't know how to explain what just happened to Draco. He tried his best, but his explanation didn't sound any more normal than it had felt. Draco nodded like he understood but Harry knew he didn't.

“But you're not hurt or anything?”

“No. It was nice.”

“Alright. Good.” Draco kissed him. “What do you want to do now?”

“Sleep.” He didn't want Draco here, but he didn't know how to ask him to leave without hurting his feelings. Luckily, Draco took care of it for him.

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Go,” Harry mumbled.

“Alright. I love you.”

“Thank you.”

Draco brought Harry’s hand to his lips, kissed it, and slipped out of bed. He didn't want Harry to think he was upset with him because of this. He didn't understand all of Harry’s moods and feelings, but he wanted to take care of him through them. He wanted him to know that he wasn't a bother or a puzzle Draco was trying to put back together, he just wanted him and wanted to be there. He could tell Harry all that when he was in a talking mood.

Chapter Text

The morning was misty, a light fog settling over the hills and the air more damp than crisp. It still carried that pleasant smell that could only be described as autumn. The golden and mahogany leaves crunched beneath Harry’s boots, a few stray dewy ones sticking to them.

Pansy adjusted her beanie. Her nose was pink from the wind. She was wearing a little skirt like she was most of the time when she was out of uniform. Her mostly sheer tights didn't seem like they added much warmth. Hermione and Harry weren't dressed that much more sensibly. Harry’s jeans were covered in rips and Hermione was also wearing a short skirt, her tights barely thicker. She did have long socks and boots on at least.

Pansy took a deep breath of the cool air and Hermione clutched her mug of tea tighter. It wasn't as warm as it had been when she'd come outside. More often than not, Hermione could be found with a hot drink in her hand. Especially when she was reading. She had been reading in the courtyard (why she liked sitting out in the cold so much they didn't know) when Pansy disturbed her with an important question. One she never got to ask because Harry came to Hermione for similar reasons.

They headed inside, Harry wiping the leaves off his boots before entering the castle. He wiped his wet fingers on his coat. They went up to Gryffindor Tower, to the boys’ room like always. Hermione had promised to address both their situations once they were inside.

Hermione pulled off her coat, adjusted her cardigan, and folded the coat neatly, placing it on the end of Ron’s bed. Pansy did the same and Harry let his fall to the floor. Hermione picked it up, throwing it onto his bed, and walking toward the window. There was a candle sitting on the sill, one she had put there since they spent so much time in here, and she wanted to make it cozier and seasonal. She retrieved her wand from her coat to light it. It smelled like an autumn dessert, like pumpkin cake and frosting.

Harry watched her from the window seat. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and waited for Hermione to settle down so he could start talking.

“What is this?” Pansy asked.

Hermione and Harry had walked right past it, well used to seeing what she was referring to. They were surprised she never had. In the space between Ron and Dean’s beds was a blanket fort made up of all the blankets and pillows in the room. It had been put to use last night and hadn't yet been cleaned up, likely to be used again. The boys talked for hours into the night and frequently fell asleep on the floor like that.

“It’s a blanket fort,” Hermione answered, pulling off her boots and crawling into it. Pansy joined her and Harry hopped off the window seat and followed after. He wrapped himself in Ron’s patchwork quilt.

“Can I talk now?” Harry asked.

“Why do you get to go first? I have important stuff to say.”

“So do I.”

“Harry asked first,” Hermione said. Pansy directed a pout at Harry, but she conceded.

“Okay, so Draco and I,” he started quickly but was instantly embarrassed. He didn't want to tell them all about that. “Well, er, we, you know, did it.”

“It?” Pansy questioned. “Like, did it, did it?”

“Yes, that. So I guess I was normal all along, it just took me a minute.”

“You think you're normal?” Pansy said.

Hermione shot her a glare. “What she means is you were always perfectly normal. There is absolutely nothing wrong with not wanting to have sex.”

“Yeah, Theodore doesn't like anything that has to do with sex or romance,” Pansy said. “He's completely normal. In that aspect, anyway.”

“I just mean, you know, I am in a relationship.”

“So?”

“So I can feel like I’m in a normal one. So Draco can.”

“No, you can't,” Hermione said. “I mean, yes, of course, you are, but that has nothing to do with it.”

“Harry,” Pansy said. “You and Draco are just as weird as you always were. Sex doesn't make you normal or fixed. It’s not even that important. It’s just a thing that some people like and some people don’t.”

“Yeah, but it's an important thing when you're dating, isn't it?”

Pansy shook her head and Hermione frowned at him. She looked rather angry at Harry for daring to suggest there was something wrong with him.

“But this means I can feel something. It’s not just nothing. It feels good. I felt happy.”

Hermione’s anger became sympathy. She laid her hand on Harry’s but Pansy was the one to speak.

“If you're happier now, that's great for you. But it shouldn't be because you think you're normal now.”

“Not sure it's working all that well anyway,” Harry said. “I cried for about an hour after we did it and we haven't done it since. I haven't really wanted to either. Maybe a few, like, tingles here and there but not really.”

“Tingles?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing. I just mean I don't think my, I don't know, sex drive is even very strong. I've been fully aroused like twice ever.”

“Ew,” Pansy uttered.

“That’s okay, Harry,” Hermione assured. “There isn't anything wrong with that. You know that's okay, right? It's normal.”

Harry nodded, not very convincingly.

“Harry.”

“I know, I know. It just doesn't feel normal.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “That’s okay. It’s okay to feel weird sometimes. You can always talk to me about it.”

“The only thing wrong with you is the way you rudely interrupt people,” Pansy said.

“You weren't even talking yet.”

Hermione fixed her attention on Pansy. “You can go ahead now. You're finished, Harry?”

Harry nodded and Pansy explained her predicament.

“On the topic of having sex, I never have, and I don't know what to do. I want to be prepared.”

“I wasn't prepared,” Harry said. “You can figure it out as you go.”

“Yeah, but you're a fool. I don't want to look stupid.”

“Why would you think I have any tips for you?” Hermione asked.

“Because Ron’s, you know,” she waved her hands in front of her skirt. “And you two have sex. So you must know something.”

“I think if you simply ask Ginny what she likes you’ll be fine. You shouldn't expect perfection the first time.”

“But what do I do?”

“It’s not as complicated as you think. Here.” Hermione took a pillow and placed it behind Pansy. “Lie on that.”

Pansy did, and Hermione adjusted it beneath her back. She put another one beneath her head. “Comfy?”

Pansy nodded, swallowing hard. Hermione sat between her legs, keeping eye contact.

“Alright, so the first thing is, like I said, ask her what she wants. Check up on her, ask her if it feels good, what she wants, all that. And look at her like this.”

Hermione’s focus was intense as always. It made Pansy nervous even though her only job right now was to lie back and listen.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, thinking up more helpful tips. “Oh, I know.”

She hopped up and retrieved her bag, pulling out the book she was reading earlier. She opened it to a specific page and handed it to Harry. “Read this,” she instructed and knelt in front of Pansy again. Harry began reading out a scene where the characters were in the same scenario Hermione and Pansy were oddly acting out. Hermione paused him several times to offer explanations and tips.

“Be gentle. Take your time. Pay attention to her reactions.”

She explained different motions and talked about pace and the importance of foreplay, while Pansy sat before her, legs open like she was waiting for something.

“This book is so stupid,” Harry remarked. “I can't believe you read this.”

“It has better parts.”

“It’s gross. Can we stop now?”

“I’m just trying to walk through the scene. And it's not that bad. I've read much worse.”

Harry put on an exaggerated sultry voice as he read. “His large hands gripped her thighs as he devoured her like she was his favorite meal.” He barely finished the sentence when the three of them burst into laughter.

“Just stick your face in there and give it your best,” Harry said.

Hermione whacked his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Pansy. I doubt Ginny will think less of you.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Just be,” he looked down at the book, “Insanely intense. Wow.”

Just as Harry read another sentence, Neville walked into the room. He took in the situation, the blanket fort, the girls’ positions, and Harry’s bit of dialogue.

Pansy lifted her head, grinning at him. “Hi, Neville.”

“Hey, Pansy,” he said, still quite confused.

Harry handed Hermione her book. “Have we learned quite enough?”

“Yes, I think so,” Hermione determined. “You’ll be fine, Pansy.”

Pansy sat up, straightening her outfit. “Hopefully.”

Pansy kept that little lesson in mind throughout their next school week. She should have taken Ginny’s advice to explore when she had the chance, but she'd been too scared then. She still felt scared about it. Maybe she should just wait until Ginny brought it up. They hadn't even talked about anything like that.

But Pansy couldn't stop thinking about having sex with Ginny. Not in a weird way. She didn't spend all day staring at Ginny wishing they were having sex. No, it wasn't like that. It was that she'd never had sex with a girl before and she was terrified of the idea. Because she wanted to.

It was stupid how scared she was. She was dating a girl, she had kissed her and touched her, and worst of all admitted to liking her. But if someone were to ask, she still felt like she would say she didn't like girls. She wouldn't say she was embarrassed or even ashamed of being with Ginny, but she felt so uncomfortable saying she was someone who liked girls. She was a-

That word she couldn't even bring herself to say, even in the privacy of her mind. The L word.

They were sitting in Ginny’s bed, Ginny in front of her with her head bent over her potions work. Everything about her was gorgeous, every little feature. Her freckles dotting her face, the concentrated downward turn of her thin, light pink lips, the loose strands of ginger hair falling out of her ponytail. Pansy wasn't doing homework, only pretending to while she stared at Ginny.

“Pansy?” Ginny looked up from her books.

“Yes?”

“What do you know about the medicinal properties of shrivelfigs?”

“Do I look like a healer to you?”

Ginny pulled her lips into a pout. “I thought you were good at potions.”

“I can't remember every little thing.”

Ginny sighed and closed her book, setting it aside. “Whatever, I’ll finish that later.”

“Good,” Pansy said, moving closer to Ginny. “I’m bored.”

Ginny placed her hand on Pansy’s thigh, right above her knee. She could feel Ginny’s tantalizing touch through the fabric of her trousers. She always did that, and Pansy always thought about her moving higher. What was wrong with her? Did she just so badly want to be touched by a girl? She didn't want just any girl, she wanted Ginny, but it didn't make much difference. She felt guilty all the same.

“What do you want to do?” Ginny asked.

“I, um.” She wanted Ginny to touch her more. She wanted Ginny to kiss her and take her. To love her like a girl.

Pansy brushed a strand of hair off Ginny’s face, trailing her fingers down to her neck. It was tantalizing, the tiny touch, Ginny’s skin beneath her fingers. She leaned in to press a kiss to her neck, dragging her lips deliberately toward her collarbones, tugging at the neckline of her loose jumper. She smelled flowery, like roses.

Ginny placed her fingers beneath Pansy’s chin, tilting her head upward. She was smiling but Pansy apologized anyway.

“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed, and pulled back.

“It’s fine,” Ginny chuckled. “I don't mind. I'd prefer it over homework, anyhow.”

It. What was it? What were they doing?

“We shouldn't.”

“Why shouldn't we?” Ginny laughed like this wasn't a serious matter.

“I don't want to.”

Ginny’s amusement twisted into confusion and she moved her hand off Pansy’s thigh. “Oh. Alright.”

Pansy did want to, but there was a nagging part of her that didn't. She didn't want to be this way. She couldn't even pinpoint why. Maybe it was her parents, pureblood and societal expectations, or perhaps her own deep-rooted ideas that this wasn't normal.

“Pansy?”

“Yes?”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I'm sorry.”

Ginny took Pansy’s hand, watching her with an inviting face. Not like she was waiting for her to say something, but welcoming her to do so.

“Your parents have a good relationship,” Pansy said. “They seem to love each other a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you want that? A happy, domestic life.”

Ginny’s confusion returned. “Well, yes, I do. I've always thought so.”

You won't get that with me, Pansy wanted to say. But it wasn't just about her. Ginny wouldn't get that with any girl.

“Being with a girl is giving that up.” Pansy didn't know why she was trying to steer Ginny away from this, but she felt the need to.

“It doesn't have to be,” Ginny disagreed. “We can't have kids, maybe, but we can love each other just as much. That's what I want most.”

“But it's not the same,” Pansy said. “You won't ever have that. Being with a girl creates all sorts of problems because it’s unusual and improper. Being with a man would ensure you a pleasant, normal life.”

Ginny, surprisingly, smiled. She nuzzled Pansy’s nose. “But it wouldn't be very fun, would it?”

“No, I don't think it would,” Pansy agreed.

“I know what you mean.” Ginny cupped Pansy’s face. “You want to feel normal and safe. But do you know what feels better than both those things?”

Warmth flowered through Pansy’s belly at Ginny’s closeness. “What?”

“Being free.”

Pansy accepted the kiss Ginny pulled her into. If feeling free felt like this it might be better than feeling normal. And if this wasn't real love, then maybe Pansy didn't want to be in love.

“Do you want to know something wild?” Ginny asked.

“Hm?”

“Harry’s godfather, he was with a man. They weren’t actually married, but they practically were.”

“He was?”

Ginny nodded, proud to disclose this information. “And they really loved each other. Like, a lot. Just like my parents. They may not have been able to get married officially, but they had the same love.”

“That’s very nice, Ginny.”

“It is nice.”

“I know,” Pansy laughed. “I'm being serious. It's lovely. You should tell your mum that.”

“Don't make this about me, now.” Ginny pushed Pansy onto the bed, climbing on top of her and covering her face with kisses.

Ginny slid her knee between Pansy’s thighs. Pansy undid Ginny’s ponytail, letting her hair fall free so she could run her hands through it.

Ginny kissed her jaw, nipping at her. Pansy gasped in surprise and Ginny smiled teasingly.

“Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to show me how good freedom feels?”
Ginny laughed. “That’s so cheesy, I can't believe you just said that.”

“Is that a no or?” Pansy slipped her hands around Ginny’s waist, into the back pockets of her jeans. She loved it when Ginny wore these jeans.

“Depends. What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know,” Pansy said, her need battling with her shame. She craved this, but she still felt gross for wanting it.

“Are you afraid that once I put my gay hands on you that’ll be the point of no return?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, but Ginny’s teasing wasn't too far off from her real fears.

“I’m not doing anything unless you're one hundred percent sure you want it,” Ginny said. “You don't have to make up your mind right this second. We could just kiss and see what happens.”

“Yeah. That sounds alright.”

“Okay,” Ginny smiled.

She kissed Pansy’s cheek, then captured her mouth. Her hands stayed put, caressing only Pansy’s face or arms. Pansy’s hands wandered, sliding over Ginny’s hips and down her thighs.

Ginny laughed softly into Pansy’s neck and kissed her there. “Your earrings are pretty,” she said, placing a kiss right below her ear.

“You should pierce yours.”

“They are.” Ginny pulled her hair back to reveal the tiny butterfly-shaped stud in her earlobe.

“I know, but one is so boring.” Pansy showed off her own, three small matching hoop earrings in each ear.

Ginny chuckled, taking one of Pansy’s earrings in her teeth and tugging it slightly. She covered her jaw in kisses, lingering and with a slow, burning pace made it down to her shoulders and chest. Pansy undid the first few buttons of her top, an invitation for Ginny to go further.

Ginny undid the rest of the buttons, slowly so Pansy could tell her to stop if she wanted. She kissed and licked at her body with every inch of skin she exposed. She slid Pansy’s top off her arms and continued the tantalizing exploration of her body. Every touch drove Pansy mad, sending waves of desire coursing through her.

Ginny peppered kisses over the exposed swell of Pansy’s breasts, sliding her fingers under the lacey edge of her cream-colored bra. Pansy pressed forward into Ginny’s kisses. She reached behind her back and managed through the awkward angle to get ahold of her bra clasps.

“Can I take my bra off?”

“If you want to.”

Pansy undid her bra and slipped out of it, tossing it off the side of the bed. Ginny smiled, slow and satisfied, taking in the sight of her. Her pace was agonizingly slow as she touched her. Pansy knew it was because she didn't want to cause any discomfort, but it was almost unbearable.

The first brush of Ginny’s tongue made her gasp, and Ginny looked up. To check on her, as Hermione had said. Pansy brushed a hand through Ginny’s long hair and smiled at her. “Don’t stop now.”

Ginny smirked and continued, her tongue swirling over Pansy’s sensitive skin, followed by the heat of her mouth. Feeble whimpers escaped Pansy’s throat. Ginny’s long hair tickled Pansy’s skin as she moved across her body.

Pansy loved the sight of Ginny on top of her. Heat and desire built up inside her, and as much as she wanted to savor the moment, she needed more. She pressed her hips forward, along Ginny’s thigh which was still positioned between her legs. Pansy gasped at the same time Ginny moaned. Ginny’s eyes met hers and they both giggled.

Ginny moved down Pansy’s stomach with kisses and stopped at the waistline of her trousers. She lavished attention on her waist, her hands resting on her thighs. She tugged at Pansy’s waistband with her teeth, and Pansy felt her face flush. Her desire for Ginny to touch her was building up by the second. Ginny’s eyes darted over Pansy’s half-naked body and Pansy felt her gaze slide over her like a physical caress.

“Do you want to take your trousers off?” Ginny asked.

Pansy let out a breath. “Yes. No. I don't know. What would you do if I did?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Take your shirt off?” Pansy requested.

Ginny looked all too happy to fulfill this request as she pulled off her sweater. She was wearing a pale green seamless bra. Her chest certainly wasn't as flat as Pansy’s own, something she was terribly self-conscious about. Ginny didn't seem like she minded in the slightest. Quite the opposite, it appeared.

Ginny took her bra off, too. Pansy felt guilty for staring and averted her gaze. Ginny laughed and gave Pansy’s hip a playful squeeze.

“You can look,” she said.

Pansy turned her now very embarrassed gaze back to Ginny. She pictured this in her head a few times now but it was even better than she'd imagined. Ginny positioned herself on top of Pansy, straddling her. She still wore an amused smile, her laughter probably not very far behind.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Pansy said, her breathing getting heavier. “I've just never done this before.”

“Neither have I.” Ginny brushed Pansy’s hair behind her ears and kissed her. Pansy hummed softly against her mouth.

“Ginny,” she breathed.

“Hmm?”

Pansy’s fingers dusted over Ginny’s sides and over her back. She pulled her closer, kissing her neck and her shoulders. She nipped at her collarbone, dragging her teeth and tongue over her skin. She bit her shoulder gently. Ginny’s reaction alone was almost enough to send Pansy completely over the edge. Her soft moans, the way she tensed under Pansy’s touch.

Pansy brought her hands around to cup Ginny’s breasts. She divided her focus between Ginny’s chest and her face so she could watch for a pleasured expression. Ginny stared down at her, shining bitten-red lips parted and her warm eyes pouring deep into Pansy’s.

Pansy took Ginny in her mouth just as Ginny had earlier done to her. She wasn't really sure what to do, but even the slight flicking of her tongue seemed to be good enough for Ginny.

Pansy, very boldly, slid one finger down Ginny’s abdomen, stopping at the button of her jeans. She gave a slight tug. A request.

“Do you want me to take my jeans off?” Ginny asked her.

“I don't want you to do anything if you don't want to.”

“If you want to stop, at any point, tell me,” Ginny said.

“Mmhm,” Pansy hummed. She stroked Ginny through her jeans, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“I’m being serious, Pansy.”

“I know you are.” Pansy looked her in the eye with all the sincerity she could convey and stroked her again.

Ginny wasted no time in discarding her jeans. Her pants were green, too, but a lighter shade than her bra.

“Could we, um, switch?” Pansy asked, her sudden burst of confidence waning.

“Yeah, course.”

They switched positions so Ginny could lie down and Pansy could put that little lesson to good use. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of Ginny’s pants, slipping them down her legs.

“Do you want to use your fingers or your mouth?” Ginny asked.

Pansy looked up at her in surprise. She hadn't thought about using her fingers, but it couldn't be that much different than doing it to yourself. Only at a better angle.

“Which would you prefer?”

“I don't know. Whatever you feel more comfortable doing.”

Pansy’s hands glided down Ginny’s thighs, parting her legs. Just be gentle, like Hermione had said. Take your time. She kissed down her inner thighs, working her way down at a slow, hopefully sensual, pace.

Hermione’s book had detailed the way this was done. If she focused on that she should be fine. Pay attention to what she liked. Ask her what felt good. Pansy could do that.

Chapter Text

She was beautiful. Gorgeous. Magnificent. Breathtaking. She smelled like flowers. Her hair was so soft, and long, and red. It matched the tones of the falling leaves. Her brown eyes felt like a cozy autumn evening drinking hot chocolate and eating pumpkin pie. Pansy didn't even like pumpkin pie, it just felt like Ginny. Ginny. She liked Ginny so much. She-

“Ow!” Pansy jumped back and whacked at Harry, who had just come running at her from behind, nearly knocking her over.

“Sorry, Pansy,” he laughed. Ron was behind him, laughing along.

“What are you two running around for?” Ginny said.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, then fell into another round of giggles. Ginny rolled her eyes at Pansy, her smile fond. Pansy felt that rush. The kind Ginny made her feel, and the other kind that her friends made her feel. It slithered like a snake around her heart, squeezing her. It was painful in a beautiful way. She was so happy they were all alive and together and here at the same time. She hoped it didn't ever end.

“Where’s Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“Ancient runes,” Ron replied. “Which reminds me, I gotta go.”

“Here,” Harry reached into his pocket. “Take this for your trip.”

Whatever he put in Ron’s hand was too small for the girls to see, but the crunch of the wrap told them it was candy. Ron ran off and Harry, noticing the girls’ curious looks, pulled more of the candy out of his pockets. A few pieces fell to the ground.

“Want some?”

Pansy took one, examining it. “What are these?”

“They’re caramels with apple-flavored goop inside them,” Harry said. “Hagrid gave them to me.”

Ginny unwrapped one, popping it into her mouth. “Ugh! It’s impenetrable.”

“It's hard candy,” Pansy said. “That's what old people like because they don't have teeth, only gums, so all they can do is suck on things.”

“I don't think Hagrid’s that old.”

“My mum likes hard candy,” Pansy replied.

“Does she have teeth?”

“Yeah.”

Harry and Ginny replied with two confused stares and the trio burst into laughter.

“My aunt likes hard candy, too,” Harry said as they started through the courtyard toward the castle. “Well, she doesn't like it, she just always has a little fancy bowl of them sitting out.”

“It must be decoration,” Pansy guessed. “My mum does the same thing.”

“Draco likes green apples,” Harry said. “Maybe he'd like these.”

“You know, you didn't have to take so many,” Ginny said.

“I don't want to make Hagrid feel bad.”

“I think he'd be fine if you took two or three.”

“Yeah, I'd feel worse if someone left with half my candy bowl in their pockets,” Pansy said.

Harry shrugged. “Where is Draco anyway?”

Draco, Harry, Pansy, and Ginny all shared a free period and they'd taken to forming a study group. Some days Draco didn't join because he had astronomy, but not today. Harry rummaged through his bag and pulled out his map.

Ginny had seen the map before and so didn't question it. As sneaky as Fred and George were, the concept of secrets wasn't exactly a familiar one in a household of seven children. Pansy, on the other hand, gaped at Harry as the map revealed itself to him.

“What is that?”

“It’s a map,” Harry grinned sheepishly at her.

Pansy peered over the parchment. “What? How? What is this?”

“It’s magic.”

Pansy’s awed expression fell into a sharp glare. “Right, where'd you get it?”

“My uncle. Anyway, Draco’s right here.”

Pansy’s mouth fell open as she followed Harry’s finger pointing out Draco’s exact location. He appeared to be sitting in a tree. Harry and Ginny ran toward him while Pansy stood back, needing another moment to process her shock before chasing after them.

“Draco!” Harry called, looking up into the branches where Draco was perched.

Draco raised his eyebrows, not looking up from his book. “What do you want, Potter?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was reading,” he said dully. He tucked his book into his bag and slid off his perch, carefully lowering himself to the ground. He threw his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

The sound of obnoxious laughter ruined their moment. Draco tried not to let it affect him, reminding himself it was just their ignorance. Harry tried not to let it make him angry. Ginny and Pansy took to trying to scare them away with vicious glares.

“Sod off,” Pansy sneered.

“Don't get your knickers in a twist, Parkinson,” a boy snickered. “We’re only having a laugh.”

The growing group laughed to prove it.

“Well, you're not very funny,” she retorted. “And not very clever.”

Someone came up behind her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. It was Lawrence Lindman, a seventh-year Ravenclaw that Pansy had alchemy with. Ginny stepped forward threateningly, but Lindman didn't notice.

“You could have had this, Draco,” he said, gesturing to Pansy.

“Don’t touch me.” She shoved him off.

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Is your life so dull that you need to entertain yourself with ours? I can't imagine there's much going on in that dimly lit mind of yours.”

Lindman scowled but he couldn't think of a comeback. “Whatever, queer.”

Draco gasped dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest in feigned offense. Harry put his hand on Draco’s lower back, the look on his face pleading to get out of there.

Lindman, having been entertained enough by Draco, put his hand on Pansy’s shoulder. “By the way, if you ever need notes for alchemy I would be down to study.” The way he said study and the smile on his face assured her he didn't actually want to review class notes.

Pansy pushed his hand away. “Like I would ever.”

“What you a dyke, now, too?”

Ginny and Harry both stepped up defensively. Lindman reached for Pansy’s arm again but this time was stopped by Harry sharply slapping his wrist. He shoved Harry, an action that was reciprocated more roughly.

Shove, shove, shove until Harry broke the streak by tackling Lindman to the ground. Draco screamed, Pansy jumped back, and the crowd around them rose with a cacophony of their own screams, gasps, and cheers. The boys rolled around in the wet grass, and Harry landed a punch before Draco, Ginny, and Lindman’s friends were pulling them apart.

Draco and Ginny tugged Harry inside and Pansy flipped off Lindman and the bystanders before following after.

“Merlin, Harry,” Pansy said as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. “What was that?”

“I don't know,” he grunted, rubbing the side of his head. He must have hit the ground harder than he realized during their fight.

“What happened to not letting it get to you?”

“Is it wrong to say he was asking for it?” Ginny said.

“Sure, but Harry didn't need to get whooped like that.”

“I don't know, Harry’s quite the scrapper. You see that punch?”

“Can we forget it?” Harry begged.

“Did you get hurt?” Draco asked, cradling Harry’s head.

“I just want to lay down.”

They went to Harry’s room, cramming themselves into his small bed. He curled up under the covers while they attempted to get some studying done.

“So how long until we admit this isn't fine?” Ginny asked.

“There isn't anything we can do,” Pansy said. “Besides beat people and ignore it there aren't many options.”

“It makes me,” Draco started. He played with a curl at the nape of Harry’s neck. “I just don't…I’m not used to being on the other side of it. I know it probably doesn't mean much,” he softly caressed Harry’s head. “But I'm sorry I ever made you feel like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” Pansy quickly added. “Some people deserve it, but you lot are kind of alright.”

“Yeah,” Draco absently agreed. “It feels horrible. Like I just want to, I don't know.”

“Kill yourself,” Harry supplied.

The others stared in horrified silence.

“Harry,” Ginny started.

Harry groaned. “I don't really want to kill myself. You guys are too serious.”

“Can you blame us?” Pansy said in retort.

Ginny put a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“I don't,” he said. “But sometimes I just don't want to be alive.”

Nobody said anything. There wasn't much they could say to that. Nothing that would be a great comfort.

“I remember when I was little,” Harry said. “I used to wish I was sick or something, that I was actually dying so someone would feel bad for me. I wished whatever I felt inside was as visible as a doctor’s note or a broken bone.”

Harry rolled over, sitting up against his pillows. “I’ve been pointedly reminded my whole life that I wasn't wanted and I thought that maybe if there was ever the fear of actually losing me, it might change something. Course I nearly died plenty of times and no one cared so.”

“I cared,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, I cared, too,” Draco seconded.

Pansy nodded. “Mhm. That’d be pretty lame if you died.”

“That would be pretty lame,” Harry agreed.

Draco cupped Harry’s face, leaning into him with a cheek kiss.

“Sometimes,” Harry said. “Sometimes, when something bad happens, or anything slightly negative, to be honest, it makes me want to cut.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “I know. When anything goes a bit wrong it makes me want to not eat.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. Ginny snuck into the hug, arms enclosing around Harry’s waist. Pansy joined too, laying her head on Harry’s lap.

Harry whined, pressing his palm against his temple. Pansy frowned up at him.

“‘M fine. I’m kind of hungry.”

“Do you want to sneak down to the kitchen?” Draco asked.

He shook his head. “I just want a pop tart. A cherry one.”

He was met with three quizzical looks.

“Guess they don't have those in the wizarding world.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked with intense interest. “What’d you say it was called?”

“A pop tart. It’s a pastry but it kind of tastes like cardboard,” he explained. “And it’s not soft, it’s crunchy and you toast it. It has frosting on it and it’s filled with, er, whatever it is they fill it with. Flavored paste, I guess.”

“That sounds terrible,” Draco said, lips curling into a disgusted frown.

“It’s good, trust me.” Harry laughed, knowing pop-tarts would most likely not impress his friends if they were to taste them.

“Sounds disgusting,” Pansy said, sitting up. “Knowing your taste, it’s awful.”

Harry gasped, feigning offense. “I have exquisite taste.”

“Alright, flavored paste,” she teased, making Harry cackle with laughter. “Anyway, as much as I'd love to hear the origins of toasted cardboard, I’ve got to leave now.”

Ginny frowned, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. Pansy leaned over, hands awkwardly pressed into the bed on either side of Harry’s knees. She took Ginny’s bottom lip in her teeth.

“Excuse me,” Harry loudly interrupted.

Pansy pulled away, giggling as she gathered her things.

“I should actually go, too,” Draco said. He pulled Harry into a proper kiss, which Harry hypocritically enjoyed himself with, pouting when Draco broke it.

Draco shoved his books and things into his bag and darted out of the room after Pansy.

Ginny faced Harry, moving closer so their noses pressed together. “You and me,” she said in a low voice accompanied by an eyebrow raise. “Alone at last.”

“Do you remember,” Harry grinned, and Ginny could tell she wasn't going to like this fun little memory. “When you used to fancy me?”

“Ew! Don't speak of that. I didn't know you even knew about that.”

“Ron told me.”

“Course he did.”

Harry pinched Ginny’s cheek. “I think it’s cute.”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you liked me,” he laughed.

She tried to glare at him but she only ended up falling into laughter herself.

“What’s this?” Harry asked suddenly, taking Ginny’s pearl necklace in his fingers.

“Theo got it for me as a late birthday gift. It’s pretty, yeah?”

“I thought you didn't like jewelry.”

“I don't, really, but it,” she hesitated, a telling smile on her face as she gazed downward. “It reminds me of Pansy.”

“Why?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Whatever,” Harry intoned, nestling back into his pillows next to Ginny. “Can I just stay here forever?”

“For a bit.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you want some help with your work?”

Harry mumbled an affirmative response and Ginny picked up his workbook.

***

Draco hurried down the halls, glancing around nervously. His heart was thumping in his chest. He’d just gotten out of arithmancy class, losing Hermione as she was caught up in conversation with another girl in the class. He glanced behind him as he turned a corner, resulting in him knocking into someone else.

Luckily, it was only Blaise.

“Pardon me,” Draco said, his hand brushing over Blaise’s shoulder as he passed.

Blaise caught his arm, falling into step beside him. “Where are you going?”

“I have something to do,” he said urgently.

“What?”

“None of your business, Zabini.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Seeing Harry, I'm sure.”

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he rushed. He needed to go.

Blaise scoffed. “Ever since you, Pansy, and Theo got partners you never want to hang out. I've been abandoned.”

Draco laid his hands on Blaise’s shoulders. “We’ll hang out later today, alright? But not now.”

“Whatever. What are you doing right now that’s so important?” Blaise prodded.

“I- nothing,” he said, coming off far too affronted for a man who was up to nothing. “Go away.”

“Fine,” Blaise retorted. “Leave me alone. I don't like you anyway.”

Blaise turned on his heel, head held high with the perpetual air of importance Draco had always admired him for. He felt guilty for sending him off like that, but he couldn't talk right now. And he got defensive under pressure.

Draco dashed down the corridor only to be interrupted once again, this time by Neville.

“Hello, Draco,” he greeted pleasantly.

Draco forced a shaky smile and Neville opened the notebook in his hands. It was his herbology notes. He and Draco had been exchanging notes recently, Neville’s talent at the subject greatly appreciated. But not right now. Whatever Neville was kindly letting him know was going entirely over Draco’s head, the only thing he could focus on being the rapid pace of his heart and the disarray growing inside him.

“Thank you, Nev,” he rushed out. His fist clenched at his side.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked, eyes full of that lovely Neville care and sincerity.

“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” he insisted, forcing back tears. Years of practiced ease made sure he succeeded.

Neville put a hand on Draco's arm, still staring at him in that penetrating way. And Draco wanted to give in, wanted to melt into Neville’s touch and tell him he most certainly was not fine. And he almost did. Almost. But his nerves were alight and he didn't want Neville to have to see that.

Instead, he shrugged him off. “I have to go.”

He was glad he couldn't see Neville’s expression as he walked away. No wonder Blaise was so upset with him, he was being an awful friend. He was ignoring everyone, skipping Harry’s Quidditch practices, putting off spending time with his friends. He’d even been skipping class. At least none of his friends had taken any notice of that.

Draco rushed toward the lavatory, swiveling his head around to make sure no one was there before sinking to his knees. Finally, he let the tears spill, chest heaving with deep breaths. The ghost girl that always bothered him when he came in here swooped down from out of nowhere to stare at him.

“Draco,” she crooned. “Crying again? What’d they do this time?”

Draco couldn't answer. He barely registered what she was asking. His fist tightened around the strap of his book bag, trying to focus solely on the leathery material in his hands and not the stinging in his eyes.

Myrtle circled him, saying something else. She wasn't making fun of him, but he couldn't calm down his own erratic breathing enough to actually listen.

“Is it your dad?”

“Stop,” he snarled.

“It’s alright. I don't like my dad either.”

Why was everybody still talking to him? Couldn't they see he wasn't okay? And no one wanted to help, they just wanted him to do something, hear something, be there for them.

Somebody touched Draco’s shoulder and he violently flinched away. He hadn't heard them walk up. It was Ron, holding that map Harry had shown Draco. The one Harry’s godfather and dad had made.

Ron fell to the floor, pulling Draco into him. His hold was tight, his hand cradling Draco’s head against his chest. Listening to the steady rhythm of Ron’s heart worked wonders on his own rabbiting heartbeat. His breathing calmed, Ron’s hand moving up and down his back in a comforting motion.

“You’re alright,” Ron soothed. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. Hi, Draco. What class were you just in?”

His random greeting broke through Draco’s dazed mind, his question bringing something stable to think about.

“Arithmancy,” he said shakily.

“You were just in arithmancy,” Ron said. “You were with Hermione. She wanted to talk to you about something. I came to find you.”

Draco listened to his replay of events, unsure what it was for.

“You’re a bit upset right now, but when you're alright we can go find Hermione. We can take a break if you'd like, take a walk. How about that?”

Draco shook his head.

Ron wasn't bothered by the dismissal. “May I have your arithmancy book?”

Draco, breathing shaky rather than heaving, opened his bag and fished for his book, handing it to Ron. Ron kept a hand firmly planted on Draco’s shoulder. Draco sucked in a deep breath, wiping wetness from his cheeks.

“Deep breaths,” Ron encouraged. “Slowly.”

He breathed with him, his hand moving to Draco’s back to rise and fall with his chest. Draco’s breathing resumed a normal pace. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, cheeks heated with embarrassment. He didn't ever want anyone to see him like this, let alone someone whose opinion he valued.

Ron didn't notice Draco’s shame, his attention was instead caught by a loose paper sticking out of the workbook in his hands. He opened it to straighten it, finding the letter Draco had stuck in there when he was reading it during class. Draco snatched the book away too quickly for Ron to have read any of it, but he didn't miss the signature at the bottom.

Dad. Dad as in Lucius. The letter was from Lucius.

“Is that why you're upset?”

Draco didn't answer, but he didn't need to.

“Draco, mate,” Ron spoke gently. “Whatever he’s saying to you, you don't have to listen. I know you love him but-”

“You don't understand,” Draco bit back.

“I know I don't, but,” he sighed. “Listen, has Harry told you anything about his aunt and uncle?”

Draco didn’t like what Ron was getting at with that subject change. Harry hadn't said anything but Draco had put it together easily enough that he was abused at home.

“My father isn't abusive.”

“There are a lot of ways to be abusive,” Ron said. “Someone who works you into this state over something they said to you can't be any good.”

“It wasn't him.” It was sort of, but not in the way Ron was thinking. It wasn't his dad’s fault. He knew his dad wasn't perfect, but he wasn't abusive. He just showed love in a way that Ron with his happy little family wouldn't understand.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?”

Draco clutched his book to his chest, index finger tapping the spine. “No, thank you.”

“You can,” Ron offered. “Anytime. Whatever it is, I don't want you to have to bear it by yourself.”

“I can take care of myself well enough, Ron.”

Draco didn't need anyone looking out for him. And he didn't want Ron to have to see all those fragmented, dejected parts of him. The Draco Ron was friends with was the only version of himself he ever wanted Ron to see. Even in his vulnerability. He could take being seen as fragile over Ron ever getting a glimpse of the twisted mess, the broken glass, and dirtied hands that he was made up of.

“One of my siblings,” Ron began. “Went through something really awful during their first year here. The summer after was really hard for them, they cried all the time and had nightmares and stuff.”

“I know you're talking about Ginny.”

“What? How?”

“I was literally there.”

“Oh,” Ron chuckled. “Yeah. The point is, though, she started bottling it up, never talking about it because she didn't want to make anyone else upset. I worried about her a lot. I still do. She never talks about anything that’s bothering her, and I'm worried…”

Whatever he was thinking had him visibly distraught. He opened his mouth as if to finish his sentence, but he was choked up by whatever it was that worried him. Draco could make a few guesses.

He was aware Ron was the first to know about Harry’s cutting, but he'd never taken the time to think how much that might have affected him. Draco didn't know until after Harry was trying to stop. Ron had to see it while it was still happening.

And he'd helped Harry stop. He took care of him. Like he’d just taken care of Draco now, using his little anxiety-reducing tricks on him. Draco wondered if Ron ever did that to Hermione when she was getting too worked up.

“Sorry,” Ron apologized. “Sorry, I, uh, I just don't want you to put too much on yourself. It never ends well.”

Draco’s mind flashed to an image he still couldn't seem to shake, even three months later. Harry lying passed out in the bathroom, smears of blood on his shirt and the wood floor. Losing Harry felt unimaginable, but Draco couldn't even begin to comprehend what it would do to Ron.

“Thanks,” Draco said halfheartedly, just to say something.

Ron stood up, yanking Draco up by the hands. “Come on. We’re going to be just fine.”

“You act like a mum.”

Ron laughed. “That’s what Harry always says.”

Draco laughed, too, despite himself. Ron threw his arm around Draco’s shoulders, leading him out of the lavatory.

“Ron,” Draco said, slipping his arm around Ron’s waist.

“Hmm?”

“I don't want you believing I like you or anything, but you should know you are appreciated.”

“Thanks, Draco.” Ron smiled at him, too full of sincerity and vulnerability for Draco’s comfort.

Draco loved Ron but the openness that came with admitting something like that left him feeling exposed and susceptible. He could barely tell Harry how much he loved him. He could say the words, but he couldn't properly express the depths of them.

But oh, how he loved him. Him, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore, Gregory, and Vincent. Daphne and her goofy little sister, Astoria. He loved them all so much. More than he could wrap his own head around. A weirder thought was that they loved him in the same way.

Draco wanted to stay in that love. He wanted to freeze it like a photograph, keeping it like an unchangeable memory. He wanted to live and learn, fight and care, and fall in love with them forever. Was that really too much to ask for?

Ron found Hermione, and she went on about whatever it was she wanted to tell Draco. Draco was only half listening. She'd have to repeat it later, which he knew would annoy her. Right now all he could focus on was the nauseating feeling settling in his belly. That revolting love he felt for his friends and the fear of what it would do to him.

Chapter Text

Harry had never liked Halloween. He’d never been trick or treating, and even if he had been allowed to go he wouldn't want to with Dudley and his obnoxious friends. He’d never dressed up, there'd been no point to. Even after he started attending Hogwarts and the day was filled with candy, feasting, and fun, it still brought up a haunting feeling. And not the fun, spooky kind.

His parents had died on Halloween. His life was uprooted and changed for the worse. Halloween served as a reminder, a solemn time of remembrance and mourning for the life he could have had. The lives his parents didn't get. It didn't exactly feel like a time for celebration.

Draco was very much his opposite. He loved Halloween. He’d never gone trick or treating either, it wasn't a custom fancy, pureblood wizards partook in, but his family always threw a party and he had plenty of sweets and entertainment.

Similarly, the two of them had both been rather lonely children. There were things Draco hadn't done either. Harry’s Halloweens consisted of stealing candy from Dudley and crying himself to sleep beneath the soft lighting of cheap orange string lights that wrapped around the stair rail.

Aunt Petunia always decorated the house with fun decor for Dudley and even as he got older and couldn't care less about it, she hadn't stopped.
Orange lights, pumpkin placemats on a jack-o-lantern tablecloth, hanging bats and skeletons, and pumpkins everywhere. She switched out their usual throw pillows and things with Halloween-themed ones. She didn't act particularly fond of the holiday, but it seemed she liked it a lot. Harry didn't know if she still did all that now.

Harry did like the fake spiders they would get. He liked to leave them around where Dudley would run into them and get frightened. Now that he spent his Halloweens at Hogwarts he couldn't do that. Maybe he could do it to Ron, but knowing Ron, he'd be having nightmares for a week. Ron and Ginny both disliked the tricking side of Halloween, having been victims to Fred and George their whole lives.

Today, Harry still didn't like Halloween any more than he did last year. It had been bothering him all week, with everyone talking about it constantly. It had distracted him all day during his classes and it was distracting him now as he walked through Hogsmeade with his friends.

Hogsmeade looked beautiful in autumn. It was all oranges and reds, leaves scattering the streets, and pumpkins in an array of colors sitting in windows and decorating shops. The bakeries emanated warmth with cinnamon and pumpkin scents, baked breads, cupcakes, and candied apples displayed in the windows.

Mrs. Weasley sent them packages of spicy apple hand pies shaped like pumpkins this morning. She’d made extra for Draco and Pansy, too. Pansy didn't particularly like Halloween, but she loved all the flavors of it. She was most excited about everything she would get to eat at the feast tonight. She was currently snacking on a pumpkin doughnut and a steaming cup of apple cider.

Draco, Ginny, and Neville were drinking apple cider, too, clutching it in their chilly hands. Ron and Blaise were window shopping and making fun of each other for practically everything, the latter an activity the two partook in whenever they were together. Hermione and Theo had wandered into a bookshop together.

Harry was walking beside Luna, who had two small white pumpkins clutched in her hands. She had gifted each of them a hand-painted version of those pumpkins and Harry assumed she was making more. His pumpkin was blue with large lilac stars and stayed on the nightstand beside his bed.

Luna was wearing a green and silver scarf, which Harry could only assume was Theo’s. Especially taking into account the blue that Theo had wrapped around his neck. They were so cute and gross like that. Harry thought it was nice that Luna had someone to be cute and gross with. Luna liked Theo a lot and Theo expressed interest in all the weird stuff Luna talked about. And he seemed to be taking good care of her.

He better be. Luna deserved it. She deserved to have the best of friendships, and hopefully, she was getting that from Theo.

Harry followed his friends around, not caring or paying much attention to what they were actually doing. They roamed through shops, Pansy and Draco bought more things, and they met up with Ron and Blaise.

“Can we get candy?” Ginny said, tugging on Ron’s sleeves.

“Sure.” Ron pushed Ginny away from him. They had both saved some money to buy candy for today.

The group went into the candy shop together. Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Blaise explored the shelves, Luna and Draco went immediately toward the chocolate, and Pansy stayed back with Harry.

“What’s wrong with you?” she questioned.

“Nothing,” he sighed.

“Do you want to leave?”

“I’m fine, Pansy,” he said, more forcefully.

“Do you want candy?”

“Not really. Do you?”

Pansy shook her head. She fiddled with the buttons on her coat, looking listlessly around the shop. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

Some muggleborn students had gotten the idea to throw a Halloween party because the wizard kids had never experienced the wonders of such a thing. Harry had never been to a Halloween party but it didn't sound all that wonderful.

“Maybe,” he said, though they both knew the answer was most likely no. “You?”

She shrugged. “Probably. If everyone else does.”

Harry knew that if he stayed behind Draco, Ron, and Hermione would try to stay behind with him. Hermione would be fine, she probably didn't even want to go either, but he knew the others did.

Were they becoming codependent? They didn't have to do all the same things. Some of them could go to the party while the others stayed in for the night. But what if Harry and Hermione got bored without Ron? Or they missed Ginny. Or they thought of something they wanted to say to Draco but it would have to wait because he wasn't there.

And not being together just felt weird. They spent plenty of time apart but for something like this, it just seemed like an activity that shouldn't split up their group that already had to be split up too often during the weekdays. God, they were codependent, weren't they?

Ginny, Ron, and Blaise came up to Harry and Pansy, each with a bag of candy in hand. Luna and Draco each had small boxes of chocolates and Neville was licking a lollipop, happy as a child.

“Would you like one?” Draco asked, peeling the lid off his box and offering it to Harry.

Harry denied him with a tired wave. What he wanted was to go back to the castle. Draco happily tucked into his chocolates and Harry wished he could share the enjoyment. He was put at some ease seeing that Draco seemed comfortable.

Draco had been on edge lately, for reasons Harry wasn't sure of. He didn't bother him about it because every time he tried to ask him how he was, Draco would close up and cold-shoulder him. Harry tried to give him grace and let him be. He knew Draco didn't always know how to open up. Harry hoped that letting him know he was there if he ever needed to was enough.

Pansy seemed completely normal which gave Harry some comfort. He guessed if something was really wrong with Draco she would be the first to know. If she knew what was bothering him and she wasn't distraught, then maybe it wasn't any cause to worry.

The group headed back outside, the wind biting at their noses as soon as they stepped outside the warmth of indoors. Ron stood tiptoed to peer through the crowd in search of Hermione.

“They’re probably still in the bookshop,” Harry said, knowing what he was looking for.

Ron grabbed Ginny’s hand and dragged her away, the others following after. They pushed through the crowd in the direction of the bookstore, Harry clutching Draco and Pansy’s hands. They’d hardly stepped through the entrance when a burst of gasps and whispers started up. A nearby group of people were staring at Harry, loud whispers of “it’s him.”

Harry wondered when people were going to get over that. Yes, it was him, he’s Harry Potter. He attended Hogwarts and had friends and went to bookstores just like everyone else. It wasn't that interesting.

None of his friends seemed to notice. They never did notice stuff like that, Harry’s issues. Sometimes Harry felt like he was invisible, even to people who cared about him. He was too hard to understand, his problems barely made any sense to him let alone someone else.

And he knew they cared, he knew his friends were worried about him and believed him, but they didn't get it. He didn't blame them, but that didn't make it hurt less. It didn't lessen his wish to be visibly, physically ill like Theo was so that people would take his illness seriously.

“I’m going outside,” Harry muttered angrily, storming out.

He spotted Hermione and Theo close by. Theo had his scarf wrapped high around his neck and he was nipping at a caramel apple. Harry couldn't tell what Hermione was going on about but he imagined she was letting him know how bad caramel was for your teeth. The way Theo’s brows furrowed in both confusion and disinterest, he would say he wasn't far off.

Hermione saw him and tugged Theo forward. “Harry! Harry, where is everyone?”

“Inside.” He nodded toward the shop.

Hermione slipped her hand into Harry’s, squeezing him. “Let’s not split up again. It makes me nervous when we’re not all together.”

Harry gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they walked back inside. He didn't pay much attention to his friends’ chatter, just held onto Hermione’s hand until they went back outside.

“Can we go back?” Harry asked, clutching Hermione’s arm like a child afraid to lose his mum in a crowd.

Hermione looked at him with those big sad eyes of sympathy that he really didn't like. “Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. Yes, of course, we can.”

Harry tried not to appear too visibly uncomfortable by her words. She was trying to help. But sometimes trying to help felt more like pity. Poor Harry, his parents are dead and he doesn't want to party and he doesn't like being famous, boo hoo all he does is cry. It was only in his head he felt that way, but he couldn't help the nagging feeling that they really were tired of pitying poor Harry.

And why wouldn't they? He was a bother, regardless of how much they liked him. He was annoying because no one wanted to deal with someone who was always ruining the fun outings, parties, and general friendly mood.

“Harry wants to leave,” Hermione announced.

More so, Harry wanted to die from embarrassment despite the fact no one looked the least bit bothered by it. Draco slipped his hand into Harry’s free one. On Draco’s other side, Theo hooked their arms, Luna linked to and Neville on her other arm, forming a chain as they headed through the crowd. Behind them, Ron, Ginny, Pansy, and Blaise did the same thing.

By the time they arrived back at the castle their cheeks were cold-bitten and their noses running. The wind swayed their scarves and hair. It was getting cold enough that Harry wouldn't be surprised to see snow on the ground next month. He hoped so. He’d always loved the snow and the grounds looked so beautiful in the wintertime.

Ginny was intercepted by her friends, the three girls bubbling with excitement about something or other. They were bundled up like they'd also just been outside.

Charlotte grabbed Ginny’s arm, giving her a little shake in her excitement. “Ginny, we need your help.”

Ginny laid her hand on top of Charlotte’s. “With what?”

“Our costumes for tonight,” Daisy said.

The group had planned their costumes together, Hermione and Harry doing most of the work to make sure the others got a proper taste of muggle Halloween time, but Ginny and her friends had other ideas.

Many Halloween-y things like vampires, werewolves, witches, and other creepy creatures weren't just figments of a storyteller's imagination. Harry literally knew a werewolf and spent his days around witches. Pansy and Ginny were appalled when they were shown what muggles think witches are. It certainly took a good bit of the spooky fun out of it.

Instead, they'd decided on a better, equally spooky but less offensive alternative. Muggle horror movies. Hermione and Harry chose the characters because the others had no idea who they even were. None of them had ever even seen a horror movie. Or any movie, for that matter.

Harry wasn't a big horror fan himself. It was all so fake, especially compared to the gore he'd seen in real life. He was pretty sure if his life was a movie it would be more disturbing than half the horror flicks they played on tv. Though probably a bit too boring in terms of day-to-day events. He didn't think anyone would want to watch that.

Ginny disappeared with her friends and Luna dragged Neville, Theo, and Blaise with her to help decorate the Ravenclaw common room where they would be having the party later that night. Professor Flitwick was the least likely to deal out a lifetime of detention if their little get-togethers got out of hand.

Harry pulled off his hat, stuffing it in his coat pocket and ruffling his hair. Draco threw his arm over his shoulders, tucking him into his side.

“Are you tired?”

“No,” he muttered, sounding more irritated than he'd meant to. Betrayed by his own rude attitude.

Draco pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m a bit tired,” he cooed in his ear. “I could use a cuddle.”

Harry slipped his arm around Draco’s waist, beneath his coat. Harry nuzzled Draco’s neck, tucking himself into his warmth. Draco giggled, hiding his neck from the touch but keeping Harry close.

“Get a room,” Ron called, laughing.

Pansy was not laughing as she fake gagged.

“We were just leaving anyway,” Draco said, leading Harry away without untucking him from his warm safety.

Despite their vocal disgust, Ron, Pansy, and Hermione followed after them. Personal space wasn't really something that existed in their circle.

Harry and Draco snuggled up in Harry’s bed together while the others sat on the floor beside them, going over their costumes for tonight.

“I’m starting to dislike muggle Halloween,” Hermione said. “I get witches are cute, but hanging them on your door to frighten children isn't very nice. Not to mention the way creatures are depicted in such decorations.”

Besides Harry who was too tired to give his piece on the conversation, no one else knew what she meant. For once, they listened intently to her ramble, no interruptions of “no one cares.”

“Werewolves, goblins, and ghouls and all that, they're always chained up or depicted to be vicious monsters. Werewolves, I’ve especially noticed.”

“They’re not far off,” Ron remarked.

“That’s not fair. Those are stereotypical characterizations. Werewolves are people, Ron.”

“Yeah, they're also werewolves.”

“You’re being very insensitive.” Hermione crossed her arms, huffing through her pout at Ron. “What about Remus?”

“Oh, I can't believe that,” Pansy cut in. “We had a real werewolf for a teacher.”

“Which is perfectly fine,” Hermione said. “Because he was a perfectly lovely human and he shouldn't have had to quit.”

“Yeah,” Ron sullenly agreed. “He was our only good Defense teacher.”

“He quit?” Pansy said.

“Yes, because he was afraid of what people would think. And he was right to be, because people are awful. Do you know how difficult it is for him to find jobs because of prejudice?”

Pansy, much more relaxed in comparison to Hermione’s passionate rage, said, “How do you even know that? Were you and Professor Lupin best friends?”

Hermione nodded, no further explanation given. Pansy gave Ron a confused look and he gave another affirmative nod in return. Harry giggled, and Draco, who had been told all about Remus by Harry, followed his laughter.

“What?”

“We should get our costumes ready,” Hermione said, hopping up and ignoring Pansy’s confusion.

Ron followed her up, throwing his arms around her neck.

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, Draco’s head falling into his lap. Brushing a hand through his hair, he asked, “Do you think anything haunted will happen tonight?”

“Haunted?” Pansy said, mocking. “What, like ghosts?”

“Ghosts were a lot scarier before they were roaming the halls of school.”

“Sometimes ghosts are still scary,” Hermione said. “If you don't know them.”

“One time, Dudley and I saw a ghost back home.”

Draco turned his head up to look at him. “Who?”

“My cousin. It was really scary, but it’s less scary now knowing ghosts are real. Though,” he said thoughtfully, more to himself than the others. “That does mean what we saw was real.”

“What did you see?” Ron asked, curiosity and fear mingling on his face, very unusual for someone who saw ghosts nearly every day.

“We were watching the telly in the middle of the night, we used to do that on weekends,” he added. “And we were alone, my aunt and uncle asleep. All of a sudden,” he paused for dramatic effect. “We heard a noise.”

Ron clutched Hermione’s arm and Draco sat up to properly hide himself in Harry’s arms.

“We go over to the back window that looked out onto the porch, and we had this old rickety chair.”

They huddled onto Harry’s bed, fidgeting with anticipation.

“Sitting in the chair, we saw a man.”

Draco jumped in Harry’s arms and Ron whimpered in fear.

“He looked dead at us,” Harry said coolly. “It wasn't anyone we’d ever seen in the neighborhood before, and I wandered the neighborhood a lot as a kid.”

“Ew, what happened?” Pansy prodded.

“We ran upstairs and hid in our rooms,” Harry said like that was the only sensible reaction.

“Wait, so was it a ghost?” Draco asked.

“Dudley woke Uncle Vernon and made him check, but there was no one there so we always thought…” Harry has always believed it was a ghost, but now he wasn't quite sure. “Wait, you don't think?”

“There was an actual man sitting outside your house in the middle of the night,” Hermione finished for him. “Quite possibly.”

The group erupted into screams. Real people were far scarier than ghostly disturbances.

“Harry, what the hell?” Hermione screeched. “That was not a fun story.”

“I never said it was going to be fun.”

“Haunting for sure,” Ron said, quivering.

“That’s going to bother me for the rest of the night,” Pansy said, sliding off the bed. “Draco, come downstairs with me. I can't walk alone through the halls ever again.”

“You’re a wizard, Pansy. I don't think some random man popping out of the walls is going to do much to you.”

“Except give me a heart attack,” she said, taking his arm.

Draco and Pansy disappeared together, and Hermione excused herself to get her costume ready for tonight. Harry supposed he should do the same.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“Like, seven.”

Harry groaned tiredly, burying his face in his pillow.

Ron rubbed circles over his back. “Do you want me to help zip you into your leather bodysuit?”

Muffled by his pillow, Harry laughed. “Sure.”

***

The Ravenclaw common room was decorated with every spooky thing one could think of. Bats hung off the high ceiling, spiderwebs coated the long windows and bookshelves, crimson blood spills mixed with the deep midnight of the room, and bones were strewn across the starry carpet.

Several jack-o-lanterns, carved and glowing, were set up around the room. When the partygoers entered they were greeted with a gleaming pumpkin welcoming sign spelling out Happy Halloween.

Harry spotted Ginny talking to Luna. She was dressed as an angel, her friends creating a group of angels and devils. He wasn't sure what Luna was supposed to be, but it looked like a fairy only without the wings. Her dress was made up of flower petals, ruffles, and hanging pieces that looked like she'd picked them out of the forest herself. A crown of flowers rested on her head.

Ron and Hermione were dressed as Ghostface and Sidney from Scream. Hermione had picked it out because she wanted to match. Harry had suggested something matching, too, but Draco hadn't wanted to be the blonde girl from Edward Scissorhands.

Harry had thought being Edward Scissorhands would be really cool. Instead, it was clunky boots, an outfit made up of too many out-of-place buckles, and the dull scissor-like contraptions stuck on his hands that made it impossible to do anything. He ended up taking them off within the first five minutes of arriving.

Draco’s costume was Harry’s personal favorite. After a lot of convincing and a coin toss that didn't end in his favor, Draco dressed up as Frankenhooker. Fishnets and everything. Harry just about died laughing every time he looked at him. He couldn't hold a conversation without being distracted by his long purple wig, or pointed bralette, or the purely white makeup they'd painted his face with.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Draco said to him.

Truthfully, he was happy to see Harry so full of merriment, even if at his expense. And he didn't entirely mind the costume. He felt pretty cute, despite the obnoxious state of the attire. He could do without the wig, though.

Harry continued on in a fit of laughter. “It’s too good.”

In her chunky boots, Pansy came clunking over to them. What was it with these boots?

“Don’t drink this,” she said, handing Draco a cup. “It’s awful.”

Draco sniffed it and took a cautious sip. “It tastes…buttery. Feels buttery,” he corrected.

“Buttery?” Harry stole the cup from him, swishing it gently.

“It tastes like rusty butter.”

Harry sipped it. “Ugh! Who made this? Why is it so warm?”

“Has no one ever heard of ice?” Pansy tapped her wand, producing ice cubes bobbing in Harry’s drink.

Harry frowned down into the cup and discarded it on the nearest table. Worst punch he’d ever had.

Pansy wove her way through the crowd to find Ginny, searching for a shock of red hair beneath a halo. She hadn't spoken to her since she got here.

“Ginny!” she called out when she saw her. She wrapped her arm around her shoulders, stealing her from the crowd she was in.

Ginny turned around to face Pansy properly. If her mouth fell agape at the sight of her girlfriend, who could really blame her? Pansy was dressed as Nancy Downs, from some movie Hermione had said the name of but Ginny couldn't remember now. Her lips were deep maroon, her eyeliner smudged, and her hair messy. The beaded choker, long necklaces, and leather jacket looked better on her than they needed to.

“You look- I like your costume,” Ginny stammered.

Pansy laughed, not taking notice of Ginny’s flustered state. “Thanks. I thought I looked a bit funny.”

“Yeah, no, you look great.”

Pansy’s eyes, flickering with cheeky interest, made their way up and down Ginny’s body. “I like your costume, too.”

Ginny promptly turned her head, her face flushing as bright as her hair. Pansy took one of Ginny’s lace-gloved hands.

“This party is kind of boring,” she said. “And I don't want to be trapped in another game of spin the bottle.”

“Let’s go find the candy table.”

Liking this idea, Pansy and Ginny set off in the direction of the candy bowls. On their way, Pansy stepped in something that made her jump back, her scream filling the room. Ginny, seeing what it was, doubled over cackling at Pansy’s fright.

It was fake blood.

“What’s the purpose of this?” Pansy grumbled. “It just makes a mess anyway.”

“Ron keeps jumping at every fake spider he sees.”

“Why does it look so realistic?” Pansy observed. “Ew! It’s on my trousers!”

The whole thing was a humorous event to Ginny until she felt something splash against her arm.

“Who did that?” She whipped her head around to find many laughing faces but none of guilt. Her white dress was now splattered with dripping red.

“Not very funny now, is it?”

Ginny huffed and she would have protested, but Pansy’s maroon smirk was so enticing it made her forget all about it. It looked perfect against her fair skin. And her hair looked too good all messy like that.

Without thinking, Ginny grabbed Pansy’s face and brought her into a kiss. Pansy jumped back just as there was an eruption of cheers. Someone shouted something about it being “hot” but Ginny was too preoccupied to yell at them. She was focused on the look of terror on Pansy’s face.

“I’m sorry, Pansy, I didn't mean to,” she hastily apologized. But it didn't matter. It was already done.

“It’s fine,” Pansy rushed out, pushing through the crowd and darting out the door.

Ginny let her go, guessing her presence wouldn't provide much comfort in the moment. She slumped through the party, ignoring every whistle and remark, crude or favorable. She passed Theo lying on the sofa, seemingly asleep. How could he sleep through all this?

Ginny pressed her hand to his forehead the way you would to someone who was ill. He didn't feel ill. Ginny started as someone behind her spoke.

“He’s not dead.”

It was Draco.

“How is he sleeping through this?”

Draco shrugged. “He’s weird.”

Blaise approached them, a green-faced Goyle dragged along with him. “Draco,” he whined. “Greg threw up in the candy bowl.”

“What? Ew, I don't care.”

“Do something with him.” Blaise shoved his friend toward Draco.

Ginny didn't wait around to be involved in that situation. She spotted Ron, Luna, and Hermione dancing in a circle together like little kids, their heads thrown back in laughter. Felicity and Charlotte were clearing the cupcake platter and Daisy was examining the Ravenclaw boys.

Ginny was happy her friends were enjoying themselves, but she wasn't planning to stick around and watch. She'd make up some excuse, her head hurt, or she threw up in a candy bowl. She muttered something to Charlotte, who was barely paying attention, and bolted for the door. While sneaking out, she ran into Harry already outside.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Where are you going?” she echoed.

“You know I don't really like parties,” he said. “Why are you bloody?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” she mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “Goodnight, I guess.”

He'd barely finished the sentence before Ginny was running off. Was that weird? Probably, but Harry could check on her later. He knew it was best to give Ginny space when she was upset.

He didn't think much about it until he found Pansy curled up in a corridor sobbing, her dark makeup smudged and running down her cheeks. He dropped to the floor beside her.

“What happened? Did you and Ginny fight?”

Pansy didn't answer, just shoved her face into his chest. Harry slumped against the wall, arms wrapped around Pansy.

“So much for that party,” Harry said, hoping to somewhat lighten the mood. “We lasted, what, twenty minutes?”

He managed to get a watery laugh from her. From the only pocket in his skin-tight bottoms, he pulled out a bag of gummy brains. He ripped it open, emptying them into his hand.

“They’re texturized.” He offered the candy to Pansy.

Pansy sniffled, wiping her nose on her coat sleeve. “Ew,” she laughed, picking out a brain.

Harry rubbed her shoulder, letting her lean on him physically and emotionally, though neither of them spoke a word about it.

Chapter Text

Two weeks.

That's how long it had been since Draco told Harry he didn't want to play Quidditch anymore. And how long it had been since Draco started avoiding him. Harry suspected he was also lying about his whereabouts. Every now and then, Harry would check the map. Okay, he would obsessively check the map, but was it so wrong to want to know what your increasingly suspicious boyfriend was up to?

Ron kept telling him he was being weird, but was he? If anyone was being weird it was Draco. The weirdest thing of all, something Ron and Hermione refused to hear Harry out on, was that sometimes Draco would disappear from the map entirely. That couldn't be normal.

And why didn't he want Harry to know? Harry hadn't actually asked him, but he planned to do just that. If he wanted Draco to trust him he would have to give that in return. Stalking and accusing weren't exactly actions to inspire mutual trust.

Harry pulled out the Marauders map to see where Draco was right now. He was talking to Snape. Gross. Harry would have to wait. Obsessively, he kept his eyes glued to the parchment.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, tone full of accusation.

“Nothing.” Harry folded the map closed. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you spying on Draco again?” He sounded exasperated, like this was all Harry ever did and he was sick of it. “You have a problem, mate.”

“Do not,” he argued, taking another peek at the map.

“Yesterday you considered skipping practice to stalk him.”

“I am not stalking him. I'm checking on him.” Or both. But wanting to know your boyfriend was okay while also questioning if he was doing something he probably shouldn't be and hiding it from you was valid.

Skipping Quidditch practice because your sole purpose in life had become finding out what he was up to might be a bit of a problem. But Harry hadn't actually done it, only thought about it. Ron was being overdramatic.

Rather, Ron wasn't being dramatic enough. Draco was hiding things from Harry, even lying to his face saying he was somewhere else when Harry could see where he'd been. That was worth worrying about.

“Why are you so worried about it?” Ron asked.

“Because,” Harry said defensively. “I happen to care about Draco. Now, if you'll excuse me.”

“Stalker,” Ron called as Harry darted out of their room.

Harry caught Draco in the corridor. He didn't miss the way Draco pretended not to notice him, trying to make his escape before Harry caught up to him.

“Hey, Draco.” Harry linked their arms, scuffing Draco to his side. “The first Quidditch match is this weekend. Slytherin against Gryffindor. Will you be rooting for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Draco said, having no trouble falling into their playful roles. “I will be cheering on the better team.”

“Yeah, that's what I said.”

Draco’s face fell, his smile, fake as it probably was, disappearing. “Actually, I won't be there.”

Harry tried to contain his surprise. He needed to approach this subtly. “Oh? Why not?”

“My father wants me to pay him a visit.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good, I think.”

Harry couldn't read Draco’s smooth, casual tone of voice. It didn't seem like he was lying, but how did Harry know Draco wasn't just a really good liar? It seemed like the kind of skill he'd want to master. Slytherins probably practiced deceit as a hobby.

“That’s alright, then.”

Draco nodded curtly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you're rooting for me in spirit.”

That cracked a smile out of him. Harry kissed his cheek. After his visit with Lucius, he could ask him what it was about and see if that got him anywhere.

“Are you free right now?” Harry asked.

An uneasy look ghosted over Draco’s face, but he fixed Harry with another put-on smile. “Yes, I am.”

Harry was sure Draco was only saying that because he had him and he couldn't run away to do whatever weird stuff he did all day. All the better, Harry could see if Draco would try to escape. Not without raising suspicion, he wouldn't.

They went back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry’s hand on Draco’s arm like a handcuff. Because despite what he told Ron, he was being a bit extreme about the situation.

Draco didn't say much, giving only short responses to everything Harry said. When the reached the common room, he joined Hermione and Ron on the floor and stayed quiet.

“You’re so weird,” Ron said to Harry upon seeing them.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked Hermione.

Hermione looked up from the book she was rapidly scrawling notes into. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, her eyes sported bags large enough to carry all her books, and her shoes had been traded out for fuzzy socks.

“Don’t mind her,” Ron said. “She’s gone mad.”

“I've not gone mad,” she huffed. “I’m actually studying. And what are you doing, Ronald?”

“Protecting my peace of mind. Besides,” he picked up a piece of paper off the floor. “I have a doctor’s note.”

Hermione snatched the paper, tucking it into one of her books. “You’re an idiot.”

“Clinically.”

“Is that your test?” Harry asked. “Can I see it?”

“What test?” Draco questioned.

“Ron’s dyslexic,” Harry replied, earning himself a glare from Ron. “Sorry, was I not supposed to tell him?”

“Technically, we don't know yet,” Hermione said. “This was only your first test.”

“What does that mean?” Draco asked.

“Usually, to diagnose dyslexia you complete a series of different tests.”

“No, what's that word you're saying? Dyslexia?” Draco repeated the word carefully. “What is that?”

“It’s a learning disorder that causes difficulty reading,” she explained. “You have trouble identifying speech sounds and how they relate to letters and words.”

“That makes sense.” Draco wasn't entirely sure what all that meant, but it explained Ron’s difficulty with reading. He wondered if there was anything like that to explain why Harry had such trouble focusing on school.

“You said it’s a learning disorder,” Draco pointed out. “Are there other learning disorders?”

“Yes, there are lots of things that count as a learning disorder. Some people have trouble reading, others with writing, processing, attention, etc. It’s becoming more and more paid attention to.”

“That’s good,” Draco said absently. His mind drifted to his friends’ performances in school, how Daphne found it difficult to organize her ideas, or the way Greg had to read a single sentence over and over before understanding it. Were those things because of learning disorders?

Ron rubbed Hermione’s head. “Enough lectures from you.”

“You’re right. I need to focus.” She bent her head down and returned to studying.

“I’m getting you a cup of tea.”

Hermione hummed a thanks and Ron chuckled. He went to fetch something from the boys’ dorms before heading out of the common room.

Draco slipped off his robe, still dressed in his school uniform even though classes ended two hours ago. He emptied out the contents of his pockets. Picking up one of his chocolates, he felt that it had melted.

“Why do you have chocolate in your pockets?” Harry said, swiping a hand through the pile on the floor. It was a stash entirely made up of chocolates.

“Those are my snacks.”

Harry felt one squish in his fingers. “They're all melty.”

“That always happens,” Draco frowned.

“Have you talked to Pansy lately?” Hermione asked, changing the subject from Draco’s pocket chocolates. “About what happened on Halloween?”

“Not really,” Draco guiltily replied. He wasn't even sure what exactly had happened. All of a sudden everyone seemed to be aware of Pansy and Ginny’s relationship and fixated on the fact that Ginny was a girl kisser. It brought great amusement to many of their male schoolmates.

“Ginny’s been upset about it all week. Could you ask Pansy to talk to her?”

“Maybe we should give her space,” Harry said. “She’ll talk about it when she’s ready.”

“Yeah,” Hermione murmured half-heartedly.

Draco kept his own doubtful thoughts about that. He knew Pansy would avoid this like a deadly disease, but Ginny wouldn't. She pushed Pansy in all the right ways, bringing out a courage that was alive albeit deeply buried. Draco was sure Ginny could handle this without their interference.

The conversation didn't find many happier turns after that. They sat in silence with Hermione’s pencil scratches and the unwrapping of chocolate being all they had to fill it. It was a glaringly obvious difference from just two months earlier when they couldn't shut up around each other long enough to even get any studying done.

Draco wished he could travel back in time and relive their summer forever. Even though it was difficult, and everything was awful, and there were moments he would rather never relive, it was easier than things were now. At least they talked and had lunch together every day, and they weren't lying or fighting or constantly having their lives ruined.

Draco felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to Harry, thinking must have been too lost in thought.

“What?” Harry asked.

Draco’s forehead creased in confusion. Had Harry not just been touching him? He felt it again, this time while he was looking straight at Harry.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry noted Draco’s bewilderment.

Draco, settling down when it seemed it was over, jumped when he heard someone say his name. Not just anyone, Ron who wasn't even present. Hermione and Harry laughed, not at all startled.

“Are you messing with me?” he demanded.

Ron, as if materializing from thin air, appeared before him, making Draco jump back again. Sliding off his body was a silky cloak.

“You have an invisibility cloak?”

“Keep your voice down,” Ron said, handing over Hermione’s mug of tea.

“You’ve just taken it off in front of everyone.”

“No one around here really notices anything.”

As he said, no one seemed to. Not an eye was cast in their direction as the other Gryffindor were going through homework or gossip of their own.

“Why is there chocolate on the floor?” Ron asked, snatching one up.

“It’s Draco’s pocket stash,” Hermione replied.

Ron’s disgust as he opened it sent her into a fit of giggles. A contagious one, because Harry and Ron started laughing too. Draco joined, not because he thought anything was particularly funny but because their laughter brought about his own.

“Pardon me,” Draco said through his laughter. “Is anyone going to explain the invisibility cloak?”

“Right,” Harry said. “So, it was our first year.”

***

Ginny tore off her Quidditch gear, dropping it unceremoniously onto the ground. She hurled her shoes at the changing room bench. She'd cost them the game because she'd been distracted. Distracted by Pansy. Her absence, rather. She hadn't shown up to the match.

Ginny was trying not to be angry with her, it was a complicated situation, but this week has been a nightmare, and Pansy sticking with through it would have been a great help. But she wasn't here because she was more concerned with what other people had to say about her.

Ginny stomped out of the changing room, running into Ron who must have been waiting for her.

“Am I in the wrong?” Ginny asked him harshly. “Am I the one being selfish here?”

“No, but you're the one being crazy.” He planted two firm hands on her shoulders. “Have you tried asking Pansy how she feels right now?”

“Well, no, but she’s been avoiding me.”

“Then go get her,” Ron said, the “duh” remaining unsaid but Ginny could still hear it. “If she’s done with you then she needs to say it to your face.”

“You’re right,” Ginny nodded, a new sense of determination filling her. “Yeah, I’ll go find her.”

“Wait, I’ll help you. I’ll get the map.”

Tracking Pansy down to ambush her with a forced conversation wasn't the most considerate of their schemes, but it was one of those you do what you've got to situations. This was very important and, seeing as Ginny was being avoided, there was no other way.

Ginny found Pansy sitting in the courtyard, shivering as the cold breezed past her. She wasn't wearing a coat, only a red sweater that Ginny immediately recognized as her own. She shed her own coat and slipped it over Pansy’s shoulders, earning herself a look of surprise from red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Ginny hurried to apologize. “What happened, it was an accident, I swear. I would never do that on purpose.”

“I know, Ginny.”

“You do? Then why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

Pansy shook her head, keeping her eyes strictly away from Ginny’s face. “I think we should break up.”

“What?” Ginny exclaimed. “Because of this? Everyone already knows, it’s not like it would change anything.”

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut. “They’ll stop talking about it.”

Hardly. People would be reminded any time they saw the two girls together.

“Are we going to stop being friends, too?” It was a sarcastic question, one asked out of irritation, but the shrug Pansy gave in return said it was a possible option.

“Pansy.” Ginny cupped her face, compelling her to look at her.

Pansy shoved Ginny’s hand away.

Ginny laughed, short and biting. “Alright, fine.”

If that’s how Pansy wanted to be, Ginny would let her. She stormed off, abandoning Pansy in her cold misery. If she wanted to be in lonely, miserable denial for the rest of her life then that was her choice. Ginny didn't have forever to wait around for her.

And one day, when they were forty, Pansy would realize the life she made was not the one wanted. And she would reach out to Ginny, the only real thing she’d ever known, but by then Ginny would be long gone.

But Ginny didn't want that. She didn't want Pansy to be miserable or doomed to a fabricated, unsatisfactory life. She wanted her to be happy. As she ran away from her now ex-girlfriend she hoped that one day, in the future, Pansy did reach out to tell her she’d married a lovely woman and finally accepted the love and life she truly wanted. That was what Ginny wanted for her.

When she reached her common room, she had significantly less fight in her than when she'd been talking to Pansy. She found Ron waiting for the news.

“How’d it go?” he asked, hopping up from his chair.

Ginny didn't say anything, the trembling of her lip and the tears that pooled in her eyes answer enough. Ron took her into his arms, letting her cry on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding her tight against him. “‘M sorry, Gin.”

***

“Where’s Pansy?” Luna asked, falling into step beside Ginny and Hermione on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

“With her Slytherin friends,” Hermione jumped to reply.

That was a perfectly good answer for Luna. It didn't, however, deter her from asking further bothersome questions. “Is something wrong, Ginny?”

“I, uh, have my period,” Ginny said. It wasn't the reason for her moodiness, but it wasn't a lie either.

“Oh, I’m sorry, me too.”

“I’ve mine too,” Hermione said. “I didn't even want to attend the game, I can't imagine playing.”

Ginny shrugged. It wasn't nearly the worst of her pain. When they reached the pitch, Theo and Draco were waiting near the Gryffindor stands. Theo caught Luna in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

“Hi, Luny. Are you sitting with the girls?”

Luna nodded, her half-smile directed toward Hermione and Ginny.

“Where’s Harry?” Draco asked.

“Why?” Ginny smirked. “Waiting to give him a good luck kiss?”

“Yes, actually,” he shot back, smirk rivaling hers.

“Guess you're stuck with me.” Ginny touched a finger to her cheek.

Taking the offer, Draco pressed a sloppy kiss to Ginny’s face. She pushed him off, laughing.

“If those are your kissing skills he must be hiding from you.” Ginny wiped her sleeve over her cheek. “Actually, I am going to go check on him.”

Harry hadn't been in the best mood when she saw him earlier. Though, he never really was. Ginny took off at a jog toward the changing rooms. Harry seemed fine, in the middle of dressing himself. The only other person in the room was Ron, tugging on his shoes. He was wearing his new, long-sleeved compression top and looked very content. Harry looked relatively okay.

Seeing as there was no problem, Ginny said, “Hurry up, guys.”

Harry pulled on his gloves, buckling the strap. “We're coming. It’s been five seconds.”

He replaced his glasses with his Quidditch goggles, slinging them around his head and adjusting them on his face. Truthfully, he had gotten a bit distracted. First by goofing around with Ron, which they silently agreed Ginny didn't need to know.

But he was also worrying about Draco. He and Draco’s conversations since he got back had been scarce and it was dulling Harry’s Quidditch enthusiasm. He wasn't feeling overly enthusiastic, but he hoped that would change once he was out there.

It usually did. Harry rarely felt overly enthusiastic about anything, even Quidditch. When he was out on the field, it came to him in a rush. During their last game, Draco’s absence had dampened that. The only reason Harry hadn't been chewed out by each of his teammates for botching the game was because he was the captain, but he could tell they all had words for him.

Harry ruffled his curls, pushing back the hair hanging on his forehead. He wished his hair wasn't so thick. Or curly. Or messy. He wouldn't mind having Draco’s smooth, straight strands. Draco loved Harry’s curls, but for all Harry cared Draco could have them to himself.

“Here,” Ginny said, noticing his struggle. She reached into her bag and pulled out something small enough that he couldn't see it in her hand. She tucked two hairpins into his hair, pinning the curls off his forehead.

“Thanks.”

Ginny was much better at pumping up the team than Harry was. Even if he was excited, he wasn't as good at showing it off the way she was. She had the team shouting and cheering as if they'd already scored before the game had even begun.

Harry stepped out onto the pitch, the ground still damp and muddy from this morning’s rain. He hoped it didn't rain during the match, though he had a feeling it would. He did enjoy the way it smelled, breathing in the damp, earthy scent of a rainy day.

He scanned the Gryffindor stands to find where Hermione was sitting, cheering them on. Beside her were Hagrid, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna in her lion hat. He caught Hermione’s eye and waved to her. He couldn't hear it from where he stood, but Dean put two fingers in his mouth to whistle at him.

Similarly, Ginny’s eyes wandered over the Slytherin stands, scanning the front where she Pansy would always be during practice. There she was, wearing Ginny’s coat and flushing profusely when she met her stare but for a very different reason than Ginny would have wanted. Ginny was set on not letting that get to her this time.

Beside Pansy, huddled with their Slytherin mates, Harry locked eyes with Draco. He was wearing Harry’s jacket, the red and gold one that said Gryffindor on the back. He was rooting for him.

Draco sent him a playful glare and mouthed something that Harry assumed was, “Scared?”

Harry grinned despite himself. That was the Draco he'd been missing. They weren't even facing off against each other, but even their nonsensical banter was better than the cold shoulders and tension.

“You wish,” he mouthed back.

During the match, just as Harry had predicted, it started raining again. It made it all that harder to see anything, much less find the snitch. His uniform was soaked through, hanging heavy and cold on his body. When he once again had the snitch in his eyeline, he heard his teammates shouts.

They were yelling his name, maybe, the wind made it hard to hear. Rain whipped against his face, clouding his goggles. The rush of adrenaline coursing through him made him more determined. Zipping past the stands, wind rushing past his ears and the chilly air biting at his cheeks, he chased the golden blur flitting around the pitch.

The pelting rain made it harder to see, but Harry had the snitch in his sightline. Nearly slipping off his broom, he swooped low to the ground to grab it. Lunging forward, he did topple over but as he tumbled into the wet grass his hand closed around the little ball.

While cheers erupted around him, Harry lay back in the grass, fist around the snitch. Ron was the first to get to him, slipping as he ran over and sliding on his knees through the mud. He yanked Harry up into a hug, rubbing a hand over his wet head. The others weren't far behind, tugging him to his feet.

Hermione and Luna ran out onto the pitch, joining the team’s group hug. Harry was freed from the middle of the pile only to be thrown into Draco’s arms.

Pansy came down, too, running through the downpour across the muddy pitch. Her hair was soaked and sticking to her face, her makeup smudged around her eyes. She came to a slippery stop in front of Ginny, taking her face in both hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. The tears streaming down her face mingled with the raindrops on her cheeks. “I love you, Ginny.”

Ginny wasn't sure what to say, her own tears mixing with the sky’s. “I love you, too,” she managed.

And then Pansy’s lips were on hers, kissing her in front of everyone. Ginny grabbed her waist, tugging her closer. The cheers from the crowd were almost as loud as they were for Harry. Or maybe that was just Ginny’s imagination, but it felt like the cheering was for them.

“What was that?” Ginny breathed when they pulled apart.

“I told you,” Pansy said, breathless and pink-cheeked. “I love you.”

Ginny hugged her, melting into the embrace and never wanting to let go. They could talk it out later, apologize, yell, cry, it didn't matter. Not now. Now, all that mattered was that she had her.

“Couldn’t even go two weeks away from me,” Ginny teased.

“Let’s go inside,” Hermione yelled over the noise. “I’m freezing.”

Ginny didn't want to let go of Pansy, but she kissed her goodbye and hurried as fast as she could to get changed. She shivered as she undressed, slipping into a fresh, warm jumper. She tied her damp hair into a braid, stuffed her wet clothes into her bag, and headed out of the changing rooms.

Gryffindor held a party that night, celebrating their win. As happy as she was, Ginny wasn't up for a party tonight. She, Hermione, Pansy, and the boys nestled together in the boys’ room, blanket fort built and party snacks they'd snuck away supplied in plenty.