Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Inqusitorial!Draco, part 3 or The Incident in the Prefect's Bathroom
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Summary: I have no funny summary for this one. This is a story in which Mori makes up ridiculous plant names, wishes this were a smutty story about Snape instead of Harry, and Harry and Draco get weirded out because they might possibly be beginning to like one another.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. The companies that make a lot of money off of them own them, obviously.
Author's notes: It took me bloody well long enough. Still takes place during OotP, and you should probably read the other two parts before this.
Feedback: I am a junkie, feed my addiction. I especially like constructive criticism. If you can find something wrong with one of my stories, tell me so I can fix it. Just let me know anything you think.
E-mail: moriavis@hotmail.com


~*~

Harry grinned into his pumpkin juice and ducked his head as he caught a glimpse of The Quibbler from the corner of his eye; it vanished quickly as Umbridge glowered darkly from her place at the staff table. Hermione fought down a beaming smile, leaning closer to Harry and Ron. “Oh, isn’t it fantastic?” she asked happily, her eyes gleaming in triumph. “Absolutely everyone’s read the article—it’s so much more than I hoped for!”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron snorted. “You probably expected this from the beginning.” He paused in consideration. “Although, it’s better than some ideas you’ve had.”

Hermione’s flush of pleasure faded as a frown twisted her mouth. “Now what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

Harry hid another grin as Hermione and Ron began to bicker, curiously comforted by the irritated sniping. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand and closing his eyes, feeling truly pleased with himself for the first time in several months. He had exposed Voldemort, named Death Eaters, stuck a thorn deep into Umbridge’s side, and Cho had forgiven him. Things couldn’t get much better.

The sound of his friends’ bickering silenced abruptly, and after a few moments Harry opened his eyes, wondering if they’d come to some sort of compromise so soon. The first thing he noticed was the pale, slightly pinched look on Hermione’s face. He acknowledged the long shadow cast over him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Napping, are we Potter?”

Harry cringed at the silky tone and sat straight, face carefully blank as he looked up to find Professor Snape. “No.”

Snape’s lip curled derisively. “I see. After all, I’d hate to think the sleep you acquire in potions would be… inadequate.”

Harry’s shoulders stiffened and he shot a glare at Snape over his glasses. “I don’t sleep in Potions, either,” he almost snarled. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Harry held that gaze, adding a flat ‘sir’ to the end of his statement.

“Indeed.” Now Snape’s eyes were nearly glowing with malice. “One would not be able to tell with your performance in the course.” Harry opened his mouth to retort, and Snape made a dismissive gesture, short and sharp. “Regardless,” Snape drawled, “I have a request for you.” He brandished a piece of paper from a hidden pocket in his robes and gave it to Harry. Harry scanned it quickly, discovering that it was a list of herbs. “The last herb identification exam that you took,” Snape said delicately, “Proved… unsatisfactory.” Harry flushed as Hermione shot him a pitying glance, and Snape smirked. “Do remember to be prompt.”

As Snape turned away, Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “No worries, mate. I’ll help you.”

Harry almost groaned aloud as Professor Snape whirled back to them and pinned Ron with a malicious look. “Judging by your prowess on the Quidditch field, Mr. Weasley,” Snape hissed sleekly, “I daresay your time could be put to better use.” Snape turned away with a triumphant smirk on his face as Ron’s ears burned red.

“Sorry, Harry,” Ron muttered. Harry sighed and pushed away the remains of his meal. His appetite, much like his good mood, had vanished.

*

Harry fell against the wall of the greenhouse, gasping for breath as he wiped the sweat trickling down his cheek with the edge of his sleeve. He winced as a thorn scratched his temple and pried the offending thing out of his sleeve as he glared at the Flemish Arachnea in front of him, which was just now pulling in its vines and settling down to rest after he blundered into its vicinity to snatch a root.

Professor Severus Snape, Harry decided, was one of the most sadistic people on the face of the planet, third after Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy.

Harry thrust the thorn-studded root into his bag of herbs and wrestled his wand out of his pocket to scratch a line through the last item of his list. He was just beginning to wonder if he had the strength to push away from the wall and head to the dungeons when the door to the greenhouse swung open, and Draco Malfoy strode inside.

Harry groaned inwardly as Draco’s eyes darted quickly over the length of the greenhouse and settled with flinty certainty on him. He pushed away from the wall, hefting the sack of herbs in one hand. “Malfoy, I really don’t have the time to deal with—” The breath whooshed out of him as Draco shoved him back against the wall. Harry dropped his bag in surprise—after all, Draco had never been one to initiate violence. “Malfoy, what are you…” Draco swung at him wildly, and only Harry’s Quidditch-honed reflexes allowed him to block most of the force with a raised arm. “SHOVE OFF, MALFOY!” Harry bellowed, jumping forward as he swung a fist. He noted with no small satisfaction that he had better aim than Draco as he buried his fist in the other boy’s stomach. Draco sank to his knees, gasping for breath as Harry rubbed his sore knuckles. “What is wrong with you?” Harry demanded, and paused for breath before adding, “Besides the usual?”

Draco raised furious eyes to Harry, color burning high in his cheeks. “That article,” he gasped, angry tears making his eyes shine in the dim light pouring through the windows, “is a lie.”

Harry blinked, and hung his head in sheer disbelief. “Jagoff. Nothing in that interview is a lie. God.”

“It is,” Draco insisted heatedly, climbing unsteadily to his feet. “My father would never do something as… as vulgar as what you said. Just because you don’t like us—”

“Malfoy,” Harry interrupted. A wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he leaned against the greenhouse wall again. “I don’t care enough about you or your father to lie. It’s the truth. That’s why I said it. Did you think I was trying to get revenge or something?”

Visible hurt flickered briefly in Draco’s eyes, and he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he snarled, but there was a distinct lack of heat in this second rebuttal.

Harry shrugged. “Go away.”

Draco ignored him, moving to lean against the wall as well. He nudged Harry’s bag with a toe in curiosity. “What is that, Potter?”

Harry scowled, pulling the bag away from Draco’s foot before pushing a hand through his hair. “Snape told me to get this stuff.”

“Ah…” The only warning that Harry got was an odd hitch in Draco’s breath, and then Draco leaned in, his tongue hot and slick as he licked a path straight up from Harry’s chin to his temple.

Harry shivered.

In the next instant, he jerked away and found his voice. “Stop it, Malfoy!”

“You were bleeding,” Draco’s voice was distant, husky, almost dreamy, and Harry self-consciously wiped the side of his face with his sleeve, the trail of saliva feeling slightly sticky. Draco’s eyes were gleaming and hungry, bright in the encroaching shadows.

“So?” Harry demanded, nettled. “How does that give you permission to lick me?” He quickly added, “Which was disgusting, just so you know.”

“You were bleeding,” Draco repeated, and he flushed slightly, his hand reaching out to grasp Harry’s wrist as he leaned closer. Harry’s eyes drifted closed as Draco’s breath fluttered over his lips. Er, a little voice in his head piped up suddenly. He’s doing it again. Draco’s fingers brushed over the pulse in Harry’s wrist, caressed the underside of his arm; slowly traced the slightly frayed seam of his robes before creeping up his neck and inching along his jaw, tilting Harry’s head up slightly. Harry could feel the warmth of their mingled breath in the bare space between them.

Remember what happened the last time he was weird like this? The plaintive quality of the voice in his head and the memory of his hour-and-a-half shower after the last incident turned him cold, and he turned his head away so sharply that Draco’s nose hit his ear. “No.”

“No?” Harry winced at the sound of Draco’s indignant squawk. “What do you mean, no?”

“What’s it sound like?” Harry said. “I don’t want you to kiss me. Get off.” Harry tugged Draco’s hands away from his face.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, sitting back on his heels. “Oh, all right, Potter. How much do you want this time?”

"I—" Harry paused, frowning in puzzlement. "What?"

Slowly, enunciating each syllable, Draco said, "How many points do you want this time?"

It took a moment longer for that sentence to sink in, and Harry was left gaping stupidly at Draco for several minutes. "I—How can you—how dare you—I," Harry sputtered. Lost for words, Harry scrambled to his feet and went to the greenhouse entrance, shoving the doors open so hard that one of the panes of glass broke on the recoil. Under his breath, he said, "Stupid Malfoy. What does he think I am, the bloody ponce—"

"Mr. Potter."

The silky, snide voice stopped him in his tracks, and he held back a wince as he looked up. Professor Snape was standing before him, arms crossed, fingers idly tapping against his biceps. "Ten points from Gryffindor for vandalizing a greenhouse. You really should learn to control your temper," Snape pulled his wand from a pocket in his robes and repaired the window.

"Why are you here…sir?" Harry asked reluctantly.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Some of those herbs are very delicate, Potter. I had doubts of your success all along, and when hours went by without your return… well. I'm quite afraid I feared the worst."

"I finished. I was just about to bring them to you," Harry said.

Snape looked deliberately right and left, and pinned Harry with a glare that was just beginning to sparkle with maliciousness. "I'm afraid I do not see the fruits of your labor."

Harry frowned and glanced around for the bag of herbs he'd just had in his hand. The door behind him creaked open, and he fought a scowl as Draco's voice cut through the air. "Did you forget something, Potter?" Draco sauntered over to Snape's side, idly swinging Harry's bag back and forth beside him. "Ten points from Gryffindor for leaving an Arachnea lying about. It's very dangerous when left alone, you know."

Snape and Draco shared twin smirks, and Snape circled around to Harry's right before continuing. "Didn't I say that your task was to be completed without assistance? 5 points from Gryffindor for not following instructions properly. Five points to Slytherin for a pleasing show of magnanimity despite Potter's hopelessness."

Harry clenched his hands into fists and took a step forward. "You can't do this!"

Snape's eyes shone with glee. "Did I hear you, properly? I can't do this? Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek." Harry scowled, his cheeks heating up with a flush of anger as Snape's smirk seemed to get ever more infuriating.

Draco began to rifle through Harry's bag, sheer despair crossing over his face as he wrestled out the Arachnea root, hexing it with a Petrifictus Totalus and rescuing a badly bruised, cobwebbed flower from its clutches. "Professor," Draco said, dropping the Arachnea root and cradling the flower, "Potter ruined a Solarium Grandiflora!" The flower trilled weakly, and Snape took the flower from Draco with a sigh. Draco turned to Harry with a horrified, angry expression. "Don't you know that you should never—that you—oh. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being an absolute beast—"

"That's not fair!" Harry said, and Snape waved his concern away.

"I think I can save this specimen. Come along, Draco. If this is an example representative of the rest of the contents…" Snape trailed off in disgust and strode off without another word.

"What's so special about the grandiwhatsitsname?" Harry said, and for a moment he thought Draco wasn't going to answer him.

After a moment, however, Draco shrugged. "I like it. It sings."

Harry stared at Draco in shock. "You docked Gryffindor fifteen points because you liked the bloody flower?"

Draco flushed. "Yes, actually. I did. And besides, it's a really important ingredient in a dragon pox tonic—which you would know, if you ever paid attention in Potions."

"Don't talk to me like we're friends, Malfoy. I want my points back. You and Snape double teaming me wasn't fair." Harry scowled and crossed his arms.

Draco gave him a veiled look. "I don't know if I want to, now. You really know how to spoil a mood."

"Oh, sod it, Malfoy. Look. I. I mean. That is." Harry hesitated, his stomach roiling, and took a deep, calming breath. He swallowed, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "One hundred and fifty points. And I… I won't let you do anything. You know. Disgusting."

Draco stared at him for a long moment, so long that Harry thought he was going to refuse, and smirked. "You're too easy, Potter." Draco grabbed the petrified Arachnea and pivoted away from Harry in one, quick movement. "Prefect's bathroom in an hour. The password is Nautilus." With that, Draco was gone.

Harry stared at Draco's retreating back, going numb at the thought of what he just proposed.

An hour.

This is the last time, Harry promised himself. No matter what he does, no matter how many points I lose, it ends tonight.

*

Forty-five minutes later, Harry was in the prefect's bathroom, hidden safely beneath his Invisibility Cloak and hoping desperately that Anthony Goldstein would just finish his bloody bath and go away. The Ravenclaw had been there when Harry had snuck in, but fortunately he'd been too involved in his conversation with the mermaid to notice the door opening. And so Harry found himself huddled in a corner trying not to breathe as the Ravenclaw Prefect chatted up a portrait. Bloody brilliant.

Ten minutes later, Anthony apparently decided he'd had enough conversation and clambered out of the tub, drying himself off and pulling on his clothing. Harry watched it all with a strange sort of detachment, much as he would his male Gryffindor Quidditch mates in the shower. He was relieved to think that maybe he wasn't that much a pouf after all.

Harry waited a couple of minutes to make sure Anthony wasn't going to come back for anything else, and was just about to take off his cloak when Draco strode into the bath. Harry froze as Draco shut the door and looked around the room before taking a deep breath. Tension went out of Draco’s shoulders as he reached up to loosen his tie, and he kicked his shoes off as he made his way to the edge of the tub. Harry found himself watching the slim silk tie slide through Draco’s fingers, and clenched his eyes shut in horror. I’m not going to watch this, he told himself, and turned resolutely to the wall.

A minute or so later, there was a small splash, and Harry turned around in spite of himself to find that Draco had disappeared under the water. Harry took a deep breath and tossed the cloak off, kicking it into the corner as he ran a hand through his hair. He stepped closer to the pile of Draco’s clothing as Draco came back up for air.

Draco blinked up at Harry, wiping water out of his eyes as he smiled. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Harry said sourly, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “I did.”

Draco swam back to give Harry some room, cocking his head sharply in invitation. When Harry didn’t show the slightest inclination to move, he scowled. “Well?”

Harry swallowed, his heart thumping hard in his chest as he toed off his trainers and socks. He felt himself getting hotter under Draco’s strangely avaricious look and took a deep breath, avoiding Draco’s eyes as he quickly finished undressing. He crossed his arms self-consciously.

"Oh, come on, Potter," Draco taunted. "It's not like I haven't seen all the important bits before."

Harry scowled and clambered into the bath without another word, arms coming up automatically to cross over his chest again. Draco laughed and swam over to him, grabbing his wand and muttering several locking charms at the door. "It would be inopportune if the Weasel showed up unexpectedly, wouldn't you think?" Draco asked Harry as he set his wand aside. Harry made a small grunt in response, and Draco scowled. "You sound like Crabbe and Goyle. I insist you stop this whole grunting nonsense."

Harry grunted again, and was caught off-guard when Draco dunked his head under the water. He came up to the surface sputtering, rivulets of water running down his spectacles. "Malfoy, I can't see."

"Do you really need to see, Potter?" Draco asked as he plucked Harry's spectacles off his face and set them next to his wand. "You know exactly what we're here for." Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Draco ran a hand over his shoulder. Harry grew tense with expectation as Draco swam behind him, and was completely unprepared for the sudden burst of scent around him as Draco rubbed something cool and slippery on his back.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, eyes flying open with panic. Draco snorted.

"It's soap, Potter. I'm cleaning you up—you're filthy. If you think I'm going to touch you like this…" Harry closed his eyes again as Draco's hands moved into his hair, fingers moving in small, methodical circles against his scalp. He felt the foam from the shampoo start dripping down his forehead and raised a hand to wipe it away. Draco's hand was already there, and their fingers caught against one another for a long moment before Harry pulled his hand away.

"I can clean myself, Malfoy," Harry muttered quietly.

"You live with Muggles, Potter. You've probably learned to do it all wrong," came Draco's reply, but it was oddly soft and without any sort of heat. Harry decided not to respond and allowed Draco to continue, relaxing a little despite himself.

It was comforting, Harry thought, when someone took care of you like this. Draco's hands were gentle as he washed and rinsed him, and Harry suddenly wondered what kind of expression Draco had—if he was still sneering, or if his face had transformed into something softer… but he wouldn't look. It would break the weird sort of tranquility that had fallen over him, and he didn't think he really wanted to know the answer, anyway.

Draco brushed his lips against the side of Harry’s neck, and Harry let his head drift to the side to allow Draco more room, too comfortable to really consider fighting. Draco’s kisses left an intriguing tingling sensation on his skin, and he shivered, pressing his knees together and squirming a little as he began to grow hard under the water. Draco's hand trailed down his side and curled around Harry's erection. Harry jumped a little in surprise, his eyes flying open.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry yelped.

Draco's motions stilled. "Ah… what you wanted me to do?" he ventured.

"I don't want you to do anything!" Harry exclaimed, and pulled away from Draco, his relaxation plummeting as he squinted a glare in Draco's direction.

Draco sneered at Harry and breathed out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, that's right. How silly of me to think you might be enjoying yourself."

"Enjoy myself?" Harry protested. "Blackmail? Hello? Do you even think before you talk, Malfoy?"

Draco gaped at Harry and stammered, "I was—I mean—I was trying—"

"Trying to what?" Harry asked. "Trying to pretend I was here because I liked you or something?"

"Shut up!" Draco yelled, moving through the water as though he wished he could stomp over to Harry effectively. "Just—shut up!" He grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and yanked his head backward. Harry winced as Draco's fingernails dug into the line of his jaw and then Draco's mouth was on his, hard and punishing. Harry winced, pulling back and slipping on the floor of the bath. Draco's arm went around Harry's waist, keeping him upright with surprising strength, and they stared at each other for what seemed like an endless moment before Draco lost his grip and they both splashed into the water.

Harry inhaled a stinging lungful of soapy water and clawed his way to the surface. He reached the edge of the tub and clung to it, coughing and trying to shake the water out of his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked, slow and tentative, as though each word were dragged out of him.

"I'm bloody perfect, Malfoy," Harry choked out between gasps of air.

"This was a really bad idea," Draco said.

"You're saying that like it's a surprise!" Harry exclaimed. When he calmed down and stopped coughing, he turned back to look at Draco, unnerved by his silence. Draco was on the other side of the pool, floating on the water. The mermaid giggled and swam in her portrait, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't talk to her, too, do you?"

"What?" Draco asked, turning over in the water and finding his footing again.

"Nothing," Harry said. The mermaid shot him a dirty look. "Look, are we going to do this or not?"

"We haven't exactly had any success thus far, have we?" Draco shook his head and swam for the edge of the tub.

"Where are you going?" Harry blurted out, and flushed as Draco paused and slowly began to turn around.

"Why should you care?" Draco asked, tilting his head and staring at Harry.

"I don't!" Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, then," Draco said, and reached up to hoist himself from the tub.

"Malfoy!"

"What?" Draco shouted, huffing an angry breath as he turned back to Harry. "What exactly is it that you want, Potter?"

"I want…" Harry made his way to Draco's side and grabbed his arms, continuing fiercely, "I want my points." He pulled Draco forward and froze at the feel of Draco pressed against him. Draco looked at him through his eyelashes, his breath speeding up to match Harry's as he dragged a wet hand up Harry's side. Harry released one of Draco's arms and curled his fingers into Draco's hair, tugging him closer until their mouths touched.

Draco didn't respond, lips warm and still beneath Harry's for a long minute, and Harry was about to give up and run with at least some of his dignity intact when Draco breathed a moan and slid an arm around Harry's neck. They remained like that, one kiss melting into another and another, gentle and tender, and Harry trembled in Draco's arms, unprepared for the lack of violence between them. This was too intimate, too personal; it should never be like this, not with them, and Harry felt raw and exposed.

Harry let go of Draco's hair to curl his palm against Draco's jaw, leaving this kiss to bite at Draco's shoulder. Draco sighed and scratched his fingernails against Harry's scalp, fingers running over the nape of Harry's neck to dig trails into his back. Harry made a small sound at the sensation, and Draco nibbled on the curve of his ear to distract him. Harry shivered again—he remembered doing that to Malfoy when this first began, but the way it sent chills down his own spine was startling. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and they both gasped at the feeling of their erections being pressed into skin.

Harry was trailing his fingers down Draco's arm and watching goose bumps chase after his touch when Draco spoke again, barely more than a whisper. "It's okay, Potter. You don't have to do this."

Harry pressed him against the edge of the tub. "Shut it, Malfoy," he said, and moved forward. There was no space between them, just the rub of water and skin, shallow breathing and the drag of Draco's arousal against Harry's stomach. Draco's lips were already parted in anticipation when Harry leaned in for a kiss, and it was sweet and so slow that Harry felt a tightness in his chest, as though his heart had swelled a size too big. He pulled away, and Draco opened his eyes, exhaling quietly.

"Can I—" Draco cut himself off, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Can you what?" Harry asked, frowning at Draco.

"Just. Just sit up here," Draco said, patting the edge of the bath. Harry gave him a narrow, suspicious look, but decided that at the very least, if Draco did something weird he could kick him, and obediently pulled himself up. Draco's hand burned on Harry's thigh as he moved between his legs, and Harry froze, suddenly unable to breathe.

"What are you—" Harry began, but then Draco lowered his head, and Harry's breath escaped in a loud gasp.

It felt weird at first, Harry thought. Draco's mouth was warm and wet and a little spongy. Then he wrapped a dripping hand around the base of Harry's erection and sucked; a strange small sound crept out of Harry's throat, and he gripped the edge of the tub hard enough to feel his fingernails bend under the pressure. Draco shot him an anxious look and grabbed Harry's hand, flushing a little as he rested it on his head. Harry blushed as well, pushing his fingers through Draco's hair to cup the back of his head. Draco made a small whimper of pleasure that seemed to echo down Harry's length, and there a scrape of teeth that made Harry whimper and thrust up.

Everything seemed just a little askew to Harry—his breathing was harsh and loud, Draco's mouth made obscene sounds as he sucked around the head of Harry's cock, the glide of Draco's teeth when he least expected it caused him to shake, and those noises Draco kept making felt as though they vibrated down into him to lodge against the base of his spine. Draco's hair was silky against his palms, and he was so obedient, following every silent direction, accepting every thrust, and Harry felt a rush of power that was just as heady as the feeling of Draco's tongue pressing against him.

He could feel his orgasm building, sizzling along his nerves and aching in the tension of his muscles, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Draco's head with both hands. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, to give Draco a chance to breathe, but he ignored it, clutching Draco's hair with enough force to hurt and thrusting, his rhythm faltering the faster he burned. Draco braced himself with his hands on Harry's thighs, and Harry was completely unprepared when Draco swallowed, and Harry cried out as he came, bright and almost painful, with Draco's throat flexing around him.

When Harry could think beyond the buzzing of his afterglow, he couldn't stop himself from stealing a look at Draco, who had turned away from him.

"Um," Harry said, "If you want, I could…"

"Don't worry about it," Draco said hastily.

Harry frowned, slipping bonelessly from the edge of the tub back into the warm water. "I, um. I don't mind. Not really. I mean—"

"I said, don't worry about it!" Draco snapped. "I'm fine!"

"You don't need to yell!” Harry snapped back, a little baffled at Draco's attitude. He was just trying to be nice; this reaction was completely uncalled for.

"Then stop talking!" Draco yelled.

"I take it back! You can take care of yourself!" Harry glared at Draco's back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"For God's sake, Potter, don't make me say it!" Draco finally turned toward Harry again, his face red with embarrassment and misery.

Harry blinked and shut his mouth.

Apparently, this was the right move, because the horrible flush started to fade. Draco huffed a breath and Harry averted his eyes as Draco climbed out of the tub. He tried to gather his courage as he heard the rasp of towels against Draco's skin; until he heard the hiss of silk and robes being tugged over shoulders—when Harry finally looked, Draco was fixing the knot in his tie.

"Are you sure I can't…?" Harry focused his eyes on Draco's shoes.

"One hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor," Draco answered, and left, the door clicking behind him with a disturbing finality.

Harry turned in a slow circle, utterly confused. Eventually, he got out of the tub, dressed and picked up his invisibility cloak from the corner. He felt uncertain, and a little lost and confused, and he didn't know why. He hadn't even really had to do anything this time—maybe that was it? Malfoy had just acted so strange the entire day, and it'd thrown him off balance.

The mermaid gave him a coy wave, and Harry scowled at her before he hurried out the door, slamming it loudly. It echoed in the corridor, and Harry scowled further, his mood worsening even more by the second. What was wrong with him? He got what he wanted, and it had been less than hour he'd spent away from Gryffindor, and besides, it wasn't like anyone was going to realize what he'd been up to.

He missed Cho, even if Hermione was right and she was absolutely bonkers with emotion.

He trudged reluctantly back up to Gryffindor tower and stashed his invisibility cloak, and then went to the common room to brood, settling on the couch and staring into the cold fireplace.

"Harry?" Hermione said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Harry jumped. He hadn't even heard her coming up to him. "What?"

Hermione took a seat next to him on the couch, and twisted her hands in her lap. "How was the identification exam?"

Harry shrugged. "Snape failed me. Like I expected. Apparently I almost killed some sort of singing flower."

Hermione smiled. "The Solarium Grandiflora! It's an adorable plant."

"So I've heard." Harry sighed, scuffing his shoe on the carpet.

"Harry?" Hermione bit her lip, obviously hesitant to say anything further.

Harry scratched his cheek, remembered how Draco had licked the blood from his face, and put his hand down. "What?"

"Is something wrong?" At Harry's look, Hermione continued. "It's just that, you've been acting odd recently. Is it Cho again?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not Cho."

"I know we've been busy with the DA," Hermione toyed with the edge of her sweater cuff, "and I know you've been having problems with Occulmency, and I've been trying to get you to study for your O.W.L.s , but you do know Ron and I are still here for you, don't you?"

Harry blinked. "Wha—of course I do!"

Relief washed over Hermione's face, and she threw her arms around Harry, squeezing him in a tight hug. "If you need to talk about anything, Harry, I'll listen. If something's wrong or you've been having more visions of You-Know-Who—"

Harry hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder and trying to ignore the hair that was doing its best to smother him. "You don't need to worry about me, Hermione."

Hermione pulled back to look at him. "Of course I do, Harry! You're one of my best friends. And if you're in some kind of trouble—"

"I'm okay," he told her, and hoped she believed it.

~*~

Home