Entry tags:

hp fic, hp fic: harry/draco

Title: Hiding in Plain Sight (2/3)
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco.
Rating: NC-17. All characters are over the age of 18.
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta(s): leela_cat and lettiehatter.



The first day of school found Harry sitting up at the Head Table having stuffed himself full of a delicious dinner of roast beef and all the trimmings, as well as a fantastic banoffee pie. The Sorting had gone reasonably well; Harry listened to the Song carefully, but thankfully it had no underlying messages this year, as it had so often when he was at school.

His introduction to the school had been nothing out of the ordinary either, Professor McGonagall had told the students his name and he had received a smattering of unenthusiastic applause. Draco leant over as the students had clapped and whispered, “Don’t worry, I didn’t get any applause when I was first introduced.”

Although Harry knew this shouldn’t make him feel any better, it did. At least Malfoy knew what he meant, he thought. When Harry caught himself wishing that the students were a bit more receptive to having him as their teacher, he realised that that he would have to teach as Harry Potter rather than Sebastian Griffiths. That was definitely not what he wanted.

For the week that Harry had been at Hogwarts he had been intensely cramming in the library. Considering that Harry had lived in the Muggle world with very little need for any defence spells at all, he was quite impressed at what he remembered. Unfortunately, what he remembered was about enough to teach the first and second years. Finding that most of the theory came back to him after he had read it, Harry had settled into the library for a week of reading to get himself up to speed as fast as possible. Harry had not realised how much he’d missed using magic until he brought his wand back into regular use again.

The end of the meal soon came about and as the last few stragglers left the Great Hall, Harry stood up to leave.

“Sebastian,” Draco said. He stood up and pushed his chair under the table. “One second, I’ll walk with you.” Draco walked over to McGonagall and said a few quiet words to her before he rejoined Harry.

“Sorry about that,” Draco said as the two men left the Great Hall.

“Don’t worry,” Harry told him. He didn’t really know what Draco was apologising for, but decided not to ask unnecessary questions.

“Have you got a class first thing in the morning?” Draco asked. The horse in the painting they just passed neighed loudly and galloped out of the painting.

“Amazingly no,” Harry replied. “Not until second unit, thank God. I don’t think anyone would mind going to work on a Monday if they got to lie in an extra hour.”

Draco laughed. “That’s very true.”

“Although I have a class in the last unit of Friday which is almost as bad,” Harry mused.

“Very true. Sebastian…” Draco said pausing. “Would you like a quick drink… just to ring in the new school year?”

“I…” Harry knew it was an awful idea. He wasn’t here to make friends with anyone, he was here to fill a void and that was it. Under the radar was a phrase that he fully intended would be applied to his Professorship at Hogwarts, along with unassuming and unremarkable. Harry would be fully content with giving the students a good understanding of the basics on which their future Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons should be based. “Yes.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He knew that once he started something was Draco it was going to be impossible to leave.

Draco smiled and continued to walk. “Good.”

Harry and Draco walked down to the dungeons in friendly silence, until they reached a portrait. The two men stopped in front of the picture. The woman in the portrait was quite unattractive, there was a quality to her face which was just not right.

“Sebastian,” Draco sighed. “This is Professor Vanessa Tushingham. She was a Muggle Studies Professor from the early 19th century. I can’t for the life of me figure out why she is my portrait, but that is neither here nor there. Telegram.”

The portrait swung open without a word.

“She isn’t talking to me at the moment, the stubborn old bag,” Draco told him as he walked into his rooms. “I can’t imagine why.” He grinned wickedly before he collapsed into the sofa in front of the fire.

Harry stood by the portrait hole awkwardly before Draco beckoned him over to sit down. There was a coffee table in front of the fire, which was blazing, heating up the entire room pleasantly. Draco pulled out his wand and summoned two glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky. He poured them both a glassful, then murmured a charm. Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it sounded familiar. He took his glass and took a sip. The alcohol burned down his throat and felt like an inferno was blazing in his stomach. The feeling disappeared a few seconds later.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“You’re welcome,” Draco said. He clinked his glass against Harry’s and took a big gulp. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a gorgeous painting,” Harry said, gesturing at the large animated picture of Hogwarts above the fireplace.

“Thank you,” Draco said with a smile. “I’m rather fond of it myself. I went to school with the artist actually.”

“Really?” Harry blurted out. “Who is it by?”

“Dean Thomas,” Draco Malfoy said. Harry was very aware that Draco hadn’t taken his eyes off of him in quite a while, so he made sure his face showed very few unexpected emotions. After all why would Sebastian Griffiths be surprised at Malfoy having a painting by Dean Thomas?

“Well, it’s lovely,” Harry said lamely.

Draco nodded and smiled. “I never knew Thomas really. He was in the same year as me, but he was a Gryffindor so we automatically didn’t get on. I didn’t even know he was an artist ‘til we left school.”

“I take it you were a Slytherin then?” Harry asked with a grin.

“I was,” Draco admitted, shaking his head ruefully.

“I see,” Harry said carefully. “People change a lot once they leave school, you might get on if you met again now.”

“Maybe,” Draco replied. He stared at the picture for a while longer. Harry decided against speaking for a while, Draco looked very deep in thought.

Downing the rest of his drink, Harry thought it might be time to leave. Firewhisky was disgustingly strong and he was already feeling fuzzy around the edges. He glanced back at his glass. It was full again. A look of confusion overcame Harry’s face.

“Refilling Charm,” Draco said, reading the look on his face perfectly.

“Oh,” Harry said. “I shouldn’t drink too much… I’m starting to feel it already.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Dear me, Sebastian, I know third year Hufflepuff girls who could drink more Firewhisky than you.”

Harry laughed and took a swig of his drink very deliberately. “Jus’ a bit more then.” He leant backwards into the couch, making himself comfortable.

The two men sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping at their drinks every now and again. Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off the painting above the fireplace. Seeing the entire castle there was difficult. There were places in the castle Harry had been unable to go back to, mainly the Astronomy Tower and the Room of Requirement. He couldn’t imagine that Malfoy was exactly a frequent visitor up there either – too many memories. The picture was a frequent reminder as well. Harry couldn’t stand it personally; he wanted to be able to forget what had happened. Maybe Malfoy wanted to remember. Maybe he needed to remember.

“Malfoy…” Harry said drunkly.

“Don’t call me Malfoy,” Draco said. “Draco. Malfoy is my father… don’t need reminding of him thanks.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Sorry…”

“S’OK,” Draco told him. The fingers of his left hand were fiddling with some loose strands of fabric in between the cushions of the sofa. In his right hand he clutched a nearly empty glass of Firewhisky. “What?”

“What what?”

“You said my name.”

“I can’t remember,” Harry laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

Draco laughed and slumped into the sofa a bit more. Harry laid his head down, and was suddenly very aware that his head was very close to Draco’s.

“Hi,” Harry said. His eyes flickered down to Draco’s lips.

“Hi,” Draco whispered back. His tongue slipped over his lips to moisten them. He moved his head forwards a fraction.

There was nothing Harry wanted more that second than to move his head forwards and capture those pink lips in a kiss. But he couldn’t. The Firewhisky wasn’t ruling his emotions and actions that much.

Harry sat up feeling a sharp pain in his chest when he saw a disappointed look on Draco’s face appear momentarily before it was replaced with indifference.

“I should go,” Harry slurred, feeling slightly awkward, and more than a little aroused.

“OK. Well… I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch I should think. Do you know the way back to your rooms all right?”

“Yes,” Harry said, smiling gently. “I do. Thank you. We’ll have to do this again.”

Draco’s face brightened slightly. “Yes. We shall.”

Harry stood and picked up his jumper from the floor. He didn’t remember taking it off. It was rather hot in here though, with the fire still blazing.

“Bye, Draco.”

“Good night, Sebastian.”

Harry awoke the next morning with a thumping headache and the taste of Firewhisky still in the back of his throat. Glancing at the clock and noticing its early hour, he groaned, turned over, and fell straight back to sleep.

***

“Sebastian!” Hooch said heartily as she sat down into the seat next to his at dinner that night. “How has your first day been?”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti bolognaise and put down his knife and fork. “It’s gone really well thanks. I’ve had three classes today, Second Year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, Third Year Ravenclaw and Slytherin and then Seventh Year Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

Hooch drew her breath in sympathetically. “Slytherin and Gryffindor together, I don’t envy you.”

“They were quite awful,” Harry said in agreement. “Lots of sniping at each other, some name calling, the works. They drew the line at hexing though. This lot will be the last year to have been at Hogwarts during the war won’t they?”

Hooch nodded. “They were the First Years that were here during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded and took a bite of his spaghetti, and then he put a bit of salt on it.

“Do you fly?” Hooch asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Yeah, I do. I was a Seeker at school. Haven’t flown in a good few years now though.”

“Well,” Hooch said thoughtfully. “If you ever fancy a fly around, feel free. The school has brooms you can use if you don’t have your own. In fact, I’m supervising some Second Years on Thursday evening if you want to join.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “I may just do that. I might be able to get hold of a broom, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, like I said, there are plenty to borrow. Not the fastest or newest brooms in the shed, but very reliable,” she told him.

Harry nodded and the two of them ate their dinner, as they continued to discuss their first day’s classes.

That Thursday evening, Harry found himself with a Nimbus 2001, the broom that he’d envied Draco when they were younger. After picking it out of the small selection left in the broom shed, Harry made his way down to the pitch.

A number of students were already airborne. A few more were standing on the sidelines speaking to Madam Hooch. Harry had never made it to any of these extra practises when he was in Hogwarts, Quidditch training had taken up a lot of his free time as it was when he was younger. He knew, though that Ron had been fond of the practises though, as were a lot of students that weren’t picked for the House Quidditch teams.

“Hiya,” Harry said as he approached Hooch. He suddenly found himself being peered at by four second years. They seemed awfully short.

“Professor Griffiths!” Hooch said heartily. “Glad you could make it!”

“Me too,” Harry said with a grin. “I didn’t realise there would be quite this many people around though, I don’t want to look too bad in front of my students.” The four second years giggled behind their hands, scurrying away at Hooch’s glare.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Just take it easy to start with, you’ll have no trouble at all.”

Harry nodded and swung his leg over his broom. A glance at Hooch showed an encouraging smile on her face, and he pushed off from the ground lightly, eager to be airborne.

He let himself drift along the pitch, just a few feet above the ground before he pulled the broom up to go higher. Speeding up rapidly, he felt the wind in his hair, and a sense of freedom which he hadn’t felt in many years. Harry pulled his broom in even closer to his chest and to get himself moving even faster. Before he knew it he was high in the air. He manoeuvred his broom until he was horizontal again, and hovered in the air, taking in the breathtaking scenery of the Scottish countryside.

Hogwarts was miles below him. Madam Hooch was a tiny little dot on the ground. None of the Second Years beneath him were anywhere near as high as he was.

Harry considered the broom he was riding. How would it handle a Wronski Feint? He lowered himself a few dozen feet and decided to give it a go. Lowering the front of his broom towards the ground, he tucked his feet in to the broom as much as he could and dropped.

The wind was strong, blowing his hair back, as well as his cheeks. His robes were billowing, and Harry could feel the gust through his years-old shoes. The ground was approaching fast and Harry knew he needed to pull the broom up quickly or he would crash. The only fault with the Nimbus was the braking he remembered. Pulling the front of the broom up, he felt himself slow down and slow down again until, three feet off the pitch, he stopped. Once his feet were firmly planted in the grass he grinned. Apparently riding a broom was like riding a bike; you never forgot.

Hooch rushed over to him as he dismounted. He smiled fondly at the broom in his hand. Not quite as good as his Firebolt; with that he could have pulled up a lot later and still not crashed. It was gathering dust in Ron and Hermione’s loft at the moment.

“Sebastian! Are you OK?”

“Fine!” he said.

“That was quite a stunt!” she said, puffing her chest out.

Harry smiled shyly. “I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off still. Like I said it’s been a while.”

“Never would have known,” she told him. “Your flying reminds me of a student I taught, a good few years ago now.”

“Oh?”

“Harry Potter. Magnificent flyer. Pulled off something very similar to your dive there the first time he got on a broom. Should have gone pro,” she said, shaking her head as if mourning the magnificent loss that as for Quidditch.

“Oh,” Harry said, very shocked. “Well… that’s quite a compliment then.”

“It is indeed,” Hooch said, still looking rather sad. The two of them stood in an awkward silence for a few minutes.

“Well,” Harry shrugged. There was only thing he wanted to do at that moment and that was get as far away from the Quidditch Pitch as poss“I think that’s enough for me for one day. Thanks for the broom.”

“Any time Sebastian. Any time.”

***

“Sebastian!” A voice came at him from down the corridor. Harry turned around and saw Draco walking towards him in a hurry.

“Hi,” Harry said, smiling. Draco slowed his footsteps down to a regular pace, and they began to walk together.

“I was wondering if you would like to supervise the Hogsmeade weekend with me on Saturday. Perhaps we could eat in The Three Broomsticks as well,” Draco suggested.

“Oh,” Harry said in surprise. “Yeah, sure. I’ve never supervised before.” He put his hand through his hair.

Draco laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not difficult. We basically have to round them up into the carriages, wander around the village until it’s time to leave, then round them up again.”

“Do we have to accompany them back as well?” Harry asked, wondering how they would get back to The Three Broomsticks.

“We do,” Draco told him regretfully. “I thought we could fly back though, it would be quite quick.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Sure. That sounds really good actually. I haven’t been to Hogsmeade in years.”

Draco looked at him oddly. “Of course,” he said. “Well, if I don’t see you before, we have to be down at the Entrance Hall at nine o’clock on Saturday morning.”

Harry groaned, and said playfully, “You didn’t tell me it was that early! I wouldn’t have said yes.”

Draco laughed. “I know what you mean. The time hasn’t changed since I was here, but it didn’t seem like such a loss of sleep when I was thirteen.”

“Well, seeing as I get to enjoy your company all day, I can’t pull out now, can I?”

Draco laughed again and blushed slightly. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Yes. Well… I best be off. Detention to supervise and all that.” With that he walked away swiftly, his hand still pulling at his collar. Harry wondered if it was a nervous habit, the castle wasn’t at all hot in the castle. His mind flashed back to the almost kiss they had experienced a few weeks ago and he blushed as well, mirroring Draco subconsciously by pulling at his collar. Harry began to carried on to his previous destination – he had a meeting with Professor McGonagall – still pulling at his collar.

A sudden thought struck him as he realised what he was doing. Blushing, nervous habits… Harry suddenly felt like he was 15 again and pursuing Ginny Weasley. Unwilling to consider any similarities in the situations, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated on his meeting with Professor McGonagall.

***

“Morning,” Harry said gruffly. His fingers clutched at a flask of coffee which he had managed to convince the House Elves to give him.

Draco laughed at the sight of him. “Not a morning person, are we?”

“No,” Harry sniffed. “Not on the weekends anyway.”

Nodding in amusement, Draco said, “Well, they’re only one offs, you know that. Have you any shopping to do?”

Harry agreed. “A bit. Nothing particularly important though. Have you?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. “I need to pop into the apothecary as well as the book store and perhaps Honeydukes as well.”

Harry laughed. “Well, you’ve filled up most of our day, so it’s a good job I don’t have anything to do.”

“Indeed,” Draco said.

The students were beginning to trickle into the Entrance Hall. Draco sighed. “The cattle herding begins.” He walked off, leaving Harry wondering what on earth to do. He followed Draco who began to gesture towards the front doors.

“Sebastian, would you accompany the students outside and put them into the carriages?”

“Of course,” Harry said and he caught up to the students who were excitedly moving towards the doors.

Harry and Draco ended up in a carriage with three Fifth Years girls who were sitting opposite them, whispering behind their hands, and glancing at them every now and again and giggling. Draco spent the entire journey up there looking out the window, resolutely ignoring the students in the carriage. Harry sat awkwardly, trying not to listen to their conversation, but failing miserably.

Once they arrived at Hogsmeade, the three girls ran off quickly into the crowd of students who had already arrived.

“Sonorus,” Draco said, pointing his wand at his throat. “You have until four o’clock. Please don’t blow anything up, attack each other or throw up because you have eaten too many sweets. Despite that, please have fun.”

Harry laughed as Draco removed the charm from his voice. Draco shrugged. “It’s not like they listen to me anyway.” With that, the two men headed into the town.

It turned out that there were no attacks on each other, and only one person was sick. Even that was just because they’d tried a Blood Pop instead of picking up a raspberry one.

“That was very successful,” Draco declared later on as the two men finally took a seat in The Three Broomsticks.

Harry looked at him in disbelief. “If you count dragging me to every single shop in Hogsmeade a success, then I would have to say yes, it was.”

Draco grinned wickedly. “Not a shopper. I’ll have to remember that.”

Harry was very tempted to ask why he would have to remember that, but he knew that was not the kind of conversation that they should be having that evening.

There was so much Harry wanted to ask Draco, but couldn’t. What had happened to him after the Battle of Hogwarts? How had he ended up working in Hogwarts for the last three or four years? Why didn’t he appear to have a life outside of the school?

“Whisky?” Draco asked him.

Harry looked up and saw Hannah Abbot standing at their table, parchment and quill in her hand.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll have the Shepherd’s Pie for dinner, please,” Draco said politely.

“Err…” Harry skimmed the menu quickly. “I’ll have the lasagne thanks.”

They handed the menus back to Hannah.

“She was in my year at school,” Draco said.

“Oh?” Harry asked.

“Hufflepuff. Never really knew her though, I was a rather bigoted child,” Draco laugh had a bitter edge to it.

Harry said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. As Harry or as Sebastian. He settled for an uncomfortable look on his face which he hoped Draco wouldn’t recognise.

“Sorry,” Draco said, sighing. “I don’t know how much you know about my involvement in the war.”

“I know some,” Harry answered truthfully. He didn’t know Draco Malfoy very well after all. For all he knew, there could be a lot more to it than he knew about at the moment. Harry highly suspected that there was, and that he had been very wrong in what he had previously assumed. As Hermione had once told him, with a blush, when you assume you make an ass of you and me.

“Which school did you attend?” Draco asked abruptly.

“I was home-schooled,” Harry answered. He was very surprised Draco hadn’t brought this topic up before, he’d had it with the majority of the other teachers in the school, as well as a number of students. “I lived in a Wizarding town in Ireland – I doubt you will have heard of it - and there were a number of children my age who remained there.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “You would have been in the same school year as me wouldn’t you?”

“I believe so,” Harry replied. Hannah arrived over with their drinks and set them down on the table. Draco touched her arm briefly.

“Bring the bottle if you would,” he asked. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, and when her eyes flickered to him he nodded warily. She bustled off to deal with their request and Harry turned back to Draco.

“Are you ok?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine,” Draco replied automatically. “Absolutely fine.” He swirled his drink around in the glass. The ice cubes hit against the sides of the glass and the amber liquid splashed up against the tips of Draco’s fingers. He drank it in one.

“Right,” Harry said. “If you insist.”

The two men sat in silence for a while.

“There’s something about you,” Draco said out of the blue. “Something familiar, yet so abstract. I can’t place you at all, but I feel like I could say anything to you.”

His eyes were focused so intensely on Harry he thought he might begin to sweat. Silver eyes sought out Harry’s own brown ones. There was a look of longing in those eyes which Harry could relate to desperately.

Harry stared into his glass. “You can.”

The bottle of whisky was put down in the middle of the table, and Draco murmured his thanks. Picking up the bottle, he filled both glasses to the rim, before setting it back on the table as if it was priceless, and the most important thing he had ever had in his possession.

“I haven’t drunk enough for that,” Draco decided.

Seconds later their dinner arrived, and the two men tucked in ravenously. There had not been much time to pick up any lunch that day, and Harry had barely made it to the Entrance Hall for nine, never mind eat breakfast as well. They made small talk about their respective classes whilst they ate. Harry was astounded by the passion Draco displayed for his job; it was clearly his calling. Slowly, Harry was beginning to develop a love for teaching as well, although he doubted that his passion for the job would ever reach the heights which Draco’s had.

Soon enough, their meals were finished and Harry and Draco were left alone with a bottle of whisky. Draco was close to having drunk nearly a third of the bottle and Harry wasn’t very far behind.

“Do you have many regrets?” Draco asked.

“Of course,” Harry answered. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes,” Draco said thoughtfully.

“I regret a lot of things, but then I think about how my life would be if they hadn’t happened. I like my life at the moment and wouldn’t want to change it. So I guess at the same time, I don’t regret anything.” It was the first time Harry had admitted to himself in a long while that he was happy.

“I regret nearly my entire life. How awful is that?” Draco asked rhetorically. He downed his drink and refilled the glass. Harry did the same. “Everything up to the Battle of Hogwarts really. Ever since then I’ve been… I don’t know.”

“Trying to atone for your sins?” Harry filled in.

“Yes,” Draco said. “Yes.”

Harry sat quietly for a moment. “You were a child, Draco. No one should put the fate of the world on the shoulders of a child. You made the right choice in the end didn’t you? You did the right thing when it came down to it. You’re too harsh on yourself,” Harry replied quietly, truthfully.

“Harry Potter managed it,” Draco said. “He always did the right thing.”

“He didn’t,” Harry blurted out. “Not at all. He always insists it was luck, doesn’t he? And he didn’t have quite the same family pressures as you do.”

“Did,” Draco said. “Past tense. Both gone now. Father was killed in Azkaban, and Mother… well she died of grief I think.”

“Oh,” Harry said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I did my best to keep it out of the papers. The Malfoy name apparently still has a certain degree of credibility. Or perhaps they thought I’d kill them. Either way, it was for the best.”

Harry didn’t doubt that for one minute. He knew all too well the pitfalls of publicity, and he could imagine it was nearly as bad for Draco at times as it was for him.

“Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home?” Draco asked, looking up at Harry slyly from underneath his fringe.

“No,” Harry replied, slightly confused. Maybe he had read the entire situation with Draco wrong from the beginning. He was just glad he hadn’t managed to make too much of a tit of himself. “Do you?”

“No,” Draco answered him before taking a swig of his drink. “I’ve never felt the attraction.”

“To what?” Harry asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice.

“Women,” Draco answered.

“I see,” Harry said carefully, trying not to sound excited.

“Is that a problem?” Draco asked quietly, seriously.

“No,” Harry said quickly. Too quickly. “That would be slightly hypocritical of me.”

Draco smirked in triumph. “Slightly?”

“Not entirely sure I’m completely gay,” Harry answered with complete honesty.

“Ahh,” Draco said, nodding in understanding.

“How about…” Harry hesitated, feeling awkward.

“Completely and definitely,” Draco answered. The fire in his eyes mesmerised Harry.

Harry nodded, his gaze not leaving Draco’s. “Good for you.”

“Very good for me in fact,” Draco said salaciously.

Blushing, Harry ducked his head and took his drink in his hand draining the glass. Draco filled it up to the rim. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” Harry murmured.

“Trying?” Draco drawled. “You already are. And… so what if I am?”

Harry laughed and blushed an even deeper shade of rose. “Not a good idea…” he said honestly.

“When is it ever a good idea?” Draco asked. “How will you know when it’s a good idea if you never take a chance?”

Harry shrugged, feeling quite uncomfortable. Draco wanted him. He wanted Draco. Draco wanted Sebastian not Harry Potter. In fact if Draco knew who he really was, Harry was fairly certain he would have been hexed to hell and back by now.

But it would just be one night wouldn’t it? Draco would never have to know. And in all honesty, Harry had been himself as much as he possibly could around Draco. There were a few necessary lies to keep him from guessing, but everything else was real.

“I’m gonna get the bill,” Harry told Draco as he stood up. He saw Draco’s eyes darken as they dilated.

Harry paid for their dinner blindly, not noticing the price, concentrating on not tripping over his own feet as he walked towards the door.

“Come on,” Harry said as he passed their table. Draco followed, hand clutching at the bottle of whisky they had not yet finished. Overhead Harry could see that a storm was brewing. It wasn’t particularly late, not yet midnight, but the sky was pitch black. The only illumination came from a few street lamps.

“Can’t fly back,” Harry decided. “We’ll fly into the Whomping Willow!” He giggled a bit at his own joke. After three tries he managed to shrink the brooms and he placed them in his pocket safely.

Draco was meandering down the street slowly to let Harry catch up after he had finished fiddling with the brooms.

The walk back took them over an hour, including one detour into the edge of the Forbidden Forest to relieve themselves, and one incident where both of them managed to fall over their own feet and pull each other down with them.

Eventually they arrived back at the castle and walked though the corridors, the portraits all tutting in disapproval at their drunken states. Harry kept Draco from hexing any of the portraits, but did watch one shouting match in amusement until Harry thought he heard Peeves and they ran away swiftly.

Out of breath, they arrived outside Draco’s rooms. The portrait of Professor Vanessa Tushingham was sleeping, so the two men avoided any more comments for the time being.

“I’ve ‘ad a great night, thanks, Draco,” Harry said with a huge grin.

Draco smirked. “Me too, Sebastian. Me too.” He took a step towards Harry who somehow found himself up against the cold stone wall.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Slightly premature, aren’t we, Sebastian?”

Sebastian. The name echoed through Harry’s mind.

Draco’s face was inches away from Harry’s, and suddenly all Harry could think about was how gorgeous his eyes were.

However, Draco’s eyes were not on Harry’s. They watching Harry’s pink tongue which was licking Harry’s lips to moisten them. A surge of adrenaline and arousal (and possibly alcohol) had Harry moving his hands to Draco’s waist and pulling the other man tight against his body. Harry’s fingers fiddled with the hem of Draco’s shirt – where had Draco’s robe gone? – and then he placed his hands on the cool, pale back underneath.

Draco groaned, and finally, finally, placed his lips on Harry’s, his hands flying up to grasp at his face. As Draco slipped his tongue between Harry’s lips, Harry realised he was experiencing one of those kisses. The mythical kisses that teenage girls spoke about in hushed whispers, the ones that made your knees weak and your head dizzy.

Harry tried to draw Draco even closer to his body as he possibly could, fully aware that the other man would be able to feel his erection on his thigh, and confident this wouldn’t be a problem though, since Draco’s own cock was throbbing a tattoo against Harry’s thigh.

Draco moaned into Harry’s mouth and the vibrations in his mouth sent Harry wild. He held onto Draco’s hips firmly before he spun them both around, so Draco’s back was now against the wall and Harry was fully in control.

Pulling his mouth away from Draco’s, Harry was spurred on by the sound of frustration that left Draco’s lips. He licked his way down one side of Draco’s pale, slender neck then placed open mouth kisses over as much flesh of Draco’s neck as he possibly could. Soon, he came across a spot on Draco’s neck where he could feel the blood pumping quickly. Placing his lips against the tender spot, he kissed it gently as Draco let out a moan of pleasure. Grinding his aching cock against Draco, Harry pulled the other man closer.

“Sebastian..” Draco whined.

The sound of his ‘name’ stopped Harry cold and he panicked. Pulling himself away from Draco, he ignored the hurt look on Draco’s face and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, mortified, and then took off at a run to the safety of his own rooms.

“Arsehole!” Draco yelled at his retreating back angrily.

Harry didn’t look back once.

***

Harry didn’t speak to Draco again until two weeks before Christmas. Having regained possession of the Marauders Map from Hermione who he had given it to as she was the only one of them who had returned to Hogwarts, he became very proficient at eluding Draco.

Sat in the library, doing some research so he could begin to plan his Seventh Year’s lesson plans for the next term, he was suddenly found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy in the carrel between the Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions sections.

“Fuck,” Harry said as he saw Draco.

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow, snorted and turned away.

“Draco!” Harry said quickly, following the man who was weaving in and out of the bookcases.

Draco spun around, his robes billowing. “What, Professor Griffiths? How may I help you?” He looked Harry up and down, and Harry felt about an inch tall.

“I’m so sorry, Draco,” Harry blurted out. “I really am. I just… can’t.”

“And what exactly makes you think I should accept your apology?” Draco sneered.

“Because I love spending time with you,” Harry admitted. “I just don’t think it should be anything more. We’re colleagues… it’s not professional.”

“I don’t believe you,” Draco said bluntly. “But I’ll think about it.” With that Draco walked away and Harry knew that that was the best he could hope for in the circumstances.

***

A week or so after Christmas, Harry groaned in frustration as he did his best to make his way through a two foot high stack of Third Year Essays on Boggarts. They were, for the most part, completely awful. None of them had done any work over the holidays.

A knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come in,” Harry shouted.

The door opened, revealing Draco and a large bag. “We’re not going to mention that weekend. Ever. Enlarge your desk, I’m marking as well.”

Stunned, Harry did as he was told.

“Draco…”

“Shut up. What are you marking?”

“Third Year Boggart essays,” Harry said miserably. Draco pulled out his own stack as well as a very flamboyant quill and an inkwell. “You?”

“Seventh Year Felix Felicis essays,” Draco smirked. “They won’t be bad at all, they all want to be there after all.”

Harry snorted. “I don’t know about that. I did a NEWT in Potions and I despised it.”

“Oh?” Draco said, looking up. “How did you do?”

“I never finished it,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t finish any in the end, I went straight into the Aurors,” Harry answered honestly. He was quite pleased he had finally found a topic he could be honest about.

“How did you get in the Aurors with no NEWTS?” Draco asked incredulously. “It’s ridiculously competitive.”

Fuck, Harry thought. Fuck fuckitty fuck.

“Err… I did a training course from America that got me in. It was … err … more suited to me,. More… err… practical. It’s a long story,” he said hurriedly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m quickly coming to learn, Sebastian, that most things with you are a long, unexplained story.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out eventually.” The evil glimmer in his eyes scared Harry a bit.

“If you say so,” Harry muttered and then he went back to his marking. He was quite proud of himself. He only got distracted by Draco’s presence seventeen times in a two hour period. Much better than normal.

As Draco left Harry’s office after their marking was done, he turned around in the doorway.

“Would you like to go flying tomorrow evening?”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Yes. I have a detention until eight o’clock, so I can meet you at the Entrance Hall at quarter past if that’s ok?”

Draco nodded and moved his heavy bag to the other hand. “That’s fine. See you then then.”

Harry walked down to the Entrance Hall the next day with the brooms in his pocket from their evening out the week before. He had never returned them, and had forgotten about them until he had put his robe on that evening.

Draco was waiting for him when he arrived. “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “Am I late?”

“No,” Draco said lazily. “I’m a bit early.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “OK then. I still have the brooms from the other night so we don’t have to collect any.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and nodded. Harry knew he was thinking about that disaster of an evening as well, and wondered if it was on his mind as often as it was Harry’s. When he awoke alone, when he touched himself at night, every time Harry saw someone with blond hair….

The two men spent a very enjoyable couple of hours flying before they retreated to the castle, and found themselves in a very familiar situation. The portrait outside Draco’s rooms was eyeing them suspiciously as they came around the corner.

“Thanks, Draco,” Harry said, “I needed a good fly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco drawled. “You’re good competition. Don’t get that round here very often. You have a familiar style.”

Harry laughed nervously, shrugging it off. “No, I suppose not,” he agreed. He doubted that Madam Hooch was one for one on ones with other teachers. Ignoring the familiarity comment was for the best, he decided.

“Well I should probably go,” Draco said, sounding rather annoyed that he didn’t have an excuse to stay.

“Yeah,” Harry said miserably. Neither man moved for a couple of minutes.

Draco eyed him up. “I’m going to kiss you. Stop me now if you’re going to.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Good boy.”

Draco backed Harry up against the wall, pinning his hips to the wall with his hands. Without any preamble, Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Harry groaned at the intimate touch, finally allowing himself to give into Draco’s touch, just this once.

It could have been five minutes or an hour, Harry was unsure, before he pulled away. “Why do we do this in corridors when we have rooms?”

Draco smirked. “Good question. Shall we?”

Harry took a deep breath and was about to answer when a loud bang and a shout interrupted him.

The two men looked at each other. When a scream followed, they took off at a run in the direction of the noises. The commotion became louder and rowdier as they approached and Harry went to pull his wand out of his pocket.

It all happened too quickly after that. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was Draco pointing his wand at him yelling “Stasis!” and pain. A lot of pain, and his wand snapping as he fell, hard.

***

Sitting at the side of Sebastian’s bed, Draco hadn’t let go of his hand in hours. Thanks to his Stasis charm, Sebastian was going to be completely fine, apart from the continuous piss-taking he was going to receive. Who ever heard of a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor blowing off half his thigh because he’d stuck his wand in his pocket rather than in a holster. Sebastian hadn’t even had the safety on! It was a barely taught habit anymore, but Draco was going to make sure both of them followed it now.

After he cast the charm on Sebastian, the unconscious man levitated in a sphere of light while Draco had wrapped up the fight. Having been slightly flustered by all the blood which had already leaked from Sebastian’s wound, he had decided on the rather unorthodox procedure of casting a Body Bind on the fighters. He knew he’d get told off by Professor McGonagall later on but making sure Sebastian didn’t lose too much more blood had been on the top of his list of priorities.

Sebastian groaned in his sleep and a crinkle appeared above Draco’s nose as he frowned. Where was the Mediwitch, Sebastian shouldn’t be in pain.

Draco rubbed his thumb over the Sebastian’s palm, and the other man seemed to calm down slightly. He wished more than anything that Sebastian would just open his big brown eyes and smile at him softly, in the appealing way that was entirely him.

The door opened behind him and Professor McGonagall came through the door. Draco pulled his hand away from Sebastian quickly and stood up to face her.

“Minerva,” Draco greeted her politely.

“Good morning, Draco,” Professor McGonagall said. “Would you mind if I had a word with you outside for a minute?”

“Of course not,” Draco said. He had been expecting this for a while. He threw one last look at Sebastian, who was sleeping soundly, before he left the room with Professor McGonagall.

The two Professors conversed for a few minutes as they arranged a meeting that afternoon to discuss the incident in more depth. Professor McGonagall hoped that Sebastian would be awake then as well, and would be able to attend the meeting. It wasn’t strictly necessary however as Sebastian had obviously not seen the fight at all.

Leaving Professor McGonagall, Draco went back into Sebastian’s tiny room. Except the man in the bed wasn’t Sebastian Griffiths anymore. It was Harry Potter, scar and all.

Unable to articulate any words, any emotions, Draco turned around and left the room. He didn’t look back.

***

Harry awoke an hour later. His head was pounding, and his thigh was killing him. Opening his eyes, he could see he was in the hospital wing. He’d never been allowed a private room before though. It was quite nice. Swinging his legs around, and putting his feet on the floor, he slowly tried to put some pressure on his injured leg. It ached quite a bit, but wasn’t awful so he stood up fully.

He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror on the wall. Black hair, green eyes and scar were all visible. Fuck. Looking around he saw his wand in pieces on his bedside table. Double fuck.

Sitting down heavily on his bed, Harry prayed that the next person to come in the door was Professor McGonagall. Nobody else knew. In hindsight, Harry thought it may have been a good idea to tell the Mediwitch at Hogwarts, who was currently Samiah Brougham. Harry hadn’t been expecting to hurt himself quite like this though. What exactly had happened, he wondered.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Who is it?” Harry shouted, cringing.

“Madam Brougham,” the witch answered.

Fuck. “Could I speak to Professor McGonagall before you come in? Please,” Harry begged.

There was a pause. Madam Brougham sounded very put out. “I suppose. Why?”

“It’s personal,” Harry said, hating what he was doing.

“Well,” she said. “I suppose. You do sound all right, and you are an adult. I will ask her to come down when she can. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Harry said. “I’m OK. Thank you.”

Harry heard footsteps walking away and he collapsed on his bed, hiding his head with his hand. Soon enough, he drifted off to sleep again.

“Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. Harry’s eyes flew open and he sat up quickly.

“Professor,” Harry said. “My wand… I can’t do my Glamour.”

She nodded. “I realised that few hours ago. I have managed to procure a temporary wand for you, although you will of course have obtain a new one as soon as you can. The Glamour may not be as good you do realise.”

“I’ll do it more often,” Harry decided.

“And do please try and get hold of a holster, Harry. It is a slight embarrassment that our Defence Professor blew off part of his leg,” Professor McGonagall said, peering at him over her glasses.

Harry blushed, feeling like a twelve year old boy getting a detention.

“Sorry Professor,” Harry said.

“I have a meeting with Draco later,” Professor McGonagall told him.

“Oh,” Harry said with a smile. “I think I’m going to go down in a bit if Madam Brougham will let me out. I should apologise for being careless,” he said sheepishly.

“Perhaps,” Professor McGonagall said with a nod. “Well, you are welcome to join us at our meeting. Draco can give you the details.”

Harry nodded. “OK, thank you. I better re-cast my Glamour before she comes looking for me.”

“You should,” she agreed. “Good bye for now, Harry.”

“Bye,” Harry echoed before he picked up the wand. It felt wrong. Very wrong. He couldn’t believe that his own wand had survived an entire war and he had ended up breaking it while blowing off half his thigh. Typical, he thought. Briefly, he wished he was still in possession of the Elder Wand so he could repair it once again. He dismissed the idea immediately, it was an awful idea.

Sighing, he cast the spell over himself. As soon as he was finished, he knew it was not as strong as the last one, and would probably barely last half the time. First chance he got, he decided, he would go to Diagon Alley.

An hour later, Harry was pronounced nearly fully healthy by Madam Brougham. He was handed some potions of a purple colour, and with that he left the Hospital Wing and headed down to see Draco.

***


Knock, knock, knock.

Professor Vanessa Tushingham curled her lip, looking at him with evident disapproval. “What did you do? He’s in an awful mood.”

“Oh,” Harry said. His stomach sank with disappointment. He could only hope that Draco was worried about him.

She sighed. “I’m to let you in apparently.” The portrait swung out, and Harry clambered through inside. The portrait thudded shut behind him.

Draco was stood in front of the fireplace, his arms folded, and a scowl distorting his usually attractive face.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco said and at his words, Harry died a little inside.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry apologised. Harry suddenly noticed that Draco was holding his wand.

“Don’t talk,” Draco snarled. “You aren’t sorry. You let me start to feel something for you, not even you! Him. A fucking figment of your twisted imagination!”

“No, Draco, I tried to stop anything happening, you know that, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I was falling for you, Draco,” Harry pleaded.

“Oh shut up. You’re pathetic,” Draco sneered. “You should have kept yourself to yourself if you’re too much of a pussy to be yourself. It’s bad enough that you’re disguised, but to come along and engage me, me! In friendship…”

“I know, Draco, I know…”

“Stop saying my name, Potter. Take the bloody Glamour off, or whatever it is you’re hiding behind, I want to have this fight with Harry Potter not that,” Draco made a dismissive gesture, “twat,” Draco said harshly.

Harry pulled out the wand he was using and wordlessly removed the charm. He felt the features of his face begin to morph back to his own.

The expression on Draco’s face didn’t change at all.

“Still a scrawny, short tosser then I see,” Draco said carelessly.

A sharp pain bit through Harry’s chest. “Draco…”

“Potter,” Draco said. He took a step forwards and Harry clutched his wand protectively. Draco noticed. “Put that wand down.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “If you’re going to hex me, go ahead and do it, I deserve it. If you’re going to punch me, fine. Just do it Malfoy. Or are you scared?”

“Scared? Oh, you don’t know the meaning of the word, Potter,” Malfoy said maliciously.

Harry laughed harshly, and took a step towards Draco. “I think you might have forgotten who you’re talking to.”

“Well, you only have yourself to blame for this, don’t you, Potter?” Draco said smoothly. “All this hiding behind different faces, who can blame a man for getting confused?”

“Drop your wand Potter, and I’ll drop mine. I want to feel your nose crack beneath my fist,” Draco sneered maliciously.

Time seemed to freeze as the two men stared at each other before Harry let go of his wand and it clattered to the floor. Draco’s followed a second later.

Harry just glared at him. “Come on, Malfoy. Hit me.”

The look in Draco’s eyes wavered slightly, but before Harry knew it, Draco’s fist was colliding with his skull. Automatically, Harry’s hand clenched into a fist, and he aimed his punch at Draco’s stomach. The punch left Draco momentarily breathless before Harry became very aware of Draco punching him again and again, blows landing on his chest, shoulders and one very painful on his stomach.

Harry pounced on Draco, knocking him to the floor. He clambered on top of him, sitting on his hips, pinning him to the down. Draco twisted beneath him furiously, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. Adrenaline was pumping all round Harry’s body, fuelling him to enable him to keep Draco on the floor.

Draco’s arms swung at Harry’s face, and whatever else he could get his hands on. He landed another blow on Harry’s jaw.

Then Harry managed to trap Draco’s hands above his head. And, in the sudden, strange calm, he knew. “You’re hard, Draco,” Harry said in wonderment.

Draco howled with rage and bucked up. “Get the fuck off me, Potter. Please, get off. Just leave me alone…” When he stopped struggling, and Harry let go of his hands in shock. Draco immediately threw Harry off and rolled away, covering his eyes with his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Draco, you don’t even understand. I want you so much, but I want you to want me, not fucking Sebastian,” Harry raged, angry beyond belief at what he had done to Draco. He was still hard, uncomfortably tight against his trousers. Trying to ignore the blood pumping in his nether regions, Harry concentrated on Draco’s covered up face.

“I don’t know… I need some time, Harry,” Draco said from underneath his arms. Harry’s heart leapt in his chest at the sound of his first name from Draco’s lips. There was some hope.

Tempted to push Draco so he could get what they both clearly wanted, Harry forced himself to give Draco what he needed. “That’s all I can ask for. And take as much time as you need.”

When Harry got up, Draco immediately stood, and turned away from him. Harry sure the other man was wiping his eyes, just as he was, but he decided to tactfully ignore it.

“You know where I am when you’re ready, Draco,” Harry offered. He could feel a black eye blossoming. Another visit to the Hospital Wing, he thought.

“Goodbye, Potter,” Draco said dully. He still hadn’t turned around.

“Bye,” Harry whispered, and he left Draco’s rooms. He just hoped it wasn’t forever.

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