Title: Unconditionally - continued
Genre: Drama, Romance.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione
Summary: HP/DM slash. Sequel to Unconditionally Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.
Rating: depends on which site you are on
Disclaimer: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.
Warnings: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.
Setting: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.
AN: If you are reading the story on – it's censored version, meaning less explicit. If you want naughty parts – go to my account on .net
Since the visit from the Aurors it has been… well, I am not as good with words as 'Mione, right? She could possibly find a smart term for what's happening, I will simply call it 'crazy'.
'The Prophet' just wouldn't leave Harry alone. Not a big surprise, because there hasn't been anyone as famous and as openly gay as him, since when… Like ever, maybe? Sure, there has always been some rumour going around about some people, like Amelia Bones, for example. But it has always been just some talk in the kitchen. Harry, on the other hand, has announced it publicly, so it's no wonder that it's the only topic, which everyone and their dog is discussing like mad.
Oh, and they all believe that they have a say in this.
Personally, I don't see him as 'gay' or something. He is just Harry for me and if I had to call him anything, I would call him 'Malfoy-oriented' or something. I guess, because I haven't really seen him sweet on any other bloke or men in general and probably because for some reason I am more comfortable to think about it that way. Hermione wouldn't want to hear it, but I would be happier if Harry was dating a girl. Sorry, but that's how I feel.
It has gotten worse at the school as well. Sure, there are many who stand by Harry Like me, Mione, Dean, Lav, Neville, Luna. Oh, and Parkinson and that weirdo Zabini of course. Then there are those who are not close to us, but neutral and accepting. And then there are some who are trying to be accepting, but obviously Harry's relationship with Malfoy is making them uncomfortable.
Like the Patil twins. They are pure-bloods and obviously of the conservative kind. But at least Padma and Pravati keep their mouths shut. Not like some… turns out that there are too many of those that are 'hostile' (I am citing Hermione here). Some are against homosexuality in general and some don't like Malfoy being Harry's boyfriend and some don't like Harry being gay, some don't like that they are so open about it, they say that they don't care what queers do in their bedroom, but they don't want to see them. Which is kind of stupid, because it's not like they even snog in public or anything and school rules don't say that you are not allowed to sit next to each other or hold hands.
But that's just the school. There are ore many different fractions in the Wizarding World and every one has their own opinion on what we should do with Harry. Or Malfoy.
They should just leave them alone. Mind their own business.
Not that I wouldn't have liked if my best mate had picked someone else. Oh, I would have thrown them a party, were it a wizard or witch. But I am starting to accept the fact that he won't. Sometimes it pisses the shit out of me when he acts as if he's been tied to Malfoy's apron strings or something. Me, being me, blunt and with emotional range of a teaspoon (which is totally not true, by the way), one time I couldn't stand looking at the 'dynamics of their relationship'(I am citing Hermione again) and I let Harry what I thought about it, to put it lightly.
But Harry just smiled and told me that I was being a bit hypocritical there. He made a stupid face and started cooing: 'Yes, Hermione, of course, Hermione, as you wish, Hermione…' Alright, alright… I told him to shut up, that I got the point.
It's just hard to accept that Harry and Malfoy are basically the same as Hermione and I. That they are as serious about it and all, even if they are guys. But Harry has a point he probably wasn't trying to make. Malfoy is such a girl. He is moody like one, certainly. With all the primping and his perfect hair. And he wears jewellery. This shiny stuff, with gems and everything. Rings, bracelets and necklaces. I guess it's a good thing that he's too much of a wuss to pierce his ears!
I don't care, if it's bigotry or whatever, I say that Malfoy has embraced his gayness in full.
I think it wouldn't be hard to think of Malfoy as of a girl. That would be also getting him back for being such a prick. A private revenge kind of.
Dean, Harry and Neville are sitting on Dean's bed, Harry is telling them about the Godric's Hollow. I say he's done a good job with the house.
"…well, yeah, I don't have electricity in the house. It's never has been there, so if I wanted I would have to make everything anew. But I don't think that the wards I have on the house would allow that. But, well, I have a fridge, I just don't plug it in. I put a chilling charm on it, so works and feels like a normal fridge."
"And what about a Tv?" Dean asks.
"Sorry, mate," Harry shakes his head. "Doesn't like magic."
Dean scratches his head: "If I would decide to live in the magical world, I would miss the box, you know. No football."
"Well, we went to Cinema a lot,"
"You took Malfoy to see movies?" It's me who asks that. I know what a movie is, it's actually very cool. But Malfoy as one of the wizard supremacists or at least had been raised as one. I am not sure that he hates everything muggle anymore; well, if he does, then that doesn't keep him from squeezing his arse into obscenely tight jeans.
Harry shrugs and smirks: "He can't get enough of it."
"Too much information mate!"
"I meant movies!"
Dean and I we both snicker. Malfoy hooked on muggle cinema, isn't that funny? Neville obviously has no idea what a movie is, so I guess I should explain it to him…
Our conversation is interrupted by the knock on the door.
"It's open!" Dean calls out.
The door swings open and for some reason, Zabini is standing at our door with his trunk floating behind him.
There is silence for a couple of moments before Harry asks Zabini what he's doing there.
"Oh, and I thought you'll never ask. Why, of course I am moving in!"
Moving in? Why?
"Zabini," I say when no one else says anything. "This is the Gryffindor boys' room."
"Oh, really," the git rolls his eyes; I can see why he and Malfoy are such good friends. "The wrong door then, I was actually looking for Gryffindor girl's room. I don't think Lavender will mind to bunk together, she looks like a very friendly girl."
"Merlin! You really are daft!" He exclaims. "I am moving in. Potter is moving out. We are swapping the rooms! Great idea, isn't it?"
Why would he want to… "Why?"
He levitates the trunk inside and drops it with a bang in the middle of floor. "Why? Isn't that obvious? Have you looked at Potter or Malfoy? Really looked. Well, I'll tell you that the Princess there," he gestures towards the Slytherin boys' room. "Gets worse than Pansy when she's PMS-ing if he doesn't get his beauty sleep. And you won't want to see that, believe me."
"And, Draky-poo hasn't been sleeping that well. And I believe that Potter here hasn't been very happy either," he finishes with a wink.
We all look at Harry and when he puts it like that, I guess Zabini is right. Harry looks a bit tired these days.
"I think it would make things better for everyone if Potter was living with Malfoy. No?"
That actually makes sense.
Harry asks if Zaibni truly doesn't mind. From the way he's perked up, it's obvious that he likes the idea.
"Not really," I think the smirk never leaves Zabini's face for longer than a couple of minutes. "I have a chance to feel as noble and self-sacrificing as a Gryffindor, don't I? Besides Draco wouldn't put out anyway. I have been trying for six years, but now when he had shacked up with Potter… I can recognize a lost case. It's time to move on…" he leers at me and Dean.
Merlin! The guy… he… he has no shame! I do hope he's just joking…
"Stop standing there like an idiot and start packing Potter!" Zabini commands. "Make sure to take the sheets with you, and maybe a strong Scourgify on the bed wouldn't be amiss. I can't really know what you've been up to in that bed while dreaming of Draco, eh, Potter?"
Well, at least Zabini is not a bore. If it's a good thing, though, - time will show.
It's pure heaven. I haven't spent a night sleeping next to Draco what seems like for ages. Doesn't matter if it's actually just a couple of weeks. I love it when his face is the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning.
Besides there are so many very good ways to wake someone.
I sit up and carefully pull the blanket off him. Draco obviously misses the warmth; he tries to snuggle into the sheet and the pillow and makes an unhappy grumbling sound. When we sleep together, we always sleep naked. Not very practical to dress before bed when the clothes come off the moment the lights are out.
So here he is, gloriously naked and half-hard already. Beautiful. He is simply beautiful and I think I will never tire of saying that.
I straddle Draco's legs not actually touching him. For a moment, I stop; I can't quite decide where to start. He looks so delicious. Everywhere. I wonder if it would be possible to come from just looking at him. I guess it might. But there is no need to find out, because I can touch him as much as I want, why wouldn't I?
I lean down, wet my lips a bit and my tongue start it's way from his knee along his thigh up to his hip. His skin is soft and a bit salty, Draco's thigh is pleasantly rounded and lightly toned, he has put on some weight and is not as scrawny anymore. Slender, but not unhealthily thin. Draco's body is a strange, tantalising mix of gracefulness, angularity and softness. There is the elegant line of his body, the slim waist and long limbs. There is his jutting hipbones and thin ankles and then there are his plump pectorals and absolutely tasty, round buttocks. The deliciously bony knobs of his spine.
Draco groans and rolls on his back giving me all of the access I could wish for. I give his inner thigh a lick and nibble on his hipbone. I can see his 'interest' rising. I think I am going to go for my prize; we don't have much time after all, with classes and everything.
"Potter, you beast,"
I look up and meet the pale grey eyes that are trying to glare at me, but didn't quite manage. The smirk pulling at the corner of Draco's lips really ruins it.
I think our stay at Hogwarts is not going to be as torturous as I assumed.
I wonder why I am surprised to be summoned by McGonagall. I shouldn't have expected it, but I guess that sometimes I simply don't think. When I am doing something, I forget that there will be consequences of my actions and I fail to think about them. I am a doer, not a strategist. That's Ron and even Hermione sometimes.
Draco however looks like he has already been expecting to hear from the Headmistress. When I scratch my head trying to figure out what is it she wants, he snorts and lets me know that 'the old prude' (it's not a secret that he doesn't like her) is most likely put out by our moving in together.
I find the fact that she knows already disturbing enough, but to face her and talk about, that is simply too much. Besides, Draco looks like he is about to step on the war-path. Not good.
Draco smirks at me, I bet the bastard is amused that i am about to be embarrassed in front of the Head of my house. Even if she isn't that anymore, she will always be for me.
As soon as we walk through the door, it becomes obvious that professor McGonagall is as disapproving as ever. Her lips are pinched, hands joined I front of her, posture stiff. I am instantly ready to apologise and move back to my old room.
But Draco looks ready for a fight. No, not just ready, but eager even.
"I assume, you are aware, why I wanted to see you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," her tone is stern and unforgiving.
Draco crosses his hands over his chest and sticks out his jaw stubbornly. Shit. He is going to make it worse.
McGonagall launches into full frontal attack. She has been made aware of the changes we have made considering our living arrangements. Unwarranted changes. She thinks it is not proper for us to share a room.
"As the headmistress of this school I can't support it," is the verdict.
Draco snorts. Loudly. Here we go. I can't say, that I didn't see it coming. I am well aware that there is nothing much I can do to stop him.
"You wish to add something, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, indeed, I have. As far as I know, there are no rules against two students of the same gender and the same age sharing a room. There are no rules against student's from different houses sharing a room as long as none of them try to move into a different tower from that, which they had been sorted into. That also doesn't apply, since Apprentices' Quarters are 'neutral territory'."
He gives Draco a pointed look: "Mr. Malfoy, I am well aware that you and Mr. Potter's relationships are not those of two students."
I am starting to feel hotness creep up my neck, but Draco is not fazed.
"So?" He challenges. "There is also no rule against that. There is one against public demonstration of affection and we are ready to comply with those. But student's rooms are considered 'private' as opposed to public, so they can have whatever relationship they wish behind closed door. I don't see a problem there."
"Mr. Malfoy, only because there are no rules that directly address…"
"Yes, there are no rules, because apparently the school Governors in past were not willing to admit that homosexual wizards and witches might even be in existence. Not that they were not expelled – excuses that were more proper were usually made. At least before Dumbledore. But none of it matters, what does is that there are no rules against us sharing a room."
McGonagall looks like she is about to say something, but Draco doesn't let her.
"You demand that we change our behaviour in certain ways. You personally. We are not breaking any school rules; I would call it abuse of authority, Headmaster. The opposite of favouritism. Discrimination. Don't you agree?"
"You have a way with words Mr. Malfoy,"
"And what does that have to do with anything? You know very well, that I am right and I can prove it. To the board of governors, if needed."
I think McGonagall wants to hex him. I personally want to stop this, before it goes too far and we have a repetition of the bouncing ferret.
"It's alright. We will get a room at the Three Broomsticks or maybe buy a house at Hogsmeade," I try, because one is clear – I am not going to part from Draco. I tried, it didn't work.
Oops. I guess I have made a mistake. They are both glaring at me now. What? Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.
"Mr. Potter. It is out of question! Not all the Death Eaters have been apprehended. You would be putting yourself in danger. Besides, it would be disruptive to other students and to the overall morale of this school, if you were living off the grounds. Can you imagine what the Prophet and other sharp tongues say?"
I guess possibilities are endless, they have never lacked imagination...
"I am not going to live above a dingy pub, Potter! As for a house, we have one already, don't we? Or it's more like three between us, at least here, in Britain. Probably more. This is ridiculous!"
McGonagall wants to say something else, but Draco cuts her off: "This is all groundless harassment. It was not even Potter or I who wanted to switch the room. Think about your decision Headmistress, think well, and remember that the rules are on our side, that we are both adults and the less fuss you will make about this, the less fuss there will be. Don't you agree? Come Harry."
I shoot professor an apologetic look, but Draco already has me by the arm and he is dragging me outside.
"She will leave us be, as far as there are no rules against us living together, there is nothing she can do officially. As long as we don't give in, we can share the room."
"How do you know about those rules?" I am quite sure that he didn't sneak down to the Library last night to do some research, smug bastard. I mean I am very sure, because I know where he was – at the receiving end of my cock.
"I researched them with Blaise back in the third year, when he realised that he was not very picky… I mean bisexual. We were worried that if he did something, he would get into some kind of trouble. It turned out that the school rules simply ignore the subject. Boys are banned from girl's dorms, public displays of affection are forbidden, and there is a cause that school will not take responsibility for any teenage pregnancies. It is ironic, they were so prejudiced that they won't even admit that homosexuality existed and thus they provided us with an opportunity to do whatever we wanted, even if not wherever we liked."
Merlin, but I like Draco when he is like this, all confident, devilishly clever and pleased that he had managed to outsmart someone. Actually, I think his bitchiness is incredibly charming, not that I would ever dare to repeat that aloud… unless I change 'bitchiness' to 'Slytheriness', use it as a code name. That would be amusing, to call Draco something without him realising it.
I don't believe in coincidences. Oh, I do think they exist, happen whatever, but it still doesn't change the fact that I personally don't believe in them. I think coincidences are for idiotic, reckless Gryffindors like Potter. It's his kind that get good luck, flukes. They get smiled upon by fortune and all that.
In my world all the coincidences are unfortunate or they are carefully devised by someone. When Harry and I ran into Sandrine Scrimgeour on the Hogsmeade weekend, like hell I believe it is a coincidence. Well, maybe at first, before she gives my boyfriend, my lover once over and that 'you're the wizard of my dreams' look and I start wishing her painful death.
"Harry Potter, it's been a while," she says and I raise an eyebrow. What a silly, little hussy. She addresses him as Harrypotter. Could have as well called him The-Boy-Who-Lived, because it's very clear that is whom she thinks she's talking to. Not Harry, but Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the hero and while Harry doesn't exactly realise it, I am sure that somewhere on subconscious level he does.
Then she turns to me with a seemingly polite: "And you must be Draco."
Her expression at the same times says 'I wish you were dead'. Well, it's mutual.
However, I respond with a smug 'keep dreaming about him darling' smirk and tell her what a pleasure it is to meet her, even if Harry has never mentioned her name. I guess I have not lost my touch even after consorting with too many Gryffindors for too long since her most charming smile turns into the most strained one. I am tempted to offer her a cheering charm or a sugar-quill, since her mood is obviously turning sour.
Then Harry's arm slides around me and his large hand settles on my hip, pulling me closer to his side. It means that he is suspecting something – it's a silent order to play nice. The thing is that poor Miss Scrimgeour is not really going to appreciate the gesture. How can she appreciate something she doesn't understand?
I get her figured out. She's rich and beautiful and her daddy is an influential man. She is used to getting her way. When it doesn't work out like that for the first time, it confuses and upsets her greatly. She throws a tantrum, not publicly though, because it wouldn't do to loose her face. But she's not stupid. She gets over it and she is ready to be devious when simply demanding doesn't work.
I would know her type.
However, she lacks finesse. She can't really hide what she feels. Sadly, I have the first hand experience with that too, but nobody's perfect.
At the moment she is telling Harry about what a great job she has been doing at St. Mungo's. Helping al those poor people. What an angel of compassion. I don't snort or roll my eyes though, because it is not hard to be a bigger man when Harry's fingers are rubbing against my hipbone.
"You know, I really feel like I am doing something important, really helping," self-absorbed much?
No matter how impressed Harry looks, this is not some contest in goodness. Harry is not a prize she is getting if she proves that she is a better person than I am. Besides he doesn't really look that impressed. I think the witch simply puts Harry on guard. With a good reason. Potter can be obtuse at times, but his instincts are damn good.
Then Weasley and Granger turn up and Weasley proposes that we go and have a drink at Three Broomsticks and Harry, the ever-chivalrous Gryffindor, invites Sandrine and her two sycophants along.
I have to stifle a sigh, but whatever. As long as it is, I, who gets to sit on Potter's lap.
The pub is packed. I am not so sure about going inside after what happened with Rosmerta. Just because Wizengamot cleared me, doesn't mean that everything has been forgotten. In fact I do believe people would be spitting at me if there wasn't a chance they could miss and accidentally hit their Hero.
Well, too bad. Harry is close at my side and if I think about it, as long as we are together, I feel like there is no place I would be afraid to go.
Potter orders himself butterbear and wine for me. I let Sandrine see my triumphant smirk. Just my lack, that Harry is as socially astute as a blast ended screwt and woudn't think of offering her a drink. Your beloved hero has eyes for his boyfriend only, honey. Oh, Salazar, I sound like… like Queenie, Daphne Greengrass, she was a vindictive bitch ready to sit throats at sight of competition.
I think it's pitiful how she's trying to suck up to my boyfriend.
Granger starts asking Sandrine something about St. Mungo's. I can't even be properly angry with her, because, I know that she is actually curious, not only encouraging Miss Sunshine to brag about her amazing healing skills.
"-and there is this little green-eyed boy, you know what, Harry, he reminds me of you so much… the poor thing was so miserable, I was so glad, when I could help him to feel better. I love children, I can't wait till I can have my own. You would like to have children, Harry, wouldn't you?"
Harry is obviously taken aback by her question. Of course he is. That's not a question one asks a wizard one barely knows: "Well… I guess I would…"
"Of course, you would. Who wouldn't?"
I see Granger narrow his eyes. I don't know exactly what is her problem, but it's definitely with Sandrine.
"Oh, but that was insensitive of me!" And this is a bit melodramatic. "After all you and Draco… well, you know… you both must be very much in love to give up so much to be together. Family life, children…"
I want to strangle her. May I?
"You know, Sandrine," Granger beats me to saying something to the little bitch, which is a shame, but I think whatever she's about to say would be interesting, because her voice is hard as steal.
"You are wrong. Not everyone wants to have children, and there is nothing wrong with that. Besides, if Harry really wanted to become a father, he could always adopt. Or he could use a surrogate."
What? I am not stupid, but have to admit that Granger confuses me once in a while, usually with her muggle trivia. So that "surrogate" she's talking about must be a muggle thing as well.
"What is a surrogate?"
"Ah, wizards don't do this, right? I meant Harry could use a surrogate mother to have children. It's a woman who agrees to carry a baby for someone else. Usually she does it for a couple who can't have children for some reason."
"Why would anyone do that!" Sandrine exclaims and for once, I agree with her. That sounds barbaric.
"Many of them are very generous, they want to give others chance to experience the joy of parenthood," Merlin, but she does sound like a textbook or some kind of pamphlet. "I guess, sometimes they do it for money."
That I could believe.
"But how can a woman give away her own child!"
"Well, these days they usually take the egg from another woman, an anonymous donor, so the surrogate is not related to the baby, that she's carrying. That should make it a bit easier."
"That's disgusting!" Sandrine exclaims.
"No, it's not. It's admirable. It's even easier for a woman to have a child. She can use a sperm bank, become pregnant. The donors are always anonymous."
"Muggle women become pregnant by random men? Why would a woman do that?"
Yes, that's a good question. Why would a woman carry a child without having her husband's support?
"But what about bloodlines, inheritances?"
Granger rolls her eyes: "Some people just want to be parents. Without improving their status and muggles usually don't care about bloodlines."
"Alright," Sandrine pretends that she has conceded, but I think she just doesn't want to fight with someone who is close to Harry. "But they are muggles. If a wizard had a child with a muggle woman, the baby could turn out to be a squib!"
"That's not the end of the world!" Well for Granger it might not be. But I am not even going to contemplate what my fate would have been if I had been born squib. I suspect the plot at the north of the grounds is where I would end up... Not that I am going to say it aloud.
Granger and Sandrine both turns towards Harry. As if he was some kind of source of greater wisdom.
There's an awkward moment, before Harry realises that they are waiting for him to speak his mind.
"Well, I think a child is a child and parents should love their children no matter what,"
Granger looks at him with motherly pride. She can be so ridiculous sometimes, that I find it almost cute.
"But it might be unfair to create a child who would never have magic like parents on purpose."
I feel it's time for me to say something: "Harry, no child of yours will ever be a squib. You are too powerful. Besides, if magic was only hereditary, then we would be spared Granger's lectures."
Weasley snickers and she rolls her eyes. Merlin, but I have just realised that they have gotten used to my remarks!
"Draco, play nice!" Harry chastises me. But he knows I'm just teasing her and so does she. I can't believe this! My snippy comments don't work on them as they should! Not anymore.
I will have to whinge about it sometime later though. I have had enough of Sandrine.
"How about a walk. Just two of us. I don't think anyone would mind?" I look at Weasley and Granger deliberately ignoring Scrimgeour, not to mention her sycophants.
"No, of course we don't mind! Go, have some fun, guys," Granger is such a good witch after all.
I grin at everyone as Harry helps me to stand up and I can't help myself -I wink at Sandrine as we stroll away.
Next day our group is trying to study in the library. With Potter, Weasley and Pansy amongst us, it's not easy. Weasley keeps zoning out, every fifteen minutes or so, his eyes go all glassy and Granger has to pinch him to get his attention back on work.
Pansy is only marginally better; she has also never been the academic type.
Harry is as bad, only in a different way. I keep pushing his hand off my thigh, but it keeps returning there, if I let the hand stay, it starts sliding up and up and... He keeps apologising, but in ten minutes, the hand is back. He's not even doing it consciously.
It's not that I mind the attention, but I can't concentrate when he's all over me!
And as if we already weren't getting nowhere, an owl lands on the table in the front of Potter and pushes a letter into his face.
"What is it, Harry?"
Merlin, but Granger really doesn't know her place. What makes her think that she should be privy to Potter's correspondence?
"It's from Kingsley," he says and gives her the letter.
Oh, fine! Harry lets her manage his life, the lazy bastard. No wonder that she thinks she has right to meddle into his affairs all the time. She can e useful, but it is becoming annoying.
She scans the parchment: "Hm, well, it says that Scrimgeour is trying to talk Kingsley into investigating… well, basically investigating your relationship. How ridiculous."
"Can't he just order Shacklebolt to do it?"
"No, Harry. At least not without a good reason. But there is a lot of public pressure. Scrimgeour can't just have Harry tested for love potions. To do that he needs witnesses, instigators."
"He wants to test Harry for love potions?" Funny that Weasley finds that idea so outrageous, disconcerting as it is, he must be warming up to me!
"Are you not reading the Prophet Ron? Anyway, that kind of blood test has to be instigated by possible victim's family or closest friends, or someone close to them. Random people or Ministry toadies don't qualify. But still, Shacklebolt is warning us to be careful."
Us? I wonder if I will ever get used to this big, happy Gryffindor family. But I guess they can be useful as allies sometimes, minions would be better, of course, but sometimes one has to make the best of what he has.
"Hey, baby," hot breath caresses my ear followed by brush of lips. "Planning world domination?"
Annoying bastard. Pansy snickers. Bitch.
"But why does this blood test or whatever has to be instigated by relatives? Can't the Minister just tell hem to do it?"
"No, Harry. The law is there to protect wizards and witches. Otherwise, Ministry officials could easily collect samples of everyone's blood. Can you imagine how much can be done with a wizard's blood?"
I can see from the look on Potter's face, that the answer is 'not exactly', but luckily, Granger lets it go. I am not in a mood to be lectured by her. Especially, when I am about to do some lecturing on my own.
"That is not the only reason, Granger."
That gets her attention: "Well, of course it is not. If anyone could just demand that people where tested for love potions then everyone who didn't like someone's lover would be demanding that their get tested. The Ministry would be very busy with investigating claims of jealous and jilted lovers."
"You are not wrong, they are lazy like that. But there is another reason for the law. It allows families feed their children love potions and get them marry the right person, when they become rebellious. As long as the family raises no objection, no one cares that the prospective heir is drugged up to his eyes."
"But that's awful!"
"That's how it works."
"Yeah, with purebloods like you," Weasley mutters under his breath.
"Yes, Weasley," I don't let Harry to defend me this time, because Weasley is right and I don't want Harry jumping to my defence all the time anyway. "What do you think my father would have done if he was still around to discover that…" looking for a word-
"You are a raging poof?"
I don't bother glaring at Pansy, no point to waste a good glare. She's incorrigible.
I don't want to argue. I could. I could tell Harry that he could never possibly understand, but for some reason I hate saying that. Sometimes it's true, there are things that certain people would never understand. And that is exactly what makes it pointless to say it.
"It's all about propagation," ah, Pansy has decided to grace us with her wisdom. "We like homosexuals as long as they marry and spawn. The thing you, Potter, are doing with Draco is unheard of. The most eligible bachelor of our generation is publicly gay? How can anyone not to hate that? All those poor mothers who had a dream to have you marry their daughters. You are not only famous and powerful, you are rich too. You could pick anyone you wanted."
"But they are attacking Draco, not me!"
"Potter, they have to blame someone and they can't blame you, since you are their darling. That's why they are blaming Draco, because if he has turned you gay, corrupted you, you can be saved if Draco is removed."
"And dangerous," Granger states.
I wish she wasn't right. Sometimes, when Harry is not around or when someone looks at me as if they wished that I had never been born… I can't say it doesn't trouble me.
"I will protect you,"
Fuck you, Harry!
I don't understand, but I want to tell him to shut up and rip off that hand which is on the small of my back right now.
"Oh, that's it!" Granger springs to her feet. "With you I will never finish my runes essay. I am moving to the next table."
She's absolutely right: "What a wonderful idea, Grenger. Know what? I am still working on mine too. I think I will join you. Hands off my person Potter!"
I need a minute for myself and I think burying myself in school-work is a great idea right now. Besides I like seeing that poor puppy look on him sometimes…
I guess, saying that I hate Halloween would be exaggerating it a lot. Hate is a strong word, or so people say and I think I agree completely. I remember hating. My fifth year was a nightmare and one of the reasons was that I spent it hating Voldemort, hating Snape, hating Umbridge and the helplessness that I was feeling. I was so damn angry all the time.
But when I think about it… some of that hate and anger I was most likely Voldemort's. I just wish I could forget it.
And I wish some of those things, which I associate with Halloween had never happened. But if that's too much to ask for, then I wish it wasn't the biggest wizarding holiday and everyone wasn't so chipper about it.
It's kind of stupid, but perfectly describes my relationship with the Wizarding world. For them it's the anniversary of Voldemort's first fall, for me – the day when I lost my parents. It is not that I want to walk all day around crying, but I would like to be left alone.
"Hey, Harry!" Some overexcited Gryffindor runs past me on the way to the Great Hall, I think he's a fifth year. Barry or Berry.
"Merlin! Whoever that brat was, I am going to write his mother and tell her that fornicating with a banshee was not her brightest idea ever!" It's actually a relief that Draco is in a fouler mood than I this morning. I am ready to let him abuse everyone who thinks that they should wish me happy Halloween or, God forbid, thank me for saving the Wizarding world today.
In fact, I think, it's cute when Draco is a bit grumpy and his insults can be very creative and amusing. Even Ron thinks so, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from everyone, especially from Hermione, who thinks that insulting people is not nice.
I know she's right, but Draco is never as mean as he once was and some people deserve it.
The only bright spot of the day is the owl I get from Mrs. Weasley, Molly. It's the first one since my birthday party. I wonder about the timing.
"I knew she will come around, mate," Ron pats my back.
Then he turns towards Draco with an almost maniacal grin on his face: "You should be getting ready Malfoy. I bet you will be spending Christmas at the Burrow."
The look of panic on Draco's face is the second bright spot on the face of this awful day.
A/N: Yes, as you see, I am back. Writing again. No promises about timely updates, but you can expect some. The reviews I kept getting brought me back, even if I am very busy.