a/n: My second (and last) challenge fic for Cuban Sombrero Gal's Five Things Challenge in the HPFC forum. (There's a link on my profile if you wanna give it a shot!) Based on the idea "Five Times Harry Potter Said 'Yes' When He Should Have Said 'No'."
I promise, this one will be significantly brighter than my last one -_-^ (If your brain needs refreshing or you have no idea what the bloody hell I'm talking about, check out Coping. Quite frankly, I'd appreciate more reviews… I know, I'm such a whore.)
Once again, five chapters, to be completed over the course of five weeks, updates every Saturday.
Warning: HPDM slash (with a twist!), LEMON/LIME, language, Pansy being a bitch as usual…
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.
"Harry… Harry, wake up!"
I stirred, startled awake from the only good dream I've had in months by firm hands shaking my shoulders.
"Ginny… Is that you?"
I reached out to my nightstand to retrieve my glasses, but instead of brushing my fingers across the wooden tabletop, I felt her cool skin as she enveloped my hand in hers.
"I can't seem to get to sleep… Can I sleep with you?"
"Sure, I guess so."
She slipped under the covers almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Her back pressed against my chest and she sighed contentedly.
"I feel like I belong here…"
"In my bed?"
"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of 'I feel like I belong with you', but your bed works too, so long as you're in it…"
I could feel her smile radiate through her skin. And as I wrapped my arms around her body, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't feel the same way.
"Are we still on for tonight, Draco?"
Pansy's voice oozed seduction, the meaning of her words practically dripping from the finger she used to trace patterns across Malfoy's back.
Malfoy hunched forward, his backbone making slight impressions in his uniform shirt. "You know it," he drawled as Pansy's fingers made their way to his chest. She hugged him as best as she could with a desk in between them, and then released the blonde.
Pansy turned to her tablemate, who was, Harry had to admit, one of the few attractive Slytherin girls, and pushed aside her golden blonde hair to whisper in her ear. Harry could only make out a few words from his desk across the aisle, but he could fill in the blanks.
"Draco said… tonight… Room of Requirement… hot body… huge… so ready."
She concluded her with a giggle, and her friend responded likewise, although it was obvious to anyone looking closely enough that the gleam in her eye was jealousy, not excitement. As Pansy went back to scribbling on a piece of parchment, Harry saw the other girl's eyes flicker over to Malfoy and a quiet sigh escaped her pouting lips.
Harry's attention turned toward Hermione, who sat behind the pair listening as if she couldn't help herself. She looked stricken; her face wan and her eyes wide under a forehead creased with terror. She glanced over at Harry with those big, horror-filled eyes and mouthed,
Harry had to hide a snicker behind his hand as Hermione, seeing he would be of no service to her, turned forward again, arranging the book she was reading so that it blocked her view of everything in front of her.
Two desks up, Malfoy was leaning in towards Blaise Zabini, his hands out, fingers making the quintessential right-forefinger-goes-into-circle-made-by-left-thumb-and-forefinger gesture. Blaise nodded his approval with a tight-lipped smile before going back to the book he was taking notes from. Malfoy sat back in his chair, obviously pleased with himself.
And why shouldn't he be? Harry wondered bitterly. He was about to fuck the easiest girl at Hogwarts, maybe the whole of Britain. With her face, she'd have to be easy because there was no other way she'd get it. But from Malfoy… Well, Harry had expected a little better.
Ron had seen fit to awake from his usual study hall period slumber and was regarding Malfoy with a touch of awe, a touch of envy, and a touch of anger at himself for having such reverent feelings about Draco Malfoy.
Harry shrugged and said pompously, "If you ask me, I'd say he's being kind of whoreish."
"Oh, this coming from a bloke who has random girls crawling into his bed on a nightly basis?" Ron's eyebrows shot up in a knowing look and disappeared under his messy fringe.
Harry paled. "So you heard that…" Ron nodded, a smile slowly creeping its way onto his face.
"Well, don't get too excited, Ron. It was just Ginny and she couldn't sleep, so I let her bunk with me for the night."
His smile slipped easily into a grimace and his hands tightened around the corners of the book he was supposed to be reading but had been using as a pillow during the last few periods.
"No worries, nothing happened. She fell right asleep."
Ron snorted. "I bet she did…"
Harry shrugged again and left Ron to his fuming. What good did it do to lie about it?
Ginny would have had sex with him last night if he had asked, but to be honest, the thought never crossed his mind, though it might have crossed hers once or twice. There was no need to squirm against someone for as long as she did just to get comfortable, Harry was sure.
But wasn't that what was supposed to happen? Wasn't he supposed to fall in love with Ginny Weasley and her beautiful pale skin and soft, red hair and the freckles on her stomach that he liked to connect with invisible lines drawn with his fingertip? Wasn't he supposed to marry her and become an official member of the Weasley family like he had wanted since his first trip to the Burrow?
Ron's feelings about boys looking at his baby sister and Hermione's dislike of misogyny aside, Harry tried looking at Ginny in every possible way, just to be sure of his feelings. As a guy, as a friend, as a brother, as a lover, as everything he could possibly imagine, he still ended up with the same answer: He just didn't love her like she loved him.
To put it bluntly, though Ginny was fairly well endowed, she lacked a certain other… endowment that Harry preferred.
Harry shook his head. He was still pretty uncomfortable with the whole Hey-I-Might-Be-Gay! thing, as the only clue he had to go by was getting turned on when he watched some of the better-looking players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team shower. And maybe that was natural, who knew? Harry had never had a father to help him through tough times like this. But he didn't know whom he could go to without someone making a big deal about the whole thing. He could just see it…
If he told Hermione, she would be shocked at first, of course, but then she'd have the best time fixing him up on dates with suitable males and trying to include him in "Girl Talk" with her and Luna. If he told Ron, he would most likely turn green, then faint, then wake up saying that he never wanted to look at Harry again and how he'd always wondered about that time when gnomes got inside the Burrow and the family had slept outside in tents and he and Harry had been forced to share a sleeping bag. And if he told Ginny, well, she'd try to be supportive, but he knew the news would devastate her and ruin all her carefully constructed plans for their future, because Harry was, after all, supposed to spend the rest of his life with her.
The best thing to do was keep pretending and maybe one day, after he'd married Ginny and they'd had a few kids, he'd realize that he made the right choice staying quiet and that it had been just as he'd suspected: A faze.
Harry stared blankly twirling his quill in one hand and resting his chin in the other.
"Just what are you looking at, Potter?"
Harry's attention snapped to focus with a shake of his head.
Malfoy glared at him, his lip curling back into a sneer like a dog would raise its hackles.
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