I'm so sorry you guys. So, so sorry. I kind of wrote myself into a corner and couldn't think of plot advancement for the longest time. I'm not sure if I'm even happy with this chapter, but it's something after so long at least.
After cleaning up and walking hand in hand with Draco out of the common room and down to the Great Hall, Harry found himself halted in front of the great mahogany double doors. Draco stood in front of him and looked down at him, a strand of corn silk hair partially obscuring one eye.
"Draco, I cannot believe last night actually happened." He said in a low voice, with a small smile.
"Really? I would've thought the fact that you could barely stand up this morning would have been enough to prove to you that you didn't dream those shenanigans."
"True, I suppose" Harry replied with a quiet laugh and a playful glance at his boyfriend. Draco pushed the giant doors to the Hall open, took two steps in, and stopped. Harry's mouth fell agape, Draco's expression hardened into the coldest of Malfoy scowls. The blasted photo of their impromptu affection was plastered everywhere! Polaroid prints littered the walls, and the four banners hanging from the ceiling to denote each of the House tables were somehow enchanted to display the snapshot in—quite literally—living color. First years pointed with faces aghast and confused. Students in Harry's year snickered and pointed at the pair from behind palms. Harry was used to being stared at and talked about, but the state of shock he was in didn't allow him to even acknowledge the whisperers today. Suddenly, Draco clamped a strong Seeker's arm around Harry's waist and began steering him about-face and out of the Hall. But something occurred to Harry as he came to his senses. If the picture was here, where else did it end up. As if on cue, hundreds of owls began swooping into the hall in a flurry of feathers and birdcalls. Harry squirmed out of Draco's grip, shooting him a look that said; "I'll be right back, please don't murder anyone while I'm gone." Harry sprinted to the Gryffindor table, and was immediately accosted by questions, comments, and even a few japes and laughs, none of which he responded to. He presently located Hermione, who met his eyes with a deerlike expression of shock. Before she could get a word out, he asked her frantically, "Hermione, the Prophet?" She numbly handed him the copy that was in her hand. The front page read: "House Rivalry: Resolved?" above the very same picture that adorned the Great Hall. The byline read—of course, who else?—"Rita Skeeter".
"Fuck" Harry cursed, before whirling around and booking it back to Draco who stood still fuming at the door.
"We have a problem," Harry said, thrusting the periodical before Draco's eyes. The infuriated blonde simply gripped the paper and held it to his side, grabbed a hold of Harry once again, and steered him on their original course out of the Great Hall without a word.
Harry soon gathered that Draco was headed towards the Room of Requirement, which, conveniently, Creevey should have been leaving just about now. Sure enough, as the pair approached the entrance to the room, not yet hidden, forth emerged a sleepy-looking and confused amateur paparazzo with no camera, but a rather amusing "little problem." Harry might have giggled had the circumstances not been so dire, and had there not been nearly tangible waves of unadulterated rage radiating from the boy by his side.
Just as Colin looked up to see the boys, an expression of anger and slight shock crossing his face, Draco shoved the paper in his face and demanded, "What the fuck is this, Creevey?" We had a deal, we held up our part, and we destroyed you camera, besides. So how did this photograph of an intimate moment in our lives that is NO ONE ELSE'S BLOODY BUSINESS get published to the front page of this slanderous rag? Do you realize you've put both of our lives at stake? You really have no fucking clue, do you, you worthless gnat? Now talk. Admit you broke a deal for a quick thrill and a few Galleons, or I'll make you wish magic wasn't real."
By this point, Draco's voice was wildly fluctuating with rage, from low and cold and frightening to loud and hysterical. Colin cowered under his intimidating stance nad gaze. Finally, he spoke.
"I didn't leak the picture. It wasn't me," he said, attempting to keep his voice from shaking.
"You filthy fucking liar! How dare you try to- " Draco started, looking increasingly livid by the second.
Colin desperately tried to plead his case, cutting Draco off with, "Malfoy! I swear, please, just hear me out. It was not me. Someone I thought that I trusted asked for the picture, offered me money for it. I really need those Galleons, Malfoy, my mother's been ill. I couldn't say no. I didn't think anything bad would come of it."
"Bullshit. Not so tough now that you don't have anything to lord over us, are you? Now confess before I get thrown in Azkaban like my piece of shit father for the use of an Unforgivable."
"Malfoy, please, my mother really is ill. But that's not the point, the point is; I didn't leak that picture, at least not to the Prophet."
"Who did, then, Creevey?" said Draco, taking on the tone of someone who was tired of hearing too many lies.
There you go guys, very short chapter and a bitching cliffhanger, I know. But sometimes writing cliffhangers motivates me to write more. Reviews on how this was written would be much appreciated. Thanks, everyone.
P.S. My fiance's playing the HP soundtrack to motivate my creativity. I love this man.