A/N: This fic is for Cissa The Bookworm who requested a Hogwarts get together. This takes place in Sixth Year and completely disregards HBP and DH. I did borrow one of the potions from HBP though…
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or its settings. I do however own my own imagination; and trust me, you don't want it.
Ends and Means and Justifications
The dungeon was filled with the sound of simmering potions. As most were brought to a successful finish, an aroma filled the room; though each student smelled something slightly different.
"If you have managed to brew a successful sample," Professor Snape droned, "then bring a bottle of your work to my desk. I'm sure I do not need to remind you of the dangers of ingesting this potion. Longbottom, I suggest you have somebody else bring your sample."
Half the room snickered. Harry frowned. It was their sixth year and they shared Potions with the Slytherins yet again. He tried to hang onto that irritation but it quickly melted away as his Amortentia finished. The aroma coming from his cauldron enticed him. He could smell treacle tart and something that reminded him of his Firebolt. There was a third scent that he couldn't quite trace. It smelled faintly like an expensive cologne. Something told Harry that he'd smelled it before, but he couldn't place it.
He was abruptly pulled out of his reverie as something splashed over his face. He coughed as a few drops slithered down his throat, courtesy of his open-mouthed shock. The liquid had a similar scent to that of his potion, and his stomach dropped. "Oh no," he whispered.
He caught a smirk before Malfoy's eyes widened in mock shock. "Look what you did Potter. Now I'm going to have to bottle another sample."
"Me?" Harry sputtered, panic overcoming him. "You just spilled Amortentia on me! I swallowed some!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Potter. I did no such thing." He held up a vial that held liquid with a distinct mother-of-pearl sheen. Harry frowned.
"Then what the hell did you spill on me!"
Snape chose that moment to descend upon the pair. "Ten points from Gryffindor for language Mr. Potter." He turned to the blonde. "I trust you still have some of the Amorostendo to hand in Mr. Malfoy."
"Of course, Professor." Malfoy smirked and turned to bottle another sample of his extra credit potion. The only other person who had even attempted the second potion was Hermione. Harry bit back a groan.
"There are no serious side effects," Snape said as he too turned and strode back to his desk.
Despite Professor Dumbledore's assurances of the contrary, Harry did not trust the potions master. Hermione would need to be consulted very soon. He could suffer through her admonishments for not paying attention if it meant ensuring his health.
That night Harry tossed in his sleep. His dreams were filled with erotic visions of white-blonde hair and grey eyes. In his dreams he could not place how he knew his partner. Every time he tried to bring the face into focus he would be lost in another wave of sensation. It wasn't until dawn that his dream-lover's face came into focus and the shock of it forced Harry awake.
He breathed heavily in the silent dormitory. His legs were sticky from the physical ramifications of his dreams. He shut his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. He did not just spend all night dreaming about Malfoy!
Forcing himself out of bed, he cast a quiet Scourgify on his sheets and headed for the showers. While cleaning off the evidence of his dreams he thought back to what Hermione had told him were the effects of Amorostendo. The potion was supposed to reveal to the drinker their true desires. Apparently Snape had been honest in that there were no serious side effects to the potion. Harry had to assume that his dreams were due to the potion. But why would Malfoy be the one he dreamt of then?
He quickly dressed and headed down to breakfast. He wanted to avoid his roommates until he had time to recover from his dreams. He frowned as they replayed in his mind. They were certainly pleasant—there was no denying that. But it was Malfoy! Why would Malfoy want Harry to have erotic dreams about him? He was absolutely certain that the blonde had spilled the potion on purpose. Malfoy was many things, but he wasn't clumsy.
There had to have been something else in the Amorostendo. Perhaps this was one of Malfoy's schemes to embarrass him. Make him dream such things so that he couldn't look his rival in the eye. Then Malfoy could harass him endlessly about it.
There was, of course, another explanation; but Harry was not quite ready to confront that possibility.
His frustration and confusion came to a head when he spotted familiar blonde hair in the entrance hall. The other boy was without his usual posse, much to Harry's utter delight. Throwing all sense to the wind—as he was wont to do—he stormed toward the blonde. "Oi, Malfoy!" he said angrily.
Malfoy spun around, eyes narrowed. He relaxed when he saw who it was. "Potter," he said pleasantly. "I hope you had pleasant dreams."
The smirk was wiped from his face as Harry slammed him against the wall. "What the hell did you do to me!"
Malfoy frowned. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not in the mood for your shit, Malfoy," Harry said in a low growl. "That potion you spilled on me. What did you put in it?"
"It was Amorostendo," Malfoy said, seeming more exasperated than afraid. "I told you that yesterday."
"You had to put something else in it!"
"Hardly," Malfoy argued. "I wouldn't risk ruining a decent potion, or the extra credit. Not even to get at you, Potter."
Harry blinked at the admission and realized it was probably truthful. Malfoy was an absolute prat, but he took great pride in his school work. He felt movement near his thigh and quickly glanced down, expecting to see Malfoy reaching for his wand. Instead, the pale hand flexed against the cold stone. Harry remembered a vision from his scene, and wondered if the real Malfoy's hands were as dexterous.
He pulled his mind from that train of thought as he felt his body react. He bent closer to Malfoy in an attempt to intimidate him. As he leaned into Malfoy's face he smelled the same scent that his Amortentia had emitted the day before. His anger immediately fell away and was replaced by curiosity. He inhaled deeply through his nose, undeniably enjoying Malfoy's scent. This was an interesting turn of events.
"W-what are you doing?" Malfoy's voice wavered.
"Why did you spill your potion on me?" Harry asked. It was suddenly urgent that he have this answer.
The blonde let his head fall against the wall. "Because you are incredibly oblivious and stubborn."
Malfoy closed his eyes. "Merlin, Potter!" he almost sighed. "If you feel the need to have this conversation, could you put some distance between us so we can talk like civilized people?"
It was then that Harry noticed that Malfoy was breathing more heavily than usual. He could also feel his pulse racing at an alarming speed. His face was paler than usual. Suddenly his answer was right in front of him. "You fancy me?" he asked more than stated, voice full of alarm.
Malfoy deflated under the pressure. "Potter, just leave me alone, will you?"
Harry shook his head. "No. You do, don't you? But why spill the Amorostendo on me?"
The silence stretched for a long time, at least it seemed that way to Harry. Finally, "I wanted to see if you felt the same way."
"By bathing me in a potion?"
"Even you can't argue with Amorostendo. It reveals only what is hidden to you. No one else can influence that." He took a deep breath. "I figured if what I suspected was true, you wouldn't be able to deny it. I forgot how utterly Gryffindor you are."
Ignoring what must have been an insult—he was sure of it—Harry thought over the dream. Combined with the fact that his Amortentia actually smelled like Malfoy—well, there was only one conclusion to be drawn. He couldn't say he liked it, but there it was. He may be considered stubborn and thick-headed, but he wasn't a complete idiot. Still…
"I dreamt about you last night," he admitted.
The blonde snorted. "So I gathered."
Harry eyed the unusually defenseless boy before him, and considered. Malfoy was beautiful, he could admit that much. But he was a bloody git. And a snob. And cruel. And an utter annoyance. But even Harry could admit that he'd always been intrigued. Obsessed, Hermione would say. Ron would call it vigilant. He tilted his head and looked the blonde up and down. He shrugged. It wasn't like he'd never jumped into the unknown before.
He leaned further toward the blonde.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy nearly squeaked.
"Testing," Harry muttered, and closed the distance between their lips.
He had meant for it to be a peck, not dissimilar to his failed attempt with Cho. But as soon as his lips touch Malfoys, his mind went straight back to his dreams with his body following close behind. Eagerness was apparently more important than experience as he discovered that a peck was not enough—would never be enough. He heard Malfoy whimper before the blonde took control and deepened the kiss.
Harry pushed his hands into the stone wall, using it to brace himself. Malfoy's hands came around and pulled Harry's hips to his own. That the blonde was as much affected by the kiss as Harry was did nothing to soothe his suddenly raging hormones. Seconds turned into minutes, and each seemed a lifetime. Oxygen was not necessary; could never even compete with this sudden, dizzying need. It was when his hips ground into Malfoy's almost desperately that Harry remembered they were standing right in front of the great hall; and early though it was, they would not be alone for long.
He reluctantly pulled away and stared at a gasping Malfoy. "Testing?" the blonde asked breathlessly, eyebrow raised.
"And what did you achieve?" he asked. His hands gripped the back of Harry's robes.
Harry bent his head and nuzzled into a pale neck. "That my favorite things are treacle tarts, broomsticks, and, apparently, you."
The chest below him spasmed in a startled laugh. "Broomsticks, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "That really should have been a giveaway."
Harry hummed in agreement. "If you start making jokes about straddling brooms, I'll hit you."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Reluctantly, Harry lifted himself from Malfoy and motioned toward the great hall. Revelations or no, he had come to appreciate breakfast. He entered the hall, Malfoy close behind, and chanced a look at the head table. He blinked when he spied Snape, who was looking far too smug for this early in the morning. The potions master raised a brow in his direction, but Harry just shook his head.
Snape was still a slimy git and Malfoy was still a Slytherin. He had no doubt that this had been some perverse plan hatched by the potions master and his favorite charge. He should have been mortified. Indignant. Irate. But all he could think about was how good Malfoy smelled, and how intoxicating his kiss was. He thought about his dreams and looked forward to the possibility of reliving them in reality. And with the surety that comes with discovering exactly who you are and what you want; Harry decided that in this case, the ends justified the means.
A/N: I do so love some Drarry action. Hope you liked it! Here are some loose translations:
Ostendo – to show (reveal)
Amor – love
So therefore Amorostendo is a potion that reveals to the drinker who they are in love with.