Chapter 10
In Which We Learn That While Honesty Is the Best Policy,
a Little Pretense Never Hurts

Draco's door was slightly ajar when Harry reached it, much to his surprise. He heard voices drifting out, low and high, and had a sudden, painful flash of Draco, alone in his room, with that fifth-year Ravenclaw bint. He suppressed the sudden urge to curse her into next week, and instead knocked loudly on the door, saying, "Draco? Are you in here?"

"Come in, Pot - er, Harry," he called out, and Harry opened the door on the last scene he ever thought he'd see. Draco was perched on the bed, with Hermione leaning near him, holding a book, and Ron sitting in the single chair looking as out of place as possible. "Sorry I didn't stick around earlier, but as you can see, I've got guests."

Something in his voice told Harry that there was more going on than meets the eye. "I can see that. Er, why?" he asked, looking from Ron to Hermione, avoiding Draco's eyes in a vain attempt to keep from blushing.

Ron snorted derisively, playing with the edge of his robes. "Don't ask me, Hermione's the one insisted we talk to Draco." He looked up, and his eyes went wide as saucers. "Harry, what the bloody hell are you wearing?"

Harry looked down at himself, and the outfit finally registered. There had been no underwear, which he thought was an oversight until he'd put on the black leather pants and found they laced down both sides, leaving several inches of flesh visible from low-slung waistband to where they disappeared into the calf-high boots. He'd been so distracted he hadn't even cared, just used the fitting spell to tighten the laces and moved on.

The top was one of those fluffy renaissance things, with sleeves gathered at his upper arm, just below the elbow, and wrist. It was made of green silk, edged with silver, and hung down low enough to cover the green lacings over the crotch of the pants, which was about all he'd cared about at the time. It left a swath of his chest bare, and kept falling off of one shoulder when he moved around too much.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Ask Draco," he said finally, waving his arm in the general direction of the bed.

"You look like a rock star," said Hermione wonderingly, and Harry's cheeks pinked further.

"Yes, Harry, the colours quite suit you," drawled Draco, and Harry turned to see him smirking, his face fallen into the old familiar mask.

"Well, I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time I'm trying to dress up like a rent boy," he said, snarling slightly. He had a sudden vision of startled faces as he'd hurried through the halls, and a vague memory of someone whistling.

Hermione tore her eyes away and brandished the book instead. "Look, Harry, I found out a bit more about the potion. The hearts keep it in your blood for three days, like I said, but the unicorn's tears," she stammered slightly, blushing, "um, they've got an extra sort of, er, potency if the drinker is, er, pure."

Harry blinked, confused. "What?"

"She means, we're not out of the woods yet, because you won't go and just bloody get shagged," said Draco loftily.

Harry glared. "Well, not much chance of that, is there?"

"All right," said Ron, levering himself up out of the chair. "Harry, I'll bring you some real clothes while you three talk this out." He glanced over at Draco and gave a slight shudder. "There's only so much talk of shagging and Malfoy I can take."

Harry thought he might hug Ron. Instead he just grinned and said, "Yeah, thanks, please."

Ron left quickly, shutting the door behind him. Harry turned to Hermione and Draco. "Just how long does this other effect last?"

"I haven't quite figured that part out yet, which is why I came by to warn you. I figured you were planning on telling Draco that the compulsion from the potion was gone, and I just... wanted to warn you. Because I think there's something in here about losing one's purity to the object of the spell, but I can't quite figure it out. I'm going to have to ask Snape."

Harry choked slightly, eyes bugging out. "Please don't tell Snape you're worried I'll shag Draco!" He didn't quite yell, but it was a close thing.

"Well, how was I to know that, the way you two have been carrying on? Honestly, Harry, reading out on the lawn with his head in your lap?" She gathered her things up and brushed past him, reaching for the door. "I'll leave you two to do whatever non-shagging activity you had planned, alone in Draco's private bedroom dressed like that, and let you know when I find anything else."

She stalked out, taking exaggerated care not to slam the door behind her. Harry turned back around to find Draco lounging on the bed, expression unreadable. He was wearing a pair of white pants remarkably similar to Harry's, except the sides were held together with straps and silver buckles. He was wearing a white shirt, again much like Harry's, only edged with gold. Harry had the sudden urge to lick his chest, and he shivered. "I... I'm sorry about..."

Draco waved his hand negligently. "Apology accepted," he said with a snicker. "Speaking of which, I thought you said you didn't..." Draco made the gesture with which Harry was now becoming intimately familiar, and he had to close his eyes against the image of Draco doing that particular activity with Harry's name on his lips.

Harry blushed deeply, and then said, "Well, I've been, er, recently inspired."

"Oh, really." Draco was grinning at him, eyes twinkling. "That was some pretty serious inspiration you had going, from what little I could see through the bubbles."

Harry blushed deeper. "Look, could we never, ever talk about this again? If you're not angry with me, I'd prefer to let it vanish into the list of horribly embarrassing things I've done in my youth as quickly as possible."

Draco laughed. "How about I only tease you where no one else can hear?"

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night.

---

Ron had returned with some of Harry's newly-resized clothing just in time for the three of them to go down to dinner. He'd blushed bright red when Harry had casually stripped off the shirt and tossed it on Draco's bed, revealing the green-laced codpiece and extremely low cut of the pants. Draco, of course, had whistled from his vantage point, and offered to put a Galleon in Harry's shorts. Harry had glared and finished changing as quickly as possible.

He would never, ever admit to anyone, especially not Draco, that he'd kind of enjoyed the feeling of the leather hugging his legs and other body parts, that he'd felt sexy and desirable with the peek-a-boo lacing down the sides. Back in his own grey sweatshirt and worn jeans, he felt more like an awkward little boy than a rock star. "Why do you even own these clothes?" Ron had asked Draco, back to where Harry was working the front laces free.

"Just because you Gryffindors have no social life doesn't mean I don't," said Draco haughtily, snatching up the clothes and putting them away. "I'll have to resize them now, Harry, why'd you have to be so short?"

Harry had grinned at him, sliding the sweatshirt on and slipping into his worn shoes. "Better than being a beanpole like you."

"Hey, I resemble that remark!" said Ron, who was an inch taller than Draco.

Harry snickered, then left. "I'll have to see if the house elves can clean my other stuff," he said despondently. The shoes were last year's, and falling apart.

"Harry, why don't we go shopping on Saturday?" said Draco suddenly. "I mean, it's the last Hogsmeade weekend, and the ancients know you need new clothes. Your parents left you a pile, let's spend some of it!"

"Er, sure." He blushed, remembering. "But, er... the other Gryffindors, they made me promise..."

Draco looked confused. "What?"

Ron snickered. "He's got to wear that getup you put him in, with the white pants."

Draco and Ron both erupted into gales of laughter at Harry's glower. Harry glared further, which served only to spur them to greater hysteria. They were practically leaning on one another when they entered the Great Hall, and once again became the centre of attention. Harry split off from them, still grouching, and Ron followed quickly, although not after delivering a hearty slap to Draco's back.

Ron and Draco together seemed to confuse everyone even more than Harry and Draco had. Harry smiled grimly as he thought of the rumours that would go around now. "They're all going to think you stole my boyfriend," Harry whispered to Ron, waiting until he had a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

He smiled in grim revenge as he handed his choking friend a napkin.

---

The rest of the week went by quickly, and much the same. He, Ron, Hermione and Draco even did some studying together, and he caught Ron and Draco acting like they were actually friends more than once. Hermione made little progress on the potion, having been asked to research something much more pressing for Dumbledore. Quidditch practice was both a pleasure and a torment, as he worried about next week's match. He wasn't looking forward to playing against Slytherin anymore.

He wasn't getting a lot of sleep, but he felt it was worth it to spend the long evenings side by side on the bed, with Draco tutoring Harry in Potions, or Harry helping Draco out with Herbology. His invisibility cloak was now constantly stored in the bottom of his school bag. They spent their afternoons outside in their spot, or in the library when it was raining on Tuesday, joined by Harry's friends twice, and even Crabbe and Goyle once.

The house elves had managed to get the pollen gunk out of everything, even the shoes, and Harry had thanked them profusely when he found the neat bundle at the foot of his bed. Even his Herbology notes had survived. When Draco and Harry showed up together for Double Potions on Friday, Snape had glowered warningly and taken points from Gryffindor when Harry sneezed. Twice.

Snape had been even more annoyed when Harry not only got the potion right this time, but answered every single question put to him correctly. "Finally learning to pay attention after all these years, Potter," had been his only remark.

When they left potions that day, Harry was been in an unconscionably good mood. Snape had only taken ten points total from him, and had been thoroughly disgruntled at not being able to find any reason to take more. "What should we do now?" he asked Draco, grinning happily.

"I don't have practice and neither do you," said Draco, pondering. "I don't think I could bear another round of studying."

"Tonight's when we decided the three of us are going to sit with you at dinner," added Harry thoughtfully. "So we can't skip that." They'd all agreed that the Slytherins needed the ego boost of Harry coming to them much more than the Gryffindors did. Even Harry was starting to see that, of all the houses, Slytherin was suffering the most from the war.

"I can't take you to the Slytherin common room," said Draco, and Harry nodded his agreement. There had been some rather murderous talk about the Gryffindors trying to steal their leader away from them.

"We could visit Hagrid?" said Harry doubtfully. He'd seen the way Draco reacted to the half-giant, and hadn't been at all sure that that was a fence he could mend.

"Visit Hagrid?" said Draco, a bit panicky sounding. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"He's my friend?" said Harry, starting to grin. "Come on," he said, grabbing Draco's elbow and dragging him towards the doors. "You'll love him once you get to know him."

Or at least, thought Harry privately, it'd be great fun to watch.

He'd somehow ended up with his fingers laced through Draco's as he dragged the reluctant Slytherin towards Hagrid's hut. Smoke was rising gently from the chimney, so Harry figured he was probably in, and he held Draco's hand tightly as he knocked on the door. Hagrid raised one bushy eyebrow at their clasped hands, then said, "Harry! Good ter see yeh. Come in, come in."

Harry dragged Draco over the threshold and into the warm, dim interior. "Jus' doin' a bit o' whittlin', don' mind the mess," said Hagrid, motioning them to take seats at the table, which was covered in wood shavings and odd little objects. "Tea?"

"Sure," said Harry.

"Eh, sure," said Draco, after Harry nudged him gently.

"So, er, yer two bin getting' along, then?" asked Hagrid, eyes flickering down to where Harry's hand still held Draco's in a death grip. He turned, suddenly uncomfortable, and busied himself making the tea.

"We finally realized we had more in common than we thought," Harry replied, sitting. He loosened his grip but was reluctant to let go entirely, and he smiled when Draco seemed content to just hold hands under the table.

"Don' git a lot o' yer, eh, special friends at Hogwarts," said Hagrid, prodding the fire impatiently.

This time it was Draco who answered, "Well, not to deny that I'm a ponce or anything, but we're not quite there yet. He's just holding onto me so I don't bolt."

Harry snickered, and squeezed Draco's hand. "We're just friends, Hagrid. Draco was a little worried about coming to see you. Seeing as he's been a right bastard to you and all."

Hagrid snorted, then turned back, kettle in hand. "Water under th'bridge, I s'pose, Malfoy. Can't go holdin' grudges with a war on."

A look of shock fluttered over Draco's features, followed by a number of other things and ending on a very surprised smile. "I'm not sure I deserve it, but thank you."

"Bah," said Hagrid, pouring water into the teapot. "I've seen th'way ye are wit' yer classmates, Malfoy. I t'ought you were a bad'un once, but I've seen yer bein' good when yer thought none of us was lookin'."

Draco didn't seem to know what to say to that, instead turning a delicate shade of pink. "Exactly," said Harry for him, watching amusedly as the pink climbed all the way to the tips of his ears.

Everything went smoothly after that, discussion ranging through the little wooden totems he was making for the garden gnomes, Harry's grades and the upcoming Quidditch match. They spent a congenial hour talking about nothing important at all, carefully avoiding any talk of Voldemort or the war. Draco even shook Hagrid's hand as they left for their momentous dinner, after warning Hagrid of their plan for Gryffindors to eat dinner with Slytherins. In public!

---

As usual, all eyes were on them when they entered the Great Hall, Harry and Draco in front, and Ron and Hermione trailing behind, looking a bit apprehensive. A quick glance showed that Crabbe and Goyle had done their part, and there were four empty chairs between them at the Slytherin table instead of the usual one. They didn't even pause, just turning as a group and heading together to the waiting seats. The roar of whispers was practically deafening as they sat, Ron next to Goyle, then Harry, Draco, Hermione and Crabbe on the other end.

Across from them were the rather startled faces of Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and all the rest of the Slytherin seventh years. Draco ignored it all, his arrogant mask firmly in place as he began filling his plate with food from the table. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their cues from him, acting as though every single person in the Hall was not, in fact, staring at them in some combination of shock, disbelief and horror. "The chicken is quite good tonight, don't you think, Potter?"

"Yes, and I think the potatoes really complement it, Malfoy," said Harry. They'd planned this somewhat, agreeing to keep their conversation to safe topics like food, weather and homework.

"Did you finish that essay for Transfigurations?" asked Hermione, nibbling nervously on a roll.

"I've got about two inches to go," said Harry, which seemed to make both Draco and, oddly enough, Blaise, briefly choke on their food.

"I've barely started it," said Ron gloomily. "Harry, you'll help me out, right?"

"I-I could help you, Ron," said one of the Slytherin girls shyly. It was Eloise Midgen, whose acne seemed to be finally clearing up, and Harry was amused to see Ron go rather pink around the edges.

"Er, sure. I mean, er... yeah. Tonight after dinner?" Ron stuttered.

Eloise smiled. "All right. Meet me in the library?"

"Er, yeah." Ron immediately went back to his food, trying very unsuccessfully to hide his blushes behind his potatoes.

"Way to go," whispered Harry, and Ron's ears went a shade darker.

"How about that Potions project?" asked Blaise, eyeing not Hermione, but Harry. "I'm almost done with mine, how are you doing, Harry?"

Harry flicked his eyes from Draco to Blaise, confused by the sudden hardness in Draco's features. "Er, I... Draco's been helping me, we're supposed to finish up tonight, I think."

Blaise raised one sculpted eyebrow and said, "Oh, really?"

"We couldn't have the boy hero of the wizarding world go and poison himself again by accident, now could we," said Draco dismissively. There was something tight in the line of his shoulders, a tension that made Harry ache for the simplicity of just the two of them. But this wasn't just about them.

"Yeah, everyone knows I'm crap at Potions, 'cos I don't pay attention," said Harry, and the Slytherins around him now ranged from shocked to intrigued. "Draco's been helping me study for my NEWTs."

"How... magnanimous of you, Draco," said Blaise. There was an odd edge to his voice that was making Harry's hackles rise. "So those were study picnics on the lawn, then?"

Draco kicked him in the ankle before he could reply, so he kept his mouth shut as Draco drawled, "You didn't expect me to bring him to the Slytherin common room, did you?"

"You seemed awfully cosy for studying, if you ask me," mumbled Blaise, somewhat bitterly.

"I wasn't aware my studying habits were under your supervision," said Draco, as coldly as he'd ever spoken, even to Harry.

"Just give it up, Blaise. We all know he's only had eyes for the Boy Who Lived ever since first year," said Pansy, equally bitter and cold.

Harry blinked, then continued eating, unwilling to risk even considering a comeback to that. Evidently Draco also felt it best not to dignify it with a response, instead taking a swig of juice and turning to Hermione to discuss alternatives to expensive or rare ingredients in potions that would be useful for the war. Which turned talk all around them to the war, and oddly enough no one at all seemed to think that they'd be happy about the outcome.

"Er, none of you are, y'know, itching to join with the dark forces and all that?" said Ron finally, after Goyle and Blaise had brought up their plans for not being kidnapped.

Everyone turned to Ron like he'd just grown a second head. Finally it was Eloise who spoke. "Why would we want to serve someone who'll nail you to a gate if you don't toe the line?"

"Not to mention the rest," added Blaise with an oddly delicate shudder. "We heard what was done to those boys."

A much less delicate shudder ran through Draco, and Harry spared a quick glance to see his eyes had an unpleasantly glassy look. Harry slid his foot over until it contacted Draco's, then scooted until as much of their legs were touching as possible. "That's not exactly good dinner conversation," said Harry. "You're making Ron lose his appetite."

Everyone laughed when Ron looked up at his name from where he'd been shovelling food into his mouth, oblivious. The conversation moved on to safer topics, mostly NEWTs this time, and everyone's worries about them. "I don't even know why we're taking them, if we're just going to be fodder for You-Know-Who," said Pansy under her breath, but thankfully no one paid her any mind.

Harry finished up as quickly as possible after that, intent on getting Draco somewhere private. He might not be ready to admit he knew Draco's big secret, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from acting like a real friend when that was so obviously what Draco really needed. "Let's get out of here," he murmured, giving Draco's sleeve a tug.

Draco blinked once, twice, then looked down at his cooling food with distaste. "Yes, let's," he whispered, then raised his voice. "I think it's time to go finish up with Transfigurations, don't you Potter?"

Harry couldn't resist getting in a little jab at Blaise, so as he rose he said blandly, "I'm all yours, Malfoy."

Ron and Hermione joined them out in the foyer a minute later. Hermione was shaking her head, grinning. "Oh, Harry, you're mean! Poor Blaise just about had a fit when you said that."

"You've just got all the boys after you, don't you, Malfoy," said Ron, sniggering.

"You two can just stop," said Draco mildly. Just getting him out of everyone's scrutiny seemed to have been enough to revive him.

"So, what now?" Harry asked the group in general, before they could start up teasing Draco in earnest.

"Well, obviously, I will actually be doing my Transfigurations homework," said Ron, with a strange mix of ruefulness and enthusiasm.

"I've got to finish researching those ingredients for Dumbledore, and I'd like to look into that potion you made as well, finally," put in Hermione briskly. She snagged Ron and the two of them went off towards Gryffindor Tower, presumably to get their books.

"Well, then, Draco, I guess I am all yours," said Harry, grinning. "Unless, of course, you'd like some alone time with Blaise."

Draco gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Let's go snag some dessert from the house elves. I need chocolate to fortify me!"

"You always need chocolate, Draco," said Harry grinning. "Let me go grab some things from the Tower and I'll meet you in your room, all right?"

"Sure," said Draco. He paused, looking like he might say something else, and Harry was struck with a strong urge to run soft fingers down his cheek. He'd even raised his hand partway before he realized it, so instead he took a quick glance around, then gave Draco's fingers a quick squeeze. "Don't worry," he said quietly, "It's me that Dobby's got a crush on, remember?"

Draco's laughter followed him out of the room.