Wandering between the rows of shelves in the library, Harry looked around for a place to study without being gawped at or whispered about. He had a stack of books in his arms all about the process of animate conjuration, and a two-foot Transfiguration essay due in the morning.
Continuing to some of the rows further back, hoping they would be more deserted, Harry froze — sat in a darkened corner, completely alone, was Cassius Warrington. And he looked awful.
The seventh year's usually handsome face was pale and waxy, his brown hair hanging into his eyes like it was long overdue a cut. His robes hung loosely off his shoulders; he'd lost weight, this school year.
Carefully, Harry checked there was no one snooping around, then approached the Slytherin and put up a privacy ward to block them from view. Cassius jumped as the magic washed over him, looking up in alarm. "Oh. Potter. It's just you." His shoulders slumped again.
"Are you alright?"
A derisive snort escaped the Slytherin's lips. "Oh, I'm just fine," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Positively wonderful."
Harry sat down warily. "Cassius," he started, and the boy's aloof Slytherin mask cracked just a fraction.
"I have NEWTs in four months," he said, voice hollow. "And after that I will go home, to my family, where my older brother and my uncles and both my cousins are all waiting for me to join them in the ranks of the Dark Lord's loyal subjects." His face twisted in disgust. "I know they won't let me use the Ministry as an excuse to keep that foul Mark off my arm. Hell, three of them work there themselves, and it's not been a problem for them." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. "Somehow I have to pass these fucking exams knowing what's waiting for me when they're over. But even if I don't pass them I'll face the same fate, so what's the fucking point." He kicked the leg of the table, making it rattle.
"If I could kill him faster for you, I would," Harry remarked wryly. Cassius' eyes widened.
"I didn't— It isn't your fault, Harry," he insisted. "Even if the Dark Lord died tomorrow, that wouldn't stop my family being there. Being awful. Trying to trap me in their twisted net of dark magic." His lips quirked in a cold, bitter grin. "Best I can hope for is all of them getting sent to Azkaban when they fight in their Lord's army. Or killed. I'm not picky." The bravado faltered, and he sighed once more. "I just… the boys in my dorm are all legitimate supporters, and I can tell they're watching me. They know I used to hang out with all sorts last year. They know I was friendly with your lot. But they're always there and when they're not, Umbridge is, and I can't trust that no one's reading my letters so I can hardly talk to the one person who actually gives a shit, and my workload is getting worse and I just— I have nowhere to go, Harry," he said, voice cracking. "I'm almost eighteen and it still doesn't matter. I'm still stuck with them. If I want the chance to save the family name, if I want to have even a knut to my name when I graduate, I have to do what they say. Disinheriting me would be the kindest thing they'd do — I'd much more likely end up dead."
"What about Oliver?" Harry asked, and Cassius' whole body went stiff, his hazel eyes filling with fear for the briefest moment. Then he relaxed, turning sheepish.
"Did he tell you?" he asked knowingly, and Harry shook his head.
"I guessed."
A short laugh rang through their quiet corner. "What gave me away? Anything I need to worry about?"
Harry shook his head before the older boy could second-guess himself. "Only because I know you, and him. It was a bit suspect when you were both so friendly at the World Cup, and then how happy you were listening to the match commentary that one time… Plus a couple things the twins said, here and there." Because Fred and George absolutely knew about the relationship, and Harry wouldn't be even a little bit surprised if one or both of them had had a hand in it.
A long, slow breath whistled through Cassius' clenched jaw. "He asked me to marry him, at Christmas. When I graduate."
Harry's eyes widened. "Blimey. I, uh, hadn't realised you were that serious." He should have, though; Oliver Wood was a very committed individual, to whatever he decided to give his heart to, be it quidditch or a person. And they had been together quite a while, it seemed; longer than Harry and Draco.
Not that Harry had asked Draco to marry him or anything. He was way too young to do that.
"I still don't know what he sees in me," Cassius remarked. "But I love the crazy bastard. When I'm with him… I can forget what kind of man my uncle is making me become. With Ollie I feel like I actually might amount to something better." He shook his head, eyes filled with pain. "I want to marry him, more than anything. But I can't. If my family got word that I even spoke to Oliver, they'd kill him in front of me and then kill me too for good measure." There wasn't even a hint of exaggeration in his tone, and Harry believed every word.
"You have somewhere to go, Cassius," he said, but the Slytherin shook his head.
"I can't put Ollie in danger like that."
"I'm not talking about Ollie. I'm talking about me." That made Cassius pause, brows rising. "I've offered Theo sanctuary, and a few of the neutral families who have come to Blaise for help. I can offer it to you, too. And Oliver, if you're worried about him. He's still my Captain." Always would be, as far as Harry was concerned. Harry hadn't written to Oliver since the summer because of his worries about his mail being read, but he always told Charlie to send his regards, and kept up with what the keeper was doing that way.
"As if Oliver would go into hiding when there's quidditch to be played," said Cassius dryly, and Harry laughed. Fair point.
"For you, then. He can visit whenever. Your family never have to know about the connection between the two of you."
He could tell by the look on Cassius' face that the boy was considering the idea. "If I leave the family, they'll cut me from the tree. I'm not like Theo — he's the last of his line, for both Nott and Avery. They can't disinherit him or both those lines die out for good. The family magic might've rejected my brother, but I've got two cousins and an uncle who are still eligible. I can't risk the family seat going into their hands."
Harry bit his lip; that was all perfectly good reasoning. He knew he was lucky that Sirius hadn't been properly, magically disinherited by his parents. But he hated the idea of Cassius staying with them, "I won't force you to make any decisions," he said eventually, wishing there was more he could do. "But you'll always have a place of safety as long as I'm alive to offer it to you. If things get bad — if they force you into the Mark, or they find out about Ollie — you come straight to me alright? Don't risk your life just to keep that fucking Wizengamot seat. It's not worth it, yeah?" he finished passionately. Cassius looked up at him, and after a beat of silence, cracked a small but genuine smile.
"I've got too much Slytherin self-preservation instinct in me to let them kill me over a single vote," he remarked. Still, he looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Harry. It's… it's good to know I have options. And that Ollie has someone looking out for him." He shook his head in fond exasperation. "Damned fool would take a beater's bat to my whole family if I let him."
"Sounds about right," Harry agreed, amused. "I'll kill Voldemort as quickly as I can," he promised, ignoring the boy's flinch at the name. "I can't say how long it'll take, but know that I'm trying my best."
"Never doubted it for a second," Cassius assured.
"Good. So you just leave that to me, and keep yourself safe, and tell Oliver you'll marry him when you can." Harry grinned, heart aching fiercely. "Because that is a wedding I desperately want to attend."
Cassius grinned back. "It'll be fucking quidditch-themed if he has his way," he warned, and Harry laughed.
A wedding to look forward to at the end of all this was exactly what he needed. A quidditch-themed wedding sounded even better.
.-.-.
Somehow, between homework and lessons with Snape and the HA, Harry squeezed in enough time to write an article for the Quibbler. It was a lot harder than his last one; he was no journalist, to be sure, and this time he had to make sure he sounded as credible and sane as possible. It wasn't just about writing from the heart — he was writing to convince people to accept danger was coming.
When he had a solid draft, he took it to Luna, the pair of them holed up in an unused classroom to read it over. Luna was surprisingly good at editing; she helped her father with the articles when she was at home, apparently.
"This is very good, Harry," she said, smiling. "And your timing is perfect, too; if I get it to Daddy soon, he'll be able to get it out before he hears back from the entrants to his writing competition. He's asked people to send in their experience with Heliopaths, so he's bound to be very busy with that."
"That's… good," Harry said, unsure how else to respond. Hopefully Luna's father would not put his article in the same space as a story about some ridiculous conspiracy theory that might make him look like even more of a madman than the Prophet implied. "I'm really grateful you and your dad are willing to do this, Luna."
"People need to know," she replied sagely. "And as journalists, we have a duty to report the truth."
Harry wished the people at the Prophet could have even a scrap of the same journalistic integrity. "Well that's it, as best as I could manage it." He gestured to the parchment of his article. He had tried his best to report everything he thought might help; both the story of what happened to Cedric, and the dementor attack on Dudley. If the general public wasn't alarmed by the prospect of a seventeen year-old boy being kidnapped from school and murdered, perhaps they might be by the idea of a dementor roaming a perfectly ordinary muggle street. Harry had leaned a little heavy on the idea of the Statute of Secrecy being broken by the Ministry's careless response to Voldemort's return, and how catastrophic that could be for everyone.
"We'll try and have it out in the next issue. That's a week after Valentine's Day," Luna promised brightly.
"Perfect." Harry glanced at the blonde girl, eyebrows raised. "Any big plans for that Hogsmeade weekend?" For days already, the school had been aflutter with people discussing their plans for the auspicious day. Harry was torn between being glad he didn't have to get involved, and wishing he could take Draco to Hogsmeade like all the other lovestruck young couples.
"Oh, I'm going with Daphne," Luna replied, fiddling with her butterbeer cork necklace. Harry stared.
"…Daphne Greengrass?" Slytherin, no-emotions-unless-they're-contempt, Daphne Greengrass? Luna nodded, her smile growing wider.
"She's awfully pretty. I partnered with her a few times in the HA and she has a very nice smile. So I asked her to Hogsmeade."
Harry wasn't sure which side of that pairing was the more difficult to believe, but it absolutely was not his place to judge, so he just offered a smile that he hoped hid his utter bewilderment. "Well, have fun with that."
"Thank you, Harry. I'm sure we will."
That would certainly be an interesting combination.
.-.-.
Harry had to turn down quite a few invites to Hogsmeade himself, for the upcoming Valentine's Day weekend. From both male and female students.
"Don't know why they're bothering," he grumbled to himself after attempting to politely reject Romilda Vane for the fourth time. "They know I'm gay."
Harry heard a snort behind him, and turned. Ron was there, walking a few feet behind him with Dean and Seamus. They were all on their way to the Great Hall for dinner, and as they'd come from Herbology Harry had left Neville behind talking with Professor Sprout.
"Something to say?" he asked sharply, and the redhead scowled at him.
"Just wondering how long you're going to keep that up."
"Keep what up?" Harry was confused.
"The whole gay thing. We all know you're just faking," Ron spat.
"…I'm sorry, what?" Where the hell had he got that idea?
Far from being embarrassed, Ron continued. "Come on, don't pretend like we haven't all seen you. I heard you and Loony Lovegood were locked in a quiet classroom for hours the other day. And the way you've cosied yourself up to Lavender and Parvati in Divination, acting like you're just the gay best friend, like you're safe, when we can see them all over you. Susan Bones, too. Just how many girls have you got on the go, Potter?"
Harry stared incredulously, then looked at Dean and Seamus, who were pointedly not meeting his gaze. "You're not serious," he spluttered. They had onlookers, now; people on their way to dinner, wondering why the pair of them had stopped in the entrance hall. "It's called having friends, Ron."
"Friends you're always sneaking off in secret with?" Ron retorted.
"If you consider that suspect, I've got a lot of questions about you and Hermione," Harry shot back, seeing a few people go wide-eyed. Ron's face went as red as his hair.
"You shut up about Hermione," he sneered. "She seems to be the only bloody girl in this school that isn't obsessed with you. You've even got my sister under your thumb. You've got some nerve, parading it around in public like that, pretending to be queer so no one notices you're sleeping with any girl that'll have you."
"I'm not sleeping with any girls!" Harry argued. "And I'm not pretending to be anything."
Ron scoffed. "Like I believe that! We all know what Lavender's like, I really doubt you two are just friends when she's throwing herself at you in Divination."
Smack!
Harry hadn't noticed Lavender Brown appear, but there she was, her hand raised and a rapidly forming red mark on Ron's face. Her face was a picture of utter fury. "How dare you," she hissed.
"Lavender!" Ron was wide-eyed, in shock or fear Harry wasn't sure. "Well— well it's true! You've had half the rest of the Gryffindor boys, and we're supposed to believe there's nothing going on with you and Harry?"
Harry was quite impressed she didn't slap him again. "You're just jealous because of all the boys I've kissed, you're not one of them," she retorted. "And you never will be. After a comment like that, I'll be surprised if you ever get a date in this school, Ron Weasley!"
Indeed, of the girls in the audience, most of them were looking at Ron like he was dirt on the bottom of their shoe. His face reddened further.
"So he's fooled you, too, has he?" Ron taunted. "Haven't you realised he's always off with girls but never seen sneaking around with a boy? He's always turning them down, too. Never even holding hands with one."
"I have a boyfriend!" Harry blurted, and a chorus of gasps rang out. "Clearly I'm just better at keeping my private life private. It's none of your damn business who I'm with, Ron."
"Mr Potter!"
Harry's heart sank at the high-pitched call. Umbridge was approaching the hall, face severe. "Detention, for inappropriate behaviour. Tomorrow evening, my office." She looked around at the gathered students, who quickly dispersed, heading in to dinner. Ron was still glaring at Harry, even when the pink-clad teacher had left.
"Come on, Harry," Lavender huffed, linking her arm with his. "Let's go sit down."
Harry let her take him to the Gryffindor table, fury still pounding through his veins. It would be all over the school by morning, his mysterious boyfriend. Draco was going to kill him.
"I'm sorry he said that to you, Lavender," he sighed, and the girl shot him a sharp look.
"Don't you dare apologise for his slut-shaming bullshit," she snapped. "I swear, just because he's got his emotions so far up his arse he can't find enough of them to tell Hermione Granger how he feels, doesn't mean he needs to take it out on every girl who's so much as looked at a boy."
"Well, he'd better hope Hermione figures it out eventually, because I think you're right in saying he won't get a date otherwise," Harry muttered under his breath, looking further up the table, where Ron was sat alone. Even Dean and Seamus had distanced themselves, no doubt not wanting the Hogwarts girls to tar them with the same brush.
"Speaking of dates," Lavender purred, eyes lighting up. "Boyfriend?"
"Secret," he replied ruefully, and she gave an exaggerated pout.
"No fun."
Harry chuckled. "Sorry."
She left it at that, happily filling him in on the rest of the romantic gossip of Hogwarts. Harry could feel the eyes of the rest of the hall on him, and desperately wished they would all accept his secrets with as much grace as Lavender Brown.
.-.-.
Considering Harry thought he may end up hexing Ron Weasley into the hospital wing if he went to Gryffindor Tower after dinner, he instead went down to the Chamber of Secrets, happily ensconcing himself in front of Salazar's bookshelves. He'd narrowed it down to eight books that mentioned the word 'horcrux', and was now trying to focus enough to read in further detail, his brain tripping up on the archaic form of English. Salazar was blessedly silent, except to offer translations into Parseltongue when Harry was truly stuck on a word.
The first three didn't contain much; they described the process to make horcruxes, though only one of them actually gave the explicit spells and rituals. The rest just said that 'certain magics' were involved during the cold-blooded murder of an innocent, and the soul was split and placed in a vessel. It was interesting to confirm that the soul was halved each time, making what remained progressively weaker with every additional horcrux.
Clearly, that had not been in any of the books Voldemort had read on the subject, given he'd made at least three of them.
It was the fourth book that had Harry's jaw dropping, his pulse picking up excitedly. Typically, it was one of the most confusingly-written ones, and eventually Harry gave up and just held the book up to Salazar, asking for a translation.
"Should your horcrux be kept within a being of sentient life, there are dangers inherent to the natural lifespan of said host," the founder hissed. "It is recommended that horcruxes be held within inanimate objects, but where that is not preferred, it is possible to transfer the horcrux into a new living host, when the current host approaches their end. This must be done before the death of the host, as the death of one soul is the death of both."
Salazar stopped reading, and Harry went wide-eyed. "Does it say how?" he pressed. Salazar nodded.
"It does, but I will be honest, I do not expect you to understand it, lad." His tone was not designed to be disparaging, but it made Harry scowl all the same. He looked at the book, and at the utter gibberish on the page — both in the writing itself and in the form of the complex Arithmantic diagrams of some kind of ritual. Salazar had a point; even if the whole thing were in modern English, Harry likely wouldn't make heads nor tails of it.
But he knew who would.
"I need to show this book to my friend," he hissed. "He works for the goblins, as a curse-breaker. His team is trying to find a way to remove the horcrux from my scar."
"You may make a copy of it," Salazar assented. "The original texts will not leave this office, but I doubt any of them are still under Copyright Charms. Duplicate it, and take it to your friend."
Harry waved his wand, and sure enough the book duplicated easily. He quickly put the original back on the shelf, before he forgot which was which. "My friend is going to ask where I found this," he said cautiously. Salazar's expression soured.
"Now is not yet the time to reveal my presence to the world," he insisted.
"One person is not 'the world'," Harry retorted defensively. "Bill can keep a secret." He'd done well so far, keeping Harry's.
Salazar still didn't look impressed, but he let the argument slide.
Then Harry realised there was one more obstacle. His only way of getting the book out of Hogwarts quickly was Snape, and he would definitely want to know where it came from. And to see for himself what sort of obscure magics Harry was discovering. "How would you feel about me inviting the head of Slytherin House down here? He is helping with this research, and he would likely be more useful than I would."
He waited patiently for Salazar to consider the subject. "This is the man who plays triple agent? He is family to you?" he clarified, and Harry nodded. A flicker of a smile crossed the man's painted face. "He is a worthy Slytherin. You may bring him."
Relief filled Harry's veins. That would make his life easier; not in the least because it would ingratiate him to Snape even more than letting him harvest the basilisk had. Harry was going to introduce him to Salazar Slytherin himself, let him look through the founder's private library.
Snape was going to love him.
.-.-.
Valentine's Day arrived in a flurry of excited students — and an increase in detentions due to inappropriate behaviour. It seemed Umbridge considered almost any expression of positive human emotion inappropriate, for Harry had seen her take points from two people just stood close together. At least there were no headache-inducing decorations, as the colour pink had been ruined for everyone over the last six months.
Still, even Umbridge's wrath couldn't dampen the joy of celebrating the love-filled holiday with a Hogsmeade weekend, and as Harry went down to breakfast that morning he was surprised to see just how many couples were lined up to leave the castle, holding hands and grinning at each other.
He felt a pang in his chest, briefly wishing he could be one of those students; but even if there wasn't the danger of Lucius Malfoy involved, Harry wasn't sure he'd want to be gawped at all day as he knew he would for taking Draco Malfoy on a date.
One day.
Not wanting to pass up the excuse to get out of the castle, Harry lined up by himself, ignoring the number of eyes fixed firmly on him. Ever since his admission in the face of Ron's ridiculous accusation, half the school seemed dead set on sleuthing out who his mystery boyfriend was. There was even a betting pool going around, which Harry found utterly ridiculous.
Mainly because the top name on the list was George Weasley. As if there would be any reason to hide such a relationship; the Weasleys had made themselves targets for the Dark long before Harry was around.
The second name was Blaise Zabini, which was a little closer, but it still made him laugh that Draco's name was way down the bottom with astronomical odds. One person had put a bet on him.
Harry suspected that may have been Draco himself, but the blond would never tell.
Entering the village, Harry let a smile take over him as he watched the students go about their morning — it was so nice to see people so happy, so carefree. In all his training in various forms, his battle of wills against Umbridge, Harry sometimes forgot that things weren't all doom and gloom just yet. There was plenty of time for his fellow students to just be normal teenagers.
If Harry had his way, there always would be.
His smile widened at the sight of two heads of blonde hair, one much darker than the other; Luna and Daphne were strolling along the main street, holding hands while Luna gestured wildly with her free one, chattering away about some creature or another with earnestly wide eyes. Daphne looked fond, and a bit bewildered — like she couldn't quite understand how she'd ended up there, but she was very happy to be there all the same.
Harry still didn't understand that one.
He saw Ernie and Hannah head into Madam Puddifoot's, which was exactly the explosion of red and pink that Harry anticipated. Neither of them looked particularly impressed by the decoration, and as Harry walked by them he caught Hannah's eye, and she mimed gagging. He laughed, absolutely no help whatsoever; it wasn't his fault the students were limited to either Puddifoot's or the Three Broomsticks.
Honeydukes was absolutely heaving with students, all trying to buy sweets for their sweethearts. So Harry steered clear of it, deciding to head towards Zonko's instead. There, he saw his second unexpected couple of the day.
He didn't realise they were there together at first. The two boys were stood close, but just talking. Then George stepped forward, pressing a bold kiss to his companion's cheek and gesturing dramatically at the entrance to the shop. Blaise Zabini chuckled, but obligingly walked through, and as he passed George's hand slid down to the small of his back. The pair disappeared inside the shop, and Harry was left gaping at them.
When had that happened? And why had no one told him! The pair clearly weren't keeping it a secret.
He would have to have a long conversation with George Weasley, tomorrow.
He chuckled to himself; that couple would certainly upset the Harry Potter Dating Pool.
After a brief detour to Scrivenshaft's for some more parchment, Harry began to get peckish, and decided to brave the Three Broomsticks for lunch. He walked past a group of girls, who burst into giggles at the sight of him. His jaw clenched.
Maybe after that he'd go back to the castle. Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day was not the place for a single person, especially when that person was Harry Potter.
Luckily it seemed like the main lunch rush hadn't properly begun yet, people still out making the most of their dates — or feeling too awkward to come inside and sit opposite one another for an entire meal.
That didn't mean there weren't plenty of people inside — almost all the tables had been rearranged into little two-seater sections — but it was quiet enough that Harry could actually see all the way from the door to the back wall. His gaze travelled over the couples sat down, wondering if he might see any more unusual pairings.
At the back of the room, sat alone in a booth, was Neville.
Harry frowned, winding his way through the tables to sit down opposite his friend. Neville looked up, forcing a smile. "Oh. Hi, Harry. Didn't know you were around."
"Yeah, thought I'd have a wander. Are you alright?" He paused, wondering if his next question would be well-received. "I, uh — I thought you'd be with Ginny, to be honest." The pair had been growing ever closer since Christmas, and Harry had been almost certain this weekend would make them official.
Neville gave him a wry look. "Not today, no."
They were interrupted by Rosmerta, delivering a butterbeer for Neville, and the pair of them ordered lunch. Harry could feel eyes on them, but ignored them all; it wouldn't be the first time people had thought he was dating Neville.
When they were alone again, Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh… neither of you asked each other, or…?" He wondered, for a brief horrified moment, if Ginny was out there in the village on a date with some other boy. If she was… Harry would be having words with her.
"She asked me," Neville confirmed. Harry blinked — now he was even more confused.
"But, then…"
Neville sipped at his drink, and sighed. "Valentine's Day is… so much pressure. It's this big cliché of romance and grand gestures and all that, and I just… she had her time for herself, when she was dating Michael and everything. After that, after how that felt… I needed a bit of time for myself. I think we both need a bit of space to be alone for a bit, to be honest."
"That's understandable," Harry agreed softly. He wondered if Neville had admitted — either to Ginny or even to himself — how much watching her with Michael had hurt him.
"I'm not saying no forever," Neville assured. "I want to be with Ginny. But… I didn't think Valentine's Day was the easiest place to start from."
As if to accentuate his point, a girl across the room stood from the table, screamed a Stinging hex at her date, and stormed out. The boy stared after her, a huge welt forming across his cheek. Harry and Neville shared a look, wincing.
"No, I get it," Harry said, turning away from the drama. "You're sticking up for yourself." He gave the boy a small grin. "I'm proud of you, mate."
Neville blushed, ducking his head, and was saved having to respond by the arrival of their lunch.
Ginny needed to see that Neville wasn't just waiting around for her to be ready for him. He had to be ready, too. And she deserved to be the one waiting, for a change.
.-.-.
After lunch with Neville, Harry headed back up to the castle — he had tried to wander the village a bit more, but Neville had wanted to go to Dogweed and Deathcap, and Harry was not willing to sacrifice the two hours of his day that would inevitably take. And since being alone just made more people stare and giggle at him, he decided to take his leave.
He had his own plans to take care of, after all.
It was nearly three by the time he made it back to Gryffindor Tower, which was mostly full of younger year students; some studying, some just hanging out, and a few brave souls clearly trying to get what romance they could from within the confines of the castle. Seeing the pair of second years holding hands and playing cards in the corner made him grin to himself in reminiscence. If only he'd been brave enough to hold Draco's hand back in those early days.
Thinking of his boyfriend, Harry picked up his pace on the stairs up to his dormitory. He had a surprise to set up, and he wanted to shower and change before he had to start sneaking.
.-.
When Harry next left Gryffindor Tower, it was under his invisibility cloak. He didn't have to wait long for the portrait hole to open, and he hurried through before it could close on him, setting off towards the stairs. He knew where he could find Draco, because he'd told the blond to meet him in their usual spot.
Harry ducked through a little-used passageway behind a suit of armour, and froze. It was… occupied.
In front of him, shadowed in the dark stone corridor, were Susan and Theo. Quite happily snogging their hearts out, Theo's back pressed against the wall as Susan stood right up on her toes to kiss him.
Well, then. This day was just full of surprises.
Harry slowly backed out of the passageway, and left a weak Notice-Me-Not on the entrance just in case there was anyone else who might be trying to find a private spot.
For Susan not to have put up her own wards, she must have been quite… distracted.
He shook the image from his head, carrying on the long way down to the third floor. He could tease his Hufflepuff friend later; he had more important things to focus on, now.
Draco was waiting for him in the classroom, and startled when the door opened to Harry's invisible form. "Hi," Harry greeted, before the Slytherin could get nervous. "Follow me." And then he turned right back out of the classroom.
"How?" Draco retorted, hurrying to follow. "I can't bloody see you!"
"Oh, yeah." Harry doubled back, sliding an invisible hand around Draco's elbow. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" Draco whispered suspiciously. Harry just grinned, though his boyfriend couldn't see it.
They didn't have to go far; it was only around the corner. Harry brought them to a halt in front of an ordinary patch of wall, and hissed.
The wall melted into a doorway.
"What the," Draco muttered, but Harry yanked him through the opening, and once the wall reformed behind him he whipped off the cloak, green eyes dancing.
"Hello." He leaned in, kissing him quickly. "You look gorgeous." He did, in a pale blue jumper and charcoal grey trousers. Draco pulled him back in for a proper kiss.
"What are you up to, Potter?" he asked, raising one blond eyebrow. "Where are we?"
Harry kept grinning mischievously. "Let me know when you figure it out."
With Draco's hand in his, he headed down the passageway.
Most of the secret passages to the Chamber were still quite gross after centuries of disuse, but Harry had made sure to clean this one ahead of time. With a ball of light floating above their heads, it illuminate the stone walls — and the snakes engraved in them, at about waist height. He wondered how long it would take Draco to catch on.
"Where are we even… wait." Draco paused, clenching tight on Harry's hand. "How did you open that passage?"
A chuckle burst from Harry's lips, and he pulled his boyfriend to keep walking. "Oh, I think you know."
"Fucking— that can't be possible. Don't tell me…" Draco trailed off as they reached the end of the passageway, stepping out into the enormous chamber. "Holy hell," the blond breathed, his grey eyes as wide as dinner plates. He turned to Harry, speechless for a moment. "Are we— this is— how?"
So Harry told him, about how Ginny's offhand comment had made him decide to venture down and see what state the Chamber was in. "I had Snape come down and harvest the massive basilisk skeleton," he explained. "It was incredibly gross. I also had to do a serious amount of cleaning charms."
"I thought the entrance was in a bathroom?" Draco asked, looking up at the huge statue of Salazar.
"The one I originally found was. But when I got down here… there's an office, hidden behind the wall, that I discovered by accident. And before you ask, I can't take you in there. He's a bit… prickly." He'd only barely given permission for Snape, Harry wasn't going to risk ambushing him with Draco.
"He?" Draco repeated, gaze narrowing. "Who…no." His jaw dropped when Harry nodded.
"The only existing portrait of Salazar Slytherin," he confirmed. "He told me there's secret entrances hidden all over the school. It was originally supposed to be a safehold, in case the witch hunters stormed the school. Enough room to hide the students and staff, with entrances all over the place for safety." According to Salazar there was a Parseltongue spell that would open all the entrances at once, so people could run in from wherever they were in the castle, but Harry hadn't yet had the opportunity to try it.
It took Draco several long moments of gaping like a fish to compose himself. When he finally managed it, he whirled around to glare at Harry. "If your surprise is bringing me to this Chamber and then telling me there's a portrait of my house founder you won't let me meet, you're going to have to do some serious grovelling, Potter."
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "No. The surprise is over here; the Chamber is just the location. And I promise you, as soon as Salazar is willing to allow it, I'll take you to meet him." He just had to hope Snape wouldn't tell even his godson when Harry brought him down to the office.
Taking Draco's hand once more, he led him over to the foot of the statue. With a wave of his wand, the true surprise was revealed; a picnic for two, laid out on a green and silver blanket, complete with a bouquet of red roses in a vase. "Oh," Draco said softly.
"I wish we could go out for a proper dinner somewhere nice," Harry said, kissing his cheek. "But I thought this might be a good substitute. We'll certainly have privacy down here," he added, and grey eyes flared with heat, sending a shiver of electricity down Harry's spine. He would not admit that the privacy had been the biggest factor in planning his Valentine's surprise. They could stay down here as long as they liked, without having to worry about Umbridge or patrolling prefects or anything.
Showing Draco the Chamber of Secrets had just been a bonus. Harry knelt down on the blanket and began unpacking the basket, but stopped when a hand landed on his wrist. When he looked up at Draco, the blond was staring at him intently.
"I'm not all that hungry just yet," he drawled, kneeling down in front of Harry. "I think we'd best work up a proper appetite, first."
Harry swallowed thickly. "Fine by me." Suddenly, food was the last thing on his mind.
In moments, Draco had him on his back, pinned by his wrists to the blanket, their mouths pressed firmly together — as well as other parts of their bodies. Harry moaned softly, arching into the embrace. Then with a quick jerk of his hips, he flipped them over, straddling Draco's thighs. Draco gasped against him, and Harry smirked. "Y'know, something I've learned about the Chamber," he said conversationally, sitting back to start unbuttoning his own shirt. "It's got excellent acoustics." As soon as brown flesh was revealed, Draco's hands were on it, blunt nails scrabbling up Harry's chest. Harry leaned back down for another kiss, then looked Draco dead in the eye. "Bet it's going to sound amazing when I suck your cock so hard you scream my name."
Draco's pupils blew wide. "Holy fuck," he breathed. Harry grinned.
"That a yes?" Already, he was shifting down, working at the fly of Draco's trousers.
"Hell yes," Draco confirmed, lifting his hips to help Harry pull the trousers down. He wasn't wearing underwear, and it made Harry's throat go dry.
He started somewhat tentatively, licking at the flushed, sensitive skin. Even that little touch had Draco whining quietly. Slowly, Harry got a bit bolder; the taste wasn't bad, so he took a bit more in his mouth, careful to keep his teeth out of the whole affair. He was working only off what he'd read in the book — and one embarrassing but informative conversation with George, a few days ago.
Still, Draco certainly seemed to be enjoying it. A hand slid into Harry's hair, gripping tightly, and to his surprise it sent a hot bolt of arousal straight through him when Draco tugged a little too hard. He let out a muffled yelp, and Draco pulled his hand away. "Shit, sorry."
"No." Harry pulled off of his boyfriend's erection, lips swollen and spit-slick. "No. I liked it," he admitted, feeling his face flush. Draco's cock jumped.
"Fuck, you're a walking wet dream, Potter," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Harry pressed a kiss to his belly, trailing them down to the crease of his thigh, then resumed his ministrations. It did indeed sound amazing when Draco's moans echoed through the Chamber, the ragged gasps making Harry's arousal burn that much sweeter. Eventually it was too much, and he tugged on Harry's hair in warning, giving him enough time to pull off before he came, shouting Harry's name into the huge empty space. Harry was glad, not sure he was ready to swallow on his first try, flinching a little when the hot seed spurted up onto his chest. He fluttered gentle hands up Draco's sides, stroking him through the aftershocks, watching the blond lie there flushed and panting and utterly gorgeous. Utterly Harry's.
Draco pulled him down into a fierce kiss, not remotely bothered by where Harry's mouth had just been.
"Was that… okay?" Harry asked tentatively, suddenly unsure of himself. Draco cupped his jaw, meeting his gaze, and to Harry's relief he was smirking.
"Not sure if it's beginner's luck or natural talent, but it was certainly more than okay," he assured. "Sweet Merlin. I— that was— fuck." His incoherence made Harry grin, kissing him sweetly.
"Worked up enough of an appetite, then?" he asked cheekily. Draco chuckled, sitting up with Harry still straddling his lap, and cast a Cleaning charm on them both.
"I'd certainly say so," he assured, running his hands through Harry's hair in an attempt to tame it. "I'm sure I can think of something fun for dessert," he added, smirking wickedly. "Unless you don't want to wait?"
His fingers trailed down Harry's bare stomach, but the Gryffindor shook his head. He was hard, certainly, but there was no need to rush things. "I'm good, for now." The idea of letting his arousal simmer while they ate was… compelling.
Draco nodded, kissing him hotly, then unceremoniously shoved Harry off his lap so he could pull his trousers up. Harry snorted, and went back towards the picnic basket, wondering how overboard Dobby may have gone in packing it.
"Happy Valentine's Day, love," he said, holding out a bottle of butterbeer. Draco took it, clinking the neck against Harry's own.
"Happy Valentine's Day indeed," he murmured. "I'm gonna have to get very creative if I want to top this next year." A competitive light entered his grey eyes. Harry snorted, lifting out a couple of covered plates.
"No need to go overboard," he assured, then winked. "You know me, I'm easy."
"Only for me," Draco purred, ghosting fingers across Harry's denim-clad backside while he kneeled up to reach into the depths of the basket. "Merlin, I can't believe you brought me to the Chamber of Secrets. I'd be the envy of every Slytherin in the world if they knew."
"Glad you approve," Harry replied, making himself comfortable on the blanket the best he could with his jeans still tight in the groin area. With his back against the base of the statue, he stretched out his legs and let his plate float in front of him, well aware that Draco's lust-filled gaze was trailing up his body. Harry still hadn't put his shirt back on. "I thought about taking you to the Room of Requirement — actual furniture in there, y'know — but I didn't want to risk being interrupted. And I thought this might impress you a bit more."
"Consider me impressed," Draco responded, not even looking at the Chamber, eyes fixed firmly on Harry's crotch. Harry smirked. "Do you have to be back in your tower by any particular time?" Draco attempted a casual tone, but missed the mark thanks to the strain in his voice.
"Not really. Before the others wake up," Harry shrugged. That, too, was one of the reasons he'd picked the Chamber — even if the whole castle were looking for him, they'd never be found down here.
He had Draco to himself for the whole night, as long as they were both back in their dorms before sunrise.
He certainly planned to make the most of it.