It was the second week of May when it finally happened.
They were stupid, really. Impatient. If these students were the best Lord Voldemort could gather, Harry wasn't worried at all about his chances of success.
That afternoon, Harry had decided it was long past time he go visit Hagrid. He hadn't been… avoiding his friend, exactly. He was really busy. And Hagrid hadn't exactly made any overtures to seek Harry out, either.
But it had been months since they'd had more than a brief hello at mealtimes, so after dinner Harry balled up his Gryffindor courage, kissed his boyfriend for luck, and headed down to the hut at the edge of the forest. He knocked on the door, and waited. As always, Fang barked excitedly at the prospect of visitors, and Harry smiled to himself as he heard Hagrid lightly chiding the dog, getting him away from the door. He pulled it open, and faltered. "Harry."
"Hi, Hagrid. Can I come in?" Harry's hands were in his robe pockets so that Hagrid wouldn't see them shaking. The half-giant blinked at him.
"Yeah. Yeah, o' course. I'll put the kettle on."
That was a good sign, and Harry's hummingbird heart slowed down a little. Fang nosed as his legs, slobbering all over his robes, demanding ear-scratches which Harry was more than willing to provide. He couldn't not smile when faced with the cheerful dog, who flopped his head in Harry's lap with a blissful look as soon as the Gryffindor sat down.
Hagrid fussed with the kettle and two mugs, one significantly larger than the other. With the large man's back to him, it was easier for Harry to make the first move. "I'm sorry, Hagrid."
Hagrid whirled around, beetle-like eyes incredulous. "What. You're sorry? Harry, you ain't got a jot to be sorry for!"
Wait, what?
Hagrid ran a hand through his tangled mane of hair, giving a gusty sigh. "Every time you came 'ere, you let me natter on about Dumbledore and how great a man he was, and that whole time you knew it was nothin'. I was so ruddy proud of having been the one to drop you off with Dumbledore after— after your parents died. If I'd've known…" He shook his head, scowling. "I'm the one who's sorry, Harry. You shoulda been able ter trust me, an' I gave you no reason to, blathering away with my blind faith like I was. I kept pushin' you towards the headmaster, and I never questioned why you might not want that — not even after you said you an' him was havin' some disagreements. You tried to warn me an' all! Idiot I was, I didn't listen." The kettle whistled, cutting off Hagrid's self-flagellation.
"It's not your fault, Hagrid!" Harry insisted while the huge man poured. "There was so much I couldn't tell you. And you've known Dumbledore for a long time, after all. He did a lot of good things for you. I… I didn't want to ruin your view of him, not if I didn't have to." He had known it would come eventually, but he wanted to soften the blow as much as he could.
"Aye, he did, but that don't mean much when he's out there trying to kill you!" Hagrid protested. "All that about you havin' evil in you is absolute codswallop, anyone who knows you can see that!" Hagrid passed Harry his teacup, and sat down opposite him, shoulders slumping. "I shoulda come talk to yer as soon as you got back to school, but — well, everythin' with Grawp, and then Aragog…"
"Is he still not well?" Harry asked, and Hagrid gave a great big sniff.
"He died, actually. Jus' last week. Buried him out by the forest," he said shakily, wiping at his watery eyes.
Though Harry felt nothing but mild satisfaction at the knowledge that the huge man-eating spider was dead, his heart clenched for his friend's grief. "Oh, Hagrid, I'm so sorry. You should've sent a note, I would've come. You shouldn't have been alone."
Hagrid smiled weakly. "Means a lot, Harry, but it's alright. Was only a small thing, really. Just for me own peace o' mind. Acromantula eat their dead, and… well." He made a face. "I— I thought about it. Writin' you. Didn't know if you'd wanna talk to me, is all. Worried you might think I was still Dumbledore's man."
"I never thought that," Harry insisted — which was a tiny lie, but Hagrid didn't need to know about the doubt in Harry's chest. "I figured you were mad at me for not telling you the truth."
The half-giant chuckled, shaking his head. "Right pair, aren't we?" he mused, reaching out to pat Harry's back with one of his massive hands. "I told you, Harry — I'm on your side. That's what friends are for."
Harry grinned up at him. "I'm glad, Hagrid. Really."
The first adult to ever give a damn about him still cared. That was more than he'd hoped for.
He stayed long enough to finish his tea at a leisurely pace, catching Hagrid up on the things he might have missed in the time they weren't really talking. As the hour grew later, the sky turning burnt orange, Harry decided to head back up to the castle. And that was when things went a bit pear-shaped.
He didn't quite wander about with his head in the clouds anymore, not after the first time — so he was vigilant when he heard muffled footsteps tracking him. He veered off course, heading closer towards the greenhouses. He knew where Neville planned to spend his evening, could feel the other heir's solid presence through the wards. Hogwarts was so much stronger now, with a headmistress who cared about it thriving.
Then a twig snapped and Harry moved, whirling around and cancelling any secrecy or camouflage charms in the area with a handy little spell Sirius had taught him a while ago. It revealed six students — the Slytherin seventh year girl who had spoken out about taking exams at the Ministry, a seventh year Slytherin boy Harry vaguely recognised; Crabbe and Goyle; and to his complete astonishment, Lisa Turpin and Fay Dunbar. His housemate had a shaking hand as she pointed her wand in Harry's direction.
"Come quietly, Potter," the older Slytherin boy snarled. "Or it's going to hurt."
Harry snorted despite himself. "That's really the best threat you have?" he taunted. "I faced Bellatrix Lestrange, you think you idiots scare me?"
The Slytherin girl smirked, like that was exactly what she wanted him to say. "Wiping that cocky look off your face is going to be very satisfying. Crucio!" She pointed her wand, but to Harry it was barely more than being hit with the old handshake buzzer Dudley used to have. He grinned — that would be a huge red alert to Neville, Hannah and Luna.
He hadn't seen the new wards in action, really; which is why he was pleasantly surprised when the girl suddenly froze in place, wand outstretched. She stared at Harry. "What did you do?" Her companions were eyeing Harry warily, and he laughed.
"I didn't do anything. The Hogwarts wards, on the other hand, really don't like nasty spells being cast at students." Thank Merlin the wards were at full strength, now.
Crabbe and Goyle didn't get the memo; they both tried to hit Harry with simultaneous Stunners, which he deflected into the grass, and they too were frozen in place.
"What the fuck! We cast Stunners in class all the time," Dunbar exclaimed.
"Wards are about intent," Harry replied mockingly. "You're not trying to actually harm anyone in class. Also, I'm an heir."
The seventh year boy let out a snarl. "There are ways around it," he muttered, and then he threw himself bodily at Harry.
Harry might not have had to run from Dudley for a long while now, but he still had the reflexes of a boy who had spent a lot of time dodging someone much larger than himself. He ducked under his outstretched arms, and the boy took a lumbering step to the side to try and grab Harry. "Turpin, Dunbar, get him while he's distracted!" he growled. "I don't care about the ruddy wards — it only takes one of us to drag him to the ward line!" He tried to throw a punch, but he was far too slow.
Neither of the girls seemed entirely keen to risk firing at Harry and missing, losing their only shot. It was only when there was a shout from near the greenhouses that Harry jerked his head up, and Dunbar took her chance. But Harry wasn't that much of an idiot; he deflected the tangle of ropes that flew from her wand, sending them right back at her. Not that he needed it, really, as the wards did their work.
Someone was running towards him, and the older boy got desperate; he charged right at Harry, fury on his face. A classic move of Dudley's, too. Harry used his own classic response — ducking aside at the last minute, and sticking his foot out to trip the large boy and send him sprawling. It was easy to catch him with a Stunner then, turning to face Turpin, the last Death Eater standing. She goggled at him.
"Why didn't the wards get you?" she screeched, making him grin.
"Self defence," he replied simply — then with one last Stunner, she was downed too, right as Neville and Professor Sprout came skidding to a halt at his side. Neville took in the scene quickly, then shot a grin Harry's way.
"New wards?" he presumed, and Harry nodded. "Nice. Bloody hell, is that Dunbar?"
"Yup." Harry turned to Professor Sprout. "Would you mind alerting the headmistress, please?"
The Herbology professor stared at him for a long moment, then turned, sending a Patronus off towards the castle.
"She's probably already on her way," Neville pointed out. "See, look; there she is." Indeed, she was marching across the lawn towards them. Harry had forgotten she held the wards now, too. It was quick work between Sprout and McGonagall to properly secure the six students, levitating them back to the castle. Neville fell into step beside Harry on the way up. "You alright, mate?"
"Fine." Harry grinned. "That was laughably easy, to be honest. Hadn't realised the wards would be so sensitive; they couldn't even cast Stunners with intent."
"Blimey," Neville said, awed. "I got worried when I registered the Cruciatus, thought they might all be using the same sort of stuff."
"They didn't want me dead. They wanted to take me to their master," he said, giving a disparaging look at the immobile group.
They were met by Luna and Hannah at the doors, as well as Daphne and Draco. "Oh, good, I thought you might have it handled when I felt the wards stop yelling at me," Hannah remarked. "What happened?"
"Kidnapping attempt," Harry replied cheerfully. Draco put his head in his hands.
"I swear to fucking Salazar, Potter, I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
"Not a scratch on me, promise," Harry assured, giving him a leering look. "I'll let you check, if you like."
"Mr Potter," McGonagall snapped, more exasperated than anything else. "I need you to come with me, to provide insight into what happened. Mr Malfoy is going to have to wait."
Harry mock-pouted, looking back at his boyfriend. "You heard the headmistress. Rain check on that, I'll catch you later." Then he stepped up to McGonagall's side, not a hint of his previous teasing on his face. "Let's go, Professor."
McGonagall was still using her original office for the time being, not wanting to intrude on what everyone still saw as Dumbledore's — and not having the time to go through the numerous things he left behind there in case any were sinister.
So Harry, the headmistress, and the six bound attackers all squeezed into the room, and McGonagall turned to Harry. "Explain."
Harry did so, beginning with the moment he noticed he was being followed, reporting everything right up until Sprout and Neville arrived. McGonagall's face got more severe with every word.
When he was done, she turned to her captives, adjusting her spells enough for them to talk but not move. "And what do you have to say for yourselves?"
"He's lying, Professor!" Dunbar exclaimed. "Potter attacked us out of nowhere! He used his weird Slytherin magic to stop us from fighting back! He's dangerous, and he needs to be expelled!"
McGonagall looked distinctly unimpressed, even as the other five backed up Dunbar's words.
"I can provide pensieve memories, if you like," Harry offered, but the headmistress shook her head.
"I am attuned to the wards as well, Potter — I can tell when students are in danger, and I can certainly tell when the Cruciatus curse is being cast on school grounds! Miss Wilkins, your wand, if you please?"
The Slytherin girl went milk-white. McGonagall snatched the girl's wand, holding it up in front of her. "Priori Incantatem." Smoke blossomed from the end of the wand, forming a tableau of Harry on his knees and screaming — her intention for the spell, if not the result.
"Potter stole my wand and cast it," Wilkins tried immediately, cowering against McGonagall's raised eyebrow.
"I highly doubt that." She set the girl's wand on her desk, surveying them sternly. "You six leave me no choice. For the attempted kidnapping of a fellow student, I hereby expel all of you from Hogwarts School, effective immediately."
Harry felt it, the moment the magic kicked in, the moment they became other to the wards. Not students, not staff. Intruders. They all flinched in unison.
"As such, I have the right to destroy your wands. The house elves will pack your bags, and you will return to your homes as soon as possible."
"You can't do that!" Turpin argued.
"Believe me, Miss Turpin, I can and I will. Be thankful there is no competent Ministry to speak of — Miss Dunbar is the only one of you under the age of seventeen. In an ordinary world, you'd be facing Azkaban for this."
Turpin turned a little green.
"Professor, please! I— I didn't mean to! They talked me into it, threatened my family!" Dunbar tried her best, but McGonagall was stone-faced.
"Then you should have come to me, Miss Dunbar, instead of deciding to be party to the kidnapping of your housemate," she snapped. "I do not have the luxury of giving you the benefit of the doubt — not with the safety of our other students at stake."
Harry was amazed by the woman's composure as she ignored all of their protests, snapping each wand one by one without a hint of hesitation. He could do nothing but watch, waiting for the house elves to bring their trunks — and then waiting for Professor Flitwick to come and escort them to the gates. Lisa Turpin took one look at her housemaster's disappointed face and flinched as if hit.
One by one they shuffled out of the office, until finally Harry was left alone with the headmistress. She shut the door with a wave of her hand, and stood with a steel-straight spine, staring at the worn wood. Harry didn't dare move, watching her carefully. Did she even remember he was there?
"Did I just make a mistake, Potter?" she asked suddenly. When she looked at him, she looked older than he had ever seen her look, even when she had returned from St Mungo's after taking four Stunners to the chest. The haunted gaze of the headmistress made Harry shudder.
"I— I don't think it's my place to say, Professor."
McGonagall's lips pursed, and then her whole body slumped, the fight leaving her in one sharp motion. She rounded her desk, sinking wearily into her chair, and the tartan biscuit tin floated over off the shelf. "Much as I hate to stereotype, the Slytherins… they were not a surprise. Miss Turpin and Miss Dunbar, however…"
"He gets in everywhere," Harry pointed out sadly, sitting in the chair opposite when the biscuit tin was offered, grabbing a chocolate-coated shortbread. "For what it's worth, I don't think he really threatened Dunbar's family. Her dad has been in hiding since November, and I know she knew he was safe."
McGonagall quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Harry's lips twitched. "I did assume as much; Miss Roper has come to me a few times this year out of concern for her friend, but there was little I could do — I'll admit, I thought it was just stress." She sighed, and Harry tried not to outwardly react when she summoned a bottle of whisky from a hidden corner of her shelf, pouring a generous finger. "It feels like sending them away from the school is doing them a disservice," she said, shaking her head. "I know exactly where they're going to go. Snapping their wands won't keep them out of things for long."
He pursed his lips — indeed, Voldemort would be furious with them for failing to kidnap him, but he would also appreciate six new recruits into his ranks outside the castle. "They couldn't stay here," he reasoned. "This is a school, not a stronghold. We don't have prison cells in the dungeons." His joke fell flat. "You had the rest of the students to think about."
McGonagall sipped at her whisky. "I have still condemned those students — those children to death, or a fate worse than it. I was supposed to protect them."
"You can't save everyone," Harry said grimly — that was something he knew all too well. "Everyone in this castle has been given a chance to do the right thing. Not all of them are going to take it."
The Scottish woman was silent for a long time, even after her glass was empty. "You should go and find Mr Malfoy, Potter," she said eventually. "He will be keen to make sure you are unharmed."
Harry coloured, amazed she could say that with a straight face after his exchange with Draco on the way up. "I… will you be alright, Professor?" He stood, but hovered in front of the desk. The smile McGonagall gave him was tight, strained, barely lasting a moment.
"I must go and explain to Professor Snape that Slytherin house is now four students smaller," she declared, standing as well.
That wasn't an answer, but then Harry shouldn't have expected much more. She was a professor, after all, and he just a student.
He just hoped she had someone to go to, to lean on after having made the difficult call.
.-.
The word had spread by dinner. Harry forced himself to sit through the meal, even as Sophie Roper cried into her lasagne ten feet down the table, even as half of Slytherin house glared daggers in his direction.
"What's it turned into, then?" he asked Lavender quietly, knowing there was no way the story had been reported accurately.
"Depends who you hear it from," she replied, frowning. "Anything from you exposing all six of them with Dark Marks, to you lying to McGonagall just to get them expelled after she caught you duelling them." Harry snorted. "I… was Fay really working with them?"
There were tears in her eyes. She had been Fay's dorm mate for nearly six years, after all.
"She was, yeah." Harry wished he could say for certain whether she'd been threatened into it. He wished it mattered — as he had told McGonagall, they had all had chances, and made choices.
He just hoped desperately that those six teenagers lived long enough to learn from their mistakes.
.-.-.-.
As it always does in Hogwarts, life moved on. Now, the only people willing to so much as talk to Harry were the original HA and his professors. Even those who showed up to the expanded HA sessions on Saturdays barely spoke to him, just staring wide-eyed and mutely obeying instructions. He didn't mind, really. His existing friend group was more than enough social interaction for him — with the end of the year drawing closer, there were plans to be made for after school let out.
The last quidditch match of the season was a nice break from it all, though. A return to normalcy. Privately, Harry hoped it might be enough to put a smile back on McGonagall's face, if Gryffindor won. She hadn't been the same since having to expel those students.
Harry surveyed his team over breakfast, quietly confident. "One hundred and eighty points, guys. Just keep the goals in our favour, and I'll do the rest." As long as they stayed at least three goals ahead of Ravenclaw, Harry catching the snitch would win it for them.
"We've got this, captain," Katie declared determinedly.
The shoe was on the other foot this time, with Draco looking mildly disgruntled to be wearing Harry's crimson quidditch hoodie. "Red is not my colour," he said in disdain, and Harry leered.
"I dunno," he murmured into the blond's ear, "seems to suit you well enough when you're in my bed."
The blond swallowed tightly, ears flushing.
"Come on, Harry. Quit flirting, time to go," Ginny urged, smirking at the pair of them. He gave a sigh, looked to Draco.
"You heard the lady. Time to go."
Draco gripped him by the front of his jumper, kissing him hard, ignoring the wolf-whistles. "Impress me, Potter," he challenged, cocking one pale brow, expression very similar to the one he had when he was in bed and daring Harry to fuck him harder. Heat pooled in Harry's gut, and he had to will away the stirrings of an erection that would be all too obvious in the tight uniform trousers.
"Yes, sir," Harry purred, giving him one last kiss before standing.
"Good luck, Harry," Neville said, offering a thumbs up. He still had a bit of Ginny's Gryffindor-red lipstick on his mouth, but Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell him that.
The lead up to the match was a rush of nerves, even as he gave a pep talk to his team that would rival even Oliver. The crowd roared when they strode onto the pitch, standing opposite the blue-clad team.
"Captains, shake hands!"
Harry stepped forward, grinning at Cho as she offered her hand to him. She had gone all out on the house pride; blue streaks in her hair, bronze war-paint on her cheeks. Even vivid blue nail polish with tiny black eagles painted on. "Don't start celebrating too soon, Harry," she told him, "Ravenclaw isn't going down without a fight."
"I'd expect nothing less," he replied.
And then they were off.
Harry swooped around the pitch, keeping an eye on the main play even as he began his hunt for the snitch. It was a bright, sunny day — great for the rest of the team, terrible for the seekers. At least his goggles stopped the glare getting too bad.
All he could do now was wait, and hope to hell Cho didn't spot the snitch early.
His girls were in fine form, scoring two goals right off the bat. Ravenclaw came back hard, though, and the quaffle careened past Vicky's outstretched arms straight through the right-most goal hoop.
"And Ravenclaw are on the scoreboard!" Zacharias Smith declared. "Gryffindor had better pick up the pace if they want to secure the cup!"
Ravenclaw only needed a win of 150 or more to beat Slytherin to the cup, so Cho would be playing the waiting game almost as much as he was. They circled each other, flying laps in opposite directions.
Another goal for Gryffindor, and Harry beamed at Demelza for it. The chasers were blue and red blurs across the pitch, ducking bludgers and passing frantically.
The goals kept stacking up, Ravenclaw determined not to let Gryffindor keep a three-goal lead for very long. But slowly, goal by goal, Gryffindor hit their breakaway.
100-60. Harry was free to look for the snitch, now.
Cho seemed to realise that, hovering close by Harry. He surveyed the sky, looking for that little flash of gold. Then he smirked to himself, and dove.
Cho followed immediately, hot on his tail — her speed wasn't a match for his Firebolt but she pushed on regardless, the pair of them heading closer and closer to the ground. He wondered how far he could get her to go, fearlessly plunging straight towards the grass.
She pulled up sharply five feet before the ground, and Harry sighed to himself, doing the same. "False alarm, folks! Potter was just feinting," Smith announced, to groans from the crowd.
"Almost had me worried, there!" Cho called lightly. He laughed.
"All's fair in love and quidditch!" And then he was off, zooming across the pitch, making a nuisance of himself for the Ravenclaw chasers on the way. The beaters didn't seem to know what to focus on most, and their split attention between Harry and the chasers gave Gryffindor a chance to score another goal. Unfortunately, Ravenclaw picked one up right after.
The snitch was being a tricky little thing, today. Dragging the game out far longer than Harry would have liked.
140-120. Harry caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, and cursed. He couldn't catch it yet. His only saving grace was, neither could Cho. A Slytherin win would almost be worse than a Gryffindor one in her eyes.
Still, just to be safe, Harry led her on a merry chase of death-defying loops and dodges, getting dangerously close to the stands in the Hufflepuff section. It was a good distraction for Ravenclaw's keeper, too, allowing Katie to put a goal through the centre hoop.
150-120. Showtime.
All through his madcap adventures around the pitch, Harry had kept an eye on that little glint of gold, and now he was off. He wasn't sure when Cho noticed the difference between him playing distraction and him going for the win, but she soon appeared at his side, leaning low on her broom, trying to catch up.
It was no use. Harry plucked the little golden ball out of the air, and the whole stadium exploded.
Apparently, while he'd been after the snitch, Katie had found the time to score one last goal in the chaos, making their lead an even more comfortable 310-120.
"And Potter does it again, folks! Gryffindor takes the game, and takes the cup! Honestly, one more of year of him and then maybe someone else can get a look in," Smith groused into his megaphone. Harry threw his head back and laughed, surprised when Cho barrelled into him for a mid-air hug.
"Damn good game, Harry. Thanks for sending me out with a fun one, even if I couldn't win," she said, beaming with tears streaking her eyes. He hugged her tight, then held out the snitch.
"A keepsake," he offered. "Your last match as a Hogwarts student."
"A snitch caught by Harry Potter. Wow." Then she grinned impishly. "Maybe it'll be worth something some day, I can sell it." She swiped it before he could rescind his offer, pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek, and flew off to join her team in commiserating, laughing as she went.
That was all the signal the Gryffindor team needed to pile on their captain, lowering to the ground in one huge red huddle. "I knew we could do it!" Katie sobbed. "One last cup! Fuck, I'm gonna miss this."
"Any time you want to get the team back together, I'm there," Harry vowed, pressing his forehead to hers in the middle of their team huddle. "Couldn't have done this without you, Kit-Kat." He used the nickname Oliver had given her, the one only the team ever used, and she sobbed even harder.
As was tradition, she and Cho flew their victory lap together to riotous applause, the two soon-to-be graduates saying one last goodbye to their school pitch.
While they were up there, Harry slung one arm around Ginny and the other around Vicky, beaming at Demelza, Ritchie and Jimmy. "So," he said, "same time next year, then?"
The two boys shared a look, then gave identical salutes. "Aye, Captain!"
Harry laughed, releasing the girls to go ruffle their hair. They were no Fred and George, but he was damn proud of them all the same, and they had a promising career with the team now they'd played a year together.
On his way off the pitch, the crowd still screaming, Harry looked up at the staff box, right at Professor McGonagall. There it was — that curl at the corner of lips, the glimmer of pride in her eyes. The thing that made all their hard hours of training worth it.
They didn't linger in the changing rooms, taking lightning-fast showers and having one last group hug while Katie cried her way through packing up her locker, all of them headed out with red and gold duffle bags full of quidditch gear over their shoulders.
There was an honour guard there to escort them up to their victory party, and in the sea of Gryffindor colours Harry didn't notice Draco until the blond sidled up beside him. "Pretty good catch," he said, knocking Harry's shoulder with his own. "Didn't think I could delay you in the changing rooms this time."
Harry wound his arm around Draco's waist, kissing the side of his head. "Not for this one," he agreed. "But you can come up to the victory party if you like." He had done as Rosmerta suggested and ordered drinks in advance, so he didn't even have to make a detour.
Draco looked at him, startled. "It won't cause problems?"
"Sweetheart, my house put up with me snogging you all over the place, pretty sure they'll be fine with you coming up to the common room," Harry teased. "Besides — I just won us the quidditch cup, they won't argue with me!"
Draco hummed, fingers playing over the bright gold C stitched on the shoulder of the hoodie he wore. Harry's hoodie. "Well, I suppose I've got nothing better to do," he drawled, as if it were such a hardship. Harry beamed, squeezing him.
"Such enthusiasm, I can hardly stand it," he said dryly. Draco shot him a look beneath hooded lashes.
"I'll show enthusiasm once the party dies down," he promised huskily.
Harry swallowed tightly. "Impressed you enough, then, did I?" he asked, lips brushing Draco's temple as they squeezed through the castle doors, surrounded by exuberant Gryffindors.
"You weren't bad, I suppose."
Gryffindor House certainly knew how to throw a party, that was for sure. Dobby had outdone himself setting up the snacks and drinks tables, and there was a huge banner of a roaring lion taking up the entirety of one wall. Music was playing from somewhere, and the team were greeted with a wave of sound as they walked through the portrait hole.
Harry lost hold of Draco as he was bundled on by his housemates, and a spark of panic shot through him — but then he made it clear of the sea of people, and saw Draco happily ensconced in a corner with Parvati and Lavender, butterbeer in hand as he surveyed the common room with interest.
"Bit different to yours, isn't it?" Harry said, striding over. A few feet away, Ginny pounced on Neville — and a few feet away from that, someone turned into a giant canary with red and gold feathers.
Harry wasn't sure who had put Wheezes in the food, but he appreciated them staying on theme. Maybe the twins had sent them over special.
"I'm amazed all this red doesn't give you headaches," Draco commented. The girls giggled.
"It's not as bad when we aren't all dressed to match," Lavender pointed out, gesturing to her red and gold t-shirt with a grin.
"I'll take your word for it."
Harry eased the bottle of butterbeer out of Draco's hand, taking a swig from it, and the blond scowled. "Get your own." He snatched it back, and Harry pouted.
"Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to get through that crowd and back?"
All that did was make Draco roll his eyes. "Are you a wizard or not?" A wave of his wand, and a bottle came sailing over the heads of the crowd, neatly into Harry's hand.
"Oh. Cheers, love!" Harry beamed, popped the cork, and tapped it against Draco's before taking a large gulp.
It was still strange, having a quidditch victory party without the twins and Angelina and Alicia. But his new team were equally deserving of praise, and he made sure to spend time with them — and to be the loudest cat-caller in the room when Colin Creevey dipped Vicky in a Hollywood-worthy kiss right in the middle of the room, Dennis lifting his brother's camera to capture the moment with a grin.
"God, they're adorable," Harry said happily, leaning back against the edge of the sofa behind him, pulling Draco to stand between his legs. The blond relaxed against him, at ease even in the lion's den with their friends gathered around them.
"What's he doing at a Gryffindor party?" The sneering voice cut through Harry's effervescent joy, bringing a sour curl to his stomach. Ron was nearby, having clearly just been to the snack table, and he glared at Draco.
"Celebrating, Weasley," Draco replied evenly. "My boyfriend caught the snitch, in case you missed it."
Those bubbles of joy returned to Harry's belly at the pride and possessiveness in Draco's voice.
"This is the Gryffindor common room. You shouldn't be in here," Ron argued.
"I can always take him up to the dorm, if you'd prefer?" Harry suggested, tone full of innuendo. A chorus of 'oooohhh's and whistling met his statement, while Ron blushed as red as the flag draped around his shoulders.
"Walk away, Ron," Dean suggested, appearing at his back. With a mildly apologetic look in Harry's direction, the dark-skinned Gryffindor tugged Ron back into the crowd, over to the other side of the room.
"I hope one of those biscuits he had stacked up has a prank in it," Ginny muttered, glaring after her brother. "Would serve him right."
"Ahh, don't worry about him," Harry dismissed, not wanting Ron to ruin his happy buzz. "Although…" he drawled, hand on Draco's stomach, pressing his hips forward just enough for the blond to feel it, "going up to the dorm isn't a bad shout, now that I think about it."
"You've had enough of being worshipped then, have you?" Draco asked. Harry bit his earlobe playfully.
"Not hardly," he murmured. "But I've a different kind of worship in mind."
"Oh for fuck's sake — you're still in public, boys," Ginny reminded pointedly.
"No, don't stop them," Parvati protested, flapping a hand in Ginny's direction. Harry laughed, cocking his head towards Neville. "You mind, Nev?" The only one of his dorm mates whose opinion Harry actually cared about. Neville rolled his eyes.
"Go on, then. I doubt the others'll be up any time soon, but just in case, please lock the door."
It would almost be worth the interruption to see the horror in Ron's eyes if he did catch them fucking in the dorm, but Harry decided that would be too much of a mood killer.
He slipped his hand into Draco's, wandlessly transfiguring his empty butterbeer bottle into a bright red rose. "Shall we?" he offered, holding the rose in Draco's direction. Draco snorted, reluctantly impressed.
"Fucking show off." But he took the rose and went willingly, following Harry through the crowd towards the staircase.
People noticed them leave. The cat-calls that followed them proved that, but Harry didn't care. Let the whole damn Tower know that he was going up to his room to celebrate with his boyfriend.
"It's strange, coming in through the door," Draco remarked, making Harry laugh. He had said door locked in an instant, though he didn't bother with the silencing charms. Everyone knew what they were doing; the perverts could listen if they really wanted. As loud as the common room was, the sound wouldn't carry.
He kicked off his trainers, gently pushing Draco until his back was against the wooden post at the corner of Harry's bed. Their lips met tenderly and the rose dropped to the floor, Harry's hands mussing the blond's hair, rucking up the hem of the Gryffindor hoodie, unsurprised to find a Slytherin-green t-shirt beneath. He pulled the hoodie over Draco's head, the bold shock of emerald even brighter in this room full of red and gold.
"What've I earned, then?" he asked softly, thumb stroking Draco's jaw. "What do I get for impressing you?"
"Mm, depends what you want," Draco returned, eyes bright and thumbs hooked into the back belt loops of Harry's jeans.
The Gryffindor frowned thoughtfully — for the first time, they weren't confined by the drapes of Harry's bed, and he wanted to make the most of it. He liked the way Draco looked leaned up against the post like this, remembered a hot flash of a dream in which he had the Slytherin bent over the end of the bed.
But then he turned, looking around the rest of the room, which was surprisingly tidy for once.
Looked at the centre of the round dormitory, the clear space in the middle of the room, with the enormous rug in the middle of it proudly bearing his house crest. Measured up the space in his head.
A wicked smirk crossed his face as lust coiled low in his belly. "So, I've got an idea…"
He stepped back, into the middle of the room, watching confusion turn to understanding and arousal in wide grey eyes as he went to his knees in the centre of the rug, beckoning Draco down with one hand and summoning the vial of lubricant with the other. Draco huffed a laugh, but didn't protest.
"I'm going to get carpet burn on my arse, aren't I?" he asked knowingly, even as he unbuttoned his trousers.
"I'll heal it," Harry promised with a grin, manhandling Draco onto his back right in the centre of the rug, pinning him to the floor with a hot, sloppy kiss.
Merlin, Harry was going to enjoy this even more than quidditch.