Despite his wish for a restful weekend, Harry naturally woke at the usual time on Saturday morning. While it was tempting to roll over and go back to sleep, he didn't want to risk oversleeping and being groggy the rest of the day.
He promised himself an afternoon nap, and dressed quietly so as not to disturb his still-sleeping dorm-mates. Grabbing his writing supplies, he headed down to the common room. It was nice, being around while everything was still quiet and calm. The first week back had been so hectic, he'd almost forgotten what a peaceful Hogwarts felt like.
He settled himself in his favourite armchair by the fire, set out his parchment and ink, and began to write.
Dear Bill and Charlie,
Hope you don't mind me writing to both of you together. Just thought I'd check in, see how things are going back where you are. Hope all is well at Gringotts/the dragon reserve!
OWL year has started off with a ridiculous amount of homework, and I hate you both for insisting it wouldn't be that bad. Of course, it would have been more manageable if the new DADA professor (Umbridge, if you haven't heard already) didn't put me in detention til midnight every night this week. It's a new record for me, getting so many detentions this early in the term! All I did was question the logic in the Ministry refusing to let us use spells in DADA class, when we'll need them to pass exams. I'm innocent, I tell you!
Anyway, I'm all done with that, so hopefully it'll be a while before she finds a reason to give me more. She will find one eventually, though — as I'm sure you're aware, the Ministry isn't thrilled that I'm warning everyone about Voldemort, because it means people might actually expect them to do something about it, instead of just pretending it's all fine.
If either of you have any tips for surviving the homework situation, I'm all ears. All the rest of my extra-curriculars are going fine — we have a new keeper, so quidditch practice starts back up today — but I'm still busier than I expected to be. It's going to be a long year!
Give everyone my love,
Harry
That was vague enough that it wouldn't look suspicious, should someone like Mrs Weasley accidentally come across it. Not that he didn't trust the older Weasley boys, but he knew how nosy certain people in the Order could be.
His next letter took a little longer to compose, though it was shorter.
Dear Fleur,
How's the internship going? More importantly, how was your date with Bill the other week? He didn't tell me anything in the summer, just that you'd agreed to go out with him. I need details!
Being back at school is keeping me busy; I'm sure you remember what fifth year is like. I'm glad the tournament was last year — if I'd had to deal with that on top of OWL preparation, I would have exploded! I have no idea how you and Viktor both managed to do the tournament on top of your NEWTs.
I know you're hoping for juicy Hogwarts gossip, but either it's too early in the year or I am out of the loop, because other than the eternal debate over whether I'm a lunatic or not thanks to the Prophet, nothing really interesting is going on. Our new DADA teacher is awful, but that's nothing new. At least this one is actually who she says she is.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Harry
He still wasn't quite as secure in his friendship with the French witch, and writing to her felt awkward at times. Things had been much easier when she was at Hogwarts and he could socialise with her as part of the group — they didn't actually know each other that well, even now, but the tournament was the kind of experience that bonded people in a way that was different to friendship. Especially with the way it ended. Besides, as she was now Bill's girlfriend, Harry was keen to keep up correspondence.
Finally, he wrote his last letter of the bunch.
Dear Viktor,
How are you doing? Your season has started up now, right? What's it like being on a league team as well as the national one? I bet you're really busy with training!
I've got my first house quidditch practice of the year later today, and I'm so excited to get back on my broom. I really want to try out that dive you were telling me about in your last letter, though I don't know how my captain will feel about it. She already thinks I'm too reckless.
I managed to figure out how to get the European Quidditch League commentary in English on my Wireless, so I'll try and keep up with your matches. It'll be a good break from the enormous amount of homework I have!
What else have you been up to since I last wrote?
Good luck in your next match,
Harry
Again, that friendship was new and a little unsteady, but at least they had the common ground of quidditch to fall back on. Viktor was much more verbose on paper than he was in person, his dry sense of humour sneaking out the more Harry got to know him.
There wasn't anyone else outside of the castle that he could think to write to — he'd speak to Sirius when Snape got the mirror back to him, and possibly Remus, too. Although Tonks had made him promise to write…
Quickly, he scrawled out a short note to her, asking how things were going and only complaining a little bit about Umbridge. He wasn't sure what else to say; there was a lot she didn't know, and a lot he wasn't sure he could trust her with. But she was family, of a sort, and Harry was happy to work on getting to know her.
With four letters sealed and ready to send, Harry left the common room and set off towards the Owlery. Hedwig was waiting for him, and he stroked her head softly, affixing the letters for the Weasley brothers and Tonks — they were likely to be delivered at the same place. She took off, and Harry quickly used a couple of school owls for the letters to Fleur and Viktor, choosing a stout-looking eagle owl for the trip all the way to Bulgaria.
Just as he carried it to the window, the Owlery door opened. It was Cho, who halted in surprise. "Oh. I didn't think anyone else would be up here this early."
"I wanted to get it out of the way," Harry said with a shrug. Cho had a parcel in her hands, and Harry helped her secure it to the leg of a large brown owl.
"It's my mum's birthday," she said by way of explanation, then blushed. "I should've sent it yesterday, actually, but I forgot until about five minutes ago. It's been a bit of a week." Harry hummed in sympathy. "Ooh, yeah, not as bad as yours, though," she agreed ruefully. "Are you all done with detentions now?"
"For now," Harry confirmed. Cho's lips twisted in a scowl.
"She's foul," she muttered. "The way she talks about… about what happened. The things she says about you, and Cedric, and Dumbledore. I hate her."
"Try not to let her get to you."
Cho snorted. "Bit rich, coming from you." Harry ran a hand through his hair, not denying it.
"Rather me than anyone else."
For some reason, that made Cho's dark eyes soften sadly. Before she could say anything, the door slammed open abruptly.
"Aha!" Filch crowed in delight, pointing one gnarled finger at Harry. "There you are. I've had a tip-off that you're planning to place a massive order for dungbombs."
Harry shared a bewildered look with Cho. "Says who?"
"I have my sources," Filch scowled. "Whatever you're sending, hand it over."
"Can't. I sent it already."
The caretaker's expression turned thunderous. "What?" He scanned Harry suspiciously. "How do I know you aren't hiding it in your pockets?"
Harry turned out the pockets of his jeans, revealing nothing more than a sweet wrapper.
"I saw him send it," Cho declared, meeting Filch's gaze. "It didn't look like an order form, though. Just a normal letter."
The caretaker didn't seem convinced, but he left after a half-muttered threat about blaming Harry for even the slightest hint of dungbomb. When he was gone, Cho shook her head. "That was weird." She paused. "You weren't ordering dungbombs, were you?"
"Of course not. I've got the twins for that."
Cho giggled, then sobered. "I reckon someone wants to read your mail," she remarked. A cold sensation dripped down Harry's spine. There was one person that it would be assumed he was writing to — one person the Ministry wanted very much to get their hands on.
"I think you might be right," he agreed grimly.
He was going to have to be a lot more careful with his post, in future.
.-.-.
Cho and Harry parted ways at the base of the Owlery stairs, and Harry wandered down to get some breakfast, mentally arranging his day. He was quite happy to leave all the homework he'd been set the day before until Sunday — and was applauding himself for having done all the rest of it during the week, even if it meant a few hours less sleep. His Saturday could be all about enjoyment — Quidditch, time with friends, and if he was lucky an evening with Draco.
Neville was sat alone at the Gryffindor table, which made Harry frown. He scanned the room, eyes landing on a head of long red hair, over at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny was sat with Michael Corner, which wasn't unusual — but they had their hands clasped on the tabletop.
That was new.
It also explained the morose expression on his friend's face. "You alright?" Harry asked, squeezing onto the bench beside Neville. The boy blinked, then followed Harry's gaze.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. "They're dating, now. Officially."
There was no need to ask who 'they' were. Harry winced. "And… how do you feel about that?"
The smile Neville gave in return was almost painful to look at. "I'm fine. Happy for them, even." He stabbed viciously at the yolk of his fried egg, watching it ooze over his plate.
"…Right." Harry continued to watch him warily for a few moments. If Neville didn't want to talk about it, Harry wouldn't force him, but… God, he did not understand what the pair of them were doing.
He wasn't sure he could sit back and watch Draco date someone else, no matter how much he loved him, how many promises that he'd come back to Harry at the end of it. But of course, this was Neville, so he'd never say anything. He still hadn't quite figured out how to stand up for himself.
Harry sighed, and reached for the bacon. It wasn't his business, he reminded himself. If they wanted his opinion, they'd ask for it.
"What are you up to today?" he asked, wishing Neville had sat on the other side of the table, so they weren't staring directly at the Ravenclaw table.
"Meeting with Susan and the rest after breakfast. If you're up for it," Neville added, eyebrows drawn together.
"Sounds perfect."
"Great. Then homework, I guess. Though Professor Sprout was telling me about this new delivery of these hybrid venomous tentacula plants she just got — they sound really interesting — so I might go down and have a look, if she'll let me." Neville brightened at the idea of spending time in the greenhouses, and Harry smiled; just the thing to take his mind off Ginny.
"I've got quidditch practice at two. Suppose I'll do homework after."
"How about I go to the greenhouses while you're at quidditch, then we meet back up to do homework together? If— if you want to, that is." Neville looked hesitant, and Harry wondered how long it was going to take the other boy to realise that he was Harry's best friend, of course he wanted to do homework together.
"Sounds like a plan to me." He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "I'll probably be, ah, out this evening, though, if you know what I mean." He hadn't checked with Draco yet, but he couldn't see his boyfriend having objections.
Neville looked confused for a moment, then grinned with the realisation, wiggling his eyebrows. "All night?" he asked softly. Harry choked on his toast.
"No!" he hissed, blushing brightly. "Not— we aren't there yet." He was not going to get into that with Neville, certainly not in the middle of the Great Hall. "An hour or two after curfew, tops." As much as he loved Draco, he was still severely lacking in sleep, and didn't want to be out too late.
Neville was still smirking, but he didn't say anything more on the subject. Not even when they left breakfast to go to the empty classroom Susan had told Neville to meet at, and Draco was already there. Harry smiled at him, hoping he wasn't blushing as he dropped into the seat beside the blond. "Morning."
"Morning, Scarhead," Draco greeted, voice just edging into fondness. His knee bumped Harry's under the table, and Harry felt a piece of parchment brush his fingertips. He grabbed it quickly, stuffing it in his pocket.
Susan herself was the last to arrive, though she looked pleased to see them all there. "Good. This won't take long, I know we've all got a shit-ton of homework."
"You all have no idea," Cassius muttered ominously, in all his seventh year wisdom. Susan ignored him, taking her seat.
"So, we're all agreed that Umbridge is a Ministry spy, yes?" she declared, making Harry snort.
"Got that bit, yeah. Can't tell if she's here to keep an eye on me or Dumbledore most, though."
"Why can't it be both?" Daphne pointed out. "Fudge has always hated how Dumbledore runs this school like it's entirely separate from the Ministry. He'll want to get this place to conform, and you along with it."
The very idea made all of them grimace. A Ministry-approved Hogwarts would be a very dull thing indeed.
"Do we need to worry that much?" Ernie remarked, leaning back in his chair. "Every other Defence professor that's had it out for Harry has ended up dead — no offence, of course," he added sheepishly. "But why don't we just let nature take its course?"
Harry wasn't sure how to feel about his previous years being described as nature taking its course.
"The professors don't end up dead until the last few weeks of the year," Padma pointed out. "There's a lot of damage she can do before then."
"Are you asking me to hurry it up?" Harry asked, entirely deadpan. Draco snorted quietly at his side.
"If you wouldn't mind," he drawled, eyes flashing. "As long as she's here, we're at an impasse. Now that Fudge is interim Chief Warlock, he's going to be even more worried about losing control of the Wizengamot. Not that we can do much until we're of age, but if he gets even a hint that we're all planning on taking our seats this early, well — he can't even be happy about Dumbledore losing his proxy seats, because they'll be going to you."
"I agree with you. But that doesn't mean I'm going to kill Umbridge," Harry said mildly.
"Shame," Draco replied in a similar tone.
"Sometimes I wonder what the rest of the school would think if they saw you two like this," Parvati said, shaking her head. "But I don't think any of them are ready for it."
Harry and Draco shared an amused look — if only they could see what the pair of them were like among family.
"The point is," Susan said somewhat impatiently, "we can talk about laws we want to change all we like, but without our family heads on board, we're useless. What we can do, however, is make the Ministry regret trying to interfere in our school."
A stab of fear went through Harry at the prospect of all his friends getting detentions with that awful quill. "Surely if she's here to get Dumbledore out, we should leave her to it?"
"That certainly wouldn't hurt, but it's not just Dumbledore she wants out. It's anyone and anything who doesn't fit her standards," Susan replied coldly. "You know what her voting record is like, Harry. She'd ban anyone with an ounce of creature blood from the school if she could."
"She said the most awful things about Professor Flitwick the other day," Anthony Goldstein said, angry on behalf of his Housemaster. "He's the best Charms Master in the country, and she doesn't think he's fit to teach!"
"But what can we do, though?" The quiet words came from Neville, on Harry's other side. "Realistically, what can we do that isn't going to make everything worse? She's already shown she's happy to give detention to anyone who stands up to her."
"We don't all need to be quite so brazen as Potter," Millicent Bulstrode drawled. "Umbridge is a control freak. She wants order. All we have to do is make her realise it's a lot harder to control a castle full of teenagers than she seems to think." A smirk slid across her features. "Socialising with other houses. Running in the corridors, messy uniforms, late homework. Behave for all the teachers except her. We get enough people doing it, she won't be able to put all of us in detention."
"Of course, when Millie says we, she means you," Pansy piped up. "It's not worth the risk of our parents finding out if we were to join in this rebellion."
They all knew that the Death Eaters were trying their best to infiltrate the Ministry and ingratiate themselves to Fudge, so of course their children couldn't be seen going against Umbridge's word.
"We'll hide in plain sight," Padma agreed. "Keep up our study groups, make sure it doesn't look like the Wizengamot heirs are banding together — be so obvious she can't possibly think there's something wrong. And if she tries to restrict things, well — we've already had plenty of experience reading laws and regulations in search of loopholes, after Susan's little summer project." The smile that crossed her face was positively devious in its innocence. "We'll follow her word to the letter."
"If it makes the Ministry angrier at Dumbledore, all the better," Parvati agreed with her twin. Susan hummed thoughtfully.
"I'm talking to Aunt Amelia about it, trying to see if there's a way to get her removed. After what Harry said about her teaching qualifications, we're trying to see if that can be used against her, but it looks like Fudge pulled an awful lot of strings to get her where she is."
Harry didn't doubt that; especially if Fudge had condoned the Blood Quill. Suddenly, he remembered his run-in with Filch, and frowned. "Be careful what you put in writing," he warned. "Filch tried to read my mail this morning — said he'd been told I was ordering a load of dungbombs. I'd already sent it off, but… if Umbridge was the one who sent him, it might not just be my letters she's after." She could be after Sirius — or she could just be looking for more information to use to slander Harry. He didn't want to take the chance that she might go after someone else, too.
They all looked horrified by the idea, promising to be careful.
"So we just wait until she makes her move, and then the chaos begins?" Cassius asked. "Normal students until our freedom is threatened?"
Harry mulled the idea over in his head, grinning slowly. Millicent was right.
Hogwarts was a big castle, and Umbridge would soon learn that she couldn't possible control all of it.
.-.-.-.
Harry was practically skipping by the time he made it down to the quidditch pitch, Firebolt slung over his shoulder. His whole body vibrated with the need to get up in the air — the month at Grimmauld was the longest he'd gone without flying since the summer before his third year. He arrived before the rest of the team, and amused himself by flying laps, getting progressively faster and turning tighter until he was practically doing a backflip to change direction. A sharp whistle caught his attention, and he looked down to see Angelina and the others stood in the middle of the pitch. He landed, a breathless grin on his face.
"All warmed up?" Alicia teased, tossing the quaffle his way. "Captain says we're passing. Spread out."
Harry offered a jaunty salute, speeding off to the other end of the pitch. He ended up between Fred and their new keeper, who had a determined set to her jaw. The quaffle started making its rounds, and Harry was pleased to see Frobisher seemed to be able to handle it fairly well.
"I wanted to try out last year," she said, raising her voice so Harry could hear despite the distance. He tossed the quaffle her way, impressed when she leaned far back on her broom to catch it. "But there was that whole tournament thing. At least it's given me an extra year to practice."
'That whole tournament thing', as if she wasn't describing the most horrifying series of events in Harry's young life.
"Angelina said you're in a load of other clubs," he commented. He hadn't had much interaction with any third years before now. Half the time he sort-of forgot the younger students existed.
"Charms club, Arithmancy society, Debate club, and last year some of the Ravenclaws in my year started a book club, but that's more of an informal thing," she relayed, tossing the quaffle hard to Alicia. Harry was caught off guard when the ball then came his way, but managed to catch it with his fingertips, passing it on to George across the circle.
"Blimey," he remarked. "I didn't even know half those things existed."
Vicky laughed. "Guess you've always been a bit busy with other stuff." That was an understatement if Harry had ever heard one. "My mum warned me about you, y'know." Harry's heart sank, wondering if he was in for another lecture about his sanity like Seamus had, but then he realised the girl was grinning. "She said you were trouble, but at least you paid well for it."
Abruptly, Harry realised why her name was so familiar. "Your mum is my lawyer," he said, eyes widening at the connection. Vicky grinned wider, nodding. "Wow. Didn't realise she had a daughter at the school." No wonder she'd been so keen to get Skeeter off Hogwarts grounds. "I'll tell her you say hi," Vicky replied.
"Please do. Though I hope she won't be offended when I say I really hope I don't need a lawyer this year."
That made the girl laugh so much she almost missed the quaffle, but a quick dive and a barrel-roll had the ball secured.
"Right, I think that's enough of a warm-up," Angelina announced, looking very satisfied with her choice of keeper. "Fred, George, get your bats and let the bludgers out. We're gonna put the newbie through her paces."
Harry glanced to Vicky, wondering if she was going to get nervous. On the contrary, she looked excited by the challenge. She shot off to hover in front of the goal hoops, braced for impact, no hesitation whatsoever.
Suddenly, Harry was feeling very good about their chances for the cup that year.
.-.-.
The quidditch team played right up until dinner time, and would've played even longer if they weren't so starving. It felt good, being back in the air, and while Harry wasn't as involved with the main plays, being a seeker, he could see that Vicky was going to fit in just fine. They didn't get the snitch out — Angelina had no doubt in his ability to catch it, and wanted him focused more on the team — so Harry's job was to essentially be as annoying as possible, trying to distract and disrupt the chasers and keeper. It was fun, and he was beaming as he walked with George up towards the castle; Fred had hung back in the changing rooms with Angelina, and Harry and George had no intention of waiting for them to finish.
"You doing alright, kid?" George asked, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry leaned into him, still smiling.
"Better now I've flown." The redhead hummed knowingly. "I'll be even better after tonight."
George wiggled his eyebrows. "Post-curfew plans, eh?" Harry blushed, but nodded. "Catch me before you go; I've got some potions questions for your brainiac beau."
"Will do. Though don't expect any answers tonight."
"Course not," George agreed, smirking. "He'll be too busy snogging your face off."
Harry's silence was an answer in itself.
"Ron's not giving you too much trouble, is he?"
Harry shook his head. "He's actually left me alone more than I expected. I don't know if he's just given up trying to do what Dumbledore wants, or if Dumbledore thinks I'm having some kind of teenage angst rebellion and will come crawling back to them in a month or two, but other than a few remarks, they've both been fine."
Hermione seemed to take it as a personal offence that Harry was excelling in classes. He'd been the only one other than her to complete the Vanishing spell in class, and he'd actually beaten her to the punch in Charms. She had been studying even more diligently than usual, from what he'd seen.
"Glad to hear it. I live in hope that a bit of time alone will make him get his head out of his arse, but he might just be a lost cause." George shook his head sadly. Harry frowned; it had to be hard, watching your little brother act in such a way.
"Lots of people are idiots when they're fifteen," he said. "Maybe he'll come around eventually."
"Maybe. Until then, we've got plenty of products to test on him." George smirked mischievously. "Business is booming, and it's all thanks to you."
"You two are the ones with the brains," Harry insisted. "I just invested in talent."
That actually brought a blush to George's freckled face, and he ruffled Harry's hair. "We owe you, big time."
"No you don't," Harry waved him off, "you're family."
George pulled him closer, smacking a loud kiss to his cheek. Harry groaned, wiping at the slobber-mark exaggeratedly. "Go pester Lee," he mock-grumbled, turning through the doorway to the Great Hall. George laughed, but obediently disappeared.
As he headed to his table, Harry couldn't help but glance across the room in the direction of the Slytherin table, where Draco was holding court in the centre of a cluster of fifth and sixth year Slytherins. His hair was mussed, and the sleeves of his dark green button-down were rolled up to his elbows.
Harry almost tripped over his own feet, eyes so fixed on the curve of Draco's wrist, the line of his forearm.
He blushed, tearing his gaze away, heat filling his veins.
The note Draco had passed in the heirs meeting asked him to meet at eight. Those three hours were going to crawl by.
.-.-.
Sitting in the unused classroom Draco had selected, Harry watched the little dot on the Marauder's Map labelled Draco Malfoy as it steadily made its way up from the dungeons. He'd already checked they were clear — Umbridge was in what Harry assumed was her personal quarters, and the only teacher out on evening patrol was Sprout, who was two floors up. There were prefects out, but Draco was one too; Harry wasn't worried about him getting caught.
He put the map away when the dot reached the corridor outside, and was grinning when the door slid open. Draco immediately locked and warded it with his wand, while Harry jumped to his feet.
"Merlin, I've been waiting all day for this," he declared, tugging Draco into a kiss. Draco's hands landed on his hips, steadying him.
"It's been far too long," the Slytherin agreed, smile soft. "I'm glad I had that mirror of yours, the last half of summer. I… I don't know what I would've done without it." Harry tensed at the reminder of the guests in Draco's home, pulling his boyfriend closer.
With a few Cushioning charms, they got comfortably cuddled up in the back corner, Harry leaning against the wall while Draco tucked himself against Harry's chest. "Can you stay at the school over Christmas?" he asked, tangling Draco's fingers with his own.
"Probably. Even Father will agree that the atmosphere at home isn't really conducive to studying. And of course, I must do well on my OWLs, or I'll disgrace the family name." The bitterness in his tone made Harry frown, kissing his temple.
"You're going to do better on your OWLs than your father could even dream of doing," he insisted.
"I hope so," Draco sighed. "I suppose you'll be spending Yule break with Sirius?"
"Maybe. I rarely get to decide these things." Perhaps he would be allowed to go back to Grimmauld for the holidays. If the Weasleys were going too. If Dumbledore wasn't pissed off with Harry by then. "I wish we could all spend it at Seren Du."
The idea of a family Christmas — a proper one, in their real home, with Draco and his mother there too — made Harry's chest clench painfully.
"We will one day."
Harry sighed, squeezing Draco's hand, then raised it up to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the side of his wrist — the sight that had been so distracting at dinner.
"What?" Draco remarked, looking up in confusion. Harry just smiled.
"I like your wrists. Your arms," he said, trailing his fingers up the silk-soft forearm. "This whole sleeves-rolled-up thing is a good look for you."
Draco smirked, and the next thing Harry knew his boyfriend was sat up, straddling his lap. "You like me looking all disheveled, do you?" A wicked light entered his eyes. Harry hummed, letting his hands rest on Draco's waist.
"Yeah. But it's better when I know I'm the one who made you that way."
They kissed, lips parting eagerly, and though Harry could feel that both of them were hard, he felt no pressure to do anything about it. His mind flashed back to their conversation on his birthday — they had plenty of time to figure all that out, there was no need to rush things.
Though he wouldn't mind seeing Draco with his shirt off again.
Tentatively, he set his fingers on the first button of the blond's shirt, toying with it before he popped it open. Draco's eyes were hot with want when he broke the kiss, both hands in Harry's hair. "Go on," he urged, then kissed him again. A moan rose in Harry's throat. With that permission, he slowly undid the rest of the buttons, eventually pushing the soft shirt back off Draco's shoulders, revealing endless creamy skin. Harry's breath hitched at the sight, and as Draco pulled his arms out of the sleeves, Harry ran a hand over the blond's shoulder. There was more muscle there than he remembered, though his lithe frame was deceptive. His body was starting to look less like a teenager's, more like a man's.
"You're so gorgeous," Harry murmured in awe, watching the blush travel all the way down Draco's neck and chest. For someone who projected such a cocky demeanour, Draco still struggled to take an earnest compliment.
"Says the boy with annoyingly perfect abs," he retorted breathlessly, tugging Harry's t-shirt up to stare at the abs in question. It was Harry's turn to blush — he had spent so much of his life not thinking about how his body looked, aware of how scrawny and awkward he was. Now that Snape's nutrient potions had corrected the damage done by the Dursleys, Harry wasn't used to having a body to be proud of. A body others admired. As long as they didn't see the scars.
He didn't fight Draco pulling his shirt all the way over his head, setting his glasses aside when they tangled in the fabric. "Salazar," the blond sighed, sitting back against Harry's thighs to take in the sight. "Not a hint of that weedy little third year I started fancying, is there?"
Harry grinned, stealing a kiss, skin sparking with electricity when it pressed them closer together at the crotch. "D'you still fancy me, then?" he asked teasingly, arching his neck as Draco dropped his head to mouth at his shoulder. "Mm, a bit, yeah," he murmured, sucking a dark bruise on Harry's collarbone, safe where his uniform would cover.
"That's good," Harry sighed. "I fancy you, too, a bit." His back pressed against the cold stone wall as Draco adjusted himself, getting in a better position to attack Harry's neck. It was the most glorious torture, and Harry never wanted it to end.
"I'm glad half the school thinks you're a lunatic," Draco said, once he was done leaving his mark. Harry raised a bemused eyebrow. "Means they're too busy calling you crazy to realise how fucking hot you got over the summer. I'll be hexing people all over the place once they finally figure it out."
Harry ducked his head to hide his blush, kissing Draco's sternum. "Doubt it," he muttered. Draco was only saying that because he was Harry's boyfriend. He was positively plain compared to someone like Blaise, or Justin Finch-Fletchley, or Draco himself. There were plenty of other boys in their year for people to thirst after.
"I know you're half-blind without those glasses, Potter, but surely even you see it," Draco teased softly, fingers sliding up Harry's chest.
"I don't, but I'll take your word for it," Harry replied. "As long as you think I'm hot, that's all I care about." He didn't want anyone else looking at him like that, not when he had Draco.
"Just don't come crying to me when all the bent boys in school start chasing after you," Draco joked, cupping Harry's chin to kiss him deeper. "I'll be too busy cursing their dicks to fall off."
That startled a laugh out of Harry, and he shook his head, grinning up at his ridiculous boyfriend. God, he was so in love.
Maybe he'd tell him that, one day soon.