Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thanks so much to those who reviewed! Responses are at the bottom of the chapter.
I'm excited to continue this story and see where it takes me. Just to give you a sense of what to expect, I'm envisioning this as mainly a story about Harry figuring out who he wants to be now that he's fulfilled his purpose as the Chosen One and struggling to reconcile other people's expectations and his desire for freedom to make his own choices, even when those choices are unpopular (*cough* Draco Malfoy *cough*). Expect some angst, some fluff, some more smut, and hopefully some humor too.
And please keep those reviews coming! I always appreciate feedback.
Chapter 2: Bridges
It could have been a different Harry.
It was the first thought that popped into his head when Harry awoke the next morning. He had just opened his eyes and the words were already there, soft but insistent in his head.
He might not have been thinking about me at all. It might have been someone else.
He had gone to bed the night before with his head full of Malfoy, and his restless sleep had been rife with images of the Slytherin, particularly the way he had looked when he came, moaning Harry’s name. But in the sober light of day things looked quite different. He realized he had jumped to conclusions, assuming it had been him that Malfoy was thinking of, and not some other Harry, maybe someone he knew outside of school. Maybe Malfoy already had a boyfriend, who was just coincidentally named Harry as well. It made a lot more sense than for Malfoy to suddenly want Harry Potter of all people. The blond hadn’t shown any emotion other than contempt, disdain, or outright hatred towards him in the seven years they had known each other, and Harry didn’t believe anything could change that. Not even defeating Voldemort, nor saving Malfoy’s life, nor keeping him and his mother out of Azkaban, could change that. If anything, Malfoy probably resented him more since Harry came out of the war a hero while the Malfoy name was disgraced. No, Malfoy didn’t want Harry. He could never want him.
He choked down his disappointment and berated himself for even feeling it. It wasn’t like Harry wanted Malfoy either. He was an arrogant, spoiled, narcissistic blood supremacist. It didn’t matter that the git also just so happened to be devastatingly attractive. Harry had never based desire on looks alone, and he wasn’t about to start now.
And he had Ginny. He loved Ginny.
And Malfoy was an arrogant prick.
Who didn’t want him anyway.
So there.
Still, as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the Slytherin table, his eyes peeled for a certain head of platinum locks, before making his way to his fellow Gryffindors. The fleeting glance didn’t reveal much. The blond was simply eating breakfast, his face impassive while he conversed with fellow Slytherin Blaise Zabini. He looked perfectly normal. Perfectly like himself.
“Morning, Harry,” Hermione greeted him, looking up from her copy of the Daily Prophet to give him a warm smile.
“Morning, guys,” Harry greeted the table as he sat down next to Neville and began filling his plate.
“Bloody brilliant practice last night, mate,” Ron said, once he had managed to swallow his mouthful of bacon and eggs. “I reckon if we keep this up we’ll flatten Ravenclaw next month.”
“I think so, too,” said Harry. “Talbott was an excellent find. I have you to thank for that.”
Ron grinned. He was the one that had suggested Harry take on Ben Talbott as a new Beater, despite the fact that he was only a third year. But the boy had a powerful swing and excellent aim. Talbott had been so nervous during tryouts that Harry was all ready to write him off as unable to handle the pressure, but Ron had seen something in the third year and had talked Harry into giving him a shot. And it had paid off.
Harry pondered, not for the first time, if the Gryffindor Quidditch team wasn’t better off if Harry handed over the captaincy to Ron. His best friend had always been the better strategist, as his mean chess game could attest to, and after the Horcrux hunt and the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron had gained wisdom and confidence, and really grown into himself as a natural leader.
As he considered this Harry realized that he had been subconsciously looking again in Malfoy’s direction. He was joined by more Slytherins at the table now, namely Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott, the only other snakes who had elected to return to Hogwarts for their 8^th year. Millicent Bulstrode’s family had gone abroad after Voldemort’s fall, and Gregory Goyle was serving a sentence in Azkaban, after the extent of his Death Eater activities was revealed during the trials.
Parkinson was teasing Malfoy about something, though from this distance Harry had no way of hearing what. She reached out, suddenly, trying to ruffle Malfoy’s hair, but he was fighting her back with a grimace. She laughed as he straightened his hair back to perfection again, his mouth twisted in his usual sneer and his eyes rolling. But then, unexpectedly, unbelievably, Malfoy dropped the sneer and adopted a smile, aimed in Parkinson’s direction. A real, honest to Merlin smile, with gleaming white teeth and dimples around his mouth. Harry felt his stomach flip over at the sight, much to his own chagrin.
“Harry.”
He was almost glad to look away, giving Hermione his attention. “Yeah?”
Hermione tossed the Daily Prophet onto his mostly empty plate. “We’ve got another one,” she said. “Page three.”
Harry opened the paper and took a look. It took him only a few seconds to spot it.
Godfather to the Savior: A Retrospective on the Life of Sirius Black
Harry furrowed his brow and skimmed the article. Yes, it was much like the others: sentimental and syrupy. And disturbingly accurate. It gave Sirius’ history as the shunned son of the House of Black and best friend of James Potter, before going on to describe the painful details of the betrayal by Peter Pettigrew and the miscarriage of justice that had led to Sirius’ imprisonment. But all of that was common knowledge, particularly since Harry had worked to set things straight and have Sirius’ name cleared after the war.
No, what was really worrying was what the article had to say about Sirius’ relationship with Harry, how they had been reunited after Harry’s third year, how he had tragically only had a couple of years with his pseudo-father figure before the man’s untimely death at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry felt his hackles rise. He didn’t have to look at the author’s byline to know who had written the article.
“Where is she getting her information?” Harry asked Hermione, tossing the paper back her way.
“I don’t know, Harry,” she replied. “Maybe she’s using her powers as an Animagus again. In either case, it’s troubling, isn’t it? The articles are only getting more personal.”
Harry had to agree. It was no surprise that for the past few months Harry had dominated the news, being the “Savior of the Wizarding World” and all. Sure, others got their due, sometimes. Both Ron and Hermione were featured regularly as part of the Golden Trio that took out the Dark Lord, and the trials got plenty of coverage as well. But Harry was the face of the new era of peace, and reporters and photographers followed him everywhere during those first couple of months. To his relief, things died down after he returned to Hogwarts and was safe behind its walls. Only one reporter remained fixated on writing stories about him regularly.
Who else, but Rita Skeeter?
That, Harry could have predicted. The witch seemed to relish making his life miserable in any way she could, ever since she first met him during the Triwizard Tournament. She had never shied away from twisting the truth or outright fabrication of facts at Harry’s expense in order to satisfy her readers. It would not have surprised Harry to read that he was actually the next Dark Lord, or he had suddenly developed the ability to turn human brains to mush, or had a secret harem of a dozen witches at his beck and call. All of those stories would have been outrageous and fitting for Rita Skeeter.
But she had turned the tables on him. In the past few months, Skeeter had had the audacity to report the truth.
Whether it was a fluff piece about the fact that Harry had recently corrected his eyesight through the Muggle process of laser eye surgery, or a more sober story about Harry’s testimony during the trials, or an article praising Harry for his diplomatic and generous input in the design of Hogwarts’ war memorial, Harry had been hard-pressed to find any factual inaccuracies. As far as he could tell, it was all true.
Rita Skeeter was behaving like a real, professional reporter, with integrity.
It was extremely disturbing.
“What is she playing at?” Hermione said, voicing Harry’s thoughts exactly.
“Selling papers,” Ron said. “What else? The cow has finally wised up and realized that everyone is in love with Harry and it doesn’t do her any good to be mean about him, so she has decided to be nice about him instead.”
Ron had voiced this opinion before, and in the beginning Harry had agreed with him. But now he wasn’t so sure. Hermione wasn’t either.
“There’s more to it than that, I think,” she said. “I mean, she’s never gone this far before. The others were just fluff, superficial. This is really…”
“Invasive,” Harry finished for her, fighting a grimace. He didn’t like all the details of Sirius’ life laid out like that for everyone to see. It wasn’t any of their business.
At that moment, Ginny plopped down next to Harry, giving him a warm smile and a sloppy kiss. “Morning,” she said.
“Morning,” Harry replied, glad for the distraction. “Have some breakfast.”
“Oh, I’m off, actually. I try to be on time for Transfiguration since our new professor is such a tightarse. Just going to grab something to go.”
Harry chuckled and handed her a scone, which she bit into with relish. She chewed, swallowed, and then kissed Harry again. “Just wanted to say ‘Hi’ and I’ll see you at lunch!”
“What are we, chopped dragon liver?” Ron muttered, gesturing between Hermione and himself.
Ginny grinned, blew her brother and her best friend a kiss, and was off in a sweep of her bright red hair.
“We’d better head to Charms then,” Hermione said.
Ron groaned. “I’ve just remembered we have double Potions this afternoon. I don’t want to go!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’ll survive it, Ronald. Honestly.”
Harry followed behind his two friends as they bickered, Ron lamenting ever having decided to pursue becoming an Auror as a career, and Hermione lecturing him about the dangers of cutting corners. He smiled to himself, his heart swelling with a strange kind of gratitude for the normalcy of it all.
***
Truth be told, Harry hadn’t been much looking forward to Potions either. It was still a challenging subject for him, and without the guidance of the Half-Blood Prince he hadn’t managed to rise much above mediocrity this term. Horace Slughorn still favored him, though, which made the class a little more tolerable. Unlike the hours of near torture he’d spent in the dungeons with Severus Snape for five years.
A tangled mix of emotions churned in his gut at the thought of the late Potions master, and he quickly drove it from his mind as he sat down between Ron and Susan Bones in Slughorn’s classroom. Most of the other students had already arrived. The two Ravenclaws, who always showed up early, sat poised and attentive at their respective cauldrons, while the four Slytherins occupied their own little corner of the classroom, well away from the others.
The 8^th years took all of their classes together, regardless of house, since there weren’t many of them and their curriculum was a little different from the 7^th years, leaving more flexibility for independent study and the chance for students to pursue internships outside of Hogwarts. Hermione, for example, ventured to wizarding London via floo once or twice a week to work in the office of a solicitor who focused on creature rights. Others had internships at the Ministry, or had started apprenticeships with a master in one particular subject. Harry hadn’t arranged anything of the sort for himself, since it had always been his plan to enter Auror training after graduation. The more he thought about it, though, the more he wondered if that was what he really wanted…
Slughorn called the class to order, and Harry reined in his thoughts.
“Excellent work in our last unit on Healing potions, all of you,” he said. “If you think you might want to consider Healing as a profession, I recommend considering returning to this unit for your final thesis. But for now we are moving on, to a project that requires more innovation, and will test your creativity and intuition as a potioneer.”
Harry and Ron exchanged glances that were both appalled and amused simultaneously. If they had to measure, Harry would wager that they didn’t have an ounce of intuition for Potions between them.
“This project is complex and will take most of the rest of the term,” Slughorn said. “For that reason, the project will be completed in pairs.”
There was an instant burst of noise as students quickly claimed their partners. Ron clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“If we go down, we go down together,” he said, with ironic solemnity, and Harry laughed.
“Now, now,” Slughorn said, his large mustache twitching. “How about a little inter-house cooperation?”
Harry looked around and saw that Slughorn had a point. Hermione had paired up with Parvati, and the two Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws had chosen to stay well away from the Slytherins, sticking together. Still, no one moved, or volunteered to switch.
Slughorn sighed. “I didn’t want to have to make it a requirement, but I suppose I will. You must choose a partner from a different house. If you cannot work it out amongst yourselves, then I will assign you partners.”
This time there was no mad scramble, but rather an awkward silence as everyone glanced around and tried to catch eyes with someone they thought they could tolerate. No one made eye contact with the Slytherins.
Harry glanced over at Malfoy, and saw him hunched over his cauldron, eyes downcast, not even bothering to scope out a partner.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Harry stood, walking deliberately over to the Slytherin side of the classroom and sitting down in the empty seat next to Malfoy.
There were murmurs of surprise behind him, but Harry ignored them as he watched Malfoy glance up at him, then do an amusing double-take before schooling his expression into one of cold hauteur.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Slughorn said affectionately. “An excellent example to us all. Well, go on, the rest of you. Partner up.”
Harry didn’t pay attention to who ended up with whom. He was too busy looking at Malfoy.
“What do you say then, Malfoy?” Harry said, after the silence had dragged a bit. “Can we work together?”
The Slytherin raised one pale eyebrow and looked at Harry with caution in his eyes. “You would deign to partner with a Slytherin, Potter?” His voice was the usual caustic drawl, specially designed to antagonize.
But Harry found he had to fight a smile. He couldn’t be sure why, but the sound of Malfoy’s voice didn’t annoy him anymore. Rather, he found it amusing, as though Malfoy was simply playing a parody of himself.
“Sure, why not?” Harry replied, aiming for nonchalance. “Everyone knows you’re the best in our year at Potions. Even better than Hermione. And I’m pretty much pants at it, so I can use all the help I can get.”
“Inspiring sales pitch, Potter. Now I have to wonder why on earth I should want to partner with you, when you’ll clearly only drag me down.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not so much pants at it anymore.” Not since Snape stopped teaching it. But he avoided saying that name aloud. It might still be a sore subject for Malfoy. “I’ve improved. And I’m excellent at following instructions.”
Malfoy eyed him, and Harry suspected that they were both thinking the same thing, though they were both unwilling to say it. He suspected that Malfoy knew that no other non-Slytherin would be willing to pair with him, and that Harry’s gesture had spared him some embarrassment. But Merlin forbid that be acknowledged.
“Very well,” Malfoy said with a tortured sigh that implied he was doing Harry a favor, instead of the other way around. “If you are going to insist on it.”
Harry couldn’t hold back the grin any longer. He found Malfoy surprisingly entertaining. Malfoy, for his part, was staring at Harry as though he had grown a second head. Harry’s grin grew wider.
This might actually be kind of fun, he thought.
LLHati: Thank you for being my first reviewer! It means so much to hear that you liked it. I hope you enjoy this second installment.
Dedicated_Reader: Thanks for the great feedback! I'm glad to know my smut is on the classier end of things :) I don't write it much in my professional work, but when I do I like to have a reason for it. I intend to take the same approach with this fic.
I could undoubtedly use a beta reader. I tried to catch all the mistakes but I guess I missed a few, so sorry about that! I will do my best from here on out. Not sure if actually finding a beta is in my immediate future (unless, of course you're volunteering :) ), since I don't know if I will write another fic beyond this one, but I will definitely keep it in mind.
djaddict: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you'll keep reading!
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