• 1-Strangeland
• 2-Nostrum of Etre
• 3-Interpreting the Soul
• 4-FIGHT!
• 5-World of Dreams
• 6-The Final Decision
• 7-I'm Not Even Gay!
• 8-Of Secret Admirers and Bubblebaths
• 9-Liar

Chapter Seven

I’m Not Even Gay!



And so began Harry’s new life in a perfect world. A perfect world that he knew nothing about and a perfect world where everything within it was simply... perfect.



Fearless, worryless, griefless, was the way life should really be, Harry thought as he threw his arms around Sirius’s neck and let the the happy tears fall onto the shoulder of his godfather’s musky robes. This was how it was meant to be from the beginning.



He couldn’t believe that he was actually touching Sirius now... it all seemed so surreal. He’d never really believed in second chances, but feeling his godfather’s arms wrap gruffly around him in return; hearing the hearty laugh next to his ear; it was all enough to make him change his mind. Here was the living proof that death was never the end. He had Sirius.



He was barely listening to Sirius who was half chuckling, half gasping for air and trying to pry a clinging Harry off of him, who was squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs.



“Dra - co! Draco! Help-” Sirius panted, his face slowly turning purple. With Malfoy’s help, he managed to detach Harry’s arms from him and sat rubbing his neck with a slight wince. “What was that for, eh?” he wheezed, looking at Harry. “You really want me that dead, do you?



Harry, who was wiping the steady stream of tears furiously with the back of his hand, gave a sobbing laugh and shook his head.



“So - sorry Sirius,” he hiccuped. “I’m just really, really gl - glad that you’re here. You have no idea...” the words were tumbling out of his mouth clumsily, and he knew he probably sounded deranged, but he couldn’t care less. If he could, he would have climbed to the top of the astronomy tower and shouted his joy for all the perfect world to hear.



“Right, well,” Sirius smiled lopsidedly. “Looks like he’s back to normal, wouldn’t you say?” he turned to Malfoy, who’s lips were twitching with amusement.



“I suppose so,” Malfoy agreed offhandedly, reaching forward and thumping Harry’s back to rid him of the bout of hiccups that had begun to attack him.



Grinning even wider, and looking very much like a happy dog, Sirius got up from his stool, barking, “Well then, this calls for a celebration! What do you say to a little trip down to the kitchens, Harry? Sure the house elves’ll be plenty happy to whip up something good.”



But Malfoy shot him an admonishing look. “We just had cauldron cakes and butterbeer - AND he’s supposed to be in bed!”



Harry couldn’t help but think that this Malfoy was more like Hermione in the other life... but then again, he didn’t want to think about his other life, so he carelessly tossed that thought aside.



“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, his grin matching Sirius’s. “Spent enough time sleeping - I want to do something, now.”



“Harry -” Malfoy said exasperatedly.



Harry faced Malfoy confidently, and he felt, that for the first time, his happiness hadn’t diminished by Malfoy’s mere existence.



“Then you can stay here,” He swiftly caught the cloak that Sirius had thrown him. “And talk to yourself so that Madam Pomfrey will think that we’re still here.”



He almost laughed aloud at the affronted expression on Malfoy’s face after he’d said that.



“I am NOT going to sit here talking to myself like some lunatic!” Malfoy screeched indignantly. “And you can’t just leave me!”



“Then don’t argue and come with us, Draco,” Harry smirked, looking over his shoulder as he and Sirius headed for the door.



Malfoy scowled at him and crossed his arms, watching them stubbornly for a few seconds before realizing that they really were going to leave without him.



“Wait!” he shrieked, before grabbing his own cloak and dashing after them.

-------------------------------

“Slytherin???” Harry bellowed, choking on his pudding cake as the three were climbing back up the stairs with their arms laden with sweets and goodies. “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!”



“Huh?” Malfoy grunted distractedly, glaring at Sirius, who was trying to steal one of his eclairs. When he succeeded, Malfoy stormed after Sirius. “Hey! You’ve got your own, now give that back!”



“I thought you were the one who didn’t want any food in the first place.” said Sirius, sarcastically, waving the eclair in front of Malfoy’s face, and then stuffing it into his mouth before Malfoy could take it back.



“Ugn!” Malfoy let out a noise of rage and kicked Sirius hard in the shin. “What were you saying, Harry? Before Black rudely interrupted?” his still fuming grey eyes turned to him and Harry involuntarily balked an inch.



“Uh -” he stuttered. He’d half hoped that the other two hadn’t heard him clearly, due to their busy arguments. It was something he’d accidentally let slip anyway. “Nothing.”



“No, you shouted ‘SLYTHERIN!’, and then something after that.” corrected Sirius, misreading the look on Harry’s face for forgetfulness.



Harry laughed bleakly. “I was... cheering... because - I’m... happy to be in Slytherin?” Gag. Harry thought, suppressing a grimace.



At this, Malfoy smirked as if he were pleased and Sirius snorted.



“Happy to be in Slytherin my arse.” the older man scoffed unpleasantly. “You should have been in Gryffindor like the rest of the Marauders, if you ask me. Dunno where it went wrong.”



“You’re just spiteful because you’re jealous that he’s in the same house as me.” Malfoy said smugly, clearly enjoying the conversation. And while Sirius was busy muttering things and rolling his eyes, he sneakily stole one of Sirius’s fruit tarts and winked at Harry.



Alright, so maybe it’s not a completely perfect life. Harry thought with an inward sigh. Being in Slytherin was definitely not a good thing. But. A voice said inside his head. I’d rather tough it out in Slytherin, than live without Sirius and my mum and dad.



It was then that he questioned the one thing that he’d wanted to ask ever since he’d come to accept this new life as his own. He hesitated before shifting his gaze to Sirius.



“Sirius?” he asked, hoping that he sounded aloof. “Am I going back home this year for the winter holidays?”



“It’s up to you, isn’t it? Why ask me?” returned Sirius.



“Are you going to see them for Christmas?” Harry pressed on hopefully.



“Harry,” Malfoy frowned. “You don’t have to follow him everywhere like his bloody shadow. For once, why don’t you do what you want?”



Harry paused uncertainly. “Are you going home for Christmas?” he asked Malfoy.



He thought Malfoy gave him a fleeting look before fixing his gaze ahead and shrugging.



“Maybe,” was his only reply.



“Doubt you’ll have much fun though, at home. I mean, Lily’s going to be gone until mid-January and you’ll have to spend two weeks alone with your dad, and I.” Sirius looked thoughtful. “Maybe we can persuade him to visit Hogwarts instead.”



Harry felt his heart fall. “My - my mum’s going to be gone?”



Sirius nodded. “She told me she was going to take a long trip to Germany to help out some causes... volunteer work or something. She’s a great woman.”



Harry tried to respond with a convincing “yeah,” but inside, he felt crestfallen. He wanted to see both his mum and dad so much.



Then, he asked Sirius another thing that had been tugging at his conscience for a while and just hoped that they wouldn’t think oddly of him. At least not anymore then they already did.



“Why are you here, Sirius?”



“That’s what I keep asking him!” Malfoy exclaimed suddenly, his perfectly contoured eyebrows furrowing. “Why do you keep popping up here at school every week? Don’t you have a life of your own?”



Sirius looked slightly offended at this. “Of course I have a life of my own. I just like being here and seeing Harry.” he said pertinently to Malfoy.



“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were here because you just hate being alone in that tiny house of yours all day.” Malfoy retorted dryly.



“It’s not tiny, and I don’t mind being alone,” ground Sirius, his expression cool but his tone highly miffed.



Harry decided to cut in before another quarrel began.



“Why aren’t you and dad working together?”



“He’s being a lazy ass,” drawled Malfoy.



“Oh, and like you’re going to work after you graduate?” snorted Sirius.



“No. Unlike you, my reason for unemployment would be because I have enough money to ensure that my grandchildren can safely live their lives without work. Therefore, I won’t work either.”



“You’re broke, Sirius?” Harry asked in shock. In the other life... he shook the thought away.



“If I was broke, how would I have given you that Quidditch pitch for your birthday?”



“What??” Harry cried, and for the second time, he swore silently and bit his tongue. “I mean... yeah. You’re right.”



He had a Quidditch pitch? Where? Harry was dazed beyond belief.



Malfoy clucked his tongue impatiently. “That’s nothing to what I gave you Harry, remember?”



“A house buried in green and silver?” Sirius gibed. “Sickening really. Harry gets enough Slytherin at school, he doesn’t need rubbish like that at home.”



A HOUSE??? Harry was nearly flying off his feet in utter dubiety.



“You like it, don’t you Harry?” Malfoy pursed his lips and glared at Harry, as if daring him to say anything otherwise.



And so the rest of the walk to the Slytherin dungeons went like this. Malfoy sparring at Sirius and Sirius reciprocating like he wasn’t any older than seventeen. Like a duel of tug-a-war with Harry, who was occasionally demanded to agree with either.



But when they finally reached the cold slab of stone that Harry knew to be the Slytherin house’s entrance, Sirius promptly managed to quench his anger and let them retreat into the common room with a ‘goodnight’.



Harry soon found out that he shared the seventh year boy’s dorm with Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle, much to his disgust and disappointment. He wondered if he would ever get to sleep with the two lugs snoring up a storm.



As he timidly entered the dormitory however, his disappointment was overrode by a severe uncomfortableness. Indeed, like Sirius had said, it was very green and silver. Enough that he thought he might go temporarily blind. Everything; the bed sheets, the pillows, the rugs, the drapes, the walls... they were all either green or silver. The only other color he could see was the brown of the bedposts and orange of the fire burning in the lamps.



This, he thought, might keep him up far more effectively then Crabbe and Goyle’s snoring. And that wasn’t a very comforting thought.



There was also a coldness in the room. Not necessarily the temperature itself (although it was very frigid down in the dungeons), but the look of the circular room was rather uninviting compared to his dormitory in Gryffindor. He decidedly blamed it on the coloring.



He slunk back and waited casually to see where Malfoy would go, to figure out which bed was his. It turned out that he was sandwiched between Malfoy’s bed, and Zabini’s bed. He walked over and hurriedly sat down, eager to sleep the rest of the night away so that he could see Sirius again in the morning. He’d forgotten to ask Sirius if he was staying overnight. He hoped so.



Harry had followed Malfoy’s suit and dumped the cakes and cookies on one of the plush armchairs closest to Goyle’s bed, and both he and Crabbe were now busily stuffing their faces happily. Harry couldn’t remember a time where he’d thought that humans could look more like pigs than anything; the sight was very nauseating.



He looked at the floating clock near his bedside table and saw that it was already nearing midnight. Bidding a tired goodnight to his dorm mates, he climbed into his soft bed, which was heated to a perfect warmth by the bed warmer under the comforter. It felt nice.



That night, he dreamed again, of Ron and Hermione.

-------------------------------------

“Oy, get up.” a lazy prod on his shoulder. “Harry, get your bum out of bed already.”



Harry groaned irritably and plunked his pillow over his head.



“Few more minutes, Ron...” he slurred in a muffled voice, falling back to sleep.



He smiled to himself when he heard silence again. Ron had apparently given up.



“Uh... Harry?” said Ron again.



Or not. Harry thought, his hot breath fuming his face as he exhaled heavily.



“Fine...” he croaked, tossing the pillow off his head and rolling over onto his back. He squinted and lay a hand over his eyes to block out the bright sunlight. “Too bright...”



“Did you just say...” Ron began uneasily, and Harry could make out the blurred figure of Ron shifting uncertainly. But then, he got this eerie feeling that Ron’s voice should be a little higher in pitch, and that even though his vision sucked at the moment, there should have been a blob of red somewhere where the head was...



He snatched his glasses swiftly from the table and jammed them onto his nose and let out a gasp.



“Za- Zabini???” Harry rasped, dashing his head against one of the posts in surprise. Rubbing the tender spot gingerly, he managed to crack open an eye to stare at Blaise Zabini, who was standing a foot away with a confused look on his face. “Wh- what...” he was about to ask what the HELL he was doing in Gryffindor tower, when he took in the excessive amount of green around him. Green, green, green, green, green... he might as well have been sleeping in a pine forest.



Harry looked back at Zabini and became restless when he realized that Zabini was still gazing at him oddly.



“Er-” he said, shifting uneasily. His mind was still groggy from having just woken up, and it was working hard to figure out what was going on. “Am I supposed to be here?” he tried passively.



“Blaise, is he up for fuck’s sake??” a sharp voice called through the open door.



Zabini paused for a moment before turning his head slightly, his eyes still glued on Harry’s, and shouted back, “Yeah, he’s up!”



Then, in came Malfoy who was gracefully shrugging into his school shirt and his tie slung around his neck, yet to be knotted. His black slacks were undone and his hair was slightly damp as if he’d just come out of the shower minutes before.



Harry blinked, his eyes fixed on the strip of pale skin peeking out from beneath the unbuttoned shirt. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Malfoy!”



Malfoy shot him a cold look and picked up a comb from his own table.



“Will you stop calling me ‘Malfoy’? It’s unnerving.”



Everything had come back to Harry’s memory and he was sitting half stunned on his bed with his disheveled hair and ruffled pajamas. He was aware that he probably looked very rugged compared to primped Malfoy.



“What?” Malfoy snapped, carefully doing up his buttons.



“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, clearing his throat and getting up off his bed. “S’ppose I should take a shower.”



“You’ve only got ten minutes.” Zabini spoke up, pointing at the clock. “Better hurry.”



Harry nodded, and trying to look as if he was completely used to it, stooped down to open a trunk that he’d never seen before, but had his initials engraved upon it, and dug through a mound of clothing and books to find his school robes and a towel. He was pleasantly surprised to see that his trunk was empty of all oversized hand-me-downs from his cousin Dudley and instead, had clothing that looked as if they might actually fit him.



After retrieving everything he needed, he waved jerkily to Malfoy and Zabini and sidled out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom.



Fifteen minutes later he was rushing down the spiraling staircase to the common room; his bookbag swinging wildly from his elbow and his fumbling hands struggling blindly with his necktie.



Malfoy and Zabini were already walking out of the wall and into the corridor outside, chatting carelessly, and closely followed by Pansy Parkison, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pansy, however, was clinging more than following. Her arms were wrapped possessively around Malfoy’s upper arm and she was admiring Malfoy’s side face raptly. It made Harry want to puke.



Harry sprinted after them, finally managing to get his clothing on straight and chest heaving, caught up with them at the stairs.



Malfoy gave him a reproving look and rolled his eyes.



“Can’t you ever do anything right?” he sighed, stopping and slipping his arm out of Pansy’s death grip to reach over and tug at the lumpy knot in Harry’s tie. Harry personally thought that that was quite an insulting thing to say, considering that they were supposed to be friends. He wouldn’t say that to Ron, and Ron would never say that to him.



He felt himself redden and jerked away.



“I can do my own tie, thanks.” he said defiantly, and fumbled some more with his green and silver tie. He hadn’t had time to look in the mirror, but he imagined that he looked absolutely horrible in Slytherin colors. If only it were nearing summer, then he’d be able to rid his attire of the Slytherin emblem emblazoned robe and tie.



“Then do it right the first time,” Malfoy smirked, tugging once more at Harry’s robes in a somewhat playful manner.



Feeling very aggravated, Harry strode past the group and climbed the stairs up to the ground floor, taking the steps two at a time. Maybe this Malfoy wasn’t so different from the one he knew, after all. He still seemed very unbearable and an unhealthy pain in the arse. Being friends with Malfoy hadn’t been on his wish-list anyway. He could do just as well- no, even better without.



Upon entering the Great Hall that was packed with students and teachers, he instinctively started for the table on the far right, but caught himself just in time. He stood motionless for a few minutes, fists clenched and mouth working hard against the desire to simply ditch Slytherin all together and announce his allegiance to Gryffindor. Perhaps if he tried a resorting, the hat would put him in Gryffindor, where he actually belonged.



He felt an extreme longing when he saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the middle of the long table, talking heartily and laughing when Ron accidentally flicked some jam onto his own face in an attempt to spread it on his toast. Hermione was smiling as she bent over the fruit bowl with a paper napkin in her hand to wipe it off. Ron blushed a bit and he tried to lean back without making it look too awkward. Harry imagined himself with them. It was a day since he’d talked to Ron, but he was already missing him like crazy.



“Harry!” a voice snapped from behind him. He whirled around and found that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins had entered the Great Hall too. “What are you doing? Come on.”



Glancing once more at his former best friends, he slumped resignedly and followed after Malfoy, never noticing the frown on Zabini’s face as he walked past. They sat down at the table to the far left and began loading their plates with breakfast.



“Potions,” Harry moaned when he saw his day schedule, munching hungrily on his buttered toast. “Ugh.”



Things weren’t looking to good and it was still morning. He then wondered curiously if the Snape in this life hated him just as much as in the other life.



Probably, he thought sourly, looking up at the teacher’s table where Snape and his sallow skin and greasy hair was sipping from his goblet slowly, eyes roving over the heads of the students. Even if some things were better, Snape’s hatred for his father was more likely to be the same.



Sooner than he would have liked, he was dragging his feet along the main corridor, down the stairs back to the Slytherin dungeons, past Snape’s office, and into the dim and dank Potions classroom. Owing to the fact that there were no windows to let in sunlight, and that the only source of heat was coming from the meager sticks of wax floating around the room, it was very, very cold. Harry could see his breath coming out in white puffs.



He followed Malfoy to the back of the classroom on the Slytherin side, and reluctantly sat down in a desk he was sharing with Malfoy. Blaise and Pansy claimed the desk behind them, and Crabbe and Goyle squished themselves into the one behind that. The room looked considerably different from this side, Harry noted none too happily. And it wasn’t a surprise, as he was surrounded by sneering Slytherins and not the cheerful raucous of the Gryffindors.



Harry couldn’t help but watch as the students clad in scarlet ties, began to trickle through the door in large groups noisily. He felt that now familiar pang in his chest when Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus appeared behind Lavender and Parvati. They seated themselves near the front; Hermione and Neville sharing a table, and Ron joining Dean and Seamus in one of the longer tables near the wall.



Just as they settled down, Snape swept into the class, his face as grim as usual and his black robes and cloak billowing out behind him. Harry scowled.



“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for disrupting class.” Snape said smoothly, and tapped his wand onto the attendance roll on his desk. Harry saw Ron shooting death glares at Snape as he went down the list, calling out names in a cold voice.



The rest of the Slytherins were looking very gleeful at Gryffindors loss, and Harry scowled even more. Damn Slytherins. Damn all of them.



He slouched into his seat moodily and toyed with his quill impatiently as Snape finished up roll and tapped the parchment again, making it pop and disappear into thin air.



“Page three hundred and sixteen,” he said. “And absolute silence until you finish reading it. Those that choose to talk will receive detention.”



The class obediently pulled out their books and simultaneously flipped open to page three hundred and sixteen, and then, there was silence.



Harry didn’t even make the effort to read the tiny scripture on the pages. He was rarely in the mood, and today, he was definitely not. He had too much on his mind.



One, he was still a bit nervous about the whole life switch. Two, he wanted to talk to Ron more than anything, and three, he was very much distracted by the steady in and out of Malfoy’s breath, only a foot away.



He casually snuck a glance at him and studied him for a bit longer than he would have personally liked. Malfoy was very intently reading, his eyes piercing the yellowed pages and flickering back and forth. His cheek resting in his palm and his face turned slightly toward Harry. His sleek blonde hair falling over his eyes and the impatient brush of his free hand on the occasional strand at his forehead.



Malfoy seemed to have felt his gaze because he looked up swiftly and caught his eyes, as if to say, ‘What?’.



Harry immediately felt his ears reddening and turned his head away sharply, pinching himself. When he was composed enough to look back up at the rest of the class, he realized that most were already done reading, and were staring silently at Snape, waiting for the next instructions.



The class was so quiet, that even though Snape was talking in barely a whisper, they could hear every word sharply as if he were shouting them. Crossing his arms, he walked up to the middle aisle, between Gryffindor and Slytherin glared at each and every student, starting at the back row.



“Brown! Patil! Work together.”



The girls looked relieved.



“Crabbe! Goyle!”



They however didn’t look any different from thick.



“Thomas! Finnigan!”



Seamus and Dean grinned.



“Parkison! Nott!”



Pansy frowned disappointedly, but quickly hid it when she caught Harry looking at her.



“Granger! Longbottom! And I expect Longbottom to do every bit of his work, or I will deduct house points.” Snape snarled nastily.



Neville let out a frightened ‘meep!’ but Hermione gave a stony eye to Snape and pursed her lips.



“Malfoy! Zabini!”



Harry sighed with relief at knowing he was not going to be paired with Malfoy and sat up straighter. He noted that he was the only Slytherin left.



A sinister smile spread across Snape’s ugly face, as he paused, glancing slowly back and forth between the Gryffindors and Slytherins.



“Ah yes.” he sneered softly, apparently very pleased. “How perfect.” his beetle black eyes bore into Harry’s. “Potter.... and Weasley.”



Harry’s heart jumped against his ribcage, and the feeling of joy spread through him as he quickly glanced over at Ron, who to his dismay, was looking crestfallen. He might have gone up and hugged Snape for putting them together, if he didn’t hate him first.



“Now get to work!” Snape snarled to the rest of the class when the tension had subsided. There was a loud noise of chairs scraping as the students moved to either sit with their partners or to get up to retrieve their potion ingredients.



Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry made his way across the aisle over to where Ron was sitting by himself and grinned warmly.



“Hey,” he greeted, pulling out chair and sitting down. “Ron, right?”



Ron’s facial muscles clenched as he shrugged. “Yeah,” he said.



“So.” Harry dumped his tattered potions book onto the table, along with his quill and a fresh roll of parchment. “Should I do the logging or do you want to?”



“Don’t care,” was Ron’s apathetic reply.



Harry tried to sound as cheerful as possible. “I guess I’ll do it then.”



“Right. So I’ll go get the stuff...” Ron hastened away from the table to the student cupboard almost as if he wanted to get as far away as possible from Harry.



Duh. He thought sadly. He does want to get away from me. I’m a bloody Slytherin.



He however, made up his mind to talk with Ron as if nothing was different from what Harry was used to. When Ron came back with his arms full of weeds and dead bugs, he launched into a bright conversation about loathing Potions and loving Quidditch, claiming that Gryffindor was sure to win the house cup this year and that he had a hunch that Ron would be receiving some award for Captain. It seemed that his efforts were slowly beginning to thaw Ron’s coldness toward him too, and little by little, the conversation was becoming less one-way, and more back and forth, which thrilled Harry very much.



They were even starting to say jokes about what a big-nosed, greasy-haired pain in the arsehole Snape was, and chuckling quietly behind their hands, and then hunching over their desks with diligent looks on their faces when Snape strode by with his nose upturned.



When Harry looked back up for the fifth time since the beginning of class, his eye roamed over to the Slytherin side and and saw that Malfoy was glaring at him icily, his stiff hands chopping the beetle angrily, sending legs and chunks scattering across the table surface.



At first, it didn’t affect him at all, and it seemed perfectly normal; after all, Malfoy was always glaring or smirking at him and Ron... but then he remembered that wasn’t in Gryffindor and that Ron wasn’t his friend, Malfoy was.



He felt his mood slipping even more and he fell back to scribbling on his parchment in silence. He could still feel Malfoy’s eyes on the back of his neck, but he tried to ignore it.



A few minutes later, he couldn’t help but glance back; Zabini was leaning forward across his desk to whisper something to Malfoy. Both looked very grave, and whatever Zabini was saying to Malfoy was obviously riling him up even more.



Harry wondered what that was all about, as the bell rung and the students began to pack up their bags. Harry waited as Ron gathered his things up, hoping to maybe invite himself along with Ron and Hermione on the next Hogsmeade trip, only two days away.



Hermione came up next to Ron, smiling at him before sending a curt nod to Harry, but Harry would have none of that.



“Hi,” he grinned, extending his hand. He felt extremely foolish acting like strangers to people he knew so well, but it was something he had to do, whether he liked it or not. “Potter. Harry Potter. But you can call me Harry.”



Ron nodded at Hermione encouragingly, and Hermione slowly took his hand and shook it.



“Hermione Granger,” she replied politely. She was eyeing him a bit suspiciously. She quickly let go and stepped closer to Ron.



“I was wondering, do you two want to go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday? I’ve got no one to go with, and I thought it might be fun.” Harry said brightly. Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncertainly.



“Uh...” it seemed that Ron was doing some weighing in his head. He kept glancing at the rest of the Slytherins who were trailing out the door. “I dunno...”



“If it’s any funny business you’ve got planned up your sleeve, we’ll cordially decline.” said Hermione, but Harry shook his head.



“No, I just want to get to know the Gryffindors better. I’m not much of a Slytherin myself, see.” They looked confused.



Hermione frowned. Harry wasn’t sure if she entirely believed him, but she finally agreed after a moment’s pause. “Well then, I suppose so... Interaction between houses is important, after all.” Harry grinned.



“Great,” he replied, hoping that he didn’t look too ecstatic. “Well, I’ll talk to you guys later, then.” And he turned around and strode out of the classroom coolly.



But when he stepped into the corridors, he was met by a very furious Malfoy and a disgusted looking Zabini and Pansy.



“What. Was that.” Malfoy spat, his grey eyes swirling insanely.



Harry furrowed his brows. “What was what?”



“You were chatting with Gryffindors, and Weasley and a mudblood at that.” Malfoy took a dangerous step closer, and Harry could almost see veins throbbing at Malfoy’s pale temple. “And were my ears deceiving me? Or did I actually hear you inviting them to Hogsmeade?”



“Er-” Harry said, suddenly feeling very uneasy. He hadn’t thought of what the aftermath might be of his actions. He cleared his throat and shifted backwards. “Maybe?”



“FUCKING HELL!” Malfoy exploded, his cheeks flaring red. “Why??? Why the bleeding hell did you invite them to Hogsmeade???”



Harry felt his own anger bubbling inside his chest. He took a bold step forward and glared at Malfoy.



“Why shouldn’t I?” he snapped. “I don’t need your bloody permission do I?”



Malfoy hissed like a snake and pushed him accusingly against the wall.



“You’ve got something for that shithead, don’t you?” his eyes were no longer full of fury, they were icy and deadly. Harry recoiled slightly.



Despite the lack of gaiety in the situation, he let out a short, tight-throated laugh.



“You mean, you think I have a thing for Hermione?” He imagined Ron’s face if he’d heard that and snorted further. “Well, sorry to say, but I’m not really interested in her as that...”



“Maybe the Weasel, then?”



There was a pause, and Harry fell silent. He stared back at Malfoy incredulously, not believing what he’d just heard.



“What?” he stammered. He almost crammed his finger into ear to see if he had any earwax buildup.



He saw an exchange between Malfoy and Zabini and Malfoy stepped back, looking a mix of infuriated, betrayed, and hurt.



“Fine.” Malfoy whispered, his face paling. “Have it your way.”



And whirled on his heel and walked away without a backward glance.



Harry was left standing against the wall in the now deserted corridor, not knowing what in the world had just happened.



Me? Like Ron? That had to be the most absurd thing he’d ever heard in his life.



I’m not even GAY!





Please review! And thank you to all who have! Once again, I apologize that this story is slow in the rise, but the plot is quite complex and so it takes that long to get going. Thank you.


Special Thanks To:

Mercika

Reyn

TheHomocidalManiac777

War-chan

Silverblood

THANKS!!!