Title: Hints

Author: Alanis, of course!

ultra100and5@hotmail.com

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: NC-17, for gay sex! .

Disclaimer: I don’t own them!!! Only if you lend me some galleons and sickles to buy Harry and Draco. Pity they are priceless...

Summary: Draco’s in love... and he’s not going to sit there and wait! At summer they start changing letters, and though Harry doesn’t know what’s that all about, and who’s the person he’s changing letters with, he falls in love... SLASH!!!

Chapter 1^st. The letter

"Hi, Harry.

Guess who? Bollocks, you’ll never guess.

But there’s something I want to say to you... God. There’s so much to say.

First, I want to tell you about my... well, how should I say, feelings? Yes. Exactly, my feelings.

I feel everything and nothing; love and hate... different things. But the greatest one is that I admire you. I love you. Truly. Madly. Deeply.

I can almost see your angelic face, your most wonderful green eyes shining with wonder; you’re thinking about who am I.

I’m not going to tell you now... but I’ll give you a hint.

If you answer me.

"Love so full it can send us all ways". Bush. "Chemicals between us"."

The boy wrote a little P.S. and then put the letter into a muggle envelope. After doing so, he switched his CD player off and lay back onto his four-poster bed.

******************************************************************

Harry Potter was sitting on his bed at the Dursleys’, 4, Privet Drive, listening to a muggle CD player.

"I want you to remember

A Love so full it can send us all ways

And I want you to surrender

All my feelings rose today"

One of his favorite songs. Bush, "Chemicals between us". The CD player was a birthday present from Hermione; the girl knew his interests better than himself.

He was singing to himself in unison with the melody, thank god Vernon and Petunia were in the dining room watching TV, and Dudley was at sea with his schoolmates – though Petunia "wanted to spent all the summer with her beloved Dudles", her son insisted on the vacation. So his life after the fifth year was almost great – he wouldn’t count the Dursleys after his defeating Voldemort. But Dumbledore still insisted on his living with muggles, while Sirius was still on the run, but his case was going to be looked through just after the trial on Wormtail in august.

"Chemicals between us, the walls that lie between us, lying in this bed," Harry purred, burying his face in his pillow, enjoying the music. It was overwhelming his insides; his heart, his soul, his mind were full of it. He’d never thought he could feel something of such passion.

Suddenly he heard the door spring open, so loudly that Harry heard it even trough his earflaps.

"YOU! A letter! For you!" Harry jumped on his bed and caught the letter his uncle threw at him. Vernon was already out; he tried to contact with Harry as little as possible.

Harry shrugged and stopped the music. He looked at the envelope; a muggle envelope. His address was written in the perfect muggle way, but without the sender’s address.

Harry was surprised by the fact, but tore the letter open and took out a piece of paper with straight handwriting.

Harry started reading, his eyebrows rising more with every next sentence.

"Hi, Harry. Guess who? Bollocks, you will never guess. But there’s something I want to say to you... God. There’s so much to say.

I can almost see your angelic face, your most wonderful green eyes shining with wonder; you’re thinking about who am I. I’m not going to tell you now... but I’ll give you a hint. If you answer me.

Hey. That was mysterious. Harry felt intrigued. Who could be so much in love with him? Or it’s just a joke?

He took out a piece of parchment and wrote:

He put the letter in the same envelope and laid back on the bed, covering with a blanket, and went off to sleep.

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes, reminding himself he was at home, not at Hogwarts.

He’d never thought his vacation would turn out as total crap. The drama in his family spoiled his life to the root, his beloved father had died just before Voldemort’s falling of power. It seemed *so* unfair...

His mother got herself locked in her shell, without any possibility to get out of it even to say hello to her own son.

Draco went down the old, carpeted staircase and into the Manor gardens. Dad used to love it.

Beautiful gardens.

Draco spit on the floor. Shit with the gardens.

Now he was deep inside his own depression to think of something except his father, and Harry. As usual...

Yeah. Certainly, the first day of holidays was the *best* day of my life, Draco thought sarcastically. Could he feel happier than now, with his father dead, his mother unable to deal with it... here, alone, with only a pack of cigarettes in his left pocket and a muggle lighter in the right? No, never.

Draco sighed again and took out a cigarette. Seating himself on his favorite bench he started wondering how could he become fallen for Harry in such a little amount of time. He wasn’t sure when exactly he started thinking of the Gryffindor in such a different way, but if he tried, he could remember.

He smirked at the first memory.

The last week of his fifth year. Not long ago; but his feelings have changed quite a lot since that time.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were at Hagrid’s, who was petting that mad hippogriff, and Sirius Black, who returned to Hogwarts for a piece of consultation with Dumbledore. He was almost free now, only the trial was left to confirm Wormtail’s guilt and his innocence. And then he could take Harry to live with him.

Draco was wandering around the school grounds, tired of his bodyguards, seeking some fun or just anything interesting to watch, when he noticed the trio with the two other men.

He looked at laughing Harry with hate. He despised him, yes, he did... Used to do.

Hagrid was even happier than ever, feeding his pet and laughing on the others’ jokes. And Sirius Black has now retrieved his flying motorbike to travel through the Wizarding world.

‘Impressive,’ Draco thought, exploring the motorbike from the certain distance.

One hand of the black-haired man was resting on his machine, and the second was holding his godson’s shoulder, smiling broadly... and then Draco noticed. His godson looked... wow.

No, not really *very* good, just... cute. No glasses. No robes. Just muggle clothes: shirt and jeans. Simple for muggles, but... quite interesting for the wizards, Draco noted. And in comparison with his old cloths some sizes bigger than his own... Hmm, *really* nice.

Actually, Draco realized he was attracted to boys in the middle of his fourth year, but now he was sure he’d been too young to understand who was really pretty and who was not, and found himself involved with both Blaise Zabini* and Pansy Parkinson, who still hoped for something. At last he got rid of Pansy and spent some months with the only gay of Slytherin (except himself, of course).

Now he was much smarter in the way of choosing boyfriends, for sure.

‘Nice ass, Potter’, he thought. ‘Congra-tu-lations, you’ve got... hell, you’re a giant, man!’

That was all for then. But what happened later just knocked him out.

Draco was sitting on the bench on the platform ten, waiting for his mum to pick him up and travel back to the Malfoy Manor. All the Hogwarts students already left, only Potter with almost desperate expression on the pretty face was sitting on another bench, talking to his owl. He was afraid that the Dursleys would not come and take him home on 4 Privet Drive, and he had no muggle money to travel back by himself.

In his muggle cloths, just as pretty as a few days ago. Draco felt something warm flood into his veins and all through his body, and the calmness at the sight of this boy made his head dizzy and he found himself in a very good mood, able to do whatever he wanted.

Oh no. He did find Potter attractive.

He sat down near him and asked matter-of-factly:

"Do you mind my sitting here, Potter?"

The Gryffindor eyed him from head to foot and shrugged. The grim expression of his face cooled Draco a little. Harry was hiding his surprise, wondering what the hell was Malfoy doing next to him on the deserted platform.

"Waiting for muggles, Potter?" Malfoy was obviously trying to start a conversation. The blond boy opened his handbag and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He enjoyed smoking for a year already; it made him feel cool and independent, and it calmed in depression or hysteria when he felt on the edge. To is own disappointment, he liked those states. Nothing mattered in such periods, only cigarettes, a quill, a piece of parchment and loud music... *really* loud music.

"Want one?" he broke the silence once again, still wishing to speak with Harry. Was he trying to flirt?.. No-o, that would be too pathetic. Just a chat will do. //Why would I want to talk to him? Sit with him? Give him a cigarette? But it seems that a ciggie’s the exact thing he needs for now – he’s in a deep depression, not less...//

Draco was right. Harry nodded in response and almost tore the cigarette out of the other boy’s fingers, lightened it with his own lighter, dragged in and nodded again as a ‘thank you’.

Draco was surprised by the actions. Seemed Potter was the same regular smoker as himself.

"Hey, why aren’t you happy? You’ve defeated You-know-who and your godfather’s free. By the way, why are you waiting for muggles if he’s..." Draco’s speech was stopped by the boy sitting next to him. Harry’s famous wand was pointing straight on Draco’s heart, and he looked at the other boy with shock and horror.

"Listen, Malfoy, one more word about my godfather or Voldemort and I will curse you right here and right now!.. Wanna check out the Cruciatus curse on your own skin? Don’t think you’ll enjoy it you stupid git!"

Malfoy watched the boy’s face carefully. The hysterical mood he was in now was a quite familiar one to Draco.

"Oh, calm down, Potter," he said softly, but then exasperation showed itself. "I’m not Voldemort, or some fucking Death Eater. I was just trying to be civil because you’re the only person on this fucking platform I could talk and share a smoke with, and I was bored. What is the matter with you?"

Harry’s hand shivered. He put the wand down and turned away from the watching Slytherin.

"Sorry," sobbed Harry.

‘God, please don’t cry Harry. Oh, don’t! You’re really on the edge here...’

Harry was in the deep depression. Felt like The Dark Lord had cursed him just before he died, to become unlucky and lonely, even lonelier then he’s been before.

The Dursleys seemed to dump him; he quarreled with his best friend; Sirius still was on the run though the trial was going to be held in august...

His mental state was rotting his insides, he was slowly decaying, and he needed someone to take him out of it. And now when Malfoy reminded him about Voldemort, and his Godfather, and muggles... Why the fuck would he feel happy?!

Malfoy was still looking at him; his misty eyes contained wonder, guilt, pity and concern. Surprising enough for the person who’s been insulting you for the last five years.

He never managed to comfort the boy, though; just as he dropped his cigarette his mother appeared with a couple of house elves and persuaded him to go.

"You’re late," Draco mumbled and stood up. The elves took his luggage and went towards the car. Draco nodded to Harry and followed them.

And now (later the day he was sitting in the gardens), in the early evening in the middle of July, he was sitting on his bed, listening to Bush, and writing a letter to Harry. It was highly amusing if not for Draco’s seriousness. It was the first time he was so sure in his feelings...

He finished the letter and asked his owl to deliver it to the muggle post office. Then he nestled under his blanket and thought through the letter he’d just written. What the hell could he hint about himself?! The idea just came into his mind, and he wrote the words never minding what he would write in the next letter, if Harry would answer him, of course.

What could he tell about himself, not so obvious to guess at once? There was nothing mysterious about him!

‘I should think it through later’, he thought and fell into a deep sleep, though it was still quite early.

In the morning Draco got up to find a letter waiting for him at the bedside table. His heartbeat fastened and he tore off the envelope.

Harry’s handwriting felt like something intimate to him. And the response was *very* quick.

He read the reply and smiled. But what about the hint?! He still had no idea what to tell Harry. So he would just write... something.

He took a clean piece of parchment and his favorite quill.

Harry woke up in a perfect mood. He’d never felt so alive, especially after the hysterical moods in the beginning of his holiday. Harry stretched and smiled. Then he remembered the setter he got just yesterday evening.

He turned on the stomach and fell deep into thought. Who the hell could write him? Actually, there was nothing shocking that the ‘Secret Admirer’ knew his muggle address; eventually, all Wizarding world happened to know it. Harry laughed at his own thoughts. Definitely, he was too happy this morning.

But the question remained.

"Hey Hedwig, can you imagine someone who loves me? Who do you think it is? Ginny Weasley?"

The owl squeaked "no". Harry agreed with his pet. Ginny was too shy to send him a love letter; even if she managed to overcome her character she would send it with Errol or Pig.

"I still think it is a girl. Noone except Ron and Herm, and, of course, Sirius knows that I like boys." Harry continued his talking to himself, as Hedwig ignored her master’s speech and started cleaning her feathers.

"Hey, I think I should stop talking to myself, especially aloud," he said. "I’m going nuts." And he laughed again. He didn’t want to admit even to Hedwig that the sudden letter made his day and removed his depression almost completely. The idea that he was being loved by someone: no matter if it was a joke, it felt just... fine. He was never loved, I mean, loved in the full meaning of it. Not in a friendly or parental way, but just... loved.

Harry found himself longing for a boyfriend. He’d never had one in his life, though Hogwarts was just full of boys he would be honored to go out with. He just felt nothing... When they played spin-a-bottle and he had to kiss Parvati for two minutes. It went totally blank.

"Hello now we are bored," he said aloud again. Hedwig looked at the boy suspiciously, and he just smirked in response.

He started talking with himself after his encounter with Malfoy on the platform. He was surprised to see Malfoy smoking with just the same pleasure as himself, and he may have talked to him in quite a friendly, well, at least civil way, if not for his terrible hysteria. It was almost forgotten by now, but still he sometimes felt mentally unbalanced, and tried to keep himself still, and talking to himself aloud helped a lot, just as Bush and some other bands he enjoyed. And now he just got used to it; it felt not as lonely as before when he got ‘someone’ to talk to.

Harry stood up and opened the window. A morning fag would be nice now, and he withdrew a pack from his drawer. He started guessing again. Girls.

Parvati Petal? No, not her style. By the way, she is involved with the new Hufflepuff seeker, Jack Anderson.

Lavender Brown? Definitely not! Harry grinned at the memory. Once he was walking down the corridor on the third floor, back from Hogsmeade where he was seeing his Godfather. He saw Lavender in the deserted DADA classroom with (who would have thought?!) Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker he seemed to like in his fourth year. They were fully undressed and doing something a lot less interesting than quidditch. Harry’s smile turned into a sarcastic smirk and he went on with his guessing.

Hermione? The less possible idea of all.

Another girls? Maybe, but the one who wrote the letter was frankly hinting that they were acquainted, if not close together.

Now boys... Hmm, that would be quite a laugh if it was someone he knew well!

Seamus Finnigan? Ha! He’s a prankster, no touch of even hidden romance in his character. Harry snickered at the thought that the Irish boy would write the words of love to his mate.

Dean Thomas? Yes, that was quite possible. And he would write him in the muggle way as soon as he was muggle-born. He should remember it.

Neville? The same as Ginny – too shy, though if he would feel something like that to a person he would most definitely act just like this...

Hell, this may still be a joke of Fred and George! Though Harry had a feeling it wasn’t.

Suddenly he heard a loud "POP" on his bed and turned his head. The same enchanted envelope with the same straight handwriting was lying on his black blanket, contrasting with the whole atmosphere of the room.

Harry stood up from the windowsill, threw the cigarette out and walked towards the letter. Yes. It was from his ‘Secret Admirer.’ Harry immediately cancelled Dean Thomas from his ‘possible sender’ list – he would not send the letter in such a surprising, definitely magical way.

Harry unwrapped the neat piece of parchment and read the letter. New thoughts appeared in his mind. He felt himself a Sherlock Holmes, investigating a case of the unknown personality. ‘A case of The hint’. Harry was unmistakably in a good mood today, he was looking at everything in an amused, positive way.

"Let’s try to figure it out," Harry said aloud. He needed to reread it, definitely, he admitted to himself. Then he read the first sentence aloud.

"What does it give us? He’s not joking. Indeed. Huh." It was much fun to him investigating the admirer’s personality. Especially after the boring days with the Dursleys.

You know me quite well, but it’s not real me. ("What does she, or he mean?") My hint is I’m not the one who knows *you* well. I want to get to know you. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.

"Well, quite a misty hint, isn’t it?"

I’m going to show you my true self and to get to know yours. Please keep answering me. An extra hint ("Oh, maybe that would explain something!") : I’m not exactly the same that I’ve been for years, especially in my attitude to you and many other things.

"So. It may be anyone. Anyone can change... Hmm. The pal’s quite serious." Harry chuckled. He felt a little foolish because of his own mood. Like he was drunk or something.

"Hell, begs. Cannot deny a person who begs." Harry fetched another cigarette and lightened it. Then got a clean parchment and a quill from his school trunk and finished the last sentences.

"Yeah. The song’s great, pal, totally agree."

"Ooh." The last words made Harry’s heart beat faster. His sarcastic mood disappeared at once. The boy was flattered. Whoever the sender was – he was a hopeless romantic. Or just trying to be such. Harry hardly knew anyone who was capable of such wonderful words. Harry felt tenderness towards is admirer, whoever-he(or she)-was.

Yes. He should clear something right now before he started falling for the writer... "What? A couple of romantic words and you’re ready?!" Harry quarreled with himself. "Don’t be ridiculous! You just need to know the sex of this fucking romantic, that’s all!"

Harry started writing and put the cigarette down on his table.

When he was finished, he glanced at the table and cursed himself. A big black burnt spot was surrounding the cigarette butt. Harry hastily threw the cigarette out and reread the finished letter.

Not bad. And absolutely honest. Maybe even too honest.

Hell, he doesn’t even know who the person is. So he needn’t bother about her feelings (if she’s a girl, and he was 99 percent sure in it).

As soon as he put the parchment into the envelope, it disappeared with the same popping sound. Weird way of exchanging letters. He should ask about it in his next letter. ‘If there is a next letter. And it’s almost impossible for the admirer to be a boy. So I shouldn’t bother that much.’

And Harry took out his Firebolt and started cleaning it, trying to throw all the thoughts about the exchange from his head.

Draco was in the shower, singing.

It was something he greatly enjoyed, but he would never admit it to anyone he knew, even to his own mother.

He was standing in the bath naked, face up to meet the hot streams, arms spread above his head and water was pouring down on him, leaving his pale skin red. Blond hair, a tone darker when wet, were emphasizing the angelic face as he was choking with the water still trying to make some sounds.

"New, what do you own the world? – pfh – How do you own – ffph – disorder, disorder, now, somewhere between – phf – brr – the sacred silence, sacred silence and sleep – hrr - Disorder – phf – Disooorder, Disoooooorder!!!" Draco felt water flood into his nose and immediately stopped screaming and started blowing his nose hastily to get rid of the painful feeling.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!.." he switched the water off and reached for his favorite blue towel.

He stepped into his slippers and looked at himself in a large mirror. ‘Yeah. Nice shape,’ Draco congratulated himself, checking the perfect body from every angle.

He dried his wet hair and returned to his bedroom. After switching on the music, he dressed and sat down at the working table. Today he enjoyed listening to his voice even more than before. His father used to tell he had a terrible voice and absolutely no talent in music. Draco agreed, but hell, everyone has a hobby! He just needed to practice, that’s all!

And he practiced. In the bathroom.

Draco propped his chin up with his fists and started guessing about Harry’s answer. ‘What if he wouldn’t write? No, he surely would. He’s been intrigued, he said that himself. I hope he will not ask something too plain about me. I’m not ready to reveal the secret... maybe some another hint would do... Depends on what he will write. But what else can I tell him, something as neutral as the previous thing.’ Then another problem stroke him.

What if Harry’s *not gay*?! What if he’s absolutely straight, so deeply straight that Draco had no chance just because of the tiny little thing like sexuality?!

Draco felt despaired. 99 percent out of 100 he’s straight.

"God, Harry, what the hell can I do to change you?! You won’t even look at me. Hell, poor me." Draco took out a cigarette and lit it. Smoke filled his room, reaching the high ceiling. He didn’t bother smoking at home; mother was three floors lower in her bedroom and she hardly ever visited his room.

He dragged in deeply, eyes shut.

The problem was heavily lying on top of him. The exchange seemed to defeat his depression, at least make it go away, but now it reappeared with the same force.

Suddenly a loud POP intruded Draco’s thinking.

He jumped up and ran to his bed.

Harry’s answer! Great. He never thought this envelope would be so useful... Draco found it in his father’s study a week before the idea of writing to Harry visited his mind. The exchange was really quick. Draco opened the envelope with trembling hands.

Draco dropped the letter and started jumping around the room like a complete nutter.

"Yeah, Harry, yeah, I should have known," he started singing, using the melody of "Toxicity", and grimaced happily at himself when reached the mirror in his mad dance.

He felt an urge to fly, to scream out everything that was on his mind, he wanted to laugh, to cry, to roar and to make a somersault at the same time. Draco retrieved hid Nimbus from under the bed and swung the large window open.

The wind met his hot face, pleasurably cooling it with unusual force for the hot mid-July weather. Draco with a wide smile made a huge flip down, and then turned his broom up again almost straightly perpendicular to the ground, flying around the same gardens he was sitting in two days ago.

He thanked all gods, wizards alive and dead, and of course, his own sharpness for starting writing to Harry... they had much to tell each other and, well... maybe in the end he could become his boyfriend in reality, not in letters.

That was a pleasant idea. But Draco felt himself rather stupidly. //Hell, I’ve fallen for Harry Potter. And want him to become my boyfriend.// For the first time since he recognized his feelings he was clearly seeing all the ridiculousness of such a situation.

Draco slowed his movements and landed in the middle of the gardens. A huge amount of different thoughts visited his mind and left him confused. The hysteria was back.

//Right, facing the facts... I should calm down, I have all chances to be with Harry, but do I really want to be with him... Should I continue exchanging letters with the one I... well, love, this is the sure thing I’ve already admitted... It’s just, impossible. Too much to face. Hell with fucking Voldemort, he’s dead, thank gods... thank Harry. But the friends, the whole school, and what if he simply won’t have me? The fact he’s gay as myself doesn’t mean we are meant to be together.//

Draco stood up and approached the old stony swimming pool surrounded by tall birches and flower-beds with roses. He undressed completely and jumped into the warm water. It refreshed him a bit, and he dived under the water, forgetting that he just had a shower.

Draco was back in his room half an hour later, urging for a smoke. He dried his hair and sat down on his bad, looking at the unanswered letter.

He wanted to answer.

He didn’t want confrontations.

He had to admit that he would not forget Harry till school starts. And then he will have to face him. Every day. Such a pain to see his body a few feet away and not be able to touch him.

Fuck. //Don’t think about his ass.//

He hypnotized the envelope for yet another ten minutes with a frown on his face. Finally, he reached for a quill.

Was it too fucking sappy?

Draco sighed and put the letter into the magical envelope and watched it disappear with the familiar POP. He did want to find out what he could have and what he couldn’t.

So why should he be telling about his life? Interests? To persuade Harry he was absolutely honest?

Then another thought crept into his mind, a lot more pleasant then the former ones. Is Harry a virgin?

Draco smiled slyly. He was a dreamer deep in heart and a little funny plot of shy and confused Harry in bed with him, The-Boy-Who-Had-Sex-Once, made his mood less miserable. He remembered his first sex with Blaise. Not too bed to get fucked by a handsome, well-occupied boy but he was surely not a slightest comparison to Harry. Draco sighed. He was fully aroused by now.

He opened the drawer of his table and started quickly seeking for something among the parchments, school books and old quills. //I should tidy up here.//

Finally he got an old copy of The Daily Prophet dated to last winter. The first page was showing him the moving picture of Cedric Diggory, Victor Krum, Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter. The four Champions of the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry in the middle, fitting his glasses, faintly attempting to smile, obviously without any wish to be pictured for the newspaper. His robes unbuttoned, showing the collar of his shirt. Eyes looking right into Draco’s own, shining with honesty, bravery and nobleness.

Draco breathed out, finding it difficult as if it was real Harry in front of him. No more fighting. He should not be in denial any more, if he was seriously going to date Harry.

The boy unzipped his pants and threw them down along with the green silken boxers (the color reminded him of Harry’s eyes), freeing his erection, eyes still on Harry from the Prophet.

First stroking lightly, then more roughly, Draco closed his eyes, reminding himself the pictures of Harry’s body, fantasizing of his nakedness. He’d never wished to have someone in his life. Kiss his lips, stroke his chest, touch his hips, enter him...

Chapter 5. Let’s start over

Harry couldn’t help thinking about love.

His heart was filled with joy and he knew what was the reason, but still he didn’t want to admit it. Love was something unknown and forbidden for him, like Dudley’s computer or life without the Dursleys. He desperately needed to have someone near, someone to hold, to kiss, to, hmm, make love to...

And this someone was awfully romantic and had the same tastes as the person in the letters, and in Harry’s subconscious’ dreams he had blond hair and gray eyes. Definitely.

After Malfoy went off with his mother that day on the platform, Harry was left crying and curious. The rival was going to comfort him, if not for his mother... Harry remembered he was almost ready to curse Narcissa for taking her son away. Draco had something special about him, like an aura of attractiveness surrounding his body, and Harry couldn’t help remembering the concern in the Slytherin’s eyes after he snapped out.

"I shouldn’t have pointed my wand at him." Harry said, listening to his own voice, sounding amazingly calm. He was tired of rushing, running, preparing himself for attacks. "I should have talked to him. Even flirted with him... He’s not bad at all. I feel it. And I *need* a boyfriend..."

The wonderful sense of understanding himself overwhelmed Harry and he closed his eyes, putting his Firebolt aside.

He just got a letter from Remus Lupin who’s been his personal psychologist for a year and a half already, amazingly helping with his mental problems. More than his friends, more than Sirius and even Dumbledore. He advised the boy to auto-train himself and find something good in everything. So now Harry was concentrating on his nerves and thoughts, breathing in deeply, thinking about both thousand things and nothing at once.

"I have a great life. I will get a boyfriend as soon as I return to Hogwarts. I’m going to apologize to Ron. I’m being loved by someone who writes to me..." Harry continued whispering.

A familiar POP intruded Harry’s quiet talking.

"I’m really mad if I need such a thing to get me out of depression," Harry said and rushed to the magical envelope and opened it. "I wonder why she wrote again... I told her... What?"

"Well that is quite interesting," Harry muttered. "Speak of the devil... Hell, it’s just the thing I wanted. No more denial! I’m going to date him."

Harry put the letter off without even bothering to read the rest and started to write his reply.

He watched the letter disappear and then noticed that he didn’t finish reading the boy’s reply. He immediately went on.

Harry broke off, frowning with wonder. No one, even Ron and Hermione knew that he was a regular smoker.

No one... except... Malfoy.

Harry shook his head. No, no, that is impossible. Hell, anyone could notice him smoking by the lake and not tell anyone.

The other facts seemed innocent and quite common, except muggle-hating. Another intriguing thing. So the boy is most certainly from Slytherin, and perhaps from Ravenclaw, though there were only a couple muggle-haters in that house.

A small voice somewhere in the back of his head smiled and said: he can be Malfoy. "I know he can. But he’s not."

Never mind who he is. Harry just wanted no more complications by now. "No matter who he is, he’s my boyfriend now. And I’ll be waiting for his reply. And now I will write to Ron, apologize to him and start my life over."

With these words Harry took a clean piece of parchment and started writing a letter to his best friend.

~~~

At the very moment Draco was stroking himself, imagining how it would feel if it was Harry’s hand on his cock, softly caressing its hardness. Draco rolled his eyes, shivering, still holding Harry’s picture from the Daily prophet. The faces of the other three champions were covered by beautifully written Harry’s names and hearts.

"God Harry, oh, fucking hell Harry!!!!!" he screamed as he came over the photo. The exact second he was coming the door to his room opened and Narcissa Malfoy entered with a blank expression on her face.

Though the picture in front of her eyes changed it immediately to a shocked one. It took her a couple of seconds to acknowledge what’s been happening here. The ex-Ravenclaw was still very smart...

Her son, half-naked, jeans and boxers down his legs, hands on his quite awesome erection, spilling seed all over a picture of... (Narcissa looked at the cut paper properly) ...Harry Potter?! And shouting his name!?

"Draco?!" she managed to ask harshly.

The boy, still breathing heavily in the afterglow, turned his head and met his mother’s gray eyes, identical to his own. They both were completely stunned and stood in the same position for the next couple of minutes.

Draco was first to react. He broke the gaze and hastily pulled up his boxers and jeans, still holding the seed-covered picture.

"Fuck!" he muttered and placed the piece of paper back into his drawer. Then he looked back at his mother, blushing the color of a ripe tomato. His mother looked not much better. She turned to the door on the heels and ran out of the room, leaving a light smell of lilac perfume.

Draco stared at the open door for a few minutes and brought his trembling hand to his eyes.

He was mesmerized, but not that his mother was now aware of his obsession. No. He was mesmerized by the fact she’d just entered his room, like she was his friend, his mother in the full meaning of it, who was just going to call her son for dinner.

Speaking of dinner. He had nothing to eat today and felt really hungry for the first time during his holiday. Draco sighed and checked his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Forehead still a bit wet from the sweat, clothes done hastily and untidily... Draco changed and checked the clock. High time for dinner. He was just about exciting the room when the sound on his bed caught his attention. The letter!

Draco turned back and opened the envelope.

Draco’s heart flipped and started beating quickly.

"We’re boyfriends," Draco’s head went dizzy as he whispered in disbelief. "Harry Potter is my *fucking boyfriend*!!!" The last words were shouted as loud as Harry’s name fifteen minutes ago.

Draco jumped up and put the parchment into his pocket.

Life was becoming wonderful. Harry was his boyfriend, memories of Luscius were gone, mother... Mother! An idea lightened Draco’s mind.

He will become friends with his mother. They all had been through the dark times. Now the new life should begin. The blond ran out of his room towards the dining Hall on the second floor of the Malfoy Manor. That was the favorite room of his Mother, and it was most likely to see her having dinner there now.

Draco, sweaty from the run, appeared in the dining Hall a few minutes later, facing his mother who was calmly eating the soup. He flew towards her and sat down across from the woman, pouring himself a plateful of mushroom soup, ignoring the house elves who were trying to help him with the food.

He coughed and started, "Mother, I want to talk to you."

Narcissa raised her head from the plate and looked at the boy. God, how she loved him. Her only son, she’d had no access to him since he was 3 years old. She was lonely in this house, forced to watch her son being spoilt by the richness, taught the dark ways, dreadfully punished for not behaving in the way his father told him.

"Yes?" she answered in a slightly wheezy voice. She was surprised that his son was speaking to her, especially after this afternoon. She shouldn’t have entered his room without knocking...

"Mum," Draco smiled nervously, "Can you forgive me for what happened today?"

Narcissa opened her eyes widely.

"Oh, Draco. Of course. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know... You’re a teenager, and with all the hormones..." she said as soft as she could.

Now it was Draco’s turn of wide eyes.

"You... You’re not mad at me? And... You don’t mind that I’m in love with Harry? That I’m gay?"

"Of course not. You’re my son, Draco, I love you!"

Draco rushed from his place to hug his mother. She returned the hug with tears in her eyes.

"I’m sorry for not being there for you, Drac, all these years. Your father wouldn’t let me to."

"Can we be friends, mum?" Draco was feeling like a child again, nestled in his mother’s protective arms.

"Of course, baby."

"Oh, mum! Please, cut that out! I’m not a child any more!" Draco smiled and that smile was returned.

"We’ll start over, son. And now, tell me about you and Harry."

Draco told his mother even less than he wanted to. No matter they were friends now, he still felt confused and maybe even ashamed to talk to his mother about lusting after another boy.

Like he really felt ashamed of being with Harry. Ha! Harry was the best. No one could disturb his heart but him, no one could lead him to such a crazy idea like writing to a boy without even doubting what would come next. Harry made everything worthy enough.

They were boyfriends for two weeks already, and Draco wondered how he’d managed to hold on without telling Harry who he was. In fact, he even couldn’t tell what was the color of his hair or eyes, even describing his shape would be a step towards revealing the secret. Draco still was not ready. Yet.

//Tomorrow is the 31^st of July. Harry’s 16^th birthday. What could I probably send him?// That was another problem bothering the blond boy. His mother gave him a thousand proposals of probable gifts, but with all his love for mother it was up to Draco what to give to his boyfriend.

They were already using pet names on each other, or flirting, or being tender – Harry, who’s never been loved enough, was now pouring all his untold feelings onto him.

But still he had some other questions, now from Harry himself, and they were hanging over him, pulling him deep into thought. Harry was asking for a date. In every letter (and they exchanged twice a day, sometimes even three or four times) the boy hinted softly how much he would desire to kiss him, to hold him, to *see* him. That was too much for Draco. Especially the last letter dated to the yesterday evening.

The words really disturbed Draco. He wanted to date Harry. So fucking much. The urge to feel him brought his mind and body into a restless state of constant arousal, every time he heard the faint POP of the appearing letter, his cock jumped upwards at that instant, stretching his boxers, begging for release.

//Oh fuck!// Draco’s mind immediately started to show the "hand-made" porno film, starring: Harry J. Potter and Draco L. Malfoy. And Draco never managed to switch the channel.

Should he write to Harry about it? Be absolutely honest? ‘Harry, Love, I want you. And HOW I want you.’ Yeah, another perfect latter, thought Draco sarcastically while masturbating for the third time this day.

The question remained. A birthday present for Harry.

Draco got dressed and took some floo powder from a little silver box on his shelf. Five minutes later he was already in the Leaky Cauldron, saying Hi to Tom and thinking about Harry again.

The perfect present is the end of Summer without the Dursleys. //Mom would love to see Harry at the Manor. But I don’t want him to know who I am...// Another is a date. Can’t be done because of the same reason. Draco got out a picture of Harry in his room at the Dursleys’. He was grinning at him, sending kisses, near the open window, and the room was very poor in comparison with Draco’s.

Especially the bed.

The bed was what Draco loved in his room most, and, besides that, had a beautiful taste in choosing different furniture for the house. He found the talent of decorating a week ago when Narcissa offered him to redecorate the Manor. The walls were already being covered with the light-colored wallpapers, all of the windows open, candles replaced by huge amounts of magical lamps, corridors decorated with flowers...

Harry’s bed.

First: small. Compared to Harry’s height, it looked like it’s been made for a child of five.

Second: narrow. How could Harry sleep in such a narrow bed?! He could just fall on the floor if had a nightmare, or ... a wet dream.

Third: stiff. He couldn’t see that from the picture, but Harry once mentioned that when he was telling him about the house he’s been living since childhood. Perhaps this point was the worst. A thought of Harry tossing and turning, even if uncomfortable, on his bed, made Draco excited again. He shook his head and stood up from the bar and left the inn for Diagon Alley.

~~8~~

Harry woke up at seven o’clock.

It was his 16^th birthday today and he felt so excited about the presents for the first time in his life. Because instead of the usual four of presents from Ron, Hermione, Sirius and Hagrid there were going to be five.

A present from his mysterious boyfriend. Harry’s lips stretched in a satisfied, cat-like smile as he remembered the yesterday letter.

Harry sighed. As usual, the date topic carefully avoided. Though he had nothing to complain about. His boyfriend was gentle, loving, had a wonderful sense of humor, pretty straight handwriting, lovely style of building sentences, and Harry could not imagine him being fat, short, with greasy hair and small eyes. "He’s beautiful, I’m sure," Harry said out loud.

He heard the noise from the window and rushed to open it. Four owls – his own Hedwig from the present from Sirius, Ron’s Pig, a school owl from Hagrid and Hermione’s Hunter (Harry bought him for her as a birthday present last year, and Crookshanks happily stayed at home).

Harry unwrapped Ron’s package and laughed. A set of underwear. "Oh Ronald, you’re a naughty little git!" Harry explored three pairs of boxers, red with the snitches, green with broomsticks and... black with red hearts?!.. Huh, very nice. Harry imagined what would be the reaction of his boyfriend if he discovered Harry was wearing such underwear. Come at the spot, perhaps. Another snicker escaped Harry’s mouth.

He knew well what was hiding behind the words ‘I want to kiss you, touch you, undress you...’ Not that Harry objected; but he didn’t tell the boy he was a virgin. It never seemed to matter. As for Harry himself, he got aroused reading just a few sentences containing the words ‘love’, ‘kiss’, ‘touch’ or ‘undress’.

Hagrid sent him another stony cake, and Sirius – a set of beautifully done magical impermanent tattoos which could be washed or moved to any place on skin.

Hermione’s present was a book. Harry snorted, "As usual." But then read the title and gasped.

Harry opened his mouth at a picture of two men age of 18 or 19 holding hands and smiling from the cover. He instinctively opened the book and started reading. He looked through the first chapters about the denial and choosing a boyfriend and went on to the sex, feeling a bit nervous.

A colored and... moving picture of entwined male bodies made Harry shiver, and tiny drops of sweat covered his forehead. ‘First, find a comfortable place where you both will feel safe in. Better at your own home so you can overcome the nervousness. Try to arrange your time in the way you will not have to rush. The slower you go the better you will feel. Try to choose your first partner carefully, the best alternative is your boyfriend whom you’ve known and dated for a long time, whom you trust and – would be the best – love.’

Harry breathed in. At home... he looked around his room skeptically. His eyes stopped on the bed. It was too narrow and short for one, let alone for two boys. No, he couldn’t invite his boyfriend here and have sex with him. Though he very much wanted it. He was nearly in love.

Harry went on with reading. Checked out different positions, ways of prelude, different lubricant and undressing spells. The book was a pure treasure. "Hermione, you’re ... God, who would have thought *you* of all people would give me such a book?!"

A ring at the door intruded his excited thoughts, and he checked his watch in surprise. Ten already! He’s been reading for nearly three hours! Harry heard Vernon’s shout, "Harry! Open the door, you lazy!!!" and exited his room.

A man in a blue uniform was standing in front of him.

"Mr. Harry Potter?" a man asked.

"Yes, that’s me."

"Happy birthday, sir. My name is Josh, I’m from ‘The Wizarding delivery’, work for the Diagon alley shop line. Here you are." The man smiled and shoved him a pink box with a black silky ribbon. "Sign here, please. And I’m about to give you some instructions. I suppose you never used magical furniture?"

"No... Furniture?!" Harry signed where he was asked and stared at the pink box. He could not imagine any kind of furniture that could be kept in this box.

"Yes. You just press on the red spot and it enlarges till it reaches its original size. Well, I should leave now, good day, Mr. Potter!" the man disapparated, leaving Harry stunned and confused in the doorway.

He returned to the house, told his uncle it was a present for him, and walked up the stairs into his room. He opened the box and found the letter on top of something wrapped up in green paper. He tore the letter open.

That was all. Harry unwrapped the paper. A tiny bed, made of some light wood, with blue sheets, blanket and two wonderful pillows appeared on his palm, and he noticed a red button on the wooden back. Harry moved his own bed to the back of his room and placed the new one on the floor. Then he gently touched the red button.

He had to jump aside hastily because the bed was growing quickly. It was growing and growing, till it became as large as his previous one. But it never stopped. It grew larger even than his Hogwarts’ one.

Finally it was over. A ready, wonderful bed was standing in front of the bewildered boy, calling him to lie down and curl under the soft cotton sheets. Another piece of parchment on the pillow caught Harry’s attention.

Harry did as he was told. Then a wonderful feeling of gratefulness filled him all through, and he jumped onto the bed. It sprung softly under his body and Harry grasped the pillow and buried his face in it.

"I love you," he whispered. He would be even happier if his boyfriend could hear him.

~~~~~~~~888~~~~~~~~