Harry buried his face in his pillow, closing his eyes tight and blinking out the pitiful tears that were forming in their corners. Ron bit his lip, sat at the end of his bunk, failing at his new post of Harry's 'agony aunt'.

"Maybe he just… changed his mind?" He offered, lamely. Harry sobbed, shoulders heaving once as he exhaled his pent up emotions. "Come on, Harry. It's hardly the end of the world, is it?"

Seamus Finnegan had broken up with Harry Potter. In Harry's melodramatic mind, this was a hundred million times worse than anything Voldemort could have ever come up with. He was rejected and spurned, and it had been a public split, too. Seamus was still down in the common room, shying away from all of the evil glares of Harry's fan-club, lead by Collin and Dennis Creevy, as they pitied their heart broken hero. The embarrassment was the worst thing to hold down.

"I only wanted to hold his hand, Ron. It's not like I was about to propose to him or make a wild show of eternal love and unbreakable monogamy." Harry snorted. "Like Seamus could have kept it, anyway." Ron swung his feet and shifted himself awkwardly.

"Seriously though, Harry. You can do way better than that. Come on: Finnegan? Finnegan, seriously? You're the boy who lived, you're the -"

"Oh, cut that crap Ron. I've heard it already." Harry sighed wistfully, rolling over and dropping his head back onto the pillow. He stared at the ceiling, glaring a hole right through it. There were footsteps on the stairs. Ron stood, ready to barricade the door from Dean or Neville of even Seamus himself, but Hermione burst through and flung herself at Harry.

"Oh god Harry, I am so sorry." She cooed at him, her bushy hair sprawling across his chest and clinging to his robes.

"Yeah, yeah Hermione, Harry and I were having a sophisticated chat about guy-stuff before you burst in." Hermione glared at him. Ron backed down. "Or not."

"It's just horrible, what he did Harry. Standing up and telling you he didn't want you anymore, like that little whore he is. It was so out of order. The entire house is threatening to jinx him if he doesn't apologise for doing that to you…" Harry was groaning loudly. "Harry?"

"For fucks sake… Can anyone just send him up here to talk to me? Alone?" Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Ron shrugged it off but Hermione didn't look convinced. Harry realised that he was still crying a little bit. He rubbed the corner of his eyes.

"I'll get him." Murmured Hermione. Ron stood up and stretched out his lanky arms, smiling weakly at Harry.

"Everyone's overreacting." Harry mumbled, brushing down his robes. There was a small stain on his sleeve from potions. It smelt unpleasant.

"Quidditch match in three days. No one wants you to fuck up." Ron sighed. They heard Seamus' voice on the stairs. Harry gave Ron the look that said 'I'll see you later, so piss off' and sat up in his bed. As Ron passed Seamus in the dormitory door, he tried his hardest not to glare too deeply into his eyes, choosing instead to glare at Hermione's shoes as she lead him back to the common room.

"Hey." Seamus mumbled, leaning on the door frame. He looked terrified.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry." Seamus blurted out, not realising that his response did not fully answer Harry's question.

"It's alright." Harry murmured, standing and picking up a discarded Gryffindor scarf. To his dismay, he recognised it as the one Seamus had wrapped around his neck last week as they trudged through the snow up to the front doors of the castle. He held it up to the other boy, pretending to smile. "Yours, right?" Seamus nodded, taking it and dropping it on his bed.

They looked at each other for a few more minutes before Harry took it upon himself to break the ice.

"Any reason?" He asked, referring to the whole rejection and break up incident that had taken place downstairs just a handful of minutes ago. Seamus bit his lip and nodded; once and stiffly. "And that would be?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"I'm going for a walk." Harry mumbled to Hermione, shielded by his invisibility cloak as he leant down to whisper. She glanced around, breaking her conversation with Ron for just a second to determine where he was. Ron cocked an eyebrow at her, mouthing over Neville's ramble about Arabian cacti. Harry walked towards the portrait of the fat lady, not bothering to look back.

Luckily, Fred and George were messing around with a couple of first years, threatening to lock them out if they didn't try their new enchanted bubble gum. Harry crept past them, glancing around the corridor, stepping onto the first few steps of the staircase. He could feel the eyes of the portraits around him.

He scurried down to the ground floor, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the flickering torches that were sparking to life in every corridor. Some Ravenclaws were scattered around, mingling around the doors to the great hall, most of them returning from the library. Harry moved around them, heading towards the dungeons.

He caught sight of a small group of Slytherins, all in the year below him. Smothering himself in the wall, he watched them turn a corner, deeply immersed in their conversation. Harry started sneaking up behind them. He fingered his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. They seemed to sense him and lowered the volume of their talking. The brunette boy Harry was behind suddenly turned his head, his nose inches from Harry's, searching the apparently empty corridor for any signs of an intruder. He squinted and Harry debated pressing a quick kiss to his lips, just for the fun of it.

They stopped, mumbled a password to a blank stretch of wall, watching it slide open before stepping in. Harry followed them, ducking into the shadows, spying around the room.

He wasn't so sure why he had given the Slytherin common room the evil pretense he had always imagined. It looked quite cosy, despite the dark coloured walls and high ceiling. It was mostly plushy and green, the fire a pool of amber light and glowing embers. A few third years were sat in a corner, talking quietly, their gentle whispering filling the room with the gentle, familial purr of a home. A few seventh years had taken the best seats around the fire, their bare feet stretched out across the hearth, quills scratching into their parchment as they worked their way through their N.E.W.T.s. They looked pretty relaxed. The students he had followed were making their way up some stone steps, treading carefully over the cracks, continuing their conversation.

Harry followed them, assuming that that was where the dormitories were.

He found Malfoy's soon enough. The fifth year room was empty, the beds made and the trunks closed and stored under their four posters. A few candles were lit, their light pooling in the ceiling and on the bed sheets. Harry stepped inside, the cloak still covering his frame.

He looked around the room, debating which one was Malfoy's bed, still uncertain what he would do when he found it. He heard movement in the bathroom.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, clutching the towel around his waist and stepping into the dim light. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds – Harry assumed his own – falling backwards across it and letting his towel fall loose.

Harry blushed like a virgin, admiring Draco's body, still damp from his bath. His pale skin glowed, the occasional trickle of water rolling down his neck or chest, his abdomen or over his thighs. Harry wandered over to stand in front of him, watching him as he heaved out a sigh. His body was tiny, compared to Harry's.

Draco shivered, pressing a hand into his own hair, tugging it and moaning. The silvery locks bled water as he squeezed them, soaking his pillow. Harry watched the other boy's cock twitch from where it had been resting against his thigh. His own started to harden.

Draco stroked himself, running his hands up and down his length, mewling and writhing, putting on a show as his hips bucked into his fist and his eyes closed. Harry wanted to know what he was seeing behind those parchment white lids.

"Slut." He mumbled, feeling his own dick press into the front of his trousers. He wasn't too sure why he felt the urge to comment, but he did anyway.

"Fuck…" Mumbled Draco. "Call me it again." Harry swallowed.

"Slut." He growled, slightly louder. He started to unbutton his fly, palming himself through his boxers. "Little slut." Draco writhed, parting his thighs slightly, tickling his balls. Harry watched in amazement.

"Shit, baby… want you… so bad…" Harry licked his lips. This was so wrong, so obscene, watching his supposed 'arch enemy' touch and pleasure himself at his feet, but it was turning him on too much for him to care.

"Such a filthy whore…" He murmured again. It seemed Draco liked it when he insulted him, which, to be honest, didn't really make any difference from normal. "Dirty little bitch." Draco stroked himself faster, his thighs spreading a little wider. Harry dragged down his own foreskin as he admired their pale smoothness, wondering how Draco got them like that. His skin looked silky and Harry longed to run his hand over it, to catch it under his fingernails.

"Please Harry, please." He whimpered and Harry froze. It looked like Seamus hadn't been lying when he had told him that Draco had a possessive sexual obsession with him. "Give it to me." His thighs parted further and Harry made a small, high pitched squeak of arousal.

It was odd, how Harry immediately complied, detangling his hand from the hem of the cloak in order to press his finger to Draco's hole and slip it inside. He watched, fascinated as Draco rocked his hips down, his hand tight around his head as pre-cum spilled onto his knuckles. He was mewling loudly, telling Harry exactly how good it felt, totally unaware that his fantasy was coming true.

Harry wanted to kiss him really really badly. His mouth was just open, hot breath pulsing across his lips as he panted and whined. His chest was flushed, nipples pert, his other hand moving to tweak them as he fucked himself hard on two of Harry's fingers. Harry watched his wrists, their bony tendons rubbing against his skin, thin and delicate, the perfect personification of Draco.

Draco came. His entrance tightened around Harry's knuckles and Harry let out a small gasp, cum splattering the inside of the invisibility cloak as he climaxed; just from watching Draco. He hoped it wouldn't stain. He didn't know any decent wizarding dry-cleaners, and he certainly wouldn't ask Mrs Weasley.

Draco laid back on the bed, breathing heavily. Harry extracted his hand, pulling it back under the cloak. Draco's eyes slid shut and he wrapped himself in his duvet. Tentatively, Harry raised his hand to his mouth, licking his fingertips. Draco gazed up at the ceiling, sighing loudly. Harry turned around and left the room, thinking over the past ten minutes or so, zipping up his fly as he walked.

The next morning, as Harry was going down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione, having kept the events of his late night walk a complete and utter secret, he spotted Draco flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, drawling to them loudly. He also saw Seamus, coming down the stairs behind them, his eyes darting nervously between the two boys. Harry smiled and gave him a casual wave.

As Harry walked past Draco, he leant in slightly and murmured one word, smirking in satisfaction as Draco's voice stammered and his face paled.