excerpts____

Draco moved his face into alignment with Harry’s, slid his mouth over his for a sudden, slow kiss. Harry’s grasp of his hips turned possessive: he was sure now.



“There’s more,” Draco breathed into the kiss. “I’m disgusting. I’m embarrassed to know myself.”



“What else?” Harry pursued. His chest felt full and warm, somehow: his blood was thrumming with the urge to act, and yet he was happy to just stand there and watch Draco fumble for his words.



“I,” Draco said. “I, there’s something I should – I like the stupid way you dress. I even like the way your hair is always horrible. Harry, I’m a very sick man.”



Harry leaned back about half an inch as realisation of what Draco was actually saying dawned.



“You like me,” he said, and almost laughed.
- Underwater Light by Maya

“If this conversation is going to continue,” Harry spoke from between his knees “please tell me now so that I can leave and not know just how embarrassed I should be.”



“We could spare you the embarrassment, but it is ever so much fun to watch you flustered and blushing,” Draco said with a smirk. “Besides, have you ever known me to pass on an opportunity to best you? I must admit, you are making it far too easy these days, but I could hardly ignore the chance to see you so deliciously flushed.” Draco’s hand had found its way back to Harry’s neck and was beginning to stroke. “You have no idea how edible you look when you’re embarrassed.”



Harry figured he must look like a ten course meal right about now. Maybe Draco would eat him, and then he would be away from--ok, now he was a hard ten course meal.



“Ok, now this is starting to get interesting,” Hermione said with a grin. “Please, Draco, do elaborate.”



“Please, Draco, do not,” Harry pleaded, finally lifting his very red face from his knees. “We do not need a public repeat simply to satisfy Hermione’s curiosity.”



“Who said it’s her curiosity she wants satisfied?” Draco asked with a smirk. “It’s not as if the Weasel has managed to pull his head out of his arse, as of yet. I can’t blame her for realizing that I am a walking wet dream, and anyone would be panting at the picture of you flushed and writhing. She would just prefer the picture be clear and detailed.”



“That picture’s yours, Draco,” Harry said softly. “She can’t have it.”



Harry stared down at his hands and tried to ignore the silence that had fallen around him. Draco’s hand was still idly drawing patterns on the back of his neck, and he could feel Draco’s eyes attempting to capture his own. Finally, Draco’s hand trailed from his neck, down his arm, to his hand.



“Hermione, good evening,” Draco said, standing and pulling Harry to his feet. “Where are Harry’s dorm mates?”
- Blush by closet_bound

"You look so good like this," Harry murmured, staring at Draco's pale, exposed throat, leading to the gap at the top of his shirt. He dipped his head, dragging his tongue in a wet path from the middle of Draco's chest to his Adam's apple, shifting his hand so the flat of his palm pressed along the full length of Draco's cock. "I like seeing your mouth open that way and like it when your breathing goes all funny. I like seeing your hands pressed against the wall like that, too. In fact," Harry said thoughtfully, speaking into Draco's ear, free hand lazily toying with the ends of Draco's hair, "I think I'd like it very much if you turned around and kept your hands up against the wall."



"F...fuck, Harry," he choked, thighs starting to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, and was about to say something else, not even sure what that something else was but assuming it was probably some form of pleading, when Harry leaned forward, murmuring nonchalantly into his ear, and he stiffened slightly, trying not to wail. Harry wanted him...facing...facing the wall, not touching, not seeing, not...



For the most part, he was so far gone, so desperate, that it was on the tip of his tongue to say yes, yes, anything, just please, god, fuck me, but...but he wanted Harry staring into his face as he thrust into him hard and fast and hungry, wanted Harry's mouth devouring his, Harry's teeth sinking into his throat, his legs wrapped around Harry's waist and Harry's hands moulded to his arse as Harry fucked him into the wall, and as much as he was willing to defer to Harry, to say yes, whatever you want, there was still a part of him that wasn't willing to give up that easily, even though he knew deep down that he should.



"H...Harry," he gasped, forcing his eyes open. "I...I w--want..."
- outside_leaky

He didn't get far; he was instantly accosted by a rather attractive, shirtless brunet with tanned skin and blue eyes (wrong colour, his brain told him instantly), who eyed him shamelessly before resting a hand on Draco's waist, the only sort of request to dance that Draco knew to expect. In response, he slid a hand up over the other man's arm, ignoring the fact that every inch of him was screaming at him and telling him this was wrong, and began to move, twisting his hips smoothly against his partner's, head tilted back slightly and lips parted and free hand curled out to the side.
- outside_leaky

"I - I don't - we're not -" Harry trailed off. He'd been totally confused about what was going on with him and Draco before going into the Pensieve, and though he'd got a bit more of a clue now, he still needed time to make sense of it all. Besides which, he and Draco had 'officially' broken up. But Harry didn't feel like explaining any of this to Ron right now.



"Oh, come on, Harry. You always deny it, but I saw you, remember. I saw you - kissing. I could tell you're mad for each other."



Ron was hugging himself, very embarrassed.



"Hermione's never all over me the way Malfoy is over you," he muttered.
- The Ebony Box, by Dahlia

'Yes,' Dumbledore said, sounding both sad and proud. 'And damn me but if you would not have killed one another in the attempt. You know, of course, that House divisions are mere sophistry; yet, they can be a good rule of thumb in terms of judging character. By nature, those Sorted into Slytherin and those Sorted into Gryffindor are superficially opposites. In different concentrations, each member is imbued with traits that make them unattractive to members of another House. The rashness of Gryffindor is rarely valued by the cold calculation of Slytherin, and so on and so forth. However, they both have a common, underlying thread which, in certain people, makes them more similiar than they are different. There are exceptions, but the majority of the time, a mixture of two so alike ends in tragedy.' He took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Wounds decades old can still hurt, Harry, my boy. I was once in your position. A beautiful, wild, reckless girl and myself - we were in far deeper than you were when we realised how we had deceived ourselves.' He sighed again, heartfelt. 'To love a Gryffindor is to walk into a lion's den'. I believe that is a proverb.'



'What?' Harry said, startled. 'You mean to say - you weren't in Gryffindor?'



'Why, Harry,' Dumbledore laughed. 'Whatever gave you that idea?'



- Sob Story by Alvira

Hermione released him and stepped back. 'I saw the way you looked at him. Like he was the light and you were the moth. I don't think he realises. He certainly wouldn't know what to do if he did.' She took a breath. 'He hasn't yet told you what they did to him, has he?'



'No,' Harry said, after a time. 'But I've guessed most of it.'



'Then you see, don't you, why you can't do this to him.' Hermione's pleading eyes were huge in her face. 'You've managed to heal him beyond all we thought possible. You cannot, Harry, you cannot confuse him by trying to make him your lover as well as your - your patient, I suppose. He badly needed some boundaries. Now you've given them to him it would be cruel to take them away!'



'What do you know about cruel?' Harry demanded.



'What I've learned second-hand,' Hermione said solemnly, refusing to rise to the bait. 'Second-hand through Malfoy and people like him. The Death Eaters...they weren't kind, Harry. They didn't care much about how old their victims were, or who they were, or even what they did to them in the end. But the cruellest thing of all would be to try and make Malfoy love you when he can't.'



'How do you know he can't?' Harry shouted.



'You know why, Harry,' Hermione said, and she looked on the verge of crying. 'I think he would try. And it would kill him. He was a nasty, horrible little kid, but he didn't deserve what he got. The balance has now been repaid. He needs to leave and become whole on his own. Without you.'



'But I don't think I'm whole without him,' Harry whispered, his fingers over his face.
- Sob Story by Alvira

Remus was trying to understand. It was impossible. "Severus none of this makes sense. You barely spoke to me in the seven years we went to school together save a handful study sessions in our sixth year. You sold your life for the remote chance that there was even something you could do to help me. Why, Severus?" The strain of the conversation was apparent in his quivering voice. "Why risk everything for me? Please…Please, I have to know."



Severus saw the pain in his eyes; a grief and sorrow in those amber pools that affected him no less now than it did decades ago. It seemed wrong to him for someone like Remus Lupin to have that sort of pain in his eyes; eyes that should be full of laughter and song. He had given up so much to never have to see them so pained again and now it was back -- and he was the reason. He had already disclosed so much, why not all of it? Wasn't it time after all? "You are assuming Remus," he said slowly, "that I had something else to live for."
- Choices by TheTreacleTart

Harry rolled his eyes behind half-closed lids. "Christ, Malfoy, are you always so whiny after someone fucks you?"



Draco went quiet, and Harry forced his eyes open, looking up into Draco's face, noting the somewhat guarded expression a split second before he replied, "I wouldn't know. I don't bottom."



Harry furrowed his brow, confused by what Draco meant. For all of two seconds. Then, his eyes widened, something between complete and utter shock and indescribable warmth twining in his belly. "You...but you just..." He sucked in a breath and tried again. "But you just...bottomed to me."



Draco snorted. "Yes, well, you always did break every single rule ever made, so don't look so surprised."



"So..." Harry was still having a difficult time processing this. Draco didn't...didn't bottom, and yet he'd just...just let Harry...and Harry had no idea what he was...he'd never...fuck. No wonder he'd been in pain. "So that...that was your first t--"



"Shut up."
- Subtle Nuances by Anj

He broke away, gasping for air, and looked up at Severus with wide eyes. "Not. One. Night," he said, speaking slowly and carefully, needing desperately to be understood. "Always, or never."
- Remus, the_leaky

Snape rose from his chair and took a step toward the other man, but Lupin immediately backed away. "Don't touch me. I'm furious, Snape. I am so fucking angry right now."



Crossing his arms, Snape gazed at the other man's reddened features. "You're angry. Well, let the world cease turning and the stars stop in their courses. Am I supposed to be impressed?"



Lupin closed his eyes. "Get out. Get out of here. I've had enough."



"A remarkably low tolerance for conflict, Lupin. When shall we continue this discussion, then?"



"We won't. I won't. I'm through. Done."



Snape felt as if the entire room had suddenly plunged a couple of meters down to the floor below. His hands went cold.



"Done?" he asked.
- That The Night Come by Sparrowhawk

"You've got it wrong, Snape. As you'd know if you ever let me talk about him."



"What have I gotten wrong? Are you going to disabuse me of the notion that the two of you were lovers? Or deny that you still hug your beloved's memory to you like a talisman? Where am I in error, Lupin? Tell me, I beg of you!"



Lupin sighed. "Yes, damn it. I loved Sirius. I suppose at one time I would have called him my beloved. And I called him my friend--the dearest I ever had. And I miss him. God, how much." His voice was husky, and he paused to sip his drink before he continued. "But we weren't lovers, Snape. Not after Azkaban."



Snape was quiet. He wasn't sure what he had expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't this.



"And I'll be honest. It wasn't from my own lack of trying. I loved him, Severus. He just didn't--couldn't--return it."



The room was very quiet. Snape stared at the whisky gently swirling in his glass.



"Even before Azkaban, there were always--" He paused, twisting a fold of the blanket between his fingers. "There were always others. Women. And men. You remember him then. He was like a force of nature. So fucking beautiful. I knew I wasn't going to change him, so I didn't try. I just... coped.



"And then when he came back, for a while I thought it might work. But I was wrong. Again. He tried, I think. He didn't want to hurt me, but he kept me at arm's length. We did have sex, a few times, when I'd all but bullied him into it, but it was hollow, somehow. There was always an emptiness in him that he wouldn't let me touch.



"He wouldn't talk about it. After sex, he'd just lie there for a minute or two and then get up and pace around the room, or go and read in the library. He didn't sleep much, after Azkaban.



"Then I couldn't even get him to fuck me any more. I'd touch his hand and he'd pull away. If I tried to ask him about it he'd pick a fight, get us into one of those pissing matches he was so good at. The only kind of passion he had left, I suppose.



"So I stopped trying. And it hurt. Oh, my Christ, it hurt."



Snape found he was holding his breath against several painful realizations.



That he still hated Sirius Black. Perhaps even more.
- A Lesser Light by Sparrowhawk

Some mornings, especially as the full moon draws closer, Lupin wakes to an uneasy melancholy and finds Snape dressed and reading in his study. When Lupin pads over to the armchair and touches Snape's shoulder, Snape flinches and does not speak. After four months of these scattered days, showering and dressing in cold solitude, Lupin asked Snape whether something had happened during the night.



Snape paused before answering and did not meet Lupin's eyes. "Nothing important. You were dreaming."



Lupin searched his mind and discovered nothing but the hollowness of forgotten sensations. "I don't remember what I dreamed."



Snape's eyes darted sharply to Lupin's, searching, then returned to rest blankly on the text of his book. "You called out Black's name. It's not the first time."



Involuntarily, Lupin's hand clenched, so sudden that he was sure Snape could feel it. "I'm sorry, Severus," he whispered, and he hoped that Snape would not ask what he was sorry for.
- Thirteen Ways by Sinope

Snape has never said that he loves Lupin, and he has said it a thousand times.



He says it in the flash of his eyes when he subtracts points from Slytherin seventh-years for disrespect toward "the werewolf." He says it with the Ceylon and Earl Grey tea blend that he prepares every evening, exactly as Lupin likes it, even though Lupin knows Snape prefers Darjeeling. He says it in the stretched lines across his forehead as he warns Lupin not to get killed on his Order errands. He says it on the nights that Lupin is tired of the Howlers and the threats and the letters to Dumbledore, when he firmly holds Lupin's hand until Lupin closes his eyes and leans forward and feels Snape's arms tighten around his back.



Snape says it when he watches Lupin undress, and his eyes are dark and wide, and his lips are pressed to whiteness, and his breath catches hoarsely, and Lupin cannot help but whisper "I love you, Severus."



Lupin has said a thousand times that he loves Snape, and sometimes he doesn't mind that Snape never replies. Sometimes he thinks that if Snape ever said "I love you" outright, the words would leave Lupin breathless and speechless, because nothing he could say would be precious enough to reciprocate.
- Thirteen Ways by Sinope

"Severus, listen to me," [Remus] entreated. "Believe me, please. Sirius hasn't been my first priority in any way for years, and you know exactly when he was replaced."
- Wicked Game by McKay

"I'll see you around," Draco said. "Maybe."



"Yeah," said Harry. "You'll come visit, won't you?"



"Sure," said Draco, even though they both knew he was lying. "I've a train to catch."



"Goodbye, then," said Harry, and swallowed before shutting the door, as if he couldn't quite bear anymore.



"Goodbye," said Draco, to weatherworn paint and rather solid wood, and went to catch the train.



In the end, he got to the compartment before he realized that he'd made enough mistakes in his life to know what one looked like, and enough to know that he wasn't about to make this one.



It took him twenty minutes to get back to the house. He let himself back in through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. Harry was in the kitchen, at the sink, elbows on the counter, head in his hands. The water was running, loud enough to drown out Draco's quiet footsteps, and a pile of dishes was half-dried, dripping onto the sideboard.



"Hi," said Draco.



Harry jumped, turned, stared. His eyes were red. "Did you miss your train?"



"I forgot something," Draco murmured.



"What?" Harry said, looking rather defeated.



"You," said Draco, simply, and crossed the kitchen.



"Oh," said Harry, very softly, more of an exhalation than a word, as Draco stepped closer, until they were almost touching.
- All His Saints by Setissma

"Boys are weird like that," Luna supplied.



"I hate boys," Ginny hissed. "They're fairly useless, aren't they?"



Luna's face broke into a smile and she shifted her position against the tree. "Yeah," she replied.
- Cherry Pink by Emma Grant

"Look, this is stupid," you say, and you always thought Wood was maybe not all that quick about things, but he seems to figure you out, at least this time, right away.



He hunches his shoulders together and nods.



"You're right," Oliver says.



It's not that you're not supposed to, because you do whatever, anything -- anything you feel like at all. It's just that you're both, you're too different -- that's it, and you don't have time for things with special labels. Maybe that's how his house operates, but.



Not yours.



And then he draws himself up, all big and tall, and snaps, "I let them through, you know, when I'm at the goal?" and it's almost pathetic, so you laugh.



"I don't play- I, I let you score on me," he says, like he's admitting something -- even goes on to hold his breath.



"Sure you do," you say, and check through Flitwick's office on your way back for Monday's pop quiz.



~



At the game he isn't watching you, and you're not watching him, and the bludgers are racing furious and sky-bolt quick. One almost grazes your elbow, and you squeeze the broom with both legs, tuck yourself in.



He notes you when you approach, quaffle tucked under your arm, and tips his head in greeting. "And I just felt sorry for you, " you say, "So I guess we're even."



He tips his head again, and you throw the ball at the same angle as you always did before. You threw it nearly straight with a swift, downward curve, and it scored, and you won, and everyone went home happy.



Oliver stops it without blinking, dead on. His smile is wide and quiet.
- Mr. Storyteller, by Silvia Kundera

You don't see Wood for two days, and you're joking, and you say, "This other bloke, what's his name?" and you must not have expected him to do anything but shake his head and laugh, because when he says, "I don't think I should tell you that," you just.



stop.



"I thought you knew," he says, and that's the stupidest thing you've ever heard, and those two stupid prats who tag along after Malfoy are barely past vegetable, and they're in your house, so you've heard a fuck of a lot of things to compare it to. "I didn't," you say, which is completely unnecessary, but for last words you suppose they'll do. You're not thinking especially clearly at the time.
- Mr. Storyteller by Silvia Kundera

"Why do you think, Potter? Why would I risk everything, my own fucking life, all these secrets. I've wanted more than just freedom from you. For years I've wanted more. But these last six months you’ve watched me and I've watched you in return. You've needed to know the truth and I'm handing it to you, and now I have a request of my own…” Malfoy’s voice trailed off and he bit his lip.



“What?”



“You need to stop watching me,” Malfoy spoke softly. “I need things to go back to the way they were. I can't keep thinking that there is even the smallest chance..."
- Tempting Fate by willysunny

He looked at Draco, standing several steps from him, as if they were too painful to make. He said, tightly, “So what is it, Malfoy, me or your father?”



“You want me to choose?” Draco demanded heatedly. “Potter, it’s not that simple.”



“No,” Harry said. “It isn’t. But some things have to be.”



Draco stared at him. Then he stalked across the room, picked up a whirling Sneakoscope from where it stood on the table, and hurled it at the cracked Foe Glass that stood beside it. In the silence that followed the crash, he muttered so furiously that at first, Harry couldn’t comprehend the meaning in what he’d said, “It’s been you, Potter, are you blind?”



“I,” Harry said, stunned, when he’d recovered. “I didn’t know.”



“Well, now you do,” Draco snarled. “Now get out.”



Harry had to smile at the furious note in Draco’s voice, which he had no intention of heeding. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said stubbornly. “Since when?”



“It doesn’t matter.”



“I want to know,” Harry insisted, stepping closer to him, though he was careful to avoid the broken glass. “Draco.”



“We were practicing the Patronus spell,” Draco said, so coldly that Harry almost thought he was angry. “You told me to think of a happy memory, so I thought of my father.”



“And?”



Draco met his eyes with such sudden force that Harry could not look away. “And it was from years ago, on some stupid Potions exam, when he was proud of me,” he hissed. “I knew he’d never be, not now, and then you told me it was nice. You said it was good. That’s all. Lord, Potter, are you satisfied now?”
- Transformation by Amalin

Draco's eyes snapped with rage. "Did you know that Mudbloods are proven to dilute the bloodline of Purebloods, Potter? Did you know that over forty percent of children from mixed descent are weaker than those of pureblood descent? Did you know that only four fifths of children from those mixed families are born with magic on average? They are slowly and surely killing our magic! Did you know that, Potter? Of course you didn't. You only know what your Mudblood tells you, and why would she tell you shameful statistics like that?"



"You can't judge people by how powerful they are," Harry shot back. "So what if they don't have magic? Even if that is true, which I doubt, so what? There's nothing less noble, less human about them! You can't treat them like they don't exist!"



Draco was on his feet by this point, his words spilling out with more vehemence than Harry had ever heard from him. "And you can't clump us all together under the same category! I just want to survive! I want my line to survive! I want magic to survive! That's what you don't understand, Potter. My father would have killed a world to keep me strong. He would never let anything contaminate my blood because he loves me that much!" He was past the point of going back. "Your father never did that for you."



"My dad loved me enough to die for me," Harry yelled. "Nobody's ever done that for you!"



"Oh, so now you're proud that you've got people killed? What a hero you are, Potter, sending your family and friends to death."



Sirius's lazy fall. Cedric's last smile. The flash of green. His mother's eyes. Seamus’s arm around his shoulder, an easy camaraderie. Dudley’s piggy grin. Sirius . . .



Harry barely realized that he had slid down the door until he was slumped against it, sitting with his knees curled to his chest. The silence was deafening. Draco stared down at him, looking terrified. "Potter?" It was clear by the glazed look in Harry's eyes that his voice hadn't registered. "Potter. Potter. I didn't–"
- Transformation by Amalin

"There are some things I never joke about, Potter. My family, my clothes, my money, and you." Draco drew in a long, lingering breath, and reached across to tenatively graze his fingers across the shape of Harry's jaw, and Harry let out an equally shaky breath of his own.
- unfinished cookie by Abaddon

Fifteen minutes have passed. Ties have been removed and sleeves have been rolled up. Draco's feet are resting in between Harry's. Polished shoes against slightly scruffy shoes.



Draco rubs his chin, thinking. "Green eyes," he says, after a moment, sounding annoyed that all other topics have already been covered.



"Silver eyes."



"Black hair."



"Blond hair."



Draco sighs, turns his eyes to the ceiling. "Everybody's hero," he says, with the tiniest hint of mockery.



"Not yours," Harry says softly, eyes focussed on an exposed thread on the hem of his pants.



Draco looks startled. He waits until Harry looks up at him once more. "Everybody's hero," he repeats, more steadily.
- Two Words by Pansy Goodlay

Harry Potter knows how to make me sweat, and how to make me gasp and shudder and whisper his name. I am not vocal in sex, and at first he took this is as an insult, but then he came to realise it's just the way I am. It's not the way he is, and this is where we clash, but then again we clash everywhere. We are two entirely different entities - I am dark, he is light. I am blonde, he is black.



I am in love, and he is not.
- Need To Destroy by cherryflavour

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