𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 25

He was sure it was a dream. There was no way that Malfoy would come to his bed and jerk him off. It had to be a dream.

He looked over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was in his usual place, ignoring everything around him as he primly cut an apple into slices and ate it. His house mates had finally stopped taunting him, it seemed, but sat in their little gangs, far away from the aloof eighth year.

“Harry?” a hand waved in front of his face and he blinked back into focus. Hermione was sitting opposite him, giving him one of her worried looks.

“What?”

“You were in a world of your own.”

Harry shrugged. “Just thinking.” He looked around. Ron was busy with his sister and Seamus, a copy of The Prophet between them. They seemed to be talking about a Quidditch match.

He leaned forward, determined to get something out of Hermione about Malfoy. “So spill,” he started bluntly. “What’s going on between you and Ferret-face?”

“Malfoy?” She blushed and bit quickly into toast and marmalade. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, ‘Mione. I know you. You were defending him a little too strongly yesterday, and if that wasn’t a blush, then I’m Merlin. Do you...” he paused, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Do you... have... feelings for him?”

The look on her face was a picture. “Feelings for Malfoy?” she giggled. “Oh, Harry, sometimes you’re so funny.”

Harry felt his own flush heat up his cheeks. “So what’s going on? I know something is.”

“If you must know, I’ve been learning Occlumency from him. I took a leaf out of your... uh... book.” She looked disapproving. “Although your book seems to be missing most of its pages.”

“Very funny.” Harry rolled his eyes, then he brightened. “But that means you can teach me. I won’t have to learn from him.”

“Actually, I’ve not really got the hang of it myself yet,” Hermione admitted. “It’s slow. We’ve only had three sessions together.”

“You realise if Ron finds out, he’ll hex Malfoy into a rubber duck.”

Hermione sniggered. “I’m not sure he knows what a rubber duck is, but yes, that’s why I’m keeping it quiet.” She paused. “But we’ve become... well, not friends, but he’s opened up to me a little. I think he misses Pansy. They were always quite close and every gay man needs a female BFF.”

“Opened up? In what way?”

“Well, I asked him about what happened here last year and, okay, he didn’t exactly tell me what he did – you know the things Neville told us, but he said that he did what needed to be done.”

Harry shot another glance at Ron, then leaned closer. “Last night he was crying in his bed,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t just lay there and listen to him... I... went to see if he was okay.”

Hermione’s face settled into an expression of concern. “What happened?”

The heat in Harry’s face was turning to lava-like proportions. “I had to sit on him to stop him hexing me and waking up the whole dorm. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but at least he went all limp and stopped crying.” Harry wondered if he should tell Hermione what had happened after that, but decided against it.

“He went limp?” Hermione frowned. “That’s not like him. He’d normally fight like a cat.”

“Yeah.”

“So you were sitting on top of him?”

“Well, kind of. I mean I was... half on him, then he just... moved so I was...”Harry bowed his head “betweenhislegs,” he mumbled. “Then he told me to do what I wanted.”

The look on Hermione’s face told him that Ron had kept his word and not said anything about his and Harry’s recent discussions about his sexuality.

“Oh my Gods!” she whispered, her eyes horrified. “That’s a classic example of...” she stopped, then glared at Harry. “What did you do?”

“I got off him and went back to my bed,” Harry said cagily.

She nodded. “Harry, I think that all those rumours about him er... being a bit of a...” she paused.

“Slut?” Harry supplied.

“Well, yes... that. I think they’re wrong. I think he’s been abused and raped. That time Neville said he took the punishment for a first year... I don’t think it was willing... and from what you said, that seems to be a learned response.... someone is on top of him, so he relaxes and lets them do what they want so they don’t hurt him. I think his role in the Death Eaters was...” she flushed. “Well, he’s a good looking boy, isn’t he – and the Death Eaters are real perverts – remember Greyback?”

Harry blinked. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Hermione nodded.

“That’s sick!”

“Yes, it is, but think, Harry. He was stuck there with all those Death Eaters, and Voldemort, and wandless – unable to protect himself. What lengths would you go to, to try and stay alive. You’d do anything... anything they wanted – bear anything they did to you, just so you had the chance of waking up in the morning.”

Harry stared at her in horror, realisation slamming into his head with the force of a bludger.

“Oh, Hermione...” he whispered. “I took his wand. I left him there. He helped us and I just left him there. We could have taken him with us. It’s my fault!”

“No! Harry!”

But Harry, unable to cope with the revelation that had made itself known to him, leapt up and ran out of the room, his mind reeling, self-loathing crawling and laughing at him mockingly, like Bellatrix’s insane cackles.

So much for being a hero.