The Mistaken Connection

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

"Blaise is sick?" Harry asked, eyes widened. How could he be sick? And especially at Harry's fault, considering Harry wasn't sick at all.

"You both are! Blaise has got that DMS or whatever the fuck because you couldn't keep your scent to yourself." Pansy scoffed, and she rolled her eyes. Harry couldn't believe his ears, mostly: what the hell is—

"DMS?" Ginny asked, clearly as lost as he was.

Luna smiled as she wrestled Pansy around, tugging on limbs here and nearly biting there. Her feet lifted off the ground and Pansy walked over to the couch with her on her back despite the struggle, desperate to get the blonde off her. Mid-drop, Luna informed, "DMS is Desperational Mating Sickness: it occurs in Doms who engage in mate-like activities, commonly scenting, with a Sub they're not mated to. It can cause Doms emotional and physical pain, psychological trauma, and the inability to the Mate if any symptoms occur at all, since it can also be asymptomatic! Luckily that one wasn't on our tests today!"

Pansy flipped and overhead slammed Luna down onto the couch, and she smiled down at the young girl. "Can't wait to see you in VH, Potter. With an active Sub like that, I'm sure you'll be a handful."

Even as questions swirled through Harry's head, Ginny tapped on his shoulder and pulled his attention away from the girls talking. She pointed at the brooms and then at the exits, flicking her eyes back over to the distracted Pansy. Harry nodded, and he grabbed his Firebolt out of the closet, stealthily creeping out of the room with Ginny by his side. They slid out and smiled at each other when they froze at the noise of Pansy shifting around the commons area, though she didn't follow them out.

They ventured into the hallways after stuffing Harry's ears with cotton, and Harry realized a lot of his unconscious paranoia is uncovered when his hearing is taken. His tense muscles and stiff walk, his craning neck and cautious steps, worked to tell the story of his inability to stay still on their walk. Every corner was taken with caution and a trail of goosebumps over his arms and along the back of his neck. He could still hear the shrieks of those Doms grabbing at any part of his body that they could get to, hands wandering and gripping and tearing. Despite his change of clothes, he still remembered the holes they bared.

By the time they made it to the field, Harry was holding Ginny's hand to settle and hide the shake of his own. She indulged him without a fuss, and she even wrapped a hand around his shoulders when Doms walked by, sneering at them over her shoulder if they got too close when she thought Harry couldn't see.

It didn't matter how protective Ginny was and how much Harry appreciated it; at the field, two figures made their way from the center of the sky, a ball passed between them, to the ground of the field, for some reason eagerly walking towards them. He couldn't hear his own voice, but Harry still leaned over and pressed his lips to Ginny's ear and whispered, "What are they doing?"

Her response was lost on him, but the clarity of the two figures approaching didn't appease his queasy stomach. He could smell them from here: two sweaty Doms in desperate need of showers and some protein shakes. It made Harry sick.

"Why is it always Malfoy?" Harry complained as they were approached, and Ginny cut him off, clearly, considering the two Doms' attention went right to the redhead.

Harry pulled out the cotton blobs blocking his hearing, trusting Ginny told the duo to keep quiet. Draco looked more or less exactly how he smelt: his face was flushed red with his unusually loose blond hair curled down to stick to his forehead. His chest was rising and huffing with quiet breaths pushed out of his nose, clearly an effort by Draco to retain his loudness. His attention was flicking between both of the Subs as Ginny spoke. "Are you guys still using the field or are we okay to fly?"