Chapter fifteen.
Less than two months! I'm getting better, honest. Once again, if you want to be added to the mailing list, leave a comment with your email address and you'll be notified of updates to this fic. If you're on the mailing list and would like to be removed, do the same and you'll be taken off.
******
Rosemary took her position at the front of the class, hands clasped before her, and calmly surveyed her students as their personal conversations dwindled to murmurs and then to nothing as all eyes came to rest upon her. She smiled. It was the little things that made teaching such a joy.
Such as seeing the outright shock and disappointment on a student's face when one announced a lesson that was altogether unsatisfactory. Whoever said that teachers weren't sadists?
She was expecting such a result at today's announcement.
"Today you won't be working in your booths," she told them.
A few groans, a few exchanged looks of poorly hidden disappointment, and Rosemary was struggling to hold in her grin.
"As you all remember, earlier in the year I said that we would work on getting the basics down first, establishing your compatibility with your partners, and then work on bringing a measure of control back into your activities. Now that you've all gotten comfortable in your roles, and confident in your abilities, we will begin to bring the tactical aspect of Sex Magic into the classroom."
Rosemary smiled as a few of the forlorn expressions were replaced with ones of attentive hunger. She noted, with interest, that Draco Malfoy was not among their number. He looked downright sullen.
"For many of you, this class is a way to have sex outside of the Astronomy Tower. Don't think that I am unaware." She smiled smugly at the titters. "For others of you, this is exactly what you signed up for. A chance to learn a rare and exhilarating new branch of magic. Congratulations, you alone won't be disappointed in the weeks to come.
"Before each pair of partners, you will find a small, round stone. Your objective for today is to place the stone between your and your partner's hand, and attempt to change its color. It can be any color, but for better results it would be best if you and your partner decided on one together. Begin!"
The familiar bustle of activity followed, and Rosemary watched as Malfoy turned to face Potter with a scowl. She smiled. This was a new development. Two weeks ago, and either of these boys would have been thrilled with a no contact assignment.
Progress was a beautiful thing.
***
Draco sighed as he turned to face Potter. The other boy was looking a little lost and gazing at the stone resting by their knees as though it might bite.
"Well, let's get to it, then," Draco said.
Taking up the small, flat, gray stone in his right hand, he held it up about chest level. Potter scooted closer, crossed his legs and fiddled with the fabric of his trousers where it bunched at the knees. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Your hand, Potter?" he asked impatiently.
Harry looked up, confused for a second, and then gave a soft: "Oh."
His left hand joined Draco's right, and their fingers entwined around each other. They spared one another an awkward, unsure glance, not sure of how to proceed. Draco looked around at the other students for inspiration, and when he glanced back at Potter, he found him biting his lip and staring at their hands intently.
"Uh, I think we're supposed to... will the rock to change, or something," he said.
Draco gave him a dry look. "Yes, obviously, but how? And what color?"
"Red," Potter decided automatically.
"Merlin, no," Draco replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"What's wrong with red?" Harry wanted to know.
"It's a Gryffindor color, that's what's wrong with it," Draco stated, as though it should be obvious. "I like green."
"Of course you do. It's a Slytherin color."
"Why no, Harry, love. I like it because it matches your pretty eyes," Draco told him in a sickly-sweet tone, batting his eyelashes at him coyly.
Harry grimaced as though in pain. "Don't make me sound like a girl."
"You are a girl," said Draco.
"You're the girl," Harry retorted childishly.
"Boys," a cool voice interrupted. "If you don't mind, I think I'll choose a color for you."
Both boys looked up to see Professor Mason standing above them where they sat on their cushions on the floor. They wore identical scowls of frustration, and she smiled benevolently.
"How about blue? It's a neutral color, and easy to form a clear image of in your minds."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
Draco whipped his head around to glare at him. He waited until Mason had walked away before mimicking him. "Thank you, Professor! Bloody suck up."
"Shut it," Harry sneered at him.
Draco was impressed. Potter had actually executed a passable sneer.
"Blue, then," he said, and closed his eyes.
Without looking to see if Potter had done the same, he tried to focus on a clear picture of the color blue. He envisioned the sky on a good day for Quidditch. The color of his mother's eyes, and the dress robes she wore last Christmas.
He didn't know what he was expecting. Heat, a tingle along the skin pressed to the stone wedged between his palm and Potter's. Or simply the intrinsic knowledge that they had succeeded. He felt none of those, and peeked one eye open to glance at Potter. A moment later, the Gryffindor sighed and opened his eyes.
Both boys slowly unwound their fingers, opening their palms and turning them face up. The stone lay in the crease between their hands, still gray and unchanged.
"I think it looks a little blue," said Harry hopefully.
Draco gave him a dry look.
"Just along the edges," he grumbled bitterly.
"The stone is not even the slightest bit blue, Potter," Draco told him in a clipped tone. "You must've done something wrong."
Draco didn't know why he was being so nasty today, considering his newfound purpose the evening before. He put it down to disappointment at today's lesson. It would figure that just when he'd drummed up the nerve to beat Potter at his own seduction game, he'd find himself thwarted.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry denied hotly.
"Exactly," Draco drawled.
Harry huffed an angry sigh.
"Let's just try it again," he said through gritted teeth.
Draco said nothing, and closed his eyes again. He allowed himself a minute to clear his mind and take steady breaths before bringing what he wanted into focus. He tried to concentrate on the color blue. His mind felt fuzzy and unresponsive, and after a moment of trying to identify the source of this distraction, he registered warm breath and the scent of skin. Potter had leaned closer to him, and from the feel of things, his mouth was only a few inches away.
Draco quashed down hard on the urge to lean forward. He thought harder on the stone to distract himself. Blue, blue, blue, damn it.
It was useless. Potter's breath was warm and moist, puffing out over his cheek. He smelled inviting and familiar, and Draco felt himself swaying forward unconsciously. His lips brushed Harry's cheek, and he heard him gasp. Squeezing their fingers tighter together, he used his grip to pull Harry closer, and angled his head so that their lips met on the next try.
The kiss was unhurried, mouths closed but pliant as they fit over one another. Draco's chest felt full, hot and aching. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the comforting scent of Potter's skin. He was losing himself in the kiss when he felt a searing pain creeping into his consciousness. It spread out from his palm and made him flinch away.
"Merlin's balls!" he grunted angrily, waving his burnt hand in the air futilely.
The stone dropped onto the floor between their knees, blue as a robin's egg and smoking slightly. The two boys looked up at one another with equal parts surprise and satisfaction.
A low murmur from their left drew both boys' attention, and they looked over to see Pavarti leaning in close to Michael Corner and speaking to him in hushed tones, both of them staring directly at them. Draco looked around the room to see similar reactions amongst their classmates.
"Oh, hell," he muttered.
"Congratulations, boys." Professor Mason stepped forward and smiled down at them. "You are the first two to complete today's lesson."
"Oh, bloody hell," Draco repeated, and slumped forward to stare at this shoes.
***
Between the Prophet article, and yesterday's Sex Magic lesson, Draco was getting stares and snickers all around the next day. He endured them as best he could, scowling his way through one class after the next, until dinner finally crawled its way into existence. Another hour, and he could slide between the sheets of his four poster and pretend that articles in sordid news rags and amazingly-good-at-kissing boy heroes didn't happen to Malfoys.
"So, Draco," Blaise drawled from the other side of the table. "How's Potter?"
Draco's eyes narrowed to the point of near blindness. "How would I know that, Zabini?"
"Well, you two seem pretty close lately." Blaise smirked.
"Too close, if you ask me," Pansy chimed in.
"Thankfully, no one did," growled Draco. "Nor ever will."
Pansy made an unattractive snort of disgust that only reinforced her pug-like demeanor, and turned away. Draco brought his attention back to Blaise, who was still smirking into his fork.
"I mean, take last afternoon, for example," the dark, handsome boy continued. He looked around, ensuring that he had an audience. Draco recognized the tactic; it was one he had invented himself. Blaise was gearing up to make him lose favor in the eyes of his peers, and wanted to make sure the spotlight was on himself when it happened. Draco caught his eye and glared.
"Blaise," he warned.
"The rest of us were innocently practicing a new bit of magic, no touching or snogging required," Blaise made sure to point out. "And the next thing we know, Draco leans over to Potter and starts kissing him. They were going at it like they were in love, or something!"
"Blaise..." Draco hissed through gritted teeth.
"So, what would something like that say about them, I wonder?" Blaise asked, looking directly at him.
"As I completed the lesson first, I think it would say that I'm a better wizard than you." Draco strived for his father's tones, delivering the challenge with icy precision.
Blaise leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the edge and folded his hands elegantly one over the other. It was a pose Draco had effected many times before, one to imply calm and control. For the first time he realized what Blaise was trying to do here, and it made his stomach clench with fear.
He was threatening Draco's position.
"You know what I think, Malfoy?" Blaise asked quietly. "I think you want to fuck Potter."
Gasps rung out around the table, and Draco felt all eyes on him. The pack turning to their Alpha, waiting to see if he could manage to hold onto his rank. Their gazes felt hungry on him, watching for an opening, a weakness. He couldn't give it to them.
"You'd be wrong," Draco returned coolly. "And one would think that you would be the last person at this table to throw around accusations of promiscuity. How is your mother, by the way?"
Blaise's pretty eyes went hateful. Draco thought for a second that Blaise was about to hit him, but mean-spirited cackles rose up like hyena laughter around the table and he turned away, shamed for now. Draco had managed to hold onto his position by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn't stupid. More threats would come, and he'd have to be better prepared for them. He'd grown too comfortable in the role he played, and vulnerable with it.
He'd have to be on his guard from now on.
***
Harry slumped up to bed, his feet dragging the stone steps with the dull scuffing sound of rubber. He hadn't gotten much sleep the past two nights, and today's lesson in Sex Magic had taken quite a bit out of him. Wandless magic was like that. If you weren't ready for it, it sapped you dry.
He entered the room he shared with the other Gryffindor seventh years, and began stripping off layers of his uniform. He'd just shrugged off his sweater and unbuttoned his undershirt shirt when a muffled giggle came from within Neville's closed bed curtains. Harry was quite certain Neville didn't giggle. He was also highly certain that he didn't want to change into his pajamas with a girl in the room.
"Lavender," he called.
Silence stretched for a few moments, and then Harry could hear movement inside of the swaying curtains. A blonde head poked out, flushed pink and grinning shyly.
"Yes, Harry?" she said, and promptly burst into another bout of giggles.
Neville pulled the curtains back, hair mussed and a distinctly smug grin on his face as he swung his legs over the side.
"Sorry," he said to Harry. "Didn't know you'd be coming up so soon."
"Don't worry about it. But, um..." He indicated his bare chest.
Neville nodded. "Out you go, Lav."
Harry raised an eyebrow and mouthed: Lav? Neville shrugged and his grin stretched farther. Lavender got off of the bed with a little hop, and smoothed her skirt down her thighs with her palms. She turned to give Neville a quick goodnight kiss, and Harry respectfully turned away and coughed into his fist.
As she walked by him, she managed to catch his eye and give him a wickedly assessing glance. Harry swallowed. Only bad things ever came from that look. He should know; he'd known the Weasley twins for seven years. Upon reaching the door, she placed one hand on the doorknob and turned to look at him over her shoulder.
"So, Harry," she began. "About that kiss with Malfoy this afternoon..."
"Goodnight, Lavender," Harry told her meaningfully.
She laughed, and blew another kiss to Neville on her way out the door. Neville chuckled and turned to Harry, looking more relaxed and self-confident than Harry had ever known him to be.
"So, Harry," he repeated. "About that kiss."
"Goodnight, Neville," said Harry, and turned away to unbuckle his belt.
Neville laughed and twitched his bed curtains closed again.
Harry changed quickly and slipped between his Gryffindor red- a color he didn't see anything wrong with, thank you very much- sheets with a long sigh. His mind felt slow and fuzzy. The past two days had left him with too little sleep, too much information, and a difficult decision to make.
He knew he had to tell Malfoy. If he didn't, he'd be no better than Dumbledore, Mason and McGonagall. But he was worried about what Draco's reaction would be. In all likelihood, it would be one similar to his own. A dull ache began between his eyebrows and Harry closed his eyes. He felt like he was destined to continually stand at a fork in some dry, desolate road somewhere, forced to choose between two possible destinations that looked equally bleak.
In the end, he decided, he didn't have a choice. Malfoy had to be told, and Harry would have to suffer the consequences. As the popular saying went: 'What else is new?'
Next chapter.
******
Thank you to my wonderful betas, indigorhapsody and moonanddogstar.
******
Rosemary took her position at the front of the class, hands clasped before her, and calmly surveyed her students as their personal conversations dwindled to murmurs and then to nothing as all eyes came to rest upon her. She smiled. It was the little things that made teaching such a joy.
Such as seeing the outright shock and disappointment on a student's face when one announced a lesson that was altogether unsatisfactory. Whoever said that teachers weren't sadists?
She was expecting such a result at today's announcement.
"Today you won't be working in your booths," she told them.
A few groans, a few exchanged looks of poorly hidden disappointment, and Rosemary was struggling to hold in her grin.
"As you all remember, earlier in the year I said that we would work on getting the basics down first, establishing your compatibility with your partners, and then work on bringing a measure of control back into your activities. Now that you've all gotten comfortable in your roles, and confident in your abilities, we will begin to bring the tactical aspect of Sex Magic into the classroom."
Rosemary smiled as a few of the forlorn expressions were replaced with ones of attentive hunger. She noted, with interest, that Draco Malfoy was not among their number. He looked downright sullen.
"For many of you, this class is a way to have sex outside of the Astronomy Tower. Don't think that I am unaware." She smiled smugly at the titters. "For others of you, this is exactly what you signed up for. A chance to learn a rare and exhilarating new branch of magic. Congratulations, you alone won't be disappointed in the weeks to come.
"Before each pair of partners, you will find a small, round stone. Your objective for today is to place the stone between your and your partner's hand, and attempt to change its color. It can be any color, but for better results it would be best if you and your partner decided on one together. Begin!"
The familiar bustle of activity followed, and Rosemary watched as Malfoy turned to face Potter with a scowl. She smiled. This was a new development. Two weeks ago, and either of these boys would have been thrilled with a no contact assignment.
Progress was a beautiful thing.
***
Draco sighed as he turned to face Potter. The other boy was looking a little lost and gazing at the stone resting by their knees as though it might bite.
"Well, let's get to it, then," Draco said.
Taking up the small, flat, gray stone in his right hand, he held it up about chest level. Potter scooted closer, crossed his legs and fiddled with the fabric of his trousers where it bunched at the knees. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Your hand, Potter?" he asked impatiently.
Harry looked up, confused for a second, and then gave a soft: "Oh."
His left hand joined Draco's right, and their fingers entwined around each other. They spared one another an awkward, unsure glance, not sure of how to proceed. Draco looked around at the other students for inspiration, and when he glanced back at Potter, he found him biting his lip and staring at their hands intently.
"Uh, I think we're supposed to... will the rock to change, or something," he said.
Draco gave him a dry look. "Yes, obviously, but how? And what color?"
"Red," Potter decided automatically.
"Merlin, no," Draco replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"What's wrong with red?" Harry wanted to know.
"It's a Gryffindor color, that's what's wrong with it," Draco stated, as though it should be obvious. "I like green."
"Of course you do. It's a Slytherin color."
"Why no, Harry, love. I like it because it matches your pretty eyes," Draco told him in a sickly-sweet tone, batting his eyelashes at him coyly.
Harry grimaced as though in pain. "Don't make me sound like a girl."
"You are a girl," said Draco.
"You're the girl," Harry retorted childishly.
"Boys," a cool voice interrupted. "If you don't mind, I think I'll choose a color for you."
Both boys looked up to see Professor Mason standing above them where they sat on their cushions on the floor. They wore identical scowls of frustration, and she smiled benevolently.
"How about blue? It's a neutral color, and easy to form a clear image of in your minds."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
Draco whipped his head around to glare at him. He waited until Mason had walked away before mimicking him. "Thank you, Professor! Bloody suck up."
"Shut it," Harry sneered at him.
Draco was impressed. Potter had actually executed a passable sneer.
"Blue, then," he said, and closed his eyes.
Without looking to see if Potter had done the same, he tried to focus on a clear picture of the color blue. He envisioned the sky on a good day for Quidditch. The color of his mother's eyes, and the dress robes she wore last Christmas.
He didn't know what he was expecting. Heat, a tingle along the skin pressed to the stone wedged between his palm and Potter's. Or simply the intrinsic knowledge that they had succeeded. He felt none of those, and peeked one eye open to glance at Potter. A moment later, the Gryffindor sighed and opened his eyes.
Both boys slowly unwound their fingers, opening their palms and turning them face up. The stone lay in the crease between their hands, still gray and unchanged.
"I think it looks a little blue," said Harry hopefully.
Draco gave him a dry look.
"Just along the edges," he grumbled bitterly.
"The stone is not even the slightest bit blue, Potter," Draco told him in a clipped tone. "You must've done something wrong."
Draco didn't know why he was being so nasty today, considering his newfound purpose the evening before. He put it down to disappointment at today's lesson. It would figure that just when he'd drummed up the nerve to beat Potter at his own seduction game, he'd find himself thwarted.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry denied hotly.
"Exactly," Draco drawled.
Harry huffed an angry sigh.
"Let's just try it again," he said through gritted teeth.
Draco said nothing, and closed his eyes again. He allowed himself a minute to clear his mind and take steady breaths before bringing what he wanted into focus. He tried to concentrate on the color blue. His mind felt fuzzy and unresponsive, and after a moment of trying to identify the source of this distraction, he registered warm breath and the scent of skin. Potter had leaned closer to him, and from the feel of things, his mouth was only a few inches away.
Draco quashed down hard on the urge to lean forward. He thought harder on the stone to distract himself. Blue, blue, blue, damn it.
It was useless. Potter's breath was warm and moist, puffing out over his cheek. He smelled inviting and familiar, and Draco felt himself swaying forward unconsciously. His lips brushed Harry's cheek, and he heard him gasp. Squeezing their fingers tighter together, he used his grip to pull Harry closer, and angled his head so that their lips met on the next try.
The kiss was unhurried, mouths closed but pliant as they fit over one another. Draco's chest felt full, hot and aching. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the comforting scent of Potter's skin. He was losing himself in the kiss when he felt a searing pain creeping into his consciousness. It spread out from his palm and made him flinch away.
"Merlin's balls!" he grunted angrily, waving his burnt hand in the air futilely.
The stone dropped onto the floor between their knees, blue as a robin's egg and smoking slightly. The two boys looked up at one another with equal parts surprise and satisfaction.
A low murmur from their left drew both boys' attention, and they looked over to see Pavarti leaning in close to Michael Corner and speaking to him in hushed tones, both of them staring directly at them. Draco looked around the room to see similar reactions amongst their classmates.
"Oh, hell," he muttered.
"Congratulations, boys." Professor Mason stepped forward and smiled down at them. "You are the first two to complete today's lesson."
"Oh, bloody hell," Draco repeated, and slumped forward to stare at this shoes.
***
Between the Prophet article, and yesterday's Sex Magic lesson, Draco was getting stares and snickers all around the next day. He endured them as best he could, scowling his way through one class after the next, until dinner finally crawled its way into existence. Another hour, and he could slide between the sheets of his four poster and pretend that articles in sordid news rags and amazingly-good-at-kissing boy heroes didn't happen to Malfoys.
"So, Draco," Blaise drawled from the other side of the table. "How's Potter?"
Draco's eyes narrowed to the point of near blindness. "How would I know that, Zabini?"
"Well, you two seem pretty close lately." Blaise smirked.
"Too close, if you ask me," Pansy chimed in.
"Thankfully, no one did," growled Draco. "Nor ever will."
Pansy made an unattractive snort of disgust that only reinforced her pug-like demeanor, and turned away. Draco brought his attention back to Blaise, who was still smirking into his fork.
"I mean, take last afternoon, for example," the dark, handsome boy continued. He looked around, ensuring that he had an audience. Draco recognized the tactic; it was one he had invented himself. Blaise was gearing up to make him lose favor in the eyes of his peers, and wanted to make sure the spotlight was on himself when it happened. Draco caught his eye and glared.
"Blaise," he warned.
"The rest of us were innocently practicing a new bit of magic, no touching or snogging required," Blaise made sure to point out. "And the next thing we know, Draco leans over to Potter and starts kissing him. They were going at it like they were in love, or something!"
"Blaise..." Draco hissed through gritted teeth.
"So, what would something like that say about them, I wonder?" Blaise asked, looking directly at him.
"As I completed the lesson first, I think it would say that I'm a better wizard than you." Draco strived for his father's tones, delivering the challenge with icy precision.
Blaise leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the edge and folded his hands elegantly one over the other. It was a pose Draco had effected many times before, one to imply calm and control. For the first time he realized what Blaise was trying to do here, and it made his stomach clench with fear.
He was threatening Draco's position.
"You know what I think, Malfoy?" Blaise asked quietly. "I think you want to fuck Potter."
Gasps rung out around the table, and Draco felt all eyes on him. The pack turning to their Alpha, waiting to see if he could manage to hold onto his rank. Their gazes felt hungry on him, watching for an opening, a weakness. He couldn't give it to them.
"You'd be wrong," Draco returned coolly. "And one would think that you would be the last person at this table to throw around accusations of promiscuity. How is your mother, by the way?"
Blaise's pretty eyes went hateful. Draco thought for a second that Blaise was about to hit him, but mean-spirited cackles rose up like hyena laughter around the table and he turned away, shamed for now. Draco had managed to hold onto his position by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn't stupid. More threats would come, and he'd have to be better prepared for them. He'd grown too comfortable in the role he played, and vulnerable with it.
He'd have to be on his guard from now on.
***
Harry slumped up to bed, his feet dragging the stone steps with the dull scuffing sound of rubber. He hadn't gotten much sleep the past two nights, and today's lesson in Sex Magic had taken quite a bit out of him. Wandless magic was like that. If you weren't ready for it, it sapped you dry.
He entered the room he shared with the other Gryffindor seventh years, and began stripping off layers of his uniform. He'd just shrugged off his sweater and unbuttoned his undershirt shirt when a muffled giggle came from within Neville's closed bed curtains. Harry was quite certain Neville didn't giggle. He was also highly certain that he didn't want to change into his pajamas with a girl in the room.
"Lavender," he called.
Silence stretched for a few moments, and then Harry could hear movement inside of the swaying curtains. A blonde head poked out, flushed pink and grinning shyly.
"Yes, Harry?" she said, and promptly burst into another bout of giggles.
Neville pulled the curtains back, hair mussed and a distinctly smug grin on his face as he swung his legs over the side.
"Sorry," he said to Harry. "Didn't know you'd be coming up so soon."
"Don't worry about it. But, um..." He indicated his bare chest.
Neville nodded. "Out you go, Lav."
Harry raised an eyebrow and mouthed: Lav? Neville shrugged and his grin stretched farther. Lavender got off of the bed with a little hop, and smoothed her skirt down her thighs with her palms. She turned to give Neville a quick goodnight kiss, and Harry respectfully turned away and coughed into his fist.
As she walked by him, she managed to catch his eye and give him a wickedly assessing glance. Harry swallowed. Only bad things ever came from that look. He should know; he'd known the Weasley twins for seven years. Upon reaching the door, she placed one hand on the doorknob and turned to look at him over her shoulder.
"So, Harry," she began. "About that kiss with Malfoy this afternoon..."
"Goodnight, Lavender," Harry told her meaningfully.
She laughed, and blew another kiss to Neville on her way out the door. Neville chuckled and turned to Harry, looking more relaxed and self-confident than Harry had ever known him to be.
"So, Harry," he repeated. "About that kiss."
"Goodnight, Neville," said Harry, and turned away to unbuckle his belt.
Neville laughed and twitched his bed curtains closed again.
Harry changed quickly and slipped between his Gryffindor red- a color he didn't see anything wrong with, thank you very much- sheets with a long sigh. His mind felt slow and fuzzy. The past two days had left him with too little sleep, too much information, and a difficult decision to make.
He knew he had to tell Malfoy. If he didn't, he'd be no better than Dumbledore, Mason and McGonagall. But he was worried about what Draco's reaction would be. In all likelihood, it would be one similar to his own. A dull ache began between his eyebrows and Harry closed his eyes. He felt like he was destined to continually stand at a fork in some dry, desolate road somewhere, forced to choose between two possible destinations that looked equally bleak.
In the end, he decided, he didn't have a choice. Malfoy had to be told, and Harry would have to suffer the consequences. As the popular saying went: 'What else is new?'
Next chapter.
******
Thank you to my wonderful betas, indigorhapsody and moonanddogstar.