Third Place - Angst

Harry burst into the Gryffindor common room out of breath but still did not hesitate to continue up the flight of stairs to the seventh year boys' dormitory. He flung open the door and then stopped at seeing all of its occupants still in bed. Harry looked at the clock and noticed it was only half past nine. Making his way silently to his best friend's bed he made sure to not wake the other boys. He really did not want to hear anymore derisive or nasty comments.

"Ron." Harry shook his friend's shoulder. Ron rolled over and mumbled. Harry shook his shoulder harder and after still no response brought his hand down hard on his friend's backside.

"Yeouch!" Ron jerked up and flipped over to sit on his abused rump. Harry laughed behind his hand.

"Shhhhh, you'll wake everyone up," Harry warned. Ron glared and rubbed at his eyes.

"Well, for some reason I'm up," he grumped. Then realization hit him. "Harry! You're here!"

"Yes. Now, quiet." Ron slapped his hands over his mouth and glanced at the other occupied beds. Other than the occasional snore all was quiet. Ron leaned over to speak quietly to Harry.

"You alright there, Harry? That bastard didn't hurt you did he?" Ron's eyes were heavy with worry.

"I'm good, Ron. Promise. But I need to talk to you and Hermione. Can you ring her?" Ron nodded and got up to rummage in his trunk. Pulling out a small cloth wrapped bundle, Ron unwrapped it and revealed a small copper bell. He shook it briefly, letting it peal for just a moment and then quickly wrapped it back up. Both boys quickly surveyed the other occupants, but again, no one stirred.

"Okay, give me a minute to get dressed and I'll meet you down in the common room. Knowing Hermione, she was already up and finishing this weekend's homework when she heard the bell." Ron rolled his eyes, grabbed some clothes out of the trunk and made for the bathroom. Harry pulled clothes out of his own truck and quickly dressed. He snuck down the stairs again and sure enough, not a moment later, Hermione appeared. When she saw who was waiting for her she flew down the last remaining steps.

"Harry! Are you all right? Should I get Madame Pomfrey?" she fussed.

"No, Hermione, I'm fine. Really. I only have a few minutes before I've got to meet Draco." He pulled over to a quiet corner and they both sat in opposite armchairs. "Have you read anything about Lustrum?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, just last night I finished a well written essay that was published in one of the books we got. What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

"Ok, well, it's pretty much how Malfoy described it. It's the mating season for the Indago. It varies on the actual day, but the consensus is that it always begins in the first week of October. This is to allow the offspring to be born in spring. Which is most likely a throwback to the Dagodine so that food was plentiful for their young."

"Hermione! You're sounding like a text book again." Ron came around and flopped down into the other empty chair. Harry quickly intervened when he saw Hermione round on Ron with death in her eyes.

"Ok, about the 'young' part. Tell me about that bit."

Hermione sent one glare at Ron but quickly refocused on the subject. "Right. Just like most, um, animals the mating season is the time in which the young are conceived."

"So does that mean that I could, uh, get knocked up at that time and only at that time?" Harry asked with a wince.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. That is the time in which your body becomes fertile. Although, this close to Lustrum, you may not have been exposed to enough pheromones to stimulate your body's fecundity." Getting confused faces, Hermione tried again. "In other words, your body, as of three days ago, was still considered sexually immature in Indago terms. Since Draco has," she scrunched her face in dismay, "initiated you in sexual matters, your body has now been given the key that will enable it to do what it's meant to. But since it just started receiving the correct chemicals to induce it to fruitfulness, it may not be at peak levels. Which means, in simple terms, Malfoy may end up just shooting blanks."

"Ahhh." Both boys' face lit up in understanding. Hermione shook her head.

"Okay, but say my body is at peak levels. What happens? How do I know if it is? Will I act differently?" Harry asked rapidly.

"Well, when Lustrum begins you will act differently. I do believe you have been exposed enough to incite that."

"How differently?" Harry asked worriedly, visions of cats in heat with their rumps in the air flashed in his mind.

"I imagine that you will feel a bit warmer as your body temperature rises. It's not clear why that happens. Also, you'll crave sweets for their sugar content. It helps in your energy levels and is apparently needed for other biological reactions. But the biggest difference is that you will, um," Hermione bit her lip and gave an apologetic look to Harry. "Well, you will crave to be touched by a Supero."

"Oh, gross," Ron muttered.

"Ron, would you please be just a bit sensitive!" Ron looked sheepishly over to Harry.

"Sorry, mate."

Harry waved it away; more concerned with the information then the reaction. "I'll crave it?

"Yes, you'll seek them out and, well, kind of throw yourself at them." At Harry's horrified look, Hermione reached over and touched his knee in comfort. "It's just nature's way of continuing the line. It has nothing to do with your actual wants. It is just your instincts."

"Yeah, well, my instincts suck. So does Mother Nature!" Ron nodded his agreement.

"It only lasts for a maximum of five days, Harry. And it's not as if you will be stripping down and parading about." Hermione tried to reassure him.

"Yeah, but Malfoy will be eating it up!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, but he'll also be in Lustrum, which means he'll not want to hurt Harry during this time. His instincts will be looking at Harry as the possible bearer of young, therefore he will be treating him much differently." Hermione argued.

"How different?" Harry wanted to know. "And does his season start before mine?"

Hermione cocked her head in question, eyes narrowing. "Why, Harry? Has he started behaving differently?"

Harry looked between his friends a moment. "Well, he acted a bit nicer to me last night."

"Nicer?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Yeah. He, um, he wasn't as rough. I mean he started off like that." Harry thought a moment. "No, wait, he wasn't rough at first at all. It's just that he wanted me on the bed," Ron winced, "and I got... well, don't tell everyone, but I got scared."

"No one would blame you for being scared, Harry," Hermione said gently. Harry nodded but still spoke quietly as if revealing a secret.

"Well, anyway, I did and Draco got mad and I thought he was going to, well, force the issue. But he didn't. Instead, he..." Harry looked at Ron in apology. "He had us take a shower together." Ron scrunched his face up in disgust. A throw pillow hit him in the face and he quickly got rid of the look.

"A shower?" Hermione asked putting her arm back down.

"Yeah. The thing is, I don't think he could, uh, perform because I was scared. He had me wash him and massage him and he kept telling me I wasn't going to be scared and then when I wasn't, he-," Harry took a deep breath. Discussing your sex life was not exactly the easiest thing, but it was near impossible when it involved your sworn enemy. Looking back up, he continued. "When I wasn't scared anymore, he, y'know, picked up where he left off." Ron made a strange sound but his face betrayed nothing.

"That's wonderful, Harry."

"How is that wonderful?" Ron exclaimed.

"Because, first of all, Harry is right. Draco most likely could not 'perform' because Harry was scared. Superos are brutal, but they also have a responsibility to their subs. The natural inclination for him would have been to fight off whatever was threatening Harry. Since it was himself, the next logical step would have been to calm him down." She turned to look at Harry. "He did that by becoming non-threatening to you. He acclimated you to his body via the shower and massage. In essence, he de-traumatized you."

"Is de-traumatized a word?" Ron wondered aloud, but was ignored.

"That means the instincts are already taking over his body, Harry." Hermione smiled. "He should start treating you a bit nicer and only becoming exceedingly violent when provoked. And if you become pregnant he will almost dote on you!"

"Hermione! You're practically giddy!" Ron chastised. "Untwist your knickers and think about what your saying."

Hermione blushed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to sound so blithe."

"It's okay, 'mione. I know you were just excited about keeping me safe." Harry smiled at her and she returned it with a smile of relief.

"So then Malfoy starts to treat Harry like a human then?"

"Well, not quite, Ron. But he will stop acting like the Draco Malfoy we all know and hate, and more like a, well, like a volatile boyfriend, I suppose."

"Hermione," Ron said darkly, "never refer to Malfoy as Harry's boyfriend in my hearing ever again."

Harry looked up at the sound of people moving around on the landings above. "Bollocks, I've got to go. But, I'll be in Hogsmeade." Harry got up to go and then remembered the other important thing. "Oh! I forgot to tell you. I'm being made to move in with him."

"What!" Ron exploded out of his chair, Hermione quickly following.

"Dumbledore came to his room today and asked about it. Draco said that he wanted me there, I told him I didn't want to, but it didn't work."

"Wait, you told him you didn't want to? You argued against something he wanted?" Hermione asked in shock.

"Well, I didn't mean to, but yeah," Harry admitted, not sure why he was feeling a bit guilty in front of his friends.

"You see? Things are starting to even out. I must say, the speed at which it is happening is quite surprising though. But I couldn't be happier!" Hermione gave Harry a tight squeeze.

"But, he has to live with Malfoy!" Ron yelled.

"Well, that's where he wants to be, isn't it? So he can be closer to his lover."

Harry sighed and turned to face Duncan, the sixth year from last night's argument. Harry had to admit he had never particularly liked Duncan. He was too loud and arrogant. He liked playing tricks on people, but not of the nice variety. In fact, Harry was a bit ashamed to admit that Duncan kind of reminded him of his father from the memory of Snape's he had witnessed. Duncan was a bully who hid behind a laugh and a "Lighten up, it was just a joke".

"Good morning, Duncan," Harry said pleasantly. "I was just leaving." Harry started to walk around the big sixth year but Duncan stepped back into his path.

"What? You feeling the leash tightening and you gotta go see what he wants?" the boy said nastily. Harry looked up and noticed there was once again a crowd gathering. He tightened his jaw and took the challenge head on.

"No, it's just that the smell in here became awful a moment ago, and now I see why," he said giving Duncan a pointed look. The other boy reddened and his face became vicious.

"Duncan, go away!" Hermione said sternly.

"You're nothing but a filthy animal, Potter," Duncan seethed, ignoring her. He leaned down a bit to come nose to nose with Harry. "Now we know why you were able to defeat Voldemort. Our side just fought fire with fire. Nasty monster with nasty monster."

"You lousy son of a bitch!" Ron yelled. He pushed in between them and shoved Duncan back a pace. "Don't you ever call Harry that again, you bastard!"

"It's okay, Ron. He's really not worth the breath." Harry grabbed his friend's shoulder and pulled him back. He turned to his friends. "I'll see you guys in Hogsmeade, yeah?"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said, relief in her eyes at Harry's calm tone. Harry gave her a smile and turned to leave. That was when the fist caught him.

"Harry!"

Harry hit the ground hard but instinctively rolled and came back up quickly. Ron was on Duncan and was giving as good as he got. Hermione was at Harry's side, checking his face while Dean and Sam and a couple of others broke up the fight. Ron and Duncan were both breathing heavy and bleeding; Ron from his lip, Duncan from his obviously broken nose.

"Detention, Mr. Ferguson," Hermione said in her best Head Girl voice. "You will serve it with Mr. Filch tonight."

"Ron was fighting too," Lavender called out.

"He was defending a stricken housemate."

"Sure he was," was heard from somewhere else in the room. Similar grumbling could be heard as the crowd dispersed. Harry turned to his friends.

"It's probably for the best that I'm not here anyways."

"Perhaps you're right. If I had known they would resort to violence..." Hermione trailed away in dismay.

"Stupid bleeding idiot! I'll make sure he doesn't come around you again, Harry!" Ron was still breathing heavy and watching Duncan escorted out to the infirmary.

"Thanks, Ron, but it's okay. I just didn't see it coming." Harry looked at the clock over the mantle. "I've really got to go. I'll see you soon," Harry called out as he walked through the common room doorway and started down the stairs. Thankfully, the stairs going to the main doors branched off from the ones going to the infirmary and he didn't have to worry about running into Duncan and his friends. To think that his own house had turned on him so violently. You would think they were Slytherins with the way they were behaving.

Quickening his pace he began to jog through the rest of the hallways and out into the morning sunshine. It was a nice day, but there were clouds on the horizon that were sure to bring rain later on. Harry passed the waiting Thestrals and quickly sighted the Main Gates. His heart dropped when he saw a yellow haired figure already near them. This was all he needed this morning.

Slowing to a stop in front of the obviously annoyed Draco, Harry spoke quickly, "I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Draco's hand shot out and Harry instinctively flinched. But instead of hitting, the hand grabbed his chin and turned his face up towards the light.

"Who did this?" Draco asked in his dangerously silky voice. Harry realized that Duncan must have hit hard enough to leave a mark. Funny that it barely hurt.

"The Gryffindors still aren't happy with me. There was a small fight," he explained.

"I did not ask why or how, Potter. I asked who," Draco snapped. The desire to please immediately decided to rat out the culprit to save Harry's skin.

"A sixth year named Duncan Ferguson," he said quickly.

Draco studied his face and then let his hand drop. "Did you win?"

"Ron got between us before I could do anything but get up off the ground," Harry said with a self-deprecating smile. Draco narrowed his eyes and Harry quickly blanked his face. Turning on his heel, the blonde strode through the open gates and headed to Hogsmeade. Harry quickly followed.

The lake was a bright blue with golden highlights as the sun played on the ripples. He waved to the squid as it came up to sun its self on this unseasonably warm day. Ahead of him, Draco appeared lost in thought. But as much as he was enjoying the walk, Harry did wonder why they were walking at all. Taking a couple of quick steps, he caught up to Draco and rubbed the back of his hand against the other's arm.

"What?" Draco asked nonchalantly.

"Why are we walking?"

"Because I enjoy it. I walk to Hogsmeade and I ride back."

"Oh," Harry said. He dropped back again and resumed his enjoyment of the day. He thought about the fight and was actually glad now that Draco was making him move. He still didn't like the 'making' part, but the move was probably for the best. Hermione couldn't use her status to protect him, if the nastiness after her rightly called for chastisement of Duncan was anything to go by. And she and Ron still had to live there, so Harry wasn't doing them any favors by being a catalyst for fights and arguments. So, moving out was a good idea; it was the place he was moving in to that was the problem.

They were just passing the first thatched cottages when the carriages carrying the other students began arriving. They would stop further down the road, so he and Draco would still be alone for a bit longer. He hoped Hermione and Ron were in the first batch of carriages of the day. Draco veered off the main road and stepped inside a shop that had just opened for the day. It was Honeydukes and Harry couldn't have been happier to follow after him.

"Ah, Master Malfoy, one of my best customers," Mr. Honeyduke exclaimed. "Mr. Potter as well. Wonderful, wonderful. What may I get you gentlemen?"

Draco stepped to the counter and perused the assortment laid before him. Harry stayed close but kept eyeing the fresh fudge Mrs. Honeyduke was putting out.

"First, I wish to establish a line of credit." Draco's voice had taken on an imperious tone that sounded a bit too much like his father's for Harry's comfort. "It will be for ten galleons in Ronald Weasley's name. This is confidential and not to be discussed with anyone, including the recipient."

Harry almost choked on his tongue and he was sure his eyes would pop out of his head.

"Yes, of course, it will be available immediately." Mr. Honeyduke wrote the proper information on a parchement, which was then magically melded to the register. "Anything else?"

"Yes, a pound of the fudge there," Draco nodded towards the batch that Harry had been coveting, "and a box of Chocoballs."

"Right, and anything for you, Mr. Potter?" Mr. Honeyduke waited expectantly.

"I have already ordered for him." Draco waved the man off and Mr. Honeyduke smiled affably and went about collecting the requested items and boxing them up.

Draco paid for the items and then stepped out of the shop. With eyes still open wide in surprise, Harry watched Draco place the shrunken packages in an inner cloak pocket.

"Plan on catching a lunch of flies with that wide open mouth, Potter?" Draco asked without looking up from what he was doing. Harry snapped his jaw shut.

"Why did you do that for Ron, Draco? Ten galleons? That's, that's..."

"Less than my shampoo costs. What of it?"

"But, you gave it to Ron?" Harry was literally dumbstruck. He couldn't think of a time when he was more astounded and that included the time Hagrid showed up at his door on his eleventh birthday and the other day when he was told he wasn't exactly all human.

"Yes. Now, we are going to Gladrags, because you will not accompany me in those things," Draco pointed at Harry's clothing. Harry looked down at himself. He had to admit that he could have picked a little better, but he had been in a hurry and hadn't paid attention. The trousers were a bit big and had a few worn spots and the jumper had more than a few pulled threads. Draco on the other hand looked like he had just stepped out of a Madame Malkin's catalog. In head to toe gray and black, which contrasted perfectly with his pale hair, Draco looked immaculate.

Harry was not allowed to choose what he wore out of Gladrags, nor was he allowed to pay for it. Draco had already taken care of it by the time Harry had finished in the dressing room. When he asked, Draco narrowed his eyes and sarcastically said, "I assure you, Potter, I did not waste my money on finer material for you." Harry still didn't know what had happened to the clothes he had walked in with. But, he liked the look of the royal purple top and the cut of the black trousers. It was a subtle blend of wizard and muggle fashion that suited Harry perfectly. He wasn't sure where this benign Draco had come from, but was not going to rock the boat. He decided to just keep quiet and hope that Hermione was right about the whole pheromone thing.

They were walking along the lane when the other students coming from the opposite way started to appear. Harry became nervous at the reaction of him in bought clothes walking a few paces behind Draco would encourage in the form of insults and other abuse. He hoped Madame Pomfrey had botched the repair of Duncan's nose. Or at least made it so pretty that hitting it would be a distinct pleasure.

A flash of light caught his attention and he saw a man with a camera taking a picture of a female student up ahead.

"Remember what I said, Potter," Draco growled. "You don't say a word to them. I will do all the talking."

Harry saw what Draco had noticed sooner. There wasn't just one man with a camera, there were several. And others accompanied them with quills and pads.

"If I don't say anything it'll look like I'm a complete slave," Harry said.

"And that is a lie, how?" Draco asked with false confusion.

"I don't want the world to think that I can't speak for myself or think for myself. I am not your slave, Malfoy!" Harry argued hotly, completely forgetting his relief earlier at being told to keep quiet. Draco spun quickly and grabbed Harry's upper arm in a painful grip. The blond brought his face close Harry's. Silver met green.

"You are my slave, Potter," he rasped between clenched teeth. "But if you would like me to remind you of that fact, here in front of the press, then by all means, continue your antics."

Harry was amazed when he didn't back down. The desire to please was extremely anxious but the voice was having its field day. "I am not having 'antics', Draco. I am just trying to explain to you that I don't want to look like a whipped idiot!" Harry whispered fiercely back. Draco's eyes narrowed and the hand around Harry's arm tightened to the point that Harry expected to hear a bone snap. He decided he better cool things down quick. "Draco, please," he said in a gentler tone. "If I look like a drooling fool, hyped up on these pheromones, then what does that say about you? How does that make Draco Malfoy look?" He saw Draco's mind quickly making the calculations. "It will look like the only way you could have me was to practically drug me up. If I speak, not to embarrass you or just parrot what you say, I'll look more like myself and it will show that you are obviously the stronger one, with or with out the smell thing."

The hand around his arm loosened enough that he could feel the blood rush back into his hand. Draco's eyes were still narrowed, but no longer in anger but in thought. Looking over to the crowd gathered in front of Dervish & Banges. Just then a student pointed up the street and immediately a gang of the media came running towards them.

"You had better be careful there, Potter." Draco let go of his arm and began straightening Harry's clothes, brushing away imaginary wrinkles before doing the same to himself. "If I think that 'smell thing' isn't doing its job, I may have to resort to physical reinforcement."

Harry didn't get the chance to respond before the press descended.

"Harry, tell us why you have decided to become a magical creature?"

"Mr. Malfoy, is it true that you were the one to send Harry to defeat You-Know-Who as a test?"

"Harry, do you believe that you are an adequate sex-slave?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer that ridiculous question but was beaten to it by Draco. The blonde held up his hands and the crowd stilled and waited expectantly. Harry was at once annoyed and awed at that ability and the fact that Draco had been addressed as 'Mr. Malfoy', while he had been just 'Harry'. You'd have to question who the hero was here.

"Ladies and gentleman," Draco began, once again using that smooth and superior voice learned at his father's knee. "If you'll allow me, I shall explain everything as briefly as I can. Then you may have a moment for pictures, but then I must insist that you leave us and our school mates to enjoy our free time." He gave them an icy slick smile. "The rigors of school are such that we take our recreation very seriously. As I'm sure you remember." The crowd chuckled and nodded.

"Very well, as you may know, and I shall now confirm for you, Harry and I are Indago. On my part, I knew my heritage but it was kept secret do to the fear that You-Know-Who would use me as a blood-frenzied weapon. My father, as any loving father would do, kept it quiet with the help of a potion that Professor Snape developed. This potion, which my godfather lovingly created for me, inhibited my instincts along with my magical abilities and powers. But due to a blight of insects destroying the needed ingredient, I have recently come off the potion. And for your information, I shall not be returning to it now that the threat is over." Draco gave a wolfish smile that the press ate up. "But in these turn of events it was discovered that my schoolmate, Harry Potter, was also an Indago, but was unaware of it. It has come to light that the blood trait also ran through his maternal family, which apparently were not muggles but squibs." Many people gasped at this news. "Yes, shocking is it not. So, to tie up any questions you may have, I can assure you that we are dealing with these events as best we can and as privately as we can."

"Yes, but you must have an answer to a rumor that is being passed out through the students," a daring young man interjected. Draco raised an eyebrow in question. "It is believed that you are mistreating Harry and treating him as your own personal toy. It is said that you two have been bitter rivals since first year and you are now taking advantage of your higher status in the relationship. And, that in fact, Harry is enjoying the beatings and low behavior."

"My dear man, I hope you are not basing your journalistic career on schoolroom gossip? What would your fellows think?" the crowd chuckled and the man reddened. "But, to answer your veritable charges, yes, we have been rivals. For Merlin's sake, we are from Slytherin and Gryffindor! What else could we be?" Again a round of smiles and chuckles was heard. "And I assure you that treating Harry like a toy would be as easy as defeating Voldemort, don't you think?" All eyes turned to the only person able to have done that particular deed at such a tender age. "Now, have I been mistreating him? Perhaps, there may be a bit of truth in that." Harry almost lost his blank visage over that admission. "But, you must understand that both Harry and I are dealing with instincts that have only been in a human brain for a thousand years. Why, Ollivanders has been in business longer than our race has. So, yes, perhaps I lost a bit of my control. But, as you can see, Harry is quite fit and well and far from being a beaten wreck of a man." Draco smiled kindly at Harry. Harry decided to play to the media as well and smiled back.

"Harry, do you agree with what Mr. Malfoy is saying?"

Harry turned and calmly looked at the crowd. "Yes, he summed it up in a nutshell."

"So, then you agree that he has lost control a few times? Has he hit you?"

"Sure." Everyone gasped and Draco stiffened beside him. "Oh, did you mean after he went off the potion? I thought you meant ever, because we and a couple of other students got into a big fight on the Quidditch pitch one year and we both knocked each other about." Draco relaxed and many of the men and women smiled knowingly at the children's rambunctious behavior.

"We will end the questions now, so that we may continue with our hard won day of leisure. So, you may take a few photos and we shall be on our way," Draco stated firmly, but in an oily congenial tone that the gathering was completely taken by it. The photographers came to the foreground and Draco and Harry were directed to stand nearer to each other as the flashes went off. Harry thought he would go blind before it was over. But after only a minute, Draco held up his hands again and ended the session. He cordially thanked them all and smoothly sent them away. Harry wished Rita Skeeter had been in the crowd. He knew Draco would have never been able to pull that kind of thing off with her there.

"Very good, Harry," Draco said as they made their way down the street toward Scrivenshaft's. "You handled that well."

Harry tried not to preen over the praise but the desire to please couldn't be happier. "Thank you, Draco. You did really well too. But you sound a lot like your father."

"I should hope so. He taught me everything on how to handle everyone from merchants to news reporters."

Harry looked at Draco oddly as they entered the dark interior of the quill shop. "Your father taught you how to handle the press? Why?"

"A Malfoy must be prepared for everything," Draco stated simply and then moved forward to be fawned over by the proprietor.

Draco bought new quills made of the finest feathers and ink made from handfed squids from the Bermuda Triangle. When Harry was attracted to a beautiful emerald inlaid inkpot, Draco nonchalantly directed the merchant to include it in the bill as well.

"Draco? Are you buying that for me?" Harry asked as the item was wrapped carefully.

"Didn't you like it, Potter? Besides, yours is no doubt as second hand as the Weasely's." Draco never even looked at Harry as he spoke, instead inspecting a new line of enchanted parchment that was guaranteed to never wrinkle or tear.

"But, if I want something, then I'll pay for it." Harry's voice had become belligerent. He came closer to Draco so that the students that had just come in the shop didn't overhear their conversation. "I can afford to buy myself something if I want it." Draco turned to look over Harry's mutinous face. He leaned his elbow on the counter and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure. You just buy ill fitting, worn, and awful clothing as a social statement, then? Because I will tell you now that if your wardrobe is full of items similar to the examples from earlier, I assure you they will be burned and we will make an extended trip to a reputable clothiers."

Harry scowled at having his clothes labeled as awful. "I just don't worry about that kind of stuff. If you hadn't noticed, I was kind of busy there for a while."

"Yes, yes." Draco waved away the words. "But, now you're not and I still see no improvement." Draco turned around and walked further into the store to look over new frog skin parchment roll cases. Harry followed him, but not out of obligation. Walking quickly, Harry stepped in front of Draco, forcing the blonde's attention back to him.

"If I want nice clothes," Harry blushed when Draco raised his eyebrow again. "What I mean is that if I really wanted fancy, expensive stuff than I would buy it. I do have money, you know, and I can take care of myself."

Draco smirked. "Come off it, Potter. We both know why you go about like an indigent child." Draco moved a step closer and Harry realized that he had placed himself between Draco and a store display. He was now pressed against the parchment cases and Draco's chest. Draco's voice lowered. "Because you're a good chap, yes? A true and loyal friend who would never in a million years ever think to hurt one of his nearest and dearest. So, instead, the rest of the school must be forced to watch you parade about in rags using quills with hardly any feathers left, a banged up inkwell, and a moth-eaten bookbag so that you never chance to show up anyone in your circle." Harry's eyes widened and he took a sharp breath in. "Ah, did I hit a bit close to home? Or did you actually think that no one knew what you were about?"

"It really has nothing to do with you, Malfoy." Harry's lips tightened and he forcefully shut out the desire to please as it urged him to back down and take a more proper tone of voice. Draco's eyes flashed for a moment but he regained his pleasant smirk.

"It actually does have something to do with me. But I shall give you the edited version. You see, I am the reason you will now wear proper clothing and use finer materials. I am your out, Harry. Think of it like this," Draco waved his hand towards the interior of the store. "You can have anything you want because I demand that you have it. You can help your friends blame me for your new station in life. Weasley may thrash about and gnash his teeth at my high-handedness and you may show how fit and attractive you are without the distraction of ratty clothes and inferior tools." Draco turned at the sound of his name being called. He stepped over and signed where the shop owner asked him to and took the shrunken package. He turned back to a befuddled Harry. "Besides, I don't pay anything here. The bill goes to my father. I don't have to spend a sickle on school materials. Now come, we are going to eat. I'm starving."

Harry, still stunned at Draco's words, silently followed.

Indago - Chapter 22

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