Harry Potter looked at the post on the bulletin board outside the Great Hall and read with interest. Hogwarts was starting a personals club for students only: witch to wizard, wizard to witch. But what peaked Harry's particular interest was the witch to witch and wizard to wizard personals. And best of all, it was anonymous. Neither would know which student they were writing to unless they wanted to reveal it. And Harry Potter, only just having discovered reluctantly that he was probably gay, had no interest whatsoever in revealing his preferences.

He took down the information hastily and abruptly turned to leave when he bumped into Draco Malfoy. "Well, well," drawled Draco, looking him up and down. "Look who's looking for a little love interest. What's the matter, Potter? Tired of sharpening your own quill?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," he said, trying to get out of his way, but Draco kept getting in front of him.

"Maybe you're just tired of dipping it alone. Funny that the Famous Harry Potter can't get a date. Some lucky little witch won't even get to know she's scratching your parchment in all the right places."

"You're pretty disgusting, Malfoy."

"Am I? Well, maybe it's not a witch you're looking for, eh, Potter? Rumour has it you'd rather ride a nice hard broom than a witch."

Harry's face flared with heat. Was Malfoy only bluffing or did he know something? No, he couldn't possibly know. Harry had never told anyone. Had no intention of telling anyone.

"A broom's better than pug-faced Parkinson, Malfoy. Or is that the best you can do?"

Draco frowned. "Purebloods stick together, Mr. Muggle-Lover."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Malfoy." He finally shouldered his way past him and made for the stairs. He climbed until he arrived at Gryffindor tower, passed through the portrait hole, and trotted up to the dorm without anyone stopping him. Thankfully, no one was there, and he grabbed a quill, some ink, a piece of parchment, and a large book to use as a writing desk. He sat on his bed and almost drew the curtains, but thought it might look suspicious in the middle of the day, so left them open. The instructions said he should fill out a form and drop it into the urn by the bulletin board. Names would be magically matched with preferences and school owls would be used to deliver the letters. It all looked simple. Harry only had to come up with a pen name.

"Let's see. Quidditch Boy? No, too close to the mark. So Firebolt's out as well. Blimey, this is hard." Harry scribbled down several ideas, all of which seemed to point right to him. "Greeneyes…No! Too obvious." He started going through the list of Honeydukes sweets, but that all sounded too gay. Hell, he'd never even snogged a boy. Yet. And there were a few he'd like to. He wondered idly about them as he swept the quill's soft feathery end against his lips. Of course, maybe those blokes weren't gay. How does one tell, anyway? One or two boys were obvious. Talk about your swish and flick! But Harry didn't think he was obvious. And he froze for a second, heart hammering. Was he? Naw. He shook his head. He wasn't swishy. No one would know unless he told them, and they all certainly thought that he was straight. "Sorry to disappoint, girls," he said with a sigh.

He looked down at his parchment. So far he had:

     Gryffindor (uninspired)
     CuddlyCannon (lame)
     CauldronCake (too gay)
     Sugarquill (ditto)
     Owltreat (weird)
     Mugglenot (sounds like a celaning product)
     GobletofFire (too desperate)
     SortingHat (made no sense whatsoever)
     Floo4U (daft)

He sneered and wadded up the parchment. No, it had to be something simple, something plain, something that said who he was without giving away too much. He scribbled LonelyQuill. Yes, he supposed he was. He'd really known he was gay for about a year and had done nothing about it. What could he do? Out himself and really get the mickey taken out of him everywhere he went? No thanks. He was famous enough on his own without that dropped on top of it. LonelyQuill. Yeah. He liked that. And so he wrote:

I've never done anything like this before. I only just found out I was gay…

He looked at it for a moment and quickly glanced toward the closed door. He'd never admitted this before and to have it in print in his own hand was certainly a big step. He turned back to the parchment.

…so I hope this doesn't come off too stupid. Whoever you are, whoever I'm paired with, I'm hoping it won't be too tiresome for you to hear me groan about it. I can't really come out. Too much baggage, you know? But I'd like to talk to someone and maybe…well. I guess I don't know what else. Make a friend?

This has been really stupid, I know. Sorry. But I hope you'll write back. I'm a fifth year and I guess that's all I'll say. I don't suppose we should be mentioning houses. I don't know. Anyway.

Sincerely, LonelyQuill

Harry looked at the parchment and read it again. He shook his head. No matter how long he worked on it, it simply wasn't going to get any better, so he decided to fold it up and take it down to the urn as soon as he could do so unobserved.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast the owls arrived. Hedwig brought a letter from Remus Lupin who started keeping tabs on him ever since his hearing in August. It was really nice of his old professor to write. He really was his favorite teacher at Hogwarts. When he finished reading it, another letter dropped onto his cereal bowl from an unfamiliar owl.

Harry picked up the letter with trembling hands. Ron and Hermione were busy chatting with Neville and Seamus and didn't notice. Harry angled away from them and tore open the parchment. His heart flushed with excitement. It was from his quill pal.

* * *

Dear LonelyQuill,

I didn't think your letter was stupid at all. I know how tough it is suddenly coming out to yourself when you can't to anyone else. I wish I could. But I think we are in the same boat, yeah? So we'll talk. About whatever we need to say. I'm a fifth year, too.

Write me back soon.

Yours,

StormEyes

* * *

StormEyes? That sounded promising. Harry read the short note through again and folded it carefully before stuffing it in his pocket. This was a little exciting. A secret friend. And another gay boy. Of course he knew they were here. And StormEyes couldn't out himself either. He couldn't wait to get a moment alone to write another letter.

* * *

Dear StormEyes,

I was so glad to get your letter. I knew there had to be someone else here like me. It is a bit lonely, isn't it? I keep thinking how fun it would be to go to Hogsmeade with someone I really cared for and not pretend to be with some girl. I don't like hurting people's feelings and I know I've already hurt one girl's. Why does everything have to be so difficult?

When did you first know you were gay?

LonelyQuill

* * *

Dear LonelyQuill,

I know what you mean about pretending. It would absolutely devastate my family. I mean, what a mess! No way can I talk to them about this. And yeah, Hogsmeade would be fun with someone. What do you like best about Hogsmeade? I like Zonko's and Honeydukes, of course. Who doesn't? But did you know there are quiet little spots in the woods to just sit and feel like part of the place? Sometimes I think I would like to live in a little village like Hogsmeade where there are only wizards and witches, but then I sometimes think London would be fun surrounded by Muggles. A little scary, maybe, but fun.

When did I first know I was gay? Ages ago. I was just living in denial. I always liked blokes. There's a few cute blokes here at Hogwarts, aren't there? I wonder if you're one of the boys I think about sometimes. I know you can't tell me what you look like, but do you think you look good? I'm not judging you by it, you understand… Merlin. That was just rude. Forget I said anything. I mean, what are you going to say? 'Sorry, StormEyes. I am an absolute hippogriff, so best stay clear of me.'

Sorry.

Blimey, this is hard asking you questions. If you answer, it inevitably means I'll try and guess who you are. Like if I asked if you played Quidditch, that narrows it down, doesn't it? Or if you're in this class or that class. Although I guess it's safe to talk about Defense and Potions since all four houses have that, and since you are a fifth year…well damn. It still narrows it down, doesn't it?

Oh well. Your turn to come up with a topic.

StormEyes

* * *

Dear StormEyes,

Wow, what a great letter. I loved it! You had so much to say. And it's all so true. But we can't say too much, can we?

Well, Hogsmeade. Yeah, I like Zonko's and Honeydukes. Don't like the tea shop at all. Too girly for me. I didn't know about those little spots you talked about in the woods. Sounds…well, romantic, I guess. A nice spot to bring someone you cared about.

I think I'd like to live in London. In a city. I live in the suburbs and I hate it. A city that's moving and with lots of things to do, yeah. I'd like that, I think.

It's all right to ask what I look like. I think I look pretty average overall. Maybe a bit shorter than most. Only a bit. I guess I can't say what my hair colour is or…anything else. And there are a lot of cute blokes here. Probably not the gay ones, though. Maybe I'm cute. I don't know. I'm not a good judge of those sorts of things. God, this is embarrassing!

Well, which is your favorite class? Potions or Defense? Mine is Defense. I really enjoy it. Usually. Not too keen on it this year.

I only found out I was gay about a year ago. Came across some pictures in a magazine and found myself rather interested, if you know what I mean. Oh Merlin, this is embarrassing, too. I'm really glad I'm writing this down instead of talking to you face to face! I never would have been able to do that.

I'd better sign off now. I hope you continue to write. I'm really enjoying this.

LonelyQuill

* * *

Dear LonelyQuill,

Speak for yourself. I happen to think I'm very cute! But you know. Acting straight. Even sort of have a girlfriend. I know you wouldn't approve, but a bloke's got to get by somehow. And I bet you aren't as average as you think you are. I bet you're pretty cute. Oh Merlin! I wish I could ask you! Okay, just one feature. Can you tell me at least what colour your hair is? Or your eyes? One or the other. I suppose you can guess that I have grey eyes. But that's all I'll say!

My favorite class is Potions. Oh I know Snape is a pain in the arse sometimes, but I really like potions and all the intricacies of them. I often wonder who came up with some of these in the first place. I mean, do you start out thinking, 'I want to make a transfigurations potion' and start throwing things in a cauldron or do you just start throwing things in a cauldron, brew it, and say, 'well look at that! Polyjuice!'

I live in the country. I like it well enough, but sometimes I think it would be fun just to have my own flat, you know?

StormEyes

* * *

StormEyes,

That was a pretty funny letter. I laughed out loud. And I can't believe you have a girlfriend. I admit, I tried it this year, too, but it just didn't work out. I wanted to see if I couldn't get over it, you know. But she didn't do it for me. >Well, if you really want to know, I have black hair. Okay? And that's all I'll say!

I guess when you put it that way, potions do sound more interesting. But I don't really like it all that well. I'm not too good at it. Too many things to know.

I debated with myself about this next bit, whether I should say anything or not. But you really sound like a nice bloke. I wish I could meet you. Maybe we'd hit it off. Of course, maybe we wouldn't. It's really hard to know in just a few letters, isn't it? Of course, I guess everyone's all right deep down, aren't they? So it would still be okay. Oh none of this is making sense. Sorry. Forget it.

I think it would be brilliant to have my own flat. I can't wait, in fact. Only two more years!

I hope this Voldemort thing is over soon. It will sure be easier when no one has to worry over it anymore.

LQ

* * *

LQ: hey I like that.

I guess I shouldn't have let you tell me what colour your hair is 'cause now I find myself trying to decide who you are.

It was nice what you said in your last letter, that you thought I sounded like a nice bloke. Thanks. I happen to think I am a nice bloke. But I think you sort of gave a bit of yourself away. I'm willing to wager you are either in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. It was what you said about everyone being all right deep down. Am I right?

The Dark Lord certainly hasn't made life easy for anyone, has he? Sometimes I wish he'd never returned. People are scared again, but it does make things interesting, doesn't it?

There's a Hogsmeade trip in a fortnight. I wonder if you'll be there. I wonder if I'll see you and not know it. I bet you won't be able to tell you're looking at me, either. Tell you what, if you go to Hogsmeade, go to the street between the tea shop and the stationery shop. There's a tree stump there. I'll leave something for you in the knot.

SE

* * *

Harry read the letter over carefully, furrowing his brow. Something was odd. Obviously, this boy was not from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Harry had looked carefully the other day at all their eyes, and only a few girls from either house had grey eyes. Unless he was lying about the colour. But why would he do that?

So if he wasn't Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, that left Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He immediately wanted to eliminate Slytherin for obvious reasons but something about mention of Voldemort sounded a bit Slytherin. He decided he'd rather concentrate on Ravenclaw. Yes, there was a boy or two there who might fit this description. And they were cute. Harry's heart thumped. Suddenly, he really wanted to know who this boy was!

He dipped his quill and hastily wrote,

Okay, now I'm curious, too. I will go to Hogsmeade and check out that stump. But there was something in your last letter that kind of disturbed me. You said that "sometimes you wish the Dark Lord had never returned." Does that mean that sometimes you like the fact that he's back? I mean, you couldn't have meant that really, could you? He's horrible!

LQ

* * *

Dear LQ,

Well, it's not like you met him face to face. Who knows what he's really like? Maybe there's a lot of twaddle on both sides of it.

I can't wait till we go to Hogsmeade.

SE

* * *

Harry read the letter and lowered it to his lap. Not like he met him? Wasn't that the trouble? He couldn't stop running into Voldemort. And he sure wanted to. But he couldn't very well say that in a letter or it would be a dead give-away.

Who was this boy?

Harry studied the Ravenclaws with more attention than he gave his studies. Grey eyes. There were two boys and he kept a close eye on them, looking for more little clues. He even ended up in the boys bathroom standing next to one of them one day; Titus Anderson. The boy looked up from his business and gave a friendly nod and said, "Potter."

Harry nodded back. "Anderson." They stood a while and Harry looked up at the tiled wall, wondering how the hell one could approach someone and not get a bloody nose trying. "So, Ravenclaw's done really well in Quidditch this year," he said casually.

"Yeah. Not too bad. If you don't kill us, that is."

"Well, I must do my proper job." Speaking of seeking…

Titus finished, tucked himself in, and pulled up his zip. "So what do you think of this Umbridge woman?" He leaned over the tap and washed his hands.

Harry got himself in order and turned around. This was the most he'd ever talked to Titus. Might he be…?

He ran his hands under the water and shook them out. "I don't think much of her."

"I swear. If she clears her throat in that mousy way one more time, I'll shove a bludger in it."

Harry chuckled. "I think I'd like to see that."

Titus looked at Harry. Harry looked back. Titus was pretty attractive. Dark hair, dark grey eyes. He had a sort of Cedric Diggory way about him. Harry tried not to feel guilty at that thought.

"So, Potter, I saw you at the bulletin board when they put up that personals post."

Harry reddened and turned away, trying to hide it by adjusting his book bag. "Yeah, well…"

"It's okay. I signed up, too. Got in contact with some perky little witch. God, I hope it's not Parkinson. Wouldn't that be a disappointment?"

Harry's heart fell. "Yeah. A disappointment."

"Have you guessed yet what witch you've got?"

"Oh…er…no. Haven't a clue."

"Funny if it were Granger, eh? Probably wouldn't be able to look each other in the face."

"Oh it's not Hermione. I'm pretty sure of that."

"That's good. Well, Potter. See you 'round."

"Yeah. Bye." Harry leaned against the wall and watched him go. That was a close one. What if he had said? What if he had hinted? It would have been all over the school. He could just imagine what Malfoy would say to that. "Potter's molesting boys in the bathroom now. Better find a nice tree somewhere, men."

He dropped his face in his hands. Oh God. What was he going to do? He was so hard all the time. And so lonely. There was no one to talk to but StormEyes. Who was he?

* * *

Dear LonelyQuill,

I haven't heard from you in a while. What's wrong? I've been thinking a lot about you lately. And I've been wondering. Have you ever…you know. Done anything? I kissed a boy once and it was great. But I'd sure like to do it again. Maybe with you. What do you think? Or do we have to see what each other looks like first? At first I thought so. But the more I got to know you in your letters, the less it seems to matter to me.

I wish I could talk to my parents about this. My parents are all right, though. I mean, my father has a lot of expectations about me. He pushes a lot, but only because he cares, you know. But sometimes it's a bit too much. I worry that I'll never be the son he really wanted. And especially being gay and all, well. My mother would probably be okay with it. She's really great. And really beautiful. Funny how your parents can live with you all this time and love you, but when it comes to something like this, something so fundamental to who you are, they can't deal with it. Why not? It's as if they didn't love you anymore just because your hair colour is different from theirs.

But I guess you can change the colour of your hair.

Write to me.

StormEyes

* * *

Dear StormEyes,

Sorry I haven't written. There's just been a lot of "things" going on. I'm sorry about your parents…

Harry lifted the quill from the parchment. What should he say about his parents? If he said they were both dead it was another giveaway. If he just said "family" maybe that would suffice. He didn't really want to lie to StormEyes. It seemed important not to.

…My family is just too hard to get along with. They don't like anything I do. And if they found out I was gay, they'd probably chuck me out. Not that I would mind all that much. I can't wait till the day I can move out.

And I guess I've been thinking a lot about you, too. This is really hard. I don't know you, but the more you write, the more I feel I do. Is it possible to have feelings for someone you've never met?

Sorry. Just ignore that last bit. I wasn't gushing or anything. I'm not in love. Don't mean to scare you. Oh, this is such rubbish!

LonelyQuill

* * *

Dear LonelyQuill,

I'm not scared off. And I know what you mean. I feel closer to you sometimes than my friends. Do your friends know you're gay? Mine don't. And I want to keep it that way.

Can I make a confession to you? Yesterday morning, while lying in my bed, I fantasized about you. All I could conjure was some vague boy with dark hair, but I was hard, so I pushed my pajama bottoms down and took my prick in my hand. And with you in mind, I made a long leisurely pull on it. Gave it a good tight stroke, you know. I stroked my cock a few times more and then lowered my other hand to my bollocks and rolled my testicles in my fingers. It felt so good. Imagining you doing it to me. Wanting you to do it to me.

Is this all right to talk this way?

I stroked my cock again and ran my palm over the head. It glistened with a bit of pre-cum and I smeared it all over the blunt tip, pulling the wetness down my shaft and squeezed as I went. Yeah. That was good. I started fisting it faster now. I kept my fingers clenched tight over my prick. I wanted to imagine it was your mouth. Or maybe your arse. Oh God! Makes me hard again just thinking that. Do you think you are a bottom or a top? I think I'd like to top you. It felt so good to touch myself and think of you. I pumped my cock hard, then, going faster until I felt the ache well up from my balls into my belly and out my cock, and I shot cum all over my hand and chest. When I laid back, I rubbed my spunk slowly over my torso, picturing you licking it off.

Did this letter bother you? I hope not. Do you think about me when you get off? Will you think about me the next time you do?

StormEyes

* * *

Dear StormEyes

That letter was so hot! I couldn't believe it! I started reading it at the table in the Great Hall but had to jump up right in the middle of breakfast and return to my dorm. I was so hard. I hoped no one noticed. Good thing for the robes, eh?

You can think about me all you want. Seriously. Because now I'm thinking about you. I've got the curtains closed around my bed as I write this and I've taken my prick out. Your letter is lying next to me and I read the choice bits and it's getting me even harder, if that's possible. My cock aches. The head is dark, almost purple, and my shaft is red. I'm taking it in my hand now and it feels so hot in my palm. I'm thinking of you. Blimey! I give it a stroke and I just feels so bloody good. I imagine it's your hand. You stroke it hard and slow until I can't stand it. I reach a hand up under my shirt to my chest and squeeze a nipple between my fingers, wishing it was your teeth. Oh! That makes me buck my hips. I pump harder into your hand. You squeeze it tighter and I shag myself in your palm. Faster and faster. My cock is rock hard and my hips get into it now. My hand drops to my balls and I squeeze just as…

Sorry about that. I tried to wipe the parchment but I only ended up smearing the ink. I thought of writing this out again on a new parchment but decided you may like it as it is. Is that too naughty? I think I would like to bottom, but also think I would like to top. Do boys do both? I don't know anything about being gay, I'm afraid. Maybe I should get a magazine, but how to get one without everyone seeing the owl deliver it? So I guess you can tell I've never done anything. With a girl or a boy. Well actually, I kissed a girl once, but it wasn't much.

Hogsmeade is in a few days. I'm looking forward to it. I'll sneak away from my friends and find that stump. You'll still write to me, won't you?

LonelyQuill

* * *

A little embarrassed, Harry slipped the parchment into an envelope and trotted to the Owlry. He'd never in his whole life ever written anything like that. And he'd certainly never told a boy before how he wanked. He was hard again thinking about it and what StormEyes would think while he read it. He giggled. This was getting cool. Now he really wanted to meet this bloke. It was true. He didn't care what he looked like either. Unless he looked like Crabbe. That would be a bit hard to take, but even so. Harry knew he could put that aside. It really wouldn't matter who it was. He wanted to meet him.

He walked through the door and Malfoy was just coming out. "Potter," he said in that way that sounded more like spitting. "Writing to your boyfriend?"

"Stealing other people's letters, Malfoy, because no one will write to you?"

Malfoy smiled. The insult seemed to wash over him. "Oh I have someone to write to. Great letters, in fact. Something you wouldn't understand, being illiterate."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

Always with the clever comeback, Potter. You must stay up all night coming up with them. Of course, you've got nothing better to do at night except let your hand service you."

"You sure spend a lot of time thinking about my prick, Malfoy. Sure you haven't got a boyfriend?"

"Shut up, Potter!"

"Ooh. Struck a chord, did I? Or is it my prick you're thinking about?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy draw his wand. Harry rolled out of the way, pulled his wand, and aimed it. "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand flew from his hand and landed in a particularly squishy patch of bird droppings. Harry looked at it and laughed. "Dear, dear," he said, giving the letter to an owl who flew off with it. "That's not going to be pretty." He gave Malfoy a wide smile, and chuckling to himself, left him there.

* * *

Hogsmeade weekend was finally here, and Harry tried his best not to be nervous.

"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You seem nervous."

So much for that. "No. I'm not nervous. Just, you know. Anxious to get going."

"Yes. Term is almost over, isn't it? What are your plans for the summer, Harry?"

"Same old thing. Hope to wangle an invitation to the Burrow."

"Oh I'm sure they'll invite you. You probably don't need an invitation anyway."

"Will you be going, too, Hermione?"

"I expect so. Ginny and I are fast friends."

"Oh yeah. Ginny." He smiled at her as she reddened. Everyone but Ron and Hermione knew that Ron and Hermione had a thing for one another.

They waited in companionable silence in the common room for Ron. Harry glanced at the face of his friend and wondered for the hundredth time if he should tell her. She'd probably be all right with it. It was just Ron he worried about. Harry gamely chuckled along when Ron and Seamus made those remarks boys are always making. But what if Harry told Ron and Ron didn't want to be his friend anymore?

He kept silent, and it was a good thing, because Ron suddenly appeared. "Ready to go?"

They strode into the June sunshine. A soft breeze blew up from the lake in the other direction, and Hogsmeade was soon in view.

"What's first?" asked Ron.

"Hmm?" Harry's mind had been on that tree stump

"Zonko's? Honeydukes?"

Harry caught the look on Hermione's face. "Let's go to Honeydukes. We can go to Zonko's later when Hermione can't stand it one minute more and has to go to the bookshop."

Hermione slapped his shoulder playfully, and they laughed and headed toward the sweet shop.

No matter where they went, Harry was distracted. He kept looking over his shoulder expecting to see his secret quill pal, whatever it is he looked like. Of course there was no one there, because they didn't know it was Harry they were writing to.

Finally, Hermione excused herself to the book shop and Harry and Ron headed toward Zonko's. Ron took one step in and Harry hung back. "Er…Ron. I'll catch up with you in a minute. I just remembered something I have to do."

Ron shrugged and turned back to the shop.

Harry sprinted down the high street and found the tea shop and the stationers. He ducked down the shadowed alleyway to where the lane ended at the woods and saw what must be the stump. He looked around and didn't see anyone. StormEyes had said he would leave something in a knot for Harry and Harry quickly approached. He reached the stump and looked all around it, reaching with his fingers into all the crevices…There! He pulled it out and looked at it. A heart-shaped chocolate with a small note attached. "Something sweet for you, LonelyQuill. Yours, StormEyes." Harry smiled, somehow deeply touched. He brought the wrapped chocolate to his nose and inhaled the rich, sweet fragrance. He didn't know whether to eat it or save it forever. It was his first love token. Then he blushed. That was certainly a girly attitude, wanting to keep the thing instead of eat it.

"What the hell are you doing!"

Harry spun. Draco Malfoy was glaring at him, a deep scowl etched into his face. Harry quickly hid the chocolate behind his back. "What's it to you, Malfoy? Are you following me?"

Malfoy's eyes scanned the little clearing, from the backs of the shops to the forest. He looked nervous. "I don't give a damn about you, Potter. Haven't you figured that out? Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Me? I was here first."

"No you weren't. I was waiting for someone."

"Well there's no one here and it's a free forest, you know."

He pulled the chocolate and note from behind his back and stuffed it in his pocket.

Malfoy noticed it and his eyes widened. "What are you doing? That's not yours!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You stole that!" Malfoy pointed toward Harry's pocket.

He glared up at Malfoy until something hard struck him, right between the eyes. It took his breath away and filled his stomach with a sick feeling. "Y-you…didn't leave something here…did you?"

Malfoy's scowl slowly ebbed away as realization spread over his face. He looked at Harry and Harry looked at him.

"Oh SHIT!" they said at the same time.

Malfoy staggered backwards and Harry sat hard on the stump. They merely stared at one another, horror sweeping over their faces until Malfoy spoke haltingly. "This is a Gryffindor trick."

Harry dropped his face in his hands. "No," he said, shaking his head from side to side. "It's not a trick. I swear."

Malfoy was panting. He looked quickly over his shoulder. "I'm not admitting to anything."

"It's a little late for that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said hoarsely.

"Oh come on!" said Harry, raising his flushed face. He'd never been so embarrassed and sickened in his life. How could it be Malfoy, of all people! How?

Malfoy babbled. "I just-I was waiting-I-"

"I know it's you…StormEyes. Oh God! I should have known! 'Sometimes you wish Voldemort hadn't come back'? I'm such an idiot!"

Malfoy began to shake and he clutched his arms, hugging himself. "It can't be you," he said in a small voice.

Harry jolted to his feet. "If you EVER say anything, Malfoy--!"

"What about you? You better not breathe a word of this."

"I'm sure as hell not going to say anything. In fact, I rather think I'm going to be sick about now."

"Fine. Then keep it to yourself, Mr. LonelyQuill. I don't want any more letters, is that clear?"

"Don't worry! As if I'd write to you again!"

"Too right. I don't want some ponce letter from you, Potter!"

"Who are you calling a ponce?"

Malfoy motioned for Harry to keep it quiet. His voice had risen nearly to a shout. So far no one had noticed them. "All right, all right! Shit! Harry-frigging-Potter. It figures."

"I didn't ask for this."

"I didn't either!"

They fell silent and merely glared. "So…it's agreed," said Malfoy after a pause. "We both don't say anything."

"Agreed."

They looked at each other a moment longer, eyes traveling from head to foot as if seeing each other for the first time. "Okay," said Malfoy softly. Was there a regretful tone in there? Harry wasn't certain. But Malfoy turned then, and walked with slumped shoulders back toward the high street. Harry watched him go, confused feelings roiling inside him.

Harry stood there a long time well after Malfoy departed, wondering what happened to all his happy and excited feelings, and just wishing he was back in bed in Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Harry avoided breakfast for the next few days. It wouldn't feel so bad missing the owls from his quill pal if he wasn't there to see other people's owls, or so he told himself. He told Ron and Hermione he had a stomachache, and that was partly true. Ever since his horrific discovery at Hogsmeade last weekend, he felt ill.

He hadn't touched the letters he still kept under the mattress. What was he to do with them? Burn them? Now that he knew they were from Malfoy, what was the alternative?

Malfoy! Oh God! Why had it been him? Of all the boys in the school, why did it have to be him? He had loved those letters. They were his lifeline. That someone else understood him. Now what was he left with but a bitter taste in his mouth?

Typical Harry Potter good luck, he told himself. Crap.

He had to go to class, and he moaned when he realized it was Potions. Malfoy would be there. But at least they didn't sit together. They sat as far away from one another as possible.

Harry dragged himself to Potions. Not that he liked it anyway. He sat far in the back and when he looked he saw that white blond head at the front of the class. StormEyes. Gods.

The class was typical Snape. Snape growled at Harry for no discernable reason and praised Malfoy with a slithering smile. Once, Malfoy turned back to look behind him, but never turned his head all the way. Harry sunk in his seat as if that would make him invisible.

When class was over, he was still putting his things away when Draco came up the aisle. His grey eyes flicked once at Harry before drawing down again. Harry kicked himself for spending the energy to observe him go, watching the back of that blond head draw into the shadows of the corridor.

Wait a minute. Had he just thought of him as Draco?

* * *

Another term was over and Harry, Hermione, and Ron boarded the Hogwarts Express to return to London. Harry had fallen into a bit of a depression ever since Hogsmeade, but of course, he couldn't tell his friends why. They just owed it to his problems with Voldemort. But Voldemort seemed like a small thing compared with how Harry was feeling these days. He had been so hopeful. At last, maybe he was going to have a boyfriend of sorts. Someone! But it had all been dashed to bits. So Malfoy was a poufter. It made more sense the more Harry thought about it. So that's what was wrong with him. That's why he was so intolerable all the time. He was a closet case. Look who's talking, Potter, he scolded himself. Typical closet case here, too. He sighed. Oh well. At least he had good friends.

He looked at them sitting across from him in their compartment. Hermione and Ron were going on about something as the train lurched, starting off. Harry looked out the window for a while, watching Hogwarts castle grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind a hill. Another summer at the Dursleys. Another two months of listening to Uncle Vernon harangue him, of Aunt Petunia complaining about him, of Dudley pushing him to the brink (and him not able to hex him). The only thing to look forward to was the Burrow, and Ron had said that in three weeks Harry could go. That was a relief, at least. He loved spending the summer there and then going on to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys. It was the only thing he could look forward to now.

Harry felt restless and decided to stroll the train a bit. Hermione and Ron barely noticed when he left the compartment. He staggered down the jostling train and weaved into the corridor between the carriages.

Suddenly, hands grabbed him and dragged him bodily into the loo.

"What the hell--!"

It was Malfoy.

The Slytherin had Harry trapped between the tiny sink and the door, which he locked with a charm.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?"

Malfoy just stared at him in a strange way. And then he edged closer. Harry tried to move back but his bum was already against the sink.

In a very unfamiliar voice, Draco said, "I can't stand it anymore."

Harry's eyes locked with Malfoy's. "Can't…stand what anymore?" he asked softly. His heart began to pound.

Malfoy leaned closer. He didn't say anything. But his hand lifted, hovered, and slowly descended onto Harry's shoulder. Harry turned his eyes toward it and just looked at the long white fingers against his black robes. "How can you stand it?" whispered Draco.

Harry looked at him again. Draco's mouth hung open slightly, his lips moist and red. His eyes, those stormy grey eyes, looked at Harry pleadingly. Harry's breath caught. Oh God. His prick suddenly hardened just as Malfoy slid up against him, his body covering Harry's length. Harry felt something hard press against his thigh. He turned his head slightly, and Malfoy's face was there. He smelled his breath-those harsh rasps pelting his cheek-and turned his face further until his lips brushed across Draco's.

Draco pressed against Harry and took his lips hungrily. A tongue licked at Harry's mouth and Harry opened his lips, sucking it in. Draco's expert tongue explored, seeking out Harry's and caressing it. His lips moved smoothly and sucked on Harry's mouth while their tongues played. His hands weren't idle either, and while one clutched his shoulder, the other slid around Harry's waist. It stayed at his hip for only a moment before it traveled around and down, cupping an arse cheek and squeezing. Then he mashed himself into Harry, slamming their pelvises together.

Harry turned his head and pressed his lips even more fervently to Draco's. There was no question of pulling away. He wanted this as badly as Draco did. His arms wrapped around him tightly until there wasn't a centimeter left between them. Harry ground his pelvis into Draco's and he felt the blond moan in his mouth. Harry responded with a moan of his own and deepened their kiss, savouring his taste.

Fingers reached up under his shirt, and Harry wanted to laugh with pleasure. Draco's hands glided over Harry's sensitive skin, exploring the feel of him. Harry held him tighter, kissed and kissed him, never wanting to let him go. But soon, they both drew back, gasping, but still clutching one another.

"I don't care that you're Harry Potter, do you hear me?" he panted over Harry's lips.

Harry shook his head. "And I don't care that you're Draco Malfoy. I want this."

"Me, too." He kissed Harry abruptly again, but before Harry could sink into another long kiss, Draco pulled his face away. "Harry, it will be all right, won't it? This isn't just…I don't know."

Reluctantly, Draco stepped back. Harry tired to catch his breath and stared at Draco. The Slytherin was really very attractive. His mouth was swollen now from kissing, but his eyes smoldered. His blond fringe hung damply over his eyes with sweat.

"Hormones, you mean?" said Harry when he could speak again.

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Well. We're fifteen. We're nothing but hormones, aren't we?"

Draco laughed a little. "Yeah, but. You know what I mean. We've hated each other for years. How could we possibly consider…this!"

Harry ran his hand up over his hair. It was a mess, he was sure of it. "I don't know. All I know is I was falling for the boy in those letters. And if all of that was the truth, then I guess…" He hadn't wanted to admit that. But it seemed to be true. He was falling for StormEyes. For Draco. Was that possible?

"'Falling for'?" asked Draco with a quirky smile. "Really?"

"Well, I didn't know it was you."

Malfoy snorted. "And I didn't know it was you when I started getting feelings-" He drew himself up. "Well."

Harry smiled shyly. "We're doomed."

Draco chuckled. "Too right."

"Might as well be doomed together, then."

Draco took a deep breath. "It's got to be a secret."

"No kidding."

"I mean it, Harry. If my father got wind of it-"

Harry shuddered. "I know. There's no love lost between your father and me."

"I know." He looked at Harry meaningfully. Then he struck out with, "Damn! And now it's summer and we won't see each other."

Harry's heart sank. Only moments ago, Draco was the one person besides Voldemort that he wouldn't have minded never seeing again, and now Harry wanted more than anything to be with him. "I know," he moaned.

"I'll write to you. Will you write back? We can keep writing, okay?"

"Okay." Harry slid into Draco's arms again. Draco reached up and kissed Harry's forehead.

"But don't send your owl, Harry. It's too recognizable. I'll send you an owl and you'll just have to send a reply with it. Okay?"

"Good idea," he said. Slytherins were good for something. He nuzzled Draco's eyebrow.

"So…so we'll keep writing."

"Yes," Harry whispered, lips trailing down Draco's face. He kissed his cheek, the side of his mouth, his chin. It felt so good to kiss someone!

Draco's hands caressed Harry every place they fell. "God, you feel so good," he groaned.

"I loved your letters," rasped Harry. "I've kept all of them."

"Me, too." He kissed Harry again and pulled quickly away. "We have to get back or people will wonder."

"Right." Harry slowly edged back and frowned. "Our timing is just perfect, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Couldn't be better."

Harry knew that statement encompassed so many things.

Draco released Harry and straightened his tie. He smoothed down his hair where it got ruffled in Harry's embrace and cleared his throat. "So. I'll write to you as soon as I get home. Okay?"

"Okay." He shook his head. "Geez, Draco. I can't believe we're doing this."

He made an attempt at a chuckle. "Neither can I. Seems inevitable though, doesn't it?"

"In a weird way, yes."

He fastened a smirk to his face. "Don't come out right away. See that the coast is clear first." He took the charm off the door and slowly pulled it open. He peered out the door and slipped out. "See you, Potter," he whispered in parting.

Harry slumped against the sink and sighed. Suddenly, the summer holidays looked much brighter. Stranger, but brighter.


On to Part Two
"Summer"

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