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She wasn't being nosy. Harry would absolutely disagree with her on that point. So would Ron. Though, he'd be gentler about it. This was why she hadn't breathed a word about her plan and ended up sneaking around like a naughty first-year, holding her breath as Mrs Norris prowled past her.
Harry had made it easy for her. He never looked after his stuff. She had found his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map under his bed. Honestly. Seeing his prized possessions discarded so haphazardly had at least assuaged her guilt.
And, yes, she did feel guilty. She didn't want to intrude, she didn't want to stick her nose where it didn't belong, she wasn't trying to be controlling. She was just… concerned. Harry had been moody and withdrawn after they had come back to Hogwarts, even more so after he had broken up with Ginny. And Hermione understood and she gave him space. She did. She knew him well. She knew he needed it.
But lately, his mood had improved, and that ought to have been a cause for celebration, except, he had also become frightfully elusive. Always vanishing in the evenings, without explanation, only a reproach and a sigh if Ron and she dared to ask where he was off to. Ron claimed he had found a new girlfriend, and, yes, of course, it was possible. But so very unlikely. Hermione would have noticed if a girl had caught Harry's interest. He had never been subtle.
She could be wrong, she was aware. But why all the secrecy then? She had seen him tonight, or rather seen his name on the map, disappearing in the fifth floor corridor. He was there, right in front of the Timothy the Timid's portrait, and then he simply vanished. There was a secret passageway there, but as far as Hermione knew it wasn't unplottable. Meaning Harry had made it unplottable. That was an impressive bit of magic, and if Harry had gone out of his way to learn it, there had to be a big secret he was hiding.
And, no, she really wasn't nosy. She wasn't here to learn the big secret. She was here to make sure Harry wasn't hiding from his well-meaning, concerned friends, wasn't pretending his mood had improved to spare them, wasn't alone, in a secret, unplottable room, suffering in silence and solitude. That would have been horrific, and Hermione couldn't stand it.
Still, she hesitated for a moment, as poor Timothy blushed and shifted his weight in the portrait, even though he couldn't see he had company; the Invisibility Cloak covered her from head to toe. She checked and made sure several times.
She'd be lying if she claimed she wasn't slightly worried Harry was, in fact, entertaining a girl in there. She didn't want— Well, she didn't want to see that.
It was just so unlikely. And she would be quick. And quiet. A little peek, and if by some miracle Ron was right, and Harry wasn't alone, she'd slip right out. No one would ever know. Especially not Ron.
Resolved, Hermione took a breath, lifted her wand, and spoke the password. Nothing happened, seemingly, but Hermione had used this passage before. The solid wall should have transformed and would let her through. She took a step, and another, squinting, just in case. Another step and she was right in—
Oh.
Oh no.
She was wrong. She was so unbelievably wrong.
She was— He was— They were—
On some other occasion, Hermione might have noticed how very large the room was, how richly decorated, how delicately lit. Or she'd admire the lavish and enormous four-poster bed placed right against the opposite wall. It was all there at the edge of her vision, but she could not perceive any of it, nothing at all, except the image framed by the carved bed posts and overhanging red curtains.
Two naked male bodies… Entwined. And — ah — connected.
Harry. It was Harry. A very naked Harry, lying down on his back, hands pressed up against the pillow, as though in surrender. His legs were bent, spread, high up, hooked on… Draco Malfoy's elbows. Draco Malfoy, who was kneeling between Harry's legs, also so very naked, and sweaty, thrusting his… into Harry's…
Oh, dear Lord.
She had to— She couldn't move. The shock had frozen her. But she had to—
"No, no, Potter. Come on."
The sound of Malfoy's voice was another shock. As though up until the moment he spoke, Hermione's mind did its best to convince her it wasn't him. Just someone who looked like him. But she'd recognise that voice anywhere. That Potter, spat out like an insult. Even… even at such a moment.
Malfoy spoke again. "No touching. I'll make you come like this. You'll see."
"Fuck."
That was Harry. That was Harry moaning out that word and returning his right hand back to its place on the pillow. He had tried to… um, touch himself.
But why was he— Why was he letting Malfoy do this? And listening to him? Not just that, he was… answering Malfoy's thrusts with thrusts of his own, moving his body, his hips, gasping, as though…
"That's it, Potter. Come on. I know you're close." Malfoy sounded so breathless. But of course he did, he was… God, it looked so brutal.
And Harry was…
Hermione yelped as a long streak of come shot out of Harry's… Oh my.
Belatedly, Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. She got lucky. Because Harry had groaned so loudly. He was still panting, writhing, squirming on the bed as Malfoy kept going. Slamming in, so rough, but Harry kept saying, "Yes," and "Oh God." As though he loved it.
Hermione closed her eyes tightly. It didn't help her much because she could still hear them. She heard those wet, slapping sounds that had her blushing all the way to her ears. And they were both groaning, panting. It was just so… wanton. And it went on and on…
She took a careful step back, one hand behind her, desperately searching for the exit. She was terrified the wall had closed up, turned solid again, but her hand passed through easily.
Relieved, she almost took another step back, out of the room and far away from something she never should have witnessed, but then she realised — she was in shock. She was in shock and not thinking clearly at all. It didn't matter she didn't want to see this. What mattered was that this was Draco Malfoy. He and his family weaselled out of Azkaban, thanks to Harry, sure, but they were still vile. And Malfoy always hated Harry so much.
This made no sense. What if Malfoy had done something to Harry? Spelled him, drugged him, who knew? What if Harry wasn't here willingly? And Hermione had almost run off and abandoned him to Malfoy's mercy.
"Stop it!" Harry said, and Hermione's eyes flew open, her hand clutching her wand. She was ready to blow up Malfoy with a Reductor Curse. But she froze up again, shocked anew.
They had… finished up, apparently. Harry was lying down on his side, his back to the entrance where Hermione stood still. And Malfoy had lain down beside him, facing him, head propped up on his elbow, his other hand on… in… Hermione hastily looked away from Harry's bare arse, and Malfoy's fingers that were inside of Harry.
"What, this?" Malfoy was smiling. He did something that made Harry gasp.
"No." Harry laughed. He sounded breathless. "Stop looking so smug. It's unbearable. I'm embarrassed for you."
"Are you now?" Malfoy made Harry gasp again, and Hermione fixed her gaze on Malfoy's face and looked nowhere else.
"You didn't discover another twelve uses of dragon blood here." Harry was still laughing.
"But I've discovered I can make you come with my dick alone," Malfoy drawled. "Equally worthy of a Chocolate Card blurb, I think."
Harry snorted. "Idiot."
He didn't sound like he was under a spell, Hermione was forced to acknowledge. In fact, all this time, this past few weeks, she hadn't noticed any signs he might be under some kind of influence.
But how did this happen? At one point, Hermione had her suspicions about Harry being interested in men as well as women. So did Ginny. She and Hermione had talked about it once, ages ago, when they got a little tipsy. But then Ginny and Harry got together, and Hermione's suspicions didn't seem to matter anymore. She was too concerned for him lately to even consider the matter again.
But it still made no sense. Why Malfoy?
Some secret need to punish himself? Hate turned to passion?
Well, with Harry's upbringing, it was no wonder he had no idea how—
"Make a wish," Malfoy said, distracting Hermione.
"A wish?"
"Yeah, a wish. I'm in a wish-granting mood. I'm feeling mighty."
Harry laughed. He was laughing so much. "All right," he said. "Here's a wish. Stay with me for the Christmas holidays."
Malfoy looked surprised. "I meant, a sexual wish. You know, like, 'I want you to choke on my cock, Malfoy.'"
Oh, for heaven's sake.
At least Harry was amused. "All right, then. I want you to choke on my cock during the Christmas holidays." He reached up to touch Malfoy's hair, winding the blond strands around his finger. There was so much tenderness in that gesture. "Come on. You'll be miserable at that place. You know it."
"You're staying at the castle?"
"I am if you are."
"And your friends?"
"They'll be with their families."
Malfoy's face was steadily losing that annoying, smug expression of his. "Even I know you count as one of the Weasleys."
"I— know." Harry sighed. "And I imagine they'll be upset. But it's just— Lately, big, loud crowds of people are overwhelming. I feel like they're forcing me to be alert. Then I get antsy and— And I'd rather— The castle is so quiet during the holidays. I was looking forward to that. But… I don't want to be alone, either."
Harry had never mentioned that. Not to Hermione, or Ron, as far as she knew. It wasn't shocking. It made sense. Hermione loved those quiet moments she got to spend with Ron and no one else around. And she got those moments daily.
"I don't know, Potter." Malfoy was drawling again. "It's such a sacrifice. I'll miss out on Father's daily rants about how not even the Parkinsons want to return his Floo-calls."
Harry huffed.
Hermione couldn't see Harry's face, but she saw Malfoy's. His expression turned soft as he smiled. "Of course I'll stay. I know I said I made plans to go back home, but I didn't know this was an option — both of us staying here."
What an odd look on Malfoy that was. He looked like he was under some kind of influence.
Malfoy leaned in, and Harry shifted to lie on his back, staring up at him. Hermione could finally see Harry's face. And it was quite a sight. He looked so relaxed, so happy, so mesmerised. It would be so easy to conclude he had been dosed up with a Love Potion, but if that were true, then they had both drunk it.
Their kiss was slow and gentle. Harry's fingers were still playing with Malfoy's hair, and Malfoy's hand was still… down there. And then Malfoy did something again with that hand, and Harry bucked, his moan muffled by Malfoy's mouth. As Harry lifted up his leg and bent it at the knee, and then started rocking his hips, so fluidly, Hermione closed her eyes and took two hurried steps back.
She ended up staring at the wall, a smooth, innocent wall hiding…
Good Lord. Was the castle messing with her or she had truly just seen Malfoy and Harry sharing intimate, loving moments?
How did this happen? Was Hermione supposed to do something now? Confront Harry? Question him? Make sure his mind was sound?
Well, no, it wasn't. Obviously. This was madness. Falling for Draco Malfoy, of all people. And Malfoy's mind was gone too. To move from that obsessive hatred to this. She hadn't spared him much thought, to be honest. Looking back now, he'd been a quiet presence. A pale wight haunting the Hogwarts corridors, unobtrusive, never the centre of attention. That was certainly odd for him. It was a fair description of Harry too, except he couldn't escape the attention.
And here they were now, finding comfort in each other.
Madness. But madness in a mad world. What right did Hermione have to tell them they shouldn't do this? To warn Harry this could be a disaster, give him doubts and fears in place of that happiness and calm she had just witnessed? The way Malfoy was gazing at him. Not unlike the way Ron looked at her in the light of afterglow. That was pure adoration.
How utterly bizarre.
Hermione sighed. She should have never witnessed this. And she could never, ever tell anyone. Not Harry, not Ron.
Although…
Harry would have to tell them about this. If he meant to stay at the castle during the holidays, he simply had to. Oh, what an insane chance to act all-knowing and claim she had suspected it all along. Harry would be mortified; he would hesitate speaking Malfoy's name. And then she could guess, before he even got the chance to say anything. Yes, yes, she could say she saw it coming. "Oh, you two were always so obsessed with each other." That was what she would say.
Harry would be so shocked. And Ron would be endlessly impressed by her astuteness.
She grinned to herself as she walked away. Well, her mission was successful. Harry wasn't hiding and suffering alone. He was suffering Malfoy, apparently by choice. Objectively, she could have witnessed something much worse, like Harry crying in a dark corner. He was happy. At least for now. That was good. That was—
She reached the top of the stairs and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
God. She took a deep breath. She couldn't unsee it. The way they moved together. Two naked and admittedly beautiful male bodies, so in sync. How utterly blissed out Harry looked when—
Yes, well. Hermione shifted her weight. She couldn't tell anyone about this, no, but… she could hurry back to the Gryffindor Tower. And find Ron.
She was so very— Oof, she definitely needed Ron.
Blushing, she picked up her pace.