Bottom Draco One Shots !Drarry!

Don't Think Twice

The Gryffindor Common Room falls silent for a split second when Harry walks in, then erupts in a fresh round of whispers. Just like it has every bloody day for this entire bloody week. Just like the Great Hall has, and the corridors between classrooms, and... Damn Anthony Goldstein. Harry's going to hex his bits off the next time he sees him.

Harry flops down onto a sofa and tries to ignore it. Rise above it all, as Hermione said. If he doesn't respond, the gossip will eventually run its course. A nearby group of third year girls erupt in twitters of laughter, and Harry glowers at them. They all look away, but five seconds later they're back to giggling. Harry slides his fingers under his glasses to rub at his eyes. What a nightmare.

"Hey, mate," Ron says as he drops onto the chair sitting kitty-corner to Harry's sofa. "Are... you alright?"

Harry yanks his hands away from his face. "No, Ron, I am not alright. And I'm going to get a lot worse before too long."

"Worse?" Ron asks hesitantly, as if he doesn't really want the answer but feels that as Harry's best mate he's supposed to ask anyhow.

"Yes, worse. Because they're sure to throw me in Azkaban after I bloody well murder Goldstein."

Ron sighs. "I know it's bad, but I'd have thought you'd be used to people talking about you by now."

"All that rubbish with Voldemort," The third year girls flinch at the use of the Dark Lord's name, and Harry fixes them with another glare. "Voldemort," he repeats louder, "was bad, but this is so much worse. This is personal, and it's just humiliating." Harry buries his face in his hands and mumbles a muffled "Gonna murder Goldstein," into his palms.

Ron's hand claps down on his shoulder, large and warm and reassuring. "Look, I know you didn't want to be outed just yet," he says.

"Too right," Harry mutters.

"And probably not in this much detail. I mean, I for one could have lived quite happily without knowing how much you like to..." Ron trails off as Harry lifts his head and scowls at him. "Right. Yes. That's beside the point. My point is that this is shit, but it'll all blow over soon enough. You just need to..."

"I swear to god, Ron, if you tell me to rise above it I'm going to go to Azkaban for two counts of murder," Harry grumbles.

"I was going to suggest getting away from it, actually," Ron says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Ron says, and leans close to continue in a much lower voice. "If you go down to the Great Hall for dinner, it's just going to be more of the same, people staring and whispering, and then you'll get so wound-up and anxious that you'll hardly be able to eat a bite."

Harry thinks back to breakfast that morning. He'd barely been able to choke down a slice of toast while the gossip flew around him. Ron and Hermione were wonderful, sitting on either side of him and sending dark looks to any of the Gryffindors who dared say anything about him. But they couldn't stop the rest of the Hall from talking.

Stupid bloody Goldstein. It was just meant to be a bit of fun. They'd been meeting up for a few weeks in empty classrooms and deserted corridors, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt like a normal student, having normal teenage trysts with another student. But then Goldstein had wanted to make their relationship public. Harry had resisted, because they'd only been together for a few weeks and he wanted to make sure that this was something stable and long-term before going through the hassle that coming out would cause. And besides, a few quickies in dusty old classrooms did not a relationship make.