It didn't take Harry long to conclude that all the progress that he and Draco had made had been undone quicker than Viktor Krum could find a snitch. In the hours following their altercation in the Hogs Head, Draco had called him everything from a loser to a fuck-faced Gryffindor cunt, as well as making several comments about his manners, morals and the obvious link between his awful hypocritical personality and his lack of parents.
In retaliation, Harry had called him everything from a coward to a spoilt Slytherin son-of-a-whore, including several disparaging comments about his loyalty and his pathetic need to please his Father.
The argument was well out of hand by the time they returned to Hogwarts and didn't let up all through dinner. Harry went to the Great Hall, hoping Malfoy would be there so he could punch him, but he was absent from his group of Slytherins who were sat at the far end of their table. When they all left, Harry had noticed that Parkinson had a plate of food in her hand, presumably taking it back to the Slytherin common room for Draco. Harry had instantly laid into him, calling him a coward who wouldn't even dare go down to dinner.
By the time he went to bed, he'd annoyed Ginny by barely paying attention to her at dinner, confused Ron who couldn't keep up with where Harry's attention was focused, and thoroughly irritated Hermione who still insisted he'd over-reacted to whatever he and Malfoy had bickered about.
He hadn't been able to admit to anyone why they'd fallen out, anyway. He was never as comfortable as the other guys were when talking about sex and stuff, even when they were just joking around in the dorm room. Some of it was down to the fact Ron's sister was his girlfriend, and the rest…well, he just didn't get it. Joking about breasts and making lewd comments just wasn't something he'd over gotten the hang of.
And to even imagine telling Hermione about his minor indiscretion…The thought made him want to pitch himself off of the top of Gryffindor Tower. It was almost as bad knowing that Malfoy potentially knew about what he'd done. He was dreading the next day, wondering if Malfoy would decide to exact revenge by announcing that he knew all about Harry's masturbatory habits, retelling the story in excruciating detail to anyone that would listen. Harry had nearly had a seizure that one time Ginny had casually asked him how often he did it – what was the right answer to that fucking question when your girlfriend asked, anyway? – and he suspected he would actually have a full blown fit if Malfoy asked him any similar questions.
Under everything else he was feeling was a strong undercurrent of guilt. He hadn't meant to snap at Malfoy, he really hadn't; the words had just slipped through before he could think rationally. He'd just been so embarrassed, and on another level, ashamed. The topic of sex and all related activities was a truly uncomfortable one for Harry; he was well aware of his inexperience and how he just didn't seem to appreciate it on the same level as the other guys. He didn't want anyone, let alone Malfoy, delving into that part of his life, and finding out about his pitiful lack of experience and his stupid body that didn't seem overly bothered about gaining said experience. He didn't know which would be the lesser of the two evils; having no experience and being mocked for it, or forcing himself to gain experience even if he wasn't entirely comfortable with it.
What was wrong with him? He was eighteen, he was healthy, he loved sexual activity in which he were the sole participant, so why couldn't he bloody man up and involve anyone else? Then he wouldn't have lashed out and acted like a fifteen year old in the face of Malfoy's possibly harmless questions.
He couldn't help but fixate on the expression on Malfoy's face when he'd met Harry's eyes in the pub earlier. The subtle hint of interest, the way the grey eyes lingered on him…he couldn't work it out, and it unnerved and fascinated him in turn.
His head hurt. He was starting to suspect that he could sense Malfoy's emotions through the link, because every so often he caught pulses of anger or annoyance that didn't quite coincide with what he was thinking. The Mindworks book had said such a thing was possible, but that it normally only happened with participants who were emotionally close. Harry wouldn't class renewed mutual hatred as being emotionally close, but he'd also thought that he and Malfoy would manage to get on until Christmas. Showed how much he really knew about things.
