Club Gemini (Drarry)

Fashion Sense

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably.

A large frown lay atop Hermione's brows. It had been there all morning: throughout lectures, tests, and over bits of food and conversation. Harry and Ron had been trying to duck her the past few hours, unable to stand her intense stare, but she'd made a point to stick on their heels.

When Hermione had heard the rumors about Club Gemini, she had scoffed and rolled her eyes. . . But when she'd found Harry and Ron exchanging a hangover potion and light pink love bites peeking beneath Ron's scarf, she'd acted like a cat with it's tail torn off. Grumpy and unsteady.

Ron glanced over at Harry from behind his book, his mouth set stiffly downward in distaste at the situation. Harry shook his head, looking downward. They deserved this for keeping her out of the loop.

Hermione dropped down her book with a thud and leaned forward from across the boys. Her wand briskly tapped the top of their books. "Study properly," were her first words in hours.

Ron sighed and focused his attention back on Vergor's Heroic Past. Harry's eyes ran along the lines of the page, the air of the library's secluded corner, suffocating and dank. But he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Hermione," Harry started as he softly set down his book, "I'm sorry about you finding out like you did, about. . .you know. . ."

She stiffly nodded and was about to continue reading when Ron cleared his throat.

"'mione. . ." Ron pleaded, glancing around the area, "you can't really blame us. The club is a great place to unwind after a hard days' studying."

Her frown deepened. "Alcohol interferes with studying."

"Yeah, but what's life hidden behind a bunch of dusty, old books anyway?" Ron said.

"The life of a respectable witch or wizard, with a steady career and a steady mind."

"How can your mind be steady, when it's wound so tight all the time?" Ron argued.

"A tightly wound mind is a-"

"- stop it," Harry exhaled as his headache spiked. Suddenly he missed the silence. "Ron doesn't really mean to argue, we're really sorry. We should have told you-"

"-shouldn't have gone," Hermione corrects.

"This woman!" Ron rolls his eyes. "You always have to be right."

"I am right! Spirits are. . .despicable!"

"Harry doesn't seem to think so," Ron defends. "He's always reaching for them at-"

Conversation flitters in through the cases. A small group of second years walk past, staring at the trio with wide, curious eyes. Their eyes seemed to devour Harry, sitting before them in all his rumpled, hangover glory. Their gazes prickle his skin.

When they'd finally gone a good distance away, Ron turned toward Hermione, cheeks pink with embarrassment at their conversation being heard. "Yeah, we shouldn't have gone. Well, I'm the one who got Harry hooked in the first place. But once you're there, I'm telling you, there's no going back."

She crossed her arms. "I don't get the appeal. It's probably a smelly old place with extremely loud music and raging, drunk, hormonal teenagers."

"Exactly!"

"You're being ridiculous, Ronald. How exactly did you rope poor Harry into this? He needs to focus on his studies if he wants to be a proper auror."

"I didn't rope him, it was some venomous Slytherin girl." Ron smirked and yanked down Harry's high collar, exposing a trail of kiss marks along his collarbone.

Harry's face flushed a deep red. "Bugger off!" A series of hot images flashed through his mind, and the ghostly touch of the boy from the night before singed his skin.

A devious grin crept onto Ron's face, reveling at the chance to divert Hermione's disapproval. "Very considerate of her to leave those hickies somewhere you could hide them. Classy, maybe? No. . .no Slytherin would do that without a reason. Sneaky. You hooked up with a sneaky one, didn't you? Darn Slytherins. . ."

"Enough," Hermione planted her face in her hands and sighed deeply. "I'm done. You two could prance around in your knockers to repetitive, distasteful music, I don't care. But you cannot stay more than a few hours, and your studies cannot suffer. It's bad enough that half the school population has suddenly dropped 50 IQ points, I feel like I'm surrounded by idiots."

Ron grinned fondly, "'mione, next to you, everyone's an idiot."

She forcefully thrust Ron's book in front of him, but Harry didn't miss the hesitant smile that played on her lips.

"Just get back to work, Ronald."

"Yes ma'am."

Harry's friends peacefully went back to their respective readings, but he was left puzzled. . .and then. . .flustered again. . . He pulled up his collar, imagining the soft smatter of kisses that stung lightly on his lower neck and the tips of his shoulders. He remembered the boy's fingers skillfully unbuttoning the top of his shirt, and running his nails along his bare skin. The feel of rough lips leaving sweet marks, and soft hair clenched in his grip.

His throat went dry. "I'm going to the bathroom."

The hallway was emptier than expected during the free period, and he was glad for it. He could still feel the heat on his face, it burned like a furnace. He pressed his cool hands against his cheeks.

It wasn't like it was first good make out, he'd been with plenty others: girls, boys, older, younger. He couldn't understand, and it was not like he could remember every detail. He was half unresponsive because of the alcohol. Well, not unresponsive. . . A flood of forgotten memories came to mind, of his needy hard on, pressed to the other boy's thigh as they danced in the dark. And a deft hand, massaging through his pants, and. . .

"Ugh!" Harry groaned out of frustration, thanking God that he was wearing his robes loosely.

Harry caught a familiar snicker. "Potter, what are you doing, stalking the halls? You look like an absolute wreck."

Draco leaned against the wall of the hallway, surrounded by his usual little posse. He looked positively smug and pristine, aside the smear of blue beneath his eyes. He looked the boy up and down, smirking. "What? Got a change in fashion sense?" His group of Slytherins laughed under their breaths.

It took a few moments for him to realize the blonde was speaking about his state of dress. "Yeah, I'm thinking about dropping out and setting up shop. Something like Harry's Styles." The sarcasm was fresh on his tone.

"More like Pussy Potter's," Goyel sneered.

"Hey now, let's be honest. Poor sod looks no different any other day," Draco said. "I can fix that."

He stepped forward, moving to yank down his robes. Draco's hands accidently ran across Harry's stiff erection and they locked eyes. Absolute shock slackened the blonde's face, and his grey eyes widened in horror.

"Potter, you-"

"Shut it!"

Harry broke away at a brisk walk, one hand pulling his robes desperately away from the boy, and the other hand covering his face. He fled, mortified. Draco Malfoy had just touched my crotch. I'm ruined. This time tomorrow, traveling between Slytherin tongue, the whole school would know about Harry Potter's shameful display.

A few hallways down, he ran into the bathroom, cast a spell to lock the door, and splashed ice cold water on his face. He splashed and splashed, and still could not get rid of his problem, a problem that continued to grow in his pants.

+++

Note: In this story Ron and Hermione don't have a relationship yet