Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: Coming Out
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3500
Status: COMPLETE! Halloween Quickie Series, part 5 of 5.
Summary: Harry and Draco come out, but Minerva has bigger concerns.
Note: Written for awdt's Halloween Quickies, prompt #5 was: Trick or treat.
I am SO sorry. I just had no time and I'm extra nervous when writing endings. Please forgive me. Also, I apologize for the final scene here. It might be proof that I finally lost my mind.


#1: Ghostly Fun
#2: Filch's Fun
#3: Caught
#4: Backfired
#5:

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Coming Out


It was grainy. There was no doubt about it. Minerva took another spoonful, just to be sure, but the result was the same. It was grainy and therefore not very good. And the worst part of it was that this wasn't the first time it had happened. Hogwarts food just wasn't what it used to be. House-elfs just weren't trying as hard. Sure, logically it could be that the house-elfs had finally reconsidered freedom and this was their little mutiny. Or perhaps they didn't want freedom yet, but they just felt like slacking. Which was good. Minerva fully supported them. Well, not in slacking; in their wish for freedom. That made sense; everyone was asking for their rights these days, and that was fine. Minerva would have agreed to free the elfs and pay them for their work. However, this was unacceptable. If they wanted something they should have said so. Why produce bad food?

It wasn't just the house-elfs though; it was everything. The ghosts were intrusive, Peeves was intolerable — more than usual, if possible — the gargoyles were grumpy and the suits of armour rattled too much. On top of that Argus Filch was handing out vicious punishments left, right and centre. It was like a minor, barely perceptible rebellion. It shouldn't have bothered Minerva but it did. These things simply didn't happen when Albus was alive. It was as though Hogwarts didn't trust her; didn't respect her enough. Perhaps it was still confused after so much damage and suffering, but Minerva couldn't help blaming herself. And she couldn't help thinking that in the end, others would blame her too. They'd say that during her time at Hogwarts, everything went south.

This was outrageous.

"Minerva!"

It was Halloween, and she should be drinking wine and laugh at Hagrid's terrible jokes, not worry about grainy puddings.

"Minerva! For Merlin's sake. We have a situation! It's an emergency," Pomona was whispering furiously beside her.

"Had the skeletons fallen apart again?" Minerva sighed. "I don't think I can fix them." Well, she could, but they were a nuisance at any rate, so perhaps this was for the best.

Pomona grumbled, "No. Well, yes. But that happened half an hour ago. Poor dears," she sniffed.

Minerva looked sideways at the pile of bones lying on the ground next to the staff table. "They shouldn't have tried to do the can can." Minerva shook her head sadly.

"Oh never mind them." Pomona waved her hand dismissively. "They were imported. What did you expect?"

Minerva frowned. Pomona probably didn't even realise she was criticizing. Minerva had hired them, knowing they were imported and therefore cheaper. Albus' skeletons were never imported and they had never fallen apart.

Minerva looked at her pudding again. Perhaps she should go straight for the wine.

"If you'd stop trying to murder your pudding with your glares for one second, you'd notice we're on the verge of a catastrophe!"

Annoyed, Minerva focused on her surroundings with difficulty, immediately feeling unnerved with what she had heard. Or more precisely with what she didn’t hear. The Hall was absolutely silent.

Did the time for the proper mutiny finally come? Had everyone notice that the pudding was grainy?

"Look!" Pomona whispered, reaching out to tug on Minerva's sleeve. "Harry Potter just walked in with Draco Malfoy. And they are holding hands!"

Narrowing her eyes, Minerva looked up and towards the entrance. Sure enough, Potter and Malfoy stood near the Slytherin table, bickering and wrestling. Malfoy tried to sit down, but Potter insistently yanked on his hand, presumably in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Minerva rolled her eyes at the shocked looking students that stared at the pair with unreserved attention. She knew about the Potter and Malfoy affair, of course. Unfortunately, the portraits in the Headmaster ... her office were a bunch of gossipers, and they had tried on several horrifying occasions to describe what they had seen around the castle. Why they thought she wanted to know what the students were up to in their free time, she couldn't understand. No one had ever told her who was writing those nasty messages about Potter, but they were full of information where Potter's love life was concerned.

Potter won the wrestling match and successfully dragged a sour looking Draco Malfoy towards the much sourer looking Gryffindors.

"What shall we do if they start fighting?" Pomona bemoaned.

"I thought we should try one of the classic ways of dealing with students. We'll say, 'Settle down,'" Minerva said, trying and failing not to sound sarcastic.

Pomona, however, missed the sarcasm. "Settle down. Settle down," she chanted under her breath as though memorising. "Oh that will never work!" she concluded at last.

"But Malfoy isn't a member of the Slug Club!" Horace Slughorn whispered to Minerva's right. "What an oversight. Who could have foreseen this?" he wept, looking very distressed.

"I've foreseen it years ago!" Sybill cried suddenly, surprising Minerva as she had believed that Sybill was unconscious. Either way, the word foreseen had clearly woken her up. "They always had such a ..." Sybill waved her hands around, drunkenly searching for words. "Thing! Their auras were so ..." she squinted at them.

"Pink?" Rolanda Hooch suggested.

"Shiny!" Sybill declared, still waving around madly. "Look, they are blending into each other!" she said enthusiastically.

"It couldn’t be that you're seeing double, could it?" Minerva commented dryly. Some of the professors laughed quietly, but Sybill reflected on the question seriously. She failed to inform them of her conclusions, however, but instead she just continued to stare at the Gryffindor table with supreme interest.

Meanwhile, a young, blond girl which Minerva recognized as Vicky Frobisher strode into the Hall and moved towards the Gryffindor table, shooting daggers with her glare, but avoiding to look at Potter and Malfoy directly. Her expression turned even uglier when Granger stood up and loudly proclaimed, "Harry, come here. We saved you a seat!"

Minerva watched, amused, as Granger bodily shoved Weasley to the left and Finnigan to the right, forming enough space between them for Potter and Malfoy to sit down. Potter was looking at her nervously while Malfoy stared at the empty space on the bench worriedly. He seemed to have trouble deciding whether it would be better to sit down next to Finnigan, who stared at him with narrowed eyes, or Weasley, who didn't even look at him, but instead was diligently eating his pudding. At least someone likes it, Minerva thought happily.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, though his voice carried through the quiet Hall. He smiled a little, looking relieved, and then together with Granger he managed to squeeze a disgruntled Malfoy on the bench between Weasley and himself.

Whispers broke out and soon the familiar noise of chattering students filled the Great Hall. Students were turning around, staring and gasping, while others giggled and pointed.

"Is this it?" Pomona said in wonder.

"I doubt it." Horace looked nervously at his House table. The Slytherins looked as displeased as Gryffindors.

"Potter knows how to stir up trouble. Poor boy," Filius Flitwick squeaked.

"Why's this trouble?" Hagrid's voice boomed. "'arry deserves to be 'appy," he sniffed, read-eyed and red-cheeked, and clearly drunk. "So what if he wants a Slytherin, eh? 'm sure 'arry knows what he's doin'." Hagrid nodded, teary eyed. "Besides," he squinted at Malfoy and smiled, "she seems like a nice girl."

The majority of professors snorted into their drinks, but Sybill, who was sitting next to Hagrid, leaning drunkenly against his arm, patted his large hand and said in a quivering, emotional voice, "She does, doesn't she?" She sniffed. "Look at their auras! They're positively shimmering."

"Yeah ..." Hagrid agreed and shook his head. "'s making me queasy." He raised his glass and said loudly. "To 'arry's 'appines!"

Several students looked at him, Potter among them, and he grinned widely and raised his goblet, looking at Hagrid gratefully, at the same poking Malfoy in the ribs. Malfoy turned for a second and made a grimace in Hagrid's direction, which was probably meant to be a greeting.

However, both Sybill and Hagrid frowned and were left staring at Malfoy's back, possibly realising only then who was sitting beside Potter.

Minerva, who had brought a glass of wine to her lips, quickly put it down again, worried that there was something wrong with the wine as well.

"Here we go!" Pomona exclaimed.

Minerva sighed again as Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson stood up and strode purposely towards the Gryffindor table.

"Should I go? Should I do something?" Horace cried, clearly panicking. "Can I hex them?"

"Never mind." Minerva raised her hand and grabbed her walking stick, getting up with some difficulty. "I’ll go."

"But they haven't done anything yet," Aurora Sinistra said primly.

"By the time I get there they will," Minerva said sadly, slowly limping towards the Gryffindor table, glaring at the pathetic pile of bones and useless giant pumpkins along the way.

Zabini and Parkinson had already reached Malfoy and Potter and were whispering something furiously at the pair of them.

"That's what I said!" Vicky Frobisher cried suddenly, standing up and glaring a Potter and Malfoy. "Completely barmy, both of them!"

Parkinson whispered something into Malfoy's ear, prompting Malfoy to glare as Potter blushed, but before either one of them could react, Weasley shot up and exclaimed, "You watch what you’re saying about Harry!"

Potter looked up at Weasley, clearly amazed by his defence, while Malfoy crossed his hands on his chest, looking put out by it. Zabini narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something; however, his gaze flickered in Minerva's direction and his expression transformed instantly.

"Don't be daft, Weasley," he said too loudly with a blinding smile. "We just came here to wish Potter and Draco all the best."

"What?" Pansy cried and then gasped when Blaise elbowed her. "I mean, of course!" she accepted. "Aren't they cute!" she cooed.

"What?" Finnigan spluttered next to them. "No, they're not cute. Harry, what are you thinking? I didn't even know you were into blokes." Finnigan looked really sad. "You should have said." He pouted.

Malfoy directed a nasty glare in Finnigan's direction and then sneaked an arm around Harry's waist, pulling him closer to himself and farther from Finnigan, much to Potter's obvious amusement.

"Is there a problem here?" Minerva asked, finally reaching her destination.

"No, Professor. Not at all," Zabini said quickly.

Weasley shook his head before Granger pulled his arm, making him sit down.

"Yes! Yes, there is!" Frobisher cried, looking around at her classmates, searching for support, but since Minerva was there no one dared to speak. "Professor, Harry was clearly cursed. Or perhaps there's something wrong with him due to all that had happened with ... well, you know who. It's not at all surprising. I'm sure it's curable, but perhaps his mind suffered too much and it caused this insanity. And it made him fraternise with the likes of him!" She pointed at Malfoy, not pausing in her breathless rant, not even when Minerva tried to interrupt her. "Harry needs to be taken to St Mungo's, obviously, and I'm sure they'll be able to help him there and cure him of this ... thing. He's clearly disturbed and ... arrgggghhhhh!" Frobisher cried, grabbing her face as something large and black dripped from her left nostril and then transformed into a fearsome-looking bat. Other black bogeys followed in quick succession, and soon Vicky Frobisher's face was attacked by many vicious bats as she screamed, trying in vain to chase them off.

"Miss Weasley!" Minerva cried, indignant. "I'm standing two feet away from you!"

Ginny Weasley, who was sitting next to Frobisher and chatting animatedly with Demelza Robins, looked around, her face the picture of perfect innocence. "Sorry, Professor?" she asked wide-eyed. "Oh dear!" she cried, spotting the screaming Frobisher.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Minerva informed her, too used to dealing with the Weasley twins to fall for this innocent face. Zabini snickered on Minerva's right. "Take Miss Frobisher to the Hospital Wing, Zabini," Minerva instructed, prompting Zabini to splutter and whine, "Why me?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow and after a glare in Ginny's direction Zabini obeyed, escorting the screaming girl out of the Hall. Left without support, Pansy Parkinson looked lost for a moment, but then, scowling, she forced herself between Thomas and Longbottom, nearly sitting on perplexed Longbottom's lap.

She gave them all a brilliant smile and Minerva rolled her eyes inwardly, knowing that she couldn't do anything about this. Parkinson was free to sit where she wished.

"Then, if everything is in order ..." she said tentatively.

Potter looked at her with a small smile on his face. "Everything's excellent, Professor," he said, beaming, and Minerva couldn't help smiling at him. Silly boy, unaware of his own charm.

"Well, tuck in." She nodded at them and walked away. She limped towards the staff table, passing a puzzled looking Argus Filch who was mumbling to himself. "Kinky boy, that Malfoy," he murmured. "He must have liked it. How disappointing ..."

Quite disturbed by Argus' words, Minerva determinedly suppressed them and sat back at her spot at the high table,

After a while, Pomona smiled at her somewhat nervously. "Crisis is averted for now," she said as several Gryffindors rose in protest and went to sit at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. "But I'm telling you, Minerva. This will lead to dissent."

Minerva smiled, disagreeing with that assessment; determined to be optimistic. She smiled even wider when Blaise Zabini returned with bat-free Frobisher and together they sat down at the Slytherin table, talking animatedly. In turn, Pansy Parkinson ended up sitting on Longbottom's lap while pale–looking Ron Weasley shoved pudding in Malfoy's direction.

"I think," Minerva said proudly, "that we're witnessing tentative first steps towards House unity." She shoved the pudding away, and leaned back, watching the students, and murmuring to herself, "I might not be such a bad Headmistress after all."

"Wait. Is that Malfoy?" Hagrid cried, incredulous and suddenly sober-looking.

Deflating, Minerva grabbed her wineglass. Perhaps some wine would help her keep her newly found optimism.


***


"Someone could see us!" Malfoy whined, looking around the Hall through the Jack-o-lantern's left eye that currently served as a window. He was kneeling down and staring out, while Potter kneeled behind him, pressing himself to Draco's back and acting generally unhelpful.

"Everyone's asleep," Potter soothed.

"Well, what if some first year passes by, um, trick-or-treating. Or something," Draco complained irrationally. "Anyone could come and see us." He looked at the little balls of light that glimmered above their heads, illuminating the inside, so if anyone did pass by, they would definitely see them.

"That never bothered you before," Potter whispered next to Draco's ear, clearly trying to distract him with his closeness. Which, unfortunately, threatened to work very well.

"We weren’t in a giant pumpkin before!" Draco reasoned, sniffing. "I don't like the smell of this place."

"It's a pumpkin. It smells like a pumpkin." Potter sounded very unconcerned, dedicating his full attention to the skin of Draco's neck, probably trying to leave a bruise there with his teeth and mouth. Uncultivated brute.

"Are you sure Weasley and Granger weren’t in this pumpkin?"

"Mmmm. Positive." Potter slowly nibbled on Draco's neck, his fingers sneaking beneath Draco's shirt to caress the soft skin of his stomach.

"Well good," Draco purred contently, though he planned to sound irritated. "I don't want to have sex in Ron Weasley's giant pumpkin." Draco frowned. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd say."

"It's Hagrid's giant pumpkin, technically," Potter murmured, his thumbs circling against Draco's skin before they teasingly crept beneath the waistband of Draco's trousers. Draco shifted around restlessly, glad that he had, because the movement caused him to brush his backside against Potter's hardness.

Potter's breath hitched and his fingers deftly unzipped Draco's trousers, and then they reached inside to lightly squeeze Draco's cock through his underwear. Draco's hips twitched and he pushed into Potter's caress, rocking between Potter's hand that stroked him expertly, and his cock that felt wonderful and full of promise, nestled perfectly between Draco's arse cheeks.

"He doesn't like me. None of your friends like me," Draco sighed, letting his head fall backwards and offering his pale neck to Potter.

Potter had already bruised his skin anyway, so he might as well continue.

"I like you," Potter mumbled as he sucked on Draco's neck, never stopping the movements of his hand. "And they'll come around. They were polite today."

"That was a ruse. Obviously. They'll do something horrible to me eventually. Not to mention Pansy and Blaise clearly went insane. They might even help them."

Potter paused his movements for a second, and he raised his head to look down at Draco. "They both seemed rather happy by the end of the feast. Pansy seems to have a thing for Neville." Potter grinned widely.

Trying not to mirror Potter's happy grin, though that was hard as Potter's smiles were infectious lately, Draco said in a longsuffering voice, "Like I said, they clearly went insane."

Potter lowered his mouth closer to Draco's. "Hanging around with Gryffindors like that ... Yeah, I reckon they're mental." Potter's green eyes widened in pretended horror. "Maybe it's contagious. Maybe you've infected them."

"Quite possible," Malfoy managed to say before Potter kissed him. It was an awkward, sloppy kiss because of their position, but it still made Draco's toes tingle. "And there's no cure. Poor Pansy," he said breathlessly after they'd separated.

"Good." Potter nodded seriously and then yanked on Draco's trousers impatiently. Draco rose up a bit so they could push them lower, together with his underwear. He tried to sit back down on Potter's lap, but Potter's warm hands cupped his buttocks and stopped him.

"Stay like this," Potter instructed, kneading Draco's arse, which felt so good, Draco didn't even consider complaining about Potter's bossiness.

However, Draco frowned worriedly, if he was supposed to stay in this position, then he'd need leverage. He reached up and pushed his hands through the pumpkin's eyes, grabbing the edges, displeased with the squishy, slick feel of the pumpkin's rim. He laughed, despite himself.

"What's so funny?" Potter asked, still massaging Draco's buttocks with one hand while he fumbled around with the other, probably trying to fish out a tube of lube from his pocket.

"We're in a pumpkin, Potter. Do you really need to ask why I'm laughing? Though I suppose, it would make more sense if I was lamenting our unfortunate location. Someone will find us here. I just know it. And then ... Oh!" Draco gasped as Potter's finger touched his opening, then circled a little before it pushed inside. "You're shamelessly distracting me," Draco accused, pushing back on Potter's intrusive finger.

"You worry too much," Potter said softly, his hand working diligently, as he lowered his mouth to Draco's left shoulder blade, biting down on it rather hard.

"You worry too little," Draco hissed and then moaned as Potter's fingers touched the perfect spot inside him.

"That's a recent development," Potter responded pensively, his breath hot on Draco's neck as he pulled his fingers out of Draco's hole. "I suspect it's your fault."

"Sap," Draco grumbled, with too much fondness in his voice. "You're such a tender, sensitive person, Potter," Draco goaded, knowing what followed.

"I'll show you sensitive," Potter growled as Draco smirked.

Potter's hand grabbed Draco's arse, spreading his cheeks apart before Draco felt the blunt, warm head of Potter's cock pushing inside of him. Draco braced himself, concentrating, as Potter slammed inside with one smooth thrust. Gasping and clutching the rim of pumpkin's eyes too hard, Draco clenched his inner muscles around the hardness inside him.

Potter murmured something approvingly, then gripped Draco's hips and began to move, not caring that the pumpkin was ever-so-slightly shaking.

"Um. Potter," Draco panted. "This is ridiculous," he moaned, aware that Potter probably didn't take him seriously. But Draco was actually worried. Potter's fast, hard thrusts, though spectacular, pushed him closer to the pumpkin's wall, which was very uncomfortable.

But then Potter paused a little, circled his hips and slammed back inside Draco even harder, this time dragging his cock against Draco's prostate with every thrust. Draco's eyes rolled back and he forgot where he was, only able to concentrate on the wonderful feelings Potter's thorough pounding was producing. Draco barely noticed when his arms and legs lost their purchase and his hands were pushed through the pumpkin's eyes and his stomach was pressed to the pumpkin's squishy wall.

Lost in their own bliss, neither of them noticed two madly giggling ghosts, which floated in front of the large shaking pumpkin, pointing and laughing at the hands that waved through the pumpkin's eyes and a glistening head of a cock that continuously peeked from the pumpkin's mouth. Nor did they notice when a dazed, tired looking McGonagall passed by and squinted inside that Hall from the entrance. The pumpkin rattled, grinning widely, its insides flaring with light, as a loud cry came from within and white liquid shot from its gapping mouth.

McGonagall glared at her wineglass, then threw it away, clutching her head. "I knew there was something wrong with the wine!" she bemoaned, limping away as Moaning Myrtle and the Gray Lady shrieked with laughter behind her.

Inside the giant pumpkin, Draco Malfoy sniggered.

"What?" Potter asked lazily.

"I was just thinking how special I am," Draco laughed. "You know how people come out of the closet? Well, apparently, I just came out of the pumpkin."

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Fin

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