Malcolm Treeloft was perhaps one of the last to board the Hogwarts Express. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to let the other Hogwarts students board ahead of him so that he could be alone. Even the other Slytherins knew better than to bother him. As a sixth year, Malcolm was a formidable wizard and always was. Not only was his own house the Slytherins afraid of him, the other houses had been as well. Up until the year Harry Potter joined the Hogwarts staff, that is. Last year when Hogwarts opened again after its three-year hiatus after the war, Malcolm had entered as a fifth year. But by then, with a slew of private tutors, Malcolm had achieved much. Though his parents had no particular love for Muggles and had shared that philosophy with Malcolm growing up, they had chosen a low profile, especially after the sentiments after the war. Anyone who seemed to be in league or harbored the same viewpoint as the Dark Lord soon found themselves a pariah in their own communities, and the Treelofts, being an old Wizarding family, had no wish to be ousted.

Yet Malcolm had a secret. His dislike for Muggles or even his interest in the Dark Arts was certainly no secret. And true, he kept to himself and was very secretive, even amongst the other Slytherins. But Malcolm had a bigger secret. At least it used to be.

He was gay.

He'd known it for years, tried to deny it, tried to work it out of his system by learning spells and hexes and curses, but it hadn't worked. Especially when he first saw Hufflepuff Rupert Fenwick last year. The same age as Malcolm, Rupert was tall, thin, with a protruding Adam's apple. His short hair was a mousy brown and he carried himself as all Hufflepuffs seemed to, with an air of oblivious disinterest. And when Rupert walked it was rather like some giant gangly hound. He was an unlikely love interest for any Slytherin, and Malcolm didn't think much of him at first, but as he attended classes with him, noticed the sparkle in his hazel eyes, his shouting laughter, the ease with which he carried himself, Malcolm grew more interested. Then he began to dream of him. And the dreams were more than disturbing because they involved the both of them kissing and touching. He'd always awaken with a stiff erection and took care of it methodically, trying not to think of anything or anyone in particular.

But it was only when he allowed his mind to think of Rupert when taking care of his almost nightly ministrations that they felt one hundred percent better. Rupert with his arms around him. Rupert's lips touching his. Rupert's hands touching his cock. If only he would, Malcolm would think dreamily, and then he'd come all over his fist.

But these were deep secrets, horrific secrets. If anyone ever found out… He hated himself for it. Hated his loneliness even more and yearned for someone. But they were all afraid of him and the more afraid they were the better it was, he decided, because if he had to be alone then perhaps it was better to be a Dark Wizard and reap the benefits of that power.

But then Professor Potter had to stick his nose into it, making Malcolm do all those detentions and homework and that trip to the Ministry. He was loath to admit that it opened his eyes to the plight of the Muggles. He certainly didn't want to be a Muggle. They were so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so clever to overcome their obvious handicap. He even grudgingly admired them after a fashion. It was said that Professor Malfoy had to live like a Muggle for two years. What must that have been like? He shuddered, thinking of it.

But perhaps he was feeling better about Muggles and better in general because of Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw them dance together at that first Yule Ball. At first he thought it was a joke, something blokes did to mess around. But when he saw them sway together, saw how they looked at one another, and then when they kissed under the mistletoe… That's when he knew. He knew he wasn't alone. If the famous Harry Potter and the infamous Death Eater Draco Malfoy could be poufters, maybe it wasn't so bad a thing to be.

Malcolm leaned against the brick wall, watching the steam blow out of the scarlet engine across the platform. Five to eleven. He'd have to board soon. He still hadn't seen Fenwick and began to wonder with a fearful pang in his chest if Rupert's parents hadn't reconsidered and pulled him from school again. But no. Rupert would have owled him as he had done all summer. Those letters had been Malcolm's lifeline. Filled with the stupid things boys talked of mostly but also of endearments and little reminders of the ways they had kissed and touched. He really missed him. He guessed he'd fallen hard for the Hufflepuff and was overjoyed when he discovered Rupert was gay, too. It was wonderful to be with someone and then it had all gone horrible when Rupert's parents found out and pulled him from Hogwarts.

Malcolm's parents on the other hand preferred to live in denial. Malcolm didn't care. At least they left him alone. But he wanted Rupert back. It was Serenity Hudson and Felecia Rosencrantz's idea to get the school together and try and save the jobs of Professors Potter and Malfoy-and it worked! And it also sent Rupert back to school.

But now it had been a whole summer and Malcolm had not been allowed to see Rupert. Could it be that Rupert was no longer interested in him? Is that why he didn't spot him on the platform? Maybe he was trying to lose himself in the crowd. Maybe he was already aboard. Malcolm scowled and clasped his arms over his broad chest. He better not be. He just better not. No one dumps a Slytherin, especially some wimpy Hufflepuff. Who did he think he was, anyway?

"Good God."

Malcolm spun, his heart racing. There behind him stood Rupert, shaking his head.

Rupert smiled. He had the best smile in the world, thought Malcolm. Even with one front tooth a little misaligned. "You git. I can tell from your flushed neck and that vein at your temple that you're thinking bad thoughts. Who's it about this time?"

"No one," he mumbled and turned away.

"I don't believe you… Oi! It's me, in' it? You thought I wasn't coming. You thought I'd dumped you or something."

"No, I didn't." He grabbed his bag and hoisted the strap over his shoulder.

"Yes, you did." Rupert was laughing now. He hated it when Rupert laughed at him. "You bloody well did. I can tell. You are such a git, you know that." He leaned close, and for a terrifying minute, Malcolm thought he might kiss him right there on the platform in front of everyone. "I'm not dumping you, you great prat," he whispered, lips close to his cheek. Malcolm could feel the heat from him and he moaned softly, wishing he had the courage to kiss the boy. "Dump someone with muscles like yours, with lips like yours, with those strong arms? Think I'm mad? No way, Malcolm. Not in this lifetime." He laughed again and straightened the strap on his shoulder. "Want to get a seat before they're all taken?"

He moved on ahead of Malcolm, leaving the Slytherin flummoxed behind him until he recovered enough to follow.

They boarded and found an empty compartment. Malcolm shuffled in just as Rupert pulled down the shades and closed the door, locking it with a charm. He stood with his back to it and faced Malcolm who sat sullenly by the window. "Well?" he said jauntily.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me? We have about two seconds before someone clamors to get in here."

Malcolm's heart gave a lurch and it sent him to his feet. He was on Rupert in an instant. Arms clasped about his narrow frame, lips pressed tightly to Rupert's, Malcolm felt himself melt against the other boy. Oh! He made him feel so alive! How come he couldn't feel that way all the time? His lips glued roughly to the other boy's but Rupert maneuvered for more. His tongue crept forward between Malcolm's lips, caressing his mouth and tongue, plunging deeply when Malcolm opened to him. Malcolm sighed, relishing the feel, the taste of his boyfriend's mouth. Rupert always took the initiative. Malcolm supposed the Hufflepuff enjoyed ordering a Slytherin about.

Rupert's hands crept down to Malcolm's backside and gripped tightly. His head changed angles and he took long pulls, sucking Malcolm's lips and making smacking sounds. Finally, he drew back to look Malcolm in the face and smiled. "There's a lad," he whispered, his lips just touching Malcolm's. "How I missed this."

"Me too," he gasped. His entire mouth was wet. What did he care? It was because Rupert kissed him. He licked his lips, tasting him again. Clutching Rupert's boney shoulders, he inhaled his scent, a mixture of sweat and soap. He dived forward and nuzzled Rupert's neck. The flesh of his lips scraped across stubbly skin just sprouting the beginnings of a patchy beard.

"Malcolm," Rupert groaned, throwing his head back. His large hands reached up to Malcolm's spiky hair and clasped the back of his head.

A loud rapping on the door made them abruptly break apart. Malcolm fell back against the seat. He was hard as a rock but there was nothing he could do about it here.

Calmly, Rupert went to the door and lifted the locking charm. "Oh. It's you two. Can't you see we'd like to be alone?"

Felecia Rosencrantz pushed her way through, her plaits bobbing. "Sorry, but the train's full and I'm not sitting in the corridor. Hey, Malcolm. What a surprise seeing you here." She tossed her bag to the overhead and flopped down on the seat opposite.

Malcolm adjusted his robe to hide his lap.

Serenity Hudson shouldered next to Rupert into the compartment and smiled apologetically. She was blushing but hid it under the sweep of her long black hair. "Sorry," she said, looking up at Rupert.

"No worries. Mi casa su casa," and he made a grand gesture encompassing the carriage. He sat next to Malcolm close enough so their thighs touched. Malcolm scooted away slightly. Rupert gave Malcolm a sidelong look before he turned to the girls. "So what's the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw team got planned for their sixth year?"

"First," said Felecia, straightening her robes, "It's really good to see the two of you together." Malcolm felt his face flush. "And second, I haven't got a clue. Oh! Except…" She elbowed Serenity. Serenity looked at her perplexed until Felecia pointed to her robes.

"Oh! Yeah. I'm a Prefect."

"Oh well done, Hudson," said Rupert, looking genuinely pleased. "Always the straight edge, Serenity. You'll be a perfect Prefect."

"That's what I told her," said Felecia knowingly. "Probably get top marks this year, too." She looked the two boys over, smiled, and leaned forward. "So. How are the two of you doing?" She waggled her brows suggestively. Serenity kicked her in the shin. "Ow! Watch it, Hudson!"

"Have a little class, Felecia."

"What? They're 'out'. Everyone knows it."

Malcolm groaned.

"Oh come on, Malcolm!" Felecia went on stridently. "Everyone saw you two at the dance. It isn't a secret."

"It's not something I like parading about, okay?" he grumbled.

Rupert threw his arm around Malcolm's shoulders and the Slytherin shrunk in his seat. "Yeah, old Malcolm here has a hard time opening that closet door, don't you, old sod?"

"Rupert!" he growled.

"Oh! Hear that? He's snarling at me. But he's damned cute doing it-"

Malcolm wrestled his shoulders away from Rupert's arm and stood up. "Can't you stop it for one minute?"

Rupert stared up at him surprised. "Malcolm! Get a grip."

Malcolm pulled at his robe uncomfortably. Even though he was more at ease with Serenity and Felecia, it still didn't make Rupert's public signs of affection any easier to take. "I've…got to go to the loo."

He stumbled over their feet, grabbed the door latch, and slid the door aside. The corridor was empty as he lumbered through. The countryside whizzed past the windows and the clattering of the wheels on the track rumbled under his feet. He saw blurred green out of the corner of his eye before he turned into the tight alcove where the door to the loo was. The door said it was vacant and he quickly slipped inside. He locked the door, sat on the toilet, and dropped his face in his hands. What was the matter with him? He was happier than he'd ever been in his life. The boy he liked certainly liked him back and he'd made new but unlikely friends in Rosencrantz and Hudson. It was better than most Slytherins could do. So why couldn't he just enjoy it?

He stood, twisted toward the tiny sink, and turned on the tap. He let the cold water run in the cup of his hands and splashed it on his face. He looked up at the mirror, water sliding down his wide cheeks, clinging to his brown lashes. The thing he had to focus on was Rupert. Rupert liked him. More than liked him, really. But that made him nervous as well, because the truth of the matter was, Malcolm had never allowed the two of them to do more than kiss and grope, and always over their clothes with nothing more than that. He knew that Rupert would have happily made him come, but it was probably just a bit of leftover denial. If they didn't do more than kiss, then he really wasn't gay, was he?

He shook his head and dropped it forward, hands clutching the sink. But he did want to do more. Merlin how he wanted to! Yes, he was gay. He knew he was. But it was so difficult. Thank goodness the Slytherins were afraid of him even though they still looked at him oddly and whispered behind his back (and only when they thought he couldn't possibly know they were doing it). Rupert was so open about it, especially after that nasty spell with his parents. Professor Potter visiting his home really did a world of good, bringing Rupert back to Hogwarts. He was so grateful to his Defense teacher, the Great Harry Potter. Funny how the man seemed so down-to-earth. He had pictured him far different from what he really was. And now he was even married! To another wizard! It warmed Malcolm's heart, gave him wild ideas of him and Rupert. But would he end up pushing Rupert away with all his worrying and timidity? "Rupert's right, Malcolm," he said to his reflection. "You've got to get a grip."

He stood upright, straightened his robes, and left the loo. When he returned to the compartment, Serenity and Felecia were talking animatedly. Rupert sat stiffly by the window and watched the scenery go by. Malcolm sat gingerly beside him but said nothing. They sat that way a long time, Felecia Rosencrantz holding court with Serenity, telling her exactly what they would be doing for the next sixth months when Rupert finally turned to Malcolm. "You know, Treeloft-" Malcolm hated it when Rupert started with his surname. "It's not as if it's a huge secret, you and me, if that's what you're worried about."

Felecia suddenly went quiet and both girls watched the boys wide-eyed.

Malcolm began to sweat. "I know," he said quietly, "I just don't like-"

"Yeah. So I hear. You don't like showing your affection or letting anyone else do it."

"It's just that…at home, we…" He glared at the girls. "Don't you have anything to talk about amongst yourselves, Rosencrantz?"

"Who me? Not a thing. Besides, this is far more interesting."

Serenity elbowed her again. She turned on her. "Honestly, Hudson. Just say what you mean. Quit taking it out on my body, okay?"

Rupert postured, clamping his arms over his boney chest. "Malcolm, do you like me or not?"

Why was he doing this now in front of that bossy Rosencrantz and her busy-body friend Hudson? He squirmed. "You know how I feel," he muttered.

"What's that, Malcolm? Didn't quite catch it."

"I said you know how I feel."

"Oh? And how is that?"

"Don't push me, Fenwick."

"Or what? You'll ignore me in class? You'll pretend you don't know me in the corridors? You'll sit a row back from me at Quidditch? Merlin, I've never experienced all that before!"

Felecia got to her feet and grabbed Serenity's robes. "Come along, my dear. This is getting too personal for me."

"No, no," said Rupert gesturing. "I think you should stay. After all, you're my only witnesses to his actually dancing with me. I just want to be sure I'm not hallucinating."

Felecia punched her fist in her hip and cocked her head at them. "You want to know what I think?"

"No," said Rupert, "but you'll tell us anyway."

"I think the both of you are a couple of idiots. You, Malcolm are too closed up. Live a little! You're out! What more do you have to fear? Take a cue from Professors Potter and Malfoy. They went the whole route, didn't they? Married, didn't they?" Rupert nodded with an air of self righteousness. "And you, Rupert." Fenwick sat back. "Stop pushing Malcolm. It's been really hard for him to come out to everyone. Remember how he was before?" She shook her head. "Honestly. Boys." She jerked her head and Serenity rose and followed her to the door. Felecia stopped at the doorway and turned back to them. "I'm giving you ten minutes, and then we're coming back. So keep it short and to the point." And with that, she let the door slide closed behind her.

Malcolm and Rupert looked at each other. "She's made some good points there, mate," Rupert said. "Guess I've been a bit bossy. Sorry."

Malcolm looked at his tangling fingers resting in his lap. "Guess I've been a little cautious."

Rupert's serious expression slowly mellowed into a smile. "Well. We've got nine minutes left. What do you want to do with the time?"

Malcolm looked up at him and a slow smile spread on his face. "Don't know," he said, scooting closer. His hand reached up and gently caressed Rupert's chest. "What did you have in mind?"

Rupert slid until his thigh was up against Malcolm's. His hand cupped Malcolm's cheek. "This." He leaned in and kissed him, opening his mouth to thrust his tongue in Malcolm's mouth. Malcolm welcomed him, turning his head until it was almost resting on Rupert's shoulder. The hand sitting on Rupert's chest snaked up to his neck and his fingers curled around it. He kissed Fenwick deeply, not stopping for anything. Such a feeling! His heart pounded like a drumbeat and his blood went straight to his erection.

But finally, he heard a rapping on the door and Felecia Rosencrantz's voice saying, "Knock, knock." They drew apart but Rupert kept Malcolm's hand in his. Malcolm wanted more than anything to withdraw his hand when the girls re-entered, but he did his best to simply leave it in the warm confines of Rupert's palm.

Rosencrantz certainly noticed but had the good sense to keep it to herself. They all talked about their upcoming year at Hogwarts and what they could expect. After about half an hour, Serenity had to leave to meet with the other Prefects but the three still plotted and planned for the next year.

"What do you think you want to do once you leave Hogwarts?" asked Felecia, picking bits of licorice wand out of her teeth.

Rupert sighed. "Dunno. Maybe Auror. Already caught me a Dark Wizard." He raised Malcolm's hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

Malcolm whipped his hand out of Rupert's. "That's not funny."

"Sure wasn't. You have to admit, Malcolm, you were headed down a Dark road, weren't you?"

Malcolm wriggled in his seat. "Maybe."

"Ooh, Malcolm." Rosencrantz leaned forward. "Did you ever do Dark magic?"

"If I did do any, do you think I'd tell you?"

She slid off her seat and sat hard next to him. "Come on, Malcolm," she said softly. "You know it would never go beyond the four of us-I'd have to tell Hudson, of course, when she got back."

Malcolm looked worriedly at Rupert. What would he think of it? "What would you say if I did?" he asked him.

Rupert took a deep breath. His usually bright face grew solemn. "Well, it's not as if I didn't suspect it, you know."

His eyes darted from one to the other. "Okay. Well. Yeah. I did."

"Ooh," said Felecia again. "What, exactly?"

Malcolm didn't really want to say. He felt Rupert tense beside him.

"You don't really want to know, do you?" And even though Rosencrantz was doing the talking, he looked at Rupert when he asked.

"Was it an Unforgivable?" asked Rupert, face like a mask.

Malcolm licked his suddenly dry lips. Very slowly, he nodded.

"Merlin's bollocks, Malcolm!" Rupert hissed. "You didn't."

He nodded again, afraid to speak.

Rupert stared at Rosencrantz. "Well…which one?"

Malcolm looked down at his hands. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. This was bad. Rupert wouldn't feel the same about him, he knew it. "Can we just drop it?"

"No." Rupert turned toward him. "I'd like to know."

"You'll hate me," he said. He hadn't meant to say it, but it had quite an affect on the Hufflepuff. Rupert grabbed his hands and held them tightly.

"I won't hate you. That's the past, in' it? You won't do it again, will you?"

"No! Never!"

"Then I think I should know."

Malcolm seemed to forget that Rosencrantz was in the same compartment. It was only Rupert's eyes he saw, his eyes he concentrated on.

"Which one, Malcolm?" he asked quietly.

Equally quietly, Malcolm replied, "All of them."

Rupert dropped Malcolm's hands and lurched back. "Bloody hell," he gasped.

Rosencrantz was at his other ear. "Gosh, Malcolm. W-what did you do? To whom?"

"I never did them on anyone. Just animals."

"But would you have done?" she asked, her voice smaller than normal.

"Yes! I bloody well would have! I was sick of everyone and everything. And the first would have been my parents!"

She sat back aghast. "You wouldn't have killed them, would you Malcolm?"

"NO! Killed my own parents? I'm not as mad as the Dark Lord. Don't be stupid!"

Rupert was quiet and Malcolm turned to him again, worried. "You asked, you know. I didn't want to tell you. You asked."

Rupert nodded but still didn't look at him. Now I've gone and done it. I swore to myself I would never tell and the first opportunity, what do I do? "Rupert? Please. Say something. Don't hate me. You said you wouldn't."

"I…I don't. I just never…I mean I thought once you might, but lately…" He shrugged, unable to finish his thoughts.

Malcolm scowled at Rosencrantz. "Well thanks for that! Thanks for making me say it!"

"Really, Malcolm. It's best you told us. We're your best friends. We should know. Does anyone else know?"

"Are you kidding? No one else knows. Not even my head of house. What do you suppose would happen to me if they did?"

"Don't worry, Malcolm," she said, patting his hand. "We won't tell. We'll never tell. We're your friends. Friends for good."

Malcolm felt his face flush. Friends. He'd never had those before. How did it happen? It must have been Professor Potter's doing. Potter always seemed to be helping Malcolm in some way. Always in the background.

He turned again to Fenwick, the boy's expression giving him a start. He reached a tentative hand to touch Rupert's and closed his fingers over it. Rupert looked down. It was the first time Malcolm had shown any sort of intimate contact in public and it hadn't been easy, but he wanted Rupert to know he was worried.

Rupert raised his head and gazed at Malcolm a long time. He turned his hand and entwined his fingers with the Slytherin. "We're okay, mate. It was just a shock."

"How did it feel?" asked Felecia.

Didn't she ever quit? Malcolm turned his scowl on her.

"Yeah, Malcolm," said Rupert. Malcolm was taken aback by Rupert's asking. "What was it like?"

Malcolm studied Rupert's long-fingered hand, the veins running up it, the boney knuckles. "Dark magic is…it's very heady. It's more than regular magic. It's almost addicting, you know. And the better you get at it, the better the feeling. Except…" He squeezed Rupert's hand tighter, as if gripping it could keep him safe. "Except the more you use it…the less human you feel."

"Wow," Felecia gasped. "Less human? Scary."

"Yeah," he nodded, licking the sweat off his upper lip. "It started to get a little scary for me. Especially when I read descriptions of what Vol-the Dark Lord looked like. I didn't fancy ending up looking like a ruddy snake."

They all fell silent for a moment. Fenwick leaned over toward Malcolm again. "Yeah. I don't fancy kissing a snake. At least not that kind."

Silence again until Felecia burst into peals of embarrassed laughter. Malcolm soon caught on and blushed furiously. He looked at Rupert's smile stretched across his face and shook his head at him.

Serenity Hudson slid the door open and looked at the three of them. "What's going on?"

* * * * * *

Hogwarts castle came into view silhouetted against a swath of backlit clouds. The summer sun was almost gone and though September first might have still been warm in England, the hills of Scotland kept autumn close and the four of them shivered in the damp darkness when they immerged from the train, robed and ready to face a new term.

The four did not retreat to their separate houses, but in an unspoken alliance, found a carriage and together got inside. The carriage lurched and rolled onward up the rutted road and Hudson leaned forward. "Do you suppose Professor Potter is back this year?"

"What makes you think he isn't, Hudson?" asked Felecia.

"Because it used to be that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers never returned for a second term. Rumour has it that the job is jinxed."

"That's crazy," she said, settling back. "'Course he'll be back. If he weren't, it would have been all over the Prophet."

"Hope he is," said Rupert. "He's a really great teacher. We've learned loads from him, haven't we?"

"He's my favorite teacher," said Malcolm quietly.

"Not at first, though, eh?" said Fenwick, poking him in the ribs. "You tried to curse him, didn't you?"

"What if I did?"

"Don't get your wand in a knot, Malcolm," said Rosencrantz. "You were different then. We like you now. An awful lot."

He cast his gaze out the dark window. Whenever they said things like that, it had the effect of warming his heart and aching his stomach at the same time. Was he really that terrible before? He guessed he was. He had tried awfully hard to be feared and it seemed to have worked.

The carriage rounded the curve of the road and entered into the castle courtyard. Everyone streamed out and headed immediately into the entrance and into the Great Hall. There, the four were forced to split, each going to their own house table. Malcolm watched longingly as Rupert left for Hufflepuff, feeling a slight pang of jealousy as he was greeted by his fellow housemates.

Malcolm eased onto the bench, taking a seat with a view of Rupert. Rupert always knew he did this and turned once to give him a smile and a wink. Malcolm felt better after that.

He also felt better as he scanned the head table to spy Professor Potter there. He gave Hudson a snort. She was always looking at the gloomy side of things. Potter was sitting next to Professor Malfoy now. He supposed they should sit together since they were married-and it gave him a blush to think of it. Married. How would that be? To go to bed every night with one's lover and to wake up to him, too. To chat over the breakfast table or lounge after dinner. To simply look across the room over one's book and see him there. He was a bit envious of them but after all, they were adults and could do what they liked. Malcolm looked over at Rupert and wondered if the Hufflepuff would want to continue on with him once they left school. He shook his head. It was stupid to worry over something like that now. That was two years away. Best to concentrate on this year's classes. Didn't want his grades to slip like the last time.

The first years wandered in led by Professor McGonagall, and the Sorting began. A few entered Slytherin, but not as many as there used to be, at least that's what his father told him. Well, it was only four years A.V. and Slytherins were still not a popular thing to be. They were still the smallest house, but that suited Malcolm. Less eyes staring at him.

The Sorting was over and then the feast, and soon Malcolm found himself shuffling with the other Slytherins down into the dungeons.

He changed for bed and flopped down onto his four-poster, using his wand to shut the curtains. He looked up at the canopy and sighed. Too bad Rupert couldn't be here lying beside him. How would that be, he wondered. What sort of things would Rupert do to him? He imagined a fair lot and even dreamed of it a bit. It got him hard thinking of it and he put a silencing charm on his bed before he eased his pajama bottoms down to his thighs. He grasped his exposed prick and gave it a few long strokes. Yes, that was nice. He imagined it was Rupert's hand-no. Rupert's mouth. "Ooh…" he groaned. The very idea of that red mouth of Rupert's, those lips wrapped around his stiff shaft… He got even harder. His hand pulled on his flesh. His thumb rubbed over the head, digging into the slit, feeling the slick pre-cum ooze over the tip. He used it as lube to stroke himself a few vigorous times. Yes. So good. "Oh Rupert," he groaned again, glad for the silencing charm. How would it feel? Would his tongue lick him? His mouth would be warm and wet and his lips would embrace him. It would all be so slick and so tight. He'd like that. He pumped his hand thinking of it, thinking of Rupert's face, his eyes closed in concentration, offering this exquisite pleasure to his boyfriend. Mmmm. Malcolm was getting close. He felt the pleasure wave rise up from his bollocks. He pumped faster. Rupert sucking him. Rupert's tongue licking him. Rupert's mouth closed over him as he came-and as he thought it, he did come, long strings of it shooting over his thighs, but imagining them shooting down his boyfriend's throat. Yes, yes, yes. He squeezed the last of his release from his softening cock and eased back with a sigh.

If only he were brave enough to suggest it to Rupert. If only it didn't make him irretrievably gay.

* * * * * *

Malcolm was incredibly glad that his first class of the day was Defense. He was anxious to see Professor Potter again, and, of course, he'd be in class with Rupert.

His classmates greeted one another and he found his seat behind Hudson and Rosencrantz. He left the seat beside him open for Rupert who loped in and dropped his book bag loudly on the floor beside him. "Overslept," he said to Malcolm but gave him a dazzling smile. Malcolm wanted very badly to kiss him but he knew that would have to wait till after class.

The door to the study at the top of the pulpit stair opened and Professor Potter immerged. He closed it behind him and smiled down at the class. He looked like he always did. His black hair was ruffled and unruly, his round glasses perched high on his nose, his Gryffindor tie peeking out from a knit waistcoat, his scholarly robes billowing around him as he rushed down the stairs. "Good morning, sixth years!"

"Good morning, Professor Potter!" they chorused, only because it seemed to discomfit him. Some giggled.

"All have a good summer?"

They all nodded in acknowledgment, but one Slytherin in the back called out in a sing-song, "How was your summer, Professor?"

Potter blushed. Everyone well knew that he was on his honeymoon with Professor Malfoy. Some girls tittered.

Malcolm reared up, twisted in his seat, and glared hard at his housemates. The Slytherin who spoke up looked back at Malcolm and paled, shrinking back in his seat.

"It was…just fine," said Potter, trying to hide a smile by ducking his head. "I hope you studied because we've got a lot to do this year. How many of you have ever heard of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

Everyone raised their hands. Felecia Rosencrantz couldn't resist adding, "Didn't you win that in your fourth year, sir?"

"Um…yes and no. While it's true I did win it, I was helped along the way. That is, someone cheated to make sure I won. So I don't really count it as any great accomplishment."

"It was only to get you to Lord Voldemort, wasn't it?" Malcolm heard himself say.

Potter turned to him, his expression fathomless. "Yes, Mr. Treeloft. That is exactly why I was in it in the first place."

"So you didn't mean to enter?" asked Serenity Hudson.

"No. Indeed. There was an age restriction imposed. And rightly so. The tasks were extremely difficult. And very dangerous. This year, we are going to learn the spells that I and my fellow champions used. They are all very useful. Some are quite hard to learn while others are pretty easy to pick up. And at the end of the year, we can have our own tournament of sorts only one not so dangerous but equally difficult. I'm sure you will be up to it. You'll have to use all your skills and cunning. And a few skills you can't learn in any classroom." Some students looked at one another perplexed, but Malcolm knew what the professor meant. "There is no rule against working in teams and in fact, I recommend it. Where would I have been if I didn't have help…where it counted. The winner or winners will receive a special citation from the school." The students oohed and awed at that. "Oh! I also have another announcement. If any of you sixth years would like to become teacher assistants, I am taking applications this year. I will review them and if you have the right requirements I will have extra duties for you. This is something new I'm trying with the headmaster's permission, of course. So get your applications and cv's to me as soon as possible. For now, I'll let you discuss for a moment amongst yourselves how you'd like to partner up for the challenges I'll set for you this year. You've got five minutes."

Professor Potter scanned the room with a broad smile before retreating to his desk and opening a book.

Serenity and Felecia turned around in their seats. "We're all working together, right?" Felecia said, looking at all their faces.

Rupert looked once at Malcolm. "'Course. Who else will keep the two of you out of trouble?"

"Okay with you, Malcolm?" asked Rosencrantz.

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Wicked!" she said. "We'll win this easy! I can't wait. What do you suppose we'll have to do?"

"Fight dragons?" asked Hudson, a little pale.

"Dragons?" said Rosencrantz, wrinkling her nose. "Who can afford that? No, I think it will be other things."

"Like what?" asked Rupert.

"Something to test our skills. And our loyalties," said Malcolm quietly.

"Really?" asked Rosencrantz. "You think so?"

"That's how Professor Potter thinks. He doesn't go with the obvious. I bet that's it."

Rupert clutched Malcolm's thigh. "I think you might be right, mate. Malcolm here seems to have a connection to Potter."

Malcolm heard little of what Fenwick said. He only looked at his long fingers splayed on his thigh. He almost rested his own hand over it but couldn't quite find the courage.

Professor Potter called a halt to the discussions and had the class work on reviewing hexes, curses, and spells. That filled the rest of the hour and he finally dismissed them.

Malcolm loaded his book bag again, anxious to have a quiet moment with Rupert when Potter called out to him. "Mr. Treeloft. A word."

He looked up at Rupert. "Meet you outside," he said. Rupert smiled and nodded, giving a wave to Potter as he left. Malcolm trudged up to his desk, wondering what he'd done wrong this time.

"Buck up, Malcolm, it's nothing bad. I just hope you'll consider putting in an application for teacher assistant."

Malcolm stared. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You're a very accomplished wizard and you seem to know this stuff backward and forward. I'd be pleased to consider you. And…well." He glanced toward the door. "Just between you and me," he said quietly, "you're sure to get it."

"Me?"

"Malcolm." Potter straightened, looking him in the eye. It looked as if he was trying not to smile. "You." He handed him a form.

"Well...thanks, Professor. I wasn't considering-"

"Change your mind, then. I want you, okay. It'll be good for you. Good for your grades. Now off you go. Fenwick's waiting."

"Oh yeah." He turned and slowly walked toward the door. When he looked back, Potter was already busy with papers.

Rupert was making his book bag dance with his wand when he looked up at Malcolm. The bag dropped to the floor. "What did he want? Are you in trouble?"

"No. He wanted me to apply as a teacher's assistant." He waved the form at Rupert's face.

"No way! Really? You should."

"I don't know why he wants me. He practically told me I'd get it."

"Because you're really good, you git. You're a great wizard, Malcolm. Do it. I'll help you fill it out."

"Okay."

"But…uh…later. Come here a sec." He dragged Malcolm into a shadowed alcove and behind a statue of a crusty old witch. He took the lapels of his robe and pulled him forward into a kiss. Malcolm sighed. "Oh Malcolm," he whispered against his lips. "I've been dying to do that all morning. You are such a sexy beast, you know that?"

"Rupert, why do you have to say those things?"

"Because it makes you blush and you are so very cute when you blush." He kissed him again. "Damn. We've got to go to class. But would you do me a favour?"

"Yes," he said against Rupert's cheek. He clutched his shoulders and hugged him close. He felt something hard against his thigh and wanted to rub his hips against him.

"Meet me on the third floor corridor by the tapestry of the centaurs, tonight at ten."

"Why there?"

"Because there's a storeroom there that nobody uses. And I've got some ideas for its use, my man."

Malcolm stiffened. "What do you want to do?" he whispered.

Rupert licked Malcolm's lips and drew back to look at him with a smoldering expression. "What do you think? See you at lunch." He left Malcolm standing there with an erection that wasn't going away.

He knew this was coming. Rupert wanted to do more. But didn't Malcolm want it too? "Merlin's beard," he breathed. He didn't know if he could go through with it. Then he dropped his hand to his aching cock and squeezed. He didn't know if he could not go through with it.

It took Malcolm a long time to be able to be seen and he went to his classes, barely listening to the teachers. At lunch he sat with Rupert at the Hufflepuff table. The other Hufflepuffs gave him the eye but they all knew Treeloft by reputation and didn't say anything to him.

"You look a little flushed, Malcolm. Anything to do with a certain storeroom later this evening?"

"Stop it," he hissed. "I wasn't able to leave the corridor for ages last time."

Rupert scooted closer. "I want you to think about it. I want you to squirm all the rest of the day in class."

"Rupert!"

"All right, all right. I thought Slytherins were made of sterner stuff-Oops. Cover yourself. Here comes Hudson and Rosencrantz."

Malcolm scooted further under the table and grasped his goblet as if his life depended on it.

Rosencrantz elbowed an annoyed Hufflepuff out of the way and sat on the bench beside them. "You two still eating?"

"Almost done," said Rupert, stuffing the last of his potatoes in his mouth.

"Hudson's applying for the assistant teacher thing," said Rosencrantz. She grabbed a carrot from Malcolm's plate and crunched off the end. "Any of you?"

"Malcolm is," said Rupert.

"I'm thinking about it."

"Professor Potter practically gave you the job."

"He gave you the job?" asked Hudson, crestfallen.

"I'm sure he'll take more than one," he muttered.

"Wow," said Felecia. "That's great, Malcolm. As for me, I haven't got a prayer, so I'm begging off. Shame. A chance to work with the Great Harry Potter. And he's so cute, too."

"Yeah," said Hudson.

"Yeah," sighed Rupert.

Yeah, thought Malcolm, but would never dream of saying it aloud. The four speculated again about the challenges Professor Potter would prepare for them until the bell rang and they trotted as one down to Potions.

Professor Malfoy was already in the room stirring a potion in a large cauldron set up at the head of the class. He waited until everyone was seated and looked up, but didn't stop stirring. "Good afternoon, class. Anyone have any idea what I'm brewing here? Ten points to whatever house pipes up first."

Everyone craned forward. Malcolm wasn't much good in potions but he looked anyway at the pink color and the chunks floating in it. It also gave off a sickly sweet odor.

"Sir!" said Rupert. "Is it a Brain Elixir?"

Malfoy smiled. "Well done. Spot on, Fenwick. Ten points to Hufflepuff. It is indeed, a Brain Elixir. Anyone know what a Brain Elixir is?"

No one raised their hand so Rupert raised his again. "Sir, it helps your brain. It makes you smarter. Temporarily."

"Indeed. Don't you wish you all used it all the time? I daresay I do. I wouldn't have to put up with such dismal papers from the lot of you. But I trust you will all do better than last year."

There was muffled giggling and mutters and then the class grew silent again.

"We're going to brew this and you are going to test it on yourselves, as usual. So do follow directions," and he eyed a particularly red Gryffindor. "I don't want anyone growing any horns again, much as it improved your appearance, Redfern." The Gryffindor smiled sheepishly. "Directions are in your book on page two hundred and twelve and the ingredients are in the cupboard. You have one hour."

They all set to work. It took nearly the full hour but Malcolm managed a decent potion (with a little help from Rupert) and at least got a complete in the lesson.

At the break, Rupert helped Malcolm fill out Potter's form and they didn't see each other again until dinner, sitting at separate tables.

Night had fallen. Everyone had retreated to their common rooms. Malcolm fidgeted nervously by the fireplace, commanding the best chair. Even the seventh years left him alone. He supposed a bad reputation was worth something. At least he wasn't bothered. But as the time ticked by and more and more Slytherins disappeared into their dorms for the night, Malcolm became more restless.

A look at the clock told him it was ten till ten. Time to go. There was one other Slytherin sitting at a desk studying, but Malcolm knew he wouldn't say anything as he left.

He climbed the stairs, keeping on the look-out for Filch or Mrs. Norris. He trudged up to the third floor, resisting the urge to light his wand. There was enough torchlight to see by-barely-and he made his way along the corridor until he found the tapestry. But no Rupert.

Where the hell was he? He wasn't going to wait out here forever. And just as he decided that he would go back, a door creaked opened and Rupert popped his head out from behind the tapestry. "Guess who?"

"Merlin's beard, Fenwick! You scared the living daylights out of me. Thought you were Filch."

"Sorry. Just getting everything ready. Come on in."

Malcolm swallowed and followed the boy behind the cloth and into the room. Rupert had set it up with candles all around. There was a moth-eaten settee draped with a ragged velvet cloth and two butterbeers on a rickety table. Malcolm sucked in his breath. He didn't know what he had been expecting but it wasn't this.

"Welcome to my parlor," he said, and swept in, sitting on the sofa. He patted the seat next to him. "Let's get cozy, Malcolm."

Malcolm edged into the room and slowly eased down. Rupert wrapped his arm around him instantly. "Want to snog?" But without waiting for an answer, Rupert took Malcolm's lips. "Mmmm. Malcolm. You taste so good. I love kissing you. You're brilliant at it."

"Thanks," he said shyly. "You're not bad yourself."

"Why thank you, mate." He leaned in and kissed him again. His tongue slid in and Malcolm found himself sucking its warm wetness. Rupert's hands rested on Malcolm's shoulders at first and then slid down his body, pulling his shirt free of his trousers. Soon his hands were running up inside his shirt on bare skin.

Malcolm almost pulled away, but it was too pleasant a sensation and he didn't want Rupert to stop kissing him. The hands explored, pinching a nipple, making Malcolm yip with surprise. The hands returned to the outside of his shirt, and began unbuttoning it. Malcolm lurched back and grabbed the shirt collar. "What are you doing?"

"Relieving you of the burden of clothing, mate. What's wrong?"

"I…ah…"

Rupert snaked an arm around his shoulders. His other hand caressed Malcolm's cheek. "Let's just take our time here, okay. Can I take your shirt off, Malcolm? I won't do anything else, I promise."

Malcolm considered and finally nodded. Rupert slid forward and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. When all the buttons were undone, he eased the shirt open and ran his fingers up his chest. "You look fantastic," he whispered. "You're so built up. I could never look like this."

"I wouldn't want you to," he muttered.

Rupert looked up at his face and smiled. "That's sweet." He drew the shirt over Malcolm's shoulders and let it fall to his waist. Malcolm felt suddenly naked. "I don't look nearly as wonderful." And Rupert quickly unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled it off. It was true. Rupert's chest was almost caved in. His tiny nipples were a light pink and his skin ghostly pale. But Malcolm drank it in and even got the courage to lean forward and bestow a kiss on his sternum. Rupert caught his breath and rubbed Malcolm's spiky-haired head. They looked at one another for a moment before Rupert drew forward and took him in his arms. Malcolm felt the electric sensation of skin on skin. Rupert was warm and his body felt marvelous in his arms. He ran his hands over Rupert's bare back, relishing the feeling. He pressed his face to Fenwick's shoulder, inhaling the scent of him: musky boy with a hint of soap. He kissed the skin under his lips and Rupert returned the favour by nibbling his ear lobe.

Rupert's hands traveled all over Malcolm and ran down his back and then dipped within the waistband of his trousers. Malcolm stiffened. "It's okay, Malcolm. I won't do anything you don't want. I just want to touch you a little. Will you let me?" He reached further, slipping his long fingers into the waist of his Y-fronts. Malcolm accepted it but didn't relax.

"You smell good, Malcolm. I like your cologne. I don't think cologne works on me."

"You could try some of mine."

"No. I like it on you." His hand fell lower and gripped the rounded flesh of his backside.

"Rupert-"

"I just want to feel you, Malcolm. I just wonder what your bum looks like. I bet its round and white and beautiful. I wish you'd let me slip your trousers down a bit." And even as he said it, his hands slipped around front and began unbuckling his belt. He kissed Malcolm's neck and shoulder and Malcolm was forming an objection in his mind but couldn't quite get it to his mouth.

The belt hung limply out of the way and Rupert flicked open the button at his fly. His kisses over Malcolm's skin became small nips. "I'm just going to open it a little, all right?" He took the zip and eased it down and once it was open his hand lay gently on Malcolm's growing bulge.

"Rupert, I don't know-"

"Easy mate." He pulled forward and kissed Malcolm on the lips, edging his mouth open with slow movements. The hand on Malcolm's cock squeezed a little and Malcolm raised his hips involuntarily. He was so hard!

"You feel good," said Rupert huskily. He yanked on Malcolm's trousers and pulled them off his hips. But he didn't wait for Malcolm to raise an objection before he curled his fingers over the waistband of his Y-fronts and yanked them down as well.

"Hey!"

Rupert's eyes glittered in the candlelight. They were looking at Malcolm's lap and Malcolm went scarlet. Never had anyone deliberately stared at his exposed cock like Rupert was doing now. Sure, boys always stole a peek, comparing, but never such a blatant gaze. His prick stood up tall and red over a nest of dark curls. "I want to touch it," said Rupert and Malcolm was too gob-smacked to say anything. Rupert's hand reached and his fingers gently grazed the shaft. Malcolm opened his legs without thinking and panted. This was crazy! This was too much.

The fingers-someone else's fingers!-traced up the hard shaft and curved over the taut, shiny head. "Malcolm," he purred. "I knew you'd be big."

Malcolm said nothing. Breathing was a priority at the moment.

And before he could draw a breath, Rupert was leaning forward. No. He wasn't doing what Malcolm thought, dreamed, wished he was doing. Rupert opened his lips, stretched out his tongue, and licked the head. Malcolm almost came right then and there. But he held himself, waiting for more. And then more came. Rupert lowered his mouth and took in the cock halfway down the shaft.

"Oh God!" cried Malcolm. His hands reached up and grabbed Rupert's short hair, fingers slipping and unable to find purchase until he fastened them on his ears. Slowly and a little sloppily, Rupert dragged his mouth up and down, licking the head and then sucking on it. "Rupert! Y-you shouldn't-"

Too late. Malcolm couldn't hold back the rush of orgasm blasting up from his balls and he shot his cum into Rupert's mouth. Rupert closed his eyes and sucked fiercely until he swallowed it all and even then Malcolm continued to pump into his mouth, his hips thrusting unwillingly. He pushed Rupert away at last but the Hufflepuff was too distracted to notice. He looked up at Malcolm with a lopsided grin, white release dripping from his chin and on the side of his mouth. "That was brilliant. Did you like it? It was my first time."

"Mine, too," Malcolm stuttered.

And he did like it. A lot. But he wasn't willing to say so.

Rupert looked sheepishly at his own erection through his trousers. He quickly undid his fly and pulled it free. Malcolm looked. It was long and thin and curved upward somewhat. Did Rupert want him to do that? He certainly liked the look of it but he wasn't willing to do that for anyone yet.

Rupert fingered his erection. "What shall we do with this, I wonder?" He looked up at Malcolm with rounded eyes. "Fancy a shag, Malcolm? I really want to be inside you."

Malcolm shot to his feet, his trousers and pants still hanging around his knees. "No! I…I can't do that."

"Oi, Malcolm. Calm down. Didn't I just give you the blowjob of your life? Well, your first one, at any rate." He wiped his chin and smiled. "I said I fancied it, but we don't have to do it right now. Maybe you want to…you know. Touch me."

Malcolm shook his head. He couldn't really understand his reluctance. He really did want to touch him and Rupert looked disappointed.

"Well. Mind if I wank for you? Will you watch?"

Malcolm eased back down to the settee and nodded.

"Oh. You're that kind, are you, Treeloft?" he teased. His hand curled around his prick and pulled on it. His other hand fondled his sac and he spread his legs to give himself better access. He raised his hand for a moment, spit into the palm, and resumed easing his hand over his cock. His fingers twisted the head and shifted down again, pumping steadily faster. He never took his eyes off of Malcolm who alternated watching Rupert's face and his cock. He watched as Rupert's face screwed up, turned red, and his cock suddenly spurt white blobs over his hand. He milked it with a grunt until he was spent and lay back, gently stroking it until it softened in his hand. One white dot of cum had landed on Malcolm's bare thigh and without thinking Malcolm scooped it up with his finger and sucked his finger into his mouth. He was almost as surprised as Rupert was watching him. It tasted salty and a little metallic, but not bad. It was a step anyway.

"Did you like that, Malcolm?"

"Yes!" he growled. He grabbed Rupert's arm, dragged him forward until he was lying on Malcolm's chest, and kissed him fiercely. Rupert's arms twined about his neck and their spent cocks rubbed together. Malcolm sighed in Rupert's mouth. It hadn't been perfect because Malcolm had balked, but it hadn't been bad either, for a first time. He just wished he wasn't so afraid and he didn't even know what he was afraid of.


On to Chapter Two
"Treeloft's Problem"

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