FIC: The Frog Prince (Harry/Draco)

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Title: The Frog Prince
Author: fantasyfiend09
Prompt: PROMPT # 136
Adapted from: The Frog Prince fairy-tale
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~7,600
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *None*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Dear who_la_hoop, you had so many clever ideas and I wanted to write all of them! I hope that I have done this one justice, despite the tame rating. I think it was the whole children's story association that resisted any serious smut.
Huge thanks to the brilliant shantismurf for corrections, guidance, encouragement, and buckets of patience.
The name Marlow means 'from the dried lake'.
Summary: 'I will retrieve your ball, but in return you must bring me into the castle and care for me. You must feed me from your plate, protect me from harm, and let me sleep on your pillow.'





* * *



Wind whipped through Harry's hair as he soared through the autumn air. A glance to his right showed Ginny circling the other end of the pitch, her body tense as she searched for the same glint of gold Harry sought. He looked to his left and scanned the air.

There!

He had it and he knew it. Ginny would never cross the distance in time, so he didn't even bother to hide his dive toward the fluttering gold ball. Pure joy raced through his body as his hand enclosed the smooth metal between desperate feathered wings. He had caught it. He was still good at this, and it had nothing to do with Voldemort.

He slowed his broom and brought his captive to his lips. 'Finite,' he whispered. The little wings disappeared leaving Harry with a perfect gold ball the size of a golf ball. He smiled at it and resisted the urge to kiss it.

It was not a typical Snitch, but a prototype for Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' new voice-activated Snitch-Snatch for Seekers of all ages and talents. It would respond to detailed verbal instructions and adjust its speed and flight pattern to provide the requested level of challenge. It could even account for discrepancies in the talent of the Seekers. Harry had made sure it would not go easy on him, even though Ginny was in better form.

The Snitch-Snatch was the first thing George had invented on his own, and Harry had joined the Weasleys in being fiercely proud of him. George had given it to him on Harry's eighteenth birthday with a simple, 'Fred would want you to have it. For testing purposes, mind.' Harry had just nodded as he blinked back tears. It was as if George had said that Fred's death wasn't Harry's fault.

'Oi!' Harry blinked out of his reverie and turned to see Ron fly up beside him. 'You spaced out there. Hearing the roaring crowd in your head?' Ron grinned at him.

Harry shook his head. 'No. Just really glad to be back this year.'

'Yeah. Imagine a year with no mad wizards or elaborate plots to take over the world.'

'No Dementors and no Umbridge.' Harry felt like he was floating, and it had nothing to do with the new Firerocket broom between his legs.

'Anyway, Ginny's going to help me practise Keeping.’ Ron executed a perfect roll on his own new broom. ‘You want to join?'

Harry considered it as he tossed and caught his golden ball with the hand not gripping his broom. 'I'm a bit tired, but a—' The ball slipped through his fingers, and Harry could only watch as it fell to the earth below. It was only then that Harry realised that they had drifted from the Quidditch pitch and were now hovering over an unused and overgrown area of the grounds. Well, fuck.

Ron offered to help him search, but Harry waved him off. He could already see a flash of gold below him and knew that Ron was desperate for as much practice as possible before Ginny held trials next week. Harry flew toward the flash he'd seen and finally saw the Snitch-Snatch resting on the rim of a stone ring. At first he thought it might be the base of a ruined tower, but as he neared he saw it was a well. He was almost upon it when a sudden gust of wind blew the golden ball off the rim and into the well.

'Fuck!' Harry stared into the deep, narrow hole. He could make out a mess of thorny vines well below him and nothing more. What's more, the vines were wizardsbane, a nasty creeper that was completely immune to magic. He tried a Summoning Charm anyway, but the plant just glowed as if absorbing the spell. 'Fuck!' He kicked the stone wall and fought back tears. How could he tell George he'd lost the Snitch-Snatch?

He stepped backward and his heel caught against his Firerocket. 'Fucking broom!' he shouted. 'I'd give ten of you to get that Snitch back!”

'I can get your ball, but I don't want a broom.'

Harry spun around looking for who had spoken. It had been a man's voice, although slightly distorted as if the speaker had a cold. 'Who's there?'

'I am here on the well, and I can retrieve your ball . . . for a price.'

Harry looked to the rim of the well where the Snitch-Snatch had rested only moments before. There sat a green frog. Or toad. He didn't actually know the difference.

'A talking frog?' Really, after gigantic talking spiders, Harry shouldn't be surprised anymore. But he was. He briefly thought of Scabbers and feared a Dark wizard Animagus, but then he remembered that an Animagus couldn’t talk in animal form. Hadn’t he often wished that Sirius could speak to him as Snuffles?

'How astute,' the frog drawled. Yes, Harry was being talked down to by a slimy amphibian. For a creature lacking eyebrows, it managed a look of disdain. Or maybe Harry had just imagined that. 'If you are done stating the obvious, shall we discuss your ball? You would like it back, I presume.'

'Yes!'

'I will retrieve your ball, but in return you must bring me into the castle and care for me. You must feed me from your plate, protect me from harm, and let me sleep on your pillow.'

'What? Don't you just want flies or something?' The sides of the frog’s wide mouth dipped down.

'No. I don't want flies,' it snapped. 'I want a warm bed and real food. I want out of this disgusting pond and into the castle!'

Harry realised that it wasn't worth arguing over. The frog was the size of his fist and unlikely to win a fight with the vines twisting around in the well. It would almost certainly be choked or crushed by the aggressive plant.

'Listen. There's no way you can get my ball. That's wizardsbane and it—'

'Yes, thank you for the introduction to Herbology. I am well aware of the nature of the vine. However, there is a hole in the well that can be reached from the bottom of the pond.' Harry glanced over the far edge of the well and saw the frog's pond. It looked like a lake that was slowly drying up. 'Your ball is sitting in the water below the wizardsbane's reach, and I can retrieve it and pull it out into the pond.'

Harry didn't dare get his hopes up, but he nodded anyway. 'Um, okay.'

With a few hops, the frog circled the edge of the well and dove into the pond. Harry stood on his toes and stared at the water. Would the frog be able to get the ball? How would it even carry it? What if the wizardsbane could reach—

With a splash, a gold ball flew out of the water toward Harry. He caught it on reflex and felt the tension seep from his body as he held it tight once again. He grabbed his broom and prepared to mount. He was so excited to have the Snitch-Snatch back and could barely wait to tell Ron.

'Wait!' Harry froze at the desperation in that one word. 'You promised! You said you would take me with you and keep me safe!'

'Huh?' Harry had been so focused on whether or not the frog might be able to retrieve his treasure that he hadn't really thought about what would happen if the frog succeeded. He remembered the frog's odd request for food and a pillow. 'Oh yeah.'

'Oh yeah, he says.' The frog had narrowed its bulbous eyes. 'Convenient to be the bloody Saviour.' Harry blinked. He hadn't realised that even the Hogwarts frogs knew about the war and his role in it. The frog stared at him and he realised it was waiting to be taken to the castle.

Harry didn't have a pet anymore; the mere thought of another owl hurt too much and he'd never really considered another animal. He didn't much fancy the idea of a frog—a bit slimy and useless, he thought—but this one was able to talk. Maybe it would make friends with Neville's toad, Trevor. That would make Neville happy at least.

Harry looked down at the glaring frog. As it had already fulfilled its half of the deal, Harry didn't really have a choice. 'Alright. I'm flying back, though. So you can . . . um, here.' He picked up the frog and slipped it into his pocket. There was a muffled protest, but Harry ignored it. He took off on his broom to find Ron and Ginny.

'You find it?' Ron shouted from his spot in front of the goal posts. Harry held up the golden ball and saw Ron grin. 'Great! It's almost time for dinner.' Ginny threw a few more Quaffles and Ron blocked all but one.

'Not bad,' she said as they landed. 'It helps that our Keeper last year was rubbish.' She bumped her brother's shoulder playfully. 'Of course, our Seeker was excellent.' She gave Harry a smirk and he laughed.

'Yeah, but I hear she'd rather be a Chaser.' His smile faltered as she narrowed her eyes.

'Maybe she'd play Seeker just to spite you.' Harry froze. His mind raced back to the night after the Final Battle and the way she had raged at him. How dare you tell me to hide away when my friends and family are fighting for their lives! I took care of myself just fine all the months you were gone. They had made their peace after that, but he knew she wouldn't rekindle their romance. As she glared at him on the Quidditch pitch, he wondered if he'd lost her friendship as well.

Ginny threw her head back and laughed. 'Oh Harry, I'm not going to keep you from playing Seeker. You're the whole reason I'm captain in the first place.' Her smile lit up her eyes. 'And I think you deserve it after all the games you were forced to miss over the years.'

Harry pulled her into a quick hug. 'Thanks, Gin.'

Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were sitting at the Gryffindor table when they arrived. Harry sat among his friends and smiled at the normalcy of the moment. He was chewing his mashed potatoes when his pocket began moving and a green head popped out.

'Put me on the table,' the frog said. 'I'll eat from your plate.'

Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of the frog sharing his meal. He was about to suggest that he just bring some bread back to his room when Hermione spoke.

'Harry? Who was that?' Harry looked up to find several sets of eyes on him. So much for normalcy. He lowered his voice so that only his friends could hear and relayed the tale of meeting the frog. At the end of the story, he pulled out the frog and put it on the table. It sat blinking for a moment before jumping closer to Harry.

'It can really talk?' Neville asked.

'It?' The frog puffed it's chest out until it looked like it was belching. 'I am not an inanimate object.'

'Oh, sorry.' Neville looked torn between apologetic and disbelieving. 'Um, what should we call you? My toad is named Trevor.'

'A toad. What a . . . traditional choice in familiar.' The frog curled its lip.

'What should we call you?' Harry asked. 'I mean, if you're going to be my pet, you should—'

'Pet?!' The frog sounded angry.

'Well, if I'm feeding you and you’re sleeping on my pillow. Yeah. Sounds like a pet.'

The frog made some grumbling noises. 'Well if I'm your pet,' he spat the last word, 'then you should come up with a name. Pets don't name themselves.'

'True, but pets don't usually talk,' Ron said. The frog glared it's huge eyes at him. 'Well, they don't!'

'Fine,' the frog huffed. 'As I fear what name I'd be given, you may call me Marlow.' The others introduced themselves without commenting on the oddity of exchanging pleasantries with a frog. Marlow nodded at each of them and then hopped over to eat from Harry's plate.

After dinner, Harry held out his hand for Marlow to hop onto. The frog wasn't actually slimy now that he was dry, a good sign for Harry's pillow. And Harry supposed he wasn't the worst-looking frog either. He was a nice rich green and smoother than the average frog. His eyes were vaguely like a cat's eyes, just placed ridiculously high on the creature's head. It wasn't quite an owl, but it certainly could be worse.

As he was passing the Slytherin table on his way out of the Great Hall, he noticed Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini talking at the end of the table with their heads close together. Parkinson looked upset and was waving her hands about as she spoke.

'. . . haven't heard anything from him!' Harry caught as he passed. He quickened his steps until he was at Ron's side.

'Parkinson was saying she hadn't heard anything from him. I think she is talking about Malfoy.' Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts at the start of the year, but had left a week ago during the first Hogsmede visit. 'Don't you think that's odd?'

Ron shrugged. 'So he buggered off and didn't tell his girlfriend. Maybe he's embarrassed that she's sticking it out when he couldn't.' The most popular theory about Malfoy's sudden departure was that the cold looks and snide comments had finally become too much for him.

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with Malfoy's disappearance. He pushed the thought from his mind and joined Ron for their usual Sunday night game of wizarding chess once they reached the tower.

'You really are rubbish,' Marlow drawled as he watched them play.

'Would you like to try?' Harry snapped. Marlow hopped onto the table and began issuing orders to Harry's chess set. After a gruelling match, he captured Ron's queen and called checkmate. Ron was so pleased to find a decent challenge that he didn't seem to mind losing to a frog. So long as he could have a rematch, of course.

'If you two are going to play chess all night,” Harry said with a stretch, 'I'm going to get a shower.'

'You can't leave me with him!' Marlow cried.

Harry blinked. 'Why not? You're playing chess. You don't need me for that.'

'Because . . . but he's . . .' Marlow sputtered. 'Don't you know that weasels eat frogs?'

Harry laughed so hard he felt light-headed. It was great to feel so joyful and free. 'Marlow, it's a name. He's not a real weasel.' He patted the frog fondly and left for his shower.



* * *



'You are not leaving me alone up here!'

Harry was rather surprised at the volume such a small frog could manage. At least he'd shut up long enough for Harry to get a decent night's sleep. 'Well, yes. I have to get to class and—'

'Then I will attend with you.'

'But pets are meant to stay in dorms! Hermione doesn't take Crookshanks to class!'

'Rightly so,' Marlow said with his nostrils in the air. 'Besides, I am small and can hide in your pocket. I'll bet Lon—that other boy carries his toad around with him.'

'What, Neville? I don't think so. I've never really paid much attention.'

Marlow muttered something about understatements, but Harry was too rushed to worry about it. 'Fine. Just come here so I can get going!' The frog hopped gracefully to the edge of the bed and then onto Harry's outstretched hand. 'Clingy git.'

Marlow made a protest, but whether it was to do with Harry's insult or the rough way he shoved the frog into his pocket Harry didn't know. Or care.

He sprinted down staircases and hallways and arrived at Potions just as Slughorn opened the door. 'Harry, m'boy! I've got a nice challenge for you today. Can't have you getting bored on me.' He gave Harry a pat on the shoulder before turning to greet Hermione and Ron. On a different day, Harry would have felt pleased by the way Slughorn finally acknowledged Ron as a wizard with a promising future. Instead, he was fighting down panic at the thought of a challenge.

So far, Slughorn had been reviewing theory and revisiting potions Harry had brewed with the Half-Blood Prince's help. Harry had been able to remember just enough of Snape's notes to make superior potions, but he’d known a time would come when Slughorn would start more advanced material. Really, Harry knew he was lucky to have kept up the ruse so long.

He glanced at Hermione, even though he knew she would offer no help. She'd been less hostile about his brewing when he was working from memory. Well I'm glad you actually learned something from Snape. But she still thought he was being deceitful about his abilities.

He tossed his book onto an empty table and looked up at the board for Slughorn's instructions. His heart dropped when he saw the entire board crammed with tiny print. Just reading how to brew the potion would take an hour! At the top of the board was written Faveo Restituo. 'Is that like restitution?' he mumbled as he tried to discern the purpose of the potion from its name.

A muffled voice came from his pocket. Harry glanced around and saw no one watching, so he pulled Marlow from his pocket. 'What'd you say?'

'I asked, is what like restitution.'

'Oh, um, that.' Harry nodded toward the front of the room. Marlow looked over and his little body went rigid.

'Faveo Restituo,' he whispered. It sounded like a prayer.

'You know what it is? What it does?' Harry felt the knot in his chest ease. 'Can you tell me?'

Marlow glared at him. 'Because, of course, you do not know.' Harry gave his best pleading smile and Marlow sighed. 'Fine. Fine! Faveo is aid or support and Restituo is to restore. The potion assists in undoing various forms of poison, hexes, jinxes, and even simple curses.'

'Oh. Like a healing potion?'

'Yes, somewhat. Except it only removes the magical cause. It won't undo any damage the magic has done. So if a spell is preventing your lungs from getting air, it will remove that spell. But if the lack of air has already caused damage to the body, it won't fix that.'

Harry nodded. The explanation made perfect sense. 'You should teach this class,' he whispered, 'I'd be doing much better.'

'Doing better?! Slughorn is already grovelling at your feet. If you were doing any better, you'd be teaching it yourself!' Marlow sounded rather bitter. Harry was about to ask about it, but Slughorn called the start of class. When Slughorn asked about the purpose of the potion, Harry's hand shot into the air. He didn't dare glance at Hermione as he relayed Marlow's explanation.

'Cheat,' the frog whispered. Harry just beamed at him and stroked his thumb down his back.

'Thanks.'

Marlow proved even more helpful as the lesson progressed. He taught Harry a spell to transcribe the instructions onto parchment so that he could check off each step as he did it. He corrected Harry's stirring and cutting technique and even gave suggestions (grind the sea salt first!) that made Harry feel like he had the Half-Blood Prince's help once again.

'Lift me up so I can examine the colour,' Marlow demanded. Harry complied. Best to keep his helper happy, after all. 'Perfect,' Marlow whispered as if the potion were somehow holy. 'You'll need to let it sit for a week before adding the peppermint.' He went silent and still a moment. 'We should add some star anise then, too. Just to be certain.'

Harry had no idea why they should add star anise, but Marlow seemed certain and he clearly knew the subject far better than Harry did. Sad statement, given that Marlow was a frog from a pond and Harry was a wizard with six years of Potions experience.

Slughorn came around and gave Harry a glowing smile and a clap on the back. Marlow huffed from his hiding spot behind the cauldron.

'Are you this helpful in every subject?' Harry asked once Slughorn had moved on.

'Do you need help in any other subject?' came the waspish reply.

Harry thought about it. 'No. I guess not.' He had been throwing himself into his studies, determined to prove that he was more than a prophesy. 'Charms and Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts all make sense to me. They were all things I needed just to survive last year. Other than Polyjuice, I've never really needed Potions. Oh, and Bezoars!'

Marlow nodded. 'Then why take it?'

'It's required for Aurors.'

'For most Aurors, yes, but I suspect they'd make an exception for you.'

'I don't want to be an exception!' Harry glanced around to realise that some heads had turned at his outburst. He smiled sheepishly and ducked his head down as if reading his textbook. 'I don't want to be an exception,' he whispered. 'I want to earn my place just like everybody else.'

Marlow cocked his head to the side and stared at Harry with his bulbous eyes. It was rather a cute pose, reminiscent of a confused puppy. 'Don't you think you've earned it already?'

'No.' Harry sighed out the word. Marlow just stared at him until Slughorn called the end of class.



* * *



Maybe Marlow wasn't going to help Harry's marks after all.

'Do you see? She's practically getting off on her own quill!' Marlow was hopping up and down with his eyes locked on a Ravenclaw girl a few tables away. She was running her quill up and down her neck as she read a textbook.

'Marlow. I have to write this essay.' Harry tried to keep his voice quiet. The last thing he needed was to get banished from the library.

'Oh fine,' Marlow huffed before he went blessedly silent. Harry wrote a few more lines of his Transfiguration essay. 'Oh my god! Look! Boot is staring at Pansy's chest! And he has a girlfriend, that perv.'

Harry dropped his head to the table. 'Marlow, I am trying to—How do you know everyone's name?'

Marlow stopped hopping and turned to look at him. 'I pay attention,' he drawled. 'I've been attending classes with you all week, Potter.' Harry rolled his eyes at the way his own pet insisted on calling him by his surname. At least he didn't spit it the way Malfoy always had.

'Fine, whatever. Just keep the gossiping down so I can work. Please?' The frog glared but nodded.

Harry finally finished his essay and looked up to find Marlow staring at Pansy Parkinson. 'Now who's staring at her chest?' he teased.

'Oh, please. That's just for show.'

'What? Her chest?' Harry found half of what his pet said completely cryptic.

'She looks so sad,' Marlow was still staring at Parkinson and his voice was soft and low. Harry looked over and saw that Parkinson did indeed look sad. Even from a distance, Harry could see that her eyes were dark and her skin was sallow. She looked like she hadn't slept, and her hair was messier than Harry recalled.

'Her boyfriend left,' he explained to Marlow. 'Neither of them were very popular, but they stuck together. About a week ago he went into town and didn't come back. I think she misses him.'

Marlow was quiet the rest of the night. The next morning, Harry woke to find his new pet was gone.



* * *



Marlow had been with Harry less than a week, but his absence was like a deafening silence. There was no chatter during meals, no advice in class, and no gossip as Harry sat in the library. He had asked everyone he knew and looked everywhere he could think of, but there was no sign of Marlow.

Harry swore he would never get another pet.

'Still no Marlow?' Hermione asked gently that evening as Harry moped by the fire. Harry shook his head. 'Maybe he'll come back in the night.' Harry shrugged. He wasn't willing to raise his own hopes. At least tomorrow was Saturday; Harry planned to spend the day moping in bed.

He was about to excuse himself to his dorm when he heard a knock on the portrait door. A younger girl opened it and then looked over at him. 'Harry?' she called shyly, 'It's for you.'

Harry was very surprised to find Pansy Parkinson standing in the hallway holding her hands clasped together. 'I think you lost this.' She was smirking, and it was almost a welcome sight after having looked so sad all week. She parted her hands and held out a bright green frog.

'Marlow!' Harry jumped out of the portrait and scooped up the frog. He nuzzled the frog against his cheek before pulling back to beam at it.

'Potter,' Marlow drawled.

Harry frowned. 'Where the hell have you been?! I've been worried sick.'

'He came down to the dungeons. I think he got a little lost.' Pansy was staring at Marlow quite intently. She glanced up at Harry, and he felt as if she were reading his soul. 'Take care of him,' she whispered and then walked away.

Harry glared at his pet. 'You were staring at her in the library last night. You had me looking all over for you because you were . . . on the pull!'

Marlow glared back. 'I do not fancy Pansy.'

Harry just rolled his eyes. He was too happy that Marlow was back to start a fight. 'C'mon. Ron needs some humbling at chess.'



* * *



'It makes sense that Marlow would like the dungeons,' Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. They were clustered at the end of the Gryffindor table enjoying warm buttery scones. Ginny had broken one into small pieces, and Marlow was eating them with as much dignity as a web-footed amphibian could manage. 'They're under the lake, after all.'

Harry thought about her comment and wondered if Marlow needed to spend time in water. Harry really didn't know much about frogs and their needs. Not that he's a typical frog, he thought as he watched Marlow eat another piece of red currant scone. And then there was the talking.

But Harry decided he should look into it. He would never forgive himself if Marlow fell ill because Harry had been a negligent owner. A well-timed drip of water fell from the back of his hair to trickle down his neck, and Harry felt the ache of guilt for his morning shower. He had happily left Marlow asleep on his pillow, never even wondering if the frog would benefit from a shower, too.

'Maybe I should take him with me next time I shower.'

Marlow began coughing.



* * *



'This is how you spend Saturday night?' Marlow's eyes seemed even wider than usual as he stared at Harry from the bedside table. They had just come up from dinner, and Harry had retreated to his room to read on his bed. He had no interest in sitting around the Common Room watching his friends pair up and cuddle. He certainly didn't want to watch the couples that went beyond cuddling in the corners and shadows.

'There's nothing wrong with getting some alone time,' he snapped.

'Oh. Alone, are you?' Marlow shot back. His large mouth was frowning.

Harry thought about his words and found his mistake. 'No! I'm glad you're here. I just meant . . . well, usually I would be alone. It's actually rather nice to have someone to talk to for once.' He smiled at Marlow and ran a thumb along his back.

'So why hide away if you want conversation?'

'Because conversation isn't what most people look for on a Saturday night. If we stayed in the Common Room, we'd be surrounded by people snogging within minutes.'

'So why not join in?' Marlow sounded curious but not judgemental. It was nice to think there wasn’t a right answer Harry was meant to give.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know. It's just not my thing.' Marlow gave him an odd look. 'It's not that I don't like snogging! I just would rather . . . I don't want to snog some stranger who's hung up on the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. It was all right when I was dating Ginny, but that was ages ago and I haven't really found anyone since.'

'She doesn't seem to have the same problem,' Marlow muttered. Harry laughed and poked the catty frog with his finger.

'Be nice, you. I'm happy for her.' His mirth bled away. 'I just wish I could find something like what she has. Something like what Ron and Hermione have.'

'And what's that?' Marlow probed in a gentle voice.

'Someone who gets me, I guess. Someone who knows my moods and knows when to give me space and when to smack me upside the head.' He gave Marlow a wry smile. 'I'd like to be able to talk to someone as freely as I can talk to you. You don't think I'm perfect, but you don't try and fix me either.' Marlow had gone rather still and quiet, and Harry felt angered by the frog's withdrawal. 'Look, I'm not going to molest you! I am picky enough to prefer my own species, thank you very much.' He frowned and turned away. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he really in a strop because his frog didn't fancy him?

'I imagine you'd rather find a witch than a slimy green frog.' Marlow's voice sounded odder than usual. It was low and clouded.

Harry shrugged. 'You're not so slimy.' He turned back to Marlow and gave him a little smile. 'And I actually like green.' Marlow's mouth twitched as if he were deciding whether to smile. 'But yeah, human would be nice. I don't much care whether witch, wizard, or Muggle. I'd just like . . .' He couldn't think what to say that wouldn't make him sound pathetic.

He forced a smile on his face and scooped Marlow up. 'At least I'm not talking to myself, right? I may not have a date, but I've got some good company.' He felt his chest warm at the gaping smile Marlow gave him in return. He felt a rush of affection for his ridiculous little frog who ate human food and insisted on attending classes so he could instruct Harry and gossip about his classmates. 'I love you, little guy,' he murmured and kissed the little frog on the top of his head.

A flash of light and a loud pop startled him into dropping Marlow as he hid his face behind his hands. When he looked up, Draco Malfoy was crouched on his bed looking pale and terrified. And naked. Completely naked.

Harry's heart was pounding and his thoughts raced as he tried to process what he was seeing. Long moments passed and neither of them moved from their twin frozen postures. Harry couldn’t quite meet Malfoy’s eyes, but he was terrified of letting his gaze travel down the expanse of pale skin on display. He forced himself to stare at the man’s neck, but that wasn’t helping his heart rate.

'You . . . you . . .' Harry wasn't sure if it was his mind or mouth that failed to produce a sentence, but it was probably for the best: ‘naked’ was the only word bouncing around his head.

A moment later, Malfoy dove from the bed, grabbed a shirt from the floor, and fled the room. He nearly ran into the doorframe as he pulled the vibrant orange fabric over his face. Harry just stared after him.

Ron stuck his head in a minute or two later, looking equal parts amused and horrified. 'Did I just see Malfoy run through the Common Room wearing a Chudley Cannons shirt?'

Harry could only nod. He hoped that Ron didn’t see his hands shaking. Or realise that it was his own shirt.

‘How the hell did he get in here?’ Ron sounded bemused.

“Marlow,’ Harry forced through the tightness in his throat. ‘He’s Marlow.’

Ron stared at him with wide eyes and mouth. ‘No shit.’ Ron looked out the door and then back at Harry. ‘I can’t believe I got on with Malfoy.’ He snorted a chuckle. ‘Only Malfoy would be improved by becoming a frog.’

Harry looked up and let the absurdity of the situation wash over him. He laughed, and if it sounded slightly deranged, Ron didn’t mention it.



* * *



Harry spent the rest of the weekend locked away in his room trying to make sense of the past week. He forced himself to ignore his body’s reaction to the memory of a naked Malfoy on his bed. He needed to think about why Malfoy had wheedled his way into Harry’s company. Was he up to something? Was he spying on Harry? Harry thought of all he had confided in Marlow—in Malfoy—and considered hiding in his room forever. Unfortunately, Monday came and classes forced him from the tower.

'Potter.'

Harry froze in the hallway, looking back to see a stern-looking Parkinson. He remembered that she had brought Malfoy-the-frog back to him and wondered if she'd been in on the scheme. He didn't speak, but he waited for her to catch up to him.

'Draco was Cursed.' She was glaring at him and he squirmed under the heat of it. 'I know you'll assume the worst of him, but he didn't want to be a frog trying to find his way back to the castle.'

Harry desperately wanted to believe that. 'What? How? Who?' he stammered.

'Rosemerta. There were hard feelings over sixth-year.' She looked away, clearly uncomfortable discussing that time.

'So she Cursed him?!'

'Don't get all high and Auror about it. The Frog Prince Curse was a popular way of settling feuds for centuries. Draco accepts it as fair punishment for using an Unforgivable. It certainly beats Azkaban.' She shrugged casually as if discussing a fine or detention.

'But . . . Why did it . . .'

'So articulate.' She smirked at him, but it didn't seem as vicious as it once had. 'Anyway, all it takes is a declaration of love and a kiss to break the curse. Voilà!'

Harry felt his cheeks burn. 'I meant I love him as a pet! It wasn't a declaration of—'

Parkinson waved him off. 'Curses don't care about semantics. In the old days, you'd be engaged now.'

Harry struggled to breath. 'What?'

‘Why do you think he changed back in that state of dress?’ She raised an eyebrow at him and he felt his cheeks flush at the image of Draco’s naked body.

He stood blinking at her as his mind struggled to process everything she had said. 'Wait. Why didn't you do it? Why did you bring him back to me?'

Parkinson gave him the same piercing look she'd given him that night: the one that tried to read his very soul. 'I thought he'd rather it be you.'

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Parkinson gave him a knowing smile and began to walk down the hall. 'Oh, and Potter?' She pause to glance back at him. 'Draco was never my boyfriend. He's gay.' With that she turned and strode away.



* * *



Harry made it to Potions only to notice there was no sign of Malfoy. Was it possible that Malfoy had been humiliated enough to actually leave Hogwarts, just as everyone had falsely believed before?

All weekend, Harry had been thinking about how embarrassing the whole thing had been for himself, not once considering how it had been for Malfoy. He was still staring at the door when Slughorn called for order, and was relieved to see Malfoy slip in with his textbook in hand. Not dropping out, then.

Slughorn instructed the class to add the peppermint to their Faveo Restituo, and Harry felt a sense of loss that Marlow wouldn’t be helping him. He risked a glance at Malfoy and saw him whispering with Theodore Nott. Harry tried to ignore his irritation. Focus on your work, he scolded himself.

He went to get the peppermint from the supply cabinet and noticed a jar of star anise. Marlow, no Malfoy, had recommended it, so Harry took the jar back to his table. He poured out a few of the star-shaped pods and wondered if he needed to remove the small seeds from the pod before adding them. Did they need to be ground? Malfoy would know, but did he dare ask him?

He turned and found Malfoy standing beside him staring at the anise on the table with wide eyes. Harry lifted the jar in a mockery of a toast. ‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘Do you want some for yours?’ Malfoy ignored the anise held out for him.

‘You’re following my advice?’

It hadn’t occurred to Harry not to. ‘Well, yeah. Of course. You’re brilliant at Potions.’

‘Oh.’ Malfoy turned to move away, but Harry grabbed his wrist. Huge silver eyes turned to meet his.

‘I’m sorry. That you were Cursed. Can we . . . talk?’ In that moment, Harry realised that he missed Malfoy—and not just the Potions advice—whatever form he came in. Malfoy nodded warily, so Harry glanced around the room. Everyone but Nott was absorbed in their work, and Nott was simply watching them with a bemused smile as he stirred his cauldron. Harry fought down his embarrassment and forced his focus back to Malfoy.

‘Listen, I know that we have a complicated history.’ Malfoy choked on a laugh. ‘The thing is, we got on fine for a week, right? I liked talking with you. Hell, Ron liked talking with you. Maybe some good can come of all this. Maybe this was to teach us . . .’ Harry sought for words that didn’t sound like they came from a children’s storybook. He failed. Instead, he stuck out his hand. Malfoy stared at it with nothing but surprise showing on his features. He looked up from Harry’s hand to his eyes but made no further movement.

‘Hi. I’m Harry.’ Malfoy’s eyebrows rose up into his fringe. Harry was about to pull his hand away when he saw Malfoy’s lips curve up into a wry smile. Slowly he extended his own hand and wrapped it around Harry’s. His fingers were long and cool as they firmly grasped Harry’s hand.

‘Draco. Charmed,’ he drawled. Harry couldn’t help but beam at him.



* * *



The next few months were passed in the building of their unlikely friendship. Draco continued playing chess with Ron, and Harry would let Pansy and Draco distract him from his studies with idle gossip. Draco talked him through Potions and Harry practised dueling with him in return. They’d even exchanged Christmas gifts before the holidays.

Late January found them sitting alone together on the floor of an empty classroom after an hour of N.E.W.T. level Charms practice. They’d been resting against the wall in silence for some time when Harry noticed the funny look on Draco’s face.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘About Marlow. Do you ever miss him?’

‘I did the first few days. But then I realised that he wasn’t gone at all.’ Harry smiled warmly at Draco.

‘But it was different, wasn’t it? You didn’t have history with Marlow. He hadn’t nearly killed anyone you loved.’

‘He was a frog, and the past is just that. It’s done. It doesn’t matter what nearly happened. It didn’t.’ He fixed Draco with a hard look, but Draco didn’t look convinced. It was as if he were jealous of his own frog self. It was ridiculous! ‘I like you better this way. I felt stupid confiding in a frog. One isn’t meant to be that fond of amphibians!’ That got a half smile.

‘You’re much nicer to look at than Marlow was.’

Draco huffed a laugh. ‘Well that’s high praise!’

Harry laughed, too. ‘You know you’re gorgeous. You don’t need me going on about how fit you are.’ His laugher petered out as he took in Draco’s opened-mouth stare. ‘What?’

‘You think I’m . . . gorgeous?’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you are. Don’t go fishing for compliments,’ he scolded.

Draco stared at his feet for a moment looking thoughtful. ‘You kissed Marlow,’ he whispered.

‘Yes. I did.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I liked him.’

Draco took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He had a determined looked when he met Harry’s eyes. ‘Do you like me?’

Harry smiled. ‘Very much. More than Marlow even.’ He scooted closer. ‘Marlow was only ever kissed on the head. I didn’t want to imagine what frog-mouth might feel like.’

‘Oh really?’ There was challenge in Draco’s tone. Harry ran the pad of his thumb along Draco’s lower lip and watched as his eyes fell shut.

‘Yeah,’ Harry whispered. ‘He didn’t have soft pink lips.’ He felt himself blush at his own words, but he was determined to see where things might lead. Leaning forward, Harry gently placed his lips against Draco’s. His heart ceased to beat for the moment between when their lips touched and when he felt Draco press forward against him. It was with a gasp of relief that he opened his mouth to Draco’s tongue.

They kissed languidly for long moments as Harry learned the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue, lips, and teeth. They slowed to chaste kisses and then rested their foreheads together. ‘What else do I have that Marlow didn’t?’

Harry gave him a wry smile. ‘You're really jealous of a frog?’

‘No,’ Draco said with a haughty shrug. ‘I just like hearing how great I am.’ Harry laughed.

‘Fine, you prat.’ He ran his hands through Draco fine hair. ‘I like your hair: how it looks and how it feels. I’m glad you don’t put all that gunk in it anymore.’ He ran his fingers through again to emphasise his point. He ran one hand down Draco’s neck. ‘I like your neck. It’s long and delicate and makes you look all posh. And then it comes down to this bone.’ He traced a finger along Draco’s clavicle.

He unbuttoned the front of Draco’s white shirt and pulled it back off his shoulders. ‘I love your shoulders. The rest of you is so skinny, but your shoulders are broad and strong.’

‘I am not skinny! I am slender’, Draco snapped. Harry shrugged. ‘And I have muscular arms, I’ll have you know.’ He pulled his shirt off completely and flexed his biceps. The lean muscle bulged enticingly, but the image of Draco Malfoy flexing in a show of physical prowess was comical. The closest the man had ever come to physical labour was carrying his textbooks up and down the castle’s many stairways.

‘Do you want to hear this or not?’ Harry scolded. Draco shut his mouth with an adorable little pout. ‘Now, where was I?’ Harry placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders and let them travel down his chest. ‘You are so pale,’ he whispered. ‘You look ethereal.’

‘Do you even know what that means?’ Harry nipped Draco’s shoulder with his teeth. Draco cried out and mumbled something that sounded like, ‘brute’. Harry kissed the red mark he’d created and then worked his way up Draco’s neck. There was so much skin to discover and enjoy. He shifted onto his knees and pulled Draco towards him along the wall. Draco bared his neck to him with a contented sigh.

They fumbled about kissing and touching until the sun set outside and the room grew dark and cold. They pulled their clothing back on against the draught but remained seated on the floor. Although Harry’s arse was numb from sitting on the cold, hard floor, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

‘I couldn’t believe it when you told Marlow you liked men,’ Draco murmured against his neck.

‘It had taken me long enough to figure out.’ Harry thought about his own obtuseness and enjoyed a hearty laugh at his own expense. ‘But trust me, it was easier to accept that than to realise I fancied a frog!’

Draco sat up and Harry saw his curled lip. ‘You fancied a frog? Pervert.’ Harry would have been upset if not for the mirth dancing in Draco’s eyes. He shoved him instead.

‘I didn’t want to have sex with a frog! I just . . . I was confused, okay?’ He wrapped his arm around Draco and smiled as he felt hair and breath tickle his neck once more. ‘I’m glad you’re not a frog anymore, but I am glad you were turned into one for a while.’

Draco went rigid and Harry prepared himself for a caustic retort. Instead, Draco let out a sigh that relaxed his whole body. ‘I’m glad, too.’ He sat up and smiled at Harry. He ran his long fingers through Harry’s hair and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

Cuddled together with Draco on the cold floor of an empty classroom with no greater concern than their upcoming N.E.W.T.s, Harry could believe in happily-ever-after.




~ fin ~