Harry

                                        

                                              
Harry
                              
Harry woke up naked and content. The sheets were smoother and silkier than he could have ever imagined. His eyes opened as he realized there was an arm across his body that wasn't his. Harry blinked and started to notice other things, too. Namely, a pounding headache from whatever foul concoction Seamus had made last night at the party. But he also felt sore. His muscles stretched and tight like he had never used them in that way before. Being naked was a clue as to why.
                              
Horrified, he realized that his ass hurt and the arm around him was larger... not a girl. He had thought about what it'd be like to have sex with a guy, sure, but he was in an on-and-off relationship with Ginny. He was next to her last night when he drank that potion. That Anti-Inhibitions Potion that Seamus said would remove mental barriers, give the drinker truth and let their reservations go. He thought that meant that he would be able to finally go all the way with Ginny. 
                              
Something had always held him back. First, it was the war and then dealing with those they lost. This eighth year was supposed to bring closure as well as heal, but it still was held. He loved Ginny, but just couldn't get into the mood. That wasn't going to happen, now. If Ginny didn't kill him, he would end the relationship. Despite the hangover, he wasn't upset that he wasn't with Ginny. It was over, and there was no point to keep drawing it out.
                              
He brought his hand up to rub his eyes and jostled his sleeping partner, who groaned. Harry figured he'd let whoever it was, get their bearings. All the eighth years, Hermione included, drank that potion last night, in the inter-house unity party that Parkinson and Hermione had setup. Even the Slytherins came down, who generally avoided group activities and the eighth-year common room.
                              
Harry couldn't blame them. There had been a few attacks toward them since school started, but Harry stomped out those idiots soon enough. This year wasn't about that. It was about undoing all the damage Voldemort had done over the years, and he was determined that the Slytherins just needed a chance to live free of his tyranny to join the rest of them. But he hadn't had much success.
                              
Zabini was the most cordial of the Slytherins and had been hitting on Ron all night before they drank that stupid potion. Nott seemed to be his partner in crime, as they were inseparable. Harry wondered idly if they were together, but no one really wanted to talk about it. He was starting to get worried about who it was. What if they told someone? Or hated him? Or... fuck... his head hurt... like he needed a Hangover Potion.
                              
A few flashes of last night came through, but Seamus said that they would need a Remembrall Potion, to get their memories back. If they wanted them back, and it would be waiting for them in the common room, when the Inhibitions Potion wore off.
                              
"Fuck," he heard his lover groan roughly. Definitely not a girl, but he couldn't tell who it was. 
                              
His glasses were... who the fuck knows where. The room setup wasn't one he'd been in. All the eighth-years had single or double rooms in a new private building set off from the main castle. Ginny, Luna and a few other seventh years moved in, too. McGonagall was surprisingly lax in her rules. Something about getting over the war and becoming adults. 
                              
Harry really wanted to go back to sleep and pretend this didn't happen. He could picture the headlines now. The Hero of War turned Gay!
                              
He felt the arms pull away as the guy sat up. "Potter? Oh, fucking hell," his lover gasped.
                              
There was only one person who still called him Potter. He turned and squinted to see the red, horrified face of Draco Malfoy. His left arm ran through his short blonde hair, and Harry could just see the faded Dark Mark.
                              
"Shit."