Harry went to Charms early. It was one of the classes all the eighth years took together and Harry was fairly certain Pansy and Blaise usually sat together while Draco sat alone in the back corner. So, all he had to do was wait and then once Draco came in, he could follow him to whatever desk he choose and sit with him. Then, if Draco didn't automatically hex him, they could talk a bit. And if that went well, he could do it again and once they were on friendly terms he could... ask him out?

Harry leaned back against the wall near the door, squeezing the strap of his bag tighter as he thought. Maybe he'd get lucky and Draco'd be pleased about the kiss too, then he could just skip straight to asking him out. He shook his head slightly, even then they needed to talk about things. Draco had been better since the war but that didn't make everything that had happened before disappear.

He forced himself to pay more attention as students started coming in, looking for a white blond head. As the seats began to fill, Pansy and Blaise came in, Draco just behind, his nose buried in a book. Harry practically held his breath as he followed the trio up the risers. Second to last row in the back Pansy and Blaise dropped into a pair of seats, they were talking together in low whispers, a notepad full of scribbled notes between them. Draco went another row back and then walked down to the very last desk in the corner. He sat in the closest seat, so Harry couldn't very well sit next to him without trying to slip past and his plan was already so far past the point of believability he didn't dare. Maybe after a few chats.

Harry paused, so it wouldn't be quite so obvious he had been following Draco and to gather his nerve. He glanced back at the other desks, only Ron and Hermione were watching him from a shared desk in the front row. Hermione nodded slightly and Ron gave him a surreptitious thumbs up.

He decided to stop thinking about it and just went, sitting in the desk and chair closest to Draco, so only the narrow aisle separated them. Draco eyebrow twitched, his mouth tightened slightly but he didn't look up.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" Harry asked watching Draco's expression closely.

Draco's expression didn't change but his shoulders tensed, "It's fine," he said shortly.

Harry pulled his bag onto his lap, looking for his book and setting it on his desk, quickly followed by a scrap of parchment for notes and a pen. Once that was out of the way, he went back to watching Draco.

Draco carefully removed his own things from his bag and set them up so neatly Harry thought he might be able to place a ruler between them all. He went back to reading his book, a furrow between his brow deepening as he stared at the page, eyes unmoving. He shifted his weight uneasily, leaning even closer to his book so his hair slipped down over his forehead.

Draco sat up with a huff, briskly pushing his hair back and turned in his seat so he was directly facing Harry, "What do you want, Potter?"

"To talk," Harry said and then quickly added, "to you."

Draco's mouth twitched down. He shot a nervous glance down at Pansy and Blaise just below, dropping his voice to hiss, "It wasn't my idea and I have nothing to do with it at all. Nothing, understand?"

Harry's brow furrowed and he was about to ask Draco what he meant when Professor Flitwick came in and started his lecture. The question gnawed at Harry through the whole lecture so he wasn't even sure what it was about when class let out. Not that he got to ask when class let out because Malfoy scooped everything into his bag and rushed out the door like he had a dementor at his heel, leaving Harry more confused than ever.

"What do you suppose Malfoy meant?" Ron asked fighting back a yawn as they headed down to breakfast.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know."

Hermione pulled open her bag as they walked, fishing inside the unfathomable depths to retrieve a rather daunting medical text, "Did you try asking him?"

"Would have if he hadn't avoided me like the plague," Harry said grumpily, "I just-" he frowned.

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded towards the doors to the great hall from which loud shouts and chatter spilled out. Harry started to hang back and Ron fell back with him so Hermione peered around the doorframe. She frowned and looked up, stepping further into the room. An owl that had been perched in the rafters swooped down and dropped a folded Prophet to her. With paper in hand, she stepped back into the hall.

"The Prophet?" Ron asked.

Hermione quickly unrolled it, "They're all reading it."

"Not the Prophet," Harry bemoaned, already anticipating the worst.

The main headline was: Exclusive! A Real Life Fairy-Story?!, the header below that: Harry Potter Can't Kiss! The Amazing Story of the Princess and the Priestess Come to Life! The story was full of interviews with people Harry had tried to kiss, along with the complete retelling of the fairytale and some light conjecture by the reporter P.P. In addition to two photos of Harry and an illustration from a children's book, the whole thing took up the entire front page of the paper.

"Rough luck, mate," Ron said grimly.

Hermione gave him a conciliatory look, "It's amazing it took this long for someone to work it out really, with the number of people you've tried to kiss."

"Thanks that really helps," Harry said sarcastically.

Hermione made a face at him and went on pointedly, "And it wasn't written by Skeeter, she would have blown it entirely out of proportion. This is fairly accurate and pretty well written really, for the Prophet anyway. I wonder if this P.P. is a new reporter."

"Pansy Parkinson," Harry said flatly.

"Her? Really?" Ron asked, leaning on Harry's shoulder to get a better look.

Harry nodded, remembering the pointed look she had shared with Blaise after trying to kiss him and the two of them with their notebook in Charms yesterday, probably working out the article together.

As if summoned, Pansy's excited giggle proceeded her through the doorway with Blaise by her side. It took the two of them a while to realize they were being stared at and by whom but once they did they froze.

"You wrote this?" Harry pointed to the newspaper.

Pansy tried to surreptitiously shift the paper she was holding slightly further back and behind her leg, "Where in the world would you get an idea like that?"

"The party," Harry ticked off on his fingers, "The two of you working on it in Charms, the initials."

Blaise smirked, leaning over Pansy's shoulder in an almost exact mirror of Ron, "So?"

Harry wasn't certain on that account.

Pansy shrugged Blaise off in annoyance, "Get off, you," she turned back to Harry with a sniff and absentmindedly straightened her hair, "It's not like I said anything that wasn't true."

"It's much better than Skeeter's work," Hermione said.

Pansy positively beamed, "Isn't though? It's about time that gossipy shrew was kicked off the front page."

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron thoughtfully and then back to Pansy, "Are you going to keep writing for them? The Prophet?"

"Two more lead stories and they've promised me a permanent position," Pansy said.

Hermione looked at Harry pointedly, raising her eyebrows, "She's better than Skeeter."

"Oh," Harry said as he caught on and looked at Pansy.

Pansy looked at him and Hermione warily, "What?"

"Well..." Harry said carefully, "If you keep writing things, truthful things... I might be more willing to talk to you than other reporters."

Pansy smiled excitedly, "Really?! Really really?!"

Harry nodded, wondering if he would come to regret this.

Pansy grabbed Blaise's arm, bouncing excitedly on her toes, "Can you believe it!" she crowed, then turned to Harry, "When could I-? Not now, of course. Next week maybe? For an interview. Or whenever, but before we finish school or so help me I'll-"

Blaise careful placed his hand over her mouth, "You'll be very very grateful for this opportunity," He pulled his hand away, "Now smile and wish the nice people a good day."

Pansy smacked Blaise's hand before he could pull it back. He clutched his hand to his chest with a wince.

Pansy smiled beatifically at Harry, "Thank you so much, Mr Potter. I shall speak with you later!" She waved and they made their way down the hall.

"Did I just agree to help Pansy Parkinson become a reporter for the newspaper I loathe with every fibre of my being?" Harry asked vaguely.

"It was the best outcome really," Hermione said. She added vehemently, "Especially, if Skeeter never works again."

"That's my girl," Ron said brightly, slinging an arm over both their shoulders, "Now if I don't get to breakfast I'm going to die of starvation."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're not going to starve to death, Ron. Harry, do you want to go in? Maybe we should go to the kitchens, just until this dies down a bit."

Harry thought about it and sighed, "I want to get it over with really."

"Alright then!" Ron said steering them through the doors.

The initial noise in the great hall had died down somewhat since they'd stopped outside and once they entered, it died entirely, until you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was staring at Harry.

The one to break the silence ended up being Ginny, who shot off her bench and marched over to Harry with the Prophet in hand, "Is this true?"

A hiss of whispers filled the hall.

Ron said, "Gin, this isn't really a good time-"

Ginny ignored her brother entirely, "I need to know! Why didn't you tell me? You could have just said, I'd understand! I thought-" her voice cracked, edged with tears that she furiously pushed through, clenching her jaw and shaking her head, "I thought it was something wrong with me." she said quietly.

Harry stepped closer to her, dropping his voice so no one could overhear, "I just figured it out myself. Raised by muggles, remember? There's nothing wrong with you, Ginny, you're perfect."

"Damn right I am," Ginny sniffed, roughly wiping her eyes.

"It's me that's got the worst luck, as per usual," Harry said ruefully.

Ginny smiled faintly and punched Harry in the shoulder, a little harder than was friendly, "Well, good luck, Princess."

Harry winced and frowned, "Why have I always got to be the princess? Can't I be the priestess?"

"Princess fits better," Ginny said with a shrug, going back to her seat.

Ron headed down the table to an empty space and Harry and Hermione followed. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry was aware that around the room people were popping up in ones and two. He hoped they were just trying to get a better look, but a Hufflepuff girl broke that illusion by standing and marching over to him before he had even managed to sit down.

Her whole face went red as she said, a little too loudly in her nervousness, "M-May I kiss you!?"

She clenched her hands together in front of her, looking desperately hopeful and all of fourteen if that. The other students who had stood up began rushing over, forming a line behind her.

Harry's eyes widened and he took a step back, "I don't-" he looked around for support and then up at the teacher's table. Headmistress McGonagall had risen to her feet, she caught Harry's eyes briefly and gave him a slight nod.

There was a brief clap of noise followed by a deep magic-induced silence, "Return to your tables," she paused briefly and when no one had moved added sternly, "Now, if you please."

The line broke up and hurried back to their seats. Harry quickly sat down as well.

McGonagall paused again to sweep the room with a disapproving look, "This is not a fairy-story. You will all leave Mr Potter alone. He is not to be harassed, pressured or otherwise ambushed in order to violate his personal boundaries. There will be ramifications if anyone tries." She narrowed her eyes and said in a low voice, "I hope that's understood." She took the following silence as agreement and nodded sharply, returning to her seat.

Harry loaded up his plate with a sigh.

Across from him, Seamus pulled out a notebook, flipping it open to a blank page, "Right so, let's start off the betting with how long it takes for the first plonker to jump our boy Harry. Any takers?"

A few hands went up. Dean pulled out a handful of sickles, "Eight sickles on an hour."

"Two sickles on ten minutes," Ginny said with a grin, tossing her coins into the pile.

Seamus grinned and cast a tempus charm to start a counter, "Any other takers!?"

Harry groaned and ducked his head as he ate.

Once all the takers on that were up, Seamus set up a betting pool on how long it would take for someone to get detention, how long it would take before Harry was assigned a personal guard, and who would be his Priestess.

The first betting pool went to a perfect guess of twenty-six minutes when a sixth year Ravenclaw boy rushed Harry and bounced off Harry's magical signature like a ping pong ball and whacked his head on the floor, knocking himself out.

Luna won eleven galleons and five sickles.