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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice	By : Neverwood Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anal, Angst, Fingering, H/C, HJ, M/M, Oral, Rim, Solo, Spank. I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I do not recieve money for this in any way. For entertainment purposes only.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's Note: Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. All disclaimers still apply. I may not be able to update once a week for a while since things have gotten busy, but I'm going to do my best. We'll see how it goes.

Chapter 6: Another Favor

Harry awoke with a horrible crick in his neck and a hell of a hangover. He groaned as he reluctantly sat upright, his body protesting any and all movement. He heard a rattling noise, which had no doubt been what had woken him up. He got up, groaning to himself as he made his way to the window, through which he could see an overeager owl literally trying to break in. He opened the window, and the owl flounced down as if it owned the place. It held the letter out in its foot, and Harry could swear it was looking down its beak in superiority. Knowing that owls' personalities often matched their owners, he wondered if perhaps one of Draco's parents had figured out a way to contact their son. But then he saw that the proferred envelope had his name written on it in flowing script. He took the letter, and the owl strutted past him before flying back out the window. Harry shook his head, then winced as it made his headache flare. He heard Draco emerge from his bedroom, and set the letter aside for now. Harry debated on how to handle seeing Draco after the events of last night. What would he say, if he said anything at all?

Draco came down the stairs looking as regal and put-together as always. He paused for half of a second when he saw Harry watching him, but otherwise gave no reaction. Harry stood silently and watched as Draco went into the kitchen and had the enchanted kitchen items begin making eggs and toast, forgoing the bacon they usually had with it. Harry's roiling stomach was grateful for that. He re-entered the dining room, pausing when he debated over how close to sit to Draco. Draco, seeing Harry's indecisiveness, raised one brow.

“You are allowed to sit down.” Draco said, indicating the chair directly on his left side. “It is your house, after all.”

Harry muttered to himself, too tired and achy to make a proper retort. He winced as one of the pans clanked against the stove, and was surprised as Draco cast a wandless Muffliato at the kitchen in response. Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“Thank you.” He said, and was horrified as his voice sounded horrible. He remembered one time when Dudley had been sick, and Aunt Petunia had said he sounded like he had a frog in his throat. He had sounded a lot like Harry did now.

“You're welcome.” Draco said, looking at Harry with narrow precision. “You haven't taken any medicine, have you?”

Harry shook his head, and Draco sighed. He summoned a bottle of Rosemary Meade from his room, along with a cup from the kitchen. He poured Harry a good amount before sending the bottle back where it had come. Harry pushed the glass away.

“Malfoy, the last thing I want right now is alcohol.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Hair of the dog, Hero. Works every time.”

Harry's eyebrows shot up. “There's dog hair in this?!”

Draco sighed as if it were a great burden to have to educate him. “Hair of the dog is a crass Muggle phrase. If you have a hangover, a small dose of alcohol should help it. It's basic knowledge, Potter, honestly.”

Harry tentatively brought the cup to his lips and drank. For several minutes nothing happened, and he was prepared to accuse Malfoy of duping him when the dragon claws holding his head hostage (or so it felt) lessened a bit. He sighed as the tension he'd been holding in his upper body flowed out in meager increments, and he relaxed bit by bit. Although it certainly didn't make him completely better, it took the edge off. He opened his mouth to thank Malfoy again, but stopped as Malfoy waved a letter at him. It was the one Harry had received just this morning.

“If you were trying to hide this,” Draco said drolly, “you did a piss-poor job of it.”

“I wasn't.” Harry said, and reached for the letter. Draco casually switched it to his other hand, moving it out of reach.

“Good.” Draco said. Before Harry could ask for his letter, Draco opened it and began to read it aloud.

“Dear Mr. Potter,
We are glad to inform you that you are cordially invited to attend the coronation of the new Minister of Magic. It will be held in the Main Hall of the London offices of the Ministry of Magic and will begin at two p.m. sharp. Please be respectful and arrive promptly.

Ignatius Dingleberry,
Minister of Magic.”

Draco snorted before summoning the dishes to serve their breakfast. “Some Minister he's going to be.”

Harry took the letter out of Draco's hand, ignoring the bursts of ice in his eyes that the move prompted. “So do you know him?”

Draco shook his head. “No, not at all. But I can already tell he's not a good choice.”

Harry looked at the letter while he ate his eggs, which were prepared just the way he liked them. “How can you tell?”

Draco's voice took on a tone he used when he felt he was educating someone, and although Harry would never say so out loud, he thought that if it weren't so pompous he would sound just like Hermione. “He calls it a coronation, which isn't even close to the real thing. He specifically says to arrive promptly, but everyone who's anyone knows that you arrive to a proper function ten to fifteen minutes late, since the actual event doesn't start till about thirty minutes after its set time. And, worst of all, he is already claiming a title he hasn't been given yet. That's three strikes, Potter.”

Harry took all the information in, assimilating it into what little he knew of Wizarding politics. He could see how having Draco around could definitely be useful, since he himself was so completely ignorant of such things. He didn't notice how he stared at Draco while these thoughts went through his mind, but Draco did.

“Stop staring at me.”

Harry blinked. Although the man hadn't shouted, his voice was very insistent. Harry felt a faint blush as he looked away, embarrassed. He had been watching Draco eat with more than casual interest, even if his thoughts had been elsewhere. The quiet intensity the blonde had in everything he did was distracting, but his distraction called up the events of last night from the back of his mind where he had shoved them to. He pushed them back, not wanting to ever think about that again.

They ate quietly, not speaking to each other like they normally would. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Harry, giving into the fact that the incident would not leave his mind until he had dealt with it, analyzed what he could remember. His actions, and reactions, were not something he could easily reconcile with how he saw himself. He was absolutely certain that, last night notwithstanding, he was absolutely straight. He had enjoyed what little (very little) he had done with Ginny, and had even been disappointed when she had chosen Neville over him after the final battle. He'd also been very attracted to Cho Chang, and had liked what little they had done. Satisfied that last night had been a drunken fluke, he let the memories fade into background noise.

Draco stood up, sending his dishes to the kitchen to clean themselves. He gave Harry a cursory glance before turning away. “Do remember to wear a suit and not those tacky jeans, would you?” He said, somehow turning a disparaging comment into a form of farewell. Harry's mind decided to let Draco go to his room and to spend the day doing whatever he needed to do to stop noticing Draco in that way. His mouth, however, had other ideas.

“Why don't you come with me?”

He wasn't sure who was more shocked at his suggestion, Draco or himself.

“I've never been any good at politics. You could help me.”

Draco's eyes narrowed, and Harry could see the Slytherin side of him emerging. “And what would I get out of this?”

Harry swallowed hard. “A day in my company?”

Draco sneered and went to walk away. “Pass.”

“Wait!” Harry said, his mouth betraying him yet again. And although he knew it was very, very bad idea, he asked anyway. “What do you want, Draco?”

Harry saw Draco's face tighten with a certain kind of tension and his pupils expand suddenly, and wondered at the odd reaction. Then his features became passive once more as he brought his finger to rest against his lips in a thoughtful and, to Harry, vaguely worrying pose.

“You have an open favor from me.” He said consideringly.

“Would you like me to take it?” Harry said.

Draco shook his head. “No. I'll allow you to save it. Instead,” he said significantly, “I would like an open favor from you.”

Harry felt uneasy. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

Draco grinned, which caused the butterflies in Harry's stomach to take flight and his palms to lightly sweat. “I mean, that sometime in the future I will ask something of you. And you have to give it to me, no matter what it is.”

Harry had a bad feeling about this, but couldn't see a way out of it without looking like he was backing down from Draco. Which he most certainly was not.

“Fine.” Harry said. He was a little surprised when Draco offered his hand to shake. Memories of their first year again flooded his mind, but he ignored them as well as his growing sense of foreboding. He took Draco's hand and shook it. He gasped quietly as the same static electricity he had felt last night rushed up his arm like a delicious current, and took his arm back a little hastily. If Draco noticed his reaction, he gave no indication. He simply gave Harry a regal nod before retreating upstairs. Harry went upstairs, and felt both fear and arousal grow in him as he wondered what Draco had planned for him.
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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice