Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Muggle Technology and Heroism	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6912 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The long floor length mirror made him look shorter than he was. Or maybe it was the dark heather gray three piece suit, pinned up at the ankles by tiny needles and folded in on the side by more of the poky things with minuscule red rounded heads that the tailor had somehow managed not to stick him with as Harry stood as still as he possibly could atop the platform. These places always managed to make him feel like a little kid again, someone too small to be standing on the pedestal, uncertain what to do with his hands and unable to keep his legs from jiggling no matter how hard the tailor glared at him. He was (finally, blissfully, thank god he was no longer having to listen to that little man mutter under his breath) alone now, staring at his reflection and carding a hand through his unmanageable hair, a smile he couldn't contain on his lips.

It had been a wonderful day.

After Harry had gotten a cup of coffee and some fresh air into Draco, the blonde had calmed down considerably, putting out of his mind for the time being the thought of his shop and his incompetent apprentice. They had spent over an hour picking out their new stereo, Draco demanding to test each and every one out with large headphones pressed snugly against his ears as he fiddled with knobs and dials and buttons - his eyes wide and bulging as he stepped into a booth that demonstrated home theater systems. Harry was pleased with the one they had struck a compromise on and he managed to place the order for it with Draco only sneaking in four little extras that they didn't need.

Though he looked cute in the massive headphones, so Harry really couldn't complain.

Then they had walked through the bustling street, sipping on coffee and debating the merits of trying to fit in a movie at the cinema before it got too late. Somehow though they had ended up here instead, Draco insisting that they needed to get Harry a proper suit for Pansy's costume party that was coming up much too fast and wasn't it fortunate that the man needed to pick up his suit from the tailors just down the way?

Yet to be honest, even after all the fuss and measuring and pinning, Harry didn't think he looked anything like James Bond, the conclusion only solidified as he twisted and looked over himself once more. It was the hair, his fucking crazy hair. Bond would never have such wild curls and Harry doubted that Draco would be able to tame it no matter how much hair gel they used.

"Fuck." He cursed, jumping a little as the heavy curtain was whisked suddenly aside.

"Don't jump like that, you'll skewer yourself." Draco chided as he stepped inside the closed off space and let the curtain swing shut behind him. He was adorned in a midnight black suit - black slacks, black shirt, black vest, black jacket, black tie, black shoes - the cut tailored perfectly to fit the curve of his willowy frame and strikingly offsetting the frosty color of his skin and glow of his hair. He looked, well, fucking incredible.

Harry swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up to meet the other mans as he came to a stop before him. "All black? Isn't that a touch cliché?" He smirked as he raised an eyebrow and told his pulse not to race.

"No." Draco smiled, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets effortlessly. "It’s classic."

"If you're going for classic villain then you need to fake a massive scar that runs up the length of your face."

"See now, that's cliché." Draco corrected, his eyes traveling down the length of Harry's body and making him want to fidget. "You look nice."

"Yeah?" He blushed and toyed with the cuff of the jacket. "Still don't see why I need to purchase it though, it's just for one night. Could have just transfigured something."

Shaking his head, Draco reached out with his pale hands to grasp Harry's tie, straightening the fabric that he was pretty sure was already perfect. "You look hot Harry, trust me, you want to own this suit." Tipping his head, Draco watched his own fingers working over the expertly tied knot, his brow furrowing so very lightly in thought. It was a look that had been creeping across the man's face all day, in quiet moments when the blonde didn't think Harry was looking, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth for a moment only to be released a second later, red and indented and wet.

It made the usually reserved, indifferent man look troubled, made him seem exposed in an unsettling sort of way.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly, half expecting for Draco to smirk, smack him lightly on the cheek, and crack some demented joke at Harry's expense.

But the man didn't do any of those things, he only remained oddly quiet as he fingered the knot of Harry's tie before darting his gaze up for a split second to meet Harry's. "Why did you bring me lunch today?"

The question caught him off guard, leaving him blinking dumbly for a moment as he processed the words and tried to formulate a response. "I wanted to." Harry bit his tongue and watched the line carve itself deeper into Draco's forehead, the space that had felt so large only moments ago now small and too warm - excuses he was accustomed to making almost falling from his lips without a thought. But the point of this whole five step plan wasn't to only further lie, it wasn't to further bury his feelings, and his throat felt tight as he forced the next words off his stinging tongue. "I guess...it feels like I haven't seen you much lately. You didn't like it?"

Draco glanced up at him through his yellow lashes, his palm dropping down as his fingers skidded over the swell of the knot and onto the slick fabric laying neatly against his chest. "No, I did, and your timely appearance may have saved you from having to arrest me as well as giving Stephen the prestigious opportunity to join the chosen many who have been personally rescued by the famed Boy Who Lived."

"Ugh, don't call me that, you know I hate it."

"Don't like being reminded of the heroic infant you were?" Draco chuckled and looked back down at the tie under his hand. "So, you have your date with Formally From Archives tonight?"

"Craig? His name is Craig and yeah, I do." Harry hadn't wanted to agree to a second date, let alone attend it, because while he liked the man he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong, that he was leading him on. But Hermione had talked him into it and Harry had begrudgingly agreed.

"What time?"

"Eight."

Draco was doing that slow nodding thing again, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, as Harry desperately tried to figure out what was going on inside his head. But then he just opened his mouth and told him, right there, in the tailors in the middle of the day without any notice or preamble and shocking Harry to his core with the unfounded honesty of the moment. "Ethan want's a commitment." He said quietly, still staring at Harry's tie like it was the most fascinating thing in the entire world. "He wants to just pick right back up from where we left off, like the past few years never happened, like nothing’s changed."

Harry blinked and swallowed, the sudden shift of topic throwing him off kilter because fuck, it wasn't even dark out and Harry hadn't even specifically asked and Draco never brought these kinds of things up and maybe it was all those reasons, rolled up into one neat ball that was suffocating him with the thought that this could very well be the end before they even had a beginning. "Has anything changed?" He whispered, his voice unable to go any higher.

Shaking his head, Draco finally looked up at him, their eyes locking as he stared silently at him for the beat of several moments, in which Harry found he couldn't breathe or think or move. He was caught, his world hinging on the next words out of the other man's mouth.

"Has it?" He pressed when Draco remained silent, his fingers lifting on their own to curl along the hem of the man’s black jacket, his tongue wetting his lips and his gaze moving to keep a hold of his fliting dark gray eyes. "Draco...has anything changed?" He sounded desperate, he knew it, but he couldn't help it because Merlin, he was desperate.

Letting go and stepping back, Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, his hands slipping back into his pockets as Harry's fingers were forced to release their hold.

"Do you even know?" Harry asked, his hand running sharply through his hair and a pin poking him in his side from the jerky movement. "I mean fuck, Draco, do you? You keep saying that you don't want to settle down, that you don't do that, but you're thinking about it aren't you? You...do you love him?" Something was squeezing his chest painfully, his words harsher then he meant for them to be, spilling off his tongue in a rush of fear.

Panic. That's what was crushing him from the inside. An overwhelming panic.

Draco shrugged and Harry wanted to yank on his hair and scream, because the man wasn't saying anything, he was just standing there - telling Harry that his dreams could very well be shattered and not even...fuck, not even realizing it.

"You don't know...right. Did you? Back then, before he left?"

"I thought I might." Draco finally answered softly after a long lengthy pause, his gaze flickering briefly up to Harry's. "I thought I did, for a while, at least...I don't know."

"Draco, just, it's easy." Harry took a step forward and faltered, his hand dropping to grip the back of his neck and the needles stabbing him once more. "Do you want him more than anything? Do you think about him all the time? Do you want to fall asleep with him every night and fight over not watching James Bond for the millionth time?" He could go on, he could ask if Draco wanted to buy a house with him, if he wanted to have a restaurant that was theirs, could he see himself bonding himself to him sometime down the road? Did he think about slipping a ring on his finger? Did he already know what it would look like?

"It's not that straightforward." Draco countered, his voice defensive and body half turned towards the exit.

"It is, actually. Because if you'd rather be in the clubs, kissing someone else, anyone else, then it's not love and you shouldn't be with him."

Draco glowered and crossed his arms over his black chest. "What about passion then? Does that not count for anything?"

"Is that what you guys have? Is that why you slept in my bed last week instead of with him?"

"That's none of your fucking business." Draco spat, his heel pivoting to leave.

Harry's arm shot out and latched onto his before he could reach the curtain, his blood pumping hot through his veins and demanding he see this through, that he not let this matter drop. Otherwise he feared Draco might just settle, might just fall back into a relationship he was used to instead of facing the fact that maybe things had changed. He couldn't let him leave until he saw - finally saw what Harry felt. "Why do you do this? You're such a nutter when it comes to picking out anything, your clothes, your electronics, your food, but not this. You just sleep with whoever, you don't even fucking care about them! Why do you settle? Why don't you fight for what you want?"

Draco's face fell shut, a hard unfeeling sharpness overtaking the vulnerability that had been there just moments ago. "Just leave it the hell alone."

"You brought this up." Harry pointed out, his heart beating wildly and his breath pushing fast in and out of his lungs. "And you can't keep stringing him along if you don't want to be with him like he wants. You have to decide. You -"

"Fuck off Harry." Draco snarled, jerking his arm free and striding from the room without a backwards glance.

Harry was halfway through the curtain before he heard the gentle pop of disapparation and he came to a jerking halt, his eyes slipping closed as he breathed deep and tried to tell himself that the moister pricking at his eyelids wasn't really there. But his heart was sinking in his chest, drowning inside him as Harry shook his head and tried to tell himself that he hadn't just fucked everything up beyond repair.

****

The sun was dipping low in the sky when the wheels of Harry's car slowed to a crawl on the isolated gravel drive. He squinted in the gray light as he turned the key and quieted the engine, a nervous flutter taking up residence with a renewed vigor in his stomach. Slipping from the driver’s seat, he glanced all around himself, taking in the beauty of the sprawling grounds with long waving grass and grand oak trees casting lumbering shadows. There was nothing else in sight, no homes, no buildings of any sort, no other people with the air itself holding its own secret melody - a soft trickle of music, a comforting crispness that burned cold in the lungs but left a smile on your lips anyway.

Harry had only been to this particular piece of land a handful of times over the last several years and he honestly didn't know how many people even knew about it. It wasn't something Draco discussed with most of his friends, it was something he rarely even spoke of with Harry. He could still remember the first time Draco had ever ridden in his car with him, the blondes pale hands grasping the dashboard tightly and a look of horror that soon melted to curious fascination and awe on his face. Halfway through the impromptu joyride he had given Harry rough, near impossible to follow directions (due to the fact that Draco had no idea about motor vehicles and their need for proper roads) that lead them here.

There had been on odd sort of smile on the man's face as they exited the car and Draco led him through the meadow quietly before stopping suddenly and weaving a picture of the house that he planned to have built right where they were standing. The description had been so vivid, so detailed that Harry could practically see it springing to life around him, engulfing him in the imagery. But it was the look on Draco's face that Harry most remembered. It had been a peaceful look, a restful expression, a look that made Harry realize that not until that moment had he ever seen the man look so unburdened. So light. So happy.

But that was years ago and Draco still hadn't made any moves to actually start building on his piece of land tucked away from the hustle of the city. No, instead he just kept jumping from flat to flat, from flatmate to flatmate.

Buttoning up his thick wool jacket, Harry made his way slowly through the grass and towards the spot where he could remember Draco's imaginary home stood. He couldn't seem to stop fidgeting with every step he took, the scarf around his neck tightening as his fingers pulled, and his hair sticking up as he combed through the locks. There was a desperate sort of urgency urging him on, demanding he track down his flatmate and not let the sun set completely with their argument unsettled.

Draco hadn't come home after the incident at the tailors and neither had he returned to his shop. Harry had spent the remainder of the dwindling afternoon and early evening pacing their flat, rehearsing the things he wanted to say in his head, and jumping at every little noise. He couldn't stop thinking about their fight, about the things that had been said. About the things that hadn't. About the miles of words unspoken between the two for so very long now.

Somewhere between hour two and four of waiting around for his return Harry had stopped and stared at Draco's closed door, remembering night after night, men after men, names and faces all forgotten by the next morning. The drunken stumbling at three a.m., the kisses against walls Draco was careful to only ever do after Harry had gone to bed, the yanking him awake early the next morning because the toaster was dark, or the kettle was whistling evilly, or the burners on the hob had taken on a concerning angry red, or the light in the fridge was blinking nefariously. The full moon in the night sky and the nightmares on his pale face with his hands tight around the bed sheet or Harry's arm, the midnight movie marathons with too much alcohol and his head falling asleep on Harry's shoulder.

He wasn't sure why but in that moment as he had stared at the blank expanse of wood all he could think was that he finally understood, if only a little. Draco didn't want to stop those kinds of kisses, kisses from people he didn't know, people he couldn't predict, people who couldn't disappoint him because he didn't care enough about them in the first place. He wanted to soar through the nights with hands on his body and voices in his ear, a drink blurring the edges, and he wanted it all gone by morning - like it had been nothing but a dream. Maybe it was the war. Maybe it was because of Ethan, maybe the man had broken his heart when he left for Germany. But the why didn't really matter, did it? What mattered was that Draco wouldn't even articulate what he wanted from his ex-boyfriend. All he could do was stare at Harry and utter half sentences that didn't really say anything at all and make the man sleep on the couch whenever he stayed the night.

And then there were the looks that Harry couldn't stop thinking about. The ones Draco had been casting him lately, the long quiet ones that hinted that maybe the other man was thinking things that he hadn't thought on before - whispering the reminder of all those touches, all those nights, and more importantly days. Days where Draco stuck just as close to him as he did when the sun slept and the moon sailed. The other man never shoved Harry into darkness, into the parts of his life that he could pretend were a dream.

In the end he had cancelled his shame of a date, downed two whiskeys at the empty kitchen table, and picked at left over chicken from two nights ago before grabbing his keys and fleeing the confines of his flat once it became apparent that Draco wasn't coming home anytime soon. He had driven for what felt like hours, trying to force his mind to make connections that weren't to be had, to just suddenly know where Draco had gone off to and what he was thinking and feeling.

Turning down the road that led him to Draco's plot of land hadn't been a conscious decision, it had been more of a last ditch effort as his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel - and now as his feet turned round the bend of trees, he almost didn't believe his own eyes as the figure of his flatmate came into view. He hadn't actually thought that he'd be here, that he'd be sitting in the grass with his arms looped over his knees and a bottle dangling from his fingertips as he stared off into the distance. The man was still in his black suit from before, the tie hanging undone and shirttails untucked, the jacket discarded and the fabric clinging to his body wrinkled - his hair a mess like his fingers had been constantly tugging on the locks and his middle finger was tapping rhythmically against the glass bottle.

"Aren't you supposed to be out with Archives?" Draco drawled without glancing over at him, his gray eyes fixed on the dipping skyline that was melting red and orange and yellow.

Harry faltered for half a second before taking a deep breath and closing the distance between them, the ground and air surprisingly warm and pleasant as he sunk to the grass beside him. "Canceled it."

Draco nodded as he lifted the bottle and took a long drink, his free hand reaching into the box beside him and procuring another bottle of beer for Harry.

"Thanks." He smiled and took it, a quick mutter under his breath popping the top off. "What are you doing out here?"

"Working." The blonde nodded once towards the potions text lying beside him - unopened and untouched.

"Oh." Taking a long drink, Harry fiddled with the label that was curling from the beads of moister clinging to it as he pondered what to say - all his well thought out speeches and planned actions falling away the moment he had entered Draco's magically heated bubble, making it all seem so impossible once more. "Look...about this afternoon -"

"Forget it."

"But I-"
"Really Potter, forget it." Draco glanced sideways at him before turning back towards the skyline and pulling another drink between his lips as Harry swallowed a heavy sigh. He had already taken his shears in hand and snipped their argument away, pushing it out of his mind and choosing never to look at it again. He was going to pretend it never happened, he was going to just go back to how things always were between them. The realization left Harry feeling angry as the other man took another sip, his milky throat working as he swallowed.

This was their problem. Not the insanity of their past. Not all the men. Not Ethan. This - this pushing away, this pretending the things between them weren't happening, weren't changing. And it didn't even matter anymore if Draco didn't feel the same way, if perhaps he really only wanted Harry close as a friend, because he couldn't do this anymore.

Sucking in a breath as his thumb bent the sodden label back off the glass, Harry stared down into his bottle for courage - no regrets, he reminded himself. "I don't want to forget it." He said quietly. "I want...I want us to -"

"To what Harry? Talk about it?" Draco sneered, his wrist flicking as he vanished his empty bottle and snagged a new one with a jerk. "I think you about covered it all already."

"I haven't actually." His throat felt tight as he set the beer down in the long grass, curling his fingers tight around the base to keep it from tipping as he pondered how best to explain it without scaring the shit of the other man and making him run for the hills. Because Harry highly doubted that just blurting out that he was hopelessly in love with him would do an ounce of good. Draco might laugh and act like it was joke, he might stare and blink and look away before shutting down, he might shake his head and walk away...

Harry knew him well enough to know that while Draco wasn't a coward, that he didn't run from things any more, he was uncomfortable with his own emotions that delved deeper than the surface. He laughed and snickered and glowered at friends and strangers, he fucked and lent his body without a thought. But he also purchased more muggle gadgets than was healthy and watched Bond with a funny air about him - holding his breath as the man saved the innocents and rescued the women he had come to care for at the time, looking away for the briefest of moments when he pulled a trigger with a shot that rang loud and exaggerated as nameless bad guys fell to the ground.

It was odd to think that maybe he had learned the most about the other man by watching him watch James Bond. Learned the most by the things he purchased and how he used them to relate to Harry...

"Draco, the thing is...you're a bit difficult to understand, you know. You always have been, you were always good at keeping me guessing. Even when we were young, but I think it's worse now. Harder...to really know what you're thinking."

Draco frowned at his drink, a deep line carved into his forehead. "It's called having decorum Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you just don't know how to say what you’re thinking...what your feeling."

The blonde shifted before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Is this about me fucking around again? Your odd roundabout way of telling me I'm a slut with some sort of emotional complex?"

"No."

"Good. I don't much care for that word."

"Slut?"

"Complex, makes me think of fucking shrinks and their idiot views on the way my mind turns." Draco flicked the cap he had been rolling absentmindedly between his fingers into the grass, a sneer on his lips that hinted that maybe there had been psychiatrists in his past - making him lay on leather couches and trying to analyze him as he glared and told them to fuck off in a number of different languages.

The mental image lurched both painful and humorous in his stomach, a small smile contending on his lips as he pictured a younger Draco with his snarky mouth and petulant air. He never would have put himself in therapy, it had to have been a part of his parole after the war. God, Harry almost felt sorry for the men and women who had been assigned to his case. But he was getting sidetracked with his hands sweating against his leg, his heart pounding in his chest, and he needed to stop mentally stalling and gather his courage and do what he should have done days ago. Weeks ago. Months ago. Years ago...

He fidgeted as he fingered the bottle and cleared his throat. "Well in any case I'm not talking about all the men. Or about Ethan. I'm talking about you and...and me."

Draco silently shifted his gaze to meet Harry's, his lips wet from the beer and his eyes heavy, his jaw sliding forward like he was physically blocking his mouth from forming any audible words. He looked determined and lost, confused and uncertain all at the same time.

Harry smiled softly, his fingers reaching to lightly touch Draco's jaw, his courage pumping stronger, pulling him deeper when the other man didn't pull away - didn't even look away, not for a second, his gray eyes darkening and drowning out the sound of nature around them.

"Harry -" His voice quivered with uncertainly, his eyes darting down as Harry brushed his thumb along the outer swell of the other man's bottom lip.

"I still remember where we were when things changed for me. We were at Pansy's, I think it was her birthday and you were wearing those navy robes -"

"I don't wear navy." Draco interjected and Harry grinned as he felt his body tip nearer, his blood pumping hot through his veins and in his ears and he wondered if Draco could hear it. If he could hear the beat of his heart, the thrum in his blood. He wondered if Draco felt it rushing through his own body in a matching rush of nerves and excited anticipation. They were a match in so many things, opposites in everything else, aligning perfectly, complementing wonderfully. Where Harry lacked Draco stood strong and the same was true for the other way around....and in this, Merlin, Harry could only pray they matched.

"You did. They were new, you kept tugging at the sleeve when you thought no one was looking and you unbuttoned the top collar as we were talking. You were complaining about the increased price of Chinese chomping cabbage."

The sun had been shining hot, Draco's face had been flushed a lovely pink, his tone an exasperated huff as he batted at invisible insects and tried to not pull on the collar of his robes that Harry was pretty sure had been a gift from someone. The back garden had been crowded with few people he knew and dozens that Draco did but still the blonde sequestered himself against a tree and chose to lament his potion sells because of the damn fucking cabbage to Harry. They had ended up drinking too much and Draco had smiled sloppily over at him as they snuck round the house and into the wine cellar - where Draco preceded to unburden Pansy's family of various bottles of prestigious vintage.

It was the night Draco vowed to turn Harry into a wine aficionado (or at least not such of an uncultured plebeian who thought wine from a box was quite good). The night Harry had tasted his first Merlot that he actually liked and the night he had shown Draco his first film (Dr. No...which in hindsight probably wasn't the wisest move). The night he finally admitted to himself as he listened to Draco huff and rant and swat at flies that he had fallen for the other man.

"Chomping cabbage?" Draco murmured and Harry could have sworn that the other man's breath was a little shallower, his cheeks just a little pinker. "That...that was years ago."

Harry nodded and lifted his gaze from Draco's lips to his eyes. "Yes."

Draco sucked in a breath and blinked quickly, the sun sinking beneath the horizon in one last splash of dying color around them. "You're being rather enigmatic, Potter. It's highly unnerving." He whispered.

"No, it's simply really." Harry leaned closer as he repeated his words from earlier at the tailors, his thumb brushing along the blondes jaw before slipping his hand down to curve possessively around the back of the man's neck. He tipped his head, bringing them close enough that their breath mingled and warmed the space between them as he visually traced the sharp angles of his cheeks, the slightly parted fullness of his lips, his impossible gray eyes - the flecks of blue and gold bright up close.

"Don't be with Ethan. Because things have changed. For a long time...I've wanted..." He trailed off and swallowed, his courage faltering even though there was no turning back - not with his hand holding his face, his gaze full of the words that weren't coming off his tongue but with the half confession ringing loud and clear between them anyway. Not with their lips nearly brushing and Draco's eyelashes fluttering like he couldn't decide if he should close them or stare wide eyed at him until he inevitably went crossed eyed.

"What do you want?" Draco breathed and there was nothing hard or needled about his tone - his voice flayed open and making Harry's heart constrict as something fluttered in his stomach.

"You know. You have to know already..." He murmured in a breathy gush that pushed out of him and before he could ruin it with his own fumbling stutters, Harry breathed deep and did what he'd been dying to do for years now - he leaned in and kissed him, slanting his lips over Draco's whose parted in a breath of surprise that got muffled and lost inside him.

He distantly heard and felt Draco's drink clatter to the ground as his grip slipped and spilled beer over the ground, his pale hand pressing flat against Harry's chest like he was going to push him away for all but a moment before his fingers curled tight into his shirt - scratching his skin and heightening his senses further.

Using his free hand, Harry's fingers found their way into Draco's hair, twisting in the silky locks and pulling gently, his mouth opening wider as Draco's nails sank deeper, his heart soaring with the feel and taste and reality that he wasn't being shoved away. He pressed closer, savored Draco's quiet gasp, his tongue sneaking out to press against his as he kissed him harder, deeper, closer - his hands trying to tug him ever nearer as Draco let out a strangled broken sound.

"Harry..." He whispered in a dizzy sort of manner, his hand that wasn't squished between them coming up to rest tentatively against Harry's cheek - first one finger, then two, the third tapping in an offbeat rhythm. Trembling.

"Don't be with him. Or anyone else." Harry muttered between kisses with Draco's eyes squeezed tightly closed, his lashes dusting his cheeks. "Be with me." There were more words on his tongue, things that needed to be said, that needed to be made clear, but the man's lips were like a drug and he was instantly addicted - every nerve in his body catching fire as the other man tensed, let out another soft sound that cracked in the middle, and pressed closer on his own accord.

Kissing him. Draco Malfoy was kissing him and for once Harry wasn't dreaming.

A/N: Oh dear, did I lose all my lovely readers?
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