One Chance | By : wretchedscar Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4517 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
by WretchedScar
© April 22, 2004 to current
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities are the property of J.K. Rowling. No infringement intended.
Genre: HP/DM; M/M; Lemon; Issues of Non-Con; Light BDSM; Angst & Eventual Romance. If you have any doubts about any of these things then for goodness sake - go find some fluff (nothing against fluff, I love fluff - but right now, it just isn't 100% here)! Thanks!
* * *
Draco Malfoy sat with his Potion’s partner, Blaise Zabini, in the dark dungeon classroom and stirred the frothing cauldron that held their latest assignment.
“So are things still on for tonight?” he asked quietly, with cool calm and never once failing his attention on what he was doing. He had high marks to maintain and he never let his social life interfere. Never.
“Of course,” Blaise murmured back, throwing in a dash of dragonwood to the ingredients and smiling as the thick liquid in their cauldron turned towards the accurate shade of violet. “As if we’d let anything stop our scheduled Slyltherin orgy?”
Draco snorted and then quickly regained his composure, “You may be into group bonding, but I prefer having that one significant other – at least for the duration of getting laid,” he stated quietly and for all Snape knew they were discussing the progress of their assignment.
“That’s right, you have commitment issues,” Blaise smirked. “How could I forget that if you can’t commit to one person you certainly couldn’t commit to two or m– ev– even for the orgy.”
Draco glared at his Partner and stopped stirring for a moment to let the words sink in. “I do not have commitment issues! And it’s a party, not an orgy.” he hissed and continued stirring, breaking the momentary pause that the conversation had created.
“Hmph, maybe for you. So then what happened between you and Justin . . .” Zabini began.
“Merely an agreement to disagree . . .” Draco immediately answered.
“And then with Zachary?” Zabini inquired.
Draco’s brows furrowed together, “Zachary who?”
“Very funny,” Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes and stopped to make a scholarly note on the transition of their potion, glancing quickly at Snape to confirm that he was still thoroughly engrossed in grading the papers from their previous assignment at his desk.
“No, no, I definitely do not have issues, commitment or otherwise,” Draco stated with a snobbish sniff and lifted the ladle from their cauldron, to set it on the desk. “Looks like we’ve earned another extraordinary grade,” he stated with smug satisfaction.
“Indeed,” Blaise stated finishing up on some notes. “So then, for this org- er party, whom do you plan on hooking up with?”
“Who says I want to hook up with anyone,” Draco stated rolling his eyes and starting to organize his things since there was only about five minutes left of the class period. He liked to be the first one out the door, not in a mad rush mind-you, but to maintain his punctual habits. “Even if it is for one quick shag.”
“Come on, there’s no way you can resist a shag, quick or otherwise,” Blaise teased, still keeping his voice low so that it remaimed private. “You’re a sex addict.”
“Zabini!” Draco exclaimed and cleared his throat, his face growing red while he checked to see if anyone had noted his embarrassed outburst. “I am not a sex addict he hissed,” and swallowed and looked around and over his shoulder quickly; and who was staring at him, equally red in the face but for lord knew what reason, was Potter. Harry Potter. “What are you staring at, Scarhead,” Draco growled.
“From what I heard, I’m staring at a ‘sex addict’, Malfoy,” Harry glared. He wasn’t going to say anything but Draco had taken that tone with him – again. It got on his nerves – he always felt the need to stand up for himself or his friends against Malfoy’s accomplished sneering.
Hermione cleared her throat, never once looking up from what she was doing, obviously trying to dispel the current events from her conscious mind.
Draco started to get up from his chair without thinking, but was dispelled of that wanted action by Zabini who grabbed him and yanked him back down.
“You wouldn’t know what sex was if Madame Pomfrey gave you a blow job, Potter,” Blaise smirked and whispered over his shoulder to the boy who lived. “Could you see this one at a Slytherin org-, er party? He’d never survive.”
“So you think,” Harry muttered.
“Mister Potter.”
Harry sighed. Blaise and Draco smiled.
“Is there something you would like to share with the class?” Snape paused in his grading of papers to stare with a firm, black gaze at the young, dark haired boy.
Harry looked at Draco straight in the eyes, one eyebrow raised.
Draco cursed the look Harry was giving him – if he said one word, one word about the party of the mention of sex-addict he’d . . .
“No, sir,” Harry shook his head and went back to making his final notes on the potion he had brewed with Hermione that day. Hermione shook her head, snorted and continued taking notes. Harry had long ago advised her and Ron to stay out of any arguments on his behalf with the Slytherins or Snape while in potions. It was just, quite frankly, a lost cause.
“Five points from Gryffindor for your interruption,” Snape growled and then, much to everyone’s relief, went back to grading papers.
Draco frowned trying to discern why Potter had backed down. It would have been a perfect moment for him to take advantage of – yet he hadn’t.
“Let me guess,” Zabini said, “you’re as confused with what just happened here as I am.”
The chime sounded and class ended.
“Set your cauldrons over on the counter by the supply rack,” Snape intoned. “Remember to leave your notes as well.”
Everyone rushed to do his bidding so that they could be gone from the uncomfortable dungeons and their teacher’s strict presence.
Blaise, knowing how Draco liked to leave almost at once, started to gather up their things but was surprised to have his friend halt his progress. “I’ve got this today,” Draco stated firmly.
Blaise paused, letting this change in habit sink in, “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” Draco nodded.
“What are you up to,” Blaise quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Honestly?” Draco asked, smiling with that rather spooky Malfoy style, “I’m not exactly sure yet.” He glanced quickly over to see, as usual, Potter finishing up for the day and the Granger girl wanting to rush off to her next academic date. He listened to confirm that his main reason for staying would take place.
“Go ahead, Hermione,” Harry smiled. “I’ll take care of this.”
Draco smirked and felt some satisfaction. This might actually work out. Crazy as it may all be – he owed Potter one for that smart remark earlier – hell, he would always owe Potter one.
“You’re sure?” Hermione asked, looking frantic to leave to get to her next class but unsure as to leaving her partner with said responsibility.
“Go on! I know you have to rush to the other side of the castle and refuse to be even a second late,” Harry chuckled.
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione beamed and kissed him quickly on the cheek before turning and rushing out the door, nearly colliding with Blaise Zabini who stepped aside with a sweeping gesture of the arm to let a blushing Gryffindor exit.
Harry picked up their heavy cauldron and went to set it in its assigned place. He was careful not to let the thick, violet liquid spill over the edges – that would probably only earn him a detention from Snape.
Harry snorted to himself out loud and set the Cauldron down, safely on the counter.
“What’s so funny, Potter,” Malfoy had come to stand next to him, placing his cauldron by the other boy’s.
“None of your business,” Harry stated quietly. He had already lost five points to ferret-boy and he would be damned if he’d lose any more because Malfoy had nothing better to do than cause trouble after class.
Malfoy felt his anger and frustration starting to boil up. Patience and understanding were two of many nice things that just didn’t seem to run in his family. When he wanted something he wanted it and by Merlin no one had better stand in his way. So having Potter refuse him an answer was just another little push to his already Potter-irked buttons that day.
“Everything is my business,” Draco stated eyeing the other boy – pushing for another response. It seemed that the only way Harry Potter would acknowledge him was if they fought.
“So you think, ‘Mr. Sex-Addict,’” Harry taunted.
Draco grit his teeth, “Yes, well,” he added smoothly, “at least I’ve had sex, Potter.”
Harry turned sharply to stare at the other boy. “I. Am. Not. A. Virgin.”
“Oh sure,” Draco brushed at a non-existant piece of fluff on his sleeve. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Harry started to open his mouth to further protest but Draco held up his hand quickly to silence him. This silencing only worked as he had used his other hand to procure a piece of parchment from his robe’s pocket to hand to the other boy.
Harry took the piece of paper, confused. “What is this?”
“An invitation,” Draco drawled, noticing that more and more people were starting to leave and that to go unnoticed by Snape he should do likewise and soon.
“What sort of invitation?” Harry asked, eyeing the Slytherin with distaste and suspicion.
“See Potter, I don’t truly buy that you’re not a virgin – AND,” he continued on excluding the
chance for the other boy to protest, “the reason for that is you just don’t party enough.”
“I party, Malfoy,” Harry stated and then winced at how stupid that sounded. So much for smart and suave retorts today.
“Not that I’ve heard,” Draco smirked.
“What do you mean ‘not that you’ve heard,’” Harry narrowed his eyes. He hated knowing his name was in the gossip stream any more than it already was.
“Read the note,” he stated with a dismissive wave, “take a chance.” He moved closer towards Harry, his breath touching the other boy’s ear, “Unless of course you’re too scared, in which case –“ Draco shrugged.
“You wish,” Harry stated quietly.
“You have no idea,” the Slytherin smirked and then pushed past Potter to leave all said and done.
* * *
It was a little after dinner and the boy-who-lived found himself wondering the corridors of Hogwarts by himself, thinking matters through.
Scarhead –
11:00 PM – Slytherin dorms. Password: Imperius
Dress to impress (me). And keep your mouth shut about this to the other Gryffindorks, Ravenerds and Hufflepukes.
-D.M.
Harry stared at the simple, but to-the-point note for what must have been the fiftieth time. The piece of parchment had so many creases in it from being held, folded and reviewed over and over again that it was beginning to fall apart.
There was no way – no way – he would go. Absolutely none.
‘That’s such a lie,’ he churned out at himself in his mind as he felt obliged, no felt tempted enough to entertain the thought of going. He had heard Zabini and Malfoy mention, with hushed whispers, the party earlier in Potions class. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop but when it came from those two Slytherins he had to be ready for anything. Having heard Zabini call Malfoy a ‘sex addict’ hadn’t been what he had expected to hear to say the least.
Why did the thought of Malfoy and sex stir something with an edge of curiosity in him? It shouldn’t – it really, really shouldn’t . . . Okay, but it did. Malfoy seemed dark and dangerous – add a bit of sex appeal, black silk boxers and . . . .
“Oh my god,” Harry closed his eyes and winced at himself. “We’re stopping right there.”
Harry wondered what a Slytherin party would be like. Probably the complete opposite of what Gryffindor held which normally only included games of exploding snap, chess matches, and the most devious beverage they could muster being butterbeer (oh my). No, if Harry knew the Slytherins they would do it just right. And that’s what worried him.
‘Take a chance,’ Malfoy’s voice rang in his head and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up with a case of nerves. Exactly what type of ‘chance’ was he going to take then?
Harry sighed and folded up the note only to slide it safely into his robe’s pocket. There was no choice for it then. “You get one chance Malfoy and just one,” he muttered to himself as headed up to his dormitory to get ready.
* * *
It was 11:35 PM and Draco Malfoy sat on the black leather sofa that was situated in the middle of the Slytherin common room wearing a rather disagreeable frown.
Blaise glanced over to his blonde haired friend and sighed. He really didn’t have a clue what was going on with the other boy – Draco usually lived to be the focus of attention at these gatherings – but there he sat, basically, well sulking! Walking back over (for the third time) he sat down next to his fellow Slytherin.
“Would you just give it a rest already,” Blaise stated quietly, taking a swig of his fire whiskey.
“Fuck off,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” Blaise glared. “We spent the better part of this month planning and looking forward to this event and here you sit like someone freed your house elf! How is that even possible?!
We have music and booze and drugs, we have Pansy and Millicent over there so drunk they’re snogging – two girls kissing – I mean come on – it’s a guy’s dream; we have handsome Anthony over there who would, quite frankly, just like to have you fuck his brains out; not to mention the several other orgies that are erupting all over the place and – and - ! Blaise paused as the whole environment seemed to quiet down. “What’s going . . . on . . .” he trailed off, his gaze going towards the front entrance where everyone else was focused. There, standing by himself looking thoroughly akward but as hot as ever was . . .
“Harry Potter,” Malfoy stated with a smirk, thoroughly pleased.
“Oh holy fuck,” Zabini gaped.
* * *
Harry stood in the entryway to Slytherin, looking around for his supposed host and trying to calm his nerves. He was in snake territory and although he had felt brave enough to set foot in at first, he wanted nothing more than to turn his back on an uncertain evening and run back toward Gryffindor tower.
As if sensing Harry’s thoughts of fleeing, Draco Malfoy stood, as elegantly as ever, from the sofa he had been reigning from and moved forward, amidst dead silence toward his supposed rival standing at the door.
Harry watched Malfoy with unease, as if he might strike at any moment, and swallowed offering a small smile and a shrug as if to say, taa daa here I am.
Malfoy held out his hand, waiting for the other boy to shake.
Harry was reluctant at first to touch Malfoy’s hand. It reminded him all too clearly of the first moment they had set up their rivalry.
“A truce then,” Malfoy stated calmly, but loudly enough for everyone in the common room to hear. “At least for one night.”
Harry nodded and reached out, firmly grasping the other boy’s hand and shook it. He was surprised to feel that Malfoy’s touch was gentle, soft and incredibly warm.
It was as if that was all that was needed for the celebration to resume. The noise level screeched back onward and music pounded and pumped and echoed throughout the green and silver decorated walls.
“Come on then, scarhead,” Malfoy drawled and led him deeper into the party, dragging him over towards the black sofa. He tugged a speechless and nervous Harry Potter down to sit with him.
Harry let out a little ‘oof’ as he was tugged down to sit on the solid yet comfortable black, leather sofa. He felt a blush spread across his cheeks at the thought of sitting so close to the Slytherin House’s current ruler.
“Don’t worry,” Draco leaned in, whispering so close to Harry’s ear that his breath caressed his skin, “I’ll take care of you tonight.”
“You will?” Harry raised an ‘I’m-not-so-sure-of-that’ eyebrow and stared into gray, cool and calculating eyes.
Draco snorted. “Yes.”
“So, ahem, Draco,” Blaise drew attention to himself. “Guess I don’t need to ask who you invited.”
“Problem with that?” Draco asked, leaning forward to glare at his best friend.
“Like you’d leave any room for argument,” Blaise smirked and pointed out.
“Er, maybe I should go,” Harry started to rise but was pulled back down by Malfoy.
“You’ll stay, Potter,” Draco stated firmly.
“He’s a great host isn’t he,” Blaise chuckled at Harry.
Harry was shocked, a Slytherin who smiled – at him! Weird. “You could say that,” Harry started to relax and joked back.
“Here,” Blaise reached into one of numerous (and surprisingly enough) muggle coolers that were scattered here and there throughout the room and handed him a firewhiskey. “Can you handle your drink?”
Harry jerked the bottle out of Blaise’s hand and glared, “Of course I can. I can handle a lot of things.”
Draco snorted, “Sure, Potter. Like you’ve had a firewhiskey a day in your life. Blaise – limit the boy to three of these will you and then put a cap on his drinking habits.”
“Bossy bastard,” Harry muttered and took a large gulp of the drink. He swallowed and then winced as he felt a strong, calm and rather foreceful hand grasp his wrist, the one holding the drink.
“I told you . . .” Draco started.
Harry stared, not knowing where this was going. Hell there was only so much he knew about Draco Malfoy – what had he gotten himself into. “Told me what . . .” Harry prompted quietly.
Draco let go of Harry’s wrist, stood up with a sigh and then turned and stalked off. Harry was sure that he had heard Draco say ‘that I’d take care of you’ ever so quietly before leaving but he wasn’t definite. He shivered not knowing on what level those words could be interpreted to.
“Don’t mind him,” Blaise smiled and moved to sit by Harry, he just likes to be in control of things, and with that he handed Harry another rather delicious looking firewhiskey. “Don’t tell,” Blaise smirked and then moved off to socialize as well.
Harry chuckled and then felt himself become a little bit anxious. He was now sitting on the sofa, by himself wondering what to do next. He took a sip of the firewhiskey and wanted to die of embarrassment when he was caught by a fit of coughing due to its liquid strength.
“Strong stuff, that,” said a silky sweet voice that was soon accompanied by a body leaning over the back of the sofa, to snuggle up to him.
“Um, er, right, hi,” Harry offered rather weakly at the sudden surprise of having a visitor and one who didn’t obviously know the rule of body space on first encounters.
“Um, er, right, hi to you too,” Pansy gave him a sexy mysterious look. “Harry Potter,” she stated, moving around from the back of the sofa to sit down by him, “at a Slytherin party. God I must be fucking hallucinating from that little potion concoction we mixed up earlier but never you mind,” she giggled and put her arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You know you and I have never gotten past the insults,” she pointed out.
Harry blushed and tried to scoot a little further away from the girl who sat cuddled up to him on the sofa. He started looking desperately around for an escape.
As if sensing his nervousness, Pansy leaned in towards him, pushing her breasts against his chest, her lips ever so close to his, “Relax, Potter, I’m not going to,” she handed him another fresh drink, “spank you.”
Harry gulped and then gulped down the next bit of drink he had been given, coughing all over again. He felt the world spin around him. “Thanks,” he wheezed. “Er, but you know – getting late – need to –“
“-dance,” Pansy suggested and dragged him up. “Come on Potter, this is a party and a Slytherin one at that. First we drink, then we dance, then we drink and then we get laid,” she giggled.
“I’m up for dancing and drinking,” Harry tugged on his arm, trying to slow down the process of being dragged out into the pit of bodies that were dancing to the beat. “But you know I think that’s all. I have potions in the morning,” his mouth stuttered out and his brain thought ‘poor, pathetic idiot.’
“Oh you are too cute,” Pansy smiled and pushed herself up to dance with him. Harry felt awkward at first, not knowing where to go, what to do or how to get his body to relax enough to move in such a way that wouldn’t embarrass him on the dance floor. But Pansy, being well the experienced Parkinson when it came to both men and women, wrapped her arms around his waist and guided him to and fro in a rather graceful and stylish manner.
Harry felt his body moving to the beat along with everyone else, felt the sound of the base pound against the rhythm of his heart and felt the alcohol burn through the blood in his veins; he relaxed into the moment and smiled, starting to dance more freely with Pansy – then someone else – then – then . . . . it went on, and on, the dancing and the drinking . . . the touching and the flirting . . .
Harry plopped back down on his ‘home-base’ black sofa with Pansy (drunk she was herself) and Blaise Zabini who was a bit tipsy as well and laughed non-stop. He didn’t feel happy, he just felt as if he couldn’t stop. It was as though he had found a release – finally.
He felt his hand closing around a bottle of butterbeer (which was a nice change from the stronger stuff he had been ingesting all night long) and took a hearty gulp. After that first, long swallow of his latest beverage he felt his stomach lunge and knew that there was suddenly a problem. “All of a sudden, I don’t feel so good . . .” he stated quietly but no one seemed to hear him. He was aware that
Blaise and Pansy were whispering over his lap to one another and laughing, looking his way. “Not so good . . .” he stated again and tried to stand but tumbled back down into Blaise and Pansy’s waiting arms. He wasn’t laughing any more.
“Easy there handsome,” Pansy stated quietly.
“Where’s Malfoy,” Harry closed his eyes, grimacing, feeling like he was going to pass out. Wasn’t Malfoy supposed to be there for him?
“Your host? He’s coming,” Blaise whispered and smiled.
“Need . . . to go . . .back to . . . to . . .” Harry squeezed his eyes shut and wished he could just suddenly appear back safe and sound in the strong embrace of Gryffindor’s tower.
“Don’t you worry,” he heard Blaise say with a snigger. “We’ll get you where you need to be.” And before Harry could protest further he felt himself being lifted up by under the arms and moved forward slightly. He felt his legs move forward of their own accord and then he felt them drag. His mind couldn’t function and so his limbs and thoughts had abandoned him to the mercy of others. Slowly all sense of awareness, of feeling drifted away and darkness a dru drunken unconsciousness (his first ever) overwhelmed him.
* * *
Draco Malfoy was anything but happy. He had tried to distance himself from Harry Potter all night long. He didn’t want to be desperate, he didn’t want the other Slytherins to know too much (not yet) and he also didn’t want to make Potter feel, well, uncomfortable or harassed and nervous. There was a purpose to this – oh yes – but for once in his life, Draco Malfoy was trying, as best he could, to practice self-restraint.
Self-restraint sucked. It majorly sucked. And so he had focused on the party, on the music, the conversations, the people (everyone but Harry) and the dancing and . . . . oh it had infuriated and frustrated him to see Harry Potter up and dancing, melding his body to Pansy’s to Blaise’s to everyone elses . . . but, oh no, ‘self-restraint’ was his motto. He had had nothing to drink so far so he couldn’t blame anyone or anything but himself.
He tried to focus on what Deliah Fergusson was saying to him but he had noted that something around him had changed – something was definitely – missing . . .
“Potter.” Malfoy interrupted the girl.
“What?” Deliah asked.
“Where’s Potter,” he moved past her looking around. He shoved his way through the dance-floor area, moving towards where the sofa sat – empty. Turning around quickly as if to retrace his steps and find what he had been looking for he slammed full-force into Blaise.
“Where. Is. He.” Draco ground out.
“Woah, easy there Drac,” Blaise laughed, using the nic-name that the other boy hated. “I have a surprise for you.”
* * *
Draco felt his irritation growing as he followed Blaise up the winding staircase, past snogging couples and other confused, drunken students towards his dormitory room. “What the hell is going on? Is Potter puking in the bathroom? I told you to limit his . . drinking . . .“ he trailed off as Blaise pushed open the door and stood, arms spread open to indicate what was waiting for him.
“Hi, Draco honey,” Pansy giggled. She was kneeling by Draco’s bed and on his bed was one Harry Potter, sprawled naked as the day he was born, on his stomach, passed out cold.
“Oh holy fuck,” Draco gaped.
“That’s what we’re hoping for, for you at least,” Blaise snorted and then doubled over with laughter.
“This isn’t funny!” Draco roared moving into the room, dragging Blaise with him and then slamming the door so no one walking (or stumbling) by would see what the room held. “You’re both fucking drunk!”
“Yeah . . .” Blaise smirked.
“And . . .” Pansy giggled.
Draco rushed forwards, “Where are his clothes – help me get him dressed – we have to get him back to –“
Blaise grabbed Draco by the shoulders and shook him, “Are you insane? This is what you have wanted –“
“Blaise –“ Draco growled and tried to shake off his friend’s grasp.
“No! Don’t deny it Drac, we all know. We’re your friends and we know. All that fighting, all the constant riling on about Potter – Potter this, Potter that – come on – we. know. Fuck him, Draco and enjoy it.”
Draco felt his breath coming in heavy, straining moments due to the stress of the situation. He looked over to his bed, to where Pansy knelt, stroking Harry Potter’s soft, pitch-black hair.
“No, I don’t think so,” Draco stated. “No,” he affirmed.
Pansy rolled her eyes and stood up, moving towards where Draco Malfoy stood, defiant. “Like it or not, Draco this is the only way you’re going to have him and you know it.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Draco’s brow furrowed together. “I –“
“You thought one night, one truce and an invitation to a party would change things between you two?” Pansy continued, walking back over to where Potter lay on his stomach. “You what? Were hoping for a relationship with the-boy-who-lived?” she laughed and cut Draco’s heart in two by knowingly and verbally exposing all his innermost fears at what he had wished to start to pursue. “The only way you’re going to have this,” and she slapped Potter’s ass with a resounding crack, “is tonight, under these circumstances or not at all.”
“She’s right you know,” Blaise stated quietly and moved forward to grab Pansy by the arm and lead her out of the room. “So do what you like – do him or don’t do him – but just know that whatever happens will stay between just us.”
Draco couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word – he could only just bear the pain in his chest as he looked at the naked boy, the boy he desired, on his bed.
What was the harm? He moved quietly forward, towards the bed noting that the other boy hadn’t moved but was breathing steadily in a drunken stupor.
“Damnit Potter,” Malfoy hissed, still moving forward, “I warned you about the drinking.”
‘As if that’s any excuse,’ his prissy conscious reprimanded.
“But no,” he pulled his shirt out from his pants and started to unbutton it. “You had to go and not listen.”
‘He was in a room full of corrupting Slytherins – what did you expect’ came that little voice again.
He tugged his arms out of his shirt and threw it on the ground, starting next to undo his belt buckle from his pants.
“Then you made a complete fool of yourself out there, dancing around with everyone – letting them touch you – feel you –“ Draco continued, his breathing was coming faster and he felt rather annoyed with the whole night.
‘You left him on his own, what did you expect?’ his own mind was betraying him by not shutting up.
“All I wanted,” he roared as he pulled off his slacks and then his boxers, to stand naked in front of his bed – in front of an unconscious Harry Potter, “all I wanted was a chance, one chance with you.”
‘You promised you’d take care of him . . .”
Draco’s hand slowly and shakily made its way outward, forward to drift close towards the other boy’s skin. It hovered an inch or two above Harry’s back before slowly diving downwards to reach out and make contact, caressing the skin. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, his heartbeat heightening.
This was the most intimate touch he had ever been able to share with Potter . . . yet.
Yet he moved forward, moved his own body toward the boy, rolled him over so that he could look at Potter for himself.
Sure enough, Harry was definitely still out cold, he looked as peaceful as he could be without knowing his current circumstances.
Draco moved is fingertips to the dark, unruly bangs that drifted over the object of his desire’s forehead. He pushed them aside and looked for that one thing that intrigued so many – the scar. His fingers drifted downward and traced the small jagged shape that had formed out of puckered flesh of the scar. He drew back his fingers when the other boy sighed softly – but other than that nothing else had happened.
‘You said you’d take care of him . . .’
Silence and a moment of discerning later he carried himself even farther forward, carried himself so that he put his body over the other boy’s, felt his manhood press against another manhood and sighed with pleasure as he felt himself becoming hard. He looked down, to see what was happening – and felt a moment of regret. Only a moment – and then he moved his lips forward, softly to push against Harry’s.
He tasted sweet – a mixture of mint, alcohol and innocence. Raising his face and reluctantly separating his lips from the other boy’s he let his thumb snake out to caress Harry’s cheek. “Potter . . . wake up. Wake up and tell me this is alright.” He frowned and let his head drop to rest on the boy’s neck. “Please.”
Draco nearly jumped a foot when he felt a hand run through his hair. He shot up on his elbows to look down at a heavy lidded boy-who-lived looking dazed and confused up at him. “What’s . . . going-on . . .” Harry murmured, still rather out of it. “Where – where-you . . I . .”
“Potter,” Draco looked at him and then moved forward to kiss him again.
He felt the other boy stir beneath him with a diluted bit of shock, his lips still locked together even though Draco was nibbling on his bottom lip trying to open them up.
Draco nipped and teased at Harry’s lips, all the while pressing his ever-hardening manhood against the other boy’s. When Harry felt the pressure against his groin he gasped, and Malfoy moved his tongue into his mouth, to carress at his wet, warmth that was there.
Draco then moved his kisses towards Harry’s neck and sucked and nipped and caressed the exposed flesh with his teeth, lips and tongue.
“Malfoy?” he heard Harry asked with confusion. “Whats happen-ning,” he slurred out. “What . . .” Harry tried again, his arms moving of their own accord to wrap around the other boy for support.
“Shh,” Malfoy kissed Harry’s collarbone. “It’ll be alright . . . trust me.” He sucked strongly, and bit hard on Harry’s neck, ignoring the first rather strong outburst from the other boy, in order to make his mark.
“Ow,” Harry moaned from where he lay, trying desperately to understand what he couldn’t. “You, y-bit me,” he asked, sounding surprised. “What – what-areyou-do-doing,” he stuttered, his senses awakening to some rather intimate touches.
“Potter,” Malfoy’s breathing was coming quickly and he kept grinding his erection against Harry’s own growing one. “Mine,” he growled.
“Malfoy –“ Harry’s mind was clearing – the fog was lifting.
“Feels so, so good,” Draco groaned and pushed and rubbed and ground against the other boy. He was happy to feel Harry’s arousal starting to leak cum against his own and he knew that they both were making their way towards a climax. “Oh, Merlin – Potter – so good!” he continued, not registering that
Harry was starting to push against him, not in want but in a desperate trial to make things end.
“Malfoy, no,” Harry growled, his hands working to push against the naked boy’s chest, against his body in order to free himself from this. “Not – ahh, oh,” he hated how his body was working against his own chosen accord – he felt as though he had betrayed himself. “Please,” he started to sound desperate, “N-not like this, Draco” he couldn’t stand it – his body was tingling, Malfoy was warm, moving – oh moving onward – pushing him further – he was going to – he had never . . .
Draco, following his body’s primal urges, pushed Harry’s knees up and apart and then, without a moment’s hesitation, parted his butt-cheeks and drove into Harry’s hole.
Harry yelled full force as he felt the penetration that had taken his innocence – that should have been a tender, prepared moment – which it had not. “No!” he cried and felt Draco’s body go rigid and pause. He felt ashamed as the tears flowed nonstop from his eyes at the whole betrayal. “Not like this,” he stated sadly, quietly, full of sorrow.
One moment Draco was still and above Harry, his arousal fully embedded in the other boy, the next he was pushing away and jumping up, grabbing at random articles of clothing – fleeing without saying a word so quickly that Harry wondered how it had been possible. Had it all truly happened?
Harry moaned, pulling his knees up and into him, still lying on Draco’s bed, naked and vulnerable and cried. He rarely cried but it was as though it were time and that it were appropriate he do so. What had happened here? Had Draco been drunk too? Why didn’t he remember saying yes and then saying no? How had things changed so quickly? He couldn’t move, couldn’t stand the reality of it all. “You said you’d take care of me,” he said quietly to the empty room.
Sitting up with a rather awkward moment of strength, Harry sought out his clothes that had been stashed in a pile in the corner of the dormitory room.
He was vaguely aware that he stumbled down the winding staircase with tears slowly drying in trails over his face, that he had had to push past Blaise and Pansy who approached him with fake-concern written all over their faces and he was only too aware that Draco Malfoy was no where to be seen or found.
He was, however, thankful that when he returned to Gryffindor tower that no one had been aware of where he had gone, that no one was awake to receive his debilitated state and that maybe, come morning . . . .
Harry fell into bed, his senses riled, his head pounding and his body surrendering to unconscious bliss . . . and all the while his heart was beating against the betrayal.
* * *
The next day at breakfast, the student body was divided into two distinct groups - those with hangovers and those without.
“What’s with the Slytherins today,” Ron Weasley stated, through a full mouth of half-chewed food. “They all look, well, green. Er, well, green-er than usual, that is.”
Harry felt his stomach lunge at the sight of Ron’s half finished breakfast that was occupying his mouth and decided to dip his head to study his untouched breakfast plate with close scrutiny so that he wouldn’t throw up all over his best friend. “Don’t know,” he lied. He knew. He had what they had - a serious hangover. It was his first ever. But beyond that he also had many, many things on his mind. One was, where was Draco (he was absent from the Slytherin table); two was, what exactly had happened between them last night; and three was, how could he get his poor bum to stop hurting (sadly enough).
“What’s with you today,” Ron stopped chewing to stare at his friend with thoughtfulness. “Did you stay up too late studying in the library, then?”
Harry had almost forgotten the lie that had explained his absence last night.
“Er, yeah,” Harry sighed. “Seen Hermione?” he asked quietly and pushed his eggs around his plate, watching as the yellow yolk trailed here and there resslyssly.
Ron snorted, “That’s a good question. Have no idea. Last I saw, she was muttering something about ‘wreckless behavior’ and went off towards the library.”
Harry felt a moment’s panic - Hermione wouldn’t know anything about last night, would she?
“Oh god,” Harry moaned and pushed his plate away.
“You don’t lookgoodgood,” Ron leaned back from his friend as if he might get something from being too close to otheother boy. “Need to go see Pomfrey?”
Harry looked across the hall at the Slytherin table and saw that Blaise Zabini was getting up to leave. Maybe Blaise knew something - or at least where he could find Draco.
“Yeah,” Harry stated quietly. “Think I will.” It was all the excuse he needed.
“Want me to come with you then,” Ron asked, frowning.
“NO!” Harry started then calmed down. “No, no - I’ll be fine. Besides, Potions is next. Best we’re both not late.” He stood up, once again trying to quell his churning stomach and made his way, as quickly as he dared, through the Great Hall, and out into the corridors after Blaise.
* * *
Blaise was busy rounding a corner when he felt something grab hold of the back of his cloak. He turned around quickly, wondering if it were Pansy or another Slytherin but found himself shocked silent and still by whom it was.
“Potter,” Blaise swallowed and forced a smile. “Something I can do for you?” He was going to remain cool. He didn’t know how much Potter knew, remembered or was wondering but the less said the better for all involved at this point. It was up to Draco to handle Potter - the other Slytherin already knew he had Blaise’s and Pansy’s word to keep things quiet.
Harry winced and put a hand to his head, “Not so loud, please.”
“Headache?” Blaise smirked.
“Yes. First hangover ever - I’m . . . adjusting,” Harry winced.
“Oh . . .” Blaise trailed off, feeling awkward. “So, what’s up besides headheadache?”
“Have you seen Malfoy,” Harry asked, to the point.
“He wasn’t feeling so well,” Blaise stated with a half-truth. “Still probably up in bed. Want to go see him?”
“No! Er, no thanks,” Harry rushed. His heart had started hammering - he didn’t want to be stuck in another moment that involved the Slytherin Dorms, Draco or Draco’s bed. “Just was - wondering . . .”
Blaise frowned and crossed his arms, “Anything else?” His heart was hammering and at this point his own head was starting to hurt as well but, unlike Harry’s it was due to stress.
“I, the thing is,” Harry bit his lip, “I don’t really remember much from last night. Just a few - odd - details of things, and I was wondering if Draco could, well,” he wasn’t one for stuttering usually and sighed. “I was hoping we could clear a few things up, is all.” He didn’t want Blaise to know too much at this point. Hel l he didn’t want anyone to know too much at this point. It was all probably just a mistake - a terrible mistake - that was best left to last night. That’s exactly what he would get Draco to agree to - what had happened (whatever it was) was done with and - well - no more!
Blaise swallowed. So Potter wasn’t sure about what had transpired but he wasn’t totally clueless either.
“He’ll be in potions,” Blaise offered. “And he has a free period after that,” he supplied as well - noting to himself though that he had to alert Draco to Potter’s inquiries and possible request of a rendez-vous.
“Great,” Harry smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Blaise smiled and then headed on his way.
* * *
“Draco! Problem!” Blaise Zabini rushed in through the door to their dormitory.
“As if I don’t have enough of them already,” Draco growled, from where he sat at his desk, working on a bit of last minute homework.
“You’re not still sulking, are you?” Blaise asked, sitting on his friend’s bed, across from where he was working.
“I had a rotten time last night, for your information and you’re more than partially to blame!” Draco spit out, turning to look at his friend.
“Me? I think you misunderstood my intentions -“ Blaise blinked with mock-innocence.
“There was no misunderstanding your intentions! Hell I bloody well went against my own intentions and nearly - nearly -“ Draco sighed and threw his quill that he had been writing with down on his desk. The quill hit the parchment and black ink splattered here and there all over its surface. “Who am I fooling I did - and you know what?”
“What?” Blaise asked quietly.
“I don’t regret it for a moment.” Draco stated seriously.
Both sat in silence. Little had been said after Potter’s sudden departure. Blaise had gone up to the room to find it empty he went to the boy’s lavatory to find Draco sitting on the floor, against one of the stall doors, his head held in his hands as if in great agony. After a few harsh words at the predicament and one fist (Draco’s) hitting one gut (Blaise’s) - they had blearily retreated back down stairs only to watch the party finally cut itself off and end.
“So how far did you get with the boy-who-lived, then,” Blaise asked, his chin cupped in the palm of his hands, interest written all over his face.
“ZABINI!” Draco looked taken-aback. “That is none of your fucking business. Malfoy’s don’t fuck and tell.”
“Well I’m only asking because it seems that although Potter has a hangover he has a clue that something - just - wasn’t - right with what transpired last night.”
“Shit,” Malfoy growled. “You do know this is your fault,” he reiterated.
“Noted.”
“He was out cold you know, or at least at first he was. He kind of came to - and things were just - progressing,” Draco stated, standing up and starting to pace. “God, he felt good - even with as sloshed as he was - just to be near him like that.” He glared as Blaise made a joke gagging noise. “Anyway - I wanted him, so much, and when I took him - he said no.”
“He said no,” Blaise murmured.
“I stopped then,” Draco stated.
“You stopped?”
“Fuck, the whole thing caught me off-guard! One moment Potter’s grinding against me the next moment he’s some fearful virgin saying no! And as much as the whole thing turned me on - I wanted at least a semi-willing partner, Blaise. I mean who wants to shag a crying virgin for Merlin’s sake. I was going to be all suave,” he paused, “DON’T YOU DARE LAUGH. I was going to fucking seduce him, and take him so well and good that he would bloody well scream my name. But no - you and Pansy had to just stir-the-cauldron a bit and butt in where you didn’t belong.” he finished ranting.
“We had your best interests at heart,” Blaise pionted out, patting his friend’s shoulder.
“You ruined my attempt at self-restraint,” Malfoy pouted.
“Huh?” Blaise blinked.
“Nevermind,” Malfoy snapped.
“So what bothers you the most about this?” Blaise inquired.
Draco raised an eyebrow, “You honestly want to know.”
“The truth, and the whole truth so help you Merlin,” Blaise grinned.
“That I didn’t get to finish what I started,” Draco stated and Malfoys never lied.
* * *
Harry had had a heck of a time convincing Ron and especially Hermione to go ahead and into the Potion’s classroom without him. He was desperate to get a moment with Draco and didn’t need his best friends overhearing what was no doubt going to be a rather private and mutual rehash.
He ignored the strange looks from his classmates as they passed him from where he stood, leaning against the wall by the entrance to the room. Thank God Snape had yet to show - but Harry tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the ruler of Slytherin to make an appearance.
Finally, as if all of his impatience had paid off, who rounded the corner but Draco and Blaise. They were walking quickly towards Potions but slowed as they saw who lay waiting.
“Go on ahead,” Draco stated to his friend. “Be in shortly.”
Blaise passed Harry, not blinking twice. Harry moved a bit away from the wall and stood, waiting for Draco to move forward towards him a bit more. He was more than awkward with the moment.
“Potter,” Draco sneered. “What can I help you with?”
“Hopefully a lot,” Harry sighed. “We need to talk.”
“No we don’t,” Malfoy stated quietly and moved a bit closer.
“Uh, yes we do,” Harry wrinkled his brow, confused at Malfoy’s statement and actions.
“Fine then,” Draco sed, ed, his chest bare inches from Harry’s and crossed his arm in cool indifference. “So talk.”
Harry glared. He hated it when Malfoy was difficult. “Look, I just wanted to say -“ he fought with the words until they finally jumped out in a rush from his mouth, “Last night - whatever that, wa, was a mistake, alright! We’ll just go back to the way things were and make sure the same thing never happens again. Okay?”
Malfoy’s cool and calculating look hardened. “I don’t make mistakes.”
Harry continued, “We were both drunk and - I don’t know if you know I lead you to believe -“
Malfoy’s mouth dropped a bit and then he regained his composure. So Potter was under the assumption that he, Draco Malfoy, had been tipsy too? That maybe it had been a mutual misunderstanding . . .”Look, Potter.” Draco interrupted. “Number one - I wanted you, no matter what the circumstances were. Number two,” he continued, bypassing focusing on the other boy’s look of pure astonishment. “As I said before, I don’t make mistakes.” He moved forward and was pleased to see the other boy back up a bit so that he finally ended up being cornered, pushed up against the stone wall just outside of where all their classmates sat. “And finally, it will happen again. And we’ll finish what we started.”
Harry felt his legs begin to tremble, a cool sweat breaking out on his forehead. He had no words to dibe tbe the sense of worry that was starting to twist his gut with happy abandon.
“Mister Malfoy,” Professor Snape’s cool voice cut through the thick silence that had followed their interactions. “Is there a problem.”
Draco paused, giving Harry a rather powerful look before stating, “No sir. Potter and I were just finishing up some unfinished things.”
“Into class then, both of you,” Snape sneered, and moved past them, not waiting nor observing anything further.
“Malfoy -“ Harry strangled out finally. “No -“
Malfoy reached out, and grabbed Harry by the back of his neck and dragged him closer so that their noses touched and their eyes made absolute contact. “Yes.” And with that he pushed Harry away and headed into class.
* * *
Malfoy waltzed into the Potions classroom feeling as though he had just won a million more galleons to add to his family fortune. Oh it had been a wonderful, wonderful moment he had shared with Potter outside of the classroom just a while ago. He had finally done it, after all the times he had talked himself out of it, after all of the missed chances, last night’s events had given him a reason and opportunity to do what he had always wanted to do - claim Potter. It was going to be a spectacular day.
He took a seat next to the only empty chair that was in the classroom. He sent Blaise a sly smile of thanks - he knew that his friend had purposely taken the chair next to Granger that Potter usually used. By doing so, Potter would have nowhere else to go this class session but by Draco’s side. Perfect.
It was a full five minutes before the Golden-now-slightly-disheveled-boy-of-Gryffindor finally stumbled into class. Harry Potter looked in panic at his only seating option, his jaw dropped in pure shock and then it snapped shut in a bit of anger. ‘Damn Malfoy and his conniving ways . . . I refuse, absolutely refuse to be a part of this!’ his mind stormed as he stalked over to sit down with a heavy thud, banging his things here and there for added emphasis.
”Mister Potter,” Snape sneered from wher sto stood at the front of the classroom. “Would you please be so kind as to spare us all the ruckus of your presence.”
It was on the tip of Harry’s tongue to apologize (as usual) but, due to all of his frustrations from last night, and to his first hangover, and to Draco’s little insanity prior to class all that came out was a startling “Bite me.”
The class was silent. Snape didn’t move. Harry felt the blood rush to his face in embarrassment and panic. Finally something happened. Draco Malfoy shot out a quick bark of laughter.
”Ahem, sorry,” Draco shrugged. He looked up to his head of house sheepishly and then offered a small smile.
”Detention, Potter - tonight at 8:00 PM. Do not be late,.” Snape roared. “And,” he drawled out, “Mr. Malfoy, for your insubordinate behavior just now . . . five points from Slytherin.”
Everyone gasped, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Snape never deducted points from his own house - especially not from Draco Malfoy whom, in all aspects of things, always seemed to be his favorite student.
”Now then,” Snape sneered, obviously through with the matter, “You will continue with your survey sheets from yesterday.”
The sounds of ruffling through books, and papers, quills dipped into and clanging against glass bottles of ink flowed smoothly into the silence of the classroom.
Harry tried to focus on his work in front of him, trying to ignore the presence of the other boy beside him. He read the same line over and over again before sighing and rubbing his forehead in frustration.
”What’s wrong Potter,” Draco stated quietly aloud, not once deterring from his own work. “Something on your mind? Me, perhaps?”
”Shut. Up. Malfoy. You are not helping,” Harry whispered back hotly. “This is all your fault.”
”How’s that,” Malfoy continued, still not looking up but working succinctly on getting things done during this rather enjoyable chat he was sharing with his boy-who-lived.
”Your damn party has given me the headache from hell, I have someher her raunchy memories of last night that are confusing the hades out of me, and you - you-“ Harry stammered not knowing if he wanted to revisit any previous discussions.
”Yes, yes - me, me, me.” Draco sing-songed.
”Argh,” Harry growled. “This is ridiculous,” he laid down hisll all and then snatched Malfoy’s out of his hand. “Now listen here,” he began. “I don’t know what you’re up to - you’re acting bloody insane -“ he shot a quick glance at Snape to make sure that he was still engrossed in his reading of ‘The Joys of Mid-life Potion Brewing.’
”Give me my quill back,” Malfoy glared.
”I want you to stay away from me,” Harry continued, keeping the other boy’s quill out of reach.
”Give. Me. My. Quill. Back. Potter.” Malfoy glared.
”Whatever happened last night was hormones. Pure and simple. I’m a teenage boy, you’re a teenage boy and,” Harry sighed. “And these things happen. Oh god, what am I saying.”
Malfoy yawned and looked at Harry as though he were regarding a rather boring and none-too-amusing site. “Are you finished yet, because obviously there are a few things that you and I still need to work out, Potter in this new relationship of ours. Rule number one, I’m in charge.”
Harry threw the other boys quill down on the table at him, “I think not. We’re finished, you and I.”
”No, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, snatching up his quill, “we’ve only just begun. My room, after lunch, and don’t be late, Potter.”
Harry glared, “We never started you idiotic prat. And as for ‘your room, after lunch’ - no way in hell.” He tried to ignore anything more by reading yet the same line he had triedfocufocus on his paper only moments before.
”That’s not what I remember being the case,” Malfoy had leaned over, towards Harry, to whisper that softly into his ear. “You were so warm . . . pushing against me . . and oh - so - tight! I never really did get to hear you scream my na-”
”SHUT UP!” Harry roared bol out out of his chair, eliciting startled gasps from those around him and causing Snape to nearly fall out of his chair at his desk.
”Out of the classroom, right now!” Snape pointed to the door. “You will need to speak to the Headmaster before you are to set foot back in here again, Potter! I’ve had enough of your delinquent behavior for today. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor! Now, out!”
* * *
Harry sat in the library, not really enjoying the peace and quiet and certainly enough not studying. He had had little choice on where to go to ease his ill mood. He didn’t want to enter the great-hall for lunch, no indeed he didn’t want to be around others - what with the questions they’d have for his earlier outburst and he certainly didn’t need to see Malfoy sitting over at the Slytherin table smirking at him the entire time.
He rested his head on the cool wood of the table, trying to think things through.
“Harry . . .”
Harry sighed, he knew that voice. Not lifting his head, he murmured a quiet, “Hi, Hermione.” He waited, and waited . . . and finally, when nothing else happened or was said, he lifted his head to blearily regard his friend. “Want to talk about it?” Hermione offered.
They had been friends now for a long while, and in that time he had grown closer to Hermione than even Ron. She was good at listening and giving advice - he suspected it had to be a ‘girl-thing’ or something of the such.
“I’m so confused,” he stated quietly, picking at a scratch in the wooden table.
“About?” Hermione prompted, resting her chin on her hands.
“Er, well, you see - the other night . . .” Harry started, not knowing how to go on.
“You went to the Slytherin party,” Hermione smiled, and sat back with a knowing look.
“How did you know?!” Harry asked, agape. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Oh Harry, I’m not completely blind you know. I listen, I hear, I observe - it’s enough for me to find things out,” Hermione pointed out. “So what happened from that point until now to cause you, well,” she motioned with her hands, “all of this. And what was that outburst in Snape’s class all about Harry Potter? I mean really, ‘bite me’ and ‘SHUT UP’?”
“Are you finished scolding me yet?” Harry gave a little smile.
“Yes, do go on,” Hermione stated with a nod.
“I did go to the party. Malfoy and I called a truce for the night, you know? I think -“ he stopped and swallowed. “I think I drank too much - I woke up - I woke,” he sighed and let his head crash back down to be cradled in his arms.
Hermione sat back and regarded the boy in front of her quietly. She let a moment pass and then reached out to grasp his hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. “You can tell me anything, you know.”
Harry squeezed her hand back and sat up, regaining his composure. “I woke up naked, in bed with Malfoy.”
“WHAT?!?!!?!” Hermione screeched and the librarian issued a rather loud ‘SHH!’ from across the room at her desk.
“You said I could tell you anything!” Harry accused, glaring.
“That wasn’t what I was expecting! For Merlin’s sake Harry - alright then, alright. I’m dealing with the facts, dealing with the facts.“
“It wasn’t my fault! Er, at least I don’t think it was. See, I just don’t know! I can’t remember everything. I know I asked him to stop - and he did. And today, today I tried to just clear things up - you know chalk it up to some twisted teenage hormones - basically saying, ‘it was a one time deal’ and now . . . now . . “ Harry trailed off, not knowing where to go next.
“Now?” Hermione prompted, leaning across the table, towards her friend, encouraging him to go on.
“I think he thinks we’re dating or something. I don’t know - but he’s made it clear that he is perfectly content with what happened between us and wants something more,” Harry groaned.
Hermione chuckled, “I’m not surprised. Well, I’m not!” she continued at Harry’s look of astonishment. “It was only a matter of time before you two shagged. Oh do be quiet, Harry,” she kept going, cutting off anything the boy was going to say. “All the fighting, the rivalry, the jealousy, a cover for your hormones and lust.”
“You’re mad, absolutely mad. Everyone here is mad,” Harry stated quietly.
“And as for Malfoy calling it quits - Mmm, no, I don’t think that’s going to happen, Harry. No doubt he’ll be rather possessive. I do hope you’re ready for that.”
“That’s not what I want. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want Malfoy!”
“Well, I’m guessing he wants you, Harry Potter,” Hermione stated simply.
“Why do you say that?” Harry sighed.
“Because he’s stalking this way, and he looks rather ‘pissed-off’,” she stated eloquently enough.
‘My room, after lunch, and don’tlatelate, Potter.’
He could hear the words clear as day in his head at that moment. “Oh God.”
Harry shot out of his chair in a bit of a panic. Malfoy looked, really, really, pissed off. More-so than he had seen him be in a while. “I- I- forgot,” he stammered feeling like a total idiot and upset with himself for even offering up an apology that het wat wasn’t even owed to the other boy.
“I noticed!” Malfoy glared, grabbing the other boy by the hood of his cloak and dragging him backwards, stumbling across the chair. “Sorry Granger, but Potter and I have an appointment so-to-speak. I need to borrow him,” he stated with a snobbish sniff and then proceeded to drag the other boy out of the library without a concern in the world.
“Bye, Harry!” Hermione called out from the distance, with what seemed to have a hint of amusement in it.
Harry allowed himself to be dragged along for a bit before his mind kicked in. “Of all the nerve!” he hollered, and lashed out with his fists, trying to aim one at Draco’s chin.
Draco ducked, all the while holding onto a flailing Harry Potter. He loved a challenge, hell he loved a good fight - even with a lover. It added a whole new dimension to the word ‘relationship’ in his mind. “Potter, don’t be a prat. Either we can do this the easy way or,” he was cut-off as a fist hit his gut, taking the air out of his lungs in one big whoosh. He looked up to see Potter starting to run off down the corridor. “Fine, the hard way it is then,” he stated in a groan.
* * *
To be continued . . .
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