Author Notes: This story is written in the form of 10 100-word drabbles. It's slash- Harry/Draco.
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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
"I'm deducting points for that," Draco Malfoy drawled, caressing the shining Prefect Badge on his chest. "Weren't you ever told to respect your superiors?"
"You wouldn't dare!" Harry exploded, red splotches appearing on his cheeks. "I only told you not to stand in the middle of the corridor."
"You barrelled straight into me!"
"Oh, sorry; I forgot you were so delicate—"
"I can't believe you're fighting over one house point," Hermione exclaimed, seizing Harry's wand before he had a chance to use it. "Ignore him; he's just trying to get a reaction."
Harry snatched back his wand and seethed.
Harry decided that Sugar Quills should be banned. He would probably be able to convince the Weasley twins to stop selling them. Nobody should be made to watch Malfoy suck and nibble and lick them so languidly, looking sinfully innocent as if…
No, he should most definitely not be having those kinds of thoughts in Potions. About Malfoy. Sucking.
"Mr Potter," Snape said, interrupting his vivid thoughts. "Will you grace us with your answer?"
"I hate Sugar Quills," Harry said, to nobody in particular. The whole class stared at him, except for Malfoy, who curiously glanced down at his quill.
Harry didn't understand why the Slytherins were always touching each other. He might expect it from the happy-go-lucky Hufflepuffs, but the Slytherins were supposed to be too cold and independent to do this kind of thing.
Harry didn't like it. Not in the slightest.
There was no reason for Parkinson to have her grubby paws all over Malfoy when she was asking for the salt shaker; she could have simply asked him. The same goes for Zabini. "Well done" is just as good of praise as a pat on the shoulder.
It's then that Harry realised he was going insane.
During Transfiguration, Harry finally admitted he had a problem. Lately, his thoughts had been filled of nothing but Malfoy in many different poses, from smirking to lying naked on his bed covered with whipped cream. If he didn't do something soon, his mental health would be at risk.
He quickly made up his mind. While everyone else was animating their textbooks, Harry crumpled up his letter and threw it at Malfoy's head.
Mildly irritated, Malfoy opened the letter and began to read. He smirked, and after a moment's hesitation nodded at Harry.
Harry was proud that he remembered to breathe.
Harry wasn't sure how Malfoy would react once he told him. But he definitely didn't expect him to cross the distance between them in a few steps, move his hands to his surprised face and catch Harry's lips with his own.
His tongue swept across Harry's lower lip, inviting it to open and let him. As Harry opened his mouth, Malfoy curled his arm around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Harry moaned as their tongues swept together, slowly at first, teasing, before building up to a breathtaking climax.
Harry might begin to call him Draco now.
Harry found himself being dragged to the nearest empty classroom without explanation. Draco faced him, cheeks unusually flushed and eyes flashing accusingly. "Why'd you kiss Granger?"
"It was only a friendly one on the cheek," Harry protested.
Draco spluttered. "Friendly my arse; a kiss is a kiss. Getting chummy with anyone I should know about behind my back?"
"Of course not!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "And you're a jealous one. You never even said we were in a relationship yet. Not officially, at least.
Draco turned to him, eyes wide. "I thought that was implied."
Harry decided that life was good.
"So you don't think Malfoy's changed?" Harry asked, as casually as he could.
Ron snorted. "Slytherins don't just change their evilness overnight, especially him. Honestly, he's going to turn out just like his father."
"He may be a horrible person," Hermione agreed slowly, "but everyone's noticed that he became good-looking. The girls are all over him. Apparently Lavender fancied him since the summer, but hasn't had any luck."
"He looks like a pointed ferret," Ron snapped, his face now resembling a beetroot.
Harry decided that subtlety was lost on his friends. He cleared his throat.
"I'm going out with him."
"I can't believe you told them!" Draco exclaimed, burying his face in his hands. "I'm ruined."
"At least they're alright with it," Harry said, trying to nudge Draco's head up.
"I didn't even get to see Weasley's face," Draco continued mournfully.
"He only attempted to channel a human tomato. Hermione though, she was speechless for about ten minutes."
"Miracles never cease," Draco muttered, looking up, pouting. "Now, make it up to me?"
Harry angled his face down to meet Draco's lips.
The door swung open. There was a squeal, a bright flash of light, and the door slammed shut again.
Harry sat down to breakfast, Ron and Hermione planted on either side of him. He was used to the stares and giggles, and just attempted to ignore them.
When Neville handed him the Daily Prophet, Harry stared. The front page showed a picture of him and Draco, locked in a passionate kiss.
"Draco," he called across the Hall to the red-faced Draco. "Want to sit with the Gryffindors today?"
Ron grudgingly slid over to make room for him. As if nothing were different, Harry and Draco began to eat their breakfast.
Their hands were clasped together tightly under the table.
"I'm too tired to get back to the dorms," Harry mumbled, yawning widely.
"You can stay here tonight," Draco offered, pointing at his bed. "There's enough room for the two of us."
They took off their shoes and slid in under the covers. "Nox."
"Draco," Harry whispered, and Draco sleepily lifted his head. "I'm cold."
Silently, Draco shifted his body so he was pressed up behind him. Harry sighed at the contact and warmth, and searched for Draco's hand. He entwined their fingers together. Draco's other arm encircled his waist, pulling him closer.
Neither of them wanted to let go.