Inside Your Head

by I'm proud of you

re-added after fixing a spelling mistake or two. Draco is convinced that Harry is trying to psyche him out and Harry's enthusiasm just won't let up! Contains slash. Go easy on me, it's my first fic ever!

Note: I do not own anything whatsoever, at all. Also, it's my first fanfic ever so go easy on me if you decide to give me your opinions.

Draco Malfoy shuffled into thfe classroom with his eyes on his desk and nowhere else. He was nervous and not entirely sure why, but he knew it had something to do with Potter. Potter, his enemy since day one. Potter, the boy who had done away with the Dark Lord. Potter, the arrogant prat whom Draco had never been more aware of than he had been for the past week or so.

He could feel Harry Potter's eyes on him as he took his seat and took out his books, quill, and parchment. There was still ample time before class started; most people were still out in the hallway and the professor hadn't even arrived yet. Draco tried to appear busy but Harry knew better. He approached him, emerald eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Morning Malfoy," Harry said, stopping in front of his desk. Draco took a sharp intake of breath, hoping that Harry didn't notice how startled he was.

"Potter," Malfoy nodded, trying hard not to look at the boy.

"Nice day, isn't it?" Harry babbled, "I always love the springtime, especially since the"

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy cut him off, snapping his head up hoping to appear tough, but instead paying far too much notice to the delicate curve of his jaw line, the planes of his chest through his robes, and the wicked smile that was curling across his lips as he scrutinized Potter's face. He faltered. What did he want?

"I think you know." Harry said, then laughed, "Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been around me lately." Harry put his hands on the desk and lowered himself to eye level with Draco, "You stare. You try not to. You stammer. You try to ignore me, but you've never been more aware of me in your life. You know what you want and I know it too. And you know what I want, so don't bother trying to hide it anymore." Harry leaned over to stroke Draco's face but Draco slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me," he said, though for a brief moment, he was sure he wanted to know what Harry's hands felt like, not only on his face, but everywhere on his body. He shivered and Harry smiled smugly, aware of the bulge that was protruding out of Draco's robes. He licked his lips.

"Sworn enemies," Harry mused, "Don't you get tired of hating me all the time? Hate's a passionate feeling, Malfoy, but you can channel that passion into other things, you know."

He ran his hands through Draco's hair and he didn't pull away now. Harry caressed Draco's face and Draco's eyes closed for a minute, savoring the feel of his calloused hands gently touching the smoothness on his face, neck, and shoulders. Then he snapped out of it.

"Get out of here, Potter. Don't ever touch me again."

Harry chuckled to himself.

"See you later, Malfoy," then as an afterthought, added, "I know I'm looking forward to it."

Draco stared incredulously as Harry walked back to his desk, devious smile still plastered on his face. Draco didn't meet Harry's eyes once throughout the entire lesson, though he could feel Harry's stare piercing him incessantly. Draco did his best to ignore it, but found that his mind kept wandering back to the odd scene that had taken place before class had started; Potter smiling and making conversation, Potter lowering himself down to Draco's level and getting far too close to him, Potter telling Draco not to hide it, Potter knowing what he, what Draco, wanted most; dangling it in front of him and daring him to reach out and take it…

Draco found himself staring at Harry from across the Great Hall at lunch that day. Harry winked at Draco once he noticed him and Draco quickly looked away, a crimson blush creeping into his pale cheeks. He was still trying to make sense of Harry's words and make sense of his own feelings; the idea that Harry the Chosen One Potter, his rival and enemy since age eleven, was possibly coming onto him was so bizarre that it felt unreal. It must have been a trick or something; something Harry was doing to psyche him out. It was certainly working.

Draco tried to clear his thoughts and keep his head straight. He wasn't going to let Harry Potter mess with his brain. He set his logic and reasoning and sensibilities at their highest level to use as defenses against Potter's mind games. Yet in the back of his head, a little voice was half-hoping, half-fearing, What if Potter's not joking?.

A week went by without another word from Potter. Glances were exchanged often. Harry sometimes brushed his fingers against Draco's arm as he walked by him. Harry stared constantly and obviously, causing Draco to feel hyperaware of himself and the blood would rush to his cheeks and oftentimes down to his groin as well. But Harry didn't say a word to Draco and Draco was beginning to get anxious. He was inexplicably relieved when he saw Harry approach him after class one day.

"Miss me?" Harry asked, reaching out to touch him, but Draco instinctively smacked his hand away.

"Fat chance," Draco said, keeping his eyes down. He didn't want Harry to realize just how happy he was to see him.

"I'm not so sure, Malfoy," Harry said pompously, "I've been watching you. You like when I look at you. You want me to touch you. It's a thrill for you; gets you all hot and bothered and anxious." He paused, "But it makes you more anxious when I'm not around. I've seen it. You get so fidgety when you think I'm not looking."

"I know what you want." Harry said again, "Believe me, I know better than anybody. And I'm going to keep watching you, Malfoy. I'm going to get inside your head. You're going to think about me tonight. You're going to think about me tomorrow. I'll be on your mind all the time. It's going to drive you mad, Draco Malfoy."

Draco didn't say anything. The idea of Harry being inside him in any sense sent a delicate shiver down his spine. Harry chuckled.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, his crazed expression softening and his voice dropping down to a low murmur, "I know what you want, Malfoy. You're going to give in sooner or later."

Harry leaned in to Draco, sliding a finger up and down his chest. His green eyes burned holes into Draco's, making Draco feel awfully exposed as he felt himself stiffen. Harry smiled.

"But until then," said Harry, resting his hand briefly on Draco's crotch, "just remember that I'm inside your head. All the time."

Harry winked at Draco again and then walked away, leaving Draco confused and restless. He went back down to his dormitory and paced the common room for a few moments, before finally deciding to grab his towel and head to the prefect's bathroom. A hot bath in that tub could make anybody feel better, and so Draco Malfoy submerged himself in the water for a nice long think.

It wasn't very long before Draco's thoughts turned to Harry and he again tried to decipher the boy's motives and meanings. Harry had even touched him, felt him. Surely he wouldn't have gone that far if he didn't mean any of it? He wouldn't risk his reputation that way. Besides, he was so confident about it, so manic. His eyes lit up like a crazy person's when he looked at Draco; a predator watching his prey. And yet, Draco liked the way that Harry looked at him. It unnerved him and scared him, but it thrilled him and excited him too. He liked knowing that Harry was watching and whenever Harry's attentions were elsewhere, Draco found himself wanting Harry to look at him. The very thought of it then made Draco begin to touch himself very gently in the water. He tried to fight it at first, but since nobody was around, Draco closed his eyes and let the images of Harry's face and body drift through his head, keeping his voice down to a whisper just in case anyone had been close enough to hear him utter Harry's name.

A letter dropped onto Draco's plate when the owls delivered the mail on the morning of the Quidditch match. It wasn't addressed to anybody, nor was it sealed or signed. Draco unrolled the bit of nondescript parchment and read the words scrawled messily in ink. You're looking good today… See you at the party tonight?

Draco immediately glanced over at Harry, who was watching him over the rim of his coffee cup. Draco had been planning on going to the party long before any of this Potter nonsense had started, but he hadn't factored in the idea that Harry would be going too. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Harry would be going! He'd gone to all the other ones after all, and this was the party for the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.

The older students were long past their prejudices when it came to houses and even when it came to Quidditch. Sure, they all routed for their own house teams and sometimes things got heated when the match was going on, but afterwards, later on at night, students from all houses gathered in the Room of Requirement to celebrate one team's victory and toast to the losing opponent's defeat. These nights were always had with good fun and tons of alcohol. More often than not, things got out of hand. People wound up puking; others did dirty deeds in dark corners, and most drank happily and danced drunkenly up against one another. Potter was usually in the middle of all of it making a spectacle of himself, and Draco was usually irked at what an attention whore he was. Potter would no doubt ignore him tonight, no matter what the outcome of the match was. He could imagine it perfectly: Draco, sitting with his friends stealing longing glances at Harry while Harry admired himself in the spotlight with Ginny or Romilda or whoever wound up getting to him first hanging on his arm like a trophy; Draco getting another drink from the bar while Potter grinded up on anything that had a pulse. It disgusted him. He looked back at Harry, who was still waiting for an answer. He sighed and turned his note over, scribbling "Yes" on the other side of the parchment and tying it back to Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl promptly flew over to Harry, who tore at the note vigorously, smiling at Draco's curt response. Harry looked back at Draco and mouthed the words "Good luck" from across the Great Hall.

Draco marched out onto the Quidditch field with confidence as Madame Hooch reminded the Gryffindors and Syltherins to play fairly. He watched Harry mount his broom, grasping the wooden handle in his hand, eyeing Draco surreptitiously. The whistle blew and Draco shot upwards, his legs tightening around his broomstick, lying flat against the polished wood as he flew. It was a rather windy day and Draco had a time trying to keep his broom still between his legs, but that was fine because Potter had said he looked good. Whether or not he was just trying to psyche out Draco for the match, Draco didn't care. It still meant that Harry was looking at him, thinking about him…

Draco enjoyed Quidditch matches against Harry. Draco appreciated Harry's skill and natural talent. He liked to remember the first time he ever saw Potter on a broom, the first time Potter ever was on a broom. They had been high up in the air, and Potter had suggested that Malfoy was scared of him! Well, that much was laughable, though he couldn't deny how much he admired, even then, Potter's lithe, slender body and the way it worked as he moved with his broom…

And that's when he saw a streak of red whip by him. Harry must have spotted the Snitch! Draco's broom sped in Harry's direction and he chased Harry around the pitch for a few moments. He himself still hadn't spotted the winged golden ball but Draco trusted Harry to lead him to it. Then, so abruptly that Draco had to veer sharply to the left to avoid crashing into him, Harry stopped short.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" Draco shouted at Harry.

"Get you on your own," Harry said back. They were several hundred feet up in the air. Draco gulped.

"I saw you last night," Harry said.

"What?"

"I saw you. Last night. In the bathroom. I told you I'd be watching."

Draco tried to appear outraged and disgusted and began prattling on about privacy and stalking but Potter still smiled like a madman, his eyes wide.

"Have a nice wank then?" Harry asked, now circling around him. He flew almost too close to Draco, right up beside him. Reaching over to slide his hand along the shaft of Draco Malfoy's Nimbus 2001, he asked quietly, "Did you think of me?"

Draco glared at Harry and Harry's lips curled into a devious smirk.

"Bet you did," Harry mused, "Told you I'd get inside your head, Draco Malfoy. But don't worry." Harry slid his hand closer to Draco, "You're inside mine."

And then Draco saw it, a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled around and raced after it before Potter could even register the thought. Potter was behind him trying to catch up, but Draco pushed his broom to go faster and sped away. Hope he enjoys the view, Draco laughed in his own head. Arms outstretched, he leaned forward just a little bit more, and his hand enclosed around the tiny golden ball, bringing the game to an end. Cheers erupted from the stands and the Slytherin team crowded around Draco and celebrated.

Draco hung back for a moment while the rest of the teams went into the locker rooms. Smiling to himself, he watched the stands for a moment as the crowds emptied out of them. It was Potter, of course, who snapped Draco out of his little trance.

"Good hustle out there, Draco." He said, coming up from behind him and smacking his ass, sportsmanlike.

"Don't touch me, Potter." Draco said automatically.

"Shower up, gorgeous." Harry said, ignoring Draco's comment, "We've got a party to go to, and you're the star tonight. Save me a dance?"

"In your dreams," Draco snorted.

Harry laughed but said nothing, and turned back into the locker rooms, heading toward the showers, taking off his shirt as he went. Draco looked onward, sighed, and made his way into the Slytherin changing rooms to shower and ready himself for the night.

Draco was already five shots in when he saw Harry making his grand entrance to the Room of Requirement. Most of the people in the room were belligerently drunk already and Harry seemed like he had a fairly decent buzz going, so Draco sat back and waited for the boy to approach him. Harry was taking his time though. He made his rounds saying hello to his friends and acquaintances and took a shot that somebody offered him. His friends cheered for him, and Potter acknowledged his little victory like a champ, hitting the shot glass back down on the table with emphasis. Draco smiled at Potter's outlandish behavior. They did another shot, and then Harry went and grabbed a beer and sat down on a couch on the opposite side of the room. This confused Draco. Why hadn't Harry gone over to him yet? Why wasn't Harry watching Draco? He couldn't stand it.

When Fred and George took out their bongs, the whole room seemed to join together in a wide circle. This tended to be everyone's favorite part of the night, traditionally called the Friendship Circle. Everyone took out their pieces and pitched in whatever they had, and the students of Hogwarts blazed together in unison, passing multiple bowls, pipes, bongs, joints, and blunts around the whole circle, filling them with the warm, tranquil sensations of a good high in a friendly environment with some sweet tunes and good company. Rivalries didn't matter once everyone was this far gone. And so Draco finally saw Harry notice him from across the circle, staring at Draco as he took a long hit from Seamus's bowl. Harry had opened another beer for himself and inclined his head towards Draco; his drink half-raised in what appeared to be a toast to him, a here's-to-looking-at-you-kid kind of gesture. Draco nodded back at him, a small smile appearing on his lips. Potter had acknowledged Draco, which meant that Draco could finally relax. He felt himself ease into his own skin as he took a long drag from a blunt that was passed to him.

The weed ran out and eventually the circle began to split into groups. Many returned to the dance floor. Some stood in clusters and sipped their drinks slowly, some drifted to the bar, some sat on couches, and some made out in dark corners. Draco practically had to step over the entangled mass that was Weasley and the Granger chick as he returned to his group from the bar with another round of shots of Firewhiskey. Several more people had joined their cluster, Harry included. He squeezed himself next to Draco when the circle formed and everyone took a shot. His hand was on Draco's elbow and he found himself looking him directly in the eyes. Draco's mouth fell open. Harry smiled confidently.

"What do you say, Draco?" Harry said quietly, "Fancy a dance?"

Draco looked at his friends and then out onto the dance floor. His friends would be too drunk to notice that he was missing and the dance floor was too crowded for anybody to care. Draco accepted his request.

"Alright, Potter; just one dance."

Harry grabbed Draco's forearm and led him playfully out to the dance floor, immersing themselves deep into the throng of people. Harry pulled Draco into him by the collar of his shirt and threw an arm around his neck. Draco was hesitant as he put his arms around Harry's waist, but they began to move together with surprising ease to the rhythm of the music. Draco found himself pulling Harry closer, and soon they were pressed up against each other, now moving as one. Harry buried his face into Draco's neck and Draco shivered a bit, brushing his fingers against the small of Harry's back. They continued to move together in this manner for quite some time until finally the heat between them and around them became unbearable.

"Shall we get some air?" Draco had barely begun to ask when Harry grabbed Draco's hand.

The two pushed their way through the thick, ever-moving crowd. Draco threw Harry's hand down once they'd emerged, and Harry grabbed a bottle of rum that was perched atop a tray that was floating, unaccompanied by a body, passing in the other direction. Harry looked back and grinned wryly and wildly at Draco, making sure he hadn't gotten lost in the crowd as they made their way outside to the balcony. Draco's stomach fluttered excitedly as Harry took a swig from the bottle and then offered it to Draco. He took a hearty gulp and it burned a little going down but Draco didn't notice.

Harry was surveying him up and down. He smiled; seemingly much more subdued knowing that he was away from the energy of the party and all of those people. This wasn't a bad thing; Draco was looking forward to some honest time alone with Harry while both of their defenses were lowered. He wondered whether or not he should be the first to say something. Harry seemed content with the silence, so Draco cleared his throat and then took another drink of rum. Finally, Harry spoke.

"That was a good game today," Harry said, taking the bottle from Draco and taking another swig.

"Yeah," Draco agreed. There was no way that Harry would have dragged him out there to talk about Quidditch; not after the way Harry had been acting, and certainly not after the way they had danced together. Draco reverted back to his instincts. He decided to insult Harry.

"Same as usual, though, isn't it?" Draco said with his typical sneer, "I'm off catching the Snitch and you're still eating my dust. You've been slacking, Potter. What's gotten into you?"

"Just caught up with admiring the view," Harry replied matter-of-factly. Draco had nothing to say in response, so he snagged the bottle from Harry and took another sip. Harry chuckled.

"No witty retort, Draco? That's something new." Harry teased.

"Oh shut it, Potter." Draco said, as he tried to playfully punch Harry on the arm, but Harry stopped him by grabbing Draco's wrist. Draco stared at him, shock mingling with curiosity.

"Please," said Harry gently, now rubbing his thumb over Draco's knuckles, "Call me Harry."

Draco felt a warmth spread throughout his body as color flowed into his face. Harry looked down for a moment, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. His eyes returned to Draco's, waiting for a response. He seemed vulnerable and nervous now, no longer displaying the arrogant confidence that had been driving Draco mad.

"Not so cocky now, eh?" Draco said, grinning at the anxiety-ridden Harry Potter that stood before him, "Looks like the tables have turned now."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. Draco found Harry's timid side rather endearing and for the first time since Harry had started acting this way, Draco felt a confident smile play across his own face.

"Face it," Draco said, "You stare. You try not to. But you also like it when I know that you're watching me. It's a thrill for you. Don't deny it." Draco said, "I'm inside your head."

Harry raised his eyebrows but didn't pull away when Draco finally reached out for him.

"Yeah," Harry said, entwining his fingers with Draco's, "You're inside my head. So what?"

"Well you see Harry, it's okay." Draco said, "You're inside mine too."

Draco could still feel Harry smirking when their lips met for the first time. Harry's lips were warm, soft, and compliant as they moved in this slow, tender rhythm with Draco's. Their mouths parted and Harry moved his tongue along Draco's bottom lip, nibbling lightly. Draco kissed back sweetly, sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth, shocked at his own behavior, but more so at how good it felt. He could hardly believe it. After a length of time, Harry pulled away.

"How long have you been waiting for that to happen?" Harry asked.

"It's been a long time coming," Draco admitted.

"How long?" Harry asked again.

Draco smiled then turned his back on Harry, gazing out over the grounds, saying nothing. He felt a little woozy, though whether or not it was from the alcohol, Draco was unsure. The night was clear with a cool breeze that made the canopy branches of the Forbidden Forrest sway lightly. The fresh air cleared his head and he half-hoped that he was making Harry sweat, keeping him at bay like this. He was, however, very wrong.

At once, he felt Harry's warm body pressing up against his back, and he stiffened as Harry's hand found his way to the front of Draco's jeans and gripped tightly onto his cock, which was wide awake and restless beneath his clothes. He could feel Harry's erection spring to life the second their bodies made contact. Draco choked back a whine in his throat.

"Tell me how long." Harry growled in demand.

"I don't know," Draco stuttered, gasping.

"Tell me." Harry whispered, teeth grazing Draco's ear. He shivered, barely able to breathe.

"Tell me Draco," Harry said again, moving his hands along Draco's inner thigh, touching him lightly through his jeans. Draco tried to remember exactly how long he had wanted Harry for, but his thoughts were clouded, obscured by the waves of tingling pleasure that overcame him as Harry worked his mouth and hands, trying to either tease or torture the answer out of him.

"How long?" he hissed again, thrusting his body into Draco, who stifled a moan, unable to think properly under conditions such as these. The booze, the stars, the hands, the mouth, the boy; it was all too much for him. Letting go, Draco heard himself say, without knowing where this answer came from,

"Always."

Harry immediately pulled away from him and now Draco was the vulnerable one again, almost too frightened to look at him. Tentatively, he turned around to survey Harry's expression, which Draco found he couldn't read.

"Harry?"

The dark-haired boy shook his head in disbelief.

"After all these years?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Draco, not knowing where this voice or explanation was coming from. It was news to him, though he supposed he'd known deep down all along, "Since the very first time I saw you in Madame Malkin's. The feeling wasn't strong all the time," he explained, taking a step closer to him, "Sometimes I really believed that I despised you." He chuckled then added, "As if I ever could! But I tried to hide it."

"You hid it well for a long time," Harry mused, reflecting on the past seven years of forced animosity.

"What gave me away?" Draco asked, smiling and resting his elbows on the balcony. Harry joined him and they resumed passing the bottle back and forth between them. He vaguely wondered whether either of them would remember any of this come morning.

"Lucky guess," Harry said, giving him a dazzling smile, "And maybe some wishful thinking."

Draco raised his eyebrows and Harry laughed loudly.

"Don't give me that look, Draco." Said Harry, hitting him playfully, "I thought you knew how I felt about you all along."

"What?"

"Well sure," Harry said, his words beginning to slur together, "Why else would you have been such a prick all the time? Surely it was because you didn't want that Potter faggot anywhere near you."

"No," Draco stammered, "Had I known that you… if I had even the slightest inkling…"

But Draco could say no more, for Harry had closed the distance between them and their lips met once more.

Draco awoke very early the next morning in unfamiliar surroundings. Crimson drapes hung around the bedside as opposed to the green that he had become accustomed to throughout his years in the Slytherin house. Where was he?

It all came back to him when he rolled over and saw the face of Harry Potter sleeping peacefully beside him. Draco looked down at himself, wearing nothing but his boxers. Love-bites marked his chest like little displays of graffiti, all claiming that Harry had been there. He tried to piece together the night in his mind. They had been making out on the balcony and Harry had convinced Draco to go back to the Gryffindor tower with him. Neither of them could walk straight, and it proved to be more difficult under Harry's invisibility cloak, the both of them being as intoxicated as they were. Harry, being a lightweight, stumbled quite a bit, and though Draco had matched Harry shot for shot, he practically had to hold Harry up, helping him to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she had asked once Harry revealed himself.

"I'm way too drunk for this." Harry had responded. She chuckled.

"Fair enough," and she swung open on her hinges to allow them entry.

Though it was Draco's first time in the Gryffindor common room, he did not pay much attention to detail. It was red and there was a fireplace; that much he had noticed. But Harry had led him up to the dormitory straight away, stumbling to a water cooler on the far side of the room and pouring himself and Draco each a cup.

"Drink up," Harry had slurred, "I don't want you to be hung-over in the morning."

And then, after casting some Muffliato charms around his four-poster bed, Harry and Draco laid down, drew the curtains, and then they were gone.

Draco came to the conclusion that they hadn't gone anywhere below the belt. He vaguely remembered Harry continuously slurring something about being a gentleman and not wanting to be too easy. The details beyond that were fuzzy but judging by the marks on his chest and the way he felt, it must have been one hell of a night.

For a moment, he reveled in the feeling of waking up next to Harry Potter, but the thought of what was to come once Harry also woke up drove Draco into a panic. What if Harry had only done it because he was drunk? What if he regretted it? Or worse; what if he didn't remember it? The idea of Harry waking up and not knowing why Draco was in his bed or how he had gotten there made him sick with heartache. He didn't want to be Harry Potter's drunken mistake. Quickly, quietly, and careful not to jostle the sleeping boy beside him, Draco removed himself from the tangled mass of bed sheets and got dressed, taking one last look at Harry before he snuck out of the Gryffindor tower. He chuckled to himself as he passed the suits of armor on his way down to the dungeons.

Some walk of shame, he thought to himself.

Several Slytherins were asleep in the common room, having passed out before they could reach their dormitories; either too drunk, too lazy, or too immobile to climb the stairs. He vaguely wondered how many people were still in the Room of Requirement as he tip-toed across the common room to his dormitory to nap out the rest of the morning inconspicuously, smiling into his pillows as he drifted off to sleep.

The residents of the castle began to stir in the early afternoon, making their way down to the Great Hall in subdued clusters. Many students sported hangovers. Some had hoarse voices. Padma Patil arrived in the same slutty outfit that she had worn the previous night with a disheveled looking Justin Finch-Fletchley at her side.

Draco sat reading the Dailey Prophet, sipping his coffee when Harry approached him at the Slytherin table, a bold move on his behalf. He looked sleepy in his pajamas; pajamas that he hadn't been wearing last night.

"Morning Harry," Draco said, nodding at the boy, trying to appear nonchalant. Harry, however, was not in the mood for small talk. He got right to the point without even sitting down.

"You could have at least said goodbye." Harry said through gritted teeth, looking dejected, "That wasn't fair, Malfoy." He spat Draco's last name as though it tasted bad.

"I wasn't sure if you would have wanted to wake up to me," Draco explained, then added after a moment's pause, "or if you would have remembered last night."

Harry's stubbornly hurt expression broke out into a smile.

"I was pretty drunk, wasn't I?" Harry said, with a winsome smile on his face as his mind no doubt drifted to the previous evening's happenings.

"That's an understatement." Draco said and the boys laughed. A brief silence followed, and Harry sat down next to him, worry darting across his face.

"Is something wrong?" Draco asked. Harry took a breath to steady himself, looking down.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, "Never even kissed a bloke before you. I don't know what happens next. Are we supposed to talk about last night?"

"You got me, Potter." Draco said, and Harry flinched, the hurt expression paining his face again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's…" Harry stuttered with a deep blush setting in on his face. In a small voice, he said, "It's just; I hoped I'd still be Harry to you after last night."

Harry noticed that Draco kept looking around, checking to make sure that nobody was listening.

"Embarrassed, Draco? I'll get out of your way then. Don't want anyone to get suspicious." Harry Potter snapped at him, "It might ruin your reputation."

"It's not like that, Harry." Draco said, worried that he'd hurt the boy's feelings. But Harry winked at him as he left, leaving Draco baffled as usual. Was Potter just screwing with his head again?

Draco lied awake in bed the entire night, reflecting upon the events that had transpired that weekend, trying to make sense of them. He found Potter's drastic, extreme, sudden changes in mood bewildering, annoying, and though he hated to admit it, fascinating and exciting. If anything, Harry was keeping him on his toes and though it drove him mad with frustration, Draco found himself craning his neck across the Great Hall on Monday morning, waiting for Harry Potter to come down for breakfast.

Harry entered the Great Hall just as the morning post arrived; dozens of owls fluttering in with letters, newspapers, and parcels. A familiar snowy owl landed in front of Draco's plate, her leg sticking out, waiting for him to untie the note. He reached out timidly and retrieved the parchment, daring a glance over at Harry, who was now staring intently at Draco over his goblet of pumpkin juice. Draco read.

There's a trip to Hogsmeade this Saturday. Why don't we try going on a date or something? I think we can make this work. What do you say?

Draco felt his jaw drop in astonishment. What was it with this boy? His persistence just wouldn't let up. This made Draco feel giddy. Harry wanted what happened between them to continue. He grabbed his quill and scribbled back, trying to sound as offhand as possible,

I guess dinner wouldn't be so bad. What time?

And so they arranged their date through the passing of notes via owl or by hand in class, keeping up their correspondence late into the week, though all the plans were made. Draco somewhat enjoyed the fact that they were only communicating through written word, though they shared several classes and had multiple opportunities for conversation. The whole idea of it screamed Potter; his flair for the dramatics seeping from every ink-stained note. The letters themselves spanned an entire spectrum of emotions and the conversation varied from helping with each other's homework to family problems to flirting to Quidditch to insulting each other to talking about their dreams, their past, and the strange relationship they'd held up since they were eleven. One night, Potter awoke to a light tapping on the window from Draco's impressive eagle owl. It read in playful banter,

Never thought I'd be going on a date with Harry Potter. Kind of hard to believe, isn't it? You sure you want to do this?

Another time, when Draco seemed preoccupied at lunch, Harry wrote him a note asking if he was okay. Another time, Harry asked him for advice on how to deal with a problem. Another time, Draco asked what the Muggle world was really like. They got to know each other throughout the week by means of this written relationship and it suited them nicely. Draco found himself in the common room late Friday night, unable to sleep from anticipation, re-reading the letter that he had received from Harry that day for the sixth time.

Morning Draco,

Hope you slept okay. Sorry that I didn't get to write back sooner. Yeah, everything's fine here in Potterworld. Ron and Hermione are in some sort of stupid fight again, but that's nothing new.

There's talk of having another party in the Room of Requirement next weekend. You want to go with me?

Harry

P.S. can't wait till tomorrow

Draco of course had written back to Harry; a short response of five words and his scrawl of a signature. Though the anticipation for tomorrow's date and the prospect of another one in the near future sent spasms of joy throughout his being, Draco tried hard to conceal just how eager he was. His thoughts had been filled with nothing but Harry Potter for weeks and he didn't want to let it show too much.

I'm in. Can't wait either.

He kept the note in his pocket like a talisman the next day as he readied himself for his date with Potter. His fellow Slytherins recognized Draco's mannerisms and actions as he puttered around the Slytherin dormitory and common room and wondered aloud who Draco's date was. Draco feigned ignorance, swearing that he didn't know what they were talking about.

"Oh come on, Drake," Pansy Parkinson whined as Draco continued to check his reflection in a mirror.

"Seriously," Blaise Zabini chimed in, "Don't play dumb. We know you too well. You're going on a date."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about," Draco said, a wicked smile forming across his lips, "I have no engagement tonight whatsoever."

"Don't be stupid," Pansy said. She had remained a surprisingly good friend after they had broken up two years ago, "You're wearing your special cologne and everything. We're not retarded, you know."

"Just tell us, man." Blaise said. Draco popped a breath mint into his mouth and grabbed his black blazer off the back of one of the high-backed armchairs.

"I'm leaving now," he said with finality, "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye Draco," Pansy called after him, "Have fun."

He gave them a parting smile, and then left the dungeons entirely, making his way up to the front entrance to the castle where a vision in glasses stood, waiting for him. Harry looked utterly breathtaking in his dark jeans, white shirt tucked in, and unbuttoned grey shirt. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently and expectantly, all the while taking in Draco Malfoy's appearance. His green T-shirt clung to his chest and the black blazer fit well over it. Harry's eyes lit up as he smiled and greeted Draco. They began to walk together and Harry threw an arm over his shoulder like an old friend would. Draco was astonished at how comfortable Harry was with him already; how used to the idea Harry seemed; the thought of the two of them together out in the open, like it made sense for them to be with each other, Harry chatting away happily as they walked along…

And indeed, it induced the stares of the various Hogwarts students they passed in the Village of Hogsmeade. Draco wondered why Harry didn't care that the students were reacting to and discussing their strange newfound camaraderie. There was something different about this pair of boys that their peers couldn't quite place their fingers on; something tender, kind, shy, and a little deeper than they were letting on. The students wondered vaguely as they went on with their business, When did Potter and the Malfoy kid become friends?

Harry and Draco sipped their wine in a restaurant across town, having no difficulty finding conversation. Harry radiated joy and beauty from all over him. As he leaned back in his chair, his eyes shone as he grinned and blushed, his dimples accenting his perfect face. The lighting was low and some soft jazz could be heard coming from the piano on the other side of the room. They were reminiscing on their earlier years from a different perspective now.

"Do you remember the duel in our second year?" Harry asked Draco, laughing adoringly.

"The one in Lockheart's Dueling Club?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "and the stupid spells you used on me. Seriously Draco, a Tickling Charm? And you didn't want people to think you were into me?"

Draco laughed too now, shaking his head at how foolish they'd both been.

"That was the night I found out that I could talk to snakes." Harry mused, "After you'd set that bloody serpent on me, of course." Draco sighed.

"I am sorry about that, you know." He said.

"Don't be," replied Potter, "I wasn't scared."

"Oh that's right, you're a Gryffindor. You're not afraid of anything."

Harry smiled devilishly and looked away, taking another sip of his wine. Draco's features seemed so exotic. The warm, dim lighting reflected its fiery hues onto his pale hair and skin. Potter hadn't felt so real, so alive in such a long time. He didn't need to fake it with Draco the way he faked it with the rest of the world. It was as if he was seeing color for the first time, such did his world feel brightened. And Draco's warmth, tinted amber from the lighting in the room, crept into Harry's soul and left a burning trail across his heart.

Even as they left the restaurant, Draco couldn't take his eyes off of him. Harry had insisted on paying, and now they were walking through the quaint, emptying streets of Hogsmeade; their fingers interlaced. Draco couldn't help but notice how excruciatingly right it felt to have Potter this close to him. Potter, the boy he had tortured and tormented every chance he had for seven years; Potter, the obnoxious git who outshone him in everything; Potter, who had stopped walking and was now kissing Draco Malfoy very slowly and very sweetly beneath the cover of shadows that the night had left them with.

"It wouldn't have to be a secret, you know." Potter said, breaking away from Draco's lips and moving to leave a fresh trail of kisses down his neck.

"What wouldn't?" asked Draco, throwing his head skyward, barely able to pay attention.

"You and me," Harry murmured into his ear, grazing his teeth against Draco's earlobe. Draco shivered, hoping his ears weren't deceiving him.

"You and me?" Draco repeated and Harry pulled away, looking him in the eyes, assessing his reaction.

"I think we have something here," Harry said, stroking Draco's face. He leaned into Harry's touch; his cool hands felt nice on his white hot skin.

"I suppose we do," Draco agreed, still nervous. Harry sighed.

"Look, this is new for me too. I've never done this before. But it's obvious that something's always been there, otherwise we wouldn't have been at each other's throats the way we were." Harry paused, waiting for Draco to interrupt, but he remained silent, waiting for Harry to go on. He continued with enthusiasm, "And the feelings are so intense now, Draco, and this," he motioned to their hands, which were laced tenderly together, "feels right. How can I pass it up? You were made for me."

Draco felt overcome with emotion; raw and real, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Not wanting to give himself away completely, he just smiled, kissed Potter lightly on the lips and said,

"I guess it would be nice to not have to pretend I hate you all the time."

Harry laughed and threw his arms around Draco, pulling him closer. He kissed his cheek adoringly and began to lead him back up to the castle.

"So what does this mean?" Draco asked, once they had reached the dungeons. They stood facing each other outside of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, "Where do we stand?"

Harry thought for a moment, his eyes resting briefly on Draco's features; his white-blond hair, his dancing grey eyes, his pointed chin, his hopeful smile, his soft lips. Harry took the leap.

"Well, call it whatever you want, but I'm yours, Draco. I can be your boyfriend, or I can be your secret. The rest is up to you."

"I'm sorry," Draco began and Harry immediately looked crestfallen, but smiled once Draco continued, "But I'm an all or nothing kind of guy, Harry Potter. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

Harry gasped in delight and his lips found Draco's once more. His mouth was ecstatic, moving against Draco's in a way that was unnerving and exciting to him.

"We're going to turn a lot of heads tomorrow," Draco muttered and Harry laughed.

"Just you wait," he replied, "Tomorrow, they won't know what hit them."

Their lips met once more, and Potter bade him goodnight; their plans for the next morning ready to be put into action. Draco sighed and smiled, entering the common room with a newfound lightness of heart.

"He's back!" Pansy had announced to the entire room once Draco had returned, "And he looks properly snogged too!"

At once, his friends began to crowd around him, pressing for information, but Draco refused to answer their questions.

"Come on, Draco, who's the lucky lady?" Goyle asked.

"Beats me," shrugged Draco, then added for fun, "But whoever they are, they have me as a boyfriend now, and I'll be eating breakfast with them tomorrow, so I suppose you'll find out then."

"I heard Hannah Abbott saying that she saw you out with Potter tonight," Pansy accused. Draco stared at her.

"Well, what do you think, Parkinson?" Draco said sarcastically, reminding her how obvious his and Potter's disdain for each other was, or at least had been, since they were eleven years old.

"You're right," Pansy said, looking comforted, "I knew she was delusional."

Harry faced a similar inquisition when he arrived in the Gryffindor common room. He bounded in, bringing his whirlwind energy and infectious joy with him as he made haste for his bedroom. Hermione called his name, giggling,
"What's got you so happy, Harry?" she asked, looking up from her knitting. Ron was sitting next to her, playing chess with Ginny. Her rook had just taken one of his pawns.

"Just got back from a date," Harry said, putting his slippers on and sitting himself down in an armchair opposite of Hermione. He curled his legs beneath him and watched Hermione's needles flash.

"I'm guessing it went well then?" Ron asked, looking up from his game.

"Fantastic, mate." Harry exclaimed, "We really connected. Hell, I think I'm in love!"

"After just one date?" Ginny asked skeptically, "Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself?"

"I agree with Ginny," Hermione said, "Harry, you know how you get a bit theatrical sometimes? Don't you think that you're exaggerating a little bit?"

Harry laughed.

"This isn't like that," He urged, "This one's been a long time coming. You'll see."

"Who is it then?" Dean Thomas asked, sitting on the couch and joining their conversation. His friends waited eagerly for his answer, but Harry just smiled.

"You'll just have to wait till tomorrow to find out."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Like I said, theatrical."

"You ready?" Harry asked him as they neared the entrance to the Great Hall on Sunday morning. His calm demeanor showed absolutely no signs of anxiety or nerves; just his usual confidence spiked with a shot of excitement that made him walk and talk with extra gusto. Draco smiled, nervous for this bold leap they were about to take. Draco had imagined coming out of the closet only once, and what he saw in his head was a much quieter affair, maybe over dinner with his parents, or a secret confession to a close friend. He should have expected Potter's Go Big or Go Home attitude. How typical of Harry, making a show out of everything he did, parading around his choices for the whole world to see…

Draco perked up a tiny bit inside when he registered the last bit of his thought. Draco was the choice that Harry wanted the world to see, and that realization made him glow on the inside, which radiated to the outside as Harry slinked his arm around his waist. As if reading Draco's thoughts, he said,

"Draco, I'm very, very sure about you. About us. Whatever reaction we get in there won't change a thing for me, you got that?"

Draco nodded, grasping onto his hand as they entered the Great Hall. The conversation around them slowly died down as people began to notice them. Hushed whispers began to break out when Harry, deciding that his peers needed the confirmation, kissed Draco very sweetly on the lips, holding him there for several seconds, before taking his place dutifully at the Slytherin table, stealing an apologetic glance at Ron and Hermione from across the room. Their expressions were naturally puzzled and perplexed, but Hermione gave him a small smile and shook her head benevolently, her sign of approval. Ron just shrugged and went back to his meal. They both knew that Malfoy had changed. They didn't have to love him, but that didn't mean that Harry couldn't…

"This is who you're in a relationship with?" Pansy barked. She didn't even bother questioning when Draco had decided to start liking men; she only registered the fact that it was Harry fucking Potter, the enemy that Draco had hated for as long as she knew them.

"I didn't even know you were gay," said Zabini, trying to cover up Pansy's disgust. He reached out a hand of diplomacy and offered it to Harry, "It's nice to have you here, Harry."

"Thanks Blaise, it's nice to be here." Harry said, accepting his hand warmly. He was happy; this was going much better than either of them had hoped. Maybe the war had changed everyone's perspectives. Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice and bit into a piece of toast.

"So how did this all come about then?" Pansy asked, having regained her calm. Draco faltered. What was he supposed to say; that he'd loved Harry all along? That drugs and alcohol had gotten the better of them? That Harry had coerced his way into Draco's head, but then found his way immediately into his heart? None of these answers sounded right.

"Rivalries aren't entirely made up of animosity," Harry explained, saving him, "I'd always admired Draco when we were younger, even if he was a bit of a prick." He turned to Draco and said, "Sorry, but you really were a prick." He continued, "For me, there's always been something there. Besides, the war is over, and there aren't sides anymore. Any of the Room of Requirement parties could show you that. So I gave it a shot and it worked out in my favor. Now I'm really looking forward to seeing where this goes."

It was so like Harry to give such a detailed and honest answer to someone who didn't deserve one. As the conversation turned to trivial daily matters, Draco hoped that Harry took his silent looks as ones of gratitude. He watched in awe as Harry charmed his friends, adding to the conversation as if they'd always been close; as if there was nothing out of the ordinary for two mortal enemies to be enjoying their breakfast side by side. But maybe Harry had been right; maybe there were no sides anymore now that Voldemort was gone. Maybe Gryffindor and Slytherin could not only co-exist peacefully, but could become friends, and this was the first step towards bringing them together. Draco looked around. Some people were still watching them, waiting for a fight to break out, but Harry just smiled and laughed with Draco's housemates, chatting as though they too had been friends for a long, long time. It's no wonder why everybody loves him, Draco thought to himself, He's so easy to get along with. How could we have hated each other for so long? Harry, as though he hearing Draco's thoughts, looked back at him and smiled. Draco reached over and ruffled Harry's hair.

By the time Saturday rolled around again, the shock of Harry and Draco's newfound relationship had worn off. Like Draco had predicted, they had set an example, and upon arriving at the party in the Room of Requirement, he found the Gryffindors and the Slytherins already mingling together, sitting around on the couches, drinking and talking lively and laughing and actually enjoying the company. And there was Harry, in the middle of it all, orchestrating the entire thing as if the only reason this was happening was because he had willed it to. He spotted Draco before anyone else did, and his greeting smile brightened up the room.

"You look good," Harry said, giving Draco the once over as he made room for him on the couch. They kissed briefly and Harry passed him a shot. It burned going down and Harry handed him a second one.

"You need to catch up to us," Harry explained, already a little tipsy. He tried to give Draco a third, but Draco shook his head, feeling relaxed and at ease. He took out a pipe that was shaped like a serpent and packed it, offering it to Harry. Harry accepted and took out his lighter, blowing the smoke into Draco's face. They shared it with Blaise and Goyle and Ron and it didn't last very long (The Friendship Circle would not begin until much later), but it gave their buzzes a new sort of edge. Harry had scooted closer to Draco, leaning against his side and Draco had put an arm around his shoulders. Everyone was laughing and a few Hufflepuffs had joined them too. This all felt right to him, though he never imagined it possible.

"Hey Malfoy," Ron called from across the room, and there was a halt in the conversation. Ron had been the coldest towards Draco out of all of Harry's friends this week, but surely Ron wouldn't start a fight now? Not here, when everyone was having such a good time. Malfoy tread carefully.

"Yes, Weasley?" He looked over the back of the couch in Ron's direction. He wasn't going to start a fight if he didn't have to, but he wasn't about to get suckered into one. Ron's demeanor, however, appeared calm and friendly, though maybe a little forced. Hermione was standing beside him.

"Fancy a game of beer pong?" Ron asked him, "Me and Hermione against you and Harry?"

And so the merriment continued on and the party gradually became more intense. There were various drinking games, there was dancing, and the Friendship Circle took its course. The good graces between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were infectious, and soon enough, even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had joined in this new sort of treaty. Peace and unity had enveloped the school, and they all had the Potter-Malfoy relationship to thank.

Not allowing themselves to get as intoxicated as they had been at the last party, Harry and Draco stumbled out of the Room of Requirement sometime after one-thirty a.m. Harry had led him up to the Gryffindor tower, with a simple "Stay with me," as Draco's prompt to follow him. He found himself in Harry's bed once more.

There was no way around admitting that Harry Potter was breathtakingly beautiful. His body shocked him, stunning Draco into a deep and reverent silence. Though Harry was just as taken with Draco, he mouthed off at him playfully, ruffling his hair and covering his neck with kisses as the two boys twisted together beneath the sheets.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, bending over him and kissing down the smooth planes of his chest, to his stomach, and back up again, "Cat got your tongue? Or is it something else?"

Harry continued to taunt and tease him verbally, all the while driving him insane with his mouth and hands and body.

"You want me," Harry whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down Draco's spine.

"Better yet," Harry continued, as they tangled themselves together, "You love me. You can't stop thinking about me. You need me, Draco Malfoy. I'm inside your head."

This was something Draco could not deny. Harry Potter; annoyance for nearly a decade, savior of the Wizarding World, and light of his life, was inside Draco Malfoy's head, and was now filling every facet of his heart.

"It's true," Draco breathed and he saw Harry's emerald eyes sparkle before he buried his face into Draco's neck once more. Heart pounding and head swimming, Draco let go of his inhibitions and gave himself over to Potter completely. Gasping and moaning, the two of them drew the curtains around Harry's four-poster bed and submitted to the disheveled bed sheets once more.

"Muffliato!" whispered one of them.

And they were gone.