Draco watched with a feeling of vague disgust as Potter and his friends made faces at one another while they waited at the Hogwarts gates for the carriages to Hogsmeade. It was a spring day, warm for even Draco's tastes, considering the season hadn't ended yet and it was not yet appropriate to switch over to spring fashions.

Thus, Draco's hair was curling at the edges where it touched his too hot robe while stupid Potter touched his tongue to his nose in his thin t-shirt and denim trousers and ratty Muggle shoes.

What on Earth were they doing, anyway? They looked well past daft giggling at themselves in their little tightknit group.

Potter curled his tongue into what looked like a clover-like monster as a carriage approached. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to walk toward the arriving carriage with the mish-mash of sixth years he'd gathered with, but as he looked back, Potter was looking at him with a glint in his eye that suggested he'd known who was watching.

Fucking Potter.

Daphne slid across the black leather seat first, and the three Ravenclaws with them crammed into the seat across. Draco was prepared to sprawl in the extra space he and Daphne suddenly had when Goldstein shrugged and leaned out the window.

"We have a sixth spot if anyone cares to join us!"

Draco sat straight up and tugged his robe across himself, begrudgingly scooting closer to Daphne who just pursed her lips and took out a cigarette to prepare for when they passed out of Hogwarts grounds.

"Can I take this seat, then?"

Draco swore inwardly and looked up at Potter, who was brushing a hand through his hair as he ducked through the small door.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

The carriage jolted as the thestrals pulled it toward Hogsmeade, so Potter stuck his stupid tongue at him and sat, leg touching his from knee to hip as he said hello to the Ravenclaws. Goldstein was sitting close to his friend, Boot. He took an electronic device from his pocket and handed part of the two-pronged cord to Boot, and they proceeded to listen to something through it when they passed the gates. Daphne struck up a conversation to her friend across the way as she pushed the window open and lit her cigarette, looking out at the landscape jostling on by.

Which meant, of course, that Draco was stuck with Harry Potter on the fifteen-minute ride in his too hot robes while Potter blabbed with his ridiculously agile tongue at no one in particular.

"What were you all doing, anyway?" Draco finally asked, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Potter.

"I knew you were watching." Potter looked pleased as punch, leaning back against the wood of the carriage and daring to smirk at Draco.

Draco sniffed. "I was appalled, that's what I was."

"We were just having a bit of fun. Don't you ever have fun?"

"Looks like we have a different definition of 'fun,' Potter."

Potter snorted and folded his arms, sprawling like a heathen in his seat and knocking Draco's knee with his leg.

"Maybe. Maybe you don't have fun at all."

Draco sat up.

"Ever."

"I do too have fun!"

"Do you ever laugh?"

That one hurt a little. "Just because I don't enjoy childish games—"

"You seem to like arguing with me well enough." Potter smiled, and then stuck his tongue out again.

Draco pursed his lips.

"Tell you what, if I don't get some reaction out of you by the time we jump out of this carriage, I'll owe you ten galleons."

Draco's eyes widened. Surely Potter didn't have that much money in his pockets?

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," Draco muttered, immediately on edge.

Potter chuckled, his head lolling back against the seat. "Are you surprised?"

Draco held back the urge to laugh. "No," he said finally.

They watched the craggy landscape descend into shallow hills as they got closer to Hogsmeade, and Draco gradually relaxed when Potter seemed to do nothing but make sarcastic remarks and make stupid faces when Draco actually looked him in the eye.

He seemed to be in the clear, imagining how in Merlin's name Potter could manipulate a muscle like that, and what else he'd done with that talent recently, when the carriage slowed to a stop. He tensed when Potter made a sudden movement, but realized soon enough that he'd just opened the door and proceeded to hold it while the Ravenclaws and Daphne clambered out into the sunshine.

Draco let out a sigh of relief, since he'd surely expected one last attempt before having his lunch paid for, and unfolded his legs to follow the others out.

Just as he'd grasped the top of the door for balance, a hand shot out and gripped him around the arm, yanking him quite rudely back into the carriage. Draco found himself on his back in the seat he'd just vacated, with a Gryffindor grinning down at him.

"What are you—?"

Potter just grinned winningly down at Draco before pressing an insistent kiss to Draco's lips.

Draco gasped loudly, too stunned to move, which Potter took to mean, 'Please and thank you!'

Draco was quickly distracted from the indignity of it all, however. It was hard to think about anything, really, with that tongue tracing across the seam of Draco's lips, or grazing the roof of his mouth, or sliding slickly against his own tongue.

Draco couldn't decided whether to be surprised that his fingers had tangled themselves in Potter's rat's nest of hair, one hand threading through the shorter wisps at Potter's temple and the other keeping him firmly in place with a fist of curls at the back of Potter's head.

"Hmm," Potter said.

Draco heartily agreed, although he couldn't tell whether he'd lost the bet… or won something else. It was entirely too taxing to contemplate any scenarios beyond the tantalising and promising slip of Potter's tongue.

And then Potter had to ruin it by speaking actual English against Draco's swollen lips. "You owe me ten galleons," he mumbled contentedly.

Draco extracted himself from Potter's embrace, needing more than ever to take his bloody winter robe off since there was now a veritable swamp inside of it.

"What gave you that idea?"

Potter laughed low in his throat, another reminder of what he'd just been doing, as if the wet redness of his mouth wasn't enough. He leaned in, his nose brushing Draco's cheek, and said, "Do your trousers feel a bit tight, Draco?"

Draco could feel the flush from head to toe, could only close his eyes and pretend for a moment that he'd maintained an ounce of dignity. His cock would have none of it, hard in his trousers and making a bit of a mess, too.

Potter smiled some more, the damned happy git, and pressed a kiss to Draco's neck before retreating into the fresh air of Hogsmeade proper.

"I never agreed to pay you if you succeeded, you do realize," Draco said with a sneer, surreptitiously cleaning the excess sweat and… other things from his person and removing his robes with a flourish.

The breeze felt wonderful on his too hot skin, and Draco decided to let his hair remain frazzled as Potter shook his head at Draco's cleverness.

"You're a cheat," said Potter.

"I was exercising my Slytherin cunning, is all."

Draco watched the laughter transform Potter's face yet again.

"Did you have fun, then?"

Draco shrugged, but his lips twitched when Potter cocked an eyebrow.

"Perhaps I will have to reconsider how different our tastes in entertainment are," offered Draco, ever so diplomatically.

"Perhaps you should." Potter leaned in, and Draco was almost convinced he'd kiss Draco again, but Potter just tucked a stray lock behind Draco's ear and added, "Next time I'll make you laugh."

"It's a bet," Draco replied and smiled. He couldn't help but watch as Potter licked his lips.

"Glad we had this chat, Malfoy. We should do it again sometime."

"Indeed," Draco agreed. Potter winked at Draco, shoving his hands into his pockets and slowly pivoting away. Draco watched dazedly as Potter strolled out of sight, for once looking forward to seeing Potter again.