A/N: Harry and Draco slash; Result of my minds wonderings during a particularly nasty incident where I myself accidentally got trapped in a closet- which was just as ironic then as it is in this fic.
There was something different about making love in the dark. It seemed to free the lovers from any inhibitions they may have had when the candles were lit.
It was for this reason that Harry and Draco, two incredibly self conscious lovers as they were, had begun to make visits to Filch's broom cupboard a regular occurrence in their surreptitious lives.
A familiar muffled voice came from the same cupboard just a few minutes after potions. "Harry… We only just started."
"What..? Oh, no… That's the mop."
"Right." Draco brushed the deceitful appliance to one side, "this is getting ridiculous."
"Getting?" Harry considered rolling his eyes, before realising that, in the dark, only he would be able to appreciate the sarcastic glare.
Draco leaned in closer, his tongue fighting to find Harry's mouth; it received a warm welcome, as the Boy-Who-Lived urged his own to tenderly massage its underside. Growing tired of the 'school boy crush' love making, Harry intensified the kiss, pulling Draco's face in closer to his with his bare hands.
"Christ, Draco." Harry withdrew from the passion, "lay of the wax will you?"
Though he couldn't see it, Harry could tell his young friend was smirking. "It takes a lot to look this good you know."
After a few in-appropriate imaginings of what Draco may actually get up to when in the Slytherin Common Room bathroom, Harry delved back into the kiss. This time keeping his hands as far away from Draco's head as he could wrangle, he toyed with the boys trousers until he could find the zipper.
Slowly pulling down he felt a small, yet welcome bulge beneath Draco's under garments. The discovery only urged him on; he must have been doing something right.
Eventually the pants, too, were down at Draco's knees, and Harry found himself quite exposed, when exactly this had happened, he did not know- nor did he particularly want to.
A rattle of the door handle and the boys knew something was up… This time it was slightly different though. Filch stood in the doorway, the light from the corridor glinting off him like a halo, although there was very little angelic about the situation.
Un-tainted by the whole affair, Filch looked to the wall behind Harry, sighing, "I'm not cleaning that up."
Looking behind him Harry gasped; coming to the realisation Draco had a problem. A sort of early bird problem.
A/N: You like? My beta's are all offline so tell me if there are any REALLY horrible, blatant mistakes.