A/N: Oh joys. Some anti-slash lover out there decided they didn't like Spellbound and reported it. The administration decided that some of the scenes were slightly underrated, so they deleted the entire thing. Sorry guys, but all the reviews are gone. I want to thank those of you who have stuck with me so long, and as a reward, after I finished editing and reposting all the chapters you've seen, you'll get the chapter ten! Whee! I'll post one at a time, one or two a day, so your inbox won't be too overloaded.

The originals will still be posted on my website. Go to my bio page and click the home page link, and you'll get there.

For updates, check my LiveJournal: kickchick214

Read on faithful fans! And chocolate dipped Harry and Dracos to you all!

Harry walked down the corridor in the Ministry of Magic, quickly approaching the door at the end. Grasping the handle, he pulled it open quietly, his heart beating with excitement as he crossed the chamber of spinning doors and walked into the room of prophecies.

Aisle ninety-seven, he thought. I just need to reach aisle ninety-seven.

He reached the row, turned the corner, and came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

Startled, Harry stepped back a couple of paces as Draco turned towards him.

"Potter. What a surprise to see you here," spat Draco, every word dripping with sarcasm.

Harry remained silent, holding Draco's gaze steadily. He wasn't going to let Draco know that he was standing in front of the one prophecy he wanted, he needed.

Draco glided forward, making no noise as he drew face to face with Harry. Draco saw himself reflected in Harry's glasses, his gray eyes locked on Harry's. An evil smile curled around the corners of his lips, sending a flash of malice across his face. Harry reached for his wand in his pocket, but the minute Draco sensed him move, he had his wand out and pointed directly at Harry's forehead.

"Go ahead, Potter. I'm sure I'm no match for Lord Voldemort, but I can put up a fight."

Harry drew out his wand just as Malfoy closed the distance between them, pinning Harry against the wall. He had his and poised directly above the scar. The little smile had turned into a wide grin, and Harry closed his eyes as he saw Draco open his mouth to curse him.

But instead of excruciating pain, nothing happened. In fact, he didn't even hear Draco mutter the words.

All of a sudden, his scar was hurting, not the kind of pain that usually came with sensing Voldemort's emotions, but being... poked?

Harry's hands flew up to his forehead, smacking Hedwig, who was seated on Harry's chest and was nipping his face, trying to wake him up.

"Alright, Alright! I'm up, you bloody bird," muttered Harry as he groped around in the dark for his glasses. He was about to turn on the lamp when he heard laughter outside his window. Crawling over to the sill, Harry saw a figure on a broomstick whiz by, then zoom out of sight over the house. Harry was about to open the window and call out when there was a loud explosion in the kitchen.

"HARRY!"

Harry bolted out of his room, throwing on his robe as he took the stairs two at a time. As he slid into the kitchen, he saw the scattered remains of some sort of packaging strewn over the floor, the shards of glass from the window mixed in with it. And sitting in the middle of it all was a small envelope made of thick parchment.

Harry scooped up the envelope and shoved it in his pocket without looking at the writing. The Dursleys stormed in the next moment, Uncle Vernon as purple as ever and Dudley whimpering loudly behind his shaking mother. All three stared open-mouthed in horror at the scene before them, not believing their eyes.

"What in the world is going on?" seethed Uncle Vernon, turning on Harry. "WHAT DID YOUR BLOODY FRIENDS DO TO MY WINDOW?!"

"My friends? There isn't a trace of magic in the entire thing! It looks like something a Muggle prankster would do," shot back Harry, his eyes flashing.

"DO NOT SAY THE M WORD IN THIS HOUSE!"

"Which one? Magic or muggle?" said Harry grimly, watching as his Uncle' face turned a deeper shade of purple.

"Either! Your ruddy little friends are going to get us all killed! The neighbors will have heard! What are we going to tell them? That the Prime Minister was having a bit of pre-Hallowe'en fun?"

"I told you, it wasn't my friends!" retorted Harry, his patience stretching thin.

"Than who was it?" whispered Uncle Vernon, leaning in to get his face right next to Harry's, suppressed anger hidden in his tone.

"I don't know," Harry managed through clenched teeth. He turned away from Uncle

Vernon and stormed up the stairs, purposely slamming and locking his door a little bit harder than necessary.

Collapsing on the bed from a wave of exhaustion, he stretched his arms over his head and lay there staring at the ceiling. His mind needed a minute to catch up with everything that had happened so quickly. The dream was nothing new- ever since the battle at the Ministry at the end of his fifth year, he'd been having different versions of the dream. Some times Luna Lovegood would be handing out free copies of The Quibbler in exchange for giving the prophecy to Voldemort, sometimes Ron and Hermione would try to drag him out of the room and into the room with brains, and sometimes Cho would stand there and cry in the room of spinning doors, but the doors would never stop spinning.

The laughing figure on the broomstick was another matter altogether. This wasn't the first time that someone had made an anonymous visit, but it was the first time that they had attacked with anything. Harry had a notion that Malfoy was trying to repay him for revealing his father as a Death Eater by plaguing him throughout the summer, but he hadn't expected to be attacked by his classmates. A Dementor, maybe, but this was a surprise.

Harry reached down into his pocket and drew out the envelope. The only thing written on the outside was his name in a slender, scrawling print. Inside he found a single sheet of paper, once again with very little written on it.

Watch it, Potter. Don't want to end up like your godfather, do you?

Harry froze. Whoever had written the letter knew about Sirius and the curtain, the fight between The Order and the Death Eaters.

Blinking back tears at the thought of Sirius, Harry tore the paper into shreds and tossed them into the bottom of Hedwig's cage. He fell back into the bed, pulling the sheets up as he turned over on his side and stared at the wall. He felt the blanket of deep sleep start to cover him, tearing him away from the real world. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and sat up with a start as something knocked on the window.

Even without any lights on and his glasses askew, Harry could see the pale skin and gray eyes illuminated by the moonlight. Draco tossed his blonde hair out of his face as he gave up knocking and slid the window open, climbed inside and set his broom against the wall.

"Nice pajamas, Potter," he snarled.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" hissed Harry, still stunned.

"I'm sitting down, that's what I'm doing." Draco walked over to the desk and pulled the chair over to Harry's bed, straddling it and resting his head on the back. "So, how's your summer been?"

Harry was about to reply with "What do you think?" when reality hit him. The boy who had tortured and taunted him the past five years, who had stalked him this summer, and who had probably just broken the window in the kitchen was sitting at the foot of the bed, acting as if they were good friends.

"How's my summer been? I've been getting nightly visits from people I don't know-"

"Hope they paid," Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry glared at him and continued. "And for some reason, about three seconds after I see someone flying around my house, someone pulls a Muggle prank and throws something through my kitchen window. I wonder who it could be." Harry glared at Draco, his green eyes flashing.

"And naturally, you think I did it," Draco said in a bored tone.

"Of course I think it was you! Who else would be stupid enough to fly around Muggles just to torment me all summer long?"

"Potter, are you thick enough to think I'd risk my neck- and probably the rest of the wizarding world, too- just to bother you all summer? It would be a thrill," he added to himself with a dry smile. "But if I did, I'd pull something a little more original than an exploding box through a window."

"How'd you know it was an exploding box?" asked Harry, his suspicion growing a bit.

"I've been sitting on the roof for the past half hour waiting for you to wake up. Finally your ruddy bird saw me and tried to get you up, but it took forever."

"Why didn't you just climb in through the window like you did a minute ago?"

"You were sleeping- didn't want you to have a rude awakening. Plus, it's impolite to enter someone's house without being asked."

"When have manners ever stopped you in the past?"

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, then continued. "I saw whoever it was fly up and toss something through the window, and it wasn't too hard to figure out what it was once it exploded."

Harry sat thinking for a moment, than asked, "Why were you sitting on my roof in the first place? It's the middle of summer, and honestly, Privet Drive is not the most delightful vacation spot."

"It's a long story, I'll explain it to you in a minute. Do you have a first aid kit? I left my wand at home, and I need some help." Draco pulled back the collar of his robes, uncovering a deep, bleeding gash that ran from right underneath his collarbone down his side farther than Harry could see. Without saying anything, Harry went and found he first aid kit, knowing exactly where it was from his numerous beatings from Dudley, and came back to find Draco looking a bit paler than usual.

"Uh, your going to have to, uh, take off your, um..." Harry didn't know how to tell Draco that he needed to take off his shirt and robes so that he could clean it without making it sound kinky.

"Potter, I pity your future wife," Draco laughed weakly, shaking his head as he pulled off his shirt.

With the last bit of the gash revealed, Harry saw how bad the cut really was. It extended all the way down to his hip, and looking at the shirt, Harry could see the blood-soaked rip where whatever had sliced Draco open had also ruined his clothes.

"My God, what the hell happened?" Harry exclaimed softly as he started unwrapping pads and bandages.

"It was just a little fight, that's all." Draco winced as Harry starting cleaning out the wound. The blood bubbled and fizzed as the hydrogen peroxide mixed with it, contorting Draco's face into a mask of pain. Harry kept silent, not wanting to push Draco- the other boy seemed to have enough trouble just managing to stand up without having to explain the injury.

Draco drew a sharp intake of breath as Harry began to spread anti-bacterial ointment over the wound. A few minutes and a good supply of tape and gauze pads later, Draco was temporarily treated. Harry made him lie down on the bed; Draco seemed to be getting paler by the minute, and Harry thought he might become transparent if he lost any more blood.

"Muggle healing a bit more painful than it looks, huh?" Harry asked with a half smile. Draco just grunted and stared at the ceiling for a while, for once at a loss for words.

They sat there silently, Harry's mind turning cartwheels with thoughts of flying stalkers and Draco's slashed-open torso. Draco remained motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, shuddering every so often with the pain of breathing. Eventually, the shudders became shivers, and Harry found on oversized old sweatshirt and helped Draco put it on. When Draco was settled back in, seemingly more comfortable, Harry broke the silence.

"Why did you come here?" Harry voiced the question that had been in the forefront of his mind for the past few minutes. "It's a well-known fact that Privet Drive is not adjacent to Malfoy Manor. What about your friends? What about Crabbe and Goyle? Why'd you come to me?"

Draco sighed and looked out the window, trying to decide if he should explain what happened, or if he should just keep his mouth shut and let Harry wonder.

"It's a difficult story to tell," began Draco, shifting his eyes down to the bedspread. His hands were worrying the edge of the sheets, as if trying to iron them. "You know my dad's a Death Eater, there's no denying that now, but you don't know what he's like at home. He's not just another strict dad," Draco confessed, "he's horrible."

Harry watched Draco quietly, not daring to break the other boy's concentration. The expression on Draco's face wasn't fear or anger, but a mixture of both.

"He told me at the beginning of the summer that there would be a surprise for me when came home, and I thought it would be some Dark Arts heirloom that I could fool with. Well, it did have to do with the Dark Arts," Draco said with a wry smile. "Just not the kind I was thinking of.

"I was to be on good behavior all summer- he convinced me that being a little more mature would increase the power of the gift. I believed him. That's why I haven't been torturing you; I've been at home being 'more mature' so I could mess with Dark Magic. Yesterday, he told me that today was when I'd get the present, and I was so excited I didn't even realize what was going on until it was almost too late.

"This morning he was getting ready to take me when he let it slip. 'You'll finally be one of us, Draco. Finally you can be the wizard I've always wanted you to be.' That's what he said."

Draco's voice had dropped to almost a whisper, and Harry was straining to hear him. Both were still for a moment, then Draco buried his head in his hands and sighed.

"I don't want to be a Death Eater," he conceded. "I thought I supported Voldemort, but I can't. He's so ruthless that it's sickening. He even tortures his own followers into submission. It's not worth it. So I told my dad no, that I didn't want to do it, that I wasn't ready. Obviously, he didn't take to that very kindly. I tried to out of there, but my Nimbus 2001 just was fast enough, as you see." Draco took a shuddering breath before continuing. "He hit me with some curse that has the same effects as a sword, which explains the gash. Guess he couldn't bring himself to kill his own kid yet," he finished with a frown, pulling the sheets up over his legs. He had gotten some color back, but he was shivering more than before. Harry grabbed another blanket and handed it him, then sat down at the foot of the bed, right across from Draco.

"And you came to me because?" Harry prompted.

"There was no way that I was going to ask Crabbe and Goyle for help- their fathers are Death Eaters, too. Plus, they're way too stupid, and they would have wanted to know why I turned down the offer. I couldn't go to Weasley- he'd hex me the moment he set eyes on me. I don't know where Hermione lives, so you were my last chance."

"And how'd you know where I live?"

"Easy. Everyone's always talking about the boy wonder who lives on Privet Drive with his Muggle family. And it wasn't too hard to find the house; your's was the only one with a snowy white owl sitting in the window."

Harry glanced over at Hedwig, who was still ruffled at being smacked. Harry smiled and shook his head, then looked at Draco, who was staring at him.

"What?"

"You don't know how lucky you are Potter. You have friends that would die for you in a heartbeat, and entire world full of wizards protecting you, and you only have to spend one season a year with your family."

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Draco. Draco was right; he was lucky. He didn't have everything a sixteen year old boy could ask for, but he did have a lot of things that some people, wizards or Muggles, would never be able to find.

Harry stretched out his hand and let it close over Draco's. Draco look puzzled for a minute, then intertwined his fingers with Harry's. Harry shifted around until he was lying side by side with Draco, their hands clasped between them.

"What about your Uncle?" Draco whispered. "Won't he flip when he finds me here?"

"They won't come in my room. They'll bolt it from the outside and slip food in through the flap, like they usually do when they get mad at me."

They lay placidly, lost in their own thoughts, the mutual silence between them as comfortable as if they had been friends for a long time.

"Thanks, Harry," said Draco softly, closing his eyes and sinking into the mattress.

"Your welcome," replied Harry, who lay thinking for a long time after Draco had fallen asleep.

Draco woke up to find his side didn't hurt quite as badly as it had the night before, but he couldn't feel his arm. Turning over, he realized Harry was sleeping on top of his elbow, preventing him from getting up.

Well, I guess I'll just have to spend the morning in bed with Harry, he thought to himself.

Strangely enough, Draco felt right at home in this small, cramped Muggle room. It was nothing like Malfoy Manor, with peeling walls and a warm wooden floor in place of cold, damp stone. It was a mess, he noticed; Harry didn't seem to care what people thought of it. Then again, he probably wasn't getting too many visitors these days, either. Except for the ones on broomsticks.

Draco mulled over the bits and pieces Harry had told him the night before. It sounded like

Harry was getting frequent visits from some idiot on a broomstick who felt like playing tricks. They were good enough not to get caught, yet, but they were getting a little reckless if they were hurling objects into the house. Draco immediately ruled out Crabbe and Goyle: they were too thick to be creative enough to think of bothering Potter all summer. Draco knew that Harry had a good list of classmates at Hogwarts who weren't all too keen on him, most of them Slytherins. Add to that list a Snape, and a few members of the Ministry of Magic, and to top it all off, Voldemort and his legions.

This kid sure has made a lot of enemies, wondered Draco. And other than Voldemort, I was probably the worst.

Draco came out of his reverie as Harry started fidgeting. Harry rolled over, bringing himself and Draco only inches apart. His eyes opened slowly, blinking in the bright glare of sunlight through the window, then looked at Draco, who was staring at Harry with an odd smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Morning," said Draco. "Sleep well?"

After Harry's eyes adjusted to the morning glare, he found himself looking directly into Draco's eyes, which, even though Harry wasn't glasses, were very clear at such close range. Harry noticed a lock of Draco's hair had fallen into his eyes, reflecting the sun.

Overall, he looks very fetching, thought Harry. Realizing what had just gone through his mind, he tried to put some space between them, but only succeeded in falling off the bed.

"Must have not slept that well if you can't even lay down without falling over," muttered Draco as Harry pulled himself to his feet and climbed back in the bed, sitting upright at Draco's feet. Draco raised and eyebrow that was accompanied by a questioning look, causing Harry to turn red. Draco just smiled, laughing.

"And I thought Weasley was a klutz."

Harry checked the door, which was locked from the outside, as he had predicted. Prying open the loose floorboard, he tossed a chocolate frog to Draco and grabbed one for himself. They ate in silence for several minutes, once again lost in their own thoughts.

"Why'd you help me?" Draco caught Harry off-guard, and Harry paused before answering.

"You were hurt, and I wasn't going to make you go somewhere else to get help. You'd lost enough blood already, and you were paler than I'd ever seen you-"

"No, Potter, why'd you really help me? Other than all the medical reasons. You of all people would have had the right to turn me away and let me bleed to death, but you took me in, fixed me up, fed me, and let me sleep with you- Oh, get your mind out of the gutter," exclaimed Draco as Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Why?"

"I dunno... you needed me, I guess, and..." Harry trailed off, at a loss for words. "Won't your father be looking for you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yea, but the absolute last place he would look would be your house, so I'll be safe for a couple days, at the least. Do you have any more chocolate frogs?"

Harry grabbed a few more and sat down again.

"About the person on the broomstick," managed Draco around a mouthful of frog. He swallowed before continuing. "It could be just about anybody. Were you able to tell if it was male or female? Any glimpse of hair?"

"The laughter certainly sounded female, but whoever it was looked pretty tall," Harry thought aloud, thinking back to his brief glance of them. "Other than that, I don't think that there's anything that would distinguish them from anyone else. Had the hood up, so I didn't catch the face or hair color. Fast broom, though."

Draco shook his head. Leave it to Potter to be analyzing brooms when people were dive bombing his house. "What was in the package? Dungbombs? Cockroach Clusters? A Portkey to Voldemort's living room?"

Harry went pale. "It was a letter," he said softly, pain leaking through the words. "It said, 'Watch it Potter. Don't want to end up like your... your godfather, do you?'" His voice had been trailing off the entire time, and Draco had to strain his ears to hear the last word. Hearing this, Draco thought back to the beginning of the summer, his dad gloating over the fact that Harry had now lost every living relative with a trace of magic in them.

"I'm sorry," said Draco, knowing that it was mainly his father's fault for luring Harry into the Ministry that night. Damn you, father. Don't you ever see what pain and destruction you cause? Don't you ever care?

"It's alright, it's just still painful to think about," answered Harry, ducking his head so Draco couldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes. After he had himself under control, Harry retrieved the first-aid kit. "Stand-up. I need to change the bandage."

Draco did as he was told, undressing without any snide remarks. The cut had healed a bit, and it had stopped bleeding, but the skin around the edges was puffy and sore. Harry was almost finished wrapping tape around the gauze pads when the locks and bolts on the outside of the door began to slide open. Draco froze, wide-eyed, but Harry snatched his invisibility cloak and threw it to Draco, who slid it on just as Uncle Vernon stormed into the room.

"Think you got off easy last night, don't you?" Uncle Vernon had a malicious grin spreading over his very fat, very purple face. "Think by storming off you won't have to clean it up? Think again, my boy!" he crowed, a hideous laugh escaping his wide throat. "You get to come downstairs, right now, and clean it up, and then you get to stay in your room for the rest of the week, no owls, no phone calls, no visits! And if I see that ruddy bird flying around at ANY time of the day or night, I'll shoot it! Come on!" With that he grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him out of the room. Harry mouthed "Keep quiet" over his shoulder just before he disappeared from view, leaving Draco alone.

He stood leaning against the wall, listening to the sounds of brooms sweeping up broken glass and the constant rumble of Uncle Vernon's threats. Glancing to make sure no one was in the doorway, he knelt down and began to rummage through Harry's trunk. There wasn't much there; most of it was scattered on the floor already. Draco came across the Sneakoscope Ron had bought Harry in Cairo, the almost empty homework diary Hermione had given him last Christmas, and a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Brushing these aside, Draco found a photo album, pretty thick, and pulled it out. He sat on the floor in front of the trunk, flipping through the pictures of Harry's parents.

They really did look a lot alike, Draco mused as he studied Harry's father. And he definitely has his mom's emerald green eyes. Draco smiled in spite of himself. In every picture Harry's parents were smiling and laughing, mingling with friends or talking amongst themselves. They waved at Draco, then turned back to the activity at hand. Draco wondered if they would be so amiable towards him if they knew what he had done to their son for the past five years.

"Who are you?"

Draco turned towards the door to find a huge, repulsive figure that somewhat resembled a human staring at him through squinted eyes. The invisibility cloak must have slipped off as he went through Harry's trunk. Draco stood up quickly, tossing the album back into the trunk and slamming the lid shut. The creature took a few steps towards him, and Draco couldn't tell if he was about to be questioned or killed.

"You're pretty."

Or molested.

Draco tugged the invisibility cloak back over his head and took a few steps to the left, vanishing completely right in front of the beast. It blinked slowly a couple of times, then took a swipe at where Draco had been standing a moment ago. Finding nothing, its eyes widened a bit more, then it began to scream.

A moment later, Harry was in the room, followed closely by Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon appearing a bit later, panting from the exertion of running up the stairs. Both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were trying to comfort Dudley, but Harry stood back, searching for a sign of Draco. Before he could find any, Dudley turned on him.

"Where's the vampire?!" he yelled. "Where's the vampire that was here just a minute ago? I was about to..." Dudley stopped, realizing that if he completed the sentence, his parents would send him St. Brutus's for life.

"Vampire? You have a vampire?" Aunt Petunia went white, looking as if she had just been attacked by one. Uncle Vernon had snatched a book of the floor and was looking around to see if there was anything to lash out at. His gaze fell on Harry.

"Where is it boy? Where is the vampire? Tell me!"

"I don't have a vampire," his said with exasperation. "Plus, they can only come out at night, remember? It's the middle of a bright, sunny day, so if Dudley had seen a vampire, it would have been incinerated by now."

Aunt Petunia looked from Harry to Dudley, then seemed to find reason in what Harry was saying. She crossed the room to Dudley and felt his forehead.

"Are you alright, sugar-muffin? Are you feeling overheated? Maybe you need to lie down with a cool glass of water and some cake," she suggested, a worry line creasing her forehead.

"Sure, mum," said Dudley with a sickeningly sweet smile as he walked slowly out of the room, Aunt Petunia following quickly, not wanting to let her sick child out of her sight. As soon as they were gone, Uncle Vernon checked the closet, under the bed, and in all the corners for a sign of any non-welcome creature. Harry panicked as he thought of he bloody shirt, but he couldn't see it anywhere. Neither did Uncle Vernon, who stormed out of the room, prolonging Harry's punishment to two weeks as he bolted the door.

The moment Harry knew Uncle Vernon was out of earshot, he burst out laughing. He threw himself down on the bed and buried his face in a pillow, trying to muffle the sounds so there wouldn't be another week added to his sentence.

"What the hell is so damn funny?" Harry glanced up and burst into another peal of laughter as he saw Draco standing there with his arms crossed, ribbons of tape and gauze pads hanging off him at random intervals. Unable to say anything he just pointed at Draco, who glimpsed himself in the mirror. He did look pretty ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with no shirt on, bandages barely clinging to him, holding a torn and bloodied t-shirt in one hand and his broomstick in the other. He couldn't help himself- he started laughing, quietly at first, then grabbing one of the pillows to muffle the sound of his own laughter.

"You never told me your cousin had a thing for guys. You never told me that thing was your cousin, either," Draco said through tears of mirth, sitting down on the bed next to Harry.

"How was I supposed to know? He never came after me before. Not complaining, though. How'd he see you?"

"I got bored, so I went looking around your room," Draco admitted sheepishly. "I guess I got a little careless, and the cloak slipped. Next thing I knew, your cousin was advancing on me, calling me pretty and looking like he was going to rape me."

Instead of making Harry more sympathetic, Draco's confession made him laugh harder. The image of Dudley making a move on Draco was disturbing, yet extremely hilarious at the same time. Once the urge to laugh had subsided, he took another look at Draco an shook his head.

"You don't mix to well with Muggle remedies, do you?" he asked, pulling Draco to his feet so that he could remove the mess of tape and gauze pads he'd tried to put on earlier. He began the process all over again, Draco's reaction the stinging medicines less audible this time. As Harry started applying the anti-bacterial ointment, his hands brushed against Draco's ice cold skin, causing him to jump.

"You're freezing," mumbled Harry, hurrying to finish bandaging the wound so Draco could get something warm on.

"Maybe it's because I've lost a good amount of blood in the past twenty- four hours?" Draco smiled coyly, catching the long sleeved shirt and sweater Harry threw him. Draco struggled so long with the shirt that Harry came over and helped him.

"I don't need a nanny, Potter," Draco said gruffly, allowing Harry to help.

"Well, at this point and time, you need me, so get over yourself." Harry finished with the shirt and started pulling the sweater over Draco's head. Once he got to the bottom, his hand lingered on the hem for a moment, as if he couldn't decide whether to let go or not. He turned away, going through his closet for a clean t-shirt and jeans that he could throw on.

"D'you mind not looking for a moment?" Draco turned around, and Harry dressed quickly. He was adjusting his shirt when he felt a cool hand slide around his waist. Harry turned, now face to face with Draco, his heartbeat quickening. Harry realized that they were the same height as he looked into Draco's eyes, which were smiling as he bent closer.

"Nice legs," Draco murmured, brushing his nose against Harry's. "Definitely better than your cousin's."

Harry laughed nervously. "You looked," he accused.

"Of course I looked. You didn't expect me to pass the chance to see the famous Harry Potter half naked, did you?

"I didn't expect you to be interested."

"I didn't expect to be interested either." Draco grinned, running his hands down Harry's sides. He felt Harry shiver, his skin breaking out in goose bumps. "Are you interested?"

Harry linked his arms around Draco's neck and pulled him closer, their bodies perfectly aligned. He tilted his head slightly, appraising Draco through half lidded eyes, then kissed him hard on the mouth. Draco was surprised for a moment; he hadn't thought Harry to be this passionate about it. Then he relaxed, letting his arms encircle Harry, running his fingers over Harry's back. Harry allowed him to slip his hands under his shirt, and Draco could feel Harry smile against his lips. Harry ran his tongue over Draco's bottom lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. Draco opened his mouth, and Harry took the hint and entered.

Harry broke the kiss a moment later, leaving Draco more than a little disoriented. He looked questioningly at Harry, who stepped back and grinned at Draco.

"Yes, I'm interested. Glad you didn't go to Crabbe or Goyle?"

"Very."

The afternoon found Harry sitting on the bed, propped up against the wall. Draco had lain his head in Harry's lap, who was now running his fingers through Draco's hair.

"We can rule out a good amount of people if whoever sent the letter knew about Sirius's death. The Ministry kept that hushed up pretty well," Draco was saying. "That narrows it down to the Death Eaters that were in the Ministry with you, their connections and family, the people that were there fighting on your side, and the people you told afterwards. And, of course, Voldemort."

"I'm pretty sure that the members of the Order wouldn't torment me all summer. Same goes for the people that were there with me. I didn't tell anyone except Dumbledore, and I'm assuming he left Sirius's name out of most of this."

"So we can definitely narrow it down to Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and their minions."

"Real narrow playing field, Malfoy. Wait... minions?"

"Word of the day."

Harry smiled in spite on himself. He had found that Draco, once relaxed, had a pretty good sense of humor. Losing himself in trying to remember all the Death Eaters he had ever seen, and who they would be associated with, he stared off into space. Who would be so unoriginal as to play the Muggle schoolboy? Especially if they were working for Voldemort?

"Ouch! Hey, stop!" Harry realized that he had lost himself so much that he was pulling Draco's hair.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his mind still on Death Eaters.

"So anyways, do you think it could happen?" Draco repeated.

"What?" Harry must have missed whatever Draco had been saying before.

Draco sat up and turned around to face Harry. "You've been distracted through everything I just said, haven't you? I was asking if you think my father would try to send an owl to me, since...Harry? Hello? You alright?"

"Distracted...Draco, you're a genius! I could kiss you!"

"You've already done that. Now, why am I such a genius? Other than the fact that I'm me."

"Distracted! That's all it is, a distraction! Whoever's doing this is trying to make me concentrate on these stupid little attacks, while they're doing something else. I dunno what they're doing, or who's sending it, but I know that this is a distraction!"

Draco smiled grimly. "Looks like we have ourselves a strategist," he joked. "Now, Mr. MI6, tell us who did what in which room with what weapon to receive the grand prize of being able to keep your life!"

"Draco," Harry groaned. "That was pathetic."

"Yea, it was. Wanna snog?" He climbed onto Harry's lap, trapping him against the wall.

"You have a one-track mind, you know? Voldemort could be planning to destroy me right now, and all you want to do is make out," protested Harry without much conviction.

"At least you'd die happy." Draco's tongue flickered over Harry's ear, making him shudder.

"True," Harry admitted, running his fingers along Draco's lips. "Not a bad way to go." He smiled, letting his fingers travel down Draco's neck and rest on his stomach, then encircled his waist and drew him in, losing himself and all thoughts of danger in Draco's deep, powerful kiss.