Damn You, Potter!

Note: this was inspired by a prompt on Tumblr by bookstookthenerdsalive. I kept Draco Slytherin, but aside from that, the prompt was: Draco wrapped in a Gryffindor blanket trying to study but Harry keeps bothering him about playing Quidditch

"Beat it, Potter." Draco adjusted the book propped against his knees and turned the thin old pages, trying to focus on the various lists of ingredients written in an elegant scrawl.

River water, midnight flowers… Draco sighed. How was he supposed to focus when Harry was all over the place? The smell of him filling Draco's nose as the dark haired boy rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and scowled down at the spell book. He scrunched up his face, and Draco felt his own eye twitch a bit in irritation.

Focus, he told himself. And not on Potter!

Harry wasn't having it, though. "Nasty," he said, breath warm on Draco's cheek. "This is so boring."

The blond squirmed away. "I'm trying to study, Potter. Aren't you used to this by now, the way you follow Granger around like a lost puppy?"

Harry snorted. "Hermione isn't as distracting as you, though. For starters, I don't get the urge to ravish her against a bookshelf when I see her curled up reading." He looked thoughtful. "Actually, I mostly just get the urge to take a nap."

"You," said Draco, "are incorrigible."

"That's what they tell me."

The fire cracked loudly, and Draco sighed in exhaustion. He wouldn't admit it to Harry, but the studying was making him want to take a nap himself. Being ravished against a bookshelf might be loads more fun… he thought of Harry's body pressed against his: hips brushing, breath mingling hot and heady between them, the flush that filled his body whenever Harry touched him…

Hell! He thought, I'm as much of a pervert as he is!

He shook his head and tried to focus on the book. He pulled the white and green blanket wrapped around his shoulders a bit tighter and sank into the warmth of the armchair. Meanwhile, Harry had come around from the back of the chair and sat on the floor at his feet, making faces at Draco's book and toying with his wand.

Okay, so, ingredients-

The book jerked in Draco's hands, and he jumped in surprise as it lifted from his hands. It jerked away like a lazy, overfed bird, trying not to fall under its own weight, and dropped into Harry's waiting hands. He tossed it over his shoulder with a grin.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "I suppose that settles that." He kissed the end of his wand and pointed it at Draco. "Now if we could just get rid of that blanket covering you all up-"

"You absolute git!" Draco snapped. "Do you want me to fail? I suppose if you had your way I'd be selling old cursed teacups on the street in Diagon Alley for a living, now, wouldn't I-"

"Draco?" Said Harry. "Please stop talking. I have a long list of much better uses for your lips."

He felt that familiar heat flush his frame as Harry rose onto his knees and leaned forward, his hands resting on Draco's thighs as he leaned in close. He tried to look angry, but mostly he felt very, very flustered. One of Harry's hands lifted from his leg, and suddenly warm, gentle fingers were tracing his jaw, cupping his cheek, turning his face so he found he was just inches away from the smaller boy, so he was forced to look him in the eye.

Harry's scent washed over him again - his breath sickeningly sweet from butterbeer, lips still sticky and stained with it, and the musk of his sweat from quidditch practice earlier. Draco licked his lips unconsciously and then gulped as Harry leaned in, closer, then closer, until their lips brushed, just barely, and Draco felt like he might melt into the chair.

Harry smiled against him. "Draco?" He asked.

"Yes?" His voice was a whisper, dazed and confused and more than a little breathless.

"I'm very, very bored." Harry said, and then he jumped up and spun away, grabbing Draco's discarded book from where it lay on the rug and smiling crookedly back at him. "So let's go find something else to do!"

He bolted off through the massive shelves and Draco felt his jaw drop. He stood from the chair, his house blanket falling back, and scowled. "Potter! Bring me back my damn book!"

He heard Harry laugh, distantly, and took off after him into the shelves. It was all he could do to hide his stupid grin…