The soft late summer air was running through his hair when Harry pushed himself off of the ground. It wasn't long until he was floating in the air at the same height as the hoops. Finally he could just clear his mind without thinking about anything or anyone sneaking up on him.

The thoughts inside his head had been getting weirder and weirder lately. Most of his dreams involved the same thoughts, which was frightening, because Harry sometimes spoke in his sleep and if Ron heard.. Oh god.. That was really not something he was looking forward to.

Harry wasn't in the air for more than ten minutes and there it was. A drop of water fell on his nose. It was cold compared to the warm breeze. Harry tried to ignore it, tried to think about the things he had to think about. The things that he needed sorted out in his head. Draco.

The stares during breakfast, during classes, during lunch breaks. The double-checks when he crossed him in the hallways. The way Draco's eyes shot back to his books whenever Harry caught him staring. It was so weird.

The rain was getting more and more difficult to ignore. His Quidditch robes were soaked. He could feel the cold dripping through his shirt, making it stick to his chest. He didn't want to get sick, but he neither wanted to go back to the castle and face, I dunno, Ron, Hermione.. Draco..

Harry kept flying circles that weren't even looking like they were meant for practice. Flash! Boom! He curled into his broom instantly, shocked with the sudden sound. He had to get down. It was too dangerous.

Flying with lightning wasn't one of the things Harry had good memories of. He shot down, not really seeing well through his water stained glasses. When his feet reached the ground he had no idea how fast he could get inside of the changing rooms. It was too freakin' cold out here.

Not even with his right foot inside, he threw his broom and robes aside and pulled his shirt over his head. And then, out of nowhere, there were hands. On his chest. Pushing him against the lockers. He couldn't see anything. His glasses were fogged up because the sudden change of temperature.

"Shit." The person in front of him hissed. It took Harry so off guard that he almost felt his knees give up on him. Draco. Harry wanted to say something, push him off, kick him, anything, but he was locked in place. Draco was just a few inches taller than him, not enough to really have a step forward on him, but now it caused Harry to freeze, feel terrified, but the warmth of Draco's body against his bare skin was frighteningly pleasant.

"Shit." The boy hissed again, and though Harry couldn't see, he felt that Draco's face was closer. He felt the brush of shaky air hit his lips. Harry held his breath, not sure if to do anything.

He had no idea what was going on. Just a few minutes ago he had just been thinking about what had happened with Draco to make him act the way he did lately, and now he was trapped between a god damn locker and the Slytherin in question. He had nowhere to go, and for a unknown reason, he didn't want to go anywhere. Though the whole thing scared the hell out of him, he felt.. save. Or something..

Draco's hands were still hovering above his chest, giving Harry a sort of warm glow from the inside. He had no idea where it came from, or what it should tell him, but it was there. Too strong not to notice.

At once his lungs sucked in so much air he almost lost his balance. He had totally forgotten to breath properly. It reminded him of his own ability to speak and tried to find the right words inside his head. "Why-" Draco didn't let him finish. The lips that had always been there to insult him, his friends, his parents. The lips that insulted Gryffindor and everyone in it. The lips that called Hermione a mudblood once, that called Hagrid a murderer, Dumbledore a fraud. The lips that were always surrounded by that self-involved smirk. How could those lips feel so caring around his? How could they make him feel so complete?

Draco pushed himself off as fast as everything started, looking confused. He backed off shakily. Harry looked at him. He could finally see him through his glasses, searching for something in those silvery green eyes. Harry had no idea what was going on in Draco's mind, or in his own, but all he knew was that he wanted. More, less, he didn't care, he just wanted it so bad.

His hands grabbed for Draco's Quidditch robes, pulling him back while stepping forwards himself. Lips clashed hastily. The whole room felt like it was on fire.

Shit. What the hell was happening? This couldn't be right, could it? But neither of them stopped. They just got closer. Harry could feel Draco's heartbeat increase. He couldn't think anymore. His mind was taken over by this hazy cloud of want and all he could do was press his mouth closer to Draco, press his body closer.

They almost tumbled down over the bench that had been there for years, but Draco could hold himself up just in time. It caused them to pause for a second, find each other's eyes. Draco just sat down on the wooden bench, making a gesture for Harry to come closer.

His breath hitched when he saw the look of pure want in Draco's eyes and he didn't take another second to change his mind. Carefully, he placed his knees on both sides of Draco's thighs, practically straddling his lap. He looked down at Draco from his new found position, smirking a bit, liking the dominance. "You're hot." Draco whispered almost inaudible. And lips were together again.