Title: Night Fever
Author: Dark Phoenix
Summary: A group of the returning eighth-years sneak out to a nightclub to ease the stress and boredom of studying for their NEWTs. But could a single night of partying change the way Harry and Draco feel about each other?
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Warning: Underage drinking (gasp! Won't someone please think of the children?!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this.
Notes: Title is from a Bee Gees song, though the song doesn't have anything to do with the plot. This will have a second part, which I hope to have up by next week.
~ Night Fever ~
"I am so freaking bored," Pansy Parkinson declared.
It was a bit frightening how one simple declaration from Pansy could set an entire chain of events in motion, but as Draco admired himself in the mirror later that night, he couldn't say he regretted it. The eighth-year students who'd returned that year had done nothing but study and get on each other's nerves since the beginning of term. Being stuck in a dorm with the rest of his year-mates had some advantages: since they were all of age and many were now war heroes, McGonagall had given them considerably more freedom, and they were allowed to go out on the weekends as long as they returned before curfew. Draco was just glad she hadn't made any distinction between those who were war heroes and those who'd found themselves on the wrong side. Eighth year was stressful enough as it was.
Draco turned in front of the mirror, admiring his body from every angle. I really should wear jeans more often, he thought with satisfaction. He had to admit, Muggle clothes showed off his lean, sculpted body much better than the shapeless robes wizards typically wore. It really was a shame that his best assets so often went unappreciated in his figure-obscuring robes.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and Pansy stuck her head in the room without waiting for a reply.
"Aren't you ready yet?" she complained, and Draco watched with delight as her eyes landed on him and the expression on her face changed from annoyance to lust in a split second.
Draco held back his laughter as he watched Pansy struggle to regain her composure. She crossed the room and stood next to him at the mirror, gazing back at him with an impatient look that he thought would have been more convincing if she wasn't practically salivating. "You look fine, princess," she said briskly. "Can we go now?"
"Of course, of course," he said, pleased by her reaction. "But you might want to wipe up that little bit of drool first."
Pansy smacked him, then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door. Draco let her lead him, thoroughly amused by the entire scene.
"Everyone else has been ready and waiting," she informed him pointedly as they made their way down to the common room. As if to prove her point, everyone in the common room stood and headed for the door the moment Pansy and Draco entered the room.
"Where did you say we were going again?" one of the Ravenclaws asked as they hurried down the hall. It was already getting close to curfew, and they didn't want to get stopped before they had a chance to leave. So far, nobody had mentioned how they would be getting back in, but since the next day was a Saturday, none of them were too concerned.
"We're going to a Muggle club," said Blaise Zabini. "A place called Night Fever, I think?" He looked back at Pansy questioningly.
"That's right," said Pansy, unable to hide her excitement. "I went there a few times over the summer. It's really fun, you'll love it."
Chattering away excitedly, the group made their way past the gates of Hogwarts to the Apparition point. It was an oddly mixed group, consisting of eighth-year students from each House, including several Gryffindors. Draco hadn't been too surprised that Seamus Finnigan had wanted to come and insisted on bringing along his best friend Dean Thomas (though Draco had his suspicions about their "friendship"). But he hadn't counted on Harry Potter wanting to join them as well.
It'll probably do him some good to get out and let loose for once, Draco thought. Besides, he's probably as sick of seeing Granger and Weasley slobbering all over each other as the rest of us. A rather giddy feeling was starting to rise in him as they neared the Apparition point, and he had to admit that sneaking out to a club really was a great idea, even if they did get in trouble later. After so many long weeks of studying, he was looking forward to a night out. He turned on the spot, eagerly anticipating the few hours of fun ahead of them.
Harry really didn't know why he'd gone along with the others. He'd never been clubbing before, and he didn't think it was a particularly wise move going out and getting drunk with a bunch of Slytherins. In fact, Parkinson's suggestion had come as quite a surprise — he wouldn't have expected the Slytherins to even know what a club was in the first place. He'd been even more suprised to see them all clustered around the common room in regular Muggle clothes, as if they'd done this countless times before. And seeing Malfoy in jeans, somehow managing to look effortlessly stylish and casual at the same time, the way he always did, must have been the last straw for Harry's poor, unsuspecting brain. Because there must have been something wrong with his brain, otherwise he couldn't imagine how else he could've actually gone through with this. Sure, Dean and Seamus were there, but overall, he was feeling more nervous than excited about the whole thing.
It's not like you had anything better to do, he reminded himself. He had to admit that was true. There were papers to write and chapters to read, but it seemed like those things would always be there no matter what, and he was so tired of doing homework. Hermione had been freaking out over the N.E.W.T.s just as he'd expected, and spent most of her time nagging him and Ron to study. That was, when she and Ron weren't snogging. Harry shook his head. He was sincerely happy for his friends, but sometimes he wished they would get a room. Maybe he was just lonely, he thought. After all, nothing had happened between him and Ginny since the war ended, even though everyone expected them to get back together. He couldn't seem to explain to everyone — or even to himself — why they hadn't. Hell, he could hardly bring himself to even think about it, after everything that had happened. It was all just too much to deal with.
And that's why you're doing this, he reminded himself. Because you need a break from all this before the stress eats you alive. He knew that was true, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he was going about it the right way.
You're just thinking too much, he thought decisively. Once you've had a few drinks and start to relax, you'll see that this really is a good idea.
With that, Harry resolved to stop arguing with himself and start enjoying his night instead. Determined to make the most of it, he saw the nightclub come into view just as a flash of blond hair up ahead caught his eye for the hundredth time that night. Harry gave himself a mental shake. Why did he keep staring at Malfoy? He didn't really look that different since he'd let his hair grow out, although since he kept it pulled back most of the time, Harry hadn't really noticed just how long it was. Now, however, with Draco's hair falling loosely about his face like a silky, blond mane, Harry couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him. And since when is he Draco? he asked himself sternly. He gave himself another shake. He was not going to spend the night thinking about Draco Malfoy.
"Here we are!" Parkinson called out gaily as the group approached the club. "Who's ready to party?"
I am, Harry thought with determination, trying to psych himself up. Let's do this!
Draco strode across the parking lot with the others until they reached a door with a line of people waiting to be let in by a large, intimidating bouncer in a dark T-shirt. Blaise, who had a Ravenclaw girl on each arm, was one of the first to reach the door. The bouncer moved the velvet rope aside to let them through without a second glance. But when the rest of them approached the door, he simply stood there, motionless.
"What now?" he heard one of the Hufflepuffs ask Pansy. "He won't let us in."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "He's only supposed to let the cool people in," she explained, as if talking to a four-year-old. "Obviously you're not cool enough. You have to get someone who is cool to let you come in with them."
"Well, what are we supposed to do now? Zabini should've told the bouncer we were with him."
More grumbling followed this, and Draco pushed his way through the crowd to the door. "I don't have time for this," he said impatiently, walking right up to the bouncer, who immediately moved the rope aside to let him pass.
Draco stepped past him, then stopped as he heard the rope fall back into place behind him. He turned and looked up at the bouncer with big eyes. "Aren't you going to let my friends in?" he said innocently.
The bouncer glanced briefly over their group. "You have an awful lot of friends," he said gruffly, but Draco could tell he was beginning to crumble. He'd always had a knack for knowing which people could be wrapped around his little finger, and the bouncer, for all his gruffness, was one of them.
Draco twirled a lock of hair around his finger, still gazing coyly up at the bouncer. "Well, you don't want me to get lonely, do you?"
He could see the bouncer struggling with himself for a moment before barking out, "Fine, go ahead, now hurry up before I change my mind."
Draco stepped back and let the others enter the club before him, feeling smug. Potter was the last in line, but before he could walk past, Draco quickly blurted out, "Wait, I don't know him."
Whether it was because of the astonished look on Potter's face or the smirk on Draco's, the bouncer didn't believe him. With a slight smirk of his own, he waved Potter past.
"Oh, that's all right, he can go in," he said, clearly relishing Draco's look of shock. "Besides," he added conspiratorially, "you don't really want to make your boyfriend stand outside all night over some silly lover's spat. You'll regret it later, trust me."
Draco was too dumbfounded by what he was hearing to respond. Potter's face registered his surprise as well, but he got over it much more quickly. Before Draco knew what was happening, Potter had slipped an arm around his waist and was ushering him inside. "Come on, babe," he was saying. "Isn't it about time for you to bury the hatchet?" And as the door closed behind them, Draco could swear he saw Potter wink at the smirking bouncer.
Utterly bewildered, Draco let Potter lead him into the club, very aware of the arm wrapped tightly around his waist. His face was burning, and his skin tingled where Potter's arm was touching him. As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit club and he caught up with the others, his wits returned to him. He wrenched himself out of Potter's grasp, hoping the lights were dim enough to hide the color in his face.
"I suppose you thought you were being clever," he said in his usual drawl.
Potter grinned at him. "No cleverer than you, I'm sure."
Draco gave a small, involuntary shudder. "Whatever, Potter," he snapped, whirling around and striding purposefully towards the bar. "I need a drink."
He came up behind a surprised-looking Pansy and ordered a drink, scanning the dance floor below. The last few minutes had left him feeling completely unsettled, and he wanted to make that feeling go away as quickly as possible. He was here to have fun and relax. Tossing back his drink in one gulp, he headed out to the dance floor. The night was still young, he thought. Plenty of time for things to get better. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he saw that Pansy had followed him. Smiling, he took her hand and spun her around the dance floor. As the music washed over him, he felt the sense of release he'd been looking for and let himself get caught up in the moment. It seemed like this was going to be a good night after all.
Harry sat at the bar next to Dean, slowly sipping his beer. He was beginning to enjoy himself, although that scene with Malfoy kept trying to creep back into his brain. It was strange — he'd just wanted to pay Malfoy back for trying to ditch him, but then things had gotten a bit weird. He could almost still feel Malfoy's slim body against his arm, rather tense and much warmer than he would've expected. Harry was surprised at himself for having thrown his arm around his old rival like that. What had come over him? Part of it had been a reaction to the bouncer's comment, and he wondered what had given him the impression they were a couple. Was it something he'd said or done, or something Malfoy had said or done? But he couldn't think of anything about either of them that would make someone think they were . . . he didn't even want to think the word.
With a shudder, he turned to where Dean was enthusiastically explaining football to Seamus, with the help of a game playing on a nearby TV.
Harry smiled to himself and tried to get into the game, but before long, he found his eyes wandering over to the dance floor. He found Malfoy without even trying; his bright hair stood out like a beacon. Malfoy was dancing by himself, and even from his seat at the bar, Harry could see the appreciative looks cast in his direction as he danced. And it was no surprise — he was an incredible dancer. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved, his hips swaying to the beat and his hair flying. The bright, colored lights shining down on him were more pure and intense against his white-blond hair than anyone else's. Harry stared, transfixed. He had never seen Malfoy like this before, hadn't even known this side of him existed. There was something so free about him out there on the dance floor, and it was utterly captivating.
Harry gave a sudden jerk as he realized the direction his thoughts had taken. Merlin, how much have I had to drink? he wondered, setting his half-finished beer on the bar next to him. He turned back to his friends, meaning to involve himself in their conversation, but the way they were smiling at each other made him pause, feeling as much like a third wheel as he'd been feeling around Ron and Hermione.
Dean and Seamus? It seemed to be about the only coherent thought in his head at the moment. Harry looked up at the TV with a frown. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.
The song was ending, and Draco slowed his movements, taking the opportunity to peek over at the bar where Potter had been staring at him for quite some time.
Potter had his eyes glued to the TV as if it was a lifeline. A slight frown crossed Draco's face at the sight. Now, that won't do at all, he thought decisively. Draco really didn't know what he was doing, but now that he'd finally gotten Potter's attention, he wasn't about to let it get away that easily. He quickly scanned the dance floor. There were already plenty of Muggles casting longing looks in his direction. Draco caught the gaze of a particularly attractive young man and sent a seductive smile his way as the music started to pick up again. He could practically see the Muggle boy gulp in surprise before making his way over to Draco.
This is just too easy, Draco thought smugly. How do you like that, Potter?
Almost against his will, Harry's eyes wandered back to the dance floor, where Malfoy was now dancing with some Muggle boy. Harry felt an unexpected surge of irritation at the sight.
Whatever, he thought, rolling his eyes. What do I care if Malfoy wants to make a fool of himself with some Muggle? He pointedly turned back to the TV, not stopping to wonder just who he was trying to convince.
Harry tried to concentrate on the game, but his eyes kept drifting back. There wasn't an inch of space between the two boys, he thought with disgust. The Muggle boy kept putting his hands all over Malfoy, and Malfoy was just giggling — giggling! — and letting him do it. Harry shook his head, wondering just when he had entered the Twilight Zone. This was a mistake, he thought, glaring over at the TV. He noticed distractedly that Dean and Seamus had left, but he had no idea where they'd gone or when.
A nearby giggle got his attention, and he turned back around to see Malfoy ordering a drink. He was grinning broadly, his face flushed with exertion, and he didn't appear to notice Harry sitting right there.
"I need a break," he was saying animatedly to the bartender, fanning his face with his hand. "I'm getting thirsty from all that dancing!"
"I don't think more alcohol is going to help," Harry heard himself saying dryly.
Malfoy turned to Harry in surprise, still smiling. "Harry!" he exclaimed as if they were best friends. "Have you been sitting there all night? Why don't you get out there and have fun?"
For a moment, Harry could only stare at him in shock. What had happened to the Malfoy he knew and loathed? The entire night seemed to be made up of a series of shocks — seeing Malfoy flirting shamelessly with the bouncer, watching him dance with absolutely no inhibition, smiling, and now this. It was almost more than he could take.
"Come dance with me," Malfoy was saying now, tugging on Harry's arm. "Come on, you need to loosen up for once."
"What?" Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Malfoy, one of the most uptight people he knew, was telling him he needed to loosen up, and had he actually asked Harry to dance with him? Harry thought he had.
"Dance with me," Malfoy repeated, still tugging on his arm, and somehow, Harry found himself standing up and allowing Malfoy to lead him onto the dance floor.
"But I don't dance," Harry protested feebly. Another song was starting, and Malfoy was beginning to move to the music, pulling Harry closer to himself as he did.
"You don't have to know how to dance," said Malfoy, slipping his arm around Harry's waist and gently leading him. "Just move your body to the beat." He started to sway his hips, and Harry, who seemed to be at a complete loss at the moment, began to move along with him, a bit awkwardly.
"That's good," said Malfoy, moving in closer to Harry. "Just relax. This is supposed to be fun."
It was almost as if Malfoy was speaking a foreign language. Nothing about this made any sense to Harry. How was this supposed to be fun when he could hardly think straight? He wanted to say that he felt horribly uncomfortable with Malfoy pressed against him like that, practically grinding on him, but that wasn't entirely true. If anything, Harry was beginning to feel a little turned on. In fact, if Malfoy didn't stop soon, it was going to become obvious.
He spun around so that his back was to Malfoy, and danced for the rest of the song in that new and much safer position. Malfoy seemed to back off a bit, allowing a little more space between them as they danced. When the song ended and a faster one started, Harry turned around again. He didn't miss the slight smirk on Malfoy's face.
"You know, if you'd let yourself relax, you'd enjoy yourself much more," Malfoy said over the music.
"Maybe I'm not enjoying myself because I'm dancing with you," Harry retorted.
Malfoy's eyes gleamed. "Or maybe you are enjoying yourself . . . a bit too much."
Harry blushed and gaped at Malfoy. How could he possibly have known the effect he'd had on Harry? After all, Harry had turned around before his body had had a chance to betray him. He collected himself quickly, but Malfoy's triumphant smirk told him he hadn't been quick enough. Harry braced himself for mockery, but Malfoy seemed content just to keep dancing for the moment. Unfortunately, when the song ended and a slow one began, he didn't miss the victorious gleam in Malfoy's eyes before the blond pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Harry almost seductively.
Almost against his will, he found himself moving slowly to the beat, pressed close, almost melting against Malfoy's body. This is a really bad idea, he thought. We've both obviously had too much to drink. If he still remembers this tomorrow morning, he's going to be livid. He didn't dare look back over at the bar, where he knew some of their classmates must be staring at them in shock right now. And he tried not to think that Malfoy wouldn't even have to remember; someone else would surely mention it. This was the kind of thing they weren't going to live down for the rest of the year.
But as logical as this argument was, Harry had to admit Malfoy was right. He was enjoying himself, and he really, really didn't want to stop dancing right now.
I must be drunker than I realize, he thought. All he wanted to do at the moment was dance with Malfoy. And maybe put his head on Malfoy's shoulder. And maybe caress his back, hands gliding freely over his thin shirt, and perhaps even slipping under it to feel his smooth skin.
"I knew you were enjoying yourself." Malfoy's lips were just touching Harry's ear as he spoke, sending shivers down his spine.
Harry couldn't bring himself to reply. He felt that anything he said right now would break the spell.
"I knew you felt it, too," Malfoy continued, and Harry realized they'd moved past the edge of the dance floor and into a dark corner away from the spotlight and prying eyes. "It wasn't just me all this time."
Harry raised his head and tilted it back so he could look into Malfoy's eyes. "Felt what?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
Malfoy's eyes were intensely focused on his with something he'd never seen in them before — or had he? On some level, Harry thought they'd been looking at each other this way for years.
"Whatever it is between us," Malfoy said, whispering now, but close enough that Harry could still hear him. "You know what I'm talking about. I've seen the way you look at me, especially in sixth year."
And Harry did know what he was talking about. The way he'd obsessed over Malfoy in sixth year . . . it couldn't have just been because he thought the other boy was up to something. For the first time since they'd met, Malfoy had been ignoring him. And Harry couldn't stand it.
They had stopped dancing. Harry wasn't even sure the music was still playing. They simply stood there, staring into each other's eyes with that undeniable intensity. He sensed that they were moving towards each other, but it didn't quite register until their lips met in a sweet and searing kiss.
He wasn't as shocked at what he was doing as he would've expected, too caught up in the sensations to care. The sparks that had always flickered between them suddenly burst into flame, and Malfoy's lips burned against his as Harry let himself be consumed.
Why didn't we do this years ago instead of wasting all our time on that petty rivalry? Harry wondered. It all seemed so obvious now that the whole thing was just a front. Malfoy felt so warm and eager against him, so at odds with his icy exterior. His lips were sweet from whatever he'd been drinking earlier, and they moved against Harry's with a combination of passion and unexpected gentleness that made his head swim and left him desperate for more. Harry sighed, letting his hands wander. Malfoy's skin was soft and silky, almost like a girl's but beneath it, his body was all sharp angles and hard muscle. It was an unusual combination, but not unpleasant. As Malfoy began trailing kisses down the side of Harry's neck, that voice in his head telling him that this was a bad idea started up again, but he ignored it. Yes, they were both drunk and would regret this later, but right then, it just felt too good to stop. Besides, they weren't doing anything but kissing. He wouldn't let it get any further than that. And since they were already going to regret it later, they might as well make it worthwhile, he reasoned. With that final thought, he once again lost himself in the moment, snogging Malfoy in a dark corner of some Muggle club like there was no tomorrow.
Draco was in heaven. He wasn't sure how he'd actually managed to do it, but he'd finally, finally, gotten Potter's attention, and now things had changed between them in a way he'd only dreamed about.
It's just because he's drunk, the practical side of him warned, but Draco didn't think that Potter was all that drunk. He certainly seemed to be in control of most of his actions. Though Draco had to admit, it was incredibly gratifying the way Potter had suddenly turned away from him while they were dancing so suggestively. He was also grateful that Potter had been the first one to move, before Draco's body had a chance to respond to the situation. After all, the boy who'd been such a huge source of aggravation for so long didn't need to know just how much of an effect he'd had on Draco.
He let his hands roam over Potter's body as they kissed, delighting in the warmth and strength radiating from the other boy. Potter was an even better kisser than he'd expected. His sheer passion more than made up for any awkwardness in his technique. Draco shivered as Potter's hands crept under his shirt, caressing his bare skin.
It was so easy to get lost in the moment that he didn't realize they weren't alone until he heard someone loudly clear their throat very close by. He looked up in surprise to see Pansy watching them in amusement.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, sounding anything but. "But it's getting late and everyone else is leaving."
Draco disentangled himself from Potter reluctantly. He wasn't particularly bothered at being caught by Pansy, and Potter didn't seem overly concerned, either. "So what's the plan, then?" he asked. "Are we all going to try to sneak back into Hogwarts, or did you have something else in mind?"
Pansy shook her head. "There are a few Muggle hotels in the area. I called a cab to come pick us up, since you two are almost certainly too drunk to Apparate."
Draco hated to leave the warmth and comfort of Potter's arms, but he had to admit he was getting tired, and it was probably time to go. "What would I do without you?" he said, giving Pansy his most charming smile.
She sniffed. "Continue making an fool of yourself in a public place, most likely," she said before turning to lead the way back outside.
Draco slipped an arm around Potter's waist and kissed his neck briefly. "We'd better go, then. She's not going to wait too long for us," he said.
Draco sighed contentedly as he led Potter out of the club. Going to a hotel was a great idea, he thought. He'd have to remember to thank Pansy later. Now he and Potter could finish what they'd started in private. It would be the perfect ending to a perfect night.
Harry thought he was beginning to sober up as he stepped out of the club. There was a distinct chill in the air now, and a small group of eighth years standing around waiting for cabs, and the combination made him feel more sober still. He was aware of Draco's hand resting comfortably in the back pocket of his jeans, and his own hand in Draco's. Even from a distance, he could see the curious looks the others were sending in his direction, but Draco seemed blissfully oblivious. As they approached, Harry managed to detach himself as tactfully as possible, but he could still see the other students staring and whispering, and the puppy-dog eyes Draco was giving him didn't help matters. He was relieved when he finally caught sight of the cab approaching.
Draco immediately headed for the cab, pulling Harry along with him.
"Wait, we're not all going to fit in there," Harry said, looking around at the group.
"That's okay, you can sit in my lap," Draco purred, pulling Harry the rest of the way into the cab with an ease that belied his drunken state. He slid his hands around Harry's waist and started to nuzzle his neck.
"Nobody is sitting in anyone's lap," Parkinson stated firmly, and Draco reluctantly allowed Harry to slide off his lap, although he kept one arm around his waist. Harry heard Parkinson sigh. "Okay, someone's going to have to ride in the back with the lovebirds," he heard her say, and he was glad he couldn't see the looks on the others' faces, although he could hear some snickering.
Harry was beginning to feel very conflicted. On one hand, he knew that he and Draco were providing the others with enough juicy gossip to last the rest of the school year, but he was also quite enjoying the way Draco was currently nibbling on his earlobe, and he really didn't want him to stop. He allowed himself to get caught up in Draco's kisses, barely noticing when someone climbed into the backseat next to them and the cab left for the hotel.
Harry had no idea how long a drive it was to the hotel. Draco kept him occupied the entire time, and Harry couldn't say he minded. It seemed his old rival could do some brilliant things with his tongue besides making cutting remarks. Draco's hands roamed freely over his body, and Harry let his do the same. Harry kissed his way down the side of Draco's neck, enjoying the soft whimpers he made, and Draco's hands slid down to his arse and gave it a firm squeeze, uncaring of who might be watching.
When they finally arrived, Harry thought he'd have another challenge trying to get Draco out of the cab, as absorbed in snogging Harry as he was, but to his surprise, Draco jumped out right away and hurried up to the front desk, still pulling Harry along with him. Once they had their room key, Draco practically ran to their room, stopping only to thoroughly snog Harry on the elevator ride up.
"Finally," Draco moaned breathlessly as they burst into their room and kicked the door shut behind them.
The sound of the door seemed to bring Harry out of his lustful haze. Was he really alone in a hotel room with Draco Malfoy, about to take advantage of his drunkenness?
"Draco. Draco." Harry finally brought his hands up to Draco's shoulders and held him at arms length so he could look him in the face. "Don't you think we're moving a little fast?"
Amazingly, Draco smirked back at him. "What's wrong, Potter? I thought you Gryffindors lived for moving too fast."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously still calling me Potter after everything that's happened tonight?"
Draco only grinned at him in a way that immediately made Harry feel suspicious. "Is that what's bothering you . . . Harry?" The way he said Harry's name sent shivers down his spine and made him strongly reconsider not allowing Draco to drag him over to the bed and shag him senseless. He could feel his traitorous body react immediately, and the gleam in Draco's eye told him the blond Slytherin was well aware of the effect that one simple word had on Harry.
Somehow, Draco had closed the distance between them again without Harry being aware of it. Harry heard a soft chuckle. "Well, Harry, if I'd known how you would react to me saying your name, I would've done this ages ago. Harry."
He's pure evil, Harry thought deliriously as Draco's lips found his once more before he lowered Harry down onto the bed, gently now, taking his time. Against his better judgment, Harry returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to pull Draco's body even closer against his own.
Draco sighed contentedly. "Mmmm, Harry, you taste so good," he murmured directly in Harry's ear, slowly tracing the edge of it with his tongue until Harry thought he would go insane. "I've been wanting to do this for so long."
Harry started slightly at his words. Had Draco been pining for him all this time? Draco noticed his reaction and leaned back to face him with a slight frown. "What's wrong?"
Here was the opportunity Harry had been looking for. "Is this really how you wanted it?" he asked. "When we're both too drunk to remember it tomorrow morning?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, you really are too much of a goody-goody for your own good." He thought about what he'd just said and began to giggle. "Too goody-goody for your own good," he repeated, giggling even harder.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Harry retorted, feeling smug. "You're obviously wasted. If this really is something you've wanted for 'so long,' do you really want it to turn out to be a drunken mistake?"
"But it doesn't have to be like that," Draco cajoled. "Do you really want to tell me that this doesn't feel good?" He pressed his lips to the base of Harry's throat and began to work his way down, unbuttoning Harry's shirt as he went. Harry groaned. He should've known that Draco wasn't going to make it easy for him. Draco smirked victoriously against Harry's skin just before swirling his tongue over Harry's right nipple in a way that made him gasp and let out a helpless whimper of ecstasy before he could stop himself.
Somehow, he managed to bring his hands up to Draco's bare shoulders (and when had Draco lost his shirt? Harry honestly couldn't remember) and gently push him away. "Draco, I mean it," he said. "This might feel good right now, but how good do you think you're going to feel tomorrow when you realize what's happened?"
Draco rolled his eyes again, but this time there was a sense of real anger in his expression. "Whatever, Potter," he snapped, pulling away and standing up. "I think the real problem is you're too afraid. Some Gryffindor you are. What's the matter — didn't the Weaselette ever make a man out of you?"
Harry jerked away as if he'd been burned, but Draco had already stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He lay back down on the bed in shock. What the hell had just happened?
He lay there for some time, unsure of what to do, but Draco had apparently decided to spend the night in the bathroom. Somehow, Harry managed to fall asleep.
Sometime later that night, Harry was awoken by Draco crawling back into the bed. Harry raised his head in sleepy confusion. "I'm sorry," said Draco. "That was out of line — I didn't mean it." Still half asleep, Harry could only stare blearily at the dark shape that was Draco. He didn't think he'd ever heard Draco Malfoy apologize for anything in his life. Finally, Harry's exhausted, overtaxed brain couldn't take any more, and he fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake again until morning.
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