I don't own it, yada yada. Mild boysex. Illogicality. No plot.

"Oh give me my sin again"

It had been an ordinary day. Regular, run-of-the-mill (if such a description could ever b applied to this place) Hogwarts. A very excellent breakfast in the great hall followed by a rush to be on time to Herbology. Dull classes as usual; incomprehensible double potions with the Slytherins and a side order of snide remarks exchanged with Malfoy (never mind the dollop of heart pounding lust his adolescent cock had thrown in just for kicks.) Then back to the common room for homework; no Quidditch practice due to the weather, a thick driving sleet that had deterred even Hagrid from a stroll about the grounds though it wouldn't have stopped Wood in the old days; and back to the great hall for supper, admiring the inky, starless black of the ceiling.

All perfectly routine, down to Malfoy's slightly late and slightly smirky entrance to the meal, Ron's accompanying murmur of "prat" and Hermione's rolled eyes. Expected was the
sudden lurch of his stomach into his lower abdomen followed by its abrupt migration to his esophagus as he admired Malfoy's pale skin and paler hair, enjoyed the warm tingle in his cheeks and groin. Also familiar was the wave of guilt (which was remarkably indistinguishable from arousal), "how could you harry he's your enemy your friends' enemy practically a deatheater very snoggable dangerous nonetheless" in a voice that sounded suspiciously like his godfather's, and his forced reminder to himself of all the evils Malfoy had committed upon his (and his friends') person.

Standard procedure for the past half year. He was no closer to breaking down and informing the ferret of his misguided hormones than he had ever been, which was not very. After
all, he only wanted to fuck Malfoy, not start a bloody relationship, and his lust was quite practically alleviated by solitary activity. He was in no danger of admitting anything to anyone, so long as his routine remained unshaken.

Which was why he was so upset when Malfoy discreetly cornered him after supper and herded him into a relatively quiet corridor.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Harry responded, growing more uncomfortable by the minute with the effects agitation had on Malfoy's complexion. His fair skin was flushed and his gray eyes were dark,
flashing dangerously with anger.

Harry's pulse pounded in his ears as Malfoy took a step closer and glared at him.

"You've been staring at me." the ferret finally accused, "and I want to know why."

"Erm." Harry said, hoping it would be an acceptable answer. Maybe it would help if he let Malfoy punch him. It was all he could think of under the rather pressing circumstances (those being that standing so close to Malfoy had him in a frenzy of truly epic proportions. How anyone could be expected to learn between the ages of twelve and seventeen was beyond him. Currently, anything but focusing on Malfoy's face and the delicious toe-curling heat in his chest was beyond him.)

And then, a sudden flash of inspiration hit him. Or maybe is was just another wave of gut-clenching arousal. Hard to tell, really. In any case, it was a better response than "erm."

"What's it matter to you?" he said, staring defiantly into Malfoy's eyes and hoping that the hallway was dark enough for the coiling heat in his eyes to be mistaken for a more angry sort of burn.

Malfoy at least had the decency to look uncertain before he demolished Harry' painstakingly established routine, and then proceeded to drive all thoughts of injustice from Harry's mind. His lips descended like a prophecy of doom, and it was all Harry could do to clench his hands in Malfoy's robes and hold on for dear sanity as his defenses against stupid gits were obliterated by soft, pumpkin-flavored lips on his and a hot, wet tongue lazily exploring his mouth. Then: Pleasure, like a kick to the backs of his knees, an ocean of fire swallowing him up. He was tingling all over like he had received a full body shock. Harry Potter, the electro-Malfoy-magnet.

"How perceptive, Malfoy. That was exactly why I was staring at you," Harry gurgled into Malfoy's neck as they broke apart for air and balance.

"Oh, good," Malfoy said, before ravaging Harry's earlobe in a distinctly pleasant manner which really should have felt more carnivorous than it did. Harry shuddered as his knees buckled under him; he was still feeling a bit off-guard and was unused to having the world spin like a sneakoscope on exam days. He thanked the wall for lending its support to this tryst.

"...because if I had guessed wrong I'd have to make sure you kept quiet about it." Malfoy finished.

"You'll still have to worry about that if you keep doing whatever it is you're doing to my neck," Harry gasped, taking a prolonged pause for breath as Malfoy gracefully slithered his thigh between Harry's legs, "but don't stop!"

Malfoy chuckled his appreciation for this tidbit of illogic into the tender skin at the joint of Harry's neck and jawline. "Come with me then." and Malfoy abruptly broke contact to lead Harry through what felt like mile after dizzy mile of stone castle, his thumb drawing out incredible sparking sensations from the palm of Harry's hand of all places as they distractedly searched for an appropriate cubby. They eventually found one in the form of an unused classroom that urgency declared to be relatively devoid of dust, and managed to arrange their school robes on the hard floor as makeshift padding though Harry was unsure as to how they accomplished this, hampered as they were by hazy explorations of the other's skin.

Harry groaned into Malfoy's mouth as finally Quidditch calloused fingers slid under his shirt to pinch a tanned nipple. Harry's eyes rolled back into his head as Draco deliberately rocked his linen-clad crotch into Harry's. It was clumsy, hurried, and Harry's heart was slamming against his ribcage like a captured bludger against its prison walls. He couldn't think, could barely breath actually as Malfoy swiftly absconded with his sanity. Apparently Draco was hardly better off,though tending much more towards silent appreciation; his hand trembled so badly in anticipation as he attempted to remove his trousers that he dropped the zip-pull no less than three times.

Harry's hips jerked towards Draco's in a most distracting manner; he didn't mind a few layers of clothing as long as he got more of that, more heat and more tension and more everything so the sensation could center in his cock.

"Malfoy" he groaned impatiently, but the hand did eventually succeed in its mission to remove both pairs of pants and underwear from their respective owners. The hips settled squarely back onto his, and Salazar Slytherin was a squib if it hadn't been worth the wait. Harry's spine arched violently as he desperately ground his hips into Draco's, head thrown back in abandon, and Merlin that felt good, and he was sure that his brain was leaking out of his cock if he could trust Draco like this but that was probably happening anyway and really he couldn't be bothered with something so insignificant when orgasm was flitting just out of his reach like the mother of all snitches. He tried to express this to Draco but he seemed to have lost all control of his muscles (his hips were moving of their own violation, he realized), and was quite simply beyond speech.

Instead he offered a heartfelt whimper which quickly progressed into a wordless shout as Draco bit down on his shoulder, and never mind how his shirt had come off because he was practically naked anyway and all he could see was white fire and he was absolutely sure that just another thrust...

Christ, but nothing should feel this good

... would send him screaming over the edge of the cliffs of insanity into a world where he could refuse Draco not even his slightest whim. He looked, and liked what he saw. Anything for more of this.

Harry jumped.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in the overstuffed armchair, acutely aware of Malfoy seated next to him and of Dumbledore's reproachful gaze.

"...very inappropriate behavior..." Dumbledore concluded, "...though it is refreshing to see such a drastic improvement in inter-house relations. Lemon drop, boys?"

Harry desperately to ignore Dumbledore's lecherous twinkle. Damn Malfoy for disrupting his perfect routine, anyway.