It was September, and an unbelievably warm one, at that. It was Sunday; Hermione was off studying with a pussy-whipped Ron, and I was alone. Not that that was a bad thing, au contraire, I relished it. Since Voldemort has been dead, everyone has hounded me constantly, and I've hated it. Peace, for me, does indeed go hand in hand with quiet. And it seems ironic that even though I killed my biggest enemy and the world's biggest menace, I've had less of both. Perhaps when I was "unstable", people were more afraid of me and left me alone more. Maybe I should go fake doing something insane to get some privacy again.

I wandered out of the castle, intent on fresh air and sunshine. It was so gorgeous out I didn't even need a cloak, and headed for the bridge so I could get a good view.

Unfortunately, someone was already up there, leaning on the railing, lost in thought. But that registered a few seconds after I noticed the most beautiful ass I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was encased, like a precious object, in very expensive-looking, light-wash denims, and I was practically drooling. Drawn towards it like a zombie, I naturally wasn't looking where I was going, and so tripped. Loudly. Which was a shame, because now that ass turned around so I could see who it was attached to.

Draco Malfoy. Nooooo! Damn, damn, and double chocolate donut damn. Why did it have to belong to him? I was seriously pissed, and slightly turned on as he glared at me. "What are you doing here, Potter? Don't you have better things to do than stalk me?"

That would have been funny, if he didn't actually look irritated that I was there. "It is a free country, Malfoy, and don't flatter yourself – I didn't you know were here, obviously. If I'm disturbing you, I'll leave." I offered, softening my voice a little.

He stared at me a few seconds, then shrugged and turned back around. "I don't care, Potter."

I smirked. Well, if he didn't care, I'd stand there and admire his ass some more.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes went by as I stood there, daydreaming. My enemy or not, he really would look fine in one of those things competitive swimmers wear. Speedong? Speedo? Yes, that was it…a Griffindor red one would be delicious…

His voice interrupted my inner pervert's dialogue. "I can feel you staring, you know."

Oops. Oh well - I didn't regret it. In fact, I enjoyed it enough to say something that I suspected would shock him. "How can you expect people not to stare when those denims fit so perfectly?"

He replied with an automatic preen, "Malfoys are always impeccably tailored…" Then he spun around. "Potter, was that a thinly veiled admission that you were checking me out?"

I grinned at him. "Possibly".

He walked toward me slowly. "You do know that I should be very angry about that, right? That I should come over there and punch you for being a pervert?"

I exhaled loudly. "Yes, I suppose you should." I bit my lip, and then asked. "But you're not going to, are you?"

His eyes seemed to light up as he stood right in front of me, so close I could feel his breath before he answered. "No, I'm not." And then I found myself with an armful of sun-warmed boy, and minty lips were caressing mine.

I stood there like an idiot as he broke away, eying me warily, as if to ascertain whether I'd reject him. So I did the only sensible thing – leaned up slightly, and kissed him back.

He sighed into my mouth as he slid his hands in my hair and kissed me harder, using his teeth and tongue as our contact escalated into something hotter, more desperate, more passionate. And then he did the unthinkable.

Draco took my hands from waist, slid them around his back, and down to that perfect ass. And, of course, I couldn't help myself – I squeezed. And he moaned – loudly. And it was then I decided that peace and quiet, when compared to Draco Malfoy's moan and ass, are highly overrated.