Disclaimer: Psssst. I'm not J.K. Rowling. Pass it on.

(A/N: Hurrah! My mom has stopped unplugging poor, innocent little Jeff (my computer, in case you are sane and do not name all your inanimate objects) and we are back online! Rejocify!

Or not.

Anyhow, I'm trying to update once a week and barring some horrific incident (which will probably be Jeff-related) I will actually be keeping that schedule. Or crying myself to sleep at night. One or the other.

Also, thank you to xKeiriax, Tinuviel Simbelmyne, emosk8erpunkrockerfreak, fifespice, and NatureLvrKittz for the splendid and worthwhile reviews. You are fab beyond reason, really...)

Chapter 2: Crushcrushcrush

If you want to play it like a game

Well come on, come on let's play

'Cause I'd rather waste my life pretending

Than have to forget you for one whole minute...

--Paramore

There was in fact very little difference between rotten flobberworms and fresh ones.

"Professor," began Harry in a voice that was somewhat strained with the repressed desire to hex the Potions Master severely, "I've finished—"

"Pressing though your engagements undoubtedly are, Potter, my detentions do not end until they have actually been served." A quick motion from his wand and the two roughly even containers Harry had been sorting the slimy mess of ingredients into had gone back to one full and one empty. "And do it correctly this time."

Harry sighed. This was more or less the way of every detention Snape had ever given him.

It was inconceivable that he'd only been there for twenty minutes.

This is all Malfoy's fault, he thought bitterly as he contemplated the freshness of the flobberworm presently sliming up his left hand. Him and his stupid…looking at me…thing…

Draco's smile hadn't left Harry's thoughts in over two days. He couldn't keep his focus; during Quidditch (a Bludger had nearly taken his head off twice before he'd even remembered he was on his broom); during lessons (he'd gotten double homework in both Charms and Transfiguration); even while eating (he'd spilled half his breakfast down his robes that morning), his mind was still on the strange and disconcerting feelings—

He shook his head vigorously. Wrong word, he corrected himself immediately. "Feelings" was certainly not a word which should ever be applied to Draco Malfoy. More like…more like…

He had no idea what it was like. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Silently, and with as little thought as possible, he started to sort out the flobberworms. Again.

OoOoOo

"Four hours," Harry said to no one in particular as he checked his watch. Four hours sorting the same container of flobberworms. Four hours in the dungeons, which were freezing year-round, always at least moderately dank, never lit properly, and smelled perpetually and unidentifiably of some sort of odd must. Four hours in a small confined area with (aside from Voldemort) his least favorite person.

"You've got slime on you, Potter," said his third least favorite person.

Harry was in no mood. "Bugger off or I'll kill you," he said gruffly as he tried to push past.

Draco didn't budge. "You're in quite a mood."

Harry's hand went instantly to his wand. But Draco's didn't.

"Why—?" he began, but he couldn't think of much else. He's not going to attack me?

"Attack me if you want, Potter, but that's not what I came for."

This is a trick. It has to be.

Very slowly, Draco raised his hand, palm up so Harry could see he didn't have his wand out. "See? Just there…" He ran a long finger down Harry's shirt front and stopped near the end of his tie.

Harry looked down. "I don't see—"

Draco lifted Harry's chin and kissed him very forcefully on the mouth.

Harry's eyes welded shut and his entire universe closed down for a good two minutes. When he opened them again, Draco was still kissing him. And he was kissing back.

No. Bad. I hate him.

But he didn't move. Because somehow it felt strangely good, strangely…right, and as Draco's arms folded around him, it felt nothing short of natural.

No.

And even when Draco pulled away, Harry couldn't speak.

"I knew it," Draco breathed in Harry's ear, drawing the other boy close against his chest; Harry squeaked minutely. "When I saw you looking back; you've never looked back. I knew it. I was so—"

"N-No." He said it aloud this time. "You're—I don't—I'm not—No!"

"What?"

Draco stumbled backward as Harry pushed him harder than was necessary. "Leave me alone!"

"Wait! Potter, wait!"

Harry wouldn't have gone back for anything.

OoOoOo

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed worriedly. She and Ron were alone in the common room by the time Harry had sorted himself out enough to deal with his friends. "You've been ages! We were starting to—are you all right?"

"You look like shit, mate," said Ron. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Harry looked at the two of them. His two best friends, the two most loyal, caring people he'd ever met, two people who'd follow him to the ends of the earth, the two people he trusted more than anyone.

"I'm going to bed," he said miserably as he trudged up the dormitory stairs.

OoOoOo

"No, Potter," Snape said the next afternoon, his typical evil sneer unusually prominent. "I think I'll seat you somewhere less…distracting today."

Harry paused halfway through the act of settling his books next to Ron and Hermione. "Er…"

"You'll work with Malfoy today." The grin widened. "Perhaps he can teach you to do it properly."

"Professor—"

"Yes?" He eyed Harry with a look that clearly stated "I am about to dock your house more points than the mind can comfortably imagine".

"Er…nothing," said Harry quickly.

"Instructions are on the board." He sat down behind his desk and resumed his endless essay-correcting without another word.

Harry took the seat next to Draco with as much dignity as he could as he muster.

"Potter—"

"Could you hand me that scale, Malfoy?" Harry interrupted.

"I'm not handing you anything, Potter. Tell me why you ran."

"I'm not talking about that here."

"You've avoided me everywhere else. This is the only time I've got you to stay still long enough to get a word in."

"Has it occurred to you that I don't want a word?"

A light pressure exerted itself on Harry's thigh.

"Take your hand off me, Malfoy."

"What if I don't?" Draco mused. "What if I…"

Blood filled Harry's mouth as he bit his tongue, forcefully repressing the gasp that threatened to rise from his throat. "What are you—st-stop!" He didn't dare raise his voice.

"I don't think you mind," Draco said lightly.

Harry tried to slide away, but at a shared desk there was nowhere for him to go. His eyes darted around the room, but no one had even noticed them talking, let alone what was going on now.

Dammit…

"You're making me miserable, Potter," Draco said quietly, his face impassive. "I can't keep my concentration. See what that's like?"

Harry kicked him under the table. Draco barely reacted, but his hand retreated to a more harmless area of Harry's body.

"That's how you want to play it, then?" He folded his arms and smiled. "All right. I don't mind a chase."

Harry was still breathing heavily. "I—I don't—I—"

"Yes," said Malfoy. "You mentioned that."

Harry put his face in his hands and sighed. He had suddenly got the feeling he was going to be needing a lot of air that night.

(a further A/N: Didn't plan on the end of the chapter being quite so...er...questionable...but that's how it ended up. Just seemed the sort of thing Draco would do, at least the way I have him characterized. Also, an enquiry: On the whole, are there any objections to smut? I was planning on throwing some in over the next few chapters (Nothing horrifying, but there will be sex...and I will of course have to up the rating...). So if you stand firmly against it or something, I'll take it into consideration. Or if you stand firmly in support of it. I am very much on the fence about this. Please help me as fences are uncomfortatble to sit on and I am very clumsy and will probably fall and hurt my frail little self.)