A/N: Have fun reading the second part of The way he moves.

I'm on my way to London for short holidays, so the next chapter will be uploaded probably on Monday or next Tuesday.


The black-haired boy had never thought that being a prima ballerina could be that exhausting.

After the first stretching and workout with the prig, Harry had the muscle cramps of his life.

When he had come into the training room, more than fifteen minutes earlier, Malfoy was already there. He sat on the floor and reached for his feet, his chest pressed to his legs, and his forehead touched his ankles. He only wore a plain black short and a black tee shirt, which was far too big for him and showed his white collarbone. His long, pale neck was clearly visible since the blond hair was in a bun, and Harry wanted to reach out to brush his fingertips over the soft looking skin.

"You're early.", Harry had said and watched him with disgust. His own thoughts made him nervous.

"So are you.", The other retorted, mumbling into his flesh and grabbed his ankles for one last stretch before he stood up again.

His feet were bare, no shoes, no socks and they were as long and graceful as the rest of Malfoy.

"You wanna start or stare, Potter?", He sneered and bent down, so his hands were touching the floor.

"Kiss my ass, Malfoy.", Harry snorted and let his bag fall to the floor so that he could get ready for dancing.

When he had tossed his jumper and glasses aside, Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "You're not going to warm up?"

"Nah, don't need it."

The blond crossed his arms in front of his chest, and the sneer on his face got worse, "You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?!"

Harry raised his hands over his head, scratching his neck and closed his eyes with annoyance. Why had Luna done that to him? Wasn't he a good friend to her, always?

"I already stretched before I came here.", he said after suppressing a huff, "However, your warm-up is probably just lame."

"Oh-ho.", Malfoy laughed cruelly, his foot playing with one of the neon stretching bands on the floor, "I think you've got no balls to work out like a ballet dancer."

Harry, who had wanted to get to the stereo for some proper music, stopped, "What did you say?"

"I said.", Malfoy spoke extremely slowly as if he was talking to a toddler or Goyle, the twit, "That you have probably no balls to be a ballet dancer."

He leaned on the barre and smirked. The muscles under his arms, although there were thin, were clearly outstanding.

"Not true."

"Than, what are you scared for?", Malfoy bared his teeth, "That you look like a sissy? That your friends think that it makes you gay?"

"Woa - Malfoy!", Harry famed angrily, "I'm not a homophobe."

"But that's what you and your friends think when you hear about a guy dancing ballet. That they are not as masculine as you and your golden hip-hop group are.", Malfoy held his hands up like he wanted to make his statement clear.

Harry opened his mouth to snap back, but nothing came out. He remembered suddenly all those moments when Seamus and Dean had laughed behind their hands about Malfoy being a ballet dancer, or none of the girls wanted to go to the Yule ball with him a few years ago.

"He'll probably just needs a substitute, so no one will know about him being a poofter.", Harry had heard Lavander Brown whisper to her friend, Parvati. That day Harry had called Sirius and asked him about poofter.

"It's something mean, something you don't want to call people around you.", His godfather had told and sighed, "People can't help who they fall in love with. It's not a decision, and no one had the right to judge them. Love is just love."

The ugly feeling in his gut, when Sirius had explained to him what it meant, never left him. He couldn't tell why he felt like that or what made him uneasy whenever someone used a slang word for being homosexual. It was just this way ever since.

"I don't think that, Malfoy.", Harry murmured, ashamed of his friends and their behaviour over the past few years, "And even if you're queer, it doesn't matter to me."

Those silver eyes went big. Malfoy hadn't expected Harry to give that response, apparently.

"Really?"

"Just show me your warm-up, ok?"

Malfoy looked like he wanted to add something, his full lips slightly open and the bottom pink from being nibbled. Instead of talking he went to the stereo, his shoulder brushed Harrys, and turned the music on.

Then they started, and Harry wished he had never been born. He did everything like Malfoy, imitated him, who didn't bat an eyelash on the training. While Harry's bouncy hair laid flat on his sweaty forehead, and his hands were slippery after a few minutes, Malfoy looked like he was ready to nap.

"Fucking hell.", Harry pressed between his teeth when he tried to do the split precisely like the blond boy in front of him, who watched him in the mirror at the wall with a big, bitchy smirk.

"You're alright, Potter?", he sniggered, his legs perfectly straight on the floor, no air could move under him.

"Fuck you, Malfoy.", Harry snapped and tried to ignore the loud chortle of the other boy. He struggled to move out of the position he sat in and watched Malfoy do a perfect string.

His butt was clearly noticeable in the black shorts, and it looked a bit like two perfect softballs. It was muscular and trained, but at the same time, it seemed so soft and squishy. Harry wondered how it would feel under his hand and if Malfoy would like to get touched there.

"Where the fuck are you staring at?", Malfoys shout tore him out of thoughts and Harry jerked.

Did he really fantasise about Malfoys ass?

"Nothing.", he blushed furiously, the tips of his ears felt hot and like they were ready to burn his hair.

Malfoy flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, "Right. Let's start to move. Show me the dance, Potter!"

Since that day, Harry went to meet Malfoy daily for training; and it was tough.

At first, they would stretch and warm up, and Malfoy made it clear that Harry couldn't go around that. He grabbed the black haired boy, pushed him down until his tendons screamed with pressure and he was sweating like mad.

Then Harry would start the music and show him the moves. He helped Malfoy to get into the figures, steadied him or clutched his thin hands to show him how they had to move, so it was correct.

All the while the blond never said anything against the choreography. They were still bickering like an elderly couple, but the intensity was gone. They shoved each other out of the way in the halls or snapped insults, while they stretched, but more often than not Malfoy started to laughed. Not at him, but about something Harry had said or the way his nose scrunched when Snape annoyed him. When they worked on the choreography, Malfoy didn't talk.

Silently he worked with Harry until even at his upper lip sweaty pearls piled up.

Harry couldn't help but admire him. Malfoy was good. Really good. His body still moved with the gracefulness of a ballet dancer Harry could never bring up, but he learned fast. Within a few days, Malfoy could dance Ron's and Harry's part, and they moved to complement the dance and Malfoys steps.

"You'll have to raise your head a bit faster.", Harry panted through the loud music and went to show Malfoy the move.

It was a lovely spring day. The sun shone bright and warmed the room unnecessarily. Since it was Saturday, they needn't go to classes and were training for hours.

Sometime around their third repeat of the whole dance, Malfoy had tossed his shirt aside and only wore his green shorts. His shoulders glistened in the sun. His blond hair wasn't in a bun again, brushing his chin with every movement and curling on the neck.

He rolled his head, and the strands were falling into his eyes, reflecting the sun and for a moment he looked like one of those ancient Greek statues Harry had seen in a museum.

Malfoy looked beautiful.

"Like that?", He huffed, and the spiteful tone was missing again. Like the ribbon which had held his hair up, the animosity between them had vanished.

Watching the other and seeing that they were good at something and constantly touching each other probably made that, Harry mused. He touched Malfoy more often than he had touched Ron. Perhaps because Ron just knew what Harry wanted from him, seven years of friendship a great assistant.

"No.", Harry said and stepped behind him to grab his head, so he could move it the way Malfoy should do, "This way."

Gently his hands guided Malfoys head in a small circle over and over again. Malfoy moved the rest of his body like he should in the choreography and Harry did the same. Feeling the soft hair and the hot scalp under his fingers made him want to reach out more. He stepped closer, his nose nearly touching Malfoys neck. The blond smelled terrific, something like apple pie and sharp aftershave and all Harry wanted to do was to bury his face in there, maybe even licking the small strip of pale skin and savour, if the other would taste as he smelled. Water poured into his mouth, and he had to swallow. With another step closer, they were chest to back, and they were grinding against each other. Harry felt Malfoys butt against his dick, and he wanted to press further, harder against the warm flesh, preferably without the layer of fabric.

"Malfoy.", he whispered when the other rubbed particular hard on him, and he felt his cock filling with blood.

When his breath ghosted over Malfoys sensitive skin, Harry felt him shudder.

Harry looked up, his hands still on place, Malfoy watched him out of big, heated eyes in the reflexion. There were red blotches in his usually pale cheeks, and the lips were shiny with spit. He licked over is own lips, and Malfoys eyes followed his tongue.

He just wanted to turn the blond around, so maybe they lips could meet in a heated kiss when he heard a cough. Malfoy tumbled away from Harry, who missed the body heat immediately.

Behind them were Hermione and Ron. While the girl smirked at them, an adorable flush spread on Malfoys chest, Ron looked confused.

"That wasn't in the original choreography.", His best friend stated, "Were you changing it?"

Harry wanted to shake his head, but Malfoy slapped him hastily on the back of his head, "Yeah, we'll change it a bit, if you're ok with it, Weasel."

Ron pouted and seemed to think about it, but then shrugged his shoulders, awkwardly leaning on his crutches, "Show me first."

"What?", Harry shouted, but Malfoy stepped in again.

"You see, ginger, the part with the head-roll? Instead of doing it far too hasty, Potter step behind me and do this here.", He grabbed Harry's head roughly and with, to the dark-haired boy's surprise, shaky fingers. He moved Harry's head, while moved to stand behind him. Malfoys breath was warm and somehow uncomfortable, while comfortable in his neck. They started to dance the part as they had before, but under the eyes of Harrys best friend all the sexual tension had vanished.

"We're not finished with working around that part.", Harry said when he saw Ron's doubtful face, "We had the idea only a few moments ago before you guys came in WITHOUT knocking, you see."

"Sorry, Harry.", Hermione smiled knowingly and grabbed her boyfriend's arm, "Come, Ronald. We can see the finish dance when Harry has the competition."

"But - ", Ron hobbled behind her to the door, "Aren't you interested in how they work together?"

Before Hermione closed the door, Harry could hear her saying, "Oh, I'm sure they work together just fine."

Harry gaped at the door, his puls still racing.

"I'm finished for today.", Malfoy said and avoided his eyes.

"Why?"

The blond searched his clothe and turned off the music, "I'm going to meet Luna in an hour, and I should shower first. See you tomorrow."

And then he rushed out of the room, leaving Harry and his madly drumming heart behind.

When Harry came into the common room later, Hermione was already waiting for him. She was sitting on the window niche and read a book, but when Harry tried to slip into his dorm, she merely raised an eyebrow.

Slowly he walked towards her and sat down on the niche.

"So."

"So.", he said, nibbling on his lip nervously.

"You and Malfoy, huh?!"

"Me and Malfoy?"

She snorted, "Come on, Harry. Don't play dumb."

He sighed. Harry wasn't ready to talk about Malfoy and the strange thing he felt for him. He wanted to figure it out entirely before he told his friends, but Hermione seemed to know it already. She always knew. Maybe Ron had been mean when he said she was a know-it-all, but he hasn't been wrong about it.

"You don't have to hide who you are, Harry."

"I'm not hiding, 'Mione.", he moaned, "It's just that I'm not sure what that is."

She blinked her brown eyes and asked sarcastically, "Really? And today?"

"It was the first time we came near each other, like that.", Harry whispered, "I'm not sure what he feels."

"He likes you, clearly. Or he wouldn't do that for you."

"Maybe, maybe not. Luna forced him into helping me with a secret."

She rolled her eyes, "You do know that Luna knows about his feelings for you. Even I know about his feelings for you for years."

"What?", He couldn't have heard right. Malfoy wasn't in love with Harry ... for years.

"Seriously, Harry!", She sighed with impatience, "Everyone knows. He likes you, and you like him."

"No!"

"Just think about it.", with that, she stood up, kissed his cheek lightly and went to bed.

Malfoy couldn't like Harry that way, couldn't he? They had hated each other for years, fought every day.

And Harry liked girls, hadn't he? There had been Cho and then Ginny. And while the relationship with Cho had been a disaster, he had been happy with Ginny. He had liked her enough, and they had shared the hobby dancing.

Something had been missing when he was with her, Harry knew, but could it have been this? Harry had never thought about another boy, although he had seen all his roommates naked before. He hasn't been interested. When he masturbated, he always thought about no one and nothing at all, only the feeling of thing that thing.

So, could he be gay?

Or was it just Malfoy?