Harry entered the common room in a daze, hair more messy than usual and glasses slightly askew. He couldn't, wipe the stupid grin off his face. It was ridiculous, really, that the boy who had spent the last year in mutual hatred with him had just... He was slightly inclined not to believe it. He wouldn't if it weren't for the tingling in his lips, the fluttering in his stomach that told him: yes, you did just kiss Draco Malfoy. He shivered a little as he made his way to Ron and Hermione, who were sitting by the fire. The firelight enhanced his blush and it was only due to the fact that they were entranced with each other that his friends didn't notice. In fact, they didn't notice he was there at all until he coughed awkwardly. They jerked their gaze away from each other and turned to face Harry.
"Where were you?" Hermione asked, slightly accusingly. Harry flushed.
"Um. Stomach ache."
"Yeah?" Said Ron.
"Harry, we saw Malfoy was gone too."
"Oh well, we were, uh, fighting. Yes. He called your mother a ginger whore, Ron. Had to. Fight him, I mean." Harry revelled slightly at the look on Ron's face. After all, it was the sort of thing Draco would say. And he surely wouldn't mind Harry's lying if it insulted Ron at the same time. Suddenly Harry realised the reality of who it was he'd been kissing. Draco Malfoy, from a family of death eaters, most of whom were purebloods. Draco Malfoy, who rejoiced in insulting Harry's friends whenever possible. Draco Malfoy, who had pretended to be a dementor to scare Harry in a quidditch match. Draco Malfoy, who was a surprisingly good kisser.
"When did he say that?" said Hermione in a hushed tone.
"What? Oh, when I was washing my hands. So I punched him."
"Who won?" asked Ron a little too eagerly.
"Me." said Harry after consideration.
"Good," said Ron, and began to gnaw on some turkey he'd snuck out from the hall.
Draco smirked. Oh, yes. He had kissed Harry Potter. Ha. He traced a pattern on his thigh absent mindedly, as the two thugs he called 'friends' tried to figure out what to say.
"Where were you before?"
"Hmm? Me? Oh. Fighting Potter."
"Fightin'?"
"Yep. He insulted my mother. Couldn't have done anything else."
Goyle's brow creased. Crabbe's didn't. His expression was blank and he seemed to be in another world.
"Who won?"
Draco didn't even pause.
"Me."
Harry watched Draco on the Marauder's map before he went to sleep that night. Draco paced up and down the Slytherin common room for at least an hour before finally going to bed. It was only then that Harry let himself sleep, conscious that both of them would be dreaming of each other that night...
"Hello, Harry." Draco stood boldly in the middle of an entirely black room, clad only in green silk pajamas.
"Draco," said Harry, looking around. It was not so much a room; that implies walls, a floor and a ceiling, whilst this place seemed to expand endlessly.
"I didn't know you were the striped pajama time," Draco drawled. Harry looked down to see he was in his regular nightwear; no shirt and striped blue pajama bottoms. He concentrated and tried to change his clothes; he could do that sometimes when he knew he was dreaming, but not usually for such trivial matters.
"Doesn't work, Potter. You're completely awake. We're just somewhere.. different."
"Where?" asked Harry, bewildered and confused.
"Somewhere," said Draco, "somewhere where there is only me and you."
"What have you done?"
"Halucinor spell. Took me ages to master it. Now we can do whatever we like together, but we'll still be safe in our beds."
"Whatever we like," repeated Harry slowly.
"Anything."
Harry grinned. Draco's teeth shone dimly as he did the same.
Draco leaned back contentedly as light flooded upon him. He was tired, yes, and there were huge bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but hell, it was worth it. He forced his weary body from the bed, and slipped out of his green silk pajamas and into his uniform. He to concede, as he brushed his hair, Potter was a good kisser. He grinned. There were a lot of things Potter was good at. It was double potions first. Heaven. He made his way to the Great Hall, and ate the largest meal he'd had in his life. It seemed kissing gave him an appetite...
Harry's brain refused to accept that the previous night had been real. It had simply been a very elaborate dream- he had awoken in exactly the same place had he not? And the deep scratches Draco had run down his arms in the dream were not there now it was morning. He shrugged. It had been a good dream. He pulled his uniform on, suddenly wishing it was green so that he could sleep in the same room as Malfoy. The thought stuck in his brain, of how Draco would look asleep, how he'd look just waking up, with his hair in a mess. He slapped himself, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. Ugh.
"Uh, you alright Harry?" Ron was sat up in bed, his bare chest painfully ugly to Draco's. Or at least... Draco in his dreams.
"Um, yeah. Trying to wake myself up, you know?"
"By slapping yourself."
"Yes." said Harry, and ran down to breakfast, feeling no further explanation was needed.
The Slytherin table looked formidable. It was early, and only Draco, Blaise, Pansy Parkinson and a few first years sat there. Harry saw that Draco had heaped his plate with bacon and strawberries, and was eating with great gusto. He wondered how on Earth that could taste even edible. He made his way over. Of course, he wouldn't sit down, only ask Draco for a word. He needed to know if the dream was real. Well, not really. He needed to kiss Draco.
"Um, could I have a word, D-Malfoy?"
Draco looked up from his plate with an expression of disgust.
"What is it, Potter? Can't find any friends?"
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Alright, I'll talk to you." He rolled his eyes at Pansy, who giggled and fluttered her lashes. Then he followed Harry out of the hall into the corridor.
"Hey there, sexy." said Draco saucily. Harry gawked even more.
"Well I couldn't proclaim my love for you in front of them, could I?" asked Draco exasperatedly.
"I- suppose..."
"Well? You wanted to talk? You nearly embarrassed us both, so it must be important."
"This sounds stupid, but..."
"But..?"
"I dreamed about you last night. I was wondering if it was real."
Draco laughed, "You dreamed about me."
"Yes."
"Well there's your answer. Dreams aren't real, Potter."
Harry blushed, feeling completely stupid. But when Draco turned on his heel, he raised his eyebrows in such a way that Harry thought the halucinor spell might be real after all...