Chapter three! Thanks for all the reviews and adds so far! We have quite the adventure ahead of us! X3
His silver watch that told him the place, mood and time he was in was broken, his sweater-vest was ruined, his collared shirt stained with pink and designer shoes destroyed from Harry Potter's spill the day before. However, Draco had a feeling that it was going to be a good night. He dressed in casual clothes, as his other uniforms were in the wash. He left his private room to go to the Great Hall and found Harry sitting with his friends. He had emerged into the room with eleven other students that all went in different directions. He stood there, watching Harry. His long lashes and the candles levitating around the hall cast shadows down his face, his platinum hair shining and skin practically sparkling. He was at ease, having left his wand in his room; there was no need to fear going in to the boy's bathroom anymore and there was certainly no fear in going in to the Great Hall anymore. He examined Harry from afar; he must have borrowed clothes from Ron Weasley. He was wearing a sweater, ill-fitting jeans and shoes Draco could tell were too tight. He smirked to himself; their friendship was just so bizarre.
He began his strides in the room, never feeling so confident before. It took a few moments, but soon the entire hall was silent. All eyes were on him, watching him move across the floor to where Ron Weasley glared, Hermione Granger stared quizzically and Harry turned to meet Draco's intent gaze. Draco's heart was pounding out of his chest, his pulse's violent race giving him a headache as he reached the table. He looked down at Harry and put his hand out,
"Potter, come with me,"
Harry's face broke into a handsome smile, "Yeah, sure,"
Ron's arm reached across the table, gripping Harry's right wrist, looking to him angrily, "No, Harry,"
Hermione glanced between her boyfriend and The Boy Who Lived anxiously.
"That's the potion talking, Harry, remember," Ron reminded him.
Harry looked to Ron, then back to Draco and he frowned deeply,
"My friends say I shouldn't, Malfoy. What are you planning?"
"Who's more important?"
"What?"
"Your friends, or me, the love of your life?"
Harry scowled, blushing, "You are not the love of my life, Malfoy, you're just what I have to deal with right now,"
Draco's lips slanted, "Well, I'm awfully put out now,"
"Good," Ron snapped.
Draco sighed, "Well, I suppose we're even now,"
Harry cocked a brow, "…what do you mean?"
"You said you blamed me for what happened and you were embarrassed about it and angry. Well, now that the entire Great Hall has watched me be shot down by someone who is supposed to be physically incapable of saying no to me and your peasant has insulted me, I am officially, royally humiliated and aggravated, and you know what?"
Harry gulped as Draco took his hand back into one of his pants pockets, leaning down to Harry's ear and muttering,
"I blame you,"
Draco straightened his back, his face as unreadable and stoic as ever. Draco had been under the Imperius for so long, he didn't really remember that he was capable of making expressions other than glares. He tilted his head, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes as if exhausted,
"I suppose you won't change your mind, then. Very sorry, then, Potter. Don't go thinking I'll tell you what I had planned for us, though,"
He began walking back towards the doors in utter silence and under the heavy weight of stares. This ended, though, when he heard a shuffle just six feet away from the doors and he turned while hearing Harry's voice echo,
"I'm sorry,"
Draco looked to him, "Apology accepted,"
Harry's sad expression turned angry, "You know I'm not,"
He simpered, "Of course,"
He put his hand out again and took the risk of allowing it to go un-taken for a second time, or rather, a third time, but he watched the horror etch itself onto Ron Weasley's face and confusion unto the girl beside him as Harry walked up to Draco with pride swelling in his chest. He gingerly placed his hand into Draco's and he blushed furiously when he felt Draco's dexterous hand twist against his own and his spidery, smooth fingers twine with his. He met Draco's eyes that were surprisingly soft and sympathetic looking. He saw the hint of a smile draw itself onto Draco's perfect face, making his heart skip a beat. Draco Malfoy's aura of elegance and sophistication had always erupted jealousy in Harry, a jealousy he never truly accepted or allowed to show. That refinement filled Harry like a rising sun when it was so modest; just like the way he smiled. It was barely there at all, no tangible evidence that anything so beautiful ever actually existed but it was in the corners of his full lips, invisibly twisted into a semi-smile. It was hypnotizing and only there if you looked hard for it; like a silent room when the light enters just right and you can see the little particles of dust in the air. Harry blamed his heart's reaction on the potion raging through his body like a tornado of fanboyish infatuation focused completely on his worst enemy. The first person he had ever attempted to kill.
Harry tried to feel some form of dislike fill him, tried to think back to his failed attempt to kill Draco, even to the time he fought Draco one-sidedly in the boy's restroom the year before. Nothing came, though, only more adoration. What was worse was his vision; his glasses were just fine, but his eyes kept running down and looking at the back of Draco's designer jeans. They were too tight. Not too tight, really, they fit Draco perfectly. That was the problem; they were too tight. Harry gulped inaudibly, a familiar, borderline barbaric desire coming back to him as he realized they were on moving stairs.
"You're holding my hand,"
"I'm quite aware,"
"…why?"
"I want to take you somewhere,"
"You could take me there without holding my hand," Harry told him, his eyes still stuck below the boy's tailbone.
"I thought you'd like it,"
"…turn around,"
Draco faced him; Harry released a loud exhale.
"What's wrong, Potter?"
Just as I thought, they're just as tight in front…
"…Potter?"
Harry licked his lips and Draco's heart bumped in worry and his abdomen ached with interest when he watched Harry's pupils enlarge like a shark on the prowl.
"…Potter? W-what's wrong with you?"
Harry looked up, his eyes dark and all on his mind was that slightly visible bulge attached to the somewhat feminine waist of his recent obsession. Draco backed away a step,
"Potter, answer me,"
"Your pants…"
Draco glanced down at himself, shortly wondering if his fly was down, but then looked to Harry again,
"What about them?"
There was a thick silence and it struck Draco; they were fit. He tried to ignore it although his face turned a brilliant red, knowing now that Harry Potter was imaging him naked. He felt so self-conscious that he had to turn away. He tightened his hand around Harry's,
"Keep it pure, Potter,"
"W-what?"
"I'm not having my innocence ruined by you,"
"You're a virgin?"
Draco answered bitterly, "As far as I know,"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, forget it. Just come along and stop ogling me,"
Harry was dragged behind Draco again, mumbling angrily, "I was not ogling!"
"Right, right, it was the potion staring, I know, now just shut up and follow me,"
Harry grunted but reluctantly kept silent the rest of the way. He was blindly led to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the balcony scattered with telescopes pointed upward. As they passed the balcony, Harry wondered aloud,
"The Astronomy Tower?"
"Not exactly,"
"What do you mean?"
Draco didn't answer, but rather took Harry to the adjacent classroom through a window he struggled to open. Harry asked his question again, but it went, again, unanswered as they began to climb into the room.
"Why are we sneaking in from the balcony?"
"Flitwick locks his door. We have to get into his room, and the Astronomy room is always open. This is the only way to get to where I'm taking you,"
"Which is where now?"
Draco looked back at him halfway through the window, the small of his back arched, creating a perfectly rounded and tantalizing distraction for Harry as he muttered,
"Keep your pants on, Potter, I'm about to effing show you,"
Keeping my pants on is about all I can manage currently…
Draco cocked a brow, as if he were able to hear Harry's thoughts.
"Keep your eyes on mine, Potter,"
"Shut up, Malfoy,"
"You're the one getting a hard-on the moment I bend over,"
"Certainly isn't your first time doin' it,"
Draco scowled and blushed, "Your attitude is disheartening, Potter,"
That's all he's got? What's gotten into him? Why isn't he pulling out words like 'mudblood' or 'muggle-sympathizer' or 'scarhead' or 'potty'?
"Your face is disheartening, Malfoy,"
"Your face is glued to my ass, Potter, don't even try to hide it,"
Harry's cheeks brightened, "You wear tight pants! Shut up!"
Draco smirked, "Nice comeback,"
"Nice retardation,"
"That doesn't even make sense,"
"Does too,"
Draco's beautiful eyes rolled dramatically, "You are so infantile,"
"I'm sorry, I don't speak obnoxious,"
"Yeah, retards usually have a hard time translating,"
Harry growled in unwilling surrender, "Just take me to wherever the hell you're taking me, Malfoy,"
"Gladly,"
Draco slipped his legs over the ledge and he brought Harry behind him, their hands still entwined. He rushed to the front of the room, the moonlight providing their only source of direction. Draco climbed onto the top of Flitwick's desk and Harry asked again, what it was exactly Draco was doing. He just glared and mumbled something about pretending not to hear him anymore. Harry would have crossed his arms in a frustrated huff, but his hand was still being held. Harry stared at the connection suspiciously, fighting back the urge to smile. There was something really nice about Draco's hand against his. Whether it had to do with how smooth and pampered Draco's skin felt against his own rough, broom-callused fingers or how it filled Harry with a flood of security and fulfillment and unadulterated nirvana, he couldn't tell. Suddenly their eyes met and Draco's shocking azure irises were sparkling with secret intentions,
"Come on,"
Harry was aided by their linked hands onto the desk and he saw that Draco had removed a ceiling tile.
"I put a silencing charm around us, since the ceiling is made of stone blocks, I figured it'd be loud if I took one out. Just tug it back in once we make it up there,"
"Malfoy, are you sure this is a good idea?"
Draco chuckled uncharacteristically, "Where's your Gryffindor sense of adventure, Potter?"
Harry sighed and followed Draco up. He pulled the stone back into place from its spot in levitation, finding himself in something akin to an attic. Large enough that dusty boxes and a small couch could be found and there was a white light coming from one end of the small room. Draco, crouched down slightly, as was Harry, led him to the source. He pulled down more stones and stepped up on them, leading Harry to a much brighter area. He squinted, cold rushing through his hair, his hand tightening around Draco's in anticipation. He opened his eyes completely and exhaled deeply in surprise,
"…this is…"
"The top of Hogwarts, that's right,"
Harry looked to the blonde, "How did you find this?"
Draco looked away, his hand suddenly seeming weak in Harry's, "I've had to…lead people to the castle before where…no one else would see me,"
Draco's confident aura changing so drastically to something so vulnerable and broken scared Harry and he wanted nothing more than to make Draco laugh. He looked up, grinning in hopes that it would spread,
"It's beautiful out here," He said conversationally, "You can see all the stars from here, not even the Astronomy balcony has this kind of view!"
Draco met Harry's eyes again, "Well, I took you here because I know this potion is going to drive you nuts and I don't want…I don't want you to make more of an idiot out of yourself during school than you already do, so…I come here every night, so if you ever need me…or want to see me or something…you can meet me here in secret. No embarrassment, that way, I figured,"
Harry flustered, his heart fluttering,
"That's…incredibly…uhm…sweet…of you…Draco,"
"…thanks…"
Harry felt his palms getting sweaty, but he didn't want Draco to let go. He was beginning to forget what it felt like to have his hand free.
"Do you mind that?"
"Mind what?"
"My calling you Draco,"
"…not at all,"
"Call me Harry,"
Draco smiled weakly, "Very well, Harry. You can meet me here now,"
"Yes…thank you,"
Harry leaned forward, his free hand clasping Draco's jaw gently, "Really, thank you, Draco,"
"Y-yes, you're welcome,"
"Do you mind that?"
"Mind what now?"
"My touching you,"
With Harry's left hand cupping his face tenderly and his right hand preoccupied with Draco's fingers roped around his and their silhouettes toe-to-toe, Draco couldn't help his heart rate from intensifying. He kept his eyes on anything but Harry's, scared that he might turn to a puddle if he looked into them,
"No, I don't mind it,"
Harry rested his forehead against Draco's, their hair meeting and looking the same shade of ivory due to the dying of the moon. Harry's breath was so close to Draco's he could feel the letters of Harry's words meeting his lips and melting away against his heated flesh.
"Would you mind it, Draco, if I kissed you?"
Harry wanted to laugh at feeling the boy stiffen in nerves and his palms begin to sweat like Harry's own, he could almost hear Draco's heart pounding and could feel all the warmth radiating from his handsome face.
"Y-yes, I'd mind it, Harry,"
He was disappointed, "…oh, I…right,"
Harry went to further himself from Draco, but his spidery hand curled around Harry's sweater, pulling him back. He pressed their foreheads together again, taking Harry's hand in his own free on and making it come back to the side of his face,
"That doesn't mean I want you to stop…stop being close to me or anything,"
"But—"
"Stop asking questions, Harry, you're so goddamn annoying with that,"
Harry immediately shut his mouth, choking back a laugh.
"Sorry, Draco,"
"Of course, Harry,"
"You know I'm not really,"
"Of course, Harry,"
The cool, stoic sound of Draco's voice was a relief. With Hermione always angry about something and Ron always complaining, the lull of Draco's even tone made his heart warm. His stomach squirmed and his heart skipped a beat when he suddenly felt Draco's hand crawling up his shirt. He looked at Draco's stare that was stuck on his free hand take away his sweater,
"What are you doing?"
"You look ridiculous dressed in Weasley's hand-me-downs,"
Harry would have defended Ron had he been there, but since he wasn't, Harry had to agree that he even felt ridiculous wearing such ill-fit clothing. He backed away a little and helped by taking the hand from Draco's cheek to the hem of the sweater, but when it was pulled over enough that it met at their linked hands, their gazes met.
"What should we do?"
Harry was shocked by the question. Not because it was insanely cute that Draco saw no answer to this puzzle that pleased him, but because he was troubled with the idea of their hands being unchained as well. He did, hesitantly take his hand away so that the sweater would fall and just as it did, he was pushed to the ground. He looked up in shock as Draco straddled over Harry's legs, leaning back and removing the tight shoes. He laughed looking at it, then to Harry,
"These shoes are almost three sizes too small for you,"
"Ron's shoe size is nothing to sneeze at, but I know,"
Draco removed his shoes and put them onto Harry's feet; they fit perfectly.
"There. Take mine for now,"
Harry blushed for the umpteenth time of the night, "Thank you, Draco,"
"You're welcome, Harry. I would give you my jeans so you wouldn't have to walk around in that baggy monstrosity, but I'm thinner than you and mine would probably be a bit binding and I can't imagine I'd be much graceful walking around in those—I'd trip and probably make a royal idiot out of myself,"
"…and you wouldn't want to strip me of that either, right?"
"…what?"
"You would give me your jeans, but you wouldn't want me stripping down in front of you,"
"…right. Right, of course. Yes, you know that, though,"
"…yes, of course,"
Draco stared at Harry's chest for a while, virile and broad and satin looking in the moonlight. He put a hand out and touched to where he could feel Harry's racing heart,
"This is really going to suck,"
Harry remembered his words, thinking then that Draco Malfoy would be his usual self; cold, immature and aggravating, but something was different. He was almost…okay with it. Almost.
He laughed, "Yeah…I'm sorry,"
"I know you don't mean it,"
"Yeah, I know,"
