Draco lay in his bed in the Slytherin Tower with his eyes shut. His calm, slow breath escaped through his partially open lips to flutter a silver lock of hair, which surrounded his head to form a halo on the pillow. He clutched a fistful of sheets in a loose fist. Despite his peaceful image, his mind raced. He had become excellent at appearing to be asleep ever since leaving his private room in the expansive Malfoy manor to attend Hogwarts.
How could he have been so stupid? Marking Potter, with his own initials, no less, had been rash and impulsive. Why would he even want to get so close to the boy? There was certainly nothing attractive about him. Draco pictured the other boy. Messy black hair… glasses… skinny… a slightly startled look on his face, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the drawer... Really, his only redeeming quality was his eyes. Such a lush shade of green, like a mysterious forest that you could walk into and never want to leave.
Draco's fist tightened around the sheets. He had had The Boy Who Lived in a Full-Body Bind, completely helpless, and he had- there was no other word for it- monogrammed him. Oh, yeah, Draco, great lesson. Well taught. He had treated the bane of his existence since that first ride on the Hogwarts Express like a new homemaker treats a towel set.
He had done a beautiful job on the initials, though, he told himself with a smirk. The letters were the same color as Harry's eyes, with silver curls looping around the elegant script. It was practically a work of art. So why had he plastered it on his archenemy's hip? He had heard that Muggles paid enormous amounts to do the same thing, except they actually take needles and jab the image into the skin. With Draco's work, the other boy wouldn't even have to worry about infections. What a waste. Although, he mused, it did give off the right message: I can touch you. I could hurt you anytime I wanted, so don't push me. Properly menacing, he decided, and carried off with style.
And it was worth it for the expression on the other boy's face as he had eased down his jeans….
In class over the next few days, Draco noticed with amusement that Potter seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him. But Granger and Weasley weren't paying any extra attention to his strange behavior, so Harry must have been too embarrassed to let on about the library incident. The initials would fade in another day or two, so no lasting harm was done. And yet, Draco was still puzzled by his own actions- as well as Harry's reaction. When Malfoy next saw him, he made a point of bumping into him.
"Watch where you're going," he snarled.
Potter, who hadn't looked Draco in the eyes since the library incident, glanced up. "Or what, you'll give me another tattoo?"
"You did seem to enjoy getting the last one," Malfoy drawled, "but really, too much pleasure isn't good for you." He noticed with satisfaction that the other boy was blushing crimson. Had he been right? The library lighting was rather dim, but he thought he had noticed something unusual about the shape of the other boy's jeans.
A bunch of giggling Hufflepuff girls pushed between them, and he lost sight of Potter. With the hint of a grin of his face, invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for it, Draco headed down the corridor.
Harry leaned against the wall, panting slightly. Had Draco suspected? Had he himself even guessed that, of all people, Draco Malfoy would turn him on? He had put it down to adrenaline in the library, but after their (almost) conversation, there was no mistaking it- he, Harry, fancied Draco Malfoy.
He let out a string of colorful curses before turning on his heel and heading to his next class.
