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Hello Duckies! I'm back, with a lovely chapter this time…and I hope that you will forgive me for the obscene delay. This one will have a little something for everyone…a little bit of evil Draco, a little bit of confrontational Harry, and a little bit of fluffy nonsense that I hope will satisfy. .

MAN SMEXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, not really…but I figure that should scare away those that have no business reading my story. ^-^

DISCLAIMER: I do not own them, yadayada…but I wish I did.

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The next day passed by in a blur, with both boys too lost in their thoughts (or schemings) to bother trying to bring up what had happened between them. As the days progressed, though, the growing tension between them was drawing the attention of even the most oblivious students. Draco knew that he was standing on perilous thin ice, and that in order for him to push Potter in the direction he wanted him before that ice broke, he would have to be very subtle about it.

Draco had broken his plan – dubbed the "Make Potter love me for the Sex god I am so that I can Crush Him into Little Bitty Pieces" plan- down into stages. Stage One was Keeping Potter Guessing. He left him to stew for a few days, not really paying him any attention, but not openly snubbing him either. Most importantly, he wasn't instigating any form of conflict…he hadn't even insulted the Weasel clan, or that bushy Granger once. Potter was confused, and as Draco had expected, brooding over their kiss in silence, unable to find any way to bring it up without the help of Draco being an arse.

He had been in the library one afternoon and overheard the Golden Side-kick's asking Potter if everything was all right, and whether or not something had happened. He stepped over into the next aisle, positioning himself a few feet behind the weasel and the mudblood so that Potter could clearly see him. He watched as he opened his mouth to reply, then caught sight of Draco standing there watching him, and quickly shut his mouth again. Draco smiled at him, enjoying the way that his eyes widened comically at the sight, and quietly walked away. Inside he was triumphant. So Potter hadn't told his friends what had happened yet…and that meant that it was time to move on to Stage Two before he worked up the Gryffindor courage to do so.

Stage Two had to potential to be the hardest and most crucial part of his whole plan; Make Potter See my Good Points. After having spent years building a reputation of undisguised malice and rivalry with the Boy Who Wouldn't Die, undoing that in as little time as possible was going to be difficult. Somehow, he had to convince Potter that he had undergone a radical change of heart…and the only way to do that was to drown him in unexpected kindness. At first Draco had balked at the very idea of being nice to his long-time rival, but then he realized that it was necessary for his plan to work, and that since the kindness was a deception in and of itself, it would be mildly satisfying in its own way. His first chance came about a week after the Incident, and after checking to make sure that there was no one around to witness it, Draco quickly moved in.

Potter had been partnered with Longbottom in Potions, as Snape had never really forgiven him for the whole cat-ears thing, and when their cauldron predictable exploded- covering the entire dungeon room in slime that induced fits of giggles- Snape assigned them both detention, then ran from the room in a swirl of black robes before the students could hear him giggle in an undignified manner. Longbottom was busy scrubbing the entire room clean, laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter had been sent to another room to scrub out all of the cauldrons. He was coming down the hallway carrying a precarious stack of cauldrons and laughing quietly to himself when Draco found him. Stepping out in front of him, he deliberately ran into the oblivious Griffindor, grabbing his elbows to steady him as the cauldrons clattered to the floor around them. Pulling the smaller boy flush up against him, he fixed his face into a mask of sheepish surprise and smiled apologetically down at the confused brunette. Green eyes blinked, and then met his angrily, but Draco moved to cut him off before the accusations could start to fly. Swallowing his pride, he looked down at the other boy and …began to lie.

"I'm sorry about that Potter…I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you coming until it was too late." Looking around them at the scattered cauldrons, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and casually slid his hands from Potter's elbows to settle on his surprisingly thin waist. "Geez, look at all of them…and after you just cleaned them, too."

He returned his gaze to the Griffindor, amusement shining in his eyes when he realized that the dark haired boy was standing stiffly, his hands clenched into fists and arms at his sides, eyes locked on Draco's hands at his hips. Trying not to laugh, as that wouldn't go with the apologetic personae he was putting on, he flexed his fingers over Potter's hip bones once, then abruptly let him go, moving to pick up the nearest cauldron. A small, gleeful voice in the back of his mind was systematically analyzing Potter's every move, and it noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he had shocked and confused the boy so thoroughly, that he hadn't giggled once since they collided. Forget giggling! He seemed too confused to even put together a coherent sentence! Draco had to hide a small grin as he straightened with two of the cauldron in his arms. Perfect.

"Well Potter, since this is kind of my fault, and since you had your wand taken away for your detention, I'm going to charm these cauldrons into the storage room, and we just won't tell Professor Snape, okay?" He shot the boy another small smile, before taking his wand out of his pocket and levitating the cauldrons towards the storage closet with a flick of his wrist. The last one had just floated through the door when Potter finally seemed to get his voice back. Staring at Draco suspiciously, he frowned and cleared his throat.

"What…what exactly are you doing, Malfoy?"

Draco looked back at him, trying his best to seem innocent of any and all plotting. "I'm helping fix the mess I made…isn't that kind of obvious, Potter?"

Harry's brow furrowed, and his eyes glittered with barely contained confusion and general mistrust. He was off-balance, and it was painfully obvious to Draco that he didn't like it one bit. "I can see that Malfoy…the question is why? Why did you bother, why do you even care? Why?"

Draco smiled and stepped forward, stopping mere inches away and looking into his eyes for a long moment, before reaching up and wiping a bit of potion sludge off of Potter's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Why not?"

.......

A few moments later found Draco sauntering towards his room, satisfaction radiating from every pore on his body. The look on Potter's face! Oh, it was priceless, and it was only the beginning. By the time that he got through with him, the poor bastard won't be sure of anything anymore…and when Draco moves in for the kill, he'll never even see it coming.

.......

So the next two weeks passed by quickly, with every little action on Draco's part sending Harry further into confusion. Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, the blonde had realized not only would acting subtly and inexplicably sweet work towards achieving his goal, it would also prevent Potter from being able to confide in his friends. After all, what on earth would he say to them? "Guys, I'm afraid that Malfoy is up to some nefarious plot…he complimented me on the color of my eyes today." Draco chuckled into his porridge, trying to imagine how that conversation would go.

Because he had been complimenting Potter…on everything from the color of his eyes, to his newfound sense of fashion and even on the way that his hair fell into his eyes and curled around his ears. Surprisingly, it was not as difficult as he had thought it would be for the Slytherin to find nice things to say about his rival. It was slightly unnerving at first, even if it did make his act all the more believable, but eventually he had been able to rationalize it. After all, he was someone who appreciated attractive things, and somewhere along the line Potter had fallen into that category. He had to admit that he had developed some sort of obsession with his hair…it was just so dark and curly and completely untamable, yet it was surprisingly soft and it smelt like vanilla. And he should know, as one of his newfound favorite ways of messing with Harry involved coming up behind him and twisting a dark lock around his finger while he remarked on something casual and irrelevant, or simply tucking an unruly strand behind the raven's ear with no explanation at all.

He had made it a point to invade Harry's space as much as possible, without drawing unwanted attention from others. He would catch the boy alone between classes or at a moment where even the other 2/3s of the Golden Trio were too busy to be paying attention, and then stand as close as he could get away with. He would talk of the most inconsequential things –upcoming Quidditch games, or shortcuts available on last night's transfiguration homework- but his actions would brief and intimate. So far, the Golden Boy still had not figured out how to deal with this new approach. He would stammer out replies, his wide eyes fixed on Draco's face or on the hands casually settled on his waist or stroking his inner wrists, but he could never seem to voice the questions swirling just under the surface of his eyes. As far as Draco was concerned, this was perfect. The more foundation he could manage to lay down before Potter finally cracks and initiates Stage Three, the better.

He made the most progress at night, when the mildly insomniac Chosen One would wander the corridors, aimlessly and mercifully alone. He had stumbled upon these nightly walks quite by accident the year before, and now he used that knowledge to his advantage, intercepting his green-eyed prey when he least expected it and accompanying him on his wanderings for a few moments before slipping away. The first night Potter had drawn his wand on him, but after seeing that Draco was unarmed and claiming to simply be unable to sleep, his Gryffindor morals made him put his wand away. He did manage to tell him to sod off, but Draco was undeterred by his apparent lack for want of company and persisted.

Slowly, he could tell that the other boy was coming to accept his presence on his nightly jaunts, and he was lengthening the time he spent with him on them, but he knew that if he made any sudden moves at this point, the confused and stressed Gryffindor would bolt like a frightened animal. Still, he could tell he was making progress. They never spoke much at night, they simply walked side by side- Draco perhaps a little closer than strictly necessary- through the dark and dusty unused corridors, their way illuminated by the light from their wands. Nights was a time for thinking for Harry, and too much sound would wake the portraits and perhaps draw attention from Peeves or his ilk, but the silence had morphed from an awkward one to something akin to companionable. Why, just last night they had ended up in the astronomy tower, staring up at the stars until early in the morning…and Potter hadn't even noticed that half the time Draco's fingers were in his hair.

Draco bit back another grin, pushing away his porridge and ignoring Pansy's pout as he gathered his books and headed for class. His plan was working flawlessly, so not even Pansy's bitching that he was neglecting her could bring down his mood. First class was History of Magic with the Gryffindors, and from the looks Potter had been shooting him over breakfast and the way he's acted last night, Draco had a feeling that today was the day he finally cracked. Sure enough, about halfway through class, just when Draco thought he'd fall asleep from Professor Binn's droning voice, Potter made his move. He had just finished pinching his leg for the fourth time to force himself awake, when messy script not his own began scrawling its way across his otherwise blank notes.

Sleepy Malfoy? Do try to stay awake a moment longer.

Startled, Draco caught himself actually looking around for a moment, before his searching silver gaze caught Potter watching him from the corner of his eye. Ah. Picking up his quill, he placed it on the page and wrote 'Whatever for?' and noted with satisfaction that beside his own elegant script, Potter's handwriting looked like a toddler's. Nothing happened for a moment, and he was beginning to feel a little foolish when words once again began appearing as though written by a ghostly hand.

You're always going on about how smart you Slytherins are, can't you take a guess?

Draco smirked, and quickly replied.

'Let's pretend, just for a moment, that I was sorted into…oh, say, Gryffindor. Humor me.' A reply came much more quickly this time.

You, a Gryffindor? The world shudders at the thought. So why pretend?

He chuckled. So his little lion had finally gotten his bite back. He pushed aside the little voice that questioned his use of the possessive. 'I just enjoy making you spell it out.'

Prick.

'Yes?' He could practically hear Potter grinding his teeth, but he could see that the corners of his mouth were twitching upward, just a bit.

We need to talk.

'About?'

You have to ask? Meet me in the astronomy tower, midnight?

And there it was…Boy Wonder's first move. But this wouldn't do, it gave the raven the semblance of the upper hand to extend the invite, and Draco needed to go into this with it clear that he was the one in control. He needed to push him just a bit further…

'No.'

He set his quill down and steadfastly ignored any further writing, knowing full well that this would infuriate the Gryffindor into further action…but not in front of others, never that. Not surprisingly, he was grabbed and pulled aside moments after class ended, and dragged to the nearest empty classroom. The door was shut behind him, and he was spun around to face a very irritated brunette. "Why the hell not?" the smaller boy demanded without preamble, his hands clenched at his sides and his lower lip jutting out in a border-line pout. Draco merely raised an eyebrow, the shameless playboy inside of him openly admitting that Potter looked utterly fuckable when he pouted.

"Because." He stated, and turned to leave, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his arm.

"That's not an answer!"

Smirking a little, Draco turned around abruptly, startling the other boy and taking advantage of that to back him up until he was pressed against the wall. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the wall on either side of Harry's head and their faces a scant few inches apart.

"Because…we have nothing to talk about."

"Wha-" Draco kissed him quickly, effectively cutting off whatever indignant retort he had in mind. The raven stilled beneath him, not cooperating, but too shocked to resist. Draco moved his kips against Harry's frozen ones, pinning the other boy to the wall with his body and lifting him a little off the ground. Dredging up all of his considerable experience, he tried every trick he knew to coax the frozen boy into responding, determined that this kiss would make up for the amateurish press of lips that had started this whole thing.

Crushing their lips together, he suckled and nibbled on Harry's bottom lip until he gasped and opened his mouth slightly. It was just a little, but it was enough, and Draco chose to invite himself in. Quickly slipping his tongue past Harry's parted lips, he began to gently map out the contours of his mouth, staking his claim on the new territory. Finally the other boy began to respond, placing a tentative and calloused hand on Draco's chest and moving his lips against the blonde's. Draco waited until he felt the touch of Harry's tongue against his, before he slowly pulled away; watching through half-lidded eyes as Harry unconsciously followed him, before catching himself and stilling. He kept his face close, studying the other boy as he opened his eyes, his lips pink and swollen.

"Now…" Draco said softly, "Now we have something to talk about." With that, he once again stepped back and left a speechless Harry behind him as he walked away.