Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers and Warner Bros. This story is based on characters and situations created by the amazing J. K. Rowling, however no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is written for fun and all we own is the plot idea which is part of our very warped imagination.
Author's Note: Written in 1st POV. One scene makes up one chapter. Please note that the first few chapters are rather short; however let us assure you that this changes as the story progresses. Selly (Selly87) wrote Draco's POV, whilst Bru (dracosoftie) wrote Harry's POV, which considering that Bru has a soft spot for Draco, did not cause a brutal catfight between the two authors. The decision as to who writes which character was a mutual one and if you check the records of St Mungo A&E you will find none, unless of course you check for the records of one Harry Potter and one Draco Malfoy.

Chapter 10:

Harry's POV, that same night

I'm not sure at what point I lost control of things, but as I watch Malfoy slide out of his robes I know the point is long past. It's just – he waltzes in, so superior and smug, with that stupid challenge of his, and I couldn't just let it go. I couldn't do the sensible thing and tell him to fuck off, or even the most logical thing and give him the interview he wants so he'll leave me alone.

No, I had to antagonize him. I had to tell him that he could be naked on his knees begging me and even then I'd never do the interview. And now his lightweight robes are pooled around him in stark contrast against my beige carpet, but my eyes are drawn back up as his pale fingers begin to unbutton the Muggle shirt he's wearing underneath. I try to make some sound of protest, anything that will make him stop, but my throat is suddenly too dry to speak. He keeps going, his grey eyes sparkling with something – challenge? amusement? – as the shirt joins his robes on the floor. My brain is screaming at me to stop this before it goes any further, but other parts of my anatomy are unquestionably interested in seeing it continue. When those pale fingers slide beneath the waistband of his trousers, removing the last barrier between him and total nudity, I try to raise my hands to stop him, but it feels like my arms are made of lead.

"Not even now, Potter?" he teases, totally unphased by his state of undress. He slips to his knees – somehow managing to look cool and elegant even in the pose of a supplicant, the bastard – and proceeds to utter all sorts of depraved promises for my cooperation. I feel myself blush as his suggestions become more and more lewd. Malfoy's describing things I'd never even thought possible, and I find myself transfixed by the sight of his rose-colored lips forming the words. Unbidden an image of those same lips wrapped around my cock springs to my mind, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from betraying my arousal with a sharp intake of breath.

"Alright," I say, my voice sounding hoarse and pained, even to my own ears. I see Malfoy blink in surprise. "I'll do the interview. On my terms, though. I choose the place and the time."

He sits back on his heels, giving me a view of his perfect cock. He's half-hard, the beginnings of what looks to be an impressive erection pushing proudly out of the nest of blond curls. I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze but carefully keeping my eyes above his shoulders.

"The interview?" I say again, waiting for any sign of recognition from him. It seems he's so caught up in his little game that he can't switch gears. Good. It's nice not to be the only one off balance for once.

I've never noticed how Malfoy's entire face lights up when he smiles. Thinking back, it may be because I've never seen a genuine smile on his face before. He stands, taking a step closer to me. Before I have the sense to back away, he's pulling me closer. My hands automatically wrap around his naked back as he steps in and startles me with a hard kiss. I find myself responding even though I don't want to, melting into his embrace and allowing his persistent tongue entrance into my mouth. We're both panting when he steps away, and a quick glance down confirms he's just as aroused as I am, his fully hard cock brushing my thigh as he retreats.

"The Leaky Cauldron," he says with a smirk as he shrugs into his clothes. Every movement is both casual and graceful and sends my pulse skyrocketing. "Thursday. 2 p.m. I'll have Tom reserve a room for us."

He laughs as I sputter in indignation, too shocked and outraged for words. Malfoy's arrogance knows no bounds, and I open my mouth to protest when he waves a hand negligently and stops me.

"The interview? The Leaky has conference rooms in the back. 2 p.m. Thursday. Don't be late, Potter."

And with that he's gone, stepping into the Floo and disappearing in a whirl of green flames before I can even open my mouth. I glare at the fire for long moments after he is gone – angry at his presumption – though whether it's at using my Floo without asking or kissing me like that and then leaving I can't say.

TBC