Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros. They are used here for entertainment purposes only.

Warnings: Slash. Kisses. Angst. Mushiness.

Spoilers: None. Written Pre-OotP.

Like Glass
Chapter 4 - A Little Action

It was cold out. He hated the cold. He'd been cold long enough on the inside, he didn't need to feel it on the outside too. When winter hit, it always made him feel as if his soul had slipped out and infected the rest of the world with its chilliness. It made him feel guilty. He hated feeling guilty.

It implied that he felt. That he cared.

And he didn't. He was trying to make that quite clear to himself. He. did. not. care. He didn't care if Blaise was happy or not. He didn't care if his words that afternoon had eased Ginny's worry or lifted her spirits. He didn't care if Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb had finally confessed their oh-so-obvious feelings to each other. He didn't care what Harry-Potter- was doing right now.

He didn't.

He was on his broom, out on Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch, floating lazily in the air. He'd thought to spend some time in the freedom of the air, letting the world fade away. It was the one weakness he'd never been able to wean himself from, the flying. He had a sneaking suspicion that if someone wanted to blackmail him into doing something, all they'd have to do was steal his broom. Even though he knew all he'd have to do would be to buy himself a new broom. He liked this broom. He'd flown against Harry-Potter (he paused to shake his head at himself)-many times on this broom. It held memories.

The Quidditch pitch was probably where it all started. Like many love-struck girls carrying a torch for Potter, he had to admit that Harry looked great on a broom. And those girls didn't even know the half of it; Draco always got a good look at him in the air. The wind always seemed to breathe through his already messy hair, and he always seemed to glow with the same kind of energy Draco felt while in the air. And after a few laps around the pitch, a few near misses with the snitch, Draco had to admit that Harry looked good in sweat too.

Although he was fairly sure that Harry looked good in anything.

Well, this was certainly not helping him to clear his head. A cough from below him drew his attention and he looked down into the stunning emerald green eyes of his obsessions.

"And now you're up to bothering me twice in one day, Potter?"

Harry's lips quirked up in a half smile and he saluted Draco. "No, sir. Hermione and Ron are... busy." At this he grinned and shook his head, amusement showing in his face. "Anyway, I needed something to do, and one can never practice enough. It's a bit cold out, isn't it?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're observant. And you're right, too. You can never practice enough, Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he dropped the friendly countenance he'd been showing to Draco. "You're all talk and no action, Malfoy."

Draco chuckled and leaned down, dipping his broom lower and locking his eyes to Harry's. "You looking for a little action tonight, Harry?"

He tried to persuade himself that he'd meant that in a purely non-sexual manner.

Harry chose to ignore the blatant come on, and drew from his pocket a singularly content snitch. "I saw you flying out here, and figured I could probably talk you into a little one on one. You up for it?"

Draco leaned back and gave Harry an appraising once-over. "It's a little too cold for this, don't you think?"

"What, you can't handle it?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and they both stared at each other, Harry's gaze challenging. Draco growled deep in his throat. "You're on."

Harry smiled, and Draco only had a moment to bask in the shock to his system that smile always brought, before Harry mounted his broom, and let the snitch go.

It was gone in seconds.

Draco sighed and took to the south end goals. Harry took a quick tour around the field, then settled on the goals opposite Draco. They floated where they were for a while, just watching the field.

Harry's voice wafted over to him, and Draco fought the urge to look up and give Harry his undivided attention. "Why do you hate Muggles, Draco?"

"Ah, a political discussion. Where's the sudden interest in my interests coming from, Potter?"

"Know thy enemy, know thyself."

"Me being the enemy?"

"You being the closest representative of the enemy at hand."

"You mean, Voldemort."

There was silence across the field and Draco looked up to see Harry's vivid eyes on him. "You're not afraid to say his name?"

Draco snorted. "He's not the bogey man. He can't hear me."

"He's my bogey man. He's certainly ugly enough."

Draco held back a smile. "I hear that evil does that to you. You should understand, Potter, that Voldemort doesn't give a damn whether Muggles live or die, and he doesn't care what they do. He used that as a theme, a bid for power. He convinces people not to like something and then says, 'Hey there, I can get rid of that for you, you just gotta do some stuff for me first.'"

Draco looked back down and scanned the field for the snitch.

"So you don't think Muggles need to be exterminated like rats?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I could care less. None of them ever did anything to me."

"But you've always said..."

"It's not about Muggles, or Mudbloods, Potter. It's about Power."

"Oh, I see. So you don't care if they live or die? Of course you don't think they should be killed, but you don't mind if other people feel like killing them."

"Bingo. I don't care."

"And all the things you've always said at Hermione and Ron's dad..."

"People respect me when I piss you off, Potter. You know what the funny thing is? Voldemort wants power over people, and he's got it. Every witch and wizard out there is terrified of even saying his name. And it's not even his real name. And they say he lost when he scarred you?" He shook his head, "People only feared him more."

"Power means that much to you? Feelings mean nothing?"

Draco steeled himself against that note in Harry's voice. "What feelings? Feelings are dangerous things."

He felt a whoosh of air and Harry's voice disturbingly near him. "Aren't they?"

His head whipped up, and he drank in the sight of Harry clutching the snitch in his fingers, leaning forward, deep green eyes locked with his placid grays. His eyes narrowed and he growled. "You cheated, you little bastard. Distracting me like that. That's a dirty trick, Potter."

"Sore loser."

Draco tried to reign in his temper.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll catch it someday."

His broom jolted forward and connected with Harry's, crashing them both in an arc to the ground. They were wrestling around on the grass within moments, Draco's hands struggling to find the snitch in Harry's grasp. Harry's free hand slid behind his head and pulled at his hair to yank Draco's head back. Muttered curses washed over the two as they fought. It began to drizzle and they were both getting wet. Harry flipped him over and had him pinned beneath that Quidditch roughened body. Each of Harry's hands were planted firmly in the ground on either side of Draco's head, hold his hands down. Draco's left hand and Harry's right both curled possessively around the snitch.

"You looking for a little action tonight, Draco?"

And Harry's lips came crashing down.

Draco immediately stopped struggling and moaned into the kiss. Sheets of electricity surged through him and he almost embarrassed himself by shuddering at Harry's touch. That infuriating Potter was quickly making up for every irritation he'd ever shoved upon him, and the Slytherin was kissing back, passionately making his own amends. Gasping, Harry pulled back and stared down at him. A moment's respite was all Draco needed for his brain to catch up with his libido, and when Harry's lips searched his own out again, he turned his head. Fortunately, he was able to work past the feeling of Harry's lips on his cheek enough to wiggle out from under him and struggle to his feet.

Just barely.

"Well, Potter. Two victories over me in one night and a nice little insight into my psyche. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

Harry was looking adorably confused and lost, and Draco had to pull himself away from the image to twist on his heel and head back to Hogwarts.

The snitch twitched in his fingers mockingly.

End Chapter