Draco was in the middle of what was a rather new experience to him; he was dreaming about Harry Potter. Well, actually, he had had dreams about Harry before, but as far as he was concerned, they were not at all significant or interesting, for all Dr. Braunson said. The fact remained in Draco's opinion that wands, quills, tall towers, and broomsticks were not phallic symbols, no matter what Harry was doing with them! But even Draco, the strongest doubter of Freud's theories, could not deny that his dream may, possibly, if you really wanted to go all out and analyze it, have had some homoerotic undertones. Draco really wanted to deny it, though.

When Dream Harry showed up in the Great Hall completely naked, Draco put it down to the nasty cheese sandwich he'd eaten at lunch. When Dream Draco ripped off his own clothes and covered himself with a generous amount of honey, Draco attributed it to having eaten way too much toast at breakfast. Even when Dream Harry came up to Dream Draco and proceeded to lick off all the honey, Draco managed to convince himself that it was merely a subconscious consideration of the fact that Harry had in fact not eaten any breakfast that morning. (No allowance, however, was attempted to be made as to why Draco's subconscious should think that Honey Covered Draco would have been deemed an appropriate choice of breakfast food by Harry Potter). But even if Draco could come up with (albeit very poor) reasons for his dream up to that point, he really couldn't think of a single excuse as to why his Dream Self should start professing his undying love towards Dream Harry, nor why they started snogging as if they would quite possibly die if they didn't at least attempt to swallow each other's tonsils! What really stumped Draco, though. was the fact that Dream Draco actually begged Dream Harry to fuck him! But even worse than all of these things combined was the fact that when Draco woke up from his dream, out of breath and heart pounding, he realized that he had just come in his pants.

-Oh FUCK!-

*****

It was (much to his perplexity) with a great deal of disappointment that Harry observed Draco's absence from supper that evening.

-This is not right, surely- Harry thought to himself.

You see Harry could tell that at the moment he was feeling anger towards the Slytherin, despite how much fun he'd had with him that afternoon. He naturally assumed that he was angry with him for all the usual reasons, for of course feeling anger towards Draco was not by any means a new occurrence. Harry's real difficulty here was the fact that though he was completely ruled by his feelings, he didn't possess nearly enough logic in him to fully comprehend his extremely fucked up emotional state. This is why it puzzled Harry so much that he at the same time was hating Draco with all the fires of Hell, yet also really, really wanted to see him again. Poor Harry, perhaps if he were a Ravenclaw he would have stood a chance of figuring out the obvious conclusion to his worries that his hatred of Draco was directly linked to the absence of Draco. It really didn't matter too much, though, for Draco wasn't having much more luck with his grasp of logic either.

*****

"You see, it's perfectly obvious," Draco explained to the voices in his head as he stepped out from the shower, having decided that taking a cold shower that evening would be much more advantageous to him than showing up to supper all hot and bothered and covered in his own come. "Dr. Braunson said that all of my dull, boring dreams about Potter were actually very sexual in nature…"

//You mean like the dream where you made Harry swallow your wand?//

"Yes! You see, my point is, that if such a dull boring dream has sexual connotations, then clearly my dream today, which I guess did appear to have sexual connotations…."

**By "sexual connotations" are you referring to the point where Harry licked honey off of your dick or the point when you and Harry started fucking each other like rabid bunnies on the Head Table?**

"Not important!" Draco said, starting to get irritated with the interruptions. "What I'm getting at is that if the boring dream was sexual, then obviously the dream that was "sexual" in appearance was clearly a boring dream that meant nothing at all! So you see, that means that my homoerotic tendencies are actually going away! So clearly I can't possibly be gay!"

Draco was ridiculously pleased with that extremely faulty piece of logic, yet he waited patiently with baited breath for the voices in his head to pipe in and tell him and tell him that his grasp of logic was simply the most amazing display of brilliance they'd ever seen.

##That was…amazing…##

Draco began to puff up with pride.

##Never, in my entire life, have I ever heard such a disgusting display of warped logic!##

Draco's face fell, but he quickly passed over from disappointment to anger.

"What would you know, anyway?"

##Well I may not have a degree in psychology, but I'm positive I know denial when I see it!##

"Oh, pshaw! Denial is just one of those high-faluting terms doctors use that don't really mean anything, like 'personality disorder'! I don't care what anybody says, I am NOT in Denial!!!!" The odd twitch started up in Draco's eye again.

~Wow, you guys were right, he does have issues! It's sad, really.~


"What!? Have you guys been saying bad things about me to the new guy!?"

//Well what did you expect? We had to fill him in, you know!"

^^Yeah, he was pretty broken up when you punched Harry in the face^^

** The poor kid had no idea what was going on! I mean, he's not used to your mental breakdowns like we are!**

##Even I felt sorry for the little dweeb, and that's saying something! He was just crushed!##

For a while Draco just scowled (actually it was a pout, but he preferred to think it was a scowl).

"It. Wasn't. A. Mental. Breakdown." He finally said, positively seething. "It was a strategic part of the plan to get back at Harry! The whole point was to make him think I was going to kiss him and then knock him out and leave him until morning! I've explained all of this already!"

//Yeah, sure, whatever you say. I still say that you can't call it a plan unless you thought it up before hand. What you just described is what most people call a "poor excuse," not a plan. . By the way, nice to see that you and Harry are finally on a first name basis//

"What!? I'm not on a fist name basis with Potter! Don't make me laugh! Hah hah... hah hah hah!"

**See, number 5, what did we say about denial?**

~Sheesh, I know! It's practically unreal!~

"Stop that! I'm right here, you know! I can hear every word you say!"

##Oh, like we should bother not talking around you, nothing we ever say gets through your thick skull anyway!##

Draco pouted again and headed off to rifle through his care packages from home to see if there was any chocolate left that he could eat for Supper.

*****

The next morning Draco decided that it really would be best for him to show up to breakfast, if for no other reason than to prove to Harry that he would not be so easily defeated by something as trivial as a really good fuck. He was determined that he should follow his usual plan of acting incredibly snobby and say nothing at all and ignore Harry completely. For the most plan Draco would say that the plan worked perfectly, or at least he thought it did. The problem was that he kept getting distracted, namely by Harry's damn mouth.

-That's just perverted!- Draco thought to himself. -I can't believe no one else is noticing that! Things like that just should not be allowed at the breakfast table, I don't care if you are the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fuck!-

Draco continued to watch wide eyed, nonetheless, while Harry continued to eat his crumpet.

-You see, there wouldn't be so much honey running down your arm if you hadn't put so much butter on the crumpet before you put on the honey! Really, Harry, everyone knows that!-

Draco watched transfixed as Harry finally began licking the honey off of his own arm with long swipes of his tongue, every once in a while, pausing to suck hard on his skin, even nibbling a little bit, to remove the honey that had matted into his hair. Much to his horror, Draco felt himself get hard. The dry toast in his hand was left completely forgotten as he watched Harry suck the honey off of his fingers, one digit at a time.

"Malfoy, you're not eating. Did you want the honey?"

Draco's face instantly went pink.

"My. God. Harry! Not at breakfast! You may enjoy your filthy perversions at any hour of the day, but can you at least remember that there are other people here!?"

The whole rest of the table looked down towards Draco and Harry with increased interest.

It was, however, not only Draco who was embarrassed by the implications of his words. Harry had the grace to instantly pull his middle digit out of his mouth when he saw the curious stares sent in his direction. Harry may at times be naïve, but he knew very well just how un-naïve the rest of the world could be.

"I didn't mean it that way, honestly," Harry said in a quiet voice. Truth be told, though, Harry wouldn't be blushing half as much if he hadn't meant it that way at least a little bit. At the time, of course, it was an innocent statement. Harry really, really liked honey and he merely assumed that Draco must enjoy it with equal fervor. It wasn't until after Draco accused him of being a pervert that Harry remembered a passing thought he'd had one lonely evening about a Honey Covered Draco. Much to his frustration, Harry felt himself get hard.

Quite an awkward silence followed where neither Harry nor Draco could bare to look at the other, though neither could bare to exactly look away either, so instead the two of them just stared intently at the honey pot, entertaining very lustful thoughts, which did nothing but encourage their already hard states.

"Why I think I'd fancy a bit of honey myself!" Dumbledore said cheerfully from the head of the table.

Draco and Harry's erections instantly withered.

*****

Draco in the end hadn't eaten a thing at Breakfast and was so mortified with his one attempt at human contact that he ended up skipping both Lunch and Supper, subsisting mainly off of chocolate for the rest of the day. By that evening, however, he was starving, and the lack of proper nutrition was doing nothing for his mental well being. So after he was sure everyone had already headed off to bed, Draco set off to the kitchens.

A very interesting thing about Draco Malfoy that very few people know, is the fact that he is in fact a bona fide Sandwich Snob. Growing up he had been so mortified at the House Elfs pathetic attempts at a sandwich, that he began insisting that he make his own. He will eat a sandwich made by someone else, but he cannot help but point out all of the reasons why the sandwich is below par. A real sandwich should be a work of art, it cannot be a proper, edible sandwich unless it is the result of much love and attention. No one ever understood his Theories On Sandwiches before, and they usually thought that he was a bit mad if they ever found out, which is precisely why he stopped telling people. He still continued to believe that a proper made Sandwich is the singular most beautiful thing there is in the world. Sandwiches are, in fact, Draco's Grand Passion, his Raison D'etre.

When Draco entered the kitchen and saw Harry settled down at a table, surrounded by sandwich makings, he curiosity was too piqued to demand to know why it was that Harry should invade his personal quiet nip down to the kitchens. Harry did not appear to notice Draco's entrance at all, and merely kept working at his sandwich. Draco took the opportunity to sit back and observe Harry sitting among all of the things that Draco loved the most. He fully anticipated that Harry should fail miserably, of course, and Draco never wanted to pass up an opportunity to make fun of Harry.

Draco was shocked, however, as he watched Harry's movements. The look on Harry's face was so full of intense concentration that it blew Draco away. The careful way that Harry spread the mayonnaise on the bread so that it evenly covered the whole slice, leaving not a corner untouched, yet not allowing any to slop over the sides took Draco's breath away. The delicate way he lay each slice of turkey, folding each one in a perfectly semetrical way and aligning them all in a row so that every bite would contain the exact same amount of turkey was simply awe inspiring to Draco. Then how carefully Harry chose each piece of bacon so that they were all the same size and shape brought a lump to Draco's throat. Oh and the lettuce! Never in his life had he watched another human being tear the lettuce leaves with such love! But then, without any warning, Harry did something that made Draco gasp aloud. He started to drizzle honey, right over the bacon! Draco considered himself to be The Master Of Sandwiches, having created every possible sandwich to perfection, yet it had never, ever occurred to him to put honey on a sandwich. Part of his mind felt that it was an unholy sacrilege, yet he couldn't help but notice the way that Harry poured that honey, as if he had done it a million times before. Surely Harry wouldn't have bothered perfecting the art of something that wasn't any good. There had to be something to this honey.

Draco continued to watch in anticipation, as Harry painstakingly sliced the sandwich in half, and slowly raised his creation to his gorgeous pink mouth. Draco could not help but utter a moan along with Harry at the moment that Harry took his first orgasmic bite out of his sandwich. It was at that point that Harry looked up at his guest. (He knew Draco was there all along, of course. Harry's not dumb).

The two of them eyed each other intensely over the sandwich as Harry took yet another moan inducing bite. Draco felt his cock twitch at the sight. With a slow, deliberate movement, Harry pushed the other half of his sandwich towards Draco. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Draco moved towards the table, and picked up the sandwich, raising it to his mouth. As Harry took his third bite, Draco brought the sandwich to his own mouth. Both boys moaned in unison.

Never, in his entire life, had Draco put something to sinfully delicious in his mouth, and he had eaten a lot of sandwiches in his day.

Draco was enjoying his sandwich so much that it took a while for him to realize that Harry was eyeing him strangely.

"What?"

"You have honey on your face," Harry replied, pointing at Draco's chin for clarification. Indeed there was honey running across his face, over his chin, and slowly down his neck.

Draco reached his hand up to wipe away the offending stickyness, but before he had a chance to reach his face, Harry suddenly lunged across the table and grabbed Draco behind the neck, pulling him close, and attaching his mouth to Draco's neck. With tantalizing little licks, sucks, and nibbles, Harry moved his mouth along the path of the honey, starting at Draco's neck and working his way up towards the origin of the honey trail: Draco's mouth. He seemed to pause an extra long time on Draco's chin, just below his lower lip. Harry sighed and pulled away from a very stunned and turned on Draco. They just looked at each other for a moment, Draco having absolutely no idea what would be an appropriate comment in response to having someone eat honey off of your face.

"I left a bit for you," Harry said pointing to Draco's lips. "I didn't want you to think I was a hog."

Draco wasn't entirely sure what to respond to that either. Draco's aristocratic upbringing told him that the appropriate response would be to say "thanks," but he wasn't entirely sure if he meant it. Part of him wanted to tell Harry that it was okay if he wanted the rest, but he really didn't know if such a statement would come across the right way or not. In the end, he decided that licking it off himself would be the appropriate action. Draco's tongue darted out and caught the last bit of errant honey. It really was exceptionally good honey.

Draco looked down at the table that was separating him from Harry and it suddenly, without any warning occurred to him what he wanted more than anything else in the world. The difficulty was, just how to phrase it without making him sound like he was begging for it.

"Harry," Draco looked back up with pleading eyes. "I want you to do it again." Then as an afterthought he added, "please."

Harry looked into Draco's unusually pleading eyes with complete understanding. He knew what Draco wanted, and of course he would be more than willing to concede, but at the time there was something that he wanted from Draco instead.

"No," he said, but then in response to the look of desperation in Draco's eyes, he added, "I want you to instead. Will you please?"

Draco thought for just a moment and then nodded his consent. He turned and moved around the large table so that he was standing right next to Harry. He glanced at Harry and contemplated the intimacy of the situation, how close they were now standing, how close he actually felt to him at the moment. He had never done this for anyone before in his entire life, but there was no going back now.

"How do you want it?"

"I don't care. Whichever way is your favorite. I want to know what you like."

Draco smiled at Harry, pleased with his words, then he turned back to the table and proceed to create the most perfect Sandwich he could think of in honour of the green eyed boy next to him.

Harry perched himself on the table and watched Draco with great interest. No one had ever made a sandwich personally for him, and the fact that Draco Malfoy was the first thrilled him to no end. What thrilled him even more than that, though, was the fact that Draco clearly knew what he was doing.

Draco himself had never made a sandwich for another soul and he was determined to show off all of his skill. No simple sandwich would do. If he were to do this, he would do it right. This was not something that Harry Potter would for get quickly. He put all of his heart and soul into that Sandwich, Harry could see it as clear as day. When Draco finally put the final touches on the Sandwich and sliced it neatly in half, Harry was so overwhelmed by the beauty of it that he felt his chest constrict, as if he might cry.

This was no ordinary sandwich. It was made with three slices of bread, not just toasted, but rather lightly fried in a mixture of butter, extra virgin olive oil, and some carefully selected seasoning. On the lower half of the sandwich, Draco had spread a creamy mustard and mayonnaise sauce and placed on top of that bacon fried to perfection and juicy slices of ripe, red tomatos. On the top half was thick slices of still warm, roasted turkey breast upon which was spread (much to Harry's amazement) a thin layer of Pesto. To top it off was perfectly selected leaves of lettuce. Never in his entire life had Harry seen such a sandwich.

Harry looked hesitantly up from the Sandwich into Draco's eyes, as if asking for his permission. In response to the silent request, Draco lifted half of the Sandwich himself and lifted it to Harry's mouth. With a slight nod of his head, Draco encouraged to take a bite. When Draco's amazing creation hit Harry's palate, he felt as if he could die there and then, surely nothing could be better than this. Draco grinned widely as Harry voiced his approval with a moan. When Harry saw that smile across Draco's lips, he remembered himself and, though he enjoyed watching Draco's display of voyeristic pleasure, he knew that he needed to give him more pleasure than just that. Harry reached down and lifted the other half of the sandwich and raised it to Draco's mouth. The two of them moaned in unison with each bite as they had done previously with Harry's sandwich. When they finally finished the Sandwich, they fell back across the table, sated and happy. Draco reached over and licked away the tiny dab of pesto that found its way left behind on the corner of Harry's mouth.

"That…was the most amazing thing I have ever eaten in my whole life!" Harry finally found his voice to say.

Draco blushed and giggled slightly at the complement. He looked over at Harry with a wicked grin on his face.

"Want to do it again?"

"Oh yeah!"

The two of them made sandwiches for each other until the wee hours of the morning when they were both so full and content that they could barely move. They managed to magically clean off their sandwich makings, though, and collapsed across the now empty table. Draco crawled close to Harry and lay his head across his chest, allowing the Gryffindor to play with his hair until he fell asleep. The last thought that occurred to Harry before he, too fell asleep was that it was quite true, Draco did smell like roses.