Disclaimer: Harry really isn't mine… pity.

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews. I'm positively ecstatic here. Don't stop now. Tell me what you think of my little story. =)

We All Burn Sometimes

By Passo
( genjo_sanzo_lover@yahoo.com)

Chapter 5: Heat

Draco Malfoy pushed his half-finished breakfast away from him. He couldn't possibly eat. In a few hours, he'd be facing Harry Potter. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The match of the season. He pondered silently, oblivious to the longing and admiring looks from all over the room.

He hadn't talked to Potter since that night in the greenhouse a week ago. Already, it seemed like a year. That night, in bed, he made a resolution to stop seeking Potter. That night was to be the last, no more. It really wasn't seemly. There he was, the ultra-popular Draco Malfoy, chasing after the Boy Who Lived like a bitch in heat.  His policy had always been "One girl, one night." There were a few exceptions but he had always been careful to leave a long period in between meetings, to make it clear that it meant nothing. But then, Potter was no girl. Oh no… all that soft skin on that hard body…

Draco, you are being positively irrational about this! His inner voice screamed.

Still, that didn't make him stop thinking of the way Potter played him like a fiddle, the way Potter made his hands sweat during breakfast whenever Draco heard his voice from across the room. He felt a little annoyed with himself, thinking about his archenemy so often. But then, nobody had ever made him burn with hatred and lust at the same time. Like Draco was feeling now. Damn! He wanted Potter writhing beneath him like mad. Right now.

He snuck a look at the Gryffindors. As usual, the Golden Boy was sitting with his goody-goody friends. They were talking animatedly, Ron was laughing and slapping Harry on the back. Hah! Probably about something really boring like that Mudblood's bottle cap collection. Then, suddenly, Harry's silvery laughter flew across the room, and Draco nearly came on his chair.

He snorted with disgust and left his housemates staring after him with curiosity as he swept out of the Great Hall. From the Gryffindor table, a pair of green eyes watched his every move.

***

The bedroom door opened, revealing two people, hurriedly kissing and ripping each others' clothes off their backs. The taller began to push the other down the bed when the shorter one stopped him.

"Wait…" gasping, "Has anybody seen us go up?"

"No." Impatient. Kissing.

Stopped again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the voice was now laced with annoyance, "why so paranoid?"
Eyelashes fluttered. "I have to keep my reputation, you know."

Hands caressed the oval face. "I don't know why I can't stop seeing you. You so hate to be seen with me."

A small, apologetic kiss. "I'm sorry. It's nothing personal. It's just that—"

"Ssshhh… I know." Kissed back. "I understand."

Pause. "I think love you."

Sad smile. "Don't say anything you don't understand."

A short silence. Smile. Wicked teeth gleamed.

A robe thrown on the floor.

"Great. Now, let's begin. I've been waiting for this all morning."

***

That afternoon, the stands were bursting with people. As usual, the whole school turned up to see the showdown between the two rival houses: Gryffindor and Slytherin. The air absolutely pulsed with tension.

Harry Potter licked his lips. His body was humming in response to the atmosphere. Eager for the win—he always fed on the crowd's apprehension. It excited him intensely. Quidditch was something he loved and did well. And for most of his years in Hogwarts, it had been enough to sustain his appetites.

Until Draco Malfoy showed him another way.

Harry frowned. He couldn't let that ferret-face destroy his concentration now. Gryffindor had to win. They had lost the last match against Ravenclaw (something Harry had not yet forgiven himself for). The team couldn't possibly take another loss if they meant to go for the cup. He mustn't let that gorgeous, blonde, sexy-assed… Aaarrrghh! This isn't working. Harry shook his head, and gave his consciousness a mental shake. This was definitely the wrong time and place to think about sex.

From across the field, he saw Ron give him a reassuring wave. Harry felt his insides calm. Yes, he must think about the team. He watched Ron confer with the chasers: Seamus, and two lower years. His redheaded friend had joined the team during their fifth year as the keeper, and what a damn good keeper he was. This year, they had voted him captain, acknowledging his unique gift for planning and strategy, something Harry had noticed long-ago whenever they played chess. The team didn't regret their decision. Ron was as responsible as Oliver Wood when it came to being the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—and that's saying a lot.

A light drizzle started, making it a little harder to see from a distance. Madame Hooch blew her whistle. The game was on.

Harry watched Draco fly over the stands, stormy blue eyes searching for the snitch. Ice blonde hair stuck to the sides of his face, blending with the pale skin. He looked beautiful.

Harry breathed slowly, taking his eyes away from the Slytherin. He lifted his own broom and scanned the pitch for the elusive little golden ball. He felt the old excitement as the heard the crowds cheer. Seamus had scored a goal. Harry's mind left all thoughts of Draco behind as only one thought burned in his brain: winning the match for Gryffindor.

***

Harry entered the Gryffindor shower rooms with the rest of the team, giddy with the win. Slytherin had given them a good game: it took a good one hour and twenty minutes for Harry to catch the snitch. Draco sure led him on a merry chase.

A merry chase.

Harry frowned as the warm water hit him. He lathered the soap on his body absentmindedly. Draco Malfoy… He never talked to Harry again after that incredible night at the greenhouse. Was that it? Just a quick shag in the corner and now that it's over they should just go their separate ways? Was sex that cold? Maybe Malfoy  just meant for it to be that way.

Harry felt a growing feeling of something akin to disappointment in his chest. He gave himself a mental shake as he shampooed his messy hair. There was nothing to be disappointed about. They agreed it was nothing. He himself wanted it that way. And why the hell was he trying to convince himself anyway? It was nothing. Nothing! Draco hated him, and he hated Draco, or did he? Immersed in his thoughts, he scraped his scalp a little harder than he was supposed to.

"Ouch! Bloody hell!" Harry cursed loudly as he massaged his tender scalp under the warm spray of the shower.

He looked around. He was alone now. He didn't realize he spent so much time showering that Ron and Seamus had already gone.

Harry turned off the shower and stepped from the steamy stall. He shook the droplets of water from his body, feeling the coolness of the air in contrast to the water's warmth. He walked quickly to where the towels were located and wrapped a white cotton towel around himself.

"Pity… I was starting to enjoy the view."

Harry spun around. Draco was leaning on the wall, already dressed. His slicked back hair was still damp, proving that he had just come from the shower himself. He was looking at Harry in such a way that made the green-eyed Gryffindor's knees weaken. Draco looked hungry. Very hungry.

He slowly walked to Harry, who didn't move from his place. He examined the other boy, walking around him like a collector inspecting a rare piece of sculpture. Harry felt his eyes on his body, burning a path across his skin. For some reason, the Slytherin made him feel so hot, he didn't feel the November chill on his skin though he was half-naked.

Draco stopped in front of Harry, looking at him, eye-to-eye. He leaned closer, past Harry's lips, a whisper of a kiss on his cheek, and breathed into Harry's hair. The dark-haired boy gasped and moved back, staring at the blonde in shock. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end and his whole body tingled from that action. That was so…so…

"You owe me a snitch." Draco stared into his eyes, his expression feral.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "I… I won fair and square, Malfoy."

"Hmmm… not really." Draco suddenly smiled. "You distracted me. I would've won if you didn't look delightfully edible sitting on that broom."

Heat rose from Harry's cheeks and traveled all the way to his toes. Darn this Slytherin. He must have charmed him with a spell. Maybe even a Potion. It was impossible for him to react this much over such a simple compliment. Or was it just?

"What do you want?" Harry breathed.

"You." For one moment, Harry thought that Draco was about to kiss him. But the Slytherin took a step back, his expression turning serious. An awkward silence hung between them. Finally, Draco spoke.

"I have a proposition."

Harry cocked his head. This sounded interesting. He motioned for the other to continue.

"I know you want me, Harry. As much as I want you. Don't try to deny it." Draco's lips were arranged in a half-smile, daring the Gryffindor to say otherwise. Harry remained silent. Draco took that as an encouragement and continued.

"I want to… I want to keep seeing you." Draco took a deep breath. "I need to keep seeing you. For some reason, I…" He paused again. "We should continue to be together. You know what I mean. But not as—"

"You want to see me regularly in secret." Harry finished for him. He understood what the Slytherin wanted. In truth, he wanted to say the same thing. His craving for Draco only grew stronger after a week of separation. He wanted to feel him again. Touch him in very intimate ways he had never imagined doing to anyone before. But, of course, no one should know. Going public on this would be unthinkable. After all, it was only an affair. A purely physical one. Sordid but thrilling.

Draco nodded. "You do understand the importance of secrecy, Potter?"

Harry smiled. "Of course. The cock of Slytherin with me? Hah!"

"I can't be seen with anybody." Draco straightened, smiling faintly. "Why don't we shake on this, Potter? Make it formal." He offered his right hand.

Harry offered his. They shook. Harry marveled at their joined hands. Cream and alabaster. The contract was made.

Before Harry's hand could be released, Draco pulled him into a short kiss. "I'll see you later. Tonight. I'll tell you when." Draco whispered on his lips.

In an instant, Harry was alone again in the shower room. He sighed as he looked down at the obvious lump beneath his towel.

"Down boy. You're not getting any 'til tonight."
***

Ron Weasley tiptoed to the Owlery, careful not to wake the sleeping school owls. He tapped Pigwidgeon's cage until the little owl was awake.

"Sorry to disturb you, Pig, but I really need you to deliver this. It's terribly important."

He opened the cage, allowing the tiny owl to hop into his hand. Pig stretched his wings and seemed to cock his head in assent. Ron handed him a white envelope, carefully handling it as if it contained something very precious.

"Don't lose it. Be careful."

Pig clutched the letter and, giving Ron one last affectionate tweak on his finger, flew away into the night.

The redheaded boy stood silently beneath the window for some time, watching the disappearing form of his owl. The reply would take  a few days. Until then, he would have to wait. Just as he always did.

***

Draco sauntered to the Dungeons. He was feeling particularly good today. They lost the game but he had managed to make a deal. A pretty good one. Potter's body had developed into an obsession. Draco simply had to get what he wanted. He licked his lips in anticipation, imagining the prone form of Harry Potter on his bed. Rich cream on dark green. He took the trouble of making sure that Blaise, Vincent, and Greg wouldn't be around later that night. He had to bribe Pansy to distract them by taking them somewhere, he didn't care where as long as the bedroom would be empty when he needed it. He wasn't inclined to fucking Potter with an audience. Potter, yes… The boy may be a real son of a bitch but his body… his body was pure heaven.

Draco closed his eyes, lost in his fantasy, when suddenly, two arms that came from nowhere grabbed him and dragged him into a room.

He blinked his eyes rapidly, adjusting to the dim light. The windows of the classroom were open, letting in the faint light of the moon. Aside from that, there was no other illumination. Except for Harry Potter's eyes.

They were looking at him wickedly now. His hands were slowly caressing Draco's arms, making the blonde shudder with pleasure.

"Sorry. I couldn't wait." Harry paused. "Does this deal entitle me to some rights and privileges over your very luscious body?"

How could one possibly answer such a question? Draco nodded mutely. Grinning, Harry got to work.

A good hour later…

"Potter?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want to go to bed?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm not through with you yet."

"I meant my bed."

"Oh… Well, in that case, sure."

Pause.

"Won't anyone be in your room?"

Silver eyes twinkled. "No. You're all mine tonight."