Title: Clear

Chapter 6: Decadent

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: R for slash themes

**WARNING**: THIS STORY CONTAINS SLASH THEMES – WHICH MEANS HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN TWO MALE CHARACTERS. YOU ARE ADVISED TO LEAVE IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS.

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story do not belong to me, but to the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling. This is all FICTION; none of it is true. No profit was made from this story. I bear no responsibility for anything you may claim from this story, you have been warned.

LAST WARNING. SLASH. HOMOSEXUALITY. LEAVE IF YOU DON'T LIKE.

Notes: Thanks to the reviewers!!!! Thanks so much! Heeheehee…Much thanks to May, the very evil bunny, ClarKeRaVen, alistar, Evil Laughter, efa, Summer, Anne Phoenix, Lady Malfoy II, someone who's too lazy to login, Heavens_beyond, GlacierFlame, bondagechic, IncubusSuccubus, in-a-crushd-tin-box, Patchfire, Marionette, Gwendolyn Malfoy, Lunadeath, mellony melody, Sera Luanma, Hoshikio-Malfoy, J (BleedingEros), Moonblade, Sienna of Lothlorien, Zany, pottergirl, and Mistic!!!

I would hurry the story along if I could…but it doesn't seem to want to…

AND I WENT TO SUMMER SCHOOL IN ENGLAND FOR A MONTH!!!!!!!!!!! SORRY FOR THE DELAY!

***

Malfoy blanched as Harry swept his cloak off. "Malfoy," he said.

And after a long pause in which Malfoy stared at him, he replied, "Potter."

***

There was a pause before Potter spoke again, long, dark lashes over his eyes, which were lowered to the floor around Draco's feet. "What were you playing?"

Draco scowled. "The violin."

Potter nodded. "I know. But what was the piece?"

"Just a little something. Part of a concerto for the violin."

"Who was it by?"

"Mendelssohn." Draco watched as a brief frown of confusion blinked across Potter's features. Obviously, he was not a patron of the arts, nor did he even have basic knowledge of them.

Another pause. Potter's lashes fluttered up and shockingly green eyes flashed at him briefly before they fluttered back down and covered those simply scandalous eyes once more. "It was beautiful."

Draco was surprised. Baffled. Speechless. Stunned. Astonished. Completely and utterly bowled over. Had he not been biting the inside of his cheek nervously, his jaw would have dropped open. As it was, he just felt his heart stop in the now familiar manner when he caught a glimpse of the famous Potter Green Eyes that seemed to glow from the moon.

This time, there was an understandably long pause. "Mm," was the noncommittal answer. Draco was vaguely aware that he was staring at Potter, and averted his eyes to a lone patch of moonlight on the floor. He could see his shadow in it, could see the long thin blackness stretch along the stone floor and just about reach the end of Potter's robes. He could see the moonlight glittering off Potter's eyes as they traveled along the floor. And he could see the way Potter's skin seemed to glow with moonshine and the way his own shadow seemed to be an extension of himself, trying to reach out and touch the light of the brightest star in the sky that was Harry Potter.

Draco looked up from his shadow and the hem of Potter's robes to find a strangely lit pair of Green Eyes looking straight into his own. Stop. Looking. At. Me. Like. That. And then a plethora of little voices, all his own, filled his head, talking endlessly. The like of it had never happened before, and Draco couldn't keep the little strand of astonishment from floating across his eyes, his face otherwise remaining expressionless as always.

don't look at me like that please stop I can't stand it when you give me THAT LOOK like you want me like you want to grab me and kiss me so hard I won't be able to resist or fight back against you or push you off and just have to stand there and be kissed by you so -

don't look at me like that don't look at me like you want to throw me onto a bed and do naughty wonderful things to me with your fingers and hands and tongue and mouth and your… please please please I can't stand this I -

don't know how to take it when you look at me like you want to kiss me under the stars surrounded by roses – I REMEMBER THAT NIGHT, I DO, I DO, I DO, I DO! – and kiss me so gently with petal lips and kiss so tenderly that I will give up my soul for more kisses like these

Draco stared back at Potter blankly, barely even blinking. He couldn't remember how long they stood here, just staring, but he finally broke the silence and snapped, "What are you staring at, Potter?"

Potter blinked, heavy black lashes going down and up, twice, quickly. "Just wondering when you learnt to play the violin. And I didn't know Hogwarts had a music room."

"Rooms, Potter. Plural," Draco corrected. "There are four in total, all along this corridor."

"Really," Potter mused. "I never really noticed. So when did you pick up the violin? Wouldn't think you have much of an ear for it, you know."

Draco glowered. That was very obviously an insult. "I happen to have a very good ear for the violin, Potter, unlike you, of whom I am sure wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a violin and tuba if they jumped up and bit you in the ass."

Potter bristled visibly, but made no answer, forcing out his next sentence instead. "So? When did you start?"

"Before I turned three, Potter. I happen to have a gift in this area."

"Sure. Whatever you say," Potter said, rolling his eyes.

"For your information, Potter, I am a professional. A maestro, even."

What the FUCK was he saying?! Oh God, oh God, oh God. Draco began to panic.

Potter raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh?" And that was it. Draco relaxed visibly.

"Yes. And it would be preferable if you would just leave, now."

Potter's damned Green Eyes (and YES they deserve capitals, nodded Draco's inner voice) were most definitely deplorable and decadent and all things that an innocent Boy Who Lived should not be when they now fixed onto Draco's own, unknowingly causing a severe increase in blood pressure, which would be fatal if it rose any higher.

"Could I stay and listen to you? Please?" The corners of those delectable lips were turned up slightly, hopefully.

Draco's heart seized and his brain seemed to have become a puddle of grey muddy liquid in his cranium, mouth opening and speaking before he could stop himself. "No."

"Oh. Um." Potter looked down at his feet and shuffled, rustling his Invisibility Cloak. "Well. Um. I, ah. Um." He shuffled around again, head still down and turned slightly to his right so Draco could see the red in his cheek. He seemed to look up, but bent his head down once more. "I guess I should go, then." A hand reached up to run through black hair that didn't reflect any of the moonlight shining in, but rather seemed to soak itself in it.

At this point in time, Draco had no idea how hard he was clutching his violin, but later he remembered that the morning after saw imprints of the four strings on the joints of his fingers where he had been gripping the fingerboard.

He held on even tighter as Potter turned and reached out, pulling the door open noiselessly, movements slow, lethargic. "Wait."

Potter spun around, eyes wide. "Yes?" he asked eagerly.

Draco scowled. "If you really want to hear me play that badly, then you have my permission. But for only one song." Nervously, his right hand, the hand holding his bow, went to his neck to play with his silver ring.

"Only one?" Was that disappointment Draco saw? Or was he merely seeing what he was hoping for? He watched Potter's eyes flicker to his ring and back to meet his own.

"Yes."

"Alright," was the quick answer.

After a slight moment's hesitation, Draco tucked his violin under his chin once more, looking away from Potter and standing in the same position as he was before being interrupted. He gave Potter a sideways glare. "And stop looking at me like that."

A slow smile curled around Potter's lips. "Why?"

"I don't like people watching me when I play. Stop that."

Potter shrugged and looked down at his feet once more, a definite grin hidden under a shock of wild hair, but jerked his head up to stare unabashedly at Draco as the first note echoed around the room.

***

Harry's head hurt like hell. The quiet hum at the breakfast tables now felt like a thousand tiny hammers striking at his head all at once, in continuity with the pulsing blood that he could feel in his head, his fingers, his toes, everywhere.

His eyes felt dry and achy, and each blink was like dragging sandpaper across his delicate corneas. The bright morning sun seemed all too garish now, and caused him to squint behind his glasses, wishing somehow he was allowed to wear sunglasses.

His skin seemed dirty and grubby, even after a morning shower, and his mouth was dry, even after downing four glasses of pumpkin juice. The simple act of picking up knife and fork had never seemed so straining a task before.

He had never felt better in his entire life.

Though heavy-lidded and ringed in black from want of sleep, his eyes were twinkling brightly, and the tired expression on his face was overshadowed by his happy smile.

Harry couldn't resist, and lifted his eyes so that they looked through the Hufflepuffs, and straight into Draco Malfoy's seat. For some reason, Malfoy didn't even look tired, but was as composed and alert as always, ready to draw his wand at any second.

And his heart beat faster and his smile grew a little brighter and his eyes widened more and he couldn't help but blush and duck his head down to his plate as Malfoy's eyes latched onto his and a tiny semblance of a smile curved Malfoy's perfect pink lips.

TBC!!!! I'm working on C7 already! Should be here soon (I hope!)