This is the second part of First Date. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Yes I realise many of the things in this chapter, and in the story in general are highly improbable. But I just can't help it. If you don't like stories that are OOC, please don't read. And yeah I know Draco is supposed to be tough, cause of the shit his dad probably makes him go through, but everyone is scared of some things.

The astriks () are guides for people that don't like certain types of movies. You'll see what I mean when you read more.

It was the next night, and they were walking to their room, number 47. Both Harry and Draco held out their hearts, and after 10 minutes, they still hadn't screeched, or bit. All of a sudden, the two pieces floated back together. Either George or Fred's voice said "You have completed your sexy task. Congratulations."

Harry burst into laughter, followed by Draco, though when he looked at the room, he stopped laughing, and winced.

"Those aren't silk sheets Harry."

"No, I doubt they would be in a pay by the hour hotel Draco."

"And the white walls look sort of grimy and yellow."

"I repeat, it's a pay by the hour hotel. You're lucky there aren't-" Harry cut himself off. He was smarter then to finish the sentence.

"I'm lucky what."

Harry shook his head.

"Fine. don't tell me then. I'm going to the washroom." he threw his backpack on one of the queen beds, and walked across the room to the closed door. Harry sat on the other bed, and started to untie his shoes. He quickly ruffled the blankets, making sure there were no bugs, as he knew there could be a cheap place like this, and he knew they would freak the compulsively clean Draco out. Luckily there weren't any, and he was just stretching out, wondering what they were supposed to do now, when Draco screamed.

Harry ran into the bathroom, and had a glimpse of Draco sprawled on the floor, pants on, before he slipped and fell on top of the other boy.

When he managed to get up, he noticed the floor was covered in water, and the toilet was broken. There were pieces of porcelain laying on the floor, scattered everywhere.

He waded over to Draco carefully, so he wouldn't slip in the water, and gave his hand out so he could stand up. Draco didn't take it, so Harry looked closer, and saw the boy was crying. He knelt down in the water, and put his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Are you ok? What happened?"

Draco sat up, and Harry noticed his elbow was bleeding. He reached for a towel, and wrapped it around Draco's arm.

"There was a bug, a really big one, and I tried to kick it away from me, and my heel hit the toilet, and it fell apart, and I slipped, and my head hurts, and my arm got cut, and is it still alive? Oh god don't let it touch me."

Harry looked around, and he didn't see it, squished or alive, so he told Draco it was dead to make him feel better.

He didn't know much about health except for random excerpts of brain surgery he had seen on the muggle television, but common sense told him to keep pressure on the wound. Several minutes later he moved his hand, to see if it was bleeding a bit less, but it was still gushing, and Harry knew that wasn't safe. He got Draco to stand up and follow him to the door, where he helped him slide on shoes. Harry grabbed his wallet with a bit of muggle money in it, and grabbed the room key. He didn't have enough for a taxi, but he went to the bus stop, and when the driver saw how badly Draco was bleeding, he took them to the hospital, though it was off his route.

Draco was shaking his head no as the doctor examined it and told him he would need to get stitches.

"You have to, Drak. Your arm got deeply sliced open because of the porcelain shard."

He shook his head no. Harry realised it must be horribly frightening to be this surrounded by muggle things, after 7 years of an all wizard lifestyle.

"Trust me, it's not that bad. It really doesn't hurt as much as you think it will." Harry was lying through his teeth, he didn't know what it was like to have stitches. He only hoped Draco didn't realise this.

They stuck a needle in his arm to numb it, and Draco whimpered. It took about 10 stitches to close the wound. They wrapped gauze and taped it up, and handed him two Tylenol 3's for pain he might later have. They also bandaged the smaller cuts on his right hand. Surprisingly, Draco remembered to thank the doctor before they left the hospital.

On the bus ride back to the hotel, this one had to be paid for, Draco shivered and leaned into Harry. He realized they were both sopping wet, and hoped Draco had brought a extra change of clothes to the motel.

Draco was able to pull his shoelaces apart with his left hand, and he could tug his wet shirt off his head, but he could only put his right arm in his pyjama sleeve.

Harry, who was trying to get the water off the bathroom floor, and pour it down the sink with a bucket, came back into the room when he heard the blonde boy call him.

"Yeah?"

"I can't get my left arm in it's sleeve. The bandage won't let me bend my arm."

Harry gently lifted Draco's arm and threaded it into the white and powder blue striped sleeve.

"You're going to have to do the buttons too." Draco commented. Harry did the top three buttons and then had a wild urge to stroke Draco's flat stomach. He did another button, then looked at his stomach again. He couldn't help himself. He reached out, and brushed his abdomen.

"if you want to do something, you should tell me before you bother dressing me." Draco laughed.

Ideas surged through Harry's mind, a thousand things he only ever thought of in the few minutes before he fell asleep, but what came out of his mouth was, "I'm not going to be doing anything for awhile, so maybe you should relax."

Harry did the last 2 buttons, then walked back to the bathroom. He had scooped up a bit more water, when Draco called out, "I think we have a quandary."

"I would probably be more worried if I knew was a quandary was. Is it like a gremlin that likes to suck on people's earwax when they sleep? Oh, oops, that's a-"

"Harry, come here please." Harry walked out of the bathroom over to Draco.

"You look exactly the same as you did two seconds ago. What's your problem?"

"I'm not exactly the same. My pants zipper is undone."

"Draco, don't start. Didn't I tell you like three seconds ago that we weren't going to be doing anything?"

"I don't mean it that way, I'm saying, my zipper is undone, and my pants aren't falling down. I can't get my pants off with only one hand. They're too tight."

"You want me to take your pants off for you?"

"No. I want professor Flitwick to take them off. Come on golden boy, think."

"Don't call me Golden boy, ferret." Harry murmured. He grabbed the belt loops of Draco's pants and pulled down, carefully only looking at Draco's face.

"There, now leave me alone." Harry said, harsher then normal. He felt bad for being a bit mean, but taking off Draco's pants gave him surges of feelings that he couldn't withstand for very much longer. He didn't want to do anything yet, so he had to stop the feelings.

"Harry, sweetie. I can't bend my arm, I can't put my pyjama pants on either."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I can't. Come on."

"Sleep in your underwear."

"On these dirty not silk sheets? I don't think so. Come here. They're on the bed."

As Harry was sliding them up Draco's hips, the boy said, "I guess this isn't the best time to tell you I normally don't sleep with my underwear on underneath my pyjamas."

"Draco! I'm not taking those off. The line has to stop somewhere."

"You know," Draco pondered, "I never was too fond of lines. I've always likes curves better."

"Curves?" Harry said, surprised at himself that his voice had turned a bit more throaty then more.

"Yes, curves, like your pliant lips, or your round cheeks, or-" his good arm reached down and cupped Harry's buttocks, "your malleable buttocks." he pulled Harry closer to him, and kissed his lips. "You're just saturated with curves Harry, that's one of the things I love about you."

Harry kissed him back, then pulled away. "I have to finish cleaning the bathroom."

It seemed part of his nature, all the things he had learned during childhood that work (cleaning the bathroom) had to come before enjoying himself (being with Draco.)

After he fixed the bathroom as much as he could, drying the floor with towels, and picking up the shards of porcelain, he came into the other room. Draco was lying with his arm on a pillow, looking at the wall.

"What's the black box on the night stand?" he asked.

"It's a muggle thing, it's called a TV. Let's see if there are any movies we can rent."

Harry flipped through the guide, and finally chose Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the one made in 2003. While he was waiting for the TV to queue it up, he changed into his boxers and a old t-shirt of Dudley's. luckily, all his boxers were his own, that was the only thing that didn't get passed on, was underwear.

you might not have seen this movie, if you don't want it spoiled, or are sensitive to nasty scenes, skip the next few paragraphs

Draco was on his bed, the one nearer the TV, and Harry was on the one that one side was pressed against the wall, and all was seeming to be fine, Draco seemed to like this muggle thing called a movie.

That is, until the hitchhiker girl pulled a gun out of her dress and blew a hole in her brain. Draco screamed as they showed her brains splattered on the back of the car, and ran to Harry's bed, hoping on it and hugging Harry.

you should be ok now.

"Don't worry." soothed Harry. "It's just a movie, she didn't really die."

"What was that weird kind of wand she held?"

"Muggles have it, it's called a gun. Look, things will be ok." he said, running his fingers through Draco's slicked back hair. "It's just a movie."

"I'm not sure if I like it."

"You want to watch the rest in this bed? I can tell you when the scary parts are, I've seen it before." not that Harry had been invited to watch, but as Dudley practically never left the couch, Harry had seen a lot of movies while doing chores within the house.

"ok then."

They watched the rest of the movie together, Harry underneath the blankets, Draco on top, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Except for a few screams such as when sqiucky people close eyes one of the boys got strung on a meat hook, or when the guy stood on top of the car and plunged his chainsaw through the roof and windows ok now they sat quietly, enjoying each others company without saying it.

Then Harry's hand darted out of the blankets to reach for Draco's left, undamaged one.

"You're so cold." he murmured, trying to pull Draco's arm underneath the blanket, but stopping when Draco's stitches moved, and he cried out.

"I'm not cold, you're just overheated."

"No, trust me, I'm not, I'm normal, you really are cold. Do you feel ok? If you feel faint, you might have lost too much blood. If that's true, we should take you back to the hospital."

"Harry, I'm always like this. I've felt like this since I was young. Maybe it has something to do with being born in the winter. It's nothing to be worried about."

"Still, I think you should get underneath the blankets."

"Ok, but be careful of my arm." Draco slid under the comforter, and Harry laid out flat. It was near midnight, and they were both tired. Draco rolled onto his left side, put his arm out straight above his head, and rested his damaged right hand on Harry's t-shirted chest.

"Good night my love."

"Night drak."

The next morning, they paid for their room, and for breakfast they bought McDonalds hash browns, and Draco who had actually never eaten at a McDonalds before, raved over them. They summoned and hopped onto the knight bus, which dropped them off in Hogmede, and they carefully snuck back onto the grounds. Luckily they didn't get caught, and they parted ways, to make sure none of their housemates were worried, or had ratted.

Harry, spotting Hermione, Hagrid, and Ron in Hagrid's garden, rushed over. He spent time with them, calmly planting, until it was time for lunch. At the Gryffindor table, a few of his roommates looked at him with questions in their eyes, but knew better then to ask.

Out of curiosity, Harry turned to Hermione. "I have to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"What does malleable mean?"

"Errm, 1, capable of being shaped or formed as by hammering or pressure, 2, easily controlled or influenced, 3, able to adjust to changing circumstances."

"What! But he said my arse was malleable!" Harry yelled, not noticing how loud his voice was until it was too late.

About 280 pairs of eyes swung to him, and Harry flushed.