7. Hot Chocolate

Madame Pomfrey's expression was purely beyond words when she opened the door to her private chambers that evening. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were standing behind it, almost tamely together. Harry was grinning somewhat apologetically, squeezing nervously his hands, and Malfoy looked tired and indifferent, almost annoyed. The Slytherin lifted both of his fine eyebrows as if to ask the nursemaid what the heck was wrong with the sight of them two.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy." She let her eyes wander across the boys' muddy clothes and faces. Then she changed into her 'angry mother'–like tone. "Have you two been fighting? Again?"

Draco and Harry nodded as if it would have been a normal, every-night question.

"Well, get inside, get inside…" the nursemaid sighed, pushing the door of her chambers open.

The room was small and warm, almost hot. Evidently it was Pomfrey's private living-room of some sort. A smug, violet magical fire was dancing happily in the grate, casting long shadows of the heavy furniture on the walls. The two windows were completely covered with heavy, dark plume drapes, and there were loads of cocoa-scenting incenses burning on the several, weighty tables. Many overstuffed couches and armchairs were making the room cosy and crammed, added to the dozens of huge pillows all over the area. Every facade had a violet or purple tone, with a tint of gold. Harry thought the style was rather oriental-esque, and highly non-Pomfreyish. Draco thought that Pomfrey hardly needed so many ugly couches, especially when she rarely had any guests.

"Yech," Draco silently shuddered, as Pomfrey turned her back on them.

Harry gave him a warning glare.

"Now, young men, I need to get some medicines from the hospital ward if I plan to make either of you feel any less dreadful. Take your shoes and cloaks off and be comfortable, I will return in no time," Madame Pomfrey said and disappeared in the dark, stony hallway.

Harry and Draco were left alone in the heavily perfumed living area. An awful silence was raging between them; it was even more uncomfortable than their usual, hostile bantering. Harry went to sit on one of the armchairs, diagonally in front of the fireplace. He followed Draco absorbedly with his gaze. His heart was trying to break its way trough his chest plate, and he loathed that feeling.

"We got any good tequila?" asked Malfoy, finally breaking the silence. He airily strolled across the room towards some tables in the far-away corner.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, his voice being perhaps a little too tensed to his taste. "But I'm sure you can find a few bottles of alcohol-based disinfectants there, if you care."

Malfoy rummaged trough a couple of chests of drawers but obviously wasn't happy with what he found. Thus, after finding a pair of pink frilly thongs that belonged to god-knows-whom, he decided to go and sit on a couch opposite to Harry's. Harry felt extremely prickly under the stare of those two cubes of ice that were Malfoy's eyes.

"You know, I am getting very worried about you, Potter," Draco started, his eyes however telling another story than his words. "Not that you wouldn't look as good and healthy as always, excluding your criminal jersey, but one thing worries me extremely. Do you know what it is?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"It's just that you have been acting very uncompromisingly lately. Almost out of the limits," Malfoy continued. "As if you had something inside of you that was pressing your mind. Something you could not define. And because that something obviously has something to do with me, I would very much like to know what it is."

Harry looked away, turning his eyes to the fire. The flames made a soft, lilac halo ballet on his shiny black hair. "You don't give a shit about anyone and no one gives a shit about you, Malfoy, so drop it," he murmured.

"That's only partly true," smiled Draco, a flash of biting wit in his expression. He rapidly took his wand forwards and pointed it at Harry. "Ferratilis!"

Instantly, tight magical handcuffs emerged from the armrests of the chair, wrapping themselves around Harry's wrists.

"What the fucking hell?" yelled Harry, trying to shake the firm cuffs away. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Just a little self-protective measure. I don't want to have a black eye for Friday evening."

"Who cares if you have a black eye or not? Wouldn't make a headline. Now get these sodding chains off me."

Draco rose up and slowly walked in front of Harry. Then he knelt down and leaned heavily on Harry's knees with his elbows. Harry tensed uncontrollably under his touch.

"My, my, Potter…" Draco's voice was all frozen honey. He reached out his hand and pushed some hairs out of Harry's forehead. Then he gingerly slid his finger along Harry's lightning-shaped scar. "Don't lie to yourself. You, for one, give a hell lot shit about me. I can see it in your eyes."

Harry went so furious that he tried to attack Draco, once more that day, but the hand-cuffs prevented him, digging nastily in his skin when he tried to punch the insolent blonde. "I hate you, Malfoy! I just fucking hate you!"

"I know what you mean, Potter," Draco grinned. "I hate you too."

Madame Pomfrey's steps were echoing from the distance, which made Draco rise up. He looked at Potter calculatingly and saw that Harry was positively riled. Returning back to his own couch, he released Harry from the chains only just a second before Pomfrey entered the room.

"How nice to see you two getting finally along, even for one short moment," Pomfrey twittered, settling some disgusting-looking medicines on the table in front of the boys.

Harry looked sombre and Draco dull.

"Here, Mr. Malfoy, drink this hot chocolate while I take care of Harry."

Pomfrey gave Draco a large mug of something steaming and bubbling and brown. Draco took it after first suspiciously scenting it.

"And Mr. Potter, take off your shirt so that I can properly see where you've got your injuries," Pomfrey commanded, promptly preparing her medical equipment for Harry.

Harry's mouth dropped open with disgust. "What? I am not going to take my shirt off! Not in front of him!"

Draco leered and took a sip from his chocolate.

"Don't be childish, Harry dear," Pomfrey scowled. "You are both boys, what on earth could be so awful about this? No, don't you even try to leave, or I'll personally hex you. I didn't bring all this medicine up here for nothing!"

Harry saw that the nursemaid was serious and ceased his steps that were already targeted towards the door. He surrendered. Flushing with irritation, he began to pull his sweater over his head.

Draco sat unworriedly in his chair, taking pleasurable swallows of his hot drink every once in a while. He was watching Harry James Potter undressing himself in front of his eyes.

Sweet mother of Venus… I am going to die.

Harry's body was just as fit and perfect as Draco had imagined it would be. The tanned skin enhanced nicely Harry's delightfully muscular arms and satisfactorily stony stomach. Harry's whole appearance was shining softly blue-bronze in the violet firelight whereas his eyes blazed their own, suffocated green anger.

And here I thought that I was the best-looking guy at Hogwarts… Draco hungrily stared at Harry. Well, I guess even I can be wrong… Draco noticed that Harry firmly avoided his stare. Pomfrey should definitely check if Potter's legs are okay as well, because I certainly didn't spare my kicks…

"Please take off your trousers, Harry."

Whoa, that's more like it… Good girl, Pomfrey…

"I will most definitely not take my trousers down!" Harry cried, appalled.

Aw, come on, Potter, don't be such a prick …

"I insist, Mr. Potter."

Good gracious how it's difficult for him!

"Alright, alright… Just… hurry with it, okay? I don't feel like stripping in front of Malfoy just now."

Yay, he's doing it!

Draco eventually forgot to drink his chocolate. The only things he was interested in were Harry's sporty legs and the bottom that was more than worth looking at. He almost didn't hear when Madame Pomfrey addressed him ten minutes later and told him it was now his turn to lighten the clothing.

Undressing wasn't at all difficult for Draco Malfoy because, unlike Harry, he knew that he looked gorgeous. And because he knew Harry thought him already gorgeous. He settled his high-quality shirt and trousers on the backrest of the sofa in a classy manner, making sure the clothes were not going to crumple. He enjoyed the warmness of the room since the Slytherin dungeons were often chilly and damp. Standing easily in front of the grate, he let Madame Pomfrey heal his bruises one by one.

Harry was making huge efforts not to look at Draco. This obviously made Draco very amused, since he turned his eyes compliantly away, as if to ease Potter's situation. But, as much as Harry tried to prevent himself, he felt he had to take a look at the beautiful sight in front of him. The milky-skinned Slytherin grace, so in his underwear only, was something too irresistible for the eyes. Silky, hoarfrost-white hair, with a slight tinge from the red-blue bonfire that was crackling in the grate, was half covering Draco's eyes. Long, black lashes, like draws of ink, cast spiky shadows down Draco's porcelain cheeks.

No human being can look like that, Harry struggled for breath and almost dropped his chocolate mug.

The lines of Draco's fine Quidditch muscles were soft but clear in the dusky lighting. The biceps tensed a little when Madame Pomfrey touched an especially sore bruise, and Harry felt like hypnotized.

For the love of Morgan… I am going to die.

Harry did not try to conceal his esteem any more. He thought he was really going to die, his heart was beating so fast. But if he really was to meet the end of his days, at least it would be in a pleasant way. Surely, Draco Malfoy's stunning body outshined Voldemort's killing curse out-and-out.

When Madame Pomfrey was finally finished with Draco, the Slytherin cast Harry a wide, chaffy smile, looking both boyishly handsome and unbearably sexy at the same time. Harry woke up from his trance and looked confusedly down at his chocolate, which was now undeniably cold. He wanted to cry. Draco had won the game, this time.

Madame Pomfrey did not see the odd chemistry between his patients, only forced them to take a couple of bogey-tasting pills and a glass of what looked like sewer water, which Draco eventually poured in a flower pot behind him in secret. Then Madame Pomfrey hurried them away from her chambers, wanting to spend the rest of the evening alone with her favourite book, Gilderoy Lockhart's Magical Me.

"Bet you enjoyed watching me, didn't you, Potter," chuckled Malfoy, when the two of them were walking away from the hospital wing.

Harry hated himself for the fact that Malfoy was right, but wasn't going to admit that. Therefore he tried to throw a similar, half sarcastic comment back at Draco.

"One superior trouble with you, Malfoy, is that you have an incredibly dirty mind."

Draco gave a laugh. "And that coming from you is the most priggish remark I've heard in my life! Remembering that you were the one who first wasn't going to undress, fearing that I would think something sex-related when seeing your body half-naked."

"Well, did you?"

Harry tried to hide how much he dreaded the answer. Come to think of it, he didn't even know which of the two possible answers he would want to hear. If Draco said that he didn't, Harry would probably suffer from evil heartache many days. And if he said he did… Harry would still suffer from heartache many days.

Draco smiled playfully to him. "I did."

Harry stopped dead and gazed at Malfoy, who flashed his most brilliant smirk at him. Before Harry could say or do anything in reply, Draco strode down the stairs, shoulders shaking with suffocated laughter.

Harry slowly returned to his own dormitory, trembling with mixed feelings of abhor and shocking happiness.

He is only toying with me… He is only toying with me…

Harry stopped to look out of the window, to the starry night. Tears finally filled his radiant eyes.

I hate myself. I hate… I want to go down with that sodding sun and never see the silvery moon again… Not the silvery moon again…

…TBC…