A/N: Okay, update! And it was not a long wait! Yay! Okay, this chapter contains smut.not suitable for kiddies, so use your own digression. I truly appreciate the reviews, they really help me right. I love you all! And an extra special thanks goes out to KaratePunk, my beta *hugs* Go read her stories on fanfiction.net, they are amusing. So here tis.

First Contact

Taking a deep breath Draco stepped out of the taxi, shoved some odd Muggle money at the man, grabbed his suitcases and walked up the drive. Come on, you can do this, you've faced Voldemort. It took Draco three tries before his knock on the door actually became audible. He heard a light patter of footsteps, followed by some heavier, clunking ones. The door swung open to reveal Harry, damn it all, Potter, standing in the doorway, with a large, beefy man behind him.

"Uh, yea, Hullo, Mal-Draco, this is my Uncle, Vernon Dursley and um, yea come in," Potter said in a very rushed sort of way. He then stepped aside to make room for Draco to enter.

"Potter," Draco nodded. "Mr. Dursley," nodding again. What else was he supposed to do? He certainly didn't want to touch this Muggle, its mudblood might infect him, and Potter wasn't much better. Mr. Dursley sort of growled in return.

"Take him upstairs before Petunia and Dudley get home, I don't want to deal with their hysterics as well as this mess," and with that the large man turned and left.

"Uh, right then, I'll just take you up, shall I?" Potter asked, hesitantly.

"Whatever, I don't want to stand around in the doorway all day." He followed Potter up the stairs, trying very hard to ignore the rather shapely ass that was at eye level. Potter stopped at a door at the end of the hall.

"Sorry, but we're going to have to share a room, Dudley's got one and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are in the other, and obviously they weren't going to give up their room to a wizard, so that just leaves my bedroom and it's a bit cramped, but it's all we've got right now and-"

Draco cut him off "Do stop babbling Potter, what is wrong with you, did Dumbledore tell you you had to make nice with me? If so, do stop, it's quite nauseating."

"Oh, and hear I thought you were supposed to be making amends with me for your idiot father's rather large downfalls. Well, I see that that was just fluff made up by your mother and that this is going to be hell," he replied furiously. Hmm, Potter looked rather interesting when he turned such a vivid shade of red.

"If you're quite done embarrassing yourself, do shut up and show me where I'll be sleeping." Harry just stared at him.

"What, was that request to difficult? Do I need to explain myself more clearly?" Draco asked, enunciating himself overly. "When I go to sleep.where shall I lay down.as to not be.over run by.Potter-germs?"

"You really are an arrogant git, aren't you," Potter said, shaking his head. "I was going to let you have the bed, but fuck if I will now. You can fucking sleep on the floor, and I hope it's cold."

"Oh that was mature Potter, and I refuse to sleep on the floor," Draco said, advancing on Harry menacingly. "I am still your guest, and the least you can do is let me stay in a shadow of the luxury I am accustomed to. Or I will fucking beat your brains out!"

"The luxury you're accustomed too??? Bloody hell, you are such a poncy little bastard, and don't you dare threaten me!" They were almost nose to nose now, both refusing to back down. At the same time, Draco reached up to commence strangling Harry and Harry geared up to punch Draco squarely in the nose. Both half achieved their goals, and ended up with Draco having a rather bruised hand resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Fuck it, why don't we like, divide the bed, and deal with it that way," Harry said.

"Oh yes, do the noble Gryffindor thing. But it's as good an idea as any, I guess," Draco replied, after quickly removing his hand from Harry's shoulder. "I call the side by the widow"

"But, that's the side I normally sleep on!" Harry replied, indignantly.

"Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it. If I am going to defile myself so as to sleep with in less than a 100 foot radius of Harry fucking Potter, I should at least get to choose the side of the bed I sleep on."

"Oh, boo fucking hoo, it must be terrible. But fine, whatever, if you shut up for awhile you can sleep on the window side." They both glared at each other for a moment and then turned away. Draco was staring resolutely at the window. said a little voice in his head. Where the hell had that come from? He'd probably wake up with some horrible disease. He just hoped the Gryffindorkiness wasn't contagious.

Draco felt Potter shift around behind him, and then heard the door open. "Where are you going?" Draco asked sharply.

"To get your bags, you'd best come help; else it will take a million trips. Honestly, how much clothing did you bring, ya priss." Draco just glared and followed him from the room.

As it was, it took two trips for each of them to get the entire pile of luggage up the stairs. Draco thought to himself. The suitcases made a small mountain in the corner of Harry's room. Now that there was a lack of anything to do, Draco was bored. He swiveled his head, taking in the whole room.

"So what is all this crap," he said, vaguely motioning to the shelves that were full of a rather wide assortment of broken junk.

"Hmm? Oh, this used to be my cousin's spare room, where he kept everything he got bored of or his fat ass had broken. I've just sort of left it, I'm not here enough for it to bother me," Harry replied, offhandedly.

"Figures they'd stick you in the junk room. I'd say you fit in quite nicely with all the boring and broken things," he quipped, trying to get Harry to rise so at least he'd have an argument to distract himself.

"Ah, but I see it as an upgrade. I used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs," Harry said, refusing to rise. Perhaps thinking that if he ignored Malfoy, he'd shut up.

"The cupboard. oh that's rich. The-Boy-Who-Lives-Under-The-Stairs. What a lovely picture."

"Fuck off Malfoy, like I care what you think."

"Perhaps you should, if you listened to my opinion, perhaps you wouldn't be wearing such hideous and over-sized clothing," Draco said, circling Harry.

"Oh, because clothing is just so important. Sorry, I have better things to do than obsess over my image thank you very much," he snapped, sitting sharply on the bed to cut off the circling. "Just because you try and look like a sex god doesn't mean the rest of us should."

"A sex god, eh Potter? Well, I didn't know you fancied me. If I ever feel the need to get involved with rather unfortunate looking, self-righteous idiots, I'll let you know," Draco smirked.

"Get involved with you in any way that doesn't involve ripping your guts out through your nostrils? Ha, now that's amusing. I prefer the people I'm with not to have several STD's and who are known as the Slytherin Slut."

"Ah, so you have heard of my rather impressive reputation. I see nothing wrong with having everyone know you as, in your words, a sex god. And what in the hell are STD's? Even then, I can assure you I don't have them," Draco replied, leering impressively at Harry.

"Ew, stop looking at me like you're going to lick me. And never mind about STD's I don't feel like explaining something so complicated to someone with an IQ as low as yours."

"Oh ha ha, if I remember correctly, I was always better than you in Potions, which you seem to be quite miserable at."

"Hmm, because that's such a good example to base a theory on. A class that is taught by the most biased teacher at Hogwarts. Biased in favor of Slytherins, if I may add. Especially you. What'd you do, blow him after every test, that would certainly explain his favoritism."

"While I won't refute my various bedroom skills, what you just implied is one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard. If Snape favors me, it is only because of my incredible skills in his subject matter."

"Oh I'm sure it is your incredible skills," Potter snorted.

"I'm so done talking about this, you are such an immature pervert," Draco said, turning his back once more.

"Ah yes, ignore me as soon as you realize you're losing. Great tactic." Draco refused to dignify that with a reply, and sat down on the bed, opposite Harry, and was soon absorbed in studying the peeling paint next to Potter's window. If he looked at it hard enough, he could almost pretend he was sitting on a bed, with Harry, with their backs almost touching so that he could feel the heat that radiated from the other boy. It definitely did not affect him at all.

Draco jumped when a knock came on the door.

"Petunia has dinner ready, both of you will be downstairs in less then two minutes. You will be polite and eat as quickly as possible. Harry, do inform your guest," Vernon said guest as if it were a dirty word, "that we will not indulge talk of anything relating to your freaky little doings. We expect to see as little of the both of you as possible." With that Vernon went stomping off back down the stairs.

"Freaky little doings, that the hell does that mean?"

"Well," Harry sighed. "They abhor magic, and will pretty much freak out if you mention anything to do with it. And not in a good way, so don't even try and be funny to the Muggles. If you make living in this house any more difficult than it is now, so help me." Upon finishing, Harry stood swiftly and strode downstairs, Draco hurrying after.

Later:

Dinner had been hell. Every time he opened his mouth, one of the Muggles would shoot him a dirty look. He hated them instantly. He could hardly imagine more terrible people. Draco now understood Harry's comment about living in the house being difficult. He had to deal with a whole week of these idiots? Surely he would go insane.

He and Potter trudged back upstairs, after Draco had watched Potter clean dishes until he thought he would die of boredom. Why didn't he just use magic? Oh, restriction of magic for under age wizards, right, that had never been a problem at the Manor; too many protection spells around it for ministry officials to sense minor magic. But obviously they would sense it here, so Draco made fun of Harry while he did useless Muggle chores.

Now it was bedtime. Draco thought. Draco ignored Harry completely and began digging in his suitcase for some suitably impressive pajamas. He chose and discarded several pair before finally settling on a black tank that hugged his body rather nicely and some black silk boxers. Sleek and refined, perfect for showing up Potter. Not showing off for Potter, definitely not. He started to remove is shirt, but then paused, remembering that Potter was in the room with him. He turned around and his mouth dropped open.

His eyes had fallen on a rather enticing sight; Harry's rather well muscled back.

Draco must have let out some small noise, because Harry turned to look at him, still shirtless.

"Is something the matter, Malfoy?" Harry asked, glaring at him.

"Uh, fuck," Draco replied, still mostly incoherent. "I mean, no, shut up and turn around, I'm going to change."

"Oh, is Draccy-poo afraid for me to see him naked? Are you hiding something? Perhaps a rather interesting tattoo on your arm?"

"Potter, don't talk about things you don't understand," Draco said, turning around and ripping his shirt off. He dressed as quickly as possible and when he turned around again Potter was already in bed. Draco stalked around to his side of the bed and slithered under the covers. He tried to slow his breathing, he felt like he was panting. he asked himself. Forcing himself to relax, he eventually fell into a fitful sleep, listening to the even breathing of the boy next to him.

**He had to be dreaming. Sensations this pleasurable could not truly be taking place. He moaned and thrust his hips against the hand that was gently stroking his cock. He slowly opened his eyes, and let out a groan. There was a fabulously naked Harry Potter laying next to him, his hand leisurely stroking Draco's cock. Harry lifted his eyes from Draco's crotch to stare at Draco intensely. Along with the eye contact, Harry slipped a hand inside Draco's boxers. Lightly calloused fingers caressed his bare skin. God, Draco was in heaven. He thrust his hips again, yearning for more contact, more Harry. When the caresses continued, getting no harder, Draco reached out towards Harry, decided to return the pleasant torture. Hesitantly at first, but then harder, he began stroking Harry lightly. Hmm, when he stroked just so Harry emitted the most wonderful half groan/half gasp. Before Draco could slip his hand around Harry's, Harry pulled away completely. But before he could protest, Draco had a very aroused Harry on top of him. Draco gasp as Harry started moving, thrusting his hips into Draco's. Oh god he thought, and started thrusting back, bringing a hand to their crotches to increase the friction. He was on fire; he looked up and saw Harry, with his head thrown back, mouth slightly open, moaning every few seconds. Draco knew neither of them would last much longer. He surged up, capturing Harry in a kiss, and then let go. They came at the same time, an explosion of fireworks.**

Sunlight streaming in his eyes awoke Draco. He felt warm and content and rather sticky. That had been some dream. He sighed; too bad it hadn't been real. His breathing seemed to be hampered by a comfortable weight on his chest; he must have gotten twisted in the covers; perhaps he had stolen them all from Potter. Then he opened his eyes.

He gaped for a moment, mind trying to make sense of what he saw. A warm, content looking and also rather sticky Harry Potter was asleep on his chest.

A/N: Well, that was that. How'd you like it? Please share, comments and criticism welcome. Next part should come relatively quickly, at least sometime before school starts again on the 26th.