Hey. Sorry this took so long to update. I also want to thank all the reviewers, you well and truly make my day, and I also wish to apologise if some of this chapter seems a bit strange. There are a few inside jokes in here, between a few friends and I. Apart from the strangeness, hope you like.
o
o
o
Harry pulled himself up, bringing a hand to his head, which was aching like crazy.
'Ow.' he murmured, and slowly stood up from the couch, looking round to see a sleeping Draco Malfoy lying on the couch adjacent to the one he had just been collapsed on. Harry stared down at Draco, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his slightly pink cheeks, his ruffled hair. Harry thought he looked rather sweet.
Harry stumbled to the kitchen, absent-mindedly running his fingers through his hair. He squinted, wondering why, if Draco hadn't got up, the curtains were open and it was so bloody bright. He looked up and realised the curtains were completely shut.
Damn hangover.
He made his way to the bathroom, to have a cold shower to better wake him up. It didn't work, and after about ten minutes, he still felt like shit, but now he was cold as well. He wondered vaguely if Draco would have any muggle painkillers, but dismissed the idea immediately. Hangover potion would work, though.
Harry staggered to his room, and suddenly realised he didn't have any hangover potion. I wonder if Draco has some? he thought, and staggered into Draco's room.
It was a nice room, with soft hues of cream and green, plush carpet tingling underfoot. Harry took a moment to take in a deep breath, inhaling a smell that was uniquely Draco, and began foraging around Draco's stuff. It didn't occur to him, in his lull, that maybe he shouldn't be doing this.
He pulled open a drawer and realised it was full of photos. He pulled one out. A smirking Draco Malfoy on his first day of school, every now and again adjusting his robe or swinging his wand around threateningly. Harry smiled. He looked so cute. Apart from the fact that he looked like he had just killed something. And the fact that he had the ex-Dark Lord's ex-right hand man, Lucius Malfoy, towering over him, a stiff hand rested on his shoulder.
Harry picked up another picture. This looked to be some sort of family and colleagues picnic, though it didn't look to be a very cheery occasion. A large group of Death Eaters, scowling round an enormous floating plank of wood that seemed to be being used as a table, piled high with steaming plates of meat. The Draco in the picture was looking round nervously, and every now and again, when he thought the others weren't looking, he kept on trying to sneak off the page. Draco's mother, a scowling Narcissa, kept on having to drag Draco back to his seat.
Harry rummaged through and picked up another picture. Two boys, of roughly the same age, seemed to be having a heated scuffle. Harry looked closer, and he realised one of them was Draco Malfoy. Upon the closer inspection, however, he realised that this was no scuffle. He blushed and put the photo down as the boy underneath Draco, (who looked very much like that Zambini character in Slytherin), groaned as Draco began kissing his neck, making slow circles of his hips.
'What are you doing in my room, Potter?' a low voice cut through the air.
Harry spun around to see Draco standing in the doorway, scowling. Harry blushed.
'Err, um...I was just...looking to see if you had a...hangover potion.' Harry stammered.
'You didn't think to ask me?' Draco said.
'Er, you were asleep.' said Harry.
Draco nodded. 'That I was.' Then, to Harry's surprise, he smiled. 'I don't keep it in there, actually. It's out here, in the cupboard. Come on.' and he turned around and lead Harry to the kitchen. Harry followed; stunned that Draco wasn't furious.
'Here.' said Draco, handing him a small glass jar. 'In return for you never going through my stuff again.' he said in a way that reminded Harry much of Dumbledore. Specific, cold order, sugar coated in a pleasant voice.
Harry nodded. 'Thanks.' he said, swallowing the foul tasting liquid as fast as he could.
Then, like the Knight Bus had just popped out of the air and crashed into him, he remembered what happened. Everything materialized in his head, running a slide show past his eyes.
Draco, slamming him against the wall and ravishing his mouth.
Draco, pushing him down on the table, grinding up against him.
Draco, coaxing Harry into co-operation with spine tingling kisses all over his neck.
Draco, whispering Harry's name softly as he came.
Draco, staring down into his eyes wistfully.
Draco, murmuring goodnight and falling down onto the couch, asleep within minutes.
Harry stood staring at Draco, frozen. He vaguely realised that Draco was saying something.
'Huh?' he stammered, shaking his head.
'I said it doesn't really work, anyway.' Draco said, contemptuously.
'Oh?' asked Harry, not wanting to say more in case he stammered again like an idiot.
'Nah. I still can't remember anything about last night after they left.' Draco said.
'You...you can't?' Harry asked, not sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.
'No.' said Draco, and then he peered at Harry. 'Nothing happened, did it?' Draco asked, staring at Harry. 'Are you blushing, Potter?'
Harry blushed. 'No. Why would I be? Don't be ridiculous.'
o
Draco scanned Harry's scarlet face, contemplating the reaction. There was nothing wrong with the potion, of course. He could remember everything.
Everything.
The feel of Harry's lips beneath his.
Harry's soft, silky skin underneath his fingertips.
The wonderful sounds that choked from Harry's mouth as he threw his head back.
His tattoo, crooning, blowing kisses and moaning.
But as soon as he woke up in the morning, took the potion, and headed to his room where Harry was rummaging around his photos (which he really should not have been doing, note to self: hide photos, Draco thought) and looked into Harry's eyes, he knew Harry would regret it. He knew they'd have an awkward conversation, with Harry stammering and blushing as much as was humanly possible. He knew they'd be uncomfortable around each other, jolting every time their hands touched when they passed something, carefully avoiding brushes of legs, nudges of feet, until everything became so unbearable that Harry would make up some excuse and move somewhere else, never to be seen by Draco again.
And Draco didn't want that. Loathed as he was to admit it, he liked having the company of another in his apartment. He liked popping out to the shops, buying dinner for two. He liked scowling when Harry left his things lying around, the soft padding footsteps down the hall late at night when Harry couldn't sleep, waking up and seeing Harry smiling at him from the kitchen table. He liked the freedom of living with a wizard, being able to cast spells and read thick books on potions and their properties without having to constantly check if someone was watching. He liked their banter, their discussions, their subtle flirting.
To hell with it, he liked Harry.
Which was a strange prospect. He remembered tossing and turning in his Slytherin quilts at night, scowling and hissing, thinking about that bloody Potter, every one thinks he's so amazing, so perfect, so fantastic, doesn't even know the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, gets to be on the Quidditch team, turned me down, hangs out with that horrid Weasel, thinks he's so funny and cool just because everyone loves him...
He remembered glaring across at Harry over the tables, hating the way everyone swarmed to him, shaking Pansy off his arm to better concentrate on scowling.
He remembered hunting him down just to make fun of him, delighted with the way Harry's face flushed with fury.
He remembered practicing at ungodly hours of the morning, just so he came close to the skill Harry showed on the Quidditch pitch.
He remembered sitting at home, silently brooding, not being able to wait to join Voldemort, so he could finally rid the world of that fucking Harry Potter once and for all.
And yet here he was now, carefully not saying anything about their first sexual encounter, lest Harry become embarrassed and decide to distance himself from Draco.
Strange, strange world.
Draco peered at Harry's flushing cheeks, wondering what was going on in Harry's mind. Wondering if Harry knew he was pretending he couldn't remember. Wondering if Harry actually did regret it, or if...maybe somehow...
No! Draco mentally scolded himself. Fucked if he went down that road in his mind. That's exactly the way one becomes attached to a person. That's exactly the way one feeds himself bullshit, and chokes on it late at night.
'Well, that's good.' Draco said. 'Anyway, I thought I might go to Diagon Alley again today. I know we went yesterday, but I have to restock some potion ingredients. I seem to have run out of hangover potion.' Draco said, giving Harry a pointed look.
Harry gave a small smile. 'Uh, sure.' he said, nodding.
Draco looked at Harry expectantly. 'You coming?'
'Uh, ok.' said Harry.
'You mean, as soon as you find some shoes that actually suit your outfit, do your hair and floss your teeth.' Draco said, matter-of-factly.
'Hey!' said Harry, indignantly. 'These shoes are fine. My teeth are brushed, and there's no spell in the world for this mop.' he said, gesturing exasperatedly to his hair.
'No, there isn't a spell. But there's these wonderful things called muggle hair products!' proclaimed Draco, gleefully.
Harry looked at Draco reluctantly. 'Oh, all right.' he said. Draco smiled.
'I've got some in the bathroom.' Draco said, gesturing for Harry to follow him. He opened the cabinet in the bathroom, and brought out a small tub of hair product. The writing was far too fancy and small and boutique and foreign for Draco to work out what it was, but it smelled good, felt gold, and looked good, so what did it matter?
'Are you going to be able to manage this by yourself, Potter?' Draco asked.
'Back to Potter, now, huh?' Harry mumbled.
'Pardon?' asked Draco, though he heard perfectly well.
'Nothing.' muttered Harry.
Draco sighed. 'Well, would you like me to do it?'
'What are you, a hairdresser?' laughed Harry.
No, I'm just dying to run my fingers through your gorgeous, silky hair again. 'Of course not. I'm better than any "hairdresser" you could drag up.'
'Modest, too.' Harry snorted.
'I don't believe in lying.' Draco said, pompously.
'Straight from the deceivers mouth.'
'Oh, be quiet, Potter.' said Draco. 'Now, sit down.'
'On what?' Harry asked.
Draco looked around. 'Toilet will do.'
'Ugh, no thanks.' said Harry, scrunching up his face.
'Don't be stupid, Potter. I'm going to do your hair.' Draco said, as if somehow Harry had forgotten.
'Oh, all right.' Harry sighed, and lowering the top seat, he sat down on the toilet.
Harry waited patiently, gazing up at Draco, as Draco scooped up liberal amounts of the slippery substance and rubbed it on his fingers, trying very, very hard not to think about another situation than involved he and Harry doing something very similar to this, perhaps with a little less clothing.
Draco ran his greasy hands through Harry's hair, reveling at the soft, silky feel of it on his coarse fingertips. He worked the gel through Harry's hair, flattening out the little curls at Harry's temple, moving his fingers in little circles against Harry's scalp, massaging the product into every strand. Harry gave a small moan, and Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow.
'Glad to see you like it, Potter.' he said.
o
Harry blushed a deep scarlet. 'Just...feels nice.' he said, shortly, cursing himself for getting into this situation.
As if spending time with Draco wasn't uncomfortable enough.
In a way, Harry was relieved that Draco didn't remember. They didn't have to go through the whole embarrassment thing, which was bound to happen, and excruciating to go through. The morning so far had been blissfully free of shaming conversations.
But what if Draco wouldn't regret it, if he remembered? What if Harry reminded him and Draco didn't laugh it off, but instead a wonderful relationship flourished between them? What if Draco stared lustfully into his eyes, and threw him down on the bed and did the deed proper this time?
Then again, what if Draco did remember? Harry had taken the potion, hadn't he? He remembered. Wasn't it the same one Draco had taken? Had he taken a different one? What if Draco did remember, but couldn't be bothered with it? Or even worse, thought it disgusting and didn't want to think about it?
Or what if Draco did remember it, but didn't want to say anything in case Harry didn't feel the same way as him?
Harry snorted. That didn't sound anything at all like Draco. If Draco Malfoy wanted something, Draco Malfoy got it.
Harry froze. Maybe that's what it was all about. Maybe, to prove Michael wrong, or to "bum him out" (so eloquently put), he had seduced Harry, ready to tell Michael of their adventures with a laugh. Ok, so it wasn't sex. But it was certainly more than Harry had ever done with another male before.
What if Draco had just wondered idly one day whether it'd be fun to have Harry, and so got him drunk to find out? What if Harry was just part of some Draco-scheme?
Harry sighed. Too many what ifs floating around in his head.
The biggest one was what if he were to stand up, pull Draco towards him and kiss him again for all he was worth? How would Draco respond?
Harry didn't want to risk it. He'd had too many risks in his life so far, and he was sick of them. He didn't always make them, either.
'There we go, Potter. All done.' Draco said, beckoning for Harry to look in the mirror. Harry stood up, and walked slowly to the reflective glass. He stared at his reflection for a moment, with a blank expression.
'I look like...' Harry began, but then shook his head.
'Like what?' Draco prompted.
'Like some sort of...hair model.' Harry finished.
Draco smirked. 'I'll take that as a compliment.'
Harry turned at looked at him. 'Uh, thanks, I guess.' he said, blushing a little.
'Don't mention it.' Draco said, marveling at the power that Harry had to turn any situation uncomfortable. 'Now all you need is some contacts.' he said, staring at Harry's rounded spectacles disapprovingly.
Harry spluttered. 'But my glasses are my trademark. How will anyone recognise me?' he said, dramatically. Then he blinked. 'There's a thought.'
Draco smirked. 'Exactly.'
o
o
o
Draco lay sprawled across the couch, watching the sun set below the soft, pink clouds. He stretched his toes, and wriggled into the couch to get more comfortable.
It had been a whole week since his "thing" with Harry (as he always referred to it in his mind) and everything was different yet exactly the same. He had to pretend everything was the same, still arguing, joking, flirting with no meaning behind it. He had to pretend he didn't get a chill down his spine every time he and Harry reached for the same thing and their fingers brushed, and Harry's wonderfully emerald eyes locked with his. He had to pretend that late at night, when neither were tired, and Harry asked 'So...what do you wanna do?' that he didn't itch to proclaim 'You.' and jump Harry like there was no tomorrow.
Because Harry hadn't said anything. If Harry had actually wanted Draco, and by now he knew that at least on some level Draco wanted Harry back, he would have done something about it by now, wouldn't he?
Draco sighed, and brought his arms up behind his head. There was no point thinking about it. He'd just go round and round in circles and end up being more confused and annoyed and upset and frustrated than when he began.
He suddenly realised the sun had gone down. He hated when that happened, when you're mooching in front of a sunset and you become so lost in your thoughts that minutes become hours and seconds become days and you have no sense of time whatsoever, until you're shivering in the cold.
Well, Draco wasn't exactly shivering yet. He was still surprised to pull himself out of his lull and find himself shrouded in darkness, though.
He heard soft footsteps pad down the hallway and into the lounge, where he was flopping, and a timid 'Are you awake, Draco?' from Harry. Draco pretended to be asleep, which earned him a playful shove from Harry.
'I know you're not asleep, you idiot.' said Harry. 'Like you'd fall asleep and miss the chance to go clubbing.'
Draco froze. Clubbing.
'Potter, you idiot! Why didn't you come and get me before now?' Draco said, hopping up.
Harry snorted. 'It's only like...eight o clock, or something.'
Draco yelped and ran to the bathroom. 'Only eight o clock?' he screamed down the hallway. 'How the hell am I going to have time to have my milk bath, to moisturise my skin? How am I going to do my five-step hair washing process? How am I going to my process of elimination with every single piece of my clothing, and then go on to you? Who's going to do my make-up while I polish my shoes?' Draco said, sounding slightly hysterical. Draco heard Harry burst into peals of laughter through the wall. 'What's so damn funny? This is no time to be amused, Potter! There is work to do!'
Harry stumbled down the hallway, still holding his stomach from laughing too much, and came and stood in the doorway. 'You're such a poof, Draco.'
Draco raised an eyebrow. 'This coming from you?' he said, smirking. Harry's laughter stopped, and then he frowned. Draco cursed himself, and bit his lip. He wasn't supposed to remember anything. Shit, shit, shit.
'Uh, anyway,' Draco said quickly, 'I guess I've got enough moisturiser on at the moment, my skin always looks flawless anyway. My hair always looks flawless anyway...so all I have to do is clothes, shoes, makeup... Come on, Potter.'
'You wear makeup?' Harry asked, his smile coming back.
'So will you, as of tonight.' Draco said, leering at Harry.
'I bloody will not.' Harry said, obstinately.
'Of course you will. What, you're proposing to wear leather without black eyeliner?' Draco said, feigning shock.
'I'm wearing leather?' Harry bemusedly asked.
Draco didn't need to feign his shock. 'Of course you are. What better opportunity do you have?'
Harry shrugged. 'Just...not sure I'm comfortable wearing them in public.'
Draco's jaw dropped. 'Harry, they're not a piece of clothing designed for practicality and comfort when you're living in a hole miles from civilization.' Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'Leather pants are an article of deliciousness designed purely to enhance your best features and draw all eyes to you and your lower half.' Draco said, with emphasis. Harry blushed deeply.
'Maybe I shouldn't wear them.' he mumbled.
'Nonsense. You've an arse to die for, Potter.' Draco said.
Harry stiffened, and his head shot up and his eyes lingered on Draco's. Draco smiled sarcastically, and Harry relaxed. 'Been looking at my arse, have you?' Harry teased.
'Only in the shower.' Draco said, lightly. Oh, this is too much fun, Draco said, watching Harry's cheeks stain crimson again.
'What?' hissed Harry.
'Just kidding, Potter. God, why are you so on edge lately? What's up your arse?' Draco said, smirking. Feigning innocence was rather fun, actually, unless Harry caught on.
'Nothing, actually.' Harry said delicately, staring deep into Draco's eyes, as if trying to convey a point. Innocence, however, would completely miss the point. Which is what Draco did, of course.
'Well, let's hope we can change that tonight, huh?' Draco said, suggestively. Harry swallowed and stared at Draco. 'I'm sure we can find you someone nice enough.'
Harry looked down at his feet and nodded. If Draco didn't know better, he'd say Harry looked disappointed.
'Now, come on. Let's get you changed.' said Draco, feeling strangely more like a father than any other time in his life. 'First, put on the leather pants,' (fatherly feeling wavering slightly), 'and then we can find you something absolutely ravishing to wear on top.' (and... gone.)
Harry nodded, and made his way into his room. Draco smiled to himself, and with one last look in the mirror (flawless, as per usual), he made his way to his room, to find Harry a top to go with his pants, and one for himself, too. He already knew he was going to wear leather pants as well. What else does one wear when one is gay, wild, ready to have a good time and wanting everyone else in existence to know it? He also knew his friends would be insanely jealous when they turned up in tight, hot, leather pants, looking absolutely edible, which he always did, and he had seen with his own eyes the power the material could unleash on a young male's backside, and Harry was by no accounts "saggy".
He pulled his leather pants out of his enormous wardrobe, cursing himself for only having one measly little wardrobe, as you should at least have three, if you are to be presentable on a daily basis. Draco whipped off his jeans, and slowly slid into the pants. Damn struggle they were getting into, leather pants. Just as well they were easy to get out of, or Draco might start having second thoughts. Draco ran his eyes up and down his reflection, and snorted. As if.
He looked back into his wardrobe, and surveyed the attire. Hmm. He really needed to go shopping again. And get a new wardrobe. He fingered through many of his "interesting" outfits, and some of his more sensible ones, and cursed himself for not purchasing a few items when they were out in Diagon Alley the previous week. One could not a wear a tailored white shirt with gold around the cuffs to the sort of places they were going.
He eventually picked out a silver chain linked mesh top for himself (with a grin, thinking it would do nicely to display his nipple ring), and a tight black t-shirt (by tight, he meant would have done well as a corset) for Harry. He knew Harry wouldn't agree to anything too extravagant, and yet this top left nothing to the imagination.
He frowned slightly and wondered why Harry was taking so long. He walked out of his room and stood outside Harry's door, listening for struggles with the zipper, but there was mostly silence issuing from the Golden Boy's sleeping area.
'You alright in there, Potter?' called Draco.
'Um, well I'm not really–'
'You got the pants on?' interrupted Draco.
'Uh, yeah, but–'
Draco walked in, and began to tell Harry that he had chosen a top for him that would go very nicely indeed (he was planning a little smirk, if the chance arrived) but he felt the words evaporate and his mouth dry up as his eyes took in the sight laid out before him.
Harry James Potter was lying on his bed, in nothing but a pair of the sleekest, sexiest leather pants, each molecule of the material making love to the particles of Harry's skin, as Harry's bare chest glistened in the light, his face flushed and his hair sweaty.
'They're ah...hard to get on.' Harry said, quietly, sitting up from the bed.
Draco squeaked. He shook his head and tried again, but it seemed the power of speech had left him, being in the presence of an absolutely beauty and all.
'Nice pants.' Harry said, smirking down at Draco's trousers. Draco merely nodded slightly. 'Did you find a top?' Harry asked, looking vaguely ashamed at his own bare-chested-ness. Draco felt like saying there weren't any tops left in the world, and he was sorry, but Harry would have to walk around like that for the rest of his life. What a pity. But instead, Draco nodded emphatically, and with a lingering look at Harry's torso, he trudged back to his room, cursing the heavens above as he handed Harry the top.
'Doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?' Harry said, smiling a little, pulling the black top over his muscled torso. Draco felt an odd pulling at his heart as he did so, but found the t-shirt was a happy compromise, outlining every muscle, curve, slant, and general shapeliness of his friend's? foe's? lover's? body.
'That is the point.' Draco forced out of his mouth.
'Ah, the snake found his tongue?' Harry said, smirking in a way that reminded Draco oddly of...himself, in a way. Rather disturbing thought, there.
'Hmm. I was contemplating.' said Draco.
'And what exactly were you contemplating?' Harry laughed.
'Wondering if "what's your sign?" still works.' Draco said, tapping his chin.
'You can't be serious.' Harry said, his smile fading slightly.
'Of course I am, you idiot. I'm slightly more sophisticated than that, even if I do say so myself.' said Draco, puffing out his chest.
'Do you have a name?' mocked Harry with a simpering smile. 'Besides "that cute one sitting at the bar?"'
Draco, with a sick feeling in his stomach, felt a hot tingle at his cheeks.
'Shut up, Potter.' he said. Then he tried a winning smile. 'You were hook, line, and sinker.'
'You always distort the past, Draco. Somehow, you always mess things up.' Harry said with a laugh and slightly keener eyes than were necessary.
'You must have the cleanest bottom in the world, Potter, because all the shit comes out your mouth.' said Draco, proudly. Harry scoffed.
'Where'd you get that, some scody Muggle program?'
Draco smirked. 'I believe so.' he said, and pulled off his t-shirt, throwing it in the washing basket loitering in the corner of his room. He could have sworn he heard an intake of breath on Harry's behalf, but he put it down to wishful thinking instead. He slipped on the chain top, shivering as the cold metal came in contact with his warm, pale skin.
'So. The famous nipple ring, huh?' said Harry, and Draco felt oddly smug about having the saviour of the wizardring world gesturing at his chest.
'Yip. It's a little snake; can you see? It's even got a little emerald in its mouth, if you can tell. A real one.' Draco said, and Harry took a few steps closer to Draco, leaning down to Draco's nipple, his soft hair tickling Draco's chin.
'Very nice.' Harry murmured, his hot breath making Draco's nipple harden. Draco jolted, and thought fast.
'God, bloody cold in here, isn't it?' he said. Harry raised his head, and an eyebrow.
'If you say so.' he said, uncertainly. Draco rubbed his hands together, and looked around the room.
'Now all we need is some make-up.' he said.
'I am not wearing make-up.' Harry said, stoutly.
'Of course you are. You'll look ridiculous if you don't.'
'I'll look ridiculous if I do.' Harry protested. 'I'm male. I don't wear make-up.'
'Whoever taught you that sexist ideal?' Draco gasped. 'Everyone can wear make-up. Especially where we're going.'
'Where are we going?' Harry asked, suspiciously.
'Clubbing, Harry, clubbing.' Draco said, as if talking to a small child.
Harry sighed. 'Gee, thanks for that.'
Draco skimmed his eyes frantically over his stuff. 'Now...where is my...ah ha!' he said, obviously spotting something. He moved towards the bedside cabinet, and picked up what looked to be a small pencil. 'Eye liner.' he proclaimed, happily.
'Oh, no way.' Harry said, eyeing the pencil with a look almost of fear.
'Don't be silly. It goes with your outfit. You'll look fabulous.'
'Fabulous, dah-lin... don't you know what you sound like, Malfoy?' Harry said, emphasizing his last name.
'Don't be prejudice. Sit down on the bed.'
Harry shot Draco A Look. 'Why?'
'So I can put this on you, you imbecile. By the way you're fluffing about I figured you've never done it before.' Draco said.
'And I don't intend to now, or ever again.' Harry said, sounding more and more like a petulant child by the minute.
'Didn't you say that about the pants? And now you love them.'
'I wouldn't go that far.' Harry said, with a dubious look.
'Are you trying to insult me, Potter?'
'Of course not.' Harry said, shaking his head. 'I just don't want to wear make-up like some kind of...some sort of...'
Draco snarled. 'Say it. Go on, say it. Faggot? Homo? Dick fucker? Poof? Any other words that come streaming out of a Weasley's mouth?'
'Hey, Percy's gay.' Harry protested.
'Yeah, and look how close he is with them now.' Draco said, sarcastically.
'That had nothing to do with his sexual orientation.' Harry tried to point out.
'Sure sure.' Draco said, disbelieving.
'They're not homophobic.' Harry stated.
'But you are?' Draco retorted.
'How could I be?' shot Harry.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'You stupid or something?' Harry laughed.
'Look who's talking!'
'Well, it's kind of obvious, isn't it?' Harry said.
'What, you're gay?' Draco asked, with less venom.
'Nah, what do you think?' Harry said sarcastically, gesturing down to his outfit. Draco leapt at the free chance to run his eyes along Harry's body.
'Well, then why do you have a problem with eyeliner?' Draco replied, mentally congratulating himself. Harry stared at Draco, then sighed, and gave a small smile.
'Game, set, match.' he said, weakly, and sat down on the side of Draco's bed.
'Welcome to the dark side, Mr Potter.'
'Ha ha.'
'No, I'm serious.' Draco said, slowly unscrewing the lid of the pencil, 'This is the thickest, blackest, most feminine piece of crap I've ever seen.'
'Goody.' Harry said, flatly.
'Now, if I can just...' Draco said, moving towards Harry, 'can you just move back a bit?' he said, laying his hand on Harry's chest and pushing back slightly. Harry obliged, shuffling back further on the bed. 'Sorry about his.' Draco said, softly, and brought his knee forward to sit between Harry's thighs. Draco thought Harry did the Weasley's proud with a beetroot blush as he leant forward into Harry. 'Can you just lean your head back a little bit?' Draco asked, and Harry leant his head back, casting his eyes to the ceiling, exposing very edible looking skin to Draco, who immediately mentally reprimanded himself. 'Now, hold still, and close your eyes.' Draco said, firmly, placing a hand on Harry's soft cheek. 'And don't move.'
'Careful of my contacts.' Harry said, quietly. Draco could feel his pulse racing, and felt a small shiver go down his spine.
'Don't worry. From one delicate man to another.' Draco said, and he winked, swearing he could feel Harry's face heat up beneath his fingertips. He leant down closer, just a breath away from Harry's lips, and drew a think line along the top of Harry's lashes. He pulled back to examine his work, and allowed himself a self-satisfied smile before moving onto the other eye. He repeated the process, and blew on Harry's eyes (which he really didn't need to do, he just liked seeing Harry's eyelids flutter).
'There we go.' Draco said, softly. 'Open your eyes.'
'All done?' Harry asked, opening his wonderful eyes to lock with Draco's, his sweet breath tingling with Draco's.
Draco snorted. 'Still got to do the bottom, the most important part.' Draco said, matter-of-factly.
'Of course.' Harry said, pompously, and laughed, causing Draco to jiggle around nearly in Harry's lap.
'Don't laugh, you idiot!' hissed Draco, playfully. 'Or you'll end up with black lines criss-crossing across your face like you've been run over by a train. Mind you,' he said, pulling back and surveying Harry, 'looks like that anyway most of the time.' he finished with a grin. Harry shoved him playfully.
'Hold still, I said!' Draco said, in a mock shriek. Harry laughed, but then pulled his face into place and froze. 'Good boy.' Draco said. He leaned forward, but despite Harry's attempts at imitating a statue, the man seemed incapable of being still, as silent peals of laughter racked his body. 'You're hopeless.' Draco sighed.
'No, no, no, I'll be a good boy.' Harry said, solemnly, but Draco could still see he was giggling slightly. He leaned forward and placed a steady hand behind Harry's head, attempting to still the man, but Harry couldn't control himself.
'Ach! Come on, Harry!' Draco scowled. Harry smiled, and snaked an arm around Draco, placing it on Draco's lower back, steadying himself.
'This better?' he asked, looking deep into Draco's eyes.
'Yip, sure thing.' Draco squeaked, cursing himself for only just finding out about the ability to talk like a chipmunk now.
'Good.' Harry said, softly. Draco nodded, and leant forward, trying to concentrate on the thick black line of substance he was drawing on Harry's lower eyelash, but the tingling breath on his chin and the warmth Harry was exuding that was seeping into the air along with his cologne and unique smell, was intoxicating.
Draco finished his task, and allowed himself a lingering gaze into Harry's eyes before he reluctantly pulled away, smiling mischievously at his handiwork.
'Just brilliant. A first prize poof.' Draco said, proudly.
'Oh, that's right,' Harry said, standing up absent-mindedly, 'talking of the Weasleys–'
'Like, ten minutes ago.' Draco put in.
'I have to tell them where I'm living now. They don't know yet. No one knows yet.' Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
'How will they feel when you tell them you've been secretly living with a raging homosexual claiming to be the Malfoy heir?' Draco smirked.
Harry smiled grimly. 'Charmed, I'm sure.'
o
o
o
'Drake!' said a loud voice, booming over the heart-thudding music. Harry turned and squinted as the flashing lights in the dark impaired his vision, to see Michael leading a small crowd to Draco and Harry, who had been lingering in the corner, slightly less attached to each other than many others in their position.
'Nice of you to join us!' shouted Draco. Michael grinned, and his eyes flicked to Harry, and momentarily widened with shock.
'Fuck.' he said, and Harry felt like he was taking part in a medical examination as Michael's eyes ran over every particle of his body, ending up back at his face again. 'Well, hello, there. D'you have a name?'
Draco laughed. 'It's Harry, Michael. Don't you remember him?'
Michael did a double take, and allowed himself to repeat the examining process.
'Holy shit. So it is.' he said, smirking. 'You look...fuck, Harry. You look fuckable.' Michael said with a grin, licking his lips slightly. Harry stiffened, and thought he could feel Draco doing the same, but he dismissed it. But hardened his resolve.
'I didn't before?' Harry said with a mock pout. He wasn't going to let Michael intimidate him again.
'Oh, I never said that.' Michael said, winking at Harry. 'Can I buy you a drink?'
Harry raised his glass of lurid liquid. 'Got one, thanks.'
'Well, let me know when you need me.' Michael said with another wink.
'So, you know everyone, don't you, Harry?' Draco said, gesturing at his friends. 'Aidan, Michael,' (a snort from Harry), 'Rowan...oh, and this is Elias, and Joh.' Draco said gesturing at the two who'd joined their group.
'Hello.' said Harry, politely, rather rattled. Elias was fine, a young man with a smallish nose, sandy hair, and impish grin, and lurid clothing, but Joh was clearly one who waltzed to his own tune. His dark, black hair stuck up in a spiky mohawk, and his clothing was all chains and black and metal and dragons and spikes. Yet despite looking like a goth, his eyes were surrounded with pink, glittery eye shadow. Harry marveled at Joh as his pale face grinned at Harry. Harry wasn't sure how, but he knew the young man would spell his name with an 'h'. Just the way Draco had said it. 'Johhhhh.' Harry snorted, quickly turned it into a cough, and took a large gulp of his drink.
'So,' said Michael, leering at Harry, 'Fancy a dance?' he said, gesturing at the large group of gyrating people nearer the centre of the room.
'Uhh...' said Harry, casting a furtive glance at Draco, who was (carefully?) not looking at Harry. 'I'm not really much of a dancer.' Harry confessed.
'Oh, I don't believe that at all.' Michael said.
'I'll...I'll probably step on your toes.' Harry mumbled. Michael laughed.
'We're not bloody waltzing, Harry.' he said, and the others laughed, and Harry felt his face burn. Michael put a hand on Harry's waist. 'Come on.' he urged.
'People need to be a bit more drunk to willingly do things with you, Michael, don't you remember?' Draco put in, and the others chortled.
'You stay out of this.' Michael said, pointing a finger at Draco's face.
'Why, afraid he likes me better? Afraid I'll taint him? Too late.' Draco said with a laugh. Harry's eyes widened and he shot a shocked look at Draco. Draco swallowed, and said easily, 'I'm kidding, guys. I'm kidding.' He waved a nonchalant hand 'Whatever. Be free.'
'I didn't realise I was asking your permission, Drake.' Michael hissed.
'Well, a lot of things seem to pass you by, Michael.' Draco said lightly.
'Like what, exactly?' Michael retorted.
'See, you don't even know. Because they passed you by.' Draco laughed.
'You always were a little liar.' Michael said. 'Anyway. I guess I'll see you later. Much later, if I'm lucky.' Michael said, winking at Harry. Harry swallowed.
'Uhh...' he said, but before he knew it, Michael's big arms were snaking round from his back and pulling him onto the "dance floor". 'I'm not really...I can't...' Harry mumbled, but Michael leant down into his ear and whispered,
'Shhhhhh. You'll be fine.' and he began running his fingertips along Harry's body, swaying in time to the loud bass of the music. Harry gave an involuntary shiver. He cast a frantic look over at Draco, who looked to be deep in conversation with Joh, and in no way reachable. Harry decided the only way to avoid the wave of nervousness washing through his body was to ride it out, go with the flow, as the saying went. He took a few deep breaths, letting the oxygen flow into his brain, lest it fail and leave him with no idea what was going on, and turned around to face Michael, trying to force a smile onto his face. Michael wasn't that bad, really. He had nice features, good hair (must have been what turned Draco onto him, Harry thought with a mental smile) an almost dangerously nice body, and a jovial grin. Oh, and considering the way his body was slipping in, out and about the beats of the music, a fantastic dancer. Harry allowed himself to be pulled closer into him, and gasped as he was caught in a gyrating hip movement.
So what if there was a bit of animosity between Michael and Draco. It didn't really matter, right? Anyway, it wasn't as if Harry and Draco were "together", or anything like that. Draco didn't even remember what happened between them. Harry was beginning to worry that maybe he didn't remember either, and it was all just a figment of his overactive, intoxicated, wishful imagination. It wasn't going to affect anything if he danced with Michael. Hell, it wouldn't probably affect anything if he married Michael. There was nothing to affect, right? Draco would probably just laugh and mutter 'Your funeral.', right? He wouldn't care, right? There was no chance of "them", right? Not even a chance of dancing tonight. They'd probably only see each other the next morning.
Right?
o
o
o
Cliffhanger! Ish. Suspenseful music. This chapter was awfully clean, I know. Don't fret. Lots planned in the next chapter (namely most of the stuff requested ;) )! And don't worry, I'm not veering off into obscurity, this is a Harry/Draco story, and I do remember that. But you can't have the end before it finishes, you know? Please review and I'll try and put the next one up at soon as possible. If anyone wants to read it.
