A/N: I HAVE CRACKED. All your awesome reviews made me want to write a second chapter. And beyond! Dedicated to CAM, though I doubt she'll ever read this? This chapter isn't as good as those to come (I hope), regrettably. I wrote it in an hour, seriously. Happy Holidays!

"Harry? Harry…? Harry! Wake up, for chrissakes!"

In the middle of a very, very pleasant dream, Harry Potter awoke with a scream. It was one of those dreams that was so deliciously perfect and lovely that a building could be burning around you and you still would wake with reluctance. And the dream had been nice. Too nice.

Harry slowly lifted his bare back from his sweaty sheets, letting the thin, cotton, white sheet fall down to cover the rest of his scarcely dressed body. His eyes immediately closed shut as they struggled to adjust to the bright sunlight, and his clammy hands moved to them to rub the sleep from the creases. Once opened, he nearly screamed as 3 sets of eyes stared back at him. There stood Ron, Seamus, and Dean, all looking puzzled, and all fully clothed. Before he could speak, Ron shifted awkwardly and said, "Well, err, gonna be late for Potions…" and walked through the dorm room's door. Dean, following suite of Ron, walked quickly behind him with a mere wave over his shoulder to Seamus and Harry.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What's up with them?" he enquired, shifting awkwardly under his sheets, oblivious as to why his roommates were acting so dodgy. Seamus, unsurprisingly, appeared as cool and uncomfortable as the rest, striding towards his bed with his head determinedly lowered, plopping down and pulling on his sneakers. "Oh, you know, don't want to be late," he said in a barley audible voice, bending down to lace each one as hastily as possible.

Harry's eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. "Seamus," he said slowly, making the boy stop in his tracks with a very strained expression. "What's the real reason?"

"Well, err, mate," he said, looking very uncomfortable. "You err, you see, had… a wet dream."

Harry nearly laughed. 6 years with these boys and they were skittish of that? "Are… you serious? Mate, last night everyone heard you screaming and thrashing around screaming Partavi's name…" Harry trailed off, chuckling, relived to know that his friends weren't disgruntled for a more serious issue.

Seamus, on the contrary, looked quite unamused. Strained expression still in place, he seemed happy to finally have had all of his belongings gathered and standing at the door. He paused. "Well… it's just that… none of us have ever had a wet dream about a bloke, have we?" He stopped, still not meeting Harry's eyes. "And Malfoy, of all people..."

Before Harry could say anything (though it was likely that he wouldn't have anyways), he was out of the room, shutting the door with a semi-slam.

Harry, needless to say, was completely mortified. For one, it had taken so long for the boys friendships to grow that they could feel totally comfortable around each other, wet dreams or not, but being caught having one about another man? That was an entirely different problem by itself. He closed his eyes, groaned, and sank slowly back into bed. For about 30 seconds he considered lying there all day and never having to confront any of them, but that idea was quickly swept away when he remembered the other reason why they were so quick to leave the room: Potions.

Or, rather, Snape.

Snape, on his own, was bad enough. He was reputationally rude, unkind, and domineering. But to Harry Potter? He lived to see Harry humiliated.

So, this inevitably sped Harry up. He threw the sticky, sweaty sheets from his body, running to the dorm's bathrooms and jumping in the shower stall as quickly as possible. A very quick shower couldn't hurt, could it?

When Draco Malfoy was in the shower, he generally tried not to think about Harry Potter.

Thinking of Harry Potter not only would give him a woodie that would absolutely refuse to go away unless serviced was not an altogether bad thing, but it was the fact that it would keep him in the shower for an extra 5 or 10 minutes. And when he was running late for Potions (though punctuality was something Professor Snape cared less about for Draco than any other student in the class) he still cared to be on time for his absolute favorite class. And not because Snape kissed his ass, either.

Potions, God knows why, is a class that Slytherins and Gryffendors shared together, which is essentially the reason why Draco was in such a hurry to get there now. Though on the whole he despised Gryffendors and their overall "Gryffendorian" pride bullshit, there was one in particular that made it worth while. And exactly whom was forcing himself into his mind right now...

"Fuck," Draco spat, as if scolding his own penis, sighing and staring down at his half erect cock. He sighed, and decided finally that being just a tad bit late to Potions couldn't do too much harm, could it?

Officially late for Potions, Harry couldn't have cared less about the big group of tiny first year girls he had knocked down because of his wreckless running.

...Or the slightly larger group of second year boys he had torn right through, or the shamelessly snogging couple in the middle of the hallway that he had broken up, or even the poor, gray, tabby cat that he had practically kicked two feet in the air, and fuck, he was loosing count of the people he was knocking down now.

The dream that had made him sleep in late, which had caused him to be slightly late, had now caused him to be extremely late, if that made any sense. In short, images of Draco's hot, toned, pale body sprawled out over Harry's own tanned, lanky body commanded his thoughts, and before he knew it, he had blew his load all over the place for the second time that morning.

Which was obviously the reason why he was now sprinting down the hallway at top speed, running into all those poor students and injuring innocent animals.

When he rounded another corner where he met the last flight of stairs that would lead him to the dungeon, he was panting and gasping for air like he had been running far longer than he had. He could nearly see the Potions door and began to run faster, mind racing with a thousand different possible excuses to use on the Potions master. He was closer now, and his mind was almost entirely focused on the door that lay less than 10 yards away when almost out of nowhere, WHAM.

"FUCK," he nearly shouted, grabbing his head, obviously having run into something.

Or, rather, someone, looking just as disheveled and tired as he did, and almost as out of breath as he was. His vision was slightly blurred from the sudden collision of their heads that he couldn't fully process the face or much less anything, but there was no mistaking as to who it was when they spoke.

"You should really watch where you're going, Potter..."

It was the rich, deep, manly and just altogether... sexy. Though it didn't sound angry, as it would've under normal circumstances, and it wasn't teasing, as it also would've been under normal circumstances. But Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy fucking were most certainly not normal circumstances. And Draco Malfoy reaching forward and grabbing Harry Potter by the back of his head and kissing him deeply, stealing what breath he had left in what could've been plain view of anyone, was most definitely not normal.

But that sure as hell was not stopping Harry Potter.

And so, as he regained his composure (and breath), he kissed Malfoy back as deep as he possibly could, dragging him into the dungeon hallway of which he had emerged, slamming him into the stone wall as rough as he could manage and feeling his cock grow hard at a record pace. Which was soon followed by Draco, which Harry saw as his cue to free a hand from behind Draco's head and shove it forcefully down the front of his pants. Malfoy shortly followed suite, things moving much quicker than they would on a normal night that they did such things. If you could even call those normal. As both of their hands struggled to jerk the opposite dick off, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of last night when they were both just as rushed, jerking each other off as fast as they possibly could, and he mentally told himself that he would make a greater effort to see him earlier tonight.

Both sets of lips went unkissed as the two boys could feel both of their orgasms coming and their hands sped up as if jerking their own selves off, speeding up exactly when the other boy needed it as if they shared brains. And in perfect unison, they both cried out as they came all over the other boys' hands, moaning softer and slower as the hands moved softer and slower until they both eventually stopped. They relaxed, Draco leaning back into the wall and Harry into Draco, panting until they both decided that they should finally go into potions.

Walking the 10 or so feet to the classroom, neither spoke. Though they couldn't tell, they were unavoidably becoming closer and closer, and doing things at the exact same time, even if they didn't know it. And not just jerking each other off, either. Barley realizing how it would look coming into Potions all sweaty and mussed, they both walked in almost trance-like, jumping simultaneously when Professor Snape snapped at them, "Potter! Draco!" He rounded on them. "Are you aware, that there are barley 10 minutes left in this class?" Neither had ever seen him so angry before. They both opened their mouths together, stuttering before spitting out a lame excuse, "Sorry sir, won't happen again." They glanced almost puzzled at each other.

"I will see to it that it doesn't!" he hissed at the two of them, who stared back utterly nonplused. "You two will meet here at 6 P.M. sharp, detention."

And at that moment, the lovers were no doubt thinking the same exact thing, and just how many, many ways they could make detention enjoyable…