A/N: I- I'm so- I don't know what to say! I'm very very sorry? Is that good enough? I really was thinking about all of you, and what you would think of my not!writing, but I was busy! I had exams, you know! But worry not, school is over now! Yeah! Summer is fanfiction season. I thank all of you one THOUSANDFOLD for your reviews, all of them Too Kind! This chapter is really short, but it's okay, because I'm going to be able to write stuff really fast now! Summer, remember? It's kind of different, this chapter. Hardly any dialogue and no notes. It's very…erm…well, please like it.
DISCLAIMER: How many times do I have to tell you? It's not bloody mine!
Chapter Eight"Just for that, Malfoy, I'm going to make you work with Potter for today's lesson."
"But Professor, I —"
"Potter! Get your things and move over here."
Draco hid his self-content smirk expertly from Snape as he turned toward the class again and Harry very slowly began packing his bag to move next to him. Who knew making such a fool of old Severus would work so perfectly in his favour? Well, Draco knew, of course. But, well, who else would know how to piss off the professor so nicely? Who else would know exactly how he would try to punish Draco? Nobody. At least nobody Draco could think of. Maybe Dumbledore would know something like that, because he knows everything. But still, Draco remained the most suave, savvy, and street-smart sex god of Slytherin ever to grace these hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Pretty much.
They were making a warmth potion today. Of course, Draco could make it if he was drunk and had his hands tied behind his back (not unheard of, for him), because it was cold down there in the Slytherin part of the castle, and rather than hinder himself with all those clothes, he could use the potion. He was just that clever. Harry, however, would never bother to think of such practical things as potions, and not to mention, was rubbish at them. So when Snape finished his spirit-crushing rambling and told them to get to work, they began in silence (embarrassed on Harry's part, amused on Draco's), with Draco taking it upon himself to do anything above the ability level of a first year.
Draco looked up from his work to make sure the class had stopped staring. They had all been watching as Snape had 'condemned' him to Harry; the Gryffindors in pity of Harry, the Slytherins in just plain amusement at Draco's predicament. Yeah, Slytherins were like that. But hey — he'd done it to himself, hadn't he?
The room was thick with fumes that smelled of pure heat. The smell of sticky pavement on a hot day in the city, the smell of a pulsing nightclub filled with wet bodies, the smell of no air conditioning. Many people were flushed already, and Draco noticed that Granger's hair looked about three times bigger, if that was possible.
His attention was turned back to his partner(/target) when the dark-haired boy grunted in frustration. He was having an issue cutting up some knarled roots. Draco smiled a little at Harry's red cheeks and knitted brows. He squealed like a little girl inside when he saw the boy blow some air straight up to momentarily lift his fringe. Draco gently pressed into Harry to get him to move, and Harry took perhaps slightly longer than he needed to, frozen with shock and maybe something else. He took the knife from his hand and proceeded to cut up the damn things then, as Harry watched in silence. They still hadn't spoken.
Draco finished cutting up the roots and he handed the knife back to Harry, making sure to let their hands touch as much as possible.
And Harry noticed.
And Draco noticed Harry noticing.
And Draco smirked at Harry.
And Harry blushed.
Harry wondered if Draco was just playing with him. He was a quivering mass of shaky, sweaty indecision. He was ready to collapse at Draco's feet and beg him to tell him what was going on. How was it that he could play such games with him, make Harry love him, and then just stand there in front of him, smirking? How was it that this didn't make Harry angry? He just wanted Something! Something more than the subtle innuendo of arse touching arse, which was what Draco was doing just now…Harry wished he didn't like it so much. But he did. He wished Draco would stop licking his lips. He wished Draco would wipe off that drop of saline sweat sliding oh so slowly down his slender white throat and towards the neck of his shirt. But he wouldn't.
Harry wanted to get out of that hot, sweaty room. Or for everyone else but himself and Draco to get out. Harry wanted Draco to say something. Something helpful. Something that made him feel slightly less like a toy. Something that made him feel like he had a little more control over the situation. But Draco liked control. Draco liked that he could control his own feelings for Harry so much more easily than Harry could. He liked that every time he caught Harry's eye, the boy squirmed. It was delightful. The tension was as thick as the fumes from the potions, and Draco was drunk off of both of them. He felt safe under the cover of the smoggy dungeon room, and he felt confident. It was like Harry's confidence all fell out when he was near Draco these days, and Draco could just pick it up and throw it back at him, pelting him with it.
Draco felt empowered, like nothing he did would be unreasonable just now. He edged his way closer and closer to Harry, somehow managing to still look like he was working on the potion. Harry was getting shaky. He was looking all over the room to see if anyone could see whatever it was Draco was going to do. They could. And they were. There were already a few confused faces turned towards the supposed enemies, their figureheads, their heroes, their houses embodied; polar opposites. Polar opposites weren't supposed to be so close to each other. Draco knew they were watching. They were always watching. He was pressed tight against Harry by now, his left leg pinning Harry's right into the table in front of him. He tilted his head toward Harry's, over his shoulder. He put his lips right next to Harry's ear, the space between the two positively tingling, and he whispered into it.
"I got your note."
Harry shivered in the heat. He turned his head, a little surprised at just how close he found Draco there, and peered intently into his grey eyes. They were so close. They both stopped moving for a moment, except it seemed like they were both moving so much, to each other. Eyes positively digging into each other, tiny glistening beads of sweat crawling down their skin, slight tremors of their bodies easily felt, as they were pressed against each other. Draco wondered how it was they'd gotten so close. Harry wondered how it was he hadn't pulled away yet. Other people in the room wondered what the fuck was going on.
The bell rang.
A/N: Short, I know. But uh, it was good, right? Please tell me it was. I'll try to hurry for the next chapter if you do. Ha. You know that I thrive off of your praise and feedback. You know that the only reason I breathe is because I might be breathing in air that once filled your lungs. You know that my heart beats only for you. I love you. Please love me too.