Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc, as well as being the original fiction work of J. K. Rowling.

A/N: The second and penultimate chapter of Pulling Pigtails is dedicated to all those who have thus far reviewed the first; you are truly appreciated for you comments and encouragement, each and every one of you. A special dedication goes to those named below for adding the story to their favourites list:

-James's Fire;

-Kelly82;

-PandaBearGlare;

-sweetlyevel;

This was the most encouraging of all, knowing that without being finished Pulling Pigtails had such gained your favour, and thusly the below is dedicated to you four especially. Now, without further ado, I present Chapter Two...

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Chapter Two

Sleeping Lions

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"Pumpkin," Harry prompted, sighing in relief as the Fat Lady swung open, quelling the irritating giggles she had burst into upon his arrival in her sight range. Once safely ensconced in his common room, Harry shouted out to Ron and Hermione, intending to join them in their seat by the fire and wishing to first announce his arrival.

Several students looked up at his shouts, and became frozen as they took in Harry's appearance. The sudden calcified presence of their friends caused many others to look up, and soon every Gryffindor in the common room had their eyes drilling into Harry, who stood by the entrance still, looking quite terrified of the reaction he had garnered with his mere presence.

It took several moments for the ice to melt, and when the atmosphere defrosted, permitting everyone to move again, raucous laughter broke out, becoming booming in its intensity and blowing Harry back so that he stood flat against the wall, looking as though Voldemort was approaching him with an offering of flowers. Somewhere from the back of the room, a flash went off, but Harry did not register it in the face of such a reaction.

Hermione was the first one to calm down enough to speak, and choked out in a strained voice disrupted by giggles, "Harry, do you know what you are wearing?"

Harry slowly shook his head in response, glancing down at his uniform briefly, before double taking and staring in shock at the blouse and skirt he now had on under his open robes, completed with knee high white socks and girls' plimsolls. His own laughter broke out, and soon, everyone was hysterical with humour, as they realised that Harry had somehow made it to Gryffindor Tower dressed like that without noticing.

It was a full ten minutes before everyone's laughter finally trailed off, Harry still grinning as he marvelled over how he had felt a strange coldness around his legs soon after leaving Draco, but had been too distracted to really pay it much attention.

He brought one hand up to run through his hair, a habit that always kicked in when he realised that he was the centre of everyone's attention, when he felt two stubby lumps of hair protruding from either side of his hair with silk ribbons holding them in place. He burst out laughing once more, exhaling the word "Pigtails!" in such a way that the other students could sense that there was something more to Harry's strange attire than simply that it should be a girl's. They indulged his joviality with parental smiles, many of them glad to see him laughing again following the bereavement that had marred his sense of humour since before the summer.

As Hermione and Ron approached him, taking him by the elbow to the seats by the fire, Harry slowed to a deep chuckle before finally stopping laughing altogether. He sat down carefully, unsure just how much of his clothing had been transfigured and unwilling to find out by flashing the Gryffindors what might be knickers rather than boxers.

"What happened, mate?" Ron asked, his eyes dancing across the pleated skirt in question as he awaited Harry's answer.

"I don't really know," replied Harry, bemused still, yet loving the whole joke, even if it had been played on him. "I have a strong suspicion, though, and it's blond and Slytherin." He gave Ron a sly grin, but it was Hermione who read the implication first, and she smirked at him.

"That's quite an educated guess, Harry. May I ask just why Malfoy would want to dress you up as a girl?" At the word 'Malfoy', both Harry and Ron winced slightly. Ron was wincing out of habit, as he was prone to do when reminded of his family's rival; Harry winced out of remembrance that Draco was not Draco to his friends, nor was it likely that he ever would be. The seriousness of what he had involved himself in settled like concrete in his stomach, and Harry lowered his eyes to stare at his folded hands in his lap.

"Malfoy did this to you!" Ron exclaimed, ensuring the interest of the surrounding students once more with his loud voice.

"I suspect," Harry replied, a slight smile gracing his face as he raised his eyes to look at his friends once more. "But not to worry, I'm quite capable of seeking revenge!"

Both Ron and Hermione laughed at this, though Ron took it seriously and began listing ways of hexing Draco while Hermione watched with slight disapproval, pursing her lips as he suggested particularly nasty curses. Harry simply sat back and allowed their involvement to wash over him, instead focusing on the memory of Draco's smile and gradually comprehending that he had a boyfriend.

Later, as all of the boys changed for bed, Harry discovered that Draco had been very thorough indeed with his transfiguration, successfully changing Harry's red cotton boxers into a pair of green frilly knickers with a silver lacy trim. His dorm mates found this absolutely hilarious, to the extent of pointing quite obviously and commenting. Harry found that he was glad of the knickers, for they drew attention away from the two bites at his neck, one shallow and one still hidden under flecks of drying blood, and both blatantly a result of a heavy snog session. Climbing into bed, Harry wondered what Draco would make of the rumours tomorrow morning at breakfast, and contemplated just how he would get his revenge.

-x-

x-X-x

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On arriving in the Great Hall the next morning, sleepily rubbing his eyes and trailing to the table where all the Gryffindors were already seated, Harry found that his worries about rumours darting across the hall from a network of gossips did not appear to be unfounded.

Upon sitting himself in his usual seat and allowing his eyes free reign of their surroundings, Harry found that, once again, every pair of eyes in the room was settled on him. However, the Great Hall was quite a bit bigger than the Gryffindor common room, and it was consequently quite a bit more disconcerting to find yourself in everyone's focus. With a glance at the table at the head of the hall, Harry found himself breathing a sigh of relief that the teachers apparently knew nothing about what was going on.

Choosing to ignore the stares he was getting, Harry reached for a slice of toast, politely asking Hermione to pass him the butter as though he did not realise that everyone was still watching him. Hermione looked worriedly around the hall and spotted Draco Malfoy sauntering in and talking animatedly with his friends. She couldn't allow Harry to face him unprepared, and turned to whisper hurriedly to him.

"Harry," she called urgently under her breath, successfully gaining his attention. He looked at her owlishly over the top of his glasses, cocking his head to one side in curiosity.

Taking that as an indication to continue, Hermione spoke again, "Harry, everyone knows about-"

"I think I might have guessed that, Hermione," Harry interrupted shrewdly, a grin dancing across his features.

Gulping, Hermione attempted to explain. "I don't think you quite understand."

"What's not to understand? I got hexed to look like a girl, sort of, and now everyone's been told. I survived rumours before, Hermione, and this one's funny enough that even I can find it amusing."

Deciding to bite the bullet, Hermione took one long steadying breath and told him. "Harry, I think the rumours are the least of your worries. I think that what should really concern you is this," Hermione produced a small square of photo paper. "Apparently Colin had his camera last night and couldn't resist an opportunity like that."

Harry stared down in shock as he saw his photographic self standing at the portrait door, held tilted to one side and looking quite thoroughly bored. Every now and again, his hand reached down to smooth his skirt, but he seemed uninterested in the whole thing, as though he felt the photo he made up was somewhat unremarkable.

Unable to help himself, Harry burst out laughing. He had not known what to expect from Hermione's serious tone, but this photo was not it. He had been expecting bad news, and looking at himself standing comfortably in a skirt and blouse, hair battled into two pigtails tied with pink ribbon, his anxiety disappeared to be replaced with unadulterated amusement. His laughter released the Great Hall, causing the students who had stayed silent to feel free to giggle at the photo they saw and those who had stared to turn back to their meals.

On his way out of the hall after breakfast, Harry found himself face to face with Draco. My boyfriend, he thought with an excited thrill. Drawing himself up to his full height, which was still rather shorter than Draco's own height, Harry prepared himself for the onslaught that he was certain Draco would enjoy giving him, despite their new status.

Harry noticed that Draco was holding one of the photos which was circulating around the school, pinching it between two fingers and a thumb and occasionally examining it with keen eyes, comparing the image he was seeing to the boy stood in front of him.

"Do you know what, Potter?" he asked, his tone almost conversational as he grinned widely.

"I know many things, Malfoy, but something tells me that what you are about to say is something completely different." Harry spoke calmly and clearly, and a crowd began to gather around them, excited by the first exchange that the enemies had had since starting school.

Draco arched an eyebrow, as though he had not been expecting a retort. "Finally found your tongue, have you? Tell me it wasn't in the Weaslette's throat?" Draco had almost choked saying those words, but it had been worth it for Harry's expression.

Harry's face went first white, before pink splotches began to litter his cheeks. His composure was momentarily lost as he spluttered, "No! No it wasn't… in there, how-"

Draco interrupted smoothly, glad of the upper hand he was quickly gaining. "Of course it wasn't, what a question for me to ask! Considering the pictures I've seen of you this morning, it would be far more likely that you were kissing the Weasel at your left, now."

Harry turned to look at Ron before leaping back, as though burned by his friend's presence. "I don't, I mean… Ew! That's just… No, ew! Did you have to give me bloody images like that?" Harry was whining quite incessantly, and Draco was revelling in his triumph. Ron, for his part, looked as though he was torn between being as disgusted as Harry and being offended at Harry's reaction. His face being taken over by an unusual lopsided expression, he stepped out of the lime-light into the crowd circling them, removing focus from himself. Hermione wisely did the same before her name was brought up.

"Don't you think I know who did that to me?" Harry questioned, changing the subject. He gestured lazily at the picture in Draco's hand. Draco only smiled enigmatically. "I didn't know you were so keen to see me in a short skirt, Malfoy!"

Draco's smile dropped slightly, but he replied scathingly. "It wasn't really anything to do with the skirt; I was just hoping someone would finally do something with that hair of yours." The people watching swivelled their gazes to Harry, who was wearing a smile similar to Draco's. It flew even wider as he continued to speak.

"As I remember, it was your fault it was a mess last night," he replied calmly. Everyone assumed that they had simply been fighting, but Draco flushed slightly at the implication.

"It appears that I came out of it on top, though, didn't I?" Draco threw back, meaning anything that could be interpreted by that. Even the cleaner meaning; especially the cleaner meaning. He had won, after all.

"I suppose that's true, but it wasn't really a fair fight last night. You and I both know that I need lay barely a finger on you before I'd have you flat on your back and hardly breathing."

Draco's pale skin tinged pink as heat raised with those words, or more specifically, the images those words conjured. "Yeah, well, that's not how it was last night! You could barely stand by the time I'd finished with you." He hoped to distract himself, or at least throw the spotlight over to Harry while he composed himself.

"Nor could you, and I didn't really fight back," Harry spoke calmly, his eyebrow rising slightly.

"Be that as it may, I threw the last hex, and your blushing school girl routine here is the result of that." He had won; he had definitely won with that one. Nothing Harry could say would –

"If you look at the picture, I believe you will find that I'm not really blushing. Watch your back, though, Malfoy, because I'll have you blushing soon enough." And with that, Harry simply walked away. The crowd departed, disappointed that there hadn't really been a fight, their discussions turning to the possibilities of Harry's revenge. Draco stood shocked that he had somehow lost his upper-hand in that argument. He would have to ask Harry how that had happened when they were inevitably partnered in Potions just before dinner.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

His disappointed frown carefully in place, Draco slunk over to where Harry was sitting, shooting lazy glares at Snape, who seemed unaffected by them. In fact, looking back at him, the greasy hair was framing a rather ecstatic face. Draco was suddenly and inexplicitly worried by that wide grin that deflected even open hate from his favourite student and godson.

Slumping back in his chair, Draco chanced a glance at Harry. It appeared that Harry had also noticed Snape's blatant glee and was frowning in concentration as he contemplated the meaning of it. Draco saw his teeth nervously pull at the corner of his lower lip and delighted in the knowledge that he was allowed to bite that lip too. Demanding his attention avert back to Snape, Draco and the rest of the class soon found out just why that grin was in place.

"Today, we will be continuing to work on poisons and cures. One member of each partnership will make the poison; the other will make the cure. At the end of the lesson, we will test both potions on the maker of the poison and monitor the results. Obviously, we cannot do this with every pair, but I'm sure one experiment will suffice," his grinning gaze landed on Harry and Draco, and they both knew just who would be poisoned by the way Snape's eyes lingered on Harry, and his lips stretched further across his face.

"Instructions are on the board," and they were with a lazy flick of his wand. "You have one hour, you may begin."

Sighing, Harry began to set up his cauldron, lighting the fire below it manually as he used his wand to pour the required amount of water in it. He was calmly chopping the dried vegetation mentioned on the board, ignoring the blonde next to him, even when he heard an uncharacteristic snort come from him. He smirked, but otherwise refused to react to Draco, for fear of losing the upper hand he had gained at breakfast.

Draco was frowning at the instructions for the poison, recognizing them, but unsure just what they led to. He began setting up his own cauldron, but even as he prepared his own ingredients he found his eyes straying unbidden to the others set of instructions. Just what exactly did Snape intend to do to Harry? Draco snorted; whatever it was is was sure not to be pleasant. He cast a sidelong look at Harry, seeing him smirk into his potion. Draco noticed that he appeared to have finished the base of his potion, moving on to the more active ingredients. Worried, Draco quickened his pace, hoping to match that of Harry to ensure that the poison, whatever it was, would not cause him too much harm before Draco could cure him.

His own base prepared, Draco began to break up the bezoar, which was the main ingredient for many cures. Having stirred the potion until it gave off a pale blue smoke Draco allowed his attention to turn back to Harry. His potion was done, so he was ready for whatever nastiness Snape had decided to poison his boyfriend with. Merlin forbid it's anything that'll postpone our meeting tonight, Draco wondered, managing to school his features so that he did not appear overly worried.

"Potter, just how did you manage to turn our little meeting around so quickly this morning?" Draco queried, watching Harry powder the roots of an asphodel plant slowly and deliberately.

Smiling enigmatically, Harry's lips parted slowly to allow his answer to pass. Draco watched in fascination, fighting the urge to take advantage of the open lips. "I turned nothing around, Malfoy, you were never winning."

"Hmm," Draco pondered, as though absorbing this information. "Perhaps. I am wondering how much truth there is in what you said, though." Although his inflection implied a statement, it was obvious that Draco wanted an answer.

"Said what?" Harry replied shortly, sprinkling his powdered roots into the red potion, watching in satisfaction as it turned the silver described, emitting a white mist that crawled its surface restlessly.

"Why, Potter, surely even you can figure it out. I wonder if you could truly have me flat on my back, hardly breathing, by laying a finger on me." Draco purred the words, watching a slight flush rise in Harry's cheeks with the same satisfaction with which Harry had observed his potion.

"We could always test it, if you think I'm lying. Same classroom, half eleven." The bluntness of Harry's words sent a shiver down Draco's spine as he nodded his agreement.

His thoughts slowly turned back to this classroom, and he speculated whether Harry would be capable of joining him tonight. Snape's voice informed the room that there time was up, and Draco panicked suddenly. He forced his breathing to slow down, convincing it with the notion that Snape enjoyed to tease all Gryffindors, so it might not be Harry that was poisoned.

"Potter, your potion seems sufficient. Drink one goblet." Snape sneered, glaring distastefully at the perfect colour of the potion. It had been increasingly often that Harry brewed well in his classes upon his return to sixth year, and Snape found himself annoyed that he could no longer fault the boy. At least he could poison him, he consoled himself.

Meeting Snape's eyes, Harry dipped a shallow wooden cup into the liquid, raising his drink in a toast to Snape before drinking it with closed eyes, his body tensing in anticipation.

Draco watched, horrified, and his eyes darted once more to the board. What had Harry added before the asphodel? What would happen to him that Draco would have to stop? Eyes darting frantically down the list of instructions, Draco found what he was looking for. Wormwood. What poison would powdered root of asphodel create if added to an infusion of wormwood?

Dawning settled itself on Draco's shocked face as he remembered his first Potions lesson so many years ago. Snape smirked as he recognised it, his lips thinning in impressed satisfaction as Harry slumped suddenly in his chair, his goblet empty. Eyes wild, Draco span to Harry, supporting him with one arm and feeling the body heat fade rapidly. He turned to Snape who appeared perfectly relaxed.

"Good, hold him a moment. Time is unimportant so I will take this opportunity to explain the potion uninterrupted." With this, several Slytherins laughed, and even a few of those from the other two houses smiled a little. The Gryffindors, and Draco, remained stony faced.

"As many of you should have guessed, I have had you make the Draught of Living Death, a potent sleeping potion that should never be experimented with outside of controlled conditions. Potter will remain as he is now, on the edge of life, until administered with the antidote.

"Although not technically a poison, the draught is considered harmful, and can be cured, as with most poisons, with a bezoar. As he is currently catatonic, the greatest problem faced by one wishing to rouse him," here Snape sneered, as though doubting the existence of such a person, before continuing, "would be discovering a way to administer the cure. A famous example of this potion in use has been twisted in Muggle fiction. The famous story of Romeo and Juliet involves the use of this potion to fake Juliet's death. Although the legend ends in tragedy, the reality is that Romeo coated his lips in the antidote, thus waking Juliet when he kissed her."

Snape sounded disgusted at such a romantic gesture. "Rest assured that you will not be required to repeat such an action if you can think of an alternative, Mister Malfoy," Snape intoned, causing a ripple of humour across the classroom. Only Draco refrained from laughing, worrying frantically as he tried to remember how to offer a cure to someone who was unconscious.

If he spread the potion on Harry's lips, then it would be instinct to lick it off. It would take a few tries to apply enough for the full dose, but it should work. He would need help, though.

"Granger, hold Potter whilst I do this," Draco barked. Shocked at having been addressed to help, Hermione came forward and rested Harry against herself, holding him upright fairly easily as he was around her own height and weight. She did not know what shocked her most: Draco calling her by her name, and having her help him instead of a friend, or that Draco had chosen to attempt to cure Harry at all.

Everyone watched in anticipation as Draco dipped his finger cautiously into his potion, coating it in the faintly blue paste. Smearing it across Harry's already blue lips, he watched in relief as a pink tongue flicked out to remove the liquid, swallowing it automatically as Draco reached a hand forward to gently massage Harry's throat.

Snape nodded his approval of this method, but went mostly ignored as Draco applied another two coatings. Perhaps one more coating and Harry should wake up. He deliberately stroked his finger across Harry's lips, almost too worried to be fully affected by the intimacy. Suddenly, Harry's tongue darted out prematurely, curling around Draco's finger and dragging it past his lips.

Draco's eyes widened, and he almost pulled back, when he felt the gentle sucking on his digit. Biting back a moan, Draco stilled entirely, fascinated as he felt Harry's tongue smoothly explore his finger, his teeth scraping the joints lightly and drawing rapid breaths from Draco's own lips.

Eventually, Harry pulled back, leaving Draco turned on and unaware of the audience. He leaned forwards to capture Harry's lips only to find narrowed green eyes opening at him. "Don't think this makes us even, Malfoy," Harry murmured quietly, bringing Draco back to reality and the class full of eyes watching him. He sneered half-heartedly, eyes watching keenly as he saw Harry pull himself up, thank Hermione for holding him and assuring her that he could hold himself now.

The class left the room as the bell sounded, excitedly talking about the events of the lesson as they made their way to dinner.

-x-

x-X-x

-x-

It was half-eleven, and Draco had been waiting eagerly for a full fifteen minutes. He had not expected Harry to arrive early; far from it, to tell the truth. However, he had been restless in the common room, and had needed to move. He hadn't really moved now for fifteen minutes, and he was once more feeling restless. He may not be late, but Harry had better hurry up before Draco did something foolish.

He began to contemplate rushing off to Gryffindor tower and asking if he could speak with Harry. He would certainly get a reaction, and it would teach Harry to be on time next time. He had just made it to the door when it was pulled open away from his fingertips. Harry stood, framed by the low light of the corridor, looking surprised at having found Draco only a foot away. Before he had fully recovered from the shock, Harry found himself dragged inside, the door slamming shut behind him before he was thrust up against it, the handle clawing at his back even as Draco began to claw at his clothes.

Harry found himself incapable of responding to this welcome, his mouth otherwise occupied by sharp teeth and a curious tongue. Unable to respond verbally, Harry found his hands talking for him, exploring Draco now that they were finally free to do so without first consulting Harry's brain. He found himself unwilling to protest as they slid into Draco's back pockets, caressing his arse through the material and drawing a low groan from Draco that fell directly into Harry's mouth.

Ripping himself away from Harry violently, Draco glared down at the melting boy in his arms. "I have been waiting for you," he complained, his voice low and stroking Harry's lips as it whispered over them.

"I'm not late," Harry replied, panting the words. He could feel a bruise forming at the small of his back where the door handle was biting into his skin, and his lips were tingling slightly from the vehemence of Draco's onslaught. He was too distracted to think of anything else to say.

Draco laughed, feeling Harry's growing erection from his position against him, and backed away abruptly, pulling a noise of frustration from Harry with him.

Sitting on the teacher's desk, Draco stared at Harry, an eyebrow quirked. "Well?" he asked, his tone displaying that he was decidedly unimpressed with Harry's performance.

Harry was unsure what exactly he was supposed to be performing, and simply slid down the door in disappointment at the sudden loss of stimulation. "Well, what?" he snapped impatiently, sprawling his legs out to lie comfortably in front of him.

"Just how do you plan to have me flat on my back, out of breath, while only laying a finger on me?" Draco responded, watching as dawning slid onto Harry's face, pushing his frown away.

"Oh, that. Um, I have a few ideas," Harry blustered. He had not thought of this, and was a little unsure as to whether he could achieve it. Watching Draco's eyes caress his face from ten feet away strengthened his resolve.

"Eloquently put, Potter, as always," Draco snickered. He saw something mar Harry's features at his words, and became concerned.

"Perhaps you would prefer me to hex you?" Harry asked coldly, his mood swung as Draco called him Potter. He had hoped for an amount of intimacy with this relationship.

"Merlin, no! Harry, why would I have you hex me when you can make me feel the way I've been feeling all day, just by sucking my finger like that in Potions?" Draco seemed so confused by Harry's sudden change of mood that he said exactly what he was thinking without censorship. Whatever he said appeared to have done the trick, though, because Harry was suddenly grinning again.

"Really? Just how have you been feeling?" apart from torturing Draco a little with what he knew to be unintentional honesty, Harry was genuinely curious.

"I don't know exactly, but it was enough to drive me to this room fifteen minutes early when I always make a point of arriving fashionably late, and enough to make me ambush you the moment I saw you," Draco retorted, scraping together the remains of his dignity.

"So you really want to be with me?" Harry asked, and suddenly Draco's irritation with his questions was lost. Harry was still sat on the floor, his legs spread out in front of him gracelessly and his face upturned to Draco's, eyes imploring him to answer.

"Of course, Harry. This may be sudden but it's not unwanted." His tone was softened, and he waited to hear Harry's soft response. Not quite.

"Fantastic! Then I'd better get to work, hadn't I?" Harry smirked. Draco was about to protest, not understanding what Harry was talking about, when Harry leant forward, removing his outer robes and his tie before sitting back comfortably in just his shirt and trousers. He toed off his shoes and socks, stretching languidly before setting his gaze back on Draco. Draco's attention had been caught as soon as he'd started to remove clothes, and Harry realised that his taunt from earlier might be easier done than he had reckoned.

His eyes closing to block out the audience, Harry began to enjoy himself, hoping the show would be enough for Draco. Remembering Draco's comment about the events in Potions, Harry pulled his lips apart forcefully, slipping two fingers in and teasing them mercilessly with his mouth to the extent of pulling a muffled groan from himself. The other hand began to lazily unbutton his shirt, parting it to reveal the toned chest beneath. He heard a stifled sound from Draco that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed groan and inwardly congratulated himself on a clever opening.

Releasing his wet fingers, Harry trailed them down past his chin, stroking the bite he found in the joint between his throat and shoulder, slowly dragging his nails across the darkened skin that showed where Draco had broke the surface the night before. He hissed as he scratched the surface with a rough nail, moving into the sharp pressure and cursing softly. He changed his focus, pulling his nail away from the bite mark and forcing a path to his hardened nipple, keeping the pressure and leaving a hot pink track in his wake.

Circling the nipple slowly, Harry heard Draco groan his own frustration across the room. Taking this as encouragement, he took the nipple between a finger and thumb and rolled it, first gently and then hard enough to pull a cry from him. He had almost forgotten the point of this show as he other hand rested on his lap, heavy on his growing erection. Only almost though, and opening his eyes, Harry stared right at Draco, who was sat on the desk still, his eyes wide, lips parted, and erection obvious.

His chest appeared to be barely moving, and Harry would have grinned at the achievement if it hadn't seemed that such a thing might ruin the mood he had built. Slowly standing as though to refrain from frightening Draco with sudden movements, Harry allowed the shirt to slide completely off him, leaving him half-naked before his boyfriend. Too determined to feel nervous or embarrassed, Harry stepped forward, his hips moving sensually as he walked. Standing in front of Draco, who had begun to suck in shallow breaths, Harry reached out one hand.

His finger, still slightly wet from its venture in Harry's mouth, trailed down Draco's cheek before landing suddenly in the centre of his chest. Harry applied a little pressure, urging Draco to lie backwards on the desk. When Draco complied, he found the finger had moved suddenly, and flicked his eyes questioningly at the suddenly grinning face of his boyfriend.

"What are you so giddy about?" Draco asked, annoyed that he need to pant out most of the words and so did not sound nearly as threatening as he had hoped.

"My victory, Draco," Harry replied, shifting forward so that his thighs brushed against Draco's shins, which dangled off the edge of the desk.

"Your victory?" queried Draco, attempting to sit up as his confusion drowned his lust.

"You, panting, flat on your back, unwilling or unable to fight back," Harry explained, triggering realisation in Draco, and a flush.

"Well, it seems you were right," Draco rushed, as though the words were hurting him. "Do you fancy seeing what I can do to you now?" At Harry's nod, Draco set to work getting a form of revenge, transforming Harry into a puddle at his feet as he reciprocated with a show of his own with far more audience participation. By the end of the night, both boys were sated, and Draco had completely forgotten about Harry's threat of revenge for dressing him as a girl.

Harry, on the other hand, had not forgotten, but intended to take advantage of Draco's ignorance to surprise him. Smirking slightly as a plan began to form in his mind, Harry almost missed the questioning gaze Draco shot him at his unusual expression. Not wanting to give himself away, Harry diverted Draco's attention by sidling forward and whispering intimately, "Thanks for saving me, Draco."

His words were rewarded with a short, hot kiss, and when they were released again, Harry's lips formed the words, "My hero," rousing a loud bout of laughter from both boys.

The threat of being found was remembered as prowling footsteps echoed from overhead, reminding them that Filch was still patrolling. Draco sighed, suggesting that they should go to bed. Nodding, Harry pulled away, turning to the door to sneak away.

Draco grabbed his arm as he creaked the door open, pulling him back into his arms and kissing him lightly on the top of the head. Giggling slightly, Harry pecked Draco on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco," Harry called softly, disappearing through the door.

"'Night, Pigtails," Draco replied automatically, causing Harry's grin to widen almost frighteningly. Thankfully his back was to Draco as he walked away, and therefore his boyfriend was unaware as an expression of first dawning, and then glee crossed Harry's features as he realised when to play his prank.

He could not wait until the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff match that weekend.

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To be continued...

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