Chapter Thirteen: Creeping Heat
Last Year
Harry swallowed hard past the lump in his throat as he walked through rows of ceiling-high bookshelves. He'd spent his fair share of time in the library - honestly, he didn't have much choice with Hermione as one of his best friends - but this had to be the most excited he'd ever been about it.
Turning into the second to last row, Harry bit his lip to forestall a stupid grin.
Cedric was already at their usual study table, nose buried in a dusty tome, sandy hair falling down to obscure his face. Harry took a step forward, but tripped on the untied laces of his trainers, knocking right into the table and startling Cedric out of his concentration.
Immediately, Harry felt his cheeks heat, and he hoped the lighting was dim enough to obscure the blush on his dark complexion. Cedric, however, didn't react at all to Harry's blush or his sudden, clumsy appearance. Instead, he smiled dazzlingly and pulled out a chair, silently inviting him to sit.
Harry obliged.
"Hey," he greeted rather lamely.
"Hi, Harry," Cedric's grey eyes crinkled at the edges, "Did you find any other books that might be helpful?"
"Er, yeah I did. Or, well, Hermione did, but - here."
Harry quickly dumped the contents of his bag onto the table, resulting in a disheveled pile of books, crumpled parchment, and even bits of rubbish. He quickly snatched the rubbish and parchment up, shoving them back in his bag, before spreading the books out in a much more orderly fashion.
Cedric picked up Offensive Defense Spells and started flipping through it with interest.
"This is great! I think these will come in really useful!"
He looked up and placed his hand on Harry's knee before saying in a low voice, "Thank you."
Harry swallowed, tentatively covering Cedric's hand with his own. Immediately, the Hufflepuff threaded his fingers through Harry's, rubbing small circles with his thumb.
Harry shrugged, trying to ignore his racing heart.
"S'nothing," he dismissed, "Hermione's the one who… I just want to help. Not like I can do much, being two whole years behind you."
"Nonsense," Cedric said, "You being two years younger makes everything you've accomplished that much more impressive. Besides," he leaned in closer, "I wouldn't be nearly as prepared for the Third Task without your help. If it weren't for everyone finding out about us, I'd tell the whole school how brilliant I think you are."
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably.
"Ced… I-"
But Cedric was so close, and still leaning in, and Harry's words died before his tongue could form them. His tongue, he decided, had better things to do.
He eagerly closed the distance between them, kissing him soundly on the mouth. Cedric smiled, letting out a small, happy moan.
Harry's stomach fell out at the sound, and he hastily reached a hand up to cup Cedric's face, feeling his strong jawline flex beneath his fingers as he deepened the kiss.
All logic fled from him, leaving only his stuttering heartbeat and Cedric. His hands, his lips, his tongue flitting out to brush Harry's - he was so wrapped up that he almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching.
Abruptly, Harry pulled away, wide eyes scanning for the newcomer moments before they appeared in the alcove.
"Harry, there you are!" Hermione exclaimed, stopping short when she saw that her friend wasn't alone.
"Uh, hi," Harry said, nervously flattening his fringe. He peeked at Cedric from the corner of his eye, and was surprised to see him calmly smiling at Hermione as if he hadn't just been snogging someone in a dark corner of the library.
Harry tried to imitate Cedric's same placid nonchalance, but his breaths were still coming fast and he had a feeling he wasn't quite as convincing.
Hermione looked Harry up and down, eyes lingering on his glasses, which were very recently smudged.
"What-?"
"It's Granger, right? Hermione Granger?" Cedric interjected, standing and holding out his hand, "I believe we met briefly on our way to the Quidditch World Cup over the summer."
Hermione shook his hand awkwardly, glancing between him and Harry. "Yes, that's right."
"Potter told me he has you to thank for finding all of these," he continued, gesturing to the table covered in books.
"Y-yes, I was just trying to help however I can."
Cedric gave her a charming smile, "Well, then I suppose I should be thanking you as well. He's been kind enough to recommend I read some of these so neither of us gets killed in that maze."
"Oh. Well, that's… thoughtful of you, Harry."
Hermione turned her attention back to the brunette, who was hastily trying to clean his glasses.
"Yeah, well, Ced-ric helped me out a bit with the egg clue, so… Th-thanks again for your help finding these books, 'Mione. They're brilliant."
Harry's praise must have been enough to distract her, because she shrugged and dropped her critical gaze.
"You're welcome - anyway, Harry, I wanted to warn you before Malfoy has a chance to be a complete git about it: Rita Skeeter has written another article about you."
Both boys tensed.
"Oh, Merlin, what now?" Asked Harry, pointedly not looking at Cedric, who began to gather his things.
"I'll let you have some privacy. Thanks again, Potter."
"Er, anytime, Ce-Diggory. See you around."
And with a parting smile, Cedric left.
His robes had barely disappeared when Hermione sat down at the table.
Casually, she said, "I'd have thought you wouldn't want to help Diggory with the Tournament. He's your competition, after all, isn't he?"
"Well, like I said, he gave me a hint for the second task. You know, for the egg clue."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "But didn't he give you that hint because you'd tipped him off about the dragons?"
"Sorry, what's that you said about another Rita Skeeter article?"
Hermione sighed, seeming resigned, and produced a rolled-up copy of The Daily Prophet.
"Just wait 'til you see the rubbish she's spouting now…"
"You are improving, Potter, even if you don't recognize it," Malfoy said, helping him to his feet, "Your mental shield has gotten much stronger. The problem is you're easily distracted. The second you lose focus, you let your defenses down."
Harry chuckled nervously. "Well, it's only a bit distracting knowing that you're trying to have a look in my head, Malfoy."
Scoffing, Malfoy replied, "Better me than my godfather."
Harry's features darkened. "He's - well, he's the worst, but it's still not exactly risk-free with you, either."
"Oh? What are you afraid of me seeing?" Malfoy asked innocently.
Harry stammered.
Chuckling, Malfoy continued, "Calm down, Potter, I'm only messing with you. No man wants all his thoughts rifled through, especially not by his former enemy."
Relieved that he didn't have to invent a reasonable excuse for his discomfort, Harry snorted rather loudly at the comment.
"Oh come on, Malfoy, you were never actually threatening enough to be my enemy, and you're certainly not my enemy now."
"Focus, Potter!" he said with a begrudging smile, "You need to block out everything else around you - including your overactive and unamusing sarcasm. Let your mind be filled with nothing. If you must, focus on something neutral and boring."
Harry took a deep breath.
"Good," Malfoy observed, "That's it. Legilimens."
Nothing happened. Malfoy smiled, lifting his spell after a few moments.
"Well done. What were you focusing on?"
Harry opened his eyes, smiling triumphantly.
"My wand."
Malfoy raised a brow. "Spend a lot of time thinking about your wand, do you?"
Harry blushed at the innuendo.
"It was the most boring thing I could think of!" He defended.
Malfoy actually laughed.
"Is that so? Your wand is nothing to write home about, then?"
Harry could feel the heat creeping up his neck.
"Can we just - knock it off, Malfoy!"
The blond was obviously trying to get himself back under control, but was having difficulty.
"Blimey, there's no way I can clear my thoughts at this rate, thanks to you," Harry grumbled irritably, "How about we switch to Patronuses?"
At those words, Malfoy was quickly able to compose himself. Actually, he looked quite stoic all of a sudden.
"Oh come off it," Harry groaned, seeing his mask for what it was: reluctance.
"What?" demanded Malfoy.
Harry rolled his eyes. "So that's it, then? It gets a little challenging, and you're ready to just throw in the towel?"
Malfoy squared his shoulders. "Don't try to call my pride into this. I won't be baited like that."
"All right," Harry shrugged, calling his bluff, "Whatever you say."
After a moment of silence, the Slytherin ploughed onwards, "Besides, it's more than just a little challenging. We've been working at this for over a week and I haven't been able to manage more than a wisp. I'm beginning to think I…."
"You what?"
"I'm... just not sure if I'm made for all this happy memory business."
Harry paused, feeling a rush of sympathy for the man. He understood exactly. It often seemed as if there was far more bad than good in his life, and he expected Malfoy felt the same.
"Maybe… maybe you just need something to clear your mind."
"Haven't we been doing that already with the Occlumency?" Malfoy asked sardonically.
"Yes, yes, you're very clever. I meant, why don't we take a break from everything and duel each other instead? It's been a while since we've practiced, and it might help to do something more familiar. Something you know you're good at."
"Even though you're still better at it than I am?"
"Now you're just being all brooding on purpose. Come on, up we go, you moody prat."
Malfoy shot him a glare, but stood and faced off with Harry anyways.
As much as Draco hated to admit it, duelling Potter was actually helping him break out of his moodiness. He even lasted much longer than usual. Eventually, though, the effort of trying to keep up with Potter began to get the best of him. Sweating, he successfully dodged a body-bind curse, but left just enough of an opening for the other wizard to hit him with a stunner.
Moments later, Draco opened his eyes to find Potter smiling down at him triumphantly.
Well, that just wouldn't do.
Draco stood, brushing himself off and giving the man a half-hearted glare.
He would wipe the pompous look off of his pretty face. He just needed a slight advantage. A distraction maybe?
An idea came to him.
He'd thoroughly enjoyed how flustered Potter had gotten earlier when he'd teased him about his wand… What if he took it up a notch? How would Potter react?
Smirking, he couldn't resist dramatically undoing the clasp to his robes and letting them fall to the floor. He loosened his tie and removed it as well, then began unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate motions.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter gulp. Chancing it, he glanced up through his fringe and was pleased to see the man staring fixedly.
Draco looked away, reveling in the attention.
"Erm… Malfoy? What are you doing?"
Draco had just undone his last button. He paused and gave the man a look that plainly said, Isn't it obvious?
Potter only cleared his throat.
"It's hot," Draco replied simply, and then he removed the shirt with a flourish, taking the time to fold it carefully. He bent to pick up his discarded robes and tie, making sure to face directly away from Potter, and folded them alongside his shirt.
By the time he resumed his stance, signaling that he was ready to continue with their dueling, Potter's dark complexion had an unmistakably rosy tint to it.
Draco couldn't help the sly smile that crept onto his face. He knew that he was fit, especially with a sheen of sweat covering his torso. He'd never been overly muscular, but instead had aimed for a toned, lithe physique. Apparently, that was Potter's type.
"I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?" Draco said with a small, knowing smile.
"You wish, Malfoy," he retorted, but his voice held slightly less conviction than usual.
"Well, then," Draco continued, giving a small bow and saluting the flustered man with his wand, "Shall we?"
"Uh, yeah."
Potter saluted back, moving into position.
This time, when they counted down, Draco took the offensive. He threw jinx after jinx, and Potter only barely got his shield up in time. He managed to retaliate with a few spells of his own, but none of them hit their target.
Draco's smirk grew.
"You're off your game, Potter. Something distracting you?" He taunted playfully.
Potter had to roll out of the way of the next spell, and when he stopped -
"Expelliarmus!"
The holly wand landed in Draco's outstretched hand, and he grinned triumphantly.
Panting, Potter got to his feet.
"That's not fair! You distracted me on purpose!"
Adopting an innocent look, Draco asked, "On purpose? However was I doing that?"
"With the - I mean, you - unbuttoning - urgh!"
Exasperated, Potter made a grab for his wand. Draco raised his hand high, just managing to keep the wand out of reach, being slightly taller.
With a frustrated sort of growl, Potter lunged at him, knocking him onto one of the cushions and pinning him there, one knee on either side of his thighs.
Draco strained against him, laughing and stretching the arm that clutched the holly wand as far away as possible.
Potter's neck was exposed as he craned his body, smiling impishly and grabbing at Draco's hand.
In that second, Draco was momentarily struck by his beauty. Potter's dark skin was highlighted by the candles that lit the room, brightening the column of his throat, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his full lips.
All Draco had to do was lift his head a bit…
Too close, he told himself admonishingly, but for some reason he couldn't seem to make himself move away.
Perhaps it was because Draco hadn't ever thought he'd be allowed this close to him. Perhaps it was because of the knowledge that they cared about each other, unclear though it was. Perhaps it was because of the memory he'd seen the first time they practiced Occlumency - which still made Draco's insides flip with curiosity and nerves - of them under the mistletoe at Christmas.
Potter, oblivious as usual, wriggled further up his body, still trying to grasp at the stolen wand.
Draco was suddenly very aware of his writhing movements. He froze, not knowing how to extract himself from the situation - not fully wanting to. As soon as he stiffened, Potter also seemed to realize where, exactly, he was: on the ground, straddling the shirtless Slytherin.
With his arm now motionlessly outstretched towards his wand, he slowly looked down and met Draco's gaze just below him.
Draco kept waiting for him to glance away, to break eye contact, but it didn't happen.
They both seemed to be transfixed, as if surprised to find themselves so close to each other, noses almost touching.
With shocking impulsivity, Potter leaned down - and pressed his lips to Draco's.
Fire exploded in his chest, spreading a dizzying warmth down his limbs, filling him. Mind hazy, his only conscious thought was, closer. He reached forwards instinctively to place his hand on the back of Potter's neck, but in his haste, he dropped the stolen wand to the ground with a clatter.
The disruptive sound sent a jolt through Potter, breaking whatever spell he had been under.
He pulled away, tensed, bright green eyes locked on blue-grey. He seemed bewildered, as if he'd only just registered what he'd done.
Draco's mind, on the other hand, was still overloaded from the kiss. All of his typically organized thoughts, in their carefully categorized filing cabinets, had erupted forth in such a thunderous flurry that he couldn't comprehend anything aside from the fact that he had been kissing Harry Potter. He'd dreamed about it for longer than he cared to admit, but never thought his dreams would be realized. And so, when Potter pulled away, Draco found he was quite unwilling to stop kissing him.
Even as the one still-functioning part of his brain screamed about danger, he felt himself lifting up onto an elbow to close the distance between them once more.
He kissed him feverishly. Desperately. Potter remained still for a frighteningly long moment… and then he smiled against Draco's mouth, responding with eagerness and passion that rivaled his own.
Draco took advantage of this, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a groan. He wrapped an arm around the wizard, pulling him close as Potter threaded fingers through his hair.
The fire that had spread to Draco's limbs was quickly drawn to the pit of his stomach, simmering and radiating down. A second part of his brain became functional again, alerting him that he needed to disengage before his reaction became too obvious… but Potter was sucking on his bottom lip and making a hypnotizing, sensual sound, and he simply couldn't move away. The fire continued to build, stoked by his every touch.
After a while, Potter pulled back to stare at him with wide, green eyes.
Draco's brain jump-started to life once more. He stiffly leaned back on his elbows, bracing himself. Any moment now, Potter would remember who he was. The son of a Death Eater. His former enemy. A childhood bully. He would tear away from him, scream at him, hex him -
But Potter smiled. He cleared his throat, his expression sunny and his eyes alight.
"Have you, erm… Have you been wanting to do that as long as I have, Malfoy?" he asked.
He looked so hopeful, so vulnerable. So fucking beautiful.
Draco only managed a one word response.
"Longer."
At this, Potter grinned, and Draco was finally able to drown out the paranoid voice mumbling about danger in the back of his head.
Potter reached to pick his fallen wand off the floor, the movement of his hips unintentionally causing Draco to stifle a groan.
He managed to grumble, "Are you trying to kill me, Potter?"
Potter threw his head back laughing, then leant down again to cover Draco's lips with his own. After a few more hazy minutes, Draco pulled away. He needed a reprieve if he wasn't going to embarrass himself thoroughly.
He leaned back on his elbow, body turned towards Potter, who had rolled off of him and settled by his side.
The two shared a slightly nervous smile.
Potter broke eye contact, suddenly anxious as he peered at the clock on the far wall.
"What time is it?"
Draco winced, "Late. We should have returned to our dormitories ages ago."
"Shit, Hermione's going to kill me if I get caught out of bed after curfew."
He turned back to Draco. Reluctantly, and a bit awkwardly, he said, "We… we should go."
Draco cleared his throat.
"You go first. I'll wait a few minutes, just in case."
Potter nodded, getting to his feet and taking out his Map.
Draco busied himself by tidying the cushions, which were in thorough disarray.
"Looks like my way back to Gryffindor Tower is clear. You shouldn't have any problems either, as long as you don't wait too long after I go."
Draco stepped beside him, looking over his shoulder. Filch and Mrs. Norris were on the second floor, and it appeared that all of the Prefects were back in their beds. With Peeves bouncing around the Transfiguration classroom, it looked like they wouldn't have any trouble returning to their respective Common Rooms.
He glanced at Potter out of the corner of his eye, and found the man's gaze locked on his own.
"So, uh…" the Gryffindor began rather timidly, "See you tomorrow, then?"
Draco felt one side of his lips curve slightly.
Potter's eyes flicked down. It was a familiar motion that Draco had seen many times, but he had never been sure exactly what he was looking at.
My lips?
Draco experimentally took his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking slightly before letting it slide out again, slowly.
Potter followed the motion as if hypnotized.
Draco couldn't resist the gloating smile that stole across his face.
With a start, Potter's eyes widened and he said something that might have been a protest, but Draco leaned forward before he could make a sound.
"Tomorrow," he whispered before kissing him once more.
"Goodnight, Draco," Potter said.
When Draco was alone in the Room of Requirement, where no one else could see, he let a huge, genuine grin overtake him.
He laughed aloud.
He was practically giddy.
Reliving the memory over and over in his head - Potter's weight against him, eager lips moving against his, the dizziness throughout his body - Draco raised his wand.
He smiled as he spoke the words.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A jet of light blasted from his wand, and to his mild surprise, it solidified into the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
A doe. A pure, brilliant doe cantered around the room.
She slowed, coming to stand directly in front of him, staring at him with beautiful, bright eyes.
Potter had been right.
Draco had just needed a stronger memory. One without fear or anger or doubt.
Just pure happiness.