Chapter VIII
Reaching the fourth door to the left of Boris the Bewildered, Draco spoke the password and slipped through the door. Harry had to beak into a jog to catch the door before it closed, and he felt another flush rise to his cheeks. Draco never failed to make him feel horribly inept. Stepping into the bathroom, Harry turned towards the large tub. This time of night the room was deserted, save for him and Draco, but even if the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had been in the room Harry's eyes would still have been unable to focus on anything but the Slytherin.
Draco carelessly tossed his robe down on the stone benches that lined the walls. Stepping out of his slippers he began unbuttoning his shirt. Again not even turning around to see if Harry had followed, he nodded towards the many faucets that ringed the tub. "Stop standing there like you've been petrified and make yourself useful."
Harry's jaw clenched, he wasn't some house elf that Draco could just order around. And yet on the heels of that thought came the bitter knowledge that while no, he wasn't a house elf, he was just as eager to please the Slytherin. Spine rigid as his pride fought a losing battle he did as Draco bid, and moved around the room turning on which ever facet caught his fancy. Before he made it back around the room the tub was more than half full, and rose coloured steam licked at the edges of the tub.
Glancing back at Draco, Harry frowned. The Slytherin's left forearm was wrapped in a white bandage, a rather large one. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, a sliver of suspicion working it's way into his thoughts, but before he could say anything Draco loosened the tie on his pants and let them fall to the floor.
Harry's mouth snapped shut and his mind blanked. He had never seen Draco naked before, had imagined it, but his fantasies had not done justice to the alabaster body gleaming in front of him. An overwhelming sense of longing swept through him, and he had the bizarre urge to drop to his knees in front of Draco. Not to take the blonde boy in his mouth, but to just kneel before him and submit to his will.
Fighting the unfamiliar desire, Harry's hands clenched to fists at his sides, and he stood mute, unable to pull his gaze away from Draco's muscled form.