Disclaimer: JKR owns all HP characters and settings etc. They are not my dollies, I simply stole them and played with them for a short while. Only the plot belongs to me.
Rated: M for language and some sexual situations.
Warnings: There will be slash/ malexmale/ yaoi/ whatever you want to call it. Basically, if you are a homophobe, I don't advise reading this story. Also, for some, there may be unbearable amounts of fluffy relationship stuff that may induce vomiting and/or blindness. Have a nice day.

Post-DH but NOT epilogue compliant. There may be some spoilers.

Hehehehe... Don't kill Ron after reading this btw ;) Those boys will get their dreams coming true... *cough cough*

The month of November was relatively uneventful at Hogwarts. With the exception of some rather disturbing dreams coming to the surface of his unconscious, Harry found nothing out of the ordinary going on in his life. He was plagued by dreams of Draco and himself, often in compromising positions and indulging in activities Harry had little experience of, but was reluctant to give up. How his mind managed to conjure enough of these images to have him waking each morning with a certain appendage begging for the attention of his hand, Harry did not know. And why Draco was the other participant in these night-time fantasy activities, Harry also could not fathom without venturing into the deeply confusing territory he had hidden in his mind. Perhaps one of the reasons behind these dreams was that during the past couple of weeks, he had often awoken in the middle of the night to hear the blond moaning softly in his sleep. And Harry doubted it was the kind of moan that escaped his own lips while he was having a nightmare.

Regardless of whatever strange dreams his subconscious was playing out in his mind while he was asleep, Harry and Draco spent increasing amounts of their waking free time together; faithfully playing three hours worth of Seeker's Only Quidditch every Saturday morning. Harry enjoyed these times, but was slightly unnerved whenever he caught Draco staring at him with an odd expression on his face, which was surprisingly frequently. It also worried him that during these times, his own dreams would come back to him with vivid clarity as he took in Draco's perfect features, and the boys would be lost, staring at each other for a few moments before one of them broke out of their hormone-induced stupor. He also found it increasingly difficult to concentrate in class whenever Draco was in his direct line of vision. His brain seemed to take him down a path that lead straight into one of his dreams whenever he caught sight of that blond head during a particularly boring lesson.

During one crisp Saturday morning at the beginning of December, as they were walking down to the grounds to play their weekly game, Draco reached out and starting absentmindedly playing with a particularly unruly section of Harry's hair. It took all of Harry's focus to keep his knees from buckling as those warm fingers rolled the ends of his hair between their tips and gently brushed his scalp, sending shivers down his spine.

"Harry… How on earth does your hair get so messy? You don't even shag frequently, so you have no excuse."

Harry blinked, his brain trying to string a coherent sentence together in reply. "Well… Uhhh… We- we can't all be perfect sex-gods like you, Draco." Fabulous. Absolutely stunning. Perfect comeback. Not. Harry could feel his face burning as the full meaning of his stuttered sentence reached his brain. Had he really just called Draco a sex-god? He looked around for a nice, convenient hole in the ground to swallow him up.

Draco smirked as he withdrew his hand. "Careful Harry. I might think you're trying to hit on me."

Harry blushed, but grinned, able to think clearly now Draco had removed those warm fingers and stopped caressing his scalp. "Well, as much as I know you want me," He glanced at Draco and his grin widened as their eyes met, "You wish."

They both laughed and continued the charade into the air as they searched for the small golden ball they had released into the sky.

Fifteen minutes into their third round of the morning, Draco suddenly came speeding towards Harry; arm outstretched. His eyes widened, but before he could do anything, the blond had stopped in front of him, hovering slightly higher than Harry on his broom, his fingers closed around the snitch above Harry's right ear and a smirk plastered across his elegant features. He leaned closer, their faces inches apart, and whispered, "Remind you of a particular game in our second year, Harry?" His voice was low and hushed, the words dripping out of the mouth Harry dreamed whispered to him and gave him pleasure in the most sinful of ways, were laden with seductive promises and hidden desires.

Harry blinked, his lips slightly parted in a vague attempt to begin a retort, but he was captivated by the hooded grey pools of Draco's eyes which were swirling with an unmistakable lust that he knew was portrayed in his own closing eyes, their mouths drifting closer and closer together with each long, slow second that passed. He could feel Draco's breath on the corner of his mouth, almost taste his lips as they moved ever closer to his own tingling, slightly trembling ones, as he tilted his chin up in anticipation.

A shout echoed from far below them and Harry jumped back, startled by the loud voice as Draco looked down at the intruder guiltily.

"HARRY!" It was Ron, waving up at him enthusiastically, gesturing for him to come down. Harry landed expertly beside the redhead, Draco landing a few seconds later, several feet away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink, and Harry knew his own face was burning as he fought to control his racing heart beat.

"Fancy a some Quidditch practice?" Harry relaxed. Ron hadn't seen them. He didn't fancy having to explain something like this to his best friend when he didn't understand himself just yet.

"Oh, err… I was just finishing up with Draco…" He threw the blond a confused and guilty look and found his blush deepened as the other gazed back with the same expression, "But, umm… Sure." He mounted his broom again as Ron took off. "I'll err… I'll see you later I guess?"

Draco nodded silently and stalked off with his own broom towards the castle.

Moments later, Harry was back in the sky on his broom as he flew up to meet Ron in the air.

"Harry mate, what was that about?"

Harry looked at Ron, "What was all what about?" He asked confusedly, hoping Ron wasn't getting at what he thought he was getting at.

"You and Malfoy. Up here. Getting very close. Was he threatening you?" Ron looked angry.

"Oh, err… No. He was just umm… Looking at my glasses! Yeah, he thought he saw a crack in them, but there wasn't anything there. He was just making sure…" Harry rambled on.

Ron looked sceptical and he didn't blame him. His brain had turned to mush and not recovered since his brief, almost-encounter with Draco.

"It was nothing, really. If he starts up again, which I doubt, I'll hold him down and I'll let you take the first punch." He grinned, hoping to distract Ron from the awkward situation he had found Harry and Draco in, and indulging in a short-lived day-dream in which he was indeed, holding the blond down, although with distinctly less clothing than he was sure Ron was imagining them to be wearing.

The redhead laughed and they began to practice, although Harry failed miserably at everything he tried to do, with his attention focused elsewhere.