At least it wasn't a decade before I added a new chapter...?

3-9-12

Chapter 2

Harry was trying to not stare at the Slytherin table at breakfast and failing. He was an idiot to have sat on the side of the table that faced the rest of the hall, why didn't he think of that before sitting down? It was too late now, if he moved he would give himself away.

Malfoy had chosen a seat directly across from him but didn't seem to have any problems ignoring Harry. It was as if there was simply a wall between the Slytherins and the rest of the school, apparently none of the other students were worthy of his attentions.

Harry couldn't help another glance up. Sure enough, Malfoy was ignoring him in favor of his own breakfast and his own mates. Did I dream the whole thing happening? Harry wasn't sure anymore. He had woken that morning to sticky sheets and memories of a bathtub encounter that hadn't been interrupted by Mrs. Norris. This, from what he remembered, was the reason the experience had been tragically cut short.

"Harry, come on." Hermione was trying to get his attention.

"Huh?"

Hermione gave him one of those disapproving looks she was so good at. "Class, Harry, it's time for History of Magic."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Harry stood up quickly. He couldn't help one last look towards the other side of the hall.

Draco Malfoy was standing as well, staring directly at him. Harry blinked. Malfoy raised a curved, thin eyebrow at him with the barest ghost of a smirk in the moment they locked eyes, then quickly turned around, heading for the doors with his cronies in his wake.

Harry tried to keep his face calm as the stare heated his bones and sent a tingle down his spine. Since when was that smirk not annoying? Suddenly every smirk Malfoy had ever sent his way had a double meaning.

History of Magic was the perfect opportunity to examine the possibilities. I dreamt the whole thing, I dreamt part of it or I didn't dream it at all. Well the last didn't make sense; he had definitely woken up to the mess. The first didn't make sense either; there was definitely a contradiction there. Mrs. Norris either had interrupted or she hadn't, there was no way both could have happened.

Which meant there was one very disturbing option; Draco Malfoy had indeed cornered him in the bathtub and instigated some very inappropriate behavior for a school prefect.

But why? Surely there was a reason he would give Harry blackmail material; no doubt if Harry went to a teacher and told that he had been molested by a prefect, Malfoy at the very least would lose his badge. You weren't molested if you kissed back, he admitted, and especially not if you were hard. He had to take a few slow, deep breaths. The memory of Draco subtlety maneuvering him into a corner was not helping him concentrate. He felt a pool of heat gathering in his groin and had to adjust his robes.

Fuck. Concentrate. Maybe it had been a dare. Maybe Malfoy was trying to play some game with him, to embarrass him in some way, or... Except, Malfoy had been affected too; Harry shivered as the memory of velvet hardness brushing against his own invaded his brain.

Fuck. This was definitely was not the perfect opportunity to examine the possibilities if he couldn't stop his body from reacting. He stared down the clock. This lesson seemed to be dragging by even longer than usual.

.

At lunch Harry made a conscious decision to sit on the correct side of the damn table, facing one row of Gryffindors and the wall. For a while it was far better to be able to just eat his food and relax without the magnetic power of Malfoy continuing to drag his eyes upward. He almost forgot how distressed he had been earlier.

Suddenly his neck prickled and he barely caught himself from turning to look behind him for whoever was staring down the back of his head. He knew exactly who it would be. He kept looking at his plate, though the hairs on his nape were rising. He could almost feel the sharp gaze lingering on his back.

It wouldn't stop. It was almost worse than breakfast. No, it was worse. Instead of being able to discreetly glance to the other side of the hall to see if he was being looked at, he could feel the look burning into him, constantly, until the bell rung. Fuck.

.

Harry had forgotten his Potions essay that was due this afternoon sitting on a table in the common room. He had to sprint up to Gryffindor tower to retrieve it and then hurtle down to the dungeons. He was breathless, jogging and only a corridor away when he heard soft laughter. He stopped and whipped his head back towards the offending noise.

Draco Malfoy had emerged from a boy's room as Harry had gone flying past.

"What's funny?" Harry snapped as he whipped around, embarrassed at being red faced and sweating and lugging his bag like it was twice as heavy as it actually was. This was not how he wanted his next meeting with Malfoy to be. Wait, how did I want it to be?

Malfoy simply shrugged and walked towards him, causing Harry to take a step back and move his wand hand closer to his pocket out of habit and cursing his reflexes. However, Malfoy's hand stayed by his side as he simply passed Harry on his way to the dungeons, perhaps slightly too close to be polite, murmuring, "Well, Potter, you're just all hot and bothered."

"Oh, very mature, Malfoy," Harry scowled, "how original."

Malfoy simply smirked over his shoulder at him and kept walking.

That smirk was starting to become a problem.

.

Harry slid into his seat and concentrated on keeping his eyes strictly to the front. How had he never noticed before that Malfoy always sat directly in his line of vision in this class? Only one row away, even all the way up at the front, was enough to be unbelievably distracting as Snape explained the instructions for today's potion.

There was a piece of Malfoy's hair that was out of place. It stuck out from his head at an odd angle, and since Malfoy's hair was always immaculately styled it kept catching Harry's eyes when the dim candlelight hit it. It was near his ear. Harry's gaze dropped to Malfoy's jaw and neck and remembered kissing and nibbling his way down…

It was almost a relief to start chopping ingredients to have an excuse to look away.

.

Harry didn't know where to sit at dinner. He had a brief moment of indecision as the options flashed back and forth. He simply couldn't imagine the burning stare on the back of his head being any less unpleasant though, and knowing he could look for at least a second at a time seemed a little better.

Malfoy came into the Hall a minute after Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat and again chose a seat directly across the Hall from him, flanked by his bodyguards. Harry pretended his plate was very interesting and he wasn't swallowing constantly in nerves. He risked a glance up and saw Malfoy, as composed as every, ignoring him again and eating. How was he so calm? Wasn't he embarrassed at what he had done? Why wasn't he reacting at all? What was his aim?

Dessert appeared and Harry grabbed a piece of treacle tart, using the movement as a cover for glancing up again. Malfoy was eating a piece of chocolate cake. With his fingers.

Harry gaped for a second before trying to act normal. Malfoy always used silverware, Harry assumed at his fancy manor house they accepted no less. Here he was, though, daintily plucking of chunks of cake with his finger and thumb. Harry's mouth watered. He couldn't tear his eyes away as Malfoy, whose attention seemed to be entirely on the cake, slid his frosting covered first finger into his mouth and sucked.

The unbidden, horrifyingly erotic image of his cock being sucked into Malfoy's mouth instead of that slim digit sprang to the front of Harry's mind. He could feel his cheeks reddening and felt his dick twitch in response. Oh gods, this was not happening, he was not fantasizing about Malfoy sucking his cock at the dinner table-

He grabbed his goblet of chilled pumpkin juice and drained it.

"Harry, mate, are you all right? You're all red," Ron noticed with a bemused look.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine, just not used to the weather. It's- er- stuffy in here," Harry muttered, trying not to babble as he loosened his tie.

Ron, mollified, went back to his pudding. Harry took a bite of tart and couldn't resist the magnetism that pulled his eyes upward.

Malfoy's finger was still in his mouth and his slate eyes were boring directly into Harry's. He ever so slowly pulled it from his lips, his cheeks remaining slightly hollowed until his finger came out with a pop. His tongue emerged to lick a remaining fleck of frosting from the corner of his mouth and darted back in. While maintaining direct eye contact, Malfoy's mouth curved up into a dirty smirk.

Harry's jaw dropped. Suddenly he couldn't look at Malfoy any more, it was too much, surely someone was going to notice this provocative display Malfoy was putting on, and notice where he was directing it. He scowled down at his tart, flustered, trying to ignore how rock hard he was.

Fuck.