Reviews please?

Draco tried and failed to hold back a smirk as Potter hurried out of the Hall, his confused friends following behind a little bit later. He picked up his fork and finished his cake in a rather more civilized manner.

It had been a random impulse to try the frosting with his fingers that had quickly become something more as he saw the heated glances and embarrassed blush creeping up onto Potter's cheeks. There was something so deliciously satisfying about making Potter blush, making him lose control and sweat in the palm of Draco's hand, that he just couldn't resist any opportunities to do it again. That pink tinge across his cheekbones was addicting. Of course he couldn't stop once he had started.

Walking into that bathroom and seeing Potter sprawled out, sleeping in the bathtub, alone, naked, and vulnerable had been rather enlightening. Instead of the urge to drown Potter (as he had expected) had come the urge to embarrass him, not even to get him into trouble. After Potter had inconveniently woken up before he had decided on the best course of action, he had gone on instinct. Before he knew it, his instincts had taken over and the urge to tease the Gryffindor in a different manner than usual had become overwhelming. He hadn't expected to become so… interested. That smooth chest, his dark hair dripping wet and even messier than usual, just made Potter look like he'd had a good shag and it had surprised Draco to feel his cock twitching in interest at the thought of Potter fucking or being fucked. The kissing had not been planned, but afterwards, Draco had admitted to himself that he had wanted it, wanted Potter, of all the ridiculous people to grow up and suddenly be attractive.

His constant hatred of Potter throughout the years had stemmed more from rejection than anything else. People were not allowed to reject a Malfoy, but Potter had apparently not known this and had done it anyway. Draco's furious anger lasted long enough to hide his growing need to make Potter take notice of him, whatever necessary. It had not occurred to him before now that there was more than one way of getting Potter's attention, and certainly not exactly like this.

The bathroom had been perfect, Draco reflected. Nobody around had been around, expecting them to fight, because that's just what Potter and Malfoy did. They had started it between just themselves, in the beginning, but plenty of their mutual animosity was directed towards each other's friends and family. In the bathroom there was none of that. Just two curious, naked boys.

The memory of those impulsive kisses and the unexpected way Potter had reacted heated Draco's bones to the core and he fought for control over his body. Malfoys did not get aroused during dinner. Except, here he was, fantasizing over cornering Potter in that bathtub again, this time grabbing his hair, biting and tonguing his neck, roughing him up and making him scream.

He wanted more than the brief brush of erections and a few stolen kisses. He had gotten a taste of Harry Potter the Golden Boy and now he would not be sated until he had all of him, whimpering, begging Draco for more and coming. The images of fucking Harry Potter rushing into his brain were overpowering and now Draco knew he must have what he wanted at all costs.

There must be some way to get Potter alone again, preferably without the risk of being caught.

He took a deep breath. Think.

.

A flutter of noise startled Harry as he almost nodded off over his Potions textbook. A small, intricately folded piece of parchment had swooped past his ear and landed next to his hand on the table in the library. He looked around quickly, but nobody was anywhere near him or paying him the least bit of mind.

He looked down at it. It was a cross between a tiny envelope and a Muggle paper plane and had a single letter on the outside, P.

He picked it up and unfolded it clumsily, trying to keep the parchment from tearing. A single word was written on the inside. There was no signature. Harry flipped it over, searching every millimeter of parchment, but there was only the thinly slanted, scrawled word.

Tonight?