A/N: Part 4/5. I swear, this is the last time I'm extending the end of this. Stupid characters, having their own opinions… Sorry it took so long to write this. Real life has been absolute hell for a few months—see my profile if you want details. I did not abandon this or any other fic.

Once again, thanks for the reviews. Even with everything, knowing you all like my work kept me determined to continue this. Enjoy!

Our Story So Far: Draco follows a distraught and slightly crazed Harry, unaware that he's been dared to snog him! What will happen with the two boys alone in a secluded corridor?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Taking the Dare
Chapter 4

It was a dream. It had to be. Clearly, he'd knocked himself out when he'd hit his head on the wall, because there was just no way that Draco was really standing there before him, hair mussed and cheeks turning slightly pink. And even if Draco really was there, he'd never have such a strange look in his eyes.

Almost like he likes me.

Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that this was a dream, probably caused by a concussion. Hermione would be so proud of how I figured that out.

Taking his logic a step further, Harry reasoned that in a dream, his actions didn't count. So when Draco held out a hand to help him to his feet, Harry took it.

He didn't—couldn't—let it go.

So soft, so warm, and I was right—he does smell good up close.

He wanted to get closer to Draco, and this was a dream, so that was fine. Never looking away from grey eyes, afraid of blinking and waking up, Harry swayed closer, breathing in the spicy scent of the other boy's cologne. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, drowning out the ever-present buzz but not quite enough to hide a hitch in Draco's breath.

"Ha—Potter…"

Draco's voice was a low, husky whisper, and the sound of it caressing Harry's name was more than he could take.

It's a dream, it's just a dream…

The words ran through his head over and over as Harry shoved Draco firmly against the opposite wall, claiming the soft, sweet lips that had taunted him for days. And when Draco's lips parted in surprise, Harry deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, finally tasting Draco and it was fine because this was just a dream.

Clearly a good dream, because Draco's hands were tangling in Harry's hair, pulling him closer, and Draco was melding against him so they fit tight together, and it felt so good it was almost frightening, but it was a dream so there was no reason to try to stop. His heart was racing, beating so fast he thought it would burst from his chest, and the buzzing in his head was slowly fading, replaced by the feel of Draco pressed against him.

Just a dream…

xxxxx

Well. This certainly wasn't what I had in mind.

Dozens of possible reactions raced through Draco's head when Harry shoved him against the wall, only to vanish the next moment as their lips met. It was electric. And when Harry's tongue slipped into his mouth, he was swept up in the tastes and scents and sensations of the other boy, and all Draco could do was try to press just a little bit closer.

Chocolate from dessert lingered in Harry's mouth, overwhelmingly sweet and dark. Draco buried his hands in dark hair; so much softer—and wet, why is it? Oh, right. Longbottom.—than he'd have guessed, and pulled Harry towards him, trying to capture more of the rich flavor that blended into the clean, fresh taste of pure Harry.

Harry's hands were trailing down his sides and he shouldn't feel them so clearly through his robes, but that didn't matter because they were settling on his hips and pulling him closer to Harry. And it didn't matter that he was kissing Harry in a corridor that anyone could come through at any moment, because he was kissing Harry and really, who knew Harry could kiss so well?

Draco thrust his hips slightly towards the other boy, anxiously seeking friction and making the most un-Malfoyish whimpers deep in his throat. Harry moaned and broke away from their kiss, his head falling on Draco's shoulder as they rocked their hips together, mindless of their surroundings.

Until the shriek.

xxxxx

Hermione stormed through the halls. She'd just finished giving Ron an ear-blistering lecture—the same one she'd give Harry just as soon as his problem was solved—on the perils of not coming to her for help immediately.

Really, those boys…

Although, to be fair, it wasn't Ron's fault that Harry had hidden how bad it had gotten. And it wasn't Ron's fault that Harry was so deep in denial of his feelings for Malfoy—how he can like that loathsome little… Even if he is incredibly handsome, his personality… Oh, really! Boys!—that he was causing the compulsion charm the twins invented to go haywire. It wasn't Harry's fault, either, and even if it were he was more than paying for it. And of course she'd help them, now that she had all the information.

But if they'd just come to me in the first place, I'd probably have fixed it by now! At the very least, I'd be two days further along in researching a cure!

So, really, it was their fault after all. And she had every right to be annoyed.

She was thinking about where Harry could have run off to when she rounded a corner and found him. Pushing Malfoy against a wall. And definitely not fighting.

She shrieked. Then regretted it, because it revealed her presence and made Malfoy shove Harry away. Only, Harry didn't seem to be cooperating. And blushes really didn't suit Malfoy. Sighing, Hermione approached the two boys, and tugged Harry gently.

He turned to her, green eyes clouded with confusion and—nope, not thinking about Harry being aroused with Malfoy. Not at all.

"Mione? What are you in my dream for? Ron's the one who dreams about you…"

Harry's voice trailed off, leaving her blushing and Malfoy looking irritated. Before she could answer, Malfoy broke in.

"A dream? You think this is a dream?"

"It has to be. I can't kiss you if it's not a dream." Harry sounded heartbreakingly earnest.

Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed. Hermione shot him a quick glare and his mouth snapped shut.

"Harry, you're not dreaming."

His eyes widened. In a small, frightened voice he whispered, "I'm not?"

Silently, she shook her head. He turned desperate eyes on Malfoy, of all people, for confirmation. For once in his life, Malfoy acted decently and just shook his head.

For a long moment, all three stood frozen. Then Harry took a step back, and another, his eyes wide and panicked. Then he turned and fled. Sending one last glare at Malfoy, Hermione followed.

xxxxx

Harry ran blindly for the Gryffindor dorms, gasping out the password and almost slamming into the painting in his haste. Ignoring the startled faces around him, he dashed up the stairs to his dorm and dove under Neville's bed.

There! Now no one will find me! A slightly hysterical giggle escaped him before he clapped his hand over his mouth. Must stay silent. Can't let them find me… Who's them? Doesn't matter, just have to hide…

For the first time, Harry noticed that his head was silent, his thoughts clear, and his skin wasn't crawling. He could still taste Draco on his lips, his tongue… His body still tingled from pressing against the boy who'd been the focus of his fantasies for—okay, admit it. Far longer than I've been dealing with that dare. He didn't exactly try to stop me, though… Mm. Active participant, I think. 'S good.

And he was tired. The past few days had been exhausting, and he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the whole thing started. In fact… he was safe, hidden, and warm. A quick drying spell and his school robe made a decent pillow, and he curled up happily to dream of Draco—without Hermione interrupting them.

xxxxx

Neville Longbottom was having a very odd evening. First, Ron deliberately made him spill pumpkin juice all over Harry, and Harry ran out of the Great Hall, completely forgetting that he could use magic to clean his robes. Of course, that could have something to do with that night they'd all gotten drunk. Wish I could remember what had happened.

Then, he'd run into Seamus and Dean on his way back to the common room. Well, that wasn't so strange. Them being half-naked behind the statue of Wendolyn Harpyhunter was, though. That and them inviting me to join them. He didn't really care that they were… whatever together, but he just wasn't into that.

So he'd gone and hidden in his bed, pulling the curtains closed and working on his Charms homework. And that's when the third odd thing happened. Harry came racing into the dorm, and dove under his bed! His! As if he doesn't have his own bed to hide under… Maybe I just imagined it.

He leaned carefully over and peered under his bed. Yup, Harry was there, curled up and fast asleep with a peaceful look on his face. Made for a nice change from the increasingly distressed boy of the past few days.

And he hasn't really been sleeping well lately. Neville sighed. Oh, well. So long as Harry's happy, I guess he's safe enough there.

Arranging his blankets to hide the sleeping boy a little better, just in case someone came in, Neville turned back to his book and lost himself in the intricate wand movements for tomorrow's test.