And finally, the long awaited Chapter 5! Harry and Draco share a little alone time in the Hospital Wing. You know what that means ;)

Sorry for torturing everyone with the long wait.

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Draco handed over the vile of green medicine. The moment Potter grasped it Draco yanked his hand back as if he had been burnt. Potter glanced at him over the rim of the glass for a moment, pinning Draco to the spot with his eyes. Those damn, penetrating eyes. Potter then closed them, snorted indignantly, and knocked the drink back in one gulp, sputtering at the foul taste. Draco took his chance and quickly shifted under the covers of his bed without a word. He rolled on his side so his back was to Potter.

'He won't get a rise out of me this time!' Draco huffed to himself as he closed his eyes. For a few long seconds there was silence. Sun filtered through the painted, glass windows and warmed the cold stone of the infirmary. Draco heard owls hoot in the distance and soft laughter from passing students. He actually started to get used to the idea of a nap. Then suddenly, something stiff, made out of cotton fabric, smacked Draco in the face much harder than necessary.

Draco sat up slowly, his body quivering and teeth clenched as he tried to hold back all the harsh obscenities he so desperately wished to scream. He looked at his lap and saw a pair of faded, blue striped pajamas. They looked very worn and old. They were the kind of old that even if you had just washed them, they would dry into a crusty, wrinkled mess as soon as you took your eyes off them. Draco absentmindedly wondered where the school's budget was going. Couldn't they afford a new set of clothes every century at least?

"What's this for Po-Aaahg!?"

Draco yelped as he looked up at Harry who was now sporting nothing but his boxers and glasses. Potter glanced over his shoulder at Draco before turning around to face him full on, his hands on his hips. Harry opened his mouth and spoke in a drawling and belittling tone.

"Well we're obviously going to be here for a while. Madame Pomfrey would have us do this anyway. Wouldn't you rather do it while she's not around?" This was perfectly logical and under normal circumstances Draco would have complied without a second thought. However, he was a little distracted, to say the least. Potter's boxers seemed a tad too tight and were clinging in all the right places.

'Wrong! I meant wrong places!' Draco thought furiously as he ripped his eyes away from Potter. 'This is ridiculous! It's nothing I haven't seen before! Hell, I've got my own, and it's probably bigger anyhow!' Then, in spite of himself, Draco peeked over just to be sure. He stifled a surprised gasp. Draco had to admit, it was an impressive bulge. Although one couldn't be completely sure unless you saw it fully erect-

'Merlin's beard! Don't go there, Draco, don't go there!' He bit his lip, turned around, and began to dress on the other side of the bed. He shed his clothes awkwardly, clumsily fumbling where he wouldn't typically. After undoing his tie, getting his shirt off was easy. Draco had just started with his pants when Potter sighed impatiently.

"These damned things are so uncomfortable. I'm so used to sleeping naked, but that would give Madame Pomfrey quite a surprise." Draco coughed noisily.

"Bloody hell, Potter! I'm not a therapist! Keep your personal issues to yourself!" Draco turned to glare at Potter, his zipper only half way down.

"Don't be so sensitive, Malfoy," Harry said with a smile. "You could probably to with a little nude nap yourself. It's strange at first, but once you stop over thinking things you start to enjoy the freeing feeling of it!"

Draco's mouth hung open in astonishment. Since when did Harry Potter ever tell Draco Malfoy anything that private? Not to mention, the thought of Potter sleeping naked was doing strange things to Draco's head.

'Do all of the Gryffindors sleep naked?' Draco pondered, a blush rising to his cheeks. 'I don't care if they're all boys. That's not normal!' Draco could almost see all of them lounging around on they're four-poster beds: undressed and unapologetic.

'That's disgusting!' Draco thought irately. He couldn't think of anything more disturbing. Yet… his brain seemed happy to supply Draco with more images. He shook his head from side to side, trying to loosen the thoughts from his mind. 'A nap sounds pretty good right about now. A nice, completely normal, fully clothed, dreamless sleep.' Draco turned his attention back to his pants. He tugged on the zipper, but it stuck. He fumbled for a few more moments, but his fingers would only move awkwardly and slip on the tiny, metal piece. He tried again and again, but his fingertips felt raw from rubbing against the sharp edges. Draco gritted his teeth and tried to tug it loose. The stubborn thing stayed put, though. Enraged he wiped out his wand.

"Damn zipper!" Draco shouted as he lifted his wand high.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry shouted, leaning over the bed to catch Draco's wrist mid cast. "Let's not be hasty! What if you missed that shot?" Draco huffed at Potter, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows wrinkled. The last thing he wanted was any of Potter's advice. But then common sense reared its ugly head. Draco glanced down at where he was about to cast and realized Potter was right.

"Whatever," Draco snapped, yanking his wrist away from Potter, "I'll handle it myself." Draco turned away from Harry and hunched over slightly, trying to focus solely on the zipper, willing it to move. He felt his back muscles knot in frustration.

'This is just perfect! First, muggle classes, then Potter's sudden ability to get under my skin, not to mention Weasley's anger issues and now this! Everything seems to be going wrong all at once! Is it because the Malfoys have had it too good for too long? Is God finally exacting revenge on my rich, prosperous family by sending scar face to torment me?! I absolutely cannot stand this!!! And why the hell is Potter looking out for my family jewels anyway?!' Draco paused at this thought for a moment, a fiery blush rising to his cheeks, 'Oh whatever! It's none of his damn business anyway!' The more Draco thought, the more infuriated he felt. He steadily worked himself into an internal tantrum, the zipper all the while slipping through his pale fingers. It was then that Harry felt he should interject.

"You know," Potter started slowly, as if he were tasting each word, "Being raised as a muggle, I didn't have any magic to rely on when it came to everyday problems. Especially when it came to my hand-me-down wardrobe. The Dursleys never helped me fix up a button or a tear in my clothes… I had to learn how to do that all by myself."

"GET TO THE POINT, POTTER!" Draco screamed suddenly, his rage peaking, whirling around to face a startled Harry. Draco stomped around the bed until he was right in front of him, ranting while he went. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR SOB STORIES BECAUSE NO ONE LOVED YOU AS A CHILD! I DON'T CARE IF YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME EITHER! BUT IF ALL YOU'RE GOING TO DO IS STAND THERE AND PESTER ME UNTIL I SLIT MY WRISTS AND HANG MYSELF, THEN YOU CAN JUST LEAVE! I'M SO NOT IN THE MOOD FOR ANY OF THIS!!!" Draco heaved a huge breath when he was finished and stood there panting and quivering, trying to catch his breath. He watched Potter with crazed eyes, waiting for his response. After a moment of silence, Potter removed his now foggy glasses and wiped them on the shirt he was still neglecting to put on. He put them back on and cleared his throat.

"Actually, I was going to offer you some help with your zipper, but I can see that you're in that I'm-a-huge-prick mood, so I'll just leave you alone." Potter turned away from Draco and sighed uninterestedly before he began to fold his school clothes, still ignoring the pajama top.

Draco gaped at Potter's back in disbelief. Then, Blaise's words rang in his ears:

"You don't have to be a prick all the time, you know."

Draco gritted his teeth together. He was officially pissed. 'Why the hell does everyone think I'm a bloody prick?!' Then Draco's head started reminding him of incident upon incident where his standoffish and generally cruel nature might have earned him the title of King Prat. He blushed sheepishly while remembering.

'Alright, so what? It's not like I actually care what Potter thinks.' As Draco thought that, however, his eyes were drawn to Potter's tan back, watching his shoulder blades glide under soft skin as he folded his pants. The longer he watched, the more Draco knew he was about to do something he would probably hate himself for later. He let out a loud, grudging sigh.

"Fine, Potter. You can have a go at it if you want." Draco watched Potter still for a moment before turning around with a borderline evil smirk.

"I knew you'd say that," Harry remarked as he moved closer to Draco, "No one says no to Harry Potter." Instinctively, Draco backed up, bumping the bed, causing the metal frame to groan.

"H-hey! Don't help me if you're just trying to show off!"

"Too late to refuse, Malfoy," Harry said with a devilish grin. With no room left to back away, Draco had to stand obediently and wait, which was much harder for him than your average wizard. Draco's eyes flitted around the room trying to find a place to focus on while Potter moved into his personal space. First the ceiling, then the walls, then the other beds, his feet, Potter's ebony hair, his faint lightning bolt scar, his green eyes, his rosy lips, his neck, his taut chest muscles, his perfectly mouthwatering abs that looked like God himself had sculpted them with his own hands, and the little track of hair that lead down to his-

"Like what you see, Malfoy?' Potter asked in a superior tone. Draco's eyes snapped up in a flustered way, but instead of seeing a smirk, Draco saw Potter looking back at him with dark eyes. Harry looked down quickly and lifted his hand before Draco could say a word.

"Lets get started," he murmured quietly. Then, Potter abruptly slipped his index and middle finger into the waist of Draco's pants.

"H-h-hey, Potter!? What are you doing!? I thought you were trying to help my with my zipper?!!" Draco squeaked and jumped at Potter's slightly cooler temperature.

"I was just checking to see if you could slip them off as they are… but these things a practically glued to your hips. No wiggle room," Potter said, wriggling his fingers across Draco's hipbone. Draco jolted and his heart flew into his throat.

"J-just because my family can afford clothes that fit…" Draco trailed off as his throat became unbearably dry. He tried not to look up, but watching Potter's hands seemed to be just as bad. Not uncomfortable, but… something else that Draco knew was much worse.

Potter slowly slipped his fingers out of Draco's trousers and then moved them until they were right above the zipper. He glanced up at Draco once, as if to ask permission. Draco simply nodded. Without any more hesitation, Harry pulled the split in Draco's pants together and tried to work the zipper back up. Harry let out a warm breath and Draco became painfully aware of the fact that he was shirtless. The warm gust of air ghosted over Draco's torso and his ab muscles tightened. Potter tugged on the zipper trying to loosen it. The fabric and his fingers brushed against Draco and he let out a muffled noise. Potter didn't hear it though and he continued to work the zipper.

Tug, tug. A hot sigh across Draco's stomach. Fabric shifting. Potter's fingers brushing Draco's skin. For what seemed like forever, that was all Draco was aware of. All he could think about.

Tug.

Brush.

Sigh.

Shift.

Thick swallow from Draco.

Tug.

Sigh.

Brush.

Yank.

Hard breath from Draco.

Yank.

Shift.

Stifled moan from Draco.

Zip.

Draco looked down in surprise and saw that Harry had managed to pull the zipper back up. Then slowly, he pulled it back down, but ran into the same catch again. Draco let out the breath he didn't even know he had been holding.

"It's hopeless!" Draco cried exasperatedly, letting his hands hang limply at his sides, trying his best to ignore his thundering heart.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch, Malfoy," Potter sighed impatiently. "I've almost got it." Then Potter straitened his back a little and cracked his shoulders before hunching back over. Draco looked down and watched as Potter shimmied the zipper up again. Harry slipped his fingers deeper down Draco's pants until the back of his hand was pressed flush against Draco's member. Draco bit his lip and tried to think of anything else.

'Muggle studies. Crabbe. Goyle. McGonagall. Snape. Dumbledore! Dumbledore in his gym shorts!' Draco's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He wasn't sure what Potter was doing any more but if he kept on like this, Draco was sure he would start to care a lot less. Harry didn't seem to notice that the young Malfoy was spontaneously combusting. He just kept moving his hand more and more. Rubbing. Shifting. Friction. So much friction!

"P-potter," Draco panted in a high voice, unable to hold back as he grabbed hold of Harry's shoulders.

"Hang on, Malfoy, I've almost got it," Harry said persistently, thinking that Draco was trying to push him away. He leaned against Draco's hold and jerked the zipper.

"Uuuh, Potter," Draco groaned, gripping Harry harder, his palms becoming sweaty.

"Knock it of, Malfoy. You're not helping! It's just about…" Potter trailed off and twisted the zipper around roughly.

"Damn it, Potter, would you just-"

"Got it!" Harry exclaimed, the zipper finally obeying and slipping down the rest of the way. Potter moved out of Draco's grasp and held up a black piece of string. "See, it was a piece of thread that was caught in the…" Potter's gaze suddenly slipped down Draco's body and he abruptly ended his sentence.

Draco felt his lungs shrivel up and his throat turn to dust as he watched Potter's eyes widen as he stared down. Down at Draco's very alive and very awake trouser snake. Instead of covering himself up, all Draco could mange to do was look up at Potter and then down at himself, unable to comprehend the reality of things.

'I'm hard,' Draco though, stating the obvious to himself, 'I'm hard and… Potter. Potter's here. Right in front of me and… he was the one who… Potter was… he did this. I'm hard and Potter was the one who…'

For a moment everything was silent. Draco's brain seemed to fold in on itself. It was being sucked further and further in, like a black hole had appeared in Draco's skull. Then, all of a sudden, everything exploded.

'OH MY GOD! HOLY FUCKING MERLIN! My life is over, over, over! Oh my god, oh my god!'

Draco flew into a complete panic. He grabbed his pajama pants and yanked them on, trying not to look at Potter. Looking at anything else but him. Draco yanked on his shirt and fumbled with the buttons. Tiny buttons that were suddenly to small for his awkward fingers. When he finally had the shirt on he couldn't bare it any longer. He had to look at Potter, just so he could see his expression. To see how screwed he was. He looked up cautiously and saw Potter looking straight into his eyes.

Draco flinched but didn't look away. He couldn't. He could only watch Harry stare at him. It seemed to take days, weeks, years for Potter to say something.

"Oh," he said simply. Then a crooked smile slid slowly across his lips. Draco felt the blood drain to his feet. Draco tried to think of something confident to say, but the look on Potter's face confused him too much.

"L-look, Potter. Don't let this go to your head," Draco stammered, trying to put a serious edge in his words. "This has absolutely nothing to do with you. I was thinking of something completely different!" Draco watched Harry nod slowly, a scheming, smug sneer still twisting across his lips. Draco broke eye contact and shifted onto the bed to camouflage his embarrassing arousal before continuing. "We have an understanding then, right Potter? This little incident didn't happen, all right? Did. Not. Happen." Draco laced his fingers together and let them lie conveniently on his lap. On the inside he felt as though he were sitting on pins and needles. Nervous sweat beaded on the back of his neck. Draco wondered what Potter would say.

'Will he agree with me? Will we go on like this never happened? Or will he avoid me? Or… Oh Merlin, what if he tells people?! Weasley will probably be the first one he'll confide in and then… Damn, then Weasley will probably come for me! Then after he beats me an inch from death he'll tell his father and his father will tell the Ministry and then… MY FATHER WILL FIND OUT! No, no, no, no, no! That cannot happen! He'll kill me! He'll torture me and then kill me! Serve me up to Voldemort on a silver platter!' Draco's eyes bored into the floor as he pictured his gruesome future. He was sure that the only peace that awaited him was death. He was so concerned with his own thoughts that when Potter spoke again, he jumped.

"Calm down, Malfoy. You look like you're going to faint," Harry said with a chuckle, stepping closer. Draco gaped up at him, unable to say a word. "You can relax," Harry said, stopping at the edge of Draco's bed, "I'm not going to breath a word about this." Draco heaved a huge breathe.

"Yes, yes," Draco said, more to himself than to Potter, "that's good."

"But," Harry said in a sly tone, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, "You are wrong about a few things." Draco looked up at Potter and was petrified by the devilish look in his eyes. "I think that your little... problem," Harry paused to gesture at Draco's lower half, "has everything to do with me." Draco's mouth hung open as he tried to protest. Harry, however, didn't give Draco the chance to say anything. Potter placed his hand on Draco's pale knee and began moving his thumb slowly. Draco let out a squeak only dogs could hear.

"In fact," Potter said, inching his hand up Draco's leg, "I bet your thoughts weren't as different as you would like me to think. Am I right?" Harry leaned closer, his warm breath tickling Draco's nose, his chest brushing against Draco's pale arm, and his fingers moving slowly upward.

As Draco stared into those dark green, mischievous eyes, each sensation hitting him all at once, he felt his hand twitch. He wanted so desperately to twist his fingers in Potter's hair, pull him close and-

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy! What are you doing out of bed!?" Madame Pomfrey shouted as she burst through the door. Draco actually jumped a foot off the bed, but he was the only one. Potter flashed an easy smile at the witch nurse.

"Sorry, Madame Pomfrey. Draco was just helping me with my pajamas. I was feeling a bit woozy you see." Harry stood slowly and wobbled to his bed. He eased himself onto the thin mattress and covered himself up, looking every bit like a sick patient. Draco's jaw hit the floor as he watched Madame Pomfrey hustle around the shelves and bring Potter a glass of pumpkin juice and fluffing his pillows. She shot a glare at Draco.

"What are you still doing out of bed?! Cover up and get some sleep!" Draco wanted to know where his glass of pumpkin juice was, but he smartly shut his mouth. He yanked his covers up and took one last, disdainful glance at Potter.

"Thank you for your help, Malfoy," Harry said weakly, coughing slightly. Madame Pomfrey smiled down at him before turning away and returning to her cabinets. The moment she was gone, Potter's face morphed into a look so evil, it rivaled Draco's father's glares. The only difference was the very pleased, ear to ear smile.

"Thank you so much," Harry murmured deeply with a chuckle before rolling away, his back to Draco.

The young Malfoy was stunned. He never would have guessed that Gryffindor's poster boy was more manipulative than Draco himself was. Draco felt a shiver vibrate down his spine. If Potter turned out to be pure evil, then nothing in his future would be certain.

...

What fate could possibly await Draco in the near future? You'll have to wait for chapter 6!

Please R&R and Enjoy :)