Author's Note: Hello again everyone! I won't apologize for the long wait, because this chapter happens to be my absolute favourite. But I will apologize to those who are squicked out by slash – because this chapter HAS slash in it. But I won't apologize for having it, because it's necessary to my story! So I'm warning you now – there IS slash. But I would also like to point out that this IS a Draco/Hermione story. I swear they will end up together. Please don't question me on how they get there at this point, or any point, because they WILL. By the way – if you haven't noticed, I don't exactly follow along with the events in the book. As you can see, Dumbledore is still alive, Malfoy and Snape are still at Hogwarts…and Fred and George are actually semi-teachers ;).

So yes, HERE is my story. It's a bit longer (YES!) so I hope you enjoy it. It's not as long as it SHOULD have been, but CERTAIN me to cut it in half, so they could read it. Anyway!

Special shout outs to my (slowly growing!) reviewers:

Jeni-Tall: Special thanks to YOU for encouraging me to start this up again! I can never thank you enough, as I'm really enjoying it ). Thanks for ALL your support! You are my fanfiction kindred!

Evil-is-Sxxy13 : I'm so glad you think so! Please stick with me, I promise there's a lot more to come!

iluv2dance: Thanks for all your kind works! I hope you enjoy this update!

Inner Self: Yes, Harry is gay! But it's all part and parcel with where I'm going D. Please don't let this bother you; hopefully you shall stick with me!

Willow: Thanks! Please continue to read on!

Brandi: I REALLY appreciate you saying that! I put a lot of work into this, and I really hope everyone can enjoy it with me!

And my newest reviewer – Kayla Incredible: I always love writing sensitive!Harry because overdramatic/obnoxious/thickheaded Harrys are definitely not my cup of tea. Surprisingly enough, I prefer my Ron more sensitive too – but more clueless, as that is his role in this story. I can promise you that this will DEFINITELY be a Draco/Hermione story. I do apologize if you're uncomfortable about the slash…there's only blatant slash in this chapter…brief mentions of it in other places…and perhaps maybe one more special scene that comes from the twist I've been building on D! And yes, I rather enjoyed that comment too. There's one that I specifically like in this chapter – perhaps you shall spot it? About George's feelings…I really don't want to give away anything, but hopefully this chapter shall make things a bit clearer! Thanks for reviewing!

And now…on with the show!

Chapter 5: Much Ado About Harry

Around one minute, 23 seconds and two curiously piercing loud howls from the staff table later, Hermione blinked and stared around the Great Hall, her senses slowly returning, and her body temperature cooling considerably. The memories of her kiss with Harry, Malfoy and Ron ran through her mind in bright disturbing flashes, causing her cheeks to blush with embarrassment as though everyone in the room could read her thoughts. She glanced to her right and saw Ron looking at her with glazed eyes, and then looked to her left and saw Harry looking at her as though he was waiting for something to happen.

Most students in the Great Hall were staring up at the staff table with something akin to fear written across their faces as Fred and George were beside themselves in uproarious laughter. They were clutching their sides and each other's shoulders to prevent themselves from toppling over onto the ground. Their eyes were shut tightly, tears slowly running down their faces, their laughter coming out in short bursts of air, as they looked as if they were gasping for breath. Everyone seemed to be entirely clueless as to what the twins had found so amusing and wondered why it prevented them from containing their decorum in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

Hermione, who had been momentarily thrown by the onset of memories, her rationality hitting her like a violent punch that knocked the wind right out of her, slowly moved her head towards the staff table, lifting her eyes to rest upon the laughing twins. Her face was blank as she gazed at them. Suddenly, her mind cleared and her eyes lit with anger, and narrowed dangerously. Her clenched fists hit the table as she stood up heatedly, her face as intent and menacing as anyone in the hall had ever seen her.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!" she shouted, and the scream echoed around the hall ominously. The professors at the staff table were purposefully ignoring the situation, as they all assumed that the twins had gone too far with one of their pranks. Dumbledore was turned to McGonagall, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-mooned spectacles.

Almost immediately after Hermione's scream, the twins stopped laughing, the amusement in their eyes replaced with fear.

"Just WAIT until I tell your MOTHER what you've DONE!"

"You can't!" shrieked Fred and George simultaneously, looking pleadingly at Hermione. From his seat beside Hermione, Harry was smirking to himself in satisfaction.

"Oh can't I?" Hermione said her voice low and biting over the silence of the room. "Watch me."

With that, she stormed out of the hall, her head held high, steadfastly ignoring everyone else in the room. Blinking in momentary shock, Fred and George immediately came to their senses and jumped over the table in front of them and sprinted for the doors to go after Hermione before she owled their mother and ruining their chance at remaining at Hogwarts.

The students then turned their attention to Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table as though they expected them to have explanations. Harry's face was blank as he prodded at his food with his fork, ignoring the stares of everyone else in the room.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron whispered forcefully, scooting closer to Harry. Harry cringed slightly when his nose was invaded by the remaining traces of Ron's musky scent of his release that Hermione had him given him before.

"You idiot," said Harry, avoiding Ron's gaze. "Your prats for brothers gave Hermione some bloody lipstick that altered her personality. It caused her to be more sexually aggressive and…" Harry turned then, sneering at Ron, "caused her to do what she just did to you." Ron's blush returned in being caught. He looked slightly confused for a moment and then a small smile formed on his mouth.

"Maybe she should wear that lipstick more often then."

Harry stared at him. Then he turned back to the food in front of him, stabbing violently at his mashed potatoes, a loud clang resulting from the impact.

Ron could only look at him in confusion.

After the fiasco in the Great Hall, Harry found himself sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, brooding silently by the fireplace. He was happy though, that Hermione had finally regained her senses. She had walked with him back to Gryffindor tower, her head bowed, her face a bright shade of red, looking extremely uncomfortable. They had walked in silence and Harry was almost amused by her obvious guilt and shame. As they approached the portrait hole, he decided that she had enough torture (after all it wasn't exactly her fault that she acted that way) and decided to broach the subject with her.

"Hermione, don't worry about what happened. You were under the influence of a spelled lipstick. I still consider you my best friend."

She had looked relieved then and nearly tackled him to the ground when she threw her arms around him in an affectionate, but sisterly, hug.

"Oh I'm so glad to hear that Harry. You're my best friend too. I'm glad you're not bothered by the fact that I kissed you."

Then Harry remembered she had got that puzzled look on her face when she was trying to figure something out. He should have known it could only lead to trouble.

"You're…gay."

He had been surprised that she sounded more in awe than anything else.

"I am."

"Well…that's very interesting."

He had smiled then. "It's funny…I figured you'd eventually say that."

When they stepped inside the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione turned to him with a frown.

"So even when I was ready to suck anyone's tongue…I was right about Malfoy?"

"What about Malfoy?"

Hermione and Harry jumped and looked around to see Ginny coming towards them. Harry let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Ugh, Hermione…"

"I'm sorry!"

"Oh come on Harry, you confided in me when she went berserk." Harry grinned and Hermione looked affronted.

"I was not berserk. I was just simply…"

"Insane?"

"Sex-crazed?"

Harry and Ginny attempted to finish her statement. Hermione looked at Ginny, horrified.

"Ginny! Don't talk like that!"

The red headed girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Honestly Hermione, I'm a big girl now. This is how I speak. Right Harry?"

"Sure thing, Gin," Harry replied, smiling ruefully.

"Alright fine," Hermione said, pushing her hair out of her face. "But I still want to know about Malfoy."

"Yah, me too," Ginny said eagerly.

Harry groaned and shook his head. Hermione lowered her voice and looked at Harry expectantly.

"Were you and Malfoy…involved?"

Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh my god."

Harry winced. "Oh my god…doesn't even cover half of it."

"So you were?" Hermione said, blushing at the sound of eagerness in her voice. Ginny could only shake her head in amazement.

"Yah," breathed Harry, his green eyes suddenly clouding over. "It all started last year, at Christmas…"

Pacing the floor of his Prefect's room angrily, Draco cursed Granger repeatedly for getting under his skin. In front of the entire school no less. He had marched right back to the dungeons after his humiliation in the Great Hall and locked himself in his room. The paintings on the walls watched him with interest as Draco began tugging at his hair, lost in thought. He was naked, save for his socks.

As soon as he returned to his room, he had become hard at the remembrance of what it felt like to be locked in that gaze. He couldn't believe that her audacity, her brazen and deliberate attempt to make him look like a fool in front of the entire school, turned him on.

His anger died away, however, when he fell back onto his pillows, cock in hand, and shut his eyes. The image of Granger's face had appeared instantly, and in doing so, caused him to stroke himself faster, bringing himself to the edge. When he finally came, his back arched off the bed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in pleasure, his lips whispering her name hungrily.

As he relaxed, he realized that he had not felt that deep a need for a long time. He sighed contently after he cast a cleaning charm on his sheets, enjoying the coolness of the material against warmed skin. He remembered the taste of her mouth on his lips and the press of her body against him when she had forced her mouth upon him. He could still hear the teasing sound of her voice as it travelled across the hall, asking him of he was jealous.

Of course he was jealous. He was jealous about everything when it came to the Gryffindor Trio. Draco marveled at his own stupidity for ever bothering to mix up with Potter to begin with. At age 11, asking for his friendship was one thing.

At 16, asking to share his bed…

Well. That was an entirely different story.

Sixth Year – Christmas Holidays

Staring into the unlit fire in the Slytherin common room, Draco Malfoy found himself beyond frustrated and unable to relieve his tension. The dungeons were cold, and virtually empty, as most Slytherins had gone home for the holidays. He was angry at himself, at his housemates, various other students in the school, but most importantly— his father.

He had received an owl a few days before the Christmas holidays (from his father) informing him that he would not be returning home for Christmas, because Malfoy senior had "important business to attend to". In other words, Voldemort was a permanent guest at Malfoy Manor, and Draco was subtlety forced to be kept away from the Dark Lord, while his poor parents had to endure his continuous company.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't grateful for his father's wish to keep him safe. But he was 16—next year he would be a man and required to face whatever consequences that lay ahead of him. As a Malfoy, it was his responsibility to take his place as head of the most well-known wizarding families in all of Europe. He couldn't very well accomplish any of the tasks that came along with the title, if he was constantly being protected by his father.

Yet, Draco surmised, while absentmindedly pacing the room, that the Malfoys were not use to dealing with men of Voldemort's immense power. His family had never been prone to groveling at the foot of another. But this was war, and the Malfoys always did what they could to survive and gain whatever they could.

His father, who sat at the grand scheme of things, was currently fooling both Dumbledore and Voldemort into believing that he was on the Dark Side. Unfortunately, this had forced Draco to live under the black cloud of his father's reputation and therefore was forced to give up many of the things he would have loved to have.

One of which being Harry Potter's friendship.

Growing up as a child, Draco had never been told of The Boy Who Lived. Draco had discovered for himself, by sneaking into his father's study, and using an advanced locking spell for his age, unlocked a black chest that had always remained a mystery to him.

Inside were (although Draco did not realize it at the time) photos of Potter's parents, both as students at Hogwarts and while they had been working for Dumbelore in the Order of the Phoenix. When Umbridge had graced their school grounds, Draco had been asked to play part in her secret police. Taken on the role with a sense of obligation, Draco would have given anything to be on the other side of things. He had always imagined what it would be like to play the hero. When he saw the picture of James Potter and Lilly Potter with their newborn son (the picture had not been in the newspaper – it had obviously been found in the ruins of Godric's Hollow, where the Potters had once lived) Draco had stared at the large green eyes whose depths were beyond any Draco, even as a child, had ever seen.

He had taken the picture of the Potters and hid it underneath his pillow and often wondered what had been so significant about these people. And where that little boy had went.

Approaching his mother at seven years old, after years of imagining adventurous crusades with the strange little boy in the picture, Draco finally sought to discover who and what this boy meant.

His mother had taken the picture into her hands very carefully, as though expecting it to harm her. Her face had shown no emotion, her eyes resolutely shuttered from any form of human weakness. Finally, in a voice that matched her face and eyes, she revealed to Draco why this boy was their savior and that somewhere, in the Muggle world, he was being safely hidden and protected under the watchful eyes of Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry Potter, with the infamous scar upon his forehead, had been their savior. The Malfoy family had never once needed anyone to relieve their burdens. They overcame any problem or obstacle that presented itself. Yet now, a Dark Lord darkened their futures, and this boy, and this boy alone, would be the one who would pierce through the darkness and restore the light.

Shaking himself from his thoughts of his interest in Potter as a child, he contemplated on how he felt about the boy now.

Even at eleven, Draco knew that Potter would refuse his hand, even though he hadn't been entirely ready for Weasley's immediate dislike of him, or Potter's easily acceptance of description of his character. He realized that Potter had done the right thing; probably one of the biggest decisions of his life had been made on those steps. Even though he still remembered the bitter taste of disappointment, Draco couldn't blame him. In fact, he grudgingly respected him.

No one ever refused a Malfoy.

At that current moment, Draco's frustration may have been due to all the various things going on around him…but it was because he couldn't relieve his frustration that irked him to no end.

When he had arrived that year, he had been eager to scout out the female population so he could screw anything that he deemed fuckable.

He had gotten off to a good start, but started finding all the Pureblood Slytherin girls to be rather…cold. As if they felt obligated to go to bed with him. Pansy seemed to be the only one who made the effort to chase him. The others approached no one. Draco had gotten to a point where he could no longer get himself off at the thought of any of the girls he had been with and this was causing him severe distraction, both in school and his general interaction with his peers.

He really had nowhere else to turn, and he was about to actually go to Snape for a potion, until something finally happened.

It was after a Gryffindor Quidditch game, a Draco had been eager to pay Potter a visit to taunt him about his ridiculous flying stunts and just rile him up a bit like he always did. Except something happened that Draco hadn't counted on, and he was pretty much ashamed to admit it.

He had walked into the Gryffindor change rooms, thinking that Potter was just about done as everyone had already left. He had walked in, ready to call out to Potter, only to find him nowhere in sight, but heard the shower running. Without even thinking that his worst enemy was standing naked in that shower, Draco had strolled into the shower area, ready to verbally assault Potter.

Except he ended up only assaulting him with his eyes.

Draco had never thought about Potter naked. It was just something that never even occurred to him. That he actually had a body underneath his school robes. Draco just saw him as Scarhead or the boy with the huge green eyes. And the goddamn messy hair.

Everything else had never mattered—until then.

Potter's body was a mass of various muscles, mostly around his arms, his chest, and his legs. His stomach was flat, hairless, and incredibly tanned. His entire body had been- which was a stark contrast from his own appearance. He had been mesmerized by the way Potter's throat looked when it was arched, while Potter rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

Draco had been hard within minutes, his eyes so wide that they began to water from all the steam that blew towards him. Potter had not seen him standing there, because Draco had turned on his heel and vacated the premises. He had gone back to his room, shut the curtains around his bed, and had the best wank in his entire life.

It had happened in late November, and Draco was still using Harry as a means to get off. Except in the past week, it hadn't worked. Draco had become so consumed with the idea of fucking Potter into a wall, that his fantasies were no longer enough. In the halls after he had walked in on Potter naked, Draco began finding deliberate ways to come into physical contact with Potter. But he always managed to do it in secluded areas where no one else was around. Potter seemed distracted all the time, and it had become increasingly difficult to attract the boy's attention. He seemed to be miserable.

Well, Draco would give him something to be miserable about. Especially if Potter didn't give him what he wanted.

A Malfoy may have been turned down once. But there was no way in hell he'd be turned down again.

Which brought him back to his current predicament. Pacing the Slytherin Common Room, wondering how in hell he could get Potter to come around, Draco felt like he just might go insane. He then decided that he could no longer take the silent prison he was in, and decided that he would sneak outside to go for a walk in the cool air, to clear his thoughts.

Silently, Draco crept out of the dungeons and began walking steadily towards the entrance doors that led out into the courtyard where the students lined up to go to Hogsmeade. When he got outside, he heaved a sigh of relief. There was nothing like crisp, winter air to relax the body. Walking quietly along the pathway, Draco stared up at the black velvet sky and the white moon that was centred in it. He always loved these evenings in winter, even as a child.

He wondered then if Potter was sleeping and cursed himself for wondering. Granger and the Weasel had left Hogwarts. Granger had gone to Australia with her parents while the Weasel was visiting his brother Charlie in Romania. Potter was pretty much alone, as most of the upper years in Gryffindor had gone home to visit their families to get the hell away from Umbridge.

The moon seemed to illuminate the entire courtyard, casting shadows along the grounds. Everything could be seen; if anything had been moving, Draco would have definitely spotted it.

And oddly enough, something was.

A dark shadow had been crouched against the stone wall, almost half-hidden by the drooping branches of a willow tree. Draco had seen it, as the dull light that was protruding from it caught his gaze. Silently, Draco had crept closer, slowly beginning to see the outline of a person. Keeping close to the shrubbery that grew along the wall, Draco saw that the person's lower half seemed to be missing. But Draco would never mistake that face anywhere.

The sounds that were emitting from the figure's lips made Draco think he had slipped into one of his fantasies. Quickly remembering himself, he slithered forward and managed to creep up right next to the crouched body, who seemed too preoccupied to notice the presence of someone else. Draco's eyes were narrowed in pleasure as he watched the parted lips, the familiar messy black hair, and the round glasses that were perched on the edge of the person's nose. They glinted in the moonlight.

"And I always thought the Golden Boy was above human depravity."

Draco was somewhat surprised that the boy did not react to his taunt, but continued to stroke himself as though he had not spoken. Draco slid closer to him and leant further back against the wall to get a better glimpse of what he was doing with his hand.

"Take a picture, Malfoy. It'll last longer." With that, Potter came into his hand, his breathing sounding ragged and harsh in the quiet air.

Draco swallowed thickly, watching Potter's face intently as the Golden Boy lifted his fingers to his mouth and began to suck on each one, his tongue swirling in mesmerizing strokes. Draco inhaled sharply at the image and found that with every flick of Harry's tongue, his heart beat sped up and the material around his crouch became constrictive. He never imagined that he would see Potter doing something so sexual.

"Any particular reason why you watched me wank off?" Potter asked with interest, turning bright eyes to Draco's. With his face so close to the other boy's, Draco could see the irises of Potter's eyes had turned almost black in his post-coital bliss. He shivered slightly, and then to his surprise, realized he was cold. Before he could extract his wand from his coat pocket, Harry whispered a quiet spell and the dim light that surrounded Harry extended to cover his figure. Suddenly all his blood rushed towards his crotch, and he felt his vision blur for a few moments. When it cleared, he noticed that Potter's eyes had returned to normal, but his cheeks remained slightly flushed.

"Just finding more creative ways to fuck with you, Potter." The second the words had come out of his mouth, Draco felt his chest constrict in slight anxiety. He was not ready to hear Potter turn him down again. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

Although his features remained expressionless, Draco was surprised at Potter's sudden half smirk. Then, a movement at the corner of his eye made him forget his own unease. Potter had removed what looked to be his invisibility cloak and revealed the rest of his body to Draco. He didn't know whether to be horrified or grateful.

Of course, Draco had never forgotten that body. It belonged to his most hated rival, the boy that would forever have the upper hand. And at that moment, all Draco wanted to do was tear off his own clothes and grind that body into the ground, until he forgot everything—where they were, who they were, what they were—and just take what should have been his long ago.

"You know," Potter said, one leg bent, his elbow resting on his knee, his torso twisted towards Draco, "You can still take me up on that offer about that picture." Potter smirked disarmingly at Draco's partially open mouth. Finally, after collecting himself, and ignoring the thousand questions running through his brain, Draco got his voice back, and asked the question that was foremost in his mind:

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out her, Potter?" The black haired boy raised an eyebrow at him.

"I thought that was rather obvious, Malfoy." Draco's eyes flickered briefly between Potter's legs. After a few moments, he finally raised his eyes to the Gryffindor.

"Perhaps you could show me again?"

---------------

Harry and Draco had gone flying the next day down at the Quidditch pitch. No one had been around, and they both were eager to get up in the air.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked, turning to look at the boy beside him as they stared at the lake, perched from their brooms.

"Yah?" was the casual reply.

"I know this isn't any of my business—"

"Merlin, Malfoy, you've seen me naked—and liked it—and you're worried about something being your business?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned his broom slightly, so he could properly face Harry.

"Yah, alright. So you're sure you don't mind me asking why you've been moping around the castle these past few months?"

Draco saw Harry's mouth tighten, his eyes immediately darting away.

"You're right, Malfoy. That isn't any of your business."

"What the fuck Potter—"

"ALRIGHT!" shouted Harry exasperated, running his fingers through his hair. "God, you whine like a girl."

"I don't fuck like one."

They stared at each other hard. Draco looked away first.

"You've been harder to piss off, that's the only reason I care."

"You don't care at all, Malfoy." Draco looked at him, ready to retort angrily, until he noticed that Potter was smiling at him.

"Ha ha," Malfoy said, his face pinched with frustration.

"Look, it's a sensitive subject for me, okay? And you're definitely the last person I'd enjoy talking about it with."

"Well, don't think I enjoyed coming to you—"

"Correction, you came for me—"

"Oh shut UP, Potter. You can be so…"

"Like you?" Harry grinned at him, bumping his broom against Draco's. Draco couldn't help but smile.

"Yah, sure. Like me."

They were both silent then, lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll tell you, what I can. But I need time."

Draco nodded. Then, grinning like a maniac, he smacked his broom against Harry's hard, and began rushing quickly away.

"I betcha can't catch me, Potter!"

"Goddamnit Malfoy, you could have killed me!" Harry shouted, chasing after him.

------------------

"So what about you?" Harry asked, after he told his pawn to move ahead a couple spaces to take Draco's castle.

They were sitting in the Great Hall as it was deserted.

Three days had passed since their Quidditch encounter.

"What about me?" Draco said offhandedly, staring around the chessboard, murmuring his instruction to his knight, telling it to bloody well do its job properly.

"You know what I mean. You're a Malfoy." Harry watched his rook get obliterated by Draco's knight.

"Thanks for reminding me. You know, I'd almost forgotten. Considering I've spent my last few days fooling around with Harry Potter."

"Don't make it sound so terrible. You seemed to be enjoying me a hell of a lot last night." Harry's queen moved immediately to take Draco's knight. It shattered and a piece flung through the air and hit Draco's forearm. Draco glared at the queen hatefully, but it was staring up at the ceiling in innocence.

"Don't let it go to your already big head, Potter. And I wasn't referring to your cock." Draco's rook moved into position to take Harry's queen.

"Seriously, Malfoy. What's with your bloodline?"

Draco pondered the question for a few minutes, before finally giving a reply.

"If I let you in on the biggest secret of all time—will you tell me why you're so bloody miserable?"

Harry stared down at the chessboard, watching his queen move out of harm's way, taking one of Draco's pawns as it went before answering.

"If I tell you enough that you get the gist of it…will you promise not to ask me for specifics?"

The pleading look in Harry's eyes distracted Draco so much that he gave his chess piece a bad call.

The piece looked at him in complete horror before trudging slowly towards its doom. Draco, after realizing what he had done, swore.

"Gosh, Malfoy, I thought you never let your guard down." Draco glared at him.

"This is entirely your fault."

And Harry knew that he wasn't talking about the game.

----------------------

"We've always gotten our way."

Harry looked up at Draco, over the top of his Quidditch magazine, with a questioning look.

"Who has?"

Draco shook his head, scratching out something he had written on the piece of parchment that was his Potions' essay.

"The Malfoys, Potter. We have always gotten our way."

Harry snorted and shut the magazine.

"Meaning what exactly?"

Draco regarded him for a few moments before placing his quill down on the desk.

"Go back a few years, to our very first year at Hogwarts. A young, devilishly good looking blond was standing on the steps outside the Great Hall doors, waiting to be sorted into the house that his entire bloodline had been sorted into."

"Now, picture another young boy, who looked ridiculously scrawny in his brand new robes, glasses that made his already large eyes unnaturally large, and a scar that revealed his identity to the entire world, without even opening his mouth. Are you following me?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.

"Shut up. I know you do. Now, to set the scene. The devilishly good looking blond youth straightens his arm towards the other boy, to take his hand in a handshake that would seal their friendship. For life. Yet, this said boy refuses said handshake, thereby causing a chain reaction of events that now lead up to this very moment."

"Now let's put names to these boys, shall we? That blond youth is a Malfoy. The youngest, and next air to the greatest Wizarding family in all of Europe. He has been given everything his entire life. He was promised everything. But there was only one thing that this young boy had wanted at that moment…and he was refused. The boy who had refused his friendship was none other than the great Harry Potter. In that moment, instead of friendship, a bond of hatred formed and would only worsen as the years went on."

"My bloodline, Potter? My bloodline is my identity. A Malfoy gets everything he desires. I had no clue of your existence until I found a picture of your parents, holding you as a baby, in my father's study, and from that day, you were my friend. Maybe not in truth, but in my heart, my soul, you were my friend. You gave me strength when I felt fear. You gave me hope when I felt there was none. I had no idea who you were- just that you were alive. And that one day, one day, I would meet you. And I would be able to ask you the question that I've always wished to…but when I did. When I got that chance. You denied me. You. Not the bloody Weasel. Not Gryffindor versus Slytherin, not Dumbledore, not society, no one…just you Harry Potter. You denied me the only thing I wanted. And now…" Draco trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion, with everything that had been bottled up inside him for so many years, "…now, I feel as if I owe you my life. And I want to hate you for it. But I…can't…"

For a long time, neither of them spoke, and they sat, staring into space, both feeling the weight of the blond boy's words. Harry had never known the extent of Malfoy's feelings, and probably would never comprehend what he had gone through, all those years, living with the memory of Harry's immediate rejection of his friendship. He had never even considered that it would have impact at all.

Malfoy looked at everyone else shallowly. Why would he think anyone would see him any other way?

"For what it's worth…" Harry began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "I do regret the anguish I've caused you. These past few days…besides the sex I mean…you've been…" Harry really had no idea how to say the words so they made sense. Because in reality – Malfoy had been the same taunting, annoying, rude and obnoxious person. But it was if…every insult had been laced with a grudging complement, and every punch to Harry's arm had only been a sign of affection. Harry felt that Malfoy was the same old Malfoy. But the strange thing was…Harry liked it. The last thing he wanted was a sappy, romantic Malfoy.

He saw Malfoy's mouth twitch in amusement.

"I understand Potter."

It would suffice. For the time being.

----------------

"I'm surprised it's not freezing up here," Harry murmured quietly, leaning his head back against the brick wall of the Astronomy Tower, Draco's head resting on Harry's thigh.

Draco snorted.

"You idiot. We cast a warming charm on ourselves before we came outside, remember?"

They were both tired from their midnight stroll around Hogwarts that evening and had ended up in the Astronomy Tower in the early hours of the morning. The days had slowly been creeping by, and they had come to learn each other's habits (and teased each other about them) and also found they had a lot in common when it came to simple things.

Politics was another matter.

"I still can't believe that your dad's actually on our side," muttered Harry, shifting his position slightly, stretching his limbs.

Draco turned on his side to face Harry, looking up at him with a bitter expression.

"So intent on thinking the worst of us then, Potter?"

"That's not what I mean, Malfoy. And you know it."

Silence.

"I'm glad." It was so soft that Draco had barely caught it, but when he realized what Harry had said, he sat up abruptly.

"Really?"

Harry nodded and smiled wickedly.

"I mean, if you curse as well as you fuck, we're sure to kick Volde—"

He was cut off rather forcefully as Draco's tongue shoved its way into his mouth.

---------------

They were sitting in front of a fireplace in the room of requirement; Harry had informed Draco that the room would change into whatever you wished it to be. Draco had wished for a replica of the Slytherin common room, to piss Harry off, but then decided to blend the two.

When they had entered the room, he was amazed at how well the two suited each other.

Apparently it didn't clash so badly after all.

They hadn't said anything in over an hour, but Draco was eager to finally discover what Harry was so miserable about.

"Listen Potter. It's been long enough, it's time you tell me—"

"I know Malfoy. I'm about to."

"Oh."

Harry sighed heavily, resting his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands.

"This isn't easy, you know."

"No one said it was, Potter. Just talk and I'll listen. That is simple." Draco saw Harry grimace slightly.

"I guess it really is simple. I've been so miserable because…well…I'm in love."

Draco whistled. "Damn, no wonder why you're miserable." Harry smacked him. "What!"

"It's not being in love that's the problem. It's the person I'm in love with."

"Ah…that's the 'specifics' you didn't want me to ask about, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that's fine. But I must say I am curious to know who has won the heart of the great Harry Potter."

"That's exactly what I mean, Malfoy. This person doesn't see me that way. I'm just…"he trailed off, grappling for something to fill in his thought.

"Harry." Harry looked up in surprise.

"Yah," he said softly. Draco shrugged.

"So, I'm going to assume it's a guy…"

"It'd be wrong to assume that."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, well, it wouldn't be wrong…" Draco laughed at him, shaking his head.

"Potter, what the hell does it matter what anyone else thinks of you? Hell, I don't even know if I'm gay."

"You're not." The words were said with such conviction that Draco turned to him, startled.

"And what the hell would you know about that?"

Harry looked at him, his eyes hazy in the firelight. Draco thought he had seen sympathy within their depths.

"Malfoy…you've never been attracted to any other guy. You came to me because you could no longer get off to thoughts of any of those ridiculous pureblood Slytherin girls. I don't blame you. They're cold as ice. But despite your glacial exterior…you burn. You burn for something far greater, and you thought you found it in me. Perhaps you did. For now. But I'm just a quick fix, Malfoy. Believe me."

When Harry looked up at Draco, he saw a deep anger burning in his eyes, but Harry was not surprised or startled by it. He expected it.

"Fuck. You."

And they did.

------------------

It was the night before Hermione and Ron would return to Hogwarts, and Harry and Draco were outside in the courtyard, in the same position Draco had discovered Harry in. Harry was crouched between Draco's bare legs, brushing the pads of his fingers lightly up and down his inner thighs. Draco watched him with rapt interest as Harry's tongue traced slow, tantalizing patterns over his skin.

"I already know what you're going to say, Potter." Draco grunted, as Harry spread his legs further apart. Harry didn't even look up when he answered.

"Then I guess it won't be so hard saying it." Draco growled and shoved Harry onto his back, erection digging into Harry's thigh. The sudden reaction made Harry moan; Draco had never attacked him like this before.

"I could have fallen for you Harry. I suppose you think you're doing both of us a favour."

Harry reached up and trailed his fingers through Draco's hair, his eyes as bright as they were the first night Draco had seen him out here.

"You'll fall in love, Draco. And when you do, the pull between you will be unlike any you've ever known."

Staring up at the canopy over his bed, Draco let out a long sigh. Potter had been a good friend to him, and he felt almost guilty for angering him. But it was ridiculous that he was getting so worked up over him pursuing Granger. She was single, and he wanted her. It wasn't as Potter didn't know he was actually on the good side. They'd all end up as war heroes either way. It was only a matter of time.

And for now, Draco believed he had found the person that he'd always been searching for. The pull that Potter had mentioned…he felt it every time he looked at Granger across the hall, in his dreams…and especially when she kissed him. There was no mistaking that he was falling in love with the one woman everyone would kill him for pursuing.

But it didn't matter. What mattered was that Draco had found what he had been looking for all along.

He got up and began to head out of the dungeons (to find Potter and set him straight—not literally).

Harry's words echoed in his ears, unearthing who he really was—

One sick fuck

Please review this chapter! I'd REALLY appreciate it!

Madi Black