A/N *slinks in quietly* *slides chapter across table* *sprints out*

Malfoy froze. Harry felt him stiffen and pull back, and inwardly Harry cursed his own stupidity. Stupidity for being caught looking at dark magic, and stupidity for ruining everything between them in a moment of weakness.

Malfoy stepped back and stared at him, his face pale. "You're not gay." His voice sounded weak.

"Neither are you," Harry said, before he realised that wasn't even slightly relevant to the argument.

Malfoy continued to stare at him. "Actually," he said slowly, seeming almost unaware that he was talking. "I'm not- I'm not straight either."

Then Harry realised that Malfoy's pupils weren't dilated in fear. Suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

Slowly, Malfoy stepped forward and kissed him. It was gentle, almost sweet, but earnest in a way Harry had never experienced.

Harry made a sound - he didn't know what and he wasn't aware of making it - and Malfoy broke. In a furious mess of gasps and breathless moans they somehow made it out of the ward and out of the Ministry and apparated home, though Harry couldn't have said how.

And then they were home, and there was Malfoy, and Harry was there too of course, and the whole thing just felt so surreal that he couldn't quite believe it was happening.

Malfoy brought his hands up to Harry's face and held them there, before slowly bending down to kiss him again. They were back to slow, sweet kisses, which Harry found he was immeasurably thankful for. While he might no longer hold any doubts about his feelings for Malfoy, everything about this was still very new. That it was Malfoy, that it was a man, that it was with someone who - thank Merlin - didn't stare at him with even a small amount of hero-worship.

No, Malfoy was worshipping him in a very different way.

Harry reached down and began to unbutton Malfoy's shirt, button by button. He hoped Malfoy wouldn't notice his fingers were shaking. If he did notice, then Harry's attempts to present himself as the perfect one night stand for someone who 'doesn't love' might fail before they even began.

Deep down, he acknowledged that his self respect should have more to say about this, but if this was the only way he might be able to have what he wanted, did it really matter?

Malfoy gasped as Harry's fingers slid inside his shirt, and he pulled back just enough for Harry to see his face: eyes closed, and lips parted in what looked almost like rapture.

Unable to stop himself, Harry leaned forward and kissed Malfoy's jaw lightly, working his way down his jawline until he could slip lower, to his neck, to his collarbone - any section of skin he could find. He knew these weren't the kind of kisses you gave when you didn't love someone. This wasn't the furious, urgent, transient kind of making out that you did when it didn't mean anything, when it was just two people attracted to each other and willing to fool around. This was a prelude to making love, something he had never done. Something he shouldn't be doing right now, not if he wanted to ever do this again.

But he couldn't help it. He just hoped Malfoy didn't notice.

Malfoy's occasional gasps had become panting, quick and heavy, and Harry could feel Malfoy's body shudder beneath his lips.

"Potter," Malfoy rasped. "You're- what are you doing?"

Harry felt a jolt hit him as he heard the uncertainty in Malfoy's voice. He was taking too long, he was exploring Malfoy with too much reverence. He was giving himself away. He needed to be harsher.

He ripped Malfoy's shirt from his shoulders and pushed him back against the wall. A surprised noise escaped Malfoy's throat as his back hit the plaster, and then they were kissing again. This time it was Malfoy's hands on Harry's body as he fought to pull Harry's shirt over his head without interrupting their kiss.

Malfoy finally gave an exasperated grunt, pulled back, and ripped Harry's shirt off, knocking his glasses askew. Harry stumbled as Malfoy pushed him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed - when had they made it to the bedroom? - and he fell helplessly onto his back.

Malfoy paused, and Harry could see his pulse thudding against his collarbone. His eyes ran over Harry's body and he seemed suddenly overwhelmed. Harry could almost see the thoughts racing through his mind.

Apart from quick clothing changes in the communal showers at the Ministry, Harry had never seen Malfoy shirtless before. His pale skin was smooth, almost unmarred by scars despite the numerous scrapes they'd both been in. The only unnatural lines on his torso were three jagged cuts above his heart.

Harry's eyes met Malfoy's, and the shrewd look there told him that Malfoy knew exactly what he was thinking. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me you're going to wuss out because of that," he said quietly, his voice rough. "It was long ago." He suddenly smirked. "If you like, you could make it up to me now? Tit for tat?"

Harry laughed breathlessly. "I always knew you'd be a kinky bastard."

Malfoy knelt over him, his hands on either side of Harry's shoulders and all previous hints of hesitation gone without a trace. "Don't like it rough, Potter? Maybe later."

Then his mouth descended on Harry's again and Harry forgot to pay attention to anything. He could feel Malfoy moving above him, freeing them both of clothing and kicking away the sheets and blankets so that their feet were no longer tangled in sweat and linen.

Malfoy's mouth moved lower, and Harry thought he could feel him mouthing words against his skin, but he was speaking too softly for Harry to hear, and then suddenly his tongue reached a spot just near Harry's hipbone and Harry arched up with a moan just before Malfoy's lips closed around him.

From then on all he could remember was a blur of sensations. The way the moonlight hit the arch of Malfoy's shoulder. The scent of Malfoy's neck as he moved above Harry. The expression of open wonder on his face as Harry moved above him.

Sometimes Harry froze, uncertain if what he was doing was right or good for Malfoy at all - it was like all his past experience had never happened. This meant so much more, although he fought desperately to pretend it didn't, trading the tender kisses he longed to give for passionate bites and moans.

Malfoy either didn't notice or didn't mind, and to Harry's surprise, he sometimes seemed hesitant as well. His eyes would suddenly fall on Harry's neck or the side of his face and he would stop, looking almost startled, and run his thumb gently over the places where the shadows of his chin or nose or cheeks must fall. Harry wondered if Malfoy had ever been with a man before; if that was why he kept catching himself by surprise. Or maybe it was just that it was Harry, and neither of them had ever looked at each other like this before.

Harry let out an involuntary groan; of course he had looked at Malfoy like this. He had always looked at Malfoy like this - he had just never realised. And now that he did realise, he had to make sure Malfoy never did, or he would surely lose him altogether. Though a part of him knew that no matter how much he tried to distance himself, this was doomed to fail.

Malfoy bit down gently on Harry's earlobe, and Harry forgot to care.

Later, when Harry was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with the sweat already cooling on his skin, he acknowledged that Malfoy had been far more tender than Harry would ever have guessed. That was a problem. It would make it harder to remember what Malfoy had made so very clear; that he would never - could never - love anyone.

Harry sighed and resolved to make sure that Malfoy would have absolutely no doubts that Harry was only in this for a fling, just like him.

"I guess you can't kick me out at least, since I'm living here," Harry murmured sleepily, trying to make his voice light.

There were several seconds of confused silence. "Why the fuck would I kick you out?" Malfoy mumbled into his pillow.

Harry frowned. "Er, well-"

"Do you kick people out right after you've shagged them?"

"No, but-"

"But you thought I would. Tosser." Malfoy's usual insult sounded strangely affectionate. Then he paused, and Harry could see that the part of his face that wasn't hidden was frowning. "But why would you think I would kick you out?"

Harry shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

Malfoy opened his mouth, as if it speak, but then shut it again. He rolled onto his side properly, so that he wasn't face down on the pillow, and threw his arm over Harry, pulling him close.

"Go to sleep, Potter."

Harry shoved the part of his brain that kept shouting this is futile deep, deep, down into the depths of his subconscious, and finally managed to fall asleep to the sound of Malfoy's slow, rhythmic breaths.

A/N My fic for HD Erised is up now, too :D It was an awesome fest, and I so enjoyed writing for the amazing mitsouparker (if you haven't checked out her art on tumblr, you're missing out) and reading all the amazing stories. It's up here (or will be in two seconds when I upload it) - it's called Incongruent - if you're feeling like 40, 000 words of eighth year angst. (and hey, look, it's a finished fic from me for a change! Gotta love that...)