Author's Note: Hello! Hope you are all having a good day (or night, I don't know when you read this). Draco's POV.

Chapter 17

Draco sighed, tapping his fingers idly against the desktop and staring out the window at the falling snow. It was strange having a view of the castle grounds in his room, and even stranger sharing the space with a bunch of rowdy Gryffindors, but for some reason, Draco had easily grown used to the change in atmosphere. And sure, Weasley was aggravating and the other three were just as to be expected, but Gryffindor Tower and its occupants were surprisingly less boorish and repugnant than he had let himself believe before—not that Draco's new status with the Potter clan hadn't helped him quite a bit... His new part-time dormmates had had no choice but to remain cordial with him lest they wished to face the wrath of a very powerful, very smitten Harry Potter. Draco smiled to himself at the thought. It had been no small victory to witness the looks on Weasley's and Finnigan's faces when Potter had first announced that any funny business in the dorms while Draco was around would not be permitted... but of course, Potter had to go and ruin it all by turning to Draco and informing him that the same rules applied to him. No funny business. Draco snorted. Please—as if anyone would be laughing if Draco had directed one of his famous hexes at them.

But all in all, life was good. The past couple of weeks had gone by so quickly; alternating rooms was almost second nature to him and Potter now. Draco glanced out the window once more. Speaking of Potter, the idiot had insisted on playing Quidditch outside with Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan—which was absolutely ridiculous, in Draco's opinion. Of course, he had warned Potter of the biting cold and frigid snow, but Potter had just laughed and then Weasley had asked if Draco had wanted to join them—apparently the 'no funny business' thing had had the redhead slowly warming up to the idea of Draco's constant presence, as he was starting to include Draco more and more in dorm activities these days. Honestly, Draco didn't know whether to be offended or amused by that. It was a rare thing for him to witness a calm Weasel.

Anyway, Draco had refused the offer as kindly as he possibly could (in short, he hadn't made Weasley boil or cry), and Potter had grinned and kissed Draco on the nose before running off with Weasley to play. Gods. Draco could still feel the heat on his cheeks from that gesture—it was ridiculous, really, but the whole nose-kissing thing had become a bit of a game to them. Because it was so sickeningly sweet and girly and childish, Draco had protested the kiss from the very moment Potter had first tried it... so of course, Potter had taken that as a challenge and now pecked Draco on the nose whenever he damn well felt like it. Draco still protested, and he still blushed and grumbled and sulked... But deep, deep down, he supposed he actually fancied it quite well. At least Potter was showing that he cared.

As if Summoned, Draco heard the voices of the Potter clan behind him and he turned around to find Potter, Finnigan, Longbottom and Thomas all charging through the doorway, shouting and grabbing for warm, dry clothing to change into—each boy was soaking wet, flecks of snow still fresh on the tops of their heads, and Draco smirked at Potter; the Gryffindor's lips were positively blue and he was shivering to no end.

"Merlin, you lot look cold," Draco remarked, still grinning. "I wonder who could have predicted that? Oh, that's right. Me!"

"Shut up," Weasley muttered, with Finnigan, Longbottom and Thomas uttering similar phrases in the background. Draco only laughed.

Potter shook his hair out over a towel on the floor and rolled his eyes. "Don't act so smug, Malfoy," he said. "At least we had fun this afternoon."

"I had fun!" Draco insisted, gesturing at the desk he was sitting at to prove his point.

"There's nothing there," Finnigan said, and Draco scowled at him. Now Potter laughed.

"Ha ha ha," Draco snapped, and then glared at his boyfriend. "I guess someone doesn't want any tonight."

Potter stopped laughing. "Malfoyyyyyy," he whinged.

"No," said Draco.

Potter walked over to Draco and plopped down on his lap before leaning in really close to Draco's face. "Please forgive me, I promise I'll be good," he pleaded, in a voice that was bordering on absurd. Yet, it was also strangely sexy. "I'll do anything."

"Sweet Merlin," Thomas groaned. He was ignored.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Whatever you want," Potter promised, grinning.

Draco smirked and glanced over at Weasley. "Hey, do you still have that leather whip thing?" he asked innocently.

"Are you serious?" Weasley exclaimed, throwing a dry jumper over his head and shooting Draco a murderous glare. "I told you already, it's not a whip, Malfoy—it's a belt."

"Then why does it have a huge handle thing on the end?"

Weasley frowned. "It's a special kind of—oh, don't be a prat! How do you even know that it has a handle? I didn't show it to you!"

"You didn't have to," Draco remarked matter-of-factly. "It's in your trunk."

"Why the bloody hell were you in my trunk!"

"Malfoy," Potter warned, before Draco could respond. "Don't."

Draco pursed his lips and said nothing—instead, he raised an eyebrow at Weasley as if to say 'I'm not done with you' and then proceeded to inspect his nails. Weasley shot him a dirty look before turning to leave the room, muttering under his breath; Finnigan threw his arms around both Thomas and Longbottom and led them out as well. Draco waited until they were all out before he looked back at Potter and kissed him on the cheek. Gods! It was like ice.

"That wasn't very nice, Malfoy." Potter leaned in and brushed his cool lips against Draco's. "Ron's gonna have it out for you all night now."

Draco shivered at the contact. "As if I give a fuck," he said.

"You should," Potter remarked, now letting his still-icy cheek graze past Draco's to whisper in his ear. "Teasing a Gryffindor is never a smart idea."

Draco gulped. "Even if it's you?"

Potter drew back and gave him an innocent smile. "Especially if it's me," he said.

Damn it. Draco rolled his eyes and pretended not to be turned on. He leaned in close to Potter's face and smiled too. "I promise you nothing," he declared, before pressing his mouth to Potter's properly. The instant chill ran through him immediately and his lips were protesting the cold as he deepened the kiss. Draco didn't care. Their molded skin was like ice to fire, cool to warm, sun to snow; opposites in every way. Just like them. Potter stopped and nuzzled his frosty nose into Draco's warm hair.

"Good," Potter murmured.

Draco tried not to smile again. "Watch the gel now, Potter," he replied. The other boy only grinned and snuggled closer to Draco, and Draco sighed and rested his flushed face into the crook of Potter's neck. There, he breathed in the scent of Potter: of clean linens, fresh, cool air; the slight tinge of dry sweat and a hint of strawberry shampoo. It wasn't a particularly enticing aroma... it wasn't particularly anything. And yet, Draco couldn't get enough of it. It was Potter.

Suddenly, Potter stopped cuddling and leaned back to inspect Draco's face. "I forgot to ask," he remarked. "Did you find someone to babysit Rebecca today?"

Draco sighed. Trust Potter to remember the baby doll/school assignment at a time like this. He grabbed Potter's wrist to look at the Muggle watch he had on. "Yeah, Blaise has her until four," Draco announced, peering at the device once more and frowning. "That's in... thirty minutes, perhaps we should go—"

Potter grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him out of his seat and leading him towards the door before he could properly finish. Draco followed Potter into the Gryffindor common room then; it was alive with noise and activity, as usual. Potter kept a firm grip on Draco's hand as they travelled through the room amidst the joyous shouting and general bustle. "Oi, Harry!" It was Weasley yelling over the commotion. He was sitting on the couches by the fireplace with Finnigan, Thomas, and Longbottom. "Fancy a game, mate?"

Draco frowned and tilted his head. There were several boards of wizard chess out on tables in front of the couches, and Weasley was already set up at one of them and beckoning them over. Potter grinned and shook his head before turning to Draco. "Malfoy, go play with him," he said. "I'll go get Rebecca from Slytherin."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Against Weasley?" he asked, incredulous. "Come on, Potter... if this is about earlier, I can get back on his good side in some other manner—besides, you know how I play. I'll destroy him and he'll be even more angry with me."

Potter laughed and his eyes glittered in a way that made Draco uneasy. "I think you'll be surprised," he remarked.

Draco scoffed at that, but he made his way over to Weasley and the chess board anyways. "Very well then," he declared, sitting down and folding his hands together on the board. "Let's do this, Weasley." Weasley gave him an appraising look before seemingly deciding it was okay to shrug and set up the game.

"Play nice, boys," Potter called, turning around and leaving the Common room.

Draco nodded sweetly and waited until Potter was gone before leaning in towards Weasley. "I don't play nice, Weasley," he hissed. "I play to the death."

"Fantastic, Malfoy," Weasley replied, now with a growing grin. "So do I."

~x~

Almost two hours later, Potter came bounding back into the Common room with Rebecca in his arms. "Hey, guys, sorry I took so long," he announced, striding up to the couches and settling down into the seat next to Draco. "Blaise distracted me with a—"

"Shh!" Draco held his hand up to Potter's face. "Not now."

Potter frowned, confused. Draco and Weasley were currently surrounded by a small group of onlookers; Thomas, Finnigan, and Longbottom were still watching intently, Weasley's sister and another Gryffindor girl sat nearby as well. The aura was crazy intense—the moment they had started playing, Draco had felt the air get ten times heavier; everything seemed to move in slow motion. It was the perfect game, damn it. Potter peered over at the chess board now and raised his brows.

"What's going on?"

"Potter!" Draco exclaimed. "A bit of silence, if you will!"

At Potter's silent balking, Thomas took pity on him. "Malfoy is like, this close to losing," he whisper-explained, gesturing towards the game board. "They've been in a lockdown for almost four moves now... And Ron's got Malfoy's Queen."

"You shut the fuck up, Thomas," Draco growled.

Weasley grinned. "Sore loser, Malfoy?"

Draco glared at him. "You shut the fuck up too, Weasley?" he retorted in the same tone.

"Ah, chess," Finnigan declared contently.

Potter chuckled and leaned back in his chair, cradling Rebecca in his arms as he did. "You two know that dinner is in ten minutes, right?" he asked, looking from Draco to Weasley with a slightly amused expression on his face.

Before Draco could hash out a biting response to that, Ginny Weasley piped up to Potter's rescue. "If you say anything else, Harry, you're going to be Malfoy's next 'shut the fuck up' victim," she said. "Trust me, we've all gotten at least a few by now."

Draco smiled a bit without taking his eyes off the board. "Smart girl," he remarked. "It's nice to know that there is at least one Gryffindor in this bloody place that has a bit of decent common sense—even if she does happen to be a redhead."

Weasley raised an eyebrow and moved his piece across the board. "And my sister, Malfoy, so I'd advise that you stop there," he said. Then he grinned. "Also, checkmate."

What? Draco shook his head in disbelief and gaped at the board. "But... I... and you... and this... What?"

"You've rendered Malfoy speechless, Ron," Longbottom observed, peering at Draco with interest and some amusement.

"This is such a beautiful day," Finnigan declared. Thomas nodded, laughing and agreeing with him. Draco stopped gaping for a moment to glare at the two of them before resuming his previous activity. How did this happen? He never lost a game of wizards chess before.

Weasley was still grinning. "Good game, Malfoy," he said now. "Harry was right—you are exceptional."

Draco gave Weasley a sceptical once-over before shaking his head again and sighing. "Yeah, I suppose he was," he muttered, shooting Potter a silent don't-you-dare look before turning back to Weasley. "We are going to have a rematch, though. I am not losing to you again."

"Looking forward to it," Weasley agreed.

Although Draco was disappointed that he had lost the game (to a Weasley, no doubt!), he was actually sort of intrigued by the new competition—he had never known anyone good enough to challenge him at wizards chess... and now, he'd found someone. Draco had to take what he could get: even if it was Weasley. Besides, if Draco wanted to spend more time with Potter, he was going to have to get used to the redheaded best friend as well. Obviously, Draco had known that going into the relationship... Potter whooped now and gave Weasley a high-five before turning to Draco and grinning at him brightly. Draco couldn't help but grin back. He wasn't complaining, honestly, he could handle a few antagonising encounters with the Weasel—Potter was worth all of the trouble.

"Come on, champ, I'm hungry," Potter announced, taking Draco's hand with one arm and holding Rebecca in the other; he pulled Draco away from the others and headed out of the Common room into the hallways before his friends could catch up. Of course, once Draco and Potter were out of Gryffindor Tower, or the Slytherin dungeons, things weren't as laidback and simple—the incident in Marriage Sex and Family a few weeks ago had spread like wildfire, and soon everyone in the castle had learned of their scandalous relationship. And sure, they'd taken a lot of shit for it initially, and sometimes Draco found himself prone to repulsed glares or hushed whispers as he passed students in the corridors, but for the most part everything was all right—at least the clamour had died down, because Draco knew that Potter hated the unnecessary attention. To be honest, Draco wasn't too thrilled for it either. Thankfully, the Headmaster had promised punishment to any student who dared to go to the press about anything involving Potter's social life, so the whole ordeal was kept under wraps.

As Potter and Draco approached the Great Hall entrance, however, a Fifth year Ravenclaw bloke standing near the front doors froze and gaped at the sight of them. Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Potter, who looked back at him with the same expression. Honestly. Potter smiled slightly now and squeezed Draco's hand tighter before leaning in and giving him a proper peck on the mouth—Draco could hear the Ravenclaw bloke squeak from where he was standing. Well, it wasn't as if he and Potter weren't going to milk it when they could.

"Let's get dinner, love," Potter said loudly, as he broke the kiss. Draco nodded and then glanced over at the Ravenclaw with a satisfied smirk.

Merlin, life was fantastic.

~x~

After an uneventful dinner and a few study rounds at the library, Draco and Potter were now making their way to the Potions classroom for their weekly questioning still hand in hand. Despite Draco's general dislike for public affection, he didn't particularly mind the hand-holding. For some reason, it made him feel more powerful as he walked down the corridors—he could gaze upon each passing student as if to say, 'Fuck off, Harry Potter is all mine', and honestly, how could that not represent ultimate dominance? Of course, there was also a few other lovely perks, such as the softness of Potter's skin or the warmth of his touch and so on and so on. But Draco wasn't about to get sappy. At least he could pretend it was all about the power.

When they entered the classroom, routine set in as usual: Draco went to Snape's front desk and picked up the surveys, and Potter scooted the worktables together and settled Rebecca down between them. After they had both finished their jobs and sat in their regular seats, Draco took out a quill and peered at the parchment in front of him. "Oh, look," he remarked dryly. "There are fourteen pages instead of ten this week."

Potter wrinkled his nose. "Do you reckon he's trying to kill us?"

"Nah." Draco sighed. "I'm rather certain he'd fancy killing us in some way that involves cashmere turtlenecks..."

Potter snorted at that. "Perhaps he'd gag us with them and let us drown in an expanding tub," he mused.

"Very likely," Draco agreed. "Slow and painful is his forte."

Potter laughed now. "Well, until that exciting day arrives, I suppose we've really got to finish these damned surveys... So. Tell me something that I don't know about you." His quill was poised expectantly over the parchment.

Draco thought for a moment. "Anything?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. Perhaps it was time to let Potter in on the whole truth about his past. "I… I was a covert spy for the Order during the war," Draco confessed. "For Dumbledore, mostly. To be honest, I was on the Light side before the real fighting even started." He stole a quick peek at Potter—at the very least Draco had expected him to look startled or shocked, however, Potter hadn't even flinched. Instead, he just wrote it down. Draco frowned. "Excuse me, Potter? This is a life-altering confession here. Why aren't you surprised?"

Potter finished writing and looked up at Draco. He smiled a little. "Honestly, Malfoy, I think I've suspected that." He raised an eyebrow. "For a long time now."

Draco stared back at him, now surprised himself. "Really?" he asked. "Why?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't know. You were never anything that I couldn't handle... No offense."

Draco crossed his arms. "I don't understand," he muttered. "Didn't you hate me?"

"No..." Potter said slowly. "I never hated you. I mean, I had always thought that I did, you know, back in the early days—but I didn't know what hate was then, Malfoy." Potter paused and frowned. "Not until I met him."

Draco could feel remorse twist up in his chest. He remembered the way it had felt during the war—when everything was uncertain and he couldn't trust anything and he couldn't let anyone into his life. It had been awful. But if Draco were to be honest, he wasn't so surprised at Potter's admission... he had felt that way as well. Sure, Draco had thought that he hated Potter for a long while—hell, he had thought it from the very moment Potter had rejected him at the beginning of their First Year—but as time passed, Draco had realised that he didn't hate Potter. In fact, Draco had found that his and Potter's situations were eerily similar... and somehow, had grown curious of it. And yet, Draco had continued to antagonise Potter, because, well, he didn't know what else there was to do.

"I get it," Draco murmured, pursing his lips. "... Even though I acted like a complete git to you at the beginning of this year, I had felt it too. I mean, I had no reason to fight, I just... I don't know. It seemed easier than anything else."

Potter nodded. "Sure, I did the same thing," he said. "For some reason, I had thought that if I fought with you, everything would be just as it was before the war—stupid, I know, but I couldn't help it even if I tried. I had sort of believed that recapturing those days would take me back, you know? To the prime in my life." He bit his lip and smiled sadly at Draco. "I suppose I didn't think that I had much to look forward to."

Draco raised his brows. "Honestly? Me too," he admitted.

"Hm. Sort of odd how alike we are, huh?" Potter hesitated and glanced down at the parchment in front of him, as if just remembering its presence. "I suppose that could be my answer for the question, by the way." He waited for Draco to write the response before peering at the next question and reading it aloud. "Name an important someone in your life. Why are they important to you?"

Draco was quiet for a moment. "My mother," he said finally. "I suppose she was the one who taught me how to live for myself."

Potter nodded silently and scooted his chair closer. His arm just barely brushed Draco's. "You should write letters," he suggested. "I mean, to your mother... Send them to the Manor or something. Even if she'll never get them, it helps, trust me—I mean, I write letters to Sirius and Lupin every so often whenever I feel especially alone." He smiled a bit. "It makes me feel better. Like they're listening to me somehow."

Draco inspected Potter's face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll try that," he said softly. Then he leaned back and raised one eyebrow. "So how about you, then? Anyone important?"

Potter shrugged. "I can't choose just one. Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore... I'm blessed to have so many people who love and support me. I mean, it's incredible, really—it's not like they had to do any of the things that they did for me..." He paused. "I'm... lucky."

"It's nice to be surrounded by people who care," Draco agreed, peering at Potter carefully once more. "Almost like family."

Potter's eyebrow twitched a little at that; however, he was good at pretending it hadn't phased him. "I suppose so," he murmured. "But I mean, nobody compares to family, right?"

Draco sighed. Family had always been a touchy thing between the two of them and they hardly ever talked it through—although, both he and Potter inherently knew that they were each messed up beyond repair because of it. It was almost fate, how their similar paths had crossed... and maybe Draco hadn't wanted to jinx their good fortune, or perhaps he hadn't wanted to rock the relationship boat just yet. However... Draco gazed at Potter again. Sometimes, he just had to wonder: how did it feel to be known as a famed Saviour and icon of the Wizarding world—expected to be stronger than possible at all times, forced to put up facades of bravery even when all source of hope was lost? Potter should have the right to be afraid, to be uncertain, negative, or weak sometimes... Potter should have the right to let go. And for some reason, Draco wanted Potter to have that... with him.

"Potter?" Draco asked now. "Do you... do you miss them terribly?"

Potter looked away and was quiet for a long, long time. He didn't have to ask whom Draco was referring to. "I want to," he admitted quietly. "I mean, gods, I really, really want to. But I can't. No matter how hard I try, I can't miss my parents... It sounds awful, and I know that they loved me and that they sacrificed everything for me... but part of me sort of wishes that they hadn't, you know? Part of me wonders whether or not living had been worth it—had it really been worth it to live knowing that I would never learn magic tricks from my dad or read stories with my mum, or watch them cheer me on at Quidditch matches or celebrate birthdays and holidays and everything that seems so unimportant and stupid but for some reason keeps me up at night? I mean, I could have just died along with them and I wouldn't have to feel like this all of the time... And sometimes, I can't help but feel angry with them... For leaving me here." Potter shook his head and snuffled a bit. "I don't know, I honestly don't know what I'm talking about. It's coming out like uncontrolled sick, I didn't mean to unload on you like this—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Draco said gently.

Potter stared at the wall and held his face in his hands for a few moments. "I know that I sound like a whingy orphan, and trust me, I wouldn't change a thing about how my life has played out so far—I know that I was meant to kill Voldemort. I know that I've saved a lot of lives." He frowned and took a slightly shuddering breath. "But honest to Merlin, Malfoy, there is nothing that hurts more than dreaming of all of those selfish, simple 'what ifs'," he confessed. "And I swear, every time I do, my heart breaks just a little bit more."

Draco bit his lip—suddenly, all of the awful times that he'd made mean, petty jabs at Potter's deceased parents came flooding back into his memory until they were all screaming at him, taunting—and gods, for the love of everything holy in this universe, he had never felt like more of an arsewipe than he did at the moment. There was no excuse for it! Draco had always realised that it was a sore subject, and although he hadn't been explicitly aware of the magnitude of its effects, it was still rather wrong and he should have steered clear of it. No matter how much he had thought that he hated Potter... To be completely honest, Draco didn't know if he could ever make it right.

"Potter, I—" he started.

Potter shook his head. "No, it's okay."

"Honestly, if I had only known, I would have never—"

"I know," Potter interjected again, looking back at Draco now. His eyes were a bit red but he was smiling a little. "It kind of makes me feel a bit better."

Draco frowned. "It does?"

"Yeah." Potter laughed; albeit bitterly. "It's mental how much things can change when you actually get to know someone, you know? Makes me wonder whether or not we'd ever really known each other at all."

Potter was right. Draco took Potter's hand in his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I really am."

"Me too," Potter said, smiling still. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "Thank you for listening."

Draco didn't even protest Potter's gesture; he kissed the top of the other boy's head instead. "It's no trouble," he whispered. "I should've listened a long time ago."

~x~

A few days after the incident, Draco was already starting to feel a bit antsy from his lack of recent Slytherin contact—this tended to happen at the very end of each Gryffindor week—and he was positively itching to crack an insult or rude comment somewhere. He would settle for a biting look, even. Unfortunately for him, he was sitting in the common room with Potter, and at the moment, they were completely alone—it was the start of the week-end and most students were out visiting common rooms or playing in the snow... Of course, this meant that there was no one to target except for Potter himself... And it wasn't that Draco was scared or anything (he wasn't!), but he didn't think it wise to prod Potter in his home territory. Merlin knows what the Golden boy pegged as punishment. Draco sighed and twitched a bit in his seat.

Potter popped his head out from behind the Quidditch magazine he was reading and studied him for a moment. "You okay?" he asked.

Draco nodded stiffly. "Never better."

Potter peered at Draco for a while longer before shifting his entire body so that he was virtually sitting atop Draco's lap. Draco closed his own sad excuse for a magazine and threw it across the table in front of them. Potter grinned and did the same with his.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Potter mused.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What gave me away?"

Potter only grinned again and lunged forward, pinning Draco to the couch with one swift movement—he was kissing Draco before Draco could even properly react. Of course, then Draco tugged at Potter's jumper, pulling him closer, and Potter made a noise of approval; the kiss became more insistent as Potter tightened his grip on Draco's abdomen. Draco closed his eyes and let Potter kiss and claw and suck at him without restraint. Honestly, Potter was getting wilder by the day, pushing Draco to his limit until neither of them could take much more... Of course, Draco would always let Potter have more—he didn't know why, normally, he was the commanding one in the relationship—but here, Potter's control was simply too hot to resist.

The other boy had managed to rip off both of their school shirts and was currently working on trousers, all the while never removing his mouth from Draco's. Fuck, Potter had gotten quite quick stripping his clothes from his body—and Draco wasn't complaining. At all. However, this couch was rather scratchy against his bare back...

"Wait," Draco panted, pulling away from Potter for just a moment to look at him. "Shouldn't we take this back to the dorm?"

Potter raised an eyebrow and smiled. "No," he declared, squeezing Draco almost painfully. "We'll stay right here."

"Anyone could walk in right now, Potter."

Potter smiled again and leaned down to whisper in Draco's ear. "Let them," he hissed.

Draco shivered and immediately yanked Potter into another searing kiss, desperately trying to taste everything Potter, desperately trying to fight for domination; he tugged on Potter's Gryffindor tie, which was still on despite his lack of a shirt, pulling him closer and tugging at his hair. Potter shoved him in response and scratched at Draco's chest and stomach—gods, it felt good—Draco writhed unashamedly from Potter's touch, moaning and whimpering in a way that was altogether humiliating. Despite his better judgment, Draco let Potter ravage his chest and move down his throat; all he could do was stare down at Potter with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Potter's pants had somehow come off at this point and Draco tried not to cry as the skin-to-skin almost burned to the touch, his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest... Draco closed his eyes again and let out a ragged breath, exposing more of his throat for Potter and trying not to think of how damn much he wanted to shove Potter onto the floor, mount him, and tell him to hurry the fuck up already... Finally, Potter was yanking at Draco's pants with one insistent hand, his hot mouth still roaming Draco's skin—

"Oh my god!" A shrill voice cried. Both boys stopped abruptly, frozen with shock, and Draco slowly opened his eyes. Oh, fuck. It was Granger standing above them, her face scarlet with horror, with one hand over her mouth as if she had just realised she'd spoken aloud.

"Hermione!" Potter shouted, scrambling to sit up and cover his bits. "What the hell?"

Granger gaped for a moment longer before looking away sharply. "I'm sorry, I was looking for you and I heard strange noises so I—I didn't mean—"

Draco pulled himself away from Potter and grabbed his school shirt from the floor, ignoring the wrinkles and pulling it over his head. His trousers were next. Then, he silently handed Potter his clothing; Potter took them gratefully and shoved them on as well. Granger was still adamantly looking away. "Granger, we're dressed," Draco drawled, pretending not to feel the horrible, uncomfortable tension in the room.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry," Granger said again, now glancing up at them sheepishly. "I don't know what to say."

Draco was about to retort with a 'how about I'm leaving now', but Potter spoke up first. "It's not a big deal," he lied. "We were almost finished anyways." Almost was the key word here... Draco gave his boyfriend a dry look, but Potter steadily ignored him. Granger sighed.

"Good," she said. "Anyway, I just wanted to speak with you about that Charms assignment, but I suppose it can wait, considering, well..." She chuckled nervously. "If it helps, I didn't see everything."

Potter ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Well that's okay, Hermione," he said. "I mean, it's not like it's the first time you've seen too much."

Draco's head shot up and he glared at Potter. "What do you mean by that?" he snapped.

Potter's eyes widened considerably and he shook his head. "Nothing! I just meant that she's seen me before—I mean, on accident, because she was there with me—I mean, no, fuck—"

Granger cut him off. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, stop talking," she exclaimed, before turning to Draco. "I caught a quick glimpse that one time Snape vanished his clothes during Marriage and Family. It was nothing. Besides, it wasn't just me—Ron saw too. And probably many others."

"Hermione," Potter whinged. "You don't have to go into detail."

Draco shrugged and smirked now. "I figured as much," he admitted. "But to be honest, it doesn't actually matter anymore now that I know Potter swings for me. Stare at his bits all you want, Granger, I don't care. He's mine."

Granger turned a deep shade of red. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I'm going to try not to do that from now on—" She whirled around and fled for the portrait. "I'll see you guys later!"

As soon as she left, Potter tapped Draco's shoulder and folded his arms across his chest when Draco turned. "What was that about?" he demanded.

Draco smiled innocently. "What?"

"You played the fake-jealousy card. Why?"

"Because—" Draco raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms too. "You got us caught. You deserved ten seconds of agitation."

Potter pursed his lips. "You petty little git," he accused, falling on top of Draco's lap once more. "Go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow."

Draco smirked. "I don't know, I'm still rather pissed about the whole Granger thing..."

With that, Potter yanked Draco forward and kissed him hard on the mouth, cutting him off. Draco tried not to grin as he kissed Potter back—gods, Potter was irresistible. The Gryffindor nipped at Draco's lip playfully before he pulled away.

"How about now?"

Draco gave in. He grinned. "Fine," he said. "But you're buying, Potter."