A/N: So, normally, I'd be waiting for more reviews but consider this a Valentine's Day present. I guess all this love in the air has inspired me, so enjoy an update in which I don't have to apologize for lateness!

Having been unable to focus in any of his classes all day long, for which Snape was delighted to take points from Gryffindor, Harry had had time to think of several different explanations he might offer when Malfoy finally confronted him. Waiting for it to happen was beginning to drive him insane. It was already halfway through his rehearsal and the other boy still hadn't so much as looked his way.

Of course, Trelawney had taken Harry and Lisa a bit further away than the others, insisting that their scenes together be absolutely perfect, and Malfoy had remained on the other side of the room with Binns and the entire rest of the cast. So Harry could suppose that the distance had something to do with his completely ignoring him. Thinking that this may be the case did make him feel a bit better, but Harry wasn't as much an optimist as he tried to be and too quickly he was back to thinking that he'd made Malfoy hate him again.

Trelawney interrupted his rather bland performance, going on and on about romance and tragedy and a few other things Harry paid no attention to. The thought that Malfoy might hate him was surprisingly painful, and not just because he was nursing a crush on the other boy. He could never be called friendly, but Harry had seen a side of Draco Malfoy that he'd never been privy to before, a side that was funny and gentle and a little obsessed with chocolate. A side that snuck out after curfew to fly in the night. "So that's who you've been spending your Tuesdays with," a voice near him observed softly. "I'll admit to having been more than a little curious."

Harry felt his eyes widen and his heart stop beating for a moment, a sure sign that panic was seconds from taking over. He turned to look at Lisa, thankful at least that Trelawney had moved across the room to discuss something or other with Binns. "Wha-" he cleared his throat and tried again. "What do you mean?"

The look she gave him then told him that there was no point in playing dumb. "I'm a Ravenclaw, Harry," she explained, as if he didn't already know. "It's a hobby of mine to find out things I'm curious about, and even a blind man could see that you're not at all interested in reciting these lines with me." She shook her head and looked back over at Malfoy, who was currently practicing his lines with Seamus. "If your quick improvement is one, your sudden preoccupation with Malfoy is two, and this niggling suspicion I have that you're thinking about someone else when you say these words of love with me is three, well, I know how to get six," Lisa laughed.

The Ravenclaw girl was just entirely too smart for Harry's comfort. "You can't... I mean, please don't..." Harry couldn't finish and his blush rose to take over his face with the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment.

"I'm not going to tell, if that's what you're getting at," Lisa said, an offended tone in the words, and crossed her arms over her chest. "It isn't my business, for one thing. Really, is your opinion of me so low?"

Harry shook his head. "Of course not," he managed, pulling nervously at a lock of hair hanging in front of his ear. "It's just...ugh. It's hard to explain," he finished, the words sounding lame even to himself.

But Lisa seemed to understand what he meant, even when he was expressing himself so poorly. "I get it. You're supposed to be rivals after all, besides being both boys. But just so you know, people are more accepting than you think. And it's obvious something happened between the two of you recently." She waved a hand in Malfoy's direction.

"Really?" Harry moaned. Had other people noticed, or was it only Lisa who seemed so gifted? Harry really hoped it was only Lisa.

Lisa nodded. "Well, it is to someone who's been spending as much time with you lately as I have. You are definitely out of sorts today. And you know, the only sensible thing is to talk it out. I really believe there isn't a problem you can't solve if you work on it together." It was clear to Harry that she wasn't talking about him anymore, but rather about her beloved boyfriend in Hogsmeade. Even so, maybe the girl had the right of it. Instead of just waiting for Malfoy to come to him, Harry should do the Gryffindor thing, as Seamus had once demanded he do, and face the issue head on.

But even after coming to this decision, Harry found himself unable to carry through. Malfoy was avoiding him. The other boy wouldn't even look at Harry long enough for him to ask if their lesson was still on schedule for tomorrow. So Harry spent all of Tuesday redirecting Hermione's curiosity to Ron, who he was sure appreciated the attention she paid to his Montague costumes, while waiting impatiently for that evening.

But when he arrived, the room was empty. Harry spun around again, checking under the desk, not because he seriously believed that Malfoy might actually be hiding there, but rather because he didn't want to believe that he'd forced the other boy away. "What are you doing?" The coolly asked questioned startled Harry enough that he hit his head on the bottom of the desk and he let out a curse as tears filled his eyes. How did Malfoy always manage to catch him at his worst?

It took a moment before Harry could form a suitable answer in his mind, and when he finally stood, Malfoy didn't seem to even want one anymore. He tossed a rapier at Harry, who immediately recognized it as one of the ones that Hermione and Ron had so painstakingly dulled only weeks before. "Lift your sword," he ordered, holding his own aloft.

Harry blinked a few times, looking between Malfoy and the sword in his hand. Standing there, feet spread, one hand behind his back and eyes narrowed with determination, Harry couldn't help but stare at the fierce figure Malfoy presented. If he wasn't already sure he had a crush on the boy, just seeing that might have done the trick. "What's all this?" he finally managed to squeak past his shock.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but never dropped his guard as he explained, in a tone one might use when dealing with a five year old, "Romeo and Tybalt are going to fight. Isn't it best if you learn how to at least look like you know how?" Harry blushed and moved to mimic Malfoy's position. Of course that's what this was about. The clang of Malfoy's rapier striking his came as a surprise, and the vibrations traveling through the sword nearly numbed his entire arm. "Focus, Potter," Malfoy demanded, and Harry muttered a curse as he dodged another attack. "You're not going to learn anything if you don't strike back."

Harry nodded, lifting his sword to block Malfoy's. It hurt, and Malfoy's eyes were narrowed, as if in anger. It hit Harry only then. Malfoy was being serious. It wasn't some kind of practice but revenge. He really was angry about that kiss and he wasn't going to let Harry explain. He managed to block a few more strikes before his foot caught on a desk leg and his eyes widened as he fell, hands flailing out.

Malfoy's hand moved with lightening speed, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him forward. Harry barely registered his sword clinking to the stone floor. There were more interesting things to focus on. Like Malfoy's arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, holding Harry close to his chest. Or Malfoy's hand gripped around his wrist so that Harry was sure there would be finger-shaped bruises the next day.

Or Malfoy's mouth, pressed against his as if it was made to fit. That taste, that he'd only gotten a sample of two days ago, remarkably subtle and yet somehow overpowering to all his senses, invading and implanting on his memory a stamp that said in all capitals: MALFOY.

And Malfoy, releasing him so suddenly and smiling down at him as he stumbled back, his legs unable to support him so that it took the rest of his strength to sit in the nearest desk. "And now we're even, Potter," Malfoy drawled, and Harry hated that his voice was so calm, especially since he knew, had he tried to speak at that moment, he'd be lucky if he could manage a squeak. But the Slytherin knelt, picking up Harry's discarded sword and dropping it on the teacher's desk with his own before striding out the room with measured steps.

Harry watched the door for a moment, half-hoping he'd come back. Then, crossing his arms on the desk, he let his head drop, fighting back the trembling that slowly took over his entire being. It was like Malfoy's kiss had electrified every individual cell in his body and Harry couldn't find himself regretting it, even if Malfoy hadn't meant it.

It was a good thing he was a Gryffindor, because no other house in Hogwarts would tolerate the sheer stupidity that forced the whisper in Harry's mind, not the boa's voice, or any other number of unreasonable voices that tempted him from time to time, but his own. Loud, and clear and 110% certain.

I want more.

And Harry couldn't deny it.

A/N: So was that good? Let me know! And for those who did so on my last chapter, I give you sparkly-Valentine shaped thanks! Thanks to LyricallyInspired, LIGHTNSHADOWS, purplerawr, SunshineAndDaisies, Ibbet, Lady-Umbreon, HiM'e'iTSu, AnimeFreak2468, SexySpeedDemon, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, DMbranolaHP, brionyjae, AlineDaryen, Horseygirl7, and DarkWiccanPrincess. I wasn't lazy! Point for me! Heh. Happy Valentine's Day!