It had been a full month since Harry Potter caught Draco Malfoy on the 7th floor, pacing across the hall where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy resided. He had prepared himself for a duel but shouting and spells being thrown somehow turned into snogging and skin—so much skin. He remembered every detail of it.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry had spat at the blonde wizard. Draco jumped and looked over to greet the Boy Who Lived with a deathly glare of his own.

"None of your damn business, Potter," Malfoy said.

Harry growled, "What, you've grown soft now that you don't have your minions around to throw punches for you?"

Malfoy flicked his wrist and threw a stunning spell toward Potter just as the Room of Requirement was opening to his wishes—opening to reveal the Room of Hidden Things. Harry narrowly dodged the spell and sprinted toward the door to slide in after Draco before he could be shut out. He had his wand up and was staring into the hard, grey eyes in front of him with disdain. "If you think you can get past me to whatever dodgy business you're up to, you can think again. I heard you and your friends talking on the train before term started and I know it was you that put Katie Bell in the hospital wing."

Draco's eyes softened for just a moment. Instead of answering he shot a jinx at his long time rival. Harry dodged it and threw another jinx back toward him. The duel went on for several rounds before the Chosen One knocked the Slytherin Prince on his arse. "You ready to talk, mate?"

Draco glared at him for what seemed like hours until, finally, he got to his feet and closed the distance between the two, crushing his lips to Potter's.

Harry pushed him away quickly. "What the fuck was that?" he asked, wiping his mouth. His wand was pointed at the blonde again, but not for long.

"Expelliarmus," Draco muttered before going in again to kiss the boy he had hated for years—or thought he hated. Harry didn't stop him again. His brain was telling him to stop. But he didn't. He kissed the wretched arsehole back.

Harry's heart beat heavily in his chest as he felt his lips part and Draco's eager tongue entered. The sensation sent a chill down his spine and a moan involuntarily left his mouth. He could feel Draco smirking against his mouth, the arrogant git.

Soon, Harry could feel a tightness in his own trousers. He could feel the tightness in Draco's pressed against his thigh. Subconsciously, he moved his hands to Draco's waist to free his thick length from his trousers and—

"Oi. Harry, wake up!" Ron's voice startled Harry and forced him to wake from his dream. Once again, he woke up having to hide his erection from his dreams of the night he and Draco…

He wasn't even sure how it had all started. He was sure the tension they built over the years was pure hatred not... that. Nevertheless, Harry knew he wanted more. The worst part? On one piece of wonderfully milky white skin was the mark of Lord Voldemort. Draco Malfoy was a bloody death eater.

"What the fuck do you want, Ron? I'm trying to sleep," Harry grumbled, trying to pull the comforter over his head and go back to the dream he knew he shouldn't be so eager to see again.

"It's Christmas morning, you git," Ron said, hitting his best friend over the head. "Get up. You have presents!"

Harry's eyes shot open. Christmas morning. How could he have forgotten? He sat up in bed, willing his mind to forget about his dream and think of Aunt Marge in too-small lingerie instead to force his erection to disappear. He grabbed the presents that lay in a small, neat pile at the end of his bed and opened the one he knew was from Mrs. Weasley.

"Another sweater," he said with a grin towards Ron, who was opening his own Weasley sweater. "Don't let me forget to send your mum a 'thank you' owl this year, Won Won."

"Very funny," Ron glared at him before returning to his own pile of wrapping and gifts.

There was the other usual gifts from people: practical study items from Hermione, some Quidditch trading cards from Ron, and something else…

There was a large box that had no label on it at all. Harry pulled the wrapping off and looked inside to see a plethora of sweets, some homemade and some from Honeyduke's. There was a small note sitting on top of the pile of sweets.

Meet me at RoR tonight. 11pm.

-DM

There was only one person DM could stand for…

XXXXXXXXXX

Later that night, Harry snuck out of Gryffindor tower and made his way to the 7th floor corridor where the Barnabas the Barmy tapestry was. He was the first one there and sat on the floor in front of the tapestry. Why had he come in the first place? And why would Malfoy even want to talk to him? They'd barely looked in the other's direction for a month. This whole setup was probably a trap to get Harry in detention anyway. He pulled out his map to check it just in case. Seeing that no teacher or prefect was around and Malfoy was just coming up the stairs into the corridor, the dark haired wizard quickly closed the map and put it away. He was just in time as his blonde counterpart came into view.

"Potter," the Slytherin prince said in greeting with a curt nod of his head.

"Malfoy," Harry said back. "What did you want to meet me for? We haven't spoken since—"

"Shh," Malfoy said rather loudly and looked around before lowering his voice to a whisper. "Not here, you git." He walked back and forth in front of the Banabas tapestry three times and, when the door appeared, nodded his head toward it before slipping inside. Harry followed silently.

"I wanted to talk to you about—Er—that night…" Draco said, unable to look the other boy in the eyes. Those beautiful, green eyes…

"Listen, we don't have to if you don't want to. It was bloody weird, wasn't it? We hate each other," said Harry, rather awkwardly. "We've always hated each other, right? Maybe someone slipped some sort of potion in our pumpkin juice at dinner as a prank…"

"Potter." Draco said. He glanced at the other wizard and sighed. "It wasn't a potion. We obviously don't… Hate each other… I just… I…" He groaned and dragged his hand down his long, pale face. This wasn't easy to talk about.

"I haven't been able to… To forget about it. You know?"

Harry stared at the Death Eater in front of him intently. Death Eater. Draco Malfoy was a fucking Death Eater.

"I don't fucking care Malfoy. It was a mistake," he said angrily, his famous Potter temper getting the best of him, once again. "Do you realize who I am? I'm the sworn bloody enemy of Lord Voldemort. And you are? You're a fucking Death Eater. You belong to him. Like a pet."

"Don't you fucking talk to me like that," Draco said with a melodramatic scoff. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough to know I want nothing to do with you," Harry shouted, "You're a fucking Death Eater."

"Yeah you said that already," Draco shouted back. There was fire in his grey orbs and it set something off in Harry. The boy who lived scoffed just as Draco had and leaned in to kiss the idiot Death Eater.

"I can't get you out of my head," Harry said in a much softer tone when he pulled away from the kiss. "But you're…"

"A fucking Death Eater. I got that part," Draco said with an eye roll and they both laughed. "Maybe I don't have to be… Maybe… Maybe I joined the wrong side…"

"Maybe I can help you."

"I doubt that, Potter," the Slytherin Prince sneered. "But maybe it wouldn't hurt to try."

The two day in silence for what seemed like ages. Neither knew what to say.

"So I'm guessing you don't hate me?" Harry asked.

Draco burst out laughing. It was the most musical sound and the most unlikely sound to ever come from Draco Malfoy's vocal chords.

"I guess I don't hate you."

"I don't hate you either."

There was more silence before the two started snogging once again. Snogging turned into groping, panting, shagging, fucking. All Harry could think about was how amazing it felt to watch that head of stupid, perfect hair suck his cock so freely.

After each of them had climaxed, they lay on the floor, catching their breath. Until finally, Malfoy spoke. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Harry responded," Are we a… a couple or something?"

"Hell no," Draco said with a chuckle.

"Just fucking then?" Harry asked again.

"Just fucking."

"You're still an arsehole, Malfoy."

"You're still a blithering idiot, Potter."

The two of them chuckled and somehow they both knew, hoped, and worried, that "just fucking" was going to turn into so much more and cause so many more problems...