Harry Potter, in all his eighteen years of life, had never met anyone nearly as frustrating as Draco Malfoy. In their youth, the relationship had been simple: they were rivals, but since the beginning of the war, things had gotten substantially more complicated. He'd seen him be kind and thoughtful, but he also had a tendency to expect the worst and act accordingly. The man was the very essence of Slytherin, seductive and calculating as a viper, so when Draco grabbed him by the neck and kissed him, Harry was slightly wary of an ulterior motive. All thoughts of conspiracy left him, though, once Draco really started kissing him. Harry wasn't the most accomplished guy in their year sexually (that would be Seamus, a self-identifying slut). Between Ginny's shy kisses and Cho's tears, his kissing experience was very limited, but he knew that he had never been kissed like this before. He wondered briefly if kissing all men would feel like this or Draco was just something special, but he suspected it was the latter. After a moment of shocked stillness, Harry responded in kind, kissing Draco as though he was a starving man and only Draco could sustain him. Harry vaguely wondered at how un-Slytherin a kisser he was, fire and teeth and sexsexsex. Harry felt like he'd been drugged, so wantonly was he responding to Draco's hand on his neck and lips on his.
He turned them around and backed Draco into one of the many hidden alcoves along the Hogwarts hallways, wanting to keep this development private from prying eyes. His hand came up to run his hand up Draco's jaw, fingers trailing up a stubble-free cheek before coming into contact with the softest hair he's ever felt. He felt a jolt straight to his cock as Draco's long-fingered hand tangled into his own messy, black hair and pulled.
'Holy shite,' thought Harry, who felt vaguely as though he were under some variation of the Cruciatus, but instead of pain, he felt unimaginable pleasure coursing through him, jolts of electricity coursing through him from every spot that Draco touched. The Slytherin's other hand was moving up and down Harry's back, getting closer and closer to his arse, eventually finding purchase on his hip, squeezing lightly. He vaguely realized that while Draco was the first boy he'd ever kissed, he almost surely wasn't Draco's. No one could be this skilled without practice. Harry briefly lamented his own lack of experience, which undoubtedly made his kissing pale in comparison. He had to bite his lip to stifle his moan when Draco moved from kissing his lips down to his neck, his fine hair brushing wonderfully against his throat as Draco found a spot (the same spot, incidentally, that Draco had pressed his wand to) that made Harry's vision go hazy, his knees buckle, and his mind go blank.
They stayed like that for over an hour, no longer the Chosen one and a Death Eater, or Gryffindor and Slytherin. They became nothing more special than two teenage boys finding pleasure in each other's arms, clumsily exploring each other's bodies with hands and lips, quiet breathy gasps creating a symphony that only further spurred on their lust. When the bell rang again, signaling a change in class, they separated quickly, both jumping back and staring deep into each other's wide eyes. Both boys had flushed cheeks, red, swollen lips letting loose ragged breaths. Harry wondered at Draco's face, open for perhaps the first time in the eight years that Harry had known him. He had gotten a glimpse of it on Saturday, a flash of vulnerability, but now Harry had time to savor it, and he was not disappointed by what he found there.
Draco's eyes, normally a hard, icy blue, were molten pools of blue grey, like a sky after a storm. Harry briefly marveled at the depth he found in the other boy's gaze, finding answers to questions that he had never dared to ask. From this close, Harry could see that Draco had freckles on the bridge of his nose, not nearly as dark as the Weasleys, but they were there nonetheless. Harry thought that they were adorable, though he would never admit it to Draco, lest he offend the boy. The planes of his cheeks were pink with lack of air and perhaps embarrassment, and his eyelashes, slightly darker than his hair, were so long they reached the top of his eyelids. In short: Draco was the most beautiful person that Harry had ever seen, and now that he had been made privy to even a small portion of what Draco had to offer, there was no way he'd be letting go without a fight.
Their heated gaze was broken by the sound of classroom doors opening and students beginning to fill the halls. Knowing that he would be spotted soon by Ron or Hermione, Harry leaned in again and grabbed Draco's chin, forcing eye contact. He kissed the Slytherin chastely and whispered, "Meet me at 11 tonight by the Room of Requirement?"
Draco's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, which confused Harry. Did he want this to be a one-off or think that Harry wouldn't want to talk about what had just transpired? Was Draco's opinion of him so low that he thought that Harry would do something as lewd as this without giving a thought to his partner's feelings? The thought was depressing. He had really thought that this was a sign that Draco felt the same as him, but now he wasn't sure. Draco's face quickly closed off again, his perfect mask hardening his features, still beautiful, but now in a sharp, unforgiving way, reminding Harry of the boy he had grown up with. He looked at Harry for another moment, straightened his robes, and exited the alcove, only turning back to hiss "Wait a minute before you leave so people don't see us together. It wouldn't do to have the Chosen One and the Death Eater mingling."
As he eventually went to find his friends, Harry thought about those liquid blue-grey pools, coupled with the smell of Draco's cologne and the feel of his silken hair brushing along Harry's cheek. He had expected the courtship to be complex, and this development proved him right. It seemed like the best way to get an honest reaction out of his intended was to catch him off-guard. Once given time to prepare, Draco had a tendency to leave Harry feeling powerless and in the quest for the Slytherin's heart, Harry had to assert his dominance, lest Draco believe him to be a pushover.
Brushing off questions about where he had been (he complained of feeling faint, which wasn't uncommon after one of him magic release sessions), Harry allowed him mind to return to Draco. He had less than 8 hours before his rendezvous with the other boy, and he would have to wait for Ron and Hermione to sneak off before leaving to head towards their meeting point. Luckily, he had named the Room of Requirement, which would provide everything he needed to assist in his wooing. Picking at his hem absently, Harry smiled; tonight would be interesting indeed.