A/N: AU Sixth Year, but also a bit of tweaking to Fifth Year canon as well. In this fic, the Malfoys defected from Voldemort and went into hiding during Fifth Year and Draco wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

While there's nothing particularly warning-worthy in this fic, things get a bit heavier as we go along, including bullying-there will be lots of fluff and angst!

Also, for story-purposes, this fic imagines that Harry, Hermione, and Dean are the only Gryffindors in their year that grew up in the Muggle world.

I hope you enjoy!

Dripping with pink goo, trying to pull his sticky wrist from Draco's slippery grip to get in another punch to the blond's face, Harry was perfectly aware that he was about to be in an epic amount of trouble. Even aside from the girls who were shrieking about their hair having been singed shorter in places, the fact that the back two lab stations were now in flaming pieces would have clued him into the fact that Snape would be pissed.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have thrown a handful of newt eyes at Draco after he'd been hit in the head with that toad liver, but Draco had been slyly tossing things at Harry for days and Harry kept getting points docked from Gryffindor for it. Something about that slimy thing smacking his head and Draco's smug expression had been the last straw…which was why he had Draco pinned to the floor and was trying his best to wipe that smirk off his face with his fists.

"ENOUGH!" came a furious roar before he was yanked off of the prissy Slytherin. Harry found himself facing a livid Potions master, worse than he'd ever seen the man. "I have had ENOUGH with BOTH of you! Detention, for the rest of the semester!"

"Both of us?" Draco scrambled to his feet. "Potter started it! He attacked me! Like some wild animal!"

"I don't want to hear one more word! You two have destroyed my classroom with your immature bickering and I won't stand for it anymore! And yes, Draco, detention for both of you."

Draco gaped.

At least this time, Draco had gone down with him.

#

It only hit Harry the next night that Draco going down with him meant that they'd be trapped together in detention every night for the remainder of the term.

The two stood, arms crossed and seething as Snape dropped a bucket of soapy water on the front table, their wands sticking out mockingly from the potion master's pocket.

"You have wasted your own time, you will not waste mine. I expect your list of tasks to be done by the time I return. If there is any misbehavior, which I will know about, I will not hesitate to condemn you to cleaning out every cell in the dungeons with your personal toothbrushes on repeat for the rest of your natural born lives, am I understood?"

The two teenagers nodded stiffly.

Snape's voice raised. "Am I understood?"

"Yessir," they both muttered.

Snape swept from the room, door slamming behind him.

"I hate you," Draco declared matter-of-factly before heading to Snape's desk and plopping down in the comfortable chair.

"What are you doing?" Harry snapped.

"Washing the walls? Scraping goo off the ceiling? Please. That grunt work is much more suited for someone with your level of class, Potter." He folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on the desk.

Harry glared at him and dipped a rag in the soapy water. He sauntered over to the smirking blond and, with a smile, rung the rag out over his lap.

Draco whipped his legs off the desk, trying to brush off the excess with his hands. "Do you know how much these trousers cost?"

"Get off your arse and help because I'm not working double time and this needs to get done or we don't get to leave." Harry climbed up on the desk to scrub a pink spot on the ceiling.

"I'm not suited for manual labor, thank you. You just go on and if you do a nice job, I'll tip you at the end." Draco opened up a drawer with bored curiosity.

"You're such a spoiled brat." Harry crouched down to dunk the rag again. "If you had to fend for yourself, you'd die in a week, surrounded by your own filth."

"How is that, Potter, being constantly surrounded by filth?" Draco asked innocently.

Harry met his gaze. "Bearable. I do get breaks from you now and then."

"Your jealousy of me is quite sad, Potter."

Harry snorted. "Jealous of what? The stick lodged up your arse?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Why Potter, are you wishing you were a stick up my arse? Is all of this just your Gryffindor way of flirting?"

Harry sputtered and his face went very red. "What? Oh my God, Malfoy."

Draco laughed, now watching Harry with a curious expression. "You just went as pink as a first year. Is that because it's true or are you that prude?"

Harry glared, looking flustered. "You're disgusting."

Draco tossed a paperweight in the air and caught it. "So you can adjust your fantasies, I typically prefer things the other way around."

Harry's cleaning slowed as he puzzled out what Draco meant. Then, Harry's eyes went wide.

Draco laughed. "Prude, then. A new layer to how incredibly boring you are, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco didn't help for the rest of the allotted time, but when Snape got back and realized only half the work was done, he informed them that they would only be let out when it was complete. Harry ended up doing the second half of the work as well while Draco whined and moodily searched through the drawers Snape didn't have warded.

#

After a couple days of staying double time, Draco finally decided to pitch in with sorting potions ingredients. "It's only because I can't stand the extended time in your presence."

Harry squinted at a label on a dark jar before placing it down in his lineup. "You don't have to justify getting off your lazy arse."

"Your voice is grating on my nerves. Can you just shut up for the rest of these detentions?" Draco ground out.

Harry almost argued, but honestly, silence sounded a lot more tolerable. "Fine. You stay quiet, I'll stay quiet."

So began eleven days of silence.

At first, it was filled with glares and harsh shoulder bumps while shoving past each other, but eventually, they both seemed to grow tired of it. Harry lost himself in thoughts of all the things he could be doing instead. Flying. Hanging out with Ron and Hermione if they weren't busy making out. Even doing homework started to sound appealing. At least then he wouldn't have to stay up so late to get it done after scrubbing cauldrons for an hour.

Eventually, Harry was just bored. He almost wished Snape would assign them something weird to do, like rearrange all the potions ingredients by levels of creepiness (Harry already picked out the first jar—something that looked a bit like a rotten cabbage but with seven open, unblinking eyes) or maybe to brew some insane potion.

He suspected Draco was bored too if the long-suffering sighs and groans were anything to go by. Occasionally, he would open his mouth, but then seemed to remember who he would be talking to and shut it.

Harry started to hope he would just say something to break the monotony.

Finally, one day, it happened. They were on their knees scrubbing up some stubborn splatter from an exploded potion. It had the consistency of half-dried glue.

"This looks like something you would do, Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Explode a potion?"

"Botch it so badly it's basically become toxic troll snot."

Harry stared at him a long moment. "That's all you've got?" He was actually a bit disappointed.

"Fuck off," Draco muttered, but did look a little embarrassed.

There was another long silence. "Remember when that troll got in first year?" Harry said, more to himself than anything. The comment about troll snot had reminded him of it. "Sometimes this place is bloody weird."

Draco snorted. "No kidding. Aside from the number of near-deaths each year, the general decision-making of the adults around here is highly questionable if you ask me. Why on earth did Hagrid take us into the Forbidden Forest for detention first year? I really did not need to see some disembodied form of You Know Who draining the life from a unicorn."

Harry wanted to defend Hagrid, but…Draco wasn't wrong exactly. That had been terrible to see. And now that Harry knew more about what kinds of things lived in the Forbidden Forest, it really didn't seem like the best place to bring a group of eleven-year-olds. "What about Filch? Why does he even work here? If no one were around to stop him, I'm pretty sure he'd commit horrible crimes against the students for fun. There are really no other applicants who don't daydream about flogging students?"

"Yeah, I can't tell if he's a bit pervy about it. I mean, he talks about chains and whips a lot for a man who works around a bunch of kids."

"My god, Malfoy, ugh!"

Malfoy laughed. "Come on, Potter, you were thinking it."

"I was definitely not!"

"Only because you're so prude." He side-eyed Harry. "You're thinking it now, though, aren't you?"

Harry knew the look on his face must have been disturbed. "He once said he wanted to put me in manacles and teach me some manners."

Draco threw his head back and laughed and Harry couldn't help but smile a little.

An hour later, they were bickering over the "floating head" incident from third year.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said, but with a smirk Draco didn't miss.

"Potter, I swear, I'm going to put you in some manacles and teach you some manners."

Harry threw a rag at him.

"I don't get how people are so scared of the Shrieking Shack when there are places like Madam Puddifoot's around," said Harry. "You want to talk about disturbing…"

"No kidding. Pansy dragged me there once to mock it. So frilly and pink. How much you want to bet that when night falls, those walls flip around to reveal glowing chains and it becomes an S&M club."

Harry couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. Draco looked smug at getting a laugh out of him.

Harry grinned slyly as he tried to chisel up a stubborn piece of slime. "Well, I guess Madam Puddifoot could be the type. She did seem rather stern."

Draco snorted. "Well thank Merlin, Potter, you're not so boring after all."

#

The potions storeroom was hot and cramped. They'd both already shed their robes, tossed their ties out onto desks, and rolled up their sleeves to their elbows, but Harry was still sweating in his button-down shirt. He'd tried to show up to detention in a t-shirt and jeans, which had seemed a lot more practical for cleaning, but Snape had called him a disrespectful slob and assigned him an extra hour, so he hadn't dared to since. Surprisingly, even Draco had griped about Snape's ridiculous dress code when there was so much cleaning involved.

"Who would be more likely to carry on an illicit love affair," Draco posed, "McGonagall and Dumbledore or McGonagall and Flitwick?"

"Trick question. It's Dumbledore and Flitwick," Harry said without missing a beat.

Draco laughed and almost dropped a box filled with beakers.

Harry rushed over and grabbed the other end. Together, they hefted it onto the top shelf of the storeroom.

Their sides brushed. It startled Harry so much, he almost dropped his side of the box.

"You alright?" Draco asked with a judgmental raise of the eyebrow.

"Fine," Harry muttered. He wasn't about to say that he wasn't used to being touched. He'd gotten used to brushes on the arms in crowded hallways and he didn't flinch anymore when his housemates flung arms over his shoulders, but sometimes he was still caught by surprise. He hated that it always made Hermione look at him like he was some sad, affection-starved orphan.

He hated even more that it always made Ron comment that Harry really needed to get laid or at least find someone to make out with. And if Hermione overheard that, she'd go on an embarrassing lecture about how Ron shouldn't push Harry into something he wasn't comfortable with and how she was sure Harry would find someone when he was ready. It made Harry want to sink into the ground.

But the other day, Ron had gone off about it again. "Just someone to snog at least, mate. Everyone in our dorm is shagging except for Neville—"

Harry had raised an eyebrow at that. Neville was dating Ginny and they were definitely shagging, but Ron had shook his head sharply.

"Except Neville because I refuse to believe otherwise. You haven't even gotten to experience someone else's tongue in your mouth. Aren't you wondering what you're missing?"

And in that moment, an image of Draco Malfoy's tongue in his mouth had popped straight into Harry's head. He'd almost choked.

But now, even as Draco was painting a frankly terrifying image of Flitwick toying with Dumbledore's beard, Harry was watching his mouth and wondering, just a little, what his lips would feel like.

Draco suddenly quirked his head. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Harry jerked. "What? I'm not."

Draco gave Harry an odd look, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Right… Something on your mind, Potts?"

Harry was already looking anywhere but Draco. It didn't mean anything. It was just that Draco always managed to bring their conversations around to sex jokes and innuendo. That sort of thing usually made Harry very uncomfortable and his housemates knew it. He thought they had more fun watching him squirm than from the jokes themselves and he hated it.

But with Draco, Harry felt like he was in on it; like Draco thought Harry could be funny and mischievous too.

So it made sense that Harry's mind was confused. He just had to…course correct. There were definitely conversation topics that wouldn't make him think about how Draco's chest looked when he was hefting around boxes and what that chest might feel like pressed against Harry's. "Have you heard about the new Lightning Strike? It's supposed to be better than the Firebolt with pulling out of dives."

But Draco was strutting over with a knowing smirk Harry didn't like at all. He helped Harry lift the last box onto a high shelf. They were close together again, sides brushing, but this time, Draco was looking right at him. Harry tried to fix his gaze anywhere but his mouth.

Draco arched an eyebrow, looking way too amused for Harry's liking. "Something getting you a bit bothered, Potts?"

"No. It's just bloody hot in here."

Draco still looked like the bloody cat that got the cream. "It is hot in here, isn't it. Especially with us working in such close quarters. We're practically pressed up against each other. Practically sweating on each other."

Harry knew his face was blushing because every time it went suddenly hot like this, Seamus pointed at him and laughed. He turned quickly away, grabbing the piece of parchment with their list of tasks. "Done with the boxes, so we can get out of here."

"You sure you want out of here?"

Harry blinked at Draco. He suddenly seemed rather close.

Merlin, he was staring at his mouth again. And Draco looked ready to laugh at him over it.

Embarrassment brought him down fast. He hated being laughed at for stuff like this. "Which do you want, scraping gum off the desks or polishing the stirrers?"

"Potter…"

Harry grabbed the polish and the scraper off the shelves and held them out.

Draco's nose crinkled. "Not the gum. I am not touching anything that has been chewed on by students."

Harry shrugged. "The stirrers have probably also been chewed on by students."

Draco cringed.

Harry grabbed the polish off the shelf and held it out to Draco.

Harry held the polish out. When Draco pulled the tin from his hand, he did it slowly, his fingers trailing across Harry's palm.

Harry jerked his hand back. Draco was definitely making fun of him now. This was humiliating.

Harry grabbed up a bucket before marching back into the main room. Kneeling in front of a desk, he did a double take at the sheer amount of gum stuck to the underside of the lab stations. This was unsanitary. He poked at it with a scraper and found it was going to take a bit of muscle.

Draco wandered out of the storeroom, but didn't move toward the sink filled with dirty stirring rods. He leaned against Snape's desk, tapping a finger on the jar of polish.

Harry felt nervous and figured the best course of action to make things feel normal again was to babble about brooms. "I don't think an improvement to dives was that important for the Lightning Strike. The Firebolt's perfectly fine on that front if you ask me."

"I wouldn't know."

Oh. Right. An offer for Draco to borrow it was on the tip of his tongue, but Draco cut him off before Harry could decide whether that was a terrible idea.

"Potts, I'm done with conversation about Quidditch. Let's talk about something we both actually want to know."

Harry looked at him warily. "What's that?"

"Our sex lives, of course," Draco grinned.

Harry's scalpel slipped and gouged out a chunk of the desk, which clattered loudly into the metal bucket. Draco arched an eyebrow at him. "Er, I like talking about Quidditch, thanks."

"Oh don't get all noble and discreet on me. I guarantee whoever you've shagged in the past has told all his or her little friends about it."

"I'm not talking about this."

There wasn't a hint of discouragement on Draco's face. "Fine, we'll ease into it. Are you into the ladies or the lads?"

"You can't just…ask people that," Harry said faintly.

"You can't? Why on earth not?"

Harry sputtered. "It's private."

Draco tilted his head, then burst out laughing. "Potter, how are people supposed to know if they have a chance with you if you keep your preferences a mystery?"

This was quite overwhelming. Harry did understand, intellectually, that the wizarding world didn't have the same hang-ups about sexuality as the Muggle-world, culturally speaking, but while Hermione and Dean seemed to get comfortable with it all around fifth year when they'd started dating Ron and Seamus respectively, Harry hadn't quite gotten there.

Then again, Witch Weekly had published a poll about which way Harry swung toward the beginning of fifth year, so it wasn't an entirely fair comparison. His classmates got to figure this all out without it all being splashed across a magazine.

Draco kept talking. "I like both myself, but with a definite lean toward the male folk. It's so much easier with blokes. You both know that shagging's on the menu, no dancing around the subject, you know?"

Harry answered with a noncommittal noise, trying to appear preoccupied with his chore. "Those stirring rods aren't going to clean themselves, you know."

Draco ignored him as he often did when Harry made pointed comments about their detention tasks. "Blokes just understand each other better in bed. And they're more ready to just get down to it. I appreciate the honesty there."

"Not all blokes."

"Yeah, but who wants to waste time on virgins?" Draco scoffed. "Let's face it, if they're still virgins at this point, there's a reason."

Harry wondered if he could somehow kill himself with the gum scraper before having to endure the humiliation barreling toward him with the speed of the Hogwarts Express. "You ever think maybe some people want it to be with someone they care about?"

Draco laughed. "I assume you're talking about the Hufflepuffs. I doubt half of them even know where babies come from."

Harry glared at the gum on the underside of the desk.

"You're just being nice, right? You're not actually into virgins, right? Have you slept with a virgin? They just lie there and get scared and afterward they cling to you like a curse."

"Can we change the subject?" Harry asked irritably.

"You don't have to be the sexual guinea pig for the school's rejects out of some warped sense of nobility, Potter. You've earned your noble points in other ways." Draco smirked. "You deserve someone who knows how to make you moan."

Harry nearly swallowed his tongue, but he collected himself quickly. "You seem to know a lot about it."

Draco smirked devilishly. "Yes. I know a lot about it."

"How many people have you slept with?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Draco launched into his sexual history without an ounce of self-consciousness. It had all started with Pansy Parkinson, apparently. They'd experimented together a lot early on. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had also played grand roles in Draco's sexual explorations. But he'd had plenty of flings with Slytherins from different years and a bunch of Ravenclaws. He had stories from hookups at parties to sneaking out of class to shag a Ravenclaw in the prefect's bathroom.

By the end, Harry was gaping at the blond, gum forgotten.

"Impressed?" Draco asked smugly.

"Is this all you do? How do you have time for anything else? Do you even go to quidditch practice?"

Draco laughed. "Don't look so scandalized, Potter, we both know you'd do it just as much if you didn't have to worry about fighting evil all the time. Or…maybe you already do make the time."

Harry's face burned.

"I knew it!" Draco pointed at him with an accusing finger. "You're just a low-key playboy, aren't you? You've done a frustratingly good job of keeping your sex life under cover. Let me guess, you only sleep with Hufflepuffs who wouldn't dream of exploiting their lovers or Gryffindors who you give you their honorable vow of silence."

Harry just glared at him.

"Come on Potts, I told you mine!" Draco whined.

"You offered up that information on your own. That was pure bragging."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll compromise. I'll guess and you can just confirm or deny."

"I will not."

"I'll see it in your face either way because you have absolutely no ability to hide what you're thinking."

"Draco…"

"First guess, you and the Weasel."

Harry shook his head quickly. "Ginny's like a sister to me." He had been very relieved when Ginny had started dating Neville last year. Mrs. Weasley still sometimes shot the two of them desperate looks when Ginny mentioned Neville, like she was frantically wondering how on earth Harry was supposed to marry into the family now.

"That's the Weaslette. I'm talking about the Weasel. Your best friend?" Draco pressed, apparently unwilling to use his actual name.

"Ron?" Harry asked, a bit taken aback. He blushed. "No! It's Ron! And he's fancied Hermione forever!"

Draco relaxed into Snape's chair, swiveling this way and that. "But you've thought about it."

"He's my best friend," Harry insisted, but Draco pinned him with a knowing look. Harry cleared his throat and worked at a piece of gum. "So, maybe I've thought about it before. It doesn't mean anything."

"Ha, I knew you were into guys. So coy, Potter, and yet, so bad at subterfuge."

Harry's face flamed. "Well, that was a long time ago. I don't think about Ron like that anymore."

"Good!"

Harry's brow scrunched. "Good? Why good?"

"You and Weasley would be a terrible fit."

Harry lowered the gum scraper, feeling uncertain if he wanted Draco to expand on that more. He suspected nothing complimentary would come out of that explanation. But eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. "Why?"

"Granger is a good match for him. She'll scare him into being good in bed. Probably give him a study organizer. But you?" Draco looked oddly serious. "He'd take complete advantage."

Now Harry was actually confused. "What are you talking about?"

"All that barely-repressed jealousy of you… He'd turn it into a power play with all the focus on making him feel good. And you'd let him."

"Hey!" Harry spluttered, unsure whether he was more offended for Ron or for himself. "Ron's not like that. I'm not like that."

"Come on, Potter. Sure, when serious stuff is going down, you're the center of attention, but every day stuff? You shine all your attention on Weasley. You do everything you can to make him feel good and he basks in being the star of your world. I never see him going out of his way to make you feel good. Because he thinks you already have enough of that from being famous. Think about that dynamic in bed!"

Harry wanted to protest, but what Draco was saying felt a little truer than Harry wanted to admit. It wasn't as grim as Draco was painting it. Harry didn't like attention and Ron wanted it so badly. And, okay, maybe Harry had always tried a little bit harder in their friendship. Ron had been his first friend and Harry had been so desperate not to lose that, he'd begged the hat not to put him in Slytherin, knowing Ron wouldn't be his friend if he got sorted there.

And if he was honest, he'd let Ron get away with some bad behavior, like in fourth year when he hadn't even made Ron apologize for abandoning him.

So maybe, just maybe, Harry could picture what Draco was saying.

But he certainly wasn't going to admit that. "You're wrong."

Draco smirked. "How are you so sure if you haven't slept with him?"

"How are you so sure if you haven't slept with him?" Harry shot back.

"I am a very good judge of sexual character, Potter."

Harry gave up on scraping gum. He tossed the scraper in the bucket and stood, crossing his arms. "And you think my sexual character is to be some pushover?"

The blond looked at him up and down with a quirked pucker of the mouth, as though appraising him. "Not necessarily a pushover. Not with the right person. Sure, your first concern would be making sure your partner was having a good time, hero complex and all that, but that's a good thing, Potter. You'd sacrifice speed and a quick getting off for making sure you did it right. And the right partner, one who can challenge you in the right way, would trigger that competitive streak of yours. That's when you'd be at your best. That's when you'd have the sex neither of you would be able to get enough of."

Okay, Harry had no idea how to react to that. He'd only ever imagined himself as awkward and nervous in bed, but the picture Draco had painted...was Draco really a good judge of sexual character? And was Harry just imagining that the partner Draco was describing sounded a lot like himself?

Draco hopped out of Snape's chair and sauntered over. Harry leaned back against the table, watching Draco unsurely.

Draco stepped right up to him, so their bodies were almost touching. He ran a finger down Harry's cheek. "So am I right?"

Harry's heart thudded so hard, his head swam. "I don't know."

Draco's gray eyes met his. "Well, why don't we find out?"

Suddenly, Draco's lips were brushing against his and there was a hand undoing the button on his trousers.

Harry grabbed the hand at his trousers and blurted, "I'm a virgin," right into Draco's face.

There was a long, thick silence.

Draco pulled back, brow scrunched like he was trying to get the joke. "What? No you aren't. You're Harry Potter."

Harry looked at him helplessly.

"You're bloody joking." Draco stepped back to search Harry's face.

Then, his expression changed, mouth dropping open in disbelief. "You're famous. You've saved the school and help the helpless and all that. You have to have people crawling over each other to get into your bed. You cannot really be that much of a saint."

Harry felt his heart go back to normal as he crashed back to reality. Harry met Draco's incredulous gaze with a defiant jut of the chin. "Can we go back to talking about Quidditch?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, stunned. "So you're saying you have not gotten past…past what? Blow jobs?"

Harry wondered if it was actually possible to die of embarrassment. "I haven't done that either."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What exactly have you done?"

Harry sighed. "I've kissed."

"You've kissed people?" Draco asked in horror.

"I've kissed one person, one time," Harry clarified, annoyed.

"Was there at least tongue?"

"No," Harry huffed.

Draco stared at him for a few moments before bursting into head-thrown-back laughter.

Harry started to storm passed him, but Draco grabbed his arm. "You're fucking with me, right? You're not serious."

Harry glared at him hard. "Go ahead, just say what you want to say."

"Potter, I don't even know where to begin! Please tell me you're not waiting until marriage."

"No."

"Then why?" Draco seemed genuinely confused.

Harry threw his arms up. "Because nobody's been interested, alright?"

"I don't believe that for one second."

"Not in the way normal teenagers are interested in each other." Harry suddenly felt very tired. "So they could tell reporters all about how they shagged the Boy Who Lived, yeah sure. But I'd rather not do any of it than have Slytherins quoting some article about how rubbish I am in bed every time I walk by."

Draco seemed lost for words, sagging against a desk.

Harry braced himself. He'd given Draco enough ammo to mock him until graduation.

"Do you seriously think that's the only reason people would want to shag you?"

Harry rubbed his hands over his face. "Have you been paying attention to anything over the last five and a half years?"

"And what makes you think you'd be rubbish?"

"Huh?"

"Your imaginary article about how you're rubbish in bed."

"I really don't know much about any of…" He waved a hand vaguely "…it. At this point, people would expect me to know stuff."

"So you're planning on staying a virgin forever?"

"No…maybe once I'm out of Hogwarts, if I ever get involved with a Muggle or something…"

"A Muggle?" Draco asked, completely aghast. "Potter, please. Don't say such horrible things. Now listen, I obviously have a no-virgins policy when it comes to sex, but we've got to at least get you partially caught up here!"

Harry stared at him blankly. "What?"

"We've got to get you going on the basics!" Draco exclaimed sounding scandalized.

Harry continued to stare.

Draco's mouth twitched. "Snogging, Potter. I'm talking about teaching you how to snog at the very least. We both agree I don't care about your stupid scar, right?"

"Yeah…" Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "But what's in it for you?"

"Merlin's beard, Potter, it's snogging, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage. I'm trying to help you so you don't make an arse of yourself when you try it for real. Do you understand how far behind you are?"

Harry did, actually, feel very behind.

Draco crossed his arms and looked amused. "So tell me about this kiss, then."

"It was under the mistletoe last year at Christmas time," Harry muttered.

"Aw, how romantic," Draco cooed. "Did you two hold hands and vow your eternal love?"

"Oh shut it," Harry grumbled.

"Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, Potter, a peck under the mistletoe? How vanilla can you get? Did you at least enjoy it?"

"Not really. She was crying over Cedric Diggory at the time." Harry frowned. "And what's vanilla?"

An expression crossed Draco's face like he'd just watched a puppy sneeze. "You are so naïve, Potter. Come here." Draco motioned for him to step forward.

Harry shook his head. "You're just doing this for a laugh."

"Potter, I was about to shag you on the Potions table a moment ago. There's a reason I don't believe nobody has approached you. You're rather tempting for a Gryffindor."

Harry practically choked. "Tempt—what? You always call me scarhead and make fun of my hair."

Draco scratched his chin. "Scarhead? That doesn't sound like me at all."

"Unbelievable."

"Oh Potter, just shut up." Draco grabbed the back of his head and pressed their lips together.

Harry stiffened, not totally able to believe he was kissing Draco Malfoy.

And to tell the truth, as he untensed a little, it was sort of nice. It was far better than kissing Cho and nobody was crying. He just wasn't very sure where to put his hands and was Draco licking Harry's lip? Should he lick him back?

Draco broke away and Harry bit his lip nervously, knowing he was about to get mocked for being so awful.

"Don't look so petrified, Potter. Just relax."

Harry took a deep breath. He gave Draco a nod to say that he was a bit calmer.

"Okay good. Now this time just open your mouth a bit."

Harry looked at him in confusion but hesitantly opened his mouth despite how odd the instructions seemed.

Draco adopted a look of surprise for a split second before bursting into laughter. He braced himself on Harry's shoulder, holding his stomach as he doubled over. Harry crossed his arms moodily, though he had to admit, it was strangely fascinating seeing Draco laugh in such a hard, unguarded way. If it hadn't been at his expense, he might have even found it endearing.

"Potter," he got out in between laughs, "you…"

"You're the one who told me to," Harry snapped.

"I know, I know." Draco took deep breaths and let them out through pursed lips to calm his laughing. "Okay, okay. Snogging isn't like a dental exam. When you're kissing someone, if one of you wants to deepen the kiss, one clue is that that person might lick the other's lip. Then, you open your mouth a bit, so either you can let their tongue in or you can get your tongue in their mouth. Merlin, Potter, you're so naïve it's incomprehensible. Let's try this again."

"No," Harry said firmly, "I feel like your bloody experiment. This is humiliating. I'd rather get back to what we're actually supposed to be doing." He grabbed the scraper and knelt down for better access to the underside of the desk. But before he could begin to scrape, Draco took his arm and gave a tug upward. Harry sighed and stood.

"I don't think you're ready for that quite yet," he said with a mischievous wink.

Harry gaped. "I was going to scrape tables!"

"I know. Come on, I won't mock you too much from now on." At Harry's stony expression, Draco continued. "You've got potential. And look at it this way. I already know how horrifyingly naïve you are, so you might as well let me teach you so it doesn't come out later when you're attempting to snog someone who doesn't understand."

Harry tapped the scraper thoughtfully on the table before setting it down with a sigh. "Fine."

"Good. Now stop looking at me as if I'm diseased and perk up a bit. I'm a bloody good kisser, you know."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, running a hand anxiously through his hair. He quickly tried to smooth it back down. He blinked in surprise when Draco caught his wrist.

"Will you stop fidgeting?"

Harry jerked his head in a stiff nod, freezing when Draco's hands moved down to his shoulders and squeezed.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked, trying to jerk away.

"Trying to make you relax you idiot. Now calm down," he commanded sternly as he massaged Harry's shoulders. "Breathe, Potter, I'm not going to attack you."

"Ha," Harry muttered, prompting the appearance of Draco's famous smirk.

The hands moved to the base of his neck, kneading the muscles there, and Harry couldn't help but give a sigh of contentment and lean heavily against the table. "I can't see you giving many people massages."

"Pansy's talked me into giving a couple to her in the past. She's scary when she's determined, but I've only succumbed under lost bets or blackmail."

Harry let out a small chuckle as Draco moved his thumbs up to his temples, pressing circles into them. "Mmm, well I guess I should feel lucky, then."

"Yes, you should." The hands stilled and Draco pressed his lips to Harry's, much more softly this time. One of his hands slipped around to Harry's lower back, pulling their bodies closer together.

Harry cautiously put a hand on Draco's shoulder. He felt Draco's tongue at his lips and thrilled slightly at knowing what that meant. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth, inhaling sharply as he felt the odd sensation of another tongue touching his own. Concentrating on what Draco was doing, Harry tried mirroring the motions, but the blond broke away just enough to say, in a near whisper, "You're doing good, Potts. Just relax. Instead of copying me, just go with what feels right to you."

Harry wasn't able to get a nod in before their lips were attached again. Draco's hand rubbed his back gently, and soon, instead of worrying about whether he was kissing correctly, Harry finally sank into it.

Draco's tongue was warm and firm and made something hot rushed through Harry, pooling low in his stomach. Draco pulled Harry tight to him and Draco's chest was solid against his. Harry clutched onto his robes. He'd never felt anything like this. All his thoughts drifted away and he just wanted to shove himself against Draco and keep their tongues battling forever.

Draco suddenly jerked away and pressed his rag to the table. Harry stumbled forward at the sudden loss.

A wave of humiliating rejection smacked Harry. But then, the door opened and Snape walked in. Harry grabbed his gum scraper and pretended to be picking a stuck piece of gum off it, hoping he wasn't blushing too obviously.

"What a surprise to find you simply standing around, Potter," Snape said dryly. "You two are dismissed."

The pair hurried to clean up their supplies and were out the door before Snape could express any annoyance at their delay.

Once in the hall with the door closed, Draco smirked at Harry. "See you tomorrow, Potter." He turned and strode confidently down the hall.

Harry walked back to his dorm in a daze. He had kissed Draco Malfoy. His fingers brushed his lips as if looking for proof that it had really happened.