Summary:In his final year at Hogwarts, Draco is just trying to keep his head down, win the House Cup, get good exam results and stay out of trouble. Most of all he wants to ignore Harry Potter completely. Which is easier said than done when Potter iseverywhereand behaving very strangely indeed….
It was September and the sky was filled with clouds. The floor was damp with rain and Draco cursed as his trunk caught in a puddle on the floor as he tugged it along, the muddy water splashing up onto his robes.
"Fuck."
"Need a hand?"
Draco turned to see Potter grinning at him and sniffed as he shook his hair from his eyes and dropped his trunk down onto the floor by the other trunks waiting to go up to the school. With a flick of his wand he cast a protective charm over it.
"From you? Hardly."
Harry moved towards Draco and fell into step next to him as they wandered to the boat to take them to Hogwarts. Draco felt the strangest desire to push him into the water and his hands itched to reach for his wand, but he resisted. He was supposed to keep his head down this year and stay out of trouble. It would hardly do to be seen attacking Boy Wonder on his first day back.
"How have you been?"
Draco looked at Potter with what he hoped was a suitably scathing expression and sniffed again as he sat gingerly in the boat and eyed an enthusiastic looking Hagrid with some trepidation.
"Mother and father have left England for the South of France. My father can only use limited magic now after the trial and the house elves have all been given socks thanks to the way Granger spent her summer. The Aurors have been crawling all over the Manor and I can't eat supper without thinking of the way Voldemort used to play with his…food…at the dinner table." Draco shuddered as he remembered and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before he flicked them open to look at Potter again. "Other than that, just dandy."
"Sounds like a pretty tough summer."
"Yes." Draco shrugged and then looked across at Potter. "I suppose you spent your Summer fighting off admirers and planning your wedding with the Weasleys? Or possibly you spent most of your time being given awards for being Harry Potter?"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "I might have been given an award or two, but I'm not getting married, Malfoy – bloody hell, I'm only eighteen – and which Weasley do you think I'm planning to marry anyway?"
Draco looked at Harry and saw the humour in his eyes and glared at him a bit because he was pretty sure Potter had been snogging Ginny for the last year and didn't think his assumption had been quite so ridiculous.
"Ginny, obviously."
"Nope – tricky to propose to someone you're not even seeing – tends not to go down too well, I hear."
Draco looked away as Harry laughed again and shrugged as he looked out at the wide expanse of water and the castle which loomed before them.
"Whatever, it's not as if I care."
"I suppose not."
The boat hit the side of the low beach and the students disembarked.
"This is us. See you around, Potter."
"Malfoy."
With a nod, Harry moved out of the boat and almost bounded onto the shore. Draco watched as he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled to Weasley and Granger who had just disembarked from the other boat, and he saw them turn and make their way to Potter. They all seemed to talk at the same time and then headed to the castle. With a sigh he moved from the boat and made his way to the school, as he muttered to himself.
"One more year – just one more year."
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"Nice broom, Malfoy."
Draco looked up with what he hoped was a suitably unimpressed sort of scowl, as he polished the handle of his new broom. Potter looked atrocious, as usual. His face was flushed and smeared with a streak of dirt, his Quidditch robes were ripped a little and his hair was all over the place. Draco snorted and wondered if anyone had ever told Potter that 'just shagged' hair went out of fashion about three seasons ago. He smirked at the thought of his own impeccable style, sleek and well-coiffed and practically screaming money.
"Bugger off, Potter."
Draco wasn't really sure how to respond to the 'nice broom' comment. He was quite tempted to jab it into Potter's ribs or to trip him with it, partly because it would be funny and also because Potter really irritated him with his stupid grinning face and hair which made Draco think of all the shagging he wasn't currently having.
"I'm just being friendly, you prat – it's not healthy to spend too much time alone polishing your broom – you should find someone to help you with that."
With a lewd sort of wink, Potter whistled and moved away as he stripped out of his Quidditch uniform and reached into his locker to grab some normal clothes. Draco tried not to watch as Potter raised his arms over his head and yawned. Not that he was looking but Draco was fairly sure Potter had just wiggled his arse. He glared back at his broom and felt his face heat and began to polish it more vigorously, determined not to look at Potter.
"You're the prat, not me."
It wasn't the wittiest response, but Draco didn't want Potter to turn around and start talking to him stark bollock naked, largely because that would be disgusting. He let out a huff of breath when he finally heard the shower start and flicked his eyes up to check that Potter's arse wasn't directly in his eye line anymore. With a roll of his eyes at the messy pile of Potter's clothes strewn out on the bench, he grabbed his things and left the changing rooms. He strode past a group of giggling Hufflepuffs with a sneer he had been practicing and was delighted to see them all looking suitably terrified.
Keeping himself to himself had worked so far. The first month of term had passed without event and although Hogwarts was a different place for him now, Draco supposed he should just be happy that the term hadn't held anything worse. It was just one more year, after all – if stares and muted whispers and mumbles were all he had to put up with, he could certainly stand that for a period of time before he would be free to move to the South of France to be with his parents.
There had been hexes – more than one – and Draco knew he was relatively lucky that he had come out unscathed so far. He moved to the Slytherin dormitories and put his broom carefully in the corner of his room and then moved to his bed. He grabbed his stuffed dragon from under the covers and flicked his wand to Accio some parchment and a quill and crossed his legs beneath him.
Draco chewed on the end of his quill for a moment, thinking, and then listened to the scratch-scratch of his writing on the thick parchment as he composed a letter, making sure his writing was neat and tidy as he checked his spelling carefully.
Father
Potter is a total prat. This whole place is awful, and I hate it here.
I do wish you could have sent me to Durmstrang with Zabini and Parkinson. I miss them. Without Crabbe, Goyle doesn't do much anymore. He just sits there and eats, without saying a word to
anyone, moving from class to class as if he is under Imperius.
Severus is the only person who is nice to me. Everyone else either talks about me just loud enough for me to hear or ignores me completely. One of the Patil twins (the one who wasn't killed in the Battle) hexed me the other day. I'm not sure what she did but it burned my head; it was so painful, Father and everyone laughed at me. Everyone apart from Potter. He reversed the hex and Ginny Weasley cast a bat-bogey hex at Patil.
I still don't know why he did it.
I really do hate him, Father.
Love,
Draco
P.S. Might it be possible to ask Mother if she could send me some chocolate?
Draco put down his quill and very carefully blew over the parchment to watch the damp spots of ink dry. When he was happy that the words wouldn't smudge, he folded the paper in two and then placed it carefully into an envelope. He reached into his drawer for the stamp his father had given him for his eleventh birthday, using a flame from the tip of his wand to melt some dark green wax and then stamping his initials and the Malfoy crest into the wax, carefully separating the stamp from the paper when he finished.
He supposed he should take his letter to post shortly. With a sigh, Draco put the letter down on the bedside cabinet and then curled up into a ball with his dragon held tightly in his arms.
Whatever he did, he wouldn't cry.
Because Malfoy's didn't cry.
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Draco fingered the parchment in the pocket of his robes with a contented hum and kept his head down as he moved to the Slytherin dungeons to Potions. He had torn into his father's reply as soon as it arrived and took comfort in his advice which suggested Draco ignore the whispers and laughter which he was so used to by now. Holding his head high, Draco kept his pace quick and steady as he moved into the classroom.
"Is that your wand in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"
Draco froze as he put his books down by his workstation and turned to see Potter grinning inanely at him.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"Ron and Hermione wanted to work together – always snogging lately." Potter pulled a face and then shrugged with a wink at Draco. "I thought we could work together – Snape might give me a break for once if we do."
Draco snorted and then glared into the cauldron and over at Potter.
"I can't afford to get bad marks any more than I can afford to suffer the loss of my skin, eyesight, hair or one of my fingers. If you're going to insist on helping then do nothing. You'll only cock it all up."
"You're such a brat, Malfoy."
Draco scowled and turned to glare at him when he felt a nudge to his shoulder. "If you do that when I'm brewing, you're going to get us both injured."
Potter held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and let out a light laugh before looking at the ingredients with a frown. "There must be something I can do?"
"Just try not to distract me." Draco focused on neatly slicing the ingredients in front of him and smirked as he felt Potter first tense and then sigh with relief when Severus came over to inspect their work and then moved on without comment.
"Do you find me distracting then, Malfoy?"
Draco startled as he felt Potter's breath ghost over his ear and the heat of his warm body close to Draco's own. He frowned again, trying to ignore his body's response because this was Potter and there was no way he was going to allow himself to think of Potter like that, even if he did smell like chocolate and Quidditch leathers.
"I find you annoying." Draco dropped some of the ingredients into the cauldron and bit his lip when Potter leaned in to peer into the cauldron, brushing against him as he studied the mixture.
"Are we done?"
"Hardly. We just have to wait for fifteen minutes and then we do the rest. Why don't you read your Potions book or something?"
Draco sat down and shuffled his chair away from Potter and pretended to read, although the words on the page didn't seem all that clear anymore. Potter sat down next to him and their legs brushed together under the table.
"Malfoy?"
"What do you want now?" Draco hissed the words out and turned to face Potter, a little startled by how close he was - his eyes fixed intently on Draco.
"I wondered if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend." Draco watched Harry who appeared to be flushing lightly. "I mean with me, Ron and Hermione – have a drink with us at the Three Broomsticks? I reckon it would be a good message to send after the war, building bridges and all that."
"Since when did you become a politician, Potter?" Draco snorted and stood to add the final ingredients to the potion, stirring it. He thought about going to the cosy pub and sitting down with the golden trio, laughing over something stupid Potter said and teasing Weasley and Granger. Fantasy – pure and simple – he saw the way Weasley looked at him and the idea of being friends with Potter was just…
"So?"
"I don't think it would work, Potter." Draco paused for a moment and looked up to meet his eyes. "But I appreciate the offer."
Harry sighed and Draco thought for one moment that he actually looked disappointed, turning back to his book which was covered in a delicate scrawl which definitely wasn't Potter's own messy handwriting.
"Do me a favour – at least think about it, yeah?"
"I suppose I can do that, but I'm not making any promises."
With a huff, Draco settled back to his book, relieved when Potter did the same. He found the words all seemed to blur on the page as he thought about how things could be if he accepted Potter's offer. With a shake of his head, he forced himself to concentrate. It wouldn't do to imagine the impossible – he was better off keeping his head down, just like he had planned.
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The air was crisp and clean and Draco wrapped his scarf a little more tightly around his neck, his expensive shoes tapping on the pavement as he strode towards Honeydukes, his neatly packaged quill from Scrivenshaft's clutched tightly in his hand.
He tended not to go to Hogsmeade on the weekends when the students were allowed to visit. In those times Draco relished the solitude of the school, taking the time to wander around the corridors and the grounds, breathing in the air without eyes watching his every move. Today, however, the prospect of purchasing a new quill had been too good to resist, and buying some new stationary had made him think of Honeydukes and their sugar quills. He half wondered if his eagerness had anything to do with Potter's suggestion, but he walked quickly past the Three Broomsticks after a moment's hesitation and decided to stick to his original plan.
He moved to Honeydukes, hoping to slip in unnoticed, to get some sugar quills before going back to school. He entered the shop and found what he was looking for and made his purchase. He left quickly and kept his head down as he walked back towards the exit to Hogsmeade to start the walk back to Hogwarts.
Once he was a reasonable distance away, he paused to tear open the bag to sample a delicious looking quill. Suddenly, his bags were ripped out of his hands by a powerful Accio.
"Look who it is – Draco Malfoy. How's your father, Malfoy? It's disgusting he's still allowed to walk the streets."
Draco watched as a group of Ravenclaw students, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot as well as two girls whose names he wasn't familiar with, advanced towards him.
Draco let out a strangled sound as he watched Michael drop the Scrivenshaft bag on the road and drop his dark boot down on his carefully chosen quill. His sugar quills were thrown to one side and they turned brown from the rainwater and dirt on the pavements. Draco grabbed his wand and aimed it at the group, trying his best to show no fear as he faced them and hoping no one would notice the shaking in his hand.
"You can't just attack me in broad daylight – someone will hear – you will get expelled." Draco spat out his words with more confidence than he felt as he hoped someone would hear
"Ever been on the receiving end of Cruciatus, Malfoy? It's what your aunt did to my dad until he couldn't walk anymore – and your father stood by and watched. He should have been kissed for the things he did – and so should you."
Draco felt a cold shiver run through him at Anthony's words. He tried to keep an eye on everyone as Michael continued to grind his heel over the broken remains of Draco's new purchase.
"You can't cast Unforgivables, the Ministry can track them." Draco prodded his wand forward again almost like a fencing sabre. He fixed his face so the group couldn't see his emotions, as the mention of his father being kissed brought back the sights and smells of the trial earlier that summer.
Draco remembered the shuffling, the flash of light bulbs and the heckling as he, his mother and his father took the stand at the Wizengamot after the war. He remembered how he had taken his father's hand, and the sound of his father's cracked voice when he talked about his pursuit of power which had gone so horribly wrong, as Draco listened to his pleas to let him remain with his family – to allow him to look after his family.
Draco had been sick before the trial, retching into the cool basin in his room, thinking about his father being kissed. He knew his eyes were dark and his face pale, and on the way to the stand he had caught Potter's eyes as he walked, seeing the Dementors waiting to one side and he noticed Potter looked as ill as Draco likely did.
In the end not many had been kissed. The Ministry had different ways of dealing with the Death Eaters, largely ordering they leave Wizarding Britain and wear magical cuffs which limited their ability to perform magic to only the most basic spells. His father had one, although Draco and his mother had escaped without any restraints on their magic.
"He saved my life. Draco Malfoy saved my life."
Potter had saved Draco with his testimony, taking to the stand and speaking clearly, looking right at Draco with a strange, intense sort of stare. A week later Draco's parents had left for the South of France and Aunt Bella had been kissed. Draco was left alone in the Manor just before term started, with the house elves and his memories.
Now Draco felt those moments after the war all come back to him as he faced the wand pointed at his face. He pointed his own wand back, knowing he couldn't hold this many people and stepping backwards until he felt his back connect with a wall, rough and damp through his clothes.
He wondered if Potter would save him again now.
"There's nowhere to run, Draco."
One of the girls let out a strange sort of humourless laugh which Draco recognised from Patil and others who had lost people in the war. He braced himself and then the hexes started flying and he was in agony, crumpling to the floor, his wand clattering out of his hand. He was sure he heard someone cast Crucio and he tried to block it to no avail, his body snapping into an arch as he cried out.
"Leave him!"
As quickly as it had begun, the pain stopped and Draco was dimly aware of voices around him – a firm hand on his shoulder, checking his face and body carefully, and a mumbled conversation between two men and a woman.
"They'll try it again, you know."
"I know…"
"I don't know why you care…"
"He is not his father – he saved me and he's not a killer, he's just a bit of a prat sometimes. He doesn't deserve this. Seriously, Ron – help me."
"For you, Harry – not for him, for you."
Draco was dimly aware of a Levicorpus Charm being cast and he felt strong arms lifting him. Despite himself he wrapped his arms around the warm body, linked around a warm neck and buried his face there. He heard soothing sounds and felt his hair being smoothed, the crack of Apparition and then his body being jostled as they walked quickly. After a long moment, Draco closed his eyes against everything and let the world fade away as he basked in warmth, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.
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Draco woke slowly in his own bed, feeling his body twinge as he pulled into a yawn with a wince. He remembered the events of yesterday, the arms around him and the feeling of comfort.
Potter.
It would have to be bloody Potter.
He stood and felt his face flush when he realised he was in his pyjamas. He wondered who had done that and hoped against hope that Potter and Weasley hadn't seen the name tags his mother had directed the house elves to sew inside his clothes. With another groan he opened the drawer where he kept his pyjamas and saw the magazine underneath the pile of clothes which looked a little disturbed. He wondered if Potter had looked at it and the thought sent him into a panic.
Draco tugged on his robes, barely stopping to check his hair and then moved to the Hall for breakfast. He paused in the doorway and looked around, feeling uncertain and lost. Taking a deep breath he moved towards the Gryffindor table and next to Harry and tapped him on the shoulder until Potter turned with a laugh, holding his hand up to indicate a pause in the conversation he was having with Ginny. He grinned at Draco and turned around properly.
"You're up. How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Draco felt his words catch in his throat, wanting to say 'thank you' or to ask if Potter was going to tell anyone his secret, feeling his face heat at the thought.
"Join us?"
"Yes….well…okay…" A little unsure, Draco looked around for a seat, shuffling a little in place.
"Why don't you sit on my lap and we'll talk about the first thing that comes up?" Harry grinned at Draco, giving him a cheeky wink as Granger spluttered into her pumpkin juice, Weasley groaned and Finnegan let out a sharp laugh.
"Subtle."
Draco looked at Finnegan laughing and the other Gryffindors smiling and avoiding Draco's eyes as they looked down at the table. He flicked his eyes to Harry, who was grinning and patting his lap again with a wink, and felt a hot, furious anger. How dare Potter make reference to that in front of everyone - the one thing he treasured as his secret?
"Fuck you, Potter." His voice sounded dry and cracked and he could hear the desperation in his voice as he took in the laughing faces and turned on his heel, storming back out of the Hall, his breakfast forgotten.
"Malfoy! Bloody hell, you git – wait for me."
Draco walked more quickly, growling to himself as he passed into a quiet corridor, spitting out his words in fury as he tried to get away from Potter.
"I hate you, Potter – you're just as bad as the rest of them!"
"What do you mean?"
Draco rounded on Potter, all of his hurt and rage coming out in that one moment.
"You! Laughing at me, thinking you're so bloody funny with your jokes while you sit with your friends and think you're better than everyone else. You don't know me – you have no right to judge me."
Draco could hear his own breathing in the room, so angry he wanted to hit something, preferably Potter. He watched as Harry just stood in silence, waiting for Draco to finish before moving tentatively to Draco and dropping a hand onto his shoulder, speaking quietly.
"I wasn't laughing at you, Malfoy – I promise I wasn't."
"No? Well it bloody well felt like it. What else would you call it, making all of those jokes at my expense?"
Draco was pleased to see Potter at least looked contrite, as his face pulled into an uncertain expression and he shrugged.
"I was trying to flirt…"
"Fuck you, Potter…"
Draco looked at Potter again, feeling his face twist into a grimace and wondered how Potter could make fun of him like this – for the one thing he thought he had kept well hidden from everyone. If Potter had told everyone else what he found in Draco's drawers, they would call him names and laugh at him even more than they already did.
"Malfoy – Draco….calm down, it's alright."
Draco was dimly aware of Potter pulling him into his arms, running a hand through his hair and shushing him as he gasped for breath, huge gulps of air which his throat didn't seem willing to accept into his lungs. The hand running through his hair reminded him of being younger, in his father's lap and laughing at a story while his parents doted on him. He had always thought of Potter as short but somehow he had grown over the past year and Draco now came up to his chin – plus Potter was warm.
Strong and warm.
"Get off me, Potter."
His voice sounded thick and unconvincing and he made no move to push Potter away, wrapping his arms around him more tightly and brushing his cheek against Potter's t-shirt. He smelled of soap and chocolate.
"I would prefer not to let you go, actually."
Draco heard the laughter in Potter's voice and tensed a little, before the strong hand soothed him, running through his hair again and he felt his body melt.
"Prat."
"Git."
Draco felt Potter pull back just a little and then felt fingers under his chin, tilting his face up. Draco was quite sure he was drowning when his eyes met Harry's and his throat constricted, his heart hammering in his chest as he saw Potter tilting his head in slow motion. He hadn't been kissed before and his first kiss was going to be with Potter and he didn't have a bloody clue what to do with his lips or his tongue or any of it, really.
He was about to protest, to shove Potter away as hard as he could, when all of a sudden it was too late because he was being kissed. Draco felt Harry's lips press firmly against his own and responded to him with his own movements, urged by Potter's lips to open his and feeling for the first time the slide of a tongue against his own.
He wondered if he was doing it all wrong. If he was doing it wrong, he wondered how it could feel this damn good. His body reacted to the kissing, to the taste of chocolate on Harry's lips and the feeling of strong, masculine arms wrapped around him and he pulled his body back from Potter, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment.
"Don't."
Potter's words were almost a growl against his lips, as he pulled Draco firmly back against him, grinding lightly into him and walking him back against a wall, pressing insistently against Draco so there was no escaping the fact that Potter was enjoying this just as much as Draco was.
Someone moaned and the grinding became more urgent, Potter's leg moving between Draco's own insistently as they rutted against one another, the room heavy with laboured breathing.
"Potter, stop…I'm going to-"
"Yes…"
Draco cried out, almost sobbing, his face hot with shame as he came shuddering to completion pinned against the wall by Potter. He tore his head away and tried to push at Potter, his hands only succeeding in settling on Potter's chest which felt so good under his fingers and then he felt a bite down on his neck and Potter's body was shaking too, going limp against Draco as he sucked at a spot on Draco's neck, finally pulling back with a ragged breath.
Draco cried out, almost sobbing, his face hot with shame as he came shuddering to completion pinned against the wall by Potter. He tore his head away and tried to push at Potter, his hands only succeeding in settling on Potter's chest which felt so good under his fingers and then he felt a bite down on his neck and Potter's body was shaking too, going limp against Draco as he sucked at a spot on Draco's neck, finally pulling back with a ragged breath.
"Get away from me…" Draco heard his own voice, thick and husky and trembling a little and had to try to stop himself from crying for no reason he could think of at all other than he couldn't bear to see Potter laughing at him, wondering at the stories and the whispering which would spread around the school.
"No. I won't."
Potter tugged Draco from the wall and began dragging him up to Gryffindor Tower, pulling him along and moving quickly through the empty common room to the dormitories, and moving to a bed which Draco could only assume was his own. He pulled Draco down onto it and then flicked his wand, shutting the curtains around the bed and casting various wards and charms. Draco wasn't entirely sure why he followed Harry at all, but he sat on the edge of the bed, his trousers and pants damp and his cheeks hot with embarrassment, the feeling of Potter's thigh against his own ridiculously distracting.
"What….what are we doing?"
Draco could hear the sounds of Gryffindors coming back from lunch, things being thrown onto the beds, people talking and laughing and moving back down to the common room, but no one disturbed them. He supposed Potter must have cast some pretty strong wards and relaxed just a little, feeling less like he had just been taken as bait for some horrible sort of prank.
"I'm damned if I know." Harry smiled at Draco then and moved to lie back on the bed, pulling Draco with him and bundling him into his arms, speaking quietly and seriously. "I like you…I have liked you for quite a while, you know – that's why I have been flirting – sitting with you in Potions, that sort of thing."
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't ever try to flirt with me again, you're horrible at it."
"It got us here, didn't it?" Draco tilted his head back to see Harry smiling down at him and let out a soft snort.
"I don't know what got us here and I'm not even sure where here is, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with your pathetic innuendo and terrible flirting. Is that your wand in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me? Really, Potter – I expected more from a war hero."
"You should have heard the next line I was going to use…" Harry looked a bit sheepish and then sighed, his cheeks heating when Draco arched an eyebrow at him. "Is your father a Death Eater?"
Draco stilled and growled, gripping Potter by his tie, hoping he looked suitably intimidating, feeling furious all over again. "You know he is you complete and utter arse, he-"
"Because you've got killer looks." Harry finished quickly and then mumbled, looking at his hands. "Then there was the one where I would ask you if you had the time and tell you I had the energy and I had lots of broom jokes – hundreds of them. Some pretty good stuff with wands, too."
Draco was fairly certain he looked like some sort of startled fish, his mouth open as he gaped at Harry. His line was so inappropriate, so offensive, so unlike Potter that he wasn't sure whether to hit him or hex him and in the end settled for laughing. He laughed until his sides ached with it and he had to draw in deep breaths, raising his head to look at Harry, wiping his eyes with a shake of his head.
"Promise me – no more flirting."
"Oh." Harry looked crestfallen and then shuffled closer to Draco, brushing his lips against his jawline. "If I don't flirt, how will I get you to kiss me again?"
"By shutting the hell up…" Draco smiled a brilliant, genuine smile for the first time since the war ended and then turned to Potter and kissed him fiercely, delighting when he heard Harry moan into the kiss.
"I like you, Malfoy, you git – I've been trying to tell you that all term."
Draco pulled back and looked at Harry and thought for a moment how good he looked with his lips plump and well kissed and his eyes shining.
"Hm. Well I'm reserving judgment on you for the moment, Potter."
"You are?" Harry moved over Draco until he was lying flat and gave him what Draco thought was a very Slytherin sort of smirk.
"Well you have obviously been after me for some time – you might want to convince me that this is a good idea."
Draco smiled his best, brilliant, Malfoy smile at Harry and then allowed himself to be thoroughly kissed.
"Did that help?"
Harry grinned down at Draco and nuzzled into him a little as Draco laughed for what he was pretty sure was one of the first times that year. He pulled Harry's face back from his neck and arched into him with a grin.
"It's a start, Potter – it's a start."
~Fin~
All stories in the compilation can be found on Live journal under the names of the Authors