Seconds Away

Harry had misgivings about the new term at Hogwarts. He wasn't feeling as excited as he usually did about returning to school. For one thing, Malfoy would be on his back about his father's arrest and he was dreading people asking him about his O.W.L results. To be honest they hadn't turned out how he had hoped. He had just scraped through in Potions and had done almost as badly in History of Magic. But worst of all was the death of his beloved godfather Sirius Black. He had been the only thing that kept Harry going, reassuring him when he was down and advising him when anything out of the ordinary happened. Now all he had left was Hermione and Ron, and they had been very subdued over the summer, probably not wanting to shower him with too much sympathy. Though, in fact, he could have done with some for all the help the Dursleys had been. They hadn't even known about Sirius.

Throwing his doubts aside he turned to his friends.

"I'll go and find a compartment for us," Harry told Hermione and Ron as they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"Okay, we'll see you after the prefects' meeting. See you in a bit." The two of them went off in the opposite direction, leaving Harry wandering down the aisle, peering into compartments to find one that was empty. Eventually he entered one which, on first glance, seemed vacant.

But as soon as he stepped inside, he heard the door slam shut behind him and spun around. No one other than Draco Malfoy was staring him in the face. Instinctively Harry reached into his robes for his wand.

"What are you doing, Potter?" he drawled, smoothing a hand over his hair.

"Trying to find a compartment... no, ironing, what do you think, Malfoy?" Harry retorted, clenching and unclenching his fist, wand at the ready.

"Where's the weasel and the Mudblood?" Malfoy asked.

"Oh, shut up Malfoy! " Harry raised his wand to him, his insides churning with anger. He really couldn't be dealing with Malfoy's frivolity at that precise moment in time. "They're at the prefects meeting, which, seeing as you're a prefect, shouldn't you?"

Malfoy waved his hand in a dismissive manner as Harry glared at him.

"My we've grown over the summer, haven't we?" Malfoy looked him up and down, observing his outstretched hand that contained his wand. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's it to you?" Harry said, tightening his grip on his wand. Malfoy was starting to more than anger him. He was well on his way to infuriating.

"Nothing. Nothing. But seeing as this is my compartment, could you please leave?" he asked, jerking his head towards the door. "Would you mind leaving?"

Harry pocketed his wand and gave a tug at the doorknob. It didn't move. He tried again. It still it wouldn't budge. Great, he thought, his face growing hot. Let Malfoy think you're totally incapable. He cleared his throat.

"Um...It won't open," Harry mumbled to Draco.

"Evidently you haven't got any stronger." Draco walked to the door and pulled the knob. It wouldn't open.

"It's jammed," Draco pronounced.

"What do you mean, 'jammed'?" Harry asked, panic-stricken. Wild thoughts of being locked in a confined space with Draco Malfoy were circulating in his brain. His heart started to beat unnaturally fast and he felt his breath quickening.

"Nor brighter," Draco murmured. "As in 'won't open', 'stuck'."

"Yes, thank you for clearing that up. I meant how are we going to get out?" Harry started to frantically pull at the knob.

"We're not." Draco slumped onto a seat.

"Of course we are!" Harry growled and started to wave his wand at the door. "Alohomora!"

"That won't work. It's jammed, not locked."

"All right." Harry sat down opposite Draco, out of breath. "I can't believe that I'm imprisoned with my worst enemy."

"I don't think 'worst' is the word I'd use," Malfoy said scathingly.

"Well, whatever," Harry said. He got up and nervously started to pace the compartment.

"Would you please not do that," Draco said restlessly, shifting in his seat.

"I'll do what I like, Malfoy," Harry said, irritated. If he had to stay in here with Malfoy for more than an hour, he might end up strangling him.

"Well it's your fault we got into this mess in the first place Potter!" Draco spat. He stood up menacingly. Harry glowered at him, his heart pounding with hate.

"Oh, it's always my fault!" Harry said hotly.

"Yes, it is!" Draco stepped towards Harry until he had him backed up against the window.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. He shifted, decidedly uncomfortable, Malfoy only inches away from him.

"You got my father arrested, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. "You with your perfect scar and your dead parents. Think you're quite the martyr, don't you?"

"You take that back! Do you think I chose all the attention I get because my parents were murdered by Voldemort? That I liked the fact I escaped the killing curse and have this stupid reminder of it every day? As for your father, he got arrested out of his own stupidity!" Harry felt hatred bubbling up inside him, his hands becoming clammy, his shoulders shaking. He couldn't believe the things Malfoy was saying. He was having enough problems trying to accept that Sirius was dead, without him having to drag up his parents too.

Malfoy didn't reply, just stared at him. Harry met his eyes defiantly. Their breathing was ragged from arguing and there was only an inch between their faces. Harry studied Draco's pale face, his moist pink lips a contrast against his creamy skin. Harry had a sudden urge to close the remaining gap. All this arguing had given him a strange energy that he wanted to pour into doing something, anything. His stomach lurched; his heart jumped into his mouth as Malfoy's lips softly pressed to his and parted.

Harry's knees nearly gave way and he felt a plummeting in his loins. He was about to push Malfoy away when he felt himself respond, opening his mouth to Malfoy's, feeling the heat sear through his lips to his head, the intoxicating rush of intensity overwhelming him. He grabbed Malfoy around the waist to keep his legs from collapsing. Malfoy's tongue, soft and warm, darted into Harry's mouth. He felt his senses awakening, freeing his mind to the absolute completeness he felt. Malfoy pushed a hand through Harry's hair and he felt himself melt like liquid, biting down on his lip, groaning. He heard Malfoy gasp.

Suddenly a voice at the back of Harry's mind kicked into gear, like a bullet piercing skin.

It still wouldn't register as Malfoy ran a hand down his back, his fingers lightly stroking. A jolt of pleasure seized him.

The voice persisted. You are kissing Draco Malfoy!

Yes and I like it, he argued.

Harry gathered all the strength he had left in him and withdrew from Malfoy's kiss. They stared at each other incredulously, gasping for breath.

"What the hell was that all about?" Harry asked weakly, sitting down.

"I'm not exactly sure," Malfoy answered, just as bewildered.

Harry's face felt like it was on fire. Why had Malfoy kissed him? No, why had he let Malfoy kiss him? God, what was wrong with him?

"Whatever it was, we seemed to like it." Draco grinned at him. Harry gave a small smile back. He was confused. Why had he let that happen? Malfoy had insulted his friends and parents! He had to get out before anything else happened.

Suddenly the compartment door burst open.

"There you are, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "We've been looking all over for you." She glanced at Malfoy darkly as if to ask what he was doing there.

"Oh...Hi, Hermione, Ron." Harry swallowed, pursing his swollen lips. He didn't want Hermione and Ron to notice.

"Weasel and the Mudblood." Malfoy stood up. Ron made to grab for Malfoy, but Hermione held him back.

"Why weren't you at the prefects meeting, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, ignoring his insult.

Harry got up, anger boiling inside him again. Malfoy seemed to have this strange trait that made him flip back and forth from nice... could you call it nice? a voice at the back of Harry's mind asked. No you couldn't, it deduced... to the vilest person he had ever had the misfortune to meet. Do you really mean that? the voice persisted. Harry shook his head. He was feeling faint and needed fresh air.

"None of your business, Granger." Malfoy stalked out, not giving Harry a backward glance. Harry slumped into his seat. What was going to happen now? They were just going to go back to being enemies? But...the kiss had been...he could still feel the weakness in his knees and the imprint of Malfoy's lips on his. No...he didn't want to think about the kiss. It had been an accident. But two whole minutes of accident? Somehow he didn't think so. He shook his head again.

"Harry...are you okay?" Hermione sat opposite him.

"What?" He looked up, jolted from his reverie.

"Are you okay?" she asked again. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

"I'm f...fine," Harry stuttered, standing up. "Just a little...um ...nervous about school. I...um...have..."

Harry rushed out of the compartment without finishing his sentence and locked himself in the toilet. He leaned against the sink swallowing mouthfuls of air. He couldn't get his head around it. Why had he let it happen? Was he so desperate for human contact that he had to resort to kissing Malfoy? He shook his head and inspected his flushed face in the mirror. Splashing it with cold water he went back to the compartment where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him in silence.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I am fine," Harry said, more firmly than he felt. He sat down and busied himself with a copy of The Quibbler that he had found lying around. Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

The train journey to Hogwarts came to an end rather more quickly than Harry had anticipated and they all got into the carriages that would take them up to the school. Harry, in deep thought, sat at the Gryffindor table waiting for the feast to begin. He looked over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting there talking to Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson as if he'd done nothing more than taken a stroll in the park. Malfoy looked up, made eye contact with Harry, scowled and looked away. Harry cleared his throat and turned his attention to the roast potatoes that had suddenly appeared at the table. Why was Malfoy being like that? No, don't be stupid...Malfoy always acts exactly how he wants without a single thought to other people's feelings. Perhaps that was the reason. He had realised what they had done. Harry couldn't help feeling disappointed though. His lips had been so soft and Harry remembered the weakness he had felt, as if he was submitting himself totally...Stop it! He didn't even like Malfoy as a human being, let alone fancy him! No, he had to forget that the kiss had ever happened. Though how he could he didn't know.

"...So what do you think, Harry?"

"What?" Harry was aware that someone had spoken his name. He looked up and saw Hermione who was sitting opposite him. She was watching him impatiently.

"Who's going to be the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher? There isn't anyone sitting at the teachers' table."

"Oh...I hadn't noticed." Harry looked across to the teacher's table, but his eyes were soon drawn back to a certain Slytherin. Hermione shook her head and muttered, clearly annoyed that she couldn't keep Harry's attention.

Harry had to talk to him. He couldn't just leave it. You didn't kiss your worst enemy and then pretend it hadn't happened. Tomorrow, he would speak to him.

* * *

Draco Malfoy paced his room, holding a letter in his hand. What had possessed him to throw himself at Potter, for crying out loud? He was meant to be gaining his trust, not grovelling at his feet. Potter had actually kissed him back! He'd thought the boy hated him! Why in Merlin's name would he want to kiss him? Draco was beside himself. He couldn't believe that he, a Malfoy, would make such a mistake. Potter was going to get suspicious now. Why had he had to kiss him straight away? They hadn't even been having a civilised conversation. He supposed that since he had jinxed the door to jam when someone closed it, the chance had just been too perfect to pass up.

He cast a brief look at the letter he had in his hand. God damn his father! He didn't want to drag Harry into all this. It wasn't his fault. How could his father ask him to do such a thing? Okay, he hated Harry. Was hate the right word? Well, maybe dislike. But he didn't want to hurt him. Scrunching it up he cast into the roaring flames of the fireplace, watching the blaze of colour singe the yellowing parchment. Draco sat in an armchair. He was going to have to avoid Potter at all costs. Let the situation die down. Then talk to him in a couple of weeks. He had admitted to himself at dinner time, when Potter had thrown him that hurt, wounded look he always affected when something went wrong, that the kiss had been rather...good. Well...not good...okay bloody amazing, but of course he wasn't going to let Potter know that. He felt disgusted with himself for admitting he had liked it. No...this charade had gone too far and he wanted it finished. It was going to go back to the way it had always been with Potter. Competition, fighting and downright hatred for each other. He shot a reproachful look at the charred mass of wood that was crackling away brightly in the fire. His father had no business! He clenched his fists on the arms of the sofa and let out a long breath, trying to control his anger. The whole idea had been dangerous and stupid to start with. He wasn't going to have any part of it, no matter what the consequences for that would be.

* * *

Harry paced his room the next morning. He had to talk to Malfoy. Ask him what it was all about. Why it had happened. Where they stood now; they certainly would never be friends that was for sure, but things wouldn't, couldn't, be the same again. Realising he was late, he hurried downstairs to breakfast and threw himself down beside Ron at the Gryffindor table.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked buttering a piece of toast.

"Uh...packing my bag," Harry lied.

"Where is it?" Hermione frowned, apparently concerned about Harry's recent state of mind.

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured. He'd forgotten his bag. "I'll get it before classes start."

Their new timetables were being handed out and Harry examined his. They had Potions last thing today, so that's when he'd talk to Malfoy. It was driving him mad. What was he going to say? Why had something like this had to happen? Damn that stupid door!

Harry was delighted to find out that Lupin was their new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. After an interesting lesson studying vampires the Gryffindors went happily to lunch. Harry spotted Malfoy, who was sitting in between Crabbe and Goyle and Harry sat down without even a glance from him. He ate his lunch, preoccupied with the thought of speaking to Malfoy and what he was going to say to him.

When Harry walked down the drafty steps to the dungeons and his impending Potions class, Malfoy was already there, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Heart thumping, Harry went up to him.

"We need to talk, Malfoy," Harry said purposefully. Malfoy spun around with a look of malice on his face.

"What about Potter?" Malfoy folded his arms defiantly, his lip curling.

"You know what about," Harry said venomously.

"Well, maybe I don't want to talk about it." Malfoy looked at him with an expression of loathing. Harry felt a sinking in his stomach; Malfoy obviously didn't want anything more to do with him. But why had he kissed him? Of course it had been a shock and he had felt completely confused, but nothing had prepared him for the look of outright animosity Malfoy was giving him now.

"Look..." Harry started angrily. "We can't just forget it ever happened." More people were starting to gather outside the Potions classroom and watched Harry and Draco nervously, knowing they could start fighting at any moment.

"That's exactly what I plan to do." Draco's eyes flashed fiercely. He turned and walked into the classroom. Harry stood there stunned. Breathing slowly he took his place near the front of the room, with Hermione and Ron. He took out his parchment and ink, placing them roughly on the desk, then rooted in his bag for his quill.

"Hermione, do you think I could borrow a quill?" Harry asked, exasperated. He threw a scornful look at Malfoy who talking loudly to Crabbe and Goyle. His voice was starting to annoy him. Snape hadn't arrived yet and the class was talking in low whispers, just in case he appeared unexpectedly.

"Get over it, Potter," Malfoy called across to him, smirking a way that always incensed him.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked handing him a quill.

"Nothing," Harry said through his teeth. If Harry had hated Malfoy before, it was nothing compared with the contempt he felt for him at that precise moment. He had an overwhelming urge to punch that smug face into oblivion, and Hermione's quill shook in his hand.

"I'll get him for you, Harry," Ron said with enthusiasm, next to him.

"No. Leave it, Ron," Harry said out of the side of his mouth. The last thing he needed was Ron getting involved, or anyone he knew for that matter.

Snape entered the room in a flurry of black robes and started to write the lessons instructions on the blackboard. The class stopped whispering and watched him write in silence. Harry's heart was pounding all lesson and he was relieved to step out into the cool corridor when it was finally over.

Malfoy was the last person out and Harry seized his chance. Grabbing him by the arm, he pulled him into a darkened classroom.

"Oi, Potter get off me!" Malfoy struggled and slipped out of Harry's grip.

"We can't pretend it didn't happen," Harry said without preamble.

"Look," Malfoy spat, " I've forgotten and now it's your job to forget as well. I don't want anything more to do with you, Potter." He made to leave.

"Wait!" Harry said, panic-stricken.

Malfoy turned around and looked at him pointedly.

Harry's shoulders sank and he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured, hearing Malfoy leave.

* * *

Draco sat at the Slytherin dinner table. He was going to have a serious word with his father. There was no way he as going to succeed in getting him to do his dirty work. No...he was sticking to his word. He would have nothing more to do with Potter.