Original Sinn

~~~~~

Chapter Two - Sloth

~~~~~

"What do you usually drink?" James asked Harry, finishing off the last of his beer.

"Um...I don't. Usually. But I do like a good honeyed mead. Something sweet, anyhow. I...didn't get a lot of sweets when I was a kid."

James raised an eyebrow. "Strict parents?"

Harry looked down at his still fidgeting hands. "More like aunt and uncle. It's a long story. My parents died when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle weren't very fond of being stuck with me."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yes, Potter. Go with the sob story."

Harry would have retorted if James wasn't sitting right next to him. Instead, he ordered James another beer, and one of those expensive, froo-froo, fairy Cosmos that Malfoy ordered the night before.

"I wouldn't have taken you as a vodka, triple sec, cranberry and lime kind of guy, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not, really. One of my more...froo-froo fairy kind of friends always drinks them."

"That's right. Blame it on me. You're not turning gay at all..."

Harry glared in what he hoped was the right direction of Malfoy's hiding spot. Bloody, blond bastard.

"You okay, Harry?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I'm okay. Just had a thought about my froo-froo fairy friend that wasn't very pleasant."

"An ex?"

"You wish, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Er...no. Not him. He's just being an ass lately." Goddammit Malfoy, shut up!

"Touché."

"So," James said, sipping his beer, "What brings you here on a Saturday night?"

"Oh..." Harry replied, "Just wanted to get out of the house, you know..."

"Potter. You're doing well. Surprisingly. But I think it's time to spice things up a bit. Just to keep him coming back for more. Touch your nose if you think you're ready for that."

Harry hesitated in his smiling on James' joke about his own pathetic reason for being at the club alone - something about needing to be around lots of noise to clear his head or something.

"Okay...touch your nose if you want to know what I mean by 'spice it up'."

Harry casually scratched his nose and laughed at James' response.

"Okay, here's what I'm thinking: just ask him if he'd like to dance. If not, then don't look too disappointed. Or relieved! If he does - stick to the edge of the crowd, so I can still watch you. Again, if he gets fresh and you don't like it - tell him you're not ready; you two just met. If you got all that, touch your nose."

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation and rubbed his nose when James looked the other way at a loud couple down the bar.

"Er...Sameson? Would you like to...dance for a while?"

Sameson laughed. "Nobody calls me Sameson, Harry. At least, not those I don't do business with. And even them, I prefer them to call me Mr. James."

"Oh. What should I call you, then?"

Sameson leaned forward. "Yours. For tonight. If you want me."

Harry blushed profusely and ducked his head, his stomach dropping out from under him. "Er..."

"Way to go, Potter! He's very interested. I'm astonished that your boyish, fidgety charm worked on him."

Sameson laughed at Harry's dazed expression and grabbed his hand. "Come on, Harry. I'll dance with you." And Sameson led him off the bar and down into the crowd, but Harry stopped them at the edge and put his arms on Sameson's shoulders. He felt nervous, jumpy, and maybe just a little bit sick as Sameson put his own hands around Harry's waist and rocked their hips to the beat.

"So, er...what should I call you, then?" Harry repeated, trying not to trip.

"What?" James yelled over the loud music.

"My question. You didn't answer it." Harry yelled near his ear.

"Well, actually, most people call me Jamie. Or Sam. But you can call me J-Sam. Or Sammy. Or James. Or Jimmy..."

Harry laughed. "How many nicknames do you have?"

"Oh, about a million. Do you have any? Is 'Harry' short for 'Harold'?"

Harry smiled. "Nope. It's just 'Harry'."

"Well, just Harry, I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Can I get one more dance out of you?"

Harry smiled again, not feeling as nervous anymore. This Sameson James could be a worse guy...for a criminal.

"Sure."

The next song was much faster, and Harry and James separated a little and danced, though for Harry, it was more of a weird, awkward shimmy and a bit of copycatting from the people around him. He was feeling self-conscious again, and then he heard Malfoy's voice in his ear.

"Potter, you've surprised me again. You were doing so well. And then you started dancing."

Yes. Now he felt like an idiot. Brilliant! My unwanted gay-advisor has come to save the day! Harry turned away for a moment and whispered, knowing Malfoy would hear him: "Is that a backhanded compliment, Malfoy?"

"You're in no position to be cocky, Potter. Tip one: Relax. Close your eyes, and listen to the beat. Feel how it goes through your body; how it changes your pulse. Then move with it."

Oh yes. That doesn't sound gay. "Malfoy. Don't talk sweet nothings in my ear."

"Again, Potter. No position."

Harry paused, closed his eyes and swayed for a moment, trying to follow Malfoy's strange instructions. Then he felt hands on his waist and snapped his eyes open.

"Are you okay?"

Harry shook his head, backing away from James' touch. "I feel a little sick." Laughing nervously he said, "That'll teach me to drink a froo-froo fairy drink again."

"Or, you could back out of it."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered as Sameson led him off the dance floor and to a dark expanse of wall that wasn't covered with guys making out with one another. Or doing other things that made Harry's stomach flip and wish he hadn't seen.

"I can take a rain-check on that dance, if you like."

"That might be a good idea," Harry chuckled, pushing his fringe off his forehead. "I'm sorry. Alcohol doesn't usually affect me this way."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"Er...no. I'll be fine. I can take a cab."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to call you sometime. To cash-in my rain-check."

Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Er...I don't...have a phone."

Sameson gave Harry an odd look. "You don't?"

"Yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious at all, Potter. Tell him you lost everything in a fire at your flat, and you're staying at a hotel."

"There was a fire. At my flat. I lost practically everything. So I've been staying at the Berjaya Eden Park Hotel. In Bayswater. I don't remember the number. Sorry."

"What's your room number?" Sameson persisted. "I can look up the hotel in the directory."

Harry hesitated for a moment, rubbing his forehead.

"It's fine, Potter. Tell him."

"614."

James smiled that disarming smile again. "Then I'll call you. Soon."

"Okay."

James brushed a thumb across Harry's cheek. "Good-bye, Harry."

"Good-bye, Sameson."

James walked away, disappearing into the crowd, and Harry finally exhaled.

Oh God. He'd done it. He'd caught the interest of another guy.

A bad guy, granted, but a guy none the less. He really didn't seem all that bad, though...

"Potter."

Harry jumped at Malfoy's voice sounding so close to his ear that he hit his head against the wall. There was something fundamentally different about having someone's voice magically projected into your ear, no matter how quietly they spoke, and having them actually speaking in you ear. Harry couldn't place his finger on it, but it was a definite difference.

"What, Malfoy?"

"Let's go. I'll leave first. I'll meet you with a cab a block east of here. Meet me in ten minutes." Malfoy pushed himself off the wall and left Harry standing there, trying to wrap around his head just where he was, what he'd just spent the last hour doing, and what on earth he had just let Malfoy get him into.

~~~~~

"Potter! Potter, wake up! Come on, you lazy ass!"

Potter mumbled something unintelligible and turned over, taking his pillow with him.

Draco huffed and yanked Potter's covers away. "Come on, we did not get in that late. Get up, take a shower, brush your teeth, and get ready for your lessons."

Potter curled up from the cold and mumbled, "Malfoy, go away."

"Lessons, Potter! I have zero time to teach you all I know, and it's going to take a million years to get you into shape."

"What are you talking about?" Potter asked grumpily, squinting up at him.

"Lessons, Potter. Today...is Lesson Day."

"Oh, no," he groaned, burrowing his face in his pillow.

"Yes. Now get up. We have a lot of work to do."

"No, we don't," he replied, sitting up and putting his glasses on. "I think I did just fine last night, Malfoy. You hardly helped me at all."

Malfoy crossed his arms and glared. "You think so?"

"Yes."

Potter yelped as Draco pounced, pinning him down on the bed. He struggled for a moment before Draco said, "And if James had you in this position?"

Potter swallowed. "I'd fight him."

Draco deliberately pushed his groin into Potter's and brought his lips a hair's breadth away from his. By the look on Potter's face, his stomach just flipped, but not in the pleasant way. "Are you sure about that? It might seem odd if you struggle too much. You don't want to come off a virgin, do you?"

He watched as Potter's face turned red and flushed down his neck. "You're hardly Sameson, Malfoy."

"You're right. I'm not. But after one night you're calling him by his given name? That's rather interesting."

"Get off of me."

"What if he kissed you?"

Potter faltered for a second. "Then I'd...let him."

"And it wouldn't gross you out?" Draco asked, still nose to nose with Potter.

"It's just kissing, Malfoy. I can fake it."

"And if he wanted more?"

"I'm not a girl, Malfoy. I can stop him if I need to."

Malfoy smirked. "I'm sure you could." He pushed off of Potter and off the bed. "Go shower. Then I'll teach you about how a guy should dress to impress another guy."

"Malfoy, if you dress me like some flamboyant-"

"Potter - I have taste. And I think I've figured out why Sameson went for you and not me."

"I thought it was because I've got dark hair." Potter said grumpily as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

"Oh, that's only part of it. I actually think it's your boyish charm."

Potter glared. "Fuck you, Malfoy."

"I think I'll wait until you beg."

"Then you'll be waiting a long time."

~~~~~

Harry got out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He squinted in the fog, knowing that putting his glasses back on would be fruitless. He took another towel and rubbed it through his hair, drying up the excess water. Sighing, he walked over to the mirror and picked up his comb, then wiped away some of the condensation on the mirror, screaming in fright when Malfoy's face appeared behind his shoulder.

Malfoy burst out laughing as Harry turned around and punched him hard in the shoulder. "You bloody prick! How the hell-" Then Harry looked down at the fabric pooled around Malfoy's feet. "Malfoy, why do you have my Invisibility Cloak?" he asked though clenched teeth.

Malfoy grinned, rubbing his sore shoulder. "I found it in your things on Thursday, and kept it for myself when you weren't looking. This was how you broke all the rules in school and never got caught, isn't it?"

"Congratulations. You caught me. Four years too late."

Malfoy shrugged. "It was worth it. You scream like a girl."

"Shove off, Malfoy." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute! You saw me naked!" he exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Malfoy.

Malfoy scoffed. "Believe me, I made sure my head was turned."

"You're a pervert, Malfoy."

"Potter, don't accuse me of looking at your dick just because I'm gay."

"I wasn't," Harry said, feeling a little cowed.

"It sure sounded like it."

"I wasn't. I promise. Now will you go so I can get dressed?" he asked, picking up his cloak from the floor.

Malfoy shook his head. "No. I'm here to do your hair."

Harry groaned. "No. You cannot do my hair. There's nothing to be done with it."

"Then why do you have a comb?"

"To get out the tangles."

"Potter, your hair is too short to have tangles. I bet you just comb it to say you did. But it always looks so miserable. Why is that?"

"Because it does whatever it wants," Harry said with gritted teeth. When Malfoy stared at him, he finished, "Seriously."

"Doesn't matter. You can still make your hair do something other than look like you just got out of bed." Malfoy snatched the comb from Harry's hand and turned him around to start combing his hair from the back.

"Can't I go for that 'recently shagged' look?" Harry said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Cheeky monkey," Malfoy replied.

"Cheeky monkey? I really can't imagine Draco Malfoy would say something like that."

"Well, I said it. You don't need to use your imagination. But there is a difference between 'just out of bed' and 'recently shagged'. And - yes, that 'recently shagged and ready for more' look is what I'm going for."

"Ah. Well good. I'll be desired by all homosexuals from here to Manchester with Draco Malfoy, Knower of All Things Gay, by my side."

Malfoy flicked his shoulder. "Stop being a prat. And not all homosexuals will want you. I won't. And neither will the lesbians. Or anyone with half a brain. That last one including heterosexual women of course."

"I do so enjoy these little chats of ours."

"I think I enjoy them more."

Harry, unable to think of a good comeback, stood there and watched with blurry vision as Malfoy's pale hands ran through his hair, twisting it every which way. After several long moments, he moved away and said,

"There."

Harry looked dubious. "Er...Malfoy...it looks the same as always."

"That's because, Potter, you couldn't see good fashion if it bit you in the arse."

"Isn't it only going to get messed up once I put on my shirt?"

"Well, of course. But that just means you get to practice doing it yourself," Malfoy grinned.

Harry groaned. "Just...get out. Let me finish grooming myself in peace."

Malfoy chuckled and left Harry to his own devices.

Another long day with Malfoy. Great.

~~~~~

"Okay. Now why does this shirt not work on you?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "Malfoy, I don't know. I think we've already established that I have no fashion sense. Why don't you just tell me what to wear?"

"No. You need to understand it for yourself."

"Malfoy, I'm tired of playing dress-up."

"And now you're whining. Fine. This is the last one."

"Thank Merlin."

"Now tell me, why do you think this shirt doesn't work on you?"

Harry stared at his reflection. Malfoy made him put on a black fishnet shirt with his normal blue jeans, and that was all Harry could see that was wrong - except that the shirt felt too tight.

"It's too tight. And it doesn't go with my pants."

Malfoy nodded. "Good. Also, your shoulders are slightly too broad for this kind of shirt." Malfoy stood behind him and looked at his full-length reflection from over his shoulder. "You're a little broad for you height, but you're not stocky. We're actually about the same build, as much as it pains me to admit, but I'm taller, so I'm a little slimmer than you in the shoulders."

"You're only taller by four inches, Malfoy."

"Yes, but I'm still taller. With your build - and really, I'm surprised you filled out so well; you were really bloody scrawny in school - you'll look better in nice shirts with a belt and either slacks or jeans, depending on how casual you're going for. Suits would also look really great on you."

"Finally! We're done with Fashion 101." Harry grabbed the hem of the shirt and yanked it over his head, mussing up his already mussed hair and skewing his glasses. "Can we eat now? I'm starving."

"Fine, fine," Malfoy huffed as they left their room in search of food.

~~~~~

They were sitting on a park bench, watching pigeons and passers-by, eating gyros from a nearby cart, and left to their own thoughts; as neither was particularly keen on acting as if they were friends. Which they weren't. By any means of the word. But Harry was curious about one thing...

"Hey Malfoy?" Harry asked after a while.

"Yeah, Potter?" Draco replied.

"Can I...ask you a question?"

"That depends on the question, Potter."

"Well, it's kind of personal."

Draco mused as he chewed on a bite of lamb, pita, veggies, and tzatziki. "How about this. You ask me this 'kind of' personal question, and I'll let you know whether or not I'll answer it."

"Alright." Harry took a deep breath. "How did you know? That you were gay, I mean?"

Draco smirked. "Trying to figure out if you are?"

"Malfoy...would you please stop with that and just answer the question? I'm just curious. You said you thought you'd marry Pansy Parkinson, and I never thought of you as anything other than straight..."

"I can't exactly pin-point it, Potter. I liked Pansy. She was one of the few girls who didn't annoy or disgust me. She wasn't too clingy and she knew how to deal with my...rants. Or my moods, for lack of a better term. She got me, in other words. And she was the prettiest girl I knew. And she liked me." Draco wasn't sure what made him keep talking, but it wasn't as if it were a secret or anything. "And then sixth year happened. I'm sure you realise I didn't have much time for her. Or anyone, really. After that year, when I was mostly alone, and hiding from just about everyone, I realised that I didn't much miss Pansy like you'd think I would. I missed her company, but that was all. I actually found myself thinking about some of my more...envied housemates. And even the occasional Ravenclaw."

Harry, surprised at Draco's opening up, nervously ventured, "Can I ask who?"

"No, you may not. It's not important, anyway."

"Oh. Okay."

"So, to continue our little heart-to-heart, I starting thinking that perhaps when I was checking them out, I had actually been checking them out, and not just trying to make sure I was superior to them, which I was, but that's beside the point."

When Harry shot Draco a look, he said, "I'm really not as much of an ass as you make me out to be, Potter. It was a joke. I used to think that way, but I haven't. Not for a long time.

"Anyhow, I was confused, as most guys unsure of their sexuality are, because I still thought I could marry Pansy. I'd still marry her. If there were ever a girl I'd marry and have children with, it'd be her. She wouldn't make a horrible mother, actually."

"How'd she take it? When you told her?" Harry asked, trying to envision Pansy Parkinson as anything other than a pug-faced bitch.

"She was shocked, of course. But she soon realised she was the only girl for me, queer or not, and decided it was her right to be my personal fag hag."

"How'd you get involved in the Muggle scene?"

"So full of questions, Potter."

"Like I said, I'm curious. I never would have thought you'd ever associate with Muggles."

Draco finished off his gyro, and took a sip of his coke before continuing. "After I came out, I realised there were very few people in the Wizarding World that were queer. Or willing to admit it at least. And not many more were willing to accept it. So, I did some research. I exchanged some Galleons for some Quid, and picked up a few magazines with Muggle fashions, and a few on gay culture, where I could find them. Then I went to get my first suit tailored. The assistant was young, and some-what attractive, and he was obviously checking me out. When we were alone, I asked him if he knew of any good clubs in the area; I acted as though I was from out of town. He told me of a place and asked me to meet him there that night. I agreed, we danced, and he gave amazing head. That was all the confirmation of my sexuality I needed."

"Well, I could have done with out that last bit of information, but thanks for sharing."

"You're welcome, Potter," Draco smirked, standing and walking over to the rubbish bin to throw away his trash. "So, ready for your next lesson?"

~~~~~

"You should have told me there would be dancing, Malfoy. I never would have agreed-"

"Oh, that's rubbish, Potter. You need to know how to dance. And you want to learn, right? So you don't look like a fool in front of whatever girl you manage to snag."

"I doubt she'll love me for my amazing foot work."

"Well, if you want to keep James interested, you'll have to keep dancing. Come on, Potter. Let's go." Malfoy turned to an expensive-looking stereo on the table that Harry didn't recognise and put a CD in.

"Malfoy, where'd the stereo come from?"

"I went and got it from my flat this morning while you were asleep."

Harry frowned. "How does it work in your flat with all the magic around?"

Malfoy sighed. "It's all very complicated. My magic actually makes it work with out all that electricity stuff."

"But how? Hermione always told Ron and I that Muggle electronics couldn't work around magic - the electricity would react badly with it - it'd fry the circuitry."

"Only around large magical fields, like Hogwarts. Smaller amounts of magic actually act as a power source, if you don't have electricity. Makes wards around ordinary building stronger, too. Like I said, Potter. Magic and physics. All very complicated."

"Right."

Malfoy turned and pushed play. The song that came on had a moderate tempo, and sounded a bit like the music at the club, but slower.

"What kind of music is this?" Harry asked.

"German techno-pop," Draco replied as he pushed a few more buttons. "Wolfsheim."

"Oh. Okay."

"Okay, so Potter, the first thing you need to remember about dancing is relax. You've got to stay loose. So stop holding your breath this instant." Harry exhaled and Malfoy went on. "Second thing is to feel. Feel the music you're listening to."

"How do I do that?"

"Well, listening might help."

"Malfoy..."

"Okay, okay. I've put this song on repeat, so you can get used to it. Now close your eyes. Do you remember what I told you last night?"

"Not really. I was trying not to kill you."

"I told you to feel the beat of the music and how it changed your pulse."

"If people's pulses went this fast, they'd all die."

"Potter, you're being difficult. Just keep your eyes closed and listen. Don't move." Harry did as he was told and heard Malfoy move and then the music turned down to a really low level; so low that Harry could barely make out the lyrics. "Every song has low levels of frequency; sound waves that you can feel when you can't hear them. Listen. There isn't a lot of bass - I turned it down really low. But you should still be able to feel it, as if it was loud and vibrating through the floor. It still pulses."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't get it Malfoy. It sounds like rubbish." He opened his eyes and frowned at Malfoy.

Malfoy glared. "Close your eyes, Potter. If you can't at least listen to the beat of the music, you can't possibly hope to dance with it, can you?"

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and tried to feel the beat, which he could hardly hear. He was straining to hear the music above his own breathing, so when Malfoy suddenly grabbed his hand and put it on his bare chest, his eyes snapped open and he tried to pull away, yelling, "What the hell, Malfoy? When'd you take your shirt off?"

"When your eyes were closed, Potter," he stated, as if it were obvious. "Come on, stop struggling. I'm not trying to molest you."

Harry stopped tugging, glaring at Malfoy. "Then what's your point?"

"If you can't feel it on your own, feel it in me. Close your eyes again. When you hear a song, and especially when you know it well, your breaths swell with the harmony, and your heart changes it's own beat. Feel."

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the sweat building in his palm against Malfoy's skin, and how warm his chest was, but how cold his hand was over his own.

He could feel it though. Malfoy's heartbeat was faster than his own, and when the music swelled, Malfoy's chest rose with another breath.

"Can you feel it now?" Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry exhaled as Malfoy did. "Yes. I - I can."

"Good. Now continue to keep your eyes closed. I'm going to put my hands on your waist."

Swallowing nervously, Harry said, "Okay."

"And when I move your hips to your right, I want you to move your left foot in one step, then out one step. Then I'll move your hips to your left, and I want you to move your right foot in one step then back out one step. Do you understand? Do you need me to show you?"

"No, I think I got it," Harry said, feeling nervous and trusting at the same time. It was a strange feeling.

"Okay. Every other beat. Here we go." Malfoy breathed in, and Harry found himself still breathing with him, and as they exhaled, Malfoy put pressure on Harry's hip, and the shorter man remembered to move his left foot in then out, feeling a little ridiculous and stiff.

"Relax. You're tensing again," Malfoy whispered.

Still with eyes closed, Harry frowned, and concentrated on listening and moving like Malfoy instructed him to. He could feel that Malfoy was taking the same steps, and it comforted him somewhat, but then his own footing snagged, and he grabbed onto Malfoy's shoulders for balance, snapping his eyes open again.

Malfoy was close. Closer than Harry thought, even with all their touching limbs. He immediately took a few steps back, losing contact.

"You were doing well. Very well," Malfoy said, smiling a small smile that Harry had never seen before.

"You.... You're a good teacher. You've never been that patient before. That I've seen," Harry replied, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, feeling stupid.

"How do you think Crabbe and Goyle ever got through school?"

Harry chuckled quietly. "I don't know. I never thought about it."

Malfoy smirked. "There's a lot you don't know about me. But that's for another time. Are you ready to kick it up a notch? A step on every beat? You can keep your eyes open this time, and just follow my lead."

"Okay. Yeah," Harry said, confidence renewed, "I think I can do that."

"Alright. I'm turning the music up a bit." Malfoy turned to do just that, and the room filled with the same music, just as it was fading out. "We'll start back up when the music does," Malfoy said.

Harry nodded his understanding, and waited. The music started again, without the central beat Harry heard before. Then it sounded like the song came to life, and he watched as Malfoy started moving his feet to the beat, keeping his arms bent at the elbow, but his torso and hips moved a little too, arching slightly with every other step. He looked so relaxed and natural, moving like that, and it took Malfoy talking to him to snap Harry out of his trance and get him moving. He started off feeling awkward again, and almost tripped once more, but Malfoy put his hands on his hips, and he felt his beloved training wheels slip back into place. It was too bad he'd never owned a bicycle before; so he could have known what it felt like to finally take the training wheels off and ride free on his own.

~~~~~

It was when Potter tripped the first time and snapped his eyes open to look up into Draco's that he knew.

He was falling for the bastard.

Okay, so maybe "falling" was too strong a word. Perhaps "liking in a plutonic way" or "feeling a modicum of interest for" might have been better terms. He certainly wasn't falling for The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Man-That-Draco-Had-To-Help-Survive-The-Muggle-Gay-Scene. The very idea was preposterous.

And yet, here he was, actually enjoying himself with the blighter.

Once Potter was going, he started flowing more naturally with the movement, and put his arms around Draco's neck and watched their feet as they moved to the moderate beat of the song. What Potter didn't know, of course, was that Draco also put the song off "repeat", and in about ten seconds, the song would change to something a bit faster and a lot more energising. And when it did, Draco would have a lot of fun catching Harry as he fell again.

This could actually be a problem worth panicking about, if Draco Malfoy ever panicked.

And when Potter did trip, Draco was there to catch him, laugh, and pull the brunet into another round of dancing, turning him into a spin that ended with them sprawled out on the floor, Draco on top, and very content on not moving, to his own personal horror.

Potter stared up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, obviously just realising the position they were in, and most likely intent on changing it here in the next half a second. They were spared, luckily, of strange apologies and awkwardness by the phone ringing.

"I'll get it!" Potter exclaimed, ducking out from under Draco as the blond moved to stand.

Draco watched as Potter dashed to the phone sitting on the table between their beds, picking it up and answering it with a rushed, "Hello?"

The blond, true to his nature, felt a little miffed. It was as if Potter were embarrassed. Or afraid. It wasn't as if Draco was actually going to try anything, for Merlin sakes. It was Potter. Definitely not Draco's type in the first place. It was really just being near him for so long that was getting to Draco's head. So Potter wasn't actually all that bad a guy. So what? It didn't mean that Draco was attracted to him or anything. He really was just trying to make sure Potter didn't do something stupid, like fall for the Muggle bastard, who apparently was on the phone.

And Draco wasn't trying to reassure himself. Of anything. There was nothing to be reassured about.

"Tonight? Oh, yeah, I think I can do that. What time?" Potter said into the receiver, and Draco felt compelled to turn the music down a bit. But only so Potter didn't have to talk so loudly. Not because he wanted to eavesdrop.

"Eight? I can be ready. Do you want to meet me in the lobby? Okay. Yeah. How casual is this? Okay. I'll meet you downstairs in two hours, then. Good-bye Sameson."

Potter hung up and turned to Draco, who turned off the music completely. "I've got a date tonight."

"With the Muggle?"

"With James, yes. He's taking me out to dinner at a little Chinese place in Chelsea. I've got to go shower."

Draco barely had time to remind Potter that he was to be on com at all times, and that Draco would be in the restaurant too, before the overly-eager straight man closed the bathroom door to shower and get ready for his "date" with another guy.

Draco frowned. I either really freaked him out, or he actually likes this guy.

This could be a bigger problem than I originally thought.