Bond DVD Extras

Extra Scenes #1, Chapters 4-5, All About UST

1. Day 23, Wednesday, October 21, Harry, I may never stop taking this patience potion, thought Draco dazedly as he valiantly tried to ignore the sight and sounds of Potter dreaming about something... interesting.

2. Day 23, Wednesday, October 21, Harry, "Finite incantatum. Now, unless you wish to be expelled immediately, follow me quietly to my office," Dumbledore said, his gentle tone at odds with his stern words. Snape approached with their wands in hand, motioning them towards the door.

(Scene 1) Day 23, Wednesday

You know what you want. You know what you need, Ron says, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. His rook nods vigorously, and winks at Harry's queen.

I don't want it.

You do. Look at him.

He does look incredible, and Harry's been wanting to touch him for so long, and he's been so hard for so long he's slowly going insane. And the pointy-faced git just sits there, looking like he could just wait for Harry forever. Harry can't help feeling a little angry at him. Maybe it's not fair, but the thing is, Ron's not acting normal. There is no way that Ron should be smiling at Malfoy and clapping him on the back and nudging him over to where Harry's sitting. And there's no way Ron should grin at Harry as if to say, See? I told you this would make you happy. Somewhere pigs are doing aerial cartwheels through hell, and dodging snowballs.

Harry probably shouldn't be kissing Malfoy - kissing is supposedly more for girls, isn't it? Do boys like to kiss? Damn it, this would be a lot easier if he'd had some kind of experience with this kind of thing, and not just Cho crying on him, pissed of at him for having thought she was Malfoy for a moment. Then again, she wanted Harry to be Cedric, so this kind of makes them even.

It would be really nice if Malfoy was looking more like his usual sneering self, and Harry could just push him away, but Malfoy's looking serious and telling him he's taking a patience potion. Malfoy, admitting he needs help in order to deal with Harry. Making Harry feel about three feet tall, because Malfoy's impatient with him in part because he's Malfoy, and impatience is how he reacts to Harry, but also in part because Harry is acting like a scared child and he knows it.

Somebody said Esposito means "little husband" in Latin^*. Which Harry's pretty sure isn't true, for all that his Latin is mostly confined to magical terms. Still, funny that she should be dealing with two little husbands, though Fred says the correct term for spouses of the same sex is "spouse," not husband or wife, no idea why. Funny that the wizarding world would have terms like that.

We're not like the Muggle world, Malfoy sneers. And then comes closer to catch Harry's mouth in a kiss, and Harry's surprised but leans into it, since Malfoy's not going to turn into Cho or cry at him. It's ridiculous, being a little husband, having people think you're married, when you're not even done school and all there is to your "marriage" is this burning need to - and Malfoy's so warm. Harry's wondered at that since they started sharing a bed, how Malfoy's body temperature is always much higher than his own. And right now his skin is burning Harry's, it's like he's in the Prefect's bathroom in the large bathtub - without Myrtle - with the water as hot as he can make it, and he wants more. Hermione looks up from her Latin dictionary and raises her eyebrows, a little shocked, and he turns away, needing to feel all of Malfoy's skin against his, their clothing disappearing in a flash, admiring the way Malfoy's hands are so incredibly sensitive and strong, and hungrily taking in the sight of Malfoy's bare body, so pale, looks so cold but the feeling is just - and he's got long, lean muscles that flex over his chest, Seeker's build, it's just...

Harry's tried so hard to not look at him very much, especially since they share a bed and he regularly sees Malfoy wearing very little. He doesn't know when he went from extreme interest in girls' cleavage, once even growing pink when Hermione noticed him staring at the way her blouse gaped open interestingly, and he'd meant to tell her to button it up-

I never believed that, you know, she smirks at him. Exactly when were you going to tell me?

Somehow sometime in the last few weeks he's lost all interest in cleavage. Now he's got an obsession with Malfoy's lips, his hair, the way he moves, all grace and strength, and fantasizing about what Hannah Abbott's small breasts feel like has ended, and he kind of misses it. It's been replaced by wondering what it would feel like to pull Malfoy close in passion, not just the innocent embrace they regularly fall asleep to. Really feel him against his body, all heat and hard angles, and he can't hold back a moan, this is way too fast but he's so close, Malfoy's arms are pulling him closer, and he's whispering in Harry's ear, things Harry can't really make out because the heat from Malfoy's body - and his own - is kind of overwhelming, what the hell is he DOING, they've become used to touching each other all the time but this is different. He's pushing against Malfoy, rubbing against him and Malfoy's either going to kill him or burn him up. Malfoy's grinding against him too, gasping, hard as a rock, then his hand is - oh god - and what little Harry can hear has something to do with Not even a Death Eater, I wasn't going to, I love you, and besides, the war's over, and Harry draws back, dizzy, and frowns at Malfoy.

You twit, whispers Malfoy urgently, it's been over for years, and I need you, I need you so fucking badly, it's been years, please, and Malfoy's pleading with him, saying things Harry didn't know he could say, so hungry for him it's making Harry lose all ability to breathe or reason, and he can't quite believe what he's doing, he's lying back on the bed and drawing Malfoy on top of him Don't forget what the Healer talked about, Pomfrey tells Malfoy sternly, you're going to need to prepare a little more than that.

God, yes, he's desperate for Malfoy to finally take him, to feel him inside, to seal the bond that's been between them for so long, it's been so many years and Malfoy's on top of him, hands setting him on fire, he's harder than he's ever been and he's begging Malfoy to touch him, so ready to be his, so ready to be - shaken, roughly. And have a blinding light shoved into his eyes.

"Wha?" Harry's eyes snapped open and he stared at Malfoy, not on top of him in the dark but beside him, wearing a t-shirt - wait, what?

"Potter, wake up," Malfoy said roughly. "You're having a wet dream and it's playing hell with my nerves."

A what? Harry tried to catch his breath, trying to figure out why they'd stopped. He - they weren't in their room, they were in the Gryffindor dorm - wait, was that where they were going to- "Oh. Um... oh," he blinked, slowly detaching reality from a dream that still felt so vivid, so there, Malfoy whispering all sorts of things into his ear, and he was still so hard, he was so close, still burning - he shifted a bit.

"Stop that!" Malfoy said sharply.

"You must be joking," he said weakly, turning onto his stomach and closing his eyes, and if it was possible to feel gratitude from a body part, right now one particular appendage was singing his praises for bringing sweet pressure back. "I can't just slam on the brakes," he whispered, "You've no idea how close-"

"I've a very good idea," Malfoy said tensely, and continued in a voice that was so different from the voice in his dream that Harry started to get dizzy and he clapped a hand over Malfoy's mouth without thinking.

"Shut up," Harry whispered, "I don't care what you do, take care of yourself for all I care, I can't - oh," he bit his lip, his other hand disappearing under the covers, firmly shutting up the part of his mind that popped up to inform him that wanking off in front of Malfoy wasn't something he was terribly comfortable with. Anything, anything, he was comfortable with anything that took the burning away, that brought him closer to sweet release, and it seemed Malfoy was doing the same, gasping and rustling the covers, and Harry could feel his excitement - oh, oh thank god...

OH thank GOD...

Oh...

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Oh god. What the hell had that been all about? I love you, the war's over?

Oh god. God and hell and shit and Merlin and Mordred and there weren't swear words enough for how mortified he felt. If Malfoy had picked up any of what he was dreaming...

He was sticky, and shaking, and out of breath and still so bloody hot, and if it was possible to disappear into thin air now would be exactly the right time to do it. He'd once blown up his aunt. And freed a snake. Why did his involuntary magic have to pick right now to deny him the satisfaction of an extreme, hysterical display of power, to take his mind off the extreme embarrassment flooding through him?

Well, he told himself as he tried to steady his breathing, there was at least one positive side to this situation: the day could only get better from here.

ooooooo

* Esposito actually means "little husband" in Spanish. Not being a native Latin-speaker, I have no idea whether or not it means the same thing in Latin ;)

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(Scene 2) Day 23, Wednesday

"Finite incantatum. Now, unless you wish to be expelled immediately, follow me quietly to my office," Dumbledore said, his gentle tone at odds with his stern words. Snape approached with their wands in hand, motioning them towards the door.

Harry swallowed hard and followed them meekly, eyes on the floor as they silently walked past hundreds of staring students and staff in the Great Hall. Feeling paradoxically more frozen than he had felt under the brief immobilizing spell. Registering numbness mixed with dread from Malfoy, silently walking beside him as they left the Great Hall.

Beside him. Inexplicably, the fury and wild hatred towards Malfoy that he'd felt mere moments ago was completely gone, replaced by a bewildering urge to stay as close to him as possible. Because, he realized, they were in this together, both in the deepest of shit, following Dumbledore and McGonagall and Snape to god only knew what punishment. And all the other students, even his closest friends, were back in the Great Hall, and only Malfoy could possibly have any idea of what Harry was going through right now, or any chance of giving him any comfort whatsoever.

Comfort? No, that wasn't the word he was looking for. Understanding or sympathy, maybe.

Blood was still pouring down his face, and he knew there was no point in wiping at it, but he tried anyway. His nose felt broken. The dull ache was the only thing he could really feel, besides Malfoy's fear. He spared Malfoy a quick glance, taking in his ashen features and the trickle of blood down his face - a split lip, from the looks of it, from the solid punch Harry had given him. Harry rubbed his knuckles, noting a few small cuts - probably from Malfoy's teeth. He took a deep breath as they went into the hospital, bracing himself for Madam Pomfrey's reaction.

"Poppy!" McGonagall called out, and Pomfrey looked up from the scroll she was writing on and blanched at the sight before her.

"You're not - did they-" she turned to Snape, who nodded tersely. Pomfrey's eyes widened and her mouth worked for a moment. "How - how could you?" she said, white with anger as she rose and approached them. "Of all the - what is the matter with you two?!"

She whipped out her wand, nodding at Malfoy to sit on the nearest bed, and pulled Harry closer, ignoring his gasp of pain at her touch.

"I'll leave their wands in your safe-box, Poppy," Snape told her as she began her examination. "And I'm leaving Mr. Malfoy in your care while I contact his parents."

Harry felt a pang of alarm from Malfoy. "N-no - Professor, please-" Malfoy began, starting to rise.

"Sit down, Draco," Snape snapped at him, in the angriest voice Harry had ever heard him use on Malfoy. "This is not a simple schoolboy fight. This is far too serious not to call your parents." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the hospital wing, his robes billowing behind him.

Harry was suddenly inexplicably reminded of Ginny speculating as to whether or not Snape said to himself "I shall now execute my Billowing Exit" whenever he left a room in that particular fashion. Sternly squashed down completely inappropriate laughter at the memory.

"I'll contact Healer Esposito when I'm done with these two," Pomfrey said to McGonagall as she waved her wand at Harry's face. Harry felt his nose heal with a sharp crack, and cried out in shock and pain. Pomfrey glared at him and jerked her head at the bed, motioning him to take Malfoy's place as she waved Malfoy closer. Harry got the distinct feeling that the unusually painful healing had been deliberate.

He touched his nose gingerly, glancing at Malfoy, who was wincing as Pomfrey waved her wand over his lip, sealing the cut.

"Sit," she barked at him, motioning him over to Harry, and he did so hastily.

Shite, they were in trouble. Really, really big trouble. Harry wasn't quite sure why, but he'd rarely seen either McGonagall or Pomfrey so angry; though both were often annoyed, they seldom went past that. But now... even Dumbledore looked sombre.

"Erm, I'm-" he began, and faltered as the adults all looked at him. He swallowed hard. "We... it was just a fight-"

McGonagall and Pomfrey both began to speak and were waved into silence by Dumbledore.

"No, Harry, it was not," he said quietly. "If you were still simply classmates, this would merely be yet another example of your mutual hostility, and you would no doubt have earned yourselves several detentions and loss of points or privileges." He paused, his blue eyes deadly serious. "You are spouses. You broke bones and damaged school property. If you hadn't been stopped, you would have hexed one another. This is serious."

Harry nodded glumly. Beside him, Malfoy cleared his throat. "May we go change and pick up our things from the Great Hall?" he asked, and his voice, while nervous, sounded remarkably steady and calm, considering the fear Harry could feel bubbling under his cool exterior.

"You're welcome to do any wandless cleaning charms you can, but you're not leaving the hospital," Pomfrey said grimly.

"Your school things will be picked up by house elves," McGonagall added.

They glanced at each other and subsided into silence as the adults bustled about. Remained silent as Esposito, Lupin, and the Malfoys were contacted and a time and place was set for an emergency meeting about their "situation."

Situation, thought Harry. What a nice word to describe how completely and utterly buggered up his life had become.

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"All right, we're ready to begin," Esposito said, once all were gathered in a small sitting room next to Dumbledore's office. Harry started to stand up and Esposito waved him back to his seat, fixing him with a kind but firm look. "Not you, gentlemen. You are in no shape to contribute to this discussion. We will decide what to do, and you will abide by our decisions. You may as well get comfortable." She gestured around at the small room as the rest of them started to move into Dumbledore's office.

Harry looked from one unyielding face to another and swallowed back his protest. Even Lupin looked grim and determined, though slightly less disappointed in Harry than he'd seemed upon first arrival. Harry sat back down.

Stood up as soon as the adults had left the small room, unable to remain sitting and trying to ignore the crawling sensation on the back of his neck at the knowledge that he was being watched by all the portraits on the walls.

This was bad. This was very, very bad, and he needed to do something about it. He needed to find some solution to this "situation", before he was forced to accept any solution from the adults. He needed to find some way of maintaining control over his life.

He bit back a bitter laugh. What control. He had no control whatsoever. Never mind not being able to attend the meeting going on right now, never mind having to submit to whatever the adults decided at that meeting. Since that miserable day in September he'd lost practically all control over everything in his life: who he spent his time with, where he lived, what he felt...

Small snippets of the conversation in Dumbledore's office kept popping up every so often as he paced. "I think that's going a little too far," McGonagall could be heard saying at one point, but the reply was too soft for Harry to hear.

He swallowed hard, torn between wanting to try to figure his way out of this mess and not wanting to even think about it. Wanting to pretend that all they were discussing in Dumbledore's office was what kind of detention to give them, and for how long. Maybe calling Filch in to see what unpleasant tasks he needed help with. Scrubbing toilets. Dealing with Mrs. Norris' cat litter.

He swallowed again, pacing restlessly and trying to ignore the whispering portraits keeping an eye on them, ready to report to the adults if he or Malfoy tried anything.

They weren't going to get detentions. What had happened had happened because they were both far too tense to be able to deal with each other rationally, and that tension was there because they weren't doing what the bond wanted them to do. The easiest way to make the tension go away was to give in to the bond, and the easiest way to do that was to...

God, what would that be like? To have a potion forced down his throat, feel his attraction to Malfoy get out of his control, make him touch Malfoy and pull him closer and let him-

Damn it, he was getting hard. He didn't want this, his whole being rebelled against it, he wanted to keep fighting it with all his strength... but part of him actually wanted to be forced into taking whatever would do the trick. Because he'd have to, then. He wouldn't have a choice any more, he wouldn't be able to fight it, he would have to surrender. And his surrender would be compelled, but it wouldn't be rape, because he'd want it...

Besides, what would happen after that was going to happen anyway. As sure as the sun came up in the morning, as sure as Hermione could be counted on to quote Hogwarts: A History at inappropriate times, he was going to have sex with Draco Malfoy eventually. The only thing he had any control over was when it happened and how, and he was shortly going to lose even that.

"There is no need to-" Harry heard Lupin's voice, but was unable to hear the rest of the sentence over the whispering of the portraits.

Malfoy probably wouldn't give a damn, Harry thought as he spared him a resentful glance. Malfoy was probably hoping for exactly that: a potion force-fed to Harry so that Harry would stop fighting him. Malfoy was probably even looking forward to it.

Except he wasn't, Harry realized. He was sitting on the couch, face paler than usual, deeply, deeply scared and trying very hard not to show it.

Harry closed his eyes, attempting to sort out Malfoy's feelings.

Fear. Dread. Nothing else.

"This is impossible. They are impossible," Snape said, and Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or deeply disturbed that even Snape apparently thought Harry wasn't the only problem here.

He glanced at Malfoy again. Stopped pacing and tried to sort himself out.

All right. Malfoy was in this with him; not only in the same deep shit as Harry, but also just as scared of whatever was going on behind the closed door. And Harry probably couldn't come up with any way to convince the adults to just let them be, but maybe if he and Malfoy worked together, they could come up with something. Malfoy was a rather unlikely ally, but he would probably be easier to work with than the band of adults in the other room.

Harry took a deep breath.

"Malfoy," he said, and cursed the unsteadiness of his voice. Malfoy looked up warily, and Harry cleared his throat. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Brilliant powers of observation, Potter," Malfoy said tiredly, and Harry found the lack of fire in his sneer rather alarming. "What was your first hint?"

"What-" Harry stopped, cleared his throat again. "What do you think they'll decide?"

"No clue."

"I... I have a feeling I won't like it."

"I doubt I will either," Malfoy said. "I'm not sure they can decide anything, though. We are both adults."

"They may not be able to force us to do anything, but they can make things difficult for us if we don't obey. We could be expelled. Or disowned or something, in your case."

"My father wouldn't disown me."

"Really? What would he do instead?" Malfoy frowned and Harry decided to cut to the chase as quickly as possible. "Malfoy... what could he do to you, that makes you so afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid of him," Malfoy said quickly.

"Bollocks," Harry shot back. "You are. You're not all that concerned about what Dumbledore or anybody else at school might do, but you're terrified of the fact that your father is in there with them."

"Does the bond now include Legilimency for you? No? Then don't presume to tell me how I'm feeling and why."

"I don't need Legilimency. I know how you feel, and it's the same way you felt that day in the hospital when you contradicted him in public. You nearly had a heart attack."

"We'd just been through a lot of stress-"

"Nothing to do with it," Harry stated. "You were afraid of him."

Malfoy bit his lip and Harry was suddenly unsure whether pushing him more would only serve to antagonize him, or whether backing off would only give him time to retreat and refuse to talk. He tried to reach out through the bond, trying to figure out what Malfoy was feeling. Quickly gave up, as there were too many conflicting emotions to make sense of them.

Finally Malfoy swallowed and spoke up. "Do you have a point, Potter?"

OK, good. At least he was willing to listen. "I don't want to just do whatever they say," Harry began.

"Neither do I. We don't exactly have a choice, though, do we?"

Harry took a deep breath. "We're not handling this terribly well."

"Once again, your powers of detecting the thoroughly obvious-"

"Shut up," Harry said impatiently. "We're under pressure from everybody and from ourselves, and even though you're taking a patience potion, it's not enough to cope with how you feel about me or my friends, and your school work on top of that."

"Thank you, Potter. I never would have reached those conclusions on my own-"

"And I can't handle how I feel about you, I hate the way you treat me and my friends and how fucked up your entire worldview is, and I'm sick of being on display for everyone at school to talk about, and..." Harry gathered himself and made himself finish, feeling like he was stepping off a cliff. "And, and I'm fucking terrified of letting you get close to me, or letting myself get close to you."

Malfoy's mouth dropped open. They stared at each other, and Harry made himself maintain eye contact despite the crawling sensation of having extended his trust to someone so untrustworthy, even on something as relatively small as admitting one of his fears.

Finally Malfoy cleared his throat. "All right," he said slowly. "I take it you do have a point, then? What is it?"

"We need to work things out, between the two of us."

"We've tried."

"No, we haven't. We've been existing next to each other and trying to muddle through and accepting advice every so often from other people. We haven't talked much at all."

"We did this morning."

"Did a pretty good job of it, too," Harry pointed out, and was a bit startled as a small smile quirked Malfoy's mouth.

"Yeah, we did," said Malfoy.

"So it is possible. For us to work things out, I mean."

"I suppose so," Malfoy said sceptically.

"So let's try. Do you want to drop out of classes?"

"No." There was a long pause. "I don't. But we're not getting any useful learning right now. I can barely concentrate long enough to write my name on a piece of parchment."

Harry smiled ruefully. "I know the feeling. I keep feeling like I have to fight to clear my head all the time, because if I don't-" he stopped. Damn, this was not where he wanted to take this conversation. He sent a firm reprimand in the direction of his pants. "Well, you can probably guess what I end up thinking about," he muttered.

"Probably," Malfoy said dryly.

Harry drew in a deep breath, moved closer to Malfoy. "How I feel - how we both feel - it's so bloody wrong."

"Why? It's just sexual attraction. Don't tell me you've never felt that before."

"Not this badly."

"Why is that so wrong?"

"Because I don't want to feel this. We don't love each other. We don't even like each other. I don't want to-"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, cutting him off. "Potter, we're seventeen. Love and like don't have to enter the equation when it comes to sex."

"I'm scared," Harry blurted, wincing but forcing himself to not withdraw. Better to talk about this with Malfoy than with his father.

"Of what?" Malfoy asked, and Harry took heart from the fact that he hadn't immediately mocked Harry for admitting his fear.

"Getting hurt."

"You're getting hurt right now," Malfoy pointed out. "I almost hexed you into next year a few hours ago. We weren't going to do anything like a Giggle Spell or turn each other green; we were both going to do serious damage. You're miserable, and so am I. How could having sex be worse than all of this?"

Harry shrugged. "Fear of the unknown, I suppose."

"Out of curiosity, what do you think they're going to decide in there?"

"To give me some potion or something to - to make me not fight this any more," Harry felt his face heating and turned away.

"Potter..." Harry started as he felt Malfoy put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Why would that be the end of the world?"

"Because, because then I wouldn't have any control over anything-"

"You don't have much control now-"

"I don't want to-" Harry started to move away, but Malfoy held on.

"They may not, you know," Malfoy said, almost gently, and Harry shivered, crossing his arms defensively. "Potter. You're panicking again," said Malfoy, and Harry felt, like a physical touch, Malfoy projecting calm at him.

Which was all right, he told himself. This was one of the only good things about the bond. He could certainly take advantage of Malfoy's clearer head over this part of their dilemma, if it helped him feel steadier and helped them work together.

They could talk this out, decide what to do, how to make sure the adults didn't push them into doing anything they didn't want to do. Maybe give them more time to work together, give them another chance - or rather, give him another chance - to do this on his own schedule. Malfoy had said before that he didn't want Harry under some potion. Maybe Harry could capitalise on that, help Malfoy stand against his father, if need be.

He absently covered Malfoy's hand with his own as he tried to steady himself, hardly aware of what he was doing, and then... oh, no, that had been a bad idea, because Malfoy... he was warm, Malfoy was always so warm, so damned alive and he... pulled at Harry somehow. His presence was no better than a potion, really, drawing him to Malfoy, making Harry want what he shouldn't want - what he didn't want, damn it, despite the fact that he was somehow drawing closer to Malfoy.

And his presence did the same thing to Malfoy. Even Malfoy's fear right now couldn't dampen his attraction to Harry, his longing to get closer, touch, feel.

And Harry felt the same way, which wasn't right, but it was so hard to hold back, to go against what his body wanted. And... and holding back hadn't gotten them anywhere so far. Other than here, in Dumbledore's office, while the adults decided their future and the portraits gossiped about them.

And right now Harry was too tired and scared and defeated to keep fighting this. He couldn't fight it all the time, he would go with it for just a moment - just a moment, then he would pull back and they would continue to talk and come to some sort of agreement, but for now, this was what he needed the most and he couldn't have stopped if Voldemort himself had stepped in front of him right now.

Yes...

Harry drew closer. He could feel Malfoy's heart racing, could feel just how desperately Malfoy wanted this, but he was hanging on by a thread and refusing to let himself move. Which was paradoxically comforting and frustrating, because as much as Harry wanted to do this on his own time, it was awfully difficult to take that first step. Their hands were clasped together and he could feel Malfoy's breath, and as Harry looked down and rested his forehead against him Malfoy gasped, startling Harry. He looked up slowly, almost dream-like, gazing into Malfoy's grey eyes, drawing his hand up Malfoy's arm, to his cheek, unable to breathe as Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, overwhelming Harry with his inner turmoil, with the feel of him trembling at Harry's touch.

Malfoy was finally moving, very carefully drawing Harry closer, and Harry tried so hard not to shake, but it was almost impossible. It was too much. Malfoy's breathing was laboured, his eyes clouded and unlike Harry had ever seen them. No mocking or superiority, just knife-edged desire and intense anticipation.

"Oh god," Harry heard a low voice say, barely recognizing it as his own, as he hesitantly touched Malfoy's hair, the back of his neck - so soft, so warm, were boys supposed to feel like this? Was he supposed to want to touch him more, want to kiss him? What would happen if he tried to, and Malfoy laughed at him? He moved forward tentatively until their bodies were touching very slightly, noting without much surprise that Malfoy was as hard as he was and slightly confused as Malfoy stepped back a bit. Not because he was offended or because he didn't want to touch Harry, but because he was...

Harry suppressed a laugh. "Don't know quite what to do now, do you?"

Malfoy looked sheepish. "Er... no."

"And I thought I was the inexperienced one," Harry said, drawing his hand over Malfoy's cheek and watching Malfoy sigh and close his eyes and pull them close together, which was extremely - well, it wasn't unpleasant at all.

It was the exact opposite, actually. Malfoy's eyes were still closed, giving Harry the chance to watch him without awkwardness, let his fingers caress Malfoy's neck, yes, his hair really was that silky, and Malfoy dropped his head back, sighing softly.

"That's OK?" Harry asked quietly, and watched a shiver run through Malfoy, watched his pulse beating wildly in his throat. Malfoy brought a hand to Harry's face and he leaned into it, impulsively kissing Malfoy's palm, startling a bit as Malfoy pulled back - damn, that had been the wrong thing to do, apparently-

"No, don't stop, that was - um, don't stop-" Malfoy murmured, and they were so close he could feel the other boy's breath on his face.

They both wanted this, so damned much. With every fibre of their being, they both needed it. Malfoy moved forward, so very slightly, and Harry drew in his breath as their emotions spiralled out of control - and he bridged the last tiny distance between their mouths and hesitantly touched his lips to Malfoy's.

Soft. Soft, and warm, god oh god, he'd had no idea it would feel like this. Malfoy's lips were the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in his life. Dimly part of his brain popped up to tell him that wasn't possible, and even if it was, it was wrong, but that part of his brain was remarkably easy to ignore. He let out a soft sigh as Malfoy moved a bit, brushing against him. Harry tentatively parted his lips and felt the tip of Malfoy's tongue barely touching his lips, and he moved to touch Malfoy's tongue with his own.

God, that felt good - he made a sound in his throat, kissing Malfoy with a bit more confidence, pulling him closer, more determined, wanting so much more...

And then he was lost. Like his first time flying, every emotion so powerful and scary and wonderful and overwhelming.

Nothing but sensation, nothing but bliss. Lips and tongues moving together, Malfoy's long, lean muscles under Harry's hands, their hearts beating together, Malfoy's scent overwhelming him, Malfoy's fingers moving through his hair and sending shivers down Harry's back. Making him hard as a rock - and Malfoy was too, Harry could feel hard heat pressing against him, sending sparks through him, and if they could just keep doing this forever and never let go, Harry would try to track down whoever cast the curse and send them flowers - which probably made no sense logistically, he realized, but really, who cared.

God, it was like every wet dream he'd had in weeks was coming true, and was even better than what he'd imagined. He hadn't dreamt of the rightness of Malfoy's arms around him, the small sounds their lips made as they moved together, the heat from Malfoy's tongue, the tremors coursing through Malfoy feeling so erotic and intense for Harry as well. The gratification of knowing that he was the one making Malfoy lose himself like this, the one overwhelming Malfoy with excitement and pleasure.

God, yes...

God, this was...

Um. This was getting a little...

... a little too hot for Dumbledore's sitting room.

"Um." Harry broke their kiss, pulled away briefly. "We should, we should probably-" Malfoy's fingers tightened on the back of his neck and he came back to Malfoy's mouth, unable to stop a small moan, which turned into a groan as Malfoy pulled back.

"Yeah, we should," Malfoy whispered, his eyes still closed. "We should - um," Harry smiled as Malfoy pulled him in for another kiss, breathlessly adding "we need to st-" before Harry covered his mouth again, allowing himself one last deep kiss before reluctantly pushing himself away.

"No, no, we have to-" He gasped put one hand on Malfoy's chest, pushing him back gently. God, how completely frustrating - more so because he could feel Malfoy's frustration as well as his own, and they were both so tightly wound it was rather agonizing. He put his forehead against Malfoy's shoulder, barely restraining himself from saying to hell with it and going right back to snogging him. "God, I'd no idea stopping would be this um, hard," he muttered, and Malfoy chuckled.

"Um, yeah. That part's never fun."

"Oh good," Esposito's cheerful voice broke through the haze and Harry nearly had a heart attack. She chuckled at their startled reaction. "I thought you were never going to come up for air."