Like a House on Fire

"Have you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Harry Potter, in the Great Hall, wearing tights!"

"Oh my stars! Come on!"

*****

If I survive this, Harry Potter thought darkly. I am never, ever listening to Virginia Weasley again.

He looked out over the sea of students, every one dead silent, every face turned to stare at him and reaffirmed that vow over and over again. As he hurried to his customary place at the Gryffindor table, acutely conscious of his absurd outfit and humiliating sign, he added another thought.

If I survive this, he vowed. Draco Malfoy won't.

He quickly settled into his seat, ignoring the looks and snickers he received from his fellow Gryffindor students. Looking up at the head table, he noticed Dumbledore had half-risen from his seat. Seeing Harry eyeing him, the old Headmaster smiled knowingly and settled back into his chair without a word. Harry wasn't sure if he would ever forgive Dumbledore for not doing anything..

Hermione prodded him.

"Do we get an explanation?" she asked, part censure, part amusement.

"Binding magical contract," Harry muttered sourly.

"Inventive git, isn't he?" Run murmured. Then, "So, how do we get him back?"

Harry stared at his friend, a whole realm of possibilities panning out before him. Revenge would be infinitely sweet. Then he realised...

"Not possible, Ron," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because... it's about more than just this. It's between me and him."

"You mean, us and him," Ron corrected.

Harry smiled gratefully, but shook his head again.

"Oh no, this is way more personal. It's between me and him and I'm going to make that stuck-up, spoiled git regret this until the end of his days."

"I don't like the idea of you facing him alone, Harry."

It was Hermione, the soul of solicitousness.

"He can't beat me."

"But he has already," Ron broke in.

Harry did not appreciate being reminded of that fact.

Harry had never been so grateful to escape breakfast. As he almost ran down the corridor toward the Gryffindor common room, he checked his watch. Eight AM.

Sixteen hours to go

As he turned a corner, he was stopped by the sight of Draco leaning casually up against the wall. Harry glared at his tormentor, and Draco smirked right back.

"Escaping, are we, Potter?"

"Only from you, Malfoy."

"Since we're going to be in close contact for the next..." he paused

"Sixteen hours," Harry prompted.

Draco flashed him a look of dark amusement. "Trust you to be counting, Potter. As I was saying, since we'll be in close contact for the next sixteen hours, perhaps we could stop insulting each other every second word?"

Harry stifled a snigger. "That was almost a pick-up line, Malfoy."

"Strong words for someone who was 'not a sodding pouf' only... eight hours ago," Draco said smugly. "You know, I always thought Potter was a rather ugly name."

"And I've always thought that Malfoy sounded like a breed of toad."

Draco obviously did not like this turn of conversation. Moving so quickly Harry could not react, he launched himself from the wall he was leaning on and slammed into Harry, his arm circling Harry's waist and pinning the two boys together. Harry stared at him, shocked but before he could even form the thought of retaliation, Draco pressed his mouth into Harry's. Harry clamped his mouth shut and determinedly ignored Draco's violating hands roving his body.

All the while, Draco watched Harry's reaction with shrewd eyes.

Though Harry had remained unresponsive, when Draco's hands began to roam underneath his shirt, he was shocked out of his stillness and began to struggle in earnest, stunned and frightened by how much stronger than him the pale boy had become.

Suddenly, he realised that Draco had gone utterly still, though their lips were still firmly attached. Relieved, he pushed Draco roughly away from him. Draco immediately started breathing fast and deeply in and out.

"What the Hell was that, Potter?" Draco demanded, before running off down the corridor, flashing Harry a smirk before he vanished.

Harry stared after him.

A quiet cough interrupted his thoughts and he swung around to see Hermione and Ron standing behind him, Hermione's restraining hand on Ron's shoulder.

"What the hell was that, Potter?" Ron echoed through clenched teeth.

Harry made several gestures and squeaking noises, which would have explained his point eloquently if he'd been talking to a mouse.

"Because it looked like you were kissing Draco Malfoy."

Harry spluttered. "Me kissing him?? He grabbed me and pinned me against the wall! I didn't have much choice!"

"That's not what it looked like, Harry. Is this your idea of revenge?"

"No, damn you. I have to do anything he says for twenty-four hours, remember!" Harry snapped.

"So he's making you kiss him?" Ron said bluntly.

"No, he's kissing me. And I will deal with it. Once the twenty-four hours are over, I will get him back," he snapped before adding quietly. "Somehow."

Harry fumed. "Why did he do a stupid thing like--eurgh--kissing me?" he asked, glaring at the wall of the room as if he expected it to answer.

Damn him

Now Hermione and Ron thought he was strange, if not downright queer. From their perspective it must have seemed like he was the instigator, but he wasn't! "Yet you weren't fighting it," he said quietly to himself.

Damn him

"Come on Potter, he's just screwing with your mind. Malfoy goes for everyone who offers, but he never cares about them."

Damn him

"But you do, don't you, foolish boy?" said a silky voice behind him.

Harry whirled around to face the one person he just didn't want to see.

"Malfoy."

Draco smiled. "Do you really hate my given name that much?"

"I hate everything about you."

Draco chewed thoughtfully on his lip. "I don't, you know."

"Don't what?"

"Go for anyone who offers."

"Uh huh."

"After all, look at you, you haven't offered..."

"And I don't intend to," Harry snapped firmly.

Draco continued, unfazed, "And I certainly turned down Millicent Bulstrode when she offered."

Draco indulged in a delicate shudder which Harry privately shared.

"Are you here for a reason, Malfoy? Because if you're not I'd prefer if you left me to Rail Against The Unfairness Of It All in peace, thank you," Harry snapped.

Draco examined his nails, "But this is such a nice room. It has a really pleasant atmosphere, you know?" Draco commented conversationally. "I'm really not feeling at all inclined to leave."

"Then I will," said Harry and made to storm out the door.

"Firmus!" Draco yelled, whipping out his wand. "Locomotor Mortis!"

The first spell caused the door to slam with considerable force. The second had the unfortunate effect of locking Harry's legs together.

"As I was saying," Draco continued calmly, "This room has a certain ambience. It makes me feel very relaxed."

"It's making me feel slightly immobile..." Harry muttered.

Draco applauded suddenly. "Very good, Harry! I do believe that was an attempt at humour! Excellent! Five points for Gryffindor!"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Harry announced primly.

Draco twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. "Now you see, people keep telling me that. I choose to believe that having any kind of wit is better than having no wit at all."

"That is just so you."

Draco sauntered over to Harry. "And that outfit, darling, is just so you," he drawled, running a slender finger down Harry's chest.

Harry struggled against the spell holding him in place.

"How amusing. The Boy Who Lived can fight off the Imperius curse, but he cannot break a simple Leg-locker curse." The finger that had been exploring Harry's chest strayed into the region of his mouth.

Big mistake

Harry chomped down hard on Draco's finger and the blonde boy hastily retrieved it.

"You know," he said spitefully, cradling his injured finger, "If I was known only as The Boy Who Lived, I think I'd kill myself!"

"If I were known as Lucius Malfoy's son, I know I'd kill myself!" Harry snapped back.

Draco's eyes turned a cold, flinty grey. "Foolish, Potter."

He stalked out of the room, leaving Harry still rendered immobile.

Twenty minutes or so later, just when Harry was considering hopping out of the room, the spell holding him was abruptly released. He didn't know if Draco had consciously removed it, but he was extremely glad it was gone.

The first thing he did was look at his watch. Fourteen hours and fifty minutes to go.

Which meant it was 9:10AM.

Which meant he was late for Potions.

He dashed out of the room and through the various twists and turns that ended in the potions classroom. He slammed through the door and looked for a place to sit. Hermione and Ron were sitting together. Hermione threw him an apologetic glance and gestured with her head at the only free seat in the room.

Inevitably, it was next to Draco.

Draco barely spared him a glance as he sat down. Snape, on the other hand, had noticed Harry entering and seemed extremely interested in him. Harry's heart dropped into his stomach as Snape glided over.

"Mr. Potter, so kind of you to join my class," said Snape.

"I try," Harry retorted before he could help himself.

Snape's eyes widened. "And so creatively dressed," he added with a smirk.

Raising his voice, he addressed the class with mocking tolerance.

"It seems Mr. Potter disdains our schedules and our uniforms. What next? Perhaps he'll decide to disdain our dormitories and live with the Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

The Slytherins and not a few of the Gryffindors snickered. Draco was conspicuously silent but when Harry looked at his profile, there was a wide, contemptuous smirk plastered all over it.

Bastard

Snape had returned to his desk at the front of the classroom. "Now, before Mr. Potter... graced us with his presence, I believe we were brewing hair removal potions, were we not? Please continue."

They worked in silence for a while. With great satisfaction, Harry finished his potion.

"Hey Harry," Draco murmured out of the side of his mouth. "D'you want to make mine for me?"

Harry snorted. "No!"

"Too bad." Draco pushed his cauldron over to Harry's side of the bench.

Harry muttered.

"Well, snap to it, Harry," Draco said with a haughty wave of his hand.

Harry fumed.

Angrily, he began carelessly piling the ingredients, not giving a damn if Draco's potion went awry.

In fact, Harry thought spitefully, I hope it makes his arm drop off!

It almost did. Once their potions were was finished, everyone was instructed to smear some on their arms and see if it worked. The one Harry had originally created worked brilliantly, but the one he had created for Draco...

Snape was attracted by Draco's panicked screech as the thin white hairs on his arms began growing and darkening at a rapid rate. Snape sprayed some liquid out of a small bottle onto the hairs and they immediately began reversing the transition.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you care to explain this?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know what happened, sir," Draco lied smoothly. "I measured everything out carefully. I only looked away for a moment..." he glanced at Harry.

Snape followed his gaze. "Well, well, well, Mr. Potter. We've resorted to sabotage now, have we? I'll have you know, I don't appreciate you destroying my best student's work."

He made a little gesture. "Switch potions."

Draco's smirk widened.

"What?" exclaimed Harry.

"You heard me. Mr. Malfoy, you shall be graded by Mr. Potter's potion, since that is almost the level of proficiency you could have achieved without his interference. And Mr. Potter, this," he gestured to the other cauldron, "shall be how I determine your mark."

Harry was rendered speechless at the unfairness of it all.

Draco leaned close to him. "Brilliant work, Harry. Meet me back in the Astronomy Tower as soon as lunch begins. Those green tights are giving me a headache."

Harry entertained a brief hope that Draco had tired of torturing him. Then reality reasserted itself and he clenched his teeth in nervous anticipation of his next trial.