What to Do With Unwanted Love Letters

Something was quacking behind Harry Potter's head. And yet, somehow, this didn't seem odd to him. In fact, he kept on doing his Astronomy homework until the quacking thing squawked. A long, lithe form came around from behind him and plopped itself down in the chair opposite him. Harry smiled slightly over his book as Draco leaned forward, holding a crumpled paper duck between his middle and index fingers. "What's this, Potter?' he asked, pulling at the wings until it came open.

Resting the book against his chin, Harry shrugged. "What's it say?"

Smirking, Draco put his feet up on the table and ran his fingers through his hair, unfolding the note with a flourish. "Dear Harry," he pointed absentmindedly at Harry. "I know you don't know me, but I know you. I've loved you ever since I met you, and -" Draco sighed and scanned through the rest of the note. "Sincerely, Adriana Stone." Draco's eyebrows furrowed as Harry put his hands up in confusion. "Have you ever met this girl?"

Harry shook his head. When Draco pushed a quill and parchment towards him, he laughed. "I can't write back. I don't know what to say."

Draco grinned and pulled the parchment towards himself. He snickered and started reading his creation out loud. "Dear Adriana or whatever your name is, I don't know you. You may, for all I know, be a Death Eater, or, worse, a Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuffs are very nice," Harry pointed out, pouting.

"Therefore, I want you to know that there is absolutely no way that I would ever consider ever talking to you ever. Ever. Please go jump off the top of the astronomy tower where I will not be meeting you. Sincerely, and with no love, Mr. Harold James Potter."

Harry grimaced at him. "My name's not really Harold."

"I know," Draco said, rolling his eyes to tell Harry that he was, in fact, the most idiotic being to ever walk the earth. "But it sounds so damn dignified."

Harry went back to reading, muttering "dignified" under his breath a few times. That lasted a couple of seconds before he once again became suspicious of Draco's activity. He was halfway down in his seat. Apparently trying to kick something under the table. "What are you doing?" Harry asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing," Draco answered quickly, straightening up. He was stifling giggles.

"What?" Harry asked determinedly. He looked around him, and saw Draco pulling a paper dragon up from under the table. "What's that?"

"Your response," Draco answered simply. He was about to fly it over to the group of giggling girls that could very obviously be heard on the other side of the library, when Harry dove across the table and grabbed his hand.

"No! You can't send that! The poor girl probably will kill herself, and then it'll all be my fault! Your fault. My fault. I don't know, but she'll be dead and it won't be good." He could tell by the look on Draco's face that he didn't intend to send it to her at all, but he did fully intend to keep Harry thinking he did. It was okay, Harry didn't mind humoring him.

Draco ripped his hand out of Harry's, and pulled it back farther behind him. "Get it now, Potter," he teased.

Harry dove forward again, but instead of catching the note, Draco caught his lips instead. Harry melted just a little every time Draco did this; he was always tricking him into kisses. It was part of his charm. He let himself slide off the table and into Draco's lap, where the pretty blonde tangled his arms around Harry's neck. Harry shifted so he could put his legs around Draco's waist, knowing it would make him have to stop and think for a second.

Sure enough, Draco pulled away for a second, and Harry took his chance to scold him. "You know, this isn't very secret if you're snogging me in high-traffic, well-lighted areas. Then, they never said you had to be smart to be a Slytherin."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. "That's rich, a Gryffindor calling a Slytherin dumb."

"Mm-mm," Harry mumbled, pressing his lips against Draco's forehead, before getting up to reclaim his seat at the other side of the table. "We both know you're the genius in this relationship."

Draco pouted, holding his hand out across the table. Harry took it, sighing. For a second, they both just stared at each other. After all, teenagers so caught up in their first love have a tendency to do such things. Then, suddenly, Draco looked out the window. "Quidditch practice," he said quietly, and got up to leave. Harry, still holding his hand, pulled him in for a goodbye kiss, so Draco sat down on the table. He paid close attention to the softness of Draco's lips, and the way he hummed slightly, like he was prone to do when he was caught in this kind of moment. When Draco finally broke away, he pulled Harry's parchment and quill towards him. "Write back to that girl. I suggest you open with something like "I'm very sorry, my darling, but your one and only true love is a flaming homosexual. He is currently, and will forever be, in love with his apparent rival, one Draco Malfoy. Many regrets, Harry."

"You seem to be in a better mood now," Harry noted.

"You know what would put me in a better mood?"

"Nothing we could do in the library," Harry replied, smirking.

Draco grinned, apparently happy that Harry knew what he was thinking. But then, he thought, he hadn't exactly been that subtle. "Come get me tonight. With the cloak."

"Where will we go?"

Draco shrugged. He jumped as he looked up over Harry's shoulder. "And that'll teach you to mess with me, Potter!" He was wearing his most menacing snarl, the one that made Harry's knees weak (in a dominatrix kind of way.)

Harry smiled knowingly. "Stay away from me, Malfoy. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

It was then that Crabbe and Goyle came around into view. One mumbled something that sounded like a question. Draco obviously understood it perfectly. "What do you think I'm doing, thickheads?"

To anyone else, the scene would have been blaringly obvious. Draco Malfoy sitting on the table in front of Harry Potter, both of whom had messy hair, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks, not to mention the fact that Harry had a bite mark next to his mouth. However, to Crabbe and Goyle, it, of course, could mean nothing other than that their leader had beaten the crap out of Harry. Or just dried him with an extremely large blow dryer. And bitten him. They preferred not to think about the more confusing options.

"See you around, Potter," Draco snarled, getting up to leave.

"I'll get you sometime," Harry growled back. "Sometime when you least expect it."

"Oh yeah?" Draco's eyes were interested, but his tone was still harsh.

"Yeah." Harry's eyebrows twitched as he answered, "I'm gonna do you so bad you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Draco looked like he was going to pass out for a second, then turned away, huffing. He let his cronies get a little ahead of him, then walked back to Harry for a final peck. "Eleven?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, eleven."