Catwoman

***************

Catwoman

***************

August 1^st dawned bright and early on that gorgeous Saturday morning, and Draco Malfoy fluttered his long, silky eyelashes as the morning sun flitted in through the windows of the bedroom and over to the bed where he was sleeping.

Draco made a soft noise of protest and snuggled deeper into the covers. He was in no mood to wake up. He was extremely comfortable, and there was something warm and solid pressed up against his back that felt really nice.

Still, there was the matter of that loud noise filling the room. A sort of high pitching wailing noise. Draco thought for a moment. Must be my alarm clock, he mused, and pulled the pillow over his head to muffle the sound.

"House elf!" he said imperiously, not bothering to move the pillow or open his eyes. "Turn off that alarm immediately or I'll have you iron your fingers."

There, that should do it, he thought to himself. And then, a curious thing happened. The noise, instead of going away, actually got louder, and then even higher pitched.

What's more, Draco could now make out that his alarm clock was actually speaking to him, and while that wasn't uncommon in the wizarding world Draco knew that he had never owned a talking alarm clock.

How very bizarre.

Still, it had to be stopped. That racket was horrible.

"HOUSE ELF!!!" Draco yelled from under his pillow. "What part of IRON YOUR FINGERS do you not understand? Turn that BLOODY thing OFF!"

"IRON YOUR FINGERS??? Malfoy, you disgusting, inhuman, malicious, evil -

Okay, now this was definitely no good. What kind of alarm clock insulted a Malfoy? He'd have the blasted thing shattered to smithereens for this. And where was that stupid house elf?

Draco, now unfortunately fully awake, ripped the pillow off his head in disgust. "What the HELL is going on here?" he demanded. "How dare you insult me, you stupid clock! I'm Draco Malfoy, and -

Draco never finished his sentence, because having removed the pillow from his head, he suddenly was hit very, very hard by the realization that the noise wasn't coming from an alarm clock.

No, indeed.

"Draco Malfoy, you horrible little ferret, how could you abuse your house elves like that? They have rights too, you know, and how could you just -

"JUST BE IN BED WITH MY BEST FRIEND!!!"

Draco's errant alarm clock had turned out to be none other than Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. This was not good.

And it was getting worse. The nice, warm and solid thing that had been pressed up against his back was beginning to stir, and now it was sitting up and rubbing its eyes sleepily.

"Ron, Mione, what the hell are you yelling about?" the warm, solid Harry Potter was saying in an irritated tone of voice, giving his friends a dirty, albeit unfocused look. "It's got to be seven in the bloody morning, and I've got a pounding headache, and you're here yelling and -

And here Harry stopped to gaze utterly speechless at Draco who was staring utterly speechless back, as he had apparently just realized why his two best friends were yelling.

Well. Our two favorite boys decided to do some yelling of their own.

"MALFOY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED???" Harry howled, scampering over the very edge of the bed.

"ME??? You probably KIDNAPPED me and had your wicked way with me, you BARBARIAN!" Draco shrieked back, also moving as far to the opposite edge of the bed as he possible could.

"THE HELL I DID!!" Harry shouted. "I WOULDN'T TOUCH YOU WITH A TEN-FOOT POLE!!!"

"By the looks of things you certainly TRIED, but I wouldn't call it a TEN-FOOT POLE, Potter! More like a TWO-INCH TWIG!"

"Ugh, you are disgusting, Malfoy, there's no way we - " and here Harry was about to throw the covers off when he apparently realized that he was completely naked underneath the blankets.

"Bugger," he swore, quickly securely the covers in place. He looked over at Draco, who had sat up in the bed (keeping the covers tucked securely around his waist) so he could glare more menacingly at Harry.

"Appropriate word choice, Harry," Hermione said, obviously stifling a giggle.

"Shut up, Granger," Draco snarled. Hermione just smiled angelically.

"What's that on your stomach, Malfoy?" she asked, and three pairs of eyes immediately trained themselves to Draco's stomach.

Ron and Harry began to howl with laughter.

"Wait, what does that say?" Draco said, trying to read upside down. He squinted at the letters on his stomach. "To...my...favorite...ferret," and here his eyes narrowed, "a...word...of...POTTER YOU SON OF A - "

Draco snarled and lunged at Harry, who immediately dove under the covers.

"Malfoy, we're naked! NAKED, do you understand?! Don't come anywhere near me!"

"Well, by the looks of things it's a little too late to worry about that, Harry. It looks like Draco already ca - "

"DON'T SAY IT!!!" Three eighteen-year old male voices shouted at Hermione.

Draco had had enough. This was quickly turning out to be the worst morning of his life. "Get out!" He yelled at the three of them.

"It's MY room, YOU get out!" Harry yelled back.

"GET OUT POTTER! I'm getting dressed and leaving this HELL HOLE so unless you want to see my naked arse get the HELL out of this room!"

"Malfoy," Hermione began sweetly, "I think Harry already saw your naked -"

"OUT OUT OUT!!!"

With one last vicious glare at Draco, Harry grabbed the comforter like a toga and dashed out into the hall with Ron and Hermione.

*****************

Draco tried to dress as fast as he possibly could, but his progress was slightly impeded by the fact that his clothes were nowhere to be found. Draco finally located his boxers on top of the fireplace mantel and tracked down his pants in the cushions of an armchair, but he still couldn't find his shirt.

He did, however, find three empty cans of whipped cream, two large feathers and a pair of handcuffs. Apparently he and the Boy Wonder had had something of a wild night.

Finally, Draco found Harry's shirt hanging off the ceiling fan and, not wanting to waste one more moment, decided he was taking it.

Mmmm, thought Draco's brain as he slipped the fitted black shirt over his head. Nice shirt. Kind of soft. Smells like Harry.

Draco gave his brain a mental smack. "I don't care if it smells like Potter! I just want to get out of here!"

But it smells so good, like his cologne, all yummy and --

Draco briefly wondered if it was considered suicide if you killed your own sub-conscious.

Deciding he didn't have time to worry about things like how wearing Potter's shirt reminded him of waking up in Potter's arms, he stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

****************

He had almost reached the front door when he heard a voice.

"Draco? Is that you? Are you going back to the Manor already?"

Draco turned slowly, and to his absolute horror there was his dad - hair completely messed up, fancy dress robe fastened up wrong and holding hands with one happy-looking Severus Snape.

"Daddy?" Draco whimpered. "Please tell me you and Professor Snape didn't do what it looks like you did."

"Well, if what it looks like is that Professor Snape and I had a wild, hot passionate night making sweet, sweet - "

Draco turned to bolt out the door.

" -chocolate chip cookies, then I guess we did."

Draco blinked and turned around as his world slowly built itself back up around him. Lucius was holding out a plate of delicious-looking cookies.

"Want one?" Lucius asked, and smiling weakly, Draco took a cookie. He had just bitten into it when his dad smiled.

"Oh, and we had sex."

Draco spit out his mouthful of cookie, dropped the rest on the floor and high-tailed it out the door.

**********************

Draco Apparated back to Malfoy Manor, where he stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed on his bed. So far this morning was turning out to be the worst morning of his life, and that included the morning where Lucius had sat Draco down to have "the talk" about sex and ended up admitting that Draco was the result not of careful pureblood planning but of him and Narcissa getting absolutely plastered at a Slytherin party in their Seventh year.

He took a very long, very hot shower, trying to wash all traces of Potter off his body. He scrubbed at his stomach, trying to remove the autograph. That was done easily enough. The real problem was cleaning out his dirty mind. While on the surface he was pretending to be absolutely disgusted by what had passed between him and Potter the night before, he was having a hard time convincing the rest of him that sleeping with Potter was really all that bad.

Half-formed memories floated through his mind, pictures of him and Harry laughing together the night before. He vaguely remembered asking Harry for his autograph, and how good it had felt to have Harry leaning over him. After that, he remembered being on the couch, where Harry was practically sitting in his lap.

"Did I really tell him that I thought he was Batman?" Draco pondered. He thought he remembered that conversation, and then the ensuing kiss. He also remembered getting Potter pinned under him on the couch to be tickled, and smirked to himself. At least he'd won that battle.

A very clear picture rose up in his brain of Potter, trapped underneath him on the couch, his muscles hard and defined as he squirmed while Draco tickled him, those unnaturally green eyes glowing up at him.

Mmmm, Potter, his mind drooled, ala Homer Simpson.

Oh no. No freaking way. He was not going to stand here in the shower and think about how hot Potter was. Draco knew what he had to do. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the hot water tap and turned it off completely.

"YYYYEEEOOOOWWW!"

****************

When Draco emerged, shivering, from his cold shower, he wandered into his room to get dressed. Throwing on his favorite jeans (one muggle thing that he was secretly fond of), he went to his closet to pick out a shirt.

And then glanced longingly at the soft black t-shirt that smelled like Harry on his bed.

"No, Draco," he scolded himself. "You are not going to put on Potter's smelly old shirt like some sodding little school girl."

But it smells so GOOOOODD, his inner monologue whined.

"No. You're not wearing Potter's shirt, even if it does smell good. Be strong, Draco, be strong. You can do it. Resist the power of the shirt...resist...re - oh, sod it all," he finally snapped. He walked over to the bed and pulled on Harry's shirt.

He took a deep breath in. It really did smell nice, and besides no one would know if he wore it for just a little while. Or wore it all day, even. Or slept in it every night. Or -

Draco decided it was time to get outside and clear his head.

******************

He Apparated over to Diagon Alley, where he walked up and down the familiar avenue, looking in the shop windows. He kicked half heartedly at a rock on the ground as he walked, slouched over, hands in his pockets, purposefully ignoring all his Malfoy training to stand up straight and not slouch and not put his pretty manicured hands in his pockets where no one could see them. He sighed.

His traitorous mind, instead of coming up with good hexes to use on little kids when their parents weren't looking, seemed instead hell bent on remembering just how good it had felt to wake up next to Potter this morning, how warm and comfortable and safe and -

Realizing that these were more thoughts he really didn't want to be having, he decided to head over to The Leaky Cauldron to try to distract himself.

He pulled open the squeaky old door and walked into the dark pub, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the light. It was pretty crowded, but Draco managed to secure a booth in the back where he sat and stared into space, sipping a butterbeer and trying his hardest to forget the night before.

Of course, it was just his luck, since this was, obviously, the worst day ever, that at that moment he heard a voice that was all too familiar.

"Look Ron, Hermione, there's a booth there in the back that's empty, let's sit there."

Draco hunched down in his seat as he heard Harry, Ron and Hermione file into the booth right behind him. He hadn't seen them, so he assumed they hadn't seen him either. He didn't have to see them to know they were there, though; their voices were as familiar to him as his own.

Draco sighed and was about to leave and go sulk somewhere where Potter wasn't when he had changed his mind. After all, it's not every day you get the opportunity to eavesdrop unnoticed on the Boy Who Lived and his little sidekicks. Draco straightened up slightly in his seat and trained his ear to the booth behind him.

The three of them were chatting idly about Quidditch, and Draco was beginning to think this conversation would be a boring waste of his time when things suddenly got interesting.

"Okay, Harry, enough stalling," Hermione's voice said, a little sharply. "It's time to spill. Explain to me just how exactly you ended up sleeping with Draco Malfoy last night."

"Well," Harry's voice responded, and Draco could actually hear Harry blushing, "I don't exactly know. We were just talking, and drinking, and he just...looked really good, alright?"

Damn straight I did, thought Draco, pleased. He heard some scoffing noises from Harry's friends but Harry stood his ground.

"He did, he looked amazing," Harry said defensively. "And after he'd had God-knows-how-many Mai Tais he was acting kind of nice and...well...cute."

Draco heard a choking sound that was probably Ron as he contemplated Harry's words. Cute? Well, that would never do. Draco was many things, but not cute. He was gorgeous, yes. Manly, yes. Virile, yes, not to mention rugged, sexy, handsome, good-looking, clever, stunning, witty -

Oh, wait, Harry was talking again.

"He was cute," Harry said insistently. "Downright adorable, really, what with asking for my autograph and everything. He was being really sweet. Then later I had to save the poor baby when he was about to be snogged by your brother, Ron."

Poor baby? POOR BABY??? Draco thought furiously. Who the hell does Potter think I am? A helpless HUFFLEPUFF???

"Poor baby? POOR BABY???" Ron said, sounding incredulous. "Who the hell do you think Malfoy is? Some kind of helpless HUFFLEPUFF?"

Okay, that was kind of freaky, Draco thought to himself, taking a sip of butterbeer and waiting to hear what Potter was going to say in response.

"Well, okay, maybe 'poor baby' is a bit of a stretch," Harry's voice admitted, a little sheepishly. "But, honestly, Percy had him trapped against the wall and I had to tell him off so he'd let Draco go!"

"Draco?" Hermione sounded like she was raising her eyebrow. "What happened to Malfoy? When did he become Draco?"

Ten points to Gryffindor for that excellent question, Draco thought, playing with the cap of his butterbeer bottle. He was trying to ignore the fact that hearing his first name from Harry's lips made him feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside.

"Well, I had assumed that after you slept with someone you had the right to call them by their first name. My mistake." Harry's voice was slightly snippy.

"Hey Harry, you know what? Maybe you didn't sleep with him after all." Ron sounded excited at the idea. "I mean, you definitely slept with him but maybe you didn't sleep with him sleep with him, you know? Maybe you only slept with him. Know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, Ron, amazingly I do know what you're saying," Harry's voice answered. "But I'm pretty sure I slept with him slept with him. More than once."

"Oh." Ron sounded disappointed. "What makes you so sure?"

"I found a blindfold, silk scarves, a bowl of mostly eaten strawberries and a collar when I was looking for my clothes this morning." Harry's voice explained. "You know, I finally found my pants under the bed and my boxers tangled in the curtains on the window, but I couldn't find my shirt anywhere."

Draco looked around a bit shiftily and hunched down slightly further in his seat.

"Sounds like a wild night," Hermione said thoughtfully. "But Harry, you never finished explaining how you and Malfoy ended up sleeping together. What happened after you rescued the 'poor baby' from Percy?"

Ha bloody ha, Granger, Draco thought, a bit sulkily.

"Ha bloody ha, Hermione," Harry's voice said, a bit sulkily.

Okay, that really needs to stop, Draco thought, annoyed.

"Sorry Harry." Hermione didn't sound sorry at all. If anything, she sounded like she was trying not to laugh. "But really, what happened next?"

"Well, we sat down on the couch together and talked a bit, drank some more. He said he knew a really big secret about me."

"Which was?" Hermione asked.

"Well..." Harry paused for a second, and then he said in a soft voice that Draco had to strain to hear: "He said I was Batman." Harry's voice sounded both fond and pleased. Draco heard Hermione sigh knowingly.

"That did it, didn't it? He said you were Batman, and you were completely flattered and lost your mind. Boys." Hermione sounded half-amused, half-exasperated.

"Who's Batman?" Wealey seemed, surprise surprise, confused.

"He's a Muggle superhero," Hermione explained. "So, I take it he was Robin?"

"Nope," Harry said, and Draco could have sworn he heard a smile in his voice. "We decided that Ron here was Robin, Voldemort was the Joker, and you were Batgirl, Herm."

"Oh?" Hermione sounded a bit flattered. "Well, I like that. I could be Batgirl. That actually fits quite well."

"It does, doesn't it?" Harry said happily.

"Still confused here, mates."

"Relax, Ron, I'll show you the comic later. So then who was Malfoy?"

"Well, see, that was the best part," Harry's voice said eagerly. "He was Catwoman."

"Catwoman? Who the bloody hell is -

"Catwoman is one of Batman's enemies, Ron. She's really pretty and wears a leather bodysuit and mask and has a whip," Harry's voice explained.

"Oh," said Weasley. He seemed impressed. "She sounds hot."

"She is," Harry replied. "So, we figured that he was Catwoman because Batman and Catwoman are enemies, and because he also looks good in leather. See?"

"Wow, he is Catwoman," Hermione said in awe. "And since Batman and Catwoman are also lovers..."

"Exactly. So, you know, naturally we had to kiss, and then...well, one thing just led to another."

"Are Robin and Batgirl lovers too?" Ron asked eagerly. Harry and Hermione ignored him.

"So that's how it happened? Harry, the fangirls and fanboys have been trying to get in your pants for years. How happy would they be to know that all it takes is a few well placed comments about Muggle superheroes and you go to pieces?"

"Yeah," Harry's voice answered Hermione. "I know, I'm pathetic. And you know what the worst part is?"

"What?"

"You can't make fun, alright?"

"I won't make fun. Go on, Harry."

"The worst part is I can't stop thinking about him."

Draco smiled before he could stop himself.

"Ugh, Harry!" Hermione's voice rang out. Draco bristled. He wasn't that bad! Harry was defending him again though.

"No, really, Herm. I can't stop thinking about last night, or about our conversation, or about him. In fact, all I've been able to think about all day is how good Draco really would be as Catwoman, and how good he really would look in leather."

Really? I didn't see that coming, thought Draco, who suddenly didn't feel nearly as sulky.

"Really? I didn't see that coming," Hermione said thoughtfully.

What the hell is going on today? Draco thought, but he wasn't actually concerned anymore. Instead he was thinking at light speed. Harry thought he was cute, and Harry had been thinking about him all day. Draco thought Harry was cute, and he had been thinking about Harry all day.

Draco realized that he had a choice. He could go home tonight and sit alone sulking in denial about his feelings for Harry while wearing Potter's shirt, or he could spend tonight shagging the very hot Boy Who Lived and steal more of his yummy smelling shirts tomorrow.

Really, it wasn't a very hard decision.

**************************

Draco waited until the Golden Trio had left the pub, and then leaving a couple coins on the table made his exit as well. He had formulated a plan in his mind, thanks to Potter's little confession. After all, why simply show up and shag Potter when he could seduce him in style?

Draco knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do. He inwardly congratulated himself on such a brilliant plan as he flung open the door to his one of his favorite shops on Diagon Alley - Leonardo's Leather Luxuries.

"Raphael! Tony! I need your help!" Draco shouted , and two young, hot, and completely leather-clad Italian men appeared out of thin air.

"Ah, Master Draco! How good to see you again!" said Raphael, who was very tall and had long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

"What can we do for you, sir?" Tony added. He was a bit shorter but very built, with short, spiky dark hair.

"I need to wear leather, and I need to look unbelievably sexy," Draco said, and the two men nodded in understanding, like they heard that particular phrase every single day.

"With your looks, that will be easy," Tony said with a smile and directed Draco up on a platform while Raphael grabbed a tape measure.

"Hot date tonight?" Raphael asked, as he began to measure the blonde. Draco just smiled.

"Something like that," he said enigmatically, thinking that Potter was going to get the surprise of his life when Draco showed up at his house tonight.

A little while later, Draco found himself the proud owner of a pair of genuine Italian leather pants, custom-fit with shrinking charms, and a sleek leather jacket that fit like a glove but felt like butter.

He'd decided to keep Potter's shirt on. He really couldn't bear to take it off and Tony and Raphael had both agreed that the tight black shirt looked good with the leather pants.

After Apparating back to the Manor, he quickly fixed his hair with just a little gel into touchable slightly disheveled spikes. Slipping on the pants, which hid absolutely nothing from anyone and then throwing on his jacket over that, he looked at his reflection.

The mirror let out a little scream.

"OMG SQUUEEEE!!!" a high-pitched girly voice said from the mirror. "You look SOOOOO hot!!!"

"Thanks," said Draco, checking out his reflection.

"OMG, I think I'm just going to die," she continued. "Can you hold on just a second?" The voice disappeared, and after a moment, Draco heard the mirror's voice again.

"Okay, I'm back and I brought all the voices from the other mirrors in the Manor. See, I told you guys you just had to see him."

"Oh wow, he really does look quite lovely," said a slightly more dignified woman's voice which Draco recognized from his mother's mirror.

"Yeah, if I weren't just a voice in a mirror I'd hop outta here and snog the daylights out of him." Draco knew that voice too, another female voice from one of the guest suites.

"Honey, can I just say ME-OW?" said a male voice that Draco recognized as the voice of the mirror in his dad's closet. "You look good enough to eat."

Draco decided that now wasn't the moment to ponder the irony of his dad having a gay mirror installed in his closet. After all, he had a hot date.

*********************

At just a few minutes past 7pm, Draco Apparated to the general vicinity of Potter's new apartment in London. Taking a deep breath, he approached the building with nervous butterflies in his stomach. According to his notes from his days as a spy with the Order of the Phoenix, Potter lived on the second floor, apartment 8B.

He slowly climbed the stairs, not knowing exactly how Potter was going to react to having a leather covered Draco on his doorstep, but figuring that if the Gryffindor was being truthful to Granger at The Leaky Cauldron, then chances were he might not be adverse to the idea. He reached apartment 8B, and stood in front of the door, gathering his courage.

Now, it's true that a Slytherin gathering their courage is not impressive the way a Gryffindor gathering their courage is, but Draco did his best.

Leaning against the door frame and folding his arms in what he hoped was a casual and sexy pose, Draco knocked on the door and held his breath.

"Coming!" he heard Potter's voice call out behind the door. A moment later, the door flew open and there was Harry Potter.

"MALFOY?" he squeaked, staggering backwards, arms flailing, eyes growing huge behind his famous glasses. He took two more gigantic steps backwards into his apartment before he stumbled right into the coffee table and went crashing to the floor.

Encouraged by this reaction, Draco stepped smoothly into Harry's apartment.

"Hi Potter."

"Malfoy...what...how...you...leather..." Harry sputtered from his spot on the floor, apparently reduced to being unable to form a coherent sentence.

Draco gently closed the door behind him and lifted an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"Something wrong?"

Harry shook his head "no" so violently that his glasses looked like they were going to fly off.

"Good," Draco said silkily. "Ready to go, then?"

"Go?" Harry squeaked. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Draco since he opened the door. "Go where?"

"Dinner," Draco drawled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're taking me out to dinner?" Harry asked, as if he couldn't believe his luck. Draco shook his head.

"No, you're taking me out to dinner."

"I am?" Harry appeared stunned. Draco sighed. Was it really so hard to grasp? Honestly.

"Yes, you are. And I don't like to be kept waiting, so get off your arse and let's go."

Harry blinked several times, closed his eyes, shook his head slightly, and then opened his eyes and looked back at Draco. "This can't be real," he muttered. "I must be dreaming. Draco is not really standing in my living room covered in leather from head to toe."

Draco sighed. He took a few steps forward so he was right next to Harry and then leaned down and pinched Harry's arm - hard.

"OW!" Harry snapped, yanking his arm away. "What'd you do that for?"

"So you'd know you weren't dreaming, you prat! Now are you taking me out to dinner or do I have to find some other Boy Who Lived to take me out?"

That did it.

"No, no, don't go find anyone else. I'm taking you," Harry said quickly, scrambling up off the floor. Draco waited patiently for him to grab his keys and wallet before noticing something a little odd.

"Hey Potter?"

"Yeah?" said Harry, throwing on a light jacket.

"What's all that stuff on the coffee table?"

"What? Oh..." Harry had turned to look at the small bottle of massage oil, large bottle of chocolate syrup, assorted leather items of unidentified use and the cowboy hat sitting on the table. "Fred and George brought those back to me a little bit ago. Said I left them in my bedroom. I guess we...uh...had a rather wild night."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence as both boys licked their lips at the memory, and then Harry cleared his throat.

"Shall we go, then?"

Draco nodded, and they headed out into the evening.

*****************

"So where exactly am I taking you for dinner?" Harry asked, as he and Draco walked down the London sidewalk together in the fading glow of the summer sun.

"This posh little Italian place that's up ahead just a couple blocks," Draco replied, pointing with one hand. "It's very romantic."

"Let me guess," Harry responded dryly. "It's also very expensive."

"Naturally," Draco said with a smirk. "After all, I'm a Malfoy and I'm used to the finer things in life. Besides, you want to impress me, don't you? Then maybe I'll put out."

Harry tripped over the absolutely flat sidewalk and had to grab onto Draco to keep from falling.

"Really, Potter," Draco chided. "You should work on your coordination."

Harry was too busy feeling up the nice, buttery leather of Draco's jacket to care what he was saying.

"This is really nice," he said in awe.

"The jacket or my arm?" Draco asked nonchalantly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"The jacket, you vain prat," he said, taking his hand off of Draco's arm, looking very reluctant as he did so. "So what's with the leather get-up anyway? Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily.

"Well, as I recall last night we decided I was Catwoman, so I decided I better wear leather on our date," Draco explained. Then he smirked. "But don't worry Potter, I'm not planning to use a whip."

Harry smirked back, and they had almost reached the door of the restaurant when Draco added:

"Unless you're really naughty."

Harry promptly tripped over his own feet and went crashing through the door of the restaurant into the waiting crowd.

*****************************

Despite the long line and the 45 minute wait for everyone else, Draco was immediately recognized and he and Harry were shown right away to one of the best tables in the house, a small round table set for two by the fountain outside in the courtyard garden.

Harry looked around, impressed. Twinkling white Christmas lights adorned the many trees that towered over the courtyard, and plants and flowers of all kinds grew in every spare crack in the stones of the floor and walls. A small stage graced the back of the courtyard, where a live jazz quartet could be heard playing their rendition of Dave Brubeck's Take Five.

"I have great taste," he commented, as he and Draco took their seats and placed their drink orders with the waiter. "Although, I must say, I'm surprised I took you of all people to a muggle restaurant."

Draco shrugged. "You didn't want the wizarding press to swoop in and photograph you and ruin our date."

"How very considerate of me," Harry said, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't know I was so thoughtful."

Draco's cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the compliment, a reaction that he blamed entirely on the wine he would eventually be drinking.

********************

Dinner was absolutely lovely. Draco and Harry chatted and flirted over their excellent food, their excellent wine, and their most excellent desserts, and all too soon for Draco's taste he and Harry were finished and walking back down the streets of London toward Harry's apartment building.

"That was fun," Harry said, as they turned the corner to the street where Harry's apartment was located.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Is that the best you can do, Potter? You spent an evening with one of the wizarding world's most eligible bachelors, and all you can say is 'that was fun'?"

Harry just grinned. "Yup," he said. "Dinner was really good, too."

"You should know," Draco said, as they reached the steps of Harry's building. "You ate all of yours and half of mine."

Harry snorted. "Just because you eat like a girl..."

"Hey!" Draco said, jostling Harry with his shoulder. "I resent that! Just because I don't shovel massive quantities of food down my throat like some kind of medieval heathen doesn't mean I eat like a girl. It just means I'm refined."

"Yeah, okay. If that's what you need to tell yourself."

"You better watch your mouth, Potter," Draco said haughtily. "Or I just may have to use that whip after all."

"Oooh, I'm just so scared," Harry said dramatically as they climbed the steps of Harry's building. He raised an eyebrow. "I bet you hit like a girl too."

"That's not much of an insult, Potter. Some girls hit real hard," Draco pointed out. "Like Granger. Nasty right hook, that one."

"Good point," Harry conceded, as they walked down the hall of the second floor and stopped in front of Apartment 8B.

There was a very pregnant pause as the moment for the goodnight kiss had arrived. Unsurprisingly, Harry began fumbling with his keys and suddenly seemed nervous.

"Well, um," he said shyly, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too," Draco responded, wondering how long it was going to take Harry to kiss him goodnight.

"I...um...I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me again," Harry said, looking down at the floor. "I have tickets to a Magpies - Falcons game next weekend, if you wanted to...uh...you know...come with me..."

"Sounds lovely," Draco said, eyeing Harry's mouth as the brunette chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He really, really wanted that goodnight kiss.

"Oh, it does?" Harry seemed to perk up slightly. "Well, alright then, I'll owl you about that." Then he seemed to get a little nervous again. "Well, I guess, um, goodnight then..."

Draco sighed. Obviously this was going to be up to him. "Potter."

"What?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"

Harry seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he licked his lips. "Of...of course."

Draco's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, and then he felt Harry lean in and press his lips very gently to Draco's in a very soft kiss.

"Goodnight," Harry said softly, and turned to open his apartment door. Draco's eyes shot back open.

"Again, Potter," he ordered. That one little peck wasn't nearly enough.

Harry obligingly turned from opening the door and gave Draco another soft, brief peck on the lips, not at all what Draco had in mind.

"You're not doing it right," the blonde whined, tired of waiting. "There's supposed to be closed eyes, and lots of tongue and it's supposed to last a lot longer and - oh fuck it, I'll do it."

And with that he grabbed Harry behind the head with one hand and crashed their lips together. Apparently that was enough to banish Harry's self-consciousness and snap him into action. In an instant, Harry's hands found their way around Draco's waist over his leather jacket, pulling him tightly into an embrace. Draco's hand stayed embedded in Harry's hair while his other hand came up to cup Harry's face. Both boys moaned softly as their tongues met and their minds suddenly became flooded with memories of just how good everything had really been last night.

Harry turned his body so that Draco was pressed up against the door of the apartment, still kissing him fiercely. Draco's hand left Harry's face and began to feel around until it came in contact with the doorknob of Apartment 8B and turned it.

The door swung open, and Harry and Draco fell backwards into Harry's apartment, tumbling to the floor in a heap on top of each other. Harry pulled back just enough to raise a questioning eyebrow at Draco, who shrugged.

"You decided you were inviting me in for a nightcap," he explained, kicking the door shut with his one free leg.

"Ah," Harry said. "Of course I did." He dove back down for more kissing, lips locked to Draco's as he snaked his hands into Draco's leather coat and slid the soft leather off of Draco's shoulders. Draco eagerly twisted so that Harry could move the coat off his arms, only to have Harry pull back and look at Draco, puzzled.

"Draco?"

Draco shivered at hearing his first name fall from those pink candy lips and wondering why on earth Harry had paused.

"What?" he said, as his arms reached up to pull Harry back down to him.

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

Oops.

Knowing he was caught, he looked up nervously at Harry. "Um...yes?" he said, hoping Harry wasn't mad.

"So that's why I couldn't find it," Harry said, resting a hand on Draco's chest and then sliding it down to his stomach. "I think it looks better on you."

"Well of course it does," Draco said imperiously, squirming slightly as Harry's hand came to rest on his highly ticklish stomach, a weakness that he really didn't want Harry to know about.

"I found your shirt, you know," Harry said, idly tracing a small circle over Draco's abs with his hand.

"Oh?" Draco asked, sucking in his breath. Just stay still, don't let him know that tickles... "Where was it?"

"Stuffed between the mattress and the headboard," Harry explained, lightly drawing another circle on the flat stomach beneath him. "So why'd you take mine instead?"

"N-no reason," Draco squeaked. Stay still, stay still...

"Oh come on," Harry said, now tracing a figure 8 around Draco's bellybutton. "I'm sure you had a reason. What was it?"

"N-no...none...I...Potter, stop it that tickles!" Draco finally burst out, grabbing Harry's roaming hand with his own.

Wrong thing to say. Harry suddenly got a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Oh, that tickles, does it?" he said, much too innocently, and then next thing Draco found himself with Harry completely on top of him, straddling his ribs and pinning his arms down with his legs.

"Now, Draco, let's try again," Harry said, his hands coming to rest lightly against Draco's ribs. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Sod off," Draco snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that's a wrong answer," Harry said smoothly, and the next thing Draco knew he was being tickled mercilessly.

Draco immediately starting thrashing and wriggling about under Harry, but Harry had him pinned tight and he wasn't going anywhere.

"Potter, stop! I demand that you STOP!" Draco panted between laughs. "Potter! Oh come on! Haaarrry!"

"Not until you tell me why you're wearing my shirt," Harry admonished as his fingers continued to their pitiless journey across Draco's ribs.

"No! No, I won't...I won't...I...ALRIGHT!" Draco finally caved. "I'll tell you if you stop."

True to his word, Harry stopped and leaned back expectantly. Draco glared up at him, but spoke anyway.

"I'm wearing it because I couldn't find my own shirt this morning," he said, half-truthfully.

"Doesn't explain why you're still wearing it," Harry pointed out.

"Sure it does," Draco said in a very bratty voice.

Harry warningly rested his fingers against Draco's ribs again. Draco squeaked.

"No! No more tickling!" he pleaded. "I'll tell you, I promise." He took a deep breath. "I'm still wearing your shirt because...itsmellsniceanditkindofremindedmeofyou."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry - I didn't quite catch that."

Draco closed his eyes in embarrassment. "Becauseitsmellsnicenaditkindofremindedmeofyou."

"Draco..."

"Because it smells nice and it kind of reminded me of you!" Draco finally snapped. "There! Are you happy?"

Harry broke out into a huge smile. "Are you serious? That has got to be the cutest thing I've ever heard." He leaned down and began to nuzzle Draco in an Eskimo kiss.

"Don't call me cute, you uncultured Sasquatch," Draco snarled, trying to pull away. Harry paid him no attention.

"Aw, look at you, wearing my shirt because it reminded you of me," Harry cooed, planting a couple kisses on Draco's disgruntled face. "You are just adorable."

"Potter," Draco growled.

"I don't think we can call you Catwoman anymore, Draco," Harry said, now making Draco suffer through the horrible indignity of having his perfect blonde hair ruffled.

"And why not?" Draco said, seething as Harry destroyed his coiffure.

"'Cause you're not a really fierce cat, you're just a cuddly little kitten."

And as Draco's mouth fell open in absolute and utter outrage, Harry kissed his nose and then stood up.

"Come on, let's move into the bedroom," the brunette said, reaching down and pulling Draco to his feet. "I want to snuggle you on my bed."

Harry disappeared down the hall of his apartment. Draco stood for a moment in total disbelief.

"A kitten?" he said to himself. "A kitten?" His eyes narrowed and a wicked smile crossed his face. "Are you ever in trouble now, Potter."

And with a few choice words and a swish of his wand, a perfect replica of Catwoman's whip appeared on the coffee table.

"Draco?" Harry's voice called from down the hall. "Are you coming, cutie?"

"Yes, Harry!" Draco called back, picking up the whip. He gave it one experimental crack and then smirked.

A kitten, indeed.

Prepare to face the wrath of Catwoman.

Finite!

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