Ambrosia Salad

Purpose

BOOM!

"Ha ha! Take that, Harry!"

Harry coughed and waved at the puff of smoke that used to be his pile of Exploding Snap cards. Across the table, Ron was grinning like a sadist in a knife shop and wiggling around violently in his seat. Harry supposed he was engaged in some sort of victory dance- but it was hard to tell.

When Ron pulled a rather intricate-looking move (didn't that hurt?), Harry laughed and shook his head, which caused a cloud of card dust to escape from the confines of his jet-black hair and burst around his face. Harry sputtered and reached up to rub his sandy eyes from underneath a pair of black-rimmed glasses, while Ron stopped gyrating long enough to laugh at Harry's now powdery face and shirt. Once his eyes were clear of any remaining card particles, Harry carefully straightened his lenses and glared at Ron, making a show of leisurely patting down his dark blue shirt. At one of his friend's louder snickers, Harry stopped with his hand mid-pat on his sleeve and raised his eyes mischievously to Ron's, whose face went slack and smile faded. "No way, Harry! Don't you da-" Before he could finish, Harry thrust his upper body across the table and stuck his hair directly in Ron's face, shaking his dusty head and covering his friend in a thin layer of paper and cardboard. Ron flailed and almost toppled backwards out of his chair, but he eventually found Harry's head and pushed it harshly away from him, sending Harry to land with a thump back in his seat.

"That was a dirty trick," Ron scowled at Harry as he held out his arms to survey the damage inflicted by his hyper-active best friend.

"Dirty for you, yeah," Harry smirked, "but bloody hilarious for me." Harry snickered as Ron tried in vain to rid himself of the gray ash covering his shirt and face.

Ron eventually gave up on trying to wipe off his shirt, which seemed to simply spread the dust around instead of removing it, and sighed. "This stuff is never coming off," he said, and then looked up and grinned arrogantly at Harry, "I guess I'll just have to beat you again, then. At least that way we'll match at dinner, and we can tell people it's the latest fashion in Japan or something. We'll call it 'New Wave Ash'." Ron smiled and leaned in, "Ten sickles says Parkinson comes to class on Monday looking like a floo hub during Christmas time."

Harry laughed as Ron began gathering up the remaining cards. "Then let's hope your winning streak doesn't last for more than three games. For Pansy's sake, at least." Although, some small part of Harry actually hoped he'd lose this round just so he could see Pansy Parkinson deliberately cover herself in old, gray cardboard residue.

Ron had just begun handing out the deck when the large clock mounted above their table let off a single resounding chime. Harry looked up to see that they only had ten minutes before they were to leave for dinner; about enough time for one more game of "Cover Harry in Bits of Exploded Cardboard and then Laugh at Him for Being Dusty".

Ron glanced up at Harry, "One more round then?"

"Unless you want to forego dinner and miss the unveiling of our daring fashion statements, then yes, one more round," Harry answered.

Ron smiled and finished passing out the cards. As he collected his half, he said, "Maybe tonight we could play some more. It is Friday, after all. What do you say, Harry? Do you have any plans?"

Harry gathered his cards and thought for a moment. Indeed, he did have plans, but he decided that, "I'm going to apparate a few thousand miles away to a Muggle night club to meet and most possibly dance with the person you hate most in the entire school" probably wasn't the best answer.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Great," Ron said happily. "We could get Hermione, too. She'll probably want to study, but I think a few rounds and some dust in her face might loosen her up a bit."

Ron played his first card and Harry set one on top of it. "And I'm sure she'll agree with you. Or, at least she will after she hexes you for getting dust in her hair. But other than that, it sounds like fun."

Ron laughed, "Good," and played another card.

Harry wasn't lying; spending a night with his two best friends truly did sound like fun. But, in the back of his mind was the image of Draco, bathed in the colors of a hundred pulsating lights and smiling devilishly as he rocked to the beat of an unknown song.

Harry really had no hope of winning this round.

BOOM!

"Yes! That's four!"

* * *

"...so Harry is going to stay in with us tonight. Right, mate?"

Harry smiled at Ron through his mouthful of mashed potatoes and nodded.

"Oh, that works out perfectly!" Hermione exclaimed happily over the light buzz of gossip in the Great Hall. "We can study for the History of Magic exam we have next week...and go over those Herbology notes... oh! And we should start researching for those Charms and Transfiguration essays, too..."

Harry and Ron simultaneously panicked and tried to interrupt Hermione's terrifying proposals, but instead ended up choking on their potatoes.

Ron recovered first and thumped Harry's back until he stopped coughing before turning to Hermione. "No way, Hermione. Harry and I just want to hang out and relax tonight, and that means no studying, no text books, and definitely no research papers." Harry nodded earnestly, which triggered another fit of violent coughing. After patting Harry's back again, Ron added, "And the potatoes obviously don't agree with you either."

"It's not my fault if your potatoes are homicidal," Hermione said rather snidely, and then paused. She surveyed the two pleading boys in front of her for a few seconds, taking in their obvious horror and alarmed choking, and she relented. "Fine," she sighed, "we can just talk and play a game of Exploding Snap or something. There's plenty of time for studying tomorrow."

Harry, still a bit red in the face, replied, "My larynx thanks you."

Ron and Hermione laughed softly and the three of them went back to their dinners. Harry, however, didn't eat anything more. Not because he was afraid of his murderous potatoes, of course (potatoes couldn't be murderous... could they?), but because his tumultuous thoughts were focused on other matters. Particularly those concerning a certain blonde-haired Slytherin sitting just across the Hall.

The fact that Harry could think about Malfoy now without feeling dirty or ashamed was something his mind was still getting used to. It had only been three days ago that any lingering thoughts about the other boy would leave Harry with a slight headache and a serious need to hit someone.

Now... well. Now it was different.

Not that Harry was particularly conscious of this development. But subconsciously, it was different. Harry just knew that he wasn't going to be at Ambrosia that night, and somehow, he had to tell Malfoy.

Just as they reached their definitive conclusion, Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione, who had yet another million dollar question. "Hey, Harry, I'm really glad that you're going to be with us tonight, but tell me, just out of curiosity, what have you been doing these past few nights?"

At this critical juncture it's wise to note that Harry's potatoes weren't anywhere near his throat and therefore cannot be held responsible for the sudden spasming and subsequent choking of Harry's esophagus. The fact that the potatoes cheered in delight at this moment can't be helped, though.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had superb control over his emotions, his temper, and his throat muscles, which is probably why he didn't choke when Pansy Parkinson asked him the very same question only 20 feet across the hall.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco lied with practiced ease, barely glancing away from his dinner.

Pansy, however, knew good gossip when it wasn't being told to her, and she wasn't fooled by Draco's nonchalance. Instead, she scooted her chair closer to Draco's and latched on to the arm of his sweater, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, Draco? It can be our little secret- I promise no one else will ever know."

Draco resisted the urge to snort. "Except for Blaise," he said, motioning to the avid eavesdropper close at his side, who shrugged innocently and continued listening.

"Well, of course he'll know, but Blaise doesn't count," Pansy brushed off the suggestion with a wave of her well-manicured hand.

"And Millicent. You tell her everything," Draco reminded.

Pansy faltered. "...Maybe, but she won't tell anyone..."

"And Crabbe and Goyle."

"Of course not! I would never... But, I guess Millicent would, wouldn't she...?"

"And let's not forget about all of the girls in your dorm."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Do you see what I'm getting at here?" Draco asked before stabbing rather harshly at his pile of potatoes and smiling kindly into Pansy's wide brown eyes. "Just give it up," he said sweetly. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

* * *

"I haven't been doing anything." Even though Harry's face was rather red from coughing and his eyes were a bit more glossy than normal, his friends could still see his lie coming from 1000 Quidditch pitches away.

"Harry, you don't have to lie to us; we're your friends," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, mate, we just wanna know what you've been up to," Ron chimed in hopefully from Harry's side.

'Lovely, they've practiced.' Harry faked a smile and said, "I've just been going to bed earlier, that's all."

Ron lifted an eyebrow while Hermione sighed and shook her head, irritated. Harry didn't like lying to his friends, but really, what other choice did he have?

Harry felt a hand on his arm and he looked over to see Ron's freckled face taut with worry.

"Harry, please, we know there's more to it than that." Ron lowered his voice. "If it's something to do with You-Know-Who, we won't tell anyone unless you ask us to, we promise." Ron turned to Hermione, who nodded eagerly. "We promise," she echoed.

Harry looked back and forth between his two friends, his two best friends, endeavoring for a believable lie that would end their suspicions and hopeless fantasies concerning his tragic demise.

"I... I've just been going off by myself, y'know, to be alone..." with 100 other people, "... and to think..." and to drink, "... and to just relax." by dancing with Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked up guiltily, bracing himself for more accusations and berating, to find Ron and Hermione smiling back at him gratefully.

"There. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Hermione said amiably.

"Yeah. Thanks for telling us," Ron replied with a squeeze to Harry's arm.

Harry smiled- That was close.

"But, Harry, now I'm curious... where have you been going?"

* * *

"That is none of your business, Pansy dear," Draco said at the ever-present leech still clinging to his arm.

"Aw, Draco," Pansy whined, scooting even closer, "can't you please just tell us?" Her voice lowered and she leaned in, near obtrusively. "You know I'd do anything for you... can't you do this one tiny little thing? For me?" Pansy's already round brown eyes widened even more and she pouted coyly, certain that even Draco wouldn't be able to resist this longstanding, well-proven technique.

Draco started laughing.

* * *

Harry fidgeted in his seat. "Oh, Just... around... y'know..."

"No, actually, we don't know, Harry. Where do you go to be alone?"

Harry smiled and swallowed nervously. "Well if I told you that it would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

Hermione and Ron were not amused.

* * *

Pansy snatched back her hand from Draco's sleeve and crossed her arms in a scandalized rage. Blaise, anxious now to hear the blonde's obviously deplorable story, finally decided to intervene. Surely no one- not even Draco- could defy the amazing, seductive, and patented, Blaise Zabini Charm ©.

"Well, Draco, baby," came Blaise's sultry voice from Draco's other side, "then how about doing it... for me?" Blaise looked straight into Draco's eyes and curled his lips saucily while slowly running the tips of his fingers along the edge of his plate. And, to ensure the desired results, he winked.

Draco started laughing. Again.

* * *

Ron took back his hand from Harry's arm and ran it through his fiery red hair, looking down at his food to search his green beans, ham, and yes, even his potatoes for any sign that could help him... Any at all would have been nice.

"Okay," he sighed at long last, "Harry, I know you don't want to tell us, but please understand... what if something happens while you're away being alone, like... some Death Eaters show up to kidnap you, and you try to fight them off but your wand doesn't work and instead of cursing them the only thing you can do is create small, fluffy bunnies and the Death Eaters just laugh at you before making the bunnies turn evil and attack you and you die because bunny teeth are a lot sharper than they look... Or something like that." Ron finished lamely, panting out the last few phrases heavily.

Hermione blinked and shook her head in confusion, but Harry got the message and he clenched his hands on the table. "Ron, Hermione," he said thinly through the burst of annoyance he felt coursing across his body, "Wherever I'm going, I promise I'm not going to be tortured with evil bunny curses and I'm most certainly not going to die while I'm there, okay? So please, just stop worrying."

"But, Harry-"

"No, Hermione. I'll talk to you guys later tonight, okay?" Harry looked back at his two friends as he stood from the table, and then he turned his head and stalked quickly toward the exit of the Great Hall.

* * *

Now with both of his friends equally scandalized and disgruntled, a rare moment of sympathy struck Draco and he decided to cut them a break in return for the amusement they had given him.

"Okay, I'm not going to tell you where I go, who I go with, or what I do, but I will tell you this-" Pansy and Blaise perked up and leaned in, eager to finally get a real answer from their callous friend. "-It's a lot more fun than either of you two are having." Draco snickered at the two shocked faces on either side of him, gracefully stood and plucked a strawberry from the bowl in the center of the table, and began walking cheerfully out of the Great Hall.

* * *

The Slytherin table was closer to the doors than the Gryffindor's ("The lazy bastards," as Ron would say), and Draco was almost in the center of the large entryway just outside of the Great Hall, when the wooden double doors behind him were flung open. Midway between popping his rather juicy and tasty-looking strawberry into his mouth, Draco stopped, turned, and almost died.

Okay, maybe "died" is a tad strong, but Draco did almost lose his strawberry when something solid and moving quickly ran straight into his side.

"Watch it!" Draco yelled as he regained his balance and turned around, ready to confront his attacker. "What... Oh, Potter." There was only a hint of surprise in Draco's voice as he said Harry's name, but his anger was obviously forgotten.

Harry's, however, wasn't.

Instead of excusing himself (or even acknowledging Draco's presence), Harry continued storming through the hall and was almost at the foot of the stairs when Draco called out, "Hey, Potter!"

Harry stopped, turned, and glared at the open area behind him, ready to scream at the expected friend, admirer, or enemy that had surely followed him. What he saw, however, wasn't any of those things- it was Draco.

Caught unprepared for this scenario, Harry simply blinked and answered, a tone louder than normal, "What?"

Draco paused. 'Good question,' he thought. Why had he stopped Harry anyway? It had seemed like a good idea only seconds ago, but now Draco's thoughts weren't exactly agreeing with his actions. Certainly he didn't want to talk with the Gryffindor, and he definitely didn't want to find out what was wrong, or, dear God, console him... did he?

While Draco's mind took its sweet time figuring out just what the hell he was doing, Draco stalled by lifting his plump, juicy strawberry to his lips and taking a large bite.

Harry, who was still rather tense and breathing angrily, watched in fascination as the red fruit passed Draco's lips and was severed in half with a single bite of the Slytherin's straight, white teeth. Slowly and unconsciously, Harry's body relaxed and his clenched fists loosened their death grip on his own palms- His heavy breathing didn't falter, though.

As Harry's anger slowly dissipated, his mind also began to clear. After watching Draco chew thoughtfully on his strawberry piece for a few more moments, the reality of the situation finally caught up to Harry, and he exclaimed, free of any anger or frustration, "Oh, right! I was going to tell you- I'm not going to be at Ambrosia tonight..." Harry smiled weakly. "Thought you should know."

Draco, rather surprised at Harry's sudden outburst, swallowed his snack-turned-stalling-tactic and heaved an inward sigh of relief. 'Thank Merlin for oblivious Gryffindors everywhere,' he thought, before the full impact of Harry had just said hit him. 'Oh.'

On the outside, Draco simply smirked. "Strange," he said, "that's what I was going to tell you." He took a step toward Harry, bringing the two face-to-face. "I can't go either and I didn't want you flying into hysterics when I didn't show up. I wouldn't even be around to watch." Draco's smirk pouted a bit and Harry cracked a small smile.

"Well, it looks like you won't have to worry about missing anything tonight. Maybe some other time, though. It's been a while since I've had a good hysteria fit."

Draco smiled. "Yeah, some other time."

Harry bowed his head for a second. "Okay," he said, and then looking up into Draco's eyes again, "But drinks are on you."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but before he could deliver his witty comeback, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Harry and Draco instinctively stepped back from one another and turned to find Ron and Hermione standing just inside the Entrance Hall. Almost immediately after spotting Harry and Draco, Ron's body seized and his mouth gaped in consternation, while Hermione simply froze with her eyebrows furrowed.

No one spoke for a long moment, though Harry did do a rather convincing impression of a fish gasping for water. Ron's face continued to grow redder the longer he glared at Draco, and it was soon apparent to everyone that when he blew, it was going to be huge, loud, and most possibly painful. So, when Ron took in a large breath of air to begin his tirade, Draco cut him off.

"Save it, Weasley," he sneered, and Ron's mouth snapped shut. "This doesn't concern you." Draco faced Harry once again, his eyes softening distinctly. "We're done here, right?" he questioned.

"Yes," Harry replied, and then, staring straight into Draco's flashing gray eyes, added, "For now."

A brief, knowing look passed between the two boys and Harry had to keep himself from smiling. Screw morals- keeping secrets from his friends was fun.

Draco's mouth curved upward faintly before he nodded and turned toward the dungeon entrance, all without a backward glance at Harry's two confused friends.

When the last of Draco's shadow disappeared down the dark staircase, Ron and Hermione brought their attention back to Harry.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked in a strained voice.

Harry calmly answered, "Nothing. I just had to tell Malfoy something."

Ron still looked confused, but Hermione spoke before he could ask anything more. "You must mean about your Potions assignment," she stated confidently.

Harry's cheeks flushed. "Yeah. The Potions assignment."

Ron's face loosened a bit. "Oh, I had forgotten that you two were partners. Sorry about that," he said, glancing hopefully at Harry.

"Don't be," Harry replied. "It wasn't your fault. Or, at least not entirely."

Ron put his hands in his pockets sheepishly. "So..." he started off, unsure of what to say.

Harry smiled. "How about a round of Exploding Snap? You too, Hermione," he offered, and his two friends were visibly pleased.

"Sounds good," Ron said, and Harry motioned for them to follow him up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Draco closed the door to his room behind him, the traces of a smirk lingering on his lips. He was glad that Harry wasn't totally repulsed by the dance last night, and was anxiously looking forward to the next time they could go to the Muggle club- but tonight he had other matters to attend to.

Draco's smile faded as he reached into his pocket and drew out a piece of folded, wrinkled parchment. His father's letter. He held the thick square in his hands for a long moment, simply staring at the blood-red lines visible through the paper's back side. He had no intention of opening the letter again- just looking at it already made his stomach turn. Besides, he knew what it said, its message clear and undeniable in Lucius' elegant, slanted scrawl.

Draco-

A most wonderful event has recently been brought to my attention, and I couldn't be more proud of you, son.

Our Lord has finally deemed you worthy of receiving his mark on the eve of Saturday 27^th, and I know you will not let him down. This ceremony marks the beginning of a new life for both of us, where all of our dreams can become reality. Already plans have been made that will change our world as we know it, and the Dark Lord has assured me that you will hold a great role in those changes. I truly am proud of you.

I await your answer.

-Lucius

It sounded almost innocent, the way his father glorified his impending ceremony, but Draco was wise enough now to read between Lucius' deceitful, jaded lines:

Draco-

A most wonderful event has recently been brought to my attention, and I couldn't be more proud of you, son (I've never had a reason to be proud of you, brat).

Our Lord has finally deemed you worthy (old enough) of receiving his mark (being painfully branded) on the eve of Saturday 27^th, and I know you will not let him down (and if you mess this up, your punishment will be severe). This ceremony marks the beginning of a new life for both of us (me), where all of our (my) dreams (death, destruction, havoc) can become reality. Already plans have been made that will change our world as we know it (into a hollow wasteland), and the Dark Lord has assured me that you will hold a great role in those changes (you will probably die in his servitude). I truly am proud of you (Don't give me a reason to be ashamed of you).

I await your answer (You have no choice).

-Lucius (Bastard)

Draco closed his fist around the letter, listening to the crinkling paper with mirth. I await your answer. Draco almost laughed. His father made it sound as if he had an option, as if he could just say, "No, thanks" to the Dark Lord and walk away with no more than a parting handshake. But Draco knew better. This wasn't a request to join Lord Voldemort; it was a summons, a demand, an order, and Draco knew what happened to those who disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders. Which was why Draco's hands were shaking as he retrieved his wand from his pocket, and his voice wavered as he whispered a soft, "Incendio." The letter flared up in a bright flash of red and yellow flame, and then it was extinguished. Draco watched mournfully as the dark ash fell from his hand and floated slowly to the ground, the blackened pieces immediately staining his pale cream carpet.

Draco stared at the blemished fibers in cold contemplation, before letting a rueful smile cross his features. 'Better you than me,' he thought heatedly at the branded floor, before stepping roughly forward and crushing the shadowed chunks into the soft pastel ground.

* * *

"I think he's drunk."

"No, he's not! He's just sleeping. The poor baby, he must have been really tired to fall asleep in his uniform..."

"Yeah, that can't be comfortable." Pause. "Let's take it off."

"Blaise!"

"What, it's not like he'd notice! And I bet he'd thank us when he woke up."

"Well..."

"Pansy, if you agree with that idiot, I may be forced to slap you."

Draco opened his gray eyes slowly and peered up at his two friends, who suddenly jumped and gawked at him from where they stood arguing beside his large four-poster.

"Draco! I didn't know you were awake. And, no, I wasn't going to agree with Blaise, I promise," Pansy defended herself, rushing over to place her hand on the edge of Draco's dark green sheets.

Blaise snorted. "You were too, you liar. I saw that look in your eyes- like you were a starving flobberworm and Draco was a field of lettuce. It's the same way you look at those triple-decker cheeseburgers at lunchtime." Pansy glared at the taller boy next to her with pure venom in her eyes, while Blaise simply turned to smile roguishly at Draco as he sat up and ran his pale hands through his sleep-mussed hair. "It was a good idea, anyway."

Draco let his elbows rest on his bent knees and looked up despairingly at Blaise. "For whom, exactly?" Blaise's mouth opened and he was about to respond when Draco held up his hand. "Never mind, don't answer that. Now why don't you two leave so I can get changed? Alone?"

"Of course, Draco." Pansy immediately complied, standing to leave and only turning back around to grab Blaise's arm and forcibly tug him from Draco's bedside.

"If you need any help, I'll be right out here, okay? Don't be shy," Blaise called as they reached the door, winking back suggestively at Draco. The blonde smirked and reached covertly behind him to grab and throw a smooth, fluffy pillow straight into the other boy's face. With this surprise and one final tug on his arm, Pansy forced Blaise through the door and slammed it shut, leaving Draco alone in the large 6^th year boy's dorm.

Draco smiled and shook his head, laughing slightly. "I need new friends," he mumbled quietly to himself. Instantly and involuntarily, a flash of Harry invaded his mind, dancing smoothly with Draco under a sea of twirling lights and pounding music in the center of Ambrosia's packed dance floor. "That works." Glancing briefly at his bedside clock, Draco stood and grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his wardrobe before heading swiftly to the bathroom to get ready for the day- and, he hoped, for the night.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting comfortably under the shade of a large oak tree, close enough to the lake to appreciate its waving, shimmering surface, but far enough away to avoid being unexpectedly drenched by one of the giant squid's probing tentacles. All three had their books open, but only one was truly using it. Hermione was oblivious as Harry and Ron sat hunched together building a small fort out of grass, their Transfigurations books tossed carelessly behind them.

Ron gently placed a stick through the center of their small bastion, then sat back to survey the duo's handiwork- and his face fell.

"Bloody Hell," he declared despondently, causing Harry and Hermione look up at him.

"What?" Harry replied, puzzled. "It doesn't look that bad..." he then proceeded to pat down the sides of their small grass hut, careful not to disturb the possessive twig in the middle of the roof.

"No, not that," Ron spoke irritably. "Malfoy just came outside. And it looks like he's heading our way."

Harry's head immediately snapped up and he peered at the area Ron motioned to. A small grin crossed his face at the sight of the Slytherin, who did indeed seem to be coming their way. Harry quickly schooled his features into a mask of disinterest just as Malfoy reached their cool, secluded spot and paused in front of Harry.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron spat angrily before the blonde had a chance to open his mouth.

Draco gave Ron a brief, flippant glance, and then turned back to Harry, who raised his eyebrows in lighthearted question.

His gaze still locked on Harry's, Draco answered Ron, "I need to speak with Potter for a moment, if he isn't too busy." Draco's eyes flicked down to the makeshift grass house by Harry and Ron's feet, and he smirked. Harry blushed, as did Ron, though not for the same reasons.

"What do you need to talk to Harry about? It can't be that important. Or pleasant," Ron sneered.

Draco's eyes finally darted away from Harry's and he glared at Ron with disgust.

"It's none of your business, Weasley. This is private."

Ron glared back. "Anything you have to say to Harry can be said in front of us." Draco didn't respond, so Ron prompted further. "Go on; say what it is you came for so you can leave. The sooner, the better."

Draco's eyes flashed angrily for a moment, but when he turned back to Harry there was a thoughtful, almost mischievous tinge to his features, which caused Harry to look up warningly at the blonde.

"Very well," Draco said slowly, and Harry panicked. Whatever this was about, it could definitely not be said in front of his friends, his two quick-tempered, hex-first-ask-questions-later type friends, and Harry was just about to open his mouth in fervent protest, but Draco was too fast.

"We need more Ambrosia," he calmly stated, and Harry's mouth snapped shut. He spared a glance at Ron and Hermione, who seemed unreactant, but were obviously waiting to hear Harry's response. 'We need more Ambrosia? Merlin, how transparent can you be? My friends are Gryffindors, not idiots, Malfoy. What do you expect me to-'

"For our Potions assignment. We need more ambrosia for the Veritaserum." Draco gave Harry a meaningful, pointed look, and Harry's mouth opened slightly as a dawning realization and relief struck him.

"Oh," he began, trying his best to sound casual, "right; more ambrosia for the Potions project... We didn't have enough last time." Draco quirked an eyebrow, glad that Harry had caught on so quickly, and also amused by his clever answer.

"Exactly. I was thinking that another batch would be good, but, who knows, we may need even more than that," Draco replied, gladly playing along.

"We'll see," Harry said, his lips quirking into a small smile. "If it isn't enough by tonight, we'll just have to add more until we're satisfied. Agreed?"

Draco's smirk widened. "Agreed."

"Great, that's settled," Ron butted in rudely. "You can leave," he practically growled at Draco, "now." Ron reached behind him and grabbed a corner of his discarded Transfigurations book, throwing it into his lap and bluntly ignoring Malfoy's presence. Hermione sat quietly and continued to watch.

With a sigh, Harry met Draco's eyes again and he nodded his goodbye, an apologetic smirk still lingering on his lips. Draco "hmm"-ed and nodded back, before giving Ron one last heated glare and walking away.

Harry watched Draco's retreating back with delight. That was much more fun than it should have been.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione called his attention, "sorry that you have to work with Malfoy. It must be really hard." She gave him a sympathetic, supportive look, but Harry just shrugged.

Maybe Potions wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

"Maybe Potions isn't so bad after all," Harry said, raising his voice over the loud, thumping music.

Draco stopped walking and blinked at Harry. Under the blazing neon lights that read "New Wave Nite" in Ambrosia's entryway, Draco's expression of incredulity was made almost comical, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the blonde's reaction. Draco wore a pair of (tightly) fitted jeans and a deep blue shirt that would reveal the tiniest streak of taut, pale skin if he raised his hand ever so slightly. Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sorry, I thought you just said 'Potions isn't so bad,' but I must be going deaf. What'd you say?"

Harry shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. "Potions isn't so bad," he answered uncertainly, making the statement sound almost like a question.

Draco stared, wide-eyed at Harry. "I'm so happy right now I think I may never move from this spot again. Oh, I love this song," Draco smiled widely and grabbed Harry's arm, beginning to tug them both towards the packed dance floor.

Harry, however, stopped and tugged Draco back, laughing. "You don't want to get drinks first?"

"No," Draco replied and yanked Harry's arm again. Harry moved one step and stopped.

"You just don't want to pay for them. Remember, drinks are on you this time."

Draco sighed. "Potter. You'd better stop stalling and get your ass on that dance floor before I stupefy you into submission. Are we clear?"

Harry looked thoughtfully at the smirking blonde. "But if I'm stupefied, I won't be able to dance, will I?"

Draco closed his eyes for a moment. "So. Not. The. Point." When he opened his eyes, Harry was grinning back impishly at him, barely controlling the laughter that so obviously wanted to escape his body. "You git," Draco responded drolly, tugging Harry's arm again. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you." Draco took a step backwards and Harry submissively followed. "How splendid."

Harry laughed as Draco turned around and began weaving his way in between the heavily made-up teens on Ambrosia's bright green dance floor. Harry's ruby red shirt stretched across his torso as Draco pulled him through the crowd once again; every now and then bumping into someone's flailing arm, leg, or various other extremities. Eventually, Draco found a spot he was satisfied with and he faced Harry, grinning wildly.

"What's made you so happy tonight?" Harry questioned, leaning in so Draco could hear him.

"I've been waiting for this all day," Draco replied unabashedly. "And I know you have to, so don't look at me like that."

Harry hoped the swirling green lights covered up the sudden blush that rushed to his cheeks. "Oh, have I? Prove it."

"Well," Draco began, stepping closer to Harry, "first, there's that wonderfully bright flush to your face," Harry's blush deepened, "and secondly, I know that you were thinking about being right here, with me, every second of the day you spent playing with your little friends." Draco stated this so confidently, his silver eyes gazing into Harry's so boldly, that Harry couldn't help but ask, "How did you know that?"

Draco smirked and leaned in further so that he was speaking into Harry's ear, his breath ruffling the disheveled black locks with each measured breath, "I didn't."

The lights suddenly exploded into bright bursts of color as the current song switched, and Draco pulled back to look into Harry's open, red face with delighted supremacy. Harry was shocked into silence, but when Draco smirked and began slowly moving his body to the new driving beat, Harry smiled and let out a small laugh.

"Bastard."

This is where I'll be so heavenly
So come and dance with me Michael
So sexy, I'm sexy
So come and dance with me Michael
I'm all that you see, you wanna see
So come and dance with me Michael

The corners of Draco's mouth lifted and he increased the pressure on Harry's arm, encouraging the Gryffindor to shut up and start dancing. Harry shook his head in amusement and complied, gradually rocking his body in time with Draco's own and the lively, energetic rhythm that pulsated throughout the club.

It was easier to start this time, easier to feel the beat connect with his movements, easier to relax with Draco's close proximity and the languid sways of his lean torso and hips. Again, they stood close to one another; close enough for Draco to keep his hand on Harry's arm and for Harry to see the flecks of light blue in Draco's silver eyes, but far enough away for their hips to swing evasively from each other with every uninhibited rock, sway, and thrust. The centimeters of heated air that separated their two bodies was both a blessing and a curse- each almost-touch brought a wave of pure energy and desire, stinging their skin even through its short distance and gradually easing the two into a concentrated, one-track state of dancing. At the same time, every body roll that brought them closer to the source of that irresistible power made it harder to deny the yearning for more- More skin, more sweat, and more of the touch that they had been denied to for far too long.

It was Harry who made the first move.

So close now, so close now
So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

When Draco's fingers momentarily lifted to better grip Harry's bicep, the Gryffindor jumped, his own hand shooting up to grasp Draco's pale wrist and halting the roving fingers from leaving his sensitized skin. Draco glanced down at his captive hand in wonder, now trapped between the bend of Harry's forearm and shoulder, and then brought his eyes back up to Harry's, meeting the wide green orbs with intense wonder. Not breaking his gaze, Draco slowly pushed against Harry's resistance, lifting his hand completely from the other boy's body and allowing Harry's grip slide limply down to his bare elbow. Draco let his hand hover for a moment, ghosting over Harry's shoulder and exposed collarbone teasingly, before finally landing lightly on the back of his neck, Draco's forearm pressed steadily against the front of Harry's chest. As Draco moved his body to the pulsing music, his fingers involuntarily stroked Harry's tan neck and grazed the edges of his mussed hair softly, causing Harry's torso to constrict as waves of excited tremors rolled down his own rocking body.

Michael, you're the boy with all the leather hips
Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips
Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want
Only one I'd ever want
Only one I'd ever want

Harry, his attention still fixated on the sensation of Draco's fingers as they brushed the back of his neck, cautiously began moving his own hand up Draco's arm, past his elbow and over his defined bicep, before pausing on the curve of his firm shoulder. It was only a moment before Harry moved his hand again, a split second in which his dance-fogged brain made a quick decision- to move lower.

Harry swallowed and felt the hand on his neck clench in surprise as his fingers fell below Draco's shoulder, tracing the hard lines of his thinly-covered ribs and shoulder blades with timid infatuation. Harry's hand ran down the length of Draco's lean torso, eventually coming to rest on the bare skin of Draco's rocking hips. Draco's lips parted and a breath of hot air escaped from his mouth as Harry's touch invaded his senses, the naked skin of his waist burning as it met Harry's.

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dance floor
Michael, you're dancing like a beautiful dance whore
Michael, waiting on a silver platter now

And nothing matters now

Draco's abdomen was like molten asphalt under Harry's hand- hot and hard, yet still capable of flowing to the music in perfect, sensual rhythm, and Harry wanted more. Harry's tongue darted out to swipe his dry lips as he tore his eyes from Draco's, his gaze sliding down to scan the other boy's swaying hips appraisingly. Slowly, Harry brought his free hand to Draco's side, his fingers grazing the edges of Draco's short t-shirt where it lay high on his torso. At the feeling of Draco's fingers running encouragingly up his neck, Harry dipped his hand and let it run boldly across Draco's firm, pale skin. Draco's long fingers suddenly buried themselves in the ends of Harry's thick, black hair, and Harry raised his eyes to search Draco's once again. Dark, intense green met shining silver under the flashing, colored ceiling and Harry couldn't help but caress the silky skin under his hands, stroking his thumbs across Draco's pronounced hipbones before inching his way back, across the small dip of his waistline and around to the base of Draco's rocking spine. Draco's eyes fell shut for a moment, temporarily overwhelmed by the simple weight of Harry's hands on his back, the fingers pressing against his sweaty, tense skin with a cautious intimacy that was wonderfully and uniquely Harry's. Draco's fingers tangled deeper into Harry's hair and he felt the pressure on his back increase, propelling him that much closer to Harry- closer to his tight chest and gyrating hips, closer to the soft skin covering his heated body, and closer to his wide, jade-colored eyes and smooth, flushed face. The rough material of Draco's jeans briefly brushed Harry's and he deliberately ran his fingers through the ends of Harry's surprisingly soft hair, causing the Gryffindor to let out a small, appreciative sigh.

This is what I am, I am a man
so come and dance with me Michael
So strong now, it's strong now
so come and dance with me Michael

The thought should have been there; the thought that this was wrong, that holding your enemy on a dance floor was disgusting and immoral and stop now before you're infected with his giant, man-eating cooties- but it wasn't. That was what other people thought, or knew, or thought they knew- but as their bodies rocked hotly together on the dance floor, Harry and Draco were certain that being this close was right, and sooner or later (sooner), "close" wasn't going to be close enough.

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dance floor
Michael, you're dancing like a beautiful dance whore
Michael, waiting on a silver platter now

And nothing matters now