Wet Kiss

Wet Kiss

Hot water fell down around Harry, scalding his head, shoulders, and back. He picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing away at himself, occasionally scratching long red lines in his flesh with his fingernails. His teeth were gritted and he focused solely on the task at hand: washing himself of the dirt and grime that seemed indelibly ingrained in his flesh. He was beyond angry; he was livid. Naturally, his anger stemmed from his worst, most hated enemy, Draco Malfoy. What Malfoy had done this time was beyond comprehension, completely unforgivable, and categorically irreparable.

It had started out such a promising day for Harry. It had been a bright, clear, and sunny October morning when he awoke, got dressed, and decided on a day of flying. Saturdays were usually reserved for more social activities like common room gatherings and seventh-year outings to Hogsmeade, so Harry had been sure the Quidditch pitch would be empty. And it had been. For the most part, at least.

About an hour before the sun was due to set, another figure had appeared at the edge of the Quidditch pitch. If it had not been for the shock of blond hair, Harry may have ignored the figure and continued to fly peacefully. Instead, he had known exactly who was watching and exactly what he wanted - a fight. Malfoy had flown up in that graceful, aristocratic, "I'm better than you" way that made Harry subconsciously grit his teeth, raised an eyebrow, and proffered the Golden Snitch.

"Up for a quick game, Potter?" Harry had been inclined to turn and forget Malfoy ever existed, but he was never one to refuse a challenge.

"A game? Of what, who can catch the Snitch? I think we've seen that I'm the one who can, and you're the one who can't."

"I wouldn't be so sure of yourself if I were you..."

"Why not? You've charmed the Snitch to make it fly into your hand?" To that, Malfoy merely sneered and released his grip on the Snitch. It flew around them a couple of times before disappearing into the darkening sky.

"Catch it if you can, Potter."

They had spent a good half an hour waiting around for the Snitch to materialise, and had they been concentrating on anything but looking for the Snitch, they would have noticed the dark clouds slowly making their way across the Forbidden Forest towards the Hogwarts castle. Malfoy had spent the first fifteen minutes without break taunting Harry, trying to make him react to him. He had pushed every button he could think of - The Boy Who Lived, the Weasel and his mudblood girlfriend, his dead parents - but Harry had steadfastly ignored him.

"You know, Potter," Harry would have noticed Malfoy's eyes flicker if he had been looking, "you have an awfully," Malfoy had dropped a couple of feet in the air, catching Harry's eye, "nice," he had quirked an eyebrow, and this time Harry noticed his eyes move, "arse."

Harry scratched at his scalp with the pretense of washing his hair, his eyes shut tightly against the torrent of hot water and soap suds that stung his skin. He should have seen it coming. The little twerp, saying something like that to throw him off-balance. Well, it worked, didn't it? Harry emitted a frustrated growl and rubbed his hands over his face so hard that when his fingers passed over his eyes he saw black spots.

Malfoy's lewd comment had certainly distracted Harry from whatever the Slytherin was about to do. As it happened, Malfoy had spotted the Snitch, which had been hovering a few yards below Harry at the time, and the comment had distracted Harry just long enough for Malfoy to get a good head start on racing after the small golden fleck. Harry had chased after Malfoy relentlessly around the Quidditch pitch until it seemed as if Malfoy had no intention of actually catching the Snitch. Harry had started to gain on Malfoy and the Snitch after a few minutes, and he had noticed that they were flying rather close to the ground. This didn't frighten him, but the fact that Malfoy had seen him out of the corner of his eye was rather disconcerting. All Malfoy had to do to catch the Snitch was speed up just a little and reach out.

What happened next had happened so quickly that Harry couldn't remember it clearly. Malfoy had pushed forth with a short burst of speed, then stopped his broomstick altogether, so that Harry had flown straight into him and knocked them both off their brooms into the muddy earth below them. They had landed with a loud thud, Malfoy atop Potter, and...

Harry screwed his eyes shut tighter, trying to push the thought away. However, the force only served to ingrain the image more firmly on his memory. He couldn't help replaying the moment in his mind, disturbing though it was. The little bastard, why couldn't he have left things the way they were?

Malfoy had pinned Harry to the ground, pushing one of his shoulders into the pliable ground with one hand and holding a fist over Harry's head with the other hand. He had opened his hand to reveal the Golden Snitch, which had been muddied in the fall, and smiled down at Harry. Harry had tried to squirm out of Malfoy's grip, but the other boy was surprisingly strong for his slight figure.

"You know, Potter, there's only one thing I'm going to miss about leaving Hogwarts."

"Oh yeah?" Harry had asked, trying to shove the other boy off of him. "What's that?"

"This." For a moment, Harry had wondered what Malfoy meant by that. Does he mean Quidditch? Or beating me? Or seeing me weak? He had discovered quickly, however, that Malfoy meant exactly none of those things. His tip-off could have been the suddenly serious look Malfoy got in his eyes as he said it, or it could have been the subtle shift in his grip on his shoulder from painful to firm, but mostly it had been the way Malfoy kissed him. Harry had been too shocked initially to realise what was going on and had allowed the other boy's lips to rest against his as gently as they had.

Despite Harry's best efforts to remove the sensation with scrubbing, he could still feel Malfoy's lips on his. He had now given up. There was no way he could forget what Malfoy had done; no amount of scrubbing or anger would allow him to forget. He slumped against the door of the shower stall, the hot water still running, hitting his shins mercilessly. With a sense of defeat, he turned the taps off and took his towel from the door. He stepped out of the shower stall and into the empty locker room, picking up his glasses before anything else.

As he dressed himself, his mind wandered unchecked back to those few very brief moments of gentle contact between him and his worst enemy. Once Harry had realised what was going on, he had thrown Malfoy from him and stood up. The hurt look in Malfoy's eyes had been brief but undeniable; however, Harry had ignored it, glared at Malfoy incredulously, and Summoned his broomstick before retreating to the locker rooms without a word.

An odd feeling stirred in the pit of Harry's stomach as he pulled his trousers on. He felt strangely guilty for dismissing Malfoy so quickly even though he was sure - no, I'm positive - he was just trying to stir him up. There had been something sincere in Malfoy's eyes; however, because the boy had never looked sincere to Harry in the past seven years, he couldn't be sure.

What if he wasn't lying?

"Don't be silly," Harry answered himself quietly, tugging a sock on. "Malfoy's always lying."

Yeah, but what if he wasn't? What would you do?

"I'd have done the same thing. I don't want that from Malfoy, of all people."

Then why do you keep thinking about it?

"It's not exactly something you can forget in a hurry, is it?"

Perhaps not, but that doesn't change the fact you get excited thinking about it.

Harry then grumbled incoherently and thought it was a very bad idea to have this argument with himself. Then again, he did have a point...

"Shut up."

Your loss. But he doesn't have such a bad arse, himself.

"I said shut up."

Thunder cracked outside and broke his concentration. His mind scattered and he pulled his cloak around him as he ventured into the rain storm, not caring what effect the cold rain would have on his overheated body. The cold air and rain pricked his sensitised skin as he walked across the vast Hogwarts grounds, his head raised defiantly. He was not going to entertain the thought of kissing Malfoy anymore.

Yeah you are. Don't lie. You liked it.

"I did not," Harry muttered to himself, pulling his cloak around him more firmly. "And anyway, didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"I recall you didn't say a word." The voice came from nowhere, but as he stopped walking and looked up he saw Malfoy standing in front of him, hair plastered to his face from the rain. Harry frowned a little but refused to move or look away. If he was going to get rid of that horrible voice in his head, he'd have to face Malfoy. "Is that what you've done to everyone who's tried to hit on you, Potter? Stalked off without another word?"

"If you call crashing into me at twenty miles an hour and then kissing me for some strange reason 'hitting on me', then yes, that is what I do to everyone, because you've been the only one so far."

Malfoy smirked wrly. "Well, then, don't I feel special," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry gritted his teeth, but his patience with the other boy had run out a while ago. "You know, I don't understand you, Malfoy, not one bit. You go all serious and kissy on me on the pitch and now you're being all sarcastic... what are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing, Potter," Malfoy answered in a dejected sort of tone, which made Harry wince a little. He had been rather harsh on Malfoy, considering what he had admitted. However, Harry hadn't believed it was real, until now.

Harry coughed and took a tentative step closer. "I'm sorry that I... uh, for what I did, but you don't exactly give me much reason to believe you."

"Oh, so now you care, do you?" Harry would have likely gotten angry were it not for the despondent look on the other boy's face.

"I guess I just... I mean, I want to know if it was real. If you were telling the truth." Harry shuffled on his spot, the rain getting to be a bit of a hindrance when it came to seeing through his glasses.

"Of course I was telling the truth. Even if I did hate you like everyone seems to think I do, I'd still miss you most of all. You're always bloody there."

Harry expected the words to sound harsh, but they didn't. "Well... then... and the kiss?"

"It was real." Malfoy's voice had dropped, and it sent a shiver through Harry's body.

Go on. You know you want to.

"Well, I," Harry stammered, looking at his hands, which were horribly pruned. He thought vaguely that he probably shouldn't be out in the rain, but it was a vain attempt to block his other thoughts. "I guess I should, um, thank you... or something."

Malfoy smiled, but Harry couldn't see it with his wet glasses. "Only if you liked it."

"Well... um, I..."

Just bloody do it already, you silly git!

"I suppose I did, a little."

"Enough to do it again?" Malfoy took a small step closer, and the back of Harry's neck suddenly felt a lot warmer, despite the weather.

If you don't do it now, I'm going to spontaneously combust! I'm warning you!

Finally listening to himself, Harry quickly took a step forward, leaned in, and pressed his lips against the other boy's. Malfoy reacted instantly and returned the kiss whole-heartedly, reaching up with one hand to rest against Harry's cheek. Harry scooted forward and soon their bodies were pressed against one another, rain trickling down from one onto the other.

Now that's more like it.