Into The Woods

~.~.~

It had been raining on and off for a month. Long enough that people had stopped postponing the Quidditch matches and simply played on, with the occasional moments of driving wind and the added slipperiness of the brooms merely adding an extra bit of excitement to the game. Last week the Ravenclaw seeker's broom had been so waterlogged it had simply ceased to work, two hundred foot above the ground, right after catching the snitch. A Hufflepuff bludger had managed to grab her robe as she dropped past, setting her down safely still waving the snitch triumphantly in the air.

Other classes kept on in the rain, too. Herb-witchery meant gathering fresh herbs, and there was only so much you could do with the pots of basil, belladonna and bay that grew inside, especially when due to a miscast curse by a third year made at the start of term caused any plant not beginning with a b die within a week indoors at Hogwarts, in spite of Professor Sprout's best efforts. You could try growing others, but sooner or later someone would forget to call them b'sage and b'rowan and then they'd wither and die. Eventually Professor Sprout sent them out herb gathering with a strong water-repellent spell and, in the case of several muggle-born students, umbrellas. Some of the more enterprising students had taken to sending home for more umbrellas, then selling them to students who had trouble with the water-repelling spell. Of course, even the best spell was only good against normal rain, and Hogwarts was occasionally prone to some more unusual weather.

There was a loud crack of thunder followed by a shower of fish. Hermione put up her umbrella and held it out over Neville who was attempting to find out which of the hundred and one different strains of moss was growing on the wall. "Fish," she said in a tone of extreme disgust. "I can't believe it's fish."

"Could be worse," Ron said cheerfully, coming up behind her and attempting to stand under the umbrella. "We had frogs last week, and those funny rectangle things with the buttons."

"Game boys. Complete with tetris. When my parents send me the AAA batteries I'll show you how they work."

Ron shrugged. "Bloody painful when they hit you on the head, that's all I know. And at least the fish are dead, not like those frogs, hopping around, ribbeting, making me mess up my Charms assignment."

"If you'd practised like I said you should, you wouldn't have been distracted by one measly little frog." Hermione recognised the nagging tone in her voice but didn't bother trying to stop it. It was true, and Ron knew it was true, and part of being friends meant he didn't whine too much about her nagging and she didn't whine when he acted like a complete plank. In exchange he got help with his homework and she got a someone who didn't glare at her every time she gave the right answer in class and call her names behind her back. "Besides, I liked the frogs. They were kind of sweet. And at least they didn't smell." Hermione kicked a large brown trout that had landed near her foot. "I can't believe Professor Snape wanted to use them in that ambi gilla potion." Her voice took on a note of righteous indignation. Ron rolled his eyes upward, then jumped back as a small flurry of mackerel headed towards his face.

"I've got it Hermione! It'll work just as well the night's eye weed, maybe even better." Neville held up a handful of dark green moss, which Hermione automatically checked against the list. "Especially if Harry gets some knotgrass."

"Poor Harry, getting stuck being teamed up with Pansy and Malfoy." Ron's voice was deeply sympathetic. "And he'll probably end up doing all the work while those two…"

"I wonder what Krum's doing," Hermione said unthinkingly. Ron snorted, managing to imply a healthy amount of disgust over what he called 'mushiness with someone from a rival school, and I don't know which is worse'. Hermione smirked. "He was telling me they had a colony of veelas nearby. Maybe I should ask him if any of them want a pen pal?"

~.~.~

The water-repelling spell had worked for almost three hours, an unusually long stretch of time. It was the final downpour that collapsed it, plastering Harry's clothes to his skin and making his dark hair stick to the side of his face is uneven clumps. Malfoy absently noted that it needed cutting, and that the drowned rat effect made Potter look thinner, vulnerable. Every few minutes he'd reach up a hand to rub at his glasses, trying to wipe them clear enough to see but a few seconds later and they'd be covered again. Pansy leaned closer to Malfoy, using the excuse of shelter from the umbrella to lean in. She shot Potter a contemptuous look, which Malfoy doubted he could see, and slid an arm around Malfoy's waist.

"Nice and dry under here," she purred out. "What's the matter Potter, didn't your muggle family send you a brolly? Why, anyone would think they didn't care about you." She managed to say the last in a tone of complete innocence which made Malfoy snigger. Pleased at her reaction from him, she turned to smile at Malfoy, and quite missed the sight of Potter's thin body stiffening in response to the blow, before it was absorbed and he bent down to pick at a small patch of red flowers near the base of a tree.

"Nice one," Malfoy whispered in Pansy's ear, giving it a quick, soft bite. "We'd let you share ours Potter," he said more loudly, "but there really isn't room. And you know how couples like being together. Oh wait, you don't. Sorry, forgot about that. Do you think he's still a virgin?" He mock-whispered to Pansy.

"Maybe that's why You-Know-Who has such an interest in him," she said in her best wide-eyed innocent voice. "Virgin sacrifice."

"Not something you've ever had to worry about," Potter said, standing up facing Pansy. Malfoy saw his fists clench and heard the hot, sharp anger in his voice with satisfaction. "And don't worry, I'm sure Voldemort would still take you," Potter went on, emphasising the name and watching Pansy's unconscious, uncontrolled flinch. "When it comes to people, he's almost as indiscriminate as you and Malfoy."

"You say that like it's bad thing," Draco said, wondering how much further he could push Potter and what he would do if he did.

Harry reached for his wand automatically, wondering what it was exactly about Malfoy's smug grin that made him react so strongly. He wasn't the first boy to insult Harry. First prize for creatively nasty comments actually went to a boy in Harry's primary school, who, at Dudley's suggestion, had given Harry six of the worst months of his life, managing to slide in hurtful insults that ranged from mosquito bite insults that itched at Harry's mind for years after to comments with the grace, subtlety and end effect of being mauled by a rabid tiger. In comparison, Malfoy was bad, but not the worst and yet something about his endless round of insults, schemes and conflict set Harry's teeth on edge, time after time.

Draco saw Potter's movement towards his wand and shifted slightly to touch his own. A hard note of anticipation entered him at the thought of fighting with Potter, with the added satisfaction of knowing that even if he beat him, Potter would still lose. Griffyndor couldn't afford to lose any more points, and a fight was just the sort of excuse Snape needed to strip 50 from them. Then he saw the same thoughts cross Potter's face, and with a sense of acute disappointment saw Potter breathe in slowly and unclench his fists.

Draco could feel the careful drawing in and control of emotions from Potter and felt an almost blinding sense of frustration as Potter turned his attention back to the plants growing under the oak tree, deliberately ignoring him. He felt Pansy make a small noise of disappointment next to him.

"Oh, damn. For a moment there I thought he was actually going to do something," she whispered, frowning at Potter's back. "Should have known better. Wimp."

Harry knelt down by the base of the tree and started trying to pull the knotgrass up. The tree didn't offer any shelter from the rain. Instead it seemed to act as a funnel, so rather than hundreds of tiny drops falling on him, there were only a dozen concentrated streams of water, falling on his head, glasses, down the back of his neck and right into his trainers. Every time he walked he heard them squelch and he mentally composed a long and grateful letter to Mrs. Weasley, thanking her for the latest jumper. He'd put it on over his robe that morning, just so that he could honestly tell Mrs Weasley that he'd worn it. True, the combination of colours was almost painful to the eye, and the sleeves were slightly uneven, and it was several sizes too big, but at the moment it was probably the only thing keeping him from acute hypothermia. A water-repelling spell had been worked into the wool, keeping it dry even when the rest of Harry was soaking wet. With a final tug he managed to pull the plant out. He wrapped the newest ingredient in brown paper and dropped it in the bag.

"You'll have to get the next two ingredients. If I touch any of the plants after getting the knotgrass it'll contaminate the magic," Harry said and started to leave. Malfoy grabbed him by the collar of his robe, snapping him back so suddenly Harry dropped his note book, pencils and scissors.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?"

"There's nothing else for me to do, so I'm going back to Hogwarts," Harry said trying to pull himself free of Malfoy.

"I don't think so. You're the only one who knows what we're looking for."

"She gave us a list, Malfoy. Look it up." Harry pulled himself loose and stepped away from him. He handed the bag to Pansy, who lifted out the list.

"What ones do we need?" she asked.

"Look through and see what we haven't got," Malfoy suggested. Pansy sorted through the gathered herbs, unwrapping them and checking them against the list. She held out a woody stem to Malfoy, complete with small, white flowers. She lifted them up to smell them, then wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant scent. "What is this? It's making my fingers tingle."
Malfoy gave it a cursory glance. "Mountain ash," he said, before looking back at Harry. "Also known as rowan."

"Rowan?" Pansy screeched, drawing Harry and Draco's immediate attention. "But I'm allergic to rowan. It brings me out in a rash, and I get all blotchy and…" Pansy looked at her hands, already swelling slightly. "Draco, do something!"

"Yes, Draco. Do something," Potter sing-songed.

"What do I look like, a nurse?"

"Maybe you should kiss it better," Harry suggested in a helpful tone.

Draco looked at the swollen fingers, at the starting rash and the small bumps that were appearing. "Kiss those? They look awful. I think they're starting to ooze something." Pansy whimpered. "Look, just go to the nurse or something," he said impatiently.

"Maybe you should go with her, so you can hold her hand."

Pansy looked almost hopeful, before her sense of reality kicked in, helped by Draco's muttered "I'm not going anywhere with her like that." Draco was staring at her hands with something bordering on repulsion and Potter was still wearing that bright, helpful expression. "This is all your fault," she hissed, starting to curl her hands into claws before she realised they were already too swollen. She tried to slap him anyway and felt a small measure of satisfaction as he dodged it, tripped and landed on the wet ground with a thump. She stalked off towards Hogwarts, hands out in front of her.

"Guess it's just you, Malfoy. Good luck finding the snakeroot."

Harry started to walk off, whistling cheerfully when he found himself stopped for the second time by Malfoy, this time grabbing his wrist.

"What is it this time Malfoy? Scared of being alone in the dark woods? Missing your girlfriend already? Sorry, but if you're looking for a substitute, you're just not my type."

"Hardly," Draco spat out. "And what makes you think you're mine?"

"From what I've heard, everybody's your type," Harry said, twisting his wrist out of Draco's grip.

"And from what I've heard, you're nobody's type. And as much as I'd like to explain , in great detail, while you'll never be anybody's type, ever, we have another problem on our hands. Pansy took the list."

"So?"

Draco sighed, and in a slow voice like he was talking to a particularly stupid child, started to explain. "Pansy took the list. On the list was the description of the plants we still had to get. I never saw the list, so I don't know what we have to get or what it looks like. You're the only one here who knows what we need." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you catching my drift, or should I go over it one more time?"

Harry looked disgusted. "You mean we have to stay here and work together to get the plants."

"Bright boy."

"Okay," Harry said, pulling himself together. "I'll find what we need and you pick them. The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish."

"Fine," Draco said as Harry tried to wipe some of the rain off his glasses, "but you're still not sharing my umbrella. What are we looking for now?"

"Selfheal. I saw some nearby." Harry trudged off, not looking back to see if Draco was following him.

"So, where is it?" Draco asked. Harry smiled and pointed to a large mass of brambles.

"I saw some in there."

Draco looked at the brambles. "You have got to be joking," he said. Harry's grin grew wider and he shook his head. Draco crouched down and tried to look through the nettles, one hand still holding the umbrella. If he squinted his eyes he could see a clump of purplish blue flowers. "Are you sure that's selfheal?" he asked, looking back at Harry.

"Hermione made me revise common herbs with her last week. That's definitely selfheal, and the only bunch I've seen so far. Also known as woundwort, heal-all…" he trailed off as he saw Draco reach for his wand. "Can't do that Malfoy, remember what Professor Sprout said. Any magic used to gather the plants will mess up the spell."

"I remember," Draco snapped, lying between his teeth. "I was just going to use it to push the bloody brambles away."

"Even getting your wand that close might make the spell turn out wrong. You'll have to use your umbrella."

Draco reached out a hand, palm up. At least the rain was slowing down a little. He snapped the umbrella shut and used it to try and push a hole through to the selfheal. If he knelt down, and stretched… With a glow of satisfaction, mitigated by several scratches from the thorns, he pulled out a handful of the plant. "Satisfied, Potter? Or maybe there's a bunch of stinging nettles you'd like me to roll in." He glared up at Harry, then stood, uncomfortable with the idea of kneeling down when Harry was standing. He started to brush the dirt off his robe when he noticed Harry was still grinning. "What? Don't tell me stinging nettles are next on the list, because if they are you can bloody well get them yourself."

"That's not it. All we needed apart from the selfheal was some snakeroot and love-lies-bleeding, and the love-lies-bleeding we can get from the garden. There's one small thing I should probably have mentioned." Harry pointed at the rather battered looking bunch of weeds in Malfoy's hand. "All you've got there are the stem and leaves. We needed selfheal root."

For a moment Draco wondered what the consequences would be if he killed Harry. *Not a jury in the land would convict me,* he thought to himself. *At least, not once my father had a word with them. I could bury the body in the woods and it'd be years before anyone found the corpse. If ever.*

"Better get a move on, Malfoy. It's starting to rain again."

Giving up on the pleasant, if murderous, thoughts Draco knelt back down. There was no way he could dig out the roots from here without getting severely scratched. *If I could just get closer,* he thought. *Maybe if I had something to stand on…* Someone had started cutting down trees nearby and one of the logs had been left behind when the rest had been taken away. Malfoy walked over and picked up one end. "Come on. You'll have to get the other end."

"You think I'm going to help you?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"If you want to get the roots, you're going to have to help me carry this. Unless you want me to tell Sprout why we got everything but the selfheal?" Malfoy crossed his arms and glared at him. Eventually Harry picked up the other end of the log and together they managed to throw it against the brambles. Now Draco could stand on this and it got him just close enough to dig out the roots. He straightened up, absurdly pleased to have got the ingredient, and almost fell off the plank into the brambles. He scrambled for balance quickly and managed to get off the log and onto safe ground. He looked around, waiting for Potter to comment on his near-tumble, but Potter didn't seem to have noticed. Instead he was looking out into the forest, head tilted slightly to the side like he was listening to something.

"Can you hear that?" Harry asked.

"Hear what?" Malfoy said. Harry could see him in the corner of his eye looking annoyed, and normally that would have cheered Harry up immediately but right now the whispering, just on the edge of hearing, was getting all his attention.

"That sound," he said impatiently. "Like someone yelling a really long way off. Or maybe a crowd of people whispering together," he struggled to explain it. "A sort of really quiet whispering roar. Come on, you must be able to hear it."

"I think you've been out in the woods too long. There's nothing there except for the rain and…"

"Shh." Harry waved Malfoy into silence, wanting him to shut up so he could concentrate on the sound. It seemed to be getting louder, and now if he listened really, really closely he could make out actual words. In fact it almost sounded like *arghhh, I'm falling, I'm falling, helphelphelphelphelp…*

Draco looked at Harry, standing there concentrating. "You've finally flipped haven't you? One brush with death too many and you're ahhh!!!"

Harry jerked at Malfoy's scream, turning to look at him just in time to see him jump back from a large, diamond-backed snake that had fallen from the sky and landed next to his feet. "What the fuck..?" Malfoy said, jumping back again and then almost tripping over what looked like an anaconda. It hissed threateningly at Malfoy, and to Harry all of the little whispers suddenly became perfectly audible snatches of conversation.

//What's happening? One moment I'm sunning myself on a rock after a nice meal, the next…//
//Where am I? Why does this place smell strange? What happened to my desert?//
//What's this mammal screaming about? If it gets any nearer I'm biting.//

Harry walked over to Malfoy and picked up the small white snake that had been on the verge of injecting him with a venom that, it assured Harry, was instantly fatal to anything smaller than an elephant. Malfoy jerked as he saw the white snake curl around Harry's wrist. Potter said something to it that Draco couldn't understand, and then it hissed a reply.

//There I am, about to get myself a nice little mouthful of rat, when all of a sudden I'm picked up and thrown into a cloud with a lot of other snakes, and it's cold and wet.// The snake shuddered, curling tighter around Harry's wrist. //I am not a water snake, and I hate being wet.//

Harry looked up from the snake to find Malfoy staring at him like he'd grown another head. "It's all right," he said, wondering why he was bothering to explain. "It's just another of those strange rains we've been having."

//And if that wasn't bad enough, there were fish in front of us, and a truck load of alligators behind. Nasty beasts with no conversation and zero personality. Just eat, kill, sleep, eat, kill, sleep.// The white snake added.

Malfoy didn't like the look that crossed Potter's face, and he liked the panicked sound even less. "Um, Malfoy, we really need to get somewhere safe, soon." Harry said, looking around. "How long will it take us to get back to Hogwarts?"

"Twenty minutes, ten if we run. Why, what's happening?"

"That's too long," Harry said, not answering. "There's a cottage near here, Hagrid showed me once. Well, don't just stand there, run!"

Draco followed Harry starting to run without knowing why. "What's happening? Why are we… what the fuck was that?" he yelled as he heard a large thump twenty meters to his right.

"Alligators," Harry yelled, slowing down to let Draco catch up. "We've got about two minutes to get to this cottage before it starts raining ten-foot lizards with a large appetite and sharp teeth. There it is," Harry said with relief, pointing to a small, stone cottage half covered with climbing plants. Draco put on a burst of speed and managed to get there a split second before Harry. They ran in and slammed the heavy door shut. Harry took out his wand and pointed it at one of the windows "Safia blockus," he said and Draco felt a small surge of power. The window flickered as the magical barrier was put in place. He took out his own wand and did the same with the other window.

"We should be safe here," he heard Potter say to him. "Hagrid said it used to belong to an old professor at Hogwarts. She didn't get on well with the other teachers so she built a place in the forest. Why don't you start the fire and I'll see if there's any food left here."

Malfoy's immediate reaction was to refuse on general principle, but Harry had already left the room so he contented himself with muttering under his breath.

He heard Potter come back in from the kitchen and place a small selection of food on the table before sitting. "Here," he said. "It's not much, but these were the only things stored in a conservatio cibariorum spell Everything else is about eight years past it's sell-by date."

Draco sorted through the food. It was a fairly miserable selection- a half-eaten packet of biscuits, two tins of tuna, an unopened jar of peanut butter and a small packet with 'bake-it-yourself home-made bread' on the side. "What's this?" he said, pointing at the last item.

Harry looked at it. "It's do it yourself bread. Just open the packet, say the word on the side and you'll have freshly-baked bread in seconds. I'm surprised you don't know that," he added. "It's magic stuff, so you should."

"If I want food, I get the cook to make it, and rest assured, it's not some cheap pre-made junk, but proper food made from scratch."

"It's nice," Harry protested. "I had it at the Weasleys'."

"Oh, why doesn't that surprise me?" Draco muttered, opening the packet anyway. "Para panem!"

The smell of freshly-baked bread filled the cottage and Malfoy felt his mouth start to water. He grabbed the bread and moved to sit in front of the fire. "Do you know any spells for food?" he asked, kicking off his shoes and putting them next to the fire to dry.

"I could probably manage a pot of tea," Harry said doubtfully. "I don't know, they don't teach us this stuff in school. It's just making things fly or grow wings or turn into needles. You're the one who should have picked up this sort of stuff at home."

"Yeah, well, like I said before, I leave that sort of thing to servants and house-elves," Draco said. He smiled. "I would have thought you'd have learnt those sort of spells."

Harry frowned at the insult, but decided to let it go. There was nothing wrong with learning practical magic and Malfoy would only be smug at having scored a reaction out of him. Malfoy had already taken the best spot, right in front of the fire, and already looked warm and dry. Unlike Harry, he'd only been a little damp to start with, and now he was almost completely dry.

Draco heard Potter go back into the kitchen and felt a twinge of disappointment at his lack of reaction, but only a small one. Overall he was in too good a mood to work up anything more than mild annoyance. He was warm, dry and no longer hungry, and feeling even better because Potter was soaking wet, shivering and deluded if he thought he was getting his hands on any of Malfoy's bread. He was just in the process of stretching out some more when he heard the sound of someone hitting his head coming from the kitchen.

Harry walked into the main room of the cabin, rubbing the back of his head and holding a glass bottle. He'd pushed up the sleeves of his jumper, but the sleeves of the robe underneath had fallen down were dripping on the floor. The robe was of good quality, though soaking wet, but the jumper… Malfoy fought the urge to wince. *That jumper had to be a gift,* Malfoy thought to himself. *No-one would choose to wear something like that.* The only thing in it's favour was the water repelling spells that had obviously been worked into the fabric and still kept the jumper dry, even with the robes underneath soaking wet. Potter seemed oblivious to his wet clothes, concentrating on the glass bottle.

"What did you find? Transport potion, instant dinner, alligator-repellant?" Malfoy asked lazily.

"Huh? No, nothing like that," Harry said smiling. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. It was unusual to have that smile directed at him. Normally he'd only seen it at a distance. He shook his head and drew his attention back to Potter.

"So if it doesn't get us out of here, or at least more comfortable, why are you smiling?" Draco leaned back on his elbows.

"If we have enough of this, we're not going to worry about any of that. I think I've found where Hagrid hides his home-made brew."

Malfoy sat up, rather more attentively. "I've heard of that. Snape'd give his second-best cauldron to know what was in it."

Harry sat down next to Malfoy. "Move up," he said, holding the bottle out of reach. Malfoy made a little more space in front of the fire for the other boy before leaning across Harry, grabbing the bottle twisting the lid off and taking a swig. He choked immediately. "What's in that?" he said, looking at the bottle with a bit more respect before passing it back to Harry.

"Dunno," Harry said, taking a more cautious sip. "Hagrid says he'll tell me when I graduate Hogwarts. He said I shouldn't even drink this stuff still I'm thirty."

Malfoy snatched the bottle back and took another large swallow. The faintly herbal, faintly fruity, possibly toxic liqueur went down more easily this time. He sighed in appreciation. Now, this was better. Food, drink, shelter, warmth… He sighed again and wondered what Pansy was doing.

"You'd think it'd at least stop raining water when it starts raining other things," Harry muttered, trying to wipe his glasses dry on his sleeve. Malfoy sniggered and Harry turned to look at him. "What's so funny?"

"You. You're drenched, Potter," Malfoy said, putting down the bottle he was holding. Harry's robe was stuck to his skin. Malfoy took a section of the sleeve fastidiously between thumb and index finger and pulled it away from Harry's skin. It detached with an audible sound, turning opaque where it was no longer touching the skin. Harry shivered.

Malfoy leaned back and tried to observe him dispassionately. Dark hair, sticking to his scalp in clumps. If the meaning of the scar wasn't known it would probably be seen as a flaw, something marring the face. Or maybe not. It wasn't really deforming; perhaps a stranger would see it as giving character, a small imperfection that made the whole better in comparison. The eyes were barely visible behind the glasses, already misting up in the cabin. His face was thin, and he looked pale and in need of desperate nurturing, shivering in the oversized jumper, even as something about the way he held himself suggested that he didn't need anyone. He could look after himself, and he was used to not relying on anyone else for comfort or security.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry asked defensively. He wrapped his arms around himself, either for protection or warmth, Draco couldn't tell.

Draco smirked. "You look like a street urchin," he said. "If someone saw you in the street they'd either throw you money for charity or try and make you earn it." Harry frowned, not understanding. "Payment for services rendered?" Malfoy added in explanation. Harry looked blank for a moment, then flushed in understanding.

"Pervert," Harry muttered, staring at the floor and avoiding Malfoy's gaze.

"I didn't say *I* would. Like I said before, you're not my type," Draco said, leaning back against the wall. That last statement wasn't entirely true, he mused, not when Potter looked like this. Something about him was sending 'someone I can take advantage of' signals to the back part of Draco's brain, fighting with the 'someone to watch out for' signals. A strange combination of vulnerable and dangerous, and part of Draco couldn't help remembering that Potter had seen nasty and powerful magic up close, had used it to defend himself. *He saw the avada curse in action,* Draco thought. *He could probably work it from memory, if he wanted.* That last thought sent a not-unpleasant shiver down his back.

"Look, we're going to be stuck here at least until the rain stops and they've sent the alligators back to where they came from, so maybe for once we should try to not wind each other up," Harry said. "I'm not looking forward to being trapped here with you…"

"Rest assured, Potter, you are not on my top-ten list of people to be trapped in a cabin with." Malfoy interrupted. "Frankly, you don't even make the top one hundred."

"So there's no point making this any harder then it has to be," Harry went on, ignoring Draco's interruption. "Truce? Until we get out of here at least?"

"Play nice?" Draco said, his tone indicating that he couldn't think of anything more unlikely.

Harry shrugged. "I think that's a bit beyond us. How about we just try to ignore each other?" He took Malfoy's silence as assent and turned slightly away from Malfoy and pulled off his jumper. He chucked it to one side and started undoing his robe. Malfoy sat up, suddenly paying attention. *He's stripping?*

Harry undid the buttons on his robe, trying to ignore Malfoy's presence. He'd never get warm if he kept his robe on, and he still had his jeans on underneath… He shrugged out of the sleeves of the robe and spread it out on the back of a chair behind him to dry.

"Is that as far as you're going?" Malfoy asked, pleased at the calm note in his voice. Potter still had his back to him and Malfoy took the opportunity to look over his rival. He'd never be bulky, and in most clothes 'thin' would be the word that sprang to mind, but underneath them he looked surprisingly fit. *All that Quidditch,* Malfoy thought approvingly, eyes following the lines of his back. No fat, and an almost economical build with nothing put to waste and no deliberate building up, just nicely muscled back and arms. With a definite twinge of regret, he saw Potter put the dry jumper back on.

"I'm not bloody well taking off my jeans while you're here," Harry muttered under his breath. While there were few things in life as uncomfortable as wearing wet jeans, the idea of taking them of in front of Malfoy was just too… disturbing.

"Shy?" He didn't need to look at Malfoy to know he was smirking. "I could read a lot into this self-consciousness, you know."

"Maybe you shouldn't have had so much of that drink," Harry said. "I think you're starting to get me and Pansy mixed up."

"Not likely," Draco said, looking Harry over slowly. He'd stretched his legs out closer to the fire to try and get the jeans to dry more quickly and was staring into the fire, deliberately avoiding Draco's gaze. "She wouldn't have quibbled about keeping her jeans on."

Harry swallowed the comment that was just dying to get out, and instead took off his shoes and socks and put them in front of the fire to dry. It was almost companionable now; the usual feud with Malfoy was damped down to not-quite friendly rivalry. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and listened to the rain tapping on the roof. It was a soothing noise, soporific, and he was just starting to wonder whether they'd have to spend the night here when he felt Malfoy stiffen and then swear. He opened his eyes and saw the white snake slithering towards the side of the fireplace.

"You brought that in here?" Malfoy asked. Harry smirked at the note of repulsion in his voice and deliberately closed his eyes.

"Relax, you're too big for her to eat, even if she was hungry," he said in a casual tone designed to annoy Malfoy. "She's harmless."

Draco looked at the white snake, now curling up near the pile of firewood. "It's not poisonous," he said, relaxing slightly.

"Actually, she says she's very venomous, although a lot of snakes lie about that," Harry said, trying not to grin as he felt Draco jump slightly at his words. "I just meant she's not dangerous. If you don't bother her, she won't bother you."

"Fine, just tell it to stay away from me. If it so much as hisses, I'm turning it into a handbag," Draco said, moving away from the snake.

Eyes still closed, Harry felt Draco move closer to him and away from the snake. He felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with getting one up on the boy sitting next to him. *Draco Malfoy, scared of snakes,* he thought to himself. *Oh, Ron's gonna love hearing about this.*

Draco glared at Harry, correctly guessing the thoughts going through his head. The warm, lazy feeling brought on by equal parts alcohol and atmosphere had vanished. He picked up the bottle, contemplated smashing it on Potter's head, just to get a reaction, then decided it'd be a waste of good booze and took another swig instead. He felt restless, reckless, in one of those moods where he wanted to stir up trouble, just to make something happen. "If Pansy was here, she'd help burn off some of this nervous energy," he said out loud.

Harry opened his eyes. "What?"

Draco looked down at him. "Did I say that aloud?" He shrugged. "Guess I did. You know, of all the people to get stuck here with, you've got to be the worst. When I think of all the people I could be stuck here with…" He started going through a list of names, counting them off on his fingers. "Heather, Jeremy, Lillian, Fleur Delacoeur, Pansy, Stephan…"

"Stephan Spencer? From Hufflepuff?" Harry said, interrupting Draco. "That's… I wouldn't have thought he was your type."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And you've given much thought to what sort of person I'd find attractive?" he asked, pleased to see Harry get flustered. *Hmm, I wonder what it'd take to make him blush.*

"Well, no, but…" Harry trailed off. "I just didn't think you liked him."

Draco shrugged, disappointed that Harry had recovered from his earlier embarrassment. "I don't. I just said that I'd prefer being stuck here with him than you. Nothing personal, for once." He half closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows. A dim memory drifted through his mind of Pansy telling him this was one of his best poses. He smiled to himself, then realised Harry had said something. "What?"

"I said, if it's not personal, what is it?" Harry repeated, wondering why he was bothering to ask when Draco would no doubt come up with some reason that was either insulting, embarrassing or both.

"Hmm? Oh, Stephan." Draco widened his smile. "It's nothing really. There's just something about him that makes you think you could get away with anything." He waited for a moment, then heard Harry's muttered 'pervert'. He opened his eyes just enough to see that Harry was blushing slightly. "What, you don't see it? I admit, he's not as obvious as, say, Pansy for example, not as attractive either. Still if you're looking for someone to…" he trailed off deliberately. "Oh sorry," he said insincerely. "Am I embarrassing you? I know some people can be terribly repressed about this. It's not good for you, you know."

"Look, can we just change the subject?" Harry said, angry at getting embarrassed.

Draco knocked back another shot of Hagrid's brew. It really did get better the more you had of it.

"I'm not repressed!" Harry yelled out. "You've been saying that since the fifth year, and I'm not! I just don't feel comfortable with you telling me the names of the people you'd…" there was a pause where Draco could almost hear Harry's brain ticking over possible euphemisms for 'have sex with' before he settled on "Telling me that you'd try and take of advantage of Stephen Spencer, of all people, if he was here and I wasn't." he'd calmed down a bit by the end of his rant. "And I know you're only going into this to try and embarrass me or something, and well, it's worked a bit, so you can stop now. 'Cause if you don't I will personally tell Pansy that she only came fifth on the list of people you'd rather be stuck here with." He said the last with a half-smile, watching Draco wince as he imagined the effect that little bit of information would have on her.

"You tell her that and I'll deny it," Draco said.

Harry raised an eyebrow in a picture-perfect imitation of Draco. "You really think she'd believe you over me? You've not exactly got a reputation for honesty."

"It's not that there's anything wrong with her," Draco said after a moment. "It's just that, well, been there, done that. And she's not really the sort of person you could use the atmosphere to take advantage of. More the sort of person you'd have to fight off with two wands and a broom stick."

"And I'm sure she'd view that as a good reason for ranking her fifth," Harry said dryly. He gestured for the bottle.

"Here, take another swig of this," Draco said, passing it to Harry. "Hopefully you'll get drunk and want me to take advantage of you, or at least too drunk to stop me."

To his surprise he saw Harry stifle a grin before grabbing the bottle. "Yeah, and before that happens you'd be too drunk to manage anything even if you wanted to."

"Is that a dare?" Malfoy asked. He saw Potter give him a quick, worried glance. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

And if he hadn't been here already, Draco mused, where would Potter be on that list? It probably wasn't a good idea to start thinking about Potter-fantasies when he was trapped in a cabin with him, Draco thought, but it was hard to avoid thinking about them when he was right there, and Draco was fast approaching what he called affectionate and Pansy called drunk and horny. He frowned. Come to think of it, he was in just that mood when she convinced him to go steady.

*Pansy,* Draco thought. *I should be thinking of her. Maybe her and Fleur. Or maybe just Fleur. Anyone but Potter. Sleeping with Snape would have less consequences than sleeping with Potter,* he added mentally, not noticing that he'd moved on from thinking about thinking about to thinking about doing. Pansy was simple, he thought. Uncomplicated, potentially useful, ambitious and intelligent, but not dangerously so. She fitted into his world like she'd been born there, which she actually had. Their parents had been mutual acquaintances and allies for decades.

Draco had rolled up his sleeves neatly to above the elbow and now he could feel the itchy wool of Harry's jumper against one arm. On the other hand, Potter was here , and while screwing him would undoubtedly have complications Pansy would not, the undeniable fact was that she was back at Hogwarts and Potter was here, attractive and most of all accessible. It wasn't like he'd never thought of it before, in a vague wonder-what-it'd-be-like way, and occasional not-so-vague late night and early morning fantasies. And now he was here, in a set up primed for seduction, or at least a little fooling around, if only Draco could convince him…

Harry stifled a yawn and put another log on to the fire. He was only dimly aware of his surroundings, hypnotised by the movement of the flames. He could feel the weight of the other boy against his side where they were both trying to get the best place in front of the fire. Harry was staring into the fire, lost in thought, and it was several seconds before he realised Draco was staring at him. "What?" he asked, surprised to find Draco so close.

"Shut up," Draco said, frowning in concentration. Slowly, with the deliberate movement of the decidedly tipsy, he raised one hand so it skirted Harry's face. He brushed the fringe away from Harry's scar.

"Malfoy, what're you…" Harry said, starting to move away. "Leave it," he said, jerking his head away from the touch.

Draco nodded once and dropped his hand. Harry would have relaxed, except Malfoy was wearing that same, concentrating expression. He looked like he was trying to decide something, and before Harry could ask what it was, he said "Oh, what the hell," leaned forwards and kissed Harry. For a few seconds Harry's thought process could be summed up in the word 'Huh?' before the little voice screaming that he was being kissed by Malfoy managed to get itself heard. He pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Malfoy leaned back, managing to look satisfied and hungry at the same time. "Well, that wasn't entirely disappointing," he murmured.

"Malfoy, I'm telling you, if you lay one finger on me it'll be the furnunculus curse again," Harry said, moving away from the other boy until his retreat was stopped by the back of the chair he'd laid his robe on to dry only minutes before.

"Don't you think that'd be a bit of an overreaction?" Malfoy said. "It's only a kiss."

"Come on, I thought you agreed to, to…" Harry stuttered as Malfoy crawled over to him, predator grin on his face. "To at least act like a normal person for once."

"This is how I act when I'm being sociable." Malfoy smiled, knowing it was one of his best efforts. He trailed his fingers over Harry's neck, feeling him shiver in response. "If you really want me to stop, just say so."

"I really want you to stop," Harry said unconvincingly.

"Liar." Draco leaned over Harry, one hand braced against the chair next to Harry's face.

"You're only doing this to get a reaction," Harry said.

"Well, yes," Malfoy said. "I'd prefer it if you reacted, but if you want, you can just lie back and think of Gryffindor." He leaned over Harry again and kissed him, slowly. When he pulled away he could see himself reflected in Harry's glasses, and behind him, the fire. Frowning he took them off and watched Harry blink twice, trying to focus. Without the protective layer of glass his eyes seemed more vivid.

"I don't," Harry swallowed, then started again. "I don't believe you. You've got some reason for doing this."

"You want a reason? Try this: I'm bored and you're here." He leaned closer to Harry. "Potter-baiting is my usual form of entertainment, but I agree that right now we should probably do something else to pass the time."

"Then magic up a pack of cards and we can play snap!" Harry said, pushing Draco's hand away from his neck. "You don't even like me, and I have no intention of being the next name you write on the wall of the Slytherin's bathroom." He knocked Draco's hand away again. "And if Ron or Hermione found out…" he shuddered.

"How would they find out?" Draco upped his smile another notch. "I promise I won't tell if you don't."

"That's not the point!"

"Fine then." Draco sat back on his heels in a quick, sudden movement. "I've got better things to do then reassure trembling virgins all night."

"I'm not a vir-" Harry began before Draco cut him off with an impatient wave.

"In that case you're either too straight, too sober or too scared to do something you really want to mmf." And Draco found that the nice little rant he was working himself up to was being stopped before it ever left his mouth, swallowed up whole by the very person it was directed at. *Well, of course,* he thought, a little dizzily. *Forget coaxing, nothing like a flat out attack to your pride to get a reaction. And such a nice reaction, too.*

It was a moment before Harry realised what he'd done, what he was doing, and by then he already had his hand up Draco's shirt and the fact that it was an incredibly stupid thing to do seemed, well, irrelevant compared to the feel of Draco's mouth under his, the taste and texture and movement of it. And Draco didn't object when Harry started unbuttoning his robe, or when he pushed him back against the floor. In fact, he seemed rather enthusiastic about the whole nudity issue, offering helping hands that only got in the way until finally, frustrated, Harry pinned both wrists in one hand and finished off the buttons by himself, tearing off the last few.

Draco contemplated, briefly, pointing out to Potter that he didn't need to pin him down like this. Draco was the one trying to coax Harry into sex, he wasn't likely to change his mind at this point. On the other hand, it was rather nice, being held. Not even held especially tight, but firmly, with just enough pressure to make him aware of the potential strength held under the skin. Besides, Draco had the nagging suspicion that if said anything, if he gave Potter time to think, Potter would realise what he was doing and stop. And besides, he had no intention on using his mouth for anything as mundane as talking.

Draco tried to remember the last time he'd felt this hungry, this desperate. *This is probably the only time you'll ever get the chance to do this,* he said, trying to justify it. *Of course it's going to be a bit intense.*

Harry pulled away, slowly, in stages. Draco felt a moment of panic at the sudden loss of pressure, only slightly reassured when he realised Harry wasn't actually moving away, just sitting up to pull off his jumper, leaving Draco hoping that tomorrow he'd still be able to remember details, like the snapshot moment when Harry tugged his jumper off impatiently and looked at Draco with an expression of determined desire, not that far from his expression when going after the Snitch. His jeans were still damp and stuck to his skin, and under other circumstances Draco would have appreciated the sight, but right now they were an annoying distraction, and he silently promised to chuck them in the fire at the first possible opportunity.

"Potter, why don't you…" Draco groaned, tugging at the jeans. Harry frowned.

"Don't say anything, Malfoy," Harry said, and then, apparently not trusting Malfoy to keep quiet, kissed him again. "Just keep quiet and let me concentrate," he said a moment later, putting his hand over Draco's mouth. Draco nodded, and saw Harry's eyes lighten. "Good."

*If anyone had asked me what sex with Harry Potter would be like, it wouldn't have been anything like this,* Draco thought in a disorientated haze. *Come to think of it, Pansy did ask me, a number of times. Guess we were both wrong then.* Potter was, not rough, but determined, hands and mouth and body everywhere, moving with confidence as though someone had given him a schematic of Draco's body ten minutes before, and he was just following the helpful instructions. Although his hands were now free, Draco was still kept mostly immobile, feeling like he should contribute more to the encounter, but just not yet, not when Potter was doing such a great job all by himself.

And then Harry moved down to his waist, tugging off Draco's jeans and underwear, and Draco decided that maybe it wasn't necessary for him to do anything at all. Something he'd said earlier drifted through his mind and he smiled. *Just lie back and think of Slytherin… This is not how I expected it to go.* He had the sudden notion that Harry was doing the same thing in reverse, blocking out thought with action like Draco was blocking out thought with sensation. That last idea wasn't entirely pleasant. Draco put it aside and promised to think about why later, after, because right now was precisely the wrong time for rational thought. He must have been talking again, or saying something, because Harry was using the tried and tested 'kiss' method of keeping him quiet. The kiss, combined with Harry's hands, the feel of weight and heat above him seemed at this moment to be more intense than 99% of Draco's life to date.

Harry's mouth pressed harder, and he bit down on Draco's lip. Draco knew with bone-deep certainty that it would be over in seconds for both of them. He felt Harry's body tense and his final thought before his mind dissolved was a wistful *But we didn't get to do half the stuff I wanted…*

~.~.~

Something sharp dug into his back. It was painful, but the idea of moving just yet seemed ridiculous. He was lying too close to the fire, half of him baking hot and the other half kept pleasantly warm by another's body-heat. The position wasn't entirely comfortable, but he felt too lazy to actually move.

Now he'd noticed it, the thing the was lying on was getting more and more painful, apathy warring with discomfort until with a defeated sigh he sat up and reached behind him, picking up Harry's glasses. He passed them over to Harry. "I think they're a bit squashed."

Harry fiddled with the arms, bending one roughly back into place. "I think they're all right," he said. Both of them spoke quietly. Malfoy could hear the rain starting again, faint drizzle against the windows. He watched Harry's face as he put the glasses back on, wondering vaguely why he didn't feel more awkward. His eyes were the only familiar, unchanged thing about him. Harry's eyes were back behind the familiar frame of glasses, clear and sharp and clothed. There seemed to be a world of difference between the way Harry looked with his glasses on and off, Draco mused. Off, and his face seemed exposed, naked. On, and he snapped back into place, not exactly relaxed, but more sure. His hair was mussed, Draco could see the beginnings of bruises on his arms and he showed no sign of getting dressed. Draco was hit, suddenly, by the strangeness of the situation. It seemed unreal, like a hallucination caused by Hagrid's drink. Of the many people who'd want to see Harry like this, people who knew him and people just struck by the idea of the famous Harry Potter, it seemed bizarre to find himself here.

"I know people who'd give a small fortune to see you like this," Draco said out loud, regretting it a moment later. Strange as the moment was, he didn't want to break it back into their usual hostility. To his surprise, Harry didn't say anything, just looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded."

Harry looked up and Draco realised he was wrong about his eyes looking the same. The glasses, though slightly battered, still had the same effect as usual, acting as a frame even as they dulled the green. Draco searched for a moment, trying to find what was different about them, before he realised it wasn't something new there so much as the lack of something. The usual mixture of hostility, defensiveness and anger was gone. "You know, I think that's the first time you've ever apologised to me. Sincerely, I mean."

Draco shrugged. "I'm not going to make a habit of it."

Harry smiled, his eyes meeting Draco's for the first time, before flickering down over Draco's body. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. Draco glanced around for Hagrid's bottle and saw it knocked over and nearly empty. He grabbed it anyway, taking half a sip and passing it to Harry to finish off. "You know, my mother once gave me a piece of advice about situations like this," Draco said, carefully avoiding looking at Harry directly.

Harry knocked back the rest of the drink. "Really?" he said in disbelief.

"Yeah." Draco faced Harry, forcing him to look at him. Harry looked embarrassed, guilty, but underneath that was the spark Draco was looking for. "She says, if you're going to fuck up, you might as well fuck up big. Although not in those exact words, of course." Harry's eyes widened, and Draco, who thought about the wisdom of taking your enemy by surprise, bent his head and kissed Harry

He let himself linger in the kiss this time. Before he'd been distracted, too caught up in anticipation of what came next. Now, with the edge taken off his initial hunger, he wanted to savour the kiss. By the time the kiss ended, he would have sworn he could give a pretty good description of Harry's dental records, and be able to identify him by his tongue alone. It was strangely intense and he didn't realise until Harry broke the kiss that he'd closed his eyes.

"Um, do you think you could keep you eyes open next time?" Harry said, embarrassed. Draco stared at him. "You closed them last time and I just…" He trailed off. "Never mind." He muttered, moving back to kiss Draco.

A list of things to say crossed Draco's mind, starting with 'We just had sex and asking me to keep my eyes open embarrasses you?' and 'Bossy as hell, aren't you'. In the end he settled on "Only if you take your glasses off" because it was unnerving to see something as familiar as the glasses and the focussed gaze behind them in such a strange situation. Better to take them off, keep this as far from real life as possible. This way it was almost possible to pretend that this was a moment out of time and that all of the regrets and recriminations could be ignored. Harry's mouth travelled down his neck, biting softly at the pulse, before moving along his collarbone. Draco shivered and decided to leave all the morning-after worries until the morning.

~.~.~

The ringing woke Harry up. He groaned and rolled over, hoping that someone else would answer the phone. He frowned at that last thought. *Wait a second, they don't have phones at Hogwarts…* Next to him someone stirred and after a moment he heard a familiar voice. "Someone bloody get that message spell!" Malfoy said.

Wait a second, what was Malfoy doing lying next to…. Harry sat up in shock as he remembered what happened. *Oh no, oh no, I didn't, I couldn't have…* He said to himself, rubbing his eyes. He turned to look at the boy next to him. "Oh, fuck, I really did."

"Huh?" Draco muttered, cracking open an eye and staring up at Harry. Harry could almost see the same train of thought go through Malfoy's head that went through his own seconds earlier, before it was followed by an identical "Oh fuck." Harry stood up and started frantically looking for his clothes.

Malfoy sat up far more cautiously, rubbing at his temples. "What does Hagrid put in that stuff?" he muttered. The message spell's ringing grew louder and more penetrating and Malfoy winced at the sound. "Get that, Potter," he said.

"What? Why me?" Harry asked, pulling on his jumper. Jeans, jeans, they had to be here somewhere…

"You're more dressed," Malfoy said. Harry looked at him and then quickly looked away, blushing. "Forget about the jeans, it's probably just a sound spell anyway."

Harry looked around for the source of the noise. A small glass ball on the mantelpiece was glowing in time with the ringing. He picked it up and the ringing stopped. "Um, this is Harry Potter," he said awkwardly

"Harry, thank God," he heard Professor McGonagoll say with honest relief. "Is Malfoy with you? Are you both safe?"

"Ye… yes, he's here," Harry said. "And we're both good. Safe, I mean. We got to the cottage before the alligators started falling, so we weren't hurt or anything."

He heard a sigh of relief, then Hagrid's voice in the background asking to talk to Harry, then a brief scuffle for control of the message ball, which must have been won by Dumbledore since his was the next voice Harry heard. "We've started returning the alligators to wherever they were before they got caught up in the rain, but we won't be finished for an hour. We'll send another message when it's safe for you to return to Hogwarts. Try and stay alive until then."

Harry put down the message ball and reluctantly turned to face Draco "They're going to be done in about an hour," he said, wondering why Draco seemed less naked without his clothes than he felt semi-dressed.

"I heard." Draco looked around the cottage, wincing. "Maybe we should clear the place up a bit. It looks like…" he trailed off. "Anybody who sees this is going to think we spent the entire night screwing like stoats in heat."

Harry nodded, and tried not to point out that anyone who thought that would be right. He saw Malfoy stare at him with an odd look on his face. "What?" he asked defensively.

Malfoy smirked. "Just thinking. You know, forget the place being a give away, anyone who sees you…" he laughed. "You look like you were locked in a closet with a gang of veelas," he added, a smug note entering his voice.

"I'll look normal when I'm dressed," Harry said, realising a moment after he said it how stupid it sounded. "And you don't need to sound so smug about it. You don't look much better."

"Yes, but you've got this ravished virgin look," Malfoy said, grinning.

"For the last time, I'm not a virgin."

"Not now, anyway," Draco said. "You might want to tidy yourself up a bit before they get here."

"At least I'm not going to have to explain that to my girlfriend," Harry said, pointing at something on Draco's neck. Draco stopped smiling and put a hand up to his neck. He grabbed his robe and shoved his arms in the sleeves, doing up some of the buttons and giving up when he realised half the buttons had come off.

"This was a mistake."

"Finally, something we can both agree on," Draco muttered. He stood up, then swayed. Harry automatically moved forwards to steady him, holding his arm 'til he got his balance. "Sleeping with you is the second biggest mistake I've made in my entire life."

"What's the first," Harry asked, not sure whether to be insulted or relieved.

"Drinking that rot-gut of Hagrid's." Draco rubbed his temples and gave a rather theatrical moan before looking at Harry. "I don't need to say that what happened will never happen again, and in fact, didn't happen before, and I will deny any statement to the contrary."

"Agreed," Harry said with relief. "If anyone asks, we just… played scrabble or something."

"Fine," Malfoy nodded in agreement, then groaned as his head started spinning again. "By the way, I won."

"Huh?"

"Scrabble," Malfoy said. "I won. In case anyone asks."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, like anyone's going to believe you beat me at anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco said, stiffening slightly.

Harry shrugged. "Just that, when was the last time you beat me at anything important."

It was a relief to fall back on their usual pattern of interaction. Draco would have smiled, if he wasn't so annoyed at Potter for having got the first point. "Try last week, at the potion contest."

"First off, Snape was judging so it doesn't count, and second, you might have done better than me, but you still didn't win. Hermione did. You need to do something about your robe."

Draco blinked at the non sequitur, then looked down. He stared pointedly at Harry's hand, still holding his arm. Harry dropped it as though it had suddenly turned into a blast-ended skrewt. "It's all your fault," Draco said. "If you hadn't been so impatient you tore off half the damn…"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that," Harry said. He walked over to the table and picked up his wand. He waved it in Draco's direction. Draco fought the instinctive urge to get his own wand, or at least duck, as Harry muttered the words "purgato et reparato". He felt a slight twinge of magic, and when he looked down again his robe was clean and tidy. Even the buttons had been mended. "Ron's mum told me the spell," Harry said.

"Shouldn't be surprised," Draco said. "It seems about your level."

Harry shot him a look, then repeated the spell on himself. "It doesn't matter so much what you tell your friends. Most people will just assume you're making it up to make yourself look better. I've got to think up something to tell Ron and Hermione, not to mention Sean and Neville and the rest of Gryffindor."
Harry said

Draco crossed his arms. "I've got a reputation to maintain. I have certain standards to live up to, which don't include spending quality time with self-righteous muggle-lovers like you. Nobody's going to believe I spent all night with you and didn't try something."

Harry sniggered.

"Try something like a curse," Malfoy clarified. "Really Potter, is that all you think about? Most people do not think of sex when they think of us. Well, apart from Pansy and she's a little…"

"Your girlfriend thinks of us having sex?" Harry said. "That's something I really could have lived without knowing. In fact, everything from the past twelve hours is something I could have lived without knowing."

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "My point is, people are going to believe what they want anyway. Pansy won't really believe we had sex, but she'll try and think it anyway. The teachers won't believe it when we say we acted like perfect Hogwarts students, but they'll pretend to because they won't have any proof that we spent the night trying to kill each other." He shrugged. "It just needs to be remotely believable. You can tell your friends I tried to curse you and failed. I'll tell my friends something equally believable. I humiliated you utterly with my superior magic, and if it wasn't for me you would have been eaten by alligators. Of course, they'll wonder why I bothered to save you at all, but frankly, it's a lot more believable than…"

"Than telling them that you got drunk and jumped me?" Harry said

Malfoy glared at him. "At least I was drunk. What's your excuse?"

Harry put a hand to the back of his head and felt the goose-egg bump there. "Concussion," he said firmly, not looking at Malfoy. "From when I banged my head in the kitchen. Everyone knows people act strange when they're concussed."

"That's it? One measly bump on the head is your excuse?" Draco said in disgust. "What I drank would have made McGonagall dance on the table in the main hall. You just bumped your head on a shelf."

"Concussion can make people act completely out of character!" Harry said. "Normally I'd never…" he blushed, and in spite of himself Draco found it strangely appealing, up until the point where Harry glared at him and said. "Not with you anyway. I have some standards."

"And I'm sure I exceeded everyone of them," Draco spat out. "But none of this matters, because last night never happened. Now why don't we just clean this place up, have a little breakfast and wait to be rescued."

There was a moment of silence, then Harry coughed and looked slightly sheepish. "Um, early this morning…"

"And early this morning never bloody happened either," Draco yelled.

"Early this morning, when I woke up, I finished off the bread," Harry said with the deliberately blank face people get when they're trying not to laugh. "So breakfast might be bit small. That's all I wanted to say. Nothing about the other stuff."

"Oh." Draco turned around and busied himself getting the rest of clothes on. It was bad enough that last night (and early this morning, his subconscious reminded him) had actually happened, it wouldn't do to actually think about it. Just chalk it up as one momentary lapse of judgement (repeated a number of times) and leave it as that. He nodded to himself, glad that he'd straightened it out in his mind and turned around to ask Harry how long they had 'til the others came, only to stop, frozen.

Potter had apparently realised the difficulty in putting on his robe over his jumper, so he'd taken it off again before slipping the robe on over his shoulders. Draco watched Harry's fingers do up the buttons. His head was bent down and his hair covered his face, sticking up in strange directions, which wouldn't be at all appealing, except Draco remembered how it had got so messy, and the feel of it, texture and…

Harry realised halfway through that he'd some of the buttons in the wrong holes. He frowned and started redoing them. He heard the other boy make a sound and looked up to find Draco moving to the window, looking slightly flushed and avoiding Harry's gaze. *What's wrong with him,* Harry thought. *Well, not much judging by last... no! You're not going to think about that, remember? Like Dra… Malfoy said, it never happened. Now, where are my jeans?*

*Not a good start,* Draco told himself as he looked out of the window, keeping his back to Potter. *Ignoring what happened is going to be a bit difficult if I keep on ogling him. It's just going to take a little readjustment and Potter can go back into the enemy/rival category.* He heard Potter move about, muttering something under his breath.

"Jeans, jeans, jeans," Harry said to himself, lifting up cushions and pushing back chairs. "They have to be here somewhere." He paused in front of the mirror and tried to flatten his hair down. Never tidy, it now looked like a pair of field mice had decided to build a nest in it. He combed it through with his fingers, decided it might look bad but no worse than usual, and went back to looking for his jeans. For the first time ever he was grateful for the wizard's robe. It might be hot in summer and draughty in winter, it might get tangled around your legs when you were running and the sleeves dragged into your cauldron in potions and your food at dinner, but at least no-one could see what you wore, or in this case, didn't wear, under it. There were a number of jokes about that.

"What are you looking for?" Malfoy's voice sounded bored, and utterly normal, and Harry was torn between pique and respect that Malfoy had managed to put himself together so quickly.

Harry didn't turn around at Malfoy's question, concentrating on his search. "My jeans. I can't find them anywhere."

"Well, where did you have them la…" Malfoy's perfectly reasonable voice stopped dead.

Harry smiled, pleased that Malfoy was having at least some trouble not thinking about last night. "The last time I remember having them was during that time that I'm trying to forget," he said. "That makes it a little hard to figure out where I put them." He turned and smiled angelically at Malfoy, feeling a little boost at Malfoy's pale, slightly embarrassed, expression. Good. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one having difficulty dealing with last night. He glanced around at the floor again, trying to think of all the places his jeans might be.

"What the…?" Draco winced at Harry's surprised yell. Harry stood up, holding something that looked blackened and slightly charred. "How the hell did my jeans get in the fire place?" He said, checking the damage to them. He looked up to find Draco staring at the jeans almost guiltily.

Draco stifled his instinctive wince at the sight of the jeans, and he honestly couldn't tell if he was wincing because he'd thrown them into the fire, or wincing because they survived. And now Potter was looking at him, and if Draco didn't say something soon, Harry might start to make the connection between the state of his jeans now and Draco's frustrated criticism of them last night. *Well, the best form of defence is offence,* Draco thought and took a deep breath. "You must have kicked them there when we…"

"Shut up!" Harry said, blushing. He pushed his glasses up, leaving a sooty smudge on the side of his face. He took a deep breath and tried to conquer his embarrassment. "I don't think they're that bad," he said out loud. "They were still pretty damp, so I guess they didn't burn too well. Huh? Did you say something" He said, looking at Draco.

"No," Draco said, denying the involuntary 'Damn' that had slipped past his lips. "What would I have to say to you?" He flushed and wondered why his ability to lie convincingly disappeared when he needed it most. Hopefully, Potter's own embarrassment over the situation would stop him asking any awkward questions, because Draco knew that if Harry did, the next word's out of his mouth be "Yes, I admit it, I did it! And I'd do it again!" He bit his lip to stop himself offering unasked for explanations.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and went back to staring at the jeans. Maybe a good repair spell, something stronger than the usual fix and clean… He pictured himself asking Hermione for help looking up repair spells on jeans, then pictured her asking how his jeans got burned in the first place. *Well, I think I must have kicked them into the fire, but I can't really remember since I was a little distracted at the time because Draco, yes, that Draco, was trying to…* He shuddered at the thought and tried to think of some remotely believable explanation. He was still thinking when the message ball rang, thirty minutes later, telling them that it was safe to return to Hogwarts.

Epilogue- Draco's room.

"So…" Pansy said to Draco's back as he searched his desk for his missing Transformations homework.

"So…?" Draco said without turning around.

"So, did you have fun while I was gone?" Pansy sighed and fell back on the bed, one hand clasped to her chest as she mock-swooned. "All alone in the deep dark woods with Harry Potter… Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Me and that goody-two-shoes, muggle-lover? You really think I have so low standards?" Draco asked. He found his notebook, put it on top of his bag and straightened up before turning to face her. "After all, I'm with you aren't I?"

Pansy let that purposefully ambiguous statement go by with a dismissive flick of her fingers. "Leaving aside your personal tastes, I'd think you're just too pragmatic to let an opportunity slip by."

"Pragmatic isn't the issue, appearance is. You'd think with the amount of money he has, he'd manage to dress a bit better," he said with a bit too much emotion.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at the comment. Draco thought, uncharitably, that the expression looked much better on him. "Bad clothes aside, you can't deny that he was appealing. Something about the way he was kneeling there, soaked to the skin…"

"That jumper took the edge off his appeal," Malfoy said dryly. It truly was an awful jumper… he shut off that train of thought and walked over to the bed. He was not surprised to find that when Pansy had fallen on the bed the hem of her robe had come up, her hair was carefully dishevelled and the top three buttons hadn't been done.

"But darling, think of the fun you could have taking it off," Pansy said, moving slightly to make room for Draco. He sat on the edge of the bed, one arm draped across the headboard.

"Pansy, remember what I said about endearments?"

"That you don't find them endearing?"

"Quite," Malfoy said. "And yet you persist in using them. I can't think why…" he grabbed her hand and twisted it sharply to the edge of pain.

"Because I love the way you react to them," Pansy said, grinning. "Normally you'd have to be Potter or one of his friends to get that kind of a reaction off of you." Malfoy twisted her hand further round and she gasped. "You just don't react that strongly to anyone else," she managed to say before he released her hand. She drew it back to her chest, holding it protectively. "And you know, you still haven't answered my question."

"What do you want me to say?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Alright, I confess. I got him too drunk to stop me, then I threw him to the ground and screwed him silly without even bothering to get undressed first. No, wait, another scene. Ok, the fire was going, it was all dreadfully romantic, I promised I'd still respect him in the morning, but lied, so if you see him sobbing in a corner somewhere, that's why."

"Draco, that's exactly what I want you to say. And preferably, you'd also provide proof, like pictures or a convenient place to watch if it ever happened again," Pansy said, her voice greedy. Draco glared at her and she sighed. "Yes, I know, you find my fantasies a little irritating…

"I find your obsessions a lot irritating," Draco corrected. "If you're going to think about me and someone else, couldn't you do better than him? Like Fleur Delacouer maybe." He closed his eyes, pretending to daydream. "Now there's someone worth fantasising about."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "I'm much more attractive than her, and I don't have veela magic acting on every male I meet." She saw Draco smirk as his comment hit home and crossed her arms. "Stop talking about her. I know you only do it to get a reaction."

Draco frowned at her choice of words. Where had he heard that before? Oh yes, last night with… He shut that thought off with what was getting to be practised ease. Pansy saw the frown and took it as a sign she'd scored a point too.

"Draco, promise me something. If ever you do anything with Potter, promise you'll tell me all about it." Her smile grew wider. "In great detail."

Draco picked up her hand, still covered with bandages and smelling of the herbal ointment Madam Pomfrey had used to bring down the swelling, and placed it over his heart. "You'll be the first to know." He smiled. "My word of honour."

Pansy giggled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that was convincing." She let herself be pulled upright so she was sitting next to Draco. "I love it when you fake sincerity," she said, leaning close enough that she was almost pressed against Draco. He bent his head and she tilted her head up for a kiss. At the last minute he pulled away.

"Maybe we'd better wait until your hands have stopped oozing," he said with one of his best smiles, standing up and stepping away from her. "You know your way out."

Pansy pursed her lips, furious at having fallen for one of Draco's little games. She reached for her wand, remembered that she'd left it in her own room, and settled for throwing a book at him before walking out of the room. Draco sighed in intellectual appreciation at her walk, which managed to combine righteous fury with the kind of swish that a succubus would have envied. After she'd left, he closed the door and walked over to the mirror. He pulled down his collar and examined the mouth-shaped mark on his neck. "Bloody Potter," he muttered. "Nothing but trouble since the first day I met him."

In the Dinner Hall

"What happened with you and Malfoy." Hermione paused. "Actually, I don't think I want to know. Just tell me if it's something I should know."

"Do you think this could wait until we've finished breakfast?" Harry whispered. It wasn't that Hermione's voice was particularly loud. It was just rather penetrating. "I didn't…" he stopped, because the only thing he could think to say was 'I didn't have sex with Malfoy'.

Hermione waited until the Hall had cleared a bit before speaking again. "You didn't do anything stupid, did you?"

"If I'd done something stupid, don't you think I'd tell you?" Harry said.

"That depends on how stupid it is!" Hermione managed to whisper her shout. "It's really big, isn't it? Otherwise you wouldn't care about telling us. I told Ron that, but you know how oblivious he can be." Hermione was panicking, but in the particular Hermione-style, where she was already working out how to fix whatever Harry had done, and whether she'd need to get another pass to the Restricted Section of the library to do it. Hermione panicking tended to involve her becoming extremely efficient. "At least tell me it's nothing that you'd get expelled for. You didn't duel, did you? You know that's illegal without a qualified wizard officiating."

"I didn't break any Hogwarts rules that I know of," Harry said with total honesty.

"Well that's something." Hermione pushed her food around her plate, instantly calmer. "Ron thinks you and Malfoy just fought and you're not saying anything because you don't want Gryffindor to be fined more points. He's really annoyed that you won't tell him what you did to Malfoy."

Harry choked on his food. Hermione waited impatiently for him to recover. "I just want to know why you won't tell us. Malfoy's telling everyone that he saved both of you from the alligators and found the cottage and everything." She rolled her eyes. "Like anyone's going to believe him."

Harry smiled in site of himself. "That's what I told him," he said.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she stored away that bit of information. *One of the curses of a curious mind,* she thought. *You can't help trying to figure things out, even if they're things that you don't really think you want to know.* She munched her toast automatically while trying to think about all the possible situations that fit the evidence. Something had happened, obviously. Not the usual fights, because Harry wouldn't have minded telling her and Ron about those. And Harry was usually better at keeping things to himself than this, better at covering things up. Now he seemed almost embarrassed, and every time she brought it up he looked like he was on the verge of blushing.

"Harry, he didn't try anything, did he?" Hermione said uncertainly. Harry's head shot up.

"Wha… What makes you say that?" Harry stammered.

"That's it, isn't it?" Hermione smiled with triumph at successfully solving the puzzle. "I wondered, because you're usually so much better at, well, it seems rude to say lying, but really, you are." She frowned. "Well, not lying exactly. Normally when there's something you don't want to talk about, you're much better at avoiding the subject. The exceptions being when you're embarrassed, and you only get embarrassed by romance or hero-worship. Since I can't see Malfoy giving you the 'Boy Who Lived' treatment…" she let herself trail off.

"I knew it was trouble when you started that Psychology and Psychomancy course," Harry said. He looked around to make sure no-one was listening in.

"Honestly, Harry, was that all it was?" Hermione said. Harry choked again. "Oh, it's not like it's such a big thing. Really, I should have been expecting it."

"You…" Harry put his fork down and started rubbing his temples.

"Yes," Hermione said brightly. "It's the sort of tactic Malfoy would use. Try to embarrass you with a sexual situation, playing on muggle prejudices as well as your own shyness about things like this. Given Malfoy's manipulative tendencies, he was bound to try this eventually." She looked at Harry. "Just another way of trying to get a reaction out of you."

Harry closed his eyes and silently thanked any deity listening for the fact that, occasionally, and in spite of her intelligence, Hermione could be just as oblivious as Ron. "Yeah, that seems likely," he said, smiling.

"You probably felt pretty awkward," Hermione asked sympathetically. "I hope you didn't show it too much."

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to dealing with Malfoy," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"The best way of dealing with bullies is to ignore them," Hermione said, getting up. "You know how Malfoy is. If he thinks he's scored a point off of you, he'll do the same thing again. Still," she added, pushing her chair in and picking up her book, "since it didn't work, you probably won't have to worry about it. He'll probably go back to his usual thing, insults and trying to sabotage your spells in Charms." She looked at her watch, grumbled at the time, and left.

Harry stared down at his food, his appetite suddenly gone. He wanted to swear, except he didn't have any words that adequately expressed his feelings and the situation. "I think I may have done something really stupid," he muttered.