Cho Must Die a Horrible, Painful Death

On a separate note, I had a typo/usage error in the A/N from the last chapter. It's the Cadbury Creme Eggs, I swear - they do something to my head! ;)


* * * * *

Chapter Three: Another Lame-ass Excuse for a Duel

* * * * *

Potions was never a pleasant place to be, and today was no exception. Although the dingy classroom, located in the chilly depths of the school, was normally a shiver-inducing cold, today it was simply sweltering.

The class period had begun with the room being chilly as usual, but as the students brewed a particularly difficult potion that, when concocted correctly, emitted great swells of dense vapor, the classroom became exceedingly sticky and hot. Many of the less conspicuous (to Snape's watchful eye) students were reduced to using their scrolls as fans, whereas the less stealthy sat with their mouths agape, panting like a pack of Labrador Retrievers.

Harry was particularly unhappy in this heat, as he refused to take off his suffocating robe like many of the other students had. He didn't wish to sit there, practically naked, with Malfoy looking on. Instead, he sat hunched over his desk, sweat clinging to the back of his neck and dripping from his messy curls onto the collar of his robes, with his eyes glazed over in despondent misery.

Considering this, Harry blamed all of his subsequent actions on the heat. Surely he wouldn't have otherwise found him self in an embarrassing altercation with Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy, Harry noticed, didn't sweat. He glistened. Throughout the period, Harry stole glances at Malfoy's figure, perched regally in his seat in front of Harry, as though he was quite cool and comfortable. Only the light sheen on the back of his neck and his forearms betrayed his fevered state. Still, Harry decided that Malfoy was the only person he knew who could manage to make a hundred degree heat look like a refreshing occurrence.

Harry had noticed a lot of things lately. He was never one to observe and analyze others' appearances, but he had made a particularly study of Malfoy of late. Like Harry, Malfoy had grown several inches in stature, and now stood an impressive 6 foot 2 inches. He'd finally stopped using a jar full of gel a day, and wispy white-blond hair fell softly about his ears. This change in grooming gave him a less jarring edge, Harry thought. If he still didn't maintain his trademark sneer all the time, he could have looked positively pleasant. But at least his toned and healthy physique made up for his strained countenance. Harry recognized in Malfoy's build the same lean, sinewy muscle that being a Seeker had given him.

After assessing Malfoy's physical attributes, Harry decided that though simply looking at him didn't induce the instant hard-on that he reckoned being gay would, Draco Malfoy was a bit of a turn-on, nonetheless. Harry could at least understand why the girls seemed to giggle whenever the Head Boy was around.
Head Boy. What an interesting title for Malfoy to hold. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he lived up to that distinction in... every way. Blushing furiously, Harry moved to hide his head in his hands.

Incidentally, since Neville no longer took Potions, as he had no intention of seeking a NEWT in the subject, Harry had been promoted to class klutz, according to Snape. And today Harry unwittingly lived up to Snape's expectations, and then some.

In one swift movement, Harry knocked his steaming cauldron on its side, effectively dousing the person seated in front of him in the mixture. Both to Harry's dismay and delight, that person happened to be Draco Malfoy. It was unfortunate that it was Malfoy, but deep down in his subconscious, Harry rejoiced at the potion's having a corrosive property, as it ate through the material of Draco's shirt and pants, leaving him shrieking, trying to cover up his very exposed assets and desperately attempting to stop the potion from eating through his skin at the same time.

"Insolent boy!" Snape spat at Harry, as he jumped up from his desk and performed a quick "Evanesco" spell to remove the remains of the potion from Malfoy's porcelain skin. Malfoy, left standing with just his boxers and shoes and socks intact, spun around to face Harry.

Harry simply stood aghast. He was torn evenly among embarrassment, fear, and arousal.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your negligence, Potter," Snape snarled. "And you'll serve detention with me Friday evening. I think you'll find yourself better able to exercise control over your extreme stupidity in wasting ingredients once you've set to sorting and cataloguing all of them."

Harry peered at his feet, willing himself to control his anger. Snape turned on his heel and headed back to his desk, dismissing the class with a cold 'You may go.'

The parched and sweaty students filed out, though they all managed an amused glance at the bright red Harry Potter and half-naked Draco Malfoy before they left. Only after Harry had begrudgingly collected his books and materials and thrown them into his bag, did he notice that Malfoy stood fixed on the spot, crossing his arms about his chest and glaring at Harry.

"Potter," he finally spat. "I certainly hope you're not so much a blithering idiot that you think you can simply get away with some lost points and a detention for this."

Inwardly Harry's heartbeat quickened and he fancied himself fit to have a heart attack, but he put on a resolute face and forced himself to look at Malfoy. "Don't trouble yourself, Malfoy," Harry seethed, "I've also forgone any credit for today's assignment, which I'm sure pleases you greatly."

"Quite," Malfoy smirked, "but that wasn't what I meant, and you know it."

"Oh?" Harry questioned in mock-innocence, stealing a glimpse of Draco as he stood there, hip cocked to one side. Lingering on Malfoy's hips as long as he could without Malfoy taking notice, Harry noted how pronounced his hips bones were. His boxers clung gracefully to his pelvis, and Harry had to mentally will himself not to imagine Malfoy without them.
"Retribution, Potter. I want to bring you to your knees and make you cry like a baby."

Despite the fact that Malfoy's words brought several increasingly naughty scenarios to his head, Harry suppressed the urge to answer back with a sexual innuendo. "What else is new? This is kind of old hat for us, Malfoy."

"That's no matter to me, Potter. You know what I want - a wizard's duel. Just you, me, and our wands."

Somehow, as Harry peered at Malfoy standing there wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and a grin (a sadistic grin, no less), Harry couldn't help but find that statement laced with sex as well. He really needed to get his mind out of the gutter. Especially as he was currently peering at the slit at the front of Malfoy's shorts and was mentally visualizing what lay beneath it.

"Now?" Harry questioned indignantly. Hadn't they done this whole "fight to the death/manly man conflict-resolution" thing before?

"Very funny Potter," Draco sneered. "Certainly not, you daft prick."

*Prick*. This was just too much - kneeling, crying, wands, and pricks... Harry was getting hard. Damn it. At least he still had his robes; they were really a quite functional piece of attire.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Alright. Give me your bloody robe, Potter."

"What?" Harry's eyes flew open and he clutched at his robes protectively.

"You heard me. Seeing as you've successfully done away with all my clothing, it's only fair that you provide me with suitable apparel with which to get back to my dorm. Now, have at it, Potter."

"There is *no* way I'm going to give you any article of my clothing, Malfoy."

"Oh yes you bloody well are, Potter!" Malfoy narrowed his eyes to slits and flipped his hair back.

It was a no-win situation: to comply would mean covering up Malfoy's gloriously near-naked figure and revealing Harry's growing arousal.

"Potter!" Snape's snarky tone cut through their silence and interrupted the staring match that had been going on between them. Harry looked up first, losing the undeclared game, causing Draco to smirk further.

Snape stalked over to them. "Give Mr. Malfoy your robes."

"What?" Harry protested. "You've got to be kidding me!"
"Absolutely not, Mr. Potter. You'll assist Mr. Malfoy in clothing himself in any way that you can. I don't care if that means you have to be the one reduced to your underclothes. Serves you right for fumbling about when you should have been working."

Draco smiled, proud of his conquest over Harry. In spite of his anger over the situation, Harry marveled how, even when reduced to nothing but his boxer shorts, Malfoy could still manage to be so resolute and self-confident. No one in just their underwear and socks should be that cocky.

Speaking of which, Harry did not want to remove his robes, despite Snape's demand that he do so.

"Well, Potter?" Draco put on a simpering grin. "Ready to take it all off?"

"What? You... I, uh," Harry sputtered. "You don't seriously expect me to... strip, do you?"

"Certainly not, Potter," Draco smirked. "Don't flatter yourself. Like anyone would want to see you naked."

Had Draco not hurt Harry's pride, he would have returned with some bitter, witty comment, but at the moment Harry had none to offer. Instead, he reluctantly removed his cloak, casting daggers at Malfoy with his eyes.

"That's better, Potter. Though I was hoping for a bit more of a show. You really are quite boring, aren't you?" Draco flung the cloak about his shoulders, collected his things, and headed for the door. Harry followed sluggishly, quite bitten by what had just transpired. Just as Draco was heading round the corner, Harry called out after him.

"Tomorrow night, nine o'clock, in the empty room on the Charms corridor."

"Excuse me, Potter?" Draco flipped around, eyebrows raised haughtily.

"Our duel, Malfoy," Harry bantered, having recovered momentarily from his insecure repose. "You didn't specify a time. So, tomorrow, nine o'clock, Charms corridor."

"You're on, Potter," Draco grinned devilishly, suddenly reminding Harry of their infamous duel in second year. Malfoy continued his journey into the dungeons, leaving Harry rather perturbed, but still pleased with himself.

Yes, he'd meet Malfoy for a duel, but he had no intention of fighting. On the contrary, it seemed the perfect opportunity for a bit of snog-testing.

* * * * *

Harry sat on an abandoned desk that wobbled slightly under his weight. He took no notice of this, however, as he was far too nervous to gripe about a wonky desk. It was time to take the bull by the horns (metaphorically speaking) and figure this whole thing out once and for all. He would kiss Draco Malfoy and see what happened. Simple. And, of course, he would have a memory charm ready so the snarky bastard couldn't hold it against him.

But Harry couldn't follow through on any of his plans if Malfoy didn't show up. And currently he was ten minutes late. As the minutes ticked by, Harry began to lose his resolve.

You didn't just lock people in rooms and attack them with your lips, did you? There had to be better ways of figuring out you were gay. But if Harry's feelings were exclusive to Malfoy, then he would have to encounter him intimately eventually.

Before Harry could analyze his theory any further, Malfoy sauntered in. And he looked very yummy, as far as Harry was concerned. If one's goal was to look cool at the onset of a duel, Malfoy had accomplished it. He wore a charcoal gray mock turtleneck that accentuated the sleek line of his sloping shoulders and a tailored pair of dark khakis. Over his shoulders lay a sort of half cape thing that Harry remembered seeing on Gilderoy Lockhart all those years ago. The olive green of the cape contrasted nicely with Malfoy's dewy skin tone. He looked positively debonair. And he looked sexy.

Harry licked his lips, which had gone dry as he stood gaping at Malfoy. He mentally scolded himself for wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of ill-fitting jeans.

"Pleased to see me, Potter?" Draco crooned. "Of course you are," he answered himself. "It's me."

Harry frowned. "What is *that* supposed to mean, Malfoy?" To Malfoy, Harry sounded his normal, argumentative self, but to Harry's ears his words were tinged with a defense of Malfoy's assumption.

"We all know I'm gorgeous, Potter. But on to more important things. Well, nothing's more important than I am, but still. Let's get on with it."

"Fine," Harry answered as he jumped down from his perch and took a defensive stance across from Draco. They both withdrew their wands from their robes and eyed each other suspiciously.

"Any rules?" Harry queried.

"Only that there are no rules," Draco responded seriously.

Harry nodded. His eyes suddenly focused upon the classroom door, which stood ajar. He moved swiftly past Draco and muttered a locking charm.

"Locking the doors, are we?" Draco drawled snidely. "Don't want anyone to hear you scream? Oh, don't worry, Potter. I'll make you scream loud enough for everyone to hear."

Somehow, everything derisive that Draco said leaned slightly to one side of either being snarky or kinky, depending on how one chose to take it. Either way, Harry knew he had to make a move. He certainly didn't wish to duel with Malfoy before kissing him, so getting to the snogging promptly was his main objective.
He returned to his prior defensive position facing across from Malfoy. Before Harry could mutter a Stunning spell so he could have his way with Draco, Malfoy hit him with a Leg-Locking Charm that knocked the wind out of Harry and brought him to his knees. Draco snarled with satisfaction at Harry's quick loss. Harry performed a Finite Incantatum on himself and finally managed that Stunning spell, however, and a very unprepared Draco went soaring through the air and slammed against the wall with a dull thud.

Stumbling as he rushed up from his kneeling position, Harry sprinted over to Malfoy and hoisted him up against the wall, locking his knees against Draco's and holding him in place by his shoulders. He muttered a quick 'Enervate' so that Draco was conscious once more.

"You really shouldn't take the time to sneer between curses, Malfoy. It leaves you quite vulnerable," Harry muttered absentmindedly, his focus on the task at hand.

Draco struggled under Harry's grip, but to no avail. Harry was surprisingly strong, so all Draco could manage was to shoot him evil looks. That and continue to run his mouth, spouting nasty comments at Harry.

"Let go of me, you right prat! This is hardly playing fair! Ugh!" Realizing that Harry wasn't going to respond to this and finding himself rather disturbed by his silence, Draco resorted to his standard device: out right insults.

"I told you I'd have you on your knees, Potter," he threw Harry a sly grin. "Though I'd imagine you're used to it. You and Weasel probably take turns."

Harry's anger flared and he pushed Malfoy further against the wall.

"Ow! Potter..." Before Draco could finish, he found Harry's lips crushed against his own.

Granted, Harry hadn't exactly been planning on such a violent, assaulting kiss, but with Malfoy he'd hardly have the chance at whispering sweet nothings and kissing him tenderly. So Harry settled for plundering Draco's mouth with his own, first limiting himself to a closed-mouth kiss, then demanding entrance to the other boy's mouth by prodding his lips with his tongue.

"Mmmmnnnfff!" Draco protested somewhere deep in his throat, further struggling against Harry by batting his hands at Harry's sides and trying to step on his feet. Harry brought his hold down from Malfoy's shoulders and pinned him by the forearms to stop his assault on Harry's torso.

Malfoy really shouldn't have struggled so greatly against Harry, as he only succeeded in eliciting a physical response from Harry's loins. Draco's eyes flew wide open in shock. He unwittingly opened his mouth to Harry's tongue as he muttered, "What the fuck?"

Taking a page out of Ginny's book, Harry greedily explored Draco's mouth with his tongue. He tasted sweet, and Harry was sure he'd had a mint of some kind after dinner. The vapors from the candy chilled Harry's tongue slightly and he savored the feeling. He liked this - having his tongue in Draco's mouth. He liked it even more when Draco started kissing him back.

In what seemed like a split-second, Draco ceased struggling and actually leaned into Harry's embrace. Though not exactly with matching fervor, Draco moved his mouth against Harry's in a tentative but accepting manor.

Harry was flabbergasted. He hadn't expected Malfoy to kiss back; though mind you, he was perfectly fine with it. More than fine, in fact. He was blissfully happy.

Going from simple mirth to ecstatic bliss as Malfoy stroked Harry's tongue with his own, Harry moaned involuntarily. Draco seemed to grin against Harry's mouth as he slid his tongue further into Harry's willing mouth.

As Draco massaged Harry's tongue with his own, Harry's hands loosened their grip on Draco's arms. Keeping his touch light, Harry slid his right hand down to Draco's elbow as his left hand drifted over to his waist where it settled. His arms freed, Draco actually pulled Harry closer by pressing his left hand at the small of Harry's back. Harry gasped into Draco's mouth at the contact.

At his gasp, both Harry and Draco realized how out of breath they were, and they broke apart, panting and glaring at each other. Harry was exasperated by the concept that Draco Malfoy had just given him the kiss of his life, and it showed in the wild glint in his eyes. Draco, on the other hand, looked terrified despite his compliance a moment earlier.

Instinctively, Harry released his hold of Draco and jumped back. More awkward silence and panting followed. Should he say something? Was Malfoy going to say something? He looked as though he had the words just on the tip of his tongue, but the idea of where his tongue had recently been was keeping them choked at the back of his throat.

"Potter?" Draco managed in a strangled gasp. His tone was far from his normal scathing, malicious one. He simply sounded absolutely confounded and somehow lost.

"I..." Harry stumbled. He didn't know what to say. All he could do was look frantically about the room - from Draco's confused eyes, to the walls, to his feet. The silence began to cave in on him. Sound became muffled as he closed his eyes and felt the whole world expanding around him, becoming too large for him to handle. He felt trapped, like he couldn't breathe.

Stealing one more glance at Draco, into whose face a quiet rage seemed to be creeping, Harry grasped at his wand and did the only thing he could think of.

"Obliviate," he muttered and dashed from the room, leaving one very confused Malfoy.

End Chapter Three