Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Genres:
Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 11/26/2003
Updated: 11/26/2003
Words: 5,548
Chapters: 1
Hits: 422

Nicotine

Realisation

Story Summary:
In which Harry and Draco go through general teen angst, Hermione is a pillar of strength, and Ron gets less than five lines. It does not, in fact, involve much nicotine at all. A predominantly Harry/Draco fic, although I suppose Harry/Hermione gets about ten seconds of monitor time. Hurrah!
Posted:
11/26/2003
Hits:
422
Author's Note:
Thanks to Audrey for being a loffly beta. She is squeezable and cute and puts up with my idiocy. Also she is some kind of grammar nazi, which is helpful. I love you, Auds. constructive criticism. Thanks. :D
On the second day in November, Harry Potter removed a clipping from the Daily Prophet. He did not stop to ask Hermione if she cared that he was tearing the front page from her newspaper. He watched an ashen-faced Draco Malfoy trip haphazardly out of his seat and stumble--the normal almost-sickly pallor of his skin now changed to an ill green, the natural grace in his movement gone--through the door at the end of the Great Hall.

Lucius Malfoy to Receive Dementor's Kiss

It did not come as a surprise to Harry--Draco, however, had been silently nursing a secret hope that his father would be pardoned as he had been so many times before. He had been lying to himself, of course, with half of his thoughts screaming, Father will be released. He will, he has to be, while a maddening voice in his head was saying, you know he won't. He was begging himself, but unable to convince himself.

That night, Harry threw on his father's cloak for one last time (because it was always just for 'one last time') and looked for Draco Malfoy. It was an odd feeling, pitying someone you had mocked and cursed and hated for years. Harry pitied and he searched and he called out Draco's name and it echoed back off the stone walls of the castle to taunt him: Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, diminishing into silence.

Harry did eventually find him, surprisingly; he rarely found things he sought out.

'Hey.'

Draco hastily rubbed his eyes and leaned back, looking haughtily up at Harry as if he had not in fact just been crying. 'What?' he asked sullenly, sulkily; he was so puerile about these things. His eyelids were drooping; it did not look to Harry as if he had slept recently. Father will be released--but there was no hope of that, now. You know he won't.

Harry held his hand out. Draco took it cautiously, allowing Harry help him to his feet. 'What?' he asked again, the line of his jaw pulled taut as he clenched his teeth.

Harry rubbed his palm against his robes almost as if he were trying to cleanse it. 'I--' he stopped for just a moment and brief, awkward silence filled the room after the echoes ceased.

I, I, I.

'I'm sorry about your father,' he said. 'I know I didn't have anything to do with it, but I thought that I should let you know--'

Draco's fist connected with Harry's jaw, stunning and silencing him and knocking his head back. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and bent from the waist, his right hand--still holding the newspaper clipping from that morning--reaching to press experimentally for pain.

'Malfoy!' Harry yelled, dropping his hand and also the bit of newspaper and taking a few steps towards the door where the blonde boy had exited, his steps still echoing fast and hard. Yelling made his jaw burn, and he immediately regretted it.

Later, when Draco was likewise regretting rash actions, he found his way to Harry.

'Why are you sitting on the pitch?'

'I like the Quidditch pitch,' he said petulantly. 'Why are you smoking?'

Draco paused and considered this question, breathing quietly through his nose. 'I don't know,' he said, and the small click of the lighter sounded very loud in the silence that fell after he spoke.

'Do you like smoking?' Harry asked, conscious of the verbal repetition as he sat watching the flame curl around Draco's cigarette and light the palm of his pale hand and his mouth on either end.

Draco glanced up, looking alarmed, as if Harry had just disturbed something sacred. 'Not really,' he said, recovering and smirking awkwardly around the intrusion in his mouth as the hand holding his lighter fell into his lap. 'It tastes terrible.' He exhaled and the resulting cloud was no doubt a mixture of smoke and the normal condensation caused from the contact between breath and cold air.

Harry was eyeing him dubiously, as if unsure of the validity of that statement. He nodded slowly in hesitant acceptance, and he relaxed.

It could be called the first conversation they had shared, and Harry would remember it as such--The Conversation. They shared more, after that. It wasn't quite a friendship, but by their seventh year in school, Harry had become accustomed to slipping through the Slytherin common room and into Draco's room, which had been secured some years ago by his father--and the Slytherins had become accustomed to ignoring him.

Harry curled into the arm of one of the plush recliners in Draco's room, leaning to cross his arms on Draco's desk, his fingertips brushing the edges of the pile of papers that was Draco's notes, engrossed in but suffocated by all of his things. Harry watched Draco dip the nib of his quill in his inkpot, he watched him meticulously finish writing the end of his Potions report, and he watched him turn and smile when he was done.

'Don't you hate me anymore?' Harry asked quietly, driven by impulse; and Draco's smile faltered by just a fraction.

He had been smoking less lately (twice a week at most), but now he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and jammed it between his lips, fingers fumbling in the back of a desk drawer for his lighter. 'Potter, if I hated you,' he said, 'you wouldn't be here.' He clicked his lighter unsuccessfully at first but then managed to secure a flame.

'That sounds like a kiss,' Harry said.

Draco's cigarette fell from his mouth and into his inkwell. 'What are you on about?' he asked incredulously. He felt that Harry, oftentimes, shot ridiculous statements out at him just to throw him off. He was really quite good at it.

'The lighter,' Harry said, and did not elaborate further. 'Can I see it?'

'Can you?' Draco said disdainfully, tossing the old-fashioned, silver lighter. Harry shot him a look--the look--but did not retaliate.

Harry pulled his thumb along the ridged metal circle, the sharp grips unfamiliar. 'Doesn't it?' he asked. 'I couldn't put my finger on it, but...it sounds like a kiss.'

'Let's not talk about kisses,' Draco said, his expression darkening as he slumped in his chair.

Lucius Malfoy to Receive Dementor's Kiss. 'Sorry,' Harry said softly as he set the lighter on Draco's desk, the polished silver bright against the dark wood. 'I forgot.'

Draco sighed, throwing his inkwell and accompanying cigarette into the refuse bin. 'I know,' he said, his voice so quiet even in the silence that Harry could not be sure he had spoken.

Harry found that as he aged he became even more unpredictable, even to himself. Through that volatility he received detentions by the twos or more from Snape; got into a scuffle with Seamus that resulted in split knuckles, a black eye, a trip to the infirmary and more detention; kissed Malfoy.

It happened quickly, even by Harry's judgment. Draco was walking him back to Gryffindor Tower and had made a snide remark about Ron. 'Ooh,' Harry growled, 'I'll get you back for that.'

Draco tilted his chin back and cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. 'How?'

Harry guided him forcefully into the wall, trapping him between two suits of armour. Perhaps he meant to hit him, but instead he found himself leaning forward to grab Draco by the collar of his shirt.

He hadn't thought about it beforehand, but after he had actually begun to kiss him, he felt certain that Draco would push him away, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, maybe spit to rid himself of the taste.

He didn't.

Draco's right hand was trapped between them and Harry could feel Draco's knuckles hard against his stomach but it wasn't so bad; his left hand circled Harry's waist and pressed against the small of his back, pulling him closer--as if that were possible. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

'Stop,' Draco said, swallowing and speaking through his teeth. Even the air felt gritty in his mouth, the words dark with distress.

Harry jerked away, eyes wide. 'What?' he said, watching the pulse beat in Draco's throat, wondering in the back of his mind why he had never noticed it before. 'Why?'

'Because,' Draco said, his eyes downcast. 'I asked you to.' His gaze rose suddenly, alarmingly, to Harry's; the bloodshot veins in his pale eyes visible even in the semi-dark. 'Isn't that reason enough?' he asked, sounding dismayed. It was a strangled voice, one Harry had never expected to hear from Draco.

'Yes,' Harry said, and fled. He did his best to forget the way Draco's robes hung, the curve of his neck and shoulder, the contrast of heat-flushed skin and pink lips, along with the remaining tingling sensation in his own mouth.

Hermione was in the common room most nights, doing homework or reading or making sure no students were trying to leave the Tower. She did not, however, seem at all surprised that Harry had been out after-hours. 'Hello,' she said casually, glancing up from her parchment, her quill still poised to write. 'Where have you been?'

Harry shrugged angrily. 'Out,' he said, moving to take a seat next to her.

Her eyebrow arched inquisitively as he moved the pile of books, covers torn and faded from use, from the chair to the floor. He flung himself down and continued to fume, staring moodily at the hearth.

'You look like you've been in a fight,' she remarked, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in subtle amusement.

Harry glanced sharply at her. Hermione was pretty, with wavy hair and large brown eyes like liquid chocolate and olive skin. So why didn't he like her? She had been his best friend for years but he had never felt anything remotely romantic toward her. Well, he thought, taking a deep breath, let's just see, then.

Feeling the quickening beat of his heart in his chest, he leaned forward and kissed her. She made a small surprised sound in the back of her throat but didn't push him away immediately as he thought she would. She yielded until he tilted his head and prodded her lips with his tongue in a vain attempt to get her to open her mouth.

'Harry,' she said quietly, fingertips splayed on his chest as she pushed him gently away. 'You're my best friend, and I love you, but I'm not going to sit her and let you kiss me when I know you want it to be someone else.' The shock must have been evident in his face, jaw unhinged and eyes snapping wide, because she laughed. 'When I said that it looked like you had been in a fight, I meant...I meant a lovers' spat, not a physical altercation.'

His hand was still on her waist. 'I guess you aren't the smartest witch at Hogwarts for nothing,' he said, trying to crack a smile.

Her mouth tilted in what was either a smile or a pout of disapproval. 'I didn't need books and cleverness to deduce that. What happened?'

Harry stared at her, his mouth moving soundlessly. 'I did something terrible,' he said finally, his head falling forward to rest on her shoulder. 'Something really terrible.' She didn't say anything, but reached up to run her hands lightly through his hair, a softly reassuring gesture. 'I kissed a boy,' he said, and pursed his lips, waiting for the explosion.

The hands sifting through Harry's black mop of hair stopped momentarily before continuing. 'Well, Harry, that's not so bad, is it? You can just chalk it up to experimentation, I suppose. I know for a fact that Seamus--'

'Seamus?' he said in stunned disbelief, before remembering what he was supposed to be confessing. He should his head. 'It wasn't just any boy, it was--' he stopped, unsure how to continue. In the end, he decided to simply tell the truth. 'It was Draco Malfoy.'

'Oh,' she said, and then, 'oh. Did you...have a fight with him?'

Harry leaned away and Hermione folded her hands awkwardly in her lap, looking at him with concern. 'I kissed him, and he told me to stop. I did.' He was becoming quickly frustrated again, recalling it.

'Did he push you away first thing?' Hermione asked slowly, seeming to mull over what he had said before forming a response.

Harry considered. 'No,' he said, realisation dawning. 'He kissed me back for a little while.'

Hermione looked at him, a small smile spreading across her face. 'You should go to bed,' she coaxed.

'Maybe we can talk more about it tomorrow.'

'Yeah,' Harry said, a responding smile appearing of its own volition. 'We can.' He stood up and replaced her books on the chair, then leaned down on impulse and kissed her cheek. 'Hermione,' he said, and paused. 'Thanks.'

She shrugged lightly, picking up her quill. 'You're welcome,' she said. Harry turned and opened his mouth to speak again, but she broke in quickly. 'I won't tell Ron,' she assured him. 'I promise.'

He closed his mouth and smiled hesitantly, nodding his thanks.

///

'I feel like I'm twelve,' Hermione said, swiping her hair back behind her ears. 'I haven't been on a picnic in ages.'

A smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. 'I've never been on a picnic.'

Hermione turned toward him, the jerking movement setting the basket swaying dangerously even as the wind whipped her hair in front of her face again. 'Never?' she asked. 'You've never been?' She had a habit of repeating herself--probably because not many people ever listened to the bossy Head Girl. Harry snorted, regaining his grip on the wicker handle. 'Who would I have gone with?'

'Oh,' she said quietly, looking regretful. 'I didn't think of that.' Then she brightened visibly, beaming up at him. 'Well,' she said, 'I'm glad you're sharing your first picnic with me.'

He laughed, jostling her shoulder with his. 'Me too,' he grinned.

Hermione peered up at the sky. 'It does look like it might rain in a while, though,' she said thoughtfully. 'It'd be a shame to end your first picnic with rain.'

Harry shrugged, off-setting the balance of the basket again. He glanced at it, alarmed, before remembering that Hermione was still holding her handle tightly. 'I don't think it'd be so bad as long as it doesn't happen in the middle.'

She smiled, a quick flash of teeth behind pink lips.

They stopped by the lake, setting the heavy basket down. Hermione helped him spread their blanket across the ground, laughing when he got it tangled.

Harry stood back and surveyed their work with pride, an array of sandwich necessities and utensils neatly displayed. 'Dobby was certainly generous with food today,' he said.

Hermione sat down and crossed her legs, looking up at him. 'He does rather have a fond spot for you,' she smiled. 'Really, I only had to mention your name and he procured a feast.'

He shrugged, flushing, and made a short mming noise of agreement as he sat next to her, legs lazily sprawled in front of himself as he reached for the bread.

'Tell me about Malfoy,' Hermione said, leaning back to rest her weight on the heels of her hands.

Harry swallowed audibly and, fumbling, almost dropped his knife in the mustard. 'Well,' he said, glancing back at her, 'you know that we've been seeing each other for a while.' At her raised eyebrow, he corrected himself hastily. 'Platonically,' he said, cheeks colouring at his Freudian slip.

'Yes,' she said patiently, although he knew she was dying for information. 'I knew you went into the dungeons, and I knew it was to see him. Ron was never too happy.'

He shrugged, sitting back alongside her and chewing thoughtfully. 'It was always platonic,' he said in slight defence.

'Until you kissed him,' Hermione said gently.

'Well,' Harry said, watching the hair fall in front of her face as she leaned forward to reach for the jug of pumpkin juice, 'yes. I didn't really mean to kiss him. It just...kind of happened.'

'Kind of happened?' Hermione asked wryly.

He shot her a smile and shrugged. 'It just happened,' he corrected. 'My first instinct was to beat the shite out of him, but I suppose kissing won out...somehow.'

She laughed then, tossing her hair out of her eyes before turning back to him, the smile still on her lips. 'Your logic, Harry, is absolutely astounding. "I wanted to punch him,"' she said, lowering the pitch of her voice in a poor imitation of Harry's, '"but then I realised that I would much rather snog him." You are incredible.'

'Well, it wound up a rather nice kiss. His hand--his knuckles, you know--were kind of...um,' he said, blushing furiously. 'His hand, it was, ah, pinned between us, and it...tickled a bit, I suppose.'

Hermione blinked. 'You're still ticklish?'

Harry narrowed his eyes warily. 'Yes,' he said slowly, leaning back nervously.

He only had time to throw his hands up in futile defence before she had leapt upon him, fingers digging under his ribs. 'No!' he yelled, laughing helplessly, his words punctuated by gasps as he tried to squirm away. 'Hermione--please--' He shoved at her hands, trying to at least curb her enthusiasm. 'Please, oh, God--' he squealed in protest and was duly embarrassed, but at least he was laughing.

She was relentless, one of her hands dutifully batting his away while the other continued to assault his stomach.

Eventually, Harry gave up any form of physical protest and lay prone, hands at his side. She took that opportunity to grow tired of harassing him, and rested her palms on his chest as he caught his breath.

He didn't know, but she was finding comfort in his heartbeat.

'Do you love him?' she asked without precedent, still bending over him so that her hair fell around his face, sheltering him for just that moment from any judgment the world had to offer.

'Yes,' he said, and the weight he had been carrying was lifted.

'Then bless you, Harry,' she said, and she inclined her head to meet his lips in a swift, chaste kiss. 'Bless you,' she murmured again, her lips moving to brush over his scar, 'for seeing something in him that no one else can.' When she sat up, the first drop of rain splashed on his cheek.

She stood then, and held out her hand to help him up. He took it, still a little dazed and slightly befuddled. Her grip tightened alarmingly, and he turned sharply to see what she was staring at over his shoulder.

Draco Malfoy was standing on the threshold of the castle, and even though he was far away, Harry could see that his fists were clenched at his side, a grimace marring his features. He turned in a swirl of black robes and stalked back inside.

Harry's heartbeat roared in his ears. He took an instinctive step towards Hogwarts--Follow him! his mind was screaming, Follow him before he won't let you!--but Hermione dropped his hand and he was slammed back into reality.

'Follow him,' Hermione said, in tandem with his brain. 'I can get this back inside.'

'No,' Harry said, cold anger settling in the pit of his stomach even as reality set in. 'He can wait.'

The rain was cold and falling heavily by that point, and it was a complicated matter to gather everything up. They wound up having to make several trips, in and out of the rain, and walked into the Great Hall late to dinner, covered in mud and rain and grime.

'Ugh,' Ron said tactfully, his fork halting halfway to his mouth. Hermione smiled apologetically at him, but Harry was watching the Slytherin section of the room as Draco shoved himself noisily away from the table and left in the same cloud of anger and black robes that Harry had seen him in earlier.

Harry wasn't hungry anymore. 'I'm going to take a shower,' he said. 'Do you mind if I use the...?' he let his sentence trail off.

Ron blinked, and shoved his fork into his mouth. 'Yeah, sure,' he said, his mouth full of potato. 'You remember the password, right?'

'I remember,' he affirmed, and left.

///

He knew where to find Malfoy. It was the same place he had hid him in the beginning of their sixth year, where every memory they shared--good and bad--echoed off the walls.

He took his time going, though, and when he finally trudged up the shaking stairs it was late. He ran his hands through his hair, still slightly damp and comfortingly cool against his neck.

Malfoy was waiting, of course, and Harry was late.

'Did you have fun with your girlfriend?' he spat. Harry didn't think he had seen him angrier.

'Draco--' Harry began, but was ruthlessly cut off.

'Don't,' he hissed, his eyes narrowing to dark grey triangles of hatred. 'Don't you ever, ever even think of calling me by my first name again.'

Harry's mouth snapped shut automatically, the insult sketched plainly across his features. 'Fine,' he said, speaking impossibly quickly now, frustration speeding his speech. 'But Hermione isn't my girlfriend.'

'Bullshit.' Draco said the word easily but his emotions were betrayed by his fists, clenching at his sides as his shoulders hunched with the effort of restraining himself.

'You can ask her, if you want,' Harry snapped. 'You're so childish, Malfoy! You're jealous and the only thing I've even been talking about with Hermione is you, because I care about you, because I miss you--'

'Get out of here,' he said, his teeth set together. 'I'm sick of looking at you, sick of listening to this rubbish.'

Harry's eyes widened before narrowing to match Draco's, green replacing grey. He turned and took just one step toward the door.

'Don't go,' Draco said; but there was no trace of pleading in his voice, only demand--and Harry rounded on him.

'Which is it, Malfoy?' he said, straining not to shout. 'Stay? Go? What do you want? What do you expect me to do when you won't even tell me what you want?'

'Kiss me!' Draco screamed, the words exploding out of him and scratching his already raw throat. 'That's what I bloody want you to do! Am I being clear enough? Kiss me, is that lucid enough for you?'

The breath caught in Harry's throat and he struggled to swallow, to inhale, to exhale, anything. 'No,' he said, his voice low and threatening. 'You'll have to be more concrete than that, Malfoy.'

Draco gaped at him for only a moment before his expression twisted into a sneer. Harry cut him off when he opened his mouth to snap back.

'You rejected me,' Harry said, hoping he didn't sound as distraught as he felt. 'I kissed you and you fucking rejected me.'

This time, Draco didn't bother to hide his surprise. 'What?' he asked, incredulous. 'I rejected you? You were the one who snubbed me!' At Harry's expression of confusion, he growled in frustration and continued. 'Don't you remember the first day of school?'

I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.

Harry's mouth formed a silent Oh, and Draco smirked.

'Remember now?' he asked, his voice acidic.

'That's no reason to hold a grudge for seven years,' Harry said quietly.

Draco lip curled. 'You don't know what it's like, Potter. Do you know how embarrassing that was--being shunned in front of the entire school? Having to go back to your common room and be ridiculed?'

'No,' Harry said. 'I don't.'

'That's what I thought,' he said.

Harry swallowed. 'Malfoy, I still don't think you should hold it against me just because I made a mistake in my first year.' He looked up, eyes beseeching. 'Everybody makes mistakes.'

Draco stared at him impassively. 'Yes, Potter,' he said, sounding surprisingly calm. 'Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes, and we are going out to the goddamn Quidditch pitch.'

For a reason Harry couldn't quite place, this amused him, and he found himself trying not to chuckle as he said, 'Why are we going out to the goddamn Quidditch pitch?'

He might have imagined it, but Draco's jaw seemed to tighten even more as he snatched Harry's sleeve to guide him from the room. 'Because that's where we talked for the first time without me trying to bash the bloody shite out of you, you arse.'

'I believe,' Harry said, feeling utterly silly being dragged by out of the castle simply by the fabric of his sleeve, 'that trying is the operative word.'

Draco shot him a withering glance. 'I believe the operative word is shut up.'

'That's two words,' Harry said mutinously, but quieted under the subsequent glare he received.

They didn't talk until they reached the pitch. The air felt almost soggy from the earlier rain and it made the thin shirt Harry was wearing under his robes stick to him all the more uncomfortably.

'Sit down,' Draco said, sounding pleasant enough as he released Harry's arm and smiled his most charming smile. His expression held for a moment before it transformed suddenly into the same ugly sneer he had been wearing only a few moments before. 'Sit down,' he said, and he raised his hands to rest on Harry's shoulders.

'Er, where?' Harry asked, lifting his foot from the spongy ground. 'The pitch seems to be a bit...wet.'

'That's fine,' Draco said, strengthening his hold, and shoved Harry as hard as he could, knocking him off balance.

He stumbled back, tripping awkwardly over his feet as he tried to catch himself. He landed flat on his back, and the breath was knocked out of him. He choked, trying to work oxygen back into his lungs, and when he looked up Draco was standing above him.

'Is this concrete enough for you, Harry?' Draco asked, dropping to his knees, one on either side of Harry. 'Is this bloody concrete enough?'

Harry gave a weak cough in reply, and Draco kissed him. It was a ferocious kiss, an angry kiss, and Harry felt all of Draco's pent-up rage and frustration seeping out of him as he relaxed.

'I missed you,' Draco said. 'It wasn't even a day, but I missed you and I hate it and I hated it, I hated missing you.'

Harry had gotten his breath back only to lose it again, becoming all bright eyes and tousled hair and ridiculous smiles. 'You missed me?' he asked, his head tilting to the side and his hair moving sloppily along with it.

Draco sat up, looking quite affronted. 'You didn't miss me?'

'I did!' Harry said immediately, words spilling out rapidly in panic as he lurched up onto his elbows. 'I--yes, I did.' He subsided, looking sheepish. 'I missed you a lot,' he said quietly, looking up at Draco from behind black lashes.

'Oh,' Draco said, and bent over him again, his lips curving delicately against Harry's. 'Good,' he murmured, and he sounded pleased. He jerked away when Harry's hands snaked their way under his shirt.

'Sorry,' Harry said immediately, 'I shouldn't have--'

'It's not that,' Draco said, just as quickly. 'It's just--your hands are cold.'

Harry pursed his lips shyly, and Draco could see the colour rise on his cheeks even in the dark. 'Your--your stomach's a little cold, too. Do you want my robes?' he asked, awkwardly pulling them off and draping them around Draco's shoulders without waiting for an answer.

'Now you'll freeze,' Draco protested.

Harry's lips parted in surprise, but he recovered quickly, sliding his hands under the thin fabric of Draco's shirt again. 'Not if you keep me warm,' he said, and he felt the other boy shiver. 'Are you still cold?'

'No,' Draco said, leaning to brush his lips against Harry's. 'Not at all.'

///

Harry woke shivering, wondering why he was cold and wet. His eyes opened slowly and wondered dimly if he had gone blind overnight. His thoughts still muddled, he lifted his head from the grass, and--Wait, he thought. He was supposed to be in his four-poster in the Gryffindor tower, not out on the pitch.

He shot up like a bolt and heard Draco groan in protest. 'Go back to bed,' Draco said blearily. 'I command you to give me my blanket back,' he added as he buried his face in his arms.

'Draco!' Harry said, trying to shake him into wakefulness. 'Get up! They'll miss us if we aren't at breakfast--'

Malfoy chose that moment to bite Harry's forearm in retaliation; succeeding, at least, in waking himself up a bit. 'What?' he asked, sitting up. 'Harry,' he said slowly, 'did we...'

'No!' Harry said, looking both appalled and terrified.

'...Stay out here all night?' Draco finished, his mouth quirking into a smirk.

Harry swallowed. 'Oh,' he said weakly. 'Yes, then.'

'I am starving,' Draco whinged. 'Is it time for breakfast yet? I would bloody kill for a piece of toast.'

'Toast,' Harry repeated. 'You don't seem like the toast type.'

He looked dreamily over at Harry. 'With a little butter and jam,' he said, 'wouldn't that be nice?' He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Harry's briefly. 'Mmm, you wouldn't be so bad with a little butter, either,' he said thoughtfully.

'Malfoy!' Harry choked, scandalised.

Draco scoffed delicately in reply and stood. Harry followed, stumbling to his feet and wondering jealously how the Slytherin could be so graceful even after just waking up.

'Er,' Harry said, 'you're still wearing my robes.'

Draco glanced down. 'Hm,' he said. 'That probably wouldn't go over very well with the rest of the Slytherins, now would it?'

'Er,' Harry said again, noncommittally and nervously, watching as Draco shrugged out of the Gryffindor robes. 'Thanks,' he said, accepting them and bringing them surreptitiously past his nose as he threw them on. He hoped Draco either didn't notice or didn't care that he was breathing him in. He blinked and realised that Draco had begun the ascent to the castle. 'I didn't picture you as a morning person,' he said conversationally as he caught up.

'I'm not,' Draco said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 'Then again, I don't usually find myself next to Harry Potter in the morning.'

Harry bit his lower lip. 'Did it scare you?' he asked, looking down at his shoes, wet with dew or rain or both.

He chuckled, low in his throat. 'A bit, I suppose. But...' he shrugged.

'What?'

Draco leaned over, his shoulder knocking playfully into Harry's. 'But you do have a rather stimulating effect on me,' he said, coughing politely, 'so I imagine it wasn't all terror.' He glanced over and Harry was still looking down but he was grinning; the wide, bashful, contagious one that appeared whenever he was so happy he couldn't repress a goofily triumphant smile.

'Well, that's good,' Harry said, trying in vain to stop smiling like an idiot.

'I certainly think so,' Draco said, feeling a responding smile spread across his own face.

They walked in silence to the doors of the castle, both suppressing shivers from the cold morning air. Draco reached for the hefty doorhandle, but Harry snatched his hand away.

'If we walk in together,' Harry said, looking bashfully down at Draco's hand in his own, 'they'll assume...'

Draco smiled. 'What?' he asked. 'That we spent the night outside writhing in the throes of passion?' He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Harry's. 'That's not too far from the truth, you know.'

Harry's mouth went dry. 'And you don't mind as long as it's the truth?'

He stood straight and looked thoughtfully at the castle doors. 'I suppose not,' he said. 'My father's dead--or close enough--and my mother certainly can't do anything about it.' He turned to Harry again, cocking an eyebrow. 'And you don't have parents. Your aunt and uncle would just call you an awful, unnatural sodomite and kick you out of the house, which you want anyway.'

'Um, true,' Harry said, feeling another irrepressible smile coming on.

'On the other hand, maybe it would be better not to let them know that you're a degenerate sodomite. It would be hilarious to keep everyone guessing, don't you think?'

Harry goggled at him. 'Don't say it like that!' he said, torn between outrage and laughter.

'What?'

'"Degenerate sodomite."'

'Well, you are my degenerate sodomite. Does that make it better?'

'Doesn't that make you a degenerate sodomite?' Harry asked, peering at Draco carefully.

Draco scoffed. 'Don't be stupid, Potter. It makes me an equal-opportunity lover.' He leaned forward to quickly kiss away any retort Harry would have for him. 'Did you know that you taste like citrus?'

'Do I?' Harry said, feeling his knees go a bit weak.

He pressed his lips together absently. 'Oranges, I think.'

'I drink a lot of orange juice,' Harry said and watched, mesmerised, as Draco's teeth grazed his lower lip in thought.

'Go to breakfast and drink more. I'll see you tonight. Now keep them guessing--Potter,' he sneered.

Only Harry was able to see past the sneer in those grey eyes as Draco yanked open the doors and shoved him inside.

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