Watching

Thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Women they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean you'll know

You'll know

Draco was watching the game from the stand. He was surrounded by a sea of green and silver grey, Slytherins only supporting themselves. The rain was coming down in sheets and bucketloads, as though a river had fallen from heaven. The clouds were charcoal grey, and they were so low as to give the entire match a grey hue. Draco relished the bleakness of it all, accurately reflecting his mood. The match was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Red v Yellow. It was a tough choice for Draco to decide which he wanted to win. If either won they would represent a serious threat to Slytherin's chance of winning the title. If Hufflepuffs won they would at least be modest about it, Gryffindors being the opposite. He would never actually root for a team so nauseatingly subservient. Nevertheless, wanting Gryffindor to win was as close to social suicide as he was going to get. Watching the Weasley clan celebrate a second rate victory for weeks on end would not be pleasant.

Harry Potter had just performed a magnificent triple victory roll sixty feet up in the sky as Draco left the crowds, oblivious to the rain. There had never been any question about who would catch the snitch, the Hufflepuff seeker being no competition with the house having no serious replacement since Cedric's death. It was just a matter of if and when the Gryffindor chasers reclaimed the points required to let them win with a sufficient surplus to be a challenge for the Slytherin team in three weeks time.

Draco knew that Potter would be the centre of a hoard of deliriously ecstatic, screaming fans in five, four, three, two...

The sound wave hit him as he got to the main doors of the school. He carried on as though nothing had happened, and in truth, nothing had. Potter won the match. Woo bloody Hoo. Well there's a surprise, ladies and gentlemen call the press. No, really, because it was the first time he had ever done anything worthwhile on the pitch. That was why he had the fan base you know, all those hopeful screaming women who were holding out for a victory one day.

Draco wondered if Harry even realised just how empty the hopes of his fans and team-mates were. Did they care anymore that he had been a hero for sixteen years? They were waiting for him to win against the Hufflepuffs, against the Slytherins, against the Deatheaters, just as a lot of people were waiting for him to lose. Was Harry anything but a machine to most people any more? He was there for their benefit, not allowed the privilege of being human.

Draco settled himself down in the common room and waited for his minions (he couldn't really consider them friends).

Draco was getting tired for two reasons. One, because it was eleven at night and he was used to getting plenty of beauty sleep. Two, because since the others had returned to the common room that afternoon, they had sat and talked. And if there was anything more boring as listening to a handful of obtuse teenagers rehashing the same conversation ten times in one afternoon, Draco was yet to find it. He got up, wincing, at the seventh mention of tactics by Pansy and went to find a bathroom. What he needed more than anything was to lie down in a warm, comforting, deep bath. His companions ignored him. They were used to him by now leaving without a word of explanation.

The bath was clear, just how Draco preferred it. Bubbles were for children. He liked to have a huge pool of heated water just waiting for him to enter. The anticipation was almost as important as the bath itself. The room was dark, lit only by three candles positioned around the pool. The faint aroma of cinnamon had originated from a bottle of essential oil that Draco had brought with him, and was now being diffused across the room all the more rapidly by the warm water. The door of the bathroom clicked open, bringing in a wave of cold air that disturbed the patterns of the steam. Draco hurriedly got up and closed it, this time checking that he bolted it. Then he slowly started to undress himself, first removing shoes, socks and then robe. Every movement released more of the worldly troubles from his mind, making him perfectly at peace in the most calming of places. He folded his clothes by the pool and enchanted the towel with a heating charm, before laying it within hands reach of the side of the bath, wand beside it. He got into the pool with motions as fluid as the water surrounding him. The ripples rushing to the sides before returning back to him. The water was incredibly hot and, for a moment, he wished he'd entered more gingerly. He was glad his hair was slightly damp as it was cooling against his cheek. The warming scents combined with the soothing sound of water lapping in the dusky room were enough to relax his shoulders, allowing the tension in his body to abscond with the rippling water. He sighed and did not move again until the water surface had calmed. Such a sensual atmosphere should not have been wasted on one person alone, he mused, knowing that the person he would like to share this room, this time with, was not prepared to go along with the idea. He forced the thought from his head. This was not a time to think about what he couldn't have. In a serene situation such as this it was only fitting that he indulge in pleasant thoughts and breathtaking fantasies.

Harry's hair smelt like grapefruit, Draco knew from the amount of times they had gotten close during duels. He could smell it now, as he moved his hands below the water level. He breathed it in as he thought about running his fingers through it. His hands were rubbing across his skin, wishing they were Harry's, wishing Harry was there. He could feel Harry's hands running across his shoulders; feel his lips across his collarbone. He wanted him so much it hurt. He could taste Harry on the air, and it was the sweetest thing imaginable. His fingers drifted over sensitive skin and he bit his lips, imagining that, rather than his own touch, Harry had somehow managed to do this to him. The fiery sensation of his blood rushing within him, and the heat of the water around him, were sending him over the edge, he knew. He could feel the climax rising within him, but he didn't want this to end yet. He remembered the blinding green of Harry's eyes and the way he could pierce your soul with them. He remembered the shape of his body, tantalising and hidden under his robes. He wanted to feel the muscles of his chest and see Harry as stripped naked as he felt when those eyes looked at him. With a low moan, he climaxed, seeing Harry behind closed eyelids. The sound was something he couldn't have stopped. It was borne of the painful combination of relief and the intense longing that remained.

Draco had been in the bath for a blissful hour before he got up, dried and dressed. Replacing the mask of sardonic malice he wore day in day out, he closed the door behind him. This gave Harry the opportunity to remove the invisibility cloak and breathe the air freely without silk restricting his oxygen. Draco's scent was still present, borne on the air mixing with the aroma of cinnamon and ylang ylang soap. Harry wanted to gather the air and store it forever, occasionally opening the lid of the container to inhale it and appreciate its beauty. He settled for heating the water again and divesting his clothing before gently dipping his body into the water that Draco had left behind. This was about as close as Draco would ever let him get, so he might as well enjoy it.

Draco's skin was tingling with the cold outside the bathroom. Such sensitivity was invigorating and he felt more alive than he had done for some time. He found that the common room was empty when he returned, unsurprising since it was well past midnight. In the dormitories he discovered that the other boys in his year were asleep. He drew the curtains around his bed and placed a silencing charm to hide the snoring of Crabbe and Goyle. He removed his clothes and replaced them with silk pyjamas. There was little light, but enough for what he was going to do next. He felt a small pang of guilt at his nightly ritual, but it was worth it. He removed a small mirror from under his pillow and placed it on his knees, balancing it perfectly so he could still see his face clearly as his body was wrapped in the duvet. He tapped the rim with his wand and muttered the incantation protraho. The mirror's surface rippled like the bathwater he had just left and then returned to stillness, showing, not Draco's reflection, but the face of Harry Potter. He seemed asleep, happily at peace, and Draco smiled to see such a rare phenomenon. The mirror's glass zoomed out so Draco could see more than just his face. Draco breathed in sharply. Harry Potter was lying in the bath looking perfectly at ease. Draco recognised it as the bathroom he had just left. It was lucky he had gone when he did; he'd have hated a confrontation tonight. He wished he could watch further but it would be intruding on Harry's privacy. The poor guy got little enough of that as it was. With a sigh he flicked his wand and the charm ceased. He returned the mirror to its place and nestled his head down into the soft comfort of the pillow. As he fell asleep he mused on how odd it was that Harry should be so like him, and yet so different.

The next morning Draco awoke to silence. With the charm activated, curtains drawn and without windows in the dungeons he had no sense of what time it was, whether the sun was up or not. It was slightly disorienting and he decided that he should not do it again if he could help it. On opening the curtains his clock informed him that it was just gone eleven. This being a Sunday, it was a reasonable hour. He hurriedly dressed, not liking people to see him at anything other than his best. School robes were unnecessary and he wore a casual grey robe that was dark enough to stop him looking pasty, but grey enough to complement his eyes. These things were important and he had picked it specifically. Contrary to popular opinion Draco did not spend all that long on his hair in the morning. It was ten minutes maximum. He was adept at a controlling enchantment meaning he simply had to comb and charm.

As soon as he was ready he went up to the great hall to acquire coffee. The hall was buzzing with excitement. Draco slithered onto the bench next to Pansy at the Slytherin table facing the rest of the hall.

"What's the fuss?"

Pansy, gossip merchant, squealed. "You mean you don't know?"

Draco sighed inwardly. "Actually I do know, but I wanted you to tell me anyway, so you feel that you're an essential part of the group."

Sarcasm was lost on Pansy, she continued nonetheless. "Harry Potter did not go back to the Gryffindor common room after the match yesterday. He's been missing since yesterday afternoon and he's only just turned up again. Granger was having kittens, and Weasley's acting all parental with him now he's turned up."

Draco laughed. "Is that all?"

Pansy looked disappointed that he wasn't as thrilled with the news as the rest of the school. "Well yeah, Draco. He doesn't usually disappear. It might mean something."

"Like what? That he was kidnapped? That he's got a girlfriend? That he couldn't sleep?"

"Any of them."

"Well why don't you find out, Pansy. I'm sure the school would appreciate having such a master, sorry, mistress of secret revealing on the case."

"Do you mean that, Draco?"

"As much as I mean anything I say, Pansy."

"I think I might then."

The conversation ended, much to Draco's relief. He chanced looking over at Harry, who appeared to be sick to death of the chatter around him as well. Then time slowed down as it always did when Harry looked at him. Draco saw every little detail and recorded it for posterity. Harry looked at him, saw the amusement in Draco's eyes and rolled his eyes conspiratorially before smirking at the situation, inviting Draco to do the same by raising his eyebrow, and then went back to being harassed by Weasley.

Time sped up again and Draco found himself in desperate need of exhaling. Potter had looked at him, and acknowledged him, and smiled at with, with him, something. Did they just bond? Was this a monumental thing, or was it just a look? Draco was feeling the need to breath at an accelerated rate. What was Potter thinking? Did he think? Ever?

Draco finished the coffee and left the Hall, half skipping in delight, half running away so the universe could go back to normal.

He fled to the Quidditch pitch and sat on the front row of the Gryffindor stand. He looked around, distractedly. It was a perfect day. There were a few clouds in the sky, enough to make the Scottish morning air warm without the threat of rain. Sun beat down on the grass with such power that the clouds would disperse soon, and make the day hot without being stifling. He did not know how long he sat there, staring at the clouds, lost in thought. Eventually he was aware of a presence behind him. He turned to see Harry Potter sitting the row behind him, staring at the clouds just as Draco had been doing a moment before. Draco felt jealous for an instant. They were his clouds, he found them. Potter had no right to be looking at them. He dismissed these thought as preposterous.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry turned his head to look at Draco, almost affecting surprise at being spoken to. "I wanted to escape the people in the hall."

"Escaping again. Where did you go yesterday?"

Harry blushed and Draco was instantly curious. What was Potter hiding?

"I went for a drink in Hogsmeade."

"And?"

"And nothing. That's it. I stayed out all night."

Draco frowned, knowing this to be untrue. But he was hardly going to say that out loud. Instead he went back to looking at the clouds. They stayed there for almost an hour, silently contemplating the sky, neither wanting to break the peaceful silence. Harry lay over the bench whilst Draco remained sitting.

Eventually, getting up, Harry sighed. "I have to go and do my Transfiguration homework."

Draco nodded, acknowledging that he was actually listening. "Is it on animate into inanimate?"

"No, we did that back in December. It's on Fundamental Shifts."

Draco turned around in astonishment.

"But we did that in September. How can you only be starting that now?"

"She's put all the houses in the year on a circular curriculum. The theory is that we won't be able to work together."

"That's ridiculous. It just means that at the beginning of the year we won't be able to get help. After that we can borrow between houses."

"I know."

"And whoever got Concepts of Transfiguration in Motion first had the entire year so much easier than anyone else."

"It was Hufflepuffs," said Harry wryly.

"Bloody typical."

Harry nodded, and Draco froze.

"Did we just agree on something?"

"Erm...yes?"

"Wow."

There was a pause before Harry asked.

"What happens now?"

"Well...I'll go and get my Transfiguration notes and meet you in the library and we can work."

"Okay."

"And after that..."

Harry looked at him expectantly and Draco got a little annoyed.

"Hey, you do some thinking here. I've done enough."

Harry looked at him blankly and Draco considered giving up then and there. Perhaps he was just the same as everyone else. He knew this wasn't true, just as he knew that he would never seriously consider giving up every hope he had for the dark haired boy facing him.

The library was bustling with students, each working studiously, each wishing they'd written the essay when they were given it three weeks ago rather than the day before it was due in. When Draco got there Harry was sat at a table, surprisingly free of other pupils. Being a hero clearly did have advantages. Harry was looking through his notes, which, even from the door, Draco could tell were scruffy, messily written and virtually unintelligible. He sat down next to Harry, causing everyone in the library to pause and look at them in disbelief, before hurriedly getting on with their work before either boy noticed. Harry smirked at their reactions.

"Do you think anyone had a heart attack?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Obviously your friend, Weasley, isn't here."

"He's going through tactics with the rest of the Quidditch team in the common room."

"Don't you have to be there?"

"I get time off for good behaviour. Besides, Seekers work alone."

Draco nodded and spread his notes across the table. Harry looked at them admiringly.

"Your work's really neat," he marvelled.

"Unlike yours. What does that even say?" Draco pointed to a sentence half way down the page Harry had been reading. At least he assumed it was a sentence. It was a long trail of ink with three blotches that travelled the width of the page. If someone had hexed a snail to trail ink instead of slime and set it slithering across a page it would look something like Harry's writing.

"Erm... "Shifts in natural... queens require...honey"?"

"Well you learn something new everyday. Are you actually expecting to pass any exams this year?"

"Well I figure I'll just bribe a few administrators, save a couple of markers from death and torture, kill a handful of Dark Wizards. You know the usual, and they'll be more inclined to give me good marks."

Draco laughed.

"Well just in case, how about you copy out my notes sometime, just in case you don't find enough Dark wizards to kill."

"If you insist, but if I run out I'll just start on Slytherins. No-one will know the difference."

Draco frowned, but only slightly. "Don't push it, Potter. I'm very protective of my Slytherins."

Harry nodded, smiling, and they settled down comfortably to work. Incidentally, there were no heart attacks but two Hufflepuffs did feel a little faint and one Gryffindor had to leave the room due to the rising bile in her throat. One Ravenclaw, who had previously been in an alternate dimension, entered the room through a quantum tunnel, and saw the boys sitting there. Thinking that she had in fact not returned to her own dimension, she left for another. She had not, as yet, returned.

Draco's heart was thumping wildly as he waltzed back to the Common room that evening. They had spent hours studying, talking, getting along. It was incredible, since warning Harry not to be glib about his house, there had been no conflict and they had been talking like old friends. Draco wondered, once the boundaries had been defined, would there be anything to prevent them getting closer? He scooted into the common room, totally oblivious to the unfriendly silence. He managed to get to the door of his dormitory before his brain kicked in and he stopped, reversed and turned to look at the people on the sofa's, who were still looking at him threateningly.

"Erm...what's up with you?"

Pansy stood up confrontationally. "You've been hanging around Potter."

"Well done, Pansy. You're observational skills are indeed everything I expected them to be."

"We don't like it. What the hell do you want to be with him for? Do you want to join his little group of mudbloods and muggle-fuckers?"

Draco stared at her. It was a good stare; he'd practiced it in the mirror for years. It was making Pansy feel increasingly alone and without support. Draco waited until she sat down before speaking.

"I am indeed getting acquainted with Harry. If any of you seriously have a problem with this then I suggest we settle this traditionally. You have a problem with me; you challenge me to a duel."

There was silence. A lot of Slytherins might be stupid, but every animal has an inborn instinct concerning not wanting to die.

Draco smirked. Blaise stood up and tried to calm everyone down.

"We would just have preferred to have been warned, is all. It might take some getting used to."

Draco looked at Blaise, then around the room. "Consider yourselves warned."

He waited for the nods from around the room before striding out, confidant that they would accept what he had said and that his position of power was uncontested.

He was glad there was no-one in the dormitory, as he always liked having privacy and the quiet that came with it. He reached for the mirror under his pillow and waited until the scene of Harry's current position in his dormitory with Ron had revealed itself.

"Look, Ron, I'm not going to argue about this with you. I am entitled to make my own decisions sometimes, you know."

"Harry, it's Malfoy. What the fuck did you think you were doing? You were seen in the library acting like he was your best mate or something"

"Don't be absurd. You are my best friend, everyone knows that. Draco is...he's something else." Harry's voice had softened as he was thinking about Draco, something that enraged Ron further.

"Well what is he, Harry? What is Draco to you?"

Harry was getting angry. "He's someone that treats me as more than just a Quidditch player or a tool for winning a war, Ron. And it's not like I get a lot of that these days, so excuse me if I appreciate it."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Are you saying that's all we are to you? Me, Hermione, my family; are we just groupies in your eyes?"

"No Ron, I mean everyone else."

"Well it's your choice to date those girls, not ours. Don't blame us for your relationship mistakes."

"Ron, it's not like that. I don't resent them for wanting to be with The Boy Who Lived, but they make me feel cold, dead. I don't want them anymore. I don't think I ever really did." Ron was oblivious to how upset Harry sounded.

"So what are you saying? That you want Draco for a boyfriend?" Ron was trying to be sarcastic, but Harry sighed seriously considering the question. It didn't look like the first time he'd thought about it either.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"It just proves that you do want him over us."

"No it doesn't. Come on, Ron. If I told you that I fancied you, would you feel happy about it or would you go all uncomfortable?"

Ron didn't speak, only glare. Harry's voice turned pleading.

"Ron. You're like a brother to me. And he could never take that place. Don't push me away, please."

Ron looked a little sickened. "I'm going to have to think about this."

"Oh really," Harry said, his voice becoming acidic, "Well while you think about my life for me, I'm going. Once you've gotten over your ego trip, perhaps you might actually like to talk to me like a civilised person." With that he stormed out of the Gryffindor area of the castle and walked swiftly away.

Draco stood up swiftly and walked for the door, oblivious to the sound of the mirror shattering where he dropped it on the floor. He didn't need it any more anyway. He was done watching; now he was so close to having the real thing. He ran through the common room and out into the castle, towards where he had last seen Harry. He ran up three flights of stairs and had to pause for breath, before walking swiftly through the trophy room. He was about to go down a corridor when he paused and saw Harry Potter walking equally quickly towards him.

"Harry..." Draco started to speak, to calm him down, but Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and at the same time as pushing him against the wall, he pressed his lips violently against Draco's. Draco opened his mouth eagerly, tasting the mixture of anger and lust on Harry's tongue. He groaned softly; even with the pain and intense pressure, it was the most wonderful sensation. He pushed his own tongue further into Harry's mouth. Harry moaned and opened his mouth wider, trying to get more access. Harry was still forcing his body against the wall with his own, as his hands came down to Draco's sides, trying to move under his shirt. Draco's own hands, now released from Harry's grasp, were running through Harry's hair, further destroying any semblance of neatness to it. The kiss was hot, fiery and passionate, and when they finally broke away from each others mouth, both were breathing heavily, with flushed red cheeks.

"Don't say you didn't want that, Malfoy, or I swear I will do something I'll regret." Harry was so angry and yet so pleading, looking like he was about to cry that any glib answer that instantly came to his lips died. Instead he touched Harry's cheek softly and muttered, "I didn't here only you moaning just then, did you?"

Harry closed his eyes, and Draco carried on moving his hand across Harry's cheek, temple and forehead, before dropping it down to his neck. On contact with the skin just behind his ear, Harry shuddered and leaned in for another kiss, instinctively knowing where Draco's mouth was. Draco was all to willing to accede. This kiss was slow, soft, gentle, and nothing that Draco had ever expected Harry to be capable of. Throughout their lives, their relationship had been a passionate one, either fierce hate or intense longing. But both had clearly wanted something else and it seemed that the kiss said a lot more than could be given credit to a lot of wordless exchanges. It was filled with just as much passion, as well as something deeper, and left them both breathless again.

Harry opened his eyes, and gave Draco a radiant smile. "You know," he said shaking his head at his own folly, "We must be crazy. We're meant to hate each other, remember?"

"Do you hate me?"

Harry shook his head. "I was watching you leave the match on Saturday and through the rain it all came clear. I didn't hate you for making me feel this way any more, I just wanted to get close enough to change how you felt about me."

Draco smiled. "Well that turned out to be unnecessary, didn't it?"

Harry frowned suddenly. "But what about your friends? Won't they feel betrayed? God knows mine do."

Draco shook his head, indifferently.

"Let them watch."