Hear No Evil

Why doesn't he say anything? Oh, so close now. Damnation! You don't know what it's like, Potter! To be in love, not only with a bloke, but with your sworn enemy...

Harry took a sharp breath. A strange squeaky noise escaped him, and he could feel tears sting behind his eyes. After all this time, he could've never hoped for... 'Oh I know what it's like, Malfoy,' he said, voice quavering. 'I know all too well.'

~*~

Malfoy's face went blank. What?? What is he talking about?

Harry realized that this was probably the last thing Malfoy had expected him to say. 'What I'm talking about is...' Suddenly he had a hard time continuing. He wasn't even really sure what he was trying to say, himself. 'I'm talking about... about... this. Us.'

'What??' Malfoy blurted, a storm brewing in his eyes. 'Don't make fun of me, Potter! I bloody well didn't ask for this, I hate it, and I hate you, and for heaven's sake let go of me this second or I swear I'll pull one of the Unforgivables on you.' And yes, believe me, I would! I'd kill you, Potter! If only I didn't care so bloody much...

Harry staggered back. Malfoy's words felt almost like physical blow to him, and the fact that his thoughts still contradicted everything he'd said so far didn't help much. He wanted so desperately to explain, to tell Malfoy of the months and months of dreaming but never even hoping, of the slow discovery, that he no longer hated his enemy, of the many secret fantasies he'd entertained, all featuring the boy standing in front of him now as the star. Of how incredible it had been to hear Malfoy think, earlier this day, the same kind of things Harry had thought about him for so long now. But looking at Malfoy's silent, fury-wrought face, he couldn't. He didn't even know where to begin, let alone how to make it all sound, somehow, not ridiculous.

It was as if the both of them were caught in a trance for the merest of moments, just staring at each other, not knowing what to say, or whether to even speak at all. But then Malfoy started, and moved to leave. Suddenly the past months, that had weighed so heavily on Harry's heart, screamed at him to do something, to not let this moment pass without having seized it. Only half-realising what he was doing, Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and spun him around to face him again. Before Malfoy could protest, Harry slammed his mouth against the other boy's. Their lips met in a frantic hunger, and the kiss felt unlike any - no, better than any - Harry had ever experienced before. Malfoy seemed too stunned to respond for a split second, but then his mouth opened to Harry's probing tongue, and his fingers circled around the fabric of Harry's robe as he pulled him closer.

Yes, oh Merlin, yes! In this breathing, even their thoughts were in tune.

The moment seemed to stretch out beyond the infinite, but then the end of classes bell sounded, and both let go of each other at the same time. Panting, Harry stared at Malfoy. His hair, which Harry had unconsciously tousled in the heat of their kiss, was a bit of a mess, and his normally pale cheeks shone with a delicious blush. The grey eyes pouring into his seemed darker, like cool lakes in the night. Malfoy looked altogether beautiful, and Harry wanted nothing more than to run off someplace quiet and continue their snogging.

But Malfoy's thoughts were different. As the lakes in his eyes cleared and became grey snow again, his thoughts were again a jumble. Oh! What have I done? I just snogged Potter! And it felt... like all I ever wanted. Oh hell, what if Father ever finds out? What if anybody finds out? What if anybody sees us??' 'Potter,' said Malfoy, his voice a panicked whisper. He furiously tried to smoothen his rumpled robes. 'I've got to go. Don't... don't tell anyone about this.'

The latter came out sounding like a plea, and Harry, who was not used to getting any requests from Malfoy, was taken aback. 'What, do you think I'm mad?' he snapped. 'Do you think I'm proud of this? Of course I won't tell anybody.' Oh, he could see it now. He could hardly imagine his friends' shock and indignation if they were ever to find out that he fancied... that he was in love with Malfoy. That he had snogged Malfoy! And that he wanted to do it again, so badly.

At this, Malfoy grinned, regaining his regular disdainful posture. 'Why would I think you're mad, Potter? You only just snogged your worst enemy.' Yeah, and I kissed him back. The thought seemed to bring Malfoy back to his current state of slight despair, although he managed to keep sneering at Harry. Please don't let anybody find out, ever. Without speaking another word, Malfoy turned around and stalked off in the direction of the dungeons.

Harry wanted to call after him, but then thought twice, and instead kicked the wall. 'Bloody hell,' he thought. Malfoy was even more difficult a person to deal with than he had ever imagined when things had still been normal between them. Or well, normal, things had never been remotely close to being normal between them, of course. The enmity that had started the second time they met, during their first ride on the Hogwarts Express, had become a big part of Harry's life at Hogwarts.

Somehow almost everything he did in school always came back to having something or other to do with Malfoy, most of the time accompanied by many insults on both sides, and sometimes resulting in physical fights or duels. However, when for once something other than animosity existed between them, Malfoy turned out to be even more harder to talk to than normally. 'I bet he's impossible to live with,' Harry thought to himself. He couldn't stop a happy grin from spreading across his face at the idea of living with Malfoy. Turning back to the stairs, he began the climb back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind mulling over the past few months, and how they had so unexpectedly come to this smashing conclusion.

He wasn't sure when exactly he had begun to see Malfoy in a different light. There was no pin-pointing the moment, but he did remember well the instant he'd become aware of the change in his feelings about his enemy. It had been about three months ago. It was a stormy day in early October, the wind howling around the castle all day, now and again flinging bouts of rain and hail at the windows, and they had been back at Hogwarts for their sixth year for some seven or eight weeks.

Harry was walking down one of the corridors on the first floor, and Malfoy had walked in from the opposite side. In a way, Harry realised, it had much resembled the scene in the hallway earlier. Slytherin Quidditch practice had been broken off halfway on account of the wind growing too strong, and Malfoy was still in his Quidditch robes, hair messy and face sweaty from fighting the wind in the sky. It was a rare occasion to see Malfoy not looking impeccable, and even as he walked down the corridor, Harry had thought it vaguely charming. As Malfoy approached, Harry caught his glare, which seemed filled with more venom than Harry was used to from him. Usually the cold, despising stares were Malfoy's, and the hot looks-that-could-kill were Harry's reply, but this time it was Malfoy whose gaze was steaming with hate. Harry had braced himself for the inevitable gibe, but it never came, and instead Malfoy had turned his face away as Harry brushed past him. Their arms briefly touched, and it was the body contact that jolted Harry. Suddenly it all became clear. Oh my god, I'm attracted to Malfoy!

The weeks before, things had already changed slightly on Harry's part, but he hadn't never acknowledged it before. Yes, he had stared at Malfoy a lot, and more often than not had received vicious looks in return, but didn't they always keep an eye on each other, to figure out what malice the other was planning? The moment in the corridor, however, had made it all clear. Malfoy, with his collected pose, his slender figure, the blond hair, now worn more loosely than in the past, but still always thoroughly styled, and the grey eyes that never said too much, Malfoy had become the object of his affections.

Now Harry wondered, had Malfoy perhaps felt the same, that day in the corridor after his team's Quidditch practice?

In the beginning he had just thought it was purely physical. Yes, it had been shocking to discover he liked boys, and of all boys at Hogwarts, his worst enemy, at that, but after a few sleepless nights considering the situation, Harry had decided that as long as no one knew about it, he would be fine. It was just a stupid fantasy, after all.

In the meantime however, Harry began relishing his confrontations with Malfoy. It allowed him to be close to his enemy, to flight every taunt back at him until those cold eyes grew hot with emotion and the perfect lips twisted in rosy frustration. Sometimes when he was really bold, Harry would dare to take a step even closer, seemingly to challenge Malfoy, but secretly just to be able to be so close to him, that would a split second he could imagine what it would be like to kiss Malfoy, now, and to force those lips to respond to him with something other than words meant to hurt him.

Malfoy had always recoiled. He had pretended to not want to be too close to Harry because he found him disgusting, but now, Harry wondered if Malfoy had maybe already begun feeling the same. And if so, had his feelings scared him as much as Harry's had scared him in the beginning?

What Harry had thought to be a mere fantasy, that would pass with time, had proven to be rather persistent, lasting well over three months now. But as much as dared to indulge in his secret glances at Malfoy over time, Harry had never, ever expected Malfoy to feel anything different than pure and sole hate for him, let alone return his feelings the way he had this afternoon.

'And now what?' thought Harry, as he stepped into the Gryffindor common room and flopped down into one of the big burgundy easy chairs by the ever burning fire. Malfoy seemed to feel the same way as he did, and he had obviously enjoyed their kiss as much as Harry had, but then he had fled the corridor, leaving Harry alone and, once again, confused to no end.

It was clear to Harry that he would have to talk to Malfoy again, but he wasn't sure when, or where. Also, Malfoy's thoughts had sounded positively terrified when he had considered the possibility of his father finding out about their kiss. Harry knew from first-hand experience that there was hardly a limit to Malfoy Senior's evilness, and he felt for Malfoy, having to live in fear of his dad. 'What?' Harry thought, stretching his legs to move closer to the fire. It was the kind of cold February day when the sky is so crisply clear that everything on the ground freezes underneath it. 'Now I'm even feeling sorry for Malfoy?' Maybe he cared more than he had dared to admit to himself before.

Just a few minutes later the first Gryffindors came into the Tower, and as the common room began filling up the mix of thoughts and voices in the room became a true cacophony, reaching a peak right before dinnertime. Harry couldn't even imagine being in the Great Hall with all four houses in this state, so Ron and Hermione brought him his food in the tower again, and Harry went to bed early with a splitting headache. The pain brought his attention fully back to his current problem, from which Malfoy had been a more than pleasant distraction. 'Merlin, I hope Snape hurries up with this damn antidote,' sighed Harry, as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Four hours later, he was still wide awake. Halfway this period he had opened his eyes again to stare at the dark, thick curtains above him, tainted with specks of faint moonlight from the nearest window. The sounds of thoughts around him had quieted down as people had gone to sleep. Thankfully he couldn't hear dreams, on top of everything. Harry was sure he wouldn't be able to deal with any dreaming from Ron, as he was now sure they most likely featured Hermione in a leading role. It was disturbing enough to hear the small, sleepy sounds Ron made as he tossed and turned - and dreamt.

Harry heaved yet another sigh. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight. He felt utterly restless and Malfoy was still very much on his mind; in fact, the Slytherin hadn't left his thoughts since the moment they had met in the corridor and he had heard those surprising and enticing thoughts. It was as if he could still feel Malfoy's lips on his, his tongue alternating between soft exploration and rough claiming, and he couldn't help imagine what might have happened if the bell hadn't sounded, if they had been some place else, some other time. If they hadn't been Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, arch-nemesis, and realising it all too well. Without really thinking too much about where he was going or what he was going to do, Harry slipped out of bed, put on his robes quietly and, grabbing the invisibility cloak, stepped through the portrait hole into the dark corridor.

~*~

Draco lay awake in bed, staring up at the silver Slytherin emblem set in the jade curtains that covered his four-poster. Silver moonlight poured in through the only window in the room, but it wasn't real, for the dungeons didn't really have windows, and the moon shone white tonight. Still, the silver matched the green ornaments around the room, making for a perfectly matched Slytherin decoration.

Draco liked perfect matches. His velvet robes always matched the silver and green diamond rings on his fingers perfectly. His light hair matched his pale, smooth complexion, and the look in his eyes always matched the way his mouth was set, no matter what the expression.

What he didn't like, was falling in love with Harry bloody Potter, creating the most imperfect match imaginable. Again, Draco cursed himself for letting things come this far, for giving in to his feelings the way he had, and for having those feelings to begin with. It was all he'd been doing ever since he had got back from his encounter with Potter in the Charms corridor, and much like what he had been doing the past few weeks - or where they months, already?

Draco couldn't tell when exactly he had begun to notice that he had somehow, in some cursed tricked way of the universe, become attracted to Potter. He just knew that at some point he had realized he was having these... thoughts... about his worst enemy, and that there was nothing he could do to stop them. Oh, he had tried. He had tried to ban Potter from his mind, but it had been really hard to do because Potter was always there. Always there to annoy him some more, to be taunted by him, cursed by him, and now- lusted after by him.

Draco had taken up with Pansy, again, in order to push any and all thoughts of Potter besides the ever-present and required hatred, from his mind, but that had not helped any, either. He still caught his breath whenever he laid eyes on Potter, still had to struggle not to blush when he heard Potter's deepening voice throw insults at him, and still couldn't help breaking out in a sweat whenever Potter stepped up closer to him, breaching the distance between them. When taking Pansy, all he had seen in his mind was Potter, lying under him, moving with him. Coming for him. Pansy's squeaks had broken the fantasy, so he had broken up with her within three weeks time.

He had soon realized that there was no way to stop himself from wanting Potter, and it had frustrated him immensely. In the end, however, he had come to accept it somewhat, figuring that the feelings would pass with time. Just as long as no one would find out, he could entertain his private fantasies while waiting for things to go back to normal. Draco was used to getting what he wanted. He prided himself upon it, upon the Malfoy family value, that a Malfoy always gets what he wants. But in this case, things were different. As much as he wanted Potter, he at the same time knew that he could never have him, and because of that, should never want to have him. The shame would be unendurable, and his father's wrath, if he ever found out how his son felt about his enemy, would be unbearable. And besides, the thought alone that Potter would find out, what horrifying enough in itself. No doubt Potter would use it against him relentlessly, Draco had thought, making him the shame of Slytherin. No, no-one could ever know how he felt about The Boy Who Lived.

But now, someone knew. Potter, himself, knew how Draco felt about him. The moment the Weasel kid had told Draco that Potter could hear what he was thinking, Draco had been far too aghast to disbelieve him. And soon enough after, it had been clear enough to him that it was true, that Potter could indeed hear his thoughts. His thoughts about him...

Draco had expected Potter to ruin his life right there and then, by telling everybody around that Draco had just been thinking about checking out his ass. To his surprise, Potter had covered for him. The hours that followed the incident all he had been able to think about was why Potter had done this. Had it just been some act of Gryffindor chivalry? And if so, how long would Potter's friendly mood last? How long until all of Hogwarts knew...?

And then there had been the moment in the Charms corridor. Draco had never in his life expected Potter to do what he did. Potter had returned his feelings, had proclaimed to feel the same. He hadn't believed the Gryffindor, of course. How could he have? It was insane enough that he had somehow fallen for Potter, but to think, even for one instant, that Potter could feel the same about him was simply preposterous.

Draco's mind fluttered back to the kiss. That kiss had changed everything. The way Potter's lips had felt on his, the way their tongues had played and fought. The way their senses had been so perfectly attuned to each other, and the way their bodies, even through their thick winter robes, had fit so well together. Maybe, Draco thought, they were a perfect match, after all. No one had ever been on the same level as him except Potter. No one had ever even come close to being... good enough to be his enemy. But Potter was. He had been Draco's worst enemy right from the start. For every taunt, Potter had a retort, for every action, a counter-action, for every brilliant Quidditch move, Potter still managed to beat him to the Snitch, and for everything Slytherin, Potter was the ultimate Gryffindor. And now there was more, and they seemed so... perfectly matched.

'Just as long as no-one finds out,' Draco thought to himself, fear gripping him slightly as he thought of his father. Without really considering where he wanted to go, Draco slid out of bed, pulled on his robes, grabbed his wand and headed out the Slytherin dungeon.

~*~

They met each other in the corridor below the stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower. It could hardly be called a coincidence. The Tower was a favorite place for students to come in the middle of night, to either muse or snog, and Harry secretly hoped that in their case, it would be both.

'Draco!' he called softly, when he saw the other boy begin to climb the stairs. Draco startled so badly that he almost fell backwards off the second step. Pulling the invisibility cloak off, Harry realized he had startled himself somewhat, too. 'Oh my god,' he thought. 'I called Malfoy "Draco".'

Bloody hell! 'Potter!' Draco snarled, the shock still visible in his face. 'Don't ever sneak up on me like that again.' Nearly gave me a heart-ache, idiot!

'Sorry,' Harry mumbled. He could see now how greeting someone in a dark, deserted castle corridor at night while being invisible might not be such a good idea.

Draco stepped back down from the stairs. The moon was slowly disappearing behind a bulky cloud but the faint light that still shimmered through the window gave Draco an almost ethereal look. Harry wanted nothing more than to be close to him, and kiss those soft lips again.

'So, an invisibility cloak,' Draco stated, closing the distance between him and Harry. Taking hold of a corner of the cloak, he let the delicate material trickle through his fingers. I knew it. Back that day at the Shrieking Sack. I knew it was some kind of trick. He must've already had this, then.

Harry was about to say something to that, when he heard the humming tone of thoughts in the distance. 'Someone's coming,' he said urgently. 'Come here.'

Pulling Draco as close as possible, Harry threw the cloak over both of them. A rustle, and the hallway lay seemingly deserted again.

'How do you know? I didn't hear anything.' Draco looked at him defiantly, but his voice was a whisper nonetheless. So close, oh god, how am I supposed to resist him when we keep ending up so damn close to each other? A perfect match, indeed...

'Thoughts,' Harry responded, and Draco wasn't sure if Potter meant his or those of the person who was supposedly approaching them.

Harry's breathing grew more heavy as he felt Draco's body aligned with his. Almost automatically, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, his fingers spread out on Harry's back. 'If they find us we're--'

'Shut up,' Harry whispered, and proceeded to shut Draco up with a kiss.

Draco responded immediately this time. He had longed to kiss Harry again, and it was so hard to keep quiet while kissing him back. Their kiss was soft and enticing, and promising more, but they had to refrain from plundering each other's mouth the rough and desperate way they wanted to, for fear of discovery. Eyes closed, Draco softly sucked on Harry's upper lip, before he slipped his tongue inside. Flushing a little, Harry thought Draco must have a lot more kissing experience than him, and he wondered if Draco thought him any good at it. The answer came in the form of Draco's thoughts, and for once Harry truly appreciated being able to hear them. 'Hmmm, so good,' Draco thought, over and over as his tongue duelled with Harry's.

Preceded by his disturbing thoughts, down the corridor came Filch. Harry couldn't help feel somewhat disconcerted at having a second run-in with the caretaker today, but Draco's lips quickly distracted him from that thought.

'Could've sworn I heard something,' Filch thought, as he turned around and began walking back the way he came. 'Malicious students, sneaking around at all times of the night these days. No respect for curfews, no respect for their elders. No respect for me! If only I could have my cane again, I would teach them respect!'

Several more delicious kissing minutes passed until Harry felt it was safe to leave the protection invisibility had brought them. Reluctantly, he broke away from Draco for a moment to pull the invisibility cloak off them.

Looking up at Harry, Draco took a step back, a confused look entering his eyes again. What am I doing?

'Good question,' said Harry, his lips still tingling from their clash with Draco's. 'Draco, I know how you feel.'

'Calling me Draco now, Potter?' The remark made Harry flinch, but he pretended not to care. You know I want you. I want to be with you. But I can't. This is not a good idea at all. 'This... this isn't a good idea.'

'No, it's not,' replied Harry, voice rising. 'But you know what, Malfoy? Did you ever think that maybe it isn't an idea, at all? That maybe, this is something stronger, and that it will be there, between us, whether we want it or not? I know I never wanted this.'

'And you think I did?' Draco asked incredulously. 'Are you daft? How can you even say that, you pillock! If father found out how I feel about you, he would kill me.' And that would be literally.

Harry again felt a pang of sympathy for Draco. His father was truly awful, and Harry knew this better than Draco would ever know. At the same time however, Harry felt that he couldn't give up on this. Not now. Not while that which he had never even dared to dream - that Draco would return his feelings - appeared to be true. 'What if we keep it a secret?' Harry asked hopefully. 'No one has to find out. We won't tell anybody.'

'Do you think that's possibly?' Draco looked far from convinced. I wish we could be sure of it. Sure that no-one would find out.

Harry nodded firmly. 'No one has to know. And we could, well... see each other...'

The words came out so awkward. Harry cursed his own blundering. That Draco still seemed utterly composed, despite the kiss they had just shared and the heaviness of the discussion they were now having, didn't help. 'I mean, we could, you know, if you want to, um, meet up sometimes, until...'

'Until we both got this out of our systems and come to our senses?' Draco finished. I doubt I can ever get him out of my system. He's entrenched in it now. That kiss did it. Why did it have to be such a bloody good kiss? Why does he have to be such a bloody good kisser?

The words cut Harry, but Draco's thoughts softened the blow. 'Yeah,' he said, pulling Draco close again, 'until the day we come to our senses.' As their lips met again, Harry hoped that day would never come.

~*~

To be continued...