The Plan

The first thing that Draco was aware of as he came into consciousness was that he was warm, which was rare. He did live in the dungeons after all, and even with a fire the dungeons were a chilly place to be. Not that Draco was complaining or anything. The next thing he was aware of was how comfortable he was. Being comfortable in the dungeons was even less likely than being warm, but Draco really didn't want to think about why he was so warm and comfy. Finding out why he was so comfortable might mean he had to move, and to be honest, he really didn't want to. No, Draco would much prefer to just stop thinking, to snuggle into the arms that held him and drift off to sleep.

And that was how Draco came to his third realization in as many minutes. There were indeed arms around him, and in his half-sleep, he had not a clue as to who they belonged to. This thought shattered the last thoughts of sleep that he had, and he opened cautious grey eyes to stare into the face of one Harry Potter, which was less than an inch from his own.

"Gaaaah!" Draco shrieked, pushing Potter as far away from him as he possibly could, realizing as he did that one of his arms was rather numb and vaguely wondering why. Bloody Potter must have slept on it he thought, glaring at said Potter as he blinked quickly, trying to get the bleariness out of his eyes. He glanced up at the fuming Draco questioningly, and said, "Wha' happen?" in a sleep filled voice, which Draco did not find cute at all.

Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter exactly what happened, then shut it with a snap. He figured he could do one of two things: he could freak out on Potter about the way he'd been holding Draco, consequently starting yet another argument which may or may not result in a rape comment, which in turn would most certainly wind up with Harry's violent side putting in another appearance; an appearance which would more than likely also cause Draco's dead side to appear. Or, Draco could keep his temper, not mention what he'd woken up to, and live to see the end of the weekend. Tough choice, that.

Tough choice or not, Draco made his quite quickly, and his reply to Potter was simple. "Looks like you fell out of bed, Potter," he lied smoothly. "You really should work on that."

Harry regarded him for a long moment, and Draco began to worry that he hadn't pulled it off; that Potter knew exactly what Draco was doing and was thinking of the best way to call him on it. Or worse, that his comment had activated Harry's recent short temper, and he was struggling with it as surely as Draco had struggled with his own anger not two minutes before. Deciding that holding the stare was the only way to keep his pride would be to keep his eyes locked with Harry's, no matter how much the other boy's stare unnerved him, he kept his eyes trained on Harry's impossibly green ones, telling himself that he didn't think those eyes were pretty. He was a Malfoy, after all, and a Slytherin to boot. How would it look if he were bested by a Gryffindor? Draco was quite satisfied with this logic, and it did not occur to him that there was no way that anyone would see or hear of what was going on at all the whole weekend.

With his resolve firmly in place, Draco kept his gaze locked on Harry, who did not seem at all ruffled--which you can imagine pissed Draco off to no end. The staring became more and more intense, and suddenly Draco was more than just a little nervous, he was terrified, and his pride didn't seem like such a wonderful thing after all. Finally, just as Draco was about to give in and break the stare, Harry broke out into a grin. Now, receiving a Genuine Harry Potter Grin was not an uncommon occurrence for most of Hogwarts, as just about every student and most of the Professors had seen the Grin, and therefore knew its effects. Draco however, had only ever seen it directed at someone else, and so did not experience the full volume of Harry's Charm and Charisma. Now, however, the Grin was directed at Draco, and if Draco had been a lesser mortal, he might have swooned. As it was he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open, and he dimly registered the amused delight in Harry's eyes as he noted this. Merlin, Draco thought helplessly, no wonder half the school's in love with Harry, if he smiles at them like that. He was completely stunned by how open Harry's face looked when he smiled like that...how he looked vulnerable and young and yes, Draco admitted to himself, beautiful.

Draco was so entranced by the Grin that he didn't notice Harry was speaking through it. When he did he glared. Malfoys do not get distracted by adorable messy haired Gryffindor boys whose smiles have enough wattage to light a room. It's simply not done.

With this in mind, he snapped, "Turn that thing down Potter, I'm not one of your pathetic little groupies." Never mind that he'd almost turned into one for a moment there. When Harry merely cocked his head to the side Draco snapped, "I'm serious Potter, I don't want to see it." A lie, but Harry didn't know that, and that was all that mattered, really.

Harry's smile still did not dim; rather, it brightened even more as he reminded Draco, "You said you'd call me Harry." Draco scowled. He was already addressing the Gryffindor as Harry in his head, he'd be damned if he actually called him that to his face. Rather than state that slightly embarrassing fact, Draco snapped, "I said I'd try, and I must say you're making it difficult, what with your breaking of your own promises and your personality, not to mention your stupid smile so would you please turn it down, Potter?"

The smile did more than turn down, it went out completely, and Draco found himself simultaneously wishing he'd never said anything and glad that what he'd said had caused such a reaction. Those two bits of his mind immediately launched into a heated argument, while a third, and much more amused, part of him was quite curious if after this weekend Draco'd be heading for St. Mungo's rather than the Slytherin dorms.

Draco was so busy trying to figure out when he became a schizophrenic that he didn't realize that once again Harry was speaking to him. Wow, Malfoy, you're really losing your touch, he mock-berated himself. Whatever would Daddy think? Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself, he turned his attention to Harry, ignoring the voices in the back of his head that were still arguing over whether or not he should have stopped Harry from smiling. The argument had gone from rational (as rational as schizophrenic voices can be, anyway), to childish, now mostly of the "Should not", "Should too" variety. No matter what Harry had to say, it had to be better than listening to those voices prattle on. "What did you say?" he asked, and Harry gave Draco an incredulous look.

"Do you ever listen?" he asked curiously.

Draco couldn't stop himself from saying, "Not to you," in his smarmiest voice. And then gave a small wince, preparing himself for the explosion.

He was rather shocked when Harry merely grinned--not the hundred watt Grin from before, but a regular one--and said, "Gee, and here I thought we'd made some headway."

With that, Harry moved to the table from the previous night, where a steaming breakfast was laid. Draco blinked in confusion, and Harry laughed. "Looks like you missed it yet again, hey Malfoy?" he asked, and Draco frowned.

"Oh, so now it's Malfoy?" he asked mockingly. "Whatever happened to Draco?" Draco was glad that the only thing that showed in his voice was the mockery. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was slightly upset that Harry had called him Malfoy. He rather liked the way that Harry had completely disregarded their old animosity whilst in this room, and truth be told, he didn't want Harry to start using his last name again, though he'd never tell the Gryffindor that.

Harry laughed again. "Well, I guess I figured it's just not fair, me calling you Draco all the time and you calling me Potter. Why should you get to hear your first name when all I get to hear is my last, and not even spoken attractively?" He waved a finger at Draco mockingly and continued, "There are only two people I know who can say my last name with such distaste. You, and Snape. Ever get any spit on you when cursing me to a fiery hell?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation, though he had to admit that there was something about the p in Potter that demanded spitting. He really couldn't help it; it just came naturally, as he assumed it did with Snape. Trying hard to keep from smiling, Draco rolled his eyes again, but the look on Harry's face was too much, and Draco burst out laughing. Harry gave him a mock glare, and Draco laughed even harder. "S-sorry Harry," he said through his laughter, "It's just that there's something about your name that...that...just says 'spit me out'!" with this Draco was once again off, and he laughed for a while longer before it tapered off into a string of mad giggles. Harry gave Draco a look that said clearly he thought the giggling boy was quite crazy. Draco returned the look for a moment before walking calmly to the table, sitting down, and starting to eat his breakfast. Harry gave him one more quizzical look before doing the same.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Harry suddenly looked up from his plate and grinned at Draco. "I just realized something," he informed the other boy with a smug expression. "You called me Harry earlier...and without flinching or anything! Careful Draco, you might just be starting to soften."

Draco scowled. "Not a chance, Potter," he snapped, "I am a Malfoy, and Malfoys do not soften." He made sure that he put as much disdain into that last word as possible, but it didn't matter, as Potter's grin only grew wider and more knowing. Draco glared as hard as he could, but it had no affect on Harry whatsoever. The staring competition from earlier resumed, and desperately Draco searched in his mind for something to wipe that smile off of Potter's face once and for all. Just as he was about to give up, something came to him, and he allowed a small smile to move across his own face, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow in speculation.

"Speaking of going soft, Harry..." he started, trailing off and watching in amusement as Harry's other brow rose at the deliberate enunciation of his first name, "Speaking of soft, did you think the floor was soft when you landed on it? From the look on your face it was anything but. Hurt, did it?" Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, and Draco's grin grew even wider. "You really should work on staying in bed, you know...sleeping on the floor all the time is a frightfully bad habit to have." Harry glared for a moment, then matched Draco's grin with one of his own.

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Snoring is just as awful, if you ask me." He gave Draco a significant look, and the blonde spluttered incredulously.

"I do not snore!" he yelled, furious beyond belief. Even though it's redundant to say so, Malfoys do not snore, and Draco took it as a personal insult that Harry would accuse him of something so crass. Seeing how indignant Draco was, Harry's grin grew even more delighted, and he nodded.

"And drooling," he added, and Draco's mouth dropped open indignantly.

"Okay, Potter, that is quite enough. I may admit that I snore...a little. Maybe. But that is where I draw the line. Read my lips, Potter: I. Do. Not. Drool. Got that? Good."

Harry just grinned at him, and Draco decided that he had never thought Potter looked good at all, and really, it was quite easy to think of him as Potter after all, and now he was laughing, and Draco decided that he really didn't care about his life so very much after all...what he cared about was wiping that smug smile off of Potter's face, which is probably why he snapped, "Snoring and drooling put aside, Potter, I'm not the one who has a fetish for snuggling my unwilling worst enemy after I'd promised not to do so." Draco was rather gratified to see the smug smile drop off of Harry's face, and he gaped openly at Draco, who felt that it was his turn to smile smugly, so he did. Now it was Harry's turn to splutter as he tried to figure out what Draco was talking about, and Draco sat back in his chair, waiting to bask in Harry's confusion.

So you can imagine his disappointment when Harry collected himself rather quickly, leaning back in his seat and mimicking Draco's smug smile. "So? What about it?' he asked calmly, and it was Draco's turn to lose the smile as Harry once again gained the upper hand. Draco was so absorbed with how quickly Harry had regained his cool to digest what he'd said, but once he did, he was pissed.

"'So?'" he screeched, standing up and glaring down at Harry as his voice picked up in volume and he graduated to full on ranting, complete with pacing and violent gestures. "That is so like you, Potter. You think that just because you're the fucking Boy Who Lived you can do whatever you please and that no one will call you on it? That you can run around and break rules and not get into trouble. Well you know what Potter? You can't do that to me. You can't just go and break a promise and then expect me to--"

By now, Harry was quite sick of Draco's tirade, and had jumped up. Getting right in Draco's face he yelled, "Malfoy, shut up!" Completely astonished, Draco shut up and stared at Harry, who looked positively furious. Draco was reminded forcefully of the day before, and he gulped, praying that Harry wasn't about to go all crazy on him again. Harry wasn't. Instead, he grabbed the front of Draco's nightshirt, yanked Draco's face right up to meet his own and whispered, "You know, Malfoy, you really shouldn't go around blindly accusing people of this kind of stuff; it may just backfire on you."

Draco stared at him incredulously, forgetting that a close Harry wasn't a good Harry with the wave of righteous anger that swept through him. "Blindly accusing you?" he demanded. "I hardly call waking up with you wrapped around me blindly accusing you!"

At this Harry nodded, as though he'd been expecting Draco to say something of the sort. "Fell out of bed, hmm?" he asked, and Draco felt his face heat up.

"I was shocked," he said defensively, then remembered why he'd thrown Harry out of the bed and rounded on the other boy again. "Don't try to make me feel bad about this Potter." He spat. "I was only reacting to you breaking your promise about not touching me. Getting shoved out of bed was your fault, not mine. If you had just kept your promise and stayed away from me, it wouldn't have happened." Draco jerked his shirt out of Harry's grasp and moved to a relatively safe spot across the room, glaring at Harry from there.

Harry was glaring right back. "First off," he said, "I never actually promised not to touch you. I said that the bed was big enough so that it didn't have to happen. Second, I wasn't the one who initiated the contact; that was you. I was perfectly fine sleeping on my side of the bed, when you start cuddling me like I'm your favorite teddy bear. Looks like you're the one with issues here Draco, not me. At the very least I can admit when I want something; I don't pretend to hate the very idea of being with someone and start cuddling that same person in my sleep. That's your issue."

Draco stared at Harry. His issue? Hardly. Draco didn't care what Harry said, there was no way on earth he had cuddled up to him, not even in his sleep. He may have thought the boy was attractive once or twice; he may occasionally find himself mesmerized by the color of Harry's eyes. Hell, he may even think that Harry was beautiful when he smiled, but there was no way, absolutely no way, that he would ever cuddle Harry. Ever. As you have probably guessed, Malfoys do not cuddle either, and Draco was as Malfoy as they come. Wasn't he?

Oh, he hated Potter. He hated him so much for making Draco question everything about himself. What he was, what he thought, and most importantly, what he felt. Potter was screwing with his head, and Draco hated him. Hated him.

Glaring at Potter with all he had, Draco allowed all his confusion and hate to pour through him in a torrent of words, desperate to make it all just stop, desperate to make Potter hate him again, desperate to understand.

"How dare you Potter. How dare you make me feel--how dare you do this to me, bring me here and expect me to just what? Be your best friend? Fall for you? Well I've got news for you: it'll never happen. Never. Do you hear me? Let me tell you something, Potter: I'm not gay, and if I were, I still wouldn't want you. Do you understand? I hate you, Potter. I hate you."

While Draco was letting out all this angst, Harry had stood still, stone-faced, not saying anything...not even moving. When Draco stopped, flushed and out of breath, Harry advanced, and intent look on his face. Noticing this, Draco's eyes widened, and he started backing away, growing steadily more uneasy about the expression Harry wore. Things continued like that for a few moments; every step Harry took forward, Draco took one back, not paying attention to where he was going until he felt his back touch the wall. Oh shit, Draco thought helplessly, knowing he'd backed himself into a corner. Shit, shit, shit. Harry was right in front of him, hands on the wall on either side of his head, making sure that Draco could not escape. Nervous and more than a little frightened of the determined look on Harry's face, Draco began talking.

"Look, Potter, don't take what I said too hard...I'm just trying to help you out. I mean...you should really pursue someone who wants to be in a relationship with you, you know what I mean? I'm sure there are plenty of guys here at Hogwarts who would love to shag you. I'm just not one of them, that's all." Harry moved a little bit closer, and Draco felt short of breath suddenly as his personal space was invaded.

Leaning down to whisper in Draco's ear, Harry said, "So, you don't want me, huh? Bet I can prove you wrong."

Draco gave Harry the most defiant glare he could muster at the moment--which, admittedly, wasn't much, considering he was feeling a bit lightheaded at the moment, though he couldn't imagine why--and snapped back, "No way, Potter."

Harry smirked. "Don't think so?" he murmured softly, breath just ghosting over Draco's ear, and Draco had to repress a shiver. He really didn't like where this was going...not at all.

He was tempted to just tell Harry that he occasionally found him attractive, just to get the other boy to back off, but once again the Malfoy pride won out and he said instead, "Of course not. You just can't accept defeat, can you? Can't just admit you're wrong? Well, this time you're going to have to, get it?" Draco started to say more, but Harry moved even closer, and pressed his body up against Draco's, letting the other boy feel every inch of him from legs to torso. Draco couldn't help it; he let out a small gasp, and arched slightly into Harry, gasping again at the intimate contact when their hips bumped. Harry grinned triumphantly, but instead of backing away, he ground his hips slowly into Draco's, causing Draco to let out a helpless little moan, as unable to stop it as he had been to stop the gasps from earlier. Harry's grin grew wider, but he didn't stop the motion; if anything he pressed even closer and ground his hips just a little harder, and this time both boys let out small moans at the friction, Draco opening his legs a little wider for comfort's sake and allowing Harry to slip between them.

Harry, taking this as permission, began moving against Draco even more urgently than before, and now Draco began moving with Harry, letting out little moans that turned into whimpers each time their hips met. The friction became more and more pleasurable until finally Draco couldn't take anymore, and he let his head fall back, clutching Harry's shoulders he forgot about Malfoy pride, forgot about everything as he begged, "Please..."

Harry leaned against him again, not trying to elicit a response this time but getting one anyway as once again the boy's hips knocked together. Draco groaned, deep in his throat, and said again, "Please."

Harry's answer was a small laugh, and then the whisper of air as Harry breathed the question into his ear, "So, Draco, want to tell me again how you don't want me?"

It was like a slap in the face. Suddenly, Draco was aware of what he was doing, and more importantly, who he was doing it with. Disgusted with Harry for pulling this stunt on him, and even more disgusted with himself for giving in so readily, Draco began struggling against Harry, the hands that had been holding his shoulders moments before now balled into fists that were trying desperately to damage Harry's face. For his part, Harry was dodging the blows pretty well; Draco would have admired his technique if he weren't so pissed. Harry let out a curse and Draco a triumphant yell as one of his fists smashed into the darker boy's face; a yell that turned into a cry of outrage as Harry, still cursing, stopped using his hands to trap the other boy against the wall and instead held him in place with his body, leaving his hands free to grab Draco's flailing fists. Draco was panting, and, he realized with some amazement, yelling his head off, letting out everything that had ever bothered him about the boy.

"God, Potter, you just cant take no for an answer could you? Oh, no, you just have to keep right on pushing, because if you want something, then everyone better just bow down and give it to you, probably on a silver platter. Well, guess what? This is one thing that you can't have, get it? This isn't a game, Potter; fucking around with my head is not a game. Why can you just admit defeat already? I am so bloody sick of you walking around Hogwarts, thinking you own it just because of some stupid accident that you couldn't even control. And do you know what the absolute worst thing is? That everyone else acts like you do, too." Putting on a high falsetto, Draco continued, pouring all his anger and hurt and jealousy into what he was saying. "Oh, look, it's Harry Potter, Boy With the Giant, Ugly Scar on his forehead! Let's worship him just because when he was a baby, Voldemort underestimated his parents! Can I have your autograph, o' wonderful savior of all we love? Saint Potter the Good, the Great, the Wonderful, the Mi-" Draco was abruptly cut off as a hand placed itself over his mouth, none too gently I might add, though in all fairness I should also point out that Harry had listened to quite a lot of Draco's furious ramblings that day, and by the looks if things, his self-control was fraying.

Just how much control it was taking for Harry to keep himself from possibly chopping Draco into little pieces and feeding him to one of Hagrid's beasts was evident in the dark haired boy's voice as he hissed, "You know what, Malfoy? You talk too much." And then the hand was gone, and Draco was going to tell Potter just what he thought of that little statement, oh yes, had opened his mouth to do so in fact, but then words really didn't seem to matter anymore as the other boy replaced his hand with his lips...and really, telling Harry what a stupid little ponce he wasn't so important after all, was it? No, not important at all really, Draco decided as Harry deepened the kiss; what was important was that Harry Potter was kissing the life out of Draco Malfoy, and that Draco was enjoying it immensely.

With this in mind, Draco began to kiss Harry back... tentatively at first, and then with more assurance. Harry let go of Draco's wrists and wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist instead, leaving Draco free to push Harry away, if he so chose. Draco thought vaguely that he should, so he raised his hands to do just that, but then Harry's mouth left his to trail kisses down his throat, and any thought that might have been in Draco's head abruptly vanished as he clutched Harry's shoulders, trying desperately to pull Harry closer. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, giving silent permission for Harry to do whatever he pleased with him. Harry grinned, and swirled his tongue in the hollow of Draco's throat. Draco let out a gasp, which quickly graduated into a full-scale moan as Harry grabbed his hips and ground against him once again. In that moment, Draco knew without a doubt that if Harry asked, Draco really would allow him to do whatever he pleased.

The thought scared the hell out of Draco, and all at once he felt suffocated. He began pushing frantically at the other boy's shoulders, almost sobbing with the sudden need to be as far away from Harry Potter as he possibly could. For a moment Harry's arms tightened around Draco's waist, and Draco had a moment of panic when he thought that Harry wasn't going to let go of him, that he was simply going to keep going and Draco would eventually give in, he knew that, and he really didn't want this, he wasn't ready, he didn't want to face what sleeping with Harry Potter would mean, he just couldn't---

Draco's thoughts abruptly cut off as Harry backed away, taking a good six paces before looking at Draco, face flushed and panting. Draco knew that his face was just as flushed and his breathing just as heavy as the other boys, and he was sure that the expression on his face was just as confused as the one Harry wore. Now that the other boy was no longer as close to him Draco was wondering what the hell he had been thinking. Why hadn't he pushed Harry away, why had he instead pulled him closer? And why oh why was a part of him wishing even now that he hadn't stopped Harry at all?

Harry was looking adorably ruffled, unfocused, eyes half glazed and visibly shaking. He blinked at Draco, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, obviously unsure what to say. Draco imagined the other boy was still unsure what had even happened to have him across the room, and despite his own turmoil he felt a small pang of sympathy for him. "You okay?" he questioned softly, and Harry seemed to shake himself out of it, looking at Draco and nodding, a half smile on his face.

"Yeah," he answered, voice husky, "just a little disoriented is all." He gave Draco a curious look. "What happened?" he questioned softly. "I mean, one minute you were...and then all of a sudden...headache?" He grinned and Draco rolled his eyes. Harry gave a small laugh, and then his expression turned serious. "Draco, I didn't...I mean, did I...Oh, hell." He ran a distracted hand through his hair, mussing it worse than usual and looking for all the world like a lost little boy, and Draco abruptly gave up trying to tell himself that he didn't find Harry Potter attractive. "What I'm trying to say is...well...did I force you? Is that why you freaked out?"

For a minute, Draco was tempted to say yes, just to keep himself from embarrassment, but the way that Harry was looking at him shocked him. The other boy looked almost desperate, and Draco remembered the way he'd reacted to the insinuation of rape. Draco knew that if he told Harry that he'd been forced into what had happened, it would hurt the boy immensely, and not quite to his surprise Draco found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he gave Harry his most reassuring look and said softly, "No, you didn't." Harry gave a small smile in return; a smile that quickly faded as Draco continued, "But it was a fluke, really. I mean, I'm not gay and--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Malfoy!" Harry cried and exasperatedly. "Give it a rest, alright? Are you still gonna pretend that you feel nothing? That you weren't enjoying what I was doing to you? What is it with you, huh? One minute you're moaning and begging--"

"I was not!" Draco denied hotly, lying through his teeth but unable to help himself.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and continued. "--and the next, you're over on the other side of the room, telling me that what happened was a fluke, that you aren't standing six feet from me wanting to continue when anyone with eyes can see the truth." His eyes skimmed over Draco's groin, and Draco's own eyes followed, mortified to realize that his current state of discomfort was very visible.

Blushing hotly, Draco turned from Harry's gaze, wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow him. It didn't, and as a last ditch attempt to salvage some pride, he snapped, "It means nothing, Potter. Enough friction will do that to any guy, regardless of where the friction comes from." Smirking, Harry walked past Draco to the bathroom.

When he reached the door, he turned back and said, "Well, I don't know about you, but all that friction put me in the mood for a very cold shower. Talk to ya later." Giving Draco a saucy grin, he shut the door behind him, leaving Draco alone.

Giving a small sigh of relief, Draco moved to one of the cushy chairs and sank into it, trying to ignore his discomfort and not think about what Harry might or might not be getting up to in the shower. He was just starting to relax when the shower door banged open. Startled, he looked up to see Harry Potter, chest bare and smirking in a way that Draco knew meant trouble. "Oh, and Draco?" he asked, and when Draco merely looked at him, smirked all the harder. "Maybe you should do something about that," he said, inclining his head toward Draco's pants and winking. With that said, he turned and walked back into the bathroom, leaving Draco, who felt himself inclined to follow Harry's advice.

No point in suffering any more than he had to, really.

~****~

When Harry got out of the shower, Draco was considerably more relaxed, lounging on the chair and reading. He looked up when Harry entered, noted the glance at the book, and smiled. Holding it up he said, "I found it in your robes. You don't mind, do you?"

Harry returned the grin, and shook his wet head. "Nope," he answered, "S'okay, I don't care. Help yourself." Still grinning, he moved to sit in the other cushy chair and began toweling his hair. "So, whaddya think of it?" he asked, and Draco shrugged.

"It's alright," he answered. "A bit boring, actually. I don't get why the author keeps explaining what he means. I mean, I think I could figure that out myself."

Now it was Harry's turn to shrug as he answered, "It's Lemony Snicket. Besides, I gather that it's supposed to be a children's book." Draco raised his eyebrows at this, and Harry gave him a sheepish grin. "'Mione's always bothering me and Ron about reading more," he explained, "I find these books funny, and they get 'Mione off my back."

Draco's eyebrows, which had gone down at the first part of the explanation, immediately shot up again, and he asked, "Funny?" Harry laughed.

"Yeah," he answered, and resumed drying his hair. Seeing that Harry was not going to elaborate, Draco went back to the book, but quickly put it down again.

"I'm bored," he announced, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"And?" he asked, and Draco pouted.

"Entertain me," he demanded, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"No"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Draco, I'm not going to get into a pointless argument with you. No"

Draco pouted some more. "Why not?" he asked, and Harry sighed.

"Fine. Draco, what would you like to do?" he asked patiently.

Draco frowned. "I dunno. You pick."

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Draco..." he said warningly, and Draco repressed the urge to giggle. This could be fun.

"What?" he asked plaintively, and Harry scowled at him.

"You're acting like a three year old," he informed the blonde, and Draco put on his best indignant look, trying to hide his amusement.

"Am not," he said petulantly, by now pouting so hard that his face was starting to hurt. Harry gave him a skeptical look, and Draco whined, "C'mon Harry, I'm bored," dragging out both the 'a' in 'Harry' and 'o' in 'bored', aiming to be as annoying as possible. It seemed to be working, for Harry looked about ready to smack Draco. Then, in an abrupt attitude change Harry rolled his eyes again, then picked up the book that Draco had put down, opened it, and began reading as if nothing was bothering him.

Draco frowned. Stupid book, he thought, glaring at the offending item in Harry's hands. He should be paying attention to me. Not bothering to analyze this thought, which admittedly would have sent him into a panic if he did, Draco acted on it, grabbing the book out of Harry's hands and putting it behind his back. Harry glared at Draco.

"Give," he demanded, holding out his hand.

Draco shook his head, laughing. "No," he said, backing away.

Harry stood and began advancing on Draco, a grin forming on his face. "Give," he repeated, and Draco shook his head, all but choking on the laughter. Harry kept advancing, and suddenly his face lit up with an idea. "Give," he demanded, "or I'll kiss you."

Draco stopped and stared at Harry, millions of thoughts running through his head. First and foremost was the thought that Malfoys did not sit back while other boys made advances, and even if they did, they certainly didn't encourage them. Then he wondered whether or not Harry was actually serious. Lastly, he wondered what he thought about that. The first thought was rather easy to contend with, for Draco really didn't care what Malfoys did or didn't do...rather, what he was more concerned with was himself. The second was just as easy. Of course Harry meant it; all one would have to do to know that would be to look at his face. The real question was: what did Draco want?

Draco wasn't given time to think about it, as Harry used the lighter boy's confusion to his advantage. Quick as lightning, he dashed to where Draco was standing, reached around the other boy, and grabbed the book out of his hands. Startled, Draco blinked up at Harry, making a belated grab for the book, but the other boy moved out of reach, laughing all the while. When Draco made no move to follow him, Harry went back to his chair and resumed his reading nonchalantly. Draco scowled at Harry, then deliberately turned his back on the Gryffindor and stalked over to the bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling. He really was bored. Bored, bored, bored...and the whole reason he was bored was sitting across the room from him, reading a book as though he hadn't a care in the world. Stupid Gryffindor, making half thought out Plans that resulted in the object of said Plans being Bored Beyond Belief. Annoyed, Draco glanced at Harry again, who was still reading complacently, and sighed theatrically. Nothing. No reaction whatsoever; no roll of the eyes or exasperated look. Harry just kept reading.

Getting off of the bed, Draco once again sat in the chair opposite Harry, and staring fixedly at the other boy, sighed again. Still Harry's eyes followed the print in his book, though Draco was sure he saw the other boy's mouth twitch. Encouraged, Draco sighed again, longer this time, and finally Harry looked up, smiling a small lopsided smile. "Yes, Draco?" he enquired, raising an eyebrow and smiling fully at Draco's petulant expression.

"You know, you suck at Planning, Potter," he huffed, crossing his arms and looking very Put Out. "What were you planning on doing all freaking weekend with me at your disposal? Because if you're idea of seduction or whatever is totally ignoring whoever you're trying to seduce, you are never going to get any, understand?"

Harry sat back in his chair and grinned. "To be honest, it's rather easy for me to get laid, Draco. I'm the Boy Who Lived, remember. The opportunities are just lining up with baited breath, so to speak."

Draco gave the other boy an incredulous look. "And they say that I'm full of myself." He said, rolling his eyes. "How can you have such a large fan club here at Hogwarts while being this vain is a complete mystery, Potter." Harry laughed.

"What can I say? I'm gifted," he replied glibly, then sobered slightly. "In all honesty, it's not vanity, it's fact. All I have to do around here to get a good shag is ask, and there is always someone willing. You know, you've presented the first real challenge I've had at getting laid. You should be proud of yourself."

Draco resisted the urge to scowl, and instead of snapping at the darker boy--which he really, really wanted to do--he kept his voice free of anything from mild amusement when he replied, "Ahh, so that's why I'm here, is it? To provide a challenge?" He was pretty pissed about this suddenly; and more than a little hurt, though he would never in a million years admit it. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing to be upset about, really; he didn't want Harry to love him or anything...did he? Gods, no, Draco thought, horrified. No way did he want Harry pulling out the hearts and flowers and poetry junk, thanks...but that didn't stop the slight queasiness in his stomach when he thought of being Harry's latest conquest, challenge or no.

Harry gave Draco a strange sort of smile before replying, "Yes...and no. I mean, it's refreshing that you don't just fall at my feet because I'm the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World...not that I'm complaining about those, either," he added with a grin. "But it's not just that. Part of it's just you. You're smarmy and vain and a real pain in my ass, but Merlin help me, I like it. Understand?" He asked, giving Draco another strange smile as he waited for the other boy to answer.

Draco thought about it. It made a strange sort of sense; actually, that Harry would like him. Slowly, he nodded, and the odd smile on Harry's face--which unsettled Draco for some reason or other, he really couldn't be bothered to figure it out--disappeared, to be replaced by Harry's tried and true Grin, which funnily enough, didn't bother Draco as much as it had before.

"Your turn," Harry said, and Draco blinked.

"My turn?" he asked rather stupidly. "My turn for what?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Your turn to tell me a little about yourself. I don't know anything about you, really, and I'm curious." Draco pondered this statement a bit, weighing it, then shrugged. It really didn't matter what he told Harry in this room after all, because it would never be mentioned again upon leaving. Draco's stomach gave a funny little lurch at this, and Draco frowned. Perhaps he was hungry. What time was it anyway?

"I don't mind answering a question or two about myself, if you really are interested. But first, what time is it? I'm starving."

Harry shrugged. "Don't know," he answered, "but I'm kinda hungry, too." He concentrated for a moment, and suddenly there was a plate of food in front of each boy.

Draco stared at the plates incredulously. "How do you keep doing that, Potter?" he demanded, and Harry grinned.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he promised, then proceeded to tuck into his food with relish.

Draco, for his part, found himself to be quite hungry, and ate his own food rather quickly, though he realized early on that he would not be able to finish the full plate. When he was finished, he glanced at Harry, who was already done and looking at Draco in amusement. "What?" Draco asked, and Harry pointed at his plate.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the amount of food still in front of Draco.

Draco felt his face heating up, and sent Harry a glare. "Just because I don't stuff myself at every meal doesn't mean I don't eat my fill, Potter," he retorted, sending a pointed glance at Harry's plate, which had been all but licked clean.

Harry grinned unrepentantly. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy," he replied, patting his stomach. After a brief moment of concentration, the plates disappeared off of the table, and Harry leaned forward eagerly, propping his chin in his hands.

"Time for my question," he announced. "And it is: what exactly is your relationship with your father?"

Draco, who had been expecting something more along the lines of 'Are you planning on becoming a Death Eater?' simply stared at Harry blankly for a few moments, but once his brain had caught up with the question, gave Harry a surprised look. "That's it?" he asked. "That's your big question?"

Harry nodded, curiosity on every feature, and said, "Well, yeah. I mean, we figure that there's something behind your nastiness, and we thought maybe your father...I mean, that he...hurt you or something."

"'We'?" Draco asked curiously. "Who's 'we'?"

Harry shrugged. "Me, Ron, 'Mione, Ginny...most of the Gryffindors, actually." Draco's mouth dropped open in unfeigned shock.

"You mean to tell me that you guys talk about me? Analyze me?" he asked, the complete incredulousness of the situation washing over him.

Harry nodded, adding defensively, "We just wanted to figure out why you're such a git, is all."

Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Potter, Potter, Potter," he said, shaking his head and trying to control his laughter, "if I'm a git, it's my own fault, not my father's. He's never laid a hand on me...he barely even notices me as long as I'm living up to the Malfoy name...which basically means being first in every class and generally mucking up your school life. Even if I mess up then, he yells at me and it's over, no more discussion."

Harry, looking a bit disappointed, muttered, "Oh," and then Draco could hold in his laughter no more.

"Oh, honestly Potter, what did you guys think? That he beat me for every little trespass? That I'm scarred emotionally and physically, and that's why I'm such a bastard?" At Harry's sullen nod, Draco began to laugh even harder. To think that they thought Lucius Malfoy, the same Lucius whose favorite words were "Yes, Master", and "Yes, dear", actually hit his son...was too much. Oh, father, he thought, you really have got them fooled.

When the laughter finally died down, Draco glanced at Harry, who had his arms crossed and was looking pretty triumphant for a boy who'd just had his illusions of Draco's tortured life smashed into bits. "Yes?" he asked.

Harry, still with that same triumphant expression, said, "But if he ignores you, that's abuse as well. Surely that bothers you?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "It used to," he admitted, then grinned. "That was, until I realized just how much I could get away with if he didn't notice me. After fifth year I stopped caring whether or not either of my parents paid attention to me, so long as they bought me whatever I wanted." At Harry's incredulous look, Draco's grin grew wider, and he asked, "What? It's the truth. I'm the perfect little son, and in return they buy me whatever my heart desires. But if either of us stopped our end of the bargain, the other would as well. It's just the way it is."

Harry was shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I'll ever understand that," he said simply. "I always wanted my family to pay attention to me...would have killed for some relatives who actually cared about me...and here you sit, not caring. I don't get it."

Draco gave Harry another grin and replied easily, "Don't try. Not all families work the same, Potter, trust me on that." Harry was still shaking his head, but he didn't say anything else, and now Draco leaned forward, and said, "My turn. So, do you really buy it all? The whole Light versus Dark bit?"

Harry stared at Draco like he had three heads. "Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "Don't you?"

Draco shrugged. "Not really," he answered, and Harry gaped. "What?" Draco demanded. "You didn't really believe that I gave a rat's arse about this whole thing, did you?" Harry mumbled something under his breath, and Draco asked, "Pardon? I didn't catch that."

Harry gave Draco a funny look and replied, "I said that I thought you were going to join Voldemort." Draco sighed.

"Yeah, and that theory is just about as good as the one about my dad. You see why I think that Gryffindors are below me?" At Harry's glare, Draco grinned and continued, "I don't really care for either side, actually. I think it's all bullocks. Who really cares what happens to Muggles and Mudbloods? The whole argument is just worthless."

Harry spluttered. "It is not worthless!" he cried. "People could die. Don't you care about that?" Draco shook his head.

"No, not particularly, as long as I don't die." At Harry's shocked look he exclaimed, "Oh, come on, Potter, what do you think I am, a saint? I just explained to you that I really don't care about anyone but myself. Why is that so hard for you to grasp?"

Harry just shook his head, then appeared to give up, saying only, "What will happen to you when the wizarding world is in a full-scale war? What will you do?"

Draco laughed. "Not sure", he replied. "Maybe at the last minute I'll decide to join up with one side or the other. Maybe I'll pop some popcorn and watch from the sidelines. Maybe I'll get myself a job in Muggle London as a plumber named Bob. We'll see when it happens."

Harry gave him an exasperated look, then dropped the subject altogether. "My turn. Why do you hate me?"

Draco groaned inwardly. There it was; the only question he hadn't wanted asked. Trust Harry to ask it. Now Draco had to come up with a suitable answer. Truth be told, he didn't hate Harry, not anymore, and that was the problem. Hating Harry Potter was something he did without thinking, without analyzing, and now that it was gone, Draco finally realized what it really had been: jealousy. Now though, Draco really had no clue how he felt about the green-eyed boy sitting in front of him; but whatever it was, it definitely wasn't hate. Not that Draco was going to tell Harry that.

Instead, he looked Harry in the eye and said, "I hate you Potter, because you're so damn good at everything. You have the whole school falling at your feet, and it was over something you couldn't control. You don't work for anything. You made the Quidditch team in your first year, over an incident that should have gotten you expelled. You completely ignore the rules and do whatever you please, and instead of getting punished, you're rewarded time and again. Even when Slytherin deserves something, like the House Cup, you go and take it from us. In fourth year you got to compete in the TriWizard Tournament, even though you were under the age limit. You strut around the castle acting as if you own it, and no one tells you otherwise. All you have to do is stand there, and everyone acts like it's front-page news. And the worst thing of all is--"

Draco abruptly cut off, not wanting to say the last part, but Harry, who looked a little lost, caught it and said, "Finish."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Draco said, feeling bad about hurting Harry, but not bad enough to continue.

Harry sent him a glare, and through gritted teeth said, "Finish." Wincing slightly at the hurt he detected below the anger, Draco did--only because he knew that Harry would get it out of him one way or the other, not because he felt guilty about lying or anything. Malfoys don't do guilt.

"The worst thing is that despite all that, it's still really hard to hate you, because you're nice and smiley and easy to talk to. It's hard, but I managed, and I wont let you take that away from me, I wont." Realizing that he'd said more than he'd intended to, Draco clammed up, but Harry was already giving him that speculative look that he loathed. Draco turned away from it, willing himself not to blush, willing his face to stay impassive.

After a long time Harry said softly, "Your turn." Draco sighed.

"I don't want a turn," he said, just as softly, "I just want to forget that this conversation ever happened." He felt drained, like he'd just emptied himself out. Perhaps he had, Draco thought, remembering all the anger and jealousy and bitterness that he'd poured out at Harry the whole day. Tired, Draco went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection for a long time before leaving what he knew was a small sanctuary away from the boy who was making him question so many things, the boy who had screwed up so much in just two days.

After leaving the bathroom, Draco went to the bed, lay down, and closed his eyes. Harry didn't say anything, and for that he was immensely grateful. All he wanted to do was lie there and pretend that the other boy wasn't in the room, that he was back in the dungeons where he belonged, where his world made sense and he hated Harry, just as he was supposed to. Draco let his mind drift, not focusing on any one image or thought for fear that it would shatter the false peace he had at the moment, and the seconds faded to minutes, and the minutes melted to hours, and two boys took the time to pretend that things were as they always had been.

~****~

Some time later Draco, who hadn't slept at all, heard Harry go into the bathroom. The toilet flushed, the water was run for a long time, then the bathroom door reopened, and footsteps padded over to the bed. Draco kept his eyes closed as Harry got into the bed, keeping his breathing deep and even. Harry slid between the covers with a small sigh, and Draco, his whole body suddenly alert, felt eyes on him for quite awhile before Harry's breathing became deep and regular, signaling sleep. It was only then that Draco allowed himself to relax, but still he waited a few minutes more before sliding across the bed and wrapping his arms around the other boy, his own small sigh of contentment breathed out before he promptly fell asleep. And Harry opened his eyes and smiled down at the top of Draco's head, wrapping his own arms around the blonde and drifting to sleep as well.