One Thing

"Well, I er, think we should, ehm, start with, uh, a, a colour scheme, and build, uh build from..." He was having a hard time keeping a grasp on his train of thought. This was due partly to the evil smirk plastered to Malfoy's face, but mostly to the predatory gleam in his eyes. Harry could deal with the evil smirk. He saw it nearly every day. But there was something about the boy's visage that unnerved him. He wasn't sure what the disconcerting element was, or why it bothered him, and he was going to dismiss it as a trick of the imagination, when Malfoy ran his tongue over the edge of his upper teeth in a very suggestive manner. As Harry's eyes widened, so did Malfoy's grin, his tongue still protruding slightly on the tip of his incisor, making him look positively feline. Harry felt heat rising, in multiple places, and the look on his face went from shocked to absolutely horrified.

Draco saw the look and the crimson tint on Harry's cheeks and guessed what had happened. Well. That's encouraging. Taking his cue from Harry's seemingly positive reaction, he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his palms, and gazed longingly at Harry. With a sharp intake of breath, Harry leaned as far back in his chair as was humanly possible without tipping over, all whilst looking at Draco as though he'd sprouted a second head. Ignoring the Gryffindor's apparent discomfort, Draco ran a hand through silky platinum tresses and said,

"Please, Potter, continue. I'm absolutely," he paused, smirking heavily, "enthralled." At this, Harry shoved himself violently back from the table. So much so that he had to jump up from his chair before it hit the floor. He realized with horror that he no longer had the cover of the table and looked down. He then thanked whoever had made the executive decision to make school robes loose fitting.

Draco, however, did not miss the quick glance, and said, "Well, Potter, I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying yourself." He was still smirking widely. Harry gasped as his face turned, if possible, an even more violent shade of maroon. Draco was delighted. "I bet you thought this meeting would be boring, eh, Potter?" Harry made an indistinct gurgling noise in his throat and backed up even further, hitting the wall. At this Draco stood up, and made to walk around the right side of the table. Harry, seeing this, took a step left. Well, his right, Draco's left. Anyway, Draco had anticipated this, and with a wave of his hand, the table scraped left until it hit the wall. He was very glad that Madam Pince hadn't bolted down the tables in the study rooms off the library.

"Tell me something, Potter. How is it, that the Boy Who Lived, the saviour of the wizarding world, who repeatedly goes in search of his own mortality keeps running from me?" Draco was now standing in front of Harry, who had backed against the other wall, so that he was trapped between a table, a wall, and his childhood rival.

"I, I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"First on the quidditch pitch, and now, you keep running off every time I try to get close to you. Why?"

"Because, well, because you make me uncomfortable." Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Harry couldn't help but find it incredibly sexy.

"And why is that?" The fair boy asked.