One Thing

Chapter 7

As Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione gave him a questioning look, but said nothing as Harry shrugged nonchalantly and began to pile eggs and sausages onto his plate. He ate quickly, aware that breakfast was almost finished, and that the Halloween Ball Committee meeting would commence shortly.

Draco had the fortune of having a pair of imbeciles so thick they wouldn't know an intelligent thought if it was tied to a brick and chucked at their heads for friends. He therefore faced no inquiries as to why he had been escorted to breakfast, (late and disheveled,) by a florid faced Harry Potter. He enjoyed his meal in peace.

As the rest of the students began to disperse, the candidates said their good-byes and made their way to the front of the room. At last it was just them and Dumbledore.

"Please, sit." The headmaster made a motion for them to sit at the head table, which they did. Harry had mentioned to Hermione that he didn't want to be seated next to Malfoy anymore, (though he didn't tell her why, she had her suspicions), before the kiss, obviously. So when Draco sat one down from the end, clearly expecting Harry to sit next to him, Hermione hurried forward to take the seat. By this time, the only seats left were to Dumbledore's left, and across from Draco. Harry was suddenly seized by a fit of bashfulness and made a mad dash for the chair next to Dumbledore. However, in a musical chair like fashion, Dean sprinted up and sat there first. He immediately turned to Blaise, and, giving him a dazzling smile, began to chat him up. Harry snorted. That boy was about as subtle as a herd of stampeding hippogriffs.

But then, what does he have to worry about? Everyone knows he's gay, Harry thought miserably. Dean was the only other person in all of Gryffindor that Harry knew of who shared his orientation, and Harry didn't find him all that attractive. He sighed and, slightly apprehensive, turned back to the seat across from his former-enemy-now-snogging-partner. He wondered, vaguely, if Draco still considered them enemies; if last night had been a one-time thing. His question was answered as he sat down and Draco graced him with a dazzling smile. Although it was somewhat disconcerting as well. There was a hint of that predatory look that both terrified and thrilled him. He found himself smiling back nervously, feeling more at ease than he knew he should, flirting with his rival.

This easiness evaporated about two minutes later as the meeting began. The teams were reporting their ideas to the group. Lavender was babbling about some band that she thought would be perfect for the dance, (she and Parvati were in charge of entertainment,) when he felt it. The subtle brushing of something, presumably a foot, against his leg. Harry noticed it, but didn't think anything of it. Until it happened again. More forceful this time, it was the distinct stroke of a foot up his leg. Naturally, he glanced up at the person sitting across from him. Lusty silver connected with shocked green as he did it again. It was a constant stroking now, getting a bit too close for comfort, if you follow me. Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably, shooting Draco a pleading look, silently begging him to cease his ministrations.

No such luck. Apparently, this only succeeded in egging the blonde on, who made the extremely bold move of placing his foot directly on target.

So he thinks he can avoid me, does he? Thinks that these feelings will just go away? Doesn't want to sit by me? Well. We'll just have to demonstrate otherwise, won't we? Draco smirked evilly while slowly moving his foot back and forth, carefully gauging his victim's reaction. Harry's visage went from uncomfortable, to more so, to relaxed, to absolutely horrified. Draco's smirk grew even wider at this. He pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and scrawled out a note, never letting up on his assault.

Enjoying yourself, Harry?

Harry shivered at the sight of his first name.

Well, now that you ask, no.

Why not? Don't you find this meeting...stimulating?

Harry fought to not let his eyes bug out, wanting to keep a poker face, lest anyone figure out what was going on. Meanwhile, the under-the-table activities were still going on, as hot and heavy as ever.

Oh yes, very much so. Now would you please stop?!

Draco pouted.

Spoilsport. Are you sure you want me to? You feel like you're enjoying yourself...

Harry grew irritated at this, (not to mention scandalised,) and kicked the foot away.

YES. I'm sure. Now quit.

Fine. One condition.

The Gryffindor groaned inwardly.

What?

Meet me in our planning place after this meeting.

Are you insane?! We'll miss potions!

Relax. I'll fix it.

Draco grew sick of this two dimensional argument, and went back to work to spice it up a bit.

What do you mean you'll fix it?

Now it was Draco's turn to become irritated. He was exasperated with his prey's hesitation. He intensified his efforts and wrote,

Forget it. Just meet me there.

FINE! Just please, stop.

There appeared to be some desperation in this scribbled reply and there was a look of utter panic on Harry's face. Draco knew he must be close. All the better, he thought. He stopped his torturous touches abruptly.

Argh! Harry was caught between relief and exasperation. He had been so close. Thank God that's over. Although now he was possibly worse off. Now he had to try to pay attention for another half an hour, whilst his throbbing need tormented him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Oh God, I hate you Malfoy." Although, his wanton tone said otherwise.

"Excuse me?" Draco's tone was icy. (As soon as his mouth was free to speak.)

"I said I hate you, you little tease." Harry tried to sound as affectionate as possible, thinking that the fair Slytherin prince was upset with him for some reason. This would be most unfortunate, as Harry had no desire to leave his current position of standing with his back against the wall, in Moaning Murtle's toilet, with Draco Malfoy kissing his way down his stomach.

"No, you didn't."

"Of course I did. What do you think I said?"

Again, Draco's voice was cold and detached. "I know what you said. You said, 'Malfoy, I hate you.'" He crossed his arms and glared witheringly at the confused (and pantless) Harry Potter. Had he been less cross with him, he would have thought that Harry looked irresistibly cute when he was confused. Harry, clearly still perplexed as to what he could have done, seemed to suddenly become aware of his semi-nakedness, and in an Adam-like fashion, scrambled to retrieve his shirt and robes from the sink. This only served to irk Draco more.

"Oh, of course. The brave hearted Gryffindor, Harry Potter is running away. Again."

Harry went from lost to hurt. He whirled around, his pants still unzipped, and stated heatedly, "I'm not. I'm simply dressing myself, because, unless I'm mistaken, you are apparently 'out of the mood' all of the sudden. Now, I don't know what I've done, but unless you're going to tell me, I am going to excuse myself, because I appear to be in need of a cold shower." He matched Draco's stance, crossing his arms, and cocking his hip out to the side slightly. "Well?" he inquired impatiently.

"Well, I suggest you go take your shower, because I do not intend to suck off a person who still refers to me by my last name. Seems a bit ludicrous, doesn't it?" His tone was positively arctic.

Harry went back to puzzled. (And slightly scandalised at the term 'suck off'.) "You don't think I should call you Malfoy?"

Draco snapped, "Of course! Of course you should!" With that, he strode right through the door and began half-stomping, half-fleeing down the corridor.

"Wait!" Harry ran out the door, determined not to let his adversary get the last word in. He spotted the blonde halfway down the fall already, and shouted, "Who's running away now, eh?" The hacked off Slytherin only gave him the finger over his shoulder and kept clipping along at his angry pace. Harry grew desperate. "Stop! Draco, please!" At this the wounded boy froze. He didn't turn around, but he didn't show any sign of leaving, either. Harry flew down the hall and, reaching Draco, put his hands on his shoulders and gently turned him around. To his utter amazement, there were unshed tears in those sparkling silver eyes. He felt dreadful. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't know it meant so much to you. Please, don't cry," he whispered. "Come here." He hugged the smaller boy to him.

Draco struggled between remaining independent and pushing the taller boy away, and simply melting into his embrace. He was just reminding himself that he needed to be autonomous when his cheek brushed the seeker's toned pectorals and he sighed. On second thought... "I think perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere," he murmured. Harry nodded in agreement and pulled away. He took Draco's hand and led him toward the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. Everyone was still at lessons, and would be for about an hour and a half. The Fat Lady gave Draco a wary glance, but allowed them both to enter. Harry led the way up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, still holding Draco's hand. When they reached the 7^th year dorm, Harry walked to his bed and they sat down, both feeling slightly self-conscious all of a sudden.

"I really am sorry, Draco. It's just, this is so weird for me. I didn't know where I stood with you. I didn't know if you considered us an item, or friends with benefits, or just, you know, enemies who snogged." He looked slightly embarrassed at the last word. He turned his head away, his cheeks flaming.

Draco used a single delicate digit to turn it back, forcing Harry to make eye contact. He looked into those endless emerald pools with total honesty and said, "Harry, would you consider being my boyfriend?" Vaguely he knew he should be alarmed at the words spilling out of his mouth. He didn't do exclusive. He didn't do meaningful. Casual shagging was one thing, but any emotional attachment was out of the question. Until now. Suddenly, being with one person, specifically this person, seemed totally natural. He held his breath, searching those expressive jade orbs, waiting for an answer. He was very anxious, praying that it would be the answer he was looking for.

Just then, Harry's somber expression broke into a wide grin. "Nothing would make me happier." Draco couldn't help it. His cool façade and Malfoy pride evaporated and he lunged forward, throwing his arms around his charming boyfriend's neck and knocking him over in the process. They hit the mattress with a soft "uumph" and Draco pulled back a bit, grinning madly. He could tell that harry was still in need of some, assistance. He smirked seductively. He was going to enjoy this.

Then he had a thought. "I think we should wait, Harry." That name sounded so nice coming out of his mouth.

"O.K." Harry appeared relieved. "I don't know what I'm...I mean I've never..." he trailed off.

"You're a virgin."

"Yes."

Well that was unexpected. Draco had just assumed that Harry had already had all of the eligible gay bachelors in their year, if not some of the younger ones, as well.

"Well, how long have you known?" he asked gently.

"That I'm gay?" Draco nodded. "About a year and a half, now," he replied quietly. He looked away, cheeks crimson. Draco was astonished.

"Harry, look at me," he said firmly. Harry reluctantly turned his gaze to Draco's face. "You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. You are a normal, healthy, beautiful human being. You don't have to feel guilty about being yourself. Don't ever let anyone try to convince you otherwise." However, Harry just looked more uncomfortable, especially at the word "beautiful," and was again averting his gaze. "You really are, you know," Draco said earnestly. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Harry skirted around the subject. "Well, I still have no idea what I'm doing."

"Oh. It's just like being with a girl, except..." he stopped at the blank look on Harry's face. "You mean, you've never even done it with a girl?" he asked, flabbergasted. Harry nodded slightly, his entire face going the colour of a traffic light. "Christ, Potter, you could have any female in the school!" Harry mumbled something unintelligible and turned away, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Well, then," Draco said with a predatory grin, "I feel extremely special indeed." Harry nervously grinned back as Draco leaned down to kiss him. He dove right in, and was delighted to find that Harry's mouth was everything he dreamed it would be. It was soft, and hot, and very responsive. Suddenly he had a revelation. He liked kissing Harry Potter. So much so that shagging, his previously highly cherished hobby, seemed like something he could live without. For now. So long as he had Harry, that was really all that mattered.

"Relax. There's no rush." He sounded so earnest that Harry felt instantly at ease.

"OK," he said with a small smile. He drew the curtains and cast a silencing spell, insuring himself against the prying ears of his dorm mates. He smiled, knowing he'd need it.