Truce

Draco watched Harry Potter trip over his own feet, spilling books, quills, and parchment everywhere. He was fleetingly upset that class wasn't in session, as no one except he would see Potter's embarrassment. Well, at least he'd been able to witness it. Surely, that would be the only good thing to come out of returning late from the library, after completing a five-foot essay on the uses of Puffskein fur as fertiliser. Potter's inkwell - thankfully, still capped - rolled noisily, hitting a Draco's foot. He was sure he would have killed the scarhead if anything had spilled on his shoes. He scooped up the ink, lording over Potter until his enemy squinted up at him.

"Drop something, Potter?" he drawled.

Potter rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, I've been having a really bad week and I can't deal with you right now. As you can see, I've dropped a rather lot of things. So, either give me back my ink and move along or help me out here."

Draco immediately stooped down and started gathering the belongings, startling both Potter and himself. He awkwardly shoved a pile of hastily gathered papers and books at the other boy.

"Uh, thanks," Potter said, seemingly quite unsure about how to deal with this. "I didn't really think you'd..."

Draco snapped, "Well, perhaps I'm feeling particularly altruistic today, Potter. We've all got to do our part to help the wide-eyed street urchin every once in awhile, don't we?"

To Draco's immense surprise, Potter started laughing, plopping down on the stone floor, legs splayed in front of him. "A street urchin? Do you fancy me in a newsie cap and short pants? Wide-eyed, with a big head?"

Before he could stop himself, Draco exclaimed, "You are wide-eyed!"

Potter's laughter reached a roar. Draco was quite sure he'd never heard Potter laugh so loudly. "And my head?"

"Your head? It's normal-sized, I suppose." Draco seriously contemplated this, sitting down next to Potter and moving his hand towards the other boy's head. Potter didn't stop him when Draco's fingers parted his fringe and lightly brushed across his forehead. He gave an involuntary shiver and reached up to pluck Draco's hand from the air. Draco tried pulling away, embarrassed, but Potter wouldn't let go.

The corners of Potter's mouth suddenly turned down, his eyes losing some of their light. Draco marvelled at the absolute lack of emotional control Gryffindors possessed. "Why do you hate me, Malfoy?" Gryffindors were also quite blunt.

Well, Slytherins could be blunt, too. Draco easily ticked off each item; "Because everything's handed to you without you earning it. Because you're famous for an accident you had when you were a baby. Because you're Dumbledore's pet."

"Because I put your father in Azkaban?"

Draco's face darkened. "And that." He was suddenly overcome by a very strong urge to hit Harry Potter.

Potter let go of Draco's hand and scooted backwards until his back lay flush against the hallway wall. "Everything's handed to you, too. You're famous because of the family you were lucky enough to be born into. You're Snape's pet. My father's dead and your father's in Azkaban because he tried killing a bunch of kids, led by one kid who stupidly almost led them to their deaths." He sighed and leaned back, lightly banging his head against the wall.

Stunned, Draco found himself moving next to him, grabbing Potter's hand this time.

Potter looked down with some confusion. "Are you holding...?" Thinking better of it, he dropped that line of conversation, then picked up where he'd left off. "We're not all that different. And I'm too tired to hate anyone anymore. Too much has happened and I have bigger things to worry about than some childish rivalries." Potter rubbed his thumb against Draco's hand, causing pleasant reactions in Draco's stomach.

"What are you saying?"

"That I want to call a truce. I have to worry about Voldemort." Draco unsuccessfully concealed a shiver at the name. "You have to worry about...about, well, whatever it is Malfoys worry about. Voldemort, too, I suppose. The only place I want you to be my rival is on the Quidditch pitch. So. Truce?"

Potter brought up the hand that wasn't already clutching Draco's, causing them to shake hands in a very awkward fashion. When the handshake was done, Potter didn't let go of that hand either. Draco tried ignoring the fact that this forced them to look straight at one another.

"Potter," Draco began, leaning the side of his head against the stone wall.

"You can call me Harry, if you'd like."

"Harry," Draco began again, letting the word roll off his tongue. It felt foreign, but not exactly unwelcome. "We can have a truce. I admit, I'm probably too old to keep goading you, but you have this way of reacting that's..."

"It's what?"

"It's nice. Slytherins just don't fly off the handle over every little thing and I kind of liked getting a reaction from you." He looked down, now staring at Harry's - admittedly, very nice - shoulder.

Harry lowered his voice, mumbling so Draco just barely caught what he was saying. "You're getting a reaction out of me now."

Draco's head snapped up at surprise, breath catching when he realised Harry was staring at him. Harry's cheeks were red as a tomato. It looked rather...cute.

Oh, Merlin! thought Draco. Did I just think that Harry Potter looked cute?

This feeling was apparently mutual because Harry shifted a bit so their foreheads were touching. "Draco," Harry whispered. "Have you ever kissed a boy before?"

Kissing? Well, there'd been fumbles with Pansy and one or two sessions of Spin the Wand with a couple other girls from his house. Boys? No, definitely not, though that was looking like it was about to change. "No," Draco managed to say.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry softly pressed his lips to Draco's. Oh. Oh. This was different. Draco felt fireworks go off in his head and he quickly lost his inhibitions, fiercely exploring Harry's mouth with his tongue. Harry made a mewling sound which shot straight to Draco's groin.

Pulling his hands from Harry's, he began tentatively rubbing the other boy's leg, overwhelmed by the thought that perhaps they were wearing too much clothing. Harry broke the kiss and the two stared at each other, each gasping for breath.

"Are all your truces like this, Potter?"

"Harry," Harry corrected.

"Harry," Draco parroted.

"Draco," Harry replied.

This time, Draco swooped down to claim Harry's lips, eager to figure out the terms of their agreement.