The Hogwarts Masquerade Ball

He stepped into the ballroom, his stomach stretching itself thin and panicked. It was Halloween night, and the Hogwarts Masquerade Ball was in full swing. Harry James Potter was dressed in a (in his opinion) ridiculous pirate's costume. Hermione had helped him pick out his costume, which had been fine originally, but with a swish and flick of her wand, she had altered it into something he just knew would not look right on him. He simply felt entirely too self-conscious.

She had 'lost' the shirt, and insisted that the dark, chocolate leather vest would suffice, which is what he wore over his bare chest. The pants, he could swear, she had shrunk at least two sizes too small. They were absurdly tight (although, he admitted, it made the dagger and pistol he had strapped to his legs fit nice and snug). Tossing away the eye patch, Hermione had insisted that it would hinder his vision, and he'd be bumping into his classmates the entire night. To help with the 'dangerous pirate' overall look, he had skipped shaving the three previous days, and had a bit of scruff on his chin and lip. He had fitted a sleek, leather mask over the top half of his face, and tied back his wild, black hair. Having his arms bared showed off the tattoo on his left shoulder he had gotten on a manly outing with Ron and the twins. Due to a large amount of firewhiskey, the twins, Fred and George Weasley (Ron's brothers) had managed to talk both Harry and Ron into getting tattoos and (in Harry's case) a matching set of nipple rings. Ron had passed out during Harry's piercing session, and proclaimed him now (after all that Voldemort nonsense, for crying out loud) the bravest man he knew. Ron's tattoo was a small happy face on his left arse cheek. Harry, on the other hand, had decided 'in for a penny, in for a pound', and had wound up with a rather large green dragon, which was breathing fire all the way down his arm, wrapping around it twice, and stopping just at his wrist.

He moved over to the far wall and leaned against it, looking out a window at the large moon raised in the sky over Hogwarts. His body swayed gently to the music the band was playing up on stage. When he felt a hand on his arm, he looked towards it's owner, and smiled a genuine smile.

"Ahoy there, my fellow pirate." Said a voice, dark and smooth, and familiar. The owner of the voice was dressed quite similarly to Harry, only in all black, and 'by the Gods!' what a nicely done body. And he had a shirt. One of those white billowy numbers that Harry figured a true pirate would have probably turned his nose up at.

Harry chuckled, "Taking a break from pillaging, then?"

"Perhaps..." The tall, lithe man was checking him out, and Harry felt a electric thrill run down his spine. His inspection complete, he opened his hand and held it out to Harry. "Care to dance?"

Nodding, he placed his hand in the offered one, and followed the exceedingly sexy pirate onto the dance floor area. He move his arms up and settled them gently onto the man's shoulders, his fingers grazing that lovely neck. Arms slid around his waist, and his moved into them, his chest now brushing against the stranger's. His heart felt as though it would beat completely out of his chest. Fighting against the shyness that initially tried to take over his tongue, he beat it back down, and tried for flirtatious, instead.

"So, I really like your costume, Harry." The mystery man said, smiling. Those eyes were hidden in dark, elusive.

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name, but I'm afraid yours eludes me." Harry murmured, his mind racing through the names and faces of the people he knew with the ability to exude this much confidence and pure sex appeal.

"I'm quite afraid I'll need to keep that advantage, Harry, at least for the moment." A low laugh, and then stunning silvery-eyes met his own, and it clicked instantly in Harry's mind just whom he was dancing with. He kept his surprise to himself, however, and continued to move with the music, his mind curious. How could he not have known those eyes? He'd secretly lusted after them, and the body that came with them, for years. 'Merlin! It can't be him! Can it?'

"All right. I can live with that, for the moment." He replied, his mind racing.

The man (whom Harry now knew to be none other than the Slytherin Sex-God, Draco Malfoy) smirked, and looked down at the arm resting on his shoulder. "That's a nice piece of artwork, there."

Harry cocked his head to the side, fighting a smirk of his own. "Thank you, kind sir."

The man seemed to be thinking, and Harry could not hold back the sassy half-smile.

"You are, perhaps, wondering just what else I have decorated?"

Silver eyes flared with lust, and the man nodded. "Do you have more?"

"This is my only ink, here, but I do have other...adornments." He replied cheekily. He was really enjoying this.

"Really?" Draco's voice trembled for a moment, before he calmed it. "May I ask what, and where?"

Harry pleaded with his body to remain settled, even as he felt the arousal screaming and writhing within him. He leaned in close, his lips a mere breath away from Draco's ear. "My nipples are pierced."

Draco's eyes widened, and he drew his bandana-covered head back to stare into amused green eyes. "Gods." He whispered raggedly.

He could feel the evidence of Draco's arousal against his own, brushing heatedly with every beat of the music. "Perhaps, you'd like to see?" Harry whispered, his voice husky.

"I would. But, Harry, I think there might be something I should let you in on first. Because, once I take off my mask...you might not want to share such things with me." Draco's eyes squeezed shut, hope warring with years of bitter rivalry.

"All right, Draco. What do you want to tell me?"

"I want-" Draco stopped mid-word, and his eyes positively sizzled. "You knew?" He sounded more than a little confused.

"The moment I saw your eyes."

Draco looked puzzled, "My eyes? I wouldn't have thought-"

"That I'd been studying them, with quite a lot of interest, for years? No, I suppose not." He said, his voice low and waiting.

"I just, I suppose I didn't think you'd be interested once you knew who I was. Merlin knows things haven't necessarily been happy-go-lucky between the two of us." Draco muttered, looking oddly guilty. "We've never been what you'd call friendly, have we, Harry?"

"No, we haven't. But something's occurred to me, Draco." He waited for the silver-eyed Slytherin to meet his serious look, "There's a very thin line between love and hate."

Draco smiled. A real, true smile, and it lit up his eyes. He increased the pressure of his arms around Harry's waist, aligning their bodies perfectly. Rocking back and forth to the glossy notes, they inched their way towards the door. "Very thin, indeed." He said with an arch smile.

As they reached the door, they turned together and walked down the long, dark hallway. Both of their heads turning, their eyes met, emerald clashing with silver, and Draco stopped, suddenly, and pushed Harry up against a wall. Light from a close-by window illuminated Harry's face, and Draco could not resist leaning forward and taking possession of that grinning mouth.

Harry felt as though his very breath was being drawn out of him, leaving him quite light-headed. All he could feel was that mouth, hot and dark and utterly delicious. Hands were in his hair, and it had fallen free from it's tie to be tousled in those busy fingers. His head fell back, banging lightly against the stone wall, as Draco's mouth latched onto his neck, kissing, sucking, biting, licking. His mind felt precisely like his body did when he'd grabbed a Portkey, swirling and wild and uncontrollable. He grasped onto those firm shoulders in front of him for dear life, fingers digging in. A needy groan escaped his lips, and was promptly swallowed by the Slytherin.

Couldn't get enough. Absolutely would never get enough of that flavor. And that noise! Oh gods, that noise! He'd had to put his mouth upon it, hear it inside his own head. And that messy, inky black hair was like raw silk in his questing hands. Draco felt tentative hands slide underneath his shirt to splay across his back, and he arched into the writhing body pressed between his own, and the wall. He reached his hand down to the leather ties at Harry's waist and-

"Ah-hem!"

Both young men snapped around towards the interruption, and were met with an amused Hermione Granger, hands crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised high.

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