Unlikely Beginnings

Harry had managed to finish his bowl of porridge, and started onto another piece of toast. He hardly remembered Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the library when he looked up, but when he saw they weren't there, he woke up a bit more yet. He grabbed a napkin to wipe his face, and stuffed the last bite of toast into his mouth. Neville had been looking at him off and on during the last ten minutes, and had asked if he was alright, just like Hermione had. Was he really alright? Did he look that bad? He'd smiled easily and said he was fine, and Neville seemed acquiesced, so Harry made for the doors, en route to the library to meet his friends.

From across the Hall, Draco was quite bored with the chatter around him, not to mention almost sick from the slurping sounds to his left and right. Crabbe and Goyle were in their usual positions, faces down, seemingly barely an inch away from their bowls, shoving food in their mouths. Blaise sat across from him, one hand on top of his copy of that morning's Daily Prophet, index finger moving down one line at a time as he read. His other hand was wrapped around a mug of coffee, and Draco wondered how he'd gotten that. The house-elves were usually under orders not to give coffee to the students. He'd have to ask Blaise later.

Draco had finished the meager portions of soft boiled egg and English muffin he'd dished onto his own plate, and had downed a glass of water afterwards. He wished they had chairs instead of the long benches at the tables in the Great Hall, as he really wanted to sit back right now. He didn't think the rest of his House were that loyal to him to all get up and drag the entire table closer to the wall so he could lean on it in lieu of a chair back.

Straightening his back, Draco gazed over the top of heads to try and catch a glimpse at the Gryffindor table. He scanned along it, and only saw one patch of bright red hair. He frowned, knowing that it was the Weaslette, and then looked back down the table, paying no heed to having lost his air of nonchalance. To his luck, he saw Harry stand up from his seat three-quarters of the way down the table. Each year had a habit of keeping to themselves, usually the oldest years were at the back of the room, and successively each year younger went in front of them, all the way up to the first years sitting at the other end facing the staff table at the head of the room.

"I forgot my bag in the common room," Draco said absently, to no one in particular. Blaise didn't even look at him, but slightly raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Draco had left his bag in their room. Draco didn't want to lug it upstairs when they were going right back down to the dungeons for Potions anyway, but Blaise digressed, and made a small 'hmm', that was probably not even heard by Draco.

Draco got up from the table, trying not to walk with his usual attention-grabbing presence as he made his way to the end of the Slytherin table. Harry was already half way to the doors, and there weren't many students leaving at this time, in the middle of breakfast. Draco thought of flipping the hood of his robes up, hiding his telltale silver blond hair, but thought that might be just as conspicuous, especially following right after Harry. He wondered if Dumbledore was watching his favorite student, and knowing that he and Draco certainly didn't get on very well, if he'd send McGonagall out to investigate, or something.

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, and Draco made it out of the Great Hall and veered to the side, stepping out of the way of the open doors so no one would see him. He looked left, and frowned, not seeing Harry, but then turned to his right. There was Harry. Pretty, little Harry Potter, all alone. Draco smirked and started after him, being as quiet as he could. Harry's shoes weren't making much of a sound on the stone floor, but Draco's boots would make a much louder thump if no precautions were taken, as he stalked his prey.

Draco slid his wand out of the special pocket it was hidden in, inside his robes, and whispered something to it, still walking as he did so. He aimed it at Harry's side, which was swaying in and out of view, as his arm swung back and forth. When Draco decided he had a good enough shot, he gave his wand a flick and out squirted some black ink, splattering all down the side of Harry's trousers.

It was thick, and it started to drip down Harry's trousers. Draco was about to do it again, or simply utter another charm under his breath, and break Potter's ink bottle inside his bag. Maybe that would get his attention - but - oh, there. Harry noticed. Draco heard a slightly frustrated, but defeated sigh. It wasn't usual for Harry to sound so despondent, but he had a lot on his mind. He knew there was a bathroom on this hall, just a few more doors down, and Draco knew the same. He dared to walk a bit faster, catching up to Harry as he pushed the door open to the boys' lavatory.

"Morning, Potter," Draco said, faking a pleasant, friendly tone. It sounded almost wrong on him, considering who he was talking to. Harry didn't respond, but only sighed, moving to look into a mirror. He turned on a tap and washed his hands, rubbing one over his mouth to get rid of any toast crumbs, ignoring Malfoy.

"What, no good morning kiss?" Draco asked, again in such a parody of taking offence, bringing a hand up to snake his fingers through the dark hair on Harry's head. He tightened his fingers and pulled Harry back by his hair. Harry bent his knees to try and duck away, but it only served to slightly unbalance him when Draco only pulled so far, twisted his head towards him, and pressed a quick, smacking kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry grabbed for the edge of the sink with a gasp as Draco swiftly let go his grip in Harry's hair, and without a moment to spare, moved in behind Harry. Draco wrapped a hand around Harry's waist and between the folds of his robes to undo the button and zipper of his trousers, again opting to simply yank them down instead of magicking them off. It proved more worthwhile to do it this way, as Harry had less of a chance of deciding to kick out, or try to run away, or rather, hobble.

The other hand was lifted up to grasp Harry's chin, forcing his head to the side to display both of their faces in the mirror above the sink Harry was holding onto. "Well, look at us, will you?" Harry couldn't do much else but look at them, as Draco was holding him there. He supposed he could close his eyes, but he didn't want to. "I bet you don't even have to shave," Draco said, rubbing his thumb across Harry's smooth cheek.

Indeed, Harry didn't, and he said so. "No." He didn't know why he even answered, why he felt like he should even dignify Malfoy with any type of response. He doubted he could manage that, though, as the hand twisting its way into his boxers took hold of his hardening cock. Draco 'hmm'd' just like Blaise had done, and let go of Harry's chin. Harry looked down into the sink and resteadied his grip. Draco pulled his own trousers down to expose his cock, and took his now free hand and stroked himself into full hardness.

"Turn the tap on," Draco ordered, and Harry did. Water for lube, and he wasn't even too terribly worried about having it splashed onto his clothes. His trousers had been shoved down to around his knees, and the back of his robe pushed around his side. Draco's hand that had been on his own cock poked through the gap between his body and his arm, and Harry watched him sufficiently wet his hand before pulling it away to brush the wetness onto his cock. He did it again, and then a third time he wet his hand and ran it up Harry's crack, teasing a finger into the sensitive hole there.

Harry let out a small moan at the cool, wet, tickling sensation, but was silenced quickly. "Shh," Draco said, rather closely to his ear, his chest pressed against Harry's back, his hand between them, ready to poise his cock for entrance. Harry strained to hear what Draco did, and his eyes widened when he heard faint voices, male voices, coming closer. Suddenly, Draco pulled him back and shuffled them into a stall and slammed the door behind them.

They were paused, silent, standing together, Draco's arm around Harry's waist, holding his cock, which gave a twitch of excitement when, a moment later, the door to the bathroom was opened, and they heard at least two boys come inside. They'd left the water on, Harry realized, and they apparently shut it off after one washed his own hands under it. They heard the open and close again, and Harry was about to say something when he heard footsteps and then another stall door close, two doors from the one they were standing silently inside.

Draco gave Harry's cock a squeeze with his hand, and rubbed his erection between Harry's cheeks. Harry tried to turn and look at Draco warningly, but Draco held him firm, not letting him move too much, to make too much noise. They already knew someone was in here, Harry thought, because the tap had been left on, and they saw no one in the hall in front of them, because there probably was no one in the hall in front of them. Draco pulled himself away slowly from Harry's body, and turned to put the lid down on the toilet, trying not to make it click against the bowl too loudly.

Harry moved pliantly, and rustled a bit as he walked, or hobbled, the two feet back to where Draco was sitting and pulling him backwards by his robes. Harry almost cursed as he lost his balance, hitting Draco's foot with his own, not knowing how far away it had been. Draco held up his other hand to steady him, but wrapped his fingers over Harry's hip and pulled him down to sit on his lap. He shoved Harry's robes out of the way, and held onto his cock, grinning maliciously as Harry's arse came down closer and closer until it met Draco's cock.

He held them both still as he impaled Harry as the dark-haired boy sat down, but this time, unable to stifle his groan, he let it out. Draco stilled for a moment, and no one said anything; not them, or the other unknown occupant of the bathroom. They heard a flush, and shuffling feet, and then a stall door creak open. The tap turned on and off quickly, and then came almost hurried-sounding footsteps to the door, which slammed shut. Harry let out a sigh, as much for relief that they were alone again, as to try and relax himself on Draco's cock.

Draco paused a moment, straining to hear past Harry's breathing, to make sure there was no one else in the bathroom with them. Satisfied that they wouldn't give anyone a free show, Draco lifted Harry slightly off his cock before thrusting him back down quickly. Harry let out a gasp of pleasure as the thrust down made the other boy's cock hit his prostate directly. He repeated the motion a few more times before he stopped. Draco leaned forward, pulling Harry back a little so he could whisper into his ear. "Ride me."

He had his eyes closed in pleasure, panting with every thrust into his stretched hole. Harry only just registered the soft breath against his ear before he was vaguely aware that he was being spoken to. His eyes opened when he heard what Draco said, and through his dazed pleasure, shook his head. Draco moved to push Harry's hips up, intent on slamming them back down, but when he tried, he met resistance. Harry refused to move; if Malfoy wanted to use him like this, he was damned if he was going to partake in it at least completely willingly. He didn't even like the guy, after all, right?

Draco scowled, furious that Harry wasn't obeying his command. He tried to thrust the dark-haired boy off his cock, ready to pull him back down, but, again, with no success. Draco was at a loss, and he wasn't even in a choice position to sit there, Harry Potter on his cock, refusing to fuck him. Draco gritted his teeth and stood abruptly, Harry still connected to him, and spun them around. Harry was now facing the toilet, having flung his arms to either side of the wall behind it for support as Draco bent him over roughly.

He pushed down on Harry's upper back to hold him still while he pulled his cock out half way and thrust it back into Harry's body. Harry threw his head back with a cry of pleasure as the change in angle made his prostate a more easy target. Draco continued his assault with rough, hard strokes, changing the speed of his thrusts so as not to come too soon.

Harry licked his dry lips and closed his eyes once more, enjoying the slow thrusts Draco was making with his cock, deep into his sore arse. It wasn't long before Harry was trying to squeeze his eyes shut even further, clenching his jaw as the water used as impromptu lube began to evaporate, leaving him in prime position for a dry fucking. He tried to relax his muscles as much as possible to reduce friction, but it wasn't working. Draco had noticed this as well, and Harry knew he'd become uncomfortable as well.

Draco began to hurry his thrusts, now wanting to finish up quickly, to lessen the pain on his cock. He wanted to come before the other boy wanted to pull away completely, the pain becoming too much. Tears welled in his eyes and started to creep down his cheeks as the pain increased, and, desperate to find some source of pleasure to combat it, took his own erection in hand. Harry began to jerk himself off at a frantic pace to match his assailant, hoping it would do the trick.

Feeling his climax approaching, Draco thrust into Harry's stretched hole only a few more times before his stomach clenched and his balls gave a jerk as his cum spurted out. His jaw went slack and he breathed out a silent moan of pleasure as he came deep inside the dark-haired boy. Harry felt the warm substance ease a bit of the internal hurt in his arse, and soon followed suit with his own release. Their breathing mingled together in the now quiet lavatory, heavy with the afterglow of their orgasms.

Draco's hands were holding onto Harry's hips, and he gripped them tight when he caught his breath, giving one more small thrust into Harry before pulling away. He watched as his softening cock slid out of the reddened passage, and he narrowed his eyes, holding back a bit of a wince at the light smear of blood along his length.

Harry started to straighten his back when he felt Draco pull away from him. His hole felt empty when Draco pulled his cock out, and Harry squeezed it experimentally, wincing as he forced the stretched muscles together again. It lessened the pain marginally, but it still hurt a lot. He dreaded sitting down for two hours in - Potions! Oh, no, Harry thought. He'd forgotten about his first class, and now he had to find out what time it was, and go down to the dungeons for two hours.

"What time is it?" Harry dared to ask, not even knowing if Malfoy was still there, as blood had rushed past his ears, and he was a bit dizzy. He turned around to see the slightly blurred back of the silver blond's head, and then was pushed almost flush to Draco as he moved back to open the door of the stall.

"We have five minutes," Draco said, looking at the clock above the door to the hallway. He'd already pulled up his trousers and buttoned them, and he moved to the sinks to wash his hand. His cock would have to wait until later, because there really wasn't time to wash himself off, unless he wanted to be late for class. Snape wasn't too kind to anyone being late for his classes, Slytherin or not.

Harry groaned, as much for trying to walk as thinking about the prospect of detention for being late. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd only get points deducted. Fat chance, he thought. He'd be lucky if he got there even five minutes late. Stupid dungeons. Draco turned and looked at him, shaking water droplets off his hands before drying them briefly on his robe; there wasn't even time to go to the other side of the room and grab some paper towels instead.

Harry did the same as Draco left the room, without another word to each other. Harry looked at himself in the mirror for a second, frowning at his disheveled appearance. Not much he could do about it at the moment, though, so he left the lavatory as well. There was no one else in the hall, and Harry looked down the left end of the corridor, frowning. He heard footsteps, but Draco was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, and Harry heard a shuffle, and, turning around, he saw Draco beside a statue of the four Hogwarts founders.

"Come on," Draco called, when he saw Harry walking towards him. He was still about ten meters away, and Draco watched as Harry started into an awkward run. He knew full well why he looked even more like a girl when he ran, and he even had the decency to grimace in sympathy for the other boy. Harry winced as he ran, and tried to keep any further friction to a minimum until he reached Malfoy.

"Hurry up, Potter," Draco said, sounding a bit annoyed when Harry stopped a few feet away. It was the least he could do, he supposed, after fucking his arse into submission, making him bleed. He put a hand under his robes and slid it up under his Slytherin House badge, lifting it away from his body and pressing it against a stone brick in the wall.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he watched in amazement as the brick glowed emerald green before beginning to slide apart, rearranging themselves until there was a doorway formed in the previously solid wall. Draco ignored him and started down the narrow passage, soon coming to stairs. Harry still stood there, staring, and was brought back to the present when the stones began to move back into place. He quickly squeezed through the closing door and followed after the other boy.

There were torches on the walls, becoming further and further apart, almost leaving the passage in complete darkness as they walked. Harry let his hands run along the walls, absently wondering if Malfoy was leading him to certain death. Perhaps a pit full of snakes, or Snape's office, where he could wait for detention without embarrassing himself by turning up late. Clearly, though, this was only a secret passage used by Slytherins. He'd never seen anyone else use it, and sincerely doubted it'd work with any of the other house's badges.

Draco led the way down the stairs, briefly interrupted by a small, flat landing before the stone steps continued. He stopped and held up a hand to halt Harry from running into him from behind, and he listened to something ahead of them. Harry couldn't tell if the stairs continued, but he assumed they led all the way down to the dungeons. They'd already come down a fair lot of them, so they must be close. "Go first," Draco whispered to him, and stepped out of the way so Harry could pass.

Harry squeezed past Malfoy and started to hold up a hand to feel what he was supposed to go ahead into. When he was about to take an uncertain step, he felt a hand on his back, pushing him roughly through what seemed like a solid wall. "Hurmph!" a haughty-looking woman in a portrait huffed at him when he stumbled out into the hall.

He turned to see where he'd come out of the wall, and saw she was brushing her hands down her dress, seemingly ruffled. Harry guessed he'd come out right through her when she leveled a glare at him, and he glared back. There he was, right in the middle of a dungeon hallway, and he saw the familiar surrounding portraits and adornments on the walls, and made his way to the Potions lab.

@>*~

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled as Draco casually walked into the room. "So nice of you to grace us with your presence." He let a small sneer creep over his lips in response to Draco's feigned pleasant smile at his teacher. Without waiting for Draco to sit down, Snape started his class. Harry had been able to blend into a group of other stragglers that were cutting it close for getting to class as well, and had easily gained entrance to the room and joined his friends at their usual table.

He'd just taken his books from Ron's bag, thankful that someone remembered them for him, when he spared a small glance across the room when Draco sat down. He'd pulled out his chair, scraping it indignantly across the stone floor. Snape barely stopped his speech on dragon dung to take ten points from Slytherin, and Draco just lounged back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. Harry felt a sharp prod to his side and turned to see Hermione looking at him, a worried expression on her face.

Harry forced a faint smile back at her, trying to reassure her without speaking, as Snape had begun his usual droning. "I'm fine," he dared to whisper. She raised an eyebrow but turned her attention back to Snape. Harry looked much more awake now than he had earlier, and Hermione seemed to be placated by his admission, and let it be.

"This potion will most definitely be included on your NEWTs," Snape continued, slowly pacing across the front of the room before their tables. "I'd highly advise all of you," he paused to level a stern look at Harry, "to pay attention." Harry, indeed, wasn't paying attention, and made a point of nodding firmly, but minutely, at his teacher.

"You will need the following ingredients..." As Snape started in on his lecture, what little attention of Harry's he'd had soon faded. Harry only caught a bit of it here and there; he was too busy trying to nonchalantly cushion his sore bottom. He tried to lean to one side, but Ron looked at him like he was going to rip one right there and then, and though the redhead might have been proud of his daring to do it, he really didn't want to get in trouble for it.

When his efforts seemed not to be going anywhere, he then attempted to subtly bunch his robes up underneath his arse. He managed to provide himself with a minimal amount of cushioning, but it wasn't enough. Not only was he sore, but he was also beginning to feel Draco's cum ease its way out of his hole. Harry was eternally grateful for black robes, praying that there still wouldn't be a dark spot if it soaked all the way through.

To be quite honest, it almost felt like he was pissing out of his arse, and that bloody well wasn't a very pleasant sensation. It was starting to puddle in his boxers and beginning to feel a bit tacky. What he really wanted right now, was to go clean himself out, or have a nice long sit on the loo. He sighed quietly to himself, trying his damnedest to lessen the oozing and pay attention to what Snape was saying at the same time.

He must not have been paying satisfactory attention, because he suddenly found himself the center of attention for the entire class. The room had gone quiet and all eyes were focused on him, and that didn't feel too good either. He hoped they didn't know what he had been squirming for, and he had to force himself to look forward once again, to see Snape frowning at him. "Am I boring you, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," he replied, wanting to duck his head, but again forcing himself to look Snape in the eye. If he could only have one Potions lesson without being embarrassed or singled out, he'd have done his duty, and could die in peace, not from said embarrassment. It wasn't his fault he had semen dripping out of his rear end.

Snape continued staring down at him, and with a quick disbelieving squint, stood to his full height. "Then I would suggest that you stop squirming in your seat, and perhaps pay attention to what's being taught."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, hating Snape every bit as much as he always had, and, if possible, just a little bit more. Snape really didn't seem to think he was really going to pay attention, and felt the need to continue speaking to him. Harry would have been quite content for Snape never to utter another word at the moment.

"Unless," he started, "you think you're ready to take your Potions NEWTs today? If so, then by all means, Potter," he gestured to the closed door at the end of his classroom, "you can leave."

Harry hunched his shoulders slightly, really wanting this day to be over so he could go take a nice hot shower and go to bed. "No, sir." Snape sniffed and turned around abruptly to face the other side of the class, satisfied that he'd brought the famous Harry Potter down one more notch, and continued the lesson.

Harry did his best to ignore the wet, squishiness inside of his pants. He succeeded for only a few moments before his thoughts were dredged back to his problem once again, focused solely on his crack becoming steadily slippery. He didn't even know his friends had noticed his continued squirming, and knew he couldn't have been doing it for attention. Harry would have worn his invisibility cloak to Potions every day if he could do that and still take his NEWTs for the class in the end.

As much as he didn't want to admit that he needed his Potions NEWT to apply for a lot of wizarding jobs he was interested in, he did. Ron felt the same way, too, but he wasn't paying attention to Snape, either; he was more interested to find out why Harry seemingly had ants crawling up his arse. Ron was about to ask him just that, trying to take advantage of Snape leaning down to a Slytherin table, finding a page in Crabbe's text, but Snape turned back to face them, grimacing as he peeled two pages apart that had been apparently stuck together with pink frosting.

Snape frowned and shook his head at a sheepish looking Crabbe, and then began his lecture. Harry, oblivious to Ron's aborted attempt at conversation, gave up and raised his hand, hoping like hell he'd be allowed to go to the loo. Snape turned around from his desk and, at first, ignored Harry. He tried not to wave his arm around frantically to try and get Snape to acknowledge him, and settled for wiggling his fingers slightly. Snape looked at him now, and raised an eyebrow before uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips, looking rather menacing as he glowered down at Harry.

"Can I use the lavatory, sir?" Harry asked, not too loud as to disrupt anyone else, but when Snape took up these poses, most people were inherently aware of it anyway, not wanting to have him swoop down on them and criticize their work.

Snape made a point of stopping the entire class, though, by gathering their attention with a loud sigh, looking quite put upon at the innocent question. "Can't it wait until after class, Potter?" He crossed his arms and let his eyes bore into Harry's. If he hadn't had the entire class' attention when he'd first asked his question, he did now.

"No, sir," Harry pleaded. There was a brief moment of silence before Snape waved his hand negligently in Harry's direction as he turned around to resume what he had been doing. Draco smirked, knowing full well why Harry wanted to go to the bathroom. He had to sympathize, though; he was starting to feel a bit crusty himself.

@>*~

The remainder of the class was spent with Snape's lecture which seemed to finally be drawing to a close. He scowled when he was interrupted by the bell, and knew he had to stop so the students could get to their next class. Actually, they would all have fallen asleep if it wasn't for the detailed gore that Snape kept describing, relating to whatever he was on about at the time. There had been a fifteen minute question period, and Harry was surprised to see more than three hands go up, and he didn't think they were all to ask for a bathroom break.

Even Harry had a question, but it was disjointed and, frankly, rather stupid. Hermione had shaken her head at him, grinning slightly, as she knew he was just tired. Ron had laughed, along with others, but that had quelled quite quickly as a muscle in Snape's cheek had begun to twitch. He was clearly annoyed that Harry hadn't been really paying attention; he'd been paying attention to the best of his ability at the time, but he really was starting to get sleepy again.

"Mr. Potter," Snape started, in a quiet voice which everyone quieted to hear. They were almost afraid he was going to start yelling any moment now. "That is an irrelevant question, not to mention utter rubbish. I was starting to think you had a bigger brain than Weasley, but I was obviously mistaken." Ron frowned at the shot, but wisely stayed quiet, averting his eyes when Snape slid his glare over to him.

On the other side of the room, some of the Slytherins were trying to hold in laughter, and the ominous silence didn't seem to bother them at all. When Snape turned towards them, having broken out with a few chuckles and a snort, more laughter bubbled, and no one was watching as Snape advanced to the first table and slammed his fist down hard. "Mr. Malfoy! Do you think this is funny?" Draco immediately stopped chuckling and lowered his gaze, settling it on Snape's fist, knuckles turning white on it. "Ten points from Slytherin," he snarled. "Is that funny?"

"No, sir," Draco said, keeping his voice loud enough to be defiant and stand up for himself, but not loud enough for Snape to become even more angry. Snape jerked his hand away and sighed heavily, not even fully aware of why he'd snapped like that himself, and his class certainly had no idea. He leveled another glare at Harry, but turned back to his desk for a moment and blindly shuffled some things. A few shuffles interspersed with low murmurs told Snape that it was safe to continue without too many awkward glances, and he turned around to finish his lecture.

Harry sighed quietly to himself in relief when the bell rang. He had never been more happy to be let out of the Potions lab than he was right now. After Snape's outburst, most of the class had kept their eyes on their professor, not daring to fool around in any miniscule way at all, and therefore Harry still hadn't noticed the continued glances of his friends trying to catch his attention.

Snape had whirled around to sit in his chair behind his desk and watched the students file out of his classroom before he could slam the door behind them. He watched as Potter picked up his school bag and headed for the door, almost colliding with Malfoy as he made his way towards the threshold. Snape frowned as they were jostled together by the crowd around them, shoulder touching shoulder. If he was not mistaken, there was a small glance between the two, clearly surreptitious on both accounts.

Their classmates had mostly all gone before them and were filing through the doorway, and when they came to it themselves, neither seemed to want to go through first. Never mind that they could walk through it at the same time, but that proved to brush bodies against one another, even if the doorway was wide enough for two bodies to go through, especially such lithe frames as the two boys that had caught Snape's eye. They seemed to hastily press themselves in opposite directions, yet not separating themselves too far, after their shoulders had brushed.

The few students behind them were trying to edge further ahead, and Snape could see a group of students clogging up the hall in front of his door; early birds for his next class. Snape was about to go over and hustle them out and clear the hall when he was almost astounded to see Draco nonchalantly decline his head, and Harry lowered his eyes and went first. This was a most unusual thing to see happening between a pair of Hogwarts most prominent rivals. Why Malfoy, a Slytherin, would bow in to Potter, of all the Gryffindors, to go through a door first, of all things, was beyond him at the moment, and Snape yelled at them to get a move on.

After the last of the Seventh Years had left his room, the few early Fifth Years had came in, and began setting up their cauldrons to start into their presentations, some having to brew their potion longer than others. Snape was impressed with the work they were putting into it, and had decided he'd give them a good enough grade just for that, even if their abysmal potions brought that mark down considerably. Yet this new behavior he'd seen, even if it was only for that split second in time, wouldn't leave Snape's mind. He nodded a greeting to one of the students as he stood up, before drawing the heavy velvet curtain around his desk, shrouding it in darkness and at least a bit more privacy.

Snape lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling above his desk with a flick of his wand, and sat back in his chair, elbows on the arm rests, his fingers steepled together as he continued with his thoughts. He leaned forward to open the drawer he'd placed the small tube in the other day, and he picked it up gently, squinting his eyes at it, as if that would tell him who exactly it belonged to. No matter if that couldn't, though, as he had the time and the potion already produced that would tell him.

Picking up his wand again, Snape summoned said potion from a table to the side, and it landed in the palm of his other hand softly. He set it down, as well as his wand, and picked up the test tube. Snape wiggled the stopper out of the end, and let the contents ooze out, and fall with a small 'bloop' into the waiting potion. He picked up the jar and swirled the contents, mixing the sample into the blood red liquid. Severus watched as black lines started to spread from the center of the sample, and twist and turn, curl and coil, until they formed themselves into words before his very eyes. No, it couldn't be him, could it?

Well, he shouldn't have been surprised, really. The fact that Harry Potter would have had the audacity to shag, not only in his classroom, but against his desk, was at the top of the list for a personal slight against someone, and he knew very well that he and the Boy Who Lived were not the best of friends. His lip curled at the thought, and Severus turned a menacing glare at the evidence. He vowed to take as many points as he could from Gryffindor without being too suspicious for Potter's childish behavior.

Snape picked up the jar again, and swirled it, waiting for the second name to come up. He must have waited at least a minute, and still nothing. The black lines were twisted up, and not unraveling to reveal a second DNA owner. If Potter was alone, he had obviously caught most of his semen, and only hastily wiped the rest off Snape's desk. Snape frowned at that thought; why in the world would Potter be having a wank against the side of his desk? Unless... he really wasn't alone.

He was not interested, at all, in the trajectory of any of Potter's bodily fluids, but as Snape was determined to find out why the boy had been in his office space, he had to contemplate that sickening image. As much as it was equally another subject he had never wanted to contemplate, Potter must have been with a partner, and that partner would have to have been male. Add to that, the odd scene he'd witness just a few minutes ago, and Snape was again astounded to see connections lighting up in his mind left and right.

Getting up from out of his chair, he put the potions away, and was intent on throwing back the curtain and visiting the little insect when a thought suddenly stopped him as it appeared in his head. Why, if Potter wasn't the only one involved, he should be at least fair about point deductions. He would have to find out who the other participant was in the situation. He let a cruel smile stretch his lips as he made a few quick notes on a bit of parchment. A potion could be made, but it might not have a great chance of telling him much, especially if all traces were gone from Potter's system before Severus could put the next potion into action.

It would take a few days to complete, but it was one way to find things out. Merlin knew he was not about to go asking his students about their dirty little sex lives. Snape turned away from his desk again and sneered at the potion before locking the cupboard he'd placed it inside. Until he found out for sure who Potter's co-conspirator was, though he had his suspicions, he could thoroughly enjoy making Potter's young life a living hell.

@>*~

Draco had gone straight to the Slytherin common room after Potions, having ten minutes of free time before he had to be in Care of Magical Creatures. He'd gone to his room, and had gotten his Quidditch robes together, along with his Nimbus 2001, and had set them all in place for tomorrow. They had practice right after lunch, and afternoon classes were canceled for the day, due to the first Quidditch match of the season.

There were posters noting the event all over the school, and when Draco left his room, he went to the Slytherin notice board to look at one. He knew he wasn't the best player in the world, but he enjoyed the game and that was what counted. He scoffed quietly to himself; he'd never thought he'd hear himself think something like that before. He really hoped the recent proximity to Potter wasn't wearing off some of the Gryffindor's morals on him.

Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, first weekend in November, classes canceled, what could go wrong? Slytherin was sure to win, and have the rest of the afternoon off to do whatever they wanted. Just as Draco was about to head for the door, it swung open, revealing their Head of House. Snape burst through the large stone door with a medium sized box in his arms, which strangely had a few vines twisting out from the corners it'd obviously broken through.

"I need a volunteer," he called out. Several people came forward, eyeing the box curiously, but not wanting to get too close. "This box needs to go to Professor Sprout, and as I'm not in the right mood to deal with her, I'm leaving it up to one of you." No one showed any interest in the task, and Snape sighed. "Ten points if someone takes it," he added.

Crabbe pushed his way past a fourth year, "I'll take it."

Snape raised his eyebrow, fighting the urge to ask to see the large boy's hands. "As much as I'd really not let you do this for me based on common logic, I'd disallow it for your safety as well. I doubt any kind or color of frosting would react well with this particular sentient plant. Any others?" Snape glanced around, and caught sight of Draco, who had sat down to wait until Snape had left before he went up to the main floor. Draco had one eyebrow slightly raised, and Snape thought it was due to the fact that he'd offered back the points he'd taken away for Draco's laughter earlier.

A few students had followed his gaze over to Draco, who had swung a leg over the edge of the chair he was sitting in, staring right back at Snape. "Alright," Snape growled, drawing their attention again. "Take it," Snape said, thrusting the box into Crabbe's arms, and dismissed them all from his immediate presence. As he made his way back up the steps to the door, he almost looked back over his shoulder, but he knew full well that Draco was still watching him. Draco knew he knew something.

The only class held in the dungeons was Potions, and very rarely did Prefects roam the dark corridors of the basement. The only other time students were down there was for an occasional detention with Snape, or if Filch had a particularly bad problem with fungi in a damp room, used for nothing else but storage. If it wasn't a personal slight against Snape, Potter must have had some other reason to be in the dungeons. Perhaps he was looking for someone, or waiting for them.

@>*~

After Potions, Harry had made his way to the kitchens and got himself a snack. He had to politely decline the feast that Dobby kept offering, as he had to get to class, and didn't think he could eat that much, let alone do it in ten minutes. Hermione hadn't even wanted to let him out of her sight, but she relented, and she and Ron had gone out to meet Hagrid before class started. Harry was on his way there now, across the Hogwarts grounds, towards Hagrid's hut.

He might not actually have liked Care of Magical Creatures all that much, since Hagrid tended to have wild creatures about, but he enjoyed spending time with his friend. Since this was a double class, they'd be joined by the Slytherins again. Maybe Harry would be able to sit near Malfoy or something, maybe talk to him. He had no idea what he'd ever say to the other boy, but he just didn't like the fact that he couldn't at all without a teacher nosing about, or others around who might think their speaking while remaining civil was a sign of impending apocalypse.

Ron looked up from trying to calm his Monster Book of Monsters into submission, and saw Harry almost to where they were waiting, just outside of Hagrid's. After Hagrid had told them how to train the books, most of them still rebelled, and several people usually conveniently forgot their books when their teacher asked. More like they were still trapped in a cage of some sort. He retied his Gryffindor colored scarf around the book again, not having much luck, and dropped it onto the table in front of them. "Oi, Harry's here," he said, and nudged Hermione in the side.

"Ow, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing slightly at her injured ribs. "Don't poke so hard," she complained, before ducking her head slightly, realizing what she'd said. She looked in the direction Ron was pointing in and most other unnecessary thoughts were pushed to the side for the moment when she saw Harry. Hermione waved at him as he walked over, but before he got there, she leaned to whisper to Ron. "Did he tell you what was up with him in Potions? He really was acting a bit odd."

Ron shook his head, turning his head to look at Hermione. "Nope," he shrugged. "I tried asking during class, but Snape kept watching us, and I definitely didn't want a detention with that slimy git." Harry was just getting to their table, not having heard their conversation. He had been pretty much wrapped up in his own thoughts to do anything but stare at them as he approached.

"Hi," Harry said, setting his own book down on the table. Ron's gave a little type of jiggle, trying to get out of the scarf and to sniff the other book, or something. With those books, you never knew. Before Hermione could ask Harry anything, Hagrid came out of his hut with a large crate. It seemed to have some type of mud and twigs and maybe even water in it, and all kinds of things came sloshing out of the cracks as he walked to their table.

"Dugbogs," he leaned down to them and said, adding a wink. He grinned and turned away, and they really hoped Dugbogs weren't anything dangerous. More students were arriving and eyeing the muddy crate suspiciously.

"Oh, please tell me we're not studying earthworms," drawled a voice from behind them, and Harry's heart started a faster pace, and he tried hard not to twist his head around to see the owner of that voice.

"Alrigh' now," Hagrid boomed as he came back to them and started poking around in the crate. "This 'ere," he said, holding up what looked like a stick, "is a Dugbog."

"It's a hunk of dead wood," Malfoy called out, having sat himself on top of a table and reclining backwards on it. Harry didn't even hear Hagrid's response, as his attention was drawn to Draco's body. He was taller than Harry, but not by too much, and Harry thought he might be a bit more muscular, or else they were even on that front. He'd never seen Draco's bare chest, had he? He frowned as he found he could barely picture the first time that Draco had taken him on the grounds.

He looked around himself, and realized that they hadn't even been far from where the tables were set up. It hadn't even been that long ago, either. Hermione's voice broke through his own thoughts, her "answer my damn question or I'll never shut up" tone always seemed to do that. "Have they ever killed anyone?" she asked. She'd had to stop asking more politely, since Hagrid never gave her a good answer to "Are they dangerous?" Hagrid had a very different perception of what was dangerous or not.

Hagrid look affronted at the question, but answered it none the less. "Well, no. Bu' they 'ave bin known ter gnaw off a finger er two, bu' tha's only when they're very, very aggravated." He nodded his huge head, looking quite serious about it. Draco had gotten off the table when some of their classmates set their struggling books onto it, and Ron looked a little put down that he wasn't the only one to think of tying their scarf around the Monster Book of Monsters. At least he'd had a good excuse to give Hagrid when he saw that the book was apparently tied shut. "Honestly, I thought it was a bit cold, Hagrid."

Harry's attention was caught now, as Hagrid began to show them the hidden limbs of the Dugbogs. It had finned paws and very sharp teeth which one attempted to bite into Hagrid's glove, but not getting much anywhere with that. It looked angry, and Hagrid put it back into the muddy crate, and it crawled up into a lump of grass that had been dug up. Hagrid had gone out to the small marsh in the Forbidden Forest, where these particular Dugbogs had come from.

He learned that the dead wood resembling creatures did more injury to humans; like their ankles as they passed. As Hagrid continued, he gave a small apologetic glance at Hermione when he mentioned that. A few had even slithered their way onto the grounds a few years back, when Professor Sprout had pots full of Mandrakes, the Dugbogs favorite food.

At the end of the lesson, Hagrid summed up his talk on Dugbogs with saying that any competent wizard should be able to cope with them, but it was preferable to wear gloves and tall boots if you're ever near a marsh. Harry had missed large parts of conversation in the class, as he was still sneaking looks at Draco. Once, he'd even caught Draco's eyes, and smiled slightly. The blond had looked a bit alarmed, but Harry thought it must have been because it was a bit blatant the way he'd done it.

When they heard the bell ring from the castle, they started to gather their books from the tables, and not even Hermione wanted to stay and risk getting a finger chomped on to help Hagrid with the Dugbogs. They waved goodbye and headed back to the castle. Harry had lingered behind his friends a bit, and they were already into a conversation with each other about something or other, but Harry didn't feel like talking. He'd listen, but he didn't want to take part.

Draco was a little way ahead of him, too, and when they all got to the steps of the castle, turned to his side letting a group of Slytherin girls go in front of him and Goyle. Harry watched him as he came up the steps, and Draco looked right back at him. Harry passed him, and carried on into the castle, but Draco was still thinking about him. He'd looked happier now than he had been in the past few days, and he was a bit unsure of how he'd actually deduced that. The only time he spent much time thinking about Potter was when he had his cock stuck up the Gryffindor's arse.

He went in the door himself, Crabbe and Goyle following behind at a small distance. Harry was going in the opposite direction as he was about to, and he felt a small pull to follow, but held back on that urge. He did have work to do, and he had no idea where Potter was off to; he could be going six floors away for all Draco knew. What he did know, though, was that he couldn't get the image of Harry smiling at him out of his head.

@>*~

After Care of Magical Creatures, they had another ten minutes of free time before the next class started, and they were on their way up to Gryffindor Tower to get their books for the next class. Ron and Hermione still had a bit of a lead on Harry, and he was glad for the privacy. He hadn't really noticed before how good Draco actually looked. Harry had to admit he liked the silver blond hair, a lot. He'd never seen a Muggle with hair naturally colored that light, and he supposed some might think it made Draco look a bit like a girl. In fact, he'd heard people say that before, but he didn't agree with them. It went perfectly well with his eyes and his sharp features, and was he really thinking about Draco's eyes?

Harry shook his head at himself before he got to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Bumblebee Tuna," Harry said to her, and she nodded and swung herself open, and slapped shut behind him. Harry felt a tug as he took his next steps past the doorway, or tried to, at least. He looked behind and saw that a drawstring from his bag had caught in the door. Guess she's having a bad day, he thought, before he heard a shout from upstairs.

"IS THAT HARRY?!" Ron screamed down the stairs. Lavender and Parvati were already in the common room, and shook their heads at the yelled question. Harry could imagine Ron asking every time he heard the door open and shut, and just as easily could picture Lavender screaming right back at him. Harry grinned at them before walking to the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

He dropped his bag onto a chair as he went, and started up the stairs and went straight to the room he shared with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. He found Ron pacing around between their beds, staring at Harry's trunk, clearly wanting to rip the lid off and go through it. "What's up?" Harry asked, curious.

"Oh, I wanted to ask a big favor of you, mate," he said, putting on his best smile. Harry knew right then. That was something Ron had learned from Fred and George, even if he didn't want to admit it. That smile meant that he wanted a bit of help for some crazy idea.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting down on his bed, and Ron sat down opposite him on his own.

"Could I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?" Ron asked, and sort of squished up his face, awaiting a "No."

Harry hadn't been expecting this, but then, what would he have been expecting? He hadn't had time to think about what Ron would want, but this seemed like a reasonable request. "What do you need it for?" Harry asked as he got up and went to his trunk. Ron grinned when Harry did this, and moved over to Harry's bed to watch as he drew the cloak out.

"To skip Divination. I'm going to tag along with Hermione to Muggle Studies." Harry was surprised at this, but he supposed if he had been listening to them more closely, he would have heard more of the specifics. He wouldn't have known Ron to rather listen to some teacher, than sit in the back of a room, albeit an incense smogged room, and have fun predicting ridiculous events, not even paying attention to the professor.

"Who teaches that again?" Harry asked as he dug through his bag, looking for the silvery material. "Professor Tast?"

"Yeah, she's almost as old as Binns," Ron said, looking gleefully at the cloak Harry had pulled out of his trunk.

Harry didn't want to picture an old woman that wrinkled, so he tried his best to wipe that image out of his mind. And what did his brain want to replace it with? Malfoy. "Okay," Harry said, handing the cloak to Ron. "But make sure to bring it back and don't rip it or anything."

Ron nodded and swore that he'd take good care of it, leaving Harry to get his Divination books. Oh, he hoped Harry would get his homework, as well. Professor Trelawney may be more of a quack than anything else, but Ron had always gotten good marks in her classes, if only for his originality. Apparently, his spine was going to twist up and in twenty years, he'd become a snail-like being and need to wear some sort of protective outer covering as a shell to keep his fragile, spongy body from being damaged.

Hermione was waiting with a big smile on her face when she saw Ron come out of the boys' stairwell. "Did he let you have it?" she whispered to him, and Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Great, let's go."

Ron hadn't a clue where the Muggle Studies classroom really was, and he hadn't even been on much of the west side of the castle at all, except if he'd gotten lost. Hermione knew the way, though, so they started on the trek from the north side, where Gryffindor Tower was located, to the west. They decided he should put the cloak on before they got into the corridor that contained the Muggle Studies room, so people wouldn't see him going into the room with Hermione, and then disappearing.

They made sure that no one was looking, and Ron swung the cloak around his shoulders, and made sure it was all the way down to cover his shoes. Hermione walked slowly so Ron's usual long strides wouldn't expose his feet. They came to the door to her classroom, and waited for others to pass through so they didn't try to walk closer to Hermione to get past the door, coincidently, trying to walk right in the space that Ron was actually occupying. Ron tried not to scuff his feet as he walked, and managed most of the time, and he almost stumbled twice, but managed to right himself before falling flat on his face, or tripping over the cloak and having it pulled right off.

Hermione sat down at her desk, and Ron stayed standing beside her. He poked a finger against her shoulder to let her know where he was, and he looked around the room as the rest of the students got settled. There were maps posted up on the walls, big outlines drawn on them showing unplottable areas set aside for various purposes, and various flyers that had been collected of memorable Muggle events. There was a long table along one wall, with strange devices Ron had barely remembered seeing before when he was ever in Muggle London.

One thing in particular caught his attention. A "toaster", claimed the label above it, and Ron followed the strange cord that led from its base over the edge of the table and nodded his head in a bit of false understanding. He now saw what a "plug" really was, even if not what purpose it served, and was a little more informed about his father's strange collection of the things. He vaguely heard the door shut, and then heard a shuffling across the floor, and turned, scanning his eyes over the back wall that was covered in a giant bookshelf, before his focus landed on an old woman.

Professor Tast. She didn't quite hobble, and she didn't have any sort of cane to help her walk, and Ron had the strange suspicion that she could very well run down the hall at an alarming speed if it was needed. As she started to dig in a folder for some papers, Ron looked for a place to set himself down. He couldn't pull out the chair of one of the spare desks at the back of the class, even if there was one right behind Hermione. It would look strange to see the chair moving of its own accord, and then see the cloak pulled up to reveal his feet as he sat down. No, the best thing he could do was to pull his limbs in.

Hermione had described to him how the classes usually were; no one was going to be walking around much, so Ron opted to simply sit cross legged on the floor beside his friend's desk. He sat himself down with minimal noise, and reached a hand out to press against Hermione's leg when he was settled. She jumped a bit and looked down at the empty space on the aisle where she presumed Ron was sitting, and she smiled. The elastic on her sock was pulled back and let go to make a small snap against her calf, and she felt like almost squirming at the content of Ron's hand, through the invisible silvery material of the cloak, brushing against her bare skin exposed past the hem of her skirt.

"Now," Professor Tast started, drawing some of the students out of whispered conversations with their neighbors. "Last session we were in the 'W's on our review for next week's test." Her voice was slightly gravelly, but sweet, and you felt like going into her office for tea and sweets. Though, when Hermione had been telling him about this (and she had been right in her description of the old teacher) she had ended up telling him about a story of Hansel and Gretel, and vaguely gave him the idea of this nice old lady at the head of the class turning into a hag and trying to eat them if they actually did accept a nice invitation to her office for tea. It was a scary thought, but there was something about her that made you think there was more than what you saw.

Getting off that oddly frightening train of thought, Ron turned his attention back to Professor Tast, and what she was starting to ramble about, reading off her notes that she was holding in front of her. She had taken a stool from in front of the long table at the side, with the toaster, and set it in front of her desk. Clambering on top of it, she sat, mumbling out loud, while some students took notes all the same.

"You're Muggle born, though, and you actually learn things in here?" Ron had whispered to her, looking around the room again, even though she couldn't see him do it. He would have asked her why she was here, but he already knew. She wanted to see the other side, the wizard's perspective, of events and happenings in the Muggle world.

"Well, I do know it," she whispered back, trying to scoot as low in her seat as she could go without being accused of slouching or not paying attention. She couldn't shout down at Ron, or seemingly, the floor to anyone else who was looking. And even though he was tall, his head still only came past the top of her desk, and there was still another foot and a half or so between them. She had paused, waiting for Professor Tast to start speaking again, having lost her place. "But it doesn't hurt to find out a bit more in depth, as I never got up to the higher grades in which I would have learned it in a Muggle school."

A girl that Ron knew was from Hufflepuff raised her hand, and Ron couldn't remember her name, but knew she was familiar from somewhere, other than being at the same school and only a table away at lunch, not to mention probably in at least two of his classes. She said something about armpits and Ron made a face. What on earth did they learn about Muggle armpits?

It turned out that there had been a type of movement that women had protested for the right to shave themselves of unwanted and unsightly hair in whatever place they felt they wanted to be smooth as a baby's bottom. While Ron agreed with that, not particularly liking that type of hairy woman, he didn't think it should be such a big deal that some Muggle women make a big deal out of it. Going to such lengths as laser hair removal was ridiculous, Hermione had whispered to him. He had to wonder what a laser was, and he thought maybe he should have brought a pad of paper to write things down himself.

He had waited a few moments, but Hermione's attention wasn't on him, and she didn't hear him pssting at her, so he chose a more direct way to get her to listen to him. He reached out again, and brushed her leg. She looked down immediately, and Ron had to note that he'd felt a teeny bit of stubble on her legs, though never enough to panic about. Ron jerked his gaze away from her calf, though not before darting his eyes up to her half covered knee before remembering she couldn't see him anyway. "That's gross!" he whispered, a bit loudly, and a boy two desks ahead turned back for a second, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned back. "You mean they didn't shave at all?"

Hermione shook her head slightly, and stuck out her tongue in a little gagging face. Ron grinned, and looked down at himself to make sure he was covered. He'd been making sure every few minutes, just in case he had shifted and a shoelace was showing or something. Ron was about to look back up at her and ask how much longer the class was (his arse was getting numb) but his eyes caught again on her bare knee, noticing that she'd shifted as well, and the gray fabric had ridden a bit higher on her leg. He grinned suddenly. She'd not even have a clue if he'd looked up her skirt or not.

He was about to clear his throat, but definitely thought better of it, and instead swallowed hard and looked resolutely ahead at Professor Tast, yet still his mind wasn't focused on the teacher. He was glad Hermione shaved, though, despite old Muggle habits. It would be a bit uncomfortable to have wiry hairs like men had on their legs. That'd be quite uncomfortable in bed, to rub up against a body as hairy as your own. Ron blushed, and tried to change to a more safe thought. He assumed she did her armpits, because that seemed positively awful. Sometimes he even contemplated shaving his own after a particularly sweaty Quidditch practice, he thought maybe if he didn't have the hair to collect the scent in, it wouldn't be so bad. Then maybe he could collapse on his bed without showering.

They moved on from recovering that subject, and moved onto equal rights for what jobs women could have, and how the Muggles had held back their women unjustly. Women in the wizarding world had already been able to become mediwitches, and even Aurors, centuries before the Muggles did. That was one thing that started wizards to thinking they should separate the two cultures before any more damage was done. With witches working in these jobs, Muggles were sure to notice. Therefore, a witch who had a medical license couldn't work in a Muggle inhabited area, which might have limited the amount of patients she could have treated due to word spreading that she was "rising up in rebellion and stealing the rightful place of men in the world", as Professor Tast mumbled from her papers.

"Any questions?" the elderly woman asked from her perch. A few hands were raised, and Professor Tast began to answer their questions, but Hermione didn't hear what they were, or their answer, as Ron had piped up beside her from the floor.

"Yes, Professor Tast, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?" Ron whispered to Hermione from his seat between the aisles. The old teacher never made the walk up and down them, so it was safe for him to sit there for most of the class. Hermione almost snorted to keep her laughter inside. "Honest, my dad has asked Harry that more than ten times over the years, but Harry never gets to answer him before something interrupts."

"Miss...Granger?" Hermione abruptly stopped laughing, and reopened her eyes, which she'd shut in an effort to keep her amusement inside. It hadn't worked, and the insides of her eyelids only served as movie screens as the hilarious scene Ron had described tried to play itself out on them. "Do you have something to share with the class?"

"Yes," she said, and Ron gaped from under the cloak, and scraped his shoe along the floor, creating a shuffling sound as he turned to look at her. She wouldn't. "What exactly is the function of a rubber duck?" The room was silent for a long moment before several students began laughing. He couldn't believe she could ask as calmly as she could, having been trying to stop uncontrollable laughter only the moment before she was spotted.

@>*~

"Oh, poor Professor Tast!" Hermione managed to get through her laughter when they were several corridors from Muggle Studies, on their way to the Great Hall. "She was absolutely flabbergasted!" The old woman had spluttered and then stopped, looking thoughtful before asking "What?" Hermione asked again, and the woman had to admit she had no idea what a rubber duck actually was. Ron had an arm around his stomach, it hurt from laughing so much, as they made their way to the hall. They still had their books, but they'd probably miss the start of dinner if they went all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

They reached the Great Hall, and joined a group of students walking through the doors and parting to sit at their tables. "Harry's here already," Ron said, pointing out the dark haired boy who was sorting some papers into two piles at the Gryffindor table. "Hey," Ron said when he sat down beside Harry; Hermione took a seat across from them and set her bag down under the bench. "Here. Safe and sound."

Ron bundled up the cloak and pushed it into Harry's hand. "Thanks," Harry said, stuffing it into his bag, which was in his lap. "So how was it?" he asked, handing one of his piles of paper to Ron, who grimaced at the words written on it. Divination homework; granted, he'd wanted Harry to get his, but he still didn't want to do it.

"It was great, you should see all the Muggle stuff in there. Toasters and everything!" Harry snorted at that. Ron made a face at him, and Harry laughed at it. He supposed Ron really had never seen a toaster before, and wondered for a second how Mrs. Weasley had made all that toast in the mornings without one. "I'd rather take Muggle Studies than Divination. What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a wee jar full of some purple tinged liquid. He picked it up and tilted it, watching the purple stuff ooze to one side and then the other when he tipped it back.

"Trelawney predicted I'd develop a horrible rash in unseen places." Ron snickered, and Hermione reached across to smack his shoulder. Harry grinned and finished, "She said this would help make it go away."

"Well, you can tell her it worked wonders, since your rash is completely nonexistent," Hermione said. She had always been proud of having walked out of Divination, and only occasionally regretted it when Ron and Harry came back with silly stories of what they'd made up. The teachers began to file into the room through a side door, and the students began to quiet and wait for any announcements.

After another reminder about the Quidditch match tomorrow afternoon, and the resulting canceled classes, the golden plates appeared in front of them on the table, as well as all the food they could ever wish for. Hermione seemed quite happy that Ron had taken such an interest in one of her classes that was apart from them. Harry smiled at her and Ron as they continued to talk. He didn't really want to talk at the moment, not to mention he didn't have much to add to the conversation except help with the occasional explanation of some Muggle artifact when Hermione had trouble getting its purpose across to Ron.

It was interesting to listen to them, though, and they seemed content to let him. Even Neville got into the conversation for a few minutes, and a few others of their year who were also in Divination asked where Ron had been. They were stuck for a moment on what to say to that, not really wanting to confirm the long going rumor that Harry had an invisibility cloak. Hermione saved it, and said that she'd asked the teacher if Ron could sit in with her as he had a spare period. Any of them who knew Professor Tast knew she wouldn't mind, and most likely not even inquire as to whether Ron had a spare or not.

Since the class was with the Hufflepuffs, no one at the Gryffindor table could say that they never saw Ron there, but none had seen him in Divination. The conversation continued, but Harry had turned most of his attention back to his meal and started thinking about his homework and the Quidditch match tomorrow. Gryffindor would play the winner of the match the next weekend, and Harry couldn't wait. He looked up at Ron and Hermione and tried to listen, but his attention was sucked through the gap between numerous heads as he caught a glimpse of silver blond hair through the people swaying and moving. The Ravenclaw table and half of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were in the way before he could see the usual place Draco normally sat.

With so many people, it was hard to see anything more than small fragments of people, but Harry watched, and soon saw most of Draco's face, though he wasn't looking Harry's way. Why would he be, though? He was probably talking to his friends about something that had nothing at all to do with Harry. Well, he didn't think Draco would be talking about him anyway, especially to the Slytherins. He had as much to lose as Harry did if anyone knew they'd been together and weren't in a fist fight or something like that.

The four rows of students obscured his way again, and Harry looked for a moment more, but didn't see Draco again. Ron shoved him, getting his attention, as Hermione had seen him staring off into space. "Huh?" he said when he focused on Hermione's concerned face.

"I said, what are you gawking at?" Ron said, shoving a mouthful of roast beef into his mouth. He chewed it carefully, minding not to open his mouth as he did so. Hermione had beat that habit out of him years ago.

"Nothing, just thinking about the match tomorrow. I wonder who we'll play next weekend," Harry said. It wasn't really a lie; he had been thinking about that, though it was more along the lines of, would he have to play against Draco? The conversation around him turned to Quidditch, but Harry was thankful it passed quickly, as he hadn't really wanted to talk about it. He wanted to play Slytherin, truthfully, just for the intense strategy it involved. He knew, though, that the rest of his team would prefer to play Hufflepuff, as it was more fun and they didn't have to watch their backs in case Crabbe or Goyle decided to ram into them. Being hit by a speeding Crabbe was not healthy.

Students began to leave the hall when they finished their supper, and departed through the open doors, off to their common rooms to complete homework, or off to a group meeting. Harry looked down at his plate. He'd actually eaten a lot, and that was a bit surprising to him before he thought about it further. He'd been too preoccupied to sit down and have a decent meal for the last few days. Ron was still eating as well, but Hermione had pushed her plate aside about five minutes ago, and it vanished, leaving her room to pull out a text and open it up. She and Ron were still in a deep conversation about something or other. Harry wasn't really paying attention anymore.

Harry put the last spoonful of his dessert into his mouth, and wished he could lean back and pat his full stomach without falling out of his seat. He'd probably end up whacking his head on the Hufflepuff bench behind him. He looked around the Hall and was again surprised to see how many people had left in the last minute or two, but he looked at the clock, and it'd been half an hour since they'd come into the Great Hall. That was usually how long it took most people, who of course weren't engaged in conversation, too busy to eat.

He suddenly looked up and across the room at the Slytherin table, wondering if he'd have a clear view of Draco now. Harry frowned when he couldn't see the other boy. He looked back down at his bowl, and it vanished from sight, as one of the elves downstairs whisked it away, and a new bowl of pudding appeared a foot down the table from Harry. He thought about having some of it, smelling the warm wafts of chocolate it was giving off. His stomach was a bit tense, though, and he didn't want to make himself sick.

Harry was about to say something to Ron and Hermione, to tell them he was going back to the common room, when he caught sight of familiar blond hair, and almost grinned when he saw Draco slide into his line of sight at the Slytherin table. He must have been behind someone and just moved back into his spot, or went to grab some food or something from down the table. He didn't think Draco ate too much, being as skinny as he was, but he could have had a really good metabolism and eaten like a pig or something.

Draco looked up as he put a spoon in his mouth, and caught Harry's eyes. Merlin, he'd just shoved a spoon into his mouth, he must look like an idiot. He'd never felt like he was being watched before when he ate, but now that he knew Harry could watch him do just that, he didn't think he could finish any more dessert. Draco pulled the spoon out of his mouth and made a small show of licking the remaining pudding off the curved utensil, turning the tables and taking advantage of the dark-haired voyeur across the room.

Harry was clearly interested in the way his tongue slid up the edge of the spoon, and when Draco set it down, he had planned on getting up and swaggering out of the room, leaving Harry staring at the spot he'd been occupying. To his surprise, Harry seemed quite composed, and Draco frowned, not quite understanding the expression on Harry's face. But when Harry tipped his head towards the doors, and darted his eyes to them, and then back to Draco, looking at him purposefully, Draco didn't think he could mistake that gesture. He gave one slow, purposeful decline of his head in a nod, picking up his spoon again and toying with his pudding, not looking back up at Harry at all. He said something to Goyle; Harry only saw his lips move, and then watched Draco push his bowl aside (it disappeared) and then get up from the table and leave the room without a backwards glance.

Harry wondered for a moment whether Draco had understood him, but he decided to wait a minute before following, hoping that Draco wouldn't have gone far or hidden somewhere Harry wouldn't think to look. He told Ron and Hermione that he was going back to the common room, and that he'd show Ron what they were supposed to do for their Divination homework in full when they got back to Gryffindor Tower. They'd have fun making up their usual ridiculous predictions as they always did, and Ron laughed and agreed, saying he'd be along in a bit. Hermione agreed as well, shutting her book and saying they'd leave as soon as she finished what was left of her meal.

Harry nodded and said he'd see them later, and started out of the room. He made it past the doors; there was less than fifteen students in the hall, and Harry scanned through them, looking for Draco. He spotted the other boy at the notice board, feigning to read the pieces of parchment posted there, but Harry saw him glance his way out the corner of his eye. Harry watched, pretending to stop and adjust his bag, hefting it higher on his shoulder so that it wouldn't slip off, and waited for Draco to give him some type of signal. He did just that, with a tip of his head, and Harry followed his direction and walked right by the blond, on his way down a corridor that was very much in the opposite direction of Gryffindor Tower.

He kept walking and was wondering if Draco would actually follow and tell him where to go again, because he was starting into unfamiliar territory and didn't feel like getting lost. He didn't even have his map with him; it was up in his trunk. Draco waited until Harry was out of sight around a corner down the hall, then turned and went after him, slowly, as if he hadn't a care in the world and was just going for a stroll down the hall. If anyone asked, he'd tell them he was patrolling. That gave him an idea, and he grinned, speeding up his steps slightly to catch up with Harry.

Not even hearing another set of footsteps, Harry suddenly felt a hand close around his arm. He turned to see Draco, and almost smiled, but stopped before it came out, as he had no idea how Draco would react to him smiling at him. Draco smirked and turned, pulling Harry behind him. "We're almost there," he said, no longer whispering. Harry still didn't recognize where they were, and in fact it seemed to become less and less familiar as they hurried along the quiet corridor.

Draco pulled him sharply around a corner and opened a door to the right quickly. Harry barely saw a key being put back into Draco's pocket before he was jerked inside and the door shut and relocked behind them. Harry stepped into the room as he began to look around. There were large burgundy and beige rugs with numerous large, squashy armchairs and the occasional small couch placed in a crude sort of circle. There were cushions on every chair, making them look so very inviting, and Harry moved to sit down in one of the larger ones. "What is this place?"

Draco watched as Harry sat down heavily into one of the chairs, and walked towards him. "The Prefects' meeting room. There isn't a meeting for days, so no one will come in here. I've locked the door; the only way it can be opened is if I open it, or if it's someone outside who knows who's in here." Harry nodded and watched, slowly becoming nervous as Draco walked towards him. "And who would ever guess Draco Malfoy was about to shag Harry Potter?"

Harry just stared back at Draco as he squatted down onto his haunches in front of Harry's chair. "That is what you wanted, isn't it?" Draco asked him when he hadn't replied. Harry nodded, and before he realized what was going on, he felt smooth hands snaking up his thighs to rest on his crotch. Draco gave Harry's cock a little squeeze before moving to undo the fastenings of his pants and reach in to pull out Harry's now half hard cock.

Draco smirked, pleased at the groan he elicited from the other boy as he continued stroking Harry's cock to its now fully hard length. Harry leaned his head back against the backrest of the chair, eyes closing at the pleasurable sensations running through his body as Draco pumped his hand up and down his erection. Without prior warning, Draco took his hand away completely, which prompted Harry to open his eyes in confusion. His eyes settled on Draco's as the blond slowly began to stand, though leaning towards him as he did so.

Harry felt like his heart stopped and he held his breath, watching the other boy. He almost thought Draco was going to kiss him, and Harry gave his lips the barest of licks and closed his eyes for just a second, waiting, before opening them again. When he did, he frowned at Draco, who had passed his lips by completely, now standing in front of the chair Harry was sitting in. Draco raised an eyebrow at him as he held out a hand. Harry looked at it and slowly lifted his own to meet it, but before he accomplished that, Draco moved his hand forward to grab Harry's impatiently.

He pulled Harry up out of the chair to stand in front of him, and quickly moved his hands to the fastenings of the dark-haired boy's trousers. Harry couldn't look down at what Draco was doing, because he knew he'd probably whack his forehead into Draco's. This was going well so far, and he really didn't want to ruin the mood by doing something stupid like that. Harry shivered slightly when his trousers dropped down his legs to pool at his feet, and Draco felt it as well. He smiled to himself and smoothed his fingers over Harry's hips, pushing the other boy's boxers down in the process.

Pressing his thighs together as best he could to let the elastic waist band go loose and join his trousers, Harry looked at Draco. The blond lifted his head and he could feel Harry's breath on his face, as they were only a cock's length away from each other, and Draco wanted to get his out as soon as possible and close that distance. He could have sworn he felt small goose bumps as he drifted his fingers up under Harry's shirt, lifting the hem of it as he went. Harry raised his arms above his head to help Draco as the blond slipped the shirt over his head and off his arms, finally flinging it somewhere off to the left.

Harry was almost in a complete daze by the happenings so far. He didn't have any complaints, but this certainly wasn't how he was expecting to finish off his night. This? This was a bonus, he thought. Usually Draco spared minimal time in divesting the two of them of their trousers and most times didn't bother with anything else as they shagged. Harry hadn't noticed he'd closed his eyes, but when he felt Draco's body heat move a step back, he opened them. Draco had already taken his shirt off, and was now unzipping his trousers, letting them drop just as he had Harry's.

The blond didn't wear any underwear, and Harry's eyes ran down from the lightly muscled chest to the smooth abs, and then were stilled by the sight of Draco's cock. His own gave a twitch, and he realized this was the first time he'd seen the other boy's cock in full. Draco stepped out from the legs of his trousers, and Harry felt a little smile pulling at his lips at the sight of Draco's feet, before Harry noticed that he must have had his shoes on still as well, and wondering when Draco had taken his own off. How long had he been staring? It must have been before he'd taken his trousers off, as Harry didn't see any shoes when Draco kicked his clothes aside.

Draco moved forward, recapturing the space between himself and Harry again, taking Harry by the wrist and leading him away from the chair. Harry wasn't prepared to be pulled, and almost fell from his feet being stuck in his shoes, tied together by the legs of his trousers. He tugged against Draco's hold and the blond stopped. Draco frowned as he watched Harry toe his shoes off, pressing his thumb absently into the pulse at Harry's wrist. Just as soon as Harry was finished, Draco pulled on his wrist, leading him into a larger space on the floor in the center of all the chairs.

Draco let go of him and moved to grab a couple cushions from a chair, and Harry took the time to shuck his socks off his feet and toss them aside. He'd always thought people looked funny wearing just socks, especially black ones. Draco turned back around and dropped the pillows on the floor and stepped almost flush to Harry. Harry stared blankly back at him, and couldn't help but squirm when Draco's erection brushed against his own. His eyes closed again, and he felt himself being pushed down. Draco had his hand over Harry's shoulder, firmly pushing Harry until he'd landed on his knees, facing Draco.

Draco watched as Harry opened his eyes again to look up at him. Draco took hold of his cock and wondered if he should take advantage of Harry's position and make the brunet suck him off. He didn't think he'd feel as good of a release that way as he would pounding out his orgasm into Harry's arse, though. Draco looked back at Harry before walking around him and dropped down on the other cushion on the floor behind Harry. Harry let out a small gasp when he felt Draco's arms wind around his body, smoothing down his stomach to grip his cock.

Draco pressed his chest to Harry's back, and stroked Harry's cock slowly as he nudged some hair out of the way with his nose to have better access to the other boy's ear. "Do you have some type of oil on you?" Draco whispered, snaking out his tongue to flick at the back of Harry's earlobe.

"Er," Harry said, quite eloquently, if he might say. He swallowed and blinked his eyes, forcing himself to think instead of just succumbing to the warm sensation spreading in tendrils through his body, starting at his cock. "Actually, I do," he finally got out, remembering the jar he'd gotten from Professor Trelawney. "It's in my bag." In their past experiences with each other, Draco had usually spat in his hand and got it over with, and not that Harry had a problem with proper lubrication, it was just a stark change, and he hadn't been expecting it.

He also hadn't been completely aware that his words would take the heat Draco's body pressed against him made, and move the blond to pull Harry's school bag towards them. He heard Draco rummaging around his bag until he'd found what he guessed was the oil, or the closest to oil they were going to get at the moment.

Why Potter has a bottle of purple oil in his bag, I'll never know, Draco thought, but he welcomed it all the same. He shook his head as he twisted the lid off the small jar and poured a generous amount of the purple substance into his hand.

It smelled like lilacs, or something flowery like that. He really wasn't sure, since he never really cared much for flowers or their smells. He set the bottle down and pressed his hand against Harry's lower back, pushing the boy down onto his hands, lifting his arse into the air. With the hand containing the puddle of oily flower essences, and he couldn't believe he'd just thought that, Draco ran it slowly down the crevice between Harry's cheeks.

He tried not to let the oil drip too much, and his cock ached to rock itself up and down that slick valley, but he held back. Draco circled Harry's hole with his index finger before finally slipping it inside, smiling when he heard Harry moan. He quickly added a second and then third finger to his quest, making sure to stretch his fingers out as best he could. When Harry started to press back, wanting more of his fingers, wanting them deeper, Draco knew he couldn't resist, and pulled his fingers out.

Draco picked up the almost half empty jar and poured a bit more of the sweet smelling liquid into his palm, he then set the jar back down and began to liberally coat his straining cock with the smooth oil. He stepped forward on his knees, bringing himself closer to Harry's arse, and put his clean hand onto Harry's hip, and used the other to guide his leaking erection to the slickened hole. He pushed forward, making sure he was going to penetrate the small hole, and then pushed the entire length of his cock in, in one stroke.

"Ugh!" Harry ground out between gritted teeth when Draco thrust into him. "Draco," he gasped out, and Draco took it as encouragement to begin with, but when he began to slide his cock out, Harry had another thing to say about it. "Don't."

Draco stilled, cock half inside Harry, and asked, "What?" He didn't know if he'd heard Harry correctly, but hearing his name from the other boy's mouth was nice. It could very well have been the first time he'd ever said it out loud, to Draco, at least.

"It hurts," Harry said softly, not knowing how Draco would take his putting voice to his physical feelings. "Go slower," he ventured to say, hoping the blond wouldn't do just the opposite of his request. Draco stayed still, not really knowing what to think of what Harry had said. Harry was about to pull away from Draco, but the blond seemed to snap himself out of it and started to slide slowly back into Harry's hole.

Harry breathed out slowly, wanting to wipe the initial pain away, and he turned his head a bit, but could only see Draco out of his peripheral vision. "I'm still a bit sore," he said quietly, wanting to give a bit of an explanation. He didn't want Draco to be completely slow and boring, because, in truth, he rather liked the rough thrusting that Draco seemed fond of when he really got into it.

Draco closed his eyes and frowned slightly, trying to go slow enough, and he listened for any other protests Harry might have had. No more came, and he only heard the other boy's low pants as he slowly thrust his cock in and out of the tight hole. Finally, after pushing himself all the way inside of Harry, he paused a moment, and rocked his hips slightly. He felt his balls rub against Harry's skin, and forced himself to stop so as not to come too soon. Despite the times before this that they'd shagged, Harry was still as tight as the first time.

He moaned low in his throat at the tight, velvety feel of Harry's passage gently squeezing his length, egging him to just pound into him. Once he'd steadied his breathing into a somewhat normal rhythm, Draco slowly pulled out half way and thrust back in, adding a bit of speed now. He almost missed the sharp gasp from the other boy as he hit Harry's prostate on that stroke, but he smiled to himself at the moan that followed afterwards.

Draco definitely wasn't going as fast as he usually did, or as hard as he wanted to right now, but he'd been asked to take it slow. If he had known he had hurt Harry previously, he would have been more careful, but this wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, to go slow. He could feel every little sensation better against his cock, the tight, gripping heat. Harry was feeling just the same as Draco, and he had to admit to himself that he missed the hard pace that they had become sort of accustomed to, and he had to ask for more. "Harder," Harry said, just loud enough for the blond to hear him.

"Yeah?" Draco asked, speeding up slightly, and gripping his hands tighter over Harry's hips. Harry pushed back eagerly, and Draco angled to hit his prostate again.

Harry moaned and agreed, "Yes." And couldn't help but groan as Draco slowly pulled out of him. He wanted to beg the blond boy to go harder and faster, to forget he'd ever said to go slow. Draco was all too happy to comply, and he'd pulled his hips all the way back until only the very tip of his erection was inside of Harry. He stilled like that for just an excruciatingly long moment before slamming hard back into the tight hole, his hips hitting with a sharp smack against Harry's arse.

"Aah!" Harry moaned out, the loudest yet, and his head was spinning from the pleasure so that he was unprepared for the next thrust. Draco pulled back again and thrust as hard as he could, repeating his previous actions, but this time, he completely knocked Harry off balance. The dark-haired boy was unsettled and pushed forward off his hands, landing with a thud on the cool wooden floor on his elbows.

Harry's head hung forward, letting his fringe fall over his eyes, his head almost touching the floor. He began to pant heavily, his mouth open, as Draco picked up the speed. After being shoved down into his current position, Harry had now steadied himself on his forearms, trying to physically keep himself in place at the force of Draco's thrusts, threatening to push him forward on each stroke. Each slap of the blond's hips against his arse made each thrust all the more stimulating than the last.

Draco held on to Harry's hips, unconsciously massaging with his fingers, which was camouflaged as readjusting his grip. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he'd kept them shut since Harry had spoken, and watched the lean back in front of him. He could see a thin layer of sweat starting to glisten over the expanse of Harry's back, and Draco almost felt like smoothing his hands over it.

"Oh, god!" Harry cried out when a particularly rough thrust nudged hard against his prostate. He almost thought to tell Draco to stop again, to make sure no internal damage had been done. He felt almost disconnected from his lower body, and he wished he could wank himself off in time to Draco's thrusts.

His breathing was becoming as erratic as his thrusts, and Draco felt himself nearing his completion. Not wanting to come before the other boy, Draco leaned forward a bit, having to slow the movement of his hips, and slid a hand along Harry's hip and across his thigh. Harry gasped when he felt Draco's hand close around his cock, and tried to drive forward into the tight fist. His attempt threw them both off any sort of pattern of thrusts they'd gained, but they soon recovered.

Draco was jerking him off in time with his thrusting, and Harry found the strength to lift his head to stop a gob of welled up spit from slipping past his lips onto the floor in front of him. He swallowed, and gasped when his throat was opened up again, moaning out his appreciation of the dual pleasure he was receiving. The feeling of the hand on his cock, wanking him, and Draco's cock pumping in and out of his hole was becoming too much, and he knew it, feeling his orgasm become so close he wanted to scream.

He felt his muscles begin to tighten around Draco, and Harry loved the feeling of it almost as much as Draco did, and he let out a harsh moan as his cock twitched and began to spurt. Draco added his own moan to Harry's as the tightening of the other boy's muscles squeezed them around Draco's cock perfectly, milking his orgasm painfully hard from his body. His stomach tensed as he came inside of Harry, and he leaned forward, resting against Harry's back.

When their orgasms had subsided and they began to catch their breath, Harry didn't think he could hold them both up anymore, and he shifted slightly. Draco got the hint and lifted himself off Harry, and looked down at his cock, still half hard and inside Harry. He pulled back slowly, and watched the small hole stay stretched open, but the muscles tensed themselves in a crude manner like waving goodbye, and again, Draco couldn't believe he'd thought that.

His breath was still ragged, and Draco set a hand on the edge of a chair to steady himself as he stood. He didn't really want to go anywhere at the moment, so he opted for just collapsing into said chair, the one Harry had been occupying before they'd begun. Draco raised an amused eyebrow at the picture before him, of Harry still in the same position he'd left him in; arse up, face down. Though he'd let his head droop down again, and twined his fingers through his hair. Draco thought he looked rather good like that before he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to even out.

Harry slowly felt his body begin to cool, as the sweat he'd generated started to dry. He pushed himself up shakily, and wondered for a second whether Draco had already left, before he saw the blond sitting in the chair to his side, eyes closed and chest still rising and falling rapidly. He unknowingly mimicked Draco's actions for standing up, and soon found he wasn't too stable to be walking around just yet, and he sat down on the edge of the chair beside Draco. It really was almost big enough for two, and Draco peeled open an eye to look at the messy hair on the back of Harry's head when he felt the edge of the chair dip.

Turning his head around to look at Draco, Harry found the other boy looking at him. If he had been unsure before of what kind of relationship this was turning out to be, he sure as hell didn't know now, either. Whatever questions showed in his eyes, Draco must have been ignoring them, because he didn't say anything.

After a moment, Draco lifted a hand and hooked it around Harry's upper arm and pulled him back. Harry let himself be moved, even scooting his arse back to sit more comfortably, though wincing as he did so as the rough corduroy of the cushion brushed against sensitive skin. Draco's shoulders were broader than his own, and Harry was surprised to feel that the blond's arm was still behind him, almost holding him as they sat there together.

Harry was laying almost half against Draco's chest, and he could feel the other boy's breathing return to normal. Draco wasn't entirely sure why he'd pulled Harry to him, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time, so he'd done it. It wasn't uncomfortable, either. He had seen the confused look on Harry's face, wondering what they were doing, and Draco had tried not to think about that particular issue himself lately.

He breathed in steadily, and let out a warm breath over Harry's shoulder, and Draco felt the other boy shift slightly. Draco tipped his head down, acting on impulse, and rubbed his cheek softly against Harry's skin before smoothing his lips over it to press a soundless kiss to Harry's shoulder. He didn't know why he did it, but he felt the urge to continue, opening his lips slightly and giving a slightly more wet kiss to the same spot, tasting the skin a little with his tongue.

When Harry felt Draco's lips against his shoulder, he was surprised, to say the least. He had no idea where it was coming from, but he decided he'd liked it. Draco pulled his head back and let it hit the backrest again, really trying not to think about what he was doing with Potter basically in his lap, both of them naked, and having just had the best shag of his life. Clearing his throat quickly, Draco slid out from behind Harry and stood up, crossing to where his trousers had been thrown and bending down to pick them up.

Harry fell back against the empty chair and stared after Draco for a moment before shifting to the edge of the chair. The bundle of clothes Draco picked up was not only his trousers, but Harry's as well, and he tossed the second pair over to Harry. He barely caught the garment with his hands rather than his head and Harry reached down one of the legs to retrieve his underwear.

He stood up slowly, feeling a lot more steady on his feet than when he'd first sat down, and began to put on his boxers. It was then he noticed just how sticky his arse was becoming, and he really hoped he found a bathroom on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Draco was already dressed by the time Harry completed fastening his trousers, and he moved to grab his shirt off the floor. He pulled the sweater over his head and absently tried to flatten his hair as he watched the other boy. The blond wasn't paying him any attention, and Harry found himself presented with the usual aloofness that Draco most often displayed.

"Uhm," Harry began, and Draco was drawn away from tucking in his shirt tails to look expectantly at Harry. "Good luck at the match tomorrow."

Draco looked like that was something he hadn't been expecting at all, and slowly nodded, a slight frown creasing his forehead. He lifted a hand to brush back a few errant strands of his usually slick hair, smoothing out the frown as well. "Thanks," he said, and grabbed his robe from where he'd slung it over the arm of a chair. He slipped it on and grinned at Harry before opening the door and walking out of the room.

Harry looked back at him for a moment, gave a small smile in return, and then Draco was gone, the door still slightly ajar. Harry couldn't even hear footsteps in the hall, and he knew he wouldn't see Draco down the hall when he left the room. He leaned down, slowly, as he was a bit sore still, even if this was a much more pleasant experience, to grab the open jar, now half empty. He screwed the lid back onto it and set it back in his bag. He pulled the drawstrings on it and hefted it onto his shoulder.

He gave one final look at himself and decided he'd have to stop in a lavatory for sure, as soon as he found one on his way back. Harry wasn't even quite sure where he was, but he knew the general direction that Draco had led him in, so he'd just have to go in the general direction to find his way back to a more familiar hall. He left the room, shutting the door behind him, and started on his way back to the Great Hall. He didn't think he could find his way straight to Gryffindor Tower from where he was now. In fact, he wasn't even completely sure where he was at the moment. Perhaps he'd check on his map before he went to sleep.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Harry ducked into the bathroom that he and Draco had 'occupied' the other day. The rest of his trek back to Gryffindor Tower was uneventful, and when he finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait, he had to think for a minute before the password came back to him. "Billywig," Harry said to her, and she nodded and swung herself open.

@>*~