Crossing Lines

Alone in his bed, Harry reached up to gently touch his lips. Malfoy had kissed him; not just any kiss, not a peck on the forehead or the cheek, that would have been disturbing enough, but a lip to lip full on kiss. There had even been a little tongue action; Malfoy had kissed him and he had kissed back.

Well of course he’d kissed back; what did one do when kissed? It was almost a primal instinct, right? Right, even he knew how weak that sounded. He hated Malfoy, didn’t he? Of course he did, Malfoy was a git, but god he could kiss. You can’t kiss someone like that and not mean anything by it.

But hadn’t Malfoy pretty much admitted that it meant nothing to him? ‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ Of course that had been after his angry outburst. He knew Malfoy thought he was upset about the kiss itself, which in truth that was a little upsetting, but not enough to make him mad. No, his anger was because of Malfoy’s deflecting reaction to Harry’s question afterwards.

Why? That was all he’d wanted to know. If the other boy had given him a real response, an idea of whether or not to take him and his actions seriously, he could have handled the situation a whole lot better. Enemy or not he didn’t want to be the cause of any real emotional pain for Malfoy. If he had admitted to being truly interested in Harry he would have let him down a lot easier.

That couldn’t be the case though, they hated each other and he knew that wasn’t one-sided. So, it had to be that Malfoy was just fucking with him. He thought back over the night again and actually paused to consider the events leading up to the kiss.

Harry had seen Malfoy mad, but as he was being backed into that corner, the other was positively red without right fury. He’d been livid with Harry for…….. showing off? No, not that, focusing on the words alone that was an easy conclusion to draw, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes told a different story altogether. He had been worried, truly concerned for Harry’s safety.

Why would he be worried? The only conclusion Harry could come to when he added the worry with that bloody kiss was that Malfoy must care about him. Oh hell, the way he’d treated the other boy, not only rejecting him, but threatening him was just cruel. Of course Harry couldn’t accept all the blame, if Draco had only told him, things would have gone a whole lot differently.

Draco? Well, it was only fair to refer to someone by their first name if they had a thing for you, right? Sure, but why was this bothering him so much? Harry wasn’t really one for exploring his subconscious too much, but it only took a little probing to determine the cause of his distress; he kissed back. Not only did he not try to push the other boy away, he returned the kiss, and he enjoyed it. He’d even taken a moment to let the ‘what ifs’ float around his brain while he waited for Draco’s explanation.

Bloody hell, was he interested in Draco…or maybe more importantly, was he gay? No, definitely the most pressing issue at hand was his possible attraction to the Slytherin king. He’d never found other boys arousing, so why had he been so anxious for Dr- Malfoy to admit that it was more than just a tease?

It was a bloody hot kiss that was why. It had really only lasted a few seconds, but apparently that was long enough for Harry to have played out several different scenarios for how it would end. None of which had included him insulting or threatening the other boy. He’d actually considered willfully dying by suffocation when he’d felt Malfoy’s tongue darting out to taste him.

He’d only pulled back then because he needed to know without a doubt that Malfoy was serious before going any further. The urge to sink his tongue into that tempting mouth was so strong that he’d had to retreat. He couldn’t do something so stupid as to give Malfoy even more ammunition without at least getting verbal assurance that it wasn’t a joke.

That’s when it had all fallen apart; of course Malfoy hadn’t ‘admitted’ that he was only antagonizing until after Harry had threatened him, but still. He’d made light of it, danced around Harry’s question, pretended he didn’t care or even particularly want the kiss that he’d initiated. That was just as good as saying it meant nothing.

So what could Harry do? Even if he’d wanted to explore this a little farther, he really no longer had the option. Instead of being willing to take a risk, he’d allowed his anger and indignation to take control. Really though, who could blame him? He’d really never been attracted to other boys, and Malfoy had never been anything but an arse. So, he decided to feel justified in his approach to the situation and settled in for a fitful night of sleep and unknowingly many more to come. More than once he had dreams of a very young, white haired, silver eyed boy reaching out in friendship…and every time his dream self laughed and turned away.