Harry Potter 1. Chapter One

A/N: Okay. Hello again to all you ppl who read my fics…or just this one. Whatever. Anyway, here's a friendly neighborhood warning to all you homophobes: THIS IS SLASH. YES. SLASH. S-L-A-S-H. WOO HOO. IF YOU DON'T LIKE DON'T READ AND DON'T FLAME BECAUSE I WILL CHEW YOU A NEW ONE ASKING WHY THE FUCK YOU ARE READING THIS WHEN I FUCKING SPELLED IT OUT FOR YOU. Whew. Now that that's over, do enjoy, will you?

Disclaimer: Oh but of course I own this. I am secretly J.K. Rowling in disguise getting rid of my slashy ideas so that they don't pop up in the books. Riiight. 

Harry had a Plan. A Plan that, surprisingly, was concocted without the help of Ron and Hermione, and, also surprisingly, was foolproof. True, Ron really wouldn't have been much help as any plan they had made up together had eventually fallen through, mostly because neither paid much attention to details and both spent most of their plan time stating and restating the obvious. Usually, they got about halfway through their plans before admitting defeat and going to Hermione for help. She would then proceed to lecture them for hours about how irresponsible and, in her genius opinion, stupid they were being before finally relenting and helping them correct their numerous mistakes, therefore making whatever plan they had that week perfect. Harry had wondered on several occasions why she bothered helping he and Ron if what they were doing was so wrong, but as he had quite an attachment to his ears and didn't particularly feel like subjecting them to yet another of Hermione's outraged rants, he wisely said nothing. 

 In short, most plans were a group effort, but this time Harry had felt the need to make a Plan alone, knowing that neither Ron nor Hermione would approve or understand this particular endeavor. And really, how could he explain it to them? "Hey, Ron, I know that he's a smarmy git, but he's a **sexy**smarmy git"? Or how about going to Hermione and saying, "Yeah, I know that he makes your life hell, what with the name-calling and such, but really, he wont be saying much with my tongue down his throat"? Oh yes, that should go over just splendidly. 

It wasn't a matter of his sexuality. Both of his friends had known he was bi since the summer after fifth year, and were supportive. No, and it wasn't his sexual preference that they'd be appalled at, it was his choice of partner. Which was why he'd come up with the Plan all on his own, hoping that it would work. 

Stage One of the plan was put into effect when he made an excuse to go back to his dorm after only an hour of studying in the library. Hermione had sent Harry a disapproving Look, but she hadn't said anything, which was odd, and Ron hadn't volunteered to go with Harry, which was odder still. Yet Harry wasn't about to question actions that benefited him, no matter how strange such actions were. 

After exiting the library, Harry turned left, the opposite direction from the Gryffindor tower. Making his way down the corridors, Harry thought about Stage Two of the Plan. He needed the Room of Requirement, but that was no problem. He knew how to get there and how to access the Room itself. All Harry needed was the correct words, and as he finally reached the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy with his troll ballet, he figured them out. 

Smiling in anticipation, Harry walked past the wall across from the tapestry three times, concentrating hard, and sure enough, a door appeared in the wall. Feeling a bit of nervousness now that his Plan was nearly complete, Harry grabbed the brass handle, and after only a slight hesitation, pulled the door open and stepped inside, grinning as took in the sight before him. 

There was a blazing fire going, making the room just the right temperature. In one corner there was a large bed, and in the other there was a door which Harry knew would lead to a bathroom where both boys would be able to clean up in case any-ahem-_messy_ activity should occur. 

But Harry hardly noticed any of this, as his eyes were trained on the spot in front of him. There, in the very center of the room stood Draco Malfoy, blond hair disheveled, and a confused look in his gorgeous grey eyes. Harry took a step toward the boy, letting go of the door, and it shut of its own accord with a small _click!_ As the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the room, Draco glanced over at Harry, and the confused look left his eyes, to be replaced with hatred so pure Harry actually felt the temperature of the room drop ten degrees. Still, Harry hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, and he was determined carry through with his Plan. 

With this in mind, he stepped towards Draco, and was gratified to see the other boy's cold expression falter as he backed away from Harry. Harry grabbed Draco's arm to prevent this, and the other boy's eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing into an expression of catlike pleasure as Harry ran the fingers of his free hand through blond locks. 

Suddenly, Draco jerked out of Harry's grasp, an expression of fear on his face. He pushed past Harry and ran at the door, wrenching it open. Or trying to, as the door didn't budge. Snarling, he turned Harry and hissed, "What the hell _is_ this, Potter?" 

Harry smiled. 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: And the second chappie is here! Woo-hoo, I finished it in less than a month. * does happy dance *. Sorry, I'm just really proud of myself right now…anyone who's following my other fic, Twisted Obsession, will know why. Anyway, I want to thank my reviewers so far…you're what got my happy rear on my pc to type this chappie out. There is one thing, tho. Someone asked me if I had taken Luci Shadow's idea. The answer, my friends, is no. Any resemblance to her (?) fic is strictly coincidence. Just wanted to clear that up. Also wanted to apologize for the lack of humor and the moment when I channeled Lemony Snicket…a cookie to whoever knows where that happened… now that I am done babbling, on with the show! (or something like that…) 

Draco Malfoy was having a Bad Day. When he'd gotten up in the morning, he'd stubbed his toe on one of the books he'd thrown to the floor after studying. While he'd been hopping up and down, clenching his toe and howling, he had hopped on his Potions homework, which made him fall while simultaneously ripping the parchment and making all the studying he had done the night before worthless. Cursing, Draco had nevertheless gotten up to get ready for classes. Of course, more bad luck awaited him in the bathroom. 

First, his feet betrayed him yet again as they slipped on a bar of soap that someone (most likely Goyle) had carelessly left after showering, and he fell for the second time in as many minutes. Groaning, Draco stood and stepped in the shower, turning on the hot water as high as it would go. It was common knowledge to the boys in Slytherin that Draco hated the cold, hated being cold, and therefore would use up all the hot water if allowed. Usually, they allowed it, for fear of Draco's father and the hell he could inflict upon them through his connection to You-Know-Who. Unfortunately for Draco, all of his housemates had showered and left, so there was no one to tell him that the hot water tab in the stall he was in was broken that morning. When the first spray of cold water hit him in the face, Draco let out a very undignified girl-like scream and bolted out of the stall, shivering and dripping. 

Abruptly deciding that he would have to forgo his shower this morning, Draco turned to the mirror, fully prepared to fix his hair before getting dressed. That's when he remembered that he'd used up the last of his hair gel the morning before. He'd meant to get some more on the Hogsmeade trip yesterday, but thanks to the combined efforts of Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, he had spent the whole time trying to avoid what the girls called "a shopping expedition" and what he called "the highest form of torture". Hence, no hair gel. 

Scowling, Draco looked at the supplies of his housemates, hoping for some hair gel. Alas, no one had any, and Draco almost decided not to go to class that day at all. Really, what was the point? It was obvious that today would not be a good day anyway; he might as well quit while he was only a little behind. After all, who knew what horrors the rest of the day would have? 

Deciding to just put his pajamas back on and crawl into bed, Draco went back into his room. He was just about to slide into bed when there came a tapping at the window. Curious, Draco looked over and spotted his father's eagle owl flying outside the window, looking extremely impatient. Knowing that having his father's owl outside his window rather than coming with the morning mail meant trouble, Draco reluctantly let the owl in, shivering more from recognizing the angry red of the Howler than the cold. The owl perched on Draco's bed whilst Draco took the Howler, and nipped his hand rather viciously when it realized he had no food to give it before flying out of the window. Bracing himself, Draco opened the Howler, fingers shaking, and immediately dropped it as his father's angry voice spilled out, loud and commanding. 

"I AM THOUROUGHLY ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY SON. I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF SPEAKING TO YOUR PROFESSORS YESTERDAY, AND THEY TOLD ME THAT MY **SON** IS BEING SURPASSED IN ALL SUBJECTS BY A **MUDBLOOD**. I SWEAR TO YOU, DRACO, THAT IF YOU DO NOT GET OFF YOUR ARSE AND IMPROVE YOUR SCORES I WILL TAKE MEASURES TO ENSURE THAT YOU **NEVER FAIL ME AGAIN**. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" 

The paper tore itself to shreds with the last sentence still echoing around the room. Still shivering slightly, Draco cleaned the mess up and decided against skipping class today. He moved to put on some robes, and as he did realized that he'd worn his last new pair the day before, and the others still hadn't been returned cleaned by the house elves yet. Still shell-shocked from the Howler, Draco got one of his robes from the year before and put it on, even forgetting to sneer at the thought that the robes fit him as good as they had last year because he hadn't grown an inch since third year. Draco started out of the dorm, then realized that he had missed breakfast and would need his books and had to backtrack. He forgot about the broken fifth step on his way up to Transfiguration and his ankle twisted painfully, but he kept on, his father's words still fresh in his mind. Professor McGonagall looked up as he limped into the classroom, and her eyes widened in surprise as she realized who besides Hormone Granger had entered her class early voluntarily. "Mr. Malfoy", she said dryly, "you are aware that class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, I presume?" Draco nodded indignantly. What did she think he was, an idiot? 

McGonagall gave him a look that said she did indeed think so, then asked, "And are you also aware that Slytherins don't have this class until one this afternoon?" Draco blinked at her dumbly for a second, then pulled out his timetable and groaned. She was right. He had Double Potions with the **Gryffindors** after breakfast. Draco felt a blush rising to his face, and tried his best to keep it down as he rose from his seat, avoiding his Professors laughing eyes as he limped towards the door. Noticing the limp, McGonagall called, "Mr. Malfoy?" 

Draco turned around reluctantly, and McGonagall continued, "If your leg is bothering you, perhaps you should go see Madame Pomfrey." Draco nodded once, curtly, and then exited the room. He decided to take the Professor's advice, and went to see Madame Pomfrey. She informed him he had a twisted ankle, asked him how he'd gotten it, and bitched about the step when he told her. Afterwards, she fixed him right up, and wrote a small note telling Filch to fix the broken stair. Draco walked quickly out of the infirmary to Potions, scowling whenever his un-gelled hair fell into his eyes. 

The best part about having his head of house hate everyone other than Slytherins was that Draco could walk into class at pretty much any time he pleased, and Professor Snape would not say a word about it. Now, if it had been Potter, Snape would have taken as many points as he could off of Gryffindor without seeming too harsh...which was usually a lot. So Draco knew that it was just his bad luck that Longbottom had destroyed yet another cauldron just before Draco walked in, consequently putting Snape into a horrible mood. (Well, more horrible than usual) 

Snape was livid. Draco walked into Potions twenty minutes late, acting as if he owned the world, and that just wasn't acceptable. Snape, who in truth was still bristling from the tongue lashing he had received from the boy's father the day before, decided right then that Draco would no longer be allowed to slack off in **his **classroom. 

"Mr. Malfoy", he said silkily, and across the room Harry Potter's head came up in surprise. Draco sneered at Potter before turning to Snape and replying, "Yes, Professor?" Snape gave Draco a truly malicious smile before saying, "Since you think that your time is infinitely more important than mine, I suggest using your time to learn the potion we are making today. Lunch, Malfoy...and don't even think about skipping." 

Draco stared at Snape in shock, unable to believe his ears. Did Snape-Harry Potter hating, Slytherin favoring, Draco Malfoy loving Snape-just give him a lunch detention? He just stood there, looking for all the world like a fish out of water, until Snape told him that if he didn't sit down right away he would be joining him for dinner as well as lunch. Draco sat down in a hurry, still wondering what the hell was up with Snape. He looked around the classroom, trying to get his bearings back, and whose eyes should he meet but Potter's. Draco gave Potter his best Death Glare before looking away, but his gaze had stayed a little too long for Snape's liking. 

"Potter, Malfoy," he said, upper lip curling into a sneer, "since you seem to be more interested in each other than my class, you can sit together for the remainder of it. Potter, move your things next to Malfoy." Potter made sound of protest, but Snape quickly cut him off, saying, "If you make one more sound, you will be spending lunch in here with Mr. Malfoy." 

That got Potter moving. He plunked next to Draco without looking at him, and immediately got to work on his potion. Draco began taking the notes that he had missed earlier, one thought rushing through his mind: **why me?**

~****~ 

Lunch had been a disaster. Draco had rushed to Snape's classroom, hoping to finish off his potion quickly and then go eat, as he hadn't eaten breakfast and was starving. He really should have known better. Instead of allowing Draco to just do his potion and leave, Snape had spent most of the time lecturing Draco on his sloppiness and irresponsibility, and how it was his, Severus Snape's, duty to make sure that Draco improved, at least in Potions. By the time that Draco was left to do his potion, lunch was almost over. Draco finished the potion in record time, but there was only three minutes left for him to get his books and get to class. 

The rest of the day wasn't that much better. All of his professors were rather testy with him as a result of his father's recent lecture. Even Professor Binns, who usually couldn't be bothered with caring about his students reactions to his lessons, made Draco sit right up front and got irritated when he noticed the boy's eyes glazing over. Draco really couldn't help it; History of Magic was his last class before dinner, and by the time it rolled around, he was so hungry he thought that he could devour a whole table full of food without problem. It didn't help much that the classroom was right next to the kitchens, and he could smell dinner cooking. Nope, it was a losing battle from the beginning. And really, how could Binns possible expect **anyone** who wasn't crazy to enjoy hearing him drone on and on about famous wizards in history?

By the end of class, he was so hungry that he could have eaten the very table he sat at with relish, uncaring that it was wood and therefore not particularly good to eat. As soon as class was over, Draco jumped out of his seat, fully prepared to flee to the Great Hall and devour his dinner, but Binns stopped him. "I do believe that we should talk, Mr. Malfoy", he began, and Draco tuned the professor out as he gave the same lecture Draco had gotten from every one of his professors that day, only delivered in the same lackluster tone Binns used during his lectures. 

Draco resisted the temptation to simply run through the ghost and to the Great Hall as the professor droned on for what seemed like hours, but was really only a few minutes…and then, finally, Draco was free. Free to gorge himself on all that delicious food he had smelled all through class. Draco ran to the Great Hall as fast as he could, feeling that if he could just get some hot food in his stomach, the day would seem more bearable. 

So he should have known what would happen. Draco made it to the doors of the Great Hall, made it close enough so that he could actually **see** all that food, sitting there on the tables, just waiting to be devoured, before he felt an insistent tugging behind his navel which was rather like the feeling he got when he touched a Portkey…and suddenly the Great Hall was no longer in front of him. What **was** in front of him, and around him, was a **bedroom**. There was a warm fire blazing, which Draco thought quite odd since there was no one occupying the room save himself, and he had just been transported here scant seconds before.

Upon further inspection Draco noted that there was a bed on one side of the room, a door across from him, and a door across from the bed. Figuring that one of the doors had to be the way out, and still hoping for some dinner, Draco started for the door across from him, but before he could so much as look up, the door opened.

In stepped one Harry Potter, possibly the last person that he wanted to see at the moment. Confusion immediately set in. Why was he here? How did Draco get here? And most importantly, why did Harry-bloody-Potter get his own room?

Draco was yanked out of his musings by the sound of the door clicking shut. Realizing wholly just who stood in front of him, Draco glared up at Potter, putting as much hate as he could muster on such short notice into it. Potter was unfazed, which annoyed Draco greatly. Potter was not supposed to be unaffected by the Malfoy Death Glare. Potter was supposed to be so scared that he was rendered immobile, leaving Draco free to get past him whilst throwing a parting shot over his shoulder.

But of course Potter had to be contradictory, so instead of shrinking away from Draco as he should have done, he took a step forward, causing Draco to step back with a slight prick of uneasiness. 

Quick as a flash Potter had grabbed Draco's arm, and Draco felt his eyes widen in surprise. He started to ask Potter just what the hell he thought he was doing, but was stopped when Potter's other hand started to run through his hair.

The sensation was completely new, as Draco had never had anyone run their fingers through his hair before, and even if they had, the gel helmet that he called his hair would have been too stiff to actually slide their fingers through. But because of the lack of gel, Potter's fingers brushed through Draco's hair effortlessly, and Draco was surprised at how **good** it felt. It didn't matter that it was Potter who was doing it; Draco was sure that it would have felt just the same if, say, Pansy had done it.

At least, he told himself that was the reason why he leaned into the touch, eyes almost closed with the comforting pleasure of having Potter's hands in his hair. Just before his eyes closed all the way, Draco glanced up into Potter's face, and he realized just **who** he was allowing to pet him. Eyes widening in an expression of total fear-mostly because he'd almost forgotten how much he hated Potter and leant into the touch-Draco jerked back. Quickly he pushed past Potter and rant to the door that the other boy had just come through, trying to wrench it open. It wouldn't budge. Furious, Draco whirled to face Potter and hissed, "What the hell **is** this, Potter?"

Potter smiled. Draco did not like that smile. That smile said that this had been Planned, and if there was anything Draco hated more than running out of hair gel, it was people-especially Potter and his little sidekicks-making Plans which included him, Draco Malfoy. 

When Potter finally opened his mouth to speak, he found himself cut off by a furious Draco. "Whatever Plan you have in that little brain of yours, Potter, " he snarled, "you can just forget. Now."

Draco's evil snarl was usually quite effective. He'd made third year Hufflepuffs piss their pants in fear of what might accompany the snarl. He'd reduced seventh-year Slytherins into quivering piles of terror at what that snarl implied. He had made all of Ravenclaw whimper in unison by the chill that the words that issued from that snarl held. He had never really tried it on any Gryffindor other than Longbottom, but he was sure that Potter here would react the same way that Longbottom had, with a squeal and a slump into a dead faint. He was so sure of himself that he almost smirked, which of course would have ruined the entire performance. It was an extreme effort, but Draco managed to hold the furious expression, knowing for certain that this was where Harry Potter met his doom.

So you can just imagine how much angrier poor Draco felt when Potter merely raised one eyebrow, presumably in an inquiry as to what the hell Draco thought he was accomplishing. Draco scowled. Damn Potter! Why did he have to be different from every other person Draco had ever used his snarl on?

"It's a gift", Potter said, and Draco blinked a bit before realizing that he'd spoken aloud. Potter was smirking and Draco really wished that he wouldn't. It threw his whole concept of reality off balance, because everyone knew that Draco was supposed to be the one smirking while Potter felt uncomfortable. It was just the way things worked at Hogwarts, and it really wasn't fair of Potter to change the rules without consulting Draco.

Draco was just about to inform Potter of this when the prat started speaking. "Look, Draco", he began, but Draco blocked him out, concentrating on the newest insanity. Potter had just called him Draco. Not Malfoy, not Ferret Face, but **Draco**. Draco leaned back slightly, studying Potter's face, looking for the telltale signs of insanity. **Hmmm…he's not twitching, not stumbling over his speech; his eyes aren't shifting back and forth, his—** "AHA!" Draco shouted, internal monologue abandoning him as he found a sign. Potter stopped speaking abruptly, and his hands stopped twisting together nervously as he stared at Draco.

Despite himself, Draco flushed, but he refused to look away. There was no way in hell he'd give this crazy person the upper hand. Sticking his rather pointed nose into the air-mostly to get his annoyingly loose hair out of his eyes-Draco told Potter in his haughtiest voice, "it has come to my attention that you are insane. I recognize the signs, Potter, and as much as I would normally enjoy seeing you go crazy, I must say that these were not the circumstances in which I had envisioned it happening. So I'll make a deal with you: you let me out of here and I will take you to Madame Pomfrey, you'll be treated and we'll both forget that this ever happened. Sound good to you?" he asked, crossing his fingers in hope. Draco had no intention of keeping that promise and every intention of tormenting Potter after he got out of this, but Potter needn't be aware of that information until later.

Potter stared at Draco hard; those disturbingly green eyes probing Draco's grey ones, making the blonde boy uncomfortable. Draco kept his face impassive with difficulty, and was just about to crack when Potter looked away. The boy seemed on the verge of tears. His mouth opened slowly, and Draco got ready to savor his victory.

But as I already mentioned earlier, this was just not Draco's day, so instead of sobbing, which Draco fully expected, Potter began to laugh.  He laughed loud and long, and every time he seemed to be slowing down, he would look at Draco and go off into another peal of laughter. Draco personally didn't see what was so funny, and said so, scowling so hard his face hurt. This wasn't the way that this was supposed to go. Potter was supposed to be sobbing his heart out with the realization that he had cracked; he was supposed to be a broken heap on the floor at Draco's feet, not laughing his bloody arse off.

Gradually Potter calmed down enough to look Draco full in the face. "I guess you wouldn't see the humor," he replied, and snorted. Draco glared. Potter sighed exasperatedly and shook his head. "I honestly thought you would have figured it out. Oh well, I guess I'll just tell you."

Once again Potter looked at Draco as though trying to see his soul, and once again Draco was trying not to squirm under that stare. **That's what he wants** he thought angrily. **He wants me to break. Well, it's not that easy, Potter. I can take whatever you throw at me. Be strong Draco, be strong.**

Potter was looking at him expectantly. Deciding that Potter had said something while he'd been thinking, Draco said, "Pardon?" 

Potter stared at Draco incredulously, mouth hanging open. Annoyed, Draco snapped, "Shut your damn mouth Potter, you look like an idiot. Not much change actually", he added as Potter shut his mouth. Potter smirked at Draco before replying, "Not half the idiot that you're proving yourself to be, Malfoy." Giving a long-suffering sigh, Potter added, "I suppose since you don't understand plain English, I'll have to show you what I've been trying to say." With that said, Potter took a step towards him. Draco was tempted to take a step back, but he wasn't about to let Potter get the best of him, so he stood his ground as Potter moved closer and closer.

Potter stopped when there was about an inch of space between him and Draco, who was feeling very uncomfortable. **Be strong, **he thought furiously. **Don't let Potter get the best of you. Be strong, be str—what the FUCK!!?**

It really isn't very polite to use that particular word, or think it for that matter, but we will excuse Draco anyway, because the usage of that word, while not polite, is a way to express extreme surprise…and to say that Draco was surprised would be an understatement, because Draco had just been kissed by none other than Harry Potter. It had been quick, no more than a peck, but it effectively rendered Draco speechless, both in voice and thought. He could only gape at Potter, who was smirking down at him, which gave him back his voice, if not his wits.

"You kissed me", he stated, and Potter's smirk grew wider. "Noticed that didn't you?" he replied smugly, but Draco was having a hard time comprehending the words. All he seemed able to do at the moment was stare at Potter and repeat, "You kissed me". Potter rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we established that. Now, do you want to know why I kissed you?"

Yes, Draco wanted to know why Potter had kissed him. However, his vocal cords were still not in proper working order, and all he could do was ask, "You kissed me?" and hope that Potter understood.

It seemed that Potter did, for he grinned and nodded. "I'll take that as a 'yes'', he said, more to himself than Draco. With that he leaned toward the blonde boy, who felt his eyes widen in fear that Potter would kiss him again. Potter chuckled. "Don't worry, Draco, that's not what I had in mind at all," he informed the other boy, then leaned in farther to whisper in his ear, "I kissed you, Draco, because I **like **you." Pulling back, Potter stared into Draco's eyes, searching for a reaction. 

He got one. Draco let out a squeak of terror before turning around and running straight into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him and locking it, Draco sat on the toilet and stared at the door with wide eyes. No way in hell was he ever leaving this bathroom…not while Potter was out there.


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N**: Well, another chapter finished, thank goodness. And before Christmas too! Yay! I have to say that the worst part of this holiday is all the crowds and lines and bitchy ppl…urg. Anyway, here is the next chappie, and I'd like to apologize in advance for the shortness and lack of any Harry/Draco action. I was reading over ch 2 and I felt really bad for poor lil Draco, and this was the result. Don't worry, next ch should be better. I'm thinking about having Draco tease Harry a bit…what do you think? Let me know…and thank you all who reviewed so far. Your guys' reviews are what make me get off me bum (mentally, of course J) and write this thing.

This chapter is dedicated to all those who thought I should find a way to get Draco out of the bathroom and get food into him.

Now, let's get started…

For a few seconds after the door closed behind Draco, Harry simply stayed where he was, pondering the turn that things had taken. In all of his careful plotting, all his scenarios of how this could go, he hadn't imagined Draco would run into the bathroom like a scared rabbit. Granted, it was quite funny, and Lord knows Draco deserved to be thrown off like that, but Harry was still mightily displeased. If he had wanted Draco to run away, he could have used any room, any Plan, and could have asked Ron and eventually Hermione's help. But no, Harry was serious in his intention to inform Draco of his feelings and, for lack of a better term, have his wicked way with him. 

But of course Draco, being the little prick of a Malfoy he always was, ruined Harry's plan in one fell swoop, therefore rendering Harry helpless. Despite what people expected, the Boy-Who-Lived was actually just Pretty Average, and in fact had spent so much mental energy on the first Plan, he was unsure how to begin a second. It was around this time that he started wishing that Hermione was there to help him…but he kept his thoughts away from the word "need", knowing full well that just that one word would send Hermione zooming straight into the room, and she would not be happy when she found out why. No, Harry was once again on his own.

As it always did in times like these, Harry's mind switched to a subject that he was always sure of, no matter what: food. He had missed dinner to put this seemingly foolproof Plan into action, and his stomach wasn't shy about letting him know that it did not approve of this maneuver. 

Harry was rather grateful for his stomach at the moment, for it had handed him a problem that he knew he could solve all by his lonesome. **What I need**, he thought to himself, **is some hot food**. Within seconds, a steaming plate was in front of him, filled with chicken and other tasty things, just asking him to dig in. Harry was more than happy to oblige. He picked up a piece of chicken and raised it to his mouth, all ready to take a bite, when the sound of the bathroom door opening stopped him. He put the chicken back on his plate, and turned slowly to face Draco, who was glaring at him apprehensively. His gaze moved to the plate of food in front of Harry, and hunger filled his eyes.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, apparently forgetting to scowl or sneer in his current state of starvation. Harry grinned. He could use this to his advantage. A brand new, freshly polished Plan started to form in his head, and he went with it. 

"What, this?" he asked, waving a hand at the food. Draco nodded, trying hard not to let his eyes stray to the plate. His eyes had other plans, however, and soon they were glued to the food, unable to look away. "Damn", he cursed softly, and Harry's grin grew even wider. "Would you like some, Draco?" he inquired, knowing full well that yes, Draco did want some, and that he would probably do just about anything to get it. He was proved right when Draco nodded, not taking his eyes from the still steaming plate in front of Harry. Harry's grin faded a little. That would not do at all. He said, "You can have some if you'd like, but you have to do something for me." Draco's eyes flew from the plate and up to Harry's own, suddenly wide and frightened. Harry's grin returned full force. **That's better**.

Draco was stammering. "W-what do you want me to do?" he asked worriedly, and Harry knew by the flash of fear in Draco's silver eyes that the boy was afraid Harry would kiss him again. Harry almost laughed out loud, thought better of it and turned his laughter into a cough instead. Draco's eyes narrowed and his sneer returned. "Whatever you're thinking, Potter, you can just forget it. I would never stoop so low as to do you any favors for the sake of a meal. Frankly, I think doing **anything** for you would destroy my appetite."

This time the laughter just wouldn't be held back, and it burst from Harry's mouth in loud brays, rather like a donkey's. Harry didn't mind. He looked into Draco's bewildered face and laughed all the harder. Finally he got himself under control. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he told a scowling Draco, "Sorry. It's just that those comments would hurt a whole hell of a lot more if you didn't look so scared while you said it."

Draco's reply was indignant. "I was not scared!" he cried, glaring at Harry. "Malfoy's aren't scared of anything. Especially not **you**, Potter."  Harry, still smiling slightly, shook his head and said, "Okay, Draco, you weren't scared," he replied, rolling his eyes. "But just so you know, I'm not going to try anything…though the reaction was amusing, I must admit it's not an incentive for me to try again."

"Big word Potter…surprised you even know what it means", was Draco's reply, but as his eyes were once again glued to the plate, the remark didn't hold as much rancor as it normally would have and therefore was about as hurtful to Harry as his earlier comments had been. As Draco stared at the food, he licked his lips. Harry felt a small thrill of pleasure run through him, and gave his body a small shake. It wouldn't be a good idea to get all hot and bothered when he was so close to having Draco right where he wanted him, for the moment at least.

At Harry's movement, Draco looked up. There was slight desperation in his eyes as he asked, "What do you want?" Harry gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, thinking, **whoa, Malfoy must be really hungry** as he replied, "Nothing big. All I want is for you to come out here and have a civilized conversation with me. No touching whatsoever," he added as Draco looked at him warily, silently cursing the part of him that had come up with this new Plan. "I promise."

Draco looked at Harry uncertainly for a few moments, but eventually his gaze strayed to the food and he replied, "Okay," a split second before practically flying over to Harry. Without so much as a glance at the other boy, Draco began to eat ravenously, and as Harry watched the food rapidly start to disappear, he thought, **we're going to need more food**.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Well I'm back with the fourth chapter. Have fun reading it and thank you for reviewing. 

And on and on it goes…

Draco was ravenous. The food that Potter had somehow gotten a hold of looked delicious, and smelled even better, if possible. When combined with a stomach that hadn't had even a touch of food since the evening before, the plate in front of the crazy boy who had kissed him was irresistible.  That was why he had given in to Potter's stupid demands so quickly, he told himself. It had nothing to do with any curiosity on Draco's part, no desire to see just how far Potter would take this little game. Nope. No way, Jose. Draco was not a candidate for St. Mungo's, thankyouverymuch, so there was no way that he was insane enough to be anything but disgusted about Potter's intentions towards him. Uh-uh.

Vaguely, it came to Draco's mind that he may be protesting just a tad much, but he was too busy eating all Potter's food to care. And eat he did, not caring if Potter got any food at all; in fact, if Potter had so much as tried to take a chicken leg off of the plate, Draco probably would have bitten him. This was **his **food now, bloody Potter had conned him into eating in front of him, and Draco had no intention of sharing. He was so busy with his eating that he didn't see Potter grinning from ear to ear as he watched Draco devour the plate of food that he had originally gotten for himself.

After the contents of the plate were completely consumed (and truth be told, Draco had to restrain himself from licking the plate; it wouldn't do to allow Potter to see him stoop to such antics, but he was still so **hungry**…) something like rational thought had returned to Draco, and upon looking up and catching the tail end of Potter's grin he realized how easily Potter had maneuvered him into a position that he had vowed (while shaking like a leaf in the bathroom, though **he'd **never tell) he would not get into. He started to send Potter a Patented Malfoy Death Glare, but before he could so much as glance up, he smelled it. Food. Draco glanced back at his plate and found himself blinking rather stupidly as he realized that it was once again full. What's more, Potter also had a plate of food. Despite the desire to tear into the new plate of food right away, Draco gazed at Potter for a few moments through narrowed eyes. Potter began to fidget under his gaze, and Draco thought, **he's hiding something.**

The thought in itself could be termed as ridiculous, since obviously Potter was hiding plenty from Draco. Such as how he got the room furnished, how he had made the food appear, and how he had gotten Draco there in the first place. Draco knew that Potter hadn't used a Portkey despite the way being yanked into the room had felt. For one thing, he hadn't been touching anything when he'd been deposited into the room. For another, there was no way that Potter could have spelled a Portkey his self, and nowhere he could have gotten a hold of one. It was a mystery, but to Draco it was a welcome relief from worrying about what exactly Potter might be planning to do with him.

Draco forgot about food for the time being, his mind wholly focused on figuring out how Potter was doing all these things without the use of his wand…for Draco had not seen him pull it out at all yet, and while he could have missed it when Potter got the first plate of food he knew beyond a doubt that he would have noticed the second time, being right next to him and all. Draco's brow furrowed as he concentrated on this mystery, instinctively knowing that if he solved it he would also find out how to leave the room and get as far away from Potter as humanly possible.

As was custom for him when he was deep in thought, Draco began to bite his lip, worrying it with his teeth, occasionally licking his lips if they got too dry. It was a habit; he did it without thinking, much the way one begins to fidget when they are especially nervous. Only Draco didn't usually go into deep thought mode with Potter around, so the sharp intake of breath from the other boy was enough to snap Draco back to himself rather quickly. 

Giving a small blink, Draco gazed up at Potter curiously, noting the shortness of breath and the glazed look in the emerald green eyes, which were at the moment focused on Draco's mouth. Draco tilted his head slightly, thinking, then experimentally licked his lips. Potter's eyes widened just a little bit more, and Draco allowed himself a small smirk of amusement. **This boy is really deprived**, he thought, and on the heels of that, **this could be interesting**.

Deciding to give up his pondering for the time being in favor of torturing Potter with this new weakness, Draco licked his lips again, slowly, starting with the left corner of his mouth and trailing his tongue first over his top lip, then his bottom, making a lazy circle before pulling said tongue back in his mouth.  Potter gave a small gasp, unconsciously licking his own lips in the same pattern Draco had just done. Draco was becoming very entertained. Now that he had food in his stomach, Draco could think, and think fast. Within the space of a few seconds Draco had decided that while teasing Potter would be fun, perhaps there was a way to use Potter's attraction against him. Perhaps if he played on said attraction, Potter would be turned into a lump of so much jelly, consequently so smitten with Draco that he would tell him how to get out of the room and as far away from Potter as possible.

Yet Draco wasn't sure that he had Potter totally under his power just yet. Sure, Potter's eyes were glazed over, and his breathing was quickened, but Draco was a firm believer in completing what he started. So he worried his lower lip a little with his teeth for good measure, purposely biting hard to give his lip that bruised, just-snogged look that he knew made him look especially pouty and sexy (not that he practiced or anything…). 

Potter let out a small whimper, and Draco felt his mouth form a small sneer of disgust that Potter would be so weak as to let his arch-enemy, the person who hated him more than anyone except Voldermort, see him in this state of desire. **That's the problem with Potter**, Draco thought as he entered full-on Superior Mode. **He never stops to think that the things he does can be used against him. That's why he'll fail**.

Of course, we all know that poor Draco's worst fault is his own hypocricy…which is why he never stopped to think that Potter would read the distaste on his face, not did he expect that the other boy would act so quickly on what he saw. So before Draco was really aware of what was happening, he found himself flat on his back with one Harry Potter sitting on top of him. "So, you want to play, Malfoy?" he hissed, and Draco found himself incapable of doing anything except staring into Potter's green eyes and thinking to himself that his Brilliant Plan hadn't gone so well after all.

Potter was not satisfied with this, however, and gave Draco a sharp poke. "I asked you a question", he said, giving the boy below him another poke. Draco gave Potter a bewildered stare and said cleverly, "Huh?"

Potter let out an exasperated sigh and repeated the question from earlier, punctuating each word with a poke for emphasis. All in all, it went something like this: "I"-**poke**-"said"-**poke**-"so"-**poke**-"you"-**poke**-"want"-**poke**-"to"-**poke**-"play"-**poke**-"games"-**poke**-"Malfoy?" complete with an extra hard poke at the end. Draco was pissed. He just knew that there would be a bruise from all that poking, and if there was anything that Draco hated more than running out of gel, it was having any sort of mar on his perfect skin. The very thought of the bruise he would probably have come morning gave Draco the strength he needed to throw Potter off of him, and he wasted no time in doing so. He bucked upward as hard as he could, while using his hands to help him knock Potter to the side, allowing Draco to scramble up and glare into the face of his nemesis. 

"If I bruise Potter, believe me when I say I will make you pay," he hissed down at the other boy, and with a swish of his robes, Draco turned to go back to the sanctuary of his bathroom…only to find that it was no longer there. Eyes wide with disbelief, Draco walked to where the bathroom door had been moments before, but was now a solid wall. Upon reaching the wall Draco ran his hands over it, unable to believe his eyes. Where the hell was the bathroom??

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Potter's voice came from right behind him, and Draco spun around, backing into the wall as he realized that Potter's face was barely three inches away from his own. **Not again**, Draco thought, wondering why he always seemed to end up in situations like this. He tried to sidle past Potter, but the other boy put his hands on either side of Draco, trapping him against the wall. Draco gulped. 

Potter began to lean forward very slowly, licking his lips in anticipation, and despite himself Draco found his eyes riveted to Potter's mouth. **You know**, he thought to himself absently, **Potter's really not so annoying when he isn't talking-wait a minute! What am I saying? Of course he's annoying! He's always annoying! Get a grip on yourself, Draco!**

Yanking himself out of his thoughts, Draco determined a course of action and rushed forward, momentarily confusing Potter and consequently freeing himself. He backed as far away from Potter as possible, eyes wide. Potter made no move to follow Draco, he seemed content to smirk at him from across the room. When Draco was as far from Potter as he could get, he gave him his most quelling glance, saying, "Don't you dare come near me, Potter. I've had enough of whatever game you're playing."

Potter merely raised his eyebrows. "**You're **tired of **my **game?" he replied. "What were you just doing, Draco? Thought you'd seduce me into letting you out of here, hmm?" He rolled his eyes. "Please, Draco, I'm nowhere near that stupid. While I did find your little performance enjoyable, I have no intention of letting you out until I get what I want."

Draco glared. "And what would that be, Potter?" he snarled furiously. "My virginity?" Potter grinned. "Nahh", he returned, "while I must admit that it would be nice to sleep with you, I'd much rather you be a willing participant in it. Rape just doesn't do it for me." He moved to the bed and sat on it. "What I want," he told Draco, "is for you and I to spend the weekend together. Here. Just that and no more."

Draco stared at Potter in disbelief. "That's it?" he asked incredulously. "All I have to do is spend the weekend here with you and you'll let me go…and never bother me again?"

Potter sighed. "Yes", he said tiredly. "I guess I just want to see if there could be anything between us…you know, if we didn't have all the barriers between us that we have now. If we could have been friends or…or maybe more." Potter was blushing now, and Draco refused to think it was becoming. It was too cliché to be ogling his enemy just because he was being all sweet and cute and blushing besides. Nope, Draco would not give in to the power of Potter's suggestion.

To prevent himself from falling into temptation as it were, Draco pondered Potter's idea. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to just give Potter what he wanted. Surely he could handle one weekend without fighting. They could do this, and then go their separate ways, and no one would ever have to know. Usually this type of idea did not sit well with Draco, who loved to exploit whatever weakness he could find in his peers, especially Potter.

But exploiting this weakness of Potter's would also put Draco in the hot seat. Everyone would wonder whether or not Draco had really tried to get away from Potter, and if he had, well, he'd eventually agreed with Potter's crazy plan, hadn't he? No, this time Draco felt it would be better to just forget that this weekend had ever happened, and he informed Potter of the fact.

"If I agree," he told the other boy, "then we forget this ever happened. After this weekend, we go back to the way we always were. I hate you, you hate me, no change. Got it?"

Potter pondered Draco's offer before giving a small sigh of resignation. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else", he said, then stuck out his hand. "Fine. Deal. And you call me Harry."

Draco took the offered hand with a small smile. "Hello, Harry, I'm Draco." He said, wondering in the back of his mind if he had just made a big mistake.


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: Well here it is, ladies and gents, another chapter of The Plan. This chapter is a lil bit longer than the last two…and definitely has more action. I hope you guys enjoy the new installment, and as usual thank you so very much for your reviews…they always put a smile on my face.

Ready…Set…Read… 

Harry shook Draco's hand once before letting go, valiantly resisting the urge to cackle evilly. The evilness would not be denied, however, and Harry had to turn away to hide his smirk. Draco had no clue what he'd gotten himself into.

Little did Draco know it, but most of what had just transpired had been Planned—at least on Harry's part. While watching Draco devour his food at an alarming rate—and truth be told that this sight would have disgusted anyone save Harry, who had seen food eaten much faster and sloppier (he was friends with Ron "the walking garbage disposal" Weasley, after all)—Harry had thought up Plan B, bless him.

So Harry had sat back, content to tuck in to his own plate of food and let Draco eat to his heart's content…Plan B could wait a few more minutes. Of course, Harry hadn't counted on Draco doing the whole lip licking bit, or the slight detour he'd have to take to get to the Plan. Now lip-licking isn't usually a huge distraction for most people, but our dear Harry was one horny little bugger, and he had a rather good imagination. So let's just say that while Draco had been licking his lips, good old Harry had been imagining much more—ahem—**interesting **places that mouth could be, hence the glazed eyes and quickened breathing. Which is not to say that Harry didn't have a pretty good idea what the other boy was doing. Oh, no, Harry was quite aware of what Draco was trying to pull, and he was rather proud of the Slytherin. In all honesty, Harry had been marginally afraid that the kiss he'd given Draco had made the other boy incapable of anything other than squeaking and repeating "You kissed me" over and over in that scared little boy voice, which Harry admitted was Pretty Darn Cute but nowhere near as satisfying as Normal Conversation. All in all, he was glad to see that all that was really wrong with Draco was lack of food, and this gladness, coupled with a fierce relief that he could still use Plan B, had perhaps made Harry a trifle giddy, and therefore slightly careless as to just how far his overly active imagination was taking things.

It was about the time that Harry's mind put Draco's mouth around his nether regions that Harry let out a dazed whimper, which startled the Gryffindor out of his stupor and cleared his glazed eyes just in time to see the sneer of disgust on Draco's face. Suddenly furious, Harry had thrown himself at Draco and had ended up straddling the other boy…which two seconds ago he really would've enjoyed, but Harry had a wicked temper and it wasn't about to let a simple thing like lust get in its way.

Unfortunately for Anger, though, Lust was a bit stronger than usual due to the lack of booty Harry had been getting recently, mainly because he'd been too busy Planning to take care of much else. Therefore, all Anger could manage was a few hisses and pokes to the boy underneath him—and this was all purely in temper, much to Lust disappointment—before said Lust took over completely.

Now Lust was no genius, but hell, it didn't take an Einstein to figure out that there were better things that could be done when you were on top of the person you've been wanting to shag than poke said person, and Lust settled down to do just that. Too bad for Lust that Draco didn't appreciate this particular position, and had thrown Harry off just as it had been decided that fighting was the last thing he wanted to do right now. But our pal Lust was a fighter, and began to stalk his pre—I mean, follow Draco, once the problem of the bathroom had been taken care of. Draco whirled around, anger and wonderful confusion in his eyes, and found himself trapped before he could so much as make a move…and Lust was making his. But once again Lust was nicely thwarted as Draco got away, but instead of chasing him farther, Harry merely smirked as Lust gave up (for the moment) and Reason returned, with just a hint of the old Anger to spice things up.

Then Draco had the nerve to ask Harry what he was playing at, and Humor returned full force, thank Merlin. With Humor came the Return of Plan B, and Harry had quickly and effortlessly moved the conversation to get Draco right where he wanted, namely agreeing to a truce that Harry couldn't care less about, and put himself up for further 'friendly' activities. Draco didn't stand a chance.

So now here they were, Draco looking apprehensive and Harry trying with all his might not to let out an evil "muahaha", lest Draco figure out what he was up to. But it really was so very hard not to, especially when Draco was clearly asking himself if he had just made the worst mistake of his life. Well maybe he would think so later, Harry thought with a twinge of something like sadness, but not this weekend. Oh, no, this weekend was all about pleasure…and fun.

"Something wrong, Po—Harry? Or do you just find the wall fascinating?" Draco's voice broke into Harry's thoughts, and he turned to the other boy with a grin. "Just thinking." He replied. Draco raised an eyebrow. "You Gryffindors do that?" he asked. "Wow. You learn something new every day." Harry rolled his eyes. "Thought you'd agreed to getting along with me?" he inquired dryly, and it was Draco's turn to grin as he shrugged his shoulders. "Force of habit", the Slytherin replied unrepentantly, then looked around the room. "Well Po-Harry, since we are going to be in here together for two days, what do you propose we do?"

Harry couldn't help it; he gave Draco a lascivious smile as an image of just **how **they could amuse themselves entered his head. Draco's eyes widened and he stepped back. "Except that", he said quickly, and Harry laughed. "Why Draco, whatever do you mean?" he asked in his most innocent voice. However, Draco wasn't fooled in the least. "You know very well what I mean, Potter", he replied, rolling his eyes skyward, "but if you insist on playing the idiot, I'll make it perfectly clear what I mean. I mean what can we do that doesn't involve any touching, stripping, or bondage of any sort."

Harry felt a delighted grin light up his face, and he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Why, Draco, I never knew you were an S&M kinda guy…I'll have to keep that in mind…" Harry put on a speculative face and was gratified to see the pink tinge that appeared on Draco's cheeks. **Too cute**, he thought amusedly and felt an insane urge to reach out and pinch that tinge, make it grow even darker. The crazy urge only intensified as Draco spluttered, "You—I—that's not what I meant at all, Potter!" Harry's grin grew. "Oh really?" he asked, switching to a curious expression and trying hard not to laugh as the blush on Draco's cheeks deepened, thinking, **oh, my is this fun**.

It seemed Draco did not agree, as he stopped looking embarrassed and started looking quite pissed, indeed. The grey eyes were suddenly narrowed into slits in a face that had gone pale as milk. "What I meant, **Harry**", Draco hissed, putting so much venom in the name that it was like a physical blow, " was that you should keep your perverted fantasies to yourself, because there's no way in hell that I'll ever participate in them. Do I make myself clear?" 

Harry stared at Draco, stunned. Wow. Who knew it was that easy to piss Malfoy off? Harry sure didn't, and now that he did, he put the information away for later use; and he **would** use it, because the undeniable fact was that when he was totally and completely furious, Draco Malfoy was breathtaking. Harry had never seen too much emotion in that impassive pointy face, but now it was flooded with rage, making his eyes shine silver, and his pale skin translucent. In short, Draco was looking thoroughly shaggable, and it was all Harry could do to keep from pouncing. 

Instead, Harry resorted to his old standby when it came to situations like this; he laughed, causing those gorgeous eyes to dim in confusion. Harry sorely missed that silver light, but laughed all the harder, releasing all the tension that had sprung up in him unbidden at the sight of a passionate Draco. **Ooh, passionate**, Harry thought hysterically, and that set him off all over again. Draco was now looking at him as though he were completely nutters, and Harry thought, **Oh, hell, maybe I am**. That thought sobered him up a bit, though a hiccup or two of laughter still escaped him. Draco glared. "What is so bloody funny, Potter?' he snapped, and Harry shook his head helplessly. "Hell if I know", he replied, and grinned up at Draco. "Maybe I'm just totally gone." Draco didn't return the grin. "Maybe you are", he replied, and turned away. Harry frowned at the Slytherin's back. "You're not really that upset about a little teasing, are you, Draco?" he asked incredulously. "It's not as though I meant anything by it."

Draco's back stiffened. "Oh, and that makes it all better." He snapped without turning around. "Harry Potter, Boy Wonder just apologized, so now its all roses. Hate to break it to you, Potter, but I am not one of your little minions. You can't just insult me one minute and expect me to laugh it off the next. I don't work that way." Here he stopped and muttered something unintelligible, something that sounded a lot to Harry like "pompous asshole".

Stung, Harry glared at Draco's back. "One", he said angrily, "I did not apologize because I have nothing to be sorry for. Two, I don't have minions; I have friends, which is something you obviously know nothing about. Three, it wasn't an insult, it was teasing; there is a difference. And four, I am **not **a pompous anything, you prat." Done ranting and feeling considerably better, he continued in a calmer tone, "Now, you have two choices as I see it. You can stand there and sulk all day over something completely stupid, or you can play a game of good old Non Contact Wizard's Chess with me. It's up to you." With that Harry turned away, thinking about what he would need for a good game of Wizard's Chess (a table complete with two cushy chairs for comfort's sake, along with the game itself, of course). Harry was just about to sit in the chair nearest him when he was grabbed from behind and spun around to meet feral grey eyes. Harry gulped. Draco was less than an inch from, and Harry felt his body start to react accordingly. Panicked, he tried to back away but Draco stopped him. Grabbing Harry's other arm he jerked the boy against himself, eyes widening as he became aware of just how excited Harry was getting. **Oh shite**, Harry thought closing his eyes in mortification and waiting for Draco to push him away disgustedly.

When Draco didn't push him away as Harry had expected, he tentatively opened his eyes to watch as Draco grinned a slow, predatory grin and leaned even farther into him before asking softly, "Do you like this Harry?" Harry's only response was to let out a small moan, as helpless to stop the sound as he was to get away from Draco's iron grip. Draco's smile widened even more, and his eyes darkened as his gaze flickered down to Harry's mouth, which in turn sent the Gryffindor's eyes to the lips right in front of him. Those lips moved closer to Harry's own, and it was all he could do to keep himself from tackling the Slytherin and doing positively wicked things to him. Draco's mouth came closer and closer; and Harry shut his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer, and just as he could feel Draco's breath against his lips the other boy stopped, and abruptly let Harry go, allowing him to crash to the floor.

Harry's eyes flew open in surprise, and he glared up at Draco in a mix of anger, humiliation, and though he would never admit it, hurt. Draco was smirking triumphantly down at him, gleeful about getting the upper hand, and Harry wanted to punch him. Instead he stood up, dusted imaginary dirt off his trousers, and said, "Wizard's Chess, then?" an unspoken challenge in his eyes.

Draco gave him a dumbfounded look before answering the challenge, tilting his chin up and saying, "Very well, then," and moving to sit at the table and set up the game. Harry grinned to himself. Draco could act as unruffled as he wanted, but Harry had seen his reaction to the near kiss, and he knew that Draco was just as affected as he was. Not that this knowledge meant that Harry would forget the humiliation he had just suffered. Oh, no, Malfoy would pay. But Harry had found in his life that revenge worked best when the object of said revenge had let his guard down. Harry would wait…for now.

Two hours later, Draco was grinning gleefully and Harry was frowning. He had just lost the sixth game of Wizard's Chess in a row, and he was none too happy. He'd hoped that all those hours of losing to Ron had strengthened his chess playing abilities, but obviously they hadn't. Harry just had to face the facts. He was never going to be good at this game.

Draco, on the other hand, was as good as Ron, if not better (Harry allowed himself a small smile when he thought of how Ron would react to him saying that). He played mercilessly, and poor Harry, who didn't know just how easy Ron was on him, was annihilated before he really had much of a chance to do anything. Of course, it didn't help that Draco was a bad winner who felt the need to rub Harry's face in the fact that he'd lost not once, not twice, but **six times**, which was not improving Harry's temper in the slightest. Nope, it was time for a new game. Harry stood and stretched, giving a soft groan as his muscles adjusted from sitting so long. Turning to Draco, he noticed the boy watching him and grinned, though he did not seek his revenge. He merely finished stretching and suggested a game of Exploding Snap.

"Snap?' Draco said, looking disgusted. "I hate that game." Harry grinned. "Now why would that be, I wonder?" he said, tilting his head as though he were thinking. "Could it be because you always lose?" Draco tilted his pointed chin higher into the air and replied haughtily, "No. I hate it because it is a game of luck rather than skill. Any idiot can win. Even you, P-Harry." Harry laughed. "Precisely why I like it", he replied, and frowned at the chessboard. Draco caught the frown and smirked. "Why so glum, Potter?" he asked. "Could it be because you never win?" Harry turned to Draco and replied nonchalantly, "It's Harry. And yes, that is why I'm upset. I think I should just give chess up."  He plopped back in his chair and glared at Draco, who was busy urging Harry's pieces back on the board. Harry was pleased to see his pieces putting up a good fight. Seemed they knew when to quit as well. Seeing as Draco apparently didn't know this, Harry felt that he should enlighten him. "Draco?" he asked, and when Draco looked up at him said, "I'm not playing anymore. Being beaten six times is enough for me, thanks."

Draco pouted. "But I still want to play." He said, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. It really was an adorable expression, and Harry was tempted to give into it, but then he looked at the table, or rather, his chess pieces on the table, which were all shaking their heads in an emphatic 'no'. Grinning, Harry turned to Draco and said, "Sorry, no can do. I don't feel like adding another defeat to my long, long list. Besides, I'm tired. What time do you think it is anyway?"

Draco shrugged, then yawned. "Damn you Po-Harry." He mumbled. "Damn you and the power of suggestion." He gave another yawn, then stood, stretching as he did so. Harry took a nice look at him when he did, and had to admire that Quidditch toned body. Yum. He looked away hurriedly, before Draco could catch him staring, and said, "There'll be nightclothes and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you, Draco." Draco whirled around, and sure enough, there was the bathroom. "You know, before we leave here I'm gonna have to find out just how you do that," he informed Harry, before strutting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Amused, Harry got into his own pajamas, which was a simple pair of drawstring pants and a white T-shirt.  With this done, Harry crawled into the huge bed, wondering just how long it would take Draco to get himself ready for bed. From what he knew of the blonde, it would be quite awhile. Harry closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax, and fell into a deep sleep.

He was awoken some time later by a rather annoying voice screeching, "No way, Potter!" Harry opened bleary eyes and looked up at a newly showered, very irate Draco Malfoy. "No what, Draco?" he asked sleepily, wishing that Draco would just shut up already and let him go back to sleep. However, Draco was having none of it. He glared down at Harry and snapped, "There is no way that I am sleeping in the same bed as you, Potter." Harry glared right back, thinking; **he woke me up for this?** "You woke me up to tell me that?" he demanded angrily. "I don't give a flying fuck where you sleep, so long as you don't wake me up for stupid reasons again." Harry turned around, fully prepared to go back to sleep, when Draco demanded, "Give me a bed."  Harry flipped back over and stared at Draco incredulously. Did he really think that he could just be a git to Harry, and then Harry would produce a bed for him? Screw that. Suddenly, Harry knew that the time for his revenge had come. He wouldn't be giving Draco a bed. No way. If the Slytherin wanted a bed, then he could bloody well share Harry's.

Draco, it seemed, was not fond of this idea. He stared at Harry in stunned surprise, before screeching so loudly that Harry was sure the whole castle could hear, "WHAT PART OF I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP IN THE SAME BED AS YOU DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND???" in an instant Harry had clapped a hand over Draco's mouth. "Shut up", he hissed. "Do you really want anyone to find us here?" Draco didn't reply, and Harry asked, "Now, if I take my hand away, will you speak in a normal tone?" Draco glared mutinously, but gave a sullen nod. Harry took his hand from Draco's mouth, and the other boy went into a full-scale rant, complete with pacing and gesturing. 

"Look, Potter, you may have wrung this truce out of me, but there is no way in all seven hells that you will get me into that bed with you. You must think that I'm crazy. Who knows what could happen if I get in there…you've already proven that you have very little control when it comes to me, and while that is flattering in a very disturbing way, I really don't fancy myself getting raped while I sleep, alright? So be a good boy and---" What Draco had intended to finish off his little speech was never said, as he now had a very pissed off Harry Potter's hand around his throat. 

Harry wasn't even going to pretend that he had a short temper, but he had tried to keep it under wraps. Really he did. But when Draco made that rape comment all of Harry's self-control couldn't have kept him from retaliating. Quick as a flash he was out of bed and in front of the Slytherin, hand to his throat and an evil gleam in his eyes. And he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't get some satisfaction from the frightened look in Draco's eyes, either. Harry leaned towards the other boy and whispered, "What did you say?" Draco gulped, but didn't reply, which was perfectly okay, 'cause Harry wasn't finished. "I'm only going to tell you this one more time," he told the frightened blonde, still in that deadly soft whisper. "I. Don't. Do. Rape. Rapists are nothing but disgusting filth that isn't even good enough to lick my shoes, and I would never lower myself to that. Is that clear to you, Malfoy?" Draco nodded with a small shudder, and Harry released him and stepped back. "Good," he said, this time in his normal voice, "I'm glad we understand each other. Now, you have two choices as I see it. You can either sleep on the bed—which is large enough to fit both you and me with no trouble, or you can sleep on the floor. It's your call." With this said, Harry crawled back into the bed and closed his eyes.

After a few moments he heard rustling sounds coming from the floor, and knew that Draco had chosen to sleep there. Giving an inward sigh, Harry turned on his side and tried to sleep, feeling slightly disappointed that Draco didn't believe he wouldn't try anything. Getting to sleep was a problem, though. Harry was now almost fully awake, and he kept wondering why Draco thought that he would try anything against the blonde's will. Hadn't he kept his hands (among other things) to himself since that first kiss? Hadn't he let Draco get away with humiliating him with both his physical attraction and playing Wizard's Chess? Hell, he'd even kept his staring to a minimum so as not to discomfort the blonde? Harry kept going over the day in his mind, but he couldn't come up with any reason that Draco would think such a thing. Needless to say it kept him from sleep. It didn't help that every few seconds or so, Draco would shift and mutter a curse under his breath. After about ten minutes of this Harry said, "Draco, why don't you just get on the bed already? You're obviously uncomfortable down there, and the bed's big enough so that we don't have to touch each other. Trust me, Ron and I do it all the time when I'm at the Burrow."

"Now that's an image I really didn't need in my head", Draco replied dryly, but he climbed up on the bed. Harry refrained from smirking by sheer force of will, forcing himself to say only, "Goodnight Draco."

Draco was obviously very tired, for instead of baiting Harry he simply muttered, "'Night", and fell asleep. But once again Harry was not sleepy, so he just lay in the bed, listening to Draco's breathing and thinking random thoughts…such as just how badly Hermione and Ron had freaked when they hadn't been able to find him after their studying. Harry wasn't really worried. He'd left them a note telling them that he would be busy all weekend but really, he was okay, and not to panic. He doubted they would take that last piece of advice, and it was rather amusing to think of the both of them freaking out over him. Harry smirked and was just about to add dialogue to his amusing little fantasy in which Hermione ran to the library for answers and Ron thought up crazy conspiracy theories, when he was interrupted by a loud snore. Even more amused, Harry looked over at Draco, who was sleeping with his mouth open, snoring, and drooling to boot. **Well, **Harry thought bemusedly, **the great Draco Malfoy really is human. Interesting. ** Still, Harry supposed in all fairness that he should probably get Draco to stop snoring somehow, or at least wake him so that Harry himself could try to get to sleep. 

With this in mind, Harry gave Draco a small nudge, but only succeeded in making the blonde snore even louder. Harry gave a groan of pure frustration and nudged Draco a little harder. Draco muttered something unintelligible before turning towards Harry and wrapping his arms around him, stunning the Gryffindor so much that he just lay there for a few moments. Eventually, though, something like rational thought returned to Harry, and he tried to roll away, only to find Draco's arms tightening around him. "Well, well, well," Harry murmured softly, "I never would have guessed you were a cuddler, Draco." His soft words seemed to rouse the Slytherin, and as he opened sleepy grey eyes Harry braced himself for the explosion. Instead, Draco closed his eyes again and buried his face in Harry's neck, and Harry gave up on trying to get out of the situation. Tomorrow there would be a confrontation, but for right now Harry was quite content to just be held, and to let the sound of Draco's breathing put him to sleep.

A/N 2: Well it has to be said: I think I rather like Violent! Harry. I may just have to keep him around…so whaddya think? Love it? Hate it? Lemme know!


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: Hey there, kiddies. Here I am, back with another chapter, longer this time for your reading pleasure. Go me! I had to finish this chapter, and add a small warning: I am starting school soon, and will be unable to update as often, which really wasn't often at all.come to think of it, school starting may not change how often I update at all! J I just want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this so far, especially all you who keep coming back, and keep the faith that I will update eventually! You guys rock. Anyway, on to the sixth installment of The Plan, in which Draco is angsty, Harry recovers his sense of humor, and the fic gets up and runs away with the author!

**Happy reading.**

The first thing that Draco was aware of as he came into consciousness was that he was warm, which was rare. He did live in the dungeons after all, and even with a fire the dungeons were a chilly place to be. Not that Draco was complaining or anything. The next thing he was aware of was how comfortable he was. Being comfortable in the dungeons was even less likely than being warm, but Draco really didn't want to think about **why** he was so warm and comfy. No, Draco would much prefer to just stop thinking, to snuggle into the arms that held him and drift off to sleep.

And that was how Draco came to his third realization in as many minutes. There were indeed arms around him, and in his half-sleep, he had not a clue as to who they belonged to. This thought shattered the last thoughts of sleep that he had, and he opened cautious grey eyes to stare into the face of one Harry Potter, which was less than an inch from his own.

"Gaaaah!" Draco shrieked, pushing Potter as far away from him as he possibly could, realizing as he did that one of his arms was rather numb and vaguely wondering why. **Bloody Potter must have slept on it** he thought, glaring at said Potter as he blinked quickly, trying to get the bleariness out of his eyes. He glanced up at the fuming Draco questioningly, and said, "Wha' happen?" in a sleep filled voice, which Draco did not find cute **at all**.

Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter exactly what happened, then shut it with a snap. He figured he could do one of two things: he could freak out on Potter about the way he'd been holding Draco, consequently starting yet another argument which may or may not result in a rape comment, which in turn would most certainly wind up with Harry's violent side putting in another appearance; an appearance which would more than likely also cause Draco's dead side to appear. Or, Draco could keep his temper, not mention what he'd woken up to, and live to see the end of the weekend. Tough choice, that.

Tough choice or not, Draco made his quite quickly, and his reply to Potter was simple. "Looks like you fell out of bed, Potter", he lied smoothly. "You really should work on that."

Harry regarded him for a long moment, and Draco began to worry that he hadn't pulled it off; that Potter knew exactly what Draco was doing and was thinking of the best way to call him on it. Or worse, that his comment had activated Harry's recent short temper, and he was struggling with it as surely as Draco had struggled with his own anger not two minutes before. Deciding that holding the stare was the only way to keep his pride would be to keep his eyes locked with Harry, no matter how much the other boy's stare unnerved him, he kept his eyes trained on Harry's impossibly green ones, telling himself that he didn't think those eyes were pretty. He was a Malfoy, after all, and a Slytherin to boot. How would it look if he were bested by a **Gryffindor**? Draco was quite satisfied with this logic, and it did not occur to him that there was no way that anyone would see or hear of what was going on at all the whole weekend. 

With his resolve firmly in place, Draco kept his gaze locked on Harry, who did not seem at all ruffled-which you can imagine pissed Draco off to no end. The staring became more and more intense, and suddenly Draco was more than just a little nervous, he was terrified, and his pride didn't seem like such a wonderful thing after all. Finally, just as Draco was about to give in and break the stare, Harry broke out into a grin. Now, receiving a Genuine Harry Potter Grin was not an uncommon occurrence for most of Hogwarts, as just about every student and most of the Professors had seen the Grin, and therefore knew its effects. Draco however, had only ever seen it directed at someone else, and so did not experience the full volume of Harry's Charm and Charisma. Now, however, the Grin **was** directed at Draco, and if Draco had been a lesser mortal, he might have swooned. As it was he couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open, and he dimly registered the amused delight in Harry's eyes as he noted this. **Merlin**, Draco thought helplessly, **no wonder half the school's in love with Harry, if he smiles at them like that.** He was completely stunned by how **open **Harry's face looked when he smiled like that.how he looked vulnerable and young and yes, Draco admitted to himself, beautiful.

Draco was so entranced by the Grin that he didn't notice Harry was speaking through it. When he did he glared. Malfoys do **not** get distracted by adorable messy haired Gryffindor boys whose smiles have enough wattage to light a room. It's simply not done.

With this in mind, he snapped, "Turn that thing down Potter, I'm not one of your pathetic little groupies." Never mind that he'd almost turned into one for a moment there. When Harry merely cocked his head to the side Draco snapped, "I'm serious Potter, I don't want to see it." A lie, but Harry didn't know that, and that was all that mattered, really.

Harry's smile still did not dim; rather, it brightened even more as he reminded Draco, "You said you'd call me Harry." Draco scowled. He was already addressing the Gryffindor as Harry in his head, he'd be damned if he actually called him that to his face. Rather than state that slightly embarrassing fact, Draco snapped, "I said I'd try, and I must say you're making it difficult, what with your breaking of your own promises and your personality, not to mention your stupid smile so **would you please turn it down, Potter**?"

The smile did more than turn down, it went out completely, and Draco found himself simultaneously wishing he'd never said anything and glad that what he'd said had caused such a reaction. Those two bits of his mind immediately launched into a heated argument, while a third, and much more amused, part of him was quite curious if after this weekend Draco'd be heading for St. Mungo's rather than the Slytherin dorms.

Draco was so busy trying to figure out when he became a schizophrenic that he didn't realize that once again Harry was speaking to him. **Wow, Malfoy, you're really losing your touch**, he mock-berated himself. **Whatever would Daddy think?** Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself, he turned his attention to Harry, ignoring the voices in the back of his head that were still arguing over whether or not he should have stopped Harry from smiling. The argument had gone from rational (as rational as schizophrenic voices can be, anyway), to childish, now mostly of the "Should not", "Should too" variety. No matter what Harry had to say, it had to be better than listening to those voices prattle on. "What did you say?" he asked, and Harry gave Draco an incredulous look. "Do you ever listen?" he asked curiously, and Draco couldn't stop himself from saying, "Not to you." Then he prepared himself for the explosion, so he was rather shocked when Harry merely grinned-not the hundred watt Grin from before, but a regular one-and said, "Gee, and here I thought we'd made some headway." 

With that, Harry moved to the table from the previous night, where a steaming breakfast was laid. Draco blinked in confusion, and Harry laughed. "Looks like you missed it yet again, hey Malfoy?" he asked, and Draco frowned. "Oh, so now it's Malfoy?" he asked mockingly. "Whatever happened to Draco?" Draco was glad that the only thing that showed in his voice was the mockery. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was slightly upset that Harry had called him Malfoy. He rather liked the way that Harry had completely disregarded their old animosity whilst in this room, and truth be told, he didn't want Harry to start using his last name again, though he'd never tell the Gryffindor that.

Harry laughed again. "Well, I guess I figured it's just not fair, me calling you Draco all the time and you calling me Potter. Why should you get to hear your first name when all I get to hear is my last, and not even spoken attractively?" He waved a finger at Draco mockingly and continued, "There are only two people I know who can say my last name with such distaste. You, and Snape. Ever get any spit on you when cursing me to a fiery hell?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation, though he had to admit that there was something about the p in Potter that demanded spitting. He really couldn't help it; it just came naturally, as he assumed it did with Snape. Trying hard to keep from smiling, Draco rolled his eyes, but the look on Harry's face was too much, and Draco burst out laughing. Harry gave him a mock glare, and Draco laughed even harder. "S-sorry Harry," he said through his laughter, "It's just that there's something about your name that.that.just says 'spit me out'!" with this Draco was once again off, and he laughed for a while longer before it tapered off into a string of mad giggles. Harry gave Draco a look that said clearly he thought the giggling boy was quite crazy. Draco returned the look for a moment before walking calmly to the table, sitting down, and starting to eat his breakfast. Harry gave him one more quizzical look before doing the same.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Harry suddenly looked up from his plate and grinned at Draco. "I just realized something," he informed the other boy with a smug expression. "You called me Harry earlier.and without flinching or anything! Careful Draco, you might just be starting to soften." Draco scowled. "Not a chance, Potter", he snapped, "I am a Malfoy, and Malfoys do not **soften**."  He made sure that he put as much disdain into that last word as possible, but it didn't matter, as Potter's grin only grew wider and more knowing. Draco glared as hard as he could, but it had no affect on Harry whatsoever. The staring competition from earlier resumed, and desperately Draco searched in his mind for something to wipe that smile off of Potter's face once and for all. Just as he was about to give up, something came to him, and he allowed a small smile to move across his own face, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow in speculation.

"Speaking of going soft, **Harry**." he started, trailing off and watching in amusement as Harry's other brow rose at the deliberate enunciation of his first name, "Speaking of soft, did you think the floor was soft when you landed on it? I thought it was quite amusing, if nothing else." Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, and Draco's grin grew even wider. "You really should work on staying in bed, you know.sleeping on the floor all the time is a frightfully bad habit to have." Harry glared for a moment, then matched Draco's grin with one of his own. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Snoring is just as awful, if you ask me." He gave Draco a significant look, and the blonde spluttered incredulously. "I do not snore!" he yelled, furious beyond belief. Even though it's redundant to say so, Malfoys do not snore, and Draco took it as a personal insult that Harry would accuse him of something so crass. Seeing how indignant Draco was, Harry's grin grew even more delighted, and he nodded. "And drooling", he added, and Draco's mouth dropped open indignantly. "Okay, Potter, that is quite enough. I may admit that I snore.a little. But that is where I draw the line. Read my lips, Potter: I. Do. Not. Drool. Got that? Good."

Harry just grinned at him, and Draco decided that he had never thought Potter looked good at all, and really, it was quite easy to think of him as Potter after all, and now he was laughing, and Draco decided that he really didn't care about his life so very much after all.what he cared about was wiping that smug smile off of Potter's face, which is probably why he snapped, "Snoring and drooling put aside, Potter, I'm not the one who has a fetish for snuggling my unwilling worst enemy after I'd promised not to do so." Draco was rather gratified to see the smug smile drop off of Harry's face, and he gaped openly at Draco, who felt that it was his turn to smile smugly, so he did. Now it was Harry's turn to splutter as he tried to figure out what Draco was talking about, and Draco sat back in his chair, waiting to bask in Harry's confusion.

So you can imagine his disappointment when Harry collected himself rather quickly, leaning back in his seat and mimicking Draco's smug smile. "What about it?' he asked calmly, and it was Draco's turn to lose the smug smile as Harry once again gained the upper hand. Draco was so absorbed with how quickly Harry had regained his cool to digest what he'd said, but once he did, he was pissed. "'So?'" he screeched, standing up and glaring down at Harry as his voice picked up in volume and he graduated to full on ranting, complete with pacing and violent gestures. "That is so like you, Potter. You think that just because you're the fucking Boy Who Lived you can do whatever you please and that no one will call you on it? That you can run around and break rules and not get into trouble. Well you know what Potter? You can't do that to me. You can't just go and break a promise and then expect me to-"

By now, Harry was quite sick of Draco's tirade, and had jumped up. Getting right in Draco's face he yelled, "Malfoy, shut up!" Completely astonished, Draco shut up and stared at Harry, who looked positively furious. Draco was reminded forcefully of the day before, and he gulped, praying that Harry wasn't about to go all crazy on him again. Harry wasn't. Instead, he grabbed the front of Draco's nightshirt, yanked Draco's face right up to meet his own and whispered, "You know, Malfoy, you really shouldn't go around blindly accusing people of this kind of stuff; it may just backfire on you."

Draco stared at Harry incredulously, forgetting that a close Harry wasn't a good Harry with the wave of righteous anger that swept through him. "Blindly accusing you?" he demanded. "I hardly call waking up with you wrapped around me blindly accusing you!" At this Harry nodded, as though he'd been expecting Draco to say something of the sort. "Fell out of bed, hmm?" he asked, and Draco felt his face heat up. "I was shocked," he said defensively, then remembered why he'd thrown Harry out of the bed and rounded on Harry again. "Don't try to make me feel bad about this Potter." He spat. "I was only reacting to you breaking your promise about not touching me. Getting shoved out of bed was your fault, not mine. If you had just kept your promise and stayed away from me, it wouldn't have happened." Draco jerked his shirt out of Harry's grasp and moved to a relatively safe spot across the room, glaring at Harry from there.

Harry was glaring right back. "First off", he said, "I never actually promised not to touch you. I said that the bed was big enough so that it didn't have to happen. Second, I wasn't the one who initiated the contact; that was you. I was perfectly fine sleeping on my side of the bed, when you start cuddling me like I'm your favorite teddy bear. Looks like you're the one with issues here Draco, not me. At the very least I can admit when I want something; I don't pretend to hate the very idea of being with someone and start cuddling that same person in my sleep. That's your issue."

Draco stared at Harry. His issue? Hardly. Draco didn't care what Harry said, there was no way on earth he had cuddled up to Harry, not even in his sleep. He may have thought the boy was attractive once or twice; he may occasionally find himself mesmerized by the color of Harry's eyes. Hell, he may even think that Harry was beautiful when he smiled, but there was no way, absolutely no way, that he would ever **cuddle** Harry. Ever. As you have probably guessed, Malfoys do not cuddle either, and Draco was as Malfoy as they come. Wasn't he?

Oh, he hated Potter. He hated him so much for making Draco question everything about himself. What he was, what he thought, and most importantly, what he felt. Potter was screwing with his head, and Draco hated him. **Hated him.**

Glaring at Potter with all he had, Draco allowed all his confusion and hate to pour through him in a torrent of words, desperate to make it all just stop, desperate to make Potter hate him again, desperate to understand.

"How dare you Potter. How dare you make me feel--how dare you do this to me, bring me here and expect me to just what? Be your best friend? Fall for you? Well I've got news for you: it'll never happen. Never. Do you hear me? Let me tell you something, Potter: I'm not gay, and if I **were**, I **still** wouldn't want you. Do you understand? I hate you, Potter. I **hate** you."

While Draco was letting out all this angst, Harry had stood still, stone-faced, not saying anything.not even moving. When Draco stopped, flushed and out of breath, Harry advanced, and intent look on his face. Noticing this, Draco's eyes widened, and he started backing away, growing steadily more uneasy about the expression Harry wore. Things continued like that for a few moments; every step Harry took forward, Draco took one back, not paying attention to where he was going until he felt his back touch the wall. **Oh shit,** Draco thought helplessly, knowing he'd backed himself into a corner. **Shit, shit, shit.** Harry was right in front of him, hands on the wall on either side of his head, making sure that Draco could not escape. Nervous and more than a little frightened of the determined look on Harry's face, Draco began talking. 

"Look, Potter, don't take what I said too hard.I'm just trying to help you out. I mean.you should really pursue someone who wants to be in a relationship with you, you know what I mean? I'm sure there are plenty of guys here at Hogwarts who would love to shag you. I'm just not one of them, that's all." Harry moved a little bit closer, and Draco felt short of breath suddenly as his personal space was invaded. Leaning down to whisper in Draco's ear, Harry said, "So, you don't want me, huh? Bet I can prove you wrong." Draco gave Harry the most defiant glare he could muster at the moment-which, admittedly, wasn't much, considering he was feeling a bit lightheaded at the moment, though he couldn't imagine why-and snapped back, "No way, Potter."

Harry smirked. "Don't think so?" he murmured softly, breath just ghosting over Draco's ear, and Draco had to repress a shiver. He really didn't like where this was going.not at all. He was tempted to just tell Harry that he occasionally found him attractive, just to get the other boy to back off, but once again the Malfoy pride won out and he said instead, "Of course not. You just can't accept defeat, can you? Can't just admit you're wrong? Well, this time you're going to have do, get it?" Draco started to say more, but Harry moved even closer, and pressed his body up against Draco's, letting the other boy feel every inch of him from legs to torso. Draco couldn't help it; he let out a small gasp, and arched slightly into Harry, gasping again at the intimate contact when their hips bumped. Harry grinned triumphantly, but instead of backing away, he ground his hips slowly into Draco's, causing Draco to let out a helpless little moan, as unable to stop it as he had been to stop the gasps from earlier. Harry's grin grew wider, but he didn't stop the motion; if anything he pressed even closer and ground his hips just a little harder, and this time both boys let out small moans at the friction, Draco opening his legs a little wider for comfort's sake and allowing Harry to slip between them.

Harry, taking this as permission, began moving against Draco even more urgently than before, and now Draco began moving with Harry, letting out little moans that turned into whimpers each time their hips met. The friction became more and more pleasurable until finally Draco couldn't take anymore, and he let his head fall back, clutching Harry's shoulders he forgot about Malfoy pride, forgot about everything as he begged, "Please." 

Harry leaned against him again, not trying to elicit a response this time but getting one anyway as once again the boy's hips knocked together. Draco groaned, deep in his throat, and said again, "**Please**." Harry's answer was a small laugh, and then the whisper of air as Harry breathed a question into his ear. "So, Draco, want to tell me again how you don't want me?"

It was like a slap in the face. Suddenly, Draco was aware of what he was doing, and more importantly, who he was doing it with. Disgusted with Harry for pulling this stunt on him, and even more disgusted with himself for giving in so readily, Draco began struggling against Harry, the hands that had been holding his shoulders moments before now balled into fists that were trying desperately to damage Harry's face. For his part, Harry was dodging the blows pretty well; Draco would have admired his technique if he weren't so pissed. Harry let out a curse and Draco a triumphant yell as one of his fists smashed into the darker boy's face; a yell that turned into a cry of outrage as Harry, still cursing, stopped using his hands to trap the other boy against the wall and instead held him in place with his body, leaving his hands free to grab Draco's flailing fists. Draco was panting, and, he realized with some amazement, yelling his head off, letting out everything that had ever bothered him about the boy. 

"God, Potter, you just cant take no for an answer could you? Oh, no, you just have to keep right on pushing, because if you want something, then everyone better just bow down and give it to you, probably on a silver platter. Well, guess what? This is one thing that you can't have, get it? This isn't a game, Potter; fucking around with my head is not a game. Why can you just admit defeat already? I am so bloody **sick** of you walking around Hogwarts, thinking you own it just because of some stupid accident that you couldn't even control. And do you know what the absolute worst thing is? That everyone else acts like you do, too."  Putting on a high falsetto, Draco continued, pouring all his anger and hurt and jealousy into what he was saying. "Oh, look, it's Harry Potter, Boy With the Giant, Ugly Scar on his forehead! Let's worship him just because when he was a baby, Voldemort underestimated his parents! Can I have your autograph, o' wonderful savior of all we love? Saint Potter the Good, the Great, the Wonderful, the Mi-" Draco was abruptly cut off as a hand placed itself over his mouth, none too gently I might add, though in all fairness I should also point out that Harry had listened to quite a lot of Draco's furious ramblings that day, and by the looks if things, his self-control was fraying.

Just how much control it was taking for Harry to keep himself from possibly chopping Draco into little pieces and feeding him to one of Hagrid's beasts was evident in the dark haired boy's voice as he hissed, "You know what, Malfoy? You talk too much." And then the hand was gone, and Draco was going to tell Potter just what he thought of that little statement, oh yes, had opened his mouth to do so in fact, but then words really didn't seem to matter anymore as the other boy replaced his hand with his lips.and really, telling Harry what a stupid little ponce he wasn't so important after all, was it? No, not important at all really, Draco decided as Harry deepened the kiss; what was important was that Harry Potter was kissing the life out of Draco Malfoy, and that Draco was enjoying it immensely.

With this in mind, Draco began to kiss Harry back... tentatively at first, and then with more assurance. Harry let go of Draco's wrists and wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist instead, leaving Draco free to push Harry away, if he so chose. Draco thought vaguely that he should, so he raised his hands to do just that, but then Harry's mouth left his to trail kisses down his throat, and any thought that might have been in Draco's head abruptly vanished as he clutched Harry's shoulders, trying desperately to pull Harry closer. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, giving silent permission for Harry to do whatever he pleased with him. Harry grinned, and swirled his tongue in the hollow of Draco's throat. Draco let out a gasp, which quickly graduated into a full-scale moan as Harry grabbed his hips and ground against him once again. In that moment, Draco knew without a doubt that if Harry asked, Draco really would allow him to do whatever he pleased.

The thought scared the hell out of Draco, and all at once he felt suffocated. He began pushing frantically at the other boy's shoulders, almost sobbing with the sudden need to be as far away from Harry Potter as he possibly could. For a moment Harry's arms tightened around Draco's waist, and Draco had a moment of panic when he thought that Harry wasn't going to let go of him, that he was simply going to keep going and Draco would eventually give in, he knew that, and he really didn't want this, he wasn't ready, he didn't want to face what sleeping with Harry Potter would mean, he just couldn't---

Draco's thoughts abruptly cut off as Harry backed away, taking a good six paces before looking at Draco, face flushed and panting. Draco knew that his face was just as flushed and his breathing just as heavy as the other boys, and he was sure that the expression on his face was just as confused as the one Harry wore. Now that the other boy was no longer as close to him Draco was wondering what the hell he had been thinking. Why hadn't he pushed Harry away, why had he instead pulled him closer? And why oh why was a part of him wishing even now that he hadn't stopped Harry at all? 

Harry was looking adorably ruffled, unfocused, eyes half glazed and visibly shaking. He blinked at Draco, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, obviously unsure what to say. Draco imagined the other boy was still unsure what had even happened to have him across the room, and despite his own turmoil he felt a small pang of sympathy for him. "You okay?" he questioned softly, and Harry seemed to shake himself out of it, looking at Draco and nodding, a half smile on his face. "Yeah", he answered, voice husky, "just a little disoriented is all." He gave Draco a curious look. "What happened?" he questioned softly. "I mean, one minute you were.and then all of a sudden.headache?" He grinned and Draco rolled his eyes. Harry gave a small laugh, and then his expression turned serious. "Draco, I didn't.I mean, did I.Oh, hell." He ran a distracted hand through his hair, mussing it worse than usual and looking for all the world like a lost little boy, and Draco abruptly gave up trying to tell himself that he didn't find Harry Potter attractive. "What I'm trying to say is.well.did I force you? Is that why you freaked out?"

For a minute, Draco was tempted to say yes, just to keep himself from embarrassment, but the way that Harry was looking at him shocked him. The other boy looked almost desperate, and Draco remembered the way he'd reacted to the insinuation of rape. Draco knew that if he told Harry that he'd been forced into what had happened, it would hurt the boy immensely, and not quite to his surprise Draco found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he gave Harry his most reassuring look and said softly, "No, you didn't." Harry gave a small smile in return; a smile that quickly faded as Draco continued, "But it was a fluke, really. I mean, I'm not gay and-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Malfoy!" Harry cried and exasperatedly. "Give me a break, Draco. Are you still gonna pretend that you feel nothing? That you weren't enjoying what I was doing to you? What is it with you, huh? One minute you're moaning and begging-"

"I was not!" Draco denied hotly, lying through his teeth but unable to help himself. Harry raised an eyebrow, and continued. "-and the next, you're over on the other side of the room, telling me that what happened was a fluke, that you aren't standing six feet from me wanting to continue when anyone with eyes can see the truth." His eyes skimmed over Draco's groin, and Draco's own eyes followed, mortified to realize that his current state of discomfort was **very** visible.

Blushing hotly, Draco turned from Harry's gaze, wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow him. It didn't, and as a last ditch attempt to salvage some pride, he snapped, "It means nothing, Potter. Enough friction'll do that to any guy, regardless of where the friction comes from." Smirking, Harry walked past Draco to the bathroom. When he reached the door, he turned back and said, "Well, I don't know about you, but all that **friction** put me in the mood for a very cold shower. Talk to ya later." Giving Draco a saucy grin, he shut the door behind him, leaving Draco alone.

Giving a small sigh of relief, Draco moved to one of the cushy chairs and sank into it, trying to ignore his discomfort and **not** think about what Harry might or might not be getting up to in the shower. He was just starting to relax when the shower door banged open. Startled, he looked up to see Harry Potter, chest bare and smirking in a way that Draco knew meant trouble. "Oh, and Draco?" he asked, and when Draco merely looked at him, smirked all the harder. "Maybe you should do something about that", he said, inclining his head toward Draco's pants and winking. With that said, he turned and walked back into the bathroom, leaving Draco, who felt himself inclined to follow Harry's advice.

No point in suffering any more than he had to, really.

~****~

When Harry got out of the shower, Draco was considerably more relaxed, lounging on the chair and reading. He looked up when Harry entered, noted the glance at the book, and smiled. Holding it up he said, "I found it in your robes. You don't mind, do you?" Harry returned the grin, and shook his wet head. "Nope", he answered, "S'okay, I don't care. Help yourself." Still grinning, he moved to sit in the other cushy chair and began toweling his 'hair. "So, whaddya think of it?" he asked, and Draco shrugged. "It's alright," he answered. "A bit boring, actually. I don't get why the author keeps explaining what he means. I mean, I think I could figure that out myself."

Now it was Harry's turn to shrug as he answered, "It's Lemony Snicket. Besides, I gather that it's supposed to be a children's book." Draco raised his eyebrows at this, and Harry gave him a sheepish grin. "'Mione's always bothering me and Ron about reading more," he explained, "I find these books funny, and they get 'Mione off my back."  Draco's eyebrows, which had gone down at the first part of the explanation, immediately shot up again, and he asked, "Funny?" Harry laughed. "Yeah", he answered, and resumed drying his hair. Seeing that Harry was not going to elaborate, Draco went back to the book, but quickly put it down again. "I'm bored", he announced, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "And?" he asked, and Draco pouted. "Entertain me," he demanded, and Harry rolled his eyes. "No"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Draco, I'm not going to get into a pointless argument with you. No"

Draco pouted some more. "Why not?" he asked, and Harry sighed. "Fine. Draco, what would you like to do?" he asked patiently. Draco frowned. "I dunno. You pick." Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Draco." he said warningly, and Draco repressed the urge to giggle. This could be fun. "What?" he asked plaintively, and Harry scowled at him. "You're acting like a three year old," he informed the blonde, and Draco put on his best indignant look, trying to hide his amusement. "Am not", he said petulantly, by now pouting so hard that his face was starting to hurt. Harry gave him a skeptical look, and Draco whined, "C'mon Harry, I'm bored", dragging out both the 'a' in 'Harry' and 'o' in 'bored', aiming to be as annoying as possible. It seemed to be working, for Harry looked about ready to smack Draco. Then, in an abrupt attitude change Harry rolled his eyes again, then picked up the book that Draco had put down, opened it, and began reading as if nothing was bothering him. 

Draco frowned. **Stupid book**, he thought, glaring at the offending item in Harry's hands. **He should be paying attention to me.** Not bothering to analyze this thought, which admittedly would have sent him into a panic if he did, Draco acted on it, grabbing the book out of Harry's hands and putting it behind his back. Harry glared at Draco. "Give," he demanded, holding out his hand. Draco shook his head, laughing. "No", he said, backing away. Harry stood and began advancing on Draco, a grin forming on his face. "Give", he repeated, and Draco shook his head, all but choking on the laughter. Harry kept advancing, and suddenly his face lit up with an idea. "Give," he demanded, "or I'll kiss you."

Draco stopped and stared at Harry, millions of thoughts running through his head. First and foremost was the thought that Malfoys did not sit back while other boys made advances, and even if they did, they certainly didn't encourage them. Then he wondered whether or not Harry was actually serious. Lastly, he wondered what he thought about that. The first thought was rather easy to contend with, for Draco really didn't care what **Malfoys **did or didn't do.rather, what he was more concerned with was himself. The second was just as easy. Of course Harry meant it; all one would have to do to know that would be to look at his face. The real question was: what did Draco want?

Draco wasn't given time to think about it, as Harry used the lighter boy's confusion to his advantage. Quick as lightning, he dashed to where Draco was standing, reached around the other boy, and grabbed the book out of his hands. Startled, Draco blinked up at Harry, making a belated grab for the book, but the other boy moved out of reach, laughing all the while. When Draco made no move to follow him, Harry went back to his chair and resumed his reading nonchalantly. Draco scowled at Harry, then deliberately turned his back on the Gryffindor and stalked over to the bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling. He really was bored. Bored, bored, bored.and the whole reason he was bored was sitting across the room from him, reading a book as though he hadn't a care in the world. Stupid Gryffindor, making half thought out Plans that resulted in the object of said Plans being Bored Beyond Belief. Annoyed, Draco glanced at Harry again, who was still reading complacently, and sighed theatrically. Nothing. No reaction whatsoever; no roll of the eyes or exasperated look. Harry just kept reading.

Getting off of the bed, Draco once again sat in the chair opposite Harry, and staring fixedly at the other boy, sighed again. Still Harry's eyes followed the print in his book, though Draco was sure he saw the other boy's mouth twitch. Encouraged, Draco sighed again, longer this time, and finally Harry looked up, smiling a small lopsided smile. "Yes, Draco", he enquired, raising an eyebrow and smiling fully at Draco's petulant expression.

"You know, you suck at Planning, Potter," he huffed, crossing his arms and looking very Put Out. "What were you planning on doing all freaking weekend with me at your disposal? Because if you're idea of seduction or whatever is totally ignoring whoever you're trying to seduce, you are never going to get any, savvy?"

Harry sat back in his chair and grinned. "To be honest, it's rather easy for me to get laid, Draco. I'm the Boy Who Lived, remember. The opportunities are just lining up with baited breath, so to speak."

Draco gave the other boy an incredulous look. "And they say that **I'm **full of myself." He said, rolling his eyes. "How can you have such a large fan club here at Hogwarts while being this vain is a complete mystery, Potter." Harry laughed.

"What can I say? I'm gifted", he replied glibly, then sobered slightly. "In all honesty, it's not vanity, it's fact. All I have to do around here to get a good shag is ask, and there is always someone willing. You know, you've presented the first real challenge I've had at getting laid. You should be proud of yourself."

Draco resisted the urge to scowl, and instead of snapping at the darker boy-which he really, really wanted to do-he kept his voice free of anything from mild amusement when he replied, "Ahh, so that's why I'm here, is it? To provide a challenge?" He was pretty pissed about this suddenly; and more than a little hurt, though he would never in admit it. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing to be upset about, really; he didn't want Harry to **love **him or anything.did he? **Gods, no**, Draco thought, horrified. No way did he want Harry pulling out the hearts and flowers and poetry junk, thanks.but that didn't stop the slight queasiness in his stomach when he thought of being Harry's latest conquest, challenge or no.

Harry gave Draco a strange sort of smile before replying, "Yes.and no. I mean, it's refreshing that you don't just fall at my feet because I'm the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World.not that I'm complaining about those, either", he added with a grin. "But it's not just that. Part of it's just you. You're smarmy and vain and a real pain in my ass, but Merlin help me, I like it. Understand?" He asked, giving Draco another strange smile as he waited for the other boy to answer. 

Draco thought about it. It made a strange sort of sense; actually, that Harry would like him. Slowly, he nodded, and the odd smile on Harry's face-which unsettled Draco for some reason or other, he really couldn't be bothered to figure it out-disappeared, to be replaced by Harry's tried and true Grin, which funnily enough, didn't bother Draco as much as it had before.

"Your turn", Harry said, and Draco blinked. "My turn?" he asked rather stupidly. "My turn for what?" Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Your turn to tell me a little about yourself. I don't know anything about you, really, and I'm curious." Draco pondered this statement a bit, weighing it, then shrugged. It really didn't matter what he told Harry in this room after all, because it would never be mentioned again upon leaving. Draco's stomach gave a funny little lurch at this, and Draco frowned. Perhaps he was hungry. What time was it anyway?

"I don't mind answering a question or two about myself, if you really are interested. But first, what time is it? I'm starving." Harry shrugged. "Don't know", he answered, "but I'm kinda hungry, too." He concentrated for a moment, and suddenly there was a plate of food in front of each boy. Draco stared at the plates incredulously. "How do you keep doing that, Potter?" he demanded, and Harry grinned. "I'll tell you tomorrow", he promised, then proceeded to tuck into his food with relish.

Draco, for his part, found himself to be quite hungry, and ate his own food rather quickly, though he realized early on that he would not be able to finish the full plate. When he was finished, he glanced at Harry, who was already done and looking at Draco in amusement. "What?" Draco asked, and Harry pointed at his plate. "Is that all you're going to eat?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the amount of food still in front of Draco. Draco felt his face heating up, and sent Harry a glare. "Just because I don't stuff myself at every meal doesn't mean I don't eat my fill, Potter", he retorted, sending a pointed glance at Harry's plate, which had been all but licked clean. Harry grinned unrepentantly. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy", he replied, patting his stomach. After a brief moment of concentration, the plates disappeared off of the table, and Harry leaned forward eagerly, propping his chin in his hands.

"Time for my question", he announced. "And it is: what exactly is your relationship with your father?" 

Draco, who had been expecting something more along the lines of 'Are you planning on becoming a Death Eater?', simply stared at Harry blankly for a few moments, but once his brain had caught up with the question, gave Harry a surprised look. "That's it?" he asked. "That's your big question?" Harry nodded, curiosity on every feature, and said, "Well, yeah. I mean, we figure that there's something behind your nastiness, and we thought maybe your father.I mean, that he.hurt you or something."

"'We'?" Draco asked curiously. "Who's 'we'?" Harry shrugged. "Me, Ron, 'Mione, Ginny.most of the Gryffindors, actually." Draco's mouth dropped open in unfeigned shock. "You mean to tell me that you guys talk about me? **Analyze** me?" he asked, the complete incredulousness of the situation washing over him. Harry nodded, adding defensively, "We just wanted to figure out why you're such a git, is all." Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Potter, Potter, Potter," he said, shaking his head and trying to control his laughter, "if I'm a git, it's my own fault, not my father's. He's never laid a hand on me.he barely even notices me as long as I'm living up to the Malfoy name.which basically means being first in every class and generally mucking up your school life. Even if I mess up then, he yells at me and it's over, no more discussion." Harry, looking a bit disappointed, muttered, "Oh", and then Draco could hold in his laughter no more. "Oh, honestly Potter, what did you guys think? That he beat me for every little trespass? That I'm scarred emotionally and physically, and that's why I'm such a bastard?" At Harry's sullen nod, Draco began to laugh even harder. To think that they thought Lucius Malfoy, the same Lucius whose favorite words were "Yes, Master", and "Yes, dear", actually hit his son.was too much. **Oh, father, **he thought, **you really have got them fooled.**

When the laughter finally died down, Draco glanced at Harry, who had his arms crossed and was looking pretty triumphant for a boy who'd just had his illusions of Draco's tortured life smashed into bits. "Yes?" he asked, and Harry, still with that same triumphant expression, said, "But if he ignores you, that's abuse as well. Surely that bothers you?' Draco rolled his eyes. "It used to", he admitted, then grinned. "That was, until I realized just how much I could get away with if he didn't notice me. After fifth year I stopped caring whether or not either of my parents paid attention to me, so long as they bought me whatever I wanted." At Harry's incredulous look, Draco's grin grew wider, and he asked, "What? It's the truth. I'm the perfect little son, and in return they buy me whatever my heart desires. But if either of us stopped our end of the bargain, the other would as well. It's just the way it is."

Harry was shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I'll ever understand that", he said simply. "I always wanted my family to pay attention to me.would have killed for some relatives who actually cared about me.and here you sit, not caring. I don't get it." Draco gave Harry another grin and replied easily, "Don't try. Not all families work the same, Potter, trust me on that." Harry was still shaking his head, but he didn't say anything else, and now Draco leaned forward, and said, "My turn. So, do you really buy it all? The whole Light versus Dark bit?" 

Harry stared at Draco like he had three heads. "Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "Don't you?" Draco shrugged. "Not really", he answered, and Harry gaped. "What?" Draco demanded. "You didn't really believe that I gave a rat's arse about this whole thing, did you?" Harry mumbled something under his breath, and Draco asked, "Pardon? I didn't catch that." Harry gave Draco a funny look and replied, "I said that I thought you were going to join Voldemort." Draco sighed. "Yeah, and that theory is just about as good as the one about my dad. You see why I think that Gryffindors are below me?" At Harry's glare, Draco grinned and continued, "I don't really care for either side, actually. I think it's all bullocks. Who really cares what happens to Muggles and Mudbloods? The whole argument is just worthless." Harry spluttered. "It is not worthless!" he cried. "People could **die**. Don't you care about that?" Draco shrugged. "No, not particularly, as long as I don't die." At Harry's shocked look he exclaimed, "Oh, come on, Potter, what do you think I am, a saint? I just explained to you that I really don't care about anyone but myself. Why is that so hard for you to grasp?"

Harry just shook his head, then appeared to give up, saying only, "What will happen to you when the wizarding world is in a full-scale war? What will you **do**?" Draco laughed. "Not sure", he replied. "Maybe at the last minute I'll decide to join up with one side or the other. Maybe I'll pop some popcorn and watch from the sidelines.  Maybe I'll get myself a job in Muggle London as a plumber named Bob. We'll see when it happens." Harry gave him an exasperated look, then dropped the subject altogether. "My turn. Why do you hate me?"

Draco groaned inwardly. There it was; the only question he hadn't wanted asked. Trust Harry to ask it. Now Draco had to come up with a suitable answer. Truth be told, he didn't hate Harry, not anymore, and that was the problem. Hating Harry Potter was something he did without thinking, without analyzing, and now that it was gone, Draco finally realized what it really had been: jealousy. Now though, Draco really had no clue how he felt about the green-eyed boy sitting in front of him; but whatever it was, it definitely wasn't hate. Not that Draco was going to tell Harry that.

Instead, he looked Harry in the eye and said, "I hate you Potter, because you're so damn **good** at everything. You have the whole school falling at your feet, and it was over something you couldn't control. You don't work for anything. You made the Quidditch team in your first year, over an incident that should have gotten you expelled. You completely ignore the rules and do whatever you please, and instead of getting punished, you're rewarded time and again. Even when Slytherin deserves something, like the House Cup, you go and take it from us. In fourth year you got to compete in the TriWizard Tournament, even though you were under the age limit. You strut around the castle acting as if you own it, and no one tells you otherwise. All you have to do is stand there, and everyone acts like it's front-page news. And the worst thing of all is-" Draco abruptly cut off, not wanting to say the last part, but Harry, who looked a little lost, caught it and said, "Finish."

"I'd rather not, thanks", Draco said, feeling bad about hurting Harry, but not bad enough to continue. Harry sent him a glare, and through gritted teeth said, "Finish." Wincing slightly at the hurt he detected below the anger, Draco did-only because he knew that Harry would get it out of him one way or the other, not because he felt **guilty** about lying or anything. Malfoy's don't **do** guilt.

"The worst thing is that despite all that, it's still really hard to hate you, because you're nice and smiley and easy to talk to. It's hard, but I managed, and I wont let you take that away from me, I **wont**." Realizing that he'd said more than he'd intended to, Draco clammed up, but Harry was already giving him that speculative look that he loathed. Draco turned away from it, willing himself not to blush, willing his face to stay impassive. After a long time Harry said softly, "Your turn." Draco sighed. "I don't want a turn", he said, just as softly, "I just want to forget that this conversation ever happened." He felt drained, like he'd just emptied himself out. Perhaps he had, Draco thought, remembering all the anger and jealousy and bitterness that he'd poured out at Harry the whole day. Tired, Draco went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection for a long time before leaving what he knew was a small sanctuary away from the boy who was making him question so many things, the boy who had screwed up so much in just two days.

After leaving the bathroom, Draco went to the bed, lay down, and closed his eyes. Harry didn't say anything, and for that he was immensely grateful. All he wanted to do was lie there and pretend that the other boy wasn't in the room, that he was back in the dungeons where he belonged, where his world made sense and he hated Harry, just as he was supposed to. Draco let his mind drift, not focusing on any one image or thought for fear that it would shatter the false peace he had at the moment, and the seconds faded to minutes, and the minutes melted to hours, and two boys took the time to pretend that things were as they always had been.

~****~

Some time later Draco, who hadn't slept at all, heard Harry go into the bathroom. The toilet flushed, the water was run for a long time, then the bathroom door reopened, and footsteps padded over to the bed. Draco kept his eyes closed as Harry got into the bed, keeping his breathing deep and even. Harry slid between the covers with a small sigh, and Draco, his whole body suddenly alert, felt eyes on him for quite awhile before Harry's breathing became deep and regular, signaling sleep. It was only then that Draco allowed himself to relax, but still he waited a few minutes more before sliding across the bed and wrapping his arms around the other boy, his own small sigh of contentment breathed out before he promptly fell asleep. And Harry opened his eyes and smiled down at the top of Draco's head, wrapping his own arms around the blonde and drifting to sleep as well.


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Lookie lookie, and update! Be happy. I would bore you with an extremely long author's note here, but I have this wicked migraine and so I highly doubt that anything I could say right now would make much sense. Sad, really. Anyway, here it is, ch 7. Read, people, read!**

Harry came into consciousness with a rapidity that was almost frightening. One minute he was sleeping peacefully, the next he was wide awake, and contemplating the boy next to him. Draco really was beautiful, Harry decided as the other boy slept on, unaware of the emerald gaze upon him. Beautiful, but cruel. Sighing slightly, Harry disentangled himself from the blonde's grasp, careful not to wake him. He had some thinking to do. He looked around the room for the best moping spot, and with a small grin decided on the one place most of the actual thinking really seemed to take place: the bathroom. 

Harry went into the bathroom and sat on the counter. Lifting his legs to the counter as well, he rested his arms on his knees and put his head in his hands. He had done a very, very stupid thing. He had fallen for Draco. And not "I want to screw your brains out" type love, either. Not even the "I actually want to be with you" love. No, this was "I want to hold you, touch you, walk down the halls holding your hand and marry you" type of love. The type that you couldn't get away from.

When the hell had this happened? Harry wondered. When he'd brought Draco here it had been with the sole intention of seducing Draco and getting the arrogant blonde out of his system, not to have any actual **feelings** develop. Then, when Harry hadn't been looking, the Slytherin had crawled even farther under his skin; so far in fact that Harry never wanted to let him go.

And therein laid the problem. Because though it seemed Harry had accomplished his mission, that wasn't all he wanted anymore. He wanted Draco to be just as in love with Harry as Harry was with him, and that was never going to happen. Oh, he could probably have the blonde for one night, but then what? Draco would go his own way, denying everything and leaving Harry a wreck. Harry let out a soft groan. Why oh why couldn't he have fallen for someone else, anyone else? Hell, even **Cho** would be a better choice than Draco, and she had more emotional baggage than anyone he knew…and that was saying something.

**Hell**, Harry thought wryly, **if I knew I was gonna be having an all out mope fest, I'd have chosen a room with a view…hindsight's a crying bastard**. The thought barely made him crack a smile. Sighing again and running a hand through his already messy hair, Harry made a decision. Giving his reflection a mock-salute and cursing whatever god was in charge of Brilliant Plans, Harry left the bathroom.

~****~

When Draco woke Harry was seated in one of the plushy chairs, fully dressed and calmly eating breakfast. He looked up and Draco smiled at him. "'Morning", he said sleepily, and Harry smiled back. "Good morning", he replied, and took a deep breath to ready himself for what he was about to say, putting his hands in his lap so neither boy would be able to see if they shook. "By the way, the door is unlocked." Grey eyes widened in surprise and flashed to the door, then back to Harry's face. "You mean…"

Harry nodded. "The way I see it, you have two options. One, you can get dressed and walk out the door, and we'll never speak of this weekend again. Two, you can get dressed and spend the rest of the day with me, leave at midnight and-" here Harry paused to swallow hard; he was so nervous, and he hated it, "-we don't ever have to speak of this weekend again, if you don't want." Draco simply stared at him, so Harry continued quickly, "It really is up to you. Do whatever you like, but for the record I-I want you to stay." Finished, Harry went back to his breakfast, trying to appear calm but his stomach in knots as he watched Draco out of the corner of his eye.

The blonde stared at him for a little while longer, then when Harry didn't say anything or even look up from his breakfast, he stood and went into the bathroom. Harry let out the breath that he'd been holding. Would Draco stay? Harry hoped so fiercely, but he had to admit that it was doubtful. The other boy would probably run to the door, waiting until he was safely out of Harry's reach before yelling out some insult or comment that would cut Harry deeper than any other insult from the blonde ever had. Harry really loathed this being in love business.

Hearing the bathroom door open, Harry quickly went back to his food, trying to look as though he hadn't been worrying about the other boy's choice at all. Who cared, really? Right. He kept his head bent over his plate, not looking at Draco, listening to the sound of the blonde's footsteps as they moved from the bathroom to the bed, and finally the place Harry had been dreading: the door out into the hall. The footsteps reached the door; it opened and closed, and still Harry didn't lift his head up. He had gone then. Harry knew that he really shouldn't have expected any different, he had known that Draco would leave if given the choice, but that didn't stop the ache in his heart.

Sighing wistfully, Harry got rid of the breakfast and the chairs and table. He got rid of the bathroom as well. Turning towards the bed, he was about to get rid of that too when a voice behind him said, "I think we might be needing that."

Startled, Harry turned around to face Draco, who was smirking. "What, you didn't think I left, did you Potter? I just wanted to make sure you weren't lying, is all." Draco walked until he was face to face with Harry, and stared at him. Harry stared back without saying anything, and after a few moments Draco reached up and stroked a hand down the side of Harry's face, startling him so that his mouth fell open and he gaped at the Slytherin. Draco smiled. "I did some thinking last night, Harry Potter", he said softly, moving his hand to stroke through raven tresses. Harry closed his eyes in pleasure and Draco continued, "I did some thinking, and I realized that there is a chance that I might possibly be attracted to you. Maybe. And maybe I shouldn't let you throwing yourself at me go to waste…maybe."

The last word was barely a whisper. Harry's eyes flew open in surprise as he felt Draco's breath ghost over his lips, and they widened when he realized that the other boy was almost kissing him. Harry looked at Draco, and wasn't surprised to find those grey eyes watching him, studying him. Harry so desperately wanted to close the gap between their lips, but he kept himself still, knowing that Draco was working himself up to do something and not wanting to pressure the blonde.

Draco frowned slightly as he studied Harry's face, and suddenly he looked unsure. Then his face screwed up in determination and he leaned in, giving Harry a small chaste kiss. Once again Harry had to struggle with himself; he wanted nothing more than to pull the blond closer; to tangle his hands in that perfect blonde hair and force his tongue into that waiting mouth, but he kept still, hands at his sides, waiting for Draco once again.

Draco did not disappoint. Slowly, the blonde's mouth opened and his tongue ventured out to trace Harry's lips, asking for entrance. Harry gave it willingly, and Draco began a tentative exploration of his mouth that drove Harry wild. Closing his eyes, he made a soft noise in the back of his throat, silently begging Draco to stop teasing him and kiss him properly, but Draco, seeing the power he held over the darker boy, kept kissing him lightly, softly, so that Harry almost felt he was imagining it.

Finally the torture became too much, and Harry reached up; grabbing the back of Draco's head he forced that delicious mouth into firmer contact with his own, and this time it was Draco who made a small noise in the back of his throat as Harry forced his own tongue past the blonde's lips. Draco's hand tightened in Harry's hair, and his other wrapped around the darker boy's waist as he began moving forward slowly, forcing Harry to move backwards until his legs met the bed and he fell back onto it, bringing Draco with him. He felt the blonde grin against his lips and wondered if that had been Draco's plan from the very beginning, but then it didn't matter because Draco was grinding into him in a way that was highly reminiscent of the day before, and both boys' clothing was disappearing at an alarming rate, and then the only thing in the world that mattered was Draco, Draco, Draco…

When it was over Harry fell into a peaceful sleep, a contented smile on his face. Draco was his, and that was all that mattered.

~****~

For once in his life, Harry woke slowly, and he stretched languidly, turning to smile at his Draco. Only to find that there was no one beside him. The room was dark, the bed was cold, and Draco was gone. Harry stared for a second in disbelief, then shook his head at his foolishness. Of course Draco wouldn't be here; he'd gotten what he wanted out of Harry, hadn't he? Calling himself every kind of fool for believing the blonde might actually love him back, Harry got up and got dressed, hating himself as he looked hopefully for a note or something that Draco might have left him. Anything to prove that the Slytherin didn't regret what had happened.

There was nothing there. Harry had known there wouldn't be, and he loathed himself for hoping. It hurt, was the thing. Harry had allowed himself to believe that Draco might actually have feelings for him, and the sure knowledge that he didn't stung. His eyes stung with tears; Harry blinked them back furiously. No way he was going to cry over Draco. No. Malfoy. After Harry left this room it had to go back to Malfoy. Harry was not a moony person by nature, and there was no way in hell he was going to start now.

With this in mind, Harry got rid of the bed and left the Room of Requirement to go back to his old life, Draco-no, Malfoy-free.

~****~

When Harry reached the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, he didn't even need to say the password, because the last two people he wanted to see came out at the same time he reached it: Ron and Hermione. **Oh, goodie**, Harry thought sarcastically, **just who I wanted to see**. He really didn't feel like explaining where he'd been all weekend, and more important, who he'd been with.

The two didn't notice him at first; they were too busy with something Hermione was holding. It looked like-surprise, surprise-a book, but why on earth would **Ron **be interested in some book?

Harry didn't have time to ponder this, because right at that moment Hermione looked up, spotted Harry, and grinned, stopping and reaching out to stop Ron as well. Ron looked up, startled, then grinned at Harry. "Sooo…" he started, raising his eyebrows, and Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Sooo…what?" he asked, and Ron's grin grew wider, and he winked at Harry, who gaped. "You okay, mate?" he asked, and Ron winked again. "You know…" he said, trailing off once again. 

By now Harry was really confused, and it must have shown on his face, because Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh and said, "He wants to know if you and Malfoy shagged."

Harry's mouth fell open and he stared at them, first Hermione and then Ron, in complete and utter shock. "How…How on earth did you…" he stuttered, and Ron's grin spread even more, if that was humanly possible. "We're not **complete **idiots, Harry," he started, but at Hermione's glare, quickly added, "at least, 'Mione isn't. She was the one who thought to use the Marauder's Map when you didn't show up at all yesterday. We saw you and Malfoy in the Room of Requirement…" Ron shook his head in complete awe. "I have to say, Harry, that I never thought you'd get the guts to kidnap **Malfoy **of all people, but…wow."

Harry just shook his head. "Ok, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" he asked, and Ron frowned at him. "What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, and Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, I get that you're trying to be supportive, but if you want to yell at me for liking bloody Malfoy, go ahead." Ron's frown faded and the grin returned. "Oh, that. Don't worry, mate, I've had plenty of time to reconcile myself with **that** idea…though I will keep that whole yelling bit in mind." 

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "What? How?" he asked, and Hermione laughed. "You're not that hard to read Harry. Besides, it was obvious, even for you. If you didn't want anyone to know that you had a thing for Malfoy, you really should have stopped staring at him all the time. Honestly." Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed her head, Ron next to her copying the movement perfectly. Catching it, Hermione turned and slapped Ron upside the head. "Prat", she said, just as Ron cried, "Yeeouch!" Then they looked at each other and started to laugh.

Harry cocked his head to the side and studied the two of them while they laughed. He noticed for the first time how close together they were, how they had been reading the book, their heads almost touching, and-Harry looked lower and a small smirk appeared on his face-were they **holding hands**? Smirk growing wider, Harry asked, "You two are shagging, aren't you?"

Ron choked, and Hermione, eyes wide, disentangled her hand from his to smack him on the back. Ron stopped choking, and they both looked up at Harry with identical deer in headlights expressions. Harry laughed. "You **are**", he crowed triumphantly. "Since when?" 

Ron started choking again, and Hermione sighed impatiently. "What Ron means to say is that **no**, we are not shagging, but we have been together since…well, Friday, I guess." Ron turned as red as his hair and mumbled, "Yeah, what she said." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Gee, Ron, if a little thing like admitting to your best friend that you fancy me gets you this worked up, imagine what'll happen when I tell him what you said to me in the library." Hermione put a hand to her heart and deepened her voice as much as she could. "'Oh, Hermione, I realized when you took up with that idiot Krum—'"

"Okay, that's quite enough", Ron said, putting his hand over Hermione's mouth. "We're not here to discuss us, we're here to discuss Harry and Malfoy. Promise you wont say anything?" Hermione nodded, eyes dancing, and Ron released her. Turning to Harry he started, "So, you and Ma—"

"'That I didn't want you to be with anyone but me—'" Hermione continued, until Ron's hand was once again over her mouth. "Ok, no more out of you", he said, redder than ever. Giving her his best glare, he once again turned back to Harry, and keeping his hand firmly over his girlfriend's mouth, he said, "So do I have to start being nice to Malfoy, or are you going back to staring across the classroom at him?"

Harry clenched his jaw as pain shot through him. **Bullocks to this love business**, he thought angrily, **it hurts too damn much**. "Don't worry, Ron", he hissed, "You don't have to do anything to Malfoy, and there definitely won't be any staring in Potions. There'll be nothing more to do with Malfoy at all." With that, Harry stormed through the still open portrait and into his room, where he flung himself on his bed and pulled the pillow over his head in a mixture of pain and rage. It was all very angsty and dramatic.

About two minutes later, right on cue, Hermione and Ron entered the room and sat down by Harry, one on either side of the bed. Harry knew that they were waiting for him to explain, but he didn't want to, so he didn't remove the pillow from his head. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Hermione—of course it was Hermione, who else would it be?—gave up and asked, "Okay, Harry, what happened?" 

Harry finally removed the pillow from his head and turned to look at his friends. "I did something stupid." He stated, then immediately put the pillow back over his head. Childish, but effective, as Hermione instantly started petting his hair and cooed, "What is it? Surely it can't be that bad." Harry didn't even bother pulling the pillow from his face. "Trust me, it is", he replied, and next to him, Ron groaned. Suddenly Harry's eyes were being stung by light, as Ron had pulled the pillow from his head. The other boy's face was pale. "Harry, just do me one favor. Tell me that you didn't do something completely crazy like fall in love with Malfoy, okay? Just that one favor."

Harry looked up at Ron with pleading eyes, and Ron shook his head. "I can't believe you, Harry. Why the hell did you want to go and do something like that for?" Harry sighed. "I didn't mean to Ron", he said pitifully. "It's not like I wanted to. It just happened." Ron frowned. "But Harry…" he started. Hermione sent him a glare. He sighed. "That offer to yell at you still good?" he asked weakly, trying to smile, and doing a pretty good job of it considering how much Trauma he'd just suffered. Harry tried to smile back, but it failed, and Harry grabbed his pillow back from Ron and once again buried his head. "Could you guys just leave me alone for a little while?" he asked softly, trying to sound as pathetic as possible. It worked, for Ron immediately said "Sure thing, mate", and bounded out of the room, and Hermione grabbed Ron's pillow from his bed. Placing the pillow under Harry's head, she asked, "Anything you want before I go, Harry?"

He peeked around the pillow hopefully. "Some ice cream from the kitchens?" he asked. Hermione smiled and nodded. "I'll send Dobby up with some," she said, petting his hair one last time before leaving, pausing to call, "Feel better, Harry", before leaving.

Ten minutes later, the pillow was once again pulled off of Harry's head, this time so the that he could enjoy some of his favorite snack food: vanilla ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup. He thanked Dobby, barely registering the little house elf's cries of gratitude. He was too busy eating his ice cream. **Mmm…ice cream** Harry thought happily, thoughts of Draco forgotten for the time being…and all was right with the world.

**A/N 2: I do truly believe that if everyone had a bowl of ice cream, all would be right with the world. Anyway, that's it, the 7th installment of The Plan. Woo-hoo.  Hope you enjoyed. And please remember to review. Thanks muchly.**


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Well, here it be, another update. Yayness. I have not too much to say this time except I hope you like. And thank you, thank you, thank you for your wonderful reviews!!!

Starr Light1—I didn't realize that I had done that. I tried very hard to keep away from the word need when writing Draco's thoughts…oops. As to the note thing, Harry's not thinking very clearly…*grins*

Special thanks to zen kitten, who's review cracked me up and gave me the idea to mention Stockholm syndrome. 

While Harry was experiencing the joys of ice cream up in Gryffindor Tower, Draco Malfoy was trying to sneak into his dorm room without being seen. This task was not as easy as it sounds, however, and Draco gave a small groan of frustration as he was forced to duck into yet another classroom to avoid being seen by one of his dorm mates.

Draco refused to think about what had taken place in the strange room earlier. Instead, he worried about what he was going to say to explain his absence from his dorm, meals, and everything else for the past few days. According to his and Potter's agreement, he couldn't very well tell the truth…not that he would anyway.

Draco was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps of the person approaching him until it was too late. By the time he glanced up, he'd been spotted, and there was nothing he could do but stand there as Millicent Bulstrode walked up to him, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"And where have you been all weekend?" she demanded. Draco shook his head, and Millicent smirked at him. "Whatever it is, Pansy 's gonna kill you She's been freaking out all weekend, thinking that you were dead or some such nonsense. C'mon, better get the screeching over with." She said, gesturing for him to follow her. Draco shook his head again and stepped back.

"Nope. No way", he answered firmly. He'd seen Pansy in a rage before. It was not a pretty sight, and Draco had no desire to experience it a second time. Millicent scowled. "Don't you for one second think that I'm going back there without you."

Draco shrugged. "So don't," he said carelessly, and began to walk away. He heard Millicent sigh, and that was all the warning he got before he was picked up and tossed unceremoniously over one of Millicent's meaty shoulders.

Letting out a loud, girly shriek, Draco immediately began struggling, legs flailing and fists pounding uselessly on Millicent's large back. Millicent grunted, and began to walk towards the Slytherin common room.

Realizing that his current attempt at escape was getting him nowhere, Draco decided to use his old standby: flinging insults in the hope that Millicent might put him down to take a swing at him, thereby giving Draco a chance to make a break for freedom.

"Put me down, you fat cow! You cretin! You diseased spawn of a blast-ended skrewt and a flobberworm! Put me down this instant!"

Millicent snorted. "Diseased spawn of a blast-ended skrewt and a flobberworm? That's a new one", she said. By now they'd reached the entrance to the common room, and Draco decided that a little hurt pride was a small price to pay when facing the Wrath of Pansy, and therefore resorted to the last possible option: begging shamelessly.

"Please. Millie, really, you don't want to see me torn apart, do you? I'll do anything, **anything**, if you just let me go."

Millicent stopped. "Anything?" she asked curiously, and Draco nodded eagerly. "Anything", he replied, adding for good measure, "**Please**, Millie." He was so close to freedom. So close…

"Sorry, Draco," Millicent said, looking anything but. "As tempting as your offer is, I must say that it pales considerably beside the enjoyment of watching Pansy freak out on you. Riddle", she said, and the secret door in the wall slid open. Millicent marched into the common room with Draco whimpering piteously. Once inside, she dumped Draco to the floor ungently, and Draco just **knew **that there'd be bruises from **that **little fall.

"Look what I found skulking around outside the common room", Millicent announced, and nearly every head swiveled to look at Draco, who stood regally and glared at everyone. As he did so, a small sliver of relief shot through him. It didn't look as though Pansy was here, at least. 

"DRACO MALFOY!" a voice shrieked from the entrance to the girl's dormitory, and Draco winced. It seemed Pansy was here, after all. Draco glanced up, wincing again as he saw Pansy coming towards him, the wrath of several gods on her face. Draco gulped and took an involuntary step backwards. Millicent laughed.

Pansy stopped within an inch of Draco and fixed him with her angriest glare. "Where were you all weekend?" she demanded, and Draco shook his head. Blaise Zabini snickered from his spot on the couch. "He was getting laid", he called over, and as the occupants of the room burst into amused laughter Draco's eyes widened slightly.

Pansy's own eyes widened as she took in Draco's reaction to Blaise's remark, and without another word she grabbed his hand and dragged him to a secluded corner of the room, where no one would hear their conversation. There was a small murmur of disapproval, but eventually the other Slytherins turned back to what they'd been doing before Millicent had carried Draco in.

Once everyone had stopped watching them, Pansy turned back to Draco with an expectant look on her face. "Okay, spill it", she demanded. Draco didn't answer and Pansy's expectant look melted into a scowl. "Tell, or I'll have Millicent beat it out of you", she threatened, her voice rising. Millicent looked up at them hopefully, and Draco shuddered. "Fine", he said through gritted teeth, looking down and taking a deep breath for courage. When he looked back up at Pansy he let it out in a rush.

"Potterkidnappedmeandtoldmehelikedmewemadeatruceandthenhadsexnow here I am and boy am I glad I got that off of my chest. Bye now." He stood to leave, but Pansy grabbed him by his robes and pulled him back down. "**What**?" she said, eyes wide, and Draco knew that somehow she had understood him. How, he would never know, but that was hardly important. What was important was that now Draco had some explaining to do.

"You heard me. Potter kidnapped me, locked me in a strange room with him, and confessed to liking me. Eventually, he wrung a truce out of me, and we kinda became friends…or something like it. He promised to let me go today, and he did…after I slept with him. And now, here I am, and I think that there may be something seriously wrong with me.

Pansy was visibly stunned, but she collected herself enough to ask, "Why do you think that?"

Draco sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, all weekend all I wanted was to get out of that blasted room. All I could think about was getting as far away from Ha-Potter as possible. But then when he unlocked the door, I didn't want to go. I had to force myself to leave. I think I may have developed that problem…you know, the one where the prisoner starts to sympathize with the captor…what's it called? Stuckhan Syndrome?"

Pansy smiled. "I believe it's called Stockholm syndrome", she said, and Draco nodded, relieved that she understood. "Yeah that. So what do you think?" he asked. Pansy smirked. "Could be," she said, and Draco relaxed. But then she continued, "…or you could just have the hots for Potter."

Draco gaped at Pansy, who's smirk grew wider as she dropped the bomb. "You know, I've always suspected that you fancied boys, and Potter in particular."

"What?" Draco hissed, and Pansy nodded smugly. "It's true", she said, and Draco, quite predictably, freaked. "I am **not gay**," he said, keeping his voice down by a large effort of will. Pansy gave him a skeptical look. "I'm **not**," Draco insisted. "I think I'd know if I **was**."

Pansy shook her head. "You're in denial", she informed him, and Draco laughed incredulously. "Denial?" he said. "Please. I'm not in denial, and you're just pissed because you cant back up your ridiculous theories."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "I can so prove them", she said, and Draco snorted in disbelief. "Okay then," he said, crossing his arms and fixing Pansy with a challenging glare. "Prove it."

Pansy raised her eyebrows and began to list the reasons she thought Draco fancied boys and Potter in particular, ticking them off on her fingers as she went along.

"You've never been on a date with a girl—"

"I went to the Yule Ball with you fourth year!" 

Pansy waved this off. "Doesn't count. I asked you and you only said yes to avoid looking as pathetic as Crabbe and Goyle. Besides," she added as Draco spluttered, "you ditched me as soon as Potter left the dance."

Draco was horrified. "I did no such—" he started, but Pansy cut him off. "Yes you did, but no matter. Dates aside, you never even **look **at girls. The only girl you looked at for more than two seconds was Cho Chang, and that was only to inform us of what bad taste Potter has."

Draco opened his mouth to say something along the lines of, "Well, he does", when he realized that since Potter liked him, to say such a thing would be to insult himself as well. He shut his mouth with a snap. Pansy sent him a smirk, then continued. "You're always going on and on about Potter—"

"Hello! We're **enemies**! That's the sort of thing that enemies **do**!" Draco screeched, startling a couple of first years, who looked up at him with wide eyes. "What are you looking at?" he barked, and was gratified to see the fear in their faces before they scurried off to do whatever it was that first years did these days.

Somewhat calmed by the knowledge that he could still terrify the masses, Draco turned back to Pansy, only to find her laughing at him. He scowled at her. "What's so funny?"

Pansy wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "So **that's **what enemies do," she said through her laughter. "Silly old me, thinking that two people who hated each other would want to spend as much time apart as possible." Pansy rolled her eyes and her voice became bitingly sarcastic. "Now I see the error of my ways. I suppose all bitter rivals and archenemies go out of their way to see each other—"

"I do not—" Draco started, but Pansy's voice cut across his easily. "I suppose enemies always find themselves locked up in mysterious rooms, shagging like bunnies. ("Bunnies?" Draco spluttered. "I hardly think one time qualifies.") I suppose it's perfectly normal for one enemy to ogle the other's arse in Potions—"

"Okay, that's it. That's the last **straw**. I don't, I repeat, **do not **ogle Harry Potter's arse!"

The room went quiet as everyone looked at Draco and Pansy. Draco felt himself blush and ducked his head. Pansy laughed. "Go back to your lives, people", she said with a wave of her hand. "Draco's just denying his true feelings for Potter."

Draco had never seen so many raised eyebrows in one place before. Completely mortified, Draco stood, snarled, "Not a word", and promptly fled the common room, the sound of his dorm mate's laughter following him as he went into the hall. Once out of the presence of his House, Draco slid to the floor. Resting his head against against the stone wall, he closed his eyes and added another item to a mental list entitled 'Why I Should Never Tell Pansy Anything Remotely Serious.'

Of course, knowing that he shouldn't tell Pansy anything serious hadn't stopped him from doing just that in the past; so when Pansy cam out of the common room soon after him, Draco had no qualms about picking up the conversation where it had left off.

"I don't stare at Potter's arse", he said petulantly, and Pansy laughed. "I never said you did", she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. Draco frowned. "I don't," he repeated stubbornly. Pansy rolled her eyes. "I know that, you git", she said exasperatedly.

Draco's head shot up in surprise. "What?" he demanded, and Pansy sighed. "You're pathetic, you know that?" she told him almost smugly. Draco glared. Pansy grinned. "Well you are," she repeated, moving to sit beside him. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you've pretty much been considered Potters Property since the beginning of the year."

Draco gaped at Pansy in shock. "Potter's Property?" he repeated. "Since the beginning of the year?" Pansy nodded. "Since he deigned to inform us plebes of his sexuality," she replied, adding, "And since he was caught staring at you several times afterwards," almost as an afterthought.

But Draco hardly heard what the girl was saying. He was still focused on what she'd revealed earlier. "Potter's Property?" he nearly shrieked. "I'll show them who the property around here is, alright. Potter's Property indeed." Furious, Draco stood, fully prepared storm back into the common room and give everyone present a piece of his mind, when Pansy grabbed hold of his arm. Draco snarled at her and tried to yank his arm out of her grasp, but she had quite a tight grip on him and didn't let go.

"Look, don't blame them, okay?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "It's just that when we figured out Potter had a thing for you, everyone just sort of gave up. He **is **Harry Potter, after all, and the Golden Boy always gets what he wants."

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? The whole reason why Draco had made himself leave Potter sprawled on the bed, naked and alone, instead of waiting for him to wake up before going. Potter had wanted Draco, and Draco had given in and let Potter have what he wanted; now the other boy had no need for him.

Furious at himself for the pain that accompanied this thought, Draco ripped his arm from Pansy's grasp, panting harshly. Turning away from the girl for a moment, Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, composing himself. When he turned back to Pansy, his face was once again the cold mask that he'd perfected over the years, and his voice when he spoke was tinged with bitterness.

"Well, then, this was no different than usual, was it? I gave Wonder Boy what he wanted, and now he has no use for me. How typical."

Draco brushed past Pansy and walked briskly down the hall, ignoring her when she called for him to come back. He didn't want to deal with her right now. Right now, all he wanted was to be as far away from anything connected to Harry Potter as he could get.

Which was pretty ironic, actually, considering that his feet lead him to the library, second home to none other than Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire and best friend of the one person Draco really, really didn't want to think about.

Once Draco realized where he was headed, he immediately turned the other way, but as luck would have it, said Granger was exiting the library just as Draco turned away, and she was in the mood for a confrontation.

"Hey Malfoy", she called, heading towards him. Draco considered his options. He could act like he hadn't heard her and keep walking…but he'd paused, so she'd know he was faking. He could abandon all sense of pride and make a break for it…but then she'd think that he was afraid of her, which simply was not on. Besides, something in him recoiled sharply at the thought of running away. There was no hope for it; Draco would have to face her. Groaning mentally, he turned around to do just that, and was startled to find that she was already level with him.

Refusing to let her see how she had already gotten to him, Draco gave her his most disdainful smirk and drawled, "You want something, mudblood?"

Granger glared at him. "You're an asshole, Malfoy," she told him, and Draco's smirk grew wider. "Gee, I do believe I might cry. Your opinion means so very much to me, you know." Rolling his eyes, Draco turned to leave, but Granger grabbed hold of his arm—what was **with** girls doing this lately? He wondered—and spun him 'round to face her.

She was livid. Her eyes burned brightly with anger, and two spots of bright red streaked her cheekbones, which was the only color in an otherwise pale face. Her bushy hair looked wilder than ever, and Draco found himself a bit intimidated, much to his dismay.

"You listen here, Malfoy", she told him, gripping his arm tightly in case he should try to escape once again. "You listen, and listen well, because I wont be repeating myself. You are a prick. I hate you. Ron hates you. By all rights Harry should hate you as well. But he doesn't. Quite the opposite, actually. You don't deserve him, but—"

"Fuck him", Draco said, trying to rip his suddenly shaking arm from Granger's grasp and failing miserably. Wrong thing to say. Granger's eyes narrowed and she hissed, "From what I understand, Malfoy, you were the one getting fucked, so why don't you just shut up and let me finish?" Stunned, Draco didn't reply, and Granger nodded, satisfied.

"As I was saying," she continued, "despite all reasons to the contrary, you're what Harry wants, and perhaps if he can look past everything you've done, so can we." Granger didn't look as though she believed what she was saying, and Draco didn't blame her. He didn't believe her himself. But that was neither here nor there at the moment, because Draco was stuck on an earlier statement, per usual.

"I don't bloody care what Potter wants", he yelled, finally succeeding in wrenching his arm out of Granger's death grip. "He can go get what he wants from someone else, because he's never getting it from me."  That said, Draco turned his back on the interfering little mudblood and started away, repeating, "never again" under his breath as he went. No way. He knew that if he gave in now, he would lose, and not just his pride. So he didn't turn back, not even when Granger called out to him.

"You know, Draco", she began, and Draco froze. "You don't lose if it's what you want, too. No one loses if both parties want the same thing." There was a pause in which Draco refused to acknowledge that he had heard or understood what she'd said, and Granger sighed. "Just think about it," she advised, and then there was the sound of her footsteps as she walked away from him.

Draco allowed his own feet to carry him wherever they pleased as he pondered what Granger had told him. Could he give Potter what he wanted and not lose himself in the process? More importantly, did he want to? 

"Lost, boy?" the voice broke through his thoughts, and Draco looked up into the face of Bartleby the Barmy, troll ballet forgotten for the moment as he peered at Draco in concern. Draco didn't answer; rather he looked to where the door to the mysterious room had been just that morning, only to find a blank wall. And with the dart of pain that sliced through him as he looked at the wall, Draco knew the answers to his questions, and better yet, how to get what he himself wanted.

But first he needed to find out a few things. Turning to Bartleby, who was still looking at him worriedly, Draco asked, "So, how exactly does this room here work?"

**A/N 2: So, what's our dear lil Drakkie planning? I know! Tee hee…Well, what say you? Good? Bad? Well???? Click on that lil purple (or is it blue?) button and lemme know!!**


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N: Yes, I do realize that this has been rather long in coming, but now it is here…and it is over. Tis a sad sad day for us all. grin nahh, not really. I did become rather attached to this fic, and I hope you guys did too. I hope the last part fits with the rest, and that you wonderful, wonderful people who have given me such lovely reviews are satisfied with the way it ends. You guys have been the best and all I have to say is thank you so so so much! **

**And just when you thought I was done, I surprise you. I have one last thing to say. My loverly and talented friend, hobo-hobisho, is writing herself a fic that includes the following pairings: Hermione/Snape, Ron/Luna, and yes, Harry/Draco. This girl is truly a talented writer and you should definitely check out her stuff. The fic I am talking about is called "Not the First to Say" and you can find it by going to my fav authors sec on my bio and clicking hobo-hobisho. Trust me, you'll be glad you did.**

**And now, on with the fic!!**

"I don't think so, Harry," Hermione replied to Harry's feeble attempt at getting out of Potions. "Though I daresay your broken heart is real enough, I highly doubt Snape would sympathize. Now get up." She was standing over Harry's bed in the boy's dorms, having come up there after Ron had informed her of Harry's intentions to skip the first class of the day, and now she punctuated her command with a sharp kick to Harry's bed.

Harry gave Hermione a defiant glare and pulled the covers over his head. "Don't wanna," he told her, voice muffled. "S'too warm." He was confident that Hermione would find this endearing, and leave him alone to wallow in his misery. However, he had underestimated Hermione's attitude towards skipping class. With an exasperated sigh she moved to the foot of Harry's bed and pulled his covers all the way off of him.

Harry let out a yell and glared at his friend, who was grinning at him cheekily. "Not so warm anymore is it?" she asked smugly, and Harry glared harder.

"What's your problem, 'Mione? For all you knew, I could have been naked under there!" Hermione laughed.

"But you aren't, are you? Besides, it's not as though you have anything I haven't seen before." She answered, looking Harry's boxer clad form up and down and making him blush.

"That's not the point," he muttered, and Hermione grinned.

"No," she agreed, "the point is that you **will **be going to class today. Now get dressed. If you're not ready in ten minutes I'm coming back up here to dress you myself, and trust me, you don't want that to happen." That said, Hermione left the room, whistling happily.

Grumbling, Harry did as he was told, mostly because he knew that Hermione really would carry out her threat. It had happened before, and Harry's skin was still chafing from the result. Whoever said that leather trousers were comfortable was a sodding liar.

When Harry appeared in the common room eight minutes later, it was empty save Ron and Hermione, who gave him a disappointed glare. "Damn," she said sadly, "I was hoping you'd take longer…I really fancied putting you in spandex today." Both Harry and Ron gave a small shudder. Hermione shrugged, seemingly oblivious, but her eyes were glinting mischievously as she continued, "Oh well, there's always next time." Catching Harry's eye, her expression suddenly became serious, and she moved to stand in front of him. Placing her hands on his shoulders she told him seriously, "This really is for your own good you know. You have to face him sometime, and the longer you wait the harder it'll be. The best thing you could possibly do is go out there and show him just what he's letting go." Placing a small kiss on Harry's cheek, Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and started pulling him to the door, saying, "I expect we missed breakfast. No bother, I'm not very hungry anyway."

Harry heard Ron's wail of "But I **am**," and smiled. Gathering his books together, he thought about what Hermione had said, and decided she was right. The moping had been rather fun yesterday, what with getting both Hermione and Ron to do his bidding, but carrying it on into today would just make him look like a lovesick idiot, and though he was that, there was no way he wanted Draco—no, Malfoy, damn it—to know that.

With this thought firmly entrenched in his mind, Harry shoved his books into his bag and marched out of the common room, head high as he headed for Potions, and D-Malfoy.

The first thing that Harry noticed as he walked into Potions was that Snape was not present, which was unusual to say the least. Snape was always in his classroom before the students, ready with some scathing comment for the Gryffindors in general or Harry in particular. Giving a mental shrug at this oddity Harry sat down next to Hermione, who smiled at him before burying her nose back in the book she had been reading before Harry had come in. Harry shared a Look with Ron before his eyes were pulled unwillingly to the Slytherin half of the room, and one seat in particular.

Draco wasn't there, and for a minute Harry felt concern pricking at him, before he remembered that he was supposed to be working at hating the other boy again. Angry with himself for giving in so early, he started to turn his gaze away, when he noticed none other than Pansy Parkinson staring at him, a speculative look on her face. Eyes widening slightly, Harry tore his gaze away from the girl and stared at the tabletop, thinking with a sinking feeling in his stomach that D-Malfoy had told all of Slytherin what had happened in the Room of Requirement. He heard a snicker from that side of the room, and his back tensed. Ron noticed and leaned over Hermione to ask, "Alright, Harry?"

Harry was about to reply when none other than Professor Snape swooped into the room in all his sexy glory (this is for you hobo!). Glaring at Harry, he snapped, "Potter, close your mouth. Five points from Gryffindor for talking during class." Then he proceeded to lecture on the potion they would be making that day, before telling them to get to work. Harry, still concerned with the fact that all of Slytherin most likely knew that he had a thing for Draco Malfoy, was absently adding some lacewing to his potion when Hermione grabbed his wrist. "Harry, what on earth are you doing?" she demanded. "You add that stuff now and the whole thing will explode." She pointed to the instructions written in Harry's messy scrawl on a piece of parchment. "You have to add the shrivelfig before the lacewing, then stir." Harry grinned sheepishly and was just about to thank Hermione before he was interrupted.

"Five points from Gryffindor for helping Potter with his potion, Miss Granger. Potter, start over," Snape said, giving Harry an evil smirk as he did so. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut him off. "Ten points from Gryffindor for disobeying me, Potter. Now, go sit by Miss Parkinson. I trust that there won't be any problems."

Harry didn't even bother trying to change Snape's mind. Instead, he began to collect his things, and was reaching for his cauldron when his swift and sometimes irrational anger took over. Glaring at Snape, who was turned away from Harry and helping Goyle with his potion, Harry reached out—and knocked his still simmering potion off of his desk.

The cauldron made a satisfying thump as it hit the floor; the sound in the nearly silent room was as loud as a gunshot. The unfinished potion went everywhere, splattering the floor and several desks…and the hem of Snape's robes. Slowly Snape turned to yell at Harry, but before he could even open his mouth, something happened which put all thoughts of yelling at anyone out of his mind…for the time being.

There was a sizzling sound, and as the students watched, wide-eyed, as Harry's potion began destroying everything it had touched, just like acid. Holes appeared in the floor, and the desks. Harry stared at these for a few moments, fascinated, before he remembered the potion that had gotten on Snape's robes. As luck would have it, it was at that exact moment that Snape let out a howl of pain.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at Snape, mouths dropping open as they witnessed their professor hopping up and down on one foot and then the other while simultaneously shrugging off his robes. With his robes gone, Snape raised one foot and tore off his shoes and socks, then the other, revealing horribly blistered feet—no doubt another lovely result of Harry's unfinished disaster.

Snape massaged his foot for a few moments, then turned his hate-filled eyes on Harry. "Get out," he hissed. "Get out right now and maybe I won't kill you."

Harry didn't need to be told twice, and he was out of the classroom in a flash, Ron's promise to bring his stuff barely registering in his mind. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He would never have pushed the damn cauldron off of the table had he known…but that didn't mean he wasn't quite happy with the result, anyway. And as an added bonus, he had the rest of the hour off, without detention.

Deciding that the day might not be so horrible after all, Harry made his way down to the kitchens. Lunch wasn't for another two hours, and Harry was beginning to feel the affects of missing breakfast.

Ron was delighted with the food that Harry gave him after Potions. Hermione was not. "I can't believe you did that, Harry," she said disapprovingly, wagging her finger in his face. Ron grinned.

"I' wa' beau'ful," he said 'round a mouthful of food. He gave Harry a thumbs up, and when Hermione turned her glare on him put them down…but he was still grinning.

Hermione turned her glare back on Harry, who tried to look innocent. Hermione wasn't fooled. "Don't try that look on me," she snapped, "I **saw **you knock that cauldron off the table, Harry. **On purpose**," she emphasized, glaring all the harder. Harry shrugged.

"So what if I did?" he answered. "It's not as if Snape doesn't deserve it, the way he acts all the time. And besides, no on can prove I did it on purpose."

Hermione shook her head. "**I **do, Harry, and I'm not so sure that I shouldn't tell someone the truth." At Harry's incredulous look, she sighed and continued, "It isn't that I don't think you have every right to be angry. I would have been furious if he did the same to me. It's that you don't even feel bad for nearly destroying his class, and hurting him as well. **That's **what worries me."

Ron snorted. "Stop being so dramatic, 'Mione," he told her. "You know better than anyone that the teachers will have the room fixed in no time. And you know that the potion barely touched Snape. Besides, if it were any other Professor, Harry would feel bad."

Hermione sighed again, and then nodded. "Okay," she said, looking at her timetable. "We have Herbology next. Let's get going before we're late."

Lunch that day was definitely interesting. It seemed that everyone in school had heard about what had happened in Harry's Potions class, and were either sending him disapproving glares or congratulating him on a job well done. The Gryffindors in particular were ecstatic…after suffering in Snape's class with the Slytherins, they felt that it was about time they had some retribution. Dean had clapped him on the back, Seamus had let him take the last piece of chicken, Ginny had given him all of her chocolate frogs, Lavender and Parvati had both kissed him, which had made him blush to the roots of his hair, and in what was probably the weirdest thank-you of all, Neville had burst into tears and kissed him as well.

During all this Hermione had alternated between glaring and smiling at everyone's happiness, and Ron had been stealing Harry's newly acquired chocolate frogs and stuffing them into his mouth, grinning unrepentantly when Harry finally caught him at it. Harry himself was enjoying the merriment that his unthinking actions had caused, and trying not to think of what Draco's expression would be when he found out what had happened. He'd given up on calling him Malfoy sometime during History of Magic, where despite his best efforts at paying attention he fell into sleep and a dream in which Draco loved him as well, and they frolicked in high, blue grass. It wasn't until huge orange bunnies had started hopping around them that he realized Ron must have slipped one of the twins' Drunken Donuts into his impromptu breakfast and woke up with a little scream. **That **had certainly livened up the class, at the very least.

And here he was right now, trying not to think of Draco…except everything that he looked at reminded him of the arrogant blonde. Dean's hand on his back had brought with it the memory of Draco's hands clutching his shoulders as he kissed him, the chicken Seamus gave him reminded him of how cute Draco had looked guarding his own plate of chicken the first night in the Room, and Neville's sloppy, teary kiss-- though reminiscent of Cho more than anything else-- had reminded Harry of how perfect kissing Draco had been.

Giving a slight groan Harry stood up. "I need to get some air," he told his friends, and before they could ask to come with him, left the Great Hall, unaware of a pair of blue eyes following his every move.

Once outside Harry made his way for the Quidditch Pitch, where he liked to go and think. It was there that he had come up with his Plan for Draco, and now it would be the place he moped over said Plan working a little too well. Sitting in the stands, he looked up at the different hoops on either side of the field and thought about how relaxing flying was, which of course led to thoughts of playing Quidditch, which invariably led to thoughts of playing against Draco…and then he was just thinking about Draco, which immediately made him wish that he had a way to just not think…leading to another Plan, though this was not quite as brilliant.

Which was why when Pansy finally found Harry, he was banging his head against the stands as hard as he could, muttering "stupid, stupid, stupid" under his breath as he did so.

For his part, Harry didn't notice anyone else with him until he heard Pansy's voice drawl, "I wouldn't do that if I were you Potter. I've heard that hitting your skull on hard surfaces kills brain cells and I doubt you have any left to spare."

Harry stopped rapping his head on the stands to glare at Pansy balefully. "What do you want, Parkinson?" he demanded angrily. "If you're here to gloat I really wish you'd get it over with and just leave. I'm trying beat myself into oblivion here." When he was finished speaking Harry pulled his head back, fully intending to resume his earlier activity, but Pansy grabbed a hold of his head before he could.

"Wait," she said. "Just let me say what I came out here to say and I'll let you go back to killing the last brain cell you have. Okay?" Harry nodded resignedly, and Pansy let his head go. Taking a deep breath, she looked Harry square in the eye and said, "I know what happened this weekend between you and Draco, and I'm not going to tell anyone. I don't particularly like you but if you're what Draco wants then I guess I'll tolerate your presence." She nodded slightly, smiled at Harry, who was gaping like a fish, then turned and left the pitch briskly, giving Harry no time to reply.

Not that Harry could have. His vocal chords had locked up with the hope that maybe, just maybe, Draco didn't hate him after all. From what Pansy had said Draco might actually want Harry…maybe as much as Harry wanted him? Harry sat pondering this for a few minutes, completely forgetting his intention to rid himself of every memory of Draco through the loss of brain cells, until he was pulled out of his musings by Hermione.

"There you are," she called, shading her eyes from the sun and looking up at him. "Lunch is over. You better get to class; Ron has your things." Sending Hermione a nod he made his way down to her. When he reached her Hermione asked, "I saw Parkinson leaving here earlier. Did she say anything to you?" Harry shook his head no and smiled at Hermione, resolving to think about Pansy's words during dinner.

Of course Harry didn't thing about it during dinner. He thought about it during Divination, where Trelawney told him he would surely die by asphyxiation in the near future, and that he should be wary of people with especially bushy hair—it seemed Trelawney still hadn't forgiven Hermione for calling her a fraud in third year. He thought about it during Transfiguration, where he made the mistake of transfiguring his beetle into a pair of headphones rather than the quill he'd been attempting. Ron had asked to keep the headphones to show his father, and Professor McGonagall had rolled her eyes but said that he might as well.

Needless to say, by the time dinner rolled around Harry was a bit of a wreck. Both Hermione and Ron were giving him concerned looks as they made their way to the Great Hall. Finally Ron asked, "You okay, mate?"

Harry looked into their worried faces and felt bad for practically ignoring them all day. They were his best friends, perhaps they could help him with is current problem. At any rate it would make him feel better to have someone to discuss his problem with. So Harry pulled them into a random hall and told them exactly what Pansy had told him earlier. When he was finished he asked worriedly, "Well? What do you think? Do you think I have a chance?"

Harry didn't find out what they thought, however. At the same moment his friends opened their mouths to respond, Harry felt an insistent tugging at his navel, and his friends faded as Harry was pulled away.

Feeling nauseous, Harry closed his eyes until his world stopped spinning, and he felt his feet hit solid ground. Opening his eyes cautiously, Harry gave a small gasp of surprise when he realized where he was.

He was in the Room of Requirement, but it wasn't the same room that he had brought Draco to. This Room was ultimately more comfortable, with a soft carpet under his feet, not one but **two **fires blazing on either side of the Room, and cushy furniture everywhere. Even the bed looked better, with what looked like down pillows and a down comforter on top of it, and—experimentally Harry sat on the bed—what had to be the softest mattress in the world. Harry was just getting off of the bed when the door to the Room opened and Draco Malfoy stepped inside.

Harry stared at Draco apprehensively. What did the other boy want? As if reading his mind, Draco smirked and said, "I wanted to make you miss dinner like you did to me; though somehow I doubt I had the fortune to catch you on a day when you missed breakfast and lunch as well." Harry felt his hopes fall around his feet in a shattered mess. All Draco had wanted was revenge for Harry's ill-timed kidnap of Draco.

"Sorry, you should have told me what you were planning. Maybe then I could have been more accommodating," Harry snapped, and headed towards the door. He was almost there when Draco stepped in front of him.

"Oh, no, Harry," he said softly. "You wont be getting away that easily." Draco took hold of Harry's arms and reversed their positions so that Harry was the one with his back to the door, with Daco's hands planted on the wall on either side of him to keep him from escaping. But Harry had other plans. Quick as a flash he had turned around and wrenched open the door—only to hear Draco's laughter as the door refused to budge. "You didn't think I'd leave the door unlocked, did you Potter?" he asked through his laughter, and Harry sent Draco a glare, before a smile lit up his face.

"But you forget, Draco, that I know how the Room works," he snapped, and then thought, **I really need the door to unlock now**. Smirking triumphantly over his shoulder, Harry tried to open the door once again, and his face fell when it didn't. Turning around and glaring at Draco, Harry hissed, "What did you do?"

Draco grinned. "You really don't believe I didn't know you'd try that once you found the door was locked, do you?" he asked incredulously, then resumed his laughter. "I'm a Slytherin, Potter, which means that I Plan much, much better than you ever could. Now, I have something to say, and you're not leaving until I'm finished. If you still want to go when I'm done, well, you can, but not until then. Now, are you going to be a good boy and listen, or am I going to have to put a silencing charm on you?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco what he could do with **that** idea, but Draco was much quicker. Before Harry could so much as speak Draco had whipped out his wand and cast a silencing charm on Harry, watching with amusement as Harry continued to try and talk.

"I like this," he said, and Harry wanted to kill him. "I just might have to leave you like this forever." Giving Draco his fiercest glare, Harry made as if to hit him, and Draco grabbed his arms and forced them to his sides. Harry tried to kick him instead, and Draco leaned against Harry, using the weight of his body to still the other boy's struggles. "None of that," he told Harry softly. "Just listen to what I have to say, and then you'll be free to go. I promise."

Harry glared at Draco a moment longer before he gave in and nodded. He would never tell Draco, but the main reason he agreed was that he was liking the way Draco was leaning into him way to much, and if the other boy didn't get off Harry was afraid he might do something stupid, like try to kiss him.

So Harry felt disappointment and relief in equal parts as Draco stepped back, eyeing Harry warily as though he thought the darker boy might try to hit him again. He didn't. Instead, he walked to one of the chairs and sat on it, waiting not so patiently for Draco to say whatever he had to so that he could get out of there. Harry didn't have any clue what Draco wanted to tell him, but he did know that if he never saw the Room of Requirement again, it would be far too soon.

Draco swallowed heavily and sat across from Harry. Looking him straight in the eye he said, "When you first dragged me to this Room, I wanted to hurt you. Hell, I wanted to beat the living daylights out of you and leave you in the hall for any random person to find. Then, when you kissed me, I wanted to do more than hurt you. I wanted to kill you." Unable to handle that frank stare for any longer, Harry looked away, hurt that the person he'd come to love still hated him so.

But Draco wouldn't let him look away. Giving a soft sigh he took Harry's chin in his hand and forced the boy to look at him. "Look at me, please," he said, and Harry forced himself to gaze back into those silver eyes. Draco continued, "It only got worse, you know. Every time I tried to tell myself that I hated you, that I didn't want you, you would do something to make my words a lie. You kept offering yourself to me, and after a while I couldn't say no anymore."

Draco paused and looked away, and Harry took that time to collect himself. He really didn't like where this conversation was going. He didn't like knowing that Draco now hated him even more for pretty much forcing himself on the blonde, and making him do something he really had not wanted to do. Draco turned to look at him again, and Harry told himself that the torture would only last a little while loner. Soon, Draco would be done with his say and Harry could leave. Turns out the only good thing that this was accomplishing was destroying any hopes that Harry might have had that Draco could feel the same. Harry didn't doubt that going back to being his arch nemesis would be very hard after this.

Draco took a deep breath and continued, "And then it was over, and I was allowed to leave. You weren't going to force me into anything. I could just go, and never think about this again…only I couldn't. I couldn't just let it go and I have to ask you something. Was it really so easy for you? Did you feel nothing at all? Because if you went and made me fall for you without feeling anything yourself…" Draco trailed off, then shook his head. "Forget it. I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered. Released Harry from the spell and looked away, saying, "I would prefer it if you forgot this ever happened, Potter," his voice cold.

Now it was Harry's turn to shake his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that Malfoy," he answered, and Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Why not?" he asked, and Harry smirked.

Getting up from his chair he crossed the small space to Draco, and straddled him. Bringing his face close to Draco's, he told the Slytherin, "Because there's no way in hell I'm going to forget that you fell for me, too."

Draco's eyes widened at Harry's words, and he grinned. "Really?" he asked, and Harry laughed.

"Yeah," he replied. "Much as I hate to say it," he added, and Draco laughed, then pouted.

"What is it now?" Harry asked, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly Potter, here we are confessing our undying love for one another, and you have to go and ruin it."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but found himself rather occupied as Draco buried his hands in his hair and brought Harry's mouth to his. And Harry decided on the spot that he rather liked whatever god was in charge of Brilliant Plans, after all.

_Finite, baby._

**Yes my dearies, that is it. The end. It's a done deal. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think. And one more time, go read hobo's fic. I'll even give the direct link for all you lazy ppl. Here it is: http:?storyid=1833015 also check out her other fics if you can. They are hilarious. With that said I'm off…maybe to write more Harry/Draco goodness… sigh we can only hope.**

**Review! Review! Review!**


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Harry Potter, Humor, Romance