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.