Summary: Draco's having a hard time trying to keep his cool...literally.
Hot. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if flames were engulfing him, running through his veins, and the searing heat was spreading through his body like wildfire.
Hot. It was burningly hot.
And all Draco could do about it was sit on his bloody chair in the corner of the stuffy room and watch as Potter, the source of his current discomfort, pranced about looking as if the whole world just had to watch him because he was oh-so-hot.
Well, Potter was hot, but that prat didn't have to go and display it so blatantly like that.
His fingers unconsciously reached up to his shirt and tugged at the collar in a vain attempt to relief some of the heat that was cooking him alive. It was making him irrational and thinking about going up to Potter and, well, kiss him.
The thought of it made Draco shudder. From repulsion or desire, he didn't want to know.
He knew what he could do to relief the heat what was searing through him. All Draco had to do was look away from Potter, and all in the world would be fine and dandy.
But no, Potter had to be all over the room. When Draco would finally find the will to pull away his gaze from that Potter, it was as if Potter were magnetized to his gaze and would stay in his range of vision no matter how he turned his head away from him.
Of course, it could also mean that Draco was the one who was following Harry's movements, but he quickly threw that horrifyingly embarrassing thought away.
And then, Draco thought of another plan.
He quickly leaned back in his chair, head bent, and closed his eyes tightly, blocking out everything in his vision.
It worked, and Draco was ecstatic. When he closed his eyes, no one could enter his vision, because when he did that, all he saw was black, black, black, and not Potter, Potter, Potter.
He grinned and congratulated himself on his victory in blocking Potter out from his line of vision.
Draco managed to clamp down his lips with his teeth just in time to stifle the frustrated yell that threatened to escape from his throat. Instead, what came out was a confused gargle, which only made his cough and feel more miserable.
Draco opened his eyes and met the sharp green gaze of the source of his living nightmare. For a second, he had hoped and prayed to all the Gods that he knew that when he opened his eyes, It wouldn't be Potter standing in front of him, with his tousled, wind-blown hair and piercing, emerald eyes, but then realized belatedly that it was impossible to pray to that many Gods in the one second he had given himself to do that, and thus was cursed with full sight of the Wonder Boy in his face.
Honestly, though, Draco was more than ecstatic. He was breathless with excitement, and only his Malfoy pride saved him from doing anything more embarrassing than that horrible gargle.
'Are you alright, Malfoy? You seem a little giddy there.'
Damn that Wonder Boy and his Wonderful Concern For The Underprivileged.
Not that I think of myself as 'underprivileged'! Honestly, I am the Heir to-
Draco blinked owlishly and realized that he was trying to explain himself to himself, which was rather daft, actually. So he stopped.
'Yes, I am fine, Potter.' Draco hesitated and sighed heavily, resigning himself to the fact that since he chose the side of Harry Potter, he jolly well be polite to him and stop thinking lucid thoughts about him. '…Thank you for your…concern.'
Draco was slightly pleased to see that Harry, when startled, made quite an adorable sight too.
'Uh… you're welcome, Malfoy. You sure you're alright? Do you need a drink or anything?'
Draco was sure that at this juncture, by all the traditions in the world, he was supposed to reject that offer and smile, saying that no, he was fine, and yes, he could go and leave his horrible presence.
Instead, Draco threw traditions and caution to the wind and raised an eyebrow at Potter, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips.
'Why, I'd love to, Potter.'
Since he was young, Draco always knew that the decisions that he made, were bloody brilliant.
So when he found himself pinning Harry Potter against the wall and thoroughly enjoying the searing heat that was troublesome before, but felt oh-so-good when Potter was hot and moaning beneath his hands, he congratulated himself on another decision well made.
His whole being was full of Potter, his vision, his nose, his mouth, his hands were filled with Potter, and all Draco could do was cling on to him and kiss, lick, suck at whatever bare skin he could get of Potter.
Never did he know that having Potter's tongue down his throat could feel so good.
But then, as usual, Potter had to come to his senses, give a startled shout and push Draco firmly away from him.
Never did Draco want to fight his Malfoy instincts to graciously step away and instead growl and push Potter back against the wall and ravish him some more.
In fact, Draco had all the intentions in the world to do just that, until he saw the deep green streak of fear in Potter's eyes.
Taking a deep breath and counting to ten in an attempt to calm his raging libido, he tried to push away the thought of the fear in Potter's eyes that paralysed his limbs.
Potter, Harry Potter was afraid of Draco Malfoy, and Draco knew why.
Because he was a prat for forcing himself on Potter.
Biting his tongue to keep himself from breaking down into a puddle of self-loathing, he leaned against the wall opposite the one Potter was still leaning against, looking at Draco as if he were the Dark Lord himself.
Draco sneered and gave in to his desire to hide his face in his hands, since he couldn't very well dig a hole six-feet deep and hide in there even if he could.
The Dark Lord… Draco did feel like he were the Dark Lord then. Oh, he wasn't sorry for kissing Potter, that had felt too good to be anything foul. But the fear in Potter's eyes threatened to befoul the pleasant memory kissing him had created, and Draco hated the fact that something that felt so good, and so real to him, was going to be tainted.
Draco didn't want that, but he also realized that this time, it wasn't up to him to decide the outcome.
He looked up at Potter and watched the other man closely. It was as if Harry's eyes were an emotional rollercoaster; Fear, excitement, Anger, lust, Disgust, want.
When Draco reached forward and tugged on Potter's red and gold Gryffindor tie, and Potter stumbled into his arms, Draco could not help but circle his arms around the other man and bury his nose into the scent of Potter.
'Did you know,' he whispered, wondering when his voice had gotten so hoarse, 'that you can never pull a person to you by the tie, unless they want to move?'
Suddenly, Potter's shoulders started shaking.
Oh no… now you've made him cry. Great job, Malfoy-
Potter was laughing.
Guffaws of laughter, to be exact, gripping onto Draco's robes, trying in vain to stifle the laughter that bubbled out of his throat by burying his face into Draco's shoulder.
'Potter,' Draco asked with a certain amount of wariness, 'have you gone hysterical with fear?'
Potter looked up from his shoulder and at that moment, he took Draco's breath away.
His hair was messy from Draco's fingers that ran through it just moments ago in the heat of passion, and his lips were swollen red with Draco's kisses, glasses askew on his face above bright green eyes, and angry red marks scattered across his neck.
To Draco, Harry never looked more beautiful.
'I'm sorry… I was just imaging you trying to…' Potter broke into fits of giggles again, and Draco clucked his tongue impatiently.
'What? What's so funny?' He demanded, frowning slightly with confusion.
'Sorry, sorry. I was just imagining you trying to pull me to you by my tie, and me not moving at all. Imagine that! Come on, Malfoy. Admit it, its funny.'
Draco did, and bit back his grin of amusement before he broke out into laughter. Instead, he raised and eyebrow and tried to looks as unimpressed as possible.
'Ha Ha, Potter. Very funny.'
'But it is!' Potter insisted, cocking his head to the side and glaring at Draco for being unresponsive.
Adorable. Bloody Adorable.
He let Potter laugh awhile longer, gazing appreciatively at the sight of Harry laughing in his presence and having his arms warms and snug around Harry's waist.
He leaned in and pressed his lips against Potter, cutting him off in mid-laugh.
It was sweet, tender, painful. Draco felt his heart clench and watched with silent awe as Potter sighed in his arms and his eyes slid close.
What have I done? What have I done to deserve this?
Draco pulled away and watched silently as Potter opened his eyes, gaze unfocused.
And when they did, they focused straight at Draco.
'Why?' Potter breathed as he wrapped his arms around Draco's neck. The searing heat he had felt before was back as Potter nudged Draco back and Draco felt his back press against the wall. He tilted his head back and groaned in pleasure as Potter pressed himself against his and his body became aflame with heat.
'What why?' Draco managed to bite out as Potter ran his tongue over the shell of his ear, making him shudder with pleasure.
'Why did you kiss me?'
Draco swallowed dryly as Potter nipped his earlobe, that spot behind his ear, his neck, his chin, his lower lip…
'Because I wanted to.' Draco ran his hands down Potter's waist and slipped them under his shirt.
He heard Potter gasp softly at the contact and watched as Potter met his gaze, eyes smouldering green with desire. For Draco.
'Oh.' Potter whispered.
Draco smiled to himself as Potter leaned into kiss Draco once more, hands roaming restlessly across his body.
'Mine.' Draco growled as he ran his tongue hotly against Potter's lips.
All Potter did was grin and proceeded to let himself be ravished by Draco, never responding to Draco's claim.
That insufferable Prat.
A/N: If there are any grammatical or spelling mistakes, please do overlook them. It was throughly un-betaed. I hope it made sense to you, and had as much fun reading it as i had writing it at 12am! Thanks for reading!