It'd been happening for a while, and Harry loathed Draco for it.

Not that he needed another reason to loathe Draco, the list seemed to be constantly building upon itself… but this: this was number one of the list, the icing on the cake, the mountain of all molehills; and Harry knew it most definitely would be for a hell of a long time.

It'd begun during potions, last period, as most of the more eventful Harry-Draco arguments did begin. It was Thursday - near enough to the weekend for students to slack, not quite near enough for them to be happy about it - coming onto three o'clock, and the potions lab smelt deliriously of newts and asphodel and whatever other concoction Snape had asked them to add. It was hot, sickly hot, and Harry lay slumped over his desk, tapping his fingers on the bottom of the cauldron.

"Harry, sit up."

It was just Hermione, so Harry chose to ignore it, drumming his fingers slightly harder.

"Harry, how do you expect to pass your NEWTs when you keep acting like this?" she added, matter-of-factly, and Harry had to suppress an irritated groan as he pulled himself up slightly.

"Who says I want to pass my NEWTs?"

She laughed as though he were acting ridiculous, and thrust something into his hands. "There, wormwood, add it."

Sighing, he did so, watched the potion poof slightly, and then slumped back down onto the desk.

"Harry, you're being ridiculous. And look - now you're encouraging Ron."

Harry turned his head just enough to the side to see Ron slumped over his own desk, a confused looking Neville trying to wake the redhead up.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Harry - up before Snape sees."

Harry ignored her.

"He's coming around."

He could tell she was lying.

"He'll see you any second now."

If that was true, Snape would've seen him already. The Professor had left the room to get something or the other, Harry had forgotten what. He was safe to sleep all he wanted.

"Yes, Potter, and who wants a hero who can't even pass potions class?"

Harry sat up for that, and sent a dark glare in Draco's direction.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

But the blonde didn't, instead he sauntered up to Harry, and put a flask of something on his desk. Harry eyed it carefully.

"What the hell is that?"

"A potion, Potter, what does it look like?"

Harry's glare toward him darkened. "I know it's a potion, I meant what potion."

As he said this, Draco pulled the lid off of the flask, and a grotesque whiff of something oozed out of it, assaulting Harry's nostrils. He immediately drew back.

"That's repulsive!"

Hermione, who'd previously been sitting glaring at Draco, moved backwards before she could catch the smell herself. From the way Harry had reacted, it didn't seem pleasant.

"I just thought you could do with a little pick-me-up, Potter."

"And what makes me think I'd drink anything you gave me?"

Draco smirked. "Good thing it works by smelling it then, isn't it?"

At this Harry leapt backward off his chair, eyes darting between the potion and Draco, his mind frantically searching for words.

"You… you… you complete and utter -"

"Complete and utter what, Potter?" the slow drawl of Snape said from the doorway, and Harry turned around to see his professor standing there. "Malfoy, to your seat. Potter, ten points from Gryffindor."

"What!? What for!?"

"For intention to insult another class member, want me to make it fifteen?"

He could hear Draco laughing from the other side of the classroom, and slowly sank back into his seat. Luckily, the blonde had taken the potion with him as he left, but being out of sight didn't make it out of mind. Harry's nostrils were still raw with the sickening smell it'd had, and the boy-who-lived began to wonder what, if any, effect would take place.

It wasn't until the next morning that he noticed anything out of the ordinary, and even then he didn't immediately link it to the potion.

He'd spent most of the evening, and even the early hours of the morning, doing the homework Hermione had told him he 'never should've left until the last minute', and then collapsed at two o'clock into a dreamless sleep. At four he woke up, went to the toilet, climbed back into bed, and fell back asleep. This time, his dream was quite memorable.

He'd been in the potions lab, again, although on his own this time, frantically adding ingredients to something - he wasn't exactly sure what - desperately wanting to cure something. At that point, the door had opened, to reveal one Draco Malfoy.

"You bastard," Harry had said, or something on those lines, as the blonde arrogantly walked toward him. He hadn't even realised people could walk arrogantly until Draco did, and even then he knew it was only a Malfoy who could.

"Hardly," Draco had drawled in reply. "I just gave you the greatest gift you could ever want."

Suddenly the two were mere inches apart, and Harry was frozen, and their lips were so fucking close and then…

"Why d'you look so frightened, Potter? Don't you want me?" he'd then leant just that tiny bit closer. "or is it because you want me?"

And then Harry had kissed him; partly because he could, but partly because of some other reason he couldn't quite justify. He'd run his hands through Draco's silvery tresses, the feel as soft as silk, and delved his tongue as deeply as he could allow, and then moved his hands lower, wrapping them around Draco's waist, pushing him up against - and then onto - the nearest desk.

"You're going to regret giving me that potion, Malfoy…"

And then Draco had laughed, his same cruel, cocky laugh, but lighter, and warmer, and Harry had kissed him again, and got down to pulling open his shirt buttons, and then -

"Potter, Malfoy, what on earth are you doing?"

It was Snape, he'd recognise that voice anywhere, but he kept kissing Draco because he needed to, and the boy was so warm, and it felt so good, and…

"Potter? Potter! What in hell are you doing here!? Potter!?"

Harry had sat up, suddenly, drenched in his own sweat, rapidly awake.


Harry had turned to the source of the voice, and saw Snape standing there, a confused expression on his face.


"What on earth are you doing?"

Harry, for the first time, glanced around at his surroundings. He was in the potions lab. He was in the potions lab, lying on the desk he'd been kissing Draco on in his dream.

He'd been kissing Draco in his dream. That was… too weird to fathom for the moment.

"Potter? Why are you in the potions lab?"

"I… I don't know, sir…"

Naturally, Ron had found this the most hilarious thing in the world, once he'd been told.

"Really, Ronald, it's not funny at all…" Hermione had said, trying to suppress giggles herself.

He hadn't told them about the dream. He couldn't see them finding a funny side to that.

"It's not funny, I've got a month's detention, and extra potions homework."

"Well what were you doing in the potions lab, anyway?"

Harry chose not to answer this.

At lunch, Harry headed straight to the library, not bothering to wait up for his friends. He had to look up his dream, and find out that dreaming about having sex with Malfoy was perfectly normal, because there had to be a good explanation for it. There just… had to be.

He hadn't counted on finding Draco there.

"Ah, Potter, without your little… clan, are we?"

Harry glared at him. "You're without yours."

He smiled. "They were boring me."

Of course they were, Harry thought to himself, his eyes narrowing further toward Draco. "Did you want something?"

"Just wondering something," Draco replied, his smile still eerily apparent. Harry watched him cautiously.

Abruptly, the blonde moved forward, and brushed his lips against Harry's neck.

Harry dove backwards, stumbling onto the floor as he did so, his eyes wide and cheeks rouge. For hell's sake, he did not need this now, his libido was already messed up as it was, and this… this…

"What the fuck?" was all the brunette managed to splutter up, still staring wide-eyed at the blonde.

Draco laughed, lightly, and licked his lips. "Judging by your reaction, the potion did well." His eyes stole a quick glance downward. "And, more precisely, judging by that."

Harry looked at where the blonde's eyes were, to see his very big problem. He was about to start panicking, when his mind suddenly clicked itself into place.

The potion did well. And then his ears echoed what dream Harry had said the night before: "You're going to regret giving me that potion, Malfoy…"

"Oh, shit…" Harry mumbled to himself.

"Ah, just cottoned on, it seems?"

He'd never glared darker at Draco before this. "You bast-"

"Now, now, wouldn't want to cause a fuss and alert the library to that, would you?"

It was true, but Harry didn't want to admit it.

"I will kill you, Malfoy, if it's the last thing I do."

Draco smirked. "I'm sure you'll try."

Harry had never realised how hard it was to sneak back to his dorm during the day before. He'd never needed to. His sneaking was usually left to the night, but today he'd crept up to his dorm room, before burying himself under the covers of his bed, his mind willing the problem to erase itself.

"I refuse to wank 'cause of Malfoy…" he muttered to himself. "… I refuse to wank over Malfoy, I refuse -"

"You refuse to do what to Malfoy?"

Perfect timing, as always, Ron.

Slowly, Harry peeked out from under the sheets. "Maim him?"

"… that's not what you said."

Harry sighed, dejected, and decided he had to explain the whole story. And, obviously, Ron had found this funnier than him accidentally sleep-walking into potions.

"Ron, not funny."

"You have to admit it is a little bit."

"Malfoy is making me spontaneously lust over him! It is NOT funny! Under ANY circumstances!"

And suddenly another wave hit him, and Harry buried himself under the covers as the image of a writhing Draco came to mind.

"Okay, okay, it's not funny," Ron said, calming himself. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

"Kill him?" Harry suggested.

"You'd get kicked out of Hogwarts."

"Oh, but it'd be worth it."

"True," Ron agreed. "But maybe you should counteract the potion first, and then worry about seeking revenge. Once you're over this… thing, we can have a little fun with Malfoy."

Harry smiled. "Sounds good."

He had no idea how hard it'd be.

That evening Harry and Ron had set into the library to find a cure, but memories swamped Harry, and he had to run out before a repeat of earlier took place.
The next morning, Harry had been eating breakfast, when he had to leave because Draco winked at him.
During Quidditch practice, the Slytherin team turned up on the grounds, and the mere thought that Draco was with them made Harry fall off his broom.

If anything, this was just getting worse.

In Madam Pomfrey's, whilst having his arm fixed (falling off your broom was a messy business), Ron forced Harry to tell Hermione everything.

"You're kidding me?"

He could tell in her voice alone she was trying not to laugh.

"Not funny, 'Mione."

"No, no, of course not." She was still giggling.

"Look, can you help me?"

"Well… yes, I'll have to look it up, but I can probably find something." she giggled again. "Just imagine -"

"Hermione. Library. Now."

"Right, yes." she scuttled off, quickly, Ron following after her, and Harry sighed. Sometimes he hated his best friends.

That night the dream returned. This time he managed to get Draco naked. He woke up shaking, his mind scarred.
The next morning, he was allowed out of the hospital wing, but wished he'd stayed when he saw Draco waiting in the corridor outside. Was the guy frickin' stalking him?

"Malfoy? What in hell are you doing here?"

And why was his stomach fluttering? Stupid stomach, stupid stomach, stupid stomach…

"I heard the brilliant boy who lived fell off his broom, and had to see if it was true myself. Apparently it is." He looked smug. Damn him and his smugness, and how beautiful he looked with that stupid snarl.

"Didn't you see me fall off first-hand?"

"Nope, I was late for practice, and apparently I picked the worst day to do so."

Wait. Hold on. Draco wasn't even there? Harry had fallen off his broom for nothing?

"I was also wondering how my potion was holding up?"

Harry glowered menacingly at him. "Oh, don't worry, Malfoy, it's working fine."

"You're still desperately lusting after me?"

Draco looked so unbelievably happy with himself.

"Like a fucking puppet."

"Really? That's odd," Draco commented, absentmindedly. "It's not a lust or love potion, it was just meant to make your nose grow longer…"

Harry's jaw dropped. Like, actually dropped, and his eyes grew wide.

"You… you're kidding… right?"

Draco smirked. "Yeah, okay, that's a lie. It was a lust potion. I just had to see that expression."

Harry's face remained dumbfounded.

"Yeah, that one."

Completely wound up, Harry took this opportunity to storm off. Draco yelled something after him, but he didn't want to hear it, he was far too past caring.

That night he tried desperately not to sleep. No sleep, no dreams. It was as simple as that.

Unfortunately, he failed, as he began to doze at just gone half four, and Draco returned, this time - surprisingly - fully clothed.

They were in the Great Hall, the middle of breakfast - judging by the rashes of bacon, and slices of toast, and piles of eggs and sausages and black pudding laden on the table - when a flock of owls had flown over their heads. A single piece of paper fluttered its way down to Harry's plate, and the brunette glanced down to read the words 'stairwell. Now. Love you'. He'd looked up to see Draco standing up, smirking that horribly arrogant smirk toward Harry as always.

Hermione was at his side, asking what the paper said, but Harry ignored her, and stood, moving out of the hall.

He entered the entrance hall, and moved straight toward the staircase, where Draco stood. It was the middle of breakfast. Everyone was inside eating. They didn't have to hide themselves as they stole a kiss.

"I couldn't wait…"

"…I know…"

It was the first dream he'd had that wasn't erotic; it was sweet, and romantic, and sort of nice, somewhat domestic, a thought that haunted Harry far more than any of his other dreams had done.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he'd felt kind of… peaceful. For the first time in a few nights, he'd rested pleasantly. He'd slept through the night and hadn't woken up in cold sweat.

He was almost… adjusting to these new… feelings. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but for now it wasn't so bad. It felt slightly more manageable. His mood only deflated when Hermione announced what she found in the school library.

"It's incurable," she told him, slowly. "There isn't any potion to get rid of it, but it should go away by itself."

"How long will that take?" Harry demanded.

"I… I don't know. It doesn't say."

Harry collapsed into a heap on the floor. It was just border lining insane now.

Just when he thought he was getting more at ease with it all, Ron asked Harry how to hold his wand for some incantation, and the crudest of thoughts had rushed through the brunette's head.

Needless to say, he was not amused.

After having some thorough thinking time during History of Magic (not listening to Professor Binns seemed the perfect time to ponder his predicament), Harry decided that he needed to talk to Draco.

It wasn't something he wanted to do, and he wasn't exactly sure he'd be able to do it without reaching out to kiss the damn boy, but he had to at least try. He needed to know when the potion would wear off, and if there was anything he could do to… dilute it until then.

Naturally, after class, Harry had found Draco with a flock of Slytherins around him, but with a few words he managed to pull the blonde away.

"Yes?" Draco said, once they'd found an empty classroom to talk in.

"This potion is really, really, really beginning to get irritating, and you will tell me now when it'll wear off, or I swear I'll beat the crap out of you? I would use a spell to kill you, but apparently my mind won't allow me to even think about wands at the moment," he cringed automatically, "and so beating you to a pulp will just have to do."

Draco stared at him, his eyes slightly wide, his face confused.


"Yes, Malfoy, potion. The frickin' potion that is making me currently want to jump you, that potion!"

"Errr… Potter, the potion should've worn off last night."






"Don't shout in my ear, you twat, but the potion will have worn off last night. You're free from it."

"But… I… are you sure?"

"Quite," Draco replied. "I don't want a commoner like you lusting after me forever, thank you. It'd just get embarrassing."

"But… why do I still want you…?"

Draco smirked. "Couldn't be my devilishly good looks?"

"Hardly," Harry retorted. "Look - you're not kidding me, right? This isn't some sick joke? The potion wore off last night?"

"The potion wore off last night."

"No lies?"

"Oh, get over it, Potter. I'm not lying and you've decided you love me, it's not exactly uncommon."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Make me."

And so he did.

He wasn't sure exactly what compelled him to do it, really. Whether it was the pheromones, or the dreams, or how close they were to each other, it didn't really seem to matter. Suddenly Harry had leant forward, and his lips were on Draco's, and their tongues were entwined and y'know what? He liked it. He loved it. He loved the taste and feel and warmth and the fact that Draco was kissing him back.

Draco Malfoy was kissing him back.

He pulled off, and they gasped for air, and then Draco asked - in that rich, cocky tone of his, "Really like me that much, Potter?"

And so Harry kissed him again.

That night he didn't dream of anything in particular, but when he woke up, Draco was there.

"Way to take up all the frickin' bed, Malfoy…"

"We're in a closet, Potter."

"Oh. Well d'you have to take up all of that?"

"You're more accustomed to sleeping in cupboards."

"That's a low blow, Malfoy."

"I know," Draco replied, with a smirk. "D'you want to know what's even lower?"

"…I'm not sure, do I?"

Draco decided to tell him anyway. "The potion doesn't wear off until next Tuesday."





"I… I just…I don't know whether to believe you or not."

Draco laughed. "Mull it over whilst I work on getting your trousers off."