Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter. Unfortunately.

Draco's amazing scheme was in action. He looked himself over in the mirror and did a mental victory dance.

Soon, Harry, I'll have you.

His eyes gleamed strangely in the firelight, and he stretched languidly.

Step one, find a suitable disguise. Done.

He nodded approvingly to himself; no one, he was sure, would be able to recognise him for who he truly was. Turning around, he swept out of the Slytherin common room and hurried in the direction of the Gryffindor tower. With any luck, he'd have infiltrated the Golden Boy's defences within the week.

Draco would have cackled were it not both unbecoming and girlish.

Harry, blissfully unaware of what was about to befall him, sat up in bed groggily, rubbing his eyes. It was well past noon, but considering he'd stayed up all night reading over the Defence Against the Dark Arts book Hermione had gotten him for Christmas – a detailed guide for every useful spell, and still used by Aurors today – he figured he deserved a sleep-in.

Ron had gone home for the Christmas break, and Hermione was vacationing with her parents in Paris. Harry had declined the Weasleys' offer to have him along as well – both Ron and Hermione would return before the break ended, and since it was their last year of school he felt the need to spend as much time within Hogwart's comforting walls as possible. Plus, without Hermione around, he was able to fully abuse the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, and he had taken to exploring the castle's more unknown passages. There were few other students around, and with the Map he ran little risk of running into an irate Filch or grouchy Snape.

After a few days of exploring, however, Harry had tired of it, and as of last night decided he was more content reading various books in bed and the common room, along with occasional visits to Hagrid's hut.

He stretched, now, heading downstairs after getting dressed, and as the portrait swung open he could have swore he heard a soft thud. He turned his head and scanned the common room briefly, but could find nothing wrong. Putting it down to an owl flying past the window, he made his way downstairs for a late lunch.

Draco smirked evilly at nothing in particular. Praising his father's good foresight in teaching him a Disillusionment charm, he watched as Harry left the room, unaware he had just let in Draco, and he peered around. It would do no good to go upstairs to the boys' dormitories, he figured. Step two called for him to befriend Harry and gain his trust, so that his regular appearance and disappearance in the common room were not questioned.

He removed the disillusionment charm and settled onto a couch, and not long after, he heard the portrait door opening and closing. Having had to observe Harry for a few days to get a sense of routine – hell, having watched Harry for years - he knew the dark-haired boy preferred eating in the common room rather than the vastly empty Great Hall.

He got off the couch gracefully and stretched, in full view of Harry, taking in his look of absolute bewilderment with glee.

Harry blinked several times at the newcomer, a frown touching on the edges of his confusion, before setting his plate down at a nearby table.

"Um," he began tentatively. He wasn't quite sure what to say, but he continued, "Hey there."

Slowly, he made his way towards the cat by the couch, and reached out a hand, stopping half a metre away, just in case. The cat, he noticed, was sleek and well-groomed, with an elegant fluffy tail that was carried high away from its body. Its fur was mainly white, with several different shades of grey forming socks and thin stripes. Its eyes were a bright golden hue, and he waited patiently, having been around Crookshanks long enough to know that cats were not to be rushed.

Draco smirked with glee, although to Harry it looked more like the cat had curled its lip in a silent hiss. He hesitated, but kept his arm outstretched.

Draco stared at him for a moment before folding his ears back and retreating into a dark corner. It was crucial that Harry's hero complex kicked in. He waited under a low side table, swishing his tail angrily and making low growling noises. Harry sighed, walking away from Draco and going over to his plate. Picking up a piece of bacon, he dropped it in front of the table, far enough so that Draco would have to stick his head out, but close enough so that he didn't have to come out all the way.

Draco wrinkled his nose – did Harry really expect him to eat off the floor like some kind of...of...stray animal? He was obviously a very well-refined cat, not some scruffy mongrel to be fed table scraps. He meowed, then, a noise he'd had to practice quite a number of times before he got it just right. You see, Draco was now an unregistered Animagus, and had been very pleased to find himself an animal that was not creepy or crawly or ugly in any way.

Harry sighed, retrieving the ignored offering of food, and stood still for a moment, his feet visible to Draco. He experimentally swatted a bare foot with his paw and Harry jumped back before he registered the lack of claws. Kneeling down, he then got on his stomach to look under the table Draco had taken shelter under.

"Cmon, you," Harry muttered, "get out here so I can have a good look at you."

Draco waited patiently as Harry lay there, looking a complete fool. Finally, just as Harry sighed again and started to stand up, Draco poked his head out and touched his nose to Harry's.

Harry gave a start, rubbing his nose, and then managed to coax Draco out – or so he thought – until the cat was sitting in his lap.

"Well, you're certainly no stray," Harry mused, "but you can't be someone's pet either, otherwise you wouldn't be wandering around up here. For that matter, how'd you get in, huh?"

Draco made unintelligible catlike noises, and Harry reached behind his ear to pet him gently.

Oh holy shit, that feels nice. Draco purred, the sound making Harry chuckle pleasantly.

"I guess I'll keep you for now. I'll put posters up when the school term starts again, though." Harry did not have to say out loud that he was hoping to be able to keep the adorable creature for himself.

A soft whooshing noise announced the arrival of Harry's real pet, Hedwig. She cocked her head at the furry newcomer in Harry's lap – she was used to cats – and hooted, presumably a question, because Harry nodded at her.

"Well, Hedwig, looks like we've got ourselves a new friend," Harry told her seriously, "but I don't think he has a name. At least, I think it's a 'he'. I'll ask Hermione later."

He studied Draco for a moment, smiling as Draco reached out and hooked his claws into Harry's shirt.

"Hm. Well you have grey stripes and bright golden eyes. I know someone with golden hair and grey eyes, so how about I name you after him? Our little secret, 'cause I can't use his real name. Okay by you, Dragon?"

Draco stopped breathing, not that Harry noticed.


Later that night Draco watched Harry as he got ready for bed, stripping without shame in front of his new pet. Draco gaped at the show in front of him, but obviously couldn't reveal himself, much as he wanted to jump the Gryffindor right then and there.

After many years of rivalry, Draco had begun to take special interest in Harry, following and observing him to the point where Pansy asked him if he might as well stamp 'Stalker' on his forehead. Draco had insisted that he merely wanted to know as much as he could in order to 'prey on Potter's greatest weaknesses', until Pansy had, with a smirk on her face, retorted that knowing Harry's favourite fruit, colour, Quidditch team, and shampoo, of all things, were hardly grounds on which to trample Harry's spirit.

She had then, evilly whipped out a picture of Harryin the Quidditch pitch showers – exactly how she had gotten them, Draco would have begged to find out were he not, well, Draco. After the intial shock had faded, he had then immediately conjured a bucket of ice cold water which was dumped unceremoniously on his head.

Hearing Harry name a cat Dragon all seemed a little too coincidental to him. Besides which, exactly how many blonde-haired, grey-eyed people were there who could actually be associated with a dragon? Draco's personal sigil, the one that appeared on his wax seals and embroidered on a great many of his clothes, was, surprisingly enough, a dragon.

Excited, Draco hadn't noticed his tail swishing with anticipation until Harry called out his name. Or rather, the cat's name.

"Dragon, here boy!"

Draco leapt up onto the bed immediately, and Harry smiled, running a warm hand along Draco's back. "Wow, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you could understand me."

Draco purred quietly, stretching out and making himself quite at home on Harry's bed.

Harry laid back, sitting upright while he thumbed through the pages of Auror's Guide to Practical Spells, the Defence Against the Dark Arts book Hermione had bought for him. While he read through a particularly interesting passage on spells which could turn your enemies into assorted vegetables, he absently stroked his cat, tickling 'Dragon' under the chin and petting his back.

Upon seeing the spell Moody had used on Draco to turn him into a ferret, he heaved a great sigh, closing the book and tilting his head back to bang it on the headboard. Draco's eyes shot open and he hissed, startled. Upon seeing Harry looking despondent, Draco pushed down his irritation and instead laid back down, this time butting his way over so that his head was on Harry's chest.

"You know what, Dragon?" Harry murmured, resuming his petting. He could have said 'I rather think Millicent Bulstrode has lovely legs, and isn't Blaise Zabini just to die for?' and Draco probably would have agreed as long as Harry kept petting him.

This brought other images to mind as to what else Harry could be doing with his hand, and Draco cleverly disguised a cough as a very strange sneezing noise which had Harry snorting with amusement.

"Thanks for that," he told Dragon wryly, "but no, not quite." He sighed again, and his hand paused on Draco's back. Draco nipped him indignantly, and Harry glared before returning to his ministrations.

"How about I tell you about who you're named after, hm? I don't get the chance to talk about him often, you see. He doesn't like me very much, and Ron – you'll get to meet him later – hates his guts. Only Hermione knows I really like him, and that's only because she's the one who made me realise it."

Harry stopped talking abruptly and laughed for a moment. "And now here I am, telling a cat! Well, no harm in it, I guess, unless you start talking back."

Draco rolled his eyes, glad that Harry couldn't see his face. Has he been living under a rock all these years or has he not realised that almost anything is possible?

"You see, we spent heaps of years getting on each other's nerves. One day I got tired of it and decided that I'd start finding out about his life so that I could finally make him feel like crap for once. He's not one for emotion."

Draco's ears pricked up and he had to struggle not to slap him in the face and demand him to proclaim exactly who it was. Suspense annoyed him.

"Anyway, I don't know when it turned into an obsession but I realised that apart from the fact that he was really attractive, he had all these cute mannerisms and habits, and one day Hermione asked me, with a wicked grin, I might add, how I was supposed to pick on him when I couldn't stop watching him chew on the end of his quill every time he dipped it into ink."

Draco had to struggle even harder then, because it had all clicked into place and there was no mistaking who Harry had a crush on. This information overload, coupled with the very pleasant sensations he was feeling from Harry's hand, had apparently made his mind and body simultaneously explode, because one minute Harry was telling his cat that 'Malfoy would never go for me anyway', and the next he was falling out of the bed with a strangled yell of 'MALFOY, WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?!'

Draco, clad in a green silk shirt and black dress pants, thanked whatever higher forces were up there that he'd managed to stay clothed, at last for now. He then proceeded to haul Harry back up onto the bed and prodded him with a finger.

"What? Wh-huh?" Harry spluttered.

"If you want to keep your testicles, you'll keep petting me." Draco said demandingly, dragging Harry into a position where he could lie down with his head on the Gryffindor's chest again.


"The one and only," Draco purred. When all he got in response was a number of very odd, very pained noises, he sat up and stared at Harry, leaning over him slightly and making Harry blush.

Harry apparently couldn't decide whether to be shocked, angry or overjoyed, and as a result of all three fighting to the surface, all he could do was stare up at Draco. When the Slytherin made an impatient noise and lowered his mouth to Harry's, however, the latter sat up with a yelp and grabbed Draco by the shoulders, still blushing furiously.

"My, my, Harry, I hadn't realised you were the rough kind." Draco murmured.

Harry, if possible, turned an even brighter shade of red as all sorts of unbidden images floated through his mind, but he forced them down and shook Draco slightly.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Well," Draco began, taking on the tone of voice one would use to address a young child, "what happened here is, I became an Animagus, and then I snuck into the Gryffindor Common Room, and then you found me and took me to bed." The last sentence was full of unspoken promises, but Harry would have none of that.

"What kind of sick joke are you trying to pull?" he snapped warily.

"Joke?" Draco raised an elegant eyebrow and feigned innocence.


"No joke, Harry." Draco emphasised his name. "Now, are you going to let me go?"

"Are you going to hex me, or hit me, or...or..." At the Look Draco gave him, he began to release the taller boy's shoulders.

Immediately, Draco pounced, knocking Harry backwards onto the bed and ravishing his mouth thoroughly. When he finally pulled away, with much regret because Harry had responded almost immediately, Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Really?" the question was obvious.

"No, Potter, I only spent weeks learning to be an Animagus with no idea if you even liked me, just to sneak into your dormitory and attack you in a most undignified manner."

"Oh, in that case, get the hell out." Harry glared, folding his arms.

Draco blinked, stunned, and then started to protest that Harry obviously didn't recognise sarcasm, before Harry cut him off.

"That is, get out or get naked."

Draco barely had time to grin before Harry tackled him to the mattress and ripped off his clothes. Draco whined in protest over the manhandling of his expensive shirt until Harry whispered something about manhandling Draco in a way that made Draco wonder when Harry stopped being so innocent.

Later when Ron and Hermione returned from their holidays they asked Harry where he'd gotten the cat and why it seemed overly protective of him.

"He's my dragon in disguise," Harry replied, and for the life of them they couldn't figure out why he burst out laughing and why the cat seemed to smirk at them.

I'm probably going to get complaints about the lack of boy on boy goodness, aren't I?

If enough people complain, I'll add a second chapter just for Drarry smex.