Author's Note: Good Lord, if I knew getting reviews was as easy as promising smex I would've done it a long time ago. Deep down, you know you only read these for the smut, right? (I'm kidding, I'm kidding)

Very well. This one-shot has now become a two-shot, with a proper chapter because the idea of writing a stand-alone sex scene sort of makes me feel a bit strange.

Edit: There's been some confusion with the ending concerning Ron, so I've made it a bit more obvious. It clearly stated 'Harry's bed', but anyway...Thanks for letting me know it was unclear, I guess. Thanks for the reviews!

Ron and Hermione gave Harry's cat a wary glance as they sat down next to him on the sofa. 'Dragon' as he'd named it, was true to his namesake, keeping guard over his Harry and being very disagreeable if anyone else handled him the wrong way. Which changed daily, apparently, judging by the numerous scratches on Ron, acquired when he'd put a hand on Harry's shoulder, leaning over him to ask Hermione for help with a Potions assignment.

Harry, to their disbelief, talked to the cat and pleaded with it in an attempt to get it to leave his long-suffering friends alone. Several weeks passed, and Dragon became infamous for accompanying Harry to meals and sometimes classes. On the other side of the spectrum, there were rumours floating around the school that Harry's possessed cat had beaten Draco Malfoy in a fight and that was why he didn't turn up at mealtimes; because Dragon was there.

One night, after Hermione had been hissed at for smiling a hello at Harry, he had taken the cat and marched it upstairs, clamped firmly in his arms. He had then proceeded to remain upstairs with the cat for over an hour, where the occasional thud and curse was heard. No one was brave enough to check on him, but when he came back downstairs, sweaty and slightly scratched, the cat followed meekly, curled up on the sofa next to Hermione, and fell asleep.

"Harry? How...? Wha-?" Hermione was speechless, for once.

"Oh, well. I have an affinity for animals, and Dragon here's always been very receptive to me." Harry had replied, grinning.

Later that night, students filed into the Great Hall for dinner, and as was the norm for dinner conversation, particularly at the Gryffindor table, rumours flew once more about why Draco was once again not present. It was then, as Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table and back to the cat sitting on Harry's lap stealing food off his plate, that the cogs in her ever-intelligent brain started turning.

Draco. Blonde hair, grey eyes, smirk. Dragon. Grey fur, yellow eyes, smirk. Oh, Harry, couldn't you have chosen a better name?

More gleeful than curious – she had, of course, been the one to first notice Harry's obsession with the pale Slytherin – she confronted Harry in the Common Room after dinner. Harry winced, and 'Dragon', tail swishing angrily, had rose up on hind legs, batted her in the face with a paw – claws sheathed, thankfully – and had promptly sat down again in a huff.

When Ron came over to join them in conversation, Dragon had curled up in Harry's lap, making impatient chirping noises (1) until the Common Room was at last abandoned. Hermione watched as the cat stretched into the form of Draco Malfoy, calmly and silently waiting until Draco's threats had stopped flowing. She raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of him and he flushed and sat back down, muttering to himself. She shrugged, explained how she'd found out, simple as that. And then, she went to bed, with a warning to Draco that should he hurt Harry, she would Transfigure him, permanently, into a pure white ferret.

"Oh, and Harry, do be careful about telling Ron, won't you?"

Harry and Draco watched her go upstairs with twin expressions of disbelief. Draco quickly shifted back to a cat as footsteps approached, and Ron's head popped out from the staircase. "Coming to bed Harry?"

"Uh, I think I might go for a walk, actually."

"Alright. Be careful and all that." Ron nodded to him, vanishing once again.

"A walk, hm?" Draco's voice whispered into his ear.

"I thought we might take a look at a certain room you hid in to fix that cupboard." Harry winked. Placing a Disillusionment charm on the two of them, thanking the genius who invented it, he snuck out with his boyfriend.

Almost half an hour later, due to a near run-in with Filch on the sixth floor and McGonagall on the fifth, Harry found himself rather lacking in clothes, save for his boxers, pressed up against a wall in the Room of Requirement. The room was richly covered in reds and golds, and kept flickering to green and black.

He pushed away from his equally near-naked lover and glared. "Will you stop trying to change the colours?"

"But red and gold are Gryffindor colours," Draco whined, "they're not nearly evil enough to set the mood."


"Sinful. Erotic. Sensual." The word rolled off his tongue even as it flicked out to run along Harry's ear. He shivered, and the room shifted with his compromise, decorated in rich creams, muted gold, and a deep forest green.

Draco frowned, the cream became black, and Harry gave up, the last vestige of house pride flying out the door with his resolve as his boxers were impatiently tugged down and a warm mouth sought his erection out. He let out a gasping whine as he was enveloped completely, throwing his head back hard enough to bang it on the wall behind him. Slender, pale hands gripped his waist firmly, as a blond head moved back and forth, Draco's fringe brushing against his thighs.

"Can't...stand." He managed to splutter, and he panted slightly as Draco stood. Giving him no time to react, Harry tackled him into the bed. After falling into the springy mattress and pinning the slender male underneath him, he ground his hips experimentally. At the same time, his lips sought out a pale neck, and Draco all but screamed.

"You've...never done that befo-uhhhng..." Draco said breathlessly, eloquently ending his sentence with something incoherent. He shot upright, pushing Harry off and climbing on top of him.

"No fair, Draco, you're always on top." Came the protest, and Draco found himself underneath once more. This battle went on for some time, each of them trying to make the other give in. It was only when Harry managed to pin Draco down again and tease him with feather-light touches to his erection that Draco flung his hands up in the air, hauled Harry up for a breathtaking kiss, and glared, clearly put off but too aroused to care about his reigning dominance.

Harry smiled, then, a sweet sort of grin which radiated pure delight and Draco lost some of his grouchiness. He lay still when the first finger was added, started wincing at the second, and come the third, he was very much beginning to question his sanity. It was only when he realised Harry had done this for him the previous times they'd had sex that his resolve strengthened, and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding shakily.

The resolve wavered again when Harry tentatively pushed forward slightly with something much bigger than a finger, and he glared at nothing in particular.

"Well now you know how I felt." Came a whisper above him, "It gets better. It always does."

Draco blinked, feeling guilty and wonderful at the same time, and when Harry had finally gone all the way in he almost cried with relief. Harry pulled out, causing Draco to yelp in surprise in pain, but his angle changed and he hit something, ever so slightly, and in response the paler of the two began twisting around impatiently, ignoring the pain in an attempt to get more – please God, more – of that sensation. In response, his dark-haired boyfriend gave a few more experimental thrusts, slowly and careful, until he managed to hit that spot dead center.

Draco let out a wail which startled Harry so much he froze, a horrified expression on his face which soon turned into a shy smile when he realised what had happened. This was mainly due to the face that Draco had immediately pulled Harry closer and wiggled anxiously. Harry began a slow pace, and Draco fell back into the pillow, gasping and panting at each thrust. Each noise from his blonde lover, coupled with the sensations currently revolving around his penis, made Harry respond with his own moans and breathlessness.

Harry, most unused to the feeling of being on top, awkwardly began moving again, and due to the strangeness and barrage of new sensations, came quite unexpectedly, letting out a sort of gasping shriek and shuddering beautifully on top of Draco's chest. He managed to pull himself back up and continue thrusting, though with less grace than he'd managed before.

This apparently did not bother Draco, who had been extremely turned on by Harry's orgasm. When one of the choppy thrusts pushed decidedly harder than before, right against that certain bundle of nerves, he lost whatever restraint he had and came with a loud 'uuuhhhrrnnnng' noise which Harry would later compare to a dying walrus, ruining the mood, and slumped back, pulling an equally exhausted Gryffindor boy on top of him.

Later, when they'd gotten cleaned up, they'd snuck back into the Gryffindor tower and were lying in Harry's bed. Draco woke to the sun streaming in through the windows. He turned his head to watch the boy snuggled up against him. Green eyes opened inquisitively with the movement and Draco smiled, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead. No words were spoken for a while.

It was only when they were interrupted from gazing into each other's eyes by a rustling and a 'WHAT THE FUCK?!' that they realised that they'd forgotten to charm the curtain around the bed to stay shut.

Looking into a pale, greenish Ron's face, Harry grinned sheepishly, but attempts to calm Ron down would take up a whole other eight chapters, an entirely different story altogether.