"Who Needs Air" by Nymphy Fate.

Summary: Harry is the Slytherin Sex God, with a Death Eater for his father, while Draco's parents were killed by Voldemort when he was only one year old. When Harry gets disowned after refusing to take the Dark Mark at the end of the summer before sixth year, Draco finds him alone in the dungeons one night, upset, in late March. They've fought with each other for years, but neither will admit the lurking feelings that they have for one another, and from that day on, everything changes. They start meeting, and talking civilly to each other, and eventually something spurns from the "hate" they so desperately cling to. Completely AU. Oneshot. Contains Slytherin!Harry / Gryffindor!Draco / Top!Harry / Bottom!Draco / BoyWhoLived!Draco / SonOfADeathEater!Harry / Ravenclaw!Hermione. Read and review, please! :D Songfic.

Pairing: Harry/Draco, duh.

Rating: M / hard R / soft NC-17, for language, and sexual situations.

Warning: Slash. Meaning boy on boy action sequences. Don't like it? Leave, please/thanks. :D

Timing: AU Year 6.

A/N: Alright, so I've been toying with this idea for a while now, and have only just now gotten around to actually writing it all out, and sorting out all my thoughts. This is actually spurned from a dream I had in October, I think, where - for some strange reason or another - Draco had canon!Harry's stupid specs on, and so I wrote it down right away, and it's been in the back of my mind ever since. I'm usually not really this slow, but right now was just the right time to write it, I guess. :D

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any other characters mentioned in this story. Really I don't, so don't say I claimed I did. You'll get me in jail and by the time I'm out I'll have ordered someone to sue you instead. So there. Hah. Oh and p.s. I also don't own the song lyrics. The song is "Who Needs Air" by The Classic Crime, a band that is one of my personal favorites, but whom not a lot of people I know actually know who they are. They're from Seattle, WA, actually – look 'em up, yeah? Lol.


Harry Potter: Slytherin, Death Eater's son

Draco Malfoy: Gryffindor, part of the Golden Trio, Boy Who Lived

Ron Weasley: Gryffindor, part of the Golden Trio

Hermione Granger: Ravenclaw, doesn't really associate much with anyone else

Neville Longbottom: Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy's friend

Seamus Finnigan: Gryffindor, part of the Golden Trio

Professor Slughorn: Potions, Head of Slytherin House

Blaise Zabini: Slytherin, Harry Potter's best friend

Pansy Parkinson: Slytherin, Harry Potter's friend

James and Lily Potter: Death Eaters, Harry Potter's parents

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy: Deceased, were on the side of the Light, Draco Malfoy's parents

Severus Snape: Deceased, killed in the Department of Mysteries Draco's fifth year, Draco's godfather, and on the side of the Light

Bellatrix LeStrange: Death Eater, Sirius Black's cousin, the one who killed Severus Snape

Sirius Black: Death Eater, Remus Lupin's lover, and loyal to James Potter

Remus Lupin: Death Eater, Sirius Black's lover, and loyal to James Potter

Andromeda Tonks: Draco Malfoy's aunt, took him in after his parents were killed

Nymphadora Tonks: Draco Malfoy's cousin and friend, took him in after his parents were killed, and was like a sister to him

Prophecy: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the sixth month begins… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

"blah" -talking.

blah -thinking.

:blah: -parseltongue.

Italics in between breaks are lyrics.


I long to taste adventure like the nature of the sea,
Always moving, always hiding all the creatures from beneath.
Singing silent songs of sadness my heart waits for its chance,
To dance upon the ashes of my burned up little plans.



Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were notorious in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for throwing hexes at each other whenever at all possible. It was sort of like a ritual, an everyday meeting, passing glances where they sneered at each other in disgust.

What neither of them realized, though, was that there might have been more to their fights than they thought.

Something neither of them had ever really expected to happen to them.


And I stand alone before the night.
My nakedness is so clear in the glow of the moonlight.
Life is old but so short.
We are young we want more.


Part One: Confrontation.

It was a sunny day in late July when it happened, ironically enough.

Harry Potter stood outside the door to the den of his home in Godric's Hollow, sighed, and knocked.

"Enter," came the terse voice of his father, and Harry did as he was told, slipping into the room.

"You wanted to see me, Father?"

"Yes, I did." When Harry merely stood, James gestured to the chair in front of the desk he was sitting behind. "You may sit."

Harry gulped silently, suddenly nervous - James was using his 'nothing but business' voice. He nodded once, moving to the chair. However, he didn't dare speak yet. James Potter had a strict don't-speak-unless-spoken-to-first policy, something Harry would follow devotedly right now. He could get away with it at times, but this was not one of those moments.

James stared hard at his son. The boy looked so much like himself, yet had somehow managed to receive his mother's personality more than James' own, traits that annoyed him to no end. His hair was a mess, but stylishly so - it was obvious to see that he used some sort of product in it, although it wasn't crunchy or anything of the sort like one would think. Harry's eyes were a startling bright green, something his mother had gifted him with, beautiful and unhindered as he had been forced to obtain contact lenses at the age of seven. He stood now at one hundred eighty two centimeters, an impressive height for his age of merely fifteen. "You're to be turning sixteen in two days," James stated dryly, as he continued to silently scrutinize his son.

"Yes." Of course he knew that; he was well aware of his upcoming birthday. Where was James going with this? Harry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Do you have a point to all of this, Father? Harry thought in bewilderment.

"I think it is time you've started to follow in my footsteps, Harrison," he told his son simply, and Harry froze on the spot, knowing exactly what these 'footsteps' were that James was speaking of: the 'Family Business.'

Hah. Yeah right. 'Family Business' my arse, Harry thought wryly to himself, only just resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'Death Eater Brigade' is more like it…

Harry gulped audibly.

"Son, you are very much aware of my line of work-" Father, your job at the Ministry is 'work,' not being a fucking Death Eater for some psychotic freak whom you would like nothing more than to worship until the end of time, you moron "-and nothing would make me – and our Lord as well – more proud than to have you there by my side in the Final Battle with that little twit Malfoy," he spat the name, which was what ended up catching Harry's attention more than anything else. Malfoy, he was the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, seemingly the bane of Harry's existence, although he would never let on otherwise.

Because, truth was, Harry may have appeared that he hated the blond-haired, grey-eyed, speccy-

faced boy, what with all the hexes and insults the two of them threw at each other, but none of it was actually true. In all reality, Harry wanted nothing more than to be able to take Malfoy, push him up against the walls of Hogwarts, and ravish him senseless, vanish all of that innocent, naïve Gryffindorness out of him. And that really was what happened in most of Harry's dreams and fantasies.

It was sickening, and Harry hated it. Hated that someone could have such an effect on him without even trying, hated that he felt this way about someone when nothing had even ever happened between them.

Disgusting. It was like the blond was a disease or something.

Perhaps it was just great amounts of sexual tension building up? Hmm…

Harry realized with a jolt that his thoughts had been drifting away rapidly, and brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"…You will go through the next year studying and practicing the Dark Arts, and next year, when you are of age, you will take the Mark and join my side as a Death Eater. Now, I think that-"

"No." Harry's voice sounded strange to his own ears even as he said that one word, the one that said everything, but he couldn't seem to stop it from escaping his mouth.

"No?" James' voice came out as a snarl, a dangerous, murderous glint in his hazel eyes.

"No," Harry confirmed – wondering where this sudden bout of courage had come from – and strangely, he felt oddly liberated as he said this.

He must be mad.

Here he was, standing up to his father, James Potter, Voldemort's right hand man, but the only thing Harry could feel was that he was being set free, free from any more expectations that James would have for him. James was practically forcing a future onto him, planning it all out for him, not giving Harry any choice in the matter. But it was his life, and he didn't care, he was going to do with it what he liked. "I won't. Father, I can't, and I… I won't let you plan my future for me. Do with me what you will, but I refuse to let you rule my life and tell me how I should live it."

James went into a furious rampage, to say the least. He stood so suddenly that the chair he had previously been occupying nearly fell over in the process, as he loomed over the desk to glare madly at his son, who was breathing heavily in palpable fear, aware that something may just happen to him at any second. "You impertinent little brat. I knew I could never rely on you for anything, knew you would never be able to live up to standards, the future I had planned for you. You always were a bit too much like your mother, too stubborn and unwilling to listen to those wiser than you," he sneered in disgust, before straightening and taking a few breaths, the murderous look in his eyes now mixed with sudden glee. "Fine. But know that from this moment on you are no longer a part of my family." And with that said, James strode from the 

room, leaving Harry still sitting in the chair, looking ahead shell-shocked, as he neared hyperventilation, tears silently spilling from his eyes.

Oh, fuck.

What have I done?


I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?

I don't need air.


Part Two: Birthday.

Lily Potter, thank Merlin, had sympathized with her only son.

She had given him her maiden name.

Harry had moved out on his birthday. He was going off to live in Diagon Alley until school started on September first. Until then, he would buy his books for the fall and study, hiding out in his room in the Leaky Cauldron. Lily had long ago known that her son was different from his father, and had set up a separate account for him at Gringott's, should anything like this ever happen, and had supplied Harry with, at the very least, enough to last him through the next three years.

Harry sniffled pitifully as his teary eyes stared at his mother. Lily had a hand on the boy's shoulder, in an attempt to comfort her son, but to little to no avail. "You're sure that there's nothing else we can do? What about… what about Remy and Sirius?" he asked desperately, trying to keep the least bit of faith, although he was almost positive it was a lost cause.

Lily gazed at her son sadly. "Darling, you know that they would never… I am afraid that Remus would try to help, if not for the fact that he is too devoted to Sirius. It is a sad but true fact, Harry. I would send you to my sister's, but… well, I am sorry to say that your father has already… 'taken care' of them."

A look of utter horror crossed Harry's face. "Aunt Petunia…? Dudley? And… and Vernon? You… you're sure? They're… dead?" he whispered, eyes wide, and his mother nodded sadly.

"Yes. I am so sorry, my darling. This was never meant to happen, but… things happen, and sometimes there is just nothing we can do to prevent them either way. I will help in any way I can, but you must not breathe a word of this to anyone, Harrison, lest it get out. Your father… 

well, let's just say that the consequences of our actions could be fatal, my dear."

Harry nodded vigorously, tears falling faster down his tanned cheeks by the second. "Of course, Mother, never, never to anyone, I promise." Lily hugged her son tight to her, desperately attempting to comfort him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, as she had done when he was younger.

Lily kissed her son goodbye as the tears fell from her cheeks in the room Harry had rented. Lily had brought him there a bit earlier in the day, and by this time it was already past nine o'clock at night. She knew that this could very well be the last time they would ever be able to see each other. Harry was hugging her back just as fiercely, sobbing into his mother's shoulder.

When they finally parted, still shaking from the racking sobs that were making their way through their systems, Lily remembered something and handed Harry a small, gift-wrapped box. "Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you. Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry looked into her eyes momentarily, the ones so much like his own, before accepting the present and opening it. What was inside made his eyes widen marginally through his tears as he stared. "Mother, I…" he glanced back up to look at Lily, who shook her head, knowing a protest was coming.

"Harrison, no. I am glad that it is you who is receiving it. You aren't meant to have one until your next birthday, but… I am afraid we may not be allowed to see each other by that time. Just take it, my darling."

Harry gazed back down into the box, taking out the present there with shaking fingers. He brought it up to his eyesight, and… yup, sure enough there it was, the Evans family signet ring. Harry breathed deep before placing it securely on his right hand's third finger, feeling a small surge of magic go through him at the contact. "Thank you, Mother," he muttered quietly, still staring at his newly-acquired ring. "I will treat it well," he promised, determination clear in his voice.

"I know you will, sweetheart," Lily whispered, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. "I know you will…"

- - -

On the other side of England, Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Lived and all-around good guy, was sitting in front of the television (not paying attention in the least) in his living room of his house in Somerset. It was a semi-small house, something that was just roomy enough for him and his family, the Tonks'. He lived with his Aunt Andromeda and her husband Ted, along with their daughter and his cousin, Nymphadora.

He had a good, if quiet, life there in Somerset, and he loved his family dearly, even if they could be a bit noisy and annoying at times. It didn't bother him much though, but he got lonely at times, even after having grown up with a girl who treated him as though they were actually 

siblings rather than cousins. Although he had never known his parents, Lucius and Narcissa, he still missed them at times. Draco often wondered if it was worse not knowing them at all, or would it be worse if he had known them and then they had gotten killed. He wasn't quite sure, and the not knowing, he thought, made it that much worse.

Sure, he had things that his relatives had given him that his parents had left for him, but it wasn't the same. Nothing ever could, or would, be the same, not after losing not only one, but both of your parents.

"Oi! And you wonder why you have such horrible eyesight," a voice came from behind him, and he recognized it immediately as Nymphadora, his only slightly older cousin. He grinned in amusement at her jibe from his seat in the plush armchair. "Y'know, I dunno why Arthur ever insisted we get that thing in the first place, it just turned out bad for you anyways."

"Yeah, yeah, but still, they can't get any worse than they already are now that I've got these stupid specs for the rest of my goddamn life, eh?" Draco grinned, and rose from the chair, moving past her as he grabbed his wool sweater – the one with a large, capital 'D' on it, a present from Mrs. Weasley from the previous Christmas, something that, although he didn't much care for its design, loved the sentiment even still – pulled it over his head, and reached for the handle, opening the sliding glass door. "I'm going for a walk. I won't be home late, tell 'Dromeda, will you?" he told his cousin as he stepped through and closed the door behind him, not even giving her a chance to respond.

Nearly twenty minutes later Draco had arrived at his destination, the rocks at the edge of the Irish Sea, the large, blue body of water sparkling even as the sun continued to set and the night stars came out in the sky, taking its place. It was his favorite spot in the universe, someplace he went to think when he just wanted to escape from everything else, and he sat facing the sea on the rocks separating the water from land. It was a huge drop, perhaps eight meters to the surface of the water were he to ever fall by accident.

…Or to fall by purpose.

Of course, no one could really blame him, were he to do it, to actually fall into the great abyss below, end his life just to, for once, and be rid of the tragedy that was sure to befall him in no time. It wasn't like he had a terrible home life or any such thing, but more that his life sucked in general. His parents were dead and he had never even gotten the chance to know them, and all because of a stupid Dark wizard who was still after him, even fifteen years later. And now he was told that there was a prophecy, and one of them would have to kill the other – would you want to be him…? No, you wouldn't. Who would want such a life, where you are forced into being a murderer?

And so Draco sat on the rocks that late July summer evening, staring at the stars with his arms wrapped around his drawn-up legs as he contemplated his disgustingly dreary life and all that lay in it.


My addiction to danger like the rush of the sea,
Like a wave on the rocks the lessons crash down on me.
I don't need to prove the world to you only to myself.
So step back and look away as I dive into the swell.


Part Three: Chance Meeting.

Draco Malfoy walked the corridors of the dungeons of Hogwarts well after curfew one night in late March.

Harry Potter, on the other hand – also known as the Slytherin Prince or, to others, Slytherin Sex God – was walking around aimlessly, as he spent his time brooding his pretty little head off. So caught up in his own world where he could see everyone he hated dying slow, painful deaths, Potter didn't notice someone coming around the corner – also in his own musings – who slammed into the brunet and the two fell to the ground from the sudden contact and force of the impact. "Oi!" he groaned, then looked to see who he'd run into. "Malfoy," Potter sneered in distaste as he rolled his eyes, got up, and vainly brushed his clothes off.

Angry with not being able to pluck off a (imaginary) piece of lint, Potter, absolutely frustrated, slumped against the wall in defeat, silently wishing that Draco would just leave him the hell alone so that he could sulk in private. That didn't seem to be the case though, since Draco merely stood there, not exactly knowing what to do with this new development in the life of Harry Potter. "U-uhm… are you alright? What's wrong?" Draco asked softly, and Potter scoffed.

"Nothing is wrong, Malfoy, now leave." Potter pointed down the hall toward the exit. "Why the hell would you give a fuck anyway?!"

Draco stood his ground in front of his school rival as he ignored the question. "No, I don't think I will. I can get House points taken off of Slytherin for you being out so late. You shouldn't still be up, you know."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Hah. And since when have you ever cared about my well being, you stupid Gryffindor prat?" he sneered. "Besides, I could easily get points off of your House as well – you are, after all, out as well after hours." Potter stared him down with hard, green eyes.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is your problem? I was only trying to help, but I suppose that's too much for your tiny little mind to comprehend, hmm?" He, too, rolled his eyes. "Now tell me what the fuck your problem is."

Potter was silent for the next few minute and Draco gave up on him, turning to head back to Gryffindor Tower, but Harry's soft voice stopped him, talking to his hands and speaking matter-of-factly. "I'm not joining the Death Eaters." Draco looked back at him in shock, grey eyes questioning.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to become a Death Eater. You know, Voldemort and all? My parents wanted me to join, I was meant to start training just this past summer, right after my sixteenth birthday so that I could join when I turned seventeen – there's a whole entire year of 'training', or so that's what they call it – but I flat out refused." He looked up at Draco defiantly, green eyes just asking the blond to question his decisions. "I won't join, it's a lost cause if you ask me. It doesn't matter; you're going to win anyways." Potter grinned darkly. "Well I suppose getting rid of a psychotic snake-faced man is reason enough, but still, I won't do it."

Draco stayed silent. "Oh." Then he got an idea. "Wait, does that mean that you're on my side, then?"

Potter shook his head. "Not necessarily. I'm not on either side, I'm grey, and not about to bow down to anyone, no matter if I agree with their ideals or not, which, as far as the Dark Lord goes, I don't. My parents do, yes, but as much of carbon copies of our fathers you and I may seem to be, that does not automatically mean that we are them, or believe in their morals and obligations, now does it?"

"I suppose not, no."

Potter grinned briefly, and stood up only to lean against the stone wall of the corridor, looking down at his conjoined hands. "You know, not everything is black and white, Malfoy. Some things you can't exactly classify into one particular category."

Draco leaned with him, on the opposite wall, and stared forward at Potter, speaking softly. "So… what did your parents do when they found out you didn't want to join, then?"

Potter frowned. "Kicked me out. I am, as of July 31st, officially disowned. Great birthday present, hmm?" he smiled sarcastically and looked at Draco, who stared straight back at him as well.

"Well at least you're out of their clutches now, then, right?"

Potter eyed the boy skeptically. "I suppose so…" he said slowly, looking at the blond curiously.

"So… why, if all this happened all the way back in July, are you so upset about it now? I mean, that's an awfully long time that you've had to come to terms with it, isn't it?"

Potter shrugged, and frowned, pulling a piece of folded parchment from his jeans pocket, holding it out to Draco. "I've just gotten a letter from my mother – it's the first contact that I've had with her since the night of my birthday, and I think the whole situation has finally caught up with me – I've just realized how dangerous it is for both my mother and me to have contact with each other. I don't think you realize how dangerous it is – if my father ever finds out about it, it could 

possibly mean death for either one of us," he told the other boy grimly. "It's really just caught up with me how I'll never be able to speak to her again without the possibility of my father finding out. And also it's just dawned on me that no matter what I say or do from now on, no matter who I turn to, they won't believe that I'm not on one side or the other, that I won't turn on them or anything just because they can't classify me into a Light-supporter or a fucking Death Eater. It's frustrating, and that is why I am upset. Understand now?"

Draco was shocked silent by the other boy's speech, trying to move past the lump in his throat. "Yeah. I understand."

Potter stared at him for a few moments before shaking his head in utter disbelief. "Why are talking to me like this, anyway? I've gone out of my way for years to make your life hell - why start acting civilly now?"

Draco shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe because you don't deserve to be treated like you're the scum of the earth everywhere you go."

Potter's brows furrowed. "How do you figure?"

"Well, it's just… everyone deserves a second chance, don't they?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Naïve little Gryffindor…" he muttered. "But yes, I suppose we all should get second chances. The question is, why me?"

"Because. As hard as it may be to believe, you aren't as vile as everyone makes you out to be."

The brunet Slytherin raised an eyebrow in amusement at the ludicrous thought. "And how so?" he asked, smirking.

Draco gestured at him flippantly with one hand. "Well, just listen to yourself. We've been standing here for nearly five minutes already and you're not even so much as reached for your wand, not to mention attempted a hex on me. If I didn't know any better, Potter, I'd say you were losing your touch."

Potter rolled his eyes again, before looking away momentarily then back at Draco. "Hah. Me? Losing my touch? In your dreams, Scarhead."

"Ah, going back to insults now, are we?" Draco remarked, then thought of one himself. "Fine, if that's the way you want it, Parseltongue Boy, then that's how it'll be."

"Oh please, 'Parseltongue Boy'? That is hardly an insult, Pretty Boy, I happen to pride myself very much so on my being able to speak Parseltongue, thankyouverymuch," Potter replied haughtily.

Draco raised his chin smugly. "Why yes I am pretty, Potter, wasn't aware that you thought of me that way," he smirked.

Potter spluttered for a moment before getting his resolve back and glaring at the short Gryffindor. "Hah. As if. You'd be better looking without those atrocious glasses and the wrinkled clothes."

Draco just smirked, silver eyes gleaming in amusement as he took slow, predatory steps to the Slytherin boy. "You fantasize about me naked, Potter?"

Potter spluttered some more, reminding Draco of a fish out of water. "Wha-? N-no, that's-that's not what I meant," he stammered. "Of course not. Besides, why the hell would I want a speccy, skinny-arsed orphan Gryffindor?" he let out a nervous laugh. Draco was all the way up to him now, standing directly in front of him, trailing a finger on the bare of the Slytherin wearing only dark blue jeans and black T-shirt.

Draco continued trailing his finger on the skin. "Oh, I don't know, Harry…" he drew it out, intentionally using the boy's given name and Potter could only think that no one had made it sound so fucking sensual in all of his life, "why would you want speccy, skinny-arsed, little old me?" Draco mused, looking imploringly up into the sparkling, lust-filled eyes of the Slytherin, whose breathing hitched as Draco pressed flush against him. Draco knew exactly what he was doing to the boy, and damn did he like this little game they were playing…

"I-I dunno…" Potter stared down into the mercury eyes of the blond Gryffindor.

Draco backed off, pulling away from Potter fully, arms crossed and one slim finger tapping his chin in thought. "You know, you're right." He shrugged, "I dunno either. Let me know when you find out, will you? Cheerio!" And with that, he bounded off down the hall, grinning, and leaving a murderous, growling Slytherin in his wake, suffering from a raging hard on.

Oh. My. Merlin…

What the FUCK just happened here?! he thought incredulously, not even believing the previous events himself.

Well damn.


I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?


Part Four: Potions Classrooms.

Harry Potter glared at the blond Gryffindor in Professor Slughorn's Potions class. Malfoy was probably the best student in the class, which practically made up for the fact that he didn't exactly excel in the rest of his studies. Harry, however, was the exact opposite from Malfoy. Teachers of all departments pretty much hated him, no matter if he succeeded in the subject or not. Malfoy was lucky - at least adults liked him (although 'adored' was more the word Harry was bitterly using to describe the situation in his head) and didn't judge him because of who his parents were.

And right now Harry could do nothing but scowl miserably at the blond. Malfoy had been ignoring him for the past few days, ever since the incident in the hallway, and it was, for lack of a better word, pissing Harry off.

At the moment, Slughorn was merely lecturing about the potion they would be starting in the next class so it was fortunate for Harry, since, were he allowed access to a cauldron this particular day and asked to brew something, he'd most likely end up blowing something up in his frustration, not being able to concentrate properly, all due to Malfoy and his antics. Dear Merlin, he'd be just like that Longbottom kid, the one who was always hanging around Malfoy.

It was a disgusting notion, Harry thought.

Truth be told though, Malfoy, at the moment, was being a royal pain in the arse.

Honestly! How could he just pretend nothing had happened between him and Harry! It was ridiculous!

Harry had always been the Slytherin Sex God, had been given that title the end of third year when he'd been with just about half the people in Slytherin who were in his year and up. Well, those who Harry deemed worthy of his precious body, that is - not to mention healthy libido - and no one, NO ONE, had made him feel the way that Malfoy had - yes, pure and innocent little Gryffindor Malfoy, the skinny, speccy grey-eyed boy who had wounded Harry's pride briefly in First Year when the blond had declined Harry's offer of friendship. And now Harry wanted him more than ever, and Malfoy wouldn't even, as the Muggles say, 'give him the time of day.'

It was beyond infuriating.

Harry gave the blond another hard glower, even though Malfoy wasn't even looking in his direction. Harry was, for all intents and purposes, 'burning a hole through the back of Malfoy's head.'

Have you ever noticed how you can just tell when someone is staring at you? Well Draco sure could. He curiously turned around, only to be frightened to see Harry Potter glaring at him with narrowed, furious eyes for being ignored so much in the past few days - although, at the time, Draco had no idea that that was the reason for such shows of hatred.

Shocked, Draco slowly turned back around to return his attention to Slughorn.

This only served to make Potter's withering stare grow, however. He sat in his seat, anger 

rolling off of his very being in waves, as he waited impatiently for the class to end.

Eventually it did and students all around them quickly bustled out of the classroom and to their next period. As Draco was leaving, though, Potter yelled to stop him, standing next to the desk he'd previously been occupying, causing the Golden Trio - consisting of Draco, Ron, and Seamus - to stop in their tracks. "Malfoy!" Potter bellowed at him, and the blond turned and blinked owlishly at him behind those stupid glasses, and stared at the Slytherin, as did his two best friends.

Draco got the hint and motioned for his friends to go on ahead without him, which they did, albeit a bit reluctantly, throwing Potter death glares, which clearly meant immediate AK-ing was in order, should the Slytherin do any harm to their friend. Hey, an eye for an eye, right?

Once Ron and Seamus had left Potter and Draco to themselves the blond finally spoke. "Yes? What did you want?" Potter was standing there, arms crossed over his chest and looked mightily furious with him.

Potter tapped the fingers of one hand onto his opposite arm. "Why have you been avoiding me these past few days, Malfoy?" he growled.

"Excuse me?"

Potter stomped toward Draco, pointing a finger accusingly right in the shorter boy's face. "Oh don't play dumb with me, Malfoy, you and I both know that you've been ignoring me as of late, and I want to know why. WHY?!" he demanded.

Draco looked momentarily stunned but brushed it off quickly, settling with a defiant look instead. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Potter, none whatsoever."

"AARRGGHHHH!!" Harry screamed in frustration. "Yes, yes you do, you twat, WHY are you avoiding me?! You take different routes to your classes, run out of classrooms as fast you possibly can, you know, that stuff! Now tell me why!"

Draco gave him a façade of an innocent smile, hoping it would work. "Oh. That?" Potter just stared at him hard; Draco got a cheeky grin on his face. "You do realize, Potter, that you won't always be able to get everything you want?" Potter just kept staring at him, not responding to the comment, making Draco sigh, the smile falling from his lips. "Look, Potter, about the other night…" he trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say, as he relinquished the innocent act and looking down at his hands.

"Yes?" Potter gave the blond an expectant look.

Draco looked back up into those sparkling green eyes. "Look, it's not like I've ever done anything like that before. So I didn't really know what I was doing, exactly. Sorry." And with that, Draco turned and walked out the door of the classroom.

When he was gone, Potter slumped into the desk pitifully. "I'm not…"


Take me down to the river like a little child,
Take my hand and tell me it's okay to be wild.
I never knew the world until I saw through your eyes,
I never knew myself until I ripped off my disguise.


Part Five: Late Night Confrontations.

Another four days had passed the conversation in Slughorn's Potions classroom before Harry and Malfoy had another confrontation.

Harry couldn't sleep properly whatsoever, being a natural night owl, and was quite hungry, so consequently, he found himself walking to the kitchens of Hogwarts late that night.

He didn't, however, expect to find Draco Malfoy there, sticking his arse out as he searched the confines of the refrigerator for something to eat.

Harry grumbled miserably. He'd been expecting to be down there alone. "Bloody hell, Malfoy, what, is this going to be a weekly thing for us now, meeting in the middle of the night, or what?" he moaned, startling the blond, who perked up and stared at Harry with an orange in one hand and the start of what looked like sandwich fixings in the other. Harry couldn't help the jolt that went through his stomach at the word "us," or the way the blond could look gorgeous at any time of the day - pajamas or not - but let it go in the end.

Draco shrugged, placing the mayonnaise, meat, and cheese on the counter, next to his orange. "Hey, it wasn't me who was following you this time, not me," he said in all defense.

Harry rolled his eyes but walked over to the blond in the end anyways, leaning over and holding his head up with his hands, elbows on the counter. Draco had already gotten the bread and knife while heating up a small griddle on the counter next to Harry.

"So what are you doing down here anyway, then?" Harry asked, although that much should have been obvious to him already. He stared at Draco as the blond spread the mayonnaise onto the two slices of bread.

"Hungry, obviously. And yourself?" he asked, putting the meat and cheese on.

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I suffer from horrible insomnia, you see."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sounds serious."

Harry nodded. "Oh yes, terribly serious, I could probably die," the brunet said dramatically, and pretended like he was about to faint. He chanced a glance at Draco, seeing the small smile playing on his lips, then brought his hand back down from his forehead. "Not convincing?"

"No, not really."

"Damn," Harry swore, frowning.

Draco just shook his head in amusement and went back to finishing his sandwich. He went back to the refrigerator, taking out alfalfa sprouts, before closing it again. He continued to build the sandwich, flopping it onto the griddle to heat it for a moment until he took it out, the bread a rich, golden brown.

Harry eyed the sandwich speculatively. "Looks good," he commented, and felt his stomach rumble. The blond chuckled, hearing Harry's stomach as well.

"Want some?" Draco asked, smiling warmly, before cutting it in two.

Harry nodded quickly. "Sure."

Draco peeled the orange quickly, placing the slices in a bowl before the two of them sat on the stools at the counter and began to eat in silence until, moments later one finally spoke.

"So… how're your classes going so far, then?" Draco asked politely.

Harry shrugged. "Alright, I guess. As good as can be, really… It doesn't help that all professors hate me though," he answered, staring down at his half-eaten sandwich. He looked up, however, with what Draco next told him.

"They'll get over it, I like to think. They all adore me, just because I'm supposed to be their fucking savior, even though I've never done anything to prove that I won't end up dying when I have to fight Voldemort, in the long run." Draco looked up at Harry sitting next to him, at his side. "I don't want to be their savior," the blond confessed.

"Their little fucking Golden Boy?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I don't want it," he repeated.

Harry said nothing, somehow knowing what the blond needed at the time, and took a chance, lifting his hand to softly squeeze Draco's own for a moment. Just as Harry had hoped, Draco smiled at that a bit, grateful for the contact. Harry let go after a moment, and the two boys went back to eating.

As they continued to eat their sandwiches, it seemed Harry could think of nothing but the blond next to him. He wanted to stop these feelings, ones he'd never wanted in the first place - hell, the week before in the hallway, he'd had to go take a cold shower immediately and wank 

himself, shouting out Draco's name (thankfully, he had remembered to take precaution, and had put up a silencing charm so that none of his friends - Crabbe, Goyle, or Blaise - would have to hear him getting off, especially due to the Boy Who Lived; none of them would have ever let it down, being the annoyances they were) and now just holding the blond's hand could get him aroused.


Harry sighed loudly to himself, and Draco looked up at him sharply. "Something the matter?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no, nothing wrong. I'm fine." He tried to smile reassuringly, but it didn't fool Draco in the least.

"Something is wrong," Draco pressed on. "Tell me?" He looked at Harry expectantly with a hard stare. Harry stared back, breaking down as he stared into those molten silver eyes.

"I, uhm… I-I should go." Harry stood up, making to leave, but Draco came stumbling into his view.

"Hey, where're you going? We were just starting to act like regular, normal, civil human beings for once." Harry fought down the smile that threatened to break out on his face at the blond's light joke. "You can't leave now…" Draco insisted, and Harry looked at him challengingly.

"Oh yeah? Give me one. reason. why."

Draco bit his bottom lip for a moment, got an idea - a genius idea, if he did say so himself - leaned up while placing a hand on the back of the boy's head, and crashed his lips to the brunet's in front of him.

Time seemed to freeze as their lips touched, a soft feather dusting of skin on skin contact, a strange sensation making its way through their bodies as they stayed in their same positions, merely enjoying the intimate embrace. Draco's hand slid down slowly to instead grasp the back of Harry's neck as they simultaneously allowed their eyes to fall shut as more pressure was applied to their lips. It soon escalated into a full-on snogging session as Harry growled deep in his chest and pressed the other boy hard back against the counter edge, swiping his tongue on the blond's lips. The two let their tongues duel, Harry winning out for dominance in the end.

Finally, moments later, after some heavy kissing, they pulled away from each other, Harry speaking breathily. "I think that's a good enough reason…"

Draco was staring up at Harry, into the lust-filled green eyes of the Sixth Year, while he was sure his own showed just how frightened he really was at the moment, even though it was he who had started the whole thing in the first place.

"Uhm…" Draco started, backing away from Harry before bolting from the room.

And for the third time in one week Harry was left alone after a confrontation with Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Lived.

The brunet pursed his lips in confusion.


I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you've got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?


Part Six: Friends, Libraries, Word Association, and Intimate Conversations.

Harry lay on the couch in his dorm, staring into nothingness, gaze getting lost in the fire. Hearing a knock on the door to his prefect rooms, he called for the visitor to enter.

Blaise Zabini, one of his best friends, next to Pansy Parkinson, as he had known them both since he was born, came into his room, taking a seat on the plush chair adjacent to the sofa Harry was currently lounging on. "You alright, Har?"

Harry nodded, deep concentration sketched into his face. "Blaise, have you ever wanted something so bad, but you just didn't know how to get it?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno, like… someone."

"Ohhh… No, not really - everyone loves me, I don't even have to really try." His brow furrowed. "And you shouldn't have to either, you're even more shag-worthy than I am - and that's saying something - who wouldn't want you?! You could have anyone you've ever wanted!"

"Apparently not…" Harry near-whispered, staring into the fire still.

"Why, who is it?" Blaise asked eagerly.

"You wouldn't want to know even if I told you. Leave it alone, alright, I'm fine." It would have been better if Harry had made a more convincing argument, however.

"Harry. I've known you my entire life practically, and I know that tone of voice, you're not fine, so spill, would you. Get over yourself, and just tell me, or else I shall be forced to bug you the rest of the night until you break, and you won't ever get any sleep, and then tomorrow you'll look like shit, and…" he kept going, but Harry ignored him.

Harry stared at his friend in bemusement as he continued on, to which he didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. He rolled his eyes as he sighed, and surrendered. "Fine. It's Malfoy, alright, you happy now?" he sulked, crossing his arms across his flat, toned chest as he averted his eyes to the ceiling.

Blaise rolled his eyebrows, and nodded his head once. "Your problem is Malfoy? Seriously?"

Harry sat up. "Yes, seriously," he sighed. "I don't know what to do, I… I think I like him, you know, really, really like him. Like that. What am I supposed to do, Blaise?!" he yelled, exasperated.

"Maybe you should just talk to him. It's better than sitting on your arse, brooding. Get out of here, you idiot, and go tell him how you feel."

"Tell him…" Harry repeated softly, getting o of the sofa and walking out the door of his quarters, not bothering to shut the door. "Yeah, I'll go tell him…"

Blaise stayed in the chair, resting his feet on the coffee table there. "Ah, les joies d'amour…"

"Blaise?" Pansy asked as she came into the room, seeing her friend sitting there. "Where's Harry?"

"Two words, Pansy, love: Boy Problems. He's just run off to tell Boy Wonder he's in love with him."

"Oui, les joies d'amour…" Pansy conceded, settling into Blaise's lap. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wish him luck, then," she said with a smile, to which Blaise happily returned.

"Yes. Yes, we definitely will."


"Malfoy." It came as a whisper in Draco's ear as he was sitting in a chair in the library that night, while trying to study.

When he turned his head, he saw Harry sliding into the chair next to him.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" Draco asked, grumbling in annoyance as he went back to his Charms essay. "People can see, you know."

"I don't care about them," Harry reassured the blond. "I do, however, care about why you all of a sudden ran away from me last night." Draco looked up at him in annoyance, and Harry fixed him with a hard stare. "Tell me," he scolded flatly.

Draco held his stare. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Draco answered childishly, fixing Harry with a stare to rival his own.

"Draco, you're being ridiculous, just tell me what the hell is wrong with you!"

"Oh am I?" Draco retorted, ignoring the other comment. "And just what, per se, am I being so 'ridiculous' about?"

"Uhm, how about the fact that you keep running from me every time we get close! It's insane, and I want to know why you keep avoiding me!"

Draco slammed the book shut. "Fine. You want to know why I'm ignoring you?" Harry nodded once his acquiesce. "It's because I'm scared of not being able to see you alive anymore," he said softly, yet firmly, glaring all the while.

Harry stayed silent for a few moments, heart pounding in his chest. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, bewildered.

Draco let out a dry laugh. "I'm talking about how they are going to kill you, Potter. That is why I don't let anyone get too close to me, alright?!" he shouted, then abruptly stood, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, grabbed his things from the table and practically sprinted from the library.

"Draco! Draco, wait!" Harry yelled, getting up from his seat at the table as well, and ran after the blond Gryffindor. Students looked up from their places at various tables and started at the retreating forms of the two… rivals?

"Draco, stop!" Harry finally caught up with the blond, placing a hand on the skin of the boy, who spun around on contact, obviously furious, and wretched his arm away from the Slytherin.

"What!" he bellowed, causing the librarian, Madam Pince, to attempt to shush the two, to which they ignored her completely, but stepped out into the hallway for privacy anyway. "What do you WANT?!"

"I want to know why you are so keen on insisting that I am going to die just from being with you!"

Draco laughed disbelievingly. "Together?!" he questioned incredulously. "We aren't, nor have we ever been 'together,' Potter, and it would be in your best interest to remember that, you dolt!"

Harry scoffed. "Oh please, Draco, you can't tell me you've never thought of me that way."

Draco stared up into the green eyes, as if daring the dark-haired boy to question him. "Well I am telling you that. I have never thought of you like that, Potter." Draco's hands were at his sides, balled into fists in an attempt to contain his fury.

Harry rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, I really don't understand you, Draco." He scowled.

"Stop! Just stop!" Draco fumed.

"Stop what?!" Harry demanded.

"Stop calling me by my name!"


"Because! You don't know me, Potter, and I only associate with people who actually know me for who I am - my friends know me, not you - people who don't know me as just their Golden Boy, not Speccy Face, not the bloody fucking Boy Who LIVED!" Draco seethed, as if that all made perfect sense and that Harry understood and would just leave him alone for the rest of eternity so that Draco could brood all by his lonesome.

"Then let me get to know you," Harry said calmly, as if it were the easiest solution in the world.

And maybe it was.

Draco did a double take. "What?" His anger with Harry was slowly but surely dissipating.

"If you let me get to know you, then I can call you by your first name. Deal?"

Draco eyed him speculatively. "And what do I get out of it?"

"The satisfaction that someone wants to get to know the real you," Harry answered calmly.

Draco continued to survey the Slytherin for a moment, wondering idly if it was a trap, but nodded once in agreement anyway. "Fine. Did you want to go somewhere, then?"

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked.

Draco thought about it for a moment. The lake, for a walk around it? No, too many people did that for supposedly 'romantic' dates. An unused classroom? Nada - people were always using those to snog and have unabashed sex. Each other's common rooms might be too awkward, as though they were invading one another's privacy. Plus, they'd probably end up berating the other for their disgusting House colors.

No, a safe place would be… "The Quidditch Pitch?" Draco suggested, and Harry gave a swift nod to show his agreement for their spot.

The two former rivals walked together, side by side, in silence as they made their way to the Pitch.

Arriving at the field, the boys sat on the grassy terrain - thankfully it was a nice Spring day in early April and there had just been the first rain of the season, giving the ground a healthy look instead of the grotesquely brown one it surely would have gained from the long Winter months - as they faced each other with their legs in various positions on the ground.

They were sitting in an awkward silence for several minutes, both staring off into space, before Harry got a clever idea of something to do to 'break the ice,' as the Muggles were always saying.

With a smirk, Harry turned his gaze to Draco, who caught it immediately, and spoke. "I have an idea. Let's play a game, shall we?"

"Game?" Draco repeated. "What kind of game?"

Harry grinned even more, then leant forward for dramatic effect, to speak again, "It's a word association game." Draco eyed him skeptically. "I say a word and you answer with the first thing that comes to mind. Got it?" Draco nodded, feeling slightly nervous, but not letting it show, as he attempted to bring back his Gryffindor courage that had seemed to have vanished the moment Harry had brought up this 'game.' "Ready? Okay, let's see here… Mood?"



"I'm with you."

That certainly threw Harry off. "I make you nervous?"

"Aren't you supposed to be spouting out words at me?"

"Why are you answering a question with a question?"

Draco's brow furrowed at that. "Because you are?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "This is getting us absolutely nowhere."

"I know."

"Fine. Uhm… Quidditch?"





"Your arse," Draco answered immediately, then blushed at how easily that had come out.


"Yes - you look hot when trying to catch the Snitch." Hey, as long as he was answering all these questions, he might as well do it truthfully, right? And besides, he'd already answered that last question with 'the first thing that had come to his mind' so why not dig himself in even deeper…?

"Okay… Potions?"




Harry raised an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything about it as he let out a soft laugh. "Soft?"


"Bunnies?" Harry repeated dubiously.

"Yes." Draco gave him a look that clearly meant 'just get on with it, Potter, you git.'


Draco made a disgusted face. "Breasts."


"Girls all in themselves."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes, definitely. They are quite disgusting, aren't they?" he mused, making a face. Draco chuckled.

"We done yet, then?" the blond asked, to which Harry nodded, and the two fell into a silence once again, this one more comfortable than the first, however.

Draco looked around the Pitch, seeming to be staring off into space, but Harry could have sworn there was something else held in the blond's gaze. "Do you remember our first game together? Back in second year? Gods, that was so long ago…" Ah, so that's what he was doing, he was reminiscing.

Harry nodded, and followed Draco's nostalgic gaze. "Of course. Slytherin won, as always, because they have the best Seeker in the entirety of Hogwarts, me," he answered smugly, smirking unabashedly.

Draco scowled. "Yes, but you have to remember, you only reached it milliseconds before I would have, had you not seen it before me. Damn you and your stupid perfect eyesight," Draco muttered darkly, and fingered the glasses on his face. "I still blame it on the fact that you had a whole year's advantage on me, you know," he added.

Harry laughed. "Yes, I would say you got cursed a bit, didn't you. You know, glasses are a bit hazardous, why didn't you ever just get contacts? They have them in Hogsmeade, haven't you ever bothered to look?" Yeah, cursed more ways than one, what with that scar, and all…

Draco shrugged. "I dunno. I guess… I thought I should keep them. It's easier for people to identify me that way. If I were to get rid of them I'd just look so different. It'd be a whole new me, people probably wouldn't even recognize me anymore."

"Have you ever seen yourself without your glasses on before? Or is your eyesight really that terrible? Ever seen what you actually look like?" Gods, I bet those silver eyes are even more beautiful unhindered…

Draco's head snapped up. "What did you just say?"

Shit, did I just say that out loud? Harry froze, blushing.

Draco laughed. "Yes, you did."

"U-uhm… sorry. I really didn't mean to say that."

"No, it's nice. To hear a compliment that doesn't have to deal with the war or just Voldemort in general. You know?"

"How'd you end up having to get glasses, anyway?"

Draco blushed lightly, rouge on his perfect pale features. "Sitting too close to the telly when you're younger can do that to a bloke, you know," he mumbled.

That immediately piqued Harry's interest, it seemed, as he leaned forward to the other boy in anticipation. "You have a telly?" His eyes were bright with glee, happiness obviously there.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, I live with my cousin - Nymphadora Tonks - and my Aunt Andromeda. I always had a wizarding upbringing, but then there's Ron's dad, and, well… he's always been fascinated by Muggle things, so we ended up getting one. Truth be told, it got me interested as well - a little too much if you ask me - and I ended up staying up late just so I could watch all the shows on there all night long, and it resulted in screwing up my eyesight like none other. 

They're fascinating though, it's like a million little Wizarding photos, all rolled into one. You should see it!" And then, realizing how animated excited he was getting, stopped, and blushed.

Harry chuckled softly. "Maybe you could show me then sometime, eh?" he suggested, quirking an eyebrow.

Draco nodded vigorously. "Sure, sounds good."

And with that, the two settled into another bout of muteness, each of them thinking to themselves.

"It's Evans now, you know," Harry confessed quietly to the blond, staring down into his lap.

"What?" Draco's head snapped up at this new development.

"My last name. My father- …James, he disowned me, and my mother gave me her maiden name. I'm no longer a Potter, you see, so my mother gave me the Evans name. See?" he flashed his family crest ring at the other boy as his proof.

Draco nodded sadly. "Yes, Harry. I see. And I can understand how much it must mean to you, also."

Harry gave him a half smile. "Yeah, it does." Harry was silent, thinking about a change of subject, and anything to get the attention off of himself. "Can… Would you mind if I tried something, do you think?"

Draco eyed him, and nodded a moment later. Harry crawled over to him slowly, stopped before Draco, so that they were face to face - so close that they could feel each other's breath - and reached a hand up slowly, to take Draco's glasses from his face. He breathed deep in amazement, taking in Draco's features on the beautiful face, unmarred aside from the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, and gazed straight into the beautiful startling silver eyes that stared right back into his own. "Beautiful…" he murmured as he let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. "I was right," Harry smiled as cupped Draco's face in his hand, and said blond leaned into the touch, desperate for contact of such intimacy, and closed his eyes in contentment at the feel of the soft palm holding him.

"You're always right, Harry, always…" Draco agreed, almost nonsensically, but all Harry could think of at the moment was how his name had never sounded as wonderful as when the blond Gryffindor said it. Harry stayed kneeling in front of Draco with his hand still on the blond's face. Draco stayed content but his eyes burned into Harry's when he opened them with an intensity the brunet Slytherin had never known before. "People will see you with me."

Harry frowned. It was just like what Draco had said earlier in library to him. "And is that supposed to make me just go away? I told you already, I don't care."

"You may say that, Harry, but you do, I know you do, and I know your tendencies."

"My tendencies?" Harry sneered, and his hand dropped from the blond's face. "My fucking tendencies?! You don't 'know' me, Draco, and you've never even tried to get to know me. So don't you fucking tell me that you know my 'tendencies.' And…- gods! Why? WHY do you always feel the need to make things more difficult than they have to be? It's annoying, Draco, you always do it, you and your stupid fucking Gryffindor impulses…" he snarled and glared at the boy whose mood was quickly turning to quite an angered one.

"My 'Gryffindor impulses,' as you so kindly put it, have helped me on numerous occasions, thank you very much. I've gotten out of a whole heap of trouble thanks to my Gryffindorness, I've faced Voldemort loads of times, all because I'm brave, and don't rely on others to get the job done. Unlike you and your fellow Slytherins."

"Oh! So that's what you think of me, then is it? You don't like me for my Slytherin qualities, hmm? Well fine! Fuck you, then! But I've figured you out, Draco Malfoy, the only reason you said that earlier is because you're scared. You're scared of people hating you for resorting to being with a Slytherin!" And with that, Harry got up and started walking off the Quidditch Pitch, but stopped abruptly at the voice.

"You're right, Harry, you always are…" Draco said quietly, staring down at his hands in his lap as he stayed sitting on the grassy field, then lifted his head to glance up at Harry, who had turned around at Draco's words. "I am scared - I'm scared of what everyone will think of me if I'm seen with you. It's not even that you're a boy, or that you're in Slytherin - it's who your parents are. They're Death Eaters, Harry, I know, I saw your father during the final task in Fourth Year. It's who you're going to become…" he ended in a soft whisper.

Harry strode over to the blond slowly, and sat next to him. He sighed, and gazed at the setting sun. "I already told you, Draco, I'm not like my parents. I denounced the Dark Lord, I won't be a Death Eater, how many times do I need to tell you this, Draco?" Harry questioned, exasperated. "I'm not a follower. Of anybody. Why can't you just believe me?" His tone was desperate, and sad all at the same time.

"It isn't me, Harry, it's everyone else. It's all of them that think once you're exposed to such an environment that you could never go back. It's a loss of innocence, of purity, and nobody believes that people can change. They all think it's just who you are, it doesn't even matter what I think…"

"It doesn't matter?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're Draco Malfoy, 'Boy Who Lived', how can it not matter?"

Draco shrugged. "It just… doesn't, I guess."

"But it's your life," Harry insisted. "How the hell can that not matter?!"

"Who cares if it's my life?! One of us has to kill the other, 'for neither can live while the other survives' and all that rubbish. And until then, people I love will keep dying. And I don't want 

you to be one of them, Harry!" Said Slytherin froze. "You don't understand, you never could! No one knows what it's like to be me, to see your own godfather die right in front of you after you just got him back two years previous, or to have little to none of your family still living because your parents were murdered by a madman when you were only a year old, or seeing Cedric Diggory die because of that same person!" Draco had tears running down his pale cheeks - Harry, on the other hand, was stock still, unmoving. "I can't see you die, Harry, not you, not another…" The blond sobbed, and Harry pulled the shaking boy into him, holding him against his body with his arms wrapped around him.

Harry breathed deep, a warm, pleasurable feeling fluttering in his stomach, despite the somber atmosphere. Then something dawned on him. I can't see you die, Harry, not you, not another… "You… you love me?" the Slytherin asked in disbelief, frozen to the spot.

Draco froze as well, and laughed once, nervously. "Eh, yeah. Sort of."

"Sort of." Harry turned the boy around in his arms to look him in the eye, by the grey ones turned down as he blushed.

"Yeah… I guess, erm… yes."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nice clear declaration there, Malfoy, really it is," he said sarcastically, then sighed after a moment. "Do you really mean it?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco bucked up his Gryffindor courage. "Yes, I do," he told the other boy more firmly, nodding his head once.

Harry's emerald green eyes were warm, affectionate, as he gazed at Draco. "I'm in love with you, too, Draco." And with that, he pounced, and started to snog a very startled, very wet-faced Draco Malfoy. Harry moved his lips against the blond's, who fell to the ground from the sudden impact, taking Harry with him as he recovered from his initial shock. Draco moaned, thankful for the intimate contact, as Harry groaned as well, and thrust his tongue inside the blond's open mouth to begin exploring the hot, wet cavern once again, as he had days before. Draco's hand snaked up to explore underneath the black shirt, caressing the chest there.

Harry detached his mouth from the blond's - who whimpered from the loss of the touch - and began placing kisses all over Draco's face, moving down to his chin while his tanned hands unbuttoned the Gryffindor's dark red T-shirt so that he, too, could grasp at the skin beneath it, and get his lips on that pale, prominent collarbone.

And oh dear lord, Draco was already starting to babble.

His first time?

One would guess so.

"Oh yes, yes, Harry, right there, yes, oh… Ohhh!" The blond was chattering on and on, throwing his head back as his eyes rolled back, all the while Harry made his way down the boy's chest, before getting severely impatient and spelling off all their clothes as he did so.

Both shivered at the sudden cold, before also, shivering pleasantly at the full skin on skin contact.

Harry stared down into Draco's silver, lust-filled eyes, before kissing the blond softly, slowly. It was much more loving and gentle than Draco could have ever imagined to be experiencing, and for that he was thankful. As they kissed each other in a fluid, sensual motion, Harry softly whispered a wandless spell to slick his fingers, before thrusting one suddenly into Draco. The blond gasped into the kiss, but relaxed only moments later. Harry continued on with this for the next few moments, simultaneously searching the cavern of Draco's arse and brushing his prostate on numerous occasions as he added more fingers, and explored the blond's mouth at the same time.

When Harry deemed him prepared, he tore his mouth away from Draco's, to growl huskily. "Lift your legs." Draco obeyed immediately, but - being a virgin, and not really knowing exactly what to do with them once they were up already - he simply lay there, until Harry understood that Draco really had no idea what to do with them - mere milliseconds later - and wrapped them around his waist as he slowly moved forward and said, on a breath, "brace yourself, love," before sliding into Draco slowly, agonizingly slow…

Oh gods…

Draco's breathing was coming in heaves, heart beating violently in his chest that heaved up and down, while Harry's was no different. "Oh Merlin…" Draco muttered, shuddering from the all-new feeling of having someone inside of him. "Holy FUCK, Harry…"

"Draco…" Harry whispered, not trusting himself to speak properly, lest he say something he knew he shouldn't.

"Harry," Draco gasped, holding onto the brunet's slim hips. "Move," he ground out.

The green-eyed Slytherin took a deep, trembling breath, clenched his eyes shut, and began thrusting in and out of the blond boy.

"Oh gods, Harry… Faster!" Draco panted, and Harry happily complied, gasping for breath as he did so.

:Holy fucking Merlin, Draco, you're so fucking tight, so unbelievably fucking tight…: Harry had almost unknowingly slipped into Parseltongue, to which Draco convulsed even more in pleasure at the seductive sounds of sibilant hissing.

"Gods, Harry, more, MORE, PLEASE! Say more!" Draco screamed, clenching his eyes shut as he struggled to control himself.

:You don't know how delicious you look like this, Draco, with your head thrown back in ecstasy, gasping for air as I fuck you so hard you won't even know your own name when we're done, sweating and panting. Oh Merlin, Draco, I love you so much, you don't even know. Love you so much…:

Harry hit Draco's prostate, once, twice, oh fuck, three times, and with a shout of Draco's name, came so hard he didn't know if even he would remember his name after this. Draco came with him, screaming so much that he wasn't sure he would be able to talk afterwards.

"Harry… Oh gods, I love you…" Draco's voice was hoarse from the screaming, but at the moment he really couldn't care less. Harry wandlessly conjured a glass of water and placed it to the blond's lips, to which Draco happily drank down, leaving the rest for Harry to have.

The brunet took Draco into his arms, after cleaning them up, embracing him with his arms around the blond's back. Draco sighed in contentment, closing his eyes as he merely reveled in the moment. "I love you too. My dragon…" Harry smiled, at the mere thought of being able to call the blond boy his.

It didn't really take a lot to make Harry happy these days.

The two of them stayed in their positions, coming down from the high of their orgasms. They were still slick with sweat, hair matter to their foreheads, exhausted from their recent activities but in bliss at just being together. Draco and Harry stayed silent for minutes, just enjoying the feel of the other. Draco snuggled up closer to the brunet, enjoying the feel of the other boy. "What are you going to do after school, Harry?"

The Slytherin stayed silent for a few moments, then shrugged. "I don't really know. Haven't ever actually thought about it. When you're a Potter you're expected to become a Death Eater when you get older - there usually isn't much choice in the matter. It's either you follow in your father's footsteps, or… suffer the consequences, as it were. I just ended up choosing the latter option, is all." He smiled briefly down at the blond in his arms who had glanced at him while he'd been giving his answer.

"Do you regret it?"

"Choosing you? Never. I'd never regret choosing you." Harry kissed the top of the blond's head, and as Draco snuggled closer, Harry held him even tighter.

"How… how did you find out that you could speak Parseltongue, anyway?" Draco asked after a few minutes, thinking back to their previous activities.

"James has Slytherin blood in him, from long ago, and the Parseltongue gene is passed down, but no one since Salazar's immediate family has been able to speak it, until me, for whatever reason. I dunno, I can't really explain it properly, exactly."

"Wow…" Draco trailed off, closing his eyes as he gave into the soothing circles that were being 

rubbed into his back by Harry's fingers.

"Oh. My. Merlin…" The voice came from the side of the field, and Harry and Draco whipped their heads around, only to see the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team standing there, brooms in hand and mouths wide open in shock.

Neville was there as well. Upon seeing the naked bodies, he gasped on sight, and shielded his eyes with both hands.

Only then did Draco realize that it was Seamus who had said it, realized it even as he blushed a profusely, face a bright crimson contrasting with his creamy skin. "Uhm… hello," Draco greeted, despite how embarrassed he was at the moment. "Ron, Seamus… Neville… everyone else," he acknowledged the audience he and Harry had gotten.

They all just stayed staring at the two boys, naked on the Quidditch Pitch. The Quidditch Pitch where they should have been practicing at the moment.

"Draco…" the Irish boy started, smiling slightly, "what are you doing on the field? Naked?" he questioned mischievously. "And with Potter, no less? Who is also naked, ooh, how curious." Seamus turned to the redhead standing next to him. "Ronnie, d'you see what I see, it's Draco and Potter naked on the field together. Embracing."

Draco groaned, and hid his face in Harry's chest. "Go 'way, Seam."

"Draco!" Seamus admonished teasingly. "But I want to know what you're doing with him!" he whined petulantly.

The blond lifted his head, groaning in annoyance. "We had sex, alright! Now stop badgering leave!"

Seamus just continued with the teasing of his friend. He had to admit, it was quite fun. "But we have practice! We can't leave right now!"

"Well I'm Captain this year, and I say practice is cancelled for today! Now go away! Or better yet, we'll leave! If you don't mind, I think I'm going to take my boyfriend and have more hot, sweaty man sex with him all over the castle!" Draco stood, back to the team - thankfully Harry had remembered to conjure up blankets after their 'exercise' and so they could cover with those, rather than having to go buck naked in front of Draco's entire team - as he pulled Harry up with him and they bolted for the Quidditch showers after - by some miracle - actually remembering to grab Draco's glasses from the ground.

Draco and Harry grabbed the nearest stall to them, and stumbled in, starting the shower, and moved under the hot water. Draco giggled quietly at the feel of Harry's body flush against his own, then leaned up to kiss Harry. Softly at first, but then Harry took control and thrust his tongue inside the mouth he knew so well by now, and pushed the blond boy hard against the wall, grinding their hips together.

Who knew they could get so hard so fast? Ah, stamina…

Draco jumped, wrapping his legs around the Slytherin's waist, arms securely encircling his neck while Harry's hands lifted Draco's hips to thrust his already hard cock inside the blond, using the water as a makeshift lubricant. Draco grunted at the sudden intrusion, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy while Harry started moving their wet-slick bodies in time together.

And oh bloody hell…

They were at it again.

Back on the field, Ron stared down at the Pitch. "How long d'you figure it'll take them to notice they don't have their clothes?"


I'm drowning (I have come to the realization,)

But I don't care (that life is more than what I have accomplished.)
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got (And life is more then the realization,)

Who needs air? (that we have accomplished nothing at all.)
I'm drowning (True success is so selfless so drown in the,)

But I don't care (lyrics of your life and give up the air that you breathe.)
Because when you've got what I got, what I got, what I got (You don't need anything.)

I don't need air.



A/N: So this is the first real AU story I've done like this before, and I would really like to know what you think. So... review? :D

Love you all,
Nymphy Fate.