The Best Duel Ever

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in this story, unless stated otherwise. Rated for possible sexual content, violence and language. Reader discretion is advised. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidence and I will not be held responsible! Thanks!

WARNING: WILL CONTAIN MATURE THEMES (sex of the graphic variety) and SLASH (male on male) and STRIP DUELING (patent pending) and slight AU-ness!! Ye be warned

Summary: A duel between arch rivals leads to something so much better. For once Harry and Draco agree; this is sure to be the best duel EVER! Harry/Draco SLASH!

Author's Note: so this is me trying my hand at Drarry, and hopefully it turns out! XD Much-ly thanks to the always-delicious financer of any smart fangirl's Wank Bank account, I'm Just Drawn That Way (1/2 of the smashingly good Wordnerds2008 team) for getting me going…started. LOL. ;D 'You're turnin' me on, you're turnin' me on' Cheers!

PS. – HOLY CRAP! HOLY! FUCKING! CRAP! I…have a job!! Which sucks, because it'll cut down on time to write (boo!!) but will be good because I will soon have monies! YAY! :D Say hello to the new employee at Tim Horton's!! LOL


Harry stared at the note in disbelief. There had to be some kind of error…definitely a mistake. There was no reason Draco Malfoy would send him…him Harry fucking Potter, his notorious archrival, mail of all things. But there the house elf stood, her large ears quivering slightly. "What?" he asked the nervous creature for what had to be the third time.

"Draco Malfoy is asking Tweaky, sir, that she deliver to you this letter." She held it out hopefully, even as her eyes darted guiltily to the dormitory door.

Ron was off with Hermione somewhere (probably snogging, Harry thought mournfully), and Seamus and Dean and Neville all had class. He was alone in the dormitory, back, as he and his friends had decided they would do, at Hogwarts to finish his schooling. He was just far too attached to the place to say goodbye forever yet.

So he was alone, eyeing a piece of parchment with obvious distaste while Tweaky the house elf edged slightly toward the door. He sighed and took the letter, breathing an unconscious sigh of relief when he wasn't instantly cursed. Tweaky smiled weakly in thanks before Disapparating, and The One Who Used to be Chosen unfolded it with another sigh.


I challenge you to a duel - Trophy Room, midnight, tonight. Let's prove who the better man is. No seconds, just wizard against wizard…if you're up to it.

-D. Malfoy

He read the words through twice more, and turned the parchment over to check for a postscript, but there was nothing else. Automatically, his mind jumped to the conclusion that it was some sort of ploy to get him alone so Malfoy and his remaining cronies could take him on. He was on the verge of simply crumpling up the message and disregarding it as some elaborate hoax, but then his eyes caught the last five words again. '…if you're up to it.'

His jaw set then, and he decided. He would go to Malfoy's little duel (under the Invisibility Cloak of course), and if it was a ruse, he would find out. If not…well then he'd duel Malfoy man to man. It was certainly time the blond got what was coming to him.

After the war, Malfoy and his mother had gotten off relatively lightly with only minor sentences of community service. Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban (much to Harry's delight), but after he had given evidence in the form of memories, clearing Narcissa and Draco of any wrongdoing, the jury had gone easy on them. The Boy Who Lived was torn, because he knew that Malfoy had only done the things he had out of fear, fear of what Voldemort might have done to him or his family, but there was still a large part of Harry that detested the arrogant youth. He had boasted of his own importance in sixth year on the Hogwarts Express, and had taken the Dark Mark of his own free will, and in Harry's mind, those acts were not easily forgiven. Especially when Draco still strutted around Hogwarts like he was a Slytherin princeling, full of swagger and disdain.

Yes, Harry would go and see what Malfoy was trying to lure him into, and then he would hex the pants off of him. After all, turning Malfoy into a great, oozing ball of something nasty couldn't be harder than defeating Lord Voldemort.

He smiled at that thought, folded the letter and shoved it into his pocket, and then went to find Ron and Hermione. He wouldn't tell them his plan, (knowing they would try to persuade him against it), but he still reckoned Hermione might be able to give him tips on some particularly good hexes.


Draco paced the stone floor in front of a glass-fronted cabinet displaying aging Quidditch Cups and Awards for Special Services to the School, all burnished lovingly (with a liberal amount of magic) to a rosy glow. But he wasn't seeing them, or the various rolls of parchment containing the records of past Head Boys and Girls. Draco Malfoy's eyes were fixed on the door, which stood only slightly ajar, spilling a golden chink of light into the hallway.

He sighed and checked his watch again. Two minutes to midnight. Fuck! If Potter had chickened out (while it would make for several good evenings of uproarious laughter) he was going to be seriously pissed. It had been nearly impossible to escape Pansy Parkinson's fluttering eyelashes, and breathy moaning sighs as she snuggled annoyingly up to him in the common room, and he really didn't fancy going back to her. Even with the tale of the legendary Gryffindor hero's cowardice.

"I didn't think you'd show up alone, Malfoy," said a disembodied voice before Potter drew that damned Invisibility Cloak over his hair, rumpling it more than it normally was. The blond felt a surge of anger as his fingers longed to smooth out that unruly tangle. "In fact, I was almost certain this was some kind of ploy to trap me here alone." He grinned toothily, but Draco saw his eyes dart into the corners, checking for signs of badly Disillusioned Slytherin cronies probably, and had to restrain himself again, to keep from rolling his eyes this time.

"And I take it you came alone? Or is this some kind of Gryffindor 'ploy to trap me here' as you so politely put it," Draco retorted. "Or did your little friends think it too dangerous to come prove yourself against the big bad Slytherin."

Harry glared slightly. "Actually I didn't tell them."

The blond was shocked, but hid it well, shifting into a dueling stance when no response came to his lips. The darker haired youth copied him, bowing infinitesimally. Draco returned the slight bend at the waist, and raised his wand up, eyes trained on Harry's face even as he mentally perused the lists of spells he should start with.

"Ready?" Potter asked tersely, his muscles flexing and relaxing in an unconscious motion as he braced himself for whatever might come his way. Knowing Malfoy it could be something nasty, and he quickly cast a silent Shield Charm just in case the blond struck early.

"Are you?" he drawled, smirking, before his wand twirled in a blurred action. Harry felt the spell ruffle harmlessly around his shield, and his eyes narrowed.

Instead of responding, he merely shifted his shield aside and cast a whispered Tarantallegra that rebounded off of Draco's own film of shimmery magical protection.

Lights flashed and dazzled and blinded the two young men as they snarled and growled like animals, wands whistling and whipping through the heated air as they threw spell after spell at one another. Draco's hair was mussed from dodging and ducking so often, and Harry could feel the beads of sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

The Slytherin's grey gaze slid appreciatively across the lines Harry's body and limbs made as he dueled, drinking in the delicate play of muscles beneath skin and clothing. Embarrassingly, Draco could feel himself reacting more and more as they exchanged spells both silent and spoken. The intensity that Harry normally kept bottled poured off him in palpable waves, making his eyes shine brighter and the lightning scar on his forehead stand out brilliantly. He hated to think the thoughts, even to himself but Potter…aroused him.

Draco found himself wondering what Harry would look like without the bulky Hogwarts over-robes. Surely that thin white cotton shirt would cling to his rough-hewn angles, molding to the shape of his Quidditch-honed body almost like a second, too-big skin. And from that mouth-watering image, Draco's mind skipped ahead to the next best thing. Harry shirtless, the sweat trickling down a smooth, flat stomach, oiling that hard, toned abdomen. He gulped and tried to focus on repelling the sudden barrage of Harry's spells.

The Gryffindor's eyes blazed impossibly greener behind his spectacles and Draco felt his cock jump in his trousers traitorously. Fuck, he thought. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I grow weary of this stalemate Potter," Draco finally drawled, somehow still sounding bored and aloof, even though it took a great deal of effort to block the jinx Harry sent at him and keep from drooling as his gaze ranged down his arch-nemesis' body.

"You could give up," the brunet suggested, robes whirling as he spun out of the way of Draco's retaliatory hex.

"Malfoys don't give up," the blond intoned, a little heat creeping into his voice, as if it were absurd for Harry to have even thought such a thing. "This is pointless. I'm going to keep blocking whatever pitiful spells you try to throw at me, and you're going to keep ducking out of the way of mine."

The Boy Who Lived grit his teeth. "Whatever Malfoy…just admit that I'm the better duelist here. You're far too slow to get me."

Draco raised a mocking eyebrow, looking impossibly attractive with that sexily rumpled hair and the pink flush tinting his cheeks. Wait, what? He didn't just think of Malfoy as attractive…did he? "Oh really, Potter. Then you won't mind making a little wager, then, will you?" His tone was amused, laced with challenge, dripping with that damnable arrogance.

"What? Galleons?" Harry asked. If Malfoy wanted his money then this was a pretty poor way of going about getting it. Then again, when had the Slytherin ever been known for being particularly witty or clever?

Draco sneered. "What a predictably common response, Potter," he retorted.

"Then what?" Harry asked, confused.

Draco's grey eyes shifted to one side, almost guiltily, then zeroed back in on Harry's face, the smirk firmly ensconced on those lush, pliant lips. "How about this… If you manage to sneak one of those pitiful excuses for a curse slip past my defences, I'll take off an item of clothing. But if I get one past you, you have to do the same."

Harry looked at Draco in shock, mouth hanging open gormlessly, wand held loosely by his side in the way he had specifically trained all of the DA members not to do. But Malfoy (though he was sorely tempted) didn't press this advantage, much to Harry's shock.

When the Chosen One's brain finally kicked back into gear, his mouth snapping shut and his grip tightening once again on his wand, the words that streaked across his numb mind popped out without passing through his mental filter. "What…? Are you fucking serious?"

Draco's smirk widened, turning more lopsided, revealing a dimple on the left side of his mouth that Harry felt a sudden urge to trace with his hands. "Yes. You're not scared are you Potter?"

Harry's back went up immediately at this jibe and he scowled at Draco and his stupid pretty hair and his fucking adorable dimple. "No. Not of you. You're on, Malfoy." Both of the young men resumed their dueling stances, now circling around one another, trying to gain the advantageous angle for spell casting.

The spells that flickered and shimmered through the air now were less friendly than before, curses woven in with the standard hexes and jinxes as both pulled out all the stops. The little room became more stifling from the heat their magic generated, and Harry wiped his brow more and more frequently with his sleeve.

It was a sight to behold for Draco, those little rivulets of Harry's perspiration slithering down the tanned perfection of his skin to soak into the collar of his shirt. He found himself, even as he snarled and blocked the plethora of spells, wondered what Harry's reaction would be if he let a spell past his defences. He wondered even more why he wanted this to happen. Surely he didn't want to get naked with the Golden Boy… No. Rather, he wanted to flaunt his superior physique. Yes that had to be it.

So when he heard Potter hiss the Jelly Legs Jinx, a relatively safe spell to be caught with, he only waved his wand as if he were blocking it, not letting his magical power flow into the incantation that came automatically to his mind. The spell hit him and he wobbled, stumbling backward into the stone wall, his knees rubbery and unable to support him, and tried his best to keep his face impassive and not burst out laughing at the look on Harry's face.

Harry stared, green eyes wide behind the glasses that slid down his sweaty nose, as Draco sank against the wall, the corners of his mouth twitching while he fought to remain standing. "Congratulations Potter, it looks like with the proper motivation you can actually get one past," Draco called dryly. Harry's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply, demanding a redo, but then the blond was loosening his tie and his long pale fingers were unbuttoning the crisply pressed school shirt.

And then the snowy fabric was fluttering to the floor and Harry was wondered why it was that he wanted a do-over for the last round of dueling. Draco performed the counter spell and stood straight once more, grey eyes burning with some indefinable emotion that may have been amusement. But Harry didn't see any of this. His own eyes were riveted to the smooth, lithe and fucking hot musculature of Malfoy's chest and abdomen only partially obscured by his tie.

There were several faint, pearlescent lines running across the blond's torso that Harry knew were from his own use of Sectumsempra in sixth year, the last time they had dueled one another, but the marks didn't detract at all from the beauty of that body. If anything, they added to it, and Harry felt the faint stirrings of arousal flickering through his cock. A bright red flush erupted over his face and neck, and he could feel his ears burning, but he managed to wrench his gaze away.

"Ready, Potter?' Draco asked, a definite undertone of amusement in his cool voice and Harry nodded tersely, too unsure of what might come out if he attempted speech at that moment.

Draco raised his wand faster than a cobra strike, and Harry only caught the white blur of motion as Malfoy hexed him, and The Boy Who Lived was suddenly stiff as a board as he was hit with a Petrificus Totalus. He tottered, and almost fell, but Malfoy waved his wand lazily at the last second, and Harry unfroze, stumbling forward before his reflexes righted him.

Harry scowled hard at him. "You cheated. You ignored the rules of engagement in a fair fight." Draco laughed, actually fucking laughed at him.

"Slytherin," he offered in way of excuse, pointing at himself, and chuckled again. It was odd, but it had to be the first time Harry had ever heard Malfoy laugh without any hint of malice or snobbishness behind the sound. It was oddly intoxicating. He had to fight to keep his own answering grin from unfurling across his face. "Well?" Draco demanded.

"Huh?" Harry asked, peeling his gaze with definite effort from where it had (in advertently he was sure) wandered down to Malfoy's exposed chest.

Malfoy rolled his grey eyes. "You agreed to our wager, now strip." The blond licked his lips hastily, attempting (with little success) to stifle the mounting excitement in him. It was sick, perverse, downright fucking wrong for him to be so eager to see Potter without a shirt or – oh good Merlin – without pants. His mouth went completely dry at the thought and he had to draw a shuddering breath to calm himself.

The act was quickly superfluous though, as Harry's hands deftly unbuttoned his slightly rumpled white shirt and he shrugged out of it. If it were possible, Draco's mouth would have gone even drier and his cock was suddenly half hard and pressing against his trousers. Fuck it all if the Golden Boy wasn't fit as a motherfucking fiddle.

Harry couldn't help but smile at Malfoy's wide, glassy-eyed stare and purposely flexed a little as he tossed his shirt aside. "Like what you see, Malfoy?" he called out teasingly. The words were out before his brain could think to stop them and operate any sort of mental filter (although Malfoy being half naked himself was mind-boggling, so one could make certain liberties), and he gasped in shock involuntarily.

Malfoy looked, if only for a brief second, startled, but then his practically trademarked smirk was back in place. "Maybe. I could ask the same of you."

Harry gulped and his eyes hardened (along with his thrice damned traitorous cock) marginally. "Maybe," he replied. "Did I ever tell you I was almost sorted into Slytherin?" And then his wand waved as he mouthed the words of a spell. For the tiniest fragment of a heartbeat, Draco thought Potter was going to do the worst to him, but in the next breath he was stripped completely to his underpants and (somehow) socks. His clothes had been Vanished!

Pure shock rendered him to the spot, speechless for a moment, before he managed to choke out, in a reasonably cool voice, "Those were my clothes, Potter."

Harry smirked. "I figured I'd…up the stakes a little, Malfoy." And then his gaze dropped pointedly to Draco's semi-hard cock and he licked his lips unconsciously, his Adam's apple bobbing temptingly as he swallowed. Draco felt his cock stir and a faint blush tinted his pallor. Harry had never seen anything so delicious as a mostly naked Draco Malfoy blushing.

'Two can play this game, Harry,' he thought savagely, and then Vanished the brunet's clothes entirely, realizing as dark, lust-tinted grey eyes (a relic of the Most Nobly Deceased House of Black) raked over the Chosen One's half hard prick, that he had called Potter by his first name. He started forward without even thinking, gaze flicking between Potter's dilated pupils and swelling cock, and murmured, "I fucking hate you Potter," before crashing their mouths together.

Harry stood there, completely stunned, not knowing what the hell he should do. And then it clicked in his mind. He was being kissed by Draco Malfoy. Draco Fucking Malfoy, of all people, while said blond pureblood shoved his tongue as far as possible into his mouth. Shock and incredulity lifted and he didn't have time to think 'What the fuck do I do now?' before he started kissing back, forcing his own wet muscle forward.

Draco's hard, yet delectably, perfectly smooth body pressed against his and a hand snaked around the back of his head, fingers knotting in the thick, unruly dark hair while Draco's other set of digits roamed down Harry's body, searching for a nipple. Upon finding it, he tugged and rolled the hard nub between silken, long fingers while his surprisingly talented mouth sucked erotically at the brunet's lower lip.

"Bloody fuck," Harry gasped as Malfoy's head pulled away, the shiny, smooth platinum locks he'd had his hands in unconsciously, slid away and down as Draco bent to lavish Harry's neck with his hot tongue and teeth. "I hate you too, you fucking brilliant bastard."

Malfoy chuckled and Harry's cock surged, pressing and grinding against the blond's own noticeable bulge. Heat sang through his tissues as electric bliss flowed through Harry's nerve endings and animal passion surged.

He bucked forward, hissing as the sensations rolled through him again and Malfoy, in response, bit harder then he meant, sucking through his moan. "Fucking Merlin!" Harry rasped as pain bloomed, only serving to feed his arousal. "You bloody ponce, that's going to leave a mark!" Harry pulled back, but Draco merely went with him, stepping seductively between the darker-haired youth's legs as Harry's back hit the wall.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not," Draco murmured, gently tonguing the already darkening mark. Then his eyes glinted as he added, "And you better not Vanish that, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes, but secretly vowed he would leave it be. "Shut up and kiss me already," he retorted, even as the hand that had slid from Draco's hair to his arse breached the top of the blond's underwear and Harry's fingers traced the cleft between his buttocks.

Draco literally melted to Harry, his mouth dipping forward and down slightly in a completely natural way, his lips capturing his rival-turned (hopefully) lover's own pliant mouth and kissing gently. Tongues slid out to work in tandem and Harry almost came when Draco sucked his tongue into his mouth to lavish it. Then the pureblood pulled away slightly, nipping the brunet's lower lip, breath coming in rasping pants.

"Tell me you want this," he growled, tongue tracing the curving lines across Harry's ear, his hips rolling and humping, forcing a cry from Potter's lips. "Tell me you want it, Potter."

"Fucking Merlin… I want it! Don't…stop… Oh fuck yes! Fuck, I want you Malfoy."

A wicked, downright fucking sinful smirk formed on Draco's lips, forcing the blood from Harry's brain to his hard, dripping prick, leaving him lightheaded and woozy as the blond frotted desperately against him, hurrying along Harry's pleasure to the pinnacle of release before pulling away.

"You want me, Potter? Prove it. Get on your knees," he whispered, thumbing the tops of his boxer briefs.

The world must have stopped. The apocalypse must surely have been on its way, because Harry slid down the wall until he was kneeling before Draco, and his hands rose to cover the long, mouthwatering digits that had frozen upon the top of the pureblood's underwear. "Let me."

Draco's hands sank into the temptation of Harry's silky, unruly hair as the Defeater of Voldemort whimpered, tonguing the cotton-covered length of the blond's prick (which swelled gratefully). Harry groaned and in one fell swoop, Draco's underpants were around his ankles and the brunet was sucking the tip of his cock, swirling his tongue around the leaking slit, hungrily searching out more salty-sweet pre-come. "Salazar Fucking Slytherin, yes," Draco hissed, digits clenching around tufts of supple hair.

Harry groaned and sucked harder. His wand was pressed to Draco's hip, hand holding it firmly against the pale flesh as he gripped the lithe body in a measure of control. But it was superfluous. Harry wanted Draco to grab his head and fuck his mouth senseless…he wanted to feel the clenching of muscles and spasmodic bucking that would precede his arch nemesis' orgasm. His throat burned to taste the first powerful blast of come as Draco came undone. He groaned just thinking of it, his cock twitching excitedly.

"Don't you dare touch yourself, Harry," Draco commanded in a husky rasp, realizing his mistake as green eyes flashed up to meet his own gaze, widened with shock, pupils blown out in pleasure.

The soft wet pop of Harry's mouth coming off his cock went mostly unnoticed as an uncharacteristic blush heated Draco's cheeks. Fuck!

"Did you just…call me…Harry?" Draco stammered ineffectually as a victorious, smug and (damn if it wasn't) sexy as all fuck grin broke across the Golden Boy's lips. His dark eyebrows waggled. "I think I like it…"

"Shut up and suck my cock, Potter," Draco growled, trying to revert to his former nature even as a strange kind of happiness burst inside him as well at the sight of that grin.

"Ask nicely and I will," Harry teased, loving to see the arrogant bastard so flustered. The ragged pink blotches of his embarrassment and the shiny gleam in his eyes brought a heady sense of power to the brunet and he reveled in it.

"Please," Draco snarled.


"I fucking hate you." The comment didn't carry the normal level of scorn as the blond whimpered when Harry's tongue flicked across the underside of his pulsing, aching member. "Please Harry," he whispered.

Draco caught another glimpse of that triumphant smirk and he shuddered as a thousand volts of electric pleasure shot through his brain and Harry sucked him in as far as possible.

"Fuck, yes, Harry, yes…"

Draco couldn't help himself. His hands moved without volition as he forced more of his cock down The Chosen One's throat before pulling back and bucking forward greedily again. Harry's choked whimper was all the permission he needed before he thrust home a third time, the entire length of his prick sinking between those glorious lips.

It was too much and not enough simultaneously. Because while it was heaven, pure and simple, to be buried in the tight, wet warmth of Potter's mouth, Draco could imagine what his virgin arse would feel like. "Fuck," he murmured brokenly as he pounded into the brunet's willing orifice. He was going to lose it…

And then Harry wrenched himself free. Draco wanted to scream and hex the goddamn tease, but mastered the impulse in the last second. Until, of course, Harry whispered through swollen lips in a raspy voice, "I want you in me, Draco…please."

Teeth ground together and a muscle jumped in Malfoy's jaw. He drew Harry to his feet before grabbing him and pressing him once more to the cool stone wall. Pinning Harry's hands over his head, Draco kissed him ravenously before two of those glorious, long fingers slipped into his mouth and that drawling voice instructed him to suck.

Draco moaned at the sight, nipping determinedly at Harry's ear before hissing, "Oh Merlin, you have no idea what you're doing to me Potter… Mmm, fuck I'm going to pound your arse so hard you'll feel me for a week at least. Their cocks ground together, the slick trails of pre-come and the brunet's saliva lubricating the motion as Draco humped lightly.

His tongue replaced his fingers once more in Harry's mouth, reaching down to circle his anus and slipped a testing digit inside. Draco's mouth made refusal (even if he had wished to refuse) impossible, his finger made even the thought wanting to refuse insanity, as it slid in curling and stretching divinely.

Stars erupted and Harry's eyes rolled back in his head as Draco's questing finger skated hard over his prostate, a little moan huffing from his chest. The blond grinned and sucked Harry's earlobe. "Good?" he murmured.

"Fuck yes," Harry murmured dreamily, arching up and moaning louder as a second finger slid into his arse and stroked the hub of his pleasure. "Humping Hippogriffs, yes! Oh God, fuck me, Draco…"

A third finger slid in and Harry bore down hard on it, greedily seeking pleasure as Draco finger-fucked him into a writhing mess of incoherency.

And then his fingers were gone, replaced by something much larger, hotter and thicker. Harry's teeth worried his lip as Draco thrust experimentally, eyes clenching shut as the head slipped past his resistance.

"Fuck, you have to relax Potter, or I'm not going to make it," Draco warned, one hand circling the Boy Who Lived's prick as the other hooked a thigh around his thin hips, opening him up wider.

He thrust in deeper and Harry reeled, feeling the delicious burn of a first stretch. He was no stranger to pain, not in the slightest sense, but this pain was different…better than any other. It was the pain of fulfillment, the pain of being marked, the pain of ecstatic bliss.

They both knew neither of them would last long. The teasing had gone on too long, and Draco quickly settled into a punishing rhythm, every stroke into Harry's hot, tight ass pushing him closer to the brink.

Harry writhed under Malfoy's pinning hands and deep bucks, moaning and calling his name senselessly as he whirled higher and higher to release. Every impaling sent a jolt of desire rocketing through him, every withdrawal had him calling out in disappointment as he clenched around Draco's erection, trying to hold him in.

"Fuck! I'm going to…I'm… Harry!" Draco crushed his mouth against the brunet's as heat melted his bones and the ancient glory of completion wracked his body and mind. He spurted his seed deep into Harry's hole, fisting him furiously even as he wanted to climb the walls.

The Chosen One moaned vociferously into Draco's clinging mouth as he tipped into his own orgasm, shouting completion as his body went rigid and then limp. Hot come splattered between their bellies as the blond's long fingers stroked him down, hips twitching and thrusting his flaccid member deeper into Harry's spent arse.

Shaking legs finally gave way and they tumbled into a mess of limbs and sticky bodies, both huffing and puffing, both too sated to move. "Gods," Harry murmured after some time, and Draco chuckled softly before rolling off the Gryffindor princeling and withdrawing.

Both had pink-stained cheeks as they cleaned up and dressed, sweat-slicked skin crawling with goose bumps in the suddenly freezing Trophy Room. Awkward silence reigned, rife with unspoken sentiments. "Shall we call it a draw?" Draco drawled as he straightened his tie (which he had Conjured back with the rest of his clothing).

"I think that'd be best," Harry replied, shifty grins threatening to break over both youth's lips. Malfoy stretched languidly and nodded.

"Well then, I suppose we'd best be off…"

Harry paused at the great staircase, which he would ascend and Malfoy would descend, to their proper Houses and beds. He didn't want this to be the end of…whatever had just happened. "Malfoy, I-" he began, but Draco shushed him with a searing kiss.

"I don't think you're going to be rid of me so easily Potter," he panted after pulling away some minutes later. Harry's hair was in absolute shambles from possessive, pale fingers threading through it as they'd snogged, and his shirt was half untucked. Draco was in a similar state of dishevelment.

"Tomorrow?" Harry asked, hating how eager he sounded.

The blond smirked. "Same time, same place." And with one last heady snog and grope for the road, melted into the shadows and disappeared.

Harry practically floated into his dorm room, eyes burning with exhaustion, clothes rumpled from the voracious kissing.

"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded as soon as the door was shut behind him.

Harry couldn't help the smirk that appeared as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. "Around," he answered evasively.

"Seriously, mate, Hermione's been going spare!" Ron added, eyeing Harry's mussed attire and messier-than-average hair. The brunette cast her boyfriend a single glare before rounding on Harry once more.

"You smell like…" Her eyes widened as a blush erupted on her cheeks. "You smell like sex, Harry," she pushed on bravely. "Where have you been, really?"

"Dueling," Harry sighed, flopping facedown onto his mattress and kicking off his trainers.

"Blimey! With who!?" Ron demanded.

"Malfoy." Harry's pillow hid his guilty grin, not that Ron and Hermione, who were looking astounded at one another, would have noticed.

"You were dueling with Malfoy?" Hermione shrieked in a whisper as Ron said, "Who won!?" eagerly.

Harry rolled over and they both saw his smirk now. "It was a draw. But damn if it wasn't the best duel ever."


Author's Note: I KNOW I KNOW!! I'm a horrid person for the lack of updates, but work makes me exhausted and zombie-like, so I never have the writing mood. But I WILL update my chaptered fics…soon…ish… :D Erm, again, first try at Drarry…how'd I do? LOL Review? 'It's a war in your bedroom baby, I'd cut off my tongue for just a taste…' Cheers!!