Author's Note: Thanks to Laurel for her beta work. As with all of my stories, you can find the header graphics in various places. My website and yahoo group for starters, and I've recently added them to my facebook galleries as well. If you add me though, be sure to reference fanfiction or else you might not be put on the permission list to view them.

Harry felt ridiculous.

Dressed as an old Hollywood vampire, complete with long black cape and plastic fangs, Harry stood outside Malfoy Manor with a half-full bag of sweets. It would take losing a bet to show up at this particular house wearing that particular ensemble, which was exactly what happened.

Three weeks prior, in an effort to try and cheer his friend Ron after the redhead was once again sacked by Hermione, Harry had made a wager. He challenged Ron to a game of wizard's chess and explained that the loser would have to dress up in a costume of the winner's choice and go trick-or-treating to all the Slytherins on Halloween. It seemed like a fine idea at the time, albeit, that might have had something to do with the amount of Firewhiskey they'd both imbibed, but Ron had agreed, and as always he'd won the game.

Harry hoped that Ron wouldn't remember their bet in the morning, what with their state of intoxication, but when that proved to be a pipedream, and Ron recalled the entire night, Harry held to hope that Ron wouldn't make him keep his promise. He thought that perhaps the image of him standing on a Slytherin's doorstep asking for candy would be enough to appease his best friend.

Luck, it seemed, was not on Harry's side. True to form, Ron was eager to take the piss out of his best friend and set him up for a very humiliating evening.

"Why a vampire?" Harry had asked as he spread his cape out and frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Mione's always going on and on about these stupid novels, telling me I should be more like Edward, whatever the hell that means," Ron huffed. "I want to punch this Edward bloke in the face."

Harry backed up a step and raised his wand. "Mate, if you even try to punch me in the face, I'm going to hex you into next week."

"I just want to prove to her that vampires aren't so dreamy," he sighed, sagging against the wall.

"So, I'm supposed to go to her house as well?" Harry scoffed, but he wasn't too put out. Letting Hermione tease him in his costume would be far better than what the Slytherins were going to do to him. He was certain that five years and a huge war hadn't made any of the Slytherins like Harry any more than they had in Hogwarts.

"I was hoping you might put in a good word for me," Ron replied, his face set into an expectant grin.

"After this," he said, gesturing to his absurd outfit, "You want favors from me?" It didn't matter what Harry said, or how much false malice he injected into his voice, they both knew that he would do it. He hated to see his friends split up, and he always did what he could to repair the rift. One day it would be irreparable, but Harry didn't want to think about that until he had to. It was hard enough having to choose sides now; he didn't know what he would do when the situation became permanent.

"Don't forget. You have to come home with something from every house, or else you'll have to do it again without the cover of Halloween for the costume," Ron hummed, clearly delighted to see his friend in such an embarrassing plight.

"We didn't agree to that!" Harry balked.

"How am I supposed to know that you went everywhere and didn't just go to the market and buy some candy?" Ron challenged. Harry made some noncommittal noise and frowned, wishing he'd thought of that escape. "Or, you can take a picture of yourself at everyone's house," Ron offered as another option.

Harry wished he were better at memory modification, because he certainly would have used it on his friend then to make him completely forget about this whole thing. But since he had, in fact, not paid close enough attention to those courses in his Auror training, it seemed like he had no choice but to embrace his current dilemma, however much he didn't want to.

Hermione's house was his first stop and he had managed to get her to promise to think about working things out with Ron, but only after snapping a photo of Harry in his silly getup, of course. The other Slytherins that he visited had been surprisingly tolerant of him showing up on their doorstep, though it was clear that most were too baffled by the occurrence to react with hostility. They simply rummaged through their house for whatever candy they could come up with and obliged when he requested a photo with them as evidence of his visit; he was sure most of them had an expression like a stunned arse, but it didn't matter – evidence was evidence.

This brought him to his final stop, standing on the stoop of Malfoy Manor – if you could call a pillared entranceway constructed entirely of polished marble a 'stoop' – and scowling at the closed door. He had saved the best for last.

It seemed that even his thoughts were being sarcastic tonight; he couldn't help being skeptical about this visit. Malfoy was going to crucify him.

He lifted his hand to knock on the door and winced as it made a more resonant noise than he thought possible, though it shouldn't have surprised him. The manor was enormous after all, it was only logical; how would they hear anyone knock without a Charm to bolster the sound?

Harry waited, tapping his fingers impatiently against his sack of candy, and continued to glare at the door as if expecting it to try to hex him any moment. But he figured that, with it belonging to the Malfoys, there was no telling what a seemingly harmless door was capable of.

After a few tense moments – although truth be told, he didn't wait that long – Harry decided that no one was home, so he turned around with a beaming smile and started off toward the gate; his night of humiliation was finally over. But then Fate stepped in, as she liked to do, and, of course, the door opened – Harry knew it was an evil door - and he was forced to turn around and meet the narrowed eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked, his mercurial eyes widening slightly in surprise. "What in Salazar's name are you wearing?"

"Trick or treat?" Harry muttered dully, holding out his bag of goodies for Malfoy to add to.

Malfoy merely stared at him for a long moment, and then a slow smirk erupted on his usually stoic face. "I'll take a treat," he answered darkly.

"Wha- No, that's not how it works, Malfoy. You either give me a treat or I trick you," Harry explained.

"Trick me how?" Malfoy asked, looking skeptical, yet curious.

"I don't know," Harry groaned, too tired to explain the inner workings of a Muggle holiday tradition to a pureblood Slytherin. "I'd toilet paper your lawn, or hit you with a bat bogey hex."

"Well, that's just ludicrous! What's the benefit for me in this little scenario?" Malfoy replied, pursing his lips in derision.

"It's…a Muggle thing," Harry replied after heaving an exasperated sigh. He knew this was going to be the problem house. He should have just skipped it and lied to Ron. "I told Ron you wouldn't get it," Harry muttered.

"I'm not incompetent, Potter. I'm perfectly capable of grasping the idea, it just makes no sense," he defended. "You come here, to my home, and demand treats yet you offer nothing in return save threats on my person or property. Why should I bother to indulge you at all?"

Harry's shoulders sagged and he just shook his head. "Nevermind," he sighed, deciding to call forfeit on the entire night. Surely Ron wouldn't hold him to repeating the humiliation for one stupid Slytherin. He turned to leave, but was stopped when a pale hand shot out and grasped his wrist tightly, spinning him back around.

"How about a deal?" Malfoy offered. "A treat for a treat, or a trick for a trick."

Harry pursed his lips and gazed at Malfoy, trying to seek out any ill intention the man might have had. Eventually he merely shrugged, figuring that if the blond tried anything illegal, he could just take him into Auror custody, and anything else couldn't possibly be more embarrassing that what he'd already been through. "Fine," he replied at last. "I choose treats," he added, not wanting to think about what Draco might be capable of if left to tricks.

"Excellent," Draco replied, pulling Harry into his home by the wrist he still held. Harry got the distinct impression that he should run the other way rather than let himself be pulled into enemy territory, but how bad could it be? It's not as if he was going to be forced to swallow the treat that Draco offered him. "What's with the teeth?" he asked suddenly, and Harry balked, nearly forgetting about the fake fangs he was wearing. He quickly popped them out of his mouth and into his pocket, a faint blush of embarrassment appeared on his cheeks as he did.

As soon as the door shut behind Harry, he began to grow wary; his escape route was now harder to access if Malfoy tried something on him. Suddenly feeling uncomfortably tense, he wanted to get this over with as soon as humanly possible, so he held out his bag of sweets. "Pick whatever you like," he offered.

Draco peered into the bag and turned up his nose. "I don't eat sugary candy," he informed the Gryffindor. "I'd like to keep my teeth in tact, thank you very much," he added, flashing Harry with his pearly whites.

"One piece of candy isn't going to rot your teeth, Malfoy," Harry scoffed.

"How do you know I'm not an addict? One piece could lead to two, two to three, and then suddenly I'm binging on sugar and end up looking like a homeless person!" Malfoy ranted, as if utterly appalled by Harry's insensitivity.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely, and instead decided the quickest way out of this bizarre night was to just go along with Draco's dramatics. "Fine," he sighed. "What is it you want then?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Draco replied softly, almost whispering as he closed the gap Harry had purposely put between them. With every step Malfoy took forward, Harry took a matching step back, almost dancing with the other boy, until he was effectively pinned against the banister with no more room to retreat further. He swallowed thickly when Draco leaned close, his breath ghosting across Harry's lips in the most sensual way. It made things low in Harry's body tighten and tingle uncontrollably. But before he could curse his traitorous anatomy, Draco's lips were pressing against his and a wet tongue was pleading for entrance.

Harry had kissed a bloke before, once, and coincidentally that time was also the result of a drunken dare. It had been Seamus and even though he had wished he were being honest when he said he hadn't enjoyed it one bit, he'd been lying through his perfectly straight teeth.

With Malfoy pressed up against him, Harry soon realized that if kissing Seamus – in his sloppily inebriated state - had been surprisingly pleasant, then kissing Malfoy - who was clearly skilled and quite sober – was more than simply pleasant. It was divine.

It wasn't as if the evening was going to get more humiliating, so Harry gave in to the kiss, melting against Malfoy's body as the man explored his mouth with his talented tongue. He groaned aloud when he thought of that tongue swirling around a different body part and wished he could curb his inappropriate thoughts. He knew without thinking that the kiss alone was going to serve as wank material for weeks. Harry didn't need to add any other fantasies to that or it might drive him mad.

When Draco pulled back, dragging Harry's bottom lip through his teeth before reluctantly letting go, he smirked down at Harry. "Well, that was certainly a treat," he whispered before stepping back just enough that Harry could run for the door if he felt so inclined.

He didn't.

Instead, he just stood there, still pressed against the wall of his own accord, and stared back at the blond until apparently Malfoy could no longer take the silence. "Well," he asked, his breathy voice tinged with impatience. "What would you like for your treat?"

Harry didn't think of the consequences of his actions, or about what he would be thinking tomorrow morning – or an hour from now for that matter. Instead he let his instincts guide him as he bunched his fists into the silky fabric of Draco's robes and pulled the blond against him. Harry ravished the Slytherin's mouth, trying to impress Malfoy with his own skill, and felt a victorious thrill when the blond squeaked in surprise.

Their second kiss started out violent, with Harry trying to best the blond and show his domination. However, it quickly developed into something slow and lingering and, if Harry was with anyone else, he might even say sweet. Harry's hands loosened in Draco's robes and slipped down to his hips, digging ever so slightly into the flesh there with his fingers. Draco, however, went the opposite direction, letting his hands tangle in Harry's wild mane instead.

This kiss, if possible, was even more exquisite than the last, and it ended only because they both needed air. "I always knew you'd be fantastic at that," Draco rasped, his long fingers still twined in Harry's locks.

"Think about it often?" Harry asked, his eyebrow quirked in mild amusement. If he'd meant for Draco to be embarrassed by the question, he was starkly disappointed.

"More than you know," he whispered instead. "Although, to be fair, I also think of that mouth of yours doing many other things."

Harry's face heated up, which he hadn't thought possible since it seemed all the warmth in his entire body had pooled in his groin. He blinked back at Malfoy, unsure what to reply to such a blatant innuendo, especially when he'd already been trying to ward off images of that nature just moments ago.

"Oh?" he replied, in a voice that sounded like gasping and choking all at once. "Like what?"

"Well," Draco murmured, slinking back over to Harry's side, "I could tell you, or I could show you."

Harry swallowed thickly, but refused to allow his Gryffindor bravery to leave him now. Even if Draco decided to tell the papers what had happened here, it was still Harry's word against his. No one would believe Malfoy if Harry denied everything. He'd be damned if he'd allow the Slytherin to call him a coward, and he wouldn't even be able to deny it if he walked away now. All of these were merely excuses to delay things, however, because Harry had no intention of outright ignoring the feelings Malfoy had evoked within him. Besides, if Malfoy could make him feel that brilliant with just a kiss, he could hardly imagine what else the blond was capable of. "I assume there are rooms in this place more private than the foyer," Harry commented, pleased that his voice didn't shake in the least.

Draco's eyes darkened with lust and his body seemed to thrum with energy as he smiled down at Harry. "This certainly is a treat. I think I like Halloween," he whispered as he tugged Harry up a long flight of stairs to a set of polished white doors. "Are you sure about this? I won't be vilified on the cover of the Daily Prophet as the Death Eater who raped poor, innocent Harry Potter, will I?"

"If I wanted to do that, I could just lie to the papers now and never go through with it at all," Harry pointed out. "Besides, out of the two of us, who do you think is more trustworthy?"

Draco pursed his lips to hide a delighted laugh. The Gryffindor was cleverer than he'd given him credit for. They made it through the door, but no further into the room, before Harry had Draco pinned against the backside of it. Harry had no wish to inspect the Slytherin's room, or waste time with idle chitchat. The only thing he longed for was to taste every inch of the blond pressed against him.

"I want you," Harry whispered and a second later Draco found his lips being assaulted by the eager Gryffindor.

Harry tasted better than Draco had ever imagined, and if he were honest, Draco would admit that the Gryffindor Golden Boy often had a staring role in his fantasies, particularly in the last few years. But he was so startled by Harry's boldness that he forgot to respond to the kiss, and Harry began pulling away.

The idea of breaking the kiss before it had really started was suddenly inconceivable to Draco and he grabbed the raven-haired boy by his gaudy black cape and pulled him closer, plunging his tongue into the Gryffindor's mouth and being rewarded first with a gasp and then a deep rumbling moan.

He could hardly believe it was happening, and was even less inclined to believe Potter had been the one to initiate it this time, but soon enough he felt deft fingers running convincingly through his hair and trailing down over his infuriatingly clothed body.

Harry pulled back after a moment, breathing heavily and chuckled. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he rasped when he pulled away for air.

"Why?" Draco asked, confused and wanting Potter to just shut up and kiss him again. "Am I that repulsive?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "As if you would believe me if I said yes. You know you're gorgeous." Harry regretted the words the moment they escaped his lips, thinking he'd just given the Slytherin the upper hand to use as he wished, but all Draco did was smirk in reply. Interestingly enough, the smirk quickly faded into a frown and Harry found he liked the snarky look better.

"This is all just a great big experiment to you, isn't it?" he whispered, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "Why hadn't I seen it before? There is no conceivable universe where Harry Potter would be attracted to me. What's the plan here? Are you going to tell all your friends what a flaming ponce I am? Are you just going to leave in the middle of it?"

"You're awfully suspicious for a man who has me alone in his bedroom," Harry whispered, running his thumb along Draco's jaw line.

Draco's body shuddered from the touch and he chastised himself for being so easy to distract. "How am I supposed to trust you?" he asked.

"I'm not a Slytherin," Harry pointed out, his voice holding an edge of humor. "And I'm just as interested in having you fuck me as you are," he added in a seductive whisper.

"I never said I wanted to fuck you," Draco corrected, planning to clear the air. There was no denying his desires, his voice was shaking with them, but there was no way he was letting Harry leave that room and start 'Draco wants to fuck the Boy Who Lived' rumors.

"You implied it," Harry amended, and pressed himself more fully against Draco's body so that he could feel exactly what Harry thought of Draco's proposition.

Draco smirked, and though it was too dark to tell, he imagined Harry was smiling his triumphant Gryffindor grin. He wasn't going to argue any longer; he'd been convinced. Draco maneuvered Harry over to the bed with slow, long strides until the backs of the Gryffindor's knees hit the edge and sent them both topping onto the mattress. "You realize I'm about to ruin your ideas about spectacular sex?" he whispered, his breath ghosting along the shell of Harry's ear. "You're only going to want me from now on."

"Big talk from a man with his clothes still on," Harry challenged, smirking when Draco looked affronted. Still, it accomplished what Harry had intended as Draco began removing his robes. Harry let his gaze wander the smooth, pale expanses of Draco's flesh. He was truly magnificent to look at, but Harry had always known that. It was what made being talked down to by the blond so much more infuriating. The word Mudblood on Malfoy's lips made them look tantalizingly kissable. It had always made it that much more difficult to defend Hermione in school. How are you supposed to insult a boy you wanted so desperately to snog instead?

"Your turn," Draco replied huskily after he'd kicked away the last article of clothing. Harry kept his eyes locked on Draco's as he began to peel away the cheap material of his absurd vampire costume, noting that the blond's eyes were nearly black by the time Harry finished and lay sprawled out nude beneath him. "I've wanted this for longer than you can imagine," he whispered against Harry's exposed collarbone as Draco pressed every inch of their bodies together.

Harry had to do everything in his power not to come right then. Just feeling the blond on top of him, their erections rubbing together in glorious friction, his breath, lips and teeth caressing the surface of Harry's body. He nearly lost it right then, but apparently Draco could sense it, and grabbed Harry's chin, directing him to look Draco squarely in the eyes.

"I'm going to make this last, Potter," he warned. "It's not everyday one finds the hero of our world in their bed."

Harry scowled up at him, trying hard not to be so aroused so he could be indignant instead. "I'm not a hero," he hissed, but Draco only rolled his eyes.

"Hero, vampire, be whatever you want. I couldn't care less, but tonight, you're mine," Draco purred and stifled all of Harry's protests by wrapping his long fingers around Harry's weeping cock.

Harry shuddered and moaned at the touch. He'd never felt anything like it. He couldn't even compare the sensation to the way it felt to wank himself, because Draco's fingers bore no calluses and they were longer and thinner than his own. Even the way he stroked Harry, fluid and tight, was nothing like when Harry stroked himself. Harry bit into his bottom lip and tried desperately to think of whatever he could to keep himself from orgasm, but it wouldn't stop building.

He vaguely felt Draco's hand shift and a satiny graze at the base of his cock and when he looked down, he saw a thin black ribbon tied there, and suddenly he didn't think he could climax if he tried. He groaned in mild frustration, but didn't protest since he wanted this experience to last forever. He'd never felt so alive as he did now under Draco's ministrations.

Harry pouted when he felt the blond's fingers stray, but that glorious hand was quickly replaced by an even more glorious mouth, and Harry couldn't stop the helpless moan that escaped his throat. "Draco," he rasped, pleased by how erotic the name sounded on his lips, so he repeated it over and over again like a chant to encourage the blond on.

Draco, however, needed no encouragement. He'd been fantasizing about the velvet texture of Harry's prick for years. He expected the Gryffindor to be as gifted below the belt as he was above, but even he couldn't have predicted the beauty that the modest man had hidden under his robes all this time. The man was pure sex, and he didn't even realize it, which only made him that much more enchanting.

The Slytherin loved how his name sounded on his old rival's lips, uttered like a reverent poem. As Draco swallowed him down, he absorbed every wanton moan, every guttural cry and every whispered calling of his name, knowing he'd want to remember all of it when his bed had grown cold and Potter's senses had returned to him.

Harry was lost in the feeling of Draco's lips, his tongue, and even the careful graze of his teeth, but not lost enough not to notice when one of Draco's slender digits began circling his entrance. His entire body tensed for a brief moment, but the blond's eyes opened and locked on Harry's, their placid depths calming him at once. It was as if Draco had poured all of his lusty intentions into that gaze, along with the promise of gentle lovemaking, not hurried fucking. Harry knew he was silly to think the blond meant anything of the sort, but his fears were quelled nonetheless.

Draco was clearly practiced in the art of pleasuring another man, because the moment the blond breached him, his finger seemed to hone in on just the place that would make Harry scream. And scream he did, despite the flare of unexpected jealousy that ripped through him. He could feel himself being stretched; feel every ridge of Draco's finger as it caressed his virgin flesh. It felt painful and wonderful at the same time and all Harry wanted was more.

He hadn't even realized he'd been thrusting himself onto Draco's fingers until he looked up to see a smug grin on the blond's face. Harry removed that Slytherin expression the only way he knew how, by surprising the other man. "Fuck me, Draco," Harry demanded, and, as predicted, Draco's eyes widened and his lips parted for an unbridled groan to rip through them.

Harry wasn't prepared for the feeling of being filled. It was strangely intoxicating to realize he was completely out of control and didn't have to feel guilty about it. No one was going to die because he wasn't quick enough, no one would suffer because he hadn't thought of the right spell, he didn't have to think at all, he only had to feel, and he felt surprisingly wonderful. It hurt, but nothing he couldn't handle, and any pain was easily overlooked when Draco hit that spot. "Harry," the blond breathed between thrusts. "I'm going to undo this, but I want you to wait for me before you come," he whispered as he untied the ribbon around the base of Harry's cock.

He'd heard what Draco said, and had every intention of following his orders, but the moment the ribbon was released, it was like a flood of pleasure poured over his entire body and he came so violently that his nails left bleeding half-moons in Draco's back. A moment later, Draco was crying out Harry's name into the air and his head lolled back while his body shuddered with the last of his orgasm.

"I thought I told you to wait," Draco murmured before letting his body collapse atop Harry's.

"Sorry," Harry replied, honestly apologetic that he hadn't been able to do as Draco had asked. "I couldn't help it."

"Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," Draco whispered, smirking against Harry's chest. "We'll work on your endurance next time."

"Next time?" Harry asked, his voice just shy of a squeak. He'd thought for sure that this was just some one-night stand and that Draco had just wanted the chance to bed the famous Harry Potter.

"I was sort of hoping we could make this a…tradition," Draco mused, as if he suddenly felt shy.

"A tradition," Harry repeated, trying to conceal his grin. "You mean, you'd like me to show up on your doorstep asking for a treat next year as well?"

"Maybe it could be a…daily tradition," Draco replied, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. "If you wanted that is, though I would have to check my calendar, of course, and see if I could fit 'boyfriend' into my busy schedule," he amended hastily.

"Of course," Harry agreed with mock seriousness. "Should I check with your secretary then?"

Draco flashed him a brilliant smile and Harry felt as though he could look upon that grin for the rest of his life. "I'm pretty sure I have tomorrow night available, and the rest of the evening tonight as well," he offered. "And it seems I've just had a cancellation for every other night this week."

"It seems I'm in luck then," Harry remarked with a grin, before pulling his lover into a tender kiss. "Who knew you were so attracted to fake plastic fangs?" Harry mused when they broke apart.

"It's been a fetish of mine for ages," Draco admitted sarcastically. "In fact, I might insist you keep them in next time."

Harry laughed, but the laughter quickly died and he shook his head. "I think that might drastically limit what we're able to do together," he pointed out, thinking that he wanted to find out what the blond tasted like and couldn't imagine trying to fit both Draco's cock and the toy teeth in his mouth at once.

"Good point. Lose the fangs," Draco agreed with a wild grin. "But you can bring the chocolate if you like."

"I thought you didn't like sweets," Harry quipped, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

Draco smirked and smoothed his hands through Harry's wild locks. "I like it just fine, but why accept chocolate when I could have you as my treat instead?"

Harry could find no fault in the Slytherin's logic, but he wouldn't dare admit that to the man. So, after making a mental note to thank Ron for holding him to their dare, he just kissed the blond instead.


Author's Note: Happy Halloween. For those of you interested, I'm posting Sleeping Beauty P2 on Monday.