Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. If I did, I would be busy writing a Marauder era series filled with plenty of filthy exploits that would no doubt scar and traumatize any children unfortunate enough to read it…and mostly likely plenty of adults as well. Suffice it to say, JKR owns this world, and that's probably for the best. With great power comes great responsibility, and all that jazz.

Set post DH in Harry and Hermione's 8th year (Ron did not go back to school with them—mainly because I didn't feel like writing him in, also because, who are we kidding, Ron hates school). Possibly OOC, or maybe just me using a little artistic license. Definitely not Epilogue compliant.

Warnings: Slash. My first slash, actually, and a fairly graphic one at that (hey, if you're gonna do a thing, do it properly, right?). Flames, while amusing, are not entirely necessary. How about this, if you don't like slash, don't read this. Agreed? Brilliant. The rest of you…be gentle, it's my first time. ;-I

As Yet Undefined

Draco Malfoy was definitely hiding something.

Harry sat rigid in his seat, disinterestedly pushing his dinner around on his plate while covertly watching the Slytherin table through the messy hair that fell across his bright eyes. Across the Hall, the older Slytherin students sat together, exchanging darkly amused looks and whispering back and forth, their eyes darting between the Boy Who Lived (Again) and Draco. His icy blond head hung low, only lifting occasionally to shoot angry glares at his amused housemates.

This behavior had been going on for several days, and Harry's curiosity was beyond piqued. Every time he entered a classroom, the looks and whispers would start; the noise disturbingly similar to that of a viper pit, and the atmosphere just as welcoming. Draco would shoot warning glares at his classmates, avoiding any eye contact with Harry and keeping his mouth uncharacteristically shut. He tried to brush it off, desperate for a bit of peace for once, but minding his own business was never Harry's strong point.

He broached the topic with Hermione that night in the common room. He'd barely uttered the first syllable when she, knowing him as well as she knew herself, cut him off.

"Yes, Harry, I think something's going on in Slytherin—something that most likely involves Draco Malfoy." She continued working on her Charms essay, casually tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, but the odd way she avoided his gaze hinted at something else…she was clearly holding back.

"And me." Harry watched her closely, noting the tension in her shoulders, the awkward tilt of her head, and calculating narrowing of her eyes.

Hermione nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "And you."

"Well, then I've got to do something. I mean, I do, don't I?"

She let out a tired sigh, finally turning to face him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I don't think this is anything…dangerous. I mean…oh hell. I don't know, I just don't think you should worry. It's probably nothing."

"How do you know? Come on, Mione, what aren't you telling me, here?"

Smiling softly, she combed her fingers through his messy fringe, smoothing the locks across his forehead and out of his eyes. "I don't really know anything, of course, just…women's intuition, I suppose."

Harry nodded. "Okay, whatever you say." He then kissed her temple as he rose from the couch. "I'm knackered. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Sweet dreams, Harry."

He smiled at the inside joke, taking yet another moment to internally celebrate the absence of nightmares since Voldemort's death. "G'night, Mione."

He trudged up to his dorm, checking quickly for his roommates before digging beneath his mattress and retrieving his invisibility cloak. It wasn't that he didn't trust Hermione—of course he did. He'd trusted her with his life, on many occasions, and had no reason to doubt her intuition, if that's really all it was. This was simply about satisfying his own overwhelming curiosity…and maybe needing a little espionage to break up the monotony of school life.

Quickly scanning the marauder's map, he was momentarily stunned to find Draco in the library, seemingly alone. Knowing it would be closing soon, Harry slipped under his cloak, stowed the map, and headed quietly down the stairs and through the common room, passing by a still-studying Hermione. He was too preoccupied with maneuvering through housemates to notice the small smile and exasperated sigh from her as he passed by. She chuckled lightly as the portrait swung shut behind him, uttering "So predictable" softly under her breath.

Harry met up with Draco just as he was leaving, and the Slytherin was definitely alone. Harry waited until he passed, putting a good distance between them before following him down shifting staircases and through empty corridors to the drafty dungeons below. Draco muttered the password at a blank stretch of wall, revealing the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Harry suppressed his irritation over the choice of password ('resurgence') and stealthily followed the blond into the dimly lit, green-tinted room. Draco surprised him, once again, by passing by the group of seventh and eighth years by the fire and heading straight for the dormitories.

Draco had been moving so steadily since leaving the library that Harry nearly ran straight into him when he stopped short just a few steps into the dorm, a low growl building deep in his chest.

"Oh this is bloody brilliant. Very clever, you stupid bastards..." Draco's voice rang out harsh and bitter, his fists clenching at his sides.

For one awful second, Harry thought he'd been discovered. Tensing for an attack, his wand clutched tightly, he held his breath as Draco moved forward into the room, exposing a rather odd scene, indeed. Pictures from various magazines and newspapers covered the wall behind one of the four posters, with a few hanging from the canopy to dangle over the bed. Draco ripped one down, scanning it briefly before cursing under his breath and pacing the room, tugging at his hair in frustration. Harry moved closer to examine the photographs, while Draco leaned against the far wall, burying his face in his hands, muffling the low string of curses pouring from his mouth.

At the same moment that Harry recognized his own face from the countless photographs, the door opened, admitting a group of students led by Blaise Zabini. The dark boy smirked broadly when he caught sight of Draco.

"Hey there, mate. Don't you like our little present? We thought you could use some new material."

Draco's head jerked up at Zabini's entrance, his silver eyes narrowed and focused on the arrogant boy so intently Harry half expected him to burst into flames. "Sod off, Zabini."

The other boys just laughed, completely unfazed by Draco's fury. "Have it your way, mate. Enjoy your evening, yeah?" Zabini winked at the scowling blond, whose pale cheeks had flushed a delicate pink, before turning and following the rest of the boys back into the common room.

Harry stood, dumbfounded and rooted to the spot next to the massive collage, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. His eyes darted between the make-shift shrine over the bed and Draco's flushed cheeks. He was startled out of his puzzled contemplation when Draco let out a frustrated yell, crumpling the picture he held in his fist and kicking the wall behind him. Harry watched as the color slowly faded from his face, seemingly draining the anger away with it and leaving something odd in its place. He looked…sad. Hopeless and maybe a tad resigned. Draco looked down at the crumpled photo in his fist, a large color one obviously out of some trashy wizarding gossip rag, and sighed. He slumped down the wall until he was sitting and leaning against it, then spread the photo open on the floor, pressing the wrinkles out with slow, precise movements.

Draco methodically smoothed the picture against the floor, his eyes taking on a softness Harry had never seen in him before, a vulnerability Harry never would have dreamed him capable of. Strange, unwanted emotions began stirring in Harry's chest in a tingling, swooping torrent of confusion, peaking just as Draco blinked watery eyes and dropped his head dejectedly into his hands, letting loose a muffled sob.

Harry's heart lurched unpleasantly and his head spun with a strange lightness. It wasn't until his lungs began to burn that he realized he'd stopped breathing. Gulping in a harsh breath, thankfully masked by the strangled sounds of self-loathing still coming from Draco, Harry shook himself out of his emotional stupor and did the only sane thing he could do; he ran.


To Hermione's credit, she waited almost an entire 24 hours before confronting Harry on his noticeably shaken demeanor. After a completely silent dinner consisting mostly of Harry stealing glances at the Slytherin table and blushing furiously, she wordlessly took him by the arm and led him down a hall and into an unused classroom, shutting and locking the door behind them, with a quick muffliato thrown in for good measure.

"Alright Harry—talk." She sat calmly on a dusty table, patting the spot beside her which Harry promptly filled.

"Well, how much do you already know?"

Hermione sighed. "I told you, I don't know anything. I've inferred quite a bit, but none of it has been substantiated just yet. Namely, that you spied on Draco Malfoy last night, and most likely discovered something unsettling about him. Probably that he's a great big poofter who wants to shag your brains out."

Harry's jaw dropped as his cheeks colored for about the millionth time that day. "How did…no, I really shouldn't be surprised, should I? You really do know everything."

She laughed, shaking her head and taking Harry's hand, threading her fingers through his. "Not everything, Harry, but I'm not blind, either. I've seen the way he looks at you, or…well, used to, anyway. He's been avoiding you like the plague this week; I'm guessing his housemates found out?"

Harry nodded, and she sighed a little sadly. "Yes, that would explain everything. Poor Malfoy."

He spluttered at this. "Poor—Hermione, are you forgetting who we're talking about, here? Poor Malfoy?"

Rolling her eyes, she replied "Oh please Harry. He's not nearly as evil as we always made him out to be. Just think about all the times he had a chance to do something really horrible, but didn't. He wouldn't identify us at the manor, he wouldn't curse you, or let Crabbe, in the Room of Requirement, he wouldn't kill Dumbledore…clearly he's not some dark lord in the making."

"No, you're right; he's not evil. He's a coward. I can't decide which is worst, honestly."

"You don't mean that."

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. "No, I don't. This is just…weird."

"It actually makes a lot of sense. I mean, he wanted to be your friend first year, didn't he?"

Harry nodded, feeling a small knot form in the pit of his stomach.

"And he's been insanely jealous of you ever since then, and he absolutely hates Ron and me, the two people closest to you. I mean, granted, he probably would have hated us regardless…"

"Okay, so Malfoy…fancies me."

"Yes. But what's really important here, what really matters, is how you feel about him."

When this comment was only met with more spluttering, she continued. "Maybe we should start a little broader. Have you ever fantasized about being with another boy?"

Harry's cheeks flamed red and his mouth opened, but the only sound that emerged was a sort of terrified squeak.

"Alright, I'll take that as a yes. Have you ever specifically thought about Malfoy?"

"Er…" Hermione seemed encouraged that he was producing sounds comparatively closer to an actual language again, so she squeezed his hand and continued her questioning.

"Last night, after you found out, did you think about it? I mean, it's perfectly natural to be curious about these things, especially after finding out that another boy fancies you. So, did you think about Malfoy last night, about what it might be like?"

"Er, um…yeah. I did."

Hermione beamed. "And? Did it turn you on?"

At this Harry hopped down off the desk, throwing his hands in the air. "Okay, enough. I'm sorry, but this is too weird!"

Far from being offended, Hermione laughed, grabbing Harry's cloak and pulling him to her for a hug. "I know it's weird, but who else are you going to talk to about it? Would you like to owl Ron?"

Harry blanched and pulled away wearing a look of horror. "Merlin, Ron…he's going to freak out! What if…" Here his voice dropped to a whisper, "Hermione, what if I'm gay?"

Reaching for his hand again, she smiled up at him. "If you are, it won't matter to anyone who really cares about you. And that includes Ron. He'd be weird about it for a little while, maybe, but he'd be there for you in the end. And I think you know I'd be fine with it. I just want you to be happy. You're a beautiful person, Harry James Potter, and you deserve to be happy."

Harry pulled Hermione to him in a tight hug, overcome with affection and gratitude for the small girl in his arms. He decided he could handle pretty much anything with support from his friends—including some slightly disturbing feelings for the amazing bouncing ferret.


The next morning, Harry was standing with Hermione outside the greenhouses, waiting for Professor Sprout to start their Herbology lesson when a group of Slytherins rounded the corner, a familiar flaxen head bringing up the rear. Quite a few faces lit up with malicious glee when they spotted Harry, and Blaise cast a glance over his shoulder, locating Malfoy before slowing his gait, hanging back a little and letting the rest of the class pass him. As Draco was walking past Harry and Hermione, Blaise cast a silent and well-timed tripping hex, sending the sulking blond flying into Harry.

Harry had been more or less ready, expecting something of the sort, and caught him easily, keeping them both from falling into the mud. Draco immediately tensed, jerking his hands away from where they'd landed on Harry's hips as though burnt, while the Slytherins howled with laughter.

"Oi, Draco—way to cop a feel! Aim a little lower next time!"

Harry's eyes moved past Draco's flushed cheeks, narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, past the sympathetic and slightly indignant expression on Hermione's face, and locked onto the dark brown eyes of Blaise Zabini. His laughter died at the look on Harry's face, his smile faltering more and more with each determined step Harry took towards him. Harry reached him and kept coming, causing Blaise to stumble backwards until snagging his heal on a protruding rock, sending him flailing into a particularly wet patch of mud, dark and fresh from the morning's rain.

Blaise scowled at the thick mud coating his expensive robes, but the expression faded into fearful anxiety as Harry towered over him, his green eyes flashing dangerously, his body taut as a bow and positively humming with magic in his anger.

"Enough." He barely spoke over a whisper, but his voice carried through the silent crowd none-the-less.

Blaise opened his mouth to speak but, thinking better of it, closed it again with a snap. A barely perceptible nod was the only confirmation of his compliance, but it was enough. Harry held his gaze on the boy for a moment longer before silently turning and walking back to his spot near Hermione, where Draco Malfoy still stood, frozen and gaping, eyes wide and, for the first time in days, staring straight at Harry.


The next few weeks were acutely uncomfortable. It seemed as though the Slytherins had, in fact, abandoned their attempts at tormenting Malfoy, but still, few were friendly with him anymore. Draco resumed his attempts at ignoring Harry, but his eyes would still frequently drift to the familiar messy black hair, seemingly of their own accord. Every time Harry looked up to meet silver eyes locked on his, Draco would snap out of it, sneering at Harry and jerking his gaze away, usually muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

This in itself was odd, but the oddest occurrences were happening at night in Harry's dorm. For some time following the death of Voldemort, Harry's usually horrific dreams had morphed into colorful, nonsensical adventures, something akin to muggle cartoons. But recently, ever since his confrontation with Zabini, Harry's dreams were of a much different nature.

He woke up early one morning from just such a dream, sweaty and panting and painfully hard. He slipped out of his bed and into the empty bathroom to shower, trying very hard not to remember the dream. However, his not-so-little problem down south was not dissipating anytime soon, so with a muttered "Oh, sod it," he gripped his erection tightly, stroking himself roughly, angrily, as the images from his dream filled his mind, unbidden. As soon as he remembered his dream-self forcefully bending Malfoy over a table in the potions classroom, he came almost violently all over his hand, panting and shaken and finally resigned to the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to shag Draco Malfoy's ferret brains out.



Draco was staring at Harry during Transfiguration again, and once more, Harry caught him. The usual sneering and muttering ensued, with Malfoy taking out his frustration on the pillow they were supposed to be transfiguring into a dog, jabbing his wand with a bit too must zest, causing the pillow to burst, showering half the class in tiny, white feathers.

McGonagall sighed, casting her eyes heavenward and asking Merlin for strength before approaching the embarrassed blond and, in the midst of a stern lecture, deducting 20 house points.

Draco was feeling angry and humiliated, but when he raised his head to find Harry smiling warmly at him, his hair and robes lightly dusted with down, he forgot to sneer his false irritation and instead smiled back, laughing lightly. The shock that flitted across Harry's features reminded him that he was not ever supposed to be smiling at Harry Potter, and he compensated for his mistake with a particularly vicious scowl. Harry sighed, the smile fading from his face as he shook his head slowly and rolled his eyes.

Class let out a few minutes later, and Draco was the last to leave, having stayed behind to clear up the last of the feathers. He was halfway down the near deserted hall, when a hand reached out and grabbed his robes, pulling him into an empty classroom and closing the door behind them.

He was reaching for his wand, preparing for a fight, when he spun around to find Harry looking pale, determined, and slightly absurd with a few small feathers still tangled in his unruly black hair.

A moment of awkward silence ensued, during which Harry cleared his throat several times, opening his mouth to speak, but failing again and again.

Draco rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall in a show of indifference that almost had Harry fooled. "Spit it out, Potter; what do you want?"

Harry made a little sound of frustration, scuffing his shoes against the stone floor childishly. "Congratulations, Malfoy; you've finally done it. You've driven me completely mad."

"What are you on about? You've always been mad; I can't take credit for that, much as I'd love to." Malfoy spoke with the familiar disdain he'd reserved for Harry all these years, but his eyes were nervously scanning the room, never looking in his direction.

Harry took a tentative step forward, watching Draco closely to gauge his reactions. "Are you afraid to look at me, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes automatically darted to Harry's and then away again quickly, a muscle in his jaw twitching visibly. "No." He winced at his sullen tone, knowing it was as good as a confession. "Look, Potter—I don't know what you've heard about me, but it's not true."

He didn't have to look at Harry to know he was smirking. "If you don't know what I've heard, how can you know whether it's true or not? And who said I heard anything? Maybe I just want to talk."

Draco then made the mistake of looking Harry in the eyes, and soon found himself incapable of looking away again. Harry's gaze was intense, heated and conflicted. He watched, frozen, as Harry took a step closer, so close that Malfoy could count his eyelashes, could see the subtle flecks of royal blue beneath the vibrant green of his eyes. When he spoke, Malfoy's voice came out so much weaker than he'd intended. "What did you want to talk about?"

Draco watched the resolve build behind those eyes as Harry nervously darted his tongue out to wet his lips.


And then they were kissing. Although, to say that what they were doing was 'kissing' seemed so wrong, so inadequate. It was a battle of wills, a desperate give and take of frustration and excitement, a purging of long-unacknowledged need. It was a clash of teeth and skin, of hands and hips and hot breath puffing and mingling in the nonexistent space between them. It was awkward, it was fumbling…it was perfect.

Harry hadn't realized they'd been moving until the back of his thighs bumped against a table, and Draco used his moment of confusion to push him down to sit on the edge, his thighs apart while the lean blond insinuated himself between them, pulling Harry's hips forward until their pelvis' locked together tightly.

Harry moaned at the contact while Draco brought a hand up to the back of Harry's head, gripping his hair and tugging sharply to turn his face up for another bruising kiss. Their hands began to wander again, pushing each other's robes off their shoulders, loosening ties and working open buttons, all the while Draco moved his attention to Harry's neck, licking and sucking and biting his way down to his exposed collar bones, tracing the sharp lines with his tongue and a light scraping of his teeth.

Harry's breath caught in his throat when Malfoy dropped to his knees, his pale hands flying to Harry's belt, tugging it open and undoing his trousers while his tongue drew teasing circles against Harry's taut abdomen. If Harry had been thinking clearly, he probably would have been nervous. He might have protested when Draco yanked on his trousers, dragging them down and off, dislodging his shoes with his insistent tugging. But Harry wasn't thinking clearly. His brain was fogged and muddled by the hypnotic way Draco's eyes seemed to swirl and darken like mercury. He'd never known gray could be such a warm color, but he was sure he was scorching under Draco's heated gaze.

When Draco took Harry's bare cock in his slightly rough hand, Harry's nerves kicked into gear long enough for a split second of fear before he was encased in soft, wet warmth. He fought to keep his eyes from rolling back so as not to miss the glorious sight of Draco's delicate pink lips wrapped tightly around him as he lowered his mouth, taking more and more of Harry in until he gagged, inexpertly choking on Harry's length as his head bumped against the back of Draco's throat.

Harry moaned deep in his chest, threading his fingers through Draco's wonderfully soft, blond locks as he set an easy rhythm that soon had Harry's vision blurring. Draco explored Harry's body with one hand while he sucked and stroked him with his mouth, trailing warm fingers down to tug lightly at Harry's scrotum before moving further back, finding and circling the tight ring of muscles before pushing a finger inside.

Harry cried out, half in surprise and half in near-maddening pleasure as Draco pumped in and out in time with the sliding movements of his mouth, eventually adding a second finger, and then a third. He waited until he could feel Harry growing impossibly harder, when his grip in Draco's hair was becoming painful, before curling his fingers in, brushing firmly against a soft, spongy spot that made Harry cry out loudly, jerk his hips wildy, and empty himself deep in Draco's mouth in several hot spurts.

Harry fell back against the desk with one arm flung over his eyes, panting heavily while Draco stood, relieving the pressure on his aching knees, though he was just now aware of it at all. He kissed his way up Harry's abdomen, between the sides of his open shirt, up his neck and across his jaw to nip lightly at Harry's full, lower lip.

Harry lowered his arm from his eyes, taking in Draco's red and swollen lips and dark, intense eyes before gripping the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss. The kiss lasted only a moment, though, before Draco pulled back and, questioningly, started tugging on Harry's shoulder, wordlessly asking him to turn over.

Harry had a moment of panic, remembering that in his vision, he was the one bending Malfoy over desks, and not the other way around. Before he could work up a protest, though, his eyes lowered to Draco's exposed lower body, taking in the line of coarse, dark blond hairs leading a very happy trail to a very happy cock, the pink tip glistening wetly with smeared precome. He swallowed nervously, noting the impressive size and girth, but unable to deny his desire as his own spent cock gave a small twitch at the thought of Draco inside him.

Clearing his throat, he looked back up to Draco's face, which was now tinted with that same vulnerability he'd seen in the dorms. Swallowing his fear, he spoke in a soft voice, "Don't we need…?"

The insecurity vanished from Draco's face like the clearing of smoke from a bright room, and he quickly retrieved his wand from the pile of robes on the floor, muttering a quiet charm while Harry turned to face the table, leaning forward and clutching the sides, feeling ridiculously exposed, yet hopelessly aroused.

Harry let out a soft, involuntary whimper when he felt the head of Draco's cock at his arse, and Draco paused, leaning forward until his face rested against Harry's shoulder blade, his hands gripping Harry's hips firmly, but gently. Kissing Harry's shoulder tenderly, he pushed forward in one, deep stroke, burying himself to the hilt in slick heat.

Harry's hips bucked at the intrusion, but Draco held him still, giving the muscles time to adjust as he gasped a string of low profanities against Harry's neck. When Harry stilled, Draco moved one hand around Harry's waist and slid it up and across his chest, gripping his shoulder from behind. The other hand again moved around Harry's waist, but down this time, opting to grip Harry's renewed erection gently.

Harry pushed back against Draco, wordlessly urging him to move—a command Draco was quick to follow. He pulled back, experimentally driving forward again with agonizingly slow movements, causing Harry to buck and whimper beneath him. Draco continued at this pace, completely mesmerized by the intense feeling of Harry's body all around him, but quickly snapped out of it when Harry choked out in a rough whisper, "Harder."

As though that word had woken him from a trance, Draco gripped Harry tightly, now thrusting forcefully and fast as the joining of their bodies made loud slapping noises that echoed obscenely off the bare, stone walls.

The very small part of Draco's brain that was still capable of rational thought worried about hurting Harry, until he heard him cry out in a strained voice, "God, yes—harder!"

Draco moaned loudly at Harry's command, immediately driving himself harder and faster while the force of his movements caused Harry's cock to thrust in and out of Draco's hand where he still gripped him tightly from behind.

Draco could feel his release building in the pit of his stomach, growing and surging through his body from the tips of his toes up to his hair follicles, lighting his skin on fire and causing his vision to blur as beads of sweat formed and then rolled down his flushed skin, cooling in the drafty classroom and sending him into sensory overload with the contrasting sensations. He tightened his grip on Harry's cock, angled his hips down and latched onto Harry's shoulder with gleaming white teeth as he buried himself twice more, crying out against Harry's skin as they climaxed together, Harry's body jerking and clenching in time with his.

Harry, again, slumped against the table, bringing Draco down with him, where they lay a moment, catching their breath. Draco was the first to move, gingerly removing himself from Harry and turning around to gather his things, muttering a soft cleansing spell before pulling on his clothes again, his back to Harry all the while.

Harry watched Draco dress, absentmindedly gathering and putting on his own things, buttoning his shirt improperly in his distraction. The awkwardness hung heavy like thick smog in the quiet room, the only sounds the slide of fabric and the soft shuffle of feet and shoes on stone. Draco was dressed well before Harry had finished. He turned his head towards Harry, not quite meeting his gaze before turning and wordlessly heading for the door.

Just as he opened it and was hurriedly moving through, Harry called out to him.


Draco paused, turning his head to the side enough that Harry could just make out his profile, his eyes cast down to the floor.

When he did not reply, Harry cleared his throat and continued, knowing he had once chance to keep Draco's defensive walls from shutting him out forever. "I just thought…er, maybe you'd like to sit with me at dinner?"

Harry saw Draco's jaw tighten, his lips purse against the smile that was threatening to break though.

"What, at the Gryffindor table, with you and Granger?" In front of everyone? His unspoken question hung in the air between them.

Harry smiled. "Yeah."

Harry saw Draco's smile break through just before he turned his blond head away, facing out into the empty hallway. "Sure, Potter. Whatever."

Harry bit back a laugh at Draco's feigned indifference, the desperately casual shrug of his shoulders not the least bit convincing, but, knowing that Draco needed him to play along, he allowed the illusion. "Alright, then. See you at eight."

Draco turned and finally looked at him, allowing himself a broad, dazzling smile. "Yeah. Later, Harry." Then he turned and swiftly left the room.

Harry leaned back against the table, his face split in a lazy grin, his voice soft. "Later, Draco."

A/N: Okay, so I'm student teaching this semester, and my fourth graders' spelling list for the week included several words that inspired the crazy HP fangirl in me—common (my brain immediately supplying 'room' at the end), gallon (which I automatically read as 'galleon'), dragon, lion, and—the clincher—lemon. Needless to say, I deduced that God, or the Universe or whoever, was commanding me to write a smutty slash fic. So…here it is. Hope I didn't botch it. Let me know, will you? Thanks, as always, for reading.

PS—for those following Guilt and/or Equilibrium: they have not been abandoned, I swear! In fact, I promise to have each updated by this time next week. If I don't, you can charge Talipatra with hunting me down and administering the systematic torture appropriate for such an offense. ;-I