Draco sneered as the hunk-who-lived walked by his seat in potions. Damn him for being so sexy in his charmingly boyish ways. Damn him for making Draco realize that he had been in the proverbial closet his whole life. And damn him for getting Draco hooked on muggle music. The nerve! Though the Scissor Sisters were the best band ever, even counting magical ones, and they cheated. A lot.

Draco glared at the back of Potter's head with its obnoxiously tousled hair for the next hour, cursing fluently when his distraction caused him to dump a cutting board full of lacefly wings instead of the required pile of assorted roots into his potion. Draco couldn't even recall what potion he was supposed to be brewing. Damn that Potter!

Snape glided over to Draco's table when he swore, and though he didn't deduct any points, Draco could tell the professor was not happy. Snape had noticed that his star pupil was no longer living up to his expectations.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheating." He growled, in a temper.

'What? Professor, my potion isn't even correct! Mine's blue, and Hermione's is, like, aqua!" Harry blurted out. Draco sighed at the delightfully outraged expression on Potter's face, then mentally slapped himself. Goyle looked askance at him, thinking that perhaps Draco was finally off his rocker, but Draco glared, sneered and snorted defiantly at the same time, and Goyle was reassured that everything was right in the world. He went back to staring vacantly at anything that crossed his line of vision.

"Well then, ten points for being utterly incapable of brewing a correct potion." Snape said with great relish. The angry cloud hovering above his head dissipated into air already swirling with fumes.

"Now get out, all of you!" He must have been in a good mood now- he hadn't even needed to insult Longbottom to get his spirits up.

Draco lingered by the door as the class scuttled out, telling himself that he only wanted to smell Potter. Nothing indecent like licking his neck or anything like that, no no. He inhaled like a weed addict smoking his last joint when the boy walked by, and almost missed the Weasel asking Harry how he knew the difference between straight blue and that tricky aqua color. Hmm. But Draco was too distracted by Potter's distinct aroma, which reminded him of the handle of a broom and sunshine and sweat and unicorns and treacle tart for this interesting tidbit of color recognition to register.

Draco walked around with an inexplicable smile on his face for some time after The Great Sniff.


"Well of course I can tell the difference between seemingly identical shades of the same color. Can't everyone?" Harry asked as he and Ron walked to lunch.

"Er, no mate. I can barely tell owls apart. They're all brown or grey or whatever color blurs. Thank gods Pig remembers me, or I'd never get any mail." Ron shrugged. "There is that guy on that muggle show you used to watch, what was it? Um, Mission Catwalk?"

"No silly, Operation Runway."

"Yeah! The bloke on that show could always tell when a color was wrong!" Ron was blissfully unaware that he had just accused his friend of watching a fashion show and compared him to a gay man in the same sentence.

"True. Maybe it's just talent." Harry said. Project runway and tivo had made living at the Dursley's bearable, screw threatening Dudley with any spare twig he found on the sidewalk. The pair walked into the great hall for lunch and sat down next to Hermione, who had a book opened on the table and was continuously pushing her hair off the page.

"Hey 'mione. Studying?" Ron asked, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hey guys. Yeah, and you should be too. We've got a major herbology test in three days, and we must be prepared. Professor Sprout said she was impressed with how only one student was sent to the hospital wing last week, but the plants we are studying next need to be handled with extra caution and she doesn't want Madame Pomfrey to start poking around in her greenhouses. We're starting the unit on …"

Hermione continued talking, reading, and eating at the same time while remaining ladylike and proper, but Harry's attention had been drawn elsewhere. Was that a green earbud in Malfoy's ear?


I don't feel like dancin' when the old Joanna plays, my heart could take a chance but my two feet can't find a way. You'd think that I could muster up a little soft shoe gentle sway, but I don't feel like dancin' no sir no dancin' today…


Shit, it was an earbud! Malfoy was currently employing the use of a muggle device. Alert the masses, it's the end of the world as we know it! All of a sudden, Harry was desperate to know what Malfoy was listening to. He stood up abruptly before he realized what he was doing, but pulled a Rico Suave and said,

"Hermione's right. I need to study." And walked in the direction of the library if, to get to the library, he wanted to walk a lap around the school. Which he most certainly did. He was also sure that Ron and Hermione didn't suspect a thing by the way they stared after him in surprise and confusion. Nope, he had duped them both. That warranted a pat on the back- Harry wrote himself a mental note.

His walk led him right past the Slytherin table, which was completely uncalculated. Harry also decided to walk close to the bench for no reason. And peek over Malfoy's shoulder at the iPod in his slender hand, and strain his ears in case Malfoy liked it loud. And rough. And… oops, we're talking about music. In case Malfoy was deaf.

Harry's efforts were rewarded with a song title- I don't feel like dancin'. Oh snap, Malfoy was listening to the Scissor Sisters. Malfoy. The blonde. Was listening to the song with the music video of a blonde singer. Who swung his hips. Wearing tight purple leather. And sang. Oh snap. Harry was in trouble.


Fifteen minutes later, Harry emerged from behind the heavily-spelled curtains on his four-poster with a lazy grin and unbuttoned jeans. The grin stayed plastered to his face as he slipped the bit of metal through its designated hole, wincing good naturedly as his wrist twinged in complaint. He decided that it was perfectly okay to wank to daydreams of Malfoy dressed in purple leather and swiveling his hips in that delightfully sinful way, and had proceeded to do so. Twice.

Harry gathered his books for his afternoon classes into his bag and took off for defense against the dark arts. He couldn't even bring himself to feel the usual resigned annoyance he associated with this class- Dumbledore had found a slight, floaty sort of witch to teach it, and Harry rather thought she would add to the ambiance of the divination tower nicely.

Harry went anyhow, and stared at Draco's ass all period and imagined it clad in purple. It was odd that the Gryffindors had so many classes with the Slytherins this year… Not that Harry was complaining. The random bursts of hexes kept him on his toes, and when they would really go at it Draco' panting would do strange things to Harry's insides. Harry almost giggled at the memory of their last fight- Draco had landed on top of Harry when a spell had misfired, chest to chest, and the look on Draco's face had made Harry's day. Surprise? Check. Embarrassment? You got it. The infamous Malfoy smirk to cover it all up? Of course.


What was Potter grinning at now? The great oaf was making Draco's annoyance at the new professor drain out of his system, and we couldn't have that. He almost made Draco want to grin back. Mortifying. Like that time he'd been dueling with the boy-who-wouldn't-take-the-hint and had tackled the git to the flagstones.

He'd certainly been in a compromising situation then. Who knew seeing Harry unleashing the powerful side of himself in the duel would be a turn on? He had prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that week for Harry to not have felt the erection Draco had tried not to rub into the boy's hipbone. Or hear the moan he'd let slip through his clenched jaw when he'd failed. Gods, that git was going to be the downfall of Draco's tower of untouchable arrogance. And then where would he be? Minionless!


That night, lying in the bed he had defiled earlier, Harry decided that he needed to know what other music Draco had on that little iPod of his. Who knows, maybe he would get lucky and Draco would be an Adam Lambert fan too- If he had For Your Entertainment on that thing, Harry was going to throw down and wank wherever he found out. After this titillating thought, Harry decided he needed to know now, so the Slytherin common room better be empty. He rolled out of bed and tossed the invisibility cloak over himself in a convincing impersonation of count Dracula.

"I've come to suck your… blood," he whispered, and swirled out the door.


Wait, why the hell did Potter smell like unicorns? Well, I like aqua better when Harry says it anyway… Were Draco's last thoughts as he fell asleep.


Sliding through the corridors like a snake through the plumbing, Harry stole through Hogwarts and then tripped gracelessly over Neville.

"What are you doing, Neville?"

"Harry? Where are you?"

"Right here."

"Oh, Merlin, that's weird."

"Why are you awake?"

"Oh, um, well, you see, Luna wanted to… talk, yes, talk, and—"

"Look, I'm happy for you, mate. For you both. You might want to button your shirt up in the right holes next time, though. Makes the whole talking business a lot more believable," Harry said, and rushed off before Neville could ask him why he was out after curfew.

Harry ran down deeper into the belly of the school, and then on to the bowels. Oh, excuse me, the dungeons. He jumped through the portal into the Slytherin common room and flicked his head wildly around to get his bearings. The Slytherin common room looked a lot like the Gryffindor one, except for the obvious. The colors were green and silver, the chairs looked a lot less comfy, the air smelled of arrogance and ink, and the pictures of wizards on the walls were all sneering purebloods. Lovely.

Harry spied a corridor leading off of the main room, and headed down it. Each door along the wall had a plaque with two or three names written on them- Harry spotted Malfoy's because it as the only one with a single name on the little silver medallion. Of course.

Harry tried the door handle and almost fell over when it opened. How did he get the entire Slytherin house to make an unbreakable vow not to touch his stuff? Malfoy would have never left the door unlocked in any other circumstances. Harry shrugged, and focused on the mission at hand- finding Draco's iPod.

Now, if I were Draco's iPod, where would I be? Harry thought childishly. He waved his wand and whispered Accio iPod! instead, and a green iPod came whizzing out from inside a drawer in Malfoy's bedside table. Harry jerked his head towards the slumbering blonde as the drawer squeaked open, but he did little more than twitch in his sleep. Harry patted himself on the back once for earlier, then again for finding Draco's iPod without disaster.

Harry noticed that Draco looked a lot calmer, happier, when he was asleep. It suited him. But it also made him look more like the singer in that music video, and Harry hastily flipped the iPod out of locked mode and thumped down onto the floor to flip through Malfoy's music library.

Draco's restless sleep made Harry stare excessively at him for long periods of time whenever he moved, but the gazing can't be solely blamed on Draco's movement. Harry noticed the pout of the blonde's lips, the bones of his face, the soft hair splayed across the pillow, the hand delicately curved around his cheek.

Song by song, Harry scrolled through Draco's music. He must have just gotten the gadget- there weren't many songs on it. Harry smiled when he slid past Paparazzi by Lady Gaga, smirked at Ain't no rest for the wicked, felt his eyes widen at the long list of Maroon 5, and groaned at the three Adam Lambert songs- If I had you, Whataya want from me, and For your entertainment. Imagining Draco listening to this… Harry felt his breathing quicken, felt the heat pool between his thighs. He was royally screwed.


"Fuck, Harry!" Draco moaned as he fisted his hands in Harry's black hair. Green eyes stared up into grey ones as the Chosen One licked a stripe up Draco's cock and chuckled.

"Patience, my pet, shall be rewarded." He said in a low voice, and moved his tongue to Draco's balls. He gave them the same treatment, and Draco threw his head back as sensation shot through his body. Harry's fingers wandered lower, tracing around Draco's arse before sliding back up. One hand took his mouths' place to fondle Draco's balls as Harry moved back to Draco's cock, and the other fisted the base as Harry started sucking in earnest.

"Oh, Salazar, Harry!" Draco gasped as his cock hit the back of the boy's throat. Gods he was talented with that hot mouth of his, with his scorching eyes looking up at me through those dark lashes, with my hands pulling his hair, with him making those delicious slurping noises, with…

"Hah-Harry, I'm gonna come," Draco said, his voice strained with need. Harry sucked Draco's cock deeper with determination, and Draco's moan woke himself up.


"Bloody hell, fucking shit, ooh..." Draco muttered as he woke up from his third dream about Harry and himself in a compromising situation in a week. He was drenched in sweat, his fingers tangled in his own hair, and he was still hard. "Damn you Harry Potter!"

"Now Draco, is that really what you want to say right now?" A soft, burning voice murmured from the shadows at the end of Draco's bed. Draco nearly had a heart attack.


Harry couldn't help himself. He had been ready to whip out his cock then and there next to Malfoy's bed with For your entertainment playing, but then Malfoy had started moaning. Not nightmare moans, sexy, deep moans, and Harry was stunned. The boy was twisting in bed, thrusting his hips and arching his back sensually, and Harry could only watch. Only when Draco tugged at his own hair and moaned 'Harry' did the lust become too much for the poor boy to handle. He had performed admirably, but resistance was futile.


"Who's there?" Draco hissed into the black room. The downside to living in the dungeons was that there were no windows to let in moonlight. Or fresh air.

"It's me, Draco. Don't you recognize me?" Said the voice playfully, and Draco felt fingers tentatively trace his thighs through the sheet. "You should, I must have just had my mouth around your cock," The fingers moved to squeeze his erect dick, and Draco thrust into them even as he tried to resist. He had been so close to release in his dream…

Wait, his dream. His dream, in which Harry fucking Potter had been sucking him off. Oh snap, the shit had officially hit the fan.

"Potter." Draco said with as much venom as possible. "Get the fuck out."

"No, I don't think I will. I don't think I want to." Harry's voice said, and the sheets covering Draco were pulled off of him suddenly. "I don't think you really want me to go, either." Harry resumed tracing Draco's thighs, and Draco felt the weight on the bed shift.

"Do you?" Harry whispered, and the hot breath ghosting across Draco's cock made him shudder and bite his lip. "Didn't think so." The smirk in the Gryffindor's voice almost pulled Draco out of his lust- induced spell, but Harry licked the head of his cock and all thoughts were lost.

"Harry, what the hell are shit! …You doing?" Draco said, forcing the words out between panted breaths in a strained voice.

"I would have thought it was obvious. Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?" Harry mumbled against Draco's hip before sucking the blonde's dick into his mouth. Draco came a minute later, stifling his moans against his arm. Harry pulled away with a grin Draco couldn't see in the dark, and laid his hands on Draco's trembling legs.

"So, was I better than your dream?" Harry asked saucily.

"Loads." Draco said deliriously, momentarily forgetting that his enemy had just given him a blowjob and he had allowed it. He felt the bed rocking and then heard Potter moan long and low- he had apparently just jerked off, and Draco was strangely disappointed he wasn't given the chance to help him with it.

"Harry…" Draco sighed.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Stay with me. Tonight. Sleep here…" Draco fell asleep midsentence, when he felt Harry crawl up the bed and wrap his arms around his shoulders.

How dead will I be in the morning? Harry asked without an ounce of anxiety, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Author's Note: This went a completely unplanned M rated direction. Oops.