Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing with JKR's toys.
Author's Note: I was channel surfing the other week (well, it was the other week when I started writing this, but its probably about two years ago now) and I came across the game 'Gay Chicken'. For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, it involves a couple of (supposedly) straight men, who get together (with, I presume, a large quantity of beer) and (according to my brief research) move closer and closer to each other (with the intention of kissing) until one backs down and is then dubbed 'gay chicken'. It is similar to the game 'chicken' which is usually played with cars.
HOWEVER, in the program I saw (according to my friend it was Sexcetera on Virgin 1 – in case you're interested), this game went far beyond kissing and included rather a lot of groping. And I was inspired. What, pray tell, would happen if Harry and Draco found themselves playing gay chicken?
So, if you (like me) are intrigued to find out what might happen, then read on. If not, you might want to head out now.
Warning: Contains silliness and SLASH. Rated M for a reason.
Harry took another sip of his vodka, cringing at the taste. They had run out of mixers some time ago and the only alcohol left was in the form of straight spirits. Clearly the Gryffindor seventh year inter-house Christmas party had been a success.
He glanced up at the table to see if there was anything slightly more palatable, but it seemed that the only thing left was vodka. And not even the good stuff. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he took another slug of the supermarket own-brand booze.
Harry knew he was drunk, but he had reached the stage of drunkenness when the most logical course of action appears to involve more alcohol, no matter the taste. He stared at his legs through the bottom of his glass, fascinated by the way they were distorted. In fact, he was so distracted that it was several minutes before he realised that a new game (following on from 'Truth or Dare' and 'I've Never...') had begun around him.
Trying to appear more sentient than he actually was, Harry looked curiously around the gathered students in a vain attempt to work out what was going on. What he saw, was Dean Thomas, nose to nose with Ron. They appeared to be inching infinitesimally closer to one another, grimaces fixed firmly on their faces. Harry had to admit to himself that he was confused.
Realising that the only way to make sense of things would be to have another drink, Harry pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and wobbled across to fill his glass with yet more vodka. He still had his back to the congregated students, attention focused solely on the intricate task of pouring without spilling, when a cheer rose up from behind him.
He very almost dropped his drink. The bottle wasn't so lucky and clattered noisily onto the table. Harry stared at it in horror until he noticed the bottle was now empty. No alcohol had been spilt. All was well.
With a contented smile, Harry returned to the circle, watching, slightly bemused, as Ron was taunted mercilessly by their classmates. Dean looked rather proud. Harry, however, still couldn't see what the fuss was about.
He was still trying to work it out when Dean called his name. Glancing up, he was surprised to see that Dean wasn't looking at him. Following his roommates gaze, Harry found himself staring at Draco Malfoy, who was seething. Harry gulped at the look on Malfoy's face, which was aimed directly at him. What had he done now?
Returning his gaze to Dean, Harry tried to put together all the information he had, which wasn't much. For a moment he let his gaze flit between Dean and Malfoy, trying to fill in the gaps, but it was useless.
"Er, what are we playing?"
Harry aimed his question at Dean, but it was Malfoy who answered.
"Gay chicken, Potter." He paused to sneer. "You chicken?"
Harry still wasn't entirely sure what the game involved, but he knew he could never back down from Malfoy.
Harry was on his feet faster than he thought possible given his inebriated state. There was nothing like a potential fight with one's nemesis to sober one up.
Harry shuddered as Parkinson's voice broke through the silence. It was only then that he realised quite how quiet the room had become. He glanced around uneasily, realising that every eye in room was on he and Malfoy. Belatedly, he realised that nothing good could come of this.
"Boys, sit down."
Pansy Parkinson's words rang with authority and Harry found himself suddenly seated beside Malfoy on one of the squashy Gryffindor couches. Who's idea had it been to invite the Slytherins anyway?
The couch was dipped in the middle thanks to years of overuse and seemed intent on forcing the two enemies closer together. Harry clung slightly desperately to the arm of the chair and glared at Malfoy for want of something better to do.
"Now…" Parkinson's voice took on a vindictive quality and again Harry shuddered involuntarily. "I'll be nice. Draco, put your hand on Potter's knee."
Harry choked, shifting his glare to Parkinson. What the hell was she trying to… oh! Harry's gaze flicked back to Malfoy. The Slytherin was glaring at him still, teeth gritted as if he'd like nothing better than to send a few choice unforgivables flying but was trying to resist the temptation. Malfoy was still as far away from Harry as he could possibly get on the small sofa but his hand had bridged the gap to rest on Harry's knee.
Harry stared at Malfoy's aristocratic looking hand as though he couldn't quite work out what it was. The long pale fingers kept twitching in a manner that made Harry wonder if Malfoy was torn between avoiding more contact than was absolutely necessary and digging his fingers into Harry's knee in an attempt to inflict pain.
It was Hermione who broke the tense silence this time.
"Harry, put your hand on Malfoy's thigh."
Harry couldn't help the incredulous look he shot at her, even as he complied. He still wasn't sure how the game worked, but he was getting a pretty good idea. He and Malfoy had to keep doing what they were told, no matter what. The first to back down was chicken. He glared over at Malfoy. If there was one thing Harry knew, it was that neither of them would ever back down. He sighed. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
As Harry waited for the next order, he began to realise what Malfoy was struggling with. The almost overwhelming desire to sink his nails into Malfoy's leg was tempered only by the awareness of the suggestiveness of their position.
"Malfoy, move your hand higher."
Harry didn't even register where this next command came from, he was too aware of the feel of Malfoy's fingers sliding up his leg. The hand stopped only when Malfoy's little finger rested lightly against Harry's hipbone.
This was so wrong, Harry thought desperately as he copied Malfoy's action on Seamus's command. They were enemies. They shouldn't be touching each other like this. They should have been sending hexes flying at anyone who even suggested it.
"Malfoy, put your hand on Harry's cheek… No the other one."
Malfoy cursed under his breath as he returned his right hand to Harry's thigh, before lifting his left to cup Harry's face. His glare was fiery enough to melt the polar icecaps.
The next command however, cranked up the intensity even further.
"Kiss Malfoy. Lips to lips. No cheating"
Suddenly Harry found himself in the same situation as Ron had been less than ten minutes earlier. Except Ron backing out had been no big deal, not really. Harry on the other hand had no choice. He couldn't let Malfoy win, it just wasn't an option. So Harry continued to inch slowly forward, praying desperately that Malfoy would be the one to back out, knowing even as he did so that there was no hope. He wanted to cry.
They were now so close that Harry could feel the light puff of air against his lips each time Malfoy exhaled and he automatically clenched his fists. Realising belatedly, at the sound of Malfoy's yelp, that his hand was still resting on Malfoy's thigh, Harry frowned. This could not possibly get any worse.
Then his lips met Malfoy's.
And it was... odd. And not entirely unpleasant. Malfoy's lips were soft. And with his eyes shut, Harry could almost pretend he was kissing a girl. After all, they were still doing their best to keep as far away from each other as possible. So there was no lack of breasts pressing against his chest to remind him. There was no anything pressing against him, for which Harry was infinitely grateful.
Things went from bad to worse after that.
Next, their bodies were forced against each other. (Harry hadn't anticipated quite how different it would feel to have a man pressed so tight against him. It was very different, without the cushioning breasts he was used to. They were just so close to one another, it was disorientating.)
After that there were love-bites, ear-nibbles, and hugging (which was almost a relief after everything else). Some brave soul even ordered Malfoy to lick Harry's scar, which felt remarkably pleasant, though Harry pushed that thought away, refusing to analyse it too closely.
He wasn't sure where the next command came from, which was probably a good thing, as by this point Harry felt very close to hexing someone.
"Kiss Malfoy again, but with tongues this time."
Oh Merlin, he had to French-kiss Draco Malfoy.
They went back to the inching dance. Though this time, it lasted for far less time, given that they were now sitting so close. Taking a deep breath, Harry closed the final, infinitesimal gap between them and pressed his lips to Malfoy's.
Trying not to think too much about what he was doing, Harry ran his tongue lightly over Malfoy's closed lips. It was not so much a demand for entry, but more a desperate request that he would be denied and this so-called game could finally end.
Of course, that was never going to happen. After only a second or two of silent protest, Malfoy's lips parted.
Taking unwanted advantage, Harry pushed his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, running it over the other boy's teeth, even as he wondered whether Malfoy might give in to temptation and try to bite it off.
Harry wasn't expecting Malfoy to kiss him back, but he supposed it was rather difficult, uncomfortable even, to stay completely unmoving whilst being so thoroughly ravished, even if one wanted to.
Inevitably, Malfoy moved slightly, their tongues touched and it was as though Harry's whole world had shifted on its axis. Suddenly, instead of trying desperately to keep his distance, he was fighting the urge to shove his hands into Malfoy's hair, deepening the kiss and pulling the Slytherin closer.
Harry barely heard when someone ordered Malfoy to kiss him back, all he knew was that it felt wonderful.
Because Malfoy could kiss. Much as Harry was loathed to admit that Malfoy could do anything with any amount of skill (flying excluded), Malfoy could do this. Somewhere in the back of Harry's brain, there was a voice screaming at him to back down. That this was going to be so much worse if he didn't, but his need to beat Malfoy at everything was too deeply ingrained.
When they drew apart, Harry had to make a conscious effort not to sway forward for another kiss. He didn't know what had happened, only that something must be very wrong with him.
He was so wrapped up in his panicked thoughts that he almost missed the next command.
"Harry, remove Malfoy's belt... with your teeth."
Frowning, Harry nevertheless leaned forward, biting down on the metal buckle whilst trying to keep from touching the other boy at all.
It was harder than he had expected, especially with his alcohol fuelled brain constantly reliving every second of the kiss he had just experienced. Finally, he got the buckle unfastened and taking hold of the metal with his teeth, he yanked on it until the leather strip slid out from around Malfoy's waist. Dumping it on the floor, Harry was halfway through mentally congratulating himself when the next command made it through to his frazzled brain.
"Draco, put your hand on Potter's crotch."
The relish in Zabini's voice was almost scary and Harry wondered what Malfoy had done to piss off his housemate before his thoughts stuttered to a grinding halt.
It seemed Malfoy had grown weary of their dancing around each other. If Harry had been able to think clearly, he might even have agreed. What was the point in drawing out the inevitable? But Harry was not thinking clearly, because there was suddenly a surprisingly warm hand cupping his genitals through his trousers.
Startled, Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him, a bored expression on his face. There was something in his eyes, though, which belied the air of studied casualness.
Clenching his jaw, Harry began listing potions ingredients in his head. Anything to stop him reacting to the feel of that hand...
"Potter, put your hand on Draco's cock. Under his trousers."
Evidently Zabini wasn't the only Slytherin that Malfoy had irritated recently. Harry contemplated asking if it should be above or below underwear, but decided that if he didn't ask, he couldn't be told something he didn't want to hear.
Refusing to meet Malfoy's eyes, Harry reached forward to slip his hand under the waistband of the Slytherin's trousers. It was then that Harry realised there would have been no point to his question, had he bothered to ask it. A fact that Nott most probably knew full well.
Malfoy was not wearing pants.
Harry's hand slid instead over the bare skin of the blond's lower abdomen, before curling loosely around Malfoy's flaccid length.
Harry swallowed hard, trying to make himself recall what was required to brew an effective sleeping potion.
"Get Harry hard."
Harry's mental list went up in a puff of smoke.
"How?" Malfoy's reply was little more than a snarl.
"Oh, I don't mind, that's up to you."
This had gone too far, Harry's mind screamed at him as he lifted his gaze to meet Malfoy's. The other boy was glaring at him, as though this ridiculous situation they were in was somehow Harry's fault.
Harry's chin kicked up a notch in automatic protest. He would not make this easy, he decided, going back to his list of ingredients. So if he added powdered root of asphodel then stirred counter clockwise three times he would... Melt.
He had expected Malfoy to start moving his hand, maybe even slip it into Harry's trousers. He had not expected Malfoy to kiss him again. But suddenly Malfoy's lips were on Harry's, his tongue demanding entrance.
Without conscious thought, Harry's lips parted beneath the onslaught, his head tilting of its own accord to provide Malfoy with better access. If it were at all possible, this kiss felt even better than the last. Harry found himself longing to kiss Malfoy back, to wrap his arms around the other boy and press his hard cock further into Malfoy's... Fuck.
Malfoy pulled back, a triumphant smirk on his face. Harry almost groaned aloud. All Malfoy had done was kiss him and he had melted like butter in a toaster. And now even his similes were hardly making sense.
"Harry, make Malfoy come."
This final order was met with unexpected silence.
"Er, maybe we should just call it a draw?"
Harry could have kissed Ron right then, if it wasn't for the fact that he would far rather be kissing Malfoy, though preferably not in front of half the school. He also didn't think Ron would much appreciate it, but it was the thought that counted.
"So much for the bravery of Gryffindors." Nott scoffed. "Scared you might see something you like?"
"No, I think Weasley's right." Parkinson grimaced as though the words caused her physical pain.
"So we're done?" Malfoy clarified, waiting for confirmation before leaping up from the sofa, almost taking Harry's arm off in the process.
"You know what, I'm going to call it a night." A Hufflepuff Harry didn't know stood up and began to make his way unsteadily towards the portrait hole.
And that seemed to be the sign everyone else had been waiting for. Within minutes, the Gryffindor common room was empty, save for Harry and his closest friends.
"You look traumatised, Harry."
"Of course he looks traumatised!" Ron glared at Hermione. "Are you alright, mate?"
Harry nodded absently, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.
"You should probably get some sleep." Hermione's voice was sympathetic and Harry had to fight the urge to yell at her. Afterall, it wasn't as though she hadn't had her turn ordering them about, even if she had kept it relatively tame.
"I think I might just stay down here for a bit."
Hermione nodded as if she understood, before getting to her feet and heading up to the girls' dormitories.
"Mind if I...?" Ron motioned in the vague direction of the stairs, looking as though he might pass out at any moment.
"Go ahead, I'll be up in a minute."
Nodding, Ron wove his way around the scattered chairs, before disappearing up the staircase.
Sure that Ron would be fast asleep before Harry even made it into the room, he suspected that his fellow Gryffindor was unlikely to notice if Harry didn't immediately follow him up. Weirdly restless, Harry didn't think he would be able to sleep even if he tried. Instead, he decided that perhaps a walk around the castle might tire him out enough to let him rest.
Harry took a step forward before stopping abruptly as he almost tripped over something. Ducking down, he picked up the offending item, intending to toss it away, before he realised what it was. In his haste to depart, Malfoy had clearly forgotten to retrieve his belt.
Turning it over in his hands, Harry couldn't help but admire it. Knowing Malfoy, it was probably ridiculously expensive, but the buckle was truly a thing of beauty. It was a fact Harry had previously failed to notice, no doubt because his mind had been so filled with that damned kiss.
The buckle was silver, depicting a tightly coiled snake with tiny emeralds in place of eyes. It was intricately detailed, making the snake look as though it might leap out at any moment to take a bite out of anyone standing too close.
Without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry slipped the belt around his own waist, fastening it neatly before finally making his way out of the portrait hole.
He wandered aimlessly, with no real purpose, and after a while found himself heading along a random hallway somewhere on the second floor. He was halfway down the corridor when he noticed Malfoy walking towards him.
"Malfoy." Harry inclined his head in greeting as they came to a halt a few feet from each other.
"Potter." Malfoy looked at him oddly, "You're wearing my belt."
"Oh, er, yeah. I found it on the floor and, umm..." Harry stammered, blushing fiercely as he reached down to unfasten it.
"It suits you."
Harry stared, his hand freezing against the cool metal. Surely he couldn't have heard right.
"You can keep it, if you want." Malfoy's lips twitched slightly.
Harry wondered if he sounded as stupid as he felt. Though if the expression on Malfoy's face was anything to guy by, the answer to that question was 'yes'.
It hardly seemed fair. How could Malfoy be so calm and collected when all Harry could think about was shoving the other boy against the nearest wall and kissing him until he couldn't even see straight.
"Pardon?" Malfoy's eyes had gone impossibly wide and it took Harry a second to realise that in his intoxicated state, he had spoken aloud.
Harry tried to look defiant, but he suspected he looked more terrified than anything. "You heard me."
Harry licked his lips nervously, his heartbeat kicking up a notch as he saw Malfoy following the movement with his gaze.
"I always thought Gryffindors were 'act first, think later' types..."
Harry just stared at him in confusion, making Malfoy sigh in frustration.
"If you want something done..." Malfoy muttered, before striding forward and slamming Harry into the aforementioned nearest wall.
Despite his inebriated state and the difficulty he'd had understanding Malfoy's cryptic comments, Harry had no trouble deciphering the Slytherin's actions.
With a strangled moan, Harry buried his hands in Malfoy's hair, tugging the Slytherin forward until their lips clashed together in a meltingly hot kiss.
Without the audience, Harry no longer felt any need to hold back. He thrust his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, kissing him deeply as one of his hands left the other boy's hair, drifting down Malfoy's back to cup his arse.
Hauling the Slytherin closer, Harry did his level best to devour the other boy, ravishing his mouth with lips, tongue and teeth until they were both left panting.
"I believe you were ordered to make me come."
Malfoy's voice wasn't quite as collected as it had been and Harry felt a secret thrill in being the one to make the self-assured Slytherin come undone.
This time he didn't need to be ordered to move his hand, as he slipped it beneath the fabric of Malfoy's trousers. Seeking out Malfoy's erection, Harry started to stroke.
It was strange, doing this to another boy. It wasn't so different to wanking, really, but the angle was wrong. And it felt fucking fabulous, touching Malfoy like this.
Harry relished every gasp, repeating certain movements in order to make Malfoy whimper again, or lurch forward into him, pressing their bodies even closer together.
Harry was achingly hard, the feel of Malfoy's silky smooth length, combined with the delicious sounds he was making, driving Harry slowly crazy.
Suddenly, Harry felt Malfoy's hands on his newly acquired belt, tugging at it until the buckle opened to provide access to Harry's trousers. And then Malfoy's hand was reaching beneath the layers of fabric to circle Harry's cock, stroking it in time with the Gryffindor's movements.
If Harry had been turned on before, it was nothing to what he felt now. Capturing Malfoy's lips yet again, Harry kissed him hard, biting and sucking even as he knew this incredible sensation couldn't last for long.
Tearing his mouth away, Harry buried his face in Malfoy's neck, biting down hard to keep from screaming out his release. He could feel Malfoy shuddering against him, and even through the haze of pleasure, Harry still felt a strange sense of relief that Malfoy had not managed to hold out longer than him.
They stayed where they were, propped against the wall, as they slowly caught their breath.
"That was..." Harry struggled to find the words to describe how incredible it had been.
"Yeah." Malfoy agreed quietly, "It was."
"Uh, do you want to, maybe, do this again sometime?" Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, hoping he could blame the alcohol for his behaviour if Malfoy said no.
"Perhaps." The Slytherin winked, leaning forward to brush a light kiss across Harry's jaw.
Harry turned his head, trying to capture Malfoy's lips with his own, but the other boy had already pulled away, casting a quick cleaning spell on himself before turning on his heel and disappearing off down the corridor.
When Harry walked into the great hall for breakfast the following morning, he was completely oblivious to the shocked silence that fell the second he walked in the door. In fact, Harry was so busy clutching his head in an attempt to stop it exploding from the horrific hangover he was currently sporting, that he also failed to notice the excited whispers which rose up in his wake as he walked to his seat at the Gryffindor table.
"Why are you wearing Malfoy's belt?"
The entire hall fell silent as Ginny Weasley bluntly demanded the answer to the question on everyone's lips.
"Huh?" Harry glanced down at the aforementioned belt, the emeralds glinting slightly in the morning light, trying not to blush as memories from the previous night painted some rather vivid pictures in his mind. "How did you kno...?"
"Oh come on, Harry," Hermione interrupted looking exasperated. "Everyone knows that's Malfoy's belt, he wears it every day. It's got his initials on it, for Merlin's sake."
"Huh?" Harry repeated stupidly, still staring at the belt.
"Look." Hermione leaned forward pointing to the the way the snake's body curled around itself.
"I don't know what you're... Oh!" Harry flushed scarlet.
Suddenly Harry could see nothing but the, now startlingly obvious 'DM' formed by the snake's twisted form. How he could have missed it before was entirely beyond him, particularly given the inordinate amount of time he spent glaring at Malfoy on a daily basis.
But then, Harry had tended to glare at the Slytherin's head rather than at his crotch. He had certainly never bothered to take account of the other boy's fashion decisions. These somewhat defensive sounding thoughts might have provided him with some small consolation if it weren't for the fact that, as of yesterday evening, Harry suspected he would likely be spending a dangerous amount of time gazing at Malfoy's crotch from now on.
At this latest thought, Harry's gaze shot across the hall, coming to rest on a pair of silver grey eyes, sparkling with mirth. With a lurch, Harry realised that Malfoy had known exactly what he was doing when he left Harry with the belt.
Irritated, Harry was on his feet before he had consciously decided to move.
"Harry, where are you going? You just got here."
Harry shook off Hermione's hand, striding purposefully across the hall until he was stood directly in front of Malfoy.
"Do you want something, Potter?" The Slytherin smirked as he got lazily to his feet.
"You bet I do." Harry snarled, leaning forward to grab a fistful of Malfoy's shirt.
"Get your hands off of him!" Parkinson jumped indignantly to her feet, wand in hand.
"Sit down, Pansy, before you hurt yourself."
Malfoy didn't look round to check that Parkinson had followed his orders. His eyes didn't leave Harry's for even a second as he waited to see what Harry would do next.
"Well?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his face unexpectedly free of the mocking expression Harry was so used to seeing.
And just like that, Harry's fury vanished. It was hardly Malfoy's fault that Harry had been stupid enough to wear the Slytherin's belt down to breakfast. Nor was it really Malfoy's fault that the buckle was so recognisable that everyone (besides Harry, apparently) could spot it a mile off.
"Did you actually want something, or did you just feel the need to ruin my shirt?"
"I..." Harry blushed, suddenly wondering what the hell he was doing and how on earth he was going to escape the situation with minimal embarrassment. "Uh..."
"Yes...?" Malfoy eyes were dancing with amusement, his teeth biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing.
"I..." Harry stammered again, his eyes caught by the display of perfect white teeth against Malfoy's pouting red mouth.
"Fuck." Harry groaned as he gave into temptation.
He saw Malfoy's eyes widen almost comically before Harry's lips crashed down on the Slytherin's.
He wasn't expecting Malfoy to kiss him back. And he certainly wasn't expecting to feel Malfoy's hands twisting in his hair, tilting Harry's head in order to deepen the kiss.
Neither boy noticed the thud as Pansy hit the floor in a dead faint, nor the sudden burst of chatter that erupted around the hall. In fact neither boy noticed anything beyond the feel of soft lips, duelling tongues and the play of fingers through silky soft hair.
"Let's get out of here." Malfoy whispered against Harry's lips. "You're far more fun without the audience."
Harry laughed, slipping his fingers out of Malfoy's hair and pulling back. He didn't dare look at anyone else as Malfoy grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the doors.
As soon as they were out of the hall, Malfoy broke into a run, giving Harry little choice but to stumble along behind him. They ran along corridors, up stairs and through secret passageways and even with Harry's superior knowledge of the castle, he still lost track of where they were. Secretly he blamed it on the fact that Malfoy was still holding his hand, which rather affected Harry's ability to think straight.
They didn't stop until they reached the astronomy tower, bursting into the empty room panting for breath.
"The astronomy tower? Really?" Harry spluttered as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. "What are you, a Hufflepuff?"
"Shut up, Potter." Malfoy scowled, but there was no venom in it. "We can be alone here."
A smile played across Harry's face, "So you want to be alone with me?"
Malfoy whipped around suddenly, pushing Harry back against a wall. "Yes, Potter, I want to be alone with you. Or would you rather I had done this in the great hall?"
With remarkable speed, Malfoy had Harry's belt unfastened and his hand wedged down the front of Harry's trousers, cupping him.
"Thought not." Malfoy smirked, stroking his hand lightly up and down Harry's growing hardness.
Harry suddenly had an overwhelming urge to wipe that infuriating smirk off the other boy's face. Simultaneously reaching out to pull Malfoy into a searing kiss, Harry shoved his own hand into Malfoy's trousers, tugging lightly on the Slytherin's burgeoning erection until he moaned.
They said very little after that, beyond the occasional moan or cry of 'Oh Merlin' until eventually, spent and exhausted, they collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor.
"If I'd known you were so good at this I'd have snogged you years ago." Harry's voice was slightly muffled, buried in the curve of Malfoy's neck.
"Was that an actual compliment, Potter?"
Harry grinned, lifting his head to look at the Slytherin. "I wouldn't get too used to it if I were you. You're still a spoiled git."
"And you're still a stupid prat."
"But a kissable stupid prat?"
Malfoy's lips twitched into a half smile.
"A very kissable stupid prat." He agreed, dropping a kiss onto Harry's upturned lips.
Unable to resist, Harry threaded his fingers through Malfoy's hair again, deepening the kiss until they were both lost to the world once more.