Anti-Litigation Charm: It all belongs to JKR. I play for non-profit amusement only.

Two Important Author's Notes:

1) Happy Birthday, SapphireQuill'sFic!

She asked for this to be posted especially for her birthday, so everyone should run off and read her fic and review as a thank you. (Very subtle hint, lol. She's under my favourite authors.)

Seriously, I always said I never intended to write any extra scenes from other people's POVs for The Problem with Purity, so you all owe it to her for really wanting this.

For those of you who don't have every occurrence in all 600 000 words memorised, lol, this bit follows the moment in Chapter Eighteen (the one entitled "The Explanation" that is numbered 19 on FF thanks to the Prologue) when Harry has left in a fit of despair because Draco has just insulted his dancing and then gone on to dance beautifully with Hermione. Hermione tells Draco where Harry is, and off Draco goes.

2) I wanted to take this opportunity to announce to all of you that I'm not really writing actively in the HP fandom anymore. I've jumped fandoms (a couple of times, actually), and am currently writing some mixture of Torchwood and Doctor Who (usually centering around Jack/Ianto), Sherlock (John/Sherlock), and Star Trek (usually Reboot, Jim/Spock), with the occasional dabble in Inception (Eames/Arthur) and other fandoms as I feel the itch.

Phew! I've admitted it. I've been putting off posting anything on here partly because I've been worried that everyone who has author alerted me for HP will just be really annoyed when they see that I'm posting something else. But I've been assured by several people that there's actually a chance that some of you might like to read other fandoms or could even be converted.

Though I don't think I'll be posting with the religious regularity of PwP, I am going to try to post more frequently (not hard to do when the previous bar was set to zero, lol) and let a few more fics see the light of day (so to speak). My RL is pretty action-packed right now, though, so I'm really not sure how often I'll manage—but I'll try much harder!

Without further ado, what you've actually been waiting for:

The Problem with Purity
by phoenixwriting

(Outtake from Chapter Eighteen: The Explanation)
The First Kiss

Reaching the sixth-floor classroom that Hermione had indicated on that most amazing map, Draco found that she appeared to be right once again—a propensity which could be irritating beyond words and the best thing in the world because she was trying to cure lycanthropy, believed in Draco enough to rescue him from werewolves on a full moon … and had sent him here to find Harry Potter crouched on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, and cheek resting against his knees.

He looked the very picture of despair, and if Hermione was right, then it was because the prospect of Draco being interested in someone other than Harry was that distressing to the Gryffindor.

Draco had dreamt for years and years of having that sort of power over Harry Potter—and not always in a good way. Part of him wanted to exercise the power to the fullest simply because he could. Because Harry had turned him down in first year, and there was that lingering part of Draco that had never completely gotten over it.

Only if he did have the power that was seemingly wreaking havoc on Harry right now, then he didn't want to hurt Harry. No, he wanted to climb on top of the other man and kiss all his problems away.

He couldn't leave Harry like this, at any rate. And Draco wanted answers. They'd flirted, Harry had blushed a lot, but Draco wanted to know.

And here Harry was, being all miserable and not at all where he had said he would be.

So Draco propped himself up against the doorframe and drawled, "I hadn't realised they'd relocated the kitchens."

Harry's head snapped up at the first word, and while it didn't look as though he'd actually been crying, his eyes were huge and bright.


He sounded completely panicked as he scrambled to his feet. In the past, Draco would have been certain that the other boy was up to something. A Gryffindor prank. An assignation. Still possible, he supposed, but….

"Well?" Draco asked.


Completely clueless, and if he weren't so damn adorable, Draco was sure he'd find it more irritating.

"Have the kitchens been relocated?"

Harry looked round himself as though he needed to verify where he was. "Oh, no, no, they're still downstairs."

"I seem to recall your saying that you were hungry."

"Er, right."

How in the name of all that was magical he had managed to hide for this long that he was a Pure Adult, Draco had no idea. Or rather, her name was Hermione Granger, and Draco's respect for her had just gone up a few more notches.

Harry continued, "I changed my mind."

"And came all the way up here to this dark little room because…?" Draco trailed off delicately, curious as to what Harry could possibly come up with.

He watched Harry's throat as the other man swallowed convulsively.

"I … just … wanted to be on my own for a bit."

"You'll have to do a little better than that, Potter, or you'll convince me that you don't want to spend time with me."

"Oh, no, I like spending time with you!"

He flushed spectacularly as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Draco smirked.

"Do you?"

Looking somewhat hunted, Harry nevertheless nodded marginally.

"Then you certainly should have stayed," Draco pointed out. "We could have danced."

Harry's eyes slipped away. "You wouldn't like to dance with me. I'm rubbish."

Such a brave tone, baldly stated as though Draco could not see how much it had hurt him.

Draco held out a hand. "Come here."

Harry frowned at him. "Why?"

Draco beckoned with his fingers, standing there with his best imperious look until Harry put his hand in Draco's.

The flush of triumph was absolute. Six and a half years, and Harry had finally taken Draco's hand.

Draco used his hold to tug the other man closer, positioning them, and even when the look of understanding came, the confusion did not disappear.

"What are you doing?"

"I should think that rather obvious. One can hardly improve if one does not practice."

Draco didn't get to stand this close to Harry often enough, nor often get to touch him this much. Harry was really quite mesmerising, staring at Draco as he was doing, which was why it was rather annoying when the gaze slipped away.

"Oh, you don't want to do that," Harry countered. "I'll just step on your feet."

He tried to pull away, but Draco wouldn't allow it.

"Was it not recently made very clear that I am able to refuse tasks I do not wish?"

Harry's mild struggles ceased, and he made eye contact again. "You really want to dance with me?"


"There isn't any music."

On the brink of saying that surely he could dance without music, Draco recalled to whom he was speaking and the display that he had recently witnessed.

"That is easily remedied."

Harry didn't bolt when Draco let go long enough to conjure the music. They waltzed.

It was just as well that Harry had warned Draco about that propensity towards stepping on his partner's feet. Hermione had intimated that Harry was actually all right with the waltz, but Draco had his doubts. Harry certainly got flustered and embarrassed, and Draco tried not to get frustrated.

"Would you please look at me instead of your feet?"

Harry's eyes snapped up. "Sorry."

So green, those eyes. They had enchanted Draco for a lot longer than he wanted to admit, and now they were focussed on him with such emotion in their depths.

It turned out that when Harry was staring into Draco's eyes, he didn't concentrate so much on his feet and trip the two of them up. He was far from the most accomplished dancer that Draco had ever partnered, but when Harry was so close and staring at Draco like this, it was difficult for him to be concerned about much of anything else. Proper form, really, was overrated; if they just swayed back and forth a bit now, did that really matter when they had the opportunity to be nice and close?

Really very close. Harry still had his attention fixed on Draco, all big eyes and dark lashes and slightly parted lips, and Draco couldn't seem to help himself. He closed the distance between them and brought his lips to Harry's. The other man let out a soft exhalation against Draco's mouth and leaned into the kiss.

Draco wasn't ever going to admit just how long he'd wanted this and just how wonderful it was to get it, to feel the confirmation of every statement Hermione had made, every suspicion Draco had had. There had been a time when this sort of action would have garnered Draco the business end of a wand, and now here Harry was, hands clutching at Draco, returning the kiss eagerly.

Harry's right hand had migrated to Draco's shoulder, and as it brushed against the area that Greyback had bitten, the twinge brought Draco to his senses. He pulled away.

"I shouldn't have done that."

The dreaminess disappeared from Harry's eyes with alarming rapidity to be replaced with a stricken look that Draco found he couldn't bear. He reached out and caressed Harry's cheek.

"It's quite awful timing, you see, but I want very much to kiss you again."

The cautious beginnings of a smile. "Really?"

"Yes … Harry."

A full smile now, the kind that Harry didn't normally direct at Slytherins—only as far as Draco knew, he didn't normally kiss Slytherins, either. It had been a gamble, the familiarity, but worth it for that smile.

"I think you'd better head back before Hermione wonders what's happened to you."

Before Draco lost what remained of his willpower.

"Right. I'll see you later, then." He hesitated, and then the little smile appeared. "Draco."

Harry's eyes sparkled brilliantly, and as far as Draco was concerned, Harry could call Draco whatever he wished.

"At dinner," Draco said, striving for a modicum of rational thought.

Harry offered him another blinding smile before he left, and Draco stood in the empty room listening to his own quiet breathing. His world was shifting in so many ways, and he couldn't be even halfway certain, yet, where he would end up.

He wondered how long he could wait to kiss Harry again. Mid-February had never seemed so far away.