This is my first HarryxDraco fic. I've read plenty, but I've nver written them before, so I thought I would give it shot with some fluff. Well, I think it's fluff. Kinda. It's got hints of fluff. How about that? It's fluffy-ish. Yeah, let's go with that... Anyway, enjoy! Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it all, I'm just manipulating the characters for my own benefit.


"Potter! Malfoy! Get to work, now!"

Harry ducked his head, glaring at both Malfoy and Snape before opening his book to the proper page.

"Don't think I'm happy about this Potter." Malfoy told him angrily, keeping his voice low.

"And I am?" Harry asked sarcastically. He started chopping, taking his frustration out on the large beetle on the table.

"You'll mutilate it!"

"So you do it then!"

"Fine!" Malfoy took the knife, brushing Harry's hand and started cutting the beetle properly.

Harry just stood there for a moment, puzzled by the shock that he had felt. Not static, but something else. Something that went through the pit of his stomach, leaving butterflies in its wake. He shook his head, and went to do something productive.

The bell rang, and again, Malfoy brushed him, sending another shot of butterflies through his stomach.'Get a grip!' He shook himself and left the dungeons with Ron and Hermione quickly.

The evening at dinner, Harry completely ignored the Slytherin table, but as he, Ron and Hermione left, he felt someone brush him, and again with the butterflies! He whipped around to see Malfoy sneering at him. "What do you want Malfoy?" Harry asked angrily.

"For you to get out of my way Potter. You're blocking the doors."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around, walking away. And again with those damn butterflies when Malfoy grabbed his arm! "WHAT?"

"Don't even think about screwing up again in Potions, or I'll make you regret it."

He pulled his arm away, a disgusted look on his face, and left Malfoy standing there smirking. In his mind, though, that threat held something alluring. He couldn't explain it, didn't understand it, didn't want to understand it, but he almost wanted to screw up next Potions class. He shook his head. He was just tired and not thinking clearly. No big deal.

That night, when he slept, his dreams were dotted with images of Malfoy carrying out his threat in, to Harry, the strangest way. Because it didn't hurt. There were no spells, no hurtful words, no blows. Waking the next morning, he found he hadn't been disturbed by his dreams, but in a sick, masochistic way, he wanted it. He shook the dreams from his thoughts, and soon forgot about them.

The next Potions class, a day later, Harry purposefully tried to keep himself from touching Malfoy in any way. He didn't want the stupid butterflies. For the first half of the class, his attempts succeeded, but eventually, inevitably, their hands brushed, and Harry and Malfoy both yanked their hands away as if burned.

"Watch it Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes and continued what he had been doing. A few minutes later, however, their hands brushed again, and, again, both yanked their hands back, glaring at each other. "Why don't YOU watch it, Malfoy?" Harry knew he was baiting him, but those damn butterflies were annoying!

"I will curse you til you can't walk, Potter, don't think I won't!"

Butterflies welled up into Harry's throat, closing it so he couldn't speak and his heart rate rose. Not out of fear, though, and Harry looked away, blushing slightly, his thankfully long hair hiding his face.

The bell rang, and Harry jumped violently, knocking the knife off the table. He made a grab for it, and missed, falling off his chair onto the floor, crashing into Malfoy and slicing his hand open. He cried out, letting his shoulder hit the ground to inspect his hand, when he was shoved into his recently vacated chair.

"Get off me Potter you klutz!" Malfoy shouted, disgusted.

"Potter! What did you do?" demanded Snape, striding over, his robes billowing behind him.

"I fell, that's all." He said acidly. He grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself up with his good hand. "I tried catching the knife when it fell. Obviously, I failed." He bent and grabbed the knife, shoving it in his Potions kit quickly, then swinging his bag over his shoulder, heading to leave.

"Not so fast Potter. Why would you try to catch a falling knife? Are you daft? You could have cut yourself or Mr. Malfoy!"

"Well I did cut myself, so lesson learned! Can I go to the Hospital Wing now?" He asked angrily.

"You could have killed me Potter!"

Harry turned and glared at him. "I didn't even get a drop of blood on you so shut up!"

"Potter! Silence!"

Harry glared at Malfoy, but fell silent.

"Go to the hospital Wing and get it fixed. Detention tonight at six o'clock here with me."


"Did I stutter?"

"No, sir..." Harry mumbled, glaring at Malfoy.


Harry trudged to the Hospital Wing, Ron and Hermione following, worried.

"Are you all right Harry? What happened? Why did you fall?" asked Hermione.

"No, I'm not all right. I've got a gash on my hand, not a paper cut. I don't want to talk about it."

"But Harry-"

"I don't want to talk about it, all right?" he half glared at her, and she withered under his gaze, falling silent. "Look, I'm sorry, I just don't want to think about it right now."

She nodded as they reached the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey already tutting as she bustled over to them.

"What did you do now Mr. Potter?"

"Tried to catch a falling knife in Potions..." He held his hand out for her to see. The wound was still bleeding, though it was slowing.

She huffed and cast two spells on his hand, one to clean it, and one to heal it. "Do be more careful next time Mr. Potter. I would rather not have you in here so often."

Harry ducked his head and muttered an assent, then left quickly. 'Damn Malfoy and those damned butterflies! I have to ask someone about those... Hermione would know, she's smart.'

He scarfed down his dinner to get to his detention with Snape that night, hopefully he would be allowed to do his homework. He had a lot of it. No such luck. Lines were his punishment.

In Charms the next day, Harry asked Hermione if she knew what was going on if someone touched you and you got butterflies.

"It means you like the person. Or they make you nervous. Or both. It could be both. Oftentimes, someone is nervous around the person they like. Why?"

Harry brushed her question off, muttering something about curiosity after someone had mentioned it in passing. She looked at him suspiciously, and nodded knowingly, and he blushed brightly, trying and failing to return to the spell they were supposed to be practicing. "It's not like that..."

"Harry, I'm not stupid. You wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important to you. You like someone. Who is it?"

"I don't like anyone! Ok? I don't. I was just curious."

"Mmhmm. Just keep telling yourself that, Harry, I know the truth. I'll find out who it is."

Hermione watched him like a hawk for the next week and noticed every little jump he made in classes, every time he jerked away from someone. Most of the time it was around one person, though. As the week wore on, she noticed that he kept glancing at the Slytherin table more and more, and more specifically, one person at the Slytherin table.

Harry, on the other hand, hadn't noticed a thing, other than the butterflies were getting worse. Three Potions classes after he first noticed it, he saw that Malfoy had blushed profusely when he snapped at him quietly for messing something or other up when their hands brushed. Harry wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying though, but more to the way his lips moved when he spoke, and the blush spread across his cheeks. Harry would admit that Draco Malfoy was good-looking. No one could deny that. But that didn't mean he fancied the blonde!

Hermione dragged Harry to the library one evening to help her look for a book for something or other. Harry hadn't really been paying attention as he had been trying to finish an essay for Transfiguration. He grudgingly went with her, subconsciously knowing this would be about the damned butterflies.

"So, are you just going to tell me who you fancy Harry, or do I have to tell you to get you to see it?" asked Hermione as they combed the shelves for a book that Harry didn't even remember the title of.

"I don't fancy anyone Hermioine. I told you, I heard it in passing and was curious, that's all."

Hermione just shook her head and turned to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Just admit you fancy Draco Malfoy and everything will make sense Harry."

Harry blushed scarlet. "I don't fancy anyone! Let alone Draco! Hermione, I'm sorry, but I think you've lost it this time."

Hermione smiled at him. "Then why do you jerk away from him and blush every time you touch? Why do you avoid eye contact?"

"Because... Damnit Hermione! He's a git! I don't fancy him!" He brushed her hand away and pretended to search the shelves for the book, which he still couldn't remember the title of. He was remembering the blush across a certain blonde's cheeks in their last Potions class.

"Harry, please. Just make it easier on yourself. You fancy Draco Malfoy and you're in denial."

"You're the one in denial..." Harry muttered darkly under his breath.

"I heard that."

"I don't know what you're talking about Hermione."

"And you're changing the subject."

"And is that a problem? It was getting nowhere. I don't fancy Draco any more than you fancy Luna."

Hermione shook her head. "You don't mean that. Besides, when did you start calling him Draco? When did he stop being Malfoy to you?"

Harry stopped adn looked at her. "I... I don't know..."

She hugged him gently. "You fancy Draco, Harry. Just admit it. You blush a lot around him. You've admitted you get butterflies whenever you touch. You're always staring at him when he's at the Slytherin table, and you glare whenever someone touches him. I noticed a lot this past week, Harry. Just give it up."

Harry sighed heavily and put his head on her shoulder. "I don't know what to do..."

"Does this mean you're admitting you fancy Draco Malfoy?"


"Well, think about his reaction the last few times you've touched. What does it tell you?"

Harry thought about it, and realized it was the same reaction Draco got out of him. "He reacts the same as I do. So, does that mean he fancies me?" he asked, lifting his head and looking her in the eyes.

"I think it does, Harry."

Harry grinned and blushed scarlet.

At the next Potions lesson, Tuesday, Harry had a spring in his step that nothing could dampen. Hermione smiled knowingly at him, though Ron was oblivious as ever.

Harry's heart rate picked up when he spotted Draco, but his face fell slightly when he saw that Pansy was all over him again. Though, he thought rather glumly, Draco was trying to get her off of him. His mood brightened again, though, when he and Draco were still partners. Throughout the class, he would find excuses for their hands to brush, to feel that shock and the butterflies. Those wonderful butterflies.

Near the end of class, when their hands brushed while they were cleaning up, Draco shoved a note into Harry's hand, then went off to wash his hands. Harry felt his heart pounding with anticipation. HE finished clearing the table, washed his hands, and opened the note with slightly shaky hands.

Meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight at ten. Come alone. D.M.

A shiver went up his spine at the thought of being alone with Draco and he crumpled the note in his hand so no one else could read it or take it. He caught Draco's eye just before the bell rang, and nodded slightly, trying to keep his enthusiasm from making it not so subtle. Draco didn't acknowledge the nod, but Harry knew he had seen and wasn't worried.

He caught up to Ron and Hermione when the bell rang, almost skipping with excitement. Then he remembered he was in public and people would stare if he was skipping. So instead, he had a silly grin plastered on his face as they made their way to dinner.

"What's got you so happy?" asked Ron.

"I don't know what you're talking about Ron." said Harry, now trying to keep a straight face and failing.

"Oh come off it mate. You're grinning like a madman."

"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry glanced at Hermione and she smiled at him, knowing that something good had happened for him with Draco.

"Fine then. Don't tell me."

"It's nothing important. Just... glad Christmas break is coming soon." And it was. They only had two more weeks of classes before the winter holidays started.

Harry scarfed his dinner down, wishing that time would move faster so that ten o'clock would be there already. He tried doing homework, but his mind kept drifting to the note in the middle of a sentence, and he would have to reread what he had written before finishing it, and his mind would drift to the note again. He kept glancing at his watch as the seconds ticked slowly by. It was almost painful how slow time was going. As his watch reached 8:30, he groaned, stretching, then threw his quill on the table.

"Trouble focusing?" asked Hermione, smirking.

"Like you wouldn't believe." He laid his head back on his chair and closed his eyes, trying to relax, and failing miserably.

She smiled knowingly and continued writing her essay.

Several minutes later, Harry checked his watch and sighed. Why must time torture him so? It was bad enough that he was nervous and excited at the same time, but to torture him by making time crawl? It was almost too much.

He decided that it would probably be best if Hermione knew where he was going so that she could at least open the portrait hole for him so it wouldn't look strange. Well, too strange. He sat up and scrawled a note on a torn piece of parchment and gave it to Hermione when Ron was absorbed in his essay, chewing on the end of his quill.

She read it quickly, and nodded once. Harry relaxed after that, and at 9:30, after an agonizingly slow hour had passed, Harry 'went up to bed' so that he could get his cloak and sneak out. Hermione went to the portrait hole after being poked gently in the arm, saying she needed a book from the library. Both left without incident, though Hermione came back a few minutes later, saying she didn't realize the time and forgot it was after curfew.

Harry, under the cloak, was holding the Marauder's Map, searching for Draco's dot. He wasn't in the Slytherin common room. He checked up on the seventh floor, and found him almost at the Room of Requirement. He folded the map up after wiping it clean and set off carefully. He arrived only having seen Mrs. Norris slip around a corner. As he reached the tapestry the marked the room, he saw that he could see the door, and opened it without taking the cloak off.

He saw that Draco was there first. Then he noticed that there was a huge fireplace with a roaring fire, several couches and armchairs, one each of Gryffindor red, and Slytherin green. Harry was surprised by this, though pleasantly so. Draco was pacing, and hadn't noticed the door open yet. Harry closed the door, making sure that the sound was audible, and the blonde jumped, looking around wildly, but seeing nothing, he drew his wand. "Who's there?"

Harry smiled and pulled the cloak off, making Draco jump again.

"Don't scare me like that Potter! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Harry smirked at him, throwing the cloak over his shoulder. "So what do you want?"

"To talk."


"... Us..."

Harry didn't move for a moment, thinking, then walked over to the scarlet couch and sat down, leaning against the arm. "Go on..."

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, then sat on the emerald couch, which was across from the scarlet, not leaning against the arm, but touching it. "This past week has been..."

"Confusing?" supplied Harry.

"Yes... Very confusing..." He paused. "I'm not sure what to make of it..."

"Neither am I..."

"We've been fighting for so long..."

"Everyone expects it now..."

"If we were to stop... I don't know how the school would react..."

Harry was silent for a long moment. "Who cares?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Who cares what the rest of the school thinks? I don't. You shouldn't."

"You don't understand, there are certain things that are expected of a Malfoy-"

"So what? Why does the name mean so much to you? It's covered up dark secrets for a long time. It's a facade to hide behind." said Harry angrily, balling his fists up.

"You don't understand. Being a Malfoy... you can't be normal."

"And being Harry bloody Potter you can? Draco, I know what it feels like to be in the limelight, and I hate it. I hate that I'm famous. I hate what I'm famous for. I hate everything about it. So I don't let that fame guide what I do and don't do. Fame makes people their slave. Once they have it, most people want more, so they'll do anything to put themselves int he spotlight. I refuse to let it do that to me. Why don't you?"

Draco was silent, studying his hands carefully. "It's not that simple when you've been raised to embrace it. To be a slave to your name."

"I can help you with that," he told the blonde. "If you want," he added as an afterthought.

Draco looked at him curiously, as if seeing if he was lying, and Harry felt trapped beneath that grey stare, mesmerized by the way the light reflected off those eyes.

"I do want that..." the blonde said softly. Harry blushed slightly, embarrassed, but pleased.

"But that isn't what I came to talk about. Fame I mean. I... I've been getting these weird feelings..."


"Pardon me?" asked Draco, confused.

Harry blushed brightly. "I've been getting butterflies..." he muttered, "whenever we... touch..." His voice faded as he spoke, so that the last word was almost inaudible.

Draco smiled at him. Not his usual smirk or a 'I am your superior' smile. A genuine one. "Butterflies then. They're not exactly... unpleasant, but..."

"Yeah. I know. A bit awkward."


Silence fell between them. And neither knew what they were supposed to do. Every time they looked at each other, they blushed brightly, and looked away, not speaking. It was unbearably awkward.

Harry, after a long moment, took a quiet deep breath, closing his eyes, and when he let it out, opened them. He swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, but it stuck in his throat. 'So much for Gryffindor courage...' He tried again, and it died on the tip of his tongue, staring at the blonde. He only just noticed how beautiful he was. High cheekbones, smooth skin, soft pink lips that still retained their masculinity... And those eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes. He realized hat he had never seen quite that shade of grey on anyone else, and his stomach flipped. His breath caught in his throat, and as Draco looked at him again, he could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks, and down his neck, darkening as the blonde raised an eyebrow at him. 'Now or never damnit!' he thought, and he forced himself to stand even though his legs felt like jelly and his knees were shaking like mad. Harry took those few steps toward Draco, and just as the blonde opened his mouth to say something, he pressed his lips to Draco's. Though Harry, with his eyes closed, couldn't see it, it took a moment for Draco to react at all. The blonde's eyes closed slowly, and he kissed him back. Harry pulled away after a long moment, his face scarlet, and his whole body heating up.

Neither moved as they stared into each others eyes, searching for regret or revulsion, anything that would hint at their former relationship as enemies, and both were pleased to find none. Harry bit his lip nervously, and Draco smiled again, kissing him softly.

"So I take it we're not going to go back to hating each other. Correct?" asked Draco, pulling back and smiling at the boy with emerald eyes.

"There is a fine line line between love and hate, and sometimes, it becomes blurred. Hate can be changed to love by a simple case of butterflies." Harry smiled at him, and kissed the grey eyes boy forcefully, pushing him back into the couch, straddling his legs. Draco wrapped his arms around the shorter's waist, and pulled him closer. Harry tentatively brushed his tongue against the other boy's lips, asking for entrance, which was happily given. When their tongues brushed, both shivered in pleasure.

When they pulled back, both were flushed and panting.

"Damned butterflies..."

"Oh I think the butterflies were a good thing."

A smirk and a kiss, and the two were off in their own world of pleasure once again.