"Hermione, I'm done. Can't do this anymore. Just... no." Draco sighed as the words tumbled out of his mouth. They sounded weird and strangely formed. But he meant them. And he did feel bad, he'd been using her.

"I... but... Draco. I thought we really... had something." Hermione's eyes were wet around the edges, but too dry to allow a single tear to fall.

"Well... we didn't. And we never will." Draco's voice turned from confused to harsh. He knew he had to mean them, and he had to make it clear.

Hermione shook her head. She didn't even know how to respond anymore. "We... we could have..."

"No. We couldn't have." Quickly, Draco buttoned up his shirt and rushed out, leaving Hermione to fall back onto her bed, the tears still not coming, but burning her eyes.

Draco's thoughts were reeling. While he'd pretended to love Hermione, he'd managed to get close to the one he'd really wanted to be with... Harry. Harry Potter. It was completely insane, but somehow he felt like it was right.

Draco had never imagined himself gay. He'd always thought of himself as a ladies man, flaunting his blonde hair and nice features. He knew he was good looking.

But there was something about this Potter boy. Something strangely amazing and just so... perfect. And at the same time, he felt a weird fiery feeling inside him, one that wanted to just tear Harry's insides out. He didn't know what to feel, but he knew, somewhere in there, a soft spot for Harry Potter lay. But that was deep down, and above it were many emotions to cover up.

Draco was already in a pretty bad mood, when he bumped into Ron Weasley. Now, Ron was Harry's best friend. However, Draco couldn't stand the little ginger haired freak.

"Sorry, Draco." Muttered Ron, trying to push past.

"Oh, sorry, are you? Watch where you're going, you little weasel!" Snarled Draco.

"Leave him be, Malfoy."

Draco hated when Harry called him by his surname. He turned to see Potter, standing a few feet away. Keeping a sneer on his face, he took in the sight of Harry's bright eyes, dark hair, slim body... then quickly pulled his eyes away.

"Whatever." Draco shoved Ron out of the way, and started down the stairs.

"Wait. Draco. What are you doing out of bed at this time?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Draco ignored the fact that hearing his own name out of Potter's mouth was giving his stomach a small burst of happiness. "I could ask you the same question."

Ron just shrugged, and headed back to the Gryffindor dorm, trying to pull Harry with him.

"Wait, Ron, I'll be right there." Harry gave Draco a smirk. "Stay away from my friends."

"Oh, you want me all to yourself?" Draco said the words before he could hold back. He felt colour rising to his cheeks.

Harry gave him a strange look. For a second he looked unsure of what to say. "Wh-"

He was interrupted by the startling mew of a cat. Mrs. Norris! Harry and Draco both tried to run opposite ways, but towards each other. Which, obviously, didn't work. They crashed into each other, falling to the ground, Draco on top of Harry.

Mr. Filch chose that exact moment to walk in. "Students! Students, out of bed!" He looked disgusted.

Both red faced and disorganised, their robes wrinkled from the fall, the boys could only imagine what the scene had looked like.

Severus Snape, who must have been walking the halls nearby, rushed up behind Filch. "What in the devil's name are you two up to?" Snape asked, his voice full of distaste. "Ten points from Gryffindor, and both of you will serve detention, polishing trophies in the dungeons."

"WHAT?" Draco couldn't believe his ears. Severus Snape could get him out of trouble, but it didn't look like that was happening."Mr. Malfoy, I don't believe I asked you to speak. I will escort you back to your dormitory, and Mr. Filch will see that Potter goes back to his."

The night was long and dreamless for Draco. He was grateful, last thing he needed was some sort of embarrassing dream that would come back to him when he was cleaning trophies with Potter the next day.

They'd had no choice but to skip Quidditch practise. They couldn't miss any other classes, in fear of receiving another detention.

"If these trophies aren't absolutely spotless by the time I return, you'll have double detention." Filch sneered at them. Mrs. Norris' facial expression seemed to mirror his.

Draco looked over at Harry, giving him an annoyed glance, but Harry didn't even look his way, just stared towards the ground and muttered, "Yes, Mr. Filch."

The door slammed loudly, echoing into the room. The old trophies were horribly dirty, rusted and some even bent out of shape.

"How are we ever going to clean all of these?" Draco was horrified. They had barely over an hour to scrub clean ALL of those rusty old trophies!

"Easy enough, we use the scouring charm." Replied Harry simply. "Scourgify!"

The spell echoed off the walls, loud and clear. Then the strangest thing happened. The trophies looked as though they were being scrubbed clean, and soap began flying everywhere.

"The echo..." Draco muttered. "You've cast the spell multiple times. The echo repeated the spell. Since it was still your voice, the wand got confused."Soap suds were everywhere.

"What do we do now?" Harry exclaimed, exasperated.

"I have no idea." Draco replied. But he did have a bit of an idea. However, this little 'idea' of Draco's probably wasn't going to help them clean much...

"Great." Harry responded, as some soap flew towards him, hitting his cheek.

"Potter, you've got a bit of..." Draco motioned to his own cheek.

Harry reached towards the opposite cheek.

Draco rolled his eyes, and without thinking, took Harry's hand and guided it over to where the little spot of soap was.

"Right... about... there." Draco said. Realising what had just happened, he tugged his hand back, taking a step back.

Harry didn't speak for a couple seconds, then stepped towards Draco, filling in the space that had just been made by him stepping back. "You know, I have got an idea of what we could do now."

"What's that?" Asked Draco, trying to go for a seductive tone.

"Well, Scourgify comes from the Latin word excoriata. Which literally means 'to be stripped of'."

Draco blushed. "Well, then, I wonder what would happen if you used that on your clothes, Potter."

"Oh, don't I wonder." Harry teased.

Draco stepped closer, and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "Maybe we won't even need a spell for that one."

When Draco and Harry's lips touched, Draco could feel that burning fire inside that he'd felt before. He felt the hatred towards Harry. He felt love for Harry. And he felt one more feeling... longing. He dug his fingers into Harry's soft hair, desperately kissing him.

Suddenly, Harry pulled away. "Why are we doing this? What... just happened?"

Draco looked towards the ground. "I don't know. I honestly don't. I hate you, Harry Potter. But at the same time... I think I love you."

Harry nodded, his face contorted into a thoughtful look. "That was nice, wasn't it... the kiss..."

Draco gave a small smirk. "I knew that you wanted me to yourself all along."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Cheeky, aren't you?"

That was such a strange thing to hear from Harry's mouth. And such a strange word to describe Draco. They both let out a small laugh, and Draco pulled Harry close again.

"Still think I'm a git?" Teased Draco, referring to something he'd been called quite a few times by Potter.

Harry smirked. "Yes."

"That's good then." Draco replied. "I know I am." He winked and gave Harry another kiss.

When Filch came in, to check that the trophies had gotten cleaned, he found a room filled with soap, robes on the floor, and two very breathless boys, both with pink faces and small smiles.