Title: The Locker Room
Author: Maya and Aja
Rating: PG-13 - R
Setting: After a brutal Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match, Harry and Draco do the usual.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: This Armchair RP is dated 9-22-02. The Armchair chatters as usual provided the scenario. Harry (Aja)/ Draco (Maya)

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Draco stormed into the Gryffindor locker rooms, banging locker doors as he passed, hair still hanging in his eyes, blind with rage and bent on, oh, some kind of *violence* when the voice rang out.

Even inside the shower Harry knew instinctively that only one person could be causing the racket in the lockers outside. Sodding pest, he thought irritably. "Malfoy, I'm not..." he started to call, and then stopped abruptly. 'Not dressed yet' would have sounded like he was about to get all dolled up just so he could fight with Malfoy. Damn prat. 'Not...ready,' might have been more accurate--but was he ever ready for Draco? For his sudden attacks and volatile rage? ... Not hardly.

Draco looked around, wildly, even though he'd already figured out the only place that Harry could possibly be. Oh for God's sake... this wasn't supposed to happen! You weren't supposed to storm the enemy's lair intent on savage bodily harm only to find him *naked*! Then he saw the pile of clothes outside. He smiled, leaned against the door, and whispered - 'Well, Potter. Quite a predicament.'

Harry wondered for a confused second if Draco was planning on storming the shower stall just to throw his temper tantrum. Then he got even more confused by the strange jolt of ...pleasure... that ran through him at the prospect. A feeling that was completely banished by the subsequent conviction that he was being.... watched. He hid against the wall as best he could. "Uh. ...Malfoy?" his voice was terribly uncertain. He hated that. Damn Malfoy. Damn him damn him damn him!

Potter's strangled voice improved Draco's mood ever so slightly. 'Are you coming out or am I coming in, Potter?' he inquired with the smooth composure of one who is fully clothed. 'Or am I...' He picked up Harry's Quidditch robe, grabbed the fabric in both hands and *ripped.*

Harry let out a gargled yell and cursed. "Malfoy, you bastard! What the hell are you doing out there? Just because you couldn't keep your hand around the snitch you have to take it out on me? The way you take sodding everything out on me! You selfish egotistical megalomaniacal arse!" He stopped short and let his head fall against the shower stall with a thud. "What do you want, anyway?"

Draco smiled, a curling, cruel smile he was rather upset nobody got the benefit of. 'Why, just what you said, Potter. To take everything out on you. Or perhaps...' he tore savagely at the material, as if he could kill it, as if it was *Potter*... 'to discuss *why* I always take everything out on you, you self-righteous, big-headed, *cheating* bastard!'

Harry banged his head on the wall a few more times for good measure. It throbbed with the kind of dullness that he felt was oddly befitting for Draco Malfoy. You--*thud*--are such--*thud*--a moron. *thud* Only a moron would leave his clothes unprotected, knowing Malfoy was ready to come barging in any second and wreak havoc on the locker room.

Or perhaps, a tiny voice in his head prompted, that's why you left your clothes unprotected.

He thudded his head a few more times for good measure, then turned off the water and stepped outside, clad in a towel and nursing his now bruised right temple.

Draco heard, with a distinct sense of bemusement, *thuds* from inside the room. He cleared his throat as Harry came out. 'Do you have company in there?' he asked, sneering. 'If it's Weasley I'll leave. The very thought is turning me blind.' He looked up, letting the shreds of robe fall from his hands, with his trademark snarl and saw - Potter. A very bewildered, very unclothed, very *absolutely soaking wet and practically naked* Harry Potter. Draco hated it when plans didn't go to plan. Not that 'kill the sanctimonious f***er' was exactly a cunning scheme.

Sod off, Malfoy," Harry glared. He lingered for a moment too long on the grass-stained shirt that currently outlined every muscle in Malfoy's well-muscled chest, and then jerked his gaze away to focus on the robe, now lying on the floor. "Well? Are you going to repair my robes or am I going to have to use your dick for a needle?"

He meant it to sound menacing when he said it. Really. Damn Malfoy.

Draco could not help laughing. 'Oooh, Potter. You kiss your mother with that mouth? No, wait... I forgot...' He sneered. 'Too bad. So sad. I hold out less than no hope for your designs on my manhood, and I wasn't planning on repairing your robes, but I thought it might be a favour to the world if I rearranged your face. God knows it needs it.' Whereas your body� he thought, except that he wasn't thinking that, and could never, ever, not even in another world, not even on a Wednesday, think that ever again. Draco took a deep breath and yanked savage anger to the forefront of his brain.

Fuming, Harry bent to pick up the robe. This proved to be a mistake, because even something so simple as picking up a robe could not be simple with Draco bloody Malfoy�not with Malfoy standing right there while Harry bent over, fearful the whole time that Draco was about to � to what, he didn�t even know. He stood up again a bit clumsily, feeling the blood in his cheeks and wishing he were miles away. �You can�t even make sense even when you�re trying, can you, Malfoy? You will fix my robes, I�ll see to that�but in the meantime, allow me to join you on your level and repeat myself. What the bloody fuck do you want?�

Without even realising it Harry subconsciously gripped his towel tighter around himself and glared straight into Malfoy's eyes. Eyes. ...oh. Oh my. Right. Um. The rage thing. Yes.

Draco really was looking forward to the moment when Harry realised he'd picked up *half* of the torn robe. He looked down at Harry (to sneer! to sneer! Not to look at the curve of his back, because honestly, who *did* that?) and growled, 'You know *exactly* what I want, Potter.'

When Potter straightened up and glared right at him, the sudden intense shock of... of something... threw Draco for a moment. But rage was heat, and the heat was definitely there, and ... it was only a moment.

Harry let out a growl of exasperation. "I never know what you want, Malfoy! When you're not full of riddles you're full of shit! Why don't you just tell me for once, is that too much to ask?" He spun and started pacing--anything to quell the incessant predatory look of his enemy right now. "Or can you even give a straight answer--are you so steeped in lies and deceit you can't be upfront about anything?" He paused, looked down, realized he only had half the robe and that the other half was still lying on the floor beside Draco. "Fuck," he said, very ungracefully.

Draco would not, would not laugh, but he couldn't help an evil grin. 'Ah. Potter. If you're going to keep pacing, you might keep in mind that your towel isn't all that secure. Or else I might start thinking you don't want a *straight* answer.' He lifted his chin and stepped in towards the other boy, who was standing still and apparently transfixed with mute horror. He absently noted the curve of hip and the expanse of flesh below as the towel *almost* slid past the point of no return. 'But you're going to get one.' He felt the rage jack up a notch, and that was *good*, because he also would not, would not stare.

I refuse to be embarrassed, thought Harry. I refuse to be embarrassed. I refuse to�oh god�is that my thigh? My thigh is showing, isn�t it? Oh god. Oh god. Clenching both fists around the towel he let his lip curl in an expression livid with rage. �If you want to get a rise out of me, you�ll have to do better than this,� he said calmly, refusing to acknowledge the implications of what he�d just said. Even though he could have sworn Malfoy had just licked his lips.

�Come out with it then,� he said fiercely.

He hadn't just... well. Clearly, this room was very hot, and his lips were very dry, and it was all perfectly natural. And then he noticed that Potter was going red. 'Oh, please, spare me your virgin blushes,' he said, and the temperature was clearly affecting his voice, which had gone very low indeed. He pushed Harry backwards (rage, rage, rage, and in no way his hands on the wet naked chest of Harry Potter) and said 'Here's your answer, Potter. I *hate* you.'

Harry's head slammed back against the locker from the momentum of Malfoy's push, and instinctively he reached up and grabbed Malfoy's too-fine, too-soft hair, wrenching it so that Malfoy's head was yanked backwards and his fine white neck was exposed. He hissed--Malfoy may have hissed too but he didn't care. "That's your big secret, Malfoy? That's the big straight answer? You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you? I've hated you ever since the day we met, but you don't see me running around stalking you trying to make your life miserable! You only prove to me every second how lucky I am I didn't shake your hand that day." He let go of Malfoy's hair, ignoring the claw marks Malfoy was leaving against his chest, and pushed back against him as hard as he could. "We're obviously done here," he snapped, and started to walk across the room to retrieve the other half of his robes.

Draco turned and ran after Harry, seizing him by the arm and pulling him back. "Oh no," he spat. "We're not done here, we're never going to be fucking done, and thanks for bringing up that little handshake thing because that's where it all started. You thought you were too good for me then, and you've continued to think so and to make everyone else think so every day of your golden boy little life here, and I *have* to hate you so *someone* will, so when you think everyone in the world is swooning over your perfection you know there's someone"--he pushed his face closer to Harry's, trying to get the point across, trying to break through that angry look to get something more--"someone who hates you *so* much he can fucking well taste it every morning and feel it run through his veins all day because Potter, you are..." He looked down.

Harry was so surprised he forgot to be defensive, and for a moment he just gaped at Draco, at the rage he could feel creating a palpable heat against his own skin. "...I'm what?" he asked blankly. "What, Malfoy?"

Draco tried to contain the slow smirk. He also tried and utterly failed to remove his eyes. "My, my Potter," he purred. "You seem to be a *little* excited."

Harry blinked. "Um." He would not look down. He would not look down. Instead he would stare at the sweat forming on Malfoy's temple and rivuleting down his cheek. "Once again I fail to follow your inexpressibly odd train of thought, Malfoy." His voice was deliberately low--low, not husky. "Do you have a point?"

"It seems you have enough point for both of us," Draco sneered. Look away, man, for God's sake. "Or maybe not. I meant it when I said a little excited. Look..." He stepped away, and yes, that was progress, and now if he could just remove the eyes... "Why don't you get calmed down. We can always finish this another time.' He turned away - success! - but then looked over his shoulder and dammit, caught again, but he managed to add lazily, softly, 'Like I said -we'll never be over.'

Harry stood, caught firmly halfway between about a zillion emotions: rage, indignation, confusion, bewilderment, regret, reluctance, uncertainty, and out and out frustration being among the most keen�as well as a host of others he didn�t even want to think about. It was only ever Malfoy who did this to him. He felt himself stiffen with anger under Malfoy�s words, but there was also a part of him stiffening with something other than anger, and he didn�t understand that either, so he just stood, watching Draco with wide eyes, as Draco threw his parting retort over his shoulder. He gulped and found that his mouth was completely dry. �You�re wrong, there, Malfoy,� he said quietly. �In order for something to be over it has to have begun. And we�ve never begun, you and me. We never will.�

'We've never begun?' Draco laughed. 'Please. You think this happens every day? We've begun all right. We've had six years of hatred. You don't call thinking I was the Heir of Slytherin and a murderer - yes, I've heard - at the age of 12 beginning? You don't think you would have felt half what you felt when you won the Cup for the first time if it hadn't been me you'd beaten? You think you'd be having this reaction now if we hadn't begun six fucking years ago and kept on going faster than the Hogwarts Express? Give me a break, Potter. Get a clue. I'm under your skin, and I'm fucking staying there, and I'm going to make your life a misery forever. But now I'm leaving, because quite frankly the view here is unappealing.' He turned, walked - success success success - and put his hand on the door knob.

In the moment Malfoy rested with his hand on the doorknob a thousand things flashed through Harry�s mind; he ignored most of them and acted solely on impulse. The second the doorknob began to turn his hand was somehow there on top of Malfoy�s keeping it from moving further. His other hand found Malfoy�s shoulder, gripping it roughly, and he spat into his rival�s confused expression with all the loathing he could muster, �You think you get under my skin because you haven�t learned that the only way you can affect somebody is if they let you, Malfoy. You think you get under my skin because the thing you just described�that�s what happens to you. What I do to you. But you�re wrong. You think anything you can do will affect me? You�re just a bug I have to swat away on a daily basis. You�re nothing to me, Malfoy.� The words stung in his mouth as he said them, but they felt good, too. �You�re nothing. And if I�m anything other than a nonentity to you, then it�s nothing but your own weakness showing at last.�

Draco stared up at Harry. And he was absolutely blind with rage and he was going to hit him and then it just - drained away, because if Harry was telling the truth - and why wouldn't he, that was the kind of stuff he did, it was strange but there it was - then... He clenched his hand so hard on the doorknob it hurt, reached out for the only kind of validation which came to his admittedly one-track mind. He leaned in, and spoke softly, voice vibrating against the delicate skin of Harry's throat. "Oh...." and his lips were brushing, brushing, almost really touching his jaw-- "so I don't... affect you at all, Potter?"

Harry�s breath caught in his throat. No, he thought loudly. The correct answer is No. �No,� he said, only it wasn�t nearly as forceful when he spoke as it had been in his brain. �Not at all.� He froze, his entire body aching to respond to that one near-touch of Malfoy�s, to his breath against Harry�s skin; but he couldn�t. He wouldn�t. This was Malfoy. The one person who would never ever see him weak�the one person to whom he could never, ever, give in�

Draco heard the tiny hesitation in Potter's voice. He'd heard it in the voice of quite a few before, but this was different, this was Potter, this was war, and since this was cold-blooded war he really should have better control over his breathing. "You're absolutely sure?" he purred, and yes, his breath was hot against Harry's neck and he heard that little helpless breath and then he licked, long, slow, deliberately, from Harry's collarbone up to his chin.

Harry couldn�t help it�his body arched, his neck tensed and he let his head fall back under Malfoy�s tongue. For the moment it was fucking perfect; and then he stepped back, away, as calmly as he could, and looked at Draco through half-closed and angry eyes. �You will never affect me in any way, Malfoy, that I don�t absolutely want,� he said deliberately. �And now you know how much I don�t want you.� He took another step back for emphasis. His breath came in heavy pants, but he kept his eyes focused, glaring into Draco�s. �Must be tough having your sole reason for living taken away from you.�

I'm calm, I'm calm, I'm not out of breath... I'm absolutely cold-flame fucking furious. "My God, the Chudley Cannons have broken up?" Draco inquired, and yes, he was still panting and they were still staring at each other with hot, hazy, hooded intensity, but it was a good line! "Oh wait... you meant you, didn't you? How - sweet. How very - pathetic. And since I'm just about to leave and we're all satisfied this means nothing...' He stepped forward, seized Harry's face in his hand, and with that anger and frustration and the desperate desire to prove Potter wrong and to - to just do this, he bit savagely on Harry's lower lip.

Harry didn�t even think about the cry of pain that left him, nor the fact that it sounded much more like a moan than an out-and-out cry. All he knew was that Malfoy was a total bastard and that he was hellbent on taking everything away from him one way or the other; first privacy, next physical space, now even his own body, which insisted on betraying him the moment Malfoy touched him again. �You bastard,� he hissed, and then he closed his eyes and attacked�attacked�Malfoy�s mouth, in the most violent, vicious, enraged flurry of bites he could manage. And this�this was so much better than swinging punches. He didn�t even realize he had found his way past Draco�s lips until his tongue met the roof of Malfoy�s mouth, and he heard the clack of teeth against teeth in response.

Harry Potter was biting him. Of all the ways this could have gone... He was biting him and he seemed to be attacking him in the most irrational and lustful way possible and this was messy and hot and - God, he needed some control here, and he'd have it, he would, but just now he needed to push back against Harry's lips and slide his mouth against them and then, very carefully, stilling the bites for a moment as Harry made a small, small sound, he licked the inside of Harry's cheek, and then along his tongue, and then when he panted he bit him again and slammed him against the door.

No. He did not just stick his tongue in Harry�s mouth only to remove it. Oh, hell, no. This was not, never would it be, Malfoy�s show. �Who do you think you�re fooling, Malfoy?� Harry hissed, hooking his leg around Draco�s knee and jerking forward so that his leg buckled. When Draco fell towards him Harry placed his hand on his chest; with the other he grabbed Draco firmly around the waist. �You think I want you, is that it? You think you can tease me and let me go and I�ll be incoherent with longing for you? This isn�t that kind of a game and you know it.� His eyes held Draco�s for a moment, before taking his mouth over and kissing him, as hard as he could.

Draco hesitated, threw his weight against Harry and tumbled to the ground on top of him. Harry didn't even seem to notice, just kept kissing him breathless, and Draco planned to keep it that way. "Oh no," he panted out, biting, sucking, licking. He leaned in as Harry arched and opened his mouth against his neck for a vicious, hungry bite. "I can see you're not affected at all..." His hand brushed smoothly down Harry's chest towards the already disarranged towel.

Harry gasped�pain shot through him as Draco bit down, but it also felt good, in ways he didn�t necessarily want to think about. �I told you,� he growled, grappling with Draco in order to pull him closer, primarily so that he could enjoy the exquisite sensation of Draco�s erection brushing against his own, which was now very noticeable through the towel, �You�ll never affect me unless I want you to.� He licked a trail over Draco�s chin, down to his Adam�s apple, rolling Draco over and trapping him beneath him. �What I want right now has nothing to do with you.� He kissed him again, enjoying the coolness of Draco�s mouth, reminding himself fiercely that this was nothing more than something primal and undeniable that had nothing to do with either of them. Hormones were, after all, a universal affliction.

'Oh well then," Draco said , trying to be light. "I suppose I'll just be off and leave you to it then, shall I?" He looked up at Harry, tried to look aloof and amused past the blinding lust and up at Harry, who was sweaty and determined and insane looking. It was very, very hot. But... Malfoys had their fucking dignity. He wasn't anybody's sex toy, no matter how much passing appeal the idea held. His hand found, twisted round and deftly unknotted the tie in Harry's towel. "If this could be anyone" he whispered, "should I," and his hand disappeared inside, "just leave and fetch someone else? A little less embarrassing to be caught with? A little more female? You can say what you want, but if it could be anyone-" don't moan when he licks you, don't moan - "then it wouldn't be me... so� I think it has to be me." A slow stroke. "I'd value your input."

Harry wished he could have done anything rather than close his eyes under the deftness of Malfoy�s hand on his cock. The certainty that all of this was completely insane flitted through his brain, but it was gone under the wave of pleasure accompanied by those fingers slowly beginning to move over his shaft. He bit his lip with all his might and levelled his gaze on Malfoy. Slowly, he lowered his hand over Draco�s lips and began to trace them with his fingertips, at the same speed of Draco�s hand on his erection. �You always talk so well, Malfoy,� he murmured. �But you�re the one with your hand between my legs. Aren�t you the pretty little hypocrite?� He kept his voice low and hypnotic, mesmerised by Draco�s eyes. �And you won�t stop, will you. You won�t stop, because you don�t want to, do you. You like how it feels to touch me like this. Probably feels like the fulfilment of a lifelong dream�doesn�t it, Malfoy?�

And that was just more than bloody enough. No matter how hot, no matter how much he suddenly wanted this... insanity... he wasn't going to take this. He wouldn't be *Draco Malfoy* if he did. And Draco was the person Harry wanted. No matter what he bloody thought. 'No, actually,' Draco said, and removed his hand, watching the gasp and jerk with a sort of empty amusement. 'Sweet of you to call me pretty, of course, but playing around with virgins is only so much fun.'

Harry glowered and gripped Draco�s robefront angrily, jamming his knee up against Draco�s thigh, pinning him into place. �Is that your daydream, then? That I�m a blushing virgin? Think I�ve been waiting for you?� He bent his head and slicked his tongue over Draco�s collarbone, nibbling and sucking the soft skin in the dip of Draco�s throat. �I�m surprised you�d even come up with that fantasy, considering you only want what you can�t have.� He pulled away slightly, eyes meeting Draco�s. �What you�re not going to have.�

"I don't have any fucking fantasies, Potter," Draco gasped. "This is just as unexpected for me as it is for you. The only difference is that I'm not being so fucking stupid about it. There's a reason it's me, and a reason it's you, and the reason I won't have it is because I don�t want it if you won't admit it. So stop being a cocktease, you little bastard, or keep on going actually because-" Draco bit him softly - "I rather like it. But just fucking admit it. Or - " He got up and brushed himself off - "don't. See you around."

Harry let Draco push him off of him, heart beating, pounding in his chest as he watched the other boy stand. He got to his feet mechanically, eyes on Malfoy, half-wary of speech because he couldn�t quite wrap his brain around what Draco had just said�and more importantly, around what he felt. He heard himself say softly, and not at all like the defiant tone he had been aiming for, �Why do you want me to admit it, Malfoy? What difference does it make? We still hate each other.� A pause for too long. �Don�t we?�

"Oh, I thought I was nothing to you? Of course we do," Draco said softly, looking down at Harry. "That's the whole point."

"Then... why..." Harry trailed off, looking at Draco in bewilderment. "I don't understand you. What do you want from me?"

Harry was lying on the floor, looking aroused and confused and very naked. It was time for Extreme Self Control. 'I thought that was obvious,' Draco said brightly. "I'm not anyone's faceless doll. and I wouldn't be yours, Harry. But if you think that there wouldn't be any reason it'd be my name you screamed..." He shrugged. "I hate you," he added, almost absently. "Bye.�

Harry blinked at Malfoy's retreating figure. Harry? He had just called him Harry. And... and... He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He felt as dizzy as if he'd been drinking, but suddenly--unmistakably--he saw everything clearly. "Malfoy, wait." The words tumbled out before he could measure them.

Draco turned around. "Yes?" he asked, and fixed his eyes on... er, something. "By the way, man, for God's sake fasten up your towel.' He wasn't waiting. He was lounging.

Harry launched himself to his feet in one graceful motion--letting the towel fall to the floor. He crossed to Draco and lifted his chin, looking him square in the eye. "You only hate me because you're afraid that's all I'll ever feel for you," he muttered. "Admit it.�

I'm so clothed, Draco thought smugly through the heart failure. That gives me the edge, right? "I think you're the one who needs to do the admitting, Potter. Until you've lost this whole Boy who proved Denial wasn't just a river in Egypt thing, I don't have to admit anything. I'm not the one who said they felt nothing."

Harry tilted his head. Oh. Draco was beautiful when he was cornered. Really. "So you're saying you feel things for me?"

"Of course," Draco answered, mildly amused. "Rage, hate, loathing... passion. I don't do denial. Depravity's much more fun."

Harry stepped closer. "Really. That's all, is it?" He leaned in and brought his lips near Draco's, where they lingered, so, so tantalizingly. "Then," he whispered, "Deprave this." And he kissed Draco, as he had never kissed anyone before.

Oh. Okay. No, Potter might not be a virgin, and Draco was not going to swoon because Malfoys were constitutionally incapable of it. He leaned into the kiss, aching sweet and wild and oh, look, that's right, Potter was naked... He kissed back and it was good and it was hot and... "The situation still hasn't changed, Potter." He stepped back. "like I said," he tossed over his shoulder, "if it could be anyone, it's not going to be me."

Somewhere between the beginning of the kiss and the sensation of Draco's tongue against his, and the moan he emitted into Draco's mouth as he pulled away, Harry realised something that was worse, far worse, than any attraction he could ever feel for the Slytherin: he realised that Draco was right.

Oh.

He straightened and gripped Draco's shoulder, spinning him around. "Actually, your line is, "Stop being such a goddamn tease and kiss me again. Or is that my line? I don't think it matters anymore, do you?"

"I think you heard what I said, Potter," Draco said softly. "And in a moment, I am opening this door. So, prepare for either horrified screams or Ginny Weasley's sexual molestations."

Harry gulped. "Why? Why does it matter so much to you that I say what you already know?" His voice had dropped to a whisper, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt...afraid. He was too afraid even to laugh at Draco. Because if he laughed, Draco might turn the knob, and then... then... no. that wasn't going to happen.

Draco pushed his hand through his hair. "How the fuck am I supposed to know things when you keep spitting the opposite at me, Potter?" Draco asked, suddenly finding the rage again. "I think I've been the upfront one here. I don't intend to lay myself on the line just for a quick shag. So thanks, but no thanks.'

"But I'm the one who's kissing you and you're the one who's backing away! Don't start in with the hypocritical rage now! You're not fooling anyone. You--" Harry stopped short, thrown off completely by Draco's next retort. ..."Oh. Oh. I--you... you're saying... you want ...I mean... um. Oh."

Draco raved, absolutely aware that he was critically insane, "Don't open your eyes all wide at me and bloody well expect me to melt!"

Which was, of course, exactly what Harry did.

"I don't melt, and I am not taken easily, with a little kiss after a lot of crap, and so... for God's sake, Harry - Potter, Potter-'

"You said it again," Harry gasped, and he did sound breathless, and he knew it, but he didn't bloody well care.

"Yes, yes, people say your name all the time, you recognise it, someone give the dog a bone." Draco said, aware that he was blushing and furious about it. He wasn't naked, was he? "I... this has just been quite enough. I'm sick of your hot/cold little games, and I'm angry, and I'm leaving." And I've said that far too many times without doing it, Draco thought uncomfortably.

Harry blinked at Draco. "People don't say my name like that, though," he said very smugly, aware that Draco was completely at a disadvantage, and that he kept staring at Harry's erection. "They don't say it like they can't get enough of it. Is that how you feel, Draco?" He didn't mean to, but he sort of cooed Draco's name. "Why do you keep saying you're leaving when you're still here? What does that mean?" He stepped closer. "I think you should stay."

"And again with the games," Draco snapped. "Draaaaco, and oh! I suppose we'd better shag then! Sorry, I'm not gullible, I'm not an idiot, and I'm not to be taken easily. And now--" he put his hand on the doorknob and turned--"I really am leaving." The door opened wide.

"But why?" Harry cried. "You started this, you were pissed because i didn't bloody throw myself at you and now I am sodding throwing myself at you and you're running away and yet you talk to ME about playing games, and--and--and don't you dare open that door, Malfoy, or I'll let everyone know you came on to me.� He fidgeted. "And--and--I think you should stay," he ended a little helplessly.

"Oooh, Potter, I am scared. And what the hell else am I supposed to call it when you say one thing and then say the other and fucking well hurt - I mean confuse! - me! and I am fucking opening this door!" And he already had.

Harry's voice was ragged. "Draco," he said, as calmly as he could. "Don't go. I want you to stay. Please. I--... I didn't know--I didn't know I was hurting you. I didn't know..... And, um, now I do, and, um, I'm sorry, and I--I want you stay with me. And I want you to kiss me again. Because, well, you're a good kisser. And, um. I like the way you look in your quidditch robes. And I like the way you look at me." He gulped. "Please, Draco. Please. Stay." He fidgeted and looked at the floor, suddenly all too aware of his nakedness.

"I... Oh, fuck it," Draco gasped, and shut the door. Face it, if Ginny had gone for Harry now, he'd have to wrestle her for him. He reached over and kissed him, lightly. 'I'm not falling for your big-eyed routine' he informed him.

Harry looked up, eyes suddenly wider than ever. "Yes you are," he grinned, wrapping his arms around Draco.

"And everybody likes the way I look in my Quidditch robes," Draco continued, being relentless and still managing to kiss his neck in an interesting licking fashion. "But I'm told," oh dear God, he was panting, but it was okay because that was definitely a moan and he could give an impish smile. "I look even better without them."

Harry 'hmm'd and lifted Draco's chin, completely done in by that cocky little grin Draco was wearing. "It took you long enough to get around to it," he murmured, kissing him thoroughly, and slipping a hand inside the waistband of Draco's trousers.

"Shirt first," Draco said, With Quite an Adequate Amount of Breath, Thank You. "These are the rules." So, rather slowly because he was pure evil, he took off his shirt. Harry didn't remove his hand, but Draco kindly overlooked this.

Suddenly the fact that Draco had been, well, right, about Harry being in denial started to seem less important, because kissing Draco had considerably more advantages than kissing anybody else. The rippling of Draco's muscles certainly was an additional selling point. Catching his own breath, he ran his free hand over the line of Draco's chest, and lowered his lips to caress a nipple. This striptease was all well and good, but they had more important matters to resolve.

Like who was going to be on top.

Draco kissed him again, running teeth lightly along his collarbone and trailing a hand down his spine. "Hmmm... I still ... I still hate you, you realise...' He pushed Harry against the wall. "And I know exactly what you're thinking."

Harry smiled and worried his nipple between his fingers. "Yes, just like you knew exactly what I was thinking this whole time, is that it?" He chuckled and stuck his tongue inside of Draco's ear. Now that was an interesting reaction. "Just like you were expecting that, right?"

"Ahhhh! Bloody hell, I was trying to think. And being an evil mastermind, I have come up with a solution." Draco pushed him backward, leaned down and bit his nipple, just to punish him.

Harry gasped and then let out a breathless laugh. "What do I have to do to get you to say what you fucking well mean, for once, Malfoy?" He pushed Draco's hair back from his forehead, then ran his fingers through it. Ooh. That was nice.

"We're going to have to do it twice," Draco said in a matter-of -fact manner. "It's tough, but there it is. We all have to make these sacrifices. I am prepared to stay here as long as it takes for the sake of equity."

Harry paused in running his hand over Draco's hair. "Why, Draco. Whoever would have pegged you for a fair player? I can't imagine what brought about this change." His grin was starting to feel permanent now.

"As for the first time..." Again for the sake of equity, sucking on the other nipple was important. "I'll flip you for it." He looked up at Harry and grinned evilly. "Though I suppose the chances of you having a Knut on you right now are... very small..."

Harry looked at Draco blankly, then contorted in loud laughter that threatened to attract the attention of Mrs. Norris all the way back at the castle. Still cackling, he drew Draco up and kissed him, his laughter thrumming inside of Draco's lips. He was suddenly oh, oh, so glad they had done this. Well, technically, glad Draco had forced his hand. He pulled away, loving the brightness in Draco's eyes. "Just this once," he breathed, nuzzling Draco's neck, "I'll let you go first."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Potter..." Draco pouted, and was distracted by the bite. "You take all the fun out of trick coins. Now..." he stood up, undid one button of his trousers, and said, "Come help me with these, and then make it up to me."

Harry smirked and put his hand in a very very naughty place. "I promise, Malfoy," he smirked. "I plan to do a lot of making up to you."

Draco promptly tackled Harry to the floor, shoved his tongue in his mouth and purred into Harry's throat, 'I hope so...'

Harry moaned, ran his hands over Draco's chest, and went to work on the buttons of Draco's fly. "You won't be disappointed, Malfoy," he murmured. "You were right--it took me a while to wise up." He smiled, and Draco smiled, and, if it were possible, was suddenly even sexier. "But I promise you--if there's one thing I'm good at," he continued, "It's making up for lost time." And before Draco could respond, he had kissed him again.

After all, why waste words, when he could be proving his point?

The End