Disclaimer: Dinna own JKR's wonderfully fanfic-suited characters, she does. She also owns millions of pounds! Unfortunately, I can't take that either, or her nice big house in London (oh to live in London ::dreamy:: and it's only two hours away.::singsong:: Oh London, over the Medway and far away.) or whatever else she's managed to acquire ( I'm just borrowing her characters for a little bit.don't look at me like that, it's better than "borrowing" her millions of pounds or her nice big house in London, isn't it? ^____^;;
A/N: Lord of the Rings is out, woo-hoo! ::dances round:: Orlando Bloom, yummy.
Warning: ::Richard Attenborough voice:: The great and almighty elusive PLOT begins to emerge. Don't make any loud noises because you will startle it and it will go hide under its rock again, which is bad. So behave ( because I wish to study it more.and maybe utilise it for my own evil purposes.
Summary: The final battle is approaching, and no one is under any illusions. This is, and always was, Harry Potter's fight. While he himself tries to prepare for what lies ahead, treated as though the fight is already lost, difficulties occur in the form of Draco Malfoy. Death Eater, spy of Voldemort, or the greatest love he'll ever have?
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Knowing Shadows
Draco Malfoy trudged bad-tempered towards McGonagall's office, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. His lips were set in an angry scowl, and those remaining students wandering Hogwarts' many twisting passageways were quick to step out of his way. Word of Malfoy's attempted attack on Ron Weasley had spread like wildfire. And with a reputation like Malfoy's, you stepped out of his way anyway, unless you were one of his friends. Draco Malfoy was beautiful but deadly and everyone knew it.
Malfoy considered attempting to bat his eyelashes at McGonagall in a pathetic attempt to get out of too much trouble, but quickly decided it would do no good. He found it darkly funny that a thought such as that had somehow wormed itself into his head.
//Maybe those people on the train brought my ring here. Would McGonagall have it?//
The loss of his ring - which had actually been a present from his mother - had not really upset him as much as he had led people to believe. Though he was angered over the way in which it was taken, he was secretly glad to have it gone. What he had said to Granger was a lie. Yes, he knew there were spells in it. But he knew exactly what they were.
Dark Arts spells, yes, but Dart Arts spells only because of who they were linked to. Simple communication-following spells, but linked to He Who Must Not Be Named through his father. Progress checking. Voldemort's way of checking up on him. He'd been trying to think of a way to get rid of it.
Part of him wanted to leave it wherever it was, but another part warned him that Voldemort would sense something was wrong and punish him, or not believe his excuse if it came down to it. He imagined that the Ministry of Magic would work out the spells and somehow trace them back to Voldemort and his family.he'd be permanently disgraced. His father would kill him. He didn't even want to know what Voldemort would do to him.
He didn't usually go into McGonagall's office, and he had seriously thought of just not turning up, but he realised that that would not help him much this year. He'd take it like a man, his pride demanded no less. That didn't make him a very happy person, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
Draco wondered what kind of punishment he could be given. McGonagall was infamous for her strict dealing with her own house, so there was no telling what she'd do to a student of her rival house. Snape had not said a word to him about it, but it was easy to see that he had disapproved of the behaviour. He may hate the Gryffindors, but that didn't warrant an attack. Draco knew that as well as anyone.
He reached McGonagall's office and knocked on the door. A voice from inside told him to enter, so he did so. The Professor was sitting at her desk by the window, the wide brim of her hat throwing much of her face into shadow. She was writing on some parchment, her quill scratching against the paper.
"Sit down, Mr Malfoy," she said, and her tone of voice told him that she was still angry with him. He quietly sat down and patiently waited for her to speak. Malfoy only brought out his good manners on special occasions, and he thought that this might count as one.
After a while, the quill scratching being the only thing that broke the silence, McGonagall finally looked up at him. Her mouth was set in a thin line, eyes cold. "And, Mr Malfoy, what justified you pulling out a wand on a fellow Hogwarts student in the main hall, I ask?"
Malfoy stayed silent, watching her levelly. He had no excuse, he knew that, besides his temper. "Weasley challenged me," he muttered finally, when he realised he was expected to say something.
"After some rude provoking, I'll bet," the Professor replied sharply, giving him a look she might have given something a whole lot lower than she was. Draco inwardly scowled at her, keeping his face perfectly blank. He knew he had no case against Weasley that she'd believe. Favouritism indeed.
"I didn't do anything," he lied sullenly.
McGonagall just looked at him, eyebrows raised in obvious disbelief. She sighed lightly and pulled out a sheaf of papers from under the parchment she was writing on. "You came here to discuss your punishment with me, Mr Malfoy, so that is what we shall do. Luckily for you, and for me, I have something lined up for you. I was going to make you do it anyway, but now I have a proper excuse for doing it."
Draco stared at her indignantly. "What? You were going to punish me for nothing?"
"This is not a punishment." McGonagall put the papers in front of him, watching him closely. She folded her hands on the desk, the sleeves of the robe almost swamping her thin arms. "But you will see it as such."
Draco suspiciously took the papers and skimmed the front page. His gaze immediately went to the top of the page, locked on the words there. He stared at it for a long time, not quite wanting to understand what McGonagall was proposing.
"You must be joking," he said. "You can't make a student do that."
He looked up and a tight-lipped smile had appeared on McGonagall's face. It was the first semblance of a smile that Draco had ever seen on her face. She was trying not to laugh at him, he knew it. His insides boiled with fury.
"Oh yes, Mr Malfoy," she said quietly. "I can make you do that."
About half an hour later, while Draco Malfoy was still in Professor McGonagall's office, working out the details of his task after failing to worm out of doing it, Harry Potter sat in a chair in Dumbledore's office, nervously twitching his fingers in his lap.
He was watching the Headmaster, who was sifting through a whole folder of papers filled with spidery handwriting. Harry had been told to come in and wait for a minute or two. He'd been here ten minutes now, and it looked like Dumbledore was no nearer to finding what he was looking for.
Fawkes was preening on his perch, magnificent as always. Harry remembered how the phoenix had looked when he'd first seen the bird: bedraggled and old. It was hard to imagine that ghostly image when confronted with the phoenix now.
Harry looked up, startled. Dumbledore, smiling to himself, was holding a small folder of papers he had found somewhere. He walked to his desk and sat down, placing the folder on the table. He grinned at Harry. "I'm sorry for calling you out like this, but today the staff received word of some concentrated incidences from the Ministry of Magic. We've looked through the information they've given us, and at what they want from us, and the staff and myself have decided on a course of action we should take."
"Excuse me, sir, but.what are you talking about?"
Dumbledore's eyes wrinkled at the edges as he smiled again. "An intelligent question, Harry. What am I talking about? I'm talking about Voldemort, my boy. The Ministry of Magic have asked me for help. There have been a lot of incidences related to Voldemort and his followers in the South of England, mainly in Kent, Sussex and Surrey."
Harry stared at Dumbledore in shock. Surrey.that's where the Dursleys lived. And about as far away from Hogwarts as they could get if they stayed on the mainland. Were they hoping that the wizards and witches would be deployed down to the Southeast, splitting up the side of Good and therefore helping Evil out?
"But what does this have to do with me, Professor? Unless you're just keeping me informed."
"No, there is a point to this." Dumbledore pushed the folder of papers to Harry. "This is what the Ministry sent us. It details all the incidences and what they think could be done about it. What they want us to do is pick some spies to go down to Kent, where they think Voldemort is, and just snoop around for a bit to see what they can find."
There was a knot of dread slowly forming in Harry's stomach. He left the folder untouched on the desk. "You.you want me to be a spy for you?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly, just as Harry was beginning to hope that he had misread the situation. The cold dread fused to his insides. "But," Dumbledore said, "only if you are willing to do it."
Harry wanted to back out of it immediately. His first instinct was to say "Sorry, no can do" and be done with it. Unfortunately, a little niggling voice in the back of his head was now beginning to call him a coward, and Harry Potter was anything but a coward. He sighed and stared dejectedly down at his lap.
"I suppose so."
Dumbledore beamed in delight. "Well done, Harry. Wonderful. Very brave of you. Of course, you won't be leaving until just after Christmas. The Ministry have to scout out somewhere safe for you to stay, and try and find out a little more detail before we send you out there. I know it's odd, asking for students to go, but none of the staff can be spared, and some of the seventh years, yourself included, have equal wizarding talent to some of the staff, if not more! And you're all adults now."
"I know. We've had this talk from Professor Lupin."
"Professor Lupin? Yes, yes, he's a man who knows what he's talking about. Fine man." Dumbledore nodded to himself, then towards the folder before Harry. "Take it. It details everything we know so far. You'll need to read up on it before you go. But don't go showing everyone, Harry. It's supposed to be secret."
Harry nodded, eyes still lowered. He didn't like this one bit. "Okay, Professor." A thought suddenly struck him. He looked up at Dumbledore. "I'm not going alone, am I?"
He was surprised to find a smile spread itself across the Headmaster's face. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously. "No, of course not."
Harry's stomach plummeted.
The Slytherin seventh years were sitting around the fire, talking amongst themselves when the dungeon door opened with a slight hissing sound of stone scraping against stone. Several pairs of eyes looked over to find a fuming figure stalking into the Slytherin common room, grey eyes almost glowing in anger. He looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall, or tear one of the lanterns from their holdings.
Malfoy got annoyed quite regularly, but he almost never got furious, like he seemed to be now. His lips were pulled back over even white teeth in a snarl of rage, skin deathly pale against his black robes. As the door slid closed behind him, he stormed across the room towards them. Pansy shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not wanting to do anything to make her former crush even more upset than he already was.
"ARGH!" The seventh years, the only ones still awake, all jumped at the sudden yell of frustration, and scattered out of the way as Draco suddenly gripped the edge of a table and flipped it over with an almighty crashing noise, shoulders heaving. One of the wooden legs snapped off in his hand, and he stared at it numbly before letting out another cry and hurling it across the room at the wall. It hit one of the lanterns, the glass shattering, and the green light flickered out, leaving one patch of wall in darkness.
"I don't believe her!" Malfoy yelled, slumping down in one of the larger chairs. "Where does she get off ordering me around like that?"
Draco had just been to Professor McGonagall's office to discuss his punishment after he had pulled out his wand on Ron Weasley. From Draco's words so far, it hadn't gone well.
"Are you okay?" Pansy asked cautiously, reaching out with one hand, but stopping when she realised what she was doing. "What happened?"
Draco slammed his fist down onto the arm of his chair. "She's sending me out of bloody Hogwarts, that's what she's doing!"
The seventh years exchanged panicked looks between them. "You're being expelled?"
Malfoy snorted, shaking his head firmly and curling his fingers around the arms on the chair, staring at a spot on the wall opposite him. "Don't be daft," he said. "They wouldn't expel a student at a time like this. No, she's decided I'm going off spying after Christmas!" He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Spying?" Pansy seemed to be the only one willing to speak in the wake of Draco's anger. Several of the others were still eyeing the table and broken lamp with uncertainty. "Against You Know Who?"
"Who do you think?" Draco muttered darkly, frowning. "But it gets better, Pansy. Oh so much better."
She scowled, not understanding. Pansy hated it when she was kept in the dark about things.
"Guess where I'm going."
Draco chuckled. "They're sending me down south, Pansy. Right down to Kent." 
"Kent? But that's the other end of the country!" Pansy shrieked in horror. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"
"No.McGonagall said it wasn't rigidly timed unless events spurred it that way." Draco shrugged and sighed, rubbing his temple. "There is an upside to it though. I'm being excused from my exams this year. I automatically get my predicted grades until otherwise notified."
"Oh." Pansy fidgeted. "Are you being sent by yourself?"
"No." Draco smirked. "Not by any means."
"Who are you going with?"
"Cheer up, Harry."
The green-eyed teenager's eyes blearily wandered over to Ron's face. This new mission was playing heavily on his mind. So heavily, in fact, that he'd forgotten his glasses that morning when he left the common room, only realising it wasn't his glasses that needed changing when Hermione asked him what he thought he was doing without them.
He couldn't be bothered to make his way back up to the common room before breakfast. Hermione offered and had darted off without him saying a word. Ron and Harry were sitting at the table eating breakfast.
"You've been awfully miserable this morning," Ron continued, giving Harry a stern look, though his friend wouldn't be able to form an expression from the blurry mess that was Ron's face. Well, it was a blurry mess to him anyway.
"Just thinking," Harry replied, spearing his fork downwards and hoping he'd hit a piece of bacon. There was no screech of metal against his plate, so he assumed he'd got something. He lifted his fork to his mouth and was pleased to find that yes, he had managed to get some bacon.
"You've been thinking a lot recently."
"Care to tell me what it's about? I feel left out, you know."
Harry chuckled. "Left out? You've got Hermione. I haven't got anyone. I'm the one who feels left out sometimes."
The guilt came off Ron in waves. Harry didn't have to be able to see to be able to feel it. "Yeah, I'm sorry," Ron said softly. "We don't mean to."
"I know. I'm not really bothered. You are going out, after all. I expected it!"
"Well, why don't you find a girlfriend? I know there's plenty who'd love to go out with you-" Ron immediately launched into a list of names, cheerful once again. Harry listened bemusedly until Ron started getting into the names of Slytherin girls.
"Whoa whoa whoa! Hang on!" Harry laughed as Ron spluttered to a halt. "You're forgetting one tiny detail, Ron."
"What detail?" Ron asked, puzzled.
"That thing I told you about last year."
"The thing that made you hate me for four months until you realised I wasn't about to ravage you every time we were alone."
Ron blinked at Harry's bluntness, suddenly realising what he was talking about. His ears flushed pink. "Oooooooh.that." He grinned sheepishly. "I forgot."
Harry rolled his eyes, hands resting in his lap. "Honestly, Ron."
Ron shrugged at him, stuffing half an egg in his mouth. "So?" he said around the egg. "Why can't you at least try going out with a girl? How do you know you like." He lowered his voice awkwardly. "How do you know you like boys? You've never been out with one."
"You don't have to go out with one to know you like them!" Harry snickered. "Stop trying to straighten me out, it gets annoying. And remember, I did go out with a girl. It didn't work."
"Maybe you just weren't meant to be with Cho. Doesn't mean you have to decide you don't like girls anymore." Ron said this quite matter-of-factly.
"I broke up with Cho because I didn't like girls anymore."
"Cor, make your mind up, Harry. Why don't you just be bi? Then you can switch all you like and no-one can blame you for being picky."
Harry, halfway through his glass of milk, spluttered it everywhere in fits of laughter. Ron just stared at him, then dissolved into laughter as well. Hermione appeared, frowning when she saw them. She hand the glasses to Harry. "Here you go." She sat beside Ron, who was still trying to stifle his laughter. "What're you two laughing about?"
"Long story," Harry managed to say. He managed to calm down with some deep breaths, then grinned. "Thanks, Ron, I feel better now."
Ron grinned wickedly. "Maybe we should set you up with Malfoy."
Ron laughed out loud again at Harry's indignant reaction. "Heh heh. Come on, Harry, he must be bi at least. He's never actually been out with anyone, not even Pansy."
"Yeah, but he's probably slept with half the Slytherins, though," Hermione pointed out darkly, glaring over Harry's shoulder at where the blond boy sat. Draco was glowering fixedly in their direction. More accurately, straight at Harry's back. "And he's now glaring at your shoulder blades, Harry. Don't know why, though, they're not particularly offensive."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "That was quite.Monty Python-y humour there, Hermione, for lack of a better description."
"Monty what?" This came from Ron.
"Monty Python," Hermione repeated for Ron's benefit. "And thank you, Harry. I'll take it as a compliment."
"It was meant as one." Harry smiled. "Draco's glaring at my back, is he?"
Harry snorted. "I can guess why. You know what I told you last night, about what Dumbledore said to me."
The other two nodded. Hermione frowned in worry - she was not in favour of Harry going. In fact, neither was Ron.
"Well, Draco's going to be coming with me."
Hermione just blinked at Harry, and Ron almost fell off his chair, he was laughing so hard. Harry waited for him to calm down again. Ron wiped the tears from his eyes. "Oh boy, Harry and Draco together.alone."
"Stop it, Ron."
"Well, two teenage boys, not getting some either way, hormones raging.it can only be a matter of time before someone snaps."
"I bet it'd be Draco," Hermione piped in. "He seems like the passionate, sex-mad type. He won't be able to control himself."
Harry's expression was pained. "Ew.I now have the worst mental image in the history of horrible mental images, thank you very much."
Ron and Hermione were not deterred. They started speaking in mock excitement together. "Oh no," Ron was saying, "we tried to keep them apart, but love will prevail! They won't be able to stay away from each other!"
"And who are we to stand in the way of that!" Hermione continued with obvious insincerity. Harry raised an eyebrow in disgust. Hermione only ever acted silly when she was with Ron. He wanted her to go back to being sensible old Hermione. He wasn't liking the uncomfortable turn this conversation had taken.
"I know!" Ron started fake crying. "You have our blessings, Harry! Be free, be happy with yourself and who you are, and don't you dare let him get off easy in Quidditch matches just because you're sleeping with him!"
Hermione pulled back and scowled. "Ron, there are no Quidditch matches this year."
Ron stared. "Oh. Damnit."
"You've spoiled it now!"
Harry coughed politely. "I hope you weren't being serious. That was about the scariest conversation I can remember having with you in a loooooong history of scary conversations."
Ron snickered at him, running a hand through his gingery-red hair. "Nah, I was kidding. Promise me, though, Harry, that you won't start fancying Malfoy? Please? I really don't think I could cope with seeing you and him together."
Harry smiled. Hermione frowned, thinking she saw strain at the edges.
"I don't think there's a chance in Hell that we'd end up together," Harry said. "I promise I won't start fancying Malfoy."
//I can keep this promise.//
Ron grinned in relief. "Thank God for that."
//Because.I think I already do fancy him.//
Harry's smile widened. Even Hermione couldn't tell that it was forced.
//I won't have just started fancying him.so I'm not breaking the promise.//
"Good ol' Harry!" Ron cried, shoving a bit of bacon in his mouth as he grinned wider.
//So that counts, right? I'm not breaking the promise.//
"Yeah." Harry's smile faded a little bit. "Good old Harry."
Lessons went normally once again. They had another Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Lupin, where they continued looking at the Unforgivable Curses. It was an unpleasant, if necessary, lesson. Harry had resolved to concentrate in all his lessons fully now, since he would be out in the wide world after Christmas and would be using spells for real. Suddenly he really wished he had backed out on Dumbledore's offer.
//But then.I wouldn't be going with Draco, would I?//
He was quite disturbed with the little thought that he might actually like Draco Malfoy. It had come to him last night while he was in bed, looking through the folder. There were profiles of the students being considered for the two spy posts, and Draco's had been there, a picture attached to the top. It was a Muggle photo, though. None of the students had been moving in their pictures. Draco was staring out of the paper, grey eyes bright, blond hair wispy and light and oh-so-touchable. His high cheekbones were unusually pronounced in the pictures due to the shadows cast, giving him a slightly hollow, gaunt look, but it couldn't hide his almost effeminate beauty.
So he thought Draco was beautiful. Big deal. Harry pushed it to the back of his mind. If he didn't think about it, it'd go away. He knew that the more he'd pore over it, the more he'd become convinced that he did like Draco. Which wasn't what he wanted at all.
It got round to lunch. Harry, Ron and Hermione talked without mention of breakfast's strange topic of interest. They trudged to potions and sat down in their now usual seats. Harry was determined to pay attention and not get in trouble. Also, concentrating on Snape (horrible as that might have been) would keep his eyes from wandering over to the other side of the classroom where a certain blond was sitting-
//No! Stop it!//
Somehow he managed to get in trouble anyway. He didn't know what for, but suddenly Snape had come over, looked at his potion (which he done exactly as Snape had told them to), grunted and said, "5 points from Gryffindor, Potter", before walking away again. He hadn't given a reason, causing uproar from the Gryffindors. They were lucky not to get a detention.
"He just did it because you were doing it perfectly!" Hermione said after lessons as they walked back to the common room. "He's a grumpy old so-and- so."
"And you figured this out when?" Ron asked sarcastically.
Hermione gave him a withering look. "Be quiet, Ron."
"Yes, ma'am," Ron said, making a face.
Hermione gave him another look as they started up the staircase to the common room. "Come on, when we get back we'd better start on that homework."
They hadn't gotten a detention, no, but Snape had given the Gryffindors an extra load of homework to make up for it.
The library wasn't deserted, so to speak, but it wasn't crowded either. The lights were dimmed because there weren't many students about. Maybe most of them didn't have lots of homework to do from a grumpy professor, Draco didn't know, but he didn't think it was fair that he had to be traipsing around the library searching for a book on a root he'd never heard of when no-one else was.
"Who uses 'root of iyasin' anyway?" Draco muttered, squinting at the spines of the hundreds of books. He didn't have a clue where to look for a book on it anyhow. Basically he was stumped.
He bet Granger knew what it was. She always did. She'd probably read all about it before she'd even got to Hogwarts. Hell, she probably knew it's atomic structure off by heart. And it wasn't just because he was proud that he wouldn't go and ask for help. He was a Slytherin.a true one at that. Slytherin needed help from no-one.
Snape had probably told them what it was in the lesson. He just hadn't been concentrating. His mind had been on two things - his spying mission, and Harry.
//Always 'Harry' in my head.never really 'Potter', is it?//
He'd had the teasing from some of the Slytherins. His sexual habits weren't secret from his own house. He'd go after anyone if he really wanted them. Of course, after that first time, either he was the one who realised it wasn't worth it, or they were. Not that he was bad in bed, quite the opposite.but that was it. They'd done it. What else was there to do?
Pansy, he realised, had been very quiet about the whole thing. Maybe she was jealous that Potter was spending that time with Draco and she wasn't.or maybe she was jealous that Draco was going to be with Harry and she wasn't..?
No, that was ridiculous. She hated Harry Potter. She always had. Maybe she knew.maybe she knew Draco better than she let on.maybe she knew about him.
//Knew what about me? That I spent half my summer wondering how Harry was doing? Wondering if he was eating alright? Wondering what position he was sleeping in? Or if he had a bed at all.I know all about the Dursleys.God. I really am a pathetic wretch of a man. Mooning over my arch enemy.//
He found a ragged chair in a corner of the library and sat down, sinking into it's comfortable depths with the slightest sigh of pleasure. Oh how he loved chairs. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, closing his eyes as he got a hold of himself. It wasn't like he'd like Harry Potter for long. His fancies always came and went as fast as lightning. That was half the reason why he'd never actually properly gone out with someone. One night stands were all he was good for.
"If you're tired, Malfoy, why don't you go back to your dorm room."
His head snapped up to find a cloaked figure in the aisle in front of him, looking at the spines of books as he had been doing. He scowled at him. "Sod off."
The head turned to face him and the dull light reflected off of round glasses. "I'm looking for a book for homework."
"The root of iyasin? What, Granger doesn't know what it is? Heaven forbid!"
"Shut up, Malfoy. No, she doesn't know." Harry scowled at Draco. "She and Ron nominated me to come down here and look it up. I was hoping I wouldn't see you down here."
"Why, Potter, I'm hurt," Draco drawled, a slight, playful smile curving his lips as he let his eyes rove down Harry's form. He was in shadow, so the black-haired boy wouldn't be able to see. "They probably nominated you so they could get some 'business' done."
"I know that. That's why I came willingly. I'm not stupid."
"Could've fooled me." Draco let his hands rest on his knees. Harry had gone back to looking at the books. Draco watched him intently. This was a game he often played, and one he loved to play. If he ever got someone he liked cornered, especially if it was a boy, he loved to muck around with their heads. Go hot, cold, hot, cold, until they were practically begging for him. And with boys, it was far more fun, since they'd deny they felt anything until they couldn't hold back any longer. He had several pleasant memories of times when those boys had finally snapped. They were better at those times, he'd soon learned.
Today, he decided, he was going to be hot. Teasing Potter would have advantages.he'd find out if Harry had any interest in the same sex at all, to see whether he could do this with him. Of course, teasing The Boy Who Lived would tease him as well, and leave him aching for more. He could handle that.he'd been in that position before. Draco Malfoy's fancies may have been fast and fleeting, but they were powerful.
Hopefully, today he could claim that he'd managed to turn The Boy Who Lived into The Boy Who Was Extremely Desperate For A Shag. Draco smiled to himself. That definitely had a certain ring, and appeal, to it.
//Go slowly.slowly, Draco.he's not a Slytherin. He's a Gryffindor. Someone you hardly know. You can't plunge in yet. Take it slow or you'll scare him off.//
Draco had never had to go slow with someone.all the others had, at some point before he'd got them into bed, knew he wanted them. He was a physical person, and patience did not go with that. He'd have to hold back a bit at first, he realised. Which was going to be hard, especially as a particularly delicious mental picture of him pressing Harry hard against the bookcase, lips crushed to his and hands wandering to places they shouldn't came to mind.
"Well, have you found the book about the iyasin root yet?"
Draco blinked owlishly in the darkness as he returned from fantasy to reality. "Huh?"
"Wakey wakey, Malfoy. The book?"
"Book? Oh, oh, no. I haven't found it. I was bored to death, you know. Libraries aren't my thing."
"I would never have guessed," Harry muttered sarcastically, pulling out a book and settling down on the floor, legs folded beneath him. He started to flip through the pages, frowning in concentration. "Now are you going to sit there or are you going to help me look for this book?"
"Me?" Draco stared in surprise. "Help you? You are joking, right?"
".I suppose I was."
Draco scowled at the flippant tone. He wasn't going to get anywhere with Harry sitting on the floor like a lemon and him folded up in a chair. He was restless already, and they'd been here all of three seconds.
He let out an annoyed sigh and got to his feet. Harry looked up at him, frowning. Draco grabbed the book, closed it and shoved it back on the shelf. "For God's sake, Potter, we both know we won't find anything of any use. Might as well give up now."
Harry climbed to his feet, keep his eyes on Draco all the time. "Well, don't we work well together," he said, sarcasm heavy again. "We're going to be totally hopeless after Christmas."
//Christmas.the spying mission.spying on Voldemort.oh shit. Me and Harry both together near Voldemort.after what Voldemort told me at my father's mansion.after what he wants me to do.//
Maybe starting this game now wasn't such a good idea.maybe he should leave Harry alone altogether. Otherwise.otherwise he'd be playing them both right into Voldemort's hands.
Draco stood straighter, staring Harry in the eyes. "We'll have to work together after Christmas, Harry. I know that, you know that." He lowered his gaze and went to walk past Harry. Unexpectedly, the green-eyed wizard grabbed Draco by the upper arm. Startled, Draco spun to face the person who'd grabbed him and half-stumbled over his feet. "Whoa!" he stumbled forward, holding out a hand against the books to steady himself.
"You called me."
He lifted his head, feeling sudden warm breath on his forehead. His nose brushed Harry's. He felt Harry jump. Draco shuddered, wondering just how close they were if he could feel Harry. His eyes met those dazzling emerald green ones, just inches away.
//This is so clichéd.//
"You called me Harry."
Draco felt himself begin to melt in pleasure as Harry's warm breath tickled his lips. He forced his eyes to stay open as they threatened to flutter closed. Harry was staring at him, shock and fear openly showing. Draco just stared back, rapidly debating what course of action to take.
//I called him Harry. Stupid, stupid Draco! Just give yourself away, you idiot!//
".So I did," Draco whispered in what he hoped was something that vaguely resembled a sensuous murmur. He was usually good at that, and could get anyone going with a few well chosen words, but he was having trouble thinking straight right now.
//Oh.oh.what do I do? I've got him right where I want him.//
He realised he must have sounded somewhat sexy. Harry shivered.
//Sod Voldemort and playing games, I want him bad.//
Draco relaxed his back and found himself leaning into Harry just to catch the last of his tremble. It rushed down his spine and chest and made his thighs and lips tingle. Harry couldn't hold back a gasp at the contact, pleasing Draco no end. The tip of his nose was pressed to Harry's.
"W-What are you doing?" Harry stammered.
"I don't know," Draco murmured truthfully, staring slightly upwards into those wary green eyes. "I really don't know."
//Feels awfully good, though.//
Draco pressed harder into Harry, hard enough to easily feel the contours of the darker boy's body through the robe and cloak. Harry's breath hitched in his throat, his back pushed up against the bookcase.
"M-Malfoy, please, stop-"
//Malfoy. He still called me Malfoy.//
Draco's eyes narrowed. The spell was broken. He stepped back, angry. Dear God, he'd practically been rubbing himself against the boy and Harry still called him Malfoy?
//I don't want to be Malfoy to him.I want to be Draco. I want to hear him say it.//
"Say it," he hissed.
Harry, bewildered and rather steamed up, fumbled to understand. "Huh?"
"Say my name!"
Draco's eyes blazed with irritation. "For God's sake, Harry!" he snapped. "Say my bloody name!"
"I don't.God." Harry's eyes searched his for a moment. He was genuinely frightened by the sudden violent mood swing. "D-Draco-"
"Don't stammer it!" Draco snarled. "Breathe it! I'm sick and tired of being 'Malfoy' to everyone!"
Harry blinked at him behind his glasses. "Draco," he repeated, smooth and easy and his voice barely above a whisper. "Draco."
The blond's temper eased slightly as he listened to Harry say it. He stared across at the green-eyed boy for a moment longer. "Thanks," he murmured finally. "That felt good."
"I didn't.I didn't think it mattered to you.what people called you."
"Then you have a lot to learn about me, Harry."
"You keep calling me Harry."
"I keep thinking you're not Mal - Draco anymore. It's disconcerting."
"You don't like me calling you Harry?"
Harry didn't answer. His eyes lowered, a telltale sign. Draco inwardly danced for joy.
//So, the great Harry Potter has the same weakness for his name on the lips of his enemies.how intriguing.//
Draco began backing away slowly. "Well, this was an interesting meeting. I have lots to think about. I hope.well, I'm pretty sure that you'll have stuff to consider too. Goodnight." He turned to walk off, but stopped. Before he walked off, he added as an afterthought, "I prefer Harry."
Well, that end scene was weird O.o;; First it was just a conversation, then it was straying dangerously close to a kiss I hadn't wanted to be there yet, then it was something about names which I'm pretty sure has some kind of meaning to it o.O;;; but oh well.
 I'm using Kent because I know a lot of it very well, considering it's, well, where I live. "Write what you know". I want to keep the English settings as close to England as possible, and since the only other place in England I know well at all is London, which is far too big and confusing for me anyway, I'm sticking to Kent, plus it has countryside, which is what I need for a later, major chapter/scene.. A fair bit of story will be taking place in and around the north of Kent.
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