Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: The Small Print
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5200 (this part; the whole story: 12K)
Status: Complete!
Summary: Draco should have read the small print.
Note: Uh. Here it is. Thank you for waiting patiently. I hope this meets your expectations. *frets*

Part 1: Why Draco Malfoy Failed His Sixth Year
Part 2: Draco Malfoy and the Evil Number Seven
Part 3: That Thing Called Denial
Part 4: The Small Print

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The Small Print

 

Draco stood frozen and completely nonplussed. He hadn't exactly read what the Daydream Charms packages said, barring the catchy captions, of course. But in Draco's humble opinion, right now, Potter's cryptic statement was the least of his worries. Whatever Potter planned to do or say, it would most certainly be unfavourable for Draco. Therefore Draco's priority was to escape. And that would be difficult, since Potter held him pinned to the wall with his body, and Draco's wand had been tossed somewhere into the dark classroom.

Draco assessed his situation. Potter was standing with his legs spread, holding Draco's own legs captive with his thighs while his right hand gripped Draco's arm almost painfully. His lips were so close to Draco's, it seemed as though he planned to kiss him instead of abuse him. So really, there was only one thing Draco could do. However, that was potentially an embarrassing way of getting out of his current predicament. Draco winced at the mere thought of it, but he was left with no other alternative.

He leaned forward, almost pressing his lips to Potter's, and almost forgetting his plan when Potter gasped and widened his eyes, clearly not expecting this move.

Draco determinedly pushed his sudden, irrational desires away, and moved his lips against Potter's. "I don't give a fuck about your damn small print," he whispered angrily and then brought his leg sharply upwards, slamming his thigh into Potter's balls.

Potter yelped loudly and stumbled backwards, cursing and holding his groin. Freed, Draco leapt towards the place where he thought Potter threw his wand away. It was dark and Draco kept tripping over various chairs and he hit himself more than once on long wooden desks, but he didn't give up. Instead, he searched frantically for his wand, aware that without it he wouldn't be able to open the door.

Potter finally stopped cursing and instead he whispered a vaguely familiar incantation. Draco felt a whoosh of magic and then all the candles around the room were lit, giving him much desired light.

"You're very helpful," Draco praised, immediately spotting his wand a few feet away. He leapt towards it and grabbed it, but the wand was meanly yanked out of his hands and flew towards Potter, who caught it with ease. Draco seethed and glared, more annoyed than scared now. "I hate you," he fumed. "What the fuck do you want? Just leave me alone!"

Potter's face was red, presumably from both anger and pain, but he still managed to grin. The bastard. He held his and Draco's wand in his hand, looking smug. Draco stared at his wand wistfully.

"You wouldn’t have hexed me anyway," Potter declared confidently.

Draco shook his head, incredulous. "Want to bet?"

Potter cocked his head, his mouth stretching into a wider smile. "Depends. When you lose, will you kiss me again?"

"Oh you're funny. Hilarious," Draco grumbled, disturbed by Potter's behaviour. What was the git playing at? He was much too calm, considering the circumstances.

Potter raised his eyebrow and then tossed Draco's wand. It shot towards Draco and he caught it effortlessly. Disbelieving, but not stupid enough to question his luck, he pointed his wand at Potter and sneered.

"Dumb Gryffindor. Now you're mine."

"Oh? Give me your best shot," Potter said unconcernedly, tucking his wand away.

Draco's sneer faltered and he stared at Potter in confusion.

"Whenever you're ready," Potter said after a minute, sounding excessively bored. "Hexing me is the only way you'll get out of this classroom. Or, well, we could talk."

"Talk?" Draco huffed, inwardly annoyed with himself because hexing Potter proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. The words just wouldn't come to him. "I don't want to talk to you, Potter. I don't want to see you. I don't want to kiss you and I most certainly don't want to shag you, if that's what you had in mind. If that little grope in the Hall made you all hot and bothered, you can't just forget about the repeat performance ...?" Draco scowled, upset that his little rant ended up sounding like a question when it was meant to be a firm statement.

Potter was biting his lip, looking delighted and clearly trying not to laugh, though for the life of him, Draco couldn't fathom what was funny.

"You really haven't read the small —"

"Oh would you shut up about the bloody small print!" Draco yelled, annoyed. "What does it say — I'll go bald if I use the Charms too much?" Draco paled. "It doesn't say that, does it?" he breathed, worried.

Potter laughed heartily. "No, that's not what it says. It says something that could be much more embarrassing for you." Potter's eyes twinkled again, or perhaps that was merely some strange play of candlelight, but Draco nonetheless decided that Potter was one mean bastard. Clearly, he had decided to humiliate Draco further. "Look, Malfoy —"

"No, you look," Draco interrupted quickly, and then took a deep breath. He was determined to minimize the damage, and if saying sorry was what it took he would do it. "Yes, fine. I bought the damn Special One Hundred Fantasies Set and yes, I used it. A lot. I did it because ... I did it —"

"For a laugh?" Potter suggested helpfully.

"Yes! Exactly!" Draco exclaimed in triumph. "And yesterday I was ... uh ... Daydreaming — that's capitalized, mind you, I wasn't daydreaming about you. As if! This was different. This was the Charm's doing," Draco paused, mortified. "Well, obviously it wasn't, but I thought it was and that’s the important part. I was just confused and I made a mistake and I'm ... I'm so ... I —"

"Don’t strain yourself," Potter commented dryly.

"It wasn't even my fault!" Draco snapped, forgetting his apology. "It was Pansy's fault. She destroyed my fantasies!" Draco growled as Potter laughed, making Draco realize how that statement sounded. "Shut up!" Draco waved his wand threateningly. "If you really want to blame someone, then blame those nasty twins. They were the ones that thought of this. I'm just a consumer, not an inventor. A very displeased consumer," he added resentfully.

"I'm afraid I can't blame the inventors. I think they're brilliant."

"Oh that's right. We can't blame Saint Weasleys, let's blame the evil Slytherin! That's just rich, Potter," Draco raged. "Well, there's nothing you can do to me. I haven't done anything wrong. You can't forbid me to fantasize. I don't need the stupid Charms. I can do it myself, thank you very much. Look!" Draco closed his eyes and sneered. "See, I'm doing it right now. I'm picturing you naked." Draco gasped. "Oh my, your prick is so small. And oh, now you're wearing a pink skirt! And, and look, you've just bent over and spread your ..." Draco's eyes flew open when he realized that Potter was laughing himself silly.

Tears of mirth ran down Potter's cheeks as he clutched his sides. "You're ... very entertaining," Potter breathed, trying to calm himself unsuccessfully.

"Glad to be of service." Draco sulked, lowering his wand.

Potter tilted his head, sobering up and then moving closer to Draco.

"Stay where you are!" Draco raised his wand again, gripping it tighter, but Potter completely ignored Draco's threat.

"There's something you should know," Potter said seriously. "You didn't buy the Special One Hundred Fantasies Set, starring me."

Draco frowned, taken aback once again. Potter's oddness had no limits. But well, if Potter wanted to believe that, who was Draco to defy him? "Of course I didn't," Draco agreed promptly. "I was only joking. Why would I buy such a thing?"

Unperturbed, Potter came even closer, making Draco's wand-arm shake. But he just couldn't bring himself to hex the smug bastard.

"You really didn't," Potter continued. "You bought the Special Fantasies Set: If you have your own scheme, add a bit of reality to your dream." Potter grinned. "Small print: The title and image above will display the person you —" Potter's cheeks coloured and he cleared his throat. "The person you want the most," Potter said quietly, as something horrible twisted Draco's insides. He didn't even dared to think about the certain word that rhymed with above. Potter's voice was much too low for normal conversation when he added, "Even finer print ..." He looked at the package in his hand, reading out loud. "This set will merely liven up your pre-existing fantasies; it will not create them. The makers aren’t responsible for your lack of imagination. The number and quality of the Daydreams reflect your mind; therefore if you're an uninspired prude, we offer no refund. The upper limit of the number of Daydreams is one-hundred. The lower limit is one. The low number of Daydreams has no bearing on the price."

Draco shook his head in denial, horrified beyond belief. "No," he croaked. This wasn't true. It couldn't have been true. Because if it was then this would mean Draco didn't just randomly stumbled upon a Harry Potter fantasies set. It would mean that Pansy was right, and Draco was in love with Potter. Without knowing it! But Pansy was never right and if she was the world would end choking itself on the absurdity. But the world hadn't ended so clearly Potter was making this whole thing up.

"You're lying," Draco said decidedly.

"No, I'm really not. I just bought a set today myself." Potter waved the package around.

"Then the Weasleys are lying. Maybe you did buy this incomplete set, but I bought the real thing. They've tricked you." Draco nodded. "How awful of them. You should go and hex them. Go. I'll cover for you."

Potter shook his head. "They were very upset when we've confronted them. They were appalled that we thought they would do this to me. They've even agreed to take a truth potion. Besides, it makes sense, don't you think?"

"How could this make sense? I'm not ... I don't want you, Potter!" Draco wished Potter would stop shaking; it was making him feel dizzy. Or Draco was dizzy and shaking himself. It hardly mattered, though, because the more Draco thought about it the more it seemed like the world would end after all.

"Apparently I have one-hundred arguments that say you're wrong." Potter was standing entirely too close and had cruelly breathed in all the air around them, leaving Draco to gasp and choke to death.

Draco shook his head, unable to speak. And to think that just a little while ago he had thought that the events in the Great Hall were the most humiliating thing that could have happened to him. But there was Potter now, grinning smugly and maliciously, pleased that he had discovered — or rather invented — Draco's most carefully hidden secret. Draco had always claimed that Potter was a cruel, cruel bastard; it shouldn't have been so disappointing to learn that he had been right all this time.

"I don't even like you," Draco said petulantly. "You've been deceived."

"That's what Ron said —"

"Well, it's the-wrong-people-are-right kind of day."

"— when he saw this." Potter indicated the package in his hand, and then smiled fondly. "And then he fainted."

"No wonder, if it features his sister. Urgh!" Draco covered his eyes with his left hand. "I don’t want to see it either."

"I think you do," Potter said quietly, showing the package into Draco's right hand, nearly dislodging Draco's wand.

Against his better judgment, Draco peeked through his fingers and then, gasping, grabbed the package with both of his hands, not even noticing that his wand had fell onto the floor. His own face sneered and winked at him from the cover, the caption below it proclaiming: Special One Hundred Fantasies Set: Fact or a guise, Draco Malfoy sure seems mean, but we guarantee a lovely surprise, after you spread his thighs, and place yourself in between!

"You pervert!" Draco cried, spluttering, but Potter merely laughed again. "I should have known!" Draco continued his rant. "You are the one that's crushing on me! That's why you were following me around, isn't it? To enable your dirty fantasies. I bet you bought this before I did!"

Potter shook his head, and denied the accusation laughingly. "No, I really bought it today. Believe me, it was quite a shock, but not as much of a shock as it should have been." Potter's voice sounded husky again, and that more than anything gave Draco's brain a kick start. He had said the words, but he hadn't really registered their meaning — Potter was crushing on him. Potter was fantasising about him.

Potter was holding his hand.

Draco frowned, not knowing why Potter had grabbed his left hand, and he definitely had no idea why he had let Potter hold his hand.

"I was following you because I thought you were up to something devious." Potter's lips twitched as he trailed his fingertips over Draco's wrist, slowly moving them downwards, and pushing Draco's sleeve out of the way. "In a roundabout way I was right," Potter murmured. The sensitive skin of Draco's forearm was tingling, and Draco forgot about everything, only able to concentrate on the wonderful feeling that Potter's fingers were spreading. Then Potter breathed in sharply and asked, "What's this?"

Draco's eyelashes fluttered and he took a moment to come to his senses, and then he looked down at the small white scar that marred his skin.

"Um. I had an accident. With a peacock. Long story. Never mind."

Potter flashed him a bright smile that lit up the room more brilliantly than the flickering candles.

"It's a long, but a very sad story, you know," Draco claimed, a bit put out. "Now get back to what you were doing." Realizing what he had said, and remembering that just a second ago he had been annoyed with Potter, Draco cleared his throat. "I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"I'm planning to kiss you actually," Potter said promptly, his gaze flickering towards Draco's lips. Draco licked his dry lips nervously, convinced that he ought to think negatively of Potter's plan, but he just couldn't remember of any reason against it. It sounded like a fabulous plan to Draco.

Potter yanked Draco's arm, pulling him stumbling forward, the awkwardness of the moment forcing Draco to remember that this situation had been very awkward mere moments ago. Potter was under the impression that Draco fancied him and that simply wasn't true. Well, that wasn't true if Potter didn't fancy him back. If he did, then maybe it was true. Draco still clutched the Daydream Charm package in his hand — supposedly a written proof that Potter had a crush on him, but what if the Charms were lying?

"We shouldn't just believe these Charms," Draco whispered because he couldn't make his voice be louder. Potter's face was distractingly close to his; so close, their noses were touching.

"I agree," Potter whispered back conspiratorially, as though they were trying to be quiet so the Charms wouldn't hear them. And then his breath hitched a little, and he moved even closer, touching his lips to Draco's. The warm, soft pressure made Draco feel terrified because he realized that somehow he had forgotten how to kiss! Should he move his lips, his tongue, his head, his hands? Should he breathe? All this sounded very complicated.

But then Potter tilted his head, the tip of his tongue brushing over Draco's bottom lip, and Draco stopped worrying. It was much more important to pull Potter's tongue into his mouth, and pull Potter's body even closer, though that last bit proved to be impossible. Draco had wrapped his arms around Potter's waist and tried to pull him in, but Potter was too close already; his chest was pressed snugly against Draco's, and if Draco wanted him closer he would have to tuck Potter into his pants, which admittedly, didn't sound like a bad idea even if it was a complicated one.

Potter pulled his head back a little, his hands tangled into Draco's hair, clearly determined to turn Draco into Potter's blond, messy-haired twin.

"I believe this," Potter breathed, but Draco had no idea what he was talking about. He had agreed, however, with a long reflective and intelligent sentence that came out sounding like a loud humming sound, because Draco's mouth was unwilling to pause the Potter-kissing for something as trivial as conversation. Though maybe Potter was the one humming contentedly deep in his throat, or maybe Draco's ears were buzzing; it was difficult to concentrate on anything while Potter's tongue diligently explored Draco's mouth.

"Lower," Potter panted hotly between kisses.

Draco spent long, busy minutes puzzling over that one, but it was of no use. Potter's ramblings just weren't as important as the little twists of Potter's tongue that had a magical ability to curl Draco's toes. Besides, kissing Potter was of utmost importance. After all, as previously established, Potter had captured all the air in the room, but now he was ever so kindly sharing and it would be imprudent not to accept this kindness as the lifesaver it was.

"Hands," Potter instructed, grabbing Draco's hair tighter and forcibly tilting his head so he could melt Draco's insides with a scorching kiss. And that was fine; he didn't really need those insides, Draco thought fuzzily.

It was only after Potter had ceased his assault and Draco was happily nibbling on Potter's lips that Draco had a sudden epiphany and he broke Potter's ingenious secret code, realizing that lower hands meant Draco should lower his hands. So he did just that, squeezing Potter's behind through his cloak and trousers and pants. That was too many layers of clothing, but it still felt nice.

Potter definitely agreed with that assessment because he growled and pushed Draco with his body, walking him backwards, intent on running him over. Draco would have fell and let himself be trampled on, but his arse hit the edge of a random desk. Or perhaps the desk wasn't as random since it seemed much too high for a regular desk; it was probably Snape's desk and that was very amusing, but at the same time very wrong.

There was no time to worry about that because Potter shoved his leg between Draco's thighs and Draco was gripped with a sudden, immature urge to claim that Potter was now in for a lovely surprise, but Draco ended up the one gasping for air. Potter placed his leg perfectly and then moved it just so, prompting Draco to close his eyes to stop himself from crying out. The loud sound escaping past his lips, made him conclude that he should have closed his mouth instead.

But it was a good thing that he hadn't closed his mouth because the pale skin of Potter's neck was exposed and right there, near Draco's lips. Draco barely managed to press his lips to the Potter-flavoured, soft skin and inhale the scent of Potter's shampoo, when his hair was grabbed and his head was pulled back. And then Potter was kissing Draco's neck and that was wonderful, but slightly vexing because this neck-kissing business was Draco's idea and Potter had viciously stolen it.

But Potter seemed displeased about something too; his hands seized the collar of Draco's shirt, pulling on it sharply.

"It's stuck," Potter whined, panting hotly against Draco's ear. Draco thought he ought to explain Potter about buttons, but it seemed much more important to clutch Potter's arse and help him move his leg in that perfect way that made Draco feel dizzy. Though dizziness was becoming a problem and Draco was starting to lose his bearings as Potter declared war on his shirt. It was fortunate that Potter was the chosen hero because he had successfully defeated his nemesis by popping out two top buttons, and then he celebrated his victory by biting down on Draco's collarbone. Draco commemorated the occasion with a moan.

Potter continued to bite his neck and then peppered tiny kisses over the stinging skin in apology, as though he couldn't quite decide whether he wanted to be rough or really, really gentle. It was impossible for Draco to determine which treatment he preferred, though he figured he shouldn't allow Potter to mark his neck with love bites. He threw his head back, baring his throat, which was in odds with his no-love-bites desires, but it hardly mattered when the desk beneath Draco seemed to have disappeared and Draco was floating, suspended in midair, feeling nothing but Potter's ever-moving leg.

As his orgasm rushed forward, Draco remembered that this was the point where he usually woke up. This was how his dreams always ended. So it was very important not to come, and Draco tried to tell Potter to stop moving, but instead, he just screamed as pleasure shot through his body.

He slowly came down from where he had been flying; the desk appeared beneath him again, digging uncomfortably into his behind. He opened his eyes, feeling wet stickiness spreading inside his pants, but his discomfort was forgotten when he realized that Potter was still here, panting and kissing and straddling Draco's thigh, his cock hard and hot even through their clothing.

"This is real," Draco breathed, unbelievably happy all of a sudden.

Potter said something incoherent, pressing a sloppy wet kiss to Draco's chin.

"I need ..." Potter managed, but couldn’t finish his thought. But Draco was now lucid enough to figure out what Potter needed. The angle under which Potter was rubbing his crotch against Draco's leg wasn't as fortunate as Draco's had been, and Draco thought he should stand up or something. Or he could do something else. Something more interesting.

"I've hit you," Draco recalled.

"Mmm. Awful," Potter agreed, punishing Draco with a heated kiss. Which was a silly move on Potter's part and, in the long run, could only serve as further encouragement for Draco.

"I should ..." Draco gasped when his mouth was freed. "Kiss and make it better?"

He wasn't sure why he was offering such a thing, but it seemed fair to reward Potter since Potter was kind enough to be real.

For a second it seemed like Potter hadn’t heard him, but then he stopped his movements abruptly and stepped back, staring at Draco with wide eyes, his mouth opened in a way that would be comical if it hadn't been endearing.

"Oh." Potter blinked, and than smiled that ridiculously brilliant smile that made Draco happy he had suggested this. "Okay." Potter unzipped his trousers in a second, but his brain had failed him then, and he didn't seem to know how to get his cock out of his boxers.

"Here," Draco soothed, grabbing Potter's hips and spinning him around so Potter was the one pressed against the desk. Shaking for some irrational reason, Draco knelt on the floor, slowly pulling Potter's trousers and boxers down to his thighs.

He gulped when Potter's cock was revealed, thick and hard, and not as long as in Draco's fantasies, but perfect nonetheless. Draco touched it tentatively, just brushed against it lightly with his fingertips, but Potter still reacted, breathing in sharply.

"'s warm," Draco murmured, closing his hand around it, not really sure why he had said that. He meant to say it was nice, but that sounded silly.

"'s nice," Potter gasped and Draco was very pleased that they understood one another. Potter squirmed restlessly and Draco realized that he had been staring and not kissing as promised. With a grin, Draco cocked his head and moved it closer to Potter's body, pressing a gentle kiss to the place he had hit recently.

"Better?" he asked cheekily, looking up at Potter through his lashes.

"Yeah," Potter breathed reverently, as though Draco had done something spectacular. Apparently, the concept of teasing was completely lost on Potter. Amused, Draco decided that Potter needed a more direct approach, so he stuck out his tongue, licking the thick vein on the underside of Potter's cock, ending the long lick on the tip where he delicately tasted the glistening pre-come with a swirl of his tongue.

Potter made a series of garbled sounds, but when Draco closed his mouth around the head of his cock, Potter was quite clearly chanting, "Fuckfuckfuck." And that was what spurred Draco on in spite of the bitter, salty taste that filled his mouth. He had never heard Potter say fuck before. Well maybe he did, but he had certainly never heard him say it like that. Potter sounded like he was losing control and was about to break.

Fascinated by the sounds and occasional curses that spilled out of Potter's mouth, Draco tried to do something more, so he swirled his tongue and then he tried to suck, though he wished he hadn’t because he ended up slurping loudly. He was probably doing this whole thing wrong, but Potter didn't seem to mind. Draco didn't mind either; the warm weight felt wonderful on his tongue and the taste, which wasn't wonderful at all, made Draco want more against his own better judgment.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ... Malfoy."

Draco should have known what that meant, he should have, but he was much more concerned about what he should do with his teeth. He knew what he shouldn't do, but he didn’t know how to stop them from scraping the sensitive skin in his mouth. Soon it didn't matter though, because Draco's mouth were filled with salty stickiness. Surprised, Draco's first instinct was to spit it out, but that seemed terribly rude so he tired to swallow it and spit it out at the same time. Of course, that couldn't have worked, so Draco ended up choking and spluttering, the come coating his cheeks and chin.

"Oh. Fuck," Potter declared, his body shivering and his hands tangled in Draco's hair again, caressing frantically. "Oh!" Potter gasped again, his speech clearly reduced to single syllables. Draco looked up to see Potter staring, amazed, at his own spunk that was splattered over Draco's face.

Blushing, Draco quickly tried to wipe it off with his hands and Potter helpfully brushed some of it with his fingers.

"Sorry." Potter smiled sheepishly, obviously not sorry. "That was ... Oh God!" Potter cried out and it took Draco a second to work out that Potter wasn't praising Draco's amazing blowjob skills. Instead, he was staring at the door that had produced a loud bang before they flew open.

Horrified, Draco sprang up, wiping his face and trying to straighten his ruined shirt as Potter pulled his trousers up, both of them blushing furiously.

It's just Pansy! It's just Pansy! Draco chanted in his mind, hoping that if he thought that enough times, it would become true. Turning around, Draco saw two pairs of feet near the door. One pair definitely belonged to Pansy and the other to whomever Pansy had brought with her, and Draco could have easily concluded who that was so there was no need to look up.

"Miss Parkinson, you told me Draco was in mortal danger," Professor Snape said quietly, sounding very odd. "However unfortunate his position was, I'm afraid it won't kill him. I wish I could say the same for myself."

Draco dared to look up at Professor's pale face, distorted with obvious aversion, just as Potter said, "Um. Professor, we were just ..."

"Spare me, Potter!" Snape held up his hand. "This is another detention you've earned yourself today. For being out of bed past curfew. Points will be taken from your House when I determine the extent of my trauma."

Potter sulked and Draco was suddenly upset after seeing Potter's bottom lip stuck out like that.

"But, Professor —" he tried to argue on Potter's behalf, but Snape cut him off.

"Detention for you as well, Draco," Snape said cruelly.

"For what?" Draco spluttered. He had been outside his Common Room after curfew before, and Snape had never given him detention.

"For abysmal lack of taste," Snape said, actually shuddering a little.

Draco would have liked to argue that Potter tasted very well, thank you, but he managed to keep silent on that matter. Instead, he tried to appease Snape before he did the unimaginable and took points from the Slytherin House. "We'll go to bed now, sir. I promise," he said demurely.

Snape paled, making Draco wish the ground would open and swallow him. "Thank you for that vital piece of information, Draco." Snape looked at Pansy's head as though regretting the fact that she wasn't wearing a hat. "Potter, you may start scrubbing this classroom now," Snape declared, before sweeping out of the room, his face turning increasingly greener.

"I can't believe he just left us here," Potter said in wonder after a few moments.

Draco nodded in agreement as Pansy grinned. "He has a date with a bucket, I think," she said happily, her gaze dancing between Potter and Draco. She seemed very pleased with herself.

Draco narrowed his eyes, glaring at her.

"Oh don't mind me," Pansy said quickly, but as Draco continued to glare, she relented. "Fine, I'll leave. But I was rescuing you, you ungrateful prat." She stepped out of the classroom, throwing a final I-was-right sort of look in Draco's direction and saying, "I’ll be a good girl and go and find some dolls to play with."

Draco closed his eyes, mortified, as Potter commented, "Weird, that one."

"Don’t know what she's on about," Draco agreed.

"Here," Potter whispered, suddenly standing next Draco. He brushed his thumb against Draco's cheek, making him realize that he probably had some spunk there.

"Some days I just shouldn't get out of bed," Draco said sadly.

"It's not all bad, is it?" Potter murmured. Draco opened his eyes to see Potter smiling his crazily infectious smile.

"I suppose," Draco conceded, smiling and pulling Potter closer so he could kiss him.

The kiss was slow, messy and perfect and Draco forgot all about Snape and Pansy.

They've separated after several blissful moments, staring at each other in wonder.

"Now what?" Draco asked, whishing he hadn't. This was a simple question with a very complicated answer. There were just too many problems to deal with if Potter and he decided to be ... well, together. And Draco thought they had decided that. He hoped they had. But then, there were things to consider. About their friends and Draco's family. About Draco's intended career as a Death Eater. About Potter's intended career as a Saviour. About flower arrangements for Weasley's funeral. And a part of him wanted to discuss this and know the answers now, but another part of him wanted to ignore these issues for ever and ever.

However, Potter didn't seem worried, he just shrugged, grinning. "Well for starters," he said. "I have one-hundred ideas about what we could do. That should keep us occupied for a while."

Draco smiled back, pleased that the discussion of serious issues was pushed far into the future. Until then, they might figure something out. In fact, Draco was sure that they would. But for now ...

"Funny you should say that, Potter," Draco commented smugly, pressing his body closer to Potter's. "So do I."

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Fin

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