"This is your fault," Draco spat. He sat against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"How do you reckon that?" Harry snorted, shifting in his ragged chair.

"It's always your fault," Draco muttered. His words had little bite after twelve hours, though.

"So it is," Harry replied with a sigh. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No?"

"Tired?"

"Bugger off, wiil you?"

Harry grinned. "Just trying to help."

Draco swore, then looked up. "You forgot horny."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"

Draco shook his head in mock exasperation.

Harry stood and crossed the short distance betwen them, straddling Draco's outstretched legs. "Are you, then?"

"Is that all you ever think about?" Draco asked, but he was smiling now. He couldn't help it, Harry knew.

"Death and sex," Harry said with a shrug. "What else is there?"

Draco reached up to unfasten the fly of Harry's trousers. Harry's cock sprang free, and Draco grinned. "Ask me later. I'm a bit busy at the moment."