“Harry, I can’t believe you just did that!” Hermione shrieked. Ron just shook his head and slumped back down in his seat as eyes turned toward them, alerted by Hermione’s exclamation.
“’Atta boy, Harry!” Fred crowed.
“Who’s it going to be, I wonder?” George spoke loudly, drawing even more attention as he and his twin clapped Harry on the back.
Harry rolled his eyes, looking around at his impromptu audience.
“Did he eat one?”
“I wonder who it will be.”
“Oh, I bet it’s that Ravenclaw, Chang.”
Murmurs traveled the Great Hall, alerting everyone to the fact that Harry Potter’s True Desire was about to be revealed.
“Thanks a lot, Hermione,” he muttered, still sucking on the pink candy.
His friend flushed. “Spit it out!” she hissed, looking at the sea of faces turned their way. “It might not be too late.”
Harry crunched down on the sweet recklessly when he saw Cho’s pretty face turned towards him. “Nah,” he replied. “What’s the harm…”
Not her.
A feeling of discontent overwhelmed Harry, making him flinch. He was staring at Cho, but suddenly was sure that was all wrong. He shuddered as his mind seemed to clear, a face swimming to the forefront. No. No bloody way.
“I’m betting it’s that oaf of a Gamekeeper he wants.”
The words cut through all other sound, pinning Harry where he sat trembling. Oh fuck. No. He struggled against the compulsion to turn and look, but this wasn’t like fighting Imperius. It wasn’t something outside compelling Harry; it was his own desire.
No. Nononononono.
He slammed his eyes shut and covered them with a shaking hand.
“Get me out of here,” he begged Hermione, sitting beside him, through gritted teeth. The Hall was filled with speculation and laughter, but all he could hear was a single voice. He felt a soft hand take his arm and start to lead him away.
“This way,” Hermione whispered.
Look at him.
“Oi, don’t let him leave!”
“Woah, is he after Granger, too?”
“Potty and the Mudblood.”
Harry froze, the need to turn toward that taunting voice pinning him. In his head he saw a mocking sneer, silver eyes, a challenge.
“It’s a mistake,” he groaned, hand lowering of its own accord.
“No, Harry, don’t look!” Hermione yanked him toward the doors, beckoning frantically for Ron to help.
The redhead was gazing forlornly at Hermione’s hand on Harry’s arm, though. When she saw his expression she gave an impatient huff.
“Ron!”
“Hermione. You and – and – ”
Harry’s eyes opened, but his friends were too busy with their own drama to notice.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione scoffed.
Ron’s expression hardened. “Sure looks that way to me.”
Some attention had swayed to Ron and Hermione’s fight, but there was only one gaze that pulled Harry, and he could feel it still firmly focused on him.
Hermione stomped a foot. “Ronald Weasley!”
“You should have just told me last night.”
Harry was turning.
“There is nothing to tell! Not all of us need ridiculous candies to know what we want!”
Ron gaped. “Well, what do you want, then?”
Despite the commotion, Harry vaguely noticed that plenty of people were still avidly watching him.
Hermione was flushed and obviously panicked. She stepped towards Ron, lowering her voice. “Ron, we’ll talk later.”
Ron shook his head stubbornly. “Just tell me.” Hurt rang in his voice.
Harry wanted to look, just as he’d wanted to know. Knowing was so much better.
“It’s you, alright! It’s always been you!” A chorus of “awww”s met Hermione’s statement. She spun back and grabbed Harry’s arm, dragging him out of the room.
Not before his gaze met that of Draco Malfoy, though.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
Harry ignored Hermione’s tearful ranting as she pulled him along. His whole body was tingling. He knew what he wanted, and now he wanted it.
“Going back,” he said firmly, trying to get away from his friend.
“Harry, no!” She gripped tighter. “It wasn’t Cho.” She wasn’t asking.
“No.”
They had stopped in the corridor, Hermione peering at him knowingly.
“Was it Malfoy?”
Even in his hyper-focused daze he was surprised by that. Hermione laughed softly, wiping her cheeks.
“I’ve wondered for awhile, you know. You certainly spend more time watching him than anyone else.”
He just shook his head and pulled away. “Gotta go back.”
“Do you really want everybody to know, Harry? He’s not exactly the nicest person. What if he laughs at you in front of the whole school?”
Harry stared at her muzzily. “Why should that matter?”
She opened her mouth worriedly, but he cut her off before she could speak.
“I’m not hiding,” he said decisively. He strode back the way they’d come, missing her sudden look of guilt.
Harry knew she was following him, but all he was concerned with was getting to Malfoy. He flung the doors open as he marched into the Great Hall. All eyes were instantly on him.
“Apparently Golden Boy didn’t get enough attention before,” Malfoy scoffed to his tablemates. The boy’s voice was low and irritated, but to Harry it was like a caress.
Blood sang in Harry’s veins as he stalked toward the Slytherin table.
Malfoy’s glares and insults, his tormenting and mockery: somewhere along the line Harry had become addicted to the other boy’s obsession. If Malfoy was so frustratingly interesting when they were enemies, how much more so would he be if they were – something else.
For a moment, Harry almost paused. What else were they? Or could they be? He knew he couldn’t imagine life without the snarky little git in it, but did that really mean what he was making it out to mean?
Yes.
Fuck it. It was too late for thinking, now. Harry had never been particularly interested in pondering his feelings, before. He’d be damned if he was going to start now.
By the time Harry reached the Slytherin table, most of the students were on their feet. Snape was on the edge of his seat, probably poised to deduct a million points from Gryffindor for daring to venture into enemy territory. Judging by the muttering, the general consensus seemed to be that Harry was going to attack Malfoy. Harry smiled darkly to himself.
“What’s the matter, Potty, lose your Mudblood?”
Angry sounds came from the watching crowd and Professor McGonagall rose in a fury. “Mr. Malfoy!” She gasped.
Malfoy leaned back and smirked. “Maybe you should check the kitchens. That’s where her kind belong.”
Harry came to a stop before the other boy, looking down with a secretive grin.
“Actually, I was looking for an inbred pretty-boy. Guess I found one.” Harry winked lazily, one hand in his pocket, the other casually twirling his wand.
Snape and Malfoy jumped to their feet at the same time, Snape snarling about points. McGonagall rounded on him angrily. Since Malfoy stood directly in front of him, close enough that Harry could feel the heat coming off his body, Harry had no difficulty ignoring the hubbub between the teachers. His stomach fluttered, temples pounded, adrenaline raced. In short, he felt alive.
“Don’t you dare – ”
“Insult your family. Yeah yeah, heard it before.”
Malfoy spluttered. Harry grinned and closed the infinitesimal distance between them, placing his mouth right by the other boy’s ear.
“Want to fight about it? Thirty minutes from now, behind Greenhouse Three. Come alone, unless you’re scared. Just you and me.” Harry let his lips brush the boy’s earlobe and had to restrain himself from pouncing when he saw goosebumps lift on Malfoy’s neck.
“What are you playing at, Potter?” Malfoy growled. “How do I know you aren’t setting me up?”
Harry patted Malfoy’s cheek, admiring the smooth texture. “Because you know me,” he replied, smirking.
Rage at Harry’s temerity battled with confusion over his words. “Fine,” Malfoy snapped at last.
Harry gave his cheek one last pat – caress? – and turned to leave, surging with exhilaration. A hand clamped around his wrist, drawing him to a halt. He looked back.
“Just be sure you keep to your side of the bargain, Potter.”
Harry nodded in amusement, something that seemed to leave Malfoy even more suspicious. Malfoy dropped his wrist with a muttered oath, leaving Harry to exit again.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
Harry was glad when Ron cornered Hermione, as it meant he was able to sneak away without dealing with what promised to be awkward questions. He raced up to the dorms and grabbed his Cloak and Map, taking a quick look in the mirror. His hair was hopeless, he knew, as were the glasses. Since it was a Saturday, he was dressed in casual Muggle clothes, not Dudley cast-offs, but some good jeans and a black sweater he’d bought himself. Although he wasn’t overly concerned with fashion, it was nice to at least have clothes that fit. Brushing a piece of lint off his shoulder, Harry turned sideways, peering at his reflection.
Hermione had told him once that he was good-looking, and he knew he wasn’t hideous, but a spike of despair stabbed through him as he took in his skinny body and otherwise haphazard appearance.
Malfoy always looked so bloody elegant, he mused mournfully. Why would someone like that be interested in the rather questionable charms Harry possessed? He peered closer into the glass. His chin was weird, he realized, and his nose was really too pointy. If he took his glasses off, his green eyes were kind of alright, but you hardly noticed them behind his usual thick lenses.
Sighing, Harry shoved his glasses back on and forced himself out of his self-conscious funk. As much as it scared him, he had meant what he’d said to Hermione: whether or not Malfoy returned his interest was less important at the moment than making sure the boy knew how Harry felt. After all, Harry hardly expected Malfoy to fall swooning at his feet. He did expect taunts, sneers, and maybe a hex or two. But that was, after all, part of what attracted Harry to him. That stubborn refusal to give an inch where Harry was concerned was intriguing, never failing to bring Harry’s competitive nature to the fore.
With a final brush at his clothes, Harry swept the Cloak around him and began the trek to the greenhouses.
Struggling to keep his nerves down, Harry concentrated on avoiding potential obstacles on his way to the rendezvous. It seemed that every shadowed corner was inhabited with lovey-dovey couples. He found it quite interesting to see some of the pairings taking place. Even though most of the students were making their ways down to Hogsmeade and the more commercialized romance of Madame Puddifoot’s, obviously some were content with the decidedly less pink atmosphere of the hallways outside the Charms classroom.
Harry rushed past each of these moaning testaments to the day, wishing he could close his ears to the passionate sounds. They just made him more nervous.
When he finally made his way out to the greenhouses, he stopped and scanned the Marauder’s Map to see if Malfoy was even there and if he’d brought backup, if he was. He felt a shiver in his very core when he established that the dot on the Map that represented Malfoy was, indeed, alone. With further perusal, Harry discovered that Crabbe and Goyle were in the Slytherin common room with a few others.
Harry took a deep breath, tucked the Map away, and removed the Invisibility Cloak. He took a moment to steel himself for the coming encounter. The desperation of earlier, brought about by the Twins’ candy, had worn off; he was now running solely on his own impulses.
Draco.
Alright, mostly.
Quietly, wand at the ready, Harry slipped around Greenhouse Three, grinning like a crazy man when he saw Malfoy, breath misting in the cool air, impatiently tapping his wand into his hand.
“Potter,” the boy snapped when Harry came into view. “What are you smiling about? You’re late.”
Harry glanced at his watch. “By two minutes. And I’m smiling because I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show up.”
Pink suffused Malfoy’s pale cheeks. “I’m not a coward.”
“No,” Harry agreed. “You’re not.” He stepped closer, chuckling when Malfoy backed away.
“Are we going to duel or what?” the blond asked edgily.
“That’s not why I’m here,” Harry admitted, his glib tone bringing the other boy up short.
“What do you mean, that’s not why you’re here? That’s what you said!” There was panic in Malfoy’s silver eyes as Harry began stalking towards him again.
“Had to say something to get you alone.”
Malfoy blinked twice, mouth working silently. “What?”
Harry backed him towards a tree, ignoring the wand that rose to point at his head. Malfoy seemed to be trying to sink into the trunk he pressed himself against.
“What are you doing? I’ll call Crabbe and Goyle!”
Harry smirked. “They’re not here, though. They’re in your common room with Nott and Parkinson.”
Although it was clear that Malfoy wanted to push Harry away, his raised hands stilled at that statement.
“How the fuck do you know that?” Gleaming, furious eyes narrowed to slits.
If Harry had been anyone else, he would have moved away. Instead, he leaned closer. “I’ll tell you, on one condition.”
“You’ll – what is wrong with you, Potter?”
“The condition is that you let me kiss you.”
Once again Harry saw his nemesis at a total lack for words. Malfoy blanched when Harry offered his deal, but red quickly started creeping up his neck. Harry watched his reaction with great satisfaction.
“You’ve got to be out of your bloody mind,” Malfoy stated flatly, “if you think I’m going to let you lay a finger on – ”
Harry’s was as fast off the Quidditch Pitch as on, as he proved by swiftly wrapping his left hand around the back of Malfoy’s head, burying his fingers in silky heat. He pinned Malfoy’s wand hand with the other and moved in for the kill.
“Maybe I am,” he grinned, eyes dropping to pink lips. “Obviously I am,” he corrected before pressing his mouth hard against Malfoy’s.
Although the blond was taller by a good three inches, the boys’ strengths were evenly matched. Malfoy struggled against Harry’s grip, against the kiss, but didn’t get away until Harry let him.
Face tingling and body burning, Harry moved back quickly, avoiding the kick that was aimed at one of his more sensitive areas. He had snatched Malfoy’s wand while the boy was distracted, just to make sure he wasn’t Crucioed.
“You fucking bastard!” Malfoy growled. The normal coolness of the Slytherin was beyond ruffled; it was stripped away, leaving a mussed and seething teenage boy.
Harry tipped his head to the side. “I’ve got a question for you, Malfoy.” He ducked under the fist that swung for his nose. “Would you calm down already?”
A wordless shout of rage came from the angry boy as he barreled at Harry. Rolling his eyes, Harry stepped to the side and stuck his foot out. When Malfoy tumbled to the ground, Harry knelt beside him, although not too close.
“Nothing personal, Malfoy, but I’ve had a guy at least five times your size try to pound the shit out of me. I’m not quite as easy to beat as I used to be.”
Malfoy just lay on his stomach in the dirt, breathing hard. Harry patted him on the back. “So, will you just let me ask you one question? If you do, I promise I’ll give you your wand back and we can duel if you want.”
He smiled brightly when he caught a muffled “fuck you.”
“I’m gonna leave that one alone for now,” he laughed. “What I wanted to know was… Well, First Year you offered me your hand. Was that because you actually wanted to be friends, or was it something else?”
Malfoy pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at Harry incredulously. “Why in Salazar’s name do you care?”
Harry shrugged. “I just wondered if, you know, you might want to give being friends a try now.”
“Let me get this straight,” Malfoy said, waving his arms around. “You insult my family, challenge me to a duel, kiss me, take my wand, knock me down, and ask to be friends? Is that what’s happened or did I hit my head on some stairs and fall into some fucked up dream?”
“Er, no. That’s what happened.”
“You have got to be the strangest person I’ve ever known, Potter.” Malfoy stood confidently, twisting a bit to coax a pop from his neck.
“Alright,” he said. “You got your question. Give me my wand.”
Harry, who had risen when the other boy did, glanced down at the slender implement he held. “Don’t you want to know how I knew where Crabbe and Goyle were?”
“Are you going to tell me?” Malfoy drawled sarcastically, still holding his hand out.
Harry’s lips twitched. “I told you I would.”
Malfoy’s foot began to tap with annoyance. “Then tell me, but give me back my wand, first!”
“If you let me kiss you, I said.”
“You already fucking did!” Malfoy protested.
“But you didn’t let me. You kept wriggling around, trying to kick me.” Harry almost laughed out loud at the expression of bewilderment on the other boy’s face.
“You’re kidding me, right? Having me on? Taking the mickey?”
Harry moved closer, stuck both wands in his back pocket, and shook his head. Greedily, he took in the way Malfoy’s throat worked when he swallowed.
“So what, you want to redeem me or something? Save me from my wicked ways?”
“Maybe eventually,” Harry said seriously. “Right now, though, I just want you.”
Something flashed in the quicksilver of Malfoy’s eyes, something that drew Harry even closer, almost snapping the control he’d imposed on himself.
“Malfoy,” he murmured, reaching a hand towards the unnaturally still boy. Tension sang in every aspect of Malfoy’s stance when Harry brushed the back the back of his knuckles down one smooth cheek. When no screaming, punching, or spontaneous hexes seemed forthcoming, he let himself trail a finger over the very corner of the usually sneering mouth, marveling at the almost-tremble in the full lips.
“You know, I wonder what would have happened if nobody had told me that Slytherins were rotters before the first Sorting.” Harry spoke softly, ever so slowly closing the distance between them. “The Hat wanted to put me in there.”
Malfoy started at that. “What?” he gasped.
“Oh yeah,” Harry lifted his other hand until he was gently cradling Malfoy’s face. “Imagine the way things could have been if you and I back then had been just – just you and me. Not kids who’d been told who and what we were supposed to like, kids who were tossed in the middle of some huge fucking battle. Just kids.”
“Potter – ” The word sounded like a warning.
“Whatever, Malfoy, you know it’s true. For both of us.” He didn’t know what he was saying. Or rather, he did, but he didn’t care, anymore. He didn’t want to talk, anymore.
Slowly, giving the other boy ample time to pull away, Harry let his lips brush skin. Chin, cheek, throat. Malfoy let him. In fact, he responded, moving closer. Their bodies met in a hot line.
“You don’t mean it,” Draco whispered fearfully.
Part of Harry wanted to counter the way he always did with Draco: act first, talk – well, usually never, but in this case it would be later. However, they weren’t the same, this was a situation unlike any they’d ever known, and Harry needed to prove to the other boy that things could be different.
“Do you want me to announce it in the Great Hall? Follow you around like your own sad-eyed puppy? Beg acceptance from Snape?”
“You wouldn’t.” Draco’s eyes were wild, his fingers dug into Harry’s hips painfully.
“I would if you wanted it,” Harry promised.
“You’re all talk, Potter,” Draco murmured.
Harry heard the challenge and pounced. A groan escaped from Draco’s throat as Harry wrapped his fingers in that silken hair and tugged, sealing Draco’s lips with his own. They melted together, melded, fused, and Harry never wanted to move again. Then he felt Draco’s mouth open to him and they were thrusting, tongues mimicking bodies mimicking tongues. Harry had never been so hard before and knew it was because he’d never had Draco Malfoy in his arms.
The stray thought passed through his mind that nothing would ever be the same again, but then Draco threw his head back in a gasping moan and all higher mental functioning ceased. He plunged a hand into Draco’s pants, squeezing and stroking the other boy’s erection while sucking on his collarbone. Slim hips bucked. When Draco whimpered, Harry was undone, spilling into his pants even as his lover came to a shuddering climax in his hand.
Silence fell, panting breaths filling the air. The boys leaned together, sated and scared.
“You can still leave,” Draco mumbled, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.
“I don’t want to,” Harry said softly, nuzzling at Draco’s throat. “Please…” he started, then paused, not sure.
“You really mean it?” There was shocked wonder in Draco’s voice.
Harry pressed his forehead to Draco’s, hands holding the other boy’s face. “I promise.”
After a moment that left Harry’s heart in his feet, Draco laughed unsteadily.
“Daft Gryffindor,” he said.
Harry grinned. “Stubborn Slytherin.”
Draco peered at Harry musingly. “You know,” he said, brushing Harry’s cheek with his own, “I have always wanted a puppy.”
The End
Author's Chapter Notes:
Author: 
dreamyraynbo
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: When Harry realizes his heart’s desire, how far will he go to get it?
Warnings: Moderately fluffy since it’s for Valentine’s Day, but the boys still get to fight, of course.
Author notes: Thanks to PrincessKariboo for writing such a fun intro!
Originally posted here .