After Arithmancy, Draco's last class of the day, ended, he walked hurriedly back to the Slytherin dorms so as to avoid being cornered and verbally accosted by an overly-observant, bushy-haired Gryffindor. Draco had felt her relentless gaze on him all throughout their shared class, no doubt having noticed that only two students had been missing from Defense against the Dark Arts, him and Harry, and she would almost certainly have had something untoward to say about it.

He felt his cheeks flush at the mere thought of the other boy. Draco still couldn't believe that he'd done something as crass as attacking Harry, lips first. He would argue that it was a case of temporary insanity, but he couldn't truthfully say that he regretted it. Draco, who'd shared more partners than was strictly proper in polite society, had never experienced anything like kissing Harry Potter. He kissed like he did everything else, with everything he had. It was clear that he had not had much experience in the matter, but that only spurred Draco on further. He tasted like treacle and something that was distinctly Harry and it drove Draco fucking wild. For most of Arithmancy, Draco could still feel the crackle of Harry's magic coursing through him and it was more effective than any aphrodisiac on the market, he was sure of it.

He frowned as he thought about the fact that Harry wanted them to meet later in the evening. He tried to reason out all possible motivations, the most likely being that Harry wanted to hook up again. It's not as though Draco was opposed, he had the proof of that in his pants. However, though he was inclined to give into his carnal attraction, Draco Malfoy was no sex toy. He demanded dinners at fine establishments, romantic gifts worthy of him, and a title of boyfriend. Would Harry be as willing to date him as he was to fuck him? Draco wasn't so sure. It was one thing to bugger an ex-Death Eater behind closed doors, and another thing to come out of the closet and admit to dating the son of Lucius Malfoy, a name almost as infamous as the Dark Lord's.

Once he reached the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, he was intercepted by Pansy Parkinson before he could reach his room. One of the few other "eighth-year" Slytherins who had returned after the reconstruction of Hogwarts, Pansy was perhaps even more hated than Draco, having tried to turn Harry over to the Dark Lord during the Battle of Hogwarts. At the time the action hadn't offended Draco, though he had known then that it was an incredibly stupid thing to do and she was only further damning herself in the eyes of the Order. She had always been a pragmatist, which Draco found to be an admirable quality, but now, the thought of the pug-nosed girl turning in his – friend? Boyfriend? – was abhorrent. He greeted her with a sneer.

"Pansy, darling. What have I done to earn your delightful company?" This was a game he was familiar with, having played it nearly since he could talk. Thinly veiled insults and threats masked as cordial conversation were a given in polite, Pureblood society. If Pansy was talking to him, it was to ask for a favor or to blackmail him, neither of which he was particularly interested in hearing, especially given the upcoming meeting with Harry.

"Let's cut the crap Draco, this isn't a garden party," Pansy quipped, arching a perfectly shaped brow. "I've seen you with perfect Potter. If you're playing a game here, I want in. Otherwise, I may feel inclined to alert his cronies to your malintention." She lowered her head, looking at him through long lashes, clearly very pleased with herself.

Of all the things Draco had expected from Pansy, this wasn't it. He looked at her again, this time with a new appreciation. Draco had taken measures to prevent unwarranted attention to his courtship of Harry, and for Pansy to have picked up on it was impressive, especially considering that she had never been the sharpest quill in the bunch. However, as much as he respected her attempt to blackmail him (and it might have even worked had he not just spent a good hour snogging the boy), he had too much to do before tonight and would not have Pansy ruin it for him. He gathered his wits and chuckled under his breath, Pansy's eyes narrowing in response.

"Poor, dear Pansy. Just because no one has ever wanted to be within a Quidditch pitch's length of your twat doesn't mean we all suffer the same affliction. 'Perfect Potter' as you called him, and I are an item, or are about to be. So, whatever attempt to blackmail me you no doubt have planned will only serve to make you look worse in the eyes of the Gryffindors, and by virtue of that, all of our peers. I'm curious though, did you think that attacking the Chosen One would endear you to society? Doubtful, considering your little outburst during the last battle. Of course, I've forgiven you, as has my beau, but I'm just not sure that the rest of the Wizarding world feels the same. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to have a soak before my date tonight." And, with that, Draco sauntered off towards his room, leaving a blotchy-faced, fuming Pansy behind him.

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As he lounged in the Slytherin baths, Draco thought long and hard about the "Pansy situation," as he had dubbed it. She would no doubt recover from this blow and make more threats, the worst being to tell the Daily Prophet. Little more than a gossip rag, the publication would love nothing more than to be the first to cover the Star-Crossed Lovers of Hogwarts. Considering that Harry wasn't out of the closet (not that Pansy knew that for sure) and that their relationship was currently-undefined-Draco would have to handle the problem with all of his Slytherin cunning. Luckily, Pansy had been clinging to him since they were toddlers, having once been arranged to be wed. As such, he knew how she operated. She was quick to believe that her opponent had some knowledge that she wasn't privy to, and Draco was using that to his advantage. He just needed her to believe that the Gryffindors both knew about Harry's sexuality and them being an item. Pansy was very short-sighted and if she were made to believe that there would be retaliation from the Gryffindors, she could be persuaded to let the whole thing go.

Draco stood up and got out of the bath before he could prune and surveyed himself in the floor-length mirror that adorned the wall. His ivory skin was covered in tiny falling rivulets of water, moving over hard, smooth planes of flesh. His silver-blonde hair was damp and slightly curly at the ends, a feature he used to hate but now embraced. Overall, he made a very pleasing image and he doubted that Harry would disagree. He sauntered back into his room, sans towel of course, and picked out an outfit while he air-dried. He pulled out an off-white dress shirt and black slacks with a dark blue silk tie that his mother insisted made his normally grey eyes look positively dashing, and she was always right about these things. Once he was mostly dry, Draco styled his hair, leaving it curly, thinking Harry might appreciate the disheveled look, and donned his ensemble. He knew he looked good, but tonight had to be perfect.

This little wrinkle with Pansy had made it all the more urgent that he and Harry become a couple officially tonight, especially now that Draco had admitted to himself that he had actual feelings for the other boy. Once they were a couple for sure, Draco could casually hint that the Slytherins were less than thrilled with his newfound closeness to Harry. He smirked at the thought. If there was anything that he had learned about his beau, it was that he protected those that he cared about with a fierce passion. Draco may be quickly falling head over heels for the boy, but that didn't make him any less of a Slytherin, and as such, he knew how to exploit weaknesses and strengths, and Harry Potter was arguably the strongest wizard who'd ever lived. The smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. Pansy Parkinson would have no idea what hit her.