To my dear friend, the witty and sassy aarroyo715. Consider this birthday extra number two. I hope you like it.

Opportunity Awaiting

He knew something was off.

In the midst of Pansy babbling about the so-called tragic horrors of summer spent with her family and her thoughts of the upcoming school year (which was the very last thing he wanted to think about), Blaise smirking and taunting, Goyle staring blankly into space, he knew something was off.

It started off small.

The flash of white that appeared when Blaise came in.

The thump from above that he originally pushed aside, believing that Goyle's bag simply hit another suitcase.

A sudden change in the air.

Then the small changes became more prominent.

The stifled groan that was picked up after the thump.

The feeling of someone looking at him, watching him.

The air splashed with a certain scent that danced across his nostrils. The whiff of cinnamon and treacle tart.

There was only one person he knew who was associated with that scent.

Heart beating in anticipation, he made sure his face remained as it was, cool and calm as if nothing had changed.

He never thought he'd ever be happy to back at the dreadful school until the train pulled onto the platform.

"Draco, darling," He looked up into Pansy's smiling face that was too bright, too sickly sweet for his liking. "Are you coming?"

"You go ahead," he told her, unfazed by the frown that darkened her face. "I just need to check on something."

She looked like she was about to protest, and no doubt would have done so if Blaise hadn't picked on his mood and pulled her away, ignoring her complaining about being manhandled.

Draco watched students gathering their things, filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Left alone in the compartment, he calmly got up from his seat and walked over to the compartment door, letting down the binds. He cast a similar spell on the windows, watching as every shade was pulled down.

He pulled out his trunk and opened it. It wasn't until he felt a strong presence settling behind him, the smell of cinnamon and tart hitting him from all angles, that he striked.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

There was that sound again-a stifled yelp cut too soon as the spell hit, knocking the person against the wall before they hit the ground. Whatever glamour or spell he used to mask himself disappeared as he crashed onto the floor.

Potter looked up at him, paralyzed, bewildered but furious. About as furious as a person could be placed under a binding spell.

"I suspected as much," Only Potter was insane enough to venture into the snake-pit alone. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And knew there was only one person who eats enough tart to smell like it. Really, Potter, you should think about improving your grooming habits. Or if that's too complicated for you, try upgrading to a better cologne."

Potter glared at him, those impossibly-green eyes burning with all the insults and curses he would have screamed if his lips weren't sealed.

Draco supposed he could have oblivated the boy's memory. It was what he usually did when a nosy student decided to eavesdrop, but it would be a waste of a good spell. After all, Potter didn't hear anything valuable enough that could be used against him.

Something, though, needed to be done with him. There was no question about that.

This boy was the reason (or at least part of the reason) why his father was now in Azkaban. Why his mother was now under the watchful eyes of the Ministry who were just waiting for her to slip up. To make a mistake. He was a thorn to Draco's side that has been digging deeper and deeper into his skin as the years went back, giving him nothing but aggravation and migraines.

On the other hand, as infuriating as Potter was, as sickening as his goody-goody hero-charisma was, Draco couldn't deny that was something intriguing about the boy. Something magnetic that pulled him in first year, and has been pulling him back each time no matter how much he fought against it. Something that made him want to seek out Potter, to draw his attention, to do and say just the right thing to make those vivid greens come alive with fire when they turned to him.

And he's alone, a voice whispered. The words caused a smile that rivaled that of the Chesire cat to turn his lips, a sight shocking enough to put Potter on the edge. It made his smile broadened.

They were alone. The more he about it, the more his smile widened until it blossomed into a full grin. For the first time in ages they were alone. With no classmates, no teachers, and more importantly no annoying friends to interrupt them.

Draco looked down at Potter whose eyes were blazed like a raging emerald fire.

He would be a fool to let this moment pass him.

But first things first.

Potter's head whipped to the other side as Draco's hand made contact with his face. Draco was pleased to see the bright red print of his hand branded onto the boy's smooth skin.

"That was for my father."

"Goddamn stinking prat." Caught in the whirlwind of his anger, Potter failed to notice that the slap acted as a counter-spell, giving him the freedom of motility again.

Too bad he was wasting that freedom to rant at him.

Draco decided to personally show him the other benefits he was overlooking, descending upon the boy with hungry lips that nearly devoured him right then and there. Swallowing his gasps and whimpers, pressing his body against his.

Potter, as expected, refused to go down without a fight. He tried pushing Draco off him, banged his fists against his chest. But just as he was determined to escape, Draco was just as determined to keep him there. He refused to let anyone, including Potter, to get between them. He waited too long for this. Played too many scenarios of him kissing, devouring, claiming the boy thousands of times in his head, bleeding into his dreams that always had him gasping hard and tight with need. He wasn't going to let this moment slip away.

Grabbing the smaller boy's wrists, Draco pinned them to the sides of his head without breaking the hold of their lip-lock. Potter then tried pulling away, a move that proved to be invalid since there was nowhere else to go, then thrashing his head to the right and left as if he could shake Draco off.

Too bad for him, Draco wasn't having any of that.

Biting down hard on Potter's lip, Draco used his surprised gasp to slip inside his mouth, quickly discovering it was more delicious, more addicting than he dreamt. He explored every inch of the sweet cavern, becoming intoxicated.

He could tell Potter was falling under the same spell, becoming just as drunk. He was no longer trying to fight him. If anything, he was drawing him near, cupping the head of his head and pulling him closer.

A rush of thrill and want swept through him as he head a moan, a soft but unmistakable moan, slip through the boy's lips.

Moments later, he pulled back and stared down. Potter's lips were red and swollen. His eyes wide but dazed.

Flustered was a good look on him.

"What…" Potter panted, then cleared his throat. He took in a deep breath. "What was that for?"

"The slap was for my father, as I told you before."

"And the kiss?"

Draco smirked. "Why, that was for me. And I'm not quite done collecting."

He slammed against Potter's lips, his tongue tasting and seeking, brushing against the other boy's tongue. This time Potter indulged him, putting up another fight but a different one. He slashed and parried with his tongue, battling Draco for dominance, unknowingly starting a fire that stirred inside of him.

He was an excellent fighter, making Draco's head spin with each burning flicker of his tongue that sent a coil of heat to his very core.

When the need for oxygen became too much, Draco pulled away but not completely. His lips slide over to Potter's neck, feasting on every inch of skin that was available to him, relishing in the sounds coming from his rival's mouth.

"Draco." The boy moaned. He never thought his name sounded more wonderful, better than it did at the moment.

He wanted to strip him of everything and do everything he could do possibly do with his body, and then more.

He wanted to taste every inch of skin.

He wanted to brand him.

But time wasn't on his side, passing by too quickly.

He still had time for one more indulgence.

He pulled away from the boy, smirking at the protested whimper he heard. Potter moved forward, but was yanked back by the binds he casted, using the cuffs of his jacket to keep him in place. Potter was stunned, though nowhere near shocked as he was when Draco slowly slide down his body, brushing his lips against the skin that was regrettably-clothed, coming face to face with the zipper of his pants.

Potter's eyes were wide, green saucers as he pulled that zipper down, pushing his pants, along with his black boxers, down to his ankles.

"Draco…what are you-" His cut words were cut off by a loud moan that burst from him as Draco drew a clean line along the length with his tongue. "Merlin's-balls!"

Divine, Draco thought of the taste, the moan, everything that had do with this moment.

Pre-cum was leaking from the tip, and Draco flickered his tongue against it back and forth, watching as Potter's head seemed to be flowing in the same direction as his tongue-brushing, thrashing back and forth, hips thrusting.

"Dra-Draco," A loud moan erupted from him. Potter's bound hands were clenched into tight fists. "So…fucking…good."

And I haven't started yet.

"Potter," He smirked at the whimper that fell from the boy's lips as he pulled away from the member. "I want you to look at me."

He did, his breathing hard, those vivid greens wide and dazed. Then nearly came undone as Draco took him into his mouth and sucked hard.

"FUCK!"

That was all the encouragement Draco needed, continuing on with his actions. Gripping tightly onto Potter's thrusting hips, Draco sucked, his tongue licking and brushing against the shaft, playing with the tip, pulling and coming back as he ran up and down the length, drawing pleas and moans from Potter that was music to his ears.

"Draco….ah..oooh. So good."

For once they were in agreement. Draco sucked hard, increasing the speed of his movements.

"Draco…I'm going-dear Merlin-so-close….I'm gonna…I'm gonna…."

The boy practically morphed into a lion, throwing his head back as he roared loud, unleashing streams and streams of white that exploded from him.

Draco swallowed every last drop of it, not letting a single one get away.

"Merlin." Potter breathed, his body limp as a rag doll.

Seems we're in agreement again, Potter, Draco thought with a smirk, wiping his mouth before leaning down to capture the boy's lips again. This kiss was different compared to the others they've shared before. Softer, slower, tender. Even though the pace had changed, the heat between them didn't diminish, still hot, still searing with every touch and flicker.

It almost pained Draco to pull away.

"Not bad, Potter," he told him. "It seems you're finally useful for something."

Potter snorted. A remark was ready to be flung, Draco could sense it, hanging just on the tip of his tongue. Before he could say it, he found himself bound again, from head to toe as Draco murmured the paralyzing spell again.

Stunned, he looked up. Draco smirked as he straightened himself up and stood.

"As amusing as you were, Potter, you do deserve that for spying on me."

Those eyes that were dazed moments ago hardened into a burning glare. It made him look more delicious.

"If you somehow manage to escape and wish for another indulge, you know where to find me."

He ripped the cloak from underneath his immobilized body and threw it over him, watching as the boy disappeared before his eyes.

Grabbing his cloak and his trunk, he left train with a proud smirk on his face, still tasting the spice of cinnamon and tart and something completely Potter on his tongue.