Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, they are all purely J.K.Rowling's brilliance.

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Chapter One – Discoveries

4 Privet Drive.

Harry was sure there were no three words he'd like to see less, including Hogwarts, A History, regardless of the numerous occasions on which Hermione had shoved the book in his face. He would have gladly accepted, even encouraged, Mione's inhuman summer study habits, if it had meant getting away from the Dursleys.

Upon entering the house, he went straight to his room with his trunk, and laid down to think. The face of his godfather, Sirius, popped into his head immediately, but he shoved it out. It would only lead to feeling sorry for himself, and he could not deal with thinking about that pain that Sirius's death had caused him, and the guilt he felt over it. Regardless of everyone telling him that he was not to blame for the unfortunate accident, his conscience still ate at him, telling him that had he not been so quick to assume, Sirius would still be alive. He thought about sending Ron and Mione a letter, but he figured Dumbledore had given them the same orders as last summer – the Don't tell Harry anything and make him go insane wondering order. A sigh escaped him, for he knew there was no point in wishing Dumbledore would tell him anything. He had the annoying habit of only telling Harry what he thought Harry needed to know. Emerald eyes flashed annoyance, and the youth turned on his side to go to sleep.

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After a few weeks of one-sentence letters, Harry was feeling seriously cut off from human contact. With the Dursleys, he either got verbal abuse or being ignored, and being that he was not a glutton punishment, he usually opted for being ignored, with some breaks reserved for teasing Dudley, who was terrified of him. Not that he particularly cared about the severe lack of conversation, considering it was the Dursleys, but he was getting very annoyed of his only option being to talk to himself.

The night of his sixteenth birthday, however, brought about a much happier mood. Ron had gotten him a full set of quidditch players, who played the game on his command. It was very entertaining, and Harry figured it would be taking up a lot of his time, and made sure to let Ron know how much he appreciated it. Ron's lack of money always made him feel as if his gifts were inadequate, and while Harry and Hermione never felt that way, Ron had a certain insecure streak that was rather stubborn to break. Hermione had, of course, gotten him a book, but it was one he was actually willing to read. Another brilliant quidditch book to add to his growing collection. He looked at his gifts, and laughed at his predictability. Every gift he had gotten from them in the past few years had been quidditch-themed. He didn't mind in the least, just found it a bit amusing.

He laid down on his bed, the miniature quidditch players in action next to him on the bed. His thoughts began to drift away from the game, and for some unknown reason, he found himself thinking about Malfoy. Although some might find this strange, coming from The Boy Who Lived himself, but he had found that he didn't really hate Malfoy. Yes, he thought that Malfoy was an obnoxious, arrogant git who needed to learn to keep his fucking mouth shut, but he had noticed something. During the last few arguments, he had actually looked into Malfoy's eyes, and he had gotten the feeling that Malfoy only insulted him for show. He didn't see the same fire in the stunning silver eyes. Wait...did I just call Draco's eyes stunning?? Did I just call him Draco??? Ok there's something wrong here. Why am I thinking about Draco...bloody hell!! Malfoy!!...His fucking name is Malfoy!! Once he had calmed himself a little bit, he shut his mind off from his troublesome thoughts, not wanting to be that freaked out twice in one night. As he closed his eyes, Malfoy was still in the back of his mind, and he heard a voice – :Harry:. Strangely enough, it sounded exactly like Malfoy. Harry brushed it aside, thinking it was nothing, until he heard it again, and then again. It is Malfoy!! But what the fuck is his voice doing in my head?? He listened to it for a minute, and realized that the voice was filled with pure pleasure. Malfoy sounded as if he was in heaven. Okay, so Malfoy is thinking my name, and he is very happy while doing it. A thought crossed Harry's mind, a thought so stunning and unexpected that he very nearly fell off the bed. Surprisingly, the thought wasn't all that disturbing or disgusting in Harry's mind. In fact, he was thoroughly amused by it. He listened for a minute more, and heard Malfoy moan in a way that got to him more than he would be willing to admit. Oh my God. An evil grin spread across his face, and Harry's eyes gleamed. I have got to have some fun with this.

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Draco moaned as he pictured Harry in his mind, his hands working fast on his body. He pictured Harry underneath him, moaning while he licked, caressed, and memorized every inch of Harry's perfectly tan, muscled body. Nobody knew, but he had once caught Harry showering in the quidditch locker rooms, and he had not been able to get the sight out of his mind since. He had always suspected that his fascination with annoying Harry had held more than just plain dislike, but now he knew that he really liked him, a point proved by Draco's current actions.

He could sense himself getting close now, and he closed his eyes and pictured Harry begging Draco to take him, make him come. The sounds that his dream-Harry were making drove him to the brink of orgasm, and he came screaming Harry's name in his mind. He lay there in silence for a few moments, savoring the content feeling within him. His eyes were closing once again as he heard a voice: :Enjoy yourself?: Draco shot up on his bed. The voice had sounded distinctly like Harry. It couldn't have been him, expect for one small thing. If he concentrated, Draco had been able to hear Harry's thoughts in his head since the night of his sixteenth birthday. Still, there is no way that was directed to me, Draco assured himself.

:Think again:, the voice said.

:Potter??? What the fuck are you doing in my head??:

:I don't know, I just started hearing you: Harry's voice said defensively.

:Well, then get out!!! I am rather fond of my privacy!

:I'll bet you do: Harry's voice sniggered.

:Now what in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean?: Draco sighed with impatience, despite the fact that he wasn't actually all that bothered by Potter's voice in his head.

:Did you enjoy yourself?:

:Enjoy myself doing what, Potter?? Must you always be so annoying?:

:Well, let's just say that my ability to hear what you were thinking came while you were having a bit of fun: the voice said wickedly.

It took Draco a moment to comprehend what Harry meant. When he realized, he practically fell off the bed. :What?? I wasn't doing anything like that!!: came the frantic reply.

:Wow, I don't think I've ever heard a Malfoy panic. Surely you're not losing your touch?: Harry's voice said teasingly.

:I am a Malfoy. I do not panic.: said an indignant voice.

:Then why don't you just admit what you were doing, because that's not even the worst of what I have to say.:

Oh my God. There is no possible way he could know who I was thinking about. Despite the fact that he was a Malfoy, he was indeed panicking.

:Guess again.: Harry's voice said. :I know exactly who you were thinking about.:

:There's no way you could know.:

:Oh yes there is. I heard my name in your head, and the way it was said, it sounded like you were having a damn good time while thinking about me.: Harry said wickedly.

No, no, no. This is not happening. I did not just jack off to thoughts of Potter and he did not hear me.

:Oh, yes it is happening. Oh, and Draco? I don't care that you were thinking about me, and the way you were moaning made me wanna think about you.:

Draco could hear the smile in Gryffindor's voice, and with that, the additional presence was gone from his very confused mind. Ok, so let me get this straight. I just jacked off thinking about Potter, he caught me, then he called me Draco, told me that he didn't mind, and that he wanted to think about me. Merlin, what is the world coming to?! Draco didn't want to think anymore. He was sure that more thoughts of Potter would result in him having to deal with a situation he didn't want to deal with twice in one day. So he opted for sleep. Never mind the fact that when he slept, he would only dream of Potter.