A/N: I grew up! :D So, naturally, this story begged to be both abandoned and continued at the same time. I was around 16 when I started this and I kept growing as a writer and as a person, so I would always find things that I wanted to remove/add/change. As a result, it just kindof stayed in limbo. Now that it's finished, I might rewrite it. Either way, there will be others like it (so many on my hard drive that I wouldn't let myself post until I finished this). There may also be a companion piece one-shot. So, if you like it, follow me! Allonz-y!

Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room in front of the crackling fire, his presents stacked beside him on the couch. He'd promised Hermione and Ron that'd he wait for their firecall to open them. So he waited, listening to Dean rant about the latest Witch Weekly feature over some new wizarding celebrity.

"He's not even that good!" Dean whined. "If you ask me, the award should go to Demetri Munston. He's been doing it twice as long, and has more talent than four of this guy."

Harry pretended to listen. The mistletoe incident simply wouldn't leave him alone. The stupid charmed sweets had long since worn off, but he just couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy's kiss. The memory alone sent tingles through his body. Harry groaned pitifully, stuffing his face into a couch pillow.

Dean looked up from his copy of Witch Weekly. "I know. Completely unfair."

"Harry!" came a feminine voice from the fireplace.

Harry spun to look at her ash-covered face and grinned. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas!" came a chorus from behind Hermione.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks for the books, Harry! Ron says thanks for the muggle sweets. He doesn't know who 'Reese' is, but those seem to be his favourite," she said, chuckling quietly. "Go on, Harry, open your gifts!"

Harry's family at The Burrow took turns using the fireplace to send him their well wishes while he opened his presents; a knitted hat from Hermione; an enchanted one-person chess board (for practice, Ron had insisted), a new red sweater from Molly with little snitches that flew around a big letter 'H', and a packet of unlabeled, unexplained chocolates from Fred and George. Harry set those down swiftly after opening them, cringing inwardly.

As the fireplace finally returned to normal, Harry sighed. He'd been so tempted to tell them what had happened, but he decided it could wait. Besides, maybe he could pretend it didn't happen for a while. He could hide in Gryffindor tower and pretend he'd never been kissed by Draco Malfoy. Or felt his soft hair. Or became intoxicated by his scent. Or kissed him back as if it were him who'd been under a love spell.

Harry placed the pillow back over his face and groaned.

It had taken all of the effort Draco had to not go running to Potter for a repeat of Christmas morning. He had locked himself up in the dormitory, tossing and turning in his four poster bed. His only reprieve came in the form of a letter from his mother detailing the wizarding regions of Peru. Attached to the letter had been a package that contained a scarf made from some inexplicably light fabric. It was blue, but nearly see-through, with small golden suns stitched on. It was apparently made to protect you from disease, or so said his mother's letter.

Draco toyed with the fabric carefully as he lay sulking in bed. I've got a disease, alright. He dropped his hands, letting the scarf flutter down to cover his face. He waited.

"It's not working," he announced to the empty room.

Despite the long and boring day spent in his dormitory, Harry was strangely reluctant to make the trek down to the Great Hall to meet the students coming back from London the next day. He shambled slowly through the corridor, fiddling with the loose threads in his crimson red sleeve. It meant they would catch the student responsible for the potion, which also meant Malfoy would be back to his usual (hateful) self. He would feel nothing for Harry after today. Well, nothing good anyway.

Stop it, he admonished himself sharply. Sweet Merlin. It was only a kiss.

"Potter!"

Harry practically leapt out of his skin, whirling around to face the owner of the familiar, but strangely close, voice. He took a step back as the blond stepped closer, holding his breath. They were alone in the corridor.

The blond was looking Harry up and down, from his cheesy jumper and tatty trainers to his lopsided hat. He chuckled.

"What?" Harry blurted self-consciously, raising a hand to check that his hair wasn't sticking up at an odd angle.

Draco smiled again, surprising Harry with the realization that the expression suited him very well if his suddenly dry mouth was anything to go by. Draco was shaking his head, his expression remarkably soft for someone who was supposed to hate him. "You're just so . . ." he trailed off, looking pained..

"So . . . what?"

Malfoy suddenly had Harry by the shoulders, pushing him backwards into the wall of the corridor. His expression was one of intense interest, and his stormy grey eyes seemed to hypnotize him. "Harry," he said softly. The hands on his shoulders traveled down to grasp firmly at Harry's hips.

The Gryffindor involuntarily gasped at the trail of heat Malfoy's hands left on his skin. He blinked as he watched Malfoy's smirk emerge, belatedly wondering why he wasn't resisting. "Malfoy," he tried warningly, and was surprised that his voice came out as evenly as it did.

"Call me Draco," the blonde near-whispered, and then he pressed his body forward at an agonizingly slow pace until he had Harry completely pinned against the wall. He dipped his head to press a teasing kiss on the other's neck, and Harry could feel the prat's wide smile when he responded with another short gasp of breath.

Harry then realized he'd been frozen and had forgotten to respond. "But, I – why? I mean, you, err-"

"Please," Draco muttered in Harry's ear, effectively stunning him into silence again at the prospect of a Malfoy pleading with him. After another second or two of silence, the Slytherin slid his hands up under Harry's sweater to meet his warm skin, and with deliberation, his lips began to seek out the sensitive spots around Harry's neck, jaw line, and just behind his ear. Between each press of his lips was a whispered "please" or "Harry." Paying extra attention to those spots that made Harry squirm, Draco finally bit down teasingly before clamping down on the darkened spot and sucking.

"Fuck," Harry suddenly swore breathlessly, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Draco!" He heard Draco actually growl in response, which was bloody well the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Then, he felt the Slytherin shift his hips forward until Harry felt a distinct hardness against his own.

"Well, there's an idea,"

Harry swallowed thickly upon realizing how soverytempted he was to do with Malfoy all the things he'd been thinking of doing the other day under the lust charm. Ah, there it was – the very important something that kept him from giving in. "But . . . the love potion."

"What about it?" Draco mumbled disinterestedly, moving a hand upwards to lightly tease one of his nipples.

The Gryffindor's body jerked in response, and he let out a bubble of nervous laughter that made him blush. He pressed on through the other's continued teasing. "You – You're not yourself. The potion's making you feel these things. You don't really- Ah! S- So, I can't, er, take advantage."

Draco froze for a moment. Sighing, he removed his hands from Harry's person and moved back just a few inches to look at him properly.

Harry shivered.

"Noble Gryffindor," Draco grumbled.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!"

Springing away from one another, they turned to see Professor McGonagall at the end of the hall. If she noticed their proximity, she said nothing.

"Come to my office, please."

"Johnathon Thorne."

"How did you find him so quickly?" Harry blurted the moment he saw the sandy-haired 3rd year sitting stiffly in McGonagall's office.

"He was trying to sell some drugs to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team on the train," Professor Snape replied, glaring balefully at the young boy.

"They are not drugs!" the kid cried out."They're PEPS. Performance-Enhancing-Potions. And they need them. Have you seen how badly they play?"

"Well, I won't argue with that," McGonagall stated with a sniff. "But, incidentally, that kind of "enhancement" is against the rules. I hope you realize you could be expelled for this."

The boy blanched at that word and snapped his mouth shut.

"Now. About a week ago, you sold Ms. Parkinson a love potion. We need you to remove the effects immediately."

"Effects?" the boy asked slowly, confusion tinting his expression.

"Yes, the effects!" Snape was already becoming impatient. "She had intended to use them on Mr. Malfoy here, but she somehow misused them and now we have an unfortunate situation between him and Mr. Potter."

James blinked, staring wide-eyed at the two near the door. His expression broke into mirth as he laughed, but quickly covered it up with a cough. "Wow, that's interesting . . . because the potion wasn't really a love potion."

"What?" Draco and Harry shouted simultaneously.

"It's just an enhancer," the boy explained nervously. "All it does is bring out a person's buried emotions and amplifies them. It makes them impossible to ignore for a few days. I reckoned Pansy would never catch on, because I was so sure Malfoy already had feelings for her and all." The boy put his hands into his pockets and glanced around at Malfoy again. "It can't create feelings that weren't already there."

Harry just stood there, staring at the 3rd year in shock. He turned to look at Draco, but blinked at the empty space there. The door slammed shut.

Professor Snape made a noise somewhere between disgust and horror, and McGonagall (after trying and failing to hide her amusement), jumped into a lecture on unknown or illegal substance distribution and the matter of his detention for the next two months.

Harry was frozen in place for several seconds. His heart felt like it was freezing and heating up at the same time. His stomach had done a somersault, and a voice at the back of his mind was telling him to go after Draco Malfoy.

So he did.

It wasn't until Harry reached the Slytherin common rooms before he realized he wouldn't be able to get through it without his invisibility cloak. He swore, glaring up at the ceiling in frustration before rushing back to Gryffindor tower.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed the moment he clambered through the portal, throwing her arms around his neck in a crushing hug.

Ron stepped forward and patted him firmly on the back, "Have a good Christmas?"

Harry only laughed in response, patting his friend on the shoulder and trying to get past them.

"You look a bit out of breath, Harry. And what is that?" Hermione asked loudly, pointing to something on Harry's neck.

Immediately, he blushed as he suddenly realized Malfoy must have left a mark on him earlier. "It's nothing!"

"Nothing?" Ginny appeared next to Hermione and laughed. "That's a hickey!"

"A hickey?" Ron asked, frowning. "From who?"

His friends stared at him, waiting expectantly.

Harry sighed. They wouldn't let him off easy, and he really didn't have time for an easy confession and a full story. He needed to get to Malfoy. He took a deep breath and whispered, so only Hermione, Ron, and Ginny could hear. "The hickeys are from Malfoy. He fell in love with me because someone slipped him a love potion, but it turns out it really wasn't a love potion – so, he actually genuinely likes me, and I think I genuinely like him, too, and now I need to get my cloak so I can sneak into the Slytherin dormitory and tell him that." He took a deep breath. "Also, I'm gay. If that wasn't clear." At their stunned silence, Harry slipped past them and bounded up to his dormitory to fetch his invisibility cloak.

"What the bloody hell did I miss?" Ginny frowned.

Thud went Ron's body as it hit the floor.

Draco Malfoy lay on his four-poster bed with the curtains drawn tight, one arm draped across his eyes. He was miserable. What must Potter think of him now that he had apparently turned into a sodding Hufflepuff all on his own?

The sound of his curtains opening made Draco sit up, and he opened his mouth to yell at whichever Slytherin had dared disturb his inner turmoil. He stopped, though, as there was nobody there. The curtains hung open for a moment and then shifted closed, seemingly on their own. Draco stared as empty space was magically filled with a smirking Harry Potter when he removed the fabled invisibility cloak and slung it across his bed post. The Gryffindor cast a muffliato around the bed. "Potter?"

"That's 'Harry' to you."

The Slytherin frowned at that. Then, to his further confusion and horror, Harry crawled onto his bed to settle on top of Draco's legs, one knee on either side of his own. His heart was beating erratically in his chest. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off bragging to your friends about how Draco Malfoy has become embarrassingly crazy about you and didn't even need a real potion to do it? You could be telling them all about how the Great Malfoy Heir wants to shag you to the ground, but more than that, he wants to kiss you and hold you. He wants to take you out to dinner and impress you and do all sorts of ridiculous Hufflepuffery with you." Although Malfoy's expression was pained, it was earnest.

Harry's heart soared and he didn't even try to stop the grin that erupted on his face. He shifted closer to the blond, and nodded solemnly. "I could be telling them all about it," he agreed. "But I'd much rather be here."

Draco gave him a suspicious look and leaned back into his headboard with a dull thud. "Why?"

Harry reached out and placed his hands on either side of Draco's face. "For someone who gets nearly top marks in everything, you're remarkably obtuse." With that, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the other boy's until something seemed to finally click in the Slytherin's mind.

With a groan, Draco slanted his mouth against Harry's and the kiss deepened. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized that this time, neither of them were of the delusion that this wasn't entirely real. They slowly broke apart, breathing deeply of eachothers' scents.

Draco was the first to speak. "Was calling me 'obtuse' your way of confessing your undying love for me?"

Harry flushed, looking sheepish. "I don't – I mean, this is all so sudden. I only just found out how you . . . ."

Without meaning to, the Slytherin let himself frown. "Merlin, Potter, it's a miracle I didn't send you running for the hills with all this."

"I didn't put up much of a fight earlier, if you'll remember. And on Christmas, I couldn't stop thinking about how you kissed me. I guess what I'm saying is that, err, participating in all sorts of 'Hufflepuffery,' as you put it, sounded really nice." Harry bit his lip nervously. "With you, I mean."

They stared at eachother as a few seconds of silence ticked past. Draco made a show of sighing. "Well, I suppose. I mean, I'd have to clear my schedule. Cancel a few dates. That sort of thing."

Harry nodded sagely. "Ah yes. The notorious Slytherin Sex God must have a lot of people lined up."

"You have no idea."

The Gryffindor was running his fingers lightly through Draco's hair, marveling at the silky strands and staring at him with a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Of course, none of them are you," Draco said and leaned forward to kiss Harry Potter for all he was worth.