"No. You're fucking insane if you think I'm wearing that."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, but the gleam in his eyes belied him; he was enjoying this far too much. "You don't have to wear it. You can just leave this room right now. Without your precious invisibility cloak, of course.

"Then, McGonagall will receive this shocking picture-" He held up a photograph, sending chills down Harry's spine. This was no bluff.

"-Depicting the Boy Who Lived leaving the girls' bathroom, along with a letter explaining his terrible habit of peeping on young ladies washing."

Harry gritted his teeth and glared at the smug bastard. It had been a set-up, a dare he couldn't resist, and now he risked expulsion because of it. "Even for you this is low, Malfoy, and I'm not going to play along. We're seventeen, for fuck's sake. Would you stop acting like such a malicious arse?"

Malfoy responded by picking up the open garment bag and holding it against Harry, silently scrutinising, his aristocratic features pensive. "You know, you'd be quite the sexy maid, Potter. Stockings, garters, lacy knickers; you'd give the girls a run for their money."

He ducked a wild swing of Harry's fist and laughed. If he wasn't such a prick he could've been handsome. But his ugly personality twisted his face, turning delicate cheekbones and an aquiline nose into something sinister at times.

"I'll be glad to see the back of you," Draco said. "Just remember it was your own stupidity that did you in."

"Fuck you Malfoy," he spat, turning to walk out of the disused classroom.

"See you tomorrow, Potter."

Harry shut the door on his cackling.

Most of the Hogwarts students had gone home for the holiday. The older ones were probably out in Hogsmeade, celebrating their time off, and Draco had managed to choose a time when the Slytherin dormitories were deserted for the sake of his cruel fun because when he let Harry in, nobody else was present. He'd been left alone in the cloakroom to change, a mocking bit of courteous privacy that had provided with a grin. Harry regarded the outfit and all its accessories with a grimace, struggling to comprehend why anyone would think such a ridiculous outfit to be attractive. It was fussy, and looked itchy, and he was not going to wear that underwear for love or money-

Enough procrastination. Harry sighed and proceeded to don the garments of shame. Whatever Malfoy had mind, it couldn't get any worse than this. Could it?

Malfoy barged in as Harry finished adjusting the outfit. For a few seconds he simply stood there, staring at the sight.

The dress was one of those french maid outfits one saw in muggle romper movies- or porn- with white lace ruffles puffing out from underneath a black overskirt, with a tiny apron stitched atop. It came with stockings that Harry put on for the sake of covering as much of his skin as he could. They were held up by garters, which were in turn attached to underwear, a frilly set of knickers that Draco had further threatened him into wearing. Harry struggled to keep his hands from trying to pull at the dress to cover more of his legs. Malfoy would pick up on his discomfort and use it against him, the sadistic shit that he was. Instead, to give the illusion of indifference, Harry gave a twirl on stockinged feet, ending in double middle fingers pointed at Draco.

It worked; Draco looked taken aback at his façade of apathy. He frowned at Harry, seeming more confused than anything else.

"Let's get this over with."

Harry's words seemed to break him out of his thoughts. Draco motioned for him to follow. Harry quickly stuffed his clothes in a corner out of sight and went after him. They stopped at a door draped with a Slytherin banner, Draco gesturing him inside. The room's interior was also appointed in Slytherin colours, deep green silk curtains lining the lone four-poster bed and framing the window looking into the lake. Clothes littered the floor, books scattered on a mammoth desk. The fire burning low in the grate illuminated the Malfoy crests dotted all around.

"You have your own dorm room?" Harry said, surprised.

Draco grinned. "Amazing what a little bribery and coercion can get you isn't it? You'd know too if you weren't such a stick in the mud."

Harry scowled at him. The boy was truly insufferable. But more than that, he hated himself for falling into such an obvious trap in the first place. It left him at the mercy of a boy who made Dudley's tantrums look reasonable.

Draco hopped onto the bed, observing him from his laid-back position like a master inspecting his servant. Or, in this case, maid.

"So, you've had your fun making me wear a maid outfit?" he stated, nonchalant, daring to hope this would be the extent of it.

Draco raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Oh no, you think you're getting off that easily? Merlin's balls, Potter, you're more naïve than I thought."

Harry sighed. He'd expected it wouldn't be so easy. "What, then?"

"I told you," Malfoy stood and approached him, that glint once again in his eyes. "Today, you're going to be my maid."

"If you make me wash your back I'll stick a knife in it."

Draco sneered. "You can try, peeping pervert, but you won't get the chance. Now, first I want a mug of hot chocolate."

Regret and anger swirled inside Harry. Draco had been hounding him for years, pestering him at any given moment, doing his best to trip him up. And he'd finally succeeded in humiliating Harry in the worst way yet. But showing his frustration would only fuel Malfoy's antics. He reined in his emotions and picked up a labelled jar on the mantelpiece. The container was empty, however, as were the discarded ones beside it.

"You're out of chocolate," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Show some respect when speaking to your master, maid. There's some more mix by the common room fireplace. Chop chop." He flapped his hand.

Harry recoiled. "I am not going out there. I'm not risking another person seeing me so you can get your shits and giggles. How desperate do you think I am?"

"Well, not to point out the obvious but you are in my room wearing that absurd outfit. I'd say you're pretty desperate not to have your image besmirched." He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, I cleared out the strays from the common room so stop your blabbering. Just make the drink and hurry back. Before someone returns."

Harry ventured out of the room with great reluctance, peeping around the corner to survey the area. He thought of the invisibility cloak that Draco had snatched, wondering where he'd hidden it. IF he had the opportunity to search…but Malfoy had taken his wand too, and as willing as he was to punch that arrogant twat's lights out the boy would react quicker with a hex.

The common room seemed to be deserted, but Malfoy was right- someone could return at any moment. He grabbed the jar and pan and fled back towards Draco's chamber, electing to mix the drink in the relative safety of his room.

Draco quirked an eyebrow from where he lay reading when Harry entered the room. "As tasty as you look, Potter, you're not hot chocolate. Are you already chickening out?"

"I'm not risking somebody else seeing me in this getup, however much you'd enjoy that. I'm making the drink here. Give me my wand."

"So you can hex me and run off? I think not."

"Do you want your stupid drink or not," he huffed. Hexing or stunning Malfoy when he didn't know where his cloak or the incriminating picture were was inadvisable. For now, he'd have to play along until an opportunity presented itself.

Draco appeared to have arrived at the same conclusion, but threw his own instead. With a shrug Harry set to work, doing his best to utilise the unfamiliar wand. He bent over the fire and poured the powder into the pan, whispering the simple spell and waved the wand. In seconds, even with the wrong wand, the mixture was frothing, filling the room with the scent of high-quality, magical hot chocolate.

It was strange for Malfoy to have intentionally emptied the common area for this blackmail, not to mention highly unusual. In fact, that he was willing to resolve the entire situation with just this was a miracle. A suspicious miracle. Why hadn't he told anyone else? He was a peacock, eager to strut his stuff and throw others in the shade. So why was he staying quiet about this golden opportunity to humiliate Harry?

"You were wrong, you know," he could hear the insufferable smirk in Malfoy's voice. "I wouldn't let others see you, dressed like that."

Harry turned and scowled at him.

"Oh yes, that's perfect," Draco laughed. "You, on your hands and knees staring back at me. I must say Potter, you really know how to push a man's buttons. Have you done this before?"

Harry straightened and tugged down the bouffant skirt to no avail. The damned thing was designed to accentuate a woman's assets, showcasing the lace-covered arse and tits like fleshy trophies. As a result, it refused to lie flat at the skirt and gaped at his chest no matter how tight he'd tried to tie it, leaving him looking and feeling idiotic.

"What man are you talking about, Malfoy?" he lashed out. "Surely you're not referring to yourself? All I see is a petty little boy fucking with other people to feel joy."

The glare directed at him was surprisingly intense. "That's 'sir' to you, maid. Know your place."

Harry poured the chocolate into a mug, set the pan on a stool and brought the drink over to the bedside, briefly considering pouring it all over those haughty, perfect features. This situation, the imbalance of power, seemed so appropriate for Malfoy. He was conditioned to get off on ordering others about; Harry was just another in a long line of servants waiting on his privileged backside. Probably wasn't used to having his staff talk back though.

"Here's your hot chocolate. Would you like a bedtime story too?"

"No, actually, I think I'll have you tidy my room instead." Draco sipped from the mug. "Not bad. Seems like you've found your true calling after all."

There was no force behind his words, which was unexpected. Harry picked up the stray articles of clothing and threw wrappers away. For someone who slept alone, Malfoy made a surprising amount of mess by himself, although it couldn't be classed as dirty per se. It looked like the aftermath of one of the all-nighters in the Gryffindor dorm, where they wouldn't get to sleep until dawn, if at all, exhausted from random tussles and pointless conversations about anything and everything.

"So you've never shared a room with anyone? Because you make enough of a mess to have."

"All for you to clean. I've never needed to share a room," came the smug reply. "In fact, I didn't have to lift a finger to ensure I'd live in comfort. Father arranged it beforehand so I'd have the chamber to myself."

Harry raised a brow at that. He went to shove them into the cushioned chest at the end of the bed, but Draco sharply ordered him to leave it on top.

Harry threw down the clothes. He was already tired of this charade. "You mean you didn't choose to kick your dorm-mates out before they'd even started at Hogwarts? How nice of you."

Was he mistaken, or did Draco wince?

Harry frowned. "Did you even want a room to yourself?"

"I suppose having other people around might have been fun," Draco shrugged. "But what kind of Malfoy would share a room with other people when he can have it for himself? My father was right to have sorted it out."

"It's not just about doing it because you can," Harry replied, absentmindedly replacing books on their shelves. "It's about spending time together. Talking, fighting, arguing over which Quidditch players would make the ultimate group. You know, normal roommate- normal friend stuff."

There was no answering quip, no insult at the banal activities he spoke of with such fondness. Harry looked back to find Draco had abandoned his reading, instead staring up at the ceiling with a brooding expression.

Sympathy was certainly not something Malfoy needed. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't help but pity the boy. When he'd slept in his cupboard under the stairs, at least he'd had the spiders to keep him company. But later, after starting Hogwarts, summer nights in his new bedroom were too quiet, too still. The lack of human company made him feel as though he was once again completely alone in the world, and sometimes, he would wonder if Hogwarts was just a dream. Hedwig's presence, the reassuring touch of his wand, even the dry text of his schoolbooks all reassured him of the opposite. Malfoy had possibly never experienced the giddy tiredness from hours spent having fun with friends, disputing room boundaries or sharing late-night confessions that were never spoken of outside that space. For Harry, his dorm-mates were his brothers.

Harry looked away, trying to push away the unwelcome emotion at the image of a young Draco first arriving at Hogwarts, dwarfed in this dark, chilly room, left to lull himself to sleep as he had done for so long, without the knowledge that he wasn't completely alone in this strange place.

His eyes locked onto a bowl of green grapes on the nightstand over the other side of the bed. The ripe green globes were a near perfect bunch, the kind fed to Roman emperors by lowly slaves. The implications of that image crept up on him.

Oh no. You are not going to make me feed you grapes.

"Intuitive, Potter! Ten points to Gryffindor. Wash your hands and come here."

Merlin's tits, he'd spoken aloud.

He ran cold water over his hands at the washbasin. Malfoy crooked his finger, motioning Harry forward. It was a bit of a relief that they were no longer occupied with the topic of sleeping alone; it weighed the pair down, filled the room with unwanted memories from both of them.

He approached the bedside and picked up the bowl. Perhaps it would clear the morose air, maybe even lift Draco's spirits, if he just did what he was told.

The thought brought him up short. When the hell had he started caring enough about Malfoy's feelings to actually prefer to serve him than see him sad? Empathy had softened him for a moment, but Harry reminded himself why he was here: to win back his cloak and stop Malfoy from getting him expelled.

Draco tilted his head up, mouth open expectantly. Harry plucked a grape and went to drop it from above. Would it be considered an accident if it lodged in his windpipe and choked him?

Malfoy grasped his wrist before he could find out. "Uh uh. Do it with love."

His smile was shameless evil as he lowered Harry's hand until the grape was just above his lips, so he could grasp the fruit with his teeth. Harry felt a warm puff of breath and the soft brush of Draco's lips against his fingertips, gone in an instant.

An electric sensation zipped through him, sending tingles from that minute point of contact to his belly. It surprised- and confused- Harry.

He pulled another grape off and, after Malfoy raised a brow in expectation, lowered his hand again to his mouth. This time, Draco's lips pressed right against the pads of Harry's fingers, a kiss that stole the grape and sent more prickles through his body.

Draco met his eyes without a hint of levity. As though compelled, Harry held another grape close to his mouth, daring to hope-

Soft, moist lips closed around the tips of his fingers and thumb. Harry held his breath as he released the grape, but didn't pull away. They kept eye contact, green to grey, the air dense with the unspoken.

Malfoy's tongue, warm, wet, pressed against the rough tips of his fingers. He sucked in his cheeks, gently biting down, teasing, tantalising. Harry retracted his other digits so only his index finger remained inside the mouth, pushing in, daring to go deeper.

Malfoy responded by swirling his tongue over the length of the finger. The slow extraction through his puckered lips had Harry breathing hard. A string of saliva stretched between them, bowing and breaking when he pulled away. His cock twitched, rising to the unexpected, but not completely unwelcome, provocation.

Malfoy stared at him, silent and pensive as he chewed the grape, those cool grey eyes assessing Harry's fluster. It unnerved him that his refined features gave no indication as to what had just happened, where Harry struggled to hide his fluster.

"Another."

This time, he didn't place it in Draco's mouth. He hovered just above, waiting. As though Draco could read his thoughts, he craned upwards and bit into the bottom of the grape, squeezing juice out. It dripped down his chin and outstretched neck, a sweet trail that begged Harry to follow. The sensual pleasure, the heavy tension, it weighed on him in the best way. There was no rationality behind his actions, only rising need. He rubbed the exposed flesh against Draco's open lips, juice glossing those enticing lips. The notion of licking that sugary goodness, of delving in for the deeper sweetness inside, sent a rush through him that left his legs trembling.

Against the wishes of the ache in his frilly knickers, Harry retreated. He put the bowl down and ate the remainder of the torn grape, licking his fingers of the liquid remnants from the grape and, he remembered, from Draco's tongue. Malfoy leaned forward a fraction, watching on with a predatory gleam in his eyes. From lust, or the power trip he received from Harry's subservience? It was impossible to tell, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the truth.

Flickering light from the fireplace played over Draco's face, outlining the high cheekbones and jawline Harry had always regarded as disdainful. But not right now. At this moment the ravenous look, the unfamiliar seething hunger illuminated by the fire, it sent shivers down his spine. Malfoy looked like he could eat him in a single bite if given the chance, and Harry wouldn't mind one bit. He retreated a safe distance, aware of the feverish flush all over his body only when he noticed himself in the wardrobe mirror.

The ridiculousness of his outfit- his entire situation- struck him full force, stronger than ever; gangly limbs in stockings and garters, the ill-fitting dress and idiotic underwear, and he was blushing. One did not fantasise about fucking one's blackmailer while wearing garments of humiliation. There was no place for pleasure in this absurd state of affairs.

"I'm done, Malfoy. You've made me do plenty as your maid. Give me back my cloak and destroy the photo now. This has to stop." He couldn't look him in the eyes when he tacked that on.

Draco shifted off the bed, walking towards Harry. He glanced up to see a face set in stone, grey eyes unreadable. Unlike before, Harry could not find it in himself to square up against him. He stepped back, trying to keep some space between them, but Draco continued to force him backwards until his back hit the wall by the fireplace. He was in a prison of arms, fenced in, his jailer leaning closer and closer until their chests nearly touched and Harry could see the sticky residue from the grape still on his neck, a trail leading down under his collar. Draco had grown to stand slightly taller than Harry, so now he was forced to look up into that perfect façade, ignorant of his intent, but sorely wanting to know what he planned.

"What are you looking at?" he challenged, hoping to provoke a reaction. Draco seemed surprised at the defiance, smiling at the sudden spirit Harry displayed.

Those smiling lips, so close, captivated his attention. Soft and pink, ready for more than a finger to be pushed through them. Imagine the fiery passion kissing them would evoke, he thought. It would be a battle of wills, one trying to trump the other for sexual dominance, a fight he would not mind losing. Harry pushed up on his stockinged toes, ready to face the fight regardless of the consequences.

"You want to know what I'm looking at, Potter?" Draco's voice was full of contempt and mockery. "I'm looking at a high and mighty Gryffindor in a maid's outfit, kowtowing to a Slytherin because he doesn't want the world to know he isn't as golden as they believe. Someone who tries so hard to be something he isn't, to please mudbloods and traitors and everyone else, that he's no longer sure of what is real and what isn't."

Any desire he'd had to kiss Malfoy was doused in ice water by that little speech. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself there, Malfoy?" he hissed, shoving him away. "Because from what I can see, the boy whose father controls everything from his sleeping arrangements to his personal opinions really hasn't grown up. Or does bigotry just run in the Malfoy blood?"

"Big talk coming from someone who's never met his own family. How does the saying go? 'Moral indignation is an envious Potter with a halo'?"

Fortunately the leftover chocolate mixture had cooled enough so that when Harry dumped the pan over Malfoy, it shocked more than burned him. He cursed violently and reeled back, tripping over his own feet to fall to the floor.

Of all the remarks Malfoy had made over the years about his parents, this time it had cut right through him. Draco had lulled him into believing that maybe, maybe he wasn't as malicious as he pretended to be, but Harry had been promptly disillusioned of that.

He was certain from the murderous expression on Draco's face as he rose back up that he was gearing up for a fight. Before anything could happen, however, there was a knock at the door.

Both of the boys froze. Dread coursed through Harry at the quiet tapping on the door.

"Draco?" The voice was muffled, though still recognisable as female. What was a girl doing in the boys' dormitory?

"Draco is everything all right? I was passing through and heard a shout-"

"Everything is just fine, Pansy," Draco watched Harry as he spoke, his anger transforming into a calculating expression that sent warning bells off in Harry's head. He shook his head frantically, silently pleading Malfoy to cease his train of thought.

"Actually, I have something to show you." Malfoy gave a small smile. "It's quite intriguing, I'm curious to see what you think of it…"

Harry lunged across the room but Malfoy had already reached and unlocked the door, bringing him up short. He kept his hand on the handle, daring Harry to make another move, safe in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do. He looked about, frantically searching for a space to hide.

Draco motioned him towards the closet. Open it, he mouthed. Harry frowned, suspicious, but obliged. Inside the cramped space was an empty tin hipbath stored upright, with room for little else. There was certainly no space for him to hide. He frowned, confused, staring at the tub. What good was this going to do?

"But first, Pansy darling, I think I'll be taking a bath. I had a little incident just now, left me all sticky. Wouldn't want to stay like that for too long now would I?"

He could hear Pansy giggling from the other side of the door, but Harry was too busy fuming to care. He shook his head at Malfoy, refusing to accept the unspoken proposal. Even for him this was going too far, expecting too much. Running a bath for Draco… it would be beyond demeaning, an act of subservience unlike any other tasks he'd been made to perform.

And yet, rather than concentrate on the disgrace, Harry's mind conjured the image of a naked Draco stretched out in steaming water, skin wet and smooth, water rolling off him as he beckoned to Harry.

"Would you like any help with your bath, Draco? I'd be happy to aid you," Pansy practically purred, leaving no doubt regarding what kind of 'aid' that would be.

"How kind of you to ask, dear Pansy," Draco replied, holding Harry's gaze with an inquisitive tilt to his head. "That is an offer I might just take you up on."

Harry's lip curled. Admitting defeat once again left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he silently tugged the tub out of the closet and gently placed it on the floor.

Draco smiled, triumphant. "But this time, darling, I'll be just fine."

"Oh, ok," came the disappointed reply. "Tell me if you need anything. At all."

His smile widened. "I'll be certain to call you if the need arises, dear."

The threat was hardly subtle. Harry rolled his eyes and dragged the tub towards the fireplace. Now that he knew there was another Slytherin in the dorm, there was no chance of him leaving without his invisibility cloak and risk crossing them on the way out. He'd have to stick it through this last task. And then? He picked up Malfoy's wand, ready to fill the tub.

It would not react well to being used against its owner, but Malfoy didn't have his wand either now. He could wrestle the wand into incapacitating its owner, or just knock Draco long enough that he could search the room for his cloak and the incriminating photo. Malfoy certainly would not let that sort of damning evidence venture far from him. Seeing as he had the entire room to himself there was no danger of someone else finding it either.

"You're a prick, you know that Malfoy?"

"Address me properly, maid."

"You're a prick, sir."

"That's better."

Harry filled the tub jerkily, not particularly caring about hitting the floor with jets of water, before tapping the wand against the rim. Steam began to slowly rise from the water. He watched it curl up and dissipate, orange in the firelight.

"I was wrong to bring up family."

Harry snorted. "That never stopped you before."

Draco did not answer immediately. What could Harry expect him to say? Sorry? Their rivalry had never left space for justification or apology, so why did Harry seek it now? To condone the intensity of his attraction? To somehow erase their past and give permission to feel something for the Slytherin?

"It got a rise out of you." He could sense the shrug in Draco's voice. He, too, had battled his inner thoughts and lost.

"No shit. But it seems to do the same for you now."

Malfoy did not respond. It was enough to hear him admit his fault in the matter. Expecting an apology or even an explanation was out of the question. He turned to Malfoy to tell him to get this over with- and froze.

Malfoy stood by his bed, a gloomy expression darkening his sharp features as he absently removed his clothes. His tie and jumper already lay on the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing tantalising slivers of fair skin until the separated halves unveiled a smooth torso. Of their own accord Harry's eyes dipped to the lower abdomen. Blonde hair, darker than on Draco's head, created a trail that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

The image of Draco, hair dishevelled, shirt undone, the easy pose and lean physique, that pensive expression at odds with his victory, it turned Harry on like nothing before had. This was his adversary, the Slytherin he had butted heads with for years now, both of them contesting one other at any opportunity. And yet, in this state of vulnerability, Draco held more power over Harry than ever before.

Because right now? Harry had the feeling Draco could ask him to do anything and he would obey. The hot throbbing in his knickers grew, his erection pushing against the elastic, begging for release.

"Get the bucket from the closet." Draco ignored his presence and walked over to the tub, kicking off his trousers as Harry returned to the storage closet, still watching him. Maybe he could sense Harry's stare, because Malfoy turned away at the last moment to remove his black silk boxers, gracing him with a fleeting view of taut buttocks before settling into the tub. Which, unfortunately, faced the fire and not Harry's voracious gaze. He shook himself out of the lustful trance, attempting to remind himself of his reason for being here, in this costume, waiting on Malfoy. But again and again that blonde trail interrupted his thoughts.

It probably created a thatch around Malfoy's cock, soft coils from which emerged a pulsing member as demanding as its handler. Draco would stroke it teasingly, raising a brow in expectation, never feeling the need to ask but expecting to be serviced, his desires always being fulfilled.

Or perhaps, when he was alone, the agony of pleasure would show on his face as he stroked himself to a climax, biting his lip, tugging at the bed sheets, panting harshly as his release landed on his belly. Harry prayed for the heat in his face to dissipate. It was an impossible request, with the object of his desire lounging in a tub of water two strides away.

Pansy had probably seen, participated in, that moment of ecstasy, he realised. Judging by her not-so-innocuous suggestion, this had not been the first time she'd stopped by Draco's room. His chest burned at the thought, an ugly fire of envy and despair warping his thoughts. "Is that normal, having girls asking to help you bathe?" Pansy had definitely not just been "passing through" the boys' dormitory after all. She had had a destination in mind.

Draco grinned lazily. "Happens more than you would think. Slytherin girls are so helpful, always eager to…assist."

Harry set down the bucket of supplies with extra force, knocking it against the bathtub so the metal clanged loudly. He refused to look at Draco. Malfoy, or his part, ignored the upset and plucked a bottle from the bucket, pouring the pale green viscous liquid into the tub and agitating the water with his hand. Bubbles frothed up, filling the air with the scent of mint and eucalyptus. He pointed to the bucket, gesturing at Harry to fill it up.

He scowled at the wall. "I guess it's normal for you then, having people make you drinks, feed you and pick up after you, even at Hogwarts."

"My oh my. Are you perhaps jealous of my other helpers, Potter?"

"Jealous of what? A gaggle of insipid followers ready to drop everything at your command? I'd rather they were in my place."

Harry emptied the bucket of its supplies and filled it up with water. It was a trial to resist looking at Malfoy's damp skin, firelight bouncing off the wetness, bathing him in soft orange light all the way to where the bubbles obscured his view.

Damn it. Whether it was annoyance at his lack of discipline, or the bubbly hindrance, he wasn't entirely certain.

"So you'd rather not be here? You feel only antagonism?" Malfoy ran his hooded gaze over Harry's form, lingering where the straps of the garter disappeared beneath his skirt.

"Funny, I've never had a servant shove his finger in my mouth like he wished it was his cock. If you want me to fuck you, Potter, just ask."

"Don't hold your breath. I would never ask for that. Ever."

Draco flicked the skirt. "No, of course you wouldn't. After all, Gryffindors care an awful lot about their pride."

Harry smiled and pushed Draco's hand away.

"Are you ready to wash your hair, sir?" he asked sweetly.

Malfoy closed his eyes and settled back against the cushioned head of the tub. "Only if you wash it for me."

"Gladly."

Harry poured the bucket full of ice cold water right on his face. Malfoy gasped and spluttered, thrashing the water like a hooked fish, too late to escape the unpleasant surprise.

"One would think you'd have learned your lesson, acting cocky when liquids are around," Harry grinned. "But I guess Slytherins aren't known for their intellectual prowess."

And, it turned out, neither were Gryffindors. As Harry stood there basking in Draco's discomfort he failed to react quickly enough to the hand reaching out to grab his skirt. One hard yank and he was falling down, unable to stop himself from hitting the rim and landing in the water on Draco. Soapy water soaked through his dress and underwear. He flailed his arms, trying to lever himself out of the water, but the bastard wrapped his arm around Harry's back, sandwiching them together and preventing him from leaving the water.

"Have a taste of your own medicine Potter," he hissed, snatching back his wand to spray a jet of frigid water directly on Harry's head. It doused Draco too, but he cackled at the startled shouts that erupted. Misery loved company after all.

Harry fought to get away, but the soapy bathwater and Draco, determined to teach him a lesson, kept him right where he was. Harry's frantic flailing finally knocked the wand out of Draco's hand, sending it flying, cutting off the stream and leaving the pair shivering, soaked and panting for breath.

His skin was covered in goose-bumps, the fire doing little to chase away the chills. Beneath him, Malfoy's chest heaved, his arm loosening its bond around Harry as he slumped against the tub. Harry pulled back so he was no longer stuck to Draco, but within the cramped confines of the hip bath it proved impossible to position himself comfortably. And yet, the air felt cleaner, the their animosity no longer creating a pall.

Malfoy watched him, splayed out, exposed. His hair and skin had been washed clean of any chocolate residue. Beads of water chased each other down his throat, joining into rivulets that fell into the groove between his pectorals and further. There was no sound but for their quick breaths.

They moved at the same time, lips meeting in mid-air. Harry withdrew after a moment, hesitant, but Malfoy gently pulled him back, catching his lower lip between his own, a sensual command to stay. Harry released the edge of the tub to grasp Malfoy's bare shoulders, squeezing at the thrilling sensation as he nudged into Draco's mouth, brushing his tongue and retreating, inviting him in. Malfoy responded with a long, slow lick across his bottom lip before he slipped into Harry's mouth, stealing his breath, sending his pulse soaring. He leaned forward until Harry was awkwardly hanging onto him and not quite straddling his legs, but neither wanted to break off just yet. Malfoy caught Harry's tongue oh so carefully between his teeth, flicking against the trapped tip, a surprise gesture that elicited a low moan from Harry.

Malfoy released him with a satisfied chuckle. He caressed the side of Harry's neck, the warmth of his fingers banishing the last of the chills. Harry fought to catch his breath, finally allowing himself to admire the sight of Malfoy naked and wet underneath him. His fingers trailed over the prominent collarbone, giving a playful tick to Draco's hard pink nipples.

"Never kissed anyone as tricky as you, Malfoy."

Those grey eyes sparked. "How many times must I remind you to address me as sir?"

Harry laughed. Before, the assertion of their roles had served to antagonise him, to remind him of his sorry situation, and still Malfoy held on to the master-servant dynamic, as though he was somehow beyond his own physical desires.

"Make me."

Harry unfolded himself, stepped out of the tub and walked purposefully out of Malfoy's line of sight, forcing himself not to look back. Even so, he could feel that predacious gaze moving to follow him. The sound of water dripping onto the flagstones told him that Draco had risen from the tub.

Harry's heartbeat sped up at his audacity, and the unknown consequences thereof. He stopped at the side of the bed, finally looking at Malfoy. As he'd thought- hoped, the Slytherin stood by the tub, watching, waiting. He could see little of his form, silhouetted as he was against the fire, but he kept looking towards him as he reached back to unzip the dress, the wet fabric heavy, sticking to his skin. He tugged down the bodice and kicked the skirt off his legs so that he was left in only the undergarments and stockings.

Draco inhaled audibly. "Holy shit," he breathed, staring wide eyed and hungry at the stockings and the erection peeking over those frilly knickers.

For the first time since the start of this fiasco, Harry felt…powerful. These scraps of lace were having a physical effect on Draco, rendering him gaping and aroused. His outfit, this instrument of humiliation, could be used to his advantage in a way he had not let himself imagine before. He smirked, climbing onto the bed, staying up on his knees as he gave Malfoy his best doe-eyed look.

"See something you like, Malfoy?"

Draco made a sound akin to a growl and stalked over to the foot of the bed, furious and aroused and unashamedly naked, glaring at Harry. "You said you'd never ask me to fuck you."

Harry arched a brow, waiting.

"I'm going to make you beg."

Draco pounced and sent the pair tumbling to the mattress, attacking Harry's lips with a fury matched only by his own. Gone was the slow burn of their first encounter; this time, they fought for dominance, tongues battling, teeth biting, hands grasping anything and everything, Harry rolled them until he was on top, properly straddling Malfoy this time, running his fingers down his abdomen and rejoicing at the flexing of those muscles. Before he could do anything else however Draco rocked him so abruptly he fell forward, allowing him to squeeze Harry's exposed derriere and steal a hard kiss. He tore himself from Draco's swollen pink lips, travelling across his jaw to bite his earlobe.

The world turned and Harry was on his back as Draco retaliated, running his tongue over a stiff, rosy nipple, suckling the tip. Harry arched into the wet warmth, grasping Draco's damp hair. But the journey didn't end there; Malfoy took both of Harry's hands and held them above his head as he travelled further down, kissing his belly, heading towards his eagerly awaiting hard-on.

At the last second he reared back. It took Harry a moment to realise, lost as he was in a sex-filled haze. Draco stared at the strained underwear, ruffling the frills morosely.

Harry raised his head "What's wrong?" he mumbled. Was he having misgivings about continuing?

Draco plucked at the fabric. "It's rather saddening to take these off. I like seeing them on you."

"Malfoy I swear to God I will twist your giant idiot penis off."

Draco touched his chest, affecting a heartfelt expression. "You think it's giant?"

Harry groaned and thumped back against the pillow, hot and frustrated. He heard a chuckle and felt a soft kiss on his stomach. Draco stretched the elastic of the underwear down until Harry's aching erection sprang free. He gripped the shaft and stroked, gentle at first, then firmer. It was glorious, even more so when his mouth joined the ministrations. Draco handled Harry's cock with the confidence of a long-time lover, cupping the sack underneath and licking his way to the sensitive head again and again.

What had he said earlier? Harry likely wished it was his cock in Malfoy's mouth? Well, wish granted. He pushed into the wet heat, sliding between those ripe lips until there was nowhere else to go, the suction pulling on his dick, again and again, until Draco retreated, breathing hard. A mixture of saliva and precum was smeared on his open mouth. Harry reached up and thumbed the fluid, rubbing it across Malfoy's lips, dipping into his mouth. Draco grasped Harry's wrist and licked the thumb, suckling on it, nipping the tip.

"You'd think I would be servicing you, seeing as I'm the maid." Harry remarked, watching the performance, entranced by the tongue curling around his thumb.

"Your turn will come."

The statement lost some of its power since it came out muffled by Harry's thumb. He rolled his eyes and pulled Draco down by the nape of his neck for another kiss, licking his way into his mouth, tasting himself there. He reached down between them to return some of the pleasure he was receiving, but Draco pulled away, staying out of reach. Harry frowned at the evasion, until Draco silenced his thoughts with another kiss, finally stripping off those beloved knickers. There was no time for thinking anymore; Draco attacked his mouth, kissing him with a ferocity surpassing anything previously. He took a hold of Harry's penis and firmly stroked, all the while nudging his way in between his legs. He reached over to his nightstand and fumbled for a moment, returning with a small jar. After gathering some of its contents he ventured further down, spreading Harry's cheeks, pressing the slippery substance against his clenched bud.

Harry felt some apprehension; this was new territory for him, nothing he'd ventured into before. But Draco pressed light kisses on the inside of his thighs, continuing to pump him with the other hand, and he relaxed, giving himself over to the new experience. Draco worked the lubricant against his opening, circling the region, giving him time to become accustomed to the stimulation.

The intensity of the kissing, stroking and exploration soon had Harry pushing against Draco's hand, demanding more, until he gently pushed in the tip of his finger. Harry tensed, but once he acclimated to it he found he wanted…more.

Draco moved back up, grazing the line of his neck with his teeth even as he pushed his index deeper. Harry continued to encourage him, wanting, needing more. Draco added another finger, carefully stretching him. It was a glorious maelstrom of touching and licking that he never wanted to stop. They tumbled to the floor at some point, cushioned only by the plush rug beneath the bed. Draco pulled out of him, throwing Harry off until he felt his legs pressed higher, and fingers were replaced with tongue, leading to all new manners of agonising excitement. Harry took handfuls of blond hair into his hands as Draco's wet, warm, keen tongue licked its way from his fiercely aching cock to his arse, tracing the ridges and bumps of his opening with erotic abandon. He was lost in heat, moaning and arching, a creature of base wants and desires. There was nothing but Draco, Draco's hands, his lips, his oh-so-talented tongue. The world outside their naked bodies had seized to exist.

Finally, Draco turned him to his knees and lifted his hips so that his cheeks were thrust in the air, slick and ready. Harry sank his fingers into the carpet pile, panting, waiting. He felt Draco's cock brush against him. He toyed with Harry, teasing him, passing over and around where he wanted him most. Harry tried to push against him but Draco pulled back each time. He reached over to kiss Harry's neck, taking the time to tug at his throbbing erection. His desire had transcended mere arousal to something catastrophic waiting to be unleashed, a release of historic proportions. Harry turned his head blindly, seeking Malfoy's lips, craving invasion of any sort.

"Draco," he called hoarsely against his mouth. "Draco do it-"

Draco left small butterfly kisses upon his lips, no tongue, none of what Harry needed.

"Do what?" came the sugary enquiry.

"You know what," he whined. It was beyond frustrating, being so close to the best orgasm of his life, and instead he was being forced to make conversation.

Draco threaded his fingers through Harry's hair, forcing him to turn his head. The diabolical twinkle in his eyes made it clear he would not be letting this go.

"Do. What. Potter."

"Fuck me. Fuck me right now."

He hissed when Draco squeezed his cock, shivers rippling through his body.

"What are the magic words, maid?" Draco felt for the jar and rubbed more of its contents between his buttocks. Harry gasped but Draco refused to go further, tantalising, torturing him. He wracked his addled mind for the answer as Draco expertly dragged him across the edge of pleasure, titillating him, then withdrawing immediately after. He fisted the rug and tucked his head down, mumbling and squirming.

"What was that darling? I couldn't quite hear you."

"Please, sir, please fuck me. Now. Please."

In an instant he was on his back, knees to his chest. Draco eased into him with a grunt. Harry cried out at the intrusion, overwhelmed by the size and depth he felt penetrating him. Draco massaged his weeping cock as he slid in and out of the tight bud with building force. The incipient burn turned into a fire of lust, a blazing inferno that raged through Harry's body. He held on to Draco's cheeks, urging him on, trying to push him deeper.

"What do you want me to do?" Draco demanded, driving into him.

"Fuck me," Harry begged. "Fuck me sir. Fuck me hard-"

"And who are you?" Draco gritted out, thrusting harder.

"I'm your maid, sir," Harry panted. "Oh god don't stop -"

Draco hunched over until Harry could feel the hot puffs of breath against his face as he pumped his hips. Harry's roaming hands moved to his back, digging into the undulating skin. They had turned into animals, rutting furiously, scratching and grabbing in sweaty ecstasy. Draco bit down hard on Harry's shoulder at one point. Harry hissed in pain, and as an apology Draco suckled the spot, soothing his skin.

Draco undoubtedly enjoyed the affirmation of their roles; Harry's feverish whisperings of ownership were interrupted by approving grunts and sharp inhales as he drove harder and began to deliberately stroke the tender inner wall, targeting Harry's sweet spot again and again so he was left thrashing and dragging his nails down Draco's back.

Eventually he could not continue speaking, devolving into loud moans every time Draco thrust into him. Malfoy moved faster and harder, muscles contracting all over his body as he went. He was a sight to behold, sweat gilding his skin, those achingly beautiful grey eyes glazed with a sexual high when he met Harry's stare. Harry put his own hand over Draco's, both of them working his shaft with more pressure, greater speed, a tangle of finger and soft, slick skin.

"Fuck- sir I'm coming, I'm coming sir-" He gripped at Draco's shoulder, utterly helpless, the title falling effortlessly off his tongue now.

Draco let loose a string of blistering profanities, but the kiss he gave after was sweet, almost chaste, a balm for his ravaged lips.

And Harry was lost, shouting his orgasm. Moments later Draco joined him, pushing hard, holding tight to his arms as though he would never let go. Harry too clung to him, close not only in flesh but in spirit, sharing that chaotic joy. In that moment, neither had any intention of letting go.

Draco rocked out the last spasms of his climax before he relaxed, falling on to the rug beside Harry. The pair stayed close in the near dark- the fire was low, needing more wood- their heavy breathing audible. Harry felt the residue slowly leave his body. He was covered with the evidence of both their uncontrollable lust, too tired to clean himself up. He had been well and truly used, left sexually replete.

"That was fucking spectacular, if I do say so myself."

A tired snort was all Harry could muster in reply. Exhaustion clouded his mind, obscuring his thoughts, the fatigued mindlessness that precluded deep sleep. In his drowsy state Harry was barely aware of standing on weak legs, Draco urging him up and moving him to the bed. Harry sprawled out without a word, Draco crawling on beside him and falling asleep. The heat radiating from their bodies had yet to abate, so he remained naked, the fine silk sheets keenly felt against his sensitive skin. Harry stared up at the canopy, listening to the ambient sounds throughout the room. The creaking from the walls, the faint crackling from the fireplace, the whisper of bare skin against fabric as Draco shuffled in his sleep.

When he'd arrived here and put on that dress, this was not how he'd expected events to unfold. Nor was he sure Draco had. And yet, the boy had emptied the dorms, had attested he would not let others see him in such an outfit. What did that say about his desires? And what about Harry's feelings? They had been at odds with one another for years, fighting dirty and thinking nothing of it. So where did this suddenly leave them?

Harry yawned and stretched. Whatever it was, now was not the time for thinking. Now was the time for rest. Everything else could wait.

Waking up was a strange experience. There was no confusion; Harry knew exactly where and with whom he was, and why he wore a pair of rumpled stockings. Judging by the clock on the bedside table, he'd only been asleep for about an hour. Soreness in certain parts of his body came to his attention, a new sensation because frankly, he'd never been fucked like that before. Warm bare skin was pressed against his back, a pair of legs tangled with his and an arm flung over his body. The body heat was welcome in the cold room seeing as the fire was completely out. Harry tried to leave the bed to relight it but Draco clung to him, still in the grip of sleep. Eventually he gave up, rolling to wake Draco and free himself.

That was where the strangeness began. Draco's face held none of his customary contempt, smooth in sleep's respite. Those features, so devastating in consciousness, were peaceful at rest. It softened the planes of his face, bringing a charm to his cheekbones that did not rely on animosity. Or maybe that was just a reflection of Harry's changing opinions. He was beginning to see Draco in a different light.

It felt nice to stroke his hair, pushing back the blonde strands covering his forehead. Normally they were slicked back, not a hair out of place. The dishevelment was a pleasant change, and an even more pleasant reminder of their...interlude. He assumed his hair looked the same. After all, sex hair was a firm indicator of a good time had.

He tried not to dwell on certain particulars of that good time, like his desperate begs and pleas to be fucked by Draco, crying out for his sir- Harry screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, mortified and aroused by the memories.

Draco twitched, his eyes opening to slits. He peered at Harry in confusion, taking in their naked state and withdrawing the arm that held him in place. Harry tensed, watching his reaction. Would he kick him out of the bed, returning to their previous relationship dynamic?

Instead, Draco closed his eyes again and flopped back against the pillow.

"Surprised to see me?" Harry kept his tone light, but he was curious. Did Draco regret their intimacy?

"Surprised... You can put it that way."

Harry kept his expression neutral, anticipating the imminent order to leave. But Draco draped an arm over him again, pulling him closer instead.

"I didn't say it was a bad surprise," he muttered. "I'm just not used to seeing another person right when I wake up."

"You've never slept with one of your devoted followers?"

Draco drew lazy circles over his abdomen. "We do many things together, just not sleep."

It dawned on Harry that this was possibly the first time Draco had shared a room- a bed- with someone else. After seventeen years of waking up alone, to suddenly see a naked Gryffindor beside you, that would be disorienting. He felt a childish warmth at the notion that he was Draco's first bedmate. At least he had that over Pansy Parkinson. Then again, he thought wryly, she hadn't been made his personal maid.

And yet, the idea no longer left such a sour taste in his mouth. Not after he saw the effect he had on Draco. 'Maid' suggested he was under his power, but Malfoy's reaction to his body, his words, how his control buckled the moment he was called 'sir', showed that the control flowed both ways.

"I never thought I'd be grateful you have your own room."

"Is that the only thing you're grateful for?" Draco fingers wandered, reaching further down until he came into contact with Harry's semi hard-on. He pawed unconvincingly at the wandering hand, a feeble attempt at resistance that neither believed. Already he was breathing hard, pushing into the palm as he stoked the fire building inside him. His cock throbbed under Draco's expert ministrations, a release already building up.

"You're being awfully generous," he managed to gasp out. "Do you expect something in return?"

Malfoy chuckled. Harry felt a warm puff of air against his hair, shivering as Draco traced the shell of his ear with his tongue.

"Let's say this one's for free." He bit down on Harry's lobe, sucking it into his mouth, stroking faster. Harry pressed back against him, seeking something to brace himself against as pleasure rippled through him. Draco paid attention to every part of him, leaving nothing untouched, spreading that heat everywhere. But every time his orgasm raised its head, the touches retreated. Harry moaned in frustration, confused, straining, until he remembered. He twisted his head around. Draco watched him, grey eyes hooded, expectant.

"Please, sir," Harry pleaded. "Finish me."

Draco was flushed, struggling to contain himself as he stared at Harry caught on the edge of climax. What Harry had realised earlier was reaffirmed now; they were under a spell cast by no wand, their desires leaving the pair helpless to one another.

"Well done, Harry." Draco smiled and captured his lips. Hearing his name fall from those sweet lips, heavy with want rather than spite, was an erotic delight. Those talented fingers returned to his straining shaft, stroke until Harry came with a shout swallowed by his incorrigible lover.

Draco pulled Harry close, tucking his face against his nape. "You know, it's your turn now," he slurred sleepily. "But it can wait."

The rhythm of his breathing slowed, deepened. By the time Harry had calmed down enough to think properly, he was fast asleep again.

He lay still for a few minutes before making his decision, quietly slipping out of the bed. As nice as it would be to stay in the bed with Malfoy, more pressing matters were at hand. He rooted in the darkness for Draco's wand, choosing only to light a wall sconce for minimal illumination. The sound and light from the fireplace was liable to wake up Sleeping Beau. Once he was able to see, he followed his suspicions and searched the chest at the foot of the bed, coming up successful; his invisibility cloak lay hidden at the bottom. As enigmatic as he could be, Draco was rather easy to read, sometimes.

A grunt sounded in the quiet. Draco shivered, turning his head with a sigh. His arm stretched out, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Harry refused to dwell on that thought, although he took a moment to admire Malfoy's backside, bare to the world, pale skin stark in the dim light.

He unfolded the green sheets from the foot of the bed and pulled them over Draco's shoulders. It would be unfortunate if he awoke before Harry had found what he needed. There was only one thing left, hopefully in this room- the picture of him leaving the girls' bathroom. He rooted through the bedside drawers to no avail, moving on to Malfoy's discarded clothing. Nothing turned up. He glared at the sleeping Slytherin, frustrated. Even in sleep, it seemed he could feel Harry's annoyance, for his lips were curled the tiniest fraction in unconscious victory.

Perhaps...

He checked under the first cushion and found nothing, before carefully sliding his hand under Draco's pillow. Stiff paper met his fingers.

As he slipped the photo into his pocket he considered the very possible reality of Draco having made copies, further blackmail to keep him at his beck and call.

Malfoy shifted to face Harry, his eyes still closed in sleep. Considering the trouble he'd gone to, to get Harry to come to the Slytherin dorm, to wear the outfit and even to stay here, he felt that Draco might actually honour his promise and no longer hold the incident against him.

Or he could bring it up at some point in the future, once again using the evidence as leverage to get Harry to do what we wanted.

Harry smirked. The prospect certainly wasn't as daunting, now that he'd been introduced to the fallout. What would happen, would happen, good or ill.

"But I won't go down without a fight," he whispered, dropping a kiss on Draco's hair.

After wrapping his cloak securely about himself, he cracked open the bedroom door, checking to see if anybody else was around, before he slipped out and headed for the cloakroom to retrieve his clothes. Once dressed, it was another tense journey through the common room. His luck continued to hold; the common room was still empty, with Pansy nowhere to be seen, so he was able to quickly slip out.

By the time he arrived back in his own dorm room, a total of four hours had passed. The eternity he'd spent with Malfoy had barely been noticed by any of the other students. It was surreal to see everybody go about their usual business, unaware of the events that has transpired. Nobody knew about the touches and the kisses, the bites and scratches. The way Draco had doted on his body. As Harry fell asleep that night, he found the familiar doubt creep through his mind. But he touched the tender spot on his shoulder, tracing the faint bite marks, holding on to the remnants of the day.

No, it was very real.

They did not acknowledge one another at all over the next few weeks. No antagonism, no secret meetings, nothing. It was as though that day never happened, and while some noticed the unusually peaceful atmosphere that had fallen over the student body of late, nobody directly attributed it to the Chosen One and the Pureblood not fighting anymore. It was their seventh year, where everyone was too caught up in their own lives to worry overmuch about others'.

If Draco did indeed possess a copy of the photograph Harry had destroyed, he had not yet revealed it. Nor had he commented on the missing garter and stockings, or on Harry's sudden disappearance. Perhaps he had expected it. Perhaps he was truly willing to forget the entire event and move on.

While Draco's internal thoughts remained a mystery, his counterpart's did not. One day, he returned to his bedroom to find an inconspicuous parcel on his bed, wrapped in twine, with a sealed enveloped tucked underneath. He peeled back a flap and caught sight of white feathers.

Inside the envelope was a photo depicting the back view of a male, wearing only stockings with garters clipped to his underwear, kneeling on a bed. It was a muggle photo, without motion, printed in black and white so that the black lace stood out against the subject's pale skin. Draco turned the picture over to find two words scrawled on the back:

My turn.