(Warnings: Smut ((not totally graphic, but still there)) mentions of self harm.)

Being the bigger man is tough, especially when you're shorter than the person you're trying to out-mature. For Harry, it's just about impossible to keep in his rage as Draco Malfoy brags about his position on the Inquisitorial squad loudly in front of his drooling cronies. Eventually Harry's had enough, and packs up his things, getting up and off the grass, the bags under his eyes flashing purple in the twilight.

"You better watch yourself, Potter!" Draco shouts at Harry's back as the black-haired boy walks away, hastily. Another confrontation with Malfoy is just about the last thing he needs, but it happens none the less.

It takes all of his will, but he's able to turn away from Draco's taunts before he ends up punching the blonde's lights out.

"Ignoring me, eh?" Harry just keeps walking, clenching his fists. "You probably couldn't face me anyway. My father said your dad was cowardly too-" Draco says, a sneer clear in his voice. Harry spins around, his will forgotten, all punishment forgotten, and green eyes blazing with fury.

"What did you say?" Harry says, standing directly in front of Draco, looking up slightly at the pale man's skeptical face.

"I said, your father-" Draco jams a finger into Harry's robe-clad chest. "Was. A. COWAR-" Draco never finishes his thought, because Harry's fist has connected with his cheek.

Draco stumbles backwards, his hand tenderly massaging the now inflamed portion of his cheek. Harry storms back up to him.

"SAY IT AGAIN. SAY ONE MORE THING ABOUT MY FATHER!" Harry yells, capturing the attention of several students around the yard. Draco grunts and straightens up, glaring down at the smaller boy.

"Oh, I have plenty to say about your blood-traitor father." He says, coldly. Another one of Harry's punches lands on him, this time, in the stomach. Growling with rage, Draco swings his pale fist, hitting Harry by the temple.

People start making a ring around the two fighting 5th years, red and green flashing in their robes. Fists fly, and taunts and curses are shouted, but wands are never drawn. They end up in a heap on the ground, with Harry sitting low on Draco's hips, punching him repeatedly in his now bleeding face.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The now large crowd chants.

"Enough!" A powerful female voice booms. The crowd instantly silences and disperses, muttering to each other.

Still blinded by rage, the two boys continue to pummel each other, Draco now on top of Harry, holding his wrists above his head in one hand, and landing punches with another.

With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall forces Draco and Harry apart, each still seething with rage.

"What is the meaning of this!" The Professor barks at the teenagers.

"He insulted my father!" Harry shouts, throwing a hate filled stare at Draco, who's chest is heaving with heavy breaths.

"He threw the first punch, I had nothing to do with it." Draco replies, smugly, though it doesn't really work with his forming black eye and split lip.

"Fine, fine. Now, under normal circumstances, I would bring the issue to the headmaster-" she pauses, a look of clear unhappiness on her wise and wrinkled face. "but I don't think that's necessary." As she says it, both Harry and Draco know that the real reason is that the green-robed witch absolutely DESPISES Delores Umbridge.

The "Devil in Pink", as she's been known to be called, has completely taken over Hogwarts, under the strict guidelines of the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge.

"I will give you both TWO options." She says sternly. Draco and Harry share a look of complete loathing and hatred, but also one of agreement. Agreement that they would take the easiest punishment, no matter how demeaning because let's be honest; what could be worse than detention with Filch?

"Your first option would be a month of detention with Mr. Filch..." She things for a moment, before setting her face with a sly grin that is not usually worn by her. Gray and green eyes exchange nervous glances, their skirmish forgotten in the nervous suspense created by the still silent witch standing between them.

"Your second..." She grins. "Hold hands for an hour, in the Great Hall. It's up to you two to decide what to chose." Draco and Harry share a look of resentment, before Harry sighs.

"The hand holding." Harry says quietly.

"Do you agree, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asks Draco. He silently nods. "Then it's settled. After breakfast tomorrow, which is a..." She thinks for a moment, holding a finger to her weathered lips. "Sunday."

"Yes, Professor." Draco and I answer in sync.

"Good. Both of you return to your dormitories, and do NOT leave until it is time for breakfast tomorrow." She says, turning away, back into the castle. Harry sighs and follows her retreating form into the stone halls of the castle, making his was miserably up to the Gryffindor common room.

Draco sneers halfheartedly at the ink haired boy's back, before turning on his heal and walking the opposite way of his enemy to the dungeons.

-t.s-

"Are you ACTUALLY going through with this?" Ron asks Harry as they walk in their usual trio down to the Great Hall, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Ginny joining them at random intervals as they walk down the twisting corridors. Harry runs his hand through his disastrous black hair, mind racing.

"I don't have any other choice." He replies to him, shivers traveling up his spine just imaging how cold and gross the Malfoy heir's hand must be.

"He could poison you through your hand or something!" Neville pipes up, and Harry cracks a smile, because it's the only thing breaking through his walls of worry at the current moment.

"Ugh, don't be thick, Neville!" Hermione says.

"I've seen him; he isn't." Seamus whispers in Harry and Ron's ears, who both snort with laughter. Hermione shoots them a dirty look as they reach the first floor, and cross the chamber to the Great Hall.

"Honestly Harry, I think Malfoy wants to get this over with just as much as you do." She says, placing her books on the table in front of her, and grabbing a piece of toast and slathering it with marmalade.

"Maybe you're right..." Harry says, glancing over, discreetly, at the Slytherin table. Draco looks just the same as usual, a cocky grin on his face, perfect teeth flashing in lighting that makes his hair shimmer...

'Woah, what got over you there, Harry?' He asks himself, shaking his head and turning it back to his friends. Of course he looks perfect though; he's a Malfoy.

Meanwhile, Harry himself is looking quite the opposite. The bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever after yet another sleepless night.

He rubs his eyes tiredly after eating a small plate of eggs. He hasn't had much of an appetite of late. Hermione gives him a look, but he shrugs it off, standing up and walking over to Professor McGonagall, who is (conveniently) standing right next to the door, eyes on Harry.

The green eyed teen walks to his fate with his chin up, and it looks as if Draco has the same idea because he is also striding over to the lightly smiling Professor along with him. They meet in the middle, and don't look at each other, assuming that it would just be easier if they ignored the other person.

"Come along." Professor McGonagall says, ushering both boys out under stares and whispers of their classmates.

She leads them to two chairs situated in the middle of the entrance hall, gesturing for them to take a seat, which they both do.

"All you have to do it sit here, holding hands for one hour, no less. Your time starts-" she gives us a pointed look, telling us to get on with the task. Draco and Harry begrudgingly take one-another's hands. "Now."

Harry was prepared for frigid fingers and icy palms, but is instead greeted by warm and soft skin, with long agile fingers. It's a welcomed feeling for the Boy who Lived, who finds it comforting, without, of course, telling this to the blonde. Harry himself now feels very self-conscious of his own hand, which is rough and calloused from fighting, and scarred from the Triwizard Tournament the previous year.

Minutes pass agonizingly slowly.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

People exiting the Great Hall look unto them with laughter, whispering to each other and making bets. He catches snippets of conversation which make the back of his neck blister with heat.

"Is this their coming out or something?"

"I hear it's punishment for snogging each other in the third floor corridor."

"How long do you think they'll keep this up before one of them snaps the other's neck?"

Harry buries his face in his elbow, taking a break from the passing faces and takes in the dark.

He becomes more aware of his other senses now that he isn't looking around. He can hear Draco's uncharacteristically deep breathing, and smell his subtle but still existent cologne. He can also feel the pale hand squeezing his slightly tighter than before, which Harry finds that he likes.

Fourty.

Fifty.

In a sudden act of courage, he changes the placement of their hands so that their fingers are now laced together. Draco's breathing hitches for a moment, before squeezing Harry's hand. Harry runs his fingers up the side of Draco's palm, gently savoring the feeling of the creamy skin that belongs to the Malfoy heir that he was so mad at just the day before.

Harry takes his face out of his arm, finding just a small group of people who proably have money bet on how long they'll last. He brings his eyes to Draco, who's hair has fallen in front of his red face. He turns to face the Potter.

"Fuck you Potter." He whispers, squeezing Harry's hand hard, and running his thumb over Harry's wrist, feeling all the bumps, bones, and... scars?

Draco's eyes widen in shock. Harry doesn't notice Draco's revelation, though, because he's too busy looking at the cuticles of his other hand, before looking up at Draco with an oblivious smile; oblivious to how Draco's hand skims over the EXACT same place, because his mind is focused on something else.

"Sure." He whispers, before pressing his lips to Draco's.

Sixty.

Gasps fly throughout the small crowd, and the click of Colin Creevey's camera is audible to everyone except for the two boys, who are so wrapped up in each other (literally) that they don't even notice.

Their lips mesh together perfectly, disconnecting and re-connecting like clockwork, hands burying themselves in black or blonde hair, gasping breaths heard from both of them as they stand up in the wild and passionate kiss.

"Ahem" a voice says, causing the boys to break apart, breathing heavily and still holding each other.

The crowd mutters, and the clink of coins dropping together into the palms of bet winners is heard clearly in the otherwise silent hall.

Professor McGonnagall is looking at them with a look of mild surprise on her face.

"That is... not what I expected to happen, to say the least..." She says, now smiling lightly. "but it seems you won't be fighting anymore after today." Draco and Harry blush brightly. "Off you go then."

Draco and Harry rush away, still hand in hand, neither believing what just happened. They run to a spare classroom, and lock the door behind them, crazed smiles on faces with swollen lips and bruised cheeks.

"Did we just-"

"Yes."

"I had no idea-"

"Yeah, neither did I..."

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

And then they're kissing again. It's frantic and messy, but ever so passionate. Harry finds himself pushed up against the wall of the classroom, his neck being attacked by the Slytherin. Harry's hands roam Draco's sides, untucking the white dress shirt he chose to wear today.

"Fuck, Draco..." Harry breathes the words, coming undone by the kisses peppered on his neck harshly. Draco smiles against Harry's skin as he travels to the Gryffindor's now exposed collar bone, after unbuttoning the first few snaps of Harry's shirt. He bites down, running his tongue along the mark as Harry moans. His first moan at the hands of another.

"You're so hot, Harry." Draco breathes, before getting pushed back by Harry, who jams him into a table. His bruises from yesterday scream, but he couldn't care less at the moment because of how painfully turned on he is from Harry's dominance.

Harry re-captures the young Malfoy's lips, running his tongue thoughtfully against the taller boy's bottom lip. He pushes it in, exploring the wetness and meeting with Draco's.

His hands find their way again to Draco's hips, playing with the top of his pants, and putting his fingers under the hem of Draco's shirt and touching the fair skin. Draco growls with ecstasy, and pushes Harry away, and pulls him to the ground.

"Don't fuck with me, Harry Potter." Draco says, sitting on Harry's hips, with the other boy's hardness pressing into him. Harry's half lidded eyes widen.

"What?" He asks, his voice husky. Draco takes Harry's wrists and pins them over his head, much the same as he did the previous day. He pushes Harry's sleeves down, revealing several shallow white scars crisscrossing his wrists and forearms. He runs his thumb over them.

"It was a lapse. I only did it once..." Harry says, leaning up and kissing Malfoy again, biting his lip seductively. Draco pulls away, and looks at his flushed face. Harry sighs.

"Okay, maybe more than once. But I'm fine." Harry says. Draco sighs, taking one hand from the Chosen One's wrists and runs it through his silvery blonde locks.

"We will talk about this later, but right now I have something to sort out." He says, leaning over Harry more to press his boner into the boy's stomach.

Soon enough shirts are discarded, and hands are roaming chests and abs made from quidditch. Draco traces Harry's many scars seductively with his finger.

Draco moves his hips to change his position, but shudders from the feeling of Harry's completely erect dick on his ass.

"Fuck-" Draco moans. Harry smirks deviously, and grinds his hips up into Draco.

Now the blonde can't help it. What with the grinding and the sigh of the incredibly hot teen underneath him, his hand involuntarily moves into his pants, and he grips himself, sending a shock of pleasure though him.

"Damn, Draco. Someone likes to get right to it." Harry says deeply, before flipping them over yet again so that HE now sits on top.

"AGH!" Draco screams in pleasure, from Harry grinding in JUST the perfect way. "Fuck Harry-" He pants. "I never would have guessed you would know how to do this." He gasps as Harry moves his hands to Draco's pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them-and his underwear- down in one move, causing an 8 inch to come springing free.

"I don't, really." Harry says, taking it in his hand and pumping it, causing Draco's back to arch, and a sharp moan to escape him. "But Seamus does. And he likes to recount his many stories."

"I'm fucking glad he did."

"Me too." Harry smirks.

-t.s-

"So, Harry..." Hermione and Ron approach him the following day, after noting that he returned back to the dorms at about one in the morning, with his hair more messed up than usual, his shirt buttons in the wrong order, and his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. "Where were you yesterday?" Ron asks, giving him a sideways look.

"Uhh-" Harry says, his face reddening. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Oh Ronald isn't it obvious?" She says, rolling her eyes, gesturing to Harry's partially exposed collar bone, where a bright black and purple hickey stands out against his pale skin.

"HARRY! YOU SHAGGED DRA-" Ron starts to scream. Harry muffles to rest of the statement, but it's too late. All eyes in the common room have turned to them.

"HARRY! HARRY!" Little Colin runs over, a picture in hand.

"What is it, Colin?" Harry asks, exasperated.

"I took a picture of you and that boy yesterday... I thought you might want to see it-" is all he gets out, because Harry's already taken the photo and thanked him.

Sure enough, there they are. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, making out in the great hall. The moving picture makes him remember the moment even more.

Harry smiles, and touches a finger to his lips.

"Harry, I can't believe you. His father is a DEATH EATER. He could be one too, you know!" Hermione huffs, crossing her arms.

"I couldn't care less if he's a Death Eater. Because he would be the only good one." Harry says, walking to the portrait hole. "Are you guys coming to breakfast or not?" Harry asks his best friends, before climbing through the hole and walking, once again to the Great Hall on this Monday morning.

When Harry walks in, all eyes turn to him. Whispers are thrown as he sits down at his usual place beside Ron and Hermione.

"Hey Harry. Are you and Draco dating now?" Ginny Weasley asks him meekly. Harry's face reddens.

"I... Uh... don't really know." Harry says, sheepishly. He takes a swig of pumpkin juice. He looks over at the Slytherin table, where it looks like Draco is having the same problem. A small crowd of people is surrounding him, all probably asking questions.

A sudden surge of bravery comes to him, and Harry stands up.

"Why don't we find out?" He smirks, before walking over to the Slytherin table.

The other houses quiet as he makes the trek across the large room. The group of people surrounding a very harassed looking Draco part, and soon enough Harry is standing directly in front of him.

Before he loses his confidence, he just says the words, and they echo throughout the silent hall. Even the teachers are watching, since Umbridge is away at the ministry today.

"Draco, will you go out with me?" Harry asks, bracing himself for the possible laughter and taunts from his former enemy, but they don't come.

In a flash, Draco has climbed over the table to reach Harry, and presses their lips firmly together.

"Yes." And their lips meet again.

The Great Hall burst with applause and supportive screams.

The boys separate, still holding each other.

So yeah, being the bigger man is hard. But for Harry Potter, for the first time in his Wizarding life, he doesn't have to be. That can be Draco's job too.