Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Harry Potter; all of the characters belong to J.K.R.

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Chapter Two – A Chance Meeting

"Is your goal, by any chance, to wear though the stone floor while simultaneously burning two eye-shaped holes in it?"

Draco raised his eyes briefly to half-heartedly narrow them at his best friend, but in truth, he suspected that Blaise wasn't too far off. About an hour ago, when he had begun pacing, he had learned that if he concentrated hard enough on the stone that made up the floor of his Head Boy's room, the replay of Potter's words would slow somewhat. Meaning, of course, that he heard Potter's voice repeating them only once every minute, as opposed to twice.

"Why are you pacing so much, anyway? You could brood and glower just as easily on your very comfortable bed. Then, perhaps, you might even fall asleep and forget about it."

"I'm not thinking about him," Draco snapped. "I'm simply…exercising."

Blaise gave a short, doubtful laugh before replying, "Then why, when I said 'it', a perfectly ambiguous term, did you automatically know what 'it' was?"

Ignoring Blaise's sensible reasoning, if only because he couldn't think of way to disprove it, Draco returned his attention to the ground. His friend, however, was not discouraged by Draco's mood; he was far too used to it for that.

"Or perhaps," the brunette continued, his voice adopting a slightly mischievous undertone, "you're afraid that if you lay down, you'll lose control over your thoughts and they will end up showing you just what Potter might want…not to mention how much you would enjoy-"

"Blaise, stop," Draco interrupted quietly. His pacing ceased as he raised a slender hand to massage his temples before running it through his blonde hair. Sighing, he raised his head and looked out of the open window and into the clear night and the stars that dotted the velvet sky. Feeling an urge to get out of his room, which suddenly seemed far to small for both him and Blaise, let alone the thoughts that plagued him, he strode to the wall that his own Firebolt was propped up against. "I'm going to fly for a bit."

"Draco, it's nearly midnight," Blaise protested.

"Does it look like I give a fuck?" he snapped in response. "Go find Seamus and have a snog or something. I don't care what you do, but I have to get the hell out of here."

With that, he mounted the broom and flew out the window, leaving his friend staring after him. He felt a pang of guilt at the way he had blown off Blaise, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance at his friend's consistent need to analyze him and the events that had taken place earlier. He'll get over it, Draco thought. It's not as if he thinks politeness is one of my strengths.

He aimlessly guided his broom through the night sky, having no destination; he only wanted momentary peace. His entire brain felt as though it was fuzzy, and he couldn't make sense of what had happened in Hogsmeade, let alone make sense of what he felt about it. Even worse was that whenever he tried to even complete a thought, that voice would float into his mind almost instantaneously.

Other options of payment…benefit very nicely from each other's company…Draco…

It always ended the same way, too, with Potter's voice whispering his name and an unexplainable shiver running through Draco and settling in his stomach. He flew harder, willing the wind to remove his thoughts as it swept past him while he gained speed. He closed his eyes as he became caught up in the moment, in the pure joy of flying. Beginning to feel more reckless, he raised one of his hands from the broom, holding it out beside him so that the night wind ran through his fingers. Flying always made him feel free; during the war, when his father was still alive, it had been the only thing that gave him momentary release from his father's choking anger and expectations that surrounded him like a cloud wherever he went.

He was jolted from his reverie when his right forearm slammed into something hard and his eyes shot open, searching immediately for the obstacle while moving to the left to get away from it. He saw one of the trees that marked the entrance of the Forbidden Forest a short distance to his right and he swore. His instincts made him automatically retract him arm and place it back into position on his broom, but as he gripped the Firebolt, a shooting pain ran up his entire arm, making him gasp. Losing control on the broom, he gave up trying to use the injured arm and concentrated on steadying himself with only one hand to control the broom's movement.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" A vaguely familiar voice penetrated the slight haze of pain that had clouded Draco's mind as a hand reached out and steadied his broom while guiding him down to the ground slowly. When his feet were planted on firm ground, Draco whirled on the other person.

"I don't need-" he began, but his words died before they left his mouth when his eyes met green ones. "Potter, what the fuck are you doing?" he asked angrily.

Those eyes narrowed. "Forget about what I'm doing, what the fuck were you doing? Flying with your eyes closed and one arm off your broom – were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I don't see why you care either way," Draco snapped.

"Neither do I!" Potter shouted suddenly. "I don't see why I care whether or not you decide to go for a dangerous, nearly suicidal midnight flight. I don't see why I cared whether or not you lived or died months ago when I was fighting for my own life along with people who actually gave a fuck about me! I really don't fucking see why either. I do know that when presented with the choice of either being civil or being a prick for no reason, you will always choose the latter."

Potter stood completely still for a moment, anger radiating from his tense form. Draco was still as well, but from astonishment. He raised his stunned eyes to the other's flashing ones. They locked on each other for a moment before Potter turned and began walking away.

A stab of panic broke through Draco's stupor, and he yelled after the retreating form. "What exactly do you want to happen here, Potter? Do you expect me to thank you profusely, express my undying gratitude? Explain to me how anything in our relationship would make that appropriate!"

Turning around, Potter stalked back towards Draco until he stood two feet away from him. "Nothing would!" he shouted. "There is no reason that I should think you would ever thank me for helping you."

"Why did you help me in the first place?" Draco shot back, his own frustration growing. "How am I supposed to react to any of this, Potter?"

"Any of what, Malfoy?" Potter cried. "How hard is it to grasp that I helped you?"

"You didn't fucking help me, Potter!" Draco finally shouted. "You sat down across from me and managed to turn my world upside down in five minutes flat! How am I supposed to react when someone who's hated me for a little more than six years buys me a fucking drink?"

"I haven't hated you for six years, Malfoy," Potter said quietly.

"In my world, you have, Potter. Don't you get it at all? Don't you see how much easier it is for me to believe that you hate me? I can deal with anger and loathing, Potter, but not this. Not…" Trailing off, he gestured helplessly between the two of them, wincing as the movement sent sparks of pain through his arm.

Reaching out suddenly, Potter grabbed Draco's arm just hard enough to stop it from moving. Draco froze as Potter began to gently inspect his wrist. He watched the green eyes assess his injury before Potter said, "I think it's broken, but I can fix it," while taking his wand from his cloak with his free hand. He watched Potter's mouth as the other boy whispered the spell to mend the bones in his wrist. He watched as Potter softly held his wrist, and, feeling an unexpected comfort from Potter's hand on his skin, Draco covered it with own free one, and then he watched the two sets of fingers intertwine. Harry looked up into his silver eyes, which were now pleading as they bore into his own.

"Don't you see how much easier it is for me to pretend I hate you?"

Neither was sure how long they stood that way. What felt like an hour was probably a mere minute, but Draco didn't care about that. The only thing that mattered to him was the sea of green that filled his mind; green that matched the eyes that stared into his own.

Later, Draco would swear that he didn't know how any of it happened. That his mouth, in both its words and actions, had acted of its own volition. One second he was looking directly into Potter's eyes, and the next he could smell Potter's hair as he leaned over. One second, he was shivering as Potter whispered in his ear, "So…are you wearing those silk boxers you bought today?" The next, he was whispering back against his better judgment. "I had to burn those because they came into contact with you." His voice, however, lacked the venom he would have liked it to hold. In fact, it had taken on a rather playful tone in response to the seductiveness of Potter's voice.

"Well, if that's the case," Potter breathed, his mouth moving closer to Draco's skin with each word, "you're going to be burning a lot of underwear in the future."

Draco didn't even know what was happening anymore; he only felt his mouth moving and a breathy voice was saying, "I'm pretty good at Incendio." He vaguely felt his grip on the other's hand tighten as he saw Potter grin in the darkness. For a moment he left his own body and he saw himself standing there, saw him and Potter in the night, staring at each other like there was nothing else there. Only an observer for a moment, he wondered why he wasn't pulling away as Potter's grin faded and his gaze became even more intense while his mouth moved closer; he wondered why his eyes held the same expression that Potter's did.

Then Potter's mouth was on his, and he was back in his own body, feeling everything at once, as opposed to the nothing he had felt seconds before. Warmth spread through his entire body; the heat started at his mouth and ran through him, as if he was feeling it purely because Potter's mouth was attached to his. Potter kissed him gently, very nearly shattering all of Draco's previous experiences of the other boy, making Draco even surer that he was in over his head. It took the full extent of his control, but he somehow managed not to return the kiss; Potter, however, was persistent. When Draco didn't respond, he lifted his mouth and brought it back down trail kisses down Draco's jaw line, ending at the corner of his mouth, before doing the same thing to the other side of his face. His mouth traveled down Draco's neck and back up, making Draco shudder and arch his neck unknowingly.

When Potter's mouth returned to hover centimeters above him own, Draco opened his eyes and started into the others slightly clouded ones. He placed his hands on either side of Potter's face before sighing. "What are you doing, Potter?"

"I don't know," Potter muttered indistinctly before leaning in to kiss Draco once again. Stopping him by placing two fingers over his lips, Draco raised an eyebrow. The moment he did it, Draco knew it was stupid; keeping his control wasn't going to be any easier when he was touching those lips.

"Yes, you do," Draco replied firmly. "Why, all of a sudden, have I become so interesting to you? What ever happened to disliking me because I'm a prat who cares about no one but himself? I would think that the Weasel repeats himself often enough that those words would be engraved into your mind by now."

The angry response Potter shot back at him was slightly muffled, sounding something like, "Don't call Ron that!" However, Draco wasn't interested in what Potter had said. He was far more fascinated by the warmth that had once again traveled through him when Potter's lips had moved against his fingers. He stared at Potter's mouth while the part of his brain that was still functioning screamed. What are you doing? along with the caution, This won't end well. But no matter how hard he tried to make his body obey his brain's practical commands, it wouldn't listen. He watched in half-horror, half-fascination as his thumb moved to trace the outline of Potter's lips, and he felt Potter's sharp intake of breath.

Potter's eyes closed, and Draco marveled at the feeling of Harry's lips. The protests that his mind had been continuously shouting were silenced when those lips pressed a soft kiss to the fingers that lingered on them. Even later, when he looked back on it, he wouldn't understand how one second he was staring at Potter's mouth, and the next he was kissing it fiercely. He wouldn't understand how his hands ended up tangled in the raven hair, nor the comfort he felt as one of Potter's hands cradled his face. This kiss, however, was not gentle as the previous. Potter's other hand gripped the back of Draco's neck, pushing him deeper into the kiss while biting gently on his bottom lip. Gasping, Draco opened his mouth and met Harry's tongue with his own, the two following one another along the contours of Draco's mouth.

Draco broke away, panting, when he looked up and met Potter's gaze, so filled with desire, he knew that if he wasn't careful, he would be lost easily. That he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing Potter's lips again and again, perhaps until he was so breathless that he would faint and not have to think about what he had done.

"Draco? Are you alright?"

Absentmindedly, Draco nodded.

"Really?" Potter said skeptically. "You look rather…confused."

Draco shot him an incredulous look. "What do you expect me to be, Potter? Carefree?"

"No…" the other replied slowly. "But you kissed me-"

"Potter, stop talking." Amazingly, Potter complied, keeping his mouth shut as Draco broke away from him and began pacing. "What are we…this can't be…I can't be…"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Potter snapped, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Draco's arm and pulled the other toward him before kissing him roughly. Breaking away after only a few seconds, Potter glared at him. "You kissed me. I kissed you. We kissed. If you can't accept-"

Draco cut him off by pressing his mouth against his once more. This time, however, Draco let his tongue invade Harry's mouth, and let his hand press into the small of Potter's back, urging him closer. His other hand rested at the nape of Harry's neck, while one of Potter's reclaimed its position at the back of Draco's neck. Draco felt fingers gently massaging his scalp, and he sighed into Harry's mouth.

Draco pulled Potter down, no longer thinking, and they fell to the ground carelessly. As Potter landed sprawled on top of Draco, the blonde felt him grin against his mouth. Harry broke away only enough to whisper, "You're not very good at staying in denial, are you?" in an amused tone.

Smirking, Draco responded, "I could resist more if you're really that disappointed in my failure," while making a move to remove himself from underneath Potter.

Moving quickly, Potter placed a leg on either side of him and leaned over him, successfully pinning him to the ground, while his head hovered above Draco's. "I think that I like you just where you are, thank you."

Draco's hands came forward to grip Harry's forearms while Harry's hand pinned his upper arms to the ground. Two sets of eyes glowed at each other in the darkness, and Draco was just raising his mouth to meet Potter's descending lips when he heard a voice shout in the distance.

"Harry, are you out there?"

"Fuck!" Potter cursed, trying to untangle himself from Draco while simultaneously calling back, "Yes I am, Ron!"

"Where? I can't see you from the window. Hold on, let me come outside-"

"No! I'll be back in a minute."

"Okay…" Ron's voice replied slowly. "I'm going to the common room."

"You look panicked," Draco observed.

"Shhh!" Harry hissed. "And stay down!"

Potter finally managed to stand up and he looked toward the window of the Gryffindor rooms. "Good," he sighed. "He left the window."

"What a relief," Draco said dryly. "Do I have your permission to stand up now?"

As if remembering his presence, Potter turned around. He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he saw Draco's eyes beginning to flash.

"Let me get this straight, Potter. It's perfectly alright for you to hit on me in a public place, but in pitch darkness with Weasley looking out of a window fifty feet away, it suddenly becomes a problem that you're with me?"

"Draco, you don't understand, Ron would-"

"I understand perfectly, Potter," Draco said coldly, letting his eyes turn to ice. "I understand that if you don't stop calling me 'Draco' without my permission, I will hex you severely. I understand that you're perfectly sure of yourself when it's not relevant, when there's no chance that anyone who will judge you harshly for your choices will see. I understand that I was incredibly stupid to think for even a moment that this wasn't a mistake, that it wouldn't be so bad if I gave in."

Stepping forward, Draco let his eyes bore into Potter's confused ones before leaning in and kissing the other with a bruising force. He pushed all of his frustration into his lips, taking control even while Potter managed to match his force. The two kissed desperately for a minute before Draco pulled away.

"Do you think that I want to want to do that? Do you think that this is any easier for me to accept than it is for you? It's not, Potter, it's really fucking not. And I don't appreciate being fucked with, so if that is what's going to happen, tell me now."

Potter stared at him before opening his mouth to speak. Before any words escaped, however, Ron's voice called out again.

"Harry, I thought you were coming in."

What ended up coming out of Potter's mouth instead was a hushed order of, "Get down!" while attempting to pull both of them to the ground.

"No," Draco said flatly. "You're acting like a child, Potter."

Potter's green eyes stared at him pleadingly, and Draco stood still, almost as if he was giving the other one more chance.

"Who's out there with you, Harry? I can see the outline of someone."

"No one, Ron! It's probably just a shadow."

Draco shook his head and began walking away.

"Wait, Draco!"

"Did you just call out for Draco, Harry?"

"No, of course not, Ron. Just go back to the common and I'll be right there!" Potter yelled, frustration lacing his voice.

Turning back to face Potter, Draco spat, "I would really think that The-Boy-Who-Lived would be braver than this."

"Where do you get off saying that, Malfoy? How the fuck do you get off calling me a coward? If I remember correctly, you practically ran from me back in The Three Broomsticks."

"At least when I realized that I was thrown into this rather I liked it or not, I don't think that I have to hide from people."

Potter's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Why do I get the feeling that if it ever came to telling Blaise about this, you would do the same thing I did?"

"Because you're an idiot, Potter. For your information, Blaise already knows that you propositioned me in Hogsmeade, and he was there with me the entire evening while I paced around, unable to get your fucking words out of my head! And he wanted me to go find you and take you up on your not-so-subtle offer, being my friend and knowing me better than I did. And even if he didn't like it, he wouldn't judge me for it because that's what friends do. You shouldn't be worrying about losing Weasley because of pursuing what you want, you should be worried about what kind of friend he would be if he dropped you simply because he didn't care for your choice of company!"

Stalking over to his broom, Draco mounted and flew back towards his window, leaving Potter standing in the grass, staring after him. Harry sunk to the grass and put his head in his hands, sighing deeply, wondering what the fuck he was doing. He found himself laughing out loud, helplessly. If he had thought about his future after the war had ended, he doubted that he would have thought about whether or not Draco was in it, let the fact that he might want Draco in it. He had been dating Ginny, after all. But then, she had broken up with him before the summer had ended, and all he knew now was that ever since he had returned to school, the sight of the blonde had caused him to want to grab him and kiss him, not to mention what he had told Draco about caring if he lived during the war. It confused him to no end, but that didn't keep him from thinking about it, or wanting to do it. The day's events as Hogsmeade were simply a culmination of him suppressing the urge to go over to Draco and be near him, and Ron and Hermione's absence had cracked his resolve not to act on it.

Now, he was sitting on the ground, staring out after Draco Malfoy had stalked away from him after they kissed, upset because Harry hadn't wanted Ron to see them together. It was absurd, really. It always has to be a fight with us, he thought. First, we fight for years because of our dislike for one another, and then we fight because we actually do like each other. What am I supposed to do about this?

"Harry, come on, what the hell are you doing out there?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry got to his feet and mounted his Firebolt, flying toward the window Ron was leaning out of.