Denial Uncut

Rated: R

Draco Malfoy never noticed Harry Potter's cupid pink mouth. He never noticed that Harry had exactly 3 different voices he used depending on his mood. One for when he was uncomfortable with the situation, one for when he was happy, and one for when he was mad. Draco Malfoy never wondered which voice he would use in the bedroom, and he most certainly didn't hope it was voice number three, the authoritarian, the voice mad with repressed emotions. He never noticed how Harry's slightly worn robes clung to contours of his body or that you could read Harry's every emotion from his clear deep eyes.

Pureblood's were perfect in every way. That was rule number 543 in the book, How to be a Good Pureblood. Therefore, by default Draco, a true Malfoy, was most certainly not in denial.

"Potter, your arse smells like roses in the morning!" Draco called out across the Great Hall during breakfast. Draco laughed for a minute before realizing that no one else was laughing. Where did that come from? That wasn't an insult! That statement was an insult to his ability to form insults! Draco sighed. What was wrong with him? He needed caffeine and fast.

Harry stared across the hall at the person who was most definitely not the person he was secretly in denial lusting over. What did he just say? How would Draco (Harry secretly meant Malfoy) know what his arse smelled like in the morning? What did his arse smell like? Harry attempted to lean over (most discreetly of course because it is perfectly acceptable to smell one's own arse as long as no one saw -kind of like the "whiff check" of one's armpits). Harry of course only half succeeded mainly because it is physically impossible to bend in that angle for more than 97 of the people in the world. He straightened himself back up now that people were staring… he wouldn't let them know the great almighty Harry Potter was worried about the way his arse smelt.

Draco looked especially sexy- no- hideous this morning, his blonde hair sexily ruffled in a way that made all the girls sigh and made his heart beat faster. Merlin he wanted to wank at the sight of the cherub Malfoy in the morning. Wait…no he wanted to slap Malfoy and then take him back to his bed and do illicit things (most of which were highly illegal in at least 5 countries) to his body. Harry frowned. There was something fundamentally wrong with that statement…now if he could just figure out what.

"Harry you need to eat something," Hermione said kindly while attempting to read, eat, and glare at Harry as was her usual morning routine.

"I'm not really hungry this morning," Harry replied moodily only slightly affronted at the fact she was treating him like a three year old.

Hermione patted his back soothingly.

"Harry has anyone talked to about the changes that happen to your body at this time?" She whispered. Harry reflexively moved away from her to the farthest end of the bench. Needless to say it was a really long morning.

Harry walked into the Potions classroom looking forward to a lovely class period with Snape, his favorite teacher and his close friend Draco Malfoy. Not. Snape stormed into the room in his usual dramatic manner. Harry rolled his eyes. Slytherins must take drama lessons or something. All of them were bloody drama queens.

"Ten points from Gryffindor Potter for breathing in my presence!"

"What!" cried Harry in disbelief. This was ridiculous how was he supposed to not breathe! It's not like he even thought about breathing, he just did. How did Snape notice him anyway? He was sitting in the back of the class and Snape wasn't facing him. Hmm….maybe it was something they learnt in teacher school.

Hermione patted his arm before he could gather up enough anger/courage to stand up and throw something. Malfoy turned around and silently laughed at him. Mocking him with those full lips with his would-be-handsome face twisted into a sneer. Insufferable prick. Amongst other things Harry's bloody pressure began to rise. The other thing that was rising was considerably more problematic and Harry decided to ignore it. He was a seventeen-year-old boy, staring at the legs of a desk made him hard. Yes, contrary to popular belief, Harry Potter was not getting hard at the sight of Draco Malfoy's sneer in the morning it was most definitely the desk.

"Class, today we will be learning how to make Elixir of Pain…," Snape droned on.

Hermione observed this with a small frown forming on her lips. It was all so illogical. Harry hating Draco with the passion of a thousand horses and Draco constantly provoking Harry. Why? They were all only children, and with the impending war Hermione felt that it was necessary that Harry stop this petty rivalry. Not to mention Harry would stop venting to Ron and she could move forward with Plan XXX, "Seduce Ron!". Without Harry to take up Ron's time they would be able to spend more time together!

With this thought in mind the girl genius began to plot.

After class Harry bolted out of the classroom eager to move onto Care of Magical Creature with the best teacher a boy (or was he a man?) could ever ask for, Hagrid. He most certainly did not bolt out of the room in order to get away from that devilishly charming Malfoy and the sinuously seductive movements of Snape's hips. This could not be true, because Harry did not look at Snape's hips.

Harry power walked down the corridor completely oblivious to the fact Ron was calling for him to slow down.

"Harry, mate, slow down! It's not a bloody marathon- look out for that-POW!" Harry walked into the pretty stone gray wall.

"OW!" Ron ran up to him, but before he could reach him Draco Malfoy (the bane of his existence) walked up to him.

"Your eyes are so beautiful, but why can't you see the bloody wall?" Draco guffawed as he instinctively (of course, it was an instinct for Draco to reach and help the love of his life up) reached down to help Harry up.

"Err…" Harry said. After all, it's not everyday your sworn enemy helps you off the floor. Draco stared at the hand he had used to help Harry up (what was he thinking!...oh wait he wasn't thinking, that was the problem), and bolted.

Later at dinner…

It was official. He, Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was having a bad day. It started off fine enough, he reminisced, but everywhere he went there was MALFOY. First, Malfoy had the nerve to touch him in the hallway. Harry colored at the memory remembering the way certain regions of his body reacted. Then Malfoy had "accidentally" decided to let his Niffler out of the cage right when Harry was passing. Harry sniffed and looked at the remains of his shiny watch.

Ugh…that hot blonde piece of pretty- WHAT! No that insufferable ugly ferret faced-

"Harry the chicken's already dead; there is no need to stab the life out of it!" Hermione chided after watching Harry for several minutes making strange faces and stabbing his chicken.

"Ugh…that idiot Malfoy keeps watching me," Harry whined. Hermione fell silent wondering whether she should lecture Harry or move onto more drastic measures. Decisions, decisions.

Harry continued to stab his chicken with vengeance. He suddenly felt very tired. He got up to go back to the dorms and get some much-needed sleep. At the same time (not that Harry was watching or anything) Draco got up to leave. Hermione watched him leave with a small smile on her face. Perfect. The drug would start taking affect any minute. MWHAHAHA! Where did that come from? Hermione sighed (she was such a genius!) and got up to follow them.

Shortly after disposing of Harry's and Draco's bodies she went up to her room in order to change into something more "comfortable" to talk to Ron. She decided to put on the black lace thong (because she really felt the need to have a constant wedgie), a corset (the doctors are lying when they tell you that you need air to survive), and on top she went with an old faded t-shirt. She didn't want to look like she was PLANNING anything.

She put in 5 inch unnaturally high heels (because they were oh so comfortable) and stumbled down 32 steps.

Ron was sitting facing the fire scribbling intently on his parchment, his red hair glowing… well…. red in the flames.

"Hello Ronald," Hermione purred just like the characters in her mother's romance novels.

"H-h-Hermione…is that you?"

"No, I am your deepest fantasy come to life," Hermione said. Where did that come from? Arg! Damn it! Her alter ego (with really corny pick-up lines) had taken over the rational Hermione.

Ron just gulped. Oh yes…it was an extremely eventful night for them.

The next thing Harry was aware of was a warm body next to him and something that smelled very similar to a mop. What! Where was he? Where was his wand? No, he had a wand- just not the one he needed at the moment. Who was next to him? He prodded the body. Why was he in a bloody broom closet?

"Malfoy?" Malfoy shot up into a sitting position. He had been having the most delicious dream involving a slight boy with mess inky black locks and green eyes (oh how he wished that boy existed). The pretty boy in his dream was smiling and saying something that sounded vaguely like "Draco Malfoy is a sex god". Draco sighed contently. The illicit dream also involved a chair, a desk, and a llama. What the llama was doing, he didn't know, but it all made sense while he was dreaming.

"Potter!"

Wow, Harry thought. Way to state the obvious, and he's at the top of our year…what has the world come to?

Harry groped around the wall trying to find a doorknob; instead he found a small piece of parchment stuck onto the door.

Dear Harry and Malfoy,

After doing hours of research I have come to the conclusion that the only way to improve Harry's life would be for you two to reach an agreement. The door is charmed to open when the both of you have formed a truce.Before you start complaining, the only other option that had a higher success rate than this was chaining you both to a bed and having a dominatrix deal with you.

Love,

Hermione

Harry stared at the note in disbelief. This could not be happening. No, seriously this was all a bad dream. Any moment now he would wake up with a raging hard-on (as he often did but not because of Malfoy).

"What's that?" came Draco's husky, sexy morning voice-no- his horribly throaty-no!- weird sounding voice from behind him. When did he start referring to Malfoy as Draco? Stupid Voldemort. This was somehow his fault, since everything wrong that happened in Harry's life was always Voldemort's fault.

Before he could reply Draco got up and leaned over his shoulder. The next thing the boys were aware of was that they were kissing. Not just a peck on the cheek or an accidental brush on the lips. No, this was snogging. Harry moaned as Draco ran his tongue along the edge of his lips outlining them is wet, hot saliva (wait! This was Malfoy!)

"Grr…ehh….oh…that felt…OH…Get of me Malfoy!" Harry screamed and pushed Draco away from him.

Draco flushed angrily. How dare that imbecile Potter kiss him and have the nerve to accuse HIM of kissing him? The cheek of it! That was why purebloods were superior to half bloods. According to chapter 45 section 14 of How to be a Good Pureblood, half bloods were bad kissers. But Harry wasn't a half-blood because that kiss was-

"Malfoy how dare you kiss me!"

"Me kiss you! Obviously you were the one who leaned in 60, I leaned in 40 and therefore according to How to be a Good Pureblood you kissed me!" Draco silently praised himself for being able to speak let alone say such a witty comeback.

"And besides Potter, you didn't even do it right," Draco continued.

"What!"

Draco clucked his tongue. Tongues were overrated Harry decided. It didn't matter that Draco's was perfectly pink or that it apparently knew the exact amount of pressure to exert so that a kiss felt good. Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was not in denial.

"I'll show you good Malfoy!" Harry lunged attacking that pretty pink mouth and perfect tongue.

Malfoy was slowly sinking into a euphoric state that included: him and Harry. He pulled away when he realized that he hadn't taken a breath in at least 5 minutes. He panted for a bit trying to get his breath back.

"That was pathetic," Draco said breathily, not at all hoping that Harry would kiss him again. Harry did. Maybe being in denial wasn't so bad. Draco took the opportunity to slip his hands under Harry's shirt and feel the wiry muscle rippling under his hands. Harry moaned and starting mumbling. This was interesting apparently Harry had an entirely new voice for the bedroom, and he was the only one in the whole school privileged enough to hear it.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Harry and Draco sprung apart. Apparently the closet door had opened and a small crowd had gathered around them.

"Ahh…Professor McGonagall, I can explain. You see Draco, I mean Malfoy and I were having an extremely heated argument-" Harry meekly tried to explain whilst untangling himself from the various props that has fallen on them.

"No we weren't! We were attempting to open the door-", Draco began cutting Harry off.

"I don't want to hear it, detention both of you! McGonagall shrieked.

"Detention!" Harry cried in disbelief! Draco sighed. Stupid Potter. This was his entire fault. Again.

"We weren't doing anything wrong!" Draco stared at Harry. Poor naive Harry was going to get it (not that he cared or anything…though he secretly did wonder how naive Harry was)

"Mr. Potter, are you aware that you are saying snogging in a closet is acceptable!"

"We weren't kissing, he stole my everlasting bubble-gum and I was merely trying to get it back," Harry explained (with a perfectly straight face no less). Draco stared at Potter.

Not bad, he'd have made a good Slytherin if he weren't so righteous.

They would have to work on that later.