Hogwarts was a sea of colour, which was unusual, as its students were normally robed in black. But it was a special occasion: the Yule Ball.

Harry Potter stood nowhere in particular, Ron Weasley on his left (in a very frayed set of maroon dress robes) and Parvati Patil on his left, in shocking pink.

Harry's green eyes scanned the crowd as if in search of someone. Yes, Parvati was his dance partner, but she was a friend. And, besides, she was far too giggly.

No, he was NOT looking for Cho Chang. If she had accepted Diggory's offer, then she obviously had an odd taste in boys.

Grimacing to him, he turned in time to see the doors leading from the dungeon open, and a group of Slytherins emerge.

Leading them was Draco Malfoy. Harry had to admit, Draco did look good in those robes of black…black…black what? The raven-haired boy could not place the material, which was somehow silky, and somehow…not.

The blonde turned and met his eyes. Grey eyes gazed into emerald ones. The Gryffindor seemed captivated by the pureblood's beautiful eyes. Those two grey windows that seemed to soak up all colour surrounding him.

Suddenly, the Slytherin did something so totally unexpected, so inexplicable, so unlike him, that Harry actually took a step backwards in shock.

He smiled.

Not a smirk, not a scowl, but a real genuine smile. Draco Malfoy was smiling at his arch-nemesis.

And, damn, he looked good.

Harry offered a small smile in return and was pleased to see that Draco didn't turn away in disgust.

The moment was shattered by the fact that pug-faced Pansy Parkinson chose that second to take Draco's arm, and inevitably, his attention. Harry saw the Malfoy's annoyed expression before they disappeared into the crowd.

"Champions, here please!"

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Harry sat at one of the tables littering the Great Hall, which took place of the usual four tables, sipping Butterbeer with Ron. Parvati and Padma had long gone; the two sisters deciding their time better off with Beauxabatons boys. Harry didn't blame them.

Someone cleared his throat.

Harry looked up and was somehow pleased to see Draco there.

Ron, however, had his say about it.

"Shove off, Malfoy."

Draco ignored him, his grey eyes boring into Harry.

"What do you want, M-Draco?" asked Harry, deciding that the use of surnames was too childish.

"May I have this dance?"

Ron's jaw dropped.

Harry stared at Draco. Perhaps it was his wistful innocence in saying those five words. Perhaps Harry had had too much Butterbeer to drink, and was hallucinating the whole thing. Or, perhaps it was just that Draco looked hot in those robes. The raven-haired boy stood up.

"Sure." Smiled.

Ron's jaw, if possible, sunk lower.

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The Weird Sisters started on a new song after the applause ended. Harry dimly registered that the song was very much similar to a Muggle slow dance, whatever they were called.

Without hesitation, Draco took Harry's hand in his own. Harry placed his other hand on the Slytherin's shoulder, suddenly very aware of Draco's arm around his waist.

"I must say, Potter, you look quite fetching in green," Draco said conversationally as they revolved on the spot amidst other dancers.

Harry blushed. He didn't understand how Draco Malfoy was making him feel this way. So wanton. So lustful. He was yearning to do…things to Draco, for reasons that were unclear to him. And the thing was, he had been longing to do so for some time now. No one knew (except a certain bushy-haired Muggle born).

To ease the tension, Harry asked, "Why'd you ask me to dance?"

" 'Cause I wanted to." An unspoken 'duh' hung in the air.

"But why? I mean, Pansy…?"

Draco made a face. Harry frowned. "But aren't you-?"

"No!" Draco said, a little too loud. Lowering his voice, he said, "She's just a…friend…I couldn't come out here looking like a total idiot without a dance partner, now could I? I mean, you came with Patil for crying out loud."

Harry almost laughed, and instead let go of Draco's hand. The Slytherin stiffened, and then relaxed as Harry draped his arms around Draco's neck. The last Potter felt the younger Malfoy's arms encircle his waist.

They were so close they could feel each other's breath. One of them miscalculated his footing, bringing them nearer than ever. They were no longer moving, both itching to fill the hunger that was slowly consuming them.

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"They're drunk, I know it," said Ron disbelievingly, from where he sat with an equally appalled Pansy Parkinson.

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"Herm-own-ninny, is that not Potter?" Krum asked.

The Muggle born turned to where the Bulgarian Seeker pointer. And smiled knowingly.

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Not fully aware of what he was doing, Harry closed the gap between the two and pressed their lips together.

At first, contact was soft and hesitant, as both were unsure of what to do. Then instinct kicked in.

They pressed their bodies closer as their tongues fenced together. Harry ran his fingers through Draco's immaculate blond hair and moaned as the Slytherin's tongue explored every nook and cranny of his mouth. Harry couldn't help thinking that all those rumours about Draco being a kissing god weren't just rumours, as his spine exploded as Draco's hands found their way up and down his back.

They broke away at the sound of clapping. As one, they turned and saw that Dumbledore was the source of the noise, the Headmaster's blue eyes twinkling. Along the table, Percy Weasley had his mouth open so wide Harry could have counted his teeth from where he stood. Harry had no doubt that the third eldest Weasley would send an owl to his mother concerning the night's events. Most of the students and teachers followed in the Headmaster's lead.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable at being the centre of attention (again). He felt Draco pulling at his hand.

"Let's get outta here," the Slytherin murmured.

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The grounds were strangely peaceful as Harry and Draco sat in the cover of the rose bushes that littered the place.

"Draco?"

The said Slytherin looked up from his position on Harry's lap. "Yes, Boy Wonder?"

Harry laughed. "What material are your robes made of?"

Draco looked surprised as he answered, "Velvet."

Black velvet. "Hmm…," said Harry, running a hand along the material in question, and effectively, along Draco's chest.

The blonde smiled, his mercury-like eyes twinkling. "Like it?"

"I'd like it more if you took it off."

"That could be arranged."

Anyone who happened to be looking in that direction would have sworn that a whole bushful of fairies took flight as their bush was invaded.

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EXAMS ARE OVER!

Anyway. This idea, surprisingly, came to me during my English trials. I was in the process of writing it when a particularly nosy teacher came snooping. Ah well.

Press the inviting purple button, my sweets!