Just a little one-shot I made of boredom (and my slight obsession over Draco and Harry). Hope you like. ;)

Full Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have a rather...er... enlightening conversation over a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. Rated T for mild innuendo and passion-filled snogging! Ha ha.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Miss Rowling. I have just twisted their personalities into demented, crazy little things.

Draco's hand was poised hesitantly above the seal of the small bag, his smoky grey eyes narrowed, lip curled haughtily with suspicion. A few free wisps of white-blond hair curled close to his temples, and he used his free hand to brush them back impatiently.

Silence ticked on slowly in the Malfoy manor sitting room, puncuated only by Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's even breathing, and the steady, rhythmic tick of Harry's blunt fingernails drumming against the slick surface of the polished oak coffee table.

Said wizard was watching Draco with obvious amusement burning deep in narrowed emerald eyes. He was leaned forward in his squishy chintz armchair, elbows on his knees, one hand cupping his innocently-cocked jaw, the other fingers working steadily faster against the tabletop. His hair was a ruffled mess, as usual, sticking up haphazardly on the back of his head and around his ears, framing the angular lines of a strong jaw and pale cheekbones. A pair of unusally jewel-like green eyes stared Draco down, crinkled slightly at the corners by the superior smile that played over the boy's pale lips.

There was an audible sigh, and then Draco withdrew his hand from its hesitant position above the transparent bag labeled Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans! to flop back in his own armchair, arms crossed defiantly over his slender chest.

Harry allowed a short burst of laughter to issue from his mouth at the pout that curled Draco's thin mouth.

"You're such a baby," he pointed out on another peal of sniggers. He sat straight up in his chair, hands now clasped beneath his chin, lips pulled out in a childish pout, eyes innocently wide, "Oh, Hawwy, why-oh-why do I have to eat one of these howwible beans? I'm so scawed! Wah!" He came out of his mocking imitation with his face flushed red from the new bout of laughter echoing wildly around the sitting room.

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Then he turned away from Harry's smiling gaze to watch the flames flickering ominously among the tendrils of black smoke pluming their way up the brick chimney. His eyes were narrowed with malice. "I don't understand why you're so persistent on the matter," he stated lowly. "They're just a stupid bag of candied beans that taste like vomit and dragon heart. Which I will not eat!" he added hotly.

"But that's the fun of it!" Harry cried matter-of-factly. "You never know what flavor you're going to get! When we were younger, Dumbledore mistook an earwax-flavored one for toffee! Gulped it down in one go, then just laughed it off!" He paused to nervously re-adjust the collar of his thin black sweatshirt. "Well- after choking for a few seconds...." With a new bright grin that he persistently turned on Draco, he tried to continue on the subject, "Just try one little bean and see if you li-"

"Oh, come off it!" Draco snapped back. "I will not submit to eating something that could taste like candy, but will more than likely end up tasting like earwax!"

Harry sighed and unclasped his hands to massage his temples in an annoyed fashion. "Sometimes you're such a pansy," he muttered under his breath, although he was internally kicking himself for allowing that last detail on Albus Dumbledore's bean mishap to slip into the conversation.

Draco didn't reply. Harry eventually fell equally silent.

When nearly fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence had passed between the pair, Harry resorted to shifting irritably in his chair, hands splayed now on his flat stomach as his eyes stared dreamily out the high, circular, open window in a very Luna-like fashion.

"You know," he muttered finally, peeking at Draco out the corner of his eye; he felt a pang of triumph when he discovered a pair of forcibly curious grey eyes focused on him, "I don't know why they call them 'Every Flavor' beans anyway."

One pale, thin eyebrow arched gracefully upward. "What do you mean?" Draco questioned quietly, although Harry detected a hint of wary suspicion residing under his soft British lilt.

Harry had to force away the grin that was threatening to slide across his face; he instead turned a pair of wide, dreamy green eyes over to the slender blond man, his mouth forced into a tiny, confused frown. "They say every flavor, but I can think of one flavor they quite stupidly forgot." He allowed himself an indulgent smile. "Which sucks, because I think it's the best damned flavor ever."

Draco's thin lips pursed; he remained curiously silent, but his lack of speech only goaded Harry on.

"It's an important flavor, and I think if they can manage to steal the scales or the heart of a raging dragon, they could manage to obtain this wondrous delicacy."

"What the ruddy hell are you talking about, Potter?" Draco hissed impatiently, all traces of polite curiousity abruptly vanished.

Even the use of Harry's last name - which had been dropped nearly three years ago - didn't stop Harry from continuing on with a serene smile and a kind of mischevious wistfulness floating mistily in his bespectacled emerald eyes. "Surely you know what I mean by now, Malfoy?" he retorted calmly.

Draco was reminded forcefully of the old Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, as Harry lowered his head slightly and peered at him over the rims of his round spectacles, green irises nearly concealed under the heavy fringe of Harry's long, dark lashes, thin fingers bowed beneath his chin to create a steeple of sorts. His expression was wistfully expectant.

"Obviously not," Draco muttered dangerously. His patience was quickly becoming worn by the annoyingly calm expression on his boyfriend's scarred face.

A low, amused chuckle issued from the back of Harry's throat; the soft, husky sound of it nearly sent Draco's resolve shattering into a million pieces atop the complex patterns of his expensive Chinese rug. But he held his calm and simply continued to turn an incredulous glare upon the smirking wizard.

"Well," Harry mused quietly; he turned his eyes out to the sun-lit landscape spread out on the other side of the open window, "You're just a tad slower than I thought you to be."

Draco's façade did crack at that; he leapt from his armchair with a loud noise of disbelief and stalked forward until the fronts of his knees nearly touched Harry's.

Leaning in close, he leveled his eyes with the shorter boy's and, curling his lip back in a ghost of his childhood sneer, he hissed against that tauntingly smirking mouth, "What the hell are you talking about, you bloody dolt! I'm sick of you acting all superior and wise and too good for my presence! Might I remind you that my father was one of the most powerful and feared wizards of his time! You have no reason to act superior to me, you ruddy imbecile!"

Huffing, he straightened a little so that he could release the kink that had developed in his spine during his rant. He crossed his arms once more in a defiant gesture over his silk-clad chest. Then, with an expression of the utmost disgust, he met a pair of highly amused emerald eyes and spat, "Now what is this bloody flavor you're raving on about?"

There was a moment of long, sluggish silence. And then, his face stretched into one of the most seductive grins Draco had ever seen on it, Harry leaned casually forward and purred, "You."

Draco had only a few seconds to allow the answer to settle in. But before he could retort or roll his eyes or something of the sort, a pair of warm, familiar lips was against his own.

Even if the two had been together for nearly three years, it still came as a shock when that intoxicating mouth met with his own and they melded together and clung passionately; Draco's head still blurred into an indecipherable whirlwind of broken thoughts and blinding colors.

His hand instictively slid up the back of Harry's neck, into the nest of disheveled raven hair atop Harry's head, pulling the shorter boy up slightly to prevent his body from folding completely in two to reach him.

Harry's own scarred, feminine hands found their their way to Draco's waist. His pale fingers curled around the blond's silk-clad hips; and he tugged. Draco was sent from bending uncomfortably over Harry's knees to reach his mouth, to sprawled across the shorter boy's lap, their lips still desperately attached.

Draco couldn't hold back a small noise of appreciation that had been building in the back of his throat. Harry smirked against his mouth; Draco almost felt the wizard's head swell with pride.

He cut off any retort Harry might have made by pulling away just long enough to suck in a greedy gulp of air, then diving back down to reattach his mouth hungrily to Harry's, his pale lips moving in perfect synchronization against the ones currently smirking at the blond's greedy behavior.

But it was Harry's turn to bite back a moan when one of Draco's lithe hands made their way slowly down his chest, past his own silk-covered pectorials and down to the easily-decipherable notches of Harry's ribs. The blond wizard knew for a fact that Harry's ribs were one of the most sensitive spots on his body. It didn't help the matter when Draco began slowly twirling his fingers, so that the cool silk of Harry's robes swished delicately against the hidden skin.

The shorter wizard shuddered and tried hard not to arch toward the moving hand; Draco was way too talented for his own good.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of being molded together, their lips desperately clinging, hands roaming, Draco forced himself away for much-needed air.

Harry greedily gulped down his own clean-smelling oxygen, lungs burning inside his chest from the lack of it - although his lips were burning for an entirely different reason than the need to breathe.

Once Draco had calmed down enough to rest his perspiring forehead lightly against Harry's, he smiled and exhaled a gentle, minty breath against the dark-haired man's flushed face. Harry grinned shakily back. His ribs were still tingling with the sensation of being stroked by the fine, cool silk; his hands still longed to be tangled in those sexily disheveled blond locks; but worst of all, his lips yearned to be attached anywhere on Draco's body they could reach.

Touching his pale tongue to his swollen bottom lip, Harry allowed his eyes to slide closed and his breathing to even out against Draco's face. After a moment of simply breathing in each other's presence, their mouths slightly open, eyes closed, fingers linked together at their sides, Harry's lids slid back open and he allowed a superior grin to slide slowly across his face, crinkling the skin at the corners of his emerald eyes and lighting a fire inside their cool green depths.

"Yep," he sighed contentedly; he lifted Draco's hand to kiss the backs of each knuckle, "Best damned flavor ever."