Chapter 12
In Which We Learn That While All Actions Have Consequences,
Not All Consequences Are Negative

Morning began much less awkwardly this time, as he wasn't at all surprised to be waking up with Draco spooned behind him. He felt a thrill of arousal when a twitch of Draco's hips slid Draco's anatomy firmly against Harry's opening, silk slipping against silk, transmitting the heat of him straight to Harry's core. He awoke ready, and with Draco's breath against his neck, Draco's hand rubbing circles against his hip, drifting towards his stomach, well... It certainly wasn't helping any.

"Draco?" murmured Harry softly.

"Mmf," came the muffled reply, as Draco buried his face, as well as the rest of his anatomy, further into Harry's back.

"Draco!" said Harry sharply. If he was going to lose his virginity, then he damn well wanted it to be with someone who was awake. He tried to slide forward, but Draco's arms held him close, one hand splayed out over his stomach, the other one snaking beneath his body to wrap around his chest. "Draco, you're shagging me in your sleep."

"Not asleep," said Draco firmly, with a much more suggestive movement of his hips. Harry's heart soared. If Draco was really awake, then that might mean... "Five more minutes," he murmured. Well, bugger.

Another firm poke from behind caught Harry's breath in his throat, and his pyjamas in a much less comfortable place. "Draco!" he yelped.

"Wha?" said Draco, voice bleary. "Give m'arm back," he added after a moment of weak struggling to get himself free.

"Let go of me, and you can have them both back," said Harry testily.

"Hn?" said Draco, moving his hands experimentally, one going up to scratch his own nose over Harry's shoulder, the other slipping down until, "Oh!"

"Yes, oh." Harry pulled away from Draco's now-slack grip, wriggling his hips a bit to pull the silk out from where Draco's anatomy had lodged it. He grabbed his glasses and rolled over, glare fading to nothing as he took in Draco's sleep-ruffled form.

"M'sorry," murmured Draco. His face was an overall embarrassed pink, redder where it had been pressed into Harry's shoulder. His normally impeccable hair was mussed and falling into his eyes, which were opening and closing in long, slow blinks. A quick glance showed a large damp spot on the front of his pyjamas right at the point where they were tented out, which turned Harry's cheeks pink when he realized he had, not one, but two matching ones -- one in the front, and one in the back.

"S'alright, I guess," said Harry, giving him a friendly poke in the shoulder instead of the gentle caress he was craving. "Must've been a nice dream." He reached out and swiped the hair out of Draco's eyes, then drew his hand back slowly, running it through his own hair as if to banish the feel of the heavy, tangled strands.

"Dream?" said Draco, rubbing his eyes and still trying to wake up properly. "Wasn' dreamin'."

Harry turned a bit pinker. "Then you were just trying to shag me in your sleep on what, reflex?"

Draco's eyes went wide, then he looked up at Harry, cheeks flaming. "I was what?"

"Let's just say that if there hadn't been pyjamas in the way, then there would be no more unicorns for me," said Harry, looking away, feeling his own blush deepen as he remembered how good it had felt. He mumbled softly, "I wouldn't've minded so much if you'd done it on purpose."

Draco was still blinking, as if he couldn't quite process the conversation properly. "You mean I was... what exactly DO you mean?"

"When I woke up, you were all snuggled behind me, with your, er..." he gestured towards the offending portion of Draco's anatomy, "trying to climb into my, er, y'know! Bottom!"

There was more blinking, this time rapid. "You're telling me I tried to bugger you in my sleep?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Oh, bloody hell." Draco suddenly didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "I'm sorry, I mean, I never would've..."

Harry sighed. He had been hoping that Draco's actions reflected the same kind of subconscious desire as Harry's reaction, but never was pretty clear. "I know, I know. You were asleep, now let's just forget about it. Because if we look all guilty and whatnot when we go to breakfast, I can guarantee Hermione will give us the third degree on just how close you came to sullying my purity."

Draco's eyes went really wide then, and he said hastily, "Consider it forgotten. Although I am sorry, I mean, I never would've forced..."

Harry held up his hand, glad that he was already about as red as he'd go. "Forgotten, remember? Besides, it's not like I had to fight you off kicking and screaming. You stopped as soon as you woke up."

"Er, yeah. Okay." They both sat there uncomfortably for a minute, until Draco perked up a bit and said, "Any chocolate left?"

Harry laughed. Trust Draco to think of chocolate as the answer to all life's ills. He retrieved the Honeydukes bag from where it had fallen to the floor. They dug in and consumed the last of the chocolates, one last cinnamon fairy each, plus little hazelnut clams that tried to snap at your nose, chocolate hearts with filling that changed flavours depending on your mood, and some perfectly nonmagical raspberry truffles that sent Draco into an entirely different sort of ecstasies.

Chocolate eaten and the delicate balance of their friendship restored, they both got dressed, Harry in his new finery, Draco in a set of typically Malfoy black velvet robes edged with embroidery of green and silver snakes. "You look like the poster child for Slytherin," said Harry, giving Draco's now-neat hair a friendly tug.

"Someone's got to balance you out. You look like you're trying to be Godric Gryffindor in the school play," said Draco, laughing. He pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall, then froze so suddenly that Harry ran into him. "Good morning, Professor Snape."

"Er, yeah. Good morning," said Harry, stepping out of the doorway and straightening his glasses, which had been slightly smashed against Malfoy's back.

"And just what are you doing down in the dungeons this morning, Potter?" said Snape disagreeably.

"Just getting Draco for breakfast, sir," said Harry, glancing over at his companion worriedly. He didn't think there were any specific rules against Draco having another boy in his room overnight, but he certainly didn't want to push it.

"Really. And why was it you felt the need to enter his private room to retrieve him?" Snape's voice was low, dangerous, and it reminded Harry of his earlier threat in regards to any designs Harry might have on Draco's virtue. Harry did his best not to flush.

"He wanted me to try some chocolate he picked up in Honeydukes yesterday," said Harry evenly, heart beginning to race. If Snape had come in and found them curled up in bed together... Harry shuddered to think what he might have done.

Snape hmphed. "I would strongly suggest you two keep your activities both public and diurnal, or else I will have to have further words with you, Potter."

"Er, yes, professor," said Harry.

Draco just looked rather annoyed. "I'm not going to study in the library when I have a perfectly quiet room."

"It's not your studies I'm concerned about," said Snape darkly.

"Are you honestly suggesting that Harry is going to, what, ravish me when I'm not looking?" said Draco, icily arrogant now. "I like to think I can defend what little virtue I have remaining without your assistance."

Snape's eyes went wide at that, and he looked over at Harry. Harry just tried to look innocent and not in the least bit like he had any designs whatsoever on Draco's, er, virtue. "Are you sure you want to have this conversation in front of Potter?"

Draco sniffed, and Harry was vaguely impressed at just how good he was at the whole haughty disdain thing. "What makes you think he doesn't already know?"

Snape glowered. Then he straightened up, familiar sneer in place. "I see. You feel my concern for you is misplaced, but mark my words, when the potion's effects have faded completely, you will find yourself back out in the cold. The Boy Who Lived cares for no one but himself." Snape swooped off in a swirl of black robes and anger.

When Harry turned back to Draco, he was surprised to see him leaning against the wall, eyes to the ceiling. "Er, look... I never meant... I mean, I know that you and he..." Harry stammered.

Draco just waved him silent. "Snape's been like a substitute father to me, ever since I got here. He was the one I came to when I couldn't sleep first year, after... after what my father did. But he's never trusted the power that lives in you, and he hates the way you seem to walk in glory while he, who gave up just as much, is always in shadow."

Harry blinked, another little piece of his world rearranging itself. "I just don't want to be the thing that comes between you," he said softly, laying a hand on Draco's arm.

Draco turned, then grabbed Harry in a quick, fierce hug that was over before he could react. "He'll get over it. And besides, I think you're worth it, and we all know I have impeccable taste."

They ascended to breakfast laughing, leaving their worries behind in the darkness of the dungeons.

---

Despite the looming threat of NEWTs, neither Harry nor Draco had any urge to spend the bright Sunday afternoon studying. They bandied about ideas ranging from more chess to tormenting the third year Hufflepuffs in the library, and finally Harry was struck with a thought. "Let's go flying!"

"But if we enchanted all their quills... what?"

"You've got a great broom, and I've never seen you on it when we weren't playing Quidditch. Let's go flying!" Harry was fairly bouncing on Draco's bed with his enthusiasm.

"Er, all right. Just let me get my broom." He rummaged about in his wardrobe, which Harry was just beginning to realize wasn't nearly big enough on the outside to hold everything that he'd seen Draco pull out of it.

"We'll have to run up to Gryffindor Tower to get mine, but that's fine, I'll want to change into something more suitable anyway." He began shoving his things into his bag rather haphazardly, trusting the clothing to keep anything else from breaking.

"I could wait here," said Draco, pulling his broom out of the mysterious depths triumphantly. "And what's wrong with your clothes?"

Harry looked down at the rich silk and velvet. "Er, nothing I guess... I just like to be more comfortable when I fly."

Draco shrugged. "Then hold on, let me switch, too." He rummaged about more while Harry fidgeted impatiently. Harry barely even took the time to stare as Draco quick-changed into a pair of black leather pants and a close-fitting green sweater. With the low-heeled boots, the outfit was practically conservative, for Draco. There weren't even any cutout bits, which Harry was both relieved and mildly disappointed by.

Harry had a small heart attack when he murmured the password to the Fat Lady and her reply was, "I haven't seen you in awhile, Harry, I was worried you'd left us!"

"I've been studying. Er, for NEWTs. With Malfoy," he'd stuttered out, afraid suddenly that they'd changed the password on him for a joke.

He was relieved when she swung open with a wink, and he only winced at little as she called after them, "So that's what they're calling it nowadays. Studying!"

"Our prodigal returns!" said Seamus sarcastically. "And he's brought a Slytherin?"

Harry waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, you're just jealous."

"Oh, right, Harry, our love is so pure, how could you deny me." His voice was flat, but his eyes were sparkling. A glance at Draco's pink face showed why -- evidently he wasn't quite as immune to the gossip as he maintained.

"You just look too cute with Dean," Harry replied, heading for the stairs. Draco trailed along silently.

When they reached Harry's room, Draco flopped on his bed with a sigh. "I thought it would go much worse. Why aren't they upset?"

"About what? I mean, even if I was shagging you, you haven't done anything truly nasty to any of us since that old bat Umbridge left the school." Harry felt around until he found his oldest pair of jeans, worn so soft they felt almost like a different fabric altogether. He'd bespelled them so that they were no longer too small, and instead fit him like a glove.

Draco was staring at his bedcurtains, seemingly oblivious to Harry's nudity as he stripped and slid into fresh boxers and the jeans. He got his pants half-buttoned before Draco managed to surprise him yet again by saying, "Well, obviously being nasty didn't work on getting your attention. By then you'd learned to mostly ignore me. I had to think of something else, didn't I?"

Harry went and sat beside Draco for a minute, dressing forgotten. "I'm sorry I was so dense," he said softly. Draco gave him a tug, and they ended up side by side on their backs, heads sharing Harry's lone pillow. "Are the Slytherins mad?"

"Well, a few of them, yeah. But Crabbe and Goyle're all right with it, so they'll stand up for us." They lay there quietly for a few moments, Harry oddly aware of the soft caress of Draco's cashmere sweater against his bare skin, of the chill draft in the room that made his nipples peak and beg to be covered by nimble fingers or a hot mouth.

Harry sat up abruptly, before his brain managed to make it difficult to get his trousers buttoned. "Er, us?" said Harry, moving off the bed to hunt around for something to wear. He didn't have the wardrobe choices Draco had, and in the end he settled on an old grey sweatshirt. He was surprised to find Draco standing again, long hands reaching up to take Harry's glasses while he pulled the shirt over his head.

"Us," he said softly, unreadable expression swimming into focus as he replaced them with equal care.

Harry blushed unaccountably and straightened up his shirt, then grabbed his Firebolt from the corner. "Ready?"

Draco glanced uneasily at the doorway. "You're sure we can't just fly out the window, avoid the lions' den?"

Harry laughed and tugged him along, twining his fingers with Draco's. Draco stared down at their hands as they descended the staircase, and even tried to pull his away before they entered the room, but Harry wasn't having it. "Make them wonder, remember?" he whispered in Draco's ear as they reached the common room, lips brushing his cheek as he pulled back.

Draco went pink and silent, as the room erupted in catcalls and whistles. Harry grinned, then burst out laughing when Dean yelled, "Awfully quick on the draw, Malfoy!"

"Harry's just that hot!" retorted Neville of all people.

"Not in that sweatshirt. Honestly, Draco, you're supposed to be a good influence!" was Parvati's rather exasperated comment.

"But those jeans," added Lavender as Harry and Draco were almost to the door. Harry blushed, since it wasn't until he had his back to the room that she'd thought to speak up.

They crawled out of the portrait hole, Harry letting Draco go first, and not only for the view of his leather-clad lower body. The Gryffindors were willing to take Harry's odd choice friends at face value, this time, but obviously not without getting their own back, at least a little. "Sorry," he said rather insincerely as they got out of sight of the portrait hole.

"You are not, but you can make it up to me with some of those chocolate frogs I saw stashed in your trunk," said Draco, an answering grin finally washing the stunned look off his face. Harry produced one from his pocket with a magician's flourish, and Draco laughed. "Know thine enemy, is it?"

"You're not my enemy, Draco," said Harry softly, grabbing his hand again and trekking off towards the door.

"I suppose not," Draco ate the frog in one smooth bite and tossing the wrapper negligently to the floor. At Harry's reproachful look, he shrugged and said, "House elf job security."

Harry rolled his eyes, but let it slide. You could take the boy out of the Manor, but sometimes a Malfoy was still a Malfoy. "Prat," he said good-naturedly as they exited the building.

"Peasant." Draco barely managed a ghost of his old sneer, the laughter in his voice getting in the way.

"And you love me for it," said Harry snidely, marching off towards the Quidditch pitch. Since there was only one match left and neither team was practicing, it was deserted. A soft breeze blew the grass in waves like a green ocean before them.

"Let's fly," he murmured, words drifting away on the wind. He wasn't even sure if Draco heard him, so intent was he on the call of the air. He got his broom ready, straddled it, and glanced over his shoulder to see Draco doing the same. They kicked off as one, no words needed, and began climbing the sky.

For once, it wasn't a battle so much as a ballet, cooperation instead of competition. The air was sweet on his face, the exhilaration making him drunk like strong wine. They flew circles and loops, spirals and long sweeping laps, they flew through the towers of Hogwarts and out over the Forbidden Forest, skimmed the surface of the lake and chased the clouds. They didn't try to talk or do tricks or show off. They just flew.

Harry wasn't sure how long they stayed up there, time seemed to flow differently when you weren't bound by mere gravity. The shadows were longer when they landed, striping the pitch with little previews of night. They rejoined with the earth reluctantly, like children being called home from a great adventure. Harry lit down beside Draco, feet touching seconds and inches apart, nearly colliding on the ground, clumsy as they hadn't been in the air.

Draco turned to him, face full of the same wonder that was thrumming through Harry's blood, eyes wide and sparkling with barely-contained pleasure. They let their brooms fall to the ground unnoticed and stepped, not further away, but closer, until they were breathing the same panting breaths. Draco leaned back and laughed, broken and joyous, and wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders. Harry held his waist, let him press their bodies together, feeling the excitement thrum through them both like electricity through a live wire.

Still, he was completely shocked when Draco leaned back in and kissed him. Their lips were both chapped from the wind, rough against each other, and tongues flicked out, careless of whose flesh they wet. The kiss deepened of its own accord, Draco's hands tangling in Harry's shorn hair while Harry clutched at his downy-soft sweater. Draco tasted like the wind, like chocolate and skin, and smelled like vanilla and jasmine and spice.

He felt like home in Harry's arms, and something filled him with warmth, overflowing his mouth to spill into Draco with an intoxicating sweetness like honeyed mead. Draco gasped, growing hard and ready against him, along with him, and they pressed closer, as though they could merge through sheer willpower. Something fluttered in Harry's chest, familiar and sharp, like a broken-winged bird whose bones had just snapped back into place, whole and healed.

He slid his hands under Draco's sweater, desperate for more contact, fingers finding hidden mystery in the pattern of soft skin and smooth scars. Draco moaned in his mouth, one hand fisting as much of his hair as it could hold, pulling his head back as the other drifted down to his waist. Draco's mouth travelled a wet line down to where the sweater skimmed his collarbones, and he bit down with a frustrated noise.

Harry gasped, then cried, "Draco!" as he sucked a love bite at the place where neck met shoulder, hands scrabbling for purchase against the taut flesh. One meandered around, found a nipple, took hold, and Draco released him in a rush of exhaled breath.

"Harry," he whimpered, falling to his knees, face buried in Harry's stomach, nuzzling even as he spoke. "Harry, what are we doing?"

Harry tangled his hands through Draco's hair, the texture now nearly as familiar as his own. "Whatever you want, Draco," he said softly, gently. "I would never ask anything more than what you freely offered."

"What do I have to offer you?" he asked, voice tight.

Harry closed his eyes, holding Draco close. "Everything."

Draco made a strangled noise in his throat, then pulled away and ran, stumbling. Harry wanted to call his name, chase him, get him back, but his body wouldn't follow, feet bound to the desolate earth. He fell to his knees, put his face in his hands. He'd had everything in his arms, all he'd ever needed, and he'd let it walk away.