Chapter 5
In Which We Learn That There Are Things More Potent Than Wine

Harry was staring down at his trunk, trying to remember what friends did on an outing. He felt like his own brain was working against him, giving him images of Draco laid out against the blanket he'd managed to scrounge up, skin washed moon-pale against a woollen midnight blue sky. He shook his head, trying to push through the curtains of lust that kept falling over his vision, trying to reach for his past. He got a flicker of the three Gryffindors doing homework under a tree, of he and Ron in the common room playing wizard's chess, trading chocolate frog cards over dinner.

He dug through his things, brushing past the deck of Exploding Snap to find the tiny portable wizard's chess set that Ron had found for him last Christmas. He dusted it off, wishing for a box of chocolate frogs, and headed down to the dungeons to beg something off the house elves. Half an hour later he was headed out over the sun-thawed grounds, looking for the exact spot they'd been standing. When he figured he was there, laid out the blanket, then delved into the picnic basket the elves had pressed upon him.

He pulled out heavy pewter mugs and a spelled container of hot cocoa that would stay filled and warm as long as they wanted it. An extra-large bag of marshmallows was next; they'd been tossed in with the conspiratorial whisper that Master Draco liked them very much, followed by a box of chocolate frogs they'd managed to produce for Harry. Then the coup de grace, a small spice cake powdered with sugar and still warm from the oven, something Dobby assured him that Draco used to love as a child.

A shadow fell over the blanket, and Draco drawled, "If you're trying to convince me you don't want my body, a romantic picnic isn't the way."

Harry laughed. "I didn't really think chess and cocoa was romantic, Draco." He looked down at the cake gently steaming in the afternoon sun, then added quietly, "I guess I'm just out of practice at being friends."

Draco lounged on the blanket with the grace of a cat, distressingly close to where Harry knelt by the basket. "I'm sure we'll muddle through," he said with surprising gentleness. Harry could feel the warmth of his body even through the layers, inviting him closer, asking to be snuggled up against and basked in.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then fished his chess set and some utensils out, and turned so he was sitting as far away from Draco as possible. "I brought chess, and chocolate frogs. You don't seem the Exploding Snap type." He shrugged.

Draco was staring, not at him, but at the food. "Where did you get that cake?" he asked, his voice sounding small and distant.

"Dobby said you liked them as a child," Harry replied softly. "I hope that's all right." He cut two generous wedges, then handed one to Draco on a small pewter plate with the Hogwarts crest. There was even a matching fork.

"I haven't had this since I was six," he said quietly, voice filled with wonder. "The elves stopped making them, because my father disliked the smell. He felt it permeated the house and made it seem common."

Harry had no idea how to soothe the bitterness from Draco's tone, so instead he poured the cocoa, dropping a handful of miniature marshmallows into his own before tossing Draco the bag. "The house elves really seem to like you."

Draco's head snapped up, and he picked up the bag awkwardly, spilling marshmallows over the blue blanket like a scattering of fluffy stars. Harry laughed, and Draco threw one at him petulantly. "I am very graceful," he said indignantly, as though it explained everything.

Harry popped the offending treat into his mouth, then scooped a few more off the blanket and chucked them in Draco's direction. Draco's mouth dropped open, and Harry grabbed one more and aimed for it. Draco seemed to realize at the last moment what Harry was doing, and he moved with a Seeker's reflexes to catch the morsel in his mouth. Harry sipped at his cocoa, thick and sweet on his tongue, and smiled. He thought that perhaps this was a Draco he could have been friends with ages ago.

He took another sip, remembering back to his first year and the start of their enmity. He'd rejected Draco's initial offer of friendship, and could only be grateful that Draco was more mature now than either of them had been back then. "What are you smiling at?" Draco asked, suspicion crowding the laughter out of his voice.

"Remembering the first time we tried this," he said, gesturing from himself to Draco and back. "I'm happy we've both grown up since then."

Draco raised an eyebrow, then grabbed his fork and dug into his cake without another word. Harry took a bite of his own, enjoying the subtle blend of spices as it melted across his tongue. "This is pretty good stuff," he commented around a second mouthful.

"I wonder who they made it for?" said Draco, polishing his off and rolling over to look at the sky. They sat like that in silence, Harry nibbling and sipping while Draco stared at the clouds chasing one another across the chill blue expanse. When he was done, Harry snagged the box and tossed Draco a chocolate frog.

"It's kind of intoxicating," said Draco, breaking the silence as he unwrapped the frog.

"What is?"

"Knowing that, no matter what I do from now on, at least one person will love me. It feels like too much wine," Draco rolled on his side, propping his head on his elbow and gazing at Harry contemplatively.

Harry laughed. "As Sirius used to say, you're not drunk if you can lie on the ground without holding on." He was mesmerized by the way Draco ate his frog. He held its wriggling body securely and nibbled on the twitching toes, getting little chocolate footprints all around his mouth before popping the remainder abruptly into his mouth.

"I don't have anything to hold onto," he said softly.

Harry almost didn't hear him, intent as he was on the pink tongue flickering out to get the last morsels of candy. There was a smear of it on his cheek from a particularly enthusiastic kick, and Harry had the sudden urge to lick it off. Instead, he grabbed one of the green Slytherin-crested napkins out of the Christmassy-looking pile, then leaned over and into Draco's space. "You've got me," he said, wiping gently until all that was left was a faint red mark from the rough linen.

He could feel the seconds stretching out as he hovered there, hand inches from those moist lips. He wanted to run his fingers over them and see if they were as soft as they looked, kiss him deeply enough to drink his breath from his mouth. He inhaled in a world smelling of spice and chocolate, wind and vanilla and what he thought might be jasmine. He felt himself starting to lean in, napkin falling as bare fingertips brushed the curve of Draco's cheek.

Draco blinked, and the moment was broken. Harry sat back heavily, letting out his breath in a long, frustrated sigh. Draco smirked and said, "I knew you'd find me irresistible, Potter."

Harry flushed and snapped, "I seem to be doing all right resisting you so far, Draco."

There was a flash of hurt behind Draco's eyes, and Harry immediately regretted his defensiveness. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just really not used to this... I mean, I haven't fancied anyone since Cho Chang, and I certainly wasn't expecting..." He broke off as he saw Draco's eyes go wide, realizing what he'd said. "Er, I mean..."

"You fancy me?" Draco interrupted.

Harry nodded helplessly, wishing he could sink through the ground.

"So, all this," his extravagant gesture took in the forest, the picnic, and himself, "was just to get into my pants?"

Harry shook his head fiercely. "No!" He pulled even further back into himself, wrapping his arms around his shins and resting his cheek on his knees. "I wouldn't... I mean... oh, hell, Draco, I don't know what you want from me, but this was all I could think of." He closed his eyes for a moment, then continued, "I would never do anything to you that you didn't want." He took a breath, then added in a rueful murmur, "And probably expressly spell out."

He opened his eyes to find that Draco had rolled back over, splaying himself out like a feast set before a starving man. Harry knew he was displaying himself on purpose, but couldn't fathom why. Draco ran a hand over his chest, a gesture that seemed sexy despite the wool coat and scarf. He twitched his hips, sliding the hand further down to his stomach. His coat was tight across the top, but flared at the waist to show his legs inside a V of black wool.

Harry looked away as the hand trailed lower, unwilling to torment either of them. "Stop it, Draco," he said, cheeks pink. He felt heavy, weighted by unwanted desire, his blood pooling like hot lava at his centre.

"Why, Potter, you said you fancied me. Or am I not good enough for the Boy Who Lived?" Harry's gaze flickered to Draco despite his best efforts, saw where Draco's hand was caressing the inside of his thigh, knee propped up to frame his black-clothed groin.

"You deserve better than me," said Harry, thinking back to the confession he'd overheard. Draco needed someone who would gently draw him out, not some hormone-ridden virgin drowning in a sea of his own misplaced guilt.

Something in his face must have seemed sincere, because Draco closed his legs, crossing them at the ankles. One white hand still rested on his thigh, as though he wasn't quite ready to call it quits. "You really just want to be my friend."

It sounded more like a statement that a question, but Harry answered it anyway, desperate to change the subject. "Of course, you daft git. Isn't that what I've been saying all along?" He grabbed a handful of marshmallows and flung them at Malfoy's face with slightly more force than was absolutely required.

Draco obliged him by laughing as he hunted them all down, popping them into that pink mouth and devouring them one by one. "All right, all right. You said you brought chess?"

Harry gave him a sidelong look. "You're not going to fight about it anymore?"

"What, and waste perfectly good marshmallows?" His face was totally deadpan for a few heartbeats, but he cracked up again when Harry did.

Once the laughter died down, Harry pulled out the miniscule wizard's chess set with a slightly embarrassed shrug. "It's the only one I've got," he said by way of explanation, as he took the two tiny kings and juggled them behind his back.

"Better than nothing. Look, put the rest of the stuff away, and we can lay down with it between us. Draco patted the blanket right in front of him, then added, "Left."

It took Harry a second to realize what Draco meant, distracted as he was by the thought of playing chess a mere foot away from Draco's invitingly prone form. "Oh, er, right." He held out his left hand, revealing the black king.

"Typical," said Draco, shrugging.

He set up the board while Harry cleared the blanket, stowing everything but the cocoa in the basket. Harry mirrored Draco's posture, lying on his side and propping himself up on one elbow. He was grateful for the concealment offered by his thick, loose winter clothes, because it was all he could do not to climb on top of Draco and ravish him, let alone keep his body under control. He had a feeling he was about to get his ass handed to him on a green-enamelled silver platter.

After awhile, though, he managed to forget the persistent ache between his legs and just concentrate on putting up a slightly less-than-pathetic showing. He was taking longer and longer to make his moves as the game wore on, and the towers of Hogwarts grew long shadows as they played. "We're going to be here all night if you don't hurry up," said Draco at one point, and Harry blinked to find that he'd been reduced to three tiny white heroes in the midst of an army of blackness.

He reached out and tipped over the king, who did an Oscar-worthy performance as he went down, tiny voice drifting on the now-gentle breeze. "Next time, I'm getting a handicap," said Harry grumpily as he packed the set away. "It's totally unfair that you're not only quite a bit better than me at chess, but completely distracting to play with."

Draco's eyes went wide, and his fingers strayed to the exact spot that Harry imagined hid one of his nipples. Harry's breath caught, and Draco laughed. "You are well and truly smitten, Potter. I can't help but feel flattered, even if it is the potion."

Harry's cheeks pinked. "I, er... Hermione found me a book about it, and the thing is... Snape's right. If I didn't already want you, the potion would have made me feel... brotherly."

Draco's eyebrow went up. "Well, that is an interesting bit of trivia." He gave Harry a searching look. "Why all the honesty today, Potter?"

Harry dropped his eyes, and shook his head. He wasn't ready for Draco to know what he knew, but he didn't want to lie, either. Draco put a hand up in surrender and said, "All right, I'll let it rest for now." He rolled onto his back again, striking that same 'take me' pose as before. "But you're going to have to make it up to me by letting me play dress-up." He gave Harry a sidelong glance, obviously gauging the effect he was having.

Harry grinned through the red wash of lust, then took a swig of cocoa before saying, "Fine, fine. But no one sees me except the two of us." Draco looked as though he might object, but Harry said, "It's no use, I know you've got a private room so you can't even pretend that it's unavoidable." Draco, as a seventh-year prefect, got his own tiny bedroom apart from the other students. Harry sometimes thought that it was only Lucius' downfall that had kept Draco from being Head Boy instead of Ron.

"Fine, fine. Tonight after dinner?"

Harry stood up and squinted at the sky. "If we even make dinner."

Draco looked thoughtful, then cocked his head. "I don't suppose your little house-elf friends would make us up a tray?" The arrogance was back in his tone, singing through every line of his body, and Harry wondered what he'd done to put it there.

Harry glanced up at the castle. "Sure, what the fuck. Let's go add to the bloody gossip. You go get your room ready, and I'll drop off the basket and bring up the tray."

Draco stood, and Harry was forced to admire the utter effortlessness he imbued in his every move. Harry packed the last few things away in the basket, shook out the blanket and gave an awkward, ironic little bow, saying, "Shall we?"

Draco grinned evilly, then stalked over in two steps and took possession of the blanket. He curled his fingers into the crook of Harry's arm, for all the world like a girl on a date. "Let's give them something to think about besides You-Know-Who, eh?"

Harry considered objecting, then shrugged. "Sure," he said, rearranging their arms. "But I think it's more appropriate that I get to be the blushing maiden, don't you?"

Draco let out a bitter, caustic laugh that made Harry's chest ache for him. He flung the blanket over his shoulder, then laid his now-free hand awkwardly over Harry's. "Sure. We'll tell them all that I, Draco Malfoy, have finally been the one to seduce the Boy Who Lived."

Harry blanched slightly, then said, "How about we don't tell them anything?"

Draco looked at him askance. "You mean, refuse to answer questions, avoid the topic and generally act as guilty as possible while never outright admitting or denying anything?"

Harry nodded. Draco smiled. "Sounds like fun."

They set off around the castle, Harry's heart fluttering with nervousness while his body thrummed with heat from the simple contact. He had no idea how he would manage to change clothes in Draco's bedroom without exploding, but he had an idea that an emergency bit of tossing off would be involved. He laid his head on Draco's shoulder as they approached the doors, and Draco paused to run gentle fingers over his cheek, eyes unreadable.

Definitely some emergency tossing off, thought Harry as they straightened up and went inside.