Two

Harry Potter was in a bad way. He was a healthy sixteen year old, which meant his hormones were doing most of his thinking for him. Some days he felt so miserably horny he actually welcomed homework because it forced him to concentrate on something other than his demanding penis. Intellectually, he knew it was normal for him to be so freaking randy, but he was quite accustomed to thinking of himself as not normal. Anything but normal. So when the pictures supplied by his brain when he was wanking kept featuring a pointy-faced, white-haired, silver-eyed ferret of a Slytherin MALE, he wasn't sure whether to think of it as abnormal or just life as usual taking him off in another direction.

He used to think of boys who liked other boys as flaming poufs, shirt-lifters, perverts, sweet Sallys who had a little sugar in their shoes. But now he was starting to wonder. Faced with the fact that at least once a day he found himself gasping for air, pulling himself to completion, trying desperately not to shout Draco's name, he was beginning to accept that his shoes were the ones filled with sugar.

It was ironic that Harry considered being a flaming pouf a far less damaging secret than the identity of whom Harry fancied.

Being 'The Boy Who Sashayed' was also a little less newsworthy than 'The Boy Who Lived to Snog a Death Eater.' Harry was still working up the nerve to talk to Hermione and Ron about his first secret, which he knew they'd accept ... eventually, in Ron's case. He didn't know how they'd react to the second. So for now he daydreamed about Malfoy and stocked up on hand lotion.

He'd kissed Malfoy twice now. Both times Malfoy had initiated the kissing, even if Harry was the one responsible for their second meeting. He'd carried that note in his pocket for days before he'd had a chance to pass it to the Slytherin.

Their first kiss was definitely a wake-up call to his sexuality, but that night on the Astronomy Tower had rocked Harry's world. Oh, he knew about the things those kinds of boys did together; the guys talked about it sometimes after Quidditch practice, usually in the form of vulgar jokes. But he'd never had any experience except for a bit of very unsatisfactory wet kissing with Cho and two extremely hot kisses from Malfoy. Not to mention the touching. Oh, God, the touching.

Harry definitely wanted more of the touching. There was one big problem. He knew, just knew, that Malfoy was up to something, but hadn't been able to actually prove it yet, even after countless hours spent poring over the Marauder's Map or under cover of the Invisibility Cloak, tracking Malfoy's movements. He simultaneously wanted to string him up and snog him senseless.

About the only thing going Harry's way was the unexpected help in Potions he was getting from the Half-Blood Prince's book.

There! Harry watched as the pair of footprints marked "Draco Malfoy" walked up the dungeon corridor and headed off in what looked like normal territory for prefect rounds.

***

Draco Malfoy was in a bad way. He'd made two botched attempts at killing Dumbledore and was at his wits' end trying to think of another way to do the job. His mother's stress level was evident in the things she did not write in her letters. Snape was breathing down his neck, Potter was still spying on him, and he couldn't stop thinking about Potter's lips. The strain was beginning to show in his marks. He was no longer second only to Granger in Potions; Zabini had bested him on the last test. And he knew the Charms essay he was tuning in tomorrow was sub-par.

He couldn't talk to anyone about his problem either, so spending time with any of his friends was getting less and less tolerable. The only time he was with Crabbe and Goyle these days was when when they were on guard duty for him.

At least his prefect status allowed him free roam of the castle after curfew. And he took full advantage. Punishing errant students boosted his mood a little. He wanted to catch Potter out late again, but he hadn't seen him after hours since the time in the Astronomy Tower. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do though, since Potter gave him such mixed messages. Little tosser just couldn't accept the truth that he liked boys.

There was just too much to deal with this year, and Draco wasn't all that sure his sanity was holding.

Heaving a sigh, Draco left his Common Room to take up his nightly wandering.

Another uneventful evening passed, and both boys went to bed tired, frustrated, and out of sorts.

***

The next afternoon Harry resolved he'd force a conversation with Draco somehow. When he saw Draco's footprints just downstairs of him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he dashed down there. Fortifying himself, he entered, rehearsing the line he'd prepared.

"Malfoy, that is, Draco, we really should talk. I..."

He stopped, mouth agape, transfixed at the sight of Draco Malfoy's tear-stained face.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snarled. "Not enough just to play the cock tease, now you feel it necessary to search me out and humiliate me any way you can? 'Hey, let's catch that little fag Malfoy crying like a girl in the loo!' Well, I'm sick of it!"

Malfoy grunted as he threw a Stinging Hex in Harry's direction, which glanced off Harry's Protego.

"No! Malfoy...! Draco...! Stop!" Hexes flew, and it took a monumental effort on Harry's part not to retaliate in kind, to only block them with Shield Charms. As Harry jumped out of the way, he was vaguely impressed with Draco's progress in spell-casting. Breathless, he finally managed to throw himself on Draco, trapping his wand arm against the wall.

"I'm trying to talk to you, you moron, that's all, just talk!"

"Oh, really? Are you going to tell me more about how snogging boys disgusts you so much? How straight you are? And how shoving your tongue down my throat was purely accidental?" Even pinned to a bloody wall, wiping sweat, snot and tears from his face, Draco managed an impressive sneer.

Harry reluctantly pushed off of him and leaned against the stall facing him.

"No. None of that. I... I guess I wanted to say... the Astronomy Tower. And the other night before that. I, um..." Harry ducked his reddening face.

"Gods, Potter, you're hopeless."

"I liked it, okay? I liked it. I thought you did, too. And I wondered if you wanted to... um, more." Harry ended almost on a whisper.

Draco stared at him.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?" He moved imperceptibly toward Harry. "Any idea at all?"

"Oh, shut up, you idiot." Harry crossed the remaining space and grabbed Draco to him in a ferocious, breath-stealing kiss. Draco responded violently, not caring that their teeth clacked against each other or that in his desperation, he was bruising Harry's mouth. Harry reached down to grab Draco's loosely hanging shirt, jerked it the rest of the way out of his trousers, then started on his zip.

"Here..."

"Let me..."

Draco's fingers fumbled with the buttons on the fly of Harry's Muggle denims, finally just forcing them open. Harry reached Draco's cock at the same time, eliciting a drawn-out groan from him.

Draco pushed Harry's hand away so he could hold their two pricks together. They both gasped at the contact of the warm, luxuriously silky flesh, already thrumming in anticipation. He started to stroke, Harry's hand immediately curling in around his. Draco's eyes closed and his head lolled back. His other arm went around the dark-haired boy, holding himself upright against Harry.

"Oh shit, oh shit yeah, Potter."

"Harry."

"What?"

"It's Harry, call me Harry, Draco. Please, just say it."

"Harry. Harry. Oh, guh, HARRY!"

"Yes, Draco, gods, yes!"

For a long moment there was no noise but hard panting and the slight smack of flesh sliding against flesh. Then two voices moaned in unison as they came together. Harry fought to keep a whimper inside him and instead lifted one hand to Draco's cheek, cupping the fine pale flesh in his palm and stroking Draco's cheek softly with his thumb. Draco kissed him slowly, eyes still shut tight as if he didn't want this moment, this feeling, to end. He leaned his forehead against Harry's and drew a shuddering breath.

Draco looked down to where their hands were still joined and raised an eyebrow to Harry, giving him a small smile. Harry watched as Draco flicked his wand to clean the mess they'd made of themselves, and gently tucked first Harry, then himself, back inside their clothing.

Harry sighed. "I've thought lately how it would be nice if we didn't have to be enemies," he whispered.

Draco snorted. "You know, everything would have changed if the seating arrangement had been different on the Hogwarts Express our first year." He paused a moment, thinking back. "If we'd sat together back then, who knows? Maybe we'd be working with each other now, instead of against. Maybe even have gotten sorted together."

Harry smiled. "Can you imagine us in the same House? Only I really can't picture you as a Gryffindor."

"Or you in Slytherin."

"Is it... Is it still too late, Draco? Is there not any way we can come out of this together?"

"Don't fool yourself, Har-Potter. Our ways have been set. We're both caught up in things.... I... We're both caught up in it. We can't turn around and change now."

"Bullshit! You've been up to something all this year! I know it, you know it. But if you want to get out from under it, you can. Go to Dumbledore! He'd help you, Draco, I know, and so would I! You could become part of the..."

"Shut it, you idiot! Don't tell me things that you know I can't hear! Go to Dumbledore? Don't you realize? There are things bigger than just you and me going on here!"

"But Dumbledore could help you! Listen to me, you great prat! He'd help you if you just went and told him what was going on!"

"And get my father killed? Potter, you can be so naive sometimes." Draco had begun to back away from Harry and now started pacing in the small room, his eyes growing wild and desperate looking.

"Merlin save me from self-righteous Gryffindors! Listen to me and listen good. Whatever it is you think I'm up to, you can't stop me. I have to do this."

"That's it? You're not going to even try to change things? It's too hard to ask for help? 'Our ways have been set?' Merlin save me from cowardly Slytherins!" Harry lowered his voice, hissing out the words, "Are you going to take the Mark then, too?" Harry knew he was only making things worse, but they had been so frustratingly, maddeningly close. He just didn't know what he could say or do to make Draco see reason. And his fall-back behavior with the blond had always been this, taunting him to provoke action.

It came almost before he saw it.

"Cruci..."

"Protego! Expelliarmus!" He dove around the corner as his counterspell missed the mark.

Draco's face contorted as he aimed his wand, and Harry saw the yellow path of another hex heading toward him, barely missing his left shoulder. When had Draco perfected his nonverbal hexing? He was crap at them in DADA!

Harry searched his brain for a hex to throw back, and the writing in the Half-Blood Prince's Advanced Potions book came to mind.

"Sectumsempra!"

***

Beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was watching Draco's progress again, this time from his vantage point in the Infirmary. Pomfrey had hardly left Draco's side after Snape had brought him in, but she had finally gone to her quarters for the night after putting a Distress Monitor Charm on Draco's still form. Harry neared the bed where Draco slept. He looked pale, much more pale than normal. He had lost so much blood. Oh, God, the blood! Harry knew with unaccustomed insight that it was only because he was "The Chosen One" that he hadn't been expelled.

The same clarity of mind told him now that Draco had been right. Maybe in another world, another time, they could have found a place together. Maybe after Voldemort was finally gone, they...

But that line of thinking would only drive him mad. He'd had a few shining moments with Draco. If there were to be more, they could only come because Harry had concentrated on the main task. Research Horcruxes. Find and destroy them. Take away Voldemort's backup plan, his quest for immortality. Figure out how to effectively and finally kill him.

A tear fell on the bedspread. Harry hadn't realized he'd moved so close.

"One day, Draco, I promise," he mouthed the words, not daring even to whisper aloud, "I'll make it safe for you. I'll make this up to you. Somehow, I will make this up to you."

Wiping the moisture from his cheeks, Harry stayed one more moment looking at the boy in the bed. The boy he'd hated, fought with, lusted after, yearned for... and almost killed.

With renewed purpose and a white-hot pain in his heart, he turned and walked out the door.

~fin~

***

A/N: This was inspired by A Kiss by norwegianeyes.

I was so pleased to receive reviews on the previous chapter on both TPP and OWL, in which some readers asked me to continue the story. Thanks so much to all of you who encouraged me like that. Another big thank you goes to Miamadwyn, who forwarded softobsidian's LJ post about Writing Buddies. I'd all but put this aside until then.

And finally, many, many thanks to ApollinaV and Mischievous_T, who held my hand and beta read this, and without whose invaluable suggestions this story would have remained unposted.