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Shameless Self-Satisfaction and DRABBLES!
As I briefly mentioned in my last post, I won the H/D LDWS! Lemme tell you, when I signed up, I have no idea this would happen. I saw the list of amazing writers who were involved, and my personal goal was just to survive the first half. Well, I was pretty thrilled then I did that. Of course, I still thought I'd be kicked off the island within the next week or two. So when I suddenly found myself still alive after the sixth week... Well, what else was there to do at that point but take it all? ;)
Week 4:
Week 6:
Week 7:
And here are the drabbles I wrote for the shindig, complete with their prompts. The ones from week 4 and week 7 are not too bad. ;)
Title: Relatively Harmless
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 175
Prompt: Hiccoughing Solution; 100-200 words
As pranks went, Draco thought, this one was relatively harmless. He supposed he should consider himself lucky, given that he'd endured plenty of the not-so-harmless sort since he'd returned to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T. level studies. Still, being dosed with a Hiccoughing Solution in the middle of dinner was bloody embarrassing, and he'd been forced to flee the Great Hall to the sound of uproarious laughter.
He was halfway to the hospital wing when Potter tackled him from out of nowhere, shoved him against the wall, and proceeded to snog him senseless. Draco wanted to protest, to push Potter away, to hex him, to punch him in his absurdly handsome face. Yet somehow snogging turned into frantic wriggling and groping and clutching and groaning, and when they broke apart at last, they were both flushed and breathless.
Struggling to find his voice, Draco said, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?! You… you… you assaulted me!"
Potter, damn him, had the gall to grin. "Well," he said, "cured your hiccoughs, didn't it?"
Title: No Words
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 398
Prompt: Gregory's Unctuous Unction; 200-400 words
Yesterday's plan went perfectly, all the details falling into place, and Draco got everything he wanted and more. Or so he thought then. Now, as he stands in the quiet corridor and watches fury spark in Potter's eyes, he's no longer so certain.
"I know what you did," Potter says. "I'm not an idiot, despite what you might think. But why? Was it really that important?"
Draco knows he need not justify himself to a Gryffindor, but he finds that he wants to explain it to Potter. His tongue feels like it's been hexed to the roof of his mouth, though, and he can't find the words.
All he wanted was to use Potter's broom -- a Firebolt II, a far superior model to any other in the school -- during tryouts for the new Slytherin Quidditch team. Trivial though it might seem, it was more for Draco than just a chance to show off. It was an opportunity to prove his worth and be a part of something again.
Still reeling with elation after regaining his old Seeker position, Draco returned Potter's broom in perfect condition. And Potter grinned, and slapped him on the back, and congratulated him on his brilliant flying. Then Potter nicked some butterbeer, and they went to the lake to celebrate.
It felt good to have someone support him and be happy for him, even if Draco knew it wasn't real. Potter was surprisingly funny and generous, and being around him was strangely comfortable. After a while, Draco started to notice things like the way Potter ran his hand through his hair when he was flustered, or the way his face lit up with warmth when he laughed.
There is no warmth in Potter now. Draco realizes that he still hasn't spoken, and Potter's expression is growing darker.
"The real irony," Potter says, "is that you didn't need to use the potion. I'd have loaned you my broom if you'd just asked. Hell, I'd have… I'd have been your friend if you'd asked."
Something like hope flares within Draco before Potter goes on.
"I thought you'd changed." Potter looks disgusted, whether with himself or Draco or both, Draco doesn't know. "But you're the same deceitful, selfish bastard you've always been. Just stay the hell away from me, Malfoy."
Draco still has no words for what he feels when Potter turns and walks away.
Title: Interrogation (Against Regulation)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: -
Word Count: 250
Prompt: Veritaserum; exactly 250 words
"What the hell, Williamson!" Harry shouted as he stormed towards the interrogation room. "You used Veritaserum on someone you brought in for loitering?"
Williamson shrugged. "He's a Malfoy. No one cares what we do with him."
"I care! That was completely against regulation."
Clearly unimpressed, Williamson said, "Got some information out of him that will interest you."
"…Oh?"
"He was looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
* * * * *
Harry entered the interrogation room, perched on the edge of the table, and nodded. "Malfoy."
With a shadow of a sneer, Malfoy said, "Potter. I wondered when you'd turn up."
"They said you were looking for me." When that received no response, Harry asked, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you, obviously."
Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Harry said, "About what?"
"I wanted…" Malfoy swallowed. "I wanted to ask you to dinner."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Well why not?" Malfoy snapped. "I'm not good enough for Perfect Potter?"
"I didn't say no."
"…Then you will?"
Shrugging, Harry said, "Sure."
"Really?" Malfoy began to smile up at Harry, but his relieved expression abruptly turned to a glare. "You're a right prat, Potter. How dare you take advantage of someone under the influence of Veritaserum?!"
Harry couldn't help it; he doubled over with laughter, nearly falling off the table.
Malfoy appeared livid. "Think it's funny, do you? Fuck you, Potter."
That only made Harry laugh harder. "Oh, Malfoy," he finally managed to gasp. "The Veritaserum wore off at least ten minutes ago."
Title: Random Rubbish and Rightful Revenge
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 450
Prompt: Evanesco; 400-450 words
Fixing his gaze on the quill in front of him and visualizing his intentions, Harry waved his wand. The quill Vanished. Harry cursed soundly and kicked the leg of his workbench in the Ministry's Spell Research and Development Department.
His latest project had been nothing but frustration. He was attempting to combine the properties of Evanesco with the principles of Apparition to not simply Vanish objects into non-being, but to instantly Transport them to specific locations. The problem was that the spell required considerable focus, and Harry's concentration of late had been, not to put too fine a point on it, shit.
It was all bloody Malfoy's fault. The prat just had to take a position in Potions Research only one corridor over, didn't he? Somehow they always seemed to be bumping into each other, but Harry's attempts at amity were met with cool politeness at best. That didn't stop Harry from ogling Malfoy's arse at every available opportunity, though. Somewhere along the way, Malfoy had become ridiculously fit.
Scrubbing at his eyes, Harry forced his attention back to his work. He stared intently at the next quill, pictured its destination a meter to the right, and waved his wand.
Harry's coffee mug Vanished.
With a sigh, Harry dropped into his chair. He'd liked that mug.
A few moments later, the door burst open. Harry snapped his head up to see Malfoy standing in the doorway, clearly irate and covered in coffee.
"Would you care to tell me," Malfoy gritted out, "just what the fuck you think you're doing?"
Unable to come up with anything better, Harry said, "Erm. Pardon?"
"I've been swimming in random rubbish for weeks!"
"What makes you think it was me?"
Malfoy held Harry's mug aloft and snorted. "Who else would have a cup that says 'Gryffindors come with a roar?'"
"All right, fine," Harry sighed. "It wasn't intentional, though."
"You have precisely thirty seconds to convince me of that before I stuff your every orifice with aforementioned rubbish."
"I've been working on a spell to… Apparate objects, essentially. I had no idea they were going to you," Harry added quickly. "I thought I'd just Vanished them."
A wicked smile curved Malfoy's lips, and he sauntered closer. "So what you're saying is that you've been… thinking hard about me for weeks."
Harry's face flamed. "Er. No?"
"Remember, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Slytherins always get their revenge. I'd watch out for nasty surprises if I were you. A lust potion slipped into your coffee, for example." With that, he set Harry's mug on the workbench, turned, and strode out of the room.
A sly grin crept across Harry's face. He wondered what he should send to Malfoy next.
Title: What He Doesn't Know
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 298
Prompt: Sectumsempra; 250-300 words
Harry still feels guilty about the incident in their sixth year; Draco knows that. It's in Harry's eyes every time he looks at the faint scar that's still slashed across Draco's chest. But in his mind, Draco forgave Harry for that scar ages ago.
What Harry doesn't know is that Draco no longer thinks of it as the time Harry nearly killed him. He thinks of it as the time -- one of the many -- Harry saved his life.
After all, if Harry hadn't used the spell on him, then Draco wouldn't have known it existed. Wouldn't have learned it. Wouldn't have been able to use it when the hulking, masked Death Eater had him trapped on the stairs during the Battle of Hogwarts.
Draco can't ever tell Harry any of that, though. If Harry found out that he'd killed someone, his feelings for Draco would change. Living with Harry's guilt and knowing he could assuage it is hard, but living without Harry is unthinkable.
****
Draco tries to hide things from Harry, but Draco's not as Slytherin as he thinks he is. He can't keep a secret to save his life. Not from Harry, at least.
Harry knows every damned thing that happened on the night of the battle. Of course he knows about the Death Eater Draco took down near the end. It was war. He's just grateful that Draco survived it.
It's not Harry's secret to tell, though, so he waits for Draco to bring it up. And Draco will, when he's ready to forgive himself. When he's ready to trust Harry. When he's ready to let it go. Then -- only then -- Harry will allow himself to let go of what happened in sixth year.
Harry's not a Slytherin, but he can be patient when it matters.
Title: The Best Laid Plans…
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 250
Prompt: Wingardium Leviosa; 200-250 words
It was well past midday, and a chill breeze had begun to sweep across the Hogwarts grounds. Draco wished he'd at least thought to wear a heavier cloak. Granted, he'd had no way of knowing that he'd be spending the better part of his afternoon dangling by his robes from a tree limb, wrists bound and legs swinging, with his wand on the ground several feet below. To make matters worse, classes would end any moment, and half the school would see him in this humiliating position. Even so, Draco couldn't truly regret the reason he'd ended up in his present predicament.
Once he'd realized his attraction to Potter, Draco had spent weeks carefully planning his seduction. He'd calculated the most likely ways to win Potter over, to make himself charming and irresistible. In the end, none of his scheming had mattered. It hadn't been in the plan at all when, enthralled by Potter's earnest laugh and too-green eyes, Draco had leaned in and kissed him. To his astonishment, Potter had kissed him back, and Draco's heart had done flips in his chest as their lips pressed together. Afterwards, Potter had grinned and blushed and promised to meet Draco later that evening, and Draco couldn't have been more ecstatic.
So Draco had no regrets, and he wouldn't take anything back even if he could. Except, of course, for the fact that he'd kissed Potter where Potter's friends had apparently been able to see it.
Damn Weasley and his Wingardium Leviosa.
Title: The Perils of Too Much Luck
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 400
Prompt: Felix Felicis; exactly 400 words
"Potter!"
At the sound of his name being called across the Atrium, Harry turned. The crowd cleared, and Harry spotted, of all people, Draco Malfoy striding towards him. Malfoy. At Ministry Headquarters. Where Harry worked. Smiling. No good could come of this.
"Potter!" Malfoy said in jovial greeting. "I was just on my way to present my proposal to Myers at Post-War Recovery and Welfare, but I saw you here, and of course I had to stop to say hello."
Harry blinked. He and Malfoy hadn't been enemies in some time, but that hardly made them friends. Their interactions in the last few years had been limited to stiff small talk at Ministry functions, for the most part. Harry responded with a noncommittal, "Er. Right."
"You look quite fetching in Auror robes; have I mentioned that?"
"No, this is definitely the first time."
"Pity. You must allow me to make it up to you with dinner."
Utterly baffled, Harry said, "Pardon?"
"Or we could skip dinner and go straight to the sex, if you prefer." Malfoy winked.
"What?!"
The next thing Harry knew, he was being grabbed, spun, and dipped backwards until he was nearly horizontal. Then Malfoy was pressing their mouths together. And there was tongue.
Harry couldn't reach his wand in that position, but he could still throw a mean left hook.
* * *
When Draco opened his eyes, he found himself lying in an infirmary bed with Potter looking down at him. Scowling at Potter, he said, "Did anyone get the badge number of the Auror that hit me? Oh, wait. That was you."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I had no idea what was happening. Not until the mediwitch told me, anyway." Potter's eyes gleamed with humor. "I take it you weren't paying attention to Slughorn's lecture about Felix Felicis -- and the effects of taking too much?"
Draco groaned. Apparently a double dose did not, in fact, make one twice as lucky. "I wasn't actually looking for you, you know," he muttered.
"Oh."
Was it Draco's imagination, or did Potter sound disappointed? Deciding he had nothing to lose, he ventured, "But I suppose I can't regret finding you."
"Oh?"
"Well, you are fetching in those robes. And… I did get a kiss out of it."
Potter's grin was brilliant. "I guess it's your lucky day."
Draco hurled his pillow at Potter. Privately, though, he thought that Potter might be right.
Title: Once More, for the First Time
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
Prompt: Legilimens; 100 words exactly
Once more Harry can't stop watching Malfoy. Not because Malfoy's up to something, though. It's because he keeps remembering Malfoy pressed against him on his broom; keeps imagining his fingers in Malfoy's hair; keeps dreaming of Malfoy and waking up sticky.
When Malfoy's had enough, he demands, "What do you want, Potter?"
Harry knows Malfoy learned Legilimency, and Harry still can't Occlude. He meets Malfoy's gaze and wills him to see everything.
Malfoy's jaw drops.
Harry awaits the inevitable insults.
None come.
"Well," Malfoy says, "why didn't you just say so?" His smile is sly as he takes Harry's hand.
Week 4:
Week 6:
Week 7:
And here are the drabbles I wrote for the shindig, complete with their prompts. The ones from week 4 and week 7 are not too bad. ;)
Title: Relatively Harmless
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 175
Prompt: Hiccoughing Solution; 100-200 words
As pranks went, Draco thought, this one was relatively harmless. He supposed he should consider himself lucky, given that he'd endured plenty of the not-so-harmless sort since he'd returned to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T. level studies. Still, being dosed with a Hiccoughing Solution in the middle of dinner was bloody embarrassing, and he'd been forced to flee the Great Hall to the sound of uproarious laughter.
He was halfway to the hospital wing when Potter tackled him from out of nowhere, shoved him against the wall, and proceeded to snog him senseless. Draco wanted to protest, to push Potter away, to hex him, to punch him in his absurdly handsome face. Yet somehow snogging turned into frantic wriggling and groping and clutching and groaning, and when they broke apart at last, they were both flushed and breathless.
Struggling to find his voice, Draco said, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?! You… you… you assaulted me!"
Potter, damn him, had the gall to grin. "Well," he said, "cured your hiccoughs, didn't it?"
Title: No Words
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 398
Prompt: Gregory's Unctuous Unction; 200-400 words
Yesterday's plan went perfectly, all the details falling into place, and Draco got everything he wanted and more. Or so he thought then. Now, as he stands in the quiet corridor and watches fury spark in Potter's eyes, he's no longer so certain.
"I know what you did," Potter says. "I'm not an idiot, despite what you might think. But why? Was it really that important?"
Draco knows he need not justify himself to a Gryffindor, but he finds that he wants to explain it to Potter. His tongue feels like it's been hexed to the roof of his mouth, though, and he can't find the words.
All he wanted was to use Potter's broom -- a Firebolt II, a far superior model to any other in the school -- during tryouts for the new Slytherin Quidditch team. Trivial though it might seem, it was more for Draco than just a chance to show off. It was an opportunity to prove his worth and be a part of something again.
Still reeling with elation after regaining his old Seeker position, Draco returned Potter's broom in perfect condition. And Potter grinned, and slapped him on the back, and congratulated him on his brilliant flying. Then Potter nicked some butterbeer, and they went to the lake to celebrate.
It felt good to have someone support him and be happy for him, even if Draco knew it wasn't real. Potter was surprisingly funny and generous, and being around him was strangely comfortable. After a while, Draco started to notice things like the way Potter ran his hand through his hair when he was flustered, or the way his face lit up with warmth when he laughed.
There is no warmth in Potter now. Draco realizes that he still hasn't spoken, and Potter's expression is growing darker.
"The real irony," Potter says, "is that you didn't need to use the potion. I'd have loaned you my broom if you'd just asked. Hell, I'd have… I'd have been your friend if you'd asked."
Something like hope flares within Draco before Potter goes on.
"I thought you'd changed." Potter looks disgusted, whether with himself or Draco or both, Draco doesn't know. "But you're the same deceitful, selfish bastard you've always been. Just stay the hell away from me, Malfoy."
Draco still has no words for what he feels when Potter turns and walks away.
Title: Interrogation (Against Regulation)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: -
Word Count: 250
Prompt: Veritaserum; exactly 250 words
"What the hell, Williamson!" Harry shouted as he stormed towards the interrogation room. "You used Veritaserum on someone you brought in for loitering?"
Williamson shrugged. "He's a Malfoy. No one cares what we do with him."
"I care! That was completely against regulation."
Clearly unimpressed, Williamson said, "Got some information out of him that will interest you."
"…Oh?"
"He was looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
* * * * *
Harry entered the interrogation room, perched on the edge of the table, and nodded. "Malfoy."
With a shadow of a sneer, Malfoy said, "Potter. I wondered when you'd turn up."
"They said you were looking for me." When that received no response, Harry asked, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you, obviously."
Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Harry said, "About what?"
"I wanted…" Malfoy swallowed. "I wanted to ask you to dinner."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Well why not?" Malfoy snapped. "I'm not good enough for Perfect Potter?"
"I didn't say no."
"…Then you will?"
Shrugging, Harry said, "Sure."
"Really?" Malfoy began to smile up at Harry, but his relieved expression abruptly turned to a glare. "You're a right prat, Potter. How dare you take advantage of someone under the influence of Veritaserum?!"
Harry couldn't help it; he doubled over with laughter, nearly falling off the table.
Malfoy appeared livid. "Think it's funny, do you? Fuck you, Potter."
That only made Harry laugh harder. "Oh, Malfoy," he finally managed to gasp. "The Veritaserum wore off at least ten minutes ago."
Title: Random Rubbish and Rightful Revenge
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 450
Prompt: Evanesco; 400-450 words
Fixing his gaze on the quill in front of him and visualizing his intentions, Harry waved his wand. The quill Vanished. Harry cursed soundly and kicked the leg of his workbench in the Ministry's Spell Research and Development Department.
His latest project had been nothing but frustration. He was attempting to combine the properties of Evanesco with the principles of Apparition to not simply Vanish objects into non-being, but to instantly Transport them to specific locations. The problem was that the spell required considerable focus, and Harry's concentration of late had been, not to put too fine a point on it, shit.
It was all bloody Malfoy's fault. The prat just had to take a position in Potions Research only one corridor over, didn't he? Somehow they always seemed to be bumping into each other, but Harry's attempts at amity were met with cool politeness at best. That didn't stop Harry from ogling Malfoy's arse at every available opportunity, though. Somewhere along the way, Malfoy had become ridiculously fit.
Scrubbing at his eyes, Harry forced his attention back to his work. He stared intently at the next quill, pictured its destination a meter to the right, and waved his wand.
Harry's coffee mug Vanished.
With a sigh, Harry dropped into his chair. He'd liked that mug.
A few moments later, the door burst open. Harry snapped his head up to see Malfoy standing in the doorway, clearly irate and covered in coffee.
"Would you care to tell me," Malfoy gritted out, "just what the fuck you think you're doing?"
Unable to come up with anything better, Harry said, "Erm. Pardon?"
"I've been swimming in random rubbish for weeks!"
"What makes you think it was me?"
Malfoy held Harry's mug aloft and snorted. "Who else would have a cup that says 'Gryffindors come with a roar?'"
"All right, fine," Harry sighed. "It wasn't intentional, though."
"You have precisely thirty seconds to convince me of that before I stuff your every orifice with aforementioned rubbish."
"I've been working on a spell to… Apparate objects, essentially. I had no idea they were going to you," Harry added quickly. "I thought I'd just Vanished them."
A wicked smile curved Malfoy's lips, and he sauntered closer. "So what you're saying is that you've been… thinking hard about me for weeks."
Harry's face flamed. "Er. No?"
"Remember, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Slytherins always get their revenge. I'd watch out for nasty surprises if I were you. A lust potion slipped into your coffee, for example." With that, he set Harry's mug on the workbench, turned, and strode out of the room.
A sly grin crept across Harry's face. He wondered what he should send to Malfoy next.
Title: What He Doesn't Know
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 298
Prompt: Sectumsempra; 250-300 words
Harry still feels guilty about the incident in their sixth year; Draco knows that. It's in Harry's eyes every time he looks at the faint scar that's still slashed across Draco's chest. But in his mind, Draco forgave Harry for that scar ages ago.
What Harry doesn't know is that Draco no longer thinks of it as the time Harry nearly killed him. He thinks of it as the time -- one of the many -- Harry saved his life.
After all, if Harry hadn't used the spell on him, then Draco wouldn't have known it existed. Wouldn't have learned it. Wouldn't have been able to use it when the hulking, masked Death Eater had him trapped on the stairs during the Battle of Hogwarts.
Draco can't ever tell Harry any of that, though. If Harry found out that he'd killed someone, his feelings for Draco would change. Living with Harry's guilt and knowing he could assuage it is hard, but living without Harry is unthinkable.
****
Draco tries to hide things from Harry, but Draco's not as Slytherin as he thinks he is. He can't keep a secret to save his life. Not from Harry, at least.
Harry knows every damned thing that happened on the night of the battle. Of course he knows about the Death Eater Draco took down near the end. It was war. He's just grateful that Draco survived it.
It's not Harry's secret to tell, though, so he waits for Draco to bring it up. And Draco will, when he's ready to forgive himself. When he's ready to trust Harry. When he's ready to let it go. Then -- only then -- Harry will allow himself to let go of what happened in sixth year.
Harry's not a Slytherin, but he can be patient when it matters.
Title: The Best Laid Plans…
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 250
Prompt: Wingardium Leviosa; 200-250 words
It was well past midday, and a chill breeze had begun to sweep across the Hogwarts grounds. Draco wished he'd at least thought to wear a heavier cloak. Granted, he'd had no way of knowing that he'd be spending the better part of his afternoon dangling by his robes from a tree limb, wrists bound and legs swinging, with his wand on the ground several feet below. To make matters worse, classes would end any moment, and half the school would see him in this humiliating position. Even so, Draco couldn't truly regret the reason he'd ended up in his present predicament.
Once he'd realized his attraction to Potter, Draco had spent weeks carefully planning his seduction. He'd calculated the most likely ways to win Potter over, to make himself charming and irresistible. In the end, none of his scheming had mattered. It hadn't been in the plan at all when, enthralled by Potter's earnest laugh and too-green eyes, Draco had leaned in and kissed him. To his astonishment, Potter had kissed him back, and Draco's heart had done flips in his chest as their lips pressed together. Afterwards, Potter had grinned and blushed and promised to meet Draco later that evening, and Draco couldn't have been more ecstatic.
So Draco had no regrets, and he wouldn't take anything back even if he could. Except, of course, for the fact that he'd kissed Potter where Potter's friends had apparently been able to see it.
Damn Weasley and his Wingardium Leviosa.
Title: The Perils of Too Much Luck
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 400
Prompt: Felix Felicis; exactly 400 words
"Potter!"
At the sound of his name being called across the Atrium, Harry turned. The crowd cleared, and Harry spotted, of all people, Draco Malfoy striding towards him. Malfoy. At Ministry Headquarters. Where Harry worked. Smiling. No good could come of this.
"Potter!" Malfoy said in jovial greeting. "I was just on my way to present my proposal to Myers at Post-War Recovery and Welfare, but I saw you here, and of course I had to stop to say hello."
Harry blinked. He and Malfoy hadn't been enemies in some time, but that hardly made them friends. Their interactions in the last few years had been limited to stiff small talk at Ministry functions, for the most part. Harry responded with a noncommittal, "Er. Right."
"You look quite fetching in Auror robes; have I mentioned that?"
"No, this is definitely the first time."
"Pity. You must allow me to make it up to you with dinner."
Utterly baffled, Harry said, "Pardon?"
"Or we could skip dinner and go straight to the sex, if you prefer." Malfoy winked.
"What?!"
The next thing Harry knew, he was being grabbed, spun, and dipped backwards until he was nearly horizontal. Then Malfoy was pressing their mouths together. And there was tongue.
Harry couldn't reach his wand in that position, but he could still throw a mean left hook.
* * *
When Draco opened his eyes, he found himself lying in an infirmary bed with Potter looking down at him. Scowling at Potter, he said, "Did anyone get the badge number of the Auror that hit me? Oh, wait. That was you."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I had no idea what was happening. Not until the mediwitch told me, anyway." Potter's eyes gleamed with humor. "I take it you weren't paying attention to Slughorn's lecture about Felix Felicis -- and the effects of taking too much?"
Draco groaned. Apparently a double dose did not, in fact, make one twice as lucky. "I wasn't actually looking for you, you know," he muttered.
"Oh."
Was it Draco's imagination, or did Potter sound disappointed? Deciding he had nothing to lose, he ventured, "But I suppose I can't regret finding you."
"Oh?"
"Well, you are fetching in those robes. And… I did get a kiss out of it."
Potter's grin was brilliant. "I guess it's your lucky day."
Draco hurled his pillow at Potter. Privately, though, he thought that Potter might be right.
Title: Once More, for the First Time
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
Prompt: Legilimens; 100 words exactly
Once more Harry can't stop watching Malfoy. Not because Malfoy's up to something, though. It's because he keeps remembering Malfoy pressed against him on his broom; keeps imagining his fingers in Malfoy's hair; keeps dreaming of Malfoy and waking up sticky.
When Malfoy's had enough, he demands, "What do you want, Potter?"
Harry knows Malfoy learned Legilimency, and Harry still can't Occlude. He meets Malfoy's gaze and wills him to see everything.
Malfoy's jaw drops.
Harry awaits the inevitable insults.
None come.
"Well," Malfoy says, "why didn't you just say so?" His smile is sly as he takes Harry's hand.
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