Phase Two – Pick-up lines and casual touches
Two weeks had gone by when Draco thought he got used to Potter’s suspicious behavior of smiling and winking at him randomly. He just got the irritated twitching of his eyes under control when Potter introduced a new tactic for killing him slowly: Potter greeted him.
The first time it happened, was on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast on Monday. Draco was not a morning person, but on this peculiar day he was in a really good mood because Quidditch tryouts were taking place this afternoon. As he strolled into the Great Hall, though, it happened. Potter was just on his way out, and as usual flashed him an awkward (murderous) smile. But this time, Potter added a cheerful “Morning, Malfoy!”, and Draco went rigid.
After three minutes of standing petrified in the entrance, he made his way to the Slytherin table with trembling limbs. Today, he was sure, Potter was going to kill him. All day long he was on edge. Tryouts somehow went fine since Draco flew like it was the last time and he were to never get the chance to fly again.
When he still wasn’t dead the next day, Draco relaxed a bit, only to be greeted again by Potter in Potions. This time, the saviour sauntered into the classroom. And when he passed Draco’s table, he looked him up and down, smirked and said “Morning, Malfoy. Looking good, today.”
Draco was so preoccupied with gaping at the git that he totally forgot to make a snarky comeback like “I always look good, unlike you.” But even that would have been untrue, because nowadays Potter was looking fine. Draco had to witness this on several weekends when they were allowed to shed their school uniforms. Not only Potter’s hair and glasses suited him. No, even his clothes fit like a second skin, complimenting his eyes and toned figure. He cleaned up very nicely and Draco had a hard time not to let his gaze linger too long on the stupid Gryffindork.
Another two weeks of casual greetings, Draco was sure the irritated twitch of his eyes was becoming a permanent feature. Potter managed to surprise yet again: he became verbally abusive.
Harry was having a shit load of fun. In the beginning, he was appalled and insecure to do anything flirtatious to Malfoy. But seeing his shocked reactions and flushing face every time Harry did or said something left Harry deeply satisfied. He decided to up the game a bit. Last night he, Ron, and Seamus had collected pick-up lines, making them roar with laughter. It was time for the heavier stuff.
This fine morning, Harry cornered Malfoy after Transfiguration class. They locked eyes and Harry strode purposefully over while Malfoy stood petrified, eyes wide open in horror.
Harry bit his lip and looked Malfoy up and down suggestively before locking eyes with him again. “Was that awkward eye contact or were we checking each other out?”
Something seemed to click in the Slytherin’s head, as a faint dusting of pink bloomed on his cheeks. “Is that what you’re doing all this time? Are you flirting with me?” Malfoy asked faintly, big, fearful mercury eyes trained on Harry.
“I thought I made it rather obvious the last few weeks” Harry replied, smirking.
Malfoy let out a terrified whimper and hid behind Goyle’s beefy figure, clasping his hands over his ears.
Harry peeked around Goyle who watched the spectacle amused. “If you were a fruit,” the Gryffindor whispered conspirationally, “you’d be a ‘fine-apple’.” Then he waggled his eyebrows for good measure.
Malfoy moaned pitifully, “Greg, make it stop, please!”
Harry felt somehow really affronted. Him flirting surely could not be that awful! Admittedly, he flirted very badly. But everybody else would be dying to have Harry flirt with them! And Malfoy acted like it was the end of the world.
He clucked his tongue. “If you want me to stop, then go on a date with me.”
“Never. Over my dead body” Malfoy hissed, drawing his wand.
“Alright, down, boy, down” Goyle said soothingly, patting Malfoy’s head. Predictably, the gesture didn’t calm the blonde but only made him more aggressive. With an apologetic glance towards Harry, Goyle dragged Malfoy who was glaring daggers at Harry away.
Well, that could have gone better. But Harry still had many pick-up lines in his repertoire.
“I suffer. I am to be pitied, but no one pities me” Draco moaned in Potions where he was paired up with Longbottom of all people.
“What got your knickers in a twist, Malfoy?” Longbottom asked while carefully chopping some Anjelica.
Eyeing the Gryffindor’s handiwork distrustfully, Draco said “Potter is haunting me with stupid pick-up lines. And my traitorous friends all think I should go for it.” It was true, Draco had endured lines like ‘If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged’ and ‘I thought this was a school, but I must be in a museum because you’re a piece of art.’ It was horrible!
And he couldn’t bitch about it to Pansy and Blaise, because all they did when he first told them was shrugging and saying “good for you” and “see, your crush is not unrequited!” Bastards, all of them.
Even Hermione was hinting for Draco to go out with Potter, always finding a badly concealed reason to sing Potter’s praises and why it would be beneficial to date him.
“There, there” Longbottom said, patting his hand comfortingly. “It must have been hard for you.”
Touched by the compassion in Longbottom’s voice, Draco teared up a little. “Oh, it was so hard! Everybody has gone mad, I swear. You’re the first sane person I talked to in weeks!” The Slytherin launched into a thorough explanation of what exactly went wrong in his life. Longbottom was a surprisingly good listener, humming and muttering encouraging words at exactly the right places.
Feeling tremendously better, Draco left the Potions classroom in high spirits, blissfully unaware of the emerging conflict he left behind.
That Harry was pissed was the understatement of the year. All he saw was Malfoy and Neville being all chummy, and he saw red.
“Oi, Neville” he called out after Potions. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry stomped over angrily, Ron and Seamus right behind him.
“Yeah, Neville. What was all that about?” Ron asked.
“Are you trying to sabotage our plan?” Seamus chimed in.
Neville gave them a levelled look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb, Neville. You were clearly flirting with Malfoy the whole time.” Harry spit through gritted teeth. He was surprised to feel that agitated about it.
“Oh, is talking to your classmate immediately flirting?” Neville asked innocently.
“We know you think he’s fit” Seamus said accusingly. “Hands off him, okay?”
“I would like to say the first to succeed gets him, but I’m not interested in Malfoy that way. Just know that he was actually nice to talk to. If you’re still set on your stupid revenge, someone’s bound to get hurt.” Neville answered, staring his friends down.
“Yeah, Malfoy’s gonna get hurt. That’s the goal” Ron chuckled awkwardly.
“I didn’t mean him”, Neville shot back, glancing over his shoulder while walking out of the Potions classroom.
“Don’t know what he’s talking about”, Seamus muttered.
“Come on, mate”, Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and proceeded to guide him out. “We’ll be late for lunch.”
Harry followed deep in thought. This whole thing wasn’t meant to make his friend turn against him. Somehow all the fun had turned a bit sour.
If Draco thought he had it hard during the week, the weekend was hell. He had nowhere to go but the library where Hermione pestered him about homework and Potter’s good qualities – though Draco was deeply in denial about Potter having any – and the common room where his friends would pester him about going out with Potter. The Quidditch pitch was out of question because there already was the one person he tried to avoid.
Draco decided to take a long bath in the prefects’ bathroom, trying to relax his tortured mind. And muscles. His whole body was tensed, always anticipating an ambush from Potter.
Two hours later, after a long soak and extensive body care, Draco trudged back to the common room in his bath robe.
Too comfortable to change into real clothes again, he just sat down next to his friends near the fire.
“Look who has deigned to join us. The princess has finally left her chamber”, Blaise said teasingly.
“Shut up, Blaise” Draco mumbled, snuggling deeper into the sofa cushions.
“Are you hungry again, Draco?” Greg asked, forehead furrowed in concern and holding out a chocolate frog.
“Why are you never asking the other’s if they are hungry? They are way more dramatic than I am!” Draco exclaimed indignantly but obediently stuffed the offered treat in his mouth.
“We’re not dramatic, we’re just realistic, darling” Pansy answered smiling serenely at him.
“Realistic my arse”, Draco muttered darkly and licked the chocolate off his fingers.
Smile widening into a shark like grin, Pansy said “At least we’re not in denial about liking Potter’s obsessive flirting.”
Draco gasped and sprang to his feet, pointing at his friend accusingly. “Firstly, it's not flirting, it's verbal abuse. Secondly, I don't like it at all. I hate it. And I hate him.”
Pansy just rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you give him a chance? He’s totally your type.”
Draco spluttered. „Why in Salazar‘s name should I go for Potter? He’s scrawny, and a midget, and…“ he trailed off when he was suddenly backed up against the wall by Potter himself.
Potter slammed his hands on either side of Draco’s head, effectively caging him in.
The Gryffindor must have grown over the summer. Draco had always been taller, he was sure. But now, Potter had a good two inches on him. Looking down his nose, the Gryffindor flexed his biceps and said, „So. Scrawny and a midget, huh?“
Draco couldn’t answer, because he felt quite dizzy, being assaulted like this by Potter who still wore his Quidditch robes which hugged his body in just the right places, showing off his muscles, and smelled like sweat, broom polish and grass. It made Draco whimper.
“You know, what your problem is, Draco?” Potter purred into his ear.
The Slytherin shivered involuntarily when hearing his first name and shook his head. He did not know if he did it to answer Potter’s question or to rid himself of the sudden onslaught of unwelcome feelings.
His breath quickened and his face flushed when Potter leveled his face with Draco’s. “You’re in denial, Draco. But that’s okay. You just need to get your priorities gay.” Potter said straight faced.
At this time Weasley barreled into the common room with a gleeful expression. He hollered, “I’ve got a good one: Nice robe, Malfoy. But it would look even better on Harry’s bedroom floor.” Then he winked with his mouth wide open, the oaf, and burst into a fit of laughter.
“You know, he has a point” Potter leered.
Draco, if possibly, turned even redder. His gaze, though, was transfixed by Potter’s lips. When Potter’s tongue darted out, to moisten his lips, Draco’s brain short circuited and he gave into the instinct to flee. While ducking under Potter’s arm, he said the first excuse that came to mind. “I have to gay–I mean, go.” And then he ran.
That evening, Harry lay in bed thinking. Though he was having tremendous fun, there was always a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind.
Harry sighed. That whole joke was becoming a bit more than he had bargained for, he realized. Especially now that Hermione pointed out he was bisexual. Harry couldn’t help but feel conscious of this new bit of knowledge about his sexuality. It made him aware of things about Malfoy, too.
He thought back to when he had Malfoy backed up against the wall. Malfoy had smelled nice. Fresh and fruity from the bath he must have taken. Harry felt his mouth water.
The Slytherin had looked quite cute with rosy cheeks and fluffy, still slightly damp hair. And Merlin, the bathrobe…From so close Harry could see practically Malfoy’s whole chest exposed, even the pink pert nipples. Harry moaned at the memory. Then, he slapped his hand over his mouth in shock. Did he really just get the hots for the greatest arsehole alive?
Good lord, Harry hated him. That bastard had made him get hard. He wanted to punish Malfoy for feeling this way. Maybe give him a good spanking… He groaned in frustration; his thoughts led in a dangerous direction.
Was it even allowed to find the person who was the bane of your existence attractive? It had to be normal. Malfoy was a handsome bloke like Neville pointed out, there was no denying that. And Harry was a raging bisexual, after all.
Up close, Harry could see the fine dusting of light freckles and the milkiness of Malfoy’s perfect skin. Harry wanted to ruin it with red marks. Malfoy’s lips were plump and pink, they begged to be bitten. And his eyes, Harry always thought they were as cold and hard as steel. But they seemed warm, like molten silver. They were tinted with specs of blue and yellow, and Harry would have lost himself in them if it were not for Ron barreling in.
Remembering Ron brought Harry abruptly down to earth again. He really had to stop thinking about Malfoy in that way. He had to focus on his revenge. But before that, Harry had to take care of the problem between his legs.
Maybe he needed a different defensive strategy, Draco mused, after he strode with dignity – Blaise had called it ‘turning tail’; Draco should strip him of his friend-status and demote him to useless underling again, really – out of the Great Hall where Potter had ambushed him with “I don’t know which is prettier today: the weather, or your eyes”. It had been raining.
Anyway, Draco could not believe the nerve of Potter. First, he wanted to murder him, now he was flirting. Just what had the world become? But Draco had enough. He could not run away anymore. He needed to get it together and face Potter to make it perfectly clear that the Malfoy heir was way out of Potter’s league.
Potter tried to make a fool out of him, Draco was sure. But it was going to stop now. With his new-found confidence, Draco entered the Potions classroom with a cocky grin.
His grin faded when Potter was already there, leaning casually against Draco’s desk. Potter smiled at him winningly, Draco scowled.
“I thought we could partner up, today” the Gryffindor said, taking a seat without waiting for Draco’s answer – which would have been “no”.
Draco couldn’t protest, though, because Slughorn already waddled in. “Came to parasitise on my superior potions skills, Potty?” the Slytherin hissed while grudgingly taking the seat next to the Gryffindor.
“Oh, I have a few ideas how to suck you dry, but potions is not one of them.” Draco choked. Potter smirked, continuing, “No, I thought we could spent some quality time together, so you could get to know your future boyfriend.”
“As if you could ever become my boyfriend, Potter. Please, I have standards”, Draco sneered.
Potter was not dissuaded in the least. He pinched his shirt and lifted it, so Draco got a good look on his exposed stomach. Potter had smooth, tanned skin over taut muscles with dark locks trailing down in the middle. Draco gulped.
“Do you know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend material.” The Gryffindor winked.
Draco rolled his eyes, “It looks like a cheap cotton polyester blend to me.”
He tried to focus on the instructions Slughorn was giving up front. For a moment it seemed he had succeeded in shutting Potter up. Then he felt his hand being prodded gently. He pulled his hand away aggressively and turned to face the menace of a man. “What?” he snapped, annoyed.
Potter stared at him with big, green eyes, seemingly concerned. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
Draco scoffed. He already knew where this cheap line was going. Not today, Potter. “No, but I scraped my knees climbing out of hell.”
“Oh…” Potter said dejectedly. Draco smirked. 10 Points for Slytherin!
“I heard there’s fire in hell. That must be why you’re so hot.” Potter said solemnly, making a grandiose comeback that made Draco’s jaw drop.
Huffing, the blonde faced Slughorn again. But when Potter whispered victoriously “Gryffindor wins the housecup!” he could not suppress the amused snort that escaped his lips entirely.
After Potions, Harry was feeling elated. He made Malfoy laugh! Okay, it was more like a snort that the blonde covered up quickly by coughing. But still, it counted! And he finally got a reaction out of the Slytherin other than him running away scared. He let himself be roped into banter, made snarky comebacks and it left Harry positively delighted. It was progress.
Malfoy being respondent became a daily occurrence. Harry felt like the playing field was evened out, like Malfoy was actively participating in the game now, too. It felt like playing Quidditch, natural and exhilarating. And if Harry could be confident in one thing, it was his flying abilities. If playing with Malfoy in this courting-game felt the same, Harry was sure to win.
With his new-found confidence, he doubled his efforts. He added casual touches whenever he could. Was it leaning around Malfoy in Potions to grab an ingredient or putting his hands on his waist when he squeezed through behind him in crowded corridors.
He even made Ron cast a subtle tripping jinx at the blonde so Harry could catch him before the fall. Or Seamus would knock Malfoy’s books out of his hands in passing and Harry deliberately brushed their fingers and lingered when helping him picking up the books.
Malfoy, in turn, would redden a lovely shade and insult Harry in every possible way. In time, Harry didn’t even feel that angry and agitated anymore. It was kind of cute when the blonde scrambled for a snide remark. He almost sounded like he was flirting back, but in a veiled, aggressive way. Harry liked it when Malfoy got all riled up.
Whistling Harry made his way to the library. It was the weekend and he had stalked Malfoy on the Marauders’ Map, so he could initiate an accidental run-in. Just as he turned around the last corner, he bumped into his prey which had landed on his bum.
Harry, the gentleman he was, helped Malfoy up, dusting off the blonde’s robes in a weakly concealed pretense of groping him. Curiously, the Slytherin hadn’t resisted Harry’s touching so far.
His efforts were met with a vitriol of curses. “Potter, you bloody oaf. I should have known that Saint Potter runs around blindly, because not only the masses, no, whole bloody walls split before him, too! But I won’t give you the time of the day, scarhead. I’ll stand firmly in your way. And mark my words, someday you will be the one falling down in front of me.”
“Oh, but I already fell, Draco, darling.” Harry smirked, halting Malfoy in his angry rant. “I fell for you.”
That shut the Slytherin up effectively. He looked up at Harry with wide eyes, standing absolutely still. A rosy colour spread over his cheeks down to his neck and up to his ears.
Harry softened his expression into a gentle smile. He reached up and brushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind Malfoy’s ear, cataloging the softness of it to mull over later.
“I like you like this. With your mouth shut and blushing. If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber”, he whispered and bopped his nose.
Something flashed in Malfoy’s eyes, and Harry decided to make a run for it, lest the blonde reached for his wand to hex him. He turned around and speed-walked back to the common-room shooting Malfoy a wink over his shoulder.