Author’s notes: I found the plot bunny here (number 515) so the credit goes to Remus’s Nymph. It’s written quite differently from my other stories. I hope you enjoy it.



Pansy Parkinson rubbed at the back of her head before bending down to pick a paper dragon off the floor. It looked carefully folded together; its wings had little claws and it had a pointy beak. Over all, it looked very well done.

Pansy turned it over, noticing that something had been written on the back of it.

“’I love you’,” Pansy read out loud.

“Oh, I know, you don’t have to tell me,” drawled a voice just behind her.

Pansy glared up at him, though it was a rather fond glare. “I’m just reading what it says,” she said.

She handed him the paper dragon. “Someone just threw this at my head.”

“Obviously crushing hearts already,” Draco said. He turned the dragon over – and his eyes widened.

Pansy would have missed it, but she had been rather observant of Draco’s behaviour over the last few weeks. His eyes flitted quickly over to the Gryffindor table. Not especially surprised, Pansy found a certain raven-haired, green-eyed young man looking back, though not at her – but at Draco.

Twelve hours earlier

Hot and sweaty after a bout of mind-blowing sex, Draco snuggled against Harry. Harry was still breathing heavy, just coming down from his orgasm. Draco liked this part just as much as the sex itself – though it was nice in a whole different way.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that they were lying on a bed, rather than their spread out robes, that they were in a bedroom rather than in an old classroom and that what they’d just done was lovemaking, not ‘just sex’.

His moment in Harry’s arms didn’t last long. Once Harry had regained his breath he untangled himself from Draco, stood up and started getting dressed. Draco watched from his place on the floor.

“Don’t you ever want more?”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He mentally slapped himself, but forced his face to remain emotionless. A Malfoy never showed emotion.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice was almost a sneer.

Draco didn’t break beneath his gaze. “More than this. More than the sex. A relationship.”

“Oh, Malfoy, you’re not serious?” Harry sighed. “I thought we were doing just fine – and you have to go and say such a thing?”

Draco’s gaze hardened. “I was just asking. It’s not like I’m in l-love with you.”

He cursed himself for stumbling over the word – but it wasn’t a word he was used to saying. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling either and he sure as hell hadn’t meant to start feeling it for Harry Bloody Potter.

“Mafoy,” said Harry and Draco wished he would call him by his first name. “We’re fuck buddies. Great fuck buddies. But that’s all this is, do you understand?”

“No, actually I don’t,” Malfoy said, standing up. He was naked, but he forced that out of his mind. “I don’t think I feel like this anymore.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sakes,” Harry muttered with a roll of his eyes. Then he turned and slammed Draco against the wall and kissed him fiercely, tongue invading Draco’s mouth. Both boys’ breathing quickened.

Harry pulled away. “We’re great fuck buddies, Malfoy.”

Draco, who knew he couldn’t take back the words, shook his head and pushed Harry away. “I want more. More, or nothing at all.”

Harry glared hotly at him.

“Fine then, nothing at all it is,” he said, straightening out his tie and running a hand over his robes. He sneered angrily at Draco. “I thought you were better than that. You, a Malfoy, falling in love with me of all people? You’re pathetic.”

Then he stormed out of there in a manner worthy of Professor Snape; his robes billowed behind him.

Draco bit his lip and watched him go. The door slammed shut and Draco was left alone with his thoughts. There was a lump in his throat but he’d long since learned not to cry. He ran a hand over his lips; they felt swollen after Harry’s sudden attack.

Why on Earth had he had to open his bloody mouth and say something so stupid? He wanted to slam his head against the wall and only barely resisted.

Harry was seething when he returned to the Gryffindor common room. Malfoy had some nerve telling him – demanding him – that he wanted more from their relationship. The whole point of their relationship was that there was nothing ‘more’; they hated each other and that made it easy. They had great sex; that was all they did.

“Why do you look so pissed?” asked Ron when he flopped down and slammed his books down onto the table.

Ron was playing chess with Hermione, who was studying all the while. It seemed Ron was winning, as always.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. He sat back and sulked, watching the flames lick the wood in the open fire.

“It looks like it’s something,” said Hermione without looking up from her book.

“Sod off,” muttered Harry.

Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘sod off’,” Harry said. “I’m allowed to be pissed if I want to.”

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione said and her voice was low and dangerous. “I don’t know what crawled up your arse and bit you, but you better get it out before I decide I need a live body to dissect.”

“Sorry,” said Harry sarcastically and didn’t mean it at all. He glared at the fire.


Harry’s ear suddenly pulled towards Hermione, as though someone was pinching it hard and dragging him along. He had to stand up and stumbled as his ear tried to get closer to Hermione’s wand.

“Now you’re coming with me,” she said and as she walked, Harry was pulled along.

Hermione, who’d been appointed Head Girl, had her own rooms, and she pulled him along there.

“Ow!” Harry yelled as the spell pinched his ear.

“It’s practical, isn’t it,” said Hermione. “I don’t have to work at all and you can’t pull free.”

Once in her rooms, Hermione ended the spell.

“Sit,” she said and Harry obeyed with a heated glare, sitting down on her couch. He rubbed his ear, which had turned bright red.

She took a seat in the arm chair to his right.

“Now you’re going to explain to me just what on Earth is going on,” Hermione said. “You’ve been in a great mood for the last few weeks – what brought this sudden bout of anger on?”

Harry crossed his arms and looked like a sullen three-year-old. “I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Who’s bed?”

Harry’s head snapped up and he saw her smile slightly at him. “Mine,” he snapped.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’ve been seeing someone. Both Ron and I know; you’ve come back to the dorms with messy hair and red cheeks, looking far happier than I’ve seen you in months.”

“I’ve been out flying on my broom,” Harry said, still sullen. He’d been careful when he’d come back after seeing Malfoy – his friends didn’t need to know he was shagging the enemy.

Hermione sighed. “Harry, come on. Work with me.”

Harry felt the anger return. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ve been fucking someone, but it’s over now so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Is that why you’re angry?” Hermione asked. “Because it’s over?”

Harry was quiet. In his mind, he replayed the scene with Malfoy again. He wondered what had made him so angry – considering he was Harry Potter and he could find another shag buddy before the night was over, it really didn’t matter that Malfoy had given him the ultimatum. Harry didn’t need Malfoy in any way, shape or form.

Yet obviously he was affected. He wouldn’t have been so angry otherwise.

No, he told himself, the only reason I was angry was because Malfoy gave me an ultimatum.

Harry sighed.

“Maybe,” he said finally.

Hermione smiled sympathetically. “What happened?”

“He wanted more,” Harry said, shrugging and sinking deeper into the couch.

“More?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “More. You know, the holding hands and the kissing in public and the giving presents and all that crap. The relationship.”

“And you don’t want that?” asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. “No! I can’t do it. I’m not in love with him and besides, with Voldemort and all that, and then there’s the question of which side he’s really on and— I just can’t do it.”

“Then why are you so upset?” Hermione asked gently.

“Because he gave me an ultimatum,” Harry said. “All or nothing. I chose nothing, because I can’t do all.”

Hermione shook her head. Then she said matter-of-factly, “I think you can and you want to but you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve faced Voldemort and a basilisk and— I’m not scared of a stupid relationship with a stupid boy!”

Hermione merely looked at him.

Frustrated, Harry stood up. “He’s an annoying, bitchy, spoiled little git! I don’t want him!”

Malfoy was— he couldn’t even describe what Malfoy was. Irritating, frustrating, sarcastic, funny— no, that was wrong. Malfoy wasn’t funny, he was rude. Whiny, too pale, beautiful—

Harry sighed.

“I’m sure Malfoy has some redeeming qualities,” Hermione said.

“No he doesn’t—” Harry broke off suddenly. His eyes became wide. “You know?”

Hermione shrugged. “I guessed. Ron and I have been trying to figure it out and Malfoy was our top guess.”

“But— how?” asked Harry, floored.

“Let’s see,” said Hermione. “He’s been far less unpleasant in the last few weeks, he’s been looking rather happy, he’s been missing at the same times as you – and it would explain your reluctance to tell us.”

Harry gaped at her.

Hermione giggled, quite unlike her. “Oh Harry, we’re both happy for you. You’ve been so down since Sirius died - we wanted you to find someone.”

“Well I didn’t,” Harry said. “It was never anything and it’s over now.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure, Harry?”

“I’m not in love with him and he wants a relationship,” Harry said. He sat down once more.

“Are you sure you’re not in love with him?”

Harry was about to say ‘yes!’ when something stopped him. A thought, a feeling – something suddenly made him uncertain. He had been happy with Malfoy. He had liked their verbal sparring; it was foreplay without touching each other. It excited him and sometimes it even made him laugh. Malfoy could be terribly funny at times, although some of the subjects he joked about probably shouldn’t be joked with.

He was beautiful.


They hadn’t talked all that much; Harry hadn’t allowed the relationship to become personal. He wondered what he would find below the surface of the cool Malfoy.

Draco, perhaps.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know.”

Hermione smiled softly at him. “Think about it,” she said. She paused, stood up and then, “If you don’t want to go back to the dorms, you can sleep here on the couch.”

Harry accepted the invitation. Returning to the boys’ dormitories seemed an unwelcome idea; Ron would ask what Hermione had said to him and the other boys would be laughing and wanting Harry to join.

Hermione conjured sheets and a pillow for Harry and went to bed herself.

Harry lay awake for hours, wondering how to talk to Draco. Then, unable to sleep, he got up and took a piece of paper from Hermione’s desk.

Of course the paper dragon that he’d spent an hour on didn’t hit its target; despite the charms on it made to find Draco, it instead hit Pansy Parkinson. Harry watched her turn it around and find the text he’d written on it – and read it out loud. He tried to hide behind Ron, who was engaged in conversation about Quidditch with Ginny.

He saw Hermione watch him and felt a blush rise on his face.

Then he watched as Draco came over to Pansy. Draco’s eyes widened as he read the note and he looked up – straight at Harry. Harry didn’t notice the curious glance Pansy shot them, nor the pleased look on Hermione’s face.

Draco stormed over to the Gryffindor table.

“May I have a word with you, Potter?” he asked. His voice was shaking with emotion.

“On one condition,” Harry said with a small smile.

“What?” snapped Draco.

“That you call me by my first name.”

A collective gasp went through the crowd. Draco’s breathing was quick.

Harry stood up, too close to Draco to really be comfortable, but he stayed. They’d been even closer than this before. Many times.

The crowd watched them with great interest, though not all could hear the two boys’ quiet words.

“You’ve ch-changed your mind, then?” asked Draco.

Harry nodded and looked down. “If you’ll accept my apology.”

“I thought I was pathetic to fall in love with you,” Draco said.

Harry shook his head. “You weren’t the one who was pathetic, Draco. I didn’t dare to admit that I was in love – I do believe that gives me the Most Pathetic award.”

Draco chuckled and the tension lessened.

“I accept your apology,” he said quietly. “Though I still think you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“I promise I will,” Harry said with a smile.

Then he pulled Draco in and kissed him soundly while the whole student body watched them. Hermione started clapping her hands and soon everyone was cheering for the two. Harry was certain it wasn’t going to be this easy but at least now he was true to himself.

“I love you,” Draco whispered.

Harry smiled. “I love you too.”

The End

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Author’s notes: I wrote the first scene and a few lines of the second scene of this fic several months ago, but didn’t know where to go with it. Then at work this summer, I suddenly thought, ‘Just do it’, and I did. I didn’t have anything in mind; I simply wrote.

Uho: ear (Croatian)
Tener: hold (Spanish)
…at least according to an online dictionary If not, well... ignore it ;)

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