DRACO MALFOY’S STUPID DECISION.

 

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It was eight o’clock in the morning, Draco Malfoy felt exceptionally stupid, and it was all Potter’s fault.

 

Maybe he could blame it on sleep depravation – that was supposed to make you go insane, after all. Or maybe he was under some twisted freak’s spell. Maybe he was really dreaming still, or hallucinating from sleep depravation, or really, really sick with some foreign virus that would grant him some release and strike him dead within twenty minutes.

 

“…this didn’t happen, Malfoy,” Harry Potter said, face just as crimson as the horrifically Gryffindor scarf he was strangling between his hands.

 

“You make it sound like something DID,” Malfoy sneered, hoping he wasn’t equally flushed and that he had at least a bit more dignity than bloody Potter. God, he was a Slytherin, and a MALFOY, and this was beneath him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter.”

 

“Like I’d want to, Malfoy,” Potter managed to choke out from his vibrant blush.

 

“If you don’t want to why are you still in here,” Malfoy hissed out, knowing damn well that this situation would end up even more humiliating and STUPID if Potter didn’t do what was intelligent (then again, never his strong suit) and leave.

 

And, proof of his dazzling intellect, Potter just blinked and said “Er.”

 

“Potter, GET OUT,” Malfoy snapped, and tried to glare him into obedience. It’d never worked before, but there was always a first time for everything and by GOD he deserved to get at least something out of this whole ordeal.

 

“Uh,” Potter said instead, shifting his wait, expression turning from horrified/embarrassed to almost sheepish. “You’re, er, in the shower.”

 

Malfoy barely avoided slapping a hand to his eyes from the sheer stupidity of the situation. “Brilliant.”

 

“Why are you in my shower, Malfoy?” Potter finally hissed out. Although it was commendable he was speaking again, he was STILL STANDING THERE.

 

“Crabbe got sick in mine,” Malfoy grimaced, and Potter was smart enough to cringe at the possible implications. “God, it was filthy, and the worthless house elves were taking care of some explosion in the common room so they didn’t have the TIME to do it, bloody midgets, so I had to find another shower.”

 

“…why are you in my shower, Malfoy?” Potter asked warily.

 

Draco Malfoy felt horrifically stupid again.

 

“…why shouldn’t I be?” Malfoy said, feeling almost triumphant at the turn around. “And honestly, Potter, it isn’t just your shower. It’s a prefect bathroom, and I’m a prefect. So why shouldn’t I be here, Potter?”

 

Potter frowned. “Because Ravenclaw’s prefect bathroom is about one flight of stairs away from the Slytherin entrance?”

 

Oh god, Malfoy wanted to die. It would benefit his House, to be rid of someone who could be this fucking idiotic.

 

Normally, Draco Malfoy thought things through. He was cunning, and not as ruddy impulsive as the Gryiffindors and only did things when he knew he wouldn’t get caught and stared at in the shower that was still running and especially not by Harry Potter, Boy Who Grew Up To Be A Fucking Adonis In Glasses.

 

But, instead of admitting why he was really in the stall that screamed ‘I BELONG TO HARRY POTTER, HERE, LOOK AT HIS SHAMPOO AND SOAP THAT YOU CAN SMELL ACROSS THE RUDDY GREAT HALL’ he said “I don’t see why I need to justify myself to you.” Because he was just that good.

 

“Fine then,” Potter glared.

 

And then he started stripping.

 

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Malfoy shouted out, practically cowering in the corner of the shower, only to get a Look from Potter. “PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON, YOU-”

 

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Potter snapped, and there went the pants and oh god this was bad. “I have class in a half hour, and I came in here for a shower, and I am NOT leaving without one.”

 

The shirt fell to the floor, and yes Malfoy knew he was staring but could you BLAME him? Potter was all wiry muscle from Quiddich captaining and battling dark lords and fending off werewolves and god this was going to get even worse, wasn’t it.

 

“Potter, I will hex you into oblivion if you get in here with me,” Malfoy said, praying his voice wasn’t as telling as his body probably was. This was so humiliating.

 

He could hear as Har-POTTER’s boxers fell to the floor. And when he took off his glasses and set them casually on top of the pile.

 

But like HELL was he going to look.

 

“God, Malfoy, don’t be such a baby,” Potter mocked him. “You’re on the Quiddich, so don’t act like you’ve never done this before.”

 

Potter with Wood. Potter with the Weasley twins. Oh god, Potter with WEASLEY. Potter with three Weasleys, Potter with all FOUR of them oh god this was horrible.

 

The curtain that Potter had so casually pushed to the side in a morning daze swished closed. Finally.

 

“Christ, I don’t have cooties, Malfoy,” Potter snapped at him and FUCK that was his arm over Malfoy’s shoulder as the shampoo that he could smell from so far away was squirted out onto one of those gorgeous hands and Malfoy growled.

 

“I KNOW you don’t have cooties, you freak,” he bit out, and with another dash of that horrible impulsiveness grabbed Potter’s soap. Sure, he was glaring at the stonework of the shower but it felt good to know he was killing something with his eyes. Or at least making it squirm. “It’s your mental functions I’m worried about you missing.”

 

“Oh, how sweet,” Potter deadpanned. “I never knew you cared.”

 

“Like hell I do!” Malfoy spat out, hating that he’d lost his cool, hating that everything smelled like HARRY FUCKING POTTER and the bastard himself was probably just a few inches behind him and Malfoy couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “The only thing I care about is if you’d prefer to be buried or cremated for after I’ve KILLED you.”

 

“…Malfoy, are you blushing?” Potter’s voice, amused and incredulous, was so close that he could feel the breath from it.

 

“Are you so masochistic you want me to castrate you with the showerhead?” Malfoy hissed.

 

“….no?” Oh god, it was a question the way he said it. “Are you just going to try and kill my soap or can I use it now?”

 

“You’ll get your fucking soap when I’m damn well good and ready, you ponce,” Malfoy shouted, and proceeded to get a good lather going in his hands, trying to ignore how fucking hard he was. “You and your ruddy soap, I swear…”

 

“You ARE blushing,” Potter exclaimed, clearly stunned at the concept. “You’re so red it’s on your…uh…er…”

 

Instinct took over. Malfoy pivoted, setting a steely glare on Potter as he sneered, “on my what, Potter?”

 

Which caused Potter to get an eyeful of Malfoy’s growing erection (which he didn’t think was even POSSIBLE from where he’d been and god it almost HURT) and Malfoy to see a very wet, very turned-on Potter getting said eyeful.

 

“…uh,” Harry said eloquently.

 

“Shit,” Draco breathed out, and then Harry Potter kissed him.

 

It wasn’t a nice kiss, but god was it hot. Their lips smashed together, Draco was smashed against the wall, and then Harry was smashed against him in a nice tight packing job that Draco didn’t mind in the least as his arms snaked around to Harry’s back. And when Harry’s tongue snuck into Draco’s mouth and decided it wanted to be everywhere all at once Draco didn’t mind that either, especially since his hands were on Harry Potter’s gorgeous ass that even those horribly bland school robes couldn’t hide, pressing them closer together and getting a moan out of both mouths as they rubbed against each other.

 

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry hissed out, eyes almost rolling back into his head as Draco decided to do it again, it was just that lovely. Sure, he missed Harry’s tongue, but when that mouth decided it wanted to suck the life out of Draco’s neck in a way that sent a delicious tingling sensation down his spine and straight to his groin, bringing a harsh gasp leaping out of his throat.

 

“Why the hell are you taller than me,” Draco panted, rocking against Harry again, and if this kept going he’d probably be seeing stars soon. “God, that’s so unfair.”

 

“Now is NOT the t-time, Malfoy,” Harry managed to get out, mouth traveling upwards and liberally driving Draco insane as he bit and sucked and nibbled and kissed at the skin behind his ear, a hand fisting in wet platinum blond hair.

 

“Then why do you SMELL so good?” Draco hissed, biting Harry’s shoulder almost viciously, eyes fluttering as they ground against each other at some godsend of a rhythm that they could both agree on.

 

“Her-Hermi-ione’s old sha-ampoo,” Harry growled, dragging his fingers down Draco’s side in a glorious, glorious way that sent shivers all through his body. “HOW CAN YOU TALK L-LIKE THIS?”

 

“Because I’m a sodding MALFOY,” Draco said quickly, roughly, and all in one short breath. “We ARE c-c-composureohmyfuckingGOD-MMMMM”

 

Apparently Harry did have some brains because his tongue was back in Draco’s mouth, where it belonged, and was turning Draco’s brain to mush. And when Harry’s other hand cradled Draco’s ass, middle finger juuuust between his cheeks pressing down in a way he couldn’t even begin to describe spots flew through his vision as he came HARD and to try and keep from screaming out Harry’s name in a barely-lucid fit of insanity he bit down HARD on Harry’s shoulder, hard enough to almost draw blood, and for some reason Harry found that fucking hot and with a rolling shiver came all over Draco, and the barely lucid thought ‘well, at least we’re in a shower’ came rollicking drunkenly through Draco Malfoy’s stupid, stupid brain.

 

For a while, they just stood there, panting and sticky and leaning against each other. Draco realized he was practically wrapped around Harry, and assumably Harry realized he had a finger rubbing against Draco’s ass because it moved away rather sluggishly and they both looked at ANYTHING other than each other.

 

“Er…” Harry Potter said uncomfortably-but-not-terribly-unhappy.

 

“Fuck,” Draco Malfoy breathed out in a stunned-and-flabbergasted-but-not-terribly-horrified way.

 

“Uh…can I, er, have the soap now maybe?” he said against Draco’s shoulder, which would probably have a nasty bruise and maybe a couple bite marks on it.

 

“I don’t think so,” Draco drawled casually, hands finally dropping to his sides as he grudgingly admitted it was maybe good that Harry Potter was taller than him (but only in some cases). “Maybe later.”

 

“…okay then, I guess,” Harry said.

 

If Draco Malfoy felt the smile against his skin, he chose to ignore it. He’d already been stupid enough; he didn’t need to throw in the possibility of it being not so stupid after all just yet.