Talk Dirty to Me

"What the fuck?" Draco Malfoy exclaimed as he suddenly bumped into something warm and solid.

"Fucking people can't even...Malfoy?" Harry Potter asked in confusion as he bounced off the blonde's chest.

"No, I'm Luna fucking Lovegood, what do you think?"

"Shut the hell up, Malfoy, its fucking dark in this damn castle."

"Because it's midnight! What the hell are you doing up this late, Potter? Looking for someone who needs saving?" Draco asked, looking in the direction he thought Harry was in as he groped in his pocket for his wand.

"I was just...well, I was...fine. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to walk around for a bit," Harry replied, also reaching for his wand. "What the hell are you doing out this bloody late?"

"Lumos," Draco muttered, squinting in the sudden light, then drawing himself up to his full height. "I, Potter, am a school prefect, and as such I have certain responsibilities that I must fulfill. I was doing my rounds. In fact, I should be taking points from Gryffindor for you nearly attacking me!"

Draco smirked; baiting Potter was too much fun.

"You git! What the fuck would you do that for? You ran into me just as hard as I ran into you!"

Draco continued smirking and shrugged nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because I can and you can't?" He offered, a mischievous glint in his silver eyes.

"Bloody prat," Harry mumbled, finally locating his wand. "Lumos."

"Wanker," Draco shot back, now sneering at Harry's appearance. While Draco was fully clothed in his school robes, Harry stood before him in nothing but a pair of low-slung, black sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt, with his hair even more wild than usual. In all actuality, it gave him a bit of a just-fucked look that Draco found rather attractive, but he'd never admit to it.

Harry opened his mouth to deliver his answering insult, but Draco sprang forward with the quick reflexes of a Seeker and clamped his hand over Harry's mouth.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Someone's coming."

Harry pulled his mouth away from Draco's hand and nodded curtly in understanding. He quickly put out his wand-light and moved closer to Draco to stand in the light.

"Follow me, Potter," Malfoy hissed, tiptoeing along the corridor, Harry right behind him. Draco quickly located what he was looking for as footsteps became more audible behind them, quickly grabbed a door handle, and shoved Harry inside. He followed Harry into the tiny broomcloset, but unfortunately tripped on the threshold and nearly landed on his face. With reflexes as quick as Draco's own, Harry quickly caught him, but his wand clattered to the floor and the light went out completely.

"Fuck," he growled into the darkness, righting himself and leaning against the wall across from Harry in an attempt to get away from his touch. He failed, however, because the closet was so tiny that even with both boys pressed against opposite walls, their legs were still tangled together and their chests brushed together every time one of them inhaled.

"Smallest fucking closet I've ever been in," Harry mumbled.

"Just how many closets have you been in, Saint Potter?" Draco asked, covering his genuine curiosity with his usual snark.

"I lived in a fucking cupboard for the first eleven years of my life, Malfoy. I hit my head every damn time I sat up and this is still smaller than that!" Harry replied hotly, clearly aggravated.

Draco was silent for a few moments, thrown completely off guard by Harry's revelation that he'd lived in a cupboard.

"I thought those were just rumors," he finally said lamely.