professor? ( ✓ )

chapter eight

Harry awoke confused the next morning, not quite registering where he was. Then, he realized he was in the sitting room of he and Malfoy's living quarters, and his robes had been placed on top of him. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head and realized he had to have a piss.

He stood up and rushed towards he and the blond Slytherin's private restroom, and stepped inside as the door had been cracked open. As he messed with the zip on his trousers, he heard a startled gasp and turned to find Draco Malfoy staring back at him, having just stepped from the shower.

A dark green towel was wrapped tightly around his waist, and his blond hair was darker due to the water. It was also slightly dripping down his shoulders, and Harry found himself rather fascinated by one water droplet that fell from Malfoy's bangs, and then stopped at his collarbone momentarily before slipping down his pale, scarred chest and over his pink, risen nipple.

"Ahem," the blond muttered, and Harry then came to his senses and realized he was staring. He blushed, caught the wizard's eyes for a moment, and then realized his hand was still on his zip.

"I didn't know you were in here." The dark-haired wizard with hair even messier than usual claimed, turning around as a fiercer blush tinted his cheeks.

"Didn't know I was in here? Potter, the bloody door was closed!" Malfoy exclaimed, feet still in place as he stared at the wizard who looked so different without ridiculous, rounded glasses covering his face.

"It was opened a crack. I thought- I'm sorry, but I have to have a piss. Can we just pretend this didn't happen?" Harry asked, cheeks still burning.

"You're still in here. It happened." The blond muttered, but hurried past him so Harry could have a piss in private. Once he'd stepped from the room, he considered invading the Gryffindor professor's privacy like he had done to him, but decided against it, as he didn't much fancy seeing whatever Potter was packing below.

He heard the toilet flush, and decided it was safe to reenter the restroom as he watched Potter wash his hands. Once he'd dried them, he left the restroom and Draco was left with a pink tint of his own covering his cheeks, noticing his towel had slipped only slightly, but enough to reveal the  inward curves of his thighs, leading towards his own private parts.

  ~△⃒⃘~

Breakfast was awkward for both of the wizards that morning, as well as the rest of the day that followed. At meals, they avoided conversation unless absolutely necessary, and later that night, Harry went to bed without muttering a word towards the blond.

As Draco would usually like this silence that was coming from the Gryffindor's lips, he found that this was rather unnerving. He wished desperately that he wouldn't have walked in on him that morning, and even if he had, that at least Draco would just stay put in the shower until Potter was done. He laid in bed that night on his back, gazing at the top of his four poster bed distractedly.

What was going on with him?

  ~△⃒⃘~

It was Friday, and therefore the first installment of the all new Dueling Club, presented by Professors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The students chatted through the corridors excitedly, awaiting their afternoon classes to end so they could go to join the club.

The club itself consisted of multiple higher years, and a select few second years. First years had been prohibited from joining, but that didn't seem to stop Madeline Morgan, Terry Belski, and Issac Warren from witnessing it from behind a pillar.