An Issue of Consequence

Chapter 2

Draco grabbed Potter's shoulders and shoved him off. Potter looked surprised, frowning between Draco's face and Draco's hands that held Potter at a safe distance.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco whispered even though he meant to yell. His throat was dry and his voice low, and his lips felt full, hot and tingling. It made talking difficult.

"It's called kissing." Potter cocked his head. "Or snogging if you prefer. But I heard you can't use that term seriously after you've turned seventeen."

Now that Potter was no longer kissing him, Draco's mind was clearer. Clear enough for him to be really fucking pissed off. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's not funny." Draco was pleased to hear his voice sounded calm and threatening this time.

It had no effect on Potter, however. He merely smiled. "Well, there was something I wanted to pull, and I definitely didn't count on you laughing about it. So I think we're on the same page."

Draco blinked at Potter's smiling face, lost for words. Potter was flirting so blatantly it was impossible to misunderstand. Which meant he had gone quite mad. Or someone put him up to it through magical means. Or Draco was going mad, and this wasn't even happening.

"Er." Potter looked down at Draco's hands. "Have you been working out? Because that's quite a grip you have there. Pretty soon I'll have to say Ow." Potter bit his lip. "In a very turned on way, of course."

Potter was not only mad, his madness was contagious. Draco could feel himself giving in, wanting nothing more than to just let go and let Potter flirt with him and kiss him as much as he wanted.

Draco's arms lost their strength. Potter approached, his hands on Draco's chest again, his smiling mouth tantalisingly close.

"See? I'm irresistible."

He really was. At least Draco couldn't resist him when Potter bent his head to the side and pressed his warm lips to Draco's neck, sucking and licking the tender spot below Draco's ear. Potter's teeth grazed his skin, and Draco shivered, his hips bucking only to be stopped by Potter's grip. When had Potter managed to get his hands there, Draco didn't know, but it seemed like the most perfect spot for them. Something fiery and intense clenched his insides every time he tried to move and Potter didn't let him.

"I hate robes," Potter mumbled, nipping on Draco's jaw, his palms dragging against the fabric of Draco's robes, up and down and around his waist and hips, as though in desperate search for an opening they could break through. It made Draco hate robes, too, with a passion he normally reserved for... Well, for Potter. "Would you mind terribly if I rip them?" Potter asked, breathless, his lips close to Draco's again. He pulled Draco's bottom lip between his teeth, bit down lightly, then licked and sucked the sore skin. Draco caught himself making a pathetic whimpering sound. It scared him so much he pushed Potter away again.

Potter didn't seem overly concerned; Draco didn't manage to push him very far. Potter's hands were still firm on Draco's hips.

"You worry about your clothes too much," Potter told him, in a fond sort of way that only added to Draco's confusion.

"It's not my clothes I'm worried about," Draco said. He was more worried about his sanity. This wasn't actually happening, surely. It was all in his head.

Potter's face filled with genuine concern. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Um. You sexually assaulting me is pretty wrong, I think."

Unexpectedly, Potter laughed. "You're right. I am rather grabby, aren't I?" He pressed closer with a wicked gleam in his eyes and lowered his voice as he said, "I heard you like that sort of thing."

Draco blinked, appalled. "I do not!"

Potter seemed to find that funny, too. "Well, then... My mistake. Perhaps you'd prefer to sexually assault me? I do like that sort of thing." With a grin, he spun them around so that he was the one pressed against the wall. It made Draco dizzy. "Go on, then," Potter said. "Have at it. You're welcome to rip my clothes off."

That was just about the most tempting offer Draco had ever heard in his entire life. His fingers itched to point his wand at Potter's clothes and rip them to shreds.

Except it felt like an evil overlord just offered him a million Galleons for no reason at all, and if he agreed he'd surely end up selling his soul.

But then again... Potter looked so excited and willing, with his full lips parted and his pupils blown wide, maybe it was worth selling his soul. It probably shouldn't reach such a high price, anyway.

Draco took out his wand and pointed it at Potter, already imagining him naked. But there was something about him standing there with a wand in his hand and Potter's green gaze looking back that reminded him — he was Draco Malfoy and this was Harry Potter. They didn't meet in cupboards to rip each other's clothes off and have sex. This was some sort of joke. One that would be on him if he showed any weakness.

Draco gripped his wand more firmly. "Stay away from me, Potter," he said. "Or next time, I'll break your nose. Again."

With that, he spun around, opened the door, and ran for the safety of his dormitory.