Just Harry

Part 6

Malfoy breezed into their room, pink-cheeked and glowing. Harry tried not to stare, groaning internally. He would have to say something. He couldn't go on like this.

Harry cleared his throat a few times, trying to force the words out. "Hey, Malfoy—"

But then Malfoy looked at him from where he'd collapsed onto his bed, scarf still wound partway around his neck, and the corner of his mouth lifted up into something between a smile and a smirk, and everything Harry had been about to say fled from his brain, leaving him grasping desperately for something — anything — to say.

"Er," he said, which wasn't what he'd meant to say, and then, "um," which wasn't right either.

Malfoy's smile widened and Harry gave up, shaking his head helplessly.

"Come with me, Potter," Malfoy said, unfolding his lanky body with startling grace as he rose from the bed.

"Er. Where?" Harry asked, only half-listening.

"The ceramics lab," Malfoy said. "I need to work on this project."

"Didn't you just come from there?" Harry frowned. Malfoy never went back to the lab after class. This was a major break in routine.

Malfoy smiled innocently at him. "I forgot something. Come on; I know you're dying to see it."

"Um. All right." Harry had to admit he was curious about what drew Malfoy to the ceramics lab most nights; what left him smiling and self-satisfied. But he'd never asked to accompany him, and Malfoy had never offered. It was something that belonged to Malfoy, and Harry hadn't wanted to cross that line. But he certainly wasn't going to turn it down. Especially not if satisfying his curiosity would keep that smile on Malfoy's face.

He trailed after Malfoy as they crossed the darkened campus, wishing for the anonymity of his invisibility cloak.

"Here we are," Malfoy said, ducking into an unassuming building at the edge of campus.

It wasn't what he was expecting, exactly. He stopped in the doorway to stare around the large, open space, scattered with tables and pottery wheels. Against its walls were open shelves holding projects in all stages of completion. The bare concrete floor was speckled with spatters of dried clay and spots of colored glazes.

He would never have pictured Malfoy in a space like this, but he fit into it like he did nowhere else. Malfoy belonged there, Harry thought, as he watched him move purposefully about, gathering supplies and getting settled at a wheel in the corner.

He followed when Malfoy beckoned, perching awkwardly on a stool next to Malfoy's wheel. He quickly became mesmerized by the sight of Malfoy's long, pale fingers kneading the clay.

Then he set the wheel to spinning and Harry became entranced as he watched a graceful bowl seem to spring into existence like magic beneath Malfoy's hands.

Malfoy stopped the wheel and nodded, inspecting the bowl. Then he set it aside and turned to Harry, the light in his eyes making him look years younger.

"Now, you try."

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

"Go on; you heard me." He slapped a blob of clay onto the wheel in front of Harry.

"I can't. I don't even know where to begin," Harry said, staring helplessly at the blob. He wouldn't even know how to use magic to transform it.

"I'll show you."

Harry shivered as Malfoy moved behind him, spinning him around to face the wheel properly. He placed his hands over Harry's, and Harry was struck by the contrast of their skin.

"That's it," Malfoy whispered, breath stirring the hairs at the back of his neck and body pressed against his back. "Now."

He set the wheel to spinning, guiding Harry's hands over the clay. For an instant it seemed to be working, and then the clay wrenched out of his hands and spun crazily around, off-center.

Harry stared. "Argh. What did I do?"

Malfoy snickered, breath hot against his neck. "You need to center it first."

"How the hell do I do that?" Harry croaked, body aflame with sensation.

Malfoy replaced the clay, laid his hands over Harry's again, and propped his chin on his shoulder.

"Here. I'll help you."

This time, Malfoy applied more pressure, enough that Harry expected the clay to go flying across the room, but instead it wobbled a bit and then suddenly centered. The impossible rightness of it sang through Harry's blood, magnified by the heightened sensitivity of his skin.

"Malfoy—" he whispered.

"Shhh," Malfoy breathed against his skin. "Just watch."

The bowl grew slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, and then suddenly it formed, magical and inevitable.

Malfoy slowly pulled Harry's hands away and stopped the wheel. They both watched as the bowl spun before them, slowing to a halt. Malfoy leaned infinitesimally closer.

"There," he said, satisfied, and Harry turned, heedless of the bowl, and caught his lips in a scorching kiss.

"Malfoy," he breathed, pulling away slowly, hands untangling from his hair. Malfoy had streaks of clay across his cheeks, and...

"I got clay in your hair," Harry whispered, horrified. "I'll—"

Malfoy stopped him. "Leave it," he said, pulling Harry back toward him. "I don't care."

Harry thought fuzzily that that was very suspicious, as Malfoy was very vain about his hair — and then when he could think again, he thought that maybe it wasn't all that suspicious after all.

"Screw chocolates," Malfoy mumbled, when they finally parted for air. "I'll have to buy her diamonds."

Harry just nodded, hoping that this would result in more kissing.

He wasn't disappointed.