Just Not Cut Out for Torture (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 13: A Malfoy's Hair Is Never Frizzy

This chapter is almost entirely fluff. You've been warned. :-)

Draco POV

Draco stretched his arms, groaning, reveling in the soft slide of sheets against his skin. He didn't open his eyes, carefully not thinking of anything except the lazy feeling of waking up far later than he usually did. His arm didn't hurt – he felt, distantly, that it should, though he pushed the thought away before he could examine it. It was far too close to... other things he didn't wish to remember.

Then his arm brushed against... something. Something warm. Don't think about it don't think about it don't – but it was too late. His eyes blinked open, no matter how hard he screamed at himself to keep them shut. Grey eyes met languid green ones, disheveled mop of hair, lazy smile... and it all came rushing back. Draco shut his eyes tight against the suddenly too-bright glare. He curled into a ball, willing himself to disappear. Willing Potter to go away.

After a tense moment in which nothing happened, curiosity got the better of him. He cracked one eye open, only to see Potter's smile deepen into a smirk. Dammit.

"Potter..."

"Draco. The least you could do is call me Harry."

"...fine. Harry."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Harry started laughing. The git. And then something in Draco cracked, and he felt his own laughter bubble out.

Harry sobered. "How's your arm?"

Draco looked down. "I... fine. It doesn't hurt."

Harry nodded. "Good."

"Is it?" Draco panicked. "What if they know where we are? What if they're coming for us right now. What if – "

"Draco." Harry put a finger against Draco's lips, neatly silencing his frantic babbling.

Draco meant to say "yes." I did. But the word died on his lips, and instead, to his utter mortification, he kissed Harry's finger gently. Then he curled up in a ball again.

After a moment of stunned silence, in which Draco employed every curse word he'd ever learnt, and some he made up on the spot, Harry snorted.

"Did you just kiss me?"

Draco forgot to be mortified. "That was not a kiss."

"No?" Harry raised one eyebrow, clearly disbelieving.

"No. This is a kiss."

And Draco did the single most utterly stupid thing of his entire life. He grabbed Harry's shirt collar, dragged him close, and kissed him. Really kissed him.

And it. Was. Fantastic.

When he finally pulled away, Harry had turned an interesting shade of crimson.

"Ah," he said, rather more eloquently than Draco had expected. And then, "Er," as he raised a shaking finger to his lips, touching them wonderingly.

Draco snorted at the bumbling idiot, even as he failed to keep his own lips from splitting into a wide grin.

"And that is how you kiss, Potter," he said, imitating the snooty tone that he had once used as a matter of course.

He looked up to meet Harry's eyes, just in time to see him blink slowly. "...Harry." He corrected mildly. And then his lip quirked, just a bit, and Draco felt his own lips quirk to match, and then they were both beaming like fools.