Drarry One-Shots

I must not tell lies

He walks into Umbridge's office, immediately horrified. There were moving pictures of cats on the pink wall, not to mention the pink, marshmallow-looking woman in the chair behind a desk.

"Hello, Professor." He says curtly. She tells him she is going to have him write lines. He nods, sits, and begins to take out his quill. She stops him, and gives him something else from her desk to write with.

"Mr. Potter, write 'I must not tell lies' as many times as it takes to fill the parchment." (That's not what was said, but it's basically the jist of it.) He nods, and writes it the first time at the top of the parchment.

He feels a scratch on the back of his hand, and looks at it. Scratched into his hand, is what he wrote, in his handwriting, in his blood. He hisses at the pain, but writes it again, just below the last line. This time, the pain in his hand is slightly more intense. He looks at his hand again. In his own blood is 'I must not tell lies,' and he realizes how long of a detention this is going to be.

X.x.x.X

He walks out of the room quickly once she dismisses him. Merlin, is he glad to be out of there. His hand is still bleeding from the words carved into him, and he is sure that it's going to scar. He pulls his sleeve over his hand so no one sees and walks swiftly away.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" He hears Malfoy ask from behind him. He looks at the hall in front of him, seeing it barren of people. He turns to Malfoy, who stands alone in the hall with him.

"Please, I'm not in the mood," Harry says, his voice sounding tired. Draco pauses, his teasing remark falling from his mind as he walks towards Harry.

"What's the matter, Harry? Are you alright?" Harry almost thought it wierd that he cared so much, before remembering they had become friends not long ago.

He starts to say he's fine, but the words die on his lips. I must not tell lies. He looks Draco in the eye and shrugs. He starts to turn away, but stops when he feels a hand grab his elbow. "I asked if you're alright, Harry. What happened with Professor Umbridge?"

Harry sighs and pulls Draco into a nearby empty classroom. He shuts the door, leans against it, and lets out a breath to clear his head. He pulls up his right sleeve to show the boy the words on his hand. Draco, who had been standing a few feet away, was suddenly extremely close to him. Not that he was upset by that.

"What happened?" Draco demanded. He grabbed Harry's slightly outstretched hand, inspecting it. "I must not tell lies? What is that supposed to mean?"

"She thinks I'm lying about Voldemort being back," Harry answers shortly.

"So she carved it into you?" He asks angrily. "My father will hear about this!" Harry laughs at the exclamation.

"No, she had me write lines."

"In your own blood?" He demands. His face was set angrily into an angular masterpiece that Harry, even at this time, wanted nothing more than to kiss. Of course he didn't just think that. Of course not.

Draco took up his hand again, his fingers fumbling with Harry's own, making the boy blush slightly. "Damn, Harry." Is all he said.

Harry notices that they are in a very intimate position. He's leaning against the door, Draco in between his slightly parted knees, holding his hand. Their faces couldn't be more than ten centimeters apart. Draco looks up at him from under his eyelashes.

He takes another small step forward. "Don't get detention again, Harry, please." Harry almost wants to ask why he cares so much, but decides against it. Who knew the Slytherin had such a soft side?

"I'll try, Draco, I'll try." The blond nods in reply.

"Thank you. I hate seeing you hurt."

Harry chuckles, and decides not to say he should get used to it, seeing as the Dark Lord is back and out to get Harry.

Suddenly they both look up at each other. Harry finds himself unable to look away from those stormy grey eyes. That blond hair and porcelain skin steals away any sense of anything outside of the room. All he saw was Draco, with his angular features and graceful movements. He stands up a bit straighter, bringing his face slightly closer to Draco's, inviting him to kiss him.

Draco pushes closer to him, bringing a hand up to lightly touch his cheek. His other hand falls to his waist, holding him in place. "May I kiss you?" Harry feels the boy's breath on his face, taking away his ability to speak. So he nods.

Draco puts his lips to Harry's softly, giving him every chance to push him away. Harry kisses him back. They move together awkwardly at first, before they pull away and look at each other. They move together again, this time more urgent, and with Harry's hands on Draco's neck, and Draco's arms around Harry's waist. They kiss, moving together and pulling apart, together and apart. This goes on for a moment before they pull back.

Draco steps away, Harry's right hand in his own. He looks at the words again and kisses his hand softly. "Dinner started ten minutes ago," he says matter-of-factly.

Harry nods. "We should go then," he says. The other nods, and they walk out of the room, heading for the Great Hall. They get to the big doors leading into the room, and Harry looks at Draco.

His hair is disshelved and messy, and his lips are swollen and red. His robes are slightly wrinkled, and Harry smiles. He can't imagine a better look on the boy.