I Dare You DRARRY

Chapter Four: The Boys Figure it Out Part 1

Harry sat in his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Last night at the Hufflepuff party, things had gotten a little crazy. More than crazy, really. Harry wiped his eyes and stared at the rest of his sleeping dorm mates. They hadn't helped, either. Ron had just sat there and let it happen.

He couldn't believe that he had fallen for Draco Malfoy.

Okay, maybe fallen was too strong of a word. But really, Harry had started to like Draco. Draco. As in Draco Malfoy.

"Hey mate, you okay?" Ron mumbled from his bed next to Harry's.

"Yeah, just thinking. Why?" Harry quickly turned over in bed, because just thinking about Draco....and the events of the Hufflepuff party...made his trousers painfully tight.

"Because you look...I dunno...lost. Are you worried about something?" Ron's voice had taken on a worried tone, and Harry almost screamed at him.

Of course there was something wrong! He, Harry, had fallen for the enemy. Granted, they weren't on different sides anymore, and everyone else seemed to be okay with it, but that didn't mean he was.

Six years of torment couldn't be erased, could they?

"Not really. I just can't sleep. Don't worry about it Ron, I think I'm just going to go to the kitchens and have Dobby make me something." Harry sat up in bed, wincing at the cold air around him. It was definitely winter now.

"Okay, mate. Hope you feel better..." Ron's awareness had already faded, and by the time Harry had gotten out of bed, Ron was snoring softly.

Harry quietly snuck past the Fat Lady, snoozing in her portrait, and shuffled his way down the corridors. His invisibility cloak shushed softly wherever he walked, and Harry relaxed.

Hogwarts had always seemed more peaceful at night. The hallways were dark, yes, but the darkness was a welcoming darkness. Harry had never been afraid of the dark, so the dark, ornamented hallways had never frightened him. The presence of the sleeping portraits was reassuring, in ways that during the day were often overlooked by the busy tides of students.

Harry took the long way to the kitchen portrait, taking old, familiar shortcuts and detours. This year was his last year in school, and he wanted to savor what precious moments he had alone in it.

Plus, it gave him time to think of what to do about Malfoy.

Harry groaned. Just thinking about him had him excited, and Harry wasn't even sure if he wanted to be excited. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn't.

But what could he do about the situation, really?

He couldn't quit the game. Doing that would be like social suicide, and it would be seen as a weakness. All of his friends, and a couple of seventh years that he didn't know so well, were in the game, and so was Malfoy. And to not show, and have Malfoy win the competition by default? No way.

Harry stopped short. Since when had the game become a competition?

Since Malfoy had given him that smile during the Hufflepuff party. Since the moment when Hermione had daringly teased him into stripping for Malfoy.

It wasn't like it truly mattered, though. Harry just had to beat Malfoy. He wasn't sure what it was he was trying to beat, but he knew that it was something.

Draco paced in front of the Slytherin common room fireplace, his thoughts unsettled. His dreams had been fragmented and fleeting, and all of them had been centered around Harry Potter.

What was it about Harry that had Draco nearly coming apart at the seams? Yes, Harry was attractive. Yes, he was the 'savior' of the Wizarding world. But really, why did the thought of kissing Harry, of fucking Harry, cause him to grow hard, and get anxious, at the same time?

It was maddening. And the girls weren't helpful in the slightest. At every corner Pansy was there taunting him, giving him sly glances whenever Draco even so much as glanced in Harry's general direction.

And classes were awkward too, to say the least. Since all the seventh years had eradicated rivalries and made one conglomerate "group", the awkwardness that surrounded him and Harry was even more pronounced.

Maybe some food would help. Food always seemed to help him in the Manor, during the war.

If Draco was really nice, Dobby might even let him make it himself.

Harry sat down in one of the armchairs by the kitchen fires, sighing softly. He shut his eyes, enjoying the bliss. Yes, this was what he needed. The smells of the kitchen wafting through the room, and the absence of Harry's problems.

"Harry?"

Harry scrunched his eyes shut tighter. There was no way.

"Harry, is that you?"

Harry opened his eyes and found himself face to face with the one person who he had been trying to escape.

Draco Malfoy.