分卷阅读28（1 / 2）

Draco moved slightly to the right in order to start getting off Harry but froze when he realized what position he’d put them in. Just inches away from Harry, he could feel Harry’s breath on his face, and could look directly into the emerald orbs of his eyes.

Neither would ever remember who moved first, but someone did, closing the inches between them, lips coming together as if drawn together by polar attraction. Satin caressing silk, someone moaned. Mouths open, tongues twisting together in a sensual dance. Time seemed to stand still. Aristocratic hands found their way around his slim waist as other hands buried themselves in silken hair. Draco purred. Harry hissed in pleasure.

Ron, walking through the door, was speaking, not that anyone really heard him. “Oi, Harry, how much time does it take to—OH MERLIN! MY EYES!”

Two pairs of eyes drifted upwards towards a very scandalized redhead. The green ones were apologetic, the silver-grey annoyed.

“Sorry Ron?” Harry’s statement was more of a question.

“Weasley, what the bloody hell are you doing in my bedroom!” Draco growled.

“Well I came in here to see how long it was going to take Harry to get his book, but I see instead he was otherwise occupied,” Ron shot back.

“Then you can walk back out, can’t you?” Draco sneered. “I don’t want you in my personal space.”

“The only one in your ‘personal space’ right now is Harry, Malfoy, and you don’t look too upset about that.”

And while Draco and Ron bantered back and forth, with Draco still on top of Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived was trying to find a way to keep the blush off his face while simultaneously trying not to be turned on too much by the velvet quality of Draco’s voice which became prominent when he was angry.

Chapter 16: Foundations Crumble

Harry and Ron had finally gotten to the library, after the whole event in Draco and Harry’s rooms, and Harry was just starting his Potions essay (at three in the afternoon on the day before it was due) when Ron finally got up the nerve to speak what had been on his mind for half an hour before this point, to Harry. Harry blinked at him, disbelief clearly written across his features.

“Ron, you have got to be kidding. Did you eat something that Fred or George sent you? You know that it’s an ‘at best’ situation if Dr-Malfoy and I hate each other.”

Ron chose to ignore Harry’s slip-up when he’d said Malfoy’s name and just looked at his friend skeptically. “I don’t know how things looked from your end, mate, but all I’m telling you is that it didn’t look like you two hated each other from where I was standing. That’s all. Just forget I said it, okay? I’m certainly going to forget I saw it.” Ron looked slightly disgusted as he tried not to remember it.

Of course, after hearing that kind of a statement from Ron of all people, Harry couldn’t concentrate on Potions (a class he had with Draco). So, in the politest way he could with his mind on other things, he left his friends in the library and went in search of his Firebolt to go flying and clear his head.

Hermione watched him go with a puzzled expression and turned to Ron the second Harry had disappeared out the door. “What happened?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Ron almost sighed at the prospect of having to relive that scene yet again, but began to tell her.

Down in the dungeons, Draco was just finishing explaining what had happened to his father, who (if he had been looking, which by the way he wasn’t) looked mildly amused at his son’s plight.