DISCLAIMER: This story is based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books, which are created and owned, by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended. Not mine, except for the plot.

Summary: From zed's ANALogy and TOPology Potterverse
Harry and Draco spent some quality time together in a disused equipment storeroom with disastrous results. Will Harry be able to save the day yet again, and live up to his boast: "Don't worry. I will be."? Featuring Delinquent!Harry and Smug!Draco, sarcastic classmates and the dreaded best-friend-from-Hell, ItchyFist!Ron.

A/N: Heartfelt thanks to Starkiller for her immaculate beta.

Draco Malfoy came back slowly into consciousness. He was suddenly aware that the left side of his cheek was stuck to the stone floor, his knees tucked under his chest and his school jumper bunched up at his armpits.

He groaned softly, rolling onto his side and winced as the bare skin of his torso made contact with the cold floor. He opened one eye slowly, trying to gather his scattered wits. The room -- wherever it was -- was very dark.

A chuckle came from his right. Draco opened his other eye.

Damn, foiled again, his inner voice chided. Good time to pass out, Malfoy. So much for your self-control.

Draco groaned again and rolled onto his back, hands pressed into the hollow of his eyes. He concentrated; what the hell happened here? He let out a pathetic whimper for effect. Where the hell was here, anyway?

He rose on one elbow, an arm thrown across his forehead, feigning a pose of a damsel in distress.

'Where am I?' he quivered, and paused for dramatic effect.

A snort came from a darkened corner of the room.

'"Where am I?"' a voice mocked him, followed by a hearty chuckle. 'What kind of stupid question is that, Malfoy?'

Damn. Potter.

Draco glared into the darkness and started to sit up, slowly pulling his jumper down. Then he became aware of a sudden draft on his lower half. He looked down in shock - his trousers were halfway down his knees. Shit! He blushed furiously.

'You are such a bloody wimp, Draco,' said Harry, as he crouched beside the prone boy. He was industriously polishing his glasses on the edge of his shirt. 'Did you faint?'

Draco fought an urge to slap Harry hard; but that would be so - gay. He settled for a glare instead. Harry put on his glasses and pushed them up his nose, grinning at him. Draco was very tempted to knock the glasses off, but that would be so childish. He settled instead for a silent fume. Harry looked at him from behind the stylish glasses. Gone was the round NHS model, Harry now sported one of those slick styles that made him look, in Draco's opinion, like a gay gangster. And the Boy Who Lived had a behavioural pattern to match that.

'Did not.'

'Did too.'

Harry reached out and tousled his hair roughly, causing Draco to yelp and jerk his head away. He succeeded in toppling sideways with an oompf!

'Put your trousers back on, Draco. We have Care of Magical Creatures in ten minutes,' Harry told him with a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Draco scrabbled for his trousers, and his hand fell on the sticky patch on his belly. He grimaced in disgust. 'Ugh. Yeecch. Fuck you, Harry.'

Harry howled with laughter, which subsided into a choking cough, partly due to his 20 sticks a day habit.

'Bastard,' Draco hissed, wiping the soiled hand on the floor. A sudden memory made him wince in embarrassment. Perhaps it was his fault after all. He had been the one who lured Harry into the unused equipment storeroom, intent on trying out a new - ahem - experiment on the dark-haired Adonis. But he had not expected to be the one ending up face down on the floor with his trousers pooled around his knees and semen drying in sticky patches on his belly.

A sudden flare of light made him wince, and the smell of tobacco invaded his nostrils. Harry held out the cigarette to him and lit another one for himself. Draco took the proffered stick and stuck it in the right corner of his mouth. He was lying on his back, bare from waist down and he sensed Harry's gaze raking over his body. He quickly pulled up his trousers before the dark haired boy decided to do something wicked to him again.

'So, how was it, Draco?' said Harry, a tinge of amusement colouring his voice. 'Was the demo okay? Did it meet your specification?'

'Er,' Draco face coloured. 'I didn't expect to be on the receiving end,' he finished lamely as he sat up with exaggerated care.

Harry snorted. 'Gah, you may top me in Potions, but at Quidditch and this,' Harry waved his arms in an expansive gesture. 'You'll always be bottom, Draco love.'

'Why?' Draco whined plaintively.

Harry rolled his eyes in mock horror. 'Draco, Draco, Draco,' he sighed dramatically. 'Isn't it obvious? Because. You. Love. It.'

'What? Being bottom all the time?' he asked, feeling rather awkward at Harry's spot on psychoanalysis.

Harry grinned and nodded as he stood up. He cracked his neck and loosened his jaws lazily like an indolent lion. He held out a hand to Draco. 'Come on, or we will be late for class.'

Draco took the proffered hand and heaved himself upright. He nodded and turned his back towards Harry and bend down to pick up a school robe off the floor. He heard Harry moved behind him and he quickly clamped both hands on his bottom.

'Keep your hands off my arse. Your daily fun quota is up,' he said over his shoulder. Satisfied that Harry would stay put and not lunge at him, he quickly donned the robe. Before Harry could protest, Draco had opened the door and disappeared down the corridor.

Harry sighed dramatically. Draco could be so pig-headed sometimes. Harry picked up the remaining robe off the floor and rolled it into a ball. He grinned evilly.

He was going to be late for class after all.

* * *

Draco strutted down the corridor in his usual cocky gait; his eyes half-glazed from the aftermath of his brief but very pleasant assignation with Harry Potter in the pitch-dark storeroom. He felt pretty damn pleased with himself, having both curiosity and lust satisfied within that short but - ah - mutually enlightening encounter. He had cornered Harry during the break, whispered a suggestive proposition and then led the seemingly docile and willing boy into the storeroom. Well, Draco figured, nothing beats spending an otherwise boring half-hour break than a quickie with Harry. After all, Care of Magical Creatures would bore him out of his skull later on; he might as well get some fun while he could.

What Draco hadn't expected, however, as soon as the door was bolted, Harry had grabbed him by his upper arms, torn both of their school robes off, pulled Draco's trousers down and spun him face first on the floor. Draco's mind went blank with shock and he couldn't even manage a squeak. What came next was the heady sensation of Harry's fingers clamping down on his pert arse and his wicked tongue doing clever tricks to Draco's bottom. Draco had screamed and thrashed like a mad animal, not caring if his screams carried through the whole of Hogwarts. Harry held him down in a vise-like grip, and the last thing that Draco knew was that he had shot bucket loads of sperm all over his front without even touching himself. He then passed out from the intense sensation overload.

Draco, his mind still on cloud nine, grinned vacantly as he made his way across the sloping lawns towards the animal paddock near Hargrid's hut. He was oblivious to the stares and random coughs and chuckles from some junior students that passed him. He just, after all, had sex with Golden Boy Harry Potter; his public enemy, Quidditch rival and clandestine yet adventurous partner in all matters sexual. Draco put a skip in his walk, his mind thinking about the hundreds of brokenhearted girls and no doubt, more than a few dozen boys if they ever found out that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were shagging each other exclusively. He grinned at the thought of a mass suicide amongst the teen population of the wizarding world if the news that Harry Potter was his and his alone became public. That would be far more lethal and effective than any half-arsed attack by Lord Voldemort and his band of bumbling Death Eaters.

Draco chuckled wickedly, imagining what that redheaded first class pillock, Ron Weasley's, reaction would be if the moron ever came to know that the best mate he'd had since he was eleven had been shagging his mortal enemy and enjoying every moment of it. Implode, Draco hazarded a guess - which would be a major favour and improvement to the wizarding world in his opinion.

The bushy haired Mudblood would probably suffer a heart attack, but her chances of recovery were marginally better as Muggles were more tolerant of same sex liaison. Anyway, he strongly suspected that the Mudblood was having an affair with a certain chubby Hufflepuff named Susan Bones herself.

Oh well, you can't win them all, Draco thought; the image of Filch scraping bits of Ron Weasley off the Gryffindor common room floor playing vividly in his mind.

Draco chuckled and grinned a very stupid grin, blissfully unaware of the sudden silence and wide-eyed stares hurled his way by the group of Slytherin and Gryffindor students. The Care of Magical Creatures teacher was nowhere to be seen, probably wrestling with some uncooperative specimen or tending to his shredded limbs. Draco stretched his arms above his head and yawned languidly, looking like a cat that'd gotten at the cream.

Somebody bumped into him softly, pulling him out of his very pleasant (and sometimes foul) thoughts. He turned and found himself looking into Harry's very green eyes, an arched eyebrow disappearing under the dark, messy 'just-tumbled-out-of-bed' fringe. Draco suppressed a smile and the urge to kiss him stupid. He settled by arranging his face in the usual sneer, but Harry had sauntered away towards his dorm mates, his Firebolt in his hand.

He watched as Harry was pulled aside by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who seemed highly excitable and were saying something vulgar while looking towards his direction. Draco frowned. Harry grinned in his usual couldn't-be-arsed manner, shrugged at the two and calmly charmed his Firebolt to settle onto the roof of Hargid's hut. Draco felt slightly disturbed.

'Er, Malfoy,' a familiar low rasp broke him out of his reverie. Goyle. He turned to look up into the bigger boy's dull deep-set eyes.

'Yes?' said Draco, arching an elegant eyebrow. By now he was becoming more aware of the hushed whispers coming from the general student body, along with the incredulous look being directed his way. Draco shifted uneasily.

'Erm…' Goyle started hesitantly, eyebrows knitting together. He settled by jabbing a thick finger on Draco's chest.

'Ow,' said Draco, taking a step back. He swatted at the offending digit.

His mouth dropped open in shock.

He was wearing a Gryffindor robe. Harry's robe.

Draco's ears turned pink and he felt giddy.

Somebody squealed with laughter. Finnigan, the Irish prat.

Draco felt panic rise in his throat. He glanced at Harry, but the boy was calmly cleaning his nails like nothing happened. Draco's mind went into panic mode; if he was wearing Harry's robe, it only made sense for Harry to be wearing his - Slytherin emblem and all. But hold on; Harry was standing smugly in his Gryffindor robe, industriously buffing his nails.

That explained the Firebolt; the prat must have realised his robe was taken by mistake and had gone to fetch another. Harry winked at him and licked his lips surreptitiously.

Suddenly, the snarling face of the dreadful redheaded pillock filled his vision. Draco groaned at his incredible appalling luck.

'What's the meaning of this, Malfoy?' snarled Ron, in barely controlled rage. 'Been stealing from the laundry? How DARE you defile the Gryffindor crest!' He shoved Draco hard on the shoulder, his fist itching to do some permanent damage to the smaller boy. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco reeled back, trying to get away from Ron. The sight of the boy's flaring nostrils reminded him of an enraged bull, and it was quite scary. Furthermore, Ron towered a good six inches above him, and from his viewpoint it was very intimidating.

'Screw you, Weasley,' said Draco, trying to sneer, but he knew he looked worried. He fished urgently into his robes for his wand. It wasn't there. Of course.

He stepped back; verbal sparring with Weasley was one thing, but coming to physical blows with the boy was one thing he would rather avoid. He remembered the black eye that Ron gave him back in first year during the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game. Draco looked around for his two henchmen.

Amazingly, Crabbe and Goyle did not come to his aid, preferring to watch in amusement from a distance. Ron advanced towards the smaller boy, snarling like an enraged gorilla and cracking his knuckles in a threatening manner. Before Draco knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Draco let out a piercing yell.

Goyle nudged at Crabbe. 'Let's see how Malfoy get out of this one,' he said darkly. 'I'm done covering up for him.'

'Yeah,' grinned Crabbe, a droll smile splitting his face. 'Let's see how good he is at thinking on his feet. He'd done too much lying on his back.'

'Or on his front for that matter,' answered Goyle, nodding sagely. 'Head and chest on the bed, buttocks high in the air,' he added, snickering loudly.

Crabbe scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'I've lost count the number of times I had to put the Silencing Charm on his bed.' He watched in amusement as Draco twisted from under Ron's plummeting fist, legs kicking wildly.

'Screams like a woman, that boy did. Every time, yessir.'

'Naaahh, it's more like squeal like a stuck pig, that's what I think.'

'Well, Vince, he was being stuck, if you know what I mean!'

They collapsed in braying laughter, holding onto each other for support.

There was a commotion as Draco and Ron rolled around on the ground, Ron's huge hands lunging towards Draco's face, intent on giving him a primitive yet permanent facial. Draco managed to duck under his arms and was up and running. Somebody screamed as Ron attempted a flying tackle on the boy, but Draco was too fast on his feet.

Dean looked sideways at Harry. 'Aren't you going to do anything?' he asked, as they watched Draco ran pell-mell towards Hagrid's hut.

'Why should I?' Harry asked innocently. 'Ron's doing just fine.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'I mean Malfoy. He's your boyfriend, after all. And your best mate is trying to kill him.'

Harry dipped his head and looked at Dean over his glasses, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 'I want to watch. This is fun.'

Dean sighed in mock horror. 'I really don't understand this relationship of yours and Malfoy. Both of you are very weird,' he declared, popping a sherbet lemon into his mouth. 'Is this some sort of perverse foreplay? "Get your best mate to beat up your lover while you toss off"?'

Draco had completed a lap around the hut with Ron hot on his heels. Harry laughed in amusement.

'Maybe,' he shrugged nonchalantly. He was itching for a smoke. He compromised by sticking his hands into his trousers' pockets.

Some of the students were chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!' while others were hooting encouragement.

'Pound that git! Go, Ron, go!'

'Stand still and fight, Malfoy, you big wuss.'

'Oy, Malfoy! Scared you might ruin your precious manicure?'

More hooting and raucous laughter. A voice, clearly Millicent Bulstrode's yelled, 'Lost your balls, Malfoy? You jerk!'

Draco was down on his butt, scooting backwards on his bottom as Ron advanced upon him, gripping his wand tightly in his fist until the knuckles turned white. Draco's pale features were rendered bloodless.

Seamus elbowed Harry hard. 'Aren't you going to stop Ron?' he asked, watching Harry buff his nails yet again. 'You might be minus one boyfriend pretty soon, from the look of it,' he added, matter of factly.

'Draco can take care of himself,' replied Harry, without conviction. He was beginning to feel worried.

'Good bottoms are hard to find, mate,' said Dean, nodding his head sagely. Harry felt his face flush. 'I heard that Malfoy's a good and willing bottom. Takes a certain calibre to be that.'

Harry's face felt so hot he was sure they could fry an egg upon it.

'You better do something, Harry, before Ron hexes your lover boy into a ferret or something nasty,' advised Seamus, sotto voce. 'You don't want to be screwing a ferret now, would you Harry?' he added, grinning evilly.

Harry felt his face and ears burn with embarrassment. He looked up at the skies and counted to twenty, shifting from one leg to the other. 'Well, Seamus…you are right. Ferret fucking is definitely not cool,' he said finally and abruptly turned away to push through the throng of fascinated students.

Ron was standing over Draco with his wand pointing at the prone boy's face.

'I think I shall hex some boils on that smug face of yours, Malfoy,' he declared nastily. Draco gritted his orthodontically corrected teeth, his mind thinking of one thousand and one ways to Make Weasley Suffer for This Humiliation. Ron waved his wand menacingly, and waggled his red eyebrows.

Then Harry was sliding smoothly between him and Ron.

'Put your wand away, Ron,' said Harry, his voice low, but the tone of command was unmistakable. A sudden hush fell over the student body, as everybody watched the unexpected twist in the drama unfold before them. Harry stood with his back towards Draco; legs hips width apart and arms akimbo, looking up at his taller companion.

Draco groaned inwardly. He would never be able to live this down. Ron goggled at Harry in disbelief.

'What did you say?'

'You heard me,' said Harry, smoothly. He was aware of the pregnant silence from the captivated audience. 'Malfoy has a wager with me; I dared him to turn up for class in a Gryffindor robe. I didn't think he had the guts,' Harry turned to face Draco, favouring him with a small wink. 'Well, he proved me wrong.'

Draco stared at him, mouth agape.

Ron looked at Harry in horror.

'You had a bet with - Malfoy?' he sputtered weakly. Harry nodded.

'Uh-uh.'

'You didn't think he had the guts?'

Harry shrugged offhandedly. He took his glasses off and began polishing them slowly with his robe. 'I was wrong, apparently.'

Ron stood staring at him, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Harry put on his glasses with deliberate care and deftly plucked the wand from Ron's hand and put it in his robes. He patted Ron on the shoulder in a placating manner.

'But - but, I want to hex him!' wailed Ron.

Harry exaggerated a sigh and shook his head. 'No, Ron. It's just not done.'

'I loathe him,' Ron whined. 'Let me hex him. Please.'

Draco watched in morbid fascination as Harry stared the taller boy down.

'No. Draco's mine.' Harry's tone was low and serious, but it carried clearly. Draco blushed to the roots of his hair at the double meaning of Harry's statement. He wished the ground would open and swallow him up. He would never live this down; what the hell was Harry doing? Harry might as well be proposing marriage to him there and then; he couldn't be any more mortified.

Suddenly Harry was grinning, and clapping Ron's shoulder. 'Draco's been mine all along,' said Harry, jerking a thumb towards him. 'If there's anyone who'll take him down, that will be me. Everybody knows that.'

Ron nodded and grinned. 'Yeah, you're right, mate. You finish him off. Show him who's the top dog!' said Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder in a matey way before strolling off.

Harry stared at Ron for some few moments, his face blank, as it always become when he tried to hide his emotions, and then his features softened and he grinned. He turned to face Draco and held out his hand.

'Well done, Malfoy. I must say I am very impressed.'

Draco looked at the proffered hand, debated for a moment and decided to take it. He stood up slowly and made a show of dusting his robes carefully. Harry's robes. He ignored the dozen pairs of eyes boring into them with mild curiosity. Finally he looked up into Harry's bemused green eyes.

'Top Dog, Potter?' said Draco, from the corner of his mouth; so softly that only Harry heard him.

Harry grinned. 'Aren't I always, Draco love?'

* * *

'Thanks for saving my skin out there,' said Draco, as they sat in one of the school stagecoaches later that night, eating a pile of chocolate frogs and guzzling Butterbooze. Dozens of empty boxes and cans littered the floor. He bit the legs off the frogs one by one and put the amputated body into the box. Harry hmmed distractedly, as he bit the head off his frog.

'No worries,' said Harry, as he wiped his chocolate smeared mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned at Draco, who had shifted on the seat, and now was lying down with his legs hooked over the back of the seat and head hanging upside down. He patted the boy indulgently and Draco purred happily.

'Weasley was a raving loony; if only I had my wand, I'd -'

'Draco,' Harry cut him off, his tone mild. 'You do not insult my friends, and I yours,'

Draco bit his lips and pouted. 'Why did you stop him then?' he asked, curious.

Harry settled back on the seat and picked up a legless chocolate frog and bit its head thoughtfully. 'Dean convinced me that good bottoms are a rare find,' he answered, popping the rest of the frog into his mouth. He washed the frog down with a swig of Butterbooze.

'What?' Draco jerked from his upside down position and landed squarely on Harry's lap. 'Dean said what?'

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Draco held out his hands. 'No, tell me I heard you wrong,' he whimpered. Harry grinned and nodded his head vigorously. Draco covered his face with his hands, mortified. He kicked against the stagecoach wall repeatedly, making it rock.

'Hey,' said Harry in a placating tone, pulling the boy's hands off his face. Draco stared at him sullenly.

Suddenly, Harry's hands were on his arms, and Draco yelped in surprise as he was spun to the floor. He was aware of Harry's weight pressing on him and the green eyes were inches from his own. Harry grinned wickedly.

'Harry…' Draco breathed, as he tried to squirm from underneath the dark-haired boy. He found himself pinned down effectively, the empty cans and boxes digging into his back.

'I think it's time to prove him right,' Harry declared, nipping at Draco's chin.

Draco grinned and hooked his legs over Harry's thighs, nodding happily.

Then there was silence, except for the violent rocking of the stagecoach.

-- FINIS --

© zed : 14th Sept 2002

Updated: Sunday, 22 September 2002