Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: I'm dabbling into some Harry/Draco, which I have never done before, but it might be fun.
Behind the Bookcase
One Kiss is Never Enough
(Harry's POV)
I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong.
But I can't help it.
Draco is sitting at a table in the virtually empty library, Crabbe and Goyle nowhere to be seen. Even Hermione is uncharacteristically missing. His head is bowed down on his parchment, his quill scrawling down the answers to the homework. I part two books from the shelf I remain hidden behind to steal a better glance. Silently, I watch him.
His consistent routine has become mine. Everyday, he gets to The Great Hall at precisely eight o'clock in the morning. I get there ten minutes before, just in case. He takes the same paths to class, eats his meals at the same time I do, then heads to the library straight after dinner. He doesn't leave until he completes his homework. I don't leave until his completes his homework. Then he packs up and heads to his house, and I to mine. In between, he delivers about twenty insults. Yesterday was and tomorrow will be exactly as it is today.
He is mumbling to himself now, gazing up at the ceiling for an empty response. He nods to himself, finishes off a sentence, rolls the parchment up, and unrolls a new one. Potions is done. Next up is Charms.
I need to end this habit; it's not healthy for me. But like any addiction, it's easier said than done.
Draco stops writing, tapping his quill into the bottle of ink in thought. He surveys the area, perhaps searching for inspiration. He doesn't usually do this. Without ample time to conceal myself, he spots me from my place behind the bookcase. I instinctively push the books back to cover my face, but this worsens the situation. He knows for certain that I'm here.
My initial response is fight or flight, but the choice is not made by me. Before long, Draco finds his way to my side, the vein in his eye twitching ever so slightly. I swallow audibly.
"What do you want, Potter?"
I don't answer, simply because I do not know what to say.
"You know," he begins, leaning on the bookcase by his elbows. "I've noticed you've been watching me a lot lately. At first I thought you were finding a pathetic excuse of a hobby, but then I realized how to end this."
Before I'm given the chance to question him, Draco's lips crash violently to mine. After the initial shock wears off, I quickly embrace this new sensation, my tongue wandering out of its homeland, tasting him. There is a tenderness about him, something unexplainable, but something I desperately want to explore. My hands begin to venture onto his backside, pulling him closer.
He suddenly pulls apart, the kiss ending as forcefully as it had begun. Draco steps back and straightens his robes. I lean in, eagerly awaiting more, but he maintains a formal distance.
"There, you got what you want. Now please, leave me alone." He takes a seat back at the table and busies himself with his books again.
Befuddled and in disbelief, I obliged to his wishes. But when I reach the doors to depart, I cannot resist the urge to turn around. Draco's head is down at his work again, but his attention is clearly elsewhere. He is smiling to himself, the secretive kind of smile. I silently exit the library, a grin playing on my own lips.
Draco's wrong though. He didn't give me what I wanted. One kiss is never enough.
Author's Note: This story came out of nowhere. Literally. Tell me what you think.