There's got to be hundreds of variations on the "party game" Harry Potter fanfic out there. Strip poker, Are You Nervous?, Seven Minutes in Heaven, Truth & Dare, and the list goes on. I've often wished for a bit more from those stories, so I decided to try my own hand at this classic cliché. Please leave a review if you enjoyed it!

"Fucking relax," came the low voice from somewhere in the dark. "It's not a bloody date; it's a game."

Of course it was. Not a problem.

But then, nothing ever seemed to faze Draco Malfoy. He rarely frowned deeply, rarely smiled deeply. His calculating grey eyes followed everything going on around him without reaction. He was cool and detached, the prince of the Slytherins. Yet, somehow, here he was, with someone absolutely anonymous, locked in a closet.

Blaise Zabini had blinked stupidly when the bottle pointed at him just a few minutes ago. The circle of Slytherins had burst into shouts and laughter.

"Ha! Don't try to back out of this one, Malfoy! We've got a hex attached to this bottle! Let's have some kissy-kissy!"

Blaise was grateful that his light brown skin would hide the hot blood burning his face and ears. If he were purely Italian, it'd be painfully obvious he was blushing right now.

"Hey, think we should've charmed the bottle not to pick boy-on-boy pairs? 'Course, we'd keep the girl-on-girl."

"Shut the hell up, Crabbe."

"You shut it, Parkinson."

Those grey eyes across from Blaise hadn't given away anything. Draco Malfoy stood up from the circle nonchalantly, impervious to the ruckus around him.

A chorus of yells had risen up, silencing the rest of the comments and arguments as the whole group of Slytherins gleefully joined in: "Do it, do it!"

Blaise was yanked up from the floor and shoved toward the closet door where Draco Malfoy stood waiting, blank-faced. Draco's eyes had briefly flicked over him, sizing him up. He was a dragon stretched out in sunlight, drowsy and careless.

"Do it, do it!"

Just before they stepped into the common room's storage closet, Blaise chanced a sideways look at Malfoy. Those disinterested grey eyes stared straight into his, and then actual interest flickered into Draco's face and a small smirk tugged upward. Like an awoken dragon, an alert Draco Malfoy was much more dangerous.

"I said fucking relax," came that voice again from the darkness.

Blaise tensed at the voice. "I'm not scared," he hissed, irritated at the implication, at the situation, at himself.

"Oh?"

"Don't worry about me," Blaise snarled.

Malfoy was making this insecure moment even worse. He'd seemed utterly unconcerned just moments ago, but now… There might as well have been firewhiskey back with the circle of Slytherins, because Draco was suddenly alive and intense instead of bored and apathetic.

A light, almost mocking chuckle came from somewhere close. "Me worried about you?"

Blaise grimaced in the darkness. This was quickly ranking high in his ultimate list of embarrassing moments. Shit. He was never going to hear the end of this. Blaise wished he could somehow skip the next seven minutes. Maybe he could obliviate himself later.

Draco looked down at Blaise, eyes glinting. "Ready?" he tossed out lightly.

Blaise tried to ignore the continued chants of "Do it!" outside, not about to hesitate and show weakness in front of another Slytherin. He nodded firmly, tossing out "sure" in what he hoped was a casual enough tone.

Without warning, Draco pulled the other boy to him roughly by the collar, causing a sharp inhale of surprise from Blaise. "Good. I'm not having some hexed-on cheating rash from a stupid little game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, so I want this done right."

Blaise glared up at the taller, quidditch-built boy. "Fine. But I'm not a cock-gobbler because of this," Blaise snapped. "Luck of the bloody draw."

Draco didn't say anything, making the tiny closet feel even more constricting and awkward. Blaise glowered, not about to be intimidated. Unmeasured time was quickly ticking past, and when the time ran out, there'd be a nasty hex waiting if they hadn't gotten this over with. Impulsively, Blaise darted forward, shutting his eyes tightly and tipping his head up to press his lips against Draco's. The only sound was the cackle of voices, muffled through the door, still chanting, "Do it!"

His tongue fought Draco's for dominance, wishing the battle was with someone who had a tiny waist and shapely, smooth legs. Blaise grabbed the other boy's tie and a fistful of white school uniform shirt, pretending the flat chest was soft and curvy. Still, all Blaise could taste and feel was Draco Malfoy. The chest that his hands pressed against was firm and smooth, and though the hair brushing his cheeks was soft, it smelled like fresh cut grass and something darkly male.

Draco pulled back, breathing heavily before he sharply bit Blaise's neck, following up the pain with light kisses. Hands slipped underneath Blaise's shirt to pull short nails heavily down his back. Blaise bit his lip, refusing to react to the rough friction. He wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction. The chanting was forgotten, replaced by the ruffling of clothes and uneven panting.

Blaise let go of the fistfuls of shirt to run his hands across Draco's chest, feeling every inch of body that was available to him. He pushed Draco back from his sensitive neck, glancing up at grey eyes before jerking forward to capture those lips again. He was gently biting and sucking at Draco's lower lip, and Draco opened his mouth to claim Blaise in a kiss that stopped both of their breathing.

Draco shoved them both back against the wall of the closet. Blaise gasped against Draco's mouth when he felt something hard pressed against his thigh. Draco pushed himself between Blaise's legs, rubbing against the front of Blaise's pants. Blaise broke off their kiss and growled at this new kind of friction. He tangled his fingers into Draco's disheveled hair, arching his back against the wall to grind against Draco again.

Draco suddenly jerked away from Blaise, pulling back to look at him. Draco stared down at Blaise, his eyes wide. Blaise opened his eyes to see why Draco stopped.

"This isn't… I'm not gay," Draco suddenly burst out, hair disheveled, breathing heavily, and hands tightening on Blaise's body.

Blaise licked his lips, blinking rapidly. "Me either."

Draco's eyebrows pulled down almost angrily, and he lunged forward for another desperate kiss. They pressed against the wall passionately, lips locked and frantically moving against each other, completely oblivious to the tense silence from the other side of the closet door. The hex hadn't gone off and seven minutes were long over.