(A/N): Hi :waves: I am extremely a. bored b. hyper and c. happy right now, and I thought, oh! What a perfect mood to write a fanfic! I've been thinking about writing a Harry/Draco for a while now and today this idea came to me...but be warned. I am insane. :D Bwaha! LOL…sigh. I love Harry Potter.

This is set in Harry and Draco's fifth year.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, or Draco, or Ron, or Hermione, or – well, you get the picture. I wish I did though, because OH the things I would do. Teehee.

I hope you enjoy! I have chocolate-covered Draco-and-Harrys for those who review!!!

It was nearing two in the morning and the common room had long since been emptied. The only remaining students were Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger, sitting dazedly in the huge, fluffy armchairs by the fire and blowing huge pink bubbles with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. None of them were tired in the slightest; on the contrary, it was a Saturday without homework (the first in a while; celebrations had to be made), they had spent all day enjoying themselves wasting time at Hogsmeade, and they were now in the very midst of an extremely satisfying sugar high. Harry was examining his fingers with a detached, gleeful look on his face, Ron was watching the enormous bubbles they had blown sailing through the air over their heads, and Hermione was peeling the wrapper off her third Chocolate Frog, wearing a dreamy, vague smile that rivaled Luna Lovegood's.

"I love chocolate," she said happily, in a very un-Hermioneish way.

"Me too," said Ron, grinning hugely. "It's amazing. It's better than everything."

"No!" Harry insisted, looking up from his pensive study of his hands. "Quidditch. Then chocolate."

"Oh," Ron said amicably, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, right…"

"Do you know what I think?" Hermione demanded suddenly, jumping to her feet, eyes serious and focused as she looked from Harry to Ron and back again.

"What?" Harry asked curiously.

"I think," she declared. "That we're going to win next week's match. We're going to stomp Slytherin. That's what I think."

Harry and Ron exchanged a lazy grin. It was always fun when Hermione was sugar-hyper; she seemed to pick up on Quidditch fever and consequentially talked and cared more about it. Then again, everything was at least six times funnier and better when they were under the influence of sweets.

"Guys," said Ron, in a very serious tone of voice, as though he were discussing their hatred of Umbridge. "I like my pajamas."

Harry and Hermione both snorted.

"Yeah, they're pretty nice," said Harry with a grin. "A little short in the ankle, though."

"Shut up, Harry," said Ron cheerfully. "You know you like them. I see you looking at them when they're all folded up at the end of my bed. I think you're jealous. Plaid is extremely cool and you don't have anything plaid."

Harry laughed. "Yes, you're right, I envy you, Ron." He reached over the side of his chair to grab another package of Bertie Bott's, but his hand came up empty. He peered blearily down at the pile of discarded wrappers and bags, searched through them for a new package, found nothing. He gave a rather dramatic sigh and got to his feet.

"Well, guys, I'm out of supplies," he said with a big grin, all frustration forgotten. "I'm off to the kitchen. Any requests?"

"Nah," said Hermione. "I'm done. I think I'll go to bed."

And without so much as a goodnight, she stood up and began to walk over to the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitory. She got halfway up before she tripped over her own feet; landing hard on her bottom, she started giggling uncontrollably and called, "Whoops. Clumsy me. Oh yeah…"

She stood up, turned, and waved at her best friends. "Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight," they chorused, grinning. After Hermione had disappeared into her dormitory Ron got up as well.

"I think I'll turn in too," he said. "I've got some – er – stuff to take care of."

Harry was too distracted by the large magenta gum bubble floating right in front of his face to notice Ron's furtive tones and guilty expression. Without glancing at him he said, "Okay. See you in the morning."

"Night, mate," Ron said. Then he was gone.

Harry snatched his Invisibility Cloak from its place on his chair, then draped it carefully over himself and stole through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was snoozing in her armchair; not thinking, Harry slammed the picture shut behind him and she awoke with a squawking cry of, "What? What's happening? Who's there?"

Laughing to himself, Harry took off down the hallway, the comfortable castle air swirling around him, lifting the hem of the cloak from his trainers. He loved the quiet of the school at night, the peace, it was never like this during the day and it was perfection just to have some time alone. He began to hum loudly as he maneuvered the corridors and passageways, and he was just in the middle of a nice daydream about racing along on his Firebolt when he collided sharply with someone hurtling along in the other direction.

"OOF!"

He was knocked clean off his feet. Landing painfully and gracelessly on his backside, the cloak flying off him, he lay stunned for a moment, then sat up, groping frantically for his cloak, which he located after a few panicked seconds. Harry readjusted his glasses, tucked the watery, thick material under his arm, then peered over at the dark shape sitting up next to him.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry braced himself for the wave of malicious comments that usually flooded his brain at the sight of Malfoy, but none came. Instead, that feeling of peace and love of everything in the world remained, and he blinked, confused, before grinning over at the blonde.

To his great surprise, Malfoy grinned back and exclaimed, "Hi, Potter!"

"Hi, Malfoy!" Harry said. "I was just off to the kitchen to get some more sugar, want to come?"

"That's funny," Malfoy said slowly. "I was doing the same thing." He looked around, shook his head to clear it. "Oh, hey, we're already here!" And he pointed at the portrait on the wall right above their heads. Harry recognized the fruit bowl.

"That's convenient," Harry said, laughing. "I love sugar. Yes, yes, yes. Love it. Chocolate too."

"Absolutely. I've had tons but it's not enough, definitely not enough." Draco glanced down at his foot, wiggled it, and added, in a voice of shock and awe, "Hey! Potter! My foot moves!"

Harry burst out laughing. "Incredible! Amazing!" He glanced over at the other boy, whose usually sleek blonde hair was falling messily into his eyes like storms, and registered that Draco looked very sexy tonight. Very sexy indeed.

Wow. Sugar-highs made your mood change fast. All of a sudden Harry could not keep his eyes off Draco, sitting sprawled on the cold stone floor, watching his foot wiggle around inside his sneaker. He closed his eyes and got to three and a half before he realized he didn't want to stop thinking about it, didn't need to hear the cries of it's wrong and he's your biggest enemy that his conscience was reminding him with. Conscience? What conscience? He didn't have one when he was sugar high. And with that in mind, he opened his brilliant emerald eyes and found Malfoy gazing straight at him.

They had a staring match for what had to be an eternity. Then Harry reached over and touched Draco's face, his skin like pale alabaster under Harry's fingertips, and then Draco was pulling him forward and crushing his mouth to Harry's for a frantic, feverish kiss.

Harry parted his lips for Malfoy, let him taste him, open him, his hands running fast and reckless over Draco's body while the favor was returned. Then he pushed back and their tongues dueled for control until he won and shoved his tongue into the other boy's mouth, explored, eliciting a soft moan from the back of Draco's throat. The noise spilled over into Harry's mouth and he felt himself shudder with pleasure, chills running the length of spine. This was incredible.

When they finally pulled back, both gasping for air, Harry met Draco's deep gray eyes, clouded with sugar and arousal, and managed, "You want – to go back – to the common room?"

"Mine or yours?" Draco replied immediately, raking back his silken blonde hair.

"Mine, it's closer," Harry answered, and they jumped up; in their haste Harry forgot to drape the Invisibility Cloak about their shoulders, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting to a bed.

On the way they held hands, which was difficult as they were racing along as fast as was humanly possible, but that was what made it interesting. Once or twice they stopped to kiss, but only briefly, as hour-long snogging sessions in the middle of a Hogwarts hallway, no matter how late at night, was not exactly what you'd call a safe bet. When they finally reached the Fat Lady, once again out of breath, she glanced at them and said serenely, "I really ought not to let you in. Mr. Potter, a student from another house, honestly."

"Gillywater!" Harry snapped at her, praying she was joking, and sure enough, she swung forward on her hinges to allow them entrance, albeit muttering to herself all the same. Ignoring her and keeping a firm grip on Draco's hand, Harry jumped through the hole, shutting the portrait safely behind. Once inside he checked to be sure they were alone. Then he reached out for Malfoy and pulled him close for another searing kiss.

This one lasted. They stood there, pressed so close they began to share body heat, stroking and exploring each other until finally Draco pulled away and yanked his robes over his head. Then he grabbed Harry's hand and pressed it to the hot bulge in the front of his jeans.

Harry hesitated for a split second. Then he grabbed Malfoy and kissed him again, their mouths fusing together, no beginning, no end, his hand sliding up to undo Draco's jeans. He dipped his fingers into the blonde's pants, mapping out an unfamiliar trail with his hand, finding Draco's hardness and stroking it until he came messily, moaning and panting into Harry's open mouth. Harry withdrew his fingers then to lick the Slytherin's juices from his palm, slow, experimental. When he had finished he met Draco's eyes, still cloudy, and said,

"Better than chocolate. No contest."

Malfoy gave a low, husky laugh. Then he let Harry pull him upstairs to the dormitory, where they collapsed as one onto Harry's bed. It seemed they weren't the only ones: Seamus's bed was vacated and there were suspicious noises coming from the direction of Ron's closed hangings.

Harry and Draco laughed at each other, silently. Draco said, "Who would have thought. Finnigan and Weasley."

"Look who's talking," Harry said with a grin before leaning down and taking Draco's mouth in a slow, gentle kiss.

FIN

(A/N): Woot. I think this is going to be a oneshot but I'm not entirely sure. What do you think? Should I write more?