Heaven Through a Window • Drarry •

Chapter Twenty: Wilful Fire-Raising

The day after that blissful evening, Potter was guarded and quiet. Draco neither brought him to the roof nor had their game of 'Twenty Million Questions'. Things were uneasy between them, so Draco armed himself with the excuse that he was too busy for Legilimency—but Harry never asked.

On the third day, things were still weird between them. Draco did a cognitive assessment in the late afternoon, and as he turned to leave, Potter caught him by the elbow and asked if they'd ever kissed.

This time, his body knew what to do. He backed Potter against the wall, grey eyes locked on the wide and wild green.

Draco's fingertips sunk into Potter's shoulders, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and he spat, "Is this a test?"

"What?"

Draco looked between his eyes and nodded. "You don't remember," he hissed into Harry's ear, "but you will." He gripped Harry's hair and pulled it to expose his neck. "How could you forget this?" he asked, running his teeth lightly down the bared throat.

Harry gasped, shoved him away, and there was a gleam in his eyes—there was more of Harry, a spirited recognition, and Harry slammed Draco's shoulders into the wall and pushed his leg between Draco's thighs.

"We have," Harry moaned into his neck. "Draco..."

Draco permitted Potter to snog him senseless for a time before they melted, and Harry kissed his way to Draco's cheek, on a path down to his pointy chin. "I thought it was a dream," Harry whispered. "But I hoped it wasn't."

"Tell me about it."

Harry locked the door and tugged him onto the bed, and they sat cross-legged opposite each other, Harry rubbing his thumbs into Draco's palms. "We were on the roof."

Draco nodded. "Yeah. We were."

Potter bit his lip. "It's a bit hazy, I don't remember what we were talking about. I just... remember how I felt. I got the impression that you cared about me. And that you were a good kisser." Harry pushed his fingers through Draco's hair and inched nearer. "And now I want a third kiss."

"We shouldn't," Draco said, eyes on parted lips, shaking his head. "Anyone could knock."

"Okay," he replied. "Take me outside, then."

****

The next week wasn't any easier. Draco had two days off in a row and on his return, his Harry had slipped away from him.

They were up on the roof again. Harry must have seen something in his eyes, though Draco had been trying to act normal, for he asked with wild eyes, "Why should I trust you?" He gripped the front of Draco's robes, whether to pull or push him away, Draco didn't know.

"Because I know you," Draco snarled. He allowed Draco to back him against the wall. "I know how you like it when I pin you against this wall and kiss you slowly, again and again until you complain that you can't bear it any longer." He was so close he could feel Potter's breath against his lips.

Potter's eyes were wide yet fearless. "You're telling the truth," he stated.

And because Potter was so irresistible, Draco sighed in exasperation and gave him one of those near-promised slow kisses, drinking down Potter's appreciative little grunts. "You may not remember me," Draco said against his lips, voice low, "but your body does."

He kissed Harry's sharp jaw, cheekbone, the jut of his wrist. "You will remember this," Draco said. "You will remember us."

"I will," Harry vowed; a promise he could not keep.