Drarry

Chapter 6

A short one! Hope you enjoy. Remember, I love to hear constructive criticism! Your lovely compliments make my day, though!

Harry's POV

Twisting his face into a nasty scowl to shield the emotions of vulnerability and hurt, Harry marched crossly into the classroom at 7pm for his detention. After storming out of herbology, Miss Sprout had chased after him and given him a detention for his "abysmal attitude". "You can join Mr. Malfoy!" she had said cuttingly, before spinning on her hill and waddling back to the greenhouse briskly. The irony of it had almost made him smirk if it weren't so deeply cutting.

There Draco sat, sprawled over a desk chair with one hand entwining his long, slim fingers through his white-gold threads of hair. In the other hand he held a pencil, which was jammed between his glinting teeth in an almost nervous fashion. Professor McGonagall was sat at the forefront of the room behind her grand, oak desk at which she was feverishly marking pages and pages of essays with a long, elegant quill. Neither of them noticed him enter.

On clearing his throat, Draco's head snapped round and something flickered in his eyes; his eyebrow dipped slightly in confusion before a sneer mechanically slid onto his face. He rolled his silver eyes and returned to his former position. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, did not lift her head for a moment and continued scribbling away whilst saying, "Take a seat Mr. Potter."

Harry slipped into a seat near the door- as far away from Malfoy as he could.

"Not there, Mr. Potter. You and Mr. Malfoy will need to share a pot of ink to write your apology letters to..." McGonagall trailed off to consult a paper next to her. As she read it, she let out a half supressed laugh. "Mr. Malfoy you must write one to Pansy for your insolence and Miss Sprout for your lack of knowledge. Harry, yours is for your attitude." McGonagall looked up for the first time at Harry with a raised eyebrow at which Harry blushed and nodded.

Draco's POV

Harry sped to the front of the classroom quickly and scooped up a couple rolls of parchment, two quills and a pot of ink. Reluctantly, he made his way next to Draco and slumped into the chair beside him.

Draco could feel the heat of Harry's body almost immediately. His arm leant across the table to start writing and Draco could see the contour of Harry's muscle in his bicep and the throb of Harry's vein in his neck. Harry's warm, masculine sweet smell drifted into Draco's consciousness. The close proximity made anxiety and something deeper, fierier swell in Draco's stomach.

Clearing his throat as if to clear away those thoughts, Draco turned so that his back curved towards Harry and he began his own letters. Yet, he had become acutely aware of how close he was to Harry, and this was intensely distracting. A sense of longing squeezed Draco's insides and fantasies of spinning around in his chair, grabbing the collar of Harry's robes and pulling his body onto his own and pressing his lips against Harry's warm, soft, sweet lips filled Draco's mind in such fantastic detail that his face and neck began to flush.

After half an hour of this silent torture, an owl came swooping into the classroom from an open window by McGonagall's desk. It dropped a neatly tied scroll in front of her before flying off immediately. McGonagall opened the scroll and after scanning It, stood up and came over to the boys.

"I have to go to a meeting with the headmaster. I will be back in an hour to dismiss you and read over your apology letters. They don't have to be long but they have to be meaningful, well-punctuated and articulate. Understand?" Before either of the boys could reply, she swung her cloak over her shoulders and glided out of the room.

Harry's POV

A heavy silence descended over them. Involuntarily, Harry stole a glance at his companion and noticed that Draco's complexion was swirled with that faint pink that he had seen before on very rare occasions. Harry wondered why. They continued in silence for a while longer, politely allowing each other to take systematic turns to dip into the ink.

Harry reached up and dipped his quill into the ink at which point Draco had forgotten the system and also reached forwards. Their hands touched and as soon as their skin made contact, they flew apart as if an electric shock had gone off between them. Their quills went flying out of their hands and they looked at each other with wide eyes, chests rising and falling and faces flushing red.

Jumping up, Harry stumbled over to where his quill had fallen and bent to retrieve it. As he turned, to his surprise, Draco stood there, less than a foot from Harry. His chest was still rising and falling heavily as he gazed at Harry, the pools of silver in his eyes glinting with emotion and his hands shaking. His cheeks were still scattered with pink blush and his plump, pink bottom lip trembled slightly. Draco reached an unsteady hand forward and touched Harry's cheek. Harry's heart stopped. Everything else went still apart from the pulse of Draco's blood in his thumb as it delicately brushed across Harry's cheekbone.

Suddenly, Draco snatched his hand away. And just like that, the moment was gone.

"You had some ink on your cheek," he mumbled, showing Harry his now ink coated thumb.