Star Quality

Chapter 9

Harry woke pressed up tight against Draco under the covers, Draco's hair in his face and his raging hard on digging into Draco's back. It would have been a pleasant, if unusual way, to wake, if it hadn't been for the fact it wasn't the discomfort that had woken him up. No, it was the row Draco appeared to be having with Pansy.

Harry opened his eyes in a panic, to find that Pansy wasn't actually in the room, thank Godric. She was, however, standing in the half-open doorway, her back towards them. Her back, even blurred, looked angry.

"You are meant to be doing an interview with Smash Hits in half an hour," Pansy said angrily. "What do you mean, you're not available? Stop thinking with your dick and get your clothes on. You can fuck your little shop boy tonight, when you've done your job."

Little shop boy?! Harry must have made a noise of outrage, because Draco seemed to realise he'd woken up. He gave Harry a small, and entirely unnecessary, kick in the shin with his heel.

"I love you to the moon and back, Pans," Draco said crossly, "but sometimes you can be a real cow. Apologise right now."

"Sorry, Harry," Pansy said, through what sounded like gritted teeth. "But—"

"You didn't tell me I had a magazine interview today," Draco said firmly, "and I've made other plans. Ones I can't break. You can reschedule the interview for tomorrow, if you must. And next time knock, for fuck's sake."

"Fine!" Pansy said, sounding seriously annoyed.

"And Harry will be joining me on the tour," Draco said, when Pansy started moving away, making her stop dead in her tracks. "So make whatever tedious arrangements you need to, OK?"

"Sometimes you drive me up the fucking wall, Draco," Pansy said, and she half turned to slam the door shut behind her.

"So dramatic," Draco said, sounding unimpressed.

"Yes, I wonder why you two were ever friends," Harry said.

Draco turned, rolling over and pinning Harry underneath him. His hair was a soft, floppy mess, his expression daring. He really was lovely, Harry thought dumbly, despite the fact he was a massive bell-end. "For that little jibe, you can stroke your own cock this morning," Draco said, rolling off him and getting off the bed.

This didn't strike Harry as a reasonable punishment. God, he thought, staring at the ceiling. Had he really got used to this gay thing so easily? He felt panic rise, but pushed it down; he could examine it later, when Draco wasn't there staring at him, making it impossible to think.

"Anyway, I don't think we have time," Draco said, looking at his phone. "It's already midday. We'll be cutting it fine to fit in a reunion of the golden trio and get back to Wembley on time as it is."

"Wembley?" Harry repeated, still not properly awake, but fumbling for his glasses.

"Yes, Harry, Wembley," Draco said very slowly, as if Harry was hard of thinking. "I have three nights there, and then it's on to . . ." He frowned. "I can't remember. Germany, possibly. Or is it France?"

"There's a T-shirt downstairs with your tour dates on if you can't remember," Harry said, wanting to get out of bed but feeling hugely self-conscious about being naked – and still hard – in front of Draco in the daytime. "Have you got a towel and stuff you can lend me? I really need a wash. Oh – and clean clothes, maybe. We're roughly the same size."

"Actually, I'm at least an inch taller, and I'd say you eat considerably more fried food than I do," Draco said, wrinkling his nose. Then he smiled, an edge of mischief in his expression. "But OK. Go and use the bathroom – there's spares of all the toiletries your heart could ever wish for in the cupboard, I expect, given what this hotel is like – and I'll find you something to wear."