Starts With a Spin

Chapter 2

French kissing had a very profound effect on the relationship of the two people involved.

At least this was what Harry decided in the week that followed the aforementioned dare.

He figured that, in normal relationships, French kissing could be considered a big step. Afterwards, you were allowed to be openly romantic for other people to see, you could hold hands as you walked down the hall, sneak kisses in between classes, and not be shy about it or care about what everyone else would think.

This, obviously, was not something that Harry and Draco were about to do, and Harry quickly had to stomp out the nauseating image of he and said Slytherin skipping down the halls holding hands. For them, the situation had to be handled...well, delicately, really.

They couldn't ignore each other, that much was obvious. They hadn't been able to do it for the past five years and they certainly wouldn't be able to start now. Besides, not fighting with each other meant acknowledging the fact that they were uncomfortable in each other's presence. That, by default, meant unintentionally acknowledging the kiss, and by silent agreement the entire sixth year acted like nothing ever happened at the parties. They were just good little students sitting in their rooms studying on those Saturday nights. So nothing was ever mentioned about the happenings between Harry and Draco during the week, which meant they had to continue arguing like they normally did. Their arguments, however, had a noticeable change to them.

For one, the fist fighting they had only just recently discovered was no longer allowed. The obvious reason for this being that they simply did not want to touch each other.

At all.

So they stuck to colorful name calling and such, as they had done for the first five years of their knowing each other.

* * *

"I hate him," Harry announced that Tuesday, after a particular scathing comment from Malfoy. "Merlin, I hate him so much! Why does he have to be so annoying?" He plopped down onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room, crossed his arms sulkily, and proceeded to mope.

"Don't let him get to you, Harry, he's not worth it," Hermione said gently, lowering herself into the seat next to him. Harry shot her an incredulous look, trying very hard to not talk about the shall-not-be-mentioned-during-the-week-parties, and instead making a commendable attempt to communicate the problem telepathically. Hermione ignored him.

"He's a great pain in the arse, that's what he is," Ron scowled. "And you're not making anything better, Hermione, with all your little dares." Well that shot it. Now they were going to talk about it.

"I haven't made any dares, Ron," the girl replied, brushing her hair off her shoulders. "I've only said that, as a Gryffindor, Harry should have the courage to follow through with them. It's not my fault that the dares are...not very favorable. To Harry."

"Not very favorable?" Harry repeated. "They're not favorable at all. I hate it! I go every week dreading what's going to happen next." Hermione giggled at that, but quickly cut herself off when Harry glared at her. Ron glanced towards the fireplace, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Then why do you keep going?" he asked quietly, reaching down to his bag to pull out his Charms textbook. "I mean, no one's forcing you to."

Harry blushed. "Well I have to go, don't I? If I back out, Malfoy wins."

"Wins what?"

"Wins...well...just wins. It's a competition, just like everything else we do," Harry said bitterly.