Starts With a Spin

Chapter 4

Practice...practice...practice?

Malfoy wanted them to practice??

Harry's eyes were wide behind his glasses. His arms were crossed and he could feel his fingers digging hard into his biceps. He vaguely wondered why he felt so nervous.

"Practice what?" he finally managed to get out. The pink in Draco's face spread and Harry watched in slight amusement as even his ears became consumed in the color.

"You cannot possibly be that dense," Draco muttered, still staring straight ahead. He didn't seem to want to look at Harry.

"You mean you actually want to give me a...a...a blowjob more than once?" Harry asked incredulously, and not a little hysterically. Draco's hands slammed down on the desk and he whipped around to glare at Harry.

"No, Potter, I most definitely do not, but I also don't want to look like a fool in front of everyone," he said, voice strangely calm. It unnerved Harry, because it simply didn't match the burning look in his eyes.

"Wouldn't you feel more like a fool if everyone wondered why you seemed really good at it?" Harry asked weakly. He felt slightly triumphant when Draco blinked and appeared to think that over.

"No," he decided, and Harry's shoulders drooped. "They'll just think I have natural talent."

"Or that you're naturally gay," came the muttered response. Draco shot him a look and Harry immediately shut up. "So...you want to practice then." Draco nodded, pinking again. Harry sighed, and fidgeted with his hands, picking at spare threads on his robes. Uncomfortable silence spread through the classroom they were in, and as Harry kicked lightly at the leg of the desk he was sitting on with his heel, he vaguely noted that there was no way he could show up for class now. Then he berated himself for thinking about attending class when there were clearly much more dire things happening at present. "You...um, you don't want to," he swallowed, "practice now, do you?"

Draco looked startled, which immediately regressed into slightly panicked, and Harry felt inexplicably relieved. "Oh. No, not now," he answered. "Class and all, you know," he continued to explain, with a vague gesture of his hand. Harry decided not to point out that there was no way Draco could make it to his next class by now.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow??" Draco's voice cracked, and he coughed, before continuing in a much gruffer tone, "Yeah, tomorrow's fine. We just need to find a room where no one will," he shuddered, "walk in on us."

"The Room of Requirement," Harry mumbled, not sure if he really wanted to share that with Draco, but then he remembered that he must already be somewhat aware of it because of the previous year...

"What?"

"The Room of Requirement," Harry repeated, louder this time. "It's...well, it's where you captured the lot of us last year, remember?" he asked, voice not a little bitter. Draco sniffed haughtily, raising his chin slightly.

"I seem to vaguely recall something of the sort," he replied. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Just meet me on the seventh floor tomorrow. After dinner?"

"Can't, quidditch practice."

"Well, when's that over?"

"Eight."

"Eight then."

"I'll have to shower first."

"Then at eight-thirty!" Harry said tightly, suddenly feeling very tired and grumpy. Draco looked affronted.