The Wizarding Award Scheme Programme (or W.A.S.P. for short)

8. 'I blame the hair...'

'Potter! What were you doing with a bloody Fender guitar packed up in this Merlin-forsaken tent?' Draco whispered as Potter snuggled into bed and pulled Draco towards him.

'Do you like it?' Harry began to smatter kisses along Draco's neck.

'What?' The question threw Draco. 'Of course I bloody liked it, they're a top brand, they know how to make guitars, they understand guitars.'

'It sounded good; I mean I don't know the slightest thing about guitars but I liked how it sounded when you played.'

'Which brings me back to my question. Oh. For Merlin's sake, will you stop a moment. I want to know what you're doing with that guitar...'

Harry looked at him, a slightly worried edge to his eyes. 'I got it for your birthday, to replace the other one but I didn't know how you'd take so I thought I'd bring it...' his voice faded. 'Is it okay?' he whispered in concern.

'Potter! Is it okay? Merlin, it's the best.'

Harry heaved a sigh of relief when Draco leant forward and kissed him fervently, the sigh quickly turning into a soft moan.

'What am I supposed to do with you?' Draco whispered. 'Thank you!' he kissed him again.

'And thank you for playing tonight, though,' Harry paused. 'I'm slightly surprised that you should play 'Romeo and Juliet', what if one of them picked up on it?'

'Ry, it's a muggle song written the year we were born.'

'And Kyle's a muggle-born walking encyclopaedia...'

'And as oblivious as you were at that age.'

'It's still not worth the risk,' he whispered as he snaked his arms around Draco's waist.

'What! And this isn't the biggest risk of all?'

'Do you want to sleep in another of the pods?'

'You know I don't. But don't you think this is going to cause us problems?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, Ry, that I want to wake up in your arms every morning. Merlin,' Draco buried his head into Harry's shoulder. 'See what you've done, you've turned me into this soppy twat who's gone all mushy over a guitar and sharing a bed. I have never... I blame the hair!' he exclaimed.

'The hair?'

'Yes, your cursed mop!'

'What's my hair got to do with anything?'

'I like it.'

'You do?'

'Yes, don't ever get it cut. You attractive git!'

'Oh!' Harry paused. 'Talking of attractive, I think I'm going to have to talk to Lilith.'

'Attractive?'

'She seems to quite like reminding me how attractive you are, not that I disagree, but it's becoming rather awkward.'

'Hmm! She obviously has good taste.'

'How do you feel about letting her know about us?'

'It's too much of a risk, Potter!'

'It's just, since Easter, she's getting bolder in her attempts to get us together and... if the agency approve... if this is really going to happen... she's going to find out at some point.'

Just over a week after the Malfoy room incident, Harry was sitting in his study marking the fifth-year's mock-O.W.L. papers when there was soft knock on his door.