Chapter Text
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Harry, Ron and Hermione listlessly padded into the dining hall, still in their practice clothes. Exhausted, they slumped into their seats. The boys sat up as the aromas of the day’s lunch were wafting across the room. As soon as the platters appeared on the table, the boys dived into slices of roast chicken, salad and steamed vegetables. Hermione reached for the salad bowl and disinterestedly piled a few spoonfuls onto her plate. She tried to ignore the noises the boys made as they stuffed the food onto their mouths.
“Is that all you’re having?” asked Harry through a mouthful of half-chewed food.
“I had a really large breakfast,” Hermione answered. “I’m still full from this morning,” she added, rubbing her flat stomach to illustrate her point.
Ron’s eyes darted over to her bony sternum. “Err… right,” he said without conviction. “So you don’t mind if we….”
“Go on,” she answered wearily. The boys dived in for third helpings. After pushing her leaves around the plate again she got up suddenly.
“I’ll see you boys later,” she said as she headed towards the door.
“What’s up with her?” asked Harry.
“She’s worried sick about the final choreography exam coming up. I think she secretly wants a new partner,” said Ron miserably.
“No! Never!” said Harry loyally. “You two have been partners ever since we started here,” said Harry, grinning at the memory.
“Yeah... well. Things change in seven years,” answered Ron.
At that moment the atmosphere changed. The doors opened and a tall, slim, pale blond boy sauntered in. The conversation around the room gradually died down as girls and boys alike looked up from their plates, or turned away from their gossiping friends to openly gape.
Draco Malfoy was used to the effect he had on people, and played up to it shamelessly. He wore a unitard of the palest grey, pulled down to just below his tiny waist with the shoulder straps hanging either side of his arse. It emphasised his cold grey eyes, as did the black mascara and slightly smudged eyeliner he wore. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his flawless alabaster skin. A small silver nipple ring sparkled in the light. He slowly strolled across the room, pausing under a shaft of sunlight shining through the skylight, claiming it as the spotlight he knew was rightfully his. It illuminated his long platinum hair, creating a halo of soft light around his upper body. Knowing full well all eyes were well and truly upon him, he turned a slow three-sixty before he caught Harry’s eyes on him. At that exact moment, he turned up his mocking smile a notch and, slightly jutting his hip sideways, shoved his hand down his waist and adjusted his crotch, as he stared into Harry’s eyes.
Somewhere across the room a tray was dropped to the floor, breaking the silence.
Harry squirmed in his seat, grateful for the protection the table was offering him. He blushed scarlet. Smirking triumphantly at Harry’s discomfort, Draco bee-lined it to their table and sat down on Hermione’s vacated seat. His eyes not leaving Harry’s, he pulled a half-empty water bottle out of his backpack and after unscrewing the cap, drank all of it, letting some escape and dribble down his pointed jaw and slide down his gleaming, hairless chest.
At last he drawled, “Hello, Potter. Weasel.”
“I don’t recall inviting you to join us, Malfoy,” muttered Ron.
“I thought you’d consider it an honor, having Hogwarts’ most promising dancer join you for lunch.”
“Yeah, well I just lost my appetite,” snapped Ron, standing up and pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “Coming, Harry?”
“I just about did,” he thought. Harry didn’t need to look down at the bulge in his sweat pants, grateful that he’d slipped them on after the last class. If he was still in just his unitard he would be dying of embarrassment by now, feeling a moist spot spreading through the thin cotton fabric. Why was it suddenly so hot in here, he wondered, suddenly feeling panic stricken as he looked around the room desperately.
Malfoy was enjoying himself at Harry’s discomfort enormously. He had quite a reputation at Hogwarts, and not just for his skill and grace as a dancer. But Harry wasn’t the only one being turned on. Harry’s wide, green, innocent eyes were intoxicating to Draco. It would be many years before Harry finally realised how appealing innocence truly was.
Draco smiled and reached over towards Harry, who looked startled. Still looking into his eyes, and, moving a few inches from his dark-haired classmate's hand, he picked up a long green bean from Harry’s plate and licked it slowly. Harry blushed. Draco laughed.
“Come on, Potter, we’ll be late. We don’t need to keep Snape waiting.”
Harry grabbed his backpack, holding it in front of him as he stood up. They walked out of the dining room, Harry first, with Draco following.