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Door Number Three

Originally posted as a snippet to hpslash@yahoogroups as a seqel to this short piece (requires membership in the group to read) by HouseSlytherin. Original message:
HouseSlytherin's wonderful fic snip took over my brain and made me write this,
and she's been nice enough to let me play in her sandbox, so here you all
go. Quoting from her original at the top:

On Sun, 20 Aug 2000 wrote:

> "Shove it *where,* Potter?"  His voice was almost . . . a purr.
> Harry felt it send a weird tingle through the core of his body.
> Completely taken aback by this sensation and Malfoy's new approach,
> all he could do was stare blankly, mouth hanging slightly open.  The
> silky smile changed to a smirk, and Malfoy swept past them
> triumphantly.
> Ron gaped after him, then turned to stare at Harry.  The shock in his
> face mirrored Harry's own.
> "Harry," Ron said flatly, "I think he just came on to you."
> Harry blinked stupidly for a moment.  "Did he?" he asked finally.
> "Yeah."  Ron was already over it, having reasoned it out in his own
> mind, and hastened to reassure his stunned companion.  "But don't look
> like that, I bet he just did it to throw you off.  Be just like him.
> C'mon, they're not going to hold lunch up for us."
> "Uh . . . yeah."  Harry followed after his friend, trying to ignore
> the strange feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't eat much, preoccupied with finding a way to stare at the Slytherin table without being noticed. Malfoy was conveniently seated on the far side of the table, with no one sitting directly across from him. *He* wasn't having any trouble eating, Harry noted resentfully, watching the slim hands gracefully maneuver knife and fork.

Ron nudged him warningly. "Don't let him get to you. He'll just do it again if you let on it's bothering you."

Harry suddenly grinned broadly as an idea hit him. "Good."

Ron nearly choked on his juice. "Huh?"

"Next time he tries it, I'll come on to him back," Harry said, already imagining things to say. Maybe he'd suggest finding someplace private...

Ron was staring at him as if he'd sprouted tentacles. "Uh, you will?"

"And then we can watch him try to back off," Harry explained hastily.

"Oh! Right!" Ron grinned. "That's great! I can't wait to see his face."

They deliberately left the lunch room by the east door, the one near the Slytherin table. Malfoy was obligingly loitering in the hall near the entrance to the dungeon where Potions was held. He had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall with a smug expression, and Crabbe and Goyle were lurking about as usual.

"So, Potter, given any thought to the question?" Malfoy purred as they approached.

That same quivery feeling was in his stomach again. Harry ignored it and put on what he hoped was a seductive expression, widening his eyes as he stepped close. "I couldn't think of anyplace, but you're welcome to try and *find* one," he said as invitingly as he could manage, putting his hand on the wall near Malfoy's head and leaning in.

Malfoy looked shocked for a split second, then his eyes slid half-shut and his voice got even silkier. "Well, where should I start looking?" He reached out and slipped two fingers between the top two buttons of Harry's robes, rubbing the fabric gently.

Harry froze. That wasn't how Malfoy was supposed to react. On the verge of jerking away, he caught himself. If he let Malfoy get away with this now, he'd never hear the end of it -- Malfoy would be making passes at him until graduation. He forced a slow smile. "Oh, I don't know. Use your imagination."

Malfoy's smug expression faltered a little bit. Then it came back, full-force, and Malfoy actually flipped the top button of Harry's robes open. One finger slipped past the collar to stroke the side of Harry's neck gently "Hmm, I don't think this would do..."

The finger was warm and smooth on his skin, and Malfoy had somehow managed to find a sensitive spot. Harry was proud of how level his voice sounded as he said, "You'll just have to keep looking, then."

Malfoy's eyes didn't look sleepy at all anymore. Fascinated, Harry watched them go smoky and dark as the finger traced a tender line up his neck and over his jawline. Malfoy's other hand came up and cupped his head, sliding into his hair. "Well, what do we have here?" Malfoy whispered, tracing Harry's lips with the tip of his finger, teasing the lower lip gently.

Harry parted his lips, trying to think of something to say, and Malfoy's finger slipped inside and rested against his tongue. Salty, with the faintest tang of sweetness overlying -- he remembered watching Malfoy lick a bit of honey off his fingers after dessert. Involuntarily, he curled his tongue around it, and Malfoy's eyes were so wide and shocked he thought he might fall into them.

Malfoy cleared his throat a couple of times, and his voice when he finally spoke was faint. "This does seem more promising."

Harry let the finger slide out of his mouth, a little shocked at himself. He had to swallow before he could speak. "So what exactly was it you were planning to shove?" he said, his voice wavering a little.

Malfoy suddenly smiled, wickedly, and said, "I don't know -- but you're welcome to try and *find* something." And then he leaned back a little further and pushed his hips forward, and Harry felt a sudden pressure against his groin, warm and hard even through the layers of clothing between them.

Harry locked his jaw on some sound trying to come out of his throat that he knew would completely humiliate him. It wasn't anything close to words, words had gone somewhere beyond his reach, apparently along with anything resembling sense, because his own hips were pushing back, and the hand cupping his head was pulling him closer. Malfoy was going to kiss him, and he was going to let him, and he was going to like it and then he probably *was* going to make that sound, and then he'd have to leave Hogwarts and spend the rest of his life living in the Dursleys' cupboard because he'd never be able to look anyone in the face ever again.

"What is going on here?" Snape's voice sliced between them and Harry nearly fell over between his own panicked attempt to get back and Malfoy's frantic shove. Hands caught him from behind, and he was confused for a moment before he remembered in absolute horror that it was Ron--Ron had been there the whole time, Ron had seen him--! He stared forward, unable to turn around and meet Ron's eyes.

Pinned under Snape's stare, Malfoy had his eyes fixed on the floor. His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing as if he'd just finished a Quidditch match. His lips were shining and wet where he'd licked them.

Feeling lightheaded, Harry dragged his eyes away from Malfoy only to find Snape staring at him with the strangest expression he'd ever seen on his face. He felt himself going red and hot, and he looked away hastily. He was aching in places that had never hurt before, that he'd never even *felt* before, and he wasn't sure whether he ought to be grateful to Snape for interrupting or hate him for it.

After a moment, Snape said, very stiffly, "Go downstairs and get ready for class. I don't expect to see this sort of behavior in the hallways again."

Malfoy bolted for the stairs instantly, and Crabbe and Goyle trailed after him, looking utterly confused.

Surprised enough to forget his embarrassment, Harry stared at Snape. No detention? No hundreds of points from Gryffindor?

The professor caught his look and scowled at him. "*Now*, Potter," he snapped.

Ron saved him again, almost bodily dragging him down the stairs and out from under Snape's glare. Harry still couldn't look at him, and Ron didn't say anything as they half-stumbled down towards the classroom. Just outside the door, Harry froze. Malfoy was in there.

Ron cleared his throat. "You weren't really going to?" he asked a little plaintively.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He stared at the ground.

Ron was silent. Then he said, with conviction, "You're completely out of your mind."

"You noticed," Harry said morbidly. After a moment, he swallowed and asked nervously, "Are we still friends?"

"Yes, of course we're still friends!" Ron said. "I've just got one more friend with rotten taste in men than I thought."

Harry blushed. "I didn't *mean* to," he said defensively.

"Well, maybe you'll get over him." Ron said, without much hope.

"I haven't even done anything with him yet!" Harry said. "And I'm not going to, either."

At that moment, the door swung open and Malfoy came out, looking irritated. He froze, seeing Harry, and visibly swallowed.

He really was awfully good-looking. And he'd be a lot less annoying if his mouth was kept occupied. Harry's mind immediately suggested several ways to accomplish just that, and he felt his cheeks start to burn again.

"What do you want?" Ron said rudely, glaring at Malfoy.

Malfoy turned on Ron, eyes flashing. "My *supplies*, Weasley, if you don't mind getting out of the way," he spat, gesturing at the stairs that Harry and Ron were currently blocking.

Ron rolled his eyes and moved out of the way. It didn't occur to Harry that he ought to move too until Malfoy was right there next to him. The stairwell was too narrow for two people to pass without touching, Harry realized for the first time. The whole class was usually going the same way.

And of course, Malfoy had decided to stop just in front of him, so now Harry couldn't get out of the way without being the one to brush up against him. They stared at each other.

Then Malfoy's lips quirked into an odd, reckless smile. He stepped forward and kissed Harry, hard and sweet and fast, and then he squeezed past and was gone up the stairs.

Stunned, Harry touched his lips with shaking fingers. Ron was gawking at him with an expression of horror. "He *kissed* me," Harry said, blankly.

"Are you okay?" Ron said. He sounded queasy.

Harry jerked and yanked his hand away from his mouth, blushing. "Fine!"

Ron eyed him doubtfully. "Come on, let's get into the classroom before he comes back."

Harry trailed after him, still a bit dazed. Malfoy had kissed him. He'd been kissed by Draco Malfoy. Their lips had actually touched. Malfoy had put his tongue in his mouth. "I *didn't* like it!" he said, then realized that he'd said that aloud when Ron turned to stare at him. He gulped and put his books down on the lab bench and pretended to be very busy looking at the recipe for today's potion.

The rest of the class started filing in a few minutes later, chattering and gossiping as usual, and Ron left him alone to go talk with Hermione in hushed voices. Harry was sure they were talking about him, and carefully didn't look up from his text.

And then a white piece of paper slipped under his arm and unfolded itself behind the cover of his book.

"Third door on the right from the staircase that only goes up on Sundays. After class."

Harry stared. He knew the room, it was the one where damaged furniture was kept until Filch had time to repair it. The note, satisfied that he'd read it, folded itself back up and disintegrated into ash. He looked across the aisle. Malfoy had come back and was busy at his bench, setting up his cauldron and tripod. He didn't glance over, but there was a tension in the line of his neck that said he felt Harry's eyes on him.

Snape swept into the room and began the class abruptly, and Harry gratefully turned to the intricacies of brewing a Fulminating Potion. For two hours, at least, he could pretend the world wasn't about to change.