Disclaimer: They belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. I’m not making any profit, save for indulging my perverted imagination.

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Timeline: 6th year at Hogwarts, in Professor Sexy Snape’s Potions.

A/N: This is my first HP fic that I’ve ventured to put out, and my first ever slash. I just don’t do slash. I honestly don’t, but for some reason a muse with silver eyes and silver hair compelled me to, with a little help from his friends. And you’ll have to pardon the hostile way the two characters erm...come together. I’m a sappy bitch at heart, so there will be mucho romance in the future. I just needed to get this out of my system. And in case you’re wondering, more HP fic in the future, not all of it slash.

My thanks to Helene, Dez, Moonfire aka Kelli (I think her nicky should be her real name) and lastly to Liam aka Tailgunner...you seriously rock guys, I couldn’t make it without you.

Oh, and another shout out to whoever thinks this thing is decent: I LOVE YOU!!

A bit of a note to those who hate the story: Sorry you didn’t enjoy, but please flame off site at studentkatekat@yahoo.com. I’ll love you forever, too, if I can feel my agony in peace.

The title comes from the Madonna song “Sooner or Later.” Lyrics follow the story.

Part One

Potions could only have been worse else Harry was saddled to it for another minute long then he was already stuck for. Snape had been in a rather malicious mood when he paired Malfoy and Potter together over a cauldron, and Harry was sure he had seen a gleam of mirth somewhere in the Professor’s dark, dark eyes.

Harry might have coped, in fact, he told himself he would have coped with Malfoy, had it not been for a particularly snotty remark made towards him and Ron. Malfoy had tested Harry’s control over his anger so many times it was countless, and Harry had begun to think himself immune to his rival’s arched stare.

Ron had given Harry a look of dismayed sympathy from across the room, and Potter was going to shrug his shoulders when a derogatory and airy voice came from his left.

“What’s wrong, Potter,” he managed to sneer in a considerably loud voice while dropping honeysuckle in with the belladonna to simmer. “Missing your lover already?”

The remark had hit its desired home in Harry; of course there had been cracks about his and Ron’s rather close (too close, for some) relationship, but Harry used to be able to laugh the subtle comments off. It had worsened over the past year, for neither boy had a girlfriend to speak of. Harry was sure Ron had dated at least two or three times, but aside from a longstanding crush on Cho Chung, Harry had nothing. Malfoy had chosen the wrong insult at the wrong time, and he couldn’t help boiling over just a little.

“Go wank yourself Malfoy,” he snapped in what he tried to make a warning tone. It was in a voice much lower then the Slytherin’s had been.

He heard Malfoy chuckle and bend over the simmering cauldron again, muttering something that sounded to Harry’s ears like, ‘virgin.’

“Am not,” Harry hissed fiercely. Lie.

All he got in return to his indignation was another chuckle. His blood rushed even faster to the surface of his skin, coloring it a deep red that would have looked more fitting on Ron or maybe one of the twins.

Harry was going to forget about it and try and ignore the other boy leaned towards him in a conversational manner.

“That got your goat, didn’t it, Potter?” He wasn’t asking for a response, though Harry was trying to think quick to give him one. “Nah, I know you’re not a virgin.” Harry relaxed a little, thinking Malfoy might let up. “You’re a pansy,” he said in a simple tone. “You’ve been fucking the Weasley boy for years.”

“You would know to spot a pansy, wouldn’t you, Malfoy?” He knew he sounded childish and guilty, even, but couldn’t help his knee jerk reaction. As hard as he could try, not a single convincing insult was formulating. He glanced at his opponent and noted the bemused and haughty smile on his face. Rage coursed through him, and was welcome. It helped him think. “You’ve been fucking your daddy for years now, haven’t you? Makes you beg for it, doesn’t he?” Harry was nearly frothing in anger.

Of all the reactions he had anticipated out of Draco Malfoy, some including laughter, annoyance or even a pun at his expense, he did not anticipate the enemy turning whiter than his usual ghostly pallor. Harry intuited more than saw his hands clench into fists, but didn’t move fast enough when Malfoy tackled him.

“Bastard,” Draco raged, knocking over Harry and the potion in a spitting rage. “You fucking fag Potter,” he screeched, while Harry fought his fist away from the direction of his jaw.

“Ge’ off me, Malfoy,” Harry managed to choke out. He saw Snape’s towering form in front of the two of them sprawled on the floor, bellowing something Harry couldn’t hear and scowling.

“Off, Draco.” Malfoy didn’t respond to the teacher’s command, and this very possibly angered Snape further; now he’d have to take points off of his own house. “Off, I said,” he yelled, yanking the flustered blonde off of Harry with brutal strength.

Harry scrambled to his feet, rubbing the inside of his left forearm, the only place Malfoy had managed to hit. He glared intensely at him, and looked to Snape for his punishment. Gods knew he was going to be punished. The Boy Who Lived didn’t go around hitting The Boy Who Was Favored in Severus Snape’s class and get away with it scot-free.

“What was all this?” Snape was fixing his gaze on Harry, waiting for anything to pin him with.

“Professor Snape,” he heard a tiny voice say behind him. Ah, that’s right. Hermione was sitting right behind him in the next row of desks and had undoubtedly heard the goings-on, the meddlesome peeping tom that she was.

“Shut up, Granger.” Malfoy was panting. Harry started to wonder if what he said about Malfoy and his father was true. A shudder of disgust shook him, and Draco must have known why, because he couldn’t look Harry in the eye for a moment.

“Mr. Malfoy...” Snape’s tone was warning. Over the years, he had started to get sick of his prized student just a little. He turned to Hermione. “I appreciate your concern for your friend, Ms. Granger, but your opinion is not wanted here.”

“But I heard-” Hermione started to argue, voice made louder by ire.

Snape didn’t even throw her another glance, and tore both feuding students away with a chilly jerk of his chin.

“My private chambers, now.”

Harry had only been in Snape’s private rooms once, and hadn’t wanted to ever return. The place was almost dingy, and it was damp. Dark lighting, dark furniture...it felt like some castle prison, or maybe a bondage chamber. Harry got a good muffled laugh from the mental image of Snape bearing down on Malfoy with a whip and fishnet stockings.

Snape closed the doors to the antechamber living quarters quietly, and swung around to glare at them both again.

“I want to thank you for disrupting my class, Potter.” Harry jerked his chin up and formed the words of an argument, but Snape said Malfoy’s name too. “That little stunt will cost you fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and Draco that will be thirty for Slytherin.” Snape seemed almost pained to have to take points from his beloved house. “Alongside the points, each of you will spend two hours in the classroom for detention.” He paused. “Together.”

“No,” Draco nearly shrieked.

Harry said nothing.

“Class with be over in five minutes. I expect you to be well behaved before and during detention. I don’t care what you do when you’re not my responsibility.” He gave Malfoy a look that stated plainly, ‘you should have waited until after class.’

He lead them out, first Malfoy, then Harry, in a line that resembled an execution party. Harry resisted the urge to kick the back of the bastards calf.

Harry slumped in his chair obedient to Snape’s instructions, Malfoy slamming down next to him. They didn’t fidget, and Harry didn’t even look back when Ron sent him another sympathetic expression. He felt stupid enough as it was; he didn’t need pity to top it off.

Class was over, and once again they were given ungodly amounts of homework. Harry wrote it down in the neatest script he could manage, his hand trembling all the while. Slowly, one by one, students shuffled out of the classroom, each of the Gryffindor’s smiling at Harry with the same sympathy Ron had, and each of the Slytherin’s gave Draco a rooting expression before scowling at Harry. He pretended not to notice.

“Write a twelve-page essay on the formulas used to cure a vampire’s bite. I expect it to be a full twelve pages and without any mistakes before you leave this room.”

Harry fetched for his pen and started scribbling down in good form the first things he remembered from last weeks lessons and homework. Hermione had made him go over it with her about fifteen hundred times before she finally let him out of her strict studying clutches.

They wrote like that, steadily, for somewhere around fifteen minutes. Both students were startled when the door creaked open and Ginny Weasley stuck her attractive face inside the room.

“Professor Snape,” she asked in a cool voice.

“What is it?” Snape was correcting course work and hated to be interrupted, especially by a friend of Harry Potter’s.

“Professor McGonagall wants to see you immediately. She said it was an emergency.” She waited more than patiently for Snape’s reply. As always, it was punctuated by a scowl.

“Very well. But I’ll be back, and I expect the essays to be done when I am. No flailing around, either, Potter.” He rose from his desk and followed Ginny from the room.

“Bloody hell,” Malfoy burst when Snape was a good distance away from the room. “I can’t stand much more of this.”

Harry mumbled an agreement under his breath and it got Draco’s attention in his direction. Narrowing his eyes, he got up from his chair and sauntered lazily around to the other side of Harry’s chair.

“How you doing there, Potter,” he grinned easily, leaning over on his crossed arms to peer at Harry’s two page progress essay. He scanned it with his hawk silver eyes but Harry knew he didn’t give a damn about the content of the paper. There was something in Malfoy’s posture he didn’t like.

“What’s it to you? You don’t give a figs damn about whether or not I pass or fail.” Harry’s cheeks burned under Malfoy’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he admonished in a tone entirely two polite for Harry’s senses. “I figured I’d taken an interest in you, since you’ve obviously been so fascinated with my sex life, haven’t you?” He walked lazily back to the other side of Harry and perched his hips on the table. “So, what do you want to know?” Harry didn’t answer; he was having a hard enough time keeping his mouth from opening in shock.

“I...” he stammered.

“What’s wrong?” Draco moved his mouth into another sneering smile. “Can’t think of a way to ask me how his cock was?” Harry’s face went from red to green in a instant. “Does this kind of stuff turn you on? Do you watch Freddie and Georgie fuck? Does that get you off?” Malfoy leaned closer to Harry, until his face wasn’t even four inches away. “Or haven’t you tried it?” Malfoy looked over Harry appraisingly.

“Will you shut up, Malfoy!” He slammed his hands on the desk top, itching to slam them into Malfoy’s chest to get him to back off.

“No, you see, now I’m curious.” His eyes turning misty and heavy lidded, Draco leaned in even closer until they were nose to nose. His tone turning seductive, he asked Harry, “Do you want to know what its like, Potter? I can hardly see why you wouldn’t.” A knowing smile crept up, and Malfoy nodded, affirming something to himself. “Yeah, I can see it in you. You want to be fucked, Harry.”

He gave a little start from being addressed to for the first time as ‘Harry’ by Malfoy, and also by what Malfoy was saying to him. He opened his mouth to tell him to stick it up his arse when Malfoy used the plus of Harry’s open mouth as an advantage.

Harry had been kissed in his seventeen years enough to make him higher than a novice, but never had he had never been kissed by another male, other then a peck on the cheek from Fred and George at their graduation. He had never been French-kissed.

He knew without thinking that Draco had done this uncountable times. Harry thought again of Malfoy and his father and gagged into his mouth. Thankfully, or not so thankfully, he wasn’t sure of if he liked it, Malfoy pulled away.

The arrogant vixen of a man laughed at Harry’s repulsion.

“Come on, we could have a lot of fun, Harry.” There it was; his name again. Harry felt cats claws up his spine and tried to maneuver away from Draco as best he could. Draco leaned in with unfurled fingers and deftly ripped Harry’s long black cape off of his body.

“Will you knock it off, Malfoy,” Harry tried to demand while grabbing for his robe. Malfoy swung it in the air, just out of reach of Harry, and tossed it into a corner.

Another smug grin overtook Malfoy’s usually sneering face.

“I don’t believe I will, Harry, I don’t believe I will.”

Part Two

There was a rushing of blood swimming in Harry’s ears. He couldn’t think straight...he could barely see, even. His eyes centered in on Malfoy’s grinning and triumphant expression (Harry hadn’t uttered a protest for about a minute now).

“Mrs. Norris got your tongue,” the blonde Slytherin teased.

He was shedding his own robes, now, advancing towards him while Harry tried to sidestep him, managing to squeeze himself into a tight corner. Malfoy braced his hands on either side of the wall, forming a trap of limbs around Harry. His robe was unbuttoned, and Harry saw a white t-shirt underneath the parted black material before he jerked his head up to glare again.

“We have an hour and a half, Potter.” His voice was low; seductive. Harry shook his head to the side to clear away the word ‘seductive’ in the milieu of Draco Malfoy. It was now; up tight against a wall and evading the boy’s lips that he was reminded of his adversary’s heady sexuality. Never mind the scurrying thoughts he had about Malfoy in the Hogwarts dorm. This wasn’t what Harry thought it would be, or what he wanted.

The steadfast look of determination on Malfoy’s look let Harry know he had little to no choice and he felt his heart sink into his stomach, a stabbing feeling of nervousness rising in its place.

“Do we?” Harry had meant it to come out as a challenge, but yet again his voice betrayed him. He got an arched eyebrow and a snigger.

“Indeed, we do.”

A pale and tapered hand reached out at Harry’s face to bat away a strand of hair. The hand lingered longer than intended, trailing over Harry’s embarrassed cheek.

“Stop it, Malfoy.”

“That’s not my name.” He cocked his head to the side and brushed the underside of Harry’s jaw.

“The hell it isn’t,” he exclaimed, finally getting the commanding note to his voice back. Malfoy was unfazed.

“Draco.”

“And?”

“Just Draco, Harry.” There was a softness in Dr- Malfoy’s voice Harry wasn’t ready for, and he shivered away, not for the first time, from his touch.

“Please, don’t call me that.” More of a plea. Harry was infuriated with himself- if he was going to put up a fight, do it convincingly. It appeared, from the new laugh that came from him, Draco was thinking the same thing.

“You’re a fool, Harry. You know you want it as much as I do, right now.”

Please don’t look down, please don’t look down, Harry prayed ardently. He was blown to hell if Malfoy looked down and saw he had a major cockstand. Cursing himself and Draco, he wondered if the other man was psychic, for his head tipped down in the general direction of Harry’s waist and didn’t come up for several moments.

More pressure from Draco’s body as he rammed Harry firmly up against the wall. The tips of his glasses hit the stone wall and fell askew, knocking Malfoy’s face out of focus. Malfoy ripped them off when Harry reached to straighten them.

They were of nearly the same height, off by a millimeter or so, and their bodies rubbed in the same spots, creating identical reactions from both. Harry thought he was going to loose it when Draco curled his fingers around his neck and latched onto his mouth again.

“You know you want me,” he managed to breathe between kisses.

No reply was forthcoming. Harry couldn’t think of an objection, and he certainly was NOT giving Draco (he was calling him Draco now, then?) the benefit of agreement. He merely thrust his leg in-between Draco’s and tried to drag him closer, being paid pleased laughter in revenue.

“Oh, this is good,” Draco purred against Harry’s mouth. Harry didn’t answer, and waited for Draco to pull away so he could finish undressing. “Give me your tongue, come on,” he coaxed, blowing air on Harry’s lips. It felt unbearably weird to him, but he did what he was asked.

Frenzied kissing followed, and Harry was having a hard time to not rub against Draco’s leg like a dog in heat.

“You’re so pleasurable, Harry Potter.”

He managed a grumble this time, and threaded his hands behind Malfoy’s neck. Just as he was wishing he would never leave the vicinity from Malfoy’s snake-like tongue, he was pulled apart from him. His expression must have been sorely disappointed, for Malfoy wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cracked a smile.

“We need to get undressed, Potter.”

“Who said anything about getting undressed?” Then, he surprised them both by yanking Malfoy back to him with his collar.

“We can’t if we don’t,” Draco mumbled, arousal getting the better part of his usually urbane speech.

“Not yet,” Harry pressed hotly. The room was spinning now- all the base of gravity he had was connected to his grip on Malfoy.

Draco had lost the majority of his tongue’s purpose, and was now only using it to tease Harry’s mouth. It ran along the ridge of Harry’s upper lip, down, flicking in-between until it hit his teeth, gently forcing Harry’s mouth open again, and then, at last, rubbing slowly up against Harry’s tongue.

Groaning, Harry attempted to switch their positions so that Draco was on the receiving end of this torment. A censorious sound came from Draco’s throat, and he ‘tsked’ Harry, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“It’s mine to decide, Harry. None of your rush. We’ve got time.”

“Not much,” Harry said stubbornly, trying to rip at his pants to get them off.

Draco leaned his hips into the frame of Harry’s and rubbed in a slow, up and down pattern. He kissed Harry again, deepening the kiss when Harry took his hands away from his belt buckle and rapped them around Malfoy’s back.

“You’re going to come soon, aren’t you,” Draco asked him. Harry nodded slowly, reaching to tug the bottom of Draco’s white shirt from his trousers. “Yes, lets get this off then, now.”

A muffled groan of pleasure and relief came from deep inside Harry’s chest. Malfoy backed away, pulling the rest of his shirt out and off. He pushed his slack robes down past his hips, where they fell to the floor. Bare-chested, he jerked his chin to indicate Harry should become the same.

Harry quickly yanked his gray t-shirt off, reaching down again to the buckle at his waist. Draco only folded his arms over his chest and looked on at Harry, the bulge at his groin the only sign of his enjoyment. Harry was at rapt attention to Draco; he had never seen another male in this state, and it excited him in a way he couldn’t and didn’t want to explain.

Finally, he was naked, clothes strewn around the dungeon classroom, walking towards his arch enemy, eager as hell to make love to him. If he hadn’t been so horny, he would have laughed at himself.

“What do you want,” Draco asked him softly, in a tone that dripped with sexual lure.

“I want you.” Harry reached out to touch one of the locks of silver hair that drifted in front of Malfoy’s eyes. He didn’t get that far. Malfoy ducked out of Harry’s reach and shook his head.

“Not enough. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to..” Harry gulped down his confusion. How much clearer could it get? He didn’t know about this sort of thing- he was a virgin for a reason.

“You want me to what, Potter? Suck you off? Jerk you off?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you do something, Draco.”

“Something,” Malfoy hissed through bared teeth. “How about this?”

He moved quicker than Harry could register. Darting across the space between the two of them, Draco was standing in front of Harry in a spilt second, yanking his form up against his chest.

“Do you like that,” Harry was asked. He moaned in reply, sinking his head in the crook of Malfoy’s neck and shoulder. His skin was deathly white, Harry noted, even in the flush of activity.

“Yes, yes, I like that.”

A hand reached down to Harry’s erection and gave a swift tug.

“And that?”

Harry couldn’t answer, and leaned into Malfoy’s groping fingers. He sighed happily when they responded, wrapping themselves further around his penis.

“And that,” Draco demanded, much louder this time.

“Good,” Harry managed to mumble into Draco’s collarbone. “Again, please.”

True to form, Draco ran his fingers and palm up and down the length of Harry. He laughed gently when Harry shrieked into his chest and jerked wildly into his hands.

“I’ve always wanted to watch you come, Potter. It seems I‘m going to get my wish.”

Harry, beyond words again, mumbled something incoherent under his breath and tipped his head back up to kiss Malfoy. Draco took his cue and reached for his pants.

“You’re so close, Harry. I imagine I’ll have to take care of this when I get back to my room,” Malfoy said lightly. Harry didn’t venture to look at Malfoy’s erection.

Harry was close, very close, to coming, and the thrill of it took him by surprise. He looked up at Malfoy, confused by his sudden burst of yearning. Not a word was shared between the two, but so much more passed over their faces as Harry bent forward and pressured Draco’s mouth open for a searing kiss.

“Yes,” Draco encouraged as Harry’s eyes widened and fluttered closed. His orgasm was coming fast.

“Oh,” Harry murmured, startled by the intensity of Draco’s voice. His surprised word quickly turned into a drawling groan, and he felt the other boys speed and strength increase with each jerk.

“That’s it, Potter.”

Harry heard Draco whisper something like ‘you’re mine,’ but was too far gone to pay attention or analyze anything that went on. The smell of Malfoy was overpowering; dark and piquant, like dried lavender and cedar. It was the smell of him that tipped Harry over the edge, and he came, writhing and moaning into his enemy’s hands.

Dazed, Harry drew back to see Malfoy staring at him with the heavy-lidded eyes of a sated predator. He trembled as Draco smoothed wayward hair away from his forehead.

“That’s a good boy, Harry.” He turned guises by grinning cheekily. “Get dressed and we’ll see about those essays, hmm?”

He spun away from Harry, reaching lithely for him clothing and robes before Harry could utter a word. Harry felt for his own robes, and scanned the room for the rest of his clothes before gathering them up in his hands. He dressed quickly, and upon seeing Malfoy already dressed and staring at him intently, diverted his gaze to the floor.

“Cheer up.” His voice was not encouraging, more like an acerbic command. Then, he turned to both of their papers, and said the words ‘delletronna peape.’ Harry knit his eyebrows and tried to see what Malfoy had done. Instead, however, he was handed a twelve page essay, complete with his exact handwriting. Malfoy grinned at him, mischief in his eyes.

“How do you think I keep getting such good grades? I’m blonde, don’tcha know? Let’s go.”

Harry followed Malfoy out the door, unsure of what to do next.