"Are you sure?" Draco asked and tilted his head so his ear was closer to Pansy's fast-moving lips.

"I'm positive," Pansy whispered a little too loudly. Several students looked their way, but the knot of Gryffindors standing on the other end of the hallway didn't appear to hear them. Pansy knitted her brow and lowered her voice. "Daphne swears it's what she heard. The Weasley girl point-blank accused Potter he was gay."

Draco sneaked a glance at Potter's morose expression. The renowned Defeater of the Dark Lord grinned at something Finnigan said. The late afternoon sun lit up his face making him look untroubled and content, but the mood swing had been too sudden to be real.

"But, he denied it," Draco mused more than asked.

"Well, yes, but when your own girlfriend claims you're gay . . ." Pansy giggled. "She would have noticed, wouldn't she?"

A wicked smile curled Draco's lips. "I dare not think what he asked of her to make her draw that conclusion." He gave an exaggerated shudder. Pansy covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her laughter.

Potter glanced their way, but looked at Finnigan again before he could meet Draco's eyes. His expression turned serious again.

Draco reached into his pocket to wrap his fingers around his wand. "You're positive they've broken up, though?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Potter.

"I heard the Weasley girl say so herself." 

"Brilliant." Draco grinned widely. 

Ever since the war had ended, bad things refused to happen to the glorified Chosen One. Draco hardly had anything to mock him about; except his glasses, his lack of fashion sense and his poor choice of friends, but no one found those insults amusing anymore. Other students tended to stare at Draco oddly when he commented on Potter's pitiful appearance. Blind idiots. Just because Potter defeated the Dark Lord — well, no, annoyed the Dark Lord until the latter couldn’t stand it anymore and had no choice but to commit suicide — they refused to see that their hero was a scrawny, four-eyed mop. And a ponce, apparently. 

Finally, Draco had the chance to provoke and ridicule the unsightly git. Smiling, Draco straightened his back and walked purposely toward the Gryffindors. He heard Pansy groan beside him, but he ignored her.

He reached Potter quickly, leaving a mere few feet of distance between them, and said loudly, "So tell me, is it true, Potter? I heard the Weaslette dumped you because you weren't a man enough for her." Draco paused dramatically. "Or should I say because she wasn't a man enough for you?"

The hallway went silent as Potter looked at him in confusion. Draco thought he could see Potter's cheeks losing colour. Silence lasted for a couple of moments and then Potter finally spoke.

"Go bully some first years, Malfoy. That's where your true talent lies." Potter turned around toward Granger in clear dismissal.

Draco's hand tightened around his wand. "I plan to do that later," he said. "I just wanted to give you my condolences. Why, the two of you were a heart-warming sight. Every time you walked into the Great Hall holding hands, my insides positively fluttered. Ask Pansy."

"They fluttered," Pansy said promptly.

"In fact," Draco continued when Potter turned toward him again, "sometimes they fluttered so much I had to run to the bathroom and vomit."

"Sounds like an indigestion problem to me," Ron Weasley commented. Draco ignored him.

"It seems horrid that you would break up just because Weaslette lacks some equipment. I'm sure there's a potion that would help her solve the problem."

A few snickers broke out and Draco was pleased to note that Potter's jaw clenched; his gaze was fully focused on Draco.

"If that were true, Malfoy," Potter said, "you'd have grown a pair a long time ago."

Laughter echoed in Draco's ears.

Bloody hell. Why was it so hard to insult Potter these days?

"I noticed you didn't deny it, Potter." Draco raised his voice above the laughter. "So, it's true? The great hero likes it up the arse? Spent too much time with Dumbledore, I imagine."

The laughter stopped and Potter lunged forward, but several hands held him back and stopped him from charging.

"I can't believe you have the nerve to even say his name!" Potter growled.

Despite himself, Draco felt his cheeks flush a little. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned Dumbledore; perhaps he went too far considering he had tried to kill the old man. Something he was never charged for. Draco cheeks burned harder. Bloody Potter. He was so hard to provoke, lately. He acted as though Draco had become utterly irrelevant, and whatever he said was unimportant and unworthy of Potter's precious time. But now, finally, Potter looked at him with that same fire in his eyes that was always reserved for Draco. It was exhilarating to see he hadn't lost the ability to unsettle Potter. He might have gone too far, but it was worth it.

Draco looked at Weasley's hand splayed over Potter's chest as he held the Gryffindor hero back.

"Lower, Weasley. He wants you to touch him lower."

As expected, Weasley quickly snatched his hand away, his ears reddening. Potter looked hurt.

"Aww, Weasley," Draco cried. "Now you made him sad. Be a good friend and give him a kiss. Isn't that what you normally do? Potter does like them redheaded, freckled, dumb enough to stand him and poor enough to need him." Draco waggled his eyebrows at Potter. "All this time you were after the brother, not the sister, weren't you, Potter?"

Potter's eyes narrowed into slits and Weasley looked murderous. Draco grinned in satisfaction, but then another voice startled him.

"Jealous, Malfoy? Why so interested in Harry's sex life? Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

A few onlookers giggled.

Draco shot a glare toward the idiot who had spoken. Surprisingly, it was Longbottom. Bloody Neville I-acquired-snark-and-balls-together-with-my-long-hair Longbottom.

Draco sneered at him. "Don't worry, Longbottom. Weasley is your only rival. I wouldn't touch Potter if my life depended on it." Draco grimaced in Potter's direction in time to see Potter's gaze turn incredulous. Horrified, Draco replayed his own words in his mind, grasping their meaning and untruthfulness belatedly. He had touched Potter when his life depended on it.

The hallway looked too small and felt too stuffy, suddenly. Draco scrambled for something to say so he could leave with his dignity intact.

"I think I'll go and find Weaslette," he said at last. "Offer her some proper manly comfort. I hear she's not one to say no."

It happened in an instant. One second Potter was safely restrained by his friends and the next he was right next to Draco and his fist collided painfully with Draco's jaw. Draco didn't even have time to raise his wand, even though it was in his hand. He flew backwards and hit the floor as pain exploded in his head. His vision blurred and he tasted blood. Panting, he struggled to get up, but everything spun too much. He heard Pansy's worried questions, but ignored her in favour of opening his eyes and focusing on Potter. When his vision finally cleared, he saw Potter standing above him, his expression full of contempt.

"I should have left you in that fire," Potter said darkly and turned around.

Shame hit Draco like a Bludger. He had tried so hard not to think about that day, mortified that Potter had rescued him like some sort of damsel in distress. He always wondered if Potter regretted it. Draco supposed he now had his answer.

As Potter's words rang in his ears, Draco shot up, ignoring his dizziness and glaring at Potter's retreating back.

"You're a raving lunatic, Potter," he snarled. "You should be restrained! Incarcerous!" 

Ropes flew from the tip of Draco's wand just as Potter spun around and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" 

Draco tried to hold onto his wand, but it was wrenched savagely out of his hand. It flew up and spun in midair, sprouting long thick ropes. Draco stood frozen as his wand — his stupid wand, still confused about its true owner — sent the ropes in Draco's direction.

He had no time to run or duck. Ropes coiled around his thigh and pulled him sharply back down to the floor. He watched in amazement, despite the pain in his head and back, as the ropes wrapped themselves around Potter's waist and neck, pulled him forward, and sent him flying toward Draco.

Draco cried out as Potter landed squarely on top of him, knocking the air out of his lungs and slamming his head against the ground once again. 

However, the ropes weren't done.

The rope around Potter's neck extended and snatched Draco's right arm, forcing it across Potter's back and tying it firmly to Potter's waist. And to make things worse, his left hand was yanked even lower. Potter choked and gasped, either because the rope around his neck was too tight, or because his left hand was bound firmly against Draco's thigh, pressing snugly against Draco's crotch.

The hallway went silent and the ropes went still, but not before squeezing their bodies as tightly together as humanly possible. Draco panted in pain and astonishment, staring up at shocked green eyes a few inches above his face. He could feel Potter's heart hammering against his chest as Potter's warm breath tickled his lips. He couldn’t do much but hope desperately that no one — including Potter — noticed that his left hand was forced to cup Harry Potter's surprisingly firm arse.