Harry was drunk. No, he was more than drunk. He was very drunk. The lights in the Leaky Cauldron started to flicker in his vision as colors blurred together. He could hear his voice start to slur many words all into one long string. He set down the glass that had held the fire whiskey in it only moments ago, down harder than he should have, and the sounded resounded through his head.

He was still smiling though. Smiling much more than under the circumstances, he felt he should be, but his rational mind was lost somewhere, drowning in the alcohol he had consumed. But he was smiling still because his mind was drowning in fire whiskey.

But his rational mind could still recognize insults.

“Look, it’s Saint Potter drowning in fire whiskey and self pity,” drawled a familiar voice. It too was slurred with alcohol, and a lot closer than it would have been if these two particular people weren’t completely and totally drunk.

“Hello, Ferret,” he chirped cheerfully, throwing the insult back at Malfoy, turning to look at the other person quizzically. Malfoy was looking at him through narrowed silver eyes, looking elegant for all the alcohol he had drunk. “Here to make my life a living hell?” He grinned, the alcohol clearly taking over his mind.

“Well, yes,” Draco admitted, smirking a bit. “Actually the thought had crossed my mind.”

“I’m sorry. You’re late. Everyone else seems to have done the job for you,” Harry said, signaling for another shot of fire whiskey. It came, seconds later, and Harry reached blindly for it. He found it after several tries, and gulped it down, enjoying the heat that slid down his throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Malfoy, I’m going to collapse somewhere.” He pushed past the other, and headed for the door.

The air was cold, biting into the heat that filled him, the heat that filled him in the form of alcohol. He breathed out, watching with a fascination he was sure was the alcohol as his breath swirled in puffs of steam, and then vanished.

He started to walk, half stagger if you wanted to say what he was actually doing, in the direction he thought would take to him a bed. He hoped.

“You’re bloody drunk,” Malfoy sneered from somewhere behind him.

“Really?” Harry asked, feigning surprise. “I hadn’t noticed!”

“Hn.”

“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy? I’m trying to go home…” He decided to leave off the I think that he could have added at the end. He turned slowly, so as not to fall over on his face, and looked at the sneering blonde. “What do you want?”

“To make your life a living hell, of course,” the blonde said, taking care not to slur his words as much.

The dark haired boy doubled over and laughed.

“What?” Draco asked, looking almost confused.

“You’re as bloody drunk as I am,” Harry said after a moment, when he felt like he could talk without laughing too much to be understood.

“I most certainly am not. You are much more drunk than I.”

It was absurd to be arguing about who was drunker at the minute. They were both drunk enough that it didn’t really matter.

Harry sighed and turned away again, and started to walk.

“Hn. How very like you. Scared little Potter is running away.”

Harry turned, faster than someone who was drunk was supposed to be able to, wand in hand, to see Draco, also with his wand readied. The word left their lips at the same moment.

“Expelliarmus!”

It made one sound in the night air. No one passing would have been able to tell that two people had said it, their voices had meshed together too well.

Harry felt his wand leave his hand as he saw Draco’s do the same. A minute later they were at an impasse.

They scowled at each other.

“Now what?” Harry asked impatiently. He didn’t have to wait long for the answer as Draco launched himself at him in a tackle. Harry made a small “oomph!” as Draco connected with his stomach. Time seemed to slow as the two of them went over backwards, and then seemed to speed up as Harry hit the ground with a thud, Draco on top of him and pinning him there.

Harry didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made his stomach flutter at the sight of the blonde laying on top of him, puffs of vaporous breath framing his pale face with every breath he exhaled, or something else entirely. But it happened all the same.

He didn’t waste his time in pondering it, though. Instead he reacted instantly, swinging a hand at Malfoy’s head, and feeling a fleeting moment of satisfaction as it connected with the blonde’s cheekbone. The satisfaction was gone when Malfoy’s hand came out of nowhere and snapped his head to the side, splitting his lip. A fraction of a second later he felt that hand slide into his hair and jerk his face roughly back to look up at Draco. The pale skinned hand connected again, and again Harry’s head was snapped to the side, a single drop of blood falling from his mouth to the ground beneath them.

But The Boy Who Lived had taken worse than this, from worse than Draco. And he simply let Draco hit him again, before he brought his hand up to the hand still in his hair. He wrapped his fingers around the wrist and squeezed, pressing into the tendon, and was relieved to feel Malfoy’s fingers release their hold on the black strands.

Once the hand wasn’t in his hair anymore Harry could push Malfoy off of him, using only one hand, the other still holding onto Draco’s wrist to keep him from grabbing his hair again.

There was surprise in Draco’s eyes, he could see it clearly. It was a flash in the molten silver of the blonde’s eyes. Harry took that opportunity to push Draco further off of him. Draco recovered though, and the push rocked him back onto his heels, then he leapt forward again, knocking Harry back down. There was a scrabble, in which Harry knocked his elbow against Draco’s temple and Malfoy saw spots for a second, and then both Draco and Harry’s hands slid into their familiar holds around each other’s necks. But this time there was no professor to pull them apart before one killed the other.

Harry struggled to breathe, looking up at Draco from the ground, and felt the flutter in his stomach again. Something happened in Draco too, he saw that in the other man’s eyes, another flash, again of surprise but this one was different than the first surprise.

And suddenly Draco’s hands weren’t strangling him any longer, but pulling him roughly forward, even as Harry did the same, their motions nearly mirror images of the other, and Harry’s bruised and split lips met with Draco’s.

There was a battle for dominance, there always was between the two of them, and this time Draco won out. Draco pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth, running the tip along the top of the other’s mouth.

Suddenly Draco’s mouth was gone, and along with it the weight that kept Harry pinned to the ground, and before Harry could voice a protest, he was jerked forcefully to his feet by the collar of his now bloodstained shirt. He started to open his mouth again, in protest, and Draco’s was there long enough to shut him up.

Draco reached behind him, groping for their wands, pressing Harry’s into his hand when he had found them, and then he Apparated them out of the middle of the street. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, and he was lucky he didn’t get Splinched. All he knew was the place that they now were, had a bed.

Harry put his hands on Draco’s arm, the one still holding the collar of his shirt, and looked around, smiling a little when he saw the bed.

Draco pulled his closer by the collar again, and kissed him again hard enough to bruise his already bruised lips.

The next thing Harry knew they were on the bed, fumbling with the fastenings on each other’s clothes. Harry heard the buttons pop off his shirt as Draco got impatient with fingers that could work the button for all the alcohol they had consumed. Fabric slid over skin, leaving it bared to the air.

The world was already slightly out of focus, for all that Harry was still wearing his glasses, but it went to a complete blur as Harry’s glasses were lost in their movements. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped they didn’t get squished.

And then Draco’s hands were on the button on his pants, pulling it hastily open. He slid his fingers to the zipper and pulled it down, and Harry felt his pants move off his hips.

Harry pulled Draco's shirt over his head, watching with amusement as his hair fell around his face. Like water... He thought absently.

And then skin was on skin, as they fought each other for dominance. Harry was under Draco, and he tried to roll them over, reverse the odds so to speak. But he failed, and Draco looked down at him with a drunken smirk, none of it's beauty lost for all that it has been enhanced with scotch. Harry thought it was scotch. He could taste it.

Their hips fit together perfectly. Bone against bone. They were perfectly matched, with their Quidditch honed bodies, though it's been month since either of them played. Draco grinded his hips against Harry's, and Harry could feel the other's erection, knew what he wanted, despite his drunken haze, because hell! He wanted it too!

He kissed Draco, letting his tongue explore Draco's mouth. Draco's hand ran down Harry's side, paused at his hip a moment, and then continued to Harry's own erection. Deft fingers flicked there a moment, and Harry gasped into Draco's mouth, and then the hand continued on it's way. Harry felt the fingers at his entrance and he deepened the kiss, expectant.

He got disappointed as Draco pulled first his hand, and then his lips, away. The blonde smirked.

"Oh, fuck me already, Malfoy," Harry said, words slurred still, as he looked up into those cocky, self assured silver eyes.

"Well, if you're going to ask so nicely..."

Draco reached for his discarded pants and stuck his hand into one of the pockets, pulling out a small jar. Harry smiled.

"Always prepared, are we?"

"And you're not?" Draco put on a look of shock. "And here I thought St. Potter had his pic of all the fish in the sea..."

"And it's a wonder I'm here with you..."

Draco mock snarled as he unscrewed the top of the jar, dipped his fingers in, and then screwed the top back on. Harry snickered as he discarded the jar with his pants again, and then pulled Draco in for another kiss.

Draco's fingers found their way back to Harry's entrance, and he pushed a finger inside. The brunette moaned into his mouth, and he inserted another finger, and then after another moment, another. He could feel Harry pressing into him, and he was all too happy to give Harry what he wanted, and to take what he himself wanted.

He slipped his fingers out of Harry, and pulled back a little.

"Come on, Malfoy..."

"Shut up, Potter," Draco repositioned himself and then bent to kiss the other again, biting down on Harry's lip, drawing blood, and entering him in that moment.

Harry was torn between focusing on one pain or the other. Draco released his lip from between his teeth, and was just kissing him now, and Harry could taste the blood in his mouth. He felt Draco pull out a little and then rock forward again, pushing deeper inside him. He moaned heatedly into the blonde's mouth.

Draco broke the kiss, trailing his tongue over the other's neck, biting gently, and not-so-gently, leaving marks on Harry's neck that would be there for days. And Harry, for his part, licked the blood from his lips, and pressed closer to Draco.

Soon sweat glistened on their skin, one pale the other slightly tanner.

"Draco..." Harry moaned, softly at first, and then again, and slightly louder.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco snapped back, thrusting deeper, biting Harry's neck again.

"Draco..." he moaned again.

"Shut up," Draco said again, more impatient this time. It was the third time that Harry moaned his name that he brought his lips back to Harry's. He kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough that Harry whimpered because of his bitten lip, because Draco just wanted Potter to shut up.

It was mere minutes later that Harry broke the kiss, gasping for breath as he orgasmed. It was not even five seconds after that when Draco came, and he collapsed on top of the other. After a minute of catching their breath they moved, disentangling themselves, and then once more collapsed next to each other, and Harry twined his arms around Draco. Draco didn't return the favor.

They fell asleep like that, and in the morning, when Harry woke up with a splitting headache, the former Slytherin was gone, with not a trace that he had been there in the first place. And a sudden sense of relief filled the former Gryffindor. After all, they were on opposite sides of this war, and a night together could be deadly.