Draco is not a pawn, and Harry had a choice.
They got up in the morning and met in the Slytherin common room, yawned and mused over homework as they wandered through the hallways towards breakfast. They cut a wide swath, but stuck close together. No one would touch this infamous duo, but there was the occasional hex thrown at an unprotected back.
There were glares saved for the Gryffindor tables as they swept by, and glares were received in turn. Sometimes insults were thrown their way, but they never responded. Neither felt they needed to stoop to that level with each other backing them up.
They sat down with the others of their kind and ate in a leisurely manner, wondering who deserved hexing next and who was sleeping with who and generally selectively manipulating the politics of the school. Or, at least Draco did. Harry couldn't be less interested unless it had something to do with himself or Quidditch.
They sit next to each other during classes, sharing notes and whispering when the teacher's back was turned. Normal teenage boys, except for, perhaps, their heritage.
Which showed up on one particular night in the form of an owl from the Malfoy patriarch.
Draco crumbled the paper in his hand and threw it across the room in a fit of temper. Harry carefully went after it and uncrumpled it, sitting down beside a sulking Draco to read the looping, careful writing. He didn't have to ask.
"What?!" he yelped as he reached the last sentence. "They can't do this to you!"
"They can and they will," Draco sighed, removing the paper from Harry's hands and carefully folding it and tucking it into his robes.
The letter had been the usual frosty well wishes and hints that came from the Malfoy mansion, but the postscript had been what was so disturbing: the Malfoy parents had decided that Hogwarts was not somewhere that the heir was getting enough of an education in certain areas - they wanted him tutored at home.
"But you don't have to do what they say. You're not their pawn, Draco."
Draco looked at Harry's pleading face and then down at his lap. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he rested his chin on his knees and said nothing. Harry got up and squeezed into the chair beside his best friend and wrapped an arm around him. Draco had been his friend since the very first day on the train, and they had spent innumerable hours together since then. His chest ached at the thought of loosing that, because it was no secret that the Malfoy family distinctly disliked anyone of a non-pure blood heritage.
Pressing a hesitant, chaste kiss to the side of Draco's blond head, they sat there until it was much too late before retiring to their chambers. Harry had already resolved to do something drastic.
Dumbledore stopped the removal of Draco by pulling a few strings after Harry bartered on his behalf. It was equally no secret that Dumbledore was no friend of the Malfoy's, and Harry was a great favorite of his. There were always games to be played. That was the first lesson taught to new Slytherin house members.
Draco entered the common room late one Saturday night looking rumpled and dissatisfied.
"So, how did it go?"
Harry had been waiting up for him in the common room, as usual for their nighttime forays.
"She gives the worst head of anyone I've ever fucked."
Harry's laughter echoed around the empty room and Draco dropped onto the couch beside him, head drooping onto Harry's shoulder.
"Isn't it so silly," he sighed, eyes fluttering between wakefulness and sleep. "This whole life we lead..."
Harry leant down and their lips met in a light caress. Harry backed off, flushed and suddenly unsure, but Draco made such a whimper when he pulled back that he cupped the back of his head and pressed their lips together again.
Draco made a soft noise deep in his throat and pushed Harry back, straddling his hips, pressing his hands against Harry's chest to hold him down as they kissed furiously.
"I thought you just had sex," Harry panted.
"I thought I just told you it was crap," Draco replied, pulling Harry's bottom lip between his teeth with a growl.
Draco could feel Harry's smile as lips were pressed to his neck. Merlin he had been wanting to do this for forever! Grabbing Harry's black-haired head, he looked at him seriously for a moment.
"Harry. You know I'm not just fucking around with you?"
"I kissed you, remember? Shut up and stop being the hero. That's my job."
Smirking delightedly, Draco bent down and pressed their lips together again, tongues meeting between the expanses of their faces, bodies arching together hungrily.
Harry was aching to be touched as Draco ravished his mouth, and his hand drifted down, sliding under the light fabric of his pajama pants and gently probing. A sudden tight grip lead to a gasp, which lead to Draco growling like a feral dog and yanking Harry's hand out to replace it with his mouth.
Harry's head fell backwards, stunned, at the feeling of Draco's hot wetness sliding around him. He felt a talented tongue find the cleft at the tip of his cock and tease it, causing a deep shudder to wrack his body. He desperately tried to hold back the pleading that was threatening to pour out of his mouth as he bit his lip and strained against invisible bindings.
He wasn't allowed to come like that, no, Draco stopped at the last minute, causing something between a cry of outrage and moan of supplication to make it past Harry's verbal barriers. But he could feel Draco's hard, straining dick press up against his thigh and dragged him up close enough to kiss and fit a hand around.
"Harry," Draco gasped at the last minute. "O-oh, Merlin, Harry, don't stop; if you love me don't stop...!"
Harry, upon hearing this, promptly let out a cry of his own, albeit a slightly less coherent one, and buried his face in Draco's sweaty shirt collar as they came together, hands on each other's pricks, bodies jerking with the final spasms of their orgasms.
Draco kept a sullen-yet-really-happy-underneath-it-all Harry up all night in bed, spooning deliciously tight and feeling rather satisfied with how the night ended up. He really owed that girl one for her horrible blowjob. Whatever her name was.
"You know, I almost got sorted into Gryffindor?"
"You've told me a million times, Harry."
"Well, what if I was? Do ya think we'd still, you know?"
"You know as well as I do that all Gryffindor are pricks and arrogant assholes. They'd probably convert you before long."
"...Do you believe in true love? Destiny?"
"Tch. We only get what we work for."
"You are horribly depressing, you know that, right?"
"Shut up Living-Boy."
"Who are you to talk about straightness?"
"Shut up Draco, you're not any straighter than you!"
"Hah! I've fucked more girls this year than you have, ever!"
"That doesn't make you straight - that just makes you a whore!"
"Well if I'm so much of a fucking whore, why aren't you paying me for all those favors then, hmm?"
"Ow! Merlin's beard, Harry, can't you just loose an argument? You don't have to be so violent..."
"Oh, come on, I didn't hurt you, did I? It was just a little punch."
"Fine, fine. Do you want me to kiss it better?"