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conversant, who said:
I'm pretty certain that Draco's the one who will have to do something to command Harry's attention. (Unless Harry's hormones up and betray him into suddenly noticing Malfoy's jawline or some other newly attractive part, but that doesn't make for great fic.)
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Harry couldn't help it.
He couldn't stop staring at it.
It was just so... perfect. So... angular.
"Harry, what'dyou keep staring at?" Ron asked from beside him.
"Nothing," said Harry, quickly jerking his head back down to his potions notebook. Ron was satisfied with this and left him alone, but a few moments later, Harry was idly tracing his quill in the margins of his paper, trying to recapture the beauty of its strange, elusive curve--yes, that was almost it, but not quite... He let his eyes slide over, slowly, slowly, across his desk, across the aisle and over to the desk at the opposite side of the room, where--
Oh, god, there it was again. It was so rugged, so firm, so sleek. And it was flexing, in his direction. Harry's mouth went dry, and he swallowed just as the owner of that majestic specimen pinioned him with frosty eyes.
"Stop. Staring. At. Me." Mouthed Malfoy wordlessly from his desk.
"I'm not staring at you," hissed Harry. Well, it was true. Malfoy himself and Malfoy's jawline were two completely different subjects altogether. Malfoy was a scumbag, Slytherin lowlife, death eater extraordinaire, all-around bad news bear. Malfoy's jawline, on the other hand, was a passport to instant heaven. Harry had been having increasingly gratifying fantasies at night in which his tongue explored the long hard slope of it over and over again, sometimes traveling all the way up to the earlobe. In his fantasies, to spare Harry any unnecessary embarrassment, Malfoy never looked like himself. Sometimes he looked like Viktor Krum, sometimes Cho Chang, once there was a decidedly disturbing moment when Harry had seen how he might have harbored softer feelings for Umbridge if only she had a jaw like Malfoy's; but there was never any mistaking that strong, sharp ridge for any other.
Harry felt his cock twitch beneath his robes, and snaked his hand underneath the potions table. At once a vision of his member pulsing against the loose flesh just below the point of Malfoy's cheek came to him, and he dug his fingernails into his thighs to suppress the moan that nearly overtook him.
It was going to be a long, hard lecture.