LYCOS RETRIEVER 
Draco Malfoy: Boys
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Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde, too; tall and slim, she would have been nice looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.
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Tom Felton has played Draco Malfoy in all of the Harry Potter movies as of 2007. Malfoy grew into one of the series' most popular characters due to Felton's performances, and Felton quickly became synonymous with the character to many female fans, much to Rowling's dismay. "I'm trying to clearly distinguish between Tom Felton, who is a good looking young boy, and Draco, who, whatever he looks like, is not a nice man. It’s a romantic, but unhealthy, and unfortunately all too common delusion of girls...it actually worried me a little bit, to see young girls swearing undying devotion to this really imperfect character...I mean, I understand the psychology of it, but it is pretty unhealthy."[13]
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Draco clawed at the door, rattling the doorknob. The fragile little boy, perfect as a china doll, scrabbled at the crack underneath to door like a trapped animal and whimpered pitifully, which should have told Ludmilla the nanny that something was genuinely wrong. Draco usually vented his fury and screamed bloody murder. But she walked away down the hall thinking of dinner, and was simply grateful to have escaped with only one kick to the stomach this time. She paid no attention to the unusual quiet.
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Harry's words faltered as Draco answered him by unexpectedly moving onto his lap. Draco's legs straddled Harry's waist as Draco pushed the other boy back down onto the bed. Harry was too stunned to react, and he blinked as Draco leaned forward, pressing the entire length of his body against his, and Harry was made more aware of the fact that he had refused to lend Draco any underwear. He squirmed uneasily, but there was only a limited level of discomfort that could possibly be achieved when Draco's body was so perfectly aligned against his, the flat of Draco's torso resting on top of his chest, and Draco's face merely inches away from his own. Harry held his breath, forgetting to exhale, and gazed up at Draco with wide eyes.
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"I've wanted to do this since fifth year," Draco gasped, pulling away to lean his forehead against Harry's shoulder. Harry braced his arms against the wall on either side of Draco's head and groaned, rutting himself against the other boy mindlessly.
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Harry looked at Draco as the other boy mounted the Firebolt, all the while refusing to meet his gaze. He felt a horrible feeling sinking in his gut, like knives swimming in his stomach. He didn't need to know when he'd get his clothes returned, and he didn't even need his Firebolt back by tonight — it wasn't as if he could fly it, anyway. What he did want was for Draco to look up at him, for Draco to say something. Anything at all. But Draco said nothing.
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