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Ethereal Desire	By : Etherea Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Author: Etherea

Author: Etherea.

Rating: T � PG-13 (Slight Sexual connotations and Foul
Language; nothing unbearable� I hope.) The rating will �most certainly- go up
in later chapters.

Disclaimer: I certainly don�t own anything related
to the Harry Potter Universe. I humbly bow before the goddess who created it
and marvel at her genius, hoping to not awake her wrath at my pitiable attempts
to do her creation justice with my amateur stories. I do own the plot, though;
but I hope it�s pretty superfluous of me to say that I�m not making a Knut out of it. It�s just a faithful fan�s work anyway,
born out of the mere respect and awe for the wonderful characters she has
fashioned. So please, don�t sue.

Summary: AU. Post-Hogwarts. Draco is
experiencing a rare magical phenomenon: he�s being �visited� by his Other Part,
but Animus Salutor means much more than that. His life in total shreds, how
will he react to the unthinkable consequences? A battle of wills ensues: two
sworn enemies being forced to discover and acknowledge a truth too
unbelievable, too absurd� and yet, too right.
H/G. Eventual H/D Slash.

Author Note: The ever-present Author Note and
Warning of every H/D fanfic ever written� Yes, you
got it: this is �or rather, will be- Slash. Don�t like it, don�t read; as
simple as that. If you feel upset, uncomfortable, disturbed, shell-shocked,
appalled, confused, outraged, or simply disgusted by this type of reading, then
you have another reason to hit the �Back� button right now. If you still decide
to carry on with your reading even knowing that this piece is not your cup of
tea (or coffee, or whatever you prefer) then be absolutely certain that
destructive or/and offensive flames won�t be tolerated; you�ve been warned
after all.

A/N2: So, this is my first attempt at a Slash Fic. The Harry and Draco pairing is very close to my heart
�I just think they are simply adorable together- and although there are some fics out there that truly are masterpieces of the genre, I
can only hope this one will come close to your expectations. So whatever your
opinions, please let me know. I certainly would love to hear what you guys have
to say!

A/N3: This story was posted nearly a year ago, but
due to some inconveniences (namely FFnet deleting
it), frustration got the best of me and I gave up on it. I hadn't thought about
reposting until one of the readers sent me an email asking me about the story
nearly two months ago. I understood then that there were people that actually
liked this story and wanted me to continue, so I decided to give it a try. So
here it is. I'll post one chapter a week to get you guys reacquainted with ED.
Thanks to Amyfowl for her support, and to my sweet
Beta Enchant for her persuasion.

Now,
once again, on with it!

��

Ethereal
Desire

Prologue

His
voice was merely a whisper, muffled in the darkness of his room. His moans
escaped from his mouth of their own accord, making him shiver at the lust
clearly embedded in the sinful sounds. He was getting there. He was close, oh
so close�

He
felt those hands touching him and caressing his skin with blatant audacity; not
hesitating once in their shameless explorations. They knew their way around his
body so well. Those lips devoured his mouth with the hunger of a starving
beast, licking and teasing, asking more and more from him; wanting, demanding,
needing�

His
eyes were tightly closed. His hands clutched the silky sheets beneath his naked
body in an unconscious attempt to feel in control of something, to get a hold
of whatever little composure he had left in his rebellious being. He quivered
and wriggled under the exquisite caresses, feeling the bolts of pleasure
running through him like electricity. His breath came in ragged gasps.

Gods,
he was close. He
was so close�

He
could not do anything but surrender; surrender to the will of those hands on
his skin, of those lips that were all over him. He could hear the moans
inside his head, the whispers urging him to let go, to give into the pleasure
of flesh and moistness and heat. His body arched into the brazen sensations. He
gritted his teeth and his hold on the sheets became fiercer as he reached the
pinnacle of his endurance.

His
pulse rate rose to a feverish allegro, and he threw his head back as he felt
the wave of ecstasy swell up inside of him like an untamed river, escalating
from his toes and fingers, invading every muscle and sinew and bone in its
obstinate way to his desperate core, washing away every thought, all sense of
control; sending him over the edge as it drew from him the most fantastic
noises, and finally blasting him into sweet oblivion, leaving behind an empty
shell, shattered by excruciating pleasure and release.

He
was gone, and he never wanted to return.

It
took a long time before his soul came back to his body, and when his heartbeat
and breathing became regular at last, he opened his eyes to the feared reality.

He
was alone, very alone, in his darkened room. He wondered how many times he
would wish otherwise. He knew better. He sat up in his bed and inspected his
naked body, sweaty and stained as the result of such an enjoyable experience.
He couldn�t stop the wave of sorrow that washed over him, as it always did.
Once more, he had hoped this time would be different; but no. He rummaged in
his bedside table for his wand, and was about to mutter a cleaning spell when
he decided differently. The sweat glistening on his skin and the well-known
spots on his stomach and thighs, as well as the remaining tingling sensations
that still made their way across his body, were the only tangible proof that it
had ever happened, and for his sanity�s sake he�d leave them there.

Suddenly
he was very tired. He put away his wand and leaned back on the bed, fumbling
for the covers and getting under them, willing his mind and heart to stop their
pathetic attempts at self-pity. They wouldn�t do him any good anyway, not now.
He closed his eyes of fused silver for the second time that night, letting out
a sigh of sheer resignation. Tomorrow would be a very tough day, and he needed
all his wits and defense mechanisms working properly.
His life was truly at stake, and he�d be damned if he was going to let these
bothersome �visits� get in the way of his much needed rest... much less his
peace of mind.

He
entrusted himself to Morpheus, and as he felt the
soft arms of sleep lulling him away, he couldn�t prevent �he really needed to
believe that- the sad smile that crept its way to his lips. It seemed that for
the very first time in his life, a Deity had heard his prayers and took him out
of that sweet misery his waking reality had become...

Draco
Malfoy finally fell into restless slumber.

��

The
black-haired man shivered and writhed in his sleep, letting out broken moans
and cries, startling his companion, who lay naked beside him in bed. The
redhead leaned over him, holding his shoulder and shaking him softly, trying to
wake him from the seemingly hideous nightmare he was having.

�Harry�
Harry, wake up!� she said worriedly. It wasn�t the first time she had been
awakened by her fianc�s cries in the middle of the night. She knew he had
always had trouble sleeping -the Dark Lord�s deeds were
something she didn�t think anyone would want to close their eyes to- but
it scared her that, even now when Voldemort had been finally defeated, Harry
kept on having these dreams; that he kept on waking up bathed in sweat and
quivering profoundly, completely vulnerable and confused. She remembered too
well the implications of those awakenings during the Second War, and she really
didn�t want to think of the implications they could have now, when the
Wizarding World was supposedly out of danger.

She
kept shaking him lightly �for she didn�t want to get a violent reaction from
him when he finally awoke-, calling his name softly, and trying to break the
thread that kept him tied to the land of dreams. Finally, he opened his eyes
and sat up, startled, gasping for air and looking around him in nervous
confusion.

�What��
He then seemed to remember where he was, and who he was with. He turned towards
the presence beside him and saw the worry in Ginny�s eyes; her hand stroking
softly up and down his back in reassurance.

�Bad
dream?� she asked, trying to sound calm and collected. He looked her in the
eyes, like trying to figure out in their depths what it was he was so
distressed about; trying to remember, but failing miserably.

�I�
I don�t know�� He looked around the room. �It is so� foggy. It�s just a blur��
He got up from the bed quickly, thankful for the boxer shorts he had on, and
went to the bathroom. Ginny knew better
than to go after him. He needed to get a hold of himself� alone. She didn�t
know if he really didn�t remember his dreams, or if he just didn�t want to tell
her about them, but either way she knew he wanted his privacy. She believed
that that was one of the reasons why she and Harry got along so well. They
respected each other�s boundaries, and only crossed them when allowed. She got
up to pick up her clothes -which were scattered around the floor- and dressed.
It was really late anyhow, and she didn�t want another lecture from her mom
about �a woman�s dignity�. She was finishing buttoning up her shirt when her
lover came out of the bathroom.

�Are
you leaving so soon?� His beautiful green eyes looked incredibly exposed
without his glasses. She walked to where he was, placed her arms around his
neck, and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss.

�It�s
really late, you know?� she said when she pulled back, and smiled. He looked at
his feet, a little disturbed, then back at her.

�I�m
sorry� about� about that,� he said earnestly. �I didn�t want to� I didn�t mean
to scare you.� She put a reassuring hand on his cheek.

�I
know, love. I worry about you; that�s all. I just want those nightmares to
stop,� she said in a soft voice portraying all her caring and concern for him.
He didn�t want to cross her after that. He simply nodded his head and put his
arms around her waist, bringing her close to him.

�Thanks
for taking care of me.� This time he smiled, and she felt something inside of
her melt.

�Anytime,
love. And I better go. Circe only knows what mom is going to say to me when I
get home.� She gave him a loud kiss on the lips, and he released her. He walked
her to the apartment�s door, grabbing her purse from the coffee table on his
way. They stopped at the doorway and kissed once more.

�I
love you,� she said afterwards, cheerfully. He didn�t know why he shuddered at
those words, but he put the sentiment aside.

�I
love you, too. I�ll see you tomorrow.� She gave a snort at his reply, which
gained a sort of amused look from him. She just scowled at his reaction.

�As if! You
will be busy as a bee tomorrow, what with Malfoy�s hearing and everything. I
know better than to get my hopes up!�

Ah� that.
He really had forgotten about it� which made him rethink his amusement.

�Maybe
you�re right. I had forgotten all about that prick�s hearing. What with the
interrogations of the last Death Eaters and the stupid paperwork....�

�Yeah,
yeah� I know how it goes.� She smiled again. �Anyway, I certainly won�t mind
not being able to see you tomorrow if it�s because you�ll be too busy sending
Malfoy to Azkaban.� Harry frowned.

�I
don�t know about that, Ginny. We couldn�t get any evidence of Malfoy�s
involvement with the Dark Cause. You very well know that after his father�s
imprisonment��

�Malfoy
went low-profile,� she cut him off; �that there is no proof whatsoever that he
took the Dark Mark and all that rubbish.� She looked at him sternly. �Do you
really believe that Malfoy readjusted his allegiances only because his daddy
got caught?� She snorted once more. �Come on, Harry. Don�t be so na�ve.�

Harry
knew he was walking on very thin ice with this subject. He knew what a delicate
issue this was for his fianc�.
After all, she went through her first year at Hogwarts at the mercy of Tom
Riddle �Malfoy Senior�s doing in the first place-; he was sure she wouldn�t
find peace of mind until she saw the whole Malfoy lineage behind bars.
Sometimes it made him wonder how healthy her convictions were, but he really
couldn�t blame her. She was entitled to her anger, and the only thing he could
do was to support her.

�I�m
not na�ve, Ginny. I�m just asking you to put things in perspective.� He
suddenly realized how Hermionesque that
sounded, but thought better than to grin. �I don�t want to see you all worked
up if things don�t go the way you want.�

She
looked at him coldly, almost defiantly, but the look vanished immediately, gone
as fast as it had come. Her face softened again to its usual state and she
smiled with acquiescence, looking at the floor for the first time.

�I
know� I�m sorry. I�m just nervous about it, that�s all.� She looked up at him,
and he greeted her with one of his Golden Boy smiles, the type he knew she
couldn�t resist, and she giggled.

�You
have nothing to be sorry about, love. You know I�m here for you.� He put his
hands to her cheeks and kissed her softly. �Well, off you go then. I certainly
don�t want to get another howler from Molly. Ever,� he said gleefully,
remembering the highly disturbing red envelope he had received a few months
before his and Ginny�s engagement. She understood
completely.

�Yeah,
you�re right. Well, good night, love. Floo me tomorrow, ok?� He nodded and
opened the door for her, giving her the purse. She blew him a kiss and left the
flat, leaving Harry to stare at her retreating back, deep in thought.

��

An
hour or so had passed after Ginny had left his flat, and he still couldn�t get
to sleep.

He
was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of recent events. He and
Ginny had gone out for dinner that Sunday evening. After that, they had come to
his apartment �the only place they had to indulge in more intimate
distractions- and made love. It was satisfying, as always; sweet and caring
love-making. She knew what to do with her �he giggled- hands, and she
did it wonderfully. Ginny really was a passionate girl. No,
cross that out; young woman. She was twenty years old after all.

She
was very beautiful. She had grown from that shy little girl he had known ten
years ago into a very mature, very intelligent young witch. It certainly never
crossed his mind he would end up being her fianc�; she was his best friend�s
little sister after all, and although he knew she had had a little crush on him
back then -even more so after he saved her from Voldemort�s claws- he never
really thought he could like her that way. So he indulged in little affairs
with other girls �nothing big or serious, really- like his fleeting fling with
Cho Chang. Funny how Fate plays her cards, really. Whilst he kept busy trying
to lose his virginity before he could get killed and conspiring against
the very �man� who could accomplish such a task, Ginny remained in the shadows,
waiting. Waiting for him to notice her. And notice her
he did. In fact, by her seventh year, three quarters of the school had. He was
just plain lucky �the very constant of his life- that she still wanted
him.

So a
little more than a year after her graduation �they had been dating for nine
months then- when he had finally defeated the Dark Lord, and when he had gotten
a nice job at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror, he had proposed to her. It was
pretty obvious to say that the Weasleys were delighted. They truly loved him
and considered him part of the family, which was certainly a break from all the
people who got close to him out of sheer interest. And he really loved Ginny
very, very much. They would be getting married in three months...

But
still, there was something he couldn�t put his finger on; something missing in
their relationship. Something lacking in the way they kissed, in the way they
looked at each other, even in the way they� well, it wasn�t necessary to point
that out as well.

He
remembered the way he had shivered when she told him she loved him. He loved
her back, he was certain about it. Then why had he reacted that way? Why did he
feel threatened by her openness? Was he having cold feet about their upcoming
marriage?

No,
that was ridiculous. And it was ridiculous because he kind of knew what was
going on.

And
he certainly didn�t want to discuss those dreams, or nightmares, or whatever
-he wouldn�t know what to call them, really- he had been having; not even to
himself.

Oh,
shit! It�s going to happen anyway, isn�t it? he scowled to himself.

He
always told the truth when he told Ginny that he didn�t remember anything about
them. He didn�t know exactly what those dreams were about, but he knew how they
made him feel.

And
it was pretty distressing.

Not
only because he was certain they weren�t about Ginny.

He knew
she thought the dreams were about the Dark Lord, about the horrible things they
all had seen over the years during the Second War, which had mounted in
viciousness and ferocity until the �Grand Finale�, the day of the Last
Battle. The deaths, the rape sessions, the tortures� Merlin�s teeth! How
he wished it was that� simple, that manageable.

He
could deal with the never-ending guilt and remorse over the ones fallen during
those years. Those feelings were a part of him now. Ever since Cedric�s death,
his Godfather�s, he couldn�t help but think that there was something else he
could have done which would have saved them. The Final Battle, where so many
great witches and wizards were lost, was another test to his fortitude. How
could he be happy about finally defeating Voldemort when the cost had been so
high? All those souls weighed on his conscience, each and every one of them,
and he had accepted that weight. It was his burden, and therefore, he could
deal with it.

He just
couldn�t deal with something he didn�t understand at all.

He
fidgeted a little on his bed when a flash of the dream he had had that night
crossed his mind.

He
must have fallen asleep shortly after having sex with Ginny, which wasn�t that
unusual, really� being an Auror drained all his energies, even on Sundays. He didn�t even know
if he should call it a flash, because there were no images to recall; just
feelings. He remembered warmth, so hot it burned him inside out, but not a
hurtful burning, just� intense. He remembered a pulse, a heartbeat maybe,
filling his ears with its steady crescendo, accompanied by moans that he wasn�t
sure were his own� or maybe they were, he wouldn�t know. He remembered a
tingling sensation on his skin, the type that reminded of recent touch, but who
he had been touching -because somehow he knew he had been doing the touching-
well, that part was veiled by mist. All he knew was he had touched something
warm, and moist, and solid, and�

Gods, he really didn�t want to
think about it.

And
most �and worst- of all, he remembered pleasure; incredible, mind-blowing,
delicious pleasure; the kind that made skin crawl with desire and want. Yes,
that�s what it always was. He remembered wanting, needing, lusting...

He remembered
the feelings of it, as if he had been blindfolded in a wet dream. Because it was
a wet dream; the tumescent� certainty of it made it very awkward to wake up
next to a very worried Ginny Weasley. That�s why he had gone to the bathroom:
to splash some cold water on his face and regroup.

No,
it hadn�t been the first one he�d had.

And
he hoped �oh Gods, very much- it wasn�t the last.

Because
those dreams gave him something that �he was going to regret so much
admitting this- he couldn�t get from Ginny.

Those
dreams, foggy and blurry and tremendously incoherent as they were, made him
feel� complete.

And
it wasn�t because of the pleasure he got from them. It was because of the
pleasure he knew he gave.

Oh,
Gods! What was he
to do? He couldn�t keep up the
charade of those dreams being �Voldemort-related� to Ginny! That only
accomplished getting her scared out of her wits! And how, dear Merlin, was he to tell her what exactly those dreams were,
when he didn�t even know himself? And
how could he tell her the only thing he did know: that for almost three years
now, he�s been having these extremely erotic, highly satisfying -when not
abruptly awakened- and completely unsettling dreams, and that somehow he knew
the co-protagonist, the person with the leading role in all of them was
a�a man?

He
grabbed his head with both his hands, trying so hard to quiet his whirling
thoughts. He couldn�t think about it now. Better yet, he wouldn�t think about
it, ever! He had so much to lose over this, and he certainly wouldn�t be that
stupid.

No,
he wouldn�t. He knew better.

And
he was really tired.

So
he pulled the covers over his nearly naked body, willing his head �and his
heart- to silence, one more time. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and he needed
his head fresh for it �not only because he would be sitting as a witness and an
Auror in one of the most famous hearings in Wizarding History yet- and he�d be
damned if he was going to let these foolish dreams get in the way of his much
needed rest, not to mention his peace of mind.

He
closed his eyes for the second time that night. He just hoped sleep wouldn�t
take much longer to come. As his thoughts were being chased by slumber like a
seeker on a broomstick chases a snitch, he couldn�t prevent �he wouldn�t start
psychoanalyzing that as well- a sad smile sneaking onto his lips. It seemed
that for the very first time in his life, he wasn�t afraid of his dreams, but
of the conflicting thoughts about them he had to face when he was awake...

Harry
Potter was swept into a shallow, troubled sleep.

��

TBC�
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Ethereal Desire