Paradoxa | By : HogwartsHeadache Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6717 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any characters or any Harry Potter affliates. I make no money from this fanfiction and everything belongs to J.K Rowling |
They had been enemies since the first time they had set eyes on each other. Inevitable really, everything about them screamed opposite. From Malfoy's blonde, greasy hair to Harry's green, almond-shaped eyes, they were different. Harry had always thought he made his feelings towards Malfoy perfectly clear. For as long as he treated Harry as not worthy to wipe mud from his boots, Malfoy would be nothing. A mere smidgeon on the horizon of Harry's view, moving further and further away with every insult and snide little comment.
Draco was seated on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, gazing at the underwater view of the Great Lake as he tried to distinguish the moving, dirty green shapes from the permanent video that had been running through his head since he had last encountered Harry Potter.
Harry had been sitting there, in the shade of the big beech tree by the Lake, laughing with Weasley and Granger over something Draco could not care less about. All he could see was Harry's hair as it fluttered delicately over his glasses every time he let out a breath and feel the warmth emanating from him as he knew that Harry was truly happy and calm. Draco was just miserable; he couldn't be a part of Harry's bliss.
"Crabbe, Goyle," Draco ordered, snapping out of his reverie, "let's take that Potter down a notch, shall we?"
Draco knew that nobody else could know about how he felt for Harry; about how much he needed to be in his life, even if that meant potentially ruining it. "Like it wasn't already difficult enough for the 'Chosen One', Draco thought resignedly. If he was really going to go up to them now, he'd better get into the spirit.
"Oi Potter, how much did you pay those second years to ask for an autograph? And I can't believe we didn't get one, bit sad really, isn't it boys?" Draco had to keep the mocking in his voice to a perfectly balanced level. As much as he didn't want to hurt Harry, he had to make it believable. But not even a blow from his father's cane could brace him for the raw, fiery look of hatred burning from Harry as the words left his lips.
The sting from Harry's look burned through Draco, his soul, his mind, his everything and his anguish was made clear on his face; but only for a second before he hastily rearranged it into his cruel, mocking mask.
"Shut up Malfoy," Harry said fiercely, shaking with anger.
Draco moved into Harry's body, tingling with anticipation as he knew that only a few centimetres of cloth were separating him from everything he wanted to touch and kiss. Draco was so close to Harry's face that he could have counted the different shades of green in his eyes; and then he delivered his final line, whispering it to Harry, trying to cover up his longing with menace.
"You'd better hope Dumbledore comes and saves your scrawny arse before your little fans find out just how pathetic you are. I will get you for where you put my father, Potter."
Draco leaned in just that little bit further, feeling Harry's soft hot breath on his pale skin, shifted his weight all the way back and glared at the three Gryffindors who were staring stonily back at him, coming back to Harry and walked away. It was stupid to put himself so close to what he wanted so desperately and having no hope in hell of actually getting it.
This was what Draco was thinking, wondering if all he felt whenever he came close to Harry was ever going to happen. Yes he fantasised, but actually getting anywhere near Harry in a non-aggressive confrontation was about as likely to happen as his now imprisoned father becoming editor of The Quibbler. He was going to get Potter, get him for setting him free. Harry Potter was the one boy Draco completely cared about. Harry Potter was the only boy who had ever contested his dictator of a father and for that, Draco wanted him. A yearning desire which would follow him around until Harry was his. Little did he know, Harry Potter was reliving the same memory, only in the Gryffindor tower, across the Castle from Malfoy's wistful imaginings.
*
"You alright mate?" Ron asked Harry, "You've been looking tense ever since break."
Harry, who had been previously staring into the fire, turned around to give Ron a grim smile. He had a feeling Ron wouldn't quite understand this reflection.
"Yeah, I'm fine, apart from the whole 'I've got a big hairy Death Eater's son after my blood' thing" Harry replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Oh, Malfoy?" Hermione said testily, not bothering to look from her copy of Spellman's Syllabary, "just ignore him Harry, you know perfectly well he's not worth it."
"Mmmmm," said Harry vaguely, not bothering to correct Hermione with what he actually thought about their little encounter with Malfoy. As much as he hated to admit it, she would probably be the most understanding about it, but he had to figure it out himself first.
"When he leaned into me, I couldn't breathe, all that was going through my mind was how much I needed his flesh at my fingertips," Harry thought to himself.
It was the rawest, steamiest thought he had had since the first time Malfoy had talked to him. Even Cho and Ginny had never, ever made him aware of this unhampered lust. He wanted Malfoy's body, just his body. The angry, raging monster he felt bubbling inside of him every time he saw Malfoy just kept blazing until his fury was nowhere near diminished but transformed into pure animal thirst, which had to be released.
"Oh, well that's just great," Harry said to himself as he felt the throbbing bulge between his legs grow, his thoughts becoming evermore unsavoury as he pictured Malfoy at the mercy of his magic stick, screaming his name in ecstasy.
*
For the rest of that week, both Harry and Draco were firmly on each others' minds. Harry began toying with him, imagining scenarios during Potions lessons, his brain on the subtle bruises his lips could be making on Malfoy's cold pale skin as Malfoy writhed beneath him rather than his Strengthening Solution. Draco only thought purely of Harry as that elusive individual who kept slipping away from him. Thinking of how the line down from his shoulder to his hipbone moved so supplely whenever he was on a broomstick and how much he needed to feel that slender, lean body close to his, so they could be together...
Luckily for the boys, both eventually hit a wall, every whim of desire taking over. They had to exercise it somehow and both did exactly what made sense at the time.
Draco - spending another lonely night which would of course be followed with a cold shower in the morning (having been ravished by Harry in his dreams) - decided that he needed to excite himself somehow. And then remembered something the old Slytherin Quidditch Captain Marcus Flint had told him:
"If you ever need some, you know, alone time just to...you know....There's this weird room on the seventh floor, opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to ballet dance? Anyway, I was desperate for a....you know.... and I saw this door, so I went in, because I thought it was a toilet, but it wasn't."
"What was it" asked Draco in anticipation.
"It was the perfect room, filled with all of the best stuff, even some weird Muggle stuff I hadn't ever seen before! They may be scum but they do know how to have a good time... Of course you had all your old favourites, 'Honeydukes Best Vibrating Chocolate Wands' and those handcuffs you find in Azkaban! Not to mention 'Lady Langworthy's Most Languishing Lube'! It really was the best place..."
Flint's words resonated in Draco's memory, he really missed Flint. He was the only person who understood that Draco, unlike the other boys of Hogwarts, couldn't go one whole term without some form of satisfaction (usually of course, caused by Harry in his fantasies). Something he rarely got at home from the Daily Prophet's advertised gigolos his father kept sending to shut him up. Without realising, Draco found himself following Flint's advice, his feet carrying him up the many staircases of Hogwarts to the room he now knew as the Room of Requirement , every step he took bringing him closer to the sugar which he so desperately craved.
*
Harry Potter meanwhile was lying in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, perusing the Maurauder's Map which he had become so used to doing over the week. As much as Harry hated to admit it, he discovered himself rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy. As his drowsy eyes explored the map, looking for Malfoy's dot, all he could think about was where Malfoy was and how fast he could de-robe him. When he finally found Malfoy's dot, it was moving fairly quickly along a staircase leading to the seventh floor, eventually his dot just disappeared from the map. Harry sat up bolt straight, no longer tired.
"That's strange,' he thought to himself, 'where did Malfoy's dot go?" He pondered this for a moment. "He couldn't have left the grounds; even sixth years aren't allowed out at this time of night." He considered every possible option as to where Malfoy could be, but his mind quickly strayed to what Harry himself could be doing to him....Harry shook himself awake before he was into too deep a sleep and his racy dreams became apparent on his bed sheets. When wide awake, Harry looked around at the other boys in his dormitory; Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were all snoring, fast asleep.
"It's a bit wrong isn't it?" The little voice in Harry's head said. 'You know they wouldn't in front of you. Well they would, but you would be punishing them to..."
Harry groaned into his pillow with frustration. His new found erection needed pumping but he couldn't do it in front of his fellow Gryffindors, Harry decided to go to his usual haunt for whenever he needed some time to mull things over with himself and some of Lady Langworthy's. And he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, the Map and his wand, tried to ease his sensitive appendage, and tip-toed out of Gryffindor Tower to the Room of Requirement.
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