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Dark Knight	By : xDAISUKIx Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53701 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Starting from after this post, I'm going to be re-uploading some of the previous chapters to give them more sense and and...yeah. I will still make an effort to post a chapter by the extended weekend.

Requested and Main Story Idea by the lovely and patient: SuirenAngel

Written by not-so-slightly-insane: NeuroticNeko

This contains no Dumbledore bashing, no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

WARNINGS: Unbetaed and this chap contains a lot of...haah

Last time:

"Why is everything working suddenly?" He asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the sunlight that fell against his eyelids.

Silence greeted his question and Malfoy opened the cap of the bruise balm.

Harry sighed and tried to sleep.

…but it was a little hard when Malfoy's fingers were burning his skin with every little touch.

Hey, that bruise balm sure was tingly.

The sunlight filtered through the tall paned windows within the infirmary and the soft smell of mint surrounded the pair on Harry's bed. It was a nice smell, and was probably released by the small pot plants that lined some of the windows.

Harry eyes were closed at that moment and he relaxed into the bed, breathing in the fresh smell.

What Malfoy was doing was quite nice, his fingers were moving rhythmically and the salve was already beginning to work- Harry could feel the soreness leave his chest and he was able to take larger, more fulfilling breaths.

"Thanks"

Malfoy ducked his head and rubbed more viciously into Harry's wounds.

Now that was an interesting reaction, Harry thought.

Bastard

But still, Harry enjoyed Malfoy's momentary kindness and let the boy rub his hands all over Harry's body…

No

BAD IMAGINATION

Ew…UGH

Oh wait… that was actually quite hot…

Ah

Fuck

Harry squirmed into his sheets.

Uhh, this definitely was not supposed to happen.

Malfoy stopped his ministrations and looked at Harry curiously, his blonde hair poking into his grey eyes.

A curious look was quite cute on him, he concluded as Malfoy continued to look puzzled.

Harry blushed, uncomfortable, and Malfoy's cheeks heated up, as if he had only just realized that he was running his hands over Harry's skin.

But then, Harry concluded, he wasn't supposed to be thinking this way.

After a few minutes of staring firmly at the cactus lookalike on the sill, Malfoy abruptly threw Harry's shirt at him and placed the jar back into the cart.

Not looking at him, Malfoy suddenly walked over to the spare cot grabbed the smaller pair of gowns. The blonde frowned at the blood stains Harry had left on them when he had tried them on before, and wrinkled his nose.

Without warning, and in one fell swoop, Malfoy spelled every single one of his buttons to clatter onto the ground. The robes came off easily, with just a shrug of the shoulders, they were off.

Harry knew that he shouldn't be looking, but the prospect of seeing Malfoy's shirt and pants coming off was just…Ahh

The soft grey vest fell to the floor before button by button, the pale green shirt underneath slipped over slim, creamy shoulders. Harry's breath caught in his chest and something akin to excitement smoldered in the pit of his stomach.

Quickly, the rest of the outfit was thrown onto the cot and before Harry could even begin to anticipate the removal of the trousers, Malfoy had already fitted himself into the long, infirmary gown. The prat.

Suddenly, and with a sinking feeling, Harry realized where he had just been looking, when Malfoy turned around. The soft breeze from one of the windows caught the blondes hair and it spilled onto his face.

Harry took the momentary lapse of Malfoy's sight and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

Oh yes.

The architecture of this room was really quite magnificent.

Harry betrayed himself with a twitch of his eye.

Silence pervaded the room before Malfoy stepped primly over to his bed, pulling his blanket over him.

Was Harry safe?

Harry turned his whole head to the side and watched speculatively as the Slytherins face softened with rest.

When Harry felt the medicine begin to really prickle his skin, he waited for the worst of the stinging to fade into a soft buzz. When it did, he removed himself softly from his position in the bed and picked up the jar of bruise cream Malfoy had left there. Harry dipped his fingers into the balm and it clung to his fingers.

He let out a sigh

Maybe part of him had been hoping that the only reason Malfoy had been able to treat him because this was all some kind of evil, Slytherin plot. Or maybe the ferret had even cursed the medical items and put on a show of not being able to use them.

Harry softly felt the flesh on his stomach. It was much better, and the bruise cream had definitely taken the sting away.

His fingers trailed upwards and he poked his ribs.

Much, much better.

One thing still fuddled him, though.

If Dumbledore's letter was true and this wasn't some kind of a bad joke, then, wouldn't he and Malfoy's relationship have 'progressed'?

Silently, he approached the bed where Malfoy's pale face rested against the soft white of the infirmary pillow.

Harry felt a strange sort of emotion bubbling within him at the sight of a helpless and sleeping snake, and with some trepidation he brushed the hair away from Malfoy's eyes.

Grey eyes snapped open and glared at him intensely.

Visibly recoiling away, Harry snapped, caught unawares, "Oh, shut it, ferret. I'm sure you would rather me apply this to your wounds than have to have another verbal spar with me"

The blonde snorted elegantly and raised a brow. "I can treat myself, Potter. And I certainly don't need you to have to do it for me"

Harry felt a blush heat his face and he stared resolutely at the blonde.

Why had Harry felt the need to apply it himself? Malfoy was perfectly capable…

Soundlessly, he handed it over while Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry sighed and sat back down on his bed. An annoyed grunt emanated from Malfoy's side and Harry couldn't help the small flare of pleasure that showed up briefly on his expression.

"Damnit, Potter. It doesn't work. Get over here, you arse"

Despite the crude language, Harry plopped himself down and plucked the lid off. He smeared the balm over his fingers and moved to apply it. His eyes brushed with Malfoy's and there was a moment of choked silence when grey eyes were locked with his. Harry felt himself heat up- was he wrong for wanting to help the blonde back?

Then, the grip was loosened and Malfoy moved one of his arms up so that the wrist covered both of his eyes. Harry stared, dry-mouthed, at the lips that were parted ever so slightly, and at the straight nose, and at the smooth forehead, and at the brilliant strands of hair- the lips moved.

"Get on with it"

Harry nudged closer and placed his fingers onto Malfoy's bruised neck. The skin was soft and warm. Slowly, he brushed his fingers over the hand shaped marks on the boy's neck. A sick feeling welled up from within as the Slytherin hissed in pain when Harry's fingers pressed too hard.

Seeing Malfoy like this…because of a wound he had caused…it was an unpleasant feeling. And it made him want to thump his head against a door.

As he rubbed some more bruise balm, he spoke, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Tearing up, Malfoy?"

Malfoy shifted his arm a bit, so that Harry could see his obviously dry eyes, The eyes rose to the ceiling and Malfoy smirked, "I'm not crying, Mister Potter. You just stink so bad that my eyes are watering"

Harry hid his frown and rubbed perhaps a little more vigorously as he thought of a comeback. It was true. After the fight, all he had done was change clothes. He resisted the urge to lift his arm and take a sniff. Suddenly, he smiled wryly and lifted his eyebrows to adopt a surprised expression.

"Ooohh, is that a left over trait from your stunt as a ferret?"

Malfoy's neck went a bit red then, or perhaps, Harry had rubbed too hard.

The blonde boy removed his arm from his face and let it drape over his pillow. He stared at the Boy-Who-Lived, as if to ascertain whether Harry was trying to be friendly (by insulting him) or whether he was truly having a go at him.

Apparently, Malfoy could see no fault in his expression, because those lips were opening and curling to the sides.

"At least I don't have a weasel as a friend-"

Harry lifted his brow and stopped rubbing.

"- I heard they eat slugs"

Harry almost choked. "Prat", he murmured.

"Hrm? What was that, Potter? …I don't see you denying it"

Harry almost squawked indignantly. Thinking quickly, he didn't notice when Malfoy lifted himself onto his elbows. Harry racked his brains and when the proverbial light bulb switched on; Harry leaned forward to retort- only to yelp when soft breath blew into his nose. Their noses touched, skin brushing against skin and Harry almost jerked away… but a soft scent filled his nose and Harry stilled. Harry opened his lips and mumbled, a barely-there sound.

"A weasel is better than stupid and stupider…"

Under the sunlit space, Harry was aware that each breath he took and each word he spoke, his breath was mingling with Malfoy's… Suddenly, the air was pressing down upon his throat, his larynx.

Malfoy's face was close, very close and all Harry was breathing in was that intoxicating scent. It insinuated itself into Harry's nostrils and into his brain; Harry felt very, very muddled. Malfoy wasn't moving...why wasn't he moving?...He'd better move soon, Harry's mind decided, because I can't…

Or could he?

Their gazes locked and they were both sucked into each other's gaze. Afraid to bat an eyelash, Harry was drowning in pools of stormy grey.

"Potter?"

The word was whispered, neither looking away from the other. Harry was riveted upon those lips, those eyes. They moved again and Harry watched each movement of those pouty lips.

Harry felt his throat rumble and a small sound cross between whining and purring escaped his mouth. Harry lifted his palms and gently pushed Malfoy down by the shoulders.

"…Potter?"

The Savior's eyes were wide and glazed as the bored into him from above. Draco's palms were sweaty. What did Potter want…? Draco broke the silent staring contest and let his eyelids droop over his eyes. Potter's palms were hot against his shoulders and more and more of his body was pressing upon his, filling him with heat.

Draco looked up to find the boy's face millimeters above his and felt an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. But…he wanted to make sure… make sure that this wasn't his Veela pheromones reeling the Savior in. Draco wanted…he wanted…

"Potter...? No! Potter, you prat! This isn't-" This isn't a game. You can't make me feel like this whenever you feel like it!

And suddenly, those lips that had cursed Draco's name as many times as he had his, were pressing upon Draco's. They were warm and dry, brushing across his mouth- and Draco's lips felt like they were on fire. Like all of the sensors on his lips had been enhanced a million times- until all of the nerve endings were concentrated on one single touch.

Draco wanted to writhe from this simple touch, he wanted to grab, he wanted to kiss back, he wanted to rip Potter's clothes off, he wanted to hook his fingers into the lightly muscled back, he wanted to open his mouth, wider, wider, he wanted to scream, he wanted to-

And as suddenly as the kiss had come, it had gone.

Potter was halfway across the room, disheveled and flushed.

A knock on the door was all it took to break the heavy silence and Potter jumped before he went and twisted the door knob.

Draco hid his face under his blankets and tried to subdue his profound disappointment. If only they'd had a little longer. His pulse fluttered through his lips. The blonde boy traced his lips as the sound of Pomfrey's footsteps came closer. He felt the blanket being gently pulled up.

"Oh good!" Pomfrey exclaimed, peering at his throat. She turned around and beamed at Potter's nose. "I knew you could do it!" she said, capturing both of their hands from where they lay.

Draco peered over his blankets and watched as Potter's eyebrows rose to the hairline. Potter caught him looking and flushed, his hair standing on end.

"So…" Pomfrey said coyly, her eyes flickering between the two. "how did it happen?"

Draco stifled his blush. He had kissed an unconscious Boy-Who-Lived. A few seconds ago he had been kissing the Boy-Who-Lived.

The raven haired boy looked away quickly and shrugged, sounding nonchalant. "I woke up this morning and my nose had been treated"

Madam Pomfrey frowned and turned towards Draco, "So you were the one who improved the relationship?" Pomfrey looked a bit skeptical. Draco felt himself heat up. God, this was humiliating. How was he going to explain?

Potter turned the full force of those brilliant orbs upon him. "Last night…did you do anything, Draco?"

Said boy was so focused on his inner thoughts he almost missed the whispered 'Draco'. When he processed the word, however, Draco almost bit his tongue.

Draco…

It sounded so…so different from Malfoy. It made Draco feel like he was no longer 'Malfoy' to Potter…Harry…

Why did Potter make him feel this way? Before last night, Draco wouldn't have hesitated to throttle him. Bash him. Leave him on the ground bleeding.

Death? Maybe not….

But excruciating pain? Yes, definitely yes.

Well…it had been a yes.

"Well, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco ripped his eyes from Potter's gaze. He hadn't come up with a suitable fib. Draco'd just have to tell the truth…leaving out some parts, of course.

"Potter was choking on his own spit last night. I suppose he stopped breathing and went unconscious from lack of air. Of course, if he wasn't such an idiot, maybe he wouldn't have slept on his front-"

Draco shot a look at Madam Pomfrey's face. He was in character, wasn't he?

"-He resembled a frozen fish so much, I guess I had no choice but to help him. Couldn't let the Boy-Who-Live be defeated by his own spittle, could I?"

Was that enough for her?

The old woman's eyes lit up and she scribbled something onto a pad she took out of her infirmary uniform. "You're making great progress, boys. If this continues, you may both be let out on Thursday" she chuckled then, as if something was funny to her, "I'll be back tomorrow-"

"Wait!" Draco interrupted. "Potter could have died last night! Don't you think your responsibility as a healer is to watch over your patients? Of course, that only shows your level of ability- but I almost didn't get to him on time!"

Draco didn't understand why he was being such a prat to the healer, he usually was a prat, but he was never a prat when he needn't be. He surmised that he didn't like the thought of Potter being dangerously close to death.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes glittered. "I may be only a Hogwarts nurse, but by golly I have healed more people than you ever will, Mister Malfoy, and you would do good to remember that!" she seemed to bristle for a moment, and Potter had the strangest expression on his face.

"And Mister Malfoy, did you really think Dumbledore would really leave two seriously injured boys to their own devices? If Harry had truly almost died, Dumbledore would most surely have prevented it. After all, the aim of the game is not to kill you both…it's to improve your relations…"

With that, Pomfrey walked out the spare infirmary room.

Draco felt like he had been played. Played like a fool…by Dumbledore, no less.

…Bastard

Draco had saved him last night? He had almost died?

He would have never opened his eyes this morning…

Harry felt fear stab into his gut, and then relief. Sheer relief.

Thank you, Draco.

Thank you. Thankyou. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou

He touched the small scar on his nose. It felt tingly and sensitive still. Harry felt his spirits lift. Maybe…maybe the kiss just then hadn't been some in-the-moment thing. Maybe they weren't destined to be rivals forever. Maybe the small thing that had woken in his chest the moment they had touched lips wasn't some passing fancy.

But Harry was scared. He had never liked anyone this way before. Sure, there had been Ginny. But she was… nothing. His best friend's little sister. A nice girl he may have felt a little close to than most. A girl, he might say, who was becoming increasingly annoying lately.

Harry scowled. Yeah, she has really started to pay attention after Harry had suddenly gotten his inheritance. After he had grown a foot taller. After hewas so tan that Harry wondered why no one had told him he looked like a fried duck. After he was the heir of two Noble Houses. After he had inherited bucket loads of money and dozens of mansions.

The clack of the closing door interrupted his thoughts and he realized that Madam Pomfrey must have just left.

Harry avoided Draco's eyes and paced around the room, looking for something to do. The kiss still burned his lips. He needed to do something. Quietly, he walked over to the sink and started rhythmically washing his hands. As the cold water slowly turned warm, Harry closed his eyes and thought of the moment they had shared on the bed before Madam Pomfrey had walked in.

Draco had been soft, bony, yet pliant under his hands.

Harry grabbed the soap tightly and started rubbing viciously, scrubbing his skin with vigor. He looked into the mirror and caught the flicker of grey eyes on his reflection before Draco turned around hastily.

Harry stopped scrubbing.

There had been a moment, a moment when Harry's Scáth had felt so right. All he had wanted to do was draw the blonde closer to his chest never let him go.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair hung down limply and greasily, the bruises around his nose had faded but they were still yellow and brown and he smelled. Smelled badly.

Hastily, he ripped his eyes from the mirror and raked his wet hands through his hair, attempting to tame it a little. Then, he wet his hands and wiped his face, getting rid of some of the dried blood.

"No matter what you do to it, Potter, It won't work. If I recall correctly, your tangle of weeds that you call hair- has been like that since the entrance ceremony"

Harry twisted his head around to see Draco sneering at him, from his rest on the pillow. He glanced at the boys pale blonde strands of hair that lay straight on his head and glared at his own reflection.

"Yours hasn't- how much bleach have you used on your hair, Malfoy? I believe it was several shades darker during the entrance ceremony. You wouldn't want to bleach your brain more than it already has been"

Draco scoffed.

Harry stared at the tub Madam Pomfrey had dumped on them as soon as they had spooned the last bits of gruel into their mouths.

It was a shiny, porcelain white, claw foot tub. It had been put there unceremoniously by an unapologetic Madam Pomfrey who then magicked away the dishes and gave them a jar of colored soaps. She gave them a slightly bemused look before closing the door with a bang.

Shaking his head, Harry picked up the wand and swished it experimentally. Was the water redirecting spell even work with this thing? Harry could see no other way of filling the tub with hot water…unless he wanted to attempt a difficult summoning/heating charm at the same time and with the kiddy-safe wand nonetheless.

Just as Harry was contemplating what spell to perform, he was suddenly pushed to the ground. The world toppled around him and the only thing he could see was…blonde. And all that he could taste was hair.

"Wha- Malfoy?"

Suddenly, his head was hitting the ground and Draco was on top of him, scrabbling at Harry's fingers. Harry's breath whooshed out of him and he spat out the strands of hair in his mouth. Draco's hips writhed against his as the blonde wriggled around like a fish. They kept at this for a while, Harry still too dizzy to register that Draco wanted the wand and Draco still trying to get to his nice hot bath. His grip on the wand loosened and it was out of his grasp a moment later. Finally, Draco stopped struggling and sat up with the wand in hand.

By that time, Harry was half delirious. Having a lithe teen body writhing on your lap wasn't exactly the most relaxing thing. Draco's smooth legs had been exposed as the infirmary gown had hitched up during the battle for the wand. His face had been centimeters above his and the exertion had given him a lovely pink hue…

Harry groaned and shifted a bit, Harry Jr. perked up and salivated at the sight of a rumpled Malfoy with nice legs. Said Malfoy met Harry's gaze and blushed, as if only just realizing the position they were in. Harry bit his lip, oooohhhh just a little more friction- and Draco had leapt off his lap and flung his gown off.

Harry twisted his head to see the view. Ah, he was really turning into a regular pervert. But a little peeking wouldn't hurt, would it? Especially since he hadn't been able to see anything earlier. Harry rolled around on the ground, almost knocking into a shelf, just to get the right angle.

Very, very nice legs

Nice, firm butt

Pale, smooth back

Long, elegant neck…

The Savior felt Harry Jr. start to shake from excitement and he stifled a moan. He wondered if this was wrong; he was a man, spying on a naked man, having lustful thoughts about said man- wanting to grab those shoulders, twist them around, and then press his lips sweetly against the mouth he had already tasted twice before.

Shaking his head, Harry stared at the scarred wood of the shelf he was lying next to.

But what if…

What if this wasn't plain lust? Was there possibly a reason why Harry was so undeniably attracted to Draco?

The current of desire that had been the undercurrent of everything he did around the blonde Slytherin- Harry noticed it, now.

It was the reason why he had kissed Draco that day at the gathering, the reason he had been so infuriated when he had seen the blonde pretty boy contaminating his lips with someone else's saliva, when Draco had been erotically sucking the skin on Goyle's neck. Why he had been so angry that he had felt the urge, felt the need to pull Draco away and pummel sense into him?

To berate him for cheating on Harry, for desiring somebody else.

And that was it. Technically, Draco did not belong to Harry, not at all. But how could he explain all those things? How could he explain the sudden attraction, the possessiveness, the unexplained anger, the gentle emotion that caused small flutters in his stomach?

Harry turned away from the shelf and looked carefully at the pinkish figure that slipped itself into the bathwater with a satisfied sigh. What was Draco to him?

The blonde head ducked beneath the water and surfaced, water sluicing off him in cascades. When he turned, slate grey eyes met with green.

Harry felt a jolt of electricity shock his senses. He…had just been caught ogling, hadn't he?

Draco hadn't known, but he had guessed. Even as he had dipped his head under water, he had felt a hungry gaze burning the skin on his back, making him itch, making him shiver. The hot water filled his ears and he imagined that gaze locked onto him, raking his body. Suddenly, he felt heavy, hot, pulsing pressure press into his body. It fell upon everything and Draco felt something split apart from inside of him. It forced his Veela down down down and his chest ached and fluttered and thrummed and hurt.

Gasping for breath, Draco felt the water run off him before he twisted his neck and found Potter's eyes staring piercingly into his.

OMFG THAT WAS HARD TO END. Sorry for such a long wait!

REALLY REALLY SORRY .

I could say things like I had exams since two weeks ago and that I had a lot of assessments but no one wants to hear excuses. Thankfully, the coming weekend is extended and I wont have anymore exams for another three weeks (i think) ahahah

-Neko

NEXT CHAPTER: THE REAL FUN BEGINS!?
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Dark Knight