Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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.

Chapter List
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- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
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- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
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- 25-Ch25
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Chapter Two
Malfoy's last class of the day was Transfigurations, and he happened to share it with Harry's house. When Draco came in late, he actually got a small round of cheers from everyone but Nott, who now had a black eye, bloodied lip, and was scowling at the desk. Draco just frowned at them all and took his seat, clearly not proud with how anything had happened that day.
Harry had wandered the rows of the class, watching as the students chatted and cast their spells. He had started switching his view, moving through the other four dimensions he existed in to see how their magic looked, hoping to find some sort of clue to use his own magic to get free. He knew magic was part of the answer. It was how he had ended up in the damn place, had been the only thing Harry could touch, and was also something he had lost a lot of his control over now without his wand.
While peering through the five different planes of existence he was currently trapped in, Harry found out how Malfoy could trip over him and Harry could be hurt by it. It was the last plane, the fifth where the world fuzzed out and all Harry could see was shifting colors and the magic in the castle walls. Even Fawkes hadn't been present on this plane. Harry found Malfoy there, bright and glowing with luminous light, looking like some otherworldly being... absolutely nude, too.
Harry breathed slowly, slipping closer to take in the soft feathers and sleek scales peppering Draco's ears and skin. Long wicked talons ended the boy's fingers as they tapped his desk lightly. Harry grinned, walking around Draco to stare at the long curve of his back and the lithe tail slinking down. Either Malfoy had been cursed, or he was part magical creature. Which magical creature, Harry had no clue, but it was certainly long, taut and fucking sexy.
Harry's appearance on this plane was more an absence of. He was still, dark, and the color around him faded as if he were stealing it away. This was also where he could see the cracks forming, gold light dazzling out of his skin as his form slowly broke apart. Harry quickly switched back to the first plane, not wanting to see himself anymore—not wanting to see his quickly approaching death.
Harry leaned over the bored looking Slytherin, gazing intently at his creamy skin. “Hey, Malfoy?” he called. Draco turned another page of his textbook, unhearing. Harry took a deep breath, continuing at the top of his lungs. “Malfoy, you crazy son of a bitch! Fucking answer me, and if we're lucking I'll be back in time to wipe the quidditch field with your ass tomorrow!”
Breathing heavily, Harry whooped in triumph as Draco shifted, a hand coming to his ear. That was, until he realized that his breath had only been tickling the boy's neck where he had been shouting furiously. Harry gave a sigh in defeat, quirking a smile when Malfoy swatted at the spot. The boy was fucking adorable.
Blowing a steady stream of air into the twitching blond's ear, Harry tried to think of his next course of action. Obviously Malfoy couldn't see him or he'd have been screaming bloody murder by now. How exactly could he communicate without sound or sight? There was no way Malfoy was going to recognize him by touch.
Harry shifted backwards, glancing back to the boy he was idly tormenting. Draco gave a soft growl and began viciously rubbing at the side of his face in an endearing fashion. Harry couldn't help snickering at the dangerous glare the Slytherin sent towards his fellow classmates.
Harry waited a few minutes for Malfoy to settle back down before picking a new target. His eyes were drawn to the delicate dip where Draco's neck connected to his shoulder and with a wicked smile, Harry blew. The reaction was instantaneous and priceless. Yelping loudly, Draco jumped to his feet, grabbing his neck and snarling as he whirled around to find the source.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall asked as Draco twitched and glared. Her tone was less stern than usual, having been there in the Great Hall when Draco defended Harry's name.
“Uh... no, Professor, just a bug, or draft, or something.” Draco said lamely. He sat obediently, but his glare remained steadily searching the students around him.
“God, you're always good for a laugh, Malfoy.” Harry beamed at the glowering boy. Even if he couldn't find a way back, Harry could spend the rest of his short life annoying the shit out of his gorgeous rival. He blew idly at the white blond strands of Draco's hair, watching as the boy became increasingly tense.
It probably wasn't the best way to start off their relationship, seeing as Draco was the only other human yet to be able to sense Harry. But Harry couldn't seem to stop himself, having missed just how interesting Draco looked when absolutely pissed off. And now, well now he could see it very close up as well. Every time Malfoy whimpered softly and scrubbed the ticklish spots he kept seeking, Harry admitted to a delicious tightening in his stomach.
When Harry happened to lean very close, and fan heat over Draco's neck, the boy's eyes glazing slightly as he squirmed in his seat, well, that was rather interesting as well. It would be nothing to flick his tongue, lick up the side of Draco's flesh—Fuck, would Malfoy even realize if he did?
Harry stepped back, running his hand through his messy hair and breathing deep. He was playing with fire, and he fucking knew it. Being able to be this close and not have anyone know a fucking thing, even Malfoy... It was dangerous. Very damn dangerous considering how long Harry had wanted to touch the prat. Harry had gotten used to not being noticed and maybe, maybe he had stopped caring about all the fucking rules of being proper and respectful.
Leaning back in again, Harry shifted until he was face to face with Draco, watching his startling white eyelashes flutter as he read. “Malfoy, what if I kissed you right now, hmm? Would you even know? You'd feel it... but would you know?” Lashes flickered, eyes raising slightly, and Harry ducked down to see Draco clearer, his breath puffing over the boy's cheek.
Crystal eyes turned right at him, following the heat of his breath. Harry held perfectly still, staring intently. He could make out the very light hair on Draco's cheek, slight variations to his skin tone, and even some fine stubble on his jaw. He was very real like this. Not some glowing lie, or fantasy. Draco was real and alive, and could feel Harry's breath.
Harry felt Draco's breath, soft and warm as it brushed over his chin when the boy sighed in annoyance. “Fucking hell...” Draco huffed softly, scratching at his neck where Harry had been blowing earlier, fingers lingering and slowly tracing down to the dip in his throat with a soft noise of flesh brushing flesh. Harry followed with his face, moving down until he was right in front of where the muscles connected to the collarbone. He breathed hot breath, listening as Draco gasped and touched the spot again, fingers caressing slowly.
Harry sunk to the ground and sat, very much feeling like he was on the verge of doing something very, very dangerous. Possibly even immoral.
This was much better than the invisibility cloak, he realized dizzily. He could get so close and never worry of getting caught. Even if Draco bumped into him, he could never know it was him. Could never get angry for staring... maybe even touching a little...
Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. It was a very dangerous tangent. He should just try and talk to the boy, not... fuck... Well, yeah, not get into his pants.
Could he get into Malfoy's pants like this?
Harry groaned again, biting his palm sharply to keep from doing anything stupid. Because he was feeling like a fucking raving lunatic right now. Draco Malfoy was at his fucking fingertips if he just had the nerve enough to take him.
A spasm of energy hit Harry, pulling him from his heated thoughts and reminding him how little time he had.
Harry stood, eyes taking in the beautiful boy as he again leaned in, this time back to the ear he had first assaulted. He trailed a soft stream, watching Draco twitch and told himself this was all he was going to do. Annoy the prat. Look, and annoy him.
By the time class was finished, Harry was doing his best not to laugh at how pissed and disoriented Malfoy was while the boy collected his school things, muttering about fleas under his breath. Harry's stomach was tight with lust and anxiety from the many fucked up thoughts he really shouldn't be even considering. He felt a bit woozy and did his best to follow the scowling Slytherin down into the dungeons.

“Bloody... fucking... unicorns...” Draco scrubbed at the back of his neck, juggling his books and parchments to get his wand free and get into his door. “Lice, has to be fucking lice... or fleas... the oaf probably has both—Shit, fuck... oh fuck...” Another wave of air hit the side of his neck, reducing him to broken gasps as he tried to open his damn door. As a prefect, and an upperclassman, he got his own set of small rooms. Right now he needed the bathroom—to shower the fucking bugs off and wank desperately.
Draco had this thing with his neck. He was very sensitive there, ridiculously so. And lately he kept thinking he smelled Potter, and mixing thoughts of the wild green eyed boy and his neck was just fucking explosive. Finally Draco managed to get the door open, pushing it wide, throwing his school things on the bed, and then spelling the door locked.
Wand in hand, Draco pushed his robes off his shoulders, examining the fine fabric for crawlies. He couldn't find anything, but spelled some pest control over it just in case. He then unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and glaring at the collar closely. Nothing... Fucking nothing. He moved to the mirror in his room, examining where he had been itching, his neck gone pink in spots from his scratching and rubbing. Draco ran tentative fingers over the pink, trying to see if there were any bumps to indicate a rash.
Eyes half closing, he let out a broken breath from the sensation, fingers fanning wide and catching as he watched his hand move down his throat. He had thought someone had been breathing on him, could have sworn it had been hot breath moving over his neck, teasing him, tempting him... and smelling like Harry. “Fuck... losing my fucking mind...” Draco had been particularly dizzy that day. Usually he'd be able to keep some juice down, but Blaise arguing with him had turned his stomach too much for even that.
Draco kicked off his shoes, arranging them by the foot of his bookcase, and scooped up his clothes to throw in the laundry in the adjoining bathroom. He finished stripping, turning on the water and charming it to a near hot temperature. Then he leaned under the spray, head raised to let water caress over his neck. “Losing my fucking mind...” he muttered again, water slipping in and dripping out of his mouth.
Eyes closing, water sluicing down his face, Draco tried not to think of what he used to think of whenever he would argue with Harry. It had always left him hot afterwards, sometimes—most times—hard. There had just been something about Potter's eyes, especially flashing in anger, so fucking intense as they tried to bend Draco to his will, be it to speak nicely, or care about the things he cared about. Harry's righteous anger had been infuriating and damn sexy in its need to change Draco. And Draco had always been happy to bait the boy with things that would piss Potter off.
But Draco wasn't supposed to think about that anymore, and not just because Potter was dead. Draco's body had difficulties with the responsibilities placed on it as it was. Reminding himself that he got hard over boys was going to make raising a family with a girl very difficult. Having Harry's memory of scent around him today had been a challenging reminder. Draco was aching inside. He hadn't felt that ache in a long time, not since his last day of school before summer.
Potter had been staring at Draco on the train. He had gone so far as to strike up a conversation with him while alone in the narrow hallway, asking Draco what he was going to be doing that summer. His wild eyes had been demanding something of Draco—what, he had no idea—but Potter had been staring so intently, so demandingly while Draco blathered something about summer reading. God, he had ached so much once Potter had left. Draco had ended up in the small bathroom of the locomotive, jerking off desperately, biting his wrist to keep from making any noise.
When Draco had come he had wished for something else, something inside him to fill the ache. And then he had quashed that feeling down, told himself just how fucking wrong it was to want that. He was a boy, and boys weren't supposed to want other boys. And even if it might be okay to want another boy, there was no way that to want to be filled—stretched open wide and stuffed full by another boy—could be redeemable. To do the fucking maybe, but wanting to be fucked was definitely wrong.
Only girls wanted that, and Draco had no interest in being a girl. Draco didn't like how girls looked. He didn't like how soft and waif like and wide eyed they were always trying to be, as if guys were supposed to see their weakness and save them. Draco didn't need saving, and he didn't want just any boy to come around and think he could have a shot at doing such a thing. Draco was strong, and he liked strong things. He liked wild things that were even stronger than he was. Fuck, he liked wild things that could make him feel weak in comparison.
Potter had made Draco feel weak sometimes. The boy had been a damn combustion of hot power most of the time, especially when angry. Faced with that power, Draco had thought that maybe it could be enough to shut up the voice in his head that told him wanting boys was wrong. If Harry had just been a little more demanding of him, Draco might have let the boy kiss him... maybe even touch him. And one day, if Harry had been stronger, and wild, and very demanding, Draco might have even let him fuck him.
But Harry was dead and Draco was getting married soon.
Today Draco was aching, needing something inside him to fill the empty feeling. Maybe today, just today, he would think of Potter and give in to those demanding eyes in his mind. Just once, just because tomorrow was the quidditch match Harry should have fought him in, and his eyes would have demanded from him, and now never would again.

“Right...” Harry stood on the other side of the bathroom door, staring at the wide crack where Draco had failed to shut the door completely. “Okay...” The boy had just stripped, right in front of him, touching his neck like some—hell, like someone that really liked their neck being touched.
Letting out a shaky breath, Harry moved towards the door, not really sure what the fuck he was thinking, just that it was very important he make sure Draco was still actually on the other side of said door. The shower was filling up with white steam, and Harry could barely make anything out. Hand raised, he pressed at the wood of the door. It was unwarded, allowing him to pass through without resistance. Licking his lips, Harry stepped slowly through, steam engulfing his vision.
Draco was touching his neck, long fingers tracing up and down in teasing strokes. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed and lips parted as he panted quietly. In his other hand was a loofah, currently scrubbing mindlessly, trailing soap and small bubbles over his slick torso.
“Shit, Malfoy... fucking look at you...” Harry whispered, taking a step closer, hands determinedly at his sides. The boy was drop dead gorgeous, long toned body, pale, strong, lithe. He was compact, nearly deceptively delicate. Even though clearly with the muscles over his narrow hips , tight torso and flared shoulders, he was a damn fine athlete, which Harry recalled well from quidditch.
His white blond hair was nearly transparent under the water as it dripped down his body. Harry stepped closer, water moving through him as if he wasn't there at all. But the element clung to Draco, moving over his flesh possessively, sliding down the curve of his ass, the flat planes of his stomach, slipping between his muscular thighs. It was currently being directed over Draco's throat as the boy bent his head back even further, pressing his pale flesh into the spray and gasping, water streaming out of his mouth.
Harry couldn't seem to stop himself, hand suddenly inches from Draco's throat, fingertips outstretched and brushing ever so softly where the water spray hit the boy's flesh. That very dangerous feeling was rising in Harry again, eyes caught on Draco's mouth. Pulling his hand away, he dipped his head, gently blowing on the back of the boy's neck.
Draco groaned, the fingers touching his neck reaching forward to brace himself on the tile before him. Sponge still clutched soapy in his tight grasp, his movements stilled to feel the return of the strange torment that was very much like someone breathing on him. Harry shifted, eyes moving the curve of Draco's neck and hot breath following, watching Draco turn his body to direct the feel until Harry was blowing across that center dip by his collarbone again. He raised up slowly, fanning breath over Draco's throat, jaw and gasping mouth.
“Losing... my fucking... mind...” Draco mumbled, eyes shut under the water. Breathing heavily, Harry forced himself to step back, holding his hands flat against his sides to keep from reaching out. After a moment Draco's hand returned to his neck, fingers brushing the trail Harry had just taken. “Fucking... mad...”
Draco's other hand dropped the loofah on the floor, long fingers moving down to curl around his erection. He was long, flesh flushed red as his cock rose up from his body. Draco pulled with slow, long tugs, using the water to smooth his motions. Then he let go, fingers moving down, palm cupping his balls and caressing. Then further still, tense thighs spreading to make room as his fingertips danced across his entrance.
Harry dragged his eyes up to Draco's face, the boy's ripe bottom lip worried between his teeth as he hesitated. Was this the first time? Harry groaned, biting his palm even though Draco couldn't hear him. Harry had assumed the boy liked to bottom. Probably because, well, fuck, because Harry wanted to fuck his tight round bottom. Had Draco never even touched himself there?
“Fuck, Malfoy, fucking do it,” Harry commanded hoarsely, watching the struggle of embarrassment and want flickering over the boy's face. “I think you're going to like it. Pretty fucking sure you're going to be begging for it.”
Harry stared intently, Draco's expression slowly changing, releasing his trapped red lip to pant, brows furrowing tight as he suddenly gasped, body jerking. Eyes jumping back down, Harry watched as Draco began moving a finger inside his entrance, twisting and thrusting as he stretched his tight, virgin hole.
Harry leaned back against the shower tile a couple of feet away from Draco's softly moaning form. Blindly fumbling for his zip on his jeans, he kept looking from where Draco's long finger was disappearing inside him, and then up to his face, pink mouth wide in gasping pleasure.
Malfoy would fucking stop if Harry touched him. He would stop, and freak, and never again shove fingers deep inside himself, hips bucking to bury them even further. And it was very, fucking, important that Draco do this again. Preferably every fucking time he touched himself, especially if Harry happened to be watching.
Oh fuck, and he was begging for it. Hand fisting around his hard dick, Harry listened as Draco leaned his face against the cool tile while murmuring and pressing two fingers into his tight hole.
“Please... oh please... fuck... deeper... just a bit deeper... uhn...” Whimpering, Draco withdrew his fingers, moving around his outer thigh, hoping to get more reach. He pushed two fingers in again, mouth gaping, air shattering out of him as he thrust his hips back onto his fingers... “Oh god... oh... my... god... fuck me... yes...”
“Fucking told you, you fucking hot... sexy... prat...” Harry grunted, feeling his resolve crumbling as Draco continued a stream of very nasty, very desperate pleas for more. More length, more thickness, more force.
Malfoy would stop. There was no way the boy would continue if suddenly touched and licked and bit all over. No matter if Draco was currently aching for more, and Harry had fucking plenty more he would happily fucking give him.
“How do you like it, Malfoy? Shit—do you even know how you like it?” Harry growled, turning his face so he was eye to eye with the moaning boy resting on the tile wall. “Do you like it soft, slow, fucking sweet? Or hard, and rough, and god damn savage? How do you like to be fucked, you gorgeous, beautiful... bastard...” Harry watched as Draco's white eyelashes fluttered, the boy peeking his tongue out and pressing it to the tile, lapping in a firm, hard motion.
“Fucking hell. Holy fucking hell...” Harry whispered, swallowing thickly, eyes caught on Draco's very red tongue as the boy continued to lick the tile with abandon, moans and gasps muffled into the unyielding wall while he pumped fingers inside his hole. “You like something in your mouth, deep in your mouth. And someone touching your throat—Maybe a collar, so you can... can always feel something there. Mmm... and something big, and long shoved up your tight ass. Pumping into you... Taking you... Filling you...”
Harry groaned, his own tongue flicking out, tingling over the feel of magic running through the wall holding him upright. “I would really like to be that big, long cock, shoved in your hole.” Harry fought the urge to shut his eyes and give in to the feel of his palm running over his own length as he jerked in quick, desperate motions. Draco was pushing back on his fingers, knees shaking, tongue still dancing over the tile and Harry didn't want to miss anything.
Then Draco was turning, leaning his shoulder against the wall and showing Harry his hard, long, smooth lines. His eyes were drawn down Draco's pale form, lingering on his belly button, and the soft white hair dusting over his navel and thicker at his groin. He watched as Draco took his now free hand and wrapped red fingers around his even darker flushed dick. Then Draco spread his legs wider, pushing back onto his hand and then thrusting into his fist—and looking like he had done it a million times and knew how much he loved it.
“Fucking slutty... little tease...” Harry gritted out, his own hand speeding up as Draco threw his head back and sobbed, rocking on his fingers, swaying so fucking close Harry could feel the heat of his body. “That's it, Draco, that's it. Fucking take it. Fucking want it. You're so close, aren't you? So fucking close.”
“Oh god... of fuck yes... fuck... fuck...” Draco gave a choked sob, body arching as he added another finger roughly, three now stretching him wide and making his entire body ache. It was so hot inside him, so slick and tight, his fingers squeezing together as his body clenched around him, trying to be full. “Oh fuck... need more... need—so good, but not enough...”
“That's it... Fuck, I could give you more.” Harry pressed closer, making sure his fisted hand would be clear of Draco's fisted hand as the boy's hips continued to buck. Harry just really couldn't seem to fucking stop himself, and he leaned his head forward, blowing softly at Draco's throat and chin. “Come, you fucking tease. You're begging for it, and it's time to come...” He watched Draco's face react, silver eyes blinking open, revealing such fucking want and confusion.
“Fucking... fucking can't be...” Draco whimpered, even as the familiar scent filled his senses once again. “Oh fuck... oh Harry...” He came with a gasp, body tensed so tight that Draco bowed backwards, cum splattering his stomach in long streams.
Harry watched, green eyes wide in shock as he jerked his release, his own orgasm ripping through his body nearly lost to the roar in his blood from when Draco had said his name. How could he have...? Did he...? What?
Draco swayed, both hands grabbing the wall behind him. He sunk down to sit in the spray, eyes staring at the floor blindly as he caught his breath. “Holy fuck... going crazy... going fucking crazy...”
Harry had to fucking agree, because there was no way Malfoy could know Harry was there. Not from a little air on his neck, and just once, very soft fingers on his throat, lost in the sensation of the shower. There was no fucking way.
Harry stared down at Draco, smooth neck leading to toned shoulders leaning forward, knees bent up, running long hands over his feet. He crouched down beside the boy, watching Draco's ripe lips pant, taking in every healthy, fit inch of him. “You are fucking beautiful, Malfoy... Fucking magnificent... And you would never waste a fucking thought on me.”
Harry stood, fixing his jeans and sitting all the way on the other side of the room, unwilling to leave, but unwilling to stay so close to the boy he wanted so badly to touch.
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Intangible