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Picture of You	By : Abremaline Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4651 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer; Mine, all mine! Muahahaha! What? J.K. Rowling? Who the hell is
that?

Seriously, by the time this is done I doubt that she�ll
be wanting any credit for this particular creation anyway. But, well, she did
invent the places, the characters and their entire world, so�

Author; Abremaline

Rating; NC17

Pairing; Harry/Draco

Series; Picture of You. (Part 3 of 4.)

Summary;
Draco looks at a picture of Harry and remembers a
night long ago

Lonely Hands

�Potter, I�ll thank you not to go through my personal possessions.�
It was then that the blonde noticed what Harry had in
his hand, and suddenly remembered that he had left the photograph out. �I can
explain that.� It was a lame thing to say, and Draco knew it, but what else
could he say.

�I don�t think you need to.� Harry said coldly as he stood
mesmerized by the picture of himself. �The real thing wasn�t good enough for
you? Do you even know who took this picture?� Suddenly the Gryffindor seemed to
change his line of thought, �Because I don�t. I have no idea, who took this
picture, probably never cared.� Green eyes looked with hatred at the thing in
his hands. �Why do you have it anyway?�

Draco felt his chest tighten as fear and nerves gained control of
his thoughts. He didn�t know how to defend something
like that, and he certainly didn�t want to explain the truth.

�Maybe I like seeing the perfect Potter degraded.� The blonde sneered and laughed coldly, �The hero of Hogwarts
reduced to little more than a hooker without the fee.� He raised an eyebrow at
Harry, daring the other man to challenge that statement. �Then again, maybe
that�s all you ever were. Dumbledore�s little well trained boy toy, doing
everything he told you to.�

In a dramatic sweeping movement, Draco flung his arms out wide, �The
famous Harry Potter, prostitute to the people.�

His laugh was chilling, even to himself. �I mean fuck! Harry, you
even suck them off on command.� He stopped and let the words soak in, before
continuing in a lower, but no less cutting tone. �You kneel before them and do
everything they tell to, never questioning anything. You didn�t
kill Voldemort because of your parents, or because he was evil, you did it
because they told you to and not for any other reason. Always
the good little Gryffindor. Doing what he�s told.�

He had no idea, what had suddenly brought forth all these thoughts,
certainly not the photograph that was still in Harry�s hands. It was the same
anger, no, annoyance, that had
plagued him throughout his teens. Only now somehow different, perhaps it was
simply that before he had been too young to recognize the thoughts for what
they were.

They were the thoughts of love, in his own
strange way. This was the result of watching someone he cared
about so much and thought of as an equal, someone so very like himself, reduced
to being the world�s lapdog. It was anger at the world for doing it, and
anger at Harry for letting them. Potter would do anything anyone told him to,
and it was very aggravating and painful to watch.

He stopped and looked at the Gryffindor, a myriad of emotions played
across the life hardened features, shame, anger and
possibly even, Draco thought, he saw understanding. As though Harry was finally
seeing what Draco saw, and was beginning to comprehend the emotions behind years
of harsh words.

Draco stood frozen watching as Potter
crossed room, he wondered if the other man was walking towards him, or the
door. His unasked question was answered when Harry
stopped directly in front of him, green eyes searing into Draco�s silver ones.

The blonde was
scared, who wouldn�t be? The most powerful wizard the world had ever known was
standing so close that Draco could feel the other man�s breath on his cheek.
Those green eyes glaring into Draco�s own were extremely powerful.

�I never asked what you thought of my sex
life. I asked you why you had this.� The brunette
nodded towards the photo still in his hand.

Potter knew him too well, Draco realised he
was going to have give an answer, a believable one. He looked at the photo
rather than Harry as he answered. �It�s a memory.�

Eyes still fixated on Draco�s own, Harry�s
voice was barely above a whisper. �Is it a memory you want?�

Draco panicked, how was he supposed to
answer that? He forced his eyes away from the photo to look at Harry, the real
one. He looked for an underlying meaning to the words, something that would
tell him how to respond. He could see something in those eyes, so concentrated
on his own, something that was not anger.

Memories of thousands of nights sitting
there staring at a photograph ran through the blonde�s
mind in quick succession. A couple of words (if they were the right ones) and
he might be able to touch the real thing; possess something so much greater
than a photograph, a memory and a hand.

Harry�s words resonated through his head.
Did he want the memory of making love to Harry? It was beautiful that much was
indisputable, but that memory signified a perfection that he might never have
again.

�Answer me, please. Is it a memory you
want?� The pained demanding voice cut through Draco�s thoughts.

All his nerves were jumping, and he could
not stop looking at those eyes and that ruffled, messed up hair. �Bed head,� he thought to himself. �Yes
it is.� His voice no more than a whisper. Then,
feeling more confident, more certain of its truth, Draco lifted his chin and
said it again louder, �Yes. Yes it is a memory I want.�

He waited for the Gryffindor to react, but
the raven-haired man seemed frozen. Draco did not know what to do, he knew what
he thought and what he wanted, his body left no
illusions as to that. �Well?� He wanted a reaction, he needed to know his next
step, but Harry just seemed to be lost in his own world.

Suddenly, or so it seemed to Draco Harry
stepped in, placing one of his legs between Draco�s, and one of his hands on
the side of the pale face. Draco watched as the pink tongue nervously flickered
out between Harry�s lips. He was captivated by it, as
it grazed first along his top lip, then the bottom one before disappearing
again. The blonde never noticed he had been leaning
in, until he found his lips on Harry�s.

One hand slid to the brunette�s
shoulder, feeling that he was really there this time. Too many years of just
dreaming about it, he needed to touch, to feel, his body and mind demanded it.

As the kiss deepened
he felt Harry�s hand move from his cheek to his back. It rested just below the
shoulder blades and Draco felt it pulling him in closer. He moaned into Harry�s
mouth as his fingers began undoing the buttons of the Gryffindor�s shirt.

Draco pulled his mouth away from Harry�s,
both were reluctant to let go, but the blonde needed
more. He needed to taste, feel, and absorb every inch of the Gryffindor.
Everything he had been denied for so long was here,
and he needed it all so badly it was tearing him apart.

He kissed Harry�s neck sucking in and
licking a bit of the tender skin as he did so. His fingers worked at the
buttons of Harry�s shirt as his mouth made its way down the tanned chest.
Tasting it all, lingering over every inch, savouring the flavour of Harry.
Licking, taunting and tasting him, breathing in his scent, flooding his own
senses with it.

His lips, tongue and fingers could feel the
rigid tension of Harry�s muscles, frozen from sensation and indecision, unsure
of what to do. The other man�s body was mirroring Draco�s own worries, about
what they were leading themselves into by doing this. Both were unable to stop
themselves though. That part of their minds and souls that needed to be understood by someone had taken over and rendered logic
unconscious.

Harry�s robe and shirt fell to the floor,
Draco stood back and took a deep breath, this was all his. No matter how many
other people had seen it, this chest, this person, would always belong to him.
In a strange way he felt it always had.

Draco flicked his tongue across Harry�s
nipple, causing the Gryffindor to moan softly, almost closing his eyes as he
did so. The blonde smiled to himself, �Cats eyes. There you are.�

As he raised his head the green eyes held
his own, sending a message that only they would ever understand.

The blonde felt
his heart jump out of rhythm as Harry slowly removed Draco�s shirt, the only
movement being the Gryffindor�s fingers.

They studied each other�s faces as the last
of the buttons opened. Harry�s hands moved back a little and Draco watched the
green eyes fill with desire as he slipped the shirt off completely, letting it
fall to his feet.

He could feel Harry�s warm breath, see his
chest rise and fall, equally as jittery and fast paced as his own. Slowly one
hand reached out to trace a shaky pattern down Draco�s stomach. The light touch
made the blonde shiver, his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to feel,
see, touch, taste every last inch of the sensuous,
masculine body before him. He wanted to memorise every curve, every muscle, the
way those green looked at him with pure passion. The kind of passion that had always been kept aside for Draco, and only Draco.

The blonde�s heart
froze a moment, as he slowly reached out to run his hands Harry�s sides,
relishing in the mixed look of contentment and longing that he received.

Draco�s eyes slid shut as Harry ran his
thumbs down the centre of the pale torso. He gasped when he felt the mouth on
his stomach, a slight sucking, with teeth only just grazing the skin, an
amazing combination that somehow sent tingles up his back.

He opened his eyes again and watched as
Harry�s rough tongue made a small line upwards along one of Draco�s scars until
his head came to rest a moment on Draco�s bare shoulder. The slow rhythm of
Harry�s breathing sank into his skin and pulsed along his veins as calloused
hands moved down the length of his back to the waistband of his trousers,
before sliding back up again.

His head fell back when he felt the tiny
lick on the side of his neck that was followed by the
husky voice in his ear. �Where�s the bed?�

To Be Continued�

A/N;
I promise I did not end it there on purpose, I
really didn�t. It had to end there for each part to be
of a similar length. Otherwise Parts one and two would have been about 2 000 words and part three
would have been approx 4 000 words, out of sinc, you
see that? Not my fault, please don�t hurt me?
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Picture of You