Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bending Time	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
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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Chapter Three

“Mr. Potter, I have tried to make exceptions for your unique medical condition, but I must insist. If you are not well enough to continue, then you are merely an interruption.”
“Err?”
“Wake up, Mr. Potter!” Snape hissed, vindictively smacking a heavy book onto Harry’s desk. Harry jolted to his feet with a yelp, wavered, and then fell back into his seat. “Up, up! On your feet!”
“Huh? Wha…?” Harry rubbed his bleary eyes and stood unsteadily, oblivious to his classmates laughing in the background. “Was there something you wanted, Professor?” Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head and cracked his back while Snape glared at him. He blinked in confusion as his eyes fell on Dean, who was standing to his left and hiding his smile behind his hand. He lowered his arms and turned back to Professor Snape expectantly.
“Lest you have forgotten, we are starting partner work today. I pity the poor unfortunate that has gotten stuck with you. Pick up your things so Mr. Thomas can have your seat, and move out of the way.
“Oh, alright. Sorry about that Dean.” Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his textbook.
“Over here, Potter.” Snape pointed to an empty seat in the back. “Class is almost over, so use this time to read about your project and set up times to meet for any extra studying you may need. Try not to cause your partner too much grief.”
“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Harry said, keeping his face blank while Snape glared at him. Snape’s sneer barely had an edge ever since the dark mark had faded from his arm.
Harry caught Ron’s pitying look, the boy silently mouthing ‘sorry mate’ to him. He raised a brow in question and then noticed that Ron had been partnered with Pansy. Hell. Snape had mixed them in with the snakes. Oh well, dreading wasn’t going to help any.
Harry studied his feet, pushing his way past the other students still waiting to be paired off, and took the empty seat wearily. The potion Madame Pomfrey had given him to help with the lingering effects of his incident left him horribly tired, and he was already halfway asleep again when someone sat down in the empty seat beside him.
“Could you at least turn that vacant stare at page eighty seven? You don’t have to read, but I don’t want Snape breathing down our necks through this whole thing.”
Spine tingling from the familiar drawl, Harry focused as his book was opened and slid under his nose. He chanced a glance to his right, following the elegant hand on his book up, stopping at Draco’s bemused expression. “I think Pomfrey may have let you out a little too prematurely, Potter.”
Malfoy had been more of a mystery than usual recently, but still, Harry had to be seeing things. Blinking, he looked from Draco’s face to his hand, and finally back up to his face again. “Are you smiling?”
Draco snickered, pulling his own book open. “You’re drooling a river.”
“Err, shit.” Harry scrubbed his face into his sleeve, licking around his mouth just to make sure he got it all. “The meds I’m on keep knocking me out,” he muttered sheepishly.
“Yes, I heard McGonagall gave you detention. Literally heard. She was yelling that loud trying to wake you up.”
“What—She gave me detention!” All Harry could remember of Transfigurations was waking with a headache two hours after class had gotten out.
Eye’s widening in surprise, Draco hid his face behind his book as he tried to keep from laughing aloud and drawing Snape’s attention. “You should see your face,” he chuckled lowly.
Shivering at Malfoy’s strangely melodic laugh, Harry gave another wipe to his face, turned to his book, and took a look at the ingredient list. Oh. Some of this was expensive. Snape would not be happy if it was wasted on his lame attempts at potion making. Malfoy probably wouldn’t be that happy either.
“This looks complicated.”
Draco nodded in agreement, waving a hand airily. “It’s not really, you just need to work it out clear in your mind before you try to do it in real life. Even Potion Masters research a new potion before they create it. Just commonsense, really.”
Harry waited patiently for Malfoy to add on how he was lacking in commonsense, but it never came. Draco just went back to his book, his fingers idly playing with the corner of a page as he read. Draco really had beautiful hands. Not short and stubby like most people, and yet not too delicate that it made flying in quidditch difficult. His long fingers could pick a snitch out of the air and hold onto it while weaving past other players...
“Problem, Potter?”
Harry snapped back to reality, eyes flying to Draco’s face. “Err, uh... zoned out, I guess. Been doing that a lot.” Hell, Malfoy’s eyes were wild up close, sparkly with glints of blue and light.
Eyes trailing Harry’s features for a frozen moment, Draco eventually returned to his book. “Careful, Potter. I tend to make it a rule to hex anyone who stares at me.”
Swallowing thickly, Harry turned his flushed face back down to stare blankly at his book, a dazed smile curling his lips. “Maybe I should have a rule like that. It’d keep everyone from staring at my scar.”
“It’d never work for you. Your Saint Potter image works against you. You’d end up having to actually hex them all.” Draco sent him a wicked smile. “Do let me know if you try it out. I’d love to see the results.”
Harry’s stomach did a little flip and his mouth went dry. If he ever planned on cursing a bunch of annoying people, he’d definitely invite Malfoy along to watch… The boy was rather good at watching, he recalled heatedly, letting out a shaky breath.
God.
Pushing the memory aside, Harry did his best to focus on the book in front of him and not on the boy beside him.

“Har. Come on, mate. Snape’s going to fry you for loitering in his class.”
Harry blinked his eyes open, rearranging his glasses on his face. Hell, he had fallen asleep again. “Sorry Ron. I’m moving.” He yawned, looking up and around him.
The classroom was almost empty, but he could clearly make out Snape sneering from his desk.
Harry smiled sheepishly and looked up at Ron. “Malfoy’s gonna kill me. We were supposed to decide what time to study. How’s work with Parkinson? I missed who Hermione got stuck with.” He bent over and picked up his bag.
“You’re drooling again, Potter.”
Face going bright red, Harry sat back up and noticed for the first time that Draco was standing behind him. “Didn’t see you there, Malfoy,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth yet again.
“I’m not surprised when you’re so busy snoring. Do you have any free time tonight, or is sleeping the only thing you’ll be doing? There’s no point if you’re going to be like this the whole time.”
“Sorry, Malfoy.” Harry sighed, standing a little too quickly and almost tripping over his feet. He leaned his back heavily against the desk to brace himself, and looked up slowly, taking the opportunity to ingrain Draco’s form in his mind for later study.
How long would it take before Malfoy hexed someone for staring? The urge to push the limit was overwhelming.
“Damn, dizzy.” Harry smiled weakly while ruffling his hair to cover his flush. “I have to go see Madame Pomfrey next, and you know how the majority of her cures consist of nasty potions, plus bed rest, and lots of it. How about tomorrow? I have fourth period free.”
Draco nodded, his eyes sparkling intently as he returned Harry’s interested gaze. “I’ll meet you in the library. If you’re still out of it, send an owl or someone to let me know, and we’ll come up with something else.”
“Sounds good.”
“I imagine it does.” Draco smirked and slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Weasley.” He left with a curt nod to Ron and a polite smile to Snape.
Harry smiled to himself, taking a moment to regain his senses before collecting his things. “Coming?”
Ron just gaped at him. “What the hell was that!”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Harry asked blandly, leading the way out of the room and away from Snape’s meddlesome ears.
“Come on, Harry, I’m thick but not that bloody thick! What the hell was that between you two? I almost thought—No, I don’t even want to say what I thought... But I thought it, and anyone else who had seen that would have thought it too!”
Huh, Ron couldn’t even realize he liked Hermione, and yet, there you go.
“You’re off your rocker, mate. If you’re not even going to tell me what you’re referring to, then I can’t possibly explain myself, can I?” Harry looked at Ron expectantly, knowing damn well his friend would never utter such a blasphemy.
“But it’s—It’s Malfoy!”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, your point? We have to make this potion thing together if we want to get a good grade. Are you getting along with Parkinson?”
“No, and after seeing you two together, I’m completely thankful that we still hate each other!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re reading too much into this. Now really, I have to get to Pomfrey’s before I fall asleep in the hall.”
Ron didn’t look even halfway done with the conversation, but he was conscientious enough to let it go until Harry was healthy enough to get angry like he was supposed to.

“Hey, Draco! I need to talk to you about the Yule ball—Draco!”
“Fuck off, Pansy. I have a headache and I’m going to bed,” Draco snarled, taking the stairs down to his dorm two at a time.
“But it’s only five—!” The slamming of the door cut Pansy off satisfyingly. Ignoring the empty beds, he stalked over to his own bed hangings, spelled them open, and locked them shut behind him.
Harry’s sexy man form looked up with a small grin, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the bed while he read. Draco had learned that Harry had an Animagus form of a dark panther that he tended to take just in case some house elf surprised him unexpectedly. Draco was more than relieved to see Harry’s human form now.
“Everything alright, love?” Harry asked.
Draco answered by throwing himself at Harry’s stunned form and attacking him with his lips. Straddling his hips, Draco pushed Harry’s shirt up with a single, firm order.
“Strip.”

Harry blamed it solely on his lack of time spent in the library over the years. Hermione would have known, but this really wasn’t something he wanted to ask her about. Mostly because then he would have to explain why. And then somehow Ron and her would team up on him about visiting the son of a known Death Eater that wanted to kill him in a secluded spot, even if it was for Potions work. And he just really didn’t want to go through all that.
Harry had heard enough of that particular topic after Herbology class that day. So he had been certain not to be around anyone when he had opened the note that Draco had slipped to him in passing that changed their study meeting to seven. Meaning now Harry was stuck wandering down the side corridors of the library among the walls of books, hoping to catch sight of the Slytherin before he was officially late, and Malfoy angry.
Thankfully, three quarters of the way down, in a secluded area hidden away from the few students there to study, Harry spotted Draco’s platinum blond head glaring up at a bookcase. Malfoy was doing that thing with his lip, the thing he did when he was sizing something up, and in this case it was the bookshelf.
Eyes intent on his prize, it took Harry a moment to get his legs working and moving properly again. Tightening his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way over to the blond and hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.
“Hey.”
“You’re late.” Draco didn’t turn, just continued staring up at the books.
Harry glanced at his watch. “The note said seven. It’s six fifty-five.”
“Oh.” Draco gave the boy a long side-glance, taking in Harry’s disheveled hair and baggy clothes, and settling on the watch glinting on his wrist. “That’s muggle, right?”
“Yeah.” Skirting away from Draco’s eyes and the feeling they left in his stomach, Harry waved blankly at the bookshelf. “Find what you want?”
“Most certainly,” Draco whispered. Gasping involuntarily at the words breathed on his neck, Harry snapped his eyes to where Draco was smirking in his personal space. “Could you get that book for me? It’s just out of my reach.”
“Err, sure. This one?” Harry placed his book bag out of the way and searched the shelf. Standing on tiptoes, he reached for the maroon colored spine Draco pointed to. Only half a head taller than the blond, the book slipped from his fingers twice, the momentum of the third attempt sending Harry backwards.
“Bloody—!” Harry cursed, grabbing blindly for the shelf to keep from falling, only to find a pair of hands tight on his waist, pushing him back forward against the wall of books.
“All right there?” Draco asked softly.
Harry shook his head. He was pretty certain he was fine, but with the way his head was spinning, and the sudden heat that seemed to be suffocating him, he might have caught a fever. “I’m still on that stuff from Madame Pomfrey. It, uh, leaves me dizzy,” Harry finally managed to get out, wanting, but not daring to look over his shoulder to where the blond was mere inches from his face.
“I see.” Draco took a deep breath, Harry biting his lip when he felt the hot air move over his neck. “Let’s hurry.”
“W-what?” Feeling decidedly lightheaded, Harry gasped as arms wrapped tightly around his waist and pulled him close. Holy hell.
“Hurry and get the book before you get dizzy again,” Draco explained quietly. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh. I—um, well, I haven’t quite stopped being dizzy just yet,” Harry confessed, his mind reeling. “Just give me a moment.” Blushing even more, he tried desperately to stop the world from spinning. A part of him was beginning to suspect that his disorientation had more to do with the boy holding him up and resting his chin on his shoulder, than any medicine Madame Pomfrey had given him.
Draco leaned forward, his chest now pressing to Harry's back, his lips brushing lightly to his ear. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”
Harry was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. “Err, you can let go if you want.”
“I know. I don’t want to.”
“Oh.” It was at this time that Harry remembered how an easy flick of the wand could simply call books down from the high shelves. Something Malfoy had used on more than one occasion. Harry gulped, eyes staring blankly ahead. “Oh.”
Draco chuckled, watching as the back of Harry’s neck turned red right before his eyes. “We can’t have you falling.”
Harry licked his lips nervously and allowed himself to readjust his arms while he racked his brain for something beyond monosyllable sounds. “I uh, I suppose not. So, um... see any good quidditch games lately?”
“Potter.” Draco gave a soft snort and pulled his arms free, shifting away. “Is quidditch all you think about?”
Confused by the sudden lack of contact and the odd question, Harry turned his head, resting it on his arms. “What do you...?” Meeting Draco’s molten gaze, Harry’s knees nearly gave out from the look the blond was directing at him.
“Name me one thing you think about besides quidditch.” Draco stepped forward and carefully guided Harry around so his back was leaning on the towering shelf and he could look at him unobstructed. He left his hands resting lightly on Harry's hips, thumbs rubbing gently through his jeans. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
Harry swallowed thickly, finding a hole in his shoe suddenly very interesting. “Right now? Like, this very instant?”
“Yes.” Draco leaned in, looking up through his lashes to snare Harry’s eyes. “Right now. This very instant.”
“I, uh, I don't think my brain is working right now,” Harry whispered, his eyes caught in Draco's gaze. The boy's hands cupped his face, finger cool against Harry's flushed cheeks. Before Harry could realize what he was doing, he grabbed Draco's wrists hard, turned them both, and slammed the blond up against the bookshelf.
Draco gasped loudly, Harry's eyes drawn down to the way the boy's neck was arched, so long, so pale. He was beautiful. There really was no better word to describe Draco Malfoy. Beautiful. Dangerous as hell. Total git. Son of a Death Eater. But still, absolutely beautiful.
Harry shook his head, trying to fight the strange heat curling around him. God, what was he doing? He was pushing Malfoy up against the wall like some, hell, animal. There was something wrong with him to be doing this, no matter how good the boy looked... or smelled... God, or sounded, panting those soft gasps.
“Remember what I said about staring, Potter?” Draco taunted breathlessly, his back arching and pushing his body firmly into Harry's. “The same goes for touching.” His eyes fluttering shut for a moment, he let out a soft moan, arching again into Harry, their chest pressing together harder.
God. He was touching Draco. And really, what was the worst the blond could do to him, besides hex him into next year? Harry was willing to take that risk. At least his hands seemed to be, moving down the boy's long arms he had pinned above, roughly grasping his shoulders. Trembling, his fingertips traced down to the small flutter frantically pulsing at the base of Draco's long, smooth throat.
“And what if it's both? Staring and, uh, touching?” He asked hoarsely, just speaking the words aloud sending the world rocking around Harry.
Gasping, Draco's head fell back on the bookshelf, giving Harry's fingers more access to caress over his skin. “Oh... normally I'd say death.”
“Normally?” The little pulse had sped up even more, drawing Harry in until his lips were flush against Draco's throat. He could feel the beat throb against his lips. He darted his tongue out, sighing as he got his first real taste of Draco's skin. Perfect. He licked him again, more boldly, pressing his tongue out and lapping up the boy's long neck, hoping to make him moan again.
“Yes, but for you... oh god... For you I'll make an exception,” Draco said weakly. Harry gently sunk his teeth into his throat, and the blond's knees buckled. Draco scrambled for a hold on the shelves, sending loose books dropping to the ground. Harry pulled him close possessively while kneeling, wrapping his arms tight around Draco's gasping form while continuing to suck on the blond's neck. He refused to break contact, even when a heavy book toppled onto his back.
“Potter... Potter—Oh hell!” Draco cried out, his entire body jerking when Harry bit the hollow of his neck sharply. He began to shake, muscles going limp, nearly boneless in Harry's embrace.
Harry forced himself to stop, seeking the boy's face. “Did I hurt you?” He bit his lip, Draco's eyes hazy, his cheeks flushed, lips red and parted.
“No, don't stop.” Draco snagged the collar of Harry's shirt, pulling the boy closer.
Heat rising to his face, Harry hesitated. “You yelled... I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“I was a good yell,” Draco assured firmly. “A bloody brilliant yell, and if you stay I'll be very happy to show you why. Now come here.”
Harry didn't resist, Draco pulling him down and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The boy smelled amazing, his fingers shaking as he pulled Harry's glasses from his face. “Want to kiss me?” Draco traced down the narrow bridge of Harry's nose, ending with his finger resting on the boy's ripe lip. “I won't hex you. Promise.”
Harry really wouldn't mind if Draco wanted to hex him. Swallowing hard, he slowly nodded. He could feel the boy's hot breath against his cheek, could see small glittering blue in his silver eyes, and for a brief moment of clarity, Harry realized just how long he had been dreaming of this. Before he could let doubt, or the butterflies in his stomach win, he pushed forward that last inch and pressed his lips to Draco's.
It was like kissing fire. A soft, yielding fire that was determined to burn Harry alive, drink him down, consume every inch of him. He groaned, pushing harder against Draco's lips, the blond's mouth opening to him, his tongue urging him in, teasing, taunting. Draco's hands tangled in his hair, pulling him roughly, sparking wild heat inside Harry he returned with just as much fervor. Mindlessly he clutched at Draco's shoulders, pushing the boy back against the bookcase, digging fingers into the back of his long neck and devouring every taste, every growing moan with maddening abandon. He had to touch him, had to have him, had to make him his. Draco was his, and Harry had to show him.
It didn't matter that this was in fact their first kiss. Didn't matter that Harry couldn't trust Draco, not truly when he had a Death Eater for a father that wanted him dead. He wanted Draco. Needed him. Was going to have him.
“Oh fuck... Potter, oh... God.” Draco arched under Harry's quidditch rough palms as he was pushed down to the floor, his shirt pushed up, legs spreading as he thrust back into Harry's body. Harry pulled him tighter, roughly, grinding his hard dick against his hip boldly while pressing him to the floor.
Draco was rock hard against Harry's thigh, crazy wild heat that he had to touch, had to have. Wrapping one arm around the blond's slender hips, he pulled Draco harder against him, forcing his cock to grind against him as he rocked with the boy in heady, jolting movements. Draco moaned, clinging to Harry's neck, eyes shut as he shuddered and thrust into Harry's every touch.
Draco's unceasing moans eventually drew Harry' attention. He pulled his mouth away from the boy's throat again, staring at Draco in awe. He was flushed and gasping, his head thrown back, lips swollen in a silent moan as he rocked with need against Harry's body.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry gasped, leaning closer to whisper in the boy's ear. “Are you already... already there? You look it—God, you look so good. Are you going—Oh!” He groaned, one of Draco's hands sliding down between then, his palm pressing into his bulge.
“Quiet, Potter... If we're quiet, oh god, we might get away with this... Oh, Harry... Harder. Please, harder.”
Groaning again, Harry knew there was no way he could be quiet. Not with Draco looking like that, moving like that, fuck, and saying his name. It just made him want to pull more gasps and moans from the boy's red lips, louder, desperate sounds. He shifted until their erections were rubbing against each others, then kissed the boy, deeply, thoroughly, muffling both their cries while building that delicious rhythm of wild thrusts.
Draco locked his arms behind Harry's shoulders, lifting one of his legs to wrap around the boy's thigh to gain more friction. Harry growled, his hands cupping the boy's ass, pulling him harder to him, crushing them together as their desperate grindings slowed, getting closer... So close to relieving the madness inside...
Harry's hips gave a fierce buck, his cum scalding his own naval. He held Draco tighter, feeling the blond's taunt, straining form jerk again and again as he came against him, their lips locked tight to swallow every scream.
God. Holy hell.
They lay panting in the muffled library, slowly catching their breath and their senses, until Harry finally opened his eyes and groaned. “Hell, I can’t believe... I can’t believe we just did that,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes staring without focus at Draco’s heaving chest. “That was bloody amazing.” Insane. It had been insane.
“Better than that.” Draco agreed, smiling like a loon. “That was intense... and wild. Fuck, that was hot, Potter. Imagine if we hadn’t even had clothes on? I think the books would have gone up in flames, it was that hot. Actually, maybe we should try and see if that might actually happen.”
Harry started, staring at Draco’s sated expression, the boy’s heavy gray eyes looking up at him with mischief. Harry suddenly felt very nervous under that intense gaze. Not necessarily a bad nervous, but a nervousness nonetheless reminding him just who Draco Malfoy was, and what the boy was capable of.
Harry shakily pulled away, raising onto his knees and searching for the glasses he didn’t really need anymore.
“Wait.” He jumped as a hand grasped the waistband of his jeans and tugged him back. He found Draco’s wand pointed at him, and his eyes widened in alarm until a brisk, cleansing sensation ran over his body, revealing the cleaning spell.
“Don’t want you walking around all sticky,” Draco murmured, his voice losing a bit of its warmth once catching the fear in Harry’s eyes.
“Yeah, uh, did you do that without speaking?” Harry asked tentatively, momentarily forgetting his intent to move away.
“Neat, huh? I’ve been learning wandless too, although at the moment I’m rather rotten at both. You, uh, you want to see?” Draco asked a little too hopefully.
“Err, sure.” Harry didn’t quite relax, but once seeing that Draco had only intended to clean them up, he lost a bit of his unease.
Draco suddenly smirked, rocking his hips suggestively. “Wanna get off me first? You on me like this, it’s, uh, sort of difficult to concentrate.”
Blushing, Harry scrambled to his feet, feeling lumbering and self-conscious when Draco rose gracefully, combing his blond hair in place with his fingers. Harry hastily patted his own dark locks down and straightened his clothes, realizing he must look a sight next to the immaculate boy beside him.
“So how’d you...?” Harry stopped when Draco placed a finger to his mouth, the blonde’s brows furrowed in concentration as he raised his empty wand hand towards one of the fallen books.
“Wingardium Leviosa.” The book gave a tremor and rose, hovering for a brief moment before falling like a rock. Draco shook his head, turning back to Harry with a sheepish grin.
“Like I said, I’m rubbish at the moment. I figure it will take a good couple of months until I can get a real grasp of it. ‘Course not everyone can even do that little thing there, so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.”
Harry nodded, his mind whirring as he watched the dust rise off the fallen book. Absentmindedly he began picking up the books and putting them away manually. It wasn’t until he had all the books put away, and a certain maroon colored book in hand, that he turned to Draco with an unreadable look. “So your father is accelerating your studies then?”
Having watched Harry the whole time, Draco wasn’t caught completely off guard by the question. “He might be. But he’d never be so reckless as to teach me voiceless or wandless magic. He doesn’t have any talent for it, and it would be dangerous to give me a power he wouldn’t be able to control.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “And why’s that?”
Draco met the jaded gaze, smirking a tinge on the insane side. “Because I might just kill him, given the chance.”
Staring, Harry tried to read just what the hell Malfoy meant by that. Did he hate his father? Want to overthrow him? Maybe Draco was on Voldemort’s side, and hated his father all at the same time? Maybe Lucius was a suspicious bastard thinking even his own son would try to kill him if given the chance? Or maybe Draco was just fucking with his head by saying something like that with the intent to trick and possibly trap him. Obviously Malfoy wouldn’t be about to tell him right out.
“How’d you learn it then? I’ve looked for wandless magic techniques, and they have nothing at Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted Section. Apparently you need to reach a certain level of power to even be allowed to study the art, never mind the paper work and evaluations they do on you before you’re allowed to actually use it.”
Draco laughed, turning and leaning against the table with a flourish. “Only you would focus on the rules I’m breaking. Is that really all you want to know?”
Frowning, Harry walked slowly around the boy, still trying to figure out what was going on with him. “For now... Later it might be different.”
Draco’s smirk fell. “So there’s a later for us, then?” He asked in a nearly bored tone, although when he looked away, Harry could see a glint of vulnerability he never would have expected.
Harry was on Draco in an instant, pushing him hard against the desk, grabbing a fistful of his silky blond hair and twisting roughly. “I don’t know what your game is, Malfoy, but don’t think I’m going to let you go that bloody easily.”
“Ha, you think you’ve caught me, Potter?” Draco softly taunted, his back arching as he was pushed down. “Just because I gave you a little tumble doesn’t mean I’m suddenly yours.”
“I caught you our first day on the Hogwarts Express, Draco. I just took my time letting you know,” Harry growled lowly, biting the boy's ear.
Draco’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned. “Want to learn wandless magic? I might just teach you, if you ask nicely enough.”
“Oh, and what’s considered nice enough?” Harry ran his hands over Draco’s form, feeling his firm flesh, flat stomach, smooth thighs all just beneath his clothes.
“Mmm, well you’re heading in the right direction.” Draco moved up into the heated palms.
“Like this?” Harry’s fingers found the clasp to Draco’s trousers. He rubbed his thumb over the quickly reviving bulge.
“Yes... god, please.”
As suddenly as he started, Harry pulled away, eyes shuttered and cold. “I don’t make deals with enemies.”
“Hell, Potter.” Draco groaned, weakly pushing himself upright against the table, his hair sticking up on end as he slowed the wild beating of his heart. “You’re positively killing me.”
Harry shrugged, his eyes heatedly trailing over Draco’s slumped form.
He wasn’t quite a fan of how unbalanced he felt around Malfoy himself. It was like the blond brought out every intense emotion he always did his best to control. Anger, righteousness, his darker nature. And now this... this beast rearing up inside him.
Harry hadn’t known why he had said those things just then, but they were true. He had caught Malfoy all the way back on their first day of Hogwarts when he had turned down Draco’s friendship. And Draco had caught him shortly after. Harry wasn’t sure of the exact moment, but it had left him recklessly chasing after the blond on a broom he shouldn’t have known how to use.
Even so, they had always been on opposite sides, and it was stupid of Harry to think that would ever change.
“Listen, do you still want to do this Potion thing or what?” He asked abruptly, tossing the book on the table, followed by his backpack. He wasn’t quite sure how well he’d be able to concentrate, but it beat thinking himself into a brooding mess.
Draco nodded wearily, sliding down the table and taking the nearest chair. “Have you had a chance to read over the chapter?”
“Briefly.” Harry sat, avoiding Draco’s gaze, and pulled his notes from his bag, only to have them plucked deftly from his hand.
Draco quickly read them over, grabbing a quill and scribbling some notes in the margins before handing them back. “Good, you just need to be clearer on a few parts or you’ll find yourself pulling a Longbottom.” He pointed out a paragraph halfway down. “You have a dangerous habit of not putting any measurements. It’s a good way to botch up a potion.”
Harry rolled his eyes, tensing at the small dig at Neville’s expense. “I know what I mean. Besides, I always write up a fresh ingredient list and double-check everything before I start a potion.” Actually, Hermione was usually the one to double-check it and fix any confusion, but Harry really didn’t feel like admitting that to the blond.
Draco shrugged, dropping the subject. “Just making an observation. You can’t expect to remember everything, especially with all the other classes we take.”
Harry grunted, shifting so his arms blocked his parchment while he read over Draco’s additions. “What’s with this extra boiling? The book never mentioned that.”
“If you boil it beforehand, it will become more potent, helping to speed the time it takes to root out the byproduct toxins from the first step. I read up on it, and it’s perfectly safe.”
Considering this was also Draco’s grade at stake, Harry doubted he was lying. “Do you always put so much thought into your potions?” He gave Draco a long side-glance, watching the boy flush.
”I, uh... I like to make use of my brain. It’s fun,” Draco said quietly, his fingertips playing idly with the pages of his book. “I like solving problems and riddles, and if you look at it right, potions are just filled with riddles. Most everything is, really.” He bit his lip, looking up to find Harry staring at him. “What?”
Harry raised a brow, slowly shaking his head. Malfoy was the biggest riddle of them all. “Malfoy, do you, err, do you... well... think?” Harry asked tentatively, leaning his head on his arms and turning towards the blond with an unreadable expression. “You say you like to use your brain, but do you ever use it on the stuff going on? Do you bother looking for riddles in all the fear spreading? In You-Know-Who?”
Draco sat back with a long exhale. “I’m not giving out this sort of information freely, Potter. I could get myself in a bit of nasty trouble if rumors started going around on just what I think about.”
Harry closed his eyes, sighing. “No deals for enemies.”
“Maybe I’m not your enemy. Maybe I’m just your rival. Or maybe I’m not even that anymore.” Draco studied his hands. “Maybe I’m tired of fighting a fight that has no meaning to me.”
Reaching over, Harry wrapped his finger around one of Draco’s, plucking lightly at the digit.
“Potter…”
“There are things I really want, Malfoy. Things I’d like to believe.” He looked up into Draco’s troubled face, surprised with just how easy it was to say. He had hidden this inside for a long time, but the words were easy to find when he reached for them. “Because of that, I have to be extra cautious. I can’t just believe, because there is always the chance that I’m only fooling myself. I can’t make a deal with you when your father is connected to Voldemort. All I can do is promise that I won’t use anything you tell me here against you. How you want to go from there is up to you.”
“You’ve got nerve.” Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it still. His voice was soft, taking the edge off his words. “You sit here clothed in arrogance, allowing me to have my say. You expect me to trust your word at face value, when you can’t even do the same for me.”
Harry pursed his lips, not denying it, but also not enjoying the fact either. After a long moment of contemplation, he decided he could at least make an effort to trust Draco.
“So, come on and spill. Just what does Draco Malfoy think about?”
Draco smiled mysteriously and abruptly stood. “Did you honestly think I’d tell you, just like that?”
“Malfoy,” Harry growled warningly, his hands tightening into fists on the table.
Draco rolled his eyes, playfully tugging Harry’s arm. “Not here, you fool. Unlike you, I don’t have quite an abundance of recklessness to just throw my life away with a few unheeded words.”
Harry stood at Draco’s insistence. “You say that a lot, you know, but I find it hard to believe.”
Draco blinked, turning back from where he was picking up his books. “What?”
“He’s still your father, you know. I can’t imagine that he’d really hurt you...” Harry trailed off at the look Draco gave him. Obviously he was very wrong.
“I’ll excuse that because you’ve never had parents to control your life, Potter.” Draco said tightly. “Our main code is loyalty. And loyalty to my father means absolute compliance and submission. If there is the slightest hint that I may not be loyal, then I become a worthless traitor in his eyes. As it is now, I’m nothing more than a loyal heir that has failed my father on too many occasions to be able to sleep easy.” Draco looked away, his good mood gone.
Harry stared at the back of Draco’s head, chewing his lip thoughtfully.
Is that how Lucius treated his only son? Like some sort of tool? Harry had enough issues with the Death Eater Malfoy, having seen through Voldemort's eyes just how fucked up the man was at times. That Draco seemed to hate him... Well, that gave Harry hope, messed up as it was.
He wanted Voldemort and Lucius out of the way so he and Draco could have a chance to... Well, a chance to figure out what was burning between them. He wanted it so much, he was willing to risk his own damn life for it. It wasn't good. It wasn't smart. But it was honest.
Shaking his head, Harry reached around Draco and grabbed his bag. “Come on, I know a good place for privacy.”
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Bending Time

Chapter Three