Touching the Untouchable

Author’s note: I DID IT!!! Well, okay, it’s not a SEX scene, but it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten thus far! I’ve realized something though: I like exposition, explanations, and details. I don’t do much dialogue (generally it’s supposed to be a conversation that takes place rather quickly…but it ends up being several pages long because I insert so much description between the lines of dialogue) I’ve always been long-winded, and I’m not exactly sure that I can do things differently. Let me know if you think there is a balance or if it’s tipped too heavily towards the “description” side, and I’ll try to correct it.

This chapter is all Harry/Draco (whereas the previous ones were mainly Harry, Hermione, and Ron). I wanted to add in the upcoming lunch scene, but I think this chapter is already long enough, so…there’s the *WARNING* for a semi-cliff-hanger.

And just a quick reminder that I’m still writing this as I go, so apologies for the lags between updates and chapters…I hope you like it!
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Touching the Untouchable by Graballz Chapter 3 Morning Surprise


Harry came to consciousness a few seconds before he tried to open his eyes. His head hurt worse than anything, and he had to struggle to even crack one bleary eye open. His uncorrected vision was blurry, and trying to focus made his head throb. He gave up struggling and lay back quietly, letting his awareness slowly surface. The bed was strange…but comfortable. Harry sighed, rolling to his left. He meant to curl up just a little, but his knees came in contact with something, no, SOMEONE who was in bed next to him! That gave Harry a violent start, and he whipped away from whoever-it-was, eyes opening wide in panic. He had flung himself backwards so hastily that he lost his balance and unceremoniously fell off the edge of the bed in a tangle of sheets and panic.

Draco’s eyes flew open when Harry’s knees bumped his bum. He looked over his shoulder just in time to watch Harry’s wide green eyes disappear out of view as the silly git fell off the bed. Draco couldn’t help but press his lips together in order to hold back the chuckle, and he allowed himself an amused smile as he rolled over, the sheet falling away from his naked torso, and leaned over the bed, looking down at a very confused and still deliciously half-naked Harry.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he purred. He suddenly realized that Harry probably couldn’t see very well without his glasses, and he took them from the nightstand, holding them out like a peace offering. Harry accepted the offer and blanched white as the sheets he was currently twisted up in. His vision came into focus, and never in his wildest dreams (or nightmares, for that matter) had he ever pictured himself waking up in bed next to Draco Malfoy. A quick glance at his own torso confirmed that he was, indeed, topless, with just his burgundy pajama bottoms, and a furtive glance at Draco led to an unabashed stare. The blonde had an amazing-looking chest and stomach! Harry had to work very hard not to drool at the sight of Draco sitting up and stretching with the gracefulness of a jaguar. His chiseled abs elongated as Draco yawned, feeling the tension in his muscles unravel from last night’s events. Draco’s pale skin was perfect porcelain, everywhere. His pink nipples made the only color contrast on his entire chest, and they pointed outward. Even the small patch of blonde fuzz under Draco’s arm looked appealing, until Harry followed the line of Draco’s body down…swallowing hard.

Draco was sitting on the bed, covered modestly by the sheet up to his hips, but Harry didn’t miss the impressive tent that rose from Draco’s lap. A small chuckle broke his concentration, and he looked into Draco’s face to find the blonde’s shoulders shaking. Harry immediately flushed scarlet, having been caught red-handed. The pain in his head exploded unmercifully, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Oh, come on, Harry, it’s just morning wood. It happens,” Draco managed to squeeze out between fits of laughter. He managed to uncurl his legs and stand up on the opposite side of the bed from Harry. His silver pajama pants rode low on his hips, hinting at a delicious “V” shape that tapered downward and out of Harry’s sight. “I hate to be anything less than a perfect host, but I have to use the loo. There’s a Hangover Cure on the nightstand behind your head, should you choose to make use of it. I must say, though, Harry, last night? I sure didn’t expect it.” He turned and was just at the door to the bathroom when Harry’s voice addressed him, small and uncertain.

“Draco…what happened? What did we do?” Draco turned back around to face Harry, a calculated smirk on his face, which he quickly lost when he saw the pain and earnest expression in the black-haired boy’s green eyes.

“Harry, nothing happened,” Draco admitted quietly. “You passed out, and I couldn’t just leave you in the hallway, so…” he gestured about him helplessly. Harry nodded his relief, and Draco stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. Harry heard the sound of the shower running.

Still sitting on the floor, Harry twisted to one side and found the small bottle labeled “Hangover Cure” on the nightstand, just as Draco said. He felt a small rush of guilt for sniffing it warily after uncorking it…but this WAS Malfoy, after all. Harry felt a little stupid; he didn’t even know what it was supposed to look, taste, or smell like, since he had never been drunk or had a hangover before. He closed his eyes and gulped, feeling the magic slide down his throat. His headache faded away abruptly, and slightly refreshed but still feeling grungy, Harry tried to get to his feet. As soon as he put weight on the soles of his feet, though, a sharp and poignant pain shot through him, and he gasped aloud, sinking quickly onto the bed and jerking his foot up to his lap.

What the fuck…? Why are there shards of GLASS stuck in the bottom of my foot? Well, both of them actually. What happened last night?

Harry didn’t see his wand anywhere in sight, and he wasn’t about to use Draco’s without permission, so he started carefully removing the larger portions of bloody glass from his cut feet and brushing the smaller bits onto the floor. The entire bottom of his foot felt like one big cut, and it was crusted with dried blood. He gingerly examined the other one, pulling one of the larger slivers out and looking at it. It had the same color as a bottle of Butterbeer, but Harry didn’t remember stepping on broken glass. Well, Harry didn’t remember much of anything from last night, and that was the problem.

Let’s see…dinner. I remember dinner and fighting with ‘Mione. The party…the apologies…wow, I guess I drank more than I thought. I must have gone upstairs to my room to change…

As Harry puzzled out the chronology of last night, bits and pieces of memory flew back to him. Kicking his nightstand…punching someone…wait, punching someone? Harry flexed his right hand carefully; it was, indeed, slightly sore as if he had punched someone in the face. Hard. He had a vague recollection of sitting in the cold hallway, trying to quench the damn of hot tears. Vomiting his guts out…feeling better…not quite so poisonous now…damn, Draco was hot!

And that was the last of Harry’s memories before he passed out, apparently on Draco Malfoy’s bed. The final thought rattled Harry more than he wanted to admit; he had pretty much decided that girls didn’t do anything for him—and the fact that he was more than a little bit attracted to Draco had only strengthened his conclusion. He remembered the chat with Ron, and how Ron had seemed uncomfortable that he might be put on Harry’s list of ‘prospects’. Harry wondered what Ron would say about his little man-crush on Malfoy, of all people.

* * * * * *

A weight behind him and Draco’s head hovering over his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. Draco was so close that, if Harry turned his head completely, he would have been kissing Draco on the cheek. Draco smelled like lingering exotic fruits, and his hair was still damp but perfectly arranged. He was peering over Harry’s shoulder at the boy’s feet; Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Merlin, Harry! What happened to your feet? That looks painful!” he exclaimed, reaching for his wand and not noticing in the slightest Harry’s visible discomfort at being so close to him, especially since they were both still clad in only one article of clothing each. Harry shrugged as Draco cast a couple of Healing Charms, and the bottoms of his feet closed right up, good as new, some of the leftover glass that was still embedded in Harry’s feet tinkling as it hit the ground beside the bed.

Harry was suddenly very, very aware of an ache in his groin that had nothing to do with a hangover. He scrambled across the bed, brushing against Draco, much to his mingled pleasure and dismay. He fled to the bathroom and leaned against the door, trying to get his rampant erection under control.

Unsexy thoughts! Unsexy thoughts! McGonagall in a teddy! Snape at a nude beach…Ugh, good thing I’ve already thrown up everything from last night!

The idea of Snape at a nude beach deflated Harry’s prick instantly, and he quickly relieved himself. He washed his hands and grabbed some of Draco’s mouthwash, swishing it around, spitting it out, and feeling better about not having skanky breath, just in case. He opened the door to the bathroom to see Draco reclined on the bed, and his dick betrayed him, springing to life in a quite obvious manner under his pajamas. Before he could give in to total panic, Draco accurately read the expression on his face and calmed him.

“Relax, Potter, it’s just an erection. And a rather sexy one, at that. Come over here, you big prat…there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Draco patted the bed next to him, more in a friendly than seductive way. His Slytherin guile was telling him that if he came onto Harry too strongly, the bumbling thing would either have a meltdown or leave, and neither of those options was appealing to Draco. Subtlety was the much more preferable option. Draco pulled his feet up as Harry crawled across the bed, and when he straightened his legs again, he had a tent in his own pants that matched Harry’s. Okay, maybe not so subtle… Sitting cross-legged on the bed facing Draco, Harry stared openly once again at the handsome blonde’s lap. He chalked Draco’s first erection up to morning wood—after all, Draco himself had said it. But THIS was different, and it hadn’t been there a minute ago.

“Is that because…I mean, Draco, are you…” his words failed him once again, and he hastily shoved his glasses back up onto his nose as he blurted out his question. “Draco, are you gay???” Draco screwed up his face, an attractive mixture of pensiveness and slight disdain.

“Only a Gryffindor could put it that bluntly,” he said mildly. “But…if you must know…well, wait, what do you think?” Draco suddenly realized that he could avoid answering the question directly, pure Slytherin to the core. “Let’s see, I’m half naked with a ton of clothes to choose from, sitting on a bed with the most oblivious and attractive guy at Hogwarts, and I’m sporting a tent that the Russian Circus could fit into. What does that tell you, Potter?” He made Harry’s last name sound more like an affectionate nickname than the insult he had always tried to make it before, and he raised an eyebrow, a gleeful feeling rising in him. He let his eyes wander rather blatantly to Harry’s own groin area, and his member pulsed with a new desire.

Harry broke into a wide grin at being called the “most attractive guy at Hogwarts” by none other than the supremely gorgeous, flawless Draco Malfoy. Before he lost his nerve, he leaned forward quickly, catching the Slytherin by surprise. Draco dissolved into the kiss instantly, no longer worried about frightening Harry off. Harry’s lips pressed against his tentatively at first. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that this was Harry’s first, or very near to it. That thought made him smile as he gently matched the slight pressure and adding to it.

Draco’s lips were firm and moist, but not wet, and his mouth opened and closed against Harry’s sensually. Every so often, Harry’s bottom lip would be trapped between Draco’s, and he would apply just a hint of suction before releasing it to continue their snog. Harry sighed into Draco’s mouth. The blonde pulled back slightly, so that their lips were just barely touching, looking into the fluttering green eyes with smiling grey ones. Harry smiled and changed positions so that he was propped on his elbow, pressed flush against Draco’s side, his firm cock pushing into Draco’s hip. He aligned his face, cheeks pinked with desire, with the calmer, but still aroused, blonde’s, starting with a series of soft pecks along his jaw line to his chin and up to his lips, where the pecks slowly turned into true kisses that got deeper and more soulful.

Draco flicked a sensual hand over Harry’s cheekbone and down the side of his neck, just brushing the sensitive skin and causing him to gasp. His penis got harder against Draco’s side, which aroused Draco more. The sexy Gryffindor began to make unconscious back-and-forth motions with his hips, rubbing himself along the Slytherin. Draco awkwardly cupped Harry’s cheek with the hand closest to him and reached down with his other hand. He slid his hand down his heaving chest, over his stomach, and under the silk of his silver pajama bottoms. Draco grasped his own length and began sliding his palm up and down the shaft.

“Ohhh Merlin, Draco, that is HOT!” Harry hissed against his mouth, beginning to pant. “I’m…I’m gonna come!” He was getting close as his thrusting became more pronounced. Harry splayed his tan hand on Draco’s pale chest, balancing himself as his loins tightened; he began to shake in the throes of orgasm, breaking their kiss and throwing his head back as passionate shudders racked his entire body, finishing against Draco’s hip. Draco tugged furiously on his own cock, bit his lip, and groaned Harry’s name as he arched his back, jetting his seed into his pants. Harry collapsed, his head resting in the hollow spot between Draco’s shoulder and neck, breathing hard while he twitched every so often with aftershocks. Draco leaned his cheek against Harry’s head, quickly getting his breathing back under control. He slipped his hand out of his pants, wiped it on the sheets next to him, and took up his wand. He Scourgified both himself and the exhausted Gryffindor before relishing the feel of Harry Potter leaning against him as they basked in the mutual glow of their orgasms and drifted into a comforting snooze.

* * * * * *

About half an hour later, Draco began to stir, planting a soft kiss on the back of Harry’s head. Harry raised his head, feeling disoriented as a flash of déjà vu hit him—being practically on top of someone in bed—and it unnerved him a little. Shaking his head clear of vaguely haunting feelings that came with memories he couldn’t remember, he gave Draco a thank-you kiss on the lips. Draco smiled back, running his hand through the tangled black locks.

“It’s probably about time for lunch to be served, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” Draco said softly. Harry nodded. Luckily, it was Saturday, so there were no classes to attend to, and due to Harry’s hangover, they had missed breakfast. Not that Draco minded anyway, since he enjoyed sleeping late on Saturdays. All of a sudden, Harry bit his lip and looked embarrassed.

“I don’t have any of my clothes here. I don’t even have my wand, but I won’t be able to get back to Gryffindor in just my pajamas!” Harry sounded slightly afraid.

“You can borrow an outfit if you want. Leave the pants here, and wear some of my clothes. I can always put them in my book bag and make a secret transfer later,” Draco offered. Harry cocked his head, touched that his once-rival would be interested in helping him.

“Do you have an outfit that won’t immediately get me killed by my house just for being seen in it?” he teased. He sat up and stretched, just as Draco had done earlier, and received a quick poke to the stomach for it. “Prat,” Harry mumbled, ruffling Draco’s perfect hair as the blonde threw his hands up in defense, scrambling off the bed.

“Augh, Harry! No, not the hair!” Draco shrieked, half-serious and half in jest, moving out of arm’s reach as quickly as possible. “Just for that, the only clean clothes I have are green and silver with serpent patterns all over them. Unless you prefer to go to lunch in your sleepwear.” He pulled out a pair of plain black trousers and a typical long-sleeved white button up collared shirt and tossed them on the end of the bed. As an afterthought, he grabbed a pair of black underwear, black socks, and a spare pair of shoes out of his closet. Harry was looking down at the clothes doubtfully. “What is wrong with them?”

“This is much fancier than anything I would ever wear, especially on a Saturday,” Harry stammered, accepting the trousers and socks. Draco raised a perfect eyebrow.

“This is the ‘plainest’ I can manage,” he explained. “What size shoe do you wear?” As it turned out, they were the same shoe and shirt sizes, but the pants were just a little bit long on Harry, since Draco had about an inch on him. Draco rummaged around until he found a belt. He had picked out his own clothes—tan pants that Muggles referred to as “khaki” for reasons that were beyond Draco and a dark green sweater—and taken them into the bathroom to change, leaving the bedroom for Harry. He mused about the fact that they had just had one hell of a snogging session, had gotten off in each others’ presence, but hadn’t seen each other naked quite yet. Draco had a feeling, though, that that was about to change and for the better. They hadn’t spoken of it, but Draco was confident that he wanted to see Harry again. He had kind of hoped Harry liked him, and this morning proved it. He also hoped that Harry would want a repeat as well! He stepped out of the bathroom, both of them fully dressed, but seeing Harry in more formal clothes than he’d ever seen him before made Draco do a double take and practically drool on the spot!

Harry looked back at the blonde appreciatively, admiring how his dark sweater complimented his grey eyes and set off his hair in a decidedly delicious-looking contrast.

“How are we going to get out of here? I mean, I can’t exactly waltz through Slytherin’s commons room, and you and I certainly can’t march into the Great Hall together. Everybody would have a heart attack,” Harry sat down and pulled on the socks and shoes. Draco tucked his wand into his sleeve and turned to Harry with a haughty look on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I am not the ‘Slytherin Prince’ for nothing, Potter my boy,” Draco’s voice was full of mock-condescension. Harry realized that he rather liked hearing it, as long as it was only pretend. And he still smiled on the inside whenever Draco fondly called him by his last name. “Besides, Malfoys do not march. We might saunter or even slink—that Slytherin guile, you know—but we absolutely do NOT march. That is entirely too Gryffindorish for my taste,” he interrupted himself with a grin and wink at the dark-haired boy. “But I am a prefect, and that has its advantages. I’ll go make sure the commons room is clear; it should be since everyone is supposedly at lunch right now. Then we’ll sneak out, but I agree that we can’t enter the Great Hall at the same time, unless you want to stage a mock fight out of it. Otherwise, I’d say I’ll go in first, and then you come in about ten minutes later. Sound like a plan?” Draco started for the door to his bedroom. Harry rose off the bed, protesting.

“Wait a minute! How come you get to go in first?”

“Please, Potter, do you even have to ask?”

“Well, I want to know…”

“Why is it that as soon as you ask a question, it makes me want to tell you everything? Alright, here goes. I go in first and sit at my table, because as long as I’m surrounded by my people, I’ll remember how I’m supposed to act, and I’ll be able to play it cool. If I had to come in after you, and look at you sitting at your table, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from grinning just at the sight of you. Harry, you’re a Gryffindor; people expect to be able to read YOU,” Draco admitted, his voice taking on a slightly disdainful sound to cover the surge of emotions he felt inside. He was suddenly very interested in the hem of his sweater as a blush crept across his cheek. Harry’s mouth dropped open at Draco’s confession, and he crossed the room in two long strides to frame Draco’s face with his hands, lifting the blonde’s head so he could look into those beautiful grey eyes. He could see the clench in Draco’s jaw and knew he was fighting emotions that he couldn’t show. He knew better than to tease about Draco’s confession, and hope swelled in his heart that perhaps Draco wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

“I understand,” he said softly. His words spoke volumes to Draco, who was struggling to maintain his composure. “Now go check the commons room, you sexy Slytherin,” he ordered cheekily, knowing it would help Draco snap back into ‘Slytherin mode’, and it worked like a charm. Well, better actually, because Draco bristled at being told what to do and made the mistake of turning his back on Harry while looking so sexy, and Harry gave him a light and playful smack on the backside as he walked towards the door. Draco halted briefly, giving Harry as threatening look as he could muster with the smile tugging at his mouth.

“You, mister, are going to be in big trouble later for that. Bloody Gryffindor,” Draco rolled his eyes and left the bedroom. Harry pumped his arms up in silent victory; Draco wanted to see him again! He returned shortly and escorted Harry quickly to the hallway where their ordeal had started. They walked away from Slytherin’s dorms together and paused about halfway to the Great Hall. Draco took Harry’s chin in his hand and gave him a swift kiss that left the dark-haired boy gasping for air in frustration when Draco gave him the infamous Malfoy smirk and sauntered towards lunch.