Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Attraction in Opposition	By : freakenbree Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6177 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and company. I am not making profits from this fandom. All rights reserved to J.K.Rowling and copyrights.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author’s Note: Wow! Had a great turn out for reviews and decided to do another chapter as requested by a few of you. Thank you again for such great reviews complimenting my work. This was my first Draco/Harry story, so I am glad I did it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and company. All rights are reserved and this merely a fandom in which I claim no financial stake.

Warnings for chapter: violence, sexual content of an explicit nature, language, and relations between two male characters.

The Attraction in Opposition

-Chapter Three-

Into the Spider’s Web

“Some rather interesting information has been brought to my attention, Mister Potter,” the unusually chipper headmaster was settled chin to fingers in a contemplative manner as Harry sat having been called to his office. Harry could guess what might have come to the man’s attention, but listened any way, giving way to an inquisitive brow. “There is a story about that a certain Slytherin and Gryffindor are magical counterparts. Do you know any information in which might help me to identify those parties?”

Harry breathed evenly and fiddled lightly with his now sweating palms. “It hasn’t been quite proven, sir.”

Dumbledore watched him patiently and then nodded his head. Settling back into his chair, his fingers laced in and out of white tresses of the man’s beard during his slight moment of pondering. The light blue eyes never left Harry’s, comforting him as if he needed the reassurance.

“I see,” the older wizard finally said through the silence. Fawkes screeched in the background, startling Harry out of his fix on the man. He breathed again and gave the man the best impassive face he could muster.

“Draco Malfoy claims to have created a potion to find magical counterparts,” Harry explained though his fingers twisted almost painfully around each other in his attempts at keeping his calm. “He first used it on himself and then thought it a good idea to use it on me—secretly.”

He emphasized his words in order to get it across he played an unwilling part in all of it. He sighed and continued. “It would seem he has resolved that we may…be magical counterparts, sir.”

“Ah,” the man gave way to and a small smile tainted the calm of the man’s face. Dumbledore watched him, eyes twinkling as they often did when he was about an idea, and gave him a small gestured wave of hand. “So that was it then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how do you feel about all of this, Mister Potter?”

“To be honest,” Harry said retaining his calm. “I think Malfoy was mistaken in the creation of his potion. He said it was experimental.”

“Is that so?” the man mused. “There are other ways in which one’s magical counterpart may be identified.”

Harry perked at the admission, but his stomach curled impossibly when he understood what Dumbledore meant by it. “Sir…”

“If it to be truth,” Dumbledore continued. “It would greatly increase our advantage towards the Cause.”

“Yes, but—“

“Duel magic of that magnitude would be quite powerful against you-know-who,” Dumbledore said smiling. Harry felt his stomach twist again; it felt as if there was a large mass building inside of it, spreading heat and tremors about his now shaking form.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry finally managed. “Malfoy is the son of a Death Eater.”

“Not a fault in which should be placed upon his shoulders,” Dumbledore chided. “Mister Malfoy is his own person as you should understand.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek against the retort forming. His hands clenched, and he finally gave way to the man’s suggestion. “What are the other ways?”

“Spells in which are quite difficult, but for someone of my abilities, easy enough. I could perform one in which to identify if you are a match and of what sort,” Dumbledore said coolly. The man was practically forcing Harry to give way. Though Harry hated the idea, he nodded his head in agreement.

“It would seem,” Dumbledore spoke once more. “That you and Mister Malfoy have yet to mature in your magic, but that could be helped along with a bond if you so choose it. First, however, it is essential we identify whether you share such a connection.”

Harry felt the weight in his stomach grow and felt helpless against it. The Cause was everything they had been working towards. Voldemort was a real threat in which could not be ignored and any advantage against him was welcomed. However, Harry wished it did not come in the form of a certain malicious Slytherin who had spent his every day taunting and insulting Harry from the time they met. Despite it all, he nodded again and merely gazed at the man before him demanding he hand over not only his life inevitably but his body to the Cause.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said smiling over half-mooned spectacles. “I would like to see you and Mister Malfoy in two hours in order to perform the necessary spell.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said respectfully and excused himself, the knot in his stomach ready to burst.

*

When he had once more arrived at the statue leading way to the office, he was much more nervous than he had been in quite some time. Hermione had offered no reassurance, merely backing what Dumbledore said with a list of reasons as to why it would be advantageous. She had stated, though not outright, that Harry had already felt a sort of attraction to Malfoy, so the body connection would not be such a disdainful event. Harry begged to differ on that account. Not only did he think the act repulsive, but the idea of doing it for the Cause was even more so. How much did he have to give of himself to defeat the dark wizard plaguing his dreams?

“Yazzberry drops,” he said to the statue. It gave way, revealing the way to his fate. He sighed and made his way to the headmaster’s office, hoping beyond a hope that the spell he was about to subject himself to would yield a better result than Malfoy’s experimental potion.

When he arrived inside, Malfoy was already standing inside, looking impassive and arrogant as usual. Harry felt the back of his throat give way to a grunt of disgust as he passed the rather tall wizard on his way to Dumbledore who sat humming to himself. Dumbledore gazed at him with a small smile and wave of his hand to come forward.

“I am glad to see you, Mister Potter,” the old man announced as if to an audience. Harry heard Malfoy scoff behind him and found his fists once more clenched to hold back his own anger. “Stand just before me, near each other, and clasp your hands together.”

Harry did his best to keep the surprise from his face but with little success. “Do what?!”

Malfoy was standing next to him, his head turning to stare down his nose at him, mocking Harry with his smirk. “Take my hand Potter.”

Harry glared at the boy who challenged him. He refused to be mocked in front of Dumbledore and so with the grit of his teeth, he clasped the taller boy’s hand—barely. Dumbledore seemed to watch the exchange with his eyes twinkling almost impossibly. Again, Harry felt the pit of his stomach give way to a renewing knot. However, at the contact of the other’s hand, he felt a sort of relief wash over him making him dizzy against it.

“Very good,” the man chimed. “Now stand still, this shall only take a moment.”

Harry stiffened as Malfoy’s hand interlaced fingers sending an electric shock to run through his arm, sparking and leaving goose flesh in its wake. Harry shivered and turned to glare once more at the other, but was greeted with another smirk. If not for the headmaster, he’d hex the look right from Malfoy’s arrogant mug.

Dumbledore aimed his wand at their joined hands, “Revelare magicis instar.”

The soft glow of light shot straight to their hands and soothing warmth radiate over their joined palms. A soft surge of electricity shot through him once more and Harry gave way to a gasp as his legs weakened. Malfoy clasped tighter around his hand as if the action would hold him upwards. The warmth turned to impossible heat and their hands sparked a deep red light before it dissipated.

Silence followed though welcomed as Harry yanked his hand from the other and regained his breathing which was now fast and uneven. Daring a look to Malfoy, he was slightly disappointed to see the taller fair-haired Slytherin was unreadable as usual. It seemed he had been the only one affected to such an extent. Maybe that was a good sign, Harry thought eagerly.

“Just as I suspected,” Dumbledore said serenely. “It would seem you created quite the potion, Mister Malfoy. Would you care to write out the ingredients and brewing instructions so that I may pass it over to an acquaintance of mine? You will reserve all rights to it, of course.”

“Certainly Headmaster,” Malfoy said through an overconfident smile. “I will send it over once I have returned to my dorm.”

“What did the spell do?” Harry said breaking through. He was losing his temper of the two; they spoke as if he wasn’t even in the room. “Are we magical counterparts or not?”

“It would seem you are in fact magical counterparts, Mister Potter,” Dumbledore said giving him a rather content look. Harry’s world was once more crashing over him, leaving him breathless and light-headed. He teetered slightly from the new weight in his head, but Malfoy caught him before he could stumble forward. Harry pushed the other away from him though weakly; he refused to regard the way touching the other felt entirely too good or how he wished to curl into the arrogant prat’s embrace. Malfoy stepped back and merely watched him through impassive icy-blue depths.

“What type?” Harry pleaded. He wished for blood relation as his heart hammered in his chest. He never would have wanted to be blood connected with a Malfoy, but for this very reason, he was sure he would take blood over other circumstances.

“You are what are referred to as Oppositions,” Dumbledore said calmly as if the term was the most normal thing in the world. Harry glanced over at Malfoy hoping that the other was just as outraged as he was, but he found the other teen resolved and nodding in agreement. How could Malfoy be so calm? Harry fisted his hands and wished for one punch to that smug expression on Malfoy’s face. Suddenly the realization of what had just been told to him hit him like a block of cement; they were Oppositions in which had a submissive and dominant counterpart. He felt sick and the mere idea of what it meant felt like he would crumble beneath the pressure now mounting on his shoulders.

“Sir,” Harry said swallowing. He moistened his lips with a small swipe of tongue as he continued to process what this meant. “I refuse.”

Harry turned on his heels and left the office—two wizards wide-eyed and speechless in his absence.

*

“Harry,” Hermione said softly. He refused to look at her. He was huddled in the corner of the second floor’s girls’ lavatory. She pressed a small hand on his shoulder, and he let out a soft sob. He never cried—not when he was left for days without food in the cabinet beneath the Dursleys stairway, not when he faced the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, not even in the face of Voldemort, but today he did. He cried for himself. He cried for all that he was losing by allowing such a charade to go through.

He pressed his hot, tear filled eyes to his bent knees giving way to soft cries of anguish. Though Harry gave way to all that he was, he never once thought that love would be taken from him. Not that he ever thought he would find love or even could with what he faced each day, but it was one thing that was a constant comfort. He could always love freely. He could choose who he loved and no one was to take that away—not until now at least. How would he find love if he was buggering Malfoy because of some stupid magical counterpart connection? It was rubbish—he was rubbish.

Hermione rubbed his back affectionately as Harry continued to sob into his knees. She must think him weak to cry over something so small. He sniffled and rubbed his face into his knees. Her arms came around him in a tight embrace, and she shushed him, rocking him as a mother would their hurt child.

“It will all be okay, Harry,” she reassured softly. “I promise.”

He cried softer, but the tears were still coming as if they were endless. He felt his body weaken under her touch, softened and lax against the comfort of it. She continued to hug him to him, hushing him and running fingers through his hair. He let out a small stuttered breath and let sleep come. He hadn’t had much the last few days, but now it felt so warm and safe that sleep came almost too easily.

*

“Harry,” the soft voice of the medi-witch woke him from his slumber. Harry opened his eyes to a concerned older witch, her face worn with worry. “Can you sit up?”

He nodded and rose as a glass was handed to him, and he drank greedily from it. The water quenched his thirst and he finished it quickly. She watched him sighing her displeasure as Dumbledore came into view.

“How are you feeling?” the man’s voice was soft and soothing but still burned anger in his belly. If it weren’t for the man’s suggestion, he would not be in this current state. Harry sighed knowing he could not blame the headmaster for all that had transpired.

“Fine, sir.”

“Good,” the man said shortly. He settled down next to Harry giving him a small sad smile. “You left in such haste the other day I had not time to speak with you. Are you displeased with the results yielded from the spell?”

Harry knew that lying to the man was fruitless so he merely nodded his response.

“I can understand it was quite a shock, I am sure, and to know you are connected with Mister Malfoy. These connections are ones in which are very rare. I realize that it may seem devastating, but while you may not feel so now, you will eventually mature in your magic and seek Mister Malfoy out.”

Harry turned his eyes downwards, biting the inside of his lip and refusing to say anything to the older wizard before him.

“I will,” the man continued thoughtfully. “—however, respect any decision you make in light of the information, Harry. This is your choice as to how you would like to proceed. Madam Pomfrey tells me that you have been prone to little appetite and sleep deprived, so she has requested I speak with you about the affects of this particular connection.”

Harry watched him curiously. He had felt very little need to eat, and he had slight insomnia as of late, making it impossible to focus for his classes because his brain was lagging due to exhaustion.

“Your professors have expressed concern for your lack of attention during their lessons and growing irritation towards both them and your peers,” Dumbledore said though not faulting Harry with his eyes. “This it seems is a result of the potion Mister Malfoy created. It has alerted your magic to the presence of your magical counterpart. You could say they are withdrawal symptoms of a sort. Could you explain what you felt when you took Mister Malfoy’s hand yesterday?”

“Uh,” Harry said after a moment. “It was a bit relieving…”

Dumbledore nodded knowingly, “And right afterwards you ended up passing out in the girls’ lavatory, did you not?”

“Yes,” Harry said slowly.

“Had you gathered why that might have been?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “I figured it was because Hermione calmed me down.”

“It was as a result of your magic receiving a slight replenishment that allowed you to relax enough to sleep,” Dumbledore said softly. “However, it was not enough and thus, you have still been unable to eat.”

Harry nodded again, “So…”

“So Harry,” Dumbledore said rather intimately. “It seems that your magic is already seeking Mister Malfoy out and without replenishment, you will slowly begin to deteriorate. Do you understand?”

Harry swallowed and closed his eyes, “Yes. So basically, unless I want to starve and lose more sleep, I have to touch Malfoy.”

“It would seem so,” the man gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “I have made arrangements to have you transferred to Slytherin tower temporarily until Professor McGonagall and I have come up with a better arrangement. However, if you choose to decline, we will have to make arrangements in order for you to have your magic replenished daily.”

Harry felt sick and his stomach rolled. He had little choice now that it seemed that Malfoy’s potion had made it impossible. Then it suddenly hit him, “Sir, has Malfoy been having the same problem?”

The headmaster was quiet for a few moments and then he began rather slowly, “What do you know of magical counterparts and Oppositions, Harry?”

He shrugged, “Just a little. Hermione showed me a passage from a book in the library. I just know that they are opposites magically speaking and that there is a dominant and submissive in the partnership.”

“Correct,” Dumbledore smiled. “However, the submissive partner often needs replenishment more often than the dominant. It is theorized it’s as a result of giving their magic to the dominant in order to allow the dominant to retain a constant supply. Do you understand why?”

Harry shook his head, not truly understanding what the other meant.

“The dominant provides protection and anything in which the submissive needs thus the submissive offers over their magical supply to the dominant to retain their protection.”

Harry’s forehead furrowed as he began to understand just what the older wizard implied. “So you mean to say…I’m the submissive partner?!”

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate a moment, but then nodded and gave Harry another pat. “I’m afraid so Harry.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry said ignoring the fact he had just cursed in front of his headmaster. Dumbledore seemed to ignore it and merely stood.

“How would you like to proceed?”

Harry was once more overwhelmed by the tremendous amount now on his shoulders in light of all the information. Whether he wanted to or not, sooner or later, he would need to touch Malfoy. He let out a defeated sigh and looked at the headmaster.

“When should I get my belongings?”

“Excellent,” the man said a bit too enthusiastically. “I have already had them sent to Slytherin tower and Mister Malfoy, as head boy, has agreed to escort you once you have been released.”

Harry laughed without humor but nodded at Dumbledore, wishing to no longer talk. All he wanted was to sleep—hopefully never wake from it.

*

“Intending to make me wait indefinitely Potter?” Malfoy sneered as they met just outside the infirmary. Harry held his tongue, deciding it best not to argue with the spider just before entering its web. He followed the taller wizard towards Slytherin tower, his stomach curling again impossibly as his body ached violently against the restraint of not touching that pale, baby soft skin.

Harry allowed his eyes to stray as he numbly followed the fair-haired Slytherin. Malfoy only fashioned trousers and a black shirt. The trousers were rather form-fitted and hugged at his arse every step the bulky teen made. Broad shoulders, fit with definite muscle beneath, shifted to and fro as Malfoy’s pace quickened. Harry found his tongue moistening his lips, as if to taste the form at a distance.

It was well past curfew as the hall ways were encased in darkness, their footsteps the only break in the silence around them. Harry felt oddly safe, however, as he followed Malfoy well down the corridor and then to a staircase leading up to the tower.

Harry felt an odd sensation wash through him and stumbled as a result. Arms were around him as his body almost gave out beneath the sudden shift. He was pressed against the hard wall, the other boy leering over him.

“Is there no end to your clumsiness Potter?” Malfoy hissed in annoyance.

“No one asked you to help,” he barked as he tried to push the other away, but only managed to splay his hands out on Malfoy’s chest, shivering beneath the feelings that settled through him. It was like crawling into the comfort of a bed after Quidditch practice—days of Quidditch practice. His eyes fluttered closed as his body leaned towards Malfoy despite his head demanding he push the other away.

His breathing was labored as their bodies met, sparking heat to run through the length of his body as if enveloped in a warm bath. Harry titled his head back, pressing it against the wall and the arms tightened around him, pulling him flush against the other as the skin of his neck was tasted roughly. He gasped against the sensations running over him, burning his flesh when their skin touched. It was a feeling of complete bliss as lips made their way up towards the shell of his ear, hot breath wafting over it and causing another series of tremors to run through his spine. He curled into the touches, whimpering for more though his brain fought to keep control.

“You taste heavenly Potter,” the voice was just as intoxicating as it had been in his dreams.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed as his brain finally made an attempt at regaining control, but he could not push or pull away. He was immobilized against the sensations now shredding every bit of his willpower he had stored.

“Your actions betray your words, Potter,” Malfoy ridiculed. “I daresay you are eager for it.”

Harry swallowed—his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly against the dry of his throat. Lips ghosted over his and he found a whimper leaving his throat as hands grasped at his arse. A leg pressed against his tightly drawn thighs and they gave way allowing it to slide through though his mind was screaming at him to again fight off the touch. His body was willing and welcoming to every contact that the other offered.

“What do you want Potter?” Malfoy questioned evenly. Lips brushed his own as the words were whispered eliciting a gasp as the need to smash their mouths together threatened to overtake him. Harry’s hands clasped into fists and nails bit into the palms of his hand as he squeezed.

“Merlin,” Harry said breathlessly.

“Is this all it takes for that pretty mouth of yours to stay shut,” Malfoy mocked. “Duly notated.”

Harry wanted to counter, but his body was causing only groans and curses to leave his lips. Forming some sort of coherent retort would require blood to his brain to which there was none as it was currently fleeing south. Instead, he let out a stuttered breath and pressed hands to Malfoy’s chest, willing his body to obey and push the snarky bastard, but again with little success.

He opened his eyes, though half-way lidded in his arousal, and captured the icy-blue gaze that was illuminated by dim light. Malfoy looked like a predator hovering over his kill—and Harry certainly felt like prey. A hand curled around his throat, forcing his head further backwards as lips fell over his and dominated him—claimed him. He submitted as his body finally gave way to the other and a tongue pushed passed his gasping lips stroking his roughly before retreating.

Malfoy pulled away with a smirk, “Just give it up Potter. I own you.”

Those words were enough to snap him out of his arousal-induced haze as he was finally able to push Malfoy away from him. However, it did not faze the fair-haired bastard as he regarded him with a smug expression, drawing his arms tightly to his chest in triumph.

“Fuck you Malfoy!”

“I do believe it is you who will be getting fucked,” Malfoy said seductively and then turned, making his way once more up the steps. Harry breathed heavily under his rage, his arousal, and most of all, his humiliation. He followed the spider towards the web, knowing he would be sucked dry upon arrival and not sure how he truly felt in light of it.

*

To be continued…
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Attraction in Opposition