Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fate	By : silverdragon4736 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4778 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the character from the books or movies, I don't make any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
CHAPTER THREE

His stomach growled again.

Draco Malfoy looked down into the carriage at his prisoner, who was still unconscious. Since this was Harry Potter, he lifted a water bucket and dumped the whole thing on him.

Hah!

Much to Draco's dismay however, Potter didn't sit up coughing as he'd hoped. He didn't even flinch. He just slowly opened his eyes as if he has all day; as if he were dry as summer instead of dripping icy water from a nearby brook.

Potter stared at Draco from his vibrant forest green eyes. He didn't remember Potter having such intensity in his eyes. Hatred, anger, loathing and annoyed looks… that he was used to. But this was different.

It was the most unsettling look he had ever received.

For a brief instant he forgot that this was Potter.

He forgot to breathe.

He forgot to move.

But he would never forget that look.

Some weak part of him wanted to turn away, but he couldn't—wouldn't. Their gazes were suddenly weapons, each one of them trying to overpower the other with a look.

Draco's chin came up, yet he didn't blink. He would not let himself look away or even move. Not first, anyway.

He had to win. He had to.

Draco couldn't guess Potter's thoughts, but he had the uncanny feeling Potter knew his better than he did. Why was it that Potter was his captive, yet Draco felt like he was the hunted?

"Draco!" Blaise shouted. "Come here!"

He blinked. "I'll be there in a moment."

Potter smiled mockingly, arrogantly, as if he'd won.

Draco drew his dagger and smiled back slowly, smugly.

Take that Potter!

Potter didn't react.

He moved the dirk toward him, waiting for some reaction from him: fear, tensing of his muscles, a tightening of his jaw. He got none, yet his own heart began to pound in his ears.

Potter never took his gaze from Draco's.

Draco felt his smile slowly fading. He moved the dirk down, pausing above Potter's heart.

No response. His manner was completely unchanged.

He moved the dirk to his belly.

Still nothing, not a flinch, not a sign that Potter was aware of his weapon.

His bluff wasn't working. He took a deep slow breath and moved the dagger lower.

He waited. No man wanted a knife of any kind near their groin. What would they think if something happened to it?

Time felt as if it had stopped. The tension between them grew rapidly until the air was taut and silent as a war ground was before the battle charge.

"Draco!" came the impatient call again.

Damn Potter's eyes for never flinching. Draco raised the dagger high. What will he do now?

Potter didn't even blink.

'Damn me', he thought to himself, 'for giving in.' He sliced the small knife downward toward Potter's feet and cut right through the knotted shoelaces.

"Get down." Draco waved the dagger in Potter's face. "And if you try to run away, you'll find this dagger behind your back." He gripped the splintery rim of the carriage with one hand and leapt to the ground.

He never saw the exposed nail.

Two steps and the sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air. He turned.

His robe had a hole in the back of it that was the size of the oaf's grinning black head. Draco jerked the fabric from the nail, spun on a heel and marched toward the others, his head high as he ignored Potter's snort of laughter.

"Malfoy!" Potter's voice was so deep it sounded like thunder.

He didn't remember Potter's voice sounding that deep. Vaguely he thought how cruel fate was to give Potter such fortune—being taller than him, looking stronger than him, catching the snitch faster than him, and now sounding manlier than him even after his countless of practices in front of the mirror.

He took comfort that at least, unlike Potter's, his hair was manageable. Bloody hell! It was perfect, if he did say so himself.

He took a deep breath, but did not turn around.

"I'm honored that you would show me such a view!"

Draco stopped. View? What view? He cast a glance over his shoulder to see what Potter was braying about.

Potter stared at his back, grinning.

He tried to follow Potter's gaze but couldn't look over his shoulder. With a sinking feeling of pure dread, he reached over a hand around, over his back. Over his hip. Over the tail of his shirt… and lower.

Draco touched bare skin. The hole was right over his arse. He jerked the folds of his robes, adjusting them to cover the rip of his robes and pants. He stuck his chin high and marched off, calling vivid and vile curses down upon the obnoxious Potter.

Stupid hard-headed Potter!

Harry's head wasn't the only thing that was hard.

His grin faded as he watched Malfoy stomp off. He leaned against his bent knees that were still stiff from lying prone for so long in the hard carriage.

An interesting last few moments, Harry thought. He was used to battles of pride. He had many of those during the war. But he'd never had to do this kind of staring battle with the Malfoy heir, who could have easily have gelded him with that dagger of his. He must be daft, to be toying with him.

Harry jumped down to the ground.

Malfoy stood by the other stagecoaches talking to Zabini and Goyle, while Parkinson kept burrowing through the supplies frantically.

"Has any of you seen my pipes?" Parkinson shouted.

Malfoy shook his head, gave Zabini and Goyle a conspiratorial smile, then, as if he'd felt Harry's stare, turned toward him.

Malfoy's smile faded.

For some reason, Harry cared not to analyze, that annoyed him.

Malfoy's chin went up a notch; then his hand slid to the handle of his dagger. He gave Harry a look that said, "I won."

One for Malfoy.

Harry leaned casually against the side of the carriage, crossing his ankles in nonchalance before intentionally staring straight at Malfoy's arse. He slowly let his gaze roam up from his feet, stopping every so often to smile knowingly and linger on another intimate part of his body before traveling on.

By the time Harry reached that incredible face, Malfoy was bright red and glaring. And Malfoy turned away.

One for Harry.

Harry laughed, using his loosely bound hands to shove away from the carriage. He twisted his wrist so the rope became tighter. It wouldn't do for it to fall off in front of them.

He took a step.

"Don't move!" warned Goyle.

Harry looked over his shoulder and froze.

Goyle stood nearby, pointing a dirk at him.

"Don't move!" Goyle warned again.

"I'm not moving, mate." Harry replied.

One for Goyle.

"Look! I found my pipes!" Parkinson's voice rang loudly from somewhere.

A moment later screeching pipes bellowed through the air.

Harry hit the dirt. Goyle moved towards Parkinson to stop that foul awful screech and Harry had never felt more grateful to anyone.

When he looked back, a familiar sight stopped in front of him. Draco Malfoy.

Across the way, Parkinson hit the pipes again. He ducked his head again. He thought the top of his head might blow off.

"I thought you said she wouldn't find it again."

"Sharp ears, Potter."

"Sharp tongue, Malfoy." Harry looked at him then, slowly, past his legs, past his hips where he rested his small fists, to that defiant and amazingly beautiful face.

"You move quickly, Potter, for someone who could be so easily captured."

"Not so quickly, Malfoy, that I cannot see a nail." Harry paused. "Or feel a draft."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and his face flushed a familiar rosy color that made Harry grin.

"I shall not banter with idiots like you, Scarhead!" Malfoy sneered raising his chin up in arrogance.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Can't think of anymore insults? Must be the cold getting to you." Harry said mockingly.

He took pleasure that Malfoy went a shade darker.

"You should watch what you say, Potty-mouth. I might change my mind and just slit your throat. Remember, you're the one tied up." Malfoy said maliciously, taking the dagger out.

Harry snorted knowing that Malfoy wouldn't have the nerve to harm him, lest he wants to forfeit the supposedly 'ransom' he'll be getting out of him.

"Potty-mouth. Scarhead. Aren't those insults a little too juvenile? A bit pathetic…" Harry continued adding the one bit he knew would get on Malfoy's nerves, "don't you think, Ferret?"

Harry smirked and Malfoy's eyes narrowed into a hard glare that would have work had it not been for the blush he was sporting and the pout that was just too tempting for Harry.

"I'm warning you, Potter!" he said before he spun around.

Harry watched him walk away, his head high, his shoulders and back straight. He oozed of elegance. He had sheer determination in every movement of his body, this ferret with dagger-sharp tongue, temper so fiery, and the face of an angel.

Goyle approached Harry, once again. "You're to move over there. By that tree." He nodded toward a large fir at the edge of a small clearing. "Where I can keep a better eye on you."

Harry stood, moved over toward the tree and could hear Goyle trudging in his wake.

Harry pointed at the tree, and asked, "You want me here?"

Goyle nodded, keeping his wary eyes on Harry, who sat down on a pile of crisp fallen leaves. Goyle moved a distance away and began to march back and forth like a sentry on a castle wall.

His hands were already unbound and he figured he could escape anytime he wanted to. As of now, this has been most entertaining and he decided to stick around for a couple of laughs and something else.

Harry relaxed his head against the tree trunk, closed his eyes, and let the steady methodical sound Goyle's marching lull him to sleep.

He found his thoughts drifting to Malfoy's flushed face and wondered how far that blush really goes.

TBC
- 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

Fate