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Hollowed	By : dirtydarella Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Beta'd by the fantastic tari_sue .

Comment responses:

thrnbrooke: Yay, next chapter. ^_^

Dezra: Yes, even when Draco tries his best, that spoiled little inner child still comes out to play sometimes. :)

linagabriev: Lol, it�s okay if you call Draco cute. One of my greater challenges is to make sure I don�t go all sappy and write Draco as just this cute little ball of fluff. (Although sometimes I�m REALLY tempted to. Harry too. ^_^).
I�ll try and be quick about my updates, my goal is one a week, but sometimes school gets in the way. :)

Angel: Yay, I�m so glad you enjoy this!
I hope you enjoy your newfound enthusiasm back into the Harry/Draco fandom. ^_^

hieisdragoness18: Yes, let�s hope Draco wises up in the future so he won�t have to rely on accidents for kisses. :D

Sapphire: Thanks so much. I always pictured Draco a little unsure of himself, but being too proud to admit it even to himself. And me thinks the kiss might awaken something in Harry on a subconscious level... hopefully. ;)

Jilliane: No worries dear, and the same from me to you!
Hopefully Ron and Hermione will find something to distract them. And Hopefully they�ll be something between Harry and Draco that they�ll need to be distracted from. ^_^

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It was dark as he moved through Potter's room, but it didn't seem to hinder him in any way.

“Draco?” a deep, sleep-ridden voice muttered. Wha- what are you doing here?”

“Shh,” he said, crawling onto the brunette's bed. “I'm here to properly thank you for giving me such a wonderful gift.” He lifted up his wand for emphasis and as a result of his arm movement, the red silk robe he was wearing slipped down his shoulder, revealing more of his pale body to Harry. The brunette sat up fully, looking over him with appreciative green eyes. When Harry licked his lips slowly Draco couldn't hold back his smirk.

It was almost like an out-of-body experience watching his hands move slowly up Harry's bare chest, the warmth and firmness of it fully felt in his palms. His right hand paused over the brunette's racing heart, feeling the excited pulse running into his own body where they connected. Slowly, he leaned down to place a kiss on that spot, smiling when the rhythm skipped a beat.

“Draco,” Harry whispered in a heated voice, “I've waited ages for this.”

At that moment, it was just like the romance novel the blond had been reading. Harry looked up at him with such passion in his eyes, the position of his body just screaming for Draco to do whatever naughty things his heart desired. He leaned down once again, this time his lips closing around a nipple. When his tongue swirled around the hardening nub, he relished in the way Harry moaned, arching his back to get closer to Draco's mouth. He pulled at the hardening flesh with his teeth, teasing it again and again with quick flicks of his tongue before moving on to the other.

As the brunette continued to make the most erotic, throaty noises in the world, Draco moved upwards to lavish attention to any bare skin he could. He nipped at Harry's collarbone as his hands moved up the heated flesh, touching his jaw softly, tenderly. He'd always imagined Harry would be just like this � submissive to his touch, responsive to every stimulus he had to offer.

His mouth made it's way up to the brunette's neck, kissing and licking. A surge of joy pulsed through his body at every appreciative moan that buzzed against his lips. When he reached another pulse point, just as rapid as the first, he smiled to himself and began to suck and tongue and do anything and everything in his power to heighten Harry's pleasure.

“Draco,” the brunette moaned, lolling his head and revealing more of that deliciously tan neck. Draco made the mistake of sitting up to gaze at his handiwork, pleased with how hazy Harry's eyes appeared as he gazed up at him. However, it gave the green-eyed boy an opportunity to go on the offensive, pushing Draco down on the bed before the blond could react and pressing their lips together. Just like the stolen kiss in the hallway their lips didn't match up, and the pressure was all wrong, but the fact that it was Harry made the kiss seem like the best thing he'd ever felt.

His silk robe was parted and soon every inch of pale skin was being explored by confident hands, warm and teasing in their touch. Their kiss continued, unhurried and yet almost desperate in nature, slick, hot tongues exploring. A hand moved down, teasing at the trail of golden hair just below his navel. Oh, it was so close to where he needed Harry to touch, needed so badly he was going crazy and then, just as the tips of those tan fingers grazed his cock-

Draco woke up.

Draco. Woke. Up.

Draco woke up because of the most horrible screeching in the world. Draco woke up at the best damn part of the most fantastic wet dream he'd ever had. Who ever it was using the bathroom, and waking him up at a time like this would die a horrible and very painful death.

Grabbing his robe, he made a beeline for his door, adjusting the bulge in his pajama pants until it � hopefully � wasn't noticeable. Dragging on his cotton robe � he hadn't even ever owned a silk one, damn dream � he stomped out into the hall, feeling like he could call the dogs of hell to his command in his fury. The moment he saw a flash or red hair, he was sure a murderous aura had suddenly bloomed around him.

“WEASLEY!”

The aforementioned boy jumped like he'd just been struck by lightning, turning around with his wand drawn � handle side out. Frowning as he saw who had called his name, Weasley fixed it so that it was facing the correct way, then � very slowly, and with suspicious eyes � put it away. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Draco raised his wand, hand shaking with absolute fury.

“Err- what are you doing?” Soon-To-Be Dead Weasel said, his eyes growing large, drawing out his wand once again. It had been the best damn part of the dream and Weasley and his small bladder had taken that away from Draco.

“REPARO!” Draco shouted, his loud voice bouncing off the walls while a bolt of light shot out his wand.

There were a serious of cracking noises, like the sound of logs in a fire as the bowed door in front of them slowly straightened until it fit perfectly back into it's frame. The hinges whined as they too returned to their original form, the rust from them shedding off like powered cinnamon, dusting the floor with red. The magic was so thorough that even the small cracks on the wooden frame and chips in the paint on the surrounding walls began to repair themselves, creating an appearance of being brand new.

There was a moment of silence that passed while the stupid git in front of Draco just stood there, his mouth gaping while his eyes became wide as dinner plates. Any other time, perhaps, and his ego would have flared up at Weasley's stunned recognition of his superiority. He might have been more impressed himself at his skill had he not been so incredibly frustrated.

“Whoa,” Still-Going-To-Die Weasel said. “What kind of wand is that?”

Draco ground his teeth, forming the most scathing answer he could in his head.

“Malfoy, are you okay?” Weasley cocked his head contemplatively, his mouth twitching downwards. “Your eye's twitching and there's this little vain popping out in your neck.”

First he'd insult Weasel's pathetically poor family � that always got to him. Then he'd talk about the idiot's atrocious abilities when it came to wizardry, and possibly Quidditch. As a finishing remark, he'd throw out his nonexistent skills with women and tell him to go fuck Granger already because they both looked like lost puppies when they were in the other's company. Just as he opened his mouth to deliver what was quite possibly going to be his most passionate rant ever, the sound of footfalls drew his attention.

“What's going on out here?”

Both teens attention turned to the husky voice. Draco's jaw almost dropped when he saw a very groggy, half-naked Potter standing there. Who the bloody hell did Potter think he was, strolling out here with tussled hair and half lidded eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers when Draco was still all hot and bothered from his dream?

Harry looked from Ron to Malfoy and back, noticing that the blond teen resembled a rabid dog at the moment. It was only a matter of time that Ron and Malfoy would get into a fight, and Harry really couldn't blame his friend for fighting with the git. He'd recently had a crash course on just how selfish Malfoy was, and how completely impossible it was to be on any sort of companionable terms. He eyed Malfoy wearily.

In truth, Harry had never seen him look so flushed � it really stuck out on his pale complexion. Although, it just goes to show that the arse only had two expressions � arrogantly smug, and childishly furious. Okay three, if he counted the time he'd seen Malfoy crying, but that whole memory caused guilt to twist painfully in his chest, so he'd rather avoid thinking about it.

Regardless of Malfoy's impossible attitude, they all had to live here in some semblance of peace. Drawing in a fortifying breath, and really hoping he wouldn't have to play mediator now, or ever, Harry approached his red-haired friend.

“What's wrong?” he whispered, completely ignoring Malfoy.

“Huh?” Ron said, sounding distracted. “Oh, you missed it mate, Malfoy just fixed the bathroom, take a look.”

He stepped to the side, revealing to Harry a very impressive sight indeed. It looked as if someone had replaced the old door, including the wooden trim, and repainted the walls. He was so impressed that he almost whistled. There was a fleeting thought in the back of his mind that perhaps he could ask the blond to have a go at getting Mrs. Black's painting unstuck, but then he remembered that Malfoy was a complete arse. He wasn't going to go asking him for favors any time soon.

“I still gotta pee,” Ron announced after a beat, then without anything more, opened the new, silent door to the bathroom and shut it was a click. That just left Harry and the jerk.

“Alright then, Malfoy, pleasant dreams,” Harry said as politely as he could, turning away. He still didn't know what all the commotion had been about, but he'd ask Ron in the morning.

Draco didn't trust his voice at the moment, so he only sneered at Potter, following him with gray eyes as he went back down the hallway and into his room. The dream was fresh in his mind, and the visual of Harry's lean muscles shifting deliciously over the expanse of tan skin wasn't helping quell the arousal that thrummed through his body. He could still feel the other's phantom hand traveling down his chest and almost whimpered.

After slamming his door, it took Draco less than ten strokes before he was throwing his head back and muffling his cries of ecstasy by biting his knuckles.

***

“Malfoy,” Draco was startled to hear the feminine voice calling him. After his horribly disappointing night � full of three sadly unsatisfying wanks � Draco had stayed up reading and casting spells until the early hours of the morning. When hunger began to pain his stomach, he decided to run down to the kitchen before anyone woke for the day and grab a bite to eat.

He turned around to see a frizzy head of hair popping out of the room next to his, more tangled than he'd ever seen it before, and that was really saying something. Maybe he could offer the poor soul some hair maintenance advice, because whatever she was doing � which looked as if she stuck her tongue in the toaster every day � wasn't working for her. He hadn't even known there was someone living next to him she was so quite.

“What do you want, Granger?” he said, failing to hold back the edge in his words. Well he had every right to be annoyed, being sleep deprived and sexually frustrated and all.

She cleared her throat as a blush appeared on her cheeks. “It's great that you can cast magic on the bathroom door and all,” she said, crossing her arms. “But maybe you could try a silencing spell on your own room next time you decide to be so loud while doing....”

Her words were stopped as the blush deepened. Oh dear Merlin, why was Draco's life so horribly tragic? He grabbed her arm, pushing her into her room and shutting the door with a loud bang. There was no hesitation this time to cast a silencing charm.

“What did you hear?” he hissed, ignoring the way Granger was frowning at him with her wand flicking anxiously in her hand.

“I won't tell anyone, Malfoy, don't worry.”

Shit. Oh fucking hell, did that mean she had heard him moaning Potter's name? Now would be a good time for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

“What, you think I'm going to trust you,” he said angrily. Certainly Granger wouldn't have brought it up unless she wanted something from him.

“Do you really have a choice?”

He gritted his teeth and, for the first time, realized he still had a strangle hold on her wrist. Releasing it as if he had just been burned, he took a step back and reigned in all emotions, once again forming an expressionless mask over his features.

“Fine. What is it that you want then?”

She sighed and took a step back until she could sit down on her bed. A shadow of guilt passed over him when she began to gently rub the abused wrist. “I don't want anything. I really didn't mean anything when I told you, I was only trying to prevent others from hearing in the future.”

That was a lie. Who wouldn't use information like that in their favor? He just wasn't used to dealing with Gryffindors, so it was hard to tell what she was really after, what games she was playing. If she ran to Potter with this type of information, he'd probably be so disturbed that he'd kick the blond out on his arse.

“Name your price,” he growled, feeling the annoyance bubbling under his skin.

She sat on the bed, unmoving. Her eyes peered over to him in slow, rolling movements, as if she was studying some sort of mystical creature she had never seen before. Draco stood under the weight of that gaze and waited. He'd dealt with blackmail threats before, and never in his life had he lost in a battle of wits when it came to these types of situations, but Granger having his real wand complicated things. Not to mention, his current position was nothing like the ones he'd held in the past.

“I have no price,” she said eventually, sounding extremely loud in the room after such a long bought of silence. “But if you'd really feel better about me asking something from you, then I will.”

He nodded to indicate for her to continue.

“I have my own research, and I'm struggling to find all the time necessary to study anti-curses, remedies, healing potions and spells, and any other type of medical magic. If I bring books by later, will you study them?”

Draco's spine straightened. Granger's request didn't really sound like a blackmail demand, but of course, he was dealing with a Gryffindor here. He did find a pinch of comfort in the fact that she was treating this in a more familiar way.

Forming the most charming smile he could, he held out his hand and smiled.

“It's a deal then.”

***

Surely anyone who looked upon Draco would have thought him mad. Hell, he thought he was mad. It didn't help that he kept finding his current task positively laughable that he was in fact laughing to himself every once in a while. He could only imagine what it would be like to walk to through the house, hearing his disembodied laughter dancing down the hallways. Although, in reality, he was hoping that the noise wasn't carrying itself to the upper levels, considering how late it was.

It had started with the most ridiculous desire to try and do something that might get him back in Harry's good graces. For some reason, some bizarre part of his mind � probably a childhood complex that had formed over the years � had decided to try and bake him fresh cookies. Everyone liked cookies, right? He had seen Mother Weasley cooking, so he was a little more familiar with the way all muggle stuff in the kitchen worked. Theoretically.

Draco had always been good at school, and he prided himself for his quick learning abilities. He was sure that as long as he followed the book which he had selected a sugar cookie recipe from, that things would go smoothly. Unfortunately, no matter all his positive thinking, things turned disastrous.

After having a hard time finding the 'flour', he discovered it was impossible to tear open with his own hands, so he cast a slicing charm to open it. He realized that might not have been the best idea in the world when a cloud of powder rained all around him.

Okay, fine, he told himself not to get deterred and that he'd clean the mess later. He scrapped the necessary amount off the counter and into the measuring cups before transferring it to the bowl.

The next hassle occurred when pouring out the fourth cup of milk. Apparently, he'd been having too much fun using magic outside his room again that common sense was currently taking a nap. When he accioed the milk, he had caught the cartoon, only to have it explode in his too tight grip.

So now here he was, covered head to toe in flour and milk. Fantastic. He could only hope this would wash out without any problems. At least it didn't smell horrible.

This obviously wasn't working, perhaps he had been a little too ambitious with his recipe selection. He flipped a few pages until he came up with a new one entitled “deviled eggs”. Well, that certainly sounded appropriately wicked. This would be right up his alley. Better yet, as he scanned the ingredients list and didn't see anything he was unfamiliar with, this looked easy.

He pulled out the eggs � knowing that they were kept in the cold box, thanks to seeing Mother Weasley use them � and set them on the counter. As Mrs. Weasel had done, he cracked them all into a bowl, grimacing every time he got any sticky slime on his fingers. Okay, step one of the book said the eggs had to be boiled. Huh, that was weird. He frowned thoughtfully as he looked down into the pile of eggs in his bowl. Well, he didn't know how muggles did it, perhaps it was similar to boiling a cauldron, but that seemed like a lot of hassle when he knew a perfectly good boiling hex. Yes, cooking wasn't so hard after all, at least he didn't have to worry about magic ruining the integrity of ingredients. With almost a lazy flick of his wrist, he cast the boiling hex and waited.

For about three seconds.

In the blink of an eye, scalding hot egg bits were flying through the air like a swarm of angry bees. Letting out a shriek, Draco threw up a protego shield and made a dive under the table. He took it back, cooking was hard, and he was pretty sure it was going to be the death of him at this rate. He gritted his teeth and fisted both hands in his hair as the frustration of the situation boiled in his blood.

To finish his perfect first try at cooking off, not a second had past after the sound of splatter had stopped before Draco heard thumping down the stairs. Who the hell was up at this hour? Well, alright, he could admit that all the noise he was making could have possibly been a reason someone had woken up. When the bloody hell was he going to learn his lesson about silencing charms?

It was just as he was crawling out from underneath the table that Potter came charging in with his wand in hand like the stupid Gryffindor he was. All he was missing was the raging wind and the golden backlight to set the mood for his hero like entry.

Harry, upon entering the kitchen, had but a single though that entered his head: What the fuck. It looked like there had been a food fight; had Kreacher finally snapped? There was powder all over the counters and floors, milk dripping down a set of drawers and some sort of mystery goo had speckled every surface, even the ceiling. He was so distracted taking the mess that when a shift of movement appeared in his peripheral vision, he was shooting off a stupefy before he even knew his arm had risen.

“Shit,” he cursed, kneeling down next to Malfoy's limp body. What the hell had the blond been doing? He shifted Malfoy so he was on his back, the action causing something wooden to clatter on the kitchen tiles, recognized as the wand he had been given. Was Malfoy practicing hexes on the food?

With a furrowed brow, Harry prepared to revive the blond, but curiosity kept his hand from performing the necessary flicks. He'd never seen Malfoy look so peaceful before. With relaxed features, his face wasn't quite so... malicious. There was no mask, cracked or not, currently covering his face � leaving only the raw innocence that lay behind it. In fact, with his fine skin, pink lips, and liquid silk blond hair he looked almost like a character right out of a renaissance painting. Subconsciously, Harry's hand reached out and he rubbed away a smudge of flour on the blond's cheek.

His eyes traveled down to Malfoy's arched neck, long and elegant. Its shapeliness showed off the arteries underneath, creating smooth dips of skin that looked, in some curious way, appealing. Underneath the dark robes Harry could just barely see a flash of collarbone peaking out, and he had an urge to pull the robe open more to see what else was being hidden under the sturdy fabric. There was just the smallest stirring of warmth in his gut at the thought.

He quite liked that he was able to see, even if for the most briefest of moments, how ... agreeable the other wizard could look. Shaking his thoughts out of his head, Harry raised his wand once more and cast ennervate hoping Malfoy wouldn't be too enraged to handle.

-TBC
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