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Wand Light	By : stacygalore Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4475 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I benefit financially from the complete desecration of J.K. Rowling's characters.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Wand Light

By Stacy Galore

Disclaimer: Based on
the works of J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer. I do not benefit financially
from the electronic distribution and archival of this story; nor do I own the
rights to the characters depicted therein – I just play with them.

Warnings: This story
contains material suitable for mature readers only, including strong language,
explicit sex, and graphic violence. As the introduction alludes, this story is
heavily laden with delicious slash (male homosexual relationships).

Chapter 4: Vanilla

Malfoy�s eyes were silver and shining brightly despite the
scarcity of light behind the curtains of Harry�s four-poster bed as if
illuminated by a fire within – a flame that burned for Harry. Malfoy�s
pale skin shone too, like the white moon, but no warmth radiated from it as it
should have. When Malfoy tenderly placed his long, slender fingers around
Harry�s neck, they were ice cold. Harry shivered, not from Draco�s frigid
touch, but from the delicious electric surge that it sent up his spine. The
deadly combination of Malfoy�s stare and his caress could have completely
undone Harry on their own, but with the addition of Draco�s fluidly sensual
voice, it was his ultimate destruction. �I�m going to fuck you so hard,
Potter.�

Harry awoke in the middle of the night drenched in his own
sweat and semen. Fucking hell. The
last time he had a wet dream like that, he was thirteen, and it most certainly
wasn�t about a boy.

Harry prayed that Malfoy wouldn�t show up to class on Monday,
but if he was well enough for quidditch trials, he was well enough to return to
class. Sure enough, the boy was present in their first-hour class, but
thankfully paid no mind to Harry. When Malfoy wasn�t in the Great Hall for
lunch, Harry hoped that his illness had relapsed. This thought was slightly
comforting as he began to dread Herbology. Between the sexual fantasies, the
nocturnal emissions, and the incident above the quidditch pitch, he had a lot
to be secretly embarrassed about. Harry didn�t particularly want to face his
personal savior and the object of his strange new desires. He purposely
arrived at the greenhouse a bit late, hoping his partner was absent. The first
thing he spotted as he entered through the rear door of the glass building was
the back of Malfoy�s white-blonde head. Shit.

He slowly took off his robe, clandestinely sniffed his
under-arm, and decided his scent was not offensive. He hung his robe on the
back of his stool and sat down quietly – as if being inconspicuous was actually
going to prevent Malfoy from talking to his Herbology partner. Malfoy turned
to Harry, completely at ease, and spoke casually without the usual malice.
�Our flitterbloom sprouts are looking well.� As friendly as his words were, it
disturbed Harry greatly. Things were far from normal if Malfoy wasn�t sneering
and hurling a spiteful insult at him.

�Our flitterbloom
sprouts?� asked Harry, bitterly. Malfoy had some nerve to leave in the middle
of class, disappear for a whole week and then claim the fruits of Harry�s hard
labor for himself. The little pots sitting on the workbench in front of Malfoy
had tiny green tendrils peeking out of the soil, wriggling like verdant worms.
�My flitterbloom sprouts look
great. Yours didn�t germinate.�

�Didn�t you water them?� asked Malfoy with a boyish tinge of
disappointment in his voice.

�No,� he answered a little more defensively than was
necessary. Harry made the mistake of looking at the other boy in the face and
saw Malfoy�s faint eyebrows furrow with hurt. He couldn�t help but feel guilty
and was about to apologize, then remembered it was Malfoy – that
Slytherin wasn�t going to get credit for slacking off. �You weren�t here,�
said Harry with a scowl.

�I thought we were partners,� Malfoy said with an irresistibly
pathetic pout.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Had he entered an
alternate universe in which Malfoy actually acknowledged a partnership between
two sworn enemies without a fight? Hadn�t Malfoy been so sickened by the
thought of it a week ago that he lost house points whilst making his
displeasure known to the entire class? Who the hell was this amiable (and
attractive) blond boy sitting next to Harry? It certainly could not have been
Draco Malfoy. Because in the real world, Malfoy would have rather seen his
flitterbloom seeds die then let �Saint Potter� put his �filthy� Gryffindor
hands on them.

Professor Sprout walked around the greenhouse assessing the
seedlings of each pair. When she reached Harry and Malfoy, she shook her head.
�Mr. Potter, this is just as much an exercise in working with others as it is
a lesson on flitterbloom rearing. Mr. Malfoy�s absence should not have had any
bearing on your commitment to the project. I�m afraid I�ll have to detract
five points from Gryffindor.�

Malfoy�s grin was so self-satisfied and smug that Harry
could have hexed his face off right then and there, losing five hundred points
for Gryffindor. Was this Malfoy�s underhanded plot all along? What the boy
said next really threw Harry for a loop. �That�s OK, Professor. I can make up
the work after class. I�m sure I can get a few more seeds to germinate this
week,� said Malfoy, sweetly, with a saccharine smile to match.

Harry could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across
the Herbology teacher�s cheeks as she giggled coyly. �Of course, Mr. Malfoy.
How very good of you. I�ll retract the point deduction from Gryffindor and
award twenty points to Slytherin.�

�You�ll help me, won�t you Harry?� said Malfoy with the same
convincingly gorgeous smile and persuasive, honey-toned voice.

What the fuck is going on here! Harry surely must have been dreaming. Did Malfoy
just offer to do more work? Did
Malfoy just help Gryffindor earn
back points? Did Malfoy just openly ask him for assistance and address him as Harry? His heart stopped from the shock and he gaped
unabashedly at the boy.

�Harry?� The word rolled off Malfoy�s tongue so easily and
lightly, it was as if they�d been best mates for ages. �You�ll stay and help,
right?�

He was so caught off-guard, all Harry could do was say
stiffly, �Erm, yeah.�

Malfoy beamed. That sly bastard was up to something. Harry
was sure of it. He spent the next few minutes brooding over what the other boy
could possibly be plotting, barely paying attention to Professor Sprout�s
lecture.

�As I mentioned last week, flitterbloom is almost identical
in appearance to a certain more notorious plant, but not nearly as dangerous.
Who can remember which plant I mean?� said Sprout from the front of the
greenhouse, pointing at two large bell jars on her workbench.

Harry faintly noticed a hand shoot up eagerly from the front
of the classroom. �Devil�s snare.�

�Right you are, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor.
And for another ten points, can somebody else tell me the key difference
between flitterbloom and devil�s snare?� Professor Sprout scanned the room.
From all the way in the back of the greenhouse, Harry could tell it pained
Hermione to keep from raising her hand. �Very well. Miss Granger, can you
tell us?�

�Of course, professor. Flitterbloom tendrils will wrap
themselves around inanimate objects only, much like a creeping vine. Whereas
devil�s snare will seek out, constrict, and extract the essence of other living
things, like an epiphytic plant.�

�Correct again, Granger. As you all can see from these two
specimens I have before me, one cannot differentiate the two just by looking at
them out of their natural habitat.

When encountering them in the wild, it is important to note
the substrate upon which the specimen lives. Is it creeping up a rock, or
around the trunk of a dying tree?

Of course, as saplings, it is almost impossible to tell the
two apart without a little careful experimentation. Even as young shoots, your
specimens exhibit the characteristic coiling ability.�

The professor lifted the bell jars off the plants. She took
a quill and teased at one of the small plants and declared, �Devil�s snare,�
after the plant wiggled but did nothing else. She baited the quill around the
other plant and it reached out its leafy tendrils to coil around the quill.
�Flitterbloom.� She unwrapped the plant, loosening her quill.

�You see, it wants nothing to do with me. Now you try it.
Find your strongest and most promising sprouts by doing a bit of experimenting
yourselves. The weaklings will show very little inclination to coil –
you can pull those out.�

The room was buzzing with students excited to tease their
baby plants with any inanimate object they could find. Harry turned his back
on Malfoy and distractedly baited some of the saplings with his quill while
Malfoy did the same.

�Erm, Harry, I think we�ve got devil�s snare instead of
flitterbloom,� said Malfoy.

Harry turned around. One of the flitterbloom tendrils was
coiling around Malfoy�s lithe finger. �You�re full of shit,� said Harry. He
pointed his quill at another tendril from the same plant and it coiled around
the tip.

Malfoy used the tip of his wand to unwrap the tendril from
his finger. Then, with his index finger, he stroked the shoot of another
sapling in an entirely separate pot and the plant coiled around him too. Maybe
Malfoy wasn�t full of shit after all. �Weird, eh?�

�Yeah. . . Weird,� concurred Harry as he watched another
offshoot from the same plant wrap around his wand. �Hey, Hermione, come here
for a sec,� he called across the room. She walked over and exchanged scathing
looks with Malfoy. �Did you say flitterbloom is attracted to both inanimate objects and living things?�

Hermione rolled her eyes. �No, Harry. I clearly said-�

�I heard exactly what the mud-blood said. Devil�s snare is
attracted to living things. Flitterbloom is attracted to non-living things.
I�m not stupid. I don�t need to be told twice,� Malfoy said in a huff, more
directed towards Hermione than Harry. �We must have some kind of mutant
hybrid.�

�What? Let me see that,� she said skeptically as she
reached for one of the pots. She ran her finger up the writhing stalk of the
plant, but it only withered away, as if tickled. �Are you trying to put one on
us, Malfoy? Because it isn�t funny in the slightest. You�re just wasting
precious class time.�

�Would you quit blathering on, Granger, and look at this?�
Malfoy spat. He did the same exact thing Hermione did to the same exact plant
and its tendrils wrapped themselves lovingly around his finger. �I told you.�

Despite the hard evidence in front of her, Hermione scoffed,
�Well, that�s impossible. Unless you�re dead, but quite unfortunately, you are
not.�

�Anything�s possible. It�s what we wizards like to call
magic,� Malfoy replied condescendingly.

Hermione huffed with her arms crossed over her chest and
glared at the blond boy whilst talking to Harry. �If you need help thinning
out your flitterblooms, Harry, I�m sure my partner can manage on her own for a
few minutes.�

Harry sighed, �No, I�ll be ok.� Hermione walked away,
looking wearily over her shoulder at Harry�s partner.

Malfoy smirked and drawled, �I�m so damn irresistible, even
the bloody flitterblooms can�t keep themselves off me. Wouldn�t you agree,
Harry?� He put special emphasis on speaking Harry�s name, sensually drawing
out the �h� and suggestively raising an eyebrow.

In all his life, Harry had never heard anyone speak his name
with such lust. He blushed and crouched over his flitterbloom, distractedly
picking out little stalks at random, while fighting the resurgence of a
particular image in his mind. Though he somehow managed to not picture Malfoy
with his trousers down, the voice inside his head rang as clearly as he�d heard
it in his dream, I�m going to fuck you so hard, Potter, drawing out the words so hungrily, making his
subconscious sigh a wanton yes.

Malfoy chuckled softly to himself. �Hmm. I thought so.�

�What did you say?� asked Harry defensively, having been
snapped out of his Malfoy daydream by the real Malfoy.

�I said, I�m so damn irresistible, even-�

Harry cut him off, �No, not that. The other thing.�

Malfoy quickly rattled-off a recap of the conversation,
gesturing with his hands back and forth. �I said, wouldn�t you agree, and you
said, yes, and I said, I thought so.�

�But I didn�t.� Harry was positive that he didn�t utter the
word �yes� out loud. He thought it. But he definitely didn�t say it out loud.

�Oh, but you did,� said Malfoy smugly, �I heard you say yes.
And you said it seriously too. Like you really, really meant it.� The boy was gloating and giving Harry
that god damned sexy smirk again.

�No I didn�t,� insisted Harry, with very little conviction.

�Whatever, Potter,� he sighed haughtily, rolling his silver
eyes. �I�m not a fucking mind-reader. I heard you. You agreed.�

Oh, so now he was Potter again? �You�ve lost it, Malfoy.
Ever since the start of term, you�ve been acting like you�ve gone mental. Just
stop whatever shit you�re trying to pull because I�m not in the fucking mood
for it,� Harry hissed through gritted teeth.

�Temper, temper,� Malfoy wagged his finger at Harry
disapprovingly. Then his eyes turned a shade darker. �You�d better watch it,
Saint Potter, or you�ll give yourself an aneurism and die before you get the
chance to save the wizarding world.�

Mr. Arsehole Malfoy was back with a vengeance. Thank Merlin
for that! Now Harry knew he was in the correct universe. He was actually
happy to spar with the boy, for a day without Malfoy being a whiny bitch wasn�t
much of a day at all.

�Sod off, Malfoy,� Harry said dismissively.

�By the way, do you bathe in a vat of vanilla ice cream or
something?� Malfoy asked, highly offended, �You fucking reek of it, Potter.
Every god damn day. It makes me so god damned hungry every fucking time I�m
near you.� He spoke as if Harry were purposely making his life a living hell
just by smelling like something so benign as vanilla.

�Excuse me?� Harry asked, completely affronted. He noticed
Malfoy�s eyes had gone from silver to dark grey. �It isn�t vanilla. It�s
lavender.�

Malfoy asked rhetorically with a condescending sneer,
�Didn�t anybody ever tell you how gay it is for boys to wear perfume?�

�I�m not wearing perfume,�
Harry spat indignantly, �It�s soap. The same soap everybody uses in the
Gryffindor baths.�

�Merlin�s balls, it makes me want to . . . to, erm. . .�
Malfoy screwed up his face, bit his bottom lip, and then threw his hands up
with frustration. �Fucking hell, I don�t even want to think about what it makes
me want to do. Just stop using whatever it is that you slather yourself with.
I can�t work with you like this.�

Mental – completely and utterly mental, Harry thought. Malfoy was out of his bloody mind.
He�d crossed that threshold of intriguing Harry and gone into the realm of
scaring him. Harry moved his stool further away from the other boy and said
cautiously, �All right then. I guess we don�t really have to make up the work
after class,� hoping that Malfoy would agree.

But he didn�t, surprisingly. Malfoy moved his stool closer
to Harry�s and said, �No. No, we should. We really should work on our
project.� All this we business was
really frightening Harry – Malfoy was definitely not right in the head if
he was grouping himself with Harry in the same pronoun. �My last class ends at
three. If you�re free, we should come back to the greenhouse. Then we could
germinate a whole new crop of flitterblooms – ours is obviously
genetically impure.� He said the last words as if this fact disgusted him as
much as �mud-bloods� did.

Harry was reluctant to meet Malfoy alone – it wasn�t
just the fear of a subversive plot, but a reluctance to be around him in the
absence of others to buffer the tension between them. It would be awkward, to
say the least. But if Harry was good at anything, it was his uncanny ability
to get himself into brutally awkward situations despite himself. He said
reluctantly, �Yeah, OK. But make it four o�clock. And you�d better eat
something beforehand. I don�t want you freaking out on me again.�

After Harry�s last hour of classes, he rushed back to the
Gryffindor dormitories and took a long bath, foregoing soap all together,
letting the near-boiling water practically sterilize his skin. Then he went to
the greenhouse and prayed for the best. Malfoy was already there, preparing
little pots of soil, and said, �Good. You�re early,� as Harry opened the door.
He took off his robe and sweater so that he wouldn�t perspire in the hot
greenhouse and potentially set off another olfactory freak-out.

Malfoy sniffed. �Are you positive you don�t use anything
vanilla-scented on yourself?�

�Positive. Are you certain it�s vanilla that you smell?�

�Yes, I�m sure. Fortescue�s French vanilla ice cream is my
most favorite food in the entire world. And you smell exactly like that. Exactly.�

�Are you sure it�s me
you smell?�

�It�s definitely you. I smelled you coming.� Malfoy
smirked.

Harry was so disturbed by what Malfoy had just said that he
clumsily knocked over a row of pots, sending them crashing to the floor in a
mess of broken ceramic and soil. He crouched down to pick up the shards.

�What are you doing? Use your wand, stupid,� said Malfoy.

�I don�t know any cleaning spells,� admitted Harry.

Malfoy chuckled, �Actually, neither do I. Here, let me
help.� He bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the pot.

The jagged edge of one of the pottery shards cut Harry�s
palm as he was sweeping his hand over the floor. �Ouch. Shit,� he cursed. He
looked down at his hand and saw a small but deep gash oozing a slight rivulet
of blood. Harry thought he heard a low, quiet growl, and the next thing he
knew, Malfoy was tackling him.

Harry was flat on his back. Malfoy had pinned him down by
the wrists and was straddling him, glaring at him ravenously with steely eyes.
His blonde fringe fell over his pale face and he looked pained with some
unknown desire.

�What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?� Harry asked, staring
up at the boy with alarm.

�What the fuck are you
doing, Potter?� Malfoy asked with an angry, accusatory tone. �You�re driving
me fucking insane. You saunter in here, reeking like vanilla, and you make me
want to . . . to . . .�

�What? Spit it out. Do you want to vomit? Get some ice
cream? What?� Harry asked exasperatedly.

Malfoy�s eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered closed.
He sighed wantonly with that liquid gold voice, �I just want to fucking eat you,� then pressed his lips against Harry�s in a
hungry kiss.

Harry couldn�t help but fall into the kiss, welcoming the
other boy with his eager moans. Nobody had ever kissed him like that –
like Malfoy was indeed devouring him. The kiss was angry and spiteful, and at
the same time lustful - full of teeth and lashing tongues. There was something
very wrong and strange about the kiss, besides the fact that Harry was kissing
another boy. Everything about Malfoy was cold – his lips, the inside of
his mouth, his breath. Malfoy was still grasping both of Harry�s wrists
tightly and his hands felt like cold metal shackles. Though kissing Malfoy was
bizarre and utterly wrong, it felt so fucking good. Harry could feel Malfoy�s
erection through his trousers growing against his and he wanted to touch the
other boy so badly it was shameful. This was Draco Bloody Malfoy, the bane of
Harry�s life at school, and it was wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG! He could be kissing a Death Eater, somebody who was
helping Voldemort, somebody who ultimately wanted Harry dead.

�Let . . . go . . . of me,� Harry panted as he gasped for
air between kisses.

�No. If I let you go, you�ll make me stop.� Malfoy�s voice
was quivering and reflected the same shameful desire that Harry felt. He lay
atop Harry, motionless, with such pain in his dark grey eyes.

Harry gazed up at him, entranced by Malfoy�s exquisite face.
It was like looking up at a marble statue of a beautiful tragic hero from a
Grecian epic. And then Harry realized his heart ached from the thought of
ending this right now, the thought that he may never kiss those lovely, soft
lips ever again. �I don�t want you to stop,� whispered Harry, �I just want to
touch you.�

Malfoy eased his grip off of Harry�s wrists and slowly sat
up. Harry was breathless and panting, but Malfoy breathed easily – it
was embarrassing. Harry wished his eagerness wasn�t so obvious. But it was
impossible not to be completely
enthralled by Malfoy�s electric presence, impossible not to crave skin-to-skin contact. Harry cautiously
reached up and took Malfoy�s cheek in his quivering hand. His face felt
perfectly smooth, like cold, polished stone. Malfoy tenderly took Harry�s
hand, weaved his own fingers between Harry�s and turned his face to kiss the
underside of Harry�s wrist. Harry had forgotten about the cut on his palm and
saw that he�d left a smudge of blood on Malfoy�s cheek that contrasted starkly
against the boy�s pallor.

Malfoy closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath through
his slightly parted lips, still holding Harry�s wrist to his mouth. He
whispered, �Harry, you have no idea what you do to me.� He traced a line on
Harry�s wrist with the tip of his tongue and the sensation of his cool, wet
flesh against Harry�s skin was incredible. Malfoy licked Harry�s palm, right
over the cut, and the boy�s eyes flashed open, startling Harry with their
terrifying glow. He unceremoniously dropped Harry�s hand and grabbed fists
full of his sweater. Malfoy�s eyes shone with a thirst that was animalistic and
carnal as he groaned, �I need to have you right now.�

Harry heard Malfoy speak these words before, but to Katie
Bell. It cheapened the moment. Harry felt that Malfoy was using a standard
pickup line on him. Of course Harry wasn�t special. He was just another
conquest. What better trophy than snagging The Chosen One? Harry tried to
prise Malfoy�s hands off him. �No. I won�t be another notch in your belt.�

�Harry, please,� Malfoy moaned, �I�ve never wanted anyone so
badly in my life.�

�So you expect me to gladly bend over for you after one
kiss? Oh, and I�m straight, by the way. And I�m Harry Potter. And you�re
Draco Malfoy. And we hate each other, remember?�

�I can�t help how I feel,� Malfoy said, now breathing a
little more quickly. He subtly shifted himself and the substantial bulge in
his trousers brushed against Harry�s lap. He lowered himself onto Harry and
started kissing his neck. The sensations the other boy was eliciting were
overwhelming, threatening to tear away Harry�s apprehensions. �I need you,
Harry. It�s like my life depends on it, like I�ll die if I can�t have you.�

These words coming from Draco Malfoy�s lips, as delicious as
they sounded, could not possibly be true. Harry rolled the boy off of him and
said, his voice still quivering with unresolved desire, �No. I�m not an idiot.
This is the most blatantly obvious trap that�s ever been laid before me.� He
stood up and dusted himself off.

Malfoy got up and leaned over the workbench with a pathetic
look of ennui on his face, hunched over like his stomach hurt. �I know how it
appears. But I swear to Merlin, it�s how I really feel. Believe me Harry;
it�s as unfathomable to me as it is to you. And I fought these feelings from
the very beginning. If I had a choice, do you think I�d want to fall in love with my enemy?� Malfoy scrunched
his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if struggling with an
internal conflict.

Things were quickly becoming a soap-operatic farce, along
the lines of Mid-summer Night�s Dream.
Harry scoffed, �Love? Are you
kidding me? Don�t you think that�s a bit much? And rather sudden?�

Malfoy stood up, grasped Harry�s arms and stared him down
with his piercing eyes. Harry turned uncomfortably to look away, unwilling to
let the power of the other boy�s glare affect him again. Malfoy said with desperation
in his voice. �You�re right, Potter. I don�t know what kind of spell or what
kind of love potion you slipped me, but you�re killing me. That�s what you
wanted, isn�t it? It wasn�t good enough for you to be better than me at
everything. You just had to get your
payback for whatever I�d done to make you hate me so much. And you fucking
won. Again. Because Harry Potter always wins. I concede. So, for the love
of Merlin, stop now. Before I
kill myself. Or is that what you had intended?�

Harry was dumbfounded and stood silent with his mouth open.
�What?�

Malfoy was now quite angry and back to his usual spiteful
self. �You did something to me when you hid in my train compartment.�

Still quite flabbergasted, Harry stuttered, �N-n-no.�

Malfoy redirected his grasp to the front of Harry�s shirt,
pulling at it like he was rearing to fight. �Come off it, Potter. Why is it
that, out of the fucking blue, I think you�re the most beautiful thing in the
world? Why, in Merlin�s name, would I suddenly want to fuck your brains out?
And why the fuck would I fall in love
with you, Potter?� he spat out Harry�s surname like it was the
foulest word in the English language.

�I, erm, I don�t understand it myself,� Harry said meekly.
He was at a loss for words, stunned at everything Malfoy had confessed, and
secretly quite flattered.

�I don�t know whether to kick you in the face again, hex
you, or kiss you,� said Malfoy.

Harry felt the last option would cause the least pain and
said cautiously, bracing himself for the worst, �Erm, kiss me?�

�OK,� said Malfoy, in a comically abrupt change of mood.
Then Malfoy�s mouth was on Harry�s again, sending the most delightful rush
throughout his body.

Harry�s raging teen-age hormones were getting the best of
him and he didn�t care anymore if Malfoy was under a curse, influenced by a
potion, or simply delusional – it felt too damn good to stop.
Apparently, Malfoy was operating under the same pretext. Malfoy took Harry�s
face in his hands as he kissed him roughly, quite literally taking his breath
away. Harry wondered how Malfoy could kiss him for so long without needing to
breathe. He was getting light-headed, though he didn�t want to take his lips
off of the other boy. So he made a trail of kisses from Malfoy�s lips to his
ear, marveling at how cool his skin felt while Harry was working up a sweat.
Malfoy left wet, toothy, bruising kisses on Harry�s neck as he smoothed his
hands over the front of his sweater. Even through layers of fabric, Harry
wilted from his touch, moaning softly into Malfoy�s ear, licking the small,
fleshy lobe. Malfoy placed his hands on Harry�s hips and guided him backwards
until he met the workbench behind them. As they snogged frantically, Malfoy�s
fingers moved quickly and adeptly to unbuckle Harry�s belt and to unbutton his
trousers before he caught on to what was happening.

Harry recoiled and gasped, �What are you doing?� as he put
his hands on Malfoy�s to stop them from completely undoing his trousers.

�It�s OK, Harry,� he groaned into Harry�s neck. Malfoy�s
cold breath chilled him.

Harry stiffened with panic. �I don�t think I like where
this is going.�

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he smirked lasciviously and
purred, �Oh, you�ll like it Potter.� He swiftly unzipped Harry�s trousers.

Harry froze. The screaming voice of reason in the back of
his mind was getting louder, overriding the blinding effects of arousal.
Malfoy slowly dropped to his knees, slyly pulling Harry�s trousers down with
him. �I�m not ready for this,� said Harry, his voice cracking, as he yanked his
trousers back up.

�I beg to differ, Harry,� said Malfoy, gazing up at him
reverently, his fluidly sexual voice and his slate eyes working their magic on
Harry. He slid his hand up the inside of Harry�s leg until it reached his
crotch. He grazed the bulge in Harry�s trousers with his hand as he grasped
his inner thigh. �You�re undeniably hard for me.�

Malfoy was right. But Harry didn�t want things to escalate
any further. The kiss alone was difficult to process. Being a Gryffindor,
Harry wasn�t one to think things through thoroughly before acting. But the
consequences of what he�d already done were probably grave as it was, without
adding on . . . well, whatever Malfoy was planning on doing to him.
Furthermore, Harry wasn�t very experienced – the furthest he�d ever gone
was feeling up Cho in the Room of Requirement. Malfoy was the first boy he�d
kissed – he�d never been attracted to other boys before. That in and of
itself was too much for Harry to handle.

Harry slipped away between the workbench and Malfoy, and
then swiftly moved to the safety of the other side of the table. �This isn�t
right.�

Malfoy stood up and leaned over the workbench, resting
casually on his elbows, smiling at Harry amusedly. �Why�s that?�

�For starters, I think you�re a prat,� said Harry.

�Yeah, so what? I think you�re a twat. But that doesn�t
mean I don�t want to fuck you senseless,� replied Malfoy with a provocative
grin.

Harry tried not to let Malfoy�s last sentence register in
his head. But it had already taken immediate effect on his nether-regions,
threatening to, once again, overtake his logical mind and make him give in to
the boy with every inch of his sex-starved body. Calm down, Harry, and
focus, he said to himself. �I don�t trust
you.�

Malfoy looked hurt. �Harry, I know I�ve been a right evil
bastard to you in the past. But I saved your life the other day. I think you
could cut me a little bit of slack.�

�That makes me trust you even less.� Harry bombarded him
with questions, �Why did you lie about it to my team? Why won�t you admit that
you were watching me from the stands when I fell? Why are you being so shady
about how you got to me fast enough to save me from hitting the ground?�

Malfoy answered with another question. �Why can�t it be
enough that I saved you?�

Harry shook his head. He knew Malfoy wasn�t going to confess
anything. �It�s too weird – all of this.� Harry got up from the table
and started to put his sweater back on. �Look. Let�s just forget this
happened. Everything. And I do mean everything.� He kept his head down, knowing that if he let his eyes fall on
Malfoy, it would make him think twice. Harry took his robe and walked out,
leaving Malfoy sulking on the workbench.

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, he got
the impression that he was walking into a tense situation. Students were
sitting around in huddled groups with worried faces. Some girls were crying.
He spotted Ron and Hermione, who immediately ran up to him. �Harry, where have
you been? Dumbledore�s wants you for questioning,� said Hermione. �You�d
better go to his office straight away.�

�Questioning for what? What did I do?� asked Harry,
confused and a little nervous that he�d done something wrong. . . well, he had done something wrong. But maybe he�d done something
else.

Hermione answered in surprise, �Haven�t you heard? Katie
Bell�s gone missing. She hasn�t been seen since Friday evening.�

Harry�s stomach lurched as if he were punched in the
stomach. He felt incredibly guilty, so much that he began to panic internally.
�So, erm, why am I being questioned?�

Hermione replied, �Apparently, you�re one of the last people
she talked to. And Dumbledore wants to know if she told you she was going to
quidditch trials or not.�

�Erm, I don�t remember. I was talking to a bunch of people
from the team after classes on Friday. I know she didn�t tell me she wasn�t coming. But I don�t remember her telling me she was. I just assumed everybody was,� said Harry, trying
to un-fog his memory of that conversation, which was overshadowed by a more
stark memory of Katie Bell involving a certain blond Slytherin.

Hermione put a hand on Harry�s shoulder encouragingly,
�Well, try to remember. Think about it on the way to Dumbledore�s. Do you
want us to walk with you?�

Distractedly, Harry said, �No, that�s alright,� as he walked
away, deep in thought already. His immediate gut reaction was to not tell
Dumbledore about Katie and Malfoy. Part of his reasoning was selfish –
he really didn�t want Dumbledore to know that he was spying on the pair having
it off with each other while he was under the invisibility cloak. And part of
him, a completely irrational and biased part of him, wanted to protect Malfoy.
There had to be a good explanation. Maybe Malfoy left her in the Room of
Requirement and she couldn�t find her way back out. Maybe the shame of
shagging the epitome of Slytherin asshole-ness drove her into hiding. Harry
decided he wasn�t going to tell Dumbledore until he knew for sure for himself
that Malfoy was indeed responsible for her disappearance.

But how was he going to do that? If he asked Malfoy about
it, he�d have to admit that he was spying on him, and that was even more
humiliating than telling it to Dumbledore. Harry would just have to do a bit
of sleuthing. After talking briefly with Dumbledore, he looked for Malfoy on
the Marauder�s Map before heading to dinner. The boy wasn�t in the greenhouse
anymore, nor was he in the Great Hall. He wasn�t in the Slytherin Dungeon
either. Harry searched every inch of the map. Malfoy was nowhere to be found.

Author�s Note: Yeah,
yeah, yeah. I know there is a huge discrepancy between Wand Light and Twilight that probably has all the Twi-hards up in arms. I know Edward could
not hear Bella�s thoughts. But can Draco hear Harry�s? Maybe. Anyway, as
always, if you don�t review, I won�t write. A million thanks to my lovely
betas, Kyari, Sara, and John - I�m an insolent little Slytherin who doesn�t
always listen to what you have to say, but I appreciate it enormously. And
more thanks to everybody who reviewed previous chapters.
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