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Behind the Green Door	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6279 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Part I
- 2-Part II
- 3-Part III
- 4-Part IV
- 5-Part V
- 6-Part VI
- 7-Part VII
- 3
- 4
- 5
Part IV

�Checkmate.�
�Bugger,� Potter mutters, sighing deeply and stretching out on his bed. The muscles on his back flex beautifully, and I have to look away. �Why are we still playing chess?� he asks, capturing my gaze again.
I scoff. �Because you wouldn�t play mahjong.�
�Hah!� Potter�s laugh is a short bark that seems to bounce off the walls in the room. �The rules are impossible! How can one possibly distinguish which sodding tile is a sheung and which one is a dragon?�
�Peasant,� I snort under my breath, picking up my book.
�Ponce.�
�Wanker.�
�Prick.� Potter huffs, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. I don�t have to look at him to know that he is wearing that cheeky grin I seem to see so often these days.

It has been two weeks. Two weeks of playing chess and quarrelling in a dungeon that seems to be getting colder by the minute. Two weeks of never speaking of what I prefer to call �the incident�.
And yet, each time I think of it, I am struck by a perplexing mixture of feelings of both impossible arousal and wanting to AK myself just to stop myself from remembering.
Therefore, I make sure not to think about it. Ever. A mission made significantly harder by Potter�s daily presence.

******
�Fuck, it�s getting cold in here!�
I look over at Potter upon entering the dungeon in the morning. The boy has pulled his knees up to his chest and is rubbing his shoulders to create friction and warmth. I can admit to the cold, as my breath seems to create vapour in the air. And it is only October.
They seem to have given Potter a thicker quilt though. A horrendous, orange one someone must have picked out just because they knew that the colour would annoy me endlessly. A shrill colour that, wrapped around Potter�s shoulders, sees to make the pigment of his eyes even more piercing.
�I applaud you for surviving in the Slytherin dungeons in the winter, it�s fucking freezing in here!� Potter breathes into the palms of his hands, pulling the quilt tighter around himself.
�Relax,� I snort, taking a seat in the chair as usual. �It�s only this cold in the morning; it�ll warm up in an hour or two.�
Potter directs a death glare my way. �Easy for you to say. I couldn�t sleep half the night because it was so cold that my clothes froze into place. I had to keep moving all night just to prevent it!�
I huff with mild amusement, and see a glint of satisfaction in Potter�s eyes. He grins at me, and I have to fight myself as to not return the expression. Potter�s smile fades, but he doesn�t look away. Those green, cutting eyes seem to pierce right through me, and I can impossibly turn away. The air turns suddenly thick, loaded with electricity, and all I see are those emerald flames.
�Draco!�
My breath gets caught in my throat and I jump in my seat as Father enters the dungeon.
�Yes, Father?� I ask as calmly as I manage. Lucius looks unnervingly tense, and that in turn makes me anxious.
�The Dark Lord wants to see you,� he says, gesturing towards the door. I can only nod stiffly, rising from my chair and making my way to the door, trying to ignore the goose bumps appearing all over my body. Being summoned to the Dark Lord� that can�t be a good sign. But what can I have done wrong, I haven�t been doing anything for the past month!
My shaking legs are barely able to carry me up the stairs, and it is all I can do to try and breathe calmly as I make my way to the Great room.

�Ah young Mr Malfoy!� the Dark Lord exclaims, as if surprised to see me. �How delightful of you to join us.�
�Of course, my Lord,� I state, pleased to find that my voice shows no sign of my fear. Steadily I walk forth, bowing before my master. �What can I do for you?�
The Dark Lord smiles, or at least his face twists into something resembling a smile. His long white fingers are caressing the back of his great snake, draped over the back of his armchair. �I was only wondering how our prisoner is doing,� the snakelike man replies lightly, drawing amused chuckles from the other Death Eaters due to the mentioning of the famous prisoner.
I force a malicious grin onto my face. �He is fairing as adequately as can be expected, though I imagine my company doesn�t please him much,� I drawl, gaining an amused leer from the Dark Lord.
He nods approvingly. �Good. I am pleased to hear that you are managing your task so well, young Mr Malfoy,� the Dark Lord states, eying me intently. �That is more than what I can say of your father.�
The Dark Lord doesn�t elaborate, and I am uncertain if I want him to. The words he has spoken are enough to bring shivers down my back. I hear someone draw on a quick breath behind my back, and turn around to regard my mother�s shaken features.
The Dark Lord chuckles, getting up from his seat and pacing back and forth before me. �You see, Draco, your father has been something of a disappointment lately. Of course, if you manage to keep up your good work, you won�t have to worry about Lucius� failures being taken out on you and your beloved mother.�
�Thank you, my Lord,� is all I can say, bowing as I cast as sideward glance at my agitated mother. I can only imagine what Father has done to enrage the Dark Lord, explanations will most likely be scarce.
�Go now, young Mr Malfoy. I have other matters to take care of,� the Dark Lord mutters, gesturing offhandedly for me to take my leave.
�As you wish, my Lord,� I respond, desperate to keep my voice steady. Bowing deeply again, I back away towards the door.
Only as the door closes behind me that the overwhelming terror, wrath, and desperation washes over me. I hurry down the stairs to the dungeons, trying for my life to stop myself from crying, screaming or swearing out loud.
�Oh good, you�re back,� Father states as I stumble into the dungeon. I try to analyse his features, but he shows no sign of the fear I would expect. I despise him endlessly for keeping this matter from me.
Father casts a last spiteful look at Potter, who responds with a vicious sneer, before pushing past me to the door. �I cannot comprehend how you remain sane in the constant company of that brat.� Lucius leers, closing the door behind him without waiting for a response.
�Your father sure is a pleasant lad,� Potter mutters cynically, fists clenched around the bars, staring at the closed myrtle door.
�Shut up, Potter!� I spit out, dreadfully embarrassed over how broken my voice sounds. It�s all I can do to keep myself together right now, and Potter�s snide comments about my father do not help.
Potter raises a slightly astonished eyebrow at me �Well, you sure are in a lovely mood. Was the meeting with Voldemort that enjoyable?�
And I snap.
�Shut the fuck up!� I roar, taking two quick strides over to the cell and delivering a punch directly between Potter�s eyes.
Potter flies backwards, landing on his back on the grimy floor with a loud groan. �What the fuck, Malfoy�?� he moans, gripping his head with his hand.
I have somehow already made my way into the cell and find myself aiming a kick straight at Potter�s ribcage. He yells, hastily getting up from the floor. I try to hit him again, but he dodges, instead coming around from the side and gripping my hands tightly.
�What the hell are you doing?� he asks, staring at me with wide eyes.
�I-I�� I stutter, uncertain of what to say, what to do. I try to shake my hands, break free from Potter�s grip, hit him, kick him, do something to rid myself from the panic I feel. But his hands are tightly wrapped around my wrist, and all I seem to be able to do is hyperventilate.
�I fucking hate you!� I spit at him, despising myself for my unsteady voice.
For some incomprehensible reason, Potter smiles. �I hate you too, Malfoy.�
And he leans in to kiss me. A soft, gentle, tentative kiss, nothing like the one we shared before. I try to break free, feeling my powers drawn out of me, but Potter holds on to me in an iron grip.

Suddenly I find myself pushed up against the wall. I gasp as the cold stones touch my back, and Potter takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. I moan at the wonderful sensation, completely forgetting that I should not be kissing Potter and absolutely not enjoying it.
Encouraged by my moan, Potter lets go of my other hand to be able to slide his arm around my back. Suddenly my hyperventilation is back, and I realise that I am getting a panic attack, trapped in the closed space between Potter and the wall. I push him away, and he breaks the kiss reluctantly.
My plan was to push Potter away and get out of here as fast as I can. But now he stands before me, breathing heavily and looking so forlorn, so dejected, so excruciatingly beautiful that I can only think of one thing to do.
�No one pushes a Malfoy against the wall,� I hiss, grabbing Potter by his upper arms and reversing our positions so that he now is the one with his back to the cold stones. To my surprise, Potter only chuckles. I grab him by the hair at the back of his head and pull his face to mine. Just to get rid of his smirk.
Starting slow, the kissing soon gets frenzied, and before I know it my hands are slithering under Potter�s sweater. He shudders as the chilly air comes in contact with his warm skin. I slide my nails up and down his bare back none too gently, thriving in the gasps and moans that escape Potter.
I can�t help the shiver that runs through me as Potter pushes his hands under my shirt. Before long he is unbuttoning it, and somehow my breath gets caught in my throat at the knowledge. To catch up with him I grab hold of the hem of his shirt and drag it violently over his head. Potter�s gasp echoes mine as the kiss is temporarily broken, and he hurries to reconnect our mouths, pushing my shirt down over my shoulders.
Wrapping my arms tightly around his chest, I pull Potter as close to me as humanly possible. I shudder as my bare skin meets his, our hips pressed closely together as I push him against the wall. Potter alters the position of his hips slightly, and I cannot help the gasp that escapes me as his erection is pressed against mine.
�Merlin!� he breathes against my mouth as my hand comes down to undo the buttons on his jeans, sliding inside to grab hold of his cock. With fumbling hands he reciprocates, and my breath convulses violently at the contact. The room soon fills with our laboured breaths echoing in the small space.
Potter�s breathy pants exhilarate dramatically in my ear, and the sound increases my arousal more than I ever though to be possible. It is no wonder neither of us last long. Potter comes first, spasming in my hand and shuddering against me, a guttural groan escaping him. I can�t control myself any longer and I, too, come, jerking violently, my heart fluttering irregularly as I bite down on Potter�s shoulder to keep from shouting out. Potter�s legs seem to give in, and he slides down onto the floor, pulling me with him. We remain there, me straddled over him as he leans back against the wall. He throws his head back and stares at the ceiling as he lets his breath even out.
�Wow,� he breathes out.
�Yeah-� I begin, just as breathless, when I look into Potter�s emerald eyes and it suddenly dawns on me what I have done. Where I have done it. And most importantly, whom I have done it with.
Bugger.
Within the time span of five seconds I have pulled on my shirt, grabbed my wand, jumped off of Potter and out through the cell door, and slammed it shut behind me. The only objection Potter has time for is a vague �Wha-?�.
Safe and clear outside the cell I lean back and slide down against the wall. I draw my knees to my chest and lean my forehead down against them. �Fuuuuuuck!�
I sit like that for I don�t know how long. For once, Potter says nothing. I hear him moving around for a while, but he soon quiets down altogether. When the silence grows too disconcerting, I look up to find him sitting knees crossed directly behind the bars, looking straight at me. I am pleased to find he has put his sweater back on. It takes great courage from me to be able to look Potter in the eye.
Potter takes a deep breath. �Are we going to talk about this?�
�No,� I blurt out, already regretting it when I realise it actually is the right answer.
�Don�t be an idiot, Malfoy,� Potter spits, his anguish prominent behind his relatively collected words. �We have to-�
�No, no, no!� I feel myself starting to hyperventilate again. �There is nothing to talk about,� I try to sound convincing as I crawl up from the floor and begin to button my shirt with unsteady fingers. �I was angry, and in the need for� something, and you were there. That�s it! That�s all there is to it.�
I barely manage to look at Potter, and when I do I immediately regret it. He is looking up at me, hurt and distressed and knowing, knowing that I am lying. And the worst part is that I myself know it better than anyone.
All the more reason to make this perfectly clear to Potter. And to remind myself.
I take a deep breath. �Potter, you�re a prisoner. I am your guard. Don�t you forget that.�
I have already turned away when I hear his broken voice:
�Do you actually think I could?�

End of part IV
- 3
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- 5
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Behind the Green Door