Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-CH8
- 9-CH9
- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-Ch25
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five
Harry didn't really know what to feel as Dumbledore sat, peering his twinkly eyes at where he was standing behind Draco, the man clearly not seeing him at all. Harry wasn't even sure he should be doing this. He had planned on not bothering Malfoy and not revealing he was actually still alive, for how short a time as that might be.
But once again, he had followed the prat, concerned with how listless he had seemed when landing after catching the snitch. Then he was yelling—and fuck, the crying—the fucking crying over Harry dying had been a nightmare and Harry could not help but reach out to the boy. Who the hell would have known Draco had so much depth hidden under his perfect hair and creamy skin? But he did, and it was just pouring out on the floor as the boy sobbed, and Harry held him.
And well, he had sounded a bit more than sad, hadn't he? Like maybe Malfoy had fucking missed Harry as more than just some classmate... like someone who might have had a crush... Maybe even someone who was saying Harry's name in the shower while touching himself.
It had felt good to hold another human being again. To feel such warmth again, against his skin. To smell flesh and feel the soft rhythm of breath, and the pulse of Draco's heart. Extra good, because it had been Malfoy. Soft hair, and such smooth skin, Harry had not wanted to move. Had wanted to stay there forever with Draco's breath warming his skin, and his tears drying between them.
There had been a problem with touching Draco, one Harry had noticed the other night when licking the boy. It was difficult to stop once having done it. He kept wanting to touch Draco again, to press against him, run his tongue over him. It was a problem Harry was currently struggling with while Draco and Dumbledore talked.
Malfoy was sipping a cup of tea, his hands having finally stopped their incessant shaking as he talked. The two of them had gotten through the preliminary stages of, 'Yes, Harry is alive. No I can't hear him. Yes, I can touch him, but no, it doesn't seem anyone else can.' It was a lot, and they were throwing around theories of why Draco could be tangible to Harry, but no one else could.
Draco was biting his lip, and Harry pressed his hand to the side of his pale face, the boy looking up and through him. “Ever since I was young, strange creatures have... I guess, you could say they're drawn to me.” Draco's eyes were back towards the Headmaster, looking anxious. “They aren't always friendly, and sometimes they're plain frightening. I had a pet when I was young. My parents said she was imaginary but she was real—that sounds crazy, I know.” Draco stopped, smacking his hand to his forehead, which Harry quickly pried off and held, twining their fingers together.
Draco stared at his hand for a long time, having lost his train of thought. Harry didn't know why he kept grabbing the boy quite so boldly, but Malfoy had yet to ask him to stop. Eyes blinking away, Draco continued. “I know it sounds crazy. But I wouldn't be here, putting my sanity in questions, if I wasn't certain that Potter was alive.”
“I don't think you're insane, Draco.” Dumbledore assured, while Draco looking doubtful. “I will have to speak with an old acquaintance of mine, then we can start from there. Do you know if this gift runs in your family? It would be a great help if you could give me as much information as you can on it. I believe it is the only clue we to have to what has happened to Harry.”
Harry watched as Draco's eyes widened and the boy's nostrils flared. Suddenly Malfoy was on his feet, pulling from Harry's hands. “You're going to call my mother, aren't you? Oh hell, she'll kill me... Shit, don't tell her it's for Potter! Please, just don't mention him.”
Stepping around the pacing boy, Harry rested on Dumbledore's magic infused desk, curious to why Draco looked so worried. Dumbledore spoke behind him, seemingly just as confused. “Mr. Malfoy, your mother has been clear with her loyalty for you. I don't believe she'll be upset.”
Draco snorted, his hand pulling mindlessly at his hair.”Right, because the woman that married my psycho father is totally not going to help get the boy he was hunting down killed, once its discovered he's alive.” Draco said it with such conviction, Harry gaped, at a loss for words. Draco's parents were clearly fucked up.
“Are you suggesting she would be a danger to Harry?” Dumbledore asked slowly, fingers bridging as he sat forward at his desk.
Draco nodded. “That's a nice way to put it. I doubt she would do anything outright, but she would damn quick tell anyone that can, and find a way to take him out while he's weak.”
“I hardly think that's a concern. No one but yourself can even touch him,” Dumbledore pointed out.
Taking a deep breath, Draco slowed his pacing, coming to stop in front of Dumbledore's desk and right next to Harry. The boy looked genuinely worried, as if he had to protect Harry from another fucked up relative that had it in for him. It was kind of sad.
“Listen, I know that this won't make sense,” Draco said solemnly, eyes full of concern. “There is something wrong with him. Something unstable in his life force sparking. I sensed it earlier, and I've seen it once, in another of those creatures... right before it died.” Draco looked around suddenly, turning to the back of his chair until Harry realized he was looking for him, and reached his hand out.
The boy was damn jumpy, Harry noticed, taking in Draco's flushed face as he stepped up and grabbed his other hand. “Potter, stay out of the Forbidden Forest while you're like this, okay? There are creatures out there. Dangerous. I don't know what they want, but they have stalked me before. In your condition, well, I think you should be careful.”
Harry wanted to ask how Draco knew all these things, knew it was him, knew he was sick, knew that the creatures were foe and not friends. But he couldn't. All he could do was raise Draco's hand to his head and nod to let him know he would comply.
Draco gave a sigh of relief, relaxing a bit. “Sir, my parents never believed me about my pet, or the creatures. I seriously doubt it would be worth risking Potter to ask.”
Dumbledore seemed more interested in Draco's hand seemingly resting in mid air on Harry's head. “Harry, can you show me just how tangible you are with him?”
Harry smirked while Draco gave a confused look. “Like what—damn it!” Draco scowled as Harry lifted him, the boy's hands flying to his shoulders to steady himself. “Potter, you could have warned me. Put me down.”
Harry refused, taking in Draco's stunning eyes as the boy haughtily blinked down in his general direction as Harry lifted him higher. “Shit... when did you get so strong?” Draco asked, sounding breathless again. Harry couldn't say, only that his magic and strength had both been monstrous when fighting Voldemort once in this realm. And that Draco's waist felt very warm where his hands were gripping, this time being very careful not to press against the boy and wreck havoc on the both of them. Harry glanced over, Dumbledore passing hands through him as Draco seemingly hovered in the air.
“Very interesting. It really does seem that all he can touch is you... Your robes aren't even bunched. Harry can you put him down and touch a spot we can see?”
Harry gently lowered Draco to the floor, not blind to the haze in the boy's beautiful eyes. Moving closer, he felt Draco stiffen, eyes following to where his breath hit his cheek. Harry carefully ruffled the blond hair, threading fingers in and raising it up. He didn't have to stand so close for this, but couldn't seem not to. It helped that Draco looked ridiculously cute with his hair a mess.
“Amazing... Yes, we have something here...” Dumbledore mussed, hands carefully touching Draco's hair, noting how it resisted being moved, but he could still press his hand through where Harry's hand should be. “I will send note to McVicar today. He has experience with other realities. I suspect that is what we're dealing with here, some sort of dimensional drift.”
Harry quickly moved Draco's head in a nodding motion, Draco smacking his hand in response. “Potter seems to agree, sir—Stop dragging me around.” Harry would have apologized but couldn't, so instead picked the now extremely irritated Malfoy up by his arms and placed him in front of Fawkes, moving Draco's hand to then point at the bird.
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again, moving towards his phoenix. “Yes, I think I'm beginning to understand. Can you touch Fawkes as well, Harry?”
Harry gently ruffled the sleeping bird's feathers across it's fluffy breast so they could all see. Draco was suddenly peering very close, oblivious to where Harry was, and Harry had that spark of danger again, one he thought would not go over well at all considering the situation.
“Harry, I know that the circumstances are a bit odd, but I can't help but recall seeing a lot of your friends out watching the game today,” Dumbledore said. “If Draco would be willing, I'd like to invite them up to see you... Well, not see. But to know that you are well. Would that be okay with the two of you?”
Harry wasn't a hundred percent sure, but Draco, reluctant as he seemed, said yes, so Harry pressed the boy's hand to his forehead and nodded as well. As Dumbledore called owls, Harry watched Draco, the boy sitting again and looking exhausted. With Dumbledore around, Draco practically ignored Harry, and he was finding it a bit annoying. He didn't know if it was personal, or just some fear from Malfoy of looking like he was talking to himself.
Harry knelt next to the boy, peering at the side of his face and the curl of his ear until Draco scowled, turning towards Harry's breath tickling him. “Potter, don't you fucking dare start. I figured out that it was you in class yesterday. If you can torment me, I can bloody well punch you. Got it?”
Maybe he was just tired and cranky. Harry carefully reached his hand up, fingers brushing Draco's frown, causing the boy to gasp and reach for his wrist. “Seriously, you need to stop that,” Draco hissed softly, even though his anger had curbed, eyelids drooping slightly.
Which made Harry wonder if maybe Draco didn't really understand that he fucking wanted to shag the boy into the nearest sturdy surface. How many ways did he have to get this damn close before Malfoy figured out that Harry wasn't being weird and oblivious, but intentionally seductive? “Malfoy... you're a bit dim, like, dense even.”
Harry cupped the boy's face in his hands, watching Draco's eyes blink crystal and then lower as Harry breathed over his mouth. “Potter...?”
“You really are fucking dense. Wow.” The mumbled words seemed to do something to Draco, his eyes drooping more, lips parting slightly as his breathing increased. And then Draco jerked back, Dumbledore stepping back into the room. Harry gave an annoyed sigh and stood. He rested his hands on Draco's shoulders, walking around the boy and leaning on his back lightly as they waited.

Draco could not remember seeing so many Weasleys in one place ever, their numbers somehow increasing exponentially. Nearly all six siblings had attended to watch Ron play, Percy the only one off doing Ministry related things. Along with Granger, the werewolf Remus, and Draco's cousin Sirius, it was a packed house in Dumbledore's office, sofas and chairs of all shapes and sizes spelled up to house the lot of them. The Headmaster had stepped out with Snape to converse by floo with the specialist he was hoping could help with Harry.
An hour in, Draco was pretty sure he was going to lose his shit. It had already been a difficult day, what with the quidditch match, and his breakdown and all. Now he had to deal with countless gropings—Bill had noticed that you could actually feel where Harry was touching Draco's skin. And of course, they all had needed to try it, repeatedly. And fucking Potter kept touching his neck, like a god damn ass, until Draco had promised he was going to curse every single one of them if they didn't keep it to the back of his hand.
Then Granger had come up with the bloody brilliant—and it actually was brilliant, Draco had to admit—idea to have Harry move his hand around while Draco held a quill, that way the invisible boy could finally communicate. Which would have been fine, except to do it, Harry had wrapped himself up tight around Draco's back, head leaning on his shoulder to see while he held Draco's chest for balance. It was a lot of skin on bare skin, things lining up in ways that made Draco remember a particular ache, and all very maddening. Especially since now Harry was permanently breathing down Draco's neck. Much longer, and Draco was fairly certain he was going to melt into a puddle of goo.
Ha, see them try to converse with Potter then.
Everyone leaned in to focus once again on whatever Draco's hand was spewing now.
My magic doesn't work properly here. My wand was destroyed, and I've been having difficulty keeping in control.
They had already gone over the big things, like making sure Voldemort was really, really dead. And that Harry wasn't actually dead. Apparently Potter was concerned about his condition, and well, feeling each spark as Harry pressed up against him, Draco was getting concerned as well. There had been the pleasantries, the apologies for having never found Harry, or realizing what had happened. And the please don't annoy Malfoy moments, that seemed to be increasing the longer Draco was forced to be a living quill while fighting an erection.
Thankfully, all the crying had finally stopped, Ginny just down to sniffs, and Sirius having ceased his loud bawling only moments before her. Draco didn't know if Sirius gave him hope for his bloodline, or more concern of insanity dwelling. Considering how the man was sprawled over the werewolf, Draco had to imagine he wouldn't be siring children anytime soon to find out.
Dumbledore came in, interrupting the flow of conversation for more information. He handed Draco a new roll of parchment. “Harry, I need as much information about the dimension you share with Draco as you can think of. Please, every minuscule thing—it could be the defining factor in figuring out how to bring you back.”
Draco sighed, cricking his neck to the side. “Must you? My hand is cramping up.” He shuddered as air fell in snickering bursts over his neck. “Potter! What did I tell you about tickling me? Get away from my neck,” Draco growled. He twisted his shoulders back and forth, hoping to throw Harry off as the room went silent.
Draco raised his eyes to find everyone staring at him. “What? Read the bloody paper, and leave me alone already,” he huffed, rolling his eyes and catching sight of what Harry had just written.
You know you like it.
“Bloody—you are so dead, scarhead!” Draco snarled, standing so he could beat the crap out of the annoying git. Only to be hampered by Harry's arms when the boy grabbed him expectantly by the shoulders, as if knowing Draco was going to get angry. This revelation naturally made Draco angrier. “Let go, you bloody wanker!”
“Well, I'm definitely convinced now,” Sirius said with a grin, his eyebrows wagging.
“Indeed,” Bill agreed, whistling low. “I think you've been hiding something from us, Harry.”
Fred and Ron both shrugged. “Not really. He was kind of clear about it last year,” Fred said, throwing a whizzer at his twin. “You weren't home at the time.”
Hermione kindly reached forward and crossed the line off the page. “Ignore him, Malfoy. Harry hasn't talked to anyone in months. He's probably feeling a bit silly. I'm sorry this has been so difficult on you, but we really appreciate all your help.” She gave her most agreeable smile, and Draco, damn him, found himself nodding back, his anger draining.
Glaring at everyone in the room, Draco sat. “Potter, you have half an hour, then I'm through playing quill for the day. I suggest you get writing while my hand is still attached.” He bowed his head, staring down and swallowing hard as Harry once again settled behind him, wrapping far too close, with way too much heat and strong long limbs.
I'll make it up to you.
“Not bloody likely...” Draco grumbled, lashes lowering as heat suddenly fanned over his neck. He stilled, eyes closing as Harry kissed the back of his neck for a slow moment. Draco went to snap again, but thought better of it with so many people staring at him curiously. Instead he shrugged his shoulders again, moving Harry away from his odd display. Seriously, was Potter trying to piss him off so much he'd start kissing at him?
“So Harry, how come you haven't fallen through the floor yet?” Hermione asked, staring down at the paper expectantly.
The castle is full of magic. The earth too, but not as solid. I can stand and hold anything with enough magic in it.
“That could be useful...” Remus mussed. “We might be able to make you your own pen, at the very least.”
“Ah, and now I'm listening,” Draco perked, watching his hand move across the page. Potter's handwriting wasn't too bad, now that they'd gotten the hang of things.
I would really appreciate it. So would Malfoy.
“I am not a fan of being a puppet,” Draco agreed.
“So... is that why you can touch Malfoy then?” Ron asked. “He's full of magic...?”
Draco raised his brows, actually wondering that himself. “Do you know why, Potter? I always wondered why those strange creatures would seek me out.”
I can see why. But, I don't want to alarm you. Harry wrote hesitantly.
“Well, now you really have to say, don't you?” Sirius said flatly. “Talk about suspense.”
Draco took his free hand and buried his face in it for a moment, massaging his eyebrows. “Just tell me, Potter. Whatever it is, it's not new. It's hardly life or death.”
Okay. You might be part... something. I don't know what. But you have a tail and claws and feathers. And you glow very bright.
Draco pursed his lips as everyone once again turned their intent gaze to him. He met Sirius's very startled eyes, and narrowed silver back at his cousin. “Potter... What about Black? Or the werewolf? If its just about magical creature ancestry, why can't you touch them?”
“Hey, no one said I have—”
“Bullshit, Black, I can smell it a mile away,” Draco snapped. “If Potter is outing me, then you're outed too. Considering you were disinherited already, hardly a damn loss.”
Sirius growled, but didn't disagree. He looked around the room, glaring at the many Weasleys watching interestedly. “No one tells a soul, understand? Especially about Malfoy. You know what this kind of information can do if leaked. He'll lose all chance of getting a job and having a damn life. He'll certainly lose his pretty little fiancé. I will spell you to secrecy if I have to.”
Draco was trying very hard to ignore how still Harry had gotten behind him, the arm around his chest suddenly feeling more like a steel trap than anything else. Instead he looked at the words Harry had written, answering the earlier question.
Malfoy shares one specific dimension with me. No one else does. Fawkes shares three different ones, which is why I can touch him as well. Its may be less about magic, and more about sharing space
He had ended the last word with a scratch, and Draco had to imagine that was when Sirius had mentioned Serene. Deciding now was certainly not the time to talk about it, Draco spoke up. “Cousin, you don't have to worry. I have yet to meet a more upstanding family than the Weasleys. And Granger is, well, Granger. Hardly someone to go blabbing secrets. And Remus is a werewolf, so no one will listen to him anyways,” Draco added with a playful smirk.
“Geez, had me worried you were complimenting us.” Ron said with a chuckle. “You have not been well lately.”
“Guess it's just part of having feathers and a tail on a different plane of existence.” Draco turned his head to where Harry was again resting on his shoulder, having gone calmer. “So Potter, what do you look like? Since I'm apparently feathery.”
Scales too. You have both. I... I look like I'm breaking apart on that plane.
It was Draco's turn to still, hand mindlessly going to the arm wrapped around him and holding. “...How so?”
Cracks of light, like my energy is breaking out of my skin.
“The energy sparks?”
Yes.
Draco nodded blindly, mouth dragging into a frown. “Well, hopefully the specialist will be able to figure it all out.”
They started their goodbyes after that, realizing that Harry needed to get that information to Dumbledore sooner rather than later. Ron and Hermione lingered while everyone else gave Harry farewell pats on Draco's hand. They chatted for a while, Harry interrupting his descriptive text to jot conversation on a different page to join in with his old friends. Then Draco started getting tired from just so much happening that day and drifted.

Opening his eyes blearily, Draco looked around from where his cheek was pressed flat against the desk. His hand was moving, the sound of the quill still scratching in the room. But there didn't seem to be anyone there, besides the cooing phoenix and Potter, who was currently tracing his other fingers through Draco's hair.
“God... it's dark out. How are you still writing?” Draco mumbled, siting up slowly.
Don't sleep. Don't get tired.
“Ah... That must get boring.” Draco looked around blearily, only to start, Harry leaning forward and resting his body on him heavily. Breath was suddenly on Draco's cheek and he glanced towards where Harry was likely staring back. “What?”
You're mad cute when you're asleep.
Staring intently at the words, they did not reveal themselves to be an illusion. Draco still tilted his head, wondering if he was just very, very tired. “Potter... I really don't know what you're thinking here...”
Seriously, still? You're Hot. Sexy. Very fucking sexy. How blunt do I need to be?
Everything sort of went red after that, Draco blinking dumbly at the page, heat rushing to his face.
I can't stop thinking of you. Yesterday in the shower when you
Draco used his free hand to slam down the quill, cutting off Harry's words. “Don't. Not that,” he whispered hollowly.
Harry pulled the quill away, writing quickly. Why? You were beautiful.
Draco shook his head, breathing out unsteadily. “It's not funny, Potter. Just because I'm the only one you can talk to doesn't mean you get to fucking tease me about this. Just stop it.”
I'm not teasing!
“Fucking are, you bloody—” Draco stopped, quickly crumpling up the spare piece of parchment as Dumbledore walked into the room. “Sir, if I could go already, that would be great,” he said, rising and pulling away from the extremely warm, and now still body behind him.
“Of course, Draco. I wanted to thank you for all your help today in bringing Harry back to us. And, with the writing.” Dumbledore picked up the many pages of text Harry had been writing while Draco had slept, glancing over them quickly. “Hopefully there will be something here to give us a clue as to how to get Harry back.”
Draco nodded, distracted and irritable. He really wanted to get out of there already. “Not a problem. And if you would just not mention any of this to my mother, that would be great.”
Dumbledore looked grave and Draco stopped his fidgeting. “What... you spoke with her?”
“No, but I have a feeling she will be owling you.” Dumbledore combed his long beard a moment, then sighed. “We made some inquiries into your ancestry once it was revealed that you weren't fully human. Nothing that could harm your standings in the society, but I'm certain that you father has a network to catch these sorts of things. It was definitely from his side, Draco. As his only heir, they will want to protect you from word getting out.”
Fucking hell—What did that mean, exactly? Was he going to end up as fucking crazy as his father now? Harry's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and Draco started from his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling away and edging towards the door. “Fine, whatever, it's done. I really need to get going.”
Dumbledore held his hand up. “Draco, we're going to need your help again once McVicar gets here. We will try to work around your class schedule, but I'm sure you can understand the urgency of this. Given Harry's condition—”
“It's fine. I'll do whatever I can to help,” Draco interrupted. “Just ask. But now I really need to eat, sir.”
“Of course, my apologies. I'll have the house elves send something to your room. Harry, it is such a relief to have you back with us.” Dumbledore led them to the door, and Draco was finally free, pulling again out of Harry's hand when the boy tried to hold his back while walking down the hallway.

Harry wasn't sure exactly why Malfoy was pissed, but the boy was definitely angry. After about five minutes of pretending to eat, he had given it up to stalk around his room pacing. Harry kept trying to grab the boy and get him to write, but that only seemed to make Malfoy more upset, so Harry just stood in a corner out of the way while he fumed.
Harry watched, loving the flash in Draco's eyes and the way his hair flowed around him while he whirled and muttered. He was still in his quidditch uniform, not having thought to change even now. Pacing, snarling, and being over all hot, maybe Harry did have a bit of a problem when it came to the prat.
“Potter, where are you?” Draco called, stopping in the middle of the room. Noticing he had a quill in hand, Harry stepped forward, brushing fingers over his arm. Draco jumped, and Harry had to wonder why he kept doing that, seeing as he knew he was right there.
Draco pulled him over to the desk, throwing a piece of parchment down. “Promise me, Potter. That you won't tell a god damn soul about yesterday.”
Curling fingers around Draco's, Harry carefully moved the boy's smaller hand around.
What about yesterday?
“Potter!” Harry took a step back as Draco shoved him.
“Fuck, Malfoy. What the fuck is your problem?” he muttered, grabbing the hand trying to punch him.
“Damn it!” Draco struggled in his grasp, and Harry only held on harder, stepping closer to look down at the annoying, beautiful prat. “I have responsibilities, you dolt. People can't know that I... that I like that sort of thing. It... it's not really accepted with purebloods, or, well, most normal society in general.” Draco muttered.
With a start, Harry realized that Draco was talking about the shower. Malfoy actually looked distressed. Harry had never had any issue with his own sexuality, but then, he had been able to talk to Remus and Sirius about it. Who the fuck did Malfoy have to talk to, besides his fucked up family?
Harry tugged Draco's hand back down to the table, writing again, lopsided from the angle.
I wasn't planning on telling anyone.
Draco visibly relaxed, sitting and slumping down in the chair. “Thanks...”
Why does it matter?
Harry watched as Draco scowled, free hand covering half his face.
You're fucking beautiful.
“Stop!” Draco snapped, trying to wrest his arm away. Harry used his other hand to hold the boy still, scrawling quickly.
Why would I joke about this? Who the fuck would find it funny?
“I don't bloody know, but its all you fucking lions joke about. Everything is a fucking broom ride with you lot, and this is my god damn life!”
Draco had managed to pull his arm free and was trying to get past him, nearly knocking his head right into Harry's bowed one. Because he could, and he fucking wanted to, and he was sick of this very frustrating feeling, Harry grabbed the boy around his waist and lifted him up.
“Potter! Stop being so annoying!” Draco was hazy eyed again, face flushed across his pale cheeks, and Harry really just couldn't stop himself from kissing him. It was very much the wrong move, Draco's hands quickly finding his hair and pulling hard until Harry placed him back on the ground.
“I'm fucking serious—I am not some fucking toy, you asshole!” Draco snarled, somewhere around his shoulder since he still couldn't seem to remember that Harry was taller than him.
“You're out of your fucking mind, Malfoy! Who the fuck kisses someone they don't like—You're fucking intentionally oblivious!” Harry growled loudly, because the boy could not hear him, and the damn writing only seemed to be so very easy for Draco to misinterpret. Then, since apparently he just couldn't fucking let it go, even now with Malfoy looking like he was going to murder him, Harry cupped the boy's face and kissed him again.
Again, very much the wrong move, Draco now grabbing Harry's fingers and trying to bend them backwards. Which was very confusing to Harry, seeing how the boy was also moaning, lips parted as Harry drove his tongue in to meet his. Harry sacrificed one of his hands to Draco's malicious retaliation, using the other to thread through the hair at the back of Draco's head and keep the boy's mouth on his.
God, he really was just fucking divine. Fiery, and wet, and damn fucking perfect.
“Fuck, Potter... stop...” Draco gasped into his mouth, his hands finally stopping the painful finger bending and coming to rest on Harry's chest. Hand now free, Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's trim waist, pressing their bodies together and earning a wonderful, shaky cry from the boy. Bare hot flesh pressed against bare hot flesh, Draco started trembling, and Harry feeling a strange heat start to rise in him.
“I don't want to stop, you prat... I don't ever want to let you go... Why can't you understand that?” Harry murmured between deep kisses, pulling gasps, and moans, and even one very adorable squeak from Draco's red mouth.
And then Draco was hitting him again, the little ferret going so far as to bite in a less sexy and just plain painful way, until Harry finally pulled his mouth away.
“I'm getting fucking married!”
“To some fucking bird, when you are clearly gay and hot for me, you idiot.” Somehow, once again his argument was lost on Draco, because when Harry went to kiss him again, his ear was suddenly twisted. “Shit... shit... owww...”
“I am getting married,” Draco continued determinedly, eyes alight with anger and a fair bit of torment. “In less than a month. It is difficult enough, without you—you fucking reminding me that I very much don't like women. You are a very good kisser, by the way, so please fucking stop it.” Draco shoved him and Harry stumbled back in surprise, eventually crouching to keep from falling.
Fuck. Fucking Malfoy. Harry stood, pacing around the boy who looked very much like he didn't know whether to start yelling or hitting. “Don't fucking marry her!”
“And you know what else, Potter? What the fuck are you kissing me for, anyways? When did seeing me, uh, in the shower, make you think you could just fucking kiss me? I never said a god damn thing about that being okay! Like you have some fucking right, just because no one can see you?”
Alright, Harry knew at this point he definitely had a problem. The prat was just too fucking gorgeous when he was angry—Had been a problem a year ago. Now Harry really just couldn't seem to stop himself after having spent hours pressed up against him while writing, stolen long licks as the boy slept, had kissed him repeatedly, had seen him naked, and fuck—had seen just how much Draco would enjoy getting his ass shagged. Once again Harry found himself stalking forward, pulling Draco's slender form towards him, and kissing him.
Apparently Draco had a similar problem, because his hands were grabbing at Harry's shoulders as he kissed back just as hard, giving in to Harry's demanding tongue readily, lips swollen and hot juice dripping from the corner of his panting mouth. Only to again push Harry back, silver eyes so hazy Harry was fairly certain the boy would cave if he just kissed him once more.
“Potter... I can't even fucking see you!” Draco shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “It's like kissing thin air—It's weird!”
Ah, maybe not so much. “Crap... Close your eyes or something,” Harry murmured, raising his hand to gently press down over Draco's eyes. That seemed to do the trick, Draco no longer resisting as Harry pressed lips to his, softer this time. He kissed him until Draco was gasping, short nails scraping at the back of Harry's neck, and this time Harry didn't stop him when the boy pulled away to sit in a heap on the bed.
“Fuck, Potter... what the fuck are you doing to me?” Draco muttered shakily, hand running through his hair. “I'm getting married. Soon. There is no way around it... And you, you're not even here, are you? You're off in some other fucking plane of existence that just happens to have a bit of me in it. Hell, you wouldn't even be in the building if not for the magic keeping you from falling through. What the fuck is kissing going to do, except drive me mad?”
Harry wasn't sure, and didn't really care. It was just that he really wanted to keep kissing the gorgeous prat, whenever the urge hit him. He reached his hand for Draco's right one, touching his fingertips.
“No... I don't want to talk with you... You'll find some fucking way to convince me, and I can't do this, Potter. I can't.” Draco grumbled, throwing his arm over his face to block his eyes from the sight of absolutely nothing. “I can't tell if you're having me on... can't tell if you're happy, or sad, or angry... I can't tell a god damn thing, except that you seem to enjoy pissing me off, and kissing me. In that order, at that.”
Harry pulled harder on his hand, but Draco resisted. “Come on, Malfoy. How the fuck can I make you understand if you won't let me?”
“We need some fucking boundaries, Potter. I need you to not go in my loo while I'm in there. And you should stop kissing me, and touching me all the fucking time too. Especially... especially when I'm sleeping...”
There was no way Harry was about to agree to any of that. Fuck boundaries. He had spent the last months drifting aimlessly, waiting to die. He had no interest in wasting the little time he had left not enjoying it with the most stunning creature on the planet, that also happened to be able to touch him back. Harry raised Draco's hand to head and shook a clear no.
Scowling, Draco pushed Harry back by the forehead. “You're a fucking pain, Potter. What, you think just because you killed You-Know-Who that you can bloody have whatever you want from me? Arrogant ass.”
Harry snorted at the very notion, sitting next to Draco on his magically charmed sheets. “Malfoy, if I thought for a bloody second that you didn't want me, I would not be pawing at you. Although I would still be looking, believe you me.” Of course, Draco couldn't hear him because he refused to get the quill. He did seem to be able to sense him though, Draco's eyes flickering to where Harry was sitting now.
“Potter, I'm fucking tired. Today has been shit. Let me sleep, and stop bloody staring at me.”
Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco chin, leaning forward and watching the silver eyes widen as Draco's breath sped up and brushed Harry's face. “I am going to stare all I fucking like, Draco. You are beautiful, and deserve to be stared at. That no one stares—hell, that no one touches you is a goddamn crime, and one I am not willing to commit.” He brushed his lips to Draco's, listening as the boy gasped. Then that dangerous feeling was rising in Harry again, and with hot intent, he slid his tongue out and slowly licked up the side of Draco's face. Draco made a noise between a shout and a moan, bringing a hand up to shove Harry away. Harry quickly caught it, and dipped his head lower to lick up Draco's neck.
“Potter... you're a fucking dog... Oh god... Get the fuck off me... and stop licking me...” It would be easier to stop if Draco's free hand wasn't stuck in Harry's thick hair, holding his head down while Harry continue to lick and suck at Draco's neck. For all his words of protest, Draco was clearly enjoying himself, head lolling to the side, eyes half closed while Harry held the boy up and continued marking his neck with red, mouth sized spots.
Suddenly Draco's hand was prying at Harry's face, and when Harry pulled away he could clearly see the agony in the beautiful silver eyes. “Stop... please. I'm getting married, and it's not... it's not right, Potter. Stop making things so difficult.”
Sighing, Harry got up, moving back to the corner in the room to put space between himself and Draco. The boy was exhausted, he could see that. And yes, as determined as Harry was, he could see he was not helping Draco with anything at the moment, only infuriating and exasperating the boy.
“Malfoy, why the fuck are you getting married? You're only seventeen. You're clearly gay. Marrying some oblivious girl is just going to hurt her more than anything.” Just speaking the atrocity out loud was frustrating, and Harry crouched, hands flat on the floor so he could feel something solid. “Shit, Malfoy, even if it wasn't me you're with, it sure as fuck shouldn't be a girl. I would prefer it to be me. But don't live the rest of your life pretending to be straight. It's... it's fucking stupid.”
Draco didn't answer, having stripped the majority of his quidditch uniform off to curl under the blankets and close his eyes.
Harry stood, not approaching the bed, but staring from where he was. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
Naturally, he got no answer. Another spark tore through Harry's form, this one right across his stomach and extremely painful. Cursing, he began to pace, not in the mood to sit and drift.
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