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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Part V

Potter doesn�t talk to me. That�s definitely a first.
I should be glad. Relieved that I don�t need to talk about what happened. Relieved that no questions are being asked.
But frankly, I don�t know what to do with myself. These dungeons seem never before to have been this quiet. The chessboard stands immobile on its table, leftover pieces from the last game still scattered over the wood, as if time is standing still since last night.
It makes me feel slightly claustrophobic.
I catch Potter looking at me as I stare at the chessboard. He looks away immediately, his eyes big pools of such animosity, such loathing that I feel sick. And I hate him all the more because of it. What right does he have to make me feel like this? What right does that ignorant prick have to cause me to feel this kind of pity, this kind of heartwrenching regret?
Malfoys aren�t supposed to feel regret. Yet, I do. I regret that our world isn�t different, that we aren�t different. If it was, if we were, maybe there would be some way that I could do something besides tell him �no�.
Most of all, I regret being here and having to crush my own stupid fantasies each day.

I watch him turn his back on me and lying down on the bed, closing his eyes. And I keep watching him until his breathing slows down and evens out as he falls asleep. Because that�s what I do. That�s what I�m here for. To watch Harry Potter.

******

�Draco. Would you be so kind as to serve your fiancée some more wine?�
Mother looks at me pointedly, raising her own glass in demonstration. I nod at her quickly. �Certainly, Mother.�
I turn to Astoria, who quite frankly looks like she has had enough to drink already. �Would you care for some more wine, Astoria?� I ask, plastering what I know to be a very genuine-looking smile on my face.
The girl beside smiles at me widely, nodding eagerly while she covers her mouth with her pale hand in a feeble attempt to hide her hiccups. I lift the carafe and pour the red liquid into both her and my glass. I will definitely need another drink to get through this evening.
Mother and Mrs Greengrass smile at the both of us happily, turning back to their interrupted conversation about the new chandeliers in the second story drawing room. I am forced to turn back to Astoria, trying to find something even remotely interesting to talk with her about.
Unfortunately my lack of interest in Astoria and the girl�s simple character brings me to something less than imaginative. �I do hope that you are enjoying your dinner?� I ask her, gesturing towards her almost empty plate as if the answer wasn�t obvious.
Astoria grins widely, showing off her perfect white teeth. �Yes, it was wonderful!� She claps her hands together enthusiastically. �If I were so lucky as to eat like this every day!� she exclaims, before realisation lights up her face and she laughs loudly. �Oh, I forgot; I will be so lucky!�
The girl touches my arm gently while reaching for her glass with her other hand, and I do my best not to shudder.

No self-control and can�t hold her liquor. This bodes well for the future.

******
Later my wife-to-be has become so intoxicated that she is just about falling off her chair. Trying to salvage some dignity for both her and myself, I am forced to excuse us and take her outside for some fresh air.
�Oh, what a beauuuutiful night!� she proclaims as we enter the veranda, just about falling over her own feet.
�Indeed it is,� I mutter, having long since lost any interest that I might have previously had to be polite to the girl. She stares into the garden for a long time, her eyes slowly starting to look somewhat clearer. I sigh, uncertain if a sober Astoria Greengrass is much better company than a drunken one.
�You are beautiful!� the girl suddenly declares, smiling at me widely and certainly not soberly. I am too stunned by the impropriety of her stupidity to answer immediately. And before I have the time, I suddenly find myself with an armful of Astoria. She kisses me furiously, reeking of wine, her arms wrapped around my neck. I do as I am expected and reciprocate, though I am momentarily stunned that timid little Astoria Greengrass managed to make such a bold move. It would have never happened without the alcohol.
Surprisingly enough, it�s not a bad kiss. Astoria is a fairly attractive girl, with a clear hue and bright brown eyes. I force myself to relax into the situation, wrapping my arms around the girl�s waist. She leans into me, sighing contently and weaving her fingers into my hair.
She is soft and small, smelling of pomegranates and wine, her long hair tickling my nose.
And she is all wrong.
I suddenly find that I am short of breath and am forced to push her away, not all that gently. Astoria gasps as I pull away unexpectedly, fighting to keep her balance. I run a hand through my hair and straighten out my shirt. �We should go back inside,� I murmur, trying to hide my self-consciousness behind a serious expression.
Astoria frowns disappointedly, looking like she is about to say something. Luckily she seems to change her mind at the last minute. �Sure.�

It is late in the night when the Greengrass party finally leaves and I am allowed to hide away in the safety of my room. I cannot be around Mother and Father, I feel as if they easily could see through my exterior into my shame and disgrace. I feel as if everyone who looks at me can see that I just turned down a pretty girl, my fiancée, because I kept thinking of a guy when she kissed me.
Because I kept thinking of Harry fucking Potter.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
I hate myself. I hate me for being unable to stay away. For being so weak, so feeble that I couldn�t stop Potter from carving his way into my heart.

******
As morning dawns I haven�t been able to sleep at all, and I am becoming more or less hysterical. I don�t want to go back to the dungeons. I don�t want to see Potter.
I need to see Potter.

I can�t stay away anymore.

And so, when the first rays of the morning sun rise above the horizon, I get dressed and make my way to the dungeons. Just as I have done for the last month.

He is still asleep when I enter the room.
Potter moves around a lot in his sleep. Rolling, thrashing so wildly that he has kicked his quilt down into a heap on the floor. I�ve never seen him sleep before, and something about seeing him like this, without any kind of wall around him, without any kind of barrier, feels so intimate that it makes my guts turn.
I had no idea what obsession was. Until I saw Potter through these bars.
Without thinking any further I unlock the cell and walk through the door, slumping down on my knees before the bed. Looking down at Potter�s features, I notice how pale and luminous his skin has become during this month without sunlight.
Why does he have to be so fucking beautiful?
A deep, shaky sigh escapes me, and Potter stirs in his sleep. He opens one eye, then both, looking at me in confusion. One hand comes up to hastily brush away the remains of sleep from his eyes.

I sigh deeply, still uncertain if what I�m about to do is in any sense wise. I know that it absolutely is not. In spite of that, my brain keeps screaming for me to jump.
Tired of resisting, I step over the edge.
�How come every time I think I have the upper hand, you come and turn my life upside down?� I ask him, my voice raw and shaky.
And before he has time to answer, I wrap my hands around his neck and kiss him. Regrets be damned.

Potter shudders, from the cold or from my touch I do not know. But he kisses me back eagerly, gasping lightly as I move an hand beneath his shirt and run it over his stomach. He hurries to move, grabbing my robes and pulling them off me in a haste. I shiver as my bare arms come in contact with the freezing air, but I continue and pull off my undershirt as well.
Potter�s eyes wander my chest hungrily, and I feel my arousal building by the second. I lean forward and trap Potter�s mouth beneath my mouth anew, my hand seeking its way down and cupping his erection through his jeans. Potter gasps, pulling away and staring me straight in the eyes.
�I want you,� he says breathlessly, and for a moment I am certain I misheard him.
Then he swiftly pulls off his own shirt and grabs my hand, insistently pulling me forward as he lies down on the poor excuse for a bed. I lie down on top of him, and he begins kissing my neck ferociously.
�Potter, I-� I begin to protest, suddenly very nervous.
�Please,� he breathes in an almost breathless tone into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. �If I die tomorrow, I want to do this today.�
Something about Potter making this his death wish goes straight to my cock, and I cannot help the low gasp that escapes me. I look down at Potter, who is staring at me expectantly, and it occurs to me that I have never wanted anything more than what Potter is asking.
I take a deep breath before clamping my mouth down on Potter�s, my hands travelling swiftly down to unbutton his jeans as I move my hips against his. He moans and tries to move against me, but my weight on top of him makes it difficult. Having managed to unbutton his jeans, I deliver a sharp bite at his lower lip and pull away to pull the jeans down his legs. Potter gasps breathlessly as his erection springs free, and it crosses my mind that I have never seen anything more beautiful than him lying here, stretched out naked before me.
I quickly toss his trousers aside and move to undress my own. When I manage to untangle myself from them I look down to see Potter staring at me greedily, his mouth twisted in a husky grin. My breath exhilarates at the sight of him.
I lean down over him, kissing him sloppily. �Turn around,� I whisper between our mouths.
Potter seems startled for a second, but when he grins lecherously and spins around to lie on his stomach, an overwhelming feeling of power washes over me. It brings me enormous joy to have Potter spread before me, obeying my commands.
Breathing huskily into his ear, I let my hands flow over his muscular back, my nails drawing pink lines into his skin. Potter shudders and whimpers, grinding himself into the mattress and letting a breathy �oh, god!� escape his lips. I grin into the back of his neck, letting my teeth grace the sensitive skin there.
My hands wander down to his arse, to the smooth skin that I take my time exploring as I nudge my knee between his thighs to spread them apart. By now Potter has begun rutting into the mattress quite fiercely, and I realise I will have to hurry or neither of us is going to last. I reach down to the floor and search through the pockets of my robes for my wand.
I point the wand at my neglected prick and mutter a lubrication charm. �Ready?� I ask Potter, a little more affectionately than I had intended.
�Oh God, yes!� he pants, glancing at me over his shoulder. I see no doubt in those green eyes, and the trust he lays on me warms me with a disturbing fuzzy feeling in my stomach. I hurry to look away.
Guiding myself, I push inside him as slowly as I can manage. More for my own sake than Potter�s, as I am not sure that I will be able to last. Potter pants and moans, his words incoherent indicators of both pain and pleasure. For me, the tight heat and pleasure is almost too much. When I am fully sheathed, I pause for a few seconds to let both me and Potter catch our breaths.
I am completely unprepared and can only gasp at the unexpected sensation as Potter suddenly wriggles beneath me. �Would you please-�just� move!� he breathes.
I obey, pulling out almost completely and thrusting back, hard. Potter cries out beneath me, his hands pulling at the mattress beneath him and his neck flushed pink with exertion. I pull out again, changing my angle slightly as I push back in, and this time Potter almost jumps off the bed.
�Oh fuck!� he exclaims, breathing heavily. �Do that again!�
I soon accomplish on setting a slow rhythm, hitting his prostate with every stroke. My knees dig painfully into the bed, but my brain fails to care. Potter gives up trying to move much in favour of repeating incoherent phrases.
Somehow the burning, wonderful pleasure melts together with the annihilation of my life into a tantalizing world of heat, pale skin and spices. Who knew that the complete destruction of one�s principles and values could be this wonderful.
The feelings have been building up too long and we are too impatient for it to last very long. I listen to Potter repeating �god, fuck, oh yes!� over and over again, but then he lets out a long moan.
�Draco!�
And just like that, I am pushed over the edge. I groan loudly, gritting my teeth together violently as I empty myself into him, thrusting in a couple more times, riding off my pleasure. That seems to set it for Potter, and he comes too, gasping loudly and bucking under me. When he stops moving I pull out from him, slumping down beside him and forcing him to make room for me in the tiny bed. He turns on his side, and we lie like that, looking at each other while our pulses try to return to normal.
Soon we realise how cold the room is compared to our overheated bodies, and Potter leans down to pick up the quilt from the floor. I move to get up, but Potter prevents me by wrapping a tired arm around my chest.
�No,� he says simply, pulling me towards him and dragging the quilt over our cooling bodies. I open my mouth to object, but Potter�s arms around me seem to erase all coherent thoughts.
I realise that I have just made myself worthy approximately one hundred Crucios. And for the first time in my life, I simply cannot bother to care.

End of part V
- 4
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- 6
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Behind the Green Door