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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six
Draco awoke late Sunday morning, yesterday just a very dull memory in the back of his mind. He could smell Harry there, his scent surrounding him, but could not feel his breath. Maybe that would have to be the compromise to their situation, where Harry would hover, but not in a way that Draco could obviously discern where he was.
Currently, all Draco could think of was how fucking hard he was. He had been having a fine dream with green eyes, and tan skin, and messy chocolate hair, likely brought up by the scent of said boy filling his senses. Draco was in his own bed, in his own room, where he could very easily, and usually did, take care of this problem. He did not want to have to kick Potter the fuck out, knowing the boy would likely only sneak back in anyways.
Shit—when had Potter become such a damn voyeur, anyways?
Eyes firmly closed, Draco slipped his hand down beneath the waistband of his boxers, trying very hard to be quiet as he wrapped his fingers around his erection. Another thing he resented, because he had never had to be quiet before, not since earning a room of his own. “Oh...” He was also not very good at being quiet anymore.
Harry's breath was there suddenly, hot and scalding at the juncture where Draco's neck met his shoulder. Draco did everything he could not to react to it, instead trying to focus on his hand, and his dick, and nothing about hovering Potter always watching him with those glowing green eyes he could no longer see. “Oh fuck...” He bit his lip, trying to stop a moan, Harry's breath suddenly moving down his chest as if there was no blanket on him at all.
Draco could feel Harry's body heat as he moved, floating very close above him. God he had to be only centimeters away from touching him. And then the heat was very much on his hand, and his fisted cock, and Draco fought back a cry, head thrown back as he bucked into his hand.
He lay there, panting on the bed, waiting for Harry to move the fuck away so he could get up and pretend he wasn't there properly.
Eventually he did, body heat disappearing, breath no longer lingering around Draco's thighs. Fucking Potter... fuck... Draco waited a few more minutes, wondering if Harry was touching himself... wondering if he might come back over and try to touch him. And how that might be a damn good idea.
And then Draco got up, realizing he was losing his shit again, and needed to pee, and shower, and really fucking hoped Potter would give him some privacy.
Harry was back in the corner, fingers on his face as he sunk teeth into his hand. The prat hadn't said a fucking word. Had touched himself as if he wasn't there, even though Harry knew at this point that being a foot away was about the closest he could get before Draco realized where he was. And if Harry had touched him? What would Draco have done then?
Yelled? Punched? Moaned? Fucking hell... just fuck...
Hand still firmly implanted between his teeth, Harry walked to the bathroom door, peeking his head through. Draco was showering, looking near efficient as if expecting Harry to be watching and not wanting to give him ideas. Harry did not know how to deal with this.
All last night he had told himself that he would talk to the prat in the morning. He would convince him that being gay was so much better than marrying for money, or prestige, or whatever the fuck Malfoy was throwing his life away for. But this was Draco giving him the coldest shoulder he could, pretending Harry wasn't even there, never mind, might not come back. Not reacting to his presence, to the point of jerking off right in front of him.
Oh hell, and Harry might not mind too fucking much about it. He stepped into the bathroom, making sure he was far enough away so as not to alert Draco to his presence. Harry watched him wash yesterday's match off his skin, and the morning's cum off his hand.
Was he supposed to pretend, too? As if he could ignore Draco Malfoy in the bloody room, nude, pale skin slick with water and soap? Harry didn't want to ignore it. He wanted to touch him, and show him just how fucking good it could be if Draco would just stop fighting what he wanted. He wanted to take that soap, fill the boy's tight hole with it, and fuck him up against the shower wall while Draco wailed in delirious agony.
Harry settled for watching and touching himself, mind swirling on all the many terrible, wonderful things he wanted to do to Draco. Right now they had some strange truce, and Harry was grateful for at least that. Pushing the boy... that could possibly make him lose everything. Draco was definitely skittish enough, explosive enough, to put Harry in his place if he pushed too far. That wasn't too bad of a thought either.
“Fuck, Malfoy. Fucking tease... that's what you are...” Harry grunted, his release quickly following. “Hell, I like it when you tease...”
Resting back against the wall, Harry waited for Draco to finish his shower. Harry then stepped back into the bedroom, waiting in the corner again to give Draco whatever perceived sense of space and privacy he wanted as he stared unceasingly at him.

Late for breakfast, Draco was surprised to find Blaise and Pansy waiting for him while Weasley and Granger sat across at the Slytherin table and chatted with his friends. The Great Hall was nearly empty, but still, it was a bizarre sight.
“Are you two lost?” Draco asked, sitting down between his friends and staring pointedly at the Gryffindors.
“Nope, just wanted to say hi to Harry,” Ron said cheerfully.
Draco glanced at Blaise and Pansy, who did not seem even remotely surprised at the news. “And you just assume Potter's following me around, everywhere I go?”
“Duh. Given the chance, I can't imagine he wouldn't.”
Draco sighed, getting somewhat annoyed with everyone insinuating that Harry had a thing for him. Then again, he was late because he had ended up having to heal all the fucking bites Potter had left on his neck from the night before, so maybe there was a damn point to it. “I haven't eaten yet, and I would prefer to enjoy my breakfast without having to write at the same time.”
Hermione waved her hand airily. “No really, just to say hi. I doubt he wants to write all the time either. Oh, and to let you know that Dumbledore's specialist has arrived, and is waiting down in Snape's office when you're done.”
“Okay...” Draco started eating, only to realize that the Gryffindors were content to stay where they were, talking to Pansy about something. “Am I missing something here?”
“Just catching up on the feathers and scale thing,” Blaise said, grinning wickedly.
“Ah... crap.” Scowling, Draco began to shovel food into his mouth to prevent anyone from asking questions. Harry was hovering behind, by his shoulder, not touching him for a change. Draco couldn't tell if the boy was upset, or what, Harry having not touched him the entire morning. Except when Draco had held his hand out to make sure the invisible boy got out the bedroom door.
Draco had not been oblivious to the relationship Pansy and Blaise had with Potter's old tag-a-longs, but had yet to see it quite so blatantly flaunted in front of him. It was a bit odd, but then, so were his friends and he had no interest in losing them over something as trivial as lions.
“You told them to keep it hush about Potter, right?” Draco asked. “That the wrong people could possible hurt him.”
“Yes, although I still don't see how that can happen,” Ron said, looking around as if expecting to see Harry. “You're the only one he can touch.”
“And magic,” Blaise added. “Magic can do a lot of things, even if its a simple as caging him and squashing him flat.”
Draco, who had not been thinking of that, instead worried of someone taking over his body to attack Harry, was momentarily stunned. Without thinking, he reached up behind him until hesitantly Harry touched his hand.
Seeing Draco's distressed look, not to mention how pale Harry's friends had gotten, Blaise added quickly, “If anyone could even see him to find him. He did defeat the Dark Lord, after all.”
“No, you're right,” Draco muttered. “We should be testing him to see if he is effected by our magic.” Draco let go of Harry's hand, only to have the boy wrap both around his shoulders and lean on him, breath ruffling his blond hair. Apparently Draco had given the paw me and hover signal.
Pansy was giving Draco a long glance, eventually pointing to his hair. “Bit clingy, huh?”
“Something like that.” Ignoring her amused smirk, he went back to eating. Granger and Weasel had started talking to Harry as if he could answer back, telling him about things going on at school that years, what he had missed, and how they had kept his things in storage at the Burrow. It all blurred in Draco's mind, especially when Harry shifted, heat suddenly on his neck as the boy leaned onto Draco's shoulder for support.
“Potter... are you alright?” he asked quietly, Harry's face now pressed against his throat. Then Draco groaned, grabbing the idiot by his messy hair as Harry licked up the side of his neck. “Fucking ass! Last time I worry about you!” He shoved Harry backwards, trying to ignore how his neck was tingling, his cheeks were flushed, and everyone was staring at him.
Ron was outright laughing at him, Hermione shaking her head in a cross between amusement and reprimand. “Harry, that's not very polite...”
Draco realized that they must have seen his hair move when Harry had, and covered his face with his hand as Pansy cackled in his ear. “You know, I don't have to take this. I don't have to help that stupid wanker, and I don't have to hang around, and let you lot make fun of me.”
“No—no one is making fun, I swear!” Ron choked out between laughs. “It's him... laughing at him... He used to say something about... making you untidy...”
Scowling, Draco moved his hand up, realizing Potter had ruffled his hair into a mess before being thrown back. “For fuck sake.” He combed his hair back into place, meeting Blaise's twinkling eye.
“I'm sure he'll stop if you stop reacting to him. He seems like a five year old.” As if to prove his point, Harry suddenly wrapped arms around Draco, pulling him back on the bench and holding him against his chest as he whispered something into his ear he could not hear.
Draco twitched, the air very ticklish and skin very warm, watching as Harry lifted his writing hand and held it out for a pen. Hermione was ready, quill and parchment placed before them. Draco was only just getting the suspicion that whatever Potter was going to say would likely be just as bloody annoying as his current behavior, when Harry moved his hand across the paper.
Three year old. I'm very much in need of attention.
Pansy frowned, looking at Draco. “You sure you didn't write that?”
Please, he's pretty sure I'm just a dog humping his leg. Right Malfoy?
“Bitter and true.” Draco growled, glaring in the direction of Harry's face.
“Oh Harry, what have you done?” Hermione asked woefully, reading the words upside down.
Well, you're bloody wrong. And my friends will be happy to tell you.
“I don't need your friends to tell me you're a fucked up perv, Potter.” But Ron was holding the quill still before Harry could respond.
“He's in love with you, and let's leave it at that,” Ron said sternly, eyes going to Draco's very wide ones, then to where Harry was pressing into his hair again. “Harry, stop pestering him. He thought you were dead; we all thought it. Have some damn consideration.”
Draco wasn't sure if he was more shocked that the Weasel had just said Harry was in love with him, or that he was berating Harry while being protective of Draco. He blinked down, Harry writing something else.
Consideration? Try existing like a fucking ghost for nearly a year, all because some sick fuck didn't have enough power to kill me.
It was Hermione’s turn, hands thumping flat on the table as the short girl stood and glared at Draco's shoulder as well. “You want a damn pity party? Think we're going to all sit around and cry because you're stuck and falling apart in that dimension? Not bloody likely, Harry. Buck the hell up and remember you're coming back home. Start acting like it.”
Harry tightened around Draco, anger clear in his tense muscles. There was the echo of another spark, as if something had jolted Harry around his back. And then, just as quickly, he was gone, Harry releasing Draco and stepping away. In surprise, Draco grabbed the table to keep from falling backwards.
“He's pissed,” Draco muttered to no one in particular.
“He'll get over it,” Ron said flatly. “He's been alone for a long time and he needs to realize you're a person, not just some fantasy. He probably thought you were dead, too.” Pushing himself up from the table, Ron held his hand out to Hermione. “Come on. We have our whole Sunday still. You know he'll sulk the day away.”
“Probably...” Hermione turned to Draco, looking apologetic. “Don't let him bully you around. He'll hate himself later for it—whether he's back and healthy, or dies in that place.” She looked up, glancing around the room. “You know I'm right, Harry. Try and get your head on straight.”
Draco stared after their retreating backs, eyes narrowing as he turned to his remaining friends. “Why would he think I was dead?”
Blaise looked away, but Pansy didn't back down. “He heard us that night, trying to convince you to keep living. Told them. They approached us around Christmas after he died, not willing to talk to you about it, but worried. We were all worried.” She stopped, standing as well. “They helped make it easier for us, Draco, while watching you fall apart. It's been a damn difficult year.”
Draco didn't say anything, studying his hands instead. He was barely passing his classes, barely eating, barely playing quidditch... barely living. Did he have to feel guilty for his friends' suffering too?
She didn't leave right away, tilting his chin until Draco met her eye. “Not blaming you, just explaining how it's been. We are all very glad that you made it through.” Draco nodded, letting her kiss his forehead.
“Sorry...” He pushed his plate away, not even remotely hungry anymore.
“Did you want me to come along with you?” Blaise asked, very still as he sat next to Draco.
Draco shook his head, watching as Blaise got up and left the Great Hall to catch up with Pansy. “Shit... Don't I feel like a fucking ass?”
He didn't get an answer for a long time, Harry off doing whatever it was he was doing to let off steam. Draco waited patiently, knowing that the rest of his day was going to be dedicated to figuring out how to get the boy back. He wasn't resentful. A part of him wanted to be, wanted to want more than just spending time with Potter and trying to save him. But he didn't. Draco was near happy that he could help the boy, even with how annoying and frustrating things were between them.
Was that why Potter had been staring so much the end of last year? The boy had discovered Draco had been planning to protect himself against Voldemort the only way he had available, by taking his life. For someone with a severe hero complex, Harry hadn't said a goddamn word—or tried to do a damn thing. Draco appreciated it. It was his life, and his choice on what to do with it. That Harry loved him... well, that was just a lot of food for thought.
Maybe Potter wasn't a groping, pawing dog just trying to get into his pants once he realized Draco liked boys. Maybe he didn't even think he had some right to Draco because he killed Voldemort. Maybe he was just fucking lonely, and lost, and very much wanting to share feeling alive with another warm body. A warm body he had apparently had feelings for since last year.
Harry was sitting across the table, Draco noticed with a start, a hand just now pushing into his aura of awareness. Draco slowly ran his hand over the table, stopping as his fingertips found Harry's. “Let me know when you're ready to go.”
Harry's fingers brushed over his hand, but Draco resolved to stay and not react angrily like he kept doing. Because he wasn't that angry that Harry insisted on touching him, he realized. He was more angry that he wouldn't be able to have it always. Every touch was intense, hot and wild, and it made Draco jump, finding it difficult to deal with the madness it always seemed to drive him towards. And it would soon be taken away. Harry would be brought back, go on with his life as the savior of everything, and Draco would continue on his path of numbness, no more wild sparks to make him feel alive.
Harry's hand stilled, resting lightly on Draco's, and with wicked impulse Draco pulled and smacked his hand over the boy's. “How the hell did you beat snakehead with reflexes like that, hmm? I can't even see you.”
He felt Harry's hand twitch, getting ready to strike, and Draco pulled his hand away, smiling. “Too slow—hey!” Harry had grabbed his wrist in his surprisingly strong grip, and was slowly pulling it back towards him.
“Don't be a poor loser, Potter... ah...” Lashes lowering, Draco felt breath suddenly warming his fingers, words mumbling into his hand. He used his other hand to push the parchment and quill towards Harry, but the boy didn't seem interested, lips pressing into Draco's fingertips next. Draco took a shaky breath, eyes flitting around the Great Hall, which was now empty of other people.
So, when Harry just happened to start nipping at one of his fingers, Draco wasn't too concerned with being seen gasping, hand hanging in the air like a weirdo. He wondered what Harry's expression was, if it was intent on the fingers he was gently biting, or on Draco's face, watching him react. It was frustrating not to know, not to see the boy at all.
“Oh... oh, okay... I don't know if...” Draco trailed off, Harry's tongue suddenly slipping around his fingers, pulling two digits into his hot mouth and sucking down, tongue lapping further to reach his palm. Maybe Potter was just a fucking dog trying to hump his leg every moment. Draco could feel his teeth, the brush of the roof of his mouth, and then the flat of his tongue, with absolutely nothing in front of him. He was torn between the damn delicious sensation and the bizarreness of it all.
Swallowing, he closed his eyes, carefully pulling his trapped finger out of Harry's mouth, feeling the warm swell of flesh when he pressed into Harry's lips and lingered. He could not see the saliva, but could feel it. Such an odd thing, to be almost as if at the cusp of a window, with no way to see the other side, but still, just so close. With his eyes closed, it was far more real, as if Harry was just on the other side of his eyelids and licking his hand like some perverted deviant.
That it was an absolute turn on was likely more a problem of Draco's than anything to do with the continued fact that Potter was totally messed up. Draco slowly extracted his hand from Harry's, letting it fall to the table again. He opened his eyes, for all their information revealing he was completely alone in the room. “Come on, Potter. Let's get you fixed up already.”
- 5
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- 7
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Intangible