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Fine Lines	By : squirrelchaser Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8056 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 8
- 9
- 10
When
I woke the next morning, I had the whole bed to myself. On Potter�s pillow was
a small, leather bound book.

A book? I snorted softly to myself. Potter had been hanging around
Granger too much.

�Draco!�

�Speak
of the devil,� I muttered to myself, as Granger called up the stairs.

�Breakfast!�

I
trudged down the stairs slowly. Eating breakfast alone with Granger was not
something I was looking forward to. It meant we might have to talk, and I still
hadn�t broken the habit of using the word Mudblood.

�What
do you like?� she was already sitting in a chair, buttering a croissant. �Dobby
and I got up early. These are fresh. There�s also cheese Danish.�

�All
of it, I guess,� I said, caught off guard.

�Mrs.
Weasley also said to conjure up some extras for you
just in case Dobby got busy, as you don�t have your wand back.� Granger
gestured to the countertop behind us; it was piled high. �I left it all there.�

�Granger, why are you being so nice?� I narrowed by eyes suspiciously at the food
on my plate. Granger hated my guts, almost as much as I hated hers. Maybe she�d
put poison in it, or worse, Veritaserum. At the very
least, she had to have spit in it. That�s what I would have done.

�You�re
welcome,� she said dryly. �You can
call me Hermione, by the way. I don�t want you to starve to death; you�ve come
such a long way,�

Now
I felt patronized. My mouth was full of cheese Danish � no death throes yet �
but I raised my eyebrows at her.

�Being
nicer and all.� She didn�t look at me as she peeled layers off her croissant. �Besides,
Harry really likes you.�

All
things considered, I should sure hope so.

�He
talks about you a lot when he writes. Not your name exactly, just in case,� she
added, talking very fast. �He says you�ve changed, and even I can see that
you�ve come a long way.�

Fantastic. Now I had Granger�s official seal of
progress, and I could eat my cheese Danish a better person.

�I
worry about him,� she said quietly. �Voldemort��

I
winced, but she didn�t notice.

�We
don�t even know what he�s doing. Well,� Hermione said at last, standing and
tapping her plate clean with her wand. �I�ll be leaving for the Burrow now.�

�Um�okay,�
I said.

We
looked at each other.

�Bye.�

�Yeah, bye.�

Granger
picked up her satchel and slung it over one shoulder.

�Hey,
Hermione,�

She
turned.

�Er�thanks�for breakfast. You, uh, didn�t have to do that.�

She
looked surprised, and actually smiled a little. �Sure,
Draco.�

My
lord, I thought to myself as the door slammed. Befriending Mudbloods. I shook my head, not knowing whether to
be upset or proud.

The
book Potter left looked boring and plain. Did he expect me to study or learn or
something this summer? He had said it was �for us,� whatever that meant. A defense against the Dark Arts book?

I
picked it up and opened to the title page, and had to snort softly. So, the
Golden Boy had urges just like everyone else? For some reason, that knowledge
gave me immense satisfaction.

It
was, for lack of any other explanation, a book devoted entirely to sex, complete
with drawings. The drawings were bewitched, so that they moved but not as
fluidly as in real pictures. In the book was a blond figure and a dark haired
one, both male, illustrating the different chapters.

Potter
was trying to tell me something, I smirked to myself as I turned slowly through
the pages and one hand went involuntarily to my groin. Dammit,
where was Potter?

So
Potter wanted to do this, I thought as I lay in bed, awake after a couple of vivid
dreams that night that did not include Greyback.

Where
was he, anyway?

The
next four days seemed to crawl by. I was bored, and couldn�t stop thinking
about Potter, or reading that confounded book.

The
figures in the book seemed so real when they kissed, I remembered how it felt
when Potter kissed me and something in my heart started to hurt. I wondered if
he would come back, if he was okay now wherever he was. I watched the figures,
half seeing when the dark haired one crouched over the blond, kissing,
touching, and fondling. My legs involuntarily moved apart and my body lurched a little as I watched one slide between the other�s
knees, length of erection disappearing into the other�s body. They moved
together back and forth, the blond one under the dark haired, the pale, pointy
features of his face twisting a little in pleasure. I could almost hear their
cries, or maybe it was just the pounding of blood in my ears.

I
thought about the Death Eaters. Father had told me what they did to the people
they caught, when I was younger and I had thought it was funny, but now it just
made me feel sick. I thought of what I�d wanted to do to Potter when I hated
him, and I felt sick. What if they caught him? What if He caught him?

Sitting
alone in the house with my horrific thoughts alternated with lustful ones. I
dreamed at night about the Crutacius Curse: first it
was Potter, writhing on the floor and screaming, then
it was me. Sometimes it was Voldemort standing over
us, white face tinged green from the light of the curse, leering. Other times
it was Father. I dreamed of the night Dumbledore died, only sometimes it was
Potter, back to the wall, head back as he slowly slid down the stones.
Sometimes Snape killed them. Sometimes it was me, and
with those I woke up so panicked and sweaty I wouldn�t let myself sleep for the
rest of the night.

��What
would you do if I didn�t come back?�� he�d asked.

What
would I do if he didn�t come back?

On
the afternoon of the fifth day, I�d just come in from taking a cautious turn on
my broomstick when something shot through the open window.

I
yelled and ducked as it came zooming at my head, twittering like a possessed,
grey feathered snitch. Cautiously I raised my head; it was an owl, the tiniest
owl I�d ever seen, flying around in a tight circle with a rolled piece of parchment
attached to its leg. The parchment was longer than it was.

�Come
off it, hold still,� I chastised, making a grab for it.

But
the little owl didn�t seem to get it, and finally I ended up trapping it under
a fruit bowl to get the message. It was a note from Granger.

Dropping in to say good-bye before I head
home for the summer.
Just thought I�d give you some warning.

H.G.

It
wasn�t a whole lot of warning; she arrived an hour later, trunk in tow.

�Potter�s
not here,� I said shortly as she stood in the doorway, not bothering to look up
from Potter�s book.

�Oh,�
she said, and I could hear her shuffling her feet as if she were nervous. �Er�has he�s been gone for this whole time?�

�Do
I look like his keeper?�

�Well
no, but you live with him. Maybe he came back and just stepped out-�

�No,
he�s been gone since the morning you left for the Weasles.�
Something in me burst and I shut the book with a snap, spewing angrily, �And I
don�t know where he is, I don�t know what he�s doing; he won�t tell me or
anyone else. I don�t know if he�s alive or dead or hurt or caught by Death
Eaters�� I clicked my jaw shut, stopping my stream of words when I saw the
expression on Granger�s face change, splitting slowly into a grin and taking on
that know-it-all look. �Why the hell are you smiling?�

�Draco,
you�re worried about him.�

�Sod
off, Mudblood!� I snapped, turning red and wishing
I�d shut up a few seconds sooner.

�I
don�t care what you call me; stop trying to change the subject. You used to
hate Harry,�

�I
am not, and I�m starting to hate you more!� I turned away from her furiously,
but she paced around to look me in the face. �Go away.�

�Now
you�re mad,� Granger�s grin was growing wider. �You�re mad and defensive
because for the first time in your life you care about someone other than
yourself, and it scares you. I know it!�

It
did scare me. He might not come back; that scared me a lot.

�There�s
precious little you don�t know about.
You�re still an insufferable know-it-all
even when we�re not in Hogwarts,� I
returned, ready to lose it, expecting her to break into a sing song chant of,
�Draco likes Harry, Harry likes Draco��

Granger
was still smiling, and looked so smirky and gratified
I wanted to punch her in her once oversized teeth.

�I-I�m
so glad for you, Draco,�

�Whatever
happened to calling me Malfoy?�

�When
you came to live with Harry I expected to find the place cursed to pieces within
a matter of days, but, you really are �� she took at deep, dramatic gasp and
said breathily � �good inside!� And
she lept forward and threw her arms about my neck.

�Get
off of me,� I snapped, throwing her off, but she stood about looking dopey and
idiotic, the way mothers look at weddings. �Stop
smiling like that; it makes you look senile. Alright, fine, Granger-�

�Hermione.�

�Alright,
Granger, so I don�t hate Potter
anymore. But I�m not his friend �� (lie�) �- and I�m not your friend either -�
(true) �- and I�m not going to be buddy buddy chummy
with Weasle,� (especially true).

She
continued to stand there, and I said pointedly, �Don�t you have to go home?�

It
was only after Granger left that I thought, maybe, I should have asked if she
wanted to stay until Potter returned. It would have been nice to not be alone,
even if it was with someone I didn�t particularly like.

I
didn�t want to sleep that night so I stayed up and read that week�s worth of
Daily Prophets � rubbish though it was � scanning carefully for news of any
deaths or mishaps that could possible be connected to Potter.

Dawn
was breaking and the birds were starting to sing when my eyelids felt
unbearably heavy and my head even heavier. I�d read the same line three times
but didn�t remember what it said, dreading going to sleep, but my face fell
forward onto the paper spread over the table. It felt blessedly cool and
restful under my cheek, and I fell asleep.

�Malfoy,� someone was shaking my shoulder.

Opening
my eyes, I lifted my head slowly, groaning.

�You
have newsprint all over one side of your face.�

It
was Potter. I was so glad my heart seemed to get too big for my chest, but all
I could do was open my mouth once or twice and say, �My neck hurts.�

Potter
smiled, and kissed me.

�Sorry
I was gone so long.�

�You
should be sorry,� I said crossly, rubbing one shoulder and surveying him for
damage. �Kiss me again.�

He
did. �You look terrible,� he said.

�Yeah,
well, so do you,� I told him.

His
clothes were torn and dirty, his cloak had an enormous
burn on one shoulder. His hair was wilder than usual and stuck out at all
angles and there were circles under his eyes.

In
a soft, almost breathy voice he whispered, �I�m so glad to see you.�

He
smiled and something warm flooded from the roots of my hair down to my toes. It
felt good to be loved. �Come on,� I took him and lay him down on the couch,
asking questions I never would have thought to ask anyone else. �Are you hurt?
Do you need anything?�

�No.�

He
fell asleep almost immediately. I was so exhausted I curled up on the floor
below the couch, intending to take a nap but ended up sleeping soundly too.

I
awoke to the sound of a page being turned. I was in bed and Potter was beside
me, his book perched on his knees. �So�where�d you get that?� I smiled sleepily.

�Flourish and Blotts.�

�I
must have missed that section. Who taught that class?�

�You
had to know what you were looking for, and it was protected by an Age Line.�

��Why�d
you�?�

�No
one�s ever�� He turned a little red. �I don�t have parents to explain things.
And�and I wanted to know.�

�I
take it you want to�� Sitting up, I leaned my head on his shoulder to peer at
the page he was staring at.

The
blond in the book was on his back, legs bent at the knees and spread wide as
the dark haired figure in the book thrust into him deep, hips motioning back
and forth, in and out�

�Yeah,�
Potter whispered. His pupils were blown wide open so his eyes looked very dark.

I
grinned wickedly. �You�re sure you don�t want to be Voldemort�s
virgin sacrifice?�

That
broke the tension.

�Shut
up!� he cried, flushing, but he was smiling.

�Alright,�
I said and he looked at me, lips wet. �Do you have some�like it says we need it
here?�

�Yes.�

�Go
get it.�

He
continued to stare at me, as if he hadn�t heard.

�Go
on,� I whispered, poking his thigh with my index finger. �I�ll still be here
when you get back.�

Potter
slid from beneath the covers and left the room.

I
watched him go as if in a trance, breathing hard. Pushing all the blankets and
sheets off the bed, I then stripped off the clothes I�d been wearing earlier
that day and tossed them on the floor. I swear I could see my heart pounding in
my chest as I lay back, naked and waiting.

�Here,�
Potter said returning, holding up a tube of Easy Slip Lubricant. He stood in
the doorway; he was breathing hard too, and his hand was shaking.

The
tube was half empty, which I pointed out, and Potter blushed redder than I�d
ever seen him blush, even in his deepest moments of humiliation. �Come here,� I
said, feeling my groin burn as I saw him moving in and out of his own hand in
my mind�s eye.

He
shimmied out of his clothes in record time and leapt to the bed.

�Come
here,� I said again as he dove for my mouth and suddenly I wasn�t worried about
what to do. We rolled and rubbed back and forth, kissing more aggressively that
we ever had before, him kissing down my neck and suckling in all the right
places. I teased and tweaked, remembering the nimble fingers in the book that
played with the other�s nipples.

Potter
seemed to enjoy this; in fact, before too long he buckled against me and
gasped, �Stop!�

�Why?�

His
support arm was trembling. �You�ll�you�ll finish me too fast.�

�So?�
I shut him up with my mouth, pinching and tickling at his chest until he
buckled and cried out softly into my mouth, and I felt him splatter against the
inside of my thigh.

He
rolled onto his back, eyes half open.

�We
have all night,� I told him, opening the book to a random place. �Now do what
they�re doing here.�

I
thought I�d pass out at the intensely hot, wet, soft feeling when he took me in
his mouth; I�d thought that it was something he�d never do. His hair looked so
dark, twisted in my fingers, as his head moved slowly, experimentally, with the
threat of teeth he didn�t use. Every flick of that wonderful tongue made me
sure I would peak right then as the tip traced teasingly down the length on the
underside, then slowly back up. I literally lasted, maybe, two minutes, seeing
stars when release came.

Potter
licked his lips like a cat and kissed my belly, right under the belly button,
looking very pleased with himself as he reached for
the lubricant.

�Give
me half a moment,� I complained, but he was already pushing my legs apart,
lifting my knees.

�Shh,� he crooned, and I felt the cool gel being spread with
two of his fingers at the anal opening.

I
gulped and pushed my head back into the pillows, breathing deeply.

�Okay?�
he whispered. �We have all night. Longer, if you need it.�

�I�m
okay.�

�Sure?�

�Yeah. Just�go on.� The blood was rushing to my groin again.

The
one fingertip pushed, and slid in, then another. It didn�t hurt, but it wasn�t
pleasant as they started to move gently, tentatively, Potter�s eyes on my face,
watching carefully. The fingers slid deeper, moving apart, and I winced.

�Okay?�
he asked, his voice was breathless.

I
nodded slightly, swallowing as the two fingers pushed, questing and stretching,
when they curled and hit something that made my erection flare rock hard. Potter
smiled in satisfaction and I cried out loudly with surprise and delight, arching
and pushing back with my hips as he sent another flare of pleasure splintering
up my spine.

�No,
wait,� I changed my mind, feeling the muscles in my stomach tighten; I�d just
gotten hard again and the end was already coming too soon, and I shifted my hips
off of his fingers. I grabbed the tube of lubricant overeagerly, squeezing it too
hard and gushing the clear gel over both hands.

�Alright,�
Potter murmured, leaning his head against my shoulder as we both watched my
hands slide up and down his erection, leaving it glistening in the dim light.

Shaking,
I lay back and raised my knees; he knelt between them. He split me wide, sliding in so deep I was sure he came to a stop right
at the lump in the back of my throat. It didn�t hurt until he moved. I�d never
been so in tune with someone else, never cared to take the time or effort to
notice anyone else. He lay so close atop of me, so warm and alive I could feel
his heart beating inside of me.

�It�s
odd,� I gasped, voice shaking. �I don�t hate you.�

�Draco,� he said shakily, looking as if he
wanted to say more but his breath was coming in jerky little gasps and I don�t
think he could.

Curiously
I squeezed, feeling just how long he was, how deep and how thick. He moaned and
his lips quivered, hips jutting forward in an impulsive thrust, a few
heartbeats away from orgasm. Raising my head I kissed him, and he started to
move, I started to move with him.

He
wasn�t �Potter,� to me anymore. I�d still call him that, but something in my
heart burned so intensely at our new intimacy I wanted to cry as his pace
increased and everything in me started to seize. The end was coming,
all my muscles starting to shiver and clench, and all I could do was whine with
pleasure, listening to him do the same.

He
finished first, fast, his beautiful face twisting, dark eyebrows knitting as he
groaned my name with two final strokes. Then he stayed hilted, hips flush with
mine and motionless as I stiffened, clenching around him and gushing between
us.

There
were no soppy words of adoration in the aftermath, as he rolled off and we
curled together, a perfect fit. We didn�t need it. I knew, and he knew, and it
was enough for both of us.

Potter
caught my left arm, stroking and peering at it in the dim light. �This is it,�
he said, half stating it, incredulous. �The Dark Mark.�

I
remembered the night I�d become a Death Eater. Voldemort
had taken my arm in his white hand, clenching his cold, bony fingers around it,
and something seared my flesh so terribly I saw red. But I�d stood, resolute,
face hard, determined that if I didn�t wince or cry out in pain, the better
Death Eater I�d be, the more loyal.

Then
he let go, leaving my arm so painful I wavered a little as I returned to stand
in the circle, beside Mother. Something was soaking through the sleeve of my
robe, making it stick, and I realized it was blood running off the end to drip
a trail on the grass.

That
was the night he told me I was to kill Dumbledore.

At
last, I had thought. I was a Death Eater. And at least, I would make Father
proud.

�Yeah,�
I said, watching Potter�s finger trace back and forth over the curve of the
skull. �That�s it.�

�Ugly,�
he said.

I
thought of all it stood for. �Yeah, it is. But you know what�s strange?� I
said. �It seems that the thing that Death Eaters fear the most is death it�s
self.�

TBC
- 8
- 9
- 10
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