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Hollowed	By : dirtydarella Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6986 -:- 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.

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Hollowed: Chapter One

Notes: This is for dumbledude (on LJ) who�s original request was: First kiss, Draco top, dominant and has joined the order, Harry bottom, sex up against a wall, maybe a feast and some drunkness and no "out of character". In addition she asked for ominous POV, so its my first try at that.

****

Back at the Manor, Draco would hide for weeks in his room, only leaving when the bathroom became an absolute necessity. Really, he could make it through the day merely venturing out two or three times, considering the house elves would bring him food.

Draco flopped down on his new bed, still half surprised that he had even been granted a room at the Order Headquarters � what with the blatant shows of distrust from everyone’s glaring eyes and twitching wands. He didn’t particularly trust any of them either, but at least he didn’t think they would wake him up in the middle of the night and torture him just for fun. Nevertheless, he felt unexplainably safe at Grimmauld place because of all the goody-goody Gryffindors running around. Even so, he left his room as little as possible, scheduling the times he went down to eat at moments he was unlikely to run into people. Which, of course, was the reason he was currently awake at two in the morning, ignoring the way his stomach groaned in hunger.

“Not much longer,” he mumbled to himself. Over his first week here, he discovered that people could usually be found in the kitchen eating ‘diner’ as late as one in the morning. Just to be cautious, Draco would wait until two thirty before heading down. The only problem was that when he had gone down earlier today, he had seen Weasley munching sandwiches happily with his sister and had to sneak away, deciding to come back later. He’d seen the way Weasley ate like an animal, and approaching him in such a state when Draco was already not in the gits good graces probably wouldn’t be wise.

In short he hadn’t eaten anything today.

His index finger traced over the shinny red skin on his right hand, placed right on his thumb joint. When he had tried to use the muggle things in the kitchen, the big one with the spiraling metal had burned him. He should have know it was going to be hot, since it had changed color, but he just hadn’t thought about why the muggles would have it change from black to orangeish red. Somehow the metal had been hot, really hot, as if it had been submerged in fire. That was the last time he tried using the devices in the kitchen.

His stomach grumbled again and he placed his hands on it, pushing down as if to squash his hunger entirely. It didn’t work, of course, and seemed to make the ache even worse. As frustration began bubbling up inside of him, he rolled over and tried not to think about the fact that he was tiered, hungry, and had a piercing headache.

Fuck it, there probably wasn’t anyone in the kitchen now anyway.

He carefully made his way downstairs, weary of his squeaky doorknob and the creaking spots of the hallway floor. If Grimmauld place looked spooky in the day, it was nothing compared to night. The few ever-lasting candles that dimly lit the hallways stretched flickering shadows across every surface, dancing menacingly in the corners.

Coming upon the kitchen, he groaned in annoyance at spotting the strip of light under the door. Merlin, he couldn’t catch a break. Why the fuck couldn’t the Order members just all eat at the same bloody time every day? He really needed to look into bribing that ugly looking house elf that crept around the place mumbling to itself all the time.

He was half turned around, fully ready to head back upstairs to try and wait it out when a flutter of curiosity ran through his body � who the fuck was getting in his way of eating this time? Careful to stay quiet, he tiptoed over and pushed the door open, just enough to peak in, but as his unfortunate luck tended to go, the door hinges creaked.

Harry looked up when he heard the metallic moaning, alerting him to someone else's presence. Thinking Ron or maybe one of the twins had come down for a late night snack, he certainly wasn’t expecting to see a set of startled gray eyes fixed on him. They stared at each other dumbly for a few seconds, until Malfoy broke the silence.

“It just had to be you, didn’t it, Potter?”

Harry raised a brow, thinking there might have been more to that question than was on the surface. After the initial shock of seeing Malfoy-The-Recluse out in the open, he was startled to see how skinny he was. Before he could stop himself, his eyes were giving the blonde a once-over.

“Never mind,” Draco said after a beat of uncomfortable silence. “I’m going back upstairs.”

“Wait,” Harry said quietly. Looking at how concave Malfoy’s checks had become while his skin had turned an ashen color, something unpleasant twisted inside his gut. It wasn’t guilt, he told himself. What did he have to be guilty about? After all, it had been his word in the end that had convinced the other Order members to let Malfoy stay here rather then be turned over to Azkaban � a fate to rot away in a cell with his parents.

It hadn’t been that bad, either. Malfoy had made himself scarce fore the most part. Not even Ron could complain about the git since he never actually saw him.

Harry realized Malfoy was looking at him expectantly, so after fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he motioned for him to enter. “If you’re hungry, then come and eat. I won’t stop you.”

Malfoy looked hesitant for a moment, then lifted his chin and strode in like he owned the place. Harry recognized it for what it was, a damaged mask Malfoy would wear once in a while, cracked and weak. It had been that mask he had seen covering the terror in Malfoy’s eyes when he practically threw himself down at Harry’s feet a week ago. Weather he liked the Slytherin or not, Malfoy was a broken person, and Harry couldn’t stand broken people.

Draco’s treacherous eyes, despite his efforts to stop them, looked longingly at the steaming pasta on Potter’s plat. It was probably Egg pasta, since it was slathered in the most delicious looking meat sauce that he had ever laid eyes on. Merlin, Potter had even made himself a piece of cheese bread.

“Er...” Potter said, feeling awkward as he looked down at his own food, but before he could say more Draco waved a hand and started for the cupboards. He opened one and pulled out the box of dry cereal � the only bloody thing he knew how to ‘make’. He grabbed a bowl wishing, not for the first time, he had the knowledge to use the muggle devices in the kitchen.

His wand had been taken away from him as one of the requirements for him to be sheltered here. At least it had been entrusted to Granger, who he thought might have enough moral conscious not to snap it like anyone else would have. Hopefully she would hide it from the Weasel family, he was pretty sure they were all conspiring to get him.

“Malfoy,” Potter said, startling him as his hand flipped open the top of the box, the red skin on his thumb stinging as the cardboard scrapped against the burn. “So you’re the one who’s been eating all of Hermione’s cereal.”

Draco froze, an inexplicable whimper squirming in the back of his throat. He’d thought that the food was all up for grabs; he hadn’t realized it belonged to specific people. Now what the fuck was he going to eat? He shoved the box away and turned to Potter, sneering. “I didn’t know it was hers.”

“It doesn’t really matter, she’s convinced it’s Ron eating it.”

Draco stared down at the box for a moment before shrugging and reaching for his bowl.

“Er...” Potter said, then frowned. Draco glanced over his shoulder, doing nothing to hide his annoyance.

“What?”

“Don’t you want something, I don’t know, a little more hearty?”

Without his permission, Draco’s eyes glanced down at the meal in front of Potter before he shrugged again, making sure his sleeve covered the burn on his hand. He wasn’t about to go and let Potter know he couldn’t figure out the muggle’s barbaric cooking things.

There was something about Malfoy that Harry just couldn’t shake. When he noticed the blonde eyeing up his food he sighed internally, already half disgusted with the thought of what he was going to do. He pushed his plate out and stood. “Here, have mine. I haven’t touched it yet.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Malfoy snapped, eyes still glued to the plate of food and Harry almost laughed despite himself.

“Don’t be difficult. I’d be willing to bet you have no idea how to use any of these appliances.” Harry shoved the plate a little further towards Malfoy, who had yet to look up. “I’ll just make some more for myself. Cooking keeps my mind off... things.”

Any other time Draco would have thrown the food back in Potter’s face, probably literally. Had he not spent the past week only eating corn flakes and milk, he would have made biting comments about Potter’s pathetic attempts at always playing the hero. But he hadn’t, and he was starving, so for once he did what he really wanted � sat down and took a bite.

Oh Merlin, it tasted divine, the sauce so rich, the noodles sliding deliciously over his tongue.

Thankfully, his appreciative moan was covered up by Potter placing a pan down, resulting in a moan-covering clang. He pulled back his selves and began to tuck in with relish. He didn’t notice the curious green eyes on him, nor the small tingling on his right hand. Later, when he would find his burn wound ‘mysteriously’ healed, he’d be furious at the brunette, but at the moment he could have declared his undying love for Potter The Perfect Pasta Cooker. Of course, he was too busy shoveling food in his mouth to do so.

By the time Harry was pouring sauce on his freshly boiled noodles, Malfoy had already slipped out and was heading up the staircase.

***

There were many things Draco didn’t like about his new room. The sheets on his bed were too rough, it smelled musky when the days were hot, it was incredibly small � to list a few. But the one thing that drove him absolutely nuts was its close proximity of the bathroom. While normally a good thing, this bathroom came with a door that squeaked on its hinges like a banshee with a Sonorus charm.

Now, if there was anything worse than listening to that damn door day in and day out, it was actually using the bathroom. Most of the time others tried casting silencing charms on it’s rusted hinges, trying to mask the groaning metal scrapping metal, but in a pureblooded house as ancient like this, magic didn’t stick so well. The house, even down to its rusty hinges repelled the pathetic attempts of The Order to change it in any way.

Draco couldn’t even try, although he suspected that that house wouldn’t reject him. He was a child of this house, a master of it. The magic in his blood would be recognized, if only he had a wand to try. But without a wand he had no way of finding out, so he had to settle for the hinges crying out every time he even looked a the door.

The only thing that was worse than the squeaking hinges, was the fact that years of steam had caused the actual wood of the door to bow. Even though it was possible to latch it close and lock it with a bolt someone had installed, there was still a visible gap at each side, taking away any purpose for the door giving them privacy. Although he was no ashamed of his body � he knew he was gorgeous, thanks � it didn’t mean he wanted people peaking on him when he was taking a piss.

There were actually four bathrooms total in this place, but leave it to a bunch of pea-brained idiots to turn two other bathrooms into god knows what and leave this one for regular uses. Sometimes he still debated using the one downstairs, but it was an unwritten rule that it was the girl’s toilet, and hell if he was going to use the lady’s restroom.

It was for this reason that when he found the house to be virtually empty one afternoon (just the Weasel mother and Professor Werewolf mucking about somewhere) he almost jumped for joy at given the opportunity for a nice, long shower. He hung a clean towel on the hook connected to the back of the wrapped door and whistled merrily as he began to strip.

He appreciated the hot water on his skin when he stepped in, letting out a small sigh of contentment. Making sure to take his time, he lathered his hair with shampoo and massaged it into his hair fondly. Running his fingers over his scalp was always such a lovely � okay, arousing � feeling he decided to indulge himself for a while before finally rinsing it out the suds. By the time he had run a bar of soap over his skin, he had become fully erect.

It had been a long time since he had had a good wank, before sixth year, and Merlin he needed one. Already knowing just who he was going to think about � he’d been having enough dreams of him lately to know when he was sexually attracted to Potter, and he wasn’t too much of a prude to use it in his wanking fantasies � he began to massage his chest with soapy hands, slowly gracing his fingers over sensitive nipples, imagining them to be tan hands instead. He pinched and rolled the perked flesh, enjoying the tingles of arousal shooting straight to his groin at every touch until he felt they were thoroughly pampered to.

Taking his time, he braced himself against the tiles with one hand and slowly slid the other further down his chest. Conjuring up an image of a naked brunette, he rubbed teasingly at the head before cupping the entire length and squeezing. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was the way Potter would like to be touched, if he would moan and thrust against his hands, if he would call out and look at Draco with�

Reigning in his thoughts, he forcefully pushed away any kind of wonderings as to what kind of lover Potter would be. This attraction was only on a physical level, damnit, and it was going to stay that way. His newfound appreciation of Potter’s body wasn’t completely understandable considering his choices lately, but that was all. For his age group, there was either the messy haired git or Weasleys, so thinking that Potter had pouty lips was perfectly alright in this situation. Even better when he pictured those pouty lips spread around his swollen cock.

Groaning as the picture came to mind, he speed his movements. Circling his fingers tightly around his engorged crown before sliding them down to the base he imagined black locks of hair bobbing up and down, twisted between his own pale fingers. Jolts of pleasure shot down his spine, causing his knees to buckle.

He pictured Potter’s pink tongue swirling around the head of his cock before digging in the slit to lap at his precome; simultaneously he mimicking the movements with his thumb. His arousal grew as he teasingly palmed his cock, making sure to grace his balls with the pads of his fingers from time to time. Merlin, there was nothing like a good wank.

Glancing down, he took in the unmarred skin on his right hand, remembering the pain that it had once held before Potter had heeled it. If anything else, he could definitely picture Harry as a considerate lover, always aware of his partner. If they slept together, Draco wouldn’t let Harry fuss over him, concentrating solely on the brunette's pleasures. He could just picture it now, having Harry gasping his name as his tongue explored all that delicious tan skin...

Panting, Draco forced himself to pause for a moment and collect his thoughts. Imagining Potter sucking him off was all well and good, but he would not imagine what it would be like in a reversed role. He was all about the objectification of Potter’s body only, and had no interest in anything else that came with it. Thinking about Potter’s pleasure was too... personal.

Still, there was something so arousing about the thought of having Harry writhing underneath him, whimpering and moaning Draco’s name as he caused the brunette’s ecstasy with his touches. He could image the embarrassed blush that would spread across Harry’s checks when he touched all that tan skin.

Draco’s hand speed as he imagined being above the Gryffindor, pounding into that body as Harry cried out his name. He could picture the brunette with his head thrown back, neck arched, dark hair spilled over the pillow. The more detailed the image, the faster Draco’s hand moved until finally his body trembled as the power of his orgasm had him slumping against the wall for support. He bit his hand in an attempt to muffle his cries and fuck it had never been this powerful before. Every ounce of energy was going to squirt out of his twitching cock.

When finally it subsided, he waited a moment for his legs to become a little more stable before pushing away from the wall until he was once again fully supporting his own weight. As he watched the remains of his orgasm swirling down the drain he sighed. He was going to have to be careful with this new, positively ridiculous, attraction of Potter and make sure it didn’t grow any worse than it already had.

He got out of the shower, toweled off, and went to have a long nap � hopefully dream free.

***

-TBC
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Hollowed