Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Potter's fantasies	By : indivisible_soup Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7395 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I don't own HP. I don't make money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Potter's fantasies
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Draco was sitting in the cafeteria on the ground floor of the Ministry, eating his lunch while staring at a blank wall not thinking about anything in particular as he saw a vivid image flash in his mind for just a split-second. He barely held himself from chocking from the suddenness of it. In the image he saw himself standing by his current table in the empty cafeteria with a dreamy look, as if in waiting, clad in nothing but a frilly, layered, maroon mini-skirt and black fishnet stockings.
He shut his eyes and shook his head, momentarily forgetting that it wouldn't help one bit. He didn't have to look around to know that Potter was somewhere in the vicinity. Draco was only half-way through his pie and he hated eating fast, but thinking that he had no choice he began to inhale the rest of it, barely chewing, and instead washing it down with tea. He had to get out of there before it had gotten worse!
In that half-a-minute Draco did not see or hear any more thoughts that were not produced by his own mind. He slowed down feeling that he was on the verge of a hiccup and downed the rest of his tea. Maybe Potter was just passing by and it was safe to ...? But before he managed to finish that thought he saw another vision, this time of himself sitting sideways on Harry's lap, wearing the same scant outfit, while Harry was feeding him a chocolate cake.
A cake, and it being chocolate to boot, meant one thing - if he did not hurry out of reach of Potter's thoughts, then quite likely he would have to watch Potter cum on that half-eaten piece of cake, or make him do it, and then it just as nonchalantly would be fed to him. Draco could tolerate many things, but that would be going too far. In his book, unlike in Potter's, eating and sex were on the opposite ends of the spectrum and did not mix under any circumstances.
Begrudgingly leaving a quarter of his pie Draco got up and without raising his eyes, lest he accidentally meets Potter's and couldn't keep his composure, hurriedly strode towards the main atrium intending to go to Diagon Alley.
Just as he was about to step through the main gilded doors he breathed out in relief as his head cleared from foreign thoughts. The last of which being of disappointment mixed with irritation, confirming that Harry saw him leave.
"Merlin, Potter, third time since morning!" he said with exasperation; his heart beating faster than it would've from just a short spry walk. "Can't you keep yourself in check even during lunch today?!"
After inhaling deeply Draco held his breath, knowing that this would prevent his already waking up dick from hardening further, musing where to go to spend the rest of his lunch break.

No matter what Draco had tried. No matter all the Occlumency specialists he had consulted. Nothing had ever helped. Multiple healers, who had found nothing, had asked him to bring Harry along to check everything more thoroughly and from other possible angles. Not that Draco had ever mentioned that it was Harry's thoughts that he had been tuning in on a regular basis. Or the precise and limited nature of those thoughts.
Initially Draco had expected for Harry to get tired of his fantasies. But months, and then years, went by and there was no end to them. The only change was that with time they became more depraved and, in some sense, silly or even endearing. Draco figured that either Harry fantasized only about him or that he was able to tune in only onto the fantasies that involved him. Whichever it was, it did not change the bottom line.
Harry's fantasies weren't strictly visual. Most of the time they were more like ideas, notions, feelings. Usually when they turned visual meant that Draco was in Harry's field of view, or when they were about sex. The most inconvenient part was not the visual one, it wasn't that difficult to ignore it, but the feelings and emotions that were also transmitted to him. It was impossible to ignore them no matter how hard Draco tried. Occlumency technics were completely ineffective. The arousal, the desire, the need... All those emotions sometimes outright overwhelmed Draco, who himself barely ever had such strong feelings about anybody.
When the fantasies were visual, Draco either had to watch everything from Harry's point of view, or saw both of them together as if they were on a stage and he and Harry, of course, were the only spectators. Actors and spectators at the same time. With Harry also being the director of those raunchy plays.
For Draco seeing himself as if straight from Harry's eyes was the most unnerving and he was never able to get used to it completely; luckily for him, it was not that common. It depended on what their fantasy-selves were engaged in, but mostly it happened when Harry imagined Draco giving a blowjob. Less so during fucking. It was unsettling because feeling lust while looking at the up-close image of himself felt wrong. Almost incestuous in a way. And there was no escape from that except physically leaving, which sometimes was not possible; closing his eyes brought nothing but emphasizing what he saw. Fortunately more often than not their fantasy-selves did not do strictly sexual things, or more like things that did not necessary involve their genitals, and thus the visual part was absent or at least not prominent.
There was also one other way for Draco to stop reading Harry's mind, but it was virtually inaccessible to him. Two years prior Draco accidentally discovered that direct skin-to-skin contact cut everything off the same way disapparition to another part of the country would. But it lasted only as long as they remained physically in contact. It had happened only twice. First time by chance, when somebody stumbled and fell upon Harry, propelling him right into Draco, temporarily cutting off Harry's stream of salacious thoughts he happened to have at that moment. And second time a month later, when Draco finally gathered enough courage to test the hypothesis, which he confirmed. Not that it changed anything.
When the mind-reading had begun, close to the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco hadn't realized that it was not a product of his own mind and had been thinking that he had been losing his sanity from stress. Back then Harry's fantasies had been nothing like current ones and had been much more mild. With nothing sexual in them and hardly ever anything visual. And only because at that time Draco always had seen himself from Harry's point of view, he had not been able to put two and two together. Only four years after Voldemort's demise, when Draco had started to work in the Ministry as an assistant to Thomas Huxley, and those visions suddenly came back and with much more explicit nature, he noticed that they happened only when he was in the vicinity of Potter. Potter, who by that time was already married!
Ever since, things only escalated. Harry's fixation on cumming on food, and then usually Draco eating it, was one of several most recent additions. Chocolate desserts being his Harry's favourite because on them semen was most visible. Overall Draco was never able to understand Harry's fascination with semen that bordered on obsession. And because the realm of unreal had no constrains, the amount of cum one of them produced for Harry to play with sometimes exceeded what even the strongest male fertility potions were able provide.
At first Draco hated the whole mind-reading thing. He felt almost violated watching Harry do all those things with or to him in his own head. It was like unavoidable sexual harassment for which Draco could not complain because he had zero proof. And who knew what Ministry officials would do to him, a pardoned convict, if it came out that he was able to read the mind of the holiest of holies - Harry Potter's?! Gradually Draco began to consider Harry's fantasies not more than a nuisance. After a bit more he accepted them the same way he accepted the weather. He was living in Britain, so not infrequently it rained and he could not do anything about it. So with time Harry's fantasies, just like rain, grew on him. And before long, without him even noticing how it happened, Draco started liking them.
If only it didn't happen in such inconvenient moments! Nobody would pull out an issue of Playwizard while eating! At least nobody of sound mind. Which, once again, proved that Potter was at least a little insane...
Draco long ago acquiesced and stopped considering himself straight, but he still had not dared to try it with a man. Mostly because it seemed that the only man he was drawn to was Harry. Draco was not even sure whether he found Harry attractive, at least attractive the same way as women. He was only certain about his own desire that Harry's suggestive or outright pornographic thoughts never failed to ignite within him.
What Draco liked the most about his ability to read Harry's mind was to not just know that he was desirable in that way, but to actually feel it. If only Potter held himself in check more, and didn't indulge in it so damn much! Sometimes, especially when those visions happened when Draco saw Harry with Ginny, not that over the years it had happened more than a handful of times, he wanted nothing more than to grab Harry by his shoulders and shout in his face, "What the fuck, Potter?! Don't you have any shame whatsoever?? Hold yourself in check!"
When Harry spoke with him in his fantasies he was so tender, so caring. Especially when they weren't engaging in anything strictly sexual. Even women weren't as gentle with him as Harry was in his imagination. Harry caressed and patted him, he showered him with compliments and his undivided attention. Draco felt wanted for just being himself and desired like with nobody else. Over the years some witches also had said that they liked or even loved him, that they wanted him and his body. But Draco always thought that those were just words, and that words not just could be faked, but were faked most of the time. There was no fakery or deception in Potter's thoughts. There was nobody to deceive, after all; Draco had done several experiments proving that Harry was not aware about his fantasies being available for Draco to tune in on. That was why he feared that one day he would experience it for the last time and that would be it. That he would lose the ability in the same inexpiable way he got it. Without leaving him any physical proof that it actually happened.
Harry's fantasies came and went. Most of the time they happened at least once a week. But, considering that Draco was able to get aware of them only during some of the working hours on weekdays, he suspected that they were much more frequent. Sometimes there was nothing for weeks or even a month or two. Though prolonged periods of silence were rather rare. But when they did happen, Draco was almost sure that this time they would stop for good. Only for them to come back all the same soon after. Draco always wondered whether at those pauses Harry stopped fantasizing about him, or that he himself for a time stopped picking up on Harry's brain-waves for some reason. In such times Draco on the daily basis experienced dissonance of hoping for the fantasizes to finally stop plaguing him, and, at the same time, to continue. Small part of him, which with time was progressively getting more and more insignificant, wanted for the whole thing to finally end. But on the whole he wanted more. Craved more. Fantasized about once again being able to experience Harry's fantasies.
Draco had to interact with Harry from time to time because he was Draco's immediate chief. Not that Draco worked for him, but because his small newly-formed, by the Ministry standards, department had no oversight, it was delegated to Harry. Through some of the interactions with Harry Draco had difficulties keeping composure because not infrequently Harry out of the blue would let his fantasy loose right in the middle of conversations and imagine doing all kinds of things with Draco being in various states of undress. Or dressed up in scanty women's clothes.
Draco knew, because he sensed it in Harry's thoughts pertaining to him, that there was no ridicule in that, but it still was quite unnerving to see flashes of himself in all kinds of suggestive posses and inappropriate outfits for the Ministry setting. At times Draco was barely able to distinguish reality from Harry's fantasies. While his conscious mind was able to understand that those visions weren't reality, his body didn't see the difference. So when Harry in the middle of a serious discussion would start imagining something like matter-of-factly unbuckling Draco's pants, pulling out his cock, and starting to give him a handjob in the exact same circumstances they were in, Draco's body reacted. And getting erections in the middle of an open office with loads of people roaming around, even with a concealment charm hiding his arousal, was not his cup of tea.
What for Draco was still a burning mystery was how Harry knew how his erection looked like. Because it was spot on. Draco had no doubt that Harry had seen him naked, most likely in showers, a small birthmark at the top of Draco's left thigh being present in the fantasies proved that. But that did not answer the question. Draco never wanked at public showers and Harry hardly could've extrapolated what Draco's erection would look like from his flaccid cock with such accuracy.
Draco did not forget that Harry had an invisibility cloak. But so what? With Draco's self-consciously-driven paranoia there hardly could have been a possibility for Harry to spy on him wanking. Even back in Hogwarts, or more so in there, since Draco had been even more uptight back then. But overall Draco did not think that Harry spying on him wanking was something Harry would do. Draco thought that the most plausible option was for Harry to pay some of Draco's past girlfriends to get a memory to see in a Pensieve. And if so, Harry, of course, would've paid handsomely on top of that for a magically binding non-disclosure clause, so there was no point of contacting them to inquire.
There was also one other option - Draco's brain constructing all visuals from basics or incomplete information that was transmitted to him from Harry. After all, Draco still did not know the mechanism by which he was able to read Harry's mind. But Draco did not like it because of its implications. In Harry's fantasies Harry's dick was noticeably bigger than Draco's. Which was the most apparent during frotting that on occasion Harry imagined them engage in. Draco doubted that Harry would fantasize about having a bigger dick. That would've been outright pathetic. In Draco's mind 'Harry Potter' and 'pathetic' did not seem like something that could be said in a single sentence, so Draco dismissed that possibility. So if all visual details were a pure construct of Draco's mind, it meant that size discrepancy originated from his own insecurity. And THAT was for sure the most embarrassing thing, which Draco was not able to accept. In comparison, something seemingly impossible like Harry sneaking into Slytherin dungeons and into his room back in the day, or into his current warded flat, to spy on Draco, seemed much more acceptable.

Draco came back to the Ministry ten minutes past his lunch-break, figuring being a bit late would help him avoid running into Harry, who seemed to be particularly horny today.
"Hold!" Draco yelled out the moment he turned the corner and saw the light from the only open lift spilling onto the black marble of the atrium begin narrowing. A hand showed from within, preventing the doors from closing and Draco increased his step to almost running.
As he stepped into the packed lift he glanced at the tableau, only to see that the button to his level was already glowing. He sidestepped to the other side of the cabin, knowing that most of the people behind him would come out earlier. With his single free hand, because his other one was holding two newly-purchased books, he grabbed one of the handles dangling from the ceiling a moment before the lift started moving backwards.
The lift did not even switch from horizontal to vertical movement as Draco felt an inexplicable rush of excitement. It took him just a second to realize that among at least a dozen people was also Harry. Who, apparently, did see Draco come in. Seconds later the visual part came and Draco watched stepping behind himself in the free of other people lift, reaching around with Harry's hands and starting to undo his own pants. Draco cursed his luck.
Ministry lifts were slow. But that had been the case for ages, and almost everybody, including Draco, was so used to it that a thought that it might be different never crossed their minds. His, and by extension Harry's, floor was on the minus seventeenth level, so the ride there, with a multitude of stops along the way, took a good five minutes as usual. During which at first Draco went through an imaginary spanking and then fucking.
The spanking was not rough and was done in a playful manner, looking more like Harry was patting Draco's naked, obviously, bum - Potter wasn't a sadist. The reason? Draco leaving the cafeteria when apparently he shouldn't have. It wasn't said in words, but it did not have to be, Draco was just able to understand the reason. He felt it. He was able to disassociate from that emotion to a degree, but partially it still felt like self-flagellation, as if he was unhappy with himself for leaving. Luckily it soon was overshadowed by Harry's arousal. The whole thing was erotic and amusing at the same time. Who else would call Draco a bad boy in a reproachful tone while giving him soft pats on his bare behind? The approach on its own was a turned on for Draco.
Then, when they were past the minus sixth level, to not much of a surprise, it turned into fucking. No preamble. With Draco once again being clad in the outfit from the cafeteria.
All throughout the descend deep underground Draco tried to keep his face neutral, which was difficult. He never had trouble appearing calm while in distress, but when a smile tried to break out, it wasn't as easy. Especially because the bulk of positive emotions Draco felt came from Harry. Draco tried to use different mind tricks that sometimes helped to detach himself from what he was seeing and feeling. But, as it was the case most of the times, it was barely of any use. Draco's cock had woken up even from that imaginary light spanking, and now it was rock hard. Arousal was arousal, and his body was never able to differentiate its own from Harry's. More so because Harry's seemed so much more intense, easily overshadowing its own.
On the minus eleventh level Draco briefly considered to come out along with two witches and go to the Ministry Library, even though he did not really have the need to. Just to mess with Potter! Draco even happened to hold two books that would make it look like it was his intention all along, not that he expected to be questioned on that. But before he came to a decision the doors closed and they went further down.
The lift was gradually getting emptier and emptier all the while the imaginary-Draco was pressed, but gently, as always, cheek-first into the lacquered wooden wall of the cabin and fucked from behind. The imaginary-Draco seemingly enjoyed it more than the imaginary-Harry.
They were the only ones left in the lift when it finally reached their level. Draco was able to see Harry's distorted reflection in the wide strip of polished brass that framed the doors. But he without looking back, still pretending that he hadn't noticed that Harry was behind him, stepped out. Even though his trousers had an inbuilt concealment charm that wouldn't let his erection show, he still decided to hold the two newly-bought books in front of himself; he knew it was exceptionally rare, but some gifted people were able to see through such charms with their bare eyes, and if one were to encounter somebody like that, it was more plausible on deeper levels of the Ministry. Draco suspected that Harry had the same charms on his own pants. With all the unceasing fantasies it was a must. There was also an option of magical underwear that physically restrained erections, but Draco hated those - it felt unbearably uncomfortable to get hard in them.
Draco instinctively was about to go right, where his office was, but at the last moment he turned on his heel and went in the opposite direction, to the lounge, where the bathroom was. He decided that working without taking care of his problem would not be productive.
"Harry, there you are!" Draco heard the voice of Ada Lovelace exclaim after he made just a few steps from the lift. "I've been looking all over! We need to decide about Puvo-"
The rest was cut off with a distinct whoosh-sound of Muffliato charm. And a second later, with Harry's attention taken, his stream of thoughts stopped being available to Draco as well. Draco did not expect to be able to hear Harry's thoughts much longer anyway - the distance between the offices, where Harry no doubt headed, and the lounge was enough to break the connection.
So soon after lunch all stalls of the bathroom stood empty, which was perfect for Draco. He dropped his books on the table with auto-replenishing rolled-up towels and stepped to a sink to wash his hands. He never understood why people washed their hands only afterwards, and not before as well. He sure was not going to be touching his dick, especially touching it so thoroughly, with dirty hands.
With clean hands and dirty mind Draco stepped into the rightmost cubicle. He did not even remember when exactly he had stopped fighting himself and began to wank to Harry's fantasies completely guilt-free, replaying the ones that he liked most in his head, but it was a long while ago. In rare times it was not enough because never felt attracted to Harry the way he was to women, but it hardly mattered after having a fresh image from the ride in the lift. So there was no question as to what he would be imagining this time.
With his cock in his hand Draco began visualizing what he saw Harry do with him in his imagination minutes prior as he felt the envy flare up. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he could not help himself but feel jealous of the version of Draco Malfoy that lived in Harry's fantasies. What he wanted the most was for that made-up version of himself to finally come out of the dream world. He wanted to merge with it. He did not want merely to keep watching the made-up Draco to be patted, caressed, and spoiled. He wanted to actually experience it. He craved to feel Harry's real, flesh and blood fingertips touching his skin. Overall Draco wanted to become Harry's secret boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whatever Harry wanted him to be. He had not just stopped minding seeing himself in girly clothes, but wanted to wear them for Harry. In his flat Draco had a narrow in type but extensive in variety assortment of clothes he saw himself wear in Harry's fantasies. A special wardrobe, magically warded, just in case somebody who came over decided to snoop, that was full of skirts, light sundresses, crop-tops, stockings, underwear, and other related miscellany. After each time Draco saw Harry imagine him in something new, he went straight into muggle London in search of that something and bought the most similar thing he could find. For years gradually expending the wardrobe. And, of course, sometimes wearing those clothes around the house; having stockings on Draco particularly liked.
He pushed that train of thought aside and tried to concentrate on the thing that would make him cum and kept on wanking, imagining how nice it would feel to have Harry's cock up his bum and visualizing it. The imaginary Draco always enjoyed it so much...
A minute later Draco stopped mid-stroke as he heard somebody walk into the bathroom. Then the door of the adjacent cubicle clicked shut and once again there was total silence. Just like in most places, all Ministry bathroom cubicles had a multitude of standard charms for increased comfort and privacy, including outgoing silencing charms that didn't let sounds out, only in. Draco huffed, not trying to be discreet. He absolutely hated to be disturbed while wanking. He needed peace of mind for that, and it was difficult as it was to be doing it in a stall of a public bathroom instead of the safety of his own home. There was an easy solution for that, but he never dared to cast two-way silencing charms fearing that it might interfere with the existing ones and trigger a cascading effect that might lead to all kinds of unforeseeable consequences; ever since the incident with his first Arithmancy project it was a phobia of his.
Draco tried to quell his misplaced vexation at somebody using the bathroom at the same time as him. He hated how he still felt entitled about such petty things and had been actively trying to better himself, with not much success though.
Enough! I don't own this bathroom! Other people are allowed to use it any time they want! he scolded himself in his thoughts. Nobody knows that I'm wanking, so stop fretting! Even if they knew, there's nothing wrong with getting off like this! Besides, nobody's going to find out what I'm thinking about while I'm at it!
He took a few calming breaths, banishing his misplaced indignation, leaned back onto the wall, and closed his eyes. He tried to rekindle the feelings that carried him until then, as a wave of other ones, significantly more intense ones, washed over him, making his whole body shudder. He whirled around and stared at the tiled wall, as if trying to see right through it, with the realization that Harry was right behind it. By the transmitted sensations no doubt holding his own cock in his hand as well.
All his previous grievances at the disturber of peace immediately forgotten, Draco resumed wanking, revelling in the steadily growing in intensity sensations, stroking his cock at a significantly slower pace than usually. His own arousal mixing with the one from Harry made it a lot stronger and within a minute he had to let his cock go lest he finish right that moment.
In the lift Harry was just fantasizing. It was nice, but it paled in comparison with the current thing. Draco just stood there, not touching himself, feeling powerful, almost burning sensations coming from Harry in waves accompanied by no less stimulating visuals. As if he was plunged into a special Pensive that, unlike normal ones, was able to transmit everything that a memory-creator felt. At moments he felt like he was about to have an orgasm just from that alone. On rare but lucky occasions he was able to cum just like that; for that Harry had not just to fantasize, but to wank. And catching Harry wanking was something that, to Draco's chagrin, did not happen as often as he would've liked. He absolutely loved to be able to just ride along.
The only thing that annoyed Draco a little was that Harry, as was not unusual for him to do while masturbating, seemingly was incapable of sticking to one thing and constantly switched scenarios. This time between fucking Draco and sucking him off. And, to his luck, for the first few minutes Draco was watching everything from a third person view. Masturbating to the visuals of fucking himself was weird no matter how many times he had seen it. Not that Draco never came to that though.
Draco was feeling like he was on the verge of cumming when once again the vision changed and Draco saw them kissing. Knowing that it was Harry's way to put it on the back burner, Draco just relaxed and with a silly smile plastered on his face and his mouth half-open imagined kissing Harry back.
Soon Draco saw his-fantasy-self break the kiss and keep planting kisses all over while slowly going downwards, until he ended up on his knees with Harry's cock in his mouth. Draco shuddered, thinking how he was ready to do just that in the real world that very second; Harry's cock looked so darn delicious. All Harry had to do for that was to knock on his door and ask for a permission to enter. Draco never in his life touched another man's cock. But in Harry's fantasies he saw himself do it constantly and it almost came like second nature to him.
When their imaginary-selves switched places Draco was simply holding his cock, with his wet thumb gently brushing its glans. Anything more and he would cum. With his eyes closed watching imaginary-Harry slobber all over imaginary-Draco's dick. This was the only kind of first person view Draco not just was able to tolerate, but actually liked - when Harry sucked him off while concentrating on the sensations of it with his eyes closed. This way Draco was able to pretend with ease that it was he who was sucking off Harry instead. All Draco had to do was to keep his mind clear, making it a blank canvas onto which Harry would project his thoughts.
Draco knew that Harry liked the feeling of a cock in his mouth, and Draco had learned to like it by proxy. Watching his own cock slide back and forth through Harry's lips while feeling as if that cock was sliding through his own lips produced a little dissonance, but Draco long ago learned to ignore it and simply enjoy it the way Harry was able to. Almost no women Draco had been with, or maybe none at all, he was not sure, enjoyed giving head. They did it out of reciprocation, turning it into quid pro quo. But Harry did it for its own sake, or at least he imagined doing it like that. That seemingly insignificant tidbit was an incredible turn on for Draco.
Draco had no doubt that Harry had some experience with men because it felt so real. He did not care how exactly Harry got the experience - whether it was in the past, or Harry was cheating, or he and Ginny had some sort of an arraignment. It was irrelevant. What mattered was that Harry had given blowjobs. For Draco even the idea of Harry sucking somebody off who was not him for some reason was a thrill. Maybe because it differed from Harry's fantasies, in which even when they were not alone, Harry engaged sexually only with him. So Draco liked to wank imagining Harry blowing some bloke in a dark alley, especially with that imaginary Harry thinking that that bloke was a substitute for the real Draco.
The vision once again changed to fucking. Faux-Draco was precariously standing on the tiptoes of his right leg, face-to-face with faux-Harry, who held faux-Draco's other leg under its knee and with languid strokes gently thrust into him. Draco had not even known that anal sex was possible in such position before he saw it in Harry's mind. He still had doubts that it was manageable in real life. But it hardly mattered considering how hot it looked. Especially because their half-open moaning mouths were interlocked in a sloppy kiss.
What Draco never could understand was why faux-Harry never let faux-Draco fuck him. Harry had pertaining fantasies about it, which were not exactly about fucking, but more about faux-Harry trying to persuade faux-Draco to fuck him, and faux-Draco refusing each time. Giving some ridiculous and evasive reasons or without any at all. Acting all capricious about it. Draco knew that Harry wanted to be fucked - he felt it. But it turned Harry more to watch faux-Draco refuse, turn around, presenting faux-Harry his bum, and ask faux-Harry to do him instead. As if imagining them temporarily switching roles would disrupt the established order of things after which there would be no going back. Not that Draco was miffed about it - those were Harry's fantasies, so he had every right to imagine whatever he pleased. But when Draco wanked on his own while thinking about Harry, he was not as strict about it and sometimes fantasied about reversing their roles. Especially he liked imagining fucking Harry while wearing at least something from his special wardrobe, which always made him giddy from the naughtiness of it.
Stroking his dick with a loose grip, barely touching it, Draco with his eyes closed watched the scenes change again and again, riding the pleasurable sensations as a roller coaster. Over and over he felt that he was on the verge of cumming, and in his daze stopped being able to tell whether those sensations were coming from his own body or from Harry's mind. So being on the safe side he constantly had to let his dick go in order not to cum first; finishing first while piggybacking on Harry's wanking Draco considered the most inexcusable sin.
"I want... to cum... in your mouth," said faux-Draco breathlessly.
"Uh-uh," responded faux-Harry without stopping to suck on faux-Draco's balls and stroking his cock.
"Please... I just want to -"
"Only good boys deserve to have it their way. You were not good boy today," said faux-Harry, underscoring every other word by tapping faux-Draco's cockhead on his cheek. "Forced me to eat all that cake by myself..."
Faux-Draco looked ashamed and said nothing, only nodded, to which faux-Harry gave an approving smile and gave the tip of his cock a playful kiss, signifying his forgiveness, which not necessarily meant acquiescence, and resumed stroking the shaft.
Draco would've rolled his eyes at that small exchange if not for Harry's emotions accompanying it. Harry as always went all in on his role. Draco sensed that faux-Harry wanted to be benevolent to faux-Draco, that he wanted to acquiesce and let faux-Draco finish however he wanted, but he also felt that he had to be firm and insist on dolling out his nominal punishment. Sex in itself, after all, was not always the main thing in Harry's fantasies even during wanking. Sometimes it was just a small part in a much bigger nebulous scheme that tended to evolve on the go.
Draco bit his lip as he felt it becoming too much even without touching himself, and next second he felt Harry's orgasm wash over him. Which triggered his own. At last! He immediately grabbed his cock and began pumping it furiously, intensifying the already powerful sensations even more. Forgetting that there was no need for it, Draco pressed his left hand against his mouth, muffling his grunts, as he painted the opposite wall with his cum, watching faux-himself doing the same to faux-Harry's face and feeling it from Harry's point of view, as if hot gooey streaks were covering his own face.
Their one-way connection was abruptly cut seconds later - Harry's climax always did that. As if the magic that sustained the transmission of thoughts was used up and had to recharge. And Draco once again was left one-on-one with himself.
With all the tension evaporated Draco slumped against the wall, feeling relaxed and content; no normal wank ever compared to the one like this. Without thinking he began sticking cum-stained fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking off that meager amount that ended up on them, revelling in the salty bitterness of it and pretending that the cum was not his but Harry's.
He was about done licking his hand clean as he heard the door to the adjacent cubicle open, reminding him where he was and bringing him back into reality. He as usual planned to wait until Harry would be gone.
"Where is the famous Gryffindor courage? Don't you have any left?!" said Draco somewhat resentfully as he heard the sound of running water after Harry opened a tap, in full confidence that silencing charms wouldn't let it out of the cubicle; venting his frustration verbally always helped him more than seething silently. Even knowing that he had a tendency to blame an unchanging status quo on somebody else, Harry in this case, than on his own inaction, he could not help but continue in the same vein, "Why wouldn't you ask something already?! Fuck, Potter, Fuck!" He repeatedly hit the back of his head against the wall. With a dejected voice, believing that he was speaking into the void, he finished with, "I would do anything... Just ask... Ask, damn you to hell!"
Draco remained in the cubicle for another minute after he heard the door swinging as Harry left. He ignored that intrusive thought, that gnawing doubt that plagued him from time to time, the one that wanted to convince him that those were not Potter's thoughts. Never were. That it all was a product of his own mind. That he just was deranged. Went off his rocker. From all the shit that the Dark Lord made him see and do. Or from that unknown curse that Potter hit him with back in Hogwarts from which he still had some thin scars, predominantly over his left ribs.
Leaving the mess behind for the inbuilt cleaning charms to take care of it, Draco got out and stepped to a sink.
He meticulously washed his hands, looking at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still a bit pink, but gradually were reverting back to their unassuming pale color. With him being alone he allowed himself to smile widely at his reflection, feeling content as the happy chemicals once again took dominion over his brain. That small outburst of frustration followed by doubt as if had not happened a minute prior; drastic mood swings were not uncommon for him when he felt overwhelmed with emotions.
"Wanking with Potter is always so much better, isn't it?" he muttered almost inaudibly and wiggled his eyebrows at his smiling reflection, as if speaking to it. Mainly because he did not have anybody else who he was able to tell it to. "If only you were able to go straight home and have a good nap instead of doing that damn report... This red tape is going to be the end of you some day!"
The thoughts about work rekindled a deep-seated germ of resentment towards Harry that lately seemed to show its ugly head more and more often. Draco hated himself for feeling that way, about Harry no less, but he could not help himself. Harry was the sole reason Draco still kept toiling away in the Ministry. Last February Draco rejected a private offer to a much more interesting position with a significant reduction in drudgery of pointless paperwork. Not to mention a different salary. Though monetary aspect was the least important to him. Harry's fantasies on the other hand... They were like a drug to him. A drug which he was not able to stop using.
Draco picked up his books and stepped into the long poorly lit corridor. He almost stumbled out of the surprise from seeing Harry leaning on a wall right beside the bathroom. It looked as if Harry was waiting for him. But Draco right away dismissed that thought as completely nonsensical. He tried to look as if he hadn't almost tripped over nothing and continued onward, but only managed to make a few steps before he heard Harry call him.
So Potter was waiting for me! he thought as he stopped. He slowly turned and looked at Harry with his most impassive, bordering on bored, expression. Internally he was panicking. They as good as never talked about anything that was not work-related. But the report was due May, meaning that he still had plenty of time, and Harry never bothered him with overbearing supervision. What else Potter might want from me?!
Harry without a word pointed at the bathroom door, drawing Draco's eyes to it and to a standard-sized piece of paper that was taped to it. The paper was not even simply white, but seemed to glow, which made it seemingly impossible not to notice. And yet, somehow Draco had missed it when he, in his horny state, had rushed to the bathroom no more than twenty minutes ago. It stated in big letters that were easily readable from where he stood: "Unidirectional silencing charms are taken down until further notice. Use your own. - Administration."
Draco felt his whole body becoming uncomfortably stiff as he understood the implications. Now he was not only not sure what exactly he said after the wank, but whether he said anything in the process of it that might have been even more incriminating and what other unbecoming sounds he might have unintentionally made. Second after second ticked by, underscored by his steadily increasing heartbeat thumping in his ears, as Draco did not dare to tear his eyes away from the sign and look at Harry. His mind feverishly worked on possible explanations with desperate hope that in the cubicle Harry had cast the conventional silencing charm that cut off sound in both directions and heard nothing before he came out.
The last thing that went through Draco's mind before Harry broke the silence by clearing his throat, finally forcing Draco to look at him, was him cursing those baby-blue, sparsely strewn with small orange daisies nylon stockings that he had donned on that morning, which were still hidden beneath his trousers. As if they somehow were the cause for his fuck-up. Even at moments like this he instinctively tried to shift blame to anything but himself, be it even a garment.
"I'm curious," began Harry with a smirk, a semblance of which Draco did not remember ever seeing on Harry's face. "What exactly should I be asking you? You sounded desperate almost..."

***

Harry with wide horror-filled eyes watched Snape kneel into a knuckle deep, pink from blood water beside unconscious Malfoy and pour the contents of a small vial into his mouth. Then he began chanting something so unrecognizable that did not even seem like any language should sound. After just a minute Snape stood up and addressed him. But Harry in his shocked state was not able to distinguish a single word and it all went by the same way the gibberish he heard before.
A sharp pain from a slap to his left cheek brought Harry back into reality. "W-what?!" stammered Harry.
"You need to give Malfoy some of your blood," repeated Snape, slowly enunciating. This time Harry heard it clearly.
"My blood?!" asked Harry, alarmed by the strange request, knowing that blood of witches or wizards was known to be used only in the darkest of rituals, and that blood transfusions were decidedly not a thing in the wizarding world due to the blood-replenishing potion. More so because the potion that Snape poured into Malfoy's mouth had quite a distinct odor, which Harry was able to smell and identify as such. His eyes momentarily darted left to Malfoy's body, whose clothes were soaked with blood, and more of it, though not as fast as before, was still visibly seeping out through numerous lacerations. Then he looked back at Snape, who had his wand out and was conjuring something midair.
"Yes, Potter, your blood," said Snape with his usual derision, not sparing him a glance and instead looking at the darkening cloudy mass that his wand was producing. "YOU cast the curse, so I need YOUR blood to -"
"Surely madam Pomfrey has more of blood-replenishing potion," said Harry, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.
"Oh, really? Thank you for reminding me. Completely slipped my mind... I said YOUR blood, Potter!"
"I... I rather wait for... Ehm... Professor Dumbledore."
"Mister Malfoy is going to turn into a corpse by then. But, why not? Let us wait..."
"I..." Harry began but he was not even sure what he wanted to say. He with unfocused eyes stared at a wall trying to come up with something.
Snape grabbed Harry by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Not hard, but it had a similarly sobering effect as a slap a minute before. "I would've taken it from you by now if for not one crucial detail - it HAS to be given willingly!"
From those words Harry had a flashback to what had happened at the graveyard almost two years prior. Which not in the slightest helped him remain calm and think rationally. Snape shook a coil of thin transparent tube with short glinting needles at both ends that he just finished conjuring, drawing Harry's attention to it, as if emphasizing that Harry had no choice but to comply. In the background Harry wandered if Snape becoming physical for the second time in the past minutes, which Snape had never done before, was connected with Snape's allegedly fictitious Unbreakable Vow that nobody seemed to take seriously besides Harry.
"Doesn't mixing magical blood might -"
"It does not matter right now!"
"But what if -"
"Potter, no IFs! You hardly have much more than a minute or two to decide before you would be able to add a Murderer to the list of your titles. After which expulsion from Hogwarts would be the least of your worries. Does the word Azkaban ring a bell?" Harry nodded. "Is that a yes to giving your blood or merely you remembering what Azkaban is? You have to say it properly!"
"Yes. Give my blood to Malfoy. I agree. Or do I have to say it in -"
Harry stopped before he finished asking whether he had to give his verbal agreement in a specific way because after barely noticeable twitch of Snape's wand one end of the tube soared through the air and jammed its needle into Harry's neck, the other, moving like a snake, got into Malfoy's wrist. Ignoring the sharp pain that no doubt would've been much more mild if Madam Pomfrey did the transfusion, Harry watched his blood rush through the transparent tube out of him and straight into Malfoy.
"He doesn't need much more than a pint, but still, drink this," said Snape holding out an uncorked vial to Harry. Harry without a word took the blood-replenishing potion, wondering how many vials of it Snape had on himself, and dawned it in two gulps. "I strongly suggest that you refrain from telling anybody what curse you used. Not to your friends, nor even to Dumbledore, if he asks." Harry nodded unthinkingly, staring at Malfoy with anticipation, for some reason expecting that at any second Malfoy would sit up and say that he felt fine. "In case somebody asks say... Mmm... Say it was Sectumsempra."
"Sectu-what?"
"S-E-C-T-U-M-S-E-M-P-R-A," said Snape slowly. "Outwardly it would look virtually indistinguishable to the one you used. And don't think of using it on anybody either! Unless you want to kill them off, of course."
Snape stared at him intently and Harry realized that he was waiting for a confirmation. "Got it. Sectumsempra. Also very dangerous."
After hearing that Snape once again kneeled beside Malfoy, put a hand onto his chest and began saying something incomprehensible.
Harry was not sure whether he imagined it, but before the words in an unknown language began it sounded like Snape muttered, "Bloody morons everywhere!"
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Potter's fantasies