A/N: So, this is my first fic that delves into the Potterverse. Mostly, I started writing it a long time ago to hone my writing in the slash genre… Which is also where my other fic 'Anatomize' came into play. Currently, I have 9 chapters of this written out, so it's just a matter of getting it typed. So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do… not… own Harry Potter. However, this story and plot are mine.

Warnings: Slash, Draco/Harry, Lemon

.:Esoteric:.

-Chapter 1: Threshold-

A pair of hands moved across his chest, aiming for his stomach. The onyx-haired boy gasped for breath, only to have it stolen in another furious kiss. A pale form pinned him to the pure white sheets. Soft moans escaped the Gryffindor as a pair of moist lips brushed his collarbone. He arched his back, bringing the two bodies dangerously close. his partner released him, and the boy wrapped his arms around the flushed figure above, gripping his back in pleasure. A pair of lust-ridden blue eyes watched him, taking in every sweet sound. The Gryffindor shuddered as hands trailed down his sides, finally resting at his hips. Hips ground against hips, driving out another moan as the boy squirmed.

"Do you love me?" he whispered into Harry's ear.

"Forever."

Harry bolted upright, panting and wide-eyed, entangled in his sheets.

6 A.M. He sighed. No one else was awake, he realized, resting his head in his palm. How long were these dreams going to last?

It had been torture almost every night.

When his breathing evened out, he glanced out of the window at setting moon. It shone brilliantly into the dorm, flooding the floor, illuminating the dark carpet. The Gryffindor calmed slightly, and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. After a few moments, he quietly creeped over to his trunk, grabbed a set of robes, and left for the showers.

Thankfully, he had placed a Silencing Charm around his bed days ago, so that none of the others could hear anything he might let slip in his sleep. Sighing once more, he shouldered open the door to the shower room.

Gratefully, Harry let the warm water spray over his tense muscles. His pajamas were shoved away in his school bag, and the clean set of robes hung at the far end of the stall. He rubbed his shoulders, and let the water trickle down his face. leaning against the chilled, grey stone wall, he started contemplating his dream.

It had started only a few weeks prior, with no cause to his knowledge. Almost every night, he awoke, wide-eyed and panting, and had been able to do nothing to prevent them. it had become pure torture. Even the other Gryffindors had noticed something amiss. And above all else…

He had been avoiding Malfoy, at all costs.

Except for class, of course. He couldn't afford another poor grade. He cursed quietly. More recently, those grades had been the direct result of those damned dreams. Lack of sleep did not agree with him in the least.

He quickly shut off the water at the sound of footsteps, dried, and slipped into his maroon boxers. He shoved his wand into his pocket, and cracked the stall door.

A blonde figure rounded the corner, and halted, spotting the Gryffindor. The boy sneered, "Morning, Potter."

Harry fully opened the door, irritation etched into his face, "Malfoy."

"Relax, Potter," Malfoy breathed, tossing his clothes into one of the stalls, "I'm not here for a fight."

"Is that so?," Harry replied, although the grip on his wand relaxed. He watched as the Slytherin remove his shirt, placing it with his other clothes. His other attire followed, until Malfoy was down to his boxers. The slender blonde turned, placing a hand on his hip. A smirk crossed his lips as he noticed his audience, "See something you like?"

Harry jerked out of his trance, swiveling his head away. A blush crossed his features. He hadn't even noticed he was staring! Not trusting his voice at the moment, he stayed silent; instead, turning his back to the blonde, he began to dress. He secured his night clothes in his school bag, and, in his embarrassed flurry, knocked his wand from his pocket. It clattered noisily, rolling across the damp floor a full six feet, before coming to a stop with a soft 'tink' against Malfoy's foot.

There was a minute of silence while the two surveyed each other. Then, Malfoy bent to retrieve the item. He paused, thinking, the padded softly over to Harry, and helt it out. Harry took it without a word.

Then, the Slytherin leaned close to him, essentially trapping him against the metal stall, "You should be more careful.," he whispered. Harry was mortified to feel a shiver travel down his spine. The blonde showed no sign of noticing, "You'd be powerless without it."

The thought of himself powerless against the young wizard in front of him was, indeed, fearsome. The soft moans and kisses he'd become familiar with clawed at the back of his brain. He shook his head, trying to diffuse the red tint that crept into hi cheeks. Draco simply smirked, and withdrew, returning to his stall. The door closed behind him, and Harry released the breath he didn't even remember holding.

Harry, when he had managed to feel his legs again, swiftly and silently left the room.

After the steps receded, Draco slumped against the wall. Warm water pooled at his feet, and whirled down the drain. He shivered, despite the warmth. He had some control, he had to admit. Coming that close to Potter, and not acting rashly… That's all he seemed to do recently.

He slid to a crouch, wrapping his arms around his knees pensively, 'These occursed dreams are becoming too much for me…' He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

His porcelain hands traced mercilessly over the Gryffindor's tanned skin. Dropping kisses over every inch of that beautiful flesh, he relished in the hoarse whispers of his name…

Draco shook his head violently, burying his head in his hands, 'This is unbearable…!'

He ran his hands through his hair, now loose around his face. He let the water run its course over his body for another few minutes. Then, breathing deeply, he stood, and finished washing himself.

A while later, he emerged from the stall, fully dressed. On his way to the door, he spyed something small and black resting on the floor. It was a little leather-bound journal, miraculously dry as it had been forgotten near the wall. Draco crossed the shower room, and picked it up, inspecting it in his hand,'Hm… Must be Potter's.'

After a few seconds, he stowed it away in his bag. A playful grin crossed his face, I'll have to return it later, then.'

Harry cursed as he rummaged through his school bag. Hermione glanced at him reprimandingly, and Ron merely shrugged, and stuffed another chunk of egg into his mouth. The Great Hall buzzed around them, shrouding the word.

"I've lost my Potions notes!," he said, irritably.

Ron looked at him sympathetically, "Oh, that's tough, mate."

Hermione set down her Daily Prophet, carefully avoiding Ron's breakfast debris, "When was the last you saw it?"

"I used them to finish up the essay last night, and-," he clenched his jaw. In the showers! He must've…

Panic coursing through him, he swiveled his head around, searching. There! Malfoy was watching intently from the other side of the Hall. Harry held his gaze for a moment, then looked away as he felt his stomach shift curiously.

"Nevermind!," he exclaimed, leaping up from his seat, heaving his bag over his shoulder. Consequently, he crashed into Neville's arm, knocking juice over the tabletop. Mumbling, an apology, he clambered over the bench, "I remember where it is, I'll see you later!"

He made his way hastily towards the vast oak doors, 'If I want to get it back,' Harry thought, sighing, 'I'll have to confront him…. I'm not sure if that's possible at this point…'

He passed through two halls before realizing that his were not the only steps echoing in the air. His brow furrowed, and a few steps later, he ducked behind a stature next to a deserted corridor. He waited a bit until the steps disappeared, and relaxed. Days without restful sleep really made him anxious… He slipped back out into the hallway, and crashed head-on into a solid bulk.

"M-Malfoy…!"

The blonde looked startled, eyes wide. He recovered quickly, raising his hand as Harry was about to speak, "Once again, I'm not here to fight." In it was Harry's notebook.

Harry glared at him fiercely, "You did have it!"

"Yes, yes, anyone with eyes can see that, Potter," the Slytherin replied, rather impatiently.

"Give it back.," Harry said warningly.

"Why is it…," Malfoy stepped forward, ignoring him, "That I always seem to be returning your things to you?"

Ooooh, no… Harry did not like this at all. He did not like that the blonde was mere inches from him. He did not like that he was trapped against the wall, heart pounding against his ribs. He did not like that his feet were rooted to the stony floor, or that his mind was racing back to his dreams at a most inappropriate time. But, most of all…

He did not like how dangerously close they were.

He found himself caged against the wall, one of Malfoy's arms extended above him, the other, found rest upon his hip. In Harry's rose-pink ear, he whispered, "I think it's time I received something in return…"

A furious blush bloomed over his face as he felt the Slytherin's lips brush the bony hollow behind his ear. Harry froze.

The lips moved lightly to the curve of his neck, and a tremble flew down his back. Subconsciously, he found himself leaning his head back as Malfoy pressed closer. Every instinct told him to bolt, sending spells flying back behind him, but… Body overruled mind too often.

As if on cue, a savior to his soul, a distant boom could be heard, and the roar of students echoed through the castle. Breakfast had ended.

The lips disappeared, and Malfoy stepped away. He threw a smirk at the gryffindor, "See you in Potions.," and vanished in the oncoming crowd.

Harry could only stand there, gawking, and wonder what the hell had just happened.

"Harry, mate, you look terrible."

Harry looked up to see his fiery-haired friend peering at him with concern. His eyes felt sluggish, and he was sure there were purple rings around them. He readjusted his arms, his head resting on them, and closed his eyes again, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ron.," he sighed, "I'll be fine, I'm just lacking sleep is all…"

Ron cast a depressed glance at Snape desk, "I can't wait for Christmas holidays… Only a few more weeks."

"Yeah, but that makes midterms that much closer.," the raven-haired boy replied.

Ron looked downcast, "You're right."

A resounding BOOM ricocheted through the dungeon, and Harry's eyed flew open, darting around to find the source.

"Quiet!," Snape bellowed.

The room fell silent, no one daring to move. The professor swept up to his desk like a dark spirit, whirling around to face the panicked students, "Today, we will be working on the Sleeping Draught."

He waved his wand, and words scrawled themselves across the chalkboard, "Follow these instructions carefully! An awry Draught can cause a coma, or death. Begin!"

Half an hour later, Harry was gazing at his miraculously correct potion, stirring itself counter-clockwise in his onyx cauldron. The ruddy brown liquid boiled and bubbled away happily at him. Ron's, however, was a sickly orange goo, full of clumps and unsightly sludge. Hermione seemed to be doing fine, but was distracted by Neville at the moment, whose Draught had become a mass of violent purple foam that was beginning to overflow his cauldron.

Ron scowled, "This is bloody awful! Harry, how'd you get yours right?"

"It's okay, Ron.," Harry laughed, then pointed towards their two distressed friends, "At least it's not like his."

"True…," Ron admitted, dejectedly.

They heard the doors thump open again, and caught sight of a slim blonde figure slipping in quietly.

"Malfoy," a demeaning voice floated from up front, "Pray tell, why are you over half an hour late for my class?"

"I was helping another professor." There was that irritating smirk.

Snape nodded, albeit crossly, "Very well, take your seat."

Malfoy made his way to his desk quietly, pausing for a split-second to cast that damn smirk down on him. Harry bristled, returning with a glare. The Slytherin snickered quietly, moving on to his seat, and began sorting his ingredients. Harry and Ron returned to their work, as the chatter around them resumed.

"Slimy git.," Ron muttered. Harry nodded absently.

Neither Harry, nor Ron, nor Malfoy spoke again.

A/N: My writing style is so different now from when I started this fic, I had to edit almost every sentence. :C Once again, there are 9 chapters currently written, so I will try to update once a week! So, probably every Monday or something like that… R&R, please!

~EGL