Title: Tabula Rasa (1/?)
Author name: Icicle
Author email:
Category: slash/angst/dark fic/ dark humour /romance
Keywords: Draco, Harry, Blaise, Pansy, Slytherins and D/H
Spoilers: For the first five books because this takes place after the events of OTTP, so it's Non- HBP and DH compliant.
Rating: PG-13 for m/m snogging session and mature language; future chapters will probably be R because of bad language and sexual content.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own these boys even though I wish I did.
Author's note: Hello everyone! This is the first story I have posted here in an extremely long time, especially since I deleted many of my other really old, badly written stories. I believe I am a better writer now than when I first started posting stories back in 2001(still in middle school) *Hopefully*.
Anyway, this is my first slash story, so be gentle and if you don't like slash that means male/male snogging, shagging, and lots of other naughty shenanigans then don't read it. It's not my intention to offend anyone and this part of the story doesn't actually contain anything worse than a male/male snogging session as well as a little foul language, so I don't believe it will be offensive to even non-slashers. Still, you've been warned. I don't want any flames about Harry being snogged by another bloke.
This story is completely from Harry's POV, so at times the writing might be choppy, frantic, or lacking complete sentences. I intended it to be this way because I wanted this first part to be purely in Harry's head and his reaction to being snogged by not just another boy, but Malfoy. Let me know what you think and make sure that you read the mini-prologue, so you understand what events led to this point.
Mini Prologue:
This is a 6th year fic and this opening scene takes place a couple months into the school year. Shortly after returning for 6th year, Harry and Malfoy form a truce of some sort, which was initiated by Malfoy. I'm not going to go into the details of how it happened. I'll save that as additional material for this fic if people want me to expand it. Anyway, at this point in the story, Harry and Malfoy have formed a truce, but Harry still doesn't trust Malfoy. Harry insists that if they are going to form a truce, then they have to attempt to be friends or at least some semblance of a friendship. Malfoy reluctantly agrees, but the two start spending time together and Harry decides that perhaps he doesn't hate Malfoy as much, although he still finds him just as insufferable, if not more so than before. They are arguing about god knows what as they always do, and this time to shut him up, Malfoy slams Harry up against the wall, pins his hands behind his back and starts kissing him ruthlessly.
Tabula Rasa
Part 1
:::::::
Strong hands shoved Harry up against the corridor wall and kissed him hard, too hard. The boy's mouth tasted like coffee and cigarettes. Harry has always hated the smell of tobacco—before, it had even nauseated him, but now it was riveting and even enticing. His mouth tasted like vanilla cloves, bitter coffee, and an unfamiliar sweetness that Harry never would have imagined.
This wasn't right. It couldn't be right.
Harry was flattened up against a wall with his hands awkwardly pinned behind his back. Where was he again? Oh right, he was in some distant corridor of the castle, somewhere around the fourth floor where he never usually wandered. Near the Hufflepuff wing perhaps? He couldn't even think straight. This was wrong; this was a man kissing him furiously, hungrily, and haughtily.
He wasn't gay.
He never fancied blokes before...never...and worse of all this...bloke, if you could even call him that...Malfoy.
Malfoy was the spawn of Satan.
Malfoy was perhaps even the devil incarnate himself.
But most of all...
Malfoy was his enemy.
Well, perhaps Malfoy wasn't his enemy anymore, but still. If he ever decided that a bloke was going to snog him. it certainly wasn't going to be Malfoy. Malfoy was well...Malfoy was all blond hair and bony with a permanent scowl screwed up on his face. He wasn't attractive in any way and he certainly wasn't nice. He was arrogant, cruel, and manipulative; Harry hated him.
Okay, maybe he didn't hate him.
Not anymore.
Perhaps not ever.
But he certainly didn't want to kiss Malfoy. That was just gross. Wasn't it?
All these thoughts were taking over Harry's mind when he realized that at some point during this kiss, Malfoy's grasp on his hands had been released. Somehow without even realizing it, Harry had entwined his hands in Malfoy's silky locks.
How did that happen? And why does Malfoy have such nice hair? That lucky bastard.
He removed his hands at once, like a child who realised he had brushed up against the scalding stove. Still, for some reason he hadn't broken this revolting so-called kiss.
Was it actually a kiss?
It felt more like an attack, a desperate mauling. Malfoy was ravishing him, attempting to strangle him with his tongue. This had to be some new form of torture he had concocted, his latest scheme. It had to be.
Didn't it? Didn't it?
Yes. He was trying to kill him; it was so obvious now—he could feel Malfoy's nails clawing into his back and his heart beat fluttering. Yes, Malfoy was probably high on the adrenaline and power of the situation.
What a freak.
He had Harry right where he wanted him, and some point soon, he was going to make his move.
Strike. When? When?
Harry was too astounded to move and perhaps even a little frightened, so he allowed the Slytherin to deepen the attack.
Oh God, why was he letting him?
Eurkea! Of course, that was it. The reason why he hadn't broken the kiss. He was too scared. Simple as that. He knew that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but being brave isn't the same as being suicidal and Malfoy was quite unstable, barmy even.
If he moved, Malfoy might kill him.
I mean this is Malfoy after all.
Who knew what other tricks the slippery Slytherin had up his sleeve? No, it would be stupid to break the embrace. Besides, Malfoy wasn't kissing him, not really. If he was, then well, Malfoy was a horrible kisser. He kissed too hard to be a good kisser—too desperately—that is, if he was actually trying to kiss him in the first place. No, he was too hungry; his mouth was engulfing Harry's and his tongue was exploring Harry's entire mouth. What was Malfoy trying to do, eat his tonsils?
No, this wasn't a kiss. Definitely not.
A kiss, a kiss was what he had shared with Cho Chang, Ginny, even Hermione that one time. It was soft, sweet, and pleasurable. Kissing Ginny had been nice. It had made his whole body tingle and his heart had felt warm. She had been rather shy about it, only barely parting her lips and letting Harry explore her mouth with his tongue. It had been peaceful and his mind had been clear.
Not like now.
No, this wasn't a kiss; it couldn't be a kiss.
There was nothing sweet about it. It didn't warm his heart. It didn't make him feel calm or happy. It made him light headed and nauseous, much like Malfoy always made him feel; his stomach was all in muddle. Harry's mouth felt violated and he felt a heat rushing in his face, pulsating throughout his entire body.
No, this wasn't the same.
This was too ferocious. Too raw. It was too painful. His whole body burned and ached; he was practically trembling. Malfoy was hurting him. Hurting him like he always did.
Yes, that was it.
It wasn't a kiss; he was so sure now.
Definitely not.
This felt the same as all those time Malfoy had pounded into him with his fists, all those times they had rolled around beating the daylights out of each other, earning each other late night detentions. They had set a record you know, the two students who had served the most detentions in six years, surpassing even the Weasley twins.
Yes, that was it. It was so obvious now.
Why did it take him so long to realise it? Malfoy was not kissing him; he was thrashing him with his mouth. Malfoy was pounding the daylights out of him-no, out of each other, like they had so many countless times before. It wasn't strange. It was a normal occurrence. A part of the infamous Potter-Malfoy rivalry.
It was supposed to be painful.
It explained why it was so vigorous, why he could barely breathe. Yes, he would probably end up in the hospital wing after this; in the bed farthest away from Malfoy, the same way Madam Pomfrey always arranged them to make sure they didn't hex each other in their sleep. Indeed, he was sure of it. His blood was boiling—his entire body pulsating—he couldn't take it anymore. He needed a release. He was going to kill Malfoy.
Then it stopped.
He gasped exasperatedly when Malfoy finally released him. Malfoy looked at him with cool grey eyes; there was a light dancing behind his eyes. He was utterly amused.
Harry was horrified.
Why was Malfoy so calm? Had he meant to do that? No, there's no way.
Obviously, it wasn't a kiss he had already decided that. Malfoy just liked torturing him. It was his favourite hobby. Always had been.
Yes, that was it.
Obviously.
Still, Harry's blood began to boil again. Just looking at stupid Malfoy seemed to have that effect.
~::::::::::::::~
Harry shoved Malfoy violently, knocking him against the nearby windowsill and was amazed at how far they had wandered during their kiss. When did they move? He was too absorbed in his own thoughts and disbelief that he didn't realise that the corner of the windowsill had struck Malfoy in the eye brutally. Before Malfoy had a chance to react, Harry punched him in the face.
"What the hell is your problem Malfoy? I don't appreciate being molested!"
Malfoy clutched his eye protectively and bit down on his lower lip. "I'm sorry," he drawled virulently. "I don't know what came over me. I have these impulses sometimes," his grey eyes were lost behind his blond fringe. He certainly didn't sound sorry.
Harry glared at him furiously.
"Don't worry Potter," the blond continued, he spat out Harry's name in the same revolting tone he usually only reserved for Mudblood "it won't happen again. You have my word."
He paused for a second and finally locked eyes with Harry.
"However," he began coolly, starting to regain his usual composure, "you didn't seem to be too repulsed at the moment. You could've pushed me off you know. I know I've been working out with Oliver and everything, but I'm not that strong you git. You could've pushed me off, snapped me out of it," he purred his voice raspy and dangerous. "It seems to me that you didn't seem to mind it all that much. Not my problem Potter." Malfoy had leaned over and whispered that last sentence in Harry's ear.
God, Malfoy was infuriating.
Before Harry could respond, Malfoy had turned away from him, Harry couldn't help but notice that his dark robes swished gracefully, in tune with his every step. Malfoy was strolling down the corridor, clutching at his eye again probably going to see Madam Pomfrey—what a pansy.
"SOD OFF MALFOY," Harry screamed half way down the corridor. "STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD! THIS FRIENDSHIP OR WHATEVER THIS IS...IS OVER!"
Granted, Harry's reply was a little slow, but it was better than staying silent.
Harry thought that he heard Malfoy respond—"gladly", but he was too far away to be sure. Harry's whole body was trembling and he had the urge to go on some sort of destructive rampage.
Fucking Malfoy! Fucking Malfoy! Why does he always make my blood seethe?
A/N: I bet most people know this, but for those of you that don't, Tabula Rasa means "unwritten tablet" or "scraped tablet"(literal latin translation) that is ready to be written on again. Basically, Draco asks Harry for a clean slate for them to start over with when they agree on their truce. That's why I named this story Tabula Rasa.