Warnings: Sexual themes, SLASH, A bit of OOC-ness on Harry's part.
Special thanks to: Meg (Arabella) for beta-ing :::big smile::
This is the last time I'm warning you. SLASH AHEAD! That means two guys who are attracted to each other. If you do not like this type of thing then do not read any further! If you do, then you are just sick and if you flame me for writing slash, you should have heeded this warning. That means YOU, buster. It's your own fault for reading something I've already warned you against.
If you are going to criticize me for something OTHER than the fact that I have homosexual content in my fic, then do it CONSTRUCTIVELY. Don't say you hate it. Say WHY you hate it. It only takes a few more seconds. I'm sure your brain can handle that.
E-mail me at sabrinaamy@hotmail.com with comments, suggestions, feedback of any type WITHIN REASON. Okay now, enjoy!
Love,
Siara
Damn him, why did he have to be so beautiful? Sparkling eyes, like wet
jewels, they seemed to emit their own brand of moonlight and magic. Fingers so
long and slim and delicate. He could only imagine how good it would feel,
sensitive skin being touched, caressed by sensitive fingers. Harry's eyes glazed
over dreamily at the very thought.
"Harry, Harry, did you hear a word I said?" Ron asked, wildly waving his
hands in front of Harry's face. His freckles stood out sharper than usual,
perhaps because he paled rather than reddened when he was excited.
"Sorry Ron, what did you say?" Harry apologized and turned curious green eyes
upon his friend.
"I'm going to do it."
"Do what?"
Ron heaved an exasperated sigh, "I'm going to accept Malfoy's challenge to a
wizard duel."
Harry simply stared.
"I want you to be my second."
There was complete silence in the empty common room.
Ron let out an explosive breath, "Well say something, dammit!"
Slowly, choosing his words as carefully as any teenage boy could, Harry said,
"I'm certainly honored, but are you sure Malfoy is worth the trouble?"
Ron simply stared, uncomprehending.
Harry tried again. "I mean --" Ron cut his friend off.
"Are you actually trying to convince me not to thrash Malfoy
when I finally have the chance to?"
Silence, then weakly, "We could get into trouble . . ."
"It'll be worth it!"
"Fine then, you are my best friend after all. Just be glad Hermione
isn't here to disapprove." A pause. "Of course, I wouldn't mind seeing
Malfoy get what's coming either."
Mutual giddy laughter.
*******************************
Whispering. "It's almost midnight."
"I know."
"He did say to meet at the edge of the Forest, right?"
Silence.
"Ron, are you listening to me?"
"Shhhh. Look, see that short shadow, with the big one behind it?"
"It's dark, Ron, there are lots of shadows."
Exasperated. "The human shaped one!"
"Oh, I think I see the moonlight shining off the short one."
"It's Malfoy alright, no one else has hair that blond, not even girls."
Nudge. "Maybe veelas though, huh Ron?"
"Shut up." Embarrassed fidgeting.
"Here they come."
"Weasely! I see you haven't chickened out . . . yet."
"Stuff it, Malfoy."
"You brought Potter with you too!" Fake delight. "Is he here to whine when
you lose?"
"You're the one who's going to lose!"
"Somehow, I doubt that."
Shuffling noises.
"Okay, now Goyle will count to three, and then we begin."
Under breath, "D'you think he can count to three, Harry?"
"Stop mumbling, Weasely."
"I'm not. Besides, I don't trust Goyle to count to three."
"Fine, I'll count to three."
"No, I want Harry to count."
"Same problem."
"Well, I'm not trusting you to count."
Sarcastically, "Why don't we go back to Hogwarts and get Dumbledore to
count?"
Sigh. "Why don't you two just count together."
"Why don't you mind your own business, Potter."
"This is my business. I'm Ron's second."
"We all know he's going to need one."
"That's IT! Start counting, NOW or I'll curse you before you can
blink!"
Bored sigh. Together, "One . . . T--"
"Look out Ron!"
A loud BANG.
Silence.
"Oh my god . . ."
"Is he . . ."
". . . I - I . . . Draco!"
Sound of deadweight being cradled in shaking hands. Slight sniffling sounds.
Thump.
"Y-you're going to pay for this!"
"Get off of me Goyle!"
"Let him go!"
Sounds of struggling, bone hitting flesh.
"Stupefy!"
Silence.
More silence.
Nervous glances. "I think that was the most I've ever heard Goyle say . . .
aside from grunting. Nice spell."
"It was the first one I could think of while trying to pull him off of you."
"Thanks, Harry."
"Your welcome, Ron. But I think Malfoy is --"
"Yeah, looks like."
"Aren't you worried? He looks dead!"
"Naw, I can see him breathing. Little prat deserves it for trying to curse me
before we even said two."
Poking with toe.
"Ron, I think you really knocked him out cold. What kind of spell did you
use?"
"Well actually . . . I was trying to make him regurgitate slugs, but my wand
sometimes goes on the blitz. In any case, the spell that did come out
seems to be working just fine."
"How long do you think it will last?"
"Don't care. Let's go."
Pause. "Yeah. Okay, let's go."
********************
//God I'm so stupid, why am I going back?// Harry thought as he crept out of
his dormitory, past a sleeping Ron. He tiptoed past the Fat Lady, sheltered by
his Invisibility Cloak, through the corridors, down a few flights of flying
stairs and one flight of creaking stairs, out of the Hogwarts Castle. In far too
short a time, he was back beside the sleeping beauty. //Why do I have such a
fascination with him? I can't explain it. Something just draws me to him. It's
like a little voice in my head saying, "This is your chance. It's night. No one
can see you. He's unconscious. No one will know." And I actually
listen to it! I can't help it//
He nudged his nemesis with his foot. The wizard lying there made no response.
He squatted down beside his object of obsession, reaching out a wary hand to
smooth back the strands of fine hair. The smell of dew-tipped grass and hastily
eaten chocolate mixed into a faint but alluring aroma. Harry felt vaguely
hungry. His fingers moved of their own accord, to touch the expensive robes with
a light caress. The hand traveled down, down, down, despite his efforts
to stop this traitor of an appendage which seemed to enjoy defying him.
Draco emitted a faint noise, which might or might not have been a moan.
Harry, finding his body once again in his control, jerked his hands back. A
horrified expression crossed his face and remained there until he realized that
Draco was sound asleep and not about to wake up anytime soon. Growing
inexplicably bolder, Harry's hands followed the cut of silk material, found all
of the hidden buttons and undid them with frightening dexterity. His fingers
burrowed their way into the warmth of a shirt-covered chest, moving with easy,
regular breathing. The hands, to their owner's horror, slid deftly under the
thin fabric and came eagerly into contact with warm, bare skin. They trembled
slightly, almost sweating from excitement (as much as mere hands can get
excited) and plunged upwards, pushing the shirt up in the process. It was
a testament to the strength of Ron's accidental spell that Draco did not
immediately wake up indignantly. Instead, the Slytherin began to talk in his
sleep.
"Higher," he mumbled.
The single word almost scared his benefactor out of his skin. Harry froze,
then relaxed about a hair when he realized that Draco was still asleep. Taking a
deep breath to calm himself, he complied. The hands (Harry could no longer think
of them as his hands on account of what they were doing) went up. They
kneaded Malfoy's hot skin and drew little circles and triangles on his chest.
This time, the moan was unmistakable.
"Now - now my nipples."
When Harry ignored him, Malfoy arched his back and groaned. "Pinch them." Now
that was a true testament to the strength of Ron's magic. Harry pinched
them.
"Ohhhhh."
Harry smirked for the first time that day, and withdrew his hands. He placed
them on his knees, kneeled, and bent over Draco's face. The soft, pink mouth was
slightly open, the cheeks flushed a matching color. He stroked a butterfly touch
along the curve of that downy cheek.
"Beautiful," he murmured, beyond caring how wrong the word was, considering
who it was for and who it had come from.
Draco began muttering incoherently, Harry strained to catch some of the
words. "Please . . . want you . . . touch me . . . love . . . Severus." Harry
pulled back so fast that his head swam. He felt as if he'd been slapped in the
face, but in a way that made him feel distinctly nauseous. //Snape?//
Quickly and gently, Harry rebuttoned and smoothed down Draco's clothes. Then he
went to find a quiet spot to retch. He wasn't sure (and didn't want to know) if
it was because Malfoy wanted a teacher, or because Malfoy didn't want
him. Even after he'd made him moan and strain beneath his touch. But of
course, Malfoy didn't know whose hands had been uncontrollably all
over him. It was probably better that way. //At least I'll have some
interesting blackmail to use against him if I ever need to// Harry thought,
somewhat bitterly. //Snape?!!?//
TBC . . . (if anyone likes it or if I feel like writing more anyway)
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