Summery – Harry wonders the grounds at night, in search of freedom. What he finds shocks him, but brings him back for more.
Words – 1,746
Pairing – Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
Is it always so dark? Harry thought to himself as she meandered around the black lake. Those emerald eyes wandered everywhere, across the rippling surface of the water, into the dense blackness that was the forest – with its hundreds of eyes that peered out to watch passer-byes with hunger gleaming – and then there was the most ancient tree ever to stand on the Hogwarts grounds, the ominous Whomping Willow. There was no wind, this particular night, and the air was perfectly clear, so it puzzled Harry as to why the water was moving so peculiarly and why there was a shadowed fog rolling across the lakes exterior. In the moonlight, Harry could see the occasional tentacle of the Giant Squid as it explored the freedom of its domain, chasing after a late night snack.
The raven haired boy pondered for a moment the consequences of getting caught out of be so late at night, but it didn't bother him enough to make him want to go back to his dormitory. It was just so cramped that he felt caged. It was not Harry's spirit to be confined like an animal. He needed air. He needed his own space. That was why he loved flying so much. The feel of the wind as it ripped through his hair, the sting of rain as it pelted his face, but oddly enough, he loved the feel of cold air. The way it went straight through his body like a knife through butter. He loved it. Closing his eyes he could feel the icy wind of his imaginary December air as it cut through the thin tee shirt he wore. Unfortunately, that distinct frozen air was still three months away.
Actually, Harry thought to himself, it's only two months away. He was right, of course. It was already late into October, Halloween was three days away. Harry adored Halloween. But, especially the way the Muggles celebrated it. It was always so funny to see the little Muggle children waddling down the streets in witch masks that were green and warty. It was truly hysterical.
He'd already picked out his costume for the Halloween Ball Hogwarts was holding. He couldn't wait to see the look on Hermione and Ron's face as he waltzed in dressed in an unnecessarily long black velvet cape, lined with red silk. The outside of the cloak was etched with the red outline of a roaring lion and a singing phoenix that moved around magically, and whose roar and song harmonized perfectly. He'd found that in the bottom of a trunk in a box in some little hole-in-the-wall shop he'd been in when he'd gong to Romania with Hermione and Ron's family. He didn't show it to anyone, not yet. He knew Mrs. Weasley would reprimand him from spending his money on it, when she could have made one for him. And though he appreciated everything she gave him, he wanted this particular cloak, he'd even managed to get the price down a few hundred galleons. No one needs to know that I modified the clerks mind, he laughed to himself, that'll be my secret.
But, the look would only increase in value as he removed the cloak. He'd once been to a retro shop in downtown London called Draio Sraidbhaile, and found this shirt that looked as though it could have belonged to Shakespeare himself. It had long bell sleeves that were cuffed at the wrists, and buttoned halfway up his forearm. The material was very billowy and the most brilliant white he'd ever seen. But what sold him on it was the collar. Three quarters or the way around his neck, the collar crawled up stiffly, giving him the look of a very proper, very stuck up man of prominence, but the front was very low cut and laced up with white silk. He'd decided the white on white didn't do it for him, so he changed the silk string to a deep crimson, before lacing it back.
The pants were his next favorite – they were black relaxed cotton, very low slung, and it bother him a little because he'd have to go commando, but it made the perfectly toned muscles of his stomach and hip-flexors stand out quite intensely. It was perfect.
Then, there were the shoes. He'd found those in a vintage shop -- Soutenir Dans le Temps – down the street from the retro one. They were biker boots from the nineteen-fifties. Black biker boots from the nineteen-fifties. Black biker boots with sterling silver buckles from the nineteen-fifties. He'd wanted to wear them so many times since he'd bought them, but decided to save them for the Halloween Party – and so he did.
While he'd been thinking so longingly about the look on Ron and Hermione's face, he hadn't paid any attention to where he was walking, and had gone all the way around the Black Lake. When it finally hit him, he realized he was standing between the Black Lack and the Forest, he jumped a little. The fog had thickened quite a bit, and Harry couldn't help but furrow his brows at the oddness of the fog on such a clear night. Just as he'd decided to make his way back to the castle, and his bed, something stepped on a twig at the edge of the forest and he froze.
Someone was walking from the thick forest, wrapped in a ragged black cloak. But, Harry knew who it was by the way he stalked. The lanky shadow moved up the path towards the castle, trying desperately not to be seen. But it was too late. Harry was running behind trying and succeeding to not make a sound. Slowing to a fast walk, Harry moved a few feet behind the cloaked man. Thank Merlin for this cloak! He'd thrown his fathers Invisibility Cloak over his body when he'd recognized the man.
As a wicked grin pulled at the corners of Harry's mouth, he thought of something perfect to further scare the trembling boy, "Draco…" Harry whispered so softly, it sounded like the wind had carried it for miles.
Draco froze. He turned agonizingly slowly towards where Harry stood invisible. "Who… Who's there!?" He demanded, his voice quivering.
"Draco…" Harry called again, moving so close to Draco's back that his breath moved the strayed hairs on the blonde's head.
Harry jumped back just in time to miss the fist hurling at his face, as Draco had put all of his weight behind the punch, he fell flat on his face when he'd collided with nothing but the thick air. Suppressing a laugh, Harry moved so he could see the look on Draco's face.
His laugh died prematurely in his throat. Draco looked horrible. To say he was pale would be an understatement. He looked dead. Fresh blood dripped down his chin and neck, while those silver grey eyes that normally flashed contempt looked terrified, yet oddly lustful. It was the strangest look Harry had ever seen. On anyone.
When Draco stood up, he looked hastily around him, and yelled to the open air, "Don't even think about coming back!"
Again, Harry couldn't stop himself, "Or you'll what, Draco?" He was even surprised by the mysteriousness of his own voice. He liked it.
Those silver eyes sparked an ice blue in the night and he lifted his chin. The look on his face turned to straight dominance as he stalked to where Harry stood. It was sort of frightening, even though Harry knew Draco couldn't see him, he sensed that Draco could… Feel him, feel the heat pulsing from his flesh, and hear the sound of his heart racing. Harry had to admit to himself that it was oddly alluring.
"Try me," was all Draco said. He sounded so confident Harry couldn't help but quiver as Draco's breath flittered the material of the Invisibility Cloak. The raven hair boy looked into those silvery-blue eyes of the blonde boy and smiled.
When nothing happened, Draco turned, and strode with determination up toward the castle. The smile on Harry's lips remained as he pulled the cloak from his body, "I'll try you, Draco." His voice was still that eerie ghost of a sound as it rode the wind to caress Draco's ear.
Again, the blonde froze and turned slowly towards the sound. His brow arched, and that lustful look in his eyes only intensified, "Potter."
"Malfoy."
"I should have known it was you, just wait until I tell Snape you were outside the castle at this hour," he sneered.
"That's fine. I'll just tell McGonagall that you came out of the Forest," Harry smiled innocently, and shrugged.
"You wouldn't, Golden Boy."
"Oh, I would, Ferret," Those green eyes sparkled like fire in the darkness.
Draco was on top of Harry before either of them knew what happened. Harry was sprawled out on the damp grass, and Draco straddled his hips, those silver eyes now the most interesting blue Harry had ever seen.
Draco growled in the back of his throat, he could feel every ounce of blood as it coursed through Harry's vein, he could see the throb of the raven hair boys jugular vein at it pulsed. It was killing him. The blonde leaned down close to the other boy's face, and hissed into his ear, "Let's just keep this between us, shall we?"
As Draco pulled away, Harry could have sworn his canine teeth were growing. And they were. The lustful look Draco gave Harry scared him, but aroused him at the same time. Trailing his tongue over the pearly white fangs, Draco laughed.
"We'll keep this between the two of us too, won't we, Harry?" Before Harry could stop him, Draco was kissing him intently, letting his fangs caress Harry's tongue, and nibbling a little on Harry's bottom lip. Before he could stop himself, he felt one fang tear a small cut in Harry's lip. The sweetest thing he'd ever tasted poured into Draco's mouth, and he licked at it eagerly. The raven haired boy's blood tasted like courage, lust, loyalty, love, laughter, fire and strength. The pure essence of all of those feelings rushed into Draco, and he pulled away at the sheer passion of it all.
The blonde stood up, and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Harry." And he ran, faster than Harry imagined possible. His heart sank in his chest as his body pulsed between his thighs. "Holy, shit."
I intended this to be a one shot, but it would seem that there's more in my fingers that I thought. Tell me what you think, and if you guys like it… I'll write another chapter! Hope you enjoy, because I really liked writing it!