A/N: For I'm not a native speaker, I apologize for the SPaG issues this work surely contains :-)
Of Broken Souls
Prologue: The Unknown Beginning
Spring 1997
"Oh shit, Filch!" Draco whispers to himself almost inaudibly, searching for an unlocked classroom or at least a broom closet and when he finds neither, he just runs and runs. He doesn't know where his feet lead him and a few minutes later he stops to find out that not only he has no idea where he is, but that he is in a blind corridor, too.
"Oh, come on," he hisses angrily and breathes in deeply, trying to get more air into his starved lungs, when he hears shuffling footsteps coming closer to him, which means that the caretaker will catch him at any moment. Mrs. Norris pokes her head from around the corner and it seems like a really bad omen to him. "Run away, you moulted bitch!" he hisses again, louder now, he doesn't have much to lose, because if his breathing doesn't give him away, the stupid cat will. He tries the door he is standing at once more, but they stay closed. He looks around the corridor hopelessly, although he knows there's nothing he can do. It is all his fault anyway. Suddenly, the air around him moves and light breeze touches his face as something invisible moves around him. He knows right away he isn't alone in the corridor, but dealing with a ghost is the last thing he needs now. The air is still again and Draco knows it's only a matter of seconds until Filch finds him. „I'm buggered," he tells himself under his breath and waits for the inevitable.
"You will be, unless you keep that gob of yours shut, Malfoy," someone whispers just behind him and, before he manages to make a sound of protest, he is dragged under a water-like, transparent cloak with a palm firmly pressed against his mouth to ensure his silence. The person - who is obviously very much alive – mutters muffled shhh and their warm breath washes over Draco's neck, leaving goose-bumps all over his body and making him bite his lip to hold back a gasp. He stays frozen underneath the Invisibility Cloak (or at least he thinks it is one) and watches the confused caretaker inspect the corridor, mumbling, to himself or his goddamned cat, Draco isn't sure. At the end, he takes a few steps to the door Draco and the not-quite-so-mysterious-anymore someone stand at. They both hold their breaths and move slowly a bit aside, as Filch stretches his hand to violently jiggle with the knob. Nothing happens, as expected. Mrs. Norris sniffs at their feet for a while and finally they both turn to leave. Draco waits until they disappear behind the corner before he dares to take in breath freely, his lungs and throat burning.
He's with his back to his saviour, and although he is almost sure he knows who they are, it is still a surprise when, after finally facing them, he meets the greenest eyes hidden behind rounded spectacles. His sight travels over a little pointed nose, slightly pink cheeks, until he reaches full lovely-shaped red lips, now curled into a wicked smirk.
"Malfoy, care to explain what are you doing here?" The lips now stretch into an almost half-smile and one dark eyebrow rises challengingly.
"That's none of your business, Potter!" Draco snarls silently, still worried Filch might return.
"I've just saved your arse, so you might show a bit of gratitude, don't you think?" Potter says, but his grin is still firmly in place, as if he knows something Draco doesn't. He runs a hand through his always messy black mop he calls hair and cocks his head to a side, watching Draco expectantly, and Draco isn't sure whether he likes it or not. The idea that he even might consider being under Potter's scrutiny as something potentially likable sends his mind into confusion. He has to pull himself together.
"You won't tell me what to do or not. I certainly didn't ask for your help," Draco replies eventually, his voice a bit raised to make his point clear, although he knows Potter is right. „And stop sticking yourself onto me, will you?" he adds when he realizes that, although the janitor is long gone, Potter's chest is still pressed firmly against his. It's hot and moving as Potter breathes. It's not at all nice.
"Oh, really?" Potter's grin widens, but he doesn't move. He scans Draco as if searching for something and, to his horror, Draco feels heat flooding his face. He tries to avoid the green gaze, so he moves his eyes somewhere else, somewhere more comfortable, like the juicy lips of his school rival. In the hindsight, it might not have been the best choice, either. The heat from his face seems to cover his whole body now and Draco is seriously considering calling Filch back to simply get him out of this inappropriate situation. The thing is, what exactly makes it inappropriate? He's been close to Potter before. Of course, he has never been in such a close proximity with him , let alone in an empty corridor at night. He could easily push Potter away, though, make some nasty remark about all of it and get onto the familiar ground. But he doesn't. He doesn't want to. And maybe that is exactly the answer he is looking for.
Potter shivers and Draco snaps his head up. He doesn't have a clue of what is happening now but he isn't sure he even wants to.
"Do you really want me to leave?" Potter repeats his question, his eyes shining as the moonlight from outside reflects in his glasses.
"Yes," Draco answers, but even he doesn't believe his own words, "that is exactly what I want."
Something flickers in Potter's eyes, but Draco isn't able to find out what it is before sudden indifference covers Potter's expression, the smirk slowly dissolving. The Gryffindor stares at him for a while and when Draco doesn't say anything more, he moves around him and without a word takes a few steps away, the Cloak haphazardly thrown over his shoulder.
Draco's mind comes back together as cool air hits his chest, it feels as if he's been Imperiused for the last couple of minutes and now is able to think for himself again. At least, with his brain, that is. His body has quite a different opinion about the whole matter, though. He knows that he shouldn't act based on his desires. He shouldn't be there at all, in the first place. It is all wrong and unknown. But what feels even more wrong is the lack of Potter's body heat. He thinks he must be nuts, but his dazed brain is weaker than his other body parts and emotions, and before he manages to make himself shut up, he whispers "Potter, don't go."
Or maybe he shouts, because that is exactly how those words sound to his ears in the silence of the castle. The black-haired boy halts in the middle of a step and when he turns, Draco holds his breath. He doesn't know what he's been expecting because really, what should one expect from his rival in a situation like this? Potter takes a few steps back in Draco's direction, not close enough to touch him, his face still wearing indifferent expression.
"What? I thought that was what you wanted," Potter sneers in a for everyone completely bored way, but Draco recognizes a pose when he sees one. Potter's voice trembles slightly and Draco knows right then that Potter isn't as sure about this after all, either.
Draco knows the Quaffle is in his half of the pitch now and that he has to decide quickly. He takes the last step which separates them and once again, his and Potter's chests are pressed against one another.
"What doyou want?" he asks. He doesn't have time to think this through and he doesn't want to either, knowing his brain would take matters into its imaginary hands and all this would be over. Maybe it would be the clever thing to do, too. But all Draco wants right now is to be close to the boy he's hated for so long. Too long.
He looks at those green eyes again and immediately knows he's lost. Potter's answer is written all over them and they radiate some raw emotion Draco isn't quite able to decipher. Hope, maybe? But hope for what? And Draco knows right then that, as stupid as it might be, he actually wants to find out. There is no way out now. He is so screwed. And before he manages to talk himself out of it, he raises his hand towards Potter's neck, bringing his head closer.
It's not a kiss, it's more just a light touch of lips on lips, but it doesn't make it any less intimate or meaningful. And it is definitely enough to shatter Draco's world. He looks up, face flushed and chest heaving against Potter's, this time not so much with nervousness, but rather with something entirely different. His brain is racing with thoughts, but before he has time to do something, anything, to stop this fantastic madness, Potter's hand curls around his hip, bringing Draco's body even closer to his, expression eager now, without a trace of previous unconcern. And so Draco tells his brain to back off, takes a deep breath and dives into the depths of another kiss, this time a proper one. His fingers caress back of Potters neck on their own accord, the other hand making the black mop even messier, as the mouth under his opens slightly and their tongues touch for the first time. It's tender and brilliant, and the world around him doesn't exist anymore. Now, there is only him and this entirely new sensation coiling in the pit of his stomach, making his legs tremble slightly and his heartbeat quicken. He doesn't register Potter letting go of his Cloak, now left forgotten on the stony cold floor, freeing his hand to caress Draco's back. He relishes in the wet dance of their mouths, the kiss deepening with every second. It's nothing he's ever experienced and he's enjoying it now, knowing it will be over.
It is after few minutes, when none of them can deny their lungs fresh air any longer, but it feels too soon anyway. In this very moment, Draco is sure he would quite happily exchange the oxygen for another minute of this impossible bliss. He closes his eyes and lets his forehead drop against Potter's, breathing in deeply, not quite ready to let go. Not yet. Potter smells like pure desire now and Draco wants to give in, let go of everything and let the moment embrace him forever. But as soon as his mind slowly starts working again, he knows this isn't for him. No matter how desperately he wants it to be, he has no choice, really. Not with Potter. And anyone else, for that matter. He has his task to fulfil and can't have himself distracted. He can't let himself have hope.
He untangles his fingers from the black curls and takes a step back. Potter's eyes melt into his, taking in his every move, as Draco slowly shakes his head.
"I'm sorry," is all Draco manages to say, before turning on his heel and walking away fast, escaping Potter's reaching hand. He lets his head turn around before he disappears behind the corner and gives Potter one last look, bidding him unspoken goodbye. Potter stands rigidly where he's been left, staring after Draco with an unreadable expression in his face, but hurt seeps through his features and shines in his eyes.