Title:Obsession

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Timeline: 6th year

Warnings: Dom!Draco, bondage, orgasm denial, non-con (and more as the story goes on, I'm sure.)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: He isn't sure when his obsession with the Boy Who Lived became this all-emcompassing need to own him.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the world. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. If I wrote it, Harry and Draco would've done more with their wands than hex each other.

***

A/N: This will be a dark, kinky fic. It's not fluffy by any means. If this is not your thing, please don't read. If it is, please enjoy!

***

Prologue

Eyes closed and lips parted in immense pleasure, Draco thrusts in and out of the willing body below him. He doesn't even really know who it is. Doesn't remember male or female. None of that matters.

The only thing that matters is tight, wet heat surrounding his cock. Blood boiling under his skin. The ability to imagine, for just a moment, that the person he's fucking is none other that the savior of the wizarding world. Harry-fucking-Potter.

He isn't sure when his obsession with the Boy Who Lives became this all-encompassing need to own him. All he knows is that no matter how many bodies he uses, no matter how many orfices he fills with his seed, those green eyes refuse to leave his fantasies.

It is the thought of those same emerald eyes looking back at him that causes him to slip past the point of no return and fill the insides of whoever the fuck is underneath him this time.

He takes a few deep calming breaths, willing his heart not to beat out of his chest. That was probably the best orgasm of his life. And if the sex was that great when it was all in his head, how much better will it be when he actually is buried deep inside Potter's tight virgin ass?

Draco zips up his pants and quickly leaves the room, not even bothering to cast a passing glance at the person he just used. It didn't actually matter who it was. A mouth is a mouth and a body is a body. Unless that mouth or body belongs to Potter.

As soon as Draco steps into the dark corridor, the chilly evening air makes his shiver. It's a welcome change from the heat that had engulfed him only moments before. It brings him back to reality for a few moments, and he remembers that he should be in the Great Hall with his class mates. He hasn't eaten since breakfast, and his energy levels are now starting to fall.

He strides into the room in all of his usual arrogance, paying no attention to anyone in particular. He reaches the Slytherin table and takes a seat between Goyle and Zabini.

No one askes where he's been for the last twenty minutes. They've all learned better by now. The only one who hasn't is the annoying bitch, Pansy, who stands up and makes her way down the table to Draco.

She whispers in his ear, her attempt at seduction, but Draco is having none of it. He told her last year, when they had their one night, that it would never happen again. He doesn't want her. In fact, he detests her. She's stupid and annoying and she doesn't even know how to give a decent blow job.

He pushes Pug-face away and glances up, his eyes flittering across the Gryffindor table. He can see Weasle and Mudblood holding hands and blabbering about something. And beside them is the object of his obsession.

Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Potter gives his a scowl and looks away again. But all Draco can do is stare at those perfect lips. He wants to bite them until they bleed. He wants to watch that mouth swallow his cock whole. The thought of forcing himself down Potter's throat makes him hard again, and he considers leaving the Great Hall again and finding another quick fuck to relieve the deep ache. But he doesn't.

Instead, he picks up a turkey leg and keeps his gaze on Potter, thinking of how badly he wants to corrupt and ravage that perfect body. It's then that he decides that Potter will be his by the end of the year. And he'll fucking crave it like Draco does.