Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Potter-verse… or the Potter-verse itself.
And I just felt that I had to mention that this is SLASH. If you don't like it, don't read it!
Otherwise, enjoy.
It always hurt.
It didn't matter what he said, or how he said it. If he meant it to hurt, it did. It didn't matter that the only thing he'd said was that he had fish and chips for brains. If they were friends like he and Ron, then he would have laughed, and the two of them would be friendly with each other. But it was him. Draco. Always Draco.
Harry didn't even know when he first fell in love with him. It had been so gradual. But he realised that that was the reason why it hurt so much. You only hurt the ones you love. Wise words, whoever's they were.
They were standing out on the Hogwarts lawns. Harry had been there first. Then Malfoy had approached.
"Hello, Scarhead," he smirked. Harry wasn't sure how he did it. How does one smirk a word? But he did it all the same, and it hurt.
Harry didn't reply. He couldn't.
"Mrs. Norris got your tongue?" He probably thought he was being ridiculously hilarious. Any henchmen he may have had at another time would probably have laughed.
He couldn't say anything. What if it revealed how he truly felt?
"Has she got something else of yours, then? Who would have guessed? Potter and Filch's cat!" He laughed. Probably just to fill in the gap.
It stung, but it was better to feign indifference than respond.
"Maybe it's not Filch's dearest darling kitty, then. Maybe it's that filthy decomposing mongrel of yours."
If only Draco weren't so persistent. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy." He couldn't say anything truly offensive.
"Bit of a sore spot, that one, is it?" He smirked again. Though this time the enormity of it bordered on a grin.
Of course it was a sore spot. He knew that. He was probably one of the first people Bellatrix Lestrange bragged to about it. Harry hated him for it. But he couldn't help but love him at the same time. In some twisted part of his mind, he thought that perhaps Malfoy was only teasing. That he only meant it as some really bad joke. That they were both supposed to see the funny side of it.
Harry closed his eyes and counted to three. Malfoy was only trying to irritate him. Nothing he said mattered. He was not in love with Malfoy. And Malfoy was most certainly not in love with him. If only it were the truth. But somewhere in his heart, Harry knew that only the last of those statements was true. Malfoy was not in love with him.
He had to let it go. There was nothing he could do about it.
"Potter?" Malfoy asked, slightly concerned. Or maybe Harry was just imagining the concern. Malfoy was probably just worried that Harry was going to pass out and that it'd be blamed on him.
He doesn't even like you, Harry. He tried counting to three again when he was caught up in Malfoy's gaze.
Malfoy laughed. Was he nervous? "You're an idiot, Potter." It was almost said affectionately. That's just your imagination, Harry. "Forgotten your meagre vocabulary already?"
"No," Harry replied. Great work, Harry. That was really going to make him go away and leave you to your misery. That's why you came out here in the first place.
Malfoy laughed again. "Well I see you've regained one word. Do you even know that it means?"
But you don't want him to leave, do you Harry? You want him to stay here with you. Closer to you.
Harry unintentionally took a step forward.
"I guess not," Malfoy continued his monologue. "Though I do suppose regaining use of your limbs is a start. If you'd only be so kind as to take those scrawny legs of yours somewhere else."
He's been looking at your legs.
Another unintentional step forward.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I forgot. You don't understand English." He pointed to his right. "The castle's that way."
But he's not going to run, Malfoy. He's not going to go. Not this time. And maybe never again.
Harry opened his eyes. He was enthralled by the way the moonlight reflected of his pale skin. Flawless. Perfection.
Malfoy bent and picked a twig off the ground. He threw it away to his right. "Fetch, boy," he muttered condescendingly.
Something about that tone made Harry take that one step closer. They were inhaling the air the other had just exhaled. The lack of oxygen and sleep was a mix that meant Harry was fast losing what little control he had left over his emotions.
Malfoy wasn't taking a step back. Harry was invading his space and he didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem to care. Or maybe he did care.
Harry tilted his head slightly. He licked his lips slowly.
Malfoy watched and unconsciously did the same.
Harry tilted his head to the right. He took his time. Malfoy hadn't gone anywhere yet. He wasn't going to go anywhere now. He clasped his hands behind his back. Hands would make this too real. He couldn't do that. Not now. Not yet.
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.
Harry shut his eyes.
Malfoy's lids fluttered shut for only a fraction of a second, but that was all it took.
Lightning-fast, Harry pressed his lips against those of his one-time nemesis. He noticed that Draco was only momentarily startled.
He was quick to respond. Mouths were opened. Saliva swapped. Tongues battled. Teeth nipped.
Harry's hands were still tangled behind his back.
But Malfoy's hands were in Harry's hair, running down his arms. He pulled Harry's apart and placed them on his back.
Harry couldn't believe it was happening. He'd imagined this so many times before. It had never happened quite like this, and it had never felt this good. He moaned.
Draco's eyes fluttered open. What he saw made him groan in ecstasy before he shut his eyes once more.
Harry ran his hands up and down the other boy's back. He wanted to go lower, to caress that perfect backside. But he didn't dare. What the other boy was giving to him in this moment was surely not going to last for long. And it would surely never happen again. It was so unbelievably exquisite that Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled away, panting.
Malfoy was breathless, and breathtaking. "You didn't get the stick," Malfoy muttered, utterly perplexed.
No, he didn't. But he would. Again, and again
The End. Happy times..