Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, just this particular story line… So JKR, don't sue!
3 AM
It was 3 AM. The night was silent. A light breeze floated into the open window and bounced off the walls of the room. The moonlight teased his eyes, making distorted shadows on the walls. Their shapes pierced him, reminding him of only one thing, one figure. And as he watched the shadows, the feeling came back- the hot throbbing feeling between his legs. He jerked as a rush of blood met the area, his back arched, his breathing skipped. He shivered and ran a hand through his dark unruly hair, tempted to do what he knew must be done for him to get back to sleep.
It was simple enough. He'd only to reach down into his pants and pull it out. A few strokes would do; he was excited enough to need only that. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. The feeling, the excitement, was worse, heightened at the thought of doing it. He glanced over to his best friend's bed. Asleep, Ron was curled into a ball facing him. The red-head's breathing was steady; his face showed utter calm. No doubt he was having pleasant dreams. Harry looked away. If he did it quickly and quietly Ron would probably not even stir. The problem was, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
The excitement between his legs would not die down. His body begged him for relief. There was no other way, he decided. Harry sighed nervously, and slowly inched his hand down his chest. He tried to think of someone else, and Ginny's face came flooding into his mind. This was good, this was what it was supposed to be. Feeling more confident, Harry grabbed his firm erection and started stroking, concentrating to keep her face in his mind. But it was no good. He could not satisfy himself.
After about five minutes of failed attempts, his erection still throbbing in complaint, Harry eased off. As he did this the picture of Ginny's face became blurry and faded. Before he could stop himself, that face flashed through his mind. Harry gasped. The image was so clear- the thin and fair blond was smiling back at him, his silver eyes looking into his own. This time they were not malicious or hateful, they were soft and melancholy, and tired. They were pleading him, like they were the day he and Harry had met by the lake. He had begged Harry for forgiveness for what had happened to Dumbledore. He had sobbed and explained about the pain and torture, the torment his father would put him through, and the fear he'd experienced. Looking into his eyes, Harry could see no lie, but he could not bring himself to acknowledge it. He left the blond there, sobbing and gasping. They had not spoken since then, and Harry regretted it every day thereafter. Draco was gone now; there was no word of him.
The image of Draco was so clear now that Harry could no longer control himself. Without thinking, he grabbed his erection firmly and started stroking himself. There was no fighting it- he loved the boy and he had forgiven him. Harry's stroking quickened and his erection throbbed in deep surges of excitement. He felt the pool spill out onto his stomach, hot and sticky. His eyes fluttered and he moaned. Before he could stop himself, his lips opened and he moaned a single name- Draco.
Harry recovered and quickly put his penis back into his pajama pants. He was panting slightly and felt extremely tired, as if he'd just run a mile. His eyelids felt heavy and closed on their own. For now, he was satisfied. It was best not to think of what would happened next or to worry about the next night when this same torment would no doubt return to corrupt his sleep. It was enough to have survived this one night. With that, Harry fell into deep still sleep. And he did not dream.