The stones are cold and hard against his back. Shadows slide across them like living things, sliced through with thin rays of silvery moonlight. The hallway is silent except for the harsh, panting breaths. They clutch at each other desperately, holding, tugging, pulling, grabbing, not caring about leaving marks because nothing existed beyond this moment.
It was an addiction, a toxic drug that he was slave to, but he didn't care, couldn't care about anything apart from the warm, hard body pressed against his and the hot, demanding mouth assaulting his own. He moaned, pushing forward, tangling his hands in fine, silky hair and pulling on it sharply, causing the other boy to moan in return and press against him harder.
He wondered, absently, if this would ever change, if this would ever end. He hoped it didn't, prayed and wished it didn't. He wondered, distantly, when exactly this had started. When had his late-night walks turned into this, secret meetings with his second-worst enemy. When had he first met Draco in the hallway? When had their insults and taunts turned into moans and whimpers? When had they stopped being enemies, at least in the shadow-filled hallways where they could barely see each other, but that wasn't important because they could feel each other.
(0)
The wind rushed past him, brushing against his skin and tangling his hair. He squinted, even though his goggles protected his eyes, and swerved to the right to avoid a Bludger. One of the twins flew past him, grinning and waving his bat, and Harry spared him a small smile.
He flew upwards a bit, freeing himself from the tangled confusion of players and brooms and balls. Circling the pitch, he searched for the fleeting glimpse of gold that would end the match. He saw it, briefly, towards the Slytherin stands, and raced towards it, effortlessly twisting and turning to navigate his way through the game.
A blur of green cut across his path, making him jerk upwards to avoid a collision, and by the time he looked again, the Snitch had vanished. He cursed and looked around for the player who had interrupted him.
Malfoy smirked at him, one eyebrow cocked, and Harry allowed himself to smirk backwards. So, it was going to be one of those games….
He darted forward, heading straight for Malfoy and only pulling up at the last possible second, so close that their robes brushed together. He didn't look behind him to see what Malfoy was doing, just flew along the pitch, weaving and bobbing, creating an erratic path that held absolutely no evident destination.
Malfoy overtook him, somehow, grinning back at him as he circled the tallest goal and then dropped down so that he was flying barely a foot above the ground. Harry gritted his teeth and followed, dodging Katie and twisting to avoid one of the twins. Malfoy pulled up sharply, climbing almost vertically through the middle of the melee, and Harry copied the movement, adding a small slant so that he was brought closer to Malfoy.
He flew in a loop around the momentarily still Malfoy, mocking him with a cruel little grin, and then left him completely, flying towards the Ravenclaws and reaching out a hand. He barely saw the Snitch, had hardly recognised the glint of gold, but his fingers closed around it with practised skill, holding it up high and grinning as the angry shouts of the Slytherins were drowned out by the deafening cheers of everyone else.
He looked around, ignoring his teammates as they crowded around him, and spotted Malfoy watching him closely with a small grin curling the corners of his lips. Then he mouthed one word and flew away with the rest of the Slytherin team.
Harry laughed and allowed himself to float down to the ground with the rest of the team. He stumbled a little, adrenalin making him want to continue flying, making him want to run and jump and shout, do something, anything, to dispel the storm of energy within him.
Muttering a weak excuse to his teammates, he staggered back to the castle and ran through the corridors, not having to worry about being seen because everyone was still out at the Quidditch pitch. He didn't fight when a hand reached out and pulled him into an empty classroom. A hiss of air escaped him when he was slammed into the hard wall, but it was muffled by the brutal, demanding kiss that assailed his lips.
Smiling, Harry clutched at Draco's shoulders, pressing their bodies flush together, and surrendered to his addiction.