About Last Night
I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. This is for ThEcAtIsMyShRiNk
Malfoy was a mess, although he was having trouble admitting this to himself. Eventually he gave up on trying to sleep, wrapped a warm cloak around his bare shoulders and stalked down to the Slytherin common room. The fire that had been burning brightly was now dead and cold, and a harsh draught whistled its way through the grate and into the damp dungeon room.
Malfoy ran a hand through his usually sleek hair then let it flop down over his eyes and he wrapped the cloak round tighter.
This was ridiculous.
Slytherin born and bred, his composure should be settled across his shoulders like a suit of armour. Instead it was strung out on the floor by his feet.
Reaching into his pocket he grabbed his wand, muttered 'Lumos', and crept out into the deserted corridors of Hogwarts at night, feeling his way along using the familiar flag-stones and the pale light of the waning moon.
After some time and much stealth he reached his destination – an unused classroom on the third floor. He hesitated a moment and then Don't be a muggle Malfoy turned the handle and stepped through the door.
Immediately the lamps lit themselves alerted by his presence, and his eyes swept over the surroundings before him. There was a thick layer of dust over most of the contents with the exception of scuff marks on the floor, a pile of text books that had been knocked over and a desk that had been wiped completely clean. Malfoy averted his eyes saw by his feet a few strands of silver-blonde hair. He crouched down to run them through his fingers.
Last night, only last night, he had been heading back late to the common room when he had seen Harry freaking Potter sneaking off as usual, and this time, as if he hadn't learnt his lesson a couple of years ago, Malfoy followed him.
Harry had taken a few complicated twists and turns before he had stopped in an apparently empty corridor and stared at the opposite wall.
After a few minutes both boredom and curiosity got the better of him and Malfoy swaggered out into full view to see what all the fuss was about.
At first Harry didn't notice him, his eyes fixed on an old portrait of the Griffindor Quidditch team from years ago. Malfoy recognised the dark messy hair of one of the players.
"Oh," He said, "Little Potter's come to stare at his dead Daddy."
"Go away Malfoy." The brunette did not look up from where he was seated on the stone cold floor.
"Are you crying Potter?" Malfoy sneered, noticing the glints on Harry's cheeks.
In an instant Harry was on his feet shoving Malfoy backwards into an empty classroom, watching as he fell backwards into a pile of books which slithered across the floor.
"Know something about Daddy's who make you cry, Malfoy?" Harry crouched down beside him and pulled the boy closer by the clasp of his cloak.
"Did your Daddy make you cry Malfoy? Does he beat you and touch you in all the naughty places?"
Malfoy reached one arm round and bashed Harry on the side of the head with the biggest book he could get his hands on. Harry fell down onto his back giving Malfoy time to scramble to his feet at which point he took the opportunity to kick Harry in the side, smiling at the dull thud of contact.
Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy's thighs and, lifting him as he stood up, shoved him backwards onto the top of a desk, sat down heavily on him and pinned his arms to the sides, digging his nails into the flesh of Malfoy's wrists. Malfoy tried to move but Harry just ground him harder.
"Like that Malfoy?" Harry asked, rolling his hips on top of the other boy's crotch, "Bring back fond memories of childhood?" Malfoy spat upwards in Harry's face. Harry slapped him, hard.
"Now I'm really going to make you cry Malfoy." He hissed and, pulling off his tie, strung both of Malfoy's wrists above his head, looping the material around the lower table leg to hold them in place. Then, still firmly on top of him, wrenched open the blonde's shirt to expose his usually pale, now flushed, skin.
Never leaving Malfoy's eyes, having lowered his head to bite one of the nipples, leaving teeth marks buried in the flesh. Malfoy bit down hard on his tongue, certain he was not going to give Harry the satisfaction of a response.
Harry laid a hand on the buckle of Malfoy's belt, raising himself off him as he pressed down.
"Feels like you're pleased to see me Malfoy." The Slytherin glared back at him, ashamed at his body's betrayal. Harry paused, fingers at the ready.
"Well go on then," Malfoy snapped, "What are you waiting for?" Despite himself there were tears forming in his eyes.
Harry leant down so his nose nearly touched Malfoy's.
"I wouldn't," He hissed, "I'm not your kind of monster." With that he threw himself off the blonde, tugged his tie free and had left the room before Malfoy even realised he could move. He sat up slowly and rubbed at his wrists; abandoned and ashamed.
What he couldn't figure out was why he was back here now, drawing memories in the dust at his feet and cursing the moonlight. The door closed behind him and he spun round.
Harry was standing with his back to the wood his eyes steady on his opponent. Malfoy flicked his hand and sent Harry's wand flying across the room in one steady movement. Harry let himself be grabbed at the throat and hauled up against the wall.
Malfoy traced Harry's lightning bolt scar with the end of his pale finger and leant down to whisper in the Griffindor's ear.
"Now it's my turn Potter." There were still plenty of surfaces needing a dust.