WARNINGS: SLASH ALERT!! This is a fic that contains male on male action, so if you are uncomfortable reading that sort of thing, I sugest you leave. Rated R
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Harry Potter bit his lip trying to keep from yawning as he desperately searched his brain for a way to tell himself that the Divination class he was currently attending was at least some what interesting. Professor Trelawney's well rehearsed 'mystical' voice echoed around the dimly lit classroom as she prattled on about how the position of the stars gave away vital information about each person's love life, whether they would find a great love, or die miserable and alone. Of course, this was after her daily routine of telling Harry that he was going to die anyways so he needn't bother to look to the stars for love advice. A remark that caused Harry to roll his eyes, and Ron to glare death daggers at Trelawney, most likely because he thought that Harry would fall desperately in love with Ron's younger sister Ginny....
Rolling his eyes, Harry glanced around the room, absently wondering why he had choosen to take this stupid class when he said that he never would again. He hated Trelawney's predictions of death, which had been awe-inspiring the first time he had heard it, but had grown to be a nuisance the other three hundred times she told him. He hated the way her classroom smelled like dead tea leaves, peppermint, sage and something else that Harry couldn't quite put a finger on, though he told himself that he would be better of not to know. Harry wasn't fond of the fact that this year, the Gryffindor's were put in the same class as the Slytherin students. So not only was he subjected to the ravings of his professor, and the dull bordom that came with Divination, but he had to indure Malfoy and the rest of the seventh year Slytherin's sinckering and pointing at him when he was tormented by their proffessor's retarted predictions.
At the thought of the pale boy and his lackys, Harry turned his attention to the opposite side of the classroom where his nemisis was currently sitting, looking far too superior for his own good. Malfoy had his feet carelessy propped up on a vacant chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, one pale hand druming out a rhythm on the table next to him while his other held what looked like a quill to his lips. Of course the quill wasn't actually a real quill, but one of the sugar quills that was sold at Honeydukes, and Harry suddenly wished he had one of them. Maybe the suger would jump start his brain into activity and he wouldn't be so close to falling asleep during lessons.
Without realizing he was doing it, Harry propped his elbows on the table in front of him and rested his chin in the palms of his hands, silently watching Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure why he was so suddenly intent on watching the blond haired boy, but at the moment it seemed better than watching Trelawney shuffle about the room making wild gestures with her hands as whilst pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose and talking about... well, just talking in general. Harry had lost track a while ago of what she had been saying.
Malfoy raised one eyebrow in what seemed like amusement, taking the suger quill away from his lips before licking the spot on his lower lip where the candy quill had been. The quill momentarily forgotten in a hand that was lowered to his lap, Malfoy brought his other hand away from the page where he began to chew on his right thumb nail. Harry tilted his head to the side as he watched, wondering why Malfoy would drop a sugar quill in favor of his fingernail. It seemed like a strange thing to do, unless his nemisis had a hangnail or something, maybe a thorn under the nailbed? Harry blinked and shook his head a bit, telling himself not to think such things. What did he care if Malfoy had a hangnail or thorn? Why did he care if a stupid sugar quill was forgotten?
"...Mr. Potter," came Trelawney's annoyed voice from just off to his right, "...if you feel the need to stare at Mr. Malfoy, please do so when you are not in my classroom."
Harry felt his face flush crimson. Had he been that obvious?
"...S- sorry Proffessor..." he muttered as he lowered his gaze from Malfoy, who was smirking at him .
"I'm quite sure that you are dear," Proffessor Trelawney said, casping her hands together in front of her, "but let me ask you this Mr. Potter, what was it about Mr. Malfoy that you found so entrancing that you could not pay attention to my lesson? Hmm?"
With a glance back at a grinning Malfoy, Harry said the first thing that came to mind, "Anything is more entrancing than your lessons, even Malfoy." He said, and inwardly winced when the class laughed and the woman in front of him narrowed her eyes to pin points. "Wait! That isn't not what I ment!" he tried to correct himself, "I-I..."
But Trelawney wouldn't hear it, "That is enough Mr. Potter. I think you had better leave my classroom for today. I'll deal with you later."
Harry hung his head, but didn't say anything as he collected his texts and stood. Ron gave him a look, but Harry ignored it. Picking his way around the cushions on the floor, Harry started to make his way to the door, trying to keep his eyes to the floor as he walked by the Slytherins' side of the room. It didn't work. Harry felt his eyes moving rebelliously up until he locked eyes with the pale pointed faced boy of his eariler distractions.
"Can't get enough of me can you Potter?" Malfoy sneered.
Harry wanted to hit himself as he felt his cheeks burn once more, but didn't say anything back, instead looking away and continuing out of the classroom. Once he was away from the awful perfumed room, Harry made course for the Gryffindor dorms, as Divination had been his last class of the day and he felt like laying down. Not that he was tired or anything, he just needed to be alone and think, and the dorms were the best place to go since everyone else would be heading to the Great Hall for dinner.
The Fat Lady reguared him with interest as he walked up the stairs to the portrait, "Ahh! If it isn't Harry!" she cooed.
Harry grimaced. He wasn't in the mood to stand and chit chat.
"Butterscotch toffee." Harry said the password before she could open her mouth once more.
"Very well." came the tart reply as the portrait opened up.
Harry ignored her as he stepped into the Gryffindor common room, feeling a little bit better now that he was somewhere relatively safe from all other people except fellow Gryffindors. Shutting the door behind him when he reached his dorm room, Harry sighed, his thoughts going back to Divination class. Why had he watched Malfoy like that? Was he ill? Possessed?
"...Stupid class..." he muttered as he dropped his books onto his trunk and kicked off his shoes, crawling up onto his bed after he had done both.
Taking off his glasses, Harry lay down on his back and stared up into the blury vision of the canopy over his mattress. Resting his hands over his abdomen, Harry tried to push the images of Malfoy and his sugar quill out of his mind, but to no avial. Closing his eyes, Harry saw the pale hand drumming that rhythm on the table, a rhythm Harry wished he knew. He saw those slightly rose colored lips sucking on the tip of the Honeydukes creation, absently licking at the place the quill had been when it was taken away. Harry shifted and sighed. He could see those silver-grey eyes watching the lesson as one elegant eyebrow arched in amusement at something that was said. Harry bit his lip as one hand trailed absently from his abdomen towards his hipbones.
Malfoy had a quiet way of listening, Harry thought, that sugested he really enjoyed what he was listening to, or that he was so bored beyond belief that he went into a semi-comatose state, where he only looked like he was paying attention. Since Harry didn't know Malfoy that well, he asumed it was because the blond boy was extremely bored. He's probably just taking the class so that he can annoy me, Harry thought bitterly, he probably sits there thinking up new ways that he can embarrass me or humiliate me.
Well he wasn't going to have it! He wasn't going to play right into Malfoy's hands! No matter how much the pale boy taunted him or poked fun at him, Harry was in no way going to be that naive child he had been countless times before. Suddenly, Harry felt his stomach twist and clench, while his hips jerked a little off the bed. Looking down, Harry's eyes went wide.
He had just masterbated. He had just wanked off to the thought of Malfoy!
Sitting up in startlement, Harry frantically looked from his semen covered hand, to his open pants- which he didn't even realize he had undone- and gave a very unmanly squeak. "Fuck!" he cursed as he flew off the bed and zipped up his fly with one hand as the other went for his wand.
Using a simple cleaning charm, Harry cleaned up the mess he had made on the bed, then decided he needed a shower. A long hot shower, with absolutely no thoughts about Malfoy and his stupid pale, gracefull hands...
"Stop it!" Harry cried as he pounded the sides of his head with his fists.
He was NOT in away way shape or form attracted to Draco Malfoy! He couldn't be, he had no interest in guys. They did nothing for him, and never would. But then why, his mind told him smugly, did you wank off to the mere thought of Malfoy? And as if his treacherous mind wasn't bad enough, his body started to react once more.
Without a second fleeting thought, Harry turned and made his way quickly into the bathroom. He was going to have a long cold, cold shower...
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Authors Note:
So how did ya'll like that? It's the first installment of this fic, and I hope to have the next chapter/part up by next week some time. Let me know what you thought of it, I crave reviews.... as I have not recieved many reviews for my other fics (sniffs sadly). Good, bad, indifferent criticism is okay by me. (smiles sweelty and places a saucy Draco in nothing but leather chaps in front of audience to entice them......)
