Perfection
The dream covered his mind the same moment he closed his eyes.
At first moment – that moment when a person stands on the narrow bridge between dreamland and black-white world of cruel reality – he wasn't aware of anything. Then a scarf of blinding light appeared in front of Harry's eyes and in just a flicker light became a shape, a shape that reminded Harry of a big tree near the lake – but that didn't take the biggest part of his dream. For one forgettable second he thought he was seeing a memory from collection of Dumbledore... but that he has forgotten, just like the fact that he was dreaming. Dreams are dangerous things.
Out of nowhere, a tall handsome boy was moving towards Harry. He knew he should've hated that boy; he was just giving the shape to the thought as the boy got just a few inches away from him. And the boy was beautiful. His almost-white blond hair was dancing as though the boy was swimming in a lake – lake that surely wasn't beautiful enough for him – and his grey eyes were like deep clouds of hatred, hatred that Harry adored so much. But, to Harry's surprise, there was no hate in the eyes right now... only lust.
Such a tiny line between love and hate; Harry didn't know what side he belonged to. At least not until the boys finger touched his arm. Draco – a word appeared out of some locked box of Harry's darkened mind. Draco moved his long thin fingers across Harry's soft skin; from elbow to wrist – moments became years with a hurricane of Draco's fiery touch and stormy look – from wrist to Harry's fingers. And it was as though they were locked forever, forever in that hypnotic touch.
Forever extended when the boy took Harry's arm and brought it to Draco's chest. Harry could almost touch boy's fast beating heart, the heart that belonged to Harry and no one else, heart that he wanted to have and listen until he's lost all of his existence.
Draco's beautiful reddish lips moved in slow motion and Harry got goose bumps as he heard Draco's soft voice telling him: "Kiss me and let it take you forever."
Harry hadn't had to be told twice: with his right hand on Draco's chest, he carried his left hand to the boy's pale, sharp and beautiful soft face and kissed him passionately. The kiss was nothing Harry's ever imagined – it was better. It was as though he's laid on his lovely bed after a hard quidditch training or leisure in the shadow of a tree outside the castle after hundreds of finishing tests. It was, actually, hundred times better.
Draco's breath touched his face and Draco's tongue moved across Harry's upper lip. "Don't you ever leave me", murmured Draco in his mouth, words tickling Harry passionately. Why would he ever leave Draco? Those divine lips and eyes and soul. They were meant to be, perfect for each other; Harry didn't really like the word perfect, but as Draco's irresistible lips moved across his, it was painful not to describe it as perfect.
Why, again, would he ever leave him? Why would he stop this?
And the same moment the though moved across his mind, the pale boy of perfection moved his lips and eyes and soul away. Everything disappeared, even the background Harry didn't even bother to take a look of. Harry's eyes filled with tears of anger and disappointment. Why did that ever had to stop?
Again that bridge of dream and reality, and then he could feel his bed underneath him.
"—me to tap dance... I don't want to tap dance!" Harry heard Ron's panicking voice filling the room.
"You tell those spiders, Ron", he made himself say as he wiped the tears away.
"I'll tell them", Ron murmured.
Harry closed his eyes again. A beautiful dream it's been and he wasn't going to let it go just like that. He darkened his mind, illuminated his feelings and soon enough found Draco waiting for him under a tree next to the lake.
In the same castle, the pale beautiful boy shared the dream. Dreams are dangerous things – especially when they're slyly carrying feelings behind their back.