Cyrusys 3

Cyrusys 3

"M-Malfoy? Draco? Stop laughing, you're scaring me! DRACO!" Harry, like a true Gryffindor acting on impulse, pushed and pinned Draco to the wall.

"Calm down, Potter. Can't you see the humor in all this? Here we are, mortal enemies, bickering in a bathroom when our paths dictate that we should be killing each other at first sight. It's sick and pathetic."

"It's morbid! What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing at all, why?" Draco answered flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"Your mad!" Harry's voice was dabbling in tones of hysteria.

"Acute of you, Potter. Now let go of me."

Harry just shook his head and held his grip. If he let go then Draco could reach for his wand…and that's the LAST this Harry wanted. Draco pushed lightly against Harry and demanded again a little more firmly. Harry just shook his head and looked at their feet. He could feel Draco relaxing a little under his touch. Finally, Harry just gave out and let what strength he had left evaporate into the air. It was only then did he notice that he and Draco's feet were touching.

"Cool it, Potter. It's fine, I am fine. Just really, really stressed." Draco let out a sigh and put a hand on Harry's shoulder to move him back and look at his face, only to be visually shocked with the image before him. "What the hell are you doing?" Harry was fighting, fighting with all his might, but failing to hold back the tears caused by his own life's stress, their shared burdens from fate.

"I am so sick of it all. This war, having to be on 'sides', not knowing who is a spy and who is trust worthy, not knowing if you are going to live another day…it's all so pointless, so empty. Why does Voldemort want to kill me? A grudge? It's too stupid. Why are we all fighting with each other even before we leave school? Before our final year even! This is not supposed to be how we live our lives! Look at how fucked up we all are! WHY CAN'T WE JUST BE FRIENDS!" Harry shouted the last line in Draco's face, letting all his rage, fear and sadness flow out in his words, tears and gasps.

They stood like that for a while, Draco still against the wall looking down at Harry. His head was now hanging limply against Draco's chest. Draco's hands had moved to Harry's shoulders, not an intentional comforting gesture. It just…happened.

"Why can't we just be friends?" Harry said mush softer, almost to himself, as if saying it in his sleep.

Draco's inner battle was so intense it was making his pulse and breath race. His stress was not simply from the order to kill, it was the insinuation to not befriend or have any relationships outside the Death Eater circle that he really, truly despised. It was tearing at his inner soul, his very being. He was living a nightmare, and the only potential savior was here in front of him. The one person even remotely capable of rescuing him was standing with him, during both of their darkest hours. So close, but in reality worlds away, making the phrase unbearably frustrating an understatement.

"We can't just be friends." Draco said, matching the softness of Harry's tone. Harry looked up, despair and a hint of confusion written on his face.

"Why?" Harry's eyes widened when Draco pushed him back and held Harry at arms distance. Then Draco leaned forward, touching the crowns of their heads together. They stayed like that for a moment before Draco spoke again.

"We can't just be friends…because I want to be more." With that Draco leaned forward and took Harry's lips with his own.

Draco was kissing hope, kissing light, and kissing faith. Draco was kissing Harry. It took a few moments before the gravity of the situation hit Harry, and when it did, it hit him like a punch. He tried to yell, but all he produced was a moan. He tried to push away, but he ended up wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulders. He tried to open his eyes, but they disobeyed. Then, his whole body yielded and he leaned into Draco and the kiss.

Draco was for the first time existing in a natural state of being—everything about him and his mind was united in this one action. He wanted to kiss Harry. He needed to kiss Harry. He had to in order to save the last part of his sanity. It was the only thing that would be right to do at that time and moment, anything else would be just wrong. Draco slowly turned Harry towards the window; Harry just followed, and most importantly, trusted Draco to lead him. Draco effortlessly lifted Harry onto the window's ledge; he was now between Harry's knees and leaning up towards Harry, never breaking their contact—continuously refreshing the sensation of being part of a duel with their lips and tongues.

To both, the moment, this small shred of time was the most meaningful and necessary action they've had in the past year. The war, the petty house rivalries, the meaningless alliances, nothing mattered. There was no past, the future was not worth the worry, but the present was vital. The kiss was hungry, the only sound in the bathroom was small gasps for air, the rustle of clothing being pried open, and the small but deep moans from a non-distinguishable source.

Harry could not recount when it happened, but Draco's hand was now drifting like a feather over his Quiddich hardened abs and back. Such small movements burned like fire, and Harry thought that no amount of scrubbing would take the sensation away from his body. Harry's hands were around Draco's neck and under his arm, trying to make their contact as close and personal as possible. Not one motion was planned, all the movements were made instinctually and with all the passion missing in the other areas of Harry and Draco's lives.

Suddenly, Draco pulled back, leaving both of them gasping for air. They looked into each other's eyes and slowly a dialogue moving from relief, to concern, to fear, to regret and then to embarrassment flooded into the open space between then.

"Draco."

"Harry, what have I done?"

"I can't answer that. What just happened?"

"I can't answer that. I am sorry." Draco slowly started detangling himself and deciphering whose limbs belonged in what clothes when Harry finally spoke again.

"Please." Harry was looking at Draco's hands that had stopped at his own hips. "Draco, I…you seem to be hurting so much. Why? What's happening to you to make you so..."

"Stressed, freaked out, scared, miserable?" Draco said, following his eyes.

"Yea." Harry's eyes slowly took in the whole situation, and just feeling bad that this was one more thing that would be added to Draco's problems.

"I can't tell you that. Please just drop it. I really don't need to think about it right now." With this, Harry's curiosity was just having a heyday, but for the first time ever, he did as he was told by another student, and for a Slytherin no less. He had his own problems to worry about…he had just kissed Draco Malfoy, and it was not out of place, or wrong.

"Understood."

"I understand them now."

"What?"

"Why you're the hero."

But before either one of them had the chance for the next word, there was a resounding crash in the hall, alerting both their war-bred nerves. Harry grabbed for his wand, Draco was already at the door. Both looked at each other. Draco grabbed Harry's messy hair and forcefully brought his head up to his face. "I will not beg a Gryffindor, but I will ask you to be here tomorrow, same time." Harry nodded in acquiescence before being forced into a rough and passionate kiss for the last time before they each bolted out the door wands raised.

"Malfoy, I'll be wanting my cloak." Harry said in a hushed but clear voice.

"And I'll be wanting that incentive for you to be here, Potter." Draco said with a refreshed sneer.

With a quick exchange of glares, they were off in their respective directions towards their common rooms. Neither had innocent dreams.