Draco slumped against the shower wall; panting heavily he watched the remnants of his desire disappear down the drain. He preferred wanking in the shower because all the evidence washed away. There was nothing for him to clean up nor did he have the house elves knowing his business like he did when he left latent 'deposits' on his sheets.
"Oh God," Draco groaned as he clasped his head in his hands highly annoyed with himself.
It was always the same. For the last four months Draco had had the same start to his day - if it was not for the fact that the rest of his day tended to differ he would swear that he was stuck in time, forced to follow the same sequence repeatedly with no end in sight. Every morning he would wake up from some dream in which Potter featured as some sort of decadent hussy and then he would spend an hour or so trying to fight the urge to touch himself. It was a fruitless battle, he always gave in, all it took was a brief reminder of his dream to make him aroused and his traitorous hand would sneak down to curl around his penis. And every morning he had to contend with the shame of his own weak will, recognise that in wanking to images of Potter he had buckled yet again. That he gave in meant that every morning he was provided with yet another instance of loosing to Potter - he always ended up loosing to Potter. His present situation just served to reinforce and intensify the hatred he felt for the famous Potter who always won. But he still wanted to fuck the Boy Who Lived and the knowledge of this filled him with shame and rage.
While he might have satisfied his body Draco felt wholly undignified and soiled by what he had done, and even more so because he knew what he really wanted to do to the raven haired boy. The only consolation was that he knew he only wanted to shag him, to satisfy his animalistic cravings however gratuitous that might seem. He had absolutely no desire to get to know the boy who lived or to take things slowly and make love to him, and he certainly was 'not' in love with him. He just wanted to fuck him and then discard him. As much as the knowledge of his own desire made him feel dirty and occasionally question his own sanity Draco could not deny that it made him extremely excited. He couldn't wait to have Potter in a position similar to his dream Draco would be merciless once he got his chance. Bearing in mind that it could be worse, Draco hopped that in time he could come to feel better about the whole sordid affair as his moments of acceptance were fleeting and never long-lasting.
What had started as an odd recognition of Potter's physical appeal had quickly followed on to a continuing sequence of dream fantasies and a desperate desire to fuck the raven hair 'god' of Hogwarts. Sometimes Draco felt a bit like a groupie, he was well aware that half of Hogwarts at least wanted to get closer to the famous Harry Potter, it was just infuriating that he wanted to as well. But he would do it.
Grabbing the soap from the ledge Draco began to wash himself thoroughly, he couldn't stay in the shower forever. He had to go down to breakfast but he had to get ready first and that could take quite sometime for a perfectionist like Draco. He was simply not prepared to leave his room looking anything but his best and if he was brutally honest about his own vanity he would admit that he could not even tolerate looking less than perfect when entirely alone and with absolutely no possibility of meeting a single living person. Draco turned off the taps, stepping out onto the cold tile floor he reached for a clean towel. He once more felt as though he would faint, the bathroom was so hot, the steam hung in the air and water dripped off the ceiling. After drying himself thoroughly Draco reached for his deodorant spraying it liberally under each arm before applying some cologne. As far as he was concerned there could be absolutely no excuse for stench.
Dropping the towel for the house elves to clean up Draco headed for his dressing room; he enjoyed watching himself prepare and dress in the full- length mirror. After squeezing some moisturiser on to his torso and legs he began to rub it into his skin deliberately sensual as he watched himself in the mirror. Glistening and smelling fresh Draco surveyed himself in the mirror; he really was pleased with every facet of his body. He was the perfect height, neither short nor tall, with graceful legs and arms his chest well defined and muscular. Turning around Draco craned his neck to look over his shoulder, he smiled grateful that he had a nice arse. However what pleased him most about his body was his milky white skin Draco thought it made him look pure and ethereal.
"Ahhh Draco you are hot," he purred to his reflection, smiling smugly and apparently unaware how bizarre it was for a person to speak to their reflection or to be quite so in love with said reflection.
Draco often wondered (much to his disgust) what Potter looked like without his Robes on and whether he looked as good as Draco. He seriously doubted that the boy who lived could live up to Draco's expectations. As his dream vision was an Adonis with Harry's face stuck on and he had an amazing sexual prowess Draco fully expected to be disappointed when he finally got to take Potter to bed. He was undecided as to how he exactly felt about the prospect of Potter being lousy in bed. On the one hand in would eradicate the desire he currently felt for his nemesis and would lead to the end of the dreams that had been haunting him but on the other hand he desperately wanted to experience the dream Potter in reality. But Draco considered the latter highly unlikely, even if Potter's body could rival his dream vision Draco was adamant that Potter was a virgin. But then this also held a charming appeal, breaking in the boy who lived and possibly hurting him emotionally as well would prove to be a rewarding experience. Whatever the outcome Draco was certain it would be worth the effort and trouble one way of the other.
Rummaging through his clothes Draco grasped a set of sleek silver robes. He then selected a pair of tight silver boxers, watching himself in the mirror as he pulled them on and adjusted his assets. Draco much preferred tight boxers in a clingy fabric so that his package remained confined. Smiling at his reflection, Draco was pleased to note that he looked just as good with his underwear on as with out - different kinds of appealing. Covering his beautiful body with the robes, Draco sighed as he adjusted and smoothed the fabric so that it sat exactly as he intended. Everything was bought so that it displayed Draco in his most favourable light.
Sighing Draco sat down at his dressing table to make the final touches to his appearance. He applied some facial moisturiser being careful to smooth is eyebrows into the perfect arches he specifically plucked them to resemble. A quick glance showed that they were as neat as usual; there was no lone hair that Draco needed to enlist the help of his trusty tweezers to remove. Fixing his hair took considerably longer, as he had to primp and flick his hair until it was styled perfectly before applying some adhesives that ensured it remained perfect and unmoving all day long. With a final sigh Draco put down his comb, finally pleased with the result of his labours he got up from the dressing table to stand before the full-length mirror once more. A final glance revealed Draco was indeed looking his best and was fit for public appreciation.
"Potter should consider himself lucky that I want him," Draco muttered, giving his robes a final pat down he spun on his heel exiting the dressing room. Personally Draco considered himself much to good for the orphaned Boy Who Lived but he could not deny that he still wanted him and he would not deny his body its demands. But that did not mean he would stoop so low as to be nice to Potter, he would find a away to get Potter in his bed without sinking to those depths. He smiled evilly, wondering just how much Potter had suffered over the summer, if his plan had worked Potter would have suffered a great deal. Draco was a vengeful person, he always made sure that anyone who made him suffer - however unintentional - never went unpunished.
: Draco entered the bright morning room in a whirl of fabric his scent filling the room. Unlike the evening dining room this one was cheerful and tastefully decorated with antique furniture. A mahogany table piled with a variety of breakfast food stood in the middle, Draco's parents seated at either end with a place set for Draco between them. "Morning Mother," Draco greeted as he glided over to kiss his mother on the cheek.
"Morning Draco Dear," Narcissa replied, accepting his kiss, waving her hand gracefully in the general direction of the table "┘have some breakfast."
"Father," Draco nodded in the direction of his father as he took his seat, receiving a curt "Draco" in response. After selecting some tasty fruits and pouring himself a glass of juice Draco began to eat his breakfast. "Do we have any engagements today father?" He asked after a while.
"The Parkinson's are coming over late this afternoon and staying for dinner," his father replied a slight smirk playing around the edges of his mouth.
"Pansy will be coming Draco, won't that be nice," Narcissa informed him in amusement as his father snorted into his cantaloupe, they both knew just how much Draco hated his bride to be.
At the mention of Pansy Draco stiffened, he hated her more than he hated Potter; resenting the fact that he had to marry someone so incredibly grotesque. He felt that as he was gay he should not have to marry a hideous creature with breasts, if he must wed the ugly, then at the very least that person should have a penis. Draco wondered what would happen if he told them about his orientation, would they make him marry her still?
"Mother. Father. I think there is something you should know." Expecting the news to come as a shock, Draco spoke firmly. " I am a h-o-m-o-s-e-x-u- a-l," Draco said, pronouncing every letter of the word clearly.
Whatever outcome Draco had been expecting it certainly wasn't the laughter that followed in the wake of his pompous announcement. His father muttered to Salazar as he tried to compose himself, "I knew it." Draco was perplexed and beginning to feel highly uncomfortable. He was at a loss to understand why his confession was so amusing to his parents until his mother informed him sweetly.
"No offence Draco dear but we already knew," Narcissa spoke, reaching out a hand to pat Draco's. "Its actually quite obvious."
Surprised Draco pulled his hand away. "I beg your pardon?" Draco said indignantly, not liking the implication of his mother's words.
"We've suspected for quite a long time Draco," his father drawled.
"But we were absolutely certain after that party your father threw for returning death eaters in the South of France last summer, remember that Lucius?" Lucius nodded his head in response as he laughed.
"Excuse me?" Draco remembered the party but he had absolutely no idea what they were referring to, he couldn't remember doing anything at that party.
"Well most teenage boys would have spent time appraising the assets of the scantily clad harlots your father hired to waitress but you did not do that 'once' Draco," his mother explained, trying not to laugh at her son's horror struck face.
"He was to busy┘ What was it you said? Ah yes┘ appraising the assets of the young French death eaters," Lucius pipped in, causing both adults to chuckle heartily. Draco however, was stunned; he had no idea how to respond to this situation.
"Then there is the fact that you spend so much time and effort on your appearance Draco dear," Narcissa informed, seemingly unconcerned about Draco's rising mortification. "Your clothes have been getting considerably tighter and more stylish," she waved her hand at his present outfit to emphasise her point. "You exfoliate and moisturise┘ and I don't think I have ever seen you with a hair out of place." Narcissa concluded, she had many other examples to give of Draco's odd little quirks, which set her Gaydar off, but she decided to take pity on the boy. The boy in question just sat there not quite sure of where to go from here but hopeful that after they finished amusing themselves at his expense he would be released from his binding to Pansy.
"Draco all we are saying is that we already knew," Narcissa injected into what was becoming an uncomfortable silence, except for the occasional chuckle from Lucius. "But thank you for confiding in us."
"┘And you're okay with this?" Draco asked in amazement.
"Of course we are Draco dear," Narcissa spoke as she got up to give Draco a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Now I must dash, I have to buy a dress for this evening," she said before gliding gracefully out the room leaving Draco and Lucius in an uncomfortable silence.
Draco finally spoke, anxious to make sure he was understanding his parents correctly; he might after all be free from Pansy Pug Face Parkinson. "Are you really okay with this?"
"Draco you can do as you please, be with whom you please," his father responded seriously before continuing in a chuckle, "┘its not as if he will get pregnant, whoever he may be." Coughing softly to compose himself, he continued more seriously, "┘I would prefer it if you refrained from having any sort of dalliance with mudbloods."
"But of course father," Draco responded quickly.
Lucius smirked, pleased that his son had turned out so well. "But Draco? You do still have to marry Pansy." At the sight of Draco's crushed face, Lucius felt compelled to explain himself. "Think of it as a merger Draco, look how rich you will be when you have both the Malfoy and Parkinson fortunes."
"But Pansy?" Draco groaned.
"You don't have to be faithful Draco, just provide an heir. Who you sleep with outside of that is your own concern. The girl is after all grotesque, I would expect at least a dalliance or two. The marriage is just for appearances sake, think of her as a trophy wife."
"Bit of dull trophy, pure blood or not." Draco commented dryly, Lucius chuckled as his son's wit. "So do I have to keep it a secret?"
"No Draco you don't, " Lucius sighed, "┘but once you are married you will have to be more discreet. We can pass off any present dalliance as experimentation." Lucius got up from the table, giving Draco a fatherly pat on the back. "Draco go conclude your packing, you leave tomorrow and with the Parkinson's coming you may not have time to pack latter on." Lucius spoke as he headed towards the exit.
"Yes father." Draco remained seated for a moment just letting the conversation clarify itself. He still had to marry Pansy. At the very least, he had not got into trouble and he could openly do whatever he wanted until he married Pansy after which time he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was discreet. It was not as bad as he had expected even if he did still have to marry pug face.
Draco sighed as he left the breakfast room; he hated the hike he had to endure just to get from the main living areas to his suite. Such was the monstrous proportions of Malfoy Manor he had to trudge along a series of halls, through a maze of corridors and up numerous flights of stairs to get to his bedroom. He wanted to learn to apparate desperately, his parents could, and it made navigating the huge house much quicker and easier. His parents could apparate wherever they wanted in the house, no effort required and they never had to encounter the stairs or corridors - which was why his mother had never bothered to redecorate them.
During her time at the manor she had decorated just about every room in the house as a consequence, Malfoy Manor was considerably brighter than it had been at any other time in history. The halls, corridors and stairs she never bothered with but she was forbidden to touch the dungeons, these areas retained the stereotypically evil dИcor his grandfather had been so fond of much to Draco's distaste. His father however was also fond of the sinister dИcor, but he was content to let Narcissa have free reign with the house as long as she kept her colour charts out of his dungeons. He ruled those dungeons; though what he actually did there Draco could only guess, as his proper Dark Arts training would only begin after he had finished at Hogwarts. Occasionally Draco would hear a decidedly sinister laugh - of the MWAHHAHAHAHAHAHA - variety bellowing from the dungeons and he always hoped that his training did not involve developing on of those.
: Draco returned to his room to find it spotless the house elves having been in to make his bed and tidy his bathroom. At the foot of his bed stood his school trunk; the lid open awaiting Draco's finishing touches. Walking over and peering in Draco noticed that the house elves had packed it with most of the things he needed for his stay at Hogwarts, his school robes and clothes were neatly folded inside, his school books and stationary neatly staked and his broom carefully packed. Draco only had to add his personal belongings and other items he did not trust the house elves to select accurately by themselves. Rummaging through the draws of his bathroom cabinet and dressing room table, he extracted the things he could not live with out such as his colognes, deodorant, moisturisers, his loofah, his pumice stone, his hair gel and those trusty tweezers. Zipping the contents into a toiletry bag Draco carefully placed his grooming kit into his trunk thankful that he had two of everything so he could make himself look fantastic in the morning. Quickly scouring his closet, Draco added some other minor items he thought he ought to take with him. He left the most important item for last.
Padding over to his bed, Draco picked up a glass ball from his bedside cabinet. Purple and green sand swirled around the inside of the ball like a storm. Draco smiled ferrally down at the ball. Revenge was sweet and this little gem was going to make it even sweeter. He laughed out loud as he thought of Harry and wondered how the famous Boy Who Lived, had copped with his summertime dreaming. He almost hopped that Potter looked haggard from a restless summer. Almost. After all he wanted Potter to look good when he took him.
Draco clasped the glass object in his hand triumphantly; it had been one of his most brilliant ideas ever. The Dreamer had the power to influence a persons dream in special ways depending upon how the creator enchanted it. Draco had enchanted two identical glass balls, one for himself and one for Potter. As long as Draco kept his with him and Potter's was in the same room as him, even if it was in a trunk, Harry would have erotic dreams about Draco. He had enchanted it to give Potter a taste of his dreams, as a punishment for having the cheek to ingrain himself in Draco's subconscious. After suffering from Potter dreams for over a month during his last term at Hogwarts the idea had come to him in the form of a vague recollection from a book he had read. Draco had sifted through the special books his father gave him until he had found what he was looking for - the dreamer, the perfect way to extract revenge on Potter for making him suffer. It was one of the rare times he actually understood why his father felt the need to laugh madly when concocting something sinister even if Draco had managed to refrain from laughing madly himself.
Draco had easily obtained to glass balls from Hogsmeade and had quickly set about enchanting them to encourage dreams in which Harry and Draco interacted in a variety of naked and blatantly sexual activities. Although creating them had been extremely easy, Draco had initially had trouble slipping the dreamer to Potter as he had no access to Potter's things during the school term and he doubted the Boy Who Lived would accept a gift from him. In the end Draco had had to wait for the trip home from Hogwarts at the end of the school year to gain access to Potter's trunk. He had slipped it into the bottom of the Potter's trunk with all the other forgotten things hoping that the raven-haired boy wasn't one to clean out his trunk.
Draco supposed that some people might feel ashamed of taking such underhand and unfair revenge, and Draco could admit that it was quite unfair, but he was proud of his actions. The only problem with the dreamer was that it did not cure his own dreams, nor did it make them worse, the only thing it did was ensure that Potter would have dreams of an erotic nature about Draco. There was only one thing that would eradicate Draco's dreams and he fully intended to do it; he would fuck the Boy Who Lived out of his system. Gay or straight, willing or unwilling Draco would have Harry Potter and if everything went exceptionally well he would also crush him. Draco placed the ball in a velvet case then gently laid it on top of his clothes snapping the lid of his trunk with an audible click.
Draco lay down on his bed, arms crossed over his chest and a smile playing across his lips as he thought of Narcissa's Homosexual Indicators. He certainly could not fault her with one of them, if one likes boys then they are more inclined to look at boys but he seriously doubted someone's appearance could always give them away as his mother had suggested. Draco was pretty certain that there were gay people on the planet whom were messy and dressed badly. Draco hopped that Potter was one of them because according to Narcissa's Gaydar he was a rampant heterosexual. As for himself, Draco was just vain and that would be part of his character no matter what his sexual orientation.
He remained on the bed for over an hour, devising and refining his plans to get the Boy Who Lived into bed. He was fairly certain that it would work, but he would have to wait at least a week before he could make any real move; he needed to see how the dreamer was working. If the unfortunate occurred and his plans were fruitless Draco had a back up. Violence. If he could not get Potter there willingly and ready to fulfil Draco's every desire than he would just take him by force, either way Draco would have Harry 'and' have him out of his system by Christmas.
Draco leapt up from the bed remembering Pansy's immanent arrival he could spend no more time making plans for Potter. Rushing over to the fireplace, Draco prepared it for a wizarding call. He would demand that Crable and Goyle arrive immediately and stay for dinner, they being trusty henchmen would 'not' refuse him and Pansy could not try anything funny with them around. And again Draco understood his father's dungeon laugh but would not imitate it. Apparently it was innate. One day, Draco knew he too would laugh madly.