Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Setting: Hogwarts; 6th Year
Pairing: Harry/Draco
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Panic Switch
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Harry Potter
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Quite often Harry found himself wondering how far he was lost to the inner madness.
And by calling the lunacy he found himself thinking – unconsciously, mind you – was putting the term 'inner madness' mildly.
Merlin, he had only started to lurk in the shadows, watching Malfoy, because he knew the boy had a Dark Mark brandished on his left arm. Draco Malfoy had truly followed in his daddy's footsteps, because no matter what his friends thought, the other boy did join the Death Eaters. Harry's goal in dogging his steps was only to discover the devious mission Malfoy was doing in the walls of Hogwarts. Not needing that lunatic, Lord Voldemort, to have another set of eyes on him. Let alone this boy who'd hand him over on a silver platter, just because he hated him so much.
Yet…the more he watched, the more he began to notice. Things like how the sun gleamed over his white-blond hair, or how his ice cold grey eyes would look so nice if Malfoy would only smile or laugh sometime in his life. And, Godric help him, catching himself in time to stop from staring at those perfect lips—almost wishing that he, Harry would be able to trace them with his thumb; only to squash that line of thinking right as his mind drifted to leaning in, about to take that wonderful mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss.
Ugh! It was starting seem an amazement that Harry wasn't living with his face stuck in a permanent flush—from arousal or embarrassment, he did not know. More or less he was proud that these…forbidden thoughts were still hidden from Ron and Hermione. Gods he couldn't even think of enough words to describe the horror them noticing his…obsession…with Malfoy.
Being honest, dating Ginny didn't help at all. Sure she was pretty and something he could say he had always wanted, but, she was missing something. Harry hated the guilt that always flooded him when he started wishing her eyes were a bit lighter; wanting her hair to become less red; dreaming of her body to become more masculine and smell more boy-like.
To think about his troubles with this War and dealing with the old Snake Face was really the only way to end his little fantasies. Whenever Harry shifted his focus to the immediate future, that's when he began to feel right-footed once again.
Because, really, at the end of the day daydreaming of Malfoy and his delicious boy smell, and wanting to share languorous kisses with him, was not going to matter years from now; only defeating the Darkest Wizard of his time would. Saving lives and making the Wizarding world needed his attention right this very moment.
It was those thoughts that helped ease the pressure on his chest—help him to breathe once again.
