Harry Potter and the Unsettling Discovery

Ch. 10

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.-Elie Wiesel

The boys had been spending their whole days together since their detention with Dumbledore. Going into Hogsmeade, playing Quidditch, playing Wizard Chess, sometimes even just sitting in a companionable silence, each pursuing his own reading interests, content to just be together. Whether on the grounds, in the library, or in the great hall, they were careful not to engage in too much physical contact, partly attempting to avoid further punishment. They were especially diligent at trying to appear as if everything was as it had always been when other students were around. Despite his biting comments to Snape, Draco didn't want to stir up any trouble for himself or Harry. Both boys knew that if it became known exactly how chummy the boy who lived and his former rival, the son of a convicted death eater, had become, it would spread through the school faster than an outbreak of dragon fever. The absence of any other Slytherin students made this not so much a problem at the moment, but once the other Slytherins returned, many of them children of death eaters, and possibly a few of them having joined the ranks in the meantime, they would have to be extra careful. They figured they might as well practice now.

Harry had included Hogsmeade in this as well. Seeing as how his face had been plastered across The Profit, Witch Weekly, The Quibbler, and who knows how many other wizarding publications countless times since his fourth year, those in the wizarding world no longer needed to see his scar, or recognize his similarity to his father to know right away who he was. He didn't fancy seeing himself any more in the press, and he had a feeling that, given the general wizarding population's fixation on him, the revealing of his true romantic proclivities would definitely be considered newsworthy.

They reserved most physical activity for the room of requirement. The first time Harry had taken him there, and actually explained the concept behind the room that Draco and his Inquisitorial Squad had had so much trouble actually getting into during fifth year, Draco was intrigued. Harry sat back, watching in amusement as Draco paced in front of the door, face fixed in concentration, opening it after it appeared during his third pass, looking inside, closing the door and pacing some more. First Draco turned it into a theatre, complete with a red velvet curtained stage in front, then a discothèque with flashing lights and music blaring, then a café, with a buffet full of food against the back wall, then a toilet, where he grinned at Harry, saying "Excuse me for a sec," and went in. He reemerged and paced again, turning the room into a Greco-Roman styled bath house/sauna, complete with a very large, very homoerotic marble statue behind the columns. Harry raised an eyebrow at the boy, who answered with a smirk.

He closed the door one last time, paced, and opened it again, revealing a cozy little lounge that reminded Harry of the Slytherin common room. There was wood paneling on the walls, a green leather couch in front of a grand fire place, a couple of matching winged back chairs to the side with a table between them. Near the entrance, there were silver wall lamps with green glass shades. The only real difference between this room and the Slytherin common room, besides the size, was that the far wall, opposite the door, was full of windows.

In that first visit to the Room of Requirement, and each subsequent visit, the boys felt free to interact without having to worry about self-censorship. They spoke of things they didn't want others overhearing, and they didn't refrain from prolonged physical contact. In fact, they could often be seen, if anyone knew where to look, wrapped into each other on the leather couch, mouths tasting and limbs entangling. They stayed fully clothed and kept hands either above the waist or above the clothes. Still, the intensity of their physical reactions to each other caught both of them off guard, and left both of them wanting more.

Harry's dreams had been getting better, and worse. They were better because now that the faceless man had the face of Draco, his embrace felt that much more right. As they spent more and more time together in their waking hours, Harry's time spent with Draco in his dream began to intensify exponentially. Even just the meeting of eyes would set Harry's insides on fire. This made it all the worse, since everything he felt in the dream filled Harry with feelings of so right, and perfect, and forever, when Draco would inevitably be torn away in that cursed fog, and Harry would find himself so helpless to stop it, it caused that much more pain.

After one particularly heavy night of dreams that set his body and heart ablaze just to douse his soul in blackness, he made his way down to breakfast. Draco and he had worked out a system where the first one up for breakfast in the morning would wait for the other to finish eating, then they would both leave to spend their day together. Harry felt particularly rough, and could have used more sleep, but didn't want to miss Draco. He had nearly lost consciousness in his bowl of porridge twice when Draco entered the great hall, giving Harry pause. Draco looked as bad as Harry felt. He had dark circles under his eyes, which made his fair skin look that much paler. As he entered the great hall, his attempted smile at Harry came out as more a grimace of pain than anything else. He collapsed at the Slytherin table, head immediately crashing down on his folded arms. It wouldn't have surprised Harry if he had fallen asleep as soon as his head fell, but then he shifted his neck and looked at Harry again with the most pathetic look Harry had ever seen.

Seeing Draco Malfoy, who came from a very proper elitist upbringing doing something as uncouth as collapsing onto the breakfast table spurred Harry into action more than anything else. He got up and made his way to the Slytherin table. Doing his own, more controlled version of a collapse next to Draco on the bench, and earning more than a few raised eyebrows from the students and staff who were already in the great hall, Harry asked Draco what the matter was.

"I've been having nightmares."

"Yeah, you and me both."

"Harry, this is going to sound crazy, but…" Eyeing a Ravenclaw sitting nearby who seemed to be trying to look sideways at the boys without getting caught, Draco nodded his head to the doors leading to the entrance hall, grabbed Harry by the wrist, and drug him through the doors. "Lets go to the room," he whispered as they passed two Hufflepuffs walking into the great hall.

Upon entering the room of requirement, Draco immediately went to the couch, falling backward on it and throwing his arm over his eyes. The whole display brought to Harry's mind images of Victorian ladies and fainting couches. Though he felt the same way himself, he couldn't help but chuckle. He made his own way over to the couch, collecting Draco's feet into his arms, he lifted them and sat down, resting them back in his lap when he was done.

They sat in silence for a time, before Draco started to speak. "So, I've been having these…dreams I guess. I mean, I'm seeing these things in my sleep, but I could swear that they're not…I'm seeing through You Know Who's eyes. Or into his thoughts…Harry, what's wrong?"

Midway through Draco's speech Harry had shot blot upright. "Go on...!"

"Er, well, in my dreams he's plotting something. He wants to stir up some trouble here at Hogwarts. It's not an attack or anything. He just wants to, I don't know, cause fear, I guess."

"What specifically is he planning?"

"That's the problem. I never see any specifics; I don't think HE even knows. He seems to be trying to figure out a way to terrify everyone without risking his own people. But these aren't like normal dreams, Harry. I could swear I'm actually getting glimpses into the mental workings of the Dark Lord. Sounds crazy, huh?"

"Not as crazy as you'd think."

Draco, not sure if he was kidding or not, just peered up at him bleakly as Harry went in to the Cliff's Notes version of an explanation about his scar, ending with the attack on Arthur Weasley, the trap in the Department of Mysteries during fifth year, and the reason they were so well prepared for the attack on the Ministry sixth months ago.

"You know, these dreams started just after my marking. You don't think…"

"Have you told Dumbledore about this?"

"No, I've told Snape, but he doesn't seem to think it's anything important."

"I think we need to tell him." Harry stood and began walking toward the door.

"What, now?" Draco reluctantly got up and followed, even through his protest.

They made their way quickly to the corridor to Dumbledore's office. They were practically running by the time the arrived, and it took them a few minutes to catch their breath before they were able to speak more than five words at once. Draco finally explained everything as Dumbledore surveyed the boys over his glasses. After Draco finished talking, he calmly asked, "Do you believe that Voldemort is aware of your presence in his thoughts?"

"Actually, I think he hasn't a clue." The emphatic nature of his proclamation surprised Harry. At his questioning look, Draco continued, "I mean, the inanity of some of these thoughts… like he's having an internal debate about what to wear that day, or what to have for breakfast. He's not just thinking about ways to stir up trouble, he's frustrated about things, he's…I don't know if this would be the right word, but he's worried or insecure about certain things. He's…scared. If provoking fear and awe in your enemies as well as your followers were a goal of yours, you wouldn't let anyone in on that."

"Quite." Dumbledore was surveying Draco with a satisfied glint in his eyes. Harry had to agree, though he hoped Dumbledore wasn't sharing ALL of Harry's thoughts, as some of them dealt with how deliciously alluring he found Draco at the moment.

Breaking himself out of his thoughts, he asked, "So do you think this is something like my scar?"

"It would not surprise me one bit. The way the mark works, if a failed curse can make this kind of connection, a failed marking would be even more likely to do so." At this, Harry looked confused, so Dumbledore went on, "The Dark Mark opens up a wizard or witch's power store to Voldemort. He can draw on it if he needs. It's not a direct leach of energy, but it can act as a boost in times of great need. It also makes said wizard or witch's magic not work against Voldemort in a harmful way. All of his death eaters could cast a killing curse toward him at once, and Voldemort wouldn't so much as feel a slight breeze. Since the curse links him to his followers in such a direct way, I believe a mental transfer like this could be facilitated by that connection."

This horrified Harry to no end. Magic was a precious thing in his eyes, and the stealing or controlling of another's power sounded like the most intimate violation Harry could think of. He looked at Draco and was even more shocked when the Slytherin didn't show one sign of surprise. "Did you know about this?"

"Well, not in so many words, but it's generally understood, at least among death eaters and their kin."

"Does that mean Voldemort could be sucking Draco dry as we speak?"

"Only during times of great need would Voldemort be able to draw from his followers, such as if he were in mortal peril, or believed himself to be. Surprisingly, only twice in the past sixteen years has he drawn on this property of the mark."

"When?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

"The first was the night he murdered your parents. We believe he used the extra power to prevent his own death, which could explain how he was able to survive the rebounded killing curse. The second time was the night he was returned to corporeal form. I believe he was dueling with you at the time."

-o-o-o-o-

The next week found Harry and Draco meeting with Dumbledore on numerous occasions, trying to find the best way to determine what Draco's nighttime visions actually were, and how best to harness the knowledge if the visions were a real connection with Voldemort's mind. They had also begun joint Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore at once, in case Voldemort were to ever become aware of his connection to Draco. Harry found that while he was improving dramatically with the addition of another pupil to the class, lessons still left his brain feeling fried afterward.

The next Saturday night, after a particularly grueling session, Harry found himself unable to get to sleep. He kept going over everything they been through this past week. There was so much going through his head, he couldn't even lay it down on his pillow. He paced around his dormitory, wondering what Draco thought about all of this. He knew what it was like to share Voldemort's thoughts when you sleep; he wondered how Draco was handling the notion that his dreams may be more than just dreams.

He had grown surprisingly close to Draco over break, and he was un-looking forward to the return of his fellow students the next day, which would seriously limit his Draco-time. Their time together had been wonderful, but Harry wanted more. He found himself craving Draco's presence, which was understandable. What surprised him was his desire for Draco, in every way possible.

Harry was definitely what you would call sexually inexperienced, but at least he knew the general logistics of heterosexual sex. Gay sex was another matter, and Harry admitted to himself that in that regard he didn't know which way was up. During their time spent in the room of requirement, they had engaged in some seriously heavy petting, but clothes had remained present, though sometimes admittedly disheveled. The number of times over winter break that Harry had relieved the pressure built with Draco in the room of requirement only after they had said their goodnights and Harry had made his way to his dormitory-alone, was staggering.

After dwelling with his thoughts on Draco for a number of minutes, Harry made a flash decision. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map and made his way down to the dungeons.

As he reached the span of wall he knew hid the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, he looked down at the map and read the little speech bubble that had appeared above the dot labeled Harry Potter. After reciting "Oculus Serpens," he stepped into the opening that appeared before him. Seeing on the map that Draco was up in his dormitory, he made his way up the stairs. After a brief hesitation he knocked on the door. Draco answered, peering around with a confused look on his face. It was only after Draco's tentative, "Hello?" that Harry remembered that he was still wearing his invisibility cloak.

He threw it off and threw himself at Draco, barely registering the look of shock on the Slytherin's face before their lips crashed and both boys' eyes fluttered shut.

-o-o-o-o-

The pain behind Draco's eyes gave a particularly painful throb and he sat up in bed, throwing his legs over the edge to put on his slippers, a necessity when one sleeps in the dungeons. He got up and rifled through the trunk at the foot of his bed for a headache cure potion. After swallowing a few drops, he felt the pain melt away instantly, but that only shifted his focus away from his physical discomfort to the reason behind it. He understood the importance of learning to shield his mind in case Voldemort learned of their connection, but he felt that shutting his mind to Voldemort was a bad idea when he could possibly learn something useful through the connection. Plus, the lessons were a pain, and after each session he always felt like someone had put his brain through a meat grinder.

This evening's lesson had been particularly trying. After a few successful sessions of fending off the headmaster's more weak attempts at Leglimancy, he had informed them that this session would involve fighting off one of the stronger Leglimancy spells in Dumbledore's arsenal. It was designed to get at the thoughts that the subject most wanted to remain hidden from the specific caster, which could result in dire consequences in a war with Voldemort, but mainly just embarrassment when the caster was someone you respect or someone in a position of authority over you. For Draco, Dumbledore was both. The warning hadn't really helped them much, and Dumbledore was able to break through both boys' defenses quite easily.

Harry had gone first, which had ended with the Gryffindor blushing and not meeting Dumbledore's gaze. Dumbledore then turned, with what Draco could swear was an amused glint in his eyes, to the Slytherin to cast the spell. The first few thoughts that had been ripped from his mind (an appropriate metaphor, Draco thought, because that's what it felt like afterward) were memories of things he had said about Dumbledore when he was younger. After a few castings, he tried to apologize to the headmaster, but the man would hear none of it. Assuring him that he need not worry about it, they proceeded with the lesson.

The last casting of the evening revealed to Dumbledore one of Draco's memories from earlier in the week involving the Slytherin laying alone in his bed, moaning Harry's name. Draco could swear he had blushed even brighter than Harry, if that were possible, and Dumbledore had taken pity on him and let them go early. Fear of further embarrassment was inspiring Draco to work all the harder to block Dumbledore's attempts from now on, which Draco could swear was the reason Dumbledore had picked that particular spell to use in training. For a Gryffindor, the man was quite sneaky.

Draco sat back in bed, knowing that sleep was going to be an elusive commodity this night. He grabbed a book to read in attempts to slow his mind. Of course, reading was hardly keeping his mind off of Harry. Although this could have been because he had chosen a book about Qudditch, which had brought to mind visions of Harry straddling a broom, gripping the end tightly as he expertly maneuvered through the air, a sight Draco had grown to appreciate over the years, even though it irritated him to no end that Slytherin was always loosing to Gryffindor largely because of that expert maneuvering. Half hour later, he had read the same paragraph about twenty times, and still couldn't say what it had said. As he closed the book he heard a knock on the door.

As the only Slytherin student at Hogwarts over the holidays, Draco figured that it must be Professor Snape at the door, though he couldn't guess as to the reason for the head of Slytherin to visit at this hour in the night. He was even further perplexed when he opened the door to reveal no one. Peaves was a possibility, but it was more the Poltergeist's style to barge into a room, pelting its inhabitants with dungbombs than to knock on the door and disappear afterward.

His tentative, "Hello?" was answered by the flutter of a cloak, and the flurry of motion that was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, pushing the Slytherin backwards into his dormitory and pining him up against a bed with his body. Draco responded without hesitation, only stopping to consider the absurdity of the situation after a few moments of enjoying Harry pressing his body into the rail holding up the canopy on Goyle's bed. Finally, he pushed against Harry's chest, just enough to get some air between their lips.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

"I couldn't sleep. I just wanted to see you," Harry said, pushing Draco back onto the bed behind him and slipping his hands up under Draco's shirt. The added skin to skin contact was making it even harder for the Slytherin to think, but eventually he came to enough to attempt a protest.

"Wait, Harr-"

"Shh, no." The Gryffindor pressed his finger against the Slytherin's mouth before adding, "I just can't stop thinking...I just want…I want you." He kept his finger on Draco's mouth, tracing it gently with his fingertips as he lowered his mouth down to Draco's throat, tracing its contours with his own lips and tongue. Again, Draco's mind went fuzzy, and it took even longer to get it working again. But somehow, through the tingling of his lips and the warm wetness on his neck he was able to string more than two words together that didn't include 'God' 'Harry' or 'yes'.

Pushing up against the Gryffindor's shoulders enough to create some distance between them and allow his mind to start working again, he finally spoke. "No, I mean…This isn't my bed."

Harry pulled back and looked around the room as if expecting to see a sign pointing him in the right direction, and Draco decided to take this as an opportunity to gain control of the situation. He grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him over to his own bed. Pushing him down across the width of the bed, Draco crawled atop him, straddling his hips. Mapping Harry's neck with his mouth, Draco let his hands wander up and down every bit of Harry's body he could reach, letting Harry's breathless gasps and moans guide his every action. Reaching his arms up to push Harry's top over his head, he continued down, playing Harry's body like a master pianist on a Steinway, eliciting sounds from the boy that seemed to shoot straight down to Draco's own cock.

Pulling back more and shifting down onto the floor, Draco positioned himself between Harry's legs dangling off the side of the bed. Kissing Harry's thighs through the fabric of his trousers, he cupped his hand firmly around Harry's already rock hard bulge and forced a warm breath through the layers of fabric. As if the blast of warm air was a shot of adrenaline, Harry tensed up and looked down, meeting Draco's eyes and answering the Slytherin's unspoken question with a nod. Maintaining eye contact, Draco moved up the bed and laid half on top of, and half beside Harry.

He reached down and undid Harry's belt, button and zipper in agonizingly slow movements, watching Harry pant in anticipation. Whenever the Gryffindor would close his eyes at the tumult of sensations bombarding his brain, Draco would stop moving, waiting for him to reestablish eye contact before continuing. Harry caught on quickly, and fought to keep his eyes open and fixed on Draco, whose look of pure want and hunger was just as intense as Harry's aching need. Finally, he reached in and pushed his hand into Harry's pants, slowly sliding open-palmed down his groin and thigh, as far down as he could reach, before coming up quickly in the middle and grasping Harry's swollen cock.

It was far too much for Harry, who had never enjoyed another's touch in such an intimate way. The look in Draco's eyes and the burst of joy in Harry's chest overwhelmed him, and before Draco could even move Harry was exploding over his hand, his body shuddering violently.

"Um, wow," was all Draco could think to say as he watched Harry come down from his orgasm. Draco hadn't expected that to go so quickly, but he knew the night was young. Before Harry could recover fully and register any embarrassment; Draco pulled his pajamas off and lay back in bed, pulling Harry on top of him. They kissed, and Draco let Harry take control.

-o-o-o-o-

He knew he did more than his fair share of fumbling, but he let Draco's responses and his own knowledge of what he liked be his guide. He kissed and explored Draco's body, enjoying the look and feel of it, for once unhampered by clothing. He wrapped his hand around Draco and began to pump, watching Draco's every reaction. He watched as the Syltherin's hands grabbed and pawed at the bed beneath him, he watched as his muscles slowly tightened like a coil ready to snap, he watched as Draco's toes curled and his back arched. When he felt a hand grasp at the back of his neck, he turned in time to see Draco panting and moaning his name as he spilled out over Harry's hand. Watching Draco orgasm was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen. The Slytherin was truly incredible, and Harry watched, slack jawed as Draco recovered, lazily peering up at Harry through heavily lidded eyes. He bent down and kissed the still panting boy beneath him. After a long lazy kiss, Draco pulled back with a grin.

"Sorry about that," Harry tried to apologize.

"Sorry about what?"

"Sorry I-you know-finished so quickly."

Draco smirked up at the other boy before sweeping his eyes down the space between their bodies. "You don't FEEL finished to me," he said, pushing his thigh upwards into Harry's crotch to accentuate his point.

Not realizing how achingly hard he was until Draco pushed up into him, he tried to forced down a blush as he blundered, "Yeah, well. Watching you…the way you…that was hot."

"Well, let's do something about that." He shifted their weight and before Harry could register a response, he found himself on bottom with a very naked Slytherin shimmying his still unfastened trousers down his body. After getting them off and tossing them across the room, the boy remained kneeling at the foot of the bed, finally able to take in the sight of Harry, fully nude and fully hard, spread eagle on a bed. Despite his tendency toward very physical displays of embarrassment and his strong reaction to Draco's touch earlier, Harry lay surprisingly unashamed before the Slytherin now, breathing hard and looking like a sex god as he reached his arms out to Draco.

Not willing to pass up such an enticing offer, the Slytherin slid his body back up the Gryffindor, allowing his already re-hardening member to rub up Harry's length before stopping eye to eye with him and resuming their kiss. With nothing between them now, they hungrily devoured each other. Slow and tentative movements given over to free exploration. Harry was quite vocal as he let his abandon fly and Draco enjoyed eliciting responses from him. He moved down and sucked at a nipple, and Harry's hand flew up and fisted tighly in Draco's hair, words of encouragement replaced with nonsensical growls and moans.

Draco moved down Harry's torso, making a mental list of the most sensitive areas and filing it away for future use. Finally, reaching his destination, he looked back up at Harry as he lowered his mouth down around him, sucking and licking his way slowly back upward. Harry's fist remained almost painfully entwined in Draco's golden locks as he watched the Slytherin quickly plunge down his length and slowly pull back up, again and again, down and up, down and up. He watched as that beautiful mouth stretched tightly around him, lips forming a perfect seal as he sucked upward only to open up and plunge down again. Not wanting it to end, but unable to fight off his orgasm, he shuddered and moaned and Draco enthusiastically drank down everything Harry had to offer.

He crawled up and lay beside the Gryffindor, allowing him time to recover. He rested his head in the crook of Harry's arm and dozed with the boy. He stirred a while later, not knowing how much time had passed, and found Harry rubbing lazy circles up and down his back. He opened his eyes and looked up to find Harry smiling down at him in the pale torch light.

"Hi."

It wasn't the wittiest or most meaningful thing to say, but lying there in Harry's arms, it felt like the most beautifully romantic word Harry could have possibly said.

"Hullo there."

They kissed lazily for a while, before Harry moved in closer and Draco became aware of a number of things. First was that the erection that had come back full force as he had swallowed Harry down earlier remained painfully present now. Second was that Harry was also hard as a rock again. Third was that he wanted nothing more than to do something about numbers one and two. As Harry deepened the kiss, Draco languidly slid his hand between them and began fisting both of them together in a slow, steady rhythm. They kissed as he pumped, one or the other of them occasionally breaking the kiss to lock eyes or move lips to other accessible regions. Their movements before now had been needy, with a feverish intensity, but now they took their time to enjoy the look and feel of each other. This time was no less intense, though, as it was thick- heavy with emotion, more personal and intimate. They took their time, building a slow rhythm, gently thrusting together as Draco pumped, whispering each other's names like prayers to an unnamed god. Finally they came together in unison as if it had been planned that way. Shuddering into each other's arms, they moaned each other's names and touched foreheads, an unspoken vow passed between them. They fell asleep, entangled into each other and at peace.

End Chapter Ten