Part II- Unsatisfied equations
Ron stood, wide-eyed over Draco's limp form, Harry breathed heavily and dropped to his knees.
They had just been about to leave their quiet retreat, when they had seen Draco fall in a dead faint. They of course came running through the trees to see what was happening.
"Do you think he saw anything?" Harry turned to Ron and back to Draco. "Malfoy? Can you hear me?" Harry put his ear to the unmoving chest and reached up to Draco's ivory neck.
"He hardly has a pulse."
Words flitted through Ron's mind, none of them constructive or helpful in any way… 'Of course he doesn't have a pulse- he's Beelzebub reincarnated'. His mind started to reel in a heated frenzy.
Harry looked up at Ron, panic making him an image of wild beauty. Ron sucked in his breath, biting back the urge to forget about the git lying on the ground before them, in pursuit of more relevant issues.
"Ron, his breathing is really shallow! What do we do...Don't just stand there!"
Ron glanced at the pale boy. What were they meant to do. God, he had never been in this situation before. He was in some kind of alternate reality and this catastrophe wasn't real. What if he died? He was Malfoy, but he was still a person, still alive- wasn't he? Ron was in some kind of controlled breakdown, like the sun- a disciplined nuclear bomb, a huge mass of fire and nuclear fusion.
Harry on the other hand seemed to have lost his head. His eyes were bright and frantic.
"Ron! Is there a Hogsmeade nurse or something?"
"Um, I dunno, I mean, ummm…I never bothered to find out, I mean…"
Harry interrupted his ramblings with a ruthless urgency. "Ron! We have to fly to Hogwarts. I'll go and get the brooms. Do something to help Malfoy, um…artificial respiration or something."
"Artificial what?"
"You know…mouth to mouth…"
"What! No way! I may be gay Harry, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to kiss any old bloke."
"Ron, this is serious!"
"So am I. And anyway, I have no idea how it's done."
Harry bit down on his lip. He had passed a first aid class years ago when he attended primary school, and he wasn't feeling too confident about this. It could be dangerous if it went wrong, but something made Harry want to do this. He didn't understand the disgust on Ron's face or the fact that he didn't feel the same way. All that he knew was that he didn't want this boy to die. He and Draco, they were opposites. Opposites wouldn't be able to survive without each other, what was evil without good. Would white look so pure without black? They were a balance- and Harry just knew he would miss the jabs, the wit, the eloquence. No one else could possibly make Harry react like Draco did. There was no way Harry could let another human die, without doing everything he could to help them live; even if that meant saving his adversary.
"Ok, Ron. Just go and get the brooms, where did we leave them...Oh yeah, The Three Broomsticks…run!"
Ron was already on his way, sprinting through the trees until he disappeared from view, a confused and appalled expression on his face.
Harry gave himself a mental shake. Right. Now what?
He rested his hand carefully on Draco's small chest, feeling the slight warmth penetrate his skin. He thought carefully. What was it that you were meant to do first? He bent his head low over Draco's upturned face, and turned his head so that his ear was just above the other boy's pale pink lips. There was a small breath of hot air.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief; at least he wasn't dead.
He watched for chest movements looking across Draco's form, from his bent position. He could see almost no moment- that wasn't a good sign.
With his palm, he gently tilted Draco's head back, marvelling at his perfect smooth skin under his hand…
Draco could feel something tugging him back to presence. He didn't want to leave the safety of this dream. It was a warm blanket of fantasy- there he was, and Harry, and Ron. Even though he knew it had to end- just a little more.
Harry was facing him, something lighting up those emerald eyes. Was it Draco? Ron was in the background, but he wasn't paying them attention, he couldn't even see them. He was playing on the sand with his younger sister and his twin brothers. But here they were- Harry and him. Face to face, high on the dunes, unsheltered from the rough winds and in the efflorescence of the waking dawn. Hair, wind swept, unkempt and seductive- Harry was almost too much for Draco to take. Was this what he wanted? He who had hated Harry all of his life and now here they were together, like an unanswered question.
He almost forgot to breathe as Harry stepped closer, placing his gentle hands on Draco's narrow shoulders. He was staring deep into Draco's eyes, lips parted slightly and glistening in the half-light. Draco dared not look away for fear of losing this sight. He was helplessly trapped in Harry's gaze, locking them together in time.
Draco gasped slightly as Harry moved closer and their lips met.
This felt too pure, so real.
Draco was being pulled through the dimensions of the unconscious. He was alive to new sensations and he felt awake.
He finally opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Harry's black locks and feel Harry's lips meet his own.
Almost automatically, he took Harry's mouth in his own, and began to explore with his tongue.
And almost automatically, Harry responded, letting Draco slip inside his mouth, nipping and sucking slowly.
Was this a dream?
Suddenly, they both seemed to realise that this was real. Harry took a sharp intake of breath, in utter surprise, leaving Draco lying on the grass under him, gasping for breath. They stared at each other, lips still tingling and aching slightly for more of the same, Harry looking down at the vision before him. Draco was panting, soft blonde half-curls spread around him like a halo.
"I- what…What the hell were you doing Potter?" Draco spoke from his vulnerable position, staring straight up, into Harry's eyes.
"What was I doing? What were *you* doing? You fainted, and I was trying to give you… artificial respiration."
"What the hell is arty-- respiration, and why the hell did you have to do it, and where the hell am I?"
Harry didn't know what to say or do. He was dazed. What did Draco just do to him?
"And," added Draco, "I'm sure that…*that* wasn't going to help me breathe."
"*That* is what *you* did to *me* Malfoy." Harry emphasised with sting in his tone, still leaning over the other boy, faces only inches away, lips only inches away.
Harry moved from his place over Draco to sit with his back against the tree trunk, and Draco hoisted himself onto his elbows, staring intently at the other boy. He knew that he had kissed Harry first. He knew he had taken Harry, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit anything to the Griffindor boy.
"It doesn't make sense Potter." He said coolly.
"No, it doesn't."
"I mean, that if I *did* initiate it, then why on earth did you respond?"
Harry was lost for words. He broke their eye contacts, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose, where his black-framed glasses sat like a constitution.
Draco continued to look at the other boy through his longish, wispy hair. He let the shock settle in his mind, - he was always the logical one, clear-headed and practical. Why did Harry kiss him back? Was it a reflex? Was he thinking of Weasley? Or even Florence?
Or was there something there? Some unexpressed feeling, waiting to be given the opportunity to exist in its full form. Draco could still taste the other boys mouth on his own, and all he wanted to do was to pull him down for another life-long joining of souls. But that was out of the question. He was obviously deluded, he had fainted and felt dizzy- he must be ill. Surely it was all some far-fetched dream?
Harry turned his dark head to glance at Draco once more.
"Why are you staring at me?"
Draco looked back at him steadily. "I was just wondering what Weasley could possibly see in you."
"I see plenty thank you."
Ron emanated from the depths of the wood, carrying two broomsticks.
Harry and Draco both looked a little startled at his sudden appearance.
"I see that you're awake, Malfoy" Ron said, only slightly out of breath as he had flown the way back.
"Oh, how very observant."
"And that you were obviously spying on us."
Draco realised his mistake immediately. Damn.
His expression remained a picture of discipline, as usual, however. His voice did not quaver or reveal his emotions.
"Just casually strolling along, only to hear the call of the Weasel."
Ron had the decency to blush at this last comment.
He threw the broomstick at Draco without another word, and commanding his own to levitate.
"Both of you?" Draco said with a smirk, masking perfectly his re-emerging anger.
Harry climbed on the back of Ron's broomstick, without so much as a glance in Draco's direction.
"I assume you're well enough to fly, Malfoy?" Ron asked coldly.
"Fine."
They ascended the colder air, until they were flying above the treetops. Draco followed the other broom without question, suddenly too tired to think about the chaos that had just crashed down upon him. He felt a wave of sickness run through him. All he could think about was the feeling that he, Draco, wanted to be on the other broom instead of Weasley. He wanted to be the one that Harry clung to in the air. He wanted Harry's hot breaths on his neck and the soft sound of Harry's voice in his ear. But how could that be. No, it wasn't right. It was so improper; how would that even be conceivable? He was a Malfoy for God's sake. His father would be furious and would probably disown him for looking at another boy never mind kissing, never mind Potter. No, he could never be free. He could never sing his own song. He was duty bound.
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed Part I. The confusion does get better, I promise. If you think it is really un-understandable (I have no idea where I got that word from :) , please tell me so that I can improve.
Sorry I posted the last chapter so many times, it would let me submit it.
Part III of 'Surreal??' is up, called 'The Reckless Sleeper' if anyone's interested? *smirks*… BTW, do you prefer this series to 'Surreal??' Please let me know.
Bye.
~finite
Ron stood, wide-eyed over Draco's limp form, Harry breathed heavily and dropped to his knees.
They had just been about to leave their quiet retreat, when they had seen Draco fall in a dead faint. They of course came running through the trees to see what was happening.
"Do you think he saw anything?" Harry turned to Ron and back to Draco. "Malfoy? Can you hear me?" Harry put his ear to the unmoving chest and reached up to Draco's ivory neck.
"He hardly has a pulse."
Words flitted through Ron's mind, none of them constructive or helpful in any way… 'Of course he doesn't have a pulse- he's Beelzebub reincarnated'. His mind started to reel in a heated frenzy.
Harry looked up at Ron, panic making him an image of wild beauty. Ron sucked in his breath, biting back the urge to forget about the git lying on the ground before them, in pursuit of more relevant issues.
"Ron, his breathing is really shallow! What do we do...Don't just stand there!"
Ron glanced at the pale boy. What were they meant to do. God, he had never been in this situation before. He was in some kind of alternate reality and this catastrophe wasn't real. What if he died? He was Malfoy, but he was still a person, still alive- wasn't he? Ron was in some kind of controlled breakdown, like the sun- a disciplined nuclear bomb, a huge mass of fire and nuclear fusion.
Harry on the other hand seemed to have lost his head. His eyes were bright and frantic.
"Ron! Is there a Hogsmeade nurse or something?"
"Um, I dunno, I mean, ummm…I never bothered to find out, I mean…"
Harry interrupted his ramblings with a ruthless urgency. "Ron! We have to fly to Hogwarts. I'll go and get the brooms. Do something to help Malfoy, um…artificial respiration or something."
"Artificial what?"
"You know…mouth to mouth…"
"What! No way! I may be gay Harry, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to kiss any old bloke."
"Ron, this is serious!"
"So am I. And anyway, I have no idea how it's done."
Harry bit down on his lip. He had passed a first aid class years ago when he attended primary school, and he wasn't feeling too confident about this. It could be dangerous if it went wrong, but something made Harry want to do this. He didn't understand the disgust on Ron's face or the fact that he didn't feel the same way. All that he knew was that he didn't want this boy to die. He and Draco, they were opposites. Opposites wouldn't be able to survive without each other, what was evil without good. Would white look so pure without black? They were a balance- and Harry just knew he would miss the jabs, the wit, the eloquence. No one else could possibly make Harry react like Draco did. There was no way Harry could let another human die, without doing everything he could to help them live; even if that meant saving his adversary.
"Ok, Ron. Just go and get the brooms, where did we leave them...Oh yeah, The Three Broomsticks…run!"
Ron was already on his way, sprinting through the trees until he disappeared from view, a confused and appalled expression on his face.
Harry gave himself a mental shake. Right. Now what?
He rested his hand carefully on Draco's small chest, feeling the slight warmth penetrate his skin. He thought carefully. What was it that you were meant to do first? He bent his head low over Draco's upturned face, and turned his head so that his ear was just above the other boy's pale pink lips. There was a small breath of hot air.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief; at least he wasn't dead.
He watched for chest movements looking across Draco's form, from his bent position. He could see almost no moment- that wasn't a good sign.
With his palm, he gently tilted Draco's head back, marvelling at his perfect smooth skin under his hand…
Draco could feel something tugging him back to presence. He didn't want to leave the safety of this dream. It was a warm blanket of fantasy- there he was, and Harry, and Ron. Even though he knew it had to end- just a little more.
Harry was facing him, something lighting up those emerald eyes. Was it Draco? Ron was in the background, but he wasn't paying them attention, he couldn't even see them. He was playing on the sand with his younger sister and his twin brothers. But here they were- Harry and him. Face to face, high on the dunes, unsheltered from the rough winds and in the efflorescence of the waking dawn. Hair, wind swept, unkempt and seductive- Harry was almost too much for Draco to take. Was this what he wanted? He who had hated Harry all of his life and now here they were together, like an unanswered question.
He almost forgot to breathe as Harry stepped closer, placing his gentle hands on Draco's narrow shoulders. He was staring deep into Draco's eyes, lips parted slightly and glistening in the half-light. Draco dared not look away for fear of losing this sight. He was helplessly trapped in Harry's gaze, locking them together in time.
Draco gasped slightly as Harry moved closer and their lips met.
This felt too pure, so real.
Draco was being pulled through the dimensions of the unconscious. He was alive to new sensations and he felt awake.
He finally opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Harry's black locks and feel Harry's lips meet his own.
Almost automatically, he took Harry's mouth in his own, and began to explore with his tongue.
And almost automatically, Harry responded, letting Draco slip inside his mouth, nipping and sucking slowly.
Was this a dream?
Suddenly, they both seemed to realise that this was real. Harry took a sharp intake of breath, in utter surprise, leaving Draco lying on the grass under him, gasping for breath. They stared at each other, lips still tingling and aching slightly for more of the same, Harry looking down at the vision before him. Draco was panting, soft blonde half-curls spread around him like a halo.
"I- what…What the hell were you doing Potter?" Draco spoke from his vulnerable position, staring straight up, into Harry's eyes.
"What was I doing? What were *you* doing? You fainted, and I was trying to give you… artificial respiration."
"What the hell is arty-- respiration, and why the hell did you have to do it, and where the hell am I?"
Harry didn't know what to say or do. He was dazed. What did Draco just do to him?
"And," added Draco, "I'm sure that…*that* wasn't going to help me breathe."
"*That* is what *you* did to *me* Malfoy." Harry emphasised with sting in his tone, still leaning over the other boy, faces only inches away, lips only inches away.
Harry moved from his place over Draco to sit with his back against the tree trunk, and Draco hoisted himself onto his elbows, staring intently at the other boy. He knew that he had kissed Harry first. He knew he had taken Harry, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit anything to the Griffindor boy.
"It doesn't make sense Potter." He said coolly.
"No, it doesn't."
"I mean, that if I *did* initiate it, then why on earth did you respond?"
Harry was lost for words. He broke their eye contacts, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose, where his black-framed glasses sat like a constitution.
Draco continued to look at the other boy through his longish, wispy hair. He let the shock settle in his mind, - he was always the logical one, clear-headed and practical. Why did Harry kiss him back? Was it a reflex? Was he thinking of Weasley? Or even Florence?
Or was there something there? Some unexpressed feeling, waiting to be given the opportunity to exist in its full form. Draco could still taste the other boys mouth on his own, and all he wanted to do was to pull him down for another life-long joining of souls. But that was out of the question. He was obviously deluded, he had fainted and felt dizzy- he must be ill. Surely it was all some far-fetched dream?
Harry turned his dark head to glance at Draco once more.
"Why are you staring at me?"
Draco looked back at him steadily. "I was just wondering what Weasley could possibly see in you."
"I see plenty thank you."
Ron emanated from the depths of the wood, carrying two broomsticks.
Harry and Draco both looked a little startled at his sudden appearance.
"I see that you're awake, Malfoy" Ron said, only slightly out of breath as he had flown the way back.
"Oh, how very observant."
"And that you were obviously spying on us."
Draco realised his mistake immediately. Damn.
His expression remained a picture of discipline, as usual, however. His voice did not quaver or reveal his emotions.
"Just casually strolling along, only to hear the call of the Weasel."
Ron had the decency to blush at this last comment.
He threw the broomstick at Draco without another word, and commanding his own to levitate.
"Both of you?" Draco said with a smirk, masking perfectly his re-emerging anger.
Harry climbed on the back of Ron's broomstick, without so much as a glance in Draco's direction.
"I assume you're well enough to fly, Malfoy?" Ron asked coldly.
"Fine."
They ascended the colder air, until they were flying above the treetops. Draco followed the other broom without question, suddenly too tired to think about the chaos that had just crashed down upon him. He felt a wave of sickness run through him. All he could think about was the feeling that he, Draco, wanted to be on the other broom instead of Weasley. He wanted to be the one that Harry clung to in the air. He wanted Harry's hot breaths on his neck and the soft sound of Harry's voice in his ear. But how could that be. No, it wasn't right. It was so improper; how would that even be conceivable? He was a Malfoy for God's sake. His father would be furious and would probably disown him for looking at another boy never mind kissing, never mind Potter. No, he could never be free. He could never sing his own song. He was duty bound.
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed Part I. The confusion does get better, I promise. If you think it is really un-understandable (I have no idea where I got that word from :) , please tell me so that I can improve.
Sorry I posted the last chapter so many times, it would let me submit it.
Part III of 'Surreal??' is up, called 'The Reckless Sleeper' if anyone's interested? *smirks*… BTW, do you prefer this series to 'Surreal??' Please let me know.
Bye.
~finite
