Author's notes: Hola! Er, I mean, salut, ca va? I can just hear John now.
"No, *I* take Spanish, you take French." God he's a pain in the bum.
Anyway, back on topic. Ha! Like I'm ever on topic. I should so be working
on "Call and Answer," but hey, listening to the Barenaked Ladies' Disc One
throws me off track. There's so many songs on here I wanna write fics to.
And what's really not a good idea is listening to "Lovers In A Dangerous
Time" while trying to write a fic based on "Thanks That Was Fun." 'Cuz I
almost just looked up the lyrics to "Lovers." Anyhoo, this is a short
Harry/Draco songfic, loosely based on BNL's "Thanks That Was Fun" (duh). It
came out nothing like I wanted, but whatever. This was supposed to be dark,
possibly something that happened after Draco raped Harry...*Sigh* I still
like it. Well, what are you waiting for? Read! Oh, like I haven't said this
enough lately, but you really should read The Long Hard Road Out Of Hell by
Marilyn Manson.
~*~*~*~
Thanks, That Was Fun
~*~*~*~
The wall wasn't getting any more interesting.
Draco had lost track of how long he had been sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, trying to block out the thoughts that had been buzzing around in his mind. And trying to keep the tears that stung at his eyes from falling. Not that it mattered. He was alone in the dormitory. But that wasn't the point.
What had he been thinking, anyway? This whole thing was his own fault, and-
Great. Just great. Those thoughts that he was trying to ignore were slipping through again. Draco went back to staring at the wall, but it was beginning to blur through the film of water over his eyes.
Slowly, calmly, he got up from the bed, walked over to the wall, and put his fist through it.
Well, that wasn't exactly correct. Considering that the wall was made of stone, it was more like it went through his hand, not the other way around. Draco stared numbly at his now-bloody fingers. He was fairly sure at least one of them was broken-he had hit the wall hard. But that didn't matter. In fact, his hand didn't even hurt. It just felt...numb. Like the rest of him. But maybe that was only because he kept repeating to himself that he was not feeling anything. *Would* not feel anything. And he absolutely would not think about what he had done. Because then he would have to think about how stupid it had been, and how he had made a complete and total ass of himself-
Oh, no. He wouldn't think about it. If he didn't think about it, that would mean it hadn't happened. And he wouldn't regret it, because it had never happened. Draco slumped to the floor, leaning against the stone wall, blood flowing onto the floor, and tried again to block all thoughts from his mind, unsuccessfully. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole thing beginning to unfold again...
~*~*~*~
The corridor had been empty. He was thankful, at least, for that. He honestly hadn't known that Potter would be coming this way. That was simply a lucky, or, as it turned out, unlucky, coincidence. Actually, at first, Draco hadn't been sure it was really him. He had just been sitting in the dim corridor, having nowhere better to go and not feeling like going back to the Slytherin common room. Because what he really wanted to do was...daydream about Potter. The thought sickened him slightly, but it was true. And the common room was no place to do that. And he had had his eyes closed, picturing that perfect face, and those perfect eyes [A/N: Note that I said NOTHING about deep green! Yeesh...], and those perfect lips, and then he had opened his eyes. And found himself staring into that very face. At first he was sure he was still dreaming. But no, Potter was coming down the corridor toward him, and he was standing up, and moving to block the way...
"Malfoy." His voice had sounded tired, bored. "What are you doing here?"
Draco had opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. What was *wrong* with him? For a moment he had actually considered telling Potter what he *had* been doing. But he was far too chicken for that, besides the fact that the other boy would think he had gone mad. But if he was too spineless to tell the truth, he could at least respond with one of his usual insults...but those had vanished as well, leaving him with no words whatsoever.
"Ah..." His eyes broke away from Potter's, which were looking more annoyed by the minute. The thing was, they dropped to his lips, and they looked so...well, perfect. That was when the thought had entered his mind, and before he knew what he was doing, his own lips were pressing against those perfect ones, and his arms were wrapped around Potter, who made a small noise of surprise, and then, to Draco's great surprise, seemed to melt into the kiss, and-was it his imagination?-even kiss him back. But when he pulled away, the look of pure shock on Potter's face told him he had been correct. He was imagining things. The other boy's eyes showed nothing but fear and disgust, and Draco turned and ran.
~*~*~*~
Draco pounded his bloodied fist into the wall again, sobbing now. Damn it, what was wrong with him? When had he become such an incredible sap? Rubbing a hand harshly over his eyes, tears and blood mingling, he stood. He should probably go to see Madam Pomfrey. But first he needed to wash his face, because he looked...well, he didn't want to imagine how he looked. Peering slowly around the door, he saw that the common room was empty, thankfully. He raced for the door before anyone could come in, see him, and wonder what was wrong. After Madam Pomfrey, he thought, he needed to go and find Potter. Even though he was humiliated, and would prefer never to see the boy again, he needed to make sure that word of this never- NEVER-got out. Well, he thought, if it did, he could always blame Potter. Find some way to make it all *his* fault. Slipping out the door, Draco started down the hall.
And suddenly gasped in shock.
Oh, this time it was definitely a hallucination, because there was no *way* that Potter was standing right in front of him, blocking the hallway as he himself had done not long ago.
Or maybe there was. Maybe he had come to demand an explanation, or to beat Draco bloody-bloodier-or...but he was...smiling?
"It took you long enough. I've been waiting out here almost an hour," he said, smiling broadly, before pulling Draco closer to him, kissing him just as Draco had kissed him earlier...only this kiss didn't end for a long time. And neither did the next one...or the next...or the next...
~*~*~*~
Thanks, That Was Fun
~*~*~*~
The wall wasn't getting any more interesting.
Draco had lost track of how long he had been sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, trying to block out the thoughts that had been buzzing around in his mind. And trying to keep the tears that stung at his eyes from falling. Not that it mattered. He was alone in the dormitory. But that wasn't the point.
What had he been thinking, anyway? This whole thing was his own fault, and-
Great. Just great. Those thoughts that he was trying to ignore were slipping through again. Draco went back to staring at the wall, but it was beginning to blur through the film of water over his eyes.
Slowly, calmly, he got up from the bed, walked over to the wall, and put his fist through it.
Well, that wasn't exactly correct. Considering that the wall was made of stone, it was more like it went through his hand, not the other way around. Draco stared numbly at his now-bloody fingers. He was fairly sure at least one of them was broken-he had hit the wall hard. But that didn't matter. In fact, his hand didn't even hurt. It just felt...numb. Like the rest of him. But maybe that was only because he kept repeating to himself that he was not feeling anything. *Would* not feel anything. And he absolutely would not think about what he had done. Because then he would have to think about how stupid it had been, and how he had made a complete and total ass of himself-
Oh, no. He wouldn't think about it. If he didn't think about it, that would mean it hadn't happened. And he wouldn't regret it, because it had never happened. Draco slumped to the floor, leaning against the stone wall, blood flowing onto the floor, and tried again to block all thoughts from his mind, unsuccessfully. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole thing beginning to unfold again...
~*~*~*~
The corridor had been empty. He was thankful, at least, for that. He honestly hadn't known that Potter would be coming this way. That was simply a lucky, or, as it turned out, unlucky, coincidence. Actually, at first, Draco hadn't been sure it was really him. He had just been sitting in the dim corridor, having nowhere better to go and not feeling like going back to the Slytherin common room. Because what he really wanted to do was...daydream about Potter. The thought sickened him slightly, but it was true. And the common room was no place to do that. And he had had his eyes closed, picturing that perfect face, and those perfect eyes [A/N: Note that I said NOTHING about deep green! Yeesh...], and those perfect lips, and then he had opened his eyes. And found himself staring into that very face. At first he was sure he was still dreaming. But no, Potter was coming down the corridor toward him, and he was standing up, and moving to block the way...
"Malfoy." His voice had sounded tired, bored. "What are you doing here?"
Draco had opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. What was *wrong* with him? For a moment he had actually considered telling Potter what he *had* been doing. But he was far too chicken for that, besides the fact that the other boy would think he had gone mad. But if he was too spineless to tell the truth, he could at least respond with one of his usual insults...but those had vanished as well, leaving him with no words whatsoever.
"Ah..." His eyes broke away from Potter's, which were looking more annoyed by the minute. The thing was, they dropped to his lips, and they looked so...well, perfect. That was when the thought had entered his mind, and before he knew what he was doing, his own lips were pressing against those perfect ones, and his arms were wrapped around Potter, who made a small noise of surprise, and then, to Draco's great surprise, seemed to melt into the kiss, and-was it his imagination?-even kiss him back. But when he pulled away, the look of pure shock on Potter's face told him he had been correct. He was imagining things. The other boy's eyes showed nothing but fear and disgust, and Draco turned and ran.
~*~*~*~
Draco pounded his bloodied fist into the wall again, sobbing now. Damn it, what was wrong with him? When had he become such an incredible sap? Rubbing a hand harshly over his eyes, tears and blood mingling, he stood. He should probably go to see Madam Pomfrey. But first he needed to wash his face, because he looked...well, he didn't want to imagine how he looked. Peering slowly around the door, he saw that the common room was empty, thankfully. He raced for the door before anyone could come in, see him, and wonder what was wrong. After Madam Pomfrey, he thought, he needed to go and find Potter. Even though he was humiliated, and would prefer never to see the boy again, he needed to make sure that word of this never- NEVER-got out. Well, he thought, if it did, he could always blame Potter. Find some way to make it all *his* fault. Slipping out the door, Draco started down the hall.
And suddenly gasped in shock.
Oh, this time it was definitely a hallucination, because there was no *way* that Potter was standing right in front of him, blocking the hallway as he himself had done not long ago.
Or maybe there was. Maybe he had come to demand an explanation, or to beat Draco bloody-bloodier-or...but he was...smiling?
"It took you long enough. I've been waiting out here almost an hour," he said, smiling broadly, before pulling Draco closer to him, kissing him just as Draco had kissed him earlier...only this kiss didn't end for a long time. And neither did the next one...or the next...or the next...