Hello all! This is a Harry/Draco Slash fic and there is a bit of OOC's on it. I am considering turning this into a series, but it depends on how this first story is received. Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks! Standard disclaimers and all that jazz.
He frowned at Professor McGonagall as she asked the question. He noticed that many of his schoolmates looked as bewildered as he felt. Even Hermione, that know-it-all, holier-than-thou friend of his looked at a loss. Whether she was disconcerted at the reaction of the class, Professor McGonagall posed the question again. "What are your intentions in life?" she repeated. "Not goals. Remember that goals and intentions are very different." She paused. "I want a three foot essay written on this topic, to be handed in next week. Also I want to see the completed formulae for the animagi transformation. Dismissed."
Hermione swept over to Harry and Ron and began chattering excitedly about the class as Ron answered in monosyllabic grunts. Harry suddenly was not in the mood for his friends' companionship and fell behind them, becoming lost in the crowd. "It's not like they'd notice my absence anyways." He muttered bitterly.
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
How could a question rattle me so? Does McGonagall know? I thought I had kept it hidden well 0 but apparently not well enough. Have any of the teachers noticed? Why would they? The fact that I avoid all talk of the future - to me it's a moot point. Do I even have a future? I'm the saviour of wizard kind after all – I am destined to fight Voldemort again. In the end what does thoughts of the future matter? Aren't I destined to die?
Look at all of them sitting here, no worries, no thoughts beyond if they'll have a date this weekend. Are anyone's thoughts as dark as mine? Does anybody notice? Does anyone care?
* * * *
So enraptured in this thoughts was he that Harry failed to notice where he was walking until he blinked and looked around suddenly. Lost in the dungeons. 'How appropriate.' He thought cynically as he began to attempt to retrace his steps.
"Ah potions," thought Draco Malfoy gleefully. "A class of torturing and tormented stupid Gryffindors, of seeing how much trouble I can get Potter into." With a gleam in his eyes he took his seat, nodding to his Head of House and waiting. An opportunity would arise.
Draco allowed himself a satisfied smirk. Multiple opportunities had arisen this class. It was as if someone slipped a Confundus Potion in their pumpkin juice. The Gryffindors – even Granger were doing so poorly that Snape had stopped deducting points – perhaps because of the new rule set last year that no more than a hundred points could be deducted by one teacher per class. As usual, he looked as though he had trod through something disgusting, the sneer on his face. He was livid but hadn't given detentions yet. Malfoy was about to get involved and change things – Slytherin style. 'Oh Salazar this is TOO easy. Fruit off the vine.' He thought smugly. He briefly debating focusing on Potter who so obviously was in the ozone that it would have been a small matter. But he always chose Potter and it was too obvious. He needed to target someone insignificant, someone who wouldn't suspect him. Longbottom? No, far too easy. Finnegan? No again. Thomas? Yes…yes there were possibilities there. He was a background guy, brought into the circle of main Gryffindors at odd moments. It was done Draco decided. 'Thomas it is.'
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
I really was in an internal struggle, wanting to desperately to choose Potter as my victim. But I didn't. I took pity on him and I have no idea why. He looks so miserable today – as if he has realized something and he doesn't like it. Look at him, sneering at the Weasel and the Mudblood. Is this his pure blood pride coming out? No, it can't be, but why else would he look at them with such disdain on his face? What could possibly upset him so much? Why does it matter to me in any case?
* * * *
Draco, through sheer careless negligence managed to miscount the amount of powered snake venom he added to his potion causing a spectacular explosion, one that not even Longbottom or Finnegan could compete with. All eyes turned to Malfoy who managed to keep from looking ashamed. He had been trained well. "Well Malfoy?" Snape asked in a cold voice. Draco could tell that he was furious. The calmer his voice, the more dangerous he got. "I thought the Gryffindors were the only idiots in here today." He paused. "Apparently I was wrong."
Draco decided that if he was going down, he wasn't going alone. "Potter sir. He distracted me."
It seemed as if Snape's head rotated to face Harry. "Well Potter?" he asked, livid. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
Why did Malfoy have to mention me? Oh I know – because he's a tremendous pouffy prat. It won't matter that I did nothing wrong, won't matter that I wasn't even looking in his direction. No, I have been targeted. Bastard. I look at Snape waiting for an answer – but I have none to give him, nothing he'll want to hear. No I can say nothing in my defence, so I say nothing at all. I don't have the energy within me to fight.
If possible Snape looks angrier than I have ever seen him. "I'm waiting Potter." He spits at me.
Well…in for a penny… "Wait until the world ends you greasy old bastard." I hear the words tumble out of my mouth and now it's too late to take them back. Would I if I could? He can't deduct any further points from us this class, but I can tell from the intense burning in his eyes that the fires of hell are about to consume me.
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
'Is he suicidal?' I think incredulously. 'Has he thoroughly, totally and COMPLETELY lost his senses?'
* * * *
Snape's face grew tighter than anyone had ever seen it. Several began laying mental bets on if it could be sucked in completely. "Detention Potter." He said softly, fury lacing his voice. "Detention. You now have so much detention that your GRAND-children will still be serving it."
"If it makes you happy you power hungry lunatic." Harry replied off handed, the remark of a person who has nothing left to lose.
"Leave this class at once." Snape said through gritted teeth.
"Gladly." Was this really Harry or a Polyjuice Potion and a Slytherin in disguise?
"Go to the Headmaster immediately." Snape pointed to the door.
Harry shrugged and looked at Professor Snape, a bit of defiance in those eyes. "In the end Professor, what does all this matter?"
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
Well Potter certainly knows how to make an exit. The startled silence in the classroom seemed to echo. Snape had a thoughtful expression on his face instead of the fury we expected to see. Granger and Weasley looked stunned. I was certain they would offer him some kind of inane platitude that he didn't need or want. It's definite. There is something seriously wrong with him and I am now making it my mission to find out what. Why do I care? Why? He's my hated rival, he means nothing to me, yet…I care. WHY?
* * * *
Harry didn't show up in the Headmaster's office that day, nor the next. He stopped going to classes, stopped playing Quidditch. He spent his time wandering near the lake, near the Forbidden Forest. It was a mystery to one and all why he was acting this way. Trelawney hailed it as Harry going crazy at last, Ron as Harry needing to spill a big secret but it was nothing a few games of Snap wouldn't solve. Hermione began observing him, Dumbledore's twinkle was gone when he looked at Harry. Seamus. Dean. Neville. McGonagall. Lupin. Sirius. All watched as he seemed to collapse in on himself.
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
I truly think that I am going insane. I can't handle this anymore, can't take it. I want it to end – this emptiness inside. I can't though because I have to be the hope of the world, whether I want it or not. I feel like I'm suffocating with all this agony inside. I say nothing to anyone, locked in a shell of silence. Silence greets me and I greet it back. Even Ron and Hermione have stopped talking to me – they could never understand. I'm screaming in my head. I'm howling inside where no one can hear me. I'm trapped in a cage I didn't create. Is this all my life will be?
* * * *
Professor McGonagall didn't hide the surprise in her eyes when Harry handed in his homework completed. The essay on intentions was six feet instead of the required three. She hoped that reading it would give her some valuable insight on one who was a mystery now.
* * * *
DRACO' S POV
They don't get it. They just don't get it. I get it. I understand. I can help him but why should I? Why would I want to? I know why but it can't be true. It can't. I'm a Malfoy, we're not built this way, not build for this. I want to help him; I want to ease his pain. I Know why. Somehow, amidst all the hatred, amidst the fighting, plotting and scheming I learned to admire him…even like him. Perhaps it's because I saw a different side to him than just the Golden Boy Perfect Man of Gryffindor. I have seen his darkness and I answer it. We are not so different, Harry Potter and me.
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
I know what I need, but no one can give it. Not just someone to listen, but someone to give me something more. I know who I want. I'm shocked that I swing that way, shocked that it's HIM. And I don't care, because he could never, EVER feel anything but contempt for me. He cannot give me what I need – or could he? He's always been in the corner of my vision, so much a part of me, like Ron or Hermione, yet I notice something different about him. Could it be he's kindred? I turn a corner and Malfoy is there. "What do you want?" I ask wearily.
* * * *
"What are your intentions towards me?" Harry asked Malfoy as he came ever closer, a predator claiming his prey, but Harry had no intention of playing this game until he knew the rules – and the rule could change at any time. He refused to submit to Malfoy – though he wanted to…or did he? Was it attraction or loathing he felt towards him? Revulsion or lust?
"Will you give in to what you are hiding Potter?" Malfoy asked in a silky voice. "How are those precious Gryffindors reacting to your coldness?"
"Malfoy, don't play with a lion because it just might bite you." Harry warned as Draco came ever closer.
"I take my chances." Draco breathed.
Harry stood back and looked at him through critical eyes, and for a brief moment saw a flare of understanding there. Two people playing with fire – who would be burned and who would be unscathed? Turning on his heel, he walked rapidly away, leaving Draco staring after him, an evil smile on his face.
Professor McGonagall carried Harry's essay into the Staff room where Dumbledore sat drinking some cocoa. "Albus," she said quietly. "Read this."
Silence fell as Dumbledore reached for the parchment. "Quite a long essay Minerva."
"Three feet longer than I requested."
His blue eyes scanned the essay and he sat back smiling. "As I thought Minerva. Read it aloud to your class, post it where everyone can read it. It's the best thing I've read in a long time and I finally understand. Don't you?"
McGonagall nodded. "I think I do."
Intentions, by Harry J. Potter, Gryffindor House
What are your intentions in life? A question that is seemingly innocent yet can hit one with the force of many bludgers. My intentions in life are merely to survive. Surprised yet? Don't be. It's all I've ever done, all I'll ever do. I survived a lethal attack through means not my own. I survived living with the worst sort of muggles, undergoing trials and tribulations that could appear insignificant, small and petty now. What is a beating or starvation in a cupboard when the fate of Wizard kind rests in my unwilling hands?
My intentions in life? I've never given it much thought, and all evidence I have seems to lead to the short life. I don't think about the future, I never have because I live by the assumption that I didn't have one. It's not just who has this point of view…many others do as well. People tell me to plan for my future with their mouths, tell me how brave I am, yet I see that they don't care. I am a tool, set towards a specific purpose, to fulfill a certain destiny. What I want doesn't matter as long as I do what everyone wants me to do. If I die, it's not great loss, I died doing what I was meant to do, and as long as I save everyone else – my life matters little. The needs of the many and all that.
So I have to write a composition about a future that is uncertain, about a life I may not live. So many intentions in the world: Good, Bad, Seductive, Loving, Betrayal…Survival. I cannot make anyone understand and perhaps this is seen as whining. So be it. I lived where others died…this does not make me special, this does not set me apart. This means I had a person willing to die for me.
Empty words, who will listen? I lived. I survived. I have learned the future is not set, nothing is concrete, always in motion and liquid. I'm no longer living a life for the masses; no I'm not living for you. As of this moment…I'm living for me. My intentions – to survive.
Here endeth my essay.
It seemed that everyone in the school read that essay at least twice. The reaction swept through the school like a windstorm. Hermione was shocked that Harry never spoke to her about all his feelings, Ron upset that he didn't trust them. All the Gryffindors spoke in hushed whispers that Harry was being selfish by saying such things, that he could've spoken to them. They would have understood and where is all his anger coming from anyway? The Hufflepuffs were horrified, the Ravenclaws analytical, the Slytherins seeing how it could be used to their advantage. Whispers echoed through the school.
"Where does he get off?"
"How dare he say that?"
"How rude!"
"What did we miss? He's one of us, let's review this line by line and see where we went wrong."
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
Harry seems to be a little bit better since he vented in that essay – but not much. The Gryffindors are now trying to understand. The teachers are trying to understand. I understand. I know what abuse is like, I know the pain of a life that is not your own. Bugger it all, I know I am meant to be a Death Eater, it's expected of me. I'm in the Voldemort Youth; I am a Malfoy – the highest breed of wizard. If I die in service to our Lord, then so be it, at least I served my purpose – that's what people will say. I will live where I'm told; do what I'm told, and marry who I'm told and then raise a fresh generation of Slytherin Death Eaters. I live someone else's dream, follow someone else's ambitions. My life is not my own – just like Harry's isn't his.
I admire Harry's – when DID I stop thinking of him as Potter? – stones in letting the world know where they can stick their pre-conceived notions. Were that I was as strong, were that I could stand up to my father.
I see Potter sitting outside, staring at the lake as is his custom now. Perhaps I should tell him he's not alone…he knows I understand and he warned me about playing with lions. Perhaps I should see if I can get this lion to roar.
* * * *
Harry glanced up suspiciously when Malfoy sat quietly next to him. "Why are you here Malfoy?"
"Last time I checked this was a free country." Malfoy replied coolly.
"You think so." Potter replied, looking away from him, ignoring how his heart had sped up.
"You certainly don't seem to." Malfoy turned to Harry. "That was one hell of an essay Potter."
"Yeah?" Potter arched an eyebrow.
"You said 'Sod Off' to all those little pissants out there. You found the courage to do what I can't."
"What are you talking about?" Harry scowled.
Malfoy moved closer to Harry, taking his face between two cool hands, his silver eyes blazing into the endless green. "I understand." He whispered, leaning forward to speak into Harry's ear. "Everything."
Harry pulled back to look at Draco, breathing rapidly, convinced he'd fallen asleep. He was aware of Malfoy so close to him, he scent and his arousal. Harry stifled a weak moan at the nearness of him. He had only recently realized just how much Malfoy meant to him, how he had crossed the line. He had searched all his life for someone to understand him and now here, it seemed, there was one.
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
He understands? Blimey I think he's sincere. He smells like the night – I'm drowning in his eyes. How can he know? How can he understand? How can I go from hate to love so quickly? Why am I leaning towards him? I have to say something! I have…screw it.
* * * *
There were no words spoken as Harry's hand moved up to caress Draco's cheek as his fingertips moved slowly over silken lips. Draco's eyes drifted shut as Harry's hand ghosted over his eyelids, a blind man memorizing every detail. Draco's hunger grew, his yearning for the one who understood him, the one who said everything he couldn't. The gentle pressing of Harry's lips to Draco's was feather light and tentative. Draco reached out and pulled Harry closer, wrapping his arms around his enemy who inexplicably completed him. The kiss was gentle, it was chaste. Draco pulled away briefly and stared at Harry who blushed and shrugged. "You shouldn't kiss me like this unless you mean it like that." Draco said in a hoarse voice. "If you do then kiss me again."
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
He's kissing me. Willingly. He bloody well INSTIGATED it! Bollocks I can't believe this! I can die now because I have done the thing I wanted most to do. I will turn my back on everything I know for him. Bloody hell – I think I …no, that is weakness. Malfoy's don't feel that emotion, we are not built that way as I said earlier. Enemy. Enemy. Enemy. Kindred. Understands. Admire his strength. Enemy. Pull away. Be disgusted. Enemy…to hell with it.
* * * *
Draco was surprised when Harry leaned forward, kissing him again. He opened his mouth under Harry's as his hands clenched and tangled in his black mass of hair. He tilted Harry's mouth to the side and prided it open with his tongue. He fed his understanding to Harry and in return got his pain and loneliness, something Draco knew all too well. He knew he should pull back and take it slow, but he tasted his rival, felt his heartbeat and knew that rivalry was seriously underrated. He could not more pull back than he could stop breathing.
He moved down to Harry's throat, tasting that pale flesh. Harry smelled like the deepest midnight and Draco wanted nothing more than to impress his mark all over Harry. He wanted to howl to the sky, this was his mate.
Harry wanted to stop time so that this would never end. As Draco's hands slipped under his shirt, Harry's hands caressed his back. As Draco asked with his eyes and Harry nodded almost imperceptibly, he pulled the shirt off Harry and lowered his lips to his chest. Harry threw his head back and let out a cry to the trees, to the lake. Unwilling to let Draco torment him, Harry pushed him back, his lips latching onto Draco's as he lowered him to his back and plundered the blonde's mouth. He nearly ripped the shirt off Draco and admired the treasure he had uncovered. He traced the pale scar ridges with a gentle finger, following with his tongue.
Things were spiralling out of control rapidly. This was a burning attraction, a fiery desire bursting forward after years of oppression and denial. Harry undid the top snap of Draco's pants, unzipping them and slipping his hands inside. "No fair." Draco said in a hoarse whisper.
They tussled and rolled over and over, each trying to get closer, trying to absorb the hurt the other one felt. Draco was convinced he'd seen heaven when Harry took him in his mouth. The skill Harry demonstrated as he sucked, licked and nipped with his teeth was astounding. Draco tried to push him away, not wanting to embarrass himself and come in his mouth. But Harry's manacle-like grip on his buttocks convinced him otherwise. He could hold no longer and came…pulsed into Harry's mouth. He felt like he had given birth to an ocean. He collapse, sweaty under his lion who kissed him deeply. "I don't know when it happened." Harry whispered to Draco.
* * * *
HARRY'S POV
I can't believe what I have done with my worst enemy and yet I feel as though something ahs healed inside me. When did this happen? Why wasn't I aware of it? Why don't I mind?
* * * *
Draco laid Harry back to take care of his problem, feeling himself stirring gain. Harry had brought him to heights no other lover had. He tasted Harry; he wanted his pride of ions to see just how much Draco needed him. Muttering a spell, he slid two fingers inside Harry whose eyes rolled to the back of his head as he thrust against the plundering fingers. Draco was more than ready as he slid into Harry who whispered his name frantically. Draco was near the brink, Harry was near the brink. Harder. Faster. Where did one end and the other begin? The sound of flesh. The feel of the other. Clasping hands together and staring deeply into each other's eyes, they exploded together, cries intermingling with sweat and semen. Draco collapsed against Harry who pulled him close.
* * * *
DRACO'S POV
I did it? I DID it! I shagged my worst enemy – my greatest…love. There. I've said it to myself, now, I have to say it to him.
* * * *
"I love you." Draco whispered in a voice husky with weariness and sex. "I don't know when I realized it or how it happened, but here it is."
Harry turned to Draco and kissed him chastely on the forehead. "What are your intentions towards me? You never did answer me before." He asked, almost shy after all they had shared – in plain sight! This answer would have everything hinge on it. Hopes. Dreams. Desire. To tell friends or not. To renounce beliefs or not. To reveal the best kept secret, hidden even from themselves. Much lay ahead of them and it all bordered on this answer.
"What?" Draco blinked, shifting slightly.
"You love me. You understand me. What are your intentions?"
Draco paused. "Intentions?" he let out a half smile. "Good."