To Dream of Reality
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm still borrowing them. And it's still slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Now on to the fic. Enjoy.
He's being stalked this time.
It's a change of pace, being the hunted instead of the hunter. He's glad there is no melancholy loneliness this time, but the fear that makes his heart pound against his ribs in a staccato rhythm is no better. The tang of desperation coats the back of his throat, and Draco dashes through the Forest as quickly as he can. His breath is coming so fast the misty plumes it causes are almost constant in the frigid night air.
Draco ducks under a low branch and scrambles over a fallen tree, searching for a path that isn't there. He needs to find his way, but there's no time. The inky beast behind him cackles so that the hair on the nape of his neck rises, but in the next moment it's gone again. Thankful of the momentary respite, Draco crashes through the underbrush, hesitating when he sees a footstep on the bank of a nearby stream. It's filling up with water and it glistens under the waning moon. He doesn't know who it could possibly belong to, but it's a sign of human life nevertheless.
He follows the footsteps, winding his way through the wood without a second thought. Now he's both predator and prey. This is new, he thinks to himself, but he can't quite recall how. He's getting flashes of the figure in front of him as well as glimpses of the shadowy dark demon behind him. He ignores the beast and follows the other, watching carefully for each detail revealed. A flash of light refracting off something, a hint of a lean body before the other ducks out of sight, and a flicker of green which rivets Draco's attention. Color he thinks, awed. But there's no color here.
He follows close on their heels, winding through thickets and meadows alike and heeding every beckoning gesture made. The demon behind him falls further and further behind with every step until it's just the two of them; Draco and his mysterious hidden one.
They end up near the lake, though Draco has never before made it out of the Forbidden Forest. Not that he minds and he looks around with smile on his face at the open sky and glittering gray water. The other is a boy, like him, with tousled black hair and somber green eyes that are dazzling in comparison to the shades of black and white around them.
Draco steps forward and the other boy stills with a tiny smile, letting him approach at his own pace. He should know this boy, but the memory is a distant one he can't quite recall because all that matters is now. The hidden one, not so hidden now he thinks smugly, has lead him out of the forest and rescued him from evil. Draco trusts him, because Draco knows him. He's followed this boy all his life, though he's never been able to catch him.
He steps closer until his body is pressed against the other's lean frame and he is startled at the warmth emanating from him. A slim, pale hand rests on the other boy's cheek and Draco leans in, parting his lips to lick at the other boy's mouth because he's finally caught him and a winner needs a prize, doesn't he? Slick, soft, and warm, the other mouth parts and Draco tangles his tongue with the other's, content to battle it out in the confines of their mouths. The boy holds Draco's hips firmly and the Slytherin presses forward eagerly, rocking his hips against the other boy's and their bodies mesh so sweetly they might as well have been made with the other in mind.
A gentle moan vibrates in his chest and the other boy is making tiny needy sounds that are sending sparks of pleasure straight to Draco's crotch. This feels so good, he thinks. So, so good and just like that oh Harry-
"Harry, mmm." He mumbles against the other boys lips and blinks, startled to see that he is indeed tangled in the other boy's arms. He steps back, though only a bit because Potter still has his arms around him, and stares in shock at the swollen lips of his rival and the way the other boy's eyes are dilated with arousal. "Potter?"
"Oh, uh. Malfoy. I can explain! I was on my way to the kitchens and then you were just walking up to me and-"
Draco shuts him up with another kiss, making sure to grind himself against Potter's hardness while ravishing the Gryffindors mouth. Because after all they can do more interesting things with their mouths than bicker and fling nasty insults. Potter seems to agree, letting Draco pin him against the wall as they writhe together unashamedly. Their kisses grow more intense and frantic, tongues twining with desperation as their hips work against each other in a frenzy. The wet sounds of their kisses and moans is an erotic soundtrack that pushes them that much closer to the edge. Draco tugs at their pajama bottoms, sighing against Harry's mouth when their cocks are finally aligned, heads wet and messy, nudging and thrusting alongside each other so perfectly his toes curl.
Harry breaks off their kiss in favor of sucking at the curve of Draco's neck and his earlobe, leaving red marks on the pale ivory of his skin. It's perfection, absolutely wonderful, and Draco's cursing himself for taking so long to figure it out because they could have been doing this all along. Harry finally gasps, and bites down on the tiny dip of the other boy's collar bone, wet warmth soaking Draco as he comes. Draco mewls, though he will never admit it, and arches against Harry. The world falls away for several moments of eternity as the pleasure sizzles along his spine. He drifts slowly back into reality, clinging to Harry limply as they lean against the wall and its so comfortable he never wants to move again. Draco nuzzles the Gryffindor's neck without a second thought and is gratified when Potter Harry now tightens his arms around him. He presses his smiling lips against Harry's neck, closing his eyes at how perfectly right it feels.
And Draco knows that from now on he'll be dreaming in color.