Warning: I have rated this story a PG-13 because of a Harry/Draco slash
pairing. So please avoid this fic if you do not like the idea of a same sex
romantic pairing.
Disclaimer: Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just a humble dog not even worthy of dusting her shoes.
Thanks to Connie and Slytherlynx for beta-reading this chapter.
The Untold Want
Chapter 8: Give up, Give in
Harry was on the verge of falling asleep, eyelids lead-heavy and drifting shut against his will. Under normal circumstances Transfiguration wasn't that boring, but today Professor McGonagall had decided to embark on an endless lecture on the dangers of turning a living being into a lifeless object and vice-versa. The imbalance of nature, the ethical question blahblahblah...
Harry toyed with the idea of transfiguring Dudley into a piggy bank for a minute but even that possibility wasn't entertaining enough to keep him awake. The swirl of the dust specks on the rays of bright sunshine, filtered through the stained-glass windows, was beginning to hypnotize him.
He diverted his attention to the study of his classmates. Ron by his side had lost the battle with boredom, his head was tilted backwards, mouth hanging half-open. Harry made a mental note to elbow him before he began snoring.
Parvati was showing Lavender something under the desk, a Divination book probably, or Rita Skeeter's latest gossip column from the Witch Weekly. Dean was examining his fingernails in fascination, while Seamus was trying to make his quill stand on the desk without a balance spell. He failed. Again. And again. And again.
Since the Gryffindors presented no interest, Harry glanced towards the Slytherin side of the classroom. Pansy Parkinson had just received a note from Blaise that made her chuckle and give him a sheepish look. Harry shuddered. He really didn't want to know.
Crabbe and Goyle were snoring the lesson away, while Draco Malfoy was staring at him...
What?
Harry blinked a couple of times in utter disbelief, but the image didn't change. A few weeks had passed since the Hogsmeade incident and Harry was getting used to the idea that Malfoy was... well, interested in him. But he had never stared at Harry in such a blatantly obvious way. He was ignoring Professor McGonagall and her lecture completely, his chair was half-turned towards Harry's direction. He was furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, his gaze fluttered over Harry's face and finally came to rest on his scar. Then he bent over his desk, scribbling something on his parchment.
Harry gulped, feeling the hair at the back of his neck rising up. Was Malfoy writing a letter to him again? No, he wouldn't, not here, in front of all these people. He bit his lip trying to concentrate on the rhythm of McGonagall's dry voice, to glue his eyes on the golden rim of her glasses. But he could still sense Malfoy's gaze on his face and it was very unnerving. If the Professor saw him, Malfoy would get into serious trouble. Look away, you fool.
'What is the matter with all of you today?' McGonagall's voice thundered in his ears, making him gasp with surprise. 'Huh?' Ron mumbled, shaking his head and wiping the corners of his mouth.
The dazed classroom stirred nervously but nobody dared to speak. 'Perhaps it's the weather. It's quite warm for November. Finnigan, would you mind opening the window? Some fresh air might help.'
Seamus leapt up from his chair eagerly and after a short struggle he forced the window open. A gust of cold wind rushed in and there was some mild cursing as everyone's parchment began fluttering around the room like huge paper butterflies. Harry's hair flew wildly around his face, his glasses slipped from the tip of his nose and fell on the floor.
He dropped to his knees and crawled between the desks, searching blindly for them. Luckily he managed to find his glasses before someone stepped on them. He put them back on and then his fingertips touched a piece of paper that was lying on the floor. He picked it up mechanically.
It was him. Or rather a portrait of himself, elegantly drawn in ink and rather flattering. It wasn't complete, a part of the scar was missing. He heard Professor McGonagall muttering a spell, followed by a loud crash as the window shut obediently. Then:
'Mr Malfoy what's the meaning of this? Get back to your seat now!'
Harry stood up, dusting his robes and immediately came face to face with Draco Malfoy. If Malfoy's face ever had any color, now it was all completely drained, he was so pale his skin seemed transparent, as if painted directly onto the skull. His lips were pressed into a tight, bitter line, the eyes were sunk deep inside the sockets. Was he trembling? Malfoy snatched the parchment from Harry's hand, ripping it in two.
'Mr Malfoy' McGonagall repeated. 'What exactly do you think you're doing there? Bring this parchment here.'
Draco didn't turn to look at her. He glanced at Harry, then his gaze wandered around the room, as if not comprehending what was going on. For a moment Harry thought he could hear Draco's heartbeats inside his own chest, he could taste Draco's fear in his mouth.
Professor McGonagall raised her wand and shouted 'Acci-' but before the spell was completed Draco wadded up the parchment, crammed it into his mouth and swallowed, wincing with pain as it almost choked him. Harry sucked in his breath, sharp and scared of what was about to follow.
'Both of you! Back to your seats!' McGonagall shouted, the tone of her voice rising dangerously.
They obeyed numbly. She regained her composure and razor-sharp she added: 'I hope you understand the consequences of your behavior Mr Malfoy. Twenty points from Slytherin for disobeying your Professor. And detention after class. You will mop the floor of the classroom. Without magic of course.'
A tide of whispers rose in the classroom, disappointment from the Slytherins, delight from the Gryffindors. But above all muted surprise.
'Malfoy pushed it too far this time' Ron commented, more bewildered than satisfied as they exited the classroom, stuffing their books into their bags. 'What's going on in that crazy mind of his?'
'He should have known that McGonagall isn't Snape' Seamus agreed. Hermione glanced at Harry carefully while the others spoke, her eyes two narrow slits. 'What was written on that parchment Harry?' she asked finally.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. The portrait. Strange, how it looked more like him than himself. The toothy smile. The fuzzy black cloud of the hair. The tired eyes behind coke-bottle glasses. Malfoy's elaborate signature at the bottom of the page. And Malfoy's hunched shoulders and trembling hands, while McGonagall roared and the whole classroom laughed. So alone.
Some hand reached inside of him deep, deeper till it found his heart and twisted it in a vicious iron grip and Harry realized he couldn't stand it any more. He couldn't stand Ron's confused face and Hermione's silent scrutiny. Couldn't stand the way they both leaned into each other, instinctively, hands almost touching. The way Seamus absentmindedly pulled a hair from Dean's robes as they spoke. The way that Crabbe and Goyle laughed as they walked out of the classroom, mimicking each other's gestures. The way Pansy and Blaise were blushing as they walked side by side on the crowded corridor, hipbones glued together.
And him? What about him? A tiny flash of envy lit and burned itself out inside him within a second. Then he remembered the strange way he had felt when someone shoved him against a wall at Hogsmeade, pushing a wand under his jaw and pressing cold lips on his own. The envy dissolved into a black hole of panic. No, he couldn't stand any of this, no more, not for another second.
So he turned on his heels and fled while surprised voices echoed behind him but he didn't care. He ran stumbling and tripping on his shoelace and falling and standing up again, his heavy schoolbag drumming rhythmically against his back. It ripped open, the books fell on the floor, and the corridor was flooded with papers, the History of Magic essay he had worked so hard for. But he didn't care, didn't stop, but stepped on them while he ran as if his life depended on it.
Through long corridors, dusty halls and endless stairs, his robes rising around him like wings, his mouth open in a silent scream. More stairs, more corridors and the entrance door and he was outside. Ran to the lake, ran around the lake, one, two, three times. Until he couldn't breathe any more, ribs throbbing with hot pain, his heart pounding as if it wanted to break out from his chest.
He fell down on the ground, staining his knees and elbows with mud, then he collapsed completely, burying his face in the damp soil. What the hell was going on? He calmed down as minutes crawled by in silence and the world fell slowly back into place. He became aware of the dirt on his robes, of the little lizards slithering along the grass around him, of the quiet rippling of the lake and the light breeze rustling through his hair. The maze of incoherent thoughts vanished from his mind, leaving one option.
As if pulled by a summoning charm he stood up and calmly made his way back to Hogwarts, through the same corridors and stairs. He walked past the door leading to the Great Hall, from where the tantalizing smells of dinner were coming, past Blaise and Pansy who were clumsily attempting to snog in a corner, hands and legs in all the wrong places, until he reached the Transfiguration classroom.
Only when he put his hand on the handle and the door opened with a creak did he realize where he was and what he been doing. Draco Malfoy was on his hands and knees, clutching a wet rag, a bucket full of muddy water by his side. His arms were covered in soap up to the elbows, half of the floor was already mopped clumsily, long streaks of soap shone against the marble. Draco looked up, brushing the feathery white-blond hair away from his face.
And froze.
'Malfoy...' Harry began nervously. 'You need any help?'
Draco stood up, with as much grace and dignity as the situation allowed. He didn't speak, only raised his eyebrows while trying to wipe the soap off his hands.
'Hehmm' Harry mumbled.
'What are you doing here Potter?' Malfoy asked acidly. 'Coming to gloat? Coming to have a good laugh on my expense?'
'Hey!' Harry snapped, anger surpassing his uneasiness. 'You were the one drawing me during the lesson. You brought this upon yourself. I had nothing to do with it.'
'Exactly. And I'm the one who was given detention, if you have not noticed Potter. Not you. So I suggest you leave immediately.'
'No.'
'No?'
'No. Don't imagine that I'm going to obey you just like your goons. I never did it before, and will not do it now. And if I remember clearly you asked me to do the same thing at Hogsmeade, but you were the one running away with his tail between his legs in the end.'
'What the hell do you want Potter?' Draco spat.
Harry stopped. Exhaustion overcame him as he realized that they were back in the same terrain, in their customary exchange of petty insults and that all his little hopes were nothing but an invention of the mind. 'I don't know' he said honestly, after a moment of hesitation. His answer infuriated Draco even more. Harry saw the rag flying towards him and ducked quickly with the practiced reflexes of a seeker, but it still grazed the top of his head and muddy soap spluttered in his left eye.
Harry pressed his hands on his face, the burning was so intense he thought he was about to go blind. 'Damn, damn, damn!' he cried out, rubbing his sore eyes, until brilliant patterns rose swirling from the darkness behind his eyelids and floods of tears ran down his face. 'Damn you!' He stumbled forward, hands reaching out blindly and overturned the water bucket, destroying Malfoy's half-hearted attempts at mopping.
'Ssshh...' Draco whispered from somewhere very close to Harry's ear. He almost jumped out of his skin when two hands came to rest on his shoulders, steadying him.
'Sssh... Let me see now' Harry opened his eyes wincing and stared back at Draco, his pale face nothing but a vague white shape behind the blurry curtain of tears.
'It isn't that bad. Don't be a cry-baby Potter'
'What? I don't believe this! You-'
Draco blew softly on his eye, his mouth forming a little o, his fingertips running gently over the sensitive skin under Harry's eyelid. The cool air soon eased the burning away.
'Better?'
Harry blinked a couple of times, then nodded. Draco blew again, on his tear- streaked cheeks till the moisture dried away, then back around his eyes, coming closer and closer. His tongue flickered out, licking the edge of his brow and Harry made a small sound at the back of his throat.
He tried to remain calm but he felt his muscles pulled painfully tight, tense to the point of trembling. Draco said something but Harry didn't hear the words, he *felt* them, as the cold lips moved, forming each sound clearly against his skin. 'Can I?'
Harry didn't say yes. He didn't say no either. He could do nothing but stare as if hypnotized, beyond Draco's shoulder, at the overturned water bucket and the pool of muddy water on the floor. That same water was dripping in his head now, washing all his thoughts away.
The lips moved very slowly, from his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose, trailing over his cheekbone and pausing at the corner of his mouth. First Draco just breathed into Harry's parted lips and Harry did the same until their breathing quickened, almost became a moan. Harry felt warm, flushed with tingling heat and when Draco finally kissed him his knees weakened, giving way.
Draco sighed, sucking Harry's upper lip and Harry leaned back against the wall, searching for something firm, something stable to hold onto. He stood on tiptoe, arms splayed out wide, fingernails scratching helplessly on the hard stone. He let Draco nudge his mouth open, a little at first, then wide.
But then Draco's tongue was in his mouth, fierce and angry, almost choking him, Draco's hands left his shoulders and twined around his back, digging deep into the flesh. Then they moved lower, fumbling with his robes, searching frantically for bare skin, unfastening the buckle of his jeans. Draco's boot came between his legs, kicking them apart, Draco's body was hard against his own, pressing him on the cold wall of the classroom and he could feel... This was wrong, all wrong.
No. His hands came up on Draco's chest trying to jerk away. Draco wouldn't move so he shoved him hard with all his strength and sent him reeling backwards. 'What's going on?' Draco asked breathing heavily, his blond hair a mess. 'What's going on? Don't you want this?'
Harry took a step towards the door. 'This is wrong' he managed to croak. His mouth had gone completely dry, the words were choking in the back of his throat.
'Wrong.' Malfoy repeated, seeming not to understand.
'I-I'm sorry' Harry stammered. 'W-we could be friends.' he added, uttering the last word in disbelief and feeling foolish for saying it.
'Friends' Draco said bitterly, hands dropping lifeless at his sides. 'Who says I want to be your friend?'
Harry took another step towards the door, tearing his gaze away from Draco. Then another. Then another. One more and he would be out of there.
'Who is running away now, Potter?' Malfoy hissed behind his back, the tone of his voice altering from hopeless to vicious in seconds.
'He's just trying to provoke me' Harry thought. 'I should ignore him. Ignore him.' He took another step.
'Who is running away now like a coward? And they say that the Gryffindors are the brave ones.'
'He wants to trick me into staying.' Harry repeated to himself, the words turning into some sort of feverish mantra. Then surprised: 'He wants me. He really wants me. He is trying everything he can.' He could walk away now. And where exactly would he go?
'Are you afraid of me Potter?'
That did it. Slowly, and fully aware that he was probably making the worst mistake of his life, Harry let his hand drop from the door handle and turned around.
To be continued
Disclaimer: Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just a humble dog not even worthy of dusting her shoes.
Thanks to Connie and Slytherlynx for beta-reading this chapter.
The Untold Want
Chapter 8: Give up, Give in
Harry was on the verge of falling asleep, eyelids lead-heavy and drifting shut against his will. Under normal circumstances Transfiguration wasn't that boring, but today Professor McGonagall had decided to embark on an endless lecture on the dangers of turning a living being into a lifeless object and vice-versa. The imbalance of nature, the ethical question blahblahblah...
Harry toyed with the idea of transfiguring Dudley into a piggy bank for a minute but even that possibility wasn't entertaining enough to keep him awake. The swirl of the dust specks on the rays of bright sunshine, filtered through the stained-glass windows, was beginning to hypnotize him.
He diverted his attention to the study of his classmates. Ron by his side had lost the battle with boredom, his head was tilted backwards, mouth hanging half-open. Harry made a mental note to elbow him before he began snoring.
Parvati was showing Lavender something under the desk, a Divination book probably, or Rita Skeeter's latest gossip column from the Witch Weekly. Dean was examining his fingernails in fascination, while Seamus was trying to make his quill stand on the desk without a balance spell. He failed. Again. And again. And again.
Since the Gryffindors presented no interest, Harry glanced towards the Slytherin side of the classroom. Pansy Parkinson had just received a note from Blaise that made her chuckle and give him a sheepish look. Harry shuddered. He really didn't want to know.
Crabbe and Goyle were snoring the lesson away, while Draco Malfoy was staring at him...
What?
Harry blinked a couple of times in utter disbelief, but the image didn't change. A few weeks had passed since the Hogsmeade incident and Harry was getting used to the idea that Malfoy was... well, interested in him. But he had never stared at Harry in such a blatantly obvious way. He was ignoring Professor McGonagall and her lecture completely, his chair was half-turned towards Harry's direction. He was furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, his gaze fluttered over Harry's face and finally came to rest on his scar. Then he bent over his desk, scribbling something on his parchment.
Harry gulped, feeling the hair at the back of his neck rising up. Was Malfoy writing a letter to him again? No, he wouldn't, not here, in front of all these people. He bit his lip trying to concentrate on the rhythm of McGonagall's dry voice, to glue his eyes on the golden rim of her glasses. But he could still sense Malfoy's gaze on his face and it was very unnerving. If the Professor saw him, Malfoy would get into serious trouble. Look away, you fool.
'What is the matter with all of you today?' McGonagall's voice thundered in his ears, making him gasp with surprise. 'Huh?' Ron mumbled, shaking his head and wiping the corners of his mouth.
The dazed classroom stirred nervously but nobody dared to speak. 'Perhaps it's the weather. It's quite warm for November. Finnigan, would you mind opening the window? Some fresh air might help.'
Seamus leapt up from his chair eagerly and after a short struggle he forced the window open. A gust of cold wind rushed in and there was some mild cursing as everyone's parchment began fluttering around the room like huge paper butterflies. Harry's hair flew wildly around his face, his glasses slipped from the tip of his nose and fell on the floor.
He dropped to his knees and crawled between the desks, searching blindly for them. Luckily he managed to find his glasses before someone stepped on them. He put them back on and then his fingertips touched a piece of paper that was lying on the floor. He picked it up mechanically.
It was him. Or rather a portrait of himself, elegantly drawn in ink and rather flattering. It wasn't complete, a part of the scar was missing. He heard Professor McGonagall muttering a spell, followed by a loud crash as the window shut obediently. Then:
'Mr Malfoy what's the meaning of this? Get back to your seat now!'
Harry stood up, dusting his robes and immediately came face to face with Draco Malfoy. If Malfoy's face ever had any color, now it was all completely drained, he was so pale his skin seemed transparent, as if painted directly onto the skull. His lips were pressed into a tight, bitter line, the eyes were sunk deep inside the sockets. Was he trembling? Malfoy snatched the parchment from Harry's hand, ripping it in two.
'Mr Malfoy' McGonagall repeated. 'What exactly do you think you're doing there? Bring this parchment here.'
Draco didn't turn to look at her. He glanced at Harry, then his gaze wandered around the room, as if not comprehending what was going on. For a moment Harry thought he could hear Draco's heartbeats inside his own chest, he could taste Draco's fear in his mouth.
Professor McGonagall raised her wand and shouted 'Acci-' but before the spell was completed Draco wadded up the parchment, crammed it into his mouth and swallowed, wincing with pain as it almost choked him. Harry sucked in his breath, sharp and scared of what was about to follow.
'Both of you! Back to your seats!' McGonagall shouted, the tone of her voice rising dangerously.
They obeyed numbly. She regained her composure and razor-sharp she added: 'I hope you understand the consequences of your behavior Mr Malfoy. Twenty points from Slytherin for disobeying your Professor. And detention after class. You will mop the floor of the classroom. Without magic of course.'
A tide of whispers rose in the classroom, disappointment from the Slytherins, delight from the Gryffindors. But above all muted surprise.
'Malfoy pushed it too far this time' Ron commented, more bewildered than satisfied as they exited the classroom, stuffing their books into their bags. 'What's going on in that crazy mind of his?'
'He should have known that McGonagall isn't Snape' Seamus agreed. Hermione glanced at Harry carefully while the others spoke, her eyes two narrow slits. 'What was written on that parchment Harry?' she asked finally.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. The portrait. Strange, how it looked more like him than himself. The toothy smile. The fuzzy black cloud of the hair. The tired eyes behind coke-bottle glasses. Malfoy's elaborate signature at the bottom of the page. And Malfoy's hunched shoulders and trembling hands, while McGonagall roared and the whole classroom laughed. So alone.
Some hand reached inside of him deep, deeper till it found his heart and twisted it in a vicious iron grip and Harry realized he couldn't stand it any more. He couldn't stand Ron's confused face and Hermione's silent scrutiny. Couldn't stand the way they both leaned into each other, instinctively, hands almost touching. The way Seamus absentmindedly pulled a hair from Dean's robes as they spoke. The way that Crabbe and Goyle laughed as they walked out of the classroom, mimicking each other's gestures. The way Pansy and Blaise were blushing as they walked side by side on the crowded corridor, hipbones glued together.
And him? What about him? A tiny flash of envy lit and burned itself out inside him within a second. Then he remembered the strange way he had felt when someone shoved him against a wall at Hogsmeade, pushing a wand under his jaw and pressing cold lips on his own. The envy dissolved into a black hole of panic. No, he couldn't stand any of this, no more, not for another second.
So he turned on his heels and fled while surprised voices echoed behind him but he didn't care. He ran stumbling and tripping on his shoelace and falling and standing up again, his heavy schoolbag drumming rhythmically against his back. It ripped open, the books fell on the floor, and the corridor was flooded with papers, the History of Magic essay he had worked so hard for. But he didn't care, didn't stop, but stepped on them while he ran as if his life depended on it.
Through long corridors, dusty halls and endless stairs, his robes rising around him like wings, his mouth open in a silent scream. More stairs, more corridors and the entrance door and he was outside. Ran to the lake, ran around the lake, one, two, three times. Until he couldn't breathe any more, ribs throbbing with hot pain, his heart pounding as if it wanted to break out from his chest.
He fell down on the ground, staining his knees and elbows with mud, then he collapsed completely, burying his face in the damp soil. What the hell was going on? He calmed down as minutes crawled by in silence and the world fell slowly back into place. He became aware of the dirt on his robes, of the little lizards slithering along the grass around him, of the quiet rippling of the lake and the light breeze rustling through his hair. The maze of incoherent thoughts vanished from his mind, leaving one option.
As if pulled by a summoning charm he stood up and calmly made his way back to Hogwarts, through the same corridors and stairs. He walked past the door leading to the Great Hall, from where the tantalizing smells of dinner were coming, past Blaise and Pansy who were clumsily attempting to snog in a corner, hands and legs in all the wrong places, until he reached the Transfiguration classroom.
Only when he put his hand on the handle and the door opened with a creak did he realize where he was and what he been doing. Draco Malfoy was on his hands and knees, clutching a wet rag, a bucket full of muddy water by his side. His arms were covered in soap up to the elbows, half of the floor was already mopped clumsily, long streaks of soap shone against the marble. Draco looked up, brushing the feathery white-blond hair away from his face.
And froze.
'Malfoy...' Harry began nervously. 'You need any help?'
Draco stood up, with as much grace and dignity as the situation allowed. He didn't speak, only raised his eyebrows while trying to wipe the soap off his hands.
'Hehmm' Harry mumbled.
'What are you doing here Potter?' Malfoy asked acidly. 'Coming to gloat? Coming to have a good laugh on my expense?'
'Hey!' Harry snapped, anger surpassing his uneasiness. 'You were the one drawing me during the lesson. You brought this upon yourself. I had nothing to do with it.'
'Exactly. And I'm the one who was given detention, if you have not noticed Potter. Not you. So I suggest you leave immediately.'
'No.'
'No?'
'No. Don't imagine that I'm going to obey you just like your goons. I never did it before, and will not do it now. And if I remember clearly you asked me to do the same thing at Hogsmeade, but you were the one running away with his tail between his legs in the end.'
'What the hell do you want Potter?' Draco spat.
Harry stopped. Exhaustion overcame him as he realized that they were back in the same terrain, in their customary exchange of petty insults and that all his little hopes were nothing but an invention of the mind. 'I don't know' he said honestly, after a moment of hesitation. His answer infuriated Draco even more. Harry saw the rag flying towards him and ducked quickly with the practiced reflexes of a seeker, but it still grazed the top of his head and muddy soap spluttered in his left eye.
Harry pressed his hands on his face, the burning was so intense he thought he was about to go blind. 'Damn, damn, damn!' he cried out, rubbing his sore eyes, until brilliant patterns rose swirling from the darkness behind his eyelids and floods of tears ran down his face. 'Damn you!' He stumbled forward, hands reaching out blindly and overturned the water bucket, destroying Malfoy's half-hearted attempts at mopping.
'Ssshh...' Draco whispered from somewhere very close to Harry's ear. He almost jumped out of his skin when two hands came to rest on his shoulders, steadying him.
'Sssh... Let me see now' Harry opened his eyes wincing and stared back at Draco, his pale face nothing but a vague white shape behind the blurry curtain of tears.
'It isn't that bad. Don't be a cry-baby Potter'
'What? I don't believe this! You-'
Draco blew softly on his eye, his mouth forming a little o, his fingertips running gently over the sensitive skin under Harry's eyelid. The cool air soon eased the burning away.
'Better?'
Harry blinked a couple of times, then nodded. Draco blew again, on his tear- streaked cheeks till the moisture dried away, then back around his eyes, coming closer and closer. His tongue flickered out, licking the edge of his brow and Harry made a small sound at the back of his throat.
He tried to remain calm but he felt his muscles pulled painfully tight, tense to the point of trembling. Draco said something but Harry didn't hear the words, he *felt* them, as the cold lips moved, forming each sound clearly against his skin. 'Can I?'
Harry didn't say yes. He didn't say no either. He could do nothing but stare as if hypnotized, beyond Draco's shoulder, at the overturned water bucket and the pool of muddy water on the floor. That same water was dripping in his head now, washing all his thoughts away.
The lips moved very slowly, from his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose, trailing over his cheekbone and pausing at the corner of his mouth. First Draco just breathed into Harry's parted lips and Harry did the same until their breathing quickened, almost became a moan. Harry felt warm, flushed with tingling heat and when Draco finally kissed him his knees weakened, giving way.
Draco sighed, sucking Harry's upper lip and Harry leaned back against the wall, searching for something firm, something stable to hold onto. He stood on tiptoe, arms splayed out wide, fingernails scratching helplessly on the hard stone. He let Draco nudge his mouth open, a little at first, then wide.
But then Draco's tongue was in his mouth, fierce and angry, almost choking him, Draco's hands left his shoulders and twined around his back, digging deep into the flesh. Then they moved lower, fumbling with his robes, searching frantically for bare skin, unfastening the buckle of his jeans. Draco's boot came between his legs, kicking them apart, Draco's body was hard against his own, pressing him on the cold wall of the classroom and he could feel... This was wrong, all wrong.
No. His hands came up on Draco's chest trying to jerk away. Draco wouldn't move so he shoved him hard with all his strength and sent him reeling backwards. 'What's going on?' Draco asked breathing heavily, his blond hair a mess. 'What's going on? Don't you want this?'
Harry took a step towards the door. 'This is wrong' he managed to croak. His mouth had gone completely dry, the words were choking in the back of his throat.
'Wrong.' Malfoy repeated, seeming not to understand.
'I-I'm sorry' Harry stammered. 'W-we could be friends.' he added, uttering the last word in disbelief and feeling foolish for saying it.
'Friends' Draco said bitterly, hands dropping lifeless at his sides. 'Who says I want to be your friend?'
Harry took another step towards the door, tearing his gaze away from Draco. Then another. Then another. One more and he would be out of there.
'Who is running away now, Potter?' Malfoy hissed behind his back, the tone of his voice altering from hopeless to vicious in seconds.
'He's just trying to provoke me' Harry thought. 'I should ignore him. Ignore him.' He took another step.
'Who is running away now like a coward? And they say that the Gryffindors are the brave ones.'
'He wants to trick me into staying.' Harry repeated to himself, the words turning into some sort of feverish mantra. Then surprised: 'He wants me. He really wants me. He is trying everything he can.' He could walk away now. And where exactly would he go?
'Are you afraid of me Potter?'
That did it. Slowly, and fully aware that he was probably making the worst mistake of his life, Harry let his hand drop from the door handle and turned around.
To be continued