Title: Of Flesh and Blood
Author: Patris Vox and Nicole7137
Rating: R (Because our Draco has a seriously foul mouth)
Pairings: Draco/Harry (wrestling mmm mmm does the body good)
Disclaimer: We are not JK Rowling, therefore, we do not own any of the characters…Though we wouldn't mind owning Draco ;D
Warning: Harry is stupid…Draco is haat…therefore! This is a Draco/Harry slash! If you don't like the idea of two guys going at each other, then why the hell did you click on this story anyway?
Thanks:
Betty – You rock, as always, you are the best beta we have ever come across! Thanks for sticking with us. Go you!
Sumire – You are now my new best question friend. I can just go on and ask you anything, whether it deals with word issues or imagery problems and you're all "BAM! This is how it's done."
Disportraited – I cannot for the life of me remember your actual name. It's a sad sad and tiring day. Anyways, I haven't been talking to you long but you've helped out a bunch and I can't wait to see what happens between Veyt and Andre ^-^
As for the other so called 'betas', it would help if you knew what BETA meant, it actually means you make corrections! AND! YOU HAVE THEM IN A DIFFERENT GOD DAMN COLOR! For all we care, you can go rot in hell…nine times!
*~*~*
Chapter Four: Seduction
So I guess I'd better
Find a new way in
I shiver when I
Hear your name
Think about you
But it's not the same
I won't be satisfied
Until I'm under your skin
Maroon 5
"Shiver"
The incessant howl of the wind woke Draco again from a fitful slumber. His head ached from a nightmare that never manifested itself, leaving an emptiness that chilled him to the bone. The thought would soon drift away, only to return the next time he woke up. Draco turned over to face the window. The glass covered the side of the room, allowing the boy to take in all the scenery at once. Due to the solitary window being level with his bed, Draco could wake to beauty at sunrise. This morning, however, the sky looked sinister. Clouds swept over the heavens, and the rain dropped to the ground, its beat devoured by the honest rhythm of nature. It appeared as a grey mist, floating down towards the lake and over the surrounding landscape.
A tentacle arched above the water and slipped back under the surface without so much as a ripple. The clouds pushed further still by wind until they came across the old, weather beaten castle standing its own against time. Tears streamed down, telling of their eternal, lonely journey to the ends of the earth, where they could finally settle down and watch the world go on without them. Draco looked on at the story unfolding outside his window, understanding its simple message: despair is a sombre soul.
Wrapping his arms around one of his pillows, Draco sighed. The day had barely begun and already he despised it. His room felt frozen, the one downfall of having such an enormous window. It seemed not even magic could defy the elements. Draco bundled up in his sheets to keep from going numb. Closing his eyes, he tried to dispel the cold from his skin. A memory replayed itself in his throbbing head continuously. Disentangling one arm from his pillow, he rubbed his temple. Draco pulled the few stray strands of hair that lay over his brow behind his ear; they fell back into place. He decided to let them be, going back to massaging his forehead softly.
The memory wrapped itself tightly over his eyes, skin, and mind. Yet, Draco could not comprehend why it seemed so important. He knew a potion was involved, but did not see any significance in that. Having successfully completed so many in and outside class, they were now irrelevant to him. His lips turned slightly down. He knew one skill alone would never amount to anything, least of all earn praise from his father. Even to get his own room was not a reward, but rather a mean to maintaining the family's dark legacy. Draco remembered the day before his sixth year at Hogwarts began.
A shiny prefect's badge was pinned onto Draco's robes. Aside from the fact that Lucius had always told him to ignore such petty, frivolous honours, Draco beamed. He now had legal power over the other students and he planned on making the most of it. Draco revelled in the fantasies of what his new duties implied before being rudely bumped into. Turning around, he found a younger boy, whom without a doubt was a first year. There was a hitch in the first year's breathing as he recognized Draco; his eyes widened in fright.
"Yo- you're-"
Draco looked down at the boy in contempt. Before he could castrate the boy for his criminal offence, a woman of middle age grabbed him and whisked him away from imminent danger.
"Bloody git." Draco mentally noted another reason why he deserved his separate room: too many damn prats.
Lucius decided that it was high time Draco started working with Dark and wandless magic outside the confines of the manor. He wrote a letter to Dumbledore basically stating that if his son, Draco, would not receive his own, separate room, that he would transfer the boy to Durmstrang. He also claimed that his son's poor performances in school were due in part to shared sleeping quarters; that Draco was suffering from sleep deprivation. To Draco's surprise, Dumbledore accepted the bold-faced lie, and supplied him with private quarters.
A masculine hand fell onto his shoulder interrupting Draco's thoughts. The boy looked around to find his father staring intently at him. Draco turned, waiting for any last instructions before he boarded the train.
"I've been to see this room of yours. You'll find I've made some…alterations to it. Charms to have your fellow students avoid your quarters. Your teachers will not find your books if you do as I've told, and your magic has been concealed from detection," Lucius gripped his son's shoulder harder, "Now, I will not hear of this room being squandered. Being a Malfoy means that you must make sacrifices. Do not fail. A Malfoy never fails."
Draco nodded, acknowledging the underlying threat. As he turned around and headed towards the train, his father had one last comment, "I will owl you if any interesting news arises." With that, Draco stepped onto the express, escaping his father's sight. He knew that his father was implying the Dark Lord; his chest felt heavy.
The train ride was long and boring as usual; Draco was stuck in a cab with Crabbe and Goyle. They stuffed their cheeks with as much food as they could buy. They also seemed to find it hilarious to see who could eat the most Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans without purging. Draco kept his eyes fixed on the passing countryside. He fell asleep for a few hours, only to be awoken by the enormous thud of Crabbe falling onto his arse while trying to shove each of his fat arms through the sleeves of his school robes.
After entering the Great Hall, he watched the Sorting Hat Ceremony with detachment. Draco smirked as the clumsy boy from the train station was sorted into Hufflepuff. After the final first year sat down at their table, the banquet commenced. Crabbe and Goyle's eyes lit up as the food appeared in front of them, as though they had never seen such a novelty before. Draco was unsure whether it was the sudden materialization of it or the food itself.
Draco looked over to see Goyle looking cautiously around the room, while shoving chicken into his pants' pocket. Draco gave him a bewildered look.
Goyle leaned closer and whispered, "For secret eating," and gave him a serious look.
Disgusted with his friends' ability to inhale food like nobody's business, Draco lost his appetite. He left the feast early, figuring his fellow Slytherin prefect, Aidyn Murray, would have no problem dealing with the first years himself.
As Draco walked through the corridors, he saw a girl walking in the opposite direction. Her long, brown hair bounced with each step she took; she attempted to prevent the smile that began to sweep over her lips as he passed. Draco simply stared ahead, keeping his mind focused on his next turn. His new quarters were in a completely different area than his old one was. It was located two levels above the Slytherin Common Room, three passages over. Draco figured that this room could not be any colder than the last, for which he was thankful. He stepped in front of a portrait of a dragon looking lazily up towards the painted sky. Its scales were tinged with dark, forest green and outlined in silver. The tail swung back and forth in boredom, each of the dozen razor sharp spikes lining it dragged across the ground. The dragon let out a puff of grey smoke, swirling and spiralling in a column towards the sky. Draco cleared his throat and the dragon continued to ignore him. "Malfoy pride," Draco knew that he had to change that poor excuse for a password quickly.
With its eyes fully open, Draco could see that they took on the stormy, iced grey hue, much like his own. The dragon took a rapid breath and exhaled. A green flame spread across the whole of the painting before opening. The boy changed the password to 'Draco Malfoy is a sexy bitch'. Content with himself, he walked in.
The door opened up to a small, relaxed room. As Draco stepped into the new quarters, he took everything in at once. A large granite fireplace roared in front of a few leather couches and chairs. It was old-fashioned, but nevertheless, the boy was impressed by its grandeur. The heat rolled out from the fire, leaving the room nice and warm. Across from the door, a large bookcase loomed over Draco; the case brushed the slightly vaulted ceiling. Browsing through the titles, Draco realized the majority among them were books he had at home. An oak table was placed next to the second door.
Draco opened it up to find his bedroom. A third and final door, undoubtedly leading to the private bathroom, was placed directly across the room. A lavishly designed desk was placed against the wall to his right. The closet door stood open, awaiting his countless number of clothes.
The most impressive sight in his room, however, was definitely the bed in the middle of the room. It could have easily fit four people with room to spare. Several of his pillows from home adorned the bedding. He smiled; the boy could plainly see his house elf had not forgotten to pack his favourite pillow of all, his body pillow. The sheets were made of silk, nothing less would have been acceptable. He faintly felt like he was back in the Slytherin dormitory, since everything was tinted with the lustrous, forest green that his House was so well known for. A sheer material was draped over the four posters that reached the ceiling. Draco walked up to his new bed and ran his hand across the covers.
He let himself fall backwards onto the bed, crumpling the sheets into millions of wrinkles. The pillows bounced in the air briefly before settling back down. His hands snaked over the sheets, grabbing a hold of his body pillow. Pulling it towards him, he wrapped his arms and legs around it. Draco's head rested on the top of the pillow; he lay in a curled, comfortable position, spooned up against his pillow like countless times before. The boy sighed, deciding that this year would not be so bad after all. The quiet was overwhelming, save for Draco's shallow breaths, as he drifted off to sleep.
And there he was, a month later, still on his bed, intertwined with his favourite pillow. His room warmed as the smouldering fire in his front room relit itself. All of his belongings were tucked away in their own spots; the room looked as barren and unlived in as it ever did. Draco sighed heavily; his mind still pulsated with pain. He knew the day was not going to be the best, but having a migraine sure did not help either. It was Saturday, which meant that the day of the Quidditch match against Gryffindor had finally arrived.
Against Potter…
Draco could not have cared less about the other players. He saw the match as a 'one on one Seeker ability face-off'. He hated that fact that somehow, every time, Potter managed a Machiavellian move, which always seemed to end with the Snitch in his bloody possession.
Resting his head sideways on the pillow, Draco gazed out his window once more. The weather had cleared up; light bathed the grounds. Yet, there was a new set of clouds that crept closer to the school. The Quidditch match would be a very muddy and miserable event for sure.
Draco balled his hands into tight fists. Flinching, he opened his left hand. A deep, red line trailed across his palm. He followed the path of the fresh wound in his mind, leading him to the previous night. The potion. The dagger. Potter. Draco shoved his face into his pillow, emitting a muffled cry of disgust.
*~*~*
Draco walked lazily into the Hall that morning for breakfast, taking his regular seat next to Goyle. Pansy and Blaise sat turned towards each other, talking in hushed tones. Pansy let out a forced laugh and teasingly slapped Blaise's chest. She ran her hand through her hair, twirling the ends. As soon as Pansy and Blaise saw Draco, their conversation ended abruptly.
"Heeeey Draco! Did you oversleep? I was worried about you!" Pansy turned away from Blaise, focusing on him.
"I thought if I waited long enough, you would already be gone."
"Oh!" Pansy giggled obnoxiously, "You are so silly, Draco!"
"Yeah." Draco rolled his eyes, preparing himself for another day.
Out of the corner of his eye, he gazed across the hall to the Gryffindor table. Harry sat surrounded by most of his house members. The expressions lit up as Harry said something then threw his hands up n the air. He stood up dramatically and yelled out, "And then I said 'This is most irregular'!" The audience erupted in cheers and laughter. A rush of glee overcame Draco; a smile spread across his face. Warmth swept across his body, as he unconsciously began to chuckle along with the Gryffindors.
"Malfoy!" Zabini yelled, "What the hell are you gawking at?"
"Oh, uhh…uhm…" Draco stuttered, for the first time unable to think of a witty retort.
"Draco, honey, stop that! You're scaring me!" Pansy ordered, giving him a troubled look.
"Stop what?"
"Stop smiling! It looks all wrong on you. You just don't have the kind of face to pull it off."
Draco glared at her as the rest of the group snickered.
"Anyways, as I was asking you before you went all parallel universe on us Malfoy, what are we going to do since Crabbe can't play today's game?" Blaise questioned. "We can't find another Beater as good as him on such short notice."
Goyle grunted, glaring at Blaise.
"Well, except for you, Goyle, but you're already playing."
Goyle looked confused for a moment, then nodded and went back to his food.
"I honestly don't care, Zabini. Why don't you figure it out yourself, since you're so damned clever." Draco noted this event as reason number two of why today sucked.
"That is not a very good attitude to have before a match, Malfoy. Why don't you think about your priorities before you come to the game today, huh?" Blaise advised in an arrogant tone. Under the table, his hand rested on Pansy's thigh.
"And why don't you just shut the fuck up. Your stupid team would fall apart without me, and you know it. You're only captain, because I turned it down. Remember that." Draco pushed his plate away, and got up. Without another look, he left the table and headed directly towards the corridor.
Concern washed over Harry as he watched Draco slip around the corner out of sight.
*~*~*
With a twist of his fingers, Harry's robes fell from his shoulders, billowing to the ground. Checking around the room, he found no one looking. Everyone else was too preoccupied to notice Harry in the corner. Dean and Ron were caught up in a deep conversation of the upcoming game and their tactical defences. Dean's arms were flailing around while Ron nodded his head in agreement. Harry swore he heard Dean say "Malfoy" and "Bludger" a few times. Every time he did, an evil grin washed over Ron's face.
Steam flooded the room from the showers. An Irish accent echoed throughout the locker room.
Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile!
While you've a lucifer to light your fag,
Smile boys, that's the style!
What's the use of worrying.
It never was worthwhile. So!
Pack up your trouble in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile…
Seamus emerged from the steam cloud wet, clean, and…naked. He walked past the other boys who were far too used to Seamus' overt displays of nudity, especially his dorm mates. Harry, however, felt he could never get used to seeing Seamus'…package in all its' majesty. Seamus strutted proudly along, winking and making gestures at some of the Slytherins who were gawking, until he sauntered right over to Harry's corner.
"Ready for the game, Harry?" Seamus scratched his groin carelessly.
Harry diverted his eye contact quickly, looking up at a particularly interesting part of the ceiling.
"Uh. Yep. I sure am. I just need some…quiet Seeker time right now."
"Ohhh! I gotcha there, Harry!" Seamus put his arm around Harry's neck, pulled him into his chest, and tousled his hair. Harry squeezed his eyelids shut as much as he could, trying to think of everything except the full on penis view in front of him. Seamus laughed enthusiastically.
Just at the right moment, being fashionably late as usual, Draco walked in. He walked by calmly; ignoring the fact that Harry's face was pressed down near Seamus' crotch as both teams stood staring.
"Finnigan put your clothes back on. No one wants to see that." Draco instructed.
"Oh, you know you want me, Draco!"
"Hardly…"
Ron and Dean grabbed their Quidditch robes hastily, and were attempting to make a break for it while Seamus' attention was fixed on Draco.
"Hey! Where do you think you two are going?!" Seamus was far more perceptive than he let on to be.
Ron and Dean staggered before dashing out of the locker room. Seamus blew a kiss at Draco, grabbed his Quidditch attire, and ran out of the room after them, clasping his robe along the way.
Draco shrugged off Seamus' naked image, trying to keep focused. He only had a few minutes to get ready before the match. Being fashionably late had its drawbacks. His hand glided into his pocket, searching for his wand. Muttering "Alohomora" under his breath, the locker opened. His slender fingers opened the door until it hit rather noisily against another locker. The mirror on it shook but kept its position on the door. Draco eyed his reflection, making sure his hair flattened smoothly against each curve. Pleased with his appearance, he leaned back onto one leg and rested his head onto one of his palms. The boy's eyes brightened and his hand reached in his locker, pulling out one of his Quidditch robes. He scoured the robe's appearance, holding it up. Shaking his head, he hung it back in his locker. Draco thumbed through the robes until he pulled out another identical green one. Satisfied with his choice, he unclasped his robe, hanging it in the other's place. The used school robe seemed out of place in the midst of the six Quidditch uniforms that were cleaned and pressed, hanging neatly in the boy's locker.
Draco stood in a tight black cotton shirt that clung to his skin and dark, grey trousers that just hinted at his toned thighs. His silver buckle glinted in the light. The boy took a step back to appraise his appearance. Draco looked down at his arms, flexing them, and wondered if he would be able to control his new broomstick this year. His old Nimbus Two Thousand and One was severely outclassed by his Serpent Ten. Even the Firebolt was out leagued by the style, grace, and speed of Draco's new broom. The handle was carved into a snake with scales etched into the rowan handle for easier grip. The wood expanded as it reached the tightly bound twigs at the base. Two silver footholds were just noticeable. Serpent Ten was written across the length of the broom in silver, flowing writing. He smiled briefly; his worry of losing the match slowly drifted away. With a last fleeting glance at the mirror, he noted that his black shirt defined his slim features quite nicely.
If there was anything Draco loved about being a Malfoy, other than power and money, it was the trademark good looks of the family. Sharp features, much like their wit, slender without the slightest imperfection. Draco knew he could walk into any room and catch at least one set of eyes with his presence. Draco's arm bent over to his back, grasping the shirt and eased it over his head.
Draco's head fell back, ruffling his hair; his shirt now only covered his arms and stomach. The boy's heartbeat quickened as a surge of hotness tightened around his groin. Draco's eyes fell shut as he breathed in shakily.
Something caught Harry's attention in the corner of his eye. He did not budge as he peered on helplessly watching Draco taking his shirt off; his mouth fell open. Harry's heart pounded at the sight. As if Draco could feel the inconspicuous eyes on him, his body went rigid. His eyes snapped open. And the shirt slipped out of his hands, cascading to the floor. Harry could not help but watch Draco's hand slowly grab onto the offending tight black shirt. His green eyes caressed Draco's skin with their gaze, moving up an arm, up his neck where Harry noticed the boy swallowing hard. He looked back up at Draco's face; he was staring directly at him. Harry darted his eyesight down to his belt, where his hands now rested.
Draco furrowed his brow in confusion at Harry. His own gaze followed Harry's. There was a considerable bulge in the boy's pants. He could not help but smirk. He cracked a smile and straightened up, setting the rumpled shirt in the locker.
Draco brushed back a few strands that had fallen. His hand lightly slid down his body, over his stomach, stopping at his own belt. He undid it in a matter of seconds. Draco tugged at the hem of his pants, unbuttoning them with ease. Slipping them off along with his shoes, he set them in his locker.
He turned and headed right for Harry. The boy held his breath as another wave of heat spread across his body. Harry nearly lost his bearings as the almost-naked Draco walked so close to him that he could feel his hand just barely brush his skin. Draco knew he had complete control over Harry for the moment. His eyes glinted with smugness.
Draco walked purposefully over to the sink, and turned the tap on and the water flowed freely into his palms. Draco bent over and braced himself as he splashed the cool water onto his face. The water streamed down his neck, clinging to his skin, as it inched its way down to his stomach. Draco parted his lips and his tongue slipped out, running over them. Harry moaned faintly at the gesture, watching the teasing tongue slide across the lips sensually. He was losing control of himself; his skin was now on fire.
Yeah, I bet you like the goods, Potter.
Draco looked at Harry with satisfaction. Something so harmless riled Harry up immensely. In fact, the boy's face turned quite red. And he dropped his shirt. Harry fumbled for it, and hurriedly pulled it over his head, inside out. He snatched the rest of his clothes and ran out of the locker room as soon as possible. Draco stood perplexed, curious as to what had rattled the boy. He bit his lip, shrugging his shoulders.
He headed back to his locker, thinking of ways to secretly humiliate Potter in front of everyone.
This should be an interesting match.
*~*~*
"Okay, there is no reason why we can't win today." Blaise stood in front of the Slytherin team under the tent.
Draco stood in the back, glaring threateningly at him.
"We all know why Crabbe can't be here today, but we managed to find someone equally as…uh…brutal." Zabini avoided eye contact with Millicent.
"Yeah! We are so going to win!" Pansy exclaimed, looking happily around the room, almost bouncing in her seat.
Draco huffed.
"Now, remember what we've been practicing. Hit 'em hard, knock 'em out, and cheat whenever possible. Are you paying attention to me, Malfoy?"
"Just guard the goals, and stay out of my face." Draco snatched his broom up and departed.
*~*~*
Draco walked confidently out onto the field ahead of the rest of the team. The billowing of the green robes caught everyone's eye; they moved in a distinct V shape. With Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini walking closely together behind Draco, Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard fell behind them, leaving Millicent Bulstrode and Gregory Goyle to take up the back. The wind swept around them, enticing them to the centre of the field as the roar of the crowd intensified with each step they took. The Slytherins paused, taking their positions. Draco felt his stomach tighten as tension built up inside him; he looked across at his opponents. Ron and Seamus were staring slack jawed in disbelief at the sight of Draco's new broom. Their hands rose, pointing at the Serpent Ten; a hushed whisper fell among the Gryffindor team. Draco offered them one of his cool, detached sneers, and kicked off from the ground.
He drew level with Harry and raised one of his eyebrows in acknowledgment. The other Seeker deliberately kept his eyes on Madam Hooch as Draco took his place just opposite of him, above every other player. Harry's cheeks tinged with a light pink; Draco tightened his grip on his Serpent Ten, and bit the side of his mouth, trying to keep a serious face. Madam Hooch took her spot next to the Quidditch chest. She kept her broom in her right hand as her left foot rested on the top of the chest. Waiting for the rest of the straggling team members to get into position, her yellow eyes scanned the field.
"All right, let's keep this clean for once." She eyed Blaise first; he sat upright as she looked towards him and attempted his innocent little boy act.
Madam Hooch grudgingly turned towards Seamus Finnigan and her eyes and expression ran cold. Seamus nodded angelically while she glared at him, but the second she turned towards the chest, his face lit up and he laughed merrily. His broom wavered under his laughter, as Madam Hooch opened the chest with a soft kick. The two Bludgers exploded out of the chest; one headed straight towards Seamus but was evaded easily by a quick jerk of his broom. The Golden Snitch hovered momentarily, quivered from side to side, unsure of which way to head, and then rushed upward in a suicidal fashion. It spiralled around, weaving itself through all the gusts of wind; its wings nearly broke. The Snitch climbed further still, past the two Seekers, finally veering off to the left as the clouds overhead loomed ominously. The two Seekers trained their eyes on the ball, watching its every move as it scurried off in an unsteady manner. Finally, the Quaffle was released. Neither boy heard the whistle, but rather felt the game crackle with tension as it began.
Colin's voice boomed over the crowd. "First game of the season! Slytherin versus GRRRyffindor!! This should be a most exciting match! And lookit Harry go! Already after the Snitch!!"
Draco pulled his broom and charged after Harry. The blond closed the gap within seconds and passed the other boy, leaving him far behind. The clouds severed the last of the light that fell over the landscape. Draco kept his vision locked on the Snitch; he breathed in unsteadily, amazed that he was now within arms length of the sought after ball so early in the game. His right hand gripped the handle of the broom as his other arm reached out towards the Snitch. Just as his fingers brushed up against the fluttering wings, a familiar whooshing noise drew closer. Draco had just enough time to turn his head and see a black Bludger barrelling towards him; he dived into a somersault, and avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it hurtled by. He looked around furiously, searching for the unknown assailant. He found Ron laughing merrily, waving his bat around in the air.
"What a crafty move made on Ron Weasley's behalf! Slytherins don't stand a chance against the Gryffindor Beaters. AND LET'S NOT FORGET HOW AWESOME HARRY IS!" McGonagall gave Colin Creevey a warning glare.
Draco furrowed his brow in frustration; the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at Harry; the boy had lost sight as well. He saw his chance to tease Harry as he had his eyes set on him; he ran his tongue seductively over his lips as he had in the locker room. Draco turned and headed back into the game, plotting Ron's demise, leaving Harry blushing profusely.
*~*~*
The storm had come, unleashing all its fury on the game. The sky poured relentlessly onto the field; the wind blew in every direction. Draco ran both hands through his drenched hair, frustrated, only to have it fall back into his eyes. Apparently, the Gryffindor team's big strategy was to be highly defencive, in other words, Seamus Finnigan going after everyone in sight. The game started off fairly innocent; Gryffindor scored the first five times; Zabini was obviously not on top of his game. Baddock managed to do a fake out on 'Stonewall Dean', scoring the first ten points for Slytherin. Seamus came into action, smashing a Bludger into the side of Zabini's head, knocking him out indefinitely. This left the goals wide open for Gryffindor. Draco tried to defend the goals, but soon gave up and instructed Goyle to fly near the hoops and block them with his body. With his mind focused, Draco's line of attack consisted of making obscene remarks or gestures at Harry, destroying any concentration he had left to find the Snitch. The rain was not helping the situation much either; Harry's glasses fogged and his hands kept slipping off the broomstick. The Snitch only appeared twice more. The first time, Ron sabotaged Draco once again. The other time, Draco grazed his broom's tail against Harry's and flipped over, almost falling the whole sixty feet. Harry held a grudge against him the rest of the game.
Seamus was focused on stalking Pansy, cutting her off whenever she tried to shake him. With Seamus right on her back, there was no way she could concentrate. The Quaffle flew past her so many times that the team stopped trying to throw it to her anymore. Seamus' eyes glittered with triumph as his bat struck a Bludger, slamming it in her direction, hitting her directly in the back. With the wind knocked out of her, she fell head first into the field of mud.
Millicent Bulstrode was of no help either; she was never meant to ride a broom. The wind distracted her constantly, veering her off course whenever she went into 'action'. Droplets of water soaked her hair, smearing strands all over her face. Her hands lost grip of the broom, and she fell to the ground twice. As luck would have it, she remained unharmed. Bulstrode kept getting back into the game, albeit with layers of mud plastered onto her robes.
Another Bludger hurtled past Draco's head. He barely ducked in time. Ron had made it his sole purpose to prevent Draco from catching the Snitch, by any means necessary. Draco shot a murderous glare at the redhead, as Harry coasted overhead laughing heartily. Draco had had it with the game Ron was playing with him. He saw Goyle across the pitch defending Baddock, who had scored the two sole goals Slytherin had made. Before Goyle realized what happened, Draco had the boy's bat and was on the search for a black ball. He saw one heading towards him, as red hair bobbed in the corner of his eye. Draco hit the Bludger as hard as he could, and Ron was out for the rest of the match. Harry caught the foul and was now more determined than ever to catch the Snitch as Draco swooped near him calling out, "Now it's just you and me, Potter!"
Harry felt the adrenaline pulsating through his veins. He turned around to find Draco in a dive. He looked ahead and the familiar glimmer of gold rushed just feet in front of the blond. Harry set off after the boy, seriously lagging behind. The distance shortened slowly as Harry steeped his dive. Draco almost had the Snitch in his grasp. Without thought, Harry yanked on the green robes; Draco lost his hold of the broom. And then there was a cool, sinking feeling as Harry's face slammed into the mud. He felt a body squirming under him, pushing him off. Harry cursed under his breath as he was thrown onto his back.
"It's mine Potter!"
The words reignited the boy's passion; he ploughed into Draco. He shoved the boy's head into the mud with no intent on stopping. The two thrashed about, fighting for dominance, while the audience sat spellbound at the spectacle that unfurled below them. No one knew who had caught the Snitch or even if it had even been caught for that matter. The rest of the players in the air sat motionless on their brooms. Mud flew everywhere, as their bodies collided into the earth. Harry's glasses were ripped off his face and sunk into the mud a few feet over. Draco kept a death grip on the Snitch, as he shoved mud into Harry's mouth with the other hand.
"You like that don't you, Potter! Mmm! MUD!" Vengeance had never felt so sweet.
Harry's eyes went dark as he closed his hand into a tight fist. His arm shot forward, connecting squarely with Draco's jaw. Draco looked down at Harry in disbelief through mud-covered strands of hair. He blinked.
"Oh, that's how you wanna play?"
Harry's eyes bulged as Draco strangled him with his free hand. The hand clutching his neck was not forceful, but rather fixed, keeping his head firmly onto the ground. A scorching sensation travelled down from Draco's arm into his body. Both boys shuddered under its power. Harry's eyes widened further still; everything took on a new dimension. He could feel the connection, was able to see his blood coursing through Draco's veins, able to discern the emotions running fiercely. Harry knew he was losing touch with reality, as well as Draco. Draco's mind opened up in front of him. Harry saw the Snitch fluttering about in his mind, finally resting in his palm. There, he saw a boy truly happy; Harry smiled. Everything seemed to weaken in front of him. The boy tried holding onto reality; he kneed Draco in the stomach. Draco keeled over, clutching his abdomen. What they felt, what they saw erased from their minds. Harry sat up to look at Draco, able to see and feel through all the mud that a blurry Draco was more than furious for having been struck in the stomach. Draco got to his knees and threw himself onto Harry, forcing him back down to the ground. Draco pulled Harry's arm around his back, forcing it as far as it would go, and then some; Harry yelled out in pain.
Madam Hooch dove down to end the wrestling match. Just as her feet lapsed under her weight in the mud, Draco won the battle. Both of Harry's arms were trapped under his left hand above the boy's head, as Draco straddled him. Their robes clung to them, mud plastered all over their bodies. With his right arm in the air, he revealed the Golden Snitch in his palm.
"I win." A genuine smile swept over his face.
Colin's voice echoed across the pitch in disbelief, "Draco Malfoy has…caught th-the Snitch?!"
There was a long silence as the idea settled into everyone's mind. The Slytherins cheered loudly. Harry's heart sank. His eyes bore into Draco, expressing all the pain of finally losing to him.
"BUT GRYFFINDOR STILL WINS!!!" The crowd erupted in cheers at the declaration.
"WHAT?!" Draco yelled. Reason number three.
Harry pushed Draco off of him; his hand let go of the Snitch and it took off back into the chilling air.
"You'll never beat me Malfoy," Harry spat, as he rose from the ground.
Harry picked up his glasses and wiped off the mud that clung to the lenses. He stomped off to join the other Gryffindors, leaving Draco in disarray. As the realization set in, Draco bitterly got up from the ground, and walked to the edge of the field. Zabini still lay face down nearby as the totals were called out: Slytherin 170, Gryffindor 180. Gryffindor had scored twice more while Draco's attention was diverted to Snitch catching and mud wrestling with Harry Potter.
Draco walked over to the unconscious boy, and kicked him roughly in the ribs, "DAMNIT ZABINI!" Blaise let out a pained "oomph" before his head rested back in the mud.
Draco ran his hands through his hair, pulling clumps of dirt from the strands. Gryffindor had won again, but Draco's own triumph overshadowed the team's loss. He began to walk off the field slowly in his hollow victory.
Defeating Harry Potter was a fantasy that he had nurtured for so long, but when he finally had, it felt nothing like it was supposed to.
*~*~*
"Seamus! For the last time! Put your shirt back on!"
"Nah man! I'm a free spirit!" Seamus hollered.
"You're not a damn hippie, now get your shirt back on!" Dean held onto Seamus' shirt, trying to control the boy.
"Hey, why don't you just calm down? Don't worry about it! C'mon, feel the partay! You know you want to," the boy's eyes glimmered in a drunken bliss.
Seamus had his hands on the other boy's waist, rocking it to a beat only Seamus could hear. He tried persuading Dean that maturity was out of the question for the night. No adults, spiked Butterbeer, a victorious Quidditch match, spiked Butterbeer, girls, oh and more spiked Butterbeer!
The Weasley twins had discovered a charm the year before that, when cast upon any drink, would cause whoever drank it to feel like he had imbibed serious amounts of alcohol. Amazingly enough, the twins passed it onto Ron, somewhat out of guilt for turning him into a miniature pink elephant with one of their latest experiments over the summer. Actually, it was more like bribing Ron into not telling their mum. Whatever the reason, Ron and his friends put the charm to good use.
A handful of Gryffindors snuck over to Hogsmeade and stuffed their robes with bottle after bottle of Butterbeer.
A few witches standing near them chuckled.
"Remember when we used to do that, Fran?"
"Mmhmmm, kids never change," and the two left the group to their hoarding.
The party started without them, but remained dull and boring with idle chitchat as they waited for the drinks to arrive.
When the group entered, the whole room erupted in cheers and clapping; now the party could get started. Just as everyone was about to take their first sip, the food crew returned with the last of the pastries and desserts from the kitchen. Seamus whooped and hollered on one of the tables. Everyone chanted, "Chug chug chug!" over and over as the Irish boy downed the first Butterbeer. He wiped away the enchanted liquid that dribbled down his face and jumped off the table. He staggered around for a few minutes; the charm went into effect. All around, bottles were emptied and everyone loosened up in drunken stupor.
Dean, however, avoided the tainted Butterbeers; he was afraid what people might think of him if he drank any. The room grew noisier and people were falling over in laughter all over the place. Seamus opened a new bottle and shoved it in the boy's face. There was a sinking feeling in his chest that reached down past his stomach as he took the bottle in his hand. Dean stared down into the frothy brew.
"Go on! Quit being such a priss. It won't kill ya!" Seamus grinned, with one hand still swaying the other's hips.
Dean sighed heavily and took a swig. It did not taste any different from any other Butterbeer he had drunk before. The same warming feeling coated his body and he smiled. His eyes fell shut when he put the drink to his mouth again, still unsure if he should be doing this. His face began to tingle, as he heard Seamus laughing at him for being so overdramatic. He punched the boy in the shoulder light heartedly and finished off the rest of his bottle. Satisfied with corrupting yet another friend, Seamus snatched back his shirt and took off after a couple of girls walking by, leaving Dean to find his own entertainment.
The boy walked over to the couches, holding his empty Butterbeer, completely forgetting that he still had it in his hands. He took a seat, smiling broadly and wondering why he had been so worried in the first place. Nothing that made you feel this good could be that bad. Dean looked over, finding Ron and Hermione sharing the same bottle and chair. Hermione sat on his lap, talking intimately about how well he had played in the game. She stroked his red hair and kissed him on the forehead. Ron leaned up and captured her lips with his. He ran his hands through her hair and stared into her eyes. Hermione pressed her smile against his. They kept at it, showering each other in kisses, finally being interrupted by Crookshanks jumping up on Hermione's lap. The cat meowed and hiccupped. Hermione giggled and pet the giant cat. It purred loudly and slumped over.
"I think Crookshanks had a bit o' that Butterbeer," Ron poked the sleeping lump in the stomach. He began collecting the cat into his arms, "Oh, Dean? While you're up, could you take Crook and put him somewhere?"
"Don't you dare Dean!" Hermione jumped up and swooped Crookshanks into the safety of her arms. Dean nodded and left, in search of some of his own action.
"As for you Ron, my cat will not be put just anywhere all willy-nilly!! Think of—"
"My mistake, I don't know WHAT I was thinking. Here, I'll take him up to your room if you want." He was not in the mood to be lectured on something else he did not care about, so appeasing Hermione was the only thing in mind.
"I'll go with you, you know Seamus is, uhh, out and about," Hermione looked around with concern.
Ron carefully took Crookshanks from Hermione. In one arm, he held the sleeping ball of fur, and with the other, he wrapped tightly around Hermione, comforting her. They left the couches and headed on up to Hermione's bedroom.
"Quit that Seamus!" Lavender Brown screamed as Seamus once again snapped his shirt on her arse. The boy still had not put his shirt on and he had no intention to do so for the rest of the night.
"Oh, you know you like it!" Seamus grabbed her by her waist. He had other plans for that night; he slung the girl over his shoulder and grunted as he walked towards the stairs.
Lavender kicked her feet around, pretending that she was being kidnapped, "Somebody help me!"
Seamus bounced up the stairs with Lavender in tow. When he reached the top, he turned to look down at the party. "Don't have too much fun without me!" With that, he made his exit, screaming Lavender and all.
Everyone but Harry seemed to be having a fun time at the victory party. Harry tried to at first, by drinking some of the Butterbeer, but it only worsened his dark mood. Colin and Dennis Creevey tried cheering him up by telling him over and over how good he looked playing in the game earlier and how Malfoy must have cheated, since there was no other possible way for him to beat Harry. Harry glared at them threateningly. Both boys blinked, looked at each other, swallowed hard and let Harry be for the rest of the night.
Harry knew that Draco had not cheated to catch the Snitch, and he was incensed with himself. With his new broom, Malfoy was now a better Seeker than him.
What's wrong with me? First, I'm staring at Malfoy. Malfoy for fuck's sake! What the hell! What the hell was I thinking…I could use some new boxers. Haven't in a while. His look nice. I wonder where I could get some. Bugger…I gotta piddle. Oh sod it! I'm comfy. At least no one's bothering me. I hate them. Always so damn happy…wish I could tell them though. Stupid Dumbledore and his stupid rules. There's no point in not telling them 'cept to keep me miserable. Well, guess what Dumbledore!! It's working! Not only do I have to keep my mouth shut, but fucking Malfoy can feel me. Man, and he knows it, too. Bastard, using it against me. So, what if I liked his dragon…er…boxers! Yeah! Well, I bet I'm not the only person that thinks those are really nice…boxers. Maybe, he had a spell put on them…to keep me distracted. Yeah, that's why I couldn't concentrate. Those were a nice pair of boxers. Evil, yes. But nice. That's how he beat me, I bet. Next time, Harry, just ignore those evil boxers. You'll get the Snitch and everyone will be proud and everything can go back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be. Man, I want another Butterbeer.
Harry let out a muffled cry, as Seamus hopped on him.
"C'mon Harry! This is a partay! Have some fun!!!"
"What are you doing down here so soon?"
"Oh, Lav got all tired. She needs more energy, that one, I'm tellin' ya."
"Mmm." Harry looked around frantically to find something or someone to distract Seamus.
"Seam?"
"Yes, mah dear?" Seamus asked.
"Yeah, uhm, no offence or anything, but could you get offa me? I can't breathe." Harry sighed as he lifted himself up, but to his dismay, Seamus shoved Harry over and sat next to him.
"Seam?" Harry asked, looking the other boy up and down.
"You know what I was thinking Harry? That you looked awfully bored over here in this dreadful corner all alone. Care to have a go?" Seamus winked and laughed.
"That's quite alright…I'm not bored, just thinking…about stuff."
"Well, that's horribly horrible! You're no fun!!! What happened to the Harry that I knew that liked to partay?" Seamus attempted to act sincere.
Harry blinked. "Funny. I've never met that Harry."
"That's what I'm talking about! Stop trying to act all growed up and think. No no! Bad Harry!" He slapped Harry upside the head to reprimand him. "Now here's whatcha need to do…"
"First, could you go and get me another Butterbeer? I'm all out and thirsty." Harry asked.
"Oh, I can do better than that! Here you seemed pretty bummed out about that dirty git catching the Snitch. How's about I give ya a FREE 'Famous Seamus Slippery Lap Dance'! Rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, that doesn't exactly quench my thirst. And blimey Seamus, you do that for everyone!"
"I told ya they're famous!"
"Seamus. NO."
"Aww, c'mon, not even just a little? Fine, fine. How's 'bout a snog then?"
"Seamus, get your slutty hands offa me! And find someone else willing to FUCK YOU!" Harry did not mean to be so loud or harsh as that, but he felt it out of his control.
"WHOA. Okay…I think you need some 'me' time. SERIOUSLY. Come see me when you're all right." Seamus walked away, surprised at Harry's behaviour, but his attention was soon diverted to a group of girls getting awfully comfortable together on a chair in the corner.
Harry's arms shook from the rage. It did not matter what Seamus was doing, nothing should have angered him that much. Little blips of images flashed in front of him. A room with Goyle, and another with Blaise Zabini. Harry almost attacked the vision with his hands and feet. He never wanted to see that again. Ever. Then, he smelled something, much like peppermint. It overpowered his senses. And finally, a dragon. It was peaceful, sleeping curled up. His anger heightened at the sight of it being thrown. Harry nearly called out a spell to keep it from breaking. He saw a girl standing feet away, coated in red from all the hatred. Harry breathed in and out, not wanting to see what would happen next. He repeated a little mantra that he thought of on the spot.
Be calm. Stay calm. Happy. I am happy. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts Harry…
An elegant hand gripped his neck. Could not feel, not breathe, he was suffocating. Suffocating in those grey eyes that held so much fury. Fury for him, fury for every little mistake that the blond did. And Draco was taking it out on him, draining out on him, draining his emotion upon him. Bittersweet, that is how it felt, that is how it tasted and Harry loved it. Loved to feel that achingly, tantalizingly tender pressure, pressure of a body, of a body on his, his, his breathing hitched. There was nothing, no time, no reality, just him and Draco. Their eyes locked, looked, peered, penetrated one another knowing all along what they themselves did not. And Harry could only do one thing, he fell. Fell under the spell of seduction that twisted, entangled, wrapped around and around in a dizzying daze that left him light headed.
Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick!
*~*~*
Rain beat against Draco's window, as he lay in his bed. After the game, he had immediately left the field, avoiding the locker rooms, and went straight to his room. The hot shower had done little to calm him. All his thoughts focused on Harry; the look on Harry's face when he saw Draco holding up the Snitch, and the exhilarating feeling holding the golden ball with Harry writhing underneath him. The hushed whispers from the stands echoed in his ears still.
Looking up at the ceiling hours later, Draco still thought of Harry, of their 'circumstance'. He wondered how long the potion was going to last. Wondered what was going on between them, and if things would really change. His thoughts momentarily drifted to the locker room. Harry had been staring at him. Draco knew what Harry had felt. The rush of arousal was overwhelming. And during their fight, the intensity of Harry's anger was frightening. Their connection was frightening. He felt like the entire world disappeared when they fought.
He felt like the entire world ceased to exist if he even thought about Harry. Which seemed to be all he could do lately. The dark haired boy had been haunting his dreams for weeks. Prancing around in his thoughts during class. Generally being a twit and wreaking havoc on his mind. And all without knowing it.
Damn, he's good…
Draco's eyes shot open, leaving Potter to drift around in his mind, before he turned to the door. He faintly picked up on a padding pair of feet. He pulled himself off of his bed to face the intruder, his wand in ready position. His stomach churned uneasily, he began to feel nauseous. By the time he was within reach of his door, it opened. And she stood there, his beauty queen whore.
It had been years since their first time together; Draco's first, ever. Despite his insecurities, everything was soft and caring. Draco just looked at her one day and knew. They met in his bed and he spoke sweet nothings in her ear; she would forever be his. He kissed her eyelids each time and held her, arms wrapped tightly around her, afraid to lose her. In his warped mind, he thought that he loved her and she loved him. That they would marry, have a family, and everything would be right in the world. And maybe she had loved him, just never in his way. Her love stemmed from a guilty obsession with the Malfoy family. Dreams of marrying into one of the most respected wizarding families turned more into a reality everyday. But as the weeks passed, Draco grew bored of only having her to claim as his own. His prowl for his next victim did not last long; his sights centred on a certain Gryffindor: Lavender Brown. Despite what anyone thought, Draco actually did not mind her; she was sweet, pretty in her own sort of way, and she let Draco have his way with her. But, she was not the same, everything but his first. He went back to her, feeling incomplete without her. And she let him inside her once more. He held onto her, terrified of anything unknown.
The days grew into weeks and weeks turned into months. Even if Draco held onto his first, it would never be enough. With his sexual hunger increasing, his number of one night stands rose as well, but he kept her around. Every week they confided in each other, and they were content. Draco had his flings on the side and continued his constant relationship with her. She stayed, not caring whom he seduced, as long as he came back to her. They did everything imaginable, but as the years dragged by, Draco changed. Gone were his feelings of sentiment, his signs of affection, and his delusion of loving her. He realized that after so many years, he had made her into something she was not. There was nothing extraordinary about Pansy Parkinson, only that she was Draco's first.
He flinched as she stepped into his room; he now realized why he was feeling sick.
"Parkinson! How the hell did you –" Draco's voice raised, he took a step back as a confused expression spread over his face.
"Oh, Draco. You are so predictable!!" Pansy continued in a mocking tone, "Draco Malfoy is a sexy bitch," she smiled, proud to have figured out Draco's password after a week's worth of failed attempts.
"I am NOT predictable!" He made a mental note to change his password to 'Draco Malfoy: sex symbol.'
Pansy seductively slipped off her black school robes. Underneath she was wearing a dark green, low cut shirt and a skirt that was about five inches too short.
Draco raised his eyebrow. She looked like one of the tramps in the magazines Zabini always passed around. Eyelids painted with three shades of green, face hidden under layers upon layers of cover up, and dark red lips. Large silver hoops hung in her pierced ears and her hair shimmered under the light. The perfume she had sprayed all over her body reminded him of a crisp, winter rose.
The weather had lightened up; the rain had created a fresh, clean scent that floated into Draco's room through the open window. Pansy walked over to his desk, opening one of the drawers. She pulled out her oil burner that she had given him for moments like this. After adding the oil, she lit the candle, and walked back over to the door, closing it softly. She wanted everything to be perfect. No matter how many times they were together it was never enough for her; she always needed more. Her insides burned with anxiety; she stayed facing the door for a few moments longer. Draco had not come to her for three weeks now and she worried he was growing tired of her once more. She was meant to live in luxury, she knew it, and nothing was going to stop her. Of course, it was a plus in her mind that Draco was more than gorgeous, almost unearthly so. Whether he knew it or not, she keyed into his insecurities and made sure she was there to stay in his life, more than as his first lover, as his wife.
Turning around, she smiled coyly and stepped over to Draco. His eyes seemed distant and faded. She cupped his face, knowing she was the only person allowed to touch him intimately.
"Draco, honey? Somethin' the matter?" She began to stroke his hair.
He closed his eyes and turned into her embrace, "Nothing..."
"It's Potter, isn't it? On your mind again?"
He nodded softly, "Mmm…"
"Don't give him another thought. You beat him today, amazingly I might add. Speaking of amazing, you looked so delicious today Draco, wrestling with Potter for that Snitch…I was," she leaned in and ran her tongue along the side of his neck, "…really turned on watching you two."
Draco smiled; the look on Potter's face would be burned into his memory forever. How long he had been waiting for it he was unsure.
"I love it when you get all mad like that," she cooed.
Pansy grabbed a hold of his waist and led him over to the bed. She kissed him softly on the lips, but felt nothing in return. Pushing Draco in the chest, he fell onto his back on the bed. She slowly got on top of him, kissing his jaw line as she made her way up; he lay motionless under her. The oil burned; a peppermint steam rose. It overpowered the room, killing the sweet taste of rain that hung in the air. The mood changed from a dead isolation to a sensual bliss. And Draco went with the moment; the peppermint intoxicated him. Pansy straddled his waist and rocked her hips back and forth softly, wordlessly asking him to join her in the moment. As she kissed him on the lips once more, he did. His instincts kicked in, and he threw her off of him, further into the bed. Draco forced himself on top of her, pushing her shoulders into the bed with his arms roughly. He loved the feeling he got when he hurt people; it turned him on more than anyone could know.
"Oh! Yes! Hurt me!" Pansy moaned.
Draco leaned down and bit her shoulder. She whimpered softly, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. He possessed her, licking, biting, sucking, and clawing at her skin. Pansy moaned and trembled under him. He wondered why he had gone so long without her.
Draco had been hearing the same story from several Slytherins; everyone knew Pansy was his. Goyle was in Draco's front room; they had taken some of the food from the kitchen, and Draco was attempting to help Goyle with his Transfiguration homework.
"I'm starving!"
"…You're eating right now," Draco gave him a weird look.
"I know! Can you believe it?" Draco shook his head as he watched his friend inhale pastry after pastry. "Speaking o' that, Zabini's at it again."
Draco tensed hearing the boy's name and the insinuation, "You mean, right now?"
Goyle stuffed his face with a piece of cake and grunted. He nodded as an after thought.
Draco got up, leaving Goyle to daydream of cake. He stormed through the halls and descended into the dungeons. Draco demanded that the painting let him in. A few of the Slytherins moved out of his way. One must have figured out why he was there and called out to him, "They're in her room tonight."
Before he even reached the door, he could hear them. And their moaning. Draco stopped; his hands trembled as he partly opened the door. There was Blaise Zabini with his hands down Pansy's pants. Whatever dreams Pansy had were destroyed in that instant. It was one thing to use him for his money, but another altogether when he was being misled. Draco left them undisturbed telling himself over and over that 'she means nothing,' 'a stupid slut,' 'a whore'. But Blaise seemed to think he owned the world now that he had 'stolen' Pansy away from 'The Draco Malfoy'. He attacked Draco verbally whenever he had the chance, thinking that the boy was oblivious to it all. Pansy went along, pretending as though nothing had ever happened. She ignored the rumours circulating about Draco being in the Slytherin dorms that night. After all, she did not want to lose Draco and her entire future over some guy who was just a nice fuck.
"Ooh! Harder!" Pansy's demands brought Draco back.
He looked down at himself and what he was doing, what he had sworn to never do again. He took his hand from under her skirt, and grabbed her shirt, shoving it at her. The ecstasy was gone from her eyes in an instant.
"Get. Out."
Pansy lay motionless, unsure if he was serious. Draco grabbed her by her hair and yanked her off his bed, tossing her forcefully onto the ground. She screamed from the pain, her eyes began to water; makeup fell down her face. Draco turned away, not giving her a chance to look at him, to change his mind.
"What the fuck is your problem?! I don't know what's with you lately, Draco. You're so distant and being such a moody bastard, staying locked up in this room of yours. What about all the good times we had?!" She picked herself up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Draco turned around with a murderous glare, "They were never good. They all meant nothing. You mean nothing. Now leave."
Pansy gave Draco a stunned look; she realized he knew. Her world was crashing down before her and she was furious. Walking over to her school robe as if it were a death sentence, a glimmer of revenge caught her eye. On his desk lay his most prized possession. His mother had given him a sculpture of a dragon made of Obsidian, enchanted to look like it was sleeping. A charm had been placed upon it to prevent its owner from having nightmares. It was the only thing Draco could remember that his parents did that meant something to him.
Pansy's hand reached out and grabbed the stone, preparing to pitch it.
Draco had his wand pointing at her before she could pick it up off the desk, "Let go of that or I swear I'll ruin more than your fucking pathetic dream."
It did not matter to her what he did to her now; she began to throw it to the ground.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
He directed the dragon over to his bed. Draco's vision turned red from the anger and hatred coursing through his veins that called out for Pansy's blood. Pansy stared back at Draco, defiant.
"What did you think I was going to do, Draco? Wait around while you fucked everything that moved around here? Do you think that I don't hear about all your late night encounters? With Gryffindors, Draco! I thought you had standards! And when I heard about you and…that mudblood!" Pansy gave Draco a disgusted sneer.
"At least Blaise pays attention to me! And he doesn't treat me like I'm a possession. And I can have him whenever I want. Not just when he feels like it!"
He was writhing underneath him, Potter was writhing underneath him, up against him. Draco had his hand on, hand on him. Hot and heavy, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in Potter, breathe in Harry, and he could feel the burn. The burn of those eyes on him, those pure, tempting, jaded eyes. The temptation drew Draco in, pulled Draco into a world where the right was the right and the wrong could be just as right. And it felt so right, so perfect as there was no fear, no hate, no one else to ruin this life he had fallen into, this life falling into him. He could see it all, all in those eyes that hid no lies. They only spoke of a future that looked so promising, so loving, so right. And Draco succumbed to those eyes. Succumbed out of fear for losing his everything, his Harry.
"Draco! Are you even listening to me? This is important!"
Pansy took a step towards Draco.
Draco looked up at her, confused. "I thought I told you to leave. Get out. Go. Away."
"Make me!" She stood stubbornly in front of him.
Draco swooped down and grabbed her cloak. He walked firmly to where she stood, and shoved the cloak at her chest. Pansy raised her hand to grab the cloth, and fumbled as the cloak slipped through her hands. Draco stepped behind her, reached out and turned the doorknob. As the door swung open, Draco walked forward, grabbed the back of her shirt and threw her out of the room. She fell too the ground loudly, screeching. As she turned to look at Draco, his door slammed cruelly in her face.
Draco turned away from the door and smiled.
That was thoroughly satisfying!
The door shook as a loud thump! came from the other side. Pansy's footsteps echoed from the front room as she stormed out.
"Well, that went better than expected."
*~*~*
Hermione perused the titles of the ancient dusty books in the library the next morning. Her fingers closed around one in particular: Handbook of Herbology. She walked back over to her secluded corner. Moving a few books that were strewn across the table, she thumbed through the pages. She had put off doing the research for the Torn Lover for a few days now. Her Advanced Transfiguration essay was due in two weeks that absorbed most of her research time. She crammed all she had learned about Animagi into just over thirty inches of parchment. Then, of course, there was the Gryffindor party the night before.
After Ron and Hermione left to put Crookshanks back in the room, Ron became all romantic and held onto her, telling her how beautiful she was. She smiled as the memory flooded back. Her fingers passed over the word 'lover', and her eyes lit up. No one else could understand the joy she found in searching and uncovering bits of lost information. She did not mind though; the absence of others freed her of distraction whenever she went to work. Hermione's eyes scanned the passage. It was the same that she had heard from Professor Sprout. The Muggle man, the betrayal, and the burning of the witch. That is, until she read the last paragraph. Hermione pondered its meaning, got up and went on a search for a very different book. It was tucked away in a dark corner, and it took her several minutes to find it. She opened the book, blowing dust off the forgotten pages, and scanned through the dates.
"All right."
Her eyes focused on a date: sixteen hundred ninety-six. Her eyes shifted back and forth, devouring the pages contents. One word appeared over and over again. She slowly put the book down.
It can't be…
*~*~*
Author's Note:
Nicole – I am getting very jealous! NO ONE MESSAGES ME! I AM WHAT YOU CALL A 'COOL GUY'. Seriously! My AIM username is sherbertballz! I am funny and I am better than Sara. She steals all of my ideas and claims they are hers! What a whore! D: I am highly displeased!
Sara – Errm, sad thing is, I had to type that out 0.0 That's ok, I had fun with the formatting. Anyway, go IM Nicole sometime as I think she will castrate me =/ and that's not possible, but I think she can do it. NINE TIMES! Now, I will be reading the stories I promised I said I would; I plan on keeping my promises ^-^
Now, about this chapter. I am sooo sorry about that Pansy scene! That was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. Well, maybe Pansy and Blaise *shudders* there's a reason why I didn't go into detail about that. I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself. I could hardly even stand the whole Hermione/Ron. I'm disappointed in the locker scene though. I wanted it to be better, but I just couldn't do it. Sorry guys!
And this God forsaken site. I KILL FFN IN THE NAME OF SARA AND SUMIRE! DIE DIE DIE I can do it! I will do it nine times! Be gone with you FFN, you shall piss me off no more. And if you do, then I will make you suffer. Anyone else who wants to kill FFN, join in! There's plenty of it to go around! Also, I hate the word count on this site, it is NEVER right! For chapter 4, just the story part is 11,137 and it says this whole thing is 10,590 something. LIARS! ^-^ Am I the only person ever obsessed with numbers? I find myself alone =( please tell me I'm not alone!
*gasps* I think…I think, this is a first, I can't see one formatting problem *dies* I can't tell you how long I've been trying to get this right. I know it would have been really hard if the thoughts weren't in italics when they're supposed to be. Oh man, you better praise me for this. I finally defeated this FFN monster!
Bonuses –
1. The song Seamus is singing the locker scene, give me the title of the song AND the name of the person who wrote it.
2. If Goyle were to shove something under his pillow for secret eating, what would it be? (P.S. it's not chicken and if I find one person who says that, I'll have Nicole castrate you…or Draco, whichever)
Now, chapter 5, we have an outline all the way through it. We know what we want to do, but haha! We are going to make you suffer while we wait for the fifth book to come out since there are scenes that deal with this book. Look forward to some Lusciousness, crawling Draco, and a hospital visit, but for whooo?! No no, it's for both hahahaha!
So go review, entertain us with your words ^-^ I seriously do love reviews though, makes me feel all nice inside.
Pieces!
AIM: corrupted sight
Yahoo: yaydracoharry
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E-mail: Dracosnoggin@seductive.com
If you want to e-mail both of us, then use this e-mail: yaydracoharry@yahoo.com