Chapter Two-Crimson Saliva
Draco froze, not wanting to face the owner of the voice that called him, the voice that belonged to one Harry Potter.
"Malfoy, what are you doing out here?" Harry conveyed surprise and bewilderment in the colors of his expression.
Closing his eyes and stealing a deep breath, Draco pivoted to meet Harry. The storm gray in his features remained hidden by flesh as he slowly answered the boy's interrogatory.
"I told you before. I. Can. Not. Get. Home!" Malfoy became more and more irritated with each halted word. Why didn't Harry get it? Like the force of lightning, the solution had struck Draco hours before lifting the burden and erasing the invisible knot in his brow.
Shock definitely surfaced on Harry's face. The widened irises and drooping jaw illustrated as much.
"You-you mean, you've been out here? All this time?"
"Well, hello. Another point for the rejected Ravenclaw." Malfoy cocked his head to one side and then resumed his pacing. There was a tiny dip and flattened grass in the path Malfoy had traveled the last six or seven hours.
"So, why haven't you, you know, charmed yourself out of this one? Your father? Why are you still here?" So many questions marinated in the back of Harry's mind, but only a few were ready to be grilled.
"Like I said, if you'd been paying attention, it's nothing to you."
Malfoy's hands swung behind him and he entwined his fingers together, still following the path in the grass. Why does Potter care so much anyway? It's not like I'm at his house anymore. Malfoy snorted. No, he took care of that hours ago.
"You're wrong. It is something to me. You were in my bloody bedroom, that makes me involved, no matter how slightly," the Saint Potter was coming out, Malfoy thought, "and there is nothing you can do to stop me from helping you."
Harry furrowed his brows again and lifted his fingers to his hips, unconsciously letting the excuse of a sweater fall to the sun-warmed cement. Draco slowed his pacing and peered at Harry, standing there in blotches of moonlight, appearing erogenous and determined. Again the image of him straddling Harry, kissing passionately, swam unbidden before his eyes, and he looked away, slightly flushed.
"Damn it, Malfoy, just tell me what the hell is going on so I can help you!"
"You really want to know, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
"So does my father." Draco laughed depreciatingly. "He never knew what happened…" Looking up, Draco could see nothing but the dark entanglement of leaf-engulfed branches. A colorless smile plastered over his face as he angled his head to Harry's, his eyes were a liquefied granite when suddenly they hardened.
"But, you don't know." Malfoy began pacing again.
"Then bloody explain it to me."
A snort resonated around them. "Do you really care?" The tone of that question signified his lack of expectation for an answer; to Malfoy, the response was a no, for Draco, he didn't want to hear.
Changing his stance, Harry scowled more fiercely. "If I didn't, would I still fucking be here?" The waves of heated impatience pulsated beneath the tree.
That thought made perfect sense. Leave it to Potter to answer a question with a question…
"Fine."
"Go on, then."
A released breath, and movement in the shadows illustrated Harry and won this battle. He relaxed a bit, just noticing the acute pain in his formerly locked muscles.
What do I tell him? I can't reveal all of it, no it's just too—exposing. No, a truncated brief version…yes, that's perfect. Draco Malfoy cleared his now slightly constricted throat. An iced shell glazed Malfoy's wide silver eyes as he began.
"I was ten, I noticed the change. My father, he didn't feel anymore. He just lost the ability. It began slowly; only verbal at first and of course I was the focus back then. But his ambition got to him, he expanded to the physical and mental too."
Draco stopped, fearing he'd revealed too much even with the skeletal outline.
"Go on. I'm here." A tenderness escaped Harry's lips as he moved toward Draco.
Heart pounding faster, Draco found his mouth dry. He didn't want to continue, that past, the terrible history. A presence reached Draco's senses and a strong, warm pressure rested on his shoulder, and it gave him strength—Harry's strength.
"But then my mother joined in, and I was alone. I saved—ages I did—and I got my own place," Draco smiled thinking of the fifth floor flat, somewhere out there, barred from him until the early morning.
A breeze picked up, blowing away and tenderness in Malfoy. "And now I can't get back there." Frustration and anger hit Harry as Malfoy shrugged off his hand, automatically pacing once more.
"Oh."
What else was there to say? Speaking of getting back would be like completely ignoring the pain hinted in Draco's words. Harry searched the shadowed form, a new light surrounded him, radiating around his body, illuminating the real Draco Malfoy.
That one word, 'oh,' and the breath released within him, his chin hit his chest and his vision became complete blackness. He didn't understand.
Suddenly Malfoy felt betrayed, used. Why would anyone care so much about this? Especially Harry. They had been enemies since their first year. Well, that's wasn't by choice, really. His father had influence. Draco faced Harry, the sole ray of moonlight displaying Harry's features. What he saw there melted his resentment and another vision flashed before his eyes.
Harry on the flattened grass, shirtless, lips bruised from his attentions, bathed in the dim moonlight… Draco's grays widened as he realized the physical effect of the picture and he turned away. Something burned in the silver eyes Harry glimpsed and estrus poured through his veins. A magnetic pull, much like that of a Portkey, tugged at his hips where he took several steps toward Draco and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
The retuned pressure whipped Draco's face to Harry's. Harry watched something other than Draco's eyes and he descended upon him. Their lips met within the shadows, beneath the leaf canopy, under the stars.
A wave flooded the atmosphere around them as restraint and hatred left, as history and grief were forgotten, where all that remained was this suppressed yearning.
Draco turned his body into Harry's and wrapped his fingers around Harry's waist as Harry's searching palms found broad shoulders.
Floating in passion, both gave and received the pressure of the kiss. Harry felt a slick brush across his lower lip, Draco's tongue requesting permission. An answering sweep and Draco slid in, tongues tangling within the cavern of Harry's mouth.
More than mere desire passed between them, something strong and tangible, yet unnamable. Pressing nearer, Draco flitted his fingertips up and down Harry's sides, eliciting a slight shiver from him. Draco smiled into the kiss.
With their bodies so close together, Harry could feel a rigid line along the crease at his thigh. He was sure Draco could feel his own, the knowledge adding to the erotic moment, under a tree, in virtually plain sight.
A swift brush of tongues and Draco groaned deep within his throat. The sound intensified as the movement was repeated, again and again. Draco wanted to return the pleasure, needed to hear the returning moan and shifted his hands to Harry's muscled chest, gripping and pressing in all the right places.
The reward was more than a growl, for Harry broke the kiss and trailed his lips along Draco's jaw, following the line and down his neck.
"Harry."
The breathless, husky whisper flowed from his mouth as the sweet pressure persisted at the base of his throat. The slick muscle whirled in spirals along with nips and bites. The sensations nearly brought Draco crashing down. The demand of his protruding member strained painfully against his flowing robes.
Harry's fingers slid from shoulders to hips as he continued the pleasurable torture on Draco's sweet neck. The sounds of their encounter echoed around them in a place that was not a place in a time that was not a time.
Another guttural groan resonated through the air.
He knew his son was near, could sense him close by. The deep blue shadow cloaked Lucius as he apparated onto Privet Drive, the pale light directly elucidating the brisk night. Slow echoing footsteps trailed his high-rimmed boots while the mistral wind was trapped in the caverns of his black cape.
Gray crystals observed the surrounding azure shades and icy nooks, seeking his son. He prowled the proximate streets as well, hunting for the frosty blond head when he caught a sound lingering in the shadow.
Lucius iced a path nearer the magnolia, and detected cobalt profiles within the undergrowth. A soft movement and the moonlight reflected first sleek blond then ruffled black. Realization chilled him as he lingered as dense as the blue gloom encasing him.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I will make certain you collect your just desserts."
Falling brows hid the bitter stare as…
CRACK!
The foreign sound ricocheted sliced through the thick sultry ambiance and both boys shot apart, both breathing heavily.
"What was that?" desire laced Harry's panting tones as his fingers itched to return to Draco's flesh.
"Who cares?" Draco, spellbound by the magic of their passion, reached for Harry, who slipped just out of his grasp.
"Wait, it might have been someone from the Or—another wizard." The moment vanished and Malfoy dropped his arms. "We should get you home, I'm sure you don't want to be here."
Of course, Saint Potter knows how everyone feels. "Right."
An answer not in protest or assent, it killed something within Harry's chest and his features transformed to mask a new pain. It flickered in his eyes before his lids hid them from view.
"Er, what area did you rent the place from?" Hollowed and raspy, Harry spoke to his shoes.
Malfoy thrust Harry a contemptuous look before speaking.
"It's near the London area, close to the Thames." He pushed away any reply with a graceful gesture. "I already know how to get back. But, I have to wait until the dark of the morning."
Harry blinked, twice. A grunt and he folded his arms. "You let me believe you were stranded here." And he thought there was a new Malfoy, one who felt pain and knew hardship. Was the last just a façade?
"No, I didn't tell you I had it figured out." A smirk appeared, but quickly vanished as Draco finally caught sight of the emotion in Harry's eyes. It was carnal, yet he couldn't quite place it. "I'm apparating back."
"Why didn't you do that before?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"No." Harry's pain was being replaced by irritation. "You have to spell it out for a slug."
"Less than a slug, Potter. The flat is charmed un-plotable, un-apparatable, all that other stuff. My father is a De—" Malfoy recovered just in time, "intelligent wizard."
Though Draco loathed his father with a passion comparable to that of a few moments ago, he wouldn't admit the truth to Harry. He'd already been in Azkaban for a time, Draco still would never divulge such information voluntarily—Lucius was his father.
"Right." Harry shuffled his feet, another awkward moment passed. "I'd better get going then…"
He looked up at Malfoy, hope gleaming within his eyes. Malfoy saw the gaze, Draco noted the emotion and cracked an imperceptible smile.
"Right."
A faltering and then failed grin flickered on Harry's features and he turned and began walking to the park again. What have I just done?
"Hey, Potter."
Harry twisted back, surprised.
"You dropped this."
Draco tossed him a dirty rag. Harry caught it, and faced forward again, taking another step.
"Potter…"
Harry halted. "What?"
Draco hesitated, he didn't know what to say, only that he didn't want Harry to leave yet. Going over the six or seven hours out here, alone, Draco could touch the emptiness. And then there was Harry, flushed and swollen lips barely visible, almost identical to the image of him on the grass, perfect companion for the few hours ahead.
"Do you think you could turn around? It's hard enough—" Draco smiled at the double meaning. Harry must have caught it too, for his shoulders were shaking.
Spinning quickly, Harry glared. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
A lot more than you think. Where that thought originated, Draco refused to discover. Cocking his head to the side, he considered the question, trying desperately to find an answer that would keep Harry here.
Harry recognized the hesitation and the darting gray eyes. The folds in his brow smoothed and he smiled, slightly mocking.
"Do you want me to sit with you, Malfoy?"
Malfoy jumped, and glowered. If he didn't know better, he'd swear Potter could read minds. His immediate reaction was to deny it completely—he moved his mouth to voice his protests, but remembered that he really did want Harry to converse with him, and since he was the one that offered, in a way—
"It might be nice."
"Might be?"
"I won't beg you, Potter, if that's what you're after." Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at Harry.
He just shrugged and spread his arms wide. "Why don't we walk to the park?"
Malfoy inclined his head and moved to Harry's side. Harry released his arms and began leading the way. Malfoy fell in step next to him, and they walked in pregnant silence all the way to the edge of the square. Harry stopped and removed his beat up shoes. Liberating his toes, he made fists in the sand and let it slip from his feet into tiny piles.
"That's interesting, Potter. How old are you? Five?"
"Shut up, Malfoy. You are only here because I invited you along. The rules say you have to be polite."
"Since when did we ever go by rules?"
Harry scowled at the truth in that statement and marched to the two swings off to the left. He picked one and plopped onto the seat, rocking gently back and forth, staring up at the clear night sky.
"You are such a great host, you know? Making sure your guests are occupied and happy…" Malfoy had waltzed over to the other swing and slid on it.
"Yeah, but I don't have any guests right now."
He fell silent, still looking at the bright stars and non-existent clouds. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he could sense Malfoy's presence the few feet away, and it made his lips tingle with expectation. Only, he couldn't do anything about it; just feel. Malfoy didn't really want to be here, or with him—he just wanted to be with someone.
And I was the only one nearby. Harry sighed and watched floor-ward, to the thick and clumsy patterns in the sand from his toes. The image disturbed him, and he set off swinging slightly, the creaks of the chain echoing in the air.
A high-pitched moan reflected Harry's own emotions, the sharp tone symbolic of his frustration and the groan a likeness to the moments under the magnolia. But Malfoy didn't want him, not like he wanted him. Harry's flesh screamed for contact with pale skin and his lips ached for sweet pressure. His body thrummed with wanting, completely directed at one Draco Malfoy.
The stillness of the air, broken only by the screeching of Harry's swing, unsettled Draco, who just perched on the rubber strip. There seemed to have been such desire beneath that tree, the moment was beautiful, under the moonlight, engulfed in fervent embrace. The exotic and open action sent frozen shivers down his spine. Why had he broken the spell? And a spell it was…the magic woven by none other than archenemy Harry Potter. The fascinating movements of his tongue on flesh, his talented hands roaming the planes of muscle all interweaving to create the perfect bind to craving.
Unexpectedly, Draco stood and moved around the set, to the small stretch of blacktop in the back. He stood, hands clasped at the small of his back, the thousand-mile stare apparent in his eyes. The glaze still intact, he bent and picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingertips as he paced.
There was much more than met the eye with Harry, and Draco wanted to discover and explore that something. The pebble soared from his hands, arching and bouncing off Harry's neck.
"What was that for Malfoy?" Harry curled around the chain and glared at him.
Draco's brows shot near his hairline. "Oops." He smirked and plucked another, sending this too flying to Harry's third eye.
"Ow!" Fingers flew to the area and rubbed gently. Harry jumped to his feet and leaped after Malfoy, a smile on his face. Draco dodged Harry, no problem, and moved farther back, grasping a few more pebbles on the way and pelting Harry's kneeling form. The one-sided dominance soon became a full-fledged battle, both boys running and assaulting each other with pebbles, laughter reverberating through the park.
Harry rushed to the plastic jungle gym and hid within the bars and slides, ducking in the shadows hoping to throw off Draco's sense of him. He crouched low and slowly moved around the edge, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleek form…
Footsteps sounded, quiet and slow, Harry knew Draco to be just around the corner, waiting for that slip of body. Harry smiled to himself, he'd get him first, the sweat of anticipation lingering on his lips. Slowly, his face reached the corner. A few more inches and he'd see Draco searching for him. He tensed his muscles, closed his eyes, made ready for the attack. In a swift movement, he whipped around the corner, albeit silently.
No Malfoy. Strange, he should be there. Harry's brows furrowed and he slinked back, standing straight under the plastic platform. He turned around and took a step, bumping into something hard, something solid.
Draco.