10. Poetics
"You play dirty, Malfoy."
Harry sat in Malfoy's arms, his warm breaths caressing the boy's neck. He was leaning his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder, trying to shake off the confusing effects of the Truth Potion. The small pellet had been very strong with influence, but luckily transient. Gentle shivers went trough Harry's body as the clope gradually burned away. The world around was illusory, and Harry didn't open his eyes, fearing that he would lose the dream of Draco Malfoy if he did.
"Of course I play dirty. I'm still a Slytherin, remember."
Draco felt very relaxed, which was quite the opposite of what Potter was feeling. He enjoyed the Gryffindor boy's weight in his arms, enjoyed his spicy breaths and his dozy nuzzling against his shoulder. Reaching for his fire whiskey again, he returned to follow how the rest of the party was going.
They are all pretending that they don't consider Potter and me anything special, Draco smiled at himself. Although I can clearly see that they're all very perplexed. Crabbe and Goyle's faces are the most laughable. Ten points for the chubby Slytherin zombies, each!
Draco buried his nose in Potter's raven locks. A pleasurable scent of green apples filled his nostrils. This really is something special. What the hell am I doing? What the hell is Potter doing? We both must be crazy. Merlin, he's the fucking Harry Potter! And I'm Draco Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor! My father would kill me if he knew!
Draco pressed his eyebrows together. On the other hand, this doesn't necessarily mean anything serious. Why couldn't I play with the Boy Who Lived for a short while? I would get the upper hand of him, for certain. He's just too good-natured to suspect a betrayal. And in the end, when he's helplessly in love with me, and when I am totally bored with him, I could hand him easily to the Dark Lord, and get the undying respect of the Death Eaters.
He tensed slightly as Potter slithered an arm around his bare waist. He had completely forgotten that his shirt was open, and was taken by slight surprise. However, very nice surprise. Draco was positively turned on when Harry scratched his back gently right over the waistline of his trousers. They had been tight already from the beginning on, but now he seemed to grow out of them in just seconds. Mmh… perhaps I shouldn't think about serious matters tonight…
"Well, well. Isn't this interesting," a sarcastic statement came abruptly from Draco's left side. The speaker was Terri Boot from Ravenclaw, glancing murderously at Harry.
"Yes, I find this rather interesting as well, Boot," Draco answered tediously, taking a smouldering nip from his whiskey. "What do you want?"
Boot shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking extremely put out. "You are a sodding liar, Malfoy. You told me you weren't gay, and here you are, fucking Harry Potter in your arms, you motherfucker!"
"Language," Draco said, taking his coldest expression. "If you can't swear fluently, don't swear at all. Your pitiable attempts to be tuff really bore me."
"I don't care! You're a slimy swindler, a deceitful bastard!" Boot cried. "You don't know how disappointed I was when you let me know you weren't gay. And look at you now!"
Draco's grey eyes were smiling like freezing ice cubes in a Daiquiri drink. "If I remember correctly, I never told you I was not gay, Boot. I never told you anything at all."
Boot scrunched his fists and spoke from between his compressed teeth. "You still let me understand that you were straight."
At this point, Harry opened his eyes and began to follow the spar curiously, his head cutely leaning on Malfoy's chest.
"And why would I care what kind of impression you have on me, Boot?" Draco's stare was so serrated it could've cut Terri in two halves.
"You twisted bastard!" Boot rampaged, his small blue eyes glistering with jealousy towards Harry. He took a pint of Warrington's Special from the table and threw the liquor straight at Draco's face.
"This is what impression I have on you, Malfoy! Sticky, deceitful and bitter!"
Never before in his life had Draco experienced a drink thrown at his face. He was dazed for a moment, scowling at his liquor-streaming locks. And then he was infuriated. He tried to get up to punch Boot, but Potter reined him in, pressing him back in the chair.
"Don't mind him, Malfoy," he said, smiling craftily.
Draco arched his other eyebrow, out of the old habit. "Don't mind him? He just fucking ruined my coiffure!"
Harry swiftly dived for Draco's neck and began to trace the lines of the dripping alcohol with his tongue. "I wouldn't say he ruined anything…"
Draco inhaled with the sudden pleasure. Potter's wet mouth stroking his neck felt overwhelmingly good.
"You taste so good…" Potter teased, and moved over to clean Draco's chin. Gingerly, he then kissed the liquor away from Draco's lips, then caressing his jowl with the tip of his tongue. He gave Terri Boot a nastily side-splitting glance, biting Draco gently from the corner of the jaw.
"Mmh, ahh… Potter…" Draco moaned, making Terri Boot rant out of his wits.
"Oh, Malfoy…" Harry played along, sliding his hands around Draco's neck and pulling him into a devoted kiss.
Boot couldn't handle it anymore. He stormed away, the tendons of his neck strained with rage. Harry and Draco both began to laugh in the middle of their kiss, and parted.
"What was that all about?" asked Harry, following Boot with his gaze.
"Oh, just one letter," Draco shrugged, searching for a lighter for a cinnamon cigarette.
Harry helped him with a neatly targeted 'Incendio' and smiled. "A letter?"
"Boot once wrote me a love-letter, can you imagine?"
"Did he really?" Harry was extremely hilarious. "What did he say?"
"Oh, something so repulsive I don't want to remember. I hate men who whine of their loveliness in corny, self-pitying poems."
Harry giggled. "I never knew Boot was so much in love with you."
Green eyes met the grey ones, both of them being animated with abnormal approval of each other. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol. In any case, their unnaturally easy conversation came to a sudden end when a howl of the most horrible kind flooded in the dungeon room, piercing their brains.
"The Banshee girl!" Harry drew a scared breath. "Somebody's trying to intrude in here!"
Draco tasted his cigarette and slowly began to push Harry away from his lap. "I rather expected something like this would happen," he said with his typical drawl. "No panic, Potter. Come here."
Malfoy hauled himself up and took Potter from the arm. He led the way towards the dungeon's huge grate, where an azure fire was sinisterly flaming. On the mantelpiece, there was a sharp and shining, stunningly beautiful sabre, lying gorgeously in its rack. The hilt was forged of antique silver, tiny diamonds embed in it, making the handle look like a starry sky. The razor-sharp blade shone in platinum, its deadly edge reflecting the blue firelight. It was the most beautiful item Harry had seen in his life.
"I brought this down here tonight," Draco explained. "I made a portkey of it."
Harry could distinguish the words 'Draco Lucius Malfoy' engraved in the blade's smooth surface.
"A portkey that leads us where?" Harry asked. He nervously glanced over his shoulder at the direction of the entrance. He saw the other celebrators gradually disappearing as well, probably with the help of their own portkeys.
"You'll see soon enough," Draco sighed impatiently and pulled Harry closer. Then he grabbed the curved sword.
Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling of the world disappearing from around him. The last thing he saw of the dungeon was the head of Argus Filch penetrating trough the sliced painting of the Banshee. Next moment, Harry was trying to gain his balance on a dewy grass field, gentle wind chilling his burning cheeks.
"Did you see him, Malfoy? Our saucy drop-in was Filch!"
Draco swung the long sabre gracefully trough the air and smiled. "Of course it was Filch. Who else would be dense enough to saunter along the Slytherin aisles at one o'clock in the morning?"
"Well, Snape maybe?" Harry suggested.
Draco elegantly shook his head, his silvery hair falling in front of his eyes still sticky with the liquor. "Snape covered this party up for us."
"Imagine that," Harry sighed, actually unsurprised. Of course Snape would do something like that for his own students.
However, Harry forgot all about Argus Filch and Severus Snape when he looked at Draco and saw how the pale moonlight outlined the boy's body with an angelic halo. He adored the lights and shadows playing over Draco's bare chest with misty eyes. Malfoy is dead sexy, there's no denying that. Why oh why did he have to grow up so twisted?
Then Harry thought about Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, who he had met one too many times. Of course it's his family. Actually, Draco is just like his father, only so pretty. The poisonous hate towards the world is always present in his eyes. Not once I have seen his wards shatter down, not even with Crabbe and Goyle. He's really succeeded to block his emotions, to hide his weaknesses from everybody. Even from himself, I guess. Harry bit his lower lip. Then again, that distant coolness makes him even more attractive…
"Earth calling Potter," Draco's chaffy voice declared. "Don't stare at me that way."
"Eh… Sorry. Where are we?" Harry asked, awakening from his musings. He studied the nightly landscape and discerned some dark forest all around the glade where he and Malfoy were standing.
"Not far away," Draco replied. "This is the same dratted meadow where you fouled that Hungarian Horntail two years ago."
Indeed it was. The first task of the Triwizard Tournament had been carried out in here. Except now the huge stands were missing, as were the dragons -if not counted Malfoy, of course. Everything was now replaced by the dark shadows of the night. Harry went for a little stroll, living some wild moments of his past again in his mind. When he returned to Malfoy, the boy was lying on the ground, gazing dreamily at the full, white sphere in the sky.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, settling next to him.
"It's the moon," Draco said nostalgically. "I'm drunk with the moon."
"You're drunk with the booze, Malfoy, and nothing else," Harry grinned. "Don't fucking start poetic. It doesn't suit you at all."
"Excuse me," Draco protested, pretending to be offended. "Poetry happens to suit me more than well. Just look at me! I am the famous Silver Prince of Slytherin, the most charming man in the magical world, the handsome, eye-catching new follower of the dark wizardry, so how can I not be poetic?"
Harry frowned at him. "How can you be proud of something like, say, becoming a dark wizard in future?"
"I can be proud of anything that concerns me," Draco easily answered, plucking the damp grass with his left hand. "Besides, it is the path made ready for me. I have all the right connections, all the right knowledge and training, and wealth. Not forgetting the unshakable fear I raise in my servants and fellow students already now."
"I don't fear you, Malfoy," Harry laughed scornfully. "You couldn't possibly upset me anyhow. Don't forget that I've already fought Voldemort four times. So you can stop that boasting right now."
"You are sometimes so annoying, did you know that?" Draco complained, tugging a handful of grass under Harry's tight chemise.
Harry pulled a face when the slippery weeds touched his skin. "You undeserving, ill-natured son of a…"
Draco tried to spring up and escape Harry's revengeful clutch, but failed. Harry held him by the shoulders and pulled him back down. He locked Malfoy under his own weight, holding the boy's arms firmly against the moist ground.
"One day you'll be sorry that you chose Voldemort over me, Malfoy."
"I doubt that very much, Potter," Draco revealed his corner teeth. "I won't fuck away my beliefs. Not even with you."
Harry's smile was oddly possessive, with a dangerous shade. "You'll change your mind. I promise you."
He forced Malfoy into a ravenous kiss. He wanted to make the Slytherin boy defenceless, for one time in his life. Therefore, his kiss was bruising. He enhanced the effect by biting Malfoy's lips hard enough to make him moan with pain. Or pleasure. Or both.
Harry's kiss was so overpowering that Draco began to shudder, despite himself. He had this little trace of masochism in him, so he didn't mind the pain, on the contrary. And the second time that night, he felt how domineering Potter could be.
You would never know when you look at him… He's the Gryffindor Golden Boy, so goody-goody with Dumbledore, so obeying and meek towards everybody. Wonder what Weasel and Mud-Blood might think about their precious Harry if they saw him now. Awww…. Draco moaned out loud when Harry proceeded to bite his neck. Alright. Even if I have the mental upper hand, he definitely wins on the physical side.
Harry released Draco's hands when he began to rip off the boy's damp-gone shirt. Instantly, Draco thrust his fingers across Harry's hair, pulling his head backwards and making Harry move aside.
"We will see who changes whose mind, Potter…" Draco mumbled seductively, abruptly sliding his hand in Harry's trousers, finding easily what he wanted.
Harry's body stiffened in panic. "W-what are you doing?"
Draco looked at Harry's infinite green eyes half amazed. "I'm going to fuck you, that's what I'm doing."
"Oh… Of course…"
Draco squeezed his hand around something in Harry's pants, and Harry's eyes flew wide. "Eh… Not so hastily, Malfoy…"
There was such a helpless gleam in Potter's eyes that Draco instantly drew apart. He moved his hands over Harry's shoulder blades, and Harry sighed with relief.
"You haven't done it before? Not even with Brown?"
Harry flushed and tore away from Malfoy, being angry. "I've done it once, alright. But it wasn't with Lavender."
"Really? Who was it, then?" Draco was genuinely interested.
"I don't want to say."
"Please!" Draco imitated Lavender's usual pleading tone and grinned.
"No! I won't tell you! Besides, it wasn't that good. Actually, it was horrible."
Draco seemed to die with curiosity. "Aw, come on, Potter! I promise I won't tell anybody!"
"Like I would trust you! Rita Skeeter would be the first one to know!"
"I will never fuck you if you don't tell me," Draco threatened.
"Fine. And I won't fuck you," Harry replied, turning Draco his back.
Draco sulked.
Harry was morose and stubborn.
"Fine," Draco finally decided, giving a surrendering sigh. "Come here, Potter. Let's take it slowly. And you can keep your fucking mouth shut."
Harry smiled. "I thought that was the Code of Conduct, anyway…"
Draco kept his word. He made it slowly. He undressed Harry leisurely between his caresses, enjoying the trembles he set running along the dark-haired boy's spine. He adored Harry's soft skin that was several hues darker than his own. The lines of Harry's sporty body felt nice under the touch, and Draco was especially heated every time he touched a particularly tentative spot, making Harry's muscles tense.
He teased Harry for so long with gentle tickles that Harry was dying with frustration in the end.
Potter was indeed heavily turned on. He had never experienced anything so ecstatic than Draco's warm touches on his skin, enclosed by the cool night-time air. He lied on the grass mattress, letting Malfoy do what ever he wanted with him. It was not like he wasn't keeping an eye on the Slytherin; he still didn't trust Draco at all, and was watchful. But he was not fighting either, and fully enjoyed the pleasure he got from the demanding strokes.
He gained back his self-control little by little, and finally rolled over Malfoy, tugging Draco's high-quality trousers down. Draco didn't say a word, only stared in Harry's eyes silently. Harry was once again happy that he had taken the glasses away, being now able to press his forehead against Malfoy's without anything coming in the way.
He penetrated silently, pulling Draco's hair when doing so, making the boy wince a little. He was both shaken and rapturous of what he was doing, not completely even understanding the situation. He was drunk, and so was Malfoy. Neither of them was acting normally that night. Harry looked admirably at Draco, who hadn't received any preparations whatsoever from him. He doesn't complain. He doesn't complain, although I know this must hurt him. Harry observed Draco's every expression while making love to him. He keeps his eyes closed, so that I could not read his mind. Clever bitch…
"Look at me, Malfoy," Harry commanded.
Draco opened his beautiful eyes. The moon reflected from them, making him look oddly fragile. Harry kissed him carefully. This is something I could never get from Lavender or anybody else… Oh, Lord, he feels so good…
A lonely owl fluttered across the meadow. Forceful gusts of wind ruffled over the treetops, bringing the fresh scents of the new morning along. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were lying in each other's arms on the ground, trying to gather their thoughts together. They could see each other perfectly under the bright moonlight, their intertwined bodies veiled with milky tan of the moon. Harry had nestled his face in Draco's hair, attempting to calm down his heart that was bumping too rapidly. Draco instead was breathing evenly by now, looking hazily at the stars above.
"Why did you prefer this place for a portkey?" Harry whispered in Draco's ear, tiredly.
"I come here often to calm down," Draco said, a little smile dancing on his lips. Yes, I come here to calm down. And practise wandless Dark Arts. This place is safe since nobody ever comes here.
Draco picked up the platinum sabre that was lying next to him. He looked at his reflection from the blade. It was beautiful. Then he turned the blade so that he could see Harry's image trough it. It was beautiful, too. Out of the blue he got the urge to press his hand against Harry's chest. His fingers formed a little cage right above the heart.
"This is mine, Harry," he whispered.
Harry had been nearly asleep. Now he woke up in a jolt, feeling a strangling emotion in his throat. What did Malfoy just say? That had to be a delusion… That really didn't happen…
"This is mine," Draco repeated, now looking insistently in Harry's eyes.
Harry shivered. He wanted to say something, but the words didn't want to come out of his mouth. He only felt how Draco pressed his fingers as deep in his flesh as possible, and closed his fist, painfully scratching Harry's skin. As if taking his heart out. This must be one hell of a delusion… My dream…
"No! Give it back, Malfoy," Harry heard his own voice heatedly whisper.
"I don't think so," Draco's said, laughing meanly and pouring bittersweet salt in the open wound in Harry's chest. "I really don't think so."
Harry felt dizzy. He rolled on his stomach, looking at the fresh, shiny green grass.
And he fell. Fell trough the absorbing greenness of the meadow.
…TBC…
A/N: Okay, please don't crush me too badly, this was the first time I wrote anything like this. You can tell me what was wrong, that's alright, but please do it in a gentle way…