Imaginectarine II
By My Cat Frank
Summary: This follows what happens after Harry's experience with the imaginectarines in Part I. Read the first part before proceeding on to this one, or else you may find yourself severely confused.
Disclaimer: I'm still waiting for J. K. Rowling to get back to me on this whole "permission" business, but so far, no response. Has anyone else heard from her? Is she all right? Should someone file a Missing Persons report?
Warnings: Smutty slash, a.k.a. slashy smut. Kids, don't try this at home without parental supervision. Wait a minute...Ew! Who would want their parents to watch? Kids, never tell your parents all the gritty details of your sex lives if you can at all avoid it. And parents, stop prying into your horny children's Harry Potter gay porno collections, before you find yourselves scarred for life. Trust me—the world will be a much better place for everyone.
Note: Thanks to all who have read the first part. Special thanks to go Angelle, Lord Percy Percy, Pretty Racing, Istanbul, javajunkee, AnnaBanana, daydreamer, Jannet, and Joanna for leaving those spiffy reviews that helped get me off my duff and back to writing! It's taken me much longer to get back to this than I expected (blame real life), but I do appreciate any and all feedback because it helps get my muses working again. Soooo, the moral of this story is to please REVIEW!
And without further ado…
About a week after Harry sent the letter to Fred and George, he finally heard back from them:
Harry,
We checked our inventory and figure we must have sent you four imaginectarines. Fred says that would be one for you, and then one each for your family—should you need to "influence" them.
The effects typically last about 6-8 hours, but someone who's under its spell can be fooled about the passage of time and space. When Fred tried it he said he thought Mum was a fish and went to put her back in the pond in the morning, but he never left our bedroom. Had a good time with your fruit, did you?
Now that we're no longer at Hogwarts, it'll be up to you and Ron to wreak havoc upon the school. Make sure he doesn't turn into another Percy, will you?
George
Harry had two imaginectarines left. He remembered eating the first one, but then in his altered state of mind he thought he had eaten another, and sent another one with a love note to none other than Draco Malfoy. He sincerely hoped that he had eaten the second one in reality, and not sent it to his arch-rival. How would he ever face Malfoy again if he had?
What he did know for certain was that he had no desire to eat the other two imaginectarines, afraid of what embarrassment he might incur while in a second state of altered consciousness. At a loss for any good reason to hang onto the tainted fruit, he gave one each to Uncle Vernon and Dudley one evening when his Aunt Petunia was out of town. The results were surprisingly negligible: apparently whatever potion the Weasley twins had used to make the fruit hallucinogenic had no effect on muggles. Vernon and Dudley suffered no reactions whatsoever.
"What are you staring at?" Vernon barked at Harry, when he caught the young wizard watching him intently.
"Nothing, I guess," Harry replied, and snuck away to his room to write to Fred and George about these results.
Although Ron had heard about the incident from Fred and George, Harry never told him exactly what he had imagined. Hermione never heard anything at all about it, and Harry felt no need to tell her.
And so when the three of them were riding the Hogwarts Express back to school on the first of September, Ron and Hermione had no idea what Draco Malfoy would want with them as he threw open the compartment door and barreled inside.
"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. "Don't you ever knock?"
"Of course not. Malfoys never knock," Draco sneered, before turning his deadly gaze onto Harry. "Potter," he spat, and pulled a sheet of parchment out of his pocket. "I demand that you tell me what you meant by this."
He thrust the parchment in Harry's face, and to Harry's horror he recognized it as the note he had hoped he hadn't really written. "Is this your idea of a joke, Potter? Did you, Weasel, and the Mudblood all have a good laugh over it? Well, you can just think again, because I'm not going to sit back and be the patsy for whatever little games you three are playing."
"Have you totally gone nutters?" Ron retorted. "Why would any of us ever want to have anything to do with you, anyway?"
Hermione reached out for the parchment. "Let's see what it is, then," she said, but Harry swiftly blocked her outstretched hand in order to grab it first. Unfortunately, Draco was faster than either of them and pulled it out of reach.
"Allow me," he said, clearing his throat, and Harry could only sit there, ashen-faced, as Draco proceeded to read the letter. The words sounded so much worse when pronounced by Draco's harsh, biting drawl.
"'Draco,'" he began acerbically, "'Remember the vision you had last night? Eat this imaginectarine and we can experience another one together. I'm looking forward to it. Love, Harry,'" he finished, putting special emphasis on the last two words.
"'Love, Harry'?" Ron repeated incredulously.
"I was under the influence of the imaginectarine at the time," Harry admitted, hiding his face in his hands.
"Harry, you didn't!" Hermione gasped. "But those are hallucinogenic! What were you thinking?!"
"Hallucinogenic?" Draco asked, intrigued. "Do you mean to say that Potter was on drugs?" He turned back to Harry with a note of surprise. "You offered me drugs, Potter?"
Harry looked like his world had collapsed. "You—you didn't eat it, did you?"
Draco let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh. "Right, Potter, because when my worst enemy sends me a cryptic note and food of indeterminable quality, my first instinct is to tuck in and eat it." He reached into his other pocket and pulled out the last remaining imaginectarine—whole, and uneaten. "For all I know, it could be full of razor blades," he added.
"Only you would stoop to a dirty trick like that, Malfoy," Ron muttered.
Draco ignored him. "So what does it do, anyway?" he asked Harry.
With a sigh, Harry explained the nature of the imaginectarine to Draco, in whose mind wheels seemed to be turning as he took in the information.
"But Harry," Ron protested, "why would you want to send a letter to him," he jerked his head towards Draco, "and share an imaginectarine experience together?"
Draco smirked. Harry's face turned from ashen-white to beet-red in approximately 2.5 seconds. Hermione said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes as her eyes popped and she dramatically covered her mouth with both hands, evidently thinking up a few hypotheses of her own.
"Er—well—"
What I want to know—" interjected Draco, who re-pocketed the fruit and gracefully slid into the seat next to Harry. There was a sensual sort of seductive quality to his movements as he slunk sideways in a catlike manner and rested his elbow on the back of the seat, but his face was devoid of all signs of amusement. He fixed Harry with a cold, threatening glare. "I want to know what you meant when you said I had a vision, Potter."
Harry wrung his hands, desperately wishing he did not have to be in this situation, but now that he was there, he knew he had no escape: he had pulled Draco into this mess, and now the Slytherin—loathe Harry was to admit it—deserved an explanation.
"I—er—okay. It was like this...see..." Draco stared at him coldly. "I was imagining things, right—because of the imaginectarine, of course—and I imagined that...well, I was in your room, and I...sortofsawyouhaveavisionofsomething."
Draco raised an eyebrow, but before he could control his expression a tiny twitch had flickered across his features. "A vision?" he scoffed. "So what would that ever have to do with me?" he retorted nonchalantly.
"It was pleasant," Harry answered quietly. Draco stared at him for a moment, and then his cheeks turned a soft glowing pink. He frowned and stood up, backing toward the door and glaring icicles at Harry.
"Leave me out of your sick fantasies, Potter." With a slam, he was out the door.
After that, Harry had had to confess everything to Ron and Hermione—minus the sex, which he figured they didn't need to know. He was surprised to find that they were both supportive and understanding.
"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Hermione explained once again as she saw Harry wasn't eating at the welcoming feast. "The imaginectarine must have triggered some subconscious desires that you may not have known that you had, and if so, there's nothing you could have done about them. You can't help what you like, and the drug would have suppressed your inhibitions so you could be free to enjoy yourself for once. It doesn't matter what he's like in real life—you could have imagined him any way you want to, because it was fantasy."
"Right, what she said," Ron added between a mouthful of au gratin potatoes. "Oh, cheer up, Harry, and eat some chicken and ham pie—it's your favorite! Besides, it's not like you have to like the guy in real life you know, because he's still the scum of the univer—"
"But he is cute," Hermione tacked on, elbowing Ron in the side.
"Cute?!"
"Well, excuse me, Ron, for being a warm-blooded heterosexual female who has the ability to notice when a man is good-looking."
"Oh, so now you admit to lusting after Malfoy!"
"Don't be silly, Ron—"
"You're planning on stealing Harry's man!"
Harry shook his head and tuned out the rest of his friends' argument with a put-upon sigh. His gaze traveled across the Great Hall and fell upon Draco's. The other boy was staring at him, a hard icy glare radiating from pale silver eyes.
Harry didn't have the heart to glare back at him for very long, and pulled his eyes away tiredly. Soon Hermione was leading all the Gryffindors up to their dorms, and Harry followed along resolutely, avoiding the procession of the Slytherins as they parted ways on the stairs.
The week flew by as classes began and life at Hogwarts became busier. Harry expected to find half the school jeering at him again—not because of anything to do with his scar or Voldemort, but because of what he had been forced to tell Malfoy about the imaginectarines. Surprisingly, however, the blond had kept the matter to himself, and not a single Slytherin had had anything scathing to say to Harry about fruit.
Given this relative quietude, it had to be a coincidence that the house-elves had been serving nectarines at every meal that week. Harry had avoided them completely, looking ill if anyone passed the fruit bowl his way. Finally on a Friday night, Ron dumped a nectarine in front of him at dinner.
"Come on, Harry," Ron said, eyeing his friend with a note of concern. "Have some hair of the dog that bit you."
"Why should I?" Harry asked, looking at him suspiciously.
"Because you can't avoid fruit forever! It's good for you!" Ron threw his hands in the air.
Harry laughed. "You're starting to sound like your mother."
Ron's face reddened. "I am not!" His bottom lip faintly pulled up into a pout. "Besides," he continued, "every time you turn down a piece of fruit, that git across the hall—" he jerked his thumb toward where Malfoy was sitting—"looks like you've just made his day. It's time you show him, Harry." Ron pushed the nectarine closer to him. "Show him you're bigger than that. Show him it doesn't bother you anymore."
Harry looked at his best friend and slowly nodded, realizing Ron was right. Slowly, he picked up the nectarine, stared at it for a moment, then finally took a bite. He looked across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy watching them. He took another bite, chewing defiantly as he stared back at his nemesis. As he finished the fruit, he saw Malfoy turn his lips upwards into a devious smile.
After dinner Ron and Hermione set off by themselves for some "personal time," so Harry decided that rather than hanging around the other Gryffindors in the common room he wanted to take a walk by himself instead. He wandered around the corridors for a while, but then as he caught a glimpse through the window on the west side of the castle he decided to watch the sunset. A few minutes later he was sitting on the window ledge of an empty classroom, watching the sun set over the horizon and enjoying being away from the bustle of other students. His mind drifted lazily into sleepiness as he gazed at the colors in the sky and watched as they faded from bright orange into fiery red, and then from reddish-purple into blue. The colors blended into each other, glowing against the clouds and reminding him of colors he had seen before. In his tired mind they looked just like—
"—Like the colors in a nectarine," a voice interjected from behind, seeming to read his thoughts.
Harry turned his head abruptly toward the sound, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark dusk that had settled over the unused classroom. He could barely make out the profile of a wizard as he slowly approached the window ledge where Harry was sitting. He stepped into the sunbeam, and his pale blond features were colored with shades of pink and peach.
"Malfoy," he breathed. He quickly stopped himself from the train of thought that was focused on how gorgeous the other boy looked in the setting sunlight, and hardened his expression into that of 'Harry Potter, Force Not To Be Reckoned With.' He stood up and faced him.
"Did you seek me out so that you could have a bit of fun with me, Malfoy?" Harry asked coldly, then inwardly cursed himself for his choice of words.
Draco chuckled. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't," he answered enigmatically. He unhooked the clasp of his robe and slid it from his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a graceful pool of expensive fabric, exposing his shirt, tie and pants.
Harry was unable to pull his eyes away from the unexpected spectacle of Draco disrobing himself. He gulped, but did not blink.
"You see, Potter," Draco began, untying his necktie as he spoke, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. "You can't be one hundred percent certain of exactly what is really happening right now. Eating that nectarine at dinner tonight was a mistake. You knew that I had in my possession one of your so-called imaginectarines. For all you know, I could have snuck into the kitchens before dinner and planted it among the regular fruit at the Gryffindor table, in the hope that you would eat it by accident." He slipped the tie from around his neck and dropped it on top of his robe.
Harry stood frozen as Draco approached him at the window, his neck delightfully more exposed, his blond hair pink in the dimming sunset. He also thought that the blond's cheeks might have been a deeper shade of pink—from the sunset, of course.
Soon Draco was standing only a few inches away from Harry. Harry could literally feel Draco draw in a breath before he continued to speak. "When you said you saw me have a vision this summer, you were right," he breathed. "I saw you. You were in a small muggle room, wanking off to a magazine and calling my name." His eyes softened, their usual icy bitterness replaced with something warmer and darker—something lustful that trapped Harry into their gaze and prevented him from backing away. "And then I was there and we were on your bed. So when you said you saw me having a vision of something pleasant, I was having a vision about us."
"But Malfoy, if you really did have a vision, that doesn't explain why you would want to give me another imaginectarine," Harry wondered out loud.
Draco's eyes cleared into a piercing glare. "Potter, you're in no state to think logically right now," he retorted. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and held him firmly. "I just want you to understand one thing, Potter. None of this is really happening right now. This is just another one of your drug-induced hallucinations."
Harry was going to respond to this statement, but he was silenced by the look on Draco's face. The other boy stared at him as if he was fighting an internal battle. His mouth screwed up into a tight line and a crease formed between his eyebrows. Then, just as a determined glint reached his grey eyes, he lunged forward, lips first, and attacked Harry by the mouth. A hand wrapped around the back of Harry's head to keep him from pulling away.
At first all Harry felt was shock, as he realized that Draco was kissing the life out of him. Draco's lips were stiff and made Harry think he was inexperienced—or nervous. But after a moment passed by where Harry did not shove him away, he relaxed and softly opened his mouth, sending a warm tremor down Harry's spine. Harry's eyes drifted shut and he melted into the kiss, darting his tongue forth to duel with Draco's. He wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist and pulled their bodies together, which Draco rewarded with a surprised moan. Hands roamed through hair and across backs, all questions in Harry's mind forgotten.
Harry was really starting to get into the kiss when Draco suddenly pulled away. They both panted breathlessly as they stared at each other in awe. Harry wasn't really sure that his previous imaginectarine experiences had felt quite this real. He could feel the warmth of Draco's waist beneath his fingertips through the thin fabric of blond's shirt; he could feel the hot, moist breath of the other boy as Draco stood only inches away from him; he felt the tickling of Draco's thin, delicate fingers as they slowly untied the knot in his necktie. The blond's fingers seemed to be trembling as they hesitantly removed Harry's tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Draco looked up into Harry's eyes, his face flush pink in the setting sun. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to push him away, but when Harry didn't, he nervously slipped his fingers underneath the shirt and lightly touched skin. Harry exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Draco's fingers moved slowly across Harry's chest, leaving trails of tingling flesh in their wake. Draco looked up at Harry's face again, watching the other boy's reaction as Harry breathed slowly, shallowly, unable to do little more than hold on to Draco's waist for support. Draco seemed mesmerized by Harry's reaction to such light touches, fascinated by the effect they were having.
After a maddeningly-long minute Draco lowered his head and bit into the flesh of Harry's chest, causing Harry to gasp sharply. Draco licked at the teeth marks, tasting skin. He brushed his thumb over a nipple before lowering his mouth again to worry it with his lips, sucking lightly, biting it teasingly until a fire seemed to burn deep inside Harry.
He pulled Draco back up for another kiss, this one hungrier and more demanding. His fingers sought the buttons on Draco's shirt and practically ripped them off, frantically trying to remove the garment. His hands grasped around Draco's now-bare waist, wondering at the feel of real skin against skin. He slipped a leg between the other boy's and bucked his hips, making the blond groan into his mouth as the friction rubbed in just the right place. Harry could feel Draco's hardness against his thigh as his tongue plunged deeper, wanting so much more.
Draco's fingers had clenched into Harry's sides, just trying to hold on under the assault that had gone further than he seemed to be ready for. As if he was trying to resume control, he ripped off Harry's shirt. When their chests met he gasped, letting go of Harry's mouth and breathing roughly. The want in his eyes matched the lust clouding Harry's as they ground against each other, almost daring one another to take the next step.
Draco steered Harry backwards until he bumped against a desk. When Harry could not go back any farther Draco lowered his hands to the front of Harry's trousers and rubbed his finger down the length of his hardness. Harry yelped and gripped the sides of the desk, afraid to do anything that might discourage the Slytherin from doing whatever he had planned.
As if reading this signal, Draco cautiously unbuttoned the trousers and lowered them, taking a pair of white briefs down with them. Harry bit his lip as a cool breeze graced his exposed groin, choking on a whimper as those delicate pale fingers lightly trailed down a path of hair that led from his stomach downwards, until they wrapped around his arousal. He held his breath as he looked at Draco's face. The other boy appeared to be studying it, fingering it tenderly as if it might disappear in a cloud of smoke. It was driving him crazy.
Then Draco lowered his head, and licked the small drop of precum that leaked from the end. Harry held his breath the entire time, watching the action as if he was unsure whether to believe it was really happening. That's when he remembered that this was all a result of eating the imaginectarine, and he let himself go, releasing a deep, loud moan. Draco seemed to take this as encouragement and took in more of Harry, one hand wrapped around to the cleft in his backside and the other cupping him underneath.
Harry buried his fingers in the soft fair hair and pushed the head forward to take in more of him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have heard Draco gag slightly. The other boy made up for it by wrapping a hand around his base, and soon Harry was drifting away in bliss. A thin sheen of sweat covered his body. After a while he realized this was not enough. He needed more.
He pulled Draco up by the hair and plunged his tongue into the other boy's mouth voraciously. When the pulled apart he said, panting, "I need more…"
Draco's eyes widened as he panted, too out of breath to say anything. Harry lowered his hands and began to undo the buttons on the Slytherin's trousers. His fingers grazed through the pale blond hair beneath black silk boxers and wrapped around the erection there, caressing it up and down with his thumb. Draco leaned heavily onto Harry's shoulders and buried his face in that warm, musky neck, his breath coming out in broken staccato gasps that tickled Harry's skin and drove him even crazier.
"I want you," Harry spoke softly into the pale ear by his cheek, "I want you…inside me…"
The pale head nodded and Harry pushed him upright, removing his pants completely and turning around to bend over the desk. This was all an illusion, so he could give himself fully without fear of what Malfoy might say to him in the future. Behind him, he could hear the other boy's trousers hit the floor. A hand came up behind him and caressed one of his cheeks. Harry moaned unreservedly in anticipation.
Then the caressing slowed to a halt, stopping on his rear. Harry gripped his fingers around the other end of the desk. He could hear Draco remove the cap to a bottle and waited for the inevitable feeling of lubrication on his skin.
A minute passed when nothing happened. Harry hadn't expected this. He turned to look over his shoulder and was surprised to see Draco holding the bottle up to the dimming light and squinting at the instructions written on its side.
He groaned in frustration. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Just put some on your fingers, wiggle them up inside, smear some on your cock and RAM IT IN!"
Draco jumped at the outburst, but then he recovered enough to sneer at the Gryffindor. "I knew that, Potter," he snapped.
A second later, Draco had smeared the lubrication on his fingers and penetrated Harry's entrance. Harry sighed, surrendering to the feeling of those long, pale fingers reaching him from the inside. Soon after the sensation was replaced with the hot, wide feeling of arousal as it pushed against him, straining against the tight ring at the opening and sliding in, slick from the lubrication. Time seemed to stand still as they both adjusted to the new feeling, Draco holding onto Harry's hips and Harry gripping the desktop for support. Slowly the blond began to push in and out, Harry pushing back to meet him and gasping whenever Draco hit that soft spongy wonderful center inside of him.
Harry was only dimly aware of the reality outside this spectacular focal point of his attention, but in the background of his senses he could feel the hot, silky touch of Draco's thighs as they brushed against his own, the silvery glow of the moonlight in the now-darkened room, the faint scuffling noises of the desk legs as they scraped across the floor mingling with the ragged gasps coming from both of them. He could smell the scent of sex in the air and taste Draco, still hot on his tongue. Draco reached around to cup his erection and a tremor ran through his entire body. The universe was collapsing around them into this one surreal, solitary act of unity, yet nothing had ever felt more real to Harry.
After an eternity Draco pushed one last time, burying himself inside Harry's core and exploding with a deafening groan. Harry was pushed over the edge, losing all track of himself as stars danced before his eyes. The two rocked together, riding out the waves until they came back down to reality.
Harry turned around and pulled Draco into a soft, gentle kiss, feeling completely sated and serene. The blond practically sang into his mouth, fingers running through a tangled mess of black hair with worshipful adoration. When they finally pulled apart, the Slytherin slowly fluttered his eyes open and looked into Harry's mossy gaze. In that quiet moment there was no animosity between them, only the soft, gentle breathing as their hearts slowed back to a normal pace.
Draco blinked, and suddenly seemed to remember himself. "P-Potter," he said, removing his arms from around Harry's neck where they had rested. He backed away, and he fumbled to put his clothes back on. "Remember, there's no use mentioning this to anyone, because it was just your imagination. That's what you get for eating hallucinogenic fruit."
Harry watched him dress silently, but stopped him before he could leave. "Malfoy," he called out when the blond's hand was on the doorknob, "do you think I might hallucinate again tomorrow night?"
Draco stopped and looked at him. The Boy Who Lived was still leaning shamelessly against the desk in the darkened room, wearing his glasses and nothing else but what he was born with. The Slytherin's lips curled up into a wide, genuine smile, his eyes bright like diamonds. "Maybe you will, Potter, maybe you will."
With that, he slipped out the door. Harry grinned as he put his clothes back on. Yes, he decided, imaginectarines are really good for you after all.
The End
Whaaaaa, what do you think? My beta believes that Harry has hallucinated himself into insanity. I'm curious to find out how you readers interpret this story. Did any of this really happen? Nods to anyone who picked up on the subtle Faulker reference at the beginning. Thanks everyone for reading my fic! Now, please make my day and leave a review!
--MCF