The Dreams of Reality
Co-Authors: Jelisee and Obscene Maureen
Chapter 4: The "M" word...MARGARITAS!
Harry didn't stop running until he reached the Gryffindor tower. He sank back onto the wall behind him, panting.
That did not happen, he thought to himself. No fucking WAY did that happen. He did NOT just get a boner when he was wrestling with Malfoy…that's just WRONG, and in many more ways than one.
"Well?" A female voice asked.
Harry jumped, and glanced up, relieved to find out that the speaker was just the Fat Lady.
"Well?" She asked again.
"Well what?"
"Are you going to give me the password or not?" She asked, irritated. "Look, I'm not going to stay here and wait patiently, for whenever you're ready. If you don't want to come inside, I won't just stay around, waiting for you to—"
"Okay, okay." Harry grumbled. "The password is Marigold Maiden."
Satisfied with the answer, the Fat Lady swung the portrait open, and Harry climbed inside, and went straight to the 6th year's boy's dormitory.
Inside, Harry began to rationalize with himself as he paced back and forth across the room.
I must be under a spell, Harry thought. Either that, or I'm going fucking crazy. But then again those eyes--WAIT...NO NO NO, STOP RIGHT THERE HARRY. Were you just admiring his EYES?!
Then Harry had congured up the image of Draco. His blond hair, pale skin, and most hypnotizing silver-gray eyes. It had become too much for Harry to bear.
Though every fiber in Harry's being was yelling at him to have some self-control, he just couldn't do it. He felt his groin burn with an all-too-familiar sensation.
Hornyness.
When Harry reached his bed he closed the curtains and did a locking spell on the drapes. He definitely didn't want to be caught in that particular situation. He pressed his lips together as his heart beat quickly—obviously he jacked off before, but never thinking about a specific person.
Harry quickly kicked off his shoes, and lifted his robe up over his waist. He pulled out his tackle, and remembered a piece of advice Ron once gave him, 2 years ago.
"Hey, if you use your left hand, it feels like somebody else." Ron had whispered during one boring day of History of Magic.
"Huh?" Harry had replied.
"When you…you know…" Ron whispered.
"When I…what?"
"When you wank off, you prick. If you use your left hand, your thumb will be facing in the opposite direction, so it would feel like, 'omigod, it's someone else's right hand'!"
Harry and Ron had both burst into giggles.
Oddly, Harry forgot about that event until just a minute ago. He then glanced at both of his hands, and then down at his tackle.
It feels like somebody else, eh?
The room was already dark—it was probably 8pm, and everyone else was having dinner. Harry imagined a dark form of Draco Malfoy lying next to him on the bed.
Gently, Harry stroked his member once, twice, three times with his left index finger, imagining that it was Draco Malfoy who did so. Harry felt his member get higher, and he gently rubbed the tip of his cock.
As his erection grew to the point it reached approximately a 120 degree angle, Harry made his left hand into a fist, and began to rub his hand up and down over his pecker.
Holy shit, it does feel like somebody else, Harry thought.
Harry began to pump his hand faster and faster, as he felt his erection grow longer and higher. With his eyes closed, he imagined Draco's slender, white fingers grip Harry's cock, as if Draco was really the one giving Harry that feeling of exhilaration.
Harry tilted his chin upwards, and looked at the ceiling while his fist kept pumping…up and down…up and down…
He gave a grunt when he finally came, and he opened his eyes as he saw his own seed pour out onto the bed sheets. Quickly, he did a cleaning spell, and the spills immediately disappeared.
That was also a lesson that George Weasley taught him, back when he was a third year.
"Harry, why are you spending so much time in the bathroom?" George had asked, 3 years ago.
"Oh, I was…um…just doing number two." Harry had lied, "Sorry it took so long."
George indicated him to lean forward, and then whispered in his ear, "You don't have to jack off in secret, you know. You can always close the drapes in your bedroom. As a wizard, you can use a cleaning spell." And Harry took his advice.
Masturbation was something that all boys did, it was like something they all acknowledged and would admit to. Among the girls, masturbation was a much more touchy subject that only Lavender would openly admit to doing. As for Hermione, her face would flush red and she'd dive further into a book when the "M word" was mentioned.
Harry then stretched on his bed and but his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
Strange, he mused, why am I so attracted to Malfoy? Er…Draco. Come to think of it, Draco was a great name. He could say it all day. Draco, Draco, Draco.
Draco.
Harry then bolted out of his bed. Shit, he left Draco in the Hospital Wing during detention!
Harry then dashed down the stairs of the boy's dormitory, and swung the portrait open. He ran down the steps of the Gryffindor tower as he heard the Fat Lady yell at him ("Come in and stay in if you want, but for crying out loud, stop moving back and forth!") and made a mad dash for the Hospital Wing.
Finally opening the door to the Hospital Wing and slamming it behind him, Harry leaned his back against the wall, gasping for breath. He then glanced around, and noticed something that made his mouth drop wide open.
There was Draco Malfoy standing at the sink. Wearing an apron. Up to his elbows in murky dish water.
Draco noticed him too, and said in an annoyed tone, "well, are you going to help me, or shall I tell Pomfrey that you refused to cooperate and left me to deal with this—rubbish—all by myself?"
"Sorry." Harry grunted, as he then walked up to Draco and took a long look at what Draco was doing. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm washing the bedpans." Draco said, indignantly.
Harry held up the bottle that Draco was using. "with Mrs. Marquez's Magical Margarita Mix? Draco, that's for drinks, not for washing things!"
Draco's pale face turned slightly pink, but he pretended not to be embarrassed. "How was I supposed to know that Madam Pomfrey kept margarita mix in the SINK CABINET?"
"Pomfrey's a drunkard, and you know it."
Draco chuckled, which made Harry a bit astonished. Well, Harry, what did you expect? Harry told himself; you made a joke, he laughed, and that's what happens when you remove a hate barrier from someone, you idiot.
"Here," Harry then said, "I'll help you." Harry bent down to look under the sink cabinet. If he had eyes at the back of his head, he would have noticed Draco Malfoy peering intently at his ass. But like most others, Harry did not have eyes at the back of his head, and straightened back up after he grabbed a bottle of real detergent.
"Now Draco, THIS is detergent." Harry smirked as he pointed to a bottle of Mystical Wands Washing Soap. "Ok so let's get to it…I guess." Harry said faintly.
"Whatever." Draco mumbled as he grabbed the detergent. He squirted it over the dirty bedpans, and both boys began to scrub.
They started out scrubbing in complete silence. Harry noticed something about Draco. Draco had an unusual look on his face—of normality. His face lacked the usual menace and growl, and Draco looked somewhat…human? Strange—I wonder what changed Draco, Harry thought. Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Draco then spoke.
"Since when did you start calling me Draco?" He asked.
"Huh? Oh—since now, I guess."
"Why?"
"I don't know, to tell you the truth."
"Huh." Draco uttered, as Harry finished cleaning off the first bedpan, and started working on a second. "I think you started today, when you just came in."
Harry paused. "Oh yeah. Say—lets do this, I'll do the washing, you just have to get a towel and dry the clean bedpans."
"Okay," Draco said in a grateful tone. He opened the top cabinet and got out a towel, and started drying the wet bedpans. "So if you call me Draco, should I call you Harry?"
"Sure."
"Okay…I guess I will." Draco said. "Um…Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"What were we fighting about earlier, anyway?"
"I don't remember…I think I just got really mad, about what you said to Ron and Hermione. They're my best friends, after all."
"But like I said earlier today, I didn't insult you!"
"Maybe not, but I care about my friends." Harry then handed Draco another wet bedpan, which Draco started to dry in an almost mechanical motion.
"Why?"
"Why would I care about my friends?"
"No, why do you hang out with Weasel and the Mud…Weasley and Granger?" Draco said, catching himself quickly.
"Because they're my friends, and I value my friendship. Ron's a fun person, and he has a great personality. As for Hermione, she is intelligent and kind, and they're both the best friends I could ever ask for."
"Wow," was all Draco had to say to that. He's probably surprised, Harry told himself, he's still taking it all in.
Before long, all the bedpans were scrubbed and dried, and both Harry and Draco were leaving for their own separate headquarters.
"Harry?" Draco said.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Author's Note: Hello, this is Jelisee, and I hope you like the fanfic so far. Both Maureen and I had a great time writing it; Maureen is the queen of smut, she "couldn't wait!" for the "masturbation chapter". Yet it was funny how she couldn't write it...she's just being Maureen.
