Aww, I got reviews, yeay, thankies.So I'll put some notes about this fic, other than the character are not mine, etc. This is actually a little vehicle for a longer, novel-length one I'm still typing up, which seems to be everyone's favourite (I've posted it elsewhere).
Well, here starts the slashing, don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter 2:
It was potions class, and the potions master, Severus Snape, was nowhere to be seen fifteen minutes into the class. At the begining the students had sat silent, retient, knowing that this might be a ploy to get them to act up and have points taken away from their houses. But ten minutes into the bizarre charade, the students had broken out into groups with a small humming talk erupting between them.
"Maybe he messed about with a potion and turned himself into a chair," Ron Weasely said happily, leaning back on his own.
"Why a chair?" Harry Potter asked, amused.
Hermoine Granger looked at them disapprovingly. "Someone should go for a teacher. It isn't right that we're all sitting here nothing doing."
Across the room, Draco Malfoy sat, flanked between his two cronies Crabb and Goyle. Bored out of his mind, and midly annoyed at his godfather for going missing during his favourite class, Draco hunched over and listened in on the conversation between the three Gryffindor.
"Why don't you go for a teacher, mudblood?" Draco asked lazily, to the amusement of the rest of the Slytherin about the room. "Or are we too frightened that Professor Snape really is in the room?"
Ron Weasley turned as red as humanly possible. "Why don't you take a long walk on a short pier, Malfoy?" He hissed, pleased to use Hermoine's muggle phase.
"Oh, Weasel, stick to begging for alms and leave insults to intelligent people," Draco said, bored. Soon the classroom was silent, watching Ron try to sputter out a response. The Slytherin was hardly paying attention to him; it wasn't he Draco wanted a rise out of. As if on a cue, Harry stood up and approached the opposing table.
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, "Or I'll see to it you won't be able to open it for a week."
A general 'ooo' chorus erupted in the room. Draco stood up smoothly, easily, and opened his mouth widely. "Oh, have I upset the Boy Who Lived? Poor widdle Harry Potter, all alone with his dumb Gryffindor friends. Buy a comb Potter, and do a spell to get rid of those ridculous Muggle shards of glass over your eyes and maybe then we can talk."
Harry was livid, and when he was angry his eyes flashed a very bright green. Draco Malfoy tensed in anticipation. This was going to be a good fight, and both relished the idea secretly. Harry tried not to notice the enviable poise that the other boy had, easy and smooth, his white hair shining like a beacon of insolence. With their wands out, they approached each other, eyes locking sharply.
They stood, merely looking at each other with a visible anger which concealed a mutual fascination, until someone in the back of the room yelled, "Duel!" Everyone clamored for a place closest to watch the boys.
"You'll be sorry, Malfoy," Harry said confidently, not paying any attention to the sparkle in the other boy's gray eyes. He would not look at his mouth, the too red mouth, with its feminine lips. There was something about Malfoy's mouth that piqued Harry's curiosity . . .
"We'll see," Draco replied, amused at the way Harry ran his fingers through his hair and it stood even more on end. It was almost . . . endearing wasn't the word . . . Draco's mind snapped to attention sharply.
Just before either could speak a word, curse, or spell, Severus Snape rushed into the room, his cloak seeming miles behind him. "Sit down you two and put you wands away," he barked, without looking at either of them. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for goading a Slytherin into an argument."
"Professor--" A voice came from the back of the room. It was not a student protesting however, but Professor Dumbledore. A quiet, almost impercetable awe fell over the classroom.
Instantly, both Harry and Draco were worried, for it seemed as though Dumbledore was eyeing them. But no, the aging wizard was only viewing the pair with pity. For from what he had seen, the future would not be a kind mistress to either . . .
A Countryside English Cottage, Summer, 2006
"Close your eyes, Potter, or I'll have to tape them shut," Draco Malfoy said, putting his hands over the bright green ones as he spoke.
"It's not like I can see without my glasses on, Draco," he said peevishly, though he was excited about the surprise.
Draco Malfoy stood in front of the mirror looking silently at the pair of reflections which were presented to him. They had grown up so much, he thought nostalgically, from the two awkward boys who had met to kiss secretly underneath the quidditch bleachers. Harry was so much taller, he had a growth spurt during their last year, and years of training had left him with a muscular, toned appearance. It had also changed his face, the curves of boyhood were gone, his face had a sharper glow, his eyes were cautious, calculating. But there was no doubt that in spite of his habitual messy hair and clothing and glasses (or because of them, Draco could never decide), that Harry Potter was a very handsome man.
Draco's eyes flintered over his own reflection and amused, he removed a piece of lint from his black Armani sweater. Interesting how flattering Muggle clothing could be . . .
"Can't stop staring at your reflection for one moment, Malfoy?" Harry asked rhetorically, his mouth curving into a smile over Draco's hand.
"I was looking at you too, git," Draco responded simply.
Harry laughed outright. "Did you like what you saw?"
Draco moved his hands from Harry's eyes and spun him around. "I always like what I see in the mirror."
"Stuck up little--" Harry couldn't get any further with the insult before Draco's mouth had clasped possessively over his own. Draco had Harry's head in his hands and he brought his lips crushingly against his own. He always hesitated for an imperceptable second before relaxing against Draco's full, soft mouth. There was no doubt he was a good kisser, he was a bloody fabulous kisser, and Harry was flushed and breathless when Draco tipped back his head and found the soft crevice of his neck.
"Draco," he mumbled, trying to hold onto some semblance of control. "What about the surprise?"
"It can wait," he growled in response. They were against the wall, Harry could feel the raised pattern of the floral design against his back when Draco lifted up his t-shirt and it fell silently to the floor.
He felt Draco everywhere, it was as though he was consumed entirely in the blond, there was no definte borders between them, and this was precisely the way Harry liked it. For in these moments the past was all forgotten and there was just one thing and one giant need between them. The reaction was tight in his pants, a fit of vanity had made Harry choose a pair of tight trousers and now they were nearly as unbearable as Draco's crushing lips against his own.
"Gods," he finally breathed out, followed by an oath. "You're going to kill me one day, Malfoy, do you know that?"
The hazy vision of Draco, his lips curled up to a sardonic smile was somewhere in Harry fragmented mind. A hand stroked the considerable bulge against his pants and Harry moaned softly. "Someone's a bit aroused, isn't he?" Draco's voice said, almost mockingly, ignoring the hardness against his own jeans. "Well, well, Mr. Potter," he said lazily. "What are we going to do about that?"
"Don't fuck about, Draco," he said, moving the blond's torturous hand away from his crotch.
"I'm not," said the gray eyes, turning serious. "Birthday present. Whatever you want. One night only."
Harry jolted to attention at that. Whatever he was, Draco was not usually such generous in the bedroom. Often Harry had devised little ploys to drop the Slytherin into submission, and though both enjoyed them, Harry knew Draco would never admit to such a thing. His eyebrow rose curiously. "Are you serious, Malfoy?"
"Merlin, Potter," Draco said, attempting to be casual by admiring the nails on his long fingers. "I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to show me once and for all, as you call it."
Hands pushed Draco against the floor, harshly, but not without tenderness, for when he fell down, Harry was right there beside him. His hands quickly reached under and pulled the sweater of his head, and he brought his lips softly against the white trembling skin of his chest. Draco felt his chest suddendly aching terribly, as if every single one of Harry's feather-light kisses was like a hot knife entering his chest and yet and it was as though they were simultaneously healing the wound.
"You're beautiful, do you know that?" Harry said breathlessly, finally making his way up to Draco's face so that they were eye to eye. "And I hate to tell you, because you're full of yourself already as it is."
"Harry," Draco said, pulling his face down his own and brushing a latent kiss over his mouth, "please shut up, please."
"Oh, how the tables have turned," Harry said, manipulating Draco out of his pants and boxers as he spoke.
"Tell me you love me," Harry teased, a few moments later as Draco laid against the floor, his body pulsing in a static beat against the floor. When Draco didn't reply quickly enough, he teased his body again. It was a maddening game, and Harry didn't know how much longer he could hold on.
Draco moaned something incoherently and Harry rose above him so that his chest was against his back. Teasingly he grasped Draco and smiled as he gasped. "Don't be so tough, Draco," he said with a short, painful laugh, as his hands made their way about to cradle Draco's bottom. "Go on and say it."
"I bloody love you, Harry fucking Potter," Draco screamed out in a stream of consciousness. "I love you, all right? Now will you please--"
"Oh gods!" Before Draco could speak Harry had entered him and was moving sharply, as if to make up for lost time. He was saying something, but Harry hardly knew what it was anymore, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. Draco was there, surrounding him, warm and tight and it was almost a welcoming home to hear him moaning his name below him as their bodies' collided insistently.
"Harry--" Draco screamed brokenly, and it shattered into a hundred little pieces as his orgasm came and its remnants clung to his stomach and chest.
Above him Harry heard it, the tender, childish way that Draco always said his name before he came. It was beautiful, he thought, wrapping his arms about Draco's chest. He was suddendly overwhelmed with the feelings he had for the other man, and along with the desire to complete, it was almost too much to bear. It was a thick, heady haze of emotion between them as Harry thrusted once more and released, his body clinging to Draco's until every last bit of his orgasm left him. "Draco," he said softly, as he moved off him reluctantly, "I love you too."
"Oh, Potter," Draco said tiredly, "I doubt you'd be up my ass as often as you are if you didn't." Both stared at each other for a moment before breaking into a fit of laughter.
They lay together, side by side, not moving or speaking before the heaviness and satiety of sleep called to them. Harry waited until he was sure Draco was asleep and moved over to his side of the bed. Like always, he was curled into a small ball in near the edge of the bed, hogging up all the sheets. Wonderingly, Harry watched the rise and fall of his chest, the light movement of his eyelashes, the slight ajar way his mouth was open in sleep. Gently, he placed a kiss on the clean shaven jaw.
"Hmm," Draco said, smiling in his sleep. Harry moved to his corner of the bed, giving Draco the space he always craved. He hated to be crowded; Harry had learned that early on in their relationship. Though he wanted to pull Draco towards him, he began to dift off to sleep on the opposite side.
It was with mild shock that he was woken up by the feeling of two soft, warm hands pull him toward the other side of the bed and wrap themselves about his shoulders. Harry turned and looked at Draco. The light of early morning was refracting in his flaxen hair, giving him the air of an angel. A soft smile played on the red lips. "Come here, Harry," he said in a sweet droll.
Surprised, he moved his body towards Draco's, resting his head against his chest, as Draco wrapped his arms about his back. Idly, Draco played with a stand of Harry's hair, looking down at the surprised face with mild satisfaction. "You need to cut your hair, you know," he said, craning his head to kiss the neck next to his own. The taste of Harry's skin was like nothing else in the world.
All around Harry was the musky, almost sweet smell that followed Draco around like a mist of arousal. "I always need to cut my hair, Draco," he yawned, putting a hand to his mouth. "Gods, is that the sun rising?"
"Apparently, Potter," Draco said, unable to contain the urge to tease him. "Unless you can explain another yellow orb rising in the east."
"Draco Malfoy," Harry said, putting his chin on his chest so that he could look up at him. "Do you live to annoy me?"
"No," Draco said, forced into honesty by the brilliance of the green eyes staring into his own. "I live completely of my own accord, Potter. But annoying you does bring me immense joy."
"Oh, shit," Harry said, smiling nearly from ear to ear. "I think you might have actually said something semi- nice to me that wasn't in the throws of passion."
"Shut up," Draco replied with a laugh, "Only you would think that a compliment. Shh. Or I'll push you off me. Let's go to sleep, will you? I'm bloody tired after last night."
Without another word, Harry and Draco turned on their sides, and drifted off to sleep. And so with their limbs wrapped around each other's like two pieces of the same puzzle, they fit into each other, Harry's head on Draco's chest, Draco's leg fitting easily against Harry's waist. The sun rose to it's highest peak before the pair awoke, and in a fit early morning tenderness, Draco brought Harry's mouth to his own, and they exchanged a dozen lazy openmouthed kisses.
If the Death Eater, who had just perched on the roof of the small English cottage as if it where a Muggle toy, and could see beyond the slanted attic and clutter of that room down into the men's bedroom below it, at the precise moment he landed he would have been witness to the instant Harry Potter's mouth enclosed Draco Malfoy and the blond hope for the Dark Cause tightened his grip on the sheets surrounding him and screamed Harry Potter's name as he climaxed.