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Disclaimer/Warning: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is slash - male x male relationships. It also contains femmeslash - female x female relationships. If this offends you or doesn't suit your fancy in any way, then do not read below this warning and the future chapters. The concept is quite simple, and a bad review on this particular topic will only make you look like an ass. Thanks!
Author's Note: In need of a beta. Any volunteers? Chapter Two - Enjoy!
Chapter Two - The Inner Torture of an Undeserving Slytherin
It was beautiful outside, he had to admit; the golden rays of the sun hit the lake at the right angle to make the iridescence of the surface sparkle perfectly. Posador quails - the wizard equivalent of a Muggle hummingbird - chirruped musically, all the while drinking greedily from the expansive flowers in the garden, and a gentle breeze soared through the area, making the trees sway as if dancing...
But it was sickening. So bloody tranquil and drenched in goodness that the only things missing were a couple of Hug-Me Hufflepuffs and Do-Gooder Gryffindors frolicking in the fields while holding hands and crying over the idea of world peace.
Bah.
He wanted to hurl all over the beautiful scenery just to taint its seeming perfection.
But of course Draco Malfoy didn't vomit on anything willingly no matter how much he wanted it tainted, although the dream from this morning could make him hurl over and over again and just never stop.
It had been the feeling of something wet dragging from his collarbone to his jaw that woke him from his rejuvenating sleep that day, and he had been most grateful for it. The cursed dream had involved his arch-nemesis Harry Potter with a banana in his mouth saying 'Give it to me,' and for some reason, he couldn't get his dream self to snap the fuck out of it. The pleasurable haze clouding his dream self had been too thick, too wrapped around him for him to even understand anything remotely logical.
Like the advice for him to stop ravishing Potter.
Thank Merlin, the wet object caused said dream to stop when he was giving it to Potter over and over and over again.
But the damage was done.
The image of a wanton Potter with silky black locks flayed over crimson silk sheets, emerald eyes aglow with love and longing, writhing and moaning under his gentle touch was etched/burned/branded/tattooed into his mind, and a part of him (the part he disgustingly called his Hufflepuff side) swooned at the delectable sight.
See, Draco was in lust with Harry Potter; and it was fine, dandy, peachy with a side of keen... ever since Harry came back at a stately six foot with a leanly muscled, tanned form, one would have to be bloody insane not to sit up and take notice. Not to mention the boy made scrap metal of his dorky spectacles and got a sexy piercing on the top corner of his right ear.
Gorgeous!
Draco was more than happy to ogle the boy on several occasions.
But then...it took a drastic turn - a downward spiral into what Draco called The Absolute Forbidden Territory No Matter How Good Looking The Person Is.
Dreams ever night, daydreams every class, surreptitious stares during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, dressing to look extra sexy to gain his attention - it was ridiculous, and the lack of attention from the leader of the Golden Trio only served to make him bitter, frustrated (of the sexual and regular kind), and downright unbearable.
Well, more so than usual.
Even telling his most trusted comrades, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, didn't help; in fact, as he looked back with 20/20 hindsight, it made it worse!
Putting feelings into words always was a slap of reality.
With it now being seventh year, and his crush on Saint Potter growing exponentially with each passing day, Draco was at his breaking point. He hadn't slept with anyone since this stupid crush thingy started, despite the many offers from fellow classmates. Hell, even Seamus fucking Finnegan wandered over into Slytherin territory to "audition" for the part of Draco's fuck buddy!
And he turned him down, no gag reflex and all!
What the bleeding hell was wrong with him?
Was he in -beep- with Potter!
The thought was as disgusting as the idea of frolicking Hufflepuffs.
Fucking Potter, Draco thought with a sneer on his face, fucking with everyone's fucking thoughts like a fucking idiot...
"Draco?"
Draco inwardly smiled, a bit relieved at the intrusion of his dreary thoughts. Not moving from his position adjacent to the lake, Draco replied, "Blaise."
A gentle kiss was dropped to his temple and an arm slung over his shoulders before the handsome chestnut-haired boy came into his line of sight. Questioning hazel eyes bore into irritated silver. "It's 8:00 in the morning on a Saturday. What the hell are you doin' up?"
Letting out a short, humorless laugh, Draco turned his gaze onto the calm waters of the lake. "Couldn't sleep," he informed him in clipped tones. Even though Blaise knew of his plight, it still didn't mean that he wanted to share his feelings like a bloody Hufflepuff.
Blaise removed the arm over Draco's shoulders to cross it with the other across his chest, raising his eyebrow in a decidedly Malfoyish way. Silence reigned supreme a few moments.
"Another Aggravating Ceramist fantasy, right?"
Although a scathing retort for Blaise was on the tip of his tongue, Draco couldn't help but chuckle with amusement at the childhood codename he, Blaise, and Pansy gave Boy Wonder. They must have been nine years old when they first came up with it, and it had been used whenever it was dangerous to say their enemy's name aloud.
Blaise soon joined him in laughter, but still kept an eye on his best friend's expression. He could tell that the half-smile on Draco's face nowhere reached his eyes, and he felt his heart lurch at the sight. Call him a Hufflepuff, but he really did love Draco Malfoy; the boy was witty, loyal, trustworthy to his fellow Slytherin, a leader, and intelligent in every sense of the word. He had poise under pressure, but that quality, and the many other qualities in him, didn't apply to a little thing called love.
And yes, Draco Malfoy, whether he wanted to be a stubborn git about it, was in love with Harry Potter.
Having had the same show-no-emotion training that Draco had, Blaise could recognize what emotions Draco was attempting to hide, especially since it was an emotion he himself was trying to hide from--
"Blaise...?"
Blinking slowly, as if coming from a trance, Blaise focused on the angular face of Draco, cocking his head to the side in questioning. "Yea?"
Draco frowned; he could practically seeing the cogs turning in the other boy's head, but left him alone. He only called out to stop the unblinking stare Blaise had fixed on him.
A companionable silence settled over the pair, for neither really had anything to say to the other. Blaise knew that if he asked Draco what the dream was about, Draco would clam up and say no more than two words to him the rest of the morning, and if Draco asked Blaise what he had been thinking about just moments before, he would get a pensive "Nothing..."
Slytherins always did have trouble with emotional communication.
"So you were thinking about him."
Blaise decided to take a chance. The silence was annoying.
Wincing at the know-it-all tone, Draco's eyes narrowed to slits as he hissed, "None of your fucking business, Zabini."
It was now Blaise's turn to wince as he watched Draco push himself off the ground and start to head back to the school. Scrambling up and trying to meet the brutally fast pace Draco set, Blaise did the only thing he could to snap Draco out of it: "Be a Malfoy, Draco, and go get what you want!"
Draco froze mid-step.
"Pining and bitching over Harry bloody Potter...the bloke is gorgeous and you haven't done anything yet! What happened to the Slytherin Sex God who reigned supreme since he got here? What happened to your I-get-whatever-the-fuck-I-want-whenever-I-want-it-and-you-damn-near-better-give-it-to-me attitude that the Slytherins love and respect?"
Blaise gulped. Being the best friend of Draco Malfoy did have its advantages, but if you pissed him off, you are subjected to the same punishment as everyone else.
And...it appears he pissed him off.
Tiny pebbles leaped from the ground, and blades of grass ripped from the root to circle the spiral of energy surrounding Draco. It took on the color of metallic blue and shimmered brightly as the power steadily increased. Shoulder blade length white gold hair ripped from the confines of an elegant black ribbon and swayed in sync with the waves of energy and wind blowing to the east. Icy silver eyes pierced through frightened hazel.
Blaise knew then that the creators of Avada Kedavra got the color completely wrong.
It wasn't emerald green; it was icy silver.
Gods, did he look like the Angel of Death.
He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for the life he was sure Draco was going to take with him to hell.
But.
Although not brave in public, Slytherins never backed down from a fellow Slytherin. Well, unless it was Draco Malfoy.
So. Take a deep breath and...here goes.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip you apart limb from limb," Draco said conversationally, his voice husky and taunt with anger.
Blaise shuddered. On second thought...
"You have 20 seconds."
Merlin, he was a god! Why did he break up with him?
Snapping out of his thoughts, Blaise looked in horror as Draco inched his way within five feet of his person, and the energy surrounding increased mercilessly. Thank goodness Slytherins had the ability of guile and cunning because he scrambled up a dangerous plan that would dispel the energy and maybe Draco's anger as well. All he needed now was the courage to do it.
"Five."
Shit.
"Four."
Damn.
"Three."
Bloody hell.
"Two."
Fuck!
"One."
"Because you know I'm telling the truth!"
With that phrase, he launched himself at the unsuspecting boy, latching his lips unto his best friend with all the lust he could muster from the image of the Archangel Draco. The two crashed to the ground, and the energy dispelled with a burst, sending ignited pebbles and blades of grass raining to the ground like confetti. Blaise inwardly smirked - the extra lessons from his dear friend Remus Lupin had served him well. When a person leaks magic uncontrollably, the werewolf had said, because of strong emotions, the best defense is a shock factor. The shock to their system serves as a catalyst to release the loose reign on the wild magic.
Mental note: kiss Remus Lupin for his wonderful lessons.
Hearing a moan beneath him, Blaise flipped the two so that he straddled him, breaking the kiss to suck on Draco's neck. The boy beneath him began to struggle then. "Blaise...no...stop..."
Blaise, who had Draco's arms pinned above him, stopped to look into Draco's eyes. Shock ran through his form - lust, along with resignation, glimmered in Draco's eyes. Blaise swiveled his hips as he grinded downward.
"Fuck," Draco breathed out. This is what he wanted - he wanted to fuck, to run his hands over Blaise's delicious form and kiss the heck outta him, but...
Harry.
"Stop it, Blaise!"
Too stunned to do anything else, Blaise rolled off the other boy just as Draco was leaning up to cover his face with his hands. The only thing heard was the heavy panting of the two boys, who stared at each other, one in shock, one in weariness.
Realizing too many of his emotions had been shown, Draco let his mask slip back on. "I do not need to shag my best friend in order to get some; I am not that desperate."
Scrambling up off the ground, Draco made his escape while Blaise collapsed from the shock.
---
To Be Continued…
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