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Pure Ecstasy

Disclaimer: I, Ashley Wamsley, swear that I, sadly, do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, especially Harry with his sexy little tush and-ahem-or any the song "Good morning beautiful" or…let's see…oh yeah, any of the bands featured on the t-shirts the guys wore to the dance.  I don't own anything! Oh, wait-except the character Ashley, since it's kinda…me…but the characters Courtneigh, Jessica, and Becca are just friends of mine and in my stories I do own them and I can make them do whatever the hell I want!MWHAHAHAHAHA-oh sorry, on with the story…heh heh heh…

Chappy 1. Cold Showers Make For Long Nights

Draco was his name. Everyone called him by his alst name, Malfoy, but his name was Draco. He always felt left out and separated from the crowd. No one understood him,no one truly knew the Draco deep down. He had always known he was different. He had always known there was just something about him…

Harry Potter bounded over the grounds and made it to Hagrid's hut just in time. Double Care Of Magical Creatures. Oh boy, slytherins. Draco turned and looked at Harry, closely followed by his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. His hair was mussed and windblown, his cheeks flushed and his robes hanging askew. There was just something about Harry as he stood there, breathing heavily. Something almost…sensual…

Draco scolded himself. What the hell! Harry Potter was his mortal ememy, and he was straight…wasn't he?

"And this is a Hippogriff, which I've shown you before. Remember to be careful. Now, who would like to ride him?" the Hippogriff was gray and black, strongly built, and made to fly. Harry stepped up.

"I'd like to try." he said.

"Great! You remember the steps." Hagrid motioned him forward. Harry bowed and procceded to mount the animal; Hagrid had called him Niblick. He was soon flying high above their heads, dipping down in dives so close you could see every hair on his head, every glint in his eyes.

Draco looked on at him, unable to remove his eyes from Harry. He had a serious look about him, his hair ruffled and his robes now almost completely fallenoff, held on only by the crook of his arm as he tightly gripped the reins, holding on with the sheer power of his hands. You could tell he was strong, though his lean frame did not show it. One look at those hands told it all. His eyes held a raw intensity, a fierce glare that radiated and intoxicated Draco. He was enchanted.

Like a cobra to his masters music, Draco swayed slightly with each of Harry's twists and turns, moved back and forth and to the sides in a rhythmic pattern,

He couldn't get ahold of himself. He had no idea what he was thinking, or feeling, for that matter, until Harry's flight was over. As he gracefully landed Niblick, Draco realized his heart was beating fast, and his breathing was hard. His face flushed as he forced a calm and scolded himself for such thoughts.

"Anyone else?" Hagrid called out.

"Me!" Draco didn't know why he had volunteered himself, but he glared angrily at Harry as he climbed on Niblick, as if it was his fault he had thought like that.

But it did feel good to sit where he had sat, to grab the reins that he had held, which fueled Draco's empowering frustration all the more. He took hold of them and flew like he had never flown before. He flew as if he were Harry. For the rest of the class period, Draco felt oodly uncomfortable, like his gut knew something he didn't, knew something was about to happen and refused to tell his brain, but was feeding the gossip to his heart, exciting it and making it beat rapidly. When class ended, he brushed past Harry, stopped briefly in front of him, and glancing into his eyes. Was something there? He passed on, hiding his now flaming cheeks from this action.

Harry loved that flying sensation. When he's riding on a Hippogriff his heart soared along, racing the wind, and he was in a state of pure ecstacy, a europhia that was so great, he never wanted it to end. It was sorta like that feeling you get when you're in love. He was really enjoying this lesson. He was still thinking of his flying when Malfoy stopped in front of him. What was that look? There was something in Malfoy's eyes that was not usually there when the two exchanged glances. It was softer, gentler. Almost pleading. Searching. But as fast as it had come, it disappeared, as Malfoy swept past, walking quickly, with a hand nervously toying with the back of his neck.

"Huh," he thought to himself, "that's new…"

Quiditch practice. Another of Harry's favorites. This practice had left him a bit muddy and sweaty. He definitely needed a shower. After grabbing a fresh set of clothes and his shower things he headed for the bathrooms. He couldn't go to just any shower room; the one on the second floor was the most repitable. It was the cleanest, more private, and had more showering options, such as tingly blue bubbles that hummed the melody to your favorite song. He reached it and went into a changing room. He threw his clothes into the tube leading to the laundry and draped a towel around his waist. There was only one more boy here, as Harry could hear the water running in another stall. He entered his own and sighed as he turned on the hot water. Remembering his glasses were still on, he stepped back out to remove them.

Draco wearily stood under the shower head and let the spray flow over him. He stared down at the tiles, white with light blue trim. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He had felt so weird at Hagrid's hut today, and it had left him that way all day. He heard another boy enter the room and begin to undress. He heard his sigh as the shower began. Draco decided it was too steamy in there, and that he'd had enough water. He shut it off, grabbed his towel and exited his stall, just as Harry Potter emerged from one straight across from his.

His heart lept into his throat. Heat overcame him, engulfing his…um…"body".., as he noticed Harry's towel only partially wrapped around his body. He could see steam rising off his dripping form, his exposed right thigh and abdomen. Harry quickly covered himself, as did Draco, as he realized (to his utter horror) what the heat had done to his-er…"toweled section". Harry removed his glasses and pushed wet black hair from his face. Draco couldn't help himself. He strode over to Harry and raised his face to his. Slipping his hand over Harry's waist, Draco kissed him, pulling him to his chest. His kiss was deep, passionate. Harry pulled back, stunned. Had Malfoy really just kissed him! He looked in Malfoy's eyes and saw that look again. That tender, soft, pleading look that was searching for some recognition, some familiarty of the situation. He saw that Malfoy was just as confused and scared. He also saw… well, he couldn't quite place it. At that moment he felt a connection. He and Malfoy were the same. Before he could stop what was happening, he leaned in and put his arms around Malfoy and let their lips come to meet. Malfoy moved in and they pressed together. The kiss intensified and both did nothing to stop it. And neither wanted to. Draco's hand slipped down and trailed across Harry's still wet body, across his waist, his hip, his thigh.

Malfoy's touch made him squirm, made him quiver. He knew this wasn't right, but he couldn't pull away. He couldn't bring himself to tell Malfoy to stop. Then there was a creak. The door began to open and on the other side, two boys were about to walk in.

That was enough to break them apart. They flew away from each other, breathing heavily, lips red. Suddenly embarrassed, Harry turned and busied himself with his glasses that lay next to him, and Draco began preparing to leave. Stealing a last glance at Harry at the door, their eyes met and Harry gave a little nod good-bye. The two boys who had entered had no idea what had been going on, no idea what they had broken up, went about their own showers. Harry went back to his, remembering the water he had left running.

He stepped in. Hot. His blood already ran hot; he had no need to intensify the temperature. He shakily turned the dial to cold. Soaping up, he tried (unsuccessfully) to push the incident from his wandering mind.