Toxic

Chapter One

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy sneered, sauntering over to a young man with messy black hair. He looked up and saw Draco. His face immediately turned the colour of a fresh snowfall.

"What are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night?" Draco puffed out his chest so that his prefect caught the light of a torch and gleamed importantly. It gave him great pleasure to flaunt his power, and even more to abuse it. He took particular glee when getting Harry and his golden friends in trouble.

"Umm… well… that is…" Harry mumbled nervously, his eyes darting around the hall. Almost like he was trying to look at everything but Draco. He finally settled on his feet. "I was just…"

Draco interrupted him before he got some lame excuse like, "Ron is being eaten by a giant chimera" or "The Mudblood was taken by evil little dust bunnies that are in league with You-Know-Who and planning to take over the castle."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and this is being reported to Professor Snape." Draco took immense delight in Harry's crestfallen face. If he could he would've added in a detention. Cleaning with Filch, perhaps. Draco smiled mentally at the thought of Harry in a little french maid costume cleaning frogspawn off the dungeon ceilings.

"Please…" Harry pleaded. Draco could've burst with joy at this point. Begging. It was such a turn on. "I was looking for you… that's why I'm out. I even dressed up for you. See?" He raised up his arms and began to slowly twirl so Draco could appraise his outfit.

"You were looking for me?" Draco asked, his eyes roving down Harry's body. His mouth opened so wide his jaw almost hit the stone floor.

Harry was standing there dressed in nothing but a pink thong and tube socks. His skin was covered in goose pimples from the cold. Green eyes watched Draco closely for any hint of approval.

Draco was speechless. Electricity was raging through his body as he slowly began to harden against his will. Blush sprung up all over his pale white face. He looked away but Harry's bare skin was like a magnet and Draco again found himself staring in awe at the raw sexiness and beauty of the young man standing before him. His enemy, the boy he hated, the boy who landed his father in prison, Harry Potter.

But all Draco felt was hunger and desire. He wanted to touch every inch of the tanned body before him. To discover what made it reel in pleasure, to find out what made it tick.

Harry opened his mouth and said the words that sent chills down Draco's spine. The words that made Draco harder than he had ever been.

"My body is yours. All you have to do is come and take it."

Draco just stood there, staring, his pants bulging out in the crotch. Harry smirked.

"You want me, you stupid fag? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want to caress me?" Harry whispered in his ear, his breath skirting across Draco's sweaty face, sending chills down his spine. "What would your father think?"

&

Draco sat up in bed, panting. The bedsheets and his pyjamas were drenched in a cold sweat, clinging to his body. Darkness pushed in around him, making the images in his head all the more vivid.

It was the same every night. Harry in a state of near nudity offering up his body for Draco to have if he could and take it. Teasing him, taunting him. Always so close in the end, so close for Draco to touch, but he never did. Never. He wasn't gay… he wasn't a fucking poofter. He was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. His blood was purer than pure. He was going to marry a pureblood woman and have pureblood children. That was his path in life, his father expected it. Being gay didn't fit in.

"Than why do you dream about Potter every night? How come you pretend to hate him so much?" He asked himself, staring at the black hangings encircling his bed. It was like he was in some different world where the only person was himself. "Why is it that when you jerk yourself you always think about Harry? No matter how hard you try to imagine Pansy blowing you she always turns into him. And don't forget what happened with…"

"SHUT-UP!" he shouted, throwing his hands over his ears to block out his thoughts. "I won't listen to you… you're wrong."

There was no answer. The gloom around him was silent except for the dull, rhythmic snoring of Crabbe. Slowly his breathing returned to normal but he still felt like something was lurking on the edge of his mind, something waiting in the blackness to pounce on him when he fell back to sleep. And he had a strong suspicion that the thing was Harry in the pink thong and tube socks, ready to finish off what he started.

He couldn't back to sleep… he couldn't dream about that. He'd tried potions for dreamless sleeps but Harry still crept in like a cockroach, infesting his mind with his filth. So instead he whipped up a potion that kept him awake, all night if necessary. He had to use it at least four times a week, and the dreams were becoming more and more frequent. A few more sleepless nights and Draco would probably collapse in the middle of class.

Still, he reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a small, worn flask. Slipping out of bed he padded across the softly carpeted floor to the pitcher of water sitting on a small table in the centre of the room. Pouring himself a glass of cool water he added a drop of the thick, honey coloured liquid from the flask and swirled it around with his finger.

When the potion had dissolved he tipped back his head and downed the whole concoction in one gulp, slamming the glass back onto the table. But in the dark he miscalculated and the glass fell to the floor, shattering over the carpet.

"What the hell is going on?" A dark face peered out from the black bed hangings. "Draco is that you?"

"Yeah, it is Blaise. Just broke a glass, go back to bed. I can deal with it," Draco whispered to his roommate, hoping that he would drop back to sleep. The last thing he wanted was to be around people right now. Especially Blaise.

"Oh, okay. 'Night then." Blaise pulled his hangings shut and within seconds his breathing became slow and even paced.

Sighing, Draco pulled out his wand and fixed the glass, which hopped back up onto the table. He screwed the top of the flask back on and replaced it back in the drawer. A small dose like that would probably keep him going till dawn when he could go down to the dinging hall and drink a lot of coffee. The potion worked, but it was never a good idea to use it more than once a day. You could end up awake for an entire month before dying of exhaustion. So that meant Draco was left to his own devises during the day, no potion to keep him up.

Now that he was awake Draco pulled on his silk dressing robe over his pale green pyjamas and shuffled into his slippers.

The common room was almost entirely quiet. The only sound was the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace, which cast an eerie orange light over the whole room.

Draco fell into a plush armchair and stared into the dancing flames, wondering what it would be like if life was different.

If his father wasn't in jail… if the Dark Lord hadn't torn his family apart… if he didn't have these feelings inside of him that he didn't want. He hated Harry, more than anyone in the world. He hated that his rival seemed to have life made for him. Everyone liked him when he wasn't being too much of a jerk and he wasn't confused.

But why was he dreaming about Harry? How come whenever he was near him he wanted to touch Harry's body so much that he hated himself for it afterwards? Why was he drawn to the Boy-Who-Lived when he had the perfect pureblooded girlfriend that would do anything for him, had done anything with him? Why was it when he was with her all he could think about was Harry?

Draco held his hand to his head, telling himself that he was simply sick. Sixth year had definitely been somewhat of an adjustment. Even with fewer classes he had more homework than ever.

That was it. He was over-worked and sick. He wasn't in love with Harry. He wasn't gay. He was sick… just sick.

"But what about that night…"

&

"What's the matter, honey? You look absolutely wasted?" Pansy Parkinson crooned, hugging him from the back. Draco sort of fell back into her before going back to his fifth cup of coffee. The potion wore off about an hour before dawn so he had had to force himself to stay awake to escape the hunger that lurked for him in sleep. Now staying up for half the night had caught up to him and he was ready to collapse. This was the third time in the last five days. He wasn't sure he could take anymore of it.

"Eh, too much homework. I think I may be getting a little sick, that's all. Nothing to worry about, love." Your boyfriend is not a fag. Everything is just fine.

"Miss Parkinson," snapped a harsh voice from behind them.

Draco turned to see Pansy standing face to face with Professor McGonnagall. The transfiguration teacher did not look amused; her lip was doing that weird thin line thing. Even from behind he could tell Pansy was mortified, her knees were locked tight and quivering.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, attempting a tone of innocence.

"Would you please lower your skirt? We run a school not a whore house." With that Professor McGonnagall marched off towards the head tables, her emerald green robes billowing behind her.

Draco looked back at Pansy who was unrolling her skirt back to knee length, muttering darkly. "Fucking prude… probably never had sex in her life… probably never even been kissed."

"Be nice, Pans. She was just doing her job." Draco really didn't know what the point of her skirt being so short anyway. She already had a boyfriend. Him. Why would she want to flaunt herself like that?

"Easy for you to say. Not that it ever matters, you never even notice when my skirt is shorter than normal," Pansy pouted, getting into the bench next to him. "You're such a mystery. I never seem to be able to find what turns you on besides sex. What do you find sexy?" She stared at the side of his face intensely.

Was that true? Did he never notice when she was wearing her skirt short?

No, because all you want to see is Harry in that little thong…

'No,' Draco told himself. 'No. I do notice… I'm just too polite to look that's all. Nothing queer about that. My father always taught me to be kind and courteous to a woman, never stare at her curves.' And Pansy's bare legs were definitely curvaceous.

"You, baby," Draco said, kissing her neck softly. "And I'd ravage you right now if we didn't have an audience." All his actions and words were correct but it still felt wrong.

As Pansy began to whisper sweet dirty nothings into his ear, Draco looked up at the door leading into the Great Hall.

Just then Harry walked in flanked on both sides by Hermione and Ron. The Golden Trio. His black hair stood up wildly, sex hair he'd heard some girls call it. Then those penetrating eyes, the colour of emerald. A Seeker's slim build finished off everything beautifully.

For a second he thought about Harry whispering how he wanted to touch his hard dick…

"Shit!" Draco shouted, jumping out of his seat after realising what he was doing. Pansy, who had been leaning on him, toppled onto the ground, her skirt riding up almost to the point where he could see her thong. People around them began to laugh as Draco helped his girlfriend back up.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he told her, dusting off her shirt. "I just… I just have to go to the bathroom really bad."

Pansy studied his face like she knew what he had been thinking seconds before. "It's okay," she reluctantly said. "Go and I'll see you in transfiguration."

Draco kissed her cheek, threw his book bag over his shoulder and rushed from the hall, wanting to look back at Harry but forcing himself not to. He was straight! It was as simple as that. There wasn't an ounce of gay in him. It all boiled down to an undue amount of stress.

At least he was pretty sure that it was.

"Or maybe you're actually gay…"

&