Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they are the property of J.K Rowling.
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The Gryffindor common room is dark and completely silent. Upstairs, thirty-four girls and boys are sleeping heavily, taking advantage of the eight hours before N.E.W.Ts begin. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Frank Longbottom share a large bedroom lined with canopy beds draped in red and gold. Dreams of snitches and red hair and very large libraries dwell in their respective heads.
But someone is missing.
A beam of moonlight is hung from a small window to the opposite side of the common room. It shines silver on the messy black hair of a boy sleeping on a large, pink armchair in the corner. His long eyelashes cast shadows across his face, and he is smiling very slightly, in a curious kind of way.
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He is very, very warm. Peculiarly warm, and he doesn't know why. He opens his eyes quite slowly, revealing a room with dark red walls, a red, silk-covered canopy bed, and a velvet-curtained window through which shines a full, silver moon. A very dark wooden headboard is lined with glowing candles whose shadows dance along the walls. He is in that odd dreaming state where one sees himself as if he were watching through a hole in the wall.
A state of loose dreaming, where you know you are there, and you can manipulate events to a certain extent before becoming too conscious to go on.
Because of this, he thought, a snake is crawling through a hole in the wall now.
It is small and green, like he wants a snake to look. He looks away, then back again, and it is gone.
He looks at himself, and he is naked.
He is lying in the center of the bed, his arms over his head and his legs spread out.
He, for some reason, is perfectly fine with this and doesn't mind when he sees that his wrists and ankles are tied neatly to each of the four bed posts with thick, black rope.
He tests them, trying to pull his hand through the loop, but he can't move.
Ah. He recognizes these dreams. You can't run when you try to run, and you can't talk when you want to talk. He knows his control over things is beginning to wane.
He impulsively opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
He looks at himself again and realizes that there are two broad strips of cloth tied around his head; one over his eyes, and one in his mouth. Despite this, he can see everything, and the snake is slithering out of its hole again, and he notices how heavily he is breathing now.
He wonders to himself why he is here, and alone at that.
He thought he knew what all of this silk-sheets and candles nonsense insinuated.
Something slightly more...routine, though nonetheless more lewd than this.
He closes his eyes, becoming increasingly warm and tired.
He tries to open his eyes, and everything goes black.
He is afraid for the first time now, and tries in vain to see through the supposed blindfold.
He breathes, and listens, and smells the burning candles once more, feeling their warmth against his skin.
He tries again, and his eyes flutter open.
He jumps slightly at the shock of seeing two very large, dark brown eyes staring down at him.
Gorgeous, deep eyes and black hair tied into a ponytail...a long, familiar nose, and deathly pale skin on a lean, smooth body.
The boys face hovers inches above his, and said boy is wearing nothing, apparently, save a very coy smile.
Boy's arms are on either side of his, holding boy up so that his shoulders stretch upwards.
Boy sits with legs underneath himself so that boy's knees are between his own spread legs.
He zones out momentarily, unable to hold this image so that it makes sense, so that it keeps going.
He feels boy's soft hair graze his neck, and comes back. He shudders as boy's lips run across the line of his jaw.
Boy smiles again, his dark stare unwavering.
Boy lowers himself so that the two are body against body, warm and soft and vividly wonderful.
Now, the boy wears tight black leather pants.
Boy runs his knee in between the other's legs.
He struggles against the ropes that are keeping him flat and still, and the boy only thrusts forward in answer, licking his neck.
The strip of cloth gagging him needs to come off, he thinks, but it is still tied tightly behind his head.
Boy leans up, and a cold chain runs across the other's bare chest.
He notices that the boy now wears a spiked leash, which is connected from boy to the foot of the bed near the floor somewhere.
He feels a slight wave of pleasure from the sight, and writhes with it.
Boy's hand graces the side of his face gently, and boy looks up toward the headboard. Boy leans upwards towards it, stretched out like a white cat above his head.
Boy blows out each of the candles one by one, and everything is dark.
He reaches behind his head and unties the two strips of cloth.
"Finally," he thinks, but it is too late now.
He feels the rough arm of the chair on his face and reluctantly opens his eyes, just wondering.
Hoping that the dream would come back if he just laid there a little bit longer.
But it didn't. The images started to melt away, and he was determined to hold on to them.
No, no...
Who was that? I know that face...
He sits up, rubbing his eyes.
That boy...
That boy.
He buries his face in his hands.
Oh, God.
Oh, God. He knew it. It was him...
He stands up, stretching, and staggers upstairs to the bedroom.
He quietly enters and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness before finding his bed in the middle of the room. He climbs under the sheets and sighs, staring at the canopy above him.
Peter is snoring rather loudly.
He considers for a moment.
He stares straight up for what seems like hours, but he can only think about one thing.
Forcing back the shame of it, he finishes a small task that had been left undone by his awakening...
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Thoughts race through his mind.
I just want to get it over with, he thinks.
But then he starts, and the image of the boy in his dream comes back to him.
Dark hair falls around the boy's face...
The dark eyes are drilling into him, and the boy smiles that goddamned smile again, and it runs straight to his groin like nothing else.
He wants to be disgusted. He wants to stop.
But he keeps going.
The chain runs across his body, and it's cold on his skin all over again...
The boy watches him quietly, and takes hold of the chain, playing with it in his hands as he sits on his knees.
The boy hands him the chain, and their hands touch, fingers running together slowly...
He takes the chain as the boy lets go, and he holds it tight.
He and the boy watch each other for a long moment, and he somehow knows what to do.
He draws the chain towards him, and the boy crawls closer, staring at him with a cold, lonely hunger in his eyes.
He pulls the boy up to him, and their mouths come together in a long kiss.
He wraps his arms around the boy, and they pull rabidly at one another, kissing roughly, grabbing for hair and digging nails into skin.
He comes unexpectedly, breathing so quickly that he might die
his heart racing like it hadn't in a long time
He spreads out on the bed in a tired heap,
warm.
Peculiarly warm.
And he doesn't know why.
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