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WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL DESCRIPTION. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE 17 OR OLDER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Ch.9: Day Four, Part II: Through the Looking Glass Day Four, Part II: Through the Looking Glass

Once Malfoy had disappeared through the glass greenhouse doors, Harry turned to Hermione with the most mixed and confused expression on his face.

"Hermione –" he began with some distress.

Hermione, however, dared fathom the unfathomable, and ventured (erroneously) to know exactly what was weighing upon Harry's soul. "Go to him," she said wisely, presumptuously.

"What?" Harry sputtered, his confusion compounding itself.

"Go. . . I know you want to." Harry's face acquired an impossible gradation of incredulity, he had never been so confused in his life; his jaw actually fell open. What was she going on about? But Hermione barreled on, clearly continuing to completely misread his situation. "I've known for a while now, and it's okay. I can't judge you, not on this. Our feelings take us to strange places."

Her delivery was impeccably calm and compassionate, reeking of one who believes herself to be all-knowing. Still, despite the fact that Harry couldn't quite conceive what she was hinting at (what in Merlin's name did she think she knew?), he couldn't help but latch onto her last sentence – our feelings do indeed take us to strange places, and Harry had always been one to follow his feelings, for better or worse. Those feelings had gotten Sirius killed, true, but Harry trusted them still, for it had not been his feelings at fault in Sirius' death but Dumbledore's willful decision to keep him in the dark. Harry could no more deny the direction of his feelings than a seer can deny her visions – to do so would be to deny a fundamental truth.

So Harry took the proffered opportunity to follow his gut, his heart, his soul. "Thank you," he gushed evocatively, roughly grabbing Hermione in a quick but meaningful embrace. And then, like that, he was out the door, chasing after the blond figure who had just disappeared through the doors of Hogwarts proper.

Despite the fear that Malfoy would disappear into the twisting hallways of Hogwarts, Harry found the Slytherin with little effort, walking calmly towards the Great Hall.

"Malfoy!" he called out, barely knowing himself what he was going to say.

Malfoy turned around abruptly, regarding Harry with an inscrutable expression completely devoid of surprise, and allowed the Gryffindor wonder boy to catch up with him. "What do you want, Potter," he demanded in a tone lacking both enmity and affability.

Intellectually, Harry was stumped by the question, but Harry had never been one to require his intellect to act intelligently. "Is that is it then, Malfoy?" Harry demanded in return. "You're just going to die? You've never been one for self-sacrifice. I thought you had more egoism than that."

Malfoy raised an impressed eyebrow for a moment, before an alluring, almost amiable smirk materialized on his pink lips. "You know me well, Potter. . . Alas, you underestimate the depth of my hate and rage and self-righteousness. You have always been blind to how much of my personality is composed of vengeance." He began stalking towards Harry, continuing with a hungry, manic glint in his eyes, "It's going to be me. No one has suffered more at their hands, I arrogantly proclaim, and so I am going to claim my right to retribution."

Harry was at a loss as to how he should respond to such a succession of outrageous statements, but that didn't prevent him from holding his own in the staring contest that Malfoy subsequently forced up him. Some analytical, distantly detached part of himself took note of and was impressed by how much of this reality he was able to discern from the mere act of listening.

There was a strained, intense handful of seconds, in which the two enemies were but a few inches from each other, then Malfoy hissed, "Fuck first period, let's find a room."

Curiosity and caution mingled, but Harry nodded nonetheless.

Malfoy didn't even wait to recognized Harry's affirmation – he had already turned away from him before promptly grabbing his hand and pulling him down an empty hallway to one of the many abandoned rooms that littered Hogwarts. There was some part of Harry that found a passive pleasure in having the ability to react to events, instead of instigate – it took away the responsibility of having to invent creative action from scratch. Beside, he was used to it. When you are Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, crazy-ass shit happen to you all the time, and you have to deal with it. Rarely had he ever sought trouble, trouble sought him. Still, it was with no small amount of shock that he found himself pinned limply against the wall of a vacant room, Malfoy's body pressed vertically along his own.

"One more time?" Malfoy inquired forcefully, erotically. "For luck?"

Panic and lust mingled as Harry felt his body react to Malfoy's proximity; it was so easy to respond without thinking, knowing that the consequence of one's actions would be erased by tomorrow. It hadn't taken Harry long at all to fall into such a mindset – probably because that is the mindset most natural to us all; the mindset that only unwillingly matures into the concept of cause and effect that is foreign to the child in all of us.

And so he found himself passionately kissing the blond beauty, without regard to intellect or reason – in a situation like this, passion overwhelmed the mind, and thought was easy to forsake. Tongues fought for dominance, lips caressed and sucked desperately, in a vehement display of desire until. . .

Abruptly, Malfoy broke away, and he gazed heatedly into Harry's eyes, his face fierce, tinged with desperation. The expression pierced Harry's heart.

Then Malfoy spoke. "Fuck me, Potter."

Harry choked and was suddenly coughing in surprise and disorientation as the truth of matters hit him, and he weakly pushed Malfoy away; but the Slytherin was not so easily dissuaded. He entwined his fingers with Harry's, holding his hands to the stone wall, then rubbed his body along the length of Harry's. "Come on, Potter, don't get squeamish on me now. I think I deserve a little more living before it's all over."

Harry felt like Alice through the looking glass. Have sex with Draco Malfoy! Human time bomb Malfoy! Harry had barely come to terms with being attracted to Malfoy, he certainly wasn't ready to lose his virginity so abruptly and unexpectedly. So what if Malfoy seemed to be under the impression that they had had sex before, he had had sex with someone else, some other Harry Potter, not him. He had never had sex before in his life!

His mind was a maelstrom of objection, but his demanding erection and Malfoy's provocative and alluring features conspired to bypass his brain altogether. Hell, Harry found himself rationalizing uncharacteristically, he was sixteen, and who knows when he'd have another chance to pop his cherry, and he'd probably never have another chance to shag Draco Malfoy. (He completely forgot the fact that this was actually the second time in three days that he had been presented with such an opportunity.)

The war between mind and body was settled in a matter of seconds, and Harry found himself propelled into action.

He suddenly gripped Malfoy's thin wrists and pinned them above his head, twisting Malfoy's body around so that their positions were reversed and it was the blond who was pinned under Harry's weight against the wall. Malfoy's almost beseeching expression was instantly replaced with a confident, fuck-me grin. "Pound me into the floor, Harry, I know you want to," the sexy bombshell. Ugh, what an awful pun.

Harry felt the last vestiges of inhibition fall away as he unreservedly allowed himself to respond positively to Malfoy's attentions and desires. He dragged his own erection up Malfoy's leg until it met the hardness that was its own match. Both Harry and Malfoy moaned in relief as their manhoods pressed into each other, rubbing instinctively against each other in search of an unparalleled pleasure. . .

It was an unpleasant shock when Malfoy unexpectedly and forcefully shoved him away, and there was a moment of incomprehension before Harry realized that Malfoy had pushed him away in order to cast a silencing spell on the room and to rapidly strip off his robes and pants. Harry's eyes lingered on the delectably perfect body and the ivory skin being unveiled before him, and the only vestment of his own that he managed to discard was his robe. Unwillingly and unintentionally, he found his racing thoughts dwelling on what he knew of Malfoy's grossly mistreated past. How did this behavior fit into complex puzzle that was Draco Malfoy?

But such wandering was again driven away by incurable lust as Malfoy (now starkers) crushed his lips to Harry's. Malfoy's hands quickly made their way up Harry's shirt, touching and rubbing; Harry's own inexperienced fingers mirrored Malfoy's, tracing down the soft skin of the blond's lithe body until he unexpectedly found himself freely groping Malfoy's readily available genitals. He almost pulled away in surprise, but Malfoy pushed into his palm as he finished unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

Harry knew he was clumsily manhandling Malfoy's privates, but the Slytherin didn't object; he had moved on to unzipping Harry's pants, which pooled around his ankles, causing Harry to stumble awkwardly as Malfoy pushed him towards the only table in the room.

In the second it took Harry to regain his balance, Malfoy had positioned himself against the table, arms and torso resting on the surface and perfect ass arched up. Time froze – it was so surreal that Harry was temporarily stunned. A kamikaze Draco Malfoy was exposing himself wantonly, obscenely, to him, Harry Potter, and they were seconds away from having completely unhampered intercourse. . . and Harry knew that there was no way in hell he was going to back out now. The vision of Malfoy like that was nearly enough in and of itself to make him cum.

Almost as if he was acting under the Imperius, Harry reached out and tentatively rubbed Malfoy's firm behind, causing the suppliant boy to moan and push back into Harry's hands. Encouraged, and on the verge of hyperventilating, Harry parted the cheeks to get a glimpse of what he was suddenly fixed on – Malfoy's tiny, pink asshole, quivering in anticipation.

Drawn as if by magic, Harry's digit traced up Malfoy's cleft to shyly touch the delicate muscle; Malfoy trust back again, and Harry barely managed not to jerk away in surprise as the tip of his finger disappeared into Malfoy's tight hole.

Malfoy growled in frustration. "Stop playing, Potter! Get on with it already!"

As inexperienced as Harry was, he was pretty sure that something more was required – as it was, there was no way his dick was going to fit into that diminutive opening. "Don't we, uh, need lube or something," Harry asked uncomfortably, his mouth dry, inwardly slapping himself for sounding so very much like he hadn't a clue what he was doing.

"Fuck, Potter! Are you an imbecile? No!"

Harry flushed in embarrassment and anger. Fine, Malfoy, have it your way.

Malfoy cried out in agony and lust as Harry forcefully penetrated him in one powerful lunge. He was so tight and dry that Harry was in pain too, but it just served to drive them both into a crazed outbreak of frenzied fucking. There was no thinking, just intoxicating adrenaline and sensation so powerful it was unrecognizable as either pleasure or pain. They were both screaming, but neither heard; a faint smear of blood appeared on Harry's member, but neither noticed.

It was over in moments, Harry burying himself deep inside of Malfoy, Harry's weight pressed Malfoy's spent body against the rickety table. "Oh God, oh Merlin," Harry gasped.

There was a long, heavy pause before Malfoy jerked away – violently, so that Harry's sensitive organ fell away, exposed to the elements. Though Malfoy stood trembling, propped against the wall, he still managed to seem proud and indifferent. Harry felt numb and profoundly incredulous, until he noticed the traces of drying blood.

"Shit! Malfoy, there's blood! I didn't mean to hurt you! Are you okay?" Harry babbled a little hysterically, stumbling towards the other boy.

Malfoy leaned away from him, and an expression of extreme distaste materialized on his face. "What the hell is wrong with you, Potter? Of course there's blood, we just engaged in rough sex without any lubrication!"

"You said we didn't need any!" Harry accused, sounding every bit as upset as he felt. This whole experience, barely ten minutes in length, was turning out to be rather traumatic.

"And we didn't! I'm fine!" Malfoy retorted angrily. "Why do you suddenly care anyway?"

That shut Harry up instantly.

As long seconds passed in which Harry could offer nothing but uncomfortable silence, Malfoy's annoyed look morphed into one of suspicion. His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer, over tha half meter that separated him from the Gryffindor wonderboy. "What's going on, Potter? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Harry stuttered unconvincingly.

"Don't lie to me," Malfoy hissed dangerously, grabbing Harry's naked shoulders in a painful grip. "Whatever it is, it better not interfere with tomorrow."

Harry wanted to ask what was happening tomorrow, but all he managed was, "It won't, I swear."

Impossibly, Malfoy's eyes narrowed even further. "I knew it, something is happening."

He hadn't asked a question, but it was clear that he expected an answer, and it occurred to Harry that maybe he could use this opportunity to get some answers out of Malfoy. . . if the Slytherin was as hell-bent on saving the wizarding world as he seemed to be. Well, maybe 'saving the world' was an overly charitable interpretation of Malfoy's drive for vengeance. . .

Harry nodded cautiously.

Malfoy let his hands drop from Harry's shoulders, and Harry was a little disappointed in the loss of contact. "Tell me," Malfoy demanded firmly.

Slowly, Harry nodded. "Okay. But I was telling the truth when I said that this has no bearing on tomorrow. I'm only going to tell you because you might be able to help."

Malfoy pulled away further, a deep hurt apparent in his features. "Now you think I can help? Now that I'm a day away from dying for your cause, you are able to come up with a way for me to be useful after all?"

Harry felt a deep stab of guilt (accompanied by a disturbing desire to kiss the blond), but Malfoy's predicament wasn't his doing. He had no response to Malfoy's wounded question, so he said nothing.

Malfoy breathed deeply and appeared to pull himself together. "Fine. I'll help if I can. . . What's going down?"

Harry turned away and picked up the pants that lay abandoned on the floor. "I'm not who you think I am. I come from a different reality in which you and me – we're different people. Some things are the same, like Ron and Hermione being my best friends, but some things are completely different, like our. . . relationship. You never offered me help, you never gave any indication of not being on your father's side. And we certainly never did anything like. . . what we just did. In fact, this was my. . . my first time."

Malfoy's mouth fell open slightly in disbelief, but his eyes clearly revealed a racing mind.

"I know, it's unbelievable, it's impossible. But someone used the Quareo Tempus potion," Harry rushed on, running his hand through his messy hair – though he didn't miss Malfoy's body tense at the mention of the potion. "But they left out the missing ingredient, now I'm stuck, everyday going from one reality to the next, searching for answers. Then yesterday – in a different reality – Snape told me that you might have once figured out the extra component necessary to make the Quareo Tempus controllable, which just might allow me to steer these jumping timeline back to the original one."

Harry zipped up his pants, then bit his cheek and and looked at Malfoy as he waited for his response; powerful gears were obviously turning behind Malfoy's closed mask, but what conclusion he would draw was anyone's guess.

"It can't be that simple," Malfoy finally commented shrewdly. "You're not telling me everything."

Harry suppressed a quell of irritation; why couldn't anything with Malfoy ever be easy? "No, but I hardly think that all the details are relevant," he bluffed –

Quite convincingly, apparently, as Malfoy pondered his words for a moment longer before reluctantly submitting. "Okay, Potter. Pretending for a moment that I believe your incredible story, which I must admit is only substantiated by your complete sexual ineptitude – " Harry flushed, and Malfoy continued, "Snape was right. I do know a few of spells and potions that have pretty good odds of being the, uh, 'extra component' you are looking for."

"A few? The one I'm looking for has Ent tree's blood," Harry hurried to add, desperately close to the answer he was searching for. One of Malfoy's elegant eyebrows arched in recognition.

Harry fixated on Malfoy, who promptly affected disinterest and began donning his own vestments. Harry waited for patient seconds, aggravated by the disappointment of Malfoy's disappearing skin, before he demanded in a strangled voice, "Well!"

Malfoy nonchalantly finished buttoning his shirt before returning his crafty attention to Harry. He stalked towards him slowly. "And what, pray tell, do I get in return for giving you such crucial information?"

Harry was thrown for a loop, and all he could offer in an aggravated response was, "What do you want?"

Malfoy stopped about half a meter from Harry and studied him for a long moment. "Well, there's not much I can ask for, given that I am thirty six hours away from nonexistence." He approached Harry so closely that the latter found himself once again aroused and up against the wall. Harry trembled in nervousness as Malfoy gently rubbed his cheek along Harry's jaw, before whispering seductively in his ear, "Remember me. Remember me well; and when your friends, or the press, say something horrible about me, tell them that I wasn't that bad, that I did what I could to save the world too."

Malfoy pulled away slightly to gaze intensely into Harry's emerald eyes. "I will," Harry returned earnestly. "I swear."

Malfoy's face inched closer, until his lips were brushing Harry's, before whispering, "Anticipare ab Deducere."

! End of Chapter !

Please review! The speed of this posting was partly self-inspired, but the other part of my inspiration came from me fabulous reviews. I am a serious writer and am OPEN TO CRITICISM. What could I be doing better? Which parts do you need improvement? I apologize if this chapter is a too graphic for some readers' tastes, I just write what I feel. (On the other hand, I gave you some sugar, show me some love!) I hope you lot are looking forward to the next chapters as much as I am!