- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -
Authoress Ramble: Below.
Warnings: This story has been rated for repeated use of language and eventual sexual content (none now). Also, it is slash, though I don't feel that should influence the rating ... read as your morals and inhibitions permit.
Disclaimer: Obviously Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger et cetera, et cetera, all belong to J.K. Rowling, the rich genius authoress of the entire Harry Potter series, and also her publishers, et cetera, et cetera, though all original plot lines independent of her novels and her characters belong to me as they were derived from my own twisted mind, et cetera, et cetera, so please do not sue me as I am but a poor, lonely, slash-loving girl authoress, et cetera, et cetera.
Semi-Important Note If You're Confused: Today is Friday night in the story.
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Draco closed his eyes, leaning his head back gingerly onto the top of the couch. He took in deep breaths, his slender chest heaving as he listened to the steady, muffled sound of the running shower.
Hurry up, damn you, his mind raced as he breathed in and out, trying his best to keep his mind calm and silent. Get out of the shower ... put your clothes back on ... out of shower ...
Minutes after Harry had called out to him, he'd stood and walked over to the desk, franticly bottling the complete (if also ruined) potion into a small, clear vile for the other boy to take. He'd then paced the small room, frustrated that the clock was still covered by his pink silk shirt; somehow, he didn't dare touch it.
And after ten or so minutes, he'd sat back down, struggling mentally to keep his thoughts repressed and silent. He didn't want to think anything that he would later regret.
He heard the water slow as the shower was turned off, the pounding slowing to a mere patter and then ... silence. The glass door was slid open, and he listened as Harry stepped onto the floor, shaking his wet hair.
Finally, his mind sighed with relief. He's out of the shower at long last.
Draco let his silver eyes snap open. He blinked, staring up at the shadowed ceiling before lifting his head and running a hand though his slightly mussed, chin-length hair. He stood, walking over to the desk and picking up the small vile as he waited for Harry to emerge.
He didn't have to wait long at all.
a calm voice said to his left. Draco raised his eyes from the potion-making set, turning toward the sound. An instant later, his eyes widened and he nearly dropped the glass vile that lay grasped in his sweaty hand.
Harry frowned, tilting his head a bit to the side as he watched shock and confusion mingle in the blonde's glowing eyes.
He was wearing only a plush white towel that he had tied around his waist.
Draco, having momentarily lost control, let his eyes trail greedily up and down the raven-haired boy's body, taking in the beads of water that still clung to his moist, tan skin, his soaked, jet-black hair that perfectly framed his curious face and bright green eyes ... his toned chest and flat stomach ... the thin line of black hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into the white of the towel ...
Are you all right there? Harry asked meekly, feeling blood rush into his warm cheeks.
Draco blinked, snapping himself back into reality. He scowled, though in reality it was a grimace too fearful to be truly intimidating.
he snarled, taking a large step backward. What do you think you're ... put some clothes on!
Relax, geeze, said Harry indignantly, putting his hands up into the air defensively. Don't be such a prude! It's like you've never seen a guy in a towel before ... don't you Slytherins shower after practice like everyone else?
Of course we do! Draco snapped, frowning deeply.
Why the drama over this, then? Harry asked, letting a trace of curiosity creep into his voice. You should be used to it.
Well I'm fucking not, Draco retorted, setting the vile down on the desk with an audible snap. If you must know, I prefer to shower alone. I'm not fond of putting my body on display as you apparently are.
Putting myself on display? Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes. You're one to talk, with your million galleon wardrobe! You're much more self-conscious about how you look than I am, Malfoy.
I was referring to parading my skin, not my style, the blonde snapped. Just put something on! Put anything on!
Harry said simply, his green eyes glowing with anger. I'm quite comfortable just as I am, thank you.
Fine then, you Gryffindor slut, Draco growled, watching Harry with sharp eyes as he walked over to the black couch and sat stubbornly down. See if I care.
But he did care, care so much that it was an internal struggle not to fetch the other boy's invisibility cloak and throw over his body. Instead he was forced to stare, unable to tear his eyes away, as he picked up the vile and walked over to the leather couch himself.
He sat down quickly, making sure to keep at least a few feet of space between himself and the raven-haired boy, who was staring into the fire. The flickering orange light did wonders for his tan skin, allowing it to glow copper in the small room, and his green eyes were vibrant and alive with the reflection of the flames within them.
Draco jumped slightly when the other boy turned to him, his face calmer now, almost friendly.
Is that it? he asked quietly, motioning toward the vile in the blonde's pale hand. I bet you're eager for me to try it. Hoping it'll kill me, I suppose.
I can think of more honorable ways to kill you than with your own ruddy, fucked-up potion, Draco answered, some of his usual venom draining away. I don't know what it'll do, but I doubt that it will result in death. You're not that miserable with Potions.
Why thank you, Harry replied sarcastically, holding out his hand. Just give it to me, won't you? We'll see what it'll do.
Draco said quickly, handing off the vile. Just keep in mind what it's supposed to do: it's an adrenaline potion, meant to increase your senses greatly; sight, sound, scent. Unless you really screwed it up, it should be some variation of that.
Harry said, staring down at the blue liquid held in his hand. He uncorked the vile, lifting it in the air. To you, my great teacher! I could never have fucked this up without you.
Just drink the damn thing, Draco snapped, sliding away another few inches. The sooner he tries it, the sooner we can both go our separate ways.
Harry brought the small vile to his lips, downing its contents quickly. He swallowed thickly, a look of disgust forming on his face as it slid down his throat. He swallowed spit a few more times, getting rid of the taste, waiting ...
But nothing happened.
Feel any different? Draco asked after a few long seconds. Harry shook his head, his wet hair sending a few drops of water into the air.
Not at all, he answered, frowning. Maybe I messed it up so badly that it doesn't do anything to its drinker!
Even you aren't that lucky, Potter, Draco drawled. He kept his eyes locked on Harry, waiting for any adverse effects to appear; abnormal swelling, a sudden rash, boils, a dramatic change of skin color ... but nothing became visible.
Harry sighed with relief, sinking deeper into the black sofa. Draco shook his head, trying his best to look disheartened that he wouldn't be dragging his student up to the hospital wing after all.
That's disappointing, he said tartly, standing and walking over to the desk, where he began to clean up the remaining potion and the rest of his potion-making set. I was hoping you'd at least cough up some blood ...
Oh, shut it Malfoy, Harry snapped from the couch, glaring once again into the fire. His skin was beginning to dry, its clean scent wafting up to his nose ... the scent of own skin, mingled a bit with fresh sweat ... all overpowered by a hint of the perfumed soap he'd found in the shower, and beneath that ... the smell of strawberry-scented lubrication ...
Wait a second ...
Harry sniffed the air, gasping when he was suddenly overwhelmed by scent: the ash of the embers, the woody smell of the burning fire, the musky leather, the dank dungeon air ...
Uhm, Malfoy? he whispered, turning toward the other boy. He had his back turned to Harry, his hands busy as they put away the potion-making kit piece by piece. He could sense the reeking, varied ingredients of the kit, the dust on the bottles ... and then, above all of it ...
The scent of smooth, pale skin, perfumed by lavender bodywash and vaguely scented with old cologne .. his skin was a smooth scent, a mix of cream and ginger, vanilla and cinnamon ..
What is it, Potter? the boy snarled from the desk, and Harry immediately winced, clasping his hands to his ears.
Don't talk so loud! the raven-haired boy cried. He could have sworn that he had just heard Draco shout across the room, his harsh voice still echoing in his ears.
What are talking about, Potter, I barely raised my voice, the blonde snapped, spinning around. He frowned deeply, however, when he took in the sight of Harry protecting his ears, a hushed wincing sound emanating from his lips.
Are you all right? he spoke, careful to keep his voice so far below a whisper that only a person inches away could hear his words. Is the potion taking affect?
Harry breathed, closing his eyes in pain. Your voice, it's giving me such a headache .. please be .. softer ..
It's not my voice, Draco whispered, walking over to the couch. Your mind is overwhelmed with too much sensation. The overload is expressing itself through pain.
Harry winced, bending forward so that he was folded into a cross between a fetal and sitting position. He gently rocked his head, his skin paling as he tried his best to block out the hundreds of sounds and smells bombarding his mind.
Draco watched him from a few feet away, standing above him. His eyes had softened from irritation to a subdued sort of compassion, traces of guilt forming to lace his usually reckless heart. He had forced him to take the potion ... it was his fault that the other boy was needlessly in pain now.
His mind attempted to rationalized the choice ... the potion should wear off in an hour or so, most likely less ... it was his own fault, he created it incorrectly with his own hands ... he'll never learn the art of potion-making if he can't understand the delicacy of the subject ... but hidden in the beating within his chest, feeling prevailed.
He felt guilty as all hell.
I'm sorry, Potter, he whispered regretfully, sitting himself down on the couch next to the unmoving boy, taking care to place several feet between them.
Harry whispered, the word leaving his lips in a quiet hiss.
Do you want me to take you up to Madame Pomfrey? Draco asked quietly, looking him over with tense silver eyes. You're in pain. Surely she can give you something for your headache.
How long .. will it last? Harry gasped, the hands clasped over his ears tangling into his raven hair, scraping his scalp. Draco saw this and frowned more deeply, his body stiffening in alarm.
Somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour, he answered honestly. Since you seem to have gotten the basic intention of the potion down, the time frame should be the same. Perhaps longer rather than shorter, though .. since you made the potion stronger than it's supposed-
Not worth it then, Harry whimpered, interrupting the blonde. He was unable to follow too many words in one go, his head throbbing with pain. I'll stay .. here .. until ..
Draco said quickly, his face drained of blood. His heart pounded within his chest, and he frowned at the strange feeling over taking him .. an estranged mix of guilt, and above that .. a strong desire to fix what he had done .. to ease some of the raven-haired boy's unfair pain ..
I'll be right here with you, he continued suddenly, the words tumbling from his mouth without having been first considered in his mind. You'll be fine.
And with that, he reached out his hand, resting it gingerly on the other boy's shoulder. He brushed his palm over the tense muscle there, rubbing his thumb softly across his shoulder blade.
Harry gasped, his eyes opening at the touch. Immediately, warmth flooded his body, the sensation the touch created akin to pleasure far deeper than that summoned by any self-created orgasm he'd ever had.
He groaned, letting his eyes slide closed once again. Draco jerked in surprise, not expecting that kind of reaction from the other boy - he'd been ready for a rejection, in all honesty - but kept his hand steady none the less.
You okay? he asked tentatively, still gently stroking Harry's shoulder with his thumb.
You're so warm, Harry mumbled, feeling his body sink into a thick feeling of physical contentment. And you smell .. like so much .. human and vanilla, and spices and .. mmph ..
Ehrm, yes, Draco stuttered, feeling heat rush into his cheeks. But are you in pain?
Harry murmured, his body growing limp as his heart began to pound. No, just .. your voice doesn't hurt anymore ..
Draco frowned deeply, his eyes taking in the other boy. He felt panic swell in his chest; the other boy didn't appear to be thinking over anything that came out of his mouth.
The potion might be causing you to hallucinate, Harry, he said warningly, sliding unconsciously closer to the raven-haired boy. I want you just to relax. Don't think about anything. Just relax.
Harry whimpered, still feeling deliciously alive with the heightened sensation of the blonde's touch. He sighed, following his nose to the other boy's scent as slowly, yet without any hesitation, he slumped over and nuzzled his head into the other's shoulder.
Draco froze, his jaw dropping as he stared down at Harry's limp body, half-curled onto his own. The raven-haired boy's head was resting against his shoulder, the jet-black strands spilling onto his pale neck.
What are you doing, Potter? Draco forced himself to utter, whispering under his breath. His body was tense, stiff and frozen, a stark contrast to that of the other boy, whose breathing was slow and calm.
So warm, Harry murmured, sighing both from exhaustion and subdued happiness. And your scent .. mmm .. and ..
Draco gasped as the other boy suddenly licked his neck, biting his flesh gently before letting his head to drop lifelessly once again onto his shoulder.
he murmured into his neck, leaving Draco to stare out into the dying fire with wide eyes and slightly trembling hands.
He's completely out of it, Draco .. get your delusional mind out of the gutter.. you are not enjoying this. It's wrong, and it's your own goddamn fault that you're stuck in the middle of it with him ..
His cheeks were burning, his breath quickening as he felt Harry's warm breath condense on his throat, steady and slow. He looked down at the boy, blinking at his moist, parted lips.
He's warm as well .. and bloody adorable .. gods, no! You need to deny .. to deny this .. deny it all .. not happening .. never going to happen, not happening now ..
Still alive, Potter? Draco murmured, his voice muffled by the dark, tousled hair just underneath his lips.
Harry sighed, a sigh that was, in Draco's mind, peaceful and content.
Draco answered simply, sighing himself in a much more miserable way. He silenced his mind, pushing away every thought - he couldn't bear the mental struggle any longer. Instead, he let go, a deep calm settling around him.
Oh, screw this. It's happening.
He turned his eyes back to the raven-haired boy resting atop him, his silver orbs glowing with the reflection of the fire. He reached out his hand, cupping his tan cheek and stroking it gently with his thumb.
He then leaned forward, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips firmly to those of the other boy.
Harry stirred, his eyes fluttering open for a moment and then closing once again as he relaxed, letting Draco's lips move gently against his own. He whimpered at the contact, heat rushing though his body like a flood of warm water, stirring his insides blissfully. He lifted his own head as much as he could, pressing his lips back, moving them slowly as longing settled within him.
He winced when Draco pulled away, comforted only by the fact that his thumb was still slowly stroking his cheek. He opened his eyes, locking his green orbs with the flickering silver above him.
In the back of mind, his rationality was screaming that it was wrong, terribly wrong ... but in the face of reality, a moment of pure comfort and contentment, the voice was little more than a whisper.
Why did you do that? Harry breathed, his lips fading from a near-smile to a curious frown.
Don't talk, Draco soothed, moving his hand gently from Harry's cheek to his warm throat. I told you, just relax. I won't do anything to hurt you.
the raven-haired boy murmured, the world above him drifting in and out of focus. He gasped gratefully when Draco leaned down for a second kiss, capturing his lips between his own. He kissed back eagerly, lifting a hand to weakly grasp the blonde's shirt.
You can trust me, Draco breathed when they broke apart, smirking for a moment as Harry caught his breath. Then he kissed him again, and again and over again, moving soft lips against his own until his heart was pounding, his body limp against that of the other boy, his breathing heavy and his mind blank. He could feel his arousal aching beneath the towel, and he wished for a moment that his mind was not so blurry .. he wanted to think, to understand ..
Why was this happening?
Draco's lips pulled away from his own, warm and moist and deeply flushed from the minutes of bliss they had just shared. It was simple, and it was in nowhere near enough, but somehow Harry could see just from looking into the other boy's terrified silver eyes that it was all that he could handle.
You okay? he whispered, blinking his green eyes. Draco looked down at him, startled, and frowned.
he whispered distantly, his hand running gently through his raven hair. Harry complied, letting his eyes drift closed, the sound of the other boy's heartbeat steady in his ear.
He opened his lips to say something, but suddenly found that he could not think of the words, nor indeed any word at all. He breathed out, sighing as exhaustion overtook him, the scents and sounds and touch of the world fading into blackness.
Draco stared down at the boy who lay clumsily on his shoulder, breathing shallowly in a steady rhythm. He was asleep, he could tell, the strain of the potion having finally overtaken him.
You used him.
He let his hand continue to run through the other boy's hair, his eyes locked on his flushed, vulnerable face and swollen, parted lips.
Sleep well, you damn perfect fool, he whispered, sighing as he turned his silver eyes to the dying fire, now little more than a pile of ash and glowing orange embers.
If only it could be real.
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I am all sick-ish this morning, blargh. I actually finished this chapter last night, but I had such a headache and felt so I'm going to puke-ish that I just collapsed in bed and decided to proofread the chapter ... well, right now.
Much love to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the best. I hope you enjoyed this chapter ... I hope that it wasn't too fluffy as well ... I tried my best. Speak to you all again later ... have wonderful days ... sigh, oww.
Damn headache. I wish I were Harry, I could use some kisses myself ...
