SUMMARY: "Why does this dream have you more rattled than your prior ones?"
Because it wasn't just the dream. It was the dream…and the actions Draco had taken to go further than to just dream. But he shrugged, the movement a blatant lie; and delivered a carefully selected half-truth, "It's starting to take me longer to determine what was real and what was just my imagination."
Draco Malfoy has been dreaming about Harry Potter for exactly five-hundred and ninety-four days. He has dreamed of Harry Potter in every single position his brain could imagine…but dreams can only satisfy for so long.
Lust — the intense longing or desire, sexual or otherwise, e.g. for money or power.
TEASER
Scotland | I'm Terrified, But the Truth is This...
by JessicaDoom
excerpt from full story
"Fuck's sake, Potter," Draco hissed. He shrugged off his robes — "You have to tell a person if a wedding event's attire is something other than standard." — loosened his cravat — "I swear, you still look for ways to vex me on purpose." — and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. This left him in a white dress shirt, a deep red vest, and tuxedo slacks. It wasn't casual, by any means, but it would do. With a long-suffering sigh, he draped his discarded pieces over the stair bannister. They would be wrinkled by the time he returned; it was an absolute travesty, especially since he'd purchased the set specifically for this event.
"I guess I thought you were smart enough to understand an outdoor, summer wedding doesn't require a full set of dress robes?" Harry surveyed his new look, stepping closer. "I think we need to…. Yeah, we do." Before Draco could process their proximity — close, so close — Harry's fingers were in his hair, mussing it up. "Oh, hold still," he admonished when Draco took a step back in surprise, pulling him even closer. Which was fine; Draco could easily lose himself in the smell of that aftershave. "People hook up at weddings, you know." Draco froze at the implication of Harry's musing, holding his breath. Is it still possible this is a date, after all? "And I'm not ashamed to admit I care enough about our friendship to see you get laid tonight." Nope, never mind. Not a chance. "I'm sure you'll find at least one girl at this thing who can look past your personality for the night." He almost physically sighed in renewed disappointment.
"I'm gay," Draco grumbled. He swatted Harry's hands away and attempted to restore order atop his head.
"You are?" Draco was sure Harry sounded surprised. Even though he'd been "out" since he was twelve. Everyone knew it; it wasn't like he tried to hide it. "Huh…well, a bloke, then." Harry shrugged, but he didn't seem otherwise particularly fazed by this new bit of information. Another tick in the Potter's NOT Interested column.
Draco was officially now in a grumpy mood. He gave up on his hair — without a mirror or his hair potion, it was hopeless, anyway — and practically pushed past Harry to get out the back door. He was more than eager to get this event done and out of the way. Given enough time in the bath with a glass of brandy and that nearly-scandalous issue of Witch Weekly (two words — shirtless Quidditch), he might forget this humiliation even happened.
To read the full story, click to the collection's account. The link is in my profile, or you can search users for "SevenShadesofDrarry".
