Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.
Disclaimer:
Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.
You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...
"I need to talk to you."
The familiar sound of Draco's voice caused Harry to clench his fists and punch.
It was like the instant of the Bludger being hit, clean and pure, except that Harry slammed his fist into Draco's face instead.
Draco staggered backwards, instinctively grabbing his wand from his pocket. It came up in a silvery arc through heavy air and came to rest against Harry's throat.
Draco was gasping with shock, and a red blaze burned on his cheek, his wand vibrating against Harry's skin.
"I really don't want to hit you back, Potter," Draco whispered. "It would make such a mess." His eyes widened when he saw what his hand was doing.
His fingers opened, and his wand fell with a clatter. He put a hand up to cradle his cheek, thinking that the contact between them had broken. He eased away from Harry, his free hand hanging heavily and his fingers thick and clumsy, but Harry followed as if magnetised.
As soon as Harry was close again, Draco saw it and smelt it, a sharp, feral scent. His hands came up to show submission but Harry misread the gesture, caught Draco's wrists and held them down. The force of it made Draco wince with pain.
"Why not? You've already hit me once today."
"Hit you? I was stopping you--"
"Stopping me from catching the Snitch, I know!"
"No! There was a Bludger coming straight towards you!" Draco insisted. It came out too loud, almost a shout. "I stopped you from getting hit!"
"Yeah, right! Why would you do something like that for me?"
"I didn't want you to be hurt."
Harry's fists tightened around Draco's wrists, white-knuckled, a terrible reflex. He snorted with fake laughter. "Too late, Malfoy."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't want to hurt you; I've never wanted you to be hurt."
"Even though you did all that to me?" Harry jerked his head, pinning Draco with narrow eyes. He was close enough for Draco to see the tiny veins that netted the whites of them.
"You tossed me aside the morning after we-- literally tossed me aside. I hit the wall. It really hurt."
"You are faultless, Harry. Too good to be treated like that. I'm sorry."
"Why did you do it?" Harry was angry still, and he wanted to hurt Draco. His grip on him tightened further, and Draco allowed it, offering no resistance to Harry's sharpness, but all the time thinking that it would work out in the end. Harry's fury would diminish, he would accept what had happened and allow it to be put in the past.
"I was scared."
"Scared." Harry's mouth formed the word stiffly. "That's what Ginny said to Dean. She cheated on him because she was scared. It doesn't excuse what she's done. What you've done."
"I know. It was wrong." Draco was reasonable, even magnanimous. "I want you back."
"She said that too. 'It was wrong. I miss you. Give me another chance'," Harry recalled. "Who'd have thought a Malfoy would have something in common with a Weasley? I suppose that makes you scared too."
"No, we're alike. We were both stupid, only I was worse than her. I've been stuffing things up with you since we were eleven."
"Exactly. I should have known that we wouldn't work out. It was all a mistake."
'It was a mistake. The plan was the biggest mistake of my life,' Draco thought, and the idea, strangely, comforted him. 'I'll do it right. I'll do it right this time.'
"Were you seeing someone else? Was that it?"
"No."
Technically innocent, but the smooth surface of honesty was so undetermined with the burrowing of despair and disseat that it had to collapse soon.
Harry saw that Draco's answer was the truth. Or at least near enough to the truth to allow his face to blaze with indignation.
"Where did you get that idea from? Let me guess, it was another thing that Weasley said," Draco continued.
Harry's head gave a wobble of outrage, and he let go. "Foolish Gryffindors and the foolish things that they say!"
He swung his fist and smashed it into the corner of Draco's eye. The pain lit a phosphor-white blaze in Draco's head.
Harry then took Draco by the throat and shook him. They staggered, locked together, and fell over in an untidy heap on the floor.
In the mist of momentary surprise and confusion, Draco leaned forward, dipping into space, swimming through nowhere until his mouth connected with Harry's. Warm, solid and a surprised hiss of indrawn breath. He pressed closer, willing Harry with all of himself not to recoil, or worse, try to strike him again.
There was a surge of delight when Harry began to kiss him back. He sucked the inside of his cheeks to stop his lips curving in triumph.
The kiss was awkward at first, as if they were tasting a dish they had once overindulged in. Then all too soon, it became a matter of scraped mouths and clashing teeth. Messy and imperative, like drinking when thirsty. Only it made them thirstier still. It wouldn't be enough, even if they drank until the water ran out of their mouths.
The kiss ended when Draco's hands, tangled with Harry's clothes, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
He kissed Harry again, sliding his hands over the exposed skin.
Harry's skin was like satin. It was extraordinary after so much roughness and brutality to feel smoothness and warmth that seemed ready to melt at his touch.
Harry dropped his head, and Draco felt his lips and tongue against his neck, hot enough to burn skin.
He stared over Harry's heaving shoulders, and in a blinding instant, the room seemed full of people who crowded in to watch them.
The idea of sex, old sex, all the teeming sequences and varieties of it, was revolting and threatening.
The thought of it disgusted him. It seemed like it was all around them, oozing and creeping, contaminating what was supposed to be clean; what belonged to Harry and him.
Blaise always making eyes at Finnigan. Weasley and Corner hiding amongst the shadows of the Astronomy Tower. And another image: two people spread out, naked legs wound together, and a noise, the same sound, two voices.
"We can't do this. Not here." He took Harry's face between his hands, forced him to look at him.
Harry's eyes were heavy, and his mouth was swollen. "Everyone's gone. We're alone."
"It's not that, it's this place. It's so impersonal, makes this different." Draco's voice had come out as a croak. He was struggling to maintain control.
Harry wasn't listening. His fingers were at Draco's belt, clumsily unpicking the tongue from the heavy buckle. It was an unwelcome action, but it still excited Draco. He stammered. "I don't want this here."
"Yes, you do." Harry moved closer against him, lithe and taut, like a cat. His hands travelled downwards. "See?"
"No, Harry," Draco said urgently. He grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, just as if he really were a cat, and pulled him back. "We're going to a proper place, a bed. My room is closest. We can only do this there."
---
There was a seductive shimmer to the air inside of Hogwarts Castle.
The implacability of the fall and rise of the slight new breeze was soothing, and Blaise watched the movement of the fluttering green drapes until he felt he had become a part of it.
Dreamily, he thought, 'I could just lie here and let it carry me away.'
His smooth dark hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, but he made no attempts to sweep it back. He was sweaty, exhausted, and his whole body felt as if a hundred thousand new nerve endings had just been connected.
He luxuriated in Seamus's heat on his skin; the warmth of him was radiating up from his body and entering Blaise's bones. The nakedness, the warmth on every inch of Blaise's skin felt magnificent.
He could smell Seamus's sweat, and the muskiness of it relaxed him. He eased them both further under the bedcovers with a sigh of satisfaction, settling down for sleep.
Seamus's head rested on Blaise's chest. He could hear the steady pounding of Blaise's heart, and when he moved his fingers, he traced the outline of Blaise's mouth and the curve of his nose, knowing the features by touch as intimately as he knew his own.
"I missed that." When Blaise spoke, his voice resonated within the arch of his ribcage and Seamus moved his head a fraction to press his ear closer to the sound. It was like hearing two voices, the inner and the outer. He simply rubbed his cheek against Blaise's sweaty shoulder in response.
The depth of the moment was crystalline and absolute, without the smallest possibility that it would be shattered in the next second by a loud banging of fists at the door.
"FUCK, IT'S LOCKED! BLAISE, OPEN THE DOOR!"
"That's Draco. He sounds mad." Blaise exhaled sharply through his nose. Through the thick wood panels of the door, he could hear Draco's erratic breathing.
'Draco couldn't do it,' his inner voice insisted. 'It didn't happen.' He shook his head to drive away the thought.
There was no ready explanation to be found for what had gone wrong with the plan or Draco, Blaise added meticulously. It wasn't that he blamed Draco for being difficult; there had been too many wrong expectations placed on him. All his life, he had been struggling to make himself fit a predetermined shape.
Concern about Draco and Potter distorted the room's generous proportions and made them loom around him, sharp with threatening edges.
The air itself tasted thin, as if he couldn't draw enough of it into his lungs to make his heart beat steadily. Blaise had grown used to this feeling recently, but familiarity never lessened the impact.
"You told me that everything was fine!" Seamus moved his head so that his cheek was no longer touching Blaise. "You told me that you took care of it!"
"I did take care of it!"
"Then what is Malfoy yelling about then?" Seamus was suddenly upright, pulling back the covers and swinging out of bed.
"I KNOW YOU AND FINNIGAN ARE IN THERE! I CAN HEAR YOU! OPEN THE DOOR AND YOU BOTH BETTER BE FULLY CLOTHED!"
Blaise groaned and began groping around blindly for his discarded clothing.
"If Harry's not okay…" Seamus grumbled, his voice trailing away as he slipped his rumpled t-shirt over his head. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his socks with his back to Blaise, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"I'm in big trouble," Blaise finished Seamus's sentence and gave a long sigh. He stood up, not in any great haste, and in one fluid movement hoisted and buckled his jeans.
"BLAISE ZABINI! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"
"You said we have to be dressed before I do!"
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
Blaise stuffed his feet into his trainers, stumbled over to the door and fumbled with the knob before swinging it open.
"Well, when you told me to 'piss off with Finnigan', what else did you think we were going to – shit! Draco, what happened to your eye?"
Blaise's own eyes grew to twice their normal size at the sight before him. He stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth agape.
Draco's left eye was puffed up, the skin crimson and shiny. A large bruise with oozing margins ran from the centre point of his cheekbone to the corner of his eye.
There were purple marks like flesh bruises showing through the skin on his neck, and he was clutching something desperately in his arms, as if it were a rope that someone had thrown him across treacherous water.
Blaise blinked.
It was Potter.
Potter's top lip was swollen and prickled with beads of sweat, and his hair was standing out more than usual with a piece of blanched broom tail twig caught in it.
Both boys were only dressed from the waist down and appeared to be having severe breathing difficulties, their scarlet chest having in unison.
Just-fucked was the phrase that came to Blaise's mind, but the large bulges jutting from their trousers suggested otherwise.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Draco screeched, pushing past Blaise and dragging Potter into the room.
"Let me get this straight," Blaise demanded, overcoming his initial shock. "You bang down the door, demanding that we get dressed and then charge in half naked!" He gestured to Draco's creased and dusty attire. Appearances had always been crucial to his friend up until this point.
"You and Finnigan always get this room! It's our turn now! Get out!"
"Where are we supposed to go?" Seamus asked from his position on the bed. He had paused halfway in slipping on his shoes, his shocked expression replaced by one of relief and amusement.
"Gryffindor tower, the bottom of the lake, I don't care! Just get out!"
"You're not the only person who didn't get any this week, you know." Blaise was smiling in exactly the same way as Seamus, as if he was holding back from saying something that would be much more irritating to Draco.
"We'd both be getting it a whole lot faster if you'd piss off!"
"Okay, you can have this room." Still smirking, Blaise let out another sigh.
"Thanks, but I wasn't waiting for your permission. FOR FUCK SAKE FINNIGAN, COULD YOU TIE THAT SHOE LACE ANY SLOWER?"
"Why, yes actually, I could--"
"If you're not out of here in five seconds, I'll do to you what I did to Theodore Nott!"
Seamus picked up his other shoe and scurried out of the room with it in hand, Blaise following closely behind.
---
The moment Blaise closed the door behind him, Draco propelled Harry backwards and hoisted him onto his bed. Immediately, Harry twisted his legs around Draco's waist to hold him.
Harry undid the zip of Draco's trousers. Everything was fine there. When Draco didn't make the corresponding move Harry undid the zip and buttons of his own jeans and lifted his hips, encouraging him. He needed to be joined to Draco, just as he needed to breathe and eat.
Draco tilted upwards on his elbows, looked down at him and sighed. He was squinting, because he could only open one eye.
"You've stopped. Why have you stopped? Is it your eye?" Harry put his finger up to touch the place.
"No."
"I really should take you to the hospital wing."
"It's just a small bruise. I'll be fine. You've given me worse before."
"Merlin, I shouldn't have--"
"I've given you worse before. I'm not going anywhere, not now."
"Okay then." Harry arched his hips to push higher and harder.
Another sigh. "Harry, I am not going to do this."
Surprise made Harry jerk backwards, and the back of his head hit the wall.
"Ouch," he murmured and rubbed it with his hand. "Why not?"
"I don't think it is right." Draco reached out and picked the twig out of Harry's hair, separating it from the dark strands so as not to pull on them.
"You changed your mind again. You don't want me back." Harry took the twig from him and tetchily cracked it between his fingers.
"Don't be silly. Of course I do."
"Well, come on then." Harry tried to smile saucily at him, but his lips seemed to get stuck.
"No."
"What's the matter?"
Gently, Draco put his hands on Harry's waist, stroking them upwards, splaying his fingers so they rested in the indentation between his ribs. "Before, you were just the Boy Who Lived. Now I know you, you are Harry to me."
He gathered Harry up and rolled adroitly so that Harry ended up on top. "I want everything with you, everything from you."
Harry understood and immediately objected to what Draco was suggesting. "I can't. I don't know what to do. I've already hurt you."
"I'll tell you." There was a pleading note in Draco's voice. He seized Harry's wrist, hard, then turned it over, and with infinite gentleness, kissed the thin skin where the pulse beat. "It will be fine."
Lust scraped away Harry's insecurities. Sex had flown in and unbalanced them both. "Okay."
"Okay." Draco repeated. "Now, put your arms around me. Here. Touch me. Take this off. Wait. I'll do it…"
There was a tangle of leftover clothing, the creak of Draco's belt and a soft thump from Harry's trainers, and then they were naked and enveloped in each other.
"What do I do?" Harry's mouth came close to Draco's ear, as if even here in Draco's bed they might be overheard.
"I used a charm last time, but I keep a tube of lubricant in my bedside cabinet. We can use that."
Harry's mouth curved in a nervous smile against the skin beneath Draco's ear, causing him to shiver. "I'll get it then."
Harry quickly sat up and began rummaging through Draco's drawer, his hands shaking with anticipation.
Draco lay with his head propped on one hand, memorising the chain of bone that formed on Harry's spine, and the lean hips, and the shadow of his ribs showing through his flushed skin.
Harry could feel Draco's gaze on him and trembled with the longing to be touched by him again.
He located the tube and ripped off a loose piece of parchment that had been stuck to it. He was about to discard it when he noticed it had his name on it.
"Hurry up, Harry."
Harry looked up and saw Draco's pale, pointy face through a fog of rage. It was as if all the capillaries had suddenly burst inside his skull, flooding his brain with black blood and madness.
He screwed the piece of parchment up into a ball and threw it aside. With a single swoop of his arm, he lunged across the bed, and with all the weight of his body behind it, he slammed his knuckles deep into Draco's injured eye.
He hit out, and hit again. Draco went down instantly, and when Harry looked at him, he saw that his face was split wide open. There were teeth and bone in a mess of blood, and Harry was certain that he had killed him.
Sick horror and a wash of memories from the war rose up in him, and he staggered backwards, hands up in a vain effort to shut out the sight.
Then he blinked, and looked again. He was still holding the parchment. Draco was still looking patiently at him. His hands shook.
He jerked his eyes away from Draco and the parchment, and gathered his thoughts.
Leave now. The words pulsed in his head, taking on neon-light colours that hurt the inside of his eyes. Just leave, get out of here and away from this.
The blood still hammered in his head. He eased himself off the bed and snatched up his jeans.
Draco raised himself on one elbow. "Harry, what are you doing?"
"You can see what I'm doing."
"I told you, we don't need to go. I don't need the infirmary. Get back in bed." Draco was disoriented, dizzy from lust.
"We aren't going anywhere. I am." Harry stuffed the parchment into his pocket.
Draco followed the movement and gasped. He understood everything that was happening instantly. Physical desire flipped into panic.
He bent down sideways and picked up his own trousers, briefly holding them in front of his chest as if they were a piece of body amour, ready for the anticipated onslaught.
"It's brilliant really, when you think about it, a perfect ruse. I should have expected no less from a Slytherin." Harry looked around for his shirt. It was missing, he realised. He had left it in the changing room. It didn't matter.
"Harry, let me explain. It's just one of those dumb things, it doesn't mean anything."
"It's just a Slytherin thing? Something you all do for a bit of a laugh. It's not very funny."
"Harry, please listen to me. It wasn't like that, okay?"
"Really? What was it like? Zabini making it with Seamus was all you were after when you planned this?"
Draco said firmly, "I never had any interest in Blaise's pursuit of Finnigan."
"What was in it for you then?"
"You," Draco said simply, but when he saw that it wasn't enough he continued. "Being with you is unlike anything I have ever known. It wasn't about Slytherin. Well yes, at first it was, alright. But then it changed. I began to care about you."
Harry stared at him. He wanted to have Draco put his arms around him and hear him say that this was all a mistake – not in the guilty, formulaic way that he was saying it now, but in a way that meant he could believe him. And at the same time, he knew that this was utterly unrealistic because he would never be able to believe what Draco told him, never again, no matter what he said. Draco had lied to him and was lying to him now.
"If you cared, you wouldn't have lied." He was dry-eyed, and his voice sounded level. But he didn't feel in control. His stomach churned with nausea, and the palms of his hands were wet. "It's my fault too. I never should have believed you. I never should have agreed to the pact in the first place."
"Harry, just give me a chance to--"
"No. I don't want to be near you anymore. I…I hate you. I hate you."
"No, you don't." Draco replied. "You've just forgotten." But Harry was already out the door.
Draco hadn't forgotten.
I love you.
He wriggled into his trousers and jumped out of bed.
'I'll do it right this time.'
Author's Notes:
Well, you all knew that this was coming, and if you didn't know, then…SURPRISE!
You can complain, but just remember, you all asked for it: 'Make Draco suffer for what he did to Harry, Lucy!' I was only doing what you asked!
You all also asked for a happy ending, and I'm going to do that for you (and me!) as well.
Now, I won't be able to update for awhile (at a crucial point in the story unfortunately), but I know that it won't be an issue for anyone, seeing as you will all be too busy reading 'Deathly Hallows' to care.
As much as I've grown to like and enjoy writing my story, the actual Harry Potter book, and the final no less, is WAY more important. (I might try and squeeze in another chapter before the 21st, we'll see.)
The endings of the last two books were ruined for me, by two people who to this day are still suffering the consequences. So, I'm not leaving my room, answering my phone, or turning on my computer until I have read the very last word.
I am a slow reader, so I might take longer than most people to finish it. When horrible things happen, like Dumbledore dying or Harry dating Ginny, I tend to get mad and need a break from reading.
I put the sixth book in the freezer twice because of the two aforementioned instances; both the book and I needed some 'cooling down'.
So, if Harry, Draco, Ron or Neville (especially Neville!) die in the seventh book, you know exactly where my copy is going – right next to the ice-cream and the frozen peas.
Many, many thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I usually reply to all my reviews, but things are getting pretty hectic at the moment. But please know that I love and appreciate all my reviews, and that they give me great support. You guys rock my socks!
Cupcakes to you all!
:-) Lucy