CHAPTER TWO

Harry was sweating.

It was nearly eight in the morning. He was going to be late for his lectures.

He could not stop dreaming about Draco. If he could not have Draco in reality, then he could at least own his heart in his own world. In his dream, he was doing everything that he'd wished to do. In his dream, not only Draco's heart belonged to Harry, but his entire being. It was heaven.

"Draco-" Harry inhaled quickly.

Draco slowly removed Harry's shirt. He gently caressed Harry's waistline.

"Sh," he demanded. "You don't have to talk. It's better if we let our bodies do all the talking."

Harry's eyes opened wide. He groaned deeply. Draco's hands ran up Harry's perfect torso. He kissed just below the center of Harry's pecks. He ran his tongue up to the left side of his neck, and began to suck tightly. Every other second or so, he would nibble on his pale skin.

Harry's breath was cut short. His heart was pumping loudly. Draco squinted his eyes in pure pleasure. He continued to suck on his neck.

Harry could not take it anymore. He had to have his turn. He grunted as he simultaneously, and violently, pushed Draco against the nearest wall.

"I want to go all the way, Draco," he admitted, in almost a growl. He had to have Draco. He had to be inside of him. He had to own everything.

Harry reached for Draco's pant's zipper. Draco lifted his chin. His sensitive skin was obvious. Harry wanted to own Draco's virginity, as well.

"Harry, you need to wake up," Draco mouthed. He mouthed the words, because his voice belonged to Ron. "Harry, c'mon, you're going to embarrass yourself."

Harry was confused. Everything turned pitch black. He was all alone once more. It was hell.

When Harry woke up, Ron was inches away from his face.

"About time," he complained.

Something felt abnormal. Usually, a bed would feel comfortable. What was he laying on?

"Oh, no," Harry said in disgust.

"You've got to do something about your crush, Harry. You're going to be late now, because you have to take care of your linens."

"Ugh."

He would do something if there was given a sign. If there was a sign that Draco at least shared a glimpse of the same emotion, then it would be a tad simpler. These emotions that he feels are more complicated than those of a female and male's connection. There are more risks. At least Ron understood. But, there is also the possibility of betrayal. What if Ron believed Harry to be a traitor for falling in love with the enemy? Would he be willing to support Harry then? At this point, the only person he worried about losing entirely was Draco. All Harry needed was affirmation.

The sheets were wet, and that declared the obsession. Everyone was already present at their lectures. Harry felt thankful for Ron's loyalty. If he didn't wake him up, then who knows what embarrassing stories Harry would have to come up with.

Ron got Harry a set of clothes together for the day. "I'm not touching that bed, though, Mate."

Harry nodded, partially ashamed.

Half of the day has passed. He has not seen any sign of Draco. Where could he be? In a half hour, it would be lunch time. Everybody would have to meet under the same roof. He would have to be there without any pathetic excuses.

"Harry!" A familiar voice returned from behind. "Harry, where have you been?" The nagging voice crescendoed as did her concern.

He didn't bother to turn around. She was already up to speed with him.

"What do you want, Hermione?" He said, hurriedly and impatiently. He remained courteous and knew she kept her best interests for him.

Hermione gasped quickly, but did not ponder over it too excessively.

"Harry, I need to tell you something important-"

"Not now, I need to find someone," which probably sounded fishy. Maybe it would be best if he created an excuse within the next two milliseconds. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to escort Draco to his office immediately."

She rose a brow as quickly as he bended the truth. "That's just it, Harry." Her curiosity was obvious. She knew that he had fibbed. "Dumbledore has asked me to escort you to his office. What could he possibly need with both of you? Have you both gotten into some sort of trouble? Did he do something to you?"

Regardless of how many questions she asked, her questionnaire bazooka ended as quickly as it started.

"I wish," Harry said. It was every bit of the truth as he could have hoped for. He longed for Draco to do "something" to him - anything, at least. Even if it was to place a single hand against his face for a second, it would suffice. Locking eyes, and figuratively lurking within his soul would be enough. Hell, it would be everything he needed. If Voldemort were to kill Harry today, he would die with the last thought of regret. His regret held the face of the only one who claimed his still-beating heart.

She took it as a promising dare; an indirect, yet harmless threat, even. She found humor in his weak sarcasm. All she allowed to escape was a short giggle. Even that was a little sympathetic.

"I trust you can find your way to Dumbledore's office? You basically live there."

Harry nodded with a smile. His ambitions would have to wait. Draco would have to wait.

Harry was face to face with Dumbledore within minutes. He was sitting behind his desk. Dumbledore held his poker face well, until he opened his drawer. He placed Harry's diary on top of his desk. It slid due to forced friction. Harry could not depict whether it was aggressive, or pure laziness.

Of course, at this very moment, every negative thought pulsed through his mind.

"I know what you're thinking, Harry," he rose his bushy brow.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He read it. He read it. There's no other explanation for this meeting.

"No," he said reassuringly, "I did not read your diary. However, if there is something that you wish to express, or blow off steam, Harry, then by all means. I am all ears."

An awkward moment of silence flew by. He was a father to Harry. There is no way that the Headmaster would turn his own back on his own son.

"Can I tell you a secret, Professor? This is a secret, and my whole life depends on it."

Dumbledore let out a few muffled giggles. He didn't know the half of it.

"Let's say, hypothetically, you fell in love with someone whom you could not be with-"

"So soon, hm?"

Harry magically transformed into a tamato.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Well, that's just it, Sir," he looked at his boring, black shoes. It helped with the anxiety. That's what he wanted to call it, anyways.

"Boy?"

Harry looked up instantly. His face gave it completely away.

"I would name off a few, but the only one that seems likely, would be Ron," he did not let off a hint of disgust, or denial.

"You're not freaked out by me, Sir?"

"Harry, I am as gay as the fourth of July. At least, on some occasions. I get the best of both worlds. Being who I am has its privileges. Severus and I were an item for a semester or two. He ended it when your mother-" His eyes grew wide. "Never mind."

Harry was as confused as he had ever been. "Thank you for understanding, Professor."

"If you wish to have this diary back," he held it in his hand, shaking it with each given syllable.

"You can have it, Sir. I don't think I'll be needing it anymore. Do you mind if I take the picture?"

"Sure, Son." Dumbledore handed the picture back to Harry. Harry bowed, and left the office with utmost confidence. Today was going to be the day. He was going to confess to Draco.