Stay low

Soft, dark, and dreamless,

Far beneath my nightmares and loneliness.

I hate me,

For breathing without you.

I don't want to feel anymore for you.

-Evanescence

Harry's eyes bulged and his entire body went rigid as he saw the face of the elder Malfoy, tight lipped and pale with fury. There was a moment where there was nothing but silence—a moment where Harry was sure that he was simply doomed to be haunted by evil Slytherins for the rest of his life. He should've known not to believe Draco about his father. Lucius wasn't stupid. He must've known that Draco had been lying about the gate. And now, this was it. Lucius was going to see him, curse him, and then, most probably, kill him. Great. Just when I thought I had rid myself of psychotic degenerates who want to kill me, I come here and—and then Draco was on top of him, and all coherent thought flew from his mind.

Harry yelped in surprise as Draco leapt at him, practically slamming his mouth into Harry's. What the hell? Harry moved his hands to Draco's shoulders, intending to push the other boy away, but as soon as Draco's body pressed flush against his own, Harry's hands no longer responded to his commands.

He became lost in a sea of bliss, where Draco's mouth was soft like velvet, and there was nothing beyond the darkness of his closed eyes. Like pounding waves, Draco's lips kneaded against his own, and fingertips like lit matches trailed along the exposed skin at Harry's neck. He didn't bother with being gentle—his touches were firm, and his mouth precise in its movements. Harry quickly discovered there was nothing calm or comforting about the way Draco kissed.

Draco's lips only moved for purpose; they only moved with need. It was if he was pouring himself into Harry, and Harry could do nothing but catch as much as he could. Their mouths parted and a surprising sound escaped through Harry's lips as he once again tasted that exquisite flavor. He felt Draco react to it, delving deeper to pull that noise out of him again. Tongues met and slid against each other with a languid ferocity, and Harry's body rocked feverishly as everything suddenly sharpened, his senses honing in on this one feeling.

Lucius cleared his throat loudly, and all of a sudden Draco's lips were gone. Harry gave a barely audible whimper and attempted to calm his thundering heart and traitorous whispers of electricity that coursed through his blood.

"Father," Draco sounded annoyed, "can't you see that I'm busy here?"

Harry barely noticed how Draco had carefully positioned himself so that Harry's face would remain unseen, or how Draco's hands were trembling against him. For some reason it was far more important to note how unbelievably milky the skin of Draco's neck looked in the light, and how firmly lithe the other boy's body felt against his own. Heat pooled in Harry's stomach. What was he thinking? But he already knew. It was the same thing that had happened in the shower, only now…it was far beyond his control.

"Draco, I want you in my study in ten minutes." Lucius said in hard, glacial tones.

"Ten minutes?" Draco shouted incredulously. "But father, that's hardly enough time to-"

"Ten minutes, Draco!"

Harry heard the door slam and all fell silent except for the pattering sound of labored breathing.

Draco gave a nervous chuckle. "Boy that was a close one eh, Potter? Good thing I'm a fast thinker or that could've escalated quickly. I guess this makes us even for the shower now don't you th—Potter?"

Harry's eyes were still closed, and heat was still coursing through his veins like fire.

"Potter? Are you all right?"

His hands were still at Draco's shoulders, and he could still feel the warmth of the other boy's skin through the thin cotton. It felt like he was suffocating under the heat of the sun.

"You're not going to throw up again are you?"

Harry didn't know—not with Draco's body pressed flush against his own. It was so different from the way Ginny's body felt against him; nothing of soft curves or fluid lines. Everything was sharp and abrupt; every line placed with a hard purpose.

"Harry?" Harry felt a cool, slender hand brush his cheek.

Harry grabbed the hand and forced his eyes open. Draco's face was inches above his own; the normally pale complexion was a glowing pink, and a few silvery strands had fallen out of their proper place. He had never taken time to properly appreciate the pronounced beauty of Draco's face before. He didn't know why he had never noticed. Perhaps it was because he had always been so intent on getting one last punch in before they were dragged apart. All those times when they had been so close—it was like not noticing a rose at the end of a thorny stalk.

Harry too was flushed, embarrassed by the way his body was reacting, yet unable to pull himself away from it. There were no cohesive thoughts running through his mind at this point, only regression and instinct. There was only the molten burning that caused his body to surge with desire, and he couldn't help but shudder as he released a breath.

And then something in Draco's face changed. "So it is a spell."

Harry could barely breathe, much less form a coherent reply. "What is?"

"What you're feeling right now—how you're reacting. Why you feel strange when I touch you." Draco pushed himself up, which only caused Harry to become more aware of the movement he was craving.

Harry made a guttural noise somewhere in between a whimper and a growl.

"It's a lust spell."

"How do you know?"

Draco made to move once more, and Harry hissed as Draco's hips slid against his own. "I just do," Draco said.

Harry took several deep breaths, attempting to clear his fogged mind. "Malfoy, please," he said too tightly, "you have to get off me now. I don't—I don't know what's happening to me. Whatever this spell is…it's strong."

Harry had never read much about lust spells, but now that Draco said it, it did make sense. This uncontrollable, raw desire that coursed through him was as undeniable as it was unconquerable. He felt lost in it, but at the same time…filled by it. But why would a spell like that have been on the Malfoy Manor gate? And why did it have to be Draco Malfoy?

Draco's face became hard and he pressed his mouth into a thin line. "What if I don't?"

"What if you don't what?"

"Get off of you."

Harry hissed and bit his tongue, hoping the pain would keep him grounded. "Stop joking around."

"Do you see me laughing?" Draco's expression was deadpan.

"Malfoy, I don't know how much longer I can fight this!"

"Then don't." And then, after a breathless moment, Draco came down upon him once more, capturing Harry's lips in a bruising kiss.

Harry's hands scrambled to push him back, but his heart was in his throat and his blood felt as if it might burst through his skin. Whatever little remaining control he had was lost.

Sighing, Draco nipped at Harry's bottom lip, allowing his tongue to dance between the parted skin, while smooth hands traveled down Harry's torso and under his shirt. Fingers traveled up his stomach and danced along his ribs, light and torturing. Harry heard himself gasp as he arched into the touch, trying to absorb the feeling of Draco's hands against his skin. Draco's lips, soft as petals, brushed against his cheek, trailing soft kisses down the line of his jaw and onto his neck. Lips parted and sharp teeth grazed against Harry's pulse, making him feverishly dizzy. He felt hot, like the core temperature of his body had risen to the point where he seemed to be melting, and Draco's body was the only thing holding him together anymore. Harry didn't move, not even daring to breathe lest this be some dream that would shatter if touched.

Swift, heated, eager, hungry, wanting; Harry answered Draco, barely aware of his fingers working at the other boy's collar, wanting to feel the damp heat of flesh that was promised beneath. And then Draco's hands were gone from his chest and were suddenly gripping his wrists, pushing his hands away and pinning them to the bed. Draco blanketed Harry's body with his own, and Harry couldn't help but writhe against him.

Draco's mouth moved up to his ear, nipping feverishly at his lobe. "Be still, Harry."

And in a sudden change of pace, Harry felt lips and teeth sink into his neck, sending sharp jolts of pleasure down his spine. Draco's hands moved from his wrists to once again roam Harry's skin, and all he could do was concentrate on that feeling, captured in this one painfully beautiful moment.

Draco's hands worked their way down his torso, bringing the rush of Harry's blood to the surface the closer they came to his trouser line. Fingers danced like fire along Harry's hips, and he let out a low sound of pleasure, soft and weak. He could feel Draco's lips curling against his neck, and Harry's breath caught in a fevered gasp as the blonde's hand moved down between his legs. Harry's hands dug into the sheets, squeezing them tightly as if they could keep the feeling there.

Draco kissed him again, this time long and deep, slowly running his fingers along Harry's hardness…ever so slowly. Maddening. Harry struggled to pull oxygen into his lungs as heat and electricity wove themselves into his veins. He would wake up from this wonderful dream any moment now. Any second. Because this couldn't be real. He wasn't supposed to feel like this; so intensely completed by the feeling of Draco's body against his own.

Then Draco's hand changed, wrapping Harry in a lush, slick heat that made his hips leave the mattress. Harry's hands tightened, his nails digging into the soft silk. Distantly, he knew that this was wrong—that something was happening here that could never be undone. But he didn't care. Not now. He couldn't keep a single thought in his head with Draco's hands on him, working an incomparable magic, allowing him to lose himself in the rushing rise of pleasure.

Harry's hips ground against Draco's hand, trying to get more of whatever this was. He wanted it all, to experience this while he could, in case it could never happen again. He wanted this as he had never wanted anything else before; stripped to the raw wire of flesh and heat, singing and aching with desire beyond comprehension.

And yet, he didn't want to be so close, didn't want Draco's hands working so intensely between his legs. He wanted this to go on and on, he wanted to feel like this forever, and yet at the same time, it was all he wanted; release…release from everything. He could do nothing but gasp for breath and moan softly as he felt a familiar heat building inside of him, and he fell into it with a cry, letting it take him—he gave himself to it, letting it drown him in ecstasy.

It was incredible; that fierce ecstatic embrace, their bodies meshed together so intimately, Draco's mouth hot on Harry's neck. Harry had never felt anything like this; this pure unguarded moment.

He had never been able to forget himself before.

And he clung to it as long as he could, but slowly that burning in his veins slipped away, soft and liquid, leaving him drained, heavy, and gasping against the heat of the other boy, listening to that steady heartbeat thumping beneath the thin layers of cloth and skin.

"Draco," Harry breathed, the remnants of what had just happened burning like cinders beneath his skin.

Draco's lips trailed across the skin of Harry's neck and back up his ear, and for the first time, Harry realized how badly the other boy was shaking. "How do you feel?"

Harry sputtered before falling into a breathless laughter. "How do you expect?"

"No, I mean," Draco pushed himself up farther, so that Harry could see the full outline of his face. His brows were pulled together, tense and worried. "Do you feel different now? Does me touching you feel…different?"

Harry stared back at him, feeling as if he was finally settling back into his body. It felt strangely cold. "I don't understand."

"Does me touching you feel different now?" Draco repeated sternly.

"I—" Harry blinked, dread welling up in his stomach. "No."

Grey eyes widened. "So then…so then you still want…?"

Confusion rippled through Harry's veins. After what they'd just done, he didn't understand how the spell was the first thing on Draco's mind. They'd just…Merlin, they'd just…

Draco sat up abruptly, turning his back to Harry. The line of his shoulders was like a hard barrier. "I thought…I thought that you would feel different after. Merlin, I…"

Something inside of Harry cracked as a realization began crashing in around him. "Malfoy…"

"I messed up—I thought you would—shit," Draco whispered, sounding strained. He turned back towards Harry, his grey eyes shining. "I shouldn't have done that."

Harry's heart slammed against his ribs as he let out a shuttering breath, feeling as if his world had just been torn out from underneath him. Heat rose up into his cheeks and burned behind his eyes as he sat up and righted his trousers. He couldn't bring himself to look back at Draco when he asked, "Then why did you?"

"I thought…" Draco ran his hand through his hair. "I thought it might break the spell. Most of the time a good romp will burn it out of your system."

"A good romp?" Harry repeated bitterly and felt Draco flinch back. "Is that what this was?"

Draco eyed him warily. "What did you think it was?"

"I don't know," Harry snapped, pushing his glasses up and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes."But not that. What just happened…I'd never…"

Draco's responding swallow was audible. "Not with anyone?"

Harry shook his head. Now that Draco wasn't touching him anymore, his body seemed to be caving back in. There were so many things that he knew he should be feeling and yet somehow he couldn't seem to feel a single one. It was as if there wasn't enough room in his head for everything that was swimming through it. He was fairly certain that he should be freaking out on monumental levels—much like Draco was—but everything seemed to have drained out of him and he'd been left to suffocate like a fish out of water.

"Shit. Potter…I didn't know. You have to know that I wouldn't—"

"I know," Harry said tiredly. He let his hands fall down to wrap around his neck, barely resisting the urge to let them slip over his lips. They were still tingling from where Draco had bitten them. It took a moment for Harry to realize that he'd enjoyed it, and another moment for him to realize that there was a high probability that the only reason he'd enjoyed it was because of the spell. There was nothing he could compare it to that would let him know. He had no way to decipher where the spell ended and he began.

Draco threw himself off the bed, drawing Harry's gaze to him once more. A light film of sweat glistened on his pale skin, highlighting the bright dusking of pink on his cheekbones. "So is this it then?"

Harry glared at him. "What?"

"This." Draco gestured at the space between them. "Are we done being…whatever it is that we are? Friends? Did I just royally fuck it up?"

Harry's jaw clenched. "Is that what you want?"

"Of course it's not what I want! But I crossed a line, didn't I? A pretty fucking major one! You would never have consented to something like that if you weren't under the influence of this spell. And I didn't know that you'd never—I mean I would never even have tried anything if I'd known—"

"Stop," Harry hissed, every nerve in his body vibrating painfully from the mere thought of Draco being removed from his life. Gripping the bedsheets he forced the feeling down. "Just stop, alright? I just—this is a lot to sort through."

He just needed time. Time to figure out…to understand what exactly was happening to him, and he needed to understand it before it had the chance to sweep him away again. The only problem was, beyond the one mishap during sixth year, he had no experience whatsoever with amorous spells. But—Harry glanced over at Draco—that didn't seem to be the case with both of them.

"You said that you knew this was a lust spell," Harry said. "How?"

Draco looked at him, his mouth stretching thin. "Well considering the outcome, I don't really think—"

"How?" Harry repeated.

Draco drew in a deep breath. "A few of us experimented with them for a while. Harmless versions though—nothing like what you seem to have."

"Experimented?"

A delicate shrug lifted Draco's shoulders even as the cords of muscle in his neck grew tight. "Between fifth and sixth year we came across a potions book that had a couple of recipes. We were just trying to have a bit of fun," he said. "We kissed, we messed around…it didn't matter."

"How can you kiss someone like that and it not matter?" Harry asked, his blood going hot beneath his skin.

Draco blanched. For the first time, he looked away, his hands sliding against his trousers. "I don't know…"

"Malfoy."

"That's not a question I know how to answer, alright?" Draco said, his voice tight and pained. When his eyes found Harry's again, there was something markedly darker swirling in their depths. "But if it helps, I promise, I won't touch you again until we figure out exactly what this spell is, and how to fix it."

Harry felt the words cut through him, his body reacting to the loss of something he didn't even have. "How in the world would that help?"

"Because," Draco said, "if this spell is something that reacts to touch then we should try not to provoke it. In fact, you should probably refrain from touching anyone if you can help it."

Harry grimaced. "I think it's pretty attached to you if that's what you're worried about," he grumbled.

Draco leveled him with a glare. "Potter, I'm serious."

"So am I!"

Huffing, Draco turned away from him, straightening out his robes. There was still a tremor in the line of his shoulders. "You should probably leave."

Harry felt his chest go tight, surprise ringing in his ears at the sudden shift in the conversation. "What?"

Morning light glistened off of Draco's white blonde hair as he shook his head, brightening the air around him. Something about it made Harry's heart ache. It was terrifyingly beautiful. "My father is expecting me," Draco said slowly. "And I don't know if it's safe for you to be in the manor alone."

"Malfoy—"

"I'll see you next Saturday alright?" Draco said, moving towards the door. "I'll send Tully to escort you off the premises."