Chapter Four: Mind Games
Harry's breath halted. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest and his legs immediately began to tremble. He sank onto his bed, not feeling entirely stable. He was going to see Malfoy again tomorrow. And not only that, but Malfoy specifically said to come alone and not to tell anyone. Those two ideas typically either meant that either someone was going to die, or that something was going to happen that wouldn't occur in a classroom setting. Just contemplating the possibilities made Harry's prick twitch.
No. No way. This was not happening. He could not be aroused by Draco Malfoy. He'd always thought he was straight- not that he had anything against being gay, he just never felt like he was. But he had never felt even remotely like this when he was with Ginny or Cho. This was so much more intense- like his nerves were being poked with thousands of needles.
He was shaky and racked with fear, yet desperately wanted more. It was as if he needed the pain to survive- the most exquisite torture. Harry was exhausted- he was sweaty, his muscles were weak from shaking so much, his heart was pounding. But he felt so good. While waiting for Hermione to return, Ron came upstairs.
"Oi mate. You alright? You seemed weird at breakfast this morning, and Hermione's acting funky too," he asked. Harry shot up in panic. There was no way Harry would let Ron know what's going on.
"Oh yeah, I'm good, just tired. I think Hermione's stressed out because her partner for potions is Pansy Parkinson," Harry replied, hoping Ron would believe him.
"Oh wow, that's rough. Who'd you get stuck with? Crabbe? Goyle?" Ron asked. Harry's face went aflame.
"Oh, uh...Malfoy," he muttered, trying to keep his voice level. He had to make sure he didn't seem excited or pleased at all. Ron's mouth dropped.
"Malfoy? I didn't think Slughorn could be that cruel," Ron responded.
"Oh, he's not cruel at all," Harry thought, "In fact, he's my second favorite person right now."
"Yeah, it's bloody torture, being stuck with such a git," Harry said instead. Ron rolled his eyes, evidently believing Harry's lie. Harry's heart began to slow down, relieved that his cover was satisfactory. Ron ranted about Malfoy while Harry put his shoes on, preparing to go to dinner.
"Wanna head down to the Great Hall? I'm starving," Harry asked Ron. Ron nodded furiously, his bottomless stomach never full. Harry pulled his Gryffindor hoodie on and they walked down. When they got there, most of the tables were empty, with only a couple of students at each. Most were still in class like Hermione, so he and Ron had their choice of seats. Of course, Malfoy was sitting alone at the Slytherin table, poring over some books and scrawling on a scrap piece of parchment.
Harry ducked his head to avoid any eye contact and sat down facing away from the Slytherin table. Ron didn't notice Harry's face flushing- he was too busy loading his plate with food. Harry did the same, focusing on ladling the hot soup into his bowl. He poured a tall goblet of pumpkin juice and grabbed a roll from the platter. Ron was already shoveling the soup into his mouth, and Harry joined him, a bit slower though.
As Ron monologued about his Charms lesson, Harry fought to banish any thoughts about Draco. A small piece of him wanted to walk over to the Slytherin table and ask him about the note. However, Harry knew there was no way he could do that. Everyone would know then, and besides, he didn't have the courage to anyway.
Behind him, he heard the sound of Malfoy packing up, sliding his chair back, and walking out. Harry stole a quick glance as he walked out, and to his surprise, saw Malfoy looking right at him. They made eye contact, and Harry thought he saw Malfoy give him a subtle wink. He whipped his head around and watched Ron instead. Harry's previously calmed stomach leapt again.
Just as he was getting it under control, Hermione flew into the hall and crashed into the chair next to him, her frizzy hair wild. Both of the boys startled and knocked the table with their knees, jostling their soup bowls and spilling hot liquid on the table. They quickly grabbed napkins and soaked up the soup before it leaked over the edge of the table.
"What the hell, Hermione?" Ron asked, "Where's the bloody fire?" She smiled apologetically and launched into an enthusiastic rant.
"McGonagall talked to the Head of the Intern Department at the Ministry of Magic and I have an interview next week! I might be able to shadow different department heads, including the Minister himself. This is such an amazing opportunity, I really hope I get it."
The boys congratulated her and finished mopping up their soup. She dropped her book bag on the seat next to her and began to get her own soup. They discussed the different Departments in the Ministry, and which ones would be best to work in. Harry and Ron wanted to become Aurors, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Hermione didn't know what she'd like to do, but the boys dropped sly comments about her becoming the Minister after Kingsley Shacklebolt, to which she blushed furiously and stuttered her disagreement.
They continued a pleasant conversation throughout the rest of their meal and dessert, allowing Harry to be momentarily distracted from his personal developments. However, as soon as they entered the tower again, thoughts of Malfoy flew back in his head. Despite this, he attempted to write his essay for McGonagall, but after an hour and only three sentences on the page, he resigned, instead playing a game of exploding snap with Neville.
After three games and many singed eyebrow hairs, Neville retired to the dorms and Harry lounged back in his chair. There was a fall chill outside, and a crackling fire in the common room. Hermione was drafting a letter to her parents, and Ron was rereading his completed Charms essay on the uses of a Fidelius Charm. When Ron finally stowed his parchment away, Harry asked if he wanted to mess around for a bit on the Quidditch pitch.
Ron agreed, and they went to pull on their warm Quidditch robes. Once Harry kicked off the ground, he was immensely pleased with how clear his head felt. It was as if he left all his confusing, muddled thoughts on the ground. They spent around half an hour flying, messing around with the Quaffle, but not really practicing. Once they felt chilled to the bones, they locked up their brooms in the Quidditch shed and walked back up to the castle.
Ron didn't stay up much longer, just bid them good night and ascended the staircase to the dorms. Once Ron was gone, Hermione set aside her parchment and stared at Harry. He knew what was coming, and quickly shook his head. The common room wasn't empty yet, and Seamus was sitting way too close.
She smirked and pulled her parchment back in front of her. Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, all the freedom he found on the pitch entirely gone. So many different ideas were flying around in his head. His dream, Draco's expression at breakfast, everything that happened in Potions, the note, the wink at dinner. Everything seemed to mean one thing, but Harry couldn't let himself believe it.
He didn't know what exactly he wanted the truth to be, but there was a definite possibility that he wanted Malfoy. Even just thinking about Malfoy being his made shivers run up his spine. Could it be that Malfoy wanted him? What if he was thinking about being Harry's? Or Harry being his? Then Harry noticed that his prick was growing in his trousers- he was already semi-hard. Panic coursed through his veins- what if Hermione noticed?
He frantically tried to get it to calm down, thinking of boring Transfiguration lessons. The droning sound, elaborate vocabulary, and intense boredom. Thankfully, this worked, and his member calmed down, just as the common room emptied out. As soon as Seamus left for the dorms, Hermione returned to her staring.
"I suppose you want to see the note, eh?" He asked. She nodded enthusiastically, and he slid the note across the table. She unfolded the paper, read the words quickly, and looked up at him, her eyes shining. He smiled shyly and she grinned.
"You want to see him, eh? Aloooooone too," she teased. He glared at her, but couldn't stop smiling.
"What do you think will happen?" he asked her. She thought for a moment, then responded nervously.
"Well, I don't know what will actually happen, but I know that he likely wants to do the same things you do. And even if nothing happens tomorrow night, you'll at least get closer. Besides, he couldn't keep his hands off you in Potions. I bet that by the end of the year he'll make a move."
Harry's heart pounded at these words. Malfoy, making a move on him? That sounded so enticing. But he didn't want Hermione to know what exactly was going through his head, so he said good night to Hermione and climbed up to the dorms. But instead of climbing into bed, he grabbed his pyjamas and went into the bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower, and stripped down, freeing his excited member. Once the water got steamy, he stepped in, now fully hard.
The hot water ran down his body, leaving glistening droplets on his chest. He poured some soap on his hand, but instead of cleaning himself, he wrapped his palm around his shaft, the soap sliding on his skin. He glided his hand back and forth over his prick, first slowly, then speeding up, building the intense pressure.
He thought of Draco, his lightly muscled body, sexy tousled hair, and what could happen when they were alone tomorrow night. It usually took him a while to bring himself to the edge, but he was already there, the pressure deeply intense, his body begging for sweet relief. As his hand flew over himself, he thought of Draco walking up to him, his messed up hair dangling in his face as he placed one hand on Harry's hip, the other on his face, and pressed his lips against Harry's.
He exploded, a wave of relief pulsing through his body. His legs trembled and he braced himself against the shower wall, biting his lip to keep from moaning. He was empty, but the feeling still racked his body, leaving him shuddering. The taste of blood filled his mouth, the urge to moan so intense.
Finally, the sharpness subsided. His muscles relaxed, pure bliss sweeping through his body. He finished showering, dressed, and climbed into bed. The tension he had throughout the day was entirely gone, and he sank into his pillows, falling asleep with no issue whatsoever. That night, his sleep was unbroken, simple peace, rather than nightmares.