“Gotcha!” shouted Harry, grabbing Draco by the front of his robes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Malfoy shouted back at him, “Get off me!”
“No chance,” said Harry, tightening his grip on Malfoy and dragging him through the nearest door, “you’re going to tell me what you’ve been getting up to.” He shut the door of the empty classroom behind them and threw Malfoy into the nearest chair, which he immediately made to get up from, until he saw that Harry’s wand was pointing directly at his forehead.
Draco had beads of sweat on his upper lip, betraying the calm and disdainful expression he wore on his pale face. He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap,
“Where have you been disappearing to?” demanded Harry, pleased to see that Malfoy was now trembling visibly. He slumped in his seat, hands at his sides,
“I’ve got nothing to tell you,” he said dejectedly, “it doesn’t matter now anyway.” This sudden change in Draco’s attitude threw Harry totally, but keeping his guard up he raised his wand again and asked,
“What doesn’t matter anymore? Why doesn’t it matter any more?” he paused, “I heard you talking to Borgin, I know who your new master is.” If Harry was surprised at Malfoy’s sudden despondency, the miserable grimace now spreading over his face spoke volumes,
“Fuck off, Harry.” he said quietly, crossing his arms. Harry’s wand hand wavered slightly, then immediately he realised he was feeling sorry for Malfoy – but also intrigued, to his knowledge Malfoy had only ever used his first name only once before. “I hate you so much, Potter. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s mutual, Malfoy.” Spat Harry bitterly. To his utter amazement, Malfoy began to cry. He turned away from Harry and tried to hide his sobs, by covering his face with his hands. Harry was at a loss as to what to do, his immediate reaction was to console the crying boy, but it was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy crying in his presence.
Harry put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and asked, grudgingly,
“Are you okay?” Malfoy looked up at him, stricken, tears flowing down his face,
“Do I fucking look okay?” he put his hand on Harry’s, then said more quietly, “Don’t yell at me.”
Harry’s mind was in a whirl – had Malfoy gone completely insane, or maybe he was under the Imperius curse, either option was more than likely, and Malfoy hadn’t removed his hand from Harry’s yet.
He stood up, tightening his grip on Harry’s fingers,
“You don’t know how hard it is, Harry,” the name uncomfortable on Malfoy’s tongue, “I said I didn’t want to do it. I said I couldn’t.” before he had a chance to react, Malfoy put his other hand on the back of Harry’s neck, pulled him in close and pressed his lips to Harry’s mouth. Harry pulled away looking horrified, he opened his mouth to speak but Malfoy stopped him,
“Shut up, okay? Just shut up, Potter. Pretend I’m Ron Weasley or something.” he said thickly, and pushed Harry down on to a chair. Harry was dumbfounded, and simply watched agape as Malfoy climbed on to him, one leg either side. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as Malfoy, his enemy, his nemesis, ran his fingers up into the wild shock of dark hair. The boys sat looking at each other; Malfoy, still tearful, idly teasing the ends of Harry’s hair – Harry still shocked and wishing he wasn’t enjoying this sensation. They kissed again, slower this time, gently exploring with lips and tongue. Harry started to get hard, and was somewhat pleased (and thoroughly appalled) to feel Malfoy getting hard as well. Malfoy, whose tears had dried by now, slowly moved up and down in Harry’s lap, pressing their hardness together.
Harry broke off the kiss,
“Draco,” Malfoy’s name being equally uncomfortable on his tongue, “we can’t do this. I can’t do this.” Sudden hatred sprang to Malfoy’s eyes, and he got up off Harry immediately.
“Fuck you then, Potter,” he retorted, raising his voice, “you poof.” He grabbed his schoolbag and ran from the classroom, new tears in his eyes.
Harry sat, perplexed, absent-mindedly feeling the tent at the front of his grey trousers. He realised what he was doing and stood up with a start. He still didn’t know what Malfoy was doing in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor. Thinking of what he had just done, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and hurried off to find Ron and Hermione – they would hear an abridged version of what had just happened.
February 11, 2006
February 08, 2006
Waking Ron
“Go and wake Ron up, would you?” Harry asked Seamus. It was Saturday morning in the common room, and Harry was anxious to get some Quidditch practice in. Seamus looked up from his comic and sighed,
“Yeah I’ll go and wake the lazy sod up.”
He walked through the dorm room and up to Ron’s bed, intent on shouting loudly to give Ron a fright. He pulled the curtain of Ron’s four-poster aside sharply, but before he could scare him, Ron turned over to face Seamus – sleeping soundly. Seamus had never been this close to Ron before, never noticed how beautifully his fringe curled into his eyes, or the length of those adorable blonde eyelashes. Seamus saw that Ron’s bottom lip was wet with spit, and he slowly reached out his finger to touch it. Just then Ron snorted and turned over again, making Seamus jump. He remembered why he was there and shouted at Ron to wake up, that Harry wanted him.
“Yeah I’ll go and wake the lazy sod up.”
He walked through the dorm room and up to Ron’s bed, intent on shouting loudly to give Ron a fright. He pulled the curtain of Ron’s four-poster aside sharply, but before he could scare him, Ron turned over to face Seamus – sleeping soundly. Seamus had never been this close to Ron before, never noticed how beautifully his fringe curled into his eyes, or the length of those adorable blonde eyelashes. Seamus saw that Ron’s bottom lip was wet with spit, and he slowly reached out his finger to touch it. Just then Ron snorted and turned over again, making Seamus jump. He remembered why he was there and shouted at Ron to wake up, that Harry wanted him.
February 07, 2006
After Practice
After a particularly cold and muddy practice, the Gryffindor team were in the changing room putting on clean clothes. Oliver hadn’t let Harry take a shower yet, he was busy drawing confusing lines on a small blackboard, and explaining how he wanted Harry to dummy the other Seeker.
“See you later Harry”, said Fred unenthusiastically. Harry grimaced at him, and the twins laughed.
“Okay Harry, I think you’ve got it now,” said Wood, “off you go to the shower.” Harry heaved a sigh of relief, they were the only ones left in the changing room and he wanted to go back to the common room to see Ron and Hermione, he hadn’t seen them all day, they both said it was too cold to go and watch him practice. He muttered under his breath as he took off his jumper and shrugged his boots off, but was soon imagining sitting at the fire warming up.
Harry turned just as Oliver was taking his trousers off, but immediately looked away. Oliver, with his back to Harry, was oblivious to him looking, and simply carried on taking his clothes off. His t-shirt came next, Harry could not help but watch as Oliver’s back muscles slowly stretched as the t-shirt came over his head. Oliver used the t-shirt to wipe under his arms, then across his forehead. He turned then, and Harry suddenly became very interested in removing a towel from his bag,
“A good practice today, Harry, eh?” asked Wood, now rolling the t-shirt up into a ball. Harry realised he would have to turn around to speak to him, but could see in his peripheral vision that Oliver was wearing nothing but his boxers.
“Yeah, great.” Said Harry, still fumbling in his bag. Oliver turned away then, whistling to himself. Harry relaxed, and carried on unbuttoning his trousers.
“Here you go, Harry,” said Wood, “you dropped your glove.” Harry turned round to take the glove, but Oliver was standing there naked holding out the glove to him. Harry could not help but stare, he’d never seen Oliver naked before, and it was an impressive sight. He was very defined and had a line of hair from his belly button going down…
“Take it then!” said Wood, Harry blushed realising he’d just been blatantly staring at Oliver.
“Thanks.” He mumbled, wishing Oliver would hurry up and go into the showers, there was no way Harry could take off his trousers yet.
“See you later Harry”, said Fred unenthusiastically. Harry grimaced at him, and the twins laughed.
“Okay Harry, I think you’ve got it now,” said Wood, “off you go to the shower.” Harry heaved a sigh of relief, they were the only ones left in the changing room and he wanted to go back to the common room to see Ron and Hermione, he hadn’t seen them all day, they both said it was too cold to go and watch him practice. He muttered under his breath as he took off his jumper and shrugged his boots off, but was soon imagining sitting at the fire warming up.
Harry turned just as Oliver was taking his trousers off, but immediately looked away. Oliver, with his back to Harry, was oblivious to him looking, and simply carried on taking his clothes off. His t-shirt came next, Harry could not help but watch as Oliver’s back muscles slowly stretched as the t-shirt came over his head. Oliver used the t-shirt to wipe under his arms, then across his forehead. He turned then, and Harry suddenly became very interested in removing a towel from his bag,
“A good practice today, Harry, eh?” asked Wood, now rolling the t-shirt up into a ball. Harry realised he would have to turn around to speak to him, but could see in his peripheral vision that Oliver was wearing nothing but his boxers.
“Yeah, great.” Said Harry, still fumbling in his bag. Oliver turned away then, whistling to himself. Harry relaxed, and carried on unbuttoning his trousers.
“Here you go, Harry,” said Wood, “you dropped your glove.” Harry turned round to take the glove, but Oliver was standing there naked holding out the glove to him. Harry could not help but stare, he’d never seen Oliver naked before, and it was an impressive sight. He was very defined and had a line of hair from his belly button going down…
“Take it then!” said Wood, Harry blushed realising he’d just been blatantly staring at Oliver.
“Thanks.” He mumbled, wishing Oliver would hurry up and go into the showers, there was no way Harry could take off his trousers yet.
Insomnia
Two a.m. and Harry was awake again. Why couldn’t he sleep? This was the third night that he’d woken up in the early hours and he was getting really fed up of it. He lay there for a while, his mind going through the day’s events, planning Quidditch moves (replaying the best ones), listening to the other boys snoring and breathing. It was usually Ron making the most noise, that boy snored louder than any of them, but he was quiet tonight. Harry briefly contemplated opening the curtains of his four-poster to check that Ron was okay, that he wasn’t suffocating or something, but he didn’t. Ron had probably gone to the bathroom, or was just having a nice dream.
Eventually, he started to feel sleepy again and was just thinking that he had Charms first thing and he had already finished his homework. He smiled and snuggled further down into his bed when he heard a strangled sob coming from Ron’s bed. He was awake again in an instant, Ron was choking! He ripped the curtains open to check whether his friend was all right.
The moon was nearly full, and sent beautiful silvery rays through the window panes, illuminating the room with a lovely glow. The moonbeams shone full on Ron’s bed and through his open curtains, Harry saw all this in the split second before he saw what Ron was really doing.
He let out a gasp and Ron, who had been sitting on the end of his bed, looked up horrified – hastily grabbing the quilt to cover himself and then pulling the curtains shut.
Harry smiled, despite his shock, and got back into bed then. The night was so quiet, he could hear Ron breathing heavily, trying really hard to make it seem like he was asleep. Harry knew that tomorrow morning Ron would make a big show of being so heavily asleep last night, that he remembered nothing.
Harry would play along, he knew, but he didn’t know what to make of the stirring going on in his pyjamas. He listened to Ron’s breath going in and out of his mouth, rushing over those full, pink lips… Harry was aware that he was touching himself and thinking of Ron’s lips. He sat up with a start, making the bed springs creak; he heard Ron’s breathing stop, as if he was listening. Harry lied back down and pulled the quilts over him, it was too late in the night for this, he would think about it tomorrow. Yes, that would be best.
Eventually, he started to feel sleepy again and was just thinking that he had Charms first thing and he had already finished his homework. He smiled and snuggled further down into his bed when he heard a strangled sob coming from Ron’s bed. He was awake again in an instant, Ron was choking! He ripped the curtains open to check whether his friend was all right.
The moon was nearly full, and sent beautiful silvery rays through the window panes, illuminating the room with a lovely glow. The moonbeams shone full on Ron’s bed and through his open curtains, Harry saw all this in the split second before he saw what Ron was really doing.
He let out a gasp and Ron, who had been sitting on the end of his bed, looked up horrified – hastily grabbing the quilt to cover himself and then pulling the curtains shut.
Harry smiled, despite his shock, and got back into bed then. The night was so quiet, he could hear Ron breathing heavily, trying really hard to make it seem like he was asleep. Harry knew that tomorrow morning Ron would make a big show of being so heavily asleep last night, that he remembered nothing.
Harry would play along, he knew, but he didn’t know what to make of the stirring going on in his pyjamas. He listened to Ron’s breath going in and out of his mouth, rushing over those full, pink lips… Harry was aware that he was touching himself and thinking of Ron’s lips. He sat up with a start, making the bed springs creak; he heard Ron’s breathing stop, as if he was listening. Harry lied back down and pulled the quilts over him, it was too late in the night for this, he would think about it tomorrow. Yes, that would be best.
The Smallest of Glances
Hogsmeade was especially beautiful at Christmastime, the snow settled on all the roofs and made each house look more like an elaborately iced cake. Ron had left Harry and Hermione in The Three Broomsticks while he went to Honeydukes to get something nice to send to his Mum, as she was feeling poorly. The shop was crowded as usual, but much warmer than the freezing cold outside, and Ron hurried through the door.
He soon spotted a gorgeous box of violet-decorated chocolates in a purple box with a ribbon, he was feeling generous at the moment, Mrs Weasley was very unwell, Ron thought it was all the stress with You-Know-Who causing so much destruction – so he reached out to pick the up the box… and brushed a hand that was reaching for the same box.
“Sorry,” began Ron, looking up, “oh, hi.” He said to Silas Slash, a former pupil of Hogwarts a few years older than him. Ron remembered him from school
“Hi,” said Silas, picking up the box and giving it to Ron, “here, you take it, it’s the last one.”
“No, no,” protested a red-eared Ron, “you take it, you were here before me.” Ron was aware that he wanted to impress Silas, and that he wanted Silas to like him.
“Really, you take it.” Silas pressed the box into Ron’s hands, and again their fingers touched, Ron’s ears burned and he lowered his gaze. Silas was still holding one side of the box while he held the other, Silas’ fingertip was still touching Ron’s index finger. He wondered how such a small area of skin could somehow become so sensitive.
“Well, I’d better go,” said Silas, “I’m meeting some friends for lunch.” He let go of the chocolates. Ron said,
“Bye.” Before be could help himself, he didn’t want Silas to go so suddenly.
“Bye, Ron. Enjoy the chocolates.” Said Silas, buttoning his cloak shut and opening the door. Ron stood there, furiously red ears glowing, and his mouth opening and closing. Silas had shut the door, and now stood in the road with snowflakes swirling lazily about him, he turned to look back at Ron in the shop, smiled, winked and was gone.
Ron felt… he didn’t know how he felt, flat, he supposed, maybe a bit sad without really realising why. He turned to the counter to pay for the box of chocolates, wondering how Silas Slash knew his name.
He soon spotted a gorgeous box of violet-decorated chocolates in a purple box with a ribbon, he was feeling generous at the moment, Mrs Weasley was very unwell, Ron thought it was all the stress with You-Know-Who causing so much destruction – so he reached out to pick the up the box… and brushed a hand that was reaching for the same box.
“Sorry,” began Ron, looking up, “oh, hi.” He said to Silas Slash, a former pupil of Hogwarts a few years older than him. Ron remembered him from school
“Hi,” said Silas, picking up the box and giving it to Ron, “here, you take it, it’s the last one.”
“No, no,” protested a red-eared Ron, “you take it, you were here before me.” Ron was aware that he wanted to impress Silas, and that he wanted Silas to like him.
“Really, you take it.” Silas pressed the box into Ron’s hands, and again their fingers touched, Ron’s ears burned and he lowered his gaze. Silas was still holding one side of the box while he held the other, Silas’ fingertip was still touching Ron’s index finger. He wondered how such a small area of skin could somehow become so sensitive.
“Well, I’d better go,” said Silas, “I’m meeting some friends for lunch.” He let go of the chocolates. Ron said,
“Bye.” Before be could help himself, he didn’t want Silas to go so suddenly.
“Bye, Ron. Enjoy the chocolates.” Said Silas, buttoning his cloak shut and opening the door. Ron stood there, furiously red ears glowing, and his mouth opening and closing. Silas had shut the door, and now stood in the road with snowflakes swirling lazily about him, he turned to look back at Ron in the shop, smiled, winked and was gone.
Ron felt… he didn’t know how he felt, flat, he supposed, maybe a bit sad without really realising why. He turned to the counter to pay for the box of chocolates, wondering how Silas Slash knew his name.
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