The Power of Suggestion

Harry's POV

I'm Harry Potter. People I meet gape at me and stare at my scar; I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me like it used to. I have bigger things to worry about than that. I learned a few months ago that I'm a marked man - I either have to kill Voldemort, the monster who murdered my parents, or be killed by him. I went through the usual phases - denial, self-pity, bitterness, anger, you know how that goes. But I've moved past most of those feelings. Don't get me wrong, it isn't that I'm not afraid of death - the fact is, I'm terrified of it. I don't want to die any more than I want to become a murderer. But there you have it. That's my 'choice.'

After a couple of months of being absolutely miserable, I realised one thing - I may not have much time to live. So I'm going to spend whatever time I have left making me happy. For once, I'm going to put me first. I'm going to give myself whatever I want, whatever I need. And I don't intend to die before I get me some. By 'some,' I'm referring to the blond bombshell flying across the Quidditch field at the moment, of course.

Don't be shocked - it was inevitable. I mean, he is a gorgeous hunk of meat. Look at him, his silver blond hair flying in the wind, those cool grey eyes gleaming as they search for the Snitch...

I saw him at Hogsmeade a few weeks ago, and let me tell you, I was not the only one staring at those beautiful black leather pants. They made my blood run hot and my imagination go wild - if only I could rip those gorgeous pants off and...

But I digress. What is this fascination I have with Draco? It's not love, I can tell you that. I have no illusions of candlelight dinners or gentle caresses.

I want him.

I lust for him.

He makes me incredibly horny.

I used to think that I hated him, but I grew to long for those interactions with him - the verbal spars, the occasional fistfight, the detentions together. He brought out emotions in me that I never knew I could possess. He makes me want to be bad. So bad it feels good. I get an adrenaline rush like I never imagined before. I want to hurt him, scorn him, kick him, kiss him, run my hands over that ivory skin...phew! Don't get me started.

Anyway, I discovered how I felt about him sometime over the last year. Realising it shocked and scared me. I mean, he's a boy, for Merlin's sake. I'm straight. At least, I think I am. I've never really thought too much about it. I did have that ridiculous crush on Cho for months, didn't I? Well, that didn't work out too well, so I suppose it doesn't prove anything. And if I must be honest, what I felt for Cho was like a weak ray of sunshine on a cold day, compared to the molten lava passion I felt for Draco. Ah Draco - the dragon. I sure would like to tame that beast...

Rrrowwwrrr.

Slowly, I accepted the fact that I had the hots for Draco. I didn't want to coo sweet nothings to him; I wanted to conquer him. I wanted him to be mine - body and soul. Well, body for now, if I must be honest. You know how we teenagers are. Hormones and all that.

So anyway, I decided I needed a plan. Obviously, Draco felt nothing but his usual scorn for me. I had to change that, and soon. So I took a leaf out of Hermione's book and went to the library, having told Ron and Hermione that I was going to read up on Occlumency. They were so wrapped up in trying to ignore the feelings they had for each other that I doubted they'd mind my absence.

I researched love potions. Good stuff, love potions. The only problem is - they're not exactly legal, and when I say not exactly, I mean not at all. If I get caught, I may be in a slightly uncomfortable position. I made a note of them as a last resort anyway. I mean legal is a matter of opinion, if you ask me. Anyway, I continued searching. Searching for something that would help make Draco mine.

The answer came to me from a most unexpected source. Dean had been reading a Muggle magazine, and had left it on the sofa in the common room. I was bored and picked it up. I noticed an intriguing article titled 'The Power of Suggestion.' According to the article, if a person hears a repeated phrase in his sleep for a long enough period, that thought is etched onto his subconscious. It couldn't be something totally out of character for him, but if it was something his subconscious could accept, it would start to affect him. Non-wizards sometimes use this technique to try to give up smoking, among other things. They record a message and have it play it over and over while they sleep.

That got me thinking. What if I could put a suggestive thought into Draco's subconscious? Merlin knows that's got to be a dark, evil place, but what if a fun thought was planted there? Like, "Harry is sexy," for example, or "I need Harry now." A wicked grin crossed my face. The possibilities were endless.

The first step was to find a way to make Draco hear the suggestion in his sleep. I thought about this for a while. I had read that seashells hold the sound of the ocean in them for eons, and if you put your ear to it, you can hear the sound of waves splashing. What if I could charm a seashell to echo my thoughts instead of the sound of the sea? But where would I find a seashell? Of course! I could transfigure something to be one. After all, those classes with McGonagall have got to be useful for something. I picked up an inkbottle from a nearby table.

Okay, so I had my seashell. I now had to research charms to make it tell Draco's subconscious what I wanted it to. Back to the library.

I spent a few days coming up with the perfect charm. It had to make a sound soft enough that only Draco could hear it. I didn't want Crabbe and Goyle suddenly eyeing me with hot desire, after all. I also needed it to start only after he went to bed, which meant once the lights were off and it got quiet. I finally got the charm right. It was complicated, but I did it - Hermione would have been so proud of me.

The next step was getting it to him. How would I get it into Draco's dormitory? Hmmm...I decided to use the old Invisibility Cloak; it had helped me out a number of times before.

That night, after dinner, I got out the Invisibility Cloak and followed a couple of first year Slytherins as they left the Great Hall for their common room. I had the seashell in one of my pockets. It had been charmed to chant, "I love Harry Potter." I tiptoed behind them through the Slytherin common room, (the password was 'Mudbloods Suck') and into the boys' dorm.

Draco's bed wasn't difficult to find; it was the comfortable looking one with the golden decorations, a luxurious satin quilt over it, and dozens of pictures of Draco stuck to the wall behind it. Most of the Dracos in the pictures were either adjusting their hair, or smirking the famous Draco smirk.

I put the seashell just under his nightstand. That should be close enough for him to hear it.

I sneaked out, and ran back to my own dorm, hoping nobody would miss my temporary absence. Ron and Hermione were in the common room, playing Wizard chess. They hadn't noticed my sudden departure after dinner. Great, I was home and dry.

The next morning I woke up feeling excited and anxious. How long would it take for that suggestion to start affecting Draco? I looked at him out of the corner of my eye during breakfast. He seemed his normal arrogant self, smirking at the first years, putting out a foot to trip Neville. No loving glances towards me. Oh well, maybe I had to wait longer.

Over the next few days, I did notice a slight change in Draco. The first time I noticed it was in Potions. Snape was droning on about the benefits of Belladonna. Ron was trying to read something under the desk, but Hermione kept slapping his wrist and nudging him. Bored, I looked over to where Draco was sitting. I was shocked at the look he was giving me. It was the look of utmost tenderness, a real sappy look. I raised my eyebrows. Draco seemed to suddenly notice that he was staring, and he turned to face Snape, blushing a deep red.

I noticed Draco giving me a few more of those lovesick-puppy looks after that, but he never did anything else. When we met, he treated me with the same disdain he always had. It was only when he thought I was not looking that I caught those looks of tender caring.

Bollocks to tender caring - I wanted more. Draco looking like a love-struck rabbit did nothing to cool my overactive hormones, so maybe I needed to make my suggestions a little more specific.

That night, I donned the Invisibility Cloak again, and slipped into the Slytherin dungeons, hoping that the password hadn't changed. "Mudbloods Suck," I said quietly, when I reached the entrance of the common room. The concealed stone door slid open. I crept into the boy's dormitory and quietly walked to Draco's bed. Sleeping, he looked good enough to eat. That soft breath falling on those delicious lips, those beautiful long eyelashes. It was all I could do to resist stealing a kiss right there.

All in good time.

I picked up the seashell, still sitting inconspicuously under the nightstand, and re-charmed it. It would now chant, "I love Harry Potter. I really want to touch him."

This time the charm acted sooner than I expected. It was two days later, in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was showing us Blubbytarks, ugly six-legged creatures that spat out venom, if you pissed them off enough. Most of the students were just looking at the Blubbytarks in disgust, but Malfoy looked a little scared of them. Hagrid made us walk to the Blubbytarks, one by one, trying to feed them tadpoles. When it was Draco's turn, he walked hesitantly towards the ugly creature, swerved suddenly, bumped into me, and I swear he groped me a bit before steadying himself and continuing towards the Blubbytark. I grinned inwardly.

Let the games begin.

The next few days were hilarious. Draco could not keep his hands off me. I could see it was confusing him, and he did not look happy about it. Yet he kept 'accidentally' bumping into me, tripping me and then helping me up, challenging me to fights where his intent seemed more to tease than to hurt. It was great. Crabbe and Goyle were disgusted, and Ron was furious.

"Malfoy is a perv," Ron yelled, after one of Draco's 'fights.' "If I didn't know better, I would swear he was trying to grope you. I'll kill that slimy bas-"

"You're overreacting," Hermione cut him off. "There's no way Draco was trying to ... feel Harry up or anything like that. Draco's the straightest bloke there is, he's probably slept with half the Slytherin girls by now." Ron's face turned purple at this. He said something that sounded like "Gah!" and stalked away.

I tried my best not to let the laughter escape.

Hermione went off to the library to study, and I decided to go to the Quidditch field, as I knew the Slytherins were practising today. Looking at Draco flying right now, I feel very happy. I've got him right where I want him, and this is just the beginning.

~~~~~~~

Draco's POV

Potter, Potter, Potter! I can't get damn Potter out of my mind. What the heck is wrong with me?

I ran my hands through my hair and wanted to scream.

Okay, I've been attracted to Potter for a while now. Yes, I am the sex king and every girl in the school wants to shag me. Can't say I don't enjoy it; I'm as straight as they get. With Potter, it's different though. He's always stood up to me; always defied me. Something about him drives me wild. His eyes burn so intensely that I want to melt under them. I have vivid dreams about experiencing the passion behind those eyes. I want to carry him over my shoulder to a remote castle and have my merry way with him. I want to possess him in every way there is.

That's obviously impossible. I am a Malfoy after all. What would people say? What would Father say? Since he escaped from Azkaban he's been a tad touchy. No need to give him any more reason to Crucio me to Hell's gate, now is there?

Anyway, since I couldn't have Potter the way I wanted to, I did the next best thing. I tried to make his life as miserable as possible. I taunted him, his little Mudblood friend, and that stupid sod, Weasel. They really made it too easy. Oh, he always sticks up for them, the true Gryffindor that he is. How touching. It just gave me more opportunities to make him look like the fool that he is. An attractive, sexy, highly shaggable fool, no doubt, but a fool nevertheless.

Well, all that changed a couple of weeks ago. I don't know what happened, I started to have...how can I describe it?...tender feelings for Potter. I was drawn to his face one day in Potions, and found it incredibly sweet. I wanted him to smile, to be happy. I wanted to send him pink roses. I wanted to cuddle with him under the stars.

Aarrghh...Was I insane? I, Draco Malfoy, was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. Over my nemesis, Potter, no less. Something was not right. Maybe somebody had put an Imperius Curse on me, or something. I mean, yes, I find those intense green eyes captivating, but I want to shag him, not cuddle him, for Grindelwald's sake! I can't believe I even used the word 'cuddle' in my thoughts. Shudder.

Things took a turn for the worse over the next few days. Not only did I have all these lovey-dovey feelings towards Potter, I wanted more than anything to touch him. Anyhow, anywhere. Just to get a little feel of his soft skin on my fingers. I tried to resist it, but it seemed I had no control over my emotions anymore. I just had to be near him.

The last fight was awful. I lured Potter into it, but all I could think of while we were wrestling, was how good his warm body felt under mine. He got a few punches in, but I couldn't fight back. I just wanted to caress his soft skin. I slid my hand under his jumper before he threw me off. Crabbe and Goyle were looking at me with very disgusted looks. The Weasel looked like he would explode. Potter...he looked sort of pleased, actually. I stalked away, but I knew - I had to stop this, whatever this was.

That night, I lay in bed, wondering what the devil was the matter with me. I couldn't sleep - it was all way too disturbing. I had a reputation to maintain after all. I would get to the bottom of it, I would...

What the...? I heard a soft voice, coming from somewhere near me. "I love Harry Potter. I really want to touch him."

What in the name of all that is evil was that? Where was it coming from? I switched on the lamp beside me. As suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped. I waited a couple of minutes before I switched the lamp off and listened. There it was - the voice again. I switched the light on again and it stopped. So it only worked in darkness, then. Very well.

I switched the light off and tried to work out where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be coming from under my nightstand. I turned the light on again and went to investigate. There were a few books there, a quill, and...and a seashell. I don't remember putting a seashell there. I picked it up and lay it on the bed next to me and turned the lamp off. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the voice chanted again, "I love Harry Potter. I really want to touch him." It was the sodding seashell. It was putting a spell on me or something. That's why I had been feeling so strange lately.

Potter! I'll kill you for this!

I spent almost all my time at the library the next couple of days. It was most enlightening. I couldn't work out what spell it was that had made me feel that way, but I did find the spell to charm the seashell to say whatever I wanted it to say. Maybe if I could just leave it near Potter while he slept, it would have the same effect on him. Ah, Potter, my little minx, my utterly desirable arch-enemy. Two can play this game, you know.

A few days passed, and I was getting a little anxious. Maybe the bloody spell needed something else. Potter wasn't being anything but his normal goody-two-shoes self, looking at all things evil with disdain, and that included me. I was getting very frustrated. The tender feelings for him hadn't disappeared altogether, although they had got a little less intense. I still wanted to touch him though, and it was driving me crazy.

After breakfast, I watched Potter and his little friends get ready to leave, and stuck my foot out just as Potter was crossing. Yeah, I know it gets stale, but hey, I have to have some laughs. Besides, it gives me a chance to get my hands on him.

Potter tripped, and his books went flying everywhere. The Weasel went red and pointed his wand towards me. "Malfoy -" he started.

Then the most peculiar thing happened. Potter scrambled off the floor and stood between the Weasel and me. There was a sudden hush around the room.

"Don't hurt him, Ron; it was my fault," he said. He turned to me and added, "Did I hurt your foot, my love?"

I was too dumbfounded to say anything. So was everybody else, apparently. Potter suddenly got a look of pure horror on his face, and ran out of the room. The Mudblood and Weasel started picking up his books, their faces red, as the whispers grew louder.

That was great! He had actually called me "my love!" I had intended the charmed seashell to somehow make Potter declare his feelings for me and make a fool of himself, but this was just delicious.

By evening, all of Hogwarts was buzzing with the news. Potter had a thing for me. He was hiding a secret crush on me.

The lessons together were great. In Care of Magical Creatures, I brushed past Potter, (yes, this felt good, so it served a double purpose) and asked him, "That do anything for you, Potter? Do you want some of this action?"

Potter held me with his steady gaze. His emerald green eyes seemed to grab me and render movement impossible. "Yes, Malfoy, I do. D'you want to do anything about it?"

I was shocked at his answer for a moment, wanting desperately to take him up on his offer. Yet I couldn't, not with the entire class watching us.

"You wish, you poof," I said laughing. "Have you any idea how pathetic you are?"

Once more Potter got that jolt-to-reality look, and stumbled away, leaving the Weasel with a look of pure horror on his face.

"What have you done to him, Malfoy?" the Weasel shouted. "I'll kill you, you -"

"Tha's enough, Ron," said Hagrid, making his way to us, and the Weasel backed off.

~~~~~~~

Harry's POV

Malfoy had sussed it out. That slimy git had worked it out. He was using my own weapon against me. That was the only thing that would make me say those things. I banged my head against the wall. Had I really called him 'my love?' Had I actually made a pass at him in front of the Slytherins and Gryffindors? I would never live to hear the end of this. I had to find that seashell. The stakes had just got higher.

I had run back to my room immediately after our Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Ron and Hermione had just let me go. How would I ever face them again? As soon as I got back, I began searching - it had to be somewhere near my bed. I looked at the nightstand, under it, under the blankets, nothing. Oh well! I guess I would just have to wait until bedtime to find it.

That night, I waited until the lights were off, and lay in my bed, still as a corpse. Sure enough, after a while, I heard a soft voice chanting "I will show the world I care about Draco Malfoy." It was coming from the side of the bed. I switched the light on and it stopped. Dammit. The only thing at the side of the bed was my bag. My bag! Last Thursday, Draco had started a fight with me and knocked my bag off my shoulder. He had then patted me all over, supposedly 'helping me up.' That part was rather enjoyable, actually. Draco has such beautiful, smooth fingers. I can imagine them trailing all over me. I can imagine...Wait...I'm getting carried away again. Where was I? Yes, seashell...git...last Thursday. After helping me up, Draco had helped me put my books back in my bag. I'll bet that's when he snuck the seashell in, the little shit. I looked around in my bag, and found the offending object in the front pocket. It was still chanting, "I will show the world I care about Draco Malfoy."

~~~~~~~

Two days later, we had double Potions with the Slytherins again. Ron and Hermione had been very concerned about me, and had even wanted me to talk to Dumbledore, because they were sure Draco had put some kind of hex on me. I just shrugged it off. I didn't tell them anything about the seashell. I had been the one to start it, after all. Besides, I was sure Ron would keel over if he ever found out about my burning desire to get into Draco Malfoy's pants.

We sat in relative silence while Snape explained the procedure for the healing potion we were about to start making. He divided us into pairs, and I got to work with Ron.

Ron noticed Malfoy staring at me, and his eyes narrowed. "I'm going to get Malfoy for this," he fumed. "I don't know what he's doing to you, but he's going to pay."

Saying that, he quietly stepped over to Draco's table and threw something in his cauldron before Draco could stop him.

"Weasel!" Draco shouted. "What did you put in there? Did my lover boy Potter put you up to it?"

"He's not your lover boy, you...you..." Ron began, but stopped when a glob of green liquid squirted out of Draco's cauldron straight on to the ceiling.

"What's going on?" Snape yelled. "Mr. Malfoy?" he continued, with a look of surprise. "Is there a problem?"

Before I could help it, I had burst out, "It's not Draco's fault, Professor. If you must blame somebody, blame me." No, no, no! Shut up, stupid mouth. That bloody spell is still affecting me. And did I really call him Draco in front of everybody? Malfoy! He's Malfoy!

Snape looked as if Christmas had come early. "Very well then, fifty points from Gryffindor, and detention this evening, Potter."

"It's not Potter's fault. Please don't punish him for something he hasn't done."

Everybody turned and stared. It was Draco. He looked horrified at what he had said too. Aha! So the charm on him had started working.

"Are you trying to say that it was your fault?" Snape asked Draco, rather disbelievingly.

"I...it was..." Draco looked at me and once more got that stars-in-his-eyes look. "Yes, Professor, it wasn't Potter, it was me."

"Detention for both of you tonight; my office, eight o'clock," said Snape, not taking any points off Slytherin, I noticed. I wanted to argue that I hadn't done anything, but then it had been Ron who'd started it, so I kept quiet. Ron tried to say something, but I stopped him. After all, detention with Draco might not be the worst thing imaginable, under the circumstances.

~~~~~~~

Draco's POV

Potter had burst out, "It's not Draco's fault, Professor. If you must blame somebody, blame me." This was beautiful!

Snape's face lit up, as he said, "Very well then, fifty points from Gryffindor and detention this evening, Potter."

Without wanting them to, words spilled out of my mouth. "It's not Potter's fault. Please don't punish him for something he hasn't done." What? What am I saying? Am I trying to save Potter from detention? Have I no control at all? Damn Potter and his damn spell.

Snape looked at me as if I was a dementor who had suddenly decided that laughter and joy were what life was all about. "Are you trying to say that it was your fault?"

"I...it was..." I started. I wanted to say it was that damn Weasel who did it. I looked back at Potter, and was overcome with that familiar loving feeling. His beautiful green eyes engulfed me. I just had to protect him at any cost, my precious little bunny.

"Yes, Professor, it wasn't Potter, it was me." I just called him a bunny in my mind. I'm a disgrace to the Malfoy name. I'm unfit to be a future Death Eater.

"Detention for both of you tonight, then. My office, eight o'clock," said Snape, looking vaguely amused.

I stood up for Potter; I stood up for Potter! That damn minx has somehow re-charmed the damn seashell and is playing with my damn emotions again. Damn! Not that I wouldn't mind detention with Potter. He and I in Snape's room, alone. Aaargh! What am I thinking? I hate Potter; I hate that gorgeous bastard. That damn seashell!

~~~~~~~

I arrived at Snape's office at exactly eight. Potter was already there, of course. Perfect Potter was never late, was he? Snape told us to cut and bottle an assortment of herbs, then left the room. I groaned. This would definitely take at least a couple of hours to complete. Damn Potter.

I looked over at him. He was determinedly not looking at me, chopping away at the herbs with a vengeance. Those beautiful hands, I could imagine them all over my body. I was overcome with an irresistible urge to touch them. So I did. I placed one of my hands over his. Potter looked up with a start.

"Why did you do it, Potter?" I found myself asking.

He sighed and looked at me. Those beautiful green eyes that I wanted to swim in. He brushed his hair back and gulped. I wanted to run my hands over his face, his neck...

"Shit! I give up. I'm...I'm sorry, Malfoy. I screwed up. I don't know what I was thinking. The seashell is under your pillow; you can get rid of it tonight."

"But why did you do it?" I insisted. "Did you just want to make a fool of me or was there something else?"

I moved closer until I could feel Potter's warm breath mingle with mine.

~~~~~~~

Harry's POV

"Did you just want to make a fool of me or was there something else?" Draco's eyes sparkled and a half-smile played on his lips. Those luscious, inviting, pink lips.

Draco's voice hit me like a ton of bricks. The way he said it. He knew. He knew I wanted him. Not just wanted to fight him; I wanted him, desperately. Not only did he know; he felt the same way. I could see it in his eyes. Those pools of molten silver. They were boring holes into me. I was burning under his gaze.

He took a couple of steps forward. I could feel his breath on my face.

"Why, Potter?" he whispered, his lips mere inches away from mine.

Something inside me burst. I couldn't hold back any longer. All those months of waiting; wanting; dreaming. I reached out and pulled his face closer, and closed my mouth over his.

His soft pink lips parted for mine. I pressed against him and tasted him; he was delicious. He kissed me back with a passion I had always known he possessed. I fell into the kiss and nothing else mattered. He put his arms around my waist and responded like I had only dreamed. My head was about to explode. Before I knew it, I had pushed him against the table and was running my hands all over him, our lips never losing contact.

He suddenly pulled back, and I let out a gasp of pain at this sudden withdrawal. "One word about this to anybody, and you're dead, Potter," he hissed.

I snorted. "Fat chance, Malfoy! You - evil incarnate, and me - saviour of good people everywhere. You think I want this known any more than you do? I have a reputation to maintain, as well. Now shut it, and come to Daddy!" I captured his mouth with mine again and there was silence.

Crash!

A bottle had fallen off the table. Startled, I pulled back.

"Don't stop," Draco whispered, hoarsely. "If we break stuff, we might get some more detentions from Snape."

"Mmmmmm"

The next morning Snape found half of his bottles broken, and Draco and I both got two weeks of detention.

Every night at eight. Just he and I.

I'm Harry Potter. At some point, I'm going to have to fight Voldemort. Again. But for now, I'm keeping me happy. Very happy.

**The End**