Beautiful World

Beautiful World

Chapter Eight

Breakfast was just ending when Draco walked into the Great Hall, easily ignoring the suspicious stares thrown at him from his housemates. He had, after all, not returned to his dorm last night, and they had to have figured out by now that whomever he’d been with, it hadn’t been a Slytherin. He didn’t care. Hopefully they didn’t compare notes with the Gryffindors and find out that Harry hadn’t slept there either. Draco didn’t need a full out house war right now on top of everything else.

The headmaster was still sitting at the High Table, though most of the professors had left to prepare for their classes. Climbing the stairs onto the platform, Draco made his way over to where Dumbledore sat discussing something with Professor Flitwick, who didn’t have a class that morning. Draco waited almost patiently for them to become aware of his presence.

It was Dumbledore who finally glanced over at him, looking mildly curious. “Mr. Malfoy. Is there something I can do for you?”

“It’s about Harry.”

That got all of Dumbledore’s attention, and he turned back to Flitwick, excusing himself graciously and then standing, leading Draco out of the Hall. As they walked, he asked almost casually, “You and Harry have become friends then, have you?”

Draco felt his face flush the tiniest bit and he licked his lips and said uncomfortably, “Sorta. I guess.”

“I must admit, Draco, that I’m surprised the two of you are able to get on at all. However, I’m grateful for it. Now then, what is it you wished to discuss?”

Deciding that directness was the best way to get the information he needed, Draco said abruptly, “Have you found anything to stop him from dying?”

Dumbledore stopped so suddenly that Draco had taken three steps before realizing that he’d left the headmaster behind. He turned, and Dumbledore said quietly, “Harry told you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s quite strange. That he trusts you that much.”

This put Draco on the defensive, as if Dumbledore were insinuating that he was not trustworthy. He stiffened and said, “He doesn’t seem to think it’s strange. Besides, if it’s a secret that was meant to be kept, it was his choice, not yours. It’s him that’s going to… that’s… he’s the one who…” he trailed off, and Dumbledore touched his shoulder gently.

“I did not mean to offend, Mr. Malfoy. The strangeness is not that he trusts you, but that he only trusts you. Harry hasn’t discussed this with anyone, not me, not his godfather, not his best friends. He refuses to mention it, acts angry and sullen if either Sirius or I mention it. We have been worried that he was in denial, that he would do something reckless.”

“And why shouldn’t he?” Draco asked, lifting his eyebrows. “How would you react?” He was running out of patience.

“We are doing all we can. There is still hope.”

“Why did you warn him if there was still hope? Have you checked the dark books?”

“They would not be helpful,” Dumbledore said, too quickly. “The spell his mother cast is not a dark spell and there is no dark spell that can lengthen it, only spells that would cancel the energy and make him die faster.”

“A dark spell to stop Voldemort’s spell then.” Draco had come to see the entire thing as the two spells, the dark spell of Voldemort’s and the light spell of Lily Potter, warring for control over Harry.

“There is no way to cancel the Killing Curse, Draco, you know that.”

“You haven’t looked. I mean no disrespect, sir, but this is a unique case. If you would just look into the Dark Arts, there could be —”

“The end never justifies the means, Draco.”

“They bloody well do when the end is Harry’s death!” Draco cried. “What does it matter how you stop it, as long as Harry doesn’t die? What does it matter what book you find the answer in? A book can’t be good or bad, it’s only knowledge, and it’s how that knowledge is used that makes it good or bad! How can saving Harry be bad?”

“You haven’t yet learned the full nature of magic, Draco. In a few years, maybe you’ll understand.”

“I want to understand now.”

Looking weary, Dumbledore said, “Each time magic is used, the energy of it travels through the mind and the body, leaving a mark, like a fingerprint. It cannot be erased. Most magic is ambivalent. It is neither good nor bad. Other magic is inherently bad, and it leaves a stain. It corrupts, multiplies and spreads like a disease. I will not condone the use of dark magic, there is far too much of it in the world already it.”

“You would rather let Harry die?”

“I would give my life for Harry, but I will not make others suffer. If I were to use dark magic to save him, I do not know if I have the power to resist the spread of it inside me. I will not let myself use dark magic to save Harry if it means there is even a slight chance that it will overtake me.”

It didn’t make sense to Draco, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t risk if it meant even a chance that Harry would be alright. “Never mind,” he snapped. “I’ll do it myself.”

He turned to walk away and Dumbledore called his name quietly. Draco turned back, and Dumbledore said, “Good luck. And be careful with him, Draco. You’re the one he wants to protect him through all of this. Sirius and I will do what we can, but it’s you he wants.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded and walked away.

***

It took him a long moment to realize that the roof above him was not his own. Panic ensued, because the shadows weren’t stretching the same way and the stone did not twist into the familiar cracks and bumps. Sitting up and sucking in a startled breath, he glanced around.

Draco’s bed. Slytherin house. He’d… they’d kissed. Oh god, he’d told! Told Draco that he was going to die! That made it real.

“Oh god.” Oh god. Before he could stop to think about it, Harry was up and out of the room. He ran through the common room, blinded by tears, secure only in the knowledge that he could only deny this if he never saw Draco again. Because now Draco knew, which meant that it was more than just a cruel trick being played on him by Dumbledore, which Sirius was going along with. That wasn’t all that rational either, but easier to believe than that he was going to die.

He ran through the halls, empty now as first class was well under way. Into the Gryffindor common room, up the stairs, he flew into his room, and the door slamming against the wall with all the force of his panic.

He’d run in the opposite direction of Hogsmeade, like Draco had said. Run fast. Maybe fly. Flying was faster. No one could catch Harry on a broom.

Swallowing shakily, Harry nodded to himself and threw his trunk open. He didn’t have much time. He had to leave, get out before Draco told anyone, before everyone knew. Before Draco came back and looked at him because Harry just knew that something in the way Draco saw him would have changed, and that change would be there, in his eyes, and Harry couldn’t stand the idea of something in Draco’s eyes changing.

He emptied his books out of his book bag and started cramming other things into it instead, things he couldn’t see living without. Invisibility cloak, some clothes, a bit of money… After a short hesitation, he slipped the album of his parents into his bag as well, and then grabbed his broom, glancing around the room. What else?

Hedwig. She’d find him, she always did.

That was it then. Glancing around again, Harry nodded and hurried from the room.

***

Draco had gone back to the library to take out a few books and then returned to his room, only to find the door wide open and the blanket tossed to the floor as if Harry had left so fast that it had still been draped over him when he left the bed. “Harry?” Draco called cautiously, but Harry wasn’t there. “Shit.”

He could only imagine what Harry was thinking now, or where he had gone. Hopefully just back to his own room, but with the way Harry had been acting, it was bound to be something more unpredictable and irrational.

“He’s just gone back to Gryffindor,” Draco said to himself reassuringly as he walked quickly towards Gryffindor tower.

The Fat Lady refused to let him in, but Draco only had to wait around for a few minutes before Hermione Granger came hurrying down the hall. She stopped abruptly when she saw him.

“Malfoy. What are you doing?”

“Looking for Harry, can you let me in?” He hated asking favours from her, but it was his only option.

“No.”

Thinking fast, Draco suggested instead, “Well, just check if he’s in there for me?”

“Ron told me he never came back to his bed last night. If you’ve gotten him in trouble again, Malfoy, I swear —”

“He was sleeping in the library,” Draco snapped, having no patience for this. “Can you just go check if he’s in there?”

“Did you hurt him? Did you have an argument with him or something?”

“No! I’m just... worried. Just go see if he’s there, will you?” he snarled, and Hermione, eyes narrowed, slipped inside, leaving him standing alone in the hall under the watchful eye of the Fat Lady.

A few minutes later, pale and worried, she peeked out at him and said, “He’s… not here. I think he’s… gone home. Or something.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“It looks like he’s packed and… and left.”

Cursing savagely, Draco shoved her out of the way and stalked into the common room. He blinked, momentarily blinded by the garish crimson and gold decorations, and then made his way towards the stairs.

Harry’s door was still open, and he stopped in the doorway, glancing around at the mess. His trunk was open, clothing flung about like a tornado had hit it. “Maybe he’s not gone,” he said. “Maybe he was looking for something.”

Stepping past him, Hermione shook her head. “He’s taken things. His broom, for one.”

“His broom?”

“He keeps it there.” She pointed to an empty corner.

Draco took a deep breath, striving for calm. So Harry had, for some reason, panicked and bolted from Hogwarts.

“I’ll go get Dumbledore,” Hermione said shakily, and Draco grabbed her arm.

“No. The last thing he needs is the whole school out after him, he’s just scared.”

“Scared of what? What did you do to him?” She was shouting, and the noise was giving Draco a headache.

“He’d have told you if he wanted you to know what he was scared of, now wouldn’t he?” he growled. “Just… stay here, shut up, I’ll find him and bring him back. I know which direction he’s gone.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I told him which direction to go! Now, just…stay here. And don’t tell anyone, for the love of Merlin.”

He walked out of Gryffindor Tower, summoning his broom even as he hurried out the front doors. Moments later, he was flying quickly away from the castle, in the opposite direction of Hogsmeade, grimly determined that Harry was not getting away.

He didn’t get that far, really. Not even all the way over the forest, before he saw Harry, in a small clearing far below. He was lying on his back, arms and legs spread, broom tossed aside.

“Oh god,” Draco moaned softly, as he tilted his broom forward to dive to the ground. “He fell from his broom and I wasn’t there to catch him.”

But Harry hadn’t, he was perfectly fine. Just lying there, staring up at the sky blankly, face pale and eyes very wide. Draco didn’t quite know what to say, so he hesitated after he’d gotten off his broom. And then, carefully, “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Harry replied quietly.

“Couldn’t do what?”

“Leave.”

Slowly closing his eyes and dropping to his knees, Draco sighed and said, “I should hope not, Harry. Honestly, you don’t think I wouldn’t have chased you to the ends of the earth and forced you to come back?”

It was silent for a long, long time, and then Harry finally turned his head, blinking slowly. Draco could see streams from the corners of his eyes, marking the path tears had taken, straight down over his temple and into his hair. “I think I should like for you to kiss me again,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “Because everything’s getting blurry again and I want to rip off all my skin.”

Draco’s lower lip trembled and he swallowed heavily, reaching out and touching Harry’s jaw lightly, tilting his face up a bit. He leaned down and kissed him softly, carefully, barely touching him. It was Harry who reached up and slipped one hand behind Draco’s head, fingers tangling his hair, and jerked him down further, so that Draco was forced to catch his balance on his hands, one on either side of Harry’s head. Their lips pressed together hard now, and Harry’s mouth opened a tiny bit. He was trembling, hesitant and unsure, going on pure instinct, and Draco let his eyes flutter shut, nudging him in encouragement, stroking his face.

Harry’s tongue brushed Draco’s lower lip lightly, nervously, and Draco made a small noise of approval, reassurance, before reciprocating. Growing more confident now, Harry slipped his tongue inside Draco’s mouth, a careful sort of exploration, which Draco allowed because Harry was guiding the kiss this time, and he wasn’t sure what Harry wanted from him.

Letting his head fall back to the grass, Harry broke the kiss, breathing heavily through his nose, eyes still closed. Draco studied him for a long moment and then said softly, shakily, “What do you want from me, Harry?”

“Proof that this is real?”

“That what’s real?”

“Everything. Everything I told you. Everything I start believing in when you kiss me.”

“But what do you start believing in? I don’t understand…” His voice was husky, desperate, and Draco hated it. He tried pulling away, backing off, but Harry’s hand was still in his hair and didn’t let him go.

“That there’s something worth living for and it doesn’t matter because I’m going to die.”

“Do you want that to be real?” Draco whispered, and Harry finally opened his eyes. They were wild and a green that was nearly golden.

“Which part?”

His arms gave out suddenly and Draco fell on top of Harry, resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “The part… the part about something to live for.”

Now, instead of holding him there, Harry’s hand seemed to be stroking him, running his fingers through Draco’s hair, soothing him. He was quiet for a while, and then he said, “I was going to run so that I never had to see you again, because I had told you everything and that meant that I had admitted, finally, that it was real. I thought that if I never saw you again, I could go on pretending it wasn’t. But pretending it wasn’t real made me think it wasn’t, and there are only two things that can keep things real for me. One, making myself bleed, and that only keeps it real because it reminds me, over and over, that I’m dying. Two, being with you, because it makes everything in the world so much more vivid, and even I can’t dream things that are as colourful and beautiful as the world is when I’m with you.” He swallowed, and Draco’s hand found his, the one that was twisted in the grass, clutching the blades. He smoothed it out and flattened his on top of Harry’s, palm to palm. “So the farther from Hogwarts I got, the easier it was to think it was all a dream. And I started getting confused, because I wanted parts of it to be a dream. Parts like that on my birthday, I’m gonna die. But at the same time, there were other parts I couldn’t stand to leave. You. And… and the way you kissed me.”

“So you waited for me?” Draco asked in a thick voice.

“I had to.”

“And now what do you want from me?”

“I’m only fifteen, Draco.”

“I know.”

Harry was nodding, his heart beat nervous. Then, he whispered, “When you find out that the oldest you’re ever going to be is fifteen, you start thinking differently.” “What do you mean?” Draco lifted his head, studying Harry’s face critically.

“I always thought that there was some secret to life that I hadn’t yet realized, some great big secret that everyone learns before they die. Now, I guess there isn’t. Or maybe there is, only you’ve got to reach a certain age before you learn it.” He was frowning, and Draco traced the frown with a fingernail.

“Or maybe the secret’s staring you in the face and you haven’t yet even realized it,” he said.

Harry’s eyes flashed to his. “Do you know what it is, Draco?” he asked innocently, and then he opened his lips and pulled Draco’s finger inside, sucking lightly on it, curiously, his tongue flickering against it, teeth grazing his knuckle.

“I-I think I might have a vague idea,” Draco stammered, eyes flying wide as he stared down at the way Harry’s lips had closed around his finger. Then they quirked and curved upwards in a playful smile, and Draco pulled his finger away. It was strange, seeing a playful grin matched with dark and sad eyes, but somehow the expression fit Harry’s face perfectly. As much a paradox as Harry himself was.

“Do you want —” Harry cut himself off there, frowning.

“Do I want what?” Draco asked. He shifted a little in the grass, licking his lips nervously.

“I’m not sure… I just… I think… I don’t know, I —”

He didn’t get any further because Draco had leaned down and placed a tiny kiss on his throat.

“Draco?”

“Mmm?” he replied absently, flicking his tongue out and licking Harry’s throat lightly, curiously. It tasted like he had always imagined Harry would taste, and Draco didn’t bother wondering when he’d ever sat and wondered what Harry’s skin would taste like. Instead, he opened his mouth a bit and sucked lightly.

Startled, Harry whimpered, trying to twist away and pull Draco closer at the same time. The result was that Draco lost his balance and fell partially on top of him, and before he could right himself and pull away, one of Harry’s arms had come up and wrapped around his shoulders, pinning him there. Rather startled himself, Draco whispered, “Oi, Harry, make up your sodding mind.”

Instead of making up his mind, Harry licked his lips, and Draco was lost. With a helpless sort of nervous worry in his eyes, his eyes were drawn to Harry’s mouth, mere inches from his own, and he closed the small distance to kiss him. Harry sensed it, opening his mouth eagerly, a strange sort of shivering urgency in the way he leaned upwards, meeting Draco halfway. Their mouths crashed together, Harry’s tongue pushing almost angrily into Draco’s mouth, startling him. Panicking, Draco tried to pull away, and Harry felt his fear and the kiss changed, gentled, and it was Harry soothing Draco this time. Sucking his lower lip in an apologetic way, Harry stroked Draco’s cheek carefully, calming him, and Draco wondered wryly when it had changed and become Harry worrying about pushing Draco too far.

The nervous butterflies calmed at the sweetness of Harry’s mouth below his, and Draco relaxed, flicking his tongue against Harry’s, drawing it back inside his mouth. He felt Harry smile against his lips and couldn’t help but smile back.

Draco wasn’t sure what he was doing or what it would lead to, all he knew was that this was what Harry wanted, this would somehow make things easier for Harry, and that was all that mattered. If Harry wanted, Draco would have walked to the moon and back, and this seemed infinitely simpler, easier, and much safer. This was just Harry. Kissing Harry. It should have scared him, but it didn’t, it only made him terribly nervous and excited and shaky and… He smiled again, because Harry hadn’t yet mastered the art of breathing through his nose, and he’d pulled away, sucking in a ragged breath, turning his face to the side and panting.

He didn’t want to stop kissing him, so Draco kissed the corner of Harry’s lips while the other boy tried to catch his breath, and then slid lower, to the line of his jaw, tracing that up to his ear. A strangled, breathless whimper made him smirk as he bit Harry’s earlobe gently and sucked it a little, before nuzzling the skin behind Harry’s ear and kissing it lightly.

“C’mon now,” he whispered, smiling. “It’s not so hard, surely you remember how to breathe, Harry.”

“It’s not…” Harry gasped. “That I forget…how to… how to breathe… it’s just that you’re not…giving me time to catch my breath!”

Deciding that if he had enough breath to say all of that, he must have caught it after all, and Draco tilted Harry’s face back up and kissed him again, shifting instinctively, until he was kneeling over Harry, both hands on his chin, framing his face and keeping it still. Only after he had reassured himself that Harry wouldn’t twist away again, Draco let his hands slip lower, down over Harry’s shoulders, his arms, and finally to his hands, pinning them to the grass and pressing his on top. Palm to palm, Harry automatically curled his fingers around Draco’s hands, even as he opened his mouth with a tiny whimper that sounded rather like a purr, letting Draco’s tongue slip inside.

That sound sent something wild and hot spiraling low in Draco’s stomach and it was rather like a strong shot of alcohol that went straight to his brain. Reacting to that, and the heat of Harry’s mouth, Draco let himself stretch out on top of the other boy, pinning him almost in the exact way he had on the Quidditch pitch the day he’d fallen from his broom: chest, hips, and thighs.

Harry panicked, tearing his mouth away and turning his head to the side, jerking his hands away and pushing against Draco’s chest.

Only after Draco pulled away a bit, bracing himself on his elbows and lifting himself up off of him a little, did Harry turn his face back, eyes looking wide, startled, and very dark. Resting his forehead against Harry’s, Draco started stroking his face, smoothing his hair. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright, I won’t, I promise,” he whispered incoherently.

“You won’t what?” Harry asked shakily.

Draco swallowed, all of the butterflies in his stomach coming back full force as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried frantically to calm down and think, figure out what he was doing…stop…stop scaring Harry… stop scaring himself. “I just… won’t,” he said finally, still breathing heavily.

There was a breathless moment, one of those endless moments, in which Harry’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Draco watched the shadows his eyelashes made on his pale skin, and then Harry bit his lower lip. For a long time, Draco just stared into his eyes and wondered at the strange emotions he saw flickering there, and then Harry tensed, muscles shifting beneath Draco so suddenly that he yelped when he was flipped onto his back and Harry was almost shyly looking down at him.

“But what if I want you to?” he whispered, licking his lower lip uncertainly.

“…Oh,” Draco breathed, not sure if he was ready for whatever Harry was suggesting but knowing that there was no way in hell he was going to say no. No way in hell he was going to let Harry back away, put more distance between them, because even Harry lying on top of him was not close enough. It wasn’t… wasn’t skin the way it had been in the lake.

Harry let out a shaky breath slowly and Draco reached up, pulling his glasses off and dropping them to the grass. A slow smile spread across Harry’s lips and he ducked his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. Reaching up, Draco brushed it aside, fingertips grazing Harry’s forehead, and their eyes met and held for a long moment.

It was different, Draco decided rather incoherently. Harry’s eyes were different than he’d ever seen them, they looked…looked like glowing pools. Bright and deep and like Draco could fall into them forever. He wondered if it was because they’d been kissing, and wondered if his eyes looked the same, only silver.

Harry shifted and Draco’s entire body echoed with the strange shock of that, as if lightning had suddenly shot through his veins. “Umm,” he gasped, eyes going wide.

Instantly looking worried, Harry whispered, “What? Did I hurt you?”

“Umm,” Draco said again, closing his eyes and, in an attempt to demonstrate what had caused that reaction, quite sure he would never be able to find the words for it, he lifted his hips a bit; Harry’s knee had fallen between his legs, his own hips grinding down a bit, and he appeared quite unaware of it. Until, of course, it was Draco who was shifting against him, and then Harry’s own eyes widened and his body jolted a bit. He swallowed heavily.

“Oh. Umm.” Licking his lips, Harry closed his eyes and Draco hesitantly lifted his hands to Harry’s shoulders, sure the other boy was going to panic and roll away and wanting, somehow, to convince him to stay. He needn’t have bothered. Even as he was wistfully preparing for the suddenly flash of cold he knew would hit him after Harry pulled away, the other boy was gingerly yet deliberately grinding his hips down into Draco’s, his eyes fixed on Draco’s face, as though waiting for a reaction.

“God,” Draco breathed, the sudden rush of heat through his entire body making it hard to think.

Harry smirked a little and kissed him hard, the force of it nearly bruising Draco’s mouth, but he didn’t care. It was wild and strange and he’d never done anything remotely like this, not with Lisa or anyone. Even if he had, he doubted that it would have made him ache as badly as this did, with the strange mix of aggression and hesitation in every move Harry made. As if he wanted to devour Draco but first shyly asked permission.

Shivering as Harry slid lower, kissing his neck, Draco closed his eyes, licking his lips nervously and wondering when the world went mad and how he ended up on his back in a grassy field with Harry on top of him, kissing him, sucking and biting his neck, making him forget…forget all the reasons why he shouldn’t be… oh god, making him…ohhh… “Harry,” he stammered, because Harry’s hand had slipped lower, down over Draco’s stomach, brushing against his… against his… oh god.

Draco sat up so suddenly that Harry fell to the ground beside him with a muffled grunt. “Oh god, oh god,” he was chanting, feeling suddenly ill. “I didn’t mean to, Harry, I swear, I…” It wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal, this was worse than that dream he’d had, when he woke up and he was hard, because this was real and Harry was there and Harry knew and Draco suddenly wanted the ground to open up and swallow him and nothing could be as embarrassing as Harry Potter knowing that Draco Malfoy had gotten like that because Draco was quite sure it was a rule somewhere in the Family Code that Malfoys Do Not Get Turned On By Other Boys. Especially in fields. Outside. Like animals. Peasants. In the grass. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh —

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” Harry asked in a tiny voice, and Draco blinked, glancing down at where Harry was sprawled on the ground.

“W-what?”

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just…”

Draco bit his lip, honestly confused. Harry should be disgusted, horrified, something. Not looking like he was about to cry and oddly vulnerable without his glasses and his hair messed up that way. “No,” Draco said very quietly. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to what? It was me, I shouldn’t have —”

“Didn’t mean to do that.”

“What?” Harry blinked, looking blank.

His face was slowly turning pink, Draco could feel it, and he looked almost sheepishly at the ground, clearing his throat. There was a long silence, and then Harry made a surprised sound in the back of his throat and then said, “Oh.”

Draco looked up at him and winced at the crazy, lopsided grin on Harry’s face. “What?” he asked, stung.

“Draco, you’re so dense sometimes!” Harry cried, laughing.

“What?” he asked again, sulkily.

Harry got to his knees and touched Draco’s cheek, saying quietly, “That’s why you freaked out? It wasn’t that you didn’t want me to touch you?”

Swallowing shakily, Draco nodded, and Harry slipped his hand back so that his fingers were buried in Draco’s hair. “You promise?”

He nodded again, closing his eyes.

“And you don’t think you do the same to me?”

His eyes flew open and he bit his lip, glancing at Harry uncertainly. “What?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and then, when he noticed, much to Draco’s disgust, that it was shaking, he kissed the knuckles lightly and then slid it down to the front of his trousers.

“…Oh,” Draco breathed, startled. He hadn’t even realized…

“Can I… can I kiss you again, then?” Harry asked, suddenly shy again.

“Umm,” Draco replied, licking his lips, which apparently, Harry took as permission.

It was strange, Draco decided musingly, as he kissed Harry back and let the other boy nudge him so that he was lying on his back in the grass again, Harry smiling brightly and stretching out on top of him again. He was the only one with any sort of experience at all, and Harry was practically leading him through this.

Though he was being polite about it.

“Can I… can I… umm,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, his hand hovering on Draco’s stomach uncertainly.

Nervously, Draco swallowed and nodded, and Harry grinned at him and kissed him again. “Relax,” he teased, biting Draco’s lower lip.

I’ve created some sort of monster, Draco decided, with no small amount of thrill at the prospect. A monster, maybe, but his monster, who was currently—oh god, undoing his trousers and… Oh.

“Mmm,” Draco whimpered, and Harry kissed him again, as if trying to distract him from the way his hand was moving over him lightly, sort of a strange, erotic exploration that was making it very hard for Draco to be distracted. Even by Harry’s tongue in his mouth, which he had thought, only moments before, would be the most distracting thing in the world.

And then Harry’s hand wrapped around him and Draco’s list of The Most Distracting Thing In The World was revised again.

Harry’s voice was shaky. “Is that… is that okay?”

“You wanna, just… ummm…” Draco’s hand wrapped around Harry’s and he grinned a bit and rolled his eyes, adjusting his hand a little. It was trembling badly, and Draco was relieved that Harry was at least a little nervous.

“L-like that?”

“Ummh….”

He laughed. “Right. I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Haven’t you ever —”

“I’ve never —”

They had spoken at the same time, Draco’s voice rather hoarse and Harry’s breathless, and Draco opened his eyes, staring up at Harry in surprise. “Never?”

“Umm. Is it alright? I’m not… I…”

“Shut up,” Draco growled, rolling his eyes. “It’s… god. Umm. I mean.” He rolled his eyes again and gave up trying to form a coherent sentence and instead pulled Harry down on top of him and kissed him hard.

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, kissing him back, distracted so that his hand slowly stopped moving as he lost himself in the kiss.

But Draco suddenly didn’t care, because for all of Harry’s inexperience with anything of this nature, he was having trouble breathing, thinking, doing anything except whimpering and trying not to yelp anything too obscene.

He’d never thought it could feel like that…

Then again, he’d never imagined it would be Harry’s hand doing it, and that somehow made it better, though how it could get better, Draco didn’t know.

Come to think of it, he’d never imagined a lot of the things that had happened lately, with Harry…

A sudden thought made Draco’s entire body run cold. “Harry?” he whispered.

Harry must have seen the sudden worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You know how you randomly started skipping class?”

“Yeah…”

“And going to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night?”

“Uh huh…”

“And just generally being a rebellious little brat?”

“…Umm. What’s your point, Malfoy?”

“This… this isn’t more of the same, is it?”

Harry stiffened, eyes growing wary, hand falling away. “What?”

“I mean…” He was having trouble forming a coherent sentence. “I mean that this isn’t something wrong that you’re doing, just because you shouldn’t.”

There was a long moment in which Harry stared at him, absolutely incredulous and Draco had the sinking feeling that perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. Harry sat up and backed away — more like, stumbled away, really. “Is that what you think this is?” he hissed.

Definitely shouldn’t have said that. “I only meant that —”

“That what?” His voice was scathing now, furious, and Draco winced. “That I decided, ‘Hey! You know what would really piss people off? If I tried jerking Draco Malfoy off in a field somewhere!’”

“Harry, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Then how the hell did you mean it?”

“I was just worried, that’s all.” Even as he spoke, Draco was doing up his trousers, picking grass out of his hair, looking anywhere and everywhere except at Harry.

“Worried? Why the hell would you be worried?” Harry sneered, and Draco lost his temper.

He was on his feet before he realized it, and shouting. “Shut up, Harry, just shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You think this entire thing is easy for me, or for your godfather, or even Dumbledore? What about your friends? You think this is easy for us? And yet you’re going around acting like the whole world has fucked you over and it’s like you’re out for revenge or something, and you’ve been acting like a self-involved prat with everyone, but I’m not letting you do that to me, alright? Just grow up already!”

He wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t really aware of anything except this terrible pain and fury that almost seemed to be ripping him up inside, and when Harry’s fist swung at his face, he was completely unprepared.

It slammed into his jaw and his head snapped back, gray spots dancing in front of his eyes, blood from his split lip filling his mouth. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand,” Harry spat in a low voice, cradling his aching fist, while Draco stared at him incredulously. “I must have forgotten, for a while there, who exactly it was I was speaking to.”

And then he grabbed his broomstick and launched into the air and was gone.

His lower lip was trembling a bit and Draco’s eyes were very wide. He glanced around, as if to make sure he was really alone, and then, blood dripping from his chin, he sank weakly to his knees, and cried.