Wacky Wednesday

We all know Harry's one to let himself be taken up with a thought. He'll sit there and think it, think it, think it until it is beyond dead. He's not merely obsessed with whatever new thing is troubling him, but he also lets it take front and center in his brain, working its way into his every breathe, every emotion and every single action he could possibly perform.

Far be it from a troubled seventh-year wizarding world hero to take some time and please himself. Far be it from him to even give himself a second thought. All his soul-sucking obsessions focused on conquering evil with aim like a sharpshooter. Too bad this time it turned out to be a red herring. Perchance ickle Harry has found his diamond in the rough?

Hardly. Believe you me, Harry was not about to let himself be fooled by this...this...Slytherin slut...this smooth sailor...this sultry scarlet wo-ahem-man...this streetwalking sleep-around who had just given Harry such an enjoyable experience, he was more likely to forget his own Firebolt than those seven minutes of...what did the muggles call it? Oh yes...seven minutes of heaven.

Of course now Draco was engaged in a rather heavy drinking game, and looking so damn sensual while being a raving drunk that it was all Harry could do not to scream out in pure ecstasy from just observing this lustful specimen. His gleaming silver eyes and matching glistening hair...Harry had never noticed before how much Draco's hair resembled a unicorn's...so soft and...

Oh, but the only way for Harry to get past his current fixation would be to think it to death...not that we were complaining...

Moving on, though, like all stories must...

So it was now 10:07, and Harry was employing every last unwasted brain cell he had on plans to get back to the place he had been with Draco...wherever that was.

By this time Harry was drunk beyond recognition. He had always been a boy of self-control and careful words, taking measures to avoid rocking the boat and, even more, to avoid making waves.

But perhaps this is what the wound-tighter-than-a-clock Potter needed, what would finally cause him to come out of his crustaceous shell. Let's face it, our favorite quidditch seeker had not exactly had too much romantic experience with anyone, let alone members of the same sex. His past with girls? Ended quite badly, didn't it? His "present" with one Mr. Malfoy? Going quite...well...for lack of all other words. True, now Draco was getting even more drunk off his ass, but they were 17, it was New Year's Eve, and it was their last year before graduation. Draco deserved to party, and Harry deserved to party even more.

So how come he was sitting on an over stuffed chair by himself?

The world was already upside down, if that was even possible...

Might as well do something out of the ordinary while you still can.

Harry needed a plan...but he wasn't used to doing this alone! What good is a hero without his sidekicks? Two sidekicks who were, currently, exploring each other's tonsils on the common room floor.

Well, Harry never was one to just watch. Everything held some sort of personal meaning to him, and caused him to react, and let's face it, sucking face with sly Slytherins did not leave you un-aroused. He decided to take care of his current horniness alone...and headed for the bathrooms.

He closed the door behind him and began to relieve himself of his sexual tension. As he was beginning to feel, shall we say, relieved? the door knob turned and opened up behind Harry. Harry froze, for a split-second, unable to do anything to hide what catholically "sinful" activity he had been pursuing. Then he scrambled to zip up his trousers and eliminate all evidence, though the logical voice in his head said that he had already been caught.

"Well, well, Potter...never though I'd see you going at it like that...couldn't wait for me?"

The voice drawling behind Harry sent ice through his veins, almost as if he had accidentally walked through Nearly Headless Nick again.

But Harry talking wasn't necessary. Draco walked up behind him and placed his hands on Harry's hips. He brought his lips in seductively to whisper in Harry's ear.

"Need some help with that?" he asked huskily, in such a low pitch that Harry thought it shouldn't be allowed. All the while he looked Harry in the eyes in the mirror, and rubbed his hands up and down on Harry's hips.

What a loaded question. Was Draco teasing? Was he simply drunk? Harry couldn't reply. What was going on? He wished so much that Draco was sincere, because even if he wasn't certain exactly what would happen after that, he didn't want to deny himself the extreme pleasure of being with Draco, and feeling like he had just minutes ago. The Slytherin prefect certainly knew what he was doing. And, besides the fact that this was his archrival in practically all things, especially quidditch, and besides the fact that this was another male, and besides the fact that he came from a Death-Eater family, it felt so right to Harry.

Luckily, Harry didn't have to answer. Draco had lowered his lips to Harry's smooth skin and proceeded to nestle and suck at the muscular, quidditch-toned shoulder until a rich, red love bite appeared, leaving his mark on the boy that was, using any common sense, completely wrong from him. They had everything going against any potentiality of a relationship. What exactly was he doing? All he knew was that he shouldn't be doing this, and that his father would, if he knew, disapprove. This was, of course, motive enough for Draco to pursue a secret, physical relationship with the Boy Who Was His Biggest Competition.

Quite honestly, Harry loved the feel of Draco's skin on his. He loved the feel of Draco's arms around him, the feel of--Hello! What was that?

So Draco was getting a physical response from Harry...it just wasn't verbal.

Funny how these things worked.

Draco paused when he felt Harry's hardness against his own slim hip. He couldn't help but grin at the reaction he had generated. He felt oddly proud, as if climbing Mt. Everest or operating one of those muggle can-open things.

They went back to snogging and the heat of their activities hung heavy in the air.

In the style of mad muggle pornos, they had quite forgotten their past with each other and were completely caught up in the moment.

Let's not get into any risqué details, but I will say that they did practically everything but it.

This is probably due to the fact that Harry is utterly virginal.

That and Seamus had once again interrupted with his lovely timing in tow, no doubt subconsciously wanting to get a glimpse of the action when all he could do, when faced with the vision of his fellow Gryffindor do-gooder going at it in the loo with the sneaky Slytherin prince himself, was stare.

Yes, they knew they were hot. They don't need more people openly gaping at them like this.

Can you picture it?

I bet you are.

Back on topic...So Seamus busted in and broke up the party-that-nearly-was-in-Harry's-pants. (So sad...) and after both parties simply frozen on the spot, they began to move at once. Harry got up off of his knees and Draco zipped up his pants, coming off the wall on which he had been leaning. The fog of His Experience With Draco settled very nicely around Harry's brain, or at least the functioning parts of it left after all the alcohol he'd consumed. He'd be uber hung over tomorrow.

But right now, he, predictably, didn't care.

Draco, with his ever-present sneer, drawled, "Enjoy the show, Finnegan?"

"Eeep!" was all Seamus could manage, which, when you think about it, was quite a lot.

Harry, saying nothing, was quietly frustrated that, first he had been interrupted snogging Draco Malfoy, then had been caught wanking by none other than Draco Malfoy, and then had been interrupted getting to third base with Draco Malfoy.

Is it so bad to try and ravish your rival?

Hey, that could be a new Hogwarts spirit day...Ravish Your Rival...

Anyway, Mr. King of Kisses breezed out of the restroom with all the confidence and suave-ness he normally possessed, his eyes never leaving Harry's. It was all Harry could do, after that look, to keep himself from running after Draco and begging him to sweep him up to the Slytherin dorms for hours of mad sex.

Just like Malfoys never lose control, Potters always maintain their sense of pride...

Oh, sod it all. Who was he kidding?

Harry exited right after Draco, pushing Seamus aside, though the Irishman's mouth was still agape, but hands fidgeting for the pockets of his robes, probably in his pathetic effort to appear nonchalant.