Wacky Wednesday

Needless to say, Harry was fed up with Seamus' interruptions. What would it take for him to have better timing, at least?

Getting caught sucking off your enemy was not the best thing that could happen to you, you know.

Anyway, after that experience, Harry doubtless needed a very cold shower. He decided that since his two best friends were prefects and, apparently, distracted at this point in time, they wouldn't mind if he made use of the prefect's bathroom. The two had told Harry months ago the password to this private place and since all Harry truly wanted to do was take a cold shower and relieve himself of all this erotic energy he felt, but couldn't rightly act on, nor even utilize. He was already caught in self-pleasure once, and let's face it...Moaning Myrtle got off on things such as that. Why else would she frequent the bathrooms so much? Obviously, Harry also wanted to avoid getting interrupted, by Mr. Seamus-I-Don't-Mind-Having-A-Peek Finnegan, deceased Hogwarts alumni, or otherwise.

Harry walked up to the 7^th year Boy's dorms and gathered up his invisibility cloak. He certainly could do without drunken stares and the like he might get from fellow students, or virtually sober stares he might get from those who perhaps had not had that much to drink, and who had registered and the Slytherin Prince and St. Potter had been caught in the act--twice--by Seamus Finnegan.

Harry trudged to the prefect bathrooms, and desire was pent up inside him. His want...need...lust for Draco was so overpowering that he clearly could not do anything else without taking a very cold shower.

He had never been this...horny.

As if he had a close familiarity to horny. Harry was hardly one to want someone this bad, on this level of intensity.

Essentially, he had never wanted anyone like this. Sure, he had that thing for Cho Chang, whatever that was. Sure, he might have dreamed about her, one day, in an innocent, more romance-orientated fashion, but certainly not in a Must-Do-Right-Now fashion.

He felt that if he did not get Draco right now, there might be no point in living, because nothing else could ever be so enjoyable, not anymore, not after he'd had his grand taste of Draco...in more ways than one.

As he traveled down the corridor, heading for the bathrooms, his mind's eye so clearly pictured Malfoy's sweet, probing lips, his smooth, creamy neck, his well-endowed maleness...

The soft spot behind his ear, gently, softly covered lightly with fine, pure hair...

The sharp collar bones on either side of his elongated neck...

Harry simply ached with desire...his very core pulling...needing...demanding.

Always, always listen to your inner self.

Harry reached the prefect bathrooms, hand grasping the cold, hard steel, fingers raking at the door. He strode into the room, and tore off his invisibility cloak, tossing it carelessly on the floor. His sweater followed, and soon he stood in all his birthday glory, surrounded by the rich, cool marble of the lush bathroom. His hard, erratic breathing reverberated throughout the room.

"Well...well...well...couldn't wait for any foreplay this time?"

(Three guesses who it is...)

(No, not Seamus!)

Our favorite Slytherin showed himself, stepping out of the corner, his shirt already unbuttoned, and trousers sitting dangerously low on toned, muscular hips.

Harry turned, giving Draco an eyeful.

Not that it wasn't a pleasant sight.

Draco rather enjoyed it, truth be told.

Anyway...Harry (for once) replied quite smoothly, "As a matter of fact, I couldn't. That's how bad I needed you."

He met Draco halfway, and tore off his opponent's shirt, tossing it mindlessly into the depths of the echoing chamber. He grasped Draco's shoulders and pulled him closer, their chests magnetically reinforced, with no hopes of separation.

(Author takes a break, because even the author is getting decidedly heated...and this is only imaginary)

Harry curved his neck around Draco's, lips tenderly caressing the soft spot behind his ear, leaving a trail of delicious kisses down his jaw line, and moved up to kiss the side of the bride of Draco's oh-so-polished nose.

Where did Draco get such a beautiful, Renaissancian nose like that? One descended undoubtedly from royalty, the center of thousands of paintings, the epitome of picture-perfect. There it sat, smooth, slender, and utterly, utterly flawless, residing exactly center of Draco's absolutely symmetrical face.

As Harry's lips brushed Draco's nose, Draco's golden eyelashes fluttered. His long, delicate eyelashes simply made for his intensely sensual stares, his death glares, his shining shimmering eyes, that seemed to light up and laugh whenever he mocked someone.

Which happened to Harry quite a lot.

Harry's lips grazed Draco's smooth temple, right by his hairline.

"Don't mess up the hair, Potter," Draco whispered.

Draco could feel Harry smile into his skin, feel the slight nod of understanding.

He could also feel Harry somewhere else, which, in turn, made Draco smile.

Draco began to make his way down Harry's throat, leaving raw, red marks wherever he sucked with his perfect aristocratic mouth. His mouth went on to encircle Harry's nipples, playing with them with his subtle tongue until they were hard and tense.

To this, Harry let out a groan of desire. He couldn't take it anymore. He grasped Draco's arm and pulled him up, searching for his mouth like a niffer searching for gold.

Their lips met, crashed, fought, lolled, and pushed in what could only be described as throes of passion. Harry moaned into Draco's mouth; this intense kissing was not enough, his desire was too great, too large, to be satisfied.

Their hands explored the crevices of each other's bodies, flowed over the smooth, taunt skin of their stomachs and backs, enjoying the tension between them, this sexual tension so thick that it made Hagrid's aptly named rock cakes look as fluffy as a cloud.

Now, you might be wondering where Harry learned such lustful actions? It most definitely did not come from experience, and to a certain extent, such things are instinctual. However, as an almost full-grown male, having spent many, many hours in the library, he was bound to stumble upon some more sordid reading. He was no stranger to the idea of two guys together, but he had never before pictured himself involved in something so raunchy and taboo.

But could he help it? No, his head was swimming in a feverish daze of drunkenness, and his slightly blurry and unstable vision worked in cahoots with Draco's femininity to make him look even more like a member of the opposite sex, despite certain obvious pieces of evidence pressed into Harry right now...

Harry groan in sexual pleasure as Draco tasted and teased nearly every erogenous zone in his body, having never been so elated in his life. He willingly let his mind fall from the topic of contemplating Draco's pseudo-holy beauty, and let Draco take hold of him in a very fallen-angel kind of way.

As Draco stroked him to a near-climax, Harry did his best to hang on to his wits, to keep from floating off in the plethora of emotions that were now overwhelming him.

Bloody hell, if being sexually active was going to be like this, why in the hell did he not start this sooner? Seventeen was way, way too late.

Anyway, since Harry did plunge so deeply into new experiences, and this was undoubtedly a new experience, it was no surprise that Draco was the one to take charge and have his way in this sexual battle, where two enemies were meeting for the very first time.

As things escalated to what is known as thrones of pleasure, Harry's mind blissfully wandered into never-before seen meadows and valleys and waterfalls, enjoying every scorching touch Draco let linger on his taunt and toned body, every lick Draco sent towards his earlobes, and every word mumbled into his ear.

And if was Draco was saying was any indication, their days as two enemies, two opposite arguers, were over. Apparently, Draco had never before enjoyed himself this much, and was certainly not going to let past, un-drunken grudges hold him back from something so...nice.

Thus is the end of enemies Harry and Draco, Gryffindor and Slytherin, on this wacky, wild Wednesday.