Fate

Fate

The falling rain splattered onto his oval-shaped glasses and unruly black hair as he walked across the vast Hogwarts grounds. He wanted a break from his pushy friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger; they kept on asking him questions like "How are you feeling?" and "Are you okay?", and to be frank, he was aggravated. He just wanted them to shut the hell up and keep to themselves, you know?

Starting his 6^th year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was constantly badgered by pointless questions about his health and sanity. Ever since the year before, the year his godfather was murdered by one of Voldemort's minions, he was much more reserved and quiet. Many thought he was grieving, but Harry knew it was much more than that: he was guilty. It was Harry's fault that Sirius fell through that veil, and nobody, not even Dumbledore, could change his mind. He was so guilty that it hurt to talk about anything relating to him.

He was pondering all of this when he was rudely interrupted by a couple of shouting voices. The sounds were drifting from the Forbidden Forest, and he instantly recognized one of them: the sneering, scornful voice of his infamous and well known, blond arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy. This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to lose. Maybe he could catch Malfoy doing something illegal and finally get him expelled. He hid behind Hagrid's Hut, glanced at the trees and caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair that glittered from the constantly pouring raindrops.

Yep, that's dear old Malfoy for you, thought Harry. He couldn't get one moment of peace and quiet without the bastard ruining it. He soon recognized the boy he was shouting at. He was tall, with a long mane of brown hair that fell lazily in his blue eyes. His name was Blaise Zabini.

"I SAW you getting it on with Pansy in the common room!!" yelled Malfoy, hurt clearly resounding in his trembling voice.

Harry had never seen Malfoy in this state. It was impossible! Who could break through Malfoy's wall of ice and hurt him that badly?

"Well, that was only to get your attention, honey, because you've been ignoring me ever since we decided to go out.

Oh. My. God. Honey? Going out? They can't be going out! But that's absurd, thought Harry. For one thing, they are both boys, ugh! He shuddered at the mental image.

Actually, a tiny voice in Harry's head said, this mental image isn't so bad...

NO!! Don't go there, Harry, said a slightly louder voice! You will not get aroused thinking of Malfoy doings those things to another boy!

-You can keep telling yourself that, Harry.--

"Well, I've had it up to here-" Malfoy lifted his hands high above his head-"with your playing around! It's over", he yelled shrilly. "You can do whatever you want with that bitch because I am officially NOT you boyfriend anymore!"

Harry was actually more surprised to find out that nobody had heard the deafening shouts the small, pale boy was emitting. Harry cringed when Malfoy ran over to Blaise and slapped his tanned face, making the other boy start in surprise.

After some time, Blaise was obviously sobbing, for when said "Okay, if that's what you want...I'll just go..." his voice quavered and broke. The Slytherin strode quickly out of the darkening forest and headed back to Hogwarts' fortress.

The blonde slowly slid down the nearest tree trunk with his hands covering his silver eyes. He stayed in this sitting position for around five minutes before Harry summoned up the courage to reveal his hiding place. He was not one to pity his enemies, but Malfoy looked so hurt, so pathetic, that his stomach lurched just looking at his tangled hair and blood-shot eyes. He looked almost endearing, leaning against that tree trunk, hair getting wetter by the minute from the raging storm overhead, washing out the liberal amounts of gel.

Confusion and nerves overtaking him, he approached his enemy cautiously, butterflies in his stomach and fresh droplets of sweat forming on his brow.

Why am I so apprehensive? This should not be happening...Malfoy has never looked even half-way decent, he thought hastily.

Almost five feet from Malfoy's sitting spot, the blond lifted his head weakly and gazed into Harry's green eyes. There was no sneer or smirk invading his flawless face, and he looked like a entirely different person. For an instant, he almost forgot about those five years of loathing glares and pranks between himself and the Slytherin. For one moment, there was unadulterated emotion on the blonde's face that had made Harry flush in pleasure and astonishment. The moment was going, going...

"Sod off, Potter, I'm not in the mood to use my incredible wit for your sake at the moment," he mumbled, putting his head back down. Gone.

Harry was having none of that bullshit. He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he sat next to Malfoy. He was not in a hurry to leave either.

"Why are you here? You should just go back to your little friends and plan to save the world once again, Wonder Boy," spat Malfoy maliciously, desperately trying to rid himself of the company of the black-haired boy. He was shifting nervously, trying to hide his uncontrollable arousal. Harry flushed again.

"That was uncalled for," snorted Harry, in mock hurt, hiding the blush. He was actually being civil to Malfoy, of all people. What's wrong with me?, he thought morosely.

"Why the hell are you talking to me? I'm your nemesis, remember, Ferret Boy? Junior Death Eater? You've hated me since we were young and now, you are talking amiably with me," muttered Malfoy, doubt clearly evident in his voice. "Bloody brave Gryffindor," he added. He still had his head between his legs.

"Well, I heard your shouting match with Zabini and I want to know what that was all about..." Harry was actually really curious, because he had actually suspected that Malfoy liked other boys, but never a slut, a.k.a. Blaise Zabini.

Malfoy's head snapped up so fast that Harry was sure it could've given him a whip-lash.

"Oh, just bloody peachy. My sexual orientation will be posted all over Witch Weekly by tomorrow morning and many, many hopeful girls will have their hearts shattered to know that I just don't work for that company! Jeez, my life is officially over...." Malfoy's voice was cracking, and Harry fervently wished that he wouldn't start crying again. That was all he needed, a whimpering Slytherin with a sexy haircut. Don't go there, Harry.

Harry had actually assumed that Malfoy was gay when he would shoot Seamus Finnegan these really sexy looks across the Great Hall, but he kept that to himself.

"Actually, I'm bisexual, so I'm not going to judge you...." Holy royal crap. I just told Malfoy something that could attract a lot of publicity!

The pureblood looked scandalized, then shocked, then angry, then hurt, then hopeful. It was actually pretty funny from Harry's point of view. Then, he chuckled "I can see it now, the headlines in the Daily Prophet. Instead of the Boy Who Lived, it will be The Boy Who Loves Doing Boys: Harry Potter has a new reason to be different."

Harry was mortified that he was having this particular conversation with Hogwarts' hottest 16 year-old, and that said 16 year-old was actually laughing at him--again.

"So, who does the resident saint of Gryffindor have the hotts for, Seamus Finnegan? He's taken, not really good in bed. Sodding tramp..." Malfoy continued like this for a while, while Harry's face colored visibly. He pressed his lips shut, from fear of revealing his secret.

"Well?" Malfoy chided, making Harry blush more profoundly. Harry indeed liked the boy he was sitting next to, but he had been denying it ever since he found out he was attracted to both men and women.

"Nobody," mumbled Harry airily, looking anywhere but at Malfoy's angelic face, his own face becoming closer and closer to the shade of Ron's hair.

"It's me, isn't it?" Malfoy sounded hopeful, but almost as if dreading the answer. Harry, oh bold Harry, took his chance and looked his beautiful rival in the eye and nodded, sweat forming on his hands.

When Harry didn't start speaking, Malfoy slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, taking deep breaths and muttering softly to himself. At last, unexpectedly, he pounced on Harry, crushing him--more like pinning him--to the tree. He then slammed his lips onto Harry and began licking the other boy's lips.

His hands were running up and down Harry's arms, feeling every muscle, every imperfection of the Gryffindor. Harry was overcome with passion and lust, and he was moaning incoherently into Draco's warm mouth. Wow, this isn't that bad. He kissed Draco back, with as much passion as he could muster, rubbing his tongue on Draco's and running his hands in the other boy's hair.

Harry's body filled with electricity and pleasure--he never wanted this perfect moment to end. Taking a breather, panting, they started undoing each other's ties and shirts. Malfoy was sucking the pulse point on Harry's neck, while the other boy shoved his hands through Malfoy's silky, platinum bond hair while gasping softly. They were both feeling very warm in the area of their groins, and they were soon pressing closer against each other, causing incredible friction.

Half-naked and straddling each other, resting on the tree, sweating and moaning each other's names, they were oblivious to the hurried footsteps headed in their direction. They were found red-lipped and panting, shirtless, by none other than Professor Severus Snape, their Potions Master. At the sight of the two horny boys, he screamed like a banshee and swore.

"Ew, Draco! Why him?? Of all the boys at Hogwarts, you had to pick bloody Harry Potter! I told you that you could do anyone you wanted, as long as it wasn't the very boy who your father has wanted to kill, like, forever!!" His eyes were going crazy in their sockets. "And what do I find? I find you, with a leg on each side of Harry Potter, about to get it on with him on the edge of the Forbidden Forest!!"

"Your father is going to suffer from a premature heart attack, or implode or something and it will be my entire fault!!" he growled loudly before continuing.

"He's already pissed off that you cannot produce another heir, so what do you think he'll do when he finds out that you are currently about to screw the boy that Voldemort has been after for 16 years?? He will probably die of shock or slip into a deep coma! How would you like that to be on your conscience until you die? And stop rubbing against yourselves, I'm going to lose my lunch..." He said this all very fast, without taking a breath, and he looked exhausted by the end of his little speech. Harry was flabbergasted to hear his overbearing, spiteful teacher talk to Draco as if he were his own son, or a relative. Maybe he's his godfather? Why is he scolding MY Draco and insulting me when I'm in front of him? Harry thought.

Anyways, Snape had just given Harry enough bait to use against him. Looking at Draco and then at the greasy professor, and then Draco again, he purposefully began nibbling Draco's earlobe, and then is lower lip, eliciting moans and bucks for both actions. Harry was watching Snape from the corner of his eye the whole time he did it, too. He was ecstatic. The professor was beyond disgusted. Gagging, he quickly fled the premises.

"Finally! God damn! That greasy guy should get laid."

And the constant kissing was followed by even more pleasurable things, most of which are too explicit to explain in detail. Why don't you just use your imagination?

FIN