Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

It's simple, really. I love J.K. Rowling, and I would never attempt to take any credit for her beautiful characters or stories. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't take offense.

Chapter 5: We Might As Well Be Strangers

Draco was sitting on a window ledge in the Astronomy Tower.

This was where he had come when his father had been sent to Azkaban, and he had wanted to contemplate the destruction of his family. It was his sanctuary from his House when he failed to catch the snitch. When Pansy had found him with Blaise and made him come out to all of Slytherin, this was where he had come to think and plot his revenge against her. Those had been the worst moments of his life. So why had he come here tonight? He felt like a tiny part of his heart had broken; just stopped working, as if it were a fragile toy.

How could you, Harry?

As soon as he thought it, he hated himself for it. What right did he have? He didn't even have feelings for the stupid git.

How can you be sure? a small voice in his head asked. Think about why you feel like your heart is breaking.

He sighed. If he was really honest with himself, it wasn't that it was Blaise. It was that it was anyone at all. How could this have happened to him? When had things changed? He was the Slytherin Ice Prince. And he had never, ever taken things further than sex with anyone. He prided himself on never really feeling. Now apparently, because of stupid Potter, that was all shot to hell.

Harry, that annoying little voice reminded him. You love calling him by his first name, even if he can't hear you.

Draco wished that the voice would just sod off. His eyed pricked annoyingly again.

Malfoys do not cry.

Malfoys do not cry, especially over boys like Harry Potter.

A tear dropped down Draco's cheek, crystal pure, perfect, and fell until it shattered on the unforgiving, cold stone floor. Draco decided that he could cry. After all, he reasoned, the boy who was the cause of his tears was nothing like the Harry Potter he knew.

* * *

He left for the Slytherin dorms at 3:43 am. Potter would be gone. He was known for never spending the night with his lovers.

That's all Blaise is to him. He can't possibly feel more for him.

Draco walked as quietly as possible to the seventh year dorm, hoping that he didn't accidentally wake Blaise and have to hear about his night. Silently, he opened the door. And then he wished he had stayed in the Astronomy Tower. Harry lay on Blaise's bed, his arms and legs entwined with those of the dark haired Slytherin's. They were both under the blankets, asleep. Draco felt ill. They looked so comfortable with each other.

How long has this been going on? I didn't even know Blaise was seeing someone.

The blonde slid in between his own sheets and turned his back on the sleeping boys. It took a long time for him to fall asleep.

* * *

He was awoken by Harry's soft laughter.

"Malfoy's in the room. We can't do that now."

"Come on, Harry. Draco's asleep. Besides, he wouldn't mind."

Draco cracked an eye open. Blaise and Harry both had their heads under the covers, and they were clearly doing more than talking.

There is no way in hell I am going to be in here while they're doing that.

Growling, the blonde Slytherin threw back his covers and swung his legs around to the side of the bed.

"Zabini, your 'friend' better be gone when I get back," he snarled before stomping down the corridor to the toilet.

"Shit, he's in a terrible mood. Let's wait until he's finished, then we'll go take showers," he heard Blaise whisper as the door slammed shut behind him.

Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise had always been wary of his temper, and with good reason. His temper was known as volatile at the best of times.

When he reached the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and got into the shower. As the hot water streamed down his back and shoulders, he realized that his neck stung. He swore, trying to think of how he could have hurt himself there. It wasn't from Quidditch; practice had gone well. Maybe he'd been bitten by some sort of insect outside? No, he didn't think so. He frowned.

Bitten.

Oh.

It was where Potter had bitten him. He traced the mark and tried to forget what he had just remembered. He tried to forget, because if he didn't do it now, he was never going to. But he couldn't. He closed his eyes and imagined strong fingers gripping his hips and lips whispering in his ear. He wished he didn't have to forget, either. He teased his fingers along his now hard length. Sighing with pleasure, he grasped himself more firmly. He pictured Harry down on his knees in front of him. That was all it took. He groaned as he climaxed, his vision blurring and seeing white.

"Thinking about me, Malfoy?"

Draco spun around and grabbed his towel. Potter was standing at the door, wearing a similar towel around his waist and looking unbearably amused.

Oh God. Who knew he was hiding that body underneath his Quidditch robes?

Had Draco not just climaxed so spectacularly, he would have become hard again from just looking at Harry's firm chest and flat stomach.

"Harry? Where are you?"

Blaise sounded like he was heading in their direction. Realizing that it would be in his best interest to stop gaping at Blaise's lover and get himself under control, Draco dropped his gaze. Potter just stood there, smirking. Blaise came up behind the Gryffindor and wrapped his arms possessively around his waist.

"Morning, Draco. Come on, baby, let's get under the water."

Harry smiled at the dark haired Slytherin. As he followed Blaise to an empty shower stall, he passed by Draco and winked.

Draco grabbed his clothes and ran.