Tug Of War

The sound of heavy breathing filled Draco Malfoy's ears. But, it was not his breathing.

It was Harry's.

Harry Potter. His sworn enemy for seven years. His competition for attention, for the spotlight. And he had just slept with him.

Again.

Yes, Again. Again meaning the fifth or eighth time. Or perhaps, the fifteenth or eighteenth time. Draco could never keep track of such trivial things. But, was fucking Potter really that trivial?

It had all started one night when they were quarreling, as usual. They had always quarreled, ever since they were boys, but Draco had found that he rather liked quarreling with Mr. Potter. Oh, he had always liked quarreling with him, but he had never liked it. He had never retained that feeling of lust that he found himself feeling during their little spats. He had never felt a longing to take Harry and roughly have his way with him.

And that's how it had been that first time. Rough. Draco had not known what he was doing and he supposed that Harry had not either. Otherwise, he probably would not have been underneath Draco so willingly, or any of the times after that.

Draco remembered the first time clearly. Harry, like himself, had grown accustom to taking moonlit rides on his broom. Of course, they took their rides at different times and on different days, but perhaps by fate's grace, they had gone out on the same night.

Harry had been flying in the Qudditch Stadium first, but Draco did not care. The fact that Harry had made it there first angered him.

"Come down, Potter!" yelled Draco, shaking a fist at him. But, Harry was too far from the ground to hear him. Scowling, Draco mounted his broom and began to rise into the air.

Seeing Draco below him, Harry stopped his lap and sunk down to Draco's level, facing him. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco could hear the irritated tone his voice carried and it only caused him to become more irritated himself. "I could ask you the same."

"What does it look like?" Harry shot back.

"I'm here for the same thing," remarked Draco quite nastily.

"I was here first. Besides, flying at night is for real flyers, so I suggest that you wait until there's some daylight to light your way. Wouldn't want to get hurt, now would you?"

Harry's comment made Draco's blood boil.

"That means go away," said Harry when he saw that Draco had not made any motion of moving.

Suddenly, before either of them could think another thought, Draco jumped from his broom onto Harry's. Harry produced a strangled yell as he and Draco fell to the earth. Desperately, he tried to claw Draco off him, who had Harry in a firm headlock and with the other arm, was beating at him, but it was in vain. They landed on the ground, Harry first.

Draco stood up, gave Harry a swift kick, and dusted himself off. He looked down at Harry and saw that his glasses had fallen off. Then, he spotted the glasses themselves a little ways off. He had not planned jumping onto Harry's broom like that. It had surprised him, but he had done it. It was crazy, but he had done it.

"You're mad!" exclaimed Harry, still trying to get his bearings. "Absolutely barkers...oh great. I've lost my glasses."

Draco walked and retrieved them, tossing them onto Harry. Then, he held his hand up, palm open. "Broom!" he called. It was still up in the air and immediately after Draco called it, it firmly placed itself into its owner's hand.

The sound of chuckling reached Draco's ears. Slowly, it turned into a quiet laugh and then full out laughter. Draco looked back at Harry, who was holding his middle, laughing heartily to himself. Now it was he who thought Harry was barking. Perhaps he hit his head in the landing. "What are you laughing at, Potter?" he questioned.

"I just..." Harry began to laugh again. Finally, he caught his breath. "I just thought about how crazy you are. I mean, really. You're really fucking crazy! Nobody would just...would just..." His laughter consumed his words.

Looking down at him for a few moments, Draco too chortled a bit and then began to laugh himself. He knew what Harry was trying to say. Nobody would just jump onto somebody's broom like that. Nobody who wanted to stay alive, anyway. But he had been so angry. No one made him as angry as Potter. And Harry did not even make him that angry until only recently. And then, he felt it. The lusty feeling that plagued him whenever he fought with Harry.

Ignoring it, he wiped a few escaping tears away and held a hand out to Harry. Why not be generous just this once? They were both sharing the same state of mind, after all. Amusement. Laughter. And anyway, it would be the only form of generosity he would ever grant Harry.

"You know," said Harry. "It's a good thing that we weren't too far from the ground." He latched onto Draco's outstretched arm and began to haul himself up. Draco, in turn, grimaced when he heard a few of Harry's bones loudly crack. "Otherwise, your weight would have killed me in the landing for sure," continued Harry.

Draco let go of Harry's hand and he landed on the ground again. There Potter went. Irritating him to no end. And it did not help Draco that the lust feeling was not subsiding, but growing.

"Hey, what'd you--" Harry was cut off when Draco threw his broom aside and pounced on him, punching him in the eye. "That's for your stupid remark, Potter!" he exclaimed. He watched as Harry gripped his glasses, whose right lens had been knocked out with Draco's punch. Draco began to rise.

"Oh no you don't," mumbled Harry, throwing his glasses aside. As Draco bent down to collect his broom, he tackled him.

"That's a dirty thing to do, Potter!" cried Draco as the side of his face was being ground into the earth.

"You would know about dirt, wouldn't you, Malfoy?" retorted Harry. "Now kiss it!" Harry lifted the back of Draco's head with his hair and attempted to push his face into the ground. But somehow, Draco tossed Harry off him and tried to stand. Harry, in turn, tackled Draco once again. This time he landed on his back, allowing Harry to get a punch in, square in the eye. "How do you like that, Malfoy?" he spat.

Draco just lay there, panting with Harry still on top of him. His eye hurt like hell but he did not look away from Harry's venomous gaze. In fact, he too could produce such a gaze. And he did, saying, "Now we're even." And then he did something that was even more alarming than jumping onto Harry's broomstick.

He kissed him. He pulled Harry down by his neck collar and kissed him, hard and quick. Then, he pushed Harry off him just as quickly as he kissed him.

Draco wanted to break into a run. He wanted to run from the desire growing inside him. He wanted to run from the kiss...but he did not. He just picked up his broom and began to make his way off the Quidditch grounds.

"Malfoy!" called Harry from behind him.

Draco did not stop.

"Draco!"

He stopped and turned. Draco. Harry had called him Draco.

Harry walked towards him and stopped just in front of him. "No," he said, simply.

"No what?"

There was hesitation; Draco could see it in Harry's movements. But he did it anyway. Harry, placing his hand behind Draco's head and bringing him towards him, kissed him. But it was not like Draco's. It was gentle and lingering. And then he spoke. "Now we're even."

Oh yes, Draco remembered it well. Of course he would remember it well. It was the first time that they had slept together. And in the end, he had said what he had learned to say every time.

"It was only a fuck."

It was only a fuck, was it not? He just wanted to get into Harry's pants, did he not? He just wanted some fun. There was no real passion. No real connection. No real promise. Just rough, dirty fucking.

Just the way that Draco liked it. Or did he?

Draco propped up on one elbow and looked down at the sleeping Potter. It was times like these that he was glad he had his own room. Special Seventh Year privileges. It came along with being a top student. Now he did not have to worry about Avier, his best friend whom had been his roommate for two years. Now he did not have to worry about anyone at all.

He did not have to worry about feeling obligated to call Harry "Potter." When they had their moments, it was just Harry. Harry and Draco.

Draco gazed down at him. Suddenly, he wanted to touch him. Touching Harry was nothing new, but the kind of touch he wanted to give was different. He just wanted to touch him and only touch him. He just wanted to feel Harry's skin beneath his. He just wanted to stroke Harry's hair. He just wanted to feel his warmth.

Or perhaps, a kiss to the forehead. A tender and sweet kiss like the ones he saw Weasley giving Granger. Maybe even making love to Harry, and not "only a fuck."

It was impossible. He could not do that. He could never touch him. He could never kiss him, or even love him. There was no way to overcome impossibility.

Just then, Harry stirred, but he did not wake. Draco sighed. He was glad. He still wanted to watch Harry and this was the only time that he could. Perhaps he would not feel this way tomorrow. Maybe the feeling would diminish even sooner then tomorrow.

But right now, all he felt was impossibility. And it tugged at his heart.