Notes

People say I'm crazy doing what I'm doing

Well, they give me all kinds of warnings to save me from ruin

When I say that I'm ok they look at me kind of strange

Surely you're not happy now you no longer play the game

Watching the wheels - John Lennon

--

Notes

First, I will blindfold you;

Harry looked at the small piece of parchment on the table. Two weeks ago, on Monday, he had received that note--the first one. He had been doing his potions homework when he discovered it in his book. He looked around but he had been alone at that table in the common room; Hermione and Ron were probably lost somewhere in the school. At the time, he had had no idea who could have sent it. Harry wondered what it meant. Was it a threat? If so, why not I'll kill you or you're dead?

Harry was in the common room again today. He waited a long time for it to be deserted and then, carefully, placed several pieces of parchment on the table in front of him. Now, he read them all together, remembering, and listened to their story while he waited.

***

then I'll place my hands on your back

That unsigned note had followed the first one. It was clear that someone was trying to unnerve him. Well, he wouldn't be scared so easily, because he had faced worse things than a couple pieces of parchment.

He had received it during dinner that first day, placed below his plate. He saw a corner of parchment and pulled it out carefully, trying to keep anybody from noticing what he was doing. There was no need to worry his friends. Ron and Ginny sat by his side and Hermione in front of him, so if someone had slipped him the piece of paper they should have seen it, but nobody seemed to notice.

and bend your head to the left.

This note had appeared during breakfast, so for a brief moment he had started to wonder if he had enemies in his own house, but soon he remembered who else could have done it: house elves. Harry decided to go down to the kitchens and ask about the notes, but he had to be on time for his next class so he resolved to do it later that day, after dinner.

'So what's next?' he wondered humorously, 'Then I'll grab an axe?' Whoever had been writing those notes didn't know him at all. He wasn't afraid of being killed--he had faced death before and he'd have to do it again--he was afraid that the people he loved would be hurt because of him, so this kind of menace didn't have an effect.

***

Harry lifted the next piece of parchment, the one that had startled him completely:

After that, I'll move nearer so you can feel my body next to yours, and kiss your neck, slowly.

'What kind of enemy would phrase threats this way?' he had wondered. Ok, maybe this wasn't a menace, or at least not a regular one. At present, he read the note again and smiled slightly, feeling a curious sensation: expectation about the rest of the letters and about what was ahead. For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined those lips on his nape...

He thought back to when he had received the note at the end of Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy had been laughing at Hagrid, and Harry had defended the half giant--nothing new really; the Slytherin was so childish, still trying the same old tricks and it was annoying that they still worked. The incident almost ended with a fight, but Hermione had stopped him. When he walked away from Draco and his minions, Ron had said, "Harry, You dropped something." Harry ran to pick it up at the same time as Malfoy noticed it.

Like in Quidditch, he was faster and snatched the small bit of parchment just before Malfoy reached it. Avoiding the Slytherin's gaze, he glanced at it stunned, and then put it away in his book, when a malevolent voice said: "Is it from your girlfriend, Potter?" He felt himself blush and strode fast towards the castle, while Draco was still laughing and Ron and Hermione were left wondering where he was going because the class wasn't over yet.

Draco's comment had made him forget to go down to the kitchens. So that was it, a silly girl thinking he was a hero or Lockhart. It was not so important. In fact, it wasn't the first time someone wrote to him. The only strange thing about this was that Witch Weekly had published nothing about him lately. Luckily.

***

On Wednesday, he had received no more notes, and he was partly relieved and partly intrigued by that; currently, he knew the notes followed a pattern, and a day without notes meant full stop. He passed his finger over the piece of parchment lightly, and grabbed the next one. On Thursday, he found no notes in his books, no notes while eating... He had started to think everything was over until that evening. He was going to bed, and when he pulled the sheets away he saw it.

I'll pull up your robes, and I'll caress your shoulders with my hands, feeling the reactions of your skin under my fingers, taking one step back just to stare at your body...

Somebody had made it to his bed.

Alarmed, he decided to go down to the kitchens immediately, but the boys were still awake, so he had to wait. When Harry was sure that Ron and the others were asleep, he put on his invisibility cloak, took the Marauder's Map, and left Gryffindor Tower.

Some house elves were already preparing food for the next day, while others seemed ready to clean the castle. He was spotted quickly and offered tons of food while almost being pushed out of the kitchens.

"Harry Potter!" Winky was toddling in his direction, trying to keep her balance and didn't look happy to see him. Her rags where just like the last time he had seen her. When she arrived by his side she spoke in a deep and drowsy voice: "Harry Potter must go. Winky says nothing."

"I haven't asked yet!" Harry was surprised, but something had been confirmed: the house elves were passing the notes. As soon as they noticed Winky's mistake, some of the other elves tried to push Harry away without success. "Who's--?" He knelt on the floor facing Winky pushing aside the other elves. Winky didn't answer. "C'mon Winky, tell me who's--" he began, but another house elf grabbed her by the waist and began to drag her away. Harry advanced a little and disentangled the elf's hands. "Tell me, please." She denied him several times with her head, panic shinning in her eyes.

"He'll hurt--" she placed a hand over her mouth and dashed towards the wall to punish herself, but Harry grabbed her and saw a pair of pleading eyes. Another house elf spoke, "We'll be hurt, Harry Potter."

He didn't ask anything else, and let them guide him outside the kitchens without struggling. He went back to bed, but couldn't sleep. Winky had clearly said he and that was something. A boy was unexpected, but thinking about it, the handwriting, though very refined, was strong enough to belong to a boy. So... which boy would do that? Moreover, why? What was the meaning of this?

He had started to wonder if Ron was sending him these letters, since they had always been together whenever the notes had appeared--well except the first one and that had been inside a book. However, he knew Ron would never do something like this. It was more sophisticated, more cunning, more wicked than what Ron would have done if...he wanted him? Then it struck him: someone wanted him? No, it couldn't be. It was a kind of joke, wasn't it?

***

On Friday, he received nothing and spent the day wondering who it could be, and why he had sent nothing that day. There was still a chance that a Gryffindor had done it. He stared at every boy around him--Colin, Neville, Dean, Seamus--until he started to receive curious glances. 'Harry, they'll end up believing you're interested in them,' he thought. When he awoke on Saturday, he hoped everything was over, maybe having been a silly thing from a lower year, and so it seemed because no notes appeared during breakfast or lunch. But one did show up in the library.

He was studying with Ron and Hermione, preparing an essay for McGonagall. They needed a book about dual transformations: transforming two objects into one, not merging them, but creating a third one which was completely different. Harry was waiting for Pansy to give back the book, and she was taking her time knowing that the Gryffindors needed it. She had laid it on the table, closed, and was trying to stroke Malfoy's hair while he was trying to stop her. Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. "Are you using the book?" she said pointing at it.

Pansy's eyes flashed. "Yes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a sudden move to grab the book anyway. Ron and Harry froze. Draco placed his hand over the cover, holding down the book on the table. "The lady said we're using it, Mudblood."

Harry and Ron stood, but Madam Pince had heard the noise and asked, "What's going on?"

"I was asking Pansy if I could borrow that book," answered Hermione calmly.

"We've already told her we're using it," said Pansy opening the book and laying it on her lap.

"I'm sorry girl, you'll have to wait. It's the only copy available," said Madam Pince.

Hermione fumed all the way back to her chair, and couldn't concentrate properly anymore, so she decided to take a walk to calm herself. Ron opted to go with her. 'One of these days they'll admit they're going out,' Harry thought while he declined Hermione's offer to go with them.

Harry decided to work on his Potions assignment, of which he had five inches left to finish. The library was silent and he saw Pansy leaving without Malfoy. Ginny and Luna were at one of the tables too, and he heard a couple of words being whispered and, moments later, the sound of parchments being rolled up and inkwells closed. He was writing about the effects of fern mixed with mistletoe when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. Ginny was by his side, lifting something from the floor, while Luna waited for her at the library's door.

"Harry," she said. "you knocked this off the table with your elbow." She handed him a piece of parchment scribbled with the handwriting he was beginning to get used to. He took it hastily and saw Ginny blush, faltering, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...It wasn't my intention to read it." But Harry read the note without answering her.

Next I'll kiss your back, nibbling wherever I feel like it: you're mine, and I'll lick the line of your backbone, rubbing your buttocks and waiting for your reactions, watching your body ask for more while I nip your shoulders.

"Damn it!" shouted Harry. She thought that the outburst was meant for her and gave him an uneasy look. "Sorry, Ginny. You have nothing to do with this."

She began to walk away but Harry grabbed her arm. "Wait. Don't tell anybody. "

"Who is she?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure." She looked at him quizzically. "But don't tell anybody about it."

***

He went to dinner with words floating through his head.

I'll lick the line of your backbone

rubbing your buttocks

feeling the reactions of your skin under my fingers...

They were beginning to sound appealing in his mind, though he didn't quite want to admit it to himself. It wasn't that he was flattered by them, but he felt that the notes had awoken something in him: he was more conscious of his own body, of every casual touch...

With the hangings of his four-poster bed drawn, Harry spent the night reading the notes to the light of his wand. In the morning, he tried to convince himself that he had read the notes just to find out who was writing them. But he couldn't pretend; he was beginning to imagine delicate fingers and lips on his skin. And why not? It was an innocent relief.

***

Next was a note in his own handwriting, the original one lost.

I'll keep you close, pressing my body against yours while I stroke your chest. I'll linger caressing your nipples and after a while I'll move my hands towards your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear, my fingertips sliding to tease your thighs gently.

That one had appeared in his cauldron on Monday. The first time he had read the parchment he gasped audibly and Snape had not only noticed it, but also seen him slip it into his book. The entire class was staring at him. 'What's wrong with me? Why did I feel a shiver go down my spine?'

"What's wrong, Potter?" Snape was clearly curious about the look Harry had on his face at that moment. "Is this potion too complicated for you?" Snape pointed at the blackboard where all the ingredients of the Restoring Potion were described. Malfoy laughed.

"Or are you hiding something in your book?"

Harry froze as his mind decided to stop working. Snape strode by his cauldron and made a gesture with his hand, indicating that he wanted the note.

"No," said Harry, trying to appear composed.

"I saw you, Potter." Snape spat the last word. "Give it to me or you will lose fifty points from your house."

Harry felt the whole class staring at him attentively. He set his jaw and, as poised as he could, opened the book, looked for the note and handed it over reluctantly, all the while staring into his cauldron and feeling the rage burn inside him at the thought of the humiliation he would go through when Snape inevitably read it aloud. All the students were waiting, holding their breaths , as the professor unfolded the parchment carefully.

It was then that it happened: the note started to burn. Snape dropped it in shock, but soon his features contorted in anger and he looked at Harry as if he had just fooled him. A buzz of surprise arose.

"Tell me Potter, what did it say?" Snape spoke, trying to intimidate him.

"I didn't read it," Harry said, knowing Snape would never believe him even if it had been true. He felt a wave of relief go through him, but it was suddenly stopped by a noise that came from the Slytherin part of the class as Snape was announcing the punishment.

Malfoy was smirking proudly, murmuring something to Pansy, who laughed in response. Then, Draco looked in his direction and sneered. He was so overconfident, so superior, acting as if he had won points for his house. Just at that moment, something struck Harry. Sophisticated. Library. Cunning. Wicked. House elves. Potions. Care of Magical Creatures.

No, it couldn't be him.

Malfoy couldn't have caused him to shiver and pant.

He didn't want him to.

Harry wasn't noticing Snape's look of hatred anymore. Of all the boys at school...him? He prepared his potion absentmindedly, so it ended up being blue instead of violet and fuming though it shouldn't; he ended up in detention and lost fifty points from Gryffindor. A week of detention because of a stupid note. Stupid Snape. Stupid himself for letting the notes affect him.

"What was that, Harry? How did you manage to make it burn?" Ron asked him at the end of the class but Harry didn't answer.

Hermione spoke, "Was it wandless magic?" Harry shrugged. Hermione sighed and continued, "Harry there's something wrong, isn't there?"

Harry managed to say, "No."

However, Hermione's gaze told him she didn't believe it.

***

On Tuesday, he received nothing, and discovered himself waiting for it. In fact, what was worse: he was searching for more notes and, during dinner,he stared at Malfoy who was talking and laughing, completely oblivious to Harry Potter. The Gryffindor studied the Slytherin's features, his hands, his lips, the way his hair moved, the expressions on his face, his delicate way of holding a fork, the line of his neck...

Ron noticed he wasn't dining. "Hey, mate, is something wrong?" Harry denied with a gesture and started working on his. He couldn't explain what was going on, somehow it seemed too late; he knew the notes where affecting him. How could Ron understand what had happened in Potions? If he was right and Malfoy was writing those, how could he explain...? So he shook his head, and tried to change the subject.

He went to bed thinking about the whole issue and about Malfoy who was now slipping into his thoughts continuously. Next week they were playing Quidditch against Ravenclaw, so he had to keep himself controlled, had to forget about those notes or he would get more detention and couldn't practice. No. He had to forget about those notes or he would end up mad.

He dreamt he was in the library, searching for a book in the Restricted Section. Nobody was around so he could grab any book he wanted, but strangely, the books had no titles on them and the pages were blank. He walked up to a bookshelf and saw that on it there was only one book, and this one did have a title: Draco Malfoy. Harry opened the book carefully, looking around as if he was doing something wrong. There was a picture on the first page of Malfoy smiling, not smirking, and when the boy in the picture turned his eyes to Harry, he smiled openly, glad to see him. Then, Harry felt someone behind him, closed the book, and turned around nervously. The real Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him smiling the same way the picture had. Suddenly he spoke, "You're mine, Potter."

Harry woke up panting noisily and grabbed his head with his hands. He could only see Malfoy . Smiling. At him. Perfect white blond hair. Perfect face. Perfect hands.

Fucking perfect Malfoy.

In his dream, he had felt the sudden urge to kiss him. And when he awoke, that desire had remained.

***

Classes crept by slowly, no notes anywhere. And he had searched, aware that his hands were shaking: in books and cauldrons, on the floor, in pockets, under glasses and in dishes... And even worse: in Hermione's and Ron's books, their cauldrons and their cloaks, until they noticed, of course, and asked him. He denied everything.

Ron, being the new captain of the team, had scheduled Quidditch practice for that evening and Harry hoped that it would prevent him from thinking about Malfoy. Ron's practices were usually hard, and with the next game in mind, this one would be worse. Ravenclaw's new seeker flew almost as fast as Cedric, and seemed to be doing very well in Cho's place.

It was a nice day to fly and he practiced harder than usual, trying to get rid of Malfoy in his head. He almost managed. But only almost.

The Slytherin team appeared, half an hour before their practice was due to start. They had no game in sight, but Snape had allowed them to use the pitch with a stupid excuse because if Gryffindor lost against Ravenclaw, Slytherin would be likely to win the cup.

Harry saw Ron arguing bitterly with the Slytherin captain but he kept flying as if he hadn't noticed what was happening. He did a Wronski Feint just for fun, feeling the speed in his veins, the wind, and the sensation in his stomach, seeing the ground approaching, and then turning at the exact moment necessary to avoid the crash. When he was flying up, he heard Ron's voice.

"Harry, we've got to leave."

He descended and saw Malfoy staring at him with an expression of victory on his face. His eyes were shining intently. 'I'll move my hands towards your hips.' Harry avoided that gaze as soon as these words came to mind, grabbed his broom, and walked towards the changing room where he found the next note.

Quickly he placed it in his pocket. He didn't want to read it in front of the team. He was not reading the notes in front of anybody. Harry exited the changing rooms and stood by the Quidditch pitch, hoping nobody would see him. He opened the parchment hastily, craving to read it.

Then I'll make you turn and I will do something I'll have desired from the first moment:

"What?" he voiced out loud. 'Is that all?' He stood there staring at the paper not believing what he had just read. He wanted more. This... this was nothing. What? What had he desired from the first moment? He looked at the sky and saw Malfoy flying.

'I don't want to be involved with him,' he thought. But he continued staring at the other boy maneuvering in the air.

'This is insane,' he realized after a while. 'I have to talk to somebody or I'll end up snogging Malfoy and thinking there's nothing wrong about it.' At least he knew someone who could understand him. He waited there until he saw Ginny coming out of the changing room.

"Ginny," he called. She turned and stared at him, slightly surprised.

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you for a while?" Harry asked walking towards her.

"Sure, Harry." He pulled a piece of parchment from his cloak and showed it to her. She noticed it was similar to the one she had read earlier. "It was about time you decided to talk to someone. Hermione and Ron are very worried."

"I've received more notes. And I wanted to ask you if--" This was hard to do, but she was the only one who could understand this, or so he hoped.

"Stop it, Harry. I'm not the one who's sending them."

"I know that, but..." 'Did he have the right to do this? Wasn't it too personal to ask?' He risked it. "...but you're the only one who has gone through something similar."

Her face twisted in a mixture of surprise and pain. "What? Harry, what are you trying to say?" Her hand was shaking while it pointed to the note. "Are they like Tom's diary?"

Harry blamed himself for putting her into such a state but to his amazement, he saw that she was soon calm again, waiting for an explanation. So he indicated to a tree and they sat under its shade. They were not far from the pitch and Harry could see Malfoy, and he realized he was judging the other boy's flying technique. He shook his head, avoiding the thought, and spoke.

"No, these are not like Tom's diary," he broke off, "But they're having a similar effect on me."

"How? I mean, Tom possessed me. I was doing things I could only suspect, but you..." She was increasingly worried. "Is it that? I mean... You're not actually doing..."

"No, I'm not, you're right, but I'm..." It was hard to admit it. "I'm becoming addicted to these notes; I look for them everywhere if I haven't received one by lunchtime. And when I get it, I want to read it fast. And then I want--" He stopped talking, realizing what he had been about to say.

"You want them to be real?" Ginny's voice was calm and had a cold tinge to it; she seemed to be remembering something. Harry nodded in silence, looking ashamed and very lost. "Yes, I wanted to believe that Tom was my friend, and wanted to talk to him all the time." She paused, staring at him intently. "Hmm...there's something else, isn't there? You know who's sending them."

Harry's eyes parted from hers and moved to the pitch. Malfoy was trying to imitate his feint.

"Yes," he whispered. He didn't know if he should tell her the whole truth. He felt her hand on his. Reassuring him. Malfoy had finished the feint and was flying up at great speed, in front of them.

"I'll tell nobody."

Saying it aloud was difficult. Very difficult. He felt her hand squeezing again.

"Malfoy."

Ginny's face went blank for a moment and followed his gaze to the Slytherin team.

"Draco Malfoy?" she repeated incredulously. Harry nodded and looked at her. "You can't trust him! He's--"

"I know Ginny, whatever you want to say, I already know. I can't stop it. Merlin! I even dream about him!" Realizing what he had just said, Harry broke off, staring at the ground.

"You want me to say this is right? Are you going to forget all about him?" He looked at her questioningly. "Harry, at least I threw away the diary!"

"But...what should I do?"

Ginny leaned towards him and kissed him on the cheek. "Decide if you're going to trust him." Then, she walked away.

***

Harry went back to the tower with Ginny's words echoing in his mind. Trust him? 'No I can't,' he admitted, but he knew he had to put a stop to this and confront Malfoy. In the common room, Ron was talking about their practice and planning what they should change, but Harry was feeling confused and he just wanted to be left alone. When Ron waved at him and made a sign for him to join them, Harry just walked to their dormitory, ignoring everything and everyone, threw himself in his bed, closed the hangings, and put all the light out.

He went through an odd night: half-dreaming, half-awake, tossing and turning in his sleep; and the dreams were always the same, with Malfoy in the book, then in the library, "You are mine, Potter," each time getting a step closer, and Harry's urge to kiss him growing more intense ...

On Thursday, Harry woke up very early, feeling completely drained, but he didn't want to dream about Malfoy anymore so he went to the Great Hall very early; there were a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs there already, but no Slytherins or Gryffindors. He decided that after having breakfast, he would go to see Hagrid, and maybe that would distract him from the whole issue.

When he began to eat his toast, he saw Malfoy enter the Hall, and all of a sudden, his mind conjured up the dream and with it came the urge to kiss the other boy. Harry choked, but luckily Malfoy didn't glance at him, or it would have been worse.

Harry forced himself to eat; he wouldn't starve because of Malfoy. Ron and Hermione entered and sat by his side. They were almost done with their breakfast, when the owls flew into the Great Hall leaving parcels and letters. A brown school owl with golden eyes stopped in front of Harry, who just stared at the bird until Ron nudged him.

"Hey, Harry, I think it's for you."

Hermione, just like Ron, was wearing a worried expression. "Are you feeling okay?"

Harry murmured something that sounded like a yes and untied the parchment from the owl. He didn't open it and put it in his pocket.

"You're not reading--" Ron started to speak but Hermione silenced him.

"Okay, Harry, you're going to tell us what's going on."

Harry clutched the note in his pocket; it felt like it was burning his palm. He glanced at the Slytherin table, saw Malfoy staring at him for just a second before his gazed had been diverted, but it could mean nothing.

"Hermione...I don't feel like talking about it, okay?"

Hermione gaped. "Honestly Harry, something's going on, you're worried, acting queerly in class..."

Queerly?

"I've got to go...maybe later..." Harry rose and left the table without looking back. His heart was pounding and he felt an increasing pain in his chest. He had been wrong... He could be damaged with some pieces of paper, he had just spurned his friends, he dreamt of Malfoy, and he had to read that note. Right now. He strode to the nearest deserted corridor.

His hands were shaking as he unfolded the parchment, the last note in his head: Then I'll make you turn and will do something I'll have desired from the first moment:

kiss you on the lips. I'll be starving for that kiss, so at the beginning it would be rough, my tongue would search for yours, thirsty for you. My lips would claim yours and I would breathe into your mouth as if I was drowning and longing for air. I want to feel you completely, experience your taste utterly.

He leant his back on the wall, almost crying... He couldn't bear it anymore, he was boiling with rage, he had to find out the truth, and stop this.

No. He did not want it to stop. He wanted to feel it. He closed his eyes and felt soft lips on his, hands brushing his hips and... He heard a noise and composed himself quickly, feeling the anger again. Crabbe and Goyle appeared walking in his direction, probably coming from the dungeons, he realized. They shot a furious glance his way and clenched their fists as they approached with menacing looks.

Harry drew his wand and pointed it at them, hoping they hadn't seen him almost broken. "Don't you even think about it," he spat.

A cold voice came from behind him. "As a prefect I reckon I should report this to a teacher." Malfoy was smirking proudly, his silver eyes filled with dislike.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Malfoy had nothing to do with it. But he could try to find out. "You're always hiding, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy's eyes flashed with loathing, though something else flickered in them as well. Doubt? Fear? Rage?

"You're a coward and you know it." Harry stepped closer to Draco, his wand still up. "You're always denouncing people to the teachers, faking things... Why don't you do things by yourself?" He felt his cheeks flushing with rage. "This is between you and me. Stop hiding!" That same emotion flickered in Draco's eyes again. It was fear. "Don't you dare?"

Harry stood inches away from Malfoy waiting for an answer. When he realized he was going to get nothing and that soon his mind might wander on its own back to the dream, he pushed Malfoy slightly aside with his shoulder, walking away. "A coward. Just what I thought."

***

The rest of the day was a nightmare; he spent the whole of it avoiding Ron's questions and thinking about what he should do. He barely slept and when he did, he dreamt of a strange Quidditch match in which Malfoy had to catch him instead of the Snitch. On Friday, he received no notes, and kept wondering what to do. On Saturday, in the morning, he received the last note, but he had already made up his mind.

Afterwards I'll pin you against the nearest wall so you can feel how much I want you.

He read the notes together, as he had done many times since he had started receiving them.

First, I will blindfold you; then I'll place my hands on your back and bend your head to the left. After that, I'll move nearer so you can feel my body next to yours, and kiss your neck, slowly.

I'll pull up your robes, and I'll caress your shoulders with my hands, feeling the reactions of your skin under my fingers, taking one step back just to stare at your body...

Next I'll kiss your back, nibbling wherever I feel like: you're mine, and I'll lick the line of your backbone, rubbing your buttocks and waiting for your reactions, watching your body ask for more while I nip your shoulders.

I'll keep you close, pressing my body against yours while I stroke your chest. I'll linger caressing your nipples and after a while I'll move my hands towards your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear, my fingertips sliding to tease your thighs gently.

Then I'll make you turn and I will do something I'll have desired from the first moment: kiss you on the lips. I'll be starving for that kiss, so at the beginning it would be rough, my tongue would search for yours, thirsty for you. My lips would claim yours and I would breathe into your mouth as if I was drowning, longing for air. I want to feel you completely, experience your taste utterly.

Afterwards I'll pin you against the nearest wall so you can feel how much I want you.

He knew that he wanted this; he wanted the sender by his side, all over him. He wanted to feel his touch.

Harry was startled out of his revere by a noise from Dobby, who entered the common room and walked towards the fireplace to clean it.

"Dobby!" he spoke softly.

The moment Dobby saw him, the house elf froze. "No master, Dobby knows nothing." Harry smiled, his heart pounding, knowing that it was now or never, and that if he decided to do it he should not repent it.

"I don't want you to tell me who he is, I already guessed. I want you to deliver a note." Harry extended his arm and handed a piece of parchment to Dobby, who seemed surprised and doubtful. "Tomorrow, during breakfast, ok?" The house elf nodded worriedly, looking at the floor, clutching the note in his hand. Harry smiled openly and went up to his dormitory. He slept comfortably this time, not being worried anymore about his dreams.

The next morning he woke up very early and rushed to the Great Hall. Very few people were there because it was Sunday, but he was looking for someone specific. Someone who shared certain subjects with him, someone wicked, someone who threatened house elves, but also someone who had spent time writing notes for him, someone who had been driving him mad during the past weeks.

Someone he shouldn't trust.

Someone who was now in control.

He wanted to feel everything he had been offered in those notes, no matter what the danger. He yearned for it, he wanted to feel that touch, and breathe in those lips. And he was going to get it.

When Draco entered, Harry was reading the Daily Prophet, and he glanced at him casually and then looked back at the newspaper. Or so it seemed, because in actuality, he was completely aware of what was happening at the Slytherin table.

Malfoy had been the first to appear and sat at his own seat. As he started to pour some pumpkin juice into his glass, he saw the note. He almost dropped the jug, and glanced at Harry in astonishment. Harry grinned while he feigned interest in his paper. Malfoy unfolded the note carefully, and gasped when he read it.

Don't you dare?

Harry rose and left the Daily Prophet on the table, and slowly exited the Great Hall. He left the building and walked towards the Quidditch pitch, hearing soft footsteps following him. He felt his mouth dry in anticipation, and his heartbeat accelerate.

Harry entered the changing room, and heard Draco inhale sharply and follow. For a second they just stood, facing each other, doubting what the other boy was there for.

Finally, Malfoy broke the silence, "Where's that red-haired girlfriend of yours?"

"Jealous?" answered Harry, taking a piece of cloth from his pocket. Draco gulped and stared at it hypnotized, though that lasted just a couple of seconds and then the Slytherin was completely poised again. Harry smiled lightly; he was beginning to feel he had some control over the situation. He leaned against the nearest wall, playing with the cloth, trying to understand what the other boy was thinking. He couldn't.

"You don't need to blindfold me; I don't care that it's you," Harry added casually, though he knew he did care. He just hoped his face didn't show it.

"I want to do it," said Malfoy smirking. "Don't you dare?" Harry noticed Draco was doing his best to be calm and controlled.

Harry grinned. "I do."

He got nearer, turning so Malfoy would place the cover over his eyes. When he felt it, he froze, his lips slightly parted, feeling his pulse pounding all over his body. Waiting. He heard soft and unhurried footsteps; Malfoy was in front of him. He knew that if he had been wrong about Malfoy, he could be struck now with any curse. A finger stroked his cheek lightly. He gasped. This was insane. Malfoy. Harry heard the other boy walk slowly again. Draco was now behind him. His heart was beating fast against his chest, his breathing getting intense. He felt a wave of heat when the other boy approached, and felt the warmth of Malfoy's hand before it touched him. When it did, it felt like it was burning.

Soft lips traced his neck lightly, and parted from his skin.

'Where are you? Don't you want this anymore?' A feeling of insecurity washed over him.

Then he felt a return of the warm breath against him, lips getting more confident on his skin. Harry gasped once more when he felt them again. Malfoy's hands grabbed his shoulders and he kissed him with greed, first his tongue venturing on his neck, making a shiver run down his back, then his teeth started to nib him, moving to his earlobe.

Harry was lost in sensation: he could hear and feel everything, totally aware of the other boy. He heard Malfoy's breath getting heavier, and partially cut sometimes, and he leaned his head on Malfoy's shoulder, offering his neck completely. That made Draco pull Harry even closer, arching against him.

His hands slid down his arms, taking his wrists for a while, Harry's pulse beating against Malfoy's palms. Then he felt Draco's hands on his hips, grabbing his robes and pulling them up. Harry moaned against his will, and stopped the other boy's hands.

'This is wrong.'

"Forget about this," Harry said, tearing away the cloth from his eyes and seeing Malfoy shocked, leaning against the wall, rage mixed with desire in his eyes. He was flushed and panting visibly. Humiliation showed in his face, and he tried to hide it looking at the floor.

Harry took his head in his hands, rubbing Draco's neck slightly lightly with his fingers.

"Look at me," Harry said, getting even closer, so Draco could feel his chest pressing against him, reassuring him. Malfoy's eyes searched his face. Harry answered the unvoiced question, "I just don't want to follow a script."

Malfoy frowned, still looking disconcerted.

"I want you." Harry pinned Draco against the wall harder and kissed him. His lips trapped the other boy's and his tongue slid over his teeth. Malfoy's tension broke with a gasp and he responded to Harry with his whole self.

"You're mine, Malfoy," Harry whispered.