Metamorous

Chapter 8 - Stay

Heading for the Slytherin common room. Well, Draco's room actually. More studying. And that's penciled in in the most changeable sort of way. It's November by now. Dark, dreary November. It feels like the longest month in the world. It's too cold to be outside doing anything except Quidditch, but it's not cold enough to snow. It's just really blah. So inside is nice. Inside is very nice. Inside has couches and chairs and tables. And beds. But I'm not thinking about beds of course. Nope, there are no thoughts of beds. What do you need a bed for anyway? Anything that's not a hard, cold, stone surface works well enough. And even then it's negotiable.

A deep voice breaks me out of my reverie. "Harry."

Blaise. Now make no mistake; unlike Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise is good-looking. Dark hair, olive skin, strong features. He's gorgeous. But I know that underneath all the gorgeous-ness is something very, very scary. My rule of thumb? If a person's gaze makes your skin crawl, then he's leaning towards the Dark. And Blaise is very, very Dark..

"Trying to get into the common room?"

"Yes. They must have changed the password..."

"Melisma."

The hidden door slides open without a sound.

"Were you looking for some company?"

There. That's what I was talking about earlier. Skin crawling...

"Draco's waiting for me."

"I'll see you later then."

God, I hope not.

~~~~~~~

"Ick."

"What is your preoccupation with that word?"

"It's a cool sounding word. Like spoon. Or endoplasmic reticulum. Which is actually two words."

"Fascinating."

"Ouch. Sarcasm."

"Mhmm. So what was so ick?"

"Actually, the adjective form of the word is icky, as opposed to the noun or expletive form, ick. Just so you know. And Blaise was being all... icky again."

My fingers twitch. "Blaise? What did he do?"

"Oh, you know. Creep around in the shadows, pop out and make some comment, which sounds obscene when coming from him. The usual."

"Does he do that a lot?" I may kill him.

Harry shrugs. "Only every time I see him. Doesn't he do that to anyone else?"

"No. You must be special." I probably will kill him.

He shudders. "Okay, gross. We've moved beyond 'ick' into 'vile' territory."

"Vile, huh?"

"Yup. Vile." He comes over and drops his bag onto the chair. "So, what was the plan for tonight?"

I grin. "I'm not really in the mood for studying. What were you thinking?" We shall first take the subtle approach. If that doesn't work, I can always jump him again.

I'm about a million times happier than I was ten seconds ago. How is it that Harry makes everything better? It's corny and it's cliched, but he makes everything brighter. If only... if only he knew how much this meant to me. How much he meant to me. Scratch that. He'd probably run screaming for the hills.

~~~~~~~

He humors me. I never really noticed that before. But he does. You know what I'm talking about, right? Asks me questions he doesn't have to ask, puts up with my off-color jokes, makes sure I'm okay. I don't know. I don't remember exactly when that started. It just seems normal. Like everything I do with him seems normal. Like talking is normal and kissing is normal, and when we went to Hogsmeade last weekend; that was normal. And when we went flying, that was normal. And it's really starting to bug me... that everything feels so right. And it's not 'right'. It's really quite messed up.

I love him. He doesn't love me. Yet I'm still here. I'm trapped in a hell of my own making.

I do not like the path my thoughts are taking. And one surefire way to get all thoughts out of my head is to kiss Draco. So I do.

~~~~~~~

I hate when he's like this. When he's here but not. He's gone onto autopilot. He's pushing me down, kissing me fiercely and demanding a response. I get the distinct feeling I'm being used. Not a bad kind of used because let's face it, I'm not complaining. I just wish he would let me in. What's so horrible that he has to shut everything out? And I can't be mad because... because he needs me. In some small, stupid way he needs me. Which is really quite pathetic on my part. And sometimes I don't think he wants to be around me but he stays anyway. And sometimes he's so dreadfully blank and empty that he couldn't care less. At least Harry's hormones seem to want to be near me even if he doesn't.

We've stopped now. He's got Quidditch practice in half an hour and its going to take him just about that long to find his clothes. We've thrown them all over the place as usual. We always stop when we reach this point. Still clothed from the waist-down. Maybe not untouched, but always clothed. I know we both wonder why we stop and quite frankly I don't know. I can never really think of a good reason. Why are we stopping? We've both broken too many rules to worry about something like that. Harry killed Bellatrix Lestrange when he was sixteen. Used the Killing Curse and everything. He had an escaped convict for a godfather. His parents are wizarding martyrs and he the magical world's savior. He's the classic exception to nearly every rule. Why not this one? What would be so bad about it?

"Why are we stopping?" Shit. Things just keep popping out of my mouth lately.

Harry slows as he pushes his arms into the robe. He averts his eyes. "I... don't know."

But he does know. He has a reason. I'm sure he doesn't want his first time to be with Draco Malfoy. Fine. I can understand. Save yourself for someone else. Someone who won't fucking appreciate you. Who won't love you. Not the way I could. Not the way I do.

"Doesn't matter. You can go." Just leave me alone. Always alone

~~~~~~~

"Zabini." I hate you. I hate you. I really hate you.

"You've certainly been keeping Harry busy lately."

And I hate that you always use his first name. Vile. Ick in the extreme.

I shrug my shoulders. "Is there something you wanted?" Besides Harry. Gods help me, if he says Harry, I will kill him.

"Nothing you're willing to give."

He means Harry. Gods, what a fucked-up piece of work he is.

"Nothing I'm even willing to share."

"Oh? Is he that talented then?"

I want to kill him. I want to punch in his perfectly shaped nose. I want to leave him a mangled, bloody pile on the floor. I want to hurt him so badly that even Madame Pomfrey won't know how to fix him back up again. Voldemort is the only one I hate more than Blaise. And even then it is very, very close indeed. Because this is personal.

"He's mine, Blaise. Not yours." He'll never be yours, even if he's never mine. "Our Lord entrusted the potion to me. Not you. And I... I will reap the benefits." I want to kill you. One more word out of those smirking lips and you'll be able to sit next to yourself in Potions class.

~~~~~~~

If I said Draco was in a horrible mood the next day, it would only happen to be the understatement of the century. I don't think I'd ever seen him in a worse one.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?"

He growls. Eeh. That sounded a bit like a dog. You know the little yappy ones? Vaguely creepy coming from a person's mouth. "Blaise."

"Oh. Well, in that case, all's forgiven. He drives me insane too."

He skids his chair back. "Had he been near you today? Said anything?"

Whoa, down boy. "No. I haven't seen him at all."

Draco sits back down. "Sorry. But I feel a rather strong urge to hurt him... often."

"Me too."

Then -

"You wanna go fly?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Let's go flying, Draco."

~~~~~~~

All right. I'm calm now. Well, calmer. Happier. Partly flying, partly Harry. So later, colder (and calmer, and happier) Harry and I walk back into the common room. And Blaise is there. For Christ's sake, has he nothing better to do than drive me crazy?

"Changed your mind, Draco?"

Fuck no! What makes you think that a million years, much less one day, would change my mind?

"No. I'm afraid that it's never going to be up for negotiation either."

He smirks. "Well. Things change."

That never will. Harry's not a fucking thing! He's a person.

"Draco..."

I place my arm firmly around Harry's waist. "C'mon, Harry. We're done here."

~~~~~~~

What the hell? What was that all about? You ever hear a conversation that seems to have some hidden meaning completely over your head? That was one of them.

~~~~~~~

We walk quickly up the stairs and into my room.

"What was that all about?"

"I told you he drives me crazy." Let's dodge the question. "Don't worry about it." Just make sure you've got your wand handy whenever Blaise is around.

Harry just shrugs, apparently dismissing it as more general Blaise creepiness. He leans up against the wall and folds his arms, perfectly at ease. Perfectly at ease in my room of all places.

Perfect. Must he look so perfect? Yeah. Apparently. When he laughs, when he smiles. Even the way he frowns. He's still going to be perfect when he's as old as Dumbledore. When he defeats Voldemort. When he wins every game of Quidditch he plays. When he comes home from work at the Ministry and greets the husband and all the little (adopted) tots. He'll be perfect then too. For other reasons. Right now, he's perfect. For me. With me. Just perfect.

Slowly, for some reason very slowly, I grasp his face and gently kiss him. I just... I don't know. I can't tell him, so maybe I can show him. But you can't show someone what they don't want to see. Can't see. Wouldn't even think to look for. But still, Harry smiles after I pull back, a little smile that's pushing the boundaries of perfect even. And I wrap my arms around him, pushing his robe off his shoulders. He moves me backward towards the bed and we lie there, not moving very fast. Not really caring that we aren't.

And it's all bittersweet, because I know this can't last, because not much does. And the chances of this lasting are smaller than anything else. And this is the one thing I want to work. The one thing that maybe I've always wanted, that everyone wants. Love. But things that are one-sided can't work. Inside I sigh, and a little bit of my heart breaks. I really, really wish...

I close my eyes.

~~~~~~~

He closed his eyes again. Again. And I'm not talking like when we kiss. Practically everyone closes their eyes when they kiss. But sometimes he does that when we're just sitting here, when... and it really, really bugs me. I always get the feeling that he's somewhere else when he does that. And that annoys me. It hurts, I guess. Like he can't stand to look at me, like he's imaging someone else that's better looking, someone gorgeous and incredible, someone he actually likes. Draco could have anyone he wants. Anyone. I know. He knows it. But he's stuck playing boyfriend to me for now. Maybe he just does this with me because it beats Pansy. God. You know what? It doesn't bug me. I fucking hate it.

I push off the bed, shooting myself over to the other side. "I'm leaving." I've got better things I could do. Screw this. I was stupid to think this was anything more than... just, anything. Stupid. Leaving is definitely an option.

Draco's eyes pop open. Ha.

~~~~~~~

What? Where... where is he going?

"Harry?" The room's a lot colder now. What's wrong with him? "Are you all right?"

"You care?" he retorts. "I said I'm leaving." He grabs his bag where he left it and heads for the door.

What is going on here? One moment he's sitting on top of me, the next... "I heard you. Why are you leaving?" What... damn it, this hurts. Can't you even stand to be around me?

"I don't want to be your whore," he snarls. "I don't want to be just a warm body for you until you can fuck the person you're really thinking about."

I blink. What? He thinks... he thinks... that's what he's thinking? That I'm imagining someone else? Does he have no idea what he does to me?

"Shut up," I say quietly.

"No. I can't - "

I move quickly, pushing him up against the wall. "I. Said. Shut. Up. Now you listen to me, Harry, and you listen well. When I dream you're the only person I dream of. When I touch myself I imagine you're the person doing it. When I kiss you I think of you. When I touch you I think of you. There is no replacement. How could you even think that I was imagining someone else? You don't have to be my whore." I smirk. "Unless you want to."

He blinks at me once, twice. I lessen my grip, serious again. His bag drops, unseen, to the floor. "Don't ever doubt that I want you, Harry. Don't ever doubt that you're beautiful. Don't doubt what you feel."

~~~~~~~

"Draco..."

I push forward off the wall, as far forward as he'll let me since he's still holding my wrists tightly. And it was like the first time we kissed, all over again. That first brief, almost modest kiss. Just pressing our faces together, like a reassurance. Then the second one, not short or sweet but long and hot and heavy, and this time I don't want it to stop. There's nothing to be confused over now. Something is finally just fucking right. Like all the pieces fell into place. All the parts came together.

I don't have any words for this. And I'm no artist; I can't draw or sing and show you how beautiful and perfect it was. But I know it was what Michelangelo tried to paint into the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The breathlessness, the magnificence. What everyone wants to see in their lives. What everyone tries to get. That feeling of euphoria. That small piece of perfection. Well... no one else can have it. No one else gets Draco but me.

I kiss him, and when I open my eyes he's still looking at me with the oddest expression. Eyes totally open. Oops. Guess he does want me. My body anyway But that is a part of me, right? Technically. I can work with technical. So I won't complain right now. Instead I kiss him again and damn him for not letting my hands free! He's enjoying it, I know, because that's just the way he is. But that's all right. I'm sure I can convince him.

~~~~~~~

I keep a firm hold on Harry's wrists. No running out on me this time, Harry. I couldn't take that again. And maybe because a small part of me wants him at my mercy. Maybe more than a small part. All right, all right, I want the man handcuffed to my bed for the rest of my life. Happy now?

Harry presses up against me and kisses me, forcing any coherent thought out of my head. He kisses me so gently it surprises me. Brushes my bottom lip lightly, teeth coming out to catch at it softly. His hair moves forward, falling across his face and mine. And that's what I see, Harry's red mouth and hooded eyes shielded partially by the darkness of his hair, and all I feel is the gentle movement of his lips across mine. It makes my knees feel like they're going to give out. Damn him. He always manages to throw me off somehow. I let go of his wrists, my hands moving to grasp his face. I'm going to show him a kiss.

~~~~~~~

Hands are free. Now-

Draco...

His gray eyes flash with something I've never seen. I close my eyes; don't know why, just know I should. And when he kisses me... I want to burst. It's everything it's supposed to be. Something explodes in the pit of my stomach, my breath catches and I let out a sigh.

"Draco..."

"Harry," he rasps. "Gods, Harry..."

And now I can't get enough of him. Our clothes go flying everywhere, all over the room. We stumble over Draco's trunk trying to get to the bed. I barely resist the urge to laugh. This is insane, all of it. Love does make people crazy. Lust seems to have a disarmingly similar effect.

Our hands sweep over each other roughly, heedless of bruises from Quidditch or earlier misadventures. Gods. I want to devour him.

~~~~~~~

I once likened Harry to fire. Only now do I see how apt that description was. Beautiful. Painful. A moan escapes from me as he pushes up on my hips. Oh yes, fire. Because most of all he's hot. Makes me hot. Makes me burn.

I sit on top of him, gently tracing him scars. I've seen them before. He doesn't like to talk about them. And that fact tells me all I need to know. Oh, but he's gorgeous. I know that, you know that, but sometimes I don't think Harry knows that. Like right know, when he's naked in front of me looking more beautiful than any man has a right to be, and his eyes are flickering away. He's afraid of my reaction, afraid that he's less than perfect. And he is. So. Beautiful.

"Harry..." You're beautiful. Amazing. Stunning. I love you. Gods, do I love you. Let me show you. Let me just try to show you.

~~~~~~~

"You're so beautiful." The way he says that, the way he barely breathes the words makes me want to believe him. I don't know why. I don't know so much anymore, just the way this is and feels. And the wanting. Always the wanting. I want him more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life. When I look at him I'm speechless.

Speechless. Thoughtless. But never senseless. No, not senseless. I'm feeling too much to be anywhere near senseless.

~~~~~~~

His hands shake sometimes, and he blushes easily. And everywhere, like I thought.

"Have you done this before?"

"Not... with a guy."

That makes my heart skip a beat. And not in a good way. Who...? Never mind. I don't want to know. I don't think I'd have the self-control to not hex them.

"You know how this works, right?"

He smirks. "I've spent summers with the Weasley twins. I wager I know more than you do."

I stick my tongue in his ear. "Nothing beats experience."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

Now there's a tantalizing thought. "Maybe later. Right now... I want to show you." Way to make yourself vulnerable, Draco.

He pauses. "All right."

"Trust me?"

Then he smiles. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

That shouldn't mean anything. But trust could be one step towards something else, right? And it's nice to know he at least considers me... I don't know, a friend or something. Friend. Friends with some serious fucking benefits. Damn. I'll show him friendship.

~~~~~~~

I didn't ask before now, but I know Draco's done this before. He's too smooth; he knows what he's doing. For me, it's strange. Strange to feel muscle and hardness where there were only curves. Strange, but not in a bad way. Nowhere near a bad way. It makes me want to know every inch of him. Every thing before this, every kiss we've shared, every time we've made out, or all those times we've spent in the broom closet or an empty classroom, we rushed. Fast and hot and heavy like we wanted as much as we could in as little time as possible. And now, we're moving so slowly. Funny how that scares me.

~~~~~~~

I lean down to kiss him once more. Harry, my own personal drug. He's hooked on chocolate and I'm hooked on him. Hmm. Does that make chocolate superior to me? Will think more on this later. Like when I don't have naked Harry distracting me.

"You all right?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I told you I was."

I smirk. He's annoyed at me. He's fine.

"Harry, just ..."

He bucks up against me.

"Draco. Now."

Not going to argue with that.

I kiss him deeply. Like maybe I could taste him all at once. Every part of him, every single tiny bit of him. Oh, I wish he were mine. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful. He is fire. He'll burn straight through me, I know it, leaving me nothing but ashes when he leaves. But now? Beautiful.

I sigh into his chest.

"Oh God."

That pretty much sums it up, yes.

~~~~~~~

"Oh God."

I can't help the thrilled gasp that escapes me. I never imagined - never could imagine, I guess, what this really felt like. How Draco could make me feel. Ginny was my real first. Draco's a first of another kind. And Draco is the first person I've ever really loved. I cared for Ginny, certainly, but this... I can't really relate him to Ginny. Draco- well, he's simply incomparable.

"Draco..."

Gorgeous. I think I called him an angel once. Mockingly at the time. With his hair around his shoulders and his lips so red, I can see it now. All I see is him. Angel in my view. I know that this is one of those things I'll remember forever. I'm still not sure how I'll look back on it. Happiness? Sadness? Laughter? Regret? Don't know. Don't care. I'm living in the moment, for the moment.

~~~~~~~

My heart's pounding so loud right now, I'm surprised Harry can't hear it himself. When we're this close, when we move together, when he's kissing me so fiercely I can't be sure where I stop and he begins. The goosebumps I'm getting, the strange contrast of the warmth of Harry and how he makes the air so cold. The way he makes me feel. The emotions on his face. I want him. I want him forever. And beyond. For all time, all places. I want him. I love him. Draco and Harry. Harry and Draco. Harry. Just Harry.

My eyes lock with his. I can't quite describe what I see there. I don't think there's a word to describe it, or even a lot of words. For all it's worth, there's something like understanding. And lust. Acceptance. I... I don't know about the rest. I'm not sure if I want to know. So I'll stick with what I do know. Understanding. Lust. Acceptance.

I moan out his name. I want to say 'I love you', scream it at the top of my lungs, but I can't. I won't.

"Harry..."

~~~~~~~

I will never forget this. I know that the same way I will never forget the first time we kissed, or how I'll never forget when I first realized I loved him. I'll remember this moment with perfect clarity, like the moment Sirius died, or when I found out I was a wizard. It's good and bad. It's bittersweet. But it will always be perfectly clear.

I want this to be real. I want this - I want to rewrite this ending. I want to tell him I love him, and I want him to love me back. But you don't always get what you want.

I have what I want, but in a way I don't at all.

I shouldn't be here. I should leave.

I start to move off the bed.

~~~~~~~

"Stay." Please.

He hesitates.

Then slips back in beside me.

"G'night Harry."

"Goodnight Draco."

The words 'I love you' lie on the tip of my tongue, yet they can't seem to make the leap. But I'm happy for now. I'm ok. He's still here beside me, isn't he?

~~~~~~~