Windswept Feelings

Harry had finished getting dressed, albeit shakily, and had spent a good fifteen minutes sitting on the bench and staring off into space, replaying what just happened over and over again in his mind.

Did Draco Malfoy just walk in while he wasn't wearing anything? Did Malfoy call it a striptease? And did Malfoy stand there calming appraising him and taking in every detail of his body, and then smile and say 'Not bad at all'?

Yes and yes and yes.

Harry had originally intended to come down early so that he could go and fetch the Bludgers and the Quaffle from the broom-shed, but the encounter with Malfoy had left him so dazed that he was still sitting in the changing room when the rest of his team turned up for practice. So instead, Harry sent one of his Beaters to go and get the balls, and he decided to go out onto the pitch first for some fresh air while the rest of the players got changed.

When Harry made his way onto the pitch, he saw Ron sitting on the first row of the stands, waiting for the practice to start. Harry sauntered over, and Ron greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, I just thought I'd come down here and watch you guys practice for a bit."

Harry nodded absently, barely hearing what Ron had said; he glanced around, then leaned closer and said in a low voice, "You wouldn't believe what happened just now, in the changing room."

Ron raised his eyebrow with a smile. "What, you realised that you outgrew your latest set of Quidditch robes, again?" Harry had been experiencing a growth spurt of late — he was now of average height, though still a couple of inches shorter than Ron. The side-effect, though, was that Harry was wearing out his robes at an alarming rate.

Harry shook his head, his expression still serious. "No. Malfoy walked in on me while I was changing."

Ron's smile immediately faded. "Malfoy what?"

Harry blushed slightly. "He came in when I was in the middle of changing into my Quidditch robes —" he lowered his voice almost shyly, "and I wasn't really, er, wearing anything."

What the hell?! Ron felt the blood rush to his brain, precipitating a severe migraine. What the heck was going on? First, Malfoy got to be the one that Harry liked. Now, Malfoy got to see Harry naked. Ron realised that he had never — not once in all his time knowing Harry — ever seen Harry completely in the buff. What did that rotten little rat bastard ever do to deserve this preferential treatment?

"What did he want?" Ron snapped, fervently feeling as if he wanted to tie Malfoy upside-down on the nearby oak tree and beat him senseless. "Did he see you naked?" Ron gritted his teeth as soon as he said the words. What a stupid question, really. No, Malfoy would chastely cover his eyes and wait for Harry to get some clothes on before looking again.

Harry blinked and turned a little red, then gave a bashful smile and shrugged. "Probably, I guess. I don't know what he really wanted, although it did seem like he was making a pass at me. He was definitely making eyes at me for a while there, I think."

Argh! Ron felt as if he was going to explode. There Malfoy went again, making things happen with Harry: making passes at him, making eyes at him, the next thing Ron knew Malfoy would be making lov— NO! Ron now dearly wanted to make pudding out of Malfoy's brain. Violent as that was, Ron felt that it was completely well-deserved. Malfoy actually had the nerve to —

"Wait a minute," Ron frowned, extremely unhappy with the way things were shaping up, "then what happened? You did tell Malfoy to get the hell out of your sight, didn't you? Didn't you?"

"Hmm?" Harry looked rather distracted again. "Oh, yes, yes of course I did."

"And did he?" Ron pressed.

"Oh. Yeah, he did, eventually." Harry paused. "He hung around for a bit and kept looking at me in a weird way — then after I told him twice to get out of the changing room, he finally left." Harry sighed, and shook his head. "I have no idea what it was supposed to mean. It certainly wasn't just an accidental, took-a-wrong-turn kind of coincidence, but then again…"

Ron closed his eyes and tried not to listen to Harry talk about Malfoy, about the way that Malfoy had looked at him just now in the changing room. It was incredibly painful and horribly mortifying; Ron clenched his teeth and willed himself not to show any emotion. He forced a strained smile, for Harry's sake.

Harry lingered for another few minutes until the rest of his team appeared on the pitch, and then he smiled and left Ron for the practice session. Ron stayed for awhile, admiring the way Harry looked and walked and straddled his Firebolt; but lurking at the back of his mind was the extremely disturbing news Harry had just told him, of his encounter with Malfoy in the changing rooms.

Harry's mine, Ron thought fiercely to himself, muttering a fervent oath to curse the Malfoy name for countless generations to come if Draco had the nerve to hit on Harry. Hands off, Malfoy.

But he needn't have worried, really; at least for the moment, Malfoy's hands were more than sufficiently occupied.

So this was what it felt like.

Seamus wondered what the legions of younger students who had a crush on Draco Malfoy would say if they knew what Draco was doing to him now. Or better yet, if they saw…

They were alone in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and as expected, on Seamus's bed together. There was really no better place for them to make out during the hours of broad daylight, and since Dean had sneaked off with Parvati to goodness-knows-where, Neville was cleaning up the Potions classroom as one of Snape's punishments, and Ron had gone down to the Quidditch pitch to watch Harry practice… Seamus reckoned he and Draco would have a good part of the afternoon to themselves. And what a good part that promised to be.

They wasted no time getting down to business, and now Draco was lying on top of him, pinning Seamus down onto the bed with the weight of his body as he kissed Seamus hard, his manner fiercely possessive. Seamus sensed that Draco was in a much more aggressive mood than he had been in the changing room yesterday — he gracefully submitted, letting Draco ravish him, shivering in pleasure as he felt Draco's teeth biting down on his neck, promising a lovely telltale pattern of lovebites afterward. Thankfully, most of his robes had high collars.

"Ahh, Draco," Seamus gasped, unable to do anything more than writhe as Draco began to grind against him, slowly and sensually in firm, controlled movements, his hips bearing down on Seamus's, creating delicious friction. Seamus threw his head back on the pillow and moaned, surrendering to the waves of pure sensation crashing through him, evoked by the way Draco was moving against him now. "Draco…"

Draco laughed softly, his lips next to Seamus's ear, and tilted his body slightly to achieve a better angle as he continued to rub against Seamus, who was lain beneath him, willing and wanting.

"You know," he whispered in Seamus's ear, nibbling on his earlobe, "I love the way you say my name. That Irish accent gets more pronounced when I'm pressing you into the mattress like this." Draco demonstrated his point by thrusting his lower body downward in a slow half-twist, and Seamus was virtually thrashing about under him, wracked with helpless pleasure, moaning oh so prettily.

"Draco, oh, that's good, yeah, it's —" Seamus's quivering words were abruptly cut off as Draco's mouth covered his, and then the kissing was enough to occupy whatever intelligible strands of thought remained. To Seamus, kissing Draco felt smooth as honey, yet hot like Oriental spices on his tongue, and god did it feel good. In fact, 'good' was the understatement of the decade. It was beyond goodness, or coherence, or anything.

Draco paused and smiled, drawing back slightly. "Tell me again why you're so fascinated with me all of a sudden, Seamus. Why you're letting me have my wicked way with you," he whispered, with a knowing smirk. "Besides the fact that I'm irresistible, of course."

Seamus returned a coy smile, and slid his arms around Draco's neck. "Because I like you," he answered simply, a flirtatious look in his eyes as he gazed at Draco. "Because you're hot and sexy and fun to be with like this. Good enough?"

Draco grinned deviously and said nothing, although he leaned down and commenced doing something very artful with his tongue moving dextrously along Seamus's jawline and neck, which made Seamus arch his back upwards against Draco's body on top of his, groaning incoherently and shuddering as Draco's hands gripped his arms and held him still, pressed down onto the bed.

Seamus closed his eyes and shifted under Draco's weight, feeling as if he was going to explode from the sensation within him that ached for release; only Draco Malfoy could elicit this sort of extreme arousal just from five minutes of intense kissing, and the most incredible part was that they were both fully-clothed, still. Okay, Seamus had managed to fumble open the top of Draco's shirt, and Draco had unzipped Seamus's jeans and — and Draco's hands were now sliding inside the waistband of his underwear — okay, okay, now this was really good, this was —

Seamus was jolted back to reality by the distant sound of the portrait hole slamming shut, followed by footsteps which were gradually getting louder and louder. Seamus froze, listening intently; the dull thunk of shoes on stone told him that the footsteps had reached the foot of the stairway leading up the boys' dormitory.

"Dammit, there's someone coming!" Seamus swore more creatively still, as he reluctantly pushed Draco off him and sat up, feeling mildly dazed by the head-rush from the, well, strenuous activity he had been engaged in up till now. Draco looked confused for a moment, but then he also heard the footsteps coming up the stairs and quickly nodded, sliding off the bed onto the floor.

"Get under the bed!" Seamus nudged Draco down on the side of the bed facing the wall, farthest away from the dormitory door. Seamus hastily checked that Draco had at least partially hidden himself under the bed, albeit mutinously; this was a boy who was used to sleeping on fine imported beds lined with expensive linen, not pushed under school dormitory four-posters.

Seamus hurriedly buttoned up his shirt, just as the door to the dormitory opened and Ron walked in, looking annoyed and disgruntled, as if a storm cloud was hovering over his head, even here indoors. Seamus decided that Ron's expression didn't bode well at all, especially not when he had Draco Malfoy half-hidden under his bed. He offered Ron his best innocent and cheerful smile, and for once he wished that Ron would hurry up and quickly go away.

Ron saw Seamus sitting on the bed, and exclaimed, "Seamus! Look, I need to talk to you."

"Er, Ron..." Seamus started cautiously, giving a meaningful shake of his head to indicate that it wasn't a good time to talk.

Ron ignored Seamus's warning gesture, and continued speaking very fast, "Everything's going wrong! The plan for you to seduce Malfoy isn't working out too well at all — Harry just told me that Mal —"

"Shut up, Ron!" Seamus hissed fiercely, utterly horrified; but it was too late.

Ron caught Seamus's wild gesticulations for him to shut up and paused, bewildered. "What? What's going on? What did I say?"

Seamus opened his mouth, but no words emerged in reply. Ron looked alarmed at the expression of frozen horror on Seamus's face; he was just about to ask Seamus again what the hell was going on, when the question abruptly faltered and died on his lips, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

Draco Malfoy slowly stood up from where he had been lying on the floor, still carrying off his usual air of arrogance effortlessly even though his clothes were in a rare state of disarray. Ron stared at him, too shocked for words; on the bed, Seamus buried his face in his hands in utter despair. The only sound that rattled the painfully tense silence in the room was the brisk rustle of fabric as Draco readjusted his shirt in a dignified manner, seemingly unruffled by the way Ron and Seamus were staring at him. Nothing betrayed his cool veneer of composure — nothing except his eyes.

Draco's eyes burned with silent fury, perfectly bridled but intense enough to ignite the crisp tension that strung the atmosphere in the dormitory. Draco said nothing; without even the briefest glance in Seamus's direction, he snatched up his robes from where they lay draped over the back of a chair, and then headed toward the dormitory door. Offering a sneer of disdain at Ron as he passed him, Draco walked out of the dormitory and kicked the door shut behind him.

Ron stared after the closed door, still stunned from seeing Draco Malfoy materialise out of nowhere in the middle of the Gryffindor bedroom.

"What — what the hell is he doing in here?" he finally managed.

Seamus looked too shocked to react for a moment; then he recovered and sprang to his feet, and did something that he never expected he'd do, something that was rash and purely instinctive — he left Ron standing there gawking at him, and chased after Draco.

Seamus hastily zipped up his jeans as he hurtled down the winding stairs leading back to the common room, just as he heard the portrait hole slam shut downstairs. Lithely crawling through the portrait hole after Draco and running as fast as he could, Seamus finally caught up with the other boy halfway down the corridor on the second-floor. Seamus called out to Draco, who was walking away with quick, decisive steps, but Draco didn't turn around.

"Draco!" Seamus panted, as he drew level with the other boy, "Draco, wait! Listen to me..."

He reached out to catch Draco by the arm, but in response Draco abruptly spun around, slapped his hand away and snarled, "Don't touch me, Finnigan."

Seamus was stunned; he stared at Draco for a moment, then said plaintively, "Draco, I can explain, please, just let me explain."

Draco's eyes flashed with bitter rage. "I don't need to hear you explain. Weasley's already done that perfectly well just now."

"No!" Seamus protested, and he hurried to keep pace with Draco, who had begun to walk away again. "No, Draco, that was a misunderstanding, Ron didn't mean —"

Draco suddenly whirled around to face Seamus, who had to skid to an abrupt halt to keep from colliding into Draco, something that he wouldn't have minded doing on any other occasion, except that now really wasn't the right time.

"Oh, really?" Draco's tone dripped with icy sarcasm, and his voice was sharp enough to cut glass. Without warning, Draco seized Seamus and shoved him up against the corridor wall, holding him at arm's length. Seamus winced as the back of his head struck the solid concrete.

Draco allowed a humourless smile as he saw Seamus recoil, and continued harshly, "So I didn't get the right idea, you say? So this whole thing wasn't a connived plan, in which Weasley asked you to throw yourself at me so that he could get it on with Potter, without having to worry that I might fancy the pants off his new boyfriend?"

Seamus's jaw dropped and he was speechless for a moment, but that was enough an admission of guilt. Draco's mouth twisted grimly, and when he looked at Seamus, his eyes were filled with such intense disgust and loathing that Seamus cringed inwardly, feeling a sharp pang lance through his own heart.

"Draco," Seamus tried weakly, his voice quivering with emotion; he was painfully aware of Draco's hand pinning him against the wall, his fingernails digging into his shoulder, the same fingers that had caressed him so intimately just moments before... Seamus bit his lower lip, and his eyes shone wet with desperate helplessness.

Draco released Seamus and stepped back, his cold grey eyes alight with thinly controlled anger and... and betrayal. Seamus was breathing hard, his body still leaning back on hard concrete, his palms flattened out against the wall behind him.

Seamus looked at Draco, pain and a hopeless sorrow in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

Draco turned and walked away without another word.

Against better judgement Seamus followed him; he didn't know why, only that he knew he couldn't leave it like this, couldn't let Draco walk away from him without telling him that...

"Draco, I wasn't just doing it for R —" Seamus started.

"Save it, slut." Draco spun around, and Seamus wilted under the sheer hatred in his stare. Draco paused; then he spoke in a deadly low voice, every word quavering with suppressed anger, making Seamus's blood run cold: "You're a liar and whore, Finnigan, and from now on I want you to stay the hell away from me, because I don't ever want to see you again."

Draco spun on his heel and strode off without even a backward glance; this time, Seamus closed his eyes, slumped back against the wall, and let him go.