Hidden

The following stanza is the theme for Part Two of this fanfic and represents Draco's thoughts that apply to himself:

Hidden through

the dark currents

I find

an accurate copy

a blueprint

of the pleasure in me

--"Pagan Poetry" from the CD "Vespertine" by Bjork

BEGINNING OF PART TWO

PART TWO

Chapter Thirteen

An unusual morning

Slowly, groggily, Harry opened his eyes, peering reluctantly into the light of day. Mumbling confusedly, he attempted to get an idea of where he was, patting his hands here and there, scooting to the right and left. Suddenly, a voice pierced his mind's blanket of sleepiness, as he clearly heard the exclamation of "Ah, shit!"

Then his bed shoved to the left, and Harry's sense of time was skewed, as a short fall from the windowsill to the floor seemed to last years. Although protected from harm by who he lay on, he winced at the impact upon landing. Harry lay his head back down momentarily, basking in the warmth of the other boy's body heat, when he remembered the previous night. Realizing they must still be in the room, he awoke fully, and lifted his head, scooting up the length of Draco's body so that his chin hovered above Draco's pale, outstretched neck.

Draco groaned in pain, blaming Harry under his breath in a whisper, one arm curled above the top of his head, eyes squinting, half closed. Fingers caressing the other boy's jaw, Harry, concerned, asked quietly, "Hey, you alright? What happened?"

"We were about to fall off the windowsill."

Harry flinched. That would not have been good; they might have died from a fall of such heights! "Thank you for saving us." Harry thought he might have seen a barely audible nod from Draco, but wasn't sure. Not caring, he clutched at Draco's shoulders possessively, dismayed at the prospect of letting the Slytherin go for the morning. He wondered absently what time it was. His mind felt like many matches being lit; so many thoughts swirled through his head, quickly replacing one another. He was suddenly surged with a feeling of wanting to celebrate for the victory of winning Draco that he felt he'd won. Deep down, he knew winning would never be so easy though, but his abrupt end of sleep made his mind dazed.

Brushing his lips against Draco's neck, Harry murmured, "Mm, you know what? I want to bite you again." He continued running kisses down the other boy's neck, laughter and want simultaneously crashing inside him. Chuckling madly, he gave Draco's neck a little nip with his teeth. Jolting in surprise, Draco sat partly up suddenly. His eyes glaring, face furious, he shouted, "What did you do that for, Potter? Are you insane? Has your mind so suddenly disappeared?--if you ever had one!"

Harry simply smiled, brushing his hand through the other boy's hair, saying, "Your presence makes me giddy. And I didn't eat dinner last night."

Draco stared at him for a few moments. Then he threw his head back, pushing Harry's hand away, and drawled, "So, you decided to eat me in replacement of dinner and a normal breakfast? Are you always like this in the mornings, Potter? I'd hate to see the horror of a morning at the Gryffindor common room."

Harry blinked, and then his mind switched back to normal, and he said, "No, I'm not always like this in the mornings. It...was a temporary, ah, mood, just now. Don't worry, I'm sane again. And Gryffindor mornings aren't a horror, they probably have much less swearing and sleeping in than Slytherin!"

Draco raised a slim silver brow, asking, "Are you saying that I sleep in, Potter? Because for your information, I usually don't sleep at all."

"I guess I'm not all bad influence if my presence caused you to be able to sleep than, am I?" Harry didn't get to find out Draco's answer, as the Slytherin gazed at a point past Harry, and began swearing. (Draco had not denied that a Slytherin morning consisted of swearing). Harry looked back to see what Draco was looking at: one lone socked foot peeked out from Draco's trousers, looking plain compared to the opposite foot still clad in polished boot elegancy. Harry laughed, and then turned back to Draco, for once that morning giving the Slytherin a look over.

Harry had never imagined what Slytherins, even Draco, looked like upon waking up. But Draco didn't actually look much different from most non-morning people. Of course he was a non-morning person. Eyelids droopy, mouth set in a more downward frown than usual, Draco still managed to captivate Harry. The way the shoulder of his shirt was crooked, revealing a bit of skin, and the way Draco's hair was now mussed and almost as wild as Harry's, along with everything else--Harry was almost overwhelmed by the obvious label of "utterly adorable" surrounding the just awoken Slytherin Seeker.

Then Harry quickly stood up off of Draco, wiping out some of the wrinkles from his clothes, and attempting, in failure, to calm his hair, before going to stand by the windowsill. He leaned over, momentarily searching. Then, spotting Draco's boot, he took his wand from his pocket, and pointing it at the boot, said, "accio boot!" Draco had no time to say or do anything as suddenly his boot came zooming upwards. Harry grabbed the boot, and then handed it to Draco, saying, "Here."

Draco nodded (he never said thank you) and put his boot back on. Then, standing up, he took a little mirror out of his pocket, and began to thoroughly primp himself. Harry watched, amused and delighted, as Draco began the long process. The Slytherin used some spells, but mostly that was just to get the droopy eyes and dirt from himself. Then, Draco flattened and then smoothed out his hair, speedily combing his fingers through it, scraping little curls at the nape of his neck down. The part which made Harry almost burst out laughing was when Draco got out a bottle of gel, squirted a large amount into the palm of his hand, and swiped great gobs of the stuff into his hair, resulting in the usual smooth, glossy effect. Numerous times Harry had wondered how Draco's hair remained forever perfect, and he had thought over the possibility of gel, but had always shied from the thought, because gel was, well, a muggle thing. But here Draco was, treating gel as preciously as Harry did his broom.

Then, Draco shook out his clothes, getting dust and debris off of them, while also giving Harry forbidden glimpses of pale skin. This, and seeing the additional work of Draco tugging and smoothing out the articles of clothing he wore, made Harry almost begin to salivate. Repressing the gradual increase of horniness, Harry asked Draco when finished, "Those clothes are dirty, so why go through all this trouble?"

Draco gave Harry a look as if the question was ridiculous, and said matter-of-factly, "Why, when I leave the room, I don't want to anyone to see me looking inappropriately mussed; it would be quite uncharacteristic of me, I say!" Harry stared. "But...Malfoy..."

It took Harry so much to stop himself from calling the other boy Draco; he knew he had to take it all step by step, though. "...you need to go back to your common room to get into clean clothes for breakfast, right?"

"One, don't tell me what I need to do, Potter. Two, it's past breakfast, and I have only a few minutes to get ready for class! I blame it on you for your...your ridiculous sensitivity, Potter. If it wasn't for you, I would have my usual hour of delicate preparation for this day's appearance."

Harry ignored his dismay and continued horniness, stifling a laugh as Draco left.

-----*-----

"Mister Malfoy, Dumbledore would like to see you after this class. Also, you have detention with Potter for both of you being so very late today. Meet me in my office after your last class."

Harry, who'd frozen as soon as he heard McGonagall talking, wondered if Draco was in trouble. He dove aside as the Slytherin walked by, a troubled look on his face.

Harry was about to walk up to McGonagall, when he realized he'd forgotten what he had wanted to ask the Transfiguration professor. Oh, fudge it! Hopefully he'd remember once he got Draco and detention out of his mind. If possible.