Oscillate Wildly

"So for once in my life, let me get what I want. Lord knows, it would be the first time."
- The Smiths

Harry stretched his arms wide over his head and arched his back. Apparently, he'd just woken up, but he didn't remember falling asleep. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought, but the last thing he could remember was speaking to Hermione this afternoon. Maybe Madam Pomfrey gave me a Sleeping Potion. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he cracked his neck, which was unbearably stiff, and didn't bother covering his mouth as he emitted a monstrous yawn.

Mid-yawn, he noticed two glittering eyes staring back at him from the darkness.

"Boo!" said Malfoy.

"Holy...," Harry managed as he scrambled back onto the bed. "Malfoy, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Malfoy sauntered over to the bed's side and ran his index finger down Harry's upper arm. Harry involuntarily shivered. "Maybe," he smoothly replied. Oh. So it's that Malfoy, he thought, observing his surroundings. Back at St. George's again. Harry wasn't entirely sure this was an unpleasant development.

Regaining some semblance of self-control, he managed to ask, "What time is it, anyway?"

"Midnight. The witching hour." Draco smirked.

Harry groaned and lay back down, half throwing a pillow over his head, leaving enough just enough room to breathe. "Actually, I think the witching hour is three AM. And don't talk to me about witches." Thinking about Hogwarts while he was in his non-magical world was just as painful as thinking of the non-magical world while at Hogwarts.

Draco suddenly stuck his face directly in Harry's line of vision and Harry gave a startled gasp, since their faces were now only about six inches apart. Harry managed to surprise himself when, with a mutinous thought, he considered closing that gap. Whatever Draco did had a way of surprising Harry.

"Whyever not?" Draco pouted. "I want to hear about magic and witches." Harry could now see that Draco was clutching a plastic fork in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other. He thrust the fork through the space between the pillow and the bed. "Here. This is your magic wand. Honestly, they really should keep a closer eye on us; who knows what we might steal at dinnertime?" Draco clucked in mock-concern.

Pulling the pillow off his head, Harry sat up and eyed the fork. "You want this to be my magic wand?" he said incredulously.

"Would you prefer the spoon?"

Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, so Draco was now crouched in front of him. Oh, no, Harry thought. Not good at all. Jittery, he jumped back a bit, crashing into his bed. Draco smirked, but didn't say anything, lingering in that spot for a moment before standing as well.

Harry considered things. He could just go back to sleep and ignore Draco, but knowing Malfoy's personality at Hogwarts, he probably wouldn't easily accept being ignored. For some reason, it was one of Harry's top priorities that this Draco not be angry with him. On the other hand, he could entertain Malfoy's whims and teach him some magic, even if nothing actually happened. It'd be a nice way to pass the time, at least.

Harry glanced around, noting the other beds filled with sleeping residents, and jerked his head toward them. "All right, I'll teach you magic. But there are too many people here, so we'll have to be really quiet."

Draco's whole face lit up. "No, that won't be necessary. I know a place. Come on." He started walking away, but noticed Harry wasn't following. Arching an eyebrow, Draco asked, "What's wrong? Chicken?" He offered an outstretched hand.

If there was one thing that Harry Potter wasn't, it was chicken. Summoning up his courage, he grabbed Draco's hand and allowed himself to be led away. Honestly, taking Draco's hand was a lot more unnerving than sneaking out. Harry was skilled in the latter, after all.

The pair tiptoed out of the Boys' Ward and down a narrow corridor. Harry, who was concentrating very hard on not letting his hand get all sweaty, tripped over his own feet, but managed to catch himself in time. He blushed deeply, but Draco only let out a soft snort, not even letting go of Harry's hand.

At the end of the hallway, Draco pinched two coats hanging on pegs and whispered to Harry, "These hospital gowns are a wee bit revealing. We might want to cover up a bit." He held up the coats. "What do you think? Pink or brown?"

"Uh, brown," Harry mumbled. He eyed the other coat warily; it seemed to be partially covered in shiny, shimmery material.

"Just as well," said Draco lightly, dropping Harry's hand and slipping on the pink one. "I look horrible in brown." Harry wanted to tell him that he looked pretty horrible in the pink, too, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Noticing the look on Harry's face, Draco let out a sharp, short laugh. "Yes, I know. Horrible in the pink, too. Beggars can't be choosers, though."

After Harry shrugged on the stolen - borrowed, rather - coat, Draco grabbed his hand once again and Harry felt his face go pink with pleasure. The boys made a sharp left, Harry struggling to keep up with Draco, finally reaching a door at the end of a corridor. It turned out to be an emergency exit, with a sign reading, "DO NOT OPEN EXCEPT IN EMERGENCY. ALARM WILL SOUND."

Harry looked doubtfully at Draco. "Are we going to make everyone in the building deaf, too?"

Draco fixed Harry with an intense stare and Harry felt his knees give a little, causing him to once again wonder what exactly was wrong with him. "Silly boy," Draco replied. "Obviously, the door's broken. I noticed it when wandering around one day. You just have to know how to handle it." With that, Draco jutted his hip out, forcing the door open. "This is my little paradise. After you," he said and bowed with a little flourish. The exaggerated, elegant gesture reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart - the obliviated professor, of course, not the toothless hospital resident.

The little paradise turned out to be a balcony leading to a fire escape. "Your little paradise has an awful lot of concrete, you know," Harry informed Draco.

"Shut up, Harry," Draco retorted fondly. Draco gestured to a darkened corner. "We also have amenities." Apparently, two soggy, smuggled pillows counted as amenities. Still, Harry reasoned, it was nice to be outside. St. George's was a little claustrophobic. After all, Harry wasn't actually crazy; he just couldn't keep himself on one plane of existence.

"Very posh. Next you'll be telling me every morning they put mints on those things," he joked, pointing at the pillows.

"Oh, they do," Draco assured him. "Still have your wand?" Harry did, holding the fork up as proof. In reply, Draco pulled out his spoon and gave a short bow.

Duelling with plastic cutlery. I really have gone mad.

"What do you want to learn magic for, anyway?" Harry asked Draco. "It's not like we can use it here." Sullen, Harry looked out over the balcony. The lights of the town glittered in the distance.

Draco gave a petulant little sigh. "Because," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing ever. "I make my own magic. I might as well go through the proper channels to do it, though, shouldn't I?"

Always a Malfoy.

"I suppose. 'S not like we've anything better to do, anyway." Harry walked over to Draco and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He asked, "Which one's your wand hand?"

"My wand hand?" Draco laughed. "I suppose my right." He held the spoon out in front of him.

"All right, then!" Harry exclaimed in his best Ollivander impression. Admittedly, it wasn't particularly good, but it wasn't like Draco would know the difference. "Why don't you give it a little wave?"

Draco gave the spoon an enthusiastic - and very over-embellished - wave. Harry stifled a laugh.

"Why don't you try it this way?" Harry held his "wand" properly and demonstrated the swish-and-flick method that Flitwick first taught him his first year. Draco tried again, but still couldn't help ending with the dramatic flourish.

Right then, Harry decided that if he was to teach, he was going to do it correctly and went to stand behind Draco. It wasn't until he had one hand wrapped around the other boy's wrist and his fist that clutched the fork braced against Draco's hip that he realised he was touching Draco. In more than one place.

"All-all right," Harry stammered. "Why don't you try it this way?" This time, he slowly guided Draco's motions until they were less jerkily following Harry's instruction.

"Mmm," Draco practically purred in response. "Well, the wand waving was more fun my way, but I like having you here better, Professor. Hard to decide which I like more."

Finding his mouth suddenly dry, Harry swallowed hard, stepping back a bit in order to put a little distance between his and Draco's bodies. Hospital gowns weren't exactly known for their furry thickness, even if he was currently wearing a coat, and he felt that with any more of this purring, that fact would soon become problematic.

Draco turned around to face his "professor", not bothering to widen the gap between them any more. "Teach me a spell."

Charms or hexes would be the easiest. They had the funny words to go along with all the wand waving and it wasn't like they'd be able to turn a match into a needle or anything. Harry thought for a moment and said, "All right. This one is to levitate things. Repeat after me. Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry pointed the fork at a pillow, half-expecting that it would start rising.

It didn't, of course, but Harry pushed his disappointment away and shrugged. Draco repeated, "Win-gar-dee-um Lev-ee-oh-sar."

"Oh-SA, not oh-SAR. Try again." Harry tried ignoring how much he sounded like Hermione.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco pointed the spoon at the pillow. Harry expected Draco to give up because nothing happened, but he merely looked delighted. "So, in your world, I'd make things levitate with that! Brilliant! Show me more."

Over the next hour or so, Harry taught Draco nearly every incantation he knew. When teaching Draco, Harry found it important to use the actual magic words, instead of making up spells. Of course, he knew if he told Draco that "flibbity-gibbet" was a spell, Draco probably would have believed him, so he wasn't sure why he strove for accuracy. Probably as a tie to his other life, or perhaps because he thought Draco deserved the truth.

Harry even taught Draco the incantations for the Unforgiveables, explaining their history and how the death curse had killed his parents, though he did stop short before spilling that he'd once tried the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. Seemed too private or painful for now. He hoped he'd get to see his mum and dad and Sirius tomorrow. If I'm still here, that is.

Shaking his head, he looked over at Draco. The other boy was wildly slashing through the air with his spoon and shouting "Aparecium Stupefy Riddikulus!" The combination of Draco's dramatic actions and the ridiculousness of the spell caused Harry to burst into laughter and he pounded the concrete wall with his fist. Harry slid down the wall to the slightly damp cushions, wondering what that spell would do. He decided it would make a boggart reveal itself, get stunned and turn into Snape in a dress, and started laughing so hard that tears of mirth clouded his eyesight.

Breathless, Draco flung himself down next to Harry. "Are you laughing at me?" he said indignantly.

"Sort of. I was just wondering what would happen if you combined all those spells. Never mind - it's complicated." He observed that Draco was now lying back against the wall, his eyes half-closed, the picture of total relaxation. How could one person change their moods so rapidly? "Tired?"

"Mmm." Draco lazily rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry froze and stared straight ahead, unsure how to behave. Deciding it was best for him to just ignore the surprising - though not unwelcome - action, he said to the other boy, "Tell me about your parents."

Draco sat up, fully awake again, his eyes suddenly cold and narrowed, reminding Harry of the real Draco. Harry cringed and knew he'd said something very wrong. "You don't have to," Harry hastily apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

Draco immediately relaxed again. "No, it's all right. It's fair. You taught me about your magic and since it's what landed you in here -"

"Sort of," interrupted Harry.

"Since it's what sort of landed you in here," Draco agreed, "I suppose you should know what landed me in here." Draco looked down at his hands, which were now folded onto his lap.

Harry tried to look both encouraging and sympathetic, but was sure he was failing miserably. What was it that Hermione said about being emotionally stunted? He sighed.

Draco sighed, too. "I grew up fairly privileged. My family came from old money. We led what's usually called a charmed life and I attended an expensive, exclusive school. I had everything I could ever want. My parents doted on me and, to be honest, I was quite spoiled. I'm sure I'd probably be quite the brat if that had continued."

At that, Harry let out a very small laugh.

"That all changed when I was ten, though. Father, Mother, and I were returning from a day trip with our driver. It was late, and I was falling asleep, so I don't remember much of what happened. I remember tyres squealing and a loud crunch, and then I must have been knocked unconscious.

"When I came to, I was in hospital, barely able to move. Fifty percent of my body was covered in severe burns and I had a broken leg. My parents were both dead, as was our driver, who'd been drunk out of his mind and missed a bend. Our car collided with a lorry and went up in flames. We were moving so quickly and the impact was so great that the other passengers were all killed instantly." Draco took a great, shuddering breath and Harry raised his hand to his arm, but only hovered over it. He settled for what he hoped was an encouraging nod.

Draco continued, "My body was in a relaxed state and the doctors say that's probably what saved my life."

Harry managed to mumble, "I'm sorry."

Smiling slightly, Draco said, "What for? It's not like your life has been all peaches and cream, right? Anyway, for awhile, I worked very hard at getting better. There was physical therapy, but eventually I felt it fruitless. I had no parents and though two of my grandparents were still alive, I didn't want them. I wanted my mum and dad back."

"I can certainly relate to that... even if I do have them here." Harry hoped that wasn't the wrong thing to say.

Draco barely reacted. He was obviously too wrapped up in dredging up painful memories. "There were skin grafts, but still a lot of scarring. Physical therapy was painful and I hated being in and out of hospital so often. My grandparents took care of me, - they still do, in fact - but after a year, I grew more depressed and sullen than any eleven year old has a right to be and made a decision to end it all. Stole a knife from my grandparents' kitchen and sliced up my wrists."

Draco showed him the scars on his left wrist and Harry drew in a sharp breath. On the inside of the wrist, surrounded by many other scars, was a scar where a faded burn met a faded cut. It looked almost like a snake entwined with a skull.

"S'ok, Harry. It's just what happened," Draco assured him, misunderstanding his reaction. "I did it wrong, obviously, as I'm still here, talking to you. Grandmother found me and an ambulance was called. I was diagnosed as a clinical depressive and put under psychiatric care. It wasn't until I tried almost the same thing four or five other times that I ended up here. You and I have been in the same group ever since. I'm getting better, Harry, but I doubt I'll ever be completely okay on my own."

Harry shook off the shock of seeing the scar-equivalent of the Dark Mark on this Draco, Surprisingly, he heard himself say, "Well, we'll just have to make sure you're never on your own then, won't we?"

Draco smiled genuinely and said, "That's a nice thought, Harry. But I can tell; if you can keep it together, you'll be out of here soon. When you're conscious, you're just so... normal."

Trying to look indignant, Harry retorted, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Fine. You're strange, but not in the way that keeps you in a mental hospital forever. Better?"

"Sort of," Harry said petulantly.

In reply, Draco laughed. It was a full, rich laugh and it made his eyes sparkle and Harry recklessly want to kiss him.

So he did.

To say that birds sang, fireworks erupted and the Earth shook would be a bit of an overstatement. In fact, the kiss was rather awkward. Draco's mouth hadn't completely closed from his laugh and Harry's teeth clacked painfully against his. Harry's eyes were still open, as were Draco's, the latter's alight with shock. Also, Harry had had to lean into Draco at a strange angle, so he was twisted quite uncomfortably.

At least it's not wet. Harry's thoughts flew to his experience with Cho under the mistletoe. A second later, when Draco's tongue pushed its way into Harry's mouth, Harry revised, Not unpleasantly wet, that is. It seemed that Draco had found his bearings.

A few seconds later, Draco pulled away, panting slightly. "Well, that was certainly a surprise. Not that you like blokes," he assured Harry. "That's been obvious from the first time you woke up and spoke to me. I'm just surprised you initiated anything."

Harry was taken aback. Like blokes? he thought. Draco was certainly male, but Harry remembered the flips his stomach used to make around Cho and he certainly found Fleur fit enough. "Like blokes?" he repeated aloud. "I don't know. I've liked girls before." After a moment, he added, "Maybe I just like you."

Getting better at the emotional honesty thing, aren't you, Potter?

"Fair enough. I'm eminently likeable, after all." Draco guided Harry's chin so they were directly facing one another and stated matter-of-factly, "Now I'm going to kiss you again."

As Draco slowly leaned in, their mouths not quite touching, Harry found enough of his voice to stammer out, "Oh-okay."

Their lips met again, this second kiss much better than the first. Draco's lips were cold from being outside in only the pink coat and hospital gown, but quickly warmed from contact with Harry's. They were thin and soft and probably the nicest things Harry's lips had ever touched. Almost of its own accord, Harry's mouth opened slightly and Draco's tongue darted inside it again, tasting him. Harry had no idea what to do with his own tongue, so he settled for circling it around Draco's, satisfied when Draco moaned softly into his mouth.

Draco pulled away and, just as Harry was about to protest, he leaned in again, nibbling at Harry's earlobe. Harry shut up very quickly. As he felt the rough tongue tickle the outer edge, he whimpered, becoming aware of the rising heat in the lower half of his body.

These hospital gowns are far, far too thin.

As if in answer to Harry's thoughts, Draco arranged his body so he was nearly laying on top of Harry. Harry settled himself into a half-sitting, half-laying position and felt Draco's erection press into his leg through the thin layers of fabric. Harry gasped softly.

"Have you ever done this before?" Draco breathed into Harry's ear.

Being a boy, Harry briefly considered lying. He reasoned that if he had truly been in an imaginary world, he certainly could have done... this... before, but decided he'd rather tell the truth. "No," he told Draco, startled that his voice was nearly as breathy as the other boy's. "I've had just a couple of rather boring kisses."

Draco laughed throatily, sending shivers up and down Harry's spine. He then moved his lips along the side of Harry's face, catching his lips quickly once more, before moving down to his neck. Harry groaned appreciatively as Draco sucked on the sensitive flesh, deciding he wanted to return the favour, no matter how inexperienced he was.

When Draco pulled away a bit and looked at Harry, Harry stretched upwards, kissing Draco's jaw and all down his neck. Experimentally, he gave a small lick. Draco tasted salty, but not unpleasantly so. Harry then started sucking and biting Draco's neck lightly. He peered up at Draco and tentatively asked, "Is this all right?"

Draco nodded and Harry thought that might be because he could no longer make any coherent sentences. Harry laughed quietly, pleased with that response, and started claiming every inch of Draco's throat as his own. He tried varying degrees of pressure and flicked his tongue in a few different ways, seeing what kind of reaction each action would elicit from Draco.

Draco's eyes were half-closed and he was making tiny noises, still pressing his body to Harry's. Harry pulled Draco's head down, so they were at eye level again and asked him, "Have you ever done this before?"

Any feigned arrogance gone, Draco managed to whisper, "Just a couple of boring kisses." Harry laughed gently. Draco added, "With other people here. I mean, it's not like I'm getting out a lot. Good thing I like boys, yes?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, kissing Draco again. His Gryffindor mentality of boldly exploring new territory overtook him and he flipped Draco, so Harry was now lying on top of him. Draco gave a little gasp, but didn't look displeased by the arrangement.

Harry leaned down to capture Draco's lips between his teeth, while Draco fumbled with the buttons and clasps of both coats, opening his own first before moving on to Harry's. When the coats finally both fell open, Harry pressed against Draco and let out a little gasp of his own. The gowns were so thin it was almost as though nothing at all separated them.

Again, feeling bold, he lifted the hem of Draco's gown, never breaking their kiss. When his hand landed on Draco's thigh, Draco sighed against Harry's mouth. As the brave feelings grew, he lifted Draco's robe up and caressed his stomach. He asked, "Are you cold? I can stop, if you'd like."

Draco panted, "No. No stopping. Not cold. Just stay near me." Harry readily agreed.

His hand brushed across Draco's chest and he rubbed one of Draco's nipples, hoping that he was doing something right. In reply, Draco's tongue pushed further into Harry's mouth and he moaned a bit louder. His hand also strayed from Harry's lower back to his arse, further encouraging him. Harry moaned appreciatively in reply.

In the furthering adventures of Harry's right hand, he moved down Draco's stomach again, relishing the feel of the soft hair on his belly, before moving to the waistband of Draco's y-fronts. He pulled away and looked into Draco's eyes. Before he could ask a thing, Draco said, "For God's sake, Harry, anything you want to do to me is all right by me. Especially if you plan on putting your hands where I think you do. Just touch me. Please." The last plea was more a groan than a word and Harry felt himself grow harder, which he found odd since he hadn't thought that possible.

Harry couldn't restrain himself any longer with a request like that, and put his hands - and later his mouth - in places he'd never figured they'd go. When Draco returned the favour, Harry knew that he'd need to do this again - and soon. The night wearing on, Harry learned just how much a bloke could like another bloke, until both finally collapsed in a sweaty heap.

Afterwards, the two laid around shivering and staring up at the slowly brightening sky. "You know," Draco mumbled into Harry's hair, "we can't lay out here all night."

"Shh. Sleeping."

"You are not. Come on. We've got to return these before the shifts change," said Draco, gesturing at their coats.

Harry sat up and gasped. "Oh God. Someone else has to wear these, don't they?"

Draco raised his eyebrow. "What did you think? That they left coats on hooks so that the patients would have outerwear if they wanted to fool around? Dummy."

"Am not. About this, I suppose I am, though. Who would want to wear these things after... after that?" asked Harry, scandalised.

"Well, it's not like we're going to tell anyone. Come on." Draco arranged himself as best he could and pulled Harry up. "Let's get back inside."

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be led.

"Oh. Hmm," said Draco. He looked mildly intrigued.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly panicked.

Draco gestured to a tiny blinking red light. "Uhm. That."

Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "That's a camera! Oh God, what if someone sees us?"

Unconcerned, Draco replied, "Then someone has some rather hot surveillance footage."

"Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble?"

"Not particularly, no. First of all, no one was watching it as it happened or else someone would have come to get us. Secondly, what are they going to do? Commit me?" He laughed sharply. "Listen, don't worry about it. Let's just get back to our beds."

Harry relaxed a bit when they got back inside, putting the brown coat back and rubbing his shoulders to warm up. Seemingly content, he suddenly froze up. "Oh God, what if my parents see that? I've had parents for a day and I've already done something to make them want to disown me. 'Hi Mum and Dad! I know I've been in trapped in a magical world for the past five years, but I can explain about the tape of me rolling around nearly naked with another guy on the balcony of the mental hospital.'"

Draco laughed more genuinely this time. Surprised, Harry looked up and Draco lightly kissed his lips. He said simply, "You worry too much. Let's get out of here."

Harry supposed he did worry too much.

The two boys made their way back to the ward and Harry sleepily thought to himself before dozing off, Holy crap, I had sex. Well, sort of. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

When Harry woke up the next morning, Draco was sitting near his bedside, staring at him. "G'morning," he mumbled sleepily, a smile creeping onto his face.

Draco's face screwed up into one of disgust. "What is wrong with you, Potter?" he spat.

Oh. Damn. Harry took in the sights and smells of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. He propped himself up on one elbow and sighed, "Nothing's wrong with me, Malfoy. I've just woken up with you staring at me for the third time this week."

"Third?" Confusion momentarily replaced the wrath in Draco's eyes.

"Erm. Second. Sorry. Little confused. Just woke up, after all."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm fairly sure that you wake up confused quite often."

Suddenly reminded of his Draco, Harry fought down the urge to laugh. He knew that would just further anger this Malfoy and Harry was still sleepy and didn't much feel like getting hexed or punched yet. Is it wrong to want to kiss him? Harry wondered. Yes. Yes, it's probably wrong. I am sick, sick boy. Who got some on a balcony. Outside. In a possibly imaginary universe. This time, Harry couldn't suppress his grin.

Draco flew into a rage and practically screamed, "What the hell are you laughing about? Nothing funny is happening!"

"Not to you, maybe," retorted Harry. He looked about for his wand, figuring he'd want to defend himself, but Draco just leaned back in the chair again. Harry decided he'd try again and said, "Malfoy, what are you really doing here?"

"I...," Draco trailed off stupidly.

Malfoy, speechless? Harry was more than a little disturbed. Watching Malfoy nervously wring his hands, he remembered the scar he'd seen on Draco's wrist last night. Following a hunch, he peered thoughtfully at Malfoy's face.

"Malfoy? When did you get the Dark Mark?"

Draco's head snapped up and he hissed, "How did you know that?" Realising what he said, a look of fear crossed his face and he tried to run out.

"Don't go! I have an idea about why you're here."

Freezing in the doorway, Draco turned to look at Harry. "What would you know about me?"

"Probably more than you think," Harry said calmly. And Draco, amazingly, made no move to leave.