When Does Dreaming End?

I feel like I've been blown apart

All the pieces there, they fit to make me whole,

I don't know where they go.

Kiss me on my salty lips,

You will feel a little crazy but for me.

I'll be famous on TV.

Would it be my fault if I could turn you on?

Would it be so bad if I could turn you on?

When I kiss your mouth,

I wanna taste it.

Turn you upside down,

Don’t wanna waste it. (Merril Bainbridge – Mouth.)

~

A single look shatters him into a million pieces, his green eyes imploring me, begging me to say the three words he wants to hear.

I cannot give him that satisfaction and it kills him. It wrenches him apart inside, like a dagger plunging deep into his chest, twisting painfully. It makes me soar, having power like that over somebody.

I whisper sweet nothings in his ear, watching his face light up in pathetic delectation. He looks into my eyes, met by a cool gaze. His emotions are read as easily as a book. I can feel him wondering if this means anything to me. I let my expression reassure him that he is nothing, and never has been. A look of pain flickers across his face, one of hardened determination. We lie there, entangled in sheets; the cool night air drifting through the window brings goose pimples to his arms. Strong, muscular arms that could break a man's neck, yet so delicate and pure, never intended for such use.

Sleep comes, as it always does.

And finally, I can let my emotions show.

These dreams were frequent, and on many occasions, Draco had tasted the bitter disappointment of discovering that these trysts were in fact, just dreams.

***

Draco Malfoy sat in Potions, watching Professor Snape conduct the class. He knew how his father hated him befriending Snape, which was rather the point of Draco doing so in the first place. He watched Harry scribble down everything the potions master said. It amused him that Harry had to try so hard and yet still, Professor Snape loathed the very sight of him.

At lunch, Draco sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts. He had been having the same dream, over and over again. Nightmares that ensnared his senses, making him feel alive, more than he had done so before. It was almost as if they were real. Draco snorted at this thought. They could never be real. Draco new the truth and as much as it pained him to say, think or even accept, the one person who had captured his attention could never reciprocate his feelings. He saw Harry out of the corner of his eye and the pang of hopelessness struck him as it always did, every time he caught those green eyes – The same ones that looked at him with adoration and fear in his dreams.

***

Harry felt the eyes boring into his back. He spun around and saw Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table, regarding him with a mixture of emotions, which, Harry could not tell – Draco Malfoy hid his emotions well. There was something about Malfoy that was different… The way he looked at Harry, and the way he held himself in Harry’s presence. Physically, he'd grown up to be an extremely attractive youth - Beautiful was how Harry would have described it. His chiseled and refined features captivated, giving him a look that was uniquely his. Something about the way he was had changed.

Gone were the days when Harry and his friends were the focus of his torments. Maturity had come to him, now aged seventeen. Harry longed to feel his skin against his own, the thought sent cold chills running along his spine, branching off his nerves sending jolts of pleasure rippling through him to his very fingertips.

"Harry, are you all right? You're trembling," A voice said at his elbow.

"I'm just a bit cold," he said absentmindedly, sitting down next to Hermione.

"It's 35º, Harry. How on earth can you be cold?" Hermione asked, following his gaze. "Don't tell me you are still hacked off at Malfoy?"

"Wha-?" Harry looked up at the mention of his name.

"He's a git. We all know that, move on," said Hermione. Harry nodded vaguely, whilst deep in thought. They could never be real... He thought bitterly. He stole a look at Malfoy, who was surrounded by girls. He appeared to love it, lapping up the attention, as he always did. He caught Harry's eye for a split second, before turning away. A look of desire burned into Harry's mind, like he had never seen before. "Harry, come here... I haven't spoken to you in days," Hermione said. He had almost forgotten that she was meant to be his girlfriend. He leaned over and kissed her, momentarily imagining that her lips were Malfoy's. But this was to no avail. These were Hermione's lips.

His mind is somewhere else... Hermione thought to herself.

***

Harry found himself roaming the hallways mindlessly, waving to those he knew without realising he was doing it. He went to the astronomy tower. Nobody went there anymore. Apart from classes, but it was Saturday. He sat in the tower, in a small room off the main tower. He settled at the window, in a confused state of mind, wondering where these wishing that his feelings would disapparate, but it was like his magic, there was no quelling this feeling inside. It was part of him.

He had seen the way that Draco looked at him; he knew that Draco yearned for his touch. Harry felt the same way.

"Potter, what are you doing up here?" Malfoy drawled from the door. Harry turned and raised an eyebrow.

"The same reason as you are... Malfoy," He drawled back. He hadn't quite mastered it to the extent that Draco had. Draco walked over to where Harry was standing, regarding him with false contempt.

"And, what exactly are you assuming that I am here for?" Malfoy's eyes glinted dangerously.

"You know... You feel it too," said Harry, more boldly than he felt.

"I do not listen to my emotions,” said Draco, his confidence wavering slightly.

"Not even when the object that your emotions are screaming at you to have... Is. Willing?" He said, his voice now trembling. Harry stood. Both were eye to eye, and had similar physiques, yet were so different that hell and heaven seemed more suited.

"Willing?" Draco whispered, allowing himself to keep eye contact with Harry. Harry nodded, raising a hand to brush Draco's cheek. Draco flinched; Harry's touch sending jolts through his skin. Draco made up his mind.

"Meet me outside the Slytherin dungeons, tonight at twelve. Don't be late." He said, his heart racing. He turned to leave,

"Wait," said Harry, reaching out and grabbing his arm before Draco could leave. If Harry was nervous then he was doing a good job of hiding it. He stepped closer to Draco, their faces almost touching. He leaned forward and kissed him. Draco felt the power flow through their lips as they kissed. Harry's tongue roamed his mouth, hungrily at first, but then reduced to soft, small teasing kissed which only succeeded in making Draco want him more than ever. Harry pulled away, smiling. "Twelve o'clock." He turned and strode out, leaving Draco standing there, slightly in shock. He touched his lips, where Harry's were just a second ago, they were still tingling and he thought morosely of the long wait between now and twelve o'clock. He too, left the tower.

Twelve am.

Harry stood outside the Slytherin dungeon, underneath the invisibility cloak. He head the wall slide open, and Draco came out, looking around. He swore when he saw that Harry wasn't there.

"Draco," He said as he pulled the cloak off him. Harry saw a look of relief cross his face when he showed himself.

"I didn't think that you would come..." Draco drawled, though somewhat hesitantly… For a brief moment, Draco had let his guard down. 

"I didn't think that you would show either," Harry admitted.

"Come." Draco said. Harry threw the invisibility cloak over him and followed him into the Slytherin common room. Draco walked up the stairs to a room that was clearly labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. Harry looked awed at the fact that Draco had his own room.

"It comes with the whole prefect thing," he explained. Harry walked into the room, and locked the door behind them.

***

I feel his eyes searching mine, and I try not to let anything show. Harry walks over to me, staring intently at me. I can see the lust and desire in his eyes, not bothering to hide how he feels. He presses his lips against mine and again I feel like a thousand volts of power are surging through our lips. I kiss back passionately, his tongue ravaging my mouth leaving me feeling threatened that somebody could have that effect on me. He unbuttons his shirt, not breaking the kiss. I can feel his skin touch my own like fire against ice. He pushed me against the post of the bed, now unbuttoning my shirt. His calloused hands run expertly up and down my skin, making me break out in goose pimples. Bringing me over to the bed, he straddled me, his erection bulging through his boxer shorts. I feel myself growing harder, as he unzips my pants and slid them down easily over my waist. I feel his cool flesh against mine, only making he hunger for his touch. He kisses my stomach, working his way up until he kisses my mouth, almost brutally. I push my hands down his underwear, my hands touching the bare skin beneath his shorts. I slide them off him as he lies on top of me, no sign of self-consciousness. I turn him over and straddle him, running my hands up and down his toned body. He groans softly. Somewhere in my subconscious I think of silencing charms, that doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. He makes slow, yet wild, reckless love to me.

Later, we lie in silence – my head resting upon Harry’s chest.

A single look could break me into a million pieces, my eyes imploring Harry’s, begging him to say the three words that I want to hear.

He doesn't and it kills me, wrenches me apart inside, like a dagger plunging deep into my chest, twisting painfully. I can see the exhilaration in his eyes at having such power over me. He whispers sweet nothings into my ear; I can feel my face light up in pathetic delectation.

I thought that if I fed my hunger, then it would be satisfied, yet this has only fuelled my desire for him, I never thought that Harry would have this effect on me. I want to know, if this means anything to him, as much as it does to me. His green eyes show nothing, and for all I know that is all I could mean to him. We lie there, entangled in sheets, the cool night air drifts through the window. Silence pervades the air around us, and sleep comes. As it always does.

***

 

Now would it be my fault if I,

Took your love and threw it wide,

You might restrain me,

But could you really blame me?

And you will feel you're blown apart,

All the pieces there will fit to make you whole

And I know where they go. – Merril Bainbridge, Mouth.