Chapter Text
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Harry shouted, cheeks flushing with anger as he clenched his fists at his sides.
Draco swivelled his head and looked at Harry, a smirk gracing his features as he dropped his bag into the waiting hands of his silent goons. Apparently, it was time once again to show Potter that one did not speak to a Malfoy like that.
He stalked toward Harry, putting the threat of violence into his swagger. “What’s that, Potter?”
Harry watched through glinting green eyes as Draco walked toward him with hips that seemed to swivel without consideration for the laws of physics. He stood his ground, chin tipped up like the brave fool he was, trying desperately to ignore the way his blood sped through his veins--not at the threat of impending danger, but with the hope of sexual contact.
Draco tipped his head sexily as he sauntered toward Potter, gazing through his pale eyelashes at his slightly shorter classmate. He would make Potter pay, all right. His lips curled into an evil smile as the thought of the lesson he was about to inflict made his pulse surge.
Right as he was ready to set his plan into motion, he looked into Potter's eyes and became lost. He faltered, head dipping toward the brunet's with no direction from his temporarily absent brain. 'Green' just didn't describe those eyes. They were more perfect than emeralds, but had the true pure colour of the first blade of spring. They sparkled in the sunlight, dazzling him with their beauty.
He jerked his gaze away, needing to right his hold on reality. Unfortunately, he redirected his gaze to Potter's full, red lips, which were currently parted, quick breaths gusting over them. Potter broke his will with one swipe of a wet, pink tongue over those luscious lips.
Groaning audibly, he allowed his head to fall the rest of the way, angling just right to avoid bumping Potter's nose. He brushed his lips against the pillowy softness of the brunet’s mouth, needing to keep this slow but not knowing why. He heard a questioning sound escape his prey and in reply brought one hand up to cup the back of his head, gentling him and pulling him into the kiss. Opening his mouth, he licked along the full lower lip that would from this moment on star in all his fantasies.
"Potter," he murmured huskily, begging for more.
Harry sighed and opened his mouth, their classmates and surroundings long forgotten in the splendour of this kiss. Their first, but hopefully not their only. He slid his hands into Draco's robes, smoothing them over the hips that had teased his imagination so many times during the years, wrapping around to cup the blond’s perfect arse.
Draco rubbed his thumb against Harry's jaw, encouraging him to open his mouth wider, to accept the thrust of his tongue. Granted entrance at last, he moaned and pushed forward, senses on overload as the kiss quickly turned passionate and needy. Tongues curled and teeth clacked as they both fought for possession of the other.
The firm hands kneading his arse sent Draco into a frenzy of want. He thrust his fingers into Potter's--Harry's--messy hair, pulling on it slightly as he transferred his mouth to the brunet's long, corded neck.
Harry rubbed his hips against those of his nemesis, needing the friction. He whispered Draco's name over and over as the blond bit down on the sensitive place at the base of his throat. Harry gasped harshly, jerking the silk shirt from Draco's trousers, needing to feel the hot, smooth skin underneath. “Malfoy, oh gods, Malfoy…”
“Draco!” Harry called, his voice changing, becoming Goyle’s. “Draco!”
A large hand shook his shoulder, waking him up. Draco lay in his bed, gasping for breath, the sheets twisted around his body.
~*~
“You ok, mate?” his best friend asked, watching as he tried desperately to collect himself and his scattered wits. That dream!
He blinked up at the fuzzy image of Ron and croaked, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go on down to the common room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Ron nodded, worry etching his forehead, and left to go find his girlfriend. Hermione would know how to get Harry to tell them what was wrong.
Harry lay in his bed for a moment and lifted his fingers to his lips. He could still taste Dra—the other man on his lips. Dragging in a shaky breath he reached down and took care of his ‘problem’ in an embarrassingly brief period of time. Casting a quick cleaning charm on himself and his bed, he hurriedly washed and dressed, racing down to the common room where Hermione and Ron stood waiting.
Hands on hips, Hermione rounded on him. “Harry, Ron said you had a nightmare. Do we need to go see the Headmaster?”
Shooting a black scowl at Ron for his treachery, Harry replied, “It wasn’t that kind of nightmare, Herms. Now, can we go eat? I’m starving!”
“Sorry, mate,” Ron muttered, worrying the back of his freckled neck. “It’s just, you were screaming about Malfoy and I thought maybe you knew where he was or something. You know.”
Harry felt his face assuming a puzzled expression. “Malfoy’s in his dorms Ron. Where else would he be?”
Ron’s mouth dropped open for a second before he sputtered, “I thought you were yelling about Lucius Malfoy, Harry. I thought maybe you saw where he was or something.”
Harry’s face burst into flame as he avoided Ron’s questioning gaze. “Uh, yeah, ok. Breakfast, then?”
Hermione sighed disgustedly but the trio left and quickly found themselves sitting down to a sumptuous breakfast.
From where Harry was sitting he had a clear view of Malfoy. His eggs turned to dust in his mouth as he relived the startlingly vivid dream he’d had last night. He remembered the feel of those lips on his; his head still tingled from where Malfoy had tugged on his hair. Harry squirmed in his seat, the fit of his trousers becoming increasingly tight the longer he looked at the beautiful blond across the hall.
Hermione noticed that Harry only took a few bites before pushing his food around his plate. “Harry…”
Harry looked at her, his face slightly flushed as he said, “Don’t worry, Hermione. I’m ok. I promise.” He smiled at her and patted her hand, letting her know without words that he appreciated the love behind the worry.
Her smile didn’t quite reach her troubled eyes as she grasped his hand and squeezed.
Harry got up to leave the table, needing some sort of physical activity to take his mind off matters. “I’m going flying, Ron. Want to come?”
Around a mouthful of food, Ron promised to join him as soon as he was finished with his breakfast.
Harry strode toward the doors, not noticing a certain blond heading in the same direction.
~*~
Draco left breakfast early, his emotions still in turmoil over his dream from the night before. He needed to get out of the castle, leave everything and just…just leave. It was a perfect day for flying and he was determined to get out to the pitch before anyone else. As he approached the doors to the great hall, he didn’t notice Harry moving in the same direction, their paths destined to coincide.
“Oomph!” Draco staggered back from the collision, hand reaching automatically to help right whomever he’d run into. His hand closed over Harry’s forearm and when their eyes met, the dream from the previous night came rushing back to him. He’d been right. ‘Green’ didn’t do them justice.
The two boys stood looking at one another, gazes locked for what seemed an eternity. Emotions flashed through vibrant emerald pools: confusion, anxiety, and something else, something indefinable. The brunet slowly pulled his arm free of Draco’s grasp and the feel of that skin sliding under his hand was achingly, hauntingly familiar, as if they’d stood in this time and place before.
Draco’s lips parted on a breath, one he’d forgotten to take in his moment of rapture. Blinking quickly, he dropped his gaze and stepped back, gathering his wits enough to sneer shakily, “Potter. Clumsy as always, I see.”
The other boy lifted his chin in familiar defiance, and replied coolly, “And yet I still beat you at everything, don’t I, Malfoy?”
Draco watched as the dark haired teen turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He didn’t notice that the hall had gone deathly silent as their schoolmates and professors watched the strangely intense interplay between the two young rivals.
He rubbed the tips of his fingers over his palm, trying to recapture the sensations he’d felt so fleetingly only moments before. It just wasn’t the same. Potter’s skin was…different, warmer, smoother, softer than his own. With a hard shake of his head, he let his feet carry him from the hall, needing the release flying always brought him.
As he approached the pitch, he saw that he was too late; someone had beaten him there. He watched, enthralled, as the tiny figure looped and whirled, spinning faster and faster around the pitch, zigzagging dangerously. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that the only person who could fly with such perfect abandon was his long time nemesis.
His silvery gaze tracked the brunet on the broom as his mouth parted on a shuddering breath. He absently adjusted the fit of his trousers, whole being focused on the reckless boy shooting through the air. Gods, what was this sudden fascination with Potter all about? Why couldn’t he hold on to his anger?
All he knew was that he was in no state to see anyone else. Hearing footsteps coming toward him, he ducked under the bleachers and remained silent, as Weasley passed within a few feet of his hiding place. Vaguely shaken, he hurried back to the castle, taking refuge in his room.