(no subject)
Title: Hogwarts Express
Author: Hanschen Rilow
Challenge: bath
Word: 100 x 4
Pairing: hpdm
Author's notes: cussing, erections
Disclaiming: I own only the plot
Draco was eleven years old.
And being eleven brought it’s own peculiar additions to life.
First, he was experience unexplainable swellings of his groin, followed by an itch to touch himself.
Draco was sure the world was ending as he knew it.
He sat in the bath his mother had drawn him, looking at his erection sadly.
He wondered if this was in any way related to the boy he met Madam Malkin’s Robes that morning. When the little, raven-haired kid, came near, he felt his knees go weak, and his stomach turn. He wanted to touch him.
Life sucked.
+
Draco’s mother told him he had a crush.
Which was a terrible, terrible thing. Because Draco was eleven, but not stupid, and knew that boys were supposed to like girls. Right?
If that was true, then why couldn’t he get this kids out of his mind. They had simply had a five-minute conversation.
Actually, now that Draco thought of it, he had done most of the talking.
How embarrassing. He could be such a git sometimes.
He sank lower in the warm bath water, ignoring the heat pulsing from his lower body. If he waited, it would go away.
Maybe.
+
A month later, conscious thoughts had strayed from the boy in the robe shop, but his dreams didn’t.
The night before the Hogwarts Express, he had another dream about the nameless boy. They held hands. It was scary and wonderful.
He woke up with a weird excitement, among several excitements. He was going to Hogwarts. He was going to be in Slytherin. He was going to see that boy.
Draco stood in his robes with his arms out as his mother preformed weird combinations of cleaning charms. She told him he looked spectacular. He knew that, thank you very much.
+
Once on the train, murmurs of “Harry Potter”, “the boy who lived” and “is it really fucking him?!” filled the air.
Draco wanted to see this Harry Potter. All thoughts of the boy in the shop left his mind.
He walked, with friends (just in case) down to the back of the train, where he was rumored to be sitting.
He threw the car door open, and saw the scrawny boy from the robe shop.
It was like he fell off his broomstick. He held out his hand for shaking, but Harry refused.
Draco was angry, and needed a bath.
Author: Hanschen Rilow
Challenge: bath
Word: 100 x 4
Pairing: hpdm
Author's notes: cussing, erections
Disclaiming: I own only the plot
Draco was eleven years old.
And being eleven brought it’s own peculiar additions to life.
First, he was experience unexplainable swellings of his groin, followed by an itch to touch himself.
Draco was sure the world was ending as he knew it.
He sat in the bath his mother had drawn him, looking at his erection sadly.
He wondered if this was in any way related to the boy he met Madam Malkin’s Robes that morning. When the little, raven-haired kid, came near, he felt his knees go weak, and his stomach turn. He wanted to touch him.
Life sucked.
+
Draco’s mother told him he had a crush.
Which was a terrible, terrible thing. Because Draco was eleven, but not stupid, and knew that boys were supposed to like girls. Right?
If that was true, then why couldn’t he get this kids out of his mind. They had simply had a five-minute conversation.
Actually, now that Draco thought of it, he had done most of the talking.
How embarrassing. He could be such a git sometimes.
He sank lower in the warm bath water, ignoring the heat pulsing from his lower body. If he waited, it would go away.
Maybe.
+
A month later, conscious thoughts had strayed from the boy in the robe shop, but his dreams didn’t.
The night before the Hogwarts Express, he had another dream about the nameless boy. They held hands. It was scary and wonderful.
He woke up with a weird excitement, among several excitements. He was going to Hogwarts. He was going to be in Slytherin. He was going to see that boy.
Draco stood in his robes with his arms out as his mother preformed weird combinations of cleaning charms. She told him he looked spectacular. He knew that, thank you very much.
+
Once on the train, murmurs of “Harry Potter”, “the boy who lived” and “is it really fucking him?!” filled the air.
Draco wanted to see this Harry Potter. All thoughts of the boy in the shop left his mind.
He walked, with friends (just in case) down to the back of the train, where he was rumored to be sitting.
He threw the car door open, and saw the scrawny boy from the robe shop.
It was like he fell off his broomstick. He held out his hand for shaking, but Harry refused.
Draco was angry, and needed a bath.