Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,017
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, as always, for the wonderful feedback. And once again, I apologize for the long wait. My life is still a bit hectic.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Ten
Harry had been very soothed by Malfoy's presence Tuesday night after he'd had that little row with Ron and Hermione. Malfoy had opened up a bit more, telling him more in detail about how bad sixth year had been, and Harry had very nearly forgotten his problems by the time four o'clock had rolled around. Indeed, he hadn't even noticed they'd been there for so long. Malfoy had spent a lot of time describing a particularly long month when he'd gone without eating for twenty of the thirty-one days and described his introduction to dry-heaving. It was that experience that had pushed him back into the habit of eating-and-purging more often than simply not eating. Harry had been horrified. He'd said nothing.
They'd seen each other Wednesday and were planning on meeting again tonight, but not at one o'clock like usual. Malfoy had asked Harry if he wouldn't mind going earlier, though he wouldn't tell Harry why. Harry hadn't pushed much; after all, he was getting enough information out of Malfoy as it was.
It was the thought of seeing Malfoy in an hour's time that had Harry smiling unconsciously as he, Anthony, Ron, and Hermione left dinner.
"Ron and I are going to the library," Hermione told them, taking Ron's hand and dragging him toward the stairs. She and Ron had mostly let the fight go. They hadn't mentioned it other than Hermione telling Harry that he could do what he wanted, and that they weren't upset, just confused and a little anxious about it. Harry had told her (and he assumed she'd told Ron) that he understood, but he didn't care, that he was still going to do this.
He thought Ron or Hermione must have said something to Anthony, as well, because he'd been a bit standoffish all day.
"All right, see you later," Harry said as they walked away. He felt Anthony grab his hand and begin leading him toward the stairs as well, though at a much slower pace. Students rushed around them and Harry found himself looking for Malfoy. He didn't find him.
"So, Harry," said Anthony, and Harry knew exactly where this was going. He sighed, not bothering to hide it. Anthony raised a brow. "I take it you know what I'm going to say?"
"What did Ron and Hermione say to you?"
Anthony pursed his lips in thought for a moment before saying, "Hermione told me you'd decided to take on Malfoy as a project."
Harry's face scrunched up in quite apparent disgust. Anthony must have noticed because he blushed.
"He's not a project."
"I'm sorry," Anthony said, looking truly apologetic. "I just don't understand. What made you want to do that?"
Harry shrugged, not entirely placated by Anthony's apology. "He needs help."
"Yes, but since when do you care about helping Malfoy?"
"God, I don't know, Anthony," Harry whined. He was already tired of this and it had only happened once with Ron and Hermione. Was this what it was going to be like? Interrogations from his friends and his boyfriend every day about what he was doing with Malfoy? Why he was helping him? "It just sort of happened. I ran into him in the Owlery and he just looked really . . . helpless, I don't know. I just felt like I should help him."
Anthony seemed to mull this over for a moment. "And he wants your help?"
Harry peered down at him and stopped them from walking. Was that accusation in his voice? He certainly hoped not, because if Anthony was about to imply that Harry might be cheating on him he was not going to be happy.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Anthony's eyebrows rose beneath his hairline. "Exactly what I said. Is there a double-entendre that I'm missing?"
"I don't even know what that means." Never before had Harry found Anthony's vocabulary pretentious or annoying, but he did now. He felt like Anthony was purposely trying to make him look bad. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't true, but that part of his mind was stored safely away at the moment.
"Is there something going on between you two?" The way he said it made it sound like he'd been wondering, but not expected it to be true. Like he'd planned on asking Harry only to have Harry laugh it off as ridiculous. Harry slipped his hand out of Anthony's and looked at him with his eyebrows drawn.
"Are you joking?"
"I don't know, Harry, should I be? I mean, a couple of days ago you were telling me you loved me after we had sex and now Ron and Hermione are coming to me with the news that you're sneaking off every night to meet with Malfoy. What am I supposed to think?"
"Exactly what I told you!" Harry was very aware that he was losing his temper. And he had never lost his temper around Anthony before. He'd never had reason. Of course, they'd never argued about Malfoy before, and somehow Harry always lost his mind when Malfoy was involved. "I'm helping him! Why does that have to mean anything's going on between us?"
"I never said it did," Anthony said quietly, dangerously. It didn't scare Harry, however, only made him angrier. "All I asked was why he wanted your help and suddenly you're acting like I've accused you of any number of things!"
"What things?!"
"I don't know, Harry, why don't you tell me!"
Harry had never lost his temper around Anthony, and he'd never seen Anthony lose his either.
"There's nothing going on between us!" Harry shouted, and though he didn't recognize it consciously, he was trying to convince himself of this fact just as much as Anthony. Had he thought about it, he would have realized why he was getting so angry. But he didn't think about it. Because he didn't want to think about it.
"Then why are you yelling at me?!"
"Because you're accusing me of something I didn't do!"
"I'm not accusing you of anything, Harry!" Anthony was red in the face and breathing heavily. Harry thought he probably looked similar. "I asked you a question and you blew up in my face!"
Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This was getting him nowhere and it was stupid. He heard Anthony sigh.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you're . . . doing anything behind my back. I was just confused, all right? Can we just . . . let it go? You're helping Malfoy, fine, okay. That's very kind of you. Now I know why you've been disappearing and you know that I trust you. Can we stop fighting?"
Harry opened his eyes and stared at Anthony, the very picture of a perfect boyfriend, and felt his stomach tighten. This was a shallow truce at best, but he took it.
"Fine," he said, and then sighed. "Yes. Yeah. Okay. I mean, I'm sorry, too." Anthony smiled softly at him and placed a kiss on his lips that didn't give Harry butterflies like it once had.
"Good. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Hermione wanted to discuss some last-minute details about Ron's party, as well." Harry nodded and kissed Anthony again. They walked together up to the seventh floor where they parted ways, sharing one last goodnight kiss. Harry didn't go to Gryffindor Tower, though. Instead, he turned right back around and headed in the direction of the Prefects' bathroom.
* * *
Draco was incredibly nervous to see Harry. Potter. He was nervous to see Potter. Because Potter had, in so many words, told Draco during that lunch hour on Tuesday that he could see what "those other guys" had seen. And Draco still couldn't get over it, even though he'd seen Potter again last night. But what did that even mean? Did he find Draco attractive? Did he like him? Surely not. He had a boyfriend! And Potter was nothing if not loyal.
But still. He had said . . . what he'd said.
He was glad to hear the door opening behind him and Potter stepping inside. He didn't feel like dwelling on this train of thought anymore. He'd much rather just be in Potter's presence and enjoy it.
When he turned to look at him, though, Draco recoiled. Potter looked upset.
"Are you okay?" he asked, astounded by how worried he actually felt. Potter sighed and removed his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand.
"Yeah. No, I'm fine." He put his glasses back on and when he looked at Draco he smiled. Draco's stomach felt warm and tingly and he blushed. "How are you?" Draco merely shrugged. He hadn't eaten today and he could feel the hunger pains kicking in. "Quidditch is kicking my arse this year." Harry sat down on the bench and began kneading his upper arm. "I've never been this sore from it."
Draco flushed more fiercely than before at the thought of Potter's wonderful biceps. He sat down where he was on the floor and fidgeted with his fingers. Merlin help him, he was nervous!
"It's not been as fun playing Slytherin, you know, without you on the team."
Draco looked up and met Potter's eyes. He was smiling impishly.
"Yeah, well . . . I wasn't really up for Quidditch this year."
Potter stood up then and walked past Draco to the tub, where he turned on the water and a few of the bubble taps. Draco watched with increasing fascination as Potter stripped off his shirt and denims and sat on the side of the tub to wait until it filled.
They were both silent for the next ten minutes until Potter carefully slid into the tub and turned to face Draco, an adorable smile playing on his lips.
"Potter," Draco said slowly.
"Hm?"
"Why did you find me during lunch on Tuesday?"
Potter's face darkened for a moment before he plastered a cheeky grin there instead.
"I don't know . . . I kinda like spending time with you lately, I guess." He waded over to the edge of the tub where Draco was sitting and looked up at him. Draco tried desperately to keep his breathing under control, but having a half-naked, wet Harry Potter this close made that difficult.
"This is insane, do you know that?"
Potter laughed. "Yeah, I know. But when was anything between us ever normal?"
Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Never. And it probably never will be." He swallowed thickly. "This is just temporary, remember? You're . . . helping me."
He didn't mean that, of course. He just wanted to know what Potter would have to say to that. He was pleased when he saw the smile fade from his face.
"Has talking helped?" he asked softly, evading the topic fairly well, in Draco's opinion. He would have preferred it if Potter had insisted this wasn't only about "helping" him, but the hurt look on his face would have to do. Plus, he had to be avoiding it for a reason.
Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter that sure, talking had helped, even if it hadn't done much other than give him too many reasons to have become obsessed with Potter.
A loud grumble from his stomach cut him off, though. Potter looked at Draco's stomach while Draco flushed violently and wrapped his arms around himself.
"Sorry," he whispered. Potter only sighed. Draco was taken by surprise when he felt a cold, wet hand grab his arm and yank it away from his body. He wasn't given much time to contemplate what Potter was doing because soon he was being tugged into the tub and the next thing he knew he was breaking the surface of the water, spluttering and pushing his hair out of his eyes.
"POTTER!"
Potter was laughing and Draco was furious. God, he must look atrocious!
"I can't believe you!" he shouted, wading toward the edge of the tub. "I look . . . I look even worse than usual!" He'd meant that half-sarcastically, but he really did believe that, and he couldn't help saying it aloud. At least then Potter would know that Draco knew how horrible he looked.
Before he could pull himself out of the tub the same hand from before grabbed his arm and spun him around, and then suddenly Potter had him pushed up against the wall of the tub. He looked upset. Draco was having a difficult time catching his breath.
"What are you talking about, you look worse than usual?"
Draco determinedly stared back at Potter, trying to express his anger and failing because he was less angry than he was incredibly turned on and embarrassed.
"You don't think you're ugly too?" he whispered, and he looked genuinely shocked. Draco swallowed and looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "Malfoy, I know you think you're fat, but . . . Jesus Christ . . ."
And then suddenly Draco wasn't looking at the water anymore. He was looking at a very distorted version of Potter's face, and he had to be dreaming or something because there was just no way Potter was kissing him.
But then Potter's mouth opened slowly and he both heard and felt him take a shaky breath before kissing Draco again. And the only thing Draco could possibly do was let his eyes slip closed and smile like a goof because Oh my God, Potter was really kissing him and it was absolutely perfect. His bare chest was heaving against Draco's wet-cloth covered one and his hands had made their way onto Draco's waist and Draco could have sworn he felt the other boy trembling and even if he'd been ready for it he wouldn't have been able to stifle the small whimper that escaped when Potter bit down gently on his lower lip.
Potter must have heard it because he laughed breathlessly and kissed him once more before pulling away and looking into Draco's eyes. He ran his thumb over Draco's lower lip and smiled.
"You're beautiful," he said softly.
All the blood in Draco's body was currently occupying either his cheeks or his cock, and he must have had a lot of blood because he was sure his face was bright red and he was definitely harder than he could remember being in a long time.
He wished he could think of something to say, but nothing sounded right. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to form words.
Merlin, when had he fallen so hard for this boy?
Potter had placed his hands back on Draco's waist and his thumbs had slipped under the shirt. He was absently rubbing circles onto Draco's hip bones. Draco felt very short of breath.
"Potter . . ." he said, trying to call his attention to the fact that this was extremely intimate, and Draco wasn't sure Potter realized he was doing it. He didn't want him to stop, of course, but neither did he want to be left hard and wanting only for Potter to suddenly come to and run away.
He finally did snap out of his intent stare at Draco's collarbone, but he didn't run. He smiled softly.
"Will you start trying?"
"W-what?"
Potter leaned in and kissed him again very gently, lingering for a moment. Draco rather felt like he'd taken all of Draco's breath with him when he pulled away.
"I know I have a boyfriend, and I know we were . . . sworn enemies or something, but for some reason I care, Malfoy. Maybe it's just that I can't stand to see someone so gorgeous-" and here he pinked but didn't look away, "-calling themselves fat and ugly. I don't know. But I really want you to start trying." Draco opened his mouth to say something but Potter cut him off. "You don't have to eat three meals a day," he said quickly. "Just . . . start off small. Have a piece of toast at breakfast or something and don't puke it up." He stared into Draco's eyes and his grip on Draco's waist tightened. "I'm really gonna help you. I want to. And . . ." He stopped and looked down, seemingly unsure about something. Draco's heart was pounding a mile a minute. When he looked back up he appeared conflicted and yet resolute at the same time. "Do you hate me for kissing you?" he whispered.
Well, that hadn't been what Draco had expected. He nearly laughed.
"No." Potter smiled like a child who'd been presented with a thousand gifts for Christmas. Draco gripped his arms and pulled them off his hips, only to wrap them entirely around his small waist. Potter looked incredulously into his eyes and Draco smiled. "But what about-"
"Anthony doesn't have to know," Potter said breathlessly. And then Draco did one of the bravest things he thought he'd ever done in his life: he leaned forward and kissed Potter again. It was soft and sweet and unhurried and it felt nothing like a forbidden kiss should feel.
"Okay," he said after a moment. Potter opened his eyes and backed away a few centimeters.
"Okay what?"
"I'll really try." And he meant it. For some inglorious reason, he meant it. Potter must have seen this because he grinned maniacally and kissed Draco's cheek. "And to this." He lifted his arms out of the water and hugged Potter around his neck. In return Potter squeezed his waist tightly and pressed their cheeks together.
"You don't care that no one can know?" he whispered against Draco's ear.
Draco bit his lip, contemplating what to say. He knew what Potter meant: that no one could know they were secretly snogging in the Prefects' bathroom.
Of course he cared, but he also knew there was no way around that if he wanted to continue being kissed like that. So he shook his head.
"I don't care."
Chapter Nine | Page of Contents | Chapter Eleven
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,017
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, as always, for the wonderful feedback. And once again, I apologize for the long wait. My life is still a bit hectic.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Ten
Harry had been very soothed by Malfoy's presence Tuesday night after he'd had that little row with Ron and Hermione. Malfoy had opened up a bit more, telling him more in detail about how bad sixth year had been, and Harry had very nearly forgotten his problems by the time four o'clock had rolled around. Indeed, he hadn't even noticed they'd been there for so long. Malfoy had spent a lot of time describing a particularly long month when he'd gone without eating for twenty of the thirty-one days and described his introduction to dry-heaving. It was that experience that had pushed him back into the habit of eating-and-purging more often than simply not eating. Harry had been horrified. He'd said nothing.
They'd seen each other Wednesday and were planning on meeting again tonight, but not at one o'clock like usual. Malfoy had asked Harry if he wouldn't mind going earlier, though he wouldn't tell Harry why. Harry hadn't pushed much; after all, he was getting enough information out of Malfoy as it was.
It was the thought of seeing Malfoy in an hour's time that had Harry smiling unconsciously as he, Anthony, Ron, and Hermione left dinner.
"Ron and I are going to the library," Hermione told them, taking Ron's hand and dragging him toward the stairs. She and Ron had mostly let the fight go. They hadn't mentioned it other than Hermione telling Harry that he could do what he wanted, and that they weren't upset, just confused and a little anxious about it. Harry had told her (and he assumed she'd told Ron) that he understood, but he didn't care, that he was still going to do this.
He thought Ron or Hermione must have said something to Anthony, as well, because he'd been a bit standoffish all day.
"All right, see you later," Harry said as they walked away. He felt Anthony grab his hand and begin leading him toward the stairs as well, though at a much slower pace. Students rushed around them and Harry found himself looking for Malfoy. He didn't find him.
"So, Harry," said Anthony, and Harry knew exactly where this was going. He sighed, not bothering to hide it. Anthony raised a brow. "I take it you know what I'm going to say?"
"What did Ron and Hermione say to you?"
Anthony pursed his lips in thought for a moment before saying, "Hermione told me you'd decided to take on Malfoy as a project."
Harry's face scrunched up in quite apparent disgust. Anthony must have noticed because he blushed.
"He's not a project."
"I'm sorry," Anthony said, looking truly apologetic. "I just don't understand. What made you want to do that?"
Harry shrugged, not entirely placated by Anthony's apology. "He needs help."
"Yes, but since when do you care about helping Malfoy?"
"God, I don't know, Anthony," Harry whined. He was already tired of this and it had only happened once with Ron and Hermione. Was this what it was going to be like? Interrogations from his friends and his boyfriend every day about what he was doing with Malfoy? Why he was helping him? "It just sort of happened. I ran into him in the Owlery and he just looked really . . . helpless, I don't know. I just felt like I should help him."
Anthony seemed to mull this over for a moment. "And he wants your help?"
Harry peered down at him and stopped them from walking. Was that accusation in his voice? He certainly hoped not, because if Anthony was about to imply that Harry might be cheating on him he was not going to be happy.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Anthony's eyebrows rose beneath his hairline. "Exactly what I said. Is there a double-entendre that I'm missing?"
"I don't even know what that means." Never before had Harry found Anthony's vocabulary pretentious or annoying, but he did now. He felt like Anthony was purposely trying to make him look bad. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't true, but that part of his mind was stored safely away at the moment.
"Is there something going on between you two?" The way he said it made it sound like he'd been wondering, but not expected it to be true. Like he'd planned on asking Harry only to have Harry laugh it off as ridiculous. Harry slipped his hand out of Anthony's and looked at him with his eyebrows drawn.
"Are you joking?"
"I don't know, Harry, should I be? I mean, a couple of days ago you were telling me you loved me after we had sex and now Ron and Hermione are coming to me with the news that you're sneaking off every night to meet with Malfoy. What am I supposed to think?"
"Exactly what I told you!" Harry was very aware that he was losing his temper. And he had never lost his temper around Anthony before. He'd never had reason. Of course, they'd never argued about Malfoy before, and somehow Harry always lost his mind when Malfoy was involved. "I'm helping him! Why does that have to mean anything's going on between us?"
"I never said it did," Anthony said quietly, dangerously. It didn't scare Harry, however, only made him angrier. "All I asked was why he wanted your help and suddenly you're acting like I've accused you of any number of things!"
"What things?!"
"I don't know, Harry, why don't you tell me!"
Harry had never lost his temper around Anthony, and he'd never seen Anthony lose his either.
"There's nothing going on between us!" Harry shouted, and though he didn't recognize it consciously, he was trying to convince himself of this fact just as much as Anthony. Had he thought about it, he would have realized why he was getting so angry. But he didn't think about it. Because he didn't want to think about it.
"Then why are you yelling at me?!"
"Because you're accusing me of something I didn't do!"
"I'm not accusing you of anything, Harry!" Anthony was red in the face and breathing heavily. Harry thought he probably looked similar. "I asked you a question and you blew up in my face!"
Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This was getting him nowhere and it was stupid. He heard Anthony sigh.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you're . . . doing anything behind my back. I was just confused, all right? Can we just . . . let it go? You're helping Malfoy, fine, okay. That's very kind of you. Now I know why you've been disappearing and you know that I trust you. Can we stop fighting?"
Harry opened his eyes and stared at Anthony, the very picture of a perfect boyfriend, and felt his stomach tighten. This was a shallow truce at best, but he took it.
"Fine," he said, and then sighed. "Yes. Yeah. Okay. I mean, I'm sorry, too." Anthony smiled softly at him and placed a kiss on his lips that didn't give Harry butterflies like it once had.
"Good. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Hermione wanted to discuss some last-minute details about Ron's party, as well." Harry nodded and kissed Anthony again. They walked together up to the seventh floor where they parted ways, sharing one last goodnight kiss. Harry didn't go to Gryffindor Tower, though. Instead, he turned right back around and headed in the direction of the Prefects' bathroom.
* * *
Draco was incredibly nervous to see Harry. Potter. He was nervous to see Potter. Because Potter had, in so many words, told Draco during that lunch hour on Tuesday that he could see what "those other guys" had seen. And Draco still couldn't get over it, even though he'd seen Potter again last night. But what did that even mean? Did he find Draco attractive? Did he like him? Surely not. He had a boyfriend! And Potter was nothing if not loyal.
But still. He had said . . . what he'd said.
He was glad to hear the door opening behind him and Potter stepping inside. He didn't feel like dwelling on this train of thought anymore. He'd much rather just be in Potter's presence and enjoy it.
When he turned to look at him, though, Draco recoiled. Potter looked upset.
"Are you okay?" he asked, astounded by how worried he actually felt. Potter sighed and removed his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand.
"Yeah. No, I'm fine." He put his glasses back on and when he looked at Draco he smiled. Draco's stomach felt warm and tingly and he blushed. "How are you?" Draco merely shrugged. He hadn't eaten today and he could feel the hunger pains kicking in. "Quidditch is kicking my arse this year." Harry sat down on the bench and began kneading his upper arm. "I've never been this sore from it."
Draco flushed more fiercely than before at the thought of Potter's wonderful biceps. He sat down where he was on the floor and fidgeted with his fingers. Merlin help him, he was nervous!
"It's not been as fun playing Slytherin, you know, without you on the team."
Draco looked up and met Potter's eyes. He was smiling impishly.
"Yeah, well . . . I wasn't really up for Quidditch this year."
Potter stood up then and walked past Draco to the tub, where he turned on the water and a few of the bubble taps. Draco watched with increasing fascination as Potter stripped off his shirt and denims and sat on the side of the tub to wait until it filled.
They were both silent for the next ten minutes until Potter carefully slid into the tub and turned to face Draco, an adorable smile playing on his lips.
"Potter," Draco said slowly.
"Hm?"
"Why did you find me during lunch on Tuesday?"
Potter's face darkened for a moment before he plastered a cheeky grin there instead.
"I don't know . . . I kinda like spending time with you lately, I guess." He waded over to the edge of the tub where Draco was sitting and looked up at him. Draco tried desperately to keep his breathing under control, but having a half-naked, wet Harry Potter this close made that difficult.
"This is insane, do you know that?"
Potter laughed. "Yeah, I know. But when was anything between us ever normal?"
Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Never. And it probably never will be." He swallowed thickly. "This is just temporary, remember? You're . . . helping me."
He didn't mean that, of course. He just wanted to know what Potter would have to say to that. He was pleased when he saw the smile fade from his face.
"Has talking helped?" he asked softly, evading the topic fairly well, in Draco's opinion. He would have preferred it if Potter had insisted this wasn't only about "helping" him, but the hurt look on his face would have to do. Plus, he had to be avoiding it for a reason.
Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter that sure, talking had helped, even if it hadn't done much other than give him too many reasons to have become obsessed with Potter.
A loud grumble from his stomach cut him off, though. Potter looked at Draco's stomach while Draco flushed violently and wrapped his arms around himself.
"Sorry," he whispered. Potter only sighed. Draco was taken by surprise when he felt a cold, wet hand grab his arm and yank it away from his body. He wasn't given much time to contemplate what Potter was doing because soon he was being tugged into the tub and the next thing he knew he was breaking the surface of the water, spluttering and pushing his hair out of his eyes.
"POTTER!"
Potter was laughing and Draco was furious. God, he must look atrocious!
"I can't believe you!" he shouted, wading toward the edge of the tub. "I look . . . I look even worse than usual!" He'd meant that half-sarcastically, but he really did believe that, and he couldn't help saying it aloud. At least then Potter would know that Draco knew how horrible he looked.
Before he could pull himself out of the tub the same hand from before grabbed his arm and spun him around, and then suddenly Potter had him pushed up against the wall of the tub. He looked upset. Draco was having a difficult time catching his breath.
"What are you talking about, you look worse than usual?"
Draco determinedly stared back at Potter, trying to express his anger and failing because he was less angry than he was incredibly turned on and embarrassed.
"You don't think you're ugly too?" he whispered, and he looked genuinely shocked. Draco swallowed and looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "Malfoy, I know you think you're fat, but . . . Jesus Christ . . ."
And then suddenly Draco wasn't looking at the water anymore. He was looking at a very distorted version of Potter's face, and he had to be dreaming or something because there was just no way Potter was kissing him.
But then Potter's mouth opened slowly and he both heard and felt him take a shaky breath before kissing Draco again. And the only thing Draco could possibly do was let his eyes slip closed and smile like a goof because Oh my God, Potter was really kissing him and it was absolutely perfect. His bare chest was heaving against Draco's wet-cloth covered one and his hands had made their way onto Draco's waist and Draco could have sworn he felt the other boy trembling and even if he'd been ready for it he wouldn't have been able to stifle the small whimper that escaped when Potter bit down gently on his lower lip.
Potter must have heard it because he laughed breathlessly and kissed him once more before pulling away and looking into Draco's eyes. He ran his thumb over Draco's lower lip and smiled.
"You're beautiful," he said softly.
All the blood in Draco's body was currently occupying either his cheeks or his cock, and he must have had a lot of blood because he was sure his face was bright red and he was definitely harder than he could remember being in a long time.
He wished he could think of something to say, but nothing sounded right. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to form words.
Merlin, when had he fallen so hard for this boy?
Potter had placed his hands back on Draco's waist and his thumbs had slipped under the shirt. He was absently rubbing circles onto Draco's hip bones. Draco felt very short of breath.
"Potter . . ." he said, trying to call his attention to the fact that this was extremely intimate, and Draco wasn't sure Potter realized he was doing it. He didn't want him to stop, of course, but neither did he want to be left hard and wanting only for Potter to suddenly come to and run away.
He finally did snap out of his intent stare at Draco's collarbone, but he didn't run. He smiled softly.
"Will you start trying?"
"W-what?"
Potter leaned in and kissed him again very gently, lingering for a moment. Draco rather felt like he'd taken all of Draco's breath with him when he pulled away.
"I know I have a boyfriend, and I know we were . . . sworn enemies or something, but for some reason I care, Malfoy. Maybe it's just that I can't stand to see someone so gorgeous-" and here he pinked but didn't look away, "-calling themselves fat and ugly. I don't know. But I really want you to start trying." Draco opened his mouth to say something but Potter cut him off. "You don't have to eat three meals a day," he said quickly. "Just . . . start off small. Have a piece of toast at breakfast or something and don't puke it up." He stared into Draco's eyes and his grip on Draco's waist tightened. "I'm really gonna help you. I want to. And . . ." He stopped and looked down, seemingly unsure about something. Draco's heart was pounding a mile a minute. When he looked back up he appeared conflicted and yet resolute at the same time. "Do you hate me for kissing you?" he whispered.
Well, that hadn't been what Draco had expected. He nearly laughed.
"No." Potter smiled like a child who'd been presented with a thousand gifts for Christmas. Draco gripped his arms and pulled them off his hips, only to wrap them entirely around his small waist. Potter looked incredulously into his eyes and Draco smiled. "But what about-"
"Anthony doesn't have to know," Potter said breathlessly. And then Draco did one of the bravest things he thought he'd ever done in his life: he leaned forward and kissed Potter again. It was soft and sweet and unhurried and it felt nothing like a forbidden kiss should feel.
"Okay," he said after a moment. Potter opened his eyes and backed away a few centimeters.
"Okay what?"
"I'll really try." And he meant it. For some inglorious reason, he meant it. Potter must have seen this because he grinned maniacally and kissed Draco's cheek. "And to this." He lifted his arms out of the water and hugged Potter around his neck. In return Potter squeezed his waist tightly and pressed their cheeks together.
"You don't care that no one can know?" he whispered against Draco's ear.
Draco bit his lip, contemplating what to say. He knew what Potter meant: that no one could know they were secretly snogging in the Prefects' bathroom.
Of course he cared, but he also knew there was no way around that if he wanted to continue being kissed like that. So he shook his head.
"I don't care."
Chapter Nine | Page of Contents | Chapter Eleven