fic: addiction
Title: Addiction
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: Hard R/Soft NC-17
Word count: 6812 or so
Summary: It's only when Draco tries to get rid of his own addiction that Harry realises that he has his own. (Note: Not a drug addiction.)
Notes: Please tell me if there are any mistakes. For lunadragon at hds-beltane.
Harry Potter frowned in the middle of Potions. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, for some strange reason. He rubbed the back of his neck and tore himself away from the Half-Blood Prince's interpretation of the ingredients and glanced around. Most of the rest of the class were busy with their own potions, a couple glancing around anxiously as their cauldrons simmered. Scanning the room discreetly from right to left, Harry's eyes met with a pair he hadn't expected to meet: Draco Malfoy's.
As soon as they met, the grey eyes jerked away from their contact. Harry frowned again, as he momentarily watched Malfoy flip through the pages in his book, before starting to chop his daisy roots. Malfoy had been watching him; that had been his odd feeling. Malfoy was always doing something slightly odd though, so Harry didn't pay all too much attention to the other boy, and concentrated on his ashwinder eggs. Even with the help of the Half-Blood Prince, Potions was still a complicated subject; the book couldn't help him cut more precisely or measure out liquids.
It wasn't until Slughorn's last round through the classroom that Harry noticed that watched feeling again. He glanced straight at Malfoy this time, and sure enough, half-lidded grey eyes were staring at him. The eyes narrowed even more, transforming the face into a look of anger, before the blond head turned sharply away. Harry bit his lip. Perhaps Malfoy was up to something? Even more than he was usually, obviously, since Harry already suspected that Malfoy was up to something this year. He followed the other boy's movements for a bit, but shrugged it off; he'd have to find out what was going on later.
Perhaps it was a side effect of brewing a potion which smelled like Muggle cherry bubblegum, but Harry was somehow more enthusiastic about dinner than usual. Helping himself to the steaming Yorkshire pudding, the boy looked up, replying to something Ron said about their next Quidditch game. His eyes slid sideways and locked onto a blond head directly opposite him, across the entire width of the room. Once again, Malfoy was watching him, turning away as soon as he was noticed. It was definitely not coincidental, he decided, that Malfoy just happened to be sitting directly opposite him, despite there being the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables between them. He devoured his pudding and decided to grab his map and stalk Malfoy out later for a little interrogation.
Poring over the map in his bedroom, Harry scowled at the little moving dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. He'd checked on it between writing a Potions essay for Slughorn and learning human Transfiguration, and the boy had spent his entire time thus far in his dorm. He'd catch him after a lesson, perhaps. Until then, he'd just have to be aware for any hexes coming his way, or odd parcels, because Malfoy was definitely plotting something; he was just hoping to cut it off before it actually happened.
Infuriatingly, there was no chance to corner Malfoy. True to his Slytherin loyalties, he seemed to slither his way out of every opportunity Harry had, losing himself in a crowd of people. Even more infuriatingly was that the stares had carried on. Every lesson they had together, Harry would look up to see Malfoy looking at him oddly, and every time, he would give Harry an angry glare or a dark flush before looking away. Sometimes it happened at meals too. Harry had tried to take a seat facing the wall so that he wouldn't have to see Malfoy blatantly staring at him, but the itchy feeling of knowing that Malfoy was staring at his back annoyed him too, so he had gone back to getting a seat which faced the other boy. At least it meant that he knew when he was being watched.
* * *
He couldn't stand much more of this. If Harry didn't corner Malfoy soon, he was just going to jump on him in class and whack his bloody blond head against a desk until the other boy just told him everything. Therefore, it was extremely lucky that Harry spied a certain blond head walking down an unfamiliar dungeon corridor directly after Potions. Deciding on a run instead of stealthily creeping up (it was almost impossible to creep anywhere in the echo-filled, stone corridors of the dungeons), Harry flung his full body weight onto one startled blond and dragged him into the nearest empty classroom, shutting the door firmly behind them.
"Potter!" Malfoy coughed, waving his hand through the accumulated dust in here, thick and only disturbed by their arrival. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Harry snorted. "What am I doing?! What're you doing, Malfoy?! Watching me all the time. Spying on me? Trying to observe my actions and discover my weak spot?" He stood with his wand ready, just in case, back to the door so that the other boy wouldn't be able to get past him.
The Slytherin flushed and opened his mouth to start to say something. He stopped through the first syllable, shook his head and snorted. He was still flushing, but it was angry. "I'm not doing anything. It's a free world, isn't it? I can still look at The Chosen One if I particularly want to, right?" He wasn't looking at Harry now though.
Harry blinked. Did the Slytherin honestly think that no one would notice anything abnormal about his behaviour?! "Since when have you taken to watching me all the damn time?! I don't think I can go to the toilet without you traipsing around after me!" He forgot that he was a wizard, with a wand at his disposal, even though his wand was still in his hand. He grabbed the Slytherin's shoulders and slammed him against a wall. Dust flew, and Draco grunted as he hit the rough stone wall.
"Why are you following me?!" Harry demanded. The other boy still refused to look at him, pink highlighting his cheekbones and ears. "Malfoy! Answer me, damn you!" Nothing, apart from the physical struggle to push Harry off.
"Don't touch me, don't," Draco's voice was shrill, a blend of angry and frantic. Was he scared that Harry was going to hurt him? Harry hoped so. "Get off me, Potter, don't touch me!" His voice was a bit feeble though, and he was a bad angle for shoving Harry off.
Harry moved his body even closer, using his body weight to keep Malfoy pinned to the wall. "Tell me what nasty little scheme you're plotting, Malfoy. Tell me before I punch your face in!" He wasn't a fighter, but he bet that he was much better at it than the Slytherin, who had probably only ever fought with a wand. He leaned his weight on threateningly. Perhaps he'd picked up more than just a few bruises from Dudley Dursley. Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, only looking up in a quick glance, before away again; that was odd, since Malfoy didn't seem to have a problem with looking at him the rest of the time.
Malfoy squirmed again, probably hoping to be able to shift himself out from under Harry, and Harry suddenly froze. When Malfoy had moved, he'd felt... something brush against his thigh. From the panicked look on Malfoy's face, he'd felt it too. He pushed away in revulsion. "MALFOY! What the... Just... WHAT THE HELL?!" He hollered, inhaling a large amount of dust. "That- you!" He flung himself at the door and barrelled through, the heavy door slamming behind him.
On the other side of the door, Draco Malfoy covered his face with his hands and slumped to the floor, erection ridiculously uncomfortable and equally unwanted. He shivered; little wonder he hadn't wanted Potter to touch him. Sometimes, the mere presence of the other boy set him off. He hated it.
Harry Potter was in shock. Of all nasty, evil, Death-Eater-ish things he had expected, he had not expected an erection stuck into his thigh. He shivered, and swallowed hard. At least he understood Malfoy's elaborate efforts at sneaking away now though. Malfoy fancied him. Good grief, just thinking the words made him shiver. Well, Harry would leave him to his staring across the Great Hall at dinnertime and his odd looks in lessons. Malfoy would get over it, and it wasn't as if it would be hard for Harry to just stay away from Malfoy until he did.
* * *
Draco Malfoy was starting to get more and more on Harry's nerves. It wasn't that he had been approached by the other boy; indeed, Malfoy seemed as eager to avoid Harry as Harry was to avoid him. It was that Harry knew Malfoy was constantly watching him, and now that Malfoy knew that Harry knew why, it seemed to have increased. It was supposed to stop; Malfoy was supposed to get over his little crush and then they could both get on with their lives, Harry not wasting his time turning around every time that paranoid feeling came up just in case it wasn't Malfoy, and Malfoy not wasting all his time watching Harry. It annoyed the Gryffindor.
There was just one thing which annoyed Harry more these days. It was that whenever he was in a crowd, walking through a jammed corridor, flooding towards the Quidditch pitch or anything else, there would be... touches. There would be a light pressure on his back; a sweep across his hip, a rub on his stomach, a flicker of fingers over his waist. Every time he turned around, no matter how quick he was, he never managed to catch the culprit. Not that he didn't know who said culprit was. Malfoy, obviously. There couldn't be anyone else.
Harry gritted his teeth as he felt a palm on his ribs and whipped around. No one, obviously. He would never have thought that it'd be so easy to hide that distinguishable hair, even if it was a crowded corridor with Fourth Years clamouring to get to lunch. Scowling ferociously at his bangers and mash which tasted absolutely wonderful, the boy knew that he'd have to do it again. He'd have to corner Draco Malfoy again. Perhaps threaten him this time. He was hardly going to just let himself be molested by his archrival who just happened to have a rather odd crush on him. Even Ginny hadn't ever resorted to groping him in the corridors.
* * *
Now Harry just had the rather hard tasks of, firstly, tracking Malfoy down, and secondly, forcing him to stop without going within two metres of the other boy. Feeling someone else's erection against your thigh... was far too odd.
That was the only reason Harry was staked out in an unfamiliar, dank dungeon corridor under his Invisibility Cloak with the Marauder's Map open before him. The flame from the torch on the wall made light flicker over his map, and squinted closer at the small dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. It was still before curfew, but the lack of light penetration into the dungeons made it seem later than it really was. Harry had been watching Malfoy on the map for a fair few days now, to see his habits. It would be no use standing for hours in the corridors if Malfoy was just going spend all evening inside, was it? Instead, he had noticed that Malfoy apparently liked the Prefects' Bathroom, and used it at almost the same time every day, for almost exactly the same amount of time. He'd come out soon, and Harry would be able to drag him into the unused classroom he'd already located (this time, getting rid of all dust).
Soft steps sounded, echoing slightly, and Harry muttered, "Mischief managed!" before tucking the map away, poised to take Malfoy out. As soon as the edging of black robes brushed past him, Harry snapped, "Stupefy!" He quickly reached out to catch Malfoy before the boy fell to the floor and split his head open or something, and hauled him into the secluded room. Bloody hell, he was heavy.
Tugging the body over towards the fire in the classroom that Harry had thoughtfully put in (it wasn't like it was difficult, and the dungeons did tend to be rather nippy), the boy suddenly mentally bashed his brain in for not thinking about levitating the other boy instead and rolled his eyes at himself. Dumping Malfoy near the fire (it was warmer), Harry muttered and concentrated, "Enervate."
The blond boy stirred and curled into a little ball as if he were asleep, before bolting upright. "Potter!" He scrambled to his feet, pulling his wand out. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"I thought we had this exact same debate last time," Harry said, somehow vaguely amused. "It's supposed to be my question. What on earth are you doing?"
There was a confused look across Malfoy's face for just a moment before it was quashed. "I'm being abducted in the freaking dungeons on my way to have a bath, apparently. Now you answer what you're doing." His wand hand was shaking. Harry's was not.
The Gryffindor frowned. "Malfoy. You can't seriously expect to just... touch me around school and I'm just going to stand there and let you make me your gropebag. So stop it." A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand from his suppressed emotion. Trying to not flying across the room and throttling Malfoy, that was.
Malfoy flushed, a warm pink sweeping across his cheeks and ears. "I- I..." He didn't really have much to stay. His wand arm slowly lowers and shakes much more violently now. "I can't help it." His swallow was audible, and Harry was fighting to not look away; he didn't want to see Draco Malfoy looking vulnerable and lost. It just wasn't an image he wanted to associate with the other boy. His eyes close, a slow sweep of white blond lashes, and Harry knew that he's just gathering himself together. He let him. The moment the soft lines on Malfoy's drained face harden, Harry knows that he's back, the Malfoy façade. He didn't quite know why he was watching the Slytherin so closely that he noticed the minimal change, or even how he knew that the change had occurred, but... somehow, he did.
"But you're going to stop it." It was a statement, a firm assertion.
Malfoy looked at him, but it wasn't his usual glare. It was colder, with less emotion than a glare. He crossed his arms, a poor substitute for hugging himself. "I'll do what I want, Potter." This translated into meaning that he won't. He can't, because he can't help himself. Harry knew that if Malfoy could stop himself, he damn well could.
"Malfoy," Harry couldn't stop the irritation from his voice. "You will stop it. Or I'm going to hex you into oblivion." The look on Malfoy's face indicates that he would quite happily take that. Harry ground his teeth. Sometimes, he hates using his wand. There's nothing which can quite replace a fist in someone's face, not that the Dursleys think that way. Harry pocketed his wand, fisted the front of Malfoy's robes and hoisted upwards so that the collar cut into his neck. One thing Harry had over Malfoy was actual experience of muggle fighting.
"MALFOY." The Gryffindor snapped, "Cut it out or I'm going to break your nose." At least something like this couldn't be traced back to his wand or anything. Malfoy clutched at his wrist, trying to not be choked. His breathing went completely haywire, his already fragile shield shattering.
When he spoke, Malfoy's voice was a bare whisper. "Potter. You're too close." He licked his lips nervously, looking at anywhere except directly at the boy in front of him. Harry could practically feel the heat radiating off the other boy, and felt a sick feeling at the bottom of his stomach; he wanted to back off rather desperately. This close to a... horny Draco Malfoy was enough to make anyone nauseous.
Since the other boy had gone redder than any normal person should be, Harry relaxed his grip. He didn't want to actually kill Malfoy, after all. The moment he did that, weight tumbled onto him. Harry spluttered, as his rival for the last five and a bit years crumpled onto him, arms wound tightly around his neck and his chest, hips, thighs, erection and all, all pressed firmly against Harry's body. He could feel the despair behind the death grip, the longing and absolute need of Malfoy. Malfoy made a small whimper against Harry's neck. It was almost as if Malfoy was a drug addict, desperate for just a bit more, and Harry was the drug. His insides squirmed at that thought. He was just about to try to pry the other boy off, but Malfoy slid off, embarrassment exuding from his whole body posture. Once again, he refused to look up at Harry. "That... won't happen again." The words drop reluctantly from his mouth in a harsh whisper. He really did hug himself this time, even though the fire that Harry had put in was still blazing strongly.
Harry backed off, eyes wide. He didn't think he had any words that could possibly put his feelings into coherent English. Malfoy shook his head, flicks of blond hair tumbling over his eyes. His voice hardened slightly, even though it was a feeble attempt. "It's just a crush, Potter. I'll get over it." His tone, facial expression never changed, but Harry could read Malfoy better than most; he had spent the better part of five years studying all he can of the other boy in order to gain one up over him. He could tell that Malfoy's demeanour is slowly cracking.
Harry snorted just a little. "You know, Malfoy. I'll make you a deal. If you stop molesting me in the corridor, I'll give you a hug or two every so often." At least then he'd know when it would be and how to deal with it.
He was right about Malfoy losing it; the boy let out a small sound which encompassed all the complex emotions behind his actions, anger, confusion, want, and possibly... just possibly, a sob. "I told you already! I can't... I can't help it!" Draco snapped, trembling all over. "It's not just about the- the physicality of a hug or two, you moron, don't you get that?!" He bolted out of the room, only struggling briefly with the heavy door and Harry let him. The Gryffindor stood there for a while before slowly traipsing back to his common room. He knew, wanted to deny it, but knew that... Malfoy was already a lost case. There was no point trying to ask Malfoy to stop. Perhaps he'd just hide himself away, but there was a small persistent thought at the back of his mind saying that if that happened, Malfoy would just stalk him down. Yeeah... perhaps not.
* * *
Lessons continued. Life in general continued. Malfoy molesting Harry continued. It happened so frequently that he got used to it... almost. There were certain touches which Harry couldn't get used to. Apparently, Malfoy was now bold enough to brush his groin. Harry endured it with gritted teeth, telling himself that he'd just hex Malfoy into oblivion once Malfoy got over the crush. It sure was damn hard walking around with half an erection though, and sometimes even harder to hide. Harry started wearing muggle jeans under his robes to help with that.
When it all suddenly stopped, Harry noticed immediately. Hardly a day went by with him feeling Malfoy's long fingers across at least one part of his body, and he had no idea how the other boy managed to conceal himself so well. However, two days had passed without a single incident. Two whole days. Perhaps, Harry thought, Malfoy had finally gotten over it. It felt odd to him though. He expected a touch so much that he missed it. It was something which had been surreptitiously added into his routine, and now, he was suddenly thrown.
Harry stretched himself across his Gryffindor bed and closed his eyes wearily, trying to sort himself out. Other people might call it meditation, or whatever, but to him, he just needed a bit of time to himself. It had been five days without a single hint of Malfoy anywhere near. Not even any stares across the classroom. And... Harry missed it. He admitted it to himself. He more than just simply missed it, actually. His body felt strangely bare, as if he had walked into a breeze and something has been taken away from him. This time, he knows that he's like the drug addict, and Malfoy is his drug. Harry swallowed.
In Potions the day after, Harry made a point of scrutinising Malfoy. People didn't just wake up and not have feelings for someone else all in one day; there hadn't been a slow decrease of Malfoy's attentions upon Harry, it had simply stopped one day. He was all too aware of the irony of this; he was now staring at Malfoy because the other boy had stopped staring at him. It was like a situation reversal. He caught Malfoy's eyes once, a locking of contact when they just happened to be turning their heads to face something else. But that something else remained unseen as they froze. Harry knew. He knew. Malfoy still lusted after him. The Slytherin hadn't gotten over anything. He could read it in those grey eyes. Eyes were windows to the soul, and Malfoy's windows were usually boarded up, but Harry had caught him with his shields down.
* * *
This would be the last time. Harry knew this too. This would be the last time he would have to prey on Malfoy in order to be able to speak with the other boy. It was amazing how the 'stupefy!' routine worked completely smoothly again. You'd have thought that Malfoy would have changed the times he went for his bath, but he was apparently a creature of habit, even though Harry captured him after his bath this time. "So," Harry started as soon as the blond head stirred, "why did you stop?"
Malfoy got up slowly, warily. There was a long pause. "Because I was sick of myself," he said flatly. "It was pathetic. So I stopped it." He looked pained, and not just pained from being Stupefied. He was also lying through his teeth. "I went... cold turkey." He looked so pale, so fragile, so... ready to be broken.
"...Cold turkey?" Harry looked Malfoy over, noticed his dishevelled state. "You look like you're going into withdrawal." Malfoy looked at him with disbelieving eyes. Bantering small talk, being so calm when he WAS going through bloody withdrawal! "You're not the only one suffering, you know," the Gryffindor continued. A small snort was heard from Malfoy's vicinity. "Ever had sex withdrawal?" He'd only figured it out a few days ago. When the body was used to getting regular pleasure and arousal, it yearned for more. Depriving it acted much like drug addiction on a smaller scale.
Striding over rapidly to the blond, Harry pushed his body against Malfoy's. "You know how unfair it is of you to make me aroused and then just leave me? How bloody annoying it is to be walking around with an erection?" His voice came out slightly lower than usual, and Malfoy shut his eyes at the pressure of the warm body on his. "Do you know how hard it is to act completely normal after you've had your little paws grabbing all over me?" He'd backed Malfoy into a desk and their pelvises ground together. Malfoy let out a small cry and clutched at Harry's robe to stop himself being forced to lean back any further.
Suddenly, Harry swooped forward, quickly sliding both arms around Malfoy, trapped him in a circle of his arms with a Parseltongue hiss. He saw Malfoy's eyes roll upwards before they fluttered closed. Lust was a wonderful thing sometimes. "How would you like it if I touched you all the time, and you couldn't do anything?" True to his words, Harry's hands started dragging over Draco's body, soft in some places, hard sometimes, gripping, pinching, rubbing. "Like this? You wanted this, right, Malfoy?" Malfoy crumpled back over the desk moaning, apparently very flexible, as Harry palmed him all over, mercilessly. His hands tried to fumble for something, but Harry slapped them away until Malfoy took the hint and just gripped the edge of the desk.
Harry's hands kneaded into Malfoy's soft side and he arched his back, unconsciously opening himself up to more. Harry pushed his hands under the boy's back, tracing the arched curve of his spine downwards, gripping his arse and squeezing it; even further downwards, Harry stroked Malfoy's thighs, teased the boy's erection through his robes. Not much time has passed at all, but Draco Malfoy was spread-eagled backwards over an old desk, writhing as Harry got his revenge for over a month of surreptitious groping. Harry lifted a knee and lifted himself into what little space there was left on the desk, circling an arm around Malfoy's shoulders to seat the boy back up.
It's a small desk; Draco ended up mostly seated on Harry's left thigh, one leg hanging off the edge of the desk, the other hooked over Harry's hip, shaking violently. Harry held him in a tight hug, crushingly tight, pressed the blond head to his chest until he felt the shudderings lesson, then eventually decrease into just a slight tremor. "Hey, Malfoy? You okay now?" There's a slight shift on his chest, which Harry presumed to be a nod, and he relaxed his comforting grip.
Draco looked calmer, less hysterical, but somehow lost. "Potter? I... didn't you..." His thoughts were obviously only now becoming coherent. "I said that this wouldn't happened again." It's not a question, but his confused tone makes it one.
A slightly twisted smile curved over Harry's lips. "Well. I didn't, did I?" His right hand touched the back of the Slytherin's head, picking up a lock of hair and letting it fall through his fingers. "I always thought it'd be a little greasy," he commented. Malfoy didn't move, like a hunted animal does when it doesn't want to attract attention, as if he froze, time would too, and nothing would go terribly wrong. "And I can tell you've never had an acne problem in your life," he added dryly, gently placing two fingertips on a pale cheek. Malfoy manages to look vaguely offended; of course he's never had an acne problem!
"You understand, don't you?" Harry's almost talking to himself; saying it out loud would clear things up for himself too. "You're my drug and I'm your addiction." His eyes roamed from where his hands touches Malfoy's cheek and down his neck, following the sinew and wondering how it would smell. On an impulse, he leaned forward, tucking his head under Malfoy's chin and breathed in the musky scent of the other boy's skin, along with traces of lavender bubblebath, except that Harry didn't know it was lavender of course; he just knew that it smelt... delicious. "Mmm," he voiced that contented opinion against Malfoy's throat; the blond could feel the vibration. Definitely like a drug. Nothing else had ever held this much fascination for him.
His arms wanting to encircle that warm body again, Harry curled Malfoy in against him. "Did you want this? Is this what you want?" He asked, looking into those depthless eyes which were so very close to his.
"Tell me I'm not dreaming, Potter," Draco's voice is hoarse.
Harry chuckled. He might be starting to become addicted to Draco Malfoy, but that didn't mean that he didn't retain his sanity. "It's not a dream." He pinched Malfoy on the arm; the Slytherin yelped and almost fell off the desk. "Potter! That hurt!" The dreamy mood was completely shattered.
"Sorry." Harry rubbed the place he had pinched, and Malfoy looked at him oddly.
Malfoy studied Harry slowly; Harry let him. "Potter. Are you on something? Taken too much Felix Felicis recently?"
"I must be losing my charm," Harry told himself. Malfoy looked confused. "Remember that small effect I have on you?" To demonstrate, he crushed Malfoy's torso towards his, and placed a gentle, yet firm kiss on Malfoy's lips, a warm pressure but not enough to fully satisfy. True to his hormones, Malfoy flushed a pleasured pink and peered at Harry through half-lidded eyes. "Don't think it doesn't cut both ways," Harry growled, cupping Malfoy's head to satisfy that kiss.
Little willing noises escape from Malfoy's mouth into Harry's, and those fingers whose touch Harry knew so well by now tangled into Harry's already messy hair, then a long sigh as they parted. "Tell me it's not a dream again," Malfoy murmurs.
Harry reached out to pinch the Slytherin again, but Draco jerked back a little. "Okay, I believe you!" he muttered hastily. Harry smiled, and dropped his arm back to around Malfoy's waist. "You know," Malfoy carried on, "it does seem like a dream for me. Merlin, Potter, right down to that bit where you did that Parseltongue at me." A chuckle escapes Harry's mouth, and Malfoy looks a little embarrassed. "It's-"
"Tsssss." You like this, Malfoy? Harry cut him off, and Malfoy looked a little overwhelmed. His breathing hitched just a bit, and his eyes settled on Harry's lips. "Tell me you like it, Malfoy," the Gryffindor continued in Parseltongue. Malfoy emitted a little gasp, flew forward and practically melted onto Harry. Harry could feel the hardness of the other boy's nipples on his chest, his hands curled into Harry's hair, his thighs tucked over his hips, his cheek rubbing against his neck, and Harry knew that this was a begging position. Something thrilling spread through him. "Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco," he hissed.
It was far past curfew, and Harry was sitting on the floor with his cloak spread out below him for insulation against the cold stone floor. Draco Malfoy was sprawled sideways over his legs, cheek leaning on Harry's chest. "So." His voice was completely back to normal, calm and smooth. It was almost like he'd been sedated. "What now?"
Harry's hand smoothed across Draco's waist. "Want to be my drug?" He asked with a wry smile. He heard Malfoy snort, and resettle himself more comfortable on Harry's chest.
* * *
Permission was granted. From the moment that Harry wanted himself to touch Malfoy, when he allowed himself to touch Malfoy, Malfoy started touching him again in return. Somehow, it ceased to annoy Harry, and it became something he inserted into his life as routine. Being Quidditch captain was useful; it meant that he could slip into the bathroom at the same time as Malfoy. Watching the other boy fling himself from the tub at him was also very erotic. Having Malfoy ferociously grin as he pressed his wet, naked body against Harry's and completely covering Harry's clothes in bubbles was oddly comforting. Seeing Malfoy's face light up whenever he whispered in Parseltongue gave him a smug feeling. Watching Malfoy's eyes stare when he took his robes off made him feel overly self-conscious, and yet proud, because Malfoy would forget to shut his mouth as he smiles dreamily. Harry didn't think that he'd seen Malfoy smile dreamily before.
Malfoy seemed to recede back into a child whenever Harry was sitting, because he always climbed into Harry's lap and curled himself up in an uncannily feline way. He was also very cautious, pausing before he ever did anything, as if Harry would snatch it away at the last second. Harry wondered whether that had come out of his upbringing; it related closely to his own, sometimes. Malfoy hovered his face just above Harry's, not quite touching in a kiss, and Harry leaned forward to take the kiss offered. Malfoy's lips were slightly fuller than his own, and Malfoy seemed to relish the feeling of Harry's tongue in his mouth, because he never fought it, massaging the Gryffindor's tongue with his own instead. Harry knew that this was a test. It was a small insecurity of Malfoy's; he constantly needed reassurance that Harry was still interested, and not just messing with him. Understandable, since Harry had rather violently rejected him for almost two months.
Not that Malfoy was any tamer. He was Draco Malfoy; he didn't become a sweet, cute boyfriend just because he was in love. In fact, he was demanding, always holding out his arms for Harry to sweep him into his arms, always thinking of his own comfort as he wriggled over Harry's lap. He was always tugging at Harry's hair to feel the texture difference; his own blond hair was fine and silky, and Harry's tended to be thicker, and fluffier. To Harry, it seemed like Malfoy was in this for confluent love. That was, he was only in it to pleasure himself, to make sure that he got what he wanted, what he needed. It was why Harry made sure that he was constantly startling the other boy, always making sure that the other boy's attention was on him, to bind Malfoy to himself, because he was... slowly realising that he possibly needed Malfoy more than Malfoy needed him. How ironic it had ended up like this.
Although it was Malfoy who acted the needy one, Harry got as much pleasure out of it as Malfoy did. He whispered Parseltongue into his ear when he passed him in class, making sure that the boy wanted him later. He shot Malfoy dirty looks and received dazed, lustful looks in return. He teased Malfoy's very upper, very inner thigh to make Malfoy keen and grab his hand with both of the boy's pale ones in order to keep Harry there. Harry always knew that it would end... sometime. When Malfoy someone better to fulfil his needs.
Harry never knew that he could be wrong. He was never wrong. Malfoy stretched, muscles rippling under his skin, as he started to undress. "So, Potter. Are you ever going to actually do it?" Harry looked over, puzzled. He had no idea what the other boy was going on about; he pulled his robe over his head. "Or are you going to make me beg?" His tone was snappy; Harry trotted over the tiled floor.
"What do you mean?" The Gryffindor was honestly confused. He holds his arms out and tried to envelope Malfoy in them; the blond came reluctantly. "Did I do something?"
"Damn right," the blond says grumpily. He sounds like he's been sex deprived.
It clicked. Ah. "Malfoy!" Harry sounded somewhat shocked. "I- I... you... now?" The blond turns his head to face Harry. His expression is arrogant, and they stare at each other for a moment. Suddenly, the feeling behind everything was present in Malfoy's eyes, though he didn't even blink. Then it was gone, and Harry was grateful for that small chance to read Malfoy's soul. "If you want," he said, unable to keep both anticipation and nervousness out of his voice.
Leading Malfoy into the large tub full of hot water, Harry took his time gently cleaning Malfoy, just an excuse to touch the iridescently pale skin. He leaned forward and kissed Malfoy on the neck. "Just... say if you want me to stop," he whispered, before leaning right over and suckling gently on Malfoy's neck. He already knew that Malfoy was ticklish there. The blond let out a small whine and curls his arms around Harry's heck, hands curling in the nape of his neck, holding Harry in position. Harry made Malfoy relax through touching his body and continuing to gently suck on his neck. "You know," he murmured between making visible marks on Malfoy's skin, "I never did punish you properly for messing with me for so long." He felt Malfoy shudder beneath him, and knew that the boy remembers when Harry more or less ravaged him mercilessly.
As he slid his hands down to cup Malfoy's buttocks, Malfoy shivers again, and Harry suddenly knew the perfect punishment. "Merlin," he whispers. "You'd like to be spanked, wouldn't you?" This little kink of Malfoy's is actually... really arousing. He cupped the rounded flesh in his hands and gripped it, hard. Malfoy moaned and slid lower into the water. For the moment, the promise of sex is lost. Harry grabbed the plug and yanked it so that some of the water drained out before replacing it. Now the tub seemed more like a paddling pool, and Harry can move his hand without the water much easier. Malfoy shivers from the loss of warm water.
Harry pulls the boy towards him, and manipulates Malfoy's limbs until his back was braced against the side of the tub and his legs were hooked around Harry's waist. He answered everything Malfoy said in Parseltongue, watching as it added to the goosebumps which already stood out because of the cold. Dirty talk in Parseltongue seemed just that much dirtier. The Gryffindor ran his hands over that sensitive flesh, and continued his quest of making a set of bite marks all the way down Malfoy's neck to his shoulders. Malfoy leaned into him, obviously loving being touched. When the boy wasn't expecting it, Harry lift a hand and slapped Malfoy on the backside soundly. Malfoy's entire body jerked, and Harry did it again. He didn't stop kissing Malfoy's neck, either, and rubbed his erection forwards onto Malfoy's. Malfoy whimpered.
Trapping Malfoy in a cycle of pleasure and pain, pinned helplessly to the side of the bathtub, Harry watched the boy's eyes flutter, his head tip backwards. Each spank resounded around the tiled room, and Malfoy reacted like he received an electric shock for each of them. His backside had turned a pleasurable shade of pink. Harry nibbled his way across Malfoy's jutting collarbones, and smoothed his hands over that warmed flesh, massaging out the sting. Malfoy gave a small mewl. Harry ground his erection against Malfoy's, and he knew that he was leaning forward, his weight on Malfoy, because there was no possible way he was still standing up by himself after this much arousal. When Malfoy's thigh muscles clenched around Harry's waist and his hips suddenly buckled, Harry rubbed harder, his own hips giving a spasm.
Orgasm. There was a splash as both boys simultaneously crumpled into the remaining water, Harry gasping, Malfoy gutterally groaning. Harry's legs were awkwardly stuck beneath Malfoy's, but he really didn't care. He swept two fingers across Malfoy, feeling the smooth texture of thick liquid on his fingers. He held his hand out wordlessly to Malfoy's lips, and the blond opened obediently, sucking lightly on Harry's fingers. This afterglow was the most comfortable feeling Harry had ever had. When he can move properly again, he shifts Malfoy properly into his lap and holds him close, washing both of them down. "Was that enough punishment?" Malfoy asked, touching the trace of bite marks on his throat as if reminding himself.
"Yesss," Harry hissed. An unbelievably satisfied look crossed Malfoy's face, and he rested his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry pulled the plug chain to get rid of the rest of the water and then fished around for a couple of fluffy towels to pat them down as much as he could, because it didn't look like Draco was going anywhere soon. They might not have had sex... but that was an alternative, not a replacement; it wasn't not-as-good, it was just more suitable for the situation.
"You know," Malfoy drawled in that all too familiar tone, "I'm not letting you take advantage of me all the time, you know."
Harry gave him a soft kiss. "I know," he replied. "You know," he paused, wondering if he really wanted to ask this. "If you found someone better, would you leave me alone?" He had to ask it like that, that brusquely, because Malfoy wouldn't stand for any sappy crap like 'would you leave me?', so he had to make it would like a mocking joke.
It took a long time for Malfoy to actually reply. Harry froze during that, afraid that he would actually reply with an affirmative. "No," he said eventually. "You're my addiction. I like this addiction." He arms curled around Harry's neck, and gently stroked his cheek, a soft smile that Harry realised was just for him. Just for him, because Malfoy wouldn't reveal it to anyone else.
"And you're my drug. Now get off me so that I can dry off, you heavy lump. Tssss."
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: Hard R/Soft NC-17
Word count: 6812 or so
Summary: It's only when Draco tries to get rid of his own addiction that Harry realises that he has his own. (Note: Not a drug addiction.)
Notes: Please tell me if there are any mistakes. For lunadragon at hds-beltane.
Harry Potter frowned in the middle of Potions. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, for some strange reason. He rubbed the back of his neck and tore himself away from the Half-Blood Prince's interpretation of the ingredients and glanced around. Most of the rest of the class were busy with their own potions, a couple glancing around anxiously as their cauldrons simmered. Scanning the room discreetly from right to left, Harry's eyes met with a pair he hadn't expected to meet: Draco Malfoy's.
As soon as they met, the grey eyes jerked away from their contact. Harry frowned again, as he momentarily watched Malfoy flip through the pages in his book, before starting to chop his daisy roots. Malfoy had been watching him; that had been his odd feeling. Malfoy was always doing something slightly odd though, so Harry didn't pay all too much attention to the other boy, and concentrated on his ashwinder eggs. Even with the help of the Half-Blood Prince, Potions was still a complicated subject; the book couldn't help him cut more precisely or measure out liquids.
It wasn't until Slughorn's last round through the classroom that Harry noticed that watched feeling again. He glanced straight at Malfoy this time, and sure enough, half-lidded grey eyes were staring at him. The eyes narrowed even more, transforming the face into a look of anger, before the blond head turned sharply away. Harry bit his lip. Perhaps Malfoy was up to something? Even more than he was usually, obviously, since Harry already suspected that Malfoy was up to something this year. He followed the other boy's movements for a bit, but shrugged it off; he'd have to find out what was going on later.
Perhaps it was a side effect of brewing a potion which smelled like Muggle cherry bubblegum, but Harry was somehow more enthusiastic about dinner than usual. Helping himself to the steaming Yorkshire pudding, the boy looked up, replying to something Ron said about their next Quidditch game. His eyes slid sideways and locked onto a blond head directly opposite him, across the entire width of the room. Once again, Malfoy was watching him, turning away as soon as he was noticed. It was definitely not coincidental, he decided, that Malfoy just happened to be sitting directly opposite him, despite there being the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables between them. He devoured his pudding and decided to grab his map and stalk Malfoy out later for a little interrogation.
Poring over the map in his bedroom, Harry scowled at the little moving dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. He'd checked on it between writing a Potions essay for Slughorn and learning human Transfiguration, and the boy had spent his entire time thus far in his dorm. He'd catch him after a lesson, perhaps. Until then, he'd just have to be aware for any hexes coming his way, or odd parcels, because Malfoy was definitely plotting something; he was just hoping to cut it off before it actually happened.
Infuriatingly, there was no chance to corner Malfoy. True to his Slytherin loyalties, he seemed to slither his way out of every opportunity Harry had, losing himself in a crowd of people. Even more infuriatingly was that the stares had carried on. Every lesson they had together, Harry would look up to see Malfoy looking at him oddly, and every time, he would give Harry an angry glare or a dark flush before looking away. Sometimes it happened at meals too. Harry had tried to take a seat facing the wall so that he wouldn't have to see Malfoy blatantly staring at him, but the itchy feeling of knowing that Malfoy was staring at his back annoyed him too, so he had gone back to getting a seat which faced the other boy. At least it meant that he knew when he was being watched.
* * *
He couldn't stand much more of this. If Harry didn't corner Malfoy soon, he was just going to jump on him in class and whack his bloody blond head against a desk until the other boy just told him everything. Therefore, it was extremely lucky that Harry spied a certain blond head walking down an unfamiliar dungeon corridor directly after Potions. Deciding on a run instead of stealthily creeping up (it was almost impossible to creep anywhere in the echo-filled, stone corridors of the dungeons), Harry flung his full body weight onto one startled blond and dragged him into the nearest empty classroom, shutting the door firmly behind them.
"Potter!" Malfoy coughed, waving his hand through the accumulated dust in here, thick and only disturbed by their arrival. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Harry snorted. "What am I doing?! What're you doing, Malfoy?! Watching me all the time. Spying on me? Trying to observe my actions and discover my weak spot?" He stood with his wand ready, just in case, back to the door so that the other boy wouldn't be able to get past him.
The Slytherin flushed and opened his mouth to start to say something. He stopped through the first syllable, shook his head and snorted. He was still flushing, but it was angry. "I'm not doing anything. It's a free world, isn't it? I can still look at The Chosen One if I particularly want to, right?" He wasn't looking at Harry now though.
Harry blinked. Did the Slytherin honestly think that no one would notice anything abnormal about his behaviour?! "Since when have you taken to watching me all the damn time?! I don't think I can go to the toilet without you traipsing around after me!" He forgot that he was a wizard, with a wand at his disposal, even though his wand was still in his hand. He grabbed the Slytherin's shoulders and slammed him against a wall. Dust flew, and Draco grunted as he hit the rough stone wall.
"Why are you following me?!" Harry demanded. The other boy still refused to look at him, pink highlighting his cheekbones and ears. "Malfoy! Answer me, damn you!" Nothing, apart from the physical struggle to push Harry off.
"Don't touch me, don't," Draco's voice was shrill, a blend of angry and frantic. Was he scared that Harry was going to hurt him? Harry hoped so. "Get off me, Potter, don't touch me!" His voice was a bit feeble though, and he was a bad angle for shoving Harry off.
Harry moved his body even closer, using his body weight to keep Malfoy pinned to the wall. "Tell me what nasty little scheme you're plotting, Malfoy. Tell me before I punch your face in!" He wasn't a fighter, but he bet that he was much better at it than the Slytherin, who had probably only ever fought with a wand. He leaned his weight on threateningly. Perhaps he'd picked up more than just a few bruises from Dudley Dursley. Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, only looking up in a quick glance, before away again; that was odd, since Malfoy didn't seem to have a problem with looking at him the rest of the time.
Malfoy squirmed again, probably hoping to be able to shift himself out from under Harry, and Harry suddenly froze. When Malfoy had moved, he'd felt... something brush against his thigh. From the panicked look on Malfoy's face, he'd felt it too. He pushed away in revulsion. "MALFOY! What the... Just... WHAT THE HELL?!" He hollered, inhaling a large amount of dust. "That- you!" He flung himself at the door and barrelled through, the heavy door slamming behind him.
On the other side of the door, Draco Malfoy covered his face with his hands and slumped to the floor, erection ridiculously uncomfortable and equally unwanted. He shivered; little wonder he hadn't wanted Potter to touch him. Sometimes, the mere presence of the other boy set him off. He hated it.
Harry Potter was in shock. Of all nasty, evil, Death-Eater-ish things he had expected, he had not expected an erection stuck into his thigh. He shivered, and swallowed hard. At least he understood Malfoy's elaborate efforts at sneaking away now though. Malfoy fancied him. Good grief, just thinking the words made him shiver. Well, Harry would leave him to his staring across the Great Hall at dinnertime and his odd looks in lessons. Malfoy would get over it, and it wasn't as if it would be hard for Harry to just stay away from Malfoy until he did.
* * *
Draco Malfoy was starting to get more and more on Harry's nerves. It wasn't that he had been approached by the other boy; indeed, Malfoy seemed as eager to avoid Harry as Harry was to avoid him. It was that Harry knew Malfoy was constantly watching him, and now that Malfoy knew that Harry knew why, it seemed to have increased. It was supposed to stop; Malfoy was supposed to get over his little crush and then they could both get on with their lives, Harry not wasting his time turning around every time that paranoid feeling came up just in case it wasn't Malfoy, and Malfoy not wasting all his time watching Harry. It annoyed the Gryffindor.
There was just one thing which annoyed Harry more these days. It was that whenever he was in a crowd, walking through a jammed corridor, flooding towards the Quidditch pitch or anything else, there would be... touches. There would be a light pressure on his back; a sweep across his hip, a rub on his stomach, a flicker of fingers over his waist. Every time he turned around, no matter how quick he was, he never managed to catch the culprit. Not that he didn't know who said culprit was. Malfoy, obviously. There couldn't be anyone else.
Harry gritted his teeth as he felt a palm on his ribs and whipped around. No one, obviously. He would never have thought that it'd be so easy to hide that distinguishable hair, even if it was a crowded corridor with Fourth Years clamouring to get to lunch. Scowling ferociously at his bangers and mash which tasted absolutely wonderful, the boy knew that he'd have to do it again. He'd have to corner Draco Malfoy again. Perhaps threaten him this time. He was hardly going to just let himself be molested by his archrival who just happened to have a rather odd crush on him. Even Ginny hadn't ever resorted to groping him in the corridors.
* * *
Now Harry just had the rather hard tasks of, firstly, tracking Malfoy down, and secondly, forcing him to stop without going within two metres of the other boy. Feeling someone else's erection against your thigh... was far too odd.
That was the only reason Harry was staked out in an unfamiliar, dank dungeon corridor under his Invisibility Cloak with the Marauder's Map open before him. The flame from the torch on the wall made light flicker over his map, and squinted closer at the small dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy'. It was still before curfew, but the lack of light penetration into the dungeons made it seem later than it really was. Harry had been watching Malfoy on the map for a fair few days now, to see his habits. It would be no use standing for hours in the corridors if Malfoy was just going spend all evening inside, was it? Instead, he had noticed that Malfoy apparently liked the Prefects' Bathroom, and used it at almost the same time every day, for almost exactly the same amount of time. He'd come out soon, and Harry would be able to drag him into the unused classroom he'd already located (this time, getting rid of all dust).
Soft steps sounded, echoing slightly, and Harry muttered, "Mischief managed!" before tucking the map away, poised to take Malfoy out. As soon as the edging of black robes brushed past him, Harry snapped, "Stupefy!" He quickly reached out to catch Malfoy before the boy fell to the floor and split his head open or something, and hauled him into the secluded room. Bloody hell, he was heavy.
Tugging the body over towards the fire in the classroom that Harry had thoughtfully put in (it wasn't like it was difficult, and the dungeons did tend to be rather nippy), the boy suddenly mentally bashed his brain in for not thinking about levitating the other boy instead and rolled his eyes at himself. Dumping Malfoy near the fire (it was warmer), Harry muttered and concentrated, "Enervate."
The blond boy stirred and curled into a little ball as if he were asleep, before bolting upright. "Potter!" He scrambled to his feet, pulling his wand out. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"I thought we had this exact same debate last time," Harry said, somehow vaguely amused. "It's supposed to be my question. What on earth are you doing?"
There was a confused look across Malfoy's face for just a moment before it was quashed. "I'm being abducted in the freaking dungeons on my way to have a bath, apparently. Now you answer what you're doing." His wand hand was shaking. Harry's was not.
The Gryffindor frowned. "Malfoy. You can't seriously expect to just... touch me around school and I'm just going to stand there and let you make me your gropebag. So stop it." A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand from his suppressed emotion. Trying to not flying across the room and throttling Malfoy, that was.
Malfoy flushed, a warm pink sweeping across his cheeks and ears. "I- I..." He didn't really have much to stay. His wand arm slowly lowers and shakes much more violently now. "I can't help it." His swallow was audible, and Harry was fighting to not look away; he didn't want to see Draco Malfoy looking vulnerable and lost. It just wasn't an image he wanted to associate with the other boy. His eyes close, a slow sweep of white blond lashes, and Harry knew that he's just gathering himself together. He let him. The moment the soft lines on Malfoy's drained face harden, Harry knows that he's back, the Malfoy façade. He didn't quite know why he was watching the Slytherin so closely that he noticed the minimal change, or even how he knew that the change had occurred, but... somehow, he did.
"But you're going to stop it." It was a statement, a firm assertion.
Malfoy looked at him, but it wasn't his usual glare. It was colder, with less emotion than a glare. He crossed his arms, a poor substitute for hugging himself. "I'll do what I want, Potter." This translated into meaning that he won't. He can't, because he can't help himself. Harry knew that if Malfoy could stop himself, he damn well could.
"Malfoy," Harry couldn't stop the irritation from his voice. "You will stop it. Or I'm going to hex you into oblivion." The look on Malfoy's face indicates that he would quite happily take that. Harry ground his teeth. Sometimes, he hates using his wand. There's nothing which can quite replace a fist in someone's face, not that the Dursleys think that way. Harry pocketed his wand, fisted the front of Malfoy's robes and hoisted upwards so that the collar cut into his neck. One thing Harry had over Malfoy was actual experience of muggle fighting.
"MALFOY." The Gryffindor snapped, "Cut it out or I'm going to break your nose." At least something like this couldn't be traced back to his wand or anything. Malfoy clutched at his wrist, trying to not be choked. His breathing went completely haywire, his already fragile shield shattering.
When he spoke, Malfoy's voice was a bare whisper. "Potter. You're too close." He licked his lips nervously, looking at anywhere except directly at the boy in front of him. Harry could practically feel the heat radiating off the other boy, and felt a sick feeling at the bottom of his stomach; he wanted to back off rather desperately. This close to a... horny Draco Malfoy was enough to make anyone nauseous.
Since the other boy had gone redder than any normal person should be, Harry relaxed his grip. He didn't want to actually kill Malfoy, after all. The moment he did that, weight tumbled onto him. Harry spluttered, as his rival for the last five and a bit years crumpled onto him, arms wound tightly around his neck and his chest, hips, thighs, erection and all, all pressed firmly against Harry's body. He could feel the despair behind the death grip, the longing and absolute need of Malfoy. Malfoy made a small whimper against Harry's neck. It was almost as if Malfoy was a drug addict, desperate for just a bit more, and Harry was the drug. His insides squirmed at that thought. He was just about to try to pry the other boy off, but Malfoy slid off, embarrassment exuding from his whole body posture. Once again, he refused to look up at Harry. "That... won't happen again." The words drop reluctantly from his mouth in a harsh whisper. He really did hug himself this time, even though the fire that Harry had put in was still blazing strongly.
Harry backed off, eyes wide. He didn't think he had any words that could possibly put his feelings into coherent English. Malfoy shook his head, flicks of blond hair tumbling over his eyes. His voice hardened slightly, even though it was a feeble attempt. "It's just a crush, Potter. I'll get over it." His tone, facial expression never changed, but Harry could read Malfoy better than most; he had spent the better part of five years studying all he can of the other boy in order to gain one up over him. He could tell that Malfoy's demeanour is slowly cracking.
Harry snorted just a little. "You know, Malfoy. I'll make you a deal. If you stop molesting me in the corridor, I'll give you a hug or two every so often." At least then he'd know when it would be and how to deal with it.
He was right about Malfoy losing it; the boy let out a small sound which encompassed all the complex emotions behind his actions, anger, confusion, want, and possibly... just possibly, a sob. "I told you already! I can't... I can't help it!" Draco snapped, trembling all over. "It's not just about the- the physicality of a hug or two, you moron, don't you get that?!" He bolted out of the room, only struggling briefly with the heavy door and Harry let him. The Gryffindor stood there for a while before slowly traipsing back to his common room. He knew, wanted to deny it, but knew that... Malfoy was already a lost case. There was no point trying to ask Malfoy to stop. Perhaps he'd just hide himself away, but there was a small persistent thought at the back of his mind saying that if that happened, Malfoy would just stalk him down. Yeeah... perhaps not.
* * *
Lessons continued. Life in general continued. Malfoy molesting Harry continued. It happened so frequently that he got used to it... almost. There were certain touches which Harry couldn't get used to. Apparently, Malfoy was now bold enough to brush his groin. Harry endured it with gritted teeth, telling himself that he'd just hex Malfoy into oblivion once Malfoy got over the crush. It sure was damn hard walking around with half an erection though, and sometimes even harder to hide. Harry started wearing muggle jeans under his robes to help with that.
When it all suddenly stopped, Harry noticed immediately. Hardly a day went by with him feeling Malfoy's long fingers across at least one part of his body, and he had no idea how the other boy managed to conceal himself so well. However, two days had passed without a single incident. Two whole days. Perhaps, Harry thought, Malfoy had finally gotten over it. It felt odd to him though. He expected a touch so much that he missed it. It was something which had been surreptitiously added into his routine, and now, he was suddenly thrown.
Harry stretched himself across his Gryffindor bed and closed his eyes wearily, trying to sort himself out. Other people might call it meditation, or whatever, but to him, he just needed a bit of time to himself. It had been five days without a single hint of Malfoy anywhere near. Not even any stares across the classroom. And... Harry missed it. He admitted it to himself. He more than just simply missed it, actually. His body felt strangely bare, as if he had walked into a breeze and something has been taken away from him. This time, he knows that he's like the drug addict, and Malfoy is his drug. Harry swallowed.
In Potions the day after, Harry made a point of scrutinising Malfoy. People didn't just wake up and not have feelings for someone else all in one day; there hadn't been a slow decrease of Malfoy's attentions upon Harry, it had simply stopped one day. He was all too aware of the irony of this; he was now staring at Malfoy because the other boy had stopped staring at him. It was like a situation reversal. He caught Malfoy's eyes once, a locking of contact when they just happened to be turning their heads to face something else. But that something else remained unseen as they froze. Harry knew. He knew. Malfoy still lusted after him. The Slytherin hadn't gotten over anything. He could read it in those grey eyes. Eyes were windows to the soul, and Malfoy's windows were usually boarded up, but Harry had caught him with his shields down.
* * *
This would be the last time. Harry knew this too. This would be the last time he would have to prey on Malfoy in order to be able to speak with the other boy. It was amazing how the 'stupefy!' routine worked completely smoothly again. You'd have thought that Malfoy would have changed the times he went for his bath, but he was apparently a creature of habit, even though Harry captured him after his bath this time. "So," Harry started as soon as the blond head stirred, "why did you stop?"
Malfoy got up slowly, warily. There was a long pause. "Because I was sick of myself," he said flatly. "It was pathetic. So I stopped it." He looked pained, and not just pained from being Stupefied. He was also lying through his teeth. "I went... cold turkey." He looked so pale, so fragile, so... ready to be broken.
"...Cold turkey?" Harry looked Malfoy over, noticed his dishevelled state. "You look like you're going into withdrawal." Malfoy looked at him with disbelieving eyes. Bantering small talk, being so calm when he WAS going through bloody withdrawal! "You're not the only one suffering, you know," the Gryffindor continued. A small snort was heard from Malfoy's vicinity. "Ever had sex withdrawal?" He'd only figured it out a few days ago. When the body was used to getting regular pleasure and arousal, it yearned for more. Depriving it acted much like drug addiction on a smaller scale.
Striding over rapidly to the blond, Harry pushed his body against Malfoy's. "You know how unfair it is of you to make me aroused and then just leave me? How bloody annoying it is to be walking around with an erection?" His voice came out slightly lower than usual, and Malfoy shut his eyes at the pressure of the warm body on his. "Do you know how hard it is to act completely normal after you've had your little paws grabbing all over me?" He'd backed Malfoy into a desk and their pelvises ground together. Malfoy let out a small cry and clutched at Harry's robe to stop himself being forced to lean back any further.
Suddenly, Harry swooped forward, quickly sliding both arms around Malfoy, trapped him in a circle of his arms with a Parseltongue hiss. He saw Malfoy's eyes roll upwards before they fluttered closed. Lust was a wonderful thing sometimes. "How would you like it if I touched you all the time, and you couldn't do anything?" True to his words, Harry's hands started dragging over Draco's body, soft in some places, hard sometimes, gripping, pinching, rubbing. "Like this? You wanted this, right, Malfoy?" Malfoy crumpled back over the desk moaning, apparently very flexible, as Harry palmed him all over, mercilessly. His hands tried to fumble for something, but Harry slapped them away until Malfoy took the hint and just gripped the edge of the desk.
Harry's hands kneaded into Malfoy's soft side and he arched his back, unconsciously opening himself up to more. Harry pushed his hands under the boy's back, tracing the arched curve of his spine downwards, gripping his arse and squeezing it; even further downwards, Harry stroked Malfoy's thighs, teased the boy's erection through his robes. Not much time has passed at all, but Draco Malfoy was spread-eagled backwards over an old desk, writhing as Harry got his revenge for over a month of surreptitious groping. Harry lifted a knee and lifted himself into what little space there was left on the desk, circling an arm around Malfoy's shoulders to seat the boy back up.
It's a small desk; Draco ended up mostly seated on Harry's left thigh, one leg hanging off the edge of the desk, the other hooked over Harry's hip, shaking violently. Harry held him in a tight hug, crushingly tight, pressed the blond head to his chest until he felt the shudderings lesson, then eventually decrease into just a slight tremor. "Hey, Malfoy? You okay now?" There's a slight shift on his chest, which Harry presumed to be a nod, and he relaxed his comforting grip.
Draco looked calmer, less hysterical, but somehow lost. "Potter? I... didn't you..." His thoughts were obviously only now becoming coherent. "I said that this wouldn't happened again." It's not a question, but his confused tone makes it one.
A slightly twisted smile curved over Harry's lips. "Well. I didn't, did I?" His right hand touched the back of the Slytherin's head, picking up a lock of hair and letting it fall through his fingers. "I always thought it'd be a little greasy," he commented. Malfoy didn't move, like a hunted animal does when it doesn't want to attract attention, as if he froze, time would too, and nothing would go terribly wrong. "And I can tell you've never had an acne problem in your life," he added dryly, gently placing two fingertips on a pale cheek. Malfoy manages to look vaguely offended; of course he's never had an acne problem!
"You understand, don't you?" Harry's almost talking to himself; saying it out loud would clear things up for himself too. "You're my drug and I'm your addiction." His eyes roamed from where his hands touches Malfoy's cheek and down his neck, following the sinew and wondering how it would smell. On an impulse, he leaned forward, tucking his head under Malfoy's chin and breathed in the musky scent of the other boy's skin, along with traces of lavender bubblebath, except that Harry didn't know it was lavender of course; he just knew that it smelt... delicious. "Mmm," he voiced that contented opinion against Malfoy's throat; the blond could feel the vibration. Definitely like a drug. Nothing else had ever held this much fascination for him.
His arms wanting to encircle that warm body again, Harry curled Malfoy in against him. "Did you want this? Is this what you want?" He asked, looking into those depthless eyes which were so very close to his.
"Tell me I'm not dreaming, Potter," Draco's voice is hoarse.
Harry chuckled. He might be starting to become addicted to Draco Malfoy, but that didn't mean that he didn't retain his sanity. "It's not a dream." He pinched Malfoy on the arm; the Slytherin yelped and almost fell off the desk. "Potter! That hurt!" The dreamy mood was completely shattered.
"Sorry." Harry rubbed the place he had pinched, and Malfoy looked at him oddly.
Malfoy studied Harry slowly; Harry let him. "Potter. Are you on something? Taken too much Felix Felicis recently?"
"I must be losing my charm," Harry told himself. Malfoy looked confused. "Remember that small effect I have on you?" To demonstrate, he crushed Malfoy's torso towards his, and placed a gentle, yet firm kiss on Malfoy's lips, a warm pressure but not enough to fully satisfy. True to his hormones, Malfoy flushed a pleasured pink and peered at Harry through half-lidded eyes. "Don't think it doesn't cut both ways," Harry growled, cupping Malfoy's head to satisfy that kiss.
Little willing noises escape from Malfoy's mouth into Harry's, and those fingers whose touch Harry knew so well by now tangled into Harry's already messy hair, then a long sigh as they parted. "Tell me it's not a dream again," Malfoy murmurs.
Harry reached out to pinch the Slytherin again, but Draco jerked back a little. "Okay, I believe you!" he muttered hastily. Harry smiled, and dropped his arm back to around Malfoy's waist. "You know," Malfoy carried on, "it does seem like a dream for me. Merlin, Potter, right down to that bit where you did that Parseltongue at me." A chuckle escapes Harry's mouth, and Malfoy looks a little embarrassed. "It's-"
"Tsssss." You like this, Malfoy? Harry cut him off, and Malfoy looked a little overwhelmed. His breathing hitched just a bit, and his eyes settled on Harry's lips. "Tell me you like it, Malfoy," the Gryffindor continued in Parseltongue. Malfoy emitted a little gasp, flew forward and practically melted onto Harry. Harry could feel the hardness of the other boy's nipples on his chest, his hands curled into Harry's hair, his thighs tucked over his hips, his cheek rubbing against his neck, and Harry knew that this was a begging position. Something thrilling spread through him. "Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco," he hissed.
It was far past curfew, and Harry was sitting on the floor with his cloak spread out below him for insulation against the cold stone floor. Draco Malfoy was sprawled sideways over his legs, cheek leaning on Harry's chest. "So." His voice was completely back to normal, calm and smooth. It was almost like he'd been sedated. "What now?"
Harry's hand smoothed across Draco's waist. "Want to be my drug?" He asked with a wry smile. He heard Malfoy snort, and resettle himself more comfortable on Harry's chest.
* * *
Permission was granted. From the moment that Harry wanted himself to touch Malfoy, when he allowed himself to touch Malfoy, Malfoy started touching him again in return. Somehow, it ceased to annoy Harry, and it became something he inserted into his life as routine. Being Quidditch captain was useful; it meant that he could slip into the bathroom at the same time as Malfoy. Watching the other boy fling himself from the tub at him was also very erotic. Having Malfoy ferociously grin as he pressed his wet, naked body against Harry's and completely covering Harry's clothes in bubbles was oddly comforting. Seeing Malfoy's face light up whenever he whispered in Parseltongue gave him a smug feeling. Watching Malfoy's eyes stare when he took his robes off made him feel overly self-conscious, and yet proud, because Malfoy would forget to shut his mouth as he smiles dreamily. Harry didn't think that he'd seen Malfoy smile dreamily before.
Malfoy seemed to recede back into a child whenever Harry was sitting, because he always climbed into Harry's lap and curled himself up in an uncannily feline way. He was also very cautious, pausing before he ever did anything, as if Harry would snatch it away at the last second. Harry wondered whether that had come out of his upbringing; it related closely to his own, sometimes. Malfoy hovered his face just above Harry's, not quite touching in a kiss, and Harry leaned forward to take the kiss offered. Malfoy's lips were slightly fuller than his own, and Malfoy seemed to relish the feeling of Harry's tongue in his mouth, because he never fought it, massaging the Gryffindor's tongue with his own instead. Harry knew that this was a test. It was a small insecurity of Malfoy's; he constantly needed reassurance that Harry was still interested, and not just messing with him. Understandable, since Harry had rather violently rejected him for almost two months.
Not that Malfoy was any tamer. He was Draco Malfoy; he didn't become a sweet, cute boyfriend just because he was in love. In fact, he was demanding, always holding out his arms for Harry to sweep him into his arms, always thinking of his own comfort as he wriggled over Harry's lap. He was always tugging at Harry's hair to feel the texture difference; his own blond hair was fine and silky, and Harry's tended to be thicker, and fluffier. To Harry, it seemed like Malfoy was in this for confluent love. That was, he was only in it to pleasure himself, to make sure that he got what he wanted, what he needed. It was why Harry made sure that he was constantly startling the other boy, always making sure that the other boy's attention was on him, to bind Malfoy to himself, because he was... slowly realising that he possibly needed Malfoy more than Malfoy needed him. How ironic it had ended up like this.
Although it was Malfoy who acted the needy one, Harry got as much pleasure out of it as Malfoy did. He whispered Parseltongue into his ear when he passed him in class, making sure that the boy wanted him later. He shot Malfoy dirty looks and received dazed, lustful looks in return. He teased Malfoy's very upper, very inner thigh to make Malfoy keen and grab his hand with both of the boy's pale ones in order to keep Harry there. Harry always knew that it would end... sometime. When Malfoy someone better to fulfil his needs.
Harry never knew that he could be wrong. He was never wrong. Malfoy stretched, muscles rippling under his skin, as he started to undress. "So, Potter. Are you ever going to actually do it?" Harry looked over, puzzled. He had no idea what the other boy was going on about; he pulled his robe over his head. "Or are you going to make me beg?" His tone was snappy; Harry trotted over the tiled floor.
"What do you mean?" The Gryffindor was honestly confused. He holds his arms out and tried to envelope Malfoy in them; the blond came reluctantly. "Did I do something?"
"Damn right," the blond says grumpily. He sounds like he's been sex deprived.
It clicked. Ah. "Malfoy!" Harry sounded somewhat shocked. "I- I... you... now?" The blond turns his head to face Harry. His expression is arrogant, and they stare at each other for a moment. Suddenly, the feeling behind everything was present in Malfoy's eyes, though he didn't even blink. Then it was gone, and Harry was grateful for that small chance to read Malfoy's soul. "If you want," he said, unable to keep both anticipation and nervousness out of his voice.
Leading Malfoy into the large tub full of hot water, Harry took his time gently cleaning Malfoy, just an excuse to touch the iridescently pale skin. He leaned forward and kissed Malfoy on the neck. "Just... say if you want me to stop," he whispered, before leaning right over and suckling gently on Malfoy's neck. He already knew that Malfoy was ticklish there. The blond let out a small whine and curls his arms around Harry's heck, hands curling in the nape of his neck, holding Harry in position. Harry made Malfoy relax through touching his body and continuing to gently suck on his neck. "You know," he murmured between making visible marks on Malfoy's skin, "I never did punish you properly for messing with me for so long." He felt Malfoy shudder beneath him, and knew that the boy remembers when Harry more or less ravaged him mercilessly.
As he slid his hands down to cup Malfoy's buttocks, Malfoy shivers again, and Harry suddenly knew the perfect punishment. "Merlin," he whispers. "You'd like to be spanked, wouldn't you?" This little kink of Malfoy's is actually... really arousing. He cupped the rounded flesh in his hands and gripped it, hard. Malfoy moaned and slid lower into the water. For the moment, the promise of sex is lost. Harry grabbed the plug and yanked it so that some of the water drained out before replacing it. Now the tub seemed more like a paddling pool, and Harry can move his hand without the water much easier. Malfoy shivers from the loss of warm water.
Harry pulls the boy towards him, and manipulates Malfoy's limbs until his back was braced against the side of the tub and his legs were hooked around Harry's waist. He answered everything Malfoy said in Parseltongue, watching as it added to the goosebumps which already stood out because of the cold. Dirty talk in Parseltongue seemed just that much dirtier. The Gryffindor ran his hands over that sensitive flesh, and continued his quest of making a set of bite marks all the way down Malfoy's neck to his shoulders. Malfoy leaned into him, obviously loving being touched. When the boy wasn't expecting it, Harry lift a hand and slapped Malfoy on the backside soundly. Malfoy's entire body jerked, and Harry did it again. He didn't stop kissing Malfoy's neck, either, and rubbed his erection forwards onto Malfoy's. Malfoy whimpered.
Trapping Malfoy in a cycle of pleasure and pain, pinned helplessly to the side of the bathtub, Harry watched the boy's eyes flutter, his head tip backwards. Each spank resounded around the tiled room, and Malfoy reacted like he received an electric shock for each of them. His backside had turned a pleasurable shade of pink. Harry nibbled his way across Malfoy's jutting collarbones, and smoothed his hands over that warmed flesh, massaging out the sting. Malfoy gave a small mewl. Harry ground his erection against Malfoy's, and he knew that he was leaning forward, his weight on Malfoy, because there was no possible way he was still standing up by himself after this much arousal. When Malfoy's thigh muscles clenched around Harry's waist and his hips suddenly buckled, Harry rubbed harder, his own hips giving a spasm.
Orgasm. There was a splash as both boys simultaneously crumpled into the remaining water, Harry gasping, Malfoy gutterally groaning. Harry's legs were awkwardly stuck beneath Malfoy's, but he really didn't care. He swept two fingers across Malfoy, feeling the smooth texture of thick liquid on his fingers. He held his hand out wordlessly to Malfoy's lips, and the blond opened obediently, sucking lightly on Harry's fingers. This afterglow was the most comfortable feeling Harry had ever had. When he can move properly again, he shifts Malfoy properly into his lap and holds him close, washing both of them down. "Was that enough punishment?" Malfoy asked, touching the trace of bite marks on his throat as if reminding himself.
"Yesss," Harry hissed. An unbelievably satisfied look crossed Malfoy's face, and he rested his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry pulled the plug chain to get rid of the rest of the water and then fished around for a couple of fluffy towels to pat them down as much as he could, because it didn't look like Draco was going anywhere soon. They might not have had sex... but that was an alternative, not a replacement; it wasn't not-as-good, it was just more suitable for the situation.
"You know," Malfoy drawled in that all too familiar tone, "I'm not letting you take advantage of me all the time, you know."
Harry gave him a soft kiss. "I know," he replied. "You know," he paused, wondering if he really wanted to ask this. "If you found someone better, would you leave me alone?" He had to ask it like that, that brusquely, because Malfoy wouldn't stand for any sappy crap like 'would you leave me?', so he had to make it would like a mocking joke.
It took a long time for Malfoy to actually reply. Harry froze during that, afraid that he would actually reply with an affirmative. "No," he said eventually. "You're my addiction. I like this addiction." He arms curled around Harry's neck, and gently stroked his cheek, a soft smile that Harry realised was just for him. Just for him, because Malfoy wouldn't reveal it to anyone else.
"And you're my drug. Now get off me so that I can dry off, you heavy lump. Tssss."