"Slipping By", H/D, rated-R, 800 words, WIP
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
This fic keeps growing and growing, so I thought I would post the first four parts here. Each part is 200 words. More to come soon.
Title: Slipping By, Parts 1-4
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Summary: Be here, now.
Notes: Eight drabbles. So far.
The steady chimes of the grandfather clock reverberated through the dormitory. The cheers and singing that followed echoed through Harry.
It was too much to be sitting alone, listening to the minutes tick by, time stretching thin over his weary body.
Ron was yelling now, Harry could almost make out the words. When Hermione jumped in, interrupting him, Harry couldn’t help but grin. Then it struck again, quickening his heart and making him fight to breathe. He scrambled off the bed and dashed through the cold room, down the stairs and past his drunken friends. They never saw him leave.
*
Malfoy silently stepped away from the rowdy crowd and glanced up at the clock. The second hand ticked in tight, deliberate circles and he felt helpless to stop it. Soon he would kneel down before a ghost of a man who would mark him - inside and out. Or he might take a stand against everything he was bred to become. Either way, he felt certain he would not see the passing of another year.
Slipping past his inebriated friends and through the common room door, he pulled in a long, slow breath. The chill of the dungeon was invigorating.
*
Harry hurried down the numerous flights of stairs, hoping one might suddenly twist him away from his intentions. Tripping off the last step, he stared around at the brightly lit hallway. Torches lined the massive walls, casting shadowy flames from floor to ceiling. Harry had never seen so many torches lit in one place and it gave him the eerie feeling that his presence had been expected. Portraits creaked and snored in their frames, peacefully unaware of their surroundings and Harry had no intention of waking them. Gripping the railing, he lowered himself down onto the bottom stair. And waited.
*
It was a mere forty-two steps to the first floor of the castle. Yet, the transformation never ceased to amaze Malfoy-the spacious corridors, the bustling of professors, the shouts and laughter from students of all houses. Somehow the dungeon snuffed out all that fiery enthusiasm like the flame from a candle.
He stepped into the corridor, squinting against the vivid glow. Then he picked up the pace, not caring if the stone scraped his shoulder as his eyes adjusted. When he finally stopped, the torches threw shadows across his face, shielding him.
“Happy New Year, Harry,” Malfoy said, grinning.
*
Every situation can be altered in a single moment. McGonagall had spent an entire class discussing the power associated with the simple “swish and flick”. Magic, she had repeated over and over, is never simple.
Malfoy was still leaning against the wall, staring at him, and Harry could not control the familiar rush of electricity that twisted through his body. Sliding his hand into a pocket of his robe, he wondered if a wave of his wand could alter this into something else. Malfoy’s gaze dropped to follow Harry’s curious movements, and Harry closed his eyes… and relaxed his fingers.
*
It was infuriating to meet Harry this way. He knew how hard it was - for both of them. The entire situation was a recipe for disaster. Malfoy carefully watched Harry thread his fingers through his hair and glance away, his expression suddenly masked by a pocket of darkness.
The circumstances were always maddening and thrilling and it was all Malfoy could do not to break the silent agreement that he and Harry had somehow pieced together over the past year. Pulling in a breath, he pushed off the wall and whispered, “Follow me.” Then he turned around and began walking away.
*
Each encounter became more difficult than the last and Harry had to frequently convince himself that this moment - like any other - was simply that. A moment. It had no lasting effect on the goal he was desperately trying to accomplish, not even when he was pressed against a wall and Malfoy’s hot mouth was sliding down his neck. Not even when he ran his palm up Malfoy’s arm, pausing just below Malfoy’s shoulder
Malfoy’s fingers curled around the hem of Harry’s robe and tugged. Then he stepped inside the remote classroom and was instantly swallowed up by darkness.
*
The first touch was always the same, almost imperceptible. Harry wove a single fingertip up and down Malfoy’s left palm, drawing out words and symbols until their fingers finally slid together. After a quiet minute, he pulled free again and glided upward until his wandering hand barely skated over the soft skin of Malfoy’s forearm.
Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to scream, to kick things, to punch Harry firmly in the jaw. He was also finding it harder and harder to let go.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Harry softly on the mouth.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
Parts 5-8
This fic keeps growing and growing, so I thought I would post the first four parts here. Each part is 200 words. More to come soon.
Title: Slipping By, Parts 1-4
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Summary: Be here, now.
Notes: Eight drabbles. So far.
The steady chimes of the grandfather clock reverberated through the dormitory. The cheers and singing that followed echoed through Harry.
It was too much to be sitting alone, listening to the minutes tick by, time stretching thin over his weary body.
Ron was yelling now, Harry could almost make out the words. When Hermione jumped in, interrupting him, Harry couldn’t help but grin. Then it struck again, quickening his heart and making him fight to breathe. He scrambled off the bed and dashed through the cold room, down the stairs and past his drunken friends. They never saw him leave.
*
Malfoy silently stepped away from the rowdy crowd and glanced up at the clock. The second hand ticked in tight, deliberate circles and he felt helpless to stop it. Soon he would kneel down before a ghost of a man who would mark him - inside and out. Or he might take a stand against everything he was bred to become. Either way, he felt certain he would not see the passing of another year.
Slipping past his inebriated friends and through the common room door, he pulled in a long, slow breath. The chill of the dungeon was invigorating.
*
Harry hurried down the numerous flights of stairs, hoping one might suddenly twist him away from his intentions. Tripping off the last step, he stared around at the brightly lit hallway. Torches lined the massive walls, casting shadowy flames from floor to ceiling. Harry had never seen so many torches lit in one place and it gave him the eerie feeling that his presence had been expected. Portraits creaked and snored in their frames, peacefully unaware of their surroundings and Harry had no intention of waking them. Gripping the railing, he lowered himself down onto the bottom stair. And waited.
*
It was a mere forty-two steps to the first floor of the castle. Yet, the transformation never ceased to amaze Malfoy-the spacious corridors, the bustling of professors, the shouts and laughter from students of all houses. Somehow the dungeon snuffed out all that fiery enthusiasm like the flame from a candle.
He stepped into the corridor, squinting against the vivid glow. Then he picked up the pace, not caring if the stone scraped his shoulder as his eyes adjusted. When he finally stopped, the torches threw shadows across his face, shielding him.
“Happy New Year, Harry,” Malfoy said, grinning.
*
Every situation can be altered in a single moment. McGonagall had spent an entire class discussing the power associated with the simple “swish and flick”. Magic, she had repeated over and over, is never simple.
Malfoy was still leaning against the wall, staring at him, and Harry could not control the familiar rush of electricity that twisted through his body. Sliding his hand into a pocket of his robe, he wondered if a wave of his wand could alter this into something else. Malfoy’s gaze dropped to follow Harry’s curious movements, and Harry closed his eyes… and relaxed his fingers.
*
It was infuriating to meet Harry this way. He knew how hard it was - for both of them. The entire situation was a recipe for disaster. Malfoy carefully watched Harry thread his fingers through his hair and glance away, his expression suddenly masked by a pocket of darkness.
The circumstances were always maddening and thrilling and it was all Malfoy could do not to break the silent agreement that he and Harry had somehow pieced together over the past year. Pulling in a breath, he pushed off the wall and whispered, “Follow me.” Then he turned around and began walking away.
*
Each encounter became more difficult than the last and Harry had to frequently convince himself that this moment - like any other - was simply that. A moment. It had no lasting effect on the goal he was desperately trying to accomplish, not even when he was pressed against a wall and Malfoy’s hot mouth was sliding down his neck. Not even when he ran his palm up Malfoy’s arm, pausing just below Malfoy’s shoulder
Malfoy’s fingers curled around the hem of Harry’s robe and tugged. Then he stepped inside the remote classroom and was instantly swallowed up by darkness.
*
The first touch was always the same, almost imperceptible. Harry wove a single fingertip up and down Malfoy’s left palm, drawing out words and symbols until their fingers finally slid together. After a quiet minute, he pulled free again and glided upward until his wandering hand barely skated over the soft skin of Malfoy’s forearm.
Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to scream, to kick things, to punch Harry firmly in the jaw. He was also finding it harder and harder to let go.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Harry softly on the mouth.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
Parts 5-8