Title: Seeing Two Worlds

Author: Eris Mackenzie

Rating: R

Spoilers: None really, maybe a bit for HBP.

Warnings: Slash, m/m sex, overuse of the word "fuck".

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Harry's dreams lead him to take a midnight swim, where he meets someone he does not expect. (H/D slash)

A/N: I was going to make this a multi-chap, but I decided to stick with a one-shot this time. The lime was a bit of a surprise to me because Harry usually is the dominant in my stories, but in this one, he was the sub. I dunno, it just didn't feel right. I also usually do most of my stories in Draco's PoV, not Harry's, so this was a change. PoV's will change a bit during the course of the story, though. You'll be able to tell when I start using Draco's given name instead of his surname.

Also, this was a really cool one-shot for me to write, because Harry's dream at the beginning is actually mine. And yes, I was Harry, and all that happened. I can remember most of my dreams, and I assure you, the details were all there.

"Italics" -- parseltongue

"Regular" -- English


(dream sequence)

The soft whisper of a cool wind delicately kisses his cheeks and sweeps back his raven hair as a dark velvet voice speaks to him in dulled and muted tones, murmuring words of tender proportions and breaking desires that seemed to shift with the sands of night. The sharp crack of branches and the lines of the leaves are blurred and softened, making everything seem hazy, faint.

Slowly, he blinks, vaguely noticing for the first time that he is walking across the silence-prone grounds of Hogwarts, and wonders what he's doing there. He can feel that he's searching for something, but as he looks around, he knows not what. His steps make no sound as he glides across the dewy grass like a ghost, finally breaking through part of the haze surrounding his mind as he catches sight of the lake.

The glittering water is black in the moonlight, making it seem forbidding yet evocatively inviting at the same time. There is no sound, not even as he takes the first few inevitable steps in the water. Bit-by-bit, he immerses himself, teeth chattering as he does so. He doesn't know why he's pushing himself further and further under, but he knows that if he wants to find what he came here for, he needs to do this.

The water is colder than he imagined, instantly freezing his skin where it soaks through his clothes. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets himself sink under, the water fully overtaking him. He lets himself hang suspended in the murky water, which is suddenly not so cold. It's warm in fact, tingling. He frowns for a second--that can't be right--but the thought slithers away like all the rest.

He opens his eyes and the corner of his mouth comes up in a smile as he takes in the sight of a world of floating flora and crystal light. He catches a flicker of colourful movement out of the corner of his eye, and he wonders briefly why he can see clearer underwater than he can above, even with his glasses. Shadows glide across the stone and caverns of the lake around him, giving him a fleeting glimpse of the inhabitants below. It's peaceful here, he can feel it, but it's not what he's looking for. He has to search deeper for that.

Something compels him unquestioningly to swim farther down, striving, searching for something that he came for, something that he should know but aggravatingly can't remember. But it's precious, that much he knows. It's something he can't live without.

A faint burn in his lungs begins to increase as he swims inescapably, but he can't stop; he knows he's almost there. His ears pick up a barely audible voice he had heard when he'd walked across the grounds earlier; it's the same maddeningly evasive sound that he knows he knows but that he cannot, for the life of him, remember. But gods, he needs to get closer to it if it's the last thing he ever does.

He keeps swimming, arms and legs aching from the weight of his heavy clothing and lungs about to explode from lack of oxygen. He's so close though, he can feel it. Only a few more strokes...

Black dots dance their way across his eyes as he frantically swims, trying to reach his destination, trying to find what he wants back, what is his. Finally, his limbs cannot work anymore, and he hates what is happening and he can't just let himself fail because what he is looking for is worth it, and he just has to go a little farther, just a little farther, please…


He pushes back against the darkness curling around the corners of his mind frenetically, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't imagined it.

"Harry... you're almost there..."

There! He hadn't imagined it. He gathers the resolve he needs, forcing his muscles just to work a little bit more despite the screamingly obvious need for air. 'Please...' he silently begs his body.

And then, he saw it.

Or more precisely, him.

The beautiful blond is floating merely centimetres in front of him, smiling mysteriously through sandy lashes. Curiously, the other boy is shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of nearly transparent beige trousers. His body, though, is sleek and stream-lined, truly a sight of magnificence. Harry freezes; now that he's here, he doesn't know what to do; but to Harry's gratitude, the ethereal angel glides over to him with such ease and speed that if Harry were to blink his eyes, he wouldn't have known he'd even moved.

"Harry..." he whispers softly. Harry doesn't know what to say as he suddenly finds his face cradled in the palm of the blonde's hand. He tugs and, without a thought, Harry's lips come up to feel those of the blonde's against his. The pure feeling scorches his skin, and he opens his mouth, feeling the oddly electric sensation of another's tongue in his mouth, so unlike his own, and then gods, he's giving him back his life. He's breathing straight into Harry's lungs, and the brunet's head spins with the glorious feel of it as all the blood flows to his head in an adrenaline-fuelled rush.

"Draco," he murmurs softly against the other's lips. He doesn't even bother to wonder how he can speak. Indeed, he doesn't care as Draco slides his arms around Harry, pulling him close against his warm body, lips never once leaving his. Gods, this is heaven.

Suddenly though, the strong arms leave him, making him instantly cry out for them again. He's disoriented for a moment, trying to understand what was going on, and then he opens his eyes again to see that same smile, that same heart-breakingly sincere smile. Draco says something, but Harry can't hear him.

"Come find me, Harry," Draco whispers, silver eyes glittering more brilliantly than the wonder world around him.

With a lurch around his navel like a portkey, Harry finds himself quickly falling away from what he had just found. 'No,' he thinks fiercely, 'No, I can't lose him again!' But whatever forces controlling him does not listen, taking him farther and farther away from Draco. It's like he's tearing out a piece of himself as he falls into the dark.

"... come find me..."



With a jerk so powerful that he sat up straight in bed, Harry Potter awoke with a cry of defiance. Gods, he hurt so bad... why did it feel like he just lost something irreplaceable?

Tears stung his eyes as he blinked rapidly in the dark hours of the night, and he searched instinctively for the red numbers of the magically altered alarm clock that woke him every morning.

3:30 a.m.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, roughly pushing off the damp and sweaty covers. He looked down in surprise as he felt a fat droplet of moisture fall on his arm. Wiping wonderingly at the tears coursing down his face, he took a deep breath. Why was he even crying? He couldn't remember. He did know, though, that this dream wasn't about his parents' death, or anything he had dreamt about before for that matter. It was special, though he didn't know how or why.

Pushing himself out of bed, he quickly shoved on a pair of shoes, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he went over to his trunk and grabbed his swimming trunks and a towel, and walked out of the dormitory without so much as a second glance at the room's other sleeping inhabitants.

He was going for a dive.


By the time Harry got down to the physical activities area, he was beginning to think this was a stupid idea. A new train of physical education had started up at Hogwarts, resulting in the addition of a gymnasium and a pool, not to mention various obstacle courses in different rooms. However, the pool was just a floor above the dungeons, making it a non-too-popular spot for most of the school's students.

Skipping straight to the dressing rooms, Harry was surprised to find the candles already lit--which was strange as they only did that when someone else was up and about. Without stopping to think about it though, he quickly stripped and donned his swim trunks before walking out the door to the swimming pool entrance.

Sounds of slashing reached his ears as he neared the pool, and he paused at the corner to listen. Whoever it was, they sounded like they were doing laps from the rhythmic splashing echoing off the walls. He shook his head, wondering if maybe taking a swim wasn't such a good idea after all, but then Harry wondered absentmindedly if the other person couldn't sleep too. What could be the harm in going in just because another person was there?

He got his answer as soon as he rounded the corner, towel in hand, and the first thing he spotted was the white-blond hair.

Malfoy. Perfect. Just what he needed.

He slowed his walking, inching along the wall just in case if Malfoy were to look up and notice him. For some reason, Harry couldn't take his eyes off of the glistening toned body as it rippled under the water like an eel but was much, much better to look at. Harry watched as the Slytherin glided up to the edge of the pool and gracefully stood, hands already smoothing his hair back in place before his head even came up. The smooth ripple of Malfoy's muscles under his porcelain skin entranced Harry; why, he didn't know. He hated him after all... right?

'Of course,' Harry silently answered his own subconscious question, even as he watched Malfoy roll his shoulders and get ready to dive again. He was wearing silver swim trunks made of some type of shimmery material. It surprised Harry; he would have thought Malfoy would've worn black - not that he thought about what that git wore or anything.

However, when Malfoy dove back under the water in a single swift liquid motion, he looked anything but slimy to his mind. He looked, well, wet of course, but Harry noticed he swam much better than he flew. When he flew, he was always tense, like he was up there only because he wanted to win, and that was probably much of the reason. But as unnatural as he looked in the skies, he was the exact opposite of it in the water. In the water, he looked as enchanting as the mermaids themselves.

Just as Malfoy's head came up for air, Harry slipped, and despite his attempts to be as quiet as possible, he gasped before he caught himself on the tiled wall. Instantly, Malfoy spun around, eyes narrowing hatefully as he caught sight of who it was.

"Potter!" he spat as Harry righted himself. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I could ask you the same, Malfoy," Harry replied, irritation leaking back into his mind as he remembered exactly why Malfoy was a slimy git in the first place.

The Slytherin sneered, arms crossing against his bare chest. "What the hell are you doing here? Leave." He commanded spitefully.

"Why should I? It's not like you own the school." Harry snapped back before he could stop himself.

Malfoy opened his mouth angrily, probably to say something scathing in return, but Harry held up a hand, silencing him before he could say anything as he saw the look on Harry's face. "Please, Malfoy, I don't want to fight. It's too late -or early, I should say - and I don't feel like dealing with it right now." Harry sighed.

The blond boy was silent for a moment as he stared at Harry from head to toe as if working something out, and Harry could practically see the wheels churning in his head. Finally, slowly as if thinking hard about it, he said, "Fine... but stay on your side of the pool, Potter, or else."

Harry was tempted to ask, "Or else what?" but he kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't want to push his good luck (hah) after all. He simply nodded, feeling the other boy's eyes on him as he walked deliberately to the pool's ladder, careful not to slip on any more wet spots along the way. He didn't need to be embarrassed any more than he needed to be kept awake by dreams.

He put his towel down on the bench beside the wall, and set his glasses down on top of the fluffy material. His toes went in first, tentively testing the water, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was heated at just the right temperature to feel refreshing, but not to freeze someone's balls off before they got out. He slipped in quickly after that, letting the water slosh up to his midsection. He ran his hands through the water, splashing it on his arms and chest as he got used to it.

By now, Malfoy had stopped glaring at him, and was currently returning to his laps from one end of the pool to the other. Harry watched silently as he flipped under the water at one end without even coming up for air as he swam back. Harry wondered how on earth anyone could stay under so long with breathing.

He stayed silent for about fifteen more minutes, letting his body gradually get used to the water before he sunk under the water, engulfing him in weightlessness. Abruptly, all sounds were cut off, leaving instead a muffled silence. He opened his eyes, but everything was blurred blue. He felt like staying under forever.

Unfortunately, all too soon his lungs were yelling to him to get his arse up to the surface and breathe already, so he obeyed. The exhilarating rush of blood that came with his breath confused him for a second. Something about the feeling tugged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember.

He swam around the pool for a few more minutes until he finally got back to the shallow end and stood back up, the weight on his legs feeling much heavier than before. He turned his head to watch Malfoy finish up his Merlin-knew-which-numbered lap. He hadn't stopped since Harry came in.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry said softly as he surfaced just feet away from him. His back was to Harry, allowing him to follow the water droplets slid down his shoulders to the small dip of his lower back to make a small puddle. It was absurd how the tiny drops seemed to mock him.

"Ah, what do you want, Potter?" Malfoy groaned in irritation, slightly out of breath, as he turned around.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked softly, more gentle than he meant for his voice to sound. Why he was even saying anything, he didn't know.

Malfoy sneered as he placed his hands on his hips. "I'm here because I want to be, Scarhead. And don't think that you can scare me by threatening to tattle-tale, because just remember--you'd have to tell Dumbledore why you were out too."

"I wasn't going to even say anything like that," Harry said as he broke eye contact with the blond boy. "I just--why are you here? Couldn't you sleep?" He didn't know why in the world he was talking to Malfoy, much less asking him such a civil question.

Malfoy rolled his eyes heavenward, sighing. "Why do you want to know? Can't you just leave me alone for one god-forsaken minute and let me just swim in fucking peace?" The words came out more venomous than the blond boy meant, and he wasn't ready for the cracking, vulnerable tone that Harry spoke with.

"I-I just..."

Silence stretched on for quite a while before Draco noticed Harry wasn't saying anything, and when he glanced up, he was a bit shocked. Harry staring fixedly at the still-sloshing water, looking as if he were about to... cry?

"Potter?" Draco asked unsurely. When Harry didn't answer him, he frowned and moved closer, trying to see what was wrong all while pretending he didn't care. Harry's right hand was twisted into a fist in his hair, pulling the strands as he bit his lip. "Hey... are you okay?"

Something deep in Draco's chest twisted as Harry looked up, trying desperately not to let the tears spill over. Harry berated himself as he struggled to gain back control. This was ridiculous, why was he even crying? It's not like he was a hormonal girl on her period or something. Something in him was breaking, and he didn't even know what, and on top of it all, he was crying in front of the last person in the world he wanted to cry before. But, Merlin, he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop.

"I-I, I'm...It's okay. I really-I'm al-alright," Harry choked, stuttering uncontrollably as he tried to prove he was really okay. All of his efforts were in vain though as Draco sloshed even closer to him. He started laughing hysterically as he thought of how pissed off Malfoy would be if he knew how concerned about his enemy he looked.

Draco didn't quite know what to do at Harry's hysterical outburst, and he wringed his hands nervously as he looked back up at the green-eyed boy. Draco knew Harry most definitely was not okay.

"Potter, what... what's wrong?" he asked, voice hitching at the sight of someone he supposedly 'hated' breaking down in front of him. He wanted to do something to calm the other boy, but as soon as the thought drifted into his mind, he cut it off. He was already risking too much asking him what was bothering him.

Harry shook his head, stopping his laughter and hiccupping as the tears still did not stop. What was going on with him? "I-I'm okay, really. I just, I don't know why I'm c-crying. I just, um..." he trailed off as his face twisted up, his emotions taking a nosedive for the earth when he attempted to speak. He forced himself to go on despite the fact he knew how pathetic he looked, with tears, and probably snot, running down his face. "I just really... I-I don't kn-n-know..."

Draco reached out to Harry, mentally kicking himself for doing so before he was suddenly taken off guard by the other boy practically throwing himself at him. He staggered back, one arm flying around Harry instinctively. He managed to grasp the wall and haul them back up by twisting his entire torso and grabbing at the slippery edge. Draco winced as a muscle in his shoulder pulled a little too painfully, but he still got them upright.

"What - ?" He cut off as he looked down at the sodden black locks huddled into his chest, and he squeezed the arm he still had wrapped around Harry's back. He felt incredibly awkward (after all, this was the Harry Potter here), but hell, no one was there anyway; besides what could it hurt, right? He'd probably think it was a dream in the morning anyway.

Harry felt his face heat up as he snuggled even closer to his 'enemy'. He froze for a second as he felt Draco's other arm join the one already locked around his waist. He glanced up at the blond boy as he was pulled closer to the Slytherin, but he didn't even seem to know what he was doing. Hell, neither of them did. He buried his face in the water soaked nook of Draco's neck, feeling him shiver when Harry's lips grazed his pulse point.

Draco didn't say anything else as he held Harry. He tensed as he felt Harry's arms slide around his waist, but he didn't move away. Draco wasn't much into comfort, but he thought so far he was doing a decent job considering. Harry sniffed, and Draco squeezed him tight for a moment until the worst of the racking tremors had dissipated. The water between them made Harry's skin extra slippery, not to mention it conducted heat more, so it was (to say the least) an interesting sensation to Draco. Not that he was enjoying it or anything pervy like that; just that it was a new feeling to be holding the Boy Wonder in a pool half-naked. Draco blushed as he thought about what people would think if someone were to walk in there now and see them, but he shoved it away. The possibilities of that happening were next to zero.

Harry sighed as his tears finally started drying up, but they weren't all gone yet by any means. However, now that he wasn't concentrating on stopping looking like a blubbering idiot, he could feel the other sensations his emotions had been blocking out. Of course, along with these new feelings came the embarrassment of 1) crying in front of his school rival; and 2) being held by his second-ranked nemesis as he cried. He didn't know which one was worse--or that made the strangling, tight feeling in his chest turn warm and tingly.

He tightened his arms around the Slytherin's slim waist, absentmindedly wondering at whether the smoothness of his skin was hereditary or a result of the water. Either way, he heard the muffled inhale as he splayed his fingers across the small of his back, some of his fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of Draco's swim trunks. Curiously, to both his and (unbeknownst to him) Draco's wonder, Draco didn't say anything still as Harry subtly ran his index finger under the elastic and stroked the supple skin there gently, almost as if he didn't mean to. If anything, to Harry, Draco unknowingly encouraged it as he slid a hand onto Harry's neck and lightly tangled his fingers in the nape of his hair.

Harry turned his head even further into the crook of Draco's neck, lip brushing against his skin delicately as he moved. He marvelled at how everything he did seemed to have an opposite reaction in the Slytherin, even though it was obvious he didn't mean to. For example, every time he stroked the skin of Draco's hip, Draco would rub the back of Harry's neck faintly as if in a thank-you gesture. For some undetectable reason, Harry's mind got an idea, one that he didn't even register before he did it. He nudged his nose against the paper-thin skin of Draco's neck, and then, just as Draco ran his other hand up his back, he pressed the softest of kisses to the wet skin.

For a moment--as Draco tensed and moved as if to push away--Harry was scared that Draco would pull away and hit him, or worse, somehow find a way to make sure the entire school knew what he did. What if the whole school ended up thinking he was gay and then it spread to the whole of the wizarding world that Harry Potter was a fag? Harry felt sick at the thought. He almost wished he hadn't done it, but it was too late to take back anything.

After a few tension-filled seconds though, Draco did the most unexpected thing--he relaxed and, to Harry's amazement, hugged him even closer. Taking this as a positive sign, (and breathing much easier than before) Harry was filled with a warm glowing sensation, very contradictory to what he had been feeling just moments before.

Cautiously, he pressed his lips to his neck again, but Draco just ran his fingers through Harry's hair, giving Harry the go-ahead. Silently cheering, Harry let his body go with his whims, kissing a trail from the base of Draco's neck to the sensitive spot he found just behind his ear.

"Potter... what are you doing?" Draco murmured, although he couldn't have cared much either way as his eyes were closed.

Harry didn't stop what he was doing as he breathed, "I don't know, do you want me to stop?" in Draco's ear.

He hesitated as he waited for the Slytherin's answer, which he was thrilled to hear was an uncertain, yet decided, "No." Harry melted at the uncertain tone of Draco's voice, and he pressed a soft kiss to Draco's jaw before he waited for Draco to open his eyes. When he did, Harry smiled at him shyly before he slid his hand up to Draco's chin and tilted it down to gently kiss his lips.

It wasn't too different from kissing a girl, yet it was a phenomenally dissimilar experience. The softness of Draco's mouth was balanced out by Harry's own deliciously chapped lips, making it seem all the better. The sharp, flat planes of Draco's body were mirrored exactly by Harry's, allowing him to push closer than with a girl, whose unseemly curves always somewhat put him off.

The Gryffindor slid his lips against Draco's for a few close mouthed kisses. Draco's lips were so soft that they almost clung to Harry's as he pulled away, only to attach himself to the Slytherin again. He heard the barely audible whimper Draco made as Harry deftly opened his mouth and slid his tongue out along the bottom of the blond's lip, silently begging for entrance, yet allowing Draco to know that he could still back out. Within seconds however, Draco had opened his mouth, allowing Harry's supple tongue to toy with his own in a languid dance.

Harry was pushed back against the cool tiles of the pool wall, and he put a hand on the walking floor to steady himself all the while pulling Draco closer to him. The chilliness of the tiles just made Harry more aware of the warmth of Draco's body though, and the water sloshing between them made the gentle skin-on-skin contact tingle intensify more and more.

Harry broke off in a breathless moan, throwing his head back as Draco sucked his way down his neck to the knob of his shoulder. The taste of chlorine in Draco's mouth soured the subtle flavour of Harry's skin, but after a while, it was washed away by the headiness of Harry's sweat. it seemed to the two boys that the water in the pool was steadily getting warmer, though it could have been just the heat of the moment.

"Mm... Draco," Harry whimpered past partially closed lips as he bit down on them to stop more sounds of pleasure to escape.

Draco's hips bucked against Harry's in a faint rhythm as Harry moaned; the Slytherin couldn't deny the jolt of heat that shot through him at the sound of his given name spilling from Harry's lips. "Say it again," he whispered as he pushed closer to Harry, smashing him between his own body and the wall.

"Draco..." Harry sobbed breathlessly, the word said like a prayer on his lips. His hips pushed back at Draco's, gaining tempo with every thrust.

In reaction from Harry's exclamation, Draco buried his head in Harry's shoulder, loving the low-throated moan that came when he bit down on the soft skin. His cock twitched as Harry ground out against him desperately, searching Draco's fiery touch.

Draco had no idea what was going on, but every moment of it was intense, as the concentration of their thrusts got more and more forceful, making Harry bit back groans as he was slammed against the unforgiving stone wall, where it was sure to leave bruises on his hips and back in the morning.

"Oh, fuckkkk..." Draco groaned as their erections ground together furiously. The material of his swim trunks was thin, but not thin enough as he pressed harder against Harry, wanting to feel his flesh there, not some piece of cloth.

He pulled away and Harry cried out for him to come back, but he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his trunks and slid them off easily. He threw them and heard them land with a splotch on the tiles behind Harry. Now entirely naked, the water hit his skin directly, making him shiver for a moment as he pulled off Harry's swim trunks too. Harry made no movement to push him away, instead he helped Draco take them off, and as soon as they were gone, Harry jerked Draco to him with such a force that Draco couldn't hold back the enthusiastic cry as their bare cocks hit each other, rubbing so feverishly that it made Draco want to go insane.

"Yes..." Harry hissed in parseltongue. Draco's whole body shuddered against his at the sound of the raspy, sensuality-dripping word.

"Say something else, please," Draco begged, sliding his hips against Harry's as quickly as he could in the water.

For a moment, Harry didn't say anything, not knowing what to say. But as Draco grunted in frustration and nipped at his neck in blind instinct, Harry gave up trying to think and just said what came out of his mouth.

"Fuck, Draco, gods... I've wanted this for forever. And now when I finally get the chance to tell you, I have to say it in parseltongue because I'm too fucking embarrassed to say it out loud, and--MERLIN, do that again--oh, fuck, I can't stop this and I don't even know if I want to because you're sliding against me so fucking hard and I just want you to fuck me here and maybe, maybe you could do more than fuck me, maybe you could like me--love me. But tomorrow, I know you'll get up and think it was a dream and sneer at me when you pass by and call me names like "Scarhead" and "The Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died". Fuck, Draco, maybe I should have died. I know I would have died any day if I could feel this."

"Oh, fuck, Harry, yes, yessss... " Draco whimpered, thrusting into the hand Harry had slid between their bellies to wrap around Draco's throbbing member. Harry bit into the soft skin of Draco's bottom lip, bruising it in the process, but Draco didn't care. Not as long as Harry didn't stop talking.

Harry's voice increased in volume and tone as he went on, getting desperate, so desperate, for Draco to understand, yet so scared that he would. "And everyday I watch you and wish you were mine, and you walk past me and give me a look that tells me that I'm below you and not even worth your attention, and I know I'll never get to have you. Maybe this is a dream because you can't possibly be moaning my name, not mine, like it's the last word you'll ever say. You're beautiful, you know that? You're a fucking angel."

"Ahhh..." Draco cried, feeling his balls tighten uncontrollably, starting a slow-moving heat that spread through his hips with every word Harry said. He didn't know why he was so aroused by the sound of Harry speaking, but it was the most erotic thing he had ever heard. However, thrusting into Harry's hand just wasn't going to work for much longer...

"Harry, wait!" Draco commanded as the Gryffindor took a breath to go on. Harry did as Draco asked and stopped, chest heaving against Draco as he restrained himself. Such abrupt halt of movement drove Harry crazy, but the anticipation when Draco slid his hand behind him was enough to make up for it.

"This is gonna feel weird," Draco muttered low as he squeezed one of Harry's arse cheeks. "Are you okay with it?"

Harry grabbed Draco's chin and force-fed him his tongue. "What the hell do you think?" he gasped. The uncertain look in Draco's eyes vanished to be replaced with a molten desire so intense it was all Harry could do not to cum right then and there.

Draco nodded once and watched the look in Harry's eyes as he spread his arse cheeks and pushed in one of his fingers, feeling the tight sheath of muscles tense then pull him in. His eyes nearly crossed at the thought of what it was going to feel like having Harry's tight, pulsing muscles surrounding him when he pushed in his cock.

"Ah, Draco, more, please..." he hissed, knowing Draco couldn't understand him, but the Slytherin knew enough to understand what he wanted despite that fact as he added two and then three fingers. Draco hefted Harry up using both hands to allow Harry to wrap his legs around his waist. Just as Harry settled back, Draco's fingers sunk just that little bit deeper and Harry cried out wildly as he found his sweet spot.

"Gods! Do that again!" Harry cried in English, pushing himself against Draco's hand if only to get him deeper.

"I have a better idea," Draco murmured, as he gazed at the lustful sight before him. His voice so full of passion that it made Harry whimper with need.

Whispering a waterproof lubrication spell using the wand less magic Hogwarts had made them learn earlier that year, he slicked the inside of Harry's rectum with the fingers he already had buried in him. He heard Harry give a gasp at the jolt of cool jelly, but he soon got used to it as Draco continued stroking. It made him harder than ever now that the Slytherin's fingers move without hindrance. As achingly wonderful it felt to be finger-fucked by Draco Malfoy, Harry needed something significantly bigger.

"Please, Draco!" Harry gasped in the blond's ear. His muscles were shaking with tension, making Draco hold him all the closer.

Nodding his head and panting, Draco hoisted Harry up just the slightest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear--something he'd never done with anyone before--and then he slowly pushed the head of his cock in.

He froze as Harry tensed, but within moments, Harry gave him a nod to let the full of his weight drop on Draco's member. When he did, Draco slid in root-deep. The feeling was so absolutely powerful that he wanted to cry, the sensation of being engulfed in Harry too much to handle. Finally though, the feeling wore off enough for Draco to start moving and he thrust in and out as gently as he could manage in his fevered state.

Within moments, Harry was near sobbing as Draco pushed in and out fast and hard, angling his cock to hit Harry in just the right spot each time he thrust in. The water around them made a harsh slapping noise as they smacked against each other, hips moving without any needed consent as their brains completely shorted out from the mind-blowing sensation of their fucking.

The inevitable orgasm they both knew was approaching, and approaching rapidly, could not be put off, but they pressed against each other harder, more intense, Draco digging deeper than before, each wanting to get under the other's skin before the final mind-shattering blow came.

All too soon, Harry felt the fragile line holding him together start to fray, and finally it broke with a world-rocking bang. Harry screamed, pulling Draco in to the hilt, muscles pulsing rhythmically, and Draco followed, crying out long and hard, milky white semen spurting white-hot inside of the Gryffindor. If someone were to have heard, they would have thought the two wizards were dying--but then, maybe they were.

"Draco, Draco, Draco…" Harry panted, letting his head fall forward onto the Slytherin's damp shoulder. His chest heaved with every inhalation and pressed closer to Draco's momentarily. He shivered as the very last ripples of pleasure ran through him. Draco was still snug in him, his cock now limp, but for all the world, he didn't want to lose that feeling.

Semen swirled around them, and it painted a dirty, yet so profoundly right picture. Harry closed his eyes, a feeling so much deeper than sadness or regret slowly wrapping around his insides and squeezing. Oh, gods, he didn't want to let that go. He didn't want to lose the feel of the baby soft skin underneath his, the beautiful small sounds that Draco made when he spoke on the verge of falling, the safe feeling Harry got when he was in his arms that he'd never known before. He didn't want Draco to leave him again. But he would.

Slowly, he unwound his arms from Draco's neck, Draco's cock slipping out easily, and settled his feet back on the ground. He felt Draco's arms go slack and finally let him go as he pulled away. He wished it was different than how he knew it was going to end. He wished this was more than once. He suddenly hated that word. 'Once' sounded so final and already past; it was a word people used when they gave up. Once was another word for a one-night stand.

He found himself laying his hands on Draco's bare chest and for a moment he envisioned himself sliding his hands up to cup that beautiful face and kissing those treacherous lips, but instead he pushed Draco back and away. He didn't look up for fear that he would see the tears stinging his eyes for the third time that night. He knew Draco didn't want nor care, not about him. It was for the best that they both forgot about it, if only for Draco's sake.

He swished back to the ladder silently, Draco following behind after a few seconds. He climbed out, no longer embarrassed about his nakedness as he bent down to pick up his towel and swim trunks he had discarded earlier. He was tired, more tired than he'd ever been in his whole back-breaking life.

An aura of awkwardness, and somehow wonder, surrounded Draco as he picked up his own trunks. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the suddenly dejected brunet. Quite frankly, as little as he'd thought about it, he had expected the Gryffindor to run off in a huffy, and then not speak to him for days as if they could ignore something like this. What he didn't expect this quiet anguish that seemed to permeate the young man as if he'd just killed his only friend.

"Hey, Potter, are you okay?" Draco could have kicked himself as he caught the miniscule wince Harry made when he heard Draco refer to his last name again.

"I'm fine," he answered softly as he turned his back on Draco so he wouldn't see any more of his pain.

He led Draco back into the dressing rooms and heard the door shut with a muted click behind them. Grabbing his clothes and watching Draco do the same--albeit a bit more slowly--he dried himself and quickly tugged on his clothes, sparing no time to even dry his hair in his haste to get away before the dam holding him back broke again.

He was just about to open the door to run back to his dormitory when a hand caught his arm.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked quietly, eyes catching how Harry immediately looked down to avoid his gaze.

"Dorm room," Harry answered, still avoiding looking at Draco at all costs. However, that didn't work for long as he felt Draco's hand under his chin forcing his head up.

Draco stared at him inscrutably for a long while, and Harry started to fidget under his scrutiny before he asked, "What's wrong?"

Harry wanted to snort in derisive laughter at Draco's seemingly concerned question, but he didn't. Draco was being serious after all. "Nothing."

Draco's face screwed up in a scowl which, as soon as he saw Harry looked down again shamefully, he wiped off his face. "Hey…" he said softly, cupping his palm against Harry's cheek tenderly. "Really, I want to know what's wrong."

"What isn't?" Harry asked, his voice barely audible. "But it's okay… I won't bother you again, I promise. I know you don't want to be bothered with me; it's alright." He went on in a frighteningly calm voice, "When we leave, I know that we'll just both pretend this didn't happen, and that's okay." Draco mentally winced; did he really think him that cold? "After all, it is what you want."

Draco didn't say anything, and Harry turned to leave, tears rushing back now that he wasn't facing Draco, but then his voice stopped him.

"Who says that's what I want?"

The words rang out clearly, bouncing off the tiled walls to hit Harry's ears. The Gryffindor's steps halted, and Harry's breath caught in his chest. Surely he was imagining things. But when he turned around, he saw the determined, but completely honest look on Draco's face.

"What do you mean?"

Harry's voice trembled as he allowed a glimmer of hope to shine through his thoughts. 'Don't get your spirits up,' he warned. Draco saw the hesitance in Harry's stance and walked closer, nervousness in the form of butterflies swarming in his stomach.

"What I mean is that maybe-maybe I don't want to just forget about it…" he admitted, chest tightening at the look of disbelief in Harry's eyes as he regarded him. He walked closer, dropping the towel he was holding in his hand on the bench. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that none of this ever happened--and I don't just mean us having sex," he added, "But what I do know is that what happened wasn't bad--well, it was in a way, but in a good way, you know?" Harry just stared at him as his brain tried desperately to comprehend what he was telling him. "And maybe you don't think the same way as me, but well, that, um, er, that is…" He trailed off as he realised he was rambling. Harry was still staring at him with something akin to amazement and doubt.

Draco suddenly got an idea. Flashing back to when they were only eleven years old, Draco held out his hand and said, "My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

For a second Harry just gawked at him, and Draco felt really stupid, but then the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen graced Harry's face. He grasped his hand, and Draco wasn't prepared for the jerk as Harry pulled him back towards him and caught him in his arms.

"Hello Draco," Harry breathed against his lips, eyelashes lowered impishly. The mood in the room suddenly changed. Draco shivered. "My name's Harry Potter, can I be your hero today?"

Draco leaned forward a few scant millimetres and pressed a soft barely-there kiss on Harry's open lips.

"Already are, love, already are."

The End.

A/N: The ending is rather abrupt, but I couldn't help it. I kind of like it actually. Tell me what you think!