Author's Notes: please vote for this fanfic at quilltoparchment dot com.
This is a quick one-off fanfic, inspired by the cover of the Kate Bush song, Hounds of Love by The Futureheads. I could just SEE Draco being chased through Hogwarts by Harry while this song played. (Draco's always been a coward, and doesn't know what's good for him! ;-)
Thanks to alleyflower for the beta read! Rewritten with her help, 24th May 2007.
Draco Malfoy sprinted down the Charms Floor corridor and into main stairwell at Hogwarts. He bounded down the stairs, leaping three at a time, as if the devil were after him. In Draco's mind, he was. An enraged Harry Potter was on his tail.
"Malfoy, get back here!" Potter's shout of fury was close behind, but Draco didn't dare look back. His face was frozen in a look of absolute terror and he concentrated on not tripping as he thundered down the stairs. He could hear Potter's rapid, heavy footsteps. It seemed impossible, considering Draco's head start, but Potter was gaining.
"Gracious me! What's all this about?" asked a random, bewigged man in a portrait, as they dashed past. Draco ignored him and pushed through a crowd of twittering first years, who had been heading up the stairs for a Charms lesson before Draco ploughed through them. Draco didn't worry about the occasional shriek as he pushed someone over. Fourth years, shouldn't worry about first years, Draco rationalised. He could hear the scrabbling of many small feet as the first years backed up against the wall and the stone banister to let Potter through and he could hear Potter apologising to them. Good! That should slow him down...
It really wasn't fair, Draco thought. Potter was so sensitive about his Mudblood friend being called exactly what she was. Couldn't Potter see what damage he was doing to his place in wizarding society by associating with a Mudblood and a Blood Traitor? Really, Potter should be thanking him instead of chasing him.
Draco thought, any minute Potter is going to catch me, like always...
And touch me...
And push me to the floor and lie on top of me...
And hurt me...
But at least he will touch me...
And I can make Potter touch me whenever I want, whenever I need it and just looking at him isn't enough anymore. All I need to do is call Granger a Mudblood...
I just wish Potter's touch didn't hurt quite so much...
"My, my!" purred a voice. Draco looked up as he ran, the perspiration running down his face and his silvery-blond hair stuck to his forehead. Rita Skeeter and her photographer were standing on the stairs ahead of him. Draco thought she was probably there to interview Triwizard champions but Draco didn't really care at the moment, he was more interested in saving his own skin. Rita pulled out her notebook and Quick Quotes Quill. "What's this? Harry Potter playing a game of Kiss Chase with a boy? Lovely!" she said.
Draco was too out of breath to speak. He dodged around the leering Rita Skeeter and heard Potter behind him doing the same thing a moment later. Potter was so close...
"Harry Potter, how long have you been interested in chasing boys?" sneered Rita Skeeter.
Draco heard Potter shout breathlessly, "This is NOT Kiss Chase!"
The vast, oak front doors of Hogwarts loomed up ahead and Draco slammed into them, pushing them open, without slowing down in the slightest. He sprinted across the lawns, towards the Forbidden Forest, not caring where he was heading. He was a hunted animal. All he knew was that his pursuer was close behind.
Far too close. "Locomotor Mortis!" came a shout. Draco's legs locked and he fell forward onto the grass. The force of his fall made him roll several times, and then Potter was lying on top of him, holding him down. He could see eyes as green as poison behind round glasses and feel Potter's hot breath on his face. "Gotcha, Malfoy!" said Potter with relish.
Lunchtime was nearly over, and there were many students outside, most of them walking back to the school, with bags slung on their backs. "Fight!" the cry went up and Draco found himself looking up, past Potter's furious visage, at a crowd of inquisitive faces.
Potter ignored his audience, so intent was he on the Slytherin below him. His face was contorted with rage. "You're going to apologise to Hermione for calling her a Mudblood, Malfoy, or I'll break every bone in your body," he snarled.
Draco heard footsteps, muffled by the grass. "Finite Incantatem!" Draco felt his limbs release but with Harry on top of him, he still couldn't move. "Harry, stop this! I don't care what he calls me," came Granger's despairing cry. She sounded very out of breath. Draco turned his head and saw the Mudblood, together with the Weasel, who was carrying Potter's school bag, running up to them. Behind them, Draco saw the welcome, lumbering figures of Crabbe and Goyle, who were carrying Draco's bag between them, and looked ready to drop with exhaustion after running all the way from the Charms corridor. Potter and Draco's friends pushed to the front of the crowd. Crabbe and Goyle leaned their hands on their knees and caught their breath. They were looking at Draco and he could see in their eyes that they were asking him what to do next. Stop Potter beating the stuffing out of me, seemed the obvious order. But Draco knew that his cronies were too exhausted by their chase, for the moment, to carry this order out.
"I won't stop until Malfoy apologizes, Hermione," snarled Potter. A drop of sweat dripped from his forehead into Draco's open, panting mouth. Draco tasted salt and didn't know whether to choke or cheer.
Before Draco could reply, a bright, smoky flash nearly blinded him. Rita Skeeter and her photographer had also pushed their way to the front of the crowd. "Will you two hold still for a moment and smile? This will look lovely on the front page of the Daily Prophet," the reporter said gleefully. "So how long have you been interested in chasing boys, Harry?" she repeated.
It seemed to occur to Potter what they must look like, with him lying on top of Draco and holding him down, as if about to tear his clothes off and shag him senseless. "I'm NOT interested in boys, Rita. Malfoy here called my best friend, Hermione, a name. I was only teaching him a lesson," shouted Potter. Draco could hear the frustration and horror in his voice and it amused him no end.
"So your boyfriend's name is Malfoy, and he's jealous of your girlfriend, Hermione?" smirked Rita. "Poor you, Harry. Are you cheating on her, because she cheated on you first with Viktor Krum?"
"Look! For the last time," roared Harry in a rage. "I'm not dating Hermione OR Malfoy..." His head was turned towards Rita and her photographer and he was distracted enough that his hands loosened on Draco's shoulders...
There was only one possible course of action open to Draco. He'd always prided himself in knowing his enemy's weaknesses and Potter had just revealed a massive chink in his armour. So Potter didn't like being associated with boys, did he? Draco grabbed Potter by his red and gold Gryffindor tie, the very colours abominable to a self-respecting Slytherin, and pulled him down and raised himself up at the same time. He could see Potter's head turning towards him, see that messy hair, and that thin, foul scar up close, before their lips met and Potter's brilliant, green eyes opened wide in shock. Draco hadn't realised how beautiful Potter's eyes were, or how soft his lips...
Potter broke the kiss with a choking gasp, but the damage was done. The Daily Prophet photographer had his front-page photo. Eyes almost popping out of his head with shock, Potter wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "You stuck your tongue in!" he wailed miserably, to general laughter and squeals. Rita's Quick Quotes Quill was already scribbling. Potter scrambled to his feet, standing over Draco with eyes as large and frightened as a stag caught in a hunter's spotlight. The whole crowd screeched and whooped with delight.
"Harry, no! Don't let him get to you!" shouted Granger. But Potter wasn't listening. He stared down and Draco could feel the tables turning. Now HE was the predator and Potter was the prey.
The Gryffindor stood, rooted to the spot, as Draco gracefully got to his feet. "You loved it, Potter," Draco gloated, leering at his trembling victim, and taking a step towards him. "Give me another kiss!"
The Gryffindor raised his fists in defiance, but as the photographer lifted his camera again, Potter lowered them. When Draco took another step towards him, his resolve broke, and he turned and ran. Draco sprinted after him, past his friends and Potter's friends, who turned and followed them, staggering with exhaustion.
Draco found it easy to keep up with Potter. The Gryffindor was sprinting, but his very panic was slowing him down, and he made a false step and slipped on the grass. Picking himself up again, Potter ran on. Draco followed, only a few footsteps behind, as Potter darted through the open front doors of Hogwarts and up the endless, shifting staircase. Occasionally Potter tripped over a stair in his panic and fell heavily.
"You two again!" sniffed the annoyed, bewigged portrait as they sprinted past.
Draco had only a vague idea where Gryffindor dormitory was, but he guessed that was where Potter was going - a place a Slytherin like Draco was not allowed. Potter was only metres ahead when they reached an ugly painting of a fat lady wearing pink and Draco clearly heard Potter shout the password, to the Fat Lady's great disapproval.
"There's a Slytherin right behind you and he heard!" she said priggishly.
"Please let me in," Draco heard Potter beg. "He's not allowed in here, and he's going to force himself on me if I don't get inside."
"Hmmm," said the portrait thoughtfully, gazing at Draco.
The Slytherin was only two steps away when she relented and the portrait creaked open like a door. Potter charged through the gap and Draco went to follow him, but froze. He knew endless detentions awaited him, if he entered the Gryffindor common room without permission. With frustration, he watched Potter escaping, running through his common room and up the stone staircase to his dorm room.
The painting began to close. Draco saw the Gryffindor pause at the door of his dorm, give him a mocking, triumphant look, and then turn away. Something snapped inside Draco and he charged through the door, just before it slammed shut behind him. He didn't care about the detentions. Potter was going to be HIS!
Draco ran through the red tapestried room, full of battered, overstuffed sofas, and stunned, exclaiming Gryffindors, up the stairs, into Potter's dorm. When Draco saw Potter lying, panting and completely exhausted, on one of the four-poster beds, he knew he had won. He scanned the dorm room. There was only one other person in here. Neville Longbottom was sitting on a bed, looking up in astonishment from his book about magic plants. "Harry, what's the matter ... MALFOY?" he exclaimed.
Draco pointed his wand at him. "Go!" he shouted.
"You're not supposed to be in here, Malfoy," said Longbottom timidly, but he cringed and ran for it.
Draco leaned back on the door, shut it, and locked it with a spell. Someone banged on the door and shouted, but the spell held. Now Draco was alone with Potter and could do what he liked. He figured he had only a few minutes until that pesky Mudblood turned up, worked out the spell and opened the door. Then a world of detentions and furious Gryffindors outside awaited. Until then, Potter was all his. He looked at Potter, who lay weak, wide-eyed and gasping on his bed.
He was worth it, thought Draco.
The Slytherin walked over, stroking his fingers up and down his wand, and watching Potter jubilantly.
"Well, go on. Do it then," snarled Potter.
"Do what, Potter?" drawled Draco.
"Whatever you're going to do. Hit me. Rape me. I can't stop you. Get it over with," Potter gasped bravely.
Draco paused. There were a myriad of things he had wanted to do to Potter, each more painful and humiliating than the last. How wonderful would it be to take Precious Potter down a peg or two? But Draco looked down at his fallen, helpless enemy and surprised himself.
"Aguamenti!" he said, pointing his wand at the empty glass on Potter's bedside table. "Have a glass of water, Potter. You look like you need it," Draco said, handing it to Potter.
Potter took it with a look of incredulous astonishment. "Is this poisoned?" he gasped.
"My parents didn't teach me any poisoned drinks spells, but I could learn some just for you, Potter," sneered Draco.
Potter stared suspiciously at the glass, but he was so hot and exhausted that even water charmed by his enemy looked irresistible. He took a cautious swig and paused a second as if waiting for poison to kick in. When it didn't, he drained the whole glass in one hit.
"Have a refill," Draco pointed his wand at Harry's glass. The Gryffindor stared at him as if he'd never seen him before, and took another sip.
When Harry had finished drinking, Draco was amused to receive a polite invitation to sit down, and he did so, close to Potter, who was still staring strangely at him.
"I've never been kissed by a boy before," admitted Potter shyly. He had caught his breath and no longer looked afraid. He blushed and admitted. "I've never been kissed at all before, actually."
"Did you like it, Potter?" asked Draco, secretly and strangely thrilled to have been Potter's first. Potter nodded shyly and to Draco's amazement, he leaned in, brave Gryffindor that he was, and kissed Draco back. It was a gentle kiss, the merest brush of lips, but it set Draco on fire and he kissed back, gently at first, then more passionately. His arms went around Potter and Potter's arms went around him and they lay down on the bed together. It was the gentlest, most tender, most arousing snog Draco had ever had.
The snogging was getting deeper and their tongues were touching, when there came a hammering on the door. "Harry!" cried the Weasel. "Are you all right in there?"
"He's put a locking spell on the door, Harry. Don't worry, I'll open it!" shouted Granger.
Potter broke the kiss reluctantly. "They think you're raping me," he said seriously. "I thought you were going to. Why didn't you?" They both sat up.
"You looked so cute lying there," said Draco. On second thoughts, Potter's eyes were not as green as poison. They were like the sun seen through forest leaves or a tropical sea. He found himself stroking Potter's cheek with the back of his hand. "Sorry I scared you like that." He winced at his own words. What had come over him? The Slytherins were going to kill him when they found out he hadn't tortured Potter.
"Thanks, Malfoy," said Potter quietly. "That was my first snog. I thought it was going to be a nightmare."
"Instead, you loved it," snickered Draco.
Potter smiled honestly. "I did," he said. The door clicked open, and Draco hurriedly spelled it shut again. Outside, a multitude of fists banged on the door and many voices shouted in frustration. Draco looked scared.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Potter, because it will be the last time you get to snog me. Your House is going to rip me to shreds once they get inside. Then if there's anything left, MY House will rip me to shreds when they find out I didn't hurt you when I had the chance," said Draco faintly.
Potter frowned. "Maybe there's something I can do for you ... I know!" he said. Abruptly, he undid his tie so that it hung either side of his neck, tore his school shirt open and mussed up his hair worse than ever with both hands. "Quick, Malfoy. Hermione's nearly got the door open again. Give me some love bites on my neck."
Draco obeyed with pleasure and amazement. He had an idea of what Potter had planned and it thrilled him, though not as much as sucking warm, dark bruises on Potter's throat. Potter groaned and the door opened. Gryffindors poured inside, with the Mudblood and the Blood Traitor in the lead.
Granger blasted them apart. "Impedimenta! Leave Harry alone!" she shouted, brandishing her wand at Draco.
But Potter groaned and panted theatrically and pulled Draco back into his arms. "Stop that, Hermione, I was just enjoying it!" He gave Draco a tiny, secret wink, then went back to playing the ravished, infatuated, thoroughly snogged Gryffindor champion to the hilt. Draco could tell he was over-acting, but judging from the way the Gryffindors froze and stared, they could not.
"Harry?" said the Weasel, his jaw dropping open.
"Oh God, Ron. Malfoy's such a good snog! Go away and give us some privacy!" cried Potter, covering Draco's face with kisses.
Malfoy extricated himself from Potter's embrace and got gracefully to his feet. "Now Potter," he sneered, playing along. "You knew this would never last!"
"Don't leave me, Malfoy! Stay and snog me some more, I beg you!" cried Potter tragically in such an overacted tone of anguish that Draco could not believe the Gryffindors were buying it and his opinion of them fell even lower. Potter threw both arms around Draco's waist in a submissive parody that nearly had Draco laughing. He stroked Potter's messy, black hair and smirked at the watching Gryffindors.
"My work here is done!" he said, theatrically straightening his green and silver striped tie, every inch the victorious Slytherin. He walked proudly to the dorm door, past hordes of astonished faces. The Gryffindors, who had stormed in, ready to beat the invading Slytherin to a pulp, could do nothing with their champion draped around the intruder, like a king with a pleading subject.
Potter followed Draco all the way down the stairs and through the common room. "PLEASE don't go," whined Potter. "At least take this with you, as a memento of our time together." He handed Draco his Gryffindor tie and winked. Draco winked back, took the tie with high-handed scorn, and shoved it into his pocket.
"Mr Malfoy," said an adult voice of such withering coldness that it was a wonder the Gryffindor common room didn't freeze over. Draco looked up and saw Professor McGonagall standing in the open doorway. She looked at the Gryffindors. "Get to your dormitories, while I deal with Mr Malfoy," she told them.
Potter gave Draco a reassuring smile before he turned around and left, with the rest of his House. Draco clasped his fingers around the tie in his pocket. He fondled the tie during his short but nasty private meeting with Professor McGonagall. (A month of Saturday night detentions for entering the Gryffindor House!) He was pale when he finally opened the portrait and stepped out into the stairwell.
A horde of Slytherins were milling about outside, searching unsuccessfully for the door to the Gryffindor common room. They cheered when they saw Draco. Faithful Crabbe and Goyle pushed to the front of the group, looking dim, and worried. They were still holding his school bag. Draco took it and draped it casually over his shoulder.
"How did it go, Malfoy? Did you snog Potter senseless?" asked Zabini excitedly.
Draco replied by smirking and pulling Potter's tie from his pocket. He draped it around his neck like a trophy. The joy of the Slytherins knew no bounds. They cheered, they hoisted Draco up on their shoulders and carried him back to the Slytherin common room in triumph. Draco let them do it but he felt strangely less victorious that he thought he should. All he could think of were Potter's green eyes and when he would see them again. He found himself clamming up at the questions about what he did to Potter, and the Slytherins were forced to interview Gryffindors, such as Pavarti Patil, who emerged from the Gryffindor common room the moment Professor McGonagall had stalked off, and was full of gossip about what she'd seen. The rumours grew in the telling and soon Draco found himself being asked if he'd REALLY tied Potter to his own bed and shagged him senseless, and did Potter REALLY follow him naked and begging on his knees out of the dorm.
No, thought Draco, in bed in the Slytherin dorm that night, and still holding Potter's tie. All I really care about is having a Kiss Chase rematch with Potter. He's welcome to chase me through the Slytherin common room into this bed, and reduce me to a thoroughly snogged state for real. Maybe tomorrow?
Author's Notes: please vote for this fanfic at quilltoparchment dot com.