This is Slash. In the sense of being about two boys, loving each other. Romantically. If you have an issue with this leave now. I am not making you read it. I do not have any power over you. Flame me? I will delete it. Simple as that. Thank you to those who leave me lovely reviews! I do send personal thank yous!

You must read the entire Talking In Circles series to get this.



I Am Miserable.

I want to kiss You.

Merlin but I want to kiss You so badly it almost hurts.

I want to feel my lips move against Yours,

I want to feel Your tongue invade my mouth.

I want to feel You take me in Your arms and hold me.

Just hold me.

I want to put my head in that crook just beneath Your solid sun-kissed jaw

And rest.



But I never will.

I just know it.

And honestly?

It Sucks.

We work together now.

You are teaching me how to defend myself from people.

And the only thing I want to know is if You taste as good as You smell.




Christmas Morning.

So now I have this obsession with Your mouth.


Your hips.


Your eyes.

Your cheek-bones

Your fore-arms Your hands. I am in love with Your hands.

(because I am far to scared to say that I am actually in love with You.)

I love everything You do.

The way You talk out of the side of your mouth when You're embarrassed.

The way You eat Your breakfast

(first eggs, then sausage, a drink of pumpkin juice, and then the hash browns)

I asked You once

Why you ate Your breakfast like that.

You gave me a funny look,

Commented on 'why' I knew that,

And said

"I hate cold eggs."

I should have stopped with the questions then.


I didn't.

I asked why You did certain things,

Why You caught the Snitch with Your right hand


Ate with Your left.

Another funny look.

"I don't know."

By the time I was finished with my twisted version of

20 Questions (and trade-mark)

You had this smile on Your face.

I got so mad at You

(at myself)

for that damn smirk

I got up to leave.

I didn't get far

You grabbed my arm and pulled me to You


"Leave me alone Harry."

No longer can I bring myself to call You Potter

(Unless in public or I am so angry I can't see straight.)

You are no longer Potter.

You are Harry.

"No Draco. I have to tell You something."

Even now I can still hear the Italicized and Pro-noun of Your reference to Me.


You smile again.

I jerk my hand away

Twisting my wrist in Your hand a breaking away easily,

Just like You taught me.

I move away again make for the door,


I feel so stupid

I should have stopped with

"Why do You eat all of the Berties Bott Beans even when You know some taste bad?"

I hear You give a frustrated growl.

You get annoyed

So easily.

You turn me around quickly and press me against the wall,

"Let go Harry."


Defiantly spoken

Like that of a six-year-old.

Damn You.

And then suddenly You are there

Against me

Your lips on me.

On my lips.

Your tongue tracing my mouth

And I can't think right

But I was right.

You taste of



Christmas Morning.

And in that moment