I Can Feel You All Around Me

Disclaimer: J.K. is a Goddess. Considering I still have to do my homework, I'm not a Goddess. Therefore, I don't own HP. Also, I don't own Flyleaf.

Warnings: AU, HP/DM slash, some Confused!Harry, healthy amount of smut, kinda fluffy, tons of sap, a bit of OOC on two counts, and a tiny tad of angst. Forgive me my pleasure in having Draco think he's not loved... One-shot, peoples!

A/N: This was my first slash sex piece, and it desperately needs a beta. I've gotten a bit better, but I can't change this without making it worse. It moves too fast and is short, choppy, and annoyingly awkward near the end. I suck at dialogue, too, so that's also an issue. If anyone wants to help, please do. I need it. Title snagged from Flyleaf's song, All Around Me.

Remember, this has sexual content. Draco and Harry have sex here, guys, and it goes into a bit of detail. You've been warned, so don't blame me. Don't like, don't read.

It all started in fourth year I believe. When that cow Chang turned down Harry for a Puffleduff to go to the Yule Ball with. I was on my way to send home a letter in the Owlery when I saw him. Chang had left, and he was alone. I decided I'd get some teasing time in, so I stepped forward, ready to give my best. And I noticed he was crying.

Don't ask me why; I still don't know myself, but in that moment, I felt like someone had shaken the ground out from under me. Since when did I feel sympathy for Harry? And when did he stop being Potter? Again, I have no idea, but I realized something: No longer did I wanted to upset him, antagonize him, or otherwise try to provoke him. I just wanted to try and help him, like the friend that he never agreed to be to me.

I never told anyone, but when he refused my offer of friendship in First year, it really hurt. I'd wanted to be his friend, not because of who he was, but because of the way he just shone with inner light that I was envious of. He had individuality; I only had my manufactured copy of Father's arrogance. So, I suppose I treated him like scum after that because I was jealous.

But even then, the Malfoy dignity ruled out, and it only made me angry at him. So, now, I was accepting that I was jealous of him, but I'd already unconsciously decided what I was going to do. So when Harry looked up and saw me, expecting brutal tormenting, I only handed him a handkerchief and sent my owl before leaving him be.

Later, back at the castle, I called a House meeting and spent over two hours convincing the bullies of Hogwarts to leave Harry alone. I made them believe that if we ignored him when he was expecting sarcasm, it would hurt him more, considering he usually did have snide comebacks. Definitely not brilliance on my part, but it worked well enough for my purpose.

Of course, no amount of cajoling, threatening, or otherwise bargaining got them to agree to leave the rest of the Gryffindors, besides Granger and the Weasel, alone. That wasn't easy either.

Harry seemed shocked as days passed and none of the Slytherins said a word to him, mean or otherwise. He confronted me some time after Yule and asked me what was going on. All I told him was that he wouldn't be bothered again if I could help it, and left. I avoided him after that, and summer came.

Every single bloody night I dreamed of Harry. How his eyes looked filled with tears, his elation at flying, and even the way his hair is always so messed up. Everything. It's hard not to get an odd opinion about someone if they're always on your mind.

But the dreams never got anywhere sexual until the summer before Sixth year. In Fifth year we came to a truce: I, and on my behalf, the rest of the Slytherins left him and his friends alone, and he became polite. Never anything out-of-the-way nice, but still. I just more or less ignored him, unless I had to pay attention of course, and the year went by quickly.

Then came that summer, and with it the awful dreams. Or wonderful, depending on your views. Every night I either woke with a problem down below causing a tent in my pyjamas or a sticky mess in my boxers. That got old quickly.

I'd accepted that I was gay before, so it wasn't that that bothered me. It was just the fact that it was Harry; I had always wanted his friendship, but now, obviously more, too. I suppose I wanted him to care for me the way I cared for him. But then it hurt so much knowing that I was such a bastard to him for years, and there was no going back and changing it. That bothered me.

At school in Sixth year, I avoided him even more. I'd never be in the same room with him, aside from classes when I'd sit in the front, as far from him in possible. It wasn't that he revolted me or anything, it was that I didn't want to see the physical version of what I dreamed about for a whole summer.

He tried to talk to me, like he wanted to be friends. To me, though, I really didn't deserve it. I guess the Malfoy pride was diminishing, and leaving in it's place the person I'd always been hiding: Myself. And I didn't think I deserved the forgiveness of Harry, even if the other Slytherins were slowly losing faith in my leadership skills and depth of ability to torture "Gryffindorks" and "Puffleduffs" into insanity anyway.

That year passed, and that summer, the dreams were still there. Talk about dreaming yourself to death. I hardly ate, and probably lost 15 pounds. All I wanted to do was sleep and dream because I knew my dreams would never come true; this was as close as I was getting to the Golden Boy.

Back at school for the our final year, things weren't too great for me. The other Slytherins avoided me like the Plague, and the Professors stopped calling on me in class because I'd never answer properly. I picked at my meals, and barely kept up with the whole Malfoy persona at all. I probably looked like shit.

Even then, Harry kept up his persisting at catching my eye and making me blush. I had it bad for that Gryffindor.

One day, a non-particular Friday before Winter Break, that same Gryffindor found me walking back to the dungeons alone from the library. He dragged me to an empty classroom nearby, since I was honestly in no condition to fight back, and threw me up against the closed, silenced, and heavily warded door.

"What the hell is going on with you?! Why will you not pay attention to me?" Harry growled, still holding me up by my collar.

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't stop the whimper that fell from between my lips. "Leave me alone." I was on the verge of tears, and struggling weakly. All this because of my sad attempts of making Harry happy that, if looks were anything to go by, hadn't worked. Pathetic, right?

I'd left Harry alone because I thought he wanted it. I made the Slytherins leave Harry alone because I thought he wanted it. Hell, I left Gryffindors in general alone because I thought it was what Harry wanted, and everyone knows that no one can throw verbal punches like me. Or like how I used to.

And I certainly had no intentions of telling Harry I loved him, and was doing it to make him happy, no matter the cost to my own health, because I know he'd never want to hear that. No intentions of ever telling him, really.

Well, even with my less than adequate response, he shockingly dropped me. I just slumped there on the floor at his feet, not having the will-power to move, and not wanting to waste any more of my strength. I hadn't eaten in some time, and I sort of wanted to be back in my dorm before I collapsed.

"Look at yourself: you're so skinny." Harry quietly states. "It's not healthy. I'm surprised you can even walk on your own." That wasn't what I was expecting after he'd been angry a few moments before. At the best I thought he would yell, at the worst, I thought he'd poke fun at my brimming eyes.

So I just shrugged. "It doesn't matter." And it didn't. Harry was the one who had to save the world. Harry is the one who I love. He matters. Who cares about me? But it shouldn't surprise me, really. He is the Boy-Who-Lived, a noble Gryffindor, and I guess only he could and would care about his rival. Funny, but it still made me feel a little special.

"Of course it matters, Draco. You're a person just like everyone else." He's says it quietly, but it really shocks me: he called me Draco. Not even any Slytherins called me by name anymore.

And he's sitting there in front of me. Not six inches from me. I'm mesmerized by the way his hair falls over sideways. I blush, and just then realized he was saying something to me.

"Huh?" Great. Really eloquent there, genius. Bloody wonderful. Smooth going, not even listening to him, just staring at his hair.

"It matters. Because you matter." He repeats, swiping a tongue over his lips to wet them. I've given up on being surprised by anything he says, but now I'm staring at his beautiful full lips. I just know my eyes have glazed over, and my hands are getting sweaty from the effort of not leaning forward those six inches and just kissing the man.

Because I know that if I do, everything will be ruined. He'd easily shove me away, get really pissed, probably hex the shit of me, beat the rest of the shit out of me, and then gladly hate me forever. I also knew that I couldn't live with that. With his ignorance of my love, I could survive, but not with his hate. Never.

But it doesn't stop me from wanting it. Badly. I lick the drool threatening to fall, and hope it wasn't noticed before actually looking at his eyes. Such gorgeous emerald eyes. Such emotional eyes. Lovely.

"Ok, I'll start eating. Better?" I drag my mind out from behind the bushes to finally answer his question.

"Not really, Draco." he sighs. Again, I'm surprised. Maybe I'd convinced myself that it was just a slip or something. But Merlin! I was almost crying a moment ago, and now I'm having the hardest time not throwing myself at him and begging him to shag me into the floor. Mood swing much?

"I really do want to know why you called the Slytherins off," here he smiled, "It was really nice."

"I just thought you'd save the world better if you didn't have to worry your pretty little head over interesting remarks to counter ours." Did I really just call his head pretty to his face?! I can't believe it. Me and my big mouth. Maybe he won't notice. No such luck; he's grinning his arse off, and I know what about. I'm just glad he doesn't think it was sarcastic.

"They gave you a lot of trouble," I stare at the floor, "But then, so did I." Now, I just wait for his agreement.

"Like I said, it was really nice. And you've changed. So it doesn't matter. Thank you, Draco." Wow. I don't think I deserve that, but I can't help but notice that his eyes are shining so wonderfully bright. I'm pathetically besotted.

"Why do you call me Draco?" I honestly want to know, and I worked up the courage to ask.

He gives such a huge, mega-watt smile that I can't help but smile back. "Because you're my friend, of course!" It really lifts my heart to hear that. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Harry holy-bloody-fucking Potter leaned in those oh-so-scary six inches to plant his lips over mine. My eyes reached the size of a house-elf's, and I was too shocked to do anything.

When he leaned back, he was still smiling, but he was looking a little of unsure of himself now. His voice is still strong, though and smouldering with pent up lust. "You want this, Draco. I know you do. I've seen the way you look at me."

Damn Gryffindor's courage at the same time I praise him for passing on that bravery; I'd never have ever touched Harry if it wasn't for that. I nodded, swallowing hard.

The second time he kissed me, I was ready. Or as ready as I was ever going to be. I kissed him back hungrily, wanting to taste every bit of that molten heaven at once. Then, we fell back, still attached at the lips, as Harry became more bold.

When I felt his tongue asking for entrance, which was quickly granted, I moaned softly, and time became unimportant.

From then on, the passage of moments was measured in the hands of fire trailing down my quickly bared skin. On how fast our shirts were ripped from our bodies to leave our bare chests brushing. On the soft sighs and grunts that both of us soon lost track of which came from who. The trouser fastenings being jerked open to find a bit of relief as the boxers followed. I remember the silence breaking with softly uttered spells, and the feeling of his fingers slowly moving into me. When he finally deemed me ready, which was long after I had, he pressed into my willing body, and I lost it. My wildest fantasy was coming true, and I wanted him so badly it hurt. Literally.

I eventually learned what the saying 'seeing stars' is all about as my vision spotted with white light behind my eyes, and both Harry and I found our pleasure. Then, moments later, when I had came back down from my high to grip reality and found that he'd laid me on my side, facing him, and I was staring into his beautiful emerald eyes.

And it was there, looking into those wonderfully expressive eyes, the eyes I wanted to look into for the first time, and yet the hundredth time, that I spoke again. "I love you." I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out while I was staring over at his still sweat-slicked body, basking in the afterglow. But I meant it, with all my heart.

"I know. I love you." I certainly didn't expect it. But I know it's true. Just like tonight is true. His eyes are full of that love, and I know that I'd do anything to make sure his eyes never change. It felt like coming home.

A/N: So, what do you think about it? Remember, suggestions are most welcome. Comments, too! For the record, though: Gryffindork, Puffleduff...that's Draco making fun of the other Houses. It sounded like something he would do to me. Just to stave off any confusion.

I had this edited a lot more, but I saw several stories with really explicit sex, and I was like 'Screw it. It's not that graphic anyway.' and I put up a version with some more detail. I'm not really expecting any flames, and my ass is covered by that hefty disclaimer/warning anyway, so enjoy.