Chapter 1: Just feel it.

It was one of those times. One of those times when his head was boiling with anger, when the sarcastic smile of the blond boy seemed to be the most infuriating thing in the world. It was always like this lately. Malfoy picking up stupid fights with him, him losing control and charging for the imposing Slytherin, mind lost in rage and some kind of need Harry could not actually put his finger on. Then hands would catch him before he even touched the other, leaving him trembling with feeling, unable to grab Malfoy and tear that smile off his face.

Rage. Devouring, scathing rage. Poison that could melt everything if it dripped out of him. Late at night, when the anger would settle, fear would catch up with him. Malfoy really shouldn't bother him this much. And then he rediscovered the Mirror of Erised in the same back corridor he had found it some years back. And his fear turned to something else.

Now the blond slender boy in front of him was nothing but a blur. The insults were just noise. He went for Draco's neck. The blond tried to avoid him, but seconds later he was pushed into the wall. A crowd was gathering in the hallway, as the two boys tried to hurt each other by every means available.

Draco pushed hard, and Harry stumbled and fell to the floor, pulling him down on top of him. The blond grabbed Harry's mane, pinning him to the floor with just the force of his grip as he stood on his knees avoiding contact with the body under him. Harry cried out in pain and Draco's smile returned.

"Only girls squeak like that, Potter. Or am I messing your hair?" the Slytherin spat and the crowd burst in appreciative laughter. Harry reached out and grabbed one golden lock ,pulling Draco down to him. Malfoy's cry was louder that it should be. "Only girls pull on hair to begin with, you jerk!" Harry yelled and they both let go, as Harry topped the other and pinned him to the floor, concentrating on keeping the snake in place. Draco fought back, but stopped as he sensed a weird tension in the air around him. He opened his eyes to gaze upon a panting Harry Potter, as hungry green eyes wandered his form. There was something so brutish about the Gryffindor that some part in him stirred to the stare. He had turned Harry Potter to a fucking savage. He sneered. Harry looked up into his eyes at the sound, and lost control over the blond.

With a thump, Harry was flat on his back again. The people that had gathered were looking at each other curiously by now. Something was not quite in place. Draco pressed his body on Harry's and the raven haired boy gave out a whimper. "Am I making you hard, Potter?" the blond breathed in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear. Harry's eyes shot open.

He pushed back with all his strength and released himself from the Slytherin's grip. He cast one last glance at a widely grinning Draco and made his way out of the crowd.

As a matter of fact, everything Malfoy did made him hard lately. His instincts flooded his head, burned his skin and commanded his body. He was craving for the man he hated most. He was burning for him. Wanking off for him. Imagining what his white divine skin would feel like under him, what noises he would make when fucked hard against the desk of the potion classroom...

No no no no. Not again.

He could not deny himself release. And there was only one way to do this right. He took the familiar corridor that led to the Mirror of Erised, the mirror Dumbledore had promised to get rid off but there it stood, as if bound to torture him. Because the mirror always showed his greatest desire...


He grabbed the great magic mirror with both hands and looked straight into the glass, face flushed and eyes wild. His breathing was labored, his breaths the only thing you could hear in the room. Harry couldn't hold back anymore. He fumbled with his pants with one hand and took hold of his throbbing shaft, already too excited for his own good, stroking it and squeezing steadily, eyes never leaving the mirror. His mouth fell open, emotions in turmoil building inside him, his strokes getting him closer to completion.

A moan was drowned in his throat, and he slid his eyes shut, hand moving faster, legs answering the movement. "Oh for the love of-" he was close now. Just a few more strokes and he would be released from this maddening heat in his body. Just a few more...

He grabbed the mirror tighter, eyes casting a glance in it, and shutting tight again.

In the seconds that followed, many things happened. He felt a satin piece of clothing shielding his eyes, knotted tight in the back of his head, and everything went black. "What the-!" who the fuck was there, spelling his eyes shut? How could it be he hadn't noticed?

Footsteps were heard behind him, and he turned around, holding himself by the mirror, and pressing against it to steady himself. "Who is there?What the fuck are you doing?"

There was no answer as the footsteps drew closer.

He felt his hand go numb and realized he was unable to move now. He felt warm breath wash over his neck and could not restrain a soft whimper. He was simply too hard for teasing. "Who is it?" he called in a soft voice, in an inviting tone. There was no answer. He felt the person kneel in front of him and heaven burst in pieces as a warm, wet mouth engulfed his cock, making him moan in delight. It did not matter anymore. It could be anyone for all he cared. As long as she kept sucking like that, biting his leaking tip like that, knotting his stomach like that. He could not stand it. Whoever was servicing him, had great skill in doing so. And he was already so damn hard...

"Faster please, go faster" he breathed between gasps and the other obeyed, tongue moving in an insane manner, blanking out everything. Images of a blond boy crying out under him in his orgasm, of perfect lips sucking him off was all he could picture as he came in the strangers mouth with a desperate cry.

Everything was silent now apart from his hoarse breaths that filled the room. He sensed the other stand up, and the next thing he felt was lips pressing hard against his own, claiming and taking without permission. And Harry would have resisted if they didn't feel so damn possessive, so incredibly dominating. But the kiss grew fiercer as the other forced a soft tongue in his mouth, making his knees weak, his body respond once more. There was something in this raw passion, in the feeling of tasting himself in the others mouth that drove him crazy. And without realizing he was moaning again.

The kiss was broken and cold air was left in the place of the hot form in front of him, as footsteps drew away and to the door. "Wait! Tell me who you are, please" Harry muttered. There was a pause, and Harry thought that perhaps he would get a name. But the other resumed walking away, and the door closed with a bang.