He ran his hands through his pale blonde hair frustratedly as his long legs paced the common room floor.
"I just don't see how this could have happened. One day I'm hating him fiercely, with every fiber of my being, and the next my heart jumps at the very thought of him. It's ridiculous, and even more so, it's inexcusable. I cannot entertain such fantasies about him, of all people. Harry Potter! I mean, really." His grey eyes were laced with exhaustion and irritation. "What do you suggest, Domovoi?"
He sat down on the edge of an armchair by the fire. The flames flickered, light dancing across the silver walls and green tapestries of the Slytherin common room. The man's head sitting in the center of the fire began to speak.
"Well, Master Malfoy, I do understand your emotions, both about the boy and why it wouldn't be necessarily a good idea. But since it's beginning to interfere with your life, perhaps it would be wise to investigate this further. Perhaps you need only to taste him and let it lie. Hit it and quit it, I think it's referred to as. That sort of thing."
Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Perhaps you're right." He glanced at the clock. "It's getting late. I should go." He stood, ever the gracious host. "Thank you for this. I will see you next week at the same time."
"Think nothing of it, Master Malfoy. If I may congratulate you on your success in opening up; you have certainly shown great improvement since the first of our sessions." Draco made a gesture of thanks. "I won't keep you. Good night, Master Malfoy." His head disappeared from the center of the flames, leaving Draco to his thoughts.
He sighed again and stood. He was losing his touch. It wouldn't be long before other Slytherins started noticing. There would be hell to pay if they did. Slytherins are quick to prey on the fallen, especially when one of their own has fallen so far. Draco couldn't afford to let that happen. He climbed the stairs up to his private room. At least that was some comfort. Privacy always helped him deal with his problems. That and sleep. He undressed quickly and slipped into bed.
It was 3 o' clock before he finally fell asleep. He slept fitfully, and was plagued in his dreams by raven-haired boys with crooked smiles and lightening bolt scars.
"How's your insomnia doing, Harry?" Hermione asked over breakfast, gesturing towards Ron to pass the sugar bowl. Ron, ravenous as ever, hardly noticed as he scarfed down his second plate of food. Hermione rolled her eyes and reached across him to grab it.
Harry poured milk into his oatmeal. "It's alright, I suppose. I haven't been that tired anymore. I just get really hungry." Although I get hungry for the strangest things, he thought idly, his eyes searching the Great Hall for that telltale head of palest blond.
He wasn't quite sure when his desire for him arose, but he could still remember perfectly the night he became aware of it. It was the first night of his insomnia. He'd run into Malfoy in a dark corner of the castle, and before he quite knew what was happening he was swallowing Malfoy's length expertly and relishing in the moans he ripped from his pale throat. He'd shaken himself into reality to find himself sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, a erection raging under his pajamas. Ever since then, constant dreams of Malfoy erupted in his mind at any given moment. He couldn't get them to stop, although at this point the small part of him that didn't want them to was growing.
His eyes devoured how graceful Malfoy was in every endeavour: the way he picked up his spoon, the way his lips pulled into a perfect smirk, the way he rubbed his eyes tiredly. My God, Harry thought. He's even more gorgeous when he's sleepy. He cursed himself mentally and went back to his oatmeal, scowling. Stop gawking at the enemy! You great horny bastard.
Draco sighed. He pushed his eggs around on his plate gloomily and yawned enormously. This is getting ridiculous. I'll just have to corner the bastard and get it over with. It'll work. It has to work. He sighed again. It'll never work. But I can't keep losing sleep over him. He rose to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Pansy pouted. He ignored her and swept out of the Great Hall, intent upon finding Professor Snape and asking, begging if necessary, for a sleeping potion. He couldn't keep this charade up by himself anymore. It was of vital importance that no one notice his distraction, or his dejection. The lack of sleep didn't help him keep his temper in check, either.
Harry was somewhat disappointed to see Malfoy leave, although it amused him greatly to watch Pansy's face when Malfoy openly ignored her. Stupid girl, he thought. She's so obsessed, she probably watches him sleep at night.
Then he had an idea. His face lit up as he thought it, the novelty visibly spreading across his face like oil on water. It was something wholly unproductive, yet utterly tempting for him to occupy his sleepless nights with. Even as his brain toiled and formed the idea, he tried to dissuade himself. Harry, it's a fucking ridiculous plan. It's crazy. If you get caught, you will never hear the end of it. But, with his typical stubborn attitude, he refused to even listen to himself. I'll try it out tonight. It'll work. It has to work. He scooped up more oatmeal with his spoon. It probably wouldn't work.
Draco swallowed the spoonful of potion. He shuddered. It was too sweet. He picked up the bottle and re-read the label carefully.
Sleeping Potion #9
To aid in the restoration of a restful night
For those with insomnia, busy minds, or broken hearts
Keeps nightmares and undesirable thoughts away
New! Auto-awake charm, just name the time or event!
He smiled humorlessly. "I want to wake up the instant Harry Potter's lips touch mine," he muttered. Then, louder and more sarcastically, he said, "Or if by some strange, miraculous turn of events that fails to happen tonight, I'd like to wake up at 10 o' clock." He replaced the bottle on his nightstand and extinguished the lights with his wand. He was soon fast asleep, once more caught in an endless cycle of dreams starring the raven-haired bane of his existence.
Pulling his Invisibility Cloak tightly around him, Harry snuck out of the portrait hole. It was already almost one. Ron had finally fallen asleep and Harry'd gotten the chance he'd been waiting for all night. He strode down some corridors purposefully, swollen with confidence and oozing self- esteem; he crept like a rat desperate not to be caught down others. All too soon, he found himself standing outside the Slytherin house entrance. He gulped. Now for the password. He had intended upon trying to guess the password, staying all night if he had to, but he had overheard two Slytherin first years talking about it earlier that day. "Parseltongue," he whispered.
His voice echoed strangely in the corridor and a doorway appeared. Quickly he slipped inside and crossed to the boy's dormitory stairs before he lost his nerve. Blood pounding in his ears, he crept up the stairs, nervously clutching the cloak closer around him. He stopped at the sixth year's dormitory. Bracing himself, he cracked the door open slowly, his heart beating a mile a minute. A loud snore erupted from inside, and Harry almost shat himself. Then, as the seconds ticked by, he regained his gall and opened the door more. He poked his head in slowly and counted the sleeping bodies. The numbers are all wrong, he thought. Damn. He must have a private room. I should have known. He closed the door noiselessly and continued up the stairs until he reached the private rooms.
Luckily, Malfoy's door had the family crest emblazoned boldly across it, his name unfurled silkily underneath. Harry rolled his eyes. Arrogant prick. Beautiful, gorgeous, irresistible prick. He turned the handle and opened the door a crack. The lack of light and sound emboldened him. He pushed the door open wider and slipped in sideways. He faced the door and closed it as quietly as possible, praying that Malfoy wouldn't hear the frantic beating of his heart that seemed to fill the quiet room. He took a deep breath and turned around. His jaw dropped, and his breath seemed to die in his chest.
Malfoy was asleep, his pale form pronounced in the dim light, sheets tangled around his waist and legs. The moonlight coming in from the charmed window touched his skin and made it look like he was carved from stone. Harry's chest tightened. He hadn't expected this, such raw beauty and vulnerability and was inexplicably gripped with a desire to pull off his own clothes and find out what Malfoy's skin would feel like against his. Harry stood there for a moment, struck dumb.
I didn't know Draco slept naked, he thought finally. I mean Malfoy. Malfoy slept naked. He shivered. He still couldn't believe this was actually happening. Without taking his eyes off Draco, he stepped around the side of his bed and positioned himself on the floor between the bed and the window. Sitting there cross legged, he had a perfect view of how the moonlight fell on Draco's sleeping body. He soon grew bold enough to explore the chamber, but nothing caught his interest. He soon returned to his post, glad of the chance to just sit and stare. His eyes searched Draco's face, his magnificent neck and throat. He admired the planes of his chest and longed to touch his skin, to taste it and finally feed his hunger.
When it became too much to bear Harry looked away and noticed the potion bottle on the nightstand. He stood and examined the bottle. When he finished reading the label, he looked thoughtfully to Draco. So, he's taken a sleeping potion. He won't wake up for hours. Harry placed the bottle back down and pulled his cloak off slowly. He might as well get comfortable, now that he knew for certain he wasn't going to get caught. Harry sat on the bed next to Draco and took one of his hands in his.
Draco's fingers were long and slender and ridiculously soft. He slowly raised each finger to his lips and kissed the tips, one by one. He ran his tongue along the pad of Draco's index finger, gently biting down and enjoying the taste of his skin. Still holding his hand near his lips, he looked over at Draco's face. He lowly leaned over and brushed his pale hair off his forehead. He trailed his fingers over his eyelids, nose, and cheekbones, memorizing the way his skin felt.
Harry absently ran his thumb over Draco's lips. He considered kissing them softly, just to see what it'd be like. He decided against it. He couldn't explore everything in one night. It'd ruin all the following nights. He'd just wait for a sign to let him know that it was the right time.
Almost as if he'd heard his thoughts, Draco murmured something in his sleep. Harry leaned even closer, trying to catch what his words. It took his brain a moment to comprehend what he was saying.
"Harry," Draco whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth underneath his eyelids. "Harry, please."
The sound of Draco's voice, saying his name like that-- a shiver went through Harry's entire being. Without pausing to think, he filled the gap between them and pressed his lips against Draco's, tilting his head to allow for a better fit. He closed his eyes and sighed just as Draco's eyes fluttered once and opened.
A/N: Reviews greatly appreciated. Adored, even. I'm already hard at work on the second part. Should be up soon enough. I expect it to be a two-shot, no real plot or storyline; it'll be more graphic, though, you can rest assured. Let me know how you feel!