Foxgirl: Sorry for the long wait! No worries, I've had the ending written for months now, haha. x) So it will DEFINITELY be finished! Hope you all enjoy the chapter! There's only going to be one more. It's been fun! I'm so glad you've all given me such great feedback, I'll be sure to write more Harry x Draco in the future! I just started college, so I've been fairly busy. But I have plenty of time at night to write! :D
Vixen: Blah blah blah. Get to the good stuff.
Foxgirl: Humph. Fine. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, again! They really do give me motivation.
In the end, I decided that popcorn really was the best idea.
"You, stay down here," I instructed to Potter. We'd gotten into another battle, this one with two dusty light sabers I'd found in another bin of old toys. After pledging my allegiance to the dark side, and Potter's insistence that he was my father— which followed with my intense accusations of incest— I decided that my hunger could not go un-assuaged any longer.
He flopped down on the couch, nodding at the idea and allowing his green piece of plastic to fall to the ground. It hit with a twang, and I punched him— hard— in forehead for abusing my junk. These things needed to be treated with respect. That would teach him to defile the force. I kept my red light saber one with me as I headed towards the kitchen, on the look out for any surprise attacks by enemies of the empire.
It was then I decided that I really was going to have to do something about this overactive imagination of mine.
I walked up the stairs, watching the railing thoughtfully as I went. It was strange. Being with Potter and not feeling the urge to vomit, that was. I'd already declared it was all right to hang around him, but whether I was used to it or not was another manner. In any case he was much more fun than Pansy— who outright refused to have a dart war with me. I shot her three times in the head. She'd glared, called me immature, and went home.
When I reached the top of the stairs I pushed open the door, sighing a bit at the sad thought that teenagers just didn't have dart wars anymore.
My light saber swung out in retaliation to the high-pitched squeal, and I vaguely registered that I'd just smacked my mother in the side with a piece of glowing plastic.
She stared at me, then at the fake weapon.
"…Well that was odd. Anyway Draco sweetheart, I need to drag the chairs out on the deck inside. They're going to get blown away with all this wind."
"Mother, why didn't you do that at the beginning of winter? They're probably soaked through."
She sent me a glare— obviously that was one of those things that I simply wasn't supposed to mention. "Well you didn't remember either, did you? Now call up your hunny bunny and get him to help us move the chairs." I was pushed in the direction of the basement and scowled at her choice of words.
Damn. No popcorn for now, then. As I turned and angrily started back to the basement, it was only then that I realized just what my mother had called Potter. That was it. She was just asking for a midnight assassination plan. Perhaps I could get Potter to help. I'd just bribe him with one of my socks or something.
"…Oh he is not my honey bunny! For the love of—"
"Who's not your honey bunny?"
Potter startled me at the bottom of the stairs, and I had to jerk backwards to avoid running into him. Sending him a glare, I crossed my arms, the light saber hanging awkwardly from my hand. "…That's not important. We are to help my mother with some menial labor. No arguing," I warned him, tossing the weapon carelessly down the stairs. He might have mumbled something like hypocrite under his breath, but I ignored it.
"All right, sounds fine," He responded seconds later, and I sighed.
"No arguing Harry! Geez, you're such a lazy ass, you can't even help with a simple task."
"…I said it was fine, Draco."
"What, do you want me to pay you off or something! Your only reward should be the joy you'll get from helping a mother in need!"
"Draco, I said I'd help!"
"For crying out loud, you're a hard man to convince. Fine, but a hug is all your getting!"
I lunged forward the necessary foot— well, perhaps lunge is too strong a word— and grumpily wrapped my arms around a stunned Potter. I felt his whole body tense, heart beat slowly beginning to speed up. I took this opportunity to inhale slowly, careful to take in Potter's scent. It was odd, and unexplainable— but reminded me of folly and foolishness and all those things I'd given up as soon as I was born a Malfoy. It was a good ten seconds before tentative hands were at my sides, as if he couldn't quite believe I was there. Time stopped, and I allowed myself to briefly reflect over what I'd just done.
I pulled away.
In the next second I'd crossed my arms, an impatient expression on my face.
"There, you've gotten what you wanted. Now can we please just do this without any more complications?"
I turned and stomped up the stairs, rolling my eyes at Potter's previous cajoling words. He drove a hard bargain, but I needed his help more than I needed his sass. Of course, I hadn't wanted to hug him, but what else was I to do? The guy was practically threatening me! …I didn't really want to dwell on my reasoning's. Even villains needed hugs, sometimes.
"…Draco Malfoy," He said in what sounded like exasperation, and I waved off his words quite literally as he followed me upwards.
"There will be no more of your back talk, thank you."
He sighed. But when I glanced backwards a happy little grin was curling his mouth, so I figured he'd learned his lesson well enough.
I pushed open the door more and stepped out next to my mother, unable to help glaring at the positively devious expression she wore as she watched Potter coming up behind me.
"All right mother, we're here and ready to serve."
"Mr. Potter," She said, sounding scandalized. I knew that tone of voice. We stood there for a moment and I implored her with a look to just keep quiet. I just knew she was going to say something embarrassing and mortifying and so awful that I'd have to hide my face forever— "I'd appreciate if you did not to stare at my son's behind in my presence, thank you." Potter immediately started sputtering and I slapped a palm to my face, sighing as I listened to my mother's gleeful cackles. They were more like quiet snickers, but I knew what it would sound like if she were alone. The assassination plan was definitely a go. We'd need the dart guns again— possibly the nerf swords. "Now come along boys, there's work to be done."
Potter didn't respond, his face red enough to warrant some worry as he followed me and my mother to the back doors in the living room and keeping his eyes straight ahead. I couldn't bring myself to blame him though— my ass was fantastic.
"It's a teensy bit cold out, but if you do it quickly you shouldn't need your jackets," Narcissa said sweetly, pressing her hands together. I frowned at the implications of her words. Firstly, we were in the midst of a blizzard. Second, "You mean you're not going to help us?"
My mother simply blinked, before bursting out in unnecessarily loud laughter. "Of course not darling!" She sighed. "That was quite humorous. I'll just make you two some hot chocolate."
I rolled my eyes, and Narcissa walked cheerfully away, humming some song about chains and whips under her breath. She was truly a disturbing woman. I turned to Potter, jerking a thumb towards the glass doors, where the wind blowing frantic flakes of snow around could be clearly seen. There were three chairs total, each heavy, with a metal frame, and a green cushion that was probably frozen.
"…I bet I can last longer out there than you without shoes on."
There was two feet of snow on the ground. In retrospect, not my brightest idea. But Potter just smirked, wiggling his toes in his socks and eyeing my bare feet.
I threw the door open, and was immediately assaulted with an army of snowflakes. The wind almost blew me back, but Potter was behind me and steadied me with his hands. I yanked away. Putting on the bravest face I could muster (I really did hate the cold… really) I took my first step out.
It was agony.
The cold sank into my bones through my feet, soaking through my sweatpants up to my knees and freezing me almost instantly. But I was never one to give up that easily. I gritted my teeth and continued forward, aiming for the nearest chair. I vaguely heard Potter wading through white behind me through the roar of the wind, but I ignored him. He wasn't the objective right now. Steeling myself I reached out both hands and gripped the arms of the chair.
They were ridiculously cold— but I held on tightly, dispersing my weight and lifting with only the thought of getting inside and getting warm. It was so heavy— especially since it was buried deep in the snow. I sighed, reaching down and attempting to scrape away some of the precipitation gathering around the legs.
My teeth started chattering together.
I bit my cheek against the bite of the cold against my hands and my feet— and the rest of my body for that matter, moving back to the arms of the chair and feeling slightly grateful when I'd discovered that the tips of my fingers had gone numb. Hooray.
Ignoring the fact that I was starting to make sarcastic comments to myself, as that meant it was time to get out more, I yanked at the chair again, sighing with relief when it finally tugged free of the snow. Then I proceeded to make my way back to the door. Much to my annoyance, Potter had already brought in the other two chairs, and he was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and worry. What a weird combination.
I set the chair down, a violent shiver running through me as soon as the heat from the house settled onto my skin. I turned, pushing the sliding door shut and cursing when I couldn't stop shivering. I really, really hated the cold. Clasping my hands together I attempted to warm them, frowning at how my pale skin had turned even paler.
Of course, Potter seemed no worse for the ware, other than being a little wet. I glared.
"Well, since I was out there l-longer that means I win the b-bet."
Even with the warmth of the house, my fingers and toes didn't seem to be getting any warmer.
"Hey, you okay there? You look like you're freezing."
I shot him a look. "No. Really Potter?" I said, reverting back to his last name in my anger, "You must be the most observant person in the city— no, the world!"
He frowned, walking towards me and eventually grabbing onto my wrist, a guiding hand at my back. I would have tried to wrench away, were it not for the fact it felt like I was walking on bloated sausages. My toes were so numb, it was beginning to hurt. How bothersome. "What are you doing," I mumbled between trying to warm my fingers. Potter's hands were just as cold as mine. But he didn't answer me, instead tugging me over to the long couch and forcing me to sit by pushing on my shoulders. It was nice to get off my feet for all of about two seconds, before he knelt in front of me. "I said, what are you doing?"
He looked nervous, which meant it was something he wasn't sure I was going to comply to. Which always meant trouble.
"I'm erm… going to uh— warm you up."
I rolled my eyes. "Just stop, before you do something stu—"
He cut me off, grabbing my left foot and holding it awkwardly for a moment, before pressing his thumb into my instep— hard.
I moaned. And slumped down in my seat, my head falling against the couch. My toes were still numb, but god if that didn't feel good. I heard Potter let out a squeak that should have had me worried, but I couldn't bring myself to care, when he was rubbing and squeezing in all the right places.
On my foot of course.
A pleased groan tumbled past my lips as he started to work on my toes, and I sighed happily allowing my eyes to close.
If keeping him around meant I would get more massages like this, then he could stay for bloody ever.
He did something positively amazing to my heel, and I hummed a bit, my head falling to the side. "Harry," I purred my appreciation, to which I was met by another squeak. Those were starting to get a bit disconcerting, but when he moved to my other foot I decided I could wait a bit longer to bring attention to them. My toes certainly weren't numb anymore.
I hadn't even noticed that the noises I was making had taken that dip into sexual, until he pressed into my instep again and I breathed a 'harder', that had his hands spasming. It would have irritated me that he was getting off on giving me a foot rub, but he was just so good at it. Or maybe my feet were just strangely sensitive— either way, it felt too incredible to stop.
He finished with a series of light touches, before placing my foot down on the carpet. I sighed, ignoring the sound of rustling fabric in favor of wiggling my toes.
But then there was a presence entirely too close, and I opened my eyes, startled by the sight of Potter's green ones. He had moved up on his knees, between my legs, with a glazed over look in his eyes that I knew meant trouble.
And I would have pushed him away— really— but then he picked up one of my hands, massaging that with an unexpected fervor and applying so much pressure that it yanked another breathy moan from my throat.
He leaned closer.
And with my eyes half-lidded as they were, all I could really see was a sea of green that I thought I might be able to drown in.
Someone cleared their throat.
It came from my right, and surprised me so much that I whipped my head over, eyes widening as I saw my father watching me with a quirked eyebrow that I'd never truly perfected.
I stiffened, Potter's hand unconsciously tightening around mine. I wasn't sure if he realized it, but this was definitely the worst case scenario. Right after all our bank accounts getting robbed blind, and my mother telling Lucius I was dating a male. I lifted my head slowly, meeting my father's eyes with a cordial nod. Best to play this out for as long as possible.
"…Father. What are you doing home?"
I felt Potter slowly move until he was standing again, and I pulled my hand away so I could straighten myself up on the couch, ignoring the cold feel of my pants against my legs. Lucius didn't appear to appreciate me diverging the subject from the obvious question on his face, but he went along, shifting onto the black snake's head cane he used to walk with. I was positive there was some sort of weapon inside, but I'd never gotten a chance to see for myself.
"I told everyone at the office to go home, since the blizzard was getting so severe. We lost electricity."
I nodded, feigning interest and ignoring Potter, who was standing awkwardly in front of me.
"And who is your…friend, here?" He asked in a tone that said he had already formed his own assumptions. I cringed. This was going to be even worse than my mother, I could already tell.
"…Father, this is—"
"Lucius! Oh, darling, you're home."
I could have fallen to the ground and sobbed with relief as my mother pranced in the room, cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. She giggled when he wrapped an arm around her waist, briefcase dropping to the ground.
"That's our cue," I mumbled, standing and dragging Potter towards the stairs. He didn't need to be told twice. We high-tailed it out of there like two teenagers who were caught doing something inappropriate— which, in a sense, I suppose we were.
"Er— wait, Draco—" I heard my father call behind us.
"It's all right dear, that's just his new lover."
"Lover?" His voice sounded rather strangled, and I wondered briefly if he hadn't choked on his own tongue. It wouldn't have surprised me.
"Don't worry Lucius, I've already done the necessary checks. He's clean."
"That may be but—"
I pulled Potter into my bedroom and closed the door, sighing heavily. Thankfully, she would likely be able to keep father distracted for a while… Turning to Potter I glared, crossing my arms. "Why'd you do that?" I snapped, shivering a bit as the wet fabric of my pants shifted against my legs. Potter appeared rather flustered, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he stared at anywhere but me.
"I was… um… er— well you seemed to like it." His tone sounded suspiciously like desperation. I narrowed my eyes.
"…Of course I did. I love foot rubs. That one was orgasmic."
The word caused him to start sputtering nervously, and he seemed to realize for the first time where we were. "Or—Orgasm—" He paused here to swallow thickly, and I rolled my eyes.
"Really, can you at least try to speak coherently?" I mumbled. Potter nodded, tugging at his collar.
"I meant— um, why are we in your room?" I walked over to my dresser, pulling open one of the drawers and placing both hands at my pants.
"To get away from my parents. Turn around," I instructed. He faltered for a moment, before flushing darkly and whipping in the opposite direction.
I slid down the material, cringing as the wet fabric stuck a bit to my calves. After I got them out I threw them to the hamper on the other side of the room. "You can look now," I said as I pulled up the other pants. Normally I wouldn't mind someone seeing me change, but I didn't want to get jumped again. And since it had already happened more than twice with clothes on, I didn't want to risk him seeing me with clothes off. Potter turned around again, tugging on his collar and clearing his throat. "Well, um… what now?"
I shrugged, going over and plopping down on the bed. This was a day meant for relaxation, after all. "I dunno. Lay down."
My goodness, he freaked out over every little thing. "Oh just do it. Nothing's going to happen." I sent him a cross look, indicating that nothing had better happen. It was becoming quite an ordeal to keep this relationship platonic. He nodded, hesitantly coming over and sitting on the bed next to me. The bottoms of his pants were still wet, but I didn't really care. And he didn't seem to either. I allowed my eyes to fall close, sighing and laying a hand against my stomach. My mind wandered.
What was I going to tell my father? Narcissa couldn't keep him distracted forever… and he was going to want a very good explanation for this. Perhaps I could say… we were practicing for a play? No, I hated theater. Father knew that… maybe I could tell him we were trying to learn massage therapy for a school project? That might be slightly feasible…
I felt a warmth over my hand, and soon after that I felt Potter's fingers worm their way between mine, our palms lightly touching. I sighed. He just couldn't help himself, could he? I cracked an eye open and glanced over, noticing that the strange boy had decided to lay down, an annoyingly happy smile on his face. "…This is nice," He murmured softly.
A sudden thought came to my head.
And once it did, I couldn't push it away, the idea latching on to the back of my mind and sticking until I had vocalized it.
"Harry," I called, waiting for him to look my way. He let out a 'hmm?' and I paused for a moment, glancing down at my pillow before continuing. "Do you want to fuck me?"
I was almost insulted, his reply was so vehement. I quirked an eyebrow.
"Well yes, but— but— fuck. I just; I meant ah, oh god— I just meant that this was nice, too." He seemed to be scrambling to pick up the word vomit that was flowing out of him, and it was quite an entertaining sight. I listened to Potter flounder for a bit, before placing a hand over his mouth.
"Shutup Harry. I get it."
He flushed darkly.
It was certainly something interesting to think about. I knew that he was physically attracted to me, and he had obviously gotten emotionally attached as well— but I hadn't really thought of it in those terms before. But of course, he was a teenage boy. It was practically all we thought about. Granted, the boys I knew thought about other girls, but Potterwas a strange one.
I made myself comfortable again, placing my hands behind my head. I saw Potter clap a hand over his eyes.
"You can't just ask things like that," he muttered, voice cracking at the end. I turned my head toward him. I knew what he was getting at, but playing dumb was so much more fun.
"Because it— just because."
"…Are you thinking about it now?"
"H-Huh? Thinking about what?"
"You horny bastard! You totally are!"
Potter stammered a bit in his defense and I smacked a pillow against his head, though I couldn't help but laugh.
It stopped snowing around nine-ish. I used that as an excuse to throw Potter out, and after much shuffling around and furtive glances, finally allowed him a kiss— on my cheek.
Father was not pleased.
"So, Draco. When were you planning to tell me about your…date."
"Oh you know I'm dreadfully tired busy day tomorrow and all that." I feigned a yawn, attempting to subtly scuttle back towards the staircase. But Father was far too clever to be outsmarted by a trick like that. I heard him clear his throat, and then I was being pinned with one of his famous Lucius-patented expressions, the ones designed to force me to spill my guts.
"…it's not what it seems like."
He quirked an eyebrow. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, before he raised the other eyebrow as well, as if to say Go on. I cleared my throat, flicking a tongue over my teeth.
"I'm erm— going to the dance with Potter because of a bet."
"A bet." The flat tone was evidence enough that he didn't believe me. But before I could open a mouth to protest, Father held up a hand. "Draco I have to admit, I am disappointed that you don't feel you can confide in me honestly. I will wait until you're ready to speak."
"Just know that I have no qualms with you favoring the same sex—"
"I had the few odd experiments in high school myself—"
"I want you to know that you can come to me at any time." Nodding, apparently done with the conversation, and looking pleased with himself, Father stalked off towards his office. I watched him leave, dumbfounded.
I went to bed early that night.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a long stretch of hallway white, very realistic pictures of the snow falling outside stretching down the length of the walls. I knew immediately that I was dreaming— because one, I couldn't recall how I'd gotten there, and two, the snow in the pictures was actually moving. Deciding to play along and get whatever strange fallacy my brain had come up with, I sighed, beginning to walk forwards. I noticed a few things— one was that I was wearing the outfit I'd picked out for Snowball, and two was that I was barefoot.
This was all very strange, but it was a dream, and so I decided not to question it.
I was compelled to turn, placing a hand on the handle of a door to my left. I glanced around a bit— there was a silver nameplate on the door.
It read Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. I tilted my head to the side, wrinkling my nose. The school motto? Shaking my head, I pushed the handle down and went inside.
My feet hit sand, wind whipping my hair into a frenzy and sending the blonde locks in disarray. The sound of ocean waves shocked my ears, and I blinked, turning my head to find the door still there, a white slab amidst a sandy landscape.
Harry stood in front of me (he was allowed to be Harry, in my dreams), wearing a pair of floral printed swim trunks and an unbuttoned white shirt. I quirked an eyebrow.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
The raven-haired boy curled his toes against the sand to prove a point. I glanced down briefly, shrugging. "I s'pose," I answered, noncommittally.
He nodded, raising a hand against the sun and tilting his head up. "Yessir, times are good. The stocks are up. The Wall has been cracked, it's only a matter of time until we invade."
"Harry… what on Earth are you talking about?"
He looked over to me, seriously. "Do you believe in magic?"
"…What the fuck?"
"Come on." Harry extended a hand, gesturing for me to grasp it. I looked at him apprehensively— I didn't particularly feel like taking a crazy man's hand, and he was showing all the signs of a loon. But after an impatient toss of his head, I reached out and took it. "It won't be long now."
I shook my head, not understanding. Harry started to lead me down towards the ocean, it's roaring waves lapping at my feet. I glanced back longingly at the white door. I couldn't stand nonsensical dreams— I wanted to wake up already.
It was then that I registered I was thigh deep in water. I turned towards Harry, frowning. He showed no signs of stopping, moving further and further into the surf as I was dragged behind him. The water was cool, stinging a bit on my skin.
"What are you doing?"
We went further.
My chest was engulfed in water, and I scowled, tugging my hand away. But Harry's grip was stronger than I anticipated, and I was unable to free myself.
The water went past my shoulders, I began to panic.
"Potter! Potter, stop, stop it, what are you doing?"
The cool liquid flowed into my open mouth, through my nostrils, the salt stinging at my eyes and making my head feel like it was about to explode.
I couldn't see Harry anymore, but I couldn't move either, and I clutched at my throat.
My eyes slide close.
After a time, I began to relax.
My fingers trembled a bit— I could breathe.
I opened my eyes, taking in a sharp inhale of water when I was greeted by the sight of sparkling jade in front of me. The water rolled around us, thick, lackadaisical, and I watched Harry's hair float about his head.
He swam closer, eyes half lidded.
His lips mouthed something, but I couldn't understand him through the water.
His hands came up to cup my cheeks, I blinked against the current.
Our mouths met.
I sat up so fast my head spun.