by Cherri Lemone
Warnings: Wanking. Some swearing.
AN: To the anonymous first review: Yes, I was previously floatingcastles on this site. I logged on after almost a year and edited and reposted this story. Sorry if the name change confused you :/
Draco thumbed through the magazine, looking for a picture that would suit his needs. He flipped a couple more pages and paused, staring down at a suitably handsome bloke wearing nothing but tight leather trousers. He trailed his finger over the page idly, wondering why he had to go through this ritual every night. It would turn out the same way, he knew.
No. He wouldn't go that far. As if this stupid attraction wasn't bad enough - he wouldn't go about indulging the part of him that insisted that this wasn't just lust, that this was an all consuming desire, a need. He would make do with the image of the leather-clad man in the porn magazine, and his mind would not conjure visuals of green eyes and messy black hair.
His hands wandered to the buckle of his belt, undoing it slowly, but he knew it was a lost battle. Even the lightest touch of his fingers against his cloth-covered erection filled his mind with images of his nemesis.
"Fucking Harry Potter," Draco hissed under his breath, trying to sound wrathful and dangerous. He failed utterly; the words fuck and Potter in the same sentence had him undone within moments, and it came out sounding more like a plea.
Impatient now, Draco yanked his trousers over his hips and curled his hand around his aching member, stroking harshly. He gasped out loud at the friction and was momentarily thankful for the Silencing Charm he had thought to apply to his bed curtains - Blaise would never stop nagging if he heard what Draco was doing.
Draco fisted faster, harder, biting down hard on his lip to keep from screaming out loud. It was over much too soon, hot liquid spilling out over his bare chest as he rode out wave after wave of pleasure. He managed to keep himself silent, more for the purpose of denying his obsession with Potter to himself than to keep from being heard. The curtains were, after all, spelled. But apparently, he hadn't resisted enough, because one word echoed in his mind over and over as he came.
Draco sighed, running his hand over his now too-sensitive cock lightly as a thrill of aftershocks ran through him. This crush was becoming too much for him to handle. More than once had Potter caught him staring. He had to find something, someone to take Potter's place in his mind.
Muttering a quick Cleaning Charm, he buttoned his pants and pulled on a shirt. He would find himself a partner tomorrow. Surely there were plenty of men willing to have a one-off with him. It wouldn't be that hard to forget about Potter.
Who was he kidding? He groaned and ran a hand through his hair - a habit which he abhorred and saved only for times when he was extremely frustrated. He wasn't ever going to forget about Potter. But maybe it was worth a shot - a distraction would help.
Mind made up, Draco lifted himself onto his elbows, fully intending to get out of bed. He reached towards the curtains, but someone else beat him to it and pulled them open from the outside.
Blaise Zabini stood by Draco's four-poster, grinning and looking extremely pleased with himself. Draco arched an eyebrow at him, trying to calm his heart, which, for some reason, was beating rather wildly. He adopted an aura of cool nonchalance and stared up at his friend.
Blaise was unperturbed, of course. "Draco. What have you been doing all evening? Thinking of Potter?"
Draco opened his mouth to protest that he had not been thinking about Potter, absolutely not, but Blaise rushed on.
"Never mind. But I got you something. And I went through a lot of trouble to get you this, mind you, so you owe me one."
With that, Blaise pulled what looked like a postcard-sized photograph out of a pocket in his robes. Draco peered at it curiously and held out a hand for the picture.
Blaise handed it to him, and after one glance, Draco nearly dropped it from shock. He had been right; it was a photograph. But it was the subject of the picture that caused his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop. Blaise had somehow obtained a naked photograph of Harry Potter in the shower.
Potter was looking down at the shower floor, hands scrubbing at his hair. Water from the shower splashed onto his shoulder blades and carried rivulets of shampoo down his back. Draco's eyes traveled down the lean body, appreciating the trim physique and the toned muscles.
Suddenly, he jolted back to his senses, realizing that Blaise was standing right there and watching him with an amused glint in his eyes. Draco forced himself to tear his eyes away from the photo.
Not even trying to hide the multitude of emotions in his voice, Draco looked up at Blaise. "Where did you get this?"
Blaise snorted. "I blackmailed Potter's fan boy - Creevey, I think his name was - into taking it in the Gryffindor showers." At Draco's panicked expression, he quickly added, "Don't worry, I Obliviated him after he gave me the photograph. He doesn't remember anything."
Draco sighed and fell back against his pillows as Blaise went on.
"Thought it would provide you with wank material for a few weeks, anyway."
"I - no! I'm not -" Draco spluttered, hoping to hell his face wasn't going red.
"Oh, cut the drama, Draco. The whole House knows you're obsessed with Potter. You're the only one who's still in denial." Blaise turned away from Draco and made to leave. "Remember, you owe me," he added before he strutted out of the dormitory.
Draco rolled his eyes. Prat. But after he had double checked that Blaise was really gone, Draco carefully folded the photo in half and placed it under his pillow.
Draco slumped against his desk, the soporific effect of Professor Binns' voice getting to him. He was feeling pleasantly drowsy and was doodling in his notebook as the ancient ghost droned on and on about 18th century goblin wars.
Unconsciously, his eyes traveled over to where Potter was sitting, just a couple rows to Draco's left. Potter had evidently managed to tune out Binns' voice completely, as he was carrying on an animated, albeit whispered, conversation with Weasley, arms in the air as he gestured wildly to reinforce his point. Granger sat next to the two, quill moving so quickly on the piece of parchment in front of her that Draco was afraid it might combust. She was staring at their monotonous teacher with a rapt, attentive gaze, and the expression on her face was eager. Draco rolled his eyes and went back to analyzing Potter.
The Gryffindor was now playing a game of some sort with the Weasley. They were taking turns scratching something into Potter's parchment, and now and then both of them would burst into a fit of silent laughter, immediately earning themselves disapproving glares from the Mudblood.
Draco let himself imagine, just for a second, having Potter there with him instead of Weasley. The hero would no doubt stop smiling immediately. The thought made Draco frown. He wanted the Potter that only Granger and Weasley could have, the laughing, open Potter who caused a swooping sensation to take place in Draco's stomach and made him feel light-headed. He didn't want the angry, accusing man Potter became whenever he caught sight of Draco.
Alright, so maybe this wasn't just an attraction. But never in a million years would the Gryffindor notice Draco in that way, so there was no point in dwelling on it.
He realized with a jolt that he was still staring at Potter, and apparently, the latter had noticed as well. For a second, Potter raised his head and looked into Draco's face, and Draco couldn't bear to look away from the gaze.
Potter's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink for a second before he chewed on his lip and turned back to Weasley. Draco scowled down at his notebook. Had his feelings been that apparent on his face? Had Potter somehow seen it in his eyes?
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter eying him curiously. Fuck. Draco couldn't bear it if Potter found out about this crush, or attraction, or whatever it was. He abruptly turned away and pretended to be rummaging for something in his bag.
An object caught his attention, and he jumped when he saw that the photo of Potter in the shower was in his schoolbag. He vaguely remembered slipping it in there that morning, mostly so that the house elves wouldn't find it while making his bed and cleaning the dormitory.
He cast a searching glance around the classroom. Potter was now turned completely around in his seat and was talking to Seamus Finnigan. Everyone else was either asleep or staring into space, and no one was paying Draco any attention.
He discreetly slipped the photograph out of his bag and onto the open notebook on his lap. After double checking that no one was watching, he let himself stare at the picture and dream of things that would never happen.
He sighed. Perhaps he would allow himself, just for this class period, to pretend as if Potter did want him, that something could happen between them. Draco picked up his quill, and, after a moment's hesitation, wrote 'Harry Potter wants Draco Malfoy. Badly,' on the back of the photograph. He underlined 'Badly' twice and stared at the words, imagining a world in which they were true. Maybe if he stared at them long enough they would become reality.
The bell rang, effectively pulling Draco out of his Potter-induced daze, and he quickly stuffed the picture into his notebook before rising from his seat and hurrying out of the classroom. He was halfway out the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
Draco turned to see none other than Potter in front of him. What the hell? His mind came up with about a dozen fantasies before he shook himself. Of course that couldn't be it.
"What?" he managed.
Potter was motioning at Granger and Weasley, who were already out of the classroom, to go ahead without him. With one last worried glance, they left, and Potter looked around the place to check if anyone else was watching. The room was empty except for Professor Binns, who probably didn't even know they were there. Potter looked satisfied.
"Malfoy," he said curtly. He looked uncertain for a moment, but before Draco could interject, he pressed on. "There's something wrong with Colin Creevey - he's acting really odd, and he keeps muttering about Slytherins, but he can't remember anything. I want to know what you and your lot did to him."
Fury and disappointment rose up in Draco. Why was Potter always so ready to believe the worst of him?
"I didn't do anything to your little admirer, Potter! Why is it that whenever something goes wrong, it's immediately me you think of?"
"Gosh, let's see," Potter started in a sarcastic tone, but then his eyes widened as he stared at something on the floor. The Gryffindor looked positively bewildered and Draco hurried to see what it was that had put Potter in such a state.
His heart sank at the sight of it. There on the floor lay an upside down photograph with the words 'Harry Potter wants Draco Malfoy. Badly,' scrawled on the bottom. It must have fallen out of his notebook. Draco didn't know whether to snatch the picture up and run or pretend it didn't belong to him. He grabbed it up quickly, thanking the heavens that Potter hadn't seen what was on the other side.
He looked up at Potter. Had the Gryffindor put two and two together and found out Draco's darkest secret?
Potter's eyes were huge and Draco was taken aback at the pain he read in them. Of all things, he hadn't expected Potter to be hurt. Was it the idea that Draco wanted him that terrible?
Potter staggered back a couple of paces until he was against the wall and stared at Draco. His arms were braced against the wall and he looked as if he was ready to run at any second.
"How -" he started, voice rough. Potter coughed and tried again. "How did you find out?"
Find out? Draco frowned at him. Had Potter gone mad? He asked him.
"Have you gone completely insane, Potter?"
"Me? Insane? That's rich, Malfoy. Is this a joke? Who put you up to this?"
"Put me up to what, exactly?" Draco was becoming impatient and frustrated.
"This." Potter gestured at the back of the photograph. "How did you find out that - that I -" he looked away, unable to continue.
"That you what?"
The Gryffindor's eyes flashed angrily at Draco. "I hate you, Malfoy. As if it isn't bad enough that you've somehow found out! Do you want me to say it? You probably have a Recording Spell ready."
Draco stared at him, but Potter hadn't finished his rant. "Fine. I'll say it. I'm fucking in love with you, Malfoy. I do want you, just like you've written on that scrap of parchment. I want you badly. Happy? Now tell me how you found out."
Draco was unable to believe what he was hearing. This wasn't what he had expected at all. He wasn't sure he would be able to form coherent words, so he didn't bother to try.
Instead, he moved forward and grabbed Harry's wrist, pinning him against the wall. A split second fear overtook him, but he batted it away and pressed his form against Potter's. The Gryffindor was stiff as a board, but he didn't struggle, so Draco took his chance. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Potter's.
Potter tensed as Draco's mouth met his, but that didn't stop Draco. He plunged on relentlessly, attacking Potter's mouth with vigor until the soft lips opened up and allowed him entrance.
At the first touch of their tongues, Draco completely lost it. He felt his legs turn jelly-like in consistency and felt thankful that he was leaning against Potter - otherwise he surely would have collapsed on the floor by now.
The intensity seemed to electrify Potter as well as Draco, and suddenly the Gryffindor was no longer dormant against him. Draco felt a hand fist in his hair and the other arm snake around his waist to grip his hip. Potter kissed back furiously, and as they both threw everything they had into the embrace, Draco began to wonder if they ever needed to break apart.
It was perfect; he had everything he needed right there with him and he wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of his life. But eventually, the need for air separated them, and Draco was left gasping and looking into a face that mirrored his own in shock and desire.
Potter's pupils were huge and dilated, and Draco felt a heady sensation at the idea that he could reduce Potter to this state with just one kiss. He yearned to try it again, but Potter pushed away and stared at him with glazed eyes.
"Malfoy, if this is some sort of a joke -"
"Shush," Draco said quietly, although his brain was screaming. Potter wanted him! Hell, Potter had said he was in love with him! Draco's insides did a happy little jig.
Potter continued to look doubtful, however, so Draco pulled the photograph back out of his notebook. "Look at this," he said, and Potter took it from him. The Gryffindor's eyes widened at the sight of the picture, and his cheeks blushed red.
"What - how -"
"That's why Creevey was disoriented. Because Blaise made him get this for me."
"Zabini?" Potter looked more confused than ever. "But why did you want the photo?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought that kiss said everything. I want you. As for the writing on the back - well, I wrote that when I was... er... daydreaming."
"Daydreaming." Potter looked at Draco with a combination of incredulity and hope on his face.
"Yes," Draco said, and then hesitated. He looked at the Gryffindor. "What - what do you want to do now, Potter?"
Harry was still staring at him as though he had never seen him before. "Harry," Potter mumbled faintly.
"Not Potter. Call me Harry."
A slow smile stretched Draco's face. He was inconceivably happy. He lifted his hand and dragged Potter - no, Harry - into another kiss.
It was just as good as the first, and when they finally broke apart, breathless, Draco opened his mouth to ask the question again. Where did Harry want to take this... thing between them?
Harry's next words, however, stopped Draco in his tracks, and he found himself grinning like a fool again. Harry looked nervous, but he gestured to the photograph in Draco's hands.
"Want to go to the showers and retake that picture? With both of us in it this time."
Draco beamed and took Harry's hand, hasty to comply.