Addiction
15minuteficlets post. I haven't done one of these in 10 weeks!
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 307
A/N: I got cut off at the end, but don't really know where I wanted to go with it, but take the hackneyed plot points from there on and I think you'll be all set. *wink*
It's not like he meant to do what he did; it's not like he meant to start it. It wasn't really his fault if Draco never stopped, was it?
Looking back on it, he realizes that everything about Draco was like an addiction. After that first time-after he stopped punching long enough to bring his face just close enough to brush his lips against Draco's-he could never focus on any other aspect of their relationship. He found himself staring at Draco wherever he went (surprisingly a lot of the time where Harry was going as well). He never actually stopped to think too deeply into why Draco allowed it, why Draco never antagonized him again.
He didn't really care.
All he knew was that their interactions were more suggestive than hateful, more promising than threatening. The looks Draco gave Harry were so subtle that Harry doubted Ron or even Hermione picked up on it, and both were relieved if not a little suspicious about their lack of open animosity.
Harry never expected Draco to kiss him back.
His lips weren't soft, like Harry almost expected, but chapped and rough, like the line of his jaw and the coldness of his eyes. Up close, Harry could see that despite Pansy fawning over him, Draco was pretty close to what someone would call ugly. His thin, slightly arthritic fingers closed around Harry's wrist and pulled Harry flush against his body which, Harry noticed, was sinewy and lanky, elegantly hid by the flow of his cloak.
Draco made no introduction, attempted no explanation, but merely cocked his head to the side and, rather roughly, crushed his lips to Harry's. After that these impromptu meetings-before classes, after classes, outside the Great Hall during meals-occurred more and more often until they were the high point of Harry's day.
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 307
A/N: I got cut off at the end, but don't really know where I wanted to go with it, but take the hackneyed plot points from there on and I think you'll be all set. *wink*
It's not like he meant to do what he did; it's not like he meant to start it. It wasn't really his fault if Draco never stopped, was it?
Looking back on it, he realizes that everything about Draco was like an addiction. After that first time-after he stopped punching long enough to bring his face just close enough to brush his lips against Draco's-he could never focus on any other aspect of their relationship. He found himself staring at Draco wherever he went (surprisingly a lot of the time where Harry was going as well). He never actually stopped to think too deeply into why Draco allowed it, why Draco never antagonized him again.
He didn't really care.
All he knew was that their interactions were more suggestive than hateful, more promising than threatening. The looks Draco gave Harry were so subtle that Harry doubted Ron or even Hermione picked up on it, and both were relieved if not a little suspicious about their lack of open animosity.
Harry never expected Draco to kiss him back.
His lips weren't soft, like Harry almost expected, but chapped and rough, like the line of his jaw and the coldness of his eyes. Up close, Harry could see that despite Pansy fawning over him, Draco was pretty close to what someone would call ugly. His thin, slightly arthritic fingers closed around Harry's wrist and pulled Harry flush against his body which, Harry noticed, was sinewy and lanky, elegantly hid by the flow of his cloak.
Draco made no introduction, attempted no explanation, but merely cocked his head to the side and, rather roughly, crushed his lips to Harry's. After that these impromptu meetings-before classes, after classes, outside the Great Hall during meals-occurred more and more often until they were the high point of Harry's day.