(no subject)
Title: A Slight Undoing
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It's all about JKR. I just like to make things up.
A/N: Written for xylodemon's I Didn't Get To Go To TWH Ficlet-a-thon
Dedication: For silly_frog.
***
Anything can happen in the woods
May I kiss you?
Any moment we could be crushed
Don't feel rushed
***
Draco has been watching Harry for years. He observes from afar, only to narrow his eyes when he steps in close and drags his wand out of his pocket, hissing threats that fall sour on his tongue.
It’s become habit, safe, and Draco isn’t interested in staying safe anymore. There are too many other variables, rising up like stepping stones, leading him down dark paths and long dungeon corridors. He’s going to stumble soon; he knows this because he can’t seem to find his way, not like his mother and father and aunt. He thinks there might be something wrong with him because everything in his life feels forced, like he’s merely going through the motions and constantly walking on eggshells. They’ll figure out soon enough that it’s all just an act. For now, though, he keeps his distance from his family and so-called friends and turns his attention to the one person who makes his life feel easy, predictable, even comfortable.
At first he thinks Harry knows something he doesn’t about coping with the notion of impending doom, but as the years wear on, Harry grows taller and thinner and more and more fearless. He snaps at teachers, lashes out at fellow students; he’s courageous to the point of stupid when even a hint of danger arises.
Draco doesn’t know how to cope like this, but watching Harry stalk about the castle, his eyes fiery with determination, Draco can’t help but feel a little undone.
So when Harry takes to following Draco with unrelenting determination during sixth year, Draco knows he's in big trouble.
Draco, of course, isn’t doing anything wrong. Well, not at the precise moment. He is merely on his way back to the dungeons after having spent half the night in the Room of Requirement. His head is pounding and he’s nursing a sliced finger. The cut is deep and he can’t remember the simple healing spell his mother used to recite when he was young and always getting into mischief. He should probably see Madame Pomfrey, but he doesn’t dare wake her, so he sticks his finger in his mouth and continues walking down the hall, as quietly as possible.
Rounding a corner, a torch blinks above him and the hair on the back of Draco’s neck prickles. Out of the corner of his eye a shadow shifts, then vanishes and he whirls around only to be greeted by darkness. His heart is pounding as he twists back around. He takes another step and freezes when a creaking sound echoes through the hall. Draco spins around just in time to see Harry Potter step out from behind a suit of armor.
Harry’s eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, his lips a thin white line. His hands, still dirty from an earlier Quiddich skirmish, curl into fists and Draco is momentarily stunned. Then Harry steps forward and Draco curses and begins wrestling with his robe, wincing as his sliced skin is torn open further. He can’t get his hand inside his pocket fast enough before Harry lunges…and punches Draco squarely in the jaw.
Draco stumbles backwards, his head slamming against the wall behind him. Harry stalks toward him, grasps Draco around the throat and squeezes. He slides his other hand into Draco’s pocket and pulls out his wand, holding it up for Draco to see. But Draco can only see stars.
“Tell me what you’re up to, Malfoy!”
Draco should be thrashing out, kicking back, but there is too much at stake. Besides, Harry is holding his wand and the brightness of Harry’s eyes frightens him. He’s seen Harry like this, teetering on the edge. Harry’s mates have always been able to reel him back in, calm him down. Draco used to wonder what would happen if Harry were left to his own devices, if it were one on one, if it were… like this.
He has a theory, but he’s been too busy to test it out.
Harry steps in and presses himself bodily against Draco. His hips are sharp, insistent, and his breath is hot against Draco’s cheek. Draco can’t help but tremble.
“I need to know what’s going on!”
Draco opens his mouth, but he can’t speak. Harry growls and squeezes harder, his fingernails digging into Draco’s skin. His other hand begins a slow slide up Draco’s chest, and neck, and the side of his face to press the tip of Draco’s wand against his temple. Draco shuts his eyes.
His body is going numb and all he can feel is his injured finger, pulsing, shooting pain up his hand and arm. He knows he’s dripping blood on the floor, and hopefully on Harry’s shirt, and he has an urge to smear it across Harry’s face.
“Tell me or I’ll fucking kill you!”
The words slice through Draco. He opens his eyes to find Harry glaring at him, teeth bared and suddenly Draco is extremely pissed off.
He’s not supposed to be ordered around, threatened by Harry Potter. He knows Harry isn’t familiar with his wand. He has the advantage because he’s been watching Harry all year. Harry’s chest and hips are pressed tight against him and Draco is overcome with a sudden urge, one that has lay dormant until just now.
He pushes off the wall and arches into Harry.
It’s only a theory, but Draco is thrilled-and terrified-to see and feel that he is right.
Harry stares at him, a mixture of surprise and fear in his eyes. It amazes Draco that Harry hasn’t figured it out before now, but perhaps teetering wasn’t enough, perhaps he needed a small push to realize the truth.
Harry’s fingers loosen around Draco’s neck and Draco shoves his arm easily away. It’s heady to be this right, to be the one to fling a door wide open, exposing truth after truth without thinking the wiser. It’s breathtaking, really, because Draco is discovering something about himself as well and his body is thrumming with anticipation-and Harry is not backing away.
They stare at each other, the silence marked only by the blood hammering in Draco’s ears. Then Harry drops Draco's wand to the floor and lunges again and Draco opens himself wide, catching Harry around the middle. They tumble to the floor and Draco slams his head against the stone, but he doesn’t care this time because Harry’s face is buried in his neck and Harry’s hands are everywhere at once, flinging open his robe, scratching and tearing and popping buttons, exposing Draco in fractions. Harry slides his mouth up Draco’s neck; he rolls his hips once, twice, and Draco sees stars all over again.
Harry kicks one of Draco’s legs apart and picks up speed, thrusting hard against Draco’s hip and thigh and-oh god-and Draco spreads his legs wider, doing his best to follow Harry’s desperate movements.
It’s fast and rough and it doesn’t mean anything when Harry slides his mouth, warm and wet, over Draco’s, kissing him with unabashed fervor, sucking on Draco’s tongue, licking and biting and exploring every inch of Draco’s mouth until Draco is moaning and grabbing Harry’s arse and pushing up, urging Harry over the edge once more because he needs to know this, too-because he is so close to picking up the pieces of his life-because he doesn’t think he will get another chance when everything falls into place.
Harry gasps against Draco’s mouth and stiffens. “Oh god oh fuck!”
Draco wraps a leg around Harry’s thigh and pushes up, rolling Harry onto his back. He rides him, crushing their hips together, hissing at the exhilarating pain and the way Harry squeezes his eyes shut and bucks beneath him, arching up again and again. Heat quickly pools in Draco’s belly and then he is coming, too, the sheer force of it making him see double. It has never felt like this before, not in all the years he’s touched himself, not even when Pansy snuck into his dormitory, climbed between his legs and sucked him clean. It’s raw and real and Draco feels like he’s being ripped in two. He’s completely undone, exposed, and he has never felt so alive.
Harry shudders beneath him and Draco slowly lifts his head. There is a scratch on Harry’s cheek and his lips are blood-red and swollen. Draco has an urge to kiss them, gently this time, but he doesn’t dare. Instead he reaches up and smoothes Harry’s hair away from his forehead, his fingers bumping over a thin groove, the tiniest of defects. Harry shivers against him.
“Sorry,” Draco mutters, pulling his hand away,
“It’s okay,” Harry says, smiling shyly. Then he winces. “You’re crushing me.”
“I'm sorry. I...” Draco climbs off Harry and backs up against the wall. He's tested a theory and, in the process, revealed more than he ever expected to. He’s been careless and stupid and he wants to blame Harry for the mess, but he can’t. Not this time. He almost can’t watch as Harry gets to his feet.
Harry turns his back and bends down, retrieving something from the floor. Then he twists back around, walks up to Draco and extends his hand. Clutched between his fingers is Draco’s wand.
“I, um, dropped this.”
“Oh…uh…” Heat rises in Draco’s cheeks and he shuts his mouth.
“I’m going to keep following you.” Harry frowns. “I have to.”
Draco nods. “I know.” He takes his wand from Harry’s hand; their fingers brush momentarily.
Harry takes a step back. “I should…” He exhales. “Good night, Malfoy.” He turns and walks away.
Draco watches Harry until he disappears around the corner. Then he lets his head fall back against the wall. “Good night,” he breathes.
A soft clattering sound echoes through the corridor and Draco drops his gaze to the floor in time to see his wand roll across the smooth stone, into darkness.
***
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It's all about JKR. I just like to make things up.
A/N: Written for xylodemon's I Didn't Get To Go To TWH Ficlet-a-thon
Dedication: For silly_frog.
***
Anything can happen in the woods
May I kiss you?
Any moment we could be crushed
Don't feel rushed
***
Draco has been watching Harry for years. He observes from afar, only to narrow his eyes when he steps in close and drags his wand out of his pocket, hissing threats that fall sour on his tongue.
It’s become habit, safe, and Draco isn’t interested in staying safe anymore. There are too many other variables, rising up like stepping stones, leading him down dark paths and long dungeon corridors. He’s going to stumble soon; he knows this because he can’t seem to find his way, not like his mother and father and aunt. He thinks there might be something wrong with him because everything in his life feels forced, like he’s merely going through the motions and constantly walking on eggshells. They’ll figure out soon enough that it’s all just an act. For now, though, he keeps his distance from his family and so-called friends and turns his attention to the one person who makes his life feel easy, predictable, even comfortable.
At first he thinks Harry knows something he doesn’t about coping with the notion of impending doom, but as the years wear on, Harry grows taller and thinner and more and more fearless. He snaps at teachers, lashes out at fellow students; he’s courageous to the point of stupid when even a hint of danger arises.
Draco doesn’t know how to cope like this, but watching Harry stalk about the castle, his eyes fiery with determination, Draco can’t help but feel a little undone.
So when Harry takes to following Draco with unrelenting determination during sixth year, Draco knows he's in big trouble.
Draco, of course, isn’t doing anything wrong. Well, not at the precise moment. He is merely on his way back to the dungeons after having spent half the night in the Room of Requirement. His head is pounding and he’s nursing a sliced finger. The cut is deep and he can’t remember the simple healing spell his mother used to recite when he was young and always getting into mischief. He should probably see Madame Pomfrey, but he doesn’t dare wake her, so he sticks his finger in his mouth and continues walking down the hall, as quietly as possible.
Rounding a corner, a torch blinks above him and the hair on the back of Draco’s neck prickles. Out of the corner of his eye a shadow shifts, then vanishes and he whirls around only to be greeted by darkness. His heart is pounding as he twists back around. He takes another step and freezes when a creaking sound echoes through the hall. Draco spins around just in time to see Harry Potter step out from behind a suit of armor.
Harry’s eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, his lips a thin white line. His hands, still dirty from an earlier Quiddich skirmish, curl into fists and Draco is momentarily stunned. Then Harry steps forward and Draco curses and begins wrestling with his robe, wincing as his sliced skin is torn open further. He can’t get his hand inside his pocket fast enough before Harry lunges…and punches Draco squarely in the jaw.
Draco stumbles backwards, his head slamming against the wall behind him. Harry stalks toward him, grasps Draco around the throat and squeezes. He slides his other hand into Draco’s pocket and pulls out his wand, holding it up for Draco to see. But Draco can only see stars.
“Tell me what you’re up to, Malfoy!”
Draco should be thrashing out, kicking back, but there is too much at stake. Besides, Harry is holding his wand and the brightness of Harry’s eyes frightens him. He’s seen Harry like this, teetering on the edge. Harry’s mates have always been able to reel him back in, calm him down. Draco used to wonder what would happen if Harry were left to his own devices, if it were one on one, if it were… like this.
He has a theory, but he’s been too busy to test it out.
Harry steps in and presses himself bodily against Draco. His hips are sharp, insistent, and his breath is hot against Draco’s cheek. Draco can’t help but tremble.
“I need to know what’s going on!”
Draco opens his mouth, but he can’t speak. Harry growls and squeezes harder, his fingernails digging into Draco’s skin. His other hand begins a slow slide up Draco’s chest, and neck, and the side of his face to press the tip of Draco’s wand against his temple. Draco shuts his eyes.
His body is going numb and all he can feel is his injured finger, pulsing, shooting pain up his hand and arm. He knows he’s dripping blood on the floor, and hopefully on Harry’s shirt, and he has an urge to smear it across Harry’s face.
“Tell me or I’ll fucking kill you!”
The words slice through Draco. He opens his eyes to find Harry glaring at him, teeth bared and suddenly Draco is extremely pissed off.
He’s not supposed to be ordered around, threatened by Harry Potter. He knows Harry isn’t familiar with his wand. He has the advantage because he’s been watching Harry all year. Harry’s chest and hips are pressed tight against him and Draco is overcome with a sudden urge, one that has lay dormant until just now.
He pushes off the wall and arches into Harry.
It’s only a theory, but Draco is thrilled-and terrified-to see and feel that he is right.
Harry stares at him, a mixture of surprise and fear in his eyes. It amazes Draco that Harry hasn’t figured it out before now, but perhaps teetering wasn’t enough, perhaps he needed a small push to realize the truth.
Harry’s fingers loosen around Draco’s neck and Draco shoves his arm easily away. It’s heady to be this right, to be the one to fling a door wide open, exposing truth after truth without thinking the wiser. It’s breathtaking, really, because Draco is discovering something about himself as well and his body is thrumming with anticipation-and Harry is not backing away.
They stare at each other, the silence marked only by the blood hammering in Draco’s ears. Then Harry drops Draco's wand to the floor and lunges again and Draco opens himself wide, catching Harry around the middle. They tumble to the floor and Draco slams his head against the stone, but he doesn’t care this time because Harry’s face is buried in his neck and Harry’s hands are everywhere at once, flinging open his robe, scratching and tearing and popping buttons, exposing Draco in fractions. Harry slides his mouth up Draco’s neck; he rolls his hips once, twice, and Draco sees stars all over again.
Harry kicks one of Draco’s legs apart and picks up speed, thrusting hard against Draco’s hip and thigh and-oh god-and Draco spreads his legs wider, doing his best to follow Harry’s desperate movements.
It’s fast and rough and it doesn’t mean anything when Harry slides his mouth, warm and wet, over Draco’s, kissing him with unabashed fervor, sucking on Draco’s tongue, licking and biting and exploring every inch of Draco’s mouth until Draco is moaning and grabbing Harry’s arse and pushing up, urging Harry over the edge once more because he needs to know this, too-because he is so close to picking up the pieces of his life-because he doesn’t think he will get another chance when everything falls into place.
Harry gasps against Draco’s mouth and stiffens. “Oh god oh fuck!”
Draco wraps a leg around Harry’s thigh and pushes up, rolling Harry onto his back. He rides him, crushing their hips together, hissing at the exhilarating pain and the way Harry squeezes his eyes shut and bucks beneath him, arching up again and again. Heat quickly pools in Draco’s belly and then he is coming, too, the sheer force of it making him see double. It has never felt like this before, not in all the years he’s touched himself, not even when Pansy snuck into his dormitory, climbed between his legs and sucked him clean. It’s raw and real and Draco feels like he’s being ripped in two. He’s completely undone, exposed, and he has never felt so alive.
Harry shudders beneath him and Draco slowly lifts his head. There is a scratch on Harry’s cheek and his lips are blood-red and swollen. Draco has an urge to kiss them, gently this time, but he doesn’t dare. Instead he reaches up and smoothes Harry’s hair away from his forehead, his fingers bumping over a thin groove, the tiniest of defects. Harry shivers against him.
“Sorry,” Draco mutters, pulling his hand away,
“It’s okay,” Harry says, smiling shyly. Then he winces. “You’re crushing me.”
“I'm sorry. I...” Draco climbs off Harry and backs up against the wall. He's tested a theory and, in the process, revealed more than he ever expected to. He’s been careless and stupid and he wants to blame Harry for the mess, but he can’t. Not this time. He almost can’t watch as Harry gets to his feet.
Harry turns his back and bends down, retrieving something from the floor. Then he twists back around, walks up to Draco and extends his hand. Clutched between his fingers is Draco’s wand.
“I, um, dropped this.”
“Oh…uh…” Heat rises in Draco’s cheeks and he shuts his mouth.
“I’m going to keep following you.” Harry frowns. “I have to.”
Draco nods. “I know.” He takes his wand from Harry’s hand; their fingers brush momentarily.
Harry takes a step back. “I should…” He exhales. “Good night, Malfoy.” He turns and walks away.
Draco watches Harry until he disappears around the corner. Then he lets his head fall back against the wall. “Good night,” he breathes.
A soft clattering sound echoes through the corridor and Draco drops his gaze to the floor in time to see his wand roll across the smooth stone, into darkness.
***