Rating: R
Keywords: Harry/Draco Slash Homoerotica
Summary: Harry/Draco homo-erotica. A series of vignettes set against a background of civil unrest and the impending war. Voldemort’s latest attack on the Wizard populace forces the question Draco must answer, for soon he will have to choose between what’s right and the path chosen for him. In a time of turmoil, and as antagonism fades, Harry and Draco find strength and solace in each other’s company. Evocative, sensual and erotic. Also note that Chapter numbering has no bearing whatsoever in the timeline *G* — look at the header to see when the event happens.

Special thanks to (in alphabetical order) Plumeria, Rhysenn and Starkiller for the immaculate no-holds-barred beta. This story was written because Frances Potter asked for the back story for Breaking Barriers: Departure.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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* * * * * * *

The sound of chairs scraping on the flagstones jerks me out of my stupor. Lately I find it hard to concentrate - the nightly lessons Dumbledore arranges for us in preparation for the impending war leaves me tired and listless. I remain in my seat, gathering my thoughts as the footsteps fade in the distance.

The threat of war is becoming real. Only last week Voldemort's army struck yet again. The battle was one sided - families stumbled from their beds to run onto legion wand points. Villages were set afire and the people were cut down by the hissing death curses as they fled.

What can we do? For the first time in my life I am truly scared. I cannot express the fear and horror that I feel, and I often wonder of my father's part in all these atrocities. Was he there, casting the killing curse on the hapless children as they ran for cover?

I never doubted it. Father can be ruthless and single minded in his actions. And his devotion to the cause is unwavering. For years I have been a shadow of my Father's, parroting his bigoted views without truly understanding the full import of my actions. I wasn't even allowed to make my own friends. Everything was planned for me, and I was a pawn in father's drive for fame and glory. I cannot bear it anymore. The shame is tearing me apart, and I feel like I am losing my mind.

Does he expect me to follow in his footsteps; to be a killer for a cause that I no longer believe in? The answer is probably yes. But can I do it, when it is not what I want?

I sit still for long moments, not caring if I am alone in the cold classroom as the night grows older. Nothing can heal the loneliness and pain inside me; I have never had any real friends, except for associates who are there under my father's order - no doubt - to keep an eye on me, to make sure I stay in line and, as father is wont to say, play nice. I have no idea how long I sit wallowing in self-pity, but when I finally look up I am surprised to see him sitting a few seats away, just as still. His elbows rest on the table, his chin rest on his interlaced fingers. He has that far away look as he gazes at the dying fire.

Harry.

I study him as always. I have spent years watching him, watching his every move as he matures from the innocent wide-eyed orphan I first met in Diagon Alley into the fascinating young man he now is. We have finally come to an understanding and resolved our undirected hatred towards each other. Lately, we have dropped our antagonism and find to our mutual surprise that we are not really that different after all.

We both have appalling home life, and for him Hogwarts is his home; a place where he can be accepted for what he is, and not treated like some freak of nature. Although I am not inclined to admit it, I feel much the same way.

Now that I have set my prejudices aside, I can begin to understand the bitter hatred that he feels for the Dark Lord. Harry is no one's pawn; he may have been guided when he was younger, but there is no mistaking the powerful wizard he has become. His past trials have made him aware of a part of his psyche that other wizards never consider, and he has conquered the fears that prevent him from living fully.

As our antagonism fades, I begin to see him differently. He is fiercely independent, and sometimes generous to a fault. When others still have their suspicions against me, he is always there, not showing in words, but rather in his actions that he is willing to accept me. He gives me the chance to redeem myself.

And this has left me astounded.

Years of mutually nurtured hatred can never disappear overnight; it takes time, and we feel the change slowly but surely. I no longer make hurtful and snide remarks at his friends, and I am surprised that I need not employ such childish tactics to attract his attention. His friends are fiercely protective of him and are not as forgiving, and only God knows how he manages to persuade them to allow me another chance.

Our friendship has become open and comfortable. We are no longer afraid to be seen in each other's company, and lately we have become more demonstrative with each other. We could share a joke, laugh, and smile and touch one another as friends are wont to do. And now, it's no longer odd to see us walk shoulder to shoulder, or arm around shoulder, and sometimes we even sit together in class. I will occasionally ruffle his dishevelled hair, much to his amusement, and his low laughter fills my heart with a secret joy.

Many a night I have lain in my bed, wondering to myself. So, this is what it really means to be friends. Someone to share one's triumph and tribulation with, by just being there and making no demands in return. This is something that has eluded me all my life, something that I have been searching for.

His friends began to slowly accept our friendship; perhaps not me, per se but they are no longer vociferous in their objections and well-meant concern. This gladdens me.

And then something happens.

I realise I am falling in love with Harry Potter.

* * * * * * *

The classroom is empty save for the two of us. I gather my book bag and approach him softly. He has his eyes shut, a crease worrying his forehead. I wonder what he is thinking of just then, it disturbs me to think someone so young is burdened with such adult responsibilities. Does he like it, basking in the glory of being the hero of the Wizarding world, the saviour to the masses? Somehow I doubt it.

He looks so young and vulnerable as he sits there, hunching a little, with his glasses pushed to the top of his head. I am not sure if he is aware of my presence, until he calls out softly. Just a single word: Draco. He makes no attempt to move as I stand beside him and touch his arm gently. He opens his eyes and fixes me with a simple smile. I smile in return, as I squeeze his upper arm gently.

He drops his hands onto the table and lays his head down, his eyes never breaking contact with mine. I watch in detached fascination as my fingers move on their own accord - trailing up his arm, stroking his shoulder, collarbone, and finally entangling in his hair. He gives a soft sigh.

Emboldened, I tuck his hair behind his ear - my fingers lingering longer than necessary, before brushing softly against his jaw. He watches me intently, his green eyes keeps me in thrall, and a smile lifts his lips as my hands move hesitantly to rest on his shoulders, my fingers gently massaging the tension away. He sighs contentedly, as the knots relaxes under my touch. He doesn't speak, and I am glad. I want to touch him so badly; the feeling of his warmth through the layers of his clothes leaves me breathless.

He turns around and clasps my hands, and he runs his thumbs in circles on the skin on the back of my hands. My heart skips a beat as he interlaces his fingers with mine, and then another, as he gazes at me and slowly lifts one of my hands to his lips...and kisses it. I inhale sharply, my eyes widening in secret joy. His eyes smile at me, and he makes to release my hands, but I clutch wildly, not willing to let him go.

Eyes lock on each other.

Draco, he breathes, and I nod solemnly, as I raise his hands to my face and press my lips against the soft, smooth skin, first one hand, and then the other. He pulls one of his hands free, and then he glances at me, and I am struck by the intensity in his eyes. His hand curves around my waist and pulls me closer, until my knees bump into his; and closer still as he parts his knees and pulls me between his legs. He rests his head on my chest, arm circling my waist in a light embrace. I raise my free hand and stroke his hair, as if it is the most natural thing for me to do.

Then his fingers release mine, only to return briefly to caress my back - up my spine, fingers brushing against the nape of my neck, then back down and lower still until they rest on the curve of my back. I reach tentatively to stroke his face as I stare at him wordlessly, and our eyes lock once more. The openness in those eyes captivates me, and then he pulls back, releasing his hold on me. He smiles, stands up and stretches languidly, hiding a yawn behind his long, tapered fingers. Everything he does is magnetising me, just the way it has all these years.

He glances at his wristwatch, and I realise it is well past midnight, and the castle is silent. It's late, he says quietly, his hand brushing against mine, his little finger hooking mine. I look at him for long moments, and steel my resolve.

I touch his arm lightly. Stay with me, I breathe, so softly I am not sure if it isn't all in my mind. My heartbeat seems over-loud and a chill crawls up my spine as he studies my face intently, his expression blank as it always becomes when he tries to hide his emotions. Then his features soften and he smiles. I look away, a mixture of confused emotions churning inside me. Then I feel his fingers tracing my cheek tenderly, turning my face towards him, and compelling me to lock eyes with him once more.

Say it again, he murmurs, and I shiver at the intimate brush of his breath against my cheek, and try to suppress a sigh as his hand touches the nape of my neck, rubbing lightly.

I slide my eyes shut and lean closer, my fingers tightening the grip on his arms. I turn my face towards his, our lips almost touching, and I can feel his warm breath on my skin. Stay with me, I implore, my voice even lower than usual.

A sigh escapes me as he brushes his lips against my temple, his breath stirring my hair lightly. An arm curves around my waist and he pulls me closer, enveloping me in a warm embrace. And my troubles vanish, my fears and insecurities for the future vaporise in the ether - to be replaced by a feeling of security, comfort and tranquillity. I tremble, both at the turn my thoughts have taken and at the feel of his body flush against mine. I realise with sudden clarity that he will protect me and keep me safe - no matter what the cost will be. I choke down a sob as I relax against him, nuzzling lightly into his neck. I release his arms before reaching out again to link my arms behind his shoulders, and smile as I feel his arms tighten around my waist, pressing me closer to him.

I squeeze my eyes tighter as he brushes his lips tentatively against mine, chastely. A low purr escapes me, and I open my eyes cautiously and smile. I imagine I can hear our twin heartbeats pound in counterpoint to one another, the beat getting faster by the moment. And then I am lost, as he kisses me on my cheek, lingering slowly against my ear. Our eyes meet and I see the question there, and I nod my assent silently.

Then he kisses me again, and it isn't chaste. I cling tightly, afraid lest my knees give way should I let go. Harry, I gasp into his mouth, as his hand holds the back of my head, so that I cannot escape the embrace. I stagger backwards under the force of his embrace; the edge of the bench presses against the back of my knees, and I stumble backwards, pulling him down on top of me. All rational thoughts abandon me, not daring to think what would happen if Filch or one of the teachers were to walk in just then.

I tremble violently and I dig my nails into his shoulders, raking down his back as he covers my cheeks, my eyelids, my temple and my neck with half desperate kisses. And when our lips meet in mutual hunger, a muffled groan escapes me, and all I wanted at that moment is to be with him and keep him safe.

He is silent for a moment, and pulls away. I clutch desperately at the air, aching at the sudden loss of contact, and I close my eyes, afraid to open them and find him gone. I lay still, willing for my heartbeat to slow, my hands dropping limply to cover my face.

Moments pass before I have the courage to sit up and open my eyes, and when I look up he is there, an arm's length away. Suddenly he crouches beside me, and his hands curve gently around my waist, pulling me against him. I feel his lips brush against my face, and the gentle whisper in my ear.

* * * * * * *

Silence reigns as the footsteps fade down the corridor. The classroom is empty, save for his presence as he remains behind, lost as usual in the emotional turmoil that seems to burden him lately. I glance sideways as I feel the wave of anger mixed with despair and sadness emanate from him, piercing through his emotional shield. The intensity of his emotions saddens me, and I wish desperately I could do something - anything to take it away. The thought brings a cynical smile as I study him - the bowed blond head, the seemingly fragile figure of the one person with whom I have spent the last five years of my life in mutual antagonism.

Honestly, I do not know where his loyalty lies, nor do I allow it to overly burden me. After all, it is now a known fact that his father is a prominent member of Voldemort's inner circle. But as our antagonism faded, I realised that he is his own person, a separate entity from the elder Malfoy.

Delicious it was, the hatred between us, or so I thought.

Yet strangely, what is more delicious is our newly forged friendship. We are so much alike, he and I. Lately, we find ourselves spending more time in each other's company - as if to make up for the time lost during the years of undirected hostility. Fate has seen it fit to throw us together, and our mutual enemy has made us strange bedfellows; something to thank the Dark Lord for at last.

What bothers me is my growing attraction for him. An attraction that grows deeper daily, and transcends gender and all other rational reasons.

He draws nearer to me, his footsteps soft on the flagstones, and I will my heart to be still. He is so close now, and I imagine I can smell the warmth of his skin. I call to him quietly.

A thrill runs through my body as he lays his hand on my arm. It seems we are talking and not talking; true silent voices that do not have any words. I can't help but touch him in return, and the experience liberates me. Our eyes lock several times over, his grey eyes rove apprehensively as I stand and make to gather my book bag. I search his face, and notice the slight curling of his fingers, the way he breathes through his mouth - unmistakable signs of his inner tension. I touch his hand briefly, wanting to calm him and to drive away whatever fear is haunting him now.

And when he asks me to stay, he seems heartbreakingly innocent and sincere.

A mad thought comes over me.

My hands move on him, and I hold him closer than I ever dare, demanding him to repeat his request. And when he does, all rational thoughts desert me; I caress him as if he belongs to me, and his acquiescence emboldens me.

* * * * * * *

He takes my hand and leads me down the maze of corridors. The castle is silent and the passages deserted as we walk deeper and deeper under the school. I feel his grip loosen on me as he pauses before a patch of bare damp stone wall. He turns towards me, his eyes searching, yet the question remains unvoiced. I trace a finger along his jaw, and cup his cheek lightly. I nod in assent. He watches, pleased, and nuzzles lightly into my touch. I can feel him brimming with affection and a satisfaction almost as strong as mine.

He makes to say the password, but I hold him back lightly. He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. I withdraw my wand and quickly seal us in a soundproofed sphere. There is no need for carelessness; we cannot afford to be careless - not now, not ever. He nods, and whispers the password. A stone door swings open in the wall, and his grip becomes firm again as he guides me through the long, low underground room, and finally into a hallway where a pair of torches provide an ample light.

He pauses by a door and presses his ear against the wood; a little mischief comes into his expression. He makes to draw his wand, but I grip his wrist lightly, and silence his protest by pressing a finger to his lips. I shake my head and he seems to understand; he pushes the door open slowly and I cast a sleeping spell on his dorm mates.

He leads me to his bed, toes off his shoes and draws the drapes. I follow and settle back against a post as he reaches over to set up a ward to seal us in, before turning to glance at me.

No words are spoken.

I make some little nervous gesture, pushing my fringe back off my forehead, and slide my glasses off, unsure of what to do. For a moment I study him in the soft blue wand light, and I hold out my hands and reach out for him.

He lets his smile broaden as he crawls towards me, the soft white-blond fringe falling gently over his forehead, obscuring the sparkle in his eyes. He kneels before me, and tilts his head to one side, a small endearing smile dancing on his lips. He brushes his fingers lightly against my chest, before taking back his hands, and letting them fall in loose curls on his lap, palms upwards. I move closer until our knees bump together, and pull him gently into the circle of my arms, surrounding him instantly, warming him. He sighs and drops his head on my shoulder, his hands running up and down my back, tracing languid circles in their wake.

He looks at me coyly from under his fringe, and I chuckle lightly as I pull him upright on his knees; we kneel chest to chest, his hands resting boldly on my hips. I shift my knee forward and tip him back, burying my face in his neck and marking his smooth skin. He gasps, twisting his hands into the fabric of my clothes and pulling me closer. I grin into his bare skin and suck harder as he digs his nails into my back and mewls softly. I pull back momentarily to drink in his expression, and the sight of his half-parted lips and closed eyes brings a primal desire surging through me. He tightens his grip and tilts his head to one side to give me better access to his neck. I seize the opportunity and mark him once more, and smile in satisfaction as the crimson mark blossoms on his pale skin.

He opens his eyes as I press him down on the bed, his body trapped between my legs. I try to ignore my growing arousal as I straddle him, and plant a quick kiss on his lips. Then I release him and watch his face intently. His breath is coming in ragged gasps; his grey eyes have darkened with a primal lust, and his skin is hot and flushed under my hands. I shift to sit on his legs and stare in fascination as he licks his lips slowly and pushes himself up into a sitting position.

Harry, he whispers sensuously, his gaze holding me in thrall. He divests himself of his jumper and shirt in a smooth movement, leaving his upper body bare. I can't take my eyes off him even if I try. I am mesmerised by his beauty, and the animal desire that rolls off him in smouldering waves. Harry, he repeats, as he brushes his fingers against my groin, a wicked smile crossing fleetingly on his face as I jerk involuntarily against his touch. I hold myself in check, as I suppress my desire to pin him down and ravish him senseless.

His fingers brush brazenly against my groin once more, and he smiles seductively. Give, he whispers silkily. I break out of my paralysis, a predatory smile curling my lips. I push him roughly onto his back, and give him what he wants.

* * * * * * *

His hands feel good as they roam over my bare skin, alternately gentle and cruel - first

tracing leisurely circles, then scratching abruptly, raising welts on my arms and back. But no matter - I am far too insensate as I stare at the canopy of my bed. His jumper feels rough against my sensitised skin, yet his lips are cool against my throat as he marks my skin with a string of bites. He is so close, and I breathe in his unique scent as I turn my face and bury my face in his hair. I run a questing hand on his dishevelled mane and pull sharply. His response is instant, he digs his nails into my back and bites me hard. I gasp at the heady combination of pain and pleasure, and pull harder.

He becomes still and raises himself on all fours with deliberate slowness. His eyes spark dangerously, and his smile broadens. Play nice, he reminds me, but his expression belies his words. The mock aggression is turning him on more than he cares to admit, and I laugh as I rise on my elbows and bite his chin playfully. He rolls his eyes in mock horror and tumbles onto his side, and I notice with detached amusement my fingers are still tangled in his hair.

He fixes me with his gaze, and I find myself mesmerised by the depth of emotions I see there. He swallows, and runs a finger down my abdomen, lower and lower, swirling it in the depression of my navel and moving lower still. I feel my breath becoming laboured as I try to slow my racing heart, but I can't tear myself away from his eyes. I gasp sharply as his hands brush against my groin fleetingly, and his grin widens as he realises how aroused I am.

For a moment panic grips me, and I almost bolt from the bed. Give, he teases, echoing my earlier taunt as he presses me back into the pillows and covers me with his body. I can do nothing but shudder violently, his aggression arousing me further. The blood pounds in my head, and my arms fall limply to my sides as my fingers clutch at the blankets.

He shifts and straddles my hips, pressing down on my pelvis and laughing lightly as a hiss escapes me. He places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me underneath him. He bends closer until our foreheads bump together, and his lips form a question. What, I cannot tell, as the pounding in my ears drowns all sound and drives all rational thoughts away.

All I want is him. To be with me, to belong to me.

My head is dizzy with excitement, and I buck underneath him, causing him to moan with pleasure. He shifts his hips off me and I take the opportunity to slither underneath him, until my face comes directly under his belly. I grab at his jumper and slide it up, as I run my tongue slowly along his stomach. He gasps and nearly topples off the bed, but I grip him hard by the hips and repeat the act.

He growls and hauls me up by my hair, and shoves me roughly against the pillows. I have hardly stopped bouncing on the bed when he lunges at me, sealing my mouth with his, cutting off any possible protest. But I am not inclined to protest, as I enjoy the brusque treatment he gives me - his actions leave me breathless and my body screams for more. I grin against his lips, recalling our oft-brutal treatment towards each other as we battled during Quidditch, duels and the rare corridor scuffles. He presses harder as I roll my hips under him, and I listen in perverse satisfaction as he gasps into my mouth. He pins me down with his body and I feel his tongue pressing into my mouth, and I take him deep, our bodies shuddering in joint ecstasy.

A rational part of my brain realises he still has his jumper on, and I yank at it roughly. I want his naked skin against mine, and I want it now. He releases me, enough to sit up and wrench his clothes over his head, tossing them haphazardly into a corner. I laugh as I catch the impish glint in his eyes. My laughter dies in my throat as he grabs at my waistband, slipping the top button off. He pauses, and looks into my face.

And when his voice comes, it is low and almost teasing - and I have to concentrate to hear it: Can I?

I am unable to look away. Dear god, this is desire. This is love. Then I feel his magical energy enveloping me, and a pulse of thought he sends me makes me realise that I have been very foolish to think it will not be so.

We hold each other's gaze in the wavering light.

I think I hear myself say: Yes.

And he answers: And I you.

* * * * * * *

I have been disciplined in self-control since I was too young to remember. But with Harry, every shred of my control disappears. I surrender to him, his hands caressing my newly naked skin; touching me hesitantly at first, then growing bolder. And his hands and lips are everywhere - gripping my hair, tracing languid circles on my skin, running up and down my chest, pressing gently at the depression on my navel. Then he moves lower, and I feel the soft brush of his lips on my inner thighs. I clutch at his hair desperately as I gasp breathlessly.

And his lips, oh god, his lips trace gentle kisses on my calves, then move lower to my ankles. I twitch involuntarily as he sucks my toes, nipping occasionally. I feel a rumble as he chuckles, watching my reaction. He slides his body up my calves and rests briefly. He smiles at me impishly as he grabs my left ankle and pushes it back, until my leg bends at the knee. I look at him in wonder, and he winks.

Give, he teases, and I jerk as he runs his tongue along my inner thigh, up from the knee and higher still until his face is buried in my groin. I can't stop the scream that escapes me, and I bite hard on my hand, my eyes snapping open as the bolts of pleasure shoot up my belly. He presses my body down and repeats the act. My eyes snap shut and my hands fall limply by my side.

He laughs lightly and crawls up my body, his tone teasing and yet tender. He gathers me in his arms, and whispers soothing words to calm me as he kisses my face and interlaces his fingers in mine. He smiles that sweet innocent smile, and my heart skips a beat. I lie boneless in his embrace as he strokes me, waiting for my heartbeat to slow, my body to calm.

I nuzzle into his shoulder and curve my hand around his waist. I nudge my knee between his legs and clamp my leg across his thighs. I tighten my grip on his waist and curl a foot under his calves, and run my toes in circles on his skin as I press myself against his belly, none too gently. He grins and slaps me lightly.

We lie unmoving for long moments, taking comfort in each other's warmth. He strokes my face gently, and traces his thumb on my lips; I run my tongue over his fingers, eliciting a warm purr in response. He kisses my forehead tenderly and pulls me closer. The insanity of our current situation hits me, and I laugh. He raises an eyebrow quizzically, and I shrug, dispelling any doubt - mine or his it does not matter. I place a lingering kiss on his lips, my hand moving down his belly until my fingers brush softly against his groin. He grins and shifts slightly and I become aware of my own hardening flesh pressing against his thigh. I cup his face and hold his eyes as I press down harder. He lets go of my shoulders, his hands move silkily down my sides before coming to rest around my buttocks and he pulls me brusquely.

I gasp and grind my hips against his, just as he bucks, and the sensation sends me reeling. He seizes the chance and rolls me under him once again, his legs straddling mine. He chuckles, his tone low and sexy; his eyes focus on mine and I feel a flush through my skin. He grabs both my wrists and pins them on either side of my head, and presses me harder into the pillows. I struggle in mock resistance and his grip tightens, then I feel his knee nudging my legs apart, his skin warm on my inner thighs.

He tilts his chin, his fringe hiding his eyes and he smiles wickedly. A thrill courses through me, and I clench my fingers convulsively. He lowers himself and settles against me, my legs on either side of his hips. I feel his breath warming my skin, and I lick my lips nervously.

Harry, please, I whisper, unsure what else to say. I lean up to kiss his cheek and then move to his lips. He laughs quietly and dodges for a moment, the very act teasing me, before he relents and I seal my lips against his. I close my eyes and surrender to the deliciously wicked sensations. He wriggles and murmurs a soft sound of pleasure as my legs tightly clasp his hips. Emboldened, I press up into him. He growls and pushes me brusquely into the pillows, and I can't help but gasp in pleasure.

Mmm, he hums as he buries his face in my neck and marks me once more. I arch my back just as he grinds down, and we are melding against each other - skin to skin, hot and flushed with mutual desire. I lock my ankles around his back and dig my heels in, forcing him closer, as if I can fuse our bodies together. He lets out a sharp hiss and bites me harder.

Draco, he gasps as I press harder, his face flush with arousal. He releases my left wrist and strokes my hair back from my face, moving to cup my cheek, his eyes asking me for consent. I turn my face and nuzzle into his palm and kiss it tenderly.

I nod, unable to speak and he smiles warmly. I lift my hand to cup his head gently and pull him down to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. My ankles unlock, and slide down his sides. He nods and moves lower, his breath leaving a warm trail on my skin, and his tongue slides silkily - lower, and lower still. I hold my breath as I realise what he is doing, but I can't help jerking when his mouth closes over me.

I strain to free my wrist, but he grips me harder; when I struggle, he increases his pressure, his mouth achingly hot and wet against my sensitised skin. I lose all coherent thoughts as the sensation overpowers me, sending bolts of pleasure ripping through my body. I think I scream, but I can't be sure. A knot tightens deep in my belly and I screw my eyes shut. Nervous sweat dampens my forehead as my fists scrabble at the bedclothes, my free hand moving to grab his shoulder, his hair, and pulling roughly as the knot tightens further. I arch my back, heels digging into the mattress, and shout incoherently as he takes me deeper, pleasuring me in a myriad of ways. My muscles tense, my breath ragged as I spiral over the edge.

I never knew losing control could be so intense. I shiver, with cold or pleasure I do not care. My knees fall limply on his sides as I sigh, insensate. He pulls back and crawls up my body, pausing to place tender kisses on my belly, my chest and my throat. I moan as he caresses my cheek, and I slowly open my eyes. His expression is beyond innocence, and my heart swells with love for him. But I cannot tell him, I dare not confess. I reach up and kiss him deeply, savouring the bittersweetness on his tongue. His energy envelops me, lulling me possessively.

He releases my wrist and my hands move onto his shoulders, stroking him as I bury my face in his neck, my fingers tracing patterns on his skin - mine - over and over. He presses his lips to my ear and whispers my name repeatedly, Draco, Draco, Draco, like a mantra. I sigh contentedly, and then gasp as he presses urgently against my belly.

My body responds automatically. If I am truly honest I do not know what I am doing, or what I am about to do. I have never allowed anyone to touch me before, but with him my inhibitions vanish as a primal desire take control. I open my eyes and focus on his face, and what I see mirrored in the darkened emeralds of his eyes takes my breath away. I pull him down and kiss him. It isn't chaste.

Harry, I whisper hoarsely. Do it to me, please. I blink, and my body stiffens, unable to believe my ears. I feel myself blushing deeply and I tear my gaze away. He must sense my nervousness as he reaches up to grip my chin, turning my face towards him and pacifying me with a small kiss on the corner of my lips. I feel his lips curve in amusement against my skin as he runs his hand up and down my sides, as if to calm me.

When he speaks, I am startled by his amazing display of self-control, and I have to concentrate to hear him. I want you so much, he says with conviction, and his eyes communicate what remains unvoiced - that he will never take advantage of me. I nod mutely, catching my breath as it occurs to me just how serious this is. He lightens his hold on me and I relax into his embrace.

I let my hands slide down, curving gently on his hips as I trace the word mine repeatedly on his skin. I shift and draw my legs together as I reach into the space between us and touch him lightly. He jerks then sighs contentedly. He buries his face on my neck, his lashes tickling my skin softly, and his breath is warm on my sweat slicked skin. I raise a hand and cradle the back of his head gently and whisper in his ear, And I you.

I stroke him, hesitantly at first, and when he shudders, my touch become bolder. He murmurs against my shoulder, and his hand slides behind my back, the other gripping my arm, as if holding for dear life. His breath become harsher as my caress becomes faster; our sweat slick bodies sliding against each other. I grasp him, push down and trap him between my thighs. His grin fades as he gasps, and I grunt as he slithers against me, my nerves screaming from the friction of his skin against mine. A delicious shiver runs through me, and I grab his buttocks and pull brusquely, and when he bites down hard on my neck, I cannot help but mewl with pleasure.

We rock against each other in abandon, our pelvises grinding as if to fuse our bodies together. He lifts his hand to tangle roughly in my tousled hair, sending sharp arrows of pain through my skin, but I no longer care. He lunges at me, sealing my mouth in a searing kiss. I arch my back just as he grinds down, and the sensation almost sends me toppling over the edge of consciousness.

Then he calls my name, over and over as his movements become frantic and I cannot help but to cry out his name in return. Our bodies intertwine in frenzy, our voices shamelessly loud, but we are beyond caring as we make the crossover from tension to relief.

We lie still as our heartbeats slow, warm and content in each other's arms. He traces my face reverently, as if to fix it in his memory. I sigh and turn my face to kiss his palm briefly before turning back to focus on his eyes. What I see there leaves me breathless, suddenly speechless.

His smile broadens, his face suffuse with pleasure. I breathe deeply and look away, because looking at him is so heartbreakingly wonderful that it hurts. I bite my lips and blink my eyes rapidly, fighting back the tears of happiness that threatens to spill. I wish I could say what I really wanted. That I love him, and I need him; but I dare not. The feeling is too intense and it terrifies me.

He must have sensed my mood shift, and he kisses my forehead gently, his fingers caressing my cheeks, my eyes, my nose, my lips - as if to calm me. He shifts slightly off me, and our eyes lock once again. He looks at me for long moments, a deep fascination etched in his eyes. He brushes a finger lightly against my lashes, as if to wipe the tears away. My breath hitches and I bow my head, unable to hold his gaze.

Then he rolls off me and pulls me gently into his arms, his left hand curling behind my shoulder possessively. I pull the covers over our bodies and settle against him as if it's the most natural thing for us to do. I curve my left arm across his chest and bury my forehead against his shoulder, my left leg curling across his thighs. I chuckle, and nuzzle closer. He tightens his grip on my shoulder and looks at me in mock horror, unable to keep his face entirely straight.

I feel a tightening in the region of my heart, and suddenly everything is crystal clear. I know then, no matter what, I can never give him up.

* * * * * * *

The morning is too empty after he has gone. I lie still in the nest of blankets, nestling against the lingering warmth he left there. I stare at canopy of my bed, my mind thinking of him, just as it has always all these years, but today, something has changed.

I can only think of him now, that he is with me. Old rules don't matter to me; I want to break every single one of them.

It is the other war that is going to happen, sooner or later. The war against the Dark Lord; the one in which we will all come together.

And with him, I know I will no longer be alone.

~ FINIS ~

© Zed Adams
- Started: Oct 22, 2002
- Completed: Nov 7, 2002




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