Sunday, 16 March 2003

“It’s about time,” Pansy snapped when Draco stepped into his bedroom.

“What are you doing here?”

“So you really ot,” she huffed. “We were supposed to have dinner.”

“Oh.” He didn’t even remember making plans with her. He felt too exhausted to rack his brain or even have a normal conversation. He just wanted to collapse and never get up again.

e on, if we go now, we can still—Draco?”

He had sunken to his knees, pressing his palms against the cold floor.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” He felt Pansy’s hands on his back as she knelt down in front of him. “Merlin, you’re shaking. Draco, what happened?”

“I—I can’t—” Stubbornly, he tried to hold back the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“Talk to me,” Pansy said, her voice full of concern. She pulled him closer, forcing his arms to collapse, until his head was resting in her lap. Without thinking, he grabbed at her dress, clinging to it as if that would lessen the pain.

“I—” He gulped. “I broke up with Astoria.”

He felt Pansy stiffen. “What? But—You—”

Draco pressed his face into her thighs. He just wanted the pain to stop. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, Draco!” She cradled his head with one hand, while the other started stroking his hair. “How did she react?”

Pansy knew of their arrangement. She knew how much pressure they had been under.

“She was far too understanding,” he whimpered. Unlike mother, he added in his head. He knew she wanted him to be happy and maybe she’de around eventually, but there was no doubt she would be hurt. He could already picture the disappointment in her eyes. Draco hated that. But there had been no other way. He couldn’t go through with it.

“You did the right thing, Draco. Our parents shouldn’t dictate every move we make. Not anymore. Not when ites to this.”

Deep down, Draco agreed. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have broken up with Astoria. And it wasn’t like he had broken her heart. He knew she wasn’t in love with him. But still, he had ruined their plans.

He had ruined everything.

Thursday, April 10 2003

Draco startled when green flames suddenly erupted in the fireplace of his parlour and a very angry-looking Harry Potter stomped out of it.

“You bastard,” he yelled.

“What the fuck, Potter! What are you doing here?”

Potter ignored his question and, without warning, lunged at Draco, grabbing him by his collar.

“You should have told me,” he growled. “You should have told me you broke off the engagement.”

Draco stared at him, bewildered. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. You should have been the one to tell me.”

“I didn’t break up with Astoria because of you,” Draco said, very aware that he sounded like a stubborn child.

“Oh?” Potter said. He sounded far too cocky. “Why then?”

“That’s none of your business,” Draco grumbled and tried to wriggle himself out of Potter’s grip.

“I think you’re lying,” Potter said, his eyes narrowing. “There’s no way you’d go against your parents’ wishes unless there’s a very good reason for it. And don’t tell me this wasn’t their idea!”

“Oh, and you think you’re that reason?” Draco sneered.

“Tell me I’m not,” Potter challenged, raising his chin. Draco’s eyes darted down to his mouth, so close to his own. His breath caught in his throat when Potter’s grip tightened, pulling Draco closer to him. “Tell me I’m not the reason you broke up with her.”

“You—You—You’re not—” Draco crumbled under the scrutiny of Potter’s eyes. Before it was too late, he pushed him away. “Fuck you, Potter,” he shouted.

Potter glowered at him, closing the gap between them in one swift motion.

“You’re a fucking liar,” he growled and wound his hands into Draco’s hair. It wasn’t as rough as Draco had expected. “You’re a liar,” Potter repeated and slowly tilted Draco’s head to the side.

Draco didn’t want to, he really, really didn’t want to, but he let out a gasp when Potter’s lips brushed against his neck.

“What—What about your little boy toy?”

“I broke up with him,” Potter grunted, making Draco shudder when he licked the length of his collarbone.

“Oh.” There was nothing else he would have been capable of saying. Slowly, he closed his eyes as Potter started sucking on a particularly sensitive spot, right behind his ear. Instinctively, his hands found their way to Potter’s back, desperately gripping his shirt.

“Merlin, yes,” he gasped as Potter sucked his earlobe into his mouth and his hands wandered down to Draco’s backside. He probably should have put a stop to this, told Potter to leave before the situation escalatedpletely. But it just felt so good.

Before Draco knew what was happening, Potter moved behind him, nibbling at the spot where his neck connected with his shoulder. Draco felt his hands on his waist, slowly moving upwards to his chest. A violent jolt shot through him when Potter applied more pressure to his hands, pulling Draco closer to him, while simultaneously pressing himself against Draco’s back. Fuck. He could feel Potter’s erection against his arse, hard and enticing. He let out a low moan, his desire for Potter, bottled-up for far too long, finally spilling over. He heard Potter inhale sharply.

“Draco,” he breathed against his neck, and suddenly, his hands were everywhere. Draco squirmed and gasped as his entire body started to tingle, kicking his senses into overdrive. Potter’s touch was scorching, his scent was overwhelming and the way he kept grinding his hips against Draco’s arse was just downright obscene.

“Oh fuck,” Potter spluttered as Draco almost cried out. Potter had moved his hand down to Draco’s crotch, palming his cock through his trousers. “You’re already hard.”

“Well, so are you,” Draco said breathlessly, instead of defensively. Potter growled into his neck, his fingers curling around Draco’s cock as much as his trousers allowed.

“We need to get these off. Now.”

Draco felt Potter push him forward, his hands already working on unbuttoning the trousers. Draco kept his eyes closed, too absorbed in the sensation of Potter’s fingertips brushing against his cock.

“Fuck! You’re not wearing any underwear,” Potter groaned. His husky voice sent unimaginable desire through Draco. He almost lost his balance when he bumped against something, but Potter held him in place. His eyes snapped open and he blinked, disoriented. Potter had led him to one of the armchairs; his body was still pressed firmly against Draco’s from behind. Slowly, he pushed down Draco’s trousers, until they pooled around his ankles. Potter’s hands slid up his thighs, pausing when they reached his backside. Draco felt him lean in, his hot breath ghosting over his ear.

“Bend over,” he whispered. A violent shudder ran down Draco’s spine, making him sure he would pass out any second. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, grabbing the arms of the chair. He groaned as he felt Potter’s hard cock against his now bare arse. It was a shame Potter was still fully clothed.

“Get those bloody trousers off, Potter,” Draco demanded, impatiently.

Potter chuckled. “All in good time.”

Draco wanted to protest when he felt the push and the heat of Potter’s body vanish, but his breath caught in his throat when Potter’s fingers softly brushed his back, pushing up his shirt, and he felt Potter’s breath, teasingly, against his skin. Draco moaned as Potter’s lips ghosted over his back, brushing his skin ever so slightly.

“Bloody tease,” he ground out, his grip on the chair tightening. Potter had the nerve to chuckle, before his hands latched onto Draco’s hips and his mouth moved lower. Draco felt him shift, as if he was getting down on his knees. He arched his back inadvertently when Potter started massaging his backside, while his hot breath kept teasing his skin. One of Potter’s hands darted up to Draco’s back, only to be dragged down agonisingly slowly. Draco bit back another moan when Potter’s fingers reached his cleft. He heard Potter hum, before his fingers were suddenly replaced by something hot and wet. Fuck! He couldn’t help but shiver as Potter licked his way from Draco’s balls to the small of his back. Sweet Salazar! A couple more minutes of this and Draco would be ready toe.

Potter made an appreciative sound as Draco trembled beneath his touch.

“Spread your legs a little more,” Potter said. Draco groaned. He tried, but his trousers were in the way, trapping his legs. Potter seemed to notice and quickly helped Draco out of them. Legs spread wide and heart pounding in his chest, Draco waited for Potter’s next move. Warm hands were on his arse in an instant.

“Fuck, yes,” Potter hissed. Draco choked, his cock throbbing, as Potter spread his cheeks apart and his tongue dipped into his cleft once more.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh—”

Draco’s eyes fluttered open. Confused, he blinked a few times, before he realised he was indeed lying in the dark. In his bed. Alone.

Shit!

Panting, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He could still feel Potter’s touch on his skin. Only, unlike in his dream, it didn’t feel arousing anymore. It felt like some invisible force was crashing down on him, stifling him.

It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed about Potter. But never had it felt so real. Never had it been this devastating to wake up, to realise it had only been a dream. His cock seemed to agree. Apparently, there would be no need to take care of it.

He turned on his side, hugging his knees close to his torso. Why, why did it have to be like this? Why wouldn’t the universe stop torturing him? He knew he didn’t deserve happiness. But did he really deserve to suffer like this?

He instantly told his mind to shut up, before the wave of self-loathing could choke him. He knew he wasn’t worthy of Potter. Honestly, he wasn’t worthy of his fiancée, either. Ex- fiancée, he corrected himself. Maybe this was the way it should be, for him to be alone for the rest of his life. And maybe that prospect wouldn’t have seemed so terrifying and gut- wrenching if there hadn’t been this agonising pain, this gaping hole in his chest, exposing his heart, which was screaming and yearning for Potter.

Friday, 23 May 2003

“Are you still pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.”

“He’s still pouting.”

“Shut up, Blaise. And you,” Draco pointed a warning finger at Pansy, “you promised to keep your mouth shut. So much for that.”

“Salazar, I hate when you’re in a bad mood,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “You always drag everyone else down with you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Draco huffed.

“Obviously, I’m far more delightful than you,” she retorted. Her expression turned more thoughtful as she tapped her fingers against her thighs. “Look, it’s been two months.”

“So?”

“Draco, you can’t hide in here forever. You’ve got to move on.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?”

“By going out with us,” Blaise said, pulling Draco out of his armchair. “Honestly, I get it. You’ve had some rough stuff going on. But Pansy is right. You broke up with Astoria for a reason, and now, it’s time to embrace it.”

“Embrace—What?

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