Hogwarts was a silent place in the night. A place where only spirits and memories walked the halls. It was like that every night in these dark days since the war had begun in earnest. Life at Hogwarts went on as normal during the daylight hours, but at night its darkened corridors spoke silent volumes of the danger beyond the safety of classrooms, books, and Quidditch.

In the depths of the castle, a door was opened and a blond head emerged.

Silver-tinted eyes surveyed the darkness, looking about warily for any sign of life. Satisfied that the corridor was sufficiently devoid of life, a robe-clad body followed the head through the door. He didn't bother to close the door, aware that the noise might well be enough to alert someone to his presence. He made his way through the dungeons slowly, the cold stones burned his bare feet, but at least his careful steps were silent. By the time he reached the dungeons entrance his feet had gone affectively numb and he stumbled up the last passage, his fingers clutching his bag all the more tightly to keep from dropping it.

Draco Malfoy emerged from the Dungeons hesitantly, sighing his relief that he'd been able to get this far undetected.

"Well, well, well."

Draco tensed, turning to find Harry Potter leaning against the wall, wearing the sort of smile most normal people usually reserved for Christmas Day. "Fuck," Draco cursed, glaring at the grinning wizard. "What do you want, Potter?!"

Potter continued to smile, "It's a bit late to be out wandering about isn't it, Malfoy?"

"What the hell business is it of yours?" Draco hissed, clutching his bag tighter. His feet were now beyond numb and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other irritably.

"I'm a prefect, Malfoy, that makes everything you do my business."

"Does it really, Potter? Are you forgetting that you're not the only one here wearing a prefect's badge?"

"No, but you're not on duty just now, are you?"

"No, Potter, I'm not."

"Right then. So would you like to make up an excuse or should I just take you to McGonagall now and save us both the time of hearing it?"

"I couldn't sleep. I was on my way to the kitchens for a glass of milk. Not exactly a crime, Potter."

"No one is allowed out past curfew except on-duty prefects and teachers under any circumstances. You know that, Malfoy."

"Don't you dare flaunt the rules in front of me, Potter, when you've made a career of breaking them."

"Fine. Let's go," Harry replied briskly.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Potter."

"Oh?" Said in that disbelieving, arrogant tone that he himself used so often.

How he absolutely hated that tone when it was directed at him.

Especially from Harry fucking Potter.

Draco had never been one to shy away from double standards. In fact, having resigned himself early on to playing the role of never-ending dark to Potter's ever-shining light, he'd begun to view double standards as something of a necessity.

Then Harry Potter did something he didn't expect.

Something he hadn't done in many years if he'd ever done it at all.

Harry Potter reached out to touch him.

Whether it was to drag him to McGonagall's office or simply to further emphasize his point, Draco neither knew nor cared. All he knew or cared about was that Harry Potter did not have the right to touch him so casually.

"Don't you fucking dare touch me!" He hissed, retreating from Potter's touch and almost stumbling again on his frozen feet.

Potter sighed irritably, dropping his hand. "Right, then come along, I haven't got all bloody night to stand here arguing with you."

"Then why don't you just turn around and walk the other way, I won't tell anyone." Draco suggested calmly, his trademark smirk firmly in place once more.

"Fine," Potter replied, folding his arms across his chest. "You tell me where you were really going, what's in that bag, and why the bloody hell you're walking around barefoot; and I'll pretend I never saw you."

"I'm leaving, Potter. Leaving Hogwarts. I would think you, of all people, would do your utmost to speed me along the way."

"Where are you going, Malfoy?"

"Home."

"To do what?"

"Sit on my arse and read a book. What the hell difference does it make to you?" Draco hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"You're going to join him, aren't you?"

"If I was, I would hardly tell you, would I?"

"Seems we've had this conversation before."

"Too many times, Potter."

Silence for the space of too many heartbeats and Draco was almost certain that Potter was actually going to let him just walk away. He turned away from the Gryffindor slowly, cautiously, almost afraid to move for fear of ruining this chance for escape. He took one unsteady step down the corridor away from Potter when he heard the soft whisper of the Gryffindor's voice: "Don't go."

He whirled back around to face him, stunned as much by what he'd heard as he was by the complete lack of expression on Potter's face. "I'm sorry, am I losing my mind or did you just ask me not to go?"

"I did," Harry Potter replied, his voice careful, measured, and absolutely serious. "Don't do this."

"And why not, Potter? Give me one good reason."

"It's... wrong."

"Wrong? Wrong, Potter? That's the best reason you could come up with? What exactly is so bloody wrong about it?"

"You don't belong with them. You're not..."

"How the fuck do you know who or what I am, Potter?" Draco advanced quickly, shoving Harry against the wall hard enough to bruise and pinning him there. "I am darkness. I am hatred. I am horror. Lies. Betrayal. I am death. Do you understand what I am? What I will be? Do you understand anything? What would you have of me, Potter? That I stay in this place, living a pretty lie while the war wages outside. This is not my destiny, Potter. My destiny is to fight at his right hand," Draco sneered, pressing his bared wrist against the Gryffindor's cheek. "Do you feel the mark burning? It's calling me, Potter. I have to answer. I don't have the luxury of choice or refusal."

"Fuck you, Malfoy. Don't try to blame your actions on destiny. At least take some bloody responsibility."

"Responsibility?! The mark was not forced upon me. I chose it. I chose him and so I will go."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"Then what's stopping you? Your master is calling," the Gryffindor hissed, turning his face enough to run his tongue across the burning mark.

A shiver ran down Draco's spine and he felt his resolve waver. "Don't do that."

"Bother you, does it? Let me go then," Potter replied, blowing warm air across the wet skin and grinning viciously as another shiver swept Draco's body. "Hurry on your way."

"Fuck you, Potter. I don't take orders from you," Draco replied, his voice unsteady.

The anger between them had changed, fractured somehow, transforming into a different kind of heat. He could feel it burning through his body, creeping through his mind as the thunder crashed overhead, rumbling through the castle's stones. He was leaving, there was no question in that, nothing would change it.

Yet...

Yet he wanted something before leaving. A souvenir if you will, to take with him during the days and nights ahead. A single kiss stolen from the only enemy worthy enough to be called his. It seemed so rational, so reasonable, when it was anything but. He was leaning forward before the thought had even fully formed, taking hold of Potter's lips with his own, plunging his tongue into the warm depths of an eager mouth.

Eager?

The shock was there, like a snake waiting to strike, but it was swept away as desire won sway over his body and Harry Potter's arms curled round his neck.

Those first kisses were frantic, teeth clicking and tongues thrusting, battling for dominance, wanting to taste everything all at once. He was barely conscience of his actions as his body took over where his mind had left off.

Hands groping through layers of cloth to find the smooth skin beneath.

The feel of stones against his back, cool and jagged, digging into tender skin as Potter reversed their positions, slamming Draco against the wall. Robes gone. Panting, thrusting awkwardly, trying to find release as quickly as possible, fingers too dumb to figure out buttons and zips.

Potter's voice, harsh with desire and desperately raw, "Good... why do you taste so good?"

"I would have asked you the same question..." Draco hissed, neatly clipped nails digging into the softness of Potter's worn jumper.

Easier to ask why the forbidden fruit is always tasted then to ask why it tastes so sweet.

Even as the world crumbles away leaving them barren and alone.

Why does it still taste so sweet?

No answers.

His own shuddering groans.

Grinding hips.

Hard and wanting.

Wanting so much to be a part of this boy. To spoil his light.

Eyes wide shut, staring into nothing and everything.

Eyes seeing truth.

For the first time.

Reality.

Seeing those brilliant green eyes opening to meet his own, glowing through the darkness.

Faster and harder, spiraling ever upwards.

Potter's voice again as he crashed over the edge, "Oh, god... Draco."

The sound of his name as a sigh of pleasure on Harry Potter's lips sending him screaming after with his mouth caught in a kiss to muffle the sound.

Panting.

Sanity returning.

Desire only momentarily sated.

"My room. My room is close," Draco murmured, clutching Harry's body tightly against his own in the gasping aftermath.

"Yeah. A room would be good. I can't believe I'm doing this," Harry replied, kissing Draco fiercely to emphasize his point.

"You're not the only one, Potter."

"Potter?" Harry laughed, drawing back and raising an eyebrow at the blond in his arms. "Oh, now that's going to change. I'll have you screaming my name before this night is over."

"A challenge. I do so love a challenge," Draco hissed, his fingers plunging beneath the hem of Potter's sweater.

"A promise, Malfoy," Potter whispered, curling his fingers in the waist of Draco's trousers and pulling him back into the darkness of the dungeons.

"What happened to Draco?" He inquired softly, robes and bag forgotten as he followed the lead of his own personal temptation.

"Good question. Come find your answer."

       

Fingertips trailing over pale skin.

Kisses branding pale thighs.

Draco's fingers caught in black hair as his lover's tongue swept over him. "Stop teasing," he hissed, jerking Harry from between his spread legs to press a hard kiss to his lips. Harry withdrew from the kiss and smirked. The expression was so uncharacteristic that Draco almost laughed, except it wasn't really all that funny when there were so many other more interesting things that Harry could be doing with his mouth. "Down, Potter."

"Hands off," Harry replied softly and for the first time in his life, Draco didn't argue. It was almost painful to relinquish this last bit of control, but he finally forced himself to withdraw his fingers from Harry's tousled hair.

Harry Potter smiled as he bent his head to lick a trail of fire down Draco's chest to his stomach, mapping the lines of muscle and bone beneath the skin. "You've done this before," Draco sighed, closing his eyes, his empty hands seeking and finding purchase in the sweat-soaked cotton sheets of his four-poster.

"Of course. Did you think I was saving myself for you?" Harry replied, his hands gripping Draco's hips and pinning them firmly to the bed as he traced jutting hip bones. Lower still finding Draco's navel particularly fascinating. Draco arched his hips, fingers curling into sweat-stained sheets as Harry's tongue lost interest in his navel and dipped lower, finally sliding across Draco's aching sex. Draco released a soft curse, as Harry's mouth enveloped him, taking him deeper than he thought possible.

It was so much more difficult to make snappy retorts when one's mind has ceased to function. "No. I rather thought you were saving it for the Dark Lord."

Harry's mouth left him and Draco found himself glaring up into eyes tainted with fury and hate from inches away, "You thought wrong."

"Do you hate me, Potter?" Draco asked softly in a careless tone, his fingers trailing over Harry's bare chest and stomach.  Slipping lower still to curl around him, earning a curse and a slight dip of hips for his trouble.

"Yes," Harry replied, his voice equally soft as he dropped kisses along Draco's collarbone. "I hate you with everything that I am. I always have."

"Then why are you here?"

Harry shrugged, "You're leaving."

"I should think you'd be glad."

"I am."

"Then why fuck me? Why make me stay a moment longer?"

"Because you... you made things interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Yes."

Well.

He hadn't been expecting that.

Draco allowed a smile to lift his lips as he took hold of Harry and rolled over to put the other boy beneath him. He smiled down into Potter's shocked expression. "Let's see how much more interesting I can make things for you."

"What are you..."

"I am not a bottom, Potter." Draco interrupted, smirking as he drew Harry's legs up, resting them over his shoulders and thrusting into him in one cruel stroke.

"Fuck..." Harry hissed, obviously not quite prepared for the sudden invasion. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"That is rather the idea," Draco commented, wincing at the effort it took to remain still as Potter adjusted to the feel of him.  "You about ready yet, Potter? I don't want you whining about the pain while we're doing this. It's annoying."

Potter managed a savage grin, clenching muscles around him until Draco moaned and trembled. "I... I can take anything you can dish out, Draco."

"Right then," Draco managed before he lost the last bit of control he had, surrendering to the will of his body and Potter's.

Tight and so very, very hot.

       

It seemed they'd done this before.

A million times in darkened rooms and sunlit corridors.

On desks in chilly Potions classrooms. On the floors of Astronomy towers.

Pain and pleasure.

Hate and desire.

Penetrating defenses.

Drawing cries of ecstasy and rage.

Want.

Hate.

The same only for them.

The forbidden fruit tasted.

The truth seen.

Discovery.

An innocence dying unnoticed.

Binding.

Chains of iron, chafing over hearts and minds and souls.

Moans.

Sighs.

Screams.

The world could have come crashing down around them, stones tumbling from the sky to bury them beneath a ton of rubble, and Draco wouldn't have noticed. And, even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. Because for those brief moments tainted with the dark pleasure of having what he'd never known he'd always wanted, he didn't care about a damn thing other than the boy beneath him.

For these glistening moments on the edge of the great black abyss of the final ecstasy, Harry Potter was his world. His rival, his lover, his torment, his home. It was a world of flushed skin and green eyes. A hot, wet, shining world filled with starlight refracted through cracked glass. Through broken windows of the soul, laced with cracks like spider's lace. So fragile that he ached to touch them. Ached to plunge his hands through those windows and break them to a thousand pieces. Pieces which would fall and cut, slice his own soul to ribbons. And then he would shatter as well, but it would be worth it. Because boys with shattered souls were of no use to anyone and they could be left alone here in the sighing, screaming silence of this world of flesh and surging pleasure. Left alone to pursue only each other.

It was weakness to want it.

To want to stay sheathed in this heat. To long, even for briefest of moments, for something besides a momentary rush of ecstasy.

To want this to be more than what it was.

A casual fuck.

A heartfelt good-bye.

Harry Potter's fall from grace.

And his own as well.

Harry's fingers touched his cheek, shocking him into awareness, his eyes fluttering open. Surprised that they had been closed at all.

He found himself in green eyes, heavy-lidded with desire, a whispered sigh from kiss-swollen lips. "Draco..."

And he broke, shattered like the fragile glass of this lonely moment, screaming his ecstasy to this boy and to a world that would not care. "Harry!"

He felt the sigh of his own name once more on Harry's lips as he came, a spurt of wetness against Draco's hand and stomach as he fell.

He fell and Harry's arms and body caught him, cradled him with more tenderness then he had ever thought possible between them.

They lay together in the aftermath, gripping each other with whatever strength was left in exhausted limbs. And Draco knew that it was time to leave.

Because this wasn't real.

Not now.

Not yet.

They walked in silence through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts. Silent as the spirits, haunted by the ghosts of touch and memory. Every few steps, their hands would brush, almost unconsciously. As if their fingertips were seeking warmth, seeking comfort as they walked through these haunted halls. They reached the entrance hall too quickly. They stood before the great wooden doors in silence, unable and unwilling to look at each other. To say the last good-bye.

Fingers reaching their last, finding flesh and twisting about each other. Gripping hard, an unspoken promise.

Draco turned at last and Harry could not see his expression through the darkness, but he could feel his desperation when Draco's lips captured his own once more in one final kiss. Wet and warm and as impatient and hungry as their first. And then Draco was pulling away and Harry felt the cold seep into his bones and deeper still as it swept through his soul.

And the door opened and there was no moonlight to flood through the opening, only more darkness. And silence... silence except for Draco's parting word as he clutched his bag to his chest and ran out into the night:

"Survive."

And then gone.

Gone into the night on a whisper and a sigh under Harry Potter's watchful gaze.

An unspoken promise.

From Villain to Hero.

Then there was only the silence and the darkness.

And Harry shut the door.

~ fin ~

Return to Archive