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Chapter 9

This time Draco arrived in Harry's dream to find the Death Eaters all bound and gagged, and lying in a heap at the edge of the lake. Harry was engaged in a duel with Voldemort. He wasn't winning but he was holding his own, and his use of the Bilious Maximus curse was quite inspired. Draco was rather impressed. However he hadn't come just to watch an entertaining fight, so he stepped up and pointed his own wand at Voldemort.

Harry glanced at him, looked confused for a moment, then smiled and said, 'Glad you could make it!'

Voldemort didn't look nearly so pleased. 'So, the treacherous turncoat arrives at last. You will join young Potter in his demise. It is your...'

'Oh, piss off!' interrupted Draco. He flicked his wand and muttered the first nonsense that came into his head. Voldemort began to writhe and scream as Harry's dream bent to Draco's will. Soon, where the Dark Lord had stood, there was just an ugly black cockroach.

Harry grinned and squashed it under his shoe with a satisfying crunch.

'Nice work!' he said. 'I didn't know you were so good at Transfiguration.'

Draco shrugged modestly. 'I'm not really. At least, not in real li...umm. I mean not usually.' He glanced at Harry, but he didn't seem to have noticed the slip. He clearly wasn't aware that this was not real life, otherwise the dream would have ended and Draco would be back in his dorm.

'Well, you did something right!' smiled Harry, casually banishing the helpless Death Eaters to the middle of the lake, then brushing his hands together to signify a job well done.

'You seemed to be coping rather well on your own. I don't think you need my help any more, I just came because I wanted to talk to you.'

Harry looked a little bit taken aback but replied, 'Oh. Well, ok. But let's go inside, it's getting cold.'

Draco realised that with a thought, he could make the storm clouds disappear and turn their surroundings into a bright, sunny paradise. But before he could do so, he found himself walking with Harry along a corridor in the castle.

'We'll go to Gryffindor Tower,' said Harry. Then he paused, looking worried. 'Although it might upset a few people if I let you in.'

'Don't worry, there'll be no one else there. It's dinnertime.' Draco pointed out. There was a clock on the wall behind Harry. As Draco spoke the hands whizzed round and round the clock face until they indicated that it was six o'clock.

Harry brightened. 'Oh yes!' He turned to a portrait of a rotund woman in a pink dress. 'Leo laetus,' he said, and the portrait swung forward to reveal the entrance to his common room. Draco followed Harry inside and looked around at the comfy armchairs, the bright lamps and the colourful tapestries.

'Nice,' he commented, '...a bit loud for my taste, maybe. But cosy, this'll do nicely.'

'For what?' asked Harry, collapsing onto a sofa and kicking off his shoes. He seemed quite relaxed and approachable, so Draco sat down next to him and cleared his throat nervously.

'For talking,' he replied. Harry looked at him blankly. 'I, ah... well, you've probably noticed I no longer support the other side. You know, Voldemort, the Death Eaters...'

'Yes, that did grab my attention somewhat. What brought all of that on? And what did you mean earlier, about me not needing your help any more?'

Draco looked at him in astonishment. He doesn't remember. Is that how it works - you can't remember a dream, if you're in the middle of another dream? He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. How could he explain, without alerting Harry to the fact that none of this was real? He began tentatively, but truthfully.

'Well, my father never told me the truth about how Voldemort operated. To hear him tell it, he was a brilliant, forward-thinking potential leader who would put an end to tension between wizards and Muggles, and improve security, education and the economy in the wizarding world.'

Harry snorted. 'I don't believe you were that naﶥ. You heard all the stories; you know how terrified people were of him. People don't get that scared for no reason.'

'Believe me, I did wonder about all that. But whenever I had a doubt, my father would uash it. He had an answer for everything. Public hysteria, he called it. Blamed it all on the press. I grew up believing that the Daily Prophet was a conservative paper, which used scare-mongering tactics to keep people from supporting Voldemort. I listened to everything my father said, and did whatever he told me to because I wanted to make him proud. He's a very difficult person to please so it wasn't easy. But all I ever wanted was to be like him.'

'And now what do you want?'

Good question.

'I'm still working on that.' He struggled with the whirlpool of new emotions and the painful discoveries of the last few days. 'I suppose I want to not be afraid any more. I used to feel so safe, when my whole future was planned. I was going to graduate, then get a cushy job at the Ministry and help the Dark Lord build a better world for wizards. Then I was going to marry some wealthy witch that my mother chose from the wizards' Who's Who? and raise a litter of little purebloods.

'It's liberating, rejecting all that for freedom. But what the hell do I do now?'

He paused. The words were sticking in his throat and he felt that strange, stinging sensation in his eyes. Oh, no. I am not going to cry...he looked away, blinking furiously. He took a deep breath before continuing.

'Everything was fine when I knew my place in the world. I knew who I was and why I was here but now...' he choked on his words. 'I just want someone to tell me what it is I'm supposed to do.'

He felt a hand on his arm and looked back at Harry. He seemed to be struggling to find something to say, but his expression was one of compassion, warmth and...acceptance.

Draco felt a flood of gratitude and relief. A tear escaped before he could stop it.

'I think we'd all like that,' murmured Harry. 'There aren't many people who know exactly what their purpose is in the world, most of us have to make it up as we go along. The best we can do is take it one step at a time, try to do the right thing, and help each other out when it gets difficult.'

Draco felt a smile force its way onto his face. 'You sound like Dumbledore,' he said.

Harry gave a surprised laugh, then feigned an air of nonchalant superiority that reminded Draco of Gilderoy Lockhart. 'What can I say, I taught him everything he knows.'

Draco discovered yet another new emotion: laughter through tears. He liked it. Relaxing a little, he settled against the back of the sofa. 'Is that how it works on the good side? Just muddle through and try not to cock it up?' he asked.

Harry chuckled. 'I'm afraid so. I suppose deep down everyone assumes it'll all turn out alright in the end.' His face straightened, as he appeared to think of something. 'Have you told Dumbledore?' he asked softly.

'No. Why?' sniffed Draco.

'Well, if you're going to support him he should know, shouldn't he? I mean he must be under the impression that you will follow your father. Dumbledore needs to know who's on his side and who isn't.'

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. 'It never really occurred to me that if I'm not on Voldemort's side I have to be on Dumbledore's.'

Harry gave a short, puzzled laugh. 'Well then whose side are you on?'

Draco glanced down at Harry's hand, which was still gently resting on his arm. Then he looked up into Harry's open, encouraging face.


Harry was speechless for a moment, and he couldn't look away from Draco's earnest expression.

'I never, ever thought I'd hear you say that,' he eventually replied.

'There's more,' added Draco, trying not to pause for thought in case he lost his nerve.

'More what?' asked Harry.

'More that I have...I mean, I want to tell you.' He took a deep breath as Harry looked at him quizzically. It's just a dream, Draco. You can tell him anything you want, and in the morning he'll forget all about it, or at least dismiss it as a product of his own subconscious. Go ahead...spit it out...He coughed nervously. Suddenly his mouth felt very dry. 'Umm, I ah...'

Harry smiled encouragingly. 'What?' he asked softly.

Draco wondered if it was his imagination, or did Harry lean a little closer to him? He gazed into shining green eyes and felt a little dizzy. He tried to find the right words but...Oh God, Harry was staring at his mouth.

Something tightened in the pit of his stomach and he began to breathe faster. At that moment he realised that perhaps there were no words for what he wanted to say. He settled for quietly murmuring, 'Oh, what the hell...' then he reached for Harry, pulling him close.

Harry didn't object. In fact, he obligingly turned his face towards Draco's.

Oh, don't wake up don't wake up don't wake up...thought Draco as he leaned in, closing his eyes. He was perfectly aware that none of this was real, but it felt pretty damn real when Harry's lips pressed gently against his.

He gradually ceased to care whether it was real or not as Harry put his arms around him and pulled him closer. He responded eagerly, sliding his hands into Harry's hair and slowly stroking Harry's lips with his own. Harry moaned softly and tilted his head back, pressing into Draco's hands.

Draco tenderly played with Harry's hair with one hand, while the other slowly trailed down his neck. Suddenly struck by inspiration, he lowered his head and showered light kisses over Harry's arched neck.

He felt Harry's fingers flex, clutching at his clothes and digging into his back. He gasped sharply. This couldn't feel any better if it was real, he managed to reflect before Harry's hands slid down his back, then back up, under his T-shirt. Warm fingertips stroked his skin, slowly tracing the bumps of his spine, the hollow in the small of his back, and the sensitive, ticklish areas at his sides. He shivered deliciously, then entwined his fingers in Harry's hair and pulled his head forward, desperate for another kiss.

He tried to restrain himself, reluctant to push Harry too far in case he scared him into waking up.

But Harry didn't seem scared. In fact, Harry kissed him so hard he nearly pushed him backwards off the sofa. His heart hammered as Harry adjusted his position so that he was kneeling astride Draco's lap. He timidly reached out and undid the bottom button of Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled shyly, then nuzzled the side of his neck, gently nipping at his ear. Draco managed a few more buttons before Harry distracted him with a firm kiss. This time he parted his lips slightly, and Draco just had time to notice that he tasted of Butterbeer before Harry started stroking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

'Mmmhm,' said Draco.

He felt Harry smile against his mouth. Then he felt Harry gently tease his lips apart with his tongue. He opened his mouth with a sigh, tentatively meeting Harry's tongue with his own. Slowly he sank into a long, thorough exploration, sliding his tongue over Harry's and licking around his lips.

As he fumbled with Harry's half-open shirt and slipped his hands inside he was vaguely aware that if this had been real, it would be as far as he had ever gone, with anyone. But that Christmas party grope with Pansy had been nothing like as good as this...

A little voice in the back of his head helpfully pointed out that if he enjoyed getting off with Harry Potter this much, there was probably a good reason why Pansy didn't do much for him...

He suddenly became aware of Harry's hands again - they had emerged from under his T-shirt while his mind was elsewhere, and were now resting lightly on the front of his jeans. Draco was gripped by a moment of self-consciousness. It must be glaringly obvious to Harry just how much he was enjoying this, and...


Harry chose that moment to very gently apply a little pressure with one hand.

Suddenly it became vitally important to get every part of himself as close to Harry as possible. He frantically pulled at the last of Harry's buttons and yanked the shirt down Harry's back. At the same time Harry took hold of the bottom of Draco's T-shirt and whipped it over his head. As soon as his arms were free he flung them around Harry, gripping his bare shoulder blades and pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace.

Both boys gasped as the new, exquisitely intimate sensation of skin against skin took them by surprise. Draco pressed his face against Harry's neck, licking and sucking hungrily.

Harry shuffled forwards slightly on his knees, until it was impossible to get any closer without breaking a few laws of spatial geometry.

With delight Draco discovered that Harry was just as aroused as he was. He wriggled his hips experimentally, creating a delicious friction. Harry moaned and flung his head back.

Draco licked at the hollow of Harry's throat, and wriggled again.

Harry gave a soft cry and thrust his hips forward. He clutched at Draco's back with one hand, and the back of his head with the other.

Encouraged, Draco ran his hands down Harry's back, and into the gap between his jeans and his boxers. Squeezing gently, he wondered in amazement why it had never occurred to him before to get his hands on Harry Potter's arse. He squeezed harder, at the same time lifting his hips of the sofa and grinding hard against Harry's crotch.

'Ohhhh!' exclaimed Harry loudly.

Suddenly Draco noticed the light fading. The room around him started to dissolve and with a jolt he found himself slammed back onto his bed. Nooooo! He thought desperately, burying his face in his hands...I knew it...I went too far, I woke him up...

He heard a rustling sound close by and opened his eyes, peering through his fingers. This isn't bed-hangings are green. These are red...

He raised himself up on his elbows...and discovered the source of the sound. Harry Potter was taking his jeans off.

He's still dreaming...but how did we get here? I didn't make this must have been Harry...

Draco gave up trying to make sense of Harry's dream world and leapt off the bed, throwing himself at Harry in ecstatic relief. He trembled in his arms as they shared a lingering, ravenous kiss.

Harry pulled away first, breathing fast, his eyes half-closed. He took a few steps back, towards his bed, leading Draco with both hands. He sat down, reaching for Draco's belt, looking up and locking eyes with him as he did so. He tugged at the fastenings and slowly opened the zip, sliding his other hand over the stretched front of Draco's boxers as he did so.

Draco whimpered. He gazed at Harry and wondered if perhaps he'd got it all wrong, maybe he was the one dreaming after all.

He pushed Harry flat on the bed and stretched out next to him, propped up on one elbow and trailing his other hand down Harry's chest as he nuzzled and kissed his way up Harry's neck.

His hand reached Harry's waistband, and he plucked it playfully. It snapped back, making Harry jump and giggle. They stared at each other for a moment, then there was a frantic struggle to remove each other's remaining clothing as quickly as possible. Two pairs of boxers hit the floor in rapid succession, and the two boys rolled over together, arms and legs locked around each other. Draco ended up on top. He looked down to see Harry smile bashfully and draw a sheet over them both. He smiled in amusement at his new lover's coyness.

'What's the matter? Nobody's going to see us.'

'I know, I...just didn't want you to be cold.'

'Cold?' he said, incredulously, 'With you? Not a chance!'

As if to demonstrate, he trapped Harry's lips in a searing kiss, at the same time grinding down with his pelvis. Harry thrust back eagerly, moaning Draco's name against his mouth. He seized Draco's backside with both hands and pounded hard against him.

The pressure building between them was making Draco delirious, he had to move or it would be over, all too soon. He rolled onto his back, pulling Harry with him. The change in position resulted in a new, fresh wave of sensation as Harry pushed against him. Every inch of his body quivered, and bursts of pleasure shot through him with every touch.

'Ahmmm!' he said, as Harry stroked him lightly from his armpits to his hipbones.

'O....Oh!' he said, as Harry firmly flicked over his left nipple with the tip of his tongue.

'...!' he said, as Harry disappeared under the sheet, and he felt the warm, wet softness of Harry's mouth engulf him.

Every nerve seemed to be shooting little lightning bolts into the pit of his stomach. His hands gripped the sheet involuntarily, his toes clenched, every conscious thought and coherent word disappeared out of his head.

The exquisite tension grew as Harry quickened his pace. Even if Draco had been capable of thinking about vocabulary, he couldn't have found a word for what he was experiencing. Too unbearable to be pleasure, too glorious to be pain...

As his eyes began to defocus, and every muscle fibre began to tense in readiness, a single word formed on his lips - the only word his overloaded brain was capable of registering.


His heart gave a series of somersaults...

'Harry...oh, Harry...' he panted, then finally a great surge of ecstasy and... 'HARRY!'

He emerged from blissful oblivion, aware only of his own pulse racing in his ears, the rapid gasps of his breathing...and Harry. Wonderful, amazing, clever Harry, appearing from under the sheet. He was flushed and tousled and beaming. Draco had never seen anything so beautiful.

'That was...' He struggled for a moment. Incredible? Fantastic? Mind-blowing? '...Perfect' he finished lamely.

I may not be able to tell him how that felt...but I can show him, he thought, determinedly.

His body seemed to have sunk into the mattress and his arms and legs felt floppy and heavy, but he managed to reach for Harry and embrace him tenderly before flipping him over and plundering his mouth. Harry writhed beneath him, more aroused than ever, and Draco was suddenly desperate to see how he would react to the same treatment he had just received.

Flinging the sheet up, he dived under it.

He nuzzled his way down Harry's stomach, drinking in his warm, musky scent. Reaching his destination, he licked his lips and closed his eyes. Then he opened his mouth over the smooth, silky skin. Harry whimpered and clutched at Draco's hair with both hands. He thrust his hips forwards and groaned Draco's name before...


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