Harry Potter is not mine, neither is anything affiliated with Harry Potter. Which means the only thing I really own in this fic is the computer used to type it up, and the idea. Harry Potter does, however belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Yes, Rowling-sama, I know you probably don’t like these situations. I am very sorry, and I apologize to anyone who may be offended by this.
I wrote this fic while vacationing in California, visiting my very religious family. *sweatdrop* It’s good to know smut never takes a vacation. . . and refuses to leave me alone even if *I* do!
Which means BEWARE!! I’ll say it again, just so those of you who are faint of heart do not read this, then complain that you haven’t been warned:
CITRUS!!! BORDERING ON *LEMON*!! YAOI!! That means male-male sexual relationships!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE!!!
You have been warned. The rest of you, I hope you enjoy my first real Harry Potter citrus fic! (My parents must be so proud. . .)
The Seduction of Draco Malfoy
2 o’clock in the morning at number four, Privet Drive. Harry Potter was lay beneath a deep slumber, dreaming about his sixth year’s events. He was both excited and saddened about his upcoming seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It meant that he would be able to become a full member of wizard society, possibly playing Quidditch professionally. It also meant that his window of opportunity for grasping the feelings of one Draco Malfoy was slowly closing.
Harry rolled onto his back from off his side. It was an unusually hot night for Surrey, even if it was the middle of summer. Only a very thin sheet covered Harry’s lithe body, apart from his normal sleep clothes of a tee- shirt and sleep shorts.
Just then, something large and heavy fell directly on top of Harry, knocking the breath from his lungs. He shot awake, looking into the fuzzy darkness. The full moon outside his window allowed him to see well enough without a light, but the fact that he was nearsighted worked to his disadvantage. The large object laying on top of him pinned his hands to his sides, leaving him stationary.
He hoped the Dursleys had not heard anything.
As Harry’s eyes began to roughly focus on the thing on top of him, he saw the outline of silver blonde hair. The thing moved, its face peering into Harry’s. Harry saw the glimmer of very pale eyes.
“Malfoy!” Harry gasped.
The thing sat up, an embarrassed frown upon its face. It moved off of Harry, crouching at the end of the bed. Harry quickly sat up, fumbling in the dark for his glasses. Sliding them on, he was soon able to make out the thin form of Draco Malfoy, black satin pajamas and all.
“Malfoy, what are you doing here?!”
Draco looked at Harry uncomfortably. Harry tried not to smile, admiring the way Draco looked in black satin. “I think I may have boffed my teleportation spell,” he said shortly, keeping his eyes downcast toward the tumbled sheets of Harry’s small bed.
“*Think*?” Harry retorted sarcastically. “We’re not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts.”
“I know,” Draco nodded, “but I wanted to get a head start on the term.”
Harry shook his head. “How did you get here?” he asked, changing the subject a bit.
“I don’t know. I was trying to teleport to my kitchen, but landed here.” Draco’s voice lowered to a solemn tone. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? My reputation.”
“I won’t tell,” Harry nodded.
“Yeah. Now, can you try to find a way to leave? I’d like to get some sleep.” Harry choked on his last words. Everything in him wanted Draco to stay, but he knew better. Draco was something he could never have, and it was best if the pale-haired boy left.
Draco nodded. He took out his wand, holding it lightly in his hand. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of the words to his teleportation spell. Harry took off his glasses and turned onto his side, his back facing Draco. He shut his eyes, trying to think of things other than how sexy Draco looked in his pajamas. Or out of his pajamas. Or maybe wearing black satin boxers—
Harry’s eyes shot open. He mentally slapped himself for letting his lust get the better of him. “What is it, Malfoy?” he asked in an annoyed tone.
Draco tried not to sound hurt, “Can I ask you a question?”
Harry sighed. “Fine. . .” He turned onto his back to face Draco. “What is it?”
Draco got up from his crouched position at the foot of Harry’s bed. “I just need to know. . .” As he got closer into view, Harry noticed a very impish smirk plastered on Draco’s pale lips. Draco straddled his bent knees around the upper of Harry’s thighs, leaning into him. He bent over Harry, the tips of their noses just touching.
“. . . what you think of me.”
Harry gasped. Draco smiled, peering into Harry’s widened bright green eyes. He pressed his lips to Harry’s, pushing the other boy’s already open lips even wider with the tip of his tongue. Harry tasted the sweet saliva of Draco’s mouth, feeling the pulsing heat of their tongues dancing together in harmony. He could not think of anything that brought him such pleasure while terrifying him at the same time.
Draco slowly pulled away. He surveyed Harry’s beautiful face, his flushed cheeks. He smiled, but it was not a smile of love or gentleness. Its chill crept along Harry’s spine.
“Malfoy, what’s gotten into you?!” Harry cried breathlessly.
“You’re surprised?” Draco purred sensually. “Is it so hard to imagine that someone with your form would have an admirer?” Draco slowly slid his lips along the side of Harry’s taut neck, which was stretched to its full length by Harry’s effort to escape.
Harry tried weakly to fight Draco’s advances, but Draco’s surprisingly strong arms held Harry’s arms tight against the mattress. He suppressed a cry of pain, worried he might wake his aunt and uncle. Or worse yet, encouraging Draco, who could mistake it for a cry of passion. Instead, Harry bit his lip, trying to resist a temptation he had wanted for so long. It was not helping that he felt himself slowly getting more and more turned on.
“Stop. . .” he spoke hoarsely.
Draco grinned. His lips made their way down Harry’s neck, moving toward his collar bone. “Why?” he said between kisses, “I can sense your desire. . . you feel the same way I do.” He lustfully gazed into Harry’s frightened, excited eyes, his lips still pulled back into a sinful smile.
Draco pulled off the top of his black pajamas, revealing his smooth, pale chest. Harry’s eyes widened as far as they would go. He had never imagined Draco having this nice of a body.
Leaning over Harry so that his bare chest touched Harry’s shirt, Draco pinned the black-haired boy against the bed and placed his wet lips next to Harry’s ear. “Can you honestly tell me you do not want this?” he spoke softly, his smooth voice running over Harry like fine silk on the most sensitive of skins. “To feel our bodies moving together in a dance of passion, our flesh pressed together creating a heat like blue fire?”
Still pressing Harry’s thighs to the bed, Draco sat up and allowed Harry to take in the full expanse of his chest. Harry’s mouth gaped open. He imagined what it would be like to feel that perfect skin against his chest, to have their bodies writhing together under the cover of the night.
‘No!’ Harry scolded himself. However, his longing for the young Malfoy heir was reaching its height. He unconsciously reached his hand up to feel the smoothness of Draco’s skin.
Seeing this, Draco grinned. He took Harry’s hand into his own and began massaging it with his lips, tasting more of the boy’s warm skin. He took the tip of Harry’s index finger lightly between his teeth and began caressing it with the tip of his tongue. He continued to move his tongue down the rest of the finger, eventually moving to the other lonely fingers. His gaze on Harry never broke as he peered deeply into the boy’s glittering green eyes.
Harry stared at Draco in disbelief. His eyes searched Draco’s thin face for any sign of resignation, but found nothing. Harry bit his lip, trying to find a way to endure such powerful temptation without giving in. He shut his eyes, trying to block everything out.
Draco sensed Harry’s resignation. He dropped the boy’s hand, letting it fall to the bed. Harry sighed with relief, believing that his trial had ended.
Sadly, the young Malfoy was not finished yet. Harry opened his eyes, only to find Draco pulling his tee-shirt off. Harry stared at the shirt, watching as it silently fell to a pile on the ground. He looked back at Draco, who was staring at his chest like a child in a chocolate shop. Never before had he seen Malfoy’s pale eyes so wicked and hungry, even tonight.
He saw Draco begin to lean over him, and he slammed his eyelids together. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed, feeling the piece below his waist harden and straighten like a board. He whimpered softly, low enough that Draco did not notice. Of course, he would not have noticed anyway, seeing as he was preoccupied with Harry’s chest.
Draco moved his lips along the smooth skin of Harry’s collar bone, inching down toward his exposed chest. He circled around the boy’s right nipple, softly biting down on it. Harry gasped, his eyes forcing themselves open.
Trying not to cry out, Harry said in a whimper, “Why are you doing this?” He stared helplessly into Draco’s pale eyes, which looked to be swimming with sinful thoughts.
“I told you,” Draco grinned, resting on top of Harry’s warm chest, staring into the boy’s brilliant green eyes. He playfully poked the end of Harry’s nose with his index finger. “Or have you already forgotten?”
Harry shook his head. “The Malfoy I know would never be so bold as this.”
“Well, you might say I’ve had a bit of pushing.” Draco pushed his hips into Harry’s on the last two syllables. His pale eyes glittered in the bright moonlight.
“Please don’t do this,” Harry pleaded sadly.
Draco pushed against Harry further, their hips almost locked together. He leaned over Harry’s face, their lips a breath apart. “Don’t be so modest,” he purred, moving his hands down the length of Harry’s figure. “I can feel your desire.” Draco stopped his hands on top of Harry’s thighs, an inch away from his most sensitive part. Harry was suddenly aware that he was very stiff, and blushed.
Draco grinned, leaned further to press he and Harry’s lips together. He moved his hands from Harry’s thighs up into the boy’s hair, playing with the ruffled jet black strands. Harry wanted to follow suit, but used every bit of will he possessed to control himself. He kept telling himself that this was not Draco, the object of his affections. No matter what he yearned for himself, he refused to believe that this person whose tongue was dancing with his own was the real Draco Malfoy.
To his relief, Draco broke the kiss. Instead, leaving Harry breathless, Draco moved lower down Harry’s body, his face hovering above the boy’s stomach. He slowly moved his lips around the lower of Harry’s stomach. Harry continued to bite his lip, lest he cry out in passion. He persisted to whisper, “Stop. . . please. . .”
Draco did not appear to notice his pleas, however, still moving lower on his stomach. With a sudden chill up his spine, Harry felt his sleep shorts moving lower on his hips. He sat straight up, thrusting his hands against Draco’s chest.
“Please, no. . .” he said assertively, his voice hoarse from being deprived of breath so many times.
Draco looked up at Harry, examining the expanse of clean, pale flesh on the boy’s body. He nodded with a grin, getting up from Harry’s bed. Harry felt strangely cold and alone without the warmth of Draco’s body on top of him. He wanted Draco back with him, worse than he had ever before.
Draco loomed over Harry and placed a short, passionate kiss on the other’s lips. His pale eyes flickered with heat. “As you wish,” he whispered softly. He turned to the window and opened the latch, sticking his head into the hot night air.
“Remember, you promised not to tell.” With that, Draco hopped out the window and disappeared into the night. Harry stared at the open window, which let in more heat than let out. However, Harry did not close it. He fell backward onto his bed, tears dotting the sides of his eyes. He rolled onto his side, whimpering in his sleep.
* * * * *
Harry had not heard any word from Draco after the incident. Harry had decided against sending the pale boy a letter by owl, and was saddened when Draco seemed to be making no attempt to talk to him about what had occurred.
Harry was more than relieved to see his friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley waiting for him at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. He hugged Hermione, slapped Ron on the back. They chatted about the summer’s events, Hermione having gone to Ireland with her parents and visiting the Celtic castles. Ron himself had been able to spend a week with his brother, Charlie, in Romania with dragons.
“Did you do anything, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Your letters sounded like you were pretty bored.”
Harry nodded. He had not told them about what happened with Draco, and was not about to tell them. “I stayed in my room most of the time. What with Dudley going off to Junior College this year, they hardly noticed I was there.”
Hermione shook her head. “You could have come and visited my family for a week! My parents just love you, the famous Harry Potter!”
Harry blushed. “I’m sorry. I would have, if I had thought of it.”
A flash of silver blonde hair caught Harry’s eye. He turned his head, suddenly spying Draco Malfoy standing on the platform with his things, packing them into the train’s luggage compartments. Harry’s heart slammed in chest. The young Malfoy heir did not look as scrumptious as he had in black satin pajamas, but he still had that air that reminded Harry of all the feelings he felt for Draco, especially now.
“I’ll be right back,” Harry said. “I forgot, I have to load my things onto the train.” Harry pushed his cart over to where Draco stood, which was conveniently right next to the luggage car. He placed his first trunk and Hedwig’s cage on the port of the car, turning to Draco.
“Malfoy,” he said, tapping Draco’s shoulder. Draco turned around, looking paler than usual.
“Malfoy, we need to talk,” Harry spoke very seriously.
Draco regained part of his normal composure. He let out an annoyed sigh, “What do you want, Potter?”
Harry looked around the platform, making sure Draco’s usual henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, were not listening in on their conversation, along with anyone else with curious ears. He lowered his voice, still managing to keep it in its stern manner, “Why did you come to my house over the summer?”
Draco looked confused. “What are you talking about, Potter?” he said. “Why would I take the time to visit *you* and that horrid Muggle family of yours?”
Harry ignored the Muggle comment, knowing full well it was true. “I don’t know, but you did.” Harry opened his second trunk and removed a clean, nicely folded, black satin pajama top. He handed it to Draco, his head lowered in embarrassment. “You left this in my room.”
Draco suddenly went very pale. His eyes doubled in size as he took the shirt from Harry. He looked down at it, then back up at Harry. “W-what. . . what was I d-doing. . . there?” he stuttered nervously.
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “That’s why I asked you—”
“No, I mean *what* did I do?” Draco stared into Harry’s reserved green eyes.
Harry swallowed. “I. . . I don’t think I should repeat it here. . .”
Though it seemed impossible, Draco’s eyes widened further, growing to about the size of the dinner plates of the Hogwarts dining hall. He swallowed hard, tugging at the black fabric in his hands. “Oh no. . .”
“What?” Harry said, sounding concerned.
Draco shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harry,” Draco’s voice sounded strangely uneasy. He lowered his head, his silver blonde bangs blocking Harry’s view of his pale eyes. “Whatever I did. . .” he spoke mournfully, “. . . I deeply apologize. Something. . . *happened*, over the holiday, and I wasn’t quite myself.” Draco looked up at Harry for a brief moment, before turning away. “Again, I apologize.”
Harry watched Draco walk off. He bit his lip, still feeling the heat of Draco’s mouth against his. He placed his last trunk onto the luggage port, then walked off to join his friends. They were already getting onto the train, waiting diligently for him. He ran over to them.
“What took you so long?” Hermione said, stepping on before him.
Harry shook his head, forcing a smile. “My trunks were heavier than I thought.”
Ron laughed, patting Harry on the back. “You could’ve asked, I would’ve helped you.”
Harry nodded, his smile becoming more real. “Thanks. I should’ve.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, followed by Ginny and Neville, stepped into one of the empty passenger compartments. Harry found a seat next to the window, right across from Ginny. She smiled at him, then turned to face Neville. Ron sat next to Harry, and Hermione next to Ron.
Harry rested his head against the window. He suddenly felt very tired. He sighed, shutting his eyes, resisting the crystalline tears that threatened to fall. Draco’s actions had been feigned, probably as some sort of sick joke. But though his actions had been rather sadistic, Harry still wished that Draco had really wanted to do those things to him. He wished Draco really did feel that kind of passion for him.
For most of the trip, Harry said nothing, remaining completely silent. He ignored his friends’ queries about what the matter was, replying simply with, “Oh, nothing.” Even when Hermione was going over various spells with everyone in the car, despite the fact that Neville and Ginny were making eyes at each other, Harry never looked away from the rolling green countryside. The only thing that concerned him now was Draco Malfoy.
Would you believe that I used to be the Protestant version of a Catholic?! HA!! *proud smirk* It’s creepy what comes to you in the middle of the night, eh? ^_^ v