The Strongest of Connections (Drarry) || #Wattys2016

Chapter One

Ever since Harry started at Hogwarts, it had felt like home. Yes, it did. Sure it did, one hundred percent. In fact, he very rarely went home to the Dursley's anymore; after all, they were not his family or his parents. No. Hogwarts was where he stayed, where he felt comfortable. This school was his home. Where he belonged.

So, then, why was he--Harry Potter--sitting alone, in the Astronomy Tower trying to convince himself of this? Trying to convince himself that he belonged here--in this place and in this school and with these people? Not only that, but sitting in the infamous arm chair that was notoriously known as the sacred spot of Draco Malfoy when he came up here to hide out? More importantly, why was that in his head just now? His loathed enemy...was invading his thoughts...

This chair smells like Draco...

What was wrong with him?
He really needed to get his shit together.

"Draco Malfoy..." Harry whispered to himself, barely loud enough for his own voice to pass through his ears as he let his body ease back into the cushions of the chair.

Harry felt his eyes slowly close as his thoughts drifted.
Those forbidden thoughts.
He tried to stop them. Honestly, he did.
But, it was not long until Harry felt the softness of his eyelashes brush over the smoothness of his skin and he was overcome with images he could not control.

Blonde hair paired with silver-grey eyes; hair that fingers could run through and eyes that could see straight to a soul.
Eyes that also stared right through him and saw everything--right into his soul; his deepest fears, darkest secrets--the nightmares that rocked him to his core every night in his bed when he was alone. While his sheets were soaked with his own sweat as his own horrid thoughts and dreams did  nothing but terrorize him.

The voice; the whisper of a voice that raised goose bumps on his flesh--the kind that told Harry he was anticipating something, not that he was scared of something--of someone.

That dark, distracting black ink of the Death Eater tattoo that was never, truly, wanted by its wearer, but that, at the same time, looked so fucking dangerously sexy on him and made him all that more attractive.

A perfectly tailored black suit or a Slytherin robe, either of which would result in a perfect outline of that toned and muscular body in which a Malfoy male was known for.

Those eyes--still locked tightly on his own, not letting him look away--not letting him hide... 

"Malfoy..." Harry whispered the name in a quiet, soft voice that was husky, even to his own ears, as he felt his teeth bite, deep enough to leave an imprint, into his bottom lip while he squirmed against the cushioning of the chair.

Harry closed his eyes, tighter, together as he slowly let his hand slide down his chest and to his hard and throbbing length. He felt himself jerk as soon as his hand connected through the denim of his jeans.

"Damn you, Malfoy..." he moaned, through clenched teeth, as he lifted his body against the pressure of his hand, pressing into himself, letting his moans escape through his parted lips as he began to move slowly against his palm; his other hand clutching around the arm of the chair.

It was in this moment that Harry Potter was glad of two things: first, no one else ever came up to the Astronomy Tower this late--ever--not ever Draco. Secondly, his thoughts were completely his own.
With that last thought, Harry Potter lost all concept of control.

"Fuck this." He mumbled, hoarsely, as he fumbled for his wand and did a spell to lock the door at the same that his hand moved straight to his belt, instantly undoing it and then the button, followed by the zipper of his jeans--the instant relief of pressure causing his body to tremble. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He lifted himself from the chair just enough to remove his jeans and boxers before letting his body sink back down into the cushions and his firm and strong hand wrap, securely, around his swollen and throbbing length.

"Oh, God..." Harry moaned as he let himself get lost in his thoughts while he felt the blood and heat start to rush through his body.

He could see the images clear as day. Draco. Draco Malfoy, his enemy. Since the first day he met the boy. That is who he wanted; that is who was doing this to him. He knew this should not be the case, but it could not be controlled. It could not be helped. The pull was too strong. Just like right now--there was no stopping, even if his life depended on it.

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