Insecurities - A Drarry Short Scene

Insecurities

Streams of pale moonlight dappled in through the windows high on the walls of the corridor, making the hall abstract-looking. Harry Potter wandered, with no goal, only to try and erase the scene of his most recent nightmare. He and Ron locked in the prison of Malfoy Manor, yelling for Hermione, who was upstairs having the word mudblood carved into her left forearm by Bellatrix Lestrange. He could see it so clearly. Harry shivered a little, and continued walking. He suddenly heard footsteps behind him. He knew he would not be in trouble because the professors understand the post-war nightmares, as he has encountered each on a different night. But he still did not want to be bothered tonight. The steps came closer, and then the person was on his heels.

"Stop," Harry said menacingly low, whipping around, his wand hit Draco's thigh, dangerously close to his groin. He hoped Potter wouldn't notice his arousal, he's been trying to keep it from him since fifth year.

Potter obviously sensed it, the eighteen-year-old looking down, his eyes widened slightly, surprised to Malfoy's reaction to him. He decided to tuck that information away for later.

He slipped his wand in his back pocket and slowly, looking around the abandoned corridor, stepped closer to Malfoy. Harry could hear the other boy's breathing hitch slightly and speed up.

Harry got so close they were barely touching noses. Licking his lips, looking into the steely eyes of the slightly taller boy for a moment, he thought he's take advantage of the situation, he loved getting under Malfoy's skin.

He stood on his tip-toes and whispered huskily into Draco's ear, "Stay away from me, or else there will be trouble for both of us," his breath fanning Malfoy's neck, he shuddered, stepped away from Harry, whose eyes held an almost unrecognizable expression, and walked away.

The almost unrecognizable expression Potter was wearing, Draco realized as he neared the Slytherin common room, was lust, matching his own eyes.

---

Draco suddenly awoke around three in the morning from another erotic dream - the third this week, and it was Tuesday, well Wednesday now.

What bothered him about the dream, not that it was heated, it was about Potter. Before the incident Saturday, Draco was good at fighting the dreams, once or twice every three months. Now he was doing double dreamless sleep draughts, and even a spell, but nothing worked.

He could still very vividly see Potter above him, breathless, his green eyes sparkling, sun-bronzed skin glistening.

Draco felt his stomach tighten as he stood up, slipping his cloak over his tee shirt and black briefs. Sliding on his slippers, he quietly exited the Slytherin Seventh Year dorms, heading for the Room of Requirement.

Reaching the seventh floor, he paced the room three times, thinking of his dream.

Little did Malfoy know, a figure in an invisibility cloak and holding a familiar map was behind him, struggling with the same issue.

Harry slipped in just before the door closed and looked around the room.

Black and white was definitely a theme. Black walls, a worn gray leather sofa, and a king-sized bed with black and white checked down covers were the only things in the room, save the medium-sized brick fireplace adorning the back wall. There also seemed to be a bathroom on the right side of the back wall.

Harry watched as Malfoy removed his robe, and realized he was set up - or so it seemed. Harry set himself up.

He cleared his throat, causing Draco to jump sky-high and turn, seeing nobody. He then realized what was going on.

"Cut it out, Potter," he snapped,"I know you're in here. Just take off that ridiculous cloak."

"Which one?" Harry asked, simultaneously removing his invisibility cloak and his robe, both dropping to the floor at his feet.

Draco studied the man in front of him intently, silver eyes probing Potter's slim, tan body.

Harry was wearing a white tee shirt, well-defining his now filled-out chest, and gray sweatpants.

Seems to be a reoccurring pattern, Draco thought sulkily. In the dream he had less than fifteen minutes ago, he was ripping those exact pants off of Potter.

He groaned deep in his throat and his head rolled back in a semicircle, stirring something in Harry. Something that only happens when he's around Draco.

He followed his instinct, the one he had been refrained from following for a couple of years now, and approached the startled-looking blonde boy.

He stopped right in front of Draco, both boy's cheeks tinged pink, and did the unthinkable.

In front of the crackling fire, Harry placed both hands on either side of Draco's face, and drew him close, lips barely brushing. He hardly noticed Draco's trembling, whispering fiercely, "For years I thought what I felt for you was hatred, but since sixth year, when I walked in on you in the bathroom, looking so vulnerable, I knew it wasn't hate, it was lust," he then closed the space between them, tenderly kissing the other boy afraid of scaring him off.

Draco's eyes widened in shock, then slipped shut, his lips moving in sync with Harry's.

His dreams weren't dreams, he realized seconds later as Harry pushed him toward the bed, his warm hands slipping beneath Draco's shirt, exploring his firm torso, they were prophetic.

---