sweetener; drarry

10; lovesick blues

TRACK 10
Lovefool
The Cardigans

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With no Hermione to drag him by his ear to his next class (and with no Ron to laugh whilst she did so), Harry petulantly climbed the stone stairs up to the Gryffindor Common Room, doing so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach. He spat the password out as if it was venomous ('Malungkot') before clambering through the portrait hole and tearing up the stairs leading to the boys dormitories. The entire room — and the common room downstairs, to be fair — was deserted. The usually crowded and rambunctious area was now so barren in comparison, much more grey and earth-shatteringly silent.

Harry sighed before collapsing onto his four-poster bed and swamping himself in his covers. He had to bend his knees so that his feet wouldn't hang over the edge — having grown quite a lot since being a skinny, eleven-year-old. Heart lurching with the recent revelation he had made in the library, Harry covered his head with his hands as if embarrassed. How could he fancy Draco? Liking boys was strange enough at that, but Draco? Harry knew exactly how Ron and Hermione would react to that, not that he entirely cared about them for the time being.

When had this even come about? For as long as Harry could remember, Draco had harassed and tormented his closest friends and just about everybody. There had always been chemistry between the two — whether that be lust or hatred, Harry wasn't sure — but ever since that Boggart lesson, Harry's entire perspective of the blond changed. He now saw the bully as a broken boy who needed to come to terms with the fact that his father physically abused him. The brunet hadn't realised just how hard it would be to force Draco to reveal such a thing. After all, the Slytherin never explicitly said he was being beaten — though the Boggart using his father's cane to batter the blond seemed like damning evidence enough.

Head swimming in a groggy swamp of remorse and anger, Harry tossed and turned in his bed as he debated on what action to take next. Either confide in Draco and try to become friends, or ignore him entirely. The second option seemed to be Harry's best bet at this point.

The boy heaved a great sigh before tossing and turning in his bed some more. After crinkling up his bedsheets and sending books that had been resting at the foot of his bed flying across the room, Harry finally gave up. He just couldn't seem to get comfortable, so he swung his legs over the side and slipped out from under the warm covers. Being alone in the Gryffindor Common Room hadn't had the intended effect Harry had hoped it would. Instead of being flushed with feelings of calm and tranquility, his head thumped in time to the beat of a distorted drum that wouldn't let him rest. It was as if he was hanging onto the largest sail of a boat, clinging on with his bare hands. If he let go, he would tumble into the barbaric, thrashing sea and drown — though, if he continued to hang on, the ship would eventually overturn anyway. He felt truly and utterly helpless.

Then a fleeting thought flickered through his mind. There was one place in all of Hogwarts that he so desperately wished to be at this very moment, one place where — for some reason — he felt safe and relaxed. How very strange, for he had only discovered the place this very morning.

Harry tore down the stairs to the common room and brashly thundered through it, ripping open the portrait hole and sprinting at a pace so quick he must've looked like a blur. After tripping over his own robes, Harry realised that he truly wasn't in any hurry so he slowed down and set off at a speedy walk. It didn't take long before he had appeared outside of the Transfiguration classroom. If he could just remember which way he had gone, he would be exactly where he wanted to be. Once a terrifying second of forgetting entirely where he had arrived from, he suddenly recalled which way to go and continued walking.

He hadn't been walking for more than a few minutes when he heard distant voices and that same overwhelming scent of broken dreams and blood from before clouding his senses. He leapt behind a linen drape that obscured one of the alcoves that housed a brilliant window with a ledge wide enough to sit on, though he remained standing. The voices sounded too mature to belong to students, though he couldn't exactly say who they belonged to. They were foreign to him and strangely eerie. Within seconds the voices had turned and disappeared, though he could follow them if he so wished. He always had been a curious one, though the urge to arrive at his destination overpowered all else and he headed in the opposite direction.

Finally, he had made it the 'JANITOR'S ONLY' closet, somewhere he could sit down and finally figure things out. As he went to turn the handle, fear gripped his sides and his chest suddenly felt icy again. What if Draco was inside? Sure, he wasn't opposed to the idea of spending another hour with Draco, but he would've preferred to be alone. Inhaling longingly, Harry swung open the door and released a heavy breath upon finding the area void of any others. He stepped inside calmly, shutting the door behind him before flopping into Draco's green chair (which looked as though it belonged in an old Victorian's house).  Almost instantaneously, he felt soothed and...happy? It seemed like months had flown by since he'd been so harmonious.

As the seconds ticked by, Harry was almost lulled into a hazy sleep when he gazed to his left and saw 'The Shining', a muggle book Draco had been reading earlier. As he thought of the blond, blood pumped through his veins and almost all of it ended up at his groin. His breathing picked up a pace as he closed his eyes and let his mind do the rest. This felt wrong, this felt so, so wrong. So why couldn't he stop?

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as he ran a hand along the side of his thigh, planting the other in his hair and pulling gently. His thoughts travelled back to the night in the hospital wing, when Draco had never before appeared so beautiful. As he pictured Draco, with his snow-white skin and pale blue eyes, his member twitched and throbbed — fighting to free itself. 'Just for a few seconds,' he thought, 'then I'll leave.'

A minuscule groan departed from his lips as he bucked his hips, tugging harder at his hair whilst ever-so-slowly gliding his free hand across his trouser-covered cock. The moans and growls heightened in volume and edge as he continued to pleasure himself, eyes shut tight in a vivid daydream about Draco. This was so wrong. He shouldn't be doing this. It all got too much for Harry, so he thrust his pants halfway down his thighs like a dog biting at the cone around its neck before gripping his member and pumping his hand up and down. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he covered half his face with his other forearm, gasping and growling as he snaking his dominant hand up and down his length. He had to stop, why couldn't he stop?

Harry was so invested in finished what he started that he didn't even notice when the door to the Janitor's Cupboard opened wide and a pale boy with dark eye bags and albino-white hair stepped into view.

an: oooOOH SHIT!¡ sorry to leave it at such an AKWARD, INTENSE moment but yano i want to get this update out before i turn fricking fifty 🤪🤪
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