Author's Note: for Mako, and the IDoS Birthday Celebrants for September.

The Epiphany of Draco Malfoy

By Passo


He had tried to ignore the looks.


The Potions term project was very important for every Hogwarts student—even for the slackers—for it spelled passing or failing the whole course that term. That's why Draco never failed to take his academics seriously. He was, after all, a Malfoy. He strove to excel in everything, no matter what it took. Unfortunately, even though he was presently under Snape's good favor, no amount of plain sucking up would give him great grades. He needed to study. Still, he had always loved Potions so he knew that the work wouldn't be so bad.

But Professor Snape was Professor Snape. He had his own twisted ideas of what was right. His methods of discipline were bizarre enough—not to mention his sense of humor. Draco fully expected the Potions Master to partner him with Potter once in a while during minor class activities. But NOT for the sixth year Potions term work. And NOT with Neville Longbottom as the third member of their odd little group.

That brought Draco to his current situation: sitting inside the library, a month after the group assignment, attempting to outline the project paperwork with his group mates, and trying to ignore Harry Potter.

"So, Longbottom..." He scowled. "Have you finished writing the analysis of grimfern that we need as part of our project body?"

Neville paled. "Um, I'd need a few more days."

"Look, we gave you the necessary resources. I cannot believe that four simple feet of parchment would be difficult after all the research material that you have on hand."

"Malfoy, the research was paltry at best," Harry cut in calmly. "It would take a lot of imagination to stretch that into four feet of writing. Neville needs some time."

Damn that interfering little brat. "I just want to stress the importance of this project, Potter. Time is a precious commodity. There's no use in wasting a few days when the deadline is getting closer than ever," Draco said coldly.

"We're not wasting any time," Harry replied. "As far as I know, we're all working our asses off for this and there's no need to further stress ourselves when we have the situation completely at hand." He paused. "We can afford to have Neville work a few days longer."

Draco growled inwardly. Potter always managed to get what he wanted—by manipulating him and everybody else around him into agreeing. There was no way for Draco to disagree without appearing like a tyrant. "Fine," he said grudgingly. "We'll meet again on Thursday. Then I hope we can start with the potion itself by then."

"That'll be perfect." Harry's green eyes glinted as he glanced at Draco before leaving. Maybe he did it on purpose. But Draco found himself frowning thoughtfully as he watched the two Gryffindors walk away from the table.


"That goes there," Draco snapped as he pointed to a large flask.

Harry stopped. He was about to pour the blue fluid into the cauldron. "I thought the grimfern sap goes with—"

"Potter, don't be a fool. If you pour that in here, we won't be alive to pummel Longbottom later for being unforgivably late today."

Harry grinned as he moved away from the stressed blond. "Take it easy, man. Neville will be here. He was probably delayed by Trelawney. You know how she loves to lecture him after each class."

"I wouldn't know, Potter. I try to avoid the dragonfly as much as I can." A bead of sweat dropped on Draco's sleeve as he carefully stirred the contents of the cauldron. "Why did we ever choose this particular potion? This takes longer to make than Polyjuice!"

"Maybe because you like it tough."

Draco turned, surprised.

There was that tone again. And the look. Always, that look.


He found himself thinking... wondering, even.

As he stirred the potion, carefully including the ingredients during the next weeks, Draco's mind started to wander away from his task. He was almost absent-minded at times, blankly staring at the swirl of colors before him. But the shimmering broth didn't hold his thoughts.

They would start when Harry would speak. The voice was always the key. And he'd ponder... think about the vitality of the black-haired boy in a way he had never done before. He would grin inside, making-up different reasons of why Harry managed to capture the fascination of so many people. He would stare at the messy head while Harry had his back turned, squinting as the tousled locks, seeing funny patterns no one else saw. But, as messy as they were, his hair always smelled clean. Draco knew this, for one could not avoid it in such cramped working conditions.

And it was not just his hair. Examination was a broad word compared to what Draco did. Of course, he was discreet. But he marveled in watching Harry, exploring the person with his eyes in his quest to feed his odd questions on Harry's being. He would stare at his hands, seeing beyond the tanned fingers, liking the fact that Harry touched everything he held with care—as if they were all breakable.

He watched him put the flask down, fingers sliding over the glass surface.

Were people that fragile to him?

He turned back to the cauldron. He would probably never know. But those fingers... on his skin... He shivered.

"What's wrong, Draco? Is it cold?"

"Shut up, Longbottom."


Was it his fault?

Draco sat on the grass, liking the dew that tickled his bare feet. It was one of the little pleasures that he let himself have in mornings such as these.

It had been two months, a week, and four days since he frowned at Harry Potter across the Potions classroom, just after Professor Snape announced their names. Time seemed to pass so fast when one thought about it. But a lot could happen in two months. He smiled, remembering his thoughts on that day.

These days, he liked to blame Harry. After all, he started it. With those looks. But did he really?

Maybe Draco was just dreaming. He liked to dream—even when awake. Maybe he saw things where there were none, found meaning in emptiness. After all, Harry did nothing. He was the proper classmate, very cooperative. He did or said nothing beyond what had to be done. But it was a nice dream to have, nonetheless.

He sighed. Their time together was almost over. And later? Things would go back to the way they were, and Draco would have to wake up at last.

He snapped a blade of grass, feeling the edge with his fingertips. So soft. Beautiful. He slid his fingers across, cutting the skin. But sharp. Like reality.

He looked up. The sun would rise any minute now.



He turned. "Harry?"

He plopped down beside him, the pair enveloped with the faint mist that always followed dawn. "You're early."

Draco strove to sound distant. "I said the meeting was supposed to be in the second Potions lab, not beside the lake. And it was at eight o'clock, not five thirty."

"Am I disturbing your peace and quiet?" He sounded almost teasing.

"No," Draco answered reluctantly. Then, because he couldn't really resist asking, "What do you want?"

He swore those green eyes twinkled. But they dimmed shortly after, looking at him seriously. "You."

There have been but a few moments in his life when Draco found himself lost for words. This was one of those.

Harry took the silence as an encouragement. Draco felt warm fingers slide behind his neck, saw full, reddish lips draw near... until he felt them. It was strangely soft, their kiss. There was none of the fireworks and stars that he always imagined there would be when the moment came. But fireworks were nothing compared to this. Theirs was a slow burn, a gentle simmering potion that had been brewing for a time, just now revealed.

He felt the grass beneath his back, and Harry's hands on his chest. Harry's tongue slid through his lips, touching his own eagerly. They pushed against his, running its moist length across his teeth. Devouring lips. Then he suddenly pulled away.

"Draco," he whispered. It was a question.


Harry didn't need more encouragement. He ripped Draco's shirt open, showing none of the gentleness the blond boy had previously observed. He bared Draco's skin to the chill, throwing the torn pieces of cotton away from them. Draco shut his eyes, shivering slightly. His arms were spread wide over the grass, welcoming any assault that came his way. But none arrived.

Harry used his tongue. He licked Draco lovingly, starting from the belly button upwards. He took his time with the nipples, warming the sensitive pink nubs with his breath. He sucked with abandon, biting the hardened nipple gently as Draco moaned. He was merciless, teasing the blond with his teeth as Draco shuddered with want.

"Patience," Harry admonished, smiling. He reached the pale collarbone, sinking his teeth through the skin, watching it mark red beneath his eyes. He kissed Draco passionately, one hand reaching down, squeezing the blond's firm ass. Draco whimpered against his lips.

"I want... please," he breathed, pushing his hips up to Harry, his erection straining to break free from the constricting clothing. Harry grinned, loving his wanton demands.

He moved down, unsnapping Draco's pants deftly with his hands. Draco's eyes widened as he felt Harry's lips close over the tip of his cock, replacing the cold with the velvet heat of his mouth. He gripped the grass as Harry sucked, putting him deeper inside his mouth. His tongue massaged the base of his erection as he pulled the blond hairs gently, throwing Draco into a frenzy. He fucked Harry's mouth fervently, feeling the sinful green eyes watch him squirm as he came, spilling his seed on the two of them.

To Draco's amazement, Harry licked the come that stained his hand. He traced a finger along the spunk on Draco's groin then pushed it into the blond's mouth. The grey eyes closed once more as he sucked Harry's digits, tasting himself, drowning his fingers with his saliva.

"Now it's my turn," Harry whispered. He turned Draco on his back, fingers probing around Draco's hips.

Draco felt Harry's fingers touch his entrance, moistening the hole with his wet hand. He stiffened as Harry attempted to enter.

"Relax," he soothed. He kissed Draco's back, nipping the faint outline of his backbone against his skin. He ran his left hand over Draco's thigh, stopping at his groin. Harry touched his balls teasingly. "I'll make it good. For both of us."

The tension disappeared, and Draco felt Harry's fingers inside him, searching. He gasped as Harry touched a sensitive spot. And Harry, finding what he wanted, further tortured Draco with his scissoring fingers, until the blond begged for release.

"Now, please..." he gasped, his limbs shuddering with desire as Harry played him with no remorse.

Harry slid his fingers out. He was painfully aroused and had only been holding his urge to fuck Draco mindlessly for he wanted the blond to be ready for him. He coated his shaft with Draco's come, the semen slick over his eager cock. He gripped Draco's trembling hips, moving it upward as he prepared to enter him at last.

Harry wasn't small. Draco winced at the initial pain as Harry moved inside him, excruciatingly slow. He felt Harry hesitate as Draco groaned. But he didn't want him to stop! The blond bucked backwards, further impaling Harry inside. He wanted to feel Harry, feel all of him sheathed in his heat.

The sight of the marble-white body submitting, rearing into him, was too much for Harry's self-control. He started to thrust, slowly at first, then faster—burying himself balls deep into Draco with every plunge. His tightness was beautiful, squeezing him, driving his pleasure to rise beyond his expectations.

The grey eyes rolled as Harry drove him from behind, hitting his sensitive prostate with every push. Draco's cheek was wet with dew as he rested his face on the grass, sobbing Harry's name over and over again. At the same moment, Harry gripped Draco's erection with one hand, fucking him with his hand until Draco shuddered beneath him, squeezing his own shaft with a sudden tightening of that ring of muscle. This was Draco's dream, his fantasy... and he had Harry here now, worshipping his body as he screamed Draco's name, hot come flowing inside the blond as they both came with one last, furious thrust.

They slumped on the grass, the fog cooling their bodies as they panted.

Draco sighed faintly, the blur of his surroundings starting to clear with each passing second. He no longer remembered what time it was, and he grinned at the thought of what a student would think if anyone stumbled onto them at that moment—which was very possible given their lack of proper coverage.

Harry rested on his back, one arm beneath Draco's head, taking deep breaths as his flushed skin turned back to normal.

Draco watched him idly. He sidled closer, nipping Harry's earlobe before he said, teasingly, "You know, this is all your fault."

The green pools blinked, amused. Harry pulled Draco into his arms, nuzzling the blond's neck as he muttered, "You just want a repeat performance."


(October 2003)

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