Wednesday, 19 August 2009

WANT - A Harry Potter FanFic (& A Bad One!)

I was dared into it, okay! Right, this is my first EVER attempt of writing FanFic in the world of Harry Potter (I felt dirty reading or writing previous FanFic - Felt like I was Betraying JK Rowling!) So, here it is...


Draco Malfoy wasn’t entirely certain on how he had found himself in the situation he was in.

Lying on the bed, he gasped as a rough hand gently drew lines along his throat, his jawline and his cheekbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The fingers traced over his lips and, despite himself, Draco licked them.

Part of him was repulsed by his actions. Yet another part of him felt… felt alive. It felt like every nerve-ending in his body was on fire. And with the hand touching Draco’s skin, it felt like an electric current was pulsing through him. All Draco could think about was of the hand and the person whose hand it belonged.

He wasn’t entirely sure when these feelings started, but he suspected that they were always there, buried deep within himself. But it was within his first few years at Hogwarts did he became suddenly aware of how outside he was compared to his peers. Even comparing himself to his fellow Slytherins, he felt unlike them, in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. As if, he was out of step with everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

He was first aware of it one morning in the Great Hall in his second year. The owls were in flight, swooping down with letters, Howlers, parcels, newspapers and magazines, dropping them to either their owners or the recipient. Draco had just collected a small, tiny letter from his eagle owl, when he looked up and they made eye contract. Something inside Draco’s chest fluttered, like a small bird was trapped inside Draco’s ribcage. But then, the eagle owl crowed and the eye contract was broken.

But the fluttering in his chest didn’t stop. It always flared up whenever eye contract was made throughout the year.

Draco didn’t understand and, when the school year ended, he was grateful to be gone. Expect that, when he was home, he felt a deep painfully ache in his chest, as if the bird inside his rib cage was peaking at his heart and lungs. There were days he would lay on his bed and wish for the end of summer to return to Hogwarts, while on other days, he would be thinking of ways to not go back. He was so consumed with these thoughts that he didn’t realise that his House Elf had been freed till the penultimate week of August.

September came far too fast and he was back at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, his friends and family there, continuing their lives as if nothing had happened. Draco felt a mix of emotions. Nerves, mostly. But he could sense the adrenalin rushing through his blood stream. And, for several long minutes, he thought that he had wasted his energies on the emotions till he saw, through the crowd, boarding the Hogwarts Express, those eyes looking at him. Across the distance, Draco felt them burning him and he felt the bird inside his chest get excited. And, for a fraction of a second, Draco enjoyed the attention and the excitement beginning inside him, till he realised that this was going to end badly.

He tried, throughout the school year, to keep out of the gaze of those eyes. In one Magical Creatures lesson, he got himself attacked by a Hippogriff on purpose. That gave him several days in the Hospital Wing, away from everyone. He was alone. Expect for the feeling inside his chest.

When he left the Hospital Wing, he made a plan. A plan he decided to stick to for the rest of the school year. He arrived to lessons either just on time or a few minutes late. He would sit as close to the door as he could without looking like a swat. He would stay in his House’s Common Room as much as possible. When going to Quidditch practice or matches, stay with a group of people. Never be alone. Pretend that nothing had happened.

But he couldn’t pretend. Not all the time.

Sometimes, in the Great Hall, during breakfast or dinner, Draco would catch himself looking in the general direction and would, quickly, look away. Everytime the doors of the Great Hall opened, he would find himself looking up to see who it was and, always, felt disappointed when he saw who had opened them.

As he left Hogwarts that third year, keeping his distance from the Demontors, Draco vowed to himself to get over this addiction. It was slowly becoming an obsession and it wasn’t healthy.

But when he returned for his fourth year, he found it almost impossible to keep himself in check. He would, without meaning to, taking routes that might give him a glance. In lesson, he would make sure he sat in the back of the room, expect for Potions, where he felt more comfortable to sit closer to Professor Snape.

But that was when the dreams started. Dreams Draco knew that he should be happening. Dreams Draco wanted to stop dreaming, and yet, longed for every time he went to bed.

So, with all that he had done, Draco wasn’t exactly sure how he got to be lying on the bed as the other was unbuttoning his shirt. The fingerprints almost burning imprints into Draco’s chest as he undid the buttons one by one. Draco’s hands turned to fists under the pillow as lips gently ran down his jawline and along his collarbone. Draco didn’t expect the lips to move and gasped as they kissed his nipple. It became erect as a tongue gently teased it. Draco closed his eyes, and thought he saw fireworks under his closed lids.

He felt the lips pull away from his chest and felt something very light brush his own. Because of some deep-rooted instinct and because of desire, Draco leaned forward and pushed his lips on the other’s. The lips that Draco was kissing were, surprisingly, quite soft but there was an undercurrent of hardness of them, as if revealing a deepness that Draco would never have thought of when looking at those eyes. They, also, tasted pleasantly of spearmint.

Their mouths moved together, as though they would never divide. Draco’s hands were on the other’s face, pulling it deeper into the kiss, as if the kiss was his anchor to life. As Draco’s hands held the face, other hands flexed and drew lines down his neck, his chest, his stomach, under his…

“Wait,” Draco pulled back half a centrimetre, panting for breath. His words came out as a whisper, his eyes still closed. “Are you sure you want to –?”

One single finger rested gently on his lips to silence him. Draco fought against the urge to suck it.

“I’m sure,” whispered a voice, close to Draco’s ear. His breath sent chills throughout Draco’s whole body in a strangely pleasant way.

Draco risked opening his eyes a slit and saw a pair of eyes smouldering down at him. The two pairs of lips touched again, but this time, the kiss was gentler. There was the urgency, anchor to life feeling to this kiss. It was a slower kiss. A slow building kiss that made the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck stand to attention.

As the lips parted and one set slowly went down his neck, Draco risked a moment of enjoyment. He couldn’t quite believe it. Here he was, lying on a bed with someone he would never thought possible.

Here he was, madly in love with -

(Oh, COME OFF IT! You think I was going to tell you?! [Okay, I have two endings, and one of them was a total twist! A joke twist but a twist, very the less. If you beg, or give me cookies, will consider revealing both endings... How's that for a deal?])

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