....

[reenka]

...I just had the most disturbing vision out of the corner of my eye, of my plushie!Harry with long wild black hair o_0 Y'know, but still with his messed-up striped t-shirt & jeans & glasses & stuff.

As flash occurred, I realized I would possibly adore girl!Harry even more than boy!Harry, in a way. In an OMG CRUSH sort of way o_0 He's just. My darling as a boy, but as a girl he's. Just. Dude. Breasts o_0 Awkwardness. Still wearing boy clothes. And blushing a lot. And still being very angry. And punching Ron for staring. And. Suddenly getting weird reactions about... boys. Which may or may not have always been there. And. Liking Ginny more. And. Omg, breasts.


Feel like the biggest perv that ever lived o_0 I know Silvia wrote it, but see. This is less about the funny (though still funny) and more about the. Y'know. Sex. And gender-bending. And Harry not being gorgeous! Just lanky & skinny & with wild hair & small breasts & still the urge to kick things. Like, he's totally the same except. Y'know. Yeah.

Girl!Harry & Hermione, ack. He'd like-- go to her for advice and-- stuff-- and-- fumbling would occur, and. It would be so awkward! And. Hot! And Ron! Poor Ron, with the staring and the being rather awkward and messed with and. Ack! And. Draco would. Be so confused. And angry. And confused. And how could he act the same way? Potter is a GIRL! It's just. Too weird. So. He just. Avoids. And wanks. And stalks, like in the shower or something. o_0

Seriously have to fight urge to write girl!Harry. Ack. Someone talk me out of this...! Please.

Wah. Okay I think I've purged it. 'Cause clearly it's not going anywhere, it's just-- ack short skirts & knobby knees...! And Draco like, fainting (and we can't forget Ron-- what with the wanting to grope Harry's breasts 'cause they're mates & that's the sort of favor one would expect), and Hermione being protective (or possessive! Harry, you must take care of yourself now that you're one of us!) and Ginny deciding she's gay (well, she is in my head) and. Omg. Everyone Wants Harry = Reena Is Ever So Lame. It's just. I can't decide who to pair her with-- I just think everyone would be confused, it's not that they all want her. It's just that... hormones are everywhere. And she wanks a lot. And possibly I could see it being H/D but mostly. Girl!Harry. Still angry. Ack. And violent! And. Getting into physical fights!! Omg. See, this is why I should be asleep now. Bad Reena, no Mary-Sue!Harry for you. *slaps own wrist*
~~

PS. potter_mouth can most definitely have my babies anytime, anywhere. Forget about that girl!Harry thing, I'm totally sold on the testosterone overload, I really am. CALL ME, BABY. :-*
    I mean, it's likely enough you like boys, but you being fictional & me being creative, we can work something out, non?

Comments

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

Oh, I think Draco/me goes as far as bad traits go. I mean, his good traits, I don't have them.

He'd be jealous like a kid with his voldie plushie.

Re: :-"

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

What good traits? *ducks*
though I generally tend to think jealousy is cute. like a voldie plushie. and then there's the fact that to me, it's just an excuse for sex.



teehee it was fun writing porn back and forth, man.
though I'm starting to feel less than creative, especially since I just read this fic where they fucked with one of them holding the other up vertically(!!) & upside down (!!!!)

Though there's no reason to write it if it's not one's kink, is there. Well, unless it's one's RP partner's kink, ahahahahah. *coughs*

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

name a kink.

holding the other up vertically(!!) & upside down (!!!!)

I... don't understand... Mom, I'm scared...

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

now i'll try to drabble for them all.

ahaha, yeah, the whole "you're my hero, but i'll take every shred of dignity you have away, here, let me spank you" uke-harry syndrome is really a kink i don't share... MAYBE YOU COULD TELL.

Malfoy chuckled, “I always knew you were a cock whore.”

MY EYES!!!!

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

blood-play--> not anal, I mean, like, licking... swords... mmm

“Stay where you are, Potter.”

Malfoy didn’t look right.

The weapon didn’t belong with him, for once. It wasn’t the simple fact that he wasn’t the Slytherin heir by a long shot, and the Staff wasn’t going to be anything more than a battered old club. Malfoy looked bent under its weight, even while he handled it with technical flawless art. But Malfoy didn’t belong in black robes and the rancid smell of long dead bodies and the burning pounding of rain. He belonged in unwrinkled robes just out of fresh smelling laundry and the brightest corner of the Library and the pompous tones of Grumbumble draught debates and Harry’s bad.

“I told you – don’t fucking get close!”

Malfoy swung the Staff around, his own body swaying with effort, and Harry took another step forward.

“Stop it, I told you, just stop doing that, you can’t enter Slytherin soil, I’m not going to let you do that -

Harry took another step. His heart was beating wildly but the rain was louder than that, even, and the Malfoy Mansion ruins glittered of white stone and the black pattern of broken incantations. Malfoy guarded his temple, eyes rabid, the panting coming like a rippled hiss through his teeth. They widened in fear and a murderous thirst for revenge when Harry kept advancing.

“You can’t do this, Potter, I’m going to kill you first –

Harry’s hands were empty.

“You can’t take this too, this is mine, do you hear me? MINE!”

The club swung again. Harry ducked down just in time, and Malfoy stumbled with the propulsion, and when he raised his bloody drenched head again his eyes were wet with frustration.

“Leave me alone!”

Harry stopped.

“It’s MINE! I’LL KILL IT FIRST!”

Malfoy stood straight, finally, his dirty skinny body lean and the arc of his arm graceful. It trembled, then Malfoy clenched his fist around the Staff and all was still. The Snake head was pointed on the scattered stones, the topless column, the bloodied pentacles.

“I’ll kill it first, Potter,” he murmured again, and somehow through the rain, Harry heard him.

He was feet away from Malfoy now, the tiredness in his body as violent as the icy rain, his boots unrecognizable under the bath of mud. He’d conquered everything he had to conquer, and he had no enemies any longer, and he did’t want Malfoy to be his last. He’d conquered everything they asked him to, and the only place he’d wanted for himself was impossible to reach.

If you try to take it he’ll kill himself, if you go away your hands will be always empty. There was no trespassing that confine. Harry raised a hand and offered it to Malfoy.

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

“It’s not yours,” he said. His fingers shook with fatigue. “It’s mine, don’t you get it?”

Malfoy’s lips stretched back around his teeth, the snarl of a dying man. “You greedy little bastard –

“No. I don’t care. I’m not letting you. I can take this as well, you know. Before you can as much as crack a brick. Take the Staff away. You’re not free to do as you please –

Malfoy’s arm shook violently. When the convulsion had passed, more angry tears spilled down his face, drawing patterns in the mud.

Like incantations. They looked good on him. Possession.

“I’m not free, am I? THAT’S IT, ISN’T IT? I CAN’T HAVE WHAT IS MINE AND I CAN’T BE FREE AND YOU DON’T WANT ME TO BE FREE BECAUSE I HAVEN’T FUCKING DESERVED, DID I? I’LL KILL MYSELF FIRST –

“I’m not going to let you free because you need to be happy first.”

A blinding white light exploded in Harry’s head when he threw himself at Malfoy – Malfoy’s arm jerked forward like a self-preservation instinct, and the Staff hit his temple so hard he thought he heard bones cracking. But no, and the second after that they were on the ground, rolling, more mud on Draco’s body and more blood on Harry’s body, and face, and Malfoy clenched his teeth with a sort of never surrendering helplessness. The rain never stopped, but at one point their bodies did, right in front of the heart of the Mansion, the last unconquered land, all that was left over of Malfoy. Harry blocked him, holding him down with his weight, lodging himself firmly in the curve of Malfoy’s legs. His palm connected with the Staff and his fingers curled around it gently, unviolently, taking possession of the Slytherin Snake more easily than he ever possessed Malfoy.

It fleshed again – the white light of power – inside Harry like pain and power and magic, another flesh of white when the Snake inside the Staff came to life, again, like it was supposed to be, where he was supposed to be, in the Slytherin heir’s hand.

Malfoy growled and struggled and never stopped crying, even when the violent resistence of his hand was melted by the Snake own recognition of its Master.

He drew a breath, shuddering, turning his head away. “… You couldn’t stop, could you? You had to take it, didn’t you? You can never leave me alone, can you?”

Malfoy’s hand fell to the ground, a bloodied lump, chopped and scorched into submission by the Snake’s invisible blades. A blade for every scale, for every cell of skin the Basilisk shred, for every slitherin contortion of the blond boy who held Harry between his legs.

Harry took his hand. “I can never leave you alone,” he said against the slashed skin, and his tongue rasped softly against him, healing what he had just harmed. “I can’t let you free,” Harry was shuddering, too, and his eyes wet and laden with tears. “You need to be possessed first. You can’t be free if you aren’t mine first.”

Malfoy’s hand opened, slowly, and the spasms of his body slowed, his sobs subdued. Harry’s tongue entered every crevice. It was inside every vein.

“You don’t know how to be free, Draco.”

There was a wail, Malfoy's last tired buckle. Harry slid further inside the fold of his body.

“I don’t want to be free of you,” he whispered to the pelting rain, sucking blood like a lifeline, stocking himself with poison to never go without again.

(next one: taIlored to your needs. sorry for incompetence, etc.)

:> :>

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

Oooh, this is really interesting. The freedom/possession thing and the Slytherin staff (but... Harry's not the Heir...??) and the whole wild-thrashing Malfoy & wise-powerful!Harry (teehee). It went all symbolic & plotty instead of porny, but I dig that. The plot...! One can't be free of the plot...! ahahah. You're good with the symbolic dialogue-- I do that too; have to constantly force myself to write 'normal' speech :>

(ahahah 'my needs' :D :D)

Re: :> :>

[malafede.livejournal.com]

oh, of course he's the heir <3 <3 <3

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

genderfuck--> cross-dressing, gender-switch, etc (.....nngh)

He was still curled into a ball, hugging and hiding himself and cracking with murderous rage. Harry sat down next to him, a hand resting gently on his shaking spine, and the armchair gave under his weight, squashy and comfortable in a way Draco detested.

Draco growled and shot into a sitting position, slapping Harry’s hand away. “I’m going to kill Weasley.”

“Yes.” Harry bit his lip, and tried to make his smile sweet. “You told me so.”

“DON’T PATRONISE ME! I’M GONNA KILL YOU AS WELL !” Draco’s arms jerked forward, and the tips of his small, short-nailed fingers brushed against Harry’s throat. Draco’s impossibly huge eyes flashed with triumph and anticipation, eyelids blacker and longer than they had ever been, before something moved, painfully. The flesh over his body tugged down, and then surged upwards again, bouncing and bobbing like an unwanted, contagious appendix.

Harry’s eyes followed, hypnotised, uncaring of any upcoming strangulation. Draco’s breath stopped, his eyes followed, and with a wail, he let his arms fall and cross over his chest and went back inside his foetal shell.

“I’m going to delete Gryffindor,” he muttered. “Go away.”

“Draco…”

“Don’t! Use that voice now. If you as much as try to touch me again I’m going to eat your balls.”

Harry swallowed. He wasn’t thinking about his endangered balls, he was thinking about touching and being told off. This was not so dramatic as Draco was making it out to be. This was unexpected and shocking and he could and did understand that Draco had trouble adjusting… but Harry didn’t. He just had no trouble at all.

He wasn’t even as surprised as he should have been. That Malfoy made such a perfect girl, it didn’t surprise him. That he hadn’t mourned the loss of Malfoy cock yet, he was even less surprised.

Maybe Harry wasn’t as gay as he thought.

“I think my teeth are sharper now.”

Maybe Draco was not as much of boy as he thought.

Harry was getting another erection. Something was wrong with him today. Something other than Draco’s girl bits.

“Draco, Ron is working on the antidote right now…”

“Oh, he is WORKING. I guess I should be GRATEFUL.”

“No, but don’t kill him for real, eh? I think Hermione has already come close this morning.”

“He deserves everything she can dish out.”

“Not that I think it was unwarranted –

“I hope she’s still dabbling in Dark Arts.”

Harry snorted. “Hermione doesn’t do Dark Magic, Draco.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” He wailed again, suddenly, the keening sort of battle roar of a defanged lion, and shuddered, he drew his legs higher into his belly. “Go away. I don’t want you close to me right now. I am all wrong. I smell all wrong.”

The smell was different, all right, though it was anything but wrong. Harry’s eyes tailed the progress of Draco’s body endings, the places where bones met and crossed and became angles, different angles than they were yesterday. Draco’s rear was still skinny, but it was round too, ripe and tender-looking. Under his trousers, no longer perfectly fitting, the form of his lover was changing with every shudder. Harry felt his mouth go dry with the urge to bite, like sinking his teeth in a tangy tartlet, new but at the same time familiar, roofed with the cream of some exotic fruit.

His head lowered slowly, that addition of flesh tantalising and yet it was still Draco, still the same, and what was that smell he called wrong? It wasn’t wrong at all, it was heady and it made Harry’s nostrils flare and he wondered if it could be distilled and kept away –

“GO AWAY!” Draco shrieked.

Harry burst to his feet.

“Right. I’ll go check on Ron’s progresses.”

“That one has not progressed since he was two. Just do me a favour and collective-suicide, and I’ll have Professor Snape end my misery.”

Even his voice was softer – softer and more pointed at the same time. Even his rage was all different. Tangy different exotic rage –

“…Checking on Ron’s progresses.”

(the rest after lunch. need porn batteries.)

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

genderfuck--> cross-dressing, gender-switch, etc (.....nngh) WHEREIN HARRY IS A PERVERT

“Pervert,” Harry breathed, staring disbelievingly in his own hands. It was not just the lozenges over the Slytherin skirt, and not just the black polished Mary Janes, it was not just the frills of Pansy Parkinson’s slip, it wasn’t just the ridiculously tiny knickers (those where frilled, too). It was the clarity with which he could picture them over Draco’s new less pointy body, or over Draco’s old plain pointy one, the clarity of his repressed maliciousness when he’d gone to Parkinson telling himself he was just trying to help.

He’d had to tell her, of course; he couldn’t let Slytherin entirely in the dark concerning Draco’s whereabouts. Parkinson had laughed rather hysterically for a half ten minutes, and when she calmed down she pulled her dresser open and started throwing him stuff.

Harry had told himself he’d not gone there with precisely that end in mind, but it was not quite working. He raised the frilly knickers up to his eyes, and his cheeks burned crimson. Draco would spread his legs and there would only be that small strap of fabric to separate Harry from the folds inside. The smell, the kind of same but tangier smell, and how would these knickers look stretched over Draco’s swollen cock, how would they look smeared with precome and would Draco wank off for him –

“Pervert,” Harry told himself again, dropping the knickers back inside the bundle of clothes, and whispered his password to Lord Gryffindor the Second – Warder of the Head Boy’s Rooms. Godric Gryffindor’s disappointing pallid son eyed the garments in his arms curiously, and when Harry glared, flushed and low-rumbling, he shrugged, opening the door softly.

“You said you were a pervert, son. I can’t fault you.”

“… I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you think.”

“No need to be shy, son. I’m not that old not to remember, back in my days…”

Harry slammed the door shut with a kick. “Old pervert,” he muttered, turning over to inspect the dark inside his apartment. The furniture was glittering, squeaky-clean and orderly as it tended to be since Draco slept with him, and not an object looked out of place, not one of Harry’s possessions, not even in the shadows. Piled books inside his shelves, a basket of candies over the knitted towel, the frames of portraits aligned and tidy. It creeped Harry sometimes; most of times he was just thankful Draco knew how to make himself useful at least in some ways.

“Draco?” he called.

Silence.

Harry entered the darkness; it was pitch-black outside, and Draco had not lighted a candle. Harry found his way to the bedroom by blind memory, and dropped his charge over the four crimson posters on his bed. “Draco?” he called again, his voice curious and just slightly nervous.

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

There was a gurgling, then. A soft, muffled gushing of water, and Harry’s ear stretched in the direction of the bathroom. He smiled, quickly slipping his robe off his body. After all, where would Draco go? Even if he felt the need to extreme precautions to hide his shame, where better protected would he have been than in Harry’s rooms? Draco was never going to leave his place until he was turned back, and he wasn’t going to turn back that easily. His clothes were still there, too – slightly shorter robe and slightly shorter trousers and slightly smaller shirt – and even those were going to be overseized now – thrown carelessly over the puffed chair by the window.

The smile on Harry’s face widened into a grin, then a smirk, when he felt splashing and hissing and imagined bubbles adorning Draco’s flat chest, and then adorning Draco’s ripe chest, and he got instantly hard. With a growl, he untied and threw away his shoes, and then his sockets. He left his shirt fall over the carpet, and he was only covered by the trousers of his uniforms when he opened the door to the bathroom. Trousers that fit, even too well, even too snugly, whereas Draco’s pulpy ass and Draco’s shorter legs and Draco’s… quim made his entirely pointless.

Harry was groaning and his hand was shooting to his trousers, palm pressing down over his dick, when he realised Draco had not pulled the curtains over the tub closed. It was too late when remembered the flash of clothes over the window chair – the careless heap of clothes so unlike Draco. To see Harry so hard and desperate to get off would have made Draco exultant normally, would have made him flushed and grinning wickedly and devouring at Harry’s cock already, but he was sitting in the water, now, his legs to his chest, his face between his knees, his shoulders shaking.

“Draco…” Harry murmured, and a flare of guilt so strong it burned went through his blood, made him move his hand from his crotch ashamedly and his cock whiter slightly.

“BLOODY FUCKING WANKER!” Draco yelled, his head shooting up and his hands slapping the water so hard some drops landed on Harry’s stiffening body. “I’M GOING TO TERMINATE HIS FUCKING BLOODLINE.”

(… to be continued when I get more energizer and get free of the compulsion to make Harry an old filthy man...)

some more, then change of subject...

[malafede.livejournal.com]

Harry's mouth opened, the closed. Draco splashed unperturbed, except for when the other took a step forward, and he had to turn around murderously. He studied Harry from head to toes, his mouth curled with distaste. He splashed him, rather vigorously, and covered Harry's indignant squeal with commanding, haugthy tones.

"So what," he asked, chin raised, "is your fucking problem, Potter?"

Harry sighed. Weaving his soaked hands around, he sighed on the tub edge, causing Draco to scuttle away and deeper in the water. "Are you going to terminate Ron's family?"

"You can fucking bet I am. Look at me!"

"I'm... looking."

"Sure you are, Potter, but as per your usual, you're too self-blinded with fear to actually see."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Draco, you've got a cunt."

"SHUT IT, SHUT IT, FUCKING SHUT IT!"

The water raised and roared like the eye of a fucking tornado, and Harry felt torn between laughing and crying. Surely Draco couldn't get whiner, no matter the gender? Harry had known plenty of girls with better self-possession, but before he could voice this thought, a push on his side made him lose his balance, and he fell gracelessly to the drenched pavement.

"WHAT THE FUCK? Are you out of your fucking mind, Malfoy?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" Draco yelled, face purple and voice shrill. "I AM A FUCKING GIRL. I AM FAT. MY FAT IS HEAVY. I AM TIRED AND STINKING AND STICKY."

"... You know that your voice just broke?"

"Aaaaargh!" Malfoy's arms surged upwards and then slammed down hard on the still storming water, causing another cyclone to erupt. "Fuck you, Potter, just go fuck yourself with a Weasley broomstick, go fuck Weasley for all I care, fuck her bloody brother. This is all your fault, anyway. If you were so fucking unhappy to eat ass you could just tell me, there was no sodding need to come up with this ridiculous scheme -

Harry sat on the pavement. He made to grab Draco's wild hands but Draco shrunk away and gave him a filthy look.

"It's not a scheme," Harry said, wiping his forehead. "I had no idea about Ron's... gift, and I'm not unhappy fucking ass, Draco, are you blind? And I don't want to fuck Ginny, how many time do I have to tell you?"

"SILENCE!" Draco yelled.

Re: some more, then change of subject...

[malafede.livejournal.com]

Harry's eyes flashed, but Draco raised, suddenly, water cascading down in rivulets all over the... curves... of his body. Harry's thoughts of violence flew. He'd never seen so much naked flesh. He'd never seen so many rolls, and crevices, and never saw waterdrops tracing quite those patterns down Draco's body.

Draco's upper lip lifted. "Just look at yourself, you drooling idiot. Since you've started to smell cunt, you've stopped thinking."

Harry gasped, eyes darting upwards.

"You're not even gay, you're just bloody horny." Draco stepped out of the water, cringing, and stepped around Harry without watching him.

Harry grabbed his ankle.

It was small-boned and frail.

"... That's not true. It's not the smell of cunt."

Draco kicked. When he realised Harry wasn't letting go, he got pissed again. His features hadn't changed much, just rounded around the edges and his eyes had gotten somewhat bigger, and he was still as pretty as always, and his flushed cheeks were just as hot.

"What the fuck is it, then? Weasley conconed a potion to grant your sappy greatest wish and I turned into a rabid hormonal girl!"

"You were always rabid, Malfoy."

Draco kicked again, and Harry tugged hard, so that he had to grab the lavatory to mantain his balance.

Harry ignored the sharpening in his growl, like a belly hungry rumble. "And I'm positive I've never seen Hermione acting quite this hormonal."

"What the merry hell do you know, Potter? Maybe she does with her boys."

Harry barked a chocking laughter. "Hermione doesn't have boys."

Draco's nose wrinkled, and seizing the lavatory firmly in his hands, he tried to pull away. "Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you should go try her cunt, Potter, since you're so eager to try."

"Will you stop trying to wind me up?" Harry wrapped both his arms around Draco's leg, his chest twisting at an unnatural angle and his feets anchoring on the tub. "I don't want Hermione's cunt." He chocked, and Draco's leg pulled again, and the shadow inside his soft, wet legs flashed over his eyes like the brightest light. "I don't want any cunt."

"That's good, Potter, because sure you aren't getting any from me."

"... What?" Harry squeaked.

Draco kicked him, eyes gleaming in triumph when Harry's apparent shock distracted him just that much he needed to be taught a proper lesson. He'd not calculated Harry's hero status, and his supernatural recovery time, and the thin edge to which his patience had been wearing. Harry tugged again and Draco went from triumph to misery, to horror, to crushing defeat; to crushing sprawled into Potter's lap.

....

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

I DON'T THINK I SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED, ON THE OTHER HAND.... ><;;;





.....omg am i enjoying this too much??

lkjfsalk;

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

....I so ♥ you, omfg...!!1
*dead*

!!

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

OMG HOW MUCH DO I LOVE THIS??!!kjahfdskljhfasjkhd aaaarnghhgh <33333333333333 :-X!!

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

http://www5e.biglobe.ne.jp/~makofu/kuro_033.htm


... man.

Re: :-"

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

Reminds me of Penelope's fics, & yours a bit. Draco's all possessed/possessive and Harry's all zen & at peace with Draco needing him & stuff. It reminds me of my early experience of H/D, when Draco was all cold & fey & Harry was all kinder & pre-OoTP & delicate in his own way.

So -that's- why I used to write atmospheric angstfics with no sex~:)

Re: :-"

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

* * *

Sometimes he almost wants to say the words, but his lips turn blue, and it's not enough. He's silent as he lays his cheek against Harry's back, and traps Harry's heart between it and his hand.

He wants to tell Harry every secret he's never admitted he knew, but he can't. Harry would listen, and his eyes would shutter and he'd walk away with a slow, even gait, and then Draco would grow slowly colder until the winter found its way beneath his fingernails. It would be over, he thinks. If he speaks, it would be over.

==

Harry looks down at the long, pale fingers resting on his chest, and he can't move. If he moves, Draco will startle and jerk away; if he moves, he'll remember why he should really get going; if he moves, he'll turn around and see Draco there, looking at him with those empty cold eyes full of everything Harry hates.

Harry doesn't look at Draco. He just listens to him breathe and watches the sky.

He remembers.

He remembers flying together earlier that day. He remembers hexing Draco off his broom earlier that year, when he thought it might be entertaining. He remembers visiting Draco in the hospital, holding those long fingers beneath his own, and waiting.

He remembers how Draco woke up and refused to speak. He looked at Harry with withering, accusing eyes, and something in Harry's stomach had tightened. Guilt.

The next morning, Draco owled him an empty parchment, and it was only a month later that the hidden words finally crumpled underneath yet another spell: "I love you," it said. "I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. I have you." It went on and on in endless repetition, the elegant, pointed scrawl going straight off the page. Harry couldn't tell which was true and which wasn't; which was written first and which was written last. He didn't think he wanted to know.

==

Draco shivers, though Harry's back is warm and his breathing even. Harry never remarks on Draco's infrequent, silent breaks from their warfare, and neither of them mentions it. They don't look at each other, so it doesn't really happen. It's not real like this, is it.

In a minute, Draco will get up. He'll walk away slowly, waiting for Potter to move, which he won't. He's Potter, and he thinks this is all Draco deserves. Maybe he's right.

==

Harry feels so calm.

Draco fits snugly against his back, like he belongs there. This feels okay, though it shouldn't. It doesn't hurt until afterwards; Harry's heart is suspended, barely beating in his own chest. It's okay as long as Draco stays still like this. They can breathe the stilted winter air and wait it out.

Harry feels so calm.

==

Sometimes Draco thinks he's about to speak, but then Harry moves, and instead he gasps.

* * *

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

Sometimes he wants to save the world, the one he's staring at, the one in the distance, while Malfoy slumbers against his back, a hand cradling Harry's heart inconsciously.

From Hogwarts, from the gallery encircling the second and from the arch they are framed in right now, the world is just another sunset, and then another night, and then another sunshine. It's got no details, it's the idea of a land far, far away, one that Harry and Draco couldn't reach anyway.

Draco's hand curls around his robe, over the even, unperturbed beating of Harry's heart.

"Weren't you sleeping?"

Draco pressed himself closer.

"Are you thinking to run away again?" he asked, his voice still drowsy and unconnected, not fully awake.

"Yes," Harry answered, without moving, letting Draco enfold him. "But not there."

Re: :-"

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

wheeeesweeeeet
*heart*

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

I'm clearly fixating on pagan sacred feminine/man fusion thing rituals lately.

Re: :-"

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

Hey, don't those have sex in them...?

...maybe that's just Marysia's version :D

Re: :-"

[malafede.livejournal.com]

... most of the porn I've been writing last month starred a crazed version of the sacred feminine... in draco.

OKAY DON'T LAUGH SO WHAT.