Almost Willing

Harry gasped, his eyes snapping open. He didn't know where he was, he couldn't see, everything was black. A strangled cry escaped him as he tried to hold it back, and he clamped a hand tightly over his mouth. He wouldn't cry. No. He had been through all this before.

No more. Stop shaking he demanded, trying desperately to hear the stern voice over the shrieking and crying in his head. Please, please don't let this happen again.

Harry clamped his eyes shut unwilling to open them and finally see what he'd been seeing in his dreams for so long now.

"No more," he whispered. He jerked at the sudden sound of his voice, so shockingly loud and clear.

He was shaking unbearably, every shudder jarring his bones.

"Don't let them see me, don't let them...."

Who was he praying to?

If this was happening again who was going to help him? His heart sped up painfully as he struggled to clear his mind of Cedric's dead cold body clutched under his arm. No one had helped before, they couldn't.

He was alone again.

He was ready--. Slowly, bracingly, he opened his eyes-- the curtains of his four-poster came into focus before him.

Harry looked over to his left, at his bedside table. Moving almost in slow motion he reached for his glasses, and pushed them onto his sweating face.

The relief he should have felt, didn't wash over him. The shaking still didn't die away.

He pulled out of bed and went through the curtains; it was still so dark that he could hardly see.

Stumbling awkwardly to the bed next to his, he pulled open the curtains. Ron lay there sleeping deeply, breathing evenly, completely at rest. Harry couldn't trust this, how could everything be so quiet, so peaceful? He walked to the edge of the bed, unsure what he was trying to determine. He reached out and let his hand rest gently against Ron's shoulder without waking him up. The firmness and warmth seeping through his pajamas was enough to slow his shaking to a gentle trembling, but, it still wasn't enough for Harry. His heart was still thudding painfully against his chest and he was still having trouble breathing.

Checking that everyone in the dorm was alright one last time, he pulled his fathers old invisibility cloak out from under his bed and let himself out of the room as his head began to pound along with his heart.

He looked around the Gryffindor common room which was completely empty. There was work left out on some of the tables, and cards and exploding snaps left on the thick red carpet that the house elves had yet to clean. Harry didn't care though, he couldn't stay here anyway. The fire had already died out past embers, but the red bedecked room was still warm-- too warm for him to breathe properly. The whole room was charged with life, but he needed somewhere still and cold, where his heart would calm down, and he could relax.

He stepped out into the corridor causing the Fat Lady to stir slightly as he did, but covered by his father's invisibility cloak Harry didn't care.

The cool air of the corridor instantly made him feel a little bit better, but it also awakened him to the pain inching through his muscles and joints. Fortunately his pounding head was enough to distract him from that.

He walked aimlessly down the hall, lost in his thoughts, unsure if he was even being silent. How could Voldemort be so effective on him still, how did he give him nightmares each night? Deep inside he knew it was understandable but he just couldn't let it be. He couldn't let his... his 'fear' dominate him!

Harry cursed silently. He couldn't be afraid! With a sudden spurt of anger he slammed his fist against the hard stone wall listening to it echo down the corridor, he shouldn't even 'admit' it!

Silently he leaned against the cold wall and ripped the cloak off his face, still trying to steady his breathing.

Nothing about this was right.

How could there be someone as purely evil as him that the only thing that coursed through his body was absolute hatred for whatever he chose... why would his only purpose in life be to cause pain....

How was he possible?

Harry slid to the ground and sat there in utter silence. A sudden image of Sirius was thrown into his mind, and he clamped his eyes shut as his heart wrenched. He couldn't think about it, he couldn't.

Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe.

His godfather was always there, always lurking in the back of his mind, and that was enough. Harry knew that if he allowed Sirius to just come to the surface he would dominate him and Harry really didn't know how he would fight that... or if he would want to.

He sat there until his head began to heavily droop against his shoulder. Then suddenly something made him snap to attention.

There were footsteps echoing down the corridor, heavy, and quick, and uneven--Filch.

Whipping the hood back over his head he stood up. Filch was walking down the hall that Harry needed to turn into, but if he moved quickly, and silently he would be past before he had the chance to discover him.

Harry tried to move swiftly under his current daze, listening to his own footsteps, hoping they wouldn't be heard, but just as he turned the corner a figure hurtled into him.

Their faces banged painfully together. Harry, caught completely off guard tumbled onto his back as the other boy tripped on top of him.

He let out a heavy groan as a hand was clamped down hard on his mouth. It was a moment before the situation sank into his head.

Draco Malfoy was laying on top of him, staring down at his body in surprise-- the invisibility cloak!

Filch's suddenly quickened footsteps seemed to snap Malfoy to life. In an instant he seized Harry's arms and rolled over, pulling Harry on top of him.

"What--?"

Malfoy's hands were behind Harry and he yanked the hood over their heads just as Filch's boots shuffled around the corner-- oh.

Harry took a deep breath trying to stifle his confused breathing. The old black leather boots came to a stop an inch from where their heads were resting. His choice to hold his breath proved to be a huge mistake.

Filch stood above them for what seemed like forever. Before he had even moved an inch Harry's entire body was jerking violently, the air trying to force its way out of his lungs. He couldn't hold it for long. It was about to burst, and loudly.

Suddenly Malfoy began to shake almost as violently as Harry. What was wrong with him?

Was he laughing!?

Seeming to move in slow motion Filch finally began to walk away and Malfoy began to shake even harder.

Don't laugh, don't laugh. He chanted silently.

Harry finally clamped his hand over Malfoy's lips. His smile instantly vanished.

Harry couldn't take it any longer; he couldn't hold his breath this Long. He shoved his face deep into the neck of the other boy's cloak, and finally let it all out. Gasping deep into Malfoy's neck he suddenly felt a hand on the back of his head pushing him deeper into the fabric to muffle the noise.

The air finally began to seep into his lungs and he practically collapsed in exhaustion. He shut his eyes and turned his head to the side so he could breathe more evenly. He knew it was Malfoy, but for the first time since he'd woken up sweating and shaking he was starting to calm down... to relax. He wasn't aware of nestling his face deeply into a neck. He was only conscious of his feverish body cooling down, and the steady beat of a heart finally calming his own.

*

For not the first time since term had started Draco Malfoy had to leave his dorm in the cold hours of the night. It happened every year, nothing unusual, it just took a while for him to get used to sleeping in the cold dungeons. The common room and dorms were fairly warm in the day time, but at night he had to wonder how the other Slytherin's in his room slept so easily.

He kept his silk pajamas on, refusing to take them off before morning, and shrugged on a thick woolen cloak. He made his usual stop by the mirror before heading out. His straight silver hair was curling in around his face unusually, but above all he looked as stunning as usual.

He exited the common room into the even colder corridor, getting caught not a consideration for him. He just wanted to warm up.

He began to walk at a steady pace unconsciously wandering the pattern of his Monday time table, and rubbing the warmth into his arms as he walked. He was glad to be back here, glad to have the routine, and his dorm room, even if his friends were insufferable room mates, it was still better than being at home.

Draco didn't wonder at that, he had it much better at home, he new that. He had virtually everything he could ever desire. His parents made sure of that. That was the problem of course. He appreciated his father's money, but he could handle things on his own, he didn't need to be watched over like a fretful child. That was so far beneath him.

He came to a stop at the doors to the great hall suddenly aware of his rumbling stomach. Draco smirked, he sounded like Weasley. With a sigh he turned and swept around the corner, well who could blame the red head for stuffing himself at every chance he got. He had to stock up for the summer didn't he?

It was several more minutes before he drew to a stop in front of the painting. A large picture of a bowl of fruit set into a golden frame.

He needed some entertainment.

Reaching forward he tickled the large green pair. Instantly it began to chuckle and giggle. With a creek the picture flew open slapping against the wall.

Draco climbed in through the entrance, ignoring the high ceiling, and four long tables set out directly beneath their counterparts that lay in the great hall above them.

"Sir! Sir, what is you be needing?" Draco glanced down at the sound of the high voice.

"Don't speak to me with that insolent tone," he said coldly.

"I is sorry sir! I is sorry--."

"You're still doing it," he said flatly. The little house elf fell silent staring up at him with its ugly bulbous eyes. All house elves sounded the same, but what the hell.

"I need food." He glanced down at it. "Now," he snapped before it even had a chance to move.

The elf looked behind itself where a small group of elves was waiting silently, and several scurried off faster than it looked like their small legs could carry them.

Draco glared down cruelly at the waiting elves, relishing the way that they squirmed but wouldn't leave, still wanting to help.

Idiots, they deserved it.

The elves were back, carrying trays of food that steamed deliciously.

Draco raised a slender eyebrow, allowing a dangerous smile to slide across his face.

"You expect me to eat standing up?"

"This way sir!"

Three elves jumped before him, and led the way bowing and stumbling to a seat at the imitation Slytherin table.

Draco sat down.

"And take some extra blankets to my bed," he said to the small number of assembled elves. God he loved lording over them... not that they didn't enjoy it.

He wouldn't have admitted it but the food was delicious, he was hoping the steaming vegetables and mashed potatoes would warm him up, but after only a few minutes he started to feel slightly nauseous. Maybe eating this late wasn't a good idea.

He set down the fork gracefully and rose to his feet flipping up his cloak as a sudden chill ran through him.

Without saying another word he walked to the entrance, just before the picture shut behind him he heard an anxious;

"Come again if you is needing anything!"

...Pathetic.

Very faintly the skies outside the large windows were beginning to grow light. Draco was still shivering and wide awake; he was going to be exhausted during classes.

What was that noise? He pushed himself into the shadows listening intently. Crap. It was Filch; he was surprised that Mrs. Norris hadn't already slunk up to him where he stood.

It was time for bed.

Draco swept down the corridor, silent without even trying to be. After turning down two corridors, he paused to listen. At first there was nothing, and then the footsteps came shuffling toward him.

Damn.

Moving more quickly now he practically raced to the Slytherin dungeons, hearing Filch's quickened steps falling further and further behind him.

Down the staircase, turning left, past the statue of Olga the Great, turn right--.

"Oomph!"

Draco swung his arms out wildly and for almost the first time he could remember lacking grace he fell flat on his face.

Disgust immediately ran through him as he saw who it was. Trust only Harry Potter to run into him like a blind oaf.

Draco was on the verge of pushing himself up when two things happened.

Potter squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out a loud moan. Almost out of instinct Draco slapped a hand over his mouth, and a few inches off him he finally noticed; potter had no body.

Draco stared. But he could feel it! He could feel his firm body shaking beneath him as though he was cold, but not quite. He could feel the fabric-- the fabric.

It was an invisibility cloak! He had known about it before how could he have forgotten?

Suddenly the sound of Filch's footsteps brought him back to life. He needed to get covered, and quickly. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had Potter by the arms and was rolling over, pulling Potter's warm weight on top of him. Potter's confused expression only increased as Draco put his hands behind his head reaching for the hood.

"What--?" He finally clued in to what was happening and thankfully fell silent there.

Draco glanced down making sure that they were completely covered. There would be nothing worse than a seeming decapitated foot lying in the hall for Filch to notice. As far as he could tell nothing was exposed.

He tried to listen for Filch's approaching footsteps that had followed him around the school, but could barely hear whether he was getting any closer. Damn it, it was Potter. Why was he breathing so raggedly? And why was his heart.... Draco could both hear and feel his heart pounding against his chest so erratically, that the thought suddenly formed that Potter was going to have a heart attack and die right on top of him.

What had happened to him?

Suddenly Potter drew a deep wheezing breath... and stopped breathing.

At that instant Filch's feet drew around the corner. Draco became very still, panic on the verge of erupting as the black leather boots came to a stop two inches from his nose.

He couldn't help it, he squeezed his eyes shut. His heart speeding almost to the rate of Potter's as he lay there hoping he wouldn't be seen or heard.

Oh, God. Harry was going die lying right on top of him. In a few more seconds his heart would come to a stop, he hadn't breathed in almost a minute! Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Suddenly Harry began to jerk. Oh great, now he was having a seizure-- no Wait--.

Draco turned his head to look at Harry's which was hovering next to his. He was holding his breath!

The relief that ran through him was so strong that he couldn't hold it back, he had to laugh.

Harry froze, even his jerking momentarily stopped. He lifted his head slowly to look at Draco, his face an unusual shade of red which made Draco laugh even harder, and have to work harder to stifle it. Then suddenly Harry had his hands clamped down over Draco's lips.

His smile was gone instantly. How dare he touch him like that?

Draco was on the verge of slapping his hand away despite how loud the noise was, but Potter finally blew.

He slammed his face deep into the collar of his newly washed cloak, and a burning heat washed over Draco's neck, oddly enough making him shiver. He squeezed his eyes shut as the heat burned over him, slowly spreading further and further up his neck, down his chest. Harry's face pressed in even closer to his shoulder making it even hotter, and causing him to sigh unintentionally.

Oh god, he wanted that all over. He'd almost forgotten what heat felt like.

Barely aware of what he was doing, he arched deeply into Harry struggling to get his infectious heat all over his body. Harry turned his head and pushed into Draco's neck with a soft sigh that made

Draco's heart suddenly thunder against his chest. Filch. He looked up to where Filch had last been standing, but the hall was empty.

Again with a will of its own his body was moving. This time it was his hands.

He realized that he had a hand at the back of Potter's neck, holding him closer; the other was sliding around his waist. The thin pajamas couldn't hide how firm Harry was. And god, that feverish heat was all over him. He gasped quietly as he pressed his hips against him, delicious thrills of heat running up and down his body and... And Draco chose that moment to finally wake up.

WHAT WAS HE DOING? As if snapping awake he jerked. This was Harry Potter! He should shove him off, start sneering and taunting, not--definitely not get turned on!

He put his hands up and pushed him. Potter moaned softly, but otherwise didn't move. Draco turned and looked at him....

He was sleeping!

"Potter," he whispered.

He didn't stir.

"Potter." With an impatient sigh he shook him. Potter's deep green eyes suddenly flew open. His fingers closed painfully tightly over Draco's arms as his head snapped up.

"Where--," Harry's voice died in his throat. He looked down at Draco his heart now as erratic as it had been when Draco had fallen on him. He lifted his head and looked slowly around the empty hall, realization and dread settling into his eyes before he squeezed them shut, and sagged back against Draco, gasping to settle his uneven breathing.

"Get off," Draco said, but his voice lacked so much conviction that it was more of a request then anything else.

Harry lifted his head looking confused.

He had to seize the opportunity, Potter hadn't noticed yet. "Get off," he repeated, this time with more strength.

Harry immediately moved to do that, but then suddenly stiffened for the second time. He looked at Draco in confusion then down to where their hips were pressed tightly together.

His eyes grew wide.

"Get off!" With a grimace he shoved Potter off of him, ignoring how his stomach tightened uncomfortably.

Potter lifted himself half off the ground and glared viciously up at him. "I was about to," he said.

"Really?" Draco asked. "It didn't sound like that when you were snoring." He rose to his feet brushing off his cloak and looked down at Harry whose cheeks were burning.

"I didn't snore."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't," he insisted.

Draco shrugged. "You were sleeping," he said, trying to look more at ease then he felt, "that's what I was trying to do before you chose to fall on me."

"You fell on me!" he said, jumping to his feet.

"I did not fall," Draco said hotly shoving him back against the wall, "you tripped me," he said.

Harry pushed himself off the wall, seething. For a second his eyes flickered down to Draco's hips and he flushed even deeper.

"You didn't seem to mind did you?"

Draco felt the blood drain out of his face.

"Shut up," he spat, for lack of anything better to say.

Harry stared. "You really..." he looked down at himself, then back up at Draco. "Are you serious?" he spluttered.

"Shut the fuck up Potter," he said quietly. He didn't think he could raise his voice any louder, but it still managed sound threatening.

To his surprise Harry didn't reply. Instead he just bent down to retrieve his fallen invisibility cloak. He looked at Draco, his eyes wide, then slid the cloak around his shoulders, his eyes lowered to the ground as though considering.

"Okay," he said suddenly. "I am completely willing and eager to forget this entire thing ever happened--." Draco opened his mouth to talk. "No," Harry continued, "don't bother; I'm not asking your opinion. I'm just letting you know that by the time I walk away, I will have completely forgotten all events of this night, before any of it has the chance to permanently scar me for life. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm a little tired."

He turned around and began to walk away humming a tune, his head vanishing as he pulled the cloak's hood over his shoulders.

Draco stared. That tune sounded a little too cheery.

He shut his eyes tightly and leaned heavily against the wall. He felt ill all over again, and this time it wasn't just because of his stomach.

How could he lose control like that? He couldn't remember ever losing grip before. Then again, how often did he have people lying on top of him, completely vulnerable, open to every move he made even if they didn't respond?

With a moan he pressed his face into his hands; he could feel by the fire in his face how much he was blushing. But this wasn't just anyone, this was... a boy... this was Harry Potter! This was the person he'd been competing with since his first train ride to Hogwarts. This was the person he'd spent the past five years taunting and laughing at no matter what he'd done. This was Harry Potter! He had never even thought of him like that before!

Still, you've never been quite 'that' close to him before, replied a voice from the back of his mind.

Oh god, if his Father knew! If he knew how they had been lying, how Draco had gasped in pleasure.... His stomach lurched. How Harry had taunted him, and the worst part... how he had been unable to defend himself.

He'd practically confessed!

Draco felt the dread growing in the pit of his stomach and took several steadying breaths before finally lifting his head. His father 'didn't' know. Right now the only other person who did know was Potter. He would just have to make sure that was how it stayed.

He pushed it out of his mind with absolutely anything he could manage, and deciding to pull a 'Potter' went off to bed humming a cheery tune.