Only Seconds to Go...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Contest #4 Challenge #4. Harry and Draco are in a secret relationship. They trade insults in Diagon Alley, then meet up later for a quick shag in a room in the Leaky Cauldron.


Only Seconds to Go…


The room is small and cold when the two figures meet. A shaft of moonlight drifts through a window, providing enough illumination for sight. No words are spoken, in this actions speak louder. There is a reverent meeting of lips, gentle at first; savoring, like one does water after a drought. Then they become greedier, rougher, and more desperate in their need of the other. Tongues clash, teeth clang, and lips fuse. And then a tidal wave of desire and want engulfs the two. Hands, once threaded through hair and clenched in robes, begin pulling and ripping at clothes in a rush to feel flesh.

Breathing becomes necessary and their mouths pull apart, only to latch on to some other piece of revealed skin. A fight for control briefly ensues, until one backs down, knowing in the end, both will be victors.

There is no finesse, not form or style when the two join. This isn’t about tenderness or slowness. It’s hard and fast fucking, so primal in need, desire, and want; mate. Sweat glistens on skin, only to be licked clean. In a tangle of joining hips, lips, teeth, tongues, arms, cocks, legs, hands, moans, bodies, the two strive for completion; yearn for their peak.

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Harry woke up and abruptly bolted up right in bed. He was breathing deeply and a light sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. He recalled the scenes for his dream and found he had quite the prominent problem.

Groaning, he quietly got up so as not to disturb Ron. It was the summer and Harry was currently at the Burrow. Thankfully, he’d spent the requisite amount of time at the Dursley’s, so his summer was free from them. Harry took a shower, trying to be quiet while he…fixed…his problem. From there, he walked outside and sat under a large tree.

Harry looked up and the stars in the sky, trying to pick out the different clusters and constellations. His eyes flitted over the more obvious ones: the Big Dipper, the North Star; as well as others: Orion, Leo, Draco, Sirius…Harry closed his eyes against the sting that one brought.

He mentally changed the subject, thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow he would turn seventeen. And he would turn seventeen with the Weasley’s, with people who loved his; who wouldn’t ignore the day like the Dursley’s did. It was a nice change.

For a fleeting moment, Harry let a bubble of excitement and hope rise inside of him that he would get what he really wanted, but then he ruthlessly popped it with a reality check. Reality would always intrude at the most inopportune of times. There were so many factors of why Harry couldn’t be happy. There was Voldemort, his friends, his family; Harry couldn’t think of himself and what he wanted…yet.

Harry only got up from his spot when the sun started to rise. He watched as the sun’s light chased away the darkness, driving away the shadows. He stood for a long moment, basking in the first touches of its warmth, and couldn’t help, once again, feeling hopeful.

Harry trudged up to the house that constantly looked ready to collapse, but somehow didn’t. It felt homey. He went into the kitchen only to find the others already up and eating. Ron had a large plate full of sausage, eggs, toast, and bacon. Ginny had the same, only to a lesser extent. The twins were home, visiting, and their plates were piled higher than Ron’s.

“Harry, dear, there you are. Come, sit down and have some breakfast. That’s a good lad. You’re entirely too skinny. Honestly, don’t those muggles ever feed you?”

It seemed to be Molly Weasley’s mission in life to smother/mother Harry, and to feed him. So, he sat down and ate, although, not nearly enough for Mrs. Weasley’s tastes.

“Today we’ll go to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies. The lists came and it’d be a good idea to go early to avoid the crowd.”

With the day planned, everyone finished eating and completing his or her morning duties. Then the family, and Harry, stood in front of the fireplace to Floo to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley stood next to Harry, constantly reminding him of the necessity to speak clearly. Never mind that Harry has traveled by Floo countless times.

“We don’t want a repeat of that first time, do we dear?”

Harry hid his smile and answered, “No ma’am.” It was sometimes nice to be mothered. He stepped into the fireplace, closed his eyes and called out his destination.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron, coughing and his eyes stinging. No matter how often he’d travel by Floo, he’d never get used to it.

“Harry!” A pair of strong, feminine arms wrapped around Harry, causing him to back up a step or risk falling.

“Hi, Hermione.”

“’Mione.” Hermione was whisked from Harry’s arms and passed around from Weasley to Weasley, laughing the entire time.

“Come along everyone let’s buy your school supplies.” Mrs. Weasley herded Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry out of the pub and through into Diagon Alley. The twins stayed behind, talking with Tom and a freaky looking guy who may have been a vampire.

Their first stop was Gringotts so Harry could pick up some money and Hermione could convert hers. Inside, while Mrs. Weasley was talking with a goblin, teens waited slightly apart. Hermione and Ginny were talking with Ron and Harry was looking around. It was then that Harry recognized the tall blonde woman standing down the counter from Mrs. Weasley.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Scarhead and his posse.”

Harry turned and came face to face with Draco Malfoy. He looked a little different than the last time Harry saw him a month ago. For one, Draco’s hair was longer, just to his shoulders. It was slicked back still, but a few strands were loose and flying around his face.

He was taller too, almost as tall as Ron. And most importantly, he wasn’t wearing a school uniform. Instead, he was wearing crisp black pants and a teal, button down shirt, with the first few buttons undone. The sight of Malfoy had his heart pounding harder and his blood heating.

“So, decided to crawl out from under that rock?” Ginny was the one who broke Harry’s trance at seeing the blonde.

“Ginny, I don’t think that would insult Malfoy, he is a Slytherin after all. Snakes are their thing.” Harry didn’t look at Ginny when he spoke, instead all his attention was on Malfoy. His hands were by his side, and they were itching to get a hold of Malfoy.

Draco flicked a bored gaze towards Ginny, then looked to Harry, his stormy gray eyes searing into him.

“True.”

“What do you want Malfoy?” Ron spoke up, his face red with anger.

“I? Everything. However, I have the means, and more importantly, the funds to get them. What about you?”

Ron started sputtering, too angry to speak. His temper, once again, got the better of him. Hermione spoke on her friend’s behalf.

“Money and material possessions aren’t everything. Ron is far richer than you will ever be, Malfoy.”

Draco crossed his arms, clearly indicating how very unimpressed he was. One elegant eyebrow lifted and he shook the few tendrils of hair from his face. His eyes were now on Hermione, sparking maliciously.

“And pray tell, who in the world, could Weasley, wearing hand-me-down, frayed robes, and using second hand books, possibly be richer than me? I have the finest things money can buy.”

Hermione smiled in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Snape when he was about to deduct points from Gryffindor.

“Because, Malfoy. Ron has friends and family who love and respect him. He has people he can turn to in his times of need. And his family has happiness, compassion, and honor. All those are things money can never buy, and they’re things a Malfoy will never have.”

For a second, the fire that lit Draco’s eyes seemed to go out, only to be replaced by hurt and sadness. Harry saw the mask fall, and he almost stepped up to stop the insults. But then it was back.

“If it was a choice of power and money, and the Weasley’s the former would beat the latter.”

“Harry chose Ron over you, Malfoy. What does that really say? You’re jealous because deep down, you know Ron has something you don’t. He has Harry’s friendship. And you, what do you have Malfoy? Respect? The wizarding world laughs at your name, equating it with the Dark Lord. Money? Money can’t buy the truly important and
fulfilling things in life. So in the end, who’s the better Malfoy? You or Ron?”

Hermione finished talking and had a very satisfied look on her face. Ron was looking at Hermione with pure adoration in eyes before he turned back to Draco with a superior look. He seemed to have found his tongue again and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him too it.

“Leave it Ron, I think Hermione made her point. There’s really nothing worth adding.”

“He’s really not worth it, Ron.” Ginny spoke up, moving to stand closer to Harry. Draco glanced sharply at the girl, but Ginny didn’t notice as she was staring up at Harry.

Ron shot one last glare at Malfoy and probably would have stuck out his tongue, but he thought better of it. Instead he decided to go for one last parting shot.

“Give your father our regards in Azkaban. Of course, being a Malfoy, and as rich and important as he is, he’d probably have a room with a view. Only the best, except money won’t be able to buy your father’s way out of this one.”

Unfortunately for Ron, his mother was walking towards them and heard the comment. She came thundering down on Ron in all her righteous glory.

“Ronald Weasley! I am very disappointed in you. Making fun of a boy who’s lost his father. How would you feel if it was you?”

Ron looked properly chastised, but couldn’t help but defend himself.

“But he taunts Harry about it all the time.” Really, this wasn’t the smartest thing Ron could tell his mother.

“Tat is not excuse for doing it in turn. Two wrongs do not make a right.” Then she turned to Malfoy, and like any mother intent on protecting a child she believes needs it, Mrs. Weasley tried to console Malfoy. And in the vast ability to forgive only mothers have for a child who’s been hurt, all wrongs and slights against her actual son, Mrs. Weasley forgave.

“Are you alright, dear? Just ignore Ron, sometimes his mouth works before his brain.”

Harry watched the scene and was pleasantly amused at Malloy’s expression. It appeared he was torn at being shocked, amused, or appalled at the being the sole attention of a ‘mother bear’ gone into protective mode. It was comical, and if Harry weren’t sure he’d be hexed by at least three other people, he’d have laughed. However, Malfoy being whom he was quickly recovered his equilibrium.

“Thank you. I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley. I appreciate your concern.” Seeing the spark in the Slytherin’s eyes, Harry decided that Draco settled on wary amusement at the situation.

“It’s not problem, dear. Are you here by yourself?”

Mrs. Weasley was actually patting Draco’s shoulder, but he was taking it all in stride. The others were shocked, angry or incredulous to varying degrees. Ron, by far, was the angriest, and if there weren’t so many people, he probably would have actually yelled at his own mother.

“No, ma’am, my mother is here.”

“Alright, dear. Why don’t you go back and join her?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Draco left, a little shocked, but mostly amused. He even managed not to smirk at Ron. He walked past Harry, close enough to touch.

“Such a well mannered young man; which is more than I can say for some.” At this, Mrs. Weasley looked pointedly at her son.

Ron was mostly quiet during the trip, only the few mutterings of, “…can’t believe it.” and, “…just like his father,” and “my own mother.”

“I noticed you were particularly quiet towards Malfoy.”

Harry looked over at Hermione and smiled and shrugged.

“You said pretty much everything. I didn’t see the need to add.”

Hermione gave him a calculating look, reminding Harry of why she was the smartest witch in the school.

“You know, it seems to me that you’ve not been arguing or insulting Draco Malfoy as much. And when you do, it’s not as…mean or hurtful, or as involved. And I’d say that you were actually on the verge of defending him today.”

Harry managed to hide the smile that threatened to show.

“I’ve had more important things on my mind than keeping up a childish rivalry with Malfoy. It takes up more time and energy than I’m willing to spend.”

“Harry Potter, I do believe you’re going up. I’m proud of you.”

After that, the group went to buy their school supplies, and a few other accessories for fun. Mrs. Weasley left to take Ginny shopping for new school robes, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione alone. As soon as his mother was out of earshot, Ron rounded on Harry and Hermione and started about the injustices of the world.

“Can you believe my own mother comforted Malfoy? She’s turned on me.”

“Well Ron, you were acting childish.”

“Me? What about you, Hermione? All those things you said-”

“Were the truth. You were going for the cheap shot. You need to grow up. If you hadn’t noticed, Harry wasn’t insulting Malfoy.”

Ron whirled on Harry, staring at him as if he’d just heard Harry say the Chudley Canons sucked.

“Hey, he didn’t insult me. It gets old Ron. Lucius has been in Azkaban for over a year. Besides, I’m not about to make up of someone who’s lost his father. I happen to know what it’s like, as I’ve lost two. It’s unfair.”

“But Malfoy-”

“Didn’t understand when we were younger. Now he does. He doesn’t tease about my parents anymore. Anyway, don’t you think we’ve bigger things to worry about than your obsessive need to insult Draco? Like Voldemort?”

As soon as Harry said Draco’s name, he realized his mistake, and to keep Ron from noticing, Harry quickly spoke out another name. Hermione was another matter entirely, and her eyes narrowed at the slip.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly with no more arguments about Malfoy. Talks were regulated to safer topics; like school, quidditch and Harry’s seventeenth birthday. All the while, Harry kept slipping his hand in his pocket, fingering the slip of paper and key Draco had given him in Gringotts.

A/N I had this up before, but I took it down. So, here it is again. I hope you enjoy.