The Erotic Adventures of Potter And Malfoy

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To all my loyal readers,

I so sorry for the wait between chapters 10 and 11. I guess I was just trying to accurately climb into Malfoy\'s rather large and complex shoes and wander around for a bit.... I hope you like it anyway. With pride, I introduce...

.... The (allegedly) long-awaited Chapter 11 of The Erotic Adventures

- Keshu

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Chapter 11

Draco ran. His feet pounded on the hard Hogwarts stone floor as he threaded his way quickly through surprised students, up staircases and along corridors, with Harry running after him, searching frantically through the crowd for that telltale flash of silver-blonde. Ron, catching sight of first Draco and then Harry running down the second floor corridor, and using his head, dashed up to the Gryffindor dormitory and pulled Harry’s trunk open, watching the little dots marked “Draco Malfoy” and “Harry Potter” speeding around the Hogwarts floors.

Harry paused and clutched at the wall as he fought for breath. He hadn’t seen Draco at all, aside from one fleeting glimpse of his hair before he had vanished. Wiping furious tears from his eyes, he began to search through the corridors once more.

Draco erupted from the top of the narrowly spiralling staircase to the West Tower, tripped over a dip in the stone and crashed to the floor. For a moment he didn’t move, but lay there with his head in his arms, his blonde locks messy, his knee bleeding through his trousers where he’d caught it on the rock and his ragged breathing the only sound in the gathering gloom of night. Then, hearing faint footsteps coming closer, growing louder, he raised himself slowly and ran to the battlements, where he propped himself up and watched the shadowy entrance with trepidation.

However, it was not Harry’s unkempt black mop of hair that emerged, but Ron Wesley’s almost offensive brightness. Draco frowned and backed away slightly from Ron, running a weary hand over his face.
“What do you want, Weasley?” he asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice normal. He was too tired to even sneer.
“I don’t really want to argue with you, Malfoy. Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re an utter cock, but Harry loves you.” Ron paused, waiting for Malfoy to reply, but the thin figure in front of him just hung his head, his eyes downcast. “I don’t want to see him hurt, Malfoy, do you understand me? Don’t hurt him again. I can’t promise I’ll be able to refrain from hurting you more if you do.”

Again, Malfoy refused to answer, and Ron glared at him, taking his silence for assent. He turned abruptly, and walked down the spiral staircase again, glancing back at Malfoy, who had his face hidden behind his hair. Ron sighed to himself and shook his head, before turning back towards the Gryffindor common room and his four-poster.

As he walked into the circular room with its five four-poster beds, all hung with vibrant scarlet drapes, he heard the muffled sound of crying, and hurried over to Harry’s bed, to find him crumpled up at the end of it, starkly pald thd thin against the opulent velvet, sobbing as if his heart had broken. Well, thought Ron, it probably had.
“Harry…” he said softly, putting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “Harry, please, stop doing this to yourself.”
“Ron, I can’t find him.” Harry muttered, resting his head on his upper arm. “He’s gone, and I can’t find him, and I don’t know what to do. Have you seen h
“H
“Harry, listen to me…”
“No! Have you seen him?” Harry repeated, yelling now, tears rolling down his high cheekbones. He made as if to get up off the bed and Ron seized him by the shoulders and pushed him back down, surprised at how easy it was to hold down this once Quidditch-hardened young man.
“Lie still, Harry. You’ll only hurt yourself. I want to talk to you first. I know where he is, and if you let me just talk – ” Ron had to slam Harry’s shoulders back down again, “ – to you, then I’ll tell you.” Harry laid still at last, looking up at Ron through tear filled eyes.
“Please, god, please just tell me where he is. I’m terrified, Ron. I’m terrified he’ll do something stupid.”
“Harry, just shut up a sec…. What I wanted to say… I’m really sorry about being an arse about Malfoy. It’s blatant that you’re so in love with him… I should have supported you, I’m so sorry, Harry,” Ron said, his voice low and loaded with sincerity before he embraced the Gryffindor.
“Ron, really, please, don’t worry about it. You’re still the greatest friend I ever had, and I forgive you and all that…but please tell me where Draco is.”
“Top of West Tower. Used the Map. It’s lucky I keep my head in a crisis,” Ron said, grinning, removing his hands from Harry, who was up and running out of the room in a flash.

Draco lay on his back, looking up at the rapidly darkening night sky, the faint light of the dying sun hitting the dark stone of the castle and making it almost glow. The stars were beginning to show up, and a light breeze lifted his hair, and to his own surprise he felt almost peaceful, a bittersweet taste when contrasted with the immense misery that gripped him inside. He shut his eyes and sighed, stretching his stiff joints.

When he opened his eyes again, he got the fright of his life, for standing above him, faint stars glinting around his hair, stood Harry, the intense green of his eyes barely visible in the dark. Neither said anything for a good minute, just stared at each other, before Harry’s eyes filled with tears once again.
“What’s going to happen to us, Draco?” he asked quietly, keeping his beautiful eyes hidden and withdrawing to the shadows against the rugged crenellations.
“Us? Why, Potter, there is no us,” Draco replied, sitting up. Harry’s face contorted in pain and he buried his face in his hands.
“Draco… please, don’t do this to me,” he almost whimpered, breathing heavily, his voice muffled. Tears rose in Draco’s eyes at seeing Harry like this, but he pushed them back, summoned centuries worth of Malfoy pride and cruelty, and grit his teeth.
“I’m not doing anything to you at all. It is entirely your own fault that you are in this situation,” Draco stated coldly, lifting a hand to inspect his fingernails, as if bored “You let yourself be taken it. I wont deny that it didn’t amuse me, that it didn’t pleasure me.”
“You – you never loved me?” Harry asked, his tone disbelieving, tears running down his face as he lifted his head. He crawled forward, and pushed Draco’s hair away from his eyes with thin hands, trying to see into the stormy grey for any hint of whether this was a lie Draco was speaking, or whether it was the painful truth. Draco pushed him away roughly, before he could see the barely concealed pain and love in his eyes, before he cracked. Harry fell hard against the stone, the breath being knocked out of his body, his eyes closing in defeat.
“Why?” he asked simply, crying openly now. “Why, Draco, why are you doing this to me? You said on the tower that you loved me that it hurt you to feel cut off from me. I don’t believe you.”

More than anything, Draco wanted to go over and put his arms around Harry, to comfort him and cry all the hurt out of their bodies. He very nearly broke down himself when he saw Harry lift a hand and press it to his shoulder, bowing his head in grief, so that his almost long black hair fell over his face. He took a deep breath, and it took all of his willpower to force it to come out as a patronising sigh, rather than the sob he longed to release.
“Potter, I’m a Malfoy. We don’t fall in love. Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s rather pitiful, you know.” At this, Harry pulled himself off the floor, and faced him, his eyes livid with anger and pain, glinting at him through the twilight.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Malfoy,\" he hissed at him, tears still running freely down his cheeks, “but you weren’t lying on that tower. Look at you! You’ve been hurting just like I have. And I can’t believe you’d be so cruel as to do this to me. I love you, Draco, you fucking know that…”

For a moment it looked as though he was going to continue his furious diatribe, but words failed him, and stifling a sob, he dashed from the tower, his robes flying out behind him. Draco waited for a minute, checked to make sure he was really gone and sank down to the ground on the spot where Harry had lain, letting his tears flow free at last. A few of Harry’s teardrops still wet the dry stone, and Draco rubbed his fingers over them, his own heart feeling like lead at the pain he had caused Harry. Draco pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, sobs wracking his thin chest. He closed his eyes, laid his head down on his arms and cried as if he might never stop, feeling the tears slide between his long lashes and wetting the sleeve of his robes.

Draco had barely closed his eyes when Harry came storming back up the stone staircase. He stalked over to Draco and knelt down beside him.
“You’re lying, you bastard, I know you are,” he growled, and pressed Draco’s shoulders up against the brickwork, kissing him harshly. Draco growled and slapped him away.
“Potter,” he snarled, getting hurriedly to his feet and wiping the tears from his eyes surrepouslously on his robes, \"Never try that again. Do you want me to prove to you that I’m not lying?”
“Prove it then, Draco, prove it if you can.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Draco pulled out his wand, taking deep calming breaths to stop his hand trembling. Harry’s eyes narrowed in comprehension, but he didn’t pull out his own wand.
“You want to duel?” he asked incredulously. “Draco, I’m not going to fight you.”
“Don’t call me Draco, Potter,” Malfoy sneered. “And I’d recommend you arm yourself. You told me to prove it to you, and I fully intend to.”

Harry looked at him for a moment and pulled out his wand, looking at it as if lost in thought. Draco made an impatient noise, and Harry snapped out of his trance, and then laid his wand down at the edge of the tower.
“I wont fight you, Draco,” he said quietly.
“Fine,” Draco snapped tersely.

He pointed his wand at Harry, who closed his eyes and turned his head, as if waiting for Draco’s spell to hit him. Time seemed to slow down for them both, and all of a sudden the sounds of the wind through the trees in the Forbidden Forest and the quiet lapping of the lake sounded a lot clearer in Draco’s ears. He felt his breath hiss out of his lungs.
\"Crucio,\" Draco whispered, closing his own eyes as well.

The strength of Harry’s screams of pain forced him to open his eyes again, and he cast Silencing Charms around the tower, so nobody heard them. Harry was rolling madly on the floor, clutching at the scar on his forehead, crying and crying out time and again in sheer pain, tears of agony rolling freely down his cheeks. His voice broke and he was reduced to deep rasping breaths, clutching and clawing at himself. Draco did not lift his wand, and Harry began to jerk more violently, whimpering now.

At last Draco lifted his wand, and Harry’s sounds of pain subsided. The top of the tower was silent aside from his gasps. He did not move, except for the faint trembling in his legs and arms and suddenly the sound of his breathing was a lot quieter, and then Draco was straining to hear him. His wand dropped from his hand, as horror overwhelmed him and he leapt forward and knelt down beside the unmoving Harry’s side, picking up his wrist and checking it for a pulse.

“Harry, wake up,” he urged, shaking Harry’s shoulders now, shaking him so hard that the limp, raven-haired boy was almost lifted off the ground, despite Draco’s weakness. “Please…god, please wake up.” Harry did not move, nor did he open his eyes, and Draco scrabbled hurriedly for his wand, and pointed it at Harry.

\"Ennervate!\" he cried, pointing it at Harry. There was no effect. He did it again, and again, screaming the incantation louder, almost manically, until his voice gave out too, and his screams faded. “Harry…” he said once more, before large tears started to course down his cheeks. He lifted Harry’s coal-lashed eyelid gently, and watched the pupil, but it gave no response. Draco stood up and cried out as loudly as he could for help, his throat aching badly, forgetting about the Silencing Charms, panicking and desperate, and then he dropped down beside his love again, cradling his limp form in his arms and rocking him backwards and forwards and sobbingshlyshly.