The Labyrinth

Warnings: Angst,Crossover,H/C,Language,M/M (later is now HERE! Well, not THIS exact chapter), OOC-ness only to the extent that it fits the movie and plot (except now that the "movie" is over, hopefully there won't be any more OOC-ness)

Author's note--The title is the same as the DVD. Even though the content is decidedly NOT!!!

The lines in the movie obviously do NOT correspond to this chapter, and there is one more "movie equivalent" chapter before the movie's end credits, but that's not until Chapter 20. Then the "movie" will be well and truly over, and the rest will be just pure Harry/Draco goodness! (and dealing with my little plot that is outside of the movie itself.)

Anyway, enjoy!

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The Labyrinth

Back Home

“Potter? Potter? C’mon, Potter, wake up! What the hell happened to you? Wake up, damn you! They’re going to think I killed you or attacked you!”

Harry heard Draco’s voice, but it sounded like it was at the end of a long tunnel at first. His voice grew louder and closer.

“Hey, I don’t want to be blamed for something unless I actually did it! You had better wake up right now so I can hex you if I’m going to get in trouble for it! Potter! Potter, I swear, you’re doing this just to vex me! Potter? Um—oh fuck—Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Harry? Oh, thank Merlin!”

Harry opened his eyes to find Draco Malfoy kneeling beside him, leaning over his prone form, grey eyes widening with worry. He blinked a few times, his eyes darting around as he took stock of his situation. They were in the bathroom, and Harry was laying on the floor. Draco’s face had gone from immensely worried to utterly relieved to livid in the space of about two seconds, and when Harry looked back at his favorite rival, the blonde’s face was pinched in anger.

“You stupid Gryffindor! I swear, I don’t know how you survive from day to day! Especially YOU! The Boy Who Lived has got to be THE clumsiest Gryffindor—no, no, the clumsiest WIZARD in existence! I ought to hex you just for being mental! What the fuck are you smiling at, Potter?!”

Draco was pretty sure he knew what happened, but he had no idea why he reacted the way he did. After yelling at Draco and telling him to ‘get the fuck out of the dark’, the stupid git had extinguished his own wand just before leaving the bathroom and then promptly knocked himself unconscious when he ran into the doorframe! It would have been a spectacular exit that any Slytherin, especially Draco, would have admired…except that instead of the open and slam of the door, there had been a CRACK and then a THUMP. Draco had paused in reaching for his wand, wondering what on earth Potter had done, and then he had gotten it out and whispered Lumos to find Harry ‘the Boy Who Lived’ Potter passed out cold on the bathroom floor, with blood streaming from his nose!

Never in a million years would Draco have imagined, but his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Harry, vulnerable and bleeding. He immediately dragged the boy to the middle of the bathroom—out of the doorway—and grabbed Potter’s own wand, lighting it with Lumos instead so that he could use his own wand to staunch the bleeding and mend Potter’s nose. Draco sat back on his heels, admiring his handiwork. For a boy who had sneered at Healing Charms and disregarded them in favor of hexes, jinxes, and curses, healing Potter’s nose had been quite easy, and it looked damn good, if Draco did say so himself.

He patted himself on the back (mentally) for returning Potter’s nose to normal, and that’s when Draco really looked at the rest of the boy’s face. It was quite handsome, actually, when the prat wasn’t bumbling about, mucking everything up. Potter looked peaceful and innocent as he laid on the floor, and Draco’s eyes popped as the normal ‘killer’ instinct didn’t show up. Slytherins were trained to look for weakness, for vulnerability, and as soon as they saw it, to exploit it or to kill. The Savior of the Wizarding World was at Draco’s feet, and with just two little words, he could ensure Voldemort’s rule forever. It should have been so tempting. Or Draco could have Apparated them to the Dark Lord’s lair, thus reinforcing the Malfoy name as Voldemort’s most trusted. He knew what he should do…

And yet, just as Draco couldn’t bring himself to whisper the words to kill Albus Dumbledore, neither could he do anything to harm Harry Potter, and that thought in itself was sobering. NOT harm Potter? Harry looked so vulnerable, and Draco would have never thought of himself as the protective type, but instead of using that weakness against Harry, the blonde found himself yearning to protect that vulnerability, that innocence. And not just that…Draco wanted to take Harry in his arms and hold him; keeping him safe from the Death Eaters and fucking Voldemort; protecting him from himself when he did stupid things like running into a doorframe or botching an easy potion and making the entire classroom smell.

Draco had no idea how long he sat on the floor of the bathroom, musing about his favorite rival, but he suddenly realized that Harry probably should have woken up by now. Draco took up his wand and cast an ineffective Enervate. No result. He tried again. Still nothing. He looked up and around him, his mind whirling with possibilities. He could go get Snape or McGonagall—no, Snape was closer. But that would bring Granger and Weasley, and THEY would surely blame him for Harry being unconscious, even though Draco had nothing to do with it! He might be able to get Harry to the Hospital Wing; Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of him! Armed with a plan, Draco stood and prepared to Levitate Harry’s unconscious body when he froze. Class was over! The hallway grew noisy in a matter of seconds as students poured out of classrooms, and the noise drifted to Draco, who looked down at Harry in alarm. He shot a Locking Charm at the door so that no one could get into the bathroom. But now he was trapped! He would have to wait until the hallway cleared. Bugger all! He stepped over Harry and pressed his ear to the door until he couldn’t hear anything anymore. He was so intent on listening for noise outside that a noise behind him made him jump out of his skin, and he whirled around, ready to kill Potter for scaring him.

“Draco,” the sound of his first name crossing Potter’s lips gave him pause. The way he said it was so…plaintive…needy…erotic. He dropped to his knees beside the black-haired boy, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. His trousers tightened, but it didn’t unnerve Draco half as much as it should have. In his deepest, darkest dreams, Draco’s biggest fear was not necessarily rejection, but being unwanted, unneeded, and insignificant. He ruled Slytherin by force, by fear, but none in his house would be upset if he were gone.

He was a Malfoy, and that alone entitled him to respect, awe, and attention, until a black-haired, green-eyed, raised-by-Muggles-and-didn’t-know-any-bloody-better Harry Potter stumbled into Draco’s life, stealing the limelight. And the rejection! Oh, the fact that a know-nothing Potter would snub him in public—and for a Weasley—made Draco’s blood boil. After that, he did everything he could to make sure people knew who was the Malfoy, the pureblood, the superior, but the little scar-headed git outshone him without even trying! That had been a cruel blow to Draco’s ego; he realized that he couldn’t best Potter, so he did the next best thing: he made his life miserable. Except that the Mudblood kept whispering things like, “Just ignore him and he’ll go away” in Potter’s ear, and he listened!

As they got older, Harry stopped responding to Draco and just ignored him. Being invisible to the most visible wizard EVER was an intolerable place to be, and Draco reacted badly. He knew that his father was the Dark Lord’s servant, and that Draco would be expected to follow in his father’s shoes; embittered by his invisibility, Draco embraced Voldemort’s calling. To his delight, he found that the rumors that he had taken the Dark Mark seemed to awaken the fighting spirit within Potter, and they were off and at it again! He wore long sleeves everywhere, lest someone find out that he didn’t have it yet, and that would be enough to provoke Potter into a hissy fit.

Then Draco’s task was assigned. He was to kill Albus Dumbledore, his Headmaster. That’s when Draco realized that he was in over his head, even though he was a Malfoy. The pressure increased as Draco strove to remain cool and confident on the outside while he was panicking and falling apart on the inside. The only way, it seemed, to relieve that pressure was when he was squared off with a pair of smoldering emerald eyes. Then the pressure faded. His task was insignificant. Whenever he was near Harry Potter, Draco didn’t fear the Dark Lord’s wrath, or even his father’s. There was comfort in their spats, and Draco was in desperate need of comfort.

And then it was THE night. Draco had kept up his plans in secret, and he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, feeling a sense of regret and shame that nearly overwhelmed him. Draco loathed himself immensely at that point in time, but he had a job to do. He found Dumbledore on the roof, and he tried as hard as he could to be impassive, unaffected, and cold, like his father, but Draco just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill his Headmaster, and so he stalled. Then, when the Death Eaters who accompanied him had run out of patience, Snape appeared, and Snape did it. And then Snape had taken him to safety in Spinner’s End. Draco had waited in absolute apprehension until his godfather returned to tell Draco that the Dark Lord was content that the task was done, even if Draco hadn’t done it. Draco had breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t die right then and there, and then timidly inquired about the taking of the Dark Mark. Snape had also managed to convince Voldemort to wait until Draco had graduated from Hogwarts, just like the Dark Lord had waited for all of his other Death Eaters, and to Draco’s never-ending surprise, Voldemort had agreed to that as well.

The blonde had been allowed to remain at Spinner’s End for the rest of the summer. He feared his father’s reaction to his failure and decided that the less he saw of his parents, the better, even though he missed them. He hadn’t realized, then, that his parents were looking forward to this summer more than anything because Draco had turned seventeen. Their son didn’t come home; instead he went straight back to Hogwarts for his seventh year, and Lucius and Narcissa suffered without their son knowing. Yesterday had been the turning point of that little problem, and Draco’s dilemma came crashing back to him.

And then Potter’s voice, alive with need, jarred him back to the present, his problems once again forgotten as he focused on the black-haired boy. Any plans that Draco had made to take Potter anywhere emptied right out of Draco’s head, since Potter sounded like he wanted and needed Draco and only Draco. Thinking about Harry needing him was a major turn-on for the Slytherin, and his cock jumped in his pants. He took Harry’s hand in his; Merlin, were his hands ALWAYS this deliciously warm? Without thinking, he raised Harry’s hand to his mouth and brushed his lips tenderly over the tanned skin on the back of Harry’s hand. Harry sighed and shifted slightly but didn’t wake up. He seemed… comfortable , and Draco couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and ever so carefully brushed his lips to Harry’s. He had no idea the Gryffindor’s lips were that soft or felt that good! He wasn’t even sure it could be called a kiss, since Harry technically didn’t consent to it, but it made Draco’s head spin…and the infuriating git was unconscious!

That’s when he started to call Harry’s name, making sure to use his last name so that the boy wouldn’t know anything had changed in Draco’s heart. He could have sworn there was a difference in the movement of Harry’s eyelids, and he kept talking to him, hoping to bring him around. He had broken down and used Harry’s first name, and then he opened his eyes! Draco nearly fell over with relief, and then the anger came. It wasn’t anger like had been between them before; this anger was the kind that is felt when a loved one’s future is uncertain, and they did it to themselves, and when their safety becomes clear, you can’t help but be mad at them for putting themselves in that predicament in the first place.

He started ranting at Harry, breaking off when he saw a smile play out over the boy’s face. That was unbelievable! Harry was supposed to be sorry, apologetic, humble even, but he was most certainly NOT supposed to be smiling at Draco while Draco was in the middle of a tirade! Draco was working himself into a very indignant huff when Harry reached up and touched that pale cheek. Draco froze, his grey eyes giving an outlet to his uncertainty and insecurity. Why was Potter touching him like that? Harry didn’t know that Draco’s feelings had changed, so why was he—oh god! Harry gave his cheek a caress, and Draco’s eyes closed as he leaned involuntarily into that hand. No one had ever touched him like this before, and it took Draco’s breath away.

He felt Harry’s hand moving down to his jaw, and his breath shortened as Harry’s fingers played just below his earlobe, working their way to the back of his neck, where they twined in the pale blonde hair at the base of his skull. Draco was dizzy and off-balance, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just didn’t want it to stop. And then he felt a slight pressure on the back of his neck as Harry pulled Draco’s head down, raising up onto his other elbow.

Their lips met again, for the first time in reality where they were both conscious and choosing to do so, and it was the best kiss of their lives. Draco’s lips were tentative and hesitant at first, but Harry reassured him by pressing firmly, opening his mouth by instinct. Draco actually groaned into Harry’s mouth, and the sound shot straight to Harry’s pants. He gasped against the blonde’s, and then realized he could breathe through his nose as he proceeded to snog his favorite rival senseless. The kissing turned more and more sexual as Harry’s tongue darted out to lick the inside of Draco’s lips at some point. Draco had gone rigid and pulled back about an inch, unsure of what just happened. Harry raised his head and crushed their lips together again, sucking Draco’s bottom lip into his mouth and using his teeth ever so gently. This time, the blonde’s head dipped, following Harry and never breaking the kiss, as Harry put his head back down. Their erections were quite obvious, especially for Harry, since he was laying on his back.

Draco hadn’t dared to move from his position—kneeling beside Harry—until he felt one hand go to his hips and press towards the black-haired boy while Harry’s other hand hovered as if waiting for Draco to touch his side to Harry’s palm by shifting. Neither boy had any real experience with sex—Harry was limited to a handful of kisses with Ginny and a peck or two from Cho, but none of them were as intense as this. What Harry remembered best, and this was truer for Ginny than Cho, was not necessarily the skill or actual technique of the kiss, but the sheer intimacy that he felt during and after. It’s true that kissing can be innocent, and so can intimacy, but this was quickly making all of his experience up to now look chaste. While Harry used to feel shame for privately desiring someone sexually, right here, right now, with Draco on top of him, it just felt right, and there was no shame in that.

Draco had a bit more technical experience in the sex department than he ever would have admitted to Harry. Slytherin really was the more advanced, sexual experimentation house, and Draco had dabbled a little. His first kiss had been Marcus Flint, his Quidditch team captain, his third year at Hogwarts. Flint had been good, very good, but he was cold and unaffectionate. Draco learned quite early to compartmentalize sex and affection and intimacy, and while his experience in the area of sex grew, he could definitely be called a cold and callous partner, since he was taught not to be affectionate or intimate.

His most frequent snogging partner had always been Pansy Parkinson. She was probably the closest thing to a girlfriend, but Draco was loathe to label her as such since she could be downright annoying at times. She was a decent snog, though, and he had explored the territory of fingering with her—and she hand jobs with him—although while he had grown skillful at bringing her to an orgasm during an intense snogging session, she would never actually return the favor by rubbing him to completion. She made him tell her when he was close, and then she would let go and lay there, her hands running over her own breasts—she thought she was being sexy—while Draco groaned and replaced her hand with his own before he lost his orgasm. There was never any intimacy between them, however, just pure, raw touching to completion.

He had snogged Blaise a handful of times, but the black man was rather touchy about it all. While Draco was more or less comfortable with the notion of bisexuality, Blaise was absolutely not, and had even refused Draco once or twice just to prove that he wasn’t ‘that way’. It had hurt, but it only served to reinforce Draco’s notion that intimacy was not to be found near anything sexual, but he did feel a smug sense of satisfaction when Blaise would come up to his room, apologize profusely, and then want to snog a bit. If it ever turned arousing—which it didn’t, more often than not—but when it did, Blaise would high-tail it and run, so Draco had learned to kiss without arousing his partner, a very odd sensation indeed. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle met Draco’s minimum standard of ‘snog worthiness’, but he had kissed Theo Nott once and Daphne Greengrass, much to Pansy’s apparent dislike. In order to stay on the pug-faced girl’s good side, he had to promise never to kiss the other pureblood again, which Draco had agreed to willingly since Pansy was the easier lay.

But what he was doing with Harry in the bathroom was basically new territory for him. He had all kinds of underlying feelings and emotions that made him freeze up with fear of rejection at random points, but the black-haired boy continued to patiently coax the blonde. Draco had desires and things he wanted to do to Harry, but he didn’t dare until and unless Harry guided him into what Harry wanted, implicitly giving his permission. Case in point: their innocent kissing turned into making out when Harry slipped Draco the tongue, and then Harry not-so-subtly hinted that he wanted Draco to shift positions. He had followed Harry’s pushing hand, only to find himself straddling the other boy’s hips, their clothed erections barely touching. Draco snapped back into himself and gave an experimental thrust, gauging Harry’s reaction, and those wonderful green eyes had rolled into the back of Harry’s head as his body twitched, asking for more.

With one hand planted firmly on the ground on either side of Harry’s head for balance, Draco grew bolder, rocking his hips against Harry and then pausing to lean down and brush their lips together again. He was lost in the sensations of Harry that he didn’t even realize that the Gryffindor had opened Draco’s school robes, loosened his tie, untucked and unbuttoned his shirt until he felt those warm hands directly on his chest, and it was his turn to gasp in delight against Harry’s mouth. Harry’s hands roamed over his bare skin freely, creating tingling sensations down Draco’s spine with every soft caress. He groaned as Harry slipped his hands around to Draco’s back, running his palms up the length to the pale shoulders, only to make his hands into a claw position and dig his fingertips into Draco’s skin as he dragged down to the small of Draco’s back. He didn’t use his nails—although he felt that he probably inadvertently scratched Draco a little bit on accident—but it was more akin to the sensation of a massage, and Draco’s eyes rolled involuntarily at how good it felt, causing Harry to smile with pride.

Harry couldn’t quite believe how take-charge he was being, especially from the bottom, but he just couldn’t get enough of Draco and hadn’t experienced enough rejection to make him skittish about what he wanted. Draco wasn’t about to refuse Harry anything, though, and the idea that Draco ‘I do what I please’ Malfoy was consenting to their little fling was a powerful aphrodisiac for Harry. He was absorbed in his pale, blonde surroundings, unaware that Draco couldn’t have stopped even if he had wanted to. They just felt right together, and a hunger was born in each of them that only the other could sate. Gryffindor courage had its uses, and Harry pushed to the limit. Whenever he had a shy moment, though, Draco would step in and take the lead, giving Harry the confidence to continue.

The contrast between Harry’s hands against the skin of his upper body and their clothing providing delicious friction ‘down there’ was striking. Draco shivered every time Harry’s fingers ghosted over his belly button, following his nearly invisible blonde trail down to his belt. He unexpectedly caressed Draco’s hips over his pants with strong, sure hands that snaked around to grab the blonde’s perfect arse, and Draco had hissed his approval as he rutted against Harry, clenching his glute muscles under Harry’s Quidditch-strengthened hands and gazing fondly down at the green-eyed boy. He dipped his head, stilling his hips, to steal Harry’s mouth again, and this time, Harry began to thrust from under him! The boy’s hands at his hips encouraged him to continue rocking WHILE they snogged, and Draco could feel the pressure building. His shirt and tie were open but still on, and so Draco felt Harry’s school robes against random exposed places on his chest. In this slightly different position, their belt buckles clicked together every so often, but they ignored it. Harry’s hands suddenly began clutching at his body with a fervor he hadn’t shown before, and Draco idly wondered what the difference was until Harry turned his head to wantonly moan Draco’s name, sending a shudder down Draco’s spine—Merlin, but he loved it when Harry sounded so needy!—and then Draco realized with a shock that Harry was coming! He was sitting astride the great Harry Potter and making the boy come in his pants with little more than stimulation and kissing!

Draco’s own climax wasn’t quite ready yet, but hearing his name fall from those gorgeous lips made his hips speed up, and then he could feel it building. He pushed himself up and away from Harry’s chest as he frantically ground his cock against the boy beneath him, trying to bring himself to release before Harry got sick of laying on the ground and threw him off. He didn’t anticipate the look of pure, unadulterated love that flitted across Harry’s face as he looked at Draco for the first time after coming, and the sheer intimacy it implied made a blush creep into Draco’s cheeks. He felt Harry’s hand in between his painfully hard erection and Harry’s flagging one, giving Draco enough pressure to thrust against while even squeezing as best he could at random intervals! Draco’s breath shortened, and then Harry suddenly sat up, latching his magic mouth onto Draco’s collar bone and sucking on the soft flesh at the base of Draco’s throat. It made the blonde gasp and begin to shudder. One of Harry’s hands was planted on Draco’s cock and the other supported his half-sitting up position under Draco’s heaving chest. He left a trail of kisses everywhere he could reach, and he paused in his assault. Draco’s impending orgasm was quite palpable but still not quite THERE yet, and Harry meant to push him over the edge. He didn’t miss the way Draco had reacted to his moaning, and the Gryffindor used that to his advantage as he began to talk to Draco, punctuating with kisses.

“Oh god, Draco, yes, that feels so fucking good! You’re fucking beautiful! You ARE a god! You’re so fucking hot, Draco, and I can’t tell you how much I want you right now! Fuck, your cock feels so good in my hand, and I know you’re getting ready to come for me. Say my name, Draco; say it as you fucking come for me…” Harry trailed off as Draco’s thrusts faltered and then quickened, a sure sign he was going over the edge, and then Draco moaned.

“Harry…” he said breathlessly, echoing the needy tone of the black-haired boy from earlier. “Harry…oh, Harry!” And then Draco was coming in his pants, his pulsing cock pressed against Harry’s own, separated by layers of cloth and Harry’s hand. His pale back was arched and his head thrown back as he obeyed the Golden Boy’s dirty talk. Intimate feelings of love flooded through him, and Draco suddenly felt ashamed for them, too naked and exposed. His voice faded in the room, but Draco heard it over and over in his mind. When Harry took that tone, he sounded needy and erotic, but to Draco, his own tone just sounded pathetic; whiny, even. He didn’t move, panting, but his head dropped to his chest as he tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears that scalded his cheeks. The moment was just too pure, too intimate for Draco to handle, and he was woefully unprepared. Harry cocked his head, trying to figure out what was going on inside Draco’s head and why the blonde would be crying during his afterglow. Harry’s own afterglow had mostly faded; he felt a surge of peace and pride at making the Slytherin come, but that was quickly morphing into concern.

He had no idea what was wrong with Draco, but his instincts picked up on hurt and fear…a fear Harry himself had known during the early years of his childhood. It was the fear of not being loved, not being accepted, and not being wanted. For all that Draco was, right then, he was an anxious, frightened, and damaged child, and Harry responded to that. He laid back down, slipping his hand from between their cocks to rest on Draco’s back while his other hand found its way to the back of Draco’s silky head, and he pulled the stiff boy down to him, tucking Draco’s head under his chin as he smoothed the pale blonde hair, as soft as cornsilk, murmuring words of comfort.
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Author's note--I have to give credit where credit is due. The "frightened, damaged child, and he responded to that" line is not my own. (I added 'anxious', but the rest is *not mine*) It comes from a book called "If I Pay Thee Not In Gold" by Piers Anthony and Mercedes Lackey. If you want the page number, etc, email me, but you should know that I borrowed it from that particular book because it just FIT this scene.

And now...YAY! A little bit of HAWTNESS for you! I love that Harry kissed Draco in the labyrinth, Draco kissed Harry in the bathroom, and then they finally had their *first kiss*!

Also, did you catch the part where Harry said Draco's name? When he said it out loud in the bathroom, it corresponded to when he said his name in the stair room, right before he jumped. Pretty cool, huh? hehehe Even if Harry didn't "feel" Draco's lips brushing his in the labyrinth, I like to think that he "felt it in spirit" and drew upon it enough to stand up to Voldie.

And now...responses to reviews from the last two chapters:

WeasleyWench--OMG OMG OMG I had no idea what you were talking about, but it reminded me of the "Badger badger badger" song...and then I FOUND it online AND IT WAS A HARRY POTTER VERSION OF THAT SONG!!!!!!! I seriously freaked out for about 10 minutes! It was TOO COOL! Thanks for mentioning it!

thrnbrooke--I know what you mean! I was glad about Bella too! Thanks!

WeasleyWench--Thank you SO MUCH! Yay, I'm so glad you liked it! I know I watched that segment several times (making sure I had Voldemort's movements right) so I hoped you'd be able to "see" it. Yippee!

Maizeysugah--haha In the labyrinth, yes, you're right! Thanks for reviewing!

hilfreak--Hi there! Well, thank you very much for your kind words! I'm so glad I could make you laugh with the cheesiness that is our beloved 80's movies! hahahahahaha I sure had fun writing this, but make sure to stay tuned for the "good stuff" now!

This chapter is in the tenth segment of the movie on youtube. Here's the link (again) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kp_UHr0bi1A