Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Thanks for betaing girls ~ you know I love you don't you?

Chapter Eighteen


Harry stretched. His senses felt like they were on overload. Unknown tastes and smells assaulted him, his sense of smell seemed sharper and more alive than it had ever been, and that was when he realised: he was still a lion. He could feel the strength running through him, he felt powerful in this form; he felt invincible.

He kept his eyes closed but ran his tongue over his muzzle; it was such a strange feeling licking something so warm and furry, but not unpleasant. He tried to identify the smells that assailed him; they were so much aromatic than he was used to. He thought he could smell Mrs Weasley in the distance, he could certainly hear someone pottering about in the kitchen. Professor Snape was close by too, much closer than Molly Weasley, and there was also an animalistic tang in the air - that was Professor Lupin, he was sure. But the most powerful scent assaulting his nose right then was fear, and pain; he could almost taste it, the terror, and it was getting stronger by the minute.

He knew what it was without having to look, the fear, the pain. It was emanating from the boy he had pinned down on the mattress that they shared; it was coming from Draco.

Finally Harry looked at the other boy. His eyesight was much sharper in this form; he could see Draco’s dark curling eyelashes, the individual hairs on his head, fine blond hairs, the pores on his skin, skin which was currently pale and clammy. The existence of the pain was evident; Draco was very sore from the night before. But Harry couldn’t identify the source of the other boy’s terror - Draco was human again, he was safe. And then he realised what was wrong: Draco was frightened of him.

Harry reacted instinctively. He did not transform back into his human form, he didn’t want to do that yet. He liked being a lion, it was nice, it felt right, it felt comfortable somehow.

Instead he began to purr.

The sound was deep and rumbling, it vibrated in his chest cavity and his throat. And, after a couple of seconds, it began to work; Draco it seemed was relaxing, even if only a little. Harry put more effort into it - he was new to purring after all - but releasing a tiny bit of magic along with the resonant sound, relaxed the other boy even more, the fear was receding. The purring was working.

Perhaps even without realising it, Draco was snuggling into him, nuzzling into the warm golden fur. Harry thought that this was what it would be like if he had a cub, something smaller than himself, and more fragile relying on him. He felt powerful, protective.

He started to nuzzle back, sniffing Draco turning him gently with his snout, trying to identify the source of the pain.

“Pppotter, what are you doing?” Draco was saying. “Ssstop it!” He lifted his hand and smacked Harry on the nose as he continued to explore his prize.

Then he started to wriggle, trying to get away. He was still a bit scared, Harry could tell. So he tightened his grip on Draco’s torso, and growled gently in warning.

Draco squeaked and stiffened again.

But Harry had identified the source of Draco’s pain; his limbs were aching, his joints sore. Harry had embraced his transformation the night before, but Draco had fought his, tried to deny it. The battle that his body had undergone had wrenched muscles and left them tender and aching too; he was covered in scratch marks from where his nails had ripped at the skin, desperately trying to remove the wiry hair that had rapidly covered him. He had bitten himself as well; some of the bites were deep and still oozed thick sticky blood, even now. If they weren’t cleaned then they would fester, so Harry began to clean them.

Draco tasted tangy, he found. The sweat that lay on the other boy’s skin in a light sheen was slightly salty but the blood had a coppery flavour. Draco was wriggling even harder now as Harry’s leonine tongue laved him. But the fear had gone, and the noises that Draco had begun to make were far more welcome to Harry’s ears: Draco was giggling; Harry was tickling him with the rough, wet surface of his tongue.

When he had finished Draco lay completely still. He was staring at Harry in wonderment. The scratches and bites were clean now, they seemed to be healing already and Harry thought that the pain had gone too. Draco seemed even more awed than he had before; he lifted a hand to Harry’s head and gently stroked his muzzle.

“What did you do, Harry?” the other boy breathed. “What did you do to me? The pain, the soreness has gone, it’s all gone. What are you, Harry Potter?”

Harry wanted to say that he wasn’t anything, that he wasn’t special, he was just Harry. But he couldn’t speak in this form; so without thinking about it, without even trying very hard, Harry transformed. The change was even more fluid than it had been the night before. He suddenly felt small and cold and weak; Harry had liked being a lion, it felt right, he felt safe like that.

But Draco’s eyes widened again as Harry returned to himself.

“Oh!” he whispered, “Oh Harry.”

For a while they just lay there, holding each other, trying to keep warm. Draco was watching him, examining him. He did not speak again; instead, without warning, he took Harry’s face in both his hands and began to kiss him. The kiss was firm, insistent. Draco tasted very slightly of blood, he tasted of morning.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he started to respond; the kiss was wonderful. It was nothing like the damp kisses he had shared with Cho, nothing like the sweet gentle exploration that he had experienced with Ginny. This felt right, it was what he had been searching for - the kisses were demanding, tender, passionate, firm and Harry just gave into the new sensations and began to kiss Draco in return.

His senses were still enhanced: he could smell his own arousal, he could smell Draco too. His skin felt much more sensitive, he was lying naked beside Draco Malfoy; he could feel warm, silky skin against his own. He could feel the weight of Draco’s leg as the other boy draped it over his own legs, he was pinned now to the mattress by the taller boy. Draco was in charge this time, Draco was kissing him and Harry was loving it.

He felt his cock fill and harden, pressing against something equally hard. It was Draco. Draco’s cock had filled, he was aroused too. He could still smell him, the scent of the other boy drowning his senses, a mixture of wonder, and lust.

Harry found himself pushed onto his back, Draco covered him with his own larger body as he went to work, forcefully increasing the power of the kiss, demanding entry into Harry’s mouth, running his hands over Harry’s body and, oh Merlin, it felt good.

It had never been like this with Ginny. Never before had Harry been so aroused and Draco seemed confident, forceful. This time he was the one who had more knowledge; he was the leader. So Harry surrendered. He, who always had to hold himself together, who had never really relaxed around anyone before, who always had to plan ahead, wonder how he would deal with things, how he could protect himself. Harry forgot everything and just let Draco take charge, for the moment at least and do whatever he wanted with Harry’s body.

He was awash with sensation. He did not know if it was a left over from his animagus form which had so aroused him, had seemed to unleash his senses, but he could not have fought against these feelings if he tried, so he didn’t try. He allowed Draco free reign to plunder him at will, to have his way, and Draco seized the opportunity that Harry had given him. He ran his hands over Harry’s body, stroked his chest, his stomach, when he grasped Harry’s cock. Harry groaned - no one else had ever touched him there; the touch of Draco’s fist, his warm hand as he stroked Harry was like nothing else, it was amazing. The feeling of arousal increased, grew and Harry lost himself in the new sensations that were bombarding his senses and came with force into Draco’s hand. A moment later and Draco was coming too, he had lifted himself up a little and, all at once, thick, warm sticky liquid was spurting over Harry, all over his legs, his belly, his cock, bathing him in the essence of the other boy. Draco gave a groan and sank down so that he was resting on Harry.

His face wore a smile of sheer pleasure.

But Harry was in shock.

What had just happened? He could not believe it, he had just had the most amazing orgasm of his entire life. He had never felt anything like that before, ever. He had just had sex with another boy; he had just had sex with Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly Harry felt cold all over, what if Draco had done what he had just done because he thought he owed Harry something? What if Harry had forced him somehow?

Harry could not for the life of him think why else the gorgeous blond boy would want anything to do with him.

He felt like crying.

Draco must have worked out that Harry was gay and thought that he had to do this - there was no other way that he would want him, was there? Surely not? Draco wasn’t gay, was he?

A sob escaped him.

Draco lifted himself up on one elbow. He had been sprawled over Harry before, in complete abandon, but now he regarded Harry curiously.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Harry did not know what to say. The warm, blissful feeling that he had been experiencing only moments before had completely dissipated; he felt dreadful.

“M’sorry,” he finally whispered. He turned his head to one side and tried to fight against the prickling feeling of emerging tears behind his eyes. He was determined that he was not going to cry.

But Malfoy took his cheek in one hand turned his face back so that he could look at Harry.

“What are you sorry for?”

He looked confused. This close to the other boy, Harry could see him quite clearly.

“You didn’t have to do that you know. I’m sorry if I made you… if you thought you had too..” He couldn’t continue.

Nobody had really wanted Harry like that in a sexual way, had they? Cho had really liked Cedric, he had just been a dalliance because he was Harry Potter, and Ginny had been like that too. She had got bored of him very quickly once they were together; and had gone back to Dean as soon as they broke up. Harry didn’t really mind - he wanted Ginny to be happy - but he wanted someone to fancy him, Harry, and not Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived.

But why would they? He was small and skinny, and probably quite a disappointment really. He couldn’t even kiss. Draco kisses had been wonderful; Harry had not known that it could be like that. No wonder Ginny was disappointed.

“Potter, what the fuck are you talking about?” Draco asked. “I have been dying to get into your pants for weeks. That was fucking fantastic, what the fuck are you apologising for?”

Harry was astonished.

Draco had wanted to do that?

“You fancied me?” he asked in puzzlement. He was looking directly at Draco now, trying to assess his honesty.

“Of course I did, you prat. What do you think the hot sex was all about?”

Harry shrugged, “I just thought that you felt you might owe me something, or you were sorry for me or something. I mean I like boys and I like you but I didn’t know, till now, I’m sorry, could you tell somehow? Did you think I would make you do that?”

He knew he was babbling, that he sounded pathetic, needy, but he couldn’t help himself.

This time it was Draco’s turn to look astonished

“Those fucking Muggles did a job on you, didn’t they Potter,” he said snarkily.

He regarded Harry for a moment before continuing.

“Listen, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye. Fuck, we have hated each other for years, but that hasn’t stopped me from fancying you. You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Me, gorgeous? You must be mental; turning into a werewolf last night did something to your brain.”

Draco sat up and studied him.

“You really believe that, don’t you Harry?” he said softly. “How could you think so little of yourself?

“Snape said that he’d got you wrong, that you weren’t arrogant, but I thought he was talking out of his arse! I mean how can someone be as powerful as you are, as good-looking as you are, and not know? But you don’t, do you? You really believe that crap, don’t you, you daft twit? Not only do I fancy you like mad, and get turned on by how powerful you are, but I feel safe and protected by you.

“Last night I thought I was going to die. It hurt so much and I couldn’t stop fighting it. They wouldn’t stay with me, even with the Wolfsbane, they couldn’t. Professor Snape said that Lupin wasn’t sure that he was safe, ’cause he didn’t have enough potion and so they left me.

It wasn’t as bad as the first time - it really wasn’t - but it was bad; it was fucking agony. And then you came. This great big protective lion came into my cell and it comforted me, it made things all right. The transformation didn’t hurt so much when I wasn’t alone and you held me, you held me all night. You didn’t have to do that, you don’t owe me anything. But you did and it made everything okay. Then this morning, you were still there and you hadn’t left me,” Draco’s voice broke then, he stifled a sob of his own, “and I was scared at first, and then you made that rumbling noise, and then you did that thing with your tongue, do you have any idea what that felt like?”

Harry ducked his head again and blushed.

“M’sorry,” he whispered again, letting out a gasp of surprise when Draco slapped him on the arm.

“Don’t you dare, Potter!” Draco snarled. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for what we just did. You have just let me do whatever I wanted to you; we have just had fucking fantastic sex.” He narrowed his eyes and put his head to one side, “You had never done it before, had you?”

Harry shook his head tightly and blushed even deeper.

Draco smirked. “I thought not,” he said. “You are so fucking innocent that I can’t quite believe it. Harry Potter a virgin.” His smile turned predatory, “My virgin.”

“Don’t you know what a gift you are?”

He examined Harry’s face. What he was looking for, Harry couldn’t have said for the life of him.

Finally he said, “Are you okay to do this, Harry? With me? Make love?”

He was stroking Harry again, running firm hands along Harry’s arm, trailing over to his chest and down again towards his penis. Harry felt himself growing hard again.

“Oh please,” he murmured. “Please, Draco,” the blond boy grinned again. “I suppose you have never had a blow job, have you Harry?” he asked and Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

Harry’s mind was in turmoil, his body was more satiated than it had ever been, but his head was spinning with thoughts, he felt like it might explode. He was lying in Draco’s arms, the other boy had wrapped himself around Harry and he was sleeping. It must still have been very early, but Harry couldn’t sleep.

He kept thinking about what Draco had said, what Draco had done. The other boy had taken Harry’s prick into his mouth and sucked him off. Merlin, he had done far more than that; he had licked him and sucked him, and nibbled at him and run his hands over Harry’s torso and legs and finally when Harry had come he had swallowed it all.

Then he had taken Harry’s hand and placed it on his own hard cock and pushed himself into Harry’s fist until he had also found release.

Harry had cast scourgify and summoned a blanket which had been folded at the end of the mattress. They were snuggled underneath it now.

Draco had told him that sexual orientation didn’t matter in the wizarding world. How could it, when magic was so readily available? Magic could do so much: wizards could use Polyjuice and try being female for a while; children could be born to surrogates. The Patil twins had two fathers, Draco told him; so did Theodore Nott and Ernie MacMillan. Wizards were gay, straight, bi - it didn’t really matter. It was magic that matched up, magic that attracted wizards and witches to each other. Without such compatibility, there could be no union. That was what had gone wrong with Harry and Ginny; it was nothing to do with him, and everything to do with his magic. That’s why Weasley and Granger, who seemed so different, were together - their magic had attracted them, they complemented each other. For sex it didn’t matter really, it wasn’t important, but for anything else, anything deeper; a relationship could not grow or develop unless the magic of the two individuals matched.

Harry still didn’t understand it all, he was still somewhat confused. But at least he didn’t feel disgusting or freakish any more. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he might talk to Professor Snape about it later; ask him about the things that he still didn’t understand.

But right now his eyes felt heavy. He was cradled against Draco’s chest; the other boy’s breath ruffled his hair and Harry couldn’t help smiling to himself.

Who would have thought it, eh? Him and Draco Malfoy. It had been great, it had been brilliant; he had just done something that most teenagers did sooner or later. He had just had his first sexual experience. Warm, cosy, satisfied, Harry started to drift of to sleep and, for the first time in just about as long as he could remember, Harry Potter felt normal.