Distorted Exposure

AN: :: waves :: I might still make that deadline.

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The dinner table was lit with the glow of a suspended chandelier decked in dozens of flickering candles, beneath which was spread an amiable feast. Four people sat at the table, eating and talking and though the conversation was pleasant enough, the air hung thick with resignation.

Draco ate in silence, not feeling the need to make pointless, indulgent conversation with his hosts and sitting at the table under the amber glow of the candles Draco caught himself wishing more sincerely than ever that he had indeed turned down Alex’s offer.

Keeping his gaze from gluing itself to his half empty plate, Draco made an effort to glance about the table with a poorly feigned air of interest. Neither Potter nor Alex plaid him any heed and Ren, for the most part seemed to watch him with a subdued interest that was immediately masked when he turned to catch her staring at him. Not feeling particularly hungry and yet not wanting to excuse himself half way through the last meal with his employers Draco grudgingly took several bites of mashed potatoes that he simply didn’t taste.

Draco felt his eyes flicker up as he heard the low, amused tones of Alex and though he couldn’t make out the words Draco felt inexplicably tense. Potter laughed, the sound cutting through the stale silence with ease. Draco jolted and gripped his knife a little tighter in his hand though he hardly noticed. More than anything Draco felt he could heard the soft thunder of his own heart in his ears, constricting and expanding with every word that the photographer in front of him spoke.

The table was long and they were seated around one end of it, Draco and Ren on one side and Potter and Alex on the other, and though sufficiently wide enough to hold all the various dishes of food that dinner called for, it did nothing to block Draco view of the pair. Draco swallowed the mash potatoes feeling as though he had forced down a mouth full of wet sand and contained the low hiss that rose in his throat for no reason known to him.

“So have you had a fun time, Harry?” Alex was turned towards the brunet, not even upholding the pretense of being occupied with his meal, and Potter in turn was wearing a indulgent smile.

“How could I not?” Harry rejoined playfully, though he was still entertained the ruse of eating his meal.

Draco gritted his teeth as a faint buzzing took root in his ears and tried to work on impaling peas on his fork.

“Well I know I had fun.” Alex murmured quite softly, though his voice seemed to bore into Draco’s ears, sickly sweet and yet embodying a serrated edge. Draco grinded the peas to much between his molars.

Harry laughed again and the sounded grated at him, “I’ll bet you did.” The brunet imposed and if Draco had bothered to look up he would have noticed that the amusement did not reach as far as his emerald eyes.

Potter was such a flirt, a complete and utter slut and he meant nothing. Yet anger boiled up in him so ferocious that Draco couldn’t so much as keep his hand from shaking. His fork was making a faint clatter against the porcelain plates that was drowned out quite readily by the conversation that Potter and Alex held with seeming ease.

“What are you implying?” Alex asked, a lilt to his voice that made Draco’s eyes narrow to mere slits. He willed the pair to feel the heat of his glare, to turn from each other. And though he suspected that even Potter wasn’t dense enough to be oblivious of what was by now, his rather menacing dislike for the situation, neither for a moment broke their engagement.

Draco didn’t think it was possible, sitting at what was quite near the centre of the mansion as one could get, but he reckoned he could hear the storm lashing outside pick up a notch as though in sympathy to his resentment.

Alex put a casual hand on Harry’s forearm and Draco couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t growled at that. Draco put down his fork and knife and took a conservative sip of his water. Draco felt the anger burning strong within him and he refused to wonder why.

Harry placed his utensils to the side and took a sip of water himself and Draco didn’t look away from the sight. Alex leaned in and Draco was overcome with the near undeniable urge to rip the ponce’s head off. And the nerve of Potter to let the idiot touch him in such a way, to practically whore himself out to the overly friendly photographer.

Draco was so enraged he forgot to wonder why he even cared. In fact it was obvious. For Potter to be such a needy slut, it was unbearable. It wasn’t as though the brunet wasn’t satisfied. Really couldn’t Potter keep his pants on one more night until he got out of the mansion. Apparently not, Draco decided as he watched the brunet allow the photographer to practically drape himself over him, and Draco felt distinctly sick to his stomach, or rather would have if he hadn’t been fuming with rage.

Clenching one hand into a fist, Draco glanced down as his scambled plate, now quite nearly willing the remaining peas on his plate to mush, not in the mood to notice when his efforts were fruitless. Draco felt his hair drape down over his eyes and was happy for it, because although he knew in his gut that both Potter and Alex were far too engaged with themselves to look up and catch his darkened gaze, he still felt safer peering out from behind his platinum locks.

Draco could feel the air in his lungs constrict and pull the walls around them in until he felt as though breathing was as much of a hassle as not and still no one took note of his silent rage. Draco felt himself crumble but he couldn’t afford a break down, he simply couldn’t.

Alex leaned in. Whispered words that were hardly audible let alone recognizable. Draco noted the slight twitch of Harry nose and knew that the photographer’s breath was blowing hot over the brunet’s ear. Potter’s ear. Harry’s ear. Draco shut his eyes and ground his teeth together, trying to quell the coils of anger that wound in the pit of his stomach and rose up his throat until couldn’t have breathed if he wanted to.

It didn’t have to matter. It was Potter. Potter meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Draco felt his head spin with those words and wished so desperately from them to be true. For Potter to mean nothing-

His laughter cut through the air and through all sensibility and control that Draco had maintained a tenuous grip on.

“Would bloody well get your hands off him?” Draco caught himself saying, his voice more than a whisper but let than the shouts that echoed within his head. Draco stood, slamming his hands on the table as he did. “And you.” Draco snapped turning his swimming mercury eyes to stunned emerald ones. “Do you have act like such a whore? I know it’s a lot to ask of someone like you but do you mind acting like a decent human being for once?”

Draco simply couldn’t stand it. The air in the room hummed in his ears, much worse than the buzzing that had filled them earlier. Pushing his chair back with a horrendous scaping noise Draco strode from the room and didn’t dare chance another glance at Harry as he did.

The thundering pace of his heart hadn’t eased in the least. He hadn’t thought seeing Potter so close to someone, touching so very casually, would set him off so badly. He knew he should walk back into the dining room, apologise for his unreasonable outburst but not a single fibre of his being was keen on that notion. In fact Draco knew without ever having to think about it that if ever he was to walk back into that dining room that he would have a fair few more things to say; things that he couldn’t afford to voice.

The double doors of the room slammed open with a resounding thud that was quite satisfying in a petty way. Draco saw the water as it washed against the open window blurring the world outside. The fire had burned down to it embers and the outside was a now a dull grey tinge that was brighter than the hauntingly empty room indoors. Even watching th storm as it lashed against the glass, Draco found that he didn’t care for its ferocity, didn’t care that the apparition spot would be caught up in a gale and that he’d be drenched before he made it halfway to the spot some yards away from the front door.

Draco simply wanted out. And with the oppurtunity to walk out he simply couldn’t stand to stay any longer, not when his heart was beating in his throat and his world was threatening to disappear from beneath his feet. He wasn’t sure whether or not there was any deeper meaning to what he felt, he wasn’t sure he could think straight, in fact he was certain he couldn’t and that was all the more reason to leave. To leave before...just before. Before what he wasn’t certain.

Draco grabbed his suitcase and threw on a travelling cloak, one impervious to rain, not that it would be any protection against the hurricane winds outdoors. Draco crossed the room, was steps away from the door and entirely prepared to leave the nightmare behind, his hand was already in his pocket reaching for his wand, ready to leave before...

The suitcase hit the ground and Draco’s hand fell limp as his side. His heart which had been beating its way up his throat crunched and came to what felt like a standstill. Draco felt as though he hadn’t drawn a breath since that moment so long ago when the air in his lungs had seemed to turn to stone.

Draco wanted to say something, to mutter a snarky phrase, or cutting insult, an apology or maybe just scream one of the dozens of thoughts that whirled about in his head much like the winds of the storm outside. But his jaw felt wired shut and still he couldn’t breath.

“Draco...” The voice was velvet soft and imagined, Draco was sure. A voice that soft wouldn’t have carried over the patter of the rain. It was dark and yet Draco closed his eyes.

“What...?”

“What do you want Potter?” He bit out, every bit the Malfoy. It was so much easier with his eyes closed, so easy in his imagination.

“No.” Was the snapped reply and Draco knew that even in his imagination, Harry couldn’t sound so vividly angry, frustrated, exasperated and so Harry. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?” It was a sigh, the only words that Draco could force his mouth to form. It wasn’t a question, not really. He just needed time, to gather himself.

‘Don’t act like you don’t know.” And the anger was still there, unjustified, Draco felt. Or rather he would have liked it to be. But there wasn’t anything for it.

“Potter give it a rest. If you have something to say to me...” Draco trailed off. The room was thrown into sharp relief as light flared up, lighting every last nook an cranny before dying away and leaving Draco quite nearly blind. As his eyes adjusted Draco knew that it was lightning or anything of the sort. What had been dying embers in the grate had flared to life, burning in such a bright and brilliant flame on nothing but ashes and Draco thought he could almost feel the magic. What he could feel though, for certain, was the impatient angry that permeated the room.

“What on earth are you doing?” Harry shouted, his voice seeming to take on the intensity of the fire. Draco trained his gaze on the flames not wanting to look at the man standing before him, not knowing that he wouldn’t crumble in his resolve if he did. And yet the flame was fickle and seemed to dance to the moods of Harry himself.

Harry took a step closer to the blond, his mind was in ruins and he couldn’t for the life of him form the sentence that he wished he could get through to Draco. Harry glared in hatred at the suitcase lying on the plush carpet floor, on its side next to Draco. Harry trailed his gaze up from the hem of Draco’s travelling cloak up until he was staring at the blond and yet Draco was gazing rather determinedly at the fire.

Composure. That was what Harry saw in his expression but it was so obviously fake. The blond turned to him and smiled, a gesture no more real that his expression a moment before.

“Are you done?” The tone was snide, so reminiscent of just about every conversation he had ever had with the blond and yet the voice itself was Draco’s. The same voice that moaned in pleasure as he pushed against the body under him and the same voice that could make him quake, with emotions, sensations and a number of other things he could never recall otherwise.

This was Draco, and knowing that Harry only wanted it more. A chance, a mere chance to make something of the only thing in his life that had touched him so deep.

Harry snapped. “No.” He husked and stepped up to the blond, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The flames flared high in the grate and Harry didn’t notice. He didn’t hear the rain on the windows or beating against the roof, he didn’t hear the beat of his own heart, all he heard was Draco’s breath airy and surprised against his cheek.

His hand was twisting in the hair at the nape of Draco’s neck before he was even aware of it. Harry pressed his body firm against Draco’s needing so badly to feel the sensation of being so close to Draco. The kiss was unyielding and impassioned, silky hot as his lips slid over Draco’s and needy as his tongue delved into the blond’s hot cavern. Their tongues washed over each other, familiar and exciting and Draco felt as though the stone in his lungs diverged into liquid ice that drowned him from the inside as Harry lips drowned him from air.

Draco felt his mind snap into place, or maybe a more reasonable part of it took over because in an instant he shoved away the body against him, the body that had encased him. Only it wasn’t so easy. Unrelentingly tangled Draco couldn’t help but fall. He hit the plush carpet with force he didn’t feel and caught himself on his elbows as he failed to pull away from the body on top of him. For a moment he didn’t want to. Then that moment passed, or was shoved away.

There wasn’t another instant Draco could live this way. Not another moment where he could submit himself to such sweet torture and retain his sensible mind. He simply had to leave.

Draco felt his eyes meet emerald and wondered what swam in his own mercury gaze, whether they were quite so impassioned as the green that glinted above him.

“I’m done with this.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”

“Yes.”

“Gods Malfoy, how you infuriate me.”

Harry took a deep breath but didn’t feel the least bit calmer. “So are you telling me all this meant nothing?”

“Yes. A convenient shag and nothing more.”

“Lies.” Harry spat. “You’re trembling.”

Draco’s face was a mask of indifference, perfectly uncracked. Harry hated how the blond could do that.

“That would be because you’re sitting on my crotch.”

“...” Harry glared.

“What did you expect? A love confession?” Draco asked, managing to sound snide and smug all at once and despite himself.

“No, but a show of human emotions would have been nice.” Harry spat bitterly.

Draco bucked hard. Harry didn’t relent.

“Sorry, no salt tracks on these pretty little cheeks. Not over out parting. Now if you could just get off me so we could get with the parting.” Draco thought it was quite a miracle that he could still speak when breathing was still quite a foreign task to him.

Harry hissed and sat up on his haunches and pushed to his feet as though burned by the mere contact he himself had maintained with the blond. Draco gave a grim smile and pulled himself to his feet, dusting off his cloak and grabbing his suitcase without another word.

The fire burnt out and fell to ashes once more.

Draco walked past the shadow in the dark.

“You were jealous.” Harry’s voice said from behind him. Clear and certain.

“What?”

“You were jealous, what with the way Alex was treating me. If you feel how you claim to feel then you had no reason to be jealous. And yet you were so very clearly jealous.” Harry’s words were thick and soft as they rolled of his tongue, like honey.

“I was disgusted-”

“Lies.”

“With myself. It’s not enough that I slept with you, allowed you to fuck me, but you were so unsatisfied that you let him put his hands all over you.” Draco felt rage again and couldn’t for the life of him find the voice to unlock the door to the coils of anger that curled within him.

“You didn’t want him touching me?” Harry’s voice was blank, void of all emotion and Draco found he still couldn’t bear to hear it.

“I didn’t want to think that I let someone so pathetic even lay a finger on me. You are nothing to me Potter, not even worth a moment of my thought.”

“So this is a ‘If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon’ type of deal then?” Draco wasn’t certain but he thought he heard a flicker of remorse in Harry’s tone.

“Never isn’t long enough.” Draco muttered in a way of parting. His feet were carrying him away before he could ever even think that another moment in the presence of Harry was too much to handle.

Draco opened the front door and walked out into the storm. The front steps were awash with the storm’s fury. The fronts doors thudded closed behind him. Draco took a breath of wind and stepped out into the torrent of rain. The walk to the apparition spot was a blur and he was standing by the marker before he was aware of the fact that he was soaked to the skin.

Draco couldn’t stand to turn around, to take one last glance at the mansion that loomed behind him. He simply had to leave before...before he shattered any more. With a turn the wind and rain and sounds of rolling thunder ceased to exist as he fell into the nothingness that was so very familiar.

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AN: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! Don't kill me...yet. I have one chapter to go. The epilogue. After that you guys can kill me all you want. But before you judge, all I ask is that you READ THE LAST CHAPTER. OK? Then everyone can have a free for all at the murder the authoress convention. I promise.

Anyways, since I'm still alive I think I'll answer some questions.

1) did you plan on your fanfic to get this long, or this much hits and reviews for that matter?

Uh...no. It was meant to be something that helped me get out of my writing funk and write a oneshot that I had promised. It was never meant to be completed and I never expected it to be this popular. I continued to write it because I was inspired by it and then because I was too far in to stop and I had truly begun to nuture a rather silly urge to see it through. As for the reviews, well all the readers and reviewers have been absolutely brilliant. I used to look at all those popular fics and be just a little envious of their success and now I feel quite honored that this fic has reached as many people as it had.

2) How long is the fic? Page-wise, that is?

Its currently 121 pages. A little over 65,000 words. That's the most I've ever written for one story.

3) Is it cold in Canada? [as asked by roxierose13, answered cause, well yes I said I'd answer questions and because she helped me actually get around to writing chapter 23 which was a bitch to me]

Answer: Only for about 6 months of the year. But for most of them I like to think of it as a nice sort of cold. Though there are some days where I wish the word cold wasn't one that needed to exist. But who needs to think of that, it's summer now [well okay its a bit brisk but only the last couple days].

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. If you guys enjoy reading my story half as much as I enjoy reading your reviews then the world must be a better place for all the enjoyment. <- yes that's lame, I don't care.

Oh and I'll try my hardest to get the last chapter up by my deadline of the 24th but a little encouragement/insane raging at my nerve, is always motivating.

- Incessant_Darkness