Up The Road

Chapter 3

Harry felt dizzy, his knees weak and his forehead drenched. Draco\'s advances had worked a number on him, and he wasn\'t sure that he\'d be able to focus for the rest of the night. Yet Draco hauled him upwards anyway, seemingly taking some delight in the fact that Harry groaned a little in protest. If Harry had been more cognizant, he\'d have wondered how Draco had been able to pick him up, but it would not have been something he\'d learn until later, at a time when his life would be more complicated than it had ever been before.

Harry was allowed to rest briefly in a chair. Meanwhile, Draco paced up and down, looking all too much like Snape in the process. Harry didn\'t care at that moment. He just wanted to sleep. He could already feel it on his eyelids, enticing him, just to sleep...to sleep...to let go and dream....

A sharp sting on his cheek quickly drove all such thoughts out of his head. As if acting on automatic, he placed a hand to his now-red cheek, clutching at it in disbelief. Draco Malfoy had just slapped him, and slapped him hard. All the softness of the few minutes before, with Draco\'s hot mouth engulfing his prick had all vanished into thin air as soon as Draco\'s hand had hit his skin.

\"Did you just...slap me?\" asked Harry, blinking away the sting in his eyes. He still could not bring himself to believe it. This Draco Malfoy, blonde, rich and - Harry noted - stunning in a snobbish way, had always been afraid of him. But now he\'d hit Harry. It didn\'t add up.

Draco rolled the sleeves up on his shirt. He\'d already gotten rid of his school cloak, which was laying carelessly on top of a stack of papers on Snape\'s desk. Harry marveled at Draco\'s form, a form he hadn\'t taken the time to notice much before. Though, if he were completely honest with himself, he had been noticing the covered portions a lot lately, left only with his imagination to think up the rest. Even now, as Draco walked towards him, slowly, his expensive shoes echoing off the cold stone floor, Harry cursed himself softly for not at least trying to reach out a hand, to feel the things he\'d been imagining at night for so long.

Draco\'s voice was cool and unhurried as he spoke. \"Yes. You deserved it. You always have.\" Then he smirked, and placed two fingers on the hand of Harry\'s holding his cheek. He lowered Harry\'s hand and replaced it with the same two fingers, tracing the designs he had just made. Complete and utter satisfaction passed across his face. He obviously likes hurting me for all those times I\'ve made him look stupid, Harry reasoned with himself. Maybe it\'s only fair.

Draco shook his head, as if reading Harry\'s thoughts. \"It\'s not punishment,\" he said, tsk-ing at the end of his sentence. Then he sighed. \"It\'s just....\"

After a few minutes, with Draco\'s fingers barely touching his face, Harry dared voice his question. \"It\'s just what, Malfoy?\"

Then Draco looked away, as if recollecting himself. With his back to Harry, his voice was able to focus and adopt a colder tone. \"Stand.\"

This time, instead of arguing, Harry shrugged out of his own coat and found his wand. His hands were slightly unsteady, as if he\'d had too much to drink when really he was still reeling from the impossibility of his orgasm. The one he\'d had with Draco Malfoy, his archnemesis for so many years.

Draco, with silver-blue eyes that watched him as he stood awkwardly. Harry had grown a lot during the past summer, a fact of which he had not been aware for many months. Draco had always seemed so much taller, but now they were nearly the same height.

\"No wand,\" said Draco, taking Harry\'s wooden tool and placing it on the desk behind him without looking. Again, Harry had to marvel at the changes within Draco: at the sheer control, and the way his whole body seemed to know what it was doing, as if it were on a predestined path of sorts.

\"Fine,\" said Harry, beginning to feel adgitated. How had he not noticed the changes in Draco? Or maybe he had. That would explain his renewed attraction. Suddenly, every inch of him screamed danger, and he lunged out at Draco, wanting to kick him, to knock him to the ground. It was a trick, it had to be. Why else would the Slytherin talk to him? It must have been something concocted by Snape, under the pretense of helping Harry hone some skill that Snape could not teach him. That\'s what the Potions master had been hinting at for a while, that Harry would need more tutoring, more increased practices, but that he wasn\'t sure he wanted to do it. Harry knew that this meant Snape couldn\'t. The older, greasy professor would never admit that he couldn\'t do something, unless he was in the benevolent presence of Dumbledore.

Harry thought of rushing to Dumbledore. As his fist refused to connect and he fell to the floor in embarrassment, Harry\'s only preoccupation became to retrieve his wand, and to extinguish the prat Draco Malfoy. At least Ron would be happy about it.

Draco\'s hand was on his back, then his shoulder. He pulled Harry up by the scruff of his neck, pulling hard, and Harry knocked his head against the edge of Snape\'s table.

\"Honestly, Potter,\" Draco started in. \"I\'m amazed you can get from class to class.\"

\"Who says I do?\" said Harry through a muffled mouth as he tried to get his tongue working again. He\'d bitten into it when his head hit the desk, and it had hurt. He checked, and felt relieved that everything was, thankfully, still intact.

He faced Draco. \"What?\" he asked irritably.

The Slytherin seemed disappointed. \"I knew Severus said you were slow along,\" said Draco, and here Harry\'s eyes widened like saucers upon hearing Draco using the given name of their Potions master. \"But this is really awful, Potter. Aren\'t you supposed to be great at this stuff? A real hero?\" Draco pronounced the last word with such loathing, and Harry could see that his former - or was it really former? Could Harry be sure it wasn\'t a trick? Was he simply going to trust this boy in front of him? - nemesis still held much hatred for him.

He reached out towards Draco with one hand, draping one hand on the Slytherin\'s hip. Draco flinched, and his eyes seemed inexplicably whiter.

\"Why did you agree to help Snape?\" asked Harry.

Draco shook his head, and Harry could see that he wasn\'t going to get that question answered any time soon. It was one that could wait, for now, however.

\"Fine,\" said Harry once more. But then his voice failed him, his eyes fell to the floor, and the hand that was on Draco\'s body began to release sweat, which he was sure the other wizard would be able to feel. Draco did not relent from watching him, and Harry grew uncomfortably awkward.

\"Ask,\" whispered Draco so softly that Harry wasn\'t sure he\'d heard it.

\"Why?\" croaked Harry immediately afterward.

Draco frowned, the crease in his brow taking all of Harry\'s focus, since it was the only place he could put his gaze without feeling too odd. He wanted to look at Draco, to lose himself in the eyes that promised heat and cold all in one, but he couldn\'t. Instead, he looked at the pale forehead, with the blonde eyebrows nearly drawn together in their disapproval.

\"I\'m afraid you\'ll have to do better than that, Potter,\" was all Draco said.

Harry knew he\'d have to look into the eyes to get the honest answer. Of all the changes Draco had gone through while Harry hadn\'t been paying enough attention, the one thing Harry could see now was that Draco could lie, and easily. Perhaps Snape had been teaching him, or maybe it was a Slytherin trait that all the students of that house had.

Taking a breath and trying to wipe his hands on Draco\'s shirttails without attracting the boy\'s attention, he slowly let his gaze fall down the pale, crystalline face, lower and lower, until unwavering blue-clear eyes faced the ones he knew to be green, the ones that were his.

Blue and green, like the ocean. Harry wiped this thought away quickly, finding it to be too distracting.

\"Why, Malfoy?\" he said again. Not letting the Slytherin roll his eyes at the repetition, Harry trudged on with fumbled words, ones that he wished he\'d had time to prepare, though he knew in his life he\'d never have time to prepare such things. \"Why do this now? Why help me? Why...why put your mouth there and make me feel like that?\"

Harry\'s face positively burned red. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Any moment, Draco would answer, and Harry would know, and somehow, some way, he should be able to tell whether or not it was a trap. His mind clamoured to be heard, to warn himself that he was about to be deceived, but he kept on looking into the eyes, where the real truth would lie, and he saw that Draco\'s words, though they proved to be brief, would also prove to be the truth.

\"I\'ve no other choice,\" was the response.

It didn\'t tell him as much as he wanted to know. But the eyes...it was in the eyes. Draco had been abandoned. If he were doing it to turn Harry in, it didn\'t matter. Harry could take care of himself, and he\'d demonstrated that at the end of every year at Hogwarts. Draco was cunning, but he wasn\'t as good at Harry was at survival. Though, Harry noticed, perhaps he\'d gotten better in the past few months. But maybe he\'d had a teacher. One other than Snape.

\"One more question,\" said Harry quickly, his wand in his hand now, which he\'d sneaked in his attempt to clean his hand of sweat earlier.

Draco waited.

\"Show me your arm,\" requested Harry, hearing his own voice shake.

Draco\'s gaze wavered only slightly. Then, setting his lips into a pout that left Harry wondering if he could get a repeat performance from earlier, Draco inched up his sleeve.

A huge, burned mark, with an unmistakable serpent lay there, a mark that Harry could not deny.

The truth always gets more bitter, thought Harry bitterly as he picked up his cloak and readied himself to leave. He knew Snape would give him detention, but he didn\'t care. He had to get out of here. It was Voldemort, fucking with his mind, making him do things he\'d never have done...

Harry knew in his heart it wasn\'t true. There was something else in Draco, something other than Death Eater.

He heard the measured tones as he walked the last steps of the classroom, determined never to come back to these night sessions, even if Dumbledore yelled at him.

\"I\'ve no other choice,\" said Draco again.

Harry stopped mid-step, then continued on, his head clouded by rage.

Draco\'s words had sounded so different the second time. Like it was an apology maybe. But no, Draco Malfoy wasn\'t one for apologies: he did what he wanted, took what he wanted, and never looked back. So what could it mean?

\"I\'ve no other choice.\"

\"Of course he had another choice,\" hissed Harry to himself in the hallways. \"He just made the wrong one.\"

And with that, Harry walked to his common room, feeling gratified at his discovery, good that he\'d recognised a possible threat.

It was only when he closed his eyes to go to bed that he remembered the lips and the eyes and the mouth and the...Merlin, what was he doing?

Harry pulled his hand from his cock and tried to sleep.

\"I\'ve no other choice.\"

\"No choice from what?\" wondered Harry aloud before turning over and falling into sleep.


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