Hate Transforms

Later that day, Draco made his way down a narrow aisle of books in the library searching for the book he needed to complete his Potions essay. He winced as he thought about the new Potions master, Slughorn. Potions was no longer challenging, even Potter and the Weasel were doing well. Though, Defense Against the Darks Arts had become more interesting since Snape took over the class. It did help that he was the Head of Slytherin House.

The book on the properties of wormwood was in the far reaches of the library. He loved getting lost in the books, in the knowledge, and the power that knowledge gave a person. The smell of parchment, dust, and ink permeated the air, filling his nostrils. It was a familiar and comforting smell, and one that was heartily welcome at the moment.

He needed to get away, out of his head, in the way only a book could manage.

Fucking Potter.

The kiss still haunted him, plagued his dreams. He loathed his weakness for not being able to shut the event out of his mind. He hated himself especially when he lay awake in the middle of the night trying to solve the puzzle that was that kiss. Why had Potter kissed him when he, Draco, had caught him eavesdropping and tied him up? And the way Potter kissed him; it was soft, not angry or hateful. It was almost as if Potter was comforting him. This enraged Draco more than the actual kiss. How dare Potter presume he needed coddling, especially from the Golden Boy?

What made everything worse was he began to wonder why Potter hadn’t made another move. He was pretty sure that must have been the first time Potter had kissed a guy before. He wondered whether this meant Harry was attracted to him.

He smiled to himself. The only enjoyment he got from the whole situation was the thought of the precious Boy Who Lived having an identity crisis over his sexuality. The bloody Gryffindor was probably going insane over the possibility he’s not the chivalrous heterosexual he was supposed to be.

Draco, on the other hand, was more open-minded. He figured, if he found love he wouldn’t care if the person was male or female. All he cared about was being loved for who he was, not who he was supposed to be.

Ah, finally he reached the W’s in the Potions section of the library. He easily found the book The Many Magical Uses of Wormwood and headed back down the dim aisle. He walked at a greater pace on his way back. He could feel his robes billow out behind him and brush against the stack of books. He always found the library to be drafty so he wore a black cashmere v-neck sweater over his white button down school uniform, with his Slytherin tie peeking out the top.

He hoped this essay would not take long. The following weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he needed to prepare. He had been to Borgin and Burkes and purchased the amulet he needed. It was a pathetic attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. He couldn’t waste any opportunity, unless he wanted to be accused of delaying, or worse defecting. The Dark Lord was not a patient man, if you could still call him a man; nor did he give second chances if he thought you were a traitor. The Dark Lord was more the kill now ask questions later type.

Thinking about the task set before him sent the usual pain in his gut, as if even his organs knew he was doomed.

As he rounded the corner to return to his table he slammed into a hard body, causing his book to fall unceremoniously to the floor and him to slam into the shelves behind him.

“Sorry, here’s your-” that unfortunately familiar voice stopped short.

Before he could look up he straightened the collar on his robes and brushed off the dust that had fallen off of the books onto his shoulder. There was no need in expediting the awkward moment that was sure to occur once he lifted his gaze.

Sure enough, when he looked up he found Harry- fucking- Potter staring at him with a pained expression filling those green eyes.

Their eyes remained locked for a moment too long. Then Draco shifted his gaze to the book that was still being held out half-way in his direction. Idly he noticed Potter had filled out a bit over the summer. Still an inch or two shorter than most boys their age, he was now toned and hard. Fuck him; he needed to get the hell away from Potter. Swiftly he grabbed his book, making Harry jump slightly, and began to maneuver around the brunette boy. But a sudden impulse stopped him.

When else would he get the chance to ask Potter without an audience?

So before his internal censor could do its job he asked mere inches from Harry, “Why’d you do it?” at the confused expression and furrowed brows he pressed, “Why did you kiss me?”

Green eyes bulged and Harry’s cheeks turned brilliantly red. None of which occurred unnoticed.

“I- I don’t know.”

“So what, you just go around kissing random blokes, Potter?” he drawled. He was trying to maintain his normal cold demeanor and finding it surprisingly difficult.

“No,” replied Harry with a hint of anger.

“Then am I just a lucky exception? Or perhaps you like being tied up?”

Draco could sense the anger building underneath the surface of Potter’s features, and was not surprised when he snapped back, “Fuck you Malfoy, you didn’t seem to mind. Are the rumors true? Are you a poof?” Harry’s voice dropped menacingly low, “Is that why you aren’t a Death Eater yet, ‘cause they don’t take fairies?”

Draco lost his temper. How dare he call him a fairy! A fairy was weak and cowardly. If that were true of him he would probably already have been killed by the Dark Lord. To have Potter of all people accuse him of such was the last straw.

He slammed the book flat against the shelf right next to Harry’s head, sufficiently trapping him in with Draco’s arms. They were chest to chest, almost touching. Draco could feel the body heat rising off of Potter. This close he could smell Potter too, a faint scent of pine that tingled in his nostrils. The other boy was obviously sizing him up to try and determine if this situation was about to resort to blows.

Draco narrowed his clear grey eyes and snarled, “I am not a fairy, Potter. And if my memory serves me correctly you kissed me. In addition, I would appreciate it if you stopped implying I am a Death Eater.”

“If the shoe fits, Malfoy.”

“Does it, though?” Draco internally berated himself. Why does he give a shit if Potter thinks he is a Death Eater? Yet, he found himself compelled to prove Potter wrong, to show at least one person that he was not going to end up like his father; a minion to a psychopath, who ends up in jail due to the under-handed and heinous acts done with no reasons given by his ‘master’. “You are quick to assume Potter, and assumptions are dangerous, especially in times like these.”

Draco watched his words sink in, watched Harry’s dark brows lower in both confusion and suspicion. It was hard for Draco not to admire the strong square jaw that was working on chewing the inside of Potter’s cheek, or the intelligent green eyes that never wavered from his shrewd grey ones. He found himself becoming drawn to Potter, the energy shifting again, as it had in the train compartment weeks before.

“Please, Malfoy,” Merlin why did he have to keep saying his name, “you have always been outspoken in your support for your father and his beliefs, and never given any evidence otherwise. Where’s the evidence in the contrary?” he finished by lifting his eyebrows in challenge and leaned forward slightly.

Draco couldn’t stop his body. His lips crushed into Potter’s for a bruising kiss. Harry’s rigid form slowly loosened, to his continuing surprise and consternation. He allowed his hips to lean into Potter’s as he traced Potter’s lips with his tongue, as Potter had done to him. He meant to stop there, but found he couldn’t, or wouldn’t; he wanted to take this as far as it would go.

He ran his tongue over Potter’s lips again and was shocked when not only did Potter part his lips but he tentatively caressed Draco’s tongue with his own. Draco quickly deepened the kiss with his tongue penetrating into Harry’s mouth. He relished in the warmth of the other boys mouth, and was amused when he tasted a hint of chocolate.

The kissing soon became more urgent and Draco grabbed Harry’s waist and pulled him into his body, keeping the other on the shelf behind them. Harry put a hand on Draco’s hip, opposite of his own hand. Draco jumped slightly as he felt a gentle hand finger into his hair and pull him in tighter.

Draco was already hard and his erection was pushing against the cloth of his trousers. As the two boys kissed he pushed his hips into Harry’s and felt the sizeable arousal straining likewise in Harry’s pants. Draco took grim satisfaction in the fact Harry was as aroused as he was by this inane coupling. When their erections rubbed together harder Harry gasped and pulled back slightly.

Fuck, Draco hoped Potter wasn’t about to bolt.

But the shock apparently was motivation because Harry attacked Draco’s mouth with greater fervor and thrust into his hips with a quickening pace. The cloth on cloth was beginning to frustrate Draco, he craved skin contact. With deft fingers he undid the button and zipper on Harry’s pants and slid his hand in. This time Harry had to stifle a shout.

“Merlin, Draco,” he mumbled against Draco’s neck.

Draco was now turning his attention to tasting as much of Harry’s skin as possible. He slowly licked down Harry’s neck as he began to work Harry’s length. Draco was astonished by the size of Harry’s cock, it rivaled his own.

His hand slid up and down the shaft of Harry’s cock, drawing out low moans from the Golden Boy. Harry soon began to thrust in earnest into his hand.

Draco’s erection was painful, yet he didn’t want to come here with Potter now. He wanted to both do this for Potter and take this from him. He wanted to give Potter this orgasm and break the previous assumptions there may have been about Draco, yet the cruel side of Draco wanted to steal this from Potter. He wanted to force the cum out of Potter, causing him to want what he shouldn’t. He wanted to prove that the Boy Who Lived was not above lusting over a Death Eater’s son. Because despite the lust they shared for one another the animosity remained between them.

He knew Harry was close when his breath began to hitch in his throat and the rhythm of his thrusts became erratic and no longer matched Draco’s pumping. Draco enjoyed the control he had now. He squeezed his hand tighter making Harry groan loudly.

Draco leaned in and whispered directly into Harry’s ear, “You will come for me, Potter. I am going to make you come for me.”

Harry shivered as Draco’s hot breath traveled over the sweaty skin of his neck. Then Draco bit down on the crook of Harry’s neck. That tipped the scale and Harry began to come, throwing his head back against the shelf.

“Fuck, Malfoy,” was all he managed before his cock bucked in Draco’s hand and his balls tightened.

Then hot come shot out over Draco’s hand, onto his trousers and Harry’s shirt. Slowly Harry’s breath slowed to normal, but a blush remained on his cheeks and his eyes remained closed. Draco quietly cast a cleansing charm over the two of them to clean up the mess Potter’s orgasm had made.

Draco began to wonder if he should leave. Harry didn’t seem to have any intention on moving in the near future.

“What the fuck just happened?” asked Harry in a hoarse voice.

Draco smirked and answered with his usual bravado, “I believe I just made you orgasm, like I said I would.”

“Right, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know. And really what does it matter, eh Potter? Doesn’t change a thing does it?” and without waiting for a response or giving Harry a chance to follow he walked away, out of the library, and headed straight for where he belonged, the dungeons.


*This is becoming much more interesting on Draco’s part than I had intentionally intended, but alas I do find him do be delightfully complicated. What do you think? Please Review; this is my first chapter fic, so I would appreciate any feedback! Thanks!*