Dark Corridors

Draco was completely offended by this--not that he expected the Gryffindor to be as enthralled with gawking at him as he was for him, but still... he sniffed in distaste, and let his voice drop down to a chilling whisper.. \"Fine, Potter. You want the world to go away? You\'ve got your wish.\" He turns briskly, and strolls back into the melting shadows.

Harry was stunned. He didn\'t expect Draco to actually do as he asked. You\'re letting him get away. Call him back. His growing interest in Draco was overpowering. Call him back. He repeated to himself. \"Draco... wait...\" Harry pleads. Startling himself. Harry sighs yet again. Now what? Why am I doing this? He\'s my enemy, he can\'t be anything other than... Can he? He was lost staring at the dim shadows, just able to make out Draco\'s retreating form. Perhaps I should have been in Slytherin.. Then again.. I think not. Harry trembled again...emotions torn and conflicting. He wanted Draco.. but what did Draco want? Harry was left confused by this new attraction to Draco. Telling himself to get over it and telling himself to let it be.
Trembling, torn, uncertain... the powerlessness made the young Gryffindor uneasy. He wasn\'t so brave now. He sighed yet again, heavily. Trembling in wait. Would Draco return? Since when had it become Draco? IF so, what would this lead to? Could he really trust him? Confusion pulled at him, begging heart and mind to listen.

In the bleak of the shadows, a blonde head turns, fine strands of silvery hair catching in the moonlight. He observes him with sharp eyes for a moment, glancing him over. \"What\'s the matter Potter? Don\'t want to be alone anymore?\" His voice drops a few decibles, low and silky, \"Why are you shaking...?\"

\"Draco...\" Harry whispered, trembling, from fear? From torn emotions? From uncertainty? It was hard to say.. Harry had given up trying to figure out what force drove him to to these actions. Excitement in the uncertainty, the unknown... in what might come. The abandonment of rational thinking, playing into some higher game.. Wherein, he was just a puppet in the night. Moving to some higher Master. Excitement...... he was feeling it throughout.
Yet he still felt torn.. and confused, angry and longing. No longer the master of himself. Needing comfort... sex... something to relieve the tension.... Harry just stood watching Draco.

Spellbound, as it were, at the sight of Draco against the moonlight sent a rush of pleasure through Harry. Did Draco notice? What would he think, if he did? He needed him... Wanted him... but.. How could he?

He looks at Harry curiously, glacier eyes observing him with obvious scrutiny. Standing there, looking lost and alone, Potter looked something like a crushed bloom--fragile and pretty, yet destroyed and tortured. Something akin to pity stirred in his heart, and he squelched it, relishing the feeling of all romanticism fading from him. Still, Potter was there, and he was a broken man. Pathetic. He felt a thrill at Potter\'s use of his first name, and he bit his lip in thought. Nodding in finallity to himself.. \"Come. For a walk.\" His voice was stern and commanding; not a request, but a demand.