Catching Fireflies

Author: Default
E-mail: rustyrazorblades@sbcglobal.net
Rating: NC:17 in later chapters
Summary: After his parents\' demise, Draco is forced to spend the summer with Harry at Number 4 Privet Drive in order to stay alive. What do the two teenage boys think about this? (POV will alternate with the chapters)
Disclaimer: See Prologue
Author\'s Note: Whoo! Here is the third chapter. It\'s a bit later than planned, but it\'s still here. *grins*


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Harry\'s POV

I narrow my eyes at Malfoy (insipid blond ferret). \"Your room? Malfoy, in case you haven\'t realized, this house isn\'t exactly big. You won\'t be having your own bloody room,\" I snarl; and, turning my back to him, I bound up the stairs angrily. Somewhere behind me I hear Draco yell, though I barely even agnolish his threats. He can\'t do anything to me that I can\'t do back to him, so why the Hell should I listen to the git? My hand tightens around the wand.

Who does Snape think he is, coming over and dropping off Malfoy like some sort of dog, practically leaving the arsehole under my care?! Goddamnit, one of the only reasons I actually enjoy leaving Hogwarts for the summer is to not see the inbred moron! And Malfoy... bloody Hell, there\'s so much about him that I hate that I am not even sure I want to start. He\'s a Slytherin, my sworn enemy, the son of my other sworn enemy\'s right hand man, and he\'s fricken gorgeous! My \"family\" (...doesn\'t sound right when referring to them) now thinks I am a flaming faggot! Not that I am straight (hell, not even close), mind you, but still!

I storm down the hallway, enter my room, and slam the door hard behind me. The doorframe shakes with the force, but I don\'t pay attention, just like I don\'t pay attention to Vernon\'s shouts of \"Boy, you know better than to slam doors in this house! Now get down here and get this freak out of my living room!\" Pacing back and fro, clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides, the wand still in my right hand, I think furiously over my situation.

A part of me, the soft, rational Harry inside of me, is whispering urgently for me to calm down, that I need to calm down, I need to think this over. But I push that person away, grimacing with the disgust I feel for that person. Now isn\'t the time to bow my head like a bitch and take what\'s coming, for Merlin\'s sakes!

A heated argument begins downstairs, and from the voices I can tell it is between Malfoy and Vernon. However, they are not so loud that I can identify actual words, only a bunch of yelling. Surprisingly, I find myself chuckling, at both of the idiots. Despite the fact that this summer is going to make Hell look like an amusement park, I can already tell that there will be some amusing parts. Both Malfoy and Vernon are headstrong, and so used to getting what they wanted at the snap of fingers that they definitely will not adjust to each other. They have their heads so far up their ass that it is pitiful. A loud crash rings through the air- from the sound of it, a vase of some sort- followed by a shriek, followed by more yelling.

Still chuckling- though it is closer to giggling now- I stumble to my bed and throw myself on the worn out mattress. On my back, I stare at the age-stained (the only room in the house that looks like trash, too) ceiling. Absently, I realize that the chuckling is full-blown giggling, and that the bitterness has been replaced with something akin to hysteria. Even as I realize this, however, I can\'t stop, and soon I am laughing so hard I have to hold my stomach from the pain.

It feels good to laugh, in the midst of all this mess. Though I still feel tense- oh, damn... so tense, my muscles ache- wave after wave of both comforting and somewhat frightening merriment crash down on me, and I feel myself shudder. Tears roll down the corners of my eyes, down my face, soaking my hair. Even through the laughter, there is a lump in my throat, and I am not so sure the crystalline drops are from the laughter or from something else. In the back of my mind, in the place where I am so ignorant to at the moment, apprehension sparks, and for the first time since the laughter started, I am indeed hysterical. Perhaps it isn\'t so good for me to be laughing like this, after all...

\"You\'ve chosen a fine time to finally snap, Potter,\" came a cold drawl, and my gasp audibly, both in surprise and to actually take in much needed oxygen. I feel the laughter die down to giggles, and as I clasp my hands over my mouth to shut myself up, I roll over to stare at Malfoy, who is leaning against the closed door. With a detatched realization, I notice that he has obviously been in here for more than a few seconds, for his luggage is stacked up in the corner of my room (and taking up like half of the space).

Finally silent, I merely stare at the Slytherin. He does look good out of his robes. I\'ve always wondered how he\'d look in Muggle attire, and these clothes in particular are perfect. The black slacks snug on his somewhat feminine hips, silk shirt\'s first two buttons undone so that the creamy top portion of his pale chest is bare, the color making his silver eyes tint with an icy blue...

Oh, fuck. I just checked out Malfoy.

It isn\'t hard to see that Malfoy is bloody gorgeous. Hell, he\'s the closest thing to perfect I have ever seen. Not that I like him, of course not. I hate him with a passion, but that doesn\'t exactly mean I can\'t lust after him. He\'s a walking, talking, sneering, Slytherin wet-dream. And he has also, practically single-handedly, made my time at Hogwarts, the only place I truly feel comfortable at, seem bad. Figures, right? The person I dream about just happens to be my enemy. Luck just doesn\'t like me much. But the point is that I do hate him, and everything he stands for. I hate the pampered life he\'s had, while I lived inside a closet under the stairs. I hate the way he puts others down, and the way he treats everyone like he is their Master, as though he has the right to treat everyone like trash, as though he is some sort of higher-level being while everyone else is nothing in comparison. I hate it that he is his Father\'s son, and that he more than likely a Death Eater, and that he will be following a man who is hardly a man anymore like Voldermort is his Master. Bloody Hell, I hate him so fucking much!

Growling, I roll off my bed, and glare at the blond. He arches a perfect eyebrow at me, his luscious lips twisting into a sneer. \"Fuck you, Malfoy,\" I say in a low voice, rolling my shoulders back in a poor attempt to make some of the tension go away.

He chuckles, waving a pale, thin hand in the air as though dismissing me, and heads towards his suitcases. \"So this is the room I will be staying in? Really small... Snape\'s potion closet is bigger than this dump,\" he states blandly, looking over his stuff. With an attitude that clearly says he owns my room as of now, he sighs softly, turning his attention away from his luggage, and rakes his eyes across my room.

For about two minutes, neither of us talk. I am too afraid to open my mouth, for if I do a hex will surely roll off my tongue. The anger in me simmers, making my fists tremble and the muscle in my jaw twitch, but I try to keep the wrath in check. Not even I like it when I am feeling explosive, which is the state I am currently in. Calm down, Harry... Calm down. Think happy thoughts... Think of Hogwarts, chocolate frogs, Butterbeer...

I stare at Malfoy, he stares at my room, occasionally flicking his eyes to me...

...Quidditch, Hermione and Ron, Remus...

Finally: \"I wouldn\'t even give this room to my house-elf.\"

Okay, fuck the calm.

Before I know what I am doing, before I can even process a simple thought, I am hurling myself at the blond. My arms are around his middle, and his back is slamming into the suicases. He lets out a strangled cry, and I feel my lips curl into a feral grin. Not giving him time to hit me back, lean the weight of my lower body against him to keep him in his odd, obviously uncomfortable position against the suitcases, and punch him once, twice, three times in the chest.

In my rage I don\'t notice he\'s laughing until I raised my fist to slam it into his face.

Needless to say, that shocked me so much it pushed the anger aside, which gave Malfoy enough time to kick me off of him. He is still laughing, harsh and bitter and cold to my ears, and his eyes are wide with what seems to be excitement. However, before I can determine the look in his eyes, he turns back around to his suitcases.

His wand is in his hand...

I think it was there from the beginning.

Why didn\'t he stop me? He could have easily...

Still gaping at Malfoy, I don\'t realize that he has slipped ou his his shirt.. and pants...

WHAT?!

Scrambling to my feet, I back away. \"What the Hell are you doing, Malfoy?\" I manage to gasp out, trying to keep my eyes away from his smoothe, well-defined back and strong thighs.

\"What does it look like I\'m doing, Potter?\" he hisses, slidding his upper body into a silk black tank top that I didn\'t see in his hands. It\'s almost a shame to see his perfect torso disappear underneath the cloth...

As he pulls up matching silk slng sng slacks, he glances over his shoulder to look at me.

\"Well, give a fellow some warning then!\" I exclaim, trying my best to keep my attention on his face.

\"Like what you see?\" he grinds out tauntingly, a cruel glint in his eyes. I can tell that he is breathing harder than normal, his breathes ragged as their exit his perfect lips in sharp puffs. Apparently, I hurt him more than I thought I did.

\"No!\all all but shout, my face a shade of dark pink, as I spin on my heels so that I my back is to him.

\"Good.\"

I barely hear the muttered \"Stupefy\" before darkness claims me.

~~~

When I stir back into consciousness, I am briefly disoriented. However, a mere few seconds tick by, and my mind clears just enough for me to realize that I am on my bed, lying down on my side so that I am facing the wall. There is a weight beside me, so warm, so close to me that I can smell the essense of nutmeg and cinammon and even a pinch of mint radiating from it even though I\'m not even facing that direction. Where there should be a dull ache throughout my body, as a result of the Stupefy spell, there is none. For a person who just got hexed, I am feeling particularly good. Serene, almost. I wonder what happened after I got knocked out?

Feeling a twitch, then a shudder, from the weight next to me, I realize with a startled gasp that the \"weight\" pressing against my back is a body... Draco Malfoy\'s body...

at tat the-\"

Before I could even finish what I was going to say, an odd-sounded whimper emitts from the blo Fro Frowning, I roll over a bit and ease myself into a sitting position as carefully as possible, not wanting to disturb the sleeping form. The process is excruciatingly slow, for Malfoy is lying on his back, taking up more than half of the space of the old bed.

Finally up, body tight against the wall, I look down at the boy.

His somewhat thin lips, the colo del deluded blood, are parted, his drowsy breathing puffing in and out of those flawless lips. Platinum blond eyelashes rest against the soft area below his eyes, the color more on the white side and matching the fairness of his skin. A gentle, barely noticible tint of pink marrs his high cheekbones, but it doesn\'t take away from the perfection; it suits him well, makes him look innocent when I know perfectly well he isn\'t. A stray lock of silvery blond lays across his slightly damp forehead, the rest of his hair- for once- not perfect, fanned out behind his head on the snow-white pillow. Beneath the moonlight that peers through the slanted window blinds, and cuts through the otherwise complete darkness of my room, Malfoy looks almost seraphic. His face is troubled, however, not like an angel\'s should be; a minute crease dents the center of his plucked eyebrows, and a small frown makes his mouth curl down a bit.

I wonder if he\'s dreaming...

Moistening my lips, I reluctantly shift my attention away from the Slytherin. The room is silent except for Malfoy\'s steady, dulcet breathing, and my own careful intakes and exhalation of oxygen. With the light the moonbeam gives, I can see small, fluttery particles of dust floating through the air floating in that lazy ashen ray. Strangely, the very end of the glow lands directly on the unconscious teenager beside me, almost like a spotlight.

Always the one to be in the center of attention, eh Malfoy?

He tilts head head to the side, mumbling groggily under his breath, his words meshed together and so muffled in the sleep\'s haze that I cannot destinguish what exactly is said, yet it sounds pleasant as the sound reaches to my ears, almost melodious...

... and then he screamed.

I swear, I jump at least two feet in the air, my heart hammering hard against my ribcage that I can hear the beat in my hears.

The scream is unlike any other I\'ve known. It isn\'t filled with agony, as Pettigrew\'s had been in that place where Cedric and I gotnsponsported at the end of the Wizard Tourniment, when he got his hand sliced right off. Sorrow, guilt, and utter helplessness laced through that single, sharp, horrible yet wordless scream. Without thinking, for there wasn\'t time before Vernon came banging on the door, I quickly moved to straddle his thighs, clasping both of my hands over his wide-open mouth.

With my weight on him, still in his sleep, he began to squirm, kicking and punching me frantically. It hurts, a lot, especially when one blow lands on my lip. Blood erupts from the wound, trickling down my chin. I lick my lips, noting absently the coppery taste. Growling under my breath, I leaned by upper body closer to his, so that our chests are brushing together, and rest my forehead against the top of my right wrist.

His fists can no longer gain access to my face, which is the point of putting my head so close to his. Instead, he begins clawing at my back. Even through the cloth, it hurts like Hell, and I know that I am going to have marks in the morning. Another scream errupts from his throat, but hums against my palm, trapped, making my palm damp and hot with Malfoy\'s breath, before finally dying out.

What must have been about half a minute passed, though it seemed more like half a century. The body under me suddenly tenseyingying down inhumanly still beneath my weight, the breathing even temporarily at a hold. Frowning, I pick myself up so that I am in the position I started off with, and set my attention on the blond\'s face, a blood drop from the burgundy trail on my chin dropping almost dreamlike to splatter on closed, pale pink lips...

And I gaze into Malfoy\'s wide, red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes that hold just a little too much despondency for someone who\'s had it so good...

And in the moonlight, the orbs look ghostly, the color practically transparent and the black pupil floating at the center of the translucent mist of silvery white...

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Author\'s Note: I actually don\'t like this chapter much. ^^;; I\'m not sure, but the only part that actually clicks with me starts from the part Harry wakes up until the end. Please review.