Dream Lover

A special thanks to my lovely beta knightmare. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, love. Thanks also to Kit for soothing my nerves through this hellacious chapter. I might have deleted the entire thing if not for you!

Disclaimer: I’m not JKR. They aren’t mine. But I plan to come back as JKR in my next life so they will be mine. Mwahaha.

A/N: For those readers who are sure to question me about this dream (you know who you are!) I realize this is not a situation in which Harry and Draco ever found themselves. But I liked the idea of a “phone sex” kind of dream, and when all you have to work with is a floo, you make do! So pretend it’s a scene from Order of the Phoenix where Harry is talking to Sirius and replace Sirius with Draco…

Severus Snape sat at his favourite student’s bedside in the hospital wing, watching over him carefully as he slept. He was recording Draco’s actions in a small notebook for further study. There was something going on here, and he was determined to find out what it was.

He’d been observing the blond sleeping for over an hour before the boy started murmuring.

~*~

Draco’s head glowed green in the fireplace as he whispered dirty nothings to the boy sitting on the sofa, legs spread out in front of him and clothing unbuttoned.

He watched, completely turned on as Harry ran a wet tongue over his full lips, eyelids drooping ‘til he was looking at Draco through mere slits, one hand inching into the opening of his jeans as the other wound through his own hair, pulling slightly.

“Do you feel the soft skin of your cock? Run your hand up it, lightly. Don’t close your hand yet, just let your fingers caress over yourself. Feel everything there is to feel, every ridge and bump. Is the tip wet?” At Harry’s shaky nod he went on, “Use your thumb, rub it into the tip, get it nice and wet with your come and then suck it off. I want to watch you do that. You’ll look so sexy.”

Harry gave a shuddering moan and complied, back arching as his thumb grazed the sensitive tip of his pulsing cock. When the digit was fully wet, he raised it to his mouth and licked it, suckling it like a mini-cock, driving himself and his sexy partner wild.

“Now,” Draco said, voice cracking slightly, “stroke yourself. Slowly. Tell me what it feels like.”

Eyelids quivering, nearly sobbing in pleasure, Harry grabbed himself. He locked his gaze to the swirling green one in the floo, biting his lip as he caressed the silky skin of his balls before travelling up and running a single digit lightly over his heated foreskin. Head tossing on the sofa, he mumbled, “Good. Gods, Draco, it’s so good. But it’s not enough. I want you. Come through, please come through, and touch me. I need you.”

Green eyes flew open as he felt a warm hand wrap around his where it was languidly stroking his cock. He watched in amazement as Draco dropped to his knees in front of him.

Draco urged Harry to continue his strokes, keeping his pale hand firmly around the tanned one underneath it. He watched in fascination as Harry’s whole body came off the sofa, a muffled scream bursting from his lips. Pushing the brunet back down, he climbed up to straddle his hips, whimpering a bit as their joined hands brushed against his own straining erection.

“In dreams, we can be whatever we want. We can live without fear, and love without abandon. Only in dreams.” Draco looked at Harry, torment showing in his eyes and the furrow of his brow as he whispered, “I don’t ever want to wake up.”

He caught Harry’s open mouth with his, tongue diving in to taste and tease as he tightened his grip and increased the pace of their strokes. Suddenly he stopped and pulled Harry’s hand away, fighting him slightly as the green eyed boy was too dazed by passion to understand what he was doing.

“Shh,” he said, trying to bring him back down. He smoothed one hand over the skin of the tanned chest laid bare to his gaze through the open shirt.

“Draco, please,” Harry begged plaintively, body undulating against the hand dragging a path of fire along his skin wherever it touched.

Draco stood, swiftly stripping the clothes from his body. When he was totally naked, he attacked Harry’s jeans, pulling them roughly from his body. He placed wet, lingering kisses on the skin of the brunet’s inner thigh, loving the feel of the crisp hair against his lips.

When he was about to suck the erection standing so proudly between Harry’s thighs, the other boy moaned, “No.”

Looking up in surprise, silver eyes clashed with green. “Come here,” Harry gasped. “Together.” And somehow Draco understood what it was he wanted.

He pulled the other boy to his feet and bade him stretch out on the rug, his back to the roaring fire. When Harry was positioned the way he wanted him, Draco lay down on his side, lining their bodies up perfectly.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as their positions brought them flush against each other, naked skin rubbing provocatively, faces inches apart. He watched, mesmerized as Draco leaned in, rubbing his mouth along Harry’s parted lips. He felt wetness then, a tongue edging along the outline of his lips, so soft.

Their encounters to this point had been full of anger or simply the need to feel. This dream, and Harry realized now that this was indeed another dream, felt more like…something. An emotion he’d never felt before. He lifted his hand to cup a pale cheek, the skin so exquisitely silky under his fingers. But there was the fine scratch of stubble where his thumb brushed. He could live forever on the sensations lying under his one hand.

But there was more. There was the feeling of feet entwining with his, a knee nudging against his own, slipping between his thighs. A hand on his side, just above his hip, the fingers tracing small designs that were determined to drive him out of his mind. Breath ghosting over his lips as Draco continued in his taste explorations. It was as if he felt the need to memorize every bit of this moment as much as Harry did.

He wasn’t able to hold back long. As he catalogued every sensation, he gave a sudden nip at Draco’s tongue, drawing a startled laugh from the blond. Silver eyes sparkled at him, the fire behind him making them nearly translucent.

“No more teasing,” he whispered. “I want you.” Truth between them now, nothing else.

A slow nod was his only response.

~*~

Snape was astounded at the words he heard pour forth from his student’s mouth. Astounded and aroused. He shifted slightly as Draco went silent, his normally pale and tautly aristocratic features softening in passion. A few moments later, he nodded languidly, a shadow of normal movement.

Then he started moaning low in his throat, just before a red mark appeared on the previously flawless skin on his neck.

~*~

Harry smoothed a hand down the pale column of Draco’s throat, the skin there begging to be kissed. Not wanting to deny himself, he leaned forward and licked a small spot. When that didn’t give him the reaction he was looking for, he drew the skin into his mouth, sucking a bit harder than necessary.

Draco lost all sense of composure when he felt Harry’s lips at his throat and when the brunet began suckling he found he could no longer hold back his moans. He plunged a long fingered hand into the thick mass of unkempt hair, holding Harry’s head in place as his wicked tongue lavished affection on the sensitive spot.

Not to be outdone, he brought his other hand into play, smoothing it up along Harry’s muscular torso. His questing fingers found one of the tiny, hard nubs of flesh on the deliciously defined pectoral muscles, and pinched it gently.

As he did that, Harry bit down and growled slightly, showing how much he enjoyed it. Draco, unthinking, lost in pleasure and passion, turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead, directly over his scar.

~*~

Harry came awake with a gasp, hand immediately going to his forehead. He blinked up at the ceiling of his dorm, wondering at the meaning of the dream he’d just had. He was still hard and aching, but knew that his hand would not bring him the relief he needed. He needed the touch of a lover. He needed…Draco.

Jumping from his bed, he quietly grabbed his Invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map, and made his way swiftly to the hospital wing, where the bubble labelled “Draco Malfoy” slept on.

~*~

Snape watched as Draco’s head tossed on the pillow for a moment, the blond’s face showing turmoil.

He tried once again to use Legilimency and was finally successful. The dream he intruded on was a normal one, where the dreamer searches through a limitless corridor in search of a missing object.

Realizing that whatever it was that was affecting Draco was not in appearance, he decided to go back to his own rooms to sleep, leaving the blond to finish out his night in peace.

~*~

Harry watched the Snape bubble leave the hospital wing from down the hallway, making sure the man was travelling the opposite direction, before he quietly slipped into the silent hospital room. Swiftly he moved to the bed on the end, the one he knew Draco was sleeping in.

When he got there, he took a moment to study the boy who, until recently, he’d counted as an enemy. He reached a shaking hand out to smooth the nearly white hair off the smooth forehead, and watched in amazement as Draco’s features relaxed at the touch. He’d never seen anyone who looked so beautiful.

Draco’s eyelids fluttered as a touch pulled him from suddenly unpleasant dreams. As he woke, he knew who was with him before he even opened his eyes. It was Harry, his scent, his hand. Draco knew them both intimately. His entire body stiffened at that wayward thought.

His eyes snapped open and narrowed on the disembodied hand hovering in the air by his head.

~*~

Hermione woke to a high pitched twittering next to her ear. Prising her sleepy eyes open, she looked over and found Pig hopping up and down on her nightstand. “What the--?” Dread grew in her heart as she shakily untied the scrap of parchment from the bird’s leg. The last time he had shown up in the middle of the night, Harry had just gone through his worst dream ever, Voldemort and the Death Eaters torturing and killing an entire orphanage.

Hermione,
Harry’s gone.
Ron

Oh, she was going to kill her boyfriend when she found him. What kind of a note was this? Where did he go? Did Ron know? What the hell was going on?!

Pig twittered loudly once more, seeming to tell her to go find Ron and get her questions answered. Throwing her housecoat on over her nightgown, she rushed out of the girl’s dorm and down to the common room where Ron was pacing worriedly before the fire.

“This is supposed to be a note?!” she hissed.

“Well, I wanted you to come down, and I knew if I put anything else in it, you’d sit up there analysing it forever, now didn’t I?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and asked quietly, “What happened?”

“I heard him moaning again—“

“What do you mean, again?! He’s been having bad dreams and you haven’t said anything?!”

“Well, they’re not always bad dreams, or that’s what he said. Anyway, he was making noises and then I heard him get up and leave. And he took the cloak and the Map, so I couldn’t go after him. I’m really worried about him. What if You Know Who is hurting him again?”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron, giving and receiving comfort as they both gave in to their worry over their friend. Gathering herself, Hermione pushed back, setting her features in a stern mask as she prepared to grill Ron.

“I want you to tell me everything that’s been happening, Ronald Weasley. Don’t you leave anything out, you understand me?”

“Well, the first night I noticed anything wonky was the night I told you about last week, when he was screaming ‘Malfoy’ in his sleep…”

~*~

Harry stumbled through the halls, not caring if he made any noise nor bothering to consult the map. He didn’t care anymore if Snape or Filch caught him. His heart felt as if it had shattered into a million pieces.

He didn’t recall much of the trip from the hospital wing, but soon enough he was standing before the portrait of the Fat Lady, giving the current password, “hyacinth blooming”.

He nearly missed seeing Ron and Hermione, the image of Draco’s face twisted into a mask of rejection superimposed over everything else. Hermione’s sharp gasp snapped him into focus however, and he whipped his head around to see his two best friends standing in the middle of the common room looking extremely worried.

“Harry, where’ve you been, mate?” Ron asked.

“Just walking. I…had a bad dream. Nothing related to the war, just a regular bad dream.” Harry laughed, the sound one of choked pain. “A regular bad dream. That’s almost funny, isn’t it? I have to catalogue my dreams, now.”

Hermione made a sound of distress and walked quickly to Harry, wrapping her arms around him, offering the comfort of a loving embrace.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Talk to us, please! I know you’re in pain,” she said, tracing the salty path of a dried tear. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

“There’s nothing you can do beyond being my friend, ‘Mione,” he mumbled, burying his head in her bushy mane and trying to hold back his sobs until he could crawl once again into the safe, silent haven of his bed.

“Always, Harry. Always your friend,” she promised, voice clogged with her own tears.

Ron cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Hey, Harry, I love you, too, but you mind not groping my girlfriend in front of me?”

Harry and Hermione broke apart with a laugh before Harry pulled Ron into a bear hug and dipped him low, teasing, “Why Ron, I do believe you want me for yourself!”

The trio spent a few minutes teasing and laughing with each other, renewing their spirits with their deep bond of friendship that had grown strong and solid over their seven years together.

Harry looked at his friends, and once again thanked whoever was responsible for bringing them into his life. He would have gone mad long before now if it hadn’t been for these two. Sure, they’d had their ups and downs, but he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

~*~

When the sun rose that morning, waking the other inhabitants of the school, one student rolled over with a frustrated groan, wondering why the spell wasn’t working. The one on whom it had been cast should have responded to it by now. He should be dreaming of his perfect lover, but for some reason he seemed to be having particularly horrible dreams now, dreams that left him dazed and apparently shaken.

The spell caster picked up a book, old and used with an inscription that read: Property of the Half Blood Prince…

TBC