All I Ever Wanted

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write...are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


"All I Ever Wanted".....chap. 4 'Harry's Relief'


Five days had passed since the 'incident', and at surface glance all was well, but if one were to scratch just beneath that surface, one would find a chaotic swirl of emotions nearly ready to boil over.

Harry had had no idea that, having finally had sex, his body and mind would crave it more than ever. Saying no to water was easy when you didn't understand thirst, but now every minute of every day was like a desert, and like a flickering mirage oasis, came the tantalizing image of Draco Malfoy, slowly driving Harry insane.

Harry had thought the flashbacks would quit eventually, and he seriously doubted that Malfoy the Slytherin Slut was ever wracked by feelings like this. Harry had resigned himself to treating the whole incident as a painful lesson about the consequences of drinking, and he wanted to pretend it never happened. Maybe he could salvage his dream after all. Just carry that night with Malfoy to his grave.

It wasn't that easy though. In class, at lunch, in the library, at Hogsmeade...Draco appeared everywhere. Sometimes, Harry could feel those cloud grey eyes boring into him, and he would look about and find them, instantly breaking the connection as Malfoy turned away with a scowl or a disdainful sniff. Even when Malfoy was nowhere around, the visions and trickling memories of that night randomly interrupted Harry's concentration, and were the source of erections that positively ached.

This had to stop. Harry couldn't make sense of it, and really didn't want to. Malfoy may not be a Death Eater, but he was a vicious little brute. Like a poisonous flower, all charm and sweet perfume...until you touched it and it destroyed you. Whatever idle fantasies that may have crossed Harry's mind were always ended with the certainty that they were just that...idle fantasies and nothing more...well...certainty AND an inordinately large spatter of come and a few gasping breaths while his vision swam. They could never, never, never be anything more.

Ron was a good mate, and hadn't made any complaints about Harry's dwindling attention span, but Hermione was noticing his slipping ability to concentrate in class...and she wouldn't buy his excuses forever. This had to stop.

This morning's Potions class had been the worst yet, never minding Snape's usual loathing for Gryffindor in general and Harry in particular. Malfoy, for reasons known only to him, had decided to sit directly across from Harry with an evil smirk on his face. Harry had tensed up like he was on stage for all to see, sweating profusely and blushing for no apparent reason. It was all he could do not to run from the room, and even that would have risked exposing the nearly tent-like bulge under his robes!

He'd botched the ingredients for his and Finnigan's potion and melted the cauldron with the noxious mess he'd made of an only moderately difficult recipe. Snape's sarcastic drawl was still ringing in his ears.

"Oh, Potter, if you must grace my classroom with your illustrious presence...would it be too much to ask that you at least TRY not to mimic Longbottom's exploits? We haven't the need for them. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for both you and Finnigan and detention for Potter tonight. You may clean all the cauldrons...that is, if you leave any surviving."

At least that incident killed off Harry's rampant erection, but Malfoy had been just to his left, choking back laughter so hard that tears almost trickled down his cheeks. He didn't even look that spiteful, just terribly amused.

Shaking his head, Harry had left class with an air of hopelessness. When Malfoy passed him on the way out, so close to one another in the hall that they almost touched, the blond boy leaned in and Harry just barely heard the whispered comment. "Get it together, Potter, you're stronger than this and you bloody well know it."

With that discreet comment and an evil smirk, Draco was around the corner and gone into the crowd before Harry could register what had just passed. Friendly advice...from MALFOY? Of course it was easy for a soulless mercenary like Draco to just brush things off. After the hundredth bloke they probably all blended into one mushy memory. If Harry was having a tough time of it...well...there were good reasons!

He wasn't sure if he wanted to yell or take it as a kindness. He stood quivering and pent up in the hall until he regained his composure. Most shameful of all, his erection was back and demanding attention. The sight of Malfoy's pale, slender throat, as he'd turned that hall corner and glanced back at Harry with eyes that nearly smoldered, had pushed Harry over the edge into the realm of visions and daydreams.

Draco's unnaturally lithe body was astride him, and those soft hands were in his hair, holding his face, running down his chest while that flawless body flexed and ground against him, writhing above him and pulling him into that waiting warmth again and again. Tears streamed down the blond boy's cheeks. Harry pulled him close and kissed them away, never so lost in pleasure that he didn't want to give more to this beautiful creature above him. When Harry's hands clutched that narrow waist and pulled his lover down, close and tight, Draco's body suddenly shuddered and with a strangled moan he spilled his seed onto Harry's chest. With a rolling movement, Harry was on top of the gasping youth, covering him in kisses, licking the sticky fluid from his just sated member, then sliding into that waiting body again. With a slow determination, he began the long, deep thrusts that seemed to drive his partner into the heights of ecstacy. A confidence possessed him like he'd never known. He was a living key and this...this was the lock he was meant for. Shining up at him were cloud grey eyes, almost glazed with desire, brimming with tears of joy and lust, and a smile that spoke of endless promises and a gratitude Harry had never imagined.

This had to stop. Like a thunderclap, it struck Harry, and he knew what he had to do. He was almost an Occlumens. He'd practiced for almost two years when he had the chance. There were two Pensieves in Hogwarts. One in Dumbledore's office...and one just a few hundred yards or so away. Snape's suite. A little time with the Marauder's Map and his Cloak, and he could draw the memories out entirely, not destroying them, just containing them so he could function.

It was brilliant! Malfoy (of all people) had been right! Harry was stronger than this, and he did bloody well know it! The cure was within reach and he was free for the weekend after the rest of today's classes and detention. Just use the map to see when Snape left and just make a visit tonight or tomorrow. Flawless!

Harry took off down the corridor at a run. Advanced Charms was a few minutes from starting by now, and the rest of the day didn't look half as bad with relief only a day away.