Potter Pan

Special Magic and Pastimes
Warning: Sexual Situation, Under 18


That was the first day he felt it. That subtle pull from somewhere deep within. He dragged himself to his feet and washed away the fear. It squared his shoulders and steadied his hands as he wrapped them about Draco’s shaking arms. Somehow he managed to find the will to smile even as the Dementors came closer, their gaping mouths sucking hoarsely at their despair. In the permanently dim light Potter looked like a hero.

A mad cackle bellowed through the dark forest around them, Neverland never short of trees no matter where you turned or how dark the magic ran. Potter knew that laugh; it haunted him in his dreams, the few ones that turned bad. It sent chills through him, chills that had nothing to do with the cold. It echoed off of the peeling bark and swallowed them with its hollowness. He felt the body in his hands quake and as his eyes met gray he felt a sudden spell of possessiveness overcome him.

Arms slipped around Potter and tugged him close and he realized he was the armor for this knight. He was the confidence and he would have to take the blows, separate the soft pale skin from the harmful violence of the unknown.

“Daring aren’t we, Pan,” said a voice so cold both boys could feel it. “Wandering in my land without your little fairy. And, oh, what is this? You’ve brought a friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before. So pretty.”

Draco pressed forward into Potter. “Get us out of here! Get us out of here now!”

“Hook,” Potter hissed, his eyes hard as they scanned the darkness. He took a step forward and then another. He stumbled over raised roots but he kept his feet moving until he had to swing Draco around and onto his back so that he could properly run. He gritted his teeth together and tucked his arms beneath Draco’s clenching knees. He could feel the boy shaking against him.

“Run, run as fast as you caaaaan,” the voice mocked with a vicious laugh.

“You’ll never catch me, I’m Potter Pan!” Potter called out, as the ground seemed to disappear beneath them. Adrenaline seized him and he clutched at it, using it to force them out of the gloom, away from the Dementors still sucking hungrily in their wake. He thrust off of the ground, feeling his stomach flutter as he was airborne....

And crashed to the ground. Potter picked the both of them up hoping he hadn’t seriously injured Draco but not having enough time to stop and check. He couldn’t fly. There wasn’t enough joy. The Dementors were sucking at him; he could feel the strings of his pain pulling him back as his physical body fought to keep going. He couldn’t let those monsters get them. Especially not Draco.

He pushed forward, hopping like a gazelle over the protruding roots. Trees seemed to gather together, purposefully making it hard to escape. The spaces in between the wide trunks grew smaller and smaller and the effort it took to get through without much physical damage was slowing them down tremendously. The tricky thing about this forest was that you never knew when it ended until you burst through the Other Side. Sometimes you were running in circles, sometimes you were running in deeper and sometimes you were running along the edge of the Other Side, sometimes all you had to do was turn left or right and you’d be out but you wouldn’t know and you’d keep running, forever skimming the edge of freedom.

But Potter knew his way around this forest. He knew Neverland like no human had known it before. He knew where he was going and he would get them out.

Something cold and slimy touched the back of his neck and he realized that the grip of Draco’s legs was loosening. He whipped his head back and saw a Dementor hovering over them, touching Draco, dark mouth agape, the edges billowing. The blond was barely hanging on, he was losing hope. “Draco! Stay with me!” The legs jerked and tightened, arms clutching tighter to the adventurer. “We’re going to make it!”

A Dementor flew in their path and Potter couldn’t avoid it.

They would crash headlong into it; there was no way of stopping it. No way of…

CRASH!

In a tumble of arms legs and various textures, the three of them tumbled out and into the light of the Other Side of Neverland. Potter rolled off of Draco and sprang up, his powers finally coming back to him as the light brought him happy thoughts. A black streak whipped past them and back into the opaque barrier that divided the light and dark.

Potter was sure it was a Bogart.

Panting heavily, Pan turned toward Draco.

The blond was curled in himself, shaking and making little whimpering sounds, hands flexing in his usually tame blond hair. Now it was thick with sweat, dirt and forest. Potter collapsed next to the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder, jumping along with Draco as the boy pulled away from the touch.

“Draco, it’s just me,” Potter whispered, his breath evening out. “It’s just me, we’re safe now. They’re gone. Those things can’t get us here. Are you hurt?” He rubbed soothingly at the blond’s back.

Pale limbs unfolded and Draco’s smudged face came into view, tracks of clean skin marking the trail of his tears. “N-no. I’m fine, just a b-bit shaken.” His eyes were wide as saucers—not that Potter knew what those were—and wet. His skin felt cold and clammy and was paler than usual. “Potter, never take me back there again. Please.”

Steady arms enveloped the shaking boy and Potter sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go all pear shaped. I won’t take you there unless you ask next time. I just wanted to show you where Hook lived, the evil man who’s spying on us.” He swallowed and felt a bit of warmth spread throughout him as Draco leaned into him. He chuckled. “I think it’s time for a bath though. We’re filthy now.” Hermione would have a fit if she saw them. She had no doubt ordered the other’s to bathe once they’d left that morning.

Draco pulled back with a small smile. “I agree. We stink.”

↕+↕+↕

Potter watched between the tall grasses as water ran down pale skin and flickered in the sun. Strange things were happening to his body, things that he had never experienced before; a deep smoldering heat gathering in his stomach. He watched the droplets turn gold as they caught the light, slipping down shoulders, over spine, dipping between the valley of supple flesh that was Draco’s arse.

Draco moved slowly with care. At this angle Potter could see just a hint of the calm on Draco’s face. He could see the hooded eyes, unsuspecting of Potter’s own traversing down his exposed body. He could see his lips. He’d never laid eyes upon anything so stimulating, so beautiful. He felt, as he stared at the boy washing, like he couldn’t breathe. His heart beat heavy and fast in his chest and his whole body felt alive and aware.

Potter shivered as the cool water rushed over and through the ‘V’ of his thighs, brushing lightly at his groin.

His groin.

He looked down at himself and gasped at what he saw; red flushed skin wet with water and solid with blood, peaking out of a ring of retracted skin. A clear pearl of fluid sat on the tip of his length, a substance he had never seen before. Never had he witnessed himself like this. The sensations going through him in that moment were indescribable.

As he glanced back up at Draco, who was still oblivious of his gawking, he felt the rigid flesh give a tortured jerk. He flinched, shoulders hunching, knees bending as his hands flew to the stretched skin, dripping more of that clear fluid.

The moment hands touched his length he knew that whatever he was experiencing was unnatural. There was no way it was normal to feel this sort of pleasure, this sort of ache. He drew in a sharp breath and sunk lower into the water until his hands were submerged under its cool waves.

The palm of his right hand pressed the hot length into his quivering stomach, the very tip of it breaching the surface exposing the hypersensitive area to the scarce breeze. His left hand cupped lightly at the sagging flesh beneath the hard length and he bit his lip to stifle a moan as electricity skipped up and down his limbs.

“What is this?” he choked out as his hands began to move, pulling and shifting with careful fingers. Heat stained his cheeks a deep red. He moved his right hand up, palm brushing accidentally over his head bringing out a strong shock of pleasure that made the thick heat in his hand pulse with something animalistic. His back arched and the next moan came out unbidden.

The sound shocked him enough to remind him of Draco, of where he was. He blinked, hands stilling in their sensuous movements, and looked around for his angel. Draco wasn’t where Potter and last seen him washing. Worry sprang forward and he could feel the taunt skin in his hands softening. Had Hook gotten to him? Had the wretched man somehow snatched Draco up while Potter wasn’t paying attention?

Forgetting about his clothes and forgetting about his newly discovered pastime, Potter burst up and out of the stream, scrambling for the grassy bank. “Draco?” he called pulling himself up and casting his worried green eyes all about him. “Draco?”

He ran towards the wall of vines where they had hidden their clothes. “Draco!” He forced himself through the thick plants, panic finally winding its fingers around his previously heated insides. Now they ran cold with fear, twisting and turning. It was funny how he was more afraid now than he had been in the forest. “Draco,” he yelled, “Dra—” He stumbled to a halt, wet hair slapping against his forehead, water flying everywhere.

Draco stood on a pile of green silk in the clearing, hands balled and pressed firmly into his sides. Wide gray eyes connected with Potter’s, the blond’s mouth hanging open almost comically and he held that pose, frozen into place with cheeks blossoming in embarrassment.

Silence.

Draco was wearing Potter’s clothes, the pair of skin-fitting overalls he had fashioned out of forest scraps that slashed deeply across his chest, exposing half of the tanned skin to the world. On the blond the material hung loose in places and the only strap that held the clothing up had slipped from his shoulders, causing more of his skinny chest to be revealed. Draco stood in the same confident posture that Potter always took up when ordering people around or showing bravery.

Draco had been imitating Potter. There was no other explanation.

Suddenly the silence was broken. Potter’s laughter rang out around him as he fell to his knees, one hand pressing against his chest while the other flew out to catch his weight before he smashed face first into the ground. Potter wasn’t sure what he found particularly funny, maybe it was the image of Draco trying to be him or maybe it was the way his clothes didn’t quite fit the angel’s small frame.

It was clear that his laughter was getting to Draco if the pale boy’s sharp gaze and thinning lips were anything to go by but that only seemed to fuel Potter further into his manic laughter. It seemed minutes had passed and soon Potter found himself lying on his back, heavy breathing only interrupted periodically with bursts of lingering laughter. Somehow he managed to calm down and he lay there, fingers flexing against the forest floor, blinking up at the thick canopy, and smile still firmly in place.

“Done now are you, Potter?” A cold voice asked from somewhere out of Potter’s field of vision.

Draco stood, his arms crossed over his exposed chest, eyes slatted in anger. Potter cleared his throat and giggled a few times even though the boy’s voice reminded him eerily of Hook’s. He finally succeeded in schooling his features into something calm and reasonable.

“Draco, I’m sorry it’s just—” his voice wavered with the effort it took not to laugh. He sucked in a breath and tried again. “It was just unexpected,” he explained suddenly feeling very sober. “I was afraid, when I didn’t see you, that somehow Hook had snatched you up.” He ducked his head, fingers picking absently at the grass beneath him. “So I ran looking for you and then I found you dressed in my clothes and I just… I was so relieved. I guess I got a bit carried away.” He chuckled shyly and glanced back up at Draco.

The pale foreigner looked a lot less fierce than before and Potter watched him warily as he stepped closer. “You were worried about me?” Draco sounded just as wary as Potter felt.

The dark-haired boy nodded enthusiastically. “Worried sick. I even lost—” He cut himself not only because he knew what had happened to him earlier when he looked at Draco was abnormal, but because he… he didn’t know what to call it.

“Lost your what? Breakfast?” Draco supplied.

Potter went with it. “Yes, I was so worried.” He pushed himself off of the ground, righting himself in the air until he was vertical again.

Draco flushed brightly and glanced away. “Um, you’re… naked.”

“Hum?” Potter looked down at himself and then did an odd thing where he nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Yes, I am.”

Draco glanced at him, his brow wrinkling in a way that suggested Potter was crazy. “Shouldn’t you put something on?” He asked hastily, his hand gesturing toward all of Potter’s naked glory without really looking at him. His cheeks flushed harder.

“Well you see I am at a sudden loss for clothes…” Potter smirked teasingly as Draco forgot to be embarrassed and glared.

The glare almost immediately melted away and Draco was back to being shy. He ducked his head and fiddled with his fingers. “I was wondering… about that.”

“About my clothes?” Pan asked.

“Yes, those.” Draco coughed. “I was wondering…ifyouwouldmakemesomelikeyours.”

Potter threw his head back and laughed, “Wh-hat? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Draco glared, his hands clenching by his sides. “I said, I was wondering if you would make me some like yours.” He ground out.

Potter’s eyes sparkled. “All you had to do was ask, angel. I would have made you some.” He teased.

“Well, I did ask.” Draco snapped. “And don’t call me angel.”

Potter shook his head, still looking highly amused. “Testy, testy. Listen, if you give me my clothes back I’ll make you some just like them. Tink will have to help, though. I’m completely hopeless measurements.” He watched at Draco’s eyes lit up. Then they slipped and fell to Potter’s free bits.

The blond blushed again and turned away. “I’ll just take these off,” he murmured and stripped down to nothing. He snatched up his silk pajamas and tugged them on and handed Potter his clothes with more confidence now that he was dressed. His eyes never trailed lower than Potter’s wet fringe.

↕+↕+↕

Summoning Tink was easy enough, one high-pitched whistle—so high that only a fairy could hear it—and the bobbing creature zipped into existence. Getting her to make something for Draco was the challenge. When Potter had asked the favor of her the fairy had taken one look at the pale boy and refused with a serious of rapid jingles.

Said boy was sitting amongst a group of decidedly cleaner children, watching the argument with growing apprehension. Around him conversation flowed between the four children.

Seamus sniggered and elbowed Neville who slumped forward, hands fumbling with the knife and wood so that the blade dug deeper than he’d wanted, messing up the perfect curve he’d been working on since morning. The brunet scowled and shot a glare at Seamus that doubled as a silent ‘what do you want’. He followed the smirking boy’s gaze towards Draco and found the blond not paying the least bit attention to them at all. He was staring unabashedly at Potter.

“Neville,” Seamus whispered. Neville eyed the smaller boy warily his woodwork all but forgotten. “Doesn’t he have nice hair? It’s so fine and shinny. Don’t your fingers itch to touch it?” Seamus glanced at Neville, “You know I have a thing about hair.”

Dean looked up from the tattered hand of cards he’d been staring at. Ron who was also playing cards looked up as well. A slow smile stretched across Dean’s face and he cleared his throat. “And his teeth. They’re so white and straight. You know I have a thing about teeth.” His smile widened to expose his own which were a lot better off than most of children.

By this point Draco’s intense gaze had faltered a bit, eyes fluttering as he tilted his head toward their voices.

“His legs as well,” Ron added, the serious way in which he said it making it hard for the boys to keep a straight face. “I’ve not got a proper look at them but from what I’ve glimpsed…”

Draco shifted and finally turned to look at them, “I can hear you, you know.”

“Oh, we know.” Seamus said as he settled back on his hands, his short, thin legs folding in front of him. His gaze shifted from the blond to a now flushed Potter. The dark-haired boy’s arms were crossed over his partial exposed chest and his lips were pouting as his brow dipped. Seamus sighed and shook his head. “No one knows what Pan has a thing for, though.” Seamus saw Draco glance at Potter. It was so quick that he almost didn’t catch it but he had been looking for it.

“As far as we’re concerned, Potter has never had a thing.” Dean said wistfully. He dropped his hand, letting his cards fan out face up on the floor. Ron gapped and let out a grunt of protest before dropping down his own sad hand. Dean crawled the short distance to Seamus and rested his head in the boy’s lap. “Never been interested in Hermione, never glanced twice at the Patil twins.” Dean looked up at Draco, “they’re the head of a group of Native Indians that inhabit the southwest bit of the forest. Very nice lot, them.”

“I’ve heard rumors that Potter can never love.” Neville said staring down at the tools in his hands and not really seeing them.

“Rubbish!” Hermione settled herself down in front of Dean’s forgotten cards. “Pan loves us as much as he loves Neverland. He loves Tink, too, probably more than us.”

Draco felt a lurch inside of him at that. He looked back at the floating ball of light, his eyes slitting. There Potter stood foolishly arguing in vain with his best friend of… Well Draco wasn’t sure how long Potter and Tink had been together but it seemed like a very, very long time. He felt anger at the fairy and anger at Potter for arguing with the fairy when she obviously wouldn’t coincide on the matter. She hated Draco, the blond knew that much.

He stood, pale hands clenched tightly at his sides and marched over to the arguing pair not caring whether the others were watching or not. He didn’t care that he may have looked foolish. To him, the fairy’s refusal to make him a simple piece of clothing was degrading enough. “Potter,” he said sharply and his voice cut through the argument like a freshly sharpened knife. “She’s obviously not going to agree. Just drop it. I don’t need one of those stupid outfits anyway.” He shot a sizzling glare at the fairy. “It was a dumb idea to ask,” he said staring at the bobbing light. “Forgive me for being a bother.”

Feeling hot and irrational Draco turned and marched off towards the direction where he thought Potter’s room was. He wouldn’t be sure until he got there, if he ever did. But he was sure of one thing; his time here would be made horrible if Tink had her way.

Potter watched the livid blond stalk off and he felt his own anger rise yet again as he rounded on Tink. “All you had to do was say yes, Tink. All you had to do was sow the stupid edges. But you had to be stubborn.” Potter’s eyes softened and he searched the fairy’s face. “Why, Tink? Why are you being this way?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he turned and thrust up into the air, soaring after Draco and hoping he hadn’t ruined this adventure already.

The Lost boys and Hermione all exchanged glances with each other, worry not far behind their carefully aloof masks.

That was the first time Potter had ever talked to Tink like that, with so much anger in his green eyes.

↕+↕+↕

Narcissa pulled her long pale hair out of her pale face, her eyes avoiding the mirror as her fingers pulled and twisted the silky tendrils into a deep red tie. She combed her fingers through the luscious strands a few times without purpose and sighed deeply, the sigh of a troubled woman.

Around her the room smelled dank and old, as if no one had lived in it for years. That was, in fact, the case. Narcissa only came here when she needed to get away and that need had lessened and lessened as she had settled into the role of a wife and breed a child. She’d been so caught up in raising her only son that she didn’t have time to want other things.

But now that her love was gone and her husband was deaf to the truth, the need had sprung free like a feral thing and had swept her from the prim halls of Malfoy Manor. She had ordered Poppy to stay and look after her husband, make sure he did not do anything dangerous, or that threatened their social status once he found out that Narcissa was missing.

She just couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stay in that house and sleep with a man that practically told her she was crazy. Lucius had ordered her to pack her things and she had. She was getting help in her own peace, able to think without being suffocated by her husband’s dimness, or inability to see what was right in front of him. She wondered how long it would take for him to realize that this was no joke, that this was real and that Draco was gone.

She would be waiting when he finally understood. Poppy would instruct him to send a dove. They were especially trained to deliver small letters, and knew where her secret hideout was located.

Until then she would have to think and she would have to wait. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t very well go off to Neverland and search for her son. She hadn’t been there in…. In far too long. She was too old and the world had tainted her imagination far too much for her to be able to make it past those glorious constellations. She just hoped that Pan took good care of her only son. She just hoped that Draco would be back, and soon.

Something deep inside her knew it would be a while—things like this didn’t take just hours or days or even weeks. It took a long time to find out who you were. With parents hovering over you it was easy to be told what to do, easy to follow orders and never have to really, truly discover yourself. But when you were all alone with no rules and no grownups to tell you how to fold your napkin the true self-discovering really began.

Either you survived or you didn’t.


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AN: Just a question, was the little scene with Potter 'discovering himself' a bit out of place? Did it take away from the story? I'm trying to keep the same air about this whole thing while dropping in a few steamy parts. I found it a challenge to try to keep the "fairytale flavour". Please tell me your opinion, it would be greatly appreciated.

Update: Decided that I'll answer questions on the first page where I described my inspiration and all that. Just check up to see if your question is answered.