Change My World

If things get real promise to take me somewhere else,
By the time fear takes me over will we still be rolling and feeling oblivion.
-- Turin Brakes

Denial, Draco decided as he opened his eyes that morning, was not working out for him. Having Harry Potter in his thoughts constantly wasn\'t exactly a change for Malfoy. However the way he was seeing the boy who lived was most definitely different. While before he thought of the way Harry looked while falling from his broom or when he was afraid of Dementors, now he thought about the way Harry moaned. He thought about his eyes, the way his lips moved when he sibilated his name, the way he felt burrowed deep inside of Malfoy\'s own-- \"I may be a fag, but I\'m not a bottom!\" Draco said aloud, muffled by the foamy toothpaste still in his mouth.

\"What?\" a very alarmed and no less sudsy Crabbe asked, dropping his toothbrush.

Surprised that he\'d spoken his thoughts; Malfoy\'s mind raced as he spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. \"I SAID, \'I might be a dag, but I\'m no Longbottom,\'\" he emphasized meaningfully.

\"Who called you a dag?\" Crabbe started.

\"Shut up, Crabbe.\"

\"But I thought-\"

\"Don\'t think, you\'re not good at it. Now spit out your suds, you look rabid,\" Draco snapped, turning his face away before anyone could see his blush. Denial was, indeed, clouding up his brain.

---

Harry was anxious about keeping secrets from his friends. But then again, this wasn\'t exactly the first thing he\'d kept from the duo. He still hadn\'t told them about the prophecy, not completely. How did you break that news to your friends? \"By the way, I\'m going to have to become a murderer to rid the world of Voldemort. And by the by, I\'m gay and having sex with Draco Malfoy. Hey, are those waffles?\"

Harry sighed as he allowed the water to run in long rivulets down his body and looked down at the full salute his erection was already giving at the mere thought of the blond. Swallowing hard he gave a quick glance towards the room, not that he could see through the curtain, nor the shut door into the room he shared with the other Gryffindors. It would be humiliating enough to be caught wanking, but to know that you were doing it thinking about what everyone assumed was one of your enemies? But then, how would they know what he was thinking about?

Harry was ready to stop when he felt his own calloused brown fingers tracing over the head of his length. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he looked again at the curtain, as if he could make out the figures of the other boys through solid objects. They\'d been asleep when he\'d gotten into the shower. But it was daybreak; they had to get up soon enough. However before he could put rational thought to it, he was stroking himself.

He thought of Malfoy. The way the Slytherin moved, the way he felt, god how his pale fingers darted in and out of his own pink orifice so effortlessly. How Draco\'s back had arched and those thin shoulders had writhed and his body flexed as Harry pushed into him. He remembered the arc of Draco\'s body edging towards him, the texture of the alabaster skin as Harry\'s fingers kneaded at it. The way his former rival smelled of lavender and lemons. Draco\'s semen, the bitter and salty fluid and how it spilled into and over his mouth, the warm coating of it over his face, the soft patina of it inside of his anus.

Harry\'s thumb stroked through his pre-come and back down his shaft as his other hand braced against the wall as he thought in abstractions of Malfoy. The look of surprise on the teen\'s visage when he\'d pressed the parchment into his hand and the subsequent brief smile. The way Draco\'s silvery eyes roamed over Harry\'s form when he thought no one was looking. The gentle way the corners of Draco\'s lips turned up when he realized Harry caught his gazing. His brain tried hard to picture Draco speaking to him, looking adoringly into his eyes and saying those words. The words he longed to hear. Harry, I love you, Harry. I lo--

Harry had a quick and depressing spurting release against the wall of the shower. His emerald eyes flashed open and he glared at the semen dribbling down the shower wall and then reached up to direct the spray at it. He watched his leavings disjoin and slide down the tile and into the drain. Love. Harry wanted to feel loved. He wanted to belong. Balling his hand into a fist, he smacked the pinky end of his hand against the moistened clay tile and then leaned in to let the water dissolve the tears of frustration prickling his eyes.

---

Draco couldn\'t sleep. Again. His mind wandered to Harry, wandered to the note buried deep into his trunk. No. He was not going to get that ruddy note out and fondle it again. The words were already practically polished off and it was only Saturday night. And that was the rub, wasn\'t it? No cacophony of snores at 10 pm on a Saturday night. No, even Crabbe and Goyle were out having fun and Draco Malfoy was lying in bed trying to sleep. Why? Because the more he slept, the sooner Wednesday would come around.

Did Draco Malfoy admit to himself that\'s what he was doing? Of course not. Malfoy had made excuses for his ill mood and constant sleeping that ranged all the way from Goyle\'s over eating making him nauseated, to Parkinson\'s cackling laughter giving him a migraine. Further, he simply couldn\'t tolerate hearing his gang going on about how unbearable Harry was. Not that it was their fault, really. Traditionally when Draco had been in a foul mood, picking on Potter had been one of the few things that would improve his disposition. Now, however, it just made him ashamed of how he\'d been behaving up to this point and filled him with a defensive irritation for those slaying the character of his lover.

Lover. Harry Potter was his lover? Well, what else could he be? As much as Draco had wanted to push it aside, he\'d been two days past deciding that denial was no longer working. Sadly, embracing his feelings in the face of such huge house rivalries and his own machinations made it impossible to do anything other than swirl about in his shame spiral.

In quiet moments while he was pretending to study or read, he\'d glance over his cronies wondering which would be the first to turn on him if they found out. Parkinson would go hysterical, he was pretty certain. He wondered vaguely if she\'d pull an Ophelia and go drown herself in a babbling brook. His brows rose as he thought about the Muggle-loving wizard Shakespeare. Perhaps he had the right idea. Go live amongst them and follow your own art. But Draco had no art. He was a Malfoy. That was all he was good at. It was all he ever was. And what he was and what he wanted were never going to mesh.

He gave brief thought to \"Romeo and Juliet,\" the most widely known of the wizard Shakespeare\'s plays. Amusing himself with stupid thoughts of Harry, the romantic and noble hero climbing up his balcony at the Malfoy Manor, he\'d just begun to picture Snape as the bellowing nurse when Nott sidled up to him and asked, \"What\'s so funny, Malfoy?\"

Draco hadn\'t realized he was snickering into his Potions book. Looking sourly from the book to Nott he sniffed, \"Just remembering that sick broth you tried to pass off as a proper Enlightenment Serum. When will your lips turn back to their normal color, anyways?\"

\"Fuck you, Malfoy,\" Nott hissed as he took his seat across from the blond and glared.

\"I keep telling you \'no\' Nott, take a hint. You\'re not my type,\" Malfoy spat back turned his attentions back to his book.

At the completion of that memory, Draco anxiously turned over in his bed, pulling his dark sheets up over the flaxen strands of rumpled hair. He tried desperately to sleep in this new and awkward position with his stomach against the mattress. Opening one grey eye, he peered up irritably at his heirloom silver clock. Snakes slithered around the illuminated dial showing it was just past 1 am. As if on cue, the room brightened momentarily as Crabbe and Goyle made their way in. Draco snapped his eyes closed and remained motionless.

\"Have you seen the way Potter\'s been checking Malfoy out? Disgusting, innit?\"

Great. Potter was so transparent even the goons had noticed. Brilliant.

\"Pansy says she thinks it would be sexy to watch them at it.\"

Ew. There were some things I never wanted know.

\"She was all over Nott tonight, wasn\'t she? Should we tell Malfoy?\"

Like I care.

\"I don\'t think he cares. He\'s distracted lately. Besides, she says she\'s going to hit on Potter, see if she can find out what\'s going on there. He\'s probably planning something against Malfoy.\"

Bitch. Fag hag. Cunt.

\"She\'s a whore.\"

\"Good shag, though.\"

...and back to things I never wanted to know.

The large boys bunged about a bit, and finally bumbled themselves into bed and fell asleep as loudly as humanly possible.

Is it Wednesday yet?

---

Harry walked fretfully through the corridors of Hogwarts heading down to his final detention with Hagrid. This had been the longest week ever. He\'d been short with Hagrid and he felt awful about it. It wasn\'t Hagrid\'s fault. No, actually in some ways it was his fault. They were still trying to care for Grawp, which was on top of other menial duties, beyond the scope of what Harry could realistically manage.

When Harry wasn\'t trying desperately to carry sacks of God knows what that were light to a half giant, but a nearly impossible burden to even drag for a human boy, he was trying to negotiate with a non-verbal giant that kept asking for \"Hermy.\"

\"I think ee\'s got a bit of er crush on \'ermione,\" Hagrid would point out.

\"That\'s umm... sweet?\" Harry tried as he looked up at Hagrid\'s brother trying not to think of just how that would work out..

But at least now he wouldn\'t have to deal with this for a while. He could get on with his regularly scheduled life and he had Wednesday night to look forward to. Provided that Draco showed up. They\'d traded a few glances, brushed a little too close now and then, but other than that, Draco had remained stoic. Harry realized he was being a bit needy and that he should follow Draco\'s example. However it was simply in Harry\'s nature to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even some of Malfoy\'s cronies had caught on to his lingering glances that led to a rather uncomfortable situation involving Pansy Parkinson.

Pressed up against the wall with Parkinson sneering at him and implying all manner of provocative and foul situations. Harry had never been more thrilled to see Ron in his life. Vaguely, he wondered for how long Pansy was going to remain bald. He was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a moment to register that he\'d heard the rustling of paper.

\"Who\'s there?\" Harry asked as he whirled around with his wand at the ready.

Again he heard the strange rustling, but it seemed nearer now. In alarm, Harry\'s eyes darted around, searching in vain for the source of the noise. \"Hello?\" he tried again.

Still nothing.

He looked up towards the ceiling when he thought he heard a noise from above, but there was nothing out of place there. His heart started to pound apprehensively as his eyes darted from side to side and then he looked to the ground.

The Gryffindor screamed as he felt something brush at his ear and his Seeker reflexes kicked in to snatch at whatever it was out of the air. Clenched in his fist was a piece of parchment that now appeared to be a mangled origami snitch. With shaking hands, Potter gently unfolded the note, which read, \"Is it fucking Wednesday yet?\"

\"Soon, Malfoy,\" Harry whispered to himself as he beamed, pocketed the note, and headed outside to Hagrid\'s hut with a bit more of a spring in his step.