Touching the Untouchable

Author’s note: Maybe it’s not a clever, one-word title, but it gets the point across. Now go indulge in some Harry and Draco-y goodness! (Merlin knows I’ve been requesting enough of it in my reviews of other stories.)
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Touching the Untouchable by Graballz Chapter 8 The Requisite Shower Scene


Albus dismissed Ron and Hermione to go back to Gryffindor with an announcement that he would be contacting the Ministry and St. Mungo’s about bringing in a professional to speak with them about what had happened, to help them deal with it and understand it, and to assist them in putting this whole ugly mess behind them. He knew that, in spite of everything that his three favorite students had endured, they had been stretched to the breaking point more than once, and he had no desire to push them to that edge again after such a short interim. Informing them of Harry’s attempted suicide would simply have to wait until later; besides, Albus was torn between allowing Harry the right to choose whether his friends should know and enlightening them as to the depths of distress in which his actions had buried him. The Headmaster had a cautious hope that Ronald might not be so unwilling to forgive his friend if he knew, while being mindful of Ron’s state of mind and mental health, as well as Harry’s.

Albus walked them downstairs, sending them on their way with a lemon drop, a smile, and a promise that dinner would be uneventful. Now there was the matter of his exploded gargoyle to attend to. The house-elves had dutifully cleared the debris out of the main hallway; they had piled the pieces of rock that had once been a statue against the walls so that the Headmaster could decide what to do with it. He recognized the work of the Reductor Curse. Harry knew the password to his office, which meant that it had to be Draco who killed the gargoyle in his rush to save Harry’s life. His weathered old face twisted into a wry smile; the statue had been around longer than even Albus Dumbledore, and it had to be very powerful magic indeed to make the gargoyle shatter. Ironically enough, it had happened out of necessity, not malicious intent or vandalism, even though the student who uttered it had caused enough of both back in his younger days. Albus drew his wand, a rather formidable wizard himself, and proceeded to use several Reparo spells before the gargoyle was fully put back together again. He patted it fondly, changing the password to a rather appropriate Latin phrase from Cicero, ignoscere divinum, or “to forgive, divine.”

Satisfied that his office was reasonably protected once again, Albus returned to clean the Pensieve. It was still full of Harry’s liquid memory, and the Headmaster seriously contemplated destroying them for Harry. He sighed with resignation, knowing that the boy would need to take the awful memories back into himself and wrestle with them, if he were to be truly alright after this. It would be a violation to sift through the boy’s memories, but Albus pulled a single solid thought that poignantly expressed the depth of contempt Harry had felt:

If I killed Voldemort only to turn into him…I don’t deserve to live!

He very nearly wept for Harry when he heard the whispering of his favorite student’s pained voice. He now understood a little bit better why Harry had chosen that particular course of action, but Albus realized that his decision to call in the professionals to deal with this type of trauma was a wise one.

Albus left the memories in the Pensieve for Harry to claim once he was rested. He did, however, dispel the strongest of the negative emotions with a finality that he hoped would be echoed in Harry’s own life, cleansing Harry’s memories without altering them. He made a quick Firecall to St. Mungo’s to request a special and temporary License of Psychology for a group of students at Hogwarts, forgetting that it was Saturday and the administrators wouldn’t be back in their offices until Monday morning, but the nurse he spoke with assured him that it shouldn’t be a problem and it would be owled out Monday afternoon. Generally the paperwork for such a License would take a few days at minimum, but the nurse agreed to get started on it that very day and to have it ready by Monday for her supervisor to sign, due to the fragile nature of the students involved.

Albus then sent an owl to the home of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, two of his close associates. He knew that they would not be at work, since it was the weekend, and Nymphadora was not enough of a rebel as to refuse to relax on her days off! He chuckled, remembering her sprightly antics as a student here at Hogwarts, and it did his heart good to see the two of them together. Tonks was one of the best Aurors the Ministry could have, and Remus had worked closely with the Order in the heat of the war. In the months since Voldemort’s defeat, Tonks had continued as an Auror, and Lupin had a contracted agreement with the Order to finish all of the paperwork and miscellaneous loose ends. Albus suspected that Remus’ contract was winding down, and he hoped that the couple would be free to assist him.

Having been forced to resign as Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the end of Harry’s third year, Remus had continued to work with the Order while studying the Muggle subject of Psychology at St. Mungo’s, achieving the equivalent of a Ph.D. and had written his thesis on how the Muggle subject applied to the wizarding world. Tonks was never one to continue down the same path for long, and though she never gave up her job as an Auror, she earned a Ph.D. in Psychology as well, following Remus’ lead with her dissertation. Albus knew that the two of them made a very impressive team when faced with the terrors held by the mind, whether it be Muggle or wizard. If anyone could help these kids, it would be Tonks and Remus.

The owl returned shortly with the expected affirmative answer for therapy, as well as informing him that the couple would drop by Hogwarts on Sunday to see Minerva McGonagall, shocked and saddened to hear about her unfortunate condition. Albus was quite pleased with the way things were shaping up in the aftermath of such tragedy. He sent one more owl to Severus, requesting that he inform Harry and Draco not to come to the Great Hall for dinner, and that Albus would have the house-elves bring them dinner in their room, since no one wanted another confrontation. Once the owl returned, signaling that the request was fulfilled, Albus finished the last bit of light cleaning in his office, spelled the typical protection charms onto the door, and decided to swing by the Hospital Wing and allow Poppy to grab a bite of dinner while he kept an eye on Minerva before heading to dinner himself.

* * * * * *

Harry stirred first, finding himself cuddled in the Slytherin’s arms. It brought a smile to his face before he was even fully awake. He was very careful not to disturb Draco as he wiggled off the bed and crept towards Draco’s private bathroom. When he had finished his business, he decided to take a quick shower. He hadn’t bathed since Friday morning, before the party, and he was feeling slightly grungy. Harry stepped under the warm water, sighing as it sluiced over his tension-weary muscles. He turned his wrist upward and looked at the faint scar, knowing that he now had everything in the world to live for. Pushing all of the bad thoughts from his mind, he proceeded to fumble with the million and one bottles of grooming products. Harry picked up one bottle after another, reading the label, more and more confused. Hair-preparation treatment; shampoo; pre-conditioner; conditioner; body wash; facial scrub; moisturizer; and a mysterious emerald colored bottle with no label…Harry was beginning to think that Draco was worse than any girl he’d ever met! He settled for using the two names he recognized: shampoo and conditioner. He had never actually used conditioner before, but it was more familiar than the rest of the whatever-they-were.

He poured a small amount of the shampoo into his hand, fully intending to lather it into his hair. The smell wafted upwards and tickled his olfactory senses, bringing unbidden thoughts of Draco into his mind. Harry’s dick swelled instantly, and he realized that he was standing in the very spot where Draco bathed in glorious nakedness. The thought of a hot, wet, naked Draco was almost too much for Harry to bear, and without thinking, he began sliding his hand back and forth over his shaft, forgetting to breathe as the shampoo acted as a lubricant, making his wanking hotter than before. Naughty thoughts exploded in his head: rubbing himself along Draco’s side that morning; watching Draco slide a perfect hand down his own body and into his pajamas. In his mind, he heard Draco groan his name as the sexy blonde came in his pajama bottoms after wanking himself next to Harry; Harry’s breath came in short gasps as he stared sightlessly at the shower wall in front of him, imagining pressing the front of his body to Draco’s, snogging him senseless while their erections rubbed together; Draco’s pale and slender hands everywhere on his body…

Harry’s hips arched forward involuntarily as he came, sending string after string of come flying onto the shower wall, only to be washed away by the warm water that still rained down on him. His spine arched, head tipping backwards; his eyes were screwed shut, and his entire body shook with jolting pleasure as he emitted barely repressed whimpers.

“You were picturing me naked, weren’t you?” An amused voice drawled from the bathroom door. Harry flushed scarlet, peeking behind him. Sure enough, Draco was standing in the doorway wearing his infuriating know-it-all smirk, but Harry was too caught up in the afterglow to care. Draco slithered over to the shower, stepping in beside Harry. Despite having just reached satisfaction, Harry’s member pulsed, albeit sluggishly, at the sight of Draco starkers and IN THE SHOWER NEXT TO HIM! Without a thought, Harry leaned over and began kissing the full lips, wiping that smirk off of his face rather effectively.

* * * * * *

Draco let out a groan that communicated exactly what he needed at that moment, when Harry kissed him for the third time that day. He seemed to become more confident about kissing Draco each time, which Draco was more than happy about. Harry must have reached down inside himself for some Gryffindor courage, because he suddenly grabbed Draco by both arms, and before the Slytherin could think, Harry had swung him around so that he was no longer on the outside of the shower, his back pressed up against the still slightly cool tile, with warm water turning his platinum blonde hair slightly darker as it was drenched by the shower.

Draco barely had enough time to relish in the twin opposite sensations of cool (on his back) and warm (on his front) when Harry sandwiched him, left hand slicking back the soft blonde tresses, tanned right hand kneading into Draco’s pale and slim hip, and went straight for the soft spot just behind Draco’s jaw, teeth and tongue working in tandem to drive the writhing Slytherin over the edge. He might have been more debauched than Harry, and therefore had a higher degree of sexual self control, but the surprise of Harry’s forcefulness combined with his own strong desire for ecstasy after watching Harry’s lascivious masturbating pushed him frightfully closer. Draco fought valiantly, but as soon as Harry’s hand dropped from his hip to his stone hard member, wrapping a calloused hand around the aching shaft and giving a couple of full-length strokes, tanned flesh passing easily over Draco’s ivory skin due to the water, and it was no contest. Not of his own volition, Draco passed the point of no return, but he was not complaining in the least. His hands clutched at Harry’s tensing biceps as he cried out Harry’s name, feeling himself come all over Harry’s hand, his lithe body pushing against the lean and muscled one in sharp jerks.

He was barely aware that Harry had slowed the pace and was instead carefully pressing his lips to Draco’s jaw line at well-timed intervals as he held the shuddering blonde close, immersed in Draco and self-pride for being able to stun his obviously more experienced partner. That was the first time anyone had made Draco come; “made” being the operative word because Draco had tried to resist and utterly failed. While he hated failing, he couldn’t be upset when he felt this good. With a final quiver, Draco pulled himself to alertness, attuned to Harry’s hard-again cock. A knowing smile crossed the Slytherin’s lips; he knew exactly how to get Harry back.

He lifted his hands to frame Harry’s face, pulling him in for one more dose of sweetness, like the calm before the storm. Unexpectedly, Draco dropped to his knees and went from probing Harry’s mouth with his tongue to tracing small circles around the mushroom-shaped head of Harry’s cock. The breath caught in Harry’s throat as Draco’s lips surrounded his sex, bobbing his head. When Draco had woken up to an empty bed and a closed bathroom door, he had placed protective wards on the door to his bedroom before stripping and sneaking into the room to watch Harry jack off in the shower. The wards interrupted him just as he was about to deep-throat Harry for the first time; Draco made a guttural noise as he pulled his mouth off of Harry’s luscious cock. Harry twitched in response, blindly following orders as Draco took Harry’s hand, commanding him to continue to wank himself until Draco returned but not to reach orgasm.

Draco grabbed his silver and green bathrobe, shrugging into it, cursing as it stuck to his still-wet skin, and wrapped it in the front and cinched the belt. He ran a practiced hand through his hair, Accio-ing his wand, and opened the door. Snape stood before him and grunted with displeasure when he saw Draco’s wet form. He snapped Dumbledore’s instructions to remain in the room and call on the house-elves for dinner, glaring as Draco let out a snort of laughter, and stomped off. Draco shut the door, tears practically running down his cheeks as he guffawed at being told to stay in his room when he had no intention of leaving it anyway, when he remembered the sexy raven-haired boy who was teasing himself in the shower. Draco traded his wand for a small vial of his own concocting, retrieving it from the hidden compartment in his trunk—an edible, flavored lubricant—before peeling his robe off and returning to the shower.

Harry had done what he was told, not moving from his original position (facing the back wall of the shower). Draco enfolded him in a hug from behind, nipping at the back of Harry’s neck as his strong hands snaked around to Harry’s front and took over sliding along his stiffened length. He glided around; pausing to nibble at Harry’s tightened stomach muscles, savoring the smooth skin over taut muscle. Draco got down on his knees reverently, pouring a little of the lubricant onto his fingers, smearing it onto Harry’s penis, and quickly leaning forward to swallow the length before the shower washed the tasty liquid away. Harry alternated between deep breaths and gasping for air as Draco’s magical tongue massaged him to a new level of hardness, feeling a familiar tingling in his groin when Draco deep-throated him. He placed his palms on the wall, choking out a warning to Draco just before his member pulsed, spurting hot come into Draco’s mouth, who swallowed like the seasoned lover he was.

Draco disentangled himself, reaching for his bottle of shampoo. He squeezed a small amount onto his palm, rubbed his hands together, and began applying it to the hair on Harry’s head, giving him a gentle massage as he worked the shampoo into Harry’s scalp. He could feel Harry melting under his ministrations, loving the small moans that escaped those beautiful lips. He tipped Harry’s head back, gently rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and repeating with the conditioner. Draco had already washed his hair in his shower that morning, so he was more than happy to lavish attention on Harry.

“Oh sweet fucking Merlin!” Harry murmured, not sure if he would be able to continue standing for much longer. “Draco, you have no idea just how good that feels! Thank you, love; words can’t even describe…” The blonde’s fingers left his head and neck tingling. Draco put his hand behind Harry’s head, pulling it up and into a gratifying snog. He shut the water off and reached for a towel. Harry didn’t move, so Draco gently steered him into the bathroom proper, drying him without magic as he rubbed the fluffy soft towel over Harry’s well-developed body. The Gryffindor followed placidly as Draco led him back to the bed. He tucked Harry under a sheet and picked up his robe again. He called for a house-elf to bring dinner, per Dumbledore’s order, running a soft hand over Harry’s damp hair as the boy lounged, each smiling lovingly at the other. When the house-elves returned with a large tray of food, though, Harry perked up, and they devoured dinner.
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Author’s note: I would like to start by thanking Samayel (another author on this site) because if it weren’t for his traumatizing and abrupt end to Chapter 64 of “Redeem Me”, this chapter might have been rather slow in coming (haha pun intended…I’m bad like that.) My poor, feeble mind was shattered, so I had to slink back to my story to repair it, and look what came out of the deal! Yay for shower scenes! I also got hit with another burst of inspiration; I now have a much clearer idea of where I want the plot to go…so get ready!


Yami—I’m glad you like where it was going so far…once I got past Harry’s attempted suicide, honestly, I wasn’t sure myself what would happen. But now I have a better idea of a plot, so hopefully you will continue to like it…


thrnbrooke—THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I had written this chapter like Harry had spelled his memories back into his head, only leaving lingering traces behind (since he didn’t clean the Pensieve). Thanks to your astute observation (or perhaps well-timed reminder), I went back and reread my previous chapters, realizing that I did indeed leave the memories. It was fixed easily enough in this chapter without having to edit previous ones, and quite frankly, I’m a lot happier with it this way.


On that note, I have a quick technical question, for those who have read the books. If I understand the uses of the Pensieve correctly, it is used to revisit memories (for whatever reason) or it can also be used to store memories if one has too many bouncing around inside one's head? So using my story, because Harry put his memory of violating Hermione in the Pensieve to look at, but then didn't spell them back into himself, would he remember them?

Right now, I wrote it that Harry doesn't retrieve his memories from the Pensieve, but he still remembers what happens after he wakes up from being rescued because he finally explains to Draco what happened, so now Draco understands. (Chapter 6) If he remembers...then would he still need to retrieve the memories from the Pensieve???

Hmmmm, I shall have to think on this...I apologize, my readers; I might have quite possibly committed an error that might result in chapters being re-edited. *sigh* Any help in this department (explanations, possible solutions, etc) would be greatly appreciated.