Hope in Love.

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DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be loaded. Since I am not loaded, we can only assume that I don't. Also, my name isn't J.K Rowling, or I'd have stolen all the cheques that she's recieved by now.

This story sees my return from an all-too-long dry spell. This return can only be credited to one person, my dear friend Serenitas.

Keshu

More to come soon!


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Faith in love.

I’ve always loved him. I’ve always wanted him. I’ve always watched him from afar, watched, my insides writhing with jealousy, as he spent his time with others, fucking away the precious seconds of his beautiful life in groans and sweat and illicit touches of pleasure in lost rooms. I’ve always been on my guard, watching as the enemy I desired so much was torn further and further from me.

In a corridor one day, between lessons, my bag split with such efficiency that it was like I’d suddenly been hit with a spell. Bending down to pick up sheets of jet-black-spattered ivory parchment and rescue my quill before it was trampled by hoards of students, I was violently pushed sideways as someone walked into and almost over me. Rubbing my shoulder, I glanced up… and met his eyes. For a second, we stood there, locked in place. And then, as quickly as it had been cast, the spell broke and the relentless tide of black robes washed over us and broke our gaze.

From that moment it was like I’d contracted a fever. I paced like a restless lion, I couldn’t stand still, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t relax. The heat in his gaze, whether I had imagined it or not, filled my body to an extent where I felt that, had anybody been unwise enough to touch me, to kiss me, to run their fingers over me, crimson sparks would have erupted from my skin. I longed for his touch.

I took to pacing that corridor, my mind filling with possibilities should I run into him, of what I would do, of what I would say, whether I would do or say anything at all. I believe I was so intent on staring at the chipped and uneven flagstones without even seeing them, mind so alight with heated visions, that I didn’t even notice he was standing there until he spoke.
“Waiting for me, Potter?” he asked, and I couldn’t quite meet those beautiful silver eyes. He spoke as if he already knew the answer to his question, and when I finally plucked up the courage we Gryffindors are so renowned for and looked deep into those tantalising silver depths, I saw that he knew I knew he knew. I remained silent.
“Potter?” he asked again, his voice slightly softer now, as he tilted his head slightly and tried to peer under the heavy black fringe of my hair. I dropped my head further and closed my eyes in feigned coquettishness, waiting to see what he would do.

I think that the minute he touched my searing skin I was lost to him forever. I tried not to breathe as he curled delicate pale fingers around my jawbone and lifted it gently to peer into my eyes, less he realise that I would have done anything for him then and there, less he realise that my breathing was so heavy it was almost painful. He tilted my head back and tentatively ran a slightly calloused thumb over my lower lip, and I couldn’t help but notice, even though my eyes were half closed from lust, the way his hand trembled.

I kept my eyes closed and tried my utter hardest not to nuzzle his hand as he drew closer to me, so close I could smell him. He tilted my head back further still and brushed his lips against mine. My eyes flew open at that point, and my brain fogged instantly, and I was struck dumb that he was kissing me so softly, so gently. He curled his fingers round my neck and laced them together, pulling me even closer, pressing his body full length against me. He began to kiss me faster and my pulse began to race around my body, and I was almost embarrassed at how hard I was, how hard I had become the minute he touched me. He moaned softly into my mouth as he slipped an unexpected hand between us and began running his fingers up and down the bulging material of my uniform trousers.

I sighed his name into his mouth as he deftly undid the zipper and slipped his hand inside to caress me. He drew back, a look of faint surprise in his eyes.
“What did you say?” he asked. I replied that I wasn’t sure, that I didn’t know, my voice low and husky from lust.
“You called me Draco. You’ve never called me Draco before.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything. All I knew was that I felt like someone had injected me with Pepper-Up Potion and then set me on fire. I needed his hands, which soothed my lust and slaked the thirst of my skin, yet left more heat in their wake. He brought his hands up to my face, leaving me unzipped, and trailed his fingers down the sides of my neck and onto my chest, watching my eyes intently, studying me, waiting for a reaction, a flicker. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, whether to look into the endless depths of his eyes, whether to close mine yet again and wait once more for him to take the lead. I felt as if I was lost in the mists of need and lust and love and want that were swirling in rainbow colours through my head. I felt rudderless. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I let it out slowly, and opened my eyes even slower.
“Well?” he asked, his voice exactly the same. I swallowed deeply.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked him.
“Tell me something.”
“Something?”
“Anything.”
“I….I can’t, Draco. I can’t tell you what I’m thinking. Not...not at all” I said, my voice trailing off uncertainly. He kissed me again, just another brush with his lips. He brought his mouth to my ear.
“Please tell me,” he whispered, in a voice so low that it made me shiver violently to hear it.
“You’d laugh at me,” I replied.
“I won’t. I promise. Please.”

He began to nibble gently at my ear lobe and slipped his slim hand into my trousers again. I ld agd against the nearest wall and put my hand flat against the cold of the rough stone. I closed my eyes, and felt him begin to stroke me again, his fingers sliding smoothly up and down my flesh.
“Oh gods,” I moaned. “I… I’d do anything for you, Draco.”

And then, suddenly it all stopped. He began to move away from me, began to take his hand out of my trousers, and an unwelcome draught of cold air sliced between us like a guillotine. I stared at him with large, almost frightened eyes, stared at him as he stood back from me a few inches, stared as he stared back fiercely into my eyes. for a moment, all was still, and I dared not breathe as we stood there, transfixed by each other. I bit my lip.

“Really?” he asked. His voice wasn’t incredulous at all. It had a sound in it I’d never heard before though, in all our fights, in all the times I’d heard him bragging to his friends, in all his answers to Snape’s questions in potion class. His voice was quiet, and low, and for a brief second he sed led like a lost boy, desperately seeking something, be it a mother, a familiar landmark or a welcome pair of loving arms.

I nodded.

He pushed me back against the wall, fumbling by my hips for the door handle into the classroom behind us. He took me by the hand and led me through the door into the cold room beyond. He laid me down on dusty floorboards and began to kiss me again, stoking the fire within me once more. He bit my neck and I gasped in pain and instinctively reached up to check that he hadn’t broken the skin. He batted my hand away impatiently and bit me again, his teeth bruising the muscle hard, making it hurt every time I moved my head. He undid my robes, his hands incredibly quick with the fastenings, and bared my chest. He bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth and bit it so hard that I inhaled sharply through my teeth. He pushed my undone trousers under my hips, and pulled them off my legs and threw them away into a dusty corner somewhere.

I writhed, my body twisting like a dying snake, stifled moans ripping up my throat and through the hand I’d pressed down on my mouth to stop them. I tried to rid him of his clothing, but he gently pushed my hands away and removed it himself. I remember my mouth practically watering as he slowly slid the heavy fabric off his slim shoulders, revealing his pale and unblemished skin, his jutting hipbones. My breath kept catching in my throat as he removed his underwear, exposing taut buttocks and a hard cock.

He leaned down over me and pinned my shoulders to the floor, kissing me again and again, pressing his smooth ivory skin against my rough tan, and pressing his erection against mine with the slick on skin on skin. We both moaned in union, and he began to slide his hand over my body again, leaning all his weight on my shoulder to keep me pinned, holding me back against the rough stone so firmly that it hurt. He gave my cock a few desultory tugs, almost half heartedly running his hand up and down the length, and then slid his hand between my legs, easing them apart. My breath hitched in my throat as he ran his fingers around that ring of muscle, then eased one slowly inside me. He soon joined it by another, and beads of sweat began to form on my skin as something inside of me began to burn hotter than anything I’d ever experienced before. I moaned again, but the sound came out of my mous ths the mewling whimper of a kitten. He pulled his fingers out, and stuck them into his mouth, coating them with saliva, so that when he removed them from his mouth, I could see fine strands like a spider silk between his long, shining fingers. He unceremoniously rubbed them on my entrance, dipping inside me again, and hooked his arms under my legs, lifting them up to my chest.

For a minute, I looked at him, totally open, totally exposed. And then he slid his cock, in one swift unmerciful push, inside me to the hilt. And my skin went hot and cold in patches. I cried out in pain and pleasure and need, and he withdrew and thrust roughly into me again. Energy fairly crackled over us, pale and tan, as we moved together, my breath coming in gasps and moans in the shape of his name, his silver eyes half closed and dark from lust, my skin shining now with sweat, his skin moving against mine, my eyes rolling back in my head in pleasure, his face almost contorted, my body consumed, his body on fire, my soul his and him inside me. I moaned every time he thrust into me, and he thrust into me every time I moaned, and then I was bucking and jumping and he hissed my name as he shuddered deeply and for a minute lost control, as did I, as we both collapsed against each other, exhausted.

As I tensed to say something, he reached out with a trembling hand and moved an overly long lock of hair out of my eyes.
“Don’t say anything. Just don’t,” he whispered to me, and then kissed my bruised lips with his own.