The Compass

There was something happening to Draco. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t know why it was happening, and he certainly didn’t like it.

Every time he saw Potter, he felt his cock twitch. Every single time. As a result, every single time he set eyes on the Gryffindor, he went completely tense. His grey eyes widened, his face went pale and his body rigid.

He had never been so thankful for the robes that were part of the school uniform. Each time his prick stiffened and strained against his trousers, he made sure his crotch was hidden from view of everyone.

Whenever Harr—Potter walked past, Draco found himself staring at him. His cock seemed to be like a compass, as though it were designed to point Draco in the direction of Potter. It drove him crazy and it made him feel very confused – after all, Draco wasn’t gay! He wasn’t interested in boys!

Except for Potter. Well, his prick was interested in Potter, not him. He couldn’t help what his cock did! In fact, he had grown to despise his cock. He hated the way it shot up and stiffened the moment he caught glimpse of Potter.

He would have been happy to just continue hating his cock if it weren’t for the fact that he was also noticing Potter. Not just looking, but noticing. In the Great Hall, Draco found himself sitting at the table with a fork clutched in his hand, his cock as stiff as wood and his eyes peeled on Potter. His heartbeat always raced and his palms always felt sweaty as he sat there and gazed. He’d stare at the Gryffindor’s green eyes, his smile, how he shovelled food in his mouth, and that hair. Draco wasn’t gay, but he couldn’t help but want to be up close to Potter, staring into those eyes as their lips met, while running his fingers through his hair and—

He wasn’t gay! Draco Malfoy was not gay! I am not gay! I am not gay! he’d tell himself while he lay in his bed at night and curled his fingers around his prick, stroking it to release with nothing else but Potter on his mind. I am not gay! I am not gay! he would assure himself as he stood under the hot stream of the shower and lathered shampoo around his cock and jerked it until he came, thinking about how Potter would look naked and soaped up and—

He was not gay, thank you very much. Draco Malfoy was not gay! He was too handsome and important to be gay! And of course he didn’t like Potter! He hated Potter. Only his prick liked Potter, not him!

He kept telling himself that when he rounded the shelving in the library to look for a book and saw Potter. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Harr—Potter was standing there, a large book opened on one hand, his other hand up behind his neck, massaging it as he read. Draco’s mouth dropped open and his cock instantly twitched and sprang to life. I am not gay. I am not gay.

Potter saw someone standing there out of the corner of his eyes. He quickly turned his head from the book and gave a look of surprise. “Malfoy!” he exclaimed.

Draco’s knees nearly gave way then and there. He cleared his throat and managed in a throaty croak, “Potter.” His heartbeat raced and his palms instantly became damp with sweat. He gazed at those green eyes and his cock pulsed, as though a piece of string attached to it was being tugged, trying to pull him towards Potter.

Potter quirked his brows. “You alright?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” Draco squeaked. He cleared his throat again. I am not gay. I am not gay. He wanted to run. But he was glued to the spot with a raging erection and a pulse so rapid he was beginning to feel light headed.

Potter slowly closed the book with a thud and placed it back on the shelf. Just as slowly, he turned around to face Draco and crossed his arms. “What’s the matter with you?”

Draco blanched and gulped loudly. “Nothing!” he protested in a cracked voice.

Potter reached up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then took a step towards Draco. The Slytherin’s eyes widened and his prick twitched again. “Doesn’t look like nothing, Malfoy. You look like you are about to pass out.”

Draco gulped again and shook his head. “I’m fine!” he squeaked once more as Potter took another step towards him. Draco could smell Potter’s scent; a faint tinge of sweat mingled with something that resembled sweets of some sort. The Gryffindor’s eyes were staring at him - staring closely – and Draco had to reassure himself again: I am not gay. I am not gay.

Potter quickly scanned down Draco’s body with a brow arched and then looked back up to Draco’s pale, panic-stricken face. He took another step in and then propped his elbow up on the shelf, his other hand on his hip. “You here to take another point from Gryffindor, is that it?”

I am not gay. I am not gay. “Wh-What do you mean?”

Potter licked his lips. He cast his green eyes about quickly to see if anyone was about. Then he did something that nearly made Draco faint.

He leaned in quickly and pressed his lips to Draco’s. Potter\'s lips were soft and his touch was gentle.

Draco nearly came on the spot. A short, breathless gasp came from his throat and his eyes widened to the point where they felt they would pop out of his head. His cock throbbed and strained against his trousers, as though his prick and Potter were magnets trying to connect, and his pulse increased to the point where he was certain his heart was going to explode.

Potter pulled back out, cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “So, how many points is it this time, Malfoy?”

Draco’s mouth opened and closed and he finally remembered to blink. “I-I-“ I am not gay. I am not gay. Suddenly his body reacted and he lunged forward, pinned Potter to the shelf and pressed his lips hard against the Gryffindor’s. He squeezed his eyes shut and scrabbled his fingers against Potter’s robes. I am not gay! I am not gay! He pressed his body against Potter’s and his erection met Harr—Potter\'s, and he ground against it with a loud groan. He felt Potter’s his hands over his back, pulling him in closer while their tongues entwined. Their breath was fast and shallow, hot and steamy as they kissed furiously.

I am not gay. I am not gay. Draco let go of Potter’s robes and moved his hands up to the Gryffindor’s head. He spread his fingers and raked them through the boy’s thick, brown hair and, oh god, it was so soft and thick. He curled his fingers in and gripped his hair, pulled him closer and kissed Potter deeper. I am not gay. I am not gay. I am not—

A sound from the other side of the shelf startled them both and they jumped apart. Draco’s lips felt puffy and swollen. Potter’s hair was messier and more tousled than usual, and his glasses were fogged up and slightly tilted to one side on his face. They were both breathless and gulping, staring at each other.

Draco’s cock continued to twitch and throb violently, while his heart hammered hard. Catching his breath, Draco managed in a strained voice, “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“What?!”

“You heard me, Potter,” Draco replied in sharp whisper. He wished his pulse would calm down and his cock would stop twitching so he could think straight.

“I think you can call me Harry after kiss—“

“Shut up!” he hissed. I am not gay! I am not gay!

“—ing me, Draco.”

“You kissed me!” Draco retorted. He’s the one that’s gay, not me!

“That’s because you were looking at me like you wanted to be kissed, Malfoy,” Potter shot back in a loud whisper.

“Call me Draco, Potter.”

“Only if you call me Harry, Draco.”

Draco glared at Potter. “Fine. We will discuss this later, Harry”.

Potter glared back at him. He snatched his glasses from his face and began to roughly clean the lenses with a tuft of his cloak. “Okay! Fine! What time?”

“After dinner, tonight,” Draco whispered back brusquely as he adjusted his cloak and smoothed back his platinum blond hair. His erection was finally beginning to taper off enough for him to think properly and his heart was slowing down to a more regular pace.

Potter shoved his glasses back on to his face. “Fine. Where?”

“I’ll be on prefect rounds. You’ll find me.”

Potter narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Fine.”

Draco glared at Potter for a moment longer before he spun on his heel and stalked off. Once he’d rounded the shelf and was heading towards the exit, a grin broke out on his face. I’m not gay, but I think I like Pott—Harry.