Rainy Day Confessions

"Oh, Harry, honestly..."

Harry James Potter tried, and failed, to restrain himself from rolling his famous, emerald green eyes. The price for Hermione Granger spotting such a movement would be a seemingly endless, and possibly painful, lecture on the importance of the upcoming Potions and Transfiguration parchments, as well as their influence on his continued future as the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. He loved his friends, as he had only a handful, and he cherished them. Hermione, and his best mate, Ronald Weasley, (who seriously should just bite the sodding bullet and get together, for Merlin's sake!) had stuck with him through everything, and he knew, without a doubt, that he could and would trust them both with his life. But, honestly, Hermione's constant badgering (pertaining to studies, of course) could grate a bloke's nerves, now and then.

Catching a flash of brilliant red hair over the top of Hermione's recently tamed, and yet still a bit large, head of nut-brown hair, he released a relieved sigh, and raised a hand in welcome.

"'Lo, Harry," loud and glad, "hi, Hermione," softer and a bit shaky, and Ron's face was quickly rushing towards a shade to put his trademark hair to shame.

Hermione's tirade-in-progress took a momentary halt as her eyes lit up, and a charming tint flushed her cheeks. "Hello, Ronald. I was just trying my best to remind Harry about the monumental importance these parchments incur in both our academic lives, and our-"

Ron snorted, his face calming slightly, as he fell into the easy, back and forth bicker/banter that Hermione and he had down to an amusing sort of art. Harry had only realized in the past year or so that it was a mating dance, of sorts, and he knew it could go on for a ridiculous amount of time. When Ron's left hand jerked towards the Gryffindor entrance, Harry grinned and snuck quietly away, chuckling at the sounds of Hermione's increasingly high pitched voice as Ron goaded her on.

Pulling his father's Invisibility Cloak from his deep pocket, he pulled it around him, and started walking stealthily down to the Quidditch Pitch. He knew it would be empty, as it generally was this time of evening, and especially on such a rainy, cool day. Once he reached the outdoors, he cast a water repelling spell on his father's cloak, but not himself. Reaching the Pitch, he walked out into the middle of the field, and looked up into the dark sky. The rain was coming steadily down, and he slid the cloak off his shoulders, as well as his school robes, and his dark red shirt. His glasses were next, and he placed everything together under his father's protected robe. He lifted toned arms to the sky, loving the feel of the water hitting his face, and sliding down his torso. Dark hair, plastered to his head, was streaming, and just the joy of feeling filled him, and the magic within him stirred and jumped. As he laughed out loud, startling himself, he began turning in circles, just enjoying the rain; a warm glow filled him, and he didn't even notice the steam rising from his body as each drop splashed on his body.

He'd been doing this for a while now, almost on every good rain he could. It did him an enormous amount of good...just to have a bit of time for only him. Gave him time to think of things he found it hard to even whisper aloud in the dark, with no one around. Time to ponder something he found increasingly disturbing, and exciting. Harry Potter's eyes flew open at the mere thought of this something he'd been pondering, for soooo long now, and as he gasped the name of that something aloud, the steam that rose off of him in wafts glowed red, and swirled out in torrents. The name slid so easily, and so hard, from his lips, and filled him with torment and worry, passion and love. And as his arms fell to his sides, he slid down to the ground, and lay upon his back, letting the rain wash over him, and for a brief moment felt comfortable with his thoughts...unaware of the shaking, gasping young man standing in the stands, listening with hope and terror as the name, "Draco", spilled out of Harry Potter's mouth.

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Draco Malfoy had seen his trainers popping in and out of sight as Harry Potter attempted to make his quiet escape from the school under his invisibility cloak. He had felt compelled to follow, even though he knew the rain would surely ruin the hair he'd spent almost an hour styling 'just so'. He breathlessly murmured a spell to keep himself dry and warm, and followed the handsome Gryffindor to the Pitch, curiosity making him shake in anticipation.
'What on Earth is he up to?' he wondered, cocking an eyebrow. When the young man reached the center of the field, and began removing his robes and shirt, Draco quickly moved to the stands for a seat, before he should fall flat on his arse in shock and ('oh sweet Merlin') arousal. He leaned forward, his eyes unable to turn away from all of that golden skin, wet and steaming. The glow emanating from Harry was breathtaking, and he wanted to lean forward and run a finger down that chest, follow in with his mouth. The worry that it would be unwelcome clutched in his own chest, however, caught broken words on his lips.
'My own fault,' he capitulated. 'Surely, Harry Potter would rather cut off his own hands than use them to touch me in pleasure.' He started to turn around, unknowing and uncaring, that the rain was still not touching his face, and yet there were rivulets of salty water sliding down his cheeks, when he heard it...the sweetest sound; one he had never heard before. His name, spoken from Harry Potter's lips, not in anger or insult, but like it was a gift to the speaker, something held quite precious. The sound of it shattered him, and he moved suddenly, impulsively towards the center of the field...towards the man he had tortured, and loved, for years.

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Harry felt him before he saw him, and rose to sitting, water streaming down his body. He watched the tall, lithe form stop in front of him, and looked into silvery-gray eyes that haunted him constantly.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He was shocked when his voice broke.

Draco smiled softly, his lips unable to form anything that resembled his usual smirk, and tilted his head back slightly to look down his nose a bit. "I want to know what you're doing out here in the rain, Potter, whispering my name like it means something of worth to you."

Draco trembled when he saw the color wash away from Harry's face, leaving it pale and shocked. His brilliant, shockingly beautiful green eyes looked darker, and huge, in his white face, and they met his courageously. He faltered, for a moment, guilt spreading through his mind like a virus, for he knew why it took such courage to meet his gaze right then. Covering up both his initial crush, and want for friendship, had meant him being his very nastiest to the one he wanted most. The more he knew him, and of him, the deeper his feelings grew. A crush fell so easily, and painfully, into love; the want for his friendship grew to a need to protect him...from his father, from the Death Eaters, from those who said they were on his side...but were only there to be with 'The Boy Who Lived'. The fools. How could they not see that Harry, just Harry, was more amazing than any heroic symbol they could emulate, or desire?

His father, Lucius Malfoy, right-hand man to Lord Voldemort, would have used his own son to get to Harry. He knew that like he knew his own face. But Harry was strong now...and so was he. Perhaps...no. Meeting that unwavering gaze, fear filled him. How could anyone feel anything for their constant tormentor but disgust?

Harry cocked his head to the side, and reached a hand up to push his sodden hair off his forehead, exposing the white, lightning bolt shaped scar, and caused a small wave of water to rush down the back of his neck, over his strong shoulders. The flood of fear at being discovered, his true feelings in all of their wretched glory, shook him to the core, and yet he stood up and walked up to the beautiful man who had been both the bane of his existence, and the reason for his most wicked, lovely dreams, for so, so very long.

"I was whispering your name, Draco," he said, encouraged by the shiver he saw shake the man in front of him, and continued, "like it was something of worth to me because it is. Despite the fact that you have made it your lot in life to cause me pain, it is, I suppose, the masochist in me that has reared it's ugly head, because I feel things for you, Draco. I feel things that I wish I didn't, and yet if they went away...I think I would die from the agony of it."

And he waited, and watched with fascination, as the blonde, silver eyed Slytherin reached out a slender, strong hand and moved it through the rising steam to grasp his chin oh, so softly. He moved with a liquid elegance, gold and silver and pale porcelain.

"There is nothing about you that is ugly," Draco whispered and released the spell keeping the rain from him; he felt relief as the cool rain fell over his too-hot skin. "And, Harry," he smirked a bit at the startled surprise in those deep green eyes, "I'm quite afraid that I am finding it increasingly difficult to contain my own feelings for you under the guise of hatred."

Draco leaned forward several inches and stopped a mere breath away from Harry Potter's shaking lips. He kept his eyes open, staring into eyes that seemed to be swirling within themselves, the color almost like green smoke...the most gorgeous thing he'd ever been privy to. He saw those eyes narrow, for a split second, in suspicion.

And then, like a dream, against his lips, he felt the words as much as heard them...

"What the hell. I want you, Draco. I can't bloody stop wanting you, and if you're here, and willing, then, by the Gods, I'm going to have you." He pressed forward that small, slight breath and slid his trembling mouth against Draco's. He felt Draco breathe in, harsh and ragged and fast, and he followed the breath with the tip of his tongue, tracing the taller boy's lips. They stood, stock still, for a moment, just breathing back and forth.

Harry started to pull away, and Draco trembled, shattered at the loss. He grabbed Harry's arms firmly and dived back into that lush mouth, chasing that amazing, heady flavor. He felt Harry's hands, so warm, move up his back, massaging through the cloth. Up, into his hair, and a moan escaped into his mouth. He swallowed Harry moan and felt the sharp edge of passion pulse through his body. He arched into Harry, rubbing himself against that heat, the play of muscle. Wrapping one hand into that lush, dripping, messy mass of black hair, his rolled back, feeling the wet, raw silk in his grasp. The other hand, free and wild, slid slickly down that wet back, and he had to taste. He ripped his mouth away, panting hard, and took a good look. Harry's face, which was flushed and stunningly beautiful. That mouth, oh Gods, that mouth was swollen and parted and glossy, and he could see that wonderful tongue, and then those eyes...those eyes opened. He had known Harry had the most gorgeous eyes he'd ever seen, but glazed with passion...swirling and just amazingly bright and pure. They were so dilated, and the black was warring with that stunning green; the love that shone through all of this tore his breath away in it's overwhelming feeling of perfection, completion. Never moving his eyes away from Harry's he moved down, slowly, and licked a stripe up Harry's neck, drinking the rainwater and flavor. Amazing flavor he could never get enough of...not for a million years could he ever stop being addicted to that distinct taste.

Harry threw his head back, and Draco attacked...licking and nipping, and sucking until he felt Harry's legs start to shake, and he lowered him softly to the wet ground, following with his body until he was sitting atop of him, running his hands over that heaving, flushed golden body, up up over the chest, tweaking and rubbing, scratching lightly. Draco watched, in absolute wonder, as Harry threw his head from side to side, shaking water over both of them with every turn, and Draco felt a moan escape himself at the sight of this amazing, powerful man, beyond words and writhing and bucking with passion for him. The vision under him was so erotic, he reached down and grasped himself tightly, almost unable to hold himself back.

Harry saw Draco's hand go down, and followed it with his eyes, and felt a need, a want so strong... He felt a burst of energy and used it to flip Draco onto the ground, and moved over him, silky smooth and Snitch-fast. He met Draco's surprised smile, and grinned back, reaching down to Draco's robes and unfastening them with shaking fingers. The shirt underneath was button down, thank Merlin, and he reached a hand up to the neckline. Capturing the blonde's eyes, he never took them away while he ripped down to his navel, buttons scattering away in the puddles. He caught his gasp into his mouth, licking his way in, capturing his tongue and sucking it gently. Moving down, bodies sliding easily in the pooling wet, he stopped at Draco's navel and looked up, meeting his eyes. What he saw undid his last snatch of control, and he ripped the button at Draco's waist off with his teeth. He grasped the zipper in his white, sexy smile and pulled down, letting his cheek rub against the hardness there.

Seeing the skin beneath, and nothing else, he raised his eyebrows, grinning into Draco's panting face. He moved his hands to the waistband and yanked them down, immediately swiping at him with his tongue.

"Gods, Harry! I didn't know-" Draco's breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. His body was pounding with pleasure, waves of it flooding through him from where Harry was touching him. Each lick, each sucking kiss, every little breathy moan shuddered through him, until he arched up, feeling that sharp tightening. "I thought-but Gods, no clue..."

"Oh, Draco," Harry murmured, taking a deep breath. "You taste better than I've ever dreamt. I never want to let you go." And his mouth descended, taking Draco deep into his throat. He heard the broken yell and felt the shaking, and the pulse, and moved his head back swallowing every drop, the flavor moving him, settling into his mind, ripping a strangled moan from him, and Draco wrenched him up to his face and kissed him, almost screaming into his mouth as he tasted himself.

"I love you, Harry. I always have," he said, staring at the man, and watching in wonder as the eyes clouded over in shock and pleasure. He reached down and felt the evidence of his lover's orgasm soak through the pants and over his skin. He reached his hand up to his mouth, and never looking away, lapping at his hand, hissing in delight at the taste, and watched in glee as the sight pushed Harry over again, this time slow and shaking, and he swallowed his gasps into his mouth. 'So beautiful', a thousand times in his head, repeated over and over like a mantra. He let his head fall down to soft skin, and a firmly muscled chest, and sighed as he felt arms surround him, hands searching desperately for warm skin, settling on his back, under layers of wet, bunched cloth.

Harry's whispers surged through him, catching his breath.

"I don't understand this, Draco, and honestly, I don't care why. I'm just grateful, and glad, and so damn scared."

"Scared? Of me? Because, I swear to you, Harry, this isn't-"

"Not of you, so much as your reasons. You've hated me for so long, Draco." He watched Draco's face pinch, and grasped his head with both hands, turning it gently to meet his eyes. "Haven't you?"

A wry smile, and Draco took a short breath. "I worked so hard at it, Harry. I can't explain to you how miserable it is to have the one you want right there, to want him so badly, and to have to push him away. My father, you know what he is, and if he knew about this, there isn't anything he wouldn't do...the fact that I'm his son would only make it more simple for him. But we're older, and maybe we can protect each other. I don't know. I'm being selfish, quite surely, but that is part of my nature, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Draco," a sweet smile, and an aching sigh, "you don't do anything the simple way, do you?"

They both laughed, lips meeting softly. Kisses soft and needy and so, so tender.

"What do we do now?" Harry whispered against Draco's lips, and felt a shock rush through him as Draco bit down softly on his lower lip, kneading it with his teeth before releasing it, and licking away the pinch with the tip of his tongue.

"I can't let you go, Harry, not again." The pain, the absolute desolate fear urged Draco to rush forward, "I can't say there weren't times that I didn't lash out, from frustration, from jealousy. And I can't say it's easy for me to even speak of this. I was dishonest for so long about my feelings for you, Harry, but the truth is, I am the man I am. I'm not always nice, or caring. You know that. And if this is all I get, I understand, and I'll cherish it. I'll never use it against you. I vow that. If you want nothing more from me, I'll give you that."

Harry felt a warmth spread through him, leaving him...not alone. Not anymore. And the words he spoke were true, and pure, and straight from the heart.

"I know who you are, and I see who you are capable of becoming. And the truth is, despite everything that has been, I've always wanted you. Always. I love you, Draco Malfoy. And wherever we go from here, I want us to be there together. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to not ever have to let go of this feeling we have right now. The question I have is this...Are you willing to do the same? Because what I'm feeling isn't short-term, or uncomplicated. What I feel is what I imagine my parents felt. The truest love. Can you handle that? Are you ready for it?"

Draco trembled in awe, in gratitude, "Anything. Harry, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I want forever with you." They smiled at one another, and Draco watched as Harry stood, holding out his hand to him. He grasped it and unbent himself, and walked beside his lover, not letting go of the hand. Bending to pick up Harry's pile of clothes, he grinned and watched Harry pull on his dry shirt and robe, slide his glasses onto his face. The water instantly pooled on the lenses, and Draco smirked, muttering a spell to clear them.

They walked to the school, never taking their eyes off of one another, occasionally stumbling and then chuckling softly about it. They walked in, together, ignoring the gasps and shocked looks as they walked towards the Gryffindor tower. Reaching the portrait of the fat lady, Harry's lovely green eyes filled with tears.

"What's this, love? Tears?" Draco grasped his lover's face gently, and raised it to meet his gaze.

Harry sighed, "How silly, but I don't know that I can sleep without you." His voice broke, and he took a shuddering breath.

Draco grinned, relieved and insanely happy. "Your cloak, my love. Let me come with you." He raised an eyebrow at Harry's look. "A hesitation? Am I already being a bad influence?" He chuckled softly at Harry's snort.

Reaching around Draco with his cloak, and concealing him, he shook his head. "Perhaps, but I can't say as I completely mind. Come on then, and no mischief. I'm afraid Hermione is far too clever for any of that."

Draco laughed quietly, and followed Harry into the Gryffindor common room as the fat lady's portrait swung open. They stepped inside quickly, ignoring the fat lady's titters, and Harry moved over to the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain's private room, ignoring calls from his House mates. He ushered his invisible lover inside, shutting the door quickly and closing his fingers around the wand concealed in his robes. Harry cast a silencing spell, as well as the usual wards and protections from spying and danger. He turned around to watch Draco slide off the cloak and fold it slowly, placing it down on Harry's trunk.

They shed their clothes, and let them fall loudly to the floor, water pooling on the rug. Unconcerned, they moved together, naked, towards the large bed.

Hitting the edge of the mattress with the back of his knees, Harry fell back, pulling Draco with him. A gasp was pushed from his chest, and followed with a questing mouth, hot and hotter as it moved from here to there in it's slow, patient quest. Up his neck, and hovering over his face, he tried to force his eyes open. So heavy with passion was he. His entire body felt thick with it, heavy and tingling.

"Open your eyes, love." Draco murmured. When they fluttered open, that amazing green filled with black, he smiled, soft and smooth, and placed a tender kiss at the tip of Harry's nose. At his lover's quirked brow, Draco chuckled and captured that grinning mouth with his own, dipping and tasting, exploring. He couldn't resist a nip now and then, soothing with a lick, both gentle and naughty.

Harry was writhing underneath the stunningly beautiful man, and he ran his hands down to that lovely arse, kneading and letting his fingers play and test. He found that eliciting gasps from that pale column of throat only caused him to harden beyond what he'd thought was possible, and went after that throat with a ferocity, sucking hard enough to bruise, and bloody hell if he didn't love that Draco would wear a mark of his this night. The blonde raised his head, shakily, and met his gaze. Liquid silver eyes, cloudy and wet, narrowed playfully.

"You like marking me, don't you, Harry?" Truth be told, he liked it as well, and set out to return the favor, nudging Harry and manuevering him to roll onto his stomach. Draco ran his perfect, manicured nails down that endless golden span of skin, bending over to kiss where reddish lines were raised. He stared in wonder at the sheer beauty beneath his hands...couldn't stop rubbing and touching, almost trying to convince himself that this was truly real.

Harry turned his head and hissed, sighing alternately on a wonderous breath, as Draco rubbed himself against Harry's back. The feeling was exquisite, and without equal. Hearing a softly muttered spell, and feeling himself fill with warmth and wetness, he arched his back, ready and more than willing. And was shocked when he was turned over again, his knees pulled up, and he met those silver eyes with amused surprise.

"I know perhaps it's not-but, Gods, Harry, I have to see your face."

The dark haired Seeker smiled mischieviously and pulled the blonde down for a kiss, "I don't mind a bit; and aren't you the sentimental one, Draco..." His laugh was torn out and away as he felt Draco's fingers breach him, moving languidly but with purpose. Another finger was added and pushed high inside, and found what it was questing for, brushing the same spot almost lazily. Harry moaned and gasped, unknowingly clawing and grasping at the pale skin above him. And he felt a gasp shudder out of him, uncontrolled, when the hand was replaced with the part of Draco that Harry yearned for (to be) within him. He felt the sudden, shocked burn and groaned as it turned from a pain to a marvelously full, unbelievable heat that shook through him, leaving him wordless, and quite unable to form coherent thought.

As Draco pushed in, and held himself in place, the tight perfection almost ripped his orgasm out of him instantaneously. The heat was unmatched, and the amazed, gorgeous face beneath him was so open, and flushed, and then those eyes fixed upon him, and he felt the glow from them, and heard mumbles as he started to move slowly. And he leaned down softly, until he recognized the silky smooth sounds of the Snake language coming in wild gasps from Harry's lips. It enflamed him, and he drove forth, hard and fast, grasping one flailing gold wrist and suckling the tender inside of it, his other hand trailing across the beautiful face, feeling the mouth move. Harry Potter speaking Parseltongue was the hottest bloody thing on the planet, and hearing him scream now, totally out of control, pushed Draco over the edge. He felt Harry's muscles contract around him, felt the warmth spash against his chest, and followed, astonished, coming harder than he thought possible, deep within this man. This man, he'd never thought it was possible...not to be like this with Harry.

He pulled out slowly, and lay down next to Harry, pulling the dark, wildly messy head onto his heart.

"I know I don't deserve you, Harry. I know it. And if I were truly a good man, I would not be here, or perhaps I would at least let it go at this. I would let you try to find some semblance of normalcy with, at least, a good person." He paused, listening to Harry's intake of breath. "But, I'm don't want to. I'm selfish, and quite absorbed in my own wants and needs, and I simply must have you. You turned from me before, Harry, when we were children. As a man, I beg of you, to stay."

He held his breath, waiting, as Harry raised his head, a knowing smirk on that lush, red mouth.

"While I do love hearing the Draco Malfoy beg..." and coughed away a laugh at the arched brow, "it's totally uneccesary. I meant what I said before, Draco. I want this, I want you. That hasn't changed in the face of cruelty and anger, and it certainly isn't going to change now that I have this with you. Just tell me this, just this once, and I'm yours eternally, regardless of the answer...but I do feel this need to know."

Draco's face was confused as he waited for the question, happiness flooding through him, and worry sparking as he waited, seemingly forever.

"Will you join me? Both in life, and in the upcoming war? Because, honestly, I'll take whatever I can from you, but I can't ever fight you. Not like that. The mere thought of it breaks me."

A breath shuddered out of the blonde man, and he shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw two crystaline tears flowing out of Harry's emerald eyes, and he brushed them away softly, bringing his fingers to his lips, and licking away the salty tears.

"The fact that you say you're mine, regardless...Harry, you darling fool, I do love you so. And yes, stop crying so, beautiful, amazing Harry; yes, I'll join you in every way. There's nothing I want more. And if I must stand against Voldemort, my father, and the entire Wizarding world, I will do so, if only for a kiss from you, a word, a look. I can't go back, I don't want to. Without you, I am merely a shell, and I'm so tired of feeling empty. You are the point, the reason, for my existing. It's that plain and simple. Let's just hope," he joked, "that you don't regret your impulsive question here."

"Hardly impulsive!" Harry snorted, amazed at the lovely countenance before him. Draco was ethereally beautiful when he was smiling, and truly happy. It was delightful to see, to be a part of, a reason for it. "And regret will never NEVER be any part of this. I swear that to you. I vow it. I am yours, Draco, we are part of one another, and I'm glad. We'll face anything, we can...for together we are so strong. I can feel that. Can't you?"

Draco smiled into his eyes, and nodded, "Oh yes," and rubbed his returned erection against Harry's hip, whose eyes popped even wider in surprise and wicked glee, "I can feel it."

Chuckling, Harry rocked his hips, rolling them towards his lover, enjoying the cloudy glaze that shuttered his stunning silvery-gray eyes. A saucy glint flared in his bright green eyes, and he pulled himself up, and over Draco's shaking chest. He leaned down, shaking his hair to tickle the blonde's face and whispered cheekily in his ear.

"Still though, love, I suppose I do owe you a few swats for previous behavior..."

And was gasping in between kisses and laughter as Draco grabbed his head with both hands and pulled it up to meet his eyes.

Growling playfully, Draco grinned, "Really? When can we start?"