Your Cruelty is a Mask

“Move it, Potter,” Draco snapped, shouldering past the Gryffindor. “There's a door here for other purposes than you lounging in it.” Harry gave Draco a glare before moving out of the way, slowly. “I'm so sorry, Malfoy,” he spat, voice sharp with annoyance. “I forgot that you were the only person that mattered.” Draco moved away, bothering only to shoot a poisonous glance back over his shoulder. “Git,” Ron muttered, shaking his head at Harry.

Harry paused on his way back to the dormitory, halting as he heard a strange noise. Rearranging his invisibility cloak around him, he slowly went around the corner, curious to see what was going on. A boy was braced against a wall, back arched. Silver-blonde hair caught the light, and when the boy turned, Harry was astounded to see none other than Draco Malfoy. The person kneeling at his feet was impossible to make out, but Harry didn't care. The pale, thin body of his enemy was alarming enough. Draco moaned, thrusting forward, those lips for once not engaged in a smirk but a moan. The Slytherin threw back his head, pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Harry was ashamed to feel himself growing hard – this was his enemy, someone he loathed. He should feel sickened, but he couldn't help but move closer, longing to see more of that expression, so, so... defenseless.

As he took a few more quiet steps closer, he was elated to watch the stranger on the floor reach upwards and unbutton more of the Slytherin's shirt, revealing a taut stomach, painfully thin. An aristocratic hand traced its way down the stomach, burying itself in the kneeling boy's hair. Harry felt a jolt of rage travel through him as he saw the dark mark on Draco's arm, so red that it was obvious it was newly applied. This was the bitter, cruel Malfoy, not some sweet angel. His senses returning to him, Harry turned and continued on his way, shaking his head to clear it of those tantalizing images.

The next day, during potions, Harry couldn't stop throwing glances at Draco. He looked so different, so harsh and full of anger. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have sworn they weren't the same person. Last night, the boy had seemed capable of gentleness, soft and vulnerable. As class ended, Harry cursed himself for daydreaming; all of his things were unpacked, and if he hadn't had free time next, he definitely would have been late for the next class. He rushed through packing his things, pausing when he couldn't find hid ladle. “Is this what you're looking for?” Draco asked, holding up the stirring utensil. Harry blinked at the Slytherin, who he hadn't noticed standing right in front of his table. “Yes, actually. Is there a problem with that?” “Oh, yes,” Draco said, a small, cruel smile forming on his lips. “You've been looking at me the whole class, Potter. That's not wise to do, with your grades.” Harry snatched the ladle back and glared at the blond. “Don't you have some first years to torment, Malfoy?” Draco shrugged. “Some mudbloods, as it happens. Keep staring at me, Potter, and I might get the idea you want a shag.” And with that, the Slytherin stalked out of the room.

Harry knew he shouldn't. He had taken his invisibility cloak on and off three times, and paced the room enough times that Ron yelled at him. Finally, he couldn't stand the thought of promiscuous acts happening in dark hallways any more, and he left the dormitory fast enough to make the Fat Lady yell at him. Ignoring her, Harry took the stairs two at a time, and made for the hallway he had visited last night. To his disappointment, it was empty. Not ready to give up quite yet, the Gryffindor stalked through the school, not finding anything. He paused as he passed the Slytherin's common room, and decided to wait a few minutes. He hadn't waited more than ten minutes when the door swung open and Draco crept out, dressed casually. Harry had never seen him in anything but his robes or a black suit, and was taken aback by the image of the boy in jeans. Instead of leaving, Draco reclined against the wall across from Harry, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his green sweater.

“This may come as a shock,” he said, “but I see you, Potter.” Harry jumped, eyes flying open. “Wha- what... how?” he asked, forgetting to be rude. Draco smiled. “A Malfoy has many enemies. Ever since that stupid snowball-throwing act you did in Hogsmeade, I realized I needed more protection.” Harry slowly drew the cloak off of him, allowing it to pool on the stone floor. Draco lazily unfolded his arms, advancing towards Harry, who braced himself for an attack. “Why have you been following me?” Draco asked, stopping a few paces from the Gryffindor. “I.. I-” Harry began, unable to come up with a good excuse. Draco smiled, his eyes narrowing predatorily. Harry abruptly realized he was being played with. The blond stepped forward a few more steps, now uncomfortably close. Harry could see that Draco's weren't truly blue; they were flecked with the lightest purple possible. The boy was smirking, but there was no anger behind it, just humor. He tilted his head, almost questioningly, and leaned forward, barely brushing his lips across Harry's.

Harry jerked back as if shocked, hitting his head against the wall. Draco frowned and pulled back, affronted, and turned to leave, shoulders set defensively. Harry grabbed at his arm, realizing when Draco winced that it was the tattooed one. “Let me go,” the Slytherin hissed, eyes full of venom. “It was a fucking joke, okay? Leave me alone.” “No,” Harry said simply, dragging the blond closer to him and bringing their mouths together. Draco stood still for a moment, still tense, before slowly relaxing and opening his mouth to the Gryffindor. Harry gasped when their tongues met, and Draco shoved the older boy against the wall, grasping Harry's shoulders with surprising need. Harry brought a hand up to Draco's neck, determined not to let the boy move away. As their kissing deepened, Draco brought their torsos together with a slowness that seemed almost shy. A leg between Harry's followed tentatively, and Harry's other hand found its way under the blond's shirt, touching warm back. The skin was as soft as it had looked the other day, and Draco shivered under the touch.

Harry finally broke the kiss, drawing back. Draco looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, delicate mouth sinfully bruised. “What is it?” he asked, his voice soft. “We can't stay here,” Harry whispered back, “someone will see us.” Draco smiled but nodded, taking Harry's hand and leading him quickly down a corridor. “In here,” he said, pushing a heavy door open. It was an empty classroom, not one Harry recognized. Draco moved to the desk, pushing a pile of papers to the floor. Harry moved after him, heart beating fast. This was all happening so fast, it was something he had only dreamed about... Draco pulled him into a tight embrace, and when their lips met again, the speed was more desperate, Draco rubbing against Harry in need. “Please...” the Slytherin whimpered, breath hot in the brunette's ear.

With a catlike grace, Draco draped himself across the desk, presenting Harry with a pleasing view. Harry ran his hands along the blond's tight ass, feeling the flesh beneath fabric. “Draco, I... I've never done this,” he confessed, biting his lower lip. “I don't want to hurt you...” the Slytherin shook his head, a pout forming on his face. “I don't care. I need it, please just do it...” he fumbled with his jean's zipper, hastily pushing the pants down. “Please.” Harry stared for a moment, amazed by how enticing the pale flesh was. Draco smiled at the Gryffindor over his shoulder. “Dig in the left pocket. There should be some... lube.” Harry reached down, easily finding the tube. His cock pulsed demandingly, and Harry ran a hand lightly over one curved orb. Draco twitched. “God,” Harry moaned. “Let me... let me see your front...” Draco paused on the desk, eyes darting to the floor. “Harry – please just do it.” Picking up a defensive note in the boy's voice, Harry forgot momentarily about his need. He moved his hands up Draco's ass, sliding under the sweater. Draco made to get up, but Harry pressed his hands onto the blond's back, forcing him to remain lying down. His fingers picked up small bumps on the otherwise flawless skin, and Harry looked down to see thin scars, crisscrossing the Slytherin's back. Draco remained perfectly still, eyes closed in shame, small dots of pink staining his cheeks.

Bending over the boy, Harry kissed his neck. “I don't care, Draco,” he murmured, one hand reaching for and finding the blond's cock. Draco stiffened, then pushed back forcefully against the Gryffindor. “Please...” he whined, voice breathy, forgetting his momentary embarrassment. Harry squeezed some of the lube onto a finger, and began teasing the boy's tight entrance. Draco impatiently pressed back, impaling himself on Harry's fingers. Harry gasped to feel his warmth, and his cock pulsed at the feeling. Slowly Harry stretched the blond, who begged with need, moaning. Finally Harry felt the Slytherin had been prepped enough, and hurriedly slathered himself with lube, not able to wait a second longer. He positioned himself and gently pushed in, unsure of himself and not wanting to hurt Draco.

Draco apparently didn't care if he was in pain or not, with a delicious sound deep in the back of his throat, the Slytherin shoved backwards, taking in all of Harry with a gasp. Harry couldn't control himself and began to thrust with abandon, reveling in the sounds Draco was making. “Please, please... I need it... I want... I want...” Draco's voice was breathy with desire, and he suddenly jerked and became silent as Harry hit something deep in him. The lovemaking took on a new, frantic note, Draco panting and grasping at the desk. Harry closed his eyes, encased in incredible tightness and warmth,. Nothing he had ever done had felt this good, this right.... The Gryffindor's hand wandered down to between Draco's legs, taking a firm grip on the wetness there. As soon as he did, Draco went rigid, a scream torn out of his throat. Harry came instantly, pouring into Draco as the blond came and tightened, biting at Draco's shoulder. They stayed that way for many long minutes, Draco's sides heaving as he caught his breath. Harry slowly straightened, feeling empty at the loss of that wonderful heat.

Draco remained motionless on the desk, and Harry leaned down to see if Draco was alright. The blond looked up, a dazed expression on his face. Slowly he climbed to his feet, gingerly pulling on his pants. They walked silently back to the Slytherin common room, Harry filled suddenly with misgivings. Surely this couldn't last, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor – he had seen the dark mark himself, knew he had slept with an enemy. Draco slipped back inside the common room without a word to Harry, giving him a final, oddly submissive glance before he shut the door.

The next day, Harry was busy consoling Hermione under a tree. “I – I've had enough of him calling me a mudblood,” she cried, dabbing at her face. Ron patted her shoulder, muttering threats to Malfoy under his breath. After joining in on some Slytherin bashing, Harry grew tired of his friend's company and stood. He made an quick excuse of having to do homework and left, hands deep in his pockets on the walk to the castle. He almost missed Draco, sitting in shadows in a corner of the entrance. Harry made his way over, amazed at the difference in the boy. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit, his face empty and condescending. “What do you want, Potter?” he asked disinterestedly, studiously examining a nail. Harry sat on the stone bench opposite him, searching his face for some hint of the boy from last night. “Did I make it up?” the Gryffindor said at last, at a loss. “Was it some insane, impossible dream?” Draco glanced up at him, and for a moment the defensive mask drifted away, and Harry could see a softer person underneath. “I don't know what you're talking about. Don't you have some admirers to go see?” Harry drew nearer, filled with familiar rage. With a sudden motion he shoved the Slytherin against the wall, one hand curing around the boy's pale neck. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked softly, voice full of venom.

Draco leaned forward, voice catching as he said; “I don't know.” A pale hand snaked up to Harry's shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. “Could you please tell me?” Harry's forehead creased in surprise and confusion, but he returned the strange hug, and blinked as he felt feathery kisses trace down his neck. “Please meet me again tonight. Please.”