Dream a Little Dream of Me

Word count: 2236
(A/N: There are scenes where Harry is pretty young -I warn about chanslash for a reason. Yes, use of magic is detected in Muggle locations -but it hardly is if the spells are cast in Wizarding environment. Epic thanks to Luci for betaing and being awesome in general.)


Dream a Little Dream of Me


Harry wakes up, feeling dizzy and nauseated. His dream... he doesn't want to think about it. It is no wonder that Snape haunts his dreams, the evil, scary bastard is after the Philosopher's Stone, after all. But Snape wasn't the worst. Somewhere during the dream he had transformed into Malfoy and somehow that had been worse.

Harry tells himself that he's not afraid of the spoiled brat. He is not. But when he woke up, the thought of Malfoy scared the living Hell out of him. And if that wasn't bad enough... Harry doesn't want to think about that he had come all over his sheets. He doesn't want to think that he had a wet nightmare about Malfoy.

The black-haired Gryffindor tries to tell himself that it is only a normal physical reaction. There was probably something sexual in the dream, something about girls that he has forgotten. Still, there is a little, nagging voice inside his head, telling him that there was not, as Harry spends a long time in shower, trying to scrub the dream out of his mind like it is dirt on his skin. He feels dirty in a strange way.

Reading for the exams, Quidditch practise and searching for information about Nicolas Flamel until the point of way beyond exhaustion makes Harry actually feel better, since he's now usually too tired to dream and there is only blessed darkness. He doesn't want to think about the dream, about something inside him, something that made him feel dirty. Even more, he doesn't want to listen to the little voice that is still inside his head, telling him that there is more to come.

The dream doesn't come back for a few days even when he has more rest again but then there is Malfoy in his dream again and it is far worse. Harry dreams about the blond Slytherin's pale hands caressing his face and moving down his pale chest and that it feels good. A soft, sweet drawl has already ordered him to open his pyjama buttons and he has done that. Then- Harry doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about Malfoy's slender hand wrapped around his cock. How he moans and thrusts against his hand and comes dry.

Harry wakes up with sperm stains on his bedsheets again and almost misses breakfast since he still tries to wipe the memory that seems to cling onto his skin. The breakfast is worse. Malfoy doesn't sneer at him like normally, he smirks with no reason whatsoever. His smile is sharp daggers, their blades dripping sickly sweet syrup. It feels like Harry hasn't woken up from the perverted dream at all.

Harry feels almost grateful going after Snape ...and Voldemort. It must be Voldemort, strengthened by the Unicorn blood, who is sending those dreams to him. He's always on the move and the nightmares don't come back. When the fight is over and he wakes up in the hospital, he feels relieved for many reasons. They had defeated Voldemort and what is Malfoy, a mere school boy, compared to that? Nothing.

Gryffindor wins the House Cup, right under the Slytherins' nose. Harry is so happy, he feels alive. It is almost as good as when Hagrid told him that he is a wizard, when he came to take him to Hogwarts. When it was goodbye to Dursleys.

Harry feels like walking over to the Slytherin table, telling that it is too bad, so sad, to Malfoy. Malfoy. The git was angry until... he looks at Harry, smiling despite their defeat. Thin lips curled into a smile of someone who has a secret, a secret that he is not going to tell. Suddenly it feels like there is a stain inside Harry, a stain that will no go away. Never. Harry doesn't understand and there is a part of him that doesn't want to understand.

*****

Coming back to Privet Drive is like eating troll snot. Or... what Harry thinks that is like. The Dursleys are as terrible as before. Still, there are worse things to come. Even after Voldemort's defeat, the nightmares eventually come back. In his dreams Harry wakes up in the cupboard under the stairs and sees Malfoy sitting besides his bed, smirking and looking at Harry's body like he would be a delicious meal. Wet nightmares. One after another.

Harry dreams about touching Malfoy back, licking his nipples, wrapping his hand around the Pureblood's cock. He isn't forced to do that, he feels like he had been given a precious gift and he wants to give something back. Anything. Even Malfoy's orders, the lustful drawl laced with malice, doesn't matter. No one else has touched him gently, ever. It isn't only that, he thinks that Malfoy looks beautiful there, and he calls him Draco, pleads for his touch.

In those mornings Harry runs to the toilet, trying to vomit, even while only bile comes out. He has had Malfoy's cock inside his mouth, desperate to please while a cold, lazy drawl gives him orders how to lick and suck.

Eventually it isn't only Malfoy any more -he is not the only one there, many times he isn't there at all. But every time there is someone else. A grown-up man who looks like how Malfoy would be when he grows up. Draco's father. The same pale skin, beautiful like moonlight, he thinks in his dreams. Angular face, thin lips that curl into a lascivious smile when Harry disrobes for him.

When Harry is a bit older and they are together with him, they touch each other too. They are kissing each other lasciviously while Harry licks their cocks. A father and a son, it should be wrong but they are ethereally beautiful and the decadence of their perfection looks so right, so pure, that Harry feels only a slight tingle of envy. He doesn't want to feel left out and tries every little trick he is taught, lapping their balls hungrily, proud of every moan he is granted from the platinum-blond pair.

The man is touching Harry all over, too. Pale, skilled hands dancing on Harry's skin, making him whimper and plead for more. He licks and sucks the man's cock, again eager to please, eager to make him feel as good as he has done to Harry. He remembers how the man comes inside his mouth. While the fluid tastes bitter, he swallows it and licks his cock clean. The man asks him to do so and his words are tender. He tells that this is because he loves Harry. No one else has spoken kindly to him.

There are dreams where Draco -Malfoy- and the older blond, his long hair forming like a halo over his aristocratic features, the same that Draco shares, don't come to visit him and Harry misses them. He feels so alone and touches himself, trying to remember how they did that but it never feels as good.

Harry tries to think that it is a a Dark curse. Even while Voldemort is banished, he is not dead. Maybe this is his perverted revenge against Harry. It makes him feel a little better but not much. It is important to tell that Voldemort can still do something.

Or... maybe it's Malfoy's family. Hagrid had told that they had been on Voldemort's side, willingly -and this might be their sick, perverted revenge against him. Harry should tell about that to Dumbledore. It is important, be it Voldemort or the Malfoys. He should tell, but he can't. He is too ashamed, vomiting his guilt and self-loathing into the toilet every morning he wakes up from those dreams. They occur rarely and he just tries to forget them and his guilt about not being able to owl to anyone about the nightmares.

During the end of the summer, the time he spends at the Burrow, the dreams are gone. Harry has so much fun there, that he forgets them. After all, he sees Ron again and the rest of the Weasley family is fun to be around. Molly cares about him like a mother and Fred's and George's pranks make him laugh. It is like there is no worry in the world.

*****

They leave to the Diagon Alley to buy books for the next year at Hogwarts. Harry meets Hermione again and they go to Flourish and Blotts'. But then... then he sees the man from his dreams. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. He is not a figment of Harry's imagination, he is real. And when he sees Lucius' cold, grey eyes, satisfied and malicious, Draco's eyes, so alike his father's, their piercing, paralysing gazes, he remembers.

Somehow Harry knows that this has not been a dream but a forgotten memory. It happened when he was nine. Dudley and one of his friends, Piers Polkiss, chased him after school. Harry had stumbled and fell down while running. He knew that the bastards would beat him up.

But then the dream-man had walked there, like an aura of dominance and menace around him. Unlike in his dreams, unlike now, he wore Muggle clothes, a perfectly tailored black linen suit, white shirt and a long, velvet coat. The dream-man had just gazed at the boys and spoken, a cold drawl with a sinister undertone under a polite surface.

"I would appreciate it if you would leave Harry alone."

Dudley and Piers had bolted, they had ran away like they had never seen anything so scary in their lives. They hadn't.

"May I introduce myself? Lucius Malfoy, at your service."

There was a mocking undertone in the man's drawl but it didn't matter. He had just saved Harry. Lucius took Harry's hand and helped him to get up. He took a bottle from the pocket of his coat and dabbed a little of the fluid on Harry's bleeding knee. The pain was gone and when Harry had gasped in awe, he had seen that there was no wound any more like it had never been there.

"W-what? I mean... thank you but what was it?"
"Just a dab of healing potion. You will find out more when you turn eleven."
"Eleven? What do you-"
"It is a secret, better left untold for now."

There was something in Lucius' voice that made Harry not to ask more. He would get to know eventually, after all -and there were more important things right now. Lucius. The man looked even more stunning in reality than in his dreams, there was a lure of forbidden in his presence. Harry hugged him and he ran his hand down Harry's clothes, murmuring how the Dursleys should treat him better.

"Still, it does no good for me to be seen in public. Besides, would you like to do a little favour to me? It would make me extremely happy."
"Oh yes, please."

Harry had answered eagerly, already hard from the man's touch. The long-haired blond had led Harry towards the big bushes nearby and laid his coat on the grass, gesturing the boy to sit besides him.

"You remember what nice things you did to me at nights, do you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Would you mind to suck my cock again, little saviour?"
"Y-yes. I want to."

Saviour? What was that? Still, it felt like it didn't matter now. The dream-man unbuttoned his fly and Harry leaned down, finding that the man was half-hard already. He licked Lucius' cock, just like the man had instructed before in his dreams, sucking it inside his mouth. Not too deep because it made him gag. Harry wrapped his hands around the man's length, occasionally fondling his balls, again like he had been taught.

Lucius caressed his hair, telling him again that this hardness was because he liked, even loved Harry, and reached his hand inside Harry's over-sized jeans, wrapping his fingers around Harry's achingly hard cock while he had sucked more of Lucius' cock inside his mouth, desperate to please. Loved. No one loved him -no one except the silvery-blond man and his equally beautiful son.

Soon Lucius came inside his mouth and Harry was careful to swallow every drop of his semen. He knew that the man liked it. The aristocratic man's touch made Harry feel so good, he climaxed so hard that he saw shooting stars. They were flowing and silvery like the beautiful man's hair. He tried to suffocate his moans as they should hide. Something told him that people didn't do that kind of stuff in public. He licked Lucius' cock clean and hugged him again, never wanting to let go off.

*****

Harry returns to here-and-now, dazed, desperate to shake the memory off like it had never happened. There is no way to avenge what the Malfoys had done. This had been for real and he doesn't know if all of his dreams were true too. The shame. Harry is about to throw up and run away from the store until Lucius touches the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead and he calms down. The memories are suddenly like behind a cloud and he is able to act normally again. A spell to make sure that there seems to be nothing out of place. Of course it doesn't make Harry feel better. He feels like a cheap slut and he knows that he will never, ever tell about this to anyone.