
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9097084.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, Neville_Longbottom
  Additional Tags:
      Dream_Sex, Wet_Dream, Frottage, Exhibitionism, potion_accident, Because
      Neville_Just_Can't, Harry_Needs_To_Check_His_Spells, Naughty_Spell_Intent
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-28 Words: 3636
****** Ghost Kiss ******
by D_O
Summary
     Draco has a late night visitor in the Infirmary...
Notes
     Imbellis Consopio is a spell of my own creation; I haven't seen it
     anywhere else, and so PLEASE, ask before use. It roughly translates
     to "Unable to fight [lull into] a Peaceful Slumber". However, we all
     know that Intent factors into the end result of a spell, and thus...
     Harry's use goes slightly awry. Not that Draco complains.
Whatever soft moonlight that filtered through the curtained Infirmary windows
was swallowed up by the contrasting shadows, so that a peaceful, dim and still
atmosphere prevailed. All but one bed was unoccupied, and for once, The Boy Who
Lived wasn't the one ensconced within the scratchy but adequately warm sheets.
A blonde, tousled head of hair peeked out from the hem of the blanket,
snuggling deeper into the feather-down pillow before turning to face his body
to the celing. His eyes roved in their sleep, indicating that while the bed's
occupant was resting, his mind was not. It replayed that afternoon over and
over again in his mind's eye, as if to drum into his blonde skull that it was
due to the ineptitude of Griffindor Lumps that he was now confined to the
Infirmary until the Nurse's detoxifying compound erased all traces of the
poison from his body.
 
"No! You useless lump of a Gryffindor! You do NOT add the Hellbore yet!"
Professor Snape hissed, almost matching the hissing of the cauldron. It bubbled
and spat noxious fumes rapidly, aided by startled, careless flick, of said
boy's wand.
 
"P-P-Professor! I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" stuttered the Bane Of All Potions.
"Get out! All of you! Unless, of course, you'd like to meet your end here in my
Lab..." Professor Snape barked, shooting a venomous glare to the now-silent
Gryffindor.
In short order, belongings were packed up and students were shuffling through
the doorway as fast as the clustered bodies could funnel out. Just as Draco was
moving passed the table containing the botched potion, it gave an almighty
belching bellow, engulfing the Slytherin in a cloud of poisonous gas. He
doubled over, gasping and hacking, fingers clutched tightly to his swelling
throat. Just as he keeled over and blackness crept into his eyes, he felt his
body lifted and swiftly carried away from the evil concoction. With a flick of
his wand behind him, Professor Snape banished the potion with a silent Evanesco
before clearing the air with an Atmosphere Charm. That was the last that Draco
recalled before waking just over an hour later with a splitting headache and an
achy body.
 
He'd been here ever since. His half-concious mind registered the creak of the
heavy wood doors as they opened but he assumed it was the Nurse and dismissed
the sound from his mind. He was just dozing back off when he felt the familiar
prickle down his back, the result of eyes trained on him.
What does she want NOW?
He debated the merits of feigning deep sleep when he felt the bed dip slightly.
He controled his initial shock at someone daring to clamber into a bed with him
in favor of seeing what the intruder intended. A soft rustle and an even softer
sigh drifted over to his hearing. It was ambiguous enough that he couldn't
place a gender or persona to that puff of air. He ever so slightly cracked his
eyes open and saw...nothing. There WAS a dip in the bed just beyond where his
fingers rested atop the blanket, but there was nothing occuying the space the
dip created. He eased his eyes back closed and waited, unsure if it was the
incorporeal figure of a ghost, perhaps the Baron come to check up on his prized
student? Or maybe Peeves, come to study the best way to taunt him later for
this sojourn into Perfect Potter's vacation home. That thought stuck. Perfect
Potter. He was here more often than he was in his own house. Could he have cast
a Disillusionment spell and come to spy on his nemesis while he was
incapacitated? Well! He'd show him! With a growl deep in his abused throat, he
ground out quietly without opening his eyes.
"Whomever is there better clear off before I fetch my wand and give them a
second scar!" Draco said, voicing his suspicions on who interrupted his
recovery.
There was a rustle again and the bed slowly sprang back up. Whomever was there
had stood up. He was just about to grin mentally at himself for his victory
when the bed dipped MORE, and CLOSER. He cracked his eyes back open and still
saw nothing in the air, but definitive empty pockets where the blanket was
depressed by an unknown weight. He felt more than saw the presence move closer
and when the unfamiliar touch of warmth met his cheek, he couldn't comprehend
that he had just been kissed. He raised his hand to the suddenly rosy cheek and
stared into nothingness. He heard a soft laugh before the bed righted itself
and the invisible figure departed with a final whisper. It was definitely a
male whisper.
"Imbellis Consopio!"
The last thought that crossed Draco's mind before the spell lulled him into a
helpless, but harmless sleep, was not only was the voice male, but the voice
was tinged with an inflection the blonde couldn't place.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The potion exploaded into a ball of odorous fumes, surrounding the Slytherin
within seconds. The sound of swiftly pounding soles on stone alerted him to the
presence of assistance. He flailed his arms out, hoping to catch whomever it
was that came to his aid. A warm and calloused hand gripped his hard and yanked
him forcefully from the suffocating tendrils that tried to seep into his every
pore.
"I have you, don't worry." came his rescuer's voice. Draco's blood chilled as
recognition dawned on him.
"Potter!?" he gasped out, aware that his voice was hoarse and it felt like his
throat was bleeding.
"Who else would risk their own arse for yours?" the flat reply returned, the
tugging intensifying until they emerged into a side-corridor off from the main
that led to the Potion's Lab. They both stumbled into the wall, hacking and
coughing. Draco wondered absently what happened to Professor Snape for Potter
to have to come in after him. Once his coughing fit subsided he eyed Potter
warily.
"If you saved me out of some misplaced Hero Complex-" Draco started, bitterness
lacing his words. He never got to finish because Potter had advanced on him
with his inborn speed. Potter inserted himself into the Slytherin's personal
space, flush up against the quaking body. With a withering glare, he cupped the
blonde's cheek and brought his lips down roughly on the smooth pair of the
Slytherin. Draco's spine went ram-rod straight, his hands splaying their
fingers out as far as they could go, shoulders stiff and squared. A light nip
to his lower lip made him wince as Potter drew away, his eyes a heated mass of
darkened emerald.
"That's why I saved you, you great prat." he hissed. Draco was suddenly very
aware of the closeness between the two bodies, the two MALE bodies, and
recoiled against the wall at the surprisingly intense reaction his traitorous
body produced. If at all possible, Potter's eyes darkened even more, his tongue
running over his own lower lip. It was folly to try and believe that Potter
hadn't noticed his reaction. His flushed face, his tense body, so tense he was
shaking. Not to mention the very obvious hardness pressed into Boy Wonder's
thigh. With a shift, Potter nudged the erection gently, confirming he was
aware. Still staring slightly up at the would-be -WAS, his mind corrected-
hero, Draco returned the nudge gently with a smooth and subtle roll of his
hips.
What in the world am I doing? Rutting against Potter all because he saved me
from that potion?
The thought evaporated quickly because Potter had decended on his lips once
more, capturing them intensely, his hands finding and holding the rolling hips
tight against his own. A frustrated growl rumbled around the corridor and Draco
was supremely surprised to realize it came from his own throat. The friction
had stopped but the pressure hadn't, and it was the friction his traitorous
body wanted, needed, suddenly craved from his enemy.
The enemy that saved you from Longbottom's deficient intelligence. The enemy
that saved you so he could snog you moments later.
The thought forced its way into the forefront of his mind and Draco yanked his
face away from those intoxicating lips. Who knew Potter could kiss like that?
"Remove yourself from my person at once, Potter." Draco forced out, his voice
at war with his body.
"Why?" came the low reply. Why indeed?
"I...I don't want this." Draco answered, turning his face away. He could feel
the burning stare against his cheek, or was that his own body's refusal to stop
blushing?
"You're a liar, Malfoy." he heard Potter respond, pressing harder into the
bulge with his own. Draco gasped and let his head flick back with a dull thunk
against the stone of the wall.
"I think you want this very much. Too much, perhaps." Potter continued,
grinding into him with increased fervor. Draco's hands involutarily braced
themselves against the wall and pushed him straining body back up into the warm
one against him.
"You see? Don't let your mouth lie when your body tells the truth." Potter
hissed in his ear. When did he get that close? He felt warm air on his neck,
then the press of soft, full lips against the skin tracing a line up and down
his throat. Another gasp echoed around them and Draco knew at once it was from
his own lungs. With a slight pause wherein Potter took the chance to smirk over
at him, he resumed his clandestine actions with alacrity. They traded heavy
pants and low groans after that, each pressing harder into the other in search
of mindless, white-washed bliss. Draco could feel the coiling tension condense
low in his belly and it exploaded south at the utterance of the Golden Boy
against his neck when he found his release.
"Draco..."
 
Draco woke with a start, his heart hammering and his skin damp with a fine
sheen of sweat. The morning sun shone through the gap in the curtains like a
beam of dusty gold, falling across his body like a sash. He shifted his legs
and noticed he was wet with something other than remnants of overheated skin.
He grimaced as he lifted the bedclothes and witnessed his shame. He wasn't an
adolescent anymore. Why in Morgana's Underworld would he release in his sleep?
The details of the dream came flooding back, and had anyone been there to
witness the recollection, they'd notice his face flooded with color in sync
with the memories invading his brain.
Potter? He had a wet dream about Potter? The events of the night before came
back to him then as well. Someone had snuck in the Infirmary to see him. He
could even venture into silently awknowleging the kiss to the cheek. But it was
only suspicion that it was Potter. Potter and that thrice-damned Invisibility
Cloak, he now remembered. The Gryffindor Paragon didn't need a Disillusionment
charm. Draco sat up in his bed, reaching for his wand. With a muttered
Banishment charm, he cleared the bed of any evidence to his...humiliation. Was
it still humiliating when he obviously so enjoyed it? And was it humliation
when nobody was here to witness it? Draco thought about it all throughout
breakfast, nibbling on a scone and sipping tepid tea. He was relatively certain
he'd be here another night, at least. And if Potter came back...he'd find a
shock. Draco carefully thought out a plan to finally knock him off his high-
horsed pedestal.
 
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 
Draco purposefully kept the curtains facing the Infirmary door slid shut. He
knew Madam Pomfrey had retired for the night with assurances from himself that
should anything arise, he'd seek her assistance immediately. He was ever such a
good patient. He was an even better Slytherin. He watched the shadows play
across the celing as the night wore silently on. He was just about to turn over
and bury himself into the pillows when he heard the tell-tale squeak of the
doors. Biting back a grin, Draco stretched langoriously out atop the bed, nude.
He fisted himself fully, drawing up a hardness that rivaled his dream-erection.
With a soft moan, he flicked his thumb over the tip and spread the gathering
wetness there down the underside of his endowment. He noticed a flutter of the
curtain as someone invisible passed it, creating a small breeze. A startled
gasp juxtaposed over his moan and so Draco could plausibly pretend he didn't
hear it while caught up in his own activities.
"Sweet Merlin..." Draco hissed, not needing to feign his enjoyment as his
fingers rolled the foreskin roughly over his reddened tip.
If Potter was going to sneak in and fulfill his private, perverted fantasies
about kissing a sleeping Dragon's cheek, then Draco could fulfill one of his
own, and drive the infuriating Gryffindor mad with lust. He wasn't sure if he'd
welcome company physically or visually, and the question was wrenched from him
as Potter whirled the cloak from his body. Draco didn't startle or stop his
personal ministrations, and in fact he only flicked a condescending eye over to
the revealed teen before focusing once more on himself. He tossed his head back
and groaned out another muttered oath to Merlin, his hand speeding up along his
length. He almost forgot that Potter was watching. That was, until Potter
stopped his fisting with his own hand laid atop his.
"Get off!" Draco snarled through a pant, backhanding Potter's hand away.
"Oh, I intend to. After I help you get off." Potter replied quietly, reaching
out once more. This time Draco didn't attempt to stop him. Externally, Draco
was composed, coldly aroused. Internally, he quaked and burned like a newborn
phoenix chick. Once the warm palm made contact and pumped deliciously, Draco
hissed out an unintelligle string of curses. Potter slid his thumb over the
head of Draco's weeping prick and the pale body writhed.
"This...is better...than that bloody dream." Draco panted out deleriously,
unaccostomed to anyone else tending to his body's needs. The inability to
predict the hands next move heightened his arousal, as well as the difference
in texture and creases along the palms, the tension in the fingers that gripped
and pulled. He was well accostomed to his own hand and various charms designed
in mind with Fun-For-Ones. Instead of smirking, like the Potter in the dream
had, the Potter currently tossing him off only groaned softly.
"D-dream?" Potter asked, voice rough and low.
"I-" Draco started, but a particularly enjoyable twist of Potter's wrist
silenced him.
"I dreamed too. Of you." Potter panted, eyes feasting ravenously on the
continually weeping prick.
A flash of delight coursed through Draco at that admission. But it seemed
Potter wasn't done.
"I dreamed I had you...against a wall...and you wanted me." Potter continued,
shifting up onto his knees and leaning over to blow gently against the wetness
coating Draco's cock. It took a second for the words to sink in but when they
did, Draco squeezed Potter's wrist, stilling him.
"After a potion accident similar to the one that landed me here?" Draco asked
breathless, his eyes alert and fixated on the Savior before him. Potter dipped
his head twice, his eyes dark still with uncovered lust and something else
unnameable.
"I saved you..." Potter murmured, staring over at Draco as he raised himself up
on his elbows to properly see the brunette. The black of his pupils ate up the
vibrant silver as they blew wide.
"We dreamt the same thing." Draco whispered, eyes flicking down to Potter's
lips. He was suddenly very curious as to their taste, and if it were to match
up to the taste in the dream. He threw his head back with a cry and collapsed
onto the pillow because Potter-Harry-had resumed stroking his tortured heat
with a firmness not achieved previously. He bucked up into the hand wontonly.
"Please...so close..." He whispered, grasping the blankets in his fists
tightly. The sound of metal clinking, then cloth rustling filtered into his
fevered mind. Movement over his exposed body and a sudden lack of movement on
his aching memeber caused him to open his previously closed eyes and peer down.
Potter-Harry-was kneeling between his spread legs. Draco attempted to snap them
shut. No way was he going to go THAT far with Gryffindor. He only managed to
enclose the brunette in his long legs.
That far...yet. His mind supplied. He snorted at himself.
"Don't even think about it, Potter." Draco said quietly. He watched as Potter-
alright! Harry- reached into his opened pants and withdrew his own leaking
hardness.
"Don't worry, Malfoy. I'm not going to fuck your Pure-Blooded arse. Yet,
anyway." Harry replied, his voice projecting Draco's thought with more
confidence than strictly neccessary.
Draco stared at the other prick, irritated that it was slightly longer and
thicker than his own, and a deeper tan than Draco could ever reach naturally.
The sight of the two vastly different skin tones fascinated Draco until
movement tore his gaze away. Harry shuffled closer and Draco tightened his legs
around Harry's trim waist in warning. His fear was misplaced because a new
sensation, far from the pain of being penetrated, shuddered through his nervous
system. Harry had fisted both of their cocks together, pumping slowly. Draco
moaned loudly and arched up into the sensation by digging his heels into the
Savior's lower back
"That...that's brilliant." He panted, sparks going off behind his closed
eyelids.
Harry tightened his grip, the leaking pre-emission combining between the two
allowed more than adequate lubrication. Nobody liked chaffed bits! Draco heard
Harry groan and felt him buck gently, the exposed head of his prick pulling at
Draco's over-sensitized foreskin each time he drew back to rut. The new, and
intense, sensations coupled with the who, drove Draco to the edge quicker than
he could have thought possible.
"I...Close. I'm close..." Draco panted, his own hands leaving their fisted
position in the blanket to wrap around Harry's hands, helping to pump them both
to completion. Draco reached it first, crying out softly.
"Harry!"
Pearlescent drops splashed up and dropped onto their entwined hands and
whiteness blanked his vision; despite this, his hearing was just as sharp. He
heard few whining grunts emitted from Harry before he too released, coating
their joined lengths with copious amounts of spunk.
"Gods, Draco!" Harry groaned.
If Draco could have came again so soon, he would have at the sound of his name
spilling lustfully from those dusky rose lips. He was favored with an
aftershock chill that raced over his body, making him tremble with satiation.
Harry collapsed onto the bed next to him, panting quietly to regain his normal
heartrate.
"Why..." Draco croaked, a dry throat preventing him from continuing. He must
have panted like a bitch in heat. The thought made him cringe as a blush spread
across his high cheek bones.
"Does it matter?" Harry replied, turning his head to look at Draco with one
eye. The other was mashed into the blanket where he heavily rested.
"Perhaps not..." Draco replied quietly.
"I should have pulled you out of those fumes." Harry mumbled against the
scratchy bedclothes. All he got as a response was an arched brow.
"When I saw Snape carry you out, I thought..." Here Harry stopped. He swallowed
heavily.
"You thought I died?" Draco asked in wonder. "Why would you even care?"
"You're a foul, evil little git, Malfoy. But...you're my opposite. There isn't
Harry Potter without Draco Malfoy, is there?" Harry asked with a lilt to his
voice.
Draco thought about that. Would there be any normalcy in life without the pair
of them? Always arguing, always fighting, always clashing spectacularly. Well,
this was a new way to clash, that was for sure! A gentle smile touched his lips
before he glanced back down at the nearly-dozed brunette.
"No...There wouldn't be a Harry Potter without a Draco Malfoy."
A few moments of silence stretched before Draco once more broke it.
"Do you always want to shag those you attempt to save?" He asked lightly, but
with a hint of bitterness.
"Actually...this is a first for me. And quite possibly the biggest mistake I
could have made." Harry replied quietly, shifting to sit up. Draco stared at
his hunched back thoughtfully.
"You sneak in here last night to see if I was alright, leave after giving me a
kiss on the cheek, come back the next night and catch me tossing off, which
mind you, I planned for you to catch me doing, you join in and bring us off
more explosive than Expulso...and now..."
"And now...I'm going." Harry answered.
"And now you're running away. What, scared Potter? Scared that this
could...lead somewhere?" Draco improvised and immediately felt the click of
self truth. He wanted this to continue! He didn't want to go back to trying
valiantly murder each other in the halls.
Harry turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, but no real malice behind them.
They were still too hazy with sated lust to really bring any angry heat.
"You wish, Malfoy." Harry replied while turning back around. His voice was
curiously lacking any enthusiasm.
Draco pushed himself up to brace his body against Harry's, reaching around to
grasp his chin. Harry allowed him to turn his face back to Draco's, the
blonde's breath fanning gently against Harry's lips.
"Perhaps I do wish...Harry." Draco breathed, leaning in slightly before
stopping a mere sliver away from the brunette. He felt and heard Harry gasp,
then gulp, before he closed the distance tenderly, taking Draco's lips with his
own in a sweet, barely-there ghost of a kiss.
~*~ Finite ~*~
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