Title:
Shadow Play
Author: 
melusinahp
Team: Team Canon
Prompt: The Devil
Wordcount: 5,500
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Imaginary non-con, violence, and bondage. Non-imaginary (in the context of a fictional story) fully consensual but slightly violent sex.
Summary: Harry knows what he wants, but Draco knows what he needs.
Author's Note "Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. At all counts, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions."— Jung
"Do you not think that casting Muffliato defeats the purpose of meeting me in a public setting, Harry? I could still throw a fit, but no one would notice." Draco leaned against the seat-back, a slight tightness about his mouth and pinpricks of colour on his cheeks belying the message his relaxed posture was likely meant to convey.
Harry stared at the table in front of him, not meeting Draco's eyes, refusing to even look at him. If he looked at him, he'd be lost. Pressing his lips together, he decided it would be best to just get it over with.
"Ginny's pregnant."
There was only the briefest pause, then, "Congratulations."
Harry's upper lip curled, and he finally looked up to meet eyes that could have been made from agate for all the warmth they held.
"So," Harry continued, "we've got to stop."
There was another, longer pause. The spots of pink on Draco's cheeks spread until they were the size of Galleons.
"I do not see how one thing follows from the other, Potter."
Harry sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. His shoulders were aching with tension.
" Potter? All right then, Malfoy. Look. This isn't any easier for me than it is for..."
"It's not a matter of ease; it's a matter of you being an idiot. She's pregnant," Draco spat the word, "so we have to stop fucking each other? How does that make sense? How does it make things remotely different from last week? We were both still married on Tuesday, yet you were perfectly happy to shove your cock down my throat then, I recall?"
"Stop it!" Harry hissed, his hands curling into fists. "It means my priorities have got to change. I've got to concentrate on her now, on my family." He had to keep himself from getting angry. Anger would lead him in the exact opposite direction from where he needed to go. Taking a deep breath, he forced his fingers to relax. "You can understand that, Draco, can't you? About family?"
"I understand more about family than you could ever possibly know."
"You don't have to be nasty."
"You think this is nasty? Just you wait and see."
Closing his eyes, Harry pressed his palms flat against the table and took three deep breaths through his nostrils.
"Six years have passed since you saved the world, Potter. You don't have to be a hero any more. For the love of Salazar, just be Harry for once in your life."
"This is Harry! This is who I am. I can't keep sneaking around with you just because... There are other people's lives at stake. Other people's happiness."
"And, as usual, your happiness means nothing. Right?"
Harry spread his hands. "Ginny is innocent. I won't hurt her. And I love her, in case you've forgotten."
Draco's head snapped to the side, and his face became fully flushed. "Of course. Love. Merlin forbid I should get in the way of your great love for your wife."
Wanting to smash something, Harry swallowed.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Draco."
"Do shut up."
Harry bit down on his lip. "I'm s—"
Draco's hand struck out like a viper and grabbed Harry's arm, tight as a vice. "One more night."
He was looking at Harry again now, his face still red, his gaze just as hard as his grip on Harry's wrist. Harry splayed his fingers and tried to pull his arm free, but Draco only held on tighter. "Draco..." Harry whispered.
"One. Night. Come back to the Manor. I won't even touch you. I... I just want you to see something before you decide."
"I have decided. Let me go."
"Surely you feel enough for me to do this one final thing." The words would have been plaintive had Draco's teeth not been bared and his eyes dark, lids lowered.
"Okay," said Harry, crumbling. "One night. I'll see what you have to show me, and then I'll go."
"Good." Draco released his wrist and sat back, smiling like he'd already won. "Let's go then."
"I hate this room."
Draco sighed and patted Harry on the shoulder as the corner of his mouth turned upwards, "I know. But it's got the right kind of space."
Glancing sullenly around the Malfoys' drawing room, Harry shoved the old, bitter memories aside and let Draco lead him to a large, plush chair. Draco Summoned the chair's twin and arranged things so that they were sitting next to each other but angled towards the centre of the room. Harry slouched in his chair, crossed his arms, and tried not to scowl.
"Would you like a drink?"
"No."
"It would help."
"Just get on with it." He didn't like the look of Draco's smile at all. His chest felt tight, and his stomach fluttered with unwanted anticipation.
"Well, I'm having one."
Draco snapped his fingers and bade a house-elf bring him a decanter of scotch with—Harry noted—two glasses. Harry went ahead and scowled.
"Okay," began Draco. "Pick a memory. It can be a simple image or even a fantasy; it doesn't have to be specific or true."
Gazing balefully at Draco, Harry pulled out his wand.
"Touch the tip of it to your temple," said Draco. "Concentrate, then cast the spell. It's 'Somnio.'
Ignoring all his better instincts, Harry did as Draco bade him. Something innocent, he thought. Something innocuous, when we were very young. "Somnio."
Two figures shimmered into being in the middle of the room. After a moment, they attained focus.
Harry—no older than eleven—was standing and glaring at the other figure—Draco of the same age.
It was strange—similar to viewing a Pensieve memory, but different, too. The images were less vivid and tended to dissolve and then reform.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" sneered little Draco."
Harry straightened in his chair.
"Good choice," said Draco.
It was difficult to make out the background of the scene. There were two shadowy figures flanking Draco, and a door behind him. Then something clicked in Harry's memory.
"We're on the Hogwarts Express," he said.
"Mmm," responded Draco. "This incident pretty much set the tone for our school years, didn't it?"
"Why can't I see Crabbe and Goyle? Or Ron?"
"You aren't focussed on them. They don't enter into your fantasy."
"My fantasy? But this really happened."
"Watch," said Draco, his lips curving into a wicked smile.
"Unless you get out now," said little Harry, his face red, his hands nervously clenching and unclenching.
"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."
There was a twinge in Harry's gut. Despite the passage of so many years, he was letting the memory get to him.
Then something odd happened.
Phantom Draco's face shuddered. His head grew larger and his eyes smaller. His body expanded, shrank and then expanded again.
His brow creasing, Harry turned to look at Draco.
Draco was watching him avidly. "Who's that?"
"Dudley. My cousin, Dudley."
"The one who used to beat you up? Interesting."
At that point the memory became even stranger.
Spectral Harry lunged at small Draco/Dudley and gripped him by the throat with one hand. His other hand smashed his rival in the face, shattering his nose in an explosion of blood. The blond figure shrieked and fell to his knees, scratching at Harry's face but making no contact.
"Wait!" Harry shouted, turning to Draco in outrage. "I didn't do that! I never—"
"But you wanted to."
"That's ridiculous. I'd barely met you. It took weeks for me to hate you enough to want to hit you."
"The Somnius Spell only tells the truth, Harry. At that point it may have been more about what I reminded you of rather than anything personal. Still. You would have liked to have made me bleed even then."
Little Harry had forced Draco to the ground. He was sitting on his chest, pounding his fists into Draco's face over and over again. Draco was screaming and squirming beneath him. His voice and face kept changing—one moment he was Draco; the next he was Dudley. Harry's hands were red and slick; his victim's face an unidentifiable pulpy mess.
Harry jerked his wand away from his temple; the struggling figures vanished into nothingness.
"I don't like this. It isn't fair."
Draco laughed. "Oh, it's fair. Throwing away life-affirming, mind-blowing sex because you think you're too good to cheat on your pregnant wife—that's what's not fair."
"You have a very skewed sense of morality, Draco."
"This is news to you?"
"Shut up."
Another snigger. "Let's move on. Shall we? How about something from second year? You'd had plenty of time for your hatred to become nice and personal by then."
"Fine. Although I don't see the point of this at all."
"You will."
Taking a deep breath, Harry once again said, "Somnio."
The same two figures appeared before them, slightly taller and standing further apart, something stiff and formal about their postures. The crowd watching them was only discernable as a moving cloud of shadowy shapes.
"Ah yes. Duelling Club," said Draco.
The ethereal boys' eyes were locked on each other.
"Scared?" muttered small Draco.
"You wish," responded Harry.
"Serpensortia!" countered Draco.
This time when Harry's younger version veered from the script of his memory, he was expecting it. He couldn't have said exactly what his alter ego was going to do, but it all played out with a horrible familiarity.
The long, black snake that shot from Draco's wand was shiny and thick, its head tapered and glistening. Draco smirked at Harry and lifted his chin. As in his memory, Harry betrayed no fear, but marched towards the snake, his small face set with determination.
As soon as his image began to hiss, Harry knew what would happen, and his hands clenched on the clawed ends of his chair's armrests. It wasn't as clear-cut as a memory. It was like déjà vu, he reckoned—like a memory you hadn't realised you'd forgotten.
The snake reared up, gazing at Harry, its head swaying from side to side. A strange light bloomed in Harry's eyes, and he parted his lips and hissed. Seeming to nod, the snake turned and dropped to the floor, slinking back towards Draco.
Draco's eyes widened, and the smirk dropped from his face. He glanced at one of the shadowy shapes beside him and then took a step away. The snake slithered forwards; Draco stumbled backwards, one arm raised in front of his body, the other pointing his wand. "Stupefy!" "Petrificus Totalus!" Both spells shot wide of the mark, and then the snake was upon him.
Harry had followed the snake. He watched avidly as Draco screamed and hit out at the creature with his hands. The snake curled itself around Draco's body until he was wrapped completely in its coils. It nudged Draco's face with its shiny head and flicked its tongue against his cheeks as Draco squealed and turned his face from side to side, futilely trying to avoid it.
Kneeling and running his fingers over the snake's shimmering scales, Harry let forth another series of hisses; his gaze was fixed on Draco's face. Draco stared back at him, eyelashes fluttering.
"Potter. Call it off." His voice was thick and strained, his skin blotchy.
Small Harry grinned.
Not so small Harry felt as if he was about to be sick. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"
"Apparently, when you were twelve you fantasised about assaulting me with an enormous snake."
"Bugger off."
"Indeed."
As Harry hissed, the snake began to tighten its coils. Draco screamed again and began to writhe as best he could, his neck and shoulders straining. "Potter! Potter! No! Plea—!" His voice was squeezed off into a rasping gurgle; his eyes popped out of his head, and the skin of his face filled with blood.
"Enough! For fucks sake, Draco!" Harry dropped his wand hand and turned to the other man, glaring as the vision of himself, Draco, and the snake evaporated.
"Very cute."
"Cute?!"
Draco grinned at him, his eyes feline. "Oh yes. Cute. That was nothing, Harry. My father's been showing me this spell since I was thirteen. You should see some of the things his mind projects."
"I'd really rather not even imagine them, thank you. I've seen enough of what he got up to in real life."
Shrugging with a slight smirk, Draco asked, "What next?"
"You want more?"
Draco reached towards Harry, saying, "Of course. We're just getting started. I know there are much darker, nastier things going on in that angry little head of yours." He cupped the back of Harry's neck, stroking him with his middle finger.
Harry swallowed and pulled out of his grasp. "Hands off."
A raised eyebrow and a definite smirk this time. "As you wish. So. Third year. You'd hit puberty by then."
"What? I have to do this for every single year we were at school? No. Absolutely not. In fact, I've had enough, and I'm going."
He pushed himself up, pocketed his wand, and began to stride purposefully towards the exit. Within seconds he felt Draco's grip on his shoulder; he jerked away, but Draco refused to let him go.
"We aren't finished yet."
"Oh, we are." Harry didn't look at him. He kept his eyes on the door.
"I know you're frightened of what comes next."
"Frightened?! How dare you—"
"Defeating the Dark Lord is one thing. Facing the truth about yourself is another. I understand if it's too much for you."
Harry did look at him then. Draco’s lips were pursed, and his eyes danced with amusement. Harry snorted, ripped Draco's hand from his shoulder, and stormed back to his chair, throwing himself back down into it.
Calmly, Draco followed him. "You're angry. That's good."
"Yeah? I'm fantasising about smashing your face in right now. That good too?"
"It's a start," said Draco, seating himself and gesturing for Harry to continue.
Keeping his gaze locked on Draco's, Harry placed his wand against his temple. "Somnio!" He let the full force of his anger shine forth in his expression. Draco's eyes widened; he seemed to shiver and then turned hungrily towards the figures manifesting in the centre of the room.
Harry had skipped to their sixth year.
"Oh..!" said Draco with a wide smile, his voice loaded with anticipation.
The two figures—much taller than before—were shooting hexes at each other. The floor around them shimmered with water. Harry slipped backwards to the floor; Draco, his face twisted with rage, shouted, "Cruci—"
From his splayed position on the floor, Harry waved his wand towards Draco. Instead of shouting "Sectumsempra," however, he said, "Incarcerous!" Ropes flew around Draco's wrists and ankles, pulling them tightly back and binding them together. His spine snapped backwards until it was curved like a bow, and he crashed to the floor in a spray of water, his wand flying from his hand and skittering away.
"Potter!" Draco yelled, squirming in his bounds, "I'll get you for this. I'll see you dead. Let me go or—"
"Or what?" said Harry, his voice oddly smooth. He walked slowly over to Draco's writhing body and looked down at him. Draco, lying helpless on his side, glared upwards, snarling. "What will you do, Malfoy? I can’t wait to see."
With that, Harry pointed his wand at Draco once again and said, "Evanesco."
Draco's robes—all of his clothing, in fact—vanished, leaving him completely naked and hogtied on the wet floor. He gasped and spluttered, and then, looking up, wide-eyed, at Harry, said, "You... What are you doing?" His muscles shivered and clenched as he struggled harder against the ropes. Harry watched him quietly and licked his lips.
"Don't even think of pulling that wand away, Harry. I want to see this," said Draco, his voice sounding distant despite the fact that he was less than a yard away.
There was a white wind roaring through Harry's head. The vision playing out in front of them was horrifying and made his throat tight with self-disgust, yet the tickle of anticipation that had sprouted earlier had blossomed into a keen warmth in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't look away, didn't want to admit to himself that he was riveted and desperate to see what he knew would happen next.
Harry's back was trembling with controlled rage. This time he was able to use Sectumsempra with a control and precision he hadn't come close to being capable of in real life. First, he flicked his wand in the air over Draco's right shoulder. Draco's naked skin made a wet 'snick' sound as it parted, and Draco shrieked. Blood—bright as a curse—flowed down his arm and dripped into the water, leaving serpentine curlicues of red trailing away from his body. "What—" he managed to croak before Harry waved his wand across Draco's stomach, tearing open an equally angry looking gash there.
The cut was deep enough to bleed, but not deep enough to tear Draco's breath from his lungs and keep him from screaming.
Myrtle didn't shout. Snape didn't come. Harry's subconscious mind retained full control of the action. He slashed his wand back and forth, leaving two gashes across the fronts of Draco's thighs.
"Stop!" Draco shrieked. "Merlin. For the love of Salazar, please stop!"
Crouching down so their faces were closer together, Harry grinned. He was breathing quickly and sweat had stuck his fringe to his forehead. His face was flushed and his pupils dilated. "Bet you're regretting smashing my nose on the Hogwarts Express about now. It's not nice to be attacked when you can't protect yourself, is it?"
"I'm sorry! Please don't cut me any more."
"But I like it," said Harry, deliberately slicing a shallow cut across Draco's splotchy cheek.
"Fuck!" cried Draco. Blood trickled down over his nose, over his lips. His breath was coming very fast; his eyes bright and staring.
"You were going to cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, weren't you?"
Draco shook his head violently.
"Really?" Harry continued. "Is there another curse that starts with 'Cru-see?' I don't think so."
"I... I..."
"Hmm. Nothing to say. That's all right. I can think of a better use for your mouth, anyway."
"No. I'm going to stop," said Harry, keeping his wand pressed to his temple. Sweat trickled down his back. He felt disturbingly aware of the way his cock felt pressed against the inside of his clothing. It was sick to get turned on by this. It was disgusting.
"Don't stop, Harry," Draco whispered. "It's just about to get good."
"Listen," said sixteen year old Harry, "I'll stop cutting you, as entertaining as it is, but you'll need to do something for me in return."
Harry was sure his face had never held such a malevolent, predatory expression in real life. He barely recognised himself.
His eyes narrowed, his lips trembling, Draco said, "I won't... Don’t touch me, Potter. I mean it."
Cocking his head to the side with the corner of his mouth turned up, Harry traced a squiggling cut across Draco's collarbone. Draco's body jerked, and a high, frantic sound came from between his clenched teeth. His eyes began to glisten.
"Are you planning on killing me?" he said. "How the hell do you think you'll get away with this?"
Harry shrugged. "Say a word, and I'll tell them about the Unforgivable. Who do you think they'll believe?" He moved onto his knees and began to unfasten his robes and then his jeans. Draco watched his fingers move. Harry pushed his jeans and underpants down and smiled as Draco's eyes focussed on his erect cock. He took his wand back in his hand and said, "I'm going to untie you now. Don't try anything or I'll leave a cut on your face deep enough to scar."
By now Harry had stopped denying to himself that he was getting hard. His pulse was thumping in his temples, and his jaw ached. Still, he couldn't look away.
With a swish of his wand, Harry vanished the ropes. His limbs released, Draco moaned and curled forwards into a ball, trembling. Harry didn't give him time to recover. "Now," he said, staring downwards. "Do it now."
Draco shakily pushed himself up onto all fours and then froze. There were fresh tears running down his cheeks.
"Now!" said Harry.
"Huhh..." Draco exhaled, his upper body sagging forward towards Harry's lap. Closing his eyes, he took Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry immediately thrust inwards and cried out. With his breath coming quickly, he pushed his fingers into Draco's hair to hold his head in place. "Suck it," he whispered. "Oh..."
Draco's whimper was cut off as Harry pushed into his throat; he braced himself by pushing his hands against the tops of Harry's thighs and began to move his head, bobbing up and down in Harry's lap, clearly trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. Harry groaned and his head fell back, eyes tightly closed, mouth open.
It was the sound of his wand clattering on the floor that broke Harry from his haze. The vision was gone, at least, but watching it had left Harry hot, dizzy, and burning with shame. He bent over and let his head fall into his hands.
Draco was laughing. Harry lifted his head to look at him and saw that he was hugging his knees and rocking in his chair. "You'd think slicing me open would have been enough, but no."
"It isn't funny!"
"Oh, it is! It's bloody hilarious."
"How can you say that?"
"Because it's not real! Because I know you'd never do anything like that to me or anyone else ever in a million years in real life!"
Harry was still and silent for a moment. Then, "I felt horrible about that curse. I never wanted to hurt you so badly. Why are you doing this? What can you possibly expect to gain, Draco? You're making me hate you. You're making me hate myself."
Draco got out of his chair and knelt before Harry, his hands resting lightly on Harry's knees. "Harry... Harry. You've always thought you were special. Always. But the truth is, you're just like everyone else. We've all got this inside us. It's part of being human. You've chosen not to act on it. That's what makes you you. And trying to deny it will make you miserable."
"So what are you saying? That I should leave Ginny so I can live a life of violence and debauchery?"
"Not at all." Draco ran his fingers—feather-light—up Harry's thighs, making him shiver. "Just that denying this part of you is a falsehood in itself. It's a lie as much as 'cheating' on Ginny is a lie."
"Well what then?"
"Why can't you have both? The family and the love you deserve and... well, me? You deserve your family, Harry. Merlin knows you've earned it. But you deserve me, too."
Harry reached down, grasped Draco's wrists, and pushed his hands off his legs. "It doesn't matter what I deserve." He stood.
Draco immediately stood in front on him. "We're not finished. We've only scratched the surface."
"I don't want to see any more. I don't want you to see any more."
"I've told you, it doesn't bother me."
"No, Draco. I'm sorry."
Draco's lips quivered, and then he dove for the floor. Too late, Harry realised that he had grabbed Harry's wand, which Harry had dropped at the end of the last vision.
"You still don't understand." He swung his leg, hitting Harry in the backs of his knees and making him fall to the floor. "This is you. All you," said Draco as he climbed onto Harry's chest and thrust his wand against his temple. He grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and forced him to look towards the centre of the room.
Furious, frantic, Harry punched Draco in the shoulder and tried to throw him off. The images that began flickering before them, however, grabbed hold of his mind. His arms dropped helplessly to his sides, and he stared.
They were standing in Harry's office at work, facing each other, shaking hands. Draco was smirking. "Don't look so smug, Malfoy," said Harry. "We're still watching your family. Slip up once, and I'll have you."
"Oh, you'll have—me, will you?" replied Draco, raising an eyebrow.
Harry's face coloured, and the images rippled. When they'd come back into focus, Harry was forcing Draco down over his desk, tearing off his clothes, thrusting into him, saying, "You're mine. You're mine, Malfoy."
Then they were passing each other in the corridor at the Ministry, meeting each other's eyes and quickly looking away again. Suddenly, Harry grabbed Draco, shoved him against the wall and kissed him. "They'll see us," protested Draco. "I don't care," responded Harry.
They were in Harry's flat, wrestling... no... holding each other, their fingers entwined, looking into each other's eyes.
Draco gasped. "No," yelled Harry, feeling more terror than he had at any other point thus far.
They were shouting and fighting with each other. Harry threw him down on the bed. He tore into Draco's body with his bare hands, biting him, ripping into his skin with his nails as he rutted furiously between his thighs.
Harry shouted and wrenched his wand from Draco's grasp. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he gasped, staring wild eyed up at him. "My God. Draco..."
"Harry..."
"I don't want them," Harry whispered. "I don't want these things in my head. They make me sick. I hate them." He covered his face with his arms, wanting to shrink away, wanting to die.
"You thought being good made you more than human."
"God. Just stop it!"
"But this is who you are. You can deny it and repress it for the rest of your life if you want, but you're going to end up a miserable, dried up shell. Either that, or you'll crack and one day it will all come pouring out and then you'll see what ruining your life really looks like."
The sound of Draco's voice was like a wire, like a cord that jerked something deep in Harry's brain and pulled his arm up to smash his fist into Draco's jaw. With an, "Oof!" Draco's head snapped back, and he rolled off Harry and onto the carpet.
Harry hit him again—on the cheekbone this time—and then grabbed him by the throat, thrusting him hard against the floor.
"You're so angry." Shivering, licking very real blood from the corner of his mouth, Draco pressed his hands against Harry's waist and shoulder. His face was flushed pink, his eyes were wide but foggy; his breath came in short gasps.
Harry tightened his grip on his throat, and Draco's lips parted, his eyelashes fluttering. Harry's heart was hammering so hard and so fast that he couldn't think straight. He could feel Draco's chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. Their eyes met.
"Come on," Draco whispered. "Come on and fuck me, Potter."
With an animal cry, Harry began tearing at Draco's clothing. Draco whined and moved his limbs so that Harry could do it faster. It took seconds. A quick lubrication and stretching spell took two more, and Harry drove his cock deep into Draco's body and set about fucking him like he was attacking. His hands were gripping clumps of Draco's hair on either side of his head; he pressed his forehead against Draco's as he moved, grinding their skulls together, his eyes wide open.
"You need this," moaned Draco, his voice rough and desperate, his lips so close that Harry could feel the breathy heat of each word against his own mouth. "You need me."
He pumped into Draco harder, holding nothing back, not trying to make it last, just desperately feeding off the heat, friction, and building pressure. Draco's heels were digging into the small of his back; his hands were bruising Harry's shoulders.
"Make me come," Draco gasped. "Make it hurt, make me scream."
Harry tried. Flashes of the scenes they'd just watched flew through his mind. He pushed himself up on his arms and began hammering into Draco's arse, unable to tell pleasure from fury or fear or need. Draco arched his neck, his eyes going wide and sightless, his mouth open, face flushed with ecstasy. He did scream as he came. Harry felt Draco's arse clench tightly around his cock, and then he lost it completely and let the pleasure burst through his body in an electric rush from his groin, through his stomach and chest, all the way to his scalp. He roared, cursed, and then collapsed, panting and dripping with sweat, onto his lover beneath him.
Harry squeezed his eyes tightly closed and then rolled off Draco to lie on his back on the carpet. "I hate you."
"You need me."
Draco moved closer. His shaking arm crept over Harry's chest, and he pressed his forehead into Harry's shoulder. After taking a deep, shuddering breath he said, "I need this. I need you. Harry. I need you."
Harry cringed and felt his resistance crumble. He turned to Draco and pulled him close, burying his face in the hair on the top of Draco's head. "I don't know what to do."
Draco pulled slightly away so he could meet Harry's eyes and reached up to take his face in his hands. "One more. One more vision." Quickly, in response to Harry's expression, Draco continued, "A different sort this time and the very last, I swear."
"I'm too tired to argue with you." Harry pulled away and sat up.
Draco rose to sit next to him. "Think... Think of Ginny this time."
"I'm not going to have those sort of thoughts about—"
"Please, Harry. Trust me."
Harry shook his head, but remained still as Draco lifted his wand and gently pressed it to Harry's temple. "Somnio."
Harry stared to the side, letting his vision go blurry and avoiding the images. He didn't want to know what he really wanted to do to Ginny, didn't want to think of her that way.
"Look," said Draco, and wrapped his free arm around Harry's shoulders. "Look, Harry. It's okay."
Feeling wild and helpless, Harry looked.
It was a small, cosy looking room filled with the soft, flickering light of a fireplace. Facing the fire was a sofa. On the sofa sat Harry with Ginny by his side. Her head rested on his shoulder; his arm was draped across her back and his fingers were slowly stroking her arm. Several shadowy, child sized shapes moved about on the carpet in front of them.
His brow creased as he gazed at the scene. His eyes began to burn.
The small shapes on the carpet shimmered and faded, formed and reformed. Their faces fluctuated—one had Ginny's brown eyes, another had Harry's black hair, then red hair, then green eyes... They were laughing, rolling about together. Ginny sighed and turned to leave a gentle kiss on Harry's neck.
Intense longing seized Harry's chest. He watched the scene hungrily, drinking it in, and was only drawn from his thrall when Draco gently pulled his wand away from his temple.
Turning to Draco, Harry searched his face, baffled as to why Draco had decided he needed to see such a different sort of fantasy.
"That's you, too, Harry," Draco said quietly, his face still, eyes steady. "I know it, and I'd never try and take it from you."
Draco's gaze was naked, pure, and completely open. Harry could count the times he'd seen him so vulnerable on one hand. On barely more than one finger, in fact. He'd end it another day. There was still time. Another week wouldn't hurt or another month...
"I never want to do the Somnius Spell again," he said.
"Don’t worry," responded Draco, his face breaking into a crocodile grin. "You won't have to. Next time, we'll just look at my fantasies."
Harry chuckled. "I very strongly suspect that our rela- —whatever this is between us—wouldn't survive that."
"I strongly suspect you'd be surprised," said Draco, leaning in for a kiss.
"Maybe I would," responded Harry, sighing, and met Draco's lips with his own.
— The End