Title: Untitled
Author: Hazel
Furniture: school desk
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Short, fluffy, angst lite. Harry has a dream, Draco has a dream.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The characters and the world in which they live belong to JK Rowling and whomever she's sold herself to.
Notes:This wasn't my original fic, but once I started writing the other one it went in a whole new direction, and I couldn't even mention a school desk in it. This is also my first real fic.. And I greatly apologize for the timing. I thought it was supposed to be up today, not BY today. Oh, and it's totally un-beta'd. (I'm just striking out today, hm?)
Harry Potter was having� problems. They weren't his everyday `Voldemort is trying to take over the world' problems, or even his `immediate death of the day by Trelawney' problems. It was more like - no, he couldn't say it, he couldn't even think it. It was vile. It was wrong.
It was Draco Malfoy. It was Draco Malfoy in red satin boxers. He was sitting on the top of a school desk with his legs dangling, and he was beckoning to Harry. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd just been running. His eyes were dark with lust, and� he was saying something�
"Mister Potter."
No, no, that didn't sound right at all. Why was he calling Harry `Mister Potter?' Surely if he was willing to take his clothes off, he could call him by his first name�
"Mister POTTER! Please do not sleep in my class!"
Wait, since when did Malfoy teach a class? Professor Dumbledore would never let a student teach a class, much less Draco Malfoy. And then it hit him. He flung his head up with a jolt, and he was face to horrible face with Professor Snape. He groaned, aware that his children would probably be serving detention for this.
"Having a pleasant dream, Potter?"
That brought it all surging back - Malfoy, red satin, messy hair - and he groaned again, this time in disgust.
"Would you care to share it with the rest of us?"
"No," he whispered, well aware that he was turning a brilliant shade of red. "No, thank you, sir."
Thankfully, class let out at that moment. Harry grabbed his books and nearly bolted out of the room, vaguely aware that Ron, Snape, and Hermione were all trying to get his attention. He ran to the nearest bathroom and splashed his face with a handful of cold water. Honestly, what was he thinking?
"Harry! Didn't you hear us calling? What's wrong, mate?"
Ron had come in a few seconds behind him, and had a serious expression on his face. He was obviously concerned.
"It's nothing, Ron. Just a nightmare. I'll be fi-"
"A nightmare? Should I get Dumbledore? Oy, Hermione!"
"No, Ron�"
Apparently, Hermione had just been waiting outside, because she walked right in, with an even more severe look of concern.
"What is it, Ron?"
"Harry had a nightmare!"
"About Voldemort? Oh, Harry, is it your scar?"
"Hermione! This is the boys toilet! And no, it wasn't about Voldemort, and no, my scar is fine. Look, guys, I appreciate the concern, I really do, but I'm fine."
They looked at him doubtfully. He was seriously considering telling them it had been a fever dream, and maybe he was coming down with something, when Draco Malfoy walked in.
"Well, this is� distinctly strange. What is this, Potter, your fan club meeting? Oh, but you've forgotten to invite Creevey! How much do you think he's cried? Buckets? Bathtubs?"
Harry opened his mouth to say something clever back, when he noticed Draco had his robes undone, and there the barest hint of something red sticking out right by his hip. Harry's eyes were instantly drawn to it; his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going insane.
"Um.. Hermione, we have to get to the common room, right? You said you'd help me with that thing."
"Oh, what thing, Harry? I don't remember."
"I'll refresh your memory on the way," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her outside, counting on Ron to follow them.
"Honestly, Harry, what is wrong with you? Letting Malfoy push you around like that. Why didn't you say something?"
He couldn't truthfully answer her, so he just kept walking, and when they got to the common room he dumped his books on the table and went straight to his room. He had the curtains pulled around his bed and his head buried under the covers, and when Ron came in he pretended to be asleep.
Elsewhere in the castle, Draco Malfoy had gone back to his room to have a quick nap. In his dream, he saw Potter, sitting on one of the school desks in a classroom. Then he noticed what Potter was wearing, or rather, not wearing�