Craving
Author: Ria ()
Disclaimer: It�s all belonged to JK Rowling, her publishers, Warner Bros. etc. It�s most definitely not mine, for obvious reasons. No profit�s being made. I just love the characters, that�s all. :)
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: General spoilers
Summary: Attraction turns to love, and when the world succumbs to madness and destruction, love is the one thing that keeps Harry going.

>O<

Craving

>O<

The attraction came slowly and stealthily, creeping up on him unawares, unfolding like the cautious awakening of a flower to sunlight, unfurling its petals inside him until it was a familiar part of his being. But he still wasn�t fully aware of it, or what it meant, or what it would cause.

Draco�s lips caress gently, giving tender pressure that can build up to deepening lust, a lust which can almost become frightening. But Harry welcomes both, welcomes it all. It�s familiar and has never hurt him, not this part of his lover. Hands cradle his face as if it�s the most precious thing on Earth. His touch causes shivers to trickle down Harry�s spine, shivers that make his pulse race and his excitement heighten. He wants this. Badly.

When he realised what had taken over him, it hit like a curse, a storm that trembled inside him. He wrapped his arms around himself, but it did nothing to ease any of his emotional turmoil. It couldn�t stop Harry from looking, from looking and realising that he was attracted to him.

Lips press harder, demanding, insistent. Harry chuckles, his own hands snaking up to tangle through silky hair, pressing him closer. Yes. Yesssss... He opens his mouth, and tongues battle furiously. Sensation enhances until Harry can feel himself tremble from it all, sweat breaking out, his body beginning to react violently. Yes. Yesssssss...

Remaining near him was torture, more so because Harry could feel the weight of his gaze on him, and that startled him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn�t the only one feeling attraction. And he was getting far out of his depth. But he didn�t avoid it. Every so often, he would look up to meet silver-grey eyes, eyes that held lust, shock, and accusation in a tumbling mix that made him feel dizzy. But despite all the uncertainty and hesitation, there was underlining excitement that never went away.

Skilled lips move to his neck, trailing slowly down to his collarbone and then his chest, peppering the glazed skin with light kisses, sensation being the more intended effect than actual pressure. Deep gasps begin to come from Harry, as he tosses back his head, gasps with frantic pants and groans. He�s never been able to resist. Never. He always succumbs in the end. Light laughter fills his ears, but Harry doesn�t feel embarrassed in the least. All he wants is more. More.

Carefully planned touches, appearing to be more accident than anything else. Half-hidden glances, eyes meeting. Appointments decided on, kept. Always in secret, until they were ready to face the world. In the ice of the dungeons, the coolness of the lake, the shelter of the trees. The obscurity of the Astronomy Tower in the heart of winter. Unknown rooms, abandoned rooms, anywhere and everywhere. It became more than a choice; eventually they needed the touch, craved it. It became addictive; an obsession. Neither of them wanted it to end, though they knew what they were doing would give them no benefits. They didn�t care. All they wanted was one more touch.

Their touches become more frantic, urgent, pressing, compelling them both closer together, if they could come any closer. Hands wander frantically, mapping out territory already well familiar to them, massaging, smoothening, scraping. Primal sounds tear from their throats, ancient, needing, screaming. Lust fills the air as they gasp, writhe and moan, feeling the arousal almost painfully inside them. They want it. Desperately. Harry slams his head back, eyes squeezed shut, hardly able to believe the emotions being awoken in him, but embracing them oh-so-quickly. Nails scrape down his chest and stomach gently, making him hiss as he tosses his head, wanting more than this, much more.

The snow was light, heavy, more, less, as he looked at it. Watched it turn painfully white from the pale, weak sun overhead. A winter sun, hardly decipherable from the dull sky itself. He breathed in the fresh, sharp air that winter brought, feeling cleansed, pure and at peace. For once. It wasn�t often he felt like this. It was the crunch of snow that alerted him, and Harry turned in time to see him approach, dark boots crunching though the whiteness in a stark contrast. A smile curved his lips before he could help it, and he felt warm when it was returned. Lips pressed against his before he could take in a breath, and soon he was breathless, but didn�t care. Slender fingers traced his cool cheeks slowly. And soon he didn�t feel cold at all.

Heat gathers between them. Heat from their breath, their bodies, their arousal. Sweat beads their faces, covers their skin in a faint wet sheen as they move together. Their gasps and moans become louder, as their movements turn frantic and desperate. Both of them want completion, but neither of them want it to end. Can�t end, won�t end, no, no, no. Harry dimly feels his fingers flex, and realises he�s unconsciously wrapped his hands in his lover�s hair again. Silver-blond strands twine around his fingers and, curious, he tugs. A warm mouth pulls away, a surprised gasp sounding into the air. But Harry knows Draco isn�t angry; pain is a curious thing for him. He both hates and loves it, and it usually forms a small, but important, part of their lovemaking, blending freely with the heat. The mouth returns to his own.

Harry feels like he�s on fire.

The forest was completely different. They lay on cool grass, near a small river that flowed into the lake. Their soft cries joined with the quiet flowing of the river, rising to a screaming crescendo as perfection was obtained and surpassed. They lay side by side afterwards, legs and arms intertwined, breathing slowly and trying to calm thundering hearts. The breeze made them shiver, but they refused to move to put on their robes once more, for that would break the contact. They were together and loved each other. Clothes were irrelevant.

It�s close. They can feel it. Their movements are frenzied; they�re unwilling to slow down for fear of losing what they�ve built up. Can�t stop, can�t, can�t, can�t. Harry feels like he�s losing his mind, but loves it. Wants it, wants him so badly. �Yes, yes, yes,� he sobs, hardly able to speak or think coherently. �Yes! Yes! YES!�

When war arrived, it came suddenly. No one was prepared for it, not Snape, not Sirius, not even Dumbledore. They were all in the middle of their N.E.W.T.s when the owl arrived: Voldemort and the Death Eaters were attacking in unison, all over the world. Harry, Snape and Dumbledore were needed immediately. Snape practically dragged him out of the room, as the exam was stopped. Harry barely had time to look back and find Draco�s pale face in the room. He didn�t have time to say goodbye, or anything else.

Orgasm hits like a tidal wave, storming through him. Harry tosses back his head and howls, the sound filling the room. Others have probably heard him, but he doesn�t care. He shudders uncontrollably, gasping, moaning, whimpering, as his body tries to express the emotion that�s far too much for him to deal with. Soon, Draco comes as well and Harry holds him as he spasms and shivers, nails digging into his own arms and hurting, but it doesn�t matter. It never matters. Breathing heavily and trying to calm their pounding hearts, they collapse onto the bed, still tangled in each other and simply not caring. Neither say anything for several heartbeats, instead lying and listening to their gasps breaking the silence.

War was fierce, cunning and destructive. In the two years it lasted, cities were torn apart, people killed and driven mad, countries ruined. No place was left unscathed, though Europe was badly destroyed because of Voldemort�s position there. In that time, Harry lost many people he knew at Hogwarts and many people he loved. But never once did he see or meet Draco, and he didn�t know whether to be grateful or frightened.

Harry can�t stop the memories from coming and he shivers, gripping his sleeping lover tightly, as if to prove to himself Draco didn�t die and that he�s still there. The memories will never leave him, he knows that, but some of them gradually begin to hurt less and less as the days pass, and that�s good. The nightmares are starting to stop, too, hopefully for good one day. Society is slowly rebuilding itself, and Harry�s trying to rebuild himself along with it.

Voldemort was dead. The scattered Death Eaters were being captured and trials were being planned. The world was rejoicing, of course, but also mourning those that had been lost. Harry understood their joy, and sometimes even took part in it, but he refused to fully rejoice until he saw Draco once more. Or learned he was dead, but he wouldn�t think like that. War was over. Life could begin again. He had to stay positive.

He was at the Ministry because the Weasleys had invited him and Hermione, due to Arthur Weasley being appointed as the new Minister of Magic, but found he couldn�t truly be a part of their celebration. Then a voice murmured quietly in his ear, �Remember me?�

Harry was turning before he realised it, kissing warm, familiar lips before he could think, pulling a recognised body closer to him as he did so. People around them gasped; Harry dimly recalled that Hermione, Ron and the other Weasleys didn�t know about his relationship, but couldn�t bring himself to panic. Instead he wrapped cool hands around his own, pulled his lips away, and smiled.

Draco smiled back.

There are still bad days � how can there not be? � but they�re taken as they come and weathered. Harry and Draco come out the better for them. Leading a life together is different than they�d thought it would be, and arguments are many and plenty, but they�re expected and never let get out of hand. Their family and friends were astonished when they realised how long the secret had been kept from them. Ron nearly went into hysterics. They�re slowly coming to terms with it, but it can still be called a struggle.

Dawn is breaking over the horizon and Harry watches the sunlight fill the sky, casting a warm glow over the land. Then he looks down at Draco, still sleeping, and kisses him gently on the forehead, before closing his eyes. �Love you,� he whispers.

His hand is squeezed gently, before soft lips place a kiss on it.