6

The deeper Draco delved into the maze of his own mind, the more clearly he realized that something extraordinary had happened to him. He had never done anything without knowing why he was doing it, what his motives and ultimate purpose were. Reason, will and cold calculation before emotion.

So how could it be that he had let his anger overwhelm him, and lost control of his own magic? Try as he might, Malfoy could find no reasonable excuse for what had happened... Except one. But that was simply impossible!

Even this morning he had dreamed of celebrating victory whenever an agitated Potter would lunge at people with unambiguous intentions. That was to be expected, because that had been the original plan - the more often Potter got into such situations, the more provocative material Draco would have, and the more chance he would have of getting his comeuppance from the disgraced Gryffindor. But then why was he ready to blow half the lock when Potter kissed Blaise, let alone Goyle (and how did that wardrobe with the empty mezzanine even have the brains to reach for a kiss?!).

What was this all about...? First the Fater's green eyes, then the vision in the crystal ball, then this insane jealousy...

Yeah, jealousy indeed, no need to deny it.

Could all this not just be a coincidence or a magical glitch? Could it be that he had a thing for Potter after all?

It never even occurred to him to think of the Gryffindor misunderstanding in that way!

Well, what kind of object of desire was Potter?

He'd have a pretty face if it weren't for those stupid round glasses! Plus, they cover up the bright emerald eyes. "There I go again about the eyes! I don't need them!" There was some sort of inadequate outrage on his head at all times - Draco had long ago come to the conclusion that in Muggle families children were not introduced to a comb (the same nest on Granger's head, only three times bigger!), and his clothes were all sewn on like an elephant! Also, the Gryffindor bespectacled boy is too skinny (which is rather odd given his constant Quidditch training)! Though one had to admit that this frailty didn't seem to be a significant disadvantage, rather it evoked a desire to protect, to preserve, to shield from something...

"Mother dear, what am I thinking?!"

Malfoy no longer had the strength to wonder about anything. All that remained was to think and obediently follow the stream of consciousness, hoping that sooner or later he would traverse the impassable maze of reflection and come out into the light of truth.

"How can I like him! A Gryffindor, a half-breed, and the protector of the Mudbloods! He's not a man, he's a flaw!"

Malfoy woke up from the vacuum in his head and was almost deafened by the sounds coming from everywhere - he'd been sitting at the Slytherin table, staring at an empty plate. Judging by the number of students around him, everyone had long since finished lunch and were going about their business. The Transfiguration elective was still about half an hour away.

- Pansy, where's Blaze? - The absence of the ubiquitous mate around was a rather odd occurrence.

- I don't know, but he said he couldn't reach you right now and went off without even having lunch. Probably with another girlfriend. Are you okay? - There was curiosity in the girl's eyes and a hundred unasked questions, but she held back.

- Yeah, I'm fine... I just have a bit of a headache, I'm going to rest.

With one last quick glance at the Gryffindor table - already empty, though - Draco headed for the Dungeons. His head wasn't hurting, of course, but the idea of resting now didn't seem so bad. Self-deprecation had never been his strong suit.

- Hey, Draco! Have you seen Potter by any chance?

Malfoy stopped at the call, instantly feeling a queasy lump in his throat.

Greg stood in front of the exit from the Great Hall, staring hopefully at Draco, completely unaware that he was already replaying the recent picture of a passionate kiss in his head, feeling the rage building up again.

"Kill!"

- He wasn't at lunch, I'd really like to talk to him.

"Destroy!"

Draco felt like he was going mad... Gotta get a grip!

If Goyle had heard Malfoy's muffled growl now, he would hardly have had the courage to speak further, but there was quite a lot of noise around, so the unusual sound went unnoticed, and he continued as if nothing had happened:

- Until today I didn't think he could be so passionate, maybe I have a chance?

The enraged Slytherin couldn't take it anymore, and before he could even remember self-control, he knocked his classmate into the jamb with a U-turn, lifting him up by the collar of his robes.

- If you come near him again, I'll cut your balls off, do you understand me?! - Draco growled in the boy's face. Despite the fact that Goyle was a head taller and larger than him, Malfoy easily held him five inches above the floor, sizzling him with a vicious stare.

- I-I-I see..." the shocked big man murmured. - Let go...

Draco unclasped his hands, only now feeling the unreal weight he'd managed to lift.

Greg adjusted his robe and lowered his eyes guiltily.

- Why didn't you just say you had a hold on him?

- I didn't..." Malfoy wanted to be indignant, but immediately bite his tongue. In front of Goyle?! He'd rather he thought he had a crush on Potter, and besides, maybe he did... Ugh!

- I don't want to see you again tonight! - Draco barked and spun on his heels and strode off towards the Dungeons. "The half-assed bodyguard! Who asked him to go anywhere in the first place!"

****

Malfoy was not far from the entrance to the Slytherin drawing room when someone's shadow flashed quickly in the nearest passage, making him wary. Someone was clearly trying to hide from view, and a quiet "Shit!" around the corner left no doubt as to who exactly it was.

Potter's voice Draco would have recognised anywhere.

What was he doing here, I wondered? Is he hiding from Goyle or something? Strange way to hide from a Slytherin near his faculty lounge, though. We need to find out why he's here!

The small passageway in the wall where the Gryffindor was hiding ended in a dead end, so Malfoy hurried past, ostensibly not noticing anything, but he himself, turning into the nearest chamber, lurked in anticipation.

A moment later, Potter emerged from the semi-darkness of the corridor. He looked ragged, to say the least; his eyes gleamed through his glasses, his breathing was labored, and he clung to the wall as if he were about to pass out. Looking around, the Gryffindor limped down the corridor toward the stairs. Draco shadowed him, hiding behind protrusions, paintings, and niches.

Where was he going in such a hurry?

When he reached the deserted corridor on the sixth floor, Potter stopped, almost panting, and leaned heavily against the stone wall. With trembling hands he managed to undo his robe, loosen the knot of his red-and-gold tie, and then his hand reached for...

Bloody hell! Draco was ready to howl, astonished at his own short-sightedness - how could he not have guessed that the horny Potter was looking for a place to jerk off in peace! Well, no, his psyche was certainly not ready for that kind of stress! He turned resolutely, intending to get out of here quickly, but there was a moan behind him that made his legs literally buck and a wave of sweet shivers run through his body. О...

Malfoy had never peeped at anyone, finding the activity demeaning and not worthy of a man who could easily get all the sex he wanted. That wasn't to say he'd never wanted to do it, but he felt that if intimacy was to be contemplated, one should definitely take part in it, not watch from the sidelines like a hungry dog trying to snatch a piece from the gentleman's table!

"You don't have to watch the whole thing, you can just see what he has and walk right away!" thought Draco, but immediately blushed at his own thoughts.

"Why should I even care what his cock is like?!"

The battle with himself lasted no more than a couple of seconds, and the Slytherin, bursting with curiosity, cautiously looked out from his hiding place.

Potter was still standing with his back to the wall, gently stroking the rather imposing bulge on his trousers. His face and neck were glistening with sweat, a few dark strands were stuck to his forehead, and he was occasionally biting his lower lip, which was already red and swollen. I had to admit, he looked pretty damn sexy right now...

- Shit..." the brunette exhaled, gently unzipping his fly.

Draco realized he was barely breathing as he watched his manipulation. No, Merlin, was he really going to watch this moron satisfy himself!

When a second later, with a stifled groan, Potter finally released his full, blood-filled cock from his trousers, Draco swallowed frantically.

"That's it, you've got the answer to your question, now get out of here!"

But contrary to his thoughts, the Slytherin never moved from his seat, continuing to look at... Oh, Salazar's underpants, his cock was simply beautiful! Deliciously, impossibly, unrealistically beautiful! The rather long, thick shaft curved slightly upward, ending in an imposing size of the head - it, now swollen and red, looked like an over-ripe berry that he wanted to embrace with his lips...

"Voldemort's mustache is under my bed, what am I thinking?"

Malfoy felt his ears redden and sweat protrude on his forehead, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from this amazing sight. The familiar heat was already coursing through his body, twisting every muscle and nerve into an intricate ball of desire, concentrating somewhere in his lower abdomen. Draco couldn't even blink anymore, let alone walk away.

Well there was no way a sixteen year old could have that kind of cock! It's just impossible! And also a little jealous...

Potter, meanwhile, ran his hand along the full length of his imposing dignity, obediently moaning following his own movement. The moan resumed a shudder throughout Draco's body, and his own cock continued to harden inexorably.

After a few more voluptuous sounds, the tightness in his trousers became almost unbearable and Malfoy was forced to reach for his fly and release the aching horny organ. "What have you stooped to, Malfoy?" - the Slytherin asked himself as his own cock obediently slid into his hand. But stopping now was beyond him.

Caressing himself, Draco didn't take his mesmerised gaze off the amazing cock a few feet away from him, flickering again and again behind Potter's sprawling movements. The swollen scarlet head was oozing with lube, helping his hand to move more easily and quickly.

"Merlin's beard! I jerk off watching another guy jerk off... No, not just any other guy! It's Potter! Bloody Harry Potter, the Boy Who Survived, and as it turns out - possessing a bloody delightful cock and making such amazing noises... Impossible..."

- Damn...Malfoy...with his obsession..." Potter exhaled hatefully between motions, and Draco nearly cum on hearing that husky passionate yet so dangerous voice. Oh... Instinctively trying to move his hand at the same pace as the Gryffindor, Draco knew he couldn't keep up that pace for long. The tight spring inside him was about ready to unwind any minute now. Just a little longer...

Potter suddenly arched, clenching his cock in his fist with all his might, and with a loud hoarse scream he cummed, flooding his hand, his trousers, his robe and even the floor with whitish goo. Half a second was enough time for Draco to follow suit. Oh, God... The long-awaited release was so stunning that the Slytherin bit his own hand painfully to keep from moaning into his voice. He could feel the hot cum pouring into his palm, but he still continued to stare at Potter until he had squeezed the last white drops out of his cock.

Both boys slumped to the floor without effort, trying to even out their breathing.

Flickers of colour flickered before his eyes and images flashed chaotically through them - smiling Potter, kissing Potter, masturbating Potter, moaning Potter....

And then there's the cock. An amazingly beautiful cock! No, perfect! Somehow now the thought of the hated Gryffindor's amazing genitals was more significant than the realisation of the surrealness of today's events.

"Is it possible that every change he's like this, he's looking for dark empty corners and..."

"Right. That's it. Stop! I think I'm going crazy," Draco thought, rubbing his temples.

He sloppily applied a cleansing spell to himself and peeked around the corner - Potter was gone. A jet of cold air flew in from somewhere, making Malfoy shiver - his back, as well as his neck, were soaking wet with sweat.

Potter was quick - he'd probably made it to his tower, or the Transfiguration room by now.

Transfiguration! Shit!

Draco sprinted from his seat so fast that the soles of his boots nearly went up in smoke.

Nothing else in the empty, deserted corridor reminded him of what had happened here until ten minutes ago. Nothing more than a forgotten textbook bag, which Malfoy returned a few minutes later, cursing angrily under his breath.