6

Chapter 6

Salty Sweet

Harry clutched on to the bed sheets as Draco gripped on to Harry's waist with his slender fingers. Without a word, he shoved himself inside Harry, who in turn let out a silent scream of pain and desire. Draco continued to thrust in and out of him silently, both of them panting and grasping at the bed sheets. They climaxed in unison but they made no sound. Pleasure swept over the both of them like a tidal wave…

And then…

Harry woke up.

A dream! Harry sat up, drenched in sweat. His face burned with intense embarrassment as he looked down at the sticky bed sheets. Of all the dreams to have… why did it have to be that one!

"Gross!" he muttered. Then he realized that he had forced himself to say "Gross" even though it wasn't truly meant. He looked at the clock and it read 5: 14 am. Draco would still be asleep right now. Harry rose from bed, gathered the sheets, and tiptoed out into the hallway. The floorboards creaked from underneath as he made his way towards the laundry room. His bed sheets needed some major rinsing…

After throwing his sheets in the washing machine he walked back into the kitchen. There was no way he could fall asleep now. The dream was still extremely vivid in his head and it was playing over and over… Harry was very much disturbed. He still felt something taut in between his legs as he thought about it… Probably the aftermath of the dream, he convinced himself. His hands shook as he made himself a cup of coffee and he didn't notice that he had poured salt into the mug instead of sugar. He second-glanced at the clock and thanked his lucky stars that Draco was a late riser and wouldn't be up for at least couple more hours…

"Morning," Draco sauntered into the kitchen.

Harry spilled hot coffee all over himself.

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, "Don't get too excited now." He grabbed the Fruit Loops and poured the cereal into his mouth. With his mouth full of cereal, he opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and poured it in his mouth as well. He gargled, chewed, swallowed, and repeated.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Harry looked at him incredulously.

"It saves me from having to use a bowl," Draco said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Duh."

Harry sank into his chair. To think, five seconds ago this was the creature that got him aroused. Pathetic… And I'm not even gay— Aahhh… Draco had just leaned over to get the sugar bowl, giving Harry a great view of his model-built chest. Breathe, Harry. Just breathe. You're not gay… this is just the after effect of the dream, you're not gay. Breathe, just breathe— He smells good.

Harry wanted to kick himself.

Draco, one hand holding the cereal box and the other holding the milk, gave Harry a curious look. "You look like you're having a mental orgasm," he grinned slyly. "Been jerking off to pictures of the Spice Girls, have you?"

"No," Harry answered.

"Ah, wanking to something else then? Could it be Chang? Granger? McGonagall?"

"No, no, and hell no!" Harry began to feel nervous. Why was Draco making him feel so flustered. "Don't ask questions, Malfoy."

"Reverted back to using my surname?" Draco blinked. "Fine, Potter. I'll stop with the questions— What are you doing up so early? I went into your room and your bed sheets were gone. Why is the washing machine on?"

Harry felt his head throb, "What are you doing up so early?"

"Early photo shoot," Draco answered promptly. "Oh, I have an early photo shoot! Thank you for reminding me, Pothead!" he shot up from the table and ran back into his room. Within seconds he ran back out, dragging a bag probably full of cosmetics or something girly like that. "Come and pick me up later and we'll go club-hopping. Score me a girl or two— or ten…"

"Knock yourself out," Harry muttered, stirring his now-cold coffee with his finger. Just as Draco rushed out the door, he slumped down and sighed. What he needed the most right now was a good talk with Ron and Hermione. He took his first sip of cold coffee and quickly spit it out, spraying it all over his front. Mm. Salty.

Harry finished talking about his dream and dared himself to look up at the faces of his friends. Ron looked positively traumatized while Hermione had an impassive expression on her face.

"Did you like it?" Ron's face was twisted into a grimace.

"No!" Harry lied. "…Maybe a little. Well duh, Ron. It was sex after all. Even if it was with Malfoy."

"Don't use the word sex and Malfoy in the same sentence!" Ron was shaken. "Harry, are you gay?"

"No!" Harry almost shouted. And it was true, he wasn't gay. At least that's what he thought so at the moment… "I'm not attracted to men, Ron, so don't worry."

Ron let out a sigh of relief, almost thinking that if Harry were to be gay, he would be a possible victim. "Then are you bisexual?"

"No! For the love of Merlin, I told you I don't find men attractive."

"Except Malfoy, right?"

Harry blinked, "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Maybe you're Dray," Ron said, stroking his chin. "That's a possibility."

Harry looked puzzled, "What the hell's a Dray?"

"You're not gay, you're not bi, so maybe you're just Draco-gay," Ron said briskly. "Therefore, making you Dray."

"That makes no sense, Ron."

Ron was about to open his mouth but Hermione quickly cut in, "It actually does make sense, Harry."

Harry looked at her wide-eyed. "Hermione, don't tell me you're crazy enough to think that I like Malfoy. I despise him— loathe him— it's not my fault he's my cursed roommate—"

"You're partly to blame, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Never in my wildest dreams would've I ever thought that you would accept money from him just so that he could room with you."

Little does Hermione know, she's in a fanfiction.

"Well, yeah, I surprised myself too," Harry said. "But honestly, Hermione. Do you think I'm gay?"

"Not necessarily gay…" she continued on slowly, as if she were carefully choosing her words. "Maybe you're just subconsciously attracted to Draco—"

"That's being gay."

"Well, no, Harry. You're not attracted to other men are you? Just Draco—"

Harry looked livid, "Who said I was attracted to Draco!"

"Well, first of all…" Hermione turned tomato red. "Right now, you've got a massive erection."

Harry rolled his eyes, "That's a lie. If I had an erection then I'd know— Oh…" he looked down at his pants and gasped. The front of his pants was stretched outward. He tried to think of an explanation, "It's the pleats… of the pants," he said hurriedly. "It's actually an optical illusion that's flattering in the crotchal region… I'm actually taking it back right now… to the pants store…" he blushed furiously. "Well this is awkward."

Ron looked like he would be traumatized for life.

"Well… er… I've got to go pick up Draco now," Harry muttered. "I'll just walk this situation off…"

"B-bye Harry," Ron stammered, looking a bit pale.

Harry reached the front door. He stopped and called over his shoulder, "Don't act like you're not impressed!" with that, he slammed the door behind him.

Harry waited in the hotel lobby where Draco was having his photo shoot. The woman behind the desk caught a glimpse of him and gasped.

"Oh, Mr. Potter!" she said breathlessly. "Terribly sorry to keep you waiting! I didn't know— I—"

"It's okay!" Harry said quickly. He was a bit used to having people getting flustered all over him. And even more so since he was connected to Draco. "It's all right, Miss. Just tell me where Draco is."

"Mr. Malfoy," the woman blushed furiously. "He's right this way. Please follow me." She seemed delighted at the fact that she now had an excuse to catch a glimpse of Draco during his shoot. She led Harry down the hallway, giggling and humming a tune to herself. She stopped and opened the double doors at the end of the hall, "Right in here, Mr. Potter." She peeked in the room, giggled madly, and rushed out.

Harry wondered what was in there to make that woman so madly insane— Yeowch. There was Draco, amidst the flashing lights— wearing a white tight muscle tee and baggy jeans that were pulled down to his hips. His hair was spiked in all directions and his eyes were somehow more silver than gray.

God, he was quite beautiful… No! No he isn't! Harry smacked himself on the head. No, no, no, no—

"Harry?" Draco spotted him from across the room. "What in the bloody hell are you doing, smacking yourself like that?"

Harry looked up, in mid-slap. He shoved both of his hands into his pockets and smiled sheepishly. "Er… hello."

The photographer pulled down his eyeglasses to take a good look at Harry, "Ah, he's almost as handsome as Mr. Malfoy, here! Would you like to pose with your partner, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head rigorously, "Oh, no. No."

"Oh come on, you silly boy," Draco made his way towards Harry. "Come pose with me…"

For some reason, as Draco stood in front of him, the events of the dream flooded back into Harry's mind.

Harry began to recall the touch of Draco's fingers, the taste of his lips, the curve of his body… How his movements were fluid and gentle… and how it seemed so natural for them to be making love…

"Harry," Draco reached out, "Come on."

Harry's knees became wobbly…

His touch…

Then he blacked out.