hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,

Happy H/D Holidays filleaspirant

Author: chemical_haven
Recipient: filleaspirant
Title: The Cure to Obsession
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry confronts Malfoy but ends up a little distracted.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Spoilers from Book 6, obsession, dubious-con, binding/silencing via spell
Word Count: 3,222
Author's Notes: Please note that this takes place right in the middle of the sixth book where Harry is obsessively determined to find out what Malfoy is up to, but before Sectumsempra happens. I’ve never written obsession so I really hope you like it!

Harry groaned and rolled over to stare, unseeing, at the fabric of his canopy bed at Hogwarts, he had been trying to sleep for hours but it eluded him, as it had been for much for the year. He wanted to howl, to scream his frustration! He hated Malfoy! He was sure he did! And yet, he couldn’t stop obsessing about the blonde-haired boy, it had been happening all year. With his constant trips between classes to check the map to see where Malfoy was, and his longing to follow the boy every time he saw a glimpse of the white hair. And, now that he was aware of it, he realized that the mania had gripped him even since their first encounter at Diagon Alley over six years ago and it had never stopped torturing him. Here he was, in his sixth year of school, when he should be worrying about his finals and his meetings with Dumbledore and the war against Voldemort and all sorts of other, far more important things, and all that he could think about was the blonde-haired twit.

To his friends he claimed that his reason for obsessing - which was slowly shifting into full-blown stalking - was concern that Malfoy was up to something dangerous and Dark, which was true, he was worried about that, but he knew his fixation was more than that – knew that the compulsion to watch the other boy had always been there, had always driven him. One of the most powerful times the beast of obsession reared its ugly head was when he competed against Malfoy in Quidditch. Sure Harry enjoyed it, but the need to beat Malfoy, to see those pale lips pout and scowl, both created and quenched a thirst in him he couldn’t describe.

Oh how he loved and loathed those lips. He hated those lips almost as much as he yearned for them; almost as much as he craved to pull Malfoy’s head back and experience the petal-softness of those lips against his own. He had wanted to kill Malfoy when, after a particularly hard Occlumency lesson with Snape, Harry had awoken from a dream where he had essentially thrown the Slytherin into the wall and bruised those flawless, pale lips with his.

He growled again when the remembrance of that dream beat blood into his nether-regions. He refused to admit it! Period! There was no way in this life or any other he, Harry-freaking-Potter, the Chosen One, could actually respond with such overpowering sexual feelings to him. Harry pulled the pillow out from under his head and crushed it to his face.

Something would have to be done. Some drastic action would have to take place to whip this frustrating fixation out of his head. He had others problems to worry about, most importantly getting Slughorn’s memory for Dumbledore; but no, Malfoy seemed to be infused on the back of his eye-lids and devoured all his thoughts.

Eventually Harry fell into an uneasy, dream-filled sleep which left him un-rested, shaky, and entirely too uncomfortable about his sexual orientation the next morning. He made it his goal that day to come up with a plan to confront Malfoy and end his obsession once and for all, with any means necessary.


The morning Harry had chosen for the big confrontation was just like any other. The Great Hall was loud and bustling. Students chattering and laughing, discussing the upcoming Quidditch matches and a few, huddled together, discussed in hushed voices what many tried to avoid, but none could deny – the War. Like always, Harry took his place near Ron and Hermione who were still on shaky terms because of the Lavender situation, and directly across the Hall from him, as always, sat Malfoy, surrounded by his usual flank of cronies.

Harry had noticed that in the past couple of months, since returning to Hogwarts, Malfoy had become increasingly more pale and had lost weight. This wasn’t to say that Malfoy hadn’t always been ashen and scrawny but what ever was taking up all of the boy’s time was definitely taking a physical toll. Harry cursed himself for noticing such a thing and chalked it up, like his obsession, to the fact that he was worried that Malfoy was up to something. He was about to mention something about it to the other two when he registered their raised voices and, annoyed, became distracted from his thoughts by another clash happening between them. Merlin, couldn’t they just give it a freaking rest! This, like many of the rows Hermione and Ron had been having lately resulted in Hermione stalking off huffily to the library and Ron sulking down in his seat. When Harry finally was able to look over at the Slytherin table again Malfoy had left the Great Hall. He cursed under his breath and hoped he’d have time to check the map before his first class.


Harry had decided he would confront Malfoy in the dungeons, because the Slytherin would have to return down there to go back to his dorm rooms. Harry had always hated the dungeons, even though potions had become increasingly better without Snape teaching it, it was still seeped with a damp chill, a musty, almost humid smell that always seemed to make Harry’s head spin, and a darkness that stretched like ink wherever the dim torch lit couldn’t ward it off. The stone walls, some looking sharp with the glistening flickers of torch light sent chills down his spine and with Snape’s office still being down here Harry was always worried about running into the bad-tempered traitor. Even so, with his conviction to confront Malfoy firmly in place, Harry stood shivering in one of the shadowy alcoves of one of the many hallways waiting for Malfoy to pass on his way to his dormitory.

It didn’t take long until Harry saw the blond hair come around the corner - alone, for once. There was no one else around, nor had anyone been heading their way when Harry had checked the map seconds before. Harry stayed hidden as best he could until Malfoy was close enough for Harry to grab his sleeve and quite roughly pull into the niche.

Harry wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he loved the gasp of shock that escaped the other boy when he tripped into the shadows against his own body.

There was a confused silence from the blond for several moments while he caught his balance, realized what had happened and who he was currently sharing a deserted, shadowed alcove with, when the bewilderment finally passed though it was an explosion of curse words and insults. Harry was impressed with the plethora of colorful threats that Malfoy shot at him but kept a hold of one of Malfoy’s sleeves to make sure the Slytherin couldn’t get away until Harry had finally confronted him.

He was also quite impressed with the way Malfoy’s pale lips shimmered with the quick flick of his tongue in the sliver of light from the torch that illuminated the hallway next to them and with the fire that was in his fierce, angry, slashing silver eyes and the heavy way Malfoy was breathing in his frustration.

Harry made a private mental note to remember the slight gasp that followed some of Malfoy's words when he got worked up, then chastised himself when he remembered getting bothered by Malfoy's breathing wasn't the purpose of this confrontation.

"What the fuck, Potter?! What hell are you doing?!"

“I’m sick of this Malfoy! And I’m not going to sit around while you continue whatever the hell it is you’re doing!” Not knowing exactly what he was doing – except that he had Malfoy, here, alone, and that something was going to happen Harry tried to keep himself under control. His throat was dry and his mind racing. For some reason, what Malfoy had been up too no longer matter at this point. He had wondering about it for months and yet, in the minute and a half they had been standing in the alcove all thoughts had left his mind and all he could concentrate on was the fierce glow of the silver eyes, the heavy breathing and the press of the other boy’s body.

“And what exactly are you going to do about it Potter?! You don’t even know what I’m doing!” Harry tightened his fingers around Malfoy’s arm as he went to throw his grip off him and had to catch the other hand as Malfoy swung it toward Harry’s face. Pinning Malfoy there, against the icy wall Harry not realizing what he was doing until it was too late, leaned forward.

“This!” he gasped, and Harry, who hadn’t really had a set plan except a confrontation, but definitely didn’t expect it to go this way, pressed his lips against Malfoy’s pale ones.

Harry had never been particularly good at kissing, especially since he’d only had a limited number of experiences, but he had never imagined it to be like this. Cho’s kiss had been awkward and uncomfortable because she had been crying at the time and Harry had been ridiculously nervous. But this was at the complete utter end of the spectrum. Yes, he was still panicky and unknowing, and this time the recipient wasn’t really expecting but it sent a passion down his spine and through his toes.

Malfoy’s lips were reluctant but yielding and unbelievably soft against Harry’s own. And Harry wanted this moment to last forever! He couldn’t believe he was doing this! This was Draco-fucking-Malfoy! And yet, he was completely enjoying the feel of Malfoy’s lips against his own. It took only a moment for Malfoy to realize what was going on and push Harry away, but Harry knew that one moment would be engrained on him forever.

When Harry opened his eyes it was to the look of absolute shock on Malfoy’s face. This look didn’t surprise Harry though, the anger was also quick-coming but Harry wasn‘t done yet. No way was he going to let his obsession go with just a single kiss! His brain felt like it was on overdrive as he shoved Malfoy back against the stone wall, once again reveling in the gasp that escaped from the others lips. Harry even enjoyed the small thunk that sounded when Malfoy’s head hit the wall.

“Po…!” Malfoy tried to gasp out, and while the sound drove Harry up the wall with desire he knew he couldn’t allow him to protest or scream for help, at least not until he was finished. So, while pinning Malfoy against the wall, he quickly cast a silencing spell and Malfoy, whose lips were still trying to complain and yell, fell silent. A look of anger flashed through Malfoy’s eyes before Harry kissed him hard again.

He decided he wanted his Occlumency dream to come true – to bruise those soft lips, to brand Malfoy, and this was his chance. He bit down and Malfoy let out a silent cry, his body writhing under Harry’s pressing hips. “I’m sick of you, Malfoy, and I plan on making you pay for it,” Harry growled, on top of the fire running through his veins, pooling low in his abdomen, anger flared through him. His feelings toward Malfoy had always been very fanatical, and usually fierce with anger, but his thoughts had never been so torn before and it was just fueling to his rage. He hadn’t even realized how angry he was at Malfoy. He was angry that the other boy had such control over him, could sway his thoughts and opinions so fiercely; angry that he felt things that he shouldn’t and Malfoy didn’t care, would never care. Livid that no matter how this moment continued he knew that his obsession would never end! And yet, at his moment it felt so good to be able to make Malfoy pay for what he’d made Harry feel for six years.

Harry, who was having trouble controlling Malfoy’s hands, once again pulled out his wand and cast a holding spell. Malfoy’s body froze. The spell was one Hermione had found – a variation of Petrificus Totalus that kept the victim from moving but allowed another to pose them. Another flash of fury glistened in Malfoy’s eyes. Harry smirked and pressed another strong kiss on Malfoy. It didn’t stop there though; he followed that pale chin and continued his ministrations down the soft pale throat. Harry was surprised on how soft Draco’s skin was. He didn’t think his own was this soft or this lovely.

He was nibbling down Malfoy’s throat now and he noted the quickening of Malfoy’s pulse and breathing and the tightening of his muscles and Harry smirk and dig his fingers into the boney wrists.

Harry couldn’t believe he was doing this but it exhilarated him at the same time! The plan had been to force Malfoy to divulge whatever his plans were by force if necessary, to confront the boy so these thoughts would go away not to act upon his own twisted sexual feelings. Yet here he was, snogging Draco Malfoy and figuring out a way for it to continue.

His hands found their way to the pearly shirt buttons of the cotton shirt separating him from the flesh he had been obsessing over. One by one they slid free and revealed more and more temptation. The only thing going through Harry’s head now was how many ways he could mar that smooth skin.

After pushing the button-up shirt off Malfoy’s shoulders his hands and lips were upon skin once more, and Harry gave into his fantasies. Angry red scratch lines with small dots of vibrant blood and purple hickies appeared on the skinny long torso. The look on Malfoy’s face, when Harry looked up into those silver eyes, was no longer shock or anger, it was pleasure. Harry was sure Malfoy still didn’t want to be in this position, not that he could struggle with the spell on him, but he could no longer defy his body where heavy breathing and a prominent erection gave Malfoy away.

Harry pushed on, feasting upon Malfoy’s body like he had the delectable food at his first school banquet, a treat that one got so rarely they felt in Heaven.

The pants button and zipper were next to go and Harry held his breath as delicate hip bones lead into the Slytherin’s green silk boxers (why did this not surprise Harry?), and the incredibly light trail of hair led, like the road to temptation, down to the depths of Harry’s overactive imagination. Harry once again paused at this point to decorate supple skin. The fact that Malfoy would be covered in large purple bruises when all was said and done greatly amused Harry. He loved the image of Malfoy trying to explain it off to Crabbe and Goyle.

There was clear evidence of Malfoy’s desire now, especially considering how thin the emerald material was. As Harry removed the offending fabric he had to admit he was impressed. He hesitated. What to do now? He had never been this far with anyone, boy or girl and now that he was here he was beginning to get nervous. He had a naked, spell-bound boy in front of him, something he had imagined in his dreams for months now and yet he had no idea what to do. There was a long moment where he just considered the position he was in and then, taking a deep breath, realizing he would probably never get this chance again and that, though nervous, it was going to be well worth it, stood back up from where he had been kneeling. Slipping his hand along Malfoy’s erection Harry smiled as he rejoined their lips and started to slide his fingers up and down the shaft.

It was different stroking Malfoy then when Harry did it to himself, but by the look on Malfoy’s face and silent gasps he figured he was doing a pretty good job. Stroking the head, like he did to himself late at night while imaging this very boy sprawled out on a bed like a buffet for him, Harry added a slight twist of the wrist and a change between fast and slow. He loved the feeling of Malfoy’s speeding heartbeat and erratic breathing and he forced his own erection into Malfoy’s thigh.

Harry’s head was buzzing. It felt like the time he had had a few too many butterbeers last year at the Quidditch celebration when Ron had won them the cup. He felt excited and stupid and shaking and fabulous and like he was about to fall over all at the same time, and his nerves weren’t helping. Yet it was wonderful! And when the image in Harry’s head of Draco as he was now, with his head back against the stone and his eyes closed and his mouth wide with pleasure included Harry rubbing their naked erections together he was forced to comply. He didn’t even pause his hand on Draco but unclasped his pants one-handed and thrust his hips against the others. He let out a cry of pleasure and suddenly his mind felt like it was fragmenting. The friction was unbelievable! This was nothing like masturbating. No, this was flesh on hot flesh and it sent Harry’s head spinning.

Harry wasn’t sure how long it took, he was out of control, too dazed with pleasure, with the feel of the small cuts the wall had punctured in his hand, with Malfoy’s breath on his neck, with the mind-shattering feeling each time the heads rubbed, but before he knew what was happening he was jerking with his release. He realized instantly that he wasn’t the only one - his belly was splashed with creamy cum, and Malfoy’s body was slack considering the spell upon him. Breathing heavily, Harry stared at Malfoy. Did that really just happen? He was shaking and didn’t move until Malfoy slowly looked at him. Their eyes met and Harry, like so many times before, couldn’t read the expression that lurked beneath those fiery orbs.

Slowly, Harry removed the spells that he had placed on the panting boy, cast a cleaning spell and leaned back against the wall. Malfoy didn’t say anything. He groaned as he redressed himself and then turned to look again at Harry.

“You say anything Potter and you’re fucking dead, do you hear me?”

Harry gave a single nod of his head and watched as Malfoy rushed down the corridor and around a bend. Shocked and trying to regain control of his body Harry stood there, leaning heavily against the wall for several minutes. Finally, after his breathing had returned to normal Harry set off back up to the Gryffindor common room. As he threw himself into one of the armchairs next to where Ron was playing Exploding Snap with Dean he knew this confrontation hadn’t suppressed his obsession for Malfoy, in fact, as the scene swam before his eyes he knew that it would just drive him more. And as he stared into the flames of the crackling fire he contemplated more ways to get into the Room of Requirement – this time for more then just figuring what Malfoy was up to.
Tags: [fic], rated: nc-17, round: summer 2007

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