Maxine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maxine_chan) wrote2005-11-03 08:03 pm
maxine_chan) wrote2005-11-03 08:03 pm
FIC: Of Dreams and Nightmares
So I really have no idea where this came from. I sat down to work on my Big Bang fic and instead wrote...this. I blame it on my love for that one moment where Harry (or Draco, but not in this fic) realizes that he kinda-sorta-maybe-just might be attracted to members of his own sex. ^.^
It's completely unbeta'd (didn't really think this little thing was worth it, lol), so if there's any terribly bad mistakes, that's why.
Anyway, so here it is:
Title: Of Dreams and Nightmares
Genre/Warnings: heh, um...slash, a little smut, a tiny bit of angst, maybe? Itty bitty, I promise.
Rating: R
Pairings: right, well, slight Harry/Ron? Sort of? And vaguely implied Harry/Draco. Though there's not really a concrete pairing...
Length: 4,540 words
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.
Summary: You'd think Harry would be used to having nearly prophetic dreams by now. But sometimes things that are revealed in sleep become revelations that would rather be left to the unknown. (finished)
~~Of Dreams and Nightmares~~
The first time it happened, Harry had thought he was dreaming about Ginny. He usually dreamt about Ginny; he liked dreaming about Ginny. The feel of her soft, curvy body against his was familiar and comforting, even if it was something he’d gone without for far too long now and could only experience again in his sleep.
That night, however, something changed. One second Ginny had been curled against him, one of her small hands resting on his chest while he gently stroked her back, and the next second Ginny’s body felt completely wrong. Gone were the round curves of her hips and the long strands of her hair that had been intertwined in his fingers. A startled glance to his side still filled his mind’s eye with ginger hair, so he didn’t think much of it until the person beside him rolled, and suddenly Harry was being pinned to the ground by a still familiar face, however unfamiliar the body pressed against his felt.
“Ron?” Harry gasped, eyes going wide as his friend held his wrists above his head. “What’re you- Shit, you’re not supposed to see these dreams. You’re probably pissed now, aren’t you?” Some part of Harry’s rational mind that wasn’t completely ensconced in his dream informed him that it wasn’t exactly possible for Ron to suddenly leap into his head in the middle of the night, and therefore this Ron was yet another figment of his imagination. But it was easy to forget that when Ron pressed his thigh into Harry’s groin like that and, bloody hell, had Ron always had such a well-sculpted chest?
“Definitely not pissed, Harry,” Ron murmured leaning down and nudging Harry’s chin with his nose. Harry was only slightly disconcerted to find the other boy’s mouth suddenly so close to his own. His attention was focused more on the hardness he felt trapped against his thigh, and tendrils of cold panic were twisting in his chest as it occurred to him that something very wrong was going on here.
“R-Ron…” he said shakily, turning his head up and away from the hot breath that was ghosting over his lips. He tried to squirm away, but Ron was having none of it, and really, having what had to be at least twice of Ginny’s body mass lying on top of him wasn’t that horrible. It was almost…nice. He could feel the heat seeping into his bones, concentrating somewhere low in his stomach and spreading slowly outward. His breathing became ragged as Ron’s thigh pressed against him again, and he was very nearly horrified to feel himself arching his hips off the ground to meet him.
They moved slowly, so slowly it was nearly more frustrating than pleasurable, and Harry found himself trying to speed up the pace. Ron shifted, moving so that his cock pressed against Harry’s and fuck, that was so very wrong, no matter how good it felt.
Gasping, Harry’s mouth sought out Ron’s, and the boy’s name tumbled past his lips yet again. “Ron,” he moaned.
“Harry.”
“Yeah?” Harry said raggedly, sucking in another breath and surging up against Ron, kissing him again.
“Harry.” Wait, that wasn’t right. Ron’s mouth was definitely otherwise occupied at the moment, so how was he talking?
“What, Ron?” Harry asked irritably. The pressure was building up, and his movements sped up almost frantically.
“Harry, mate, wake up.”
“No,” Harry grumbled. He was so close now, and he couldn’t help it as Ron’s name escaped his mouth once again.
“Harry!”
Harry’s eyes snapped open, only to immediately close again as the light pouring in from the windows assaulted him.
“Are you alright?” Harry’s nose wrinkled and he stifled a yawn with his hand, squinting up at the lanky figure standing before his bed. Ron handed him his glasses, and he absentmindedly slid them over his face, before lazily turning to lie on his back. It was only as the sheets settled back down against him that he noticed the sticky wetness on them. His nose wrinkled again, for an entirely different reason this time.
“Had a good dream?” There was something odd about Ron’s voice, and when Harry peered at him, he noticed his cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t really meeting Harry’s eyes. Wonderful. He’d probably heard him moaning out his sister’s name or something-
Wait.
He hadn’t dreamt about Ginny last night. He’d dreamt about-
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Er,” he said intelligently, feeling heat suffuse his cheeks. “I mean- That wasn’t-” And now the panic was back, curling in his chest and turning his stomach to ice. What the hell had that been about??
Now Ron looked amused. “It’s alright,” he said, still sounding slightly embarrassed, but overall good-natured. “Thought I was Ginny, did you?”
“Um, yes, actually,” Harry answered, eyes still wide and he was sure his face was now permanently red. “Well, I mean, you were Ginny. Before you became you. Er…” Oh God, how utterly mortifying. He felt Ron sit gingerly on the bed, as if he was uncertain if he should or not, and Harry immediately pulled his knees up to his chest and eyed the other boy somewhat warily. They weren’t actually going to talk about it…were they?
After a few seconds of tense silence, Ron let out a short laugh and all but bounced off the bed again.
“To breakfast, then?” he said cheerfully, and then he bounded out of the room before Harry could say another word. Harry stared after him for a minute, and then let out a frustrated sound and flung himself down on the bed, dragging the covers up over his head.
* * *
The second time it happened, Ginny wasn’t in the dream at all. Nor, for that matter, was Ron. No, this was worse. Much, much worse.
This time Harry dreamt about Draco Malfoy.
It’s not like he hadn’t ever before. In fact, of the dreams that had not been swiftly swept from his mind come morning that Harry could remember from sixth year, Malfoy had a part in half of them, at least. Of course, these dreams usually involved Harry chasing Malfoy down a long corridor, never able to reach him to matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried. Sometimes the dreams involved Harry alone, endlessly pacing before a stretch of wall on the seventh floor at Hogwarts, knowing that Draco was just on the other side, scheming and plotting. There were also simpler dreams, light and cheerful, where Harry continually caught the snitch out from under Malfoy’s nose in the most important game of Quidditch ever.
This particular dream was not like the rest, though. It started familiarly enough, though even in sleep Harry felt a pang of curiosity. He hadn’t given Malfoy thought for ages now, so why was the other boy suddenly invading his mind?
Harry was chasing him down a long, dark hallway once again. There were no lights that he could make out, yet he could see Malfoy running just in front of him with almost perfect clarity. This was nothing new, and with a burst of annoyance, Harry sped up, willing his legs to move as fast as they possibly could. And it seemed to work. Suddenly Malfoy was only a few feet away, and with a desperate lunge, Harry managed to grab him around the waist and drag him down to the floor.
They rolled a little ways, each trying to pin the other down, and finally Harry managed to slam Malfoy down with such force that his head snapped back against the ground with a painful sounding crack. Panting, chests heaving as they gulped down air, they glared at each other.
“I caught you,” Harry eventually managed to say, shaggy hair falling into eyes though he was too busy grasping at Malfoy’s wrists to brush it away.
“Yes,” Malfoy replied, a smirk slowly curving onto his face. “Now what are you going to do with me?”
Harry didn’t have an answer for that. He only briefly entertained the thought of forcing Malfoy to tell him what he was up to, what he was planning, but he quickly remembered that there was no need for that anymore since Malfoy’s plan had obviously already come to fruition. This confused Harry. What on earth had he been chasing Malfoy for, anyway?
The boy beneath him shifted, making Harry very aware all of a sudden that yes, he was indeed a boy.
“I can think of a few things,” Malfoy said softly, lifting his head off the ground to whisper into Harry’s ear. Then suddenly, even though they hadn’t moved at all, Malfoy was no longer reaching up, so much as he was leaning down, and Harry could very clearly feel the cold, hard stone beneath his back.
“What-”
“Shh.”
Harry’s eyes darted towards Malfoy’s, wide and panicked.
“What are you doing?” he asked forcefully. Or tried to, anyway. His voice wavered a bit too much for his liking.
“Whatever you want me to,” came the drawling reply.
“I…I want you to get off of me.”
Malfoy chuckled, slowing moving further down Harry’s body. “No you don’t.”
“But I-” Harry stopped and swallowed nervously as unfamiliar feeling hands began working their way beneath his shirt. Malfoy’s hot, wet mouth descended on the exposed skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to keep his hips glued to the ground.
“No- I don’t- Ginny-”
“Ginny who?” growled Malfoy, immediately reaching down and cupping Harry through his trousers-…oh. Harry gasped loudly, unable now to keep his hips down as they thrust up to meet Malfoy’s hand. What the bloody hell had happened to his pants?
“Ginny…Ginny, um…uh…” He tried desperately to focus his thoughts, but it was useless since apparently now his shirt was missing too. Harry wasn’t too surprised when he felt warm skin press against his own; of course Malfoy’s clothes would have disappeared as well.
“Ginny… That girl you were running from?”
Startled, Harry blinked and peered at the boy above him.
“I wasn’t running from anything. I was-” He bit back a groan as Malfoy began pulling at his cock in long, slow movements. “-I was…chasing you.” God, was Malfoy trying to torture him?
“You’ve chased me before,” Malfoy murmured, mouth sliding lower to encircle one of Harry nipples. It wasn’t something Harry had ever had done to him before, and he gasped, one of his hands twisting into the soft strands of the Malfoy’s silvery hair.
“Y-yes,” he stuttered, eyes still wide and now focused vaguely on the ceiling.
“And you never caught me?”
“No…”
Malfoy chuckled again, and rose so that he was looking Harry in the face. Harry warily met his gaze.
“So what makes you think I’d let you catch me now?” Harry remained silent beneath him, slowly drawing in deep breaths through his nose. “You weren’t chasing, Potter. You were running.”
And then his mouth descended on Harry’s, and before Harry could do more than let out a startled yelp, Malfoy was moving against him and they were thrusting, gasping, rubbing together in ways Harry hadn’t ever considered before, let alone fantasized about. He arched up, back almost leaving the ground, as Malfoy forced his own hips roughly down, and then Harry was coming and tearing his mouth away so he could gulp down breaths of air. He shuddered and barely noticed when Malfoy came as well, hot and sticky over his stomach, before his lithe body collapsed on top of Harry’s, sweaty and panting and all hard, smooth angles that felt odd against Harry’s chest and-
Harry woke with a sharp gasp, feeling suddenly cold beneath his covers in the room he and Ron were using for their stay at Grimmauld Place. It was strangely quiet, which Harry immediately realized was because Ron wasn’t snoring. He tensed, and then slowly rolled over, eying the bed across from his apprehensively.
Ron was sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, still in his pajamas, and looking at Harry with a furrowed brow.
“…G’morning,” Harry said weakly, praying that Ron hadn’t seen or heard anything weird…
“Hi,” Ron replied neutrally. Then, tilting his head almost imperceptibly, he said simply, “Malfoy, Harry? Come on now, he doesn’t look like my sister at all.”
Harry groaned, pushing himself upright. “How did you know?”
“You were only mumbling his name and writhing around all morning,” Ron answered flatly. Harry groaned again before falling against the headboard and banging the back of his head against it several times.
“What – is – wrong – with – me – Ron?” he asked, punctuating each word with a slam of his head.
“Dunno,” Ron said with a shrug as he leaned back on his hands. “Do you often fanta-…er, dream about other blokes?” Harry shot him a horrified look.
“Bloody hell- NO. Of course not!” Then, after a quick pause, added, “Why, do you?”
Ron snorted. “Hardly.” He looked as Harry carefully, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, before saying tentatively, “Harry, do you think you might be…you know…” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Harry looked at him sharply, a scowl already forming on his face.
“Might be what, Ron?” he asked testily. “Afraid to say it?” Ron shook his head slowly, smiling a little.
“No. I figured you’d be afraid to hear it, is all.”
Harry considered that, decided it was probably true, and then promptly banished all thoughts from his head so that there wasn’t even the smallest threat of that word drifting through his mind.
Because he wasn’t.
He couldn’t possibly be.
Ron sighed when Harry didn’t reply, and began changing into his clothes for the day. Green eyes surreptitiously followed the boy’s movements, lingering on his stomach when he shucked off his shirt and following his hands as he absently pushed his short, messy hair out of his face.
Nope, Harry Potter was definitely not gay.
* * *
“Afraid to say it?”
Harry was dreaming again.
“Afraid to hear it?”
He was with Ron, and they were somewhere familiar. It looked kind of like the common room in the Gryffindor tower, but all the furniture was missing. There was only a large rug in front of the blazing fireplace, which Harry was currently being pushed down onto.
“I’m not afraid,” Harry said defiantly, hands clutching at Ron’s biceps as the boy leaned over him.
“Afraid it’s the truth?”
“It’s not,” Harry growled. He hooked a leg around the back of Ron’s thighs and thrust up against him, enjoying the way one of Ron’s hands trailed up and down his side. The hand stilled, holding his hip in place, and then Ron was moving lower on Harry’s body, his tongue leaving a wet trail the entire way. Harry’s eyes widened and his breath came in quicker and quicker pants as Ron slowly moved towards Harry’s hardening cock.
“Fuck. Ron-” Harry gasped, throwing his head back as Ron gently mouthed the tip. His heart was pounding in his chest. Why was this happening to him? What was he thinking, this was Ron for fuck’s sake, there had to be some sort of explanation-
“What are you doing, Harry?” a soft voice unexpectedly said. Harry dug his hands into his hair and ground his teeth together, breath hissing in and out. He was suddenly inexplicably terrified, and he wanted nothing more than to wake from this nightmare.
“I don’t know,” he moaned, nearly sobbing. There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, and Harry knew immediately knew it belonged to Ron. Though a different Ron than the one that was quickly fading into nothingness as Harry curled into a fetal position and blinked his eyes awake.
“Harry,” Ron said again. Harry grimaced and tugged halfheartedly at the covers, trying to pull them over his head. Ron held on to them, though, and eventually Harry forced himself to sit up and glare in an embarrassed, sullen sort of way at his friend.
“What?” he snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. Ron shrugged.
“You woke me up,” he said, mirroring Harry’s position on the opposite side of the bed. “Talk to me, Harry.”
“What about?”
“What do you think?”
Sighing, Harry began picking at spare threads in the blanket as he tried to form a coherent thought. What could he possibly say to explain all this away?
Luckily, Ron spoke first. “It’s ok, you know.”
“It bloody well is not,” Harry returned immediately. “Who else do you know is…gay?”
“Well, no one,” Ron admitted. “But there have to be other gay wizards out there.” He watched Harry silently for a minute, before continuing, “Do you really think you…might be?”
“No,” Harry retorted, gripping tightly at the covers. “I mean- Well- No, but…I dunno. Maybe. I guess…” He began twisting the blanket in his hands, not really paying attention to what he was doing. “But I like girls, Ron. GIRLS. I liked Cho, I couldn’t get Ginny off my mind for more than two seconds last year-”
“Nor Malfoy,” Ron muttered, and Harry glared at him.
“That was entirely different. I certainly am not attracted to Draco Malfoy of all people.” Ron gave him a pointed look, and Harry flushed. “The other night was a complete fluke. I’ve no idea what brought that on.”
“And last night?” Ron asked, his own cheeks turning slightly pink. “And two nights ago? What about that?”
“I…” Harry trailed off, looking uncertain. “But I like Ginny,” he said, almost desperately. “Ron, you have no idea how much she means to me. She’s…she was…” Ron’s narrowed eyes almost stopped him, but he plowed on regardless. “She was my first…”
“First what?” Ron asked in a threatening tone. Harry merely rolled his eyes and glanced away for a few tense seconds. Eventually Ron sighed, and when Harry looked back at him he saw that he was rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I thought…maybe. But I wasn’t sure. When did that happen?”
Harry looked uncomfortable as he answered, “A few days before she went back to Hogwarts…”
“Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “You - you’d already broken up with her by then!”
“Well, yes. But we were talking and one thing led to another…”
“Was it…” Ron paused, before seemingly stealing himself and asking, “Did you enjoy it?”
Harry scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled, cheeks blushing a deep red.
“You…guess?” Ron cocked an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t really what I expected. She was different.”
“Different…”
“Well…” Harry sighed in frustration. “She had become so outgoing, you know? She had such a blazing personality, not afraid to back down to anything, ready to conquer everything. She’s witty, smart, funny, beautiful… And then suddenly she was very… I don’t know. Shy. Timid. When we were...you know…” He made a vague hand gesture, and Ron’s nose wrinkled as he was forced to think about what his little sister and best friend had done. “She seemed really nervous about the whole thing.”
“Well obviously,” Ron snorted. “It was her first time too. I think,” he added as an afterthought.
“I know. I don’t…I don’t even know if she liked it, though. And she was so…”
“Girly?” Ron supplied.
“Yeah. No!” Harry blinked, looking startled. “No, girly would be a good thing, right? Wait. Bollocks.”
“Calm down, mate,” Ron said, chuckling a bit. “Haven’t I already told you it’s ok?
“But I’m not…” Harry groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not possible to just wake up one day and suddenly find yourself attracted to blokes, is it? You can’t just go, ‘You know what, I think today would be an absolutely spiffing day to be gay.’ It doesn’t work like that!”
“I wouldn’t know, to be honest,” Ron replied, lips quirking into a small grin.
“Fuck. Bloody buggering hell, I just want to be normal!” Harry exclaimed, bending forward and burying his face in his hands. “For one day, just one day. Is that too much to ask? No, I can’t just be the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One- No, now I have to be gay as well!”
“Harry…”
“Normal, Ron! That’s all I want to be. Just…normal.”
There were a few seconds of silence before Ron spoke again. “I dunno, I think after all these years of being your friend, a normal life would just seem dull in comparison.” Harry lifted his head slightly and gave his friend a flat, disbelieving look that made Ron grin. “I mean, who else has a near-death experience at least once a year? I think it’s exciting.”
“Well…” Harry smiled a little himself. “I suppose that’s all well and good. But now throw boys into the mix and that is just so completely not on.”
“Maybe it’s just a phase,” Ron offered. “Maybe it means nothing at all. Maybe you’re just having a few nights of odd dreams.”
Harry considered this, and then peered thoughtfully at Ron. “I suppose,” he said slowly. Then, with an innocent face, “Ron, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Kiss me.”
“Haha, right.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Oh, you’re serious?”
“Um…yeah.”
Ron looked flustered and he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Er… But I… I mean, they’re your dreams, Harry. I’m fairly certain I’m straight. No – no offence or anything…”
“No, I know that, you pillock,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’m trying to make something happen here, I just… I need to…”
“You’re not going to know if you like guys just from one kiss,” Ron pointed out. “A mouth’s a mouth, after all.”
“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. “But you never know.”
They stared at each other for a moment more, and then Ron’s shoulders slumped. “You really want to kiss me?” he asked resignedly. Harry nodded, and Ron let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alright then.”
It was awkward at first, though that was pretty much expected. Ron’s eyes were screwed shut, as were Harry’s, and it was a wonder they managed to find each other’s lips at all. When they did, Harry opened his eyes a crack, only to find Ron was staring at him through one eye already, and that immediately caused them to dissolve into embarrassed sniggers against each other.
That helped, though. They each managed to relax a bit, and lips that had been merely pressed against lips before softened and pushed together now, slowly parting so that tongues could tentatively peek out. When they touched, Ron jolted, nearly tearing away, but Harry grabbed him quickly and held him in place.
Then it changed. Harry was used to being in control when he kissed someone. Not that he had kissed all that many people, but with Ginny she had definitely let him hold the reigns as he plundered her mouth. Now, though, Ron was giving as much as he was getting, and their tongues pushed and twisted and twined together as both of them fought for dominance over the other in an unspoken challenge.
Harry still had his hands grabbing at Ron’s shirt from when he’d had to hold him in place, so it was somewhat of a surprise when those hands were knocked away and Ron was suddenly cupping his face, using his own hands to forcefully tilt Harry’s head back so he could have better access to his mouth. Harry gasped into the kiss and whatever duel they had just been having, Ron won.
Going boneless, Harry nearly melted against the other boy. His arms went behind Ron’s back as Ron not-so-gently pushed him back on the bed. This was what his dreams had been about, and experiencing it for real was definitely a million times better. That hard chest against his own, those strong hands holding him down… Harry gladly handed over control to Ron, only praying that it didn’t end anytime soon, God please don’t let it end-
Ron pulled back suddenly, gasping for air, and unconsciously wiped a hand across the back of his mouth. Harry ignored the pang in his chest at the act, and pushed himself up onto his elbows, following Ron’s eyesight down to his very obviously tented pajama bottoms.
“Well,” Ron said simply, still panting a little. “I suppose that answers that question.” Harry flushed and looked back up at Ron.
“Don’t suppose it happened to you?” he mumbled a little, moving so that he was sitting cross-legged so he could shove his hands into his lap.
Ron shook his head, looking almost apologetic. “Nothing. I couldn’t get it out of my head that I was kissing my best mate. And I was positive Hermione was going to burst into the room or something…”
Harry laughed shortly, though it didn’t sound right. He felt weird. There was a burning behind his eyes that he was desperately trying to ignore, and he felt as if there was an invisible hand squeezing something in his chest.
“Don’t tell Hermione, alright?” he said softly.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Ron replied. “That’d be a bit awkward, don’t you think?”
“No, not about that. Don’t tell her that I might be…gay…” Harry clarified, still horribly uncomfortable with referring to himself that way. Ron looked at him silently for a moment, and then nodded.
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
Harry nodded back at him, and then sniffed and had to look away. He felt Ron lay a hand on his knee as he said gently, “Hey…”
“What?” Harry asked thickly.
“We’re alright, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah we’re fine.” And they really were. It wasn’t like Harry had expected or even wanted anything from Ron. And yet… His eye stung suddenly, and he rubbed at it irritably. He was not terribly surprised when his fingers came away damp. “Fuck,” he choked plaintively, a near-hysterical sounding laugh escaping his lips at the ridiculousness of himself.
“Harry. Harry, listen to me,” Ron said sternly, grabbing Harry’s hand and forcing the boy to look at him. “You’re fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. Alright? Don’t worry so much about it.”
“Says you,” Harry retorted sullenly, but he nodded all the same. “Right. Right, sorry, I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not,” Ron assured him.
“I’m going to stick with your ‘it’s-just-a-phase’ suggestion, I think,” Harry said, smiling a little. “Until I have a better idea, anyway.”
“Good luck with that,” Ron said, laughing somewhat darkly. “You still need to get You-Know-Who out of the way before anyone can have a proper social life again.”
Harry sighed and nodded. “Well that’s another motive to kill Him, anyway. Reason number one that Voldemort needs to die.” He ignored Ron’s wince at the name, and mimed slowly writing something on an invisible piece of parchment. “Harry… needs… to… explore… his… ho…mo…sexual… side. Yep, that’ll please everyone, I’m sure.”
“Any reason to kill that bastard is a good enough reason for me.”
“Yeah. Oh, bollocks, I suppose I’ll have to break up with Ginny properly now. Again.”
Ron laughed. “Mate, I’ll stick with you through thick and then, but that…that is something you have to do on your own.” Harry grinned as well.
“As long as you’re with me through everything else.”
“I will be. Promise.”
FIN
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yeah, like I said, I have no idea where that came from. And I suppose there wasn't really a specific nightmare, but I liked the title so nyah. =P
Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you thought?
*~Maxine~*
You can also read it at my website, or at Skyehawke.
♥
It's completely unbeta'd (didn't really think this little thing was worth it, lol), so if there's any terribly bad mistakes, that's why.
Anyway, so here it is:
Title: Of Dreams and Nightmares
Genre/Warnings: heh, um...slash, a little smut, a tiny bit of angst, maybe? Itty bitty, I promise.
Rating: R
Pairings: right, well, slight Harry/Ron? Sort of? And vaguely implied Harry/Draco. Though there's not really a concrete pairing...
Length: 4,540 words
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.
Summary: You'd think Harry would be used to having nearly prophetic dreams by now. But sometimes things that are revealed in sleep become revelations that would rather be left to the unknown. (finished)
~~Of Dreams and Nightmares~~
The first time it happened, Harry had thought he was dreaming about Ginny. He usually dreamt about Ginny; he liked dreaming about Ginny. The feel of her soft, curvy body against his was familiar and comforting, even if it was something he’d gone without for far too long now and could only experience again in his sleep.
That night, however, something changed. One second Ginny had been curled against him, one of her small hands resting on his chest while he gently stroked her back, and the next second Ginny’s body felt completely wrong. Gone were the round curves of her hips and the long strands of her hair that had been intertwined in his fingers. A startled glance to his side still filled his mind’s eye with ginger hair, so he didn’t think much of it until the person beside him rolled, and suddenly Harry was being pinned to the ground by a still familiar face, however unfamiliar the body pressed against his felt.
“Ron?” Harry gasped, eyes going wide as his friend held his wrists above his head. “What’re you- Shit, you’re not supposed to see these dreams. You’re probably pissed now, aren’t you?” Some part of Harry’s rational mind that wasn’t completely ensconced in his dream informed him that it wasn’t exactly possible for Ron to suddenly leap into his head in the middle of the night, and therefore this Ron was yet another figment of his imagination. But it was easy to forget that when Ron pressed his thigh into Harry’s groin like that and, bloody hell, had Ron always had such a well-sculpted chest?
“Definitely not pissed, Harry,” Ron murmured leaning down and nudging Harry’s chin with his nose. Harry was only slightly disconcerted to find the other boy’s mouth suddenly so close to his own. His attention was focused more on the hardness he felt trapped against his thigh, and tendrils of cold panic were twisting in his chest as it occurred to him that something very wrong was going on here.
“R-Ron…” he said shakily, turning his head up and away from the hot breath that was ghosting over his lips. He tried to squirm away, but Ron was having none of it, and really, having what had to be at least twice of Ginny’s body mass lying on top of him wasn’t that horrible. It was almost…nice. He could feel the heat seeping into his bones, concentrating somewhere low in his stomach and spreading slowly outward. His breathing became ragged as Ron’s thigh pressed against him again, and he was very nearly horrified to feel himself arching his hips off the ground to meet him.
They moved slowly, so slowly it was nearly more frustrating than pleasurable, and Harry found himself trying to speed up the pace. Ron shifted, moving so that his cock pressed against Harry’s and fuck, that was so very wrong, no matter how good it felt.
Gasping, Harry’s mouth sought out Ron’s, and the boy’s name tumbled past his lips yet again. “Ron,” he moaned.
“Harry.”
“Yeah?” Harry said raggedly, sucking in another breath and surging up against Ron, kissing him again.
“Harry.” Wait, that wasn’t right. Ron’s mouth was definitely otherwise occupied at the moment, so how was he talking?
“What, Ron?” Harry asked irritably. The pressure was building up, and his movements sped up almost frantically.
“Harry, mate, wake up.”
“No,” Harry grumbled. He was so close now, and he couldn’t help it as Ron’s name escaped his mouth once again.
“Harry!”
Harry’s eyes snapped open, only to immediately close again as the light pouring in from the windows assaulted him.
“Are you alright?” Harry’s nose wrinkled and he stifled a yawn with his hand, squinting up at the lanky figure standing before his bed. Ron handed him his glasses, and he absentmindedly slid them over his face, before lazily turning to lie on his back. It was only as the sheets settled back down against him that he noticed the sticky wetness on them. His nose wrinkled again, for an entirely different reason this time.
“Had a good dream?” There was something odd about Ron’s voice, and when Harry peered at him, he noticed his cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t really meeting Harry’s eyes. Wonderful. He’d probably heard him moaning out his sister’s name or something-
Wait.
He hadn’t dreamt about Ginny last night. He’d dreamt about-
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Er,” he said intelligently, feeling heat suffuse his cheeks. “I mean- That wasn’t-” And now the panic was back, curling in his chest and turning his stomach to ice. What the hell had that been about??
Now Ron looked amused. “It’s alright,” he said, still sounding slightly embarrassed, but overall good-natured. “Thought I was Ginny, did you?”
“Um, yes, actually,” Harry answered, eyes still wide and he was sure his face was now permanently red. “Well, I mean, you were Ginny. Before you became you. Er…” Oh God, how utterly mortifying. He felt Ron sit gingerly on the bed, as if he was uncertain if he should or not, and Harry immediately pulled his knees up to his chest and eyed the other boy somewhat warily. They weren’t actually going to talk about it…were they?
After a few seconds of tense silence, Ron let out a short laugh and all but bounced off the bed again.
“To breakfast, then?” he said cheerfully, and then he bounded out of the room before Harry could say another word. Harry stared after him for a minute, and then let out a frustrated sound and flung himself down on the bed, dragging the covers up over his head.
* * *
The second time it happened, Ginny wasn’t in the dream at all. Nor, for that matter, was Ron. No, this was worse. Much, much worse.
This time Harry dreamt about Draco Malfoy.
It’s not like he hadn’t ever before. In fact, of the dreams that had not been swiftly swept from his mind come morning that Harry could remember from sixth year, Malfoy had a part in half of them, at least. Of course, these dreams usually involved Harry chasing Malfoy down a long corridor, never able to reach him to matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried. Sometimes the dreams involved Harry alone, endlessly pacing before a stretch of wall on the seventh floor at Hogwarts, knowing that Draco was just on the other side, scheming and plotting. There were also simpler dreams, light and cheerful, where Harry continually caught the snitch out from under Malfoy’s nose in the most important game of Quidditch ever.
This particular dream was not like the rest, though. It started familiarly enough, though even in sleep Harry felt a pang of curiosity. He hadn’t given Malfoy thought for ages now, so why was the other boy suddenly invading his mind?
Harry was chasing him down a long, dark hallway once again. There were no lights that he could make out, yet he could see Malfoy running just in front of him with almost perfect clarity. This was nothing new, and with a burst of annoyance, Harry sped up, willing his legs to move as fast as they possibly could. And it seemed to work. Suddenly Malfoy was only a few feet away, and with a desperate lunge, Harry managed to grab him around the waist and drag him down to the floor.
They rolled a little ways, each trying to pin the other down, and finally Harry managed to slam Malfoy down with such force that his head snapped back against the ground with a painful sounding crack. Panting, chests heaving as they gulped down air, they glared at each other.
“I caught you,” Harry eventually managed to say, shaggy hair falling into eyes though he was too busy grasping at Malfoy’s wrists to brush it away.
“Yes,” Malfoy replied, a smirk slowly curving onto his face. “Now what are you going to do with me?”
Harry didn’t have an answer for that. He only briefly entertained the thought of forcing Malfoy to tell him what he was up to, what he was planning, but he quickly remembered that there was no need for that anymore since Malfoy’s plan had obviously already come to fruition. This confused Harry. What on earth had he been chasing Malfoy for, anyway?
The boy beneath him shifted, making Harry very aware all of a sudden that yes, he was indeed a boy.
“I can think of a few things,” Malfoy said softly, lifting his head off the ground to whisper into Harry’s ear. Then suddenly, even though they hadn’t moved at all, Malfoy was no longer reaching up, so much as he was leaning down, and Harry could very clearly feel the cold, hard stone beneath his back.
“What-”
“Shh.”
Harry’s eyes darted towards Malfoy’s, wide and panicked.
“What are you doing?” he asked forcefully. Or tried to, anyway. His voice wavered a bit too much for his liking.
“Whatever you want me to,” came the drawling reply.
“I…I want you to get off of me.”
Malfoy chuckled, slowing moving further down Harry’s body. “No you don’t.”
“But I-” Harry stopped and swallowed nervously as unfamiliar feeling hands began working their way beneath his shirt. Malfoy’s hot, wet mouth descended on the exposed skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to keep his hips glued to the ground.
“No- I don’t- Ginny-”
“Ginny who?” growled Malfoy, immediately reaching down and cupping Harry through his trousers-…oh. Harry gasped loudly, unable now to keep his hips down as they thrust up to meet Malfoy’s hand. What the bloody hell had happened to his pants?
“Ginny…Ginny, um…uh…” He tried desperately to focus his thoughts, but it was useless since apparently now his shirt was missing too. Harry wasn’t too surprised when he felt warm skin press against his own; of course Malfoy’s clothes would have disappeared as well.
“Ginny… That girl you were running from?”
Startled, Harry blinked and peered at the boy above him.
“I wasn’t running from anything. I was-” He bit back a groan as Malfoy began pulling at his cock in long, slow movements. “-I was…chasing you.” God, was Malfoy trying to torture him?
“You’ve chased me before,” Malfoy murmured, mouth sliding lower to encircle one of Harry nipples. It wasn’t something Harry had ever had done to him before, and he gasped, one of his hands twisting into the soft strands of the Malfoy’s silvery hair.
“Y-yes,” he stuttered, eyes still wide and now focused vaguely on the ceiling.
“And you never caught me?”
“No…”
Malfoy chuckled again, and rose so that he was looking Harry in the face. Harry warily met his gaze.
“So what makes you think I’d let you catch me now?” Harry remained silent beneath him, slowly drawing in deep breaths through his nose. “You weren’t chasing, Potter. You were running.”
And then his mouth descended on Harry’s, and before Harry could do more than let out a startled yelp, Malfoy was moving against him and they were thrusting, gasping, rubbing together in ways Harry hadn’t ever considered before, let alone fantasized about. He arched up, back almost leaving the ground, as Malfoy forced his own hips roughly down, and then Harry was coming and tearing his mouth away so he could gulp down breaths of air. He shuddered and barely noticed when Malfoy came as well, hot and sticky over his stomach, before his lithe body collapsed on top of Harry’s, sweaty and panting and all hard, smooth angles that felt odd against Harry’s chest and-
Harry woke with a sharp gasp, feeling suddenly cold beneath his covers in the room he and Ron were using for their stay at Grimmauld Place. It was strangely quiet, which Harry immediately realized was because Ron wasn’t snoring. He tensed, and then slowly rolled over, eying the bed across from his apprehensively.
Ron was sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, still in his pajamas, and looking at Harry with a furrowed brow.
“…G’morning,” Harry said weakly, praying that Ron hadn’t seen or heard anything weird…
“Hi,” Ron replied neutrally. Then, tilting his head almost imperceptibly, he said simply, “Malfoy, Harry? Come on now, he doesn’t look like my sister at all.”
Harry groaned, pushing himself upright. “How did you know?”
“You were only mumbling his name and writhing around all morning,” Ron answered flatly. Harry groaned again before falling against the headboard and banging the back of his head against it several times.
“What – is – wrong – with – me – Ron?” he asked, punctuating each word with a slam of his head.
“Dunno,” Ron said with a shrug as he leaned back on his hands. “Do you often fanta-…er, dream about other blokes?” Harry shot him a horrified look.
“Bloody hell- NO. Of course not!” Then, after a quick pause, added, “Why, do you?”
Ron snorted. “Hardly.” He looked as Harry carefully, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, before saying tentatively, “Harry, do you think you might be…you know…” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Harry looked at him sharply, a scowl already forming on his face.
“Might be what, Ron?” he asked testily. “Afraid to say it?” Ron shook his head slowly, smiling a little.
“No. I figured you’d be afraid to hear it, is all.”
Harry considered that, decided it was probably true, and then promptly banished all thoughts from his head so that there wasn’t even the smallest threat of that word drifting through his mind.
Because he wasn’t.
He couldn’t possibly be.
Ron sighed when Harry didn’t reply, and began changing into his clothes for the day. Green eyes surreptitiously followed the boy’s movements, lingering on his stomach when he shucked off his shirt and following his hands as he absently pushed his short, messy hair out of his face.
Nope, Harry Potter was definitely not gay.
* * *
“Afraid to say it?”
Harry was dreaming again.
“Afraid to hear it?”
He was with Ron, and they were somewhere familiar. It looked kind of like the common room in the Gryffindor tower, but all the furniture was missing. There was only a large rug in front of the blazing fireplace, which Harry was currently being pushed down onto.
“I’m not afraid,” Harry said defiantly, hands clutching at Ron’s biceps as the boy leaned over him.
“Afraid it’s the truth?”
“It’s not,” Harry growled. He hooked a leg around the back of Ron’s thighs and thrust up against him, enjoying the way one of Ron’s hands trailed up and down his side. The hand stilled, holding his hip in place, and then Ron was moving lower on Harry’s body, his tongue leaving a wet trail the entire way. Harry’s eyes widened and his breath came in quicker and quicker pants as Ron slowly moved towards Harry’s hardening cock.
“Fuck. Ron-” Harry gasped, throwing his head back as Ron gently mouthed the tip. His heart was pounding in his chest. Why was this happening to him? What was he thinking, this was Ron for fuck’s sake, there had to be some sort of explanation-
“What are you doing, Harry?” a soft voice unexpectedly said. Harry dug his hands into his hair and ground his teeth together, breath hissing in and out. He was suddenly inexplicably terrified, and he wanted nothing more than to wake from this nightmare.
“I don’t know,” he moaned, nearly sobbing. There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, and Harry knew immediately knew it belonged to Ron. Though a different Ron than the one that was quickly fading into nothingness as Harry curled into a fetal position and blinked his eyes awake.
“Harry,” Ron said again. Harry grimaced and tugged halfheartedly at the covers, trying to pull them over his head. Ron held on to them, though, and eventually Harry forced himself to sit up and glare in an embarrassed, sullen sort of way at his friend.
“What?” he snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. Ron shrugged.
“You woke me up,” he said, mirroring Harry’s position on the opposite side of the bed. “Talk to me, Harry.”
“What about?”
“What do you think?”
Sighing, Harry began picking at spare threads in the blanket as he tried to form a coherent thought. What could he possibly say to explain all this away?
Luckily, Ron spoke first. “It’s ok, you know.”
“It bloody well is not,” Harry returned immediately. “Who else do you know is…gay?”
“Well, no one,” Ron admitted. “But there have to be other gay wizards out there.” He watched Harry silently for a minute, before continuing, “Do you really think you…might be?”
“No,” Harry retorted, gripping tightly at the covers. “I mean- Well- No, but…I dunno. Maybe. I guess…” He began twisting the blanket in his hands, not really paying attention to what he was doing. “But I like girls, Ron. GIRLS. I liked Cho, I couldn’t get Ginny off my mind for more than two seconds last year-”
“Nor Malfoy,” Ron muttered, and Harry glared at him.
“That was entirely different. I certainly am not attracted to Draco Malfoy of all people.” Ron gave him a pointed look, and Harry flushed. “The other night was a complete fluke. I’ve no idea what brought that on.”
“And last night?” Ron asked, his own cheeks turning slightly pink. “And two nights ago? What about that?”
“I…” Harry trailed off, looking uncertain. “But I like Ginny,” he said, almost desperately. “Ron, you have no idea how much she means to me. She’s…she was…” Ron’s narrowed eyes almost stopped him, but he plowed on regardless. “She was my first…”
“First what?” Ron asked in a threatening tone. Harry merely rolled his eyes and glanced away for a few tense seconds. Eventually Ron sighed, and when Harry looked back at him he saw that he was rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I thought…maybe. But I wasn’t sure. When did that happen?”
Harry looked uncomfortable as he answered, “A few days before she went back to Hogwarts…”
“Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “You - you’d already broken up with her by then!”
“Well, yes. But we were talking and one thing led to another…”
“Was it…” Ron paused, before seemingly stealing himself and asking, “Did you enjoy it?”
Harry scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled, cheeks blushing a deep red.
“You…guess?” Ron cocked an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t really what I expected. She was different.”
“Different…”
“Well…” Harry sighed in frustration. “She had become so outgoing, you know? She had such a blazing personality, not afraid to back down to anything, ready to conquer everything. She’s witty, smart, funny, beautiful… And then suddenly she was very… I don’t know. Shy. Timid. When we were...you know…” He made a vague hand gesture, and Ron’s nose wrinkled as he was forced to think about what his little sister and best friend had done. “She seemed really nervous about the whole thing.”
“Well obviously,” Ron snorted. “It was her first time too. I think,” he added as an afterthought.
“I know. I don’t…I don’t even know if she liked it, though. And she was so…”
“Girly?” Ron supplied.
“Yeah. No!” Harry blinked, looking startled. “No, girly would be a good thing, right? Wait. Bollocks.”
“Calm down, mate,” Ron said, chuckling a bit. “Haven’t I already told you it’s ok?
“But I’m not…” Harry groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not possible to just wake up one day and suddenly find yourself attracted to blokes, is it? You can’t just go, ‘You know what, I think today would be an absolutely spiffing day to be gay.’ It doesn’t work like that!”
“I wouldn’t know, to be honest,” Ron replied, lips quirking into a small grin.
“Fuck. Bloody buggering hell, I just want to be normal!” Harry exclaimed, bending forward and burying his face in his hands. “For one day, just one day. Is that too much to ask? No, I can’t just be the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One- No, now I have to be gay as well!”
“Harry…”
“Normal, Ron! That’s all I want to be. Just…normal.”
There were a few seconds of silence before Ron spoke again. “I dunno, I think after all these years of being your friend, a normal life would just seem dull in comparison.” Harry lifted his head slightly and gave his friend a flat, disbelieving look that made Ron grin. “I mean, who else has a near-death experience at least once a year? I think it’s exciting.”
“Well…” Harry smiled a little himself. “I suppose that’s all well and good. But now throw boys into the mix and that is just so completely not on.”
“Maybe it’s just a phase,” Ron offered. “Maybe it means nothing at all. Maybe you’re just having a few nights of odd dreams.”
Harry considered this, and then peered thoughtfully at Ron. “I suppose,” he said slowly. Then, with an innocent face, “Ron, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Kiss me.”
“Haha, right.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Oh, you’re serious?”
“Um…yeah.”
Ron looked flustered and he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Er… But I… I mean, they’re your dreams, Harry. I’m fairly certain I’m straight. No – no offence or anything…”
“No, I know that, you pillock,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’m trying to make something happen here, I just… I need to…”
“You’re not going to know if you like guys just from one kiss,” Ron pointed out. “A mouth’s a mouth, after all.”
“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. “But you never know.”
They stared at each other for a moment more, and then Ron’s shoulders slumped. “You really want to kiss me?” he asked resignedly. Harry nodded, and Ron let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alright then.”
It was awkward at first, though that was pretty much expected. Ron’s eyes were screwed shut, as were Harry’s, and it was a wonder they managed to find each other’s lips at all. When they did, Harry opened his eyes a crack, only to find Ron was staring at him through one eye already, and that immediately caused them to dissolve into embarrassed sniggers against each other.
That helped, though. They each managed to relax a bit, and lips that had been merely pressed against lips before softened and pushed together now, slowly parting so that tongues could tentatively peek out. When they touched, Ron jolted, nearly tearing away, but Harry grabbed him quickly and held him in place.
Then it changed. Harry was used to being in control when he kissed someone. Not that he had kissed all that many people, but with Ginny she had definitely let him hold the reigns as he plundered her mouth. Now, though, Ron was giving as much as he was getting, and their tongues pushed and twisted and twined together as both of them fought for dominance over the other in an unspoken challenge.
Harry still had his hands grabbing at Ron’s shirt from when he’d had to hold him in place, so it was somewhat of a surprise when those hands were knocked away and Ron was suddenly cupping his face, using his own hands to forcefully tilt Harry’s head back so he could have better access to his mouth. Harry gasped into the kiss and whatever duel they had just been having, Ron won.
Going boneless, Harry nearly melted against the other boy. His arms went behind Ron’s back as Ron not-so-gently pushed him back on the bed. This was what his dreams had been about, and experiencing it for real was definitely a million times better. That hard chest against his own, those strong hands holding him down… Harry gladly handed over control to Ron, only praying that it didn’t end anytime soon, God please don’t let it end-
Ron pulled back suddenly, gasping for air, and unconsciously wiped a hand across the back of his mouth. Harry ignored the pang in his chest at the act, and pushed himself up onto his elbows, following Ron’s eyesight down to his very obviously tented pajama bottoms.
“Well,” Ron said simply, still panting a little. “I suppose that answers that question.” Harry flushed and looked back up at Ron.
“Don’t suppose it happened to you?” he mumbled a little, moving so that he was sitting cross-legged so he could shove his hands into his lap.
Ron shook his head, looking almost apologetic. “Nothing. I couldn’t get it out of my head that I was kissing my best mate. And I was positive Hermione was going to burst into the room or something…”
Harry laughed shortly, though it didn’t sound right. He felt weird. There was a burning behind his eyes that he was desperately trying to ignore, and he felt as if there was an invisible hand squeezing something in his chest.
“Don’t tell Hermione, alright?” he said softly.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Ron replied. “That’d be a bit awkward, don’t you think?”
“No, not about that. Don’t tell her that I might be…gay…” Harry clarified, still horribly uncomfortable with referring to himself that way. Ron looked at him silently for a moment, and then nodded.
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
Harry nodded back at him, and then sniffed and had to look away. He felt Ron lay a hand on his knee as he said gently, “Hey…”
“What?” Harry asked thickly.
“We’re alright, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah we’re fine.” And they really were. It wasn’t like Harry had expected or even wanted anything from Ron. And yet… His eye stung suddenly, and he rubbed at it irritably. He was not terribly surprised when his fingers came away damp. “Fuck,” he choked plaintively, a near-hysterical sounding laugh escaping his lips at the ridiculousness of himself.
“Harry. Harry, listen to me,” Ron said sternly, grabbing Harry’s hand and forcing the boy to look at him. “You’re fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. Alright? Don’t worry so much about it.”
“Says you,” Harry retorted sullenly, but he nodded all the same. “Right. Right, sorry, I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not,” Ron assured him.
“I’m going to stick with your ‘it’s-just-a-phase’ suggestion, I think,” Harry said, smiling a little. “Until I have a better idea, anyway.”
“Good luck with that,” Ron said, laughing somewhat darkly. “You still need to get You-Know-Who out of the way before anyone can have a proper social life again.”
Harry sighed and nodded. “Well that’s another motive to kill Him, anyway. Reason number one that Voldemort needs to die.” He ignored Ron’s wince at the name, and mimed slowly writing something on an invisible piece of parchment. “Harry… needs… to… explore… his… ho…mo…sexual… side. Yep, that’ll please everyone, I’m sure.”
“Any reason to kill that bastard is a good enough reason for me.”
“Yeah. Oh, bollocks, I suppose I’ll have to break up with Ginny properly now. Again.”
Ron laughed. “Mate, I’ll stick with you through thick and then, but that…that is something you have to do on your own.” Harry grinned as well.
“As long as you’re with me through everything else.”
“I will be. Promise.”
FIN
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Yeah, like I said, I have no idea where that came from. And I suppose there wasn't really a specific nightmare, but I liked the title so nyah. =P
Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you thought?
*~Maxine~*
You can also read it at my website, or at Skyehawke.
♥