Untitled Part 1

38

"What are you doing?"

Draco simply disregarded Harry's question as he managed to get up from the sheets onto his feet. The other boy only watched him walk over to Blaise's space, and lazily open the drawer beside the bed. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of Malfoy holding a large bottle of Firewhiskey in his left hand—he held onto it so nonchalantly that it seemed like it could slip from his palm at any minute and break.

"You moron! Are you crazy? How far are you willing to take this, Malfoy? What's next, Viagra pills?"

Draco did not leave any sort of response to Harry, but a mischievous smirk curled up on his pale lips as he gaped at the groaning boy.

"You're kidding, right?" Huffed Harry, his tone cold and harsh but at the same time he didn't seem surprised.

"Oh come on, it's just one night, Potty. Live it." He breathed out. "Besides, don't worry, we're not drinking any just yet. I want to show you something first." Said Malfoy as he drew closer and knelt down, pulling a large leather bound book from under the bed.

Wordlessly, he laid it out on the sheets.

At first, Harry was confused—he thought it was going to be one of Draco's many tricks or something. But after the blonde boy signalled him to come closer, Harry took in into consideration and joined him in a kneeling position on the floorboards to have a better look.

He was speechless.

Nothing could have prepared him for the contents.

Hours and hours of the most delicate artwork Harry'd ever seen covered every beautiful page; pictures of the castle shrouded in clouds, of the view of the lake from his window, and dark, twisted self-portraits, where Draco had drawn himself in charcoal with his eyes scored out and the dark mark emblazoned over his forehead, chest, as well as both arms. That particular series had small wet splatters all over it—which had been smudged out with chalky fingers.

And then, towards the back, was Harry.

The sketches weren't at all explicit or vulgar, yet they still had an incredible intimacy about them which made them seem as though they shouldn't be viewed.
It was Harry, in a way that only Draco had ever seen him.
Harry, beautiful, but torn apart, angry, and wrecked.
Harry's soul on the page.

He'd left the colour out of the sketches but somehow Draco knew you could still feel it. Harry clearly could, because he went red the second he saw it.

He's drawn me in venom, he couldn't help thinking, drawn me dripping in it, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"I didn't know you did this." Whispered Harry, and Malfoy shrugged.

"I don't know why I do."

After a frozen moment, Draco arched his muse gently back over the pictures of himself, hovering above his face for a second to drink him in:
And so the artist makes love to his art, he thought. What a dream.

He then suddenly began tiding them up in order to put them back, and Harry couldn't object as he was too busy feeling surprised and flushed.

"Okay. Enough of that. I have something way more fun to do." Said Malfoy.

Harry was still pretty shocked from what he'd seen, but he had to disregard his happy little feelings for now, because reality is, that Draco is still high—so he kept in mind to not fully believe everything he does or says tonight.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Dear Merlin, what now?"

And once again, Malfoy left Potter hanging with no response. He only reached out for the bottle from beside him, and then shared a glance with Harry. He slowly popped it open, allowing some of the liquid to spill over the sheets, and took a sip directly from the tip.
He then offered some to Harry, who refused—but Malfoy wasn't going to have it like that.

He set the bottle aside, and leaned closer to the sober boy's flushed face. Opening his mouth, he let a pretty stream of Firewhiskey drip from his lips into Harry's surprisingly willing open mouth.

And that was enough of a wave to start a tsunami.

Harry's head was spinning hard before he even kissed Draco back, and his skin tingled with an unfamiliar level of elation—part of it must be the alcohol, he assumed, but part had to be the intoxicating glory of Draco Malfoy and his lips.

But then, reality hit him like a train. He remembered the state that Malfoy's in and decided to pull away from the kiss—as much pleasure it brought him.
And to his astonishment, Draco let him.
The blonde only straddled Harry in order to reach his drawers, putting more weight on him than he had before. He rummaged through it and drew out a plastic sheet of blue tablets marked with a telltale 'V', the packet at least a quarter empty.

"What is that?" Questioned Harry. Part of him knew that it was bad news but he still managed to act clueless.

"I told you. Let's have a wild time tonight. In honour of our first day back." Sighed Draco dramatically. "Viagra."

"You moron! I thought that was a joke!"

"Well, does it look like a joke now?"

"You're fucking seventeen! Why on earth do you have that?"

Malfoy looked at him as if he was stupid.
"Obviously because I fuck on Molly?" He watched with raised eyebrows as Potter's eyes grew wide. "Oh come on! That's not even the fun part."

"What do you mean by that?" Question Harry, clearly annoyed.

"You see, Potty." He smirked, holding the still-closed bag of Viagra between his finger tips. "These little fuckers aren't just any type of drug." Draco paused, gaping at the confused sight of Harry. "They're spelled with Veritaserum......

and we're about to see if it works."