In Your Mind's Eye.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

(Disclaimer: this story and its characters belong to J.K.Rowling.)

Song: Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco.

Whoop-de-doo.

Just a note, if I ever have any editor notes, about the story, I'll normally comment on my sign off (-R xx), for example if there are spoilers or something. However if I've made a spelling or grammar error, I'll also comment on that and correct it. I can't change it or edit it, as the app is playing up for me.

;) I seriously love you all. You are what makes me happy, in all honesty. Btw, if you have any questions for me about anything, just ask. I'm friendly.

- R xx

Harry often wondered if he was the only person who had those surreal moments- those times when something is so, completely overwhelming, that it feels like you have left you're own body.

And, at first, that was what it felt like when Draco Malfoy kissed him. It took a few moments to feel something, to receive a reaction, but then...gradually...

Harry's lips came to life against Draco's. He felt himself being backed up against the door behind him, felt hands on his hips. And Harry found his own hands, tangling themselves in Draco's hair.

Pulling the boy closer, he kissed him again, all at once, properly, deeply, lips moving as if to a rhythm against eachother.

Draco tasted like mint and lavender, and Harry could hear, could feel the rapid beat of his heart, so close was their proximity.

It all just felt so right. That heat in the air, that shiver down Harry's spine, the feel, the touch...

All the careful and slow movements from before had disappeared quickly. Draco's mouth, rough against his, pinned him in place, teeth and tongue and lips capturing Harry and freezing him on the spot.

Harry could feel his own flushed cheeks burning, could sense the certain urgency in this kiss, but at that very moment, he found that he didn't care about rushing or about order.

"Harry-" Draco began, voice a breathless mumble. But Harry shook his head slightly, not ready to part just yet. He curled his fingers in the boy's hair, moving again to steal Draco's lips.

Everything was so soft and hot and dark and Harry just couldn't seem to think anymore- hurricanes spun inside his head, disorienting him.

In a way, it was both complicated and simple. It was fire meet ice, hot meet cold, melting, burning, falling; all these feelings raging inside him and drowning his lungs.

But it didn't matter, because Harry didn't even know if he needed air anymore.

It was almost as if flowers had been planted in his head, growing, spreading blossoming, twisting themselves around his brain and transforming it into something new. Something beautiful but unexpected.

As everything began to quieten, slowly, Harry eventually pulled away, dropping his forehead onto Draco's shoulder. His hands moved down gently, tracing the curves of the boy's body, from his hair down his tattooed biceps, to his hips. Fingers followed the grooves of Draco's stomach underneath his shirt, curious, wandering.

Harry didn't know how to handle any of this. He didn't. Nothing seemed real. Who would have thought, after all the things Harry had seen, this kiss with Draco Malfoy was the thing that stumped him the most?

Even this, touching Draco in this way, being this close...it all felt as if it belonged in a dream.

Harry realised that Draco was staring at him, and raised his head, meeting his gaze.