DRARRY BITS

Dementor

Type: 3rd year, fluff.
Word count: 412

Blood was boiling within Harry's vains in fury, watching as Draco finally wrapped up his ridiculous dementor play, shooting his insufferable friends with a smile of pride that couldn't be erased. Their grating laughter rang through Harry's head to become the only voice he could hear.

"If you're that good of a dementor, why don't you kiss me then?" Harry found himself yelling, the burn in his chest taking a form in his voice. It was like his mind was absent, momentarily blocked to let his subconscious take control. The world around him froze like a picture in a frame, everyone looked too scared to utter a word. He was too focused on Draco to see his friends paling faces.

Taking the hood off his head, Draco made his way approaching the stock-still gryfinndor with slow yet confident steps, and a smirk engraved itself on his face, taking pleasure in the view of Harry, who was shrinking smaller with every step that drew Draco closer, wishing that he had been mute the moment he snapped.

With his thumb on Harry's chin, he tilted the boy's head up a bit, enough to meet his gaze, watching as he ached to catch a breath, his eyes glistening in anticipation. Draco captured Harry's lips in his, tracing the edges of the brunet's lips with the tip of his tongue before he crashed his lips upon his like eager ocean tides.

It took Harry a shy moment to process how the world was spinning around him before giving in, timid and slow at first as if scared, despite longing for this moment for months on end. He could feel Draco's hand pulling him closer by the waist and, even through his robes, the blonde's touch woke up a crowd of butterflies in him, fluttering their tiny wings wildly all around his stomach, begging to be set free.

Harry was thrown down from his cloud when Draco let go of his lips. The pale gray eyes scanning Harry's tinted face with his lips curved in a smirk of satisfaction before he licked them clean, relishing what Harry's lips left behind. It was either that Draco's lips were too soft, like light caressing his lips that he could hardly feel it, or it was all a dream, born from a long wished for fantasy.

It had to be a dream, and Harry expected to wake up in his bed in a moment or two, but he didn't.