Title: Of Spilled Ink and Crumpled Parchment

Author: MercuryGoddess

Category: Romance, Humor

Pairings: Draco/Harry, some Draco/Blaise moments, Hermione/Pansy & Blaise/Ron.

Rating: R/M - language and sexual content

Summary: With Voldemort defeated just the previous year, Harry Potter has the chance to focus on his true passion - writing novels. The content is, of course, for mature audiences only, but what does that have to do with Draco Malfoy? Slash of the HPDM variety!

Disclaimer/Warning: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is slash - male x male relationships. It also contains femmeslash - female x female relationships. If this offends you or doesn't suit your fancy in any way, then do not read below this warning and the future chapters. The concept is quite simple, and a bad review on this particular topic will only make you look like an ass. Thanks!

Author's Note: I got the idea from one of my Kingdom Hearts stories, Self Control. Enjoy!

Chapter One - The Secular Ramblings of a Lustful Gryffindor

---thrust deep inside of him again and again and it was wonderful; such a moment of completion couldn't be wrong, no matter what his so called family said, no matter what society said.

Nothing this beautiful could be wrong.

Tears - more so from joy than pain - trickled down from Heath's tanned cheeks, and as David slid from inside of him, he wrapped his arms around the slightly bigger man and sealed their lips with a passionate kiss.

The End

Harry smiled brightly, setting down his quill and screwing the cap on his inkpot. With a yelp of victory, he leaped from his seat to do his patented 'happy dance;' a quick gyrate of slender hips and a seductive shake of lean, but muscled shoulders. However, it was cut short by Seamus and Dean shifting in their beds to get more comfortable. He guessed it to be around 2:30 a.m., but from his recent accomplishment, he wasn't in the slightest tired. One could almost call him hyper - his emerald eyes shined brightly in the darkness, his body swayed in constant movement from the excess energy...

But he wasn't hyper. Ecstatic would be a word more fit to describe him.

Sweet, Surrendering Seduction had been the first novel he attempted to write after the defeat of Voldemort in the middle of sixth year. It was his best-kept secret; not even Ron or Hermione had a clue about his obsession with writing until this year.

Of course, the fact that they were adult books wasn't the only reason why he avoided telling them of the hobby.

Anyways, sixth year was grueling in its work, and overall stressful in its events. Turned out that Lucius Malfoy was a traitor and sentenced to death by his fellow Death Eaters, the entire Zabini family spied for the Order, and Voldemort planned to kill him Christmas Day. It was too much for him; he needed a pain free, harmless stress-reliever to quell his dark thoughts and to just be Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Friggin'-Tool.

At first, it was a journal - diary - to write down visions, dreams, events, and things of that sort. But after a while he had grown to hate it. What was the point if you didn't show anyone? You know what happened so why write it down to remind you? Journals were the stupidest things Muggles created.

Then it became short stories; stories of a fantasy world (more so than the wizarding world) where he'd be happy to live. Fantasy lead to action/adventure, which lead to romance...

Which lead to...gay erotica.

He'd been writing his novel ever since.

And now, just shy from a full year, he had finished the 870-page book. He had poured blood, sweat, tears, and semen into that book, and it was finally done! He had finished his first full-length novel; he couldn't have asked for a better Beginning-Seventh-Year-And-The-Rest-Of-Life present.

Packing up his stuff to place it in what he deemed his 'Writing Trunk,' Harry briefly eyed the other strewn pieces of parchment and quills with amusement. They were most likely his old stories, and short, choppy notes from when he got a stroke of genius. He also deducted them being from sixth year.

A particular piece of parchment caught his eyes after his scan of the trunk. It was the only piece crumpled and half buried beneath the rest - something suspicious in itself - with deep green ink shimmering in the moonlight pouring from the nearby window. With a sense of foreboding and against better judgment, he picked the wad of parchment up, his happy mood sobering. He opened it.

Late Night Stroll

There was stillness in the air.

Not of the ominous sort, no...but the atmosphere resembled that of the infirmary waiting room. Some news was going to be told about the person laying in the hospital bed, but one didn't know - was it good news? Was it bad news? Was the person waiting going to be told that their friend/family/lover was so bad that magic couldn't even save them?

That was the kind of waiting presence lingering in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at midnight. For what exactly, he was not sure, and since the gruesome battle with Voldemort just weeks before, he had been able to detect when something life changing would come and disrupt his life routine.

And as he, Harry Potter, glided soundlessly down the ancient hallways - without his invisibility cloak, mind you - he felt it wash over his senses once more.

The presence of another.

He withdrew his wand surreptitiously as well as scanning over the area in front of him. He was only a staircase away from the Gryffindor Tower. The person waiting in the shadows just shy of his left side must be persistent. Testing them, he took another few steps forward, only to feel the shadow mimic his move. "Come out," he hissed at the still form beside him. Emerald eyes flashed with annoyance, not hidden behind rounded spectacles. "Stop creeping along in the ruddy shadows!"

There was no hesitation in the graceful movement of the shadowed form in front of him. With a whispered "Lumos," the figure was washed a glow from the spark ignited at the end of his wand, illuminating lust-filled silver eyes and immaculate ear-length blonde hair. Harry stumbled backwards from the sheer power of the spell, light circles dancing in front of his eyes, before his vision cleared and the identity of his follower revealed.

"B-Bloody hell!"

The stumble transformed in to a flat-out fall, and he hit the cold stone floor hard. A warm, delicious weight settled on his prone form almost immediately, and the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy raked over his body like a predator sizing up his prey. "Potter."

The name was breath out like a cry from an impending orgasm; Harry shivered from it. "M-Malfoy?"

"Mm." Lips captured his then, rough, bruising...a sign of ownership and possession. The force made him start violently - but not in disgust. Oh no, the feeling was the very antithesis.

There was no fight for dominance - Draco's tongue thrust into his mouth without so much a thought that the other boy wouldn't like it, and his body pressed fully against the submissive Harry. Running his hand through Draco's silky strands, Harry wrapped a leg around the other's waist, bringing him closer and causing the kiss to deepen. He responded with an equal, if not more, fervor than the other. He had wanted this for some time, always within reach of the sexy Slytherin but never being able to touch/caress/stroke/fondle the boy. He lust for this boy...this ethereal being of taut muscles and angular features...this boy who exuded the power and confidence of a god.

Draco broke the kiss harshly, making Harry whimper at the loss of contact, and ground down harshly against him. Harry's eyes flew open - seeing as though they closed when he was kissing Draco. "Oh..."

The boy above him scoffed with a raised eyebrow. "Just 'oh,' Potter?"

He ground down again, twice as hard and half as fast as the first. Harry arched off the floor; his eyes squeezed tightly as he felt himself respond in a very positive way. "Fuck, D-Draco..."

Grey eyes glittered in amusement and lust. "That's better," he purred while leaning his head on Harry's neck. He nipped at the exposed flesh. "Segmentum Amboe!"

An abrupt wind swept over their entwined bodies, shredding the clothes off their frames, before vanishing as soon as it had come. Without another word, Draco attacked his right nipple and began to suck, bite, and lick it hungrily, all the while rocking against Harry slowly. Hands flew over tanned skin, nails scratching, fingertips skimming over sensitized flesh...it was almost too much. He was on the brink of euphoria - and coming hard - and Draco hadn't even touched him where it showed just how much he was aroused.

Holy Merlin, this boy was heaven!

A vicious nip around his navel brought the boy from his lust-induced thoughts, and with a shudder from the draftiness of the castle, he realized: he didn't want to have sex on a cold stone floor! "D-Draco?"

A growl and a painful nip at his abs was the response.

"Draco...stop..."

"Shut the fuck up, Potter." The command seemed to echo throughout the entire space. "I don't want to talk and neither do you."

With a devil incarnate smile, Draco licked the trail of hair leading down to his private areas like a big lollipop, chuckling at the sharp intake of breath and squirming body beneath him. "I'll make sure of that."

Taking his time, Draco lowered his head and to--

Harry stopped reading. He couldn't believe that he had written this. Judging from what was said in the - story? - he had written this sixth year. Turning over the piece of parchment, he found out that himself in sixth year couldn't make his fantasy Draco finish what he started either.

Disturbed, for lack of a better word, Harry slumped to the floor in front of the trunk and stared at the forbidden - sacred - piece of parchment. It was so realistic, so erotic and Malfoyishly seductive that it made him painfully hard just dwelling on it. He was tempted to finish writing; it would be better than any wank, that's for sure.

But that was the big step, forcing him to acknowledge that he didn't want to only hold his hand and kiss him with chocolates melting on his tongue...

Oh no! Making the Fantasy Draco do that was almost as bad as stating - out loud, mind you - that he was in lust with Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin hottie out to make his school career, and possibly out of school, a living, breathing hell. It was unthinkable. So unthinkable that he had buried away this wretched piece of erotica.

But was it? Plenty of girls, and plenty of guys, had the hots for the sexiest, richest bloke in the entire wizarding world. Would it be that different from the rest of them?

Of-bloody-course it would, you naive little wanker! You're Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, Defeater of Voldemort, the single most wanted STRAIGHT BACHELOR on the market!

That was another best-kept secret.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent a headache from coming. He had a conversation with himself about this before. Harry plus Malfoy equals tons and tons of twouble. It was just that simple.

Just grab a bit of his ass and you'll be able to die a happy, slightly sane man.

"Oh, shut up!"

You know you want to...just reach out, grasp a firm chunk of that succulent meat and--

"We're not discussing this!"

Realizing 2:30 a.m. turned to 8:30 a.m., Harry dragged himself up off the floor to meet the curious and highly amused blue eyes of one Ron Weasley.

"Talking to yourself, mate?"

Furtively throwing the piece of parchment back into the trunk, Harry watched Ron leap off his bed and face his friend. "I knew you were stark-raving mad at times, but I didn't know it got worse."

"Shut up, Ron," Harry groaned as he shuffled to his bed and buried his face deep into his pillows. "You don't have to remind me of how bad it's gotten."

With a short chuckle, Ron watched as his friend tried in vain to suffocate himself. He kept caving into the urge to breath. "Alright, Harry?"

Harry threw Ron a 'like-hell-I-am' look (the opposite of the look he had when he finished his novel just hours before), but replied nevertheless with a muttered 'fine.' Ron bounced onto his bed. "Let's go, you lazy sod. You've been up here since dinner started yesterday!"

"Wasn't hungry." Since Malfoy stole my appetite with that fitted silver turtleneck and tight black leather pants that molded to that delectable little as--

"Please just kill me now, Ron. Strangulation will do fine." He leaned forward and upwards, exposing his neck. "If you wrap them here, I will die faster."

Ron headed towards the door, a lopsided grin adorning his features. "You just need to get shagged, mate."

He ducked at the first curse thrown.

---

To Be Continued…

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-MercuryGoddess-