Title: Spring Dreams
Author name: earthquake
Author email: earthquake1906@yahoo.com
Category: Slash
Sub Category: Romance
Keywords: Harry Draco fluff Armchair challenge Spring seventh year
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None?

Summary: Spring. "It's just a dream...love."

DISCLAIMER: 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.

Author Notes: First attempt to write the guys at Hogwarts. (I always make them older.) And I've not yet finished reading all the other challenge ficlets to make sure I'm not copying them too closely. If I do end up having copied someone else's ideas, I hope s/he takes it as the tribute it truly is. *worships the Armchair mods and supporting mods and all the members and...*



Spring Dreams


Harry sprawled beneath the flowering apple tree, leaning against the tree's trunk, looking up through its branches. He could hear bees buzzing from blossom to blossom above his head, and feel the cool breeze that flowed out from under the trees of the Forbidden Forest, not far away. Dappled sunlight dazzled his eyes. He had come out here to study, but the peacefulness of the orchard had been so inviting...

My last spring at Hogwarts. I'm going to hate leaving this place.

Carefully Harry folded his glasses and put them on top of his rucksack. Then he rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out his legs, pillowing his head on his folded arms. The grass beneath his body felt...welcoming...as if it thrilled to yield to the weight of his body. He felt himself relaxing, breathing slowly and deeply.

If I held my breath long enough, maybe I could even sense the earth spinning on its axis. Or maybe there's a spell for that kind of vision.

But he was too relaxed to focus his thoughts for long. Instead he became fixated on the short blades of grass right in front of his face, the way their stems thrust out of the earth, the way their spines glowed translucent green in the shifting sunlight, the mingled smells of fresh hay and musky earth warmed by the sun...

Harry must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was dreaming.

In his dream he felt the welcoming earth beneath him, and sunlight moving on his closed eyelids, and...fingers, moving in his hair...and on the back of his neck...tracing down his spine to loosen the collar of his school robes. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and massaged them, pressing him down, draining all the tension out of his back...causing tension to build, a bit lower down.

In his sleep, Harry smiled. One of those dreams, then.

He began to revel in the feeling of the muscular hands kneading his back, his own body stiffening and shivering with delight as he sprawled in the spring grass.

But...there was something unusual about this dream. He heard bees, yes, but also...breathing. And the hands were at his collar again, and he felt breath rustling in his hair, and smelled a complicated scent he didn't recognize.

Harry's eyes fluttered open just as one of the hands pressed down on his head, and he heard a sharp whisper. "Don't move," the whisper said. "Just feel."

"But..." Harry protested, but the hands were like iron, keeping his head and shoulders in place. Something soft, on his neck. Lips...and a nose...someone was kissing Harry's neck, taking deep shuddering breaths and kissing him, passionately. And his body was responding, and he desperately wanted to turn over. He moved his legs and the lips immediately withdrew, although the hands still held him fast.

"I can't let you see my face." Now the whisper sounded sad. "If you try to look, I'll stop."

"Don't stop," Harry said. He laughed, nervously. "This is just a dream, anyway."

"Yes," murmured the whisper, as the hands stroked through Harry's hair. "A dream I've dreamed, so often..."

Suddenly Harry desperately wanted the "dream" to continue. Boldly he pulled his right arm out from under his head and reached for his wand, which lay ready to hand in an outside pocket of his rucksack. The hands withdrew abruptly, but Harry didn't turn to look. Instead he pointed his wand at himself and murmured, "Oculobscurus."

He heard a low chuckle of amusement.

Now temporarily blind, Harry put his wand carefully down next to his rucksack and scrambled to turn over and sit up, blessing the robes that hid the condition of his body. As he'd hoped it would, the movement brought him up against the knees of the mysterious other. His hands moved quickly upwards...the other was also wearing robes...over a strong flat chest.


Just to be sure, Harry moved his hand gently to the other's throat.

An Adam's apple in the column of the throat. Roughness on the chin, but not too much. Not a teacher, then, but a student, like me. A male student.

He felt hands on his shoulders, adjusting his robes, smoothing his hair. The lack of sight made his other senses more acute: the sound of the bees was hypnotic, the smell of the apple blossoms and new grass mingled with the scent of the other, so near now, and the touches that were so strong and yet unexpectedly gentle seemed to calm and inflame him at the same time.

"So that's why," Harry said. "Why you don't want me to see you."

"Not exactly." Another low laugh, choked off, and then the strong hands drew Harry's face forward for a kiss, and Harry lost himself in the other's lips and the delight of putting his own arms up, feeling himself held and caressed, feeling the other's sharp cheekbones and soft hair, long enough to brush the collar of his shirt...

For a long time there was nothing but the kiss and the ecstasy of exploring the other's mouth with his own tongue.

Finally the other pulled back and whispered softly, "I've seen you watching other men, this year."

Shaken by the kiss, Harry tried to gather his scattered thoughts. "Watching you?" He stroked the other's soft hair. "Seamus, is it you? Why didn't you just...?"

"Not Seamus," the other whispered fiercely. "You've never watched me. Although I wish you would, of course." Gentle hands pushed Harry down onto his back. "I've wanted you for so long." The hands were on his chest now, opening his robe. "It's just a dream...love..."

"My dream, too," Harry said softly. He felt the sun on his face, the earth at his back, the wind on his skin, and the other's exquisitely strong, exquisitely tender hands.

"Please, Harry," came the soft whisper. "Let me."

And Harry let him.

And then he let Harry.


Several hours passed, in which not only names but words were unnecessary. It was only later, as the two young men lay in each other's arms, that Harry turned stern, holding down the other's shoulders, and spoke once more.

"Your name," he said fiercely. "You've given me...everything else."

"Even if you guess, I won't give a single sign. I can't, not here."

Harry growled wordlessly.

"But after we both leave school, this summer, I'll come to you. Openly if I can. Secretly if I must."

Harry felt happiness well up inside himself.

The other sounded thoughtful. "Will you still want me then? The way you did today?"


"I wonder." The other's whisper sounded sad. Harry heard the rustling of robes as the other pulled himself together and got to his feet. "Thank you, Harry. I'll never forget this...dream...we've shared."

"Neither will I," said Harry, but there was no answer, and he suddenly knew he was once again alone. He patted the ground near his rucksack until he found his wand. Quickly he ended the spell of blindness, unfolded his glasses and put them back on, and looked around in amazement at the spring afternoon, which now seemed to him even more heartbreakingly beautiful.

Besides the fact that his body had experienced more bliss than he ever imagined it could feel, something else seemed different. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

I'll still be sad to leave this place, but I'm no longer dreading the future. Since it means a...reunion...with my lover. Whoever he is. It's frustrating that even if I guess, he won't reveal himself here. But I don't doubt that he meant it. Just from this afternoon, I can tell that he's strong, and annoyingly stubborn. Possibly even as stubborn as I am.

Harry sighed and turned to pick up his rucksack. And then he blinked in astonishment. Stuffed in the largest pocket, on top of his books, was a crumpled necktie in the unmistakable colors of Slytherin House.

armchair challenge
october 2002