>Okay... anyone who likes Harry Potter should read this! And if ya
don't like HP, read it anyway 'cause it's a) My first slashfic! b)
Freaky, and hey - only *short* :p

Spidey -x-

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Title: Delitescent

Disclaimer: I own bugger all. Except, like, a serious hangover from
last night. That's mine. Urgg. Work was fun this morning... Yuck.

Rating: R. It's sexual, but not overly detailed. It is consensual, but
not 'nice'. It's possibly squicky, possibly angsty, even possibly
funny, so I'm tol, lol.

Note: Essy's chose the title. Something to do with fuzzy, and fuzzy
vision or summat ;) Also, thanks to Ess for getting me to write this,
since I was in a weird mood and her Draco/Neville wasn't forthcoming
;) Wrote it dead quickly.

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"Hermione!" shouted Harry, distress in his tone, as he came down into
the Gryffindor common room that morning, his robes rather untidy, his
pitch black hair a worse state than ever - and that was something.

He looked a little disorientated, and Hermione could instantly tell
why, as she glanced up from her copy of the Daily Prophet, from the
plush fireside armchair.

"Somebody's stolen my glasses again." he wailed sadly, emphasising the
last word, and plonked himself down on one of the cusions, stumbling
over the edge of one of the chairs on the way, quite obviously having
a very hard time seeing much at all.

Hermione raised an eyebrow silently. Again? she mused worriedly. What
on earth could someone want with Harry's glasses? They'd gone missing
on several previous occasions, and had mysteriously reappeared soon
afterwards, apparently unharmed. Hermione had even checked them over
for countless types of hexes, but had found nothing.

"Bet it's Malfoy." growled Ron, sitting himself down opposite Harry,
running one hand through his firey hair with annoyance, angry at the
very thought of Draco Malfoy playing another of his stupid pranks on
Harry. "I just know, it has to be. He's always up to something..."


*      *      *


The Slytherin dorm was completely silent, except for the sudden
rustling sound of robes falling to the floor, and of someone being
thrown carelessly onto soft, emerald-green sheets, amongst heavy black
drapes, embroidered with a large silver serpent, visible in the dim
morning light.

"Ouch..." came a deep voice "Watch my elbow, I..."

"Shut up, Crabbe." growled a cold, well spoken and sharp voice, as he
pinned the other down onto the bed by his wrists, hitching his robes
up past his waist, and slipping a familiar pair of rounded glasses,
held together by selotape, onto Crabbe's face.

"Why do I always have to wear these?" he groaned, leaning back on the
bed and letting the other lift his legs up over his shoulders.

"I told you not to talk, you idiot." came the cold voice again, as he
leaned closer towards Crabbe "You'll do just what I want, like you
always do... Otherwise, you know how much trouble I can get you into
with my father, don't you?" he said nastily "Now open your legs
wider."

Crabbe nodded, tears burning his eyes at the pain he'd have to go
through again. Not physical pain, he loved every second of what the
other boy gave him, but the pain of knowing that he wasn't really
wanted, and that he had to play out this insane fantasy every time.

"I can't even see you through these." he sobbed, shamefully aroused,
as always, as the boy heartlessly slammed inside him.

"Good." he spat, and emphasised the word by slamming inside him again,
his cruel grip tightening on Crabbe's wrists "I don't want you to see
me. What you get out of this means nothing."

And so, the boy's silvery blond hair fell forwards over his face, as
he methodically, rhythmically ellicited groans from the boy beneath
him, his icy gray eyes misted over, deep in his own world, as he bit
his lower lip and moved faster.

Draco didn't see the tears that fell unchecked behind the stolen
glasses, as he worked his way blindly up to his release, Harry
Potter's name breathlessly escaping his lips...

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