Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only. I am
making no money from this.
Notes: Draco has a strange dream and awakens. He looks back on a number of disturbing memories and emotions that leave
him wondering if perhaps there’s something wrong with him.
Hands . . . hands were everywhere, touching, squeezing, feeling. Draco writhed and moaned as they touched and caressed
him in the most intimate and tantalizing of ways. He had never thought that anything could feel so good. And yet . . . it wasn’t
quite enough. He needed something more than this. Then something caressed his backside and he gasped. That was it . . . he
wanted to be filled. He NEEDED to be filled. He needed it more than he needed air to breathe.
“Please . . . please . . .” He whispered breathlessly, his head tossing back and forth as fingers slipped to massage his entrance.
He arched his back and prepared for the sweet invasion. A single digit started to enter him.
Draco bolted upright into a sitting position. He was panting and shaking as the dream hands slowly withdrew from his body,
their touches fading with each passing moment. He blinked, trying to control his breathing as the sensations ebbed away. He'd
had erotic dreams before, but this . . . had been intense. He shivered and raised his hand, wiping his hand across his sweaty
forehead and brushing his dampened hair back.
Looking down at himself, Draco saw the undeniable evidence that his body had reacted to the dream he had just awakened
from. A distinct dampness stained the bed sheets covering him. He sighed, tossing the blanket away from his body, grumbling
as he rose from bed. He wasn’t worried about being embarrassed. In a school where about half of the population were
pubescent boys, it was probably common for such incidents to happen. The House Elves that cleaned the rooms probably
came across similar stains often.
Grabbing a dressing gown, Draco shuffled to the nearest bathroom. As he made his way there, and back to his dorm room
after he had finished his business, he thought over the events of the past few days. He had been feeling strange for days now.
Perhaps it was just the excitement of being back in school once again, but Draco doubted it. He had never had a similar
experience in any of his previous years. If this were his last year, then he might consider it as an option, but it was only his
He stripped off the dressing gown, climbing back into bed. It had been cleaned in the few moments that he had been gone . . .
the House Elves did their jobs well. Still, as he settled himself in bed, his mind went over and over the strange feelings that he
couldn’t seem to rid himself of.
His skin tingled whenever around his fellow male students, his body growing warm and his breathing hitching. He wanted
something, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. Draco knew that it wasn’t the same as finding another student attractive and
wanting to have sex with him or her . . . it was distinct, a strange appeal that left Draco seeking out almost literally every male
in this school with the exception of Dumbledore, Flitwick and other men that were well past their prime. He shivered,
remembering the day he had caught himself staring at Professor Snape’s crotch all through class a few days ago. He did not
want to get involved with a teacher . . . another student perhaps, but not a teacher.
Draco didn’t understand this. Even the people that he hated, or found unattractive, he couldn’t help but stare at. That Neville
Longbottom for example. He had never held even the slightest attraction to the clumsy oaf before a few days ago . . . and now
that he wasn’t within eyeshot of him, he still didn’t like him in the least. It was just when he was around other males that he
seemed to lose control over his hormones.
Was there something wrong with him? Perhaps he was ill. Draco frowned. He didn’t feel ill, not in the slightest. Maybe
someone had put a curse on him. Draco shook his head. He just did not know what was wrong with him.
It left Draco nervous as he considered this. How far would this progress? How long would it go on? He didn’t want to be
stuck with this . . . illness for too long. However, he also had no idea of how to put a stop to it. There was no way that he
would go to a teacher and tell him or her what was happening to him. That would be a laugh, going up to Professor Snape one
fine morning and saying what . . . that he wanted to shag every man he saw?
He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t be telling his teachers. If he did, then he would have to admit to finding Professor Snape
attractive as well, at least in the time that he was within eyesight of the man. And Potter . . . he groaned, hating the way that
he had been fantasizing over perfect Potter during dinner last night. He had nearly puked when he was back in the dorm. He
couldn’t believe that he had been drooling over Potter . . . and Weasley . . . he shuddered. What next . . . would he think
Crabbe and Goyle were attractive.
Although, now that he thought of it . . . Crabbe and Goyle were pretty strong. Draco wondered what it would be like to be
sandwiched between the two of them, feeling as they touched and caressed him. His skin started to tingle again, a familiar
coiling spreading through his stomach and groin.
Hm, the two of them, Draco smirked, thinking that he would like to see Crabbe on his knees, sucking at him. To feel Goyle
behind him, touching him, spreading him . . . Draco’s eyes widened, a gasp leaving his mouth. Good Merlin, what the hell was
the thinking?! Crabbe and Goyle? He shuddered, finding this new attraction most disturbing.
Obviously, it was because the two of them were here in the same dorm as him, snoring away in their beds while Draco
remained awake. This was most puzzling and frightening. He was fantasizing about Crabbe and Goyle, the very thought left
him wincing in disgust. The two of them were ignorant, hulking morons . . . he was no more attracted to them than he was to
Hermione Granger. He did not like this one little bit, and hoped that this would not last for too much longer.
And then there were the looks that he had started to receive from others . . . more specifically from the young men around
him. They looked at Draco with hunger in their eyes whenever he passed them by. They watched every move that he made
with lustful stares. It was enough to make Draco body shy enough to take showers before dawn, before anyone else
awakened. Still, these looks might very well be figments of his own imagination. Maybe this illness, whatever it was, had
affected his perception of things.
He sighed, pulling the blankets up over his head. With his worries over his own sanity swirling through his mind, Draco fell
into an unpeaceful slumber. He tossed and turned the night through, plagued with nightmares of the males of the school
ravaging him viciously.
To Be Continued . . .