The boggart swirls, then takes a form. No – two forms, so tightly entwined that they might as well be one. With an unpleasant shock, Albus recognizes Harry – not Harry as Albus just saw him an hour ago, tiny and scruffy and agog at this new world that has suddenly opened to him, but nearly grown. The other… well, Albus paid attention to very little but Harry at the sorting feast, but that hair would be enough to mark Lucius Malfoy's son anywhere. Draco, who will grow in his father's shadow like some sort of pale, poisonous, night-blooming flower, who had barely come within range of the Sorting Hat before it had placed him in the House of the Serpent. Draco, whose hands in this vision are familiar and possessive on Harry's body.
The two of them are beautiful, all soft mouths and sliding, clinging arms, Harry's glasses dangling from his fingertips and then carelessly dropped, moving with each other as though to some music that Albus cannot hear. Fingers tugging at each others' hair, quick flashes of tongue between their lips; Draco's shirt is hanging half off his shoulders and Harry's bids fair to follow, open to the press of Draco's skin against his.
They separate, briefly, nuzzling open-mouthed at each other, and Albus catches his breath at the lovedesirehappiness shining in Harry's eyes. It would be beautiful if it were anyone but Harry, anyone but Draco.
It might be beautiful anyway if Draco weren't sliding Harry's sleeve down, turning his left arm inward, leaving hungry kisses and delicate swipes of his tongue over the skull and snake branded into Harry's skin. Harry's head tilts back, baring the clean line of his throat, brilliant green dimmed as his eyes slide closed and his whole body moves toward something - Draco, completion, ecstasy, darkness.
Albus manages to banish the boggart. Afterward, he's not sure how. In the dimness of his office, he turns his thoughts ahead to the House Cup, and plans. He saw the way they looked at each other at the Sorting, and knows that there is still time.
Fawkes mourns quietly on his perch. Lost in thought, Albus doesn't hear him.
