Something Slightly Different
Okay! In response to a writing challenge from maggie_malfoy and lazy_daze, I present to you NC-17 Harry/Harry *cringes* Dedicated to imochan, for being such a gorgeous thing and reading it for me before I posted to check for coherancy :))



"Wow." Harry stared, and stared some more, and just when he thought he couldn't take in anymore, he did. He felt as though his heart was going to stop.

"You said you wanted to know."

The boy in front of Harry stared back, although his stare was far more comfortable, with a glint in the eyes that promised at least some sort of arousal. He was slightly broad, and not particularly tall, with a shock of black hair that was the most dramatic of his features, other than the bright green eyes in the centre of his face. The boy in front of Harry was Harry. He was him.

Harry stared at his own features, drinking in as much as he could at one time without finding it too much to take. "Wow," he whispered again, taking a single step closer as though the very slight change in proximity would make the boy look somehow different. There surely had to be an inaccuracy somewhere. Harry had never seen anything like it. Well, that was not true - he had of course seen the same form in mirrors, because the boy standing in front of him was a direct and perfect image of Harry Potter.

The boy gave a bit of a smile, and Harry shuddered slightly to see just how much- to see himself smile. He had never seen his whole body smile in that way, he had never thought to look so closely as he was now, and he moved closer still.

"You said you wanted to know." The boy's voice was, once again, exactly the same. Every syllable that slipped from his tongue was elicited in identical undertones, each word was perfectly indistinguishable.

Harry swallowed. "I..." He had lost his voice again, and for a moment he was afraid that two of the same person couldn't exist at the same time. Perhaps he was losing himself to the boy opposite, perhaps- something could have gone wrong. "Do you think this is...?"

His own voice was a whisper, and the reply came slightly louder, "Well, how should I know? We're the same."

Harry made a bit of a face at this, as though he had known the boy would say something like that, and he mumbled, "What if it goes wrong?"

"Like I said, how should I know?" the boy mumbled in a way that Harry was sure was more of a mimic than a general coincidence. He had the slightest of headaches, and his breathing was uneven underneath his bare chest. Suddenly he had a desire for at least one layer of clothing on his top half, that he wasn't simply wearing a pair of old and worn jeans. Something else would be very, very welcome.

The boy was smiling. "Shall we?"

Harry swallowed again, more thickly this time, and his voice was shaky with anticipation, "I... I don't know." He wasn't given the chance to respond, as his mirror image tugged him into a hard kiss, and before Harry knew it his tongue was working against - his tongue, and it was amazing.

They did not separate for some time, their lips meeting and parting in favour of deepening the kisses, in favour of pushing more tongue into the other's mouth. Harry wasn't really sure if it was the utter fascination of kissing somebody else - himself - or if he was just reveling in the fact that he… he was a really amazing kisser. He tasted different than he had imagined, probably because he had only given it half a second's thought before the boy had pressed their mouths together.

Finally, Harry pulled away and, for the third time that evening, whispered, "Wow." He did not particularly need to pull back as far as he did, but he needed to look again. Harry felt slightly calmer, although not in the strictest sense of the word - he was breathing so hard he thought his mind, and his lungs, would burst.

Staring again, and fully conscious of it, Harry slowly pressed one finger down over the boy's jaw - his own jaw, he kept forgetting. He could almost lose himself in fascination, he could do this for hours - just stare and stare and take it all in. It was incredible, and horrifying, and utterly arousing in a way he had not expected. Harry could hardly say he was confident with his appearance, or even that he thought himself particularly attractive at all, but seeing himself standing directly opposite, he could not help but look.

"Take off your top," he whispered, before frowning in slight confusion. "My top? Your- your top," he decided finally, returning the boy's twitch of a smirk with an identical one of his own. The boy eventually pulled his jumper off - it was simple and black and slightly too large - and it fell to the floor with a very soft sound of air moving.

Harry's eyes shifted over his own chest, and he could locate all the tiny scars from a completely different perspective this time - scars acquired from scraps with Dudley, or goodness knows how many life threatening occasions. He felt his head pound once again, along with his cock hardening a little under his own jeans. They were feeling uncomfortably tight.

He let his fingers slip down over the boy's collarbone, down to pinch one nipple. The reaction was uncanny - Harry felt as though it had been his own body taking in a breath, and while it confused him, his cock twitched again. He rolled the nipple under his thumb slowly, and he felt hands start to unbuckle his belt. Harry glanced down to see His hands, which was not quite such a strange thing to see, but it looked completely unusual for them to be reaching toward him from such an angle.

"No," he whispered after a beat, quietly but firmly. "I don't want you to touch me yet." The hands slipped away, and Harry smiled a little. His mirror image raised an eyebrow, and Harry's smile broadened as he mumbled, "I need to concentrate."

The boy looked almost disappointed, and it was more dramatic than Harry ever imagined he would be. A small laugh escaped him, purely from the absurdity of the situation. "After." No reply, just another frustrated frown. "I promise."

Indeed, his face was slightly screwed up in thought, as two fingers traced over the lines of the boy's stomach, and after a moment he dropped to his knees, needing a better view - needing something slightly more. Harry unbuttoned the top of the jeans he was wearing, pushing at the sides of them to give his cock some very necessary breathing room. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

He dipped his mouth to trace over the boy's skin then, and Harry could almost imagine it wasn't himself, until he looked up and saw his own eyes burning into him, his own lips parted and his own breath falling heavily into the quiet classroom. Harry glanced toward the locked door, hoping the concealment charm would last as long.

Judging from his own erection, and the crease in the trousers in front of him, it would last plenty long enough.

Harry returned his attentions back to pulling away the boy's jeans, tugging his boxers away with him. He couldn't help but intake such a sharp breath that he felt the need to cough, but he was more distracted by the cock that now lay only a breath away from his lips.

Of course, he had seen it before; it was his own. It was just... He had never seen himself this way, from this angle. Harry felt thoroughly taken aback, but still, he wanted more. He wanted as much as he could take. His eyes shifted upwards again, to try and meet the boy's, but they were closed.

"I've never... this must be what it's..." he managed, his hand tracing over soft skin on the inside of the boy's - his - thigh. A shudder ran through him again, as though he were really touching himself. Harry was sure he wouldn't even have to do that to come quickly.

He touched his lips to the head of the by now hard cock in front of him, and a little noise filled the room that distracted Harry. He wasn't sure who it had come from. His hand gripped the thigh a little more to steady the boy, who was leant heavily against a desk by this point; he had been for some time.

Harry let his tongue scrape over the underside of the boy's erection, savouring the taste far more than he had thought he would. It felt rough, but not as rough as he imagined, and it was slightly sweet. He could get used to this.

The boy pushed toward him urgently, and Harry could hear his own voice, thick in another throat, whispering, "Fuck- don't stop." Harry had absolutely no intention of stopping, and he let his tongue explore every inch of the erection that was pushing further back into his mouth with every thrust of the boy's hips. He tried to remember what he liked, tried to contemplate if it would be the same anyway, and tried not to burst, all at the same time.

As he sucked down, slightly harder than he needed to but knowing that if he were in that position - he was he was he was - it would elicit a reaction, and it did. A low series of moans echoed above him, and Harry felt short, uneven nails dig into his neck just above the collar of his t-shirt. Long fingers were in his hair, and he could feel rough ends of fingers pushing at his head. It was... Harry didn't know quite what it was. He didn't think there was a word in the English language for what it was.

His own free hand pushed inside his trousers, past the waistband of his boxers, so that it could wrap around his cock while his mouth worked over and under and consumed an identical erection. They were both as hard as the other, although Harry's own was only wet with pre-come, not mingled with saliva.

Harry's knees were shaking against the hard ground, his whole body almost as unsteady as that leaning heavily toward him. He gave a moan - that was lost with another identical one from the other boy - when his mouthed filled with hot release, and his own cock was pushed to the back of his throat. This was all it took, and while two hands released their grip in his hair, and his skin, another identical one pulled harder and harder until he felt thick liquid release onto it and over the inside of his boxers.

More than that, though - he could taste himself, and Harry's head was spinning. He murmured, "Damn," at the exact same time as the boy pressed against him, and a smile came over his lips.

"Well?" the boy asked, after a moment. "What do you think?"

* * * *

24 Hours Earlier

"Well? What do you think?"

"I think it's a really bad idea."

"Hmmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. Buuut..." A smile.

"But what?"

"You said you wanted to know." Draco smiled again, quirking an eyebrow in a way that made Harry smile slightly back. "Come on, Potter. Where's your imagination?" He twirled a small glass bottle on the desk in front of them before pushing it toward Harry, who shrugged and pushed it back.

"I've played with this stuff before," he pointed out, no tone of anger in his voice so much as amusement. He imagined that it wouldn't be quite satisfactory for Draco, who would demand at least some interest. "It was just a passing comment anyway."

"You said you wanted to know what you taste like," Draco pressed, and he nudged the bottle forward again. "Hence, all the trouble I went to-"

Harry paused, uncertain. "Polyjuice, though?"

Draco gave the other boy a winning smile. "Polyjuice."