"Broken Plans" (Draco/Harry, Rated NC-17)
May. 25th, 2004 12:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skellywagTitle: "Broken Plans"
Author: Teh![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skellywag
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Light bondage, food!sex, uber-saccharine fluff, and logical!Ron
Disclaimer: Not mine...yada yada yada
A/N: Written as a gift foractress_krissie for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hpvalensmut
“I can’t tonight,” Draco muttered, biting his lip nervously. He averted his eyes, glancing down the nearly abandoned Charms corridor.
Harry narrowed his eyes critically and followed his lover’s gaze to the only other people in the hall, a pair of Ravenclaws. “Why not?” he asked, rather too sharply, causing the Ravenclaws to look their way. He took Draco by the arm and pulled him further down the corridor, now speaking in a hushed, but no less irritated, voice. “You couldn’t yesterday or Sunday either. As a matter of fact, this past month I’ve been seeing less and less of you.”
Draco lowered his eyes guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve been pretty busy…” he trailed off.
Harry sighed, brushing a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine,” he relented. “However, you’d best make sure you don’t make any plans for Valentine’s Day. You haven’t forgotten that we’ve got plans to skip class and stay in your room all day, right?” he nearly accused.
The blonde averted his eyes and shook his head quickly. “My Friday’s wide open.” With a glance to the pair of Ravenclaws, he tugged Harry around the corner and out of their line of vision before crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss, slender fingers tangling in jet-black hair.
They broke apart, sooner than Harry would have liked, and Draco licked his lips, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got to go now,” he muttered, trying to fix his mussed-up hair. “See you later, luv.” Then he turned and left, reentering the Charms corridor.
Harry took a little longer to compose himself, still rather upset about the whole situation. When he finally reentered the Charms corridor himself, neither Draco nor anyone else was anywhere to be seen.
~~~***~~~
The next morning, a Wednesday, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, morosely playing with his scrambled eggs, but too upset to actually eat anything. His eyes continuously darted to the Slytherin table, but Draco hadn’t shown up yet.
“You gonna eat those, mate?” asked Ron from his left.
Harry made a face and pushed over his plate. “Have at it,” he muttered.
Ron looked up quickly at the tone of his friend’s voice. “Something wrong?”
“No,” Harry answered quickly.
Too quickly. Ron knew immediately what, or rather who, his friend was upset about. However, when Harry had first told him and Hermione about his relationship with Draco, they had come to the agreement that they would avoid the topic, if at all possible. However, one look at the hurt expression on Harry’s face made Ron pause and rethink his decision. “Harry, if you want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen and offer any advice I can,” he said haltingly.
Harry bit his lip hesitantly. “It’s just…I think there’s something wrong. It seems like Draco has been avoiding me; making excuses not to see me.” He didn’t dare utter his real worry: that Draco was seeing someone else.
However, Ron seemed to realize Harry’s real concern as though he’d voiced it out loud. “Are you sure?” he asked, struggling to keep all of his derogatory anti-Malfoy comments locked behind his lips.
Harry sighed. “Well, it’s not like I have any evidence; he hasn’t come out and said anything. But when I talk to him, he gets this antsy look on his face liked he’s got somewhere else to be; like he’d rather be anywhere else.”
Ron frowned, his expression uncertain. “Well, you know how I feel about the git, but I guess you should give him a chance. Watch his behaviour. Maybe even spy on him.”
To say that Harry was surprised by Ron’s relatively mild and wholly rational advice would be an understatement. “I really appreciate that,” he replied sincerely, offering a wavering smile. He turned quickly in his seat, hearing the doors of the Great Hall swing open.
Draco entered the room slowly, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His chin-length blonde hair was only semi-slicked back, the ends curling up at the base of his neck and sticking up around his ears. His robes were hanging open to reveal the fact that his shirt was untucked, half his buttons weren’t fastened correctly, and his tie hung limply around his neck. Draco didn’t even glance in Harry's direction, instead heading straight to the Slytherin table and ignoring questions from his housemates as he loaded a plate with French toast.
Harry got to his feet, his posture sagging. “I’ll see you in class,” he muttered to Ron, his eyes locked across the room on a boy who wouldn’t look back. Then he turned and left the room, not noticing that Draco’s eyes had finally lifted to watch him, expression full of merriment.
~~~***~~~
Harry brushed sweat-soaked hair out of his face with frustration. He’d been pacing the dungeon for hours under his invisibility cloak. He’d been cold at first, but that obviously was not the case now. Silently he cursed his insecurity, which had urged him to follow Ron’s advice to spy on Draco. Right after dinner, he’d gone up to his dorm to retrieve the cloak and had immediately gone down to stake out the entrance to the Slytherin common room, waiting for Draco to emerge.
It occurred to Harry that the blonde could indeed be seeing a member of his own house, but he couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of that idea. Draco had made it abundantly clear that none of his house appealed to him in the slightest, a point that relieved Harry greatly.
It was getting late, and Harry was beginning to think he might have been wrong and perhaps Draco had just needed to study, when the trapdoor slid open, and none other than the blonde Slytherin appeared, looking remarkably more put-together than he had that morning. In fact, though it may have been Harry’s jealousy working overtime, Draco looked better than he did when he was meeting Harry. He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from confronting his lover; he knew he’d never get any answers that way. Instead, he remained silent, pressing his back to the stone wall behind him as Draco passed by, moving up and out of the dungeons.
Harry could scarcely breathe as he trailed the Slytherin, trying not to follow too closely, but drawn like a magnet to its opposite pole, or perhaps a moth to flame. More than once, he’d nearly stepped on Draco’s heels, or the blonde had stopped abruptly after feeling Harry’s breath on his neck, and the green-eyed boy was forced to retreat, trying to clear his mind and stay focused on his objective.
Harry’s confusion was clear on his face (not that anyone could see it) when Draco paused halfway down the fourth floor corridor and rapped his knuckles against the forehead of a bust of Morgan le Fay. Out of instinct and not any sort of logic, Harry took a few steps backward, pressing into the shadows even further. He watched as the bust and its pedestal slid to the same side and the wall behind it sank into the floor, revealing the same pair of Ravenclaws he’d seen the day before.
He could barely contain the flash of jealousy that permeated his body. Upon better inspection, he realized he recognized the two girls as Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal. They were both very pretty, and he couldn’t help but stiffen as Draco stood between them, wrapping an arm around each of their waists.
Draco flashed each girl a playboy smile. “So are we going to do this here and give your housemates a show, or shall we find someplace a bit more private?” he asked chuckling.
Mandy did her best to look abashed, but she quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles, as did Morag on Draco’s other side. “We can go to our dormitory. I’m sure we won’t be disturbed there.”
Draco’s carefree laughter echoed through the corridor as the wall and the bust of Morgan le Fay slid back into place, the sound buffeting Harry’s brain painfully. He was seething with furious jealousy, and yet there were angry tears stinging his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.
Harry had no concept of time as he sat in the corridor, shrouded in invisibility, but when Draco finally emerged, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first three buttons of his shirt unfastened, the green-eyed boy had a sneaking suspicion that it was well after midnight. He let Draco get a ways down the hall before stumbling to his feet and stalking after him.
Suddenly, all the pain Harry had felt, seeing Draco touching those girls so casually, his demeanor quite obviously flirtatious, came rushing back to him in a tidal wave of fury, and his pace quickened. With an almost feral snarl, he seized the blonde by the back of his shirt and practically threw him into the wall. He quickly followed, pinning Draco to the stone with his invisible body and placing one arm quite deliberately over the boy’s throat to keep him from uttering more than a whisper. He watched as Draco’s expression morphed from one of surprise to one of dawning realization and barely disguised fear. “Harry?” he hissed, his tone clearly terrified. “Is that you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Harry responded viciously. “How could you do this to me?” he asked, voice cracking from the pain that even having to ask that question caused.
“Do what?” Draco cried out hoarsely, grasping desperately at Harry’s arm, but obviously caught at a disadvantage. “I swear I didn’t do anything. What’s going on?”
Harry sighed and released Draco, taking several steps backward and pulling the invisibility cloak from his face. His green eyes were cold as he stared down at Draco as the blond sank to the floor rubbing his throat and breathing heavily. Harry felt slightly gratified by the red bruise beginning to bloom on the pale boy’s neck. “Stay away from me,” he snarled threateningly. “You’ve betrayed me, and I want nothing more to do with you, Malfoy.” He spat the blonde’s surname as though someone had force-fed him poison.
Draco’s silver eyes were wounded as he raised them to the Gryffindor. “I don’t understand,” he murmured painfully, however Harry had already stalked halfway down the corridor and either hadn’t heard or hadn’t wanted to, because he didn’t turn.
Draco slumped against the wall, face in his hands, until he realized what must have happened and mentally kicked himself. “Discretion, Malfoy,” he muttered to himself darkly. As he stood and headed silently back to his common room, he vowed to get Harry back.
~~~***~~~
Draco had been up most of the night making plans, throwing them out, and making new ones, and so slept through breakfast as well as his first two classes. He knew he’d be able to smooth things over with Professors Snape and Vector easily enough, and furthermore, his absence from those classes would help him with the first stage of his plan.
He ate lunch within ten minutes, and, after ignoring the questions from his housemates regarding his skivving off two classes (Honestly, didn’t they have lives of their own to concern themselves with?), he got up and crossed the Great Hall, heading for the Gryffindor table.
“Granger, I was wondering if you might be able to explain today’s Arithmancy lesson,” he murmured to Hermione casually, trying to ignore Ron’s glare and Harry’s pointed refusal to even glance in his direction. He shifted uneasily. Maybe this was going to be even more difficult than he’d expected.
Hermione narrowed her eyes critically at the blonde. Able, that was one thing, but willing quite another. “Fine, Malfoy,” she sniffed, looking rather angry herself. Harry hadn’t told her why he was so upset when he’d returned to the common room last night, but instinctively she’d known it had something to do with the Slytherin. The main reason she was even agreeing to this was to find out the truth, though they’d actually begun studying together a while ago, and it wasn’t all that strange an occurrence. In fact, it was through studying together that they’d reconciled after Harry and Draco had begun seeing one another secretly. “Meet me in the library in ten minutes; I need to finish eating,” she muttered, her tone thoroughly disgusted, as though she’d just agreed to make a deal with the devil.
Draco nodded and headed to the library, instantly searching for the most secluded table. He didn’t care that there were only four other people there; he didn’t want to take any chances that they be overheard.
Hermione looked extremely harried when she finally found him, in the back of the dust-encrusted History of Magic section. “What did you do to Harry?” she hissed the instant she laid eyes on him. “He won’t tell me anything, though he got pretty angry with me for agreeing to meet with you.” She glared at him as she took the chair across from him and folded her arms, waiting for an answer.
The blonde sighed and slouched in his seat. “He found me coming out of the Ravenclaw common room last night and completely overreacted. I’ve never seen him so angry. Never.” He brushed a hand through his hair, idly scratching the back of his neck. “The only thing I can figure is that he must assume I cheated on him.”
“But you didn’t?” Hermione interjected quickly.
Draco’s countenance darkened. “No, of course not. He’s the reason I’ve been spending my evenings with Mandy and Morag.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that?”
“It’s a bit of a surprise, actually,” Draco admitted, blushing faintly. “But anyway, the reason I asked you to study was not to study. However, I do need your help. Can you recommend for me a private place I can meet Harry tomorrow?”
Hermione bit her lip in thought. “There is one place…” she offered hesitantly. “But how’re you going to get Harry to meet you there? The way I understand it, the two of you are not exactly on speaking terms.”
“To say the least,” Draco agreed, rubbing his throat. It still bore a slight redness to it from where Harry had pinned him. “I’m going to need your help with that, too. I need you to bring him, under whatever pretenses you like.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I?” she asked pointedly. “He’s really hurt. Maybe he’d be better off without you,” she threatened.
Draco’s eyes blurred momentarily in pain, but he let the remark slide off him like water from a duck’s back. He bowed his head slightly. “I don’t think you really believe that,” he murmured, his voice free of challenge and possessing only the purest sincerity. “I am one of the best things that has ever happened to him, and the reverse is true for me, and you can’t deny it.” He gazed into her eyes pleadingly. “All I want is a chance to make things right.”
~~~***~~~
It was Friday, and Hermione should have been in the library studying so that she’d have the evening free, since it was Valentine’s Day, but instead she was spending her free period that afternoon searching for Harry. “I’ll just have to spend tomorrow working,” she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.
She knocked lightly on the door and was a little taken aback when Ron almost immediately pulled it open. She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss right at the corner of his mouth. “Is Harry here?” she asked.
Ron’s face fell when he realized his girlfriend wasn’t there to see him. He took a step to the side to let her enter and shut the door behind her. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “He’s still moping. I’m sure by now you’ve figured out why.”
Hermione nodded solemnly and walked over to Harry’s four-poster, sighing at the way the curtains were completely drawn. “Harry?” she called tentatively. She peeled back the curtain and climbed onto the bed, letting it fall closed behind her.
Harry sat hunched at the head of the bed, a cigar box full of parchment between his legs. He held one sheaf of it and appeared to be reading, using his wand for light.
Hermione crawled over to him and rested her head against his shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked. He lowered the parchment, and she was able to make out that it was filled with sharp, concise handwriting in silver ink.
Harry sighed and tilted his head against hers. “No, ’Mione, I really don’t think so.”
She kissed his cheek. “Well, I have an idea that might make you feel better." Or at least it had better... She plucked the parchment from his fingers and replaced it in the cigar box and then pulled him out of bed. “Come with me,” she told him confidently. “No questions; just trust me.” She laughed at the curiosity she found in his eyes as she guided him through the door. Then she turned back to Ron. “Don’t worry,” she told him quietly. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back in time for class.”
Ron’s expression morphed into one of complete confusion. “What about Harry?”
“Oh, I have a feeling he’ll be occupied,” she answered cryptically. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Alright,” Ron conceded hesitantly, but Hermione had already shut the door.
She wheeled around and began tugging Harry down the corridor, moving as quickly as possible. (Which wasn’t actually very fast, as she was attempting to drag a boy down the hall that outweighed her by nearly seventy-five pounds.)
“Where are we going?” Harry asked, trying to dig his heels in, but failing because Hermione was very persistent.
“You’ll see soon enough; just hurry,” she nearly pleaded, and Harry finally gave in and broke into a run behind her, his curiosity getting the best of him.
They burst out of the castle moments later, and as Hermione dashed towards the Whomping Willow, her eyes scanning the ground for a long branch, a few things clicked in Harry’s brain. “Why are we going to the Shrieking Shack?” he asked, following her more slowly.
Hermione answered without turning, instead dodging one of the lower branches of the vicious tree to pick up a long stick from the ground. “Haven’t you figured out yet that I’m not going to tell you?” she teased. She prodded the knot in the tree, and as the limbs stilled, turned. “Shall we?”
~~~***~~~
Even knowing where they were headed did not dissuade the insatiable curiosity gnawing at Harry’s vitals. Something was off. He knew he and Hermione had a class in less than an hour. If they were to make it in time, once they arrived at the Shrieking Shack, there would be no time for anything but the trip back. And Hermione never missed a class. Logically, he couldn’t make sense of the situation.
When they finally arrived at the trapdoor that led up into the house, Hermione seemed to make a lot of noise opening it and entering, and Harry wondered about that too. Almost as if on cue, a soft, haunting melody began wafting its way down the stairs.
Harry turned to Hermione and raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly saying, “What’s the meaning of all this?”
She simply gave him a soft, enigmatic smile and stood on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “Your answers lie upstairs,” she murmured. “Be sure to listen.” Then, to Harry’s utter shock, she climbed back down into the tunnel and closed the door behind her with a snap that possessed such finality that it made him take a few steps backward.
However, the music was still playing, and Harry felt completely enthralled as he moved towards the stairs and up them. His steps were measured and cautious, but also possessing a quality that made them appear trance-like.
The music was emanating from the last room at the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and when Harry pushed it open, despite any latent emotions running below the surface, he found himself breathless and mute at the sight with which he was greeted.
He had been in this room before, however it didn’t even resemble what it had been previously. It was completely immaculate; devoid of dust and grime. The enormous four-poster was dressed in new bedding and a new canopy, all in black silk. On every available piece of furniture, the surfaces were covered with burgundy candles, the only light in the room because the windows were blacked out and covered by wine velvet curtains. And there, seated on the center of the bed, was Draco Malfoy, dressed in a tuxedo and looking as elegant as ever playing a flute.
When Draco saw Harry enter the room, he finished the movement he’d been playing and rested the flute across his lap. “I need to explain,” he murmured quietly. “Could you come over here?”
Draco’s words seemed to bring Harry back to awareness, and he remembered why he’d been so angry with his lover. He gazed at the blonde distrustfully for a moment before, against his better judgment, relenting and perching on the edge of the bed.
“Now, I know what you thought you saw, but I swear, Mandy and Morag are just friends of mine; nothing more. You can ask them if you like, but I can guarantee they’re more interested in each other than they are in me.” Draco paused, chuckling quietly, and watching Harry for his response.
“Then what were you doing with them?” Harry asked skeptically.
“Morag’s a half-blood; her mother taught her to play the flute, and I asked her to teach me. Mandy was there to…supervise,” Draco admitted, wearing a faint blush. “That is to say, she’s rather…possessive, I guess the appropriate word would be.” When Harry opened his mouth, Draco predicted his question. “You mentioned you liked flute music a few months ago; it was meant to be a surprise or I’d have told you. I’m sorry for misleading you,” Draco murmured. He bit his lip and set the flute aside, before leaning out to press his lips gently against Harry’s jaw, the action distinctly questioning, almost asking permission.
Harry let Draco’s lips linger there momentarily before turning his head and claiming the pale boy’s mouth possessively, each nip of his lips and tongue an act of punishment as well as an acknowledgement of forgiveness.
Draco pulled away briefly, focusing into green eyes. “I don’t really know what you had planned for today, but I hope the alternate plans I’ve made are not out-of-line.” Eyes sparkling, he gestured to a cauldron sitting on the night table beside the bed.
Harry watched as a dark, viscous liquid bubbled thickly. The cauldron itself must have been subject to a heating charm, because there were no flames beneath it. He grinned and dipped in a finger. “Is this for me?” he asked, running his tongue the length of the digit slowly and savouring the sweet flavour of expensive Swiss chocolate.
In response, Draco grinned roguishly and began unbuttoning Harry’s robes and removing them and the uniform beneath, not stopping until he had the dark-haired boy completely nude. Then he pushed Harry back on the bed and, with a flourish, pulled a pair of green silk scarves from a pocket of his tuxedo. He dragged them down Harry’s bare chest slowly before using them to bind the boy’s wrists to the headboard.
His actions lazy, Draco reached over to the cauldron of molten chocolate and plucked a paintbrush from the table beside it. He licked his lips thoughtfully and began to paint the chocolate along Harry’s toned chest and stomach. His eyes glinting in amusement, he wrote, “I love Slytherins” across the boy’s chest, and then along his stomach, “Down with Weasels.” He painted snakes down Harry’s arms, and an intricate Celtic pattern down the Gryffindor’s thighs. Then, with a devious smirk, he ran a chocolate stripe up the underside of Harry’s gradually hardening cock.
Harry couldn’t help but dissolve into laughter at the ridiculous designs and phrases Draco had painted on him, though he released a low moan when the warm chocolate touched his erection. His moan was twice as impassioned, and his already half-lidded eyes drooped closed as Draco pressed his moist, hot tongue to Harry’s chest, lapping up chocolate as though he hadn’t eaten in days.
As he arched under Draco’s searching tongue, Harry’s taut muscles rippled beneath slightly tanned skin, the movement almost hypnotic. He pulled pleasantly against his bindings, a little surprised by the delicious sensations produced within his abdomen at his complete vulnerability at Draco’s hands. Quiet, mewling moans seemed to be pulled from his throat. His breath caught when he felt Draco’s tongue plunge into his navel, scooping out chocolate and swirling around it lasciviously.
Only after Draco had cleaned the chocolate from every other inch of Harry’s body did he finally turn his attention to the boy’s throbbing erection. He licked his lips slowly, and Harry thought an expression like that on Draco’s face should be made illegal. Then, his pace agonizing in its slowness, the blonde lowered his head and ran his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock, careful to lick it clean.
Harry bit back a low moan, burying his teeth in his lower lip and arching up off the bed and against the ties at his wrists. His eyes were slits, and he lifted his head just enough to watch Draco.
The blonde wore an arrogant smirk as he gazed up into Harry’s eyes. He began flicking his tongue against the head of his lover’s cock, breathing hot little puffs of air over the organ. He seemed to be taking his cues from the other boy’s reactions, and when he thought Harry had taken enough teasing, he drew the head into his mouth slowly, swirling his tongue around it.
Harry’s heart seemed almost to stop, and his breath caught in his throat. He could think of nothing but the moist, velvety heat encircling his erection. “Gods,” he hissed. His lips teasing up at the corners, Harry spread his legs a little, an obvious invitation.
Draco grinned widely and straightened up, standing from the bed and licking his lips lewdly. “What a sight,” he murmured, eyes drinking in every inch of Harry’s body as he removed the jacket of his tuxedo and then began working on the buttons of his shirt. When he got to his cummerbund and it didn’t come off quickly enough, he grew frustrated and nearly ripped it off. “Don’t know why Muggles think these are so attractive,” he muttered, tossing the offending cummerbund to the floor in a heap and sliding out of his trousers. “Damn things have so many parts, you’d need five other people to help you out if it quickly.”
Harry’s breaths were coming out in shallow, ragged pants; the throbbing of his dick was the only thing he could concentrate on. Eyes closed, he began writhing and arching his body on the bed, pulling insistently against his bindings.
Draco fell silent, his silver eyes locked on the seductive way the dark-haired boy’s muscles were rippling smoothly beneath tanned skin. He removed black silk boxers to reveal his own swollen erection, and climbed slowly back onto the bed, moving like a predator stalking its prey as he crawled up towards Harry. He settled himself between the other boy’s thighs and leaned over him to reach for a jar of lube, deliberately pressing his cock into Harry’s leg.
The Gryffindor let out a frustrated growl and wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist, encouraging contact. “Damnit, fuck me already,” he hissed almost painfully.
“Now, now, we mustn’t rush it,” Draco chided with a grin, coating his index finger with lubricant. “After all, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He gently began running his fingertip around the tight ring of muscle that was Harry’s opening, his demeanor teasing.
Once he had Harry squirming and attempting to bear down on his finger, he pushed it in as deeply as it would go. He slid it around to widen to entrance while simultaneously moving it in and out in quick, measured thrusts. He withdrew and coated another finger with lube, before pushing both in.
Harry’s breaths were coming quicker and more ragged, and he forced himself to relax around the intrusion even as he felt Draco’s fingers twisting and scissoring inside him. The pain was minimal; he was rather used to this by now, but what had him squirming and emitting little mewling moans was the insatiable need to have Draco’s length inside him, their bodies pressed flush. He leaned up off the bed as much as his bindings would allow and gazed into Draco’s eyes, his own possessing an intensity very few had ever witnessed. “Fuck me. Now,” he growled, voice low and thick, full of passion.
Draco’s eyes slid shut as he let out a moan. The mere tone of Harry’s voice made his cock pulse more insistently. He removed his fingers from the boy beneath him and scooped out some more lube, letting the jar fall to the thick pile of maroon carpet. He slathered it onto his erection, giving it several long, slow strokes.
Then, wearing a faint smile that reflected nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss, Draco drove his entire length into the velvet heat that was Harry’s opening. He remained motionless, allowing the body beneath him to accustom itself and wondering if the moan that had just permeated the room had belonged to Harry or himself, or had been a combination of the two of them.
His movements even and measured, Draco drew out and then thrust back in, feeling himself delve even deeper. He kept a slow, methodic pace for as long as he could bear it, knowing he was probably driving Harry insane.
And he was. The immense amount of pleasure Harry was experiencing overshadowed the minimal burning sensation he could feel. When Draco took hold of his erection and began stroking it with the same slow pace as his thrusts, even that small amount of pain was forgotten as his abdomen clenched. He gritted his teeth slightly; after all of Draco’s ministrations, he knew he wasn’t likely to last long. It seemed as though his body was pulling him in several different directions, bearing down on Draco’s cock, while simultaneously arching his hips in time with the blonde’s strokes.
Without even realizing it, Draco’s thrusts came faster, his demeanor becoming rapidly more frantic. He dug the fingernails of one hand into Harry’s hip sharply, his other hand increasing its pace on the dark-haired boy’s shaft.
Harry let out a whimper as the friction on his dick increased. He arched halfway off the bed, his muscles tensing, and because of the pulsing orgasm permeating his body, he barely felt the silk scarves digging sharply into his wrists; the pain was almost an extension of his ecstasy. The air in the room seemed thick, and Harry’s low moan seemed to hang there between them, reverberating slightly.
As Harry’s hot seed spurted onto the pale skin of his hand and forearm, Draco himself came as well. Instinctively, he curled himself over the boy beneath him, his teeth finding Harry’s collarbone and nipping sharply. He sucked at the blossoming bruise, savouring the salty tang of Harry’s perspiration as both their bodies shuddered with telltale convulsions. Finally, his fingers quavering, Draco reached up one hand and awkwardly untied the scarves binding Harry’s wrists.
As soon as his arms were freed, the dark-haired boy wrapped them around the blonde tightly, as though he were clinging to a life preserver in a storm-ravaged sea. One hand tangled in Draco’s sweat-slicked mop of long, platinum hair and stayed there. Vivid green eyes sought out startling silver. “I love you,” he murmured hoarsely. “Don’t ever make me worry like that again.”
Draco chuckled quietly. “I won’t.” He pressed a kiss solidly to Harry’s lips and stood slowly, suddenly looking rather nervous. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his tone one that would seem to imply he was hiding something. “Could you get dressed?” he asked quietly, eyes darting to Harry’s as he moved for his own clothing. “I’ve got something else planned.”
Harry rolled over on his stomach wearing a boyish grin. “Do we have to? I think we should stay here a little longer,” he murmured suggestively. He made a grab for Draco’s waist as the blonde passed by, but he was easily sidestepped.
“I’m afraid not,” Draco replied slipping into his trousers, now completely refusing to meet his lover’s gaze. “I have to repay a debt.”
Harry just stared at the blonde questioningly, waiting for him to explain.
Draco sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “In order to get the flute lessons with Morag, I had to agree to do her and Mandy a favour.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, allowing his lover to continue uninterrupted.
“I agreed for the four of us to go on a double-date this evening. Mandy and Morag wanted to go out in public together for Valentine’s Day, but without having to deal with potential static, and they figured we might feel the same. …So we’re going to go into Hogsmeade for dinner?” he asked uncertainly.
Whatever reaction Draco had been expecting, what he received was quite the opposite. Harry’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Sounds like fun,” he laughed. He got up and began searching the floor for his discarded boxers.
It took Draco a minute to recover from his shock. “Um…I got you a tuxedo to wear,” he offered. “It’s in the closet.”
Harry slipped on his boxers and went to the closet, his entire demeanor excited. “Where are we going?”
“Mandy was in charge of that. We’re meeting them in front of Zonko’s in,” Draco checked the mantle clock,” forty minutes.” A relieved and slightly amused expression settled on his face as he watched Harry struggle into his tuxedo. “One thing,” he murmured after a few minutes,” don’t have too much fun,” he warned teasingly. “Or we may end up with ‘girlfriends’.”
Harry could only laugh.
~~~***~~~
Author: Teh
skellywagFandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Light bondage, food!sex, uber-saccharine fluff, and logical!Ron
Disclaimer: Not mine...yada yada yada
A/N: Written as a gift for
actress_krissie for hpvalensmut“I can’t tonight,” Draco muttered, biting his lip nervously. He averted his eyes, glancing down the nearly abandoned Charms corridor.
Harry narrowed his eyes critically and followed his lover’s gaze to the only other people in the hall, a pair of Ravenclaws. “Why not?” he asked, rather too sharply, causing the Ravenclaws to look their way. He took Draco by the arm and pulled him further down the corridor, now speaking in a hushed, but no less irritated, voice. “You couldn’t yesterday or Sunday either. As a matter of fact, this past month I’ve been seeing less and less of you.”
Draco lowered his eyes guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve been pretty busy…” he trailed off.
Harry sighed, brushing a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine,” he relented. “However, you’d best make sure you don’t make any plans for Valentine’s Day. You haven’t forgotten that we’ve got plans to skip class and stay in your room all day, right?” he nearly accused.
The blonde averted his eyes and shook his head quickly. “My Friday’s wide open.” With a glance to the pair of Ravenclaws, he tugged Harry around the corner and out of their line of vision before crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss, slender fingers tangling in jet-black hair.
They broke apart, sooner than Harry would have liked, and Draco licked his lips, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got to go now,” he muttered, trying to fix his mussed-up hair. “See you later, luv.” Then he turned and left, reentering the Charms corridor.
Harry took a little longer to compose himself, still rather upset about the whole situation. When he finally reentered the Charms corridor himself, neither Draco nor anyone else was anywhere to be seen.
~~~***~~~
The next morning, a Wednesday, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, morosely playing with his scrambled eggs, but too upset to actually eat anything. His eyes continuously darted to the Slytherin table, but Draco hadn’t shown up yet.
“You gonna eat those, mate?” asked Ron from his left.
Harry made a face and pushed over his plate. “Have at it,” he muttered.
Ron looked up quickly at the tone of his friend’s voice. “Something wrong?”
“No,” Harry answered quickly.
Too quickly. Ron knew immediately what, or rather who, his friend was upset about. However, when Harry had first told him and Hermione about his relationship with Draco, they had come to the agreement that they would avoid the topic, if at all possible. However, one look at the hurt expression on Harry’s face made Ron pause and rethink his decision. “Harry, if you want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen and offer any advice I can,” he said haltingly.
Harry bit his lip hesitantly. “It’s just…I think there’s something wrong. It seems like Draco has been avoiding me; making excuses not to see me.” He didn’t dare utter his real worry: that Draco was seeing someone else.
However, Ron seemed to realize Harry’s real concern as though he’d voiced it out loud. “Are you sure?” he asked, struggling to keep all of his derogatory anti-Malfoy comments locked behind his lips.
Harry sighed. “Well, it’s not like I have any evidence; he hasn’t come out and said anything. But when I talk to him, he gets this antsy look on his face liked he’s got somewhere else to be; like he’d rather be anywhere else.”
Ron frowned, his expression uncertain. “Well, you know how I feel about the git, but I guess you should give him a chance. Watch his behaviour. Maybe even spy on him.”
To say that Harry was surprised by Ron’s relatively mild and wholly rational advice would be an understatement. “I really appreciate that,” he replied sincerely, offering a wavering smile. He turned quickly in his seat, hearing the doors of the Great Hall swing open.
Draco entered the room slowly, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His chin-length blonde hair was only semi-slicked back, the ends curling up at the base of his neck and sticking up around his ears. His robes were hanging open to reveal the fact that his shirt was untucked, half his buttons weren’t fastened correctly, and his tie hung limply around his neck. Draco didn’t even glance in Harry's direction, instead heading straight to the Slytherin table and ignoring questions from his housemates as he loaded a plate with French toast.
Harry got to his feet, his posture sagging. “I’ll see you in class,” he muttered to Ron, his eyes locked across the room on a boy who wouldn’t look back. Then he turned and left the room, not noticing that Draco’s eyes had finally lifted to watch him, expression full of merriment.
~~~***~~~
Harry brushed sweat-soaked hair out of his face with frustration. He’d been pacing the dungeon for hours under his invisibility cloak. He’d been cold at first, but that obviously was not the case now. Silently he cursed his insecurity, which had urged him to follow Ron’s advice to spy on Draco. Right after dinner, he’d gone up to his dorm to retrieve the cloak and had immediately gone down to stake out the entrance to the Slytherin common room, waiting for Draco to emerge.
It occurred to Harry that the blonde could indeed be seeing a member of his own house, but he couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of that idea. Draco had made it abundantly clear that none of his house appealed to him in the slightest, a point that relieved Harry greatly.
It was getting late, and Harry was beginning to think he might have been wrong and perhaps Draco had just needed to study, when the trapdoor slid open, and none other than the blonde Slytherin appeared, looking remarkably more put-together than he had that morning. In fact, though it may have been Harry’s jealousy working overtime, Draco looked better than he did when he was meeting Harry. He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from confronting his lover; he knew he’d never get any answers that way. Instead, he remained silent, pressing his back to the stone wall behind him as Draco passed by, moving up and out of the dungeons.
Harry could scarcely breathe as he trailed the Slytherin, trying not to follow too closely, but drawn like a magnet to its opposite pole, or perhaps a moth to flame. More than once, he’d nearly stepped on Draco’s heels, or the blonde had stopped abruptly after feeling Harry’s breath on his neck, and the green-eyed boy was forced to retreat, trying to clear his mind and stay focused on his objective.
Harry’s confusion was clear on his face (not that anyone could see it) when Draco paused halfway down the fourth floor corridor and rapped his knuckles against the forehead of a bust of Morgan le Fay. Out of instinct and not any sort of logic, Harry took a few steps backward, pressing into the shadows even further. He watched as the bust and its pedestal slid to the same side and the wall behind it sank into the floor, revealing the same pair of Ravenclaws he’d seen the day before.
He could barely contain the flash of jealousy that permeated his body. Upon better inspection, he realized he recognized the two girls as Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal. They were both very pretty, and he couldn’t help but stiffen as Draco stood between them, wrapping an arm around each of their waists.
Draco flashed each girl a playboy smile. “So are we going to do this here and give your housemates a show, or shall we find someplace a bit more private?” he asked chuckling.
Mandy did her best to look abashed, but she quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles, as did Morag on Draco’s other side. “We can go to our dormitory. I’m sure we won’t be disturbed there.”
Draco’s carefree laughter echoed through the corridor as the wall and the bust of Morgan le Fay slid back into place, the sound buffeting Harry’s brain painfully. He was seething with furious jealousy, and yet there were angry tears stinging his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.
Harry had no concept of time as he sat in the corridor, shrouded in invisibility, but when Draco finally emerged, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first three buttons of his shirt unfastened, the green-eyed boy had a sneaking suspicion that it was well after midnight. He let Draco get a ways down the hall before stumbling to his feet and stalking after him.
Suddenly, all the pain Harry had felt, seeing Draco touching those girls so casually, his demeanor quite obviously flirtatious, came rushing back to him in a tidal wave of fury, and his pace quickened. With an almost feral snarl, he seized the blonde by the back of his shirt and practically threw him into the wall. He quickly followed, pinning Draco to the stone with his invisible body and placing one arm quite deliberately over the boy’s throat to keep him from uttering more than a whisper. He watched as Draco’s expression morphed from one of surprise to one of dawning realization and barely disguised fear. “Harry?” he hissed, his tone clearly terrified. “Is that you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Harry responded viciously. “How could you do this to me?” he asked, voice cracking from the pain that even having to ask that question caused.
“Do what?” Draco cried out hoarsely, grasping desperately at Harry’s arm, but obviously caught at a disadvantage. “I swear I didn’t do anything. What’s going on?”
Harry sighed and released Draco, taking several steps backward and pulling the invisibility cloak from his face. His green eyes were cold as he stared down at Draco as the blond sank to the floor rubbing his throat and breathing heavily. Harry felt slightly gratified by the red bruise beginning to bloom on the pale boy’s neck. “Stay away from me,” he snarled threateningly. “You’ve betrayed me, and I want nothing more to do with you, Malfoy.” He spat the blonde’s surname as though someone had force-fed him poison.
Draco’s silver eyes were wounded as he raised them to the Gryffindor. “I don’t understand,” he murmured painfully, however Harry had already stalked halfway down the corridor and either hadn’t heard or hadn’t wanted to, because he didn’t turn.
Draco slumped against the wall, face in his hands, until he realized what must have happened and mentally kicked himself. “Discretion, Malfoy,” he muttered to himself darkly. As he stood and headed silently back to his common room, he vowed to get Harry back.
~~~***~~~
Draco had been up most of the night making plans, throwing them out, and making new ones, and so slept through breakfast as well as his first two classes. He knew he’d be able to smooth things over with Professors Snape and Vector easily enough, and furthermore, his absence from those classes would help him with the first stage of his plan.
He ate lunch within ten minutes, and, after ignoring the questions from his housemates regarding his skivving off two classes (Honestly, didn’t they have lives of their own to concern themselves with?), he got up and crossed the Great Hall, heading for the Gryffindor table.
“Granger, I was wondering if you might be able to explain today’s Arithmancy lesson,” he murmured to Hermione casually, trying to ignore Ron’s glare and Harry’s pointed refusal to even glance in his direction. He shifted uneasily. Maybe this was going to be even more difficult than he’d expected.
Hermione narrowed her eyes critically at the blonde. Able, that was one thing, but willing quite another. “Fine, Malfoy,” she sniffed, looking rather angry herself. Harry hadn’t told her why he was so upset when he’d returned to the common room last night, but instinctively she’d known it had something to do with the Slytherin. The main reason she was even agreeing to this was to find out the truth, though they’d actually begun studying together a while ago, and it wasn’t all that strange an occurrence. In fact, it was through studying together that they’d reconciled after Harry and Draco had begun seeing one another secretly. “Meet me in the library in ten minutes; I need to finish eating,” she muttered, her tone thoroughly disgusted, as though she’d just agreed to make a deal with the devil.
Draco nodded and headed to the library, instantly searching for the most secluded table. He didn’t care that there were only four other people there; he didn’t want to take any chances that they be overheard.
Hermione looked extremely harried when she finally found him, in the back of the dust-encrusted History of Magic section. “What did you do to Harry?” she hissed the instant she laid eyes on him. “He won’t tell me anything, though he got pretty angry with me for agreeing to meet with you.” She glared at him as she took the chair across from him and folded her arms, waiting for an answer.
The blonde sighed and slouched in his seat. “He found me coming out of the Ravenclaw common room last night and completely overreacted. I’ve never seen him so angry. Never.” He brushed a hand through his hair, idly scratching the back of his neck. “The only thing I can figure is that he must assume I cheated on him.”
“But you didn’t?” Hermione interjected quickly.
Draco’s countenance darkened. “No, of course not. He’s the reason I’ve been spending my evenings with Mandy and Morag.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that?”
“It’s a bit of a surprise, actually,” Draco admitted, blushing faintly. “But anyway, the reason I asked you to study was not to study. However, I do need your help. Can you recommend for me a private place I can meet Harry tomorrow?”
Hermione bit her lip in thought. “There is one place…” she offered hesitantly. “But how’re you going to get Harry to meet you there? The way I understand it, the two of you are not exactly on speaking terms.”
“To say the least,” Draco agreed, rubbing his throat. It still bore a slight redness to it from where Harry had pinned him. “I’m going to need your help with that, too. I need you to bring him, under whatever pretenses you like.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I?” she asked pointedly. “He’s really hurt. Maybe he’d be better off without you,” she threatened.
Draco’s eyes blurred momentarily in pain, but he let the remark slide off him like water from a duck’s back. He bowed his head slightly. “I don’t think you really believe that,” he murmured, his voice free of challenge and possessing only the purest sincerity. “I am one of the best things that has ever happened to him, and the reverse is true for me, and you can’t deny it.” He gazed into her eyes pleadingly. “All I want is a chance to make things right.”
~~~***~~~
It was Friday, and Hermione should have been in the library studying so that she’d have the evening free, since it was Valentine’s Day, but instead she was spending her free period that afternoon searching for Harry. “I’ll just have to spend tomorrow working,” she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.
She knocked lightly on the door and was a little taken aback when Ron almost immediately pulled it open. She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss right at the corner of his mouth. “Is Harry here?” she asked.
Ron’s face fell when he realized his girlfriend wasn’t there to see him. He took a step to the side to let her enter and shut the door behind her. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “He’s still moping. I’m sure by now you’ve figured out why.”
Hermione nodded solemnly and walked over to Harry’s four-poster, sighing at the way the curtains were completely drawn. “Harry?” she called tentatively. She peeled back the curtain and climbed onto the bed, letting it fall closed behind her.
Harry sat hunched at the head of the bed, a cigar box full of parchment between his legs. He held one sheaf of it and appeared to be reading, using his wand for light.
Hermione crawled over to him and rested her head against his shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked. He lowered the parchment, and she was able to make out that it was filled with sharp, concise handwriting in silver ink.
Harry sighed and tilted his head against hers. “No, ’Mione, I really don’t think so.”
She kissed his cheek. “Well, I have an idea that might make you feel better." Or at least it had better... She plucked the parchment from his fingers and replaced it in the cigar box and then pulled him out of bed. “Come with me,” she told him confidently. “No questions; just trust me.” She laughed at the curiosity she found in his eyes as she guided him through the door. Then she turned back to Ron. “Don’t worry,” she told him quietly. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back in time for class.”
Ron’s expression morphed into one of complete confusion. “What about Harry?”
“Oh, I have a feeling he’ll be occupied,” she answered cryptically. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Alright,” Ron conceded hesitantly, but Hermione had already shut the door.
She wheeled around and began tugging Harry down the corridor, moving as quickly as possible. (Which wasn’t actually very fast, as she was attempting to drag a boy down the hall that outweighed her by nearly seventy-five pounds.)
“Where are we going?” Harry asked, trying to dig his heels in, but failing because Hermione was very persistent.
“You’ll see soon enough; just hurry,” she nearly pleaded, and Harry finally gave in and broke into a run behind her, his curiosity getting the best of him.
They burst out of the castle moments later, and as Hermione dashed towards the Whomping Willow, her eyes scanning the ground for a long branch, a few things clicked in Harry’s brain. “Why are we going to the Shrieking Shack?” he asked, following her more slowly.
Hermione answered without turning, instead dodging one of the lower branches of the vicious tree to pick up a long stick from the ground. “Haven’t you figured out yet that I’m not going to tell you?” she teased. She prodded the knot in the tree, and as the limbs stilled, turned. “Shall we?”
~~~***~~~
Even knowing where they were headed did not dissuade the insatiable curiosity gnawing at Harry’s vitals. Something was off. He knew he and Hermione had a class in less than an hour. If they were to make it in time, once they arrived at the Shrieking Shack, there would be no time for anything but the trip back. And Hermione never missed a class. Logically, he couldn’t make sense of the situation.
When they finally arrived at the trapdoor that led up into the house, Hermione seemed to make a lot of noise opening it and entering, and Harry wondered about that too. Almost as if on cue, a soft, haunting melody began wafting its way down the stairs.
Harry turned to Hermione and raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly saying, “What’s the meaning of all this?”
She simply gave him a soft, enigmatic smile and stood on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “Your answers lie upstairs,” she murmured. “Be sure to listen.” Then, to Harry’s utter shock, she climbed back down into the tunnel and closed the door behind her with a snap that possessed such finality that it made him take a few steps backward.
However, the music was still playing, and Harry felt completely enthralled as he moved towards the stairs and up them. His steps were measured and cautious, but also possessing a quality that made them appear trance-like.
The music was emanating from the last room at the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and when Harry pushed it open, despite any latent emotions running below the surface, he found himself breathless and mute at the sight with which he was greeted.
He had been in this room before, however it didn’t even resemble what it had been previously. It was completely immaculate; devoid of dust and grime. The enormous four-poster was dressed in new bedding and a new canopy, all in black silk. On every available piece of furniture, the surfaces were covered with burgundy candles, the only light in the room because the windows were blacked out and covered by wine velvet curtains. And there, seated on the center of the bed, was Draco Malfoy, dressed in a tuxedo and looking as elegant as ever playing a flute.
When Draco saw Harry enter the room, he finished the movement he’d been playing and rested the flute across his lap. “I need to explain,” he murmured quietly. “Could you come over here?”
Draco’s words seemed to bring Harry back to awareness, and he remembered why he’d been so angry with his lover. He gazed at the blonde distrustfully for a moment before, against his better judgment, relenting and perching on the edge of the bed.
“Now, I know what you thought you saw, but I swear, Mandy and Morag are just friends of mine; nothing more. You can ask them if you like, but I can guarantee they’re more interested in each other than they are in me.” Draco paused, chuckling quietly, and watching Harry for his response.
“Then what were you doing with them?” Harry asked skeptically.
“Morag’s a half-blood; her mother taught her to play the flute, and I asked her to teach me. Mandy was there to…supervise,” Draco admitted, wearing a faint blush. “That is to say, she’s rather…possessive, I guess the appropriate word would be.” When Harry opened his mouth, Draco predicted his question. “You mentioned you liked flute music a few months ago; it was meant to be a surprise or I’d have told you. I’m sorry for misleading you,” Draco murmured. He bit his lip and set the flute aside, before leaning out to press his lips gently against Harry’s jaw, the action distinctly questioning, almost asking permission.
Harry let Draco’s lips linger there momentarily before turning his head and claiming the pale boy’s mouth possessively, each nip of his lips and tongue an act of punishment as well as an acknowledgement of forgiveness.
Draco pulled away briefly, focusing into green eyes. “I don’t really know what you had planned for today, but I hope the alternate plans I’ve made are not out-of-line.” Eyes sparkling, he gestured to a cauldron sitting on the night table beside the bed.
Harry watched as a dark, viscous liquid bubbled thickly. The cauldron itself must have been subject to a heating charm, because there were no flames beneath it. He grinned and dipped in a finger. “Is this for me?” he asked, running his tongue the length of the digit slowly and savouring the sweet flavour of expensive Swiss chocolate.
In response, Draco grinned roguishly and began unbuttoning Harry’s robes and removing them and the uniform beneath, not stopping until he had the dark-haired boy completely nude. Then he pushed Harry back on the bed and, with a flourish, pulled a pair of green silk scarves from a pocket of his tuxedo. He dragged them down Harry’s bare chest slowly before using them to bind the boy’s wrists to the headboard.
His actions lazy, Draco reached over to the cauldron of molten chocolate and plucked a paintbrush from the table beside it. He licked his lips thoughtfully and began to paint the chocolate along Harry’s toned chest and stomach. His eyes glinting in amusement, he wrote, “I love Slytherins” across the boy’s chest, and then along his stomach, “Down with Weasels.” He painted snakes down Harry’s arms, and an intricate Celtic pattern down the Gryffindor’s thighs. Then, with a devious smirk, he ran a chocolate stripe up the underside of Harry’s gradually hardening cock.
Harry couldn’t help but dissolve into laughter at the ridiculous designs and phrases Draco had painted on him, though he released a low moan when the warm chocolate touched his erection. His moan was twice as impassioned, and his already half-lidded eyes drooped closed as Draco pressed his moist, hot tongue to Harry’s chest, lapping up chocolate as though he hadn’t eaten in days.
As he arched under Draco’s searching tongue, Harry’s taut muscles rippled beneath slightly tanned skin, the movement almost hypnotic. He pulled pleasantly against his bindings, a little surprised by the delicious sensations produced within his abdomen at his complete vulnerability at Draco’s hands. Quiet, mewling moans seemed to be pulled from his throat. His breath caught when he felt Draco’s tongue plunge into his navel, scooping out chocolate and swirling around it lasciviously.
Only after Draco had cleaned the chocolate from every other inch of Harry’s body did he finally turn his attention to the boy’s throbbing erection. He licked his lips slowly, and Harry thought an expression like that on Draco’s face should be made illegal. Then, his pace agonizing in its slowness, the blonde lowered his head and ran his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock, careful to lick it clean.
Harry bit back a low moan, burying his teeth in his lower lip and arching up off the bed and against the ties at his wrists. His eyes were slits, and he lifted his head just enough to watch Draco.
The blonde wore an arrogant smirk as he gazed up into Harry’s eyes. He began flicking his tongue against the head of his lover’s cock, breathing hot little puffs of air over the organ. He seemed to be taking his cues from the other boy’s reactions, and when he thought Harry had taken enough teasing, he drew the head into his mouth slowly, swirling his tongue around it.
Harry’s heart seemed almost to stop, and his breath caught in his throat. He could think of nothing but the moist, velvety heat encircling his erection. “Gods,” he hissed. His lips teasing up at the corners, Harry spread his legs a little, an obvious invitation.
Draco grinned widely and straightened up, standing from the bed and licking his lips lewdly. “What a sight,” he murmured, eyes drinking in every inch of Harry’s body as he removed the jacket of his tuxedo and then began working on the buttons of his shirt. When he got to his cummerbund and it didn’t come off quickly enough, he grew frustrated and nearly ripped it off. “Don’t know why Muggles think these are so attractive,” he muttered, tossing the offending cummerbund to the floor in a heap and sliding out of his trousers. “Damn things have so many parts, you’d need five other people to help you out if it quickly.”
Harry’s breaths were coming out in shallow, ragged pants; the throbbing of his dick was the only thing he could concentrate on. Eyes closed, he began writhing and arching his body on the bed, pulling insistently against his bindings.
Draco fell silent, his silver eyes locked on the seductive way the dark-haired boy’s muscles were rippling smoothly beneath tanned skin. He removed black silk boxers to reveal his own swollen erection, and climbed slowly back onto the bed, moving like a predator stalking its prey as he crawled up towards Harry. He settled himself between the other boy’s thighs and leaned over him to reach for a jar of lube, deliberately pressing his cock into Harry’s leg.
The Gryffindor let out a frustrated growl and wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist, encouraging contact. “Damnit, fuck me already,” he hissed almost painfully.
“Now, now, we mustn’t rush it,” Draco chided with a grin, coating his index finger with lubricant. “After all, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He gently began running his fingertip around the tight ring of muscle that was Harry’s opening, his demeanor teasing.
Once he had Harry squirming and attempting to bear down on his finger, he pushed it in as deeply as it would go. He slid it around to widen to entrance while simultaneously moving it in and out in quick, measured thrusts. He withdrew and coated another finger with lube, before pushing both in.
Harry’s breaths were coming quicker and more ragged, and he forced himself to relax around the intrusion even as he felt Draco’s fingers twisting and scissoring inside him. The pain was minimal; he was rather used to this by now, but what had him squirming and emitting little mewling moans was the insatiable need to have Draco’s length inside him, their bodies pressed flush. He leaned up off the bed as much as his bindings would allow and gazed into Draco’s eyes, his own possessing an intensity very few had ever witnessed. “Fuck me. Now,” he growled, voice low and thick, full of passion.
Draco’s eyes slid shut as he let out a moan. The mere tone of Harry’s voice made his cock pulse more insistently. He removed his fingers from the boy beneath him and scooped out some more lube, letting the jar fall to the thick pile of maroon carpet. He slathered it onto his erection, giving it several long, slow strokes.
Then, wearing a faint smile that reflected nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss, Draco drove his entire length into the velvet heat that was Harry’s opening. He remained motionless, allowing the body beneath him to accustom itself and wondering if the moan that had just permeated the room had belonged to Harry or himself, or had been a combination of the two of them.
His movements even and measured, Draco drew out and then thrust back in, feeling himself delve even deeper. He kept a slow, methodic pace for as long as he could bear it, knowing he was probably driving Harry insane.
And he was. The immense amount of pleasure Harry was experiencing overshadowed the minimal burning sensation he could feel. When Draco took hold of his erection and began stroking it with the same slow pace as his thrusts, even that small amount of pain was forgotten as his abdomen clenched. He gritted his teeth slightly; after all of Draco’s ministrations, he knew he wasn’t likely to last long. It seemed as though his body was pulling him in several different directions, bearing down on Draco’s cock, while simultaneously arching his hips in time with the blonde’s strokes.
Without even realizing it, Draco’s thrusts came faster, his demeanor becoming rapidly more frantic. He dug the fingernails of one hand into Harry’s hip sharply, his other hand increasing its pace on the dark-haired boy’s shaft.
Harry let out a whimper as the friction on his dick increased. He arched halfway off the bed, his muscles tensing, and because of the pulsing orgasm permeating his body, he barely felt the silk scarves digging sharply into his wrists; the pain was almost an extension of his ecstasy. The air in the room seemed thick, and Harry’s low moan seemed to hang there between them, reverberating slightly.
As Harry’s hot seed spurted onto the pale skin of his hand and forearm, Draco himself came as well. Instinctively, he curled himself over the boy beneath him, his teeth finding Harry’s collarbone and nipping sharply. He sucked at the blossoming bruise, savouring the salty tang of Harry’s perspiration as both their bodies shuddered with telltale convulsions. Finally, his fingers quavering, Draco reached up one hand and awkwardly untied the scarves binding Harry’s wrists.
As soon as his arms were freed, the dark-haired boy wrapped them around the blonde tightly, as though he were clinging to a life preserver in a storm-ravaged sea. One hand tangled in Draco’s sweat-slicked mop of long, platinum hair and stayed there. Vivid green eyes sought out startling silver. “I love you,” he murmured hoarsely. “Don’t ever make me worry like that again.”
Draco chuckled quietly. “I won’t.” He pressed a kiss solidly to Harry’s lips and stood slowly, suddenly looking rather nervous. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his tone one that would seem to imply he was hiding something. “Could you get dressed?” he asked quietly, eyes darting to Harry’s as he moved for his own clothing. “I’ve got something else planned.”
Harry rolled over on his stomach wearing a boyish grin. “Do we have to? I think we should stay here a little longer,” he murmured suggestively. He made a grab for Draco’s waist as the blonde passed by, but he was easily sidestepped.
“I’m afraid not,” Draco replied slipping into his trousers, now completely refusing to meet his lover’s gaze. “I have to repay a debt.”
Harry just stared at the blonde questioningly, waiting for him to explain.
Draco sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “In order to get the flute lessons with Morag, I had to agree to do her and Mandy a favour.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, allowing his lover to continue uninterrupted.
“I agreed for the four of us to go on a double-date this evening. Mandy and Morag wanted to go out in public together for Valentine’s Day, but without having to deal with potential static, and they figured we might feel the same. …So we’re going to go into Hogsmeade for dinner?” he asked uncertainly.
Whatever reaction Draco had been expecting, what he received was quite the opposite. Harry’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Sounds like fun,” he laughed. He got up and began searching the floor for his discarded boxers.
It took Draco a minute to recover from his shock. “Um…I got you a tuxedo to wear,” he offered. “It’s in the closet.”
Harry slipped on his boxers and went to the closet, his entire demeanor excited. “Where are we going?”
“Mandy was in charge of that. We’re meeting them in front of Zonko’s in,” Draco checked the mantle clock,” forty minutes.” A relieved and slightly amused expression settled on his face as he watched Harry struggle into his tuxedo. “One thing,” he murmured after a few minutes,” don’t have too much fun,” he warned teasingly. “Or we may end up with ‘girlfriends’.”
Harry could only laugh.
~~~***~~~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2004-05-26 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-26 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2004-05-26 11:16 pm (UTC)How could I not like it? There was Draco playing the flute...*melts* It's still so pretty...I reread it earlier and smiled all morning.
no subject
on 2004-05-26 11:39 pm (UTC)Hee hee.... ;-)
on 2004-05-26 07:57 pm (UTC)Well, in -that- case... *Grin*
on 2004-05-26 09:12 pm (UTC)"Dance With Me" Rated R Lucius/Sirius
"Only the Best" Rated R Harry/Lucius
"The Storm" Rated R Harry/Lucius
"Atonement" Rated R Draco/Harry
"Deliberate Insanity" Rated PG Draco/Harry
Some of those R's up there may or may not be really PG-13, but I've forgotten and was guessing. Enjoy!
Re: Well, in -that- case... *Grin*
on 2004-05-29 03:24 am (UTC)