Fiction - 09 - Upside Down - Harry Potter
Title: Upside down
Fandom: Harry Potter
Category: Dark Fiction
Rating: R
Series: Battlefields Series
Note: Thanks to marcasita and off_that_bridge for beta help. 2,260 words. All remaining blunders are mine.
Previous parts are Here or Here
Feedback: Yes please that would be very nice. I'd like to hear what you think.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Bless her.
Summary: Harry takes. Draco has no clue how to handle things.
He was sitting, staring out the small window, when Potter stomped into the flat, obviously on a mission. Draco jumped up and moved away from the window, afraid that perhaps he'd somehow angered Potter. But Potter barely noticed him as he marched straight into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
It had been three days since Potter had passed out in his room drunk. Draco had managed to stay out of Potter's way most times. Potter went back to barely speaking to him, and Draco liked it that way.
The only problem was boredom. It was mind-numbingly boring here, and Draco would rather be transfigured into a ferret again than ask anything of Potter.
A few hours later, Potter emerged with a determined expression on his face. Draco was sitting at the kitchen table when Potter set a small glass down in front of him.
"Drink this now," Potter ordered.
Draco glared up at him and then down at the dark liquid. It looked vile and disgusting. He leaned in close and sniffed, jerking his head back almost immediately. It smelled just as vile as it looked. He wanted to say no thank you. He wanted to say that he wasn't thirsty, but when he glanced up at Potter, the look in the other's eyes stopped him.
Potter pulled his wand out. "Either you drink that or I petrify you and stuff you in the broom cupboard," he said as he held his wand at the ready. "I'll toss my smelly laundry on top of you to hide your body."
Draco knew by the look in Potter's eyes that he wasn't joking. He picked up the glass and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to swallow the contents in one gulp. Draco gagged at the last gulp and dropped the glass.
"No need to worry. Hermione brewed it up," Potter said with a smirk. He picked up the now empty glass and tucked his wand away, then started to wash the glass. "Your name is Philip. You're living here with me until you can find a place of your own," Potter said as he dried the clean glass and set it back in the cupboard above the counter. Potter turned round to face Draco and pointed a finger at him.
"Polyjuice," Draco whispered as he looked down to see that his hands were already transforming. He slipped from his chair, knees banging against the floor. "Bastard," he muttered, as the burning sensation spread through his body. He curled into a ball and cringed. His insides lurched as though trying to burst free from his body.
"Oh, don't be such a child. It's perfectly safe and it'll all be over in just a moment," Potter scorned. He knelt over Draco's writhing form, a malicious grin on his face. "You call me Harry while..."
Potter started at the loud bang on the front door. Draco reached out to grab at Potter as he walked from the room. Potter stopped in his tracks and looked down at him.
"Be good and I'll let you go outside," Potter said, leaving Draco to twitch in agony on the kitchen floor. It was over soon enough. The sensations suddenly stopped and the feeling of being twisted into a million little knots was gone.
Draco could hear voices from the hallway. Potter was greeting someone and inviting them inside.
"This is it?" a familiar voice said.
Draco pushed himself back up to sit in the chair, clutching at his stomach. He held his hands up to see that they didn't look that much different than his own. He wanted a mirror to see what Potter had done to him, but the only shiny surface was the glass of the window. He turned to face it and could just make out that his hair was now shoulder length and blond. His t-shirt and jeans were now a bit too large.
Draco froze in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. They were coming into the kitchen.
It sounded like Weasley. "It looks rather small," Weasley said, "but cosy," Weasley added as Potter and he stepped into the small space. Draco couldn't move. He felt much too disoriented to do anything but sit and stare at somebody he'd never expected to see again.
There he stood. Ron Weasley. The last time Draco had seen Weasley had been on a bloodstained battlefield. Now he was just mere feet away from Draco, looking rather pleased. It took all Draco's willpower not to punch the smile from Weasley's face.
"Who's this?" Weasley asked. Potter grabbed Weasley by his arm and pulled him from the room.
"He's just my flatmate, Philip. I'm helping him out," Potter said as he tried to turn Weasley from the room, but he twisted from Potter's grip and leaned against the kitchen counter.
"Really? He the reason you've been so preoccupied?" Weasley stared down at Draco with curiosity. "Hullo, Philip." Weasley held his hand out for Draco to shake.
Draco wanted to laugh at how right Weasley actually was about what had been distracting Potter, but he kept his mouth shut and stared back at Weasley's beady little eyes. He didn't take the offered hand. An uncomfortable silence stretched on far too long.
"Not really," Potter said as he walked over and stood beside Draco. He nudged Draco in the head with his arm. "He's mute. Can't speak a word," Potter added.
"Ha, ha, very funny, Po--" Draco flinched at the kick to his shin. Potter had taken care to land his blow while Weasley was distracted by the still painting on the wall. No doubt the fact that it was not moving had caught his attention. "Harry," Draco corrected, saying the name as though he were spitting. "If I'd known you were going to have a guest, I would have dressed up."
Potter sneered and nudged him again until Draco almost fell out of the seat. "We'd like some privacy," Potter whispered. He leaned down, his eyes still focused on Weasley. "And don't try anything funny."
Draco stood up, his entire body stiff. He was sure that Weasley would somehow know it was him and not this person, Philip, whom Potter had created. Nobody said a word as he walked from the kitchen.
Draco sat down on the sofa. He didn't really have anyplace else to go, and he wasn't in the mood to sit in the toilet. He could still hear every word coming from the kitchen.
"He's not very friendly," he heard Weasley say.
"He's just tired," Potter replied. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed through the flat. Draco almost wished he'd chosen to be petrified, until Weasley spoke up again.
"Have you any leads yet on where Malfoy might be?" Draco stood at the mention of his name. The question was followed by a long silence. The shrill of a kettle whistling broke it. His heart sped up and his throat tightened. Why would Weasley be asking about him?
"I'd have told you if I had, wouldn't I?" Potter finally said, barely loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco stood and crept as quietly as he could so that he stood right against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen.
"No telling where he went. He's probably long gone by now," Weasley said. A spoon clattered. Draco strained to hear.
"It'd have to be that, or I'd have found him by now," Potter muttered. "Let's not talk about work."
Work? What did Potter mean by that?
Draco risked a peek into the room to find Potter and Weasley sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.
When neither of the two men on the other side of the wall spoke again, Draco slipped away just as silently and headed for the toilet. He pulled at his jeans as they slowly slipped down his waist and perched on his hips, threatening to slide down completely.
Draco flipped the light switch and stood staring at the stranger in the mirror. The first word that came to mind was pretty. Draco sneered at the reflection. His eyes were now blue. Though his hair was still blond, it wasn't the pale he was used to. His lips were thick and full.
He flipped his hair. The fringe was very long and fell in front of his eyes every time he tilted his head. Draco lifted his hands and stared at them. They were very effeminate.
"You've turned me into a poof," he whispered contemptuously. He crossed his arms, and then turned his body left and right to get a better look at it. He snarled and tried to look vicious, but only managed to look cute.
He heard the distant sound of a door closing. Moments later, Harry's reflection appeared in the mirror. Harry stood with his arms crossed, and stared without a word, the expression in his eyes inscrutable. Draco spun around, ready to have it out with Potter, but stopped at the look in Potter's eyes.
"Ironic isn't it," Potter said, gaze travelling from Draco's face down to his chest. He smirked. "I've been assigned to find and apprehend..." Potter leaned in close until their noses were almost touching, "...you."
Draco's heart started to pound in his chest. There was no hiding his reaction to this revelation. Draco could see the delight in Potter's eyes. He leaned away from Potter who had Draco against the small sink, their bodies almost flush. He could smell alcohol on Potter's breath. He wanted nothing more than to be as far from Potter as possible. Instead of pushing past Potter and rushing from the flat, Draco lifted his chin defiantly.
"Did you want something in particular?" he asked in a belligerent tone. He gripped the sink behind him with one hand and clenched the other into a fist, ready to shove Potter away if necessary.
"It'll be at least another half hour before the Polyjuice wears off," Potter said as he moved in closer. Before Draco could push him away, Potter grabbed hold of his arm with one hand and wrapped his other arm round Draco's neck, pulling him closer. He pressed his lips to Draco's mouth, pushing his tongue in. Draco struggled hard, but couldn't break from Potter's very firm grip.
There was no getting free. The harder he struggled, the harder Potter pushed. Potter placed his lips to Draco's ear.
"Stay still," he whispered. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand up.
It was a losing battle. Eventually Draco stilled and lay beneath Potter, staring up at the ceiling. The day had exhausted him already. Draco could feel Potter's arousal hard against his thigh. He pressed his body against Potter while Potter stroked his head soothingly. Potter moaned and kissed Draco harder and then slipped a hand under Draco's t-shirt, pushing it up. He broke the kiss, barely giving Draco time to think as Potter yanked Draco's shirt up and off, tossed it over his shoulder, and then pushed Draco against the wall. The back of Draco's legs hit the edge of the bathtub and he almost fell back, but Potter prevented him from falling into the tub.
At first Draco thought the moment was broken, but it seemed that Potter had other ideas. He hooked a finger through a belt loop on Draco's jeans and pulled him all the way to the bedroom. The room was dark until Draco's eyes adjusted. Potter yanked the overlarge jeans down with a flourish and pushed Draco onto the bed. He threw his jeans aside, and before Draco could slide away, Potter fell on top of him, mashing their lips together. Potter squirmed and struggled with his own clothes, tossing them aside, barely breaking the kiss.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut tightly when a warm hand wrapped around his hardening cock. He pulled Potter in closer, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. Draco pressed his head against the mattress as Potter plunged his tongue deep into Draco's mouth and stroked him. It all happened so quickly. They were skin to skin. Potter now had them both in hand and the warmth and feel sent shudders of pleasure through Draco.
Potter pressed him against the bed, rubbing against him. Moans filled the darkened room. Then a sticky wetness splashed between them, and he could feel the pulse against his own cock when Potter climaxed. Draco rubbed against him in a frenzy to reach his own orgasm. Potter sped up his strokes, biting Draco's bottom lip. Moments later, Draco cried out as he pulsed into Potter's hand.
His skin started to tingle. At first he thought it was an after-effect of his orgasm, but then Draco realised that he was returning to normal. The potion had worn off.
"Get out," Potter muttered, rolling away from him. When Draco didn't move, Potter pushed at him, until he did get off the bed. Without a glance back, Draco slipped on his jeans and left the room.
He slammed the door of the toilet shut and leaned heavily on the sink. When he lifted his head up, his own face stared back at him. Gone were the startling blue eyes, and in their place, Draco's own grey, cold orbs stared.
"What are you staring at?" he snarled viciously. He wished at that moment that he could smash the mirror into a million tiny pieces. Draco was surprised when he looked down to see that his fist was poised to strike. He couldn't remember lifting his hand up.
tbc
Fandom: Harry Potter
Category: Dark Fiction
Rating: R
Series: Battlefields Series
Note: Thanks to marcasita and off_that_bridge for beta help. 2,260 words. All remaining blunders are mine.
Previous parts are Here or Here
Feedback: Yes please that would be very nice. I'd like to hear what you think.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Bless her.
Summary: Harry takes. Draco has no clue how to handle things.
He was sitting, staring out the small window, when Potter stomped into the flat, obviously on a mission. Draco jumped up and moved away from the window, afraid that perhaps he'd somehow angered Potter. But Potter barely noticed him as he marched straight into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
It had been three days since Potter had passed out in his room drunk. Draco had managed to stay out of Potter's way most times. Potter went back to barely speaking to him, and Draco liked it that way.
The only problem was boredom. It was mind-numbingly boring here, and Draco would rather be transfigured into a ferret again than ask anything of Potter.
A few hours later, Potter emerged with a determined expression on his face. Draco was sitting at the kitchen table when Potter set a small glass down in front of him.
"Drink this now," Potter ordered.
Draco glared up at him and then down at the dark liquid. It looked vile and disgusting. He leaned in close and sniffed, jerking his head back almost immediately. It smelled just as vile as it looked. He wanted to say no thank you. He wanted to say that he wasn't thirsty, but when he glanced up at Potter, the look in the other's eyes stopped him.
Potter pulled his wand out. "Either you drink that or I petrify you and stuff you in the broom cupboard," he said as he held his wand at the ready. "I'll toss my smelly laundry on top of you to hide your body."
Draco knew by the look in Potter's eyes that he wasn't joking. He picked up the glass and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to swallow the contents in one gulp. Draco gagged at the last gulp and dropped the glass.
"No need to worry. Hermione brewed it up," Potter said with a smirk. He picked up the now empty glass and tucked his wand away, then started to wash the glass. "Your name is Philip. You're living here with me until you can find a place of your own," Potter said as he dried the clean glass and set it back in the cupboard above the counter. Potter turned round to face Draco and pointed a finger at him.
"Polyjuice," Draco whispered as he looked down to see that his hands were already transforming. He slipped from his chair, knees banging against the floor. "Bastard," he muttered, as the burning sensation spread through his body. He curled into a ball and cringed. His insides lurched as though trying to burst free from his body.
"Oh, don't be such a child. It's perfectly safe and it'll all be over in just a moment," Potter scorned. He knelt over Draco's writhing form, a malicious grin on his face. "You call me Harry while..."
Potter started at the loud bang on the front door. Draco reached out to grab at Potter as he walked from the room. Potter stopped in his tracks and looked down at him.
"Be good and I'll let you go outside," Potter said, leaving Draco to twitch in agony on the kitchen floor. It was over soon enough. The sensations suddenly stopped and the feeling of being twisted into a million little knots was gone.
Draco could hear voices from the hallway. Potter was greeting someone and inviting them inside.
"This is it?" a familiar voice said.
Draco pushed himself back up to sit in the chair, clutching at his stomach. He held his hands up to see that they didn't look that much different than his own. He wanted a mirror to see what Potter had done to him, but the only shiny surface was the glass of the window. He turned to face it and could just make out that his hair was now shoulder length and blond. His t-shirt and jeans were now a bit too large.
Draco froze in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. They were coming into the kitchen.
It sounded like Weasley. "It looks rather small," Weasley said, "but cosy," Weasley added as Potter and he stepped into the small space. Draco couldn't move. He felt much too disoriented to do anything but sit and stare at somebody he'd never expected to see again.
There he stood. Ron Weasley. The last time Draco had seen Weasley had been on a bloodstained battlefield. Now he was just mere feet away from Draco, looking rather pleased. It took all Draco's willpower not to punch the smile from Weasley's face.
"Who's this?" Weasley asked. Potter grabbed Weasley by his arm and pulled him from the room.
"He's just my flatmate, Philip. I'm helping him out," Potter said as he tried to turn Weasley from the room, but he twisted from Potter's grip and leaned against the kitchen counter.
"Really? He the reason you've been so preoccupied?" Weasley stared down at Draco with curiosity. "Hullo, Philip." Weasley held his hand out for Draco to shake.
Draco wanted to laugh at how right Weasley actually was about what had been distracting Potter, but he kept his mouth shut and stared back at Weasley's beady little eyes. He didn't take the offered hand. An uncomfortable silence stretched on far too long.
"Not really," Potter said as he walked over and stood beside Draco. He nudged Draco in the head with his arm. "He's mute. Can't speak a word," Potter added.
"Ha, ha, very funny, Po--" Draco flinched at the kick to his shin. Potter had taken care to land his blow while Weasley was distracted by the still painting on the wall. No doubt the fact that it was not moving had caught his attention. "Harry," Draco corrected, saying the name as though he were spitting. "If I'd known you were going to have a guest, I would have dressed up."
Potter sneered and nudged him again until Draco almost fell out of the seat. "We'd like some privacy," Potter whispered. He leaned down, his eyes still focused on Weasley. "And don't try anything funny."
Draco stood up, his entire body stiff. He was sure that Weasley would somehow know it was him and not this person, Philip, whom Potter had created. Nobody said a word as he walked from the kitchen.
Draco sat down on the sofa. He didn't really have anyplace else to go, and he wasn't in the mood to sit in the toilet. He could still hear every word coming from the kitchen.
"He's not very friendly," he heard Weasley say.
"He's just tired," Potter replied. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed through the flat. Draco almost wished he'd chosen to be petrified, until Weasley spoke up again.
"Have you any leads yet on where Malfoy might be?" Draco stood at the mention of his name. The question was followed by a long silence. The shrill of a kettle whistling broke it. His heart sped up and his throat tightened. Why would Weasley be asking about him?
"I'd have told you if I had, wouldn't I?" Potter finally said, barely loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco stood and crept as quietly as he could so that he stood right against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen.
"No telling where he went. He's probably long gone by now," Weasley said. A spoon clattered. Draco strained to hear.
"It'd have to be that, or I'd have found him by now," Potter muttered. "Let's not talk about work."
Work? What did Potter mean by that?
Draco risked a peek into the room to find Potter and Weasley sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.
When neither of the two men on the other side of the wall spoke again, Draco slipped away just as silently and headed for the toilet. He pulled at his jeans as they slowly slipped down his waist and perched on his hips, threatening to slide down completely.
Draco flipped the light switch and stood staring at the stranger in the mirror. The first word that came to mind was pretty. Draco sneered at the reflection. His eyes were now blue. Though his hair was still blond, it wasn't the pale he was used to. His lips were thick and full.
He flipped his hair. The fringe was very long and fell in front of his eyes every time he tilted his head. Draco lifted his hands and stared at them. They were very effeminate.
"You've turned me into a poof," he whispered contemptuously. He crossed his arms, and then turned his body left and right to get a better look at it. He snarled and tried to look vicious, but only managed to look cute.
He heard the distant sound of a door closing. Moments later, Harry's reflection appeared in the mirror. Harry stood with his arms crossed, and stared without a word, the expression in his eyes inscrutable. Draco spun around, ready to have it out with Potter, but stopped at the look in Potter's eyes.
"Ironic isn't it," Potter said, gaze travelling from Draco's face down to his chest. He smirked. "I've been assigned to find and apprehend..." Potter leaned in close until their noses were almost touching, "...you."
Draco's heart started to pound in his chest. There was no hiding his reaction to this revelation. Draco could see the delight in Potter's eyes. He leaned away from Potter who had Draco against the small sink, their bodies almost flush. He could smell alcohol on Potter's breath. He wanted nothing more than to be as far from Potter as possible. Instead of pushing past Potter and rushing from the flat, Draco lifted his chin defiantly.
"Did you want something in particular?" he asked in a belligerent tone. He gripped the sink behind him with one hand and clenched the other into a fist, ready to shove Potter away if necessary.
"It'll be at least another half hour before the Polyjuice wears off," Potter said as he moved in closer. Before Draco could push him away, Potter grabbed hold of his arm with one hand and wrapped his other arm round Draco's neck, pulling him closer. He pressed his lips to Draco's mouth, pushing his tongue in. Draco struggled hard, but couldn't break from Potter's very firm grip.
There was no getting free. The harder he struggled, the harder Potter pushed. Potter placed his lips to Draco's ear.
"Stay still," he whispered. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand up.
It was a losing battle. Eventually Draco stilled and lay beneath Potter, staring up at the ceiling. The day had exhausted him already. Draco could feel Potter's arousal hard against his thigh. He pressed his body against Potter while Potter stroked his head soothingly. Potter moaned and kissed Draco harder and then slipped a hand under Draco's t-shirt, pushing it up. He broke the kiss, barely giving Draco time to think as Potter yanked Draco's shirt up and off, tossed it over his shoulder, and then pushed Draco against the wall. The back of Draco's legs hit the edge of the bathtub and he almost fell back, but Potter prevented him from falling into the tub.
At first Draco thought the moment was broken, but it seemed that Potter had other ideas. He hooked a finger through a belt loop on Draco's jeans and pulled him all the way to the bedroom. The room was dark until Draco's eyes adjusted. Potter yanked the overlarge jeans down with a flourish and pushed Draco onto the bed. He threw his jeans aside, and before Draco could slide away, Potter fell on top of him, mashing their lips together. Potter squirmed and struggled with his own clothes, tossing them aside, barely breaking the kiss.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut tightly when a warm hand wrapped around his hardening cock. He pulled Potter in closer, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. Draco pressed his head against the mattress as Potter plunged his tongue deep into Draco's mouth and stroked him. It all happened so quickly. They were skin to skin. Potter now had them both in hand and the warmth and feel sent shudders of pleasure through Draco.
Potter pressed him against the bed, rubbing against him. Moans filled the darkened room. Then a sticky wetness splashed between them, and he could feel the pulse against his own cock when Potter climaxed. Draco rubbed against him in a frenzy to reach his own orgasm. Potter sped up his strokes, biting Draco's bottom lip. Moments later, Draco cried out as he pulsed into Potter's hand.
His skin started to tingle. At first he thought it was an after-effect of his orgasm, but then Draco realised that he was returning to normal. The potion had worn off.
"Get out," Potter muttered, rolling away from him. When Draco didn't move, Potter pushed at him, until he did get off the bed. Without a glance back, Draco slipped on his jeans and left the room.
He slammed the door of the toilet shut and leaned heavily on the sink. When he lifted his head up, his own face stared back at him. Gone were the startling blue eyes, and in their place, Draco's own grey, cold orbs stared.
"What are you staring at?" he snarled viciously. He wished at that moment that he could smash the mirror into a million tiny pieces. Draco was surprised when he looked down to see that his fist was poised to strike. He couldn't remember lifting his hand up.
tbc