Letting Go: Chapter Eleven
Title: Letting Go
Chapter: Eleven - Intangible Distances, Invisible Truths
Authors: Vanilla Dear and Tangible Magic
Beta: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: Half-Blood Prince
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Dumbledore decides there must be a serious attempt at unifying Hogwarts' four Houses; chaos ensues.
Status: WIP
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations.
Categories: Humour, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, first time and romance.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Harry was walking fast, very fast, because he did that, sometimes, if there was something really important to do. But somehow no matter how fast he went Hermione and Ron kept ending up in front of him, and sure they were a little taller, but he was walking fast. His breath was coming out in harsh hard puffs, and surely, even if they were a bit taller - and Hermione wasn’t, much - well, surely he should be getting ahead. Neville pulled at his sleeve. ‘Harry. A bit slower, yeah? Ginny’s back there, I want her to be able to catch up.’
Harry turned his head. ‘What? Well, you can walk with her, if you want.’
‘Harry. Um, okay, I’m shit at this cloak-and-dagger stuff, apparently.’ Neville bit his lip and blew out a breath, and Harry didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.
‘Neville. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’
‘Um. Uh. Well, I think ‘Mione and Ron want to get in ahead of you, for some reason, and they usually do things for a reason, and I think the reason here is that you seem a bit funny, you know, a bit off-kilter, so they want to get in first to make sure you’re alright. Or something. And also you’re breathing sort of funny.’ He nodded sharply, wincing. ‘So a bit slower, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Harry, because he didn’t want to look like he was unreasonable, or anything, and, okay. It probably wouldn’t look that good if he ended up running into the party room, all tired and winded. Malfoy would probably take one look at him and think - something uncomplimentary.
It wasn’t long until they were near the party, even walking slow. Harry could only hear the hum of conversation when he was right next to the open door; there must a charm keeping sound muffled from outside so no professors would catch them.
He wanted to peek in, but what if Malfoy saw him peeking? Or someone else did, and told Malfoy about it? That would be horribly embarrassing. So he just walked in, without looking.
People were talking, laughing, shouting occasionally, but it just sounded like a night in the Common Room. He looked up. It was bright. People were all over the huge room, some in brightly coloured robes, some still in their school stuff.
And he suddenly felt more capable. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t any less nervous. Yet he knew. He would get through this. Both of them would. Harry didn’t know what he was going to do, but he was going to do it well.
Malfoy was going to be crawling before the evening was out.
He swallowed, clenched his fists, released them deliberately. Malfoy was not going to be crawling. Unless he wanted to, and then, by all means, he could crawl.
Because it wasn’t Malfoy’s fault.
A lot of things were Malfoy’s fault, though, because Harry’s delicious little Slytherin was trouble made flesh. But this wasn’t Malfoy’s fault. Harry just had to tell him the truth, somehow, maybe torture him a bit, and then they could get with the make-up sex.
Yeah.
Oh, God. No erection, no erection, stop it.
He looked around again, hoping that Malfoy was there, hoping that he wasn’t, and stopped. Started walking again. Tried not to stare.
Malfoy was in a corner, holding court with most of the older Slytherins surrounding him, as well as quite a few Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws. Harry’s lip curled as he saw Zacharias Smith lean forward to whisper something in Malfoy’s ear. Fucking fake cute yellow-haired upturned-nosed Hufflepuff bitch.
Harry searched frantically for something annoying to say so he’d have an excuse to go over there.
Malfoy tilted his head back, sniggering, and Harry swallowed hard. So fucking adorable. So fucking hot. He wanted to put him over his goddamned knee and smack him.
‘Oh, look, there’s Ginny,’ Neville said, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He leaned closer to his ear, and added in a whisper, ‘it’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it? You’re staring at him. It’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it?’
‘Huh?’ said Ron. ‘Wotcha whispering about?’
‘Zach Smith is Mystery Man, isn’t he?’ Neville whispered a bit louder. ‘I caught Harry staring at him.’
Harry looked at Ron, who was glaring over at Malfoy’s group of simpering sycophants. ‘Zach? You’re calling that shit-hole Zach now?’ Ron said.
Harry thought Ron’s loyal dislike of Zacharias Smith was very endearing.
‘That shit-hole is Harry’s Mystery Man, right? I have to start finding something to like about him. I think calling him Zach makes him sound less like a scum-sucking wart.’
‘That’s nice, Neville,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll keep in mind how accommodating you’re being; it really means a lot to me, you know? But Zacharias Smith isn’t Mystery Man. I was just staring at him because I was watching to see if he’d explode from his head swelling.’
‘Oh,’ said Neville. Harry turned his head to see that Ron and Neville were both glaring at Zacharias Smith, eyes intent.
Harry hid a grin. ‘What are you two doing?’
‘Dunno about Nev,’ said Ron, ‘but I was thinking he might explode quicker if I helped.’
Harry’s mouth quirked. ‘I don’t think it works like that, guys.’ Draco widened his eyes at something one of his goons said, turning his head and staring across the room at Harry.
Harry held his breath.
His white shirt was rumpled, tie half-undone, sleeves rucked up about his forearms, and a single lick of hair was standing almost straight up, shining whitely in the bright candlelight. Malfoy was always, always perfectly dressed. But now - right now he was dishevelled. His silver eyes had darkened to the deep wet grey of the sky in winter, just before the first snow set in. His mouth was prim and pink, and Harry was so glad he hadn’t kissed anyone since Harry had last seen him, because Harry didn’t want to have to hurt anyone if he could help it. And the thought of someone else touching what was his… he didn’t think he would have been able to help it. So it was very good that Draco was faithful. Even if he didn’t have any faith in Harry.
He couldn’t blame him, God, he couldn’t blame him, because three days ago they were enemies and Malfoy couldn’t trust that easily.
Malfoy was looking at…Harry’s shoes? Harry glanced downward. They didn’t look particularly noteworthy to him. He’d shined them up this afternoon, using up a bit of nervous energy, and they didn’t look that bad. Not as bad as they usually did, anyway. They almost looked presentable. He looked back at Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes were slowly travelling over Harry’s pants. Really, really slowly. He resisted the urge to shuffle. He was beginning to get thickly, pulse-poundingly erect, and he wasn’t exactly ashamed of it, because it was Malfoy who was making him like this, his Malfoy, but they were in public, and he didn’t think being hard as a rock was really going to help his case with Malfoy that he wasn’t a slut and hadn’t been fucking with Snape. Malfoy’s eyes lingered for one long moment on Harry’s shirt covered groin, and Harry gritted his teeth, feeling exposed even though across the room Malfoy wouldn’t be able to see anything through the dark cloth. Harry could tell Malfoy was mad at him. It was in the darkness of his eyes, the tightness of his pale pink mouth. It was there in his tense shoulders and slight wrinkling of his small pointed nose. But he still stared at Harry as if he couldn’t not look. His eyes travelled jerkily over Harry’s shirt. Hermione had made it dark blue, and it was pressed and neat, although he hadn’t tucked it in. It looked quite nice on him, he thought, but Malfoy was glaring at it like he wanted to rip it off. Harry made some small movement, trying not to gasp, trying not to run away, trying not to go to him, right here and now, and Malfoy’s eyes flew to Harry’s face.
Malfoy started to lick his lips, and stopped. He stared across the room at Harry very seriously for one moment, and then he looked away.
Harry - Harry needed a drink.
He made his way over to a table that was covered in bottles of wizarding alcohol and gleaming metal cups. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and the Patil sisters were all standing near it. Seamus’ eyes shone. He was standing between Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, and talking to Dean, and although he seemed very busy being congratulated for his efforts in hosting the party, he immediately stopped what he was saying when Harry came up.
‘-really, it wasn’t all that hard- Harry!’
‘Hello,’ said Harry cautiously.
‘What can I get you, Harry? FireWhisky, Butterbeer, Exploding Skrewt, Lemonsnap?’
‘Um,’ said Harry. He hadn’t ever tried half of those, and he didn’t quite trust Seamus. Seamus hadn’t always liked him. He might give Harry something really disgusting on purpose. And Exploding Skrewt sounded rather horrible. ‘How about Lemonsnap?’ he asked.
Seamus picked up a dusty, murky-looking old bottle with a scull-and-crossbones on it. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Straight up or daggered?’
Harry swallowed. ‘Straight up, thanks,’ he said faintly, watching as Seamus twisted the bottle open. It was smoking.
‘God!’ said Hermione, right behind him.
Harry blinked but didn’t turn around. Hermione sounded sort of… a bit mad.
‘What kind of a party is this?’ she demanded.
‘I beg ye pardon?’ said Seamus, looking shocked and aggravated.
‘We’re missing out on a homework night for this, Finnigan?’ she said shrilly.
‘I beg ye pardon?’ he repeated, blushing.
‘This party is dead,’ Hermione said. Harry turned his head to look at her. Her mouth was very determined. ‘Everyone is sitting in their own little corners, drinking and talking quietly, there’s no dancing, and where’s the music?’
‘Music?’ Seamus said weakly. ‘But Hermione, where was I supposed to get a band at such short notice?’
‘Honestly,’ said Hermione. She looked around. ‘Ginny!’
‘Mm?’ Ginny mumbled around a mouthful of Butterbeer. Harry was very grateful when he saw her swallow. She wasn’t as bad as Ron, but most of the Weasley children were a little… messy in the eating and drinking department.
Except for Percy, of course.
‘Do you remember that spell you learnt last year?’
‘What spell?’ she said.
‘You know, it made use of Abernathy’s First Theorem of Universal Instability, and also that fascinating section of Hogwarts: A History that deals with the treatment of innately Muggle artefacts in or around the grounds of Hogwarts and the various unique methods which have, over time-’
‘Oh,’ Ginny interrupted her, looking relieved. ‘You mean the music charm. Yeah, sure, what do you want? Rock, pop, punk, the Weird Sisters?’
Hermione winced. ‘No, not the Weird Sisters, please. I’ve rather gotten sick of them.’
Ginny shrugged, freckles twinkling. ‘Sure.’ She waved her wand and said something very incomprehensible. Loud, pumping music immediately flooded the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw people getting up to dance. Including that worm among wizards, Zacharias Smith. He said something to Malfoy, but Malfoy didn’t get up, and Harry felt his stomach clench with glee. He tried not to grin as he watched Smith ask a girl to dance instead.
He took an incautious sip of his Lemonsnap and stopped short, eyes wide as he felt thousands of tiny bubbles pinch at his tongue. He looked back at Seamus. ‘What is this stuff?’
‘Lemonsnap,’ Seamus said. He was looking at Hermione, brow wrinkled. ‘Don’t you think it was a bit mean, her saying that about my party?’
‘It is nicer having music,’ Dean said quietly.
‘Yeah, but…’
‘Is it poisonous?’ Harry asked, looking at his drink doubtfully. It was still smoking.
‘What, the Lemonsnap? Only a bit.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry. ‘Just a bit poisonous. That’s alright, then.’
He wandered off to one side, still half-watching Malfoy and trying to look like he wasn’t so he was a bit taken aback when someone walked into him. ‘Oh!’ they said.
Harry looked at whoever it was. It was Colin Creevey. ‘Hello, Colin.’
‘Hello, Harry.’ Colin grinned and held up his camera. ‘Can I take a picture? For my scrapbook?’
He winced. ‘Colin…’ he could never say no to a Creevey. ‘Sure, mate.’ He stood there woodenly as Colin took several pictures.
‘That’s a really nice shirt,’ Colin said cheerfully. ‘That deep blue colour looks really good on you.’
‘Thanks,’ Harry managed not to blush, just barely. It appeared that whatever weirdness the Creeveys had been operating under the last few days, Colin, at least, was back to normal. For Colin. Though… ‘Colin, you aren’t a sixth year.’
‘No, Harry, I’m not,’ Colin grinned happily, teeth shiny white and disturbingly shark-like.
‘Isn’t this party just for sixth years?’
‘Seamus gave me a special exemption because I take good pictures. He told me maybe I could start up a paper for Hogwarts students.’
‘Really,’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. Ginny wasn’t a sixth year either and she hadn’t mentioned anything about a ‘special exemption’. He suspected Seamus had only suggested the idea because he wanted Colin to take lots of pictures of the party and make everyone think that Seamus was just as good at parties as Fred and George.
Harry loved the twins. But their parties were always a bit perilous. You never knew when you’d be spitting out tripe.
‘Well-’ he began, and watched as Blaise Zabini ran in the door, slammed it shut, and leant against it, panting. ‘That’s interesting, Colin.’ Zabini slouched against the door for a moment, breaths forcing his chest out, eyes closed and throat working. Then he stood up properly, rolling his shoulders back and lowering one hand to touch his pocket. He walked across the room toward Malfoy, shoulders tense and steps jerky.
‘-on the perceptions of your public and whether that has any affect on your behaviour?’
‘Huh?’ said Harry, realising that Colin had been speaking.
‘I was just saying that I’d like to maybe do a few interviews with you, for the paper,’ Colin’s voice sounded almost… sly… but Harry didn’t pay much attention. Zabini was leaning over Malfoy and trying to give him a very small glass vial without anyone seeing.
Slytherins were so awful at being sneaky.
Except for Snape. Perhaps Slytherins became sneaky with practice. ‘Yeah, sure, Colin,’ Harry said vaguely. He took a sip of his Lemonsnap. It bit at his tongue, which was a bit painful. It didn’t taste very nice either.
‘Oh, wonderful!’ Colin said. ‘I’ll get some questions written down and talk to you when they’re all ready, alright? If you’re not busy then, of course.’
‘Sure,’ Harry murmured. He threw back the rest of his Lemonsnap. It twisted going down, pinching and twitching at the inside of his throat.
It had a sweet aftertaste, like lemon curd and metal.
Malfoy got up, saying something which made everyone around him laugh, giggles and snickers just audible over the loud, booming music.
He watched Malfoy neaten his shirt, slender fingers smoothing over white fabric, and when Harry got tired of that torture he went back over to the drinks table. Seamus and the others were gone; Harry supposed they were off dancing. He reached for the Lemonsnap, and then changed his mind, just standing there and feeling the liquor ease into his belly, warm and thick and mysterious.
‘Call your bitch off,’ Malfoy said behind him.
Harry swallowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’ his voice was hard, maybe a little angry. He wanted to turn around but he didn’t.
‘Your bitch. Fucking Weasley,’ Draco sounded slightly drunk. His voice was hoarse, the sharp edges smoothed over by alcohol or something else.
‘Which Weasley?’ Harry asked. He sounded calm. He sounded like he couldn’t care less. He was terrified.
‘Ron,’ Malfoy was sneering, Harry didn’t need to turn around to know that. ‘He’s been staring at me since he got in. Make him stop it, or he’ll give me freckles and then you’ll be sorry.’
Harry glanced across the room, neck tensing with the movement. Ron was glaring at Malfoy. He wanted to smile, but he didn’t. ‘Freckles aren’t catching, Malfoy,’ he said. He wanted to add that Malfoy would look really hot with freckles, because everything looked hot on Malfoy, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know what would set Malfoy off, make him go away, make him stop looking at Harry. He could feel his eyes on him, sharp and prickling and dear, which was why he didn’t look. If he looked at Malfoy, Malfoy might look away, and Harry would hate that. He tightened his jaw. ‘Ever had Exploding Skrewt?’ he asked, prodding a grey, misshapen bottle with one finger.
‘No,’ said Malfoy. ‘It sounds disgusting. You drink some.’
‘Alright,’ said Harry. He uncorked it and poured some into his cup. It smelled like dirt and damp cat. He wrinkled his nose.
‘How long have you been fucking Snape?’
Harry put down his cup and turned to look at him, because he really couldn’t help it. Couldn’t not look. Not after that question. Accusation. ‘Malfoy,’ he began. Draco looked bruised around the edges, damaged, hurt, and Harry wanted to kill the person who made him look like that, feel like that, but there wasn’t anyone to kill except maybe himself, which was sort of self-defeating, and besides, it wasn’t really Harry’s fault, and anyway, he was selfish enough, smart enough, not to hate himself just because he’d hurt Malfoy. Just because Malfoy had misunderstood, and God, he wanted to- his arms were aching from the tension. ‘Malfoy,’ he began again, ‘you’re a prat. And I haven’t been fucking Snape.’
He sneered, mouth going deep pink, nose tilted up. ‘How long are you going to keep saying that, Potter?’
‘As long as you ask me, Malfoy,’ he said, trying desperately to sound bored. Malfoy was standing so close, just a little apart from him, just a little away, and he smelt like heartbreak.
Harry could reach over and touch him if he was allowed to, but he wasn’t, and the Lemonsnap hadn’t been a good idea, because he’d never drank enough to be able to hold his liquor and now that sickly wizarding drink was whispering in his brain, coaxing, gently nudging at his thoughts, and oh, fucking hell, it would be so easy to touch him, to muss up that white shirt and put marks all over him and make him understand, but he wasn’t supposed to do that, wasn’t allowed to touch. Not without permission, God damn it.
‘You haven’t been fucking Snape,’ Malfoy said, voice quiet. Malfoy was never quiet. ‘Have you been fucking anyone else?’
‘No,’ said Harry. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever let touch me.’ He gave a twisted grin to the air, knowing that Malfoy didn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe him, because it just wasn’t in Malfoy’s nature.
He was a Slytherin. Slytherins didn’t trust, just like that.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, and his voice was dry. He came a little closer, nearer to the table. He picked up a metal cup and filled it to the brim with FireWhisky. Harry didn’t see the liquid fall into his own cup, but he did know that Malfoy had just spiked his drink with whatever had been in that little vial Zabini had given him. Malfoy took a quick sip of his FireWhisky, head still down, single imperfect slick of white-blonde hair sticking straight up like a feather.
Young Slytherins were really very bad at being sneaky.
Harry picked up his cup because he didn’t want to hang about; he wanted to find out what Malfoy was up to as soon as possible. He lifted the cup up to his lips, half full of Exploding Skrewt and a few drops of something extra, and he only had time to hope that it was Veritaserum and not poison.
Malfoy turned his head to look at him, and saw what he was doing, and opened his mouth, eyes wide, ‘Potter!’
‘What?’ said Harry. He’d already taken one small sip.
‘Um,’ said Malfoy, his eyes searching over Harry’s face. He bit his lip. ‘Nothing, Potter.’
‘Right,’ said Harry, and he drained the goblet of every last drop. It tasted horrible, and he had no idea whether it was the Exploding Skrewt or whatever Draco had added. He set the empty goblet back on the table, very carefully, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
Malfoy was still staring at him, and it was hot, and also alarmingly annoying, because he didn’t know if he was going to live or was about to die, and usually, in these kinds of situations, he was too busy fighting his potential murderer to notice if he was being stared at. ‘Malfoy,’ he said. ‘I really think I’ve been a good sport. I didn’t tell you I thought you were a silly arse for thinking I would ever want anyone else, and I didn’t run after you when you ran away, and I didn’t come and shag you as soon as I saw you, and I didn’t punch that fucking slag Zacharias Smith for daring to touch you, and I let you look at me like you wanted to fuck me without doing anything about it, and I didn’t lick you when you came over here, and I didn’t let on I knew you put that stuff Zabini gave you into my drink, and I drank it all up even though it might have been a poison that would make my insides fall out, and God, you’re so incredibly hot, even with your mouth hanging open like that, this afternoon I daydreamed about tying you up and covering you in treacle, partly so you couldn’t run away, but mostly really because I would think being covered in sticky syrup would make you pay attention and realise I’d never want anyone else, you prat, and also because I really like treacle. And I obsess about you all the time, damn it, sex just makes it worse, and by the way, how come no one ever told me I was gay, and I figure that was probably Veritaserum you put in my drink, wasn’t it?’
Malfoy’s throat worked. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought so, because I wouldn’t normally say such things, especially in public because people might hear and I know you don’t want anyone to know about us because they might tell your father and I’m his enemy so he wouldn’t approve very much and I hope that’s why you don’t want anyone to know and not because you’re ashamed of me because that would be really bad. And I don’t know what I’d do about that but I’d think of something because I’m always resourceful when I’m scared and you terrify me more than Voldemort because I can kill him but I have to live with you, need to live with you, which sounds a bit soppy but it’s really just mental because you’re so important to me and I don’t know how to control myself sometimes, I’ve only known I want you for the past few days because I’m obviously blind even with my stupid glasses, and I always used to try to ignore you, but now I know some parts of you and I can’t ever ignore you again. And I don’t want to because life is much more interesting with you in it but I really want to get you somewhere private so I can get you to take your trousers down and get you settled comfortably so I can spank you, damn it, and I know your arse would look so good all pink and feverish, and you would squirm and make those fucking hot whimpers you always give me when I’m touching you.’
‘Potter,’ Draco said hoarsely, eyes wide and shocked. ‘You can’t- you can’t spank me.’
Harry’s mouth moved, and he was vaguely aware that he was pouting. ‘Why not? Why not? It wouldn’t hurt much and it would be really hot, and then I’d have an excuse to lick your arse without it seeming weird, and besides, you deserve it.’
‘Potter,’ Draco repeated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. He glanced around and leaned slightly closer, cheeks delightfully pink, ‘you can’t say such things. You mustn’t.’
‘Hmm,’ said Harry. ‘I think you should have thought about this a little more before you got Zabini to steal Veritaserum from Snape. Your lack of foresight is almost Gryffindor-ish.’
‘Potter!’
‘You look scandalised. I like it. I like it better when you call me Harry, though.’
‘Harry! I do not, Potter! I’ve never- I don’t!’
He smiled slowly and looked his Malfoy up and down. He was practically quivering, blonde hair stark against his flushed skin, eyes dark and stunned and shiny. Almost-rumpled shirt. ‘Mm,’ he murmured, and licked his bottom lip, wanting to lick Malfoy’s… everything. ‘It only happened once when you were half-asleep,’ he assured him, although he didn’t sound very assuring, and Malfoy didn’t look assured - he looked fucking tasty, though. Panicky and dazed and Harry bet the head of his cock was damp already. He wanted to get down on his knees and lick it. But he was supposed to be talking, and he could hardly say that, Malfoy would probably faint. He thought it was kind of cool how he could pick what he was going to say, as long as it was the truth. Where was he- Ah. Malfoy calling him Harry. ‘It was nice,’ he told him. ‘Scary, though. I nearly castrated myself. You look so panicked right now. Like you’re going to faint or scream. I’d like to make you scream,’ he added, gently, persuasively, and took a step closer.
Malfoy looked around again, cheeks pink, mouth damp cherry. ‘Potter, you mustn’t say such things, people will hear, you arse, just stop it.’
‘I don’t think you get the point of Veritaserum, do you, my beautiful prat? It makes you tell the truth. I can’t help it, Malfoy, and I honestly don’t want to. I like it. I like watching you blush, all pink and sweet like a-’
‘Potter!’
‘Like a- like I don’t know what. Like you.’
‘Potter,’ Malfoy said again, and blushed.
‘I’m glad you gave me Veritaserum, because you wouldn’t believe me otherwise, would you? I’ve never shagged Snape, never really wanted to, and now you can actually believe it, because you know I can’t lie right now. I’m a little mad, because I can’t help being a little mad, it’s practically my favourite emotion. And when I’m mad I like to think about doing really dirty things to you, because that’s always nice-’
‘Potter!’ he inserted quickly. ‘Never really wanted to - never really wanted to shag Snape!?’
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed.
‘Explain yourself!’
‘Well, it may have crossed my mind once or twice or possibly three times, but you needn’t worry about it. I’ve thought about shagging lots of people.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Malfoy demanded, eyes darkening.
‘Girls, even, and Neville, and Ron, and practically every boy I’ve ever seen. I don’t actually want to shag anyone else, I just thought about it. Like Ron, I wondered why I wasn’t attracted to him because he’s nice and friendly and you’re not. Except when you are, and do you know how confusing that is?’
‘You thought about having sex with other people,’ Malfoy said, very slowly, mouth twisted.
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed happily.
‘You…’ Malfoy stared at him, ‘thought…’ he tightened his mouth, white bleeding into the pink for one slow moment, ‘about… touching other people. Letting them touch you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Run, Potter.’
‘What,’ said Harry. He added immediately, ‘I heard you, I just don’t believe you mean it. Well, I do, but I’m a Gryffindor, Malfoy, I don’t run away, I run to.’
‘Then run to somewhere private, Potter,’ Malfoy said very deliberately, ‘now.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry, ‘oh, are we going to have sex now? Alright. Or are you going to punch me? You look like you want to punch me or hex me or something.’ He turned around and started walking backwards. ‘We’re not going to have arse-sex now, are we?’
‘Potter?’ Malfoy looked hot. And confused. And a bit disgusted. And a lot hot.
‘Because I sort of quite like the idea of arse-fucking, really, secretly, but it’s very scary, and Ron said penetration is the only real sex, but I think he’s barmy, and we can wait for arse-sex, can’t we?’
‘Mm,’ agreed Malfoy, walking after him, Harry looking back every few seconds to make sure he didn’t walk into anyone. ‘And as to this buggery which may take place sometime in the future, who did you have in mind for the various positions?’
‘You and me!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I thought you understood that part!’
‘No, I mean,’ Malfoy looked very embarrassed. ‘Who would be where?’
Harry turned away to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into anyone, because he didn’t trust Malfoy to tell him. Then he opened the door and stumbled through it. ‘Who would be- Oh! You mean whose cock is going to go in whose arse!’
‘Well, obviously,’ said Malfoy.
‘I thought you would insist on having your cock in my arse, honestly,’ said Harry. ‘You’re so sure that you’re the man, which is just daft, because we are both men, or boys really technically, Malfoy, I mean, you do know that.’
Malfoy waved that aside. ‘I just wondered what you really think. Besides, I don’t know which I’d like better.’
‘Well, we can try it out when we’re ready and see, right?’
‘Oh,’ said Malfoy, eyes shining. ‘Alright.’
There was another door behind him, and Harry reached backwards for the knob, scrabbled for it, found it, and turned it with a rough twist. Malfoy didn’t wait for it to open properly, just pushed Harry through and scrambled in after him. There was no room, no space between them, and Harry liked it. A lot. ‘Potter,’ Malfoy muttered breathlessly, ‘you do know, with Veritaserum, you don’t actually have to tell me anything unless you’re answering a direct question. You do know that, don’t you? You could just keep your mouth shut if I didn’t ask anything.’
‘I don’t like keeping my mouth shut,’ Harry told him, licking wetly at his neck. ‘So fucking hot. Especially when talking makes you look like we’re already having sex when you’ve still got your clothes on. All sweaty, and pink-’
‘You make me sound like a pig,’ Malfoy gasped.
Harry snickered. ‘My pig. My prize pig.’ He clutched him close. ‘I like the way your sweat tastes.’
‘Malfoys don’t sweat,’ Malfoy informed him. ‘And- oh fuck, keep doing that.’
‘Holding you, or licking you, or-’
‘Well, I was really thinking about your rubbing against my cock, Potter,’ he breathed in sharply, ‘but by all means, keep- con- continue doing those other things too.’
‘Okay,’ said Harry, ‘I like watching you come. I don’t want anyone else to see you come. Ever, please.’
‘Alright,’ said Malfoy weakly. Harry pushed him back against the door, closing it, so they’d have something to keep them from falling down. He could feel Malfoy’s body all up and down his length, bones and muscles prodding at his, throbbing, just a bit, warm clean scent of boy-sweat-mine.
‘Sometimes,’ said Harry, ‘you make me so mad. No one else can make me as mad as you can,’ he rubbed, slowly, deliciously, up and down against him, and Malfoy was just as hard as he was.
‘It’s really kind of hot,’ he added.
‘Potter,’ Malfoy said, ‘you are clearly incredibly mental. Also, shut up.’ He whimpered slightly, and pressed harder against Harry, hips canting upward.
‘I don’t want to shut up,’ Harry said. ‘But if you really want me to I can.’
‘I-’ Malfoy swallowed hard. ‘Your shirt looks less manky than normal. Actually, all of your clothes do. Granger dress you?’
‘Yes,’ Harry said.
He looked him over, eyes fierce and hot. ‘She has passable tastes, the Weasley oaf notwithstanding.’
‘I’ll tell her you said so.’
‘Yes. Do.’ Malfoy leaned back as Harry licked his ear, and Malfoy shuddered, and pushed at Harry’s chest.
‘Oh, crap,’ said Harry. ‘You’re not going to be jealous of ‘Mione now, are you? Because really, I love her to pieces but I don’t want her in the least, and it’s really cute and sexy when you’re jealous, but it’s also unnecessary and right now I really want to get to the sex.’ Malfoy pushed at his chest again, and Harry moved backward. ‘Damn it,’ he muttered.
Malfoy pushed him again.
‘I’m moving as fast as I can!’ Harry told him.
‘Move. Faster,’ Malfoy instructed.
‘What the hell do you need so much room for?’
‘This,’ Malfoy said, and pounced.
Harry slammed backwards onto the ground, a little surprised to find Malfoy’s hands behind his head to keep him from cracking it. ‘That’s very thoughtful,’ he told him.
‘You are amazingly fucking soppy, Potter,’ Malfoy said, and laughed.
‘I am not,’ Harry said, and realised the Veritaserum must be wearing off.
‘It’s alright,’ Malfoy said slowly, hips and cock and ribs digging into his. ‘I quite like it.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry. He felt himself blushing.
He was staring up into Malfoy’s eyes and pretending to be paying no attention to the long slow jerks of Malfoy’s hips against his, cocks rubbing together lusciously and a bit painfully, so he had almost no awareness to spare for the muffled voices coming from somewhere outside.
‘-just a minute, Lav, I’ll just make sure there’s nobody in here before I let you in, wouldn’t want to-’ the door opened, and Harry certainly paid attention to that, because Malfoy immediately stopped mid-thrust.
‘Holy sweet Jesus,’ Seamus said, face white, staring from Malfoy to Harry and back again. He seemed particularly fascinated with the shape of Malfoy’s arse, and Harry glared as best as he could from his position on the floor. ‘Uh-’
‘What is it, Seamus,’ Lavender demanded, trying to look around Seamus’ shoulder.
Seamus blinked. ‘Um. Nothin’. Just, uh, some people doing what we were gonna do. Maybe we better go somewhere else.’ He stepped backwards, and shut the door firmly.
Malfoy collapsed onto Harry, shaking.
‘Malfoy?’ Harry said. ‘Malfoy, it’s alright, really, he won’t tell anyone.’
‘Tell anyone?’ Malfoy gasped, shuddered, and snickered out a laugh. ‘I’m just glad I was on top.’
Harry thumped him, because he really deserved it. But maybe the spanking could wait until later.
______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter: Eleven - Intangible Distances, Invisible Truths
Authors: Vanilla Dear and Tangible Magic
Beta: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: Half-Blood Prince
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Dumbledore decides there must be a serious attempt at unifying Hogwarts' four Houses; chaos ensues.
Status: WIP
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations.
Categories: Humour, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, first time and romance.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Harry was walking fast, very fast, because he did that, sometimes, if there was something really important to do. But somehow no matter how fast he went Hermione and Ron kept ending up in front of him, and sure they were a little taller, but he was walking fast. His breath was coming out in harsh hard puffs, and surely, even if they were a bit taller - and Hermione wasn’t, much - well, surely he should be getting ahead. Neville pulled at his sleeve. ‘Harry. A bit slower, yeah? Ginny’s back there, I want her to be able to catch up.’
Harry turned his head. ‘What? Well, you can walk with her, if you want.’
‘Harry. Um, okay, I’m shit at this cloak-and-dagger stuff, apparently.’ Neville bit his lip and blew out a breath, and Harry didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.
‘Neville. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’
‘Um. Uh. Well, I think ‘Mione and Ron want to get in ahead of you, for some reason, and they usually do things for a reason, and I think the reason here is that you seem a bit funny, you know, a bit off-kilter, so they want to get in first to make sure you’re alright. Or something. And also you’re breathing sort of funny.’ He nodded sharply, wincing. ‘So a bit slower, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Harry, because he didn’t want to look like he was unreasonable, or anything, and, okay. It probably wouldn’t look that good if he ended up running into the party room, all tired and winded. Malfoy would probably take one look at him and think - something uncomplimentary.
It wasn’t long until they were near the party, even walking slow. Harry could only hear the hum of conversation when he was right next to the open door; there must a charm keeping sound muffled from outside so no professors would catch them.
He wanted to peek in, but what if Malfoy saw him peeking? Or someone else did, and told Malfoy about it? That would be horribly embarrassing. So he just walked in, without looking.
People were talking, laughing, shouting occasionally, but it just sounded like a night in the Common Room. He looked up. It was bright. People were all over the huge room, some in brightly coloured robes, some still in their school stuff.
And he suddenly felt more capable. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t any less nervous. Yet he knew. He would get through this. Both of them would. Harry didn’t know what he was going to do, but he was going to do it well.
Malfoy was going to be crawling before the evening was out.
He swallowed, clenched his fists, released them deliberately. Malfoy was not going to be crawling. Unless he wanted to, and then, by all means, he could crawl.
Because it wasn’t Malfoy’s fault.
A lot of things were Malfoy’s fault, though, because Harry’s delicious little Slytherin was trouble made flesh. But this wasn’t Malfoy’s fault. Harry just had to tell him the truth, somehow, maybe torture him a bit, and then they could get with the make-up sex.
Yeah.
Oh, God. No erection, no erection, stop it.
He looked around again, hoping that Malfoy was there, hoping that he wasn’t, and stopped. Started walking again. Tried not to stare.
Malfoy was in a corner, holding court with most of the older Slytherins surrounding him, as well as quite a few Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws. Harry’s lip curled as he saw Zacharias Smith lean forward to whisper something in Malfoy’s ear. Fucking fake cute yellow-haired upturned-nosed Hufflepuff bitch.
Harry searched frantically for something annoying to say so he’d have an excuse to go over there.
Malfoy tilted his head back, sniggering, and Harry swallowed hard. So fucking adorable. So fucking hot. He wanted to put him over his goddamned knee and smack him.
‘Oh, look, there’s Ginny,’ Neville said, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He leaned closer to his ear, and added in a whisper, ‘it’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it? You’re staring at him. It’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it?’
‘Huh?’ said Ron. ‘Wotcha whispering about?’
‘Zach Smith is Mystery Man, isn’t he?’ Neville whispered a bit louder. ‘I caught Harry staring at him.’
Harry looked at Ron, who was glaring over at Malfoy’s group of simpering sycophants. ‘Zach? You’re calling that shit-hole Zach now?’ Ron said.
Harry thought Ron’s loyal dislike of Zacharias Smith was very endearing.
‘That shit-hole is Harry’s Mystery Man, right? I have to start finding something to like about him. I think calling him Zach makes him sound less like a scum-sucking wart.’
‘That’s nice, Neville,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll keep in mind how accommodating you’re being; it really means a lot to me, you know? But Zacharias Smith isn’t Mystery Man. I was just staring at him because I was watching to see if he’d explode from his head swelling.’
‘Oh,’ said Neville. Harry turned his head to see that Ron and Neville were both glaring at Zacharias Smith, eyes intent.
Harry hid a grin. ‘What are you two doing?’
‘Dunno about Nev,’ said Ron, ‘but I was thinking he might explode quicker if I helped.’
Harry’s mouth quirked. ‘I don’t think it works like that, guys.’ Draco widened his eyes at something one of his goons said, turning his head and staring across the room at Harry.
Harry held his breath.
His white shirt was rumpled, tie half-undone, sleeves rucked up about his forearms, and a single lick of hair was standing almost straight up, shining whitely in the bright candlelight. Malfoy was always, always perfectly dressed. But now - right now he was dishevelled. His silver eyes had darkened to the deep wet grey of the sky in winter, just before the first snow set in. His mouth was prim and pink, and Harry was so glad he hadn’t kissed anyone since Harry had last seen him, because Harry didn’t want to have to hurt anyone if he could help it. And the thought of someone else touching what was his… he didn’t think he would have been able to help it. So it was very good that Draco was faithful. Even if he didn’t have any faith in Harry.
He couldn’t blame him, God, he couldn’t blame him, because three days ago they were enemies and Malfoy couldn’t trust that easily.
Malfoy was looking at…Harry’s shoes? Harry glanced downward. They didn’t look particularly noteworthy to him. He’d shined them up this afternoon, using up a bit of nervous energy, and they didn’t look that bad. Not as bad as they usually did, anyway. They almost looked presentable. He looked back at Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes were slowly travelling over Harry’s pants. Really, really slowly. He resisted the urge to shuffle. He was beginning to get thickly, pulse-poundingly erect, and he wasn’t exactly ashamed of it, because it was Malfoy who was making him like this, his Malfoy, but they were in public, and he didn’t think being hard as a rock was really going to help his case with Malfoy that he wasn’t a slut and hadn’t been fucking with Snape. Malfoy’s eyes lingered for one long moment on Harry’s shirt covered groin, and Harry gritted his teeth, feeling exposed even though across the room Malfoy wouldn’t be able to see anything through the dark cloth. Harry could tell Malfoy was mad at him. It was in the darkness of his eyes, the tightness of his pale pink mouth. It was there in his tense shoulders and slight wrinkling of his small pointed nose. But he still stared at Harry as if he couldn’t not look. His eyes travelled jerkily over Harry’s shirt. Hermione had made it dark blue, and it was pressed and neat, although he hadn’t tucked it in. It looked quite nice on him, he thought, but Malfoy was glaring at it like he wanted to rip it off. Harry made some small movement, trying not to gasp, trying not to run away, trying not to go to him, right here and now, and Malfoy’s eyes flew to Harry’s face.
Malfoy started to lick his lips, and stopped. He stared across the room at Harry very seriously for one moment, and then he looked away.
Harry - Harry needed a drink.
He made his way over to a table that was covered in bottles of wizarding alcohol and gleaming metal cups. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and the Patil sisters were all standing near it. Seamus’ eyes shone. He was standing between Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, and talking to Dean, and although he seemed very busy being congratulated for his efforts in hosting the party, he immediately stopped what he was saying when Harry came up.
‘-really, it wasn’t all that hard- Harry!’
‘Hello,’ said Harry cautiously.
‘What can I get you, Harry? FireWhisky, Butterbeer, Exploding Skrewt, Lemonsnap?’
‘Um,’ said Harry. He hadn’t ever tried half of those, and he didn’t quite trust Seamus. Seamus hadn’t always liked him. He might give Harry something really disgusting on purpose. And Exploding Skrewt sounded rather horrible. ‘How about Lemonsnap?’ he asked.
Seamus picked up a dusty, murky-looking old bottle with a scull-and-crossbones on it. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Straight up or daggered?’
Harry swallowed. ‘Straight up, thanks,’ he said faintly, watching as Seamus twisted the bottle open. It was smoking.
‘God!’ said Hermione, right behind him.
Harry blinked but didn’t turn around. Hermione sounded sort of… a bit mad.
‘What kind of a party is this?’ she demanded.
‘I beg ye pardon?’ said Seamus, looking shocked and aggravated.
‘We’re missing out on a homework night for this, Finnigan?’ she said shrilly.
‘I beg ye pardon?’ he repeated, blushing.
‘This party is dead,’ Hermione said. Harry turned his head to look at her. Her mouth was very determined. ‘Everyone is sitting in their own little corners, drinking and talking quietly, there’s no dancing, and where’s the music?’
‘Music?’ Seamus said weakly. ‘But Hermione, where was I supposed to get a band at such short notice?’
‘Honestly,’ said Hermione. She looked around. ‘Ginny!’
‘Mm?’ Ginny mumbled around a mouthful of Butterbeer. Harry was very grateful when he saw her swallow. She wasn’t as bad as Ron, but most of the Weasley children were a little… messy in the eating and drinking department.
Except for Percy, of course.
‘Do you remember that spell you learnt last year?’
‘What spell?’ she said.
‘You know, it made use of Abernathy’s First Theorem of Universal Instability, and also that fascinating section of Hogwarts: A History that deals with the treatment of innately Muggle artefacts in or around the grounds of Hogwarts and the various unique methods which have, over time-’
‘Oh,’ Ginny interrupted her, looking relieved. ‘You mean the music charm. Yeah, sure, what do you want? Rock, pop, punk, the Weird Sisters?’
Hermione winced. ‘No, not the Weird Sisters, please. I’ve rather gotten sick of them.’
Ginny shrugged, freckles twinkling. ‘Sure.’ She waved her wand and said something very incomprehensible. Loud, pumping music immediately flooded the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw people getting up to dance. Including that worm among wizards, Zacharias Smith. He said something to Malfoy, but Malfoy didn’t get up, and Harry felt his stomach clench with glee. He tried not to grin as he watched Smith ask a girl to dance instead.
He took an incautious sip of his Lemonsnap and stopped short, eyes wide as he felt thousands of tiny bubbles pinch at his tongue. He looked back at Seamus. ‘What is this stuff?’
‘Lemonsnap,’ Seamus said. He was looking at Hermione, brow wrinkled. ‘Don’t you think it was a bit mean, her saying that about my party?’
‘It is nicer having music,’ Dean said quietly.
‘Yeah, but…’
‘Is it poisonous?’ Harry asked, looking at his drink doubtfully. It was still smoking.
‘What, the Lemonsnap? Only a bit.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry. ‘Just a bit poisonous. That’s alright, then.’
He wandered off to one side, still half-watching Malfoy and trying to look like he wasn’t so he was a bit taken aback when someone walked into him. ‘Oh!’ they said.
Harry looked at whoever it was. It was Colin Creevey. ‘Hello, Colin.’
‘Hello, Harry.’ Colin grinned and held up his camera. ‘Can I take a picture? For my scrapbook?’
He winced. ‘Colin…’ he could never say no to a Creevey. ‘Sure, mate.’ He stood there woodenly as Colin took several pictures.
‘That’s a really nice shirt,’ Colin said cheerfully. ‘That deep blue colour looks really good on you.’
‘Thanks,’ Harry managed not to blush, just barely. It appeared that whatever weirdness the Creeveys had been operating under the last few days, Colin, at least, was back to normal. For Colin. Though… ‘Colin, you aren’t a sixth year.’
‘No, Harry, I’m not,’ Colin grinned happily, teeth shiny white and disturbingly shark-like.
‘Isn’t this party just for sixth years?’
‘Seamus gave me a special exemption because I take good pictures. He told me maybe I could start up a paper for Hogwarts students.’
‘Really,’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. Ginny wasn’t a sixth year either and she hadn’t mentioned anything about a ‘special exemption’. He suspected Seamus had only suggested the idea because he wanted Colin to take lots of pictures of the party and make everyone think that Seamus was just as good at parties as Fred and George.
Harry loved the twins. But their parties were always a bit perilous. You never knew when you’d be spitting out tripe.
‘Well-’ he began, and watched as Blaise Zabini ran in the door, slammed it shut, and leant against it, panting. ‘That’s interesting, Colin.’ Zabini slouched against the door for a moment, breaths forcing his chest out, eyes closed and throat working. Then he stood up properly, rolling his shoulders back and lowering one hand to touch his pocket. He walked across the room toward Malfoy, shoulders tense and steps jerky.
‘-on the perceptions of your public and whether that has any affect on your behaviour?’
‘Huh?’ said Harry, realising that Colin had been speaking.
‘I was just saying that I’d like to maybe do a few interviews with you, for the paper,’ Colin’s voice sounded almost… sly… but Harry didn’t pay much attention. Zabini was leaning over Malfoy and trying to give him a very small glass vial without anyone seeing.
Slytherins were so awful at being sneaky.
Except for Snape. Perhaps Slytherins became sneaky with practice. ‘Yeah, sure, Colin,’ Harry said vaguely. He took a sip of his Lemonsnap. It bit at his tongue, which was a bit painful. It didn’t taste very nice either.
‘Oh, wonderful!’ Colin said. ‘I’ll get some questions written down and talk to you when they’re all ready, alright? If you’re not busy then, of course.’
‘Sure,’ Harry murmured. He threw back the rest of his Lemonsnap. It twisted going down, pinching and twitching at the inside of his throat.
It had a sweet aftertaste, like lemon curd and metal.
Malfoy got up, saying something which made everyone around him laugh, giggles and snickers just audible over the loud, booming music.
He watched Malfoy neaten his shirt, slender fingers smoothing over white fabric, and when Harry got tired of that torture he went back over to the drinks table. Seamus and the others were gone; Harry supposed they were off dancing. He reached for the Lemonsnap, and then changed his mind, just standing there and feeling the liquor ease into his belly, warm and thick and mysterious.
‘Call your bitch off,’ Malfoy said behind him.
Harry swallowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’ his voice was hard, maybe a little angry. He wanted to turn around but he didn’t.
‘Your bitch. Fucking Weasley,’ Draco sounded slightly drunk. His voice was hoarse, the sharp edges smoothed over by alcohol or something else.
‘Which Weasley?’ Harry asked. He sounded calm. He sounded like he couldn’t care less. He was terrified.
‘Ron,’ Malfoy was sneering, Harry didn’t need to turn around to know that. ‘He’s been staring at me since he got in. Make him stop it, or he’ll give me freckles and then you’ll be sorry.’
Harry glanced across the room, neck tensing with the movement. Ron was glaring at Malfoy. He wanted to smile, but he didn’t. ‘Freckles aren’t catching, Malfoy,’ he said. He wanted to add that Malfoy would look really hot with freckles, because everything looked hot on Malfoy, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know what would set Malfoy off, make him go away, make him stop looking at Harry. He could feel his eyes on him, sharp and prickling and dear, which was why he didn’t look. If he looked at Malfoy, Malfoy might look away, and Harry would hate that. He tightened his jaw. ‘Ever had Exploding Skrewt?’ he asked, prodding a grey, misshapen bottle with one finger.
‘No,’ said Malfoy. ‘It sounds disgusting. You drink some.’
‘Alright,’ said Harry. He uncorked it and poured some into his cup. It smelled like dirt and damp cat. He wrinkled his nose.
‘How long have you been fucking Snape?’
Harry put down his cup and turned to look at him, because he really couldn’t help it. Couldn’t not look. Not after that question. Accusation. ‘Malfoy,’ he began. Draco looked bruised around the edges, damaged, hurt, and Harry wanted to kill the person who made him look like that, feel like that, but there wasn’t anyone to kill except maybe himself, which was sort of self-defeating, and besides, it wasn’t really Harry’s fault, and anyway, he was selfish enough, smart enough, not to hate himself just because he’d hurt Malfoy. Just because Malfoy had misunderstood, and God, he wanted to- his arms were aching from the tension. ‘Malfoy,’ he began again, ‘you’re a prat. And I haven’t been fucking Snape.’
He sneered, mouth going deep pink, nose tilted up. ‘How long are you going to keep saying that, Potter?’
‘As long as you ask me, Malfoy,’ he said, trying desperately to sound bored. Malfoy was standing so close, just a little apart from him, just a little away, and he smelt like heartbreak.
Harry could reach over and touch him if he was allowed to, but he wasn’t, and the Lemonsnap hadn’t been a good idea, because he’d never drank enough to be able to hold his liquor and now that sickly wizarding drink was whispering in his brain, coaxing, gently nudging at his thoughts, and oh, fucking hell, it would be so easy to touch him, to muss up that white shirt and put marks all over him and make him understand, but he wasn’t supposed to do that, wasn’t allowed to touch. Not without permission, God damn it.
‘You haven’t been fucking Snape,’ Malfoy said, voice quiet. Malfoy was never quiet. ‘Have you been fucking anyone else?’
‘No,’ said Harry. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever let touch me.’ He gave a twisted grin to the air, knowing that Malfoy didn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe him, because it just wasn’t in Malfoy’s nature.
He was a Slytherin. Slytherins didn’t trust, just like that.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, and his voice was dry. He came a little closer, nearer to the table. He picked up a metal cup and filled it to the brim with FireWhisky. Harry didn’t see the liquid fall into his own cup, but he did know that Malfoy had just spiked his drink with whatever had been in that little vial Zabini had given him. Malfoy took a quick sip of his FireWhisky, head still down, single imperfect slick of white-blonde hair sticking straight up like a feather.
Young Slytherins were really very bad at being sneaky.
Harry picked up his cup because he didn’t want to hang about; he wanted to find out what Malfoy was up to as soon as possible. He lifted the cup up to his lips, half full of Exploding Skrewt and a few drops of something extra, and he only had time to hope that it was Veritaserum and not poison.
Malfoy turned his head to look at him, and saw what he was doing, and opened his mouth, eyes wide, ‘Potter!’
‘What?’ said Harry. He’d already taken one small sip.
‘Um,’ said Malfoy, his eyes searching over Harry’s face. He bit his lip. ‘Nothing, Potter.’
‘Right,’ said Harry, and he drained the goblet of every last drop. It tasted horrible, and he had no idea whether it was the Exploding Skrewt or whatever Draco had added. He set the empty goblet back on the table, very carefully, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
Malfoy was still staring at him, and it was hot, and also alarmingly annoying, because he didn’t know if he was going to live or was about to die, and usually, in these kinds of situations, he was too busy fighting his potential murderer to notice if he was being stared at. ‘Malfoy,’ he said. ‘I really think I’ve been a good sport. I didn’t tell you I thought you were a silly arse for thinking I would ever want anyone else, and I didn’t run after you when you ran away, and I didn’t come and shag you as soon as I saw you, and I didn’t punch that fucking slag Zacharias Smith for daring to touch you, and I let you look at me like you wanted to fuck me without doing anything about it, and I didn’t lick you when you came over here, and I didn’t let on I knew you put that stuff Zabini gave you into my drink, and I drank it all up even though it might have been a poison that would make my insides fall out, and God, you’re so incredibly hot, even with your mouth hanging open like that, this afternoon I daydreamed about tying you up and covering you in treacle, partly so you couldn’t run away, but mostly really because I would think being covered in sticky syrup would make you pay attention and realise I’d never want anyone else, you prat, and also because I really like treacle. And I obsess about you all the time, damn it, sex just makes it worse, and by the way, how come no one ever told me I was gay, and I figure that was probably Veritaserum you put in my drink, wasn’t it?’
Malfoy’s throat worked. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought so, because I wouldn’t normally say such things, especially in public because people might hear and I know you don’t want anyone to know about us because they might tell your father and I’m his enemy so he wouldn’t approve very much and I hope that’s why you don’t want anyone to know and not because you’re ashamed of me because that would be really bad. And I don’t know what I’d do about that but I’d think of something because I’m always resourceful when I’m scared and you terrify me more than Voldemort because I can kill him but I have to live with you, need to live with you, which sounds a bit soppy but it’s really just mental because you’re so important to me and I don’t know how to control myself sometimes, I’ve only known I want you for the past few days because I’m obviously blind even with my stupid glasses, and I always used to try to ignore you, but now I know some parts of you and I can’t ever ignore you again. And I don’t want to because life is much more interesting with you in it but I really want to get you somewhere private so I can get you to take your trousers down and get you settled comfortably so I can spank you, damn it, and I know your arse would look so good all pink and feverish, and you would squirm and make those fucking hot whimpers you always give me when I’m touching you.’
‘Potter,’ Draco said hoarsely, eyes wide and shocked. ‘You can’t- you can’t spank me.’
Harry’s mouth moved, and he was vaguely aware that he was pouting. ‘Why not? Why not? It wouldn’t hurt much and it would be really hot, and then I’d have an excuse to lick your arse without it seeming weird, and besides, you deserve it.’
‘Potter,’ Draco repeated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. He glanced around and leaned slightly closer, cheeks delightfully pink, ‘you can’t say such things. You mustn’t.’
‘Hmm,’ said Harry. ‘I think you should have thought about this a little more before you got Zabini to steal Veritaserum from Snape. Your lack of foresight is almost Gryffindor-ish.’
‘Potter!’
‘You look scandalised. I like it. I like it better when you call me Harry, though.’
‘Harry! I do not, Potter! I’ve never- I don’t!’
He smiled slowly and looked his Malfoy up and down. He was practically quivering, blonde hair stark against his flushed skin, eyes dark and stunned and shiny. Almost-rumpled shirt. ‘Mm,’ he murmured, and licked his bottom lip, wanting to lick Malfoy’s… everything. ‘It only happened once when you were half-asleep,’ he assured him, although he didn’t sound very assuring, and Malfoy didn’t look assured - he looked fucking tasty, though. Panicky and dazed and Harry bet the head of his cock was damp already. He wanted to get down on his knees and lick it. But he was supposed to be talking, and he could hardly say that, Malfoy would probably faint. He thought it was kind of cool how he could pick what he was going to say, as long as it was the truth. Where was he- Ah. Malfoy calling him Harry. ‘It was nice,’ he told him. ‘Scary, though. I nearly castrated myself. You look so panicked right now. Like you’re going to faint or scream. I’d like to make you scream,’ he added, gently, persuasively, and took a step closer.
Malfoy looked around again, cheeks pink, mouth damp cherry. ‘Potter, you mustn’t say such things, people will hear, you arse, just stop it.’
‘I don’t think you get the point of Veritaserum, do you, my beautiful prat? It makes you tell the truth. I can’t help it, Malfoy, and I honestly don’t want to. I like it. I like watching you blush, all pink and sweet like a-’
‘Potter!’
‘Like a- like I don’t know what. Like you.’
‘Potter,’ Malfoy said again, and blushed.
‘I’m glad you gave me Veritaserum, because you wouldn’t believe me otherwise, would you? I’ve never shagged Snape, never really wanted to, and now you can actually believe it, because you know I can’t lie right now. I’m a little mad, because I can’t help being a little mad, it’s practically my favourite emotion. And when I’m mad I like to think about doing really dirty things to you, because that’s always nice-’
‘Potter!’ he inserted quickly. ‘Never really wanted to - never really wanted to shag Snape!?’
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed.
‘Explain yourself!’
‘Well, it may have crossed my mind once or twice or possibly three times, but you needn’t worry about it. I’ve thought about shagging lots of people.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Malfoy demanded, eyes darkening.
‘Girls, even, and Neville, and Ron, and practically every boy I’ve ever seen. I don’t actually want to shag anyone else, I just thought about it. Like Ron, I wondered why I wasn’t attracted to him because he’s nice and friendly and you’re not. Except when you are, and do you know how confusing that is?’
‘You thought about having sex with other people,’ Malfoy said, very slowly, mouth twisted.
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed happily.
‘You…’ Malfoy stared at him, ‘thought…’ he tightened his mouth, white bleeding into the pink for one slow moment, ‘about… touching other people. Letting them touch you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Run, Potter.’
‘What,’ said Harry. He added immediately, ‘I heard you, I just don’t believe you mean it. Well, I do, but I’m a Gryffindor, Malfoy, I don’t run away, I run to.’
‘Then run to somewhere private, Potter,’ Malfoy said very deliberately, ‘now.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry, ‘oh, are we going to have sex now? Alright. Or are you going to punch me? You look like you want to punch me or hex me or something.’ He turned around and started walking backwards. ‘We’re not going to have arse-sex now, are we?’
‘Potter?’ Malfoy looked hot. And confused. And a bit disgusted. And a lot hot.
‘Because I sort of quite like the idea of arse-fucking, really, secretly, but it’s very scary, and Ron said penetration is the only real sex, but I think he’s barmy, and we can wait for arse-sex, can’t we?’
‘Mm,’ agreed Malfoy, walking after him, Harry looking back every few seconds to make sure he didn’t walk into anyone. ‘And as to this buggery which may take place sometime in the future, who did you have in mind for the various positions?’
‘You and me!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I thought you understood that part!’
‘No, I mean,’ Malfoy looked very embarrassed. ‘Who would be where?’
Harry turned away to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into anyone, because he didn’t trust Malfoy to tell him. Then he opened the door and stumbled through it. ‘Who would be- Oh! You mean whose cock is going to go in whose arse!’
‘Well, obviously,’ said Malfoy.
‘I thought you would insist on having your cock in my arse, honestly,’ said Harry. ‘You’re so sure that you’re the man, which is just daft, because we are both men, or boys really technically, Malfoy, I mean, you do know that.’
Malfoy waved that aside. ‘I just wondered what you really think. Besides, I don’t know which I’d like better.’
‘Well, we can try it out when we’re ready and see, right?’
‘Oh,’ said Malfoy, eyes shining. ‘Alright.’
There was another door behind him, and Harry reached backwards for the knob, scrabbled for it, found it, and turned it with a rough twist. Malfoy didn’t wait for it to open properly, just pushed Harry through and scrambled in after him. There was no room, no space between them, and Harry liked it. A lot. ‘Potter,’ Malfoy muttered breathlessly, ‘you do know, with Veritaserum, you don’t actually have to tell me anything unless you’re answering a direct question. You do know that, don’t you? You could just keep your mouth shut if I didn’t ask anything.’
‘I don’t like keeping my mouth shut,’ Harry told him, licking wetly at his neck. ‘So fucking hot. Especially when talking makes you look like we’re already having sex when you’ve still got your clothes on. All sweaty, and pink-’
‘You make me sound like a pig,’ Malfoy gasped.
Harry snickered. ‘My pig. My prize pig.’ He clutched him close. ‘I like the way your sweat tastes.’
‘Malfoys don’t sweat,’ Malfoy informed him. ‘And- oh fuck, keep doing that.’
‘Holding you, or licking you, or-’
‘Well, I was really thinking about your rubbing against my cock, Potter,’ he breathed in sharply, ‘but by all means, keep- con- continue doing those other things too.’
‘Okay,’ said Harry, ‘I like watching you come. I don’t want anyone else to see you come. Ever, please.’
‘Alright,’ said Malfoy weakly. Harry pushed him back against the door, closing it, so they’d have something to keep them from falling down. He could feel Malfoy’s body all up and down his length, bones and muscles prodding at his, throbbing, just a bit, warm clean scent of boy-sweat-mine.
‘Sometimes,’ said Harry, ‘you make me so mad. No one else can make me as mad as you can,’ he rubbed, slowly, deliciously, up and down against him, and Malfoy was just as hard as he was.
‘It’s really kind of hot,’ he added.
‘Potter,’ Malfoy said, ‘you are clearly incredibly mental. Also, shut up.’ He whimpered slightly, and pressed harder against Harry, hips canting upward.
‘I don’t want to shut up,’ Harry said. ‘But if you really want me to I can.’
‘I-’ Malfoy swallowed hard. ‘Your shirt looks less manky than normal. Actually, all of your clothes do. Granger dress you?’
‘Yes,’ Harry said.
He looked him over, eyes fierce and hot. ‘She has passable tastes, the Weasley oaf notwithstanding.’
‘I’ll tell her you said so.’
‘Yes. Do.’ Malfoy leaned back as Harry licked his ear, and Malfoy shuddered, and pushed at Harry’s chest.
‘Oh, crap,’ said Harry. ‘You’re not going to be jealous of ‘Mione now, are you? Because really, I love her to pieces but I don’t want her in the least, and it’s really cute and sexy when you’re jealous, but it’s also unnecessary and right now I really want to get to the sex.’ Malfoy pushed at his chest again, and Harry moved backward. ‘Damn it,’ he muttered.
Malfoy pushed him again.
‘I’m moving as fast as I can!’ Harry told him.
‘Move. Faster,’ Malfoy instructed.
‘What the hell do you need so much room for?’
‘This,’ Malfoy said, and pounced.
Harry slammed backwards onto the ground, a little surprised to find Malfoy’s hands behind his head to keep him from cracking it. ‘That’s very thoughtful,’ he told him.
‘You are amazingly fucking soppy, Potter,’ Malfoy said, and laughed.
‘I am not,’ Harry said, and realised the Veritaserum must be wearing off.
‘It’s alright,’ Malfoy said slowly, hips and cock and ribs digging into his. ‘I quite like it.’
‘Oh,’ said Harry. He felt himself blushing.
He was staring up into Malfoy’s eyes and pretending to be paying no attention to the long slow jerks of Malfoy’s hips against his, cocks rubbing together lusciously and a bit painfully, so he had almost no awareness to spare for the muffled voices coming from somewhere outside.
‘-just a minute, Lav, I’ll just make sure there’s nobody in here before I let you in, wouldn’t want to-’ the door opened, and Harry certainly paid attention to that, because Malfoy immediately stopped mid-thrust.
‘Holy sweet Jesus,’ Seamus said, face white, staring from Malfoy to Harry and back again. He seemed particularly fascinated with the shape of Malfoy’s arse, and Harry glared as best as he could from his position on the floor. ‘Uh-’
‘What is it, Seamus,’ Lavender demanded, trying to look around Seamus’ shoulder.
Seamus blinked. ‘Um. Nothin’. Just, uh, some people doing what we were gonna do. Maybe we better go somewhere else.’ He stepped backwards, and shut the door firmly.
Malfoy collapsed onto Harry, shaking.
‘Malfoy?’ Harry said. ‘Malfoy, it’s alright, really, he won’t tell anyone.’
‘Tell anyone?’ Malfoy gasped, shuddered, and snickered out a laugh. ‘I’m just glad I was on top.’
Harry thumped him, because he really deserved it. But maybe the spanking could wait until later.
______________________________________________________________________________