Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,801
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: My dearest readers, I can only apologize for the wait you have been made to endure! I will be getting my new computer (since my old one cannot be fixed!) within the next week, and then the story shall officially start up again! I felt horrible, so I rewrote the beginning of this chapter and finished it up on this shitty excuse for a broken laptop I have at the moment. I hope the foreshadow of angst-to-be will make up for the gap between chapters. I know a lot of you have been wondering when there would be an explosion, and, well, I think we're nearly there.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Twenty-Two
If Harry had known what a catalyst it would be, perhaps he never would have done it.
Perhaps he would not have even gotten out of bed that day.
But, as it were, life is cruel, and he could not have known the catastrophic effects which would follow something so wonderful.
Indeed, he would have no way of knowing until the following day.
* * *
He could have taken the weather as a bad omen when he woke up that morning, but ever since that talk he’d had with Draco in the Great Hall, he’d not looked at things with a fatalistic point of view. Instead, he smiled at the rain pounding on the window of his dorm, enjoying the sound of it.
He knew he should be attempting to work out what to do regarding the situation with Draco and Anthony, but his spirits were lifted after having at least made up with Draco last night. And he couldn’t seem to stop smiling whenever he thought of that ketchup stain on Draco’s shirt. He wondered how something so strange could be so bloody adorable.
Even the sight of Ron and Hermione sitting together at breakfast couldn’t wholly dampen his spirits. He sat down by himself and pulled a plate of sausages over, smiling to himself every once in a while at the thought of Draco. He must have looked spectacularly odd to anyone watching.
It was as though the world was deliberately trying to put him at ease this morning: halfway through his second sausage he looked up and saw Draco walk into the Great Hall. He watched him as he sat down at the Slytherin table next to Pansy, spread marmalade on a piece of toast, and, as though his anorexia had never been, took a large bite. Harry saw Pansy watching him with a wide smile as well. He longed to go over there and sit beside him, to smile with him and laugh with him and enjoy the happy atmosphere this morning, but he did not, if only because he was well aware of the way in which the rest of the Great Hall would react, and he was not willing to damage his (or Draco’s) good mood.
He looked back down at his food and smiled again, remembering last night, remembering so many nights from the past few months. Draco’s shy smile when Harry flirted with him; Draco’s lovely pale skin beneath his fingers; Draco’s perfect arse and the way it felt to slide into him, to be connected in that way; Draco’s hips, and his hip bones; Draco’s hair; Draco’s laugh; Draco’s ketchup stain on his shirt.
Draco, and everything that noun encompassed.
Harry was still smiling as he walked to his first class.
* * *
The feeling of elation did not diminish after Charms, though Harry certainly felt as though Professor Flitwick was trying his hardest considering the agonizing monotony of his lecture.
As everyone exited the classroom Harry caught up to Draco and Pansy, who were walking side by side, and squeezed between them, taking their arms in his.
“I learned a lot today,” he said, smiling devilishly at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes.
“I should hope so,” he said, “because as an Auror, I’m certain the theory of levitation will be useful.”
Harry snorted. “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Draco.” He was pleased to see Draco blush. Beside him, Pansy giggled. “As an Auror, levitation itself may certainly come in handy. The theory, however, will be of no use to me when I’m operating on pure instinct, fighting for my life and the survival of hostages!”
“You’re lucky you defeated a Dark Lord,” Draco said. “Because if you hadn’t, I would be so embarrassed for you right now that I might be inclined to walk away.”
Harry smiled cheekily. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I did defeat a Dark Lord, hm?”
Draco looked over at him and in his eyes Harry saw lust. Pure, unadulterated lust. And though they were in the middle of a hallway filled with students, Harry felt blood begin to rush south as images of their time in the locker room chased themselves through his mind.
Pansy, for her part, while not the brightest, must have seen something, because she mumbled something about wanting to speak to a professor before the next class started. Harry didn’t pay much attention. The warm glow that had surrounded him since this morning burned red. He looked around only briefly before grabbing Draco’s hand and pulling him to the end of the corridor where he knew of an alcove which housed a brilliant window that contained an outcrop wide enough to sit on, and, most importantly, drapes.
Fairly certain that no one was watching, he shoved Draco behind the drapes and crawled on top of him. He’d had an idea that Draco might resist, might insist on getting to class, but to his delighted surprise Draco tangled his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled him down into a rough kiss.
“So fucking hot,” Draco whispered between frenzied kisses. Harry moved down to bite his neck, all at once determined to leave a mark. He didn’t know where this suddenly ravenous hunger had come from, only that it was incredibly intense. “Turns me on . . . so much.” Harry ground down, dragging their erections together, and delighted in Draco’s quiet moan.
Before he could finish with what was promising to be a very large hickey, Draco grabbed his face and forced Harry to look at him. He devoured Harry with his eyes.
“What?” Harry teased, continuing the rocking motion with his hips. Slowly. So slowly. Drawing it out, watching Draco squirm. “Turns you on that I defeated a Dark Lord?” Harry never would have imagined himself saying something like that - something so egotistical and obnoxious. But the way Draco arched up into him and dug his fingers into Harry’s cheeks made him think he would say just about anything if it elicited this kind of reaction. He thought about that night in the Great Hall - Draco’s kink - and felt his cock swell further. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”
Draco opened his mouth and for a moment Harry thought he might scream right here in the middle of the hallway. But he didn’t; his mouth merely fell open and his eyes closed, as though he was screaming and someone had simply turned off the volume.
Harry bent forward, so his lips were near Draco’s ear. “Tell me.”
Draco gripped Harry’s arms, like pillars on either side of Draco’s face, and at the same time wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist.
“When you killed him,” Draco gasped, thrusting up into Harry so hard that it was a wonder he had any breath at all. “So fucking powerful, Harry. You don’t even realize.”
Later, he would be a bit embarrassed by his own response, but the way he reacted to Draco stroking his ego was incredible. He buried his face in Draco’s neck and growled. Meanwhile, the friction between their bodies (specifically the rub of Harry’s jeans against Draco’s trousers), might have lit them both on fire had Harry’s words not caused Draco to lose his mind in the next few minutes.
“Then tell me, baby.”
“People are scared of you,” Draco whispered, his eyes wide, staring, mesmerized, into Harry’s. “Fuck, people are scared of you.”
“Mm, and does that turn you on, Draco? Does it turn you on that grown wizards are scared of me because I defeated Voldemort?” Draco’s reaction to hearing Harry say that name was astounding: he whined high up in his throat and clutched Harry’s arms more tightly. “Does it make you hard when you think about it? When you remember watching it happen?”
Harry lowered his voice so it was no more than a gravelly whisper. “Were you this hard when it happened? How much did it turn you on when I spoke about you before I killed him? When I told everyone watching how I’d overpowered you and taken your wand.”
“Harry!” Draco gasped, and his hands returned to Harry’s cheeks, where they dug in painfully. “Harry, fuck me, please.”
Without another word Harry dragged Draco’s trousers down until his arse was bared, unbuttoned his own jeans, pulled his cock out, and wasted no time in sucking on two fingers and shoving them unceremoniously into Draco’s arse.
Draco muffled his shout in Harry’s shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around Harry’s neck and Harry could feel Draco trembling from the effort.
“You could come just like this, couldn’t you?” Harry taunted, slamming his fingers into Draco and ripping them back out, only to repeat the process. Somewhere in the back of his mind he stored this information: he probably could make Draco come this way. Apparently he not only had a kink for being called baby, but for being fingered, as well.
“Harry, please,” Draco whimpered. “Fuck me.”
He needed nothing more than that. He ripped Draco trousers the rest of the way off, not bothering to pull his own down even below his arse. His cock was out and that was enough. He quickly covered himself with spit and lined up with Draco’s entrance.
“Don’t waste time,” Draco breathed. He pushed down, trying to get Harry inside. “Just fuck me. Hard. Fast. Now. It’s almost break.”
Well, if that was what he wanted . . .
Harry shoved his cock into Draco’s willing body, nearly all the way to the root in one go. To stifle his cry, Draco bit Harry’s shoulder where his robe had slipped. Harry was taken by surprise and he yelped. He could feel the warmth of blood trickling down his skin, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not when Draco was begging to be pounded.
Draco held on to Harry’s neck as his insides were battered and his arse was dragged back and forth along the rough stone of the ledge on which they were fucking. Harry imagined Draco in the Great Hall, watching with everyone else when he’d killed Tom Riddle. Imagined Draco getting hard and picturing Harry fucking him. He knew, in his rational mind, that Draco’s thoughts had been far from there when it had really been happening, but that didn’t mean looking back on it didn’t turn him on. Indeed, Draco had just admitted to it, and the thought made Harry feel hot.
Sweat poured from him in copious amounts. His stomach was tensed and aching and his legs burned, but he thrust harder, needing right now to fuck, hard and dirty.
And that was what he did - he had no idea how long they were there, their bodies moving together, their harsh breathing filling the little alcove and bouncing it back at them. He'd stop and tease Draco, and then he'd go back to his rough treatment, all the while forcing himself not to climax, to make this last. He wouldn't allow Draco to touch his own cock.
It was when a bell rang and classroom doors were flung open, releasing students into the corridors for a short break before they had to go back to lectures and potions and complicated wand movements, that Harry realized they'd been back there for over forty-five minutes.
Harry’s eyes flew open at the same time that Draco tightened his hold around Harry’s neck, his eyes remaining shut.
“Don’t stop,” Draco rasped, rocking his body harder now, trying desperately to finish. “I won’t scream, I promise, just don’t stop.”
Fortunately (and strangely, as Harry thought about it later), the sounds of students so close by, separated by only a few feet of alcove and a heavy drape, excited Harry further. Was it possible for him to be harder than he’d been before? Perhaps. Either way, he found himself slamming mercilessly into Draco's arse with the last of his energy, thanking Merlin that he hadn’t removed his jeans and thus prevented the sound of slapping skin.
“Are you gonna come?” he growled. Draco whimpered. His heels dug into Harry’s back and he bit Harry’s shoulder again. Harry just managed not to cry out in pain as Draco’s teeth sunk into the raw wounds from before. He did, however, pound into Draco so roughly on that stroke that Draco’s head nearly hit the wall behind him.
Harry was so close. He could feel his climax building up like a wild river behind a dam.
“Are you gonna scream?” he taunted, knowing he shouldn’t provoke Draco, but unable to help himself. “Let all those students know that you’re being fucked by Harry Potter back here? That you’re gonna come without me touching your cock?”
Again, Draco sunk his teeth into a spot close enough to the original bite mark on Harry’s shoulder that a few teeth punctured still-bleeding marks. This time, however, he felt Draco tense up and, just as he’d said, felt Draco reach his orgasm without having had his cock stimulated. This knowledge combined with the feeling of Draco’s arse clenching around him sent Harry over the edge as well. Draco leaned up to capture Harry’s mouth in a bruising kiss, effectively muffling his shout of release.
And Harry could have no idea of the girl hidden halfway down the corridor, waiting impatiently for them to finish.
* * *
It was during her five minute break from Potions that Ginny heard Harry shout. She’d been leaning against the wall, talking to a classmate, when the sound had come from somewhere to her right. She’d known almost immediately to whom the voice belonged - after all, while they hadn’t done much, they’d done something, and Ginny remembered what Harry sounded like when he moaned.
No one else appeared to have heard it. Curious, she’d told her friend she’d get to class in a moment when the bell rang to signal the end of the break. As soon as the hallway had cleared out she’d stopped breathing for a moment, listening to any further noise. Had she imagined it?
As if in answer to the thought, another sound made itself known. This one was much quieter - just a sigh. It had come from the alcove nearby. Her eyebrows dipped and she crept closer, peeking around the wall and watching the drapes that obscured a large window flutter. There were small sounds coming from the other side, that of heavy breathing and quiet shuffling.
Ginny’s stomach clenched. It was painfully obvious that there were two people behind those drapes, and that those two people had just gotten done doing something definitely illicit. Ordinarily, Ginny would have shrugged and gone back to class, not one to make trouble for anyone who felt like being intimate semi-publicly. She’d always been very liberal about that.
But she’d heard Harry. She had no doubt. And this close, she could smell him, too. The scent of sex, sweat, and, very faintly, the same thing she’d smelled when she’d been sexual with Harry. His unique brand of sexual exertion.
It could have been Anthony.
But it wasn’t. And Ginny knew this as certainly as she knew that Harry was one of the people behind there.
She licked her lips and ducked back behind the wall, looking around for another alcove in which she could hide and wait. There were none, unfortunately, but there was a plant halfway down the corridor, just in front of the door to her classroom, and that’s where she went.
Several minutes later she heard more rustling and stilled her body entirely when she saw Harry and - yes, she knew it - Malfoy emerge from the alcove. Both were sweaty and flushed, and both were smiling like idiots. Idiots who’d just got done shagging spontaneously. She seethed.
Harry’s mouth moved, though she couldn’t hear him, and then she watched as he leaned forward and kissed Malfoy on the lips. Malfoy broke away quickly and looked around, panicked. She adored the irony of the situation. He was worried about a straggler seeing them.
Neither, however, was worried about someone else seeing. Perhaps someone who’d cottoned on to what they were doing and was waiting to see proof.
She hated Harry for it. For everything. For being gay, but most of all for this. For Malfoy. He’d left her for a boy. It had crushed her. But the horror of watching him - noble Harry Potter - cheating on that boy with Malfoy. It was beyond words, beyond humiliation, beyond anger or resentment. He could have literally stabbed her in the back with a knife and it would have hurt less than this.
She watched with angry tears trailing down her cheeks as the boys made their way down the corridor and out of sight, probably having decided to skip the second part of the lesson.
She wanted to hurt Harry. She wanted to hit him and to yell at him and make him feel as badly as she felt. Make him regret what he’d done. And a moment later a way to do this occurred to her. Something even better than yelling at him.
She bit her lip, aware of the desperation behind her actions. But it didn’t matter.
Tonight, during dinner, she’d go up to Ravenclaw Tower. And there she would wait for Anthony.
Chapter Twenty-One | Page of Contents | Chapter Twenty-Three
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,801
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: My dearest readers, I can only apologize for the wait you have been made to endure! I will be getting my new computer (since my old one cannot be fixed!) within the next week, and then the story shall officially start up again! I felt horrible, so I rewrote the beginning of this chapter and finished it up on this shitty excuse for a broken laptop I have at the moment. I hope the foreshadow of angst-to-be will make up for the gap between chapters. I know a lot of you have been wondering when there would be an explosion, and, well, I think we're nearly there.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Twenty-Two
If Harry had known what a catalyst it would be, perhaps he never would have done it.
Perhaps he would not have even gotten out of bed that day.
But, as it were, life is cruel, and he could not have known the catastrophic effects which would follow something so wonderful.
Indeed, he would have no way of knowing until the following day.
* * *
He could have taken the weather as a bad omen when he woke up that morning, but ever since that talk he’d had with Draco in the Great Hall, he’d not looked at things with a fatalistic point of view. Instead, he smiled at the rain pounding on the window of his dorm, enjoying the sound of it.
He knew he should be attempting to work out what to do regarding the situation with Draco and Anthony, but his spirits were lifted after having at least made up with Draco last night. And he couldn’t seem to stop smiling whenever he thought of that ketchup stain on Draco’s shirt. He wondered how something so strange could be so bloody adorable.
Even the sight of Ron and Hermione sitting together at breakfast couldn’t wholly dampen his spirits. He sat down by himself and pulled a plate of sausages over, smiling to himself every once in a while at the thought of Draco. He must have looked spectacularly odd to anyone watching.
It was as though the world was deliberately trying to put him at ease this morning: halfway through his second sausage he looked up and saw Draco walk into the Great Hall. He watched him as he sat down at the Slytherin table next to Pansy, spread marmalade on a piece of toast, and, as though his anorexia had never been, took a large bite. Harry saw Pansy watching him with a wide smile as well. He longed to go over there and sit beside him, to smile with him and laugh with him and enjoy the happy atmosphere this morning, but he did not, if only because he was well aware of the way in which the rest of the Great Hall would react, and he was not willing to damage his (or Draco’s) good mood.
He looked back down at his food and smiled again, remembering last night, remembering so many nights from the past few months. Draco’s shy smile when Harry flirted with him; Draco’s lovely pale skin beneath his fingers; Draco’s perfect arse and the way it felt to slide into him, to be connected in that way; Draco’s hips, and his hip bones; Draco’s hair; Draco’s laugh; Draco’s ketchup stain on his shirt.
Draco, and everything that noun encompassed.
Harry was still smiling as he walked to his first class.
* * *
The feeling of elation did not diminish after Charms, though Harry certainly felt as though Professor Flitwick was trying his hardest considering the agonizing monotony of his lecture.
As everyone exited the classroom Harry caught up to Draco and Pansy, who were walking side by side, and squeezed between them, taking their arms in his.
“I learned a lot today,” he said, smiling devilishly at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes.
“I should hope so,” he said, “because as an Auror, I’m certain the theory of levitation will be useful.”
Harry snorted. “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Draco.” He was pleased to see Draco blush. Beside him, Pansy giggled. “As an Auror, levitation itself may certainly come in handy. The theory, however, will be of no use to me when I’m operating on pure instinct, fighting for my life and the survival of hostages!”
“You’re lucky you defeated a Dark Lord,” Draco said. “Because if you hadn’t, I would be so embarrassed for you right now that I might be inclined to walk away.”
Harry smiled cheekily. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I did defeat a Dark Lord, hm?”
Draco looked over at him and in his eyes Harry saw lust. Pure, unadulterated lust. And though they were in the middle of a hallway filled with students, Harry felt blood begin to rush south as images of their time in the locker room chased themselves through his mind.
Pansy, for her part, while not the brightest, must have seen something, because she mumbled something about wanting to speak to a professor before the next class started. Harry didn’t pay much attention. The warm glow that had surrounded him since this morning burned red. He looked around only briefly before grabbing Draco’s hand and pulling him to the end of the corridor where he knew of an alcove which housed a brilliant window that contained an outcrop wide enough to sit on, and, most importantly, drapes.
Fairly certain that no one was watching, he shoved Draco behind the drapes and crawled on top of him. He’d had an idea that Draco might resist, might insist on getting to class, but to his delighted surprise Draco tangled his hands in Harry’s hair and pulled him down into a rough kiss.
“So fucking hot,” Draco whispered between frenzied kisses. Harry moved down to bite his neck, all at once determined to leave a mark. He didn’t know where this suddenly ravenous hunger had come from, only that it was incredibly intense. “Turns me on . . . so much.” Harry ground down, dragging their erections together, and delighted in Draco’s quiet moan.
Before he could finish with what was promising to be a very large hickey, Draco grabbed his face and forced Harry to look at him. He devoured Harry with his eyes.
“What?” Harry teased, continuing the rocking motion with his hips. Slowly. So slowly. Drawing it out, watching Draco squirm. “Turns you on that I defeated a Dark Lord?” Harry never would have imagined himself saying something like that - something so egotistical and obnoxious. But the way Draco arched up into him and dug his fingers into Harry’s cheeks made him think he would say just about anything if it elicited this kind of reaction. He thought about that night in the Great Hall - Draco’s kink - and felt his cock swell further. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”
Draco opened his mouth and for a moment Harry thought he might scream right here in the middle of the hallway. But he didn’t; his mouth merely fell open and his eyes closed, as though he was screaming and someone had simply turned off the volume.
Harry bent forward, so his lips were near Draco’s ear. “Tell me.”
Draco gripped Harry’s arms, like pillars on either side of Draco’s face, and at the same time wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist.
“When you killed him,” Draco gasped, thrusting up into Harry so hard that it was a wonder he had any breath at all. “So fucking powerful, Harry. You don’t even realize.”
Later, he would be a bit embarrassed by his own response, but the way he reacted to Draco stroking his ego was incredible. He buried his face in Draco’s neck and growled. Meanwhile, the friction between their bodies (specifically the rub of Harry’s jeans against Draco’s trousers), might have lit them both on fire had Harry’s words not caused Draco to lose his mind in the next few minutes.
“Then tell me, baby.”
“People are scared of you,” Draco whispered, his eyes wide, staring, mesmerized, into Harry’s. “Fuck, people are scared of you.”
“Mm, and does that turn you on, Draco? Does it turn you on that grown wizards are scared of me because I defeated Voldemort?” Draco’s reaction to hearing Harry say that name was astounding: he whined high up in his throat and clutched Harry’s arms more tightly. “Does it make you hard when you think about it? When you remember watching it happen?”
Harry lowered his voice so it was no more than a gravelly whisper. “Were you this hard when it happened? How much did it turn you on when I spoke about you before I killed him? When I told everyone watching how I’d overpowered you and taken your wand.”
“Harry!” Draco gasped, and his hands returned to Harry’s cheeks, where they dug in painfully. “Harry, fuck me, please.”
Without another word Harry dragged Draco’s trousers down until his arse was bared, unbuttoned his own jeans, pulled his cock out, and wasted no time in sucking on two fingers and shoving them unceremoniously into Draco’s arse.
Draco muffled his shout in Harry’s shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around Harry’s neck and Harry could feel Draco trembling from the effort.
“You could come just like this, couldn’t you?” Harry taunted, slamming his fingers into Draco and ripping them back out, only to repeat the process. Somewhere in the back of his mind he stored this information: he probably could make Draco come this way. Apparently he not only had a kink for being called baby, but for being fingered, as well.
“Harry, please,” Draco whimpered. “Fuck me.”
He needed nothing more than that. He ripped Draco trousers the rest of the way off, not bothering to pull his own down even below his arse. His cock was out and that was enough. He quickly covered himself with spit and lined up with Draco’s entrance.
“Don’t waste time,” Draco breathed. He pushed down, trying to get Harry inside. “Just fuck me. Hard. Fast. Now. It’s almost break.”
Well, if that was what he wanted . . .
Harry shoved his cock into Draco’s willing body, nearly all the way to the root in one go. To stifle his cry, Draco bit Harry’s shoulder where his robe had slipped. Harry was taken by surprise and he yelped. He could feel the warmth of blood trickling down his skin, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not when Draco was begging to be pounded.
Draco held on to Harry’s neck as his insides were battered and his arse was dragged back and forth along the rough stone of the ledge on which they were fucking. Harry imagined Draco in the Great Hall, watching with everyone else when he’d killed Tom Riddle. Imagined Draco getting hard and picturing Harry fucking him. He knew, in his rational mind, that Draco’s thoughts had been far from there when it had really been happening, but that didn’t mean looking back on it didn’t turn him on. Indeed, Draco had just admitted to it, and the thought made Harry feel hot.
Sweat poured from him in copious amounts. His stomach was tensed and aching and his legs burned, but he thrust harder, needing right now to fuck, hard and dirty.
And that was what he did - he had no idea how long they were there, their bodies moving together, their harsh breathing filling the little alcove and bouncing it back at them. He'd stop and tease Draco, and then he'd go back to his rough treatment, all the while forcing himself not to climax, to make this last. He wouldn't allow Draco to touch his own cock.
It was when a bell rang and classroom doors were flung open, releasing students into the corridors for a short break before they had to go back to lectures and potions and complicated wand movements, that Harry realized they'd been back there for over forty-five minutes.
Harry’s eyes flew open at the same time that Draco tightened his hold around Harry’s neck, his eyes remaining shut.
“Don’t stop,” Draco rasped, rocking his body harder now, trying desperately to finish. “I won’t scream, I promise, just don’t stop.”
Fortunately (and strangely, as Harry thought about it later), the sounds of students so close by, separated by only a few feet of alcove and a heavy drape, excited Harry further. Was it possible for him to be harder than he’d been before? Perhaps. Either way, he found himself slamming mercilessly into Draco's arse with the last of his energy, thanking Merlin that he hadn’t removed his jeans and thus prevented the sound of slapping skin.
“Are you gonna come?” he growled. Draco whimpered. His heels dug into Harry’s back and he bit Harry’s shoulder again. Harry just managed not to cry out in pain as Draco’s teeth sunk into the raw wounds from before. He did, however, pound into Draco so roughly on that stroke that Draco’s head nearly hit the wall behind him.
Harry was so close. He could feel his climax building up like a wild river behind a dam.
“Are you gonna scream?” he taunted, knowing he shouldn’t provoke Draco, but unable to help himself. “Let all those students know that you’re being fucked by Harry Potter back here? That you’re gonna come without me touching your cock?”
Again, Draco sunk his teeth into a spot close enough to the original bite mark on Harry’s shoulder that a few teeth punctured still-bleeding marks. This time, however, he felt Draco tense up and, just as he’d said, felt Draco reach his orgasm without having had his cock stimulated. This knowledge combined with the feeling of Draco’s arse clenching around him sent Harry over the edge as well. Draco leaned up to capture Harry’s mouth in a bruising kiss, effectively muffling his shout of release.
And Harry could have no idea of the girl hidden halfway down the corridor, waiting impatiently for them to finish.
* * *
It was during her five minute break from Potions that Ginny heard Harry shout. She’d been leaning against the wall, talking to a classmate, when the sound had come from somewhere to her right. She’d known almost immediately to whom the voice belonged - after all, while they hadn’t done much, they’d done something, and Ginny remembered what Harry sounded like when he moaned.
No one else appeared to have heard it. Curious, she’d told her friend she’d get to class in a moment when the bell rang to signal the end of the break. As soon as the hallway had cleared out she’d stopped breathing for a moment, listening to any further noise. Had she imagined it?
As if in answer to the thought, another sound made itself known. This one was much quieter - just a sigh. It had come from the alcove nearby. Her eyebrows dipped and she crept closer, peeking around the wall and watching the drapes that obscured a large window flutter. There were small sounds coming from the other side, that of heavy breathing and quiet shuffling.
Ginny’s stomach clenched. It was painfully obvious that there were two people behind those drapes, and that those two people had just gotten done doing something definitely illicit. Ordinarily, Ginny would have shrugged and gone back to class, not one to make trouble for anyone who felt like being intimate semi-publicly. She’d always been very liberal about that.
But she’d heard Harry. She had no doubt. And this close, she could smell him, too. The scent of sex, sweat, and, very faintly, the same thing she’d smelled when she’d been sexual with Harry. His unique brand of sexual exertion.
It could have been Anthony.
But it wasn’t. And Ginny knew this as certainly as she knew that Harry was one of the people behind there.
She licked her lips and ducked back behind the wall, looking around for another alcove in which she could hide and wait. There were none, unfortunately, but there was a plant halfway down the corridor, just in front of the door to her classroom, and that’s where she went.
Several minutes later she heard more rustling and stilled her body entirely when she saw Harry and - yes, she knew it - Malfoy emerge from the alcove. Both were sweaty and flushed, and both were smiling like idiots. Idiots who’d just got done shagging spontaneously. She seethed.
Harry’s mouth moved, though she couldn’t hear him, and then she watched as he leaned forward and kissed Malfoy on the lips. Malfoy broke away quickly and looked around, panicked. She adored the irony of the situation. He was worried about a straggler seeing them.
Neither, however, was worried about someone else seeing. Perhaps someone who’d cottoned on to what they were doing and was waiting to see proof.
She hated Harry for it. For everything. For being gay, but most of all for this. For Malfoy. He’d left her for a boy. It had crushed her. But the horror of watching him - noble Harry Potter - cheating on that boy with Malfoy. It was beyond words, beyond humiliation, beyond anger or resentment. He could have literally stabbed her in the back with a knife and it would have hurt less than this.
She watched with angry tears trailing down her cheeks as the boys made their way down the corridor and out of sight, probably having decided to skip the second part of the lesson.
She wanted to hurt Harry. She wanted to hit him and to yell at him and make him feel as badly as she felt. Make him regret what he’d done. And a moment later a way to do this occurred to her. Something even better than yelling at him.
She bit her lip, aware of the desperation behind her actions. But it didn’t matter.
Tonight, during dinner, she’d go up to Ravenclaw Tower. And there she would wait for Anthony.
Chapter Twenty-One | Page of Contents | Chapter Twenty-Three