HP Fic: "A Stroke of Luck" (Harry/Draco). 13 Smutty Nights, part 13/13
Title: A Stroke of Luck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2151
Warnings: pretty much just the sex
Prompt: 13 Smutty Nights of Halloween fest at hd_seasons, prompt #13 (Things that go bump in the night; come)
Disclaimer: Done for fun, not profit. No copyright infringement intended. Characters belong to JKR.
Summary: Draco's resolve to help Potter puts him in a precarious position
Author’s Notes: And…that's it for this one! Thank you to all of you reading and commenting. This has been a fun little experience!
Draco was in the midst of sending out his Patronus with a message for Morgan when he saw Potter step out of the shadow of the dragon tombstone and enter the mausoleum. He cut his message short and sent it off, hoping he could get to his partner before the man did something stupid. It as a short-lived hope. Draco was still a dozen metres away when Potter stepped into the mausoleum and the door slammed shut behind him.
"Merlin's bollocks!" he muttered, still trying to be quiet in case there was someone around who did not know that Potter had a partner in the vicinity. He tried a number of opening and unlocking spells on the door, but none of them did anything. He carefully circled the building. There were no other doors, but there was a small vent on the back side, and Draco transfigured a branch into a small ladder so he could climb up and see what was going on inside.
He could only see their suspect from the back. He was balding just slightly, and Draco noticed that his robes were heavy and expensive. The man also had a gold pocket watch that dangled at his side. It looked familiar, but Draco could not place it. "I honestly expected to have to work harder to get you here, Potter," the man was saying. "I wasn't certain your supervisor would send you to this particular cemetery. And if you did end up here, I had no idea how I was going to get you inside. I should have trusted your Gryffindor impulsivity to do that for me."
"What do you want with me?" It was not that different a question than Potter had asked Selwyn, but he seemed more worried this time. He was bound by rope and kept looking at a place over their suspect's shoulder that Draco could not see from this angle. Draco wanted to make a noise or a movement that would let Potter know he was here, was trying to find a way to get Potter out of his current predicament, but he did not want to alert Potter's captor.
This man had a different answer than Selwyn had, and hearing it chilled Draco more than the wind. "I want power," he said softly. "And I'm going to get it."
"And how are you going to do that?" The look on Potter's face said he thought he already knew the answer. He kept looking at that same spot.
"I figured you, of all people, knew that," the old man said in his terribly soft voice. "I almost had you the last time, but your partner stepped in and ruined my plan. But he's not here tonight, is he?"
"No," Potter whispered, the sound amplified by the stone walls and floor. "He's not."
"That's right. Which means you're all mine. You know, if you were going to live, I'd suggest you took this as a lesson in not running head-first into unknown situations. But it's really not going to matter in another few moments." He moved closer to Potter and turned to face the same direction. His eyes were reverent. "Now...this may hurt. A lot."
The other wizard lifted his wand and began to cast murmured spells. Draco decided it was now or never. He scurried to the other side of the building, where he had spied a crack in the wall. After a moment to figure where exactly Potter was standing inside, he cast a Reducto at the spot and barged his way in as soon as the dust had settled enough for him to see he had made it through the wall in one shot.
"Malfoy, watch out!" he heard Potter yell as he stumbled inside. Unfortunately, the dust was so thick that Draco was not sure exactly what he was meant to watch out for until it felt as if his left leg was engulfed in flame. Fire wound its way up his leg and into the rest of his body. His wand fell out of his hand a second before the air was squeezed from his lungs. He managed a panicked look up at Potter, who was shouting something he could not hear.
He lost track of everything that was happening then. He caught a glimpse of the older wizard's face, looking startled, and then his entire world was pain and fire and the desperate need to breathe. The world had no air. His fingers scrabbled at his throat, as if he could remove an unseen pair of hands. This was agony. Had this been what Potter felt the night back at the circle? The world around him narrowed to a single bright point of changing colours and the pain intensified. He screamed, or would have, if he could breathe. The only mercy would be for this to end soon.
That was his last coherent thought.
~0~
It was some time before Draco became aware that he could breathe. Every breath was torture, pain in a way that was different from the last bit of time he could remember, but it was breath all the same. He could hear a shaky, frantic voice casting Rennervate some place above him. His eyes, hot and dry, slowly focussed. He blinked to wet them and heard the voice above him--Potter's voice--change in timbre. "Malfoy? Malfoy! Are you all right?"
With effort, Draco took in a breath and tried to focus on Potter's face. "I wouldn't call it 'all right', necessarily." It hurt to talk, more than it hurt to breathe, but it was worth it for the look of pure relief on Potter's face.
Potter let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. "You're alive and giving me that 'don't be an idiot' look, so I'm going to count that as a positive. Fuck, Malfoy, I really thought I was going to be too late that time."
"Thought had occurred to me, too." Potter was gripping his hand much too hard, but Draco found he did not want him to let go. "But you didn't." He heard a commotion not far away and saw Potter whip his head up. "Morgan?"
"The whole bloody squad, from the looks of it," Potter said before he was shoved roughly out of Draco's view, his hand pulled from Draco's with just enough time for an extra squeeze.
There was a mediwitch and mediwizard in his face just then, asking him questions and not seeming to understand that talking actually hurt. They poked and prodded and cast a number of spells and did not leave him alone until his took a great big breath and bellowed at them to leave him the bloody hell alone.
"Seems back to normal," one of them muttered, getting up from his kneeling position.
Draco sat up, willing himself not to wobble. "Yes, that's it, normal. Just get away from me. Where's Potter? I want to talk to him."
The mediwitch rolled her eyes. "He's over there, giving his statement to Morgan while the others take care of the body."
"Body?"
"Thornfeld. That's the older bloke's name."
"He's dead?"
"Quite. Heart gave out when Potter pulled you from that damned circle. Some sort of magic that tied him to it. Nothing anyone could do for him, even if we really wanted to."
"Out of my way," Draco heard from behind the mediwitch, and then Potter was kneeling beside him again. "Are you really all right?"
"I'm fine, Potter. Relax." It was easier to breathe now, and Draco thought he might just be able to stand if people would stop crowding him. "Help me up, would you? It's humiliating, being on the ground like this. Also, it's cold."
Potter grinned lopsidedly at him. "Sure thing." He helped Draco stand and stood close-by until he was sure Draco was steady. "Morgan's making some noise about sending you off to St Mungo's."
"He bloody well is not," Draco huffed, feeling more like himself with every moment. "Where is he?"
"Right behind you," Morgan's voice boomed, and Draco nearly jumped into Potter's arms. "What is it?"
Draco turned to face his supervisor. "I am not going to St Mungo's. I'm perfectly fine. Just ask the medical team." He threw the pair who had pounced upon him a glance that said he would hex them in an instant if they did not back him up on this. "I do not need medical treatment. Potter didn't when he ended up in the circle, and he's just fine."
Morgan rounded on Draco's partner. "When were you in the circle? The night you two found the first one?"
Potter glared at Draco. "Er. For just a moment, yeah. No big deal."
Their supervisor looked apoplectic. "There will be a punishment for leaving this detail out of your reports. Right now, I just want you two out of my sight."
"Does that mean we have a day off?" Potter asked, taking a step back and blinking innocently. Even Draco was surprised at his nerve.
"Yes, fine! Just get out of here. It's Sunday. I don't want to see either of you again until Tuesday morning!"
Potter grabbed Draco's arm. "Quick. Let's get out of here before he changes his mind."
Draco did not need to be told twice. He simply Apparated them both back to his flat, where he had Potter shoved against a wall before they had even fully settled.
"Are you certain you're up for this?" Potter asked him, his glasses askew.
"Potter, if you don't take my actions as a definite sign, then there's simply no hope for you. You started something this evening, and now that our distraction is dealt with, I'd suggest you finish it."
Potter laughed against his neck. "We both almost end up dead, and you call it a distraction from our snogging. Glad to see where your priorities are."
"Shut up and show me all those filthy things you mentioned," Draco said, pulling Potter closer and tossing his spectacles aside.
"With pleasure." It was nearly a growl, and Draco's knees felt weak in a way he was certain had nothing to do with what had happened in the mausoleum, and everything to do with Potter's voice. "Where's your bedroom?"
Words were too complicated at this juncture, and so Draco just led him, shedding his robes as they went. Potter stumbled behind him, and Draco had to laugh. "I consider it a good sign that the only thing to go bump in the night at this juncture is you, minus your glasses."
Behind him, Potter snorted. "Enough witty comments, Malfoy. Just lead me to your bed. After that, I'll take care of making sure you won't be coherent enough for those sorts of one-liners."
Draco shivered. "Promises, promises. Let's see what you're made of, Potter."
They ended up a tangled mess of limbs atop the duvet. Potter's hands and mouth roamed his body, licking, biting, tasting, exploring. Draco ran one hand through Potter's thick, messy hair and moaned, squirming helplessly beneath him. When Potter flipped him over and began preparing him, Draco discovered exactly what Potter had meant by wanting to leave him incoherent. Words tumbled from his lips, a cascade of please and yes and fuck and Potter, and his partner only moaned behind him. "Ready?" he asked after several more minutes of the best--or was it worst?--teasing Draco had ever experienced.
"Fuck yes, just do it already," Draco ground out, his hands fisting the silk sheets beneath him.
Potter made that growling, possessive sound again, and a moment later, he was snugly inside Draco, establishing a rhythm that would have made a percussionist proud. Draco let out a cry once Potter found his prostate, and it was not long after that that he came, his cock in one of Potter's rough hands, and not long after that before he felt Potter fill him with his own release.
Potter positioned himself behind Draco in the bed and pulled him back into an embrace. "Not bad, hm?"
"Definitely not." His body kept trying to drag him down into sleep, insisting that a near-death experience and a vigorous shagging had earned him a nap, at the very least, but he did not want to miss any of this experience.
"Especially not for a first try," Potter said into his ear, his voice a bit thick with exhaustion. "Lucky for us, we have until Tuesday."
Draco laughed and turned to face Potter. "Yes. We're both lucky." He dipped his head and kissed Potter's shoulder. Very lucky, indeed.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2151
Warnings: pretty much just the sex
Prompt: 13 Smutty Nights of Halloween fest at hd_seasons, prompt #13 (Things that go bump in the night; come)
Disclaimer: Done for fun, not profit. No copyright infringement intended. Characters belong to JKR.
Summary: Draco's resolve to help Potter puts him in a precarious position
Author’s Notes: And…that's it for this one! Thank you to all of you reading and commenting. This has been a fun little experience!
Draco was in the midst of sending out his Patronus with a message for Morgan when he saw Potter step out of the shadow of the dragon tombstone and enter the mausoleum. He cut his message short and sent it off, hoping he could get to his partner before the man did something stupid. It as a short-lived hope. Draco was still a dozen metres away when Potter stepped into the mausoleum and the door slammed shut behind him.
"Merlin's bollocks!" he muttered, still trying to be quiet in case there was someone around who did not know that Potter had a partner in the vicinity. He tried a number of opening and unlocking spells on the door, but none of them did anything. He carefully circled the building. There were no other doors, but there was a small vent on the back side, and Draco transfigured a branch into a small ladder so he could climb up and see what was going on inside.
He could only see their suspect from the back. He was balding just slightly, and Draco noticed that his robes were heavy and expensive. The man also had a gold pocket watch that dangled at his side. It looked familiar, but Draco could not place it. "I honestly expected to have to work harder to get you here, Potter," the man was saying. "I wasn't certain your supervisor would send you to this particular cemetery. And if you did end up here, I had no idea how I was going to get you inside. I should have trusted your Gryffindor impulsivity to do that for me."
"What do you want with me?" It was not that different a question than Potter had asked Selwyn, but he seemed more worried this time. He was bound by rope and kept looking at a place over their suspect's shoulder that Draco could not see from this angle. Draco wanted to make a noise or a movement that would let Potter know he was here, was trying to find a way to get Potter out of his current predicament, but he did not want to alert Potter's captor.
This man had a different answer than Selwyn had, and hearing it chilled Draco more than the wind. "I want power," he said softly. "And I'm going to get it."
"And how are you going to do that?" The look on Potter's face said he thought he already knew the answer. He kept looking at that same spot.
"I figured you, of all people, knew that," the old man said in his terribly soft voice. "I almost had you the last time, but your partner stepped in and ruined my plan. But he's not here tonight, is he?"
"No," Potter whispered, the sound amplified by the stone walls and floor. "He's not."
"That's right. Which means you're all mine. You know, if you were going to live, I'd suggest you took this as a lesson in not running head-first into unknown situations. But it's really not going to matter in another few moments." He moved closer to Potter and turned to face the same direction. His eyes were reverent. "Now...this may hurt. A lot."
The other wizard lifted his wand and began to cast murmured spells. Draco decided it was now or never. He scurried to the other side of the building, where he had spied a crack in the wall. After a moment to figure where exactly Potter was standing inside, he cast a Reducto at the spot and barged his way in as soon as the dust had settled enough for him to see he had made it through the wall in one shot.
"Malfoy, watch out!" he heard Potter yell as he stumbled inside. Unfortunately, the dust was so thick that Draco was not sure exactly what he was meant to watch out for until it felt as if his left leg was engulfed in flame. Fire wound its way up his leg and into the rest of his body. His wand fell out of his hand a second before the air was squeezed from his lungs. He managed a panicked look up at Potter, who was shouting something he could not hear.
He lost track of everything that was happening then. He caught a glimpse of the older wizard's face, looking startled, and then his entire world was pain and fire and the desperate need to breathe. The world had no air. His fingers scrabbled at his throat, as if he could remove an unseen pair of hands. This was agony. Had this been what Potter felt the night back at the circle? The world around him narrowed to a single bright point of changing colours and the pain intensified. He screamed, or would have, if he could breathe. The only mercy would be for this to end soon.
That was his last coherent thought.
~0~
It was some time before Draco became aware that he could breathe. Every breath was torture, pain in a way that was different from the last bit of time he could remember, but it was breath all the same. He could hear a shaky, frantic voice casting Rennervate some place above him. His eyes, hot and dry, slowly focussed. He blinked to wet them and heard the voice above him--Potter's voice--change in timbre. "Malfoy? Malfoy! Are you all right?"
With effort, Draco took in a breath and tried to focus on Potter's face. "I wouldn't call it 'all right', necessarily." It hurt to talk, more than it hurt to breathe, but it was worth it for the look of pure relief on Potter's face.
Potter let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. "You're alive and giving me that 'don't be an idiot' look, so I'm going to count that as a positive. Fuck, Malfoy, I really thought I was going to be too late that time."
"Thought had occurred to me, too." Potter was gripping his hand much too hard, but Draco found he did not want him to let go. "But you didn't." He heard a commotion not far away and saw Potter whip his head up. "Morgan?"
"The whole bloody squad, from the looks of it," Potter said before he was shoved roughly out of Draco's view, his hand pulled from Draco's with just enough time for an extra squeeze.
There was a mediwitch and mediwizard in his face just then, asking him questions and not seeming to understand that talking actually hurt. They poked and prodded and cast a number of spells and did not leave him alone until his took a great big breath and bellowed at them to leave him the bloody hell alone.
"Seems back to normal," one of them muttered, getting up from his kneeling position.
Draco sat up, willing himself not to wobble. "Yes, that's it, normal. Just get away from me. Where's Potter? I want to talk to him."
The mediwitch rolled her eyes. "He's over there, giving his statement to Morgan while the others take care of the body."
"Body?"
"Thornfeld. That's the older bloke's name."
"He's dead?"
"Quite. Heart gave out when Potter pulled you from that damned circle. Some sort of magic that tied him to it. Nothing anyone could do for him, even if we really wanted to."
"Out of my way," Draco heard from behind the mediwitch, and then Potter was kneeling beside him again. "Are you really all right?"
"I'm fine, Potter. Relax." It was easier to breathe now, and Draco thought he might just be able to stand if people would stop crowding him. "Help me up, would you? It's humiliating, being on the ground like this. Also, it's cold."
Potter grinned lopsidedly at him. "Sure thing." He helped Draco stand and stood close-by until he was sure Draco was steady. "Morgan's making some noise about sending you off to St Mungo's."
"He bloody well is not," Draco huffed, feeling more like himself with every moment. "Where is he?"
"Right behind you," Morgan's voice boomed, and Draco nearly jumped into Potter's arms. "What is it?"
Draco turned to face his supervisor. "I am not going to St Mungo's. I'm perfectly fine. Just ask the medical team." He threw the pair who had pounced upon him a glance that said he would hex them in an instant if they did not back him up on this. "I do not need medical treatment. Potter didn't when he ended up in the circle, and he's just fine."
Morgan rounded on Draco's partner. "When were you in the circle? The night you two found the first one?"
Potter glared at Draco. "Er. For just a moment, yeah. No big deal."
Their supervisor looked apoplectic. "There will be a punishment for leaving this detail out of your reports. Right now, I just want you two out of my sight."
"Does that mean we have a day off?" Potter asked, taking a step back and blinking innocently. Even Draco was surprised at his nerve.
"Yes, fine! Just get out of here. It's Sunday. I don't want to see either of you again until Tuesday morning!"
Potter grabbed Draco's arm. "Quick. Let's get out of here before he changes his mind."
Draco did not need to be told twice. He simply Apparated them both back to his flat, where he had Potter shoved against a wall before they had even fully settled.
"Are you certain you're up for this?" Potter asked him, his glasses askew.
"Potter, if you don't take my actions as a definite sign, then there's simply no hope for you. You started something this evening, and now that our distraction is dealt with, I'd suggest you finish it."
Potter laughed against his neck. "We both almost end up dead, and you call it a distraction from our snogging. Glad to see where your priorities are."
"Shut up and show me all those filthy things you mentioned," Draco said, pulling Potter closer and tossing his spectacles aside.
"With pleasure." It was nearly a growl, and Draco's knees felt weak in a way he was certain had nothing to do with what had happened in the mausoleum, and everything to do with Potter's voice. "Where's your bedroom?"
Words were too complicated at this juncture, and so Draco just led him, shedding his robes as they went. Potter stumbled behind him, and Draco had to laugh. "I consider it a good sign that the only thing to go bump in the night at this juncture is you, minus your glasses."
Behind him, Potter snorted. "Enough witty comments, Malfoy. Just lead me to your bed. After that, I'll take care of making sure you won't be coherent enough for those sorts of one-liners."
Draco shivered. "Promises, promises. Let's see what you're made of, Potter."
They ended up a tangled mess of limbs atop the duvet. Potter's hands and mouth roamed his body, licking, biting, tasting, exploring. Draco ran one hand through Potter's thick, messy hair and moaned, squirming helplessly beneath him. When Potter flipped him over and began preparing him, Draco discovered exactly what Potter had meant by wanting to leave him incoherent. Words tumbled from his lips, a cascade of please and yes and fuck and Potter, and his partner only moaned behind him. "Ready?" he asked after several more minutes of the best--or was it worst?--teasing Draco had ever experienced.
"Fuck yes, just do it already," Draco ground out, his hands fisting the silk sheets beneath him.
Potter made that growling, possessive sound again, and a moment later, he was snugly inside Draco, establishing a rhythm that would have made a percussionist proud. Draco let out a cry once Potter found his prostate, and it was not long after that that he came, his cock in one of Potter's rough hands, and not long after that before he felt Potter fill him with his own release.
Potter positioned himself behind Draco in the bed and pulled him back into an embrace. "Not bad, hm?"
"Definitely not." His body kept trying to drag him down into sleep, insisting that a near-death experience and a vigorous shagging had earned him a nap, at the very least, but he did not want to miss any of this experience.
"Especially not for a first try," Potter said into his ear, his voice a bit thick with exhaustion. "Lucky for us, we have until Tuesday."
Draco laughed and turned to face Potter. "Yes. We're both lucky." He dipped his head and kissed Potter's shoulder. Very lucky, indeed.