Starts With a Spin - Chapter 4
Yeah…should totally be studying for finals… Meh, finals are overrated anyway! Writing is so much more important! Not to mention I’ve been threatened with a whip. ^.~ lol, not arguing with that!
Title: Starts With a Spin
Category: Harry Potter
Genre: Humor/Romance/Smut/Slash
Rating: R
Pairing: H/D
Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain’t mine…if it were…well…Draco certainly wouldn’t be Harry’s enemy forever. ^.~
Summary: It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.
--> All chapters can be found here. <--
previous
~~Chapter 4~~
Practice…practice…practice?
Malfoy wanted them to practice??
Harry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses. His arms were crossed and he could feel his fingers digging hard into his biceps. He vaguely wondered why he felt so nervous.
“Practice what?” he finally managed to get out. The pink in Draco’s face spread and Harry watched in slight amusement as even his ears became consumed in the color.
“You cannot possibly be that dense,” Draco muttered, still staring straight ahead. He didn’t seem to want to look at Harry.
“You mean you actually want to give me a…a…a blowjob more than once?” Harry asked incredulously, and not a little hysterically. Draco’s hands slammed down on the desk and he whipped around to glare at Harry.
“No, Potter, I most definitely do not, but I also don’t want to look like a fool in front of everyone,” he said, voice strangely calm. It unnerved Harry, because it simply didn’t match the burning look in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t you feel more like a fool if everyone wondered why you seemed really good at it?” Harry asked weakly. He felt slightly triumphant when Draco blinked and appeared to think that over.
“No,” he decided, and Harry’s shoulders drooped. “They’ll just think I have natural talent.”
“Or that you’re naturally gay,” came the muttered response. Draco shot him a look and Harry immediately shut up. “So…you want to practice then.” Draco nodded, pinking again. Harry sighed, and fidgeted with his hands, picking at spare threads on his robes. Uncomfortable silence spread through the classroom they were in, and as Harry kicked lightly at the leg of the desk he was sitting on with his heel, he vaguely noted that there was no way he could show up for class now. Then he berated himself for thinking about attending class when there were clearly much more dire things happening at present. “You…um, you don’t want to,” he swallowed, “practice now, do you?”
Draco looked startled, which immediately regressed into slightly panicked, and Harry felt inexplicably relieved. “Oh. No, not now,” he answered. “Class and all, you know,” he continued to explain, with a vague gesture of his hand. Harry decided not to point out that there was no way Draco could make it to his next class by now.
“Tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow??” Draco’s voice cracked, and he coughed, before continuing in a much gruffer tone, “Yeah, tomorrow’s fine. We just need to find a room where no one will,” he shuddered, “walk in on us.”
“The Room of Requirement,” Harry mumbled, not sure if he really wanted to share that with Draco, but then he remembered that he must already be somewhat aware of it because of the previous year…
“What?”
“The Room of Requirement,” Harry repeated, louder this time. “It’s…well, it’s where you captured the lot of us last year, remember?” he asked, voice not a little bitter. Draco sniffed haughtily, raising his chin slightly.
“I seem to vaguely recall something of the sort,” he replied. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Just meet me on the seventh floor tomorrow. After dinner?”
“Can’t, quidditch practice.”
“Well, when’s that over?”
“Eight.”
“Eight then.”
“I’ll have to shower first.”
“Then at eight-thirty!” Harry said tightly, suddenly feeling very tired and grumpy. Draco looked affronted.
“No need to get huffy.”
“Look, Malfoy, this was your idea, I don’t have to show up. You can just practice on…on-”
“If you even dare suggest I try deep-throating inanimate objects, I’ll-”
“That’s not- I mean- UGH. Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry said, exasperatedly. “Look, you’ve already made me miss class and now McGonagall will be on my case… Can I just go?”
“Yes, Potter, you have my permission to leave,” Draco replied mockingly. Harry frowned.
“Tomorrow at eight-thirty, then. Seventh floor.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”
“Right.” Harry glanced at Draco once more, thoughtfully, before turning and exiting the room. Behind him, Draco exhaled deeply, burying his face in his hands.
* * *
Harry paced around the common room for nearly an entire hour the next day after dinner. His actions screamed nervousness, but Ron and Hermione had no idea what he could possibly be nervous about. Adding it up to him fretting about the Saturday parties, they thought it best to not say anything at all, and continued with their homework. Finally, around 7:45, Harry sighed deeply and dumped all of his books and paper back into his bag.
“Where are you off to?” Hermione asked, barely glancing up from her latest essay.
“I can’t concentrate, I need somewhere quieter to work,” Harry answered. He ignored Ron’s raised eyebrow and hoped neither of his friends would mention the fact that the common room was nearly completely silent, as everyone was doing homework. “I’ll just be off then. Um, don’t wait up for me.” He cringed then, thinking that made it sound as if he was going on a date, and that thought made him blush horribly.
Ron and Hermione continued to stare dubiously at him. Harry shifted on his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Well…bye then,” he muttered, and quickly left through the portrait. When he arrived at the section of the wall where the Room of Requirement was, he paused, unsure of how to continue. What type of room, exactly, did one need for this type of…practice? Eventually he settled on the idea of ‘comfortable,’ walked past the wall three times, and stepped through the door that appeared.
His eyes squeezed shut when they saw the king size bed that had placed itself in the back of the room.
“Oh, Merlin,” he mumbled, opening one eye to peek around the room. The rest of it wasn’t so bad. There was a comfortable looking couch in font of a fireplace, which burned low, spreading its heat throughout the room. It was very…cozy, which, really, was what he had been going for. Shrugging, Harry dropped his bag onto the table that was in front of the couch, and plopped down onto the soft cushions. He wondered what time it was, and suddenly spotted a clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Five after eight…he had a while. With a sigh, he unloaded his homework and began his Transfiguration essay.
It was actually nearing 8:45 when Draco finally showed up, but Harry had half expected that, so he didn’t comment. “Found the room, I see,” he said instead, when the boy appeared in the doorway.
“Well, it was the only door in this part of the hall,” Draco replied, smirking. His eyes shifted around the room, landing on the bed and then shooting towards Harry, eyebrows raised. “For some reason, I don’t see this being a very practical room to practice defense spells in,” he said snidely. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the lovely curtains, after all.” Harry felt himself blush, and cursed under his breath.
“The Room of Requirement, Malfoy? It gives you what you require,” he said bitterly. Draco frowned.
“Mind me asking why we require a bed?” he asked darkly, paling slightly under his already blushing face. Harry scowled.
“I didn’t ask for it, the room just put it there.”
“Ah.” Draco’s tone indicated that he clearly didn’t believe the other boy. Harry sighed, and began packing up his books again, moving much slower than was necessary. Apparently it was too fast for Draco, though. “Oh, you needn’t stop on my behalf,” he said quickly. “Homework’s more important.”
“I’ve finished everything for tomorrow. It’s fine,” Harry replied quietly. It was odd, being this civil around Draco. He didn’t want to risk pissing the other boy off, though, especially since he’d soon have his mouth around parts of Harry that he quite liked having, thank-you-very-much.
“Oh.” Draco shifted slightly, looking very uncomfortable, and Harry noticed he was still standing in the open doorway.
“You can come in, you know,” he said, almost amused. “It won’t do to have everyone see you standing there. Once the door shuts no one will be able to find it since the room’s already in use.” Draco still looked uncertain, but stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He slowly moved to the opposite end of the couch and sank gracefully into the seat furthest from Harry, clasping his hands together and leaning on his knees with his elbows. His brow furrowed as he took in the Gryffindor-ish colors of the room, and he seemed to be trying to refrain from saying anything about it.
Harry stared at him, noticing that he was wearing what appeared to be pajamas, though nicer ones than Harry had ever seen. He had on black draw-string pants and a green t-shirt that, quite frankly, looked too nice to be slept in. But then, this was Malfoy… Harry wondered exactly how long the other boy had thought they’d be here, since he was already in his night clothes. He also took that to mean Draco wouldn’t be doing his Prefect rounds later in the night. Harry himself was dressed in a pair of jeans he’d invested in at the end of the summer, after finally growing tired of Dudley’s hand-me-downs, and an unbuttoned, short-sleeved light blue shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. And he still felt underdressed compared to his Slytherin counterpart. He also felt vaguely jealous of the way Draco’s hair fell softly around his ears and barely reached the bottom of his neck. His own still stuck up all over the place, no matter what he tried to do with it.
“Enjoying the view, Potter?” Draco’s voice interrupted his musings, and he frowned.
“Not particularly.” Draco snorted. “So are you going to get started?” This time Draco frowned.
“Am I the only one doing anything?”
“If the dare’s mine, I’ll just wing it,” Harry replied flatly. He wasn’t about to do it more than once, after all. Draco let out a breath.
“Fine.” Then he turned to face Harry, and all at once Harry felt very nervous and dizzy, and embarrassingly enough, his pants started to feel tight. He glanced down in wide-eyed astonishment, and Draco followed his gaze, smirking.
“Eager, much?” he sneered. Harry stared at him for a few seconds, before grinning.
“Malfoy, I’m about to get a blowjob. Boy or girl or whatever, it’s still a mouth, and unless you’re really terrible, it’ll still feel good,” he laughed. Draco grimaced, nodded resignedly, and moved slowly to kneel on the floor in front of Harry. Then he just kind of stared at Harry’s crotch for a bit, clearly uncertain of where to go from there. Harry snickered helplessly, feeling slightly hysterical, his breaths already coming in sharper gasps. He reached down to his zipper, suddenly overly ready to get this started and then done and over with.
“What- wait!” Draco exclaimed, jerking his hands up to stop Harry, but halting just short of touching him. Harry giggled, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Sorry,” he gasped out when Draco stared at him oddly. “Come on, Malfoy! Just get on with it, will you?” Draco bit his bottom lip, and nodded.
“Yeah, alright,” he said quietly, and allowed Harry to unzip his pants. But then Harry paused, embarrassed all over again. “Oh, for Salazar’s sake, you’ve already held mine!” Draco burst out, and yanked Harry’s pants completely off.
“Malfoy!” Harry cried, startled.
“Shut up, Potter, you’ve still got your boxers on.” But then those didn’t matter too much either once Draco reached forward and quickly pulled them off as well. Harry’s hips complied without his permission, rising so that the clothing could be removed.
“Ergh,” Harry mumbled, blushing so bright he felt like he was glowing. Draco released a breath, apparently feeling like he’d overcome at least one obstacle.
“Ready then?” he asked, gently grasping Harry’s cock and staring at it. Harry wished he wouldn’t look at it so closely…
“Erm,” he replied instead, still trying to get used to the feeling of another person touching him so intimately. Draco didn’t wait for any other response, though, and before he could change his mind he was leaning forward and closing him mouth around the top of it.
Harry gasped, hips unintentionally thrusting forward, and he grabbed at the couch material beneath his hands, twisting it in his grip. Draco released him immediately, grimacing, his tongue nearly hanging out of his mouth.
“Augh, gross,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, and took Harry into his mouth again, deeper this time. Harry gasped once again, and then Draco began moving, mouth sliding up and down, tongue swirling as it had the previous Saturday. Harry, whose head had fallen back against the arm of the couch, stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, hardly able to believe this was happening to him. He was breathing deeply, trying to control himself lest he completely fall apart in front of Draco, and one hand was now resting on his stomach beneath his shirt, stroking his skin absently. Unconsciously, the leg Harry had propped up on the couch shifted out more, to allow Draco more room. Then suddenly Draco sucked upwards and Harry gasped again, hips thrusting forward.
Draco gagged and backed up quickly. “Potter!” he growled.
Panting, Harry could only gasp out, “Sorry!...I’m sorry…I can’t…help it.” Draco’s lips curled upwards, and he didn’t really notice that his hand was still doing the job that his mouth was not. When he did notice, he scowled, and replaced it with his mouth again, instead using his hands to hold Harry’s hips in place so he could do that sucking thing again. Harry continued to pant and gasp, and when Draco took as much of Harry as he could manage into his mouth, and slowly sucked back up, he started to let out a low moan. Hearing himself somewhere in the middle of it, he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on one of his fingers to stop himself. His eyes squeezed shut, so he didn’t see Draco’s eyes narrow. On the next suck, his teeth lightly scraped Harry’s skin, and the boy jolted.
“Ouch! Malfoy! What the-” And then he stopped talking because Draco was soothing the skin with his tongue, and really, it hadn’t hurt all that much anyway.
It didn’t take much longer. Harry could suddenly feel every muscle in his body tense and his back arched up off the couch as his world exploded in a blur of sharp pleasure that coursed through his lower stomach and groin. His thighs quivered, and he had to clamp both hands over his mouth so that he could scream silently whilst still biting his finger. Afterwards he lay gasping for breath, listening to Draco choke and cough rapidly.
“Merlin…P-Potter, you c-c-could have warned me!” he complained through his coughs, groaning as well. “Bloody hell, I need something to drink. What the hell does it take to get a glass of water around here? Ew, gross, my mouth, ugh!” A glass suddenly appeared on the table and Draco snatched it up and downed it, gasping when he slammed it back down on the table. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, “I’d take kissing you over that any day.”
“I dunno, I rather enjoyed it,” Harry sighed, finally able to find his voice. Draco looked at him, seeming unusually pleased.
“Oh? Wasn’t bad, then?”
“Malfoy, I think I can safely say that it was the most useful thing your mouth has ever been involved in when it comes to me.” Draco smirked, and Harry belatedly realized he was only feeding the other boy’s ego. “Your boyfriend will be very pleased,” he quickly added, and Draco’s head seemed to visibly deflate as he scowled, sitting back on the couch. They were both quiet for a few minutes, Draco’s arms crossed as he sulked, while Harry remained boneless, draped across his half of the couch. Draco kept glancing at him and then quickly looking away, until Harry finally realized he was still naked from the waist down. Blushing, he sat up quickly, snatching his boxers off the table where they’d been dropped. He pulled them on, feeling extremely lethargic, and once he was covered he couldn’t be bothered to find his pants. He collapsed back onto the couch and tried hard to hold down the silly grin that threatened to overtake him.
“I have to say,” Draco eventually spoke, shifting on the couch again as he’d been doing for the past few minutes, “I excel at everything I attempt to do.” Harry snorted, but didn’t bother retorting. “Um, and you’re sure you don’t want to…want to give it a go?” Harry looked at him incredulously. “I mean, I suppose it wasn’t too horrible,” Draco continued lightly, obviously trying to convince him. Harry just shook his head.
“Nah, I’m fine, thanks,” he smirked, and Draco scowled at him. He shifted again, and that was when Harry finally noticed that Draco was trying to hide his tenting pants from Harry’s sight. Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes softening. Then he raised his chin slightly, spit into his hand, and grinned slightly at the blond. “I suppose I can return the favor, though.” And with that he was lunging at Draco, who looked at him, startled, and yanked his draw-string pants down.
Draco did that squeaking thing again when Harry wrapped his fingers around him, and Harry chuckled. Draco attempted to sneer at him, but was too distracted by the familiar feel of the other boy’s hand stroking him again. He moaned, knees bending so that he could prop up his feet on the couch, and Harry crawled in between his spread legs. Twisting one hand into his own hair, Draco grit his teeth, breath hissing as he inhaled and exhaled. He could feel those green eyes on him, and opened his own silver eyes to return the stare. Harry’s glasses were crooked and looked as if they were about to slip off due to the sweat building up, so Draco reached up with his other hand and removed them all together, dropping them somewhere off to the side. Neither boy was sure what it was, but they couldn’t look away from each other. Their eyes locked, staring half-closed at each other, and only when Draco’s eyes squeezed shut as his head fell back when he came did they stop their staring contest.
Draco was breathing deeply, and Harry sat back, still staring at him. “Happy now?” he asked, amused at how flushed Draco’s appearance was at the moment. Draco glared at him.
“I suppose it will have to do,” he replied. Harry shrugged.
“Right it will, because that’s all you’re getting at the moment.”
“At the moment?”
“Ever. It’s all you’re getting ever,” Harry amended. Draco snorted, but Harry ignored him, staring at his sticky hand instead. “Does it taste awful?” he asked, slightly curious. Draco blinked.
“Does what taste awful?” he inquired, and when Harry shoved his hand in his face he reared back, nose wrinkling. “It’s…it’s not pleasant,” he said carefully. “Not horrible, but not particularly enjoyable either.” Harry continued to stare thoughtfully at his hand, before tentatively licking his finger. Draco snorted in amusement when Harry’s face contorted.
“Ew, gross,” he muttered, and went to wipe his hand on Draco’s leg, but the blond quickly rolled out of the way, landing softly on the ground.
“Don’t you dare, Potter,” he warned, so Harry wiped his hand on the couch instead. Draco snorted again, and pulled his pants all the way up, since they’d never been completely taken off in the first place. “Are we done here?”
“I believe so. Unless you’re feeling up to sucking me off again.” Harry actually looked hopeful, causing Draco to snicker.
“You wish,” he replied, and then strode out of the room, not willing to spend anymore time in Harry’s presence.
* * *
Saturday rolled around, and with it came an anxious Draco. He wasn’t really looking forward to a repeat of Wednesday, especially with other people watching. Harry was just as nervous, half afraid that he would be the one called on to do the dare. He kept zoning out and losing focus on the game.
“Harry, truth or dare?” he heard Hermione ask, far too early in the game for Harry to have even started to relax and become accustomed with the idea of what he and Draco thought they were going to have to do. Not to mention it was Hermione asking him. She wouldn’t dare him to do…that…would she? Come on, this was Hermione. Of course, this was the same girl who, a couple weeks previous, had had no problem flashing her peers… “Harry!”
“Oh!” Harry blinked, coming back to himself. “Sorry. Erm…dare?” Hermione smiled, obviously pleased, and it made Harry nervous because he honestly had no idea what to expect from her.
“Let’s change things up a bit, shall we?” the girl said, and Harry felt a strong urge to hug her. He didn’t care what he had to do, just as long as it didn’t involve Draco and his mouth. Really, anything else would be so much- “I dare you to French kiss Ron.” -worse!
Harry blinked several times in a row and tilted his head to the side, giving Hermione an incredulous look. He vaguely heard Draco snickering in the background, but ignored it. “What? Hermione- no!” he said, lips curling into a slight sneer.
“Why not? I mean, you’ve kissed Malfoy, he’s kissed Malfoy, you might as well kiss each other!” Hermione exclaimed. “Besides, I’ve been kind of curious…”
“Hermione!” Ron shouted, scandalized.
“But…Hermione, it’s weird,” Harry tried to reason. Hermione shook her head slightly.
“You didn’t mind kissing Malfoy,” she pointed out, and Harry was quick to correct her.
“Um, no, I definitely did. And it’s weird because…well…because Ron’s my friend.”
“Well that’s a lame reason,” Draco spoke up, smirking. Harry again ignored him.
“There’s absolutely no reason for me to kiss Ron,” he insisted. “Come on, Hermione, anyone else! That’d just be too…awkward.”
“Really, Hermione, I’ve had enough of kissing boys,” Ron said, nose wrinkling to show his distaste. Hermione sighed.
“Yeah, and I wouldn’t mind kissing a girl at some point,” Harry muttered.
“You kissed me last week,” Hermione immediately reminded him. Harry stared at her flatly.
“That didn’t count!” he exclaimed, and Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Oh really?” she asked, sounding vaguely insulted.
“Erm, that’s not what I meant. Um…just, you know, the whole being friends thing…” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Oh, fine. Well, I dare you to French kiss Seamus, then.”
Somehow, Harry didn’t think that was much better.
* * *
Draco was highly amused by the prospect of Potter having to snog his idiot Gryffindor friends. It vaguely occurred to him that maybe he’d be able to see what was so enthralling about watching the boy kiss someone, be it himself or another.
But then he saw Seamus grin in eager anticipation, and felt something in his stomach tighten. Draco frowned, watching Harry blush, roll his eyes, and turn to his fellow Gryffindor. It somehow seemed much easier for Harry this time around. There was no hesitation as he swiftly moved forward, catching Harry’s grinning lips gently, and Draco could see his mouth opening automatically. Seamus’ eyes closed as he eagerly returned the kiss, and it was only then that Draco remembered that he would be enjoying it, because he was gay.
His stomach tightened further, and he felt his lips curling into a sneer. It was disgusting to watch, really…
Yet he couldn’t look away. There was certainly nothing appealing about the two of them. Really, he could just look away now and ignore the spectacle until it was done and over with. Honestly, it’s not like they would be kissing long anyway; Hermione hadn’t specified an allotted amount of time. Draco’s eyes, however, stayed locked in place.
And something was changing, and he could see it happening, but he wasn’t really sure what it was. Seamus’ hands came up and were gently stroking Harry’s jaw, and the boy quivered slightly under their touch. His head tilted up willingly and Draco could see the Irish boy practically devouring Harry. Draco blinked.
Seamus’ hands lowered, running softly down Harry’s neck and along his shoulders. They followed the path down his arms, fingers curling around his wrists, and Harry shivered slightly. And- what- did he just squeak?? He didn’t do that when-
Draco finally wrenched his eyes away, head turning to glance off to the side. But his eyes only slid back to the display, and they came to rest on Seamus’ hands as his thumbs gently rubbed circles over the inside of Harry’s wrists. Helplessly, he watched as Seamus raised Harry’s wrists above the boy’s head and pushed. Putting up no resistance whatsoever, Harry went with the movement, back landing gently on the floor, and Seamus leaned over him, one leg kneeling between the other boy’s own spread eagle legs. He pinned Harry’s wrists on the floor above his head, and then somehow, Draco wasn’t sure, the kiss became even more intense. Harry arched up into Seamus, a low moan emitting from his throat and-
-and Draco saw red.
He breathed in deeply, eyes narrowing and teeth clenching together. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was furious. That idiot Gryffindor didn’t react like that with him. And he’d said, unable to lie, that Draco was a good kisser! So why, why didn’t Draco have that effect on him?! What was so much better about that stupid half-blood? Surely he couldn’t be that much better than Draco, obvious previous experience with boys aside. It was unconceivable.
“Alright, enough already!” Draco exploded, eyes going wide after he finished because he was sure he’d certainly not meant to say that. “It’s disgusting,” he continued after a second, aware that everyone was staring at him oddly, including Seamus-bloody-Finnigan and Harry-panting-much-too-heavily-Potter. His mouth continued without consent from his brain. “It’s detrimental to my mental health. I shouldn’t be forced to watch something so horrid for so long. Look, even Weasley agrees with me, don’t you Weasel?” Why couldn’t he shut up??
Ron raised an eyebrow at the blond. “S’better than watching you and him,” he said, and Draco suddenly felt very much like punching his stupid face in. Or anyone’s face, really. Especially Hermione’s, because this was all her fault to begin with and she was smirking at him now and she wasn’t allowed to do that because she didn’t smirk in the first place. Pansy as well, who was looking positively giddy and Draco had no idea why.
“Well, go on then, it’s your turn isn’t it, Potter?” he finally asked after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. Harry sat up, finally, and Draco was relieved that he seemed to have his breathing back under control. His face was still flushed, though, and bloody Finnigan looked like he was bloody glowing. It pissed Draco off.
“Right,” Harry breathed, and Draco realized he was still indeed catching his breath. But then he called on that Thomas kid, and his turn was finally over and Draco finally began to relax, stomach unclenching, along with his fists, which he hadn’t known were clenched in the first place. His fingers felt stiff, and he gazed in confusion at the half-crescent marks his fingernails had left along his palms, Dean’s turn going unheard in the background.
* * *
When Draco’s turn finally rolled around, he was slightly surprised that it was the Finch-Fletchley kid who dared him to do it. Not that Draco believed for a second it was all his doing, or even his own idea.
In any case, he tried not to look nervous as he crawled his way over to Harry. But then he was scared he looked too confident and tried to relax, only to find he was then afraid he looked too eager. And underneath all of that, he was terrified someone would be able to tell they’d practiced.
Harry was blushing straight to the roots of his hair, even though they’d known it was coming. Draco supposed it was just the thought of doing it in front of everyone else. Or then it could be because the Weasel looked like he might have a heart attack at any moment. Draco fancied that he was really just jealous. After all, he was amazing.
Then that reminded of him of the earlier episode with Finnigan, and he scowled.
He would make Harry groan this time. Or squeak. Or thrash about wildly beneath him. Or all three. Hmmm…
“Let’s go, Malfoy, we don’t have all night,” he heard Justin say, and he wondered vaguely when Hufflepuffs had started to believe they could boss him around. Releasing a nervous breath, Draco wasted no time shoving Harry’s shaking hands out of the way and undoing his pants. He didn’t even look the other boy in the eye until he was holding his cock in his hand, and then he only smirked, in complete confidence, into Harry’s wide green eyes.
Harry swallowed nervously.
Draco’s smirk widened.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, and Draco completely cut him off by engulfing as much as he possibly could of Harry’s member into his mouth. He immediately sucked his way back up, and he was rewarded with the very gratifying sound of hearing Harry squeak as he inhaled, followed by a gasping breath. That hand went up to cover his mouth again as he collapsed against the wall behind him, legs spreading into a ‘V’ shape, and Draco’s hand immediately followed, snatching Harry’s hand away. Harry looked startled for half a second, but then lost himself in the feel of Draco’s tongue.
The result was a loud, guttural moan that had half the group gasping and the other half blushing. Draco grinned around Harry, and continued with his movements. Harry slid sideways, falling from an upright position against the wall to lie on his back on the floor. Then he arched up, and Draco’s eyes couldn’t leave his lithe figure as it continued to buck up into his mouth, groaning and gasping, hands completely forgotten as they instead entangled themselves into Draco’s hair. The blond gagged a few times, but got through it well enough, managing to swallow the whole of Harry’s essence when it shot into the back of his throat. He sat up, wiping at the bit that had dribbled down his chin, and stared at the disheveled boy below him, marveling that it had been him who had reduced Harry to this state. Because Harry was still so completely out of it, Draco tucked him back into his pants and zipped him up, unable to withhold the smirk on his face.
“Oy, Potter,” he called, leaning forward and flicking the boy’s nose. Those green eyes opened, startled, and Harry blushed further.
“Erm…yes?” he replied weakly, still trying to catch his breath.
“Been quite a night for you, hasn’t it?”
Draco’s smirk widened and threatened to stretch into a grin as Harry groaned, still blushing, and covered his face with his hands.
Then, for some reason he couldn’t decipher, he turned his smirk on Seamus. Seamus grinned back, a calculating look in his eyes.
Draco didn’t take the time to figure out what that meant, because he rather enjoyed looking at Harry's embarrassed face instead.
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Phew! Wow, I’m surprised I actually managed to finish it. Y’all are lucky I don’t have class til 4 today. ^.^ Anyhoo, there ya go, no cliffhanger this time, but definitely more…um…character development? Insight into their feelings? Meh, I dunno what I’m trying to say, I’m too tired right now.
I really doubt another chapter will be up anytime soon, because as I’ve been telling people, I have finals that really do need studying for. But they’re over on the 14th, and then I have a month off! w00t! Maybe I’ll whip up something extra special for the holidays, eh? ^.~
Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!!
*~Maxine~*
next
Title: Starts With a Spin
Category: Harry Potter
Genre: Humor/Romance/Smut/Slash
Rating: R
Pairing: H/D
Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain’t mine…if it were…well…Draco certainly wouldn’t be Harry’s enemy forever. ^.~
Summary: It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.
--> All chapters can be found here. <--
previous
~~Chapter 4~~
Practice…practice…practice?
Malfoy wanted them to practice??
Harry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses. His arms were crossed and he could feel his fingers digging hard into his biceps. He vaguely wondered why he felt so nervous.
“Practice what?” he finally managed to get out. The pink in Draco’s face spread and Harry watched in slight amusement as even his ears became consumed in the color.
“You cannot possibly be that dense,” Draco muttered, still staring straight ahead. He didn’t seem to want to look at Harry.
“You mean you actually want to give me a…a…a blowjob more than once?” Harry asked incredulously, and not a little hysterically. Draco’s hands slammed down on the desk and he whipped around to glare at Harry.
“No, Potter, I most definitely do not, but I also don’t want to look like a fool in front of everyone,” he said, voice strangely calm. It unnerved Harry, because it simply didn’t match the burning look in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t you feel more like a fool if everyone wondered why you seemed really good at it?” Harry asked weakly. He felt slightly triumphant when Draco blinked and appeared to think that over.
“No,” he decided, and Harry’s shoulders drooped. “They’ll just think I have natural talent.”
“Or that you’re naturally gay,” came the muttered response. Draco shot him a look and Harry immediately shut up. “So…you want to practice then.” Draco nodded, pinking again. Harry sighed, and fidgeted with his hands, picking at spare threads on his robes. Uncomfortable silence spread through the classroom they were in, and as Harry kicked lightly at the leg of the desk he was sitting on with his heel, he vaguely noted that there was no way he could show up for class now. Then he berated himself for thinking about attending class when there were clearly much more dire things happening at present. “You…um, you don’t want to,” he swallowed, “practice now, do you?”
Draco looked startled, which immediately regressed into slightly panicked, and Harry felt inexplicably relieved. “Oh. No, not now,” he answered. “Class and all, you know,” he continued to explain, with a vague gesture of his hand. Harry decided not to point out that there was no way Draco could make it to his next class by now.
“Tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow??” Draco’s voice cracked, and he coughed, before continuing in a much gruffer tone, “Yeah, tomorrow’s fine. We just need to find a room where no one will,” he shuddered, “walk in on us.”
“The Room of Requirement,” Harry mumbled, not sure if he really wanted to share that with Draco, but then he remembered that he must already be somewhat aware of it because of the previous year…
“What?”
“The Room of Requirement,” Harry repeated, louder this time. “It’s…well, it’s where you captured the lot of us last year, remember?” he asked, voice not a little bitter. Draco sniffed haughtily, raising his chin slightly.
“I seem to vaguely recall something of the sort,” he replied. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Just meet me on the seventh floor tomorrow. After dinner?”
“Can’t, quidditch practice.”
“Well, when’s that over?”
“Eight.”
“Eight then.”
“I’ll have to shower first.”
“Then at eight-thirty!” Harry said tightly, suddenly feeling very tired and grumpy. Draco looked affronted.
“No need to get huffy.”
“Look, Malfoy, this was your idea, I don’t have to show up. You can just practice on…on-”
“If you even dare suggest I try deep-throating inanimate objects, I’ll-”
“That’s not- I mean- UGH. Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry said, exasperatedly. “Look, you’ve already made me miss class and now McGonagall will be on my case… Can I just go?”
“Yes, Potter, you have my permission to leave,” Draco replied mockingly. Harry frowned.
“Tomorrow at eight-thirty, then. Seventh floor.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”
“Right.” Harry glanced at Draco once more, thoughtfully, before turning and exiting the room. Behind him, Draco exhaled deeply, burying his face in his hands.
* * *
Harry paced around the common room for nearly an entire hour the next day after dinner. His actions screamed nervousness, but Ron and Hermione had no idea what he could possibly be nervous about. Adding it up to him fretting about the Saturday parties, they thought it best to not say anything at all, and continued with their homework. Finally, around 7:45, Harry sighed deeply and dumped all of his books and paper back into his bag.
“Where are you off to?” Hermione asked, barely glancing up from her latest essay.
“I can’t concentrate, I need somewhere quieter to work,” Harry answered. He ignored Ron’s raised eyebrow and hoped neither of his friends would mention the fact that the common room was nearly completely silent, as everyone was doing homework. “I’ll just be off then. Um, don’t wait up for me.” He cringed then, thinking that made it sound as if he was going on a date, and that thought made him blush horribly.
Ron and Hermione continued to stare dubiously at him. Harry shifted on his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Well…bye then,” he muttered, and quickly left through the portrait. When he arrived at the section of the wall where the Room of Requirement was, he paused, unsure of how to continue. What type of room, exactly, did one need for this type of…practice? Eventually he settled on the idea of ‘comfortable,’ walked past the wall three times, and stepped through the door that appeared.
His eyes squeezed shut when they saw the king size bed that had placed itself in the back of the room.
“Oh, Merlin,” he mumbled, opening one eye to peek around the room. The rest of it wasn’t so bad. There was a comfortable looking couch in font of a fireplace, which burned low, spreading its heat throughout the room. It was very…cozy, which, really, was what he had been going for. Shrugging, Harry dropped his bag onto the table that was in front of the couch, and plopped down onto the soft cushions. He wondered what time it was, and suddenly spotted a clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Five after eight…he had a while. With a sigh, he unloaded his homework and began his Transfiguration essay.
It was actually nearing 8:45 when Draco finally showed up, but Harry had half expected that, so he didn’t comment. “Found the room, I see,” he said instead, when the boy appeared in the doorway.
“Well, it was the only door in this part of the hall,” Draco replied, smirking. His eyes shifted around the room, landing on the bed and then shooting towards Harry, eyebrows raised. “For some reason, I don’t see this being a very practical room to practice defense spells in,” he said snidely. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the lovely curtains, after all.” Harry felt himself blush, and cursed under his breath.
“The Room of Requirement, Malfoy? It gives you what you require,” he said bitterly. Draco frowned.
“Mind me asking why we require a bed?” he asked darkly, paling slightly under his already blushing face. Harry scowled.
“I didn’t ask for it, the room just put it there.”
“Ah.” Draco’s tone indicated that he clearly didn’t believe the other boy. Harry sighed, and began packing up his books again, moving much slower than was necessary. Apparently it was too fast for Draco, though. “Oh, you needn’t stop on my behalf,” he said quickly. “Homework’s more important.”
“I’ve finished everything for tomorrow. It’s fine,” Harry replied quietly. It was odd, being this civil around Draco. He didn’t want to risk pissing the other boy off, though, especially since he’d soon have his mouth around parts of Harry that he quite liked having, thank-you-very-much.
“Oh.” Draco shifted slightly, looking very uncomfortable, and Harry noticed he was still standing in the open doorway.
“You can come in, you know,” he said, almost amused. “It won’t do to have everyone see you standing there. Once the door shuts no one will be able to find it since the room’s already in use.” Draco still looked uncertain, but stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He slowly moved to the opposite end of the couch and sank gracefully into the seat furthest from Harry, clasping his hands together and leaning on his knees with his elbows. His brow furrowed as he took in the Gryffindor-ish colors of the room, and he seemed to be trying to refrain from saying anything about it.
Harry stared at him, noticing that he was wearing what appeared to be pajamas, though nicer ones than Harry had ever seen. He had on black draw-string pants and a green t-shirt that, quite frankly, looked too nice to be slept in. But then, this was Malfoy… Harry wondered exactly how long the other boy had thought they’d be here, since he was already in his night clothes. He also took that to mean Draco wouldn’t be doing his Prefect rounds later in the night. Harry himself was dressed in a pair of jeans he’d invested in at the end of the summer, after finally growing tired of Dudley’s hand-me-downs, and an unbuttoned, short-sleeved light blue shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. And he still felt underdressed compared to his Slytherin counterpart. He also felt vaguely jealous of the way Draco’s hair fell softly around his ears and barely reached the bottom of his neck. His own still stuck up all over the place, no matter what he tried to do with it.
“Enjoying the view, Potter?” Draco’s voice interrupted his musings, and he frowned.
“Not particularly.” Draco snorted. “So are you going to get started?” This time Draco frowned.
“Am I the only one doing anything?”
“If the dare’s mine, I’ll just wing it,” Harry replied flatly. He wasn’t about to do it more than once, after all. Draco let out a breath.
“Fine.” Then he turned to face Harry, and all at once Harry felt very nervous and dizzy, and embarrassingly enough, his pants started to feel tight. He glanced down in wide-eyed astonishment, and Draco followed his gaze, smirking.
“Eager, much?” he sneered. Harry stared at him for a few seconds, before grinning.
“Malfoy, I’m about to get a blowjob. Boy or girl or whatever, it’s still a mouth, and unless you’re really terrible, it’ll still feel good,” he laughed. Draco grimaced, nodded resignedly, and moved slowly to kneel on the floor in front of Harry. Then he just kind of stared at Harry’s crotch for a bit, clearly uncertain of where to go from there. Harry snickered helplessly, feeling slightly hysterical, his breaths already coming in sharper gasps. He reached down to his zipper, suddenly overly ready to get this started and then done and over with.
“What- wait!” Draco exclaimed, jerking his hands up to stop Harry, but halting just short of touching him. Harry giggled, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Sorry,” he gasped out when Draco stared at him oddly. “Come on, Malfoy! Just get on with it, will you?” Draco bit his bottom lip, and nodded.
“Yeah, alright,” he said quietly, and allowed Harry to unzip his pants. But then Harry paused, embarrassed all over again. “Oh, for Salazar’s sake, you’ve already held mine!” Draco burst out, and yanked Harry’s pants completely off.
“Malfoy!” Harry cried, startled.
“Shut up, Potter, you’ve still got your boxers on.” But then those didn’t matter too much either once Draco reached forward and quickly pulled them off as well. Harry’s hips complied without his permission, rising so that the clothing could be removed.
“Ergh,” Harry mumbled, blushing so bright he felt like he was glowing. Draco released a breath, apparently feeling like he’d overcome at least one obstacle.
“Ready then?” he asked, gently grasping Harry’s cock and staring at it. Harry wished he wouldn’t look at it so closely…
“Erm,” he replied instead, still trying to get used to the feeling of another person touching him so intimately. Draco didn’t wait for any other response, though, and before he could change his mind he was leaning forward and closing him mouth around the top of it.
Harry gasped, hips unintentionally thrusting forward, and he grabbed at the couch material beneath his hands, twisting it in his grip. Draco released him immediately, grimacing, his tongue nearly hanging out of his mouth.
“Augh, gross,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, and took Harry into his mouth again, deeper this time. Harry gasped once again, and then Draco began moving, mouth sliding up and down, tongue swirling as it had the previous Saturday. Harry, whose head had fallen back against the arm of the couch, stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, hardly able to believe this was happening to him. He was breathing deeply, trying to control himself lest he completely fall apart in front of Draco, and one hand was now resting on his stomach beneath his shirt, stroking his skin absently. Unconsciously, the leg Harry had propped up on the couch shifted out more, to allow Draco more room. Then suddenly Draco sucked upwards and Harry gasped again, hips thrusting forward.
Draco gagged and backed up quickly. “Potter!” he growled.
Panting, Harry could only gasp out, “Sorry!...I’m sorry…I can’t…help it.” Draco’s lips curled upwards, and he didn’t really notice that his hand was still doing the job that his mouth was not. When he did notice, he scowled, and replaced it with his mouth again, instead using his hands to hold Harry’s hips in place so he could do that sucking thing again. Harry continued to pant and gasp, and when Draco took as much of Harry as he could manage into his mouth, and slowly sucked back up, he started to let out a low moan. Hearing himself somewhere in the middle of it, he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on one of his fingers to stop himself. His eyes squeezed shut, so he didn’t see Draco’s eyes narrow. On the next suck, his teeth lightly scraped Harry’s skin, and the boy jolted.
“Ouch! Malfoy! What the-” And then he stopped talking because Draco was soothing the skin with his tongue, and really, it hadn’t hurt all that much anyway.
It didn’t take much longer. Harry could suddenly feel every muscle in his body tense and his back arched up off the couch as his world exploded in a blur of sharp pleasure that coursed through his lower stomach and groin. His thighs quivered, and he had to clamp both hands over his mouth so that he could scream silently whilst still biting his finger. Afterwards he lay gasping for breath, listening to Draco choke and cough rapidly.
“Merlin…P-Potter, you c-c-could have warned me!” he complained through his coughs, groaning as well. “Bloody hell, I need something to drink. What the hell does it take to get a glass of water around here? Ew, gross, my mouth, ugh!” A glass suddenly appeared on the table and Draco snatched it up and downed it, gasping when he slammed it back down on the table. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, “I’d take kissing you over that any day.”
“I dunno, I rather enjoyed it,” Harry sighed, finally able to find his voice. Draco looked at him, seeming unusually pleased.
“Oh? Wasn’t bad, then?”
“Malfoy, I think I can safely say that it was the most useful thing your mouth has ever been involved in when it comes to me.” Draco smirked, and Harry belatedly realized he was only feeding the other boy’s ego. “Your boyfriend will be very pleased,” he quickly added, and Draco’s head seemed to visibly deflate as he scowled, sitting back on the couch. They were both quiet for a few minutes, Draco’s arms crossed as he sulked, while Harry remained boneless, draped across his half of the couch. Draco kept glancing at him and then quickly looking away, until Harry finally realized he was still naked from the waist down. Blushing, he sat up quickly, snatching his boxers off the table where they’d been dropped. He pulled them on, feeling extremely lethargic, and once he was covered he couldn’t be bothered to find his pants. He collapsed back onto the couch and tried hard to hold down the silly grin that threatened to overtake him.
“I have to say,” Draco eventually spoke, shifting on the couch again as he’d been doing for the past few minutes, “I excel at everything I attempt to do.” Harry snorted, but didn’t bother retorting. “Um, and you’re sure you don’t want to…want to give it a go?” Harry looked at him incredulously. “I mean, I suppose it wasn’t too horrible,” Draco continued lightly, obviously trying to convince him. Harry just shook his head.
“Nah, I’m fine, thanks,” he smirked, and Draco scowled at him. He shifted again, and that was when Harry finally noticed that Draco was trying to hide his tenting pants from Harry’s sight. Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes softening. Then he raised his chin slightly, spit into his hand, and grinned slightly at the blond. “I suppose I can return the favor, though.” And with that he was lunging at Draco, who looked at him, startled, and yanked his draw-string pants down.
Draco did that squeaking thing again when Harry wrapped his fingers around him, and Harry chuckled. Draco attempted to sneer at him, but was too distracted by the familiar feel of the other boy’s hand stroking him again. He moaned, knees bending so that he could prop up his feet on the couch, and Harry crawled in between his spread legs. Twisting one hand into his own hair, Draco grit his teeth, breath hissing as he inhaled and exhaled. He could feel those green eyes on him, and opened his own silver eyes to return the stare. Harry’s glasses were crooked and looked as if they were about to slip off due to the sweat building up, so Draco reached up with his other hand and removed them all together, dropping them somewhere off to the side. Neither boy was sure what it was, but they couldn’t look away from each other. Their eyes locked, staring half-closed at each other, and only when Draco’s eyes squeezed shut as his head fell back when he came did they stop their staring contest.
Draco was breathing deeply, and Harry sat back, still staring at him. “Happy now?” he asked, amused at how flushed Draco’s appearance was at the moment. Draco glared at him.
“I suppose it will have to do,” he replied. Harry shrugged.
“Right it will, because that’s all you’re getting at the moment.”
“At the moment?”
“Ever. It’s all you’re getting ever,” Harry amended. Draco snorted, but Harry ignored him, staring at his sticky hand instead. “Does it taste awful?” he asked, slightly curious. Draco blinked.
“Does what taste awful?” he inquired, and when Harry shoved his hand in his face he reared back, nose wrinkling. “It’s…it’s not pleasant,” he said carefully. “Not horrible, but not particularly enjoyable either.” Harry continued to stare thoughtfully at his hand, before tentatively licking his finger. Draco snorted in amusement when Harry’s face contorted.
“Ew, gross,” he muttered, and went to wipe his hand on Draco’s leg, but the blond quickly rolled out of the way, landing softly on the ground.
“Don’t you dare, Potter,” he warned, so Harry wiped his hand on the couch instead. Draco snorted again, and pulled his pants all the way up, since they’d never been completely taken off in the first place. “Are we done here?”
“I believe so. Unless you’re feeling up to sucking me off again.” Harry actually looked hopeful, causing Draco to snicker.
“You wish,” he replied, and then strode out of the room, not willing to spend anymore time in Harry’s presence.
* * *
Saturday rolled around, and with it came an anxious Draco. He wasn’t really looking forward to a repeat of Wednesday, especially with other people watching. Harry was just as nervous, half afraid that he would be the one called on to do the dare. He kept zoning out and losing focus on the game.
“Harry, truth or dare?” he heard Hermione ask, far too early in the game for Harry to have even started to relax and become accustomed with the idea of what he and Draco thought they were going to have to do. Not to mention it was Hermione asking him. She wouldn’t dare him to do…that…would she? Come on, this was Hermione. Of course, this was the same girl who, a couple weeks previous, had had no problem flashing her peers… “Harry!”
“Oh!” Harry blinked, coming back to himself. “Sorry. Erm…dare?” Hermione smiled, obviously pleased, and it made Harry nervous because he honestly had no idea what to expect from her.
“Let’s change things up a bit, shall we?” the girl said, and Harry felt a strong urge to hug her. He didn’t care what he had to do, just as long as it didn’t involve Draco and his mouth. Really, anything else would be so much- “I dare you to French kiss Ron.” -worse!
Harry blinked several times in a row and tilted his head to the side, giving Hermione an incredulous look. He vaguely heard Draco snickering in the background, but ignored it. “What? Hermione- no!” he said, lips curling into a slight sneer.
“Why not? I mean, you’ve kissed Malfoy, he’s kissed Malfoy, you might as well kiss each other!” Hermione exclaimed. “Besides, I’ve been kind of curious…”
“Hermione!” Ron shouted, scandalized.
“But…Hermione, it’s weird,” Harry tried to reason. Hermione shook her head slightly.
“You didn’t mind kissing Malfoy,” she pointed out, and Harry was quick to correct her.
“Um, no, I definitely did. And it’s weird because…well…because Ron’s my friend.”
“Well that’s a lame reason,” Draco spoke up, smirking. Harry again ignored him.
“There’s absolutely no reason for me to kiss Ron,” he insisted. “Come on, Hermione, anyone else! That’d just be too…awkward.”
“Really, Hermione, I’ve had enough of kissing boys,” Ron said, nose wrinkling to show his distaste. Hermione sighed.
“Yeah, and I wouldn’t mind kissing a girl at some point,” Harry muttered.
“You kissed me last week,” Hermione immediately reminded him. Harry stared at her flatly.
“That didn’t count!” he exclaimed, and Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Oh really?” she asked, sounding vaguely insulted.
“Erm, that’s not what I meant. Um…just, you know, the whole being friends thing…” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Oh, fine. Well, I dare you to French kiss Seamus, then.”
Somehow, Harry didn’t think that was much better.
* * *
Draco was highly amused by the prospect of Potter having to snog his idiot Gryffindor friends. It vaguely occurred to him that maybe he’d be able to see what was so enthralling about watching the boy kiss someone, be it himself or another.
But then he saw Seamus grin in eager anticipation, and felt something in his stomach tighten. Draco frowned, watching Harry blush, roll his eyes, and turn to his fellow Gryffindor. It somehow seemed much easier for Harry this time around. There was no hesitation as he swiftly moved forward, catching Harry’s grinning lips gently, and Draco could see his mouth opening automatically. Seamus’ eyes closed as he eagerly returned the kiss, and it was only then that Draco remembered that he would be enjoying it, because he was gay.
His stomach tightened further, and he felt his lips curling into a sneer. It was disgusting to watch, really…
Yet he couldn’t look away. There was certainly nothing appealing about the two of them. Really, he could just look away now and ignore the spectacle until it was done and over with. Honestly, it’s not like they would be kissing long anyway; Hermione hadn’t specified an allotted amount of time. Draco’s eyes, however, stayed locked in place.
And something was changing, and he could see it happening, but he wasn’t really sure what it was. Seamus’ hands came up and were gently stroking Harry’s jaw, and the boy quivered slightly under their touch. His head tilted up willingly and Draco could see the Irish boy practically devouring Harry. Draco blinked.
Seamus’ hands lowered, running softly down Harry’s neck and along his shoulders. They followed the path down his arms, fingers curling around his wrists, and Harry shivered slightly. And- what- did he just squeak?? He didn’t do that when-
Draco finally wrenched his eyes away, head turning to glance off to the side. But his eyes only slid back to the display, and they came to rest on Seamus’ hands as his thumbs gently rubbed circles over the inside of Harry’s wrists. Helplessly, he watched as Seamus raised Harry’s wrists above the boy’s head and pushed. Putting up no resistance whatsoever, Harry went with the movement, back landing gently on the floor, and Seamus leaned over him, one leg kneeling between the other boy’s own spread eagle legs. He pinned Harry’s wrists on the floor above his head, and then somehow, Draco wasn’t sure, the kiss became even more intense. Harry arched up into Seamus, a low moan emitting from his throat and-
-and Draco saw red.
He breathed in deeply, eyes narrowing and teeth clenching together. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was furious. That idiot Gryffindor didn’t react like that with him. And he’d said, unable to lie, that Draco was a good kisser! So why, why didn’t Draco have that effect on him?! What was so much better about that stupid half-blood? Surely he couldn’t be that much better than Draco, obvious previous experience with boys aside. It was unconceivable.
“Alright, enough already!” Draco exploded, eyes going wide after he finished because he was sure he’d certainly not meant to say that. “It’s disgusting,” he continued after a second, aware that everyone was staring at him oddly, including Seamus-bloody-Finnigan and Harry-panting-much-too-heavily-Potter. His mouth continued without consent from his brain. “It’s detrimental to my mental health. I shouldn’t be forced to watch something so horrid for so long. Look, even Weasley agrees with me, don’t you Weasel?” Why couldn’t he shut up??
Ron raised an eyebrow at the blond. “S’better than watching you and him,” he said, and Draco suddenly felt very much like punching his stupid face in. Or anyone’s face, really. Especially Hermione’s, because this was all her fault to begin with and she was smirking at him now and she wasn’t allowed to do that because she didn’t smirk in the first place. Pansy as well, who was looking positively giddy and Draco had no idea why.
“Well, go on then, it’s your turn isn’t it, Potter?” he finally asked after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. Harry sat up, finally, and Draco was relieved that he seemed to have his breathing back under control. His face was still flushed, though, and bloody Finnigan looked like he was bloody glowing. It pissed Draco off.
“Right,” Harry breathed, and Draco realized he was still indeed catching his breath. But then he called on that Thomas kid, and his turn was finally over and Draco finally began to relax, stomach unclenching, along with his fists, which he hadn’t known were clenched in the first place. His fingers felt stiff, and he gazed in confusion at the half-crescent marks his fingernails had left along his palms, Dean’s turn going unheard in the background.
* * *
When Draco’s turn finally rolled around, he was slightly surprised that it was the Finch-Fletchley kid who dared him to do it. Not that Draco believed for a second it was all his doing, or even his own idea.
In any case, he tried not to look nervous as he crawled his way over to Harry. But then he was scared he looked too confident and tried to relax, only to find he was then afraid he looked too eager. And underneath all of that, he was terrified someone would be able to tell they’d practiced.
Harry was blushing straight to the roots of his hair, even though they’d known it was coming. Draco supposed it was just the thought of doing it in front of everyone else. Or then it could be because the Weasel looked like he might have a heart attack at any moment. Draco fancied that he was really just jealous. After all, he was amazing.
Then that reminded of him of the earlier episode with Finnigan, and he scowled.
He would make Harry groan this time. Or squeak. Or thrash about wildly beneath him. Or all three. Hmmm…
“Let’s go, Malfoy, we don’t have all night,” he heard Justin say, and he wondered vaguely when Hufflepuffs had started to believe they could boss him around. Releasing a nervous breath, Draco wasted no time shoving Harry’s shaking hands out of the way and undoing his pants. He didn’t even look the other boy in the eye until he was holding his cock in his hand, and then he only smirked, in complete confidence, into Harry’s wide green eyes.
Harry swallowed nervously.
Draco’s smirk widened.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, and Draco completely cut him off by engulfing as much as he possibly could of Harry’s member into his mouth. He immediately sucked his way back up, and he was rewarded with the very gratifying sound of hearing Harry squeak as he inhaled, followed by a gasping breath. That hand went up to cover his mouth again as he collapsed against the wall behind him, legs spreading into a ‘V’ shape, and Draco’s hand immediately followed, snatching Harry’s hand away. Harry looked startled for half a second, but then lost himself in the feel of Draco’s tongue.
The result was a loud, guttural moan that had half the group gasping and the other half blushing. Draco grinned around Harry, and continued with his movements. Harry slid sideways, falling from an upright position against the wall to lie on his back on the floor. Then he arched up, and Draco’s eyes couldn’t leave his lithe figure as it continued to buck up into his mouth, groaning and gasping, hands completely forgotten as they instead entangled themselves into Draco’s hair. The blond gagged a few times, but got through it well enough, managing to swallow the whole of Harry’s essence when it shot into the back of his throat. He sat up, wiping at the bit that had dribbled down his chin, and stared at the disheveled boy below him, marveling that it had been him who had reduced Harry to this state. Because Harry was still so completely out of it, Draco tucked him back into his pants and zipped him up, unable to withhold the smirk on his face.
“Oy, Potter,” he called, leaning forward and flicking the boy’s nose. Those green eyes opened, startled, and Harry blushed further.
“Erm…yes?” he replied weakly, still trying to catch his breath.
“Been quite a night for you, hasn’t it?”
Draco’s smirk widened and threatened to stretch into a grin as Harry groaned, still blushing, and covered his face with his hands.
Then, for some reason he couldn’t decipher, he turned his smirk on Seamus. Seamus grinned back, a calculating look in his eyes.
Draco didn’t take the time to figure out what that meant, because he rather enjoyed looking at Harry's embarrassed face instead.
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Phew! Wow, I’m surprised I actually managed to finish it. Y’all are lucky I don’t have class til 4 today. ^.^ Anyhoo, there ya go, no cliffhanger this time, but definitely more…um…character development? Insight into their feelings? Meh, I dunno what I’m trying to say, I’m too tired right now.
I really doubt another chapter will be up anytime soon, because as I’ve been telling people, I have finals that really do need studying for. But they’re over on the 14th, and then I have a month off! w00t! Maybe I’ll whip up something extra special for the holidays, eh? ^.~
Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!!
*~Maxine~*
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