Fic: What Everyone Wants to Know & Chances Are (H/D, R)
Thanks to Aja and well, honestly, myself, I am now gifted with a Grand Mission.
I have to ask the `general populace', which is to say, all and sundry, anyone who would listen:
What do Harry and Draco think about fucking?
...
Actually, that came out very silly. Aja would've done it better.
~~
Disclaimer: Not mine. Thankfully.
Author's Note: This is the silly one. Or, well, another silly one.
- What Everyone Wants to Know -
"What do I.... -What-?" Harry said faintly.
Malfoy colored slightly, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.
"You heard me." He'd crossed his arms and was blocking the doorway, looking for all the world as if Harry couldn't hex him into oblivion before he could even blink. Since when had Malfoy gotten his confidence back? It was disconcerting.
"I don't think so. Because if I -did- hear you, it'd mean you're either very very stupid or you really really want to be a new species of inverterbrate, and I'm really just too tired to pick which."
"You think you're so witty, don't you, Potter," Malfoy drawled, looking fixedly at the pale quarter-moons of his cuticles as if they fascinated him. They probably did, Harry thought dryly.
"Look," Harry sighed. "Why don't you just-- move aside. No one gets hurt. Can't say I'll forget you'd lost your mind... because you'd done that at birth... but at least you can walk rather than crawl to the Dungeons; though on second thought, you might prefer the crawling. What do you say?"
Malfoy sneered. Malfoy always sneered, and he was sneering now. Harry wasn't impressed.
"It's a simple question, Potter. Surely you've had worse from your dirty little housemates. Just tell me and we can -both- leave."
Harry's whole face twisted, as if in pain. Indeed, his brain was hurting from the imagery that little comment conjured. "If you -dare- say one more thing about.... Oh, who am I kidding. I dare you. Say one more thing about my housemates. Come on, make it worth my while."
"Just how repressed -are- you, anyway?" Malfoy tossed his head back, his hair staying in place aside from the tiny little curl flipping onto his forehead. This new style suited him even less than his old one, if that were possible. "I... promise. This is just between you and me." His mouth curled with what appeared to be distaste, but his eyelid twitched in that obvious way he had when he was lying. "I just need to know. You don't need to know why. Just spill. You must've thought about it at least once or twice. Everyone does, there's no shame in it. I know what I look like."
Harry laughed. And then he laughed, and laughed some more. His stomach began to hurt, and he blamed Malfoy for it with a vengeance.
"I don't," he gasped finally, before collapsing into further fits of mirth.
"Don't -what-, Potter. What? Enunciate, you sound like a sloshed goblin, Merlin!"
"Don't think about it. And please, don't make me. I've just had dinner."
Malfoy looked skeptical. "It's almost curfew. In fact, I ought to take points, since you're still about, aren't you." He smirked triumphantly. "So you have to tell me or you get in yet more trouble. And trust me, what you don't say doesn't stay between us."
"Ooooh," Harry cried. "I'm scared now. The Big Bad Slytherin Prefect is out for blood tonight."
"Grraaargh!" Malfoy sputtered, clearly on the verge of some major breakdown. "Quit it with the cutesy bit! Just fucking tell me already! Or-- you don't want to know! You don't want to know what I can do to you, Potter! You haven't seen -anything-! I'm better now! I can take you! Just watch me!!" Malfoy screamed, dignity forgotten. There was spittle, just like last year.
"Tell you what?" Harry said sweetly. "Take me... how?" His mouth twisted. "Or do you mean...." He couldn't help but smirk, watching Malfoy blush slightly in spite of himself. "You're a light-weight, you know that? Ha."
"Don't fucking `ha' me, Wonder Boy. Just. Say It. Whatdoyouthinkaboutyouandmefucking."
"What was that?"
"FUCK YOU!" Malfoy screamed, whipping out his wand to point it at a startled-looking Harry.
"You're going to hurt yourself like this, Malfoy. Just put that away before it breaks or something. Heh."
"Shut the hell up! You think I -want- to ask you this? My god, how bloody mental can you be?! They all want to know, don't you get it? They're taking bets! They won't let me be! They keep mumbling something about unresolved tension and my trousers! There's only so much a bloke can -take-, all right?! So just tell me you don't fucking want me and we can both memory-charm ourselves into oblivion." Malfoy was panting, eyes wild. "Please. I... I... I'm asking you. I'm -asking- you, Potter. Nicely. I'm asking you nicely. I'm nice and everything! Aren't you supposed to be a Gryffindor? Aren't you happy?! Fuck it crossways, just -say- it!"
Harry chuckled. Malfoy was flushed and shaking and his wand was none too steady. He took pity.
"Maybe," he said, and grinned.
"Maybe?! There's no fucking MAYBE, here!! It's not a yes or no question, you bloody idiot!" Malfoy advanced on Harry until they were face-to-face, and Malfoy was literally breathing down Harry's neck. Harry supposed he should feel... something. There was some sort of pleasant tingle, but that might just be the cornish hen beginning to digest.
Harry stepped away, evading Malfoy and side-stepping to the side, so that he was the one breathing down Malfoy's neck now. Malfoy cocked his head to the side a little, not acting as if he noticed. Possibly, he didn't.
"I don't think about it at all," Harry said, smirking as Malfoy closed his eyes briefly in a moment of relief. "I just wank to it all the time."
Malfoy jumped, yelping in alarm as his hand flew to his chest. "Oh-- my-- GOD--" he wailed, turning a quite unbecoming shade of puce. It clashed with his hair.
Harry just started laughing again.
~~~
and another, actually.... whoa...
~~~
Disclaimer: not mine, Valentine.
Dedication: to Aja, who needs to write more porn herself, actually.
- chances are -
"You know you want to fuck me, Potter. Here is your chance."
He was bruised and dirty and most probably going to die tomorrow, but Malfoy certainly still had a flair for the dramatic. Then again, it was Harry who kept insisting they could find them any day now, that they needed to stay within the confines of their concealment spell, needed to be more careful about setting their traps for game. The paranoid fantasies were mostly his own, truth be told. Malfoy was just taking advantage of that, of course, though for no discernable reason except to be a prat. Not that Malfoy needed more of a reason.
Harry pretended to consider.
"Well... let me now ponder your many virtues before replying.... Okay, done."
Malfoy's eyebrow quirked in a slight flash of amusement. "Still in denial, obviously. You know, you might not get another chance like this. Tomorrow I might be a bit too... dead for this. Unless you're into that sort of thing."
Harry just kept stirring the pot, even though the stupid stew had been done for awhile now. He'd never appreciated house-elves quite enough, he thought morosely. He was really going to miss them now that they had finally had it with wizards. Harry sighed.
"What do you have to sigh about, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "I'm the one with a rapidly shrinking license to live here. My father will find us, if not tomorrow then the day after. The last thing I'll see is his fucking superior smile as he tells me how very much I've embarrassed him. And you won't even suck me. It's shameful."
Harry snorted. "Oh yeah, tell me another one. And while you're at it, cook breakfast. I'm really sick of boiled eggs."
"I can't cook," Malfoy said, looking disinterestedly at the copper pot and poking it with a stick. "You, at least, must be used to degrading yourself like this, but it takes its toll, Potter. I will never be the same man again." He shuddered, tossing the stick into the darkness, where it made a soft noise against the thick material of the tent.
"And thank Merlin for that, considering you weren't one to start with."
Malfoy looked as if he would try to poison him with a glance, but it was too much effort. "You just don't know what you're missing." He sniffed. "And now you never will, because I don't fuck anyone without a proper attitude."
"So what you mean is, you only fuck those who're related to you. Not that that would limit your choice all that much, I suppose."
"Now I'm never cooking. Not even if you're mortally wounded. Not even if you beg me. Not even if you suck for your supper. You've fixed your doom, Potter."
"See? You can't even take yourself seriously anymore. I rest my case." Harry turned away to hunt for last night's transfigured soup-spoon.
"What would you know about what I do and do not take seriously? And are you looking for that bloody soup-spoon? I turned it into an ice-cream cone and had it for breakfast. Quite good, actually."
Harry gasped, and Malfoy unsuccessfully smothered a giggle. "Fall for that every time, Potter. Every. Fucking. Time. It's getting old, you know."
"Yeah, well, everything about this is getting old. We've been stuck here for a month, Malfoy. A month! Soon I'll fuck the badgers and the bears, forget you! It's unfair to even ask, not that I'd expect anything else of course."
Malfoy wrinkled his nose, fishing out a soup-spoon from his still-serviceable robes and dipping it gingerly into the stew. "Never mention fucking a Hufflepuff in my presence, Potter. It puts me right off my meal, such as it is."
"Ugh. Now I'll have to make a new spoon, too. Who knows where that's been."
"Oooh, you're improving. I daresay, soon you'll be virtually unstoppable, Potter. Not." Malfoy smirked, hunting for the scattered bits of rabbit in the rather thin-looking soup with surprising interest.
"You didn't even mean that, did you," Harry said, sighing as he settled on just dipping a cup into the broth.
"Mean what," Malfoy mumbled, what appeared to be a rabbit's foot sticking out between his teeth.
"You know what, you great bloody poof." Harry coughed, burning his tongue as he swallowed too much all at once. "Owwww...."
"Oh, that," Malfoy said calmly, blowing gently on his spoon. Harry scowled. "I always mean it when I proposition someone, Potter. It's just good etiquette. Besides, who else I'm going to fuck? The rabbit's already done for."
Harry grimaced, suddenly not very hungry anymore. "You just know how to get a bloke all excited, you know that?"
"Hey, I think I'm doing rather well, actually. Didn't even know you swung that way until just now, did I?" Malfoy smirked.
"You-- what?! But... but.... You... We...." Harry colored, ducking his head and stirring the soup with another of their sanitized sticks, even though the fire had long since died.
"Er. No. That... that wasn't me. Longbottom told me he was sorry though, Potter. Sometimes, the dreams are just too much for one to contain. You know how it goes."
Harry paled. "You're lying," he said flatly.
"Well... yes. But it's fun to see you squirm. There isn't a lot of entertainment around here, if you haven't noticed." And suddenly, Harry did notice. Malfoy was leaning heavily against the stool at his back, and his hair stuck to his forehead limply, and it was written all over him, all of it. It was just a matter of time, they both knew it.
Harry felt strange, almost as if his own skin was foreign to him at that moment. He reached across the small space between them, leaned over slightly to the left and let his hand brush back Malfoy's hair. There was nothing he could say right now, he knew that, too.... And Malfoy's breath caught for a second, and maybe there was something, but that was just another lie.
The slight, feral boy next to him was looking at Harry as if he'd burst his last illusion, and Harry didn't know why, and it hurt. Hadn't Malfoy said....
When he spoke, it was in a rasping, intense whisper. "Don't you. Ever. Do that again. Do you understand me? Dead or alive, I will make sure you don't have a fucking moment's rest if you so much as look at me that way again."
Something felt emptier than usual in Harry's stomach, and he just looked away, nodding. He'd grown used to the nausea and inherent sickness he felt around an active Death Eater, but this wasn't that. This wasn't worth fighting about. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, anyway. It wasn't as if either one of them could walk away. They were going to pay for this in resentful stares and awkward silences and seething sparks for hours, if not days, and he had only his own stupidity to thank. Malfoy said a lot of things. So did he. What did it matter, now?
"Just-- forget it," Harry said softly.
"Forget it? You fucking idiot. No. Fuck you. No. I can't forget it. You never let me forget it. The way you've been looking at me lately. Do you think I haven't noticed? Do you think I'm blind, just because I'm half-broken and there isn't a mediwizard that would possibly find us here? I've never been stupid, Potter. Unlike you I don't pretend I don't want the things I do. I just know better now, that's all. So you stay the fuck away from me and stop wanking while I'm awake and we'll both be fine, won't we?"
Harry knew he should be angry, he should whip out his wand and add yet another injury to Malfoy's growing collection, but all he felt was cold. "Incendio," he said, igniting a nearby splinter of half-rotting wood with particular flourish. There was a lengthening pause, and if Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought Malfoy had fallen asleep in his exhaustion. He was always exhausted. "I can't," he said.
Malfoy laughed humorlessly, not opening his eyes as his head rested limply on the smooth seat of his transfigured stool-- an early accomplishment. "Can't what, Potter? Keep it in your pants before I conk out? Didn't know you had that particular problem. Suppose it can't be helped, though."
"No," Harry growled. "And don't push it, Malfoy. Just because I won't hurt you right now doesn't mean I'll just accept the abuse you throw at me."
"Oh, that's a good one. I abuse you, do I. Ha." Malfoy's lips curled slightly, and his head inclined to the side, almost coyly. "Well, good. Glad to know my stay here in hell hadn't been completely pointless."
"I'm tired too, you know. Staying here for week after week, with only you for company. It hasn't been a picnic, Malfoy."
"Oh, it hasn't, has it. Well, I guess you can feast on my corpse after I'm gone. Or fuck it, knowing you. Be gentle, though, it's my first time. I would've wanted it to be good."
"You're not going to shock me, Malfoy, so just stop trying. You need some sleep, and so do I."
"Ohh. Desperate for the nightly wank, are you. I see."
"God-fucking-damn it, Malfoy! It's not like I'm the only one!" Harry burst out, immediately turning away and flushing all the way down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. It was mostly anger, though, and it felt good to not even try anymore. "And you know what, fuck you! I'm tired of your stupid games and your stupid pretense, as if you're not moaning into your hand and dry-humping your fucking blanket every time. I wasn't even thinking about you until I heard you, arsehole!"
Malfoy wasn't faking sleep anymore. He was staring right at him, his eyes feverishly bright as he rose onto his knees, and there was just something... something in that look that hit Harry like a shot of firewhiskey, burning heat pooling in his stomach. Harry's eyes felt heavy and his breathing slowed, everything around him taking on a shimmering, glowing sort of blur. He could almost taste Malfoy's breath on his tongue, and they hadn't even moved. He wasn't moaning. Malfoy was biting his lip and neither of them were moaning, but that just made every single audible sound three times as intense. He wasn't thinking anymore, just craving, and he still had no idea what was going on in Malfoy's mind. Harry couldn't seem to move. Malfoy's eyes were on him and they felt so tangible, so real, that he could almost feel them like phantom fingertips smoothing across his cheek.
Harry hissed.
His hand shot out, grabbing Malfoy's dirty robes and pulling. It was a split second of fear, because suddenly those eyes were right there, and he was still looking and Harry thought he might just faint or come or something even more ridiculous, and then....
Harry's head hit the hard, compacted ground with a soft thud, and Malfoy was on top of him, pinning him with startling deftness, his fingers like claws on Harry's shoulders. It didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as Malfoy didn't leave; the weight on top of him seemed like too much of a comfort all at once. It couldn't be real, but if it wasn't, Harry didn't want to know. This felt good. Right and wrong didn't apply right now, not when Harry had been harboring a Death Eater and evading the well-meaning efforts of his enemies and friends alike for weeks. It hadn't been about him at first, of course; it had been just an accident. Or maybe it was fate. Harry didn't know and didn't care. As long as Malfoy moved....
Malfoy obliged him, undulating against his body and licking a trail up his neck with no warning, making Harry keen softly and buck underneath him.
"Easy, Potter," Malfoy whispered harshly, stabbing his tongue into Harry's ear. Harry whined, his legs going up around Malfoy's waist automatically. "We have all night," he added, mouth warm and open against sensitized skin.
"Fuck," Harry breathed, his hips grinding upward helplessly as the tongue rolled all along his ear, darting inside in quick little thrusts. "Stop.... God... Please...." He didn't really know why he was saying that except that it felt too good and Malfoy's body was burning up against him and he was rubbing back now and his cock felt so raw yet so good... so desperate and....
"Do you want me to fuck you now, Potter?" Malfoy growled, Harry's earlobe caught between his teeth. He jerked his head roughly, making Harry wince in pain until little stars danced in front of his eyes, but Harry just ground up harder, feeling his cock begin to twitch.
"Need... yesssss," he gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head as Malfoy's mouth moved down his neck, a hand pushing down between them to cup Harry's heated erection through the rough, filthy fabric of the trousers he still wore.
"Do you need this?" Malfoy hissed, tongue working in tight little circles on that spot on the side of Harry's neck that made his whole body shudder as if wracked with an Unforgivable.
Harry's whines and tiny breathless moans were completely incoherent by now, and he just clutched at Malfoy's sides with his thighs, squeezing harder and grunting in satisfaction. Just a little more friction....
"Do you need my cock--"
Harry sobbed something and bucked wildly against Malfoy's hand as it tightened around him--
"in you, Potter--"
Harry snarled, his frustration reaching an unbearable pitch.
"Will you shut the fuck up?!" he cried, using a sudden surge of strength to flip Malfoy over somehow, straddling his hips and grinning fiendishly at the look on Malfoy's face. "Not that easy, Malfoy," he whispered, pushing back involuntarily as Malfoy jerked against him. The bulge of the other's cock was unmistakeable, burning him even through the layers of clothes between them. Harry's hands pressed down on Malfoy's chest and he tried to get used to the feelings coiling madly inside him like a dozen hissing snakes, though he didn't think he ever would.
"Make me," Malfoy snarled back, his eyes wide and clear, not afraid. Harry wasn't the only one looking; it was exhilarating and not a little frightening, but mostly it was just-- real. "Do it. Try and take me, Potter."
It was a strange sort of irony, hearing those words from Malfoy's lips now, of all times. They felt almost... reclaimed, somehow.
Grinning madly, Harry collapsed his weight against him, his fingers turning to twist around the other's hard nipples, pulling. Malfoy shuddered, his breath escaping on a hiss. This wasn't a game after all.
"Too late, Malfoy. I took you weeks ago. Your father is just-- going to have to-- wait," Harry said fiercely, rubbing his cheek against Malfoy's absently, over and over. "Now. You're mine now." The words were mostly lost in Malfoy's too-sweet mouth, smothered against his tongue, rubbed like oily fingers into his skin.
They were both moaning, bitter and sweet in a heady swirling mix, their tongues moving frantically in a rush of heat and suction and brutality. It was Harry who jammed their hips together and screamed first, biting down viciously on Malfoy's bottom lip as his cock pulsed, streaming bursts of liquid heat turning merely wet and sticky, making his trousers cling. Malfoy was crying, Harry thought distantly, his hips still moving in the aftershocks. Malfoy's crying and he's coming, and-- ohgod-- right beneath him....
Harry was almost more excited to feel the other's cock throb against his own than he was to have blown his load. He could barely breathe, and at some point in those incoherent moments he'd begun to kiss everywhere he could reach on Malfoy's face, because it really seemed like he could devour him right then, if he wanted. He wanted.
Malfoy's skin was wet and tasted salty-sweet, and it was really nothing special except for the fact that here he was, tasting it.
There had long since been total darkness all around them, even the embers having burnt down to dust. Maybe this was his chance.
His eyes were free of sleep, his mind sharp as he lay there, pillowed on Draco Malfoy's chest.
It was as if he'd finally woken up from a long, tiring dream and realized where he was: in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, more or less. With Malfoy.
Harry also realized he would get up as soon as the sun came up, go out to face all the rest of his chances. He'd thought he could just... take control, find another option when none was given; and maybe he could still do that, He'd made his choices long ago, and it was almost silly to think he could just back out. Maybe they couldn't stop him, but it wasn't about that. This was a war, and someone always had to lose. Being almost content like this just made him more determined not to be the one found huddling on ratty blankets in the arms of his sometime nemesis.
It wasn't just their game, was it. He'd started his own game; he would make his own chances.
It was about time he finished it, he thought. It was late.
Maybe not too late for his chances to follow.
.......................................
I have to ask the `general populace', which is to say, all and sundry, anyone who would listen:
What do Harry and Draco think about fucking?
...
Actually, that came out very silly. Aja would've done it better.
~~
Disclaimer: Not mine. Thankfully.
Author's Note: This is the silly one. Or, well, another silly one.
- What Everyone Wants to Know -
"What do I.... -What-?" Harry said faintly.
Malfoy colored slightly, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.
"You heard me." He'd crossed his arms and was blocking the doorway, looking for all the world as if Harry couldn't hex him into oblivion before he could even blink. Since when had Malfoy gotten his confidence back? It was disconcerting.
"I don't think so. Because if I -did- hear you, it'd mean you're either very very stupid or you really really want to be a new species of inverterbrate, and I'm really just too tired to pick which."
"You think you're so witty, don't you, Potter," Malfoy drawled, looking fixedly at the pale quarter-moons of his cuticles as if they fascinated him. They probably did, Harry thought dryly.
"Look," Harry sighed. "Why don't you just-- move aside. No one gets hurt. Can't say I'll forget you'd lost your mind... because you'd done that at birth... but at least you can walk rather than crawl to the Dungeons; though on second thought, you might prefer the crawling. What do you say?"
Malfoy sneered. Malfoy always sneered, and he was sneering now. Harry wasn't impressed.
"It's a simple question, Potter. Surely you've had worse from your dirty little housemates. Just tell me and we can -both- leave."
Harry's whole face twisted, as if in pain. Indeed, his brain was hurting from the imagery that little comment conjured. "If you -dare- say one more thing about.... Oh, who am I kidding. I dare you. Say one more thing about my housemates. Come on, make it worth my while."
"Just how repressed -are- you, anyway?" Malfoy tossed his head back, his hair staying in place aside from the tiny little curl flipping onto his forehead. This new style suited him even less than his old one, if that were possible. "I... promise. This is just between you and me." His mouth curled with what appeared to be distaste, but his eyelid twitched in that obvious way he had when he was lying. "I just need to know. You don't need to know why. Just spill. You must've thought about it at least once or twice. Everyone does, there's no shame in it. I know what I look like."
Harry laughed. And then he laughed, and laughed some more. His stomach began to hurt, and he blamed Malfoy for it with a vengeance.
"I don't," he gasped finally, before collapsing into further fits of mirth.
"Don't -what-, Potter. What? Enunciate, you sound like a sloshed goblin, Merlin!"
"Don't think about it. And please, don't make me. I've just had dinner."
Malfoy looked skeptical. "It's almost curfew. In fact, I ought to take points, since you're still about, aren't you." He smirked triumphantly. "So you have to tell me or you get in yet more trouble. And trust me, what you don't say doesn't stay between us."
"Ooooh," Harry cried. "I'm scared now. The Big Bad Slytherin Prefect is out for blood tonight."
"Grraaargh!" Malfoy sputtered, clearly on the verge of some major breakdown. "Quit it with the cutesy bit! Just fucking tell me already! Or-- you don't want to know! You don't want to know what I can do to you, Potter! You haven't seen -anything-! I'm better now! I can take you! Just watch me!!" Malfoy screamed, dignity forgotten. There was spittle, just like last year.
"Tell you what?" Harry said sweetly. "Take me... how?" His mouth twisted. "Or do you mean...." He couldn't help but smirk, watching Malfoy blush slightly in spite of himself. "You're a light-weight, you know that? Ha."
"Don't fucking `ha' me, Wonder Boy. Just. Say It. Whatdoyouthinkaboutyouandmefucking."
"What was that?"
"FUCK YOU!" Malfoy screamed, whipping out his wand to point it at a startled-looking Harry.
"You're going to hurt yourself like this, Malfoy. Just put that away before it breaks or something. Heh."
"Shut the hell up! You think I -want- to ask you this? My god, how bloody mental can you be?! They all want to know, don't you get it? They're taking bets! They won't let me be! They keep mumbling something about unresolved tension and my trousers! There's only so much a bloke can -take-, all right?! So just tell me you don't fucking want me and we can both memory-charm ourselves into oblivion." Malfoy was panting, eyes wild. "Please. I... I... I'm asking you. I'm -asking- you, Potter. Nicely. I'm asking you nicely. I'm nice and everything! Aren't you supposed to be a Gryffindor? Aren't you happy?! Fuck it crossways, just -say- it!"
Harry chuckled. Malfoy was flushed and shaking and his wand was none too steady. He took pity.
"Maybe," he said, and grinned.
"Maybe?! There's no fucking MAYBE, here!! It's not a yes or no question, you bloody idiot!" Malfoy advanced on Harry until they were face-to-face, and Malfoy was literally breathing down Harry's neck. Harry supposed he should feel... something. There was some sort of pleasant tingle, but that might just be the cornish hen beginning to digest.
Harry stepped away, evading Malfoy and side-stepping to the side, so that he was the one breathing down Malfoy's neck now. Malfoy cocked his head to the side a little, not acting as if he noticed. Possibly, he didn't.
"I don't think about it at all," Harry said, smirking as Malfoy closed his eyes briefly in a moment of relief. "I just wank to it all the time."
Malfoy jumped, yelping in alarm as his hand flew to his chest. "Oh-- my-- GOD--" he wailed, turning a quite unbecoming shade of puce. It clashed with his hair.
Harry just started laughing again.
~~~
and another, actually.... whoa...
~~~
Disclaimer: not mine, Valentine.
Dedication: to Aja, who needs to write more porn herself, actually.
- chances are -
"You know you want to fuck me, Potter. Here is your chance."
He was bruised and dirty and most probably going to die tomorrow, but Malfoy certainly still had a flair for the dramatic. Then again, it was Harry who kept insisting they could find them any day now, that they needed to stay within the confines of their concealment spell, needed to be more careful about setting their traps for game. The paranoid fantasies were mostly his own, truth be told. Malfoy was just taking advantage of that, of course, though for no discernable reason except to be a prat. Not that Malfoy needed more of a reason.
Harry pretended to consider.
"Well... let me now ponder your many virtues before replying.... Okay, done."
Malfoy's eyebrow quirked in a slight flash of amusement. "Still in denial, obviously. You know, you might not get another chance like this. Tomorrow I might be a bit too... dead for this. Unless you're into that sort of thing."
Harry just kept stirring the pot, even though the stupid stew had been done for awhile now. He'd never appreciated house-elves quite enough, he thought morosely. He was really going to miss them now that they had finally had it with wizards. Harry sighed.
"What do you have to sigh about, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "I'm the one with a rapidly shrinking license to live here. My father will find us, if not tomorrow then the day after. The last thing I'll see is his fucking superior smile as he tells me how very much I've embarrassed him. And you won't even suck me. It's shameful."
Harry snorted. "Oh yeah, tell me another one. And while you're at it, cook breakfast. I'm really sick of boiled eggs."
"I can't cook," Malfoy said, looking disinterestedly at the copper pot and poking it with a stick. "You, at least, must be used to degrading yourself like this, but it takes its toll, Potter. I will never be the same man again." He shuddered, tossing the stick into the darkness, where it made a soft noise against the thick material of the tent.
"And thank Merlin for that, considering you weren't one to start with."
Malfoy looked as if he would try to poison him with a glance, but it was too much effort. "You just don't know what you're missing." He sniffed. "And now you never will, because I don't fuck anyone without a proper attitude."
"So what you mean is, you only fuck those who're related to you. Not that that would limit your choice all that much, I suppose."
"Now I'm never cooking. Not even if you're mortally wounded. Not even if you beg me. Not even if you suck for your supper. You've fixed your doom, Potter."
"See? You can't even take yourself seriously anymore. I rest my case." Harry turned away to hunt for last night's transfigured soup-spoon.
"What would you know about what I do and do not take seriously? And are you looking for that bloody soup-spoon? I turned it into an ice-cream cone and had it for breakfast. Quite good, actually."
Harry gasped, and Malfoy unsuccessfully smothered a giggle. "Fall for that every time, Potter. Every. Fucking. Time. It's getting old, you know."
"Yeah, well, everything about this is getting old. We've been stuck here for a month, Malfoy. A month! Soon I'll fuck the badgers and the bears, forget you! It's unfair to even ask, not that I'd expect anything else of course."
Malfoy wrinkled his nose, fishing out a soup-spoon from his still-serviceable robes and dipping it gingerly into the stew. "Never mention fucking a Hufflepuff in my presence, Potter. It puts me right off my meal, such as it is."
"Ugh. Now I'll have to make a new spoon, too. Who knows where that's been."
"Oooh, you're improving. I daresay, soon you'll be virtually unstoppable, Potter. Not." Malfoy smirked, hunting for the scattered bits of rabbit in the rather thin-looking soup with surprising interest.
"You didn't even mean that, did you," Harry said, sighing as he settled on just dipping a cup into the broth.
"Mean what," Malfoy mumbled, what appeared to be a rabbit's foot sticking out between his teeth.
"You know what, you great bloody poof." Harry coughed, burning his tongue as he swallowed too much all at once. "Owwww...."
"Oh, that," Malfoy said calmly, blowing gently on his spoon. Harry scowled. "I always mean it when I proposition someone, Potter. It's just good etiquette. Besides, who else I'm going to fuck? The rabbit's already done for."
Harry grimaced, suddenly not very hungry anymore. "You just know how to get a bloke all excited, you know that?"
"Hey, I think I'm doing rather well, actually. Didn't even know you swung that way until just now, did I?" Malfoy smirked.
"You-- what?! But... but.... You... We...." Harry colored, ducking his head and stirring the soup with another of their sanitized sticks, even though the fire had long since died.
"Er. No. That... that wasn't me. Longbottom told me he was sorry though, Potter. Sometimes, the dreams are just too much for one to contain. You know how it goes."
Harry paled. "You're lying," he said flatly.
"Well... yes. But it's fun to see you squirm. There isn't a lot of entertainment around here, if you haven't noticed." And suddenly, Harry did notice. Malfoy was leaning heavily against the stool at his back, and his hair stuck to his forehead limply, and it was written all over him, all of it. It was just a matter of time, they both knew it.
Harry felt strange, almost as if his own skin was foreign to him at that moment. He reached across the small space between them, leaned over slightly to the left and let his hand brush back Malfoy's hair. There was nothing he could say right now, he knew that, too.... And Malfoy's breath caught for a second, and maybe there was something, but that was just another lie.
The slight, feral boy next to him was looking at Harry as if he'd burst his last illusion, and Harry didn't know why, and it hurt. Hadn't Malfoy said....
When he spoke, it was in a rasping, intense whisper. "Don't you. Ever. Do that again. Do you understand me? Dead or alive, I will make sure you don't have a fucking moment's rest if you so much as look at me that way again."
Something felt emptier than usual in Harry's stomach, and he just looked away, nodding. He'd grown used to the nausea and inherent sickness he felt around an active Death Eater, but this wasn't that. This wasn't worth fighting about. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, anyway. It wasn't as if either one of them could walk away. They were going to pay for this in resentful stares and awkward silences and seething sparks for hours, if not days, and he had only his own stupidity to thank. Malfoy said a lot of things. So did he. What did it matter, now?
"Just-- forget it," Harry said softly.
"Forget it? You fucking idiot. No. Fuck you. No. I can't forget it. You never let me forget it. The way you've been looking at me lately. Do you think I haven't noticed? Do you think I'm blind, just because I'm half-broken and there isn't a mediwizard that would possibly find us here? I've never been stupid, Potter. Unlike you I don't pretend I don't want the things I do. I just know better now, that's all. So you stay the fuck away from me and stop wanking while I'm awake and we'll both be fine, won't we?"
Harry knew he should be angry, he should whip out his wand and add yet another injury to Malfoy's growing collection, but all he felt was cold. "Incendio," he said, igniting a nearby splinter of half-rotting wood with particular flourish. There was a lengthening pause, and if Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought Malfoy had fallen asleep in his exhaustion. He was always exhausted. "I can't," he said.
Malfoy laughed humorlessly, not opening his eyes as his head rested limply on the smooth seat of his transfigured stool-- an early accomplishment. "Can't what, Potter? Keep it in your pants before I conk out? Didn't know you had that particular problem. Suppose it can't be helped, though."
"No," Harry growled. "And don't push it, Malfoy. Just because I won't hurt you right now doesn't mean I'll just accept the abuse you throw at me."
"Oh, that's a good one. I abuse you, do I. Ha." Malfoy's lips curled slightly, and his head inclined to the side, almost coyly. "Well, good. Glad to know my stay here in hell hadn't been completely pointless."
"I'm tired too, you know. Staying here for week after week, with only you for company. It hasn't been a picnic, Malfoy."
"Oh, it hasn't, has it. Well, I guess you can feast on my corpse after I'm gone. Or fuck it, knowing you. Be gentle, though, it's my first time. I would've wanted it to be good."
"You're not going to shock me, Malfoy, so just stop trying. You need some sleep, and so do I."
"Ohh. Desperate for the nightly wank, are you. I see."
"God-fucking-damn it, Malfoy! It's not like I'm the only one!" Harry burst out, immediately turning away and flushing all the way down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. It was mostly anger, though, and it felt good to not even try anymore. "And you know what, fuck you! I'm tired of your stupid games and your stupid pretense, as if you're not moaning into your hand and dry-humping your fucking blanket every time. I wasn't even thinking about you until I heard you, arsehole!"
Malfoy wasn't faking sleep anymore. He was staring right at him, his eyes feverishly bright as he rose onto his knees, and there was just something... something in that look that hit Harry like a shot of firewhiskey, burning heat pooling in his stomach. Harry's eyes felt heavy and his breathing slowed, everything around him taking on a shimmering, glowing sort of blur. He could almost taste Malfoy's breath on his tongue, and they hadn't even moved. He wasn't moaning. Malfoy was biting his lip and neither of them were moaning, but that just made every single audible sound three times as intense. He wasn't thinking anymore, just craving, and he still had no idea what was going on in Malfoy's mind. Harry couldn't seem to move. Malfoy's eyes were on him and they felt so tangible, so real, that he could almost feel them like phantom fingertips smoothing across his cheek.
Harry hissed.
His hand shot out, grabbing Malfoy's dirty robes and pulling. It was a split second of fear, because suddenly those eyes were right there, and he was still looking and Harry thought he might just faint or come or something even more ridiculous, and then....
Harry's head hit the hard, compacted ground with a soft thud, and Malfoy was on top of him, pinning him with startling deftness, his fingers like claws on Harry's shoulders. It didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as Malfoy didn't leave; the weight on top of him seemed like too much of a comfort all at once. It couldn't be real, but if it wasn't, Harry didn't want to know. This felt good. Right and wrong didn't apply right now, not when Harry had been harboring a Death Eater and evading the well-meaning efforts of his enemies and friends alike for weeks. It hadn't been about him at first, of course; it had been just an accident. Or maybe it was fate. Harry didn't know and didn't care. As long as Malfoy moved....
Malfoy obliged him, undulating against his body and licking a trail up his neck with no warning, making Harry keen softly and buck underneath him.
"Easy, Potter," Malfoy whispered harshly, stabbing his tongue into Harry's ear. Harry whined, his legs going up around Malfoy's waist automatically. "We have all night," he added, mouth warm and open against sensitized skin.
"Fuck," Harry breathed, his hips grinding upward helplessly as the tongue rolled all along his ear, darting inside in quick little thrusts. "Stop.... God... Please...." He didn't really know why he was saying that except that it felt too good and Malfoy's body was burning up against him and he was rubbing back now and his cock felt so raw yet so good... so desperate and....
"Do you want me to fuck you now, Potter?" Malfoy growled, Harry's earlobe caught between his teeth. He jerked his head roughly, making Harry wince in pain until little stars danced in front of his eyes, but Harry just ground up harder, feeling his cock begin to twitch.
"Need... yesssss," he gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head as Malfoy's mouth moved down his neck, a hand pushing down between them to cup Harry's heated erection through the rough, filthy fabric of the trousers he still wore.
"Do you need this?" Malfoy hissed, tongue working in tight little circles on that spot on the side of Harry's neck that made his whole body shudder as if wracked with an Unforgivable.
Harry's whines and tiny breathless moans were completely incoherent by now, and he just clutched at Malfoy's sides with his thighs, squeezing harder and grunting in satisfaction. Just a little more friction....
"Do you need my cock--"
Harry sobbed something and bucked wildly against Malfoy's hand as it tightened around him--
"in you, Potter--"
Harry snarled, his frustration reaching an unbearable pitch.
"Will you shut the fuck up?!" he cried, using a sudden surge of strength to flip Malfoy over somehow, straddling his hips and grinning fiendishly at the look on Malfoy's face. "Not that easy, Malfoy," he whispered, pushing back involuntarily as Malfoy jerked against him. The bulge of the other's cock was unmistakeable, burning him even through the layers of clothes between them. Harry's hands pressed down on Malfoy's chest and he tried to get used to the feelings coiling madly inside him like a dozen hissing snakes, though he didn't think he ever would.
"Make me," Malfoy snarled back, his eyes wide and clear, not afraid. Harry wasn't the only one looking; it was exhilarating and not a little frightening, but mostly it was just-- real. "Do it. Try and take me, Potter."
It was a strange sort of irony, hearing those words from Malfoy's lips now, of all times. They felt almost... reclaimed, somehow.
Grinning madly, Harry collapsed his weight against him, his fingers turning to twist around the other's hard nipples, pulling. Malfoy shuddered, his breath escaping on a hiss. This wasn't a game after all.
"Too late, Malfoy. I took you weeks ago. Your father is just-- going to have to-- wait," Harry said fiercely, rubbing his cheek against Malfoy's absently, over and over. "Now. You're mine now." The words were mostly lost in Malfoy's too-sweet mouth, smothered against his tongue, rubbed like oily fingers into his skin.
They were both moaning, bitter and sweet in a heady swirling mix, their tongues moving frantically in a rush of heat and suction and brutality. It was Harry who jammed their hips together and screamed first, biting down viciously on Malfoy's bottom lip as his cock pulsed, streaming bursts of liquid heat turning merely wet and sticky, making his trousers cling. Malfoy was crying, Harry thought distantly, his hips still moving in the aftershocks. Malfoy's crying and he's coming, and-- ohgod-- right beneath him....
Harry was almost more excited to feel the other's cock throb against his own than he was to have blown his load. He could barely breathe, and at some point in those incoherent moments he'd begun to kiss everywhere he could reach on Malfoy's face, because it really seemed like he could devour him right then, if he wanted. He wanted.
Malfoy's skin was wet and tasted salty-sweet, and it was really nothing special except for the fact that here he was, tasting it.
There had long since been total darkness all around them, even the embers having burnt down to dust. Maybe this was his chance.
His eyes were free of sleep, his mind sharp as he lay there, pillowed on Draco Malfoy's chest.
It was as if he'd finally woken up from a long, tiring dream and realized where he was: in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, more or less. With Malfoy.
Harry also realized he would get up as soon as the sun came up, go out to face all the rest of his chances. He'd thought he could just... take control, find another option when none was given; and maybe he could still do that, He'd made his choices long ago, and it was almost silly to think he could just back out. Maybe they couldn't stop him, but it wasn't about that. This was a war, and someone always had to lose. Being almost content like this just made him more determined not to be the one found huddling on ratty blankets in the arms of his sometime nemesis.
It wasn't just their game, was it. He'd started his own game; he would make his own chances.
It was about time he finished it, he thought. It was late.
Maybe not too late for his chances to follow.
.......................................