Fic: H/D - Sucker
Stand-Alone Fic
Title : Sucker
Rating: Fan Rated Adults Only (to be safe)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1,884
Betas: none. Because I forgot to ask Tangible Magic.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. J K does and she is very very nice.
Notes:I wrote this before HBP, so no spoilers. AU.
Summary: Harry got injured and headed off from the infirmary not in his right mind. Maybe. Malfoy is a bad boy and Harry is very much a Gryffindor.
Sucker
Harry felt dizzy and woozy, the air spinning with every breath, every slow stride along the chilly corridor. Perhaps he should not have ignored Pomfrey, perhaps he was unfit, just yet, to return to his dorm.
But he was too stubborn to return. He should be able to make it back, back to Gryffindor and his welcoming bed. Oh, how his head ached. He didn’t have much further to walk, and he would be home in his dorm, and his Housemates would grumble concernedly at him, and he would get some rest and he would be fine.
Everything would be alright.
He hadn’t wanted to leave; it had been that bloody Hufflepuff, Bethany or… whatever her name was. Blushing and ogling at him from her station next to her friend’s bed, and God, his belly had been queasy. He couldn’t have lingered in there a moment longer, even if his newest injuries were still knitting themselves back together. Oh, hell, the air was so strange, thick and too thin by turns. His vision seemed to be going funny - black spots and dancing lights behind his eyes. He just had to - he had to get back to his dorm, to his room, and then he could collapse behind his bed curtains and everyone would pretend not to notice and in the morning he’d feel so much better.
He knew it. He just had to get through this bit.
One foot in front of the other, right, left, right, left, and he was getting closer, it wouldn’t be much longer, and-
‘What’s this, then?’
His eyes dragged up reluctantly. A blur of white, and another blur of indeterminate blandness. His vision cleared. *Malfoy.* Oh, no. He felt his bruised flesh tense, his blood charging in readiness for battle. Malfoy. Some unimportant boy next to him, carrying Malfoy’s books, of all things. Harry wasn’t well, and he squelched the urge to chuckle. Carrying Malfoy’s *books*.
‘What have you done to yourself, Potter?’ Malfoy voice was fascinated, and horrid, half-bitter, slimy.
All he could do was blink. ‘Let me pass,’ he mumbled, wondering even as he did so, why it was that he said it, chose those words, like a red rag to a bull, a sign of weakness to a bully.
‘Let you pass?’ Malfoy repeated, and his voice cracked, and he repeated it again. ‘Let you *pass*? Should I let him pass, Nott?’
‘I don’t know,’ the voice was reedy, and worried, and Harry paid no attention to it at all.
‘I don’t think I should let him pass, Nott.’ Harry took one step to the side, and Malfoy moved nimbly to place himself in Harry’s path again, more graceful here and now than he was on the Quidditch pitch.
Nott sighed out something that might have been capitulation, might have been boredom. ‘Malfoy, I-’
‘You don’t think I should *spare* him, do you?’ Malfoy demanded. His eyes glittered like snakeskin. Camouflage diamonds. Radiant. There were hectic smears of colour on the curve of his cheekbones. Harry thought, harlot, and swallowed. He was so terribly dizzy.
‘I don’t know, Malfoy. I don’t think we have time to pester him, and someone might come along and see-’
‘Pester him?’ Malfoy snickered, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s face. Snake eyes. ‘We’re not *first years*, Nott.’
‘Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning, I don’t want-’ Nott’s throat bobbed painfully. ‘I don’t want any part of it. I’m, I’m going down to supper, Malfoy.’
‘Fine, whatever,’ Malfoy said scornfully. The sound of Nott walking away, not helping, not interfering, it pounded in Harry’s ears. Clomp, clomp, clomp. He sounded like a lame horse. Malfoy glanced up and down the corridor, clearly not like a snake at all. Once they entranced their prey, snakes didn’t look away. Malfoy wasn’t a snake.
Not a proper one.
Harry was awfully hot. Almost feverish. He wasn’t quite so dizzy anymore, but the corridor seemed very bright, colours ultra-saturated. Malfoy grabbed Harry’s shirt, and before he could react, was pulling him into a classroom. The Professor had left a heap of messy parchment on their desk, a quill and a bottle of red ink stoppered tightly on top of the pile.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, wiping his hands on his thighs and looking sharply at Harry. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Accident,’ Harry said slowly, and blinked.
‘An accident, and Pomfrey sent Perfect Potter off on his own?’ Malfoy sneered.
Harry’s mouth slid open. ‘S’not important. Jussa concussion.’
Malfoy smiled, a real smile. It wasn’t very nice. ‘Hmm.’ He took out his wand, and ran it between his fingers. ‘If I remember correctly, the only time the Imperius Curse can work on someone it doesn’t usually work on, is if they’ve recently suffered a head injury. Is that true, Potter?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harry said, and his chest clenched tight and hard like dragon hide.
Malfoy’s real smile vanished, as Malfoy swallowed, and then the smile reappeared, deeper, even more sincere. Harry felt ill, and shocked, and not surprised at all, when Malfoy grinned wider. And Malfoy said, ‘*Imperio!*’
Harry stared at him through lowered eyes. Did *Imperio* usually make people feel like this, tingly and weightless and free?
‘Potter,’ said Malfoy, sounding almost afraid, ‘stand on one leg.’
Harry took his left foot off the ground.
Malfoy drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering closed. When he opened them, he bared his teeth. ‘Potter, spin around. Act like a House-Elf. Sing the school song.’
Harry used the tune of ‘God Save the Queen’. The Sex Pistols’ version. He was a little out of breath by the end.
‘Potter,’ Malfoy swallowed. ‘On your knees.’
The flagstones were cold.
‘Crawl toward me.’
He could feel the bones and muscles of his back and his shoulders and his arse, moving and sliding like some wanton creature under his skin. He kept his head lowered, and he didn’t move when he heard the slip of buttons out of taut fabric.
‘Potter. Look- look up.’
His head was a heavy thing, warm and large and when he raised it, Malfoy was staring down at him like Harry was God. And Malfoy’s fly was open.
‘P.’ Malfoy took a shallow breath. ‘Potter, suck, suck my-’ Malfoy closed his eyes briefly, and Harry watched Malfoy shake. Malfoy opened his eyes and looked down at Harry on his hands and knees, waiting patiently, and Malfoy’s mouth went slack. ‘Potter, suck my cock,’ he whispered.
Harry took his weight off his hands and slid up, pulling himself up into a kneel using Malfoy’s body as leverage. Malfoy yelped. His trousers were rather tight, despite being undone, and Harry had to wrestle with them to get the tailored cloth down Malfoy’s thighs. His skin was milk-pale. Golden hair sprinkled the lean muscle. ‘Potter-’ Malfoy began, and shut up when Harry grasped his briefs. The fabric was soft. Not as soft as his skin. Malfoy’s cock was curved and incredibly musky and damp. He didn’t know if he was bigger than normal. Harry didn’t look at the other boys in the showers, not that they’d mind, or anything, but it wasn’t polite. He looked bigger than Harry, though, at least at this angle.
He tasted like winter, and he felt a lot bigger in Harry’s mouth than he’d looked out of it. Impossibly thick, and velvet-hard, and he was pushing at Harry’s soft palate, moaning and whimpering just like a puppy, and Harry flicked his eyes up. Malfoy said, ‘Oh, God, *suck*-’ and came just like that, panting and shuddering, come shooting down Harry’s throat.
Harry felt pleased, but also pissed. Malfoy appeared to have a hair-trigger, so Harry couldn’t know if he’d actually been any good.
He thought he could have been good if he had had more time.
Harry kept the tip of his cock in his mouth, and licked around it, testing the sponginess against the flat of his tongue.
‘That’s, that’s, Potter, God, that’s *enough*.’
Harry released Malfoy’s cock and ignored his balls, even though he thought they needed tasting.
‘Put me- tuck me back in. God.’ Harry glanced up as he finished doing the buttons. Malfoy had one hand over his face. Sweat was pooling above his lip, which was trembling.
Harry’s throat was ticklish. He felt like coughing, but he didn’t. His body was thrumming with bruises and knitting wounds and the crackle of power, and he needed to get home. To Gryffindor. To his bed.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, and his voice broke. ‘You can, you can go now.’
Harry stood up slowly, licked his mouth, and turned.
‘Wait! Fuck. Potter. *Finite Incantatum*. *Obliviate*.’
Harry stood still, and then jerked, looking about. ‘Malfoy?’
‘What?’ he snarled defensively.
‘Um, why am I- never mind. I guess I’m just a bit tired. Were we fighting, or-’
‘No, Potter, you were confessing your undying love to me.’
Harry snickered. ‘I don’t think so, Malfoy,’ he said dismissively. ‘I don’t have time for your stupid games right now. I’m going home.’
‘What?’ Malfoy demanded.
‘To Gryffindor. To bed. God knows I need the… release,’ he said quietly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’
Harry looked at him blandly. ‘You are such a fuckwit, Malfoy. What’s what supposed to mean? I’ve got a concussion, I need to get some rest, relax, and recuperate. This is what we normal wizards do in these situations.’
‘I’m normal, Potter,’ Malfoy told him, murderously quiet.
Harry grinned. ‘God, Malfoy, that’s a terrible retort, even for you.’ He walked out, and he could feel Malfoy’s eyes follow him down the corridor.
Just like a puppy.
Malfoy put his hand up, looking insufferably smug. ‘I know, Professor. People who are normally immune to the Imperius Curse can be influenced with it when they have a concussion.’
The new DADA professor frowned and rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘Mr Malfoy, I don’t know how you came by that information, but my predecessors must have been exceptionally lax if you learnt it in class. Anyone else?’
Hermione looked at Harry, and when he made no move to answer, put her hand up and waited to be acknowledged. ‘Sir, those who are immune to the Imperius Curse tend to remain so unless they’ve spent several decades in the exclusive company of Dementors.’
Malfoy frowned and glanced back at Harry. ‘Harry,’ whispered Hermione. ‘I really think you should consider getting your eyesight magically corrected. Sometimes, light glints off your glasses, and you look a bit predatory. In a very dashing way, of course, but would you consider - I could help you set up an appointment, if you wanted.’
Harry muttered neutrally. Then he added, quietly, ‘if you want, Hermione.’
Malfoy kept swinging his head back to stare at Harry until the Professor threatened detention. Then he sat very straight until the end of class, at which point he bolted out of his seat, and raced out of the room. When Harry came out, Malfoy was waiting impatiently, hovering from one foot to the other. ‘Potter!’ he hissed. ‘I need to talk to you!’
Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t need to talk to you, Malfoy. Oh, except for one thing.’
‘What?’ Malfoy stared at him, terrified and fascinated.
Harry sidled closer, and leaned toward Malfoy’s ear, and said, very gently, ‘sucker.’
And he walked off down the hallway.
Title : Sucker
Rating: Fan Rated Adults Only (to be safe)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1,884
Betas: none. Because I forgot to ask Tangible Magic.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. J K does and she is very very nice.
Notes:I wrote this before HBP, so no spoilers. AU.
Summary: Harry got injured and headed off from the infirmary not in his right mind. Maybe. Malfoy is a bad boy and Harry is very much a Gryffindor.
Sucker
Harry felt dizzy and woozy, the air spinning with every breath, every slow stride along the chilly corridor. Perhaps he should not have ignored Pomfrey, perhaps he was unfit, just yet, to return to his dorm.
But he was too stubborn to return. He should be able to make it back, back to Gryffindor and his welcoming bed. Oh, how his head ached. He didn’t have much further to walk, and he would be home in his dorm, and his Housemates would grumble concernedly at him, and he would get some rest and he would be fine.
Everything would be alright.
He hadn’t wanted to leave; it had been that bloody Hufflepuff, Bethany or… whatever her name was. Blushing and ogling at him from her station next to her friend’s bed, and God, his belly had been queasy. He couldn’t have lingered in there a moment longer, even if his newest injuries were still knitting themselves back together. Oh, hell, the air was so strange, thick and too thin by turns. His vision seemed to be going funny - black spots and dancing lights behind his eyes. He just had to - he had to get back to his dorm, to his room, and then he could collapse behind his bed curtains and everyone would pretend not to notice and in the morning he’d feel so much better.
He knew it. He just had to get through this bit.
One foot in front of the other, right, left, right, left, and he was getting closer, it wouldn’t be much longer, and-
‘What’s this, then?’
His eyes dragged up reluctantly. A blur of white, and another blur of indeterminate blandness. His vision cleared. *Malfoy.* Oh, no. He felt his bruised flesh tense, his blood charging in readiness for battle. Malfoy. Some unimportant boy next to him, carrying Malfoy’s books, of all things. Harry wasn’t well, and he squelched the urge to chuckle. Carrying Malfoy’s *books*.
‘What have you done to yourself, Potter?’ Malfoy voice was fascinated, and horrid, half-bitter, slimy.
All he could do was blink. ‘Let me pass,’ he mumbled, wondering even as he did so, why it was that he said it, chose those words, like a red rag to a bull, a sign of weakness to a bully.
‘Let you pass?’ Malfoy repeated, and his voice cracked, and he repeated it again. ‘Let you *pass*? Should I let him pass, Nott?’
‘I don’t know,’ the voice was reedy, and worried, and Harry paid no attention to it at all.
‘I don’t think I should let him pass, Nott.’ Harry took one step to the side, and Malfoy moved nimbly to place himself in Harry’s path again, more graceful here and now than he was on the Quidditch pitch.
Nott sighed out something that might have been capitulation, might have been boredom. ‘Malfoy, I-’
‘You don’t think I should *spare* him, do you?’ Malfoy demanded. His eyes glittered like snakeskin. Camouflage diamonds. Radiant. There were hectic smears of colour on the curve of his cheekbones. Harry thought, harlot, and swallowed. He was so terribly dizzy.
‘I don’t know, Malfoy. I don’t think we have time to pester him, and someone might come along and see-’
‘Pester him?’ Malfoy snickered, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s face. Snake eyes. ‘We’re not *first years*, Nott.’
‘Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning, I don’t want-’ Nott’s throat bobbed painfully. ‘I don’t want any part of it. I’m, I’m going down to supper, Malfoy.’
‘Fine, whatever,’ Malfoy said scornfully. The sound of Nott walking away, not helping, not interfering, it pounded in Harry’s ears. Clomp, clomp, clomp. He sounded like a lame horse. Malfoy glanced up and down the corridor, clearly not like a snake at all. Once they entranced their prey, snakes didn’t look away. Malfoy wasn’t a snake.
Not a proper one.
Harry was awfully hot. Almost feverish. He wasn’t quite so dizzy anymore, but the corridor seemed very bright, colours ultra-saturated. Malfoy grabbed Harry’s shirt, and before he could react, was pulling him into a classroom. The Professor had left a heap of messy parchment on their desk, a quill and a bottle of red ink stoppered tightly on top of the pile.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, wiping his hands on his thighs and looking sharply at Harry. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Accident,’ Harry said slowly, and blinked.
‘An accident, and Pomfrey sent Perfect Potter off on his own?’ Malfoy sneered.
Harry’s mouth slid open. ‘S’not important. Jussa concussion.’
Malfoy smiled, a real smile. It wasn’t very nice. ‘Hmm.’ He took out his wand, and ran it between his fingers. ‘If I remember correctly, the only time the Imperius Curse can work on someone it doesn’t usually work on, is if they’ve recently suffered a head injury. Is that true, Potter?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harry said, and his chest clenched tight and hard like dragon hide.
Malfoy’s real smile vanished, as Malfoy swallowed, and then the smile reappeared, deeper, even more sincere. Harry felt ill, and shocked, and not surprised at all, when Malfoy grinned wider. And Malfoy said, ‘*Imperio!*’
Harry stared at him through lowered eyes. Did *Imperio* usually make people feel like this, tingly and weightless and free?
‘Potter,’ said Malfoy, sounding almost afraid, ‘stand on one leg.’
Harry took his left foot off the ground.
Malfoy drew in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering closed. When he opened them, he bared his teeth. ‘Potter, spin around. Act like a House-Elf. Sing the school song.’
Harry used the tune of ‘God Save the Queen’. The Sex Pistols’ version. He was a little out of breath by the end.
‘Potter,’ Malfoy swallowed. ‘On your knees.’
The flagstones were cold.
‘Crawl toward me.’
He could feel the bones and muscles of his back and his shoulders and his arse, moving and sliding like some wanton creature under his skin. He kept his head lowered, and he didn’t move when he heard the slip of buttons out of taut fabric.
‘Potter. Look- look up.’
His head was a heavy thing, warm and large and when he raised it, Malfoy was staring down at him like Harry was God. And Malfoy’s fly was open.
‘P.’ Malfoy took a shallow breath. ‘Potter, suck, suck my-’ Malfoy closed his eyes briefly, and Harry watched Malfoy shake. Malfoy opened his eyes and looked down at Harry on his hands and knees, waiting patiently, and Malfoy’s mouth went slack. ‘Potter, suck my cock,’ he whispered.
Harry took his weight off his hands and slid up, pulling himself up into a kneel using Malfoy’s body as leverage. Malfoy yelped. His trousers were rather tight, despite being undone, and Harry had to wrestle with them to get the tailored cloth down Malfoy’s thighs. His skin was milk-pale. Golden hair sprinkled the lean muscle. ‘Potter-’ Malfoy began, and shut up when Harry grasped his briefs. The fabric was soft. Not as soft as his skin. Malfoy’s cock was curved and incredibly musky and damp. He didn’t know if he was bigger than normal. Harry didn’t look at the other boys in the showers, not that they’d mind, or anything, but it wasn’t polite. He looked bigger than Harry, though, at least at this angle.
He tasted like winter, and he felt a lot bigger in Harry’s mouth than he’d looked out of it. Impossibly thick, and velvet-hard, and he was pushing at Harry’s soft palate, moaning and whimpering just like a puppy, and Harry flicked his eyes up. Malfoy said, ‘Oh, God, *suck*-’ and came just like that, panting and shuddering, come shooting down Harry’s throat.
Harry felt pleased, but also pissed. Malfoy appeared to have a hair-trigger, so Harry couldn’t know if he’d actually been any good.
He thought he could have been good if he had had more time.
Harry kept the tip of his cock in his mouth, and licked around it, testing the sponginess against the flat of his tongue.
‘That’s, that’s, Potter, God, that’s *enough*.’
Harry released Malfoy’s cock and ignored his balls, even though he thought they needed tasting.
‘Put me- tuck me back in. God.’ Harry glanced up as he finished doing the buttons. Malfoy had one hand over his face. Sweat was pooling above his lip, which was trembling.
Harry’s throat was ticklish. He felt like coughing, but he didn’t. His body was thrumming with bruises and knitting wounds and the crackle of power, and he needed to get home. To Gryffindor. To his bed.
‘Right,’ said Malfoy, and his voice broke. ‘You can, you can go now.’
Harry stood up slowly, licked his mouth, and turned.
‘Wait! Fuck. Potter. *Finite Incantatum*. *Obliviate*.’
Harry stood still, and then jerked, looking about. ‘Malfoy?’
‘What?’ he snarled defensively.
‘Um, why am I- never mind. I guess I’m just a bit tired. Were we fighting, or-’
‘No, Potter, you were confessing your undying love to me.’
Harry snickered. ‘I don’t think so, Malfoy,’ he said dismissively. ‘I don’t have time for your stupid games right now. I’m going home.’
‘What?’ Malfoy demanded.
‘To Gryffindor. To bed. God knows I need the… release,’ he said quietly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’
Harry looked at him blandly. ‘You are such a fuckwit, Malfoy. What’s what supposed to mean? I’ve got a concussion, I need to get some rest, relax, and recuperate. This is what we normal wizards do in these situations.’
‘I’m normal, Potter,’ Malfoy told him, murderously quiet.
Harry grinned. ‘God, Malfoy, that’s a terrible retort, even for you.’ He walked out, and he could feel Malfoy’s eyes follow him down the corridor.
Just like a puppy.
Malfoy put his hand up, looking insufferably smug. ‘I know, Professor. People who are normally immune to the Imperius Curse can be influenced with it when they have a concussion.’
The new DADA professor frowned and rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘Mr Malfoy, I don’t know how you came by that information, but my predecessors must have been exceptionally lax if you learnt it in class. Anyone else?’
Hermione looked at Harry, and when he made no move to answer, put her hand up and waited to be acknowledged. ‘Sir, those who are immune to the Imperius Curse tend to remain so unless they’ve spent several decades in the exclusive company of Dementors.’
Malfoy frowned and glanced back at Harry. ‘Harry,’ whispered Hermione. ‘I really think you should consider getting your eyesight magically corrected. Sometimes, light glints off your glasses, and you look a bit predatory. In a very dashing way, of course, but would you consider - I could help you set up an appointment, if you wanted.’
Harry muttered neutrally. Then he added, quietly, ‘if you want, Hermione.’
Malfoy kept swinging his head back to stare at Harry until the Professor threatened detention. Then he sat very straight until the end of class, at which point he bolted out of his seat, and raced out of the room. When Harry came out, Malfoy was waiting impatiently, hovering from one foot to the other. ‘Potter!’ he hissed. ‘I need to talk to you!’
Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t need to talk to you, Malfoy. Oh, except for one thing.’
‘What?’ Malfoy stared at him, terrified and fascinated.
Harry sidled closer, and leaned toward Malfoy’s ear, and said, very gently, ‘sucker.’
And he walked off down the hallway.