Fic: Catnip (Harry/Draco) - NC17
Title: Catnip
Authors: corvidae9 and knitmeapony
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~4300
Warnings: Even. More. Crack. No, seriously. Crack.
Summary: Voldemort can always be relied upon to make Harry's life harder than it has to be. Heh. He said 'hard'. (H/D).
Notes: mirasfics in her cracktastically wonderful A Consummation Devoutly to be Wished, coined the fucking fantastic phrase, 'Boy Whose Arse Is Apparently Like Veela Catnip'... which clearly led knitmeapony to say something about 'Harry's arse being like Death Eater Catnip.' Which then led to this. I maintain it's still her fault. I may in fact be to blame an eensy bit, too. >.>
###
Harry frowned.
It wasn't a rare occurrence, no. But this time he had good reason. Err. Perhaps not better than being the savior of the Wizarding world or the object of a madman's desire. Err. Or perhaps it was, given that 'desire' shouldn't be the right word for it. 'Obsession' should probably be closer and less disturbing, but these days apparently 'desire' was closer to the mark.
Exhibit A: The fact that Snape had rushed him with a rather sharp letter opener when Harry first reported his strange encounter with Karkaroff, and opened up a seemingly pointless wound about an inch long on his index finger, muttering something about needing a test sample.
Harry backed away, confused. "Um. You see--" He scrabbled back, holding his finger up as Hermione conjured a plaster unbidden and stuck it on his finger, placing herself subtly between them and sharing an equally confused look with Ron, who had done the same. "It was... creepy the way he bared his teeth and tried to bloody well... what are you doing?"
Regardless of the obstacles between them, Snape followed, his eyes on Harry's hand as though he might be seriously considering an attempt to lick it. Harry continued to back away, grimacing and hiding the bleeding spot with his hands, shoving his hand under the edge of his sweatshirt and --oh fuck-- suddenly wondering whether there might be a Wizarding equivalent to an iron apron. Producing his unhurt hand, Harry held it out in a universal gesture of 'back off'. "It's alright! I've--um. Got it under control!"
Snape, as though he might just now be realizing what he was on about, straightened his back, tugging at his vest, smoothing down the front in an attempt to regain his dignity. Without warning, he growled, "Accio plaster!"
Harry yelped as it pulled off and away from his skin, staring horrified as Snape jammed it in his mouth and chewed.
Chewed.
As it stood what with the war and all, Harry had seen a lot of horrible things, but that was the very sodding definition of horror, right there. "Ugh," he groaned, as oblivious to Ron and Hermione doing the same as he was to Malfoy sitting up in interest on the sofa across the room.
Snape's eyes rolled up, and the bastard actually smiled. "You realize you are sitting on a goldmine, Potter." He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, "I'll just be in my quarters for a time."
"Good God," breathed Hermione. "It's like the scent of your blood alone is having this sort of effect on anyone Marked."
Staring after him, jaw not quite shut, Harry murmured to no one in particular, "Anyone else feel vaguely nauseous?!"
Ron turned slowly to face Harry and raised his hand, though Harry had no chance to answer once Malfoy snapped his fingers and demanded, "POTTER! Come here. I demand to lick you, too."
To his credit, Ron didn't waver in his position though he was beginning to look green. "...Oh god."
Harry, on the other hand, eyed Malfoy, lip twitching in anticipation of a long-awaited opportunity for revenge. "Do you, now?"
"Research," said Hermione as she hid her face in both hands. "Research could fix this."
All but stomping his foot, Malfoy said with a petulant whine, "I wanna lick."
"Yeah?" Harry cocked his chin at Malfoy and threw his hands out expectantly, a challenge if he'd ever offered one. It probably wasn't the best time to do so, but the opportunity was fucking priceless, and he had to take them where he could get them. "Come and get it, then."
Malfoy was clearly sulking, but he got up off the couch anyway, stormed over and without preamble, grabbed Harry's hand and stuck stuck the cut finger into his mouth. Harry hissed an inhale as Malfoy industriously sucked at his finger, pulling a second into his mouth for no apparently reason.
Hermione reached up and covered Ron's eyes, and Ron could only whimper, "Bless you, Hermione."
"Uh huh," said Hermione as she stared distractedly.
"Mmph," said Harry under his breath, though what he really intended to say was "WHOA!", given that the sucking action on his fingers was far more entertaining than he thought it might be. He failed to suppress a low flush as he managed to stutter, "That's... um.... w-w-"
Ron peeked around Hermione's hand and though Harry couldn't quite see (nor honestly be arsed to care about) the expression that said Ron was fighting off a wave of nausea as he fled the room. Mostly this was because Harry was focused on the fact that Malfoy was breathing pornographically hard and nipping now, trying to get the cut to bleed again. Distantly, Harry was surprised that Hermione was only blink-blinking, rooted in place as she flailed feebly after Ron, but thankfully, he still didn't care because the sensations radiating out from Malfoy's tongue were pinging nerves right down to his toes. More importantly, he was harder than he could ever remember being and making some sort of very quiet noise in the back of his throat... and oddly, that he had managed to slip his other hand into Malfoy's hair with no time to stop and worry about how.
Eyes glazed over and looking well and truly high now, Malfoy moved up to licking and nipping at Harry's palm, pausing only to peer over Harry's shoulder at Hermione with a sly smirk. "Going to watch?"
"I-- um," said Hermione, sounding almost hopeful. "Maybe?"
By then, Harry was squirming under Malfoy's tongue, grumbling, "Whatever," as he shoved Malfoy back toward the sofa.
Malfoy had no complaint. Practically purring, he stretched out on the sofa and made grabby hands towards Harry's hand again, "Kinky wench. Come here, Potter."
Eyeing the sofa tentatively, biting the inside of his lip, Harry for once had not much fire behind his defense of Hermione. He mumbled, "Watch your mouth," before finally settling onto the sofa . His gaze darted downward to Malfoy's leg as it wrapped around his knees, fully aware that this was just supposed to be funny and had somewhere along the line become... no. Definitely not. A realization of which still didn't stop him from offering his hand up again.
The door opened and Luna wandered into the room, her eyes scanning it fully before she pronounced with a wide grin, "Oh. Hello. Ronald sent me to fetch Hermione." She looked around again as though she hadn't seen her the first time. "There you are."
Hermione's eyes went wide as Luna took hold of her elbow. "But--!"
"It's fine," said Luna, patting Hermione's arm and pulling her from the room. "I excel at distraction, I promise."
"At least she's gone now," said Harry for lack of anything more intelligent to say, mouth gone dry as the door shut with a deafening 'click'.
"Pfft. She liked it," said Malfoy, actually wriggling as he ground his hips lazily against Harry's thigh, still purring and gnawing on his fingers. "Bet she's got leather in the closet and a leash for Weasley."
Harry grimaced. "Oh ok, there's a visual I just don't need," he muttered, though the 'e' was hissed and followed by a hard inhale as he tried to catch his breath. "Besides, they're not.. y'know-- mmph!" He gave up and tangled a foot around Malfoy's leg.
"I wonder if any of your other bits cause the colors," mumbled Malfoy, once again proving that for Harry, there was always a deeper color of flushed red to be achieved.
Shocked but plotting, Harry tried to sound nonchalant. "Same blood... but maybe more in one place just under the surface."
Eyes half-lidded and clearly stoned, Malfoy perked and looked up, apparently unaware or uncaring as to the innuendo behind his next question.
"Where do I suck?"
Harry snickered (or would have, if his brain had been working at all correctly) as he shrugged and experimentally rocked his own hips. "I've got a suggestion." With that, he smirked and shoved Malfoy's hand downward.
Holding onto some semblance of dignity (though it just made him look sleepy) Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Oh no. I am not sucking that unless we're certain it will work."
Harry arched an eyebrow, thinking fast. "Try here," he said, pointing at his jugular vein.
"Hmmm," said Malfoy, dubious, but finally giving in with a shrug. He lowered his mouth to the spot that Harry had indicated and began to nibble thoughtfully, before sealing his lips over a spot and sucking. "Mmph. I think it might only work if you..." Malfoy interrupted himself with a hard inhale, lowered his mouth and sucked again, mumbling, "Mmphnevermindmmm," as he gnawed up a hell of a hickey.
"Ohyeah," Harry breathed, back arching a little as Malfoy nibbled and sucked. "That definitely works." His voice cracked on 'works' even as his shoulderblades came up off of the cushions.
Malfoy's head came up and he turned what looked like a genuine grin on Harry, thought his eyes were glazed over something awful. Harry leaned back and idly sort of clenched his fingers along Malfoy's shirt, sort of petting his side, not terribly concerned about the propriety of such, given that Malfoy was shamelessly rubbing against him as he settled in to lap at the mark he'd pulled up.
"Am I---" said Harry, though he stopped because the phraseology of what he'd been about to say was just way too weird. "Is that really that good?"
"If I didn't know cannibalism was illegal..." rumbled Malfoy between licks.
Harry's eyes darted from the ceiling down to the top of Malfoy's head. "Um... but then there wouldn't be anymore, either." Had that been a good enough save? It would have to be. Not that Harry appeared to be the kind of drug that incited violence.
He was a drug. And Malfoy was currently using him to get high. God, but he hated Voldemort.
"Whatever," murmured Malfoy, all but purring again and fully engrossed in frotting against Harry's leg as he licked at his throat. "It'd probably kill me too."
"Overdose," said Harry. "Kill you for --mmph-- sure." Damn it all, but that just felt too good to stay all that alarmed, and when it came to it, Malfoy valued his own skin above all else, right?
"Mmmhmm. Be a hell of a high, though..." said Malfoy, taking the fingers that were petpetting Harry's chest and running them down Harry's arm to grab hold of his hand again.
"...Ok. No more talk of--" Harry whimpered as Malfoy stuck his cut finger back into his mouth and began biting again, "--cannibalism or I won't let you lick me anymore." Which despite being mutually beneficial, was probably the weirdest thing he'd ever said in his life.
Apparently, Ron agreed. His voice was suddenly audible from outside the door as he exclaimed, "EWWWWW," immediately followed by the sounds of a scuffling, a zap of magic and a loud thump.
"Sorry," called Hermione also from outside the door.
Dreamily amused, Luna called out next, "No we're not," and Harry's eyes went wider than he thought possible even after everything else that had happened already.
Perversely, all it seemed to do was spur Malfoy on. "Mmphfine," he said lazily as he began tugging at Harry's trouser buttons. "Open the damn door. You can't properly hear a blowjob."
"Don't!" Harry whined. "Open the door I mean. You," he added, addressing Malfoy. "Can keep doing that, yes. Please."
Anything further he wanted to say or thought he ought to say or would probably ever say again died on the spot as Malfoy already had his hand down Harry's trousers, and was stroking him through his pants.
"Mmm, shouldn't they watch? For posterity," grinned Malfoy, in the process of wriggling downward.
Ohmyfuckinggod-- wait-- he'd said 'blowjob', hadn't he? Harry gasped and bucked his hips and blinked at the ceiling in disbelief.
The door handle jiggled as Luna said, "I like posterity."
Ron sounded groggy. "Don' want posterity. Too much like 'posterior'." He giggled drunkenly and added, "Don' wanna see theirs 'ermione. I--" before he was cut off abruptly again.
Harry forgot to be scandalized as the slow slide of Malfoy's hand on his cock was already drowning out whatever else was going on in the room (or just outside of it). He swallowed back whatever sort of comment he might have had for that with a raspy moan, impending posterity be damned. A small part of his mind was still trying to rationalize it as a fitting revenge; the rest just wanted Malfoy to never stop touching him. Still, his fingers flexed in Malfoy's hair and he managed to grunt, "Um..."
"Shut it, Potter," said Malfoy, almost cheerful as he flicked his wand at the door to let it open, then promptly set about taking Harry's cock out of his trousers and sucking him nice and hard without preamble.
Door? Harry saw no door; there was only at that point, his cock, which was apparently directly connected to his brain, and Malfoy, whose mouth was stretched around it-- wet, hot, lips perfectly flushed from all the sucking on Harry's skin. Harry was too busy moaning, hips bucking impolitely up to notice Luna and Hermione barely peeping through the cracked-open door, or to hear Hermione mumbling to Luna, "I... think I might like posterity too."
Malfoy was unpracticed as hell and unskilled to boot, but made up for it via enthusiasm. Determined to suck Harry's brain out completely, he held Harry's hips down and bobbed his head, quite content as long as the blood kept flowing just under Harry's skin. Fortunately, Harry had no practical experience in receiving said blowjobs, and had no problem with any of Malfoy's already-revelatory methods, whimpering every time Malfoy's tongue scraped and the suction... Christ, was indescribable. He was mumble-breathing something, yes; it might have been a mindless string of 'yeah' 'god' 'ohshit' and 'fuck, Malfoy'; it might just have been 'mpmpmfdptmfyrrrmble', he had no idea-- he couldn't hear it. He didn't give a damn because--
"Oh shit, teeth!"
Harry came with a growly sort of exhalation, fingers fisted in Malfoy's hair, shaking and gasping as Malfoy set about lapping the mess up all up with long, lazy strokes of his tongue. He couldn't quite breathe even once Malfoy had flopped back against the sofa, eyes half-slitted, staring at absolutely nothing and giggling. Hell, Harry was staring at nothing, mostly because he'd probably gone blind, or maybe because he was staring at the white of the ceiling, toes still curling, hand still petting Malfoy's hair.
Working his jaw to see if he could manage an intelligible word or two, Harry only sounded slightly disjointed when he said, "Malfoy, you can lick me anytime you like. Really. I'm encouraging it."
Quietly from the doorway, Luna, whispered, "Oooh. Me too."
Harry had mostly forgotten about the door, and though he tried to turn a glare in her direction when Luna spoke, he still couldn't quite be arsed to do more than mutter, "Damn."
For his part, Malfoy was busy giggling and mumbling about pretty colors under his breath, nuzzling Harry's throat intently, and didn't have to be plagued with any sort of visual as Hermione said with obvious distress, " I.. have something I need to go do. Er. Yes."
Nor did Malfoy give a damn when Luna said, "I'll help!" and very considerately pulled the door shut after her, her first step long and loud, and probably taken over an unconscious Ron.
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry shifted his gaze experimentally to look at Malfoy and couldn't suppress a grin. "You... are seriously fucked up, aren't you?"
Malfoy made a sound that resembled, "Bweeheehee," without a cease in the nuzzling.
Harry snorted a laugh and tugged Malfoy closer, using the reasoning that certainly, it could not be wrong to take advantage of this situation; he knew how it felt to be that fucked up, and how much better everything feels when you're that high. (What? He was a teenager under a lot of stress. He'd tried the funny pink potion. Sue him.)
At any rate, Harry slipped his fingers under Draco's shirt, palm against his bare flesh, and set to stroking his skin. Maybe it shouldn't have been so gratifying when Malfoy arched his back into that touch with a shuddering, "Oh God." But come on-- this was Malfoy, bane of his existence, suddenly malleable and agreeable and frotting lazily against his thigh, having just sucked him off in full view of two of his closest female friends. (Who by then had disappeared to likely do some seriously twisted things to one another and-- well. That visual couldn't help but reinforce the effect of Malfoy's drugged grinding and arching and purring for godsake.) (And how the hell was he doing that and how could Harry make that keep happening?)
As part of another great experiment, Harry licked at Malfoy's ear, still petting skin on skin. Malfoy hummed approvingly, eyes closed, blissed out as he ground up against Harry again. Harry nibbled, taking his time, working his way up to going for Malfoy's neck, which, when he did get there, tasted... rather nice, actually, and he had no problem inviting the continued kissing and sucking and nipping. Shifting further to his side facing Malfoy, Harry bent his knee and worked it between Malfoy's thighs to facilitate his ... yeah ok; it was rutting; but not unpleasant in the least.
It was little weird, sure, Harry would grant that. But at least his mini emo-crisis over whether he was bent at all had pretty much been resolved.
Malfoy suddenly collapsed into mad, breathless giggles and Harry slid the petting hand up to poke at his ribs.
"Something funny? No, wait. Everything's funny. Right."
"Shame. Can't suck on me and get high,"said Malfoy, spacy and too slow, nodding and wriggling against Harry as tightly as he could, all but fucking his thigh. ''Mnot special like --mmph-- like pharmaceuticals. 'M special like shiny."
More amused and turned on than anything, Harry said, "You're going to be so sorry tomorrow." Not that this prevented him from letting his hand drop to Draco's crotch, casually stroking him through the material of his trousers as if he'd done such things all his life, which he very much had not. (To other people, that is.)
Malfoy didn't care. His hips worked frantically, bucking into Harry's hand and hip just a little more until he gasped a happy sound and came, flopping onto Harry and settling in, just like that.
Harry jerked up in surprise at both that and the familiar seeping moisture that followed on the thigh of his half-undone trousers... but yeah, what else was there to do?
"Not moving are you?" he asked, trying to sound disgruntled. He didn't wait for an answer though as his fingers stretched for the throw across the back of the sofa. After all, it was bad enough that everyone would know what happened come morning, but he didn't want to have to worry about someone walking in and seeing his arse half hanging out of his trousers. Other than Luna and Hermione because they'd seen it already.
...Oh god. He didn't even want to think about that. Especially not as Malfoy was pillowing his head on Harry's shoulder, already half asleep.
With a sigh, Harry sort of tossed the throw over them to cover the important bits, though his one-hand-free technique of having done so left their feet uncovered. Shrugging, Harry fell back against the sofa cushion, considering the possibility of maybe just getting up and tucking Malfoy in and going to bed, but... but, why? Harry was comfortable, too, right? And he could move faster than Malfoy on the draw, in case any hexes came his way come morning.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Malfoy looked far too comfortable to move and likely wouldn't let go anyway, or the fact that Harry couldn't remember the last time he was that close to someone, even artificially like this. Or that it was Draco Malfoy, for god's sake.
On cue, Malfoy yawned hugely and nuzzled close with one more content lap at the mark on Harry's throat. Harry shivered and shut his eyes; definitely not moving.
###
Draco stirred and yawned lazily in the morning light, cracking a huge grin at the warm body mostly under his, his half-waking mind assuming it must belong to some one-night stand he picked up at the club. He lifted his head to see if she was cute, though he wasn't all that worried-- after all he had excellent beer goggles and--
"Oh my god, what the fuck?!" he cried in a panic, scrambling off of the sofa and landing on his arse in a sprawl.
Potter had been passed the fuck out, mouth a little open, and though Draco had no idea, nor did he care to, he'd been comfortable and warm and weighted down by someone that had managed to be sprawled mostly over him as opposed to just curled up against, and then suddenly he was reeling from an elbow to the gut and some other sort of knee or something in the thigh as the weight vaulted over him as if scalded.
"Ow, fuck, Malfoy," Potter muttered, rubbing at his side. "Get a grip."
"What the fuck is going on?" demanded Draco, patting his face checking for signs that he might have died and gone to a very bad place.
Potter only tilted his head in the expression that belonged on a large, stupid canine and actually smirked, "You molested me for a cheap high."
"I most certainly did NO..." said Draco automatically, though he trailed off at an unfortunately placed flashback.
"Let me know what you remember and I'll fill in the blanks," said Potter as the bastard stood and pointedly tucked his not-unimpressive self back into his trousers. "Maybe."
There was a knock on the door before Lovegood popped her head in. "There you are, still, but not at all naked. Shame. Breakfast?"
Potter had the audacity to point in her direction. "She can help, too."
Draco sighed, "Ohgod," covered his face with hands and wondered whether it was too late to go out and offer himself up to Voldemort's tender-by-comparison mercies.
"Yes, that sounds about right," said Luna, sounding overly pleased. "Hermione won't be joining us. She's... a bit tied up."
Potter echoed, "Ohgod," scratching the back of his neck until the door was safely shut behind Lovegood. "Listen--"
"Not. One. Word," Draco ground out, standing and holding up a hand as if to physically bar anything that might come out of Potter's mouth.
Potter looked as though he was trying to come up with something properly noble and Gryffindor-like, and Draco braced himself for words he really, honestly did not want to hear. As such he was completely unprepared when Potter fisted one hand in Draco's shirt, yanked him up close, and kissed him stupid for a long moment. Kissed him.
"K," he said, releasing Draco and taking a step back with a little headshake as though trying to clear some of his own stupid (not that it would ever help) and began to make his way to the door.
Indignant, Draco pointed violently at Potter. "You! You're trying to get me high!!!"
Potter rounded on him where he stood and threw his hands up, "Do you see any open wounds?!"
Draco glared, and though it had never stopped him before, he had nothing concrete with which to combat that assertion. Boiling over with loathing as he was, Draco still couldn't manage to tear his eyes from Potter's hand and the persistent memory of the feeling that came along with... with... ugh. Sucking on Potter's fingers and skin and...
Ugh.
But still--
The door opened again and this time it was Snape, his features pulled into an unpleasant predatory expression as he caught sight of Potter.
"Mr. Potter. I wondered if--"
Draco didn't give the old bastard a chance to finish the sentence. He darted forward and shut the door in Snape's face, and snarled, "Get your own," perfectly well aware of how effectively he managed to cover Potter's only exit route as he turned and leaned against the door. The corner of his lip quirked up and he ran a hand through his hair as fetchingly as he knew how.
"Let's discuss terms, shall we?"
Authors: corvidae9 and knitmeapony
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~4300
Warnings: Even. More. Crack. No, seriously. Crack.
Summary: Voldemort can always be relied upon to make Harry's life harder than it has to be. Heh. He said 'hard'. (H/D).
Notes: mirasfics in her cracktastically wonderful A Consummation Devoutly to be Wished, coined the fucking fantastic phrase, 'Boy Whose Arse Is Apparently Like Veela Catnip'... which clearly led knitmeapony to say something about 'Harry's arse being like Death Eater Catnip.' Which then led to this. I maintain it's still her fault. I may in fact be to blame an eensy bit, too. >.>
###
Harry frowned.
It wasn't a rare occurrence, no. But this time he had good reason. Err. Perhaps not better than being the savior of the Wizarding world or the object of a madman's desire. Err. Or perhaps it was, given that 'desire' shouldn't be the right word for it. 'Obsession' should probably be closer and less disturbing, but these days apparently 'desire' was closer to the mark.
Exhibit A: The fact that Snape had rushed him with a rather sharp letter opener when Harry first reported his strange encounter with Karkaroff, and opened up a seemingly pointless wound about an inch long on his index finger, muttering something about needing a test sample.
Harry backed away, confused. "Um. You see--" He scrabbled back, holding his finger up as Hermione conjured a plaster unbidden and stuck it on his finger, placing herself subtly between them and sharing an equally confused look with Ron, who had done the same. "It was... creepy the way he bared his teeth and tried to bloody well... what are you doing?"
Regardless of the obstacles between them, Snape followed, his eyes on Harry's hand as though he might be seriously considering an attempt to lick it. Harry continued to back away, grimacing and hiding the bleeding spot with his hands, shoving his hand under the edge of his sweatshirt and --oh fuck-- suddenly wondering whether there might be a Wizarding equivalent to an iron apron. Producing his unhurt hand, Harry held it out in a universal gesture of 'back off'. "It's alright! I've--um. Got it under control!"
Snape, as though he might just now be realizing what he was on about, straightened his back, tugging at his vest, smoothing down the front in an attempt to regain his dignity. Without warning, he growled, "Accio plaster!"
Harry yelped as it pulled off and away from his skin, staring horrified as Snape jammed it in his mouth and chewed.
Chewed.
As it stood what with the war and all, Harry had seen a lot of horrible things, but that was the very sodding definition of horror, right there. "Ugh," he groaned, as oblivious to Ron and Hermione doing the same as he was to Malfoy sitting up in interest on the sofa across the room.
Snape's eyes rolled up, and the bastard actually smiled. "You realize you are sitting on a goldmine, Potter." He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, "I'll just be in my quarters for a time."
"Good God," breathed Hermione. "It's like the scent of your blood alone is having this sort of effect on anyone Marked."
Staring after him, jaw not quite shut, Harry murmured to no one in particular, "Anyone else feel vaguely nauseous?!"
Ron turned slowly to face Harry and raised his hand, though Harry had no chance to answer once Malfoy snapped his fingers and demanded, "POTTER! Come here. I demand to lick you, too."
To his credit, Ron didn't waver in his position though he was beginning to look green. "...Oh god."
Harry, on the other hand, eyed Malfoy, lip twitching in anticipation of a long-awaited opportunity for revenge. "Do you, now?"
"Research," said Hermione as she hid her face in both hands. "Research could fix this."
All but stomping his foot, Malfoy said with a petulant whine, "I wanna lick."
"Yeah?" Harry cocked his chin at Malfoy and threw his hands out expectantly, a challenge if he'd ever offered one. It probably wasn't the best time to do so, but the opportunity was fucking priceless, and he had to take them where he could get them. "Come and get it, then."
Malfoy was clearly sulking, but he got up off the couch anyway, stormed over and without preamble, grabbed Harry's hand and stuck stuck the cut finger into his mouth. Harry hissed an inhale as Malfoy industriously sucked at his finger, pulling a second into his mouth for no apparently reason.
Hermione reached up and covered Ron's eyes, and Ron could only whimper, "Bless you, Hermione."
"Uh huh," said Hermione as she stared distractedly.
"Mmph," said Harry under his breath, though what he really intended to say was "WHOA!", given that the sucking action on his fingers was far more entertaining than he thought it might be. He failed to suppress a low flush as he managed to stutter, "That's... um.... w-w-"
Ron peeked around Hermione's hand and though Harry couldn't quite see (nor honestly be arsed to care about) the expression that said Ron was fighting off a wave of nausea as he fled the room. Mostly this was because Harry was focused on the fact that Malfoy was breathing pornographically hard and nipping now, trying to get the cut to bleed again. Distantly, Harry was surprised that Hermione was only blink-blinking, rooted in place as she flailed feebly after Ron, but thankfully, he still didn't care because the sensations radiating out from Malfoy's tongue were pinging nerves right down to his toes. More importantly, he was harder than he could ever remember being and making some sort of very quiet noise in the back of his throat... and oddly, that he had managed to slip his other hand into Malfoy's hair with no time to stop and worry about how.
Eyes glazed over and looking well and truly high now, Malfoy moved up to licking and nipping at Harry's palm, pausing only to peer over Harry's shoulder at Hermione with a sly smirk. "Going to watch?"
"I-- um," said Hermione, sounding almost hopeful. "Maybe?"
By then, Harry was squirming under Malfoy's tongue, grumbling, "Whatever," as he shoved Malfoy back toward the sofa.
Malfoy had no complaint. Practically purring, he stretched out on the sofa and made grabby hands towards Harry's hand again, "Kinky wench. Come here, Potter."
Eyeing the sofa tentatively, biting the inside of his lip, Harry for once had not much fire behind his defense of Hermione. He mumbled, "Watch your mouth," before finally settling onto the sofa . His gaze darted downward to Malfoy's leg as it wrapped around his knees, fully aware that this was just supposed to be funny and had somewhere along the line become... no. Definitely not. A realization of which still didn't stop him from offering his hand up again.
The door opened and Luna wandered into the room, her eyes scanning it fully before she pronounced with a wide grin, "Oh. Hello. Ronald sent me to fetch Hermione." She looked around again as though she hadn't seen her the first time. "There you are."
Hermione's eyes went wide as Luna took hold of her elbow. "But--!"
"It's fine," said Luna, patting Hermione's arm and pulling her from the room. "I excel at distraction, I promise."
"At least she's gone now," said Harry for lack of anything more intelligent to say, mouth gone dry as the door shut with a deafening 'click'.
"Pfft. She liked it," said Malfoy, actually wriggling as he ground his hips lazily against Harry's thigh, still purring and gnawing on his fingers. "Bet she's got leather in the closet and a leash for Weasley."
Harry grimaced. "Oh ok, there's a visual I just don't need," he muttered, though the 'e' was hissed and followed by a hard inhale as he tried to catch his breath. "Besides, they're not.. y'know-- mmph!" He gave up and tangled a foot around Malfoy's leg.
"I wonder if any of your other bits cause the colors," mumbled Malfoy, once again proving that for Harry, there was always a deeper color of flushed red to be achieved.
Shocked but plotting, Harry tried to sound nonchalant. "Same blood... but maybe more in one place just under the surface."
Eyes half-lidded and clearly stoned, Malfoy perked and looked up, apparently unaware or uncaring as to the innuendo behind his next question.
"Where do I suck?"
Harry snickered (or would have, if his brain had been working at all correctly) as he shrugged and experimentally rocked his own hips. "I've got a suggestion." With that, he smirked and shoved Malfoy's hand downward.
Holding onto some semblance of dignity (though it just made him look sleepy) Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Oh no. I am not sucking that unless we're certain it will work."
Harry arched an eyebrow, thinking fast. "Try here," he said, pointing at his jugular vein.
"Hmmm," said Malfoy, dubious, but finally giving in with a shrug. He lowered his mouth to the spot that Harry had indicated and began to nibble thoughtfully, before sealing his lips over a spot and sucking. "Mmph. I think it might only work if you..." Malfoy interrupted himself with a hard inhale, lowered his mouth and sucked again, mumbling, "Mmphnevermindmmm," as he gnawed up a hell of a hickey.
"Ohyeah," Harry breathed, back arching a little as Malfoy nibbled and sucked. "That definitely works." His voice cracked on 'works' even as his shoulderblades came up off of the cushions.
Malfoy's head came up and he turned what looked like a genuine grin on Harry, thought his eyes were glazed over something awful. Harry leaned back and idly sort of clenched his fingers along Malfoy's shirt, sort of petting his side, not terribly concerned about the propriety of such, given that Malfoy was shamelessly rubbing against him as he settled in to lap at the mark he'd pulled up.
"Am I---" said Harry, though he stopped because the phraseology of what he'd been about to say was just way too weird. "Is that really that good?"
"If I didn't know cannibalism was illegal..." rumbled Malfoy between licks.
Harry's eyes darted from the ceiling down to the top of Malfoy's head. "Um... but then there wouldn't be anymore, either." Had that been a good enough save? It would have to be. Not that Harry appeared to be the kind of drug that incited violence.
He was a drug. And Malfoy was currently using him to get high. God, but he hated Voldemort.
"Whatever," murmured Malfoy, all but purring again and fully engrossed in frotting against Harry's leg as he licked at his throat. "It'd probably kill me too."
"Overdose," said Harry. "Kill you for --mmph-- sure." Damn it all, but that just felt too good to stay all that alarmed, and when it came to it, Malfoy valued his own skin above all else, right?
"Mmmhmm. Be a hell of a high, though..." said Malfoy, taking the fingers that were petpetting Harry's chest and running them down Harry's arm to grab hold of his hand again.
"...Ok. No more talk of--" Harry whimpered as Malfoy stuck his cut finger back into his mouth and began biting again, "--cannibalism or I won't let you lick me anymore." Which despite being mutually beneficial, was probably the weirdest thing he'd ever said in his life.
Apparently, Ron agreed. His voice was suddenly audible from outside the door as he exclaimed, "EWWWWW," immediately followed by the sounds of a scuffling, a zap of magic and a loud thump.
"Sorry," called Hermione also from outside the door.
Dreamily amused, Luna called out next, "No we're not," and Harry's eyes went wider than he thought possible even after everything else that had happened already.
Perversely, all it seemed to do was spur Malfoy on. "Mmphfine," he said lazily as he began tugging at Harry's trouser buttons. "Open the damn door. You can't properly hear a blowjob."
"Don't!" Harry whined. "Open the door I mean. You," he added, addressing Malfoy. "Can keep doing that, yes. Please."
Anything further he wanted to say or thought he ought to say or would probably ever say again died on the spot as Malfoy already had his hand down Harry's trousers, and was stroking him through his pants.
"Mmm, shouldn't they watch? For posterity," grinned Malfoy, in the process of wriggling downward.
Ohmyfuckinggod-- wait-- he'd said 'blowjob', hadn't he? Harry gasped and bucked his hips and blinked at the ceiling in disbelief.
The door handle jiggled as Luna said, "I like posterity."
Ron sounded groggy. "Don' want posterity. Too much like 'posterior'." He giggled drunkenly and added, "Don' wanna see theirs 'ermione. I--" before he was cut off abruptly again.
Harry forgot to be scandalized as the slow slide of Malfoy's hand on his cock was already drowning out whatever else was going on in the room (or just outside of it). He swallowed back whatever sort of comment he might have had for that with a raspy moan, impending posterity be damned. A small part of his mind was still trying to rationalize it as a fitting revenge; the rest just wanted Malfoy to never stop touching him. Still, his fingers flexed in Malfoy's hair and he managed to grunt, "Um..."
"Shut it, Potter," said Malfoy, almost cheerful as he flicked his wand at the door to let it open, then promptly set about taking Harry's cock out of his trousers and sucking him nice and hard without preamble.
Door? Harry saw no door; there was only at that point, his cock, which was apparently directly connected to his brain, and Malfoy, whose mouth was stretched around it-- wet, hot, lips perfectly flushed from all the sucking on Harry's skin. Harry was too busy moaning, hips bucking impolitely up to notice Luna and Hermione barely peeping through the cracked-open door, or to hear Hermione mumbling to Luna, "I... think I might like posterity too."
Malfoy was unpracticed as hell and unskilled to boot, but made up for it via enthusiasm. Determined to suck Harry's brain out completely, he held Harry's hips down and bobbed his head, quite content as long as the blood kept flowing just under Harry's skin. Fortunately, Harry had no practical experience in receiving said blowjobs, and had no problem with any of Malfoy's already-revelatory methods, whimpering every time Malfoy's tongue scraped and the suction... Christ, was indescribable. He was mumble-breathing something, yes; it might have been a mindless string of 'yeah' 'god' 'ohshit' and 'fuck, Malfoy'; it might just have been 'mpmpmfdptmfyrrrmble', he had no idea-- he couldn't hear it. He didn't give a damn because--
"Oh shit, teeth!"
Harry came with a growly sort of exhalation, fingers fisted in Malfoy's hair, shaking and gasping as Malfoy set about lapping the mess up all up with long, lazy strokes of his tongue. He couldn't quite breathe even once Malfoy had flopped back against the sofa, eyes half-slitted, staring at absolutely nothing and giggling. Hell, Harry was staring at nothing, mostly because he'd probably gone blind, or maybe because he was staring at the white of the ceiling, toes still curling, hand still petting Malfoy's hair.
Working his jaw to see if he could manage an intelligible word or two, Harry only sounded slightly disjointed when he said, "Malfoy, you can lick me anytime you like. Really. I'm encouraging it."
Quietly from the doorway, Luna, whispered, "Oooh. Me too."
Harry had mostly forgotten about the door, and though he tried to turn a glare in her direction when Luna spoke, he still couldn't quite be arsed to do more than mutter, "Damn."
For his part, Malfoy was busy giggling and mumbling about pretty colors under his breath, nuzzling Harry's throat intently, and didn't have to be plagued with any sort of visual as Hermione said with obvious distress, " I.. have something I need to go do. Er. Yes."
Nor did Malfoy give a damn when Luna said, "I'll help!" and very considerately pulled the door shut after her, her first step long and loud, and probably taken over an unconscious Ron.
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry shifted his gaze experimentally to look at Malfoy and couldn't suppress a grin. "You... are seriously fucked up, aren't you?"
Malfoy made a sound that resembled, "Bweeheehee," without a cease in the nuzzling.
Harry snorted a laugh and tugged Malfoy closer, using the reasoning that certainly, it could not be wrong to take advantage of this situation; he knew how it felt to be that fucked up, and how much better everything feels when you're that high. (What? He was a teenager under a lot of stress. He'd tried the funny pink potion. Sue him.)
At any rate, Harry slipped his fingers under Draco's shirt, palm against his bare flesh, and set to stroking his skin. Maybe it shouldn't have been so gratifying when Malfoy arched his back into that touch with a shuddering, "Oh God." But come on-- this was Malfoy, bane of his existence, suddenly malleable and agreeable and frotting lazily against his thigh, having just sucked him off in full view of two of his closest female friends. (Who by then had disappeared to likely do some seriously twisted things to one another and-- well. That visual couldn't help but reinforce the effect of Malfoy's drugged grinding and arching and purring for godsake.) (And how the hell was he doing that and how could Harry make that keep happening?)
As part of another great experiment, Harry licked at Malfoy's ear, still petting skin on skin. Malfoy hummed approvingly, eyes closed, blissed out as he ground up against Harry again. Harry nibbled, taking his time, working his way up to going for Malfoy's neck, which, when he did get there, tasted... rather nice, actually, and he had no problem inviting the continued kissing and sucking and nipping. Shifting further to his side facing Malfoy, Harry bent his knee and worked it between Malfoy's thighs to facilitate his ... yeah ok; it was rutting; but not unpleasant in the least.
It was little weird, sure, Harry would grant that. But at least his mini emo-crisis over whether he was bent at all had pretty much been resolved.
Malfoy suddenly collapsed into mad, breathless giggles and Harry slid the petting hand up to poke at his ribs.
"Something funny? No, wait. Everything's funny. Right."
"Shame. Can't suck on me and get high,"said Malfoy, spacy and too slow, nodding and wriggling against Harry as tightly as he could, all but fucking his thigh. ''Mnot special like --mmph-- like pharmaceuticals. 'M special like shiny."
More amused and turned on than anything, Harry said, "You're going to be so sorry tomorrow." Not that this prevented him from letting his hand drop to Draco's crotch, casually stroking him through the material of his trousers as if he'd done such things all his life, which he very much had not. (To other people, that is.)
Malfoy didn't care. His hips worked frantically, bucking into Harry's hand and hip just a little more until he gasped a happy sound and came, flopping onto Harry and settling in, just like that.
Harry jerked up in surprise at both that and the familiar seeping moisture that followed on the thigh of his half-undone trousers... but yeah, what else was there to do?
"Not moving are you?" he asked, trying to sound disgruntled. He didn't wait for an answer though as his fingers stretched for the throw across the back of the sofa. After all, it was bad enough that everyone would know what happened come morning, but he didn't want to have to worry about someone walking in and seeing his arse half hanging out of his trousers. Other than Luna and Hermione because they'd seen it already.
...Oh god. He didn't even want to think about that. Especially not as Malfoy was pillowing his head on Harry's shoulder, already half asleep.
With a sigh, Harry sort of tossed the throw over them to cover the important bits, though his one-hand-free technique of having done so left their feet uncovered. Shrugging, Harry fell back against the sofa cushion, considering the possibility of maybe just getting up and tucking Malfoy in and going to bed, but... but, why? Harry was comfortable, too, right? And he could move faster than Malfoy on the draw, in case any hexes came his way come morning.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Malfoy looked far too comfortable to move and likely wouldn't let go anyway, or the fact that Harry couldn't remember the last time he was that close to someone, even artificially like this. Or that it was Draco Malfoy, for god's sake.
On cue, Malfoy yawned hugely and nuzzled close with one more content lap at the mark on Harry's throat. Harry shivered and shut his eyes; definitely not moving.
###
Draco stirred and yawned lazily in the morning light, cracking a huge grin at the warm body mostly under his, his half-waking mind assuming it must belong to some one-night stand he picked up at the club. He lifted his head to see if she was cute, though he wasn't all that worried-- after all he had excellent beer goggles and--
"Oh my god, what the fuck?!" he cried in a panic, scrambling off of the sofa and landing on his arse in a sprawl.
Potter had been passed the fuck out, mouth a little open, and though Draco had no idea, nor did he care to, he'd been comfortable and warm and weighted down by someone that had managed to be sprawled mostly over him as opposed to just curled up against, and then suddenly he was reeling from an elbow to the gut and some other sort of knee or something in the thigh as the weight vaulted over him as if scalded.
"Ow, fuck, Malfoy," Potter muttered, rubbing at his side. "Get a grip."
"What the fuck is going on?" demanded Draco, patting his face checking for signs that he might have died and gone to a very bad place.
Potter only tilted his head in the expression that belonged on a large, stupid canine and actually smirked, "You molested me for a cheap high."
"I most certainly did NO..." said Draco automatically, though he trailed off at an unfortunately placed flashback.
"Let me know what you remember and I'll fill in the blanks," said Potter as the bastard stood and pointedly tucked his not-unimpressive self back into his trousers. "Maybe."
There was a knock on the door before Lovegood popped her head in. "There you are, still, but not at all naked. Shame. Breakfast?"
Potter had the audacity to point in her direction. "She can help, too."
Draco sighed, "Ohgod," covered his face with hands and wondered whether it was too late to go out and offer himself up to Voldemort's tender-by-comparison mercies.
"Yes, that sounds about right," said Luna, sounding overly pleased. "Hermione won't be joining us. She's... a bit tied up."
Potter echoed, "Ohgod," scratching the back of his neck until the door was safely shut behind Lovegood. "Listen--"
"Not. One. Word," Draco ground out, standing and holding up a hand as if to physically bar anything that might come out of Potter's mouth.
Potter looked as though he was trying to come up with something properly noble and Gryffindor-like, and Draco braced himself for words he really, honestly did not want to hear. As such he was completely unprepared when Potter fisted one hand in Draco's shirt, yanked him up close, and kissed him stupid for a long moment. Kissed him.
"K," he said, releasing Draco and taking a step back with a little headshake as though trying to clear some of his own stupid (not that it would ever help) and began to make his way to the door.
Indignant, Draco pointed violently at Potter. "You! You're trying to get me high!!!"
Potter rounded on him where he stood and threw his hands up, "Do you see any open wounds?!"
Draco glared, and though it had never stopped him before, he had nothing concrete with which to combat that assertion. Boiling over with loathing as he was, Draco still couldn't manage to tear his eyes from Potter's hand and the persistent memory of the feeling that came along with... with... ugh. Sucking on Potter's fingers and skin and...
Ugh.
But still--
The door opened again and this time it was Snape, his features pulled into an unpleasant predatory expression as he caught sight of Potter.
"Mr. Potter. I wondered if--"
Draco didn't give the old bastard a chance to finish the sentence. He darted forward and shut the door in Snape's face, and snarled, "Get your own," perfectly well aware of how effectively he managed to cover Potter's only exit route as he turned and leaned against the door. The corner of his lip quirked up and he ran a hand through his hair as fetchingly as he knew how.
"Let's discuss terms, shall we?"