A Regal Affair (Cormac/Draco, NC-17)
Title: A Regal Affair
Author/Artist:
Characters: Cormac/Draco
Prompt Number: #74 - Cormac/Pansy or Cormac/Draco. The self-titled King of Gryffindor wants a shot at the King/Queen of Slytherin House, if only to prove he's the better monarch.
Word Count: 5,049
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: EWE, Canon Divergent, Bisexual!Cormac, Underage Drinking, Referenced Drug Usage, Consensual Underage Kissing, Public Kissing, Drunk Kissing, Frottage, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desk Sex, Quickies
Summary: There was nothing even all that special about Malfoy. Sure, he was pleasant enough to look at, if you liked the pointy, pale, platinum blonde sort. He had a nice arse―what could be discerned about it through those impossibly tight trousers he insisted upon wearing. And he was a decent kisser, from what Cormac could remember. Still, why all the men seemed to flock to him in droves, he thought he may never understand.
Disclaimer: Okay, so we pretty well know I’m not JKR. Because, honestly, if I was, the series would’ve been a lot less Harry and a lot more gay.
Author’s Notes: I've been turned on to the idea of these two for awhile now, and I'm happy to finally get to do something with them! A big thank you to my prompter for the inspiration! I hope you enjoy it. :3
It was a genius idea, if he did say so himself. Might go down in history, in fact.
He, Cormac McLaggen, was reigning King of Gryffindor―perhaps self-titled, but nonetheless. And why not? He was from an upstanding family with good connections. He was going to be a star Quidditch player when he was older―and now, as well, if their team got their act together by the time they were reinstated next year and decided to enlist him, as they should have already. He was charming, gorgeous, and every boy or girl who wasn't with him wished they were, and everyone that had been already rued the day they'd lost him. Just fifteen, and he was the talk of the town! Who else could say as much?
He could think of only one person: Draco Malfoy. Everything Cormac was for Gryffindor, Malfoy was for Slytherin. He was wealthy, of course, and he'd never been shy about how well his father knew various Ministry officials and the like. He was reasonably good-looking, performed well in his classes. Cormac didn't know the extent of his dating expertise thus far, but he'd seen it for some time now, how he could make those in his house swoon as he passed.
The issue Cormac had with it was he was just so damn pompous about it. He walked around the castle like he owned the place, and all the people in it. And he was only a fourth-year! Where did he get off thinking he was so bloody important already? It had pestered the Gryffindor to no end, especially over the last year or so, and he'd been conspiring for months on a way to teach him his proper place. Malfoy needed to be knocked down a peg―and Cormac had finally thought up the perfect way to do it.
He was going to make that boy fall for him. Obsess over him. Worship him like the born leader he was. And then, just when Malfoy was beginning to feel secure in his relationship with him, he was going to rip it all away! Cast him aside like week old rock cakes. He would show him who the true ruler really was. He would show him how a real man earned his spot on the totem pole. Malfoy would never forget him. He would spend the rest of his life knowing that he'd had the best, and it was too good for him.
It was brilliant. Except for one slight problem...
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're coming to the Yule Ball with me."
The poor kid seemed shocked silent by the suggestion. Cormac could understand. It wasn't every day that someone had the privilege of being asked out by a stunningly handsome Gryffindor, such as himself. He was a gentleman, and would of course allow him to take as much time as he needed to acclimate himself after such a heart-warming proposal.
By now, other students had paused in their daily routines to observe this history in the making. The corridor was littered with onlookers, creating a circle around the two of them. Their respective friends groups were equally as astounded. Cormac knew his own were probably admiring him now, from where they stood in a line behind him. They'd be secretly praising him for his boldness, his drive to take initiative in these cases. Malfoy had the usual lot with him: those two hulking thugs, and the petite, brunette girl, all of whom Cormac had never bothered to learn the names of. The pair of boys were wearing their typical confounded expressions―probably because they'd never seen a man so smooth before―and the girl kept glancing between him and Malfoy with something akin to fascination.
He could see now that Malfoy was sizing him up himself. Again, Cormac didn’t blame him; he was quite a lot to take in. They may be young still, but there was desire in his eyes, in his stance―he could see it. Malfoy cocked his head to the side, a small smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth. And then he finally said in that effortless, silken drawl of his:
"No."
Cormac blinked. His mouth opened―and snapped shut again once he realized he didn't know what to say. For the first time ever, he'd found himself speechless. Something wasn't right here, and he couldn't put his finger on what. He needed clarification for what he'd believed he'd heard just now before he could continue.
"What?"
A murmur ran through their audience. He could even hear his group whispering to each other behind him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He had to have heard Malfoy wrong. Had to have. Nothing about that word made sense, under the circumstances. One didn't say that when presented with an offer like this! And yet his worst fears were realized, even before Malfoy spoke again, in that small, derisive laugh he barked out.
"I said no, I'm in fact not." He shifted his weight as he checked with his cronies on either side of him. The girl was chuckling behind her hand now, and even those two idiots had seemed to catch on. They straightened themselves up with all the haughtiness they'd been parading around these halls for years and turned their backs on Cormac, Malfoy throwing a mocking "Ta," over his shoulder as they sauntered away.
Cormac would've been outraged, had he had the wherewithal to recognize what had just happened. Even after the crowd had begun to dissipate―with much mirth at his expense―he remained there, frozen and utterly confused. One of his mates came up and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder before they, too, left for class. And it was in that single pitying gesture that he finally realized it: that for the first time in his life, he'd been the one who'd lost.
***
It was on nights like these that Cormac thanked his lucky stars for Katie Bell. She was one of few people that he saw as his equal and didn't feel the need to sleep with. He found he could be an absolutely open book with her without any fear of appearing weak. And tonight he was exercising that right to the fullest, as he grew increasingly frustrated, intoxicated, and aroused, watching Malfoy from their sofa at the opposite side of the common room.
It had been two years since the most embarrassing―and only, as far as he was concerned―rejection of his life. The memory haunted him still. He'd never been more mortified than on that day, hearing that word coming from his treacherous lips. Half the school had been watching them, and it was all they'd talked about in the weeks following: how the mighty Cormac McLaggen had fallen. He'd silently cursed each one of them more times than he could count. And Malfoy. Malfoy stalked the halls like a supermodel ever since, taunting him, teasing him, holding that single humiliating moment over him.
There'd been something different about Malfoy for the past few months, however. He'd been...reserved. Introverted, even. Melancholy. Certainly not how Cormac had seen him in the years prior. He knew there was plenty a man like him could do to brighten the boy's days. If only he could find a way in somehow...He'd refused from the very start to take Malfoy's rejection lying down. He was the better man, and he was going to prove that to him some day, one way or another.
Katie had been his rock on this whole thing. She'd stuck by him, listened to him regurgitate the same complaints over and over again, even after his other companions had long since lost interest in the subject. She was very insightful, that one, and a good person to bounce ideas off of, for why things might have gone down the way they did. For a time, though, she'd taken to insisting that if he was still so hung up about it, that he should speak to Malfoy directly. First of all, he wasn't "hung up," so much as dumbfounded that anyone could look at him and find it in themselves to turn him down. Second, he was going to do that, he really was! Eventually. He was simply waiting for the opportune moment.
"I just don't understand it," Cormac eventually mused aloud, once he'd reached the bottom of his fourth shot of Ogden's.
"Don't understand what?" Katie replied monotonously, her tone betraying how many times they'd begun a conversation just this way in the past couple years.
"Why he said no." He heard her sigh to herself beside him, but soldiered on anyhow, "I mean, I know he's gay. Why wouldn't he say yes?"
"We all know he's gay," Katie agreed, with more than a hint of irritation. "He just might not be gay for you."
Cormac turned to her, his brow furrowing. "I don't know what you mean by that."
A pause, in which she took a painstakingly deep breath, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, as if thinking better of it. Finally, she muttered, "I know you don't," before getting up and adding, a little louder, "You want another?"
Cormac glanced down at the empty glass she was gesturing to, where he'd left it on the coffee table. Well, that was certainly her trying to escape from a conversation, if he'd ever seen the likes of it. But another drink could possibly assist him with escaping the topic as well, so he shrugged. "Sure."
Turned out he couldn't have been more wrong. The additional alcohol didn't so much as help him get over his obsession as it exasperated it. It was also making his staring much less inconspicuous, evidenced by how Malfoy kept looking his way with that knowing smirk. Honestly, he was trying not to do it! It may have been a Slytherin party, but nearly the entire sixth and seventh years were in attendance, and even some fifth-years as well. There were plenty of other people for him to set his sights on―and even some whose hearts he hadn't broken yet. He could've had anyone...and yet he couldn't stop looking at Malfoy long enough to try.
It was by some divine intervention that his target ended up on the same sofa as him, just as the night was beginning to wind down. Cormac couldn't help but grin to himself as Malfoy settled in beside him. He'd been dancing with a brunette Slytherin boy that Cormac had also never bothered to learn the name of for the better part of the past hour―and the Gryffindor had been watching with rapt attention. Locks of his white blonde hair stuck to Malfoy's sweaty forehead, and his cheeks were flushed. He was breathing a little heavily as well, and Cormac felt a shiver creep up his spine as he watched his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips.
Cormac scanned the room for Katie and found her chatting up a Ravenclaw by the drinks station. Their other friends had already retired back to Gryffindor Tower. By the look of things, many of Malfoy's cohorts were starting to do the same. No one was paying them any mind. And so Cormac decided he might as well go for it.
He shifted in his seat till he was fully facing him, one arm draped nonchalantly across the back of the couch between them. Malfoy looked at him as well, smiling slyly. The gloomy kid Cormac had seen for much of the term was gone, replaced with something else entirely, a glimmer of his former self.
"Alright, Malfoy?"
For a moment, he was sizing him up, as he had on that day. The state of his pupils said he might've currently been influenced by more than just drink, but Cormac wasn't thinking much about that. He was more focused on the rosy tint of Malfoy's lips as sucked the lower one between his teeth. Then he nodded his head towards the back of the room, to the hall that lead to their dormitories. There was no misinterpreting that message.
Malfoy gave the prettiest little moan when Cormac shoved him against the wall. They'd barely made it halfway down the corridor before he'd pounced. Malfoy didn't seem to mind, and that was all the green light Cormac needed. He cupped the back of the boy's head and tilted it up to press their open mouths together, their tongues tangling between them. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Cormac's neck and threaded his fingers through his hair, tugging just so, in that way he'd always liked. He arched and moaned again when Cormac rolled his hips, pressing him flat against the stone behind him, not a centimeter's width between them now.
A couple girls passed them by on the way to their own dorm, laughing and suggesting the boys "get a room." Their comment went largely ignored by Cormac, as he currently had Malfoy rutting against him and sucking on his tongue in a way that suggested he might be equally as good at doing so to another part of his anatomy entirely.
He'd never thought Malfoy was this good of a kisser. Really, he had to hand it to him. Maybe there was a reason why so many in his year seemed so obsessed with him themselves. He knew just how to tilt his head, and their teeth never clacked together, as Cormac had encountered with several less skilled people he'd been with. Perhaps he'd had more experience than he'd ever given him credit for.
Cormac trailed his hands down Malfoy's sides, mapping his slender frame under his fingertips. When he reached his hips, he slid around to pull his lower half away from the wall, kneading his pert arse as he ground their hips together. Malfoy gasped between them, then threw his head back, allowing Cormac full access to devour his throat. He could feel the boy's arousal through his trousers, and it sent a thrill of triumph through his gut.
Then something altogether perplexing happened. The first thing he felt was Malfoy's hands―which had previously been occupied with clawing his back through his jumper, and were now pressing against his chest, pushing him backwards. He didn't move, initially, but continued to nip at a spot just beneath his earlobe. It wasn't until the push became a shove that he finally stepped back and fixed him with an interrogatory glare.
Oh Merlin, he didn't like that look. It was sickeningly familiar, and he knew immediately why: it was the same way Malfoy had looked at him just before he'd said that dreaded word. That smirk―the same one Cormac had been wishing he could punch off his entitled face for years―spread across his kiss-chapped lips and he said:
"You really didn't think I'd make it that easy for you, did you?"
And then he was gone. Gone, down the hall and into his dorm, the door swinging shut definitively behind that sweet arse Cormac had just had his hands full of. He left the Gryffindor standing there, jaw slackened, incredibly hard, and fuming so outrageously that there might have been fire and brimstone pouring out his ears. In a second of blind rage, he lashed out, slamming his fist against the wall where Malfoy's head had just been. For a moment, he contemplated chasing after him, demanding an explanation for what had just happened. But he felt too foolish. Defeated, he eventually wandered back out into the common room to find Katie and head home. She took one look at him and knew―and he gave her one that suggested she'd do better not to ask.
***
He really couldn't understand it.
There was nothing even all that special about Malfoy. Sure, he was pleasant enough to look at, if you liked the pointy, pale, platinum blonde sort. He had a nice arse―what could be discerned about it through those impossibly tight trousers he insisted upon wearing. And he was a decent kisser, from what Cormac could remember. Still, why all the men seemed to flock to him in droves, he thought he may never understand.
It had been this way for years now. After Cormac had graduated, and with the war and all, he didn't think he'd ever have to be in the same room as Malfoy again. Unfortunately, he'd only realized how wrong he'd been the day his boss had approached his desk with a cocky Malfoy beside him and introduced him as his new coworker. He should've seen it coming, really. Malfoy had been a fairly adequate Seeker in his own right. And where did Quidditch players who couldn't make it as a professional go? Why, to the Department of Magical Games and Sports, of course. Cormac just hadn't thought they'd hire someone with his...history. Especially in the climate at that time. He'd been terribly wrong on that one, apparently.
So for years now, they'd shared an office, their desks hardly enough feet away from each other to make things bearable. And for years, Cormac had been tortured with all the attention Malfoy seemed to receive on an almost daily basis. It was astounding, actually. How could anyone look at him, knowing full well he was a Death Eater―reformed or not, Cormac wasn't one to let something like that slide―and still be as interested as they all were?
One of the regulars was there now. A post boy, who often made a point of lingering at the Slytherin's workstation for longer than was appropriate, even on the days when he didn't have any mail to deliver to him. Right now, Malfoy was laughing lightheartedly at something the man had said, biting his bottom lip as he looked up at him in what was clearly a suggestion. For his part, the clerk looked positively beside himself. It was a disgusting display, to say the least.
"Ponce," Cormac muttered under his breath, attempting to return to his own paperwork. He thought Malfoy might've glanced his way just then, but he didn't bother looking up to find out.
The remainder of the day was, thankfully, uneventful. Cormac was pleased to find he'd gone for hours without any more distractions from his unwanted cellmate. That was, until Malfoy got up at barely a quarter past five and announced he was going to get ready and head down to the reception they were hosting for the DMLE. Apparently they'd achieved some sort of milestone. Whatever it was, Cormac hadn't found it in him to care, although he had planned to attend himself. He ground his teeth in irritation as he watched that same fine backside that he'd lost out on all those years ago exit with a flourish, the door slamming shut behind it.
When the clock struck six, Cormac finally set aside his work for the day and retired to the private bathroom at the end of the hall to change. He emerged nearly half an hour later, simply dazzling, with his hair freshly styled and his suit clean pressed. He vowed he wasn't going to allow Malfoy to ruin his night, as he so often ruined his days―and even if he did, he was at the very least going to look smashing while it happened. Maybe he'd end up leaving with someone. Merlin knew it had been far too long, although he would never admit that to anyone, not even Katie.
The party was tolerable. There was a shortage of boring speeches, which was always good, and there was an open bar and plenty of good food. Even some good company, as Cormac had found many of his acquaintances from other departments were there as well, and thus he'd been able to spend much of the time without having to acknowledge the ever looming presence of Malfoy at all.
It wasn't until later on in the night, when Cormac was standing against the far wall, polishing off his last drink and deciding to give up on finding a partner for the evening and pack it in, that Malfoy approached him. Had the former not been watching his every move for the past ten minutes, he might not have even noticed him, the way he slid so gracefully into the space on the opposite side of the high table he was leaning against. Cormac was immediately reminded by the hue of Malfoy's cheeks of that night back in his seventh year, although the man didn't appear anywhere near as intoxicated as he'd been then. Cormac wasn't, either, which he found he was grateful for.
"Alright, McLaggen?"
Cormac shrugged, trying to make it as painfully obvious as possible that he would love nothing more than for the other man to sod off. Instead of leaving, Malfoy chuckled to himself, reaching out to place his empty champagne flute on a waiter's tray as they passed by.
"You know, for someone who's as keen on having me as you are, I'd think you'd be a bit more courteous when we speak."
Cormac raised an eyebrow, to which Malfoy responded in kind. He was confused by the statement. He wasn't "keen on having him," at least not anymore. That genius plan of his had backfired on him―twice!―and he'd long since resolved that he didn't need to prove anything to this pompous bastard at all. Cormac knew he was the better man, and his friends and past lovers knew it, too. Who cared if Malfoy knew? He was probably too thick it ever get it, anyway.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please, you've been after me for years." Cormac bristled, but didn't retort. Malfoy sighed, then: "Alright, finish up your drink, and let's go."
Okay, now he was really lost. What was Malfoy playing at? It sounded like...Was he propositioning him? Cormac blinked, distrusting. He'd fallen for that act once before, and he wasn't about to do it again.
"I'm sorry?"
"Let's go. I'm finally accepting your offer, McLaggen, or is it not still on the table?"
Oh dear Godric, he was. He really was. And he sounded sincere about it, too. Cormac hated the very thought of it, but he knew that familiar swoop in his belly, that sudden spike of arousal in his groin. He was excited by the idea. Much as he wanted to believe he was over Malfoy, that he wanted nothing to do with him at all, and that the man didn't look absolutely edible in that suit he was wearing, he was excited by it.
He feigned, for a moment, that he had to consider it. As if it might, perhaps, be nothing more than a burden to him at this point. Then he nodded, drained his glass, and followed a smirking Malfoy out to the lobby. Originally, he'd thought they were headed for the Floos, but no. Instead Malfoy lead the way to the lifts―where, after pressing the button for the seventh floor, he wasted no time in crowding Cormac against the back wall.
"Since that one night, I've always been curious…" he admitted with a sly smirk, trailing one teasing finger down Cormac's abdomen to the top of his belt. The man responded by snogging him soundly.
They stumbled out of the lift, stealing heated kisses and tearing at each other's clothes. Cormac walked Malfoy backwards into their office, until they reached his desk, where the man flipped them around and shoved him down into his chair. Then Malfoy was on his knees, undoing the zipper on Cormac's trousers and fishing his hard cock out of the confines of his pants. When the Gryffindor looked down, it was at the most gorgeous of sights: those plump lips sliding smoothly over his shaft.
Holy fuck, Malfoy's mouth was magic. He wasn't just good, he knew exactly what he was doing―just where to lick, to suck, how far to take him in before pulling back again with tantalizing slowness and precision. He pumped the lower half with his hand while he bobbed his head, occasionally pausing to press the tip of his tongue to the pronounced vein on the underside. Cormac gripped the arms of his chair and tried not to show how much he was really enjoying it. He spared a fleeting thought for all the dopey-eyed men that he'd seen around Malfoy over the years and wondered if this was what had made them look like that whenever they were with him. He honestly couldn't say he blamed them.
But despite how fantastic it was, he wanted more. With every sweep of Malfoy's tongue over his cock, he found himself feeling that same burning desire from when they were young: that need to prove he reigned over the Slytherin, in all facets. He laced his fingers through those blonde locks and tugged, half choking when Malfoy moaned around his mouthful. Then with a commanding "Up," he had the man on his feet and was spinning him around to bend over the desk.
Cormac retrieved his wand and spelled both of their pants down to their ankles. Conjured lube wasn't his favorite, but they didn't have other options at this point, and so he gathered some in his hand and reached for the cleft between Malfoy's cheeks.
All those pairs of tight trousers hadn't even done the man justice. His arse was so much nicer in person than Cormac ever could've imagined it. It was round, perky, smooth, and looked absolutely stunning with his fingers slipping inside it, Malfoy arching it and moaning as he did so. He twisted his wrist, scissored him open, just to hear him make that sound again.
Soon after, he slicked his cock and gripped Malfoy's hips, positioning himself at his opening. It was a tighter fit than Cormac had assumed it would be, and he wasn't complaining about that. His eyes rolled back in his head as he pressed further on, till he could feel his balls brushing against the curve at the underside of Malfoy's perfect arse. The man was whimpering beautifully when Cormac finally began to thrust. The desk creaked from the force of his movements. Malfoy held on tight to each side and pushed back, meeting him stroke for stroke, moaning in that way Cormac had started to realize drove him wild. He grunted in his own way every time he bottomed out, his breath coming in sharp pants.
Cormac slipped a hand down to the underside of Malfoy's thigh, hiking it up in the hopes of a better angle. When the other man faltered at the sudden shift, Cormac looped his other arm around Malfoy's chest, holding onto the opposite shoulder to steady him. Malfoy seemed to enjoy the change, as he was now arching back against him more earnestly and moaning, "Oh gods, yes, McLaggen, just like that."
He finally had Malfoy under him, in more ways than one. Finally had a chance to show him just who was the better catch, after all these years. And yet…He blamed that amazing blowjob for how well Malfoy's charms were working on him now. He was quickly losing himself in the rhythm of their union, in the sounds, and the feeling of Malfoy's taut body beneath him. His skin was supple, his scent intoxicating, his mouth sinful, and Cormac felt like he'd flung himself down a hole with no bottom in sight.
Fuck, he was going to come―was in fact barreling towards the edge like a runaway freight train. He was breathing down the man's neck, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his damnedest to prevent it, but there was nothing he could do. Next thing he knew, he was there, groaning embarrassingly loud as he suddenly burst, emptying himself into Malfoy's arse in hot, quick spurts. Those muscles clenched around him as Malfoy gasped, making it all the sweeter. It was honestly the best orgasm he'd ever had. And he couldn't have been more humiliated.
He had to save face somehow, and so he promptly withdrew, spun Malfoy around, and dropped to his knees. Much as he thought highly of himself, he knew he was nowhere near as amazing at this as his counterpart had been, but he could get the job done nonetheless. It took merely a few good strokes of his tongue before Malfoy was filling his mouth, his thighs trembling and a hand clutching at Cormac's hair in a painfully pleasurable way that made that feeling of victory swell in his chest.
They relaxed for a moment, Malfoy slumped against the desk, Cormac's forehead pressed against his thigh, waiting until their breathing slowed. Then Malfoy charmed them clean, and they dressed in silence.
Cormac couldn't help but still feel embarrassed about how quickly he'd come. He kept looking away whenever Malfoy looked at him, when their elbows brushed accidentally, avoiding his gaze. Still, when he did finally choose to meet his eyes, Malfoy certainly didn't look like he hadn't enjoyed himself. They had that distinctive "I've just been properly shagged" shine to them, and he was grinning in that same goofy way Cormac had seen all his conquests sporting over the years.
Just as Cormac had finished buttoning his trousers, and was debating how best to make his exit, Malfoy looked at him again and said, "Well. That was certainly more fun than I'd anticipated."
"You weren't so bad yourself," he replied casually, cursing the crack in his voice, and trying to pretend that it wasn't "not so bad" so much as it was some of the best sex he'd had in his life.
"I still think you're an arse, but...who knows. Maybe I'll give you another go sometime."
Cormac felt something spark in his chest that he desperately wanted to ignore. He didn't like it, this feeling coming over him now. It had been lingering like a cold that he just couldn't get rid of, simmering under the surface all this time―and it was hitting him full force, a tidal wave of feelings he'd never experienced with anyone else before. Then Malfoy gave him a firm peck on the lips and a little wave, before heading out the door, leaving Cormac standing there aghast for what was now the third time in their history.
Even after all that, he still wasn't sure just who'd come out on top.
Author/Artist:
Characters: Cormac/Draco
Prompt Number: #74 - Cormac/Pansy or Cormac/Draco. The self-titled King of Gryffindor wants a shot at the King/Queen of Slytherin House, if only to prove he's the better monarch.
Word Count: 5,049
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: EWE, Canon Divergent, Bisexual!Cormac, Underage Drinking, Referenced Drug Usage, Consensual Underage Kissing, Public Kissing, Drunk Kissing, Frottage, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desk Sex, Quickies
Summary: There was nothing even all that special about Malfoy. Sure, he was pleasant enough to look at, if you liked the pointy, pale, platinum blonde sort. He had a nice arse―what could be discerned about it through those impossibly tight trousers he insisted upon wearing. And he was a decent kisser, from what Cormac could remember. Still, why all the men seemed to flock to him in droves, he thought he may never understand.
Disclaimer: Okay, so we pretty well know I’m not JKR. Because, honestly, if I was, the series would’ve been a lot less Harry and a lot more gay.
Author’s Notes: I've been turned on to the idea of these two for awhile now, and I'm happy to finally get to do something with them! A big thank you to my prompter for the inspiration! I hope you enjoy it. :3
It was a genius idea, if he did say so himself. Might go down in history, in fact.
He, Cormac McLaggen, was reigning King of Gryffindor―perhaps self-titled, but nonetheless. And why not? He was from an upstanding family with good connections. He was going to be a star Quidditch player when he was older―and now, as well, if their team got their act together by the time they were reinstated next year and decided to enlist him, as they should have already. He was charming, gorgeous, and every boy or girl who wasn't with him wished they were, and everyone that had been already rued the day they'd lost him. Just fifteen, and he was the talk of the town! Who else could say as much?
He could think of only one person: Draco Malfoy. Everything Cormac was for Gryffindor, Malfoy was for Slytherin. He was wealthy, of course, and he'd never been shy about how well his father knew various Ministry officials and the like. He was reasonably good-looking, performed well in his classes. Cormac didn't know the extent of his dating expertise thus far, but he'd seen it for some time now, how he could make those in his house swoon as he passed.
The issue Cormac had with it was he was just so damn pompous about it. He walked around the castle like he owned the place, and all the people in it. And he was only a fourth-year! Where did he get off thinking he was so bloody important already? It had pestered the Gryffindor to no end, especially over the last year or so, and he'd been conspiring for months on a way to teach him his proper place. Malfoy needed to be knocked down a peg―and Cormac had finally thought up the perfect way to do it.
He was going to make that boy fall for him. Obsess over him. Worship him like the born leader he was. And then, just when Malfoy was beginning to feel secure in his relationship with him, he was going to rip it all away! Cast him aside like week old rock cakes. He would show him who the true ruler really was. He would show him how a real man earned his spot on the totem pole. Malfoy would never forget him. He would spend the rest of his life knowing that he'd had the best, and it was too good for him.
It was brilliant. Except for one slight problem...
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're coming to the Yule Ball with me."
The poor kid seemed shocked silent by the suggestion. Cormac could understand. It wasn't every day that someone had the privilege of being asked out by a stunningly handsome Gryffindor, such as himself. He was a gentleman, and would of course allow him to take as much time as he needed to acclimate himself after such a heart-warming proposal.
By now, other students had paused in their daily routines to observe this history in the making. The corridor was littered with onlookers, creating a circle around the two of them. Their respective friends groups were equally as astounded. Cormac knew his own were probably admiring him now, from where they stood in a line behind him. They'd be secretly praising him for his boldness, his drive to take initiative in these cases. Malfoy had the usual lot with him: those two hulking thugs, and the petite, brunette girl, all of whom Cormac had never bothered to learn the names of. The pair of boys were wearing their typical confounded expressions―probably because they'd never seen a man so smooth before―and the girl kept glancing between him and Malfoy with something akin to fascination.
He could see now that Malfoy was sizing him up himself. Again, Cormac didn’t blame him; he was quite a lot to take in. They may be young still, but there was desire in his eyes, in his stance―he could see it. Malfoy cocked his head to the side, a small smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth. And then he finally said in that effortless, silken drawl of his:
"No."
Cormac blinked. His mouth opened―and snapped shut again once he realized he didn't know what to say. For the first time ever, he'd found himself speechless. Something wasn't right here, and he couldn't put his finger on what. He needed clarification for what he'd believed he'd heard just now before he could continue.
"What?"
A murmur ran through their audience. He could even hear his group whispering to each other behind him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He had to have heard Malfoy wrong. Had to have. Nothing about that word made sense, under the circumstances. One didn't say that when presented with an offer like this! And yet his worst fears were realized, even before Malfoy spoke again, in that small, derisive laugh he barked out.
"I said no, I'm in fact not." He shifted his weight as he checked with his cronies on either side of him. The girl was chuckling behind her hand now, and even those two idiots had seemed to catch on. They straightened themselves up with all the haughtiness they'd been parading around these halls for years and turned their backs on Cormac, Malfoy throwing a mocking "Ta," over his shoulder as they sauntered away.
Cormac would've been outraged, had he had the wherewithal to recognize what had just happened. Even after the crowd had begun to dissipate―with much mirth at his expense―he remained there, frozen and utterly confused. One of his mates came up and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder before they, too, left for class. And it was in that single pitying gesture that he finally realized it: that for the first time in his life, he'd been the one who'd lost.
***
It was on nights like these that Cormac thanked his lucky stars for Katie Bell. She was one of few people that he saw as his equal and didn't feel the need to sleep with. He found he could be an absolutely open book with her without any fear of appearing weak. And tonight he was exercising that right to the fullest, as he grew increasingly frustrated, intoxicated, and aroused, watching Malfoy from their sofa at the opposite side of the common room.
It had been two years since the most embarrassing―and only, as far as he was concerned―rejection of his life. The memory haunted him still. He'd never been more mortified than on that day, hearing that word coming from his treacherous lips. Half the school had been watching them, and it was all they'd talked about in the weeks following: how the mighty Cormac McLaggen had fallen. He'd silently cursed each one of them more times than he could count. And Malfoy. Malfoy stalked the halls like a supermodel ever since, taunting him, teasing him, holding that single humiliating moment over him.
There'd been something different about Malfoy for the past few months, however. He'd been...reserved. Introverted, even. Melancholy. Certainly not how Cormac had seen him in the years prior. He knew there was plenty a man like him could do to brighten the boy's days. If only he could find a way in somehow...He'd refused from the very start to take Malfoy's rejection lying down. He was the better man, and he was going to prove that to him some day, one way or another.
Katie had been his rock on this whole thing. She'd stuck by him, listened to him regurgitate the same complaints over and over again, even after his other companions had long since lost interest in the subject. She was very insightful, that one, and a good person to bounce ideas off of, for why things might have gone down the way they did. For a time, though, she'd taken to insisting that if he was still so hung up about it, that he should speak to Malfoy directly. First of all, he wasn't "hung up," so much as dumbfounded that anyone could look at him and find it in themselves to turn him down. Second, he was going to do that, he really was! Eventually. He was simply waiting for the opportune moment.
"I just don't understand it," Cormac eventually mused aloud, once he'd reached the bottom of his fourth shot of Ogden's.
"Don't understand what?" Katie replied monotonously, her tone betraying how many times they'd begun a conversation just this way in the past couple years.
"Why he said no." He heard her sigh to herself beside him, but soldiered on anyhow, "I mean, I know he's gay. Why wouldn't he say yes?"
"We all know he's gay," Katie agreed, with more than a hint of irritation. "He just might not be gay for you."
Cormac turned to her, his brow furrowing. "I don't know what you mean by that."
A pause, in which she took a painstakingly deep breath, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, as if thinking better of it. Finally, she muttered, "I know you don't," before getting up and adding, a little louder, "You want another?"
Cormac glanced down at the empty glass she was gesturing to, where he'd left it on the coffee table. Well, that was certainly her trying to escape from a conversation, if he'd ever seen the likes of it. But another drink could possibly assist him with escaping the topic as well, so he shrugged. "Sure."
Turned out he couldn't have been more wrong. The additional alcohol didn't so much as help him get over his obsession as it exasperated it. It was also making his staring much less inconspicuous, evidenced by how Malfoy kept looking his way with that knowing smirk. Honestly, he was trying not to do it! It may have been a Slytherin party, but nearly the entire sixth and seventh years were in attendance, and even some fifth-years as well. There were plenty of other people for him to set his sights on―and even some whose hearts he hadn't broken yet. He could've had anyone...and yet he couldn't stop looking at Malfoy long enough to try.
It was by some divine intervention that his target ended up on the same sofa as him, just as the night was beginning to wind down. Cormac couldn't help but grin to himself as Malfoy settled in beside him. He'd been dancing with a brunette Slytherin boy that Cormac had also never bothered to learn the name of for the better part of the past hour―and the Gryffindor had been watching with rapt attention. Locks of his white blonde hair stuck to Malfoy's sweaty forehead, and his cheeks were flushed. He was breathing a little heavily as well, and Cormac felt a shiver creep up his spine as he watched his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips.
Cormac scanned the room for Katie and found her chatting up a Ravenclaw by the drinks station. Their other friends had already retired back to Gryffindor Tower. By the look of things, many of Malfoy's cohorts were starting to do the same. No one was paying them any mind. And so Cormac decided he might as well go for it.
He shifted in his seat till he was fully facing him, one arm draped nonchalantly across the back of the couch between them. Malfoy looked at him as well, smiling slyly. The gloomy kid Cormac had seen for much of the term was gone, replaced with something else entirely, a glimmer of his former self.
"Alright, Malfoy?"
For a moment, he was sizing him up, as he had on that day. The state of his pupils said he might've currently been influenced by more than just drink, but Cormac wasn't thinking much about that. He was more focused on the rosy tint of Malfoy's lips as sucked the lower one between his teeth. Then he nodded his head towards the back of the room, to the hall that lead to their dormitories. There was no misinterpreting that message.
Malfoy gave the prettiest little moan when Cormac shoved him against the wall. They'd barely made it halfway down the corridor before he'd pounced. Malfoy didn't seem to mind, and that was all the green light Cormac needed. He cupped the back of the boy's head and tilted it up to press their open mouths together, their tongues tangling between them. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Cormac's neck and threaded his fingers through his hair, tugging just so, in that way he'd always liked. He arched and moaned again when Cormac rolled his hips, pressing him flat against the stone behind him, not a centimeter's width between them now.
A couple girls passed them by on the way to their own dorm, laughing and suggesting the boys "get a room." Their comment went largely ignored by Cormac, as he currently had Malfoy rutting against him and sucking on his tongue in a way that suggested he might be equally as good at doing so to another part of his anatomy entirely.
He'd never thought Malfoy was this good of a kisser. Really, he had to hand it to him. Maybe there was a reason why so many in his year seemed so obsessed with him themselves. He knew just how to tilt his head, and their teeth never clacked together, as Cormac had encountered with several less skilled people he'd been with. Perhaps he'd had more experience than he'd ever given him credit for.
Cormac trailed his hands down Malfoy's sides, mapping his slender frame under his fingertips. When he reached his hips, he slid around to pull his lower half away from the wall, kneading his pert arse as he ground their hips together. Malfoy gasped between them, then threw his head back, allowing Cormac full access to devour his throat. He could feel the boy's arousal through his trousers, and it sent a thrill of triumph through his gut.
Then something altogether perplexing happened. The first thing he felt was Malfoy's hands―which had previously been occupied with clawing his back through his jumper, and were now pressing against his chest, pushing him backwards. He didn't move, initially, but continued to nip at a spot just beneath his earlobe. It wasn't until the push became a shove that he finally stepped back and fixed him with an interrogatory glare.
Oh Merlin, he didn't like that look. It was sickeningly familiar, and he knew immediately why: it was the same way Malfoy had looked at him just before he'd said that dreaded word. That smirk―the same one Cormac had been wishing he could punch off his entitled face for years―spread across his kiss-chapped lips and he said:
"You really didn't think I'd make it that easy for you, did you?"
And then he was gone. Gone, down the hall and into his dorm, the door swinging shut definitively behind that sweet arse Cormac had just had his hands full of. He left the Gryffindor standing there, jaw slackened, incredibly hard, and fuming so outrageously that there might have been fire and brimstone pouring out his ears. In a second of blind rage, he lashed out, slamming his fist against the wall where Malfoy's head had just been. For a moment, he contemplated chasing after him, demanding an explanation for what had just happened. But he felt too foolish. Defeated, he eventually wandered back out into the common room to find Katie and head home. She took one look at him and knew―and he gave her one that suggested she'd do better not to ask.
***
He really couldn't understand it.
There was nothing even all that special about Malfoy. Sure, he was pleasant enough to look at, if you liked the pointy, pale, platinum blonde sort. He had a nice arse―what could be discerned about it through those impossibly tight trousers he insisted upon wearing. And he was a decent kisser, from what Cormac could remember. Still, why all the men seemed to flock to him in droves, he thought he may never understand.
It had been this way for years now. After Cormac had graduated, and with the war and all, he didn't think he'd ever have to be in the same room as Malfoy again. Unfortunately, he'd only realized how wrong he'd been the day his boss had approached his desk with a cocky Malfoy beside him and introduced him as his new coworker. He should've seen it coming, really. Malfoy had been a fairly adequate Seeker in his own right. And where did Quidditch players who couldn't make it as a professional go? Why, to the Department of Magical Games and Sports, of course. Cormac just hadn't thought they'd hire someone with his...history. Especially in the climate at that time. He'd been terribly wrong on that one, apparently.
So for years now, they'd shared an office, their desks hardly enough feet away from each other to make things bearable. And for years, Cormac had been tortured with all the attention Malfoy seemed to receive on an almost daily basis. It was astounding, actually. How could anyone look at him, knowing full well he was a Death Eater―reformed or not, Cormac wasn't one to let something like that slide―and still be as interested as they all were?
One of the regulars was there now. A post boy, who often made a point of lingering at the Slytherin's workstation for longer than was appropriate, even on the days when he didn't have any mail to deliver to him. Right now, Malfoy was laughing lightheartedly at something the man had said, biting his bottom lip as he looked up at him in what was clearly a suggestion. For his part, the clerk looked positively beside himself. It was a disgusting display, to say the least.
"Ponce," Cormac muttered under his breath, attempting to return to his own paperwork. He thought Malfoy might've glanced his way just then, but he didn't bother looking up to find out.
The remainder of the day was, thankfully, uneventful. Cormac was pleased to find he'd gone for hours without any more distractions from his unwanted cellmate. That was, until Malfoy got up at barely a quarter past five and announced he was going to get ready and head down to the reception they were hosting for the DMLE. Apparently they'd achieved some sort of milestone. Whatever it was, Cormac hadn't found it in him to care, although he had planned to attend himself. He ground his teeth in irritation as he watched that same fine backside that he'd lost out on all those years ago exit with a flourish, the door slamming shut behind it.
When the clock struck six, Cormac finally set aside his work for the day and retired to the private bathroom at the end of the hall to change. He emerged nearly half an hour later, simply dazzling, with his hair freshly styled and his suit clean pressed. He vowed he wasn't going to allow Malfoy to ruin his night, as he so often ruined his days―and even if he did, he was at the very least going to look smashing while it happened. Maybe he'd end up leaving with someone. Merlin knew it had been far too long, although he would never admit that to anyone, not even Katie.
The party was tolerable. There was a shortage of boring speeches, which was always good, and there was an open bar and plenty of good food. Even some good company, as Cormac had found many of his acquaintances from other departments were there as well, and thus he'd been able to spend much of the time without having to acknowledge the ever looming presence of Malfoy at all.
It wasn't until later on in the night, when Cormac was standing against the far wall, polishing off his last drink and deciding to give up on finding a partner for the evening and pack it in, that Malfoy approached him. Had the former not been watching his every move for the past ten minutes, he might not have even noticed him, the way he slid so gracefully into the space on the opposite side of the high table he was leaning against. Cormac was immediately reminded by the hue of Malfoy's cheeks of that night back in his seventh year, although the man didn't appear anywhere near as intoxicated as he'd been then. Cormac wasn't, either, which he found he was grateful for.
"Alright, McLaggen?"
Cormac shrugged, trying to make it as painfully obvious as possible that he would love nothing more than for the other man to sod off. Instead of leaving, Malfoy chuckled to himself, reaching out to place his empty champagne flute on a waiter's tray as they passed by.
"You know, for someone who's as keen on having me as you are, I'd think you'd be a bit more courteous when we speak."
Cormac raised an eyebrow, to which Malfoy responded in kind. He was confused by the statement. He wasn't "keen on having him," at least not anymore. That genius plan of his had backfired on him―twice!―and he'd long since resolved that he didn't need to prove anything to this pompous bastard at all. Cormac knew he was the better man, and his friends and past lovers knew it, too. Who cared if Malfoy knew? He was probably too thick it ever get it, anyway.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please, you've been after me for years." Cormac bristled, but didn't retort. Malfoy sighed, then: "Alright, finish up your drink, and let's go."
Okay, now he was really lost. What was Malfoy playing at? It sounded like...Was he propositioning him? Cormac blinked, distrusting. He'd fallen for that act once before, and he wasn't about to do it again.
"I'm sorry?"
"Let's go. I'm finally accepting your offer, McLaggen, or is it not still on the table?"
Oh dear Godric, he was. He really was. And he sounded sincere about it, too. Cormac hated the very thought of it, but he knew that familiar swoop in his belly, that sudden spike of arousal in his groin. He was excited by the idea. Much as he wanted to believe he was over Malfoy, that he wanted nothing to do with him at all, and that the man didn't look absolutely edible in that suit he was wearing, he was excited by it.
He feigned, for a moment, that he had to consider it. As if it might, perhaps, be nothing more than a burden to him at this point. Then he nodded, drained his glass, and followed a smirking Malfoy out to the lobby. Originally, he'd thought they were headed for the Floos, but no. Instead Malfoy lead the way to the lifts―where, after pressing the button for the seventh floor, he wasted no time in crowding Cormac against the back wall.
"Since that one night, I've always been curious…" he admitted with a sly smirk, trailing one teasing finger down Cormac's abdomen to the top of his belt. The man responded by snogging him soundly.
They stumbled out of the lift, stealing heated kisses and tearing at each other's clothes. Cormac walked Malfoy backwards into their office, until they reached his desk, where the man flipped them around and shoved him down into his chair. Then Malfoy was on his knees, undoing the zipper on Cormac's trousers and fishing his hard cock out of the confines of his pants. When the Gryffindor looked down, it was at the most gorgeous of sights: those plump lips sliding smoothly over his shaft.
Holy fuck, Malfoy's mouth was magic. He wasn't just good, he knew exactly what he was doing―just where to lick, to suck, how far to take him in before pulling back again with tantalizing slowness and precision. He pumped the lower half with his hand while he bobbed his head, occasionally pausing to press the tip of his tongue to the pronounced vein on the underside. Cormac gripped the arms of his chair and tried not to show how much he was really enjoying it. He spared a fleeting thought for all the dopey-eyed men that he'd seen around Malfoy over the years and wondered if this was what had made them look like that whenever they were with him. He honestly couldn't say he blamed them.
But despite how fantastic it was, he wanted more. With every sweep of Malfoy's tongue over his cock, he found himself feeling that same burning desire from when they were young: that need to prove he reigned over the Slytherin, in all facets. He laced his fingers through those blonde locks and tugged, half choking when Malfoy moaned around his mouthful. Then with a commanding "Up," he had the man on his feet and was spinning him around to bend over the desk.
Cormac retrieved his wand and spelled both of their pants down to their ankles. Conjured lube wasn't his favorite, but they didn't have other options at this point, and so he gathered some in his hand and reached for the cleft between Malfoy's cheeks.
All those pairs of tight trousers hadn't even done the man justice. His arse was so much nicer in person than Cormac ever could've imagined it. It was round, perky, smooth, and looked absolutely stunning with his fingers slipping inside it, Malfoy arching it and moaning as he did so. He twisted his wrist, scissored him open, just to hear him make that sound again.
Soon after, he slicked his cock and gripped Malfoy's hips, positioning himself at his opening. It was a tighter fit than Cormac had assumed it would be, and he wasn't complaining about that. His eyes rolled back in his head as he pressed further on, till he could feel his balls brushing against the curve at the underside of Malfoy's perfect arse. The man was whimpering beautifully when Cormac finally began to thrust. The desk creaked from the force of his movements. Malfoy held on tight to each side and pushed back, meeting him stroke for stroke, moaning in that way Cormac had started to realize drove him wild. He grunted in his own way every time he bottomed out, his breath coming in sharp pants.
Cormac slipped a hand down to the underside of Malfoy's thigh, hiking it up in the hopes of a better angle. When the other man faltered at the sudden shift, Cormac looped his other arm around Malfoy's chest, holding onto the opposite shoulder to steady him. Malfoy seemed to enjoy the change, as he was now arching back against him more earnestly and moaning, "Oh gods, yes, McLaggen, just like that."
He finally had Malfoy under him, in more ways than one. Finally had a chance to show him just who was the better catch, after all these years. And yet…He blamed that amazing blowjob for how well Malfoy's charms were working on him now. He was quickly losing himself in the rhythm of their union, in the sounds, and the feeling of Malfoy's taut body beneath him. His skin was supple, his scent intoxicating, his mouth sinful, and Cormac felt like he'd flung himself down a hole with no bottom in sight.
Fuck, he was going to come―was in fact barreling towards the edge like a runaway freight train. He was breathing down the man's neck, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his damnedest to prevent it, but there was nothing he could do. Next thing he knew, he was there, groaning embarrassingly loud as he suddenly burst, emptying himself into Malfoy's arse in hot, quick spurts. Those muscles clenched around him as Malfoy gasped, making it all the sweeter. It was honestly the best orgasm he'd ever had. And he couldn't have been more humiliated.
He had to save face somehow, and so he promptly withdrew, spun Malfoy around, and dropped to his knees. Much as he thought highly of himself, he knew he was nowhere near as amazing at this as his counterpart had been, but he could get the job done nonetheless. It took merely a few good strokes of his tongue before Malfoy was filling his mouth, his thighs trembling and a hand clutching at Cormac's hair in a painfully pleasurable way that made that feeling of victory swell in his chest.
They relaxed for a moment, Malfoy slumped against the desk, Cormac's forehead pressed against his thigh, waiting until their breathing slowed. Then Malfoy charmed them clean, and they dressed in silence.
Cormac couldn't help but still feel embarrassed about how quickly he'd come. He kept looking away whenever Malfoy looked at him, when their elbows brushed accidentally, avoiding his gaze. Still, when he did finally choose to meet his eyes, Malfoy certainly didn't look like he hadn't enjoyed himself. They had that distinctive "I've just been properly shagged" shine to them, and he was grinning in that same goofy way Cormac had seen all his conquests sporting over the years.
Just as Cormac had finished buttoning his trousers, and was debating how best to make his exit, Malfoy looked at him again and said, "Well. That was certainly more fun than I'd anticipated."
"You weren't so bad yourself," he replied casually, cursing the crack in his voice, and trying to pretend that it wasn't "not so bad" so much as it was some of the best sex he'd had in his life.
"I still think you're an arse, but...who knows. Maybe I'll give you another go sometime."
Cormac felt something spark in his chest that he desperately wanted to ignore. He didn't like it, this feeling coming over him now. It had been lingering like a cold that he just couldn't get rid of, simmering under the surface all this time―and it was hitting him full force, a tidal wave of feelings he'd never experienced with anyone else before. Then Malfoy gave him a firm peck on the lips and a little wave, before heading out the door, leaving Cormac standing there aghast for what was now the third time in their history.
Even after all that, he still wasn't sure just who'd come out on top.