Fic: Draco is Not a Bleach-Blond, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Draco is Not a Bleach-Blond
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s, OOC
Summary: Crack, only in that Draco is a total queen. He and Harry get into a fight and Harry accuses him of bleaching his hair. A fight and smut ensue, including Gryffindor-themed skirts and socks.
This one is entirely different than what I normally write. It's porn! That's what it is, I won't even pretend it isn't!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Draco is Not a Bleach-Blond
Draco sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, arms folded, with a pout so theatrical on his face that Blaise knew straight away he was in for a very long, very dramatic talk with Slytherin’s resident screaming queen.
He sighed.
“Stop pouting, Draco.”
“I am not pouting!”
Blaise clicked his tongue before scanning the room and choosing to take a seat in a chair across the room from Draco. Both boys remained silent for several seconds, Draco glaring heatedly at the opposite wall, Blaise waiting for the rant to begin. When it didn’t, he tried again.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Blaise raised a brow.
“Draco-”
“HE CALLED ME A BLEACH-BLOND, BLAISE!” And with that Draco burst into hysterics, resting his elbow on his crossed legs and obscuring his face in his hands. Blaise had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
“Well, did you tell him you’re not?”
Draco looked up so suddenly, so fiercely, that Blaise’s smile fell. Draco looked absolutely crushed, his copious amounts of black liner and mascara running freely down his cheeks.
“It is not something I should have to tell him!” he screeched. Blaise felt his eyes go wide and he nearly fell backwards in his chair. “IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS!” Draco stood up and crossed the floor to the body-length mirror hanging on the wall. It had lipstick-kisses decorating the perimeter and stickers around the trim. Draco looked at himself in the mirror histrionically. “I mean, does it look fake? Do I look like the kind of boy who would BLEACH MY HAIR, BLAISE?!” He spun around and glared at Blaise as though the answer to this question would determine whether or not Draco would off himself then and there.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” he said carefully. “Your mother and your father have the same shade-”
“It is not a shade, Blaise! IT’S PLATINUM BLOND!”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Blaise stood and walked over to Draco, cautiously reaching out to touch his arm. Draco sniffled but did not pull away. “And it’s a beautiful platinum blond. Did something happen to make him say that? Did you and Harry have a fight?”
Draco looked suddenly sheepish and cast his eyes downward, his cheeks coloring. Blaise smiled to himself.
“Uh oh, what do we have here?” Draco turned away from him and crossed his arms. Blaise chuckled. “Now, now, Draco, what did you say to Harry?” Draco groaned exaggeratedly and turned to face Blaise.
“All I said was that maybe he should do something about the absolute atrocity on top of his head.”
“Is that all?” Blaise raised his brows. Draco glared.
“Oh my God, okay, fine, I told him to stop messing up his hair to make it look like he’d just gotten off a broom! That’s all I said! And then he tells me to stop bleaching my hair!”
“Draco, you know he has trouble taming his hair!” Blaise yelled, trying hard not to laugh. “You are such an insensitive cow sometimes.” Draco rounded on him, looking ready to kill.
“You did not just call me that.”
“Oh, honey, I did. Now march that fabulous arse of yours to Gryffindor Tower and apologize to your man before I scoop him up for myself.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, believe me,” said Blaise, giving Draco a pointed look. “I would.”
Draco huffed and turned on the spot, storming out of the room so dramatically that Gilderoy Lockhart himself would have been impressed.
* * *
The Fat Lady did not seem to want to allow Draco entrance. She stood resolutely in her painting, glaring down at the eccentrically-dressed boy before her, arms crossed over her protruding stomach.
“You absolute cow!” he shrieked, causing the Fat Lady to narrow her eyes further. “Let me in there or I swear to you I will throw a monumental fit!” She’d been about to answer, but was stopped from doing so when the portrait swung forward, revealing a very confused Ginny Weasley. Draco fumed. “Where is he, you evil ginger slag?”
“Excuse me?” she spat, placing a hand on her hip. Draco mirrored her exaggeratedly and glared.
“You heard me, fire crotch. I know what you’re up to, trying to steal my boyfriend just because we had a fight! I know all about your ginger ways!” he said, waving his hand dramatically at her.
“What the hell are you on about, Malfoy?”
“Oh, please,” he drawled. She raised an eyebrow. “Everyone knows you have no soul.” Ginny’s mouth fell open and Draco smiled triumphantly. “Now be a good little copper pot and fetch my boyfriend before I'm forced to waste a perfectly good hex on you or something equally as horrifying.”
Ginny stormed back inside the common room and slammed the portrait shut behind her. Draco was certain she wouldn’t inform Harry that he was here, but he was also fairly sure the boy hero would be curious enough to find out what had angered the little Weasel that he’d come to check it out, perhaps hoping for a Dark wizard he could duel or some such nonsense.
Of course, Dark Magic was no match for Draco’s bitch fits, so he supposed Harry would be getting what he wanted in a sense.
Just as he’d expected, a few minutes later (and much glaring between himself and the Fat Lady), the portrait swung open again and Harry walked out, stopping in his tracks when he saw Draco.
"Draco?" he said, eyebrows drawn together. "What are you-?”
"Oh, don't even act like you don't know why I'm here, Potter," Draco said, holding a hand up and closing his eyes. When he reopened them he saw that Harry had his arms crossed and he was frowning.
"Did you need some more bleach, Malfoy?"
Draco's jaw dropped, scandalized. "You are really pushing it, Harry!" he shouted and was satisfied to see that Harry's frown fell away. "If you are ever planning on getting any of this ever again I suggest you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness, and that's at the very LEAST!"
He was absolutely appalled when the corner of Harry's mouth lifted into a smirk.
"I don't see what's so funny," he said coldly. And then Harry, smirk still in place, took a small step forward and Draco took a step back out of instinct. He scowled when he realized what he'd done. "Don’t you dare come any closer. Not until you apologize."
"What am I apologizing for?" Harry asked smoothly, continuing forward despite Draco's warning. Draco took another step back, all too aware that there was a wall only about a meter behind him.
"Don't play dumb, it's unflattering."
Harry took another few steps and Draco was pressed up against the wall. His apparently-amused boyfriend stood about half a meter away now, looking incredibly devious in Draco's opinion. And while it certainly infuriated him, it also served to make him feel very hot indeed. Harry had an annoying way of making Draco very aroused very quickly.
"Aw, come on, baby, you're not still mad about the blond thing, are you?"
"Don't call me baby!" Draco shouted. "I am not your baby!"
Harry closed the distance between them by pressing their bodies together and burying his face in Draco's neck. Draco gasped but didn't attempt to move away. He felt warm hands run down the length of his arms and then come to rest on his hips.
"You were my baby last night, remember?" Harry whispered, and a chill ran up Draco's spine.
"That was before you-ah!-accused me of being a b-bleach-blond!"
Draco bit his lip to hold back a moan when Harry nipped rather harshly at his jaw.
"You know I was just kidding, Draco . . ." he purred. Harry ducked his head lower so he could bite playfully at Draco's collarbone, which was peeking out of his very-low-cut V-neck shirt. Harry had told him months ago that he loved them. Draco had a very hard time restraining himself from running his hands through Harry's (spectacularly-disheveled) hair right now. "Don't you remember how nice last night was? How much you loved it when I spread your pretty little legs and shoved my fingers in-"
"Harry!" Draco practically screeched, cheeks flaming just from hearing those words come out of Harry's mouth outside of the bedroom (or whatever PRIVATE area in which they happened to be shagging). He heard Harry chuckle while he continued nipping along his neck and jaw. Draco felt like he was running out of breath.
"What?" Harry said softly, and now Draco could feel the hands on his hips moving backwards until they rested firmly on his arse. Harry pulled him forward roughly and Draco felt his boyfriend's very hard cock rub against his hip. He groaned. "You don't like having my fingers inside of you?"
"Harry," Draco said breathlessly, and found that he couldn't stop himself from gripping Harry's arms until he felt skin beneath his nails. He'd never been good at resisting Harry when he got into these moods.
"Mm, tell me what you want, baby." Harry was mouthing at Draco's pulse point and rocking his hips very subtly. "You want me to eat you out?" He moved up to nibble on Draco's ear and whispered, "Do you want me to fuck you, Draco? Want me to make you scream?"
"Oh, God, Harry, please," he whined, unaware that he was thrusting back against Harry's hips now. Harry laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips.
"I could eat you up right now," Harry said, and for emphasis he bit sharply at Draco's neck. Draco arched into him and moaned rather loudly for being in a public corridor right outside of the Gryffindor common room. "Unfortunately," Harry whispered into his ear, "I have a previous engagement to attend to, so you'll have to wait-"
"You're not going anywhere, Potter." If there was one thing Draco very much liked about himself (aside from all the other things), it was that he could manage to sound very commanding despite his femininity. He ran his hands gently under Harry's shirt and up his back before dragging his nails down so harshly that he felt the skin break. Harry gasped and a flame lit in his eyes. Draco felt himself harden further and at the same time that a spike of heat shot through his body he felt a little tingle of fear. Harry could be very rough when he wanted to.
But oh how he loved it.
Harry took one look at Draco-who was flushed and sweaty and still digging his nails into Harry's lower back-and practically growled. Draco rose up onto his toes when Harry leaned forward again and breathed hot air onto his ear.
"God, you're gagging for it, Draco," he whispered. Draco didn't have the patience to deny it. He merely whined and dug his nails in harder. He heard Harry suck in a breath a moment before another particularly harsh bite was administered to his neck. "You want this?"
"Yes," Draco breathed.
"How bad do you want it?"
Draco whimpered. "So much, Harry . . ."
Harry kissed Draco's chin and trailed up to his bottom lip where he hesitated.
"You'll have to do something special for me. I had other plans."
Draco swallowed nervously and peered at Harry, whose face was so close that it looked distorted. His green eyes, however, were as vibrant as ever, and they served to make Draco impossibly harder. He bit his lip and nodded, scratching along Harry's back just to let him know he still held some semblance of control. Harry smirked-though there was a comforting, loving grin behind it-and kissed Draco softly.
"I'll be right back," he said, and with another kiss he turned and disappeared into the common room. Draco was left standing before the Fat Lady-who was glaring at him like he'd just committed some horrible crime-with a raging erection and bruised lips.
He glared back.
Just as he was about to ask the Fat Lady just who she thought she was the portrait swung open and Harry stepped out, looking no different than before save for the fact that his cheeks were just a bit more flushed. He turned to close the portrait behind him and when he looked back at Draco he grinned mischievously.
He walked up to Draco and leaned in as if to kiss his neck, but instead he only breathed hotly across his throat, causing Draco to shiver. He grabbed the blond's hand and pulled away.
"Come on," he said softly, a twinkle in his eye. Draco didn't say anything, simply followed his crazy Gryffindor boyfriend down several corridors until they ended up outside the blank stretch of wall which signified the Room of Requirement. Harry walked past three times, eyes closed and face screwed up in concentration, opening them only when he heard the faint sound of a door popping into existence.
He grabbed Draco's hand again and led him inside.
It was a very stereotypical romantic setting: a large four-poster bed with silk sheets and lots of pillows; a roaring fire; a lovely little chaise that matched the bed; and, most importantly, a large selection of scented oils.
"Get on the couch."
Draco whipped around to look at Harry, who was smiling deviously, though he looked like he might lose his mind any second.
"The . . . the cou-"
"The couch," he said more sharply, yet no less seductively, and before Draco could even contemplate disobeying those instructions Harry was backing him up onto it. When he'd crawled on top of Draco and was kissing his neck, causing Draco to involuntarily arch up into him, he reached out and grabbed both of Draco's wrists and shoved them roughly behind his back.
"Ow! Harr-"
"Shh," Harry said soothingly, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along Draco's jaw now. "Just relax." He held both of Draco's wrists with one hand while he unfastened his own Gryffindor tie with the other. When he'd gotten it off he bound Draco's wrists behind his back with it. Draco stared up at him, wide-eyed.
"What are you doing?"
Instead of answering he dug into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of red cloth. But then he grabbed his wand and muttered a spell, and suddenly he was no longer holding a piece of fabric, but a rather short, plaited Gryffindor skirt that looked like it belonged in a porno shoot.
"Harry, what is that?"
Harry held it up for him and smirked.
"Do you like it? It's what you're wearing."
"What I'm wearing?!" He tried to sit up but Harry held him down with one hand. Draco glared. "I am not wearing a Gryffindor skirt."
"But you'd wear a Slytherin one." It wasn't a question. Harry's eyes were alight with both amusement and arousal. Draco held back a groan.
"I . . . I-"
"Will look ravishing." Harry held the skirt between his teeth as his hands roamed over Draco's body, stopping when they hovered above the belt of his denims. Draco couldn't decide whether to watch his trousers being undone or the skimpy skirt hanging out of Harry's mouth. Both were, admittedly, very nice to look at.
When he'd undone the belt and thrown it on the floor he removed the skirt from his mouth. "See, I tied you up because I knew you'd never let me put you in a Gryffindor skirt if you could help it," he said as he slowly, teasing, slid Draco's very tight trousers and pants down his legs and threw them to the other side of the room. His cock was already hard and nearly pressed up against his stomach, a small drop of precome hanging ominously above his black shirt.
The fabric of the skirt felt smooth and delicate against Draco's hairless legs (which he'd just shaved that morning) as Harry slid it into place. It was just the right size, resting perfectly below his hip bones. Harry lifted Draco's shirt to just below his navel and groaned. The tip of Draco's pink cock stuck out, practically begging to be touched.
Harry bent over and licked it, just once, and Draco's head fell back with a long moan.
He watched with wide eyes as Harry peeled his own shirt off, exposing a very toned, very tanned chest that had Draco's mouthwatering. Harry bent over and, without letting their chests touch, whispered in Draco's ear: "Like what you see?"
Draco mewled and tried to buck up to no avail.
"Touch me, Harry," he whined, and succeeded only in eliciting a chuckle from Harry.
"I have something else for you to wear, baby." Harry sat back again on his heels and dug something out of his other pocket. Draco watched with trepidation as he pulled out two long, white socks, the very top of both adorned with two Gryffindor-colored stripes.
He laid one down across Draco's abdomen and gently lifted one of his knees so he could slip a sock over his foot. He left a trail of kisses along Draco's pale leg as he pulled the sock up. It stopped at his knee: several centimeters before the edge of the skirt. He did the same thing with the other sock, only he didn't stop kissing Draco's leg when he'd pulled this one all the way up. He continued until he had to lift the skirt, placing biting kisses along the inside of his thigh.
Draco couldn’t see Harry’s face anymore; it was entirely obscured by his skirt. The only thing visible was the mop of black hair sticking up at all angles, clashing tremendously with the maroon and thin gold stripes of the fabric. Draco’s breath hitched and, since he couldn’t move his hands, his whole body arched when he felt the mouth trailing up his leg reach his balls and a slimy tongue lick at the crease of his thigh and cock. Harry’s hands came up to grab Draco’s waist and licked a broader stripe, eliciting a low moan from the blond above him. Draco bit his bottom lip and watched Harry’s head intently even though he couldn’t see what was going on beneath the skirt.
Harry didn’t do any more licking, however, but pulled back and climbed over Draco until their noses were centimeters apart.
“You sound like a whore when you moan, do you know that?”
Draco sneered at him before defiantly looking away. Harry chuckled and gripped his chin hard, forcing their eyes to meet again.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he said, and bent to nip at Draco’s ear. Draco wished he had the control to keep from stretching out his neck, but he didn’t. “You love it when I call you a whore, don’t you, Draco?” Draco made a little mewling noise and Harry gripped his hips in response, grinding down onto his cock.
“Harry!”
Harry laughed and dug his blunt fingernails in harder. “Yes?”
“Please . . .”
“Please what?”
Draco gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying with all his might not to rock up into the hard cock he could feel against his hip.
“Harry . . .”
“Tell me what you want, baby,” Harry whispered, and he breathed hotly across Draco’s throat. “Or you won’t get anything at all.”
Draco whimpered. “Harry . . . Fuck me. Please, fuck me . . .”
“You want me to fuck you?” Harry repeated, the increase in his breathing both audible and felt on Draco’s neck.
“Yes . . .”
“Yeah?” Harry rose up so he was hovering higher above Draco’s face and began unbuckling his belt and denims. He kept eye contact with Draco the whole time. “You want my fingers in you?” Draco nodded fervently. “Tell me.”
“I want your fingers in me, Harry,” he said quickly, having given up the façade. “I want you so deep in me I can’t breathe.”
He saw Harry’s eyes go slightly wide and suddenly, before he’d even taken his dick out of his pants, he was sucking on two of his fingers and then his hand had disappeared beneath the skirt. Draco moaned softly when he felt one finger slip between his arse cheeks and circle his entrance. This part was so gentle that Draco wasn’t expecting it to be shoved roughly inside, all the way to the first knuckle, and he gasped and threw his head back in a combination of pain and roaring pleasure.
“How’s that?” Harry breathed against his ear. Draco had to physically force himself to comprehend these words and come up with a response. Even as the question had been asked the finger had been sliding deeper inside his body.
“So . . . good.” He wanted so badly to reach up and grab Harry’s face; to pull him down into an earthshattering kiss. But he couldn’t, and he knew if he asked Harry would deny it. He loved being in charge, loved dominating and controlling Draco. And even though he would sometimes deny it, Draco loved it too. So much, in fact, that it didn’t take long for him to start begging for more.
Harry was apparently losing control as well, because he shoved a second finger in shortly thereafter and then a third, and it took almost no time at all for him to start pounding them into Draco mercilessly.
“I can’t wait to have my cock inside you, baby,” Harry said against Draco’s ear. Draco clenched himself around the fingers fucking his arse and arched when he heard Harry groan.
“Why don’t you get on with it, then?”
Draco squealed and his eyes shot open when the fingers were abruptly removed and a sharp slap was administered to his bare bottom. Harry was grinning playfully.
“I’d keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if I were you,” he said, all the while palming his cock through his pants, his denims hanging open around them. “Unless, of course, you’re begging. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Draco?” Draco didn’t answer; he didn’t think Harry had meant for him to. He watched as the Wizarding world’s hero pulled his thick, leaking cock from the confines of his boxer shorts and stroked the length twice. Draco groaned and Harry looked up.
“See something you like?”
“Harry . . .” he whispered, entirely aware of how pathetic he sounded and unable to find it within himself to care. A loving look crossed Harry’s face and he bent down to kiss Draco soundly. When he sat back up he used the hand not on his cock to lift Draco’s skirt, freeing Draco’s own dick from the waistline. He positioned the blunt head at Draco’s entrance and prodded gently. Draco’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to thrust, but to no avail.
“Such a needy little whore,” he purred, and before Draco could respond with a sneer or snarky comment he thrust inside, all the way to the hilt, groaning when his balls slapped lightly against Draco’s arse. Draco wrapped his sock-clad feet around Harry’s waist and pulled him in as deeply as he could get him. “God, Draco, you’re so tight every fucking time.”
And then he pulled out slowly, watching with rapt attention as Draco hissed and arched and writhed, and slammed back in without remorse. He leaned down and kissed Draco softly, just a brush of the lips.
“Do you like being fucked, baby?” he whispered against his lips. Draco didn’t seem to be able to say a thing back, let alone respond to the kiss. Harry continued to kiss him, though. He bit and licked and nibbled and Draco let it happen, reveling in the cock sliding so deeply into his body and then back out; loving the way Harry smelled and felt and sounded and the way he seemed to envelope Draco in his essence. Draco felt perfect beneath Harry; like he belonged there. And despite the things Harry said to him, and the things Harry called him, nothing would ever make him feel any different. Because Harry loved him and he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Harry’s hands slipped suddenly behind his back and he fumbled a bit before releasing the tie, allowing Draco to bring his arms around and hold Harry against him. Harry sucked on his neck and his thrusting increased in both speed and intensity, while his groaning turned into moans and gasps of unbearable pleasure.
“Make me come, Harry,” Draco finally managed, squeezing his legs more tightly around the boy above him. Harry thrust particularly deeply, hitting his prostate squarely, and stilled. Draco nearly shrieked.
“You wanna come?”
“Harry!”
Harry didn’t relent. He stayed put, rubbing against Draco’s prostate, nails digging half-moon bruises into his pale sides.
“Tell me how badly.”
“Ha-Harry-”
“I’m not moving till you tell me, Draco,” he whispered, though Draco could hear a slight tremor in his voice. This must have been excruciating for him as well, but apparently he was able to deal with it in order to torture Draco.
“Harry, I can’t-”
“Tell me, Draco,” he growled, and his fingers gripped harder, and Draco dragged his nails down Harry’s back. Harry hissed but didn’t moved.
“Please, Harry, let me come! I need to come!”
“How bad?”
Draco could have screamed. He clenched around Harry’s cock and started saying anything that happened to run through his mind.
“I’ll die, Harry, please, please, I need it so badly-!”
But that seemed to do the trick because he pulled out and slammed back in, hitting Draco’s prostate again, and Draco was coming harder than he ever had in his life. He was arching up into Harry, his nails probably drawing blood, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back, and he was shouting Harry’s name so loud the room itself appeared to shudder.
He vaguely felt it when Harry moaned and released himself, stalling for longer inside Draco’s body on each thrust, and eventually stopped altogether, barely holding himself up with his arms on either side of Draco’s head, his hot breath floating across Draco’s face.
They both managed to open their eyes after a few moments and Harry chuckled.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful, Draco.”
Draco flushed and looked away. Harry bent to kiss his cheek and then flopped down on top of him. Draco’s eyes went wide and a breath gushed out .
“Harry,” he rasped. “Can we move to the bed?”
“Mm? Oh, yeah, all right.”
He heaved himself off the chaise and kicked off his denims and pants, taking a moment to spell himself and Draco clean, and then, after a moment of thought, stripped Draco as well. He carried him to bed and tucked him in before crawling in behind and wrapping his arms around the blond, immediately burying his face in his neck.
“Why are there oils if you weren’t planning on using them?” Draco asked after having eyed the bottles for a minute. “And a bed?”
“I thought it would be fun to fuck you raw in a romantic room. But I guess the bed turned out being worthwhile, eh?”
Draco snuggled back more into Harry and Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms more tightly around the smaller boy.
“Do you really think I bleach my hair?”
Harry laughed loudly this time and nuzzled Draco’s hair.
“Nah.” He kissed Draco’s neck and ran his hands over the nest of hair surrounding Draco’s cock. “You’re much too classy for that.”
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s, OOC
Summary: Crack, only in that Draco is a total queen. He and Harry get into a fight and Harry accuses him of bleaching his hair. A fight and smut ensue, including Gryffindor-themed skirts and socks.
This one is entirely different than what I normally write. It's porn! That's what it is, I won't even pretend it isn't!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Draco is Not a Bleach-Blond
Draco sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, arms folded, with a pout so theatrical on his face that Blaise knew straight away he was in for a very long, very dramatic talk with Slytherin’s resident screaming queen.
He sighed.
“Stop pouting, Draco.”
“I am not pouting!”
Blaise clicked his tongue before scanning the room and choosing to take a seat in a chair across the room from Draco. Both boys remained silent for several seconds, Draco glaring heatedly at the opposite wall, Blaise waiting for the rant to begin. When it didn’t, he tried again.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Blaise raised a brow.
“Draco-”
“HE CALLED ME A BLEACH-BLOND, BLAISE!” And with that Draco burst into hysterics, resting his elbow on his crossed legs and obscuring his face in his hands. Blaise had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
“Well, did you tell him you’re not?”
Draco looked up so suddenly, so fiercely, that Blaise’s smile fell. Draco looked absolutely crushed, his copious amounts of black liner and mascara running freely down his cheeks.
“It is not something I should have to tell him!” he screeched. Blaise felt his eyes go wide and he nearly fell backwards in his chair. “IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS!” Draco stood up and crossed the floor to the body-length mirror hanging on the wall. It had lipstick-kisses decorating the perimeter and stickers around the trim. Draco looked at himself in the mirror histrionically. “I mean, does it look fake? Do I look like the kind of boy who would BLEACH MY HAIR, BLAISE?!” He spun around and glared at Blaise as though the answer to this question would determine whether or not Draco would off himself then and there.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” he said carefully. “Your mother and your father have the same shade-”
“It is not a shade, Blaise! IT’S PLATINUM BLOND!”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Blaise stood and walked over to Draco, cautiously reaching out to touch his arm. Draco sniffled but did not pull away. “And it’s a beautiful platinum blond. Did something happen to make him say that? Did you and Harry have a fight?”
Draco looked suddenly sheepish and cast his eyes downward, his cheeks coloring. Blaise smiled to himself.
“Uh oh, what do we have here?” Draco turned away from him and crossed his arms. Blaise chuckled. “Now, now, Draco, what did you say to Harry?” Draco groaned exaggeratedly and turned to face Blaise.
“All I said was that maybe he should do something about the absolute atrocity on top of his head.”
“Is that all?” Blaise raised his brows. Draco glared.
“Oh my God, okay, fine, I told him to stop messing up his hair to make it look like he’d just gotten off a broom! That’s all I said! And then he tells me to stop bleaching my hair!”
“Draco, you know he has trouble taming his hair!” Blaise yelled, trying hard not to laugh. “You are such an insensitive cow sometimes.” Draco rounded on him, looking ready to kill.
“You did not just call me that.”
“Oh, honey, I did. Now march that fabulous arse of yours to Gryffindor Tower and apologize to your man before I scoop him up for myself.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, believe me,” said Blaise, giving Draco a pointed look. “I would.”
Draco huffed and turned on the spot, storming out of the room so dramatically that Gilderoy Lockhart himself would have been impressed.
* * *
The Fat Lady did not seem to want to allow Draco entrance. She stood resolutely in her painting, glaring down at the eccentrically-dressed boy before her, arms crossed over her protruding stomach.
“You absolute cow!” he shrieked, causing the Fat Lady to narrow her eyes further. “Let me in there or I swear to you I will throw a monumental fit!” She’d been about to answer, but was stopped from doing so when the portrait swung forward, revealing a very confused Ginny Weasley. Draco fumed. “Where is he, you evil ginger slag?”
“Excuse me?” she spat, placing a hand on her hip. Draco mirrored her exaggeratedly and glared.
“You heard me, fire crotch. I know what you’re up to, trying to steal my boyfriend just because we had a fight! I know all about your ginger ways!” he said, waving his hand dramatically at her.
“What the hell are you on about, Malfoy?”
“Oh, please,” he drawled. She raised an eyebrow. “Everyone knows you have no soul.” Ginny’s mouth fell open and Draco smiled triumphantly. “Now be a good little copper pot and fetch my boyfriend before I'm forced to waste a perfectly good hex on you or something equally as horrifying.”
Ginny stormed back inside the common room and slammed the portrait shut behind her. Draco was certain she wouldn’t inform Harry that he was here, but he was also fairly sure the boy hero would be curious enough to find out what had angered the little Weasel that he’d come to check it out, perhaps hoping for a Dark wizard he could duel or some such nonsense.
Of course, Dark Magic was no match for Draco’s bitch fits, so he supposed Harry would be getting what he wanted in a sense.
Just as he’d expected, a few minutes later (and much glaring between himself and the Fat Lady), the portrait swung open again and Harry walked out, stopping in his tracks when he saw Draco.
"Draco?" he said, eyebrows drawn together. "What are you-?”
"Oh, don't even act like you don't know why I'm here, Potter," Draco said, holding a hand up and closing his eyes. When he reopened them he saw that Harry had his arms crossed and he was frowning.
"Did you need some more bleach, Malfoy?"
Draco's jaw dropped, scandalized. "You are really pushing it, Harry!" he shouted and was satisfied to see that Harry's frown fell away. "If you are ever planning on getting any of this ever again I suggest you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness, and that's at the very LEAST!"
He was absolutely appalled when the corner of Harry's mouth lifted into a smirk.
"I don't see what's so funny," he said coldly. And then Harry, smirk still in place, took a small step forward and Draco took a step back out of instinct. He scowled when he realized what he'd done. "Don’t you dare come any closer. Not until you apologize."
"What am I apologizing for?" Harry asked smoothly, continuing forward despite Draco's warning. Draco took another step back, all too aware that there was a wall only about a meter behind him.
"Don't play dumb, it's unflattering."
Harry took another few steps and Draco was pressed up against the wall. His apparently-amused boyfriend stood about half a meter away now, looking incredibly devious in Draco's opinion. And while it certainly infuriated him, it also served to make him feel very hot indeed. Harry had an annoying way of making Draco very aroused very quickly.
"Aw, come on, baby, you're not still mad about the blond thing, are you?"
"Don't call me baby!" Draco shouted. "I am not your baby!"
Harry closed the distance between them by pressing their bodies together and burying his face in Draco's neck. Draco gasped but didn't attempt to move away. He felt warm hands run down the length of his arms and then come to rest on his hips.
"You were my baby last night, remember?" Harry whispered, and a chill ran up Draco's spine.
"That was before you-ah!-accused me of being a b-bleach-blond!"
Draco bit his lip to hold back a moan when Harry nipped rather harshly at his jaw.
"You know I was just kidding, Draco . . ." he purred. Harry ducked his head lower so he could bite playfully at Draco's collarbone, which was peeking out of his very-low-cut V-neck shirt. Harry had told him months ago that he loved them. Draco had a very hard time restraining himself from running his hands through Harry's (spectacularly-disheveled) hair right now. "Don't you remember how nice last night was? How much you loved it when I spread your pretty little legs and shoved my fingers in-"
"Harry!" Draco practically screeched, cheeks flaming just from hearing those words come out of Harry's mouth outside of the bedroom (or whatever PRIVATE area in which they happened to be shagging). He heard Harry chuckle while he continued nipping along his neck and jaw. Draco felt like he was running out of breath.
"What?" Harry said softly, and now Draco could feel the hands on his hips moving backwards until they rested firmly on his arse. Harry pulled him forward roughly and Draco felt his boyfriend's very hard cock rub against his hip. He groaned. "You don't like having my fingers inside of you?"
"Harry," Draco said breathlessly, and found that he couldn't stop himself from gripping Harry's arms until he felt skin beneath his nails. He'd never been good at resisting Harry when he got into these moods.
"Mm, tell me what you want, baby." Harry was mouthing at Draco's pulse point and rocking his hips very subtly. "You want me to eat you out?" He moved up to nibble on Draco's ear and whispered, "Do you want me to fuck you, Draco? Want me to make you scream?"
"Oh, God, Harry, please," he whined, unaware that he was thrusting back against Harry's hips now. Harry laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips.
"I could eat you up right now," Harry said, and for emphasis he bit sharply at Draco's neck. Draco arched into him and moaned rather loudly for being in a public corridor right outside of the Gryffindor common room. "Unfortunately," Harry whispered into his ear, "I have a previous engagement to attend to, so you'll have to wait-"
"You're not going anywhere, Potter." If there was one thing Draco very much liked about himself (aside from all the other things), it was that he could manage to sound very commanding despite his femininity. He ran his hands gently under Harry's shirt and up his back before dragging his nails down so harshly that he felt the skin break. Harry gasped and a flame lit in his eyes. Draco felt himself harden further and at the same time that a spike of heat shot through his body he felt a little tingle of fear. Harry could be very rough when he wanted to.
But oh how he loved it.
Harry took one look at Draco-who was flushed and sweaty and still digging his nails into Harry's lower back-and practically growled. Draco rose up onto his toes when Harry leaned forward again and breathed hot air onto his ear.
"God, you're gagging for it, Draco," he whispered. Draco didn't have the patience to deny it. He merely whined and dug his nails in harder. He heard Harry suck in a breath a moment before another particularly harsh bite was administered to his neck. "You want this?"
"Yes," Draco breathed.
"How bad do you want it?"
Draco whimpered. "So much, Harry . . ."
Harry kissed Draco's chin and trailed up to his bottom lip where he hesitated.
"You'll have to do something special for me. I had other plans."
Draco swallowed nervously and peered at Harry, whose face was so close that it looked distorted. His green eyes, however, were as vibrant as ever, and they served to make Draco impossibly harder. He bit his lip and nodded, scratching along Harry's back just to let him know he still held some semblance of control. Harry smirked-though there was a comforting, loving grin behind it-and kissed Draco softly.
"I'll be right back," he said, and with another kiss he turned and disappeared into the common room. Draco was left standing before the Fat Lady-who was glaring at him like he'd just committed some horrible crime-with a raging erection and bruised lips.
He glared back.
Just as he was about to ask the Fat Lady just who she thought she was the portrait swung open and Harry stepped out, looking no different than before save for the fact that his cheeks were just a bit more flushed. He turned to close the portrait behind him and when he looked back at Draco he grinned mischievously.
He walked up to Draco and leaned in as if to kiss his neck, but instead he only breathed hotly across his throat, causing Draco to shiver. He grabbed the blond's hand and pulled away.
"Come on," he said softly, a twinkle in his eye. Draco didn't say anything, simply followed his crazy Gryffindor boyfriend down several corridors until they ended up outside the blank stretch of wall which signified the Room of Requirement. Harry walked past three times, eyes closed and face screwed up in concentration, opening them only when he heard the faint sound of a door popping into existence.
He grabbed Draco's hand again and led him inside.
It was a very stereotypical romantic setting: a large four-poster bed with silk sheets and lots of pillows; a roaring fire; a lovely little chaise that matched the bed; and, most importantly, a large selection of scented oils.
"Get on the couch."
Draco whipped around to look at Harry, who was smiling deviously, though he looked like he might lose his mind any second.
"The . . . the cou-"
"The couch," he said more sharply, yet no less seductively, and before Draco could even contemplate disobeying those instructions Harry was backing him up onto it. When he'd crawled on top of Draco and was kissing his neck, causing Draco to involuntarily arch up into him, he reached out and grabbed both of Draco's wrists and shoved them roughly behind his back.
"Ow! Harr-"
"Shh," Harry said soothingly, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along Draco's jaw now. "Just relax." He held both of Draco's wrists with one hand while he unfastened his own Gryffindor tie with the other. When he'd gotten it off he bound Draco's wrists behind his back with it. Draco stared up at him, wide-eyed.
"What are you doing?"
Instead of answering he dug into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of red cloth. But then he grabbed his wand and muttered a spell, and suddenly he was no longer holding a piece of fabric, but a rather short, plaited Gryffindor skirt that looked like it belonged in a porno shoot.
"Harry, what is that?"
Harry held it up for him and smirked.
"Do you like it? It's what you're wearing."
"What I'm wearing?!" He tried to sit up but Harry held him down with one hand. Draco glared. "I am not wearing a Gryffindor skirt."
"But you'd wear a Slytherin one." It wasn't a question. Harry's eyes were alight with both amusement and arousal. Draco held back a groan.
"I . . . I-"
"Will look ravishing." Harry held the skirt between his teeth as his hands roamed over Draco's body, stopping when they hovered above the belt of his denims. Draco couldn't decide whether to watch his trousers being undone or the skimpy skirt hanging out of Harry's mouth. Both were, admittedly, very nice to look at.
When he'd undone the belt and thrown it on the floor he removed the skirt from his mouth. "See, I tied you up because I knew you'd never let me put you in a Gryffindor skirt if you could help it," he said as he slowly, teasing, slid Draco's very tight trousers and pants down his legs and threw them to the other side of the room. His cock was already hard and nearly pressed up against his stomach, a small drop of precome hanging ominously above his black shirt.
The fabric of the skirt felt smooth and delicate against Draco's hairless legs (which he'd just shaved that morning) as Harry slid it into place. It was just the right size, resting perfectly below his hip bones. Harry lifted Draco's shirt to just below his navel and groaned. The tip of Draco's pink cock stuck out, practically begging to be touched.
Harry bent over and licked it, just once, and Draco's head fell back with a long moan.
He watched with wide eyes as Harry peeled his own shirt off, exposing a very toned, very tanned chest that had Draco's mouthwatering. Harry bent over and, without letting their chests touch, whispered in Draco's ear: "Like what you see?"
Draco mewled and tried to buck up to no avail.
"Touch me, Harry," he whined, and succeeded only in eliciting a chuckle from Harry.
"I have something else for you to wear, baby." Harry sat back again on his heels and dug something out of his other pocket. Draco watched with trepidation as he pulled out two long, white socks, the very top of both adorned with two Gryffindor-colored stripes.
He laid one down across Draco's abdomen and gently lifted one of his knees so he could slip a sock over his foot. He left a trail of kisses along Draco's pale leg as he pulled the sock up. It stopped at his knee: several centimeters before the edge of the skirt. He did the same thing with the other sock, only he didn't stop kissing Draco's leg when he'd pulled this one all the way up. He continued until he had to lift the skirt, placing biting kisses along the inside of his thigh.
Draco couldn’t see Harry’s face anymore; it was entirely obscured by his skirt. The only thing visible was the mop of black hair sticking up at all angles, clashing tremendously with the maroon and thin gold stripes of the fabric. Draco’s breath hitched and, since he couldn’t move his hands, his whole body arched when he felt the mouth trailing up his leg reach his balls and a slimy tongue lick at the crease of his thigh and cock. Harry’s hands came up to grab Draco’s waist and licked a broader stripe, eliciting a low moan from the blond above him. Draco bit his bottom lip and watched Harry’s head intently even though he couldn’t see what was going on beneath the skirt.
Harry didn’t do any more licking, however, but pulled back and climbed over Draco until their noses were centimeters apart.
“You sound like a whore when you moan, do you know that?”
Draco sneered at him before defiantly looking away. Harry chuckled and gripped his chin hard, forcing their eyes to meet again.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he said, and bent to nip at Draco’s ear. Draco wished he had the control to keep from stretching out his neck, but he didn’t. “You love it when I call you a whore, don’t you, Draco?” Draco made a little mewling noise and Harry gripped his hips in response, grinding down onto his cock.
“Harry!”
Harry laughed and dug his blunt fingernails in harder. “Yes?”
“Please . . .”
“Please what?”
Draco gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying with all his might not to rock up into the hard cock he could feel against his hip.
“Harry . . .”
“Tell me what you want, baby,” Harry whispered, and he breathed hotly across Draco’s throat. “Or you won’t get anything at all.”
Draco whimpered. “Harry . . . Fuck me. Please, fuck me . . .”
“You want me to fuck you?” Harry repeated, the increase in his breathing both audible and felt on Draco’s neck.
“Yes . . .”
“Yeah?” Harry rose up so he was hovering higher above Draco’s face and began unbuckling his belt and denims. He kept eye contact with Draco the whole time. “You want my fingers in you?” Draco nodded fervently. “Tell me.”
“I want your fingers in me, Harry,” he said quickly, having given up the façade. “I want you so deep in me I can’t breathe.”
He saw Harry’s eyes go slightly wide and suddenly, before he’d even taken his dick out of his pants, he was sucking on two of his fingers and then his hand had disappeared beneath the skirt. Draco moaned softly when he felt one finger slip between his arse cheeks and circle his entrance. This part was so gentle that Draco wasn’t expecting it to be shoved roughly inside, all the way to the first knuckle, and he gasped and threw his head back in a combination of pain and roaring pleasure.
“How’s that?” Harry breathed against his ear. Draco had to physically force himself to comprehend these words and come up with a response. Even as the question had been asked the finger had been sliding deeper inside his body.
“So . . . good.” He wanted so badly to reach up and grab Harry’s face; to pull him down into an earthshattering kiss. But he couldn’t, and he knew if he asked Harry would deny it. He loved being in charge, loved dominating and controlling Draco. And even though he would sometimes deny it, Draco loved it too. So much, in fact, that it didn’t take long for him to start begging for more.
Harry was apparently losing control as well, because he shoved a second finger in shortly thereafter and then a third, and it took almost no time at all for him to start pounding them into Draco mercilessly.
“I can’t wait to have my cock inside you, baby,” Harry said against Draco’s ear. Draco clenched himself around the fingers fucking his arse and arched when he heard Harry groan.
“Why don’t you get on with it, then?”
Draco squealed and his eyes shot open when the fingers were abruptly removed and a sharp slap was administered to his bare bottom. Harry was grinning playfully.
“I’d keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if I were you,” he said, all the while palming his cock through his pants, his denims hanging open around them. “Unless, of course, you’re begging. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Draco?” Draco didn’t answer; he didn’t think Harry had meant for him to. He watched as the Wizarding world’s hero pulled his thick, leaking cock from the confines of his boxer shorts and stroked the length twice. Draco groaned and Harry looked up.
“See something you like?”
“Harry . . .” he whispered, entirely aware of how pathetic he sounded and unable to find it within himself to care. A loving look crossed Harry’s face and he bent down to kiss Draco soundly. When he sat back up he used the hand not on his cock to lift Draco’s skirt, freeing Draco’s own dick from the waistline. He positioned the blunt head at Draco’s entrance and prodded gently. Draco’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to thrust, but to no avail.
“Such a needy little whore,” he purred, and before Draco could respond with a sneer or snarky comment he thrust inside, all the way to the hilt, groaning when his balls slapped lightly against Draco’s arse. Draco wrapped his sock-clad feet around Harry’s waist and pulled him in as deeply as he could get him. “God, Draco, you’re so tight every fucking time.”
And then he pulled out slowly, watching with rapt attention as Draco hissed and arched and writhed, and slammed back in without remorse. He leaned down and kissed Draco softly, just a brush of the lips.
“Do you like being fucked, baby?” he whispered against his lips. Draco didn’t seem to be able to say a thing back, let alone respond to the kiss. Harry continued to kiss him, though. He bit and licked and nibbled and Draco let it happen, reveling in the cock sliding so deeply into his body and then back out; loving the way Harry smelled and felt and sounded and the way he seemed to envelope Draco in his essence. Draco felt perfect beneath Harry; like he belonged there. And despite the things Harry said to him, and the things Harry called him, nothing would ever make him feel any different. Because Harry loved him and he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Harry’s hands slipped suddenly behind his back and he fumbled a bit before releasing the tie, allowing Draco to bring his arms around and hold Harry against him. Harry sucked on his neck and his thrusting increased in both speed and intensity, while his groaning turned into moans and gasps of unbearable pleasure.
“Make me come, Harry,” Draco finally managed, squeezing his legs more tightly around the boy above him. Harry thrust particularly deeply, hitting his prostate squarely, and stilled. Draco nearly shrieked.
“You wanna come?”
“Harry!”
Harry didn’t relent. He stayed put, rubbing against Draco’s prostate, nails digging half-moon bruises into his pale sides.
“Tell me how badly.”
“Ha-Harry-”
“I’m not moving till you tell me, Draco,” he whispered, though Draco could hear a slight tremor in his voice. This must have been excruciating for him as well, but apparently he was able to deal with it in order to torture Draco.
“Harry, I can’t-”
“Tell me, Draco,” he growled, and his fingers gripped harder, and Draco dragged his nails down Harry’s back. Harry hissed but didn’t moved.
“Please, Harry, let me come! I need to come!”
“How bad?”
Draco could have screamed. He clenched around Harry’s cock and started saying anything that happened to run through his mind.
“I’ll die, Harry, please, please, I need it so badly-!”
But that seemed to do the trick because he pulled out and slammed back in, hitting Draco’s prostate again, and Draco was coming harder than he ever had in his life. He was arching up into Harry, his nails probably drawing blood, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back, and he was shouting Harry’s name so loud the room itself appeared to shudder.
He vaguely felt it when Harry moaned and released himself, stalling for longer inside Draco’s body on each thrust, and eventually stopped altogether, barely holding himself up with his arms on either side of Draco’s head, his hot breath floating across Draco’s face.
They both managed to open their eyes after a few moments and Harry chuckled.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful, Draco.”
Draco flushed and looked away. Harry bent to kiss his cheek and then flopped down on top of him. Draco’s eyes went wide and a breath gushed out .
“Harry,” he rasped. “Can we move to the bed?”
“Mm? Oh, yeah, all right.”
He heaved himself off the chaise and kicked off his denims and pants, taking a moment to spell himself and Draco clean, and then, after a moment of thought, stripped Draco as well. He carried him to bed and tucked him in before crawling in behind and wrapping his arms around the blond, immediately burying his face in his neck.
“Why are there oils if you weren’t planning on using them?” Draco asked after having eyed the bottles for a minute. “And a bed?”
“I thought it would be fun to fuck you raw in a romantic room. But I guess the bed turned out being worthwhile, eh?”
Draco snuggled back more into Harry and Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms more tightly around the smaller boy.
“Do you really think I bleach my hair?”
Harry laughed loudly this time and nuzzled Draco’s hair.
“Nah.” He kissed Draco’s neck and ran his hands over the nest of hair surrounding Draco’s cock. “You’re much too classy for that.”