Cross-posted from my journal!
Nov. 7th, 2003 02:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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bottom_dracoTitle: Do As The Weasel Asks You To.
Rating: NC-17 of course.
Pairing: Ron/Draco. Total PWP. A dab of comedy ( maybe? Possibly? ) Draco gets a letter from his father...
Author: Danya.
A/N: Holy shite, this is dedicated specifically to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
simmysim, who came up with this idea, read bits of this thing, and basically collaborated with me on putting this baby together. And she's making me post this now, before it's been read through by someone else, so bare with us.
Also, thanks to Az for reminding me all that Draco's want a little world peace now and then.
Dedication: TO SIMMY!!! FROM DANYA!!!
~~~*~~~
Do as the Weasel asks you to.
Needless to say, breakfast that morning was all but entertaining. Crabbe seemed especially perplexed as the ratty little pigeon swooped up and away after dropping the contents of its delivery into my porridge.
“Do you know that bird?”
“No.”
“Then why did it give you that paper thing.”
“It is called a roll of parchment. Now be a good boy and eat your breakfast.”
After patting him on the head, and doing the same to a confused looking Goyle, I promptly began to break the grimy black Azkaban seal, clumps of oatmeal chunks dripping from the edges. Some obnoxious first year a few seats down on my bench laughed, and nearly shook the whole of the table as I smoothed the crusty parchment out across the tabletop.
“ ‘Doooooo… a…as….teh…thuhh….”
“Quiet you idiot! Don’t attempt to read it out loud!”
“OW!’” Crabbe whined as I swatted his lumpy finger away from my letter. There was the single sentence scrawled right in a most untidy manner across the middle of the sheet of dirty parchment. There was no signature, but I could tell by my father’s attempt to disguise his handwriting that this simply could not be ignored.
I frowned and quickly crumpled the letter up, shoving it into my inner right robe pocket before glancing up and over to the Gryffindor table.
Stupid Gryffindors… all peppy and laughing and sipping their stupid morning tea. Potter’s back was facing towards me thankfully, for if he weren’t, he surely would have caught me staring and assumed that I had some unnatural fixation with him – which surely I did not. Everything always has to be about everybody’s favorite little angsty savior, but apparently this time was an exception.
I glanced to the numerous knots of bushy hair seated across from him as the witch grinned, all thirty-two of her magically straightened teeth positively sparkling with Mudblood pride. Disgusting. Still, she wasn’t my newly acquired problem, so moving along to…
Weasel. The Weasel. Die Weasel, die.
“Draco? Draco? Whatcha doing, Draco?”
I must’ve looked as if I were deep in thought – an expression most foreign to my familiars – so I allowed myself to relax and sip at my own mug with ease.
“Nothing. Are you two done yet?”
~*~
More than once I had to berate myself for openly studying the redheaded fiend in the midst of class. Even Severus had caught me glaring at him through the smoke of my bubbling cauldron, and gave me one of his meaningful looks as if to ask if I were feeling all right. I merely rolled my eyes and continued with my work, wondering why my father wished for me to consort with the Weasel, and on further insult to my dignity, to do whatever he would tell me to do.
Had my father somehow swayed a Weasley to repent and abandon its blood-traitor ways? Perhaps he had cast some sort of dark spell on Potter’s best friend in order to be able to communicate to me threw him? Those spells did seem to work best on the unintelligent and weak-minded. Perhaps my father would, through him, give me advice on how to sit low and prepare for my Death Eater initiation?
The rest of the day’s classes were especially boring, and only served to distract me from my thoughts. I had decided that my father had somehow managed to turn the Weasel, and gave him a special message to deliver to me.
After all, my father was one for poetic justice, and how deliciously ironic would it be to steal a cherished son from one of my father’s enemies? I was eager to get to the Weasel after class in order to hear my instructions.
I fell into step behind the Golden Trio, pinching my nostrils closed shut at the horrid smell of cheap shampoo wafting from my Mudblood’s wiry hair. They stood in a horizontal line as they walked; the taller Weasley and Potter on the sides of the Mudblood in a most gentlemanly fashion, sandwiching the girl in between them.
“Harry, are you up for a bit of flying tonight? Maybe toss the Quaffle around for a bit of practice?”
“Not tonight, Ron,” Potter replied in a tired sort of ‘woe is me’ voice. I took this as the right time to shove my way in between the Mudblood and the Weasel, nudging the girl aside with an elbow to glare head on into the face of my instructor.
“Oh fuck me, what is it Malfoy?” the Weasel snapped and I was forced to blink. Such potential rage! Still, that couldn’t have been an instruction, could it?
“Come again?” I near squeaked, feeling at once, violated by his eyes. They were surely undressing me as I spoke!
He shifted, looking impatient as he crossed his rather built arms across his chest.
“You heard me. What is it? What the hell do you want now?”
It was then that I understood. It would be highly suspicious if he didn’t react the way he normally would, so I smiled thinly, fingering the wand inside my pocket as I normally would if I felt a fight coming on.
“I want world peace, Weasley,” I replied coolly. “Oh and, maybe your daft cow of a mother could help end world hunger and suffering too. She’d easily feed a few million starving wizards.”
“THAT’S IT!” he roared, brandishing his wand much faster than I would’ve expected. To the right of me I heard someone sigh, ‘oh Ron, don’t-’ in an almost orgasmic manner – had to have been the Mudblood – and almost out of nowhere I felt hands enclose around my neck from behind.
“Do it, Ron! I’ve got him,” someone hissed at my ear, and at once I knew it was Potter. “Not such a smartarse now, are you, Malfoy? I’m sick of your shite.”
“Ron! Harry! Stop it,” the Mudblood sighed again, but she was out of my line of vision. I could almost imagine her with her hands clasped together saint-style.
If Potter wanted me to struggle, I gave him a nice little disappointment, for I knew something he didn’t. I knew the truth about his best friend, and although the Weasel had moved to press the tip of his wand up against my temple now, I wasn’t afraid of him. Still, the pressure at my throat was a little uncomfortable, so I shifted uneasily to make a more exciting show for the onlookers.
Weasley seemed to be turning a raging shade of purple – not attractive in the least. I lifted my head a bit, arching an eyebrow as if to egg him on.
“You… you son of a bitch, Malfoy! You and me! Midnight tonight out by the Gardens! You are fucked! Do you hear me!”
Loud and clear.
Potter let go of me and I straightened the collar of my robes, wrinkling my nose as I smoothed my hair back to perfection and pocketed my wand. I wasn’t looking at Potter, and I wasn’t looking at the Mudblood. No, I was glaring fiercely at Weasley, mouth contorted to hide that I had started to bite my lip rather hard.
“Fine. I’ll be there,” I hissed, and glanced around to glare at anyone who had stopped to watch the show. A few students looked disappointed, and went on with their merry way after a couple more seconds of lingering. I finally looked to Potter and found that he looked murderous – as if he had finally cracked.
I smiled and left, beginning to contemplate why on earth my father would do this to me.
~*~
The end of the day came and went while I remain locked up within my Prefect’s quarters. I spent hours working on various assignments, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and contemplating how exactly this would happen. Supper hadn’t appealed to my taste buds, so I had skipped it to remain standing in front of the enchanted mirror by my bed for hours, trying to decide what to wear and how to carry myself.
“Honestly… me. Sleep with a Weasley? Not only is he a boy, but Merlin! It’s a Weasley!” I snapped, pulling a gray sweater off to toss onto the bed.
“Well, dearie, what is most important is that we do as our father says,” my reflection replied, and I frowned, shaking my head. My reflection always spoke the truth to me, and for this I loved it dearly. The mirror had been within my family for many decades, and was passed down generation after generation from one Malfoy heir, to the next.
“I know, I know. It just doesn’t make sense at all. I hate when he’s so cryptic about things.”
“Well you understand that our father has to be as ambiguous as he possibly can. You know his letters to us could be intercepted at any time.”
“I know, I know!” I sighed again, holding a green button up shirt to my shoulders. “How does this look?”
“Exquisite, as usual, but we wouldn’t want to ruin it, love. The gardens are hardly a clean copulation spot.”
“No one can know about this. I wouldn’t be doing this if I honestly thought our father wouldn’t find out.”
“Oh honey, it will all be okay.”
“Perhaps our father is testing us? Testing to see how far we will go to obey his instructions.”
“He could very well be.”
“After this, he will know that we will always be loyal and true to him. We will never betray our father or our family name.”
“Aren’t you a darling young man.”
“Why thank you, so are you. So then, shall I simply go with this robe?” I stated as I held up a silk, emerald-colored robe, feeling a bit better about the situation than I had been all day.
“That is a wonderful idea.”
“All right,” I replied, unbuckling my trousers to slip them down to the floor. “Tell me, how does this ‘sleeping with a boy’ business work? It seems quite disgusting to me as I can only think of one place where a boy would put his… into another boy,” I stated, making a face. “It doesn’t seem as if it would even work.”
“Well, at least we know where it would go then, because it truly does go there.”
“Fuck no! This is insane!”
“They are our father’s orders, so we will do as he says.”
I slipped the robe up and over the backs of my shoulders, wrapping it snuggly around my body. The concept of being naked in front of Weasley was downright sickening, and it did not seem at all enjoyable. The thought of what I would be doing in about an hour’s time only made me tie the butter-smooth belt harder around my waist.
“Smooth our hair behind our ears, love. And wear it loose.”
“Fine! Fine,” I growled, doing as I was told.
~*~
Before I knew it, the time had come. I slipped on my diamond-studded showering shoes, tucked my wand in my robe pocket, and left my room precisely at a quarter to midnight to sacrifice myself for the sake of my father’s trust. The walk down the corridors was agonizingly short, and I soon found myself stepping out into the cool, night air. A breeze ruffled the hem of my robe and circled around my bare calves, causing me to shiver and curse vehemently as I stalked out across the grounds towards the Gardens.
A figure stood near one of the Romanesque benches along the path entering the Gardens. I knew he would be alone, although I knew Potter and the Mudblood would have tried to come with him. As I stepped closer I told myself to relax and to breathe. Just breathe… but for some reason Weasley’s form seemed to loom tall and broad within the dim light of the magical flowers and plants. It wasn’t long before I stalked to a halt and crossed my silk-clad arms across my chest to match the other boy’s pose.
“Weasley,” I acknowledged, and as he stepped closer, I saw his eyes register my arrival.
“….Malfoy?!”
“Yes?”
“….What are you wearing!” he gasped, his dark eyes having widened to obscene proportions. I blinked a few times, swallowed thickly and wrinkled my nose. Repented or no, he was still a horrid Weasley.
“It is called a bathrobe.”
“A bathrobe.”
“Yes,” I gritted out between near gnashing teeth, growing frustrated. Still, I wasn’t going to complain. I was to do as the Weasel wanted me to do, and I somehow doubted that my complaining was what he wanted of me, foul wretch.
“…Erm…”
“Speechless? Fine. Must I always do everything?” I relayed, attempting to sound as pleasant as I could, although I was sure that there was an edge to my voice. I began to untie my belt, opening the robe slightly as I let the whole of it slip smoothly from the curves of my shoulders and down along my arms. Apparently this new display of skin gathered Weasley’s attention once more, as he had seemed to be frozen in shock.
“Malfoy!”
“Yes?” I replied, again, finding myself standing there completely naked. I inhaled a chilly breath, a forced myself not to shiver, expression complacent.
“…You’re…you’re…”
“I’m what?” I snapped, trying to move this along as fast as I could. Slipping out of my shower shoes, my feet sank down into the grass, and I shivered, finding it cold.
“… You’re…”
“Really Weasley. I don’t know whether I should be flattered or offended,” I hissed, lifting my chin as I began to move towards him. Body heat seemed to be a very inviting concept at the moment, so I reached my hands out to rub them against the front of his chest. His shirt was warm, and that was a plus, so I pressed myself a little closer, only to nearly topple over as he stepped backwards.
“Where’s your wand!” he demanded, seeming terribly flustered, and I tilted my head, registering the steady blush rising to his cheeks.
“Where’s yours?” I asked, suddenly genuinely wary of my vulnerability. I hated it, actually. I felt naked without my wand, not without my clothes.
“Right here,” he suddenly growled quietly, thrusting the offending piece of wood at my sternum. The tip nearly bruised the skin as he jabbed at me, looking both confused and contemplative. Still, I noticed that he couldn’t look at my face, and instead decided to focus his attention on my navel. His voice was a low whisper, but it didn’t sound as if he could help the matter.
Perhaps he thought I was being too forward.
Maybe I was supposed to play subservient.
“Weasley, put the fucking wand down.”
“No! You put your clothes on!”
“Why? That’s not going to get us very far. Here,” I sighed, nudging his wand down and away from a threatening position. He simply stood there, seeming to be trying his hardest to figure out what was going on, and I thought it was amusing. Perhaps he was attempting to play a bit beforehand – either way, as amusing as it was, it wasn’t helping things along.
“Ron,” I sighed quietly, forcing myself to look him in the eye. It was very…strange to say that… seemed really unnatural and I promised myself to never do that again, but it worked. It startled him and probably disconcerted him more than anything, but it made him stand still. He was only an inch or so taller than me, yet his shoulders were more broad and his torso seemed to be more muscled. I on the other hand was built more for seeking than anything. “You wanted to do this, so we will do it.”
“I… Malfoy…” he frowned, shaking his head sharply as I began to lift up his shirt. Still, I managed to get it over his head and down onto the ground, smirking to myself as I noticed him looking around for any voyeurs. I took his distraction as an opportunity to assess his frame.
His body was very good-looking when it came down to it – this conclusion having been made by what I thought a girl’s standards would be. His skin was warm to the touch, and everywhere that my fingers wandered, his flesh seemed to react by goose-bumping moments later. Underneath I found hard muscle – very different than a girl’s body, but not entirely disgusting, and as I tilted my head and massaged my thumbs along his firm sides, he started with a choked groan and stepped back again.
“Malfoy, I’m warning you…”
“Shut up all ready. You chose this spot, not me.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Shut. Up,” I snapped, feeling my almost-resigned mood had just been ruined. I forced myself to move forward by lowering my fingers to his belt, nimbly undoing it and moving in to snap the button at the top of his trousers loose. He jumped again, and I pursed my lips together, determined as I tugged his slacks down over the material of his boxers, hooked my fingers in the elastic of those too, and pulled them both down around his ankles. Weasley gasped at the sudden feel of cool air across previously protected skin, and I forced him to step out of the puddled material, starting to pull off his shoes as well. He leaned over my crouched body and I felt his rough hands fall to my shoulders so he wouldn’t topple over as I stripped him of his socks as well.
I rose, face to face with him once more, and felt the sudden, unsettling urge to slide my hands up along his back. Wondering what it would feel like, I pressed my palms flat against his lower back and felt my vision blur slightly as my blood warmed throughout my body.
Weasley’s chest rose and fell steadily, although I could feel that he was taking deeper breaths, and it made me smirk. The feel of his hands along my sides utterly surprised me though, and my eyes widened as he pulled me in closer against him and pressed his hips against mine.
“Shite.”
“What?” he murmured, and still with that stupid sort of Weasleyesque strain to his voice. Nevermind that I felt something thick and fleshy nudging at the juncture of my thigh. Nevermind that I felt something stir at my lower belly, and nevermind that it wasn’t disgust.
“…Do something you idiot,” I stated quietly as I scraped my fingertips over his spine. The next few seconds were filled with shock and something surprisingly akin to pleasure as I felt myself turned around, hands near palming the fronts of my thighs and his fucking cock pressing against me from behind.
“Better?” I heard him say, and I swear I wanted to smack the fucking freckles off his Weasley face because I knew the prat was grinning like an idiot. I was damned relieved that he couldn’t see my face, because all I could think was that he was hard and probably longer than I was. Bruise to the ego.
“Get on with it,” I murmured, attempting to sound as if I had done this before – although in any other situation I probably never would’ve ever wanted to lie about having shagged a boy before – and shifted so that every bit of his skin rubbed against mine, and had I known the little movement would run shivers across my own body, I surely would not have believed it.
I was trying to contemplate how I was enjoying this, and why on earth thoughts like ‘fuck me’ were running through my head since I wasn’t sure how painful this sort of ‘fucking’ was going to be…anything painful couldn’t be enjoyable, correct?
This was Weasley, and a boy, and boys have cocks like I do.
Weasley seemed to finally remember that I was Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy liked to talk a lot of shite that pissed him off, so he wasn’t very gentle when he nudged me down onto my knees directly in front of the Romanesque bench. I blinked and reached out for it, hands curling at the edge opposite to the one my stomach pressed against as I felt hands in places I’ve never felt before. I swallowed thickly, throat seeming to have gone suddenly dry as I spread my thighs apart since he seemed to be heading there anyway, and I jumped slightly as I felt his hands curl and massage at my inner thighs from behind.
I felt distinctly scandalized with the position I was in, and heard a rustling behind me with sounded like a summoning spell, but I wasn’t sure. Weasley suddenly splayed his hand against my back and pushed my stomach down onto the chilled marble-like surface of the bench, to which I hissed a protest, gripping the edge a bit harder than before. There were more indistinct noises that I wasn’t paying much attention to as I rested my chin on the bench and tried not to think about what would happen if Severus caught me like this.
“… Erm… Malfoy this is going to…” I heard just as I felt something wet between my arse cheeks, the tip of what I hoped was a slick finger poking where I’ve never felt anything prod so insistently before.
“I don’t care…” I replied simply, feeling my cheeks burn as I felt that finger pushing inside of me. It felt strange and foreign, and I tried not to think about what was actually happening, or how it felt. There wasn’t pain, but instead a simple buzzing pressure that made my hips squirm and my legs open even more as I arched my back to make it easier. The movements of his finger caused me to close my eyes tightly, rewetting my lips every two seconds as I tried not to tense - everything seemed to happen easier if I relaxed more.
I blinked my eyes open as my lower belly seemed to be filling with something hot and all that was left of the sensation was something that felt good. I didn’t even realize that my jaw had fallen slack, yet right as I had gotten used to this feeling of being invaded, I felt myself widening with the addition of more slick fingers.
Something triggered, and it felt like I needed something more. I was growing impatient as time seemed to be moving excruciatingly slowly, but just as I opened my mouth to say something snide, I felt suddenly empty.
“Weasley… what-” I murmured but promptly forgot how to speak as something bulbous replaced his fingers, and I swear it seemed to want to skew me alive.
“Stay still,” was all I heard as I felt the slick, mushroom head of his cock forcing its way further inside of me. Something popped and I snapped around him like a glove, worming my knees apart even more and arching my back to the point where it strained to curve anymore. This throbbing, intense stretching feeling invaded my senses, nearly making me delirious, and I gritted my teeth together, eyes closing shut with a guttural grunt.
“Fuck!”
Everything seemed to blur together, but I felt myself being pushed forward and pulled back every other second, the shape of his cock rubbing at me from somewhere deep within my body. My eyes fell half shut, lips parted as I tilted my head down to stare at my stomach, wondering if his thrusts would ever reach as far inside me as my navel. There was a hand at my hip and an arm wrapped around the front of my body, and I felt steaming hot breath across my shoulder blade, Weasley’s toned chest rubbing up and down along my back with each thrust. My body felt like it had puddled into nothing but boiling pleasure, my muscles having liquefied as my own cock throbbed and ached for release.
I must’ve been panting loudly - I wasn’t sure, as there were groans and grunts mixed in with the slick, smothered sounds of skin meeting skin throughout the air around us. My lower stomach burned and tightened, my cock bouncing slightly, untouched as I watched my own precome bead around the head.
Nothing made much sense at all to me, except I started to remember that I was being fucked senseless by a Weasley, and that I should feel some sort of loss of pride by this.
He mumbled something against my neck behind me, and I felt him nuzzling at my hairline as I furrowed my brow and tried to still myself from pushing back so eagerly onto his cock. The sweat remained heated across my body, and I wasn’t sure if the dampness between us was from my back or his stomach.
I opened my mouth to say something just as another one of his thrusts near lifted my knees up from the grass, and my head fell forward, strands of my own hair blocking my vision.
“Weasley…switch… it up already,” I managed, the movement forward from a thrust making my voice rise strangely towards the end of my demand.
“God...” he returned, and I shook my head, damp strands of hair clinging to my temples as I tried to gather up my strength. He sent me forward over the bench, positively squealing with a thrust that hit somewhere utterly pleasurable that I didn’t even know existed. My hips bucked uncontrollably, as I tried to get him to scrape that same spot again.
“Fucking hell!” I moaned, frustrated as I pushed back as hard as I could from the bench, causing us to both topple over. I felt him push up into me at a strange angle before leaving my body as I rolled over onto all fours and gathered my breath, feeling empty and stretched beyond belief. Thighs still shaky, I crawled atop the redhead, quite feverish with a need for something that I couldn’t quite register.
Weasley made a noise as he scrambled to sit up and grasp my hips, parting me once more to slide the full length of his veined cock back inside of me. My hands immediately went to his hair as I curled my back a bit to adjust, knees bent as I straddled him this time. The noises I was making were far from civilized, yet I couldn’t think of anything better to do than start bouncing.
There’s no feeling like it; like having something thick and throbbing and hot deeply imbedded inside of you. Sex with women was something I was used to, yet somewhere in the back of my mind I had already decided that this was something I wouldn’t be able to go without again.
“Gods…ngh…”
“Fuck…near there…almost…”
Weasley lay back against the grass and simply continued to grasp my hips, guiding me up and down along his ridiculously rigid cock, and I was past thinking that I should be worried about liking the in and out thrusting so much. I felt my stomach tighten so hard it began to spasm, yet my own cock stood out at attention, having gone untouched this entire time.
I bit my lip, rocking back and forth over Weasley’s hips and splayed my hand across my body, letting it glide smoothly south over the sweat gathering just where my line of hair began. My head fell back, eyes closed blearily and as I went to wrap slick fingers around my own cock, I felt a rough, massive hand swat my own away and squeeze my length instead.
My head rolled forward, eyes opening to their own accord and locked on Weasley’s dilated ones.
“Shite… oh hell,” I moaned, unaware of the needy sounds escaping my lips. He stroked my languidly as my body rolled and rocked atop him, and I felt everything draining towards my cock as I squeezed my arse around him. “Augnh…nnnghfuck…” My hands slid along Weasley’s stomach, balancing myself as my head fell forward, more unintelligible sounds dripping down my chin.
As ready for it as I was, I still wasn’t ready for the feel of it. His cock twitched, still deeply imbedded inside of me, and I felt hot spurts of his come coating my insides. I felt myself spasm and as those fingers squeezed hard around my flesh, a rush of pleasure nearly blinded me as I spilled myself onto his stomach.
Panting and aching with his softening cock still in my body, my shoulders slumped and I nearly fell forward. Weasley continued to lazily stroke me, thumb rubbing at the oversensitive head, and each time he did such, my body lightly convulsed. My hair, as long and messy as it was when it wasn’t gelled back, was strewn across my eyelashes as I blinked myself back into some sort of sense.
Father should be very proud of me.
My body felt like syrup, and I tossed my head back, lifting my hands to my chin to crack my neck.
“…Malfoy…”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, rolling my shoulders in their sockets as I pushed down on his stomach to lift myself up. He cooed, whined, but lay there as I slipped from his cock with a soft, wet ‘pop’.
My legs refused to support the dead weight of the rest of my body, and I near toppled over once more. To my surprise, I felt a rather painful ache begin to throb throughout my hipbones and lower back. My body was damp with all sorts of sweat, and I had the decency to realize I needed a scalding hot shower after having sex with the Weasel out in the open for anyone to see if so they pleased to.
This promptly brought me back to sanity.
Weasley sat up, and made sure he stayed up in that upright position by leaning back on his hands. He turned to look at me, but I refused to return his gaze as I looked around for my robe.
“…Hey, Malfoy…”
“I said shut up,” I replied tiredly. I was beginning to find the sound of his voice to be rather aggravating again,
but was more annoyed with the fact that my muscles had apparently atrophied in the past two minutes.
“No. Malfoy… what the hell?” he managed, his voice rusty and still somewhat lust-ridden as I hastily pulled on my robe and tied it sloppily at the waist. Then I gathered up my shower shoes and pulled those on as well, doing this all on the grass as my legs still refused to let me stand properly.
“What do you mean what the hell?” I spat, attempting once more to stand, and I was happy to find that I could do so, only I stood a bit bow-legged.
“I mean… what. Did you just come here planning to have sex with me?”
I gave him the best glare I could muster up at that moment.
“Never speak again. Ever. Just don’t ever open your bloody mouth. Now get up, put your fucking clothes on, and carry me.”
Apparently resigned to the fact that the night couldn’t get any more disturbing, he merely shrugged and stood to gather up his clothes. I remained standing, although the bench looked very inviting to sprawl out across, and when he finally pulled on his shirt, I arched an eyebrow.
“I’m serious. Just don’t carry me like a baby or a bloody newly-wed, and we’ll be fine. Maybe.”
“…I can’t carry you into the Slytherin dorms. What, you just expect me to waltz into your Commons?”
“You can drop me off at the fucking entrance, now get over here and pick me up you lumbering prat.”
Weasley ambled over to me and I have to say that his range of facial expressions kept surprising me with how many different ways he could express confusion. He studied me hard for a few moments before crouching down slightly to gather me up and toss me over his shoulder.
~*~
The walk back to my dorm wasn’t as challenging as I thought it was be. Once we entered the stone stairwell leading to the dungeons part of the castle, I let him set me down for the rest of the staircase until reaching the bottom floor. I held my hands up, and any other time I would have been belligerent, too full of pride to take any sort of help from anyone, yet after lowering myself to the point of shagging a Weasley, I had nothing left to lose.
He set me down once more at the entrance to the Slytherin dorms.
“Go away, you’re not hearing the password.”
“Excuse me? I just carried you all the way here. I believe I deserve an explanation you slimy, Slytherin git.”
“Explanation? You have all the explanation you need, although if you have any other instructions of importance to give to me do so now or go back to your dorm.”
“…What?”
“You heard me. Did my father tell you anything else? If you speak to him, tell him that I understood the test and I have passed with flying colors, or if you don’t, I will hex you.”
“What?! Lucius Malfoy!?”
“Yes, that is his name.”
“… You don’t make any sense, do you know that? Just bugger off!” he spat, and turned to storm off, giving the impression that I had somehow angered him.
Strange.
I shrugged, murmured the password quietly and slipped easily into my home away from home. I wandered over to the private hall that led to the Prefect’s quarters, ready to shed my now tainted robe and to take a lot, hot bath.
Upon unlocking the door with my own private password, I padded inside and kicked off my shoes, perfectly ready to collapse right there on the floor. I threw off my bathrobe, deciding that I would simply perform a scouring charm over my canopy the next morning, and shower for at least an hour as I couldn’t fathom taking more than the five steps to my bed.
Throwing back the curtains, I rubbed at my eyes and smoothed back my sweaty hair only to find this… this rodent curled up in the center of my bed!
It uncurled itself in a most twitchy manner, and reared up to a rather tall height on it’s hind legs, its forelegs punching the air. It looked almost…irate.
“Frarf!” it squeaked.
I jumped, my eyes squinting suspiciously. What the… what was that?
“Frarf! Where frarf were frarf you!” it squealed, it’s very high-pitched voice already starting to give me a headache.
More than anything, I was surprised that the vile looking beast could speak some broken form of English. If I had possessed any sense at all, I surely would not have started to answer back to it.
“What the shite are you and why the fuck are you in my bed!” I squeaked in return, covering my bare chest with my hands.
“Frarf! I frarf am frarf The Weasel frarf sent frarf by your fraraarrf father! You must frarf obey!”
In the next second, before I could hope to avoid the dawning comprehension…
Thump.
Rating: NC-17 of course.
Pairing: Ron/Draco. Total PWP. A dab of comedy ( maybe? Possibly? ) Draco gets a letter from his father...
Author: Danya.
A/N: Holy shite, this is dedicated specifically to
simmysim, who came up with this idea, read bits of this thing, and basically collaborated with me on putting this baby together. And she's making me post this now, before it's been read through by someone else, so bare with us.Also, thanks to Az for reminding me all that Draco's want a little world peace now and then.
Dedication: TO SIMMY!!! FROM DANYA!!!
Do as the Weasel asks you to.
Needless to say, breakfast that morning was all but entertaining. Crabbe seemed especially perplexed as the ratty little pigeon swooped up and away after dropping the contents of its delivery into my porridge.
“Do you know that bird?”
“No.”
“Then why did it give you that paper thing.”
“It is called a roll of parchment. Now be a good boy and eat your breakfast.”
After patting him on the head, and doing the same to a confused looking Goyle, I promptly began to break the grimy black Azkaban seal, clumps of oatmeal chunks dripping from the edges. Some obnoxious first year a few seats down on my bench laughed, and nearly shook the whole of the table as I smoothed the crusty parchment out across the tabletop.
“ ‘Doooooo… a…as….teh…thuhh….”
“Quiet you idiot! Don’t attempt to read it out loud!”
“OW!’” Crabbe whined as I swatted his lumpy finger away from my letter. There was the single sentence scrawled right in a most untidy manner across the middle of the sheet of dirty parchment. There was no signature, but I could tell by my father’s attempt to disguise his handwriting that this simply could not be ignored.
I frowned and quickly crumpled the letter up, shoving it into my inner right robe pocket before glancing up and over to the Gryffindor table.
Stupid Gryffindors… all peppy and laughing and sipping their stupid morning tea. Potter’s back was facing towards me thankfully, for if he weren’t, he surely would have caught me staring and assumed that I had some unnatural fixation with him – which surely I did not. Everything always has to be about everybody’s favorite little angsty savior, but apparently this time was an exception.
I glanced to the numerous knots of bushy hair seated across from him as the witch grinned, all thirty-two of her magically straightened teeth positively sparkling with Mudblood pride. Disgusting. Still, she wasn’t my newly acquired problem, so moving along to…
Weasel. The Weasel. Die Weasel, die.
“Draco? Draco? Whatcha doing, Draco?”
I must’ve looked as if I were deep in thought – an expression most foreign to my familiars – so I allowed myself to relax and sip at my own mug with ease.
“Nothing. Are you two done yet?”
More than once I had to berate myself for openly studying the redheaded fiend in the midst of class. Even Severus had caught me glaring at him through the smoke of my bubbling cauldron, and gave me one of his meaningful looks as if to ask if I were feeling all right. I merely rolled my eyes and continued with my work, wondering why my father wished for me to consort with the Weasel, and on further insult to my dignity, to do whatever he would tell me to do.
Had my father somehow swayed a Weasley to repent and abandon its blood-traitor ways? Perhaps he had cast some sort of dark spell on Potter’s best friend in order to be able to communicate to me threw him? Those spells did seem to work best on the unintelligent and weak-minded. Perhaps my father would, through him, give me advice on how to sit low and prepare for my Death Eater initiation?
The rest of the day’s classes were especially boring, and only served to distract me from my thoughts. I had decided that my father had somehow managed to turn the Weasel, and gave him a special message to deliver to me.
After all, my father was one for poetic justice, and how deliciously ironic would it be to steal a cherished son from one of my father’s enemies? I was eager to get to the Weasel after class in order to hear my instructions.
I fell into step behind the Golden Trio, pinching my nostrils closed shut at the horrid smell of cheap shampoo wafting from my Mudblood’s wiry hair. They stood in a horizontal line as they walked; the taller Weasley and Potter on the sides of the Mudblood in a most gentlemanly fashion, sandwiching the girl in between them.
“Harry, are you up for a bit of flying tonight? Maybe toss the Quaffle around for a bit of practice?”
“Not tonight, Ron,” Potter replied in a tired sort of ‘woe is me’ voice. I took this as the right time to shove my way in between the Mudblood and the Weasel, nudging the girl aside with an elbow to glare head on into the face of my instructor.
“Oh fuck me, what is it Malfoy?” the Weasel snapped and I was forced to blink. Such potential rage! Still, that couldn’t have been an instruction, could it?
“Come again?” I near squeaked, feeling at once, violated by his eyes. They were surely undressing me as I spoke!
He shifted, looking impatient as he crossed his rather built arms across his chest.
“You heard me. What is it? What the hell do you want now?”
It was then that I understood. It would be highly suspicious if he didn’t react the way he normally would, so I smiled thinly, fingering the wand inside my pocket as I normally would if I felt a fight coming on.
“I want world peace, Weasley,” I replied coolly. “Oh and, maybe your daft cow of a mother could help end world hunger and suffering too. She’d easily feed a few million starving wizards.”
“THAT’S IT!” he roared, brandishing his wand much faster than I would’ve expected. To the right of me I heard someone sigh, ‘oh Ron, don’t-’ in an almost orgasmic manner – had to have been the Mudblood – and almost out of nowhere I felt hands enclose around my neck from behind.
“Do it, Ron! I’ve got him,” someone hissed at my ear, and at once I knew it was Potter. “Not such a smartarse now, are you, Malfoy? I’m sick of your shite.”
“Ron! Harry! Stop it,” the Mudblood sighed again, but she was out of my line of vision. I could almost imagine her with her hands clasped together saint-style.
If Potter wanted me to struggle, I gave him a nice little disappointment, for I knew something he didn’t. I knew the truth about his best friend, and although the Weasel had moved to press the tip of his wand up against my temple now, I wasn’t afraid of him. Still, the pressure at my throat was a little uncomfortable, so I shifted uneasily to make a more exciting show for the onlookers.
Weasley seemed to be turning a raging shade of purple – not attractive in the least. I lifted my head a bit, arching an eyebrow as if to egg him on.
“You… you son of a bitch, Malfoy! You and me! Midnight tonight out by the Gardens! You are fucked! Do you hear me!”
Loud and clear.
Potter let go of me and I straightened the collar of my robes, wrinkling my nose as I smoothed my hair back to perfection and pocketed my wand. I wasn’t looking at Potter, and I wasn’t looking at the Mudblood. No, I was glaring fiercely at Weasley, mouth contorted to hide that I had started to bite my lip rather hard.
“Fine. I’ll be there,” I hissed, and glanced around to glare at anyone who had stopped to watch the show. A few students looked disappointed, and went on with their merry way after a couple more seconds of lingering. I finally looked to Potter and found that he looked murderous – as if he had finally cracked.
I smiled and left, beginning to contemplate why on earth my father would do this to me.
The end of the day came and went while I remain locked up within my Prefect’s quarters. I spent hours working on various assignments, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and contemplating how exactly this would happen. Supper hadn’t appealed to my taste buds, so I had skipped it to remain standing in front of the enchanted mirror by my bed for hours, trying to decide what to wear and how to carry myself.
“Honestly… me. Sleep with a Weasley? Not only is he a boy, but Merlin! It’s a Weasley!” I snapped, pulling a gray sweater off to toss onto the bed.
“Well, dearie, what is most important is that we do as our father says,” my reflection replied, and I frowned, shaking my head. My reflection always spoke the truth to me, and for this I loved it dearly. The mirror had been within my family for many decades, and was passed down generation after generation from one Malfoy heir, to the next.
“I know, I know. It just doesn’t make sense at all. I hate when he’s so cryptic about things.”
“Well you understand that our father has to be as ambiguous as he possibly can. You know his letters to us could be intercepted at any time.”
“I know, I know!” I sighed again, holding a green button up shirt to my shoulders. “How does this look?”
“Exquisite, as usual, but we wouldn’t want to ruin it, love. The gardens are hardly a clean copulation spot.”
“No one can know about this. I wouldn’t be doing this if I honestly thought our father wouldn’t find out.”
“Oh honey, it will all be okay.”
“Perhaps our father is testing us? Testing to see how far we will go to obey his instructions.”
“He could very well be.”
“After this, he will know that we will always be loyal and true to him. We will never betray our father or our family name.”
“Aren’t you a darling young man.”
“Why thank you, so are you. So then, shall I simply go with this robe?” I stated as I held up a silk, emerald-colored robe, feeling a bit better about the situation than I had been all day.
“That is a wonderful idea.”
“All right,” I replied, unbuckling my trousers to slip them down to the floor. “Tell me, how does this ‘sleeping with a boy’ business work? It seems quite disgusting to me as I can only think of one place where a boy would put his… into another boy,” I stated, making a face. “It doesn’t seem as if it would even work.”
“Well, at least we know where it would go then, because it truly does go there.”
“Fuck no! This is insane!”
“They are our father’s orders, so we will do as he says.”
I slipped the robe up and over the backs of my shoulders, wrapping it snuggly around my body. The concept of being naked in front of Weasley was downright sickening, and it did not seem at all enjoyable. The thought of what I would be doing in about an hour’s time only made me tie the butter-smooth belt harder around my waist.
“Smooth our hair behind our ears, love. And wear it loose.”
“Fine! Fine,” I growled, doing as I was told.
Before I knew it, the time had come. I slipped on my diamond-studded showering shoes, tucked my wand in my robe pocket, and left my room precisely at a quarter to midnight to sacrifice myself for the sake of my father’s trust. The walk down the corridors was agonizingly short, and I soon found myself stepping out into the cool, night air. A breeze ruffled the hem of my robe and circled around my bare calves, causing me to shiver and curse vehemently as I stalked out across the grounds towards the Gardens.
A figure stood near one of the Romanesque benches along the path entering the Gardens. I knew he would be alone, although I knew Potter and the Mudblood would have tried to come with him. As I stepped closer I told myself to relax and to breathe. Just breathe… but for some reason Weasley’s form seemed to loom tall and broad within the dim light of the magical flowers and plants. It wasn’t long before I stalked to a halt and crossed my silk-clad arms across my chest to match the other boy’s pose.
“Weasley,” I acknowledged, and as he stepped closer, I saw his eyes register my arrival.
“….Malfoy?!”
“Yes?”
“….What are you wearing!” he gasped, his dark eyes having widened to obscene proportions. I blinked a few times, swallowed thickly and wrinkled my nose. Repented or no, he was still a horrid Weasley.
“It is called a bathrobe.”
“A bathrobe.”
“Yes,” I gritted out between near gnashing teeth, growing frustrated. Still, I wasn’t going to complain. I was to do as the Weasel wanted me to do, and I somehow doubted that my complaining was what he wanted of me, foul wretch.
“…Erm…”
“Speechless? Fine. Must I always do everything?” I relayed, attempting to sound as pleasant as I could, although I was sure that there was an edge to my voice. I began to untie my belt, opening the robe slightly as I let the whole of it slip smoothly from the curves of my shoulders and down along my arms. Apparently this new display of skin gathered Weasley’s attention once more, as he had seemed to be frozen in shock.
“Malfoy!”
“Yes?” I replied, again, finding myself standing there completely naked. I inhaled a chilly breath, a forced myself not to shiver, expression complacent.
“…You’re…you’re…”
“I’m what?” I snapped, trying to move this along as fast as I could. Slipping out of my shower shoes, my feet sank down into the grass, and I shivered, finding it cold.
“… You’re…”
“Really Weasley. I don’t know whether I should be flattered or offended,” I hissed, lifting my chin as I began to move towards him. Body heat seemed to be a very inviting concept at the moment, so I reached my hands out to rub them against the front of his chest. His shirt was warm, and that was a plus, so I pressed myself a little closer, only to nearly topple over as he stepped backwards.
“Where’s your wand!” he demanded, seeming terribly flustered, and I tilted my head, registering the steady blush rising to his cheeks.
“Where’s yours?” I asked, suddenly genuinely wary of my vulnerability. I hated it, actually. I felt naked without my wand, not without my clothes.
“Right here,” he suddenly growled quietly, thrusting the offending piece of wood at my sternum. The tip nearly bruised the skin as he jabbed at me, looking both confused and contemplative. Still, I noticed that he couldn’t look at my face, and instead decided to focus his attention on my navel. His voice was a low whisper, but it didn’t sound as if he could help the matter.
Perhaps he thought I was being too forward.
Maybe I was supposed to play subservient.
“Weasley, put the fucking wand down.”
“No! You put your clothes on!”
“Why? That’s not going to get us very far. Here,” I sighed, nudging his wand down and away from a threatening position. He simply stood there, seeming to be trying his hardest to figure out what was going on, and I thought it was amusing. Perhaps he was attempting to play a bit beforehand – either way, as amusing as it was, it wasn’t helping things along.
“Ron,” I sighed quietly, forcing myself to look him in the eye. It was very…strange to say that… seemed really unnatural and I promised myself to never do that again, but it worked. It startled him and probably disconcerted him more than anything, but it made him stand still. He was only an inch or so taller than me, yet his shoulders were more broad and his torso seemed to be more muscled. I on the other hand was built more for seeking than anything. “You wanted to do this, so we will do it.”
“I… Malfoy…” he frowned, shaking his head sharply as I began to lift up his shirt. Still, I managed to get it over his head and down onto the ground, smirking to myself as I noticed him looking around for any voyeurs. I took his distraction as an opportunity to assess his frame.
His body was very good-looking when it came down to it – this conclusion having been made by what I thought a girl’s standards would be. His skin was warm to the touch, and everywhere that my fingers wandered, his flesh seemed to react by goose-bumping moments later. Underneath I found hard muscle – very different than a girl’s body, but not entirely disgusting, and as I tilted my head and massaged my thumbs along his firm sides, he started with a choked groan and stepped back again.
“Malfoy, I’m warning you…”
“Shut up all ready. You chose this spot, not me.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Shut. Up,” I snapped, feeling my almost-resigned mood had just been ruined. I forced myself to move forward by lowering my fingers to his belt, nimbly undoing it and moving in to snap the button at the top of his trousers loose. He jumped again, and I pursed my lips together, determined as I tugged his slacks down over the material of his boxers, hooked my fingers in the elastic of those too, and pulled them both down around his ankles. Weasley gasped at the sudden feel of cool air across previously protected skin, and I forced him to step out of the puddled material, starting to pull off his shoes as well. He leaned over my crouched body and I felt his rough hands fall to my shoulders so he wouldn’t topple over as I stripped him of his socks as well.
I rose, face to face with him once more, and felt the sudden, unsettling urge to slide my hands up along his back. Wondering what it would feel like, I pressed my palms flat against his lower back and felt my vision blur slightly as my blood warmed throughout my body.
Weasley’s chest rose and fell steadily, although I could feel that he was taking deeper breaths, and it made me smirk. The feel of his hands along my sides utterly surprised me though, and my eyes widened as he pulled me in closer against him and pressed his hips against mine.
“Shite.”
“What?” he murmured, and still with that stupid sort of Weasleyesque strain to his voice. Nevermind that I felt something thick and fleshy nudging at the juncture of my thigh. Nevermind that I felt something stir at my lower belly, and nevermind that it wasn’t disgust.
“…Do something you idiot,” I stated quietly as I scraped my fingertips over his spine. The next few seconds were filled with shock and something surprisingly akin to pleasure as I felt myself turned around, hands near palming the fronts of my thighs and his fucking cock pressing against me from behind.
“Better?” I heard him say, and I swear I wanted to smack the fucking freckles off his Weasley face because I knew the prat was grinning like an idiot. I was damned relieved that he couldn’t see my face, because all I could think was that he was hard and probably longer than I was. Bruise to the ego.
“Get on with it,” I murmured, attempting to sound as if I had done this before – although in any other situation I probably never would’ve ever wanted to lie about having shagged a boy before – and shifted so that every bit of his skin rubbed against mine, and had I known the little movement would run shivers across my own body, I surely would not have believed it.
I was trying to contemplate how I was enjoying this, and why on earth thoughts like ‘fuck me’ were running through my head since I wasn’t sure how painful this sort of ‘fucking’ was going to be…anything painful couldn’t be enjoyable, correct?
This was Weasley, and a boy, and boys have cocks like I do.
Weasley seemed to finally remember that I was Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy liked to talk a lot of shite that pissed him off, so he wasn’t very gentle when he nudged me down onto my knees directly in front of the Romanesque bench. I blinked and reached out for it, hands curling at the edge opposite to the one my stomach pressed against as I felt hands in places I’ve never felt before. I swallowed thickly, throat seeming to have gone suddenly dry as I spread my thighs apart since he seemed to be heading there anyway, and I jumped slightly as I felt his hands curl and massage at my inner thighs from behind.
I felt distinctly scandalized with the position I was in, and heard a rustling behind me with sounded like a summoning spell, but I wasn’t sure. Weasley suddenly splayed his hand against my back and pushed my stomach down onto the chilled marble-like surface of the bench, to which I hissed a protest, gripping the edge a bit harder than before. There were more indistinct noises that I wasn’t paying much attention to as I rested my chin on the bench and tried not to think about what would happen if Severus caught me like this.
“… Erm… Malfoy this is going to…” I heard just as I felt something wet between my arse cheeks, the tip of what I hoped was a slick finger poking where I’ve never felt anything prod so insistently before.
“I don’t care…” I replied simply, feeling my cheeks burn as I felt that finger pushing inside of me. It felt strange and foreign, and I tried not to think about what was actually happening, or how it felt. There wasn’t pain, but instead a simple buzzing pressure that made my hips squirm and my legs open even more as I arched my back to make it easier. The movements of his finger caused me to close my eyes tightly, rewetting my lips every two seconds as I tried not to tense - everything seemed to happen easier if I relaxed more.
I blinked my eyes open as my lower belly seemed to be filling with something hot and all that was left of the sensation was something that felt good. I didn’t even realize that my jaw had fallen slack, yet right as I had gotten used to this feeling of being invaded, I felt myself widening with the addition of more slick fingers.
Something triggered, and it felt like I needed something more. I was growing impatient as time seemed to be moving excruciatingly slowly, but just as I opened my mouth to say something snide, I felt suddenly empty.
“Weasley… what-” I murmured but promptly forgot how to speak as something bulbous replaced his fingers, and I swear it seemed to want to skew me alive.
“Stay still,” was all I heard as I felt the slick, mushroom head of his cock forcing its way further inside of me. Something popped and I snapped around him like a glove, worming my knees apart even more and arching my back to the point where it strained to curve anymore. This throbbing, intense stretching feeling invaded my senses, nearly making me delirious, and I gritted my teeth together, eyes closing shut with a guttural grunt.
“Fuck!”
Everything seemed to blur together, but I felt myself being pushed forward and pulled back every other second, the shape of his cock rubbing at me from somewhere deep within my body. My eyes fell half shut, lips parted as I tilted my head down to stare at my stomach, wondering if his thrusts would ever reach as far inside me as my navel. There was a hand at my hip and an arm wrapped around the front of my body, and I felt steaming hot breath across my shoulder blade, Weasley’s toned chest rubbing up and down along my back with each thrust. My body felt like it had puddled into nothing but boiling pleasure, my muscles having liquefied as my own cock throbbed and ached for release.
I must’ve been panting loudly - I wasn’t sure, as there were groans and grunts mixed in with the slick, smothered sounds of skin meeting skin throughout the air around us. My lower stomach burned and tightened, my cock bouncing slightly, untouched as I watched my own precome bead around the head.
Nothing made much sense at all to me, except I started to remember that I was being fucked senseless by a Weasley, and that I should feel some sort of loss of pride by this.
He mumbled something against my neck behind me, and I felt him nuzzling at my hairline as I furrowed my brow and tried to still myself from pushing back so eagerly onto his cock. The sweat remained heated across my body, and I wasn’t sure if the dampness between us was from my back or his stomach.
I opened my mouth to say something just as another one of his thrusts near lifted my knees up from the grass, and my head fell forward, strands of my own hair blocking my vision.
“Weasley…switch… it up already,” I managed, the movement forward from a thrust making my voice rise strangely towards the end of my demand.
“God...” he returned, and I shook my head, damp strands of hair clinging to my temples as I tried to gather up my strength. He sent me forward over the bench, positively squealing with a thrust that hit somewhere utterly pleasurable that I didn’t even know existed. My hips bucked uncontrollably, as I tried to get him to scrape that same spot again.
“Fucking hell!” I moaned, frustrated as I pushed back as hard as I could from the bench, causing us to both topple over. I felt him push up into me at a strange angle before leaving my body as I rolled over onto all fours and gathered my breath, feeling empty and stretched beyond belief. Thighs still shaky, I crawled atop the redhead, quite feverish with a need for something that I couldn’t quite register.
Weasley made a noise as he scrambled to sit up and grasp my hips, parting me once more to slide the full length of his veined cock back inside of me. My hands immediately went to his hair as I curled my back a bit to adjust, knees bent as I straddled him this time. The noises I was making were far from civilized, yet I couldn’t think of anything better to do than start bouncing.
There’s no feeling like it; like having something thick and throbbing and hot deeply imbedded inside of you. Sex with women was something I was used to, yet somewhere in the back of my mind I had already decided that this was something I wouldn’t be able to go without again.
“Gods…ngh…”
“Fuck…near there…almost…”
Weasley lay back against the grass and simply continued to grasp my hips, guiding me up and down along his ridiculously rigid cock, and I was past thinking that I should be worried about liking the in and out thrusting so much. I felt my stomach tighten so hard it began to spasm, yet my own cock stood out at attention, having gone untouched this entire time.
I bit my lip, rocking back and forth over Weasley’s hips and splayed my hand across my body, letting it glide smoothly south over the sweat gathering just where my line of hair began. My head fell back, eyes closed blearily and as I went to wrap slick fingers around my own cock, I felt a rough, massive hand swat my own away and squeeze my length instead.
My head rolled forward, eyes opening to their own accord and locked on Weasley’s dilated ones.
“Shite… oh hell,” I moaned, unaware of the needy sounds escaping my lips. He stroked my languidly as my body rolled and rocked atop him, and I felt everything draining towards my cock as I squeezed my arse around him. “Augnh…nnnghfuck…” My hands slid along Weasley’s stomach, balancing myself as my head fell forward, more unintelligible sounds dripping down my chin.
As ready for it as I was, I still wasn’t ready for the feel of it. His cock twitched, still deeply imbedded inside of me, and I felt hot spurts of his come coating my insides. I felt myself spasm and as those fingers squeezed hard around my flesh, a rush of pleasure nearly blinded me as I spilled myself onto his stomach.
Panting and aching with his softening cock still in my body, my shoulders slumped and I nearly fell forward. Weasley continued to lazily stroke me, thumb rubbing at the oversensitive head, and each time he did such, my body lightly convulsed. My hair, as long and messy as it was when it wasn’t gelled back, was strewn across my eyelashes as I blinked myself back into some sort of sense.
Father should be very proud of me.
My body felt like syrup, and I tossed my head back, lifting my hands to my chin to crack my neck.
“…Malfoy…”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, rolling my shoulders in their sockets as I pushed down on his stomach to lift myself up. He cooed, whined, but lay there as I slipped from his cock with a soft, wet ‘pop’.
My legs refused to support the dead weight of the rest of my body, and I near toppled over once more. To my surprise, I felt a rather painful ache begin to throb throughout my hipbones and lower back. My body was damp with all sorts of sweat, and I had the decency to realize I needed a scalding hot shower after having sex with the Weasel out in the open for anyone to see if so they pleased to.
This promptly brought me back to sanity.
Weasley sat up, and made sure he stayed up in that upright position by leaning back on his hands. He turned to look at me, but I refused to return his gaze as I looked around for my robe.
“…Hey, Malfoy…”
“I said shut up,” I replied tiredly. I was beginning to find the sound of his voice to be rather aggravating again,
but was more annoyed with the fact that my muscles had apparently atrophied in the past two minutes.
“No. Malfoy… what the hell?” he managed, his voice rusty and still somewhat lust-ridden as I hastily pulled on my robe and tied it sloppily at the waist. Then I gathered up my shower shoes and pulled those on as well, doing this all on the grass as my legs still refused to let me stand properly.
“What do you mean what the hell?” I spat, attempting once more to stand, and I was happy to find that I could do so, only I stood a bit bow-legged.
“I mean… what. Did you just come here planning to have sex with me?”
I gave him the best glare I could muster up at that moment.
“Never speak again. Ever. Just don’t ever open your bloody mouth. Now get up, put your fucking clothes on, and carry me.”
Apparently resigned to the fact that the night couldn’t get any more disturbing, he merely shrugged and stood to gather up his clothes. I remained standing, although the bench looked very inviting to sprawl out across, and when he finally pulled on his shirt, I arched an eyebrow.
“I’m serious. Just don’t carry me like a baby or a bloody newly-wed, and we’ll be fine. Maybe.”
“…I can’t carry you into the Slytherin dorms. What, you just expect me to waltz into your Commons?”
“You can drop me off at the fucking entrance, now get over here and pick me up you lumbering prat.”
Weasley ambled over to me and I have to say that his range of facial expressions kept surprising me with how many different ways he could express confusion. He studied me hard for a few moments before crouching down slightly to gather me up and toss me over his shoulder.
The walk back to my dorm wasn’t as challenging as I thought it was be. Once we entered the stone stairwell leading to the dungeons part of the castle, I let him set me down for the rest of the staircase until reaching the bottom floor. I held my hands up, and any other time I would have been belligerent, too full of pride to take any sort of help from anyone, yet after lowering myself to the point of shagging a Weasley, I had nothing left to lose.
He set me down once more at the entrance to the Slytherin dorms.
“Go away, you’re not hearing the password.”
“Excuse me? I just carried you all the way here. I believe I deserve an explanation you slimy, Slytherin git.”
“Explanation? You have all the explanation you need, although if you have any other instructions of importance to give to me do so now or go back to your dorm.”
“…What?”
“You heard me. Did my father tell you anything else? If you speak to him, tell him that I understood the test and I have passed with flying colors, or if you don’t, I will hex you.”
“What?! Lucius Malfoy!?”
“Yes, that is his name.”
“… You don’t make any sense, do you know that? Just bugger off!” he spat, and turned to storm off, giving the impression that I had somehow angered him.
Strange.
I shrugged, murmured the password quietly and slipped easily into my home away from home. I wandered over to the private hall that led to the Prefect’s quarters, ready to shed my now tainted robe and to take a lot, hot bath.
Upon unlocking the door with my own private password, I padded inside and kicked off my shoes, perfectly ready to collapse right there on the floor. I threw off my bathrobe, deciding that I would simply perform a scouring charm over my canopy the next morning, and shower for at least an hour as I couldn’t fathom taking more than the five steps to my bed.
Throwing back the curtains, I rubbed at my eyes and smoothed back my sweaty hair only to find this… this rodent curled up in the center of my bed!
It uncurled itself in a most twitchy manner, and reared up to a rather tall height on it’s hind legs, its forelegs punching the air. It looked almost…irate.
“Frarf!” it squeaked.
I jumped, my eyes squinting suspiciously. What the… what was that?
“Frarf! Where frarf were frarf you!” it squealed, it’s very high-pitched voice already starting to give me a headache.
More than anything, I was surprised that the vile looking beast could speak some broken form of English. If I had possessed any sense at all, I surely would not have started to answer back to it.
“What the shite are you and why the fuck are you in my bed!” I squeaked in return, covering my bare chest with my hands.
“Frarf! I frarf am frarf The Weasel frarf sent frarf by your fraraarrf father! You must frarf obey!”
In the next second, before I could hope to avoid the dawning comprehension…
Thump.
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Date: 2003-11-08 01:53 pm (UTC)Hey, would you ever want to do a quick look over something I'm going to post before I post it? I'm not going to say 'beta read' because that involves a lot of time and effort that you might not have for something like this - but maybe just read through it first and tell me if anything odd sticks out? :)!!!
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Date: 2003-11-08 02:16 pm (UTC)