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bottom_dracoTitle: Hijo De La Luna
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
les_lenne
Prompt: #159
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: There are some prophecies which are better left unfulfilled...
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): het, sex, language
Word Count: ~11.000
Author's Notes: I do hope you will be able to enjoy this story at least in parts. And I’m immensely grateful for my beta who is a lovely, fun person that deserves tons of cake. ♥
mod note: My apologies for the lack of fest posts yesterday. Something came up in RL and I didn't have time to do it. - a.
The sun shone perfectly bright upon him. Even his lips, usually the coldest part of his face thanks to his constant nibbling on them, were warmed by Mother Nature. Naturally, Draco began to doze off.
Trelawney, the old madwoman, was blabbering away in her strangest of voices and before sleep enveloped him fully, Draco took the chance to wonder how one person could possess such a wide range of tone. He sneezed quietly, and one blond string of hair fell into his vision. Then he let his droopy eyes close fully and bathed in the warmth of the sun while his head felt blissfully empty. No more worries about his father who, since returning from prison, had only eaten if forced by his mother who for her part had come to look equally ragged.
Even now, in this peaceful sleep, he could see their faces clearly. They weren’t looking like his parents anymore. His mother hadn’t come into contact with a single Dementor, and still, some days she looked emptier than his father.
Draco frowned in his dream and through the hazy feel of warmth pressing together he knew he was probably pouting in reality, too. He let his chin drop onto his chest and folded his hands, this time certain he had done it both in his dream and in the classroom, surrounded by more students that, if they hadn’t already, were about to fall asleep as well.
It was, of course, shocking him when something cold and sharp brushed his cheek. His eyes flew open, and had him staring into Trelawney’s goggles. He pushed himself up against the chair, thankfully cozy enough to let him sink into it and away from the wrinkled, bug-eyed lunatic.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Mister Malfoy!” she cooed, which Draco realized was a strange thing to do even with his brain lost somewhere between shock and drowsiness.
An elbow poked his ribs. He turned his head to find it had been Pansy, sitting next to him, who had done it. He was about to retort with a less physical but just as petty move when he realized something else.
All pupils were staring at him, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Some were grinning, a mad glistening in their eyes, others had sometime turned green and averted their gaze when he laid his eyes upon them. For a second he worried that someone had used him as the target of their disgusting little mockery again, like it had happened in the past weeks more than once – understandably, since most Slytherin kids got a bit of sympathy due to their parents being dead or locked up while he could still ‘enjoy’ them whenever he wanted. Therefore, he was about the only victim that made no one feel remorse for pulling prank after prank on them.
He didn’t want to touch his face, afraid of what he might find.
Trelawney inclined her head, coming yet closer, Draco sinking further into the chair. “Have you not listened, poor child?”
Draco didn’t agree on being called a poor child. However, setting his eyes on the most obnoxious trio of Gryffindors, he knew something was wrong. Potter’s gaze was void of emotion except utter misery, and his two friends didn’t look much better.
Draco turned his attention back to Trelawney who had started patting his shoulder. He slapped her hand away and furrowed his brows. “Another of your stupid prophecies?”
“Oh, Draco,” Pansy muttered next to him, her chuckle more audible the more she tried to hold it down.
“Let me tell you, poor child,” there it was again and Draco didn’t like it better when she had called him that the first time, but he kept his mouth shut firmly and listened when she went on, “it is you who the prophecy regards.”
“The next full moon, so far away, so close she’s yet, will bring an end to your…” Trelawney sniffed the air. “Celibacy.”
Out of the corners of his eyes he could see Pansy lifting her hand to stifle a full-blown bout of laughter.
“A young man, scarred so badly, so many ways, will take your virginal grace.”
Draco gawked at her. Breath caught in his throat as he tried to digest the information. He couldn’t prevent his face flushing, neither his hands gripping the armrests.
Beside him, Pansy was shaking. “I told you to loosen your chastity belt months, no, years ago!”
Crabbe looked positively befuddled. “So you’re still a virgin?” It seemed that, at long last, he had found something that he had beaten Draco at.
In this moment, Draco wasn’t feeling good enough to tell himself that intelligence mattered more than getting laid. There it was, the utter feeling of defeat, disgrace, embarrassment. And there was nothing at all he could do about it. He clenched his teeth.
“Well, Draco’s had his skivvies under lock and key for years,” Pansy said to Crabbe, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
So much for his self-proclaimed best friend. Draco shot her a hopefully fierce look, but she just laughed harder at him.
“Does that mean Potty is going to fuck him?” someone said.
The room became silent again. Everyone turned to look at Potter. Draco’s eyes widened. There were more than enough students with scars in the school! That was what he’d wanted to say, but, knowing better than that, he kept his rage to himself.
“Well,” Trelawney said, “the scar bearer, the taker of innocence, is in this room.” She wandered over to the table of Potter and his friends, but Potter was faster than her and pushed his chair back and away from her hand before she could swipe his bangs aside and show everyone the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
She seemed a little lost for a moment, then regained whatever she had of composure and walked back to her desk. She patted her ridiculously big crystal ball, more decoration than magical instrument, Draco mused – and hoped, bitterly – for his own sake. He watched her drawing circles on the ball’s surface, just to distract himself enough from all the people in the room.
They had started whispering to each other. Not so much whispering, more trying to make it sound like they were, but still talking loud enough for everyone to hear. Besides, with everyone talking, they had to raise their voices if they wanted to let their conversations live on sooner or later.
And it was sooner rather than later that the whole room was buzzing with arguments about the prophecy. He needn’t listen too closely to hear that not a single Slytherin was outright defending him, most were poking fun at him just as viciously as the Gryffindors in the room, but a few of them only gave curt answers which was a slight relief.
It was, of course, a mistake to avert his eyes and let the crystal ball be. What he found himself looking at instead was Potter, the worst thing to look at in all of the wizarding world right then. It got worse when Potter took himself out of the heated conversations the Weasley and the mudblood were having, and turned his head around.
They were staring directly at each other.
A rather nasty image popped into his head: Potter hovering above him, naked, then lowering himself on Draco who, to his dismay, was naked in this picture, too.
Potter, whatever he had thought of, turned bright red and then away, thankfully. Draco lacked the common sense to do so, and promptly people started talking about the first sign of a beginning infatuation.
He wanted to jump to his feet and storm out of the classroom badly, but risking detention with Trelawney and likely being given more details about what she wanted to add to the prophecy in hindsight made his stomach close in on itself. And he’d been hungry not half an hour ago, happily awaiting the meal after classes.
He cringed and crossed his arms which some Gryffindor girls took as him acting shy. They squeaked like half-crunched mice and Draco glared at them, cursing them to end up just that way. A futile wish; they burst out in high-pitched giggling.
The hands of the clock seemed not to move when he laid eyes upon them. He willed them to fast-forward, but unlike the hero of the school he had neither the power nor the training to make that happen. Draco groaned. He was getting a headache from all the frowning, but what other kind of face could he make?
Trelawney clapped her hands together. At first, the class didn’t notice her. She repeated the motion again, then again. Then she shrieked like a mandrake.
The class blinked, taken out of their naughty reverie. It was for the first time, but Draco did thank Trelawney profusely, even if it was only in his thoughts. No need to embarrass himself further. She had done enough of that already which was also a good excuse not to thank her audibly.
“When is the next full moon?”
It was with reluctance, but Draco saw the mudblood raising her hand.
“Yes, Miss Granger, please!” Trelawney smiled at her.
“Um, next month. The last one was yesterday.”
“Of course having a werewolf as a close friend helps knowing that, huh,” Pansy said.
Granger pursed her lips while Potter clenched his fists, just as the Weasley did.
Draco rolled his eyes, and then choked on his own spit when he heard a fellow Slytherin, McIan, speak up, “Maybe Potter will turn him into a werewolf!”
“Er.” Presumably all of the girls pulled a face at that. “Bestiality!” some murmured. Others looked creepily intrigued. Draco hugged himself tighter. He wanted nothing more than the chair to be eaten up by the floor. Poof! And away he’d be.
What his father would have to say to this!
If he could be coaxed out of bed, and made to listen to what the house elves had to say. Oh, how Draco remembered the day of Granger’s arrival on their doorstep, eager to let the house elves out of their sad state of work.
All of them had shaken their head. Now that all of their masters were in such a bad shape, they felt more needed than ever. Draco had been glad, not that he had said anything to them or anybody else. Glad that he could be sure that someone would take care of his parents while he was at school.
Where he didn’t want to be now anymore. Pansy patted his hair, and he even let her. That didn’t change things for better or worse. At least it gave him some sort of affection, however fake it might have been.
Trelawney swayed in the middle of the room. “Now go, my dear, poor children and procreate!”
For one long intake of breath, the room was gravely still. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. The roars of laughter from all sides made his ears ring, and they were already burning. His blond hair must be illuminated by it, shining orange, he mused, unhappy that his complexion gave his embarrassment way to express itself so openly to the world.
When he dared opening his eyes again most students had already left. Not all of them, though. Some took their time to stare at him, or at Potter. Few were brave enough to go to Potter and talk to him. None of them felt pathetic enough to talk to Draco. He was entirely too sure that those who would’ve done that were already busy planning how to get the most fun out of this. He braced himself for the next few minutes and told himself he could think of how to deal with this new situation after having eaten.
He sighed and pushed himself up. Though he wanted nothing more than to be alone, he smiled just a wee bit when he noticed Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and even Blaise were not only following him, but hiding him in a circle of leftover Slytherin pride.
*
He’d had a bad feeling all the way down to the dungeons, so he was hardly surprised about the greeting he got from his fellow Slytherins when he entered the common room. Greeting was too nice a word for the presentation of disgust and smugness they were giving. A small group of them kept to themselves. At the moment, Draco didn’t want to know what they were talking about. If they were scheming against him he should have been interested, and that was probably what they were talking about, but he didn’t feel like it. Dinner had completely drained his energies, what with Potter’s Weasley comrades yelling at him all through the Great Hall.
Crabbe and Goyle pushed two first-years out of the way. Pansy poked Draco in the ribs. He turned around and blinked when she pressed her lips to his. “Sleep tight,” she murmured and took the stairs to the left, where the girls’ dorms were located.
Draco rolled his eyes. As if a display of affection would make anything about this any better. He’d been friends with Pansy since she’d learned to walk; first thing he’d seen of her had been panties with a pink snake pattern when she had fallen over him. A kiss in the common room wouldn’t prevent the other students from harassing him.
Blaise led the way to Draco’s bedroom. Crabbe and Goyle said goodnight when they passed their bedroom. Somehow, Draco felt at the same time less agitated and more so, being alone with Blaise. He was undoubtedly the guy in Slytherin who had gotten around the most and somehow, with the problem at hand, Draco didn’t feel proud of having saved himself up for marriage any longer.
The little golden snake lock snapped open when Draco touched his wand to the snake’s eyes. He sighed and went inside after Blaise.
“They’re making bets, you know?” Blaise flopped down on his bed.
Draco went straight to changing into his pajamas. It had been a long day and he just wanted it to be over. “What kind of bets?”
“If you’ll succeed in losing your virginity before the full moon comes around, with who it will be with, et cetera, et cetera.”
Draco groaned and slipped into his satin pants. “Like there’s nothing more important to do.”
“I think you’re considered the second least sexy person in the whole school. Not because of your looks,” Blaise added when Draco shot him a dark look. “Because you’re such a bad person.”
“So I’ll just use a potion to look like Dumbledore and get laid.”
Blaise snickered and threw his pillow. Draco caught it in mid-air.
“I don’t want to get laid at all,” Draco murmured, more to himself, but audible enough that Blaise could pretend he had or hadn’t heard.
“That’s what I thought.”
On days like this, Draco was eternally grateful that his mother had once insisted he should have at least five pillows. Draco sank into his bed like into a cloud. He closed his eyes and snuck his hands underneath the top pillow, between two others. “Not my problem if the whole school’s losing their money to each other.”
“Yeah,” Blaise said and got up from his bed again to undress. By now Draco had gotten used to Blaise sleeping naked. At the beginning of their time as roommates, Draco had tried unsuccessfully to make him war something a little more modest. He’d given up after two months. Blaise had grown quite a lot over the summer – below. Draco blushed, not because of that thought, but because he wondered what Potter’s was like.
Thankfully, Blaise hadn’t noticed the ogling. He stretched on his mattress, his one lone pillow supporting his head. “You know, Draco, even if you’re the second least sexy person, you should be careful.”
“How come?”
“Some people placed the bets on themselves.”
Something he couldn’t quite grasp, cold and heavy, made his chest tighten. “So?”
“Just watch out, alright?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Okay.” Shouldn’t be too hard, Draco thought. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to slip him poison, or a love potion, just to win a stupid bet. Part of him surely could imagine, but it was a small one, and he wasn’t worried. In a month’s time, it would be over. The students would find something else to be obnoxious about and leave him alone.
“Night, Blaise.”
“Mmh,” was the only thing Draco heard in response, and he wasn’t even sure it had been directed at him. He turned around and stared at the wall. He felt cold.
*
“I’m sorry, Professor.” Of course he’d noticed. And of course he knew. Everyone knew. Draco felt like digging a hole and forever disappearing into it. Two obstacles prevented him from doing so: One, the floor in Professor Snape’s office was solid, a hundred years old stone, and second, he was dead tired. His magic had flickered on and off for the past two days and today, he hadn’t even been able to open his own door’s lock anymore. Falling asleep in Potions class had been even worse.
He hadn’t gotten detention for it, much to the Potter crews’ grief. Draco would have preferred detention over having to explain to the Professor why this had happened in the first place. Especially when the Professor didn’t want to wait any longer for an answer, and went into his head without asking for permission. Draco was a second too late, and probably couldn’t have prevented it anyway with his magic sizzling out like a dying flame. “Professor,” he hissed, his cheeks brightly lit.
“Potter,” Professor Snape said, maintaining a detached tone peppered with disgust. “Trelawney’s prophecies have hardly ever proven to be correct, Draco.”
“I’m aware of that, Professor,” he answered in all honesty. Hell, he didn’t expect this prophecy to come true, but his mind and body had, in the dark of the night, different ideas. So many of them that Draco had seriously begun questioning his own morals. What he dreamed of was simply… wrong. Disgusting, even. The only way to keep himself from it was staying awake.
Professor Snape sighed. Draco thought of an angry dog, but quickly dislodged the thought. Black’s Animagus was a dog and he had his doubts about the Professor liking dogs due to that fact. “You must not proceed to act like this in class, Draco.”
Draco nodded and bowed his head. “It’s not that easy, Professor.”
“I thought so, and have prepared a potion.” A small vial filled with a lilac liquid floated into the Professor’s hand. “The Finest Slumber.”
Draco took the vial and frowned. Professor Snape’s potions were always perfect, he wasn’t about to question that fact. Still… “I won’t dream, right?”
“You shouldn’t be able to dream if you take this potion an hour prior to going to bed.”
The muscles in his neck that had been tense the past days relaxed. “Thank you, Professor.”
“If you do happen to dream, then a different kind of magic is stronger than the potion. I doubt there is one on par, though.”
He didn’t mind the smugness. If the Professor was right, he’d get a wonderful night’s sleep and that was exactly what he needed. He’d go to bed early today, and thanks to the next day being Sunday, he’d sleep in. Everything was going to be fine. Splendid, even.
“You may leave now.”
Draco nodded and dropped the vial into school bag. “Good night, Professor.”
“Yes, Draco.”
*
Saliva trickled down his chin, two drops falling onto his chest and slowly gliding around his pert nipple. He heard a dark laugh from behind and something cold and wet brushed against his asshole. It was a knuckle, and it was poking in next thing he knew. Draco let his head fall back. When he looked up, two green eyes shimmered down at him. A wicked smile was on the lips of the man whose middle finger pushed inside his ass.
“Potter,” Draco gasped. “What the hell?” His voice sounded unnaturally high in his own ears. He didn’t want to know how it’d sound to Potter.
Potter licked his lips, then pursed them. “Draco, I thought we were beyond that.”
Beyond what?, Draco thought, but could only moan as Potter’s finger fucked him. It went in and out way too smoothly. This wasn’t the sex of a girl, it was his ass. It shouldn’t have been that easy. Couldn’t have been, right? But apparently it was.
Draco rolled his hips. Telling himself to stop didn’t help. He kept doing it, and his breaths came with a higher frequency soon.
“Call me Harry.”
“Like hell I will,” Draco said and bit his tongue because he was so close to calling just that name out. “Get your hands off of me.”
Potter whistled. “Is that a game, Draco?” He leaned down and nibbled on Draco’s ear. Draco shivered pleasantly, his cock leaking precum already. Potter smirked. “You know what I think?”
“That this is a fucking nightmare?”
“Well,” Potter said and chuckled, “the fucking is about right.” He bent his finger inside, then unfolded it again. “I think you want me.”
“No,” Draco all but wailed. He couldn’t even close his mouth anymore. Only breathing through his nose made him feel dizzy.
Potter licked the shell of his ear and Draco whimpered, his hips snapping forward and away from Potter’s fingers, though they followed promptly. “You want me to fuck you all night. You don’t want me to be gentle, not tonight. You need it hard and fast, but I’ll only give you hard because I want to hear you scream and beg.”
A shudder made loose strands of hair fall over Draco’s eyes. “Shut up, Potter.”
“And then, just when I know you’re about to cum, I’ll pull out and lean back. And you know what you’ll do? Tell me, come on.” Potter’s finger was by then rubbing all over his inner walls, and Draco’s cock twitched, desiring some much-needed attention Potter wasn’t about to give – oh God, he’d just thought about Potter’s hand… mouth… on his cock.
He needed to get off on this, and then away. Quick. Draco shut his eyes firmly. He didn’t want to see the stupid jerk grinning like a mad cat. “I will ride you. Sit,” Potter’s finger went out of his ass and left Draco yearning for their return, “sit on your prick and fuck myself on it.”
“Shit, Draco,” Potter whispered, breathing into his ear. “I need you. Now.”
When Potter pushed him, Draco readily splayed his fingers over the sheets and supported himself on knees and arms as if he’d do it for the thousandth times. His brain was pounding inside his skull.
Potter slid in, like getting back home, and Draco arched his back like a cat, mad like a hatter.
*
The sunlight shone upon his face, and burned his eyes when they shot wide open. He was lying on his stomach, and he was hard. Draco pushed one trembling hand down his pants, past the waistband and pulled himself off. The memory of his dream fresh in his mind, so fresh actually that he could feel a cock inside of him when there most certainly wasn’t one. Especially not Potter’s; hell, he was a goddamn virgin in every way, shape, and form possible. Still, the sensation was more than vivid.
Sticky semen splattered into his hand and he let out a sigh of relief. His hair was a mess, bangs tickling his nose. Draco sat up, panting heavily. He needed a shower. The clock on his nightstand told him that, by now, he wouldn’t get breakfast any longer, but also that the shower of the boys’ dorm would be vacant.
He shoved the blanket away and hopped out of bed – and then he shrieked.
“My,” Pansy said, clasping her hands over her ears. Her cheeks were a distinct shade of red, clashing with her green shirt. “You do scream like a little girl, Draco.”
“How long’ve you been here, Pansy?!”
“Oh, about the time when you started humping your mattress. Had a nice dream?”
Instead of waking him up or leaving, she had watched him. Not very surprising, and Draco put down a mental note to write his mother that he needed a more powerful lock than the one he was currently using. “I’ll never ask for any of Professor Snape’s potions ever again,” he said through gritted teeth.
Pansy shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got you some breakfast.”
His chest warmed up considerably, easing away the shock he’d lived through waking from that unbelievable nightmare. “Thanks,” he said, his lips curling up for a small smile.
She waved her wand and a plate full of good stuff appeared on Draco’s nightstand. He pulled it onto his lap and licked the honey off his fingers as drops of it ran over his thumb. Pansy sat down on the far end of the bed, crossing her legs. Draco looked up at her briefly and felt his cheeks flush again. There’s no reason to act all embarrassed, he told himself. If he kept his cool, the situation would feel more normal in a timely fashion.
“So, got a plan?” she asked.
The honey tasted sweet on his tongue and was heavy on his lips. Sticky, warm – Draco remembered his dream and cursed quietly. He cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll have to get laid.”
The grin on Pansy’s face was unbearable. Instead of watching her a moment longer, Draco averted his eyes and gulped down a good amount of the warm milk she had brought him. She loved these dramatic pauses, and right then she was doing a fantastic job. Or so she probably thought, Draco mused.
Eventually, the pause was over. “Any… uh. Ideas? You know, losing your virginity is a big thing. At least for guys like you.”
“Guys like me,” he parroted, swiping his mouth as milk spilled over his chin.
“Pureblood guys with a name like yours attached. The Malfoys. Come on, your parents will probably insist you marry the girl. And chop someone’s head off if it’s Potter.”
“Wouldn’t be too bad in Potter’s case. The head getting chopped,” he added when Pansy pursed her lips and raised a brow. “It’s not going to be with a boy.”
“So who is the lucky girl?”
Not like he had a real choice. Most girls avoided him like the plague. Although the whole school was involved with the bet now, so there probably were some who would do it just to win and get the money. He wasn’t fond of the idea to have sex with a person like that. Considering that Pansy was right, even less so. His parents would force him to marry that girl, and if she wouldn’t agree to it, all hell would break loose. Life was already bad enough without this sort of problem.
Draco chewed on his lips.
“Me?” Pansy said. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Thank you for not insulting me with this most sensitive way of responding.”
Pansy pulled the blanket over her legs, stretching them out. Cold toes between his, still hot from sleep and dreams. He shivered and put the empty plate back on the nightstand. The honey felt like glue inside his stomach, weighing him down.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just… we’ve known each other for so,” she laughed, “so long. And you don’t practically propose to a girl who has just seen you come in your sleep while thinking about a boy.” Her left foot pressed into his crotch.
Draco gasped and pressed his lips together, accidentally biting down. Droplets of blood were drawn from the ripped skin. The coldness of her toes shouldn’t have turned him on, but he’d still been half-hard when he’d woken up. Now his cock was fully erect.
Her big toe circled the tip and through only a thin layer of fabric, too. “It’s not a proposal.”
“We’ve just talked about your parents and how they’d set up a marriage if you had sex with a girl.”
“They don’t need to know.”
Pansy smirked and dove underneath the blanket, popping up between his legs, pushing herself up on her hands so her face was inches apart from his. Now or never, Draco thought, and leaned forward. He’d never kissed anyone, not with the intent of sleeping with them. Her lips were soft and moist. His were probably scratching her.
He leaned back against the wall. “They won’t know.”
“I’m all yours,” she said. From close up, he could see her sharp vampire-like teeth and her smile looked ten times as vicious. Still, he trusted her more than any other girl in the school. Which was pathetic. Pansy was widely known as one of the most manipulative, back-stabbing girls ever born. His mother had always warned him of her, and she’d been right back then. He’d been too innocent and man, getting sand thrown into his eyes had hurt. Again and again, until his father had yelled at him and locked him up so that next time, he’d be the one blinding Pansy temporarily, not the other way around.
“Hey!” Her fist connected to his ribcage.
Draco winced.
“If you want sex, maybe you shouldn’t be all staring at walls. Look at me.”
He did, and all he could see was Pansy, not even reaching the desk of his father which she was trying to climb as she had seen an artifact glimmer in the moonlight. And he could see himself, standing in the middle of his father’s study, tears in his eyes because he was afraid of the trouble Pansy was getting them into.
She grabbed his wrists and put his hands over her breasts. Sometime during his walk through childhood, she had apparently gotten her shirt off. Now she was watching him expectantly.
*
He’d never had anything to do with bras before. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen one, but it was the first time someone expected him to open the thing. For a while, though, he was simply mesmerized by the sight of Pansy’s plump breasts being held up by a net of white lace. It was quite the sight, and went straight to his cock. His pants bulged under Pansy’s hands. She was trying to get them down.
“Let me,” he whispered and raised his hips. Finally her efforts paid off.
Then she seemed to decide that letting him take care of the bra would take too long and undid it on her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down on top of her.
Her feet had been cold, but the rest of her body was well heated. Draco rubbed his crotch into her skirt. She simply lifted it and hooked her fingers under her panties to pull them down enough so that he could comfortably lie between her legs with all the access he needed.
“Give me your hand, Draco.” Even though she had just asked, her hand was already leading his.
‘Wet,’ was all he could think. Then his mind added ‘wobbly’ to it and he pulled a face, glad that she wouldn’t be able to see him grimacing because she was hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
His fingers slid between the folds of skin and Pansy made strange noises, high and short of breath. It was too easy to sink into her body and he almost didn’t notice his finger was in – only when he was enclosed, two slick walls around him, did he realize that he was, in fact, fingering a girl.
Draco shuddered, and in turn, Pansy dug her nails into the back of his hand.
“Press… your finger…”
“Where?” He was glad to be born a boy. At least a cock was visible. Nothing to miss there, the direction pretty obvious. “How?”
“Towards my stomach, okay?”
He crooked his finger and rubbed the wall that pointed to her bellybutton. She moaned his name. Draco stopped the motion and felt cold sweat trickle down his temples. What the hell was he doing!?
Not like it could be stopped now. He swallowed hard. “Does that feel good?”
“Am I getting wetter?”
His palm, cupping her crotch, was covered with whatever was coming out of her. He nodded. “You, uhm, are.”
“Then rest assured it’s fucking amazing.” She slapped the back of his head with her other hand. “So keep it up.”
He chuckled, and some of the tension went away. This was just like playing, and besides, it was making sure he wouldn’t lose his virginity to someone crazy, or worse, Potter, just because a madwoman had decided she was in the mood to make his life even more of a living hell than it had already been.
Potter. The hero. The good man. Making everyone’s future brighter, except Draco’s, which was pitch-black.
And Pansy’s? Wasn’t much better either. It would certainly not get any better for her doing this. That she had agreed so willingly either meant she was hopelessly optimistic or hopelessly pessimistic and trying to get the most out of life before they got kicked into kissing Dementors and kissing their lives goodbye.
“Draco?”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“You kinda deflated just now.”
“Deflated?”
Oh.
Draco, when he was no longer caught by surprise, pulled his fingers out of her and rolled off. He really wasn’t hard anymore. He sat up and stared down at himself. Soft, and definitely not in the mood to get back up anytime soon. Not with Pansy in the same area. “Fuck.”
“Rather not,” Pansy muttered. “At least get me off?”
“How about no?” He used the blanket to clean his fingers off and hopped out of bed. “You’re the worst.”
“Fine.” She gathered her clothes and somehow managed to get dressed in less than a minute. She was still flushed and her frown was looking more threatening than her evil grin had.
Draco shrunk into his closet, searching for today’s outfit. Guilt wasn’t really called for, was it? If his body said no, his mind could be logical as all hell. So sleeping with Pansy hadn’t been the right answer to his problems. Somehow, he was relieved. Trying to hide his relief was crucial for his further strategy – which he hadn’t thought of yet. Angering Pansy was always a bad idea though.
“You should try it with a boy, Draco. Just saying. I always had an inkling that you were gay, but that just settles it.”
He decided not to argue. “And who would you recommend?”
“Crabbe or Goyle…”
Draco’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Come on, they’d do anything for you.”
“I said no, Pansy.” He was desperate, but he was still a Malfoy. He had some dignity left over, no matter how hard everyone was trying to crush him to the bones.
She put her hands on her hips. “That just leaves us with Blaise. He’s attractive, he’s definitely got enough experience, and your parents wouldn’t even be that angry I guess. Thinking you’re just two boys fooling around.”
“Well,” Draco began, eyes scooping up to look at a corner of the ceiling. Blaise was attractive, at least. “Isn’t he straight?”
“Straight as – well, as straight as can be, huh. You could always use Polyjuice, though.”
Draco pulled a face. “I’m not going to have sex as a girl.” Pansy had told him getting fingered felt good, but he really wasn’t sure if he could stand the novelty of unknown genitalia added to the novelty of having sex for the very first time. It all seemed a bit much. A new body, and a new experience? No, he could definitely only stand so much.
“Then good luck at getting him into it.”
*
Blaise had just dropped into bed like a dead man. He stretched, his nude chest rising, the muscles of his stomach pulling taut. Draco watched, intrigued and a little nervous. Another day had passed with no less than twenty people trying to get into his pants. Most of them had either had warts, and some of them had even been mudbloods. Draco hardly had anything to lose. Yet starting this conversation was strangely intimidating.
Probably because Blaise had just snogged one of the younger Slytherin girls in the common room and the girl had practically fallen unconscious in his arms, her eyes glistening with infatuation as if he had poisoned her with a love potion; well, at least that example had proven he liked blonds. If Blaise would be willing to have a blond without breasts was up to discussion. And that discussion was to be happening now.
Draco cleared his throat and hugged his pillow. He tried to clear his face of any expressions. Fortunately, his cheeks didn’t heat up. “I have to talk to you.”
The suddenness with which Blaise got up made Draco jerk. He blinked, and bit his lip, casting his eyes down. Damn, now his nervousness was more than obvious. He could see Blaise cock an eyebrow, then incline his head. “Yes, Draco?”
He shivered at the mention of his name. Maybe Blaise already suspected what the topic would be and was up to taunting him. Whatsoever, the full moon wasn’t waiting for him to come to terms with himself, nor to gather his courage in a timely fashion. “Pansy and I…”
“Ah. So how was it?” Blaise grinned. “She’s pretty pushy, isn’t she?”
His cheeks burned. “Yes, but we didn’t.”
Blaise frowned. “You didn’t.”
“I couldn’t,” he said, voice embarrassingly tiny. He glanced over at Blaise.
“And now you want the aid of the fantastic Blaise?”
“Sort of,” he said and looked him in the eye. “She suggested trying it with a boy.” It wasn’t much needed to imagine a clockwork turning behind Blaise’s forehead until he had finally worked it out.
He laughed. “You want to have sex with me?”
“Shut up,” Draco hissed. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Oh, I feel so appreciated.” He was still chuckling. The scary part was how he got up, all naked, and came over. Blaise came to a halt in front of Draco’s bed and looked down on him.
Draco knew he was shivering, but he refrained from leaning back. “So?”
Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not going to Polyjuice into the hottest girl in town, I guess. Nor your mother.”
“Fuck you.” He cringed; had Blaise ever thought of sleeping with his mother?
“Alright.”
Draco snorted. “Alright?”
Blaise leaned forward and closed the space between them. His lips were soft and a little plump, and his kiss was much more pliant than Pansy’s. Draco gripped the pillow tighter, his fingers curling into the satin. He was already lying down when he realized that Blaise had climbed on top of him, and that Blaise was undressing him.
Blaise’s tongue tasted like dark chocolate, bitter, and also salty, probably because of today’s dinner. Draco complied when Blaise took a hold of the pillow and pushed it under his bare bottom, though he wasn’t quite sure when his bottom had been bared.
With nothing to hold onto any longer, Draco felt like a fool. He pressed his hands, little shaky fists, into his chest.
Blaise pulled at his wrists. “Most girls like to wrap their arms around their lover’s shoulders.”
“’m not a girl,” Draco murmured, already caught in the follow-up kiss, more tongue than before, less air filling his lungs for a second. Enough to sneak his arms around Blaise’s waist and spread his fingers over the protruding shoulder blades.
“No, you’re not.”
Blaise not only knew that, Draco guessed. He would also be able to feel it by now. Draco certainly could feel his erection slide against Blaise’s. And hell if it didn’t feel amazing. Blaise’s hands were on his hips, and Blaise’s tongue was in his mouth, and it wasn’t so different from what he had shared with Pansy, but until now, he hadn’t deflated. His mind hadn’t wandered either, though he had known Blaise for about the same amount of years as Pansy.
He didn’t want to think about the gay issue; not that it’d have changed anything about having to marry to let his family’s name live on.
Suddenly, Blaise’s hands were wandering, and it tickled when he brushed the inside of Draco’s thighs, so he tried to get away from it by spreading his legs. Just what Blaise had had in mind, apparently, because he settled down in-between.
Something was… off, but Draco couldn’t yet put his finger on it.
Then Blaise’s fingertip was pressing into him and Draco scratched him.
“Ouch. Is that how dragons do it?”
“Stop that.”
“Draco, I’m pretty sure Trelawney wasn’t talking about petting.”
When he had planned to do it with Pansy, he had been set on the penetrative part. Sure. “The old hag has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Blaise pushed his finger deeper inside, and Draco thought of a dancing worm. A much too big worm. He bit into his cheeks. It was definitely bearable, but this wasn’t what he wanted. Or was it? He wasn’t sure, but at the same time, it felt awfully wrong.
“Draco, just relax. I’m sure you’ll like it. I’m a very careful partner.”
The kiss he received was sweeter than the ones they’d exchanged before, and Draco had thought of them as quite sweet already. He almost forgot about the uneasiness, but it came back crashing like a tidal wave too soon. “If you really are, then stop it.”
The worm stopped dancing. “I’m not going to let you do me. I’m just not that type of guy.”
Draco closed his eyes and sighed. The pressure inside got better; Blaise had pulled out. “I’m not going to apologize.”
“No, you’re not that type of guy,” Blaise agreed and, to Draco’s surprise, kissed him again. And the kiss wasn’t any less sweet. “We can still get each other off, right?”
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked up. “Sure.” Maybe, if he was lucky enough, jerking someone off and getting jerked off by that someone at the same time would be enough to satisfy the prophecy.
Him. Luck.
Who was he kidding?
*
The rest of the school didn’t know about him and Blaise, and though Draco was partially relieved to not hear anything about his two failed tries, the stalkers were getting more than simply annoying. At the beginning, they had only followed him around. Now some of them had started groping him. He’d never been so popular. He’d never been so despised either.
All mixed-up, it was the worst reputation ever.
This had been a lucky day so far. The halls he chose to wander were empty, and no one had managed to sneak up on him either. With his potions book in hand, Draco watched the Quidditch training of the Ravenclaw house from one of the high window. Their team was astonishingly bad this year, but playing Quidditch had degenerated into trying to kill your enemy over the past months anyway. Especially Seekers ended up with a lot of bruises, broken bones, and a concussion.
He dreaded the date of the next Slytherin Quidditch training. At least only balls could touch him up in the air, and not some obnoxious student trying to win a bit of money.
“Hey, Mall-o-Foy,” a voice called.
Draco inhaled deeply and turned around. He didn’t know the boy who was approaching him, but he was wearing a yellow scarf so it was most likely a Hufflepuff or, and he wasn’t sure if that would be worse, a student of another house disguising himself willingly as a Hufflepuff. What an utter disgrace.
Draco scrunched his nose. “Malfoy, to be precise.”
“Whatever.” The boy stood before him, high as the Astronomy Tower. Draco hated people looming over him, but at least this person had a nose and normal-colored brown eyes. The arrogant expression was quite similar to the Dark Lord’s though.
Draco shrunk into the windowsill. “What do you want?”
“You know.” The boy shrugged and grabbed Draco’s ass.
Draco froze. “How much are you going to win if it happens today? You’ll have to share with a few other students, you know. It’s not worth the trouble.”
“Oh, it definitely is because I added myself into the bet, you know? The money will be all mine.”
He’d expected people to have sick ideas, but to actually go through with them was another story. And someone wearing Hufflepuff colors on top of that. Draco cringed, in- and outwardly. The boy didn’t seem to mind. He grinned and undid his tie, tossing it on the floor.
Draco watched as the piece of cloth fell, horrified to feel a raw tongue lick his skin. Stop freezing, he told himself, but that didn’t work. He stood there, immobile with fear. The halls were empty. No steps could be heard. Or maybe it seemed to be so quiet because the only thing he could very audibly hear was the ragged breathing of the guy feeling him up. His breath smelled, too, of cigars, strangely, which reminded Draco of his father.
Draco shut his eyes and gulped as hands wandered over his sides. “Release me from that stupid spell,” he ground out.
“Nope, not gonna happen,” the boy retorted and pulled Draco’s robes up.
The air was fresh with no second shield of protection.
“Expelliarmus!”
The Hufflepuff boy crashed into the wall opposite of Draco. He blinked and got to his feet staggering. Someone in red and gold, glittering with courage, suddenly stood in front of him.
Draco watched the scene, inhaling like a drunken sailor, and exhaling like electrocuted chicken. The Hufflepuff fled, and the Gryffindor turned around.
“Potter,” Draco hissed, strength returning in the blink of an eye. At least the strength to open his mouth. His face flushed when Potter walked over and yanked his robes down.
Draco crossed his arms over his chest and tried sinking into the solid wall behind him. “I don’t need your help.”
“Malfoy, cut it out.” Potter’s eyes were wide and wild. “He could have raped you! He would have… god damnit.” He rubbed his forehead in what seemed to be exasperation and disbelief.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Things like that happen, Potty.”
“I know that.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to thank you. If you’d let him do it, I’d be spared the disgrace of fearing you might do it.”
“I would never rape you.”
Draco cackled. “But someone else?”
Potter, surprisingly, started blushing. “No, of course not,” he stammered.
“Good for you.”
*
Potter had not said anyone. He’d explicitly used ‘you’. And Draco couldn’t help wondering about that when he slowly went down to the dungeons, knees still weak.
Just a few more days, he told himself before falling asleep.
*
He woke to the smell of honey and cinnamon, and to a warm hand on his bare belly. Draco felt his lips curling up in a smile even before he opened his eyes and looked up at the man whose lap was his pillow.
Potter’s scar was half-hidden behind his bangs, droplets of sweat rendering his hair somewhat wet. Draco reached out, and when his hand found its place in Potter’s neck, Potter had already bowed his head to kiss him.
His tongue tasted like the air smelled. Draco sighed happily and looked around. They were lying in an open field, a river nearby, from the sounds of it.
“You’re safe here,” Potter said.
Draco looked back up at him. “Mmh?” He didn’t understand. It was so beautiful. So calm. He’d never felt so serene before. Nothing bad had ever happened, nor would ever happen to him.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
His throat clogged up with the memories of pain.
Potter pulled him up and into his arms. Potter’s hands were soft and warm, and it didn’t bother Draco that they were both naked, nor that Potter was stroking the small of his back, and kissing him tenderly – right in the open, where everyone walking by could see them, by chance.
But even if that happened, nothing bad would come from it.
“Mother and Father…”
“I’ll keep them safe, too. All is well.”
Draco sobbed.
Sobbed into the darkness; solid darkness, and a second later he realized that it wasn’t Potter’s but Blaise’s shoulder he was leaning onto.
*
One or two years earlier, and he’d have felt special for having a stalker. Now it turned him into a panicky mess. He didn’t quite suspect it to be the Hufflepuff guy. His grudges had already been satisfied when he’d told the whole Great Hall of the submissive little Draco, so scared of sex that he couldn’t even defend himself from a predator.
Trying to argue that the guy had used a spell on him was of no use. The Great Hall wasn’t interested in his part of the story. When Draco had risked a glance at Potter, though, he’d been surprised to see him glaring at the Hufflepuff, munching on his breakfast so hard that he bit his tongue and pulled a face ten seconds later.
Draco had thankfully gotten rid of Blaise’s motherly feelings soon enough. His breakdown had apparently triggered Blaise’s need to be a big brother of some sort. The prospect of fucking the girl with the best grades had turned him back into what he’d always been, and had freed Draco from one stalker.
Now there was only one person left who was following him around. Unfortunately one that hid pretty well in the shadows. His watchful gaze was palpable though, and sometimes Draco could feel someone’s hands on his hips when he was about to stumble, after someone had kicked him in the shins, but whenever he turned around, there was no one to be seen except the one who had tried to make him topple over, looking confused and angry before storming away.
Sitting at the Slytherin table, Pansy to his left, and no one to his right, Draco was relieved to be spared the unwelcome attention for once in what already felt like an eternity. He could easily deal with the pranks of the Slytherins, but he refused to deal with an invisible friend. For the most part, he ate in silence, yet he groaned upon realizing that, to his right, bread crumbs were somehow disappearing.
When Draco left the Great Hall that evening, he knew he was being followed again, and that it was time to act.
*
It wasn’t the best plan, but it was a plan. Draco crouched behind one of the rare statues that never moved and listened intently. He could hear tentative steps. Whoever had followed him had obviously lost sight of him. Draco grinned and waited till the sounds grew louder. Eventually he could hear someone breathing quietly.
Now or never.
Draco lunged forward, someone yelled, and Draco got a hold of silky fabric. He pulled, and his fan was revealed. Draco gasped.
“What the hell, Potter!?”
“Let me explain!” He coughed. “And get off my chest.”
Draco pursed his lips and got up.
Potter stared at him and eventually got to his feet, too. “Thanks for helping me up.”
“You’re welcome. What’s wrong with you? I mean, beside the obvious.”
Potter cleared his throat and had the dignity to straighten his robes. “After that… incident… I thought it was good idea to keep an eye on you, just in case.”
“How Gryffindor of you.” Draco tapped his foot. “You haven’t kept an eye on me though. It was both eyes and the rest of your idiotic body.”
“I helped you!”
“I don’t want your help!”
Potter cocked his head. “Don’t want it, but you definitely need it.”
“I. What. No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” Potter was coming closer, inch by inch.
Draco was retreating, inch by inch. He cursed every brick in the world when his back hit the wall. “Considering the prophecy pertaining us, that sounds a lot naughtier than intended, Potter.”
Potter’s face was glowing in the dark. “Shut up.”
He’d never quite felt like this before. Anger, rage, boiling inside of him, gathering in his hands. And then it was already too late. His fist connected with Potter’s nose; then Potter’s fist connected with his stomach. Draco slid to the floor and gave Potter a push, sending him down as well.
He rubbed his face on his sleeve and frowned. There was blood. He hissed. “Nothing is well, you freak.”
Potter blinked and shook his head. “Wha-?”
Draco’s fist hammered into Potter’s head, chest, neck, shoulders, arms, sides. “Nothing is well. Nothing!”
Then Potter shoved him hard.
His head hit the statue he’d used as a hideout. He groaned, feeling like needles were piercing his brain.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Potter’s voice sounded strange. Multi-layered, high-pitched and dark at the same time. His image was blurred, too.
“Harry!” A coarse voice called, either from a sore or from an old throat.
Draco raised his head and looked around, disoriented for a second. Then colorful robes came into sight, and Draco sighed. On the bright side, it was none of Potter’s muggle or Weasley friends who’d found them. Dumbledore’s tender, bemused gaze which he laid upon them both was annoying, but would at least not lead to shouting.
The old man pulled him to his feet. Potter got up on his own. Draco glared at Potter and yanked his arm out of Dumbledore’s spider fingers. “One hundred points from Slytherin… again?”
“I doubt this would be a wise idea, young Malfoy,” Dumbledore said softly. “Your… kin might react badly to points lost because of your behavior.”
Draco licked his lips, tasting salt and iron on them. “So what,” he whispered. “Can’t get much worse, can it.”
Dumbledore inclined his head. “You might dislike my decision, but I’m certain it will lead to the best outcome.” Now Dumbledore’s eyes wandered away, onto Potter. “Detention. For both of you.”
“Professor!” Potter said, his indignity underlined by a grotesque grimace. “He attacked me first.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “After you had followed him everywhere. That’s very indecent behavior, Harry, and I don’t allow this kind of behavior in my school. Understood?”
“Yes, Professor.” Potter ground his teeth, his eyes locking to Draco’s.
Draco raised his chin. At least for once the crazy old man knew what fairness was.
“Your detention will take place in the Astronomy Tower. Our dear Professor Trelawney has had a certain disagreement with the owls.” The old man’s eyes twinkled when he winked. “I’m sure two strong young men will be able clear things out.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Cleaning a madwoman’s classroom on the orders of a madman; owl excrements, he could hardly wait for it. “When?”
“Saturday night. You may leave now.”
Draco shot Potter an angry glare again before he turned around and went for the dungeons. He could hear Potter argue with Dumbledore – that his only intent had been to protect Draco from the crazy students.
Hopping down the stairs, having to wait because they were moving more lately, Draco found the time to count. The grip on the banister tightened. Saturday would be the full moon.
*
The full moon shone its brightest since Draco could remember first seeing a full moon. He wanted to paint it pitch-black, but not the worst forbidden curse in the world would have been able to get in the moon’s way.
He sat in his usual chair in the Astronomy Tower. He’d arrived half an hour early and already started cleaning up somewhat, so as to speed things up and let him leave soon. It hadn’t taken long before he’d realized that the excrements were under a spell and whenever he had cleaned one area, the last one he’d cleaned was already dirty again. He suspected it to be Dumbledore’s work, but he couldn’t be sure and Dumbledore wasn’t an option to yell at. Not this year, anyway. Potter on the other hand? That one could be yelled at.
Draco awaited Potter’s arrival impatiently. He’d already decided on a few curse words. Sadly, the curses and spells he could think of wouldn’t come into play. He grumbled quietly. Dumbledore had taken their wands after dinner – for everyone to see, even. The students had been delighted.
A creak pushed him back to reality. Potter’s glasses glimmered in the moonlight. “No robes?” Draco asked.
Potter was wearing a T-Shirt much too big for him, and worn-out jeans. He looked like a beggar. “I’m not going to wear robes when dealing with shit.”
“Then I’d have to throw away my robes every time we meet.”
Potter groaned. He went over to the broadest window. “Full moon, huh.”
“You don’t believe in Trelawney’s prophecies, do you?”
“If Voldemort does, why shouldn’t I?”
Draco swallowed hard and averted his eyes. Then, he laughed. “Trelawney, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord… you – you’re all loons.” He pushed himself out of the chair.
Potter shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Oh? Where’s your spirit, Potter? Left it with the Weasley girl?”
“Her name is Ginny.” Potter turned around. The moonlight rendered his silhouette, mirroring it on the floor. The light was blue, cold like a poisoned sea. “Hey. ‘Nothing is well’. Why did you say that the other day?”
Draco stopped. “Because it’s the way it is.” He picked one of the toothbrushes up that Trelawney had left for them to work with. “Just angry nonsense. Forget about it.”
Potter crossed his arms. “I won’t.”
“Fine, then don’t.” The owl’s waste plopped off the walls. “Not like I can change a maniac’s mind.”
“Are you talking about me now or about Voldemort?”
Draco cringed again. Potter’s hand closed around his wrist. Draco chewed on his lip, still split from their fight. “To me, you’re interchangeable.”
“Because of your parents.”
He inhaled sharply and drew away. Potter wouldn’t let go. “It’s none of your business, Potter.”
“When this war is over, you’ll be okay, too.”
“No. No, we won’t. No matter which side wins, we’ll have been one the wrong one because we have disappointed the Dark Lord and fought against you. It doesn’t matter who orders the Dementor to kiss you, the result will be the same.”
An arm wound around his waist and Potter’s stomach was muscled and warm against his. Potter’s lips were warm. Potter licked at Draco’s bottom lip. Draco opened his mouth and tasted… the snitch. Cold metal, the joy and exhilaration of having caught it, of winning the match. The wind smashing his hair into his skull, and the whole world expanding, opening all its doors as the wind cuts his skin without damage.
Potter exhaled shakily. “No Dementor will kiss you.”
Draco swallowed. “Couldn’t be worse than this.” In all honesty, nothing could be better than this, he thought. Pansy was a good kisser, Blaise was an excellent kisser, but Potter was, well, a special case, Draco figured. Draco let Potter kiss him again; let the embrace tighten; let his robes fall.
“I’ve watched you,” Potter said, leading the way, gently pushing Draco back until his knees gave way and he hit the soft carpet.
“I noticed.”
Potter shook his head. He was hovering above Draco, gaze clear like the moon’s shine. “No, even before. I saw you getting thinner, whiter. I saw the Slytherins treating you like an outcast. I heard you talking to Myrtle.”
Draco’s eyes widened. Potter had heard him crying. His heart sunk and if Potter’s weight wouldn’t have held him down, pressed into the floor, he’d have fled.
“I’m sorry.” The words were barely above a whisper, but Draco had listened. Potter’s hands caressed his cheeks, and with the way Potter was looking at him Draco felt relief for the first time in a good while. Someone knew about his pain, and had shouldered part of it while Draco hadn’t been aware of it.
Draco closed his eyes. “Why did you kiss me?”
Potter snorted. “To prepare you for the Dementor’s kiss? Should be immune to that now. Can’t be worse, right?”
When Draco opened his eyes, he could see Potter smiling without smugness.
“Because I wanted to,” Potter said.
“Oh.” Draco cast his eyes down. The collar of Potter’s shirt was torn and revealing more of his neck. Tentatively, Draco pressed his lips into the skin. A muscle contracted underneath, and Draco felt Potter’s heart beat. Potter hummed and his breath tickled Draco’s ear. Adrenaline shot through him.
“Some prophecies should better be left unfulfilled,” Potter said, “because I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to see anyone die again, even if it’s Voldemort.”
Draco shuddered.
“But… I guess there are other prophecies.”
His body’s response was, well, quite obvious, and quite demanding. “If… one is fulfilled, maybe the other one doesn’t have to be.”
“It’s worth a try?”
Potter’s warm hands shoved his shirt over his head. Draco did the same for Potter. He wrapped his arms around Potter waist. The difference to his previous tries, and the assault, was clear as the sky, and he sighed to the realization why neither Blaise nor Pansy could have worked for him.
“It is,” Draco said.
Excitement and nervous curiosity hindered the act of undressing, but eventually they lay on the carpet naked and sweating. They should’ve been cold, but Draco had never felt hotter. His veins were bursting with boiling blood. He spread his legs for Potter to settle in-between, and it was a conscious decision to give him permission to do so. Surely his arousal made the decision easier, but Draco didn’t regret giving in to his body’s demands then.
“I’ve never done this before,” Potter said, a crooked smile on his lips.
“Can’t be worse than a Dementor’s kiss,” Draco said and lifted his hips. Potter’s cock rubbed over his, and Draco heard Potter’s moan through his own. “Please.”
It wasn’t so much pain as it was too much stretching, like sore muscles burning with every move. When Potter stopped going in further, Draco put a hand on Potter’s back and urged him on. Tiny sparks of pleasure, like the pleasure when flying on a broom. Needles made of wind couldn’t ever hurt enough to rule out the magnificent feeling of flying.
And neither could the slight burning whenever Potter thrust forward rule out what made Draco’s cock swell and leak, the warmth of a different sort, not sharp but blunt and expanding in his crotch till he was filled to brim and bursting.
Draco cried out. His cum spurted out, thick lines glued to Potter’s stomach. Potter came, too, not long after him. Slick wetness trickled over Draco’s thighs as Potter pulled out.
Potter covered their bodies with Draco’s robes. One arm held Draco close, the other petted his hair. The sweat had released it into the blond curls Draco had so despised since his childhood. Potter seemed to favor them as he was playing with them when Draco’s eyelids drooped, and it was the last Draco could remember before falling asleep.
*
Luna “Loony” Lovegood had never seemed quite as alert as now. Her hug was crushing his ribs. Pansy had been a moment too late, and when she was ready to get between Lovegood and Draco, the hug was already finished.
Draco blinked. The whole Great Hall’s attention was firmly set on him.
“I won! I won!” Lovegood clapped her hands together.
It dawned on him, finally. “The bet.”
She nodded. Her smile was bright. “I knew you two would find each other.”
“That’s a nice euphemism,” Blaise said. His grin showed very bright teeth.
Behind Lovegood, Gryffindor colors appeared. Glasses and a scar. Draco blushed and pursed his lips. “You told her?”
“No. Peeves saw you,” Goyle explained.
“Oh dear God no…” Draco planted a hand over his face.
Potter cleared his throat. “Luna was the only one who placed a bet on, uh. It happening with consent.”
“Aha.” Draco rolled his eyes and pushed Pansy, Goyle and Crabbe out of his way. He had to get out of the Great Hall. Maybe out of school.
He wasn’t surprised when Potter followed him onto the school grounds. “Go away,” Draco said.
“No.”
Draco turned around. “The irony. Luna – the moon.”
“Yeah.” Potter reached out. Draco watched Potter’s hand extend and settle on his shoulder. When he didn’t move away, Potter resumed talking. “Ironic, isn’t it.”
“What now?”
Potter’s mouth twitched a few times before he actually spoke. “I don’t want to wait for the next full moon to kiss you again, Draco.”
Not what he’d expected him to say. Draco watched in silence as Potter drew him closer. Over Potter’s shoulder he could see students gathering on the stairs of the main entrance. “It’s not as if you ever followed the rules, Potter.” Draco sighed and raised his brows expectantly.
Potter flashed him a smile. “Harry,” he said and leaned in for a kiss.
Author:
les_lennePrompt: #159
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: There are some prophecies which are better left unfulfilled...
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to JKR.
Warning(s): het, sex, language
Word Count: ~11.000
Author's Notes: I do hope you will be able to enjoy this story at least in parts. And I’m immensely grateful for my beta who is a lovely, fun person that deserves tons of cake. ♥
mod note: My apologies for the lack of fest posts yesterday. Something came up in RL and I didn't have time to do it. - a.
The sun shone perfectly bright upon him. Even his lips, usually the coldest part of his face thanks to his constant nibbling on them, were warmed by Mother Nature. Naturally, Draco began to doze off.
Trelawney, the old madwoman, was blabbering away in her strangest of voices and before sleep enveloped him fully, Draco took the chance to wonder how one person could possess such a wide range of tone. He sneezed quietly, and one blond string of hair fell into his vision. Then he let his droopy eyes close fully and bathed in the warmth of the sun while his head felt blissfully empty. No more worries about his father who, since returning from prison, had only eaten if forced by his mother who for her part had come to look equally ragged.
Even now, in this peaceful sleep, he could see their faces clearly. They weren’t looking like his parents anymore. His mother hadn’t come into contact with a single Dementor, and still, some days she looked emptier than his father.
Draco frowned in his dream and through the hazy feel of warmth pressing together he knew he was probably pouting in reality, too. He let his chin drop onto his chest and folded his hands, this time certain he had done it both in his dream and in the classroom, surrounded by more students that, if they hadn’t already, were about to fall asleep as well.
It was, of course, shocking him when something cold and sharp brushed his cheek. His eyes flew open, and had him staring into Trelawney’s goggles. He pushed himself up against the chair, thankfully cozy enough to let him sink into it and away from the wrinkled, bug-eyed lunatic.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Mister Malfoy!” she cooed, which Draco realized was a strange thing to do even with his brain lost somewhere between shock and drowsiness.
An elbow poked his ribs. He turned his head to find it had been Pansy, sitting next to him, who had done it. He was about to retort with a less physical but just as petty move when he realized something else.
All pupils were staring at him, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Some were grinning, a mad glistening in their eyes, others had sometime turned green and averted their gaze when he laid his eyes upon them. For a second he worried that someone had used him as the target of their disgusting little mockery again, like it had happened in the past weeks more than once – understandably, since most Slytherin kids got a bit of sympathy due to their parents being dead or locked up while he could still ‘enjoy’ them whenever he wanted. Therefore, he was about the only victim that made no one feel remorse for pulling prank after prank on them.
He didn’t want to touch his face, afraid of what he might find.
Trelawney inclined her head, coming yet closer, Draco sinking further into the chair. “Have you not listened, poor child?”
Draco didn’t agree on being called a poor child. However, setting his eyes on the most obnoxious trio of Gryffindors, he knew something was wrong. Potter’s gaze was void of emotion except utter misery, and his two friends didn’t look much better.
Draco turned his attention back to Trelawney who had started patting his shoulder. He slapped her hand away and furrowed his brows. “Another of your stupid prophecies?”
“Oh, Draco,” Pansy muttered next to him, her chuckle more audible the more she tried to hold it down.
“Let me tell you, poor child,” there it was again and Draco didn’t like it better when she had called him that the first time, but he kept his mouth shut firmly and listened when she went on, “it is you who the prophecy regards.”
“The next full moon, so far away, so close she’s yet, will bring an end to your…” Trelawney sniffed the air. “Celibacy.”
Out of the corners of his eyes he could see Pansy lifting her hand to stifle a full-blown bout of laughter.
“A young man, scarred so badly, so many ways, will take your virginal grace.”
Draco gawked at her. Breath caught in his throat as he tried to digest the information. He couldn’t prevent his face flushing, neither his hands gripping the armrests.
Beside him, Pansy was shaking. “I told you to loosen your chastity belt months, no, years ago!”
Crabbe looked positively befuddled. “So you’re still a virgin?” It seemed that, at long last, he had found something that he had beaten Draco at.
In this moment, Draco wasn’t feeling good enough to tell himself that intelligence mattered more than getting laid. There it was, the utter feeling of defeat, disgrace, embarrassment. And there was nothing at all he could do about it. He clenched his teeth.
“Well, Draco’s had his skivvies under lock and key for years,” Pansy said to Crabbe, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
So much for his self-proclaimed best friend. Draco shot her a hopefully fierce look, but she just laughed harder at him.
“Does that mean Potty is going to fuck him?” someone said.
The room became silent again. Everyone turned to look at Potter. Draco’s eyes widened. There were more than enough students with scars in the school! That was what he’d wanted to say, but, knowing better than that, he kept his rage to himself.
“Well,” Trelawney said, “the scar bearer, the taker of innocence, is in this room.” She wandered over to the table of Potter and his friends, but Potter was faster than her and pushed his chair back and away from her hand before she could swipe his bangs aside and show everyone the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
She seemed a little lost for a moment, then regained whatever she had of composure and walked back to her desk. She patted her ridiculously big crystal ball, more decoration than magical instrument, Draco mused – and hoped, bitterly – for his own sake. He watched her drawing circles on the ball’s surface, just to distract himself enough from all the people in the room.
They had started whispering to each other. Not so much whispering, more trying to make it sound like they were, but still talking loud enough for everyone to hear. Besides, with everyone talking, they had to raise their voices if they wanted to let their conversations live on sooner or later.
And it was sooner rather than later that the whole room was buzzing with arguments about the prophecy. He needn’t listen too closely to hear that not a single Slytherin was outright defending him, most were poking fun at him just as viciously as the Gryffindors in the room, but a few of them only gave curt answers which was a slight relief.
It was, of course, a mistake to avert his eyes and let the crystal ball be. What he found himself looking at instead was Potter, the worst thing to look at in all of the wizarding world right then. It got worse when Potter took himself out of the heated conversations the Weasley and the mudblood were having, and turned his head around.
They were staring directly at each other.
A rather nasty image popped into his head: Potter hovering above him, naked, then lowering himself on Draco who, to his dismay, was naked in this picture, too.
Potter, whatever he had thought of, turned bright red and then away, thankfully. Draco lacked the common sense to do so, and promptly people started talking about the first sign of a beginning infatuation.
He wanted to jump to his feet and storm out of the classroom badly, but risking detention with Trelawney and likely being given more details about what she wanted to add to the prophecy in hindsight made his stomach close in on itself. And he’d been hungry not half an hour ago, happily awaiting the meal after classes.
He cringed and crossed his arms which some Gryffindor girls took as him acting shy. They squeaked like half-crunched mice and Draco glared at them, cursing them to end up just that way. A futile wish; they burst out in high-pitched giggling.
The hands of the clock seemed not to move when he laid eyes upon them. He willed them to fast-forward, but unlike the hero of the school he had neither the power nor the training to make that happen. Draco groaned. He was getting a headache from all the frowning, but what other kind of face could he make?
Trelawney clapped her hands together. At first, the class didn’t notice her. She repeated the motion again, then again. Then she shrieked like a mandrake.
The class blinked, taken out of their naughty reverie. It was for the first time, but Draco did thank Trelawney profusely, even if it was only in his thoughts. No need to embarrass himself further. She had done enough of that already which was also a good excuse not to thank her audibly.
“When is the next full moon?”
It was with reluctance, but Draco saw the mudblood raising her hand.
“Yes, Miss Granger, please!” Trelawney smiled at her.
“Um, next month. The last one was yesterday.”
“Of course having a werewolf as a close friend helps knowing that, huh,” Pansy said.
Granger pursed her lips while Potter clenched his fists, just as the Weasley did.
Draco rolled his eyes, and then choked on his own spit when he heard a fellow Slytherin, McIan, speak up, “Maybe Potter will turn him into a werewolf!”
“Er.” Presumably all of the girls pulled a face at that. “Bestiality!” some murmured. Others looked creepily intrigued. Draco hugged himself tighter. He wanted nothing more than the chair to be eaten up by the floor. Poof! And away he’d be.
What his father would have to say to this!
If he could be coaxed out of bed, and made to listen to what the house elves had to say. Oh, how Draco remembered the day of Granger’s arrival on their doorstep, eager to let the house elves out of their sad state of work.
All of them had shaken their head. Now that all of their masters were in such a bad shape, they felt more needed than ever. Draco had been glad, not that he had said anything to them or anybody else. Glad that he could be sure that someone would take care of his parents while he was at school.
Where he didn’t want to be now anymore. Pansy patted his hair, and he even let her. That didn’t change things for better or worse. At least it gave him some sort of affection, however fake it might have been.
Trelawney swayed in the middle of the room. “Now go, my dear, poor children and procreate!”
For one long intake of breath, the room was gravely still. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. The roars of laughter from all sides made his ears ring, and they were already burning. His blond hair must be illuminated by it, shining orange, he mused, unhappy that his complexion gave his embarrassment way to express itself so openly to the world.
When he dared opening his eyes again most students had already left. Not all of them, though. Some took their time to stare at him, or at Potter. Few were brave enough to go to Potter and talk to him. None of them felt pathetic enough to talk to Draco. He was entirely too sure that those who would’ve done that were already busy planning how to get the most fun out of this. He braced himself for the next few minutes and told himself he could think of how to deal with this new situation after having eaten.
He sighed and pushed himself up. Though he wanted nothing more than to be alone, he smiled just a wee bit when he noticed Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and even Blaise were not only following him, but hiding him in a circle of leftover Slytherin pride.
*
He’d had a bad feeling all the way down to the dungeons, so he was hardly surprised about the greeting he got from his fellow Slytherins when he entered the common room. Greeting was too nice a word for the presentation of disgust and smugness they were giving. A small group of them kept to themselves. At the moment, Draco didn’t want to know what they were talking about. If they were scheming against him he should have been interested, and that was probably what they were talking about, but he didn’t feel like it. Dinner had completely drained his energies, what with Potter’s Weasley comrades yelling at him all through the Great Hall.
Crabbe and Goyle pushed two first-years out of the way. Pansy poked Draco in the ribs. He turned around and blinked when she pressed her lips to his. “Sleep tight,” she murmured and took the stairs to the left, where the girls’ dorms were located.
Draco rolled his eyes. As if a display of affection would make anything about this any better. He’d been friends with Pansy since she’d learned to walk; first thing he’d seen of her had been panties with a pink snake pattern when she had fallen over him. A kiss in the common room wouldn’t prevent the other students from harassing him.
Blaise led the way to Draco’s bedroom. Crabbe and Goyle said goodnight when they passed their bedroom. Somehow, Draco felt at the same time less agitated and more so, being alone with Blaise. He was undoubtedly the guy in Slytherin who had gotten around the most and somehow, with the problem at hand, Draco didn’t feel proud of having saved himself up for marriage any longer.
The little golden snake lock snapped open when Draco touched his wand to the snake’s eyes. He sighed and went inside after Blaise.
“They’re making bets, you know?” Blaise flopped down on his bed.
Draco went straight to changing into his pajamas. It had been a long day and he just wanted it to be over. “What kind of bets?”
“If you’ll succeed in losing your virginity before the full moon comes around, with who it will be with, et cetera, et cetera.”
Draco groaned and slipped into his satin pants. “Like there’s nothing more important to do.”
“I think you’re considered the second least sexy person in the whole school. Not because of your looks,” Blaise added when Draco shot him a dark look. “Because you’re such a bad person.”
“So I’ll just use a potion to look like Dumbledore and get laid.”
Blaise snickered and threw his pillow. Draco caught it in mid-air.
“I don’t want to get laid at all,” Draco murmured, more to himself, but audible enough that Blaise could pretend he had or hadn’t heard.
“That’s what I thought.”
On days like this, Draco was eternally grateful that his mother had once insisted he should have at least five pillows. Draco sank into his bed like into a cloud. He closed his eyes and snuck his hands underneath the top pillow, between two others. “Not my problem if the whole school’s losing their money to each other.”
“Yeah,” Blaise said and got up from his bed again to undress. By now Draco had gotten used to Blaise sleeping naked. At the beginning of their time as roommates, Draco had tried unsuccessfully to make him war something a little more modest. He’d given up after two months. Blaise had grown quite a lot over the summer – below. Draco blushed, not because of that thought, but because he wondered what Potter’s was like.
Thankfully, Blaise hadn’t noticed the ogling. He stretched on his mattress, his one lone pillow supporting his head. “You know, Draco, even if you’re the second least sexy person, you should be careful.”
“How come?”
“Some people placed the bets on themselves.”
Something he couldn’t quite grasp, cold and heavy, made his chest tighten. “So?”
“Just watch out, alright?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Okay.” Shouldn’t be too hard, Draco thought. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to slip him poison, or a love potion, just to win a stupid bet. Part of him surely could imagine, but it was a small one, and he wasn’t worried. In a month’s time, it would be over. The students would find something else to be obnoxious about and leave him alone.
“Night, Blaise.”
“Mmh,” was the only thing Draco heard in response, and he wasn’t even sure it had been directed at him. He turned around and stared at the wall. He felt cold.
*
“I’m sorry, Professor.” Of course he’d noticed. And of course he knew. Everyone knew. Draco felt like digging a hole and forever disappearing into it. Two obstacles prevented him from doing so: One, the floor in Professor Snape’s office was solid, a hundred years old stone, and second, he was dead tired. His magic had flickered on and off for the past two days and today, he hadn’t even been able to open his own door’s lock anymore. Falling asleep in Potions class had been even worse.
He hadn’t gotten detention for it, much to the Potter crews’ grief. Draco would have preferred detention over having to explain to the Professor why this had happened in the first place. Especially when the Professor didn’t want to wait any longer for an answer, and went into his head without asking for permission. Draco was a second too late, and probably couldn’t have prevented it anyway with his magic sizzling out like a dying flame. “Professor,” he hissed, his cheeks brightly lit.
“Potter,” Professor Snape said, maintaining a detached tone peppered with disgust. “Trelawney’s prophecies have hardly ever proven to be correct, Draco.”
“I’m aware of that, Professor,” he answered in all honesty. Hell, he didn’t expect this prophecy to come true, but his mind and body had, in the dark of the night, different ideas. So many of them that Draco had seriously begun questioning his own morals. What he dreamed of was simply… wrong. Disgusting, even. The only way to keep himself from it was staying awake.
Professor Snape sighed. Draco thought of an angry dog, but quickly dislodged the thought. Black’s Animagus was a dog and he had his doubts about the Professor liking dogs due to that fact. “You must not proceed to act like this in class, Draco.”
Draco nodded and bowed his head. “It’s not that easy, Professor.”
“I thought so, and have prepared a potion.” A small vial filled with a lilac liquid floated into the Professor’s hand. “The Finest Slumber.”
Draco took the vial and frowned. Professor Snape’s potions were always perfect, he wasn’t about to question that fact. Still… “I won’t dream, right?”
“You shouldn’t be able to dream if you take this potion an hour prior to going to bed.”
The muscles in his neck that had been tense the past days relaxed. “Thank you, Professor.”
“If you do happen to dream, then a different kind of magic is stronger than the potion. I doubt there is one on par, though.”
He didn’t mind the smugness. If the Professor was right, he’d get a wonderful night’s sleep and that was exactly what he needed. He’d go to bed early today, and thanks to the next day being Sunday, he’d sleep in. Everything was going to be fine. Splendid, even.
“You may leave now.”
Draco nodded and dropped the vial into school bag. “Good night, Professor.”
“Yes, Draco.”
*
Saliva trickled down his chin, two drops falling onto his chest and slowly gliding around his pert nipple. He heard a dark laugh from behind and something cold and wet brushed against his asshole. It was a knuckle, and it was poking in next thing he knew. Draco let his head fall back. When he looked up, two green eyes shimmered down at him. A wicked smile was on the lips of the man whose middle finger pushed inside his ass.
“Potter,” Draco gasped. “What the hell?” His voice sounded unnaturally high in his own ears. He didn’t want to know how it’d sound to Potter.
Potter licked his lips, then pursed them. “Draco, I thought we were beyond that.”
Beyond what?, Draco thought, but could only moan as Potter’s finger fucked him. It went in and out way too smoothly. This wasn’t the sex of a girl, it was his ass. It shouldn’t have been that easy. Couldn’t have been, right? But apparently it was.
Draco rolled his hips. Telling himself to stop didn’t help. He kept doing it, and his breaths came with a higher frequency soon.
“Call me Harry.”
“Like hell I will,” Draco said and bit his tongue because he was so close to calling just that name out. “Get your hands off of me.”
Potter whistled. “Is that a game, Draco?” He leaned down and nibbled on Draco’s ear. Draco shivered pleasantly, his cock leaking precum already. Potter smirked. “You know what I think?”
“That this is a fucking nightmare?”
“Well,” Potter said and chuckled, “the fucking is about right.” He bent his finger inside, then unfolded it again. “I think you want me.”
“No,” Draco all but wailed. He couldn’t even close his mouth anymore. Only breathing through his nose made him feel dizzy.
Potter licked the shell of his ear and Draco whimpered, his hips snapping forward and away from Potter’s fingers, though they followed promptly. “You want me to fuck you all night. You don’t want me to be gentle, not tonight. You need it hard and fast, but I’ll only give you hard because I want to hear you scream and beg.”
A shudder made loose strands of hair fall over Draco’s eyes. “Shut up, Potter.”
“And then, just when I know you’re about to cum, I’ll pull out and lean back. And you know what you’ll do? Tell me, come on.” Potter’s finger was by then rubbing all over his inner walls, and Draco’s cock twitched, desiring some much-needed attention Potter wasn’t about to give – oh God, he’d just thought about Potter’s hand… mouth… on his cock.
He needed to get off on this, and then away. Quick. Draco shut his eyes firmly. He didn’t want to see the stupid jerk grinning like a mad cat. “I will ride you. Sit,” Potter’s finger went out of his ass and left Draco yearning for their return, “sit on your prick and fuck myself on it.”
“Shit, Draco,” Potter whispered, breathing into his ear. “I need you. Now.”
When Potter pushed him, Draco readily splayed his fingers over the sheets and supported himself on knees and arms as if he’d do it for the thousandth times. His brain was pounding inside his skull.
Potter slid in, like getting back home, and Draco arched his back like a cat, mad like a hatter.
*
The sunlight shone upon his face, and burned his eyes when they shot wide open. He was lying on his stomach, and he was hard. Draco pushed one trembling hand down his pants, past the waistband and pulled himself off. The memory of his dream fresh in his mind, so fresh actually that he could feel a cock inside of him when there most certainly wasn’t one. Especially not Potter’s; hell, he was a goddamn virgin in every way, shape, and form possible. Still, the sensation was more than vivid.
Sticky semen splattered into his hand and he let out a sigh of relief. His hair was a mess, bangs tickling his nose. Draco sat up, panting heavily. He needed a shower. The clock on his nightstand told him that, by now, he wouldn’t get breakfast any longer, but also that the shower of the boys’ dorm would be vacant.
He shoved the blanket away and hopped out of bed – and then he shrieked.
“My,” Pansy said, clasping her hands over her ears. Her cheeks were a distinct shade of red, clashing with her green shirt. “You do scream like a little girl, Draco.”
“How long’ve you been here, Pansy?!”
“Oh, about the time when you started humping your mattress. Had a nice dream?”
Instead of waking him up or leaving, she had watched him. Not very surprising, and Draco put down a mental note to write his mother that he needed a more powerful lock than the one he was currently using. “I’ll never ask for any of Professor Snape’s potions ever again,” he said through gritted teeth.
Pansy shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve got you some breakfast.”
His chest warmed up considerably, easing away the shock he’d lived through waking from that unbelievable nightmare. “Thanks,” he said, his lips curling up for a small smile.
She waved her wand and a plate full of good stuff appeared on Draco’s nightstand. He pulled it onto his lap and licked the honey off his fingers as drops of it ran over his thumb. Pansy sat down on the far end of the bed, crossing her legs. Draco looked up at her briefly and felt his cheeks flush again. There’s no reason to act all embarrassed, he told himself. If he kept his cool, the situation would feel more normal in a timely fashion.
“So, got a plan?” she asked.
The honey tasted sweet on his tongue and was heavy on his lips. Sticky, warm – Draco remembered his dream and cursed quietly. He cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll have to get laid.”
The grin on Pansy’s face was unbearable. Instead of watching her a moment longer, Draco averted his eyes and gulped down a good amount of the warm milk she had brought him. She loved these dramatic pauses, and right then she was doing a fantastic job. Or so she probably thought, Draco mused.
Eventually, the pause was over. “Any… uh. Ideas? You know, losing your virginity is a big thing. At least for guys like you.”
“Guys like me,” he parroted, swiping his mouth as milk spilled over his chin.
“Pureblood guys with a name like yours attached. The Malfoys. Come on, your parents will probably insist you marry the girl. And chop someone’s head off if it’s Potter.”
“Wouldn’t be too bad in Potter’s case. The head getting chopped,” he added when Pansy pursed her lips and raised a brow. “It’s not going to be with a boy.”
“So who is the lucky girl?”
Not like he had a real choice. Most girls avoided him like the plague. Although the whole school was involved with the bet now, so there probably were some who would do it just to win and get the money. He wasn’t fond of the idea to have sex with a person like that. Considering that Pansy was right, even less so. His parents would force him to marry that girl, and if she wouldn’t agree to it, all hell would break loose. Life was already bad enough without this sort of problem.
Draco chewed on his lips.
“Me?” Pansy said. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Thank you for not insulting me with this most sensitive way of responding.”
Pansy pulled the blanket over her legs, stretching them out. Cold toes between his, still hot from sleep and dreams. He shivered and put the empty plate back on the nightstand. The honey felt like glue inside his stomach, weighing him down.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just… we’ve known each other for so,” she laughed, “so long. And you don’t practically propose to a girl who has just seen you come in your sleep while thinking about a boy.” Her left foot pressed into his crotch.
Draco gasped and pressed his lips together, accidentally biting down. Droplets of blood were drawn from the ripped skin. The coldness of her toes shouldn’t have turned him on, but he’d still been half-hard when he’d woken up. Now his cock was fully erect.
Her big toe circled the tip and through only a thin layer of fabric, too. “It’s not a proposal.”
“We’ve just talked about your parents and how they’d set up a marriage if you had sex with a girl.”
“They don’t need to know.”
Pansy smirked and dove underneath the blanket, popping up between his legs, pushing herself up on her hands so her face was inches apart from his. Now or never, Draco thought, and leaned forward. He’d never kissed anyone, not with the intent of sleeping with them. Her lips were soft and moist. His were probably scratching her.
He leaned back against the wall. “They won’t know.”
“I’m all yours,” she said. From close up, he could see her sharp vampire-like teeth and her smile looked ten times as vicious. Still, he trusted her more than any other girl in the school. Which was pathetic. Pansy was widely known as one of the most manipulative, back-stabbing girls ever born. His mother had always warned him of her, and she’d been right back then. He’d been too innocent and man, getting sand thrown into his eyes had hurt. Again and again, until his father had yelled at him and locked him up so that next time, he’d be the one blinding Pansy temporarily, not the other way around.
“Hey!” Her fist connected to his ribcage.
Draco winced.
“If you want sex, maybe you shouldn’t be all staring at walls. Look at me.”
He did, and all he could see was Pansy, not even reaching the desk of his father which she was trying to climb as she had seen an artifact glimmer in the moonlight. And he could see himself, standing in the middle of his father’s study, tears in his eyes because he was afraid of the trouble Pansy was getting them into.
She grabbed his wrists and put his hands over her breasts. Sometime during his walk through childhood, she had apparently gotten her shirt off. Now she was watching him expectantly.
*
He’d never had anything to do with bras before. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen one, but it was the first time someone expected him to open the thing. For a while, though, he was simply mesmerized by the sight of Pansy’s plump breasts being held up by a net of white lace. It was quite the sight, and went straight to his cock. His pants bulged under Pansy’s hands. She was trying to get them down.
“Let me,” he whispered and raised his hips. Finally her efforts paid off.
Then she seemed to decide that letting him take care of the bra would take too long and undid it on her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down on top of her.
Her feet had been cold, but the rest of her body was well heated. Draco rubbed his crotch into her skirt. She simply lifted it and hooked her fingers under her panties to pull them down enough so that he could comfortably lie between her legs with all the access he needed.
“Give me your hand, Draco.” Even though she had just asked, her hand was already leading his.
‘Wet,’ was all he could think. Then his mind added ‘wobbly’ to it and he pulled a face, glad that she wouldn’t be able to see him grimacing because she was hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
His fingers slid between the folds of skin and Pansy made strange noises, high and short of breath. It was too easy to sink into her body and he almost didn’t notice his finger was in – only when he was enclosed, two slick walls around him, did he realize that he was, in fact, fingering a girl.
Draco shuddered, and in turn, Pansy dug her nails into the back of his hand.
“Press… your finger…”
“Where?” He was glad to be born a boy. At least a cock was visible. Nothing to miss there, the direction pretty obvious. “How?”
“Towards my stomach, okay?”
He crooked his finger and rubbed the wall that pointed to her bellybutton. She moaned his name. Draco stopped the motion and felt cold sweat trickle down his temples. What the hell was he doing!?
Not like it could be stopped now. He swallowed hard. “Does that feel good?”
“Am I getting wetter?”
His palm, cupping her crotch, was covered with whatever was coming out of her. He nodded. “You, uhm, are.”
“Then rest assured it’s fucking amazing.” She slapped the back of his head with her other hand. “So keep it up.”
He chuckled, and some of the tension went away. This was just like playing, and besides, it was making sure he wouldn’t lose his virginity to someone crazy, or worse, Potter, just because a madwoman had decided she was in the mood to make his life even more of a living hell than it had already been.
Potter. The hero. The good man. Making everyone’s future brighter, except Draco’s, which was pitch-black.
And Pansy’s? Wasn’t much better either. It would certainly not get any better for her doing this. That she had agreed so willingly either meant she was hopelessly optimistic or hopelessly pessimistic and trying to get the most out of life before they got kicked into kissing Dementors and kissing their lives goodbye.
“Draco?”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“You kinda deflated just now.”
“Deflated?”
Oh.
Draco, when he was no longer caught by surprise, pulled his fingers out of her and rolled off. He really wasn’t hard anymore. He sat up and stared down at himself. Soft, and definitely not in the mood to get back up anytime soon. Not with Pansy in the same area. “Fuck.”
“Rather not,” Pansy muttered. “At least get me off?”
“How about no?” He used the blanket to clean his fingers off and hopped out of bed. “You’re the worst.”
“Fine.” She gathered her clothes and somehow managed to get dressed in less than a minute. She was still flushed and her frown was looking more threatening than her evil grin had.
Draco shrunk into his closet, searching for today’s outfit. Guilt wasn’t really called for, was it? If his body said no, his mind could be logical as all hell. So sleeping with Pansy hadn’t been the right answer to his problems. Somehow, he was relieved. Trying to hide his relief was crucial for his further strategy – which he hadn’t thought of yet. Angering Pansy was always a bad idea though.
“You should try it with a boy, Draco. Just saying. I always had an inkling that you were gay, but that just settles it.”
He decided not to argue. “And who would you recommend?”
“Crabbe or Goyle…”
Draco’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Come on, they’d do anything for you.”
“I said no, Pansy.” He was desperate, but he was still a Malfoy. He had some dignity left over, no matter how hard everyone was trying to crush him to the bones.
She put her hands on her hips. “That just leaves us with Blaise. He’s attractive, he’s definitely got enough experience, and your parents wouldn’t even be that angry I guess. Thinking you’re just two boys fooling around.”
“Well,” Draco began, eyes scooping up to look at a corner of the ceiling. Blaise was attractive, at least. “Isn’t he straight?”
“Straight as – well, as straight as can be, huh. You could always use Polyjuice, though.”
Draco pulled a face. “I’m not going to have sex as a girl.” Pansy had told him getting fingered felt good, but he really wasn’t sure if he could stand the novelty of unknown genitalia added to the novelty of having sex for the very first time. It all seemed a bit much. A new body, and a new experience? No, he could definitely only stand so much.
“Then good luck at getting him into it.”
*
Blaise had just dropped into bed like a dead man. He stretched, his nude chest rising, the muscles of his stomach pulling taut. Draco watched, intrigued and a little nervous. Another day had passed with no less than twenty people trying to get into his pants. Most of them had either had warts, and some of them had even been mudbloods. Draco hardly had anything to lose. Yet starting this conversation was strangely intimidating.
Probably because Blaise had just snogged one of the younger Slytherin girls in the common room and the girl had practically fallen unconscious in his arms, her eyes glistening with infatuation as if he had poisoned her with a love potion; well, at least that example had proven he liked blonds. If Blaise would be willing to have a blond without breasts was up to discussion. And that discussion was to be happening now.
Draco cleared his throat and hugged his pillow. He tried to clear his face of any expressions. Fortunately, his cheeks didn’t heat up. “I have to talk to you.”
The suddenness with which Blaise got up made Draco jerk. He blinked, and bit his lip, casting his eyes down. Damn, now his nervousness was more than obvious. He could see Blaise cock an eyebrow, then incline his head. “Yes, Draco?”
He shivered at the mention of his name. Maybe Blaise already suspected what the topic would be and was up to taunting him. Whatsoever, the full moon wasn’t waiting for him to come to terms with himself, nor to gather his courage in a timely fashion. “Pansy and I…”
“Ah. So how was it?” Blaise grinned. “She’s pretty pushy, isn’t she?”
His cheeks burned. “Yes, but we didn’t.”
Blaise frowned. “You didn’t.”
“I couldn’t,” he said, voice embarrassingly tiny. He glanced over at Blaise.
“And now you want the aid of the fantastic Blaise?”
“Sort of,” he said and looked him in the eye. “She suggested trying it with a boy.” It wasn’t much needed to imagine a clockwork turning behind Blaise’s forehead until he had finally worked it out.
He laughed. “You want to have sex with me?”
“Shut up,” Draco hissed. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Oh, I feel so appreciated.” He was still chuckling. The scary part was how he got up, all naked, and came over. Blaise came to a halt in front of Draco’s bed and looked down on him.
Draco knew he was shivering, but he refrained from leaning back. “So?”
Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not going to Polyjuice into the hottest girl in town, I guess. Nor your mother.”
“Fuck you.” He cringed; had Blaise ever thought of sleeping with his mother?
“Alright.”
Draco snorted. “Alright?”
Blaise leaned forward and closed the space between them. His lips were soft and a little plump, and his kiss was much more pliant than Pansy’s. Draco gripped the pillow tighter, his fingers curling into the satin. He was already lying down when he realized that Blaise had climbed on top of him, and that Blaise was undressing him.
Blaise’s tongue tasted like dark chocolate, bitter, and also salty, probably because of today’s dinner. Draco complied when Blaise took a hold of the pillow and pushed it under his bare bottom, though he wasn’t quite sure when his bottom had been bared.
With nothing to hold onto any longer, Draco felt like a fool. He pressed his hands, little shaky fists, into his chest.
Blaise pulled at his wrists. “Most girls like to wrap their arms around their lover’s shoulders.”
“’m not a girl,” Draco murmured, already caught in the follow-up kiss, more tongue than before, less air filling his lungs for a second. Enough to sneak his arms around Blaise’s waist and spread his fingers over the protruding shoulder blades.
“No, you’re not.”
Blaise not only knew that, Draco guessed. He would also be able to feel it by now. Draco certainly could feel his erection slide against Blaise’s. And hell if it didn’t feel amazing. Blaise’s hands were on his hips, and Blaise’s tongue was in his mouth, and it wasn’t so different from what he had shared with Pansy, but until now, he hadn’t deflated. His mind hadn’t wandered either, though he had known Blaise for about the same amount of years as Pansy.
He didn’t want to think about the gay issue; not that it’d have changed anything about having to marry to let his family’s name live on.
Suddenly, Blaise’s hands were wandering, and it tickled when he brushed the inside of Draco’s thighs, so he tried to get away from it by spreading his legs. Just what Blaise had had in mind, apparently, because he settled down in-between.
Something was… off, but Draco couldn’t yet put his finger on it.
Then Blaise’s fingertip was pressing into him and Draco scratched him.
“Ouch. Is that how dragons do it?”
“Stop that.”
“Draco, I’m pretty sure Trelawney wasn’t talking about petting.”
When he had planned to do it with Pansy, he had been set on the penetrative part. Sure. “The old hag has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Blaise pushed his finger deeper inside, and Draco thought of a dancing worm. A much too big worm. He bit into his cheeks. It was definitely bearable, but this wasn’t what he wanted. Or was it? He wasn’t sure, but at the same time, it felt awfully wrong.
“Draco, just relax. I’m sure you’ll like it. I’m a very careful partner.”
The kiss he received was sweeter than the ones they’d exchanged before, and Draco had thought of them as quite sweet already. He almost forgot about the uneasiness, but it came back crashing like a tidal wave too soon. “If you really are, then stop it.”
The worm stopped dancing. “I’m not going to let you do me. I’m just not that type of guy.”
Draco closed his eyes and sighed. The pressure inside got better; Blaise had pulled out. “I’m not going to apologize.”
“No, you’re not that type of guy,” Blaise agreed and, to Draco’s surprise, kissed him again. And the kiss wasn’t any less sweet. “We can still get each other off, right?”
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked up. “Sure.” Maybe, if he was lucky enough, jerking someone off and getting jerked off by that someone at the same time would be enough to satisfy the prophecy.
Him. Luck.
Who was he kidding?
*
The rest of the school didn’t know about him and Blaise, and though Draco was partially relieved to not hear anything about his two failed tries, the stalkers were getting more than simply annoying. At the beginning, they had only followed him around. Now some of them had started groping him. He’d never been so popular. He’d never been so despised either.
All mixed-up, it was the worst reputation ever.
This had been a lucky day so far. The halls he chose to wander were empty, and no one had managed to sneak up on him either. With his potions book in hand, Draco watched the Quidditch training of the Ravenclaw house from one of the high window. Their team was astonishingly bad this year, but playing Quidditch had degenerated into trying to kill your enemy over the past months anyway. Especially Seekers ended up with a lot of bruises, broken bones, and a concussion.
He dreaded the date of the next Slytherin Quidditch training. At least only balls could touch him up in the air, and not some obnoxious student trying to win a bit of money.
“Hey, Mall-o-Foy,” a voice called.
Draco inhaled deeply and turned around. He didn’t know the boy who was approaching him, but he was wearing a yellow scarf so it was most likely a Hufflepuff or, and he wasn’t sure if that would be worse, a student of another house disguising himself willingly as a Hufflepuff. What an utter disgrace.
Draco scrunched his nose. “Malfoy, to be precise.”
“Whatever.” The boy stood before him, high as the Astronomy Tower. Draco hated people looming over him, but at least this person had a nose and normal-colored brown eyes. The arrogant expression was quite similar to the Dark Lord’s though.
Draco shrunk into the windowsill. “What do you want?”
“You know.” The boy shrugged and grabbed Draco’s ass.
Draco froze. “How much are you going to win if it happens today? You’ll have to share with a few other students, you know. It’s not worth the trouble.”
“Oh, it definitely is because I added myself into the bet, you know? The money will be all mine.”
He’d expected people to have sick ideas, but to actually go through with them was another story. And someone wearing Hufflepuff colors on top of that. Draco cringed, in- and outwardly. The boy didn’t seem to mind. He grinned and undid his tie, tossing it on the floor.
Draco watched as the piece of cloth fell, horrified to feel a raw tongue lick his skin. Stop freezing, he told himself, but that didn’t work. He stood there, immobile with fear. The halls were empty. No steps could be heard. Or maybe it seemed to be so quiet because the only thing he could very audibly hear was the ragged breathing of the guy feeling him up. His breath smelled, too, of cigars, strangely, which reminded Draco of his father.
Draco shut his eyes and gulped as hands wandered over his sides. “Release me from that stupid spell,” he ground out.
“Nope, not gonna happen,” the boy retorted and pulled Draco’s robes up.
The air was fresh with no second shield of protection.
“Expelliarmus!”
The Hufflepuff boy crashed into the wall opposite of Draco. He blinked and got to his feet staggering. Someone in red and gold, glittering with courage, suddenly stood in front of him.
Draco watched the scene, inhaling like a drunken sailor, and exhaling like electrocuted chicken. The Hufflepuff fled, and the Gryffindor turned around.
“Potter,” Draco hissed, strength returning in the blink of an eye. At least the strength to open his mouth. His face flushed when Potter walked over and yanked his robes down.
Draco crossed his arms over his chest and tried sinking into the solid wall behind him. “I don’t need your help.”
“Malfoy, cut it out.” Potter’s eyes were wide and wild. “He could have raped you! He would have… god damnit.” He rubbed his forehead in what seemed to be exasperation and disbelief.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Things like that happen, Potty.”
“I know that.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to thank you. If you’d let him do it, I’d be spared the disgrace of fearing you might do it.”
“I would never rape you.”
Draco cackled. “But someone else?”
Potter, surprisingly, started blushing. “No, of course not,” he stammered.
“Good for you.”
*
Potter had not said anyone. He’d explicitly used ‘you’. And Draco couldn’t help wondering about that when he slowly went down to the dungeons, knees still weak.
Just a few more days, he told himself before falling asleep.
*
He woke to the smell of honey and cinnamon, and to a warm hand on his bare belly. Draco felt his lips curling up in a smile even before he opened his eyes and looked up at the man whose lap was his pillow.
Potter’s scar was half-hidden behind his bangs, droplets of sweat rendering his hair somewhat wet. Draco reached out, and when his hand found its place in Potter’s neck, Potter had already bowed his head to kiss him.
His tongue tasted like the air smelled. Draco sighed happily and looked around. They were lying in an open field, a river nearby, from the sounds of it.
“You’re safe here,” Potter said.
Draco looked back up at him. “Mmh?” He didn’t understand. It was so beautiful. So calm. He’d never felt so serene before. Nothing bad had ever happened, nor would ever happen to him.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
His throat clogged up with the memories of pain.
Potter pulled him up and into his arms. Potter’s hands were soft and warm, and it didn’t bother Draco that they were both naked, nor that Potter was stroking the small of his back, and kissing him tenderly – right in the open, where everyone walking by could see them, by chance.
But even if that happened, nothing bad would come from it.
“Mother and Father…”
“I’ll keep them safe, too. All is well.”
Draco sobbed.
Sobbed into the darkness; solid darkness, and a second later he realized that it wasn’t Potter’s but Blaise’s shoulder he was leaning onto.
*
One or two years earlier, and he’d have felt special for having a stalker. Now it turned him into a panicky mess. He didn’t quite suspect it to be the Hufflepuff guy. His grudges had already been satisfied when he’d told the whole Great Hall of the submissive little Draco, so scared of sex that he couldn’t even defend himself from a predator.
Trying to argue that the guy had used a spell on him was of no use. The Great Hall wasn’t interested in his part of the story. When Draco had risked a glance at Potter, though, he’d been surprised to see him glaring at the Hufflepuff, munching on his breakfast so hard that he bit his tongue and pulled a face ten seconds later.
Draco had thankfully gotten rid of Blaise’s motherly feelings soon enough. His breakdown had apparently triggered Blaise’s need to be a big brother of some sort. The prospect of fucking the girl with the best grades had turned him back into what he’d always been, and had freed Draco from one stalker.
Now there was only one person left who was following him around. Unfortunately one that hid pretty well in the shadows. His watchful gaze was palpable though, and sometimes Draco could feel someone’s hands on his hips when he was about to stumble, after someone had kicked him in the shins, but whenever he turned around, there was no one to be seen except the one who had tried to make him topple over, looking confused and angry before storming away.
Sitting at the Slytherin table, Pansy to his left, and no one to his right, Draco was relieved to be spared the unwelcome attention for once in what already felt like an eternity. He could easily deal with the pranks of the Slytherins, but he refused to deal with an invisible friend. For the most part, he ate in silence, yet he groaned upon realizing that, to his right, bread crumbs were somehow disappearing.
When Draco left the Great Hall that evening, he knew he was being followed again, and that it was time to act.
*
It wasn’t the best plan, but it was a plan. Draco crouched behind one of the rare statues that never moved and listened intently. He could hear tentative steps. Whoever had followed him had obviously lost sight of him. Draco grinned and waited till the sounds grew louder. Eventually he could hear someone breathing quietly.
Now or never.
Draco lunged forward, someone yelled, and Draco got a hold of silky fabric. He pulled, and his fan was revealed. Draco gasped.
“What the hell, Potter!?”
“Let me explain!” He coughed. “And get off my chest.”
Draco pursed his lips and got up.
Potter stared at him and eventually got to his feet, too. “Thanks for helping me up.”
“You’re welcome. What’s wrong with you? I mean, beside the obvious.”
Potter cleared his throat and had the dignity to straighten his robes. “After that… incident… I thought it was good idea to keep an eye on you, just in case.”
“How Gryffindor of you.” Draco tapped his foot. “You haven’t kept an eye on me though. It was both eyes and the rest of your idiotic body.”
“I helped you!”
“I don’t want your help!”
Potter cocked his head. “Don’t want it, but you definitely need it.”
“I. What. No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” Potter was coming closer, inch by inch.
Draco was retreating, inch by inch. He cursed every brick in the world when his back hit the wall. “Considering the prophecy pertaining us, that sounds a lot naughtier than intended, Potter.”
Potter’s face was glowing in the dark. “Shut up.”
He’d never quite felt like this before. Anger, rage, boiling inside of him, gathering in his hands. And then it was already too late. His fist connected with Potter’s nose; then Potter’s fist connected with his stomach. Draco slid to the floor and gave Potter a push, sending him down as well.
He rubbed his face on his sleeve and frowned. There was blood. He hissed. “Nothing is well, you freak.”
Potter blinked and shook his head. “Wha-?”
Draco’s fist hammered into Potter’s head, chest, neck, shoulders, arms, sides. “Nothing is well. Nothing!”
Then Potter shoved him hard.
His head hit the statue he’d used as a hideout. He groaned, feeling like needles were piercing his brain.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Potter’s voice sounded strange. Multi-layered, high-pitched and dark at the same time. His image was blurred, too.
“Harry!” A coarse voice called, either from a sore or from an old throat.
Draco raised his head and looked around, disoriented for a second. Then colorful robes came into sight, and Draco sighed. On the bright side, it was none of Potter’s muggle or Weasley friends who’d found them. Dumbledore’s tender, bemused gaze which he laid upon them both was annoying, but would at least not lead to shouting.
The old man pulled him to his feet. Potter got up on his own. Draco glared at Potter and yanked his arm out of Dumbledore’s spider fingers. “One hundred points from Slytherin… again?”
“I doubt this would be a wise idea, young Malfoy,” Dumbledore said softly. “Your… kin might react badly to points lost because of your behavior.”
Draco licked his lips, tasting salt and iron on them. “So what,” he whispered. “Can’t get much worse, can it.”
Dumbledore inclined his head. “You might dislike my decision, but I’m certain it will lead to the best outcome.” Now Dumbledore’s eyes wandered away, onto Potter. “Detention. For both of you.”
“Professor!” Potter said, his indignity underlined by a grotesque grimace. “He attacked me first.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “After you had followed him everywhere. That’s very indecent behavior, Harry, and I don’t allow this kind of behavior in my school. Understood?”
“Yes, Professor.” Potter ground his teeth, his eyes locking to Draco’s.
Draco raised his chin. At least for once the crazy old man knew what fairness was.
“Your detention will take place in the Astronomy Tower. Our dear Professor Trelawney has had a certain disagreement with the owls.” The old man’s eyes twinkled when he winked. “I’m sure two strong young men will be able clear things out.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Cleaning a madwoman’s classroom on the orders of a madman; owl excrements, he could hardly wait for it. “When?”
“Saturday night. You may leave now.”
Draco shot Potter an angry glare again before he turned around and went for the dungeons. He could hear Potter argue with Dumbledore – that his only intent had been to protect Draco from the crazy students.
Hopping down the stairs, having to wait because they were moving more lately, Draco found the time to count. The grip on the banister tightened. Saturday would be the full moon.
*
The full moon shone its brightest since Draco could remember first seeing a full moon. He wanted to paint it pitch-black, but not the worst forbidden curse in the world would have been able to get in the moon’s way.
He sat in his usual chair in the Astronomy Tower. He’d arrived half an hour early and already started cleaning up somewhat, so as to speed things up and let him leave soon. It hadn’t taken long before he’d realized that the excrements were under a spell and whenever he had cleaned one area, the last one he’d cleaned was already dirty again. He suspected it to be Dumbledore’s work, but he couldn’t be sure and Dumbledore wasn’t an option to yell at. Not this year, anyway. Potter on the other hand? That one could be yelled at.
Draco awaited Potter’s arrival impatiently. He’d already decided on a few curse words. Sadly, the curses and spells he could think of wouldn’t come into play. He grumbled quietly. Dumbledore had taken their wands after dinner – for everyone to see, even. The students had been delighted.
A creak pushed him back to reality. Potter’s glasses glimmered in the moonlight. “No robes?” Draco asked.
Potter was wearing a T-Shirt much too big for him, and worn-out jeans. He looked like a beggar. “I’m not going to wear robes when dealing with shit.”
“Then I’d have to throw away my robes every time we meet.”
Potter groaned. He went over to the broadest window. “Full moon, huh.”
“You don’t believe in Trelawney’s prophecies, do you?”
“If Voldemort does, why shouldn’t I?”
Draco swallowed hard and averted his eyes. Then, he laughed. “Trelawney, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord… you – you’re all loons.” He pushed himself out of the chair.
Potter shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Oh? Where’s your spirit, Potter? Left it with the Weasley girl?”
“Her name is Ginny.” Potter turned around. The moonlight rendered his silhouette, mirroring it on the floor. The light was blue, cold like a poisoned sea. “Hey. ‘Nothing is well’. Why did you say that the other day?”
Draco stopped. “Because it’s the way it is.” He picked one of the toothbrushes up that Trelawney had left for them to work with. “Just angry nonsense. Forget about it.”
Potter crossed his arms. “I won’t.”
“Fine, then don’t.” The owl’s waste plopped off the walls. “Not like I can change a maniac’s mind.”
“Are you talking about me now or about Voldemort?”
Draco cringed again. Potter’s hand closed around his wrist. Draco chewed on his lip, still split from their fight. “To me, you’re interchangeable.”
“Because of your parents.”
He inhaled sharply and drew away. Potter wouldn’t let go. “It’s none of your business, Potter.”
“When this war is over, you’ll be okay, too.”
“No. No, we won’t. No matter which side wins, we’ll have been one the wrong one because we have disappointed the Dark Lord and fought against you. It doesn’t matter who orders the Dementor to kiss you, the result will be the same.”
An arm wound around his waist and Potter’s stomach was muscled and warm against his. Potter’s lips were warm. Potter licked at Draco’s bottom lip. Draco opened his mouth and tasted… the snitch. Cold metal, the joy and exhilaration of having caught it, of winning the match. The wind smashing his hair into his skull, and the whole world expanding, opening all its doors as the wind cuts his skin without damage.
Potter exhaled shakily. “No Dementor will kiss you.”
Draco swallowed. “Couldn’t be worse than this.” In all honesty, nothing could be better than this, he thought. Pansy was a good kisser, Blaise was an excellent kisser, but Potter was, well, a special case, Draco figured. Draco let Potter kiss him again; let the embrace tighten; let his robes fall.
“I’ve watched you,” Potter said, leading the way, gently pushing Draco back until his knees gave way and he hit the soft carpet.
“I noticed.”
Potter shook his head. He was hovering above Draco, gaze clear like the moon’s shine. “No, even before. I saw you getting thinner, whiter. I saw the Slytherins treating you like an outcast. I heard you talking to Myrtle.”
Draco’s eyes widened. Potter had heard him crying. His heart sunk and if Potter’s weight wouldn’t have held him down, pressed into the floor, he’d have fled.
“I’m sorry.” The words were barely above a whisper, but Draco had listened. Potter’s hands caressed his cheeks, and with the way Potter was looking at him Draco felt relief for the first time in a good while. Someone knew about his pain, and had shouldered part of it while Draco hadn’t been aware of it.
Draco closed his eyes. “Why did you kiss me?”
Potter snorted. “To prepare you for the Dementor’s kiss? Should be immune to that now. Can’t be worse, right?”
When Draco opened his eyes, he could see Potter smiling without smugness.
“Because I wanted to,” Potter said.
“Oh.” Draco cast his eyes down. The collar of Potter’s shirt was torn and revealing more of his neck. Tentatively, Draco pressed his lips into the skin. A muscle contracted underneath, and Draco felt Potter’s heart beat. Potter hummed and his breath tickled Draco’s ear. Adrenaline shot through him.
“Some prophecies should better be left unfulfilled,” Potter said, “because I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to see anyone die again, even if it’s Voldemort.”
Draco shuddered.
“But… I guess there are other prophecies.”
His body’s response was, well, quite obvious, and quite demanding. “If… one is fulfilled, maybe the other one doesn’t have to be.”
“It’s worth a try?”
Potter’s warm hands shoved his shirt over his head. Draco did the same for Potter. He wrapped his arms around Potter waist. The difference to his previous tries, and the assault, was clear as the sky, and he sighed to the realization why neither Blaise nor Pansy could have worked for him.
“It is,” Draco said.
Excitement and nervous curiosity hindered the act of undressing, but eventually they lay on the carpet naked and sweating. They should’ve been cold, but Draco had never felt hotter. His veins were bursting with boiling blood. He spread his legs for Potter to settle in-between, and it was a conscious decision to give him permission to do so. Surely his arousal made the decision easier, but Draco didn’t regret giving in to his body’s demands then.
“I’ve never done this before,” Potter said, a crooked smile on his lips.
“Can’t be worse than a Dementor’s kiss,” Draco said and lifted his hips. Potter’s cock rubbed over his, and Draco heard Potter’s moan through his own. “Please.”
It wasn’t so much pain as it was too much stretching, like sore muscles burning with every move. When Potter stopped going in further, Draco put a hand on Potter’s back and urged him on. Tiny sparks of pleasure, like the pleasure when flying on a broom. Needles made of wind couldn’t ever hurt enough to rule out the magnificent feeling of flying.
And neither could the slight burning whenever Potter thrust forward rule out what made Draco’s cock swell and leak, the warmth of a different sort, not sharp but blunt and expanding in his crotch till he was filled to brim and bursting.
Draco cried out. His cum spurted out, thick lines glued to Potter’s stomach. Potter came, too, not long after him. Slick wetness trickled over Draco’s thighs as Potter pulled out.
Potter covered their bodies with Draco’s robes. One arm held Draco close, the other petted his hair. The sweat had released it into the blond curls Draco had so despised since his childhood. Potter seemed to favor them as he was playing with them when Draco’s eyelids drooped, and it was the last Draco could remember before falling asleep.
*
Luna “Loony” Lovegood had never seemed quite as alert as now. Her hug was crushing his ribs. Pansy had been a moment too late, and when she was ready to get between Lovegood and Draco, the hug was already finished.
Draco blinked. The whole Great Hall’s attention was firmly set on him.
“I won! I won!” Lovegood clapped her hands together.
It dawned on him, finally. “The bet.”
She nodded. Her smile was bright. “I knew you two would find each other.”
“That’s a nice euphemism,” Blaise said. His grin showed very bright teeth.
Behind Lovegood, Gryffindor colors appeared. Glasses and a scar. Draco blushed and pursed his lips. “You told her?”
“No. Peeves saw you,” Goyle explained.
“Oh dear God no…” Draco planted a hand over his face.
Potter cleared his throat. “Luna was the only one who placed a bet on, uh. It happening with consent.”
“Aha.” Draco rolled his eyes and pushed Pansy, Goyle and Crabbe out of his way. He had to get out of the Great Hall. Maybe out of school.
He wasn’t surprised when Potter followed him onto the school grounds. “Go away,” Draco said.
“No.”
Draco turned around. “The irony. Luna – the moon.”
“Yeah.” Potter reached out. Draco watched Potter’s hand extend and settle on his shoulder. When he didn’t move away, Potter resumed talking. “Ironic, isn’t it.”
“What now?”
Potter’s mouth twitched a few times before he actually spoke. “I don’t want to wait for the next full moon to kiss you again, Draco.”
Not what he’d expected him to say. Draco watched in silence as Potter drew him closer. Over Potter’s shoulder he could see students gathering on the stairs of the main entrance. “It’s not as if you ever followed the rules, Potter.” Draco sighed and raised his brows expectantly.
Potter flashed him a smile. “Harry,” he said and leaned in for a kiss.
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-20 12:09 pm (UTC)Awww, this was lovely! Well done :)
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Date: 2010-11-20 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-21 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-21 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-21 05:15 am (UTC)Loved that line!
Nice fic!
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Date: 2010-11-21 07:41 pm (UTC)I can't explain, but the part that I loved was:
*He wasn’t surprised when Potter followed him onto the school grounds. “Go away,” Draco said.
“No.”*
Well, the last line is really cute too!
Good job!
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Date: 2010-11-22 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-25 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-05 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-05 11:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-09 07:29 am (UTC)Your hope is success,
'cuz I very much enjoy this!!! XD
I want to know who done this prompt :)
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Date: 2010-12-13 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-22 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-05 02:00 pm (UTC)Great story!