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[yaoiandpocky.livejournal.com]

Title: Sex Magic
Author: VelvetBlood
Rating: PG-13 for now, NC-17 in later chapters.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, Hogwarts, or anything resembling JKR's work.
Summary: In Harry's seventh year, an unexpected subject pops up on his schedule. Silly, smutty, light-hearted fun. Harry/Draco.
Author's note: Because some confusion has been expressed regarding McGonagall's position as Headmistress, I feel that I need to explain that I am basing this off of the assumption that when Dumbledore fled Hogwarts at the end of OotP, the Deputy Headmaster/mistresss (McGonagall) would then fill that roll. Hope that clears that up.

Chapter one.
Chapter two.

******

The look that McGonagall gave Harry when he answered her owl the next morning was not encouraging. He hadn't slept at all the previous night, his stomach burning acidly with a combination of hunger and apprehension. Now, facing down a scowling Headmistress, his hopes were dashed.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, Mr. Potter," she told him tonelessly. "After a carefuly study of the application it appears that the Weasley twins, unruly meddlers though they may be, used precisely the method of duplicating your signature that I had thought. They made a magical copy and transfigured it onto the application for the class. I owled them last night just to be sure and received their response just before I sent for you. Their letter affirmed my findings, and also contained a rather amused and late apology. But the point is that there was no foul play involved in your enrollment. Your signature was your own. There can be no mistake. I'm sorry."

"But Professor, I don't want to be in this class!" Harry pleaded desperately.

McGonagall sighed. "As do many students after receiving their partners. The fact remains that even though you may not wish it now, when the Goblet made its assessment of you it found no objection to the class or the course material."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you remember in your fourth year when we asked underaged students not to give their names to older students to put into the Goblet for Hogwarts Champion?" she asked him quietly. "It would have been pointless. The Goblet would have known if the magic connected with the signature belonged to the person or not. Similarly, the Weasleys might have transferred your name onto a piece of paper that you did not sign, but the hand that wrote the signature was your own, Harry. Now I know that you resent being uninformed of your enrollment, and that you dislike your partner, but you do have to go through with this."

Harry felt the ground begin to shift underneath his feet as his head whirled at those last words. McGonagall took one look at him and sighed.

"You'd better go get yourself some breakfast," she said kindly.

Harry swallowed and nodded, walking out of her office and on toward the Great Hall with a feeling of numb detachment. He was going to have to shag Malfoy. Repeatedly. Feeling lost and afraid, he took his seat next to Ron and stared down at his empty plate until he felt a warm hand settle on his shoulder. He looked up to see Hermione leaning over the table with an arm outstretched towards him and a small, understanding smile on her lips. He smiled back briefly and turned to Ron, only to find the entire Gryffindor table staring at him expectantly. Apparently news had gotten around. Looking away quickly, Harry picked at a piece of toast until he found his eyes drawn to the person he most definitely did not want to see.

Draco Malfoy was staring right back at him, probably awaiting an answer. Harry shook his head. The Slytherin's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He looked as if the world had just started spinning in the wrong direction. Harry knew exactly how he felt.

***

The rest of the day was horrible. Numerous friends offered their condolences, but they failed to make a dent in Harry's foul mood and only seemed to irritate him further. The only person who Harry felt he could relate to was Neville, who spent most of his time in their room, refusing to go downstairs into the common room lest he run into Lavender. When Harry finally managed to convince him to pinch some Butterbeer from the kitchen and sit out by the lake after dinner, he stared miserably out over the water.

"It could have been worse, Neville," Harry told him. "At least you got a girl."

"Yeah," Neville muttered back. "I'm sorry, Harry. About Malfoy, I mean. Tough luck."

"Yeah," said Harry, suddenly losing interest in his drink.

"Harry! Neville!"

A familiar Irish lilt carried across the courtyard and the two boys by the lake turned their heads to see Seamus, Dean and Ron coming down the slope. Harry didn't know if he felt up to company, but Neville seemed to be.

"Hello," he said to the trio.

"Hey, Neville," Seamus grinned. "Bit of luck scoring Lavender in Sex Magic, eh? I woulda taken it, but I don't turn seventeen for another three months, and me mum wouldn't sign for me."

Neville's head ducked down and Harry glared at the freckled boy. "Nice going, Seamus."

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"Lavender isn't exactly thrilled to have Neville as a partner," Dean supplied.

"Oh," Seamus murmured. "I'm sorry, Nev. Well, buck up, mate! You could have been in Harry's place!"

At that, Harry groaned and dropped his head onto his knees.

"Yeah," Seamus muttered with a grimace. "Tough luck, mate."

***

The two and a half days passed far too quickly for Harry's liking. All too soon he found himself back in front of the Room of Requirement, maintaining a safe distance so that his dark thoughts didn't imprint themselves on the room beyond. When he heard voices coming down the hallway towards him, he shook his head. Where was his famous courage now? Squaring his shoulders, Harry cleared his mind and walked into the classroom.

Malfoy was already there and Harry steered away from him, heading toward a table in the back. Neville caught his arm as he passed.

"Read the note," he told him, nodding toward the front of the room.

There, hovering in the air, were the words, "Sit with your assigned partner." Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry made his way back to Malfoy's table and sat down, keeping his eyes doggedly forward. Not soon after, Professor Mason entered.

"Ah, good. All present, no tardies. Just what I like to see. Well then, first things first," she said, closing her eyes briefly. Harry wondered what she was doing until he remembered where he was and immediately began looking around the room for changes. "There. You'll find that you're all now sitting on benches, instead of individual chairs. I find that works better for today's lesson."

Harry gulped. He didn't want to know. He really, really didn't.

"Today I'll be going over the first chapter in the text. I want you all to pay attention and ask questions freely. There is no need for notes, however while I speak I want you to hold hands with your partner."

There were several amused glances exchanged between the students. Harry stubbornly tucked his hands under his thighs and absolutely refused to look at Malfoy.

"Come, come! You're in a Sex Magic class. If you can't handle a little hand-holding, then I dread how you'll feel about the rest of the assignments!" Professor Mason scolded them.

Harry heard people shifting closer together all around him and wiggled uncomfortably, settling himself more fully on his hands. He could feel eyes on the back of his head, and blatantly ignored them. When the silence seemed to stretch unbearably, he looked up at Mason.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy...we're waiting on you," she said quietly.

Harry looked over at Malfoy to see him staring at a spot on the desk in front of him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Another five seconds stretched before the blonde slowly brought a pale hand to rest on the bench between them. Feeling his gut twist unsettlingly, Harry drew his right hand out from under him and inched it along towards Malfoy's. When his fingers had barely come into contact with the back of the Slytherin's hand, he stopped.

Professor Mason sighed. "That'll do for now, I suppose."

Harry let out a relieved breath and heard Malfoy do the same. The feeling of his skin underneath Harry's fingertips made him feel odd and want to pull his hand away.

"A large portion of what you'll be dealing with in this subject is control. Control of yourself, your partner, and the magic between you during the heights of physical pleasure. Without control, there can be no trust. Without trust, you will be completely lost in this subject."

Harry snorted. Well, that counted he and Malfoy out...

"Mr. Potter, I believe the instructions were to hold Mr. Malfoy's hand," Mason snapped.

Inwardly groaning, Harry hastily laced his fingers with Malfoy's. The other boy's hand remained limp in his own and when Harry chanced a look in his direction, he saw the other boy was pink-cheeked. Harry found his embarrassment to be oddly somewhat rewarding, and squeezed his hand for good measure. He was rewarded with a shocked gasp from the blonde before he jerked his head around to glare accusingly at Harry.

"As I was saying," Professor Mason continued. "Control is key. Each relationship is different. In some, one partner will have the majority of the control, and in others the control will be shared more equally. No doubt you've heard terms for this behavior before - dominant and submissive, top and bottom, etcetera. The most important thing to remember is that this does not make one person any more or less of an equal than the other. People are very, very different creatures. Some feel more comfortable with responsibility than others. If your partner is more demanding or wishes to submit to you, do not be surprised. Try to accomodate them to the best of your ability, while still making your own needs evident."

Padma Patil's hand went into the air and Mason called on her to speak.

"What would happen if both wanted to be in control? Or the one giving up control? Wouldn't that create problems?" she asked.

"Yes, it would indeed. However, one of the considerations that the Goblet of Fire uses to select potential partners is their desire to fill these roles, or none at all. You and your partner are as perfectly matched for your tastes as possible with your given choice of classmates."

Harry felt uneasy. Malfoy would almost definitely want to control him. That was just the sort of prat that Malfoy was. Harry realized for the first time the danger of the situation that he now found himself in. He would be laid bare in the hands of a Death Eater sympathizer who would absolutely have the power to hurt him...

"Once you've established your roles, it will be easier to focus on controlling your magic, rather than the situation." Professor Mason continued. "I do not wish for you to strive for any great restraint in your first sessions. We will work on bringing restraint back into the act later, once we have determined your magical compatibility and the range of your ability with your partner.

"Now, I want you to explore one another's hands," she announced suddenly. "I know how silly that sounds, but a large part of this course will be establishing a level of comfort with your partner. I want you to get to know every facet of them, and they you. Play with their fingers, run your own over their palm and wrist...just allow yourselves free reign. Once fifteen minutes have passed, you are free to leave."

Harry choked. Play with Malfoy's fingers? His cheeks infused themselves with heat as he looked down at their joined hands. He heard Malfoy groan softly in disgust, but felt him pull their hands apart to run the tip of his index finger down to the base of Harry's thumb. He stopped, seeming satisfied and reluctant to continue any further. Harry would have let him, but Mason was staring right at them. Shaking his head, Harry trailed his fingers down the back of Malfoy's hand to his wristbone, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the soft flesh.

"Peasant," Draco sneered at the calloused state of Harry's skin.

"Snob," Harry retorted, turning Malfoy's hand over in his and running his fingers over the perfectly smooth palm. "You've never done a day's work in your life, have you?"

Malfoy jerked his hand out of Harry's grip. "If you mean mucking around in the dirt like a Weasley, then of course not!"

Harry grabbed Malfoy's hand, tugging him closer with a crushing, painful grip. "It shows," he told him, scraping his nails lightly over the Slytherin's knuckles.

Draco drew a sharp breath and his hand spasmed slightly. Harry caught it, but decided to ignore it. The other boy ran the backs of perfectly manicured nails over the underside of his fingers. When he shifted to scratch Harry's palm, Harry jumped at the tingle that spread up his arm. It didn't quite tickle, but it didn't feel bad either. Shutting away the thought that Malfoy had done something to him that felt good, Harry began to rub his thumb in small circles over the underside of Draco's wrist. He noticed the barely perceptible way Malfoy's eyelids fluttered, and wrapped the rest of his fingers completely around the fragile bones he found there.

"What are you-?" Draco began to ask, only to fall quiet when Harry drew his hand up and over to weave their fingers together again. He cleared his throat and swallowed before saying, "Don't go getting queer, Potter."

"I'm only following directions, Malfoy," Harry told him, although he was also deliberately trying to unnerve the other boy.

"Time is up. You all did wonderfully. I'll see you on Friday, and have a nice supper." Professor Mason called from behind the two boys.

Harry and Draco immediately pulled their hands apart and wiped them on their pant legs, sending one another suspicious glances before they gathered their things and left. Once outside in the hall, Harry squeezed his hand into a ball and relaxed it several times, trying to shake off the warmth of Malfoy's skin. By the time he reached the Great Hall, he still hadn't succeeded.

******