Author: Cheryl Dyson PM
Harry makes a stupid wager against Malfoy and ends up paying the price. EXTREME MATURE ADULT CONTENT WARNING AND I'M NOT EVEN JOKING. This fic exploded my brain.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Harry P. & Draco M. - Chapters: 4 - Words: 16,141 - Reviews: 843 - Favs: 1,254 - Follows: 822 - Updated: 01-02-10 - Published: 06-10-09 - id: 5128104
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Punishment - Part One
Harry was in shock. That was the only way he could explain it, really, as he walked wordlessly from the Quidditch pitch through the double doors of Hogwarts Castle, though the entry hall, and up several flights of stairs. Absolute shock.
He had missed the Snitch.
The feathers of the winged ball had brushed the back of his hand and his fingertips had grazed the golden orb, but another hand had snatched it from his grasp at the last instant. That hand had stolen his victory and with it claimed a prize nearly beyond comprehension.
Harry followed the footsteps of the boy in front of him, barely registering the shuffling steps of the entourage who followed. Everyone seemed to be in the same state of silent amazement, even the victorious, and not a single word had been uttered since the upset.
Up and up they went, until they reached the fifth floor. They traversed several long hallways from there, and their surroundings, while still spotlessly clean from house-elf activity, nevertheless smelled musty from disuse.
The unspoken leader of their caravan halted at a huge door and spoke a spell to unlock it. The portal swung open silently and a curt gesture sent Harry inside, feeling like he was on his way to the gallows, and partially wishing it were so. Death might be easier than dealing with the consequences of his stupidity.
When the door shut behind them all, Harry schooled his features into an impassive mask as a hated voice said, "Here we are. I suppose we should all get comfortable. Potter, you wait right there."
Harry glared at the boy, but his expression went unnoticed as Draco Malfoy used his wand to move an ancient ottoman into the centre of the room. Even that was clean, but it looked rather tattered, worn in places. Harry noted absently that it was Gryffindor red, which disturbed him more than it should have when Malfoy seated his pert buttocks upon it and nodded.
"Yes, this shall do nicely, I think. Audience, if you will prepare yourselves for the show?"
Hermione tried. She should have known better this late in the game, but still she tried. Harry would have been grateful if it had been anyone but Malfoy she battled. Harry knew perfectly well that words were useless.
"Surely, you have taken this far enough, Malfoy," she said.
"Oh, no, Granger," Pansy Parkinson interjected with a large dose of malice evident in her voice. "Potter agreed to this and he lost. No welshing!"
"She's right, Hermione," Harry said, regaining his ability to speak. "Let's just get this over with."
Hermione's lips thinned, but she simply nodded and took a seat in a wing-backed chair. Ron sat next to her, looking green and almost lost. Parkinson dragged a stool across the room and then Transfigured it into a divan of Slytherin green, giving Hermione an ugly look of satisfaction at her success.
She sat down and Blaise Zabini joined her, looking bored. Then again, Zabini always looked bored.
Malfoy clapped his hands twice. "Excellent. Very well, Potter, come here and assume the position."
Harry's jaw clenched at the smug tone of Malfoy's voice. How the hell had he gotten himself into this stupid mess? Oh yes, pride. It had been stupid, ridiculous pride.
"You'll never beat me to the Snitch, Malfoy," Harry had taunted last Saturday after claiming victory from Slytherin once again on the Quidditch pitch.
Malfoy's glare had been ugly, but an amused comment from Zabini had softened it. "Perhaps the stakes are just not high enough for Draco."
A loud argument had ensued, mainly between Zabini and Ron, strangely enough, as both tried to outdo each other in coming up with proper consequences. Tempers had flared, names had been called, and a wager had been made. A one on one game, Seeker versus Seeker for the Snitch.
Harry should have won. He still could not quite accept the fact that he had lost, but the smirk on Malfoy's face helped it to sink in, as did the pale finger that beckoned him forward.
Harry forced himself to move, taking several steps until he stood next to Malfoy's perch.
"Drop them," Malfoy said. His grey eyes were alight with challenge.
Harry steeled himself and then reached up to unclasp his robes. He shrugged out of them and then reached for his belt.
"Shirt, too," Malfoy ordered and Harry's jaw worked for a moment. He said nothing, however, simply pulled his t-shirt over his head and set it aside. The room was slightly cold and he felt his nipples harden as gooseflesh broke out over his skin. He glanced toward the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the four onlookers. No curtains shielded the room from anyone flying by on a random broom, something Malfoy had to have known when he chose the location for Harry's humiliation.
He unbuckled his belt quickly, not willing to hear another word from Malfoy, and then unfastened his trousers. He let them slide to his feet and kept his eyes fixed on Malfoy's knees, covered in tailored black trousers, before him.
Parkinson whooped. "Nice arse, Potter!" she catcalled.
"Shut it, you!" Hermione cried.
"Oh, shove off, he's still got his pants on," Parkinson retorted.
"Not for long," Malfoy said. "Those, too, Potter. You agreed."
Harry sighed and wondered for the thousandth time why he had agreed to the stupidest wager known to mankind. Oh, right, because he had never imagined he would lose.
He reached up to the waistband of his briefs and pushed his thumbs inside, preparing to shove them down. As soon as he did so, Hermione shouted an incantation and Harry felt a brush of magic.
"No fair!" Parkinson shrieked, leaping to her feet.
Harry blinked at her in surprise as his underwear joined the trousers around his ankles. He felt utterly exposed.
"A Glamour? Granger, that's hardly sporting." Malfoy's voice was dry.
"I don't care," she said. "The wager was that the loser would suffer through a bare-arsed spanking with the four of us looking on. There was no stipulation that prevented the use of a Charm for modesty."
Zabini laughed, drowning Parkinson's protest. "She's right, Pansy. Give it a rest. You seem to be the only one wanting to get a look at Potter's prick, so perhaps you should tell us why, yes?"
Parkinson's face flamed and she sat down immediately. "I do not! I... It just..."
"I don't care," Malfoy said. "Let the Gryffindors have their minor concession. Potter, continue."
Harry suppressed a sigh and knelt, wincing at the cold feel of the stone floor beneath his knees. He should have used his trousers as a bit of a cushion, but it was too late, now. He just wanted this over with and bruised knees would be nothing next to his scarred ego.
He obediently leaned over without being told and frowned when his abdomen settled over Malfoy's thighs. The stool was just high enough that Harry was forced to rest upon the Slytherin.
"Scoot forward just a tad, Potter," Malfoy murmured and Harry wanted to throttle him for the amusement in his voice. He supposed, if the situation had been reversed, that he would have been just as willing to gloat, but that fact made it no easier to bear. He shifted forward slightly, taking care not to get close enough that his flaccid cock touched Malfoy's trousers. He was extremely glad that Hermione's spell shielded his privates from their curious gazes. It was something, at least.
Harry's palms pressed into the stone floor on the other side of Malfoy's legs. He barely suppressed a shiver and was vaguely glad that Malfoy's thighs were warm, small comfort though it was.
"That's better. I believe the agreed upon total was ten, correct?"
"I can't hear you, Potter. How many spankings would you like?"
Harry clenched his teeth and snarled, "Ten." He would have used a lesser number, but knew any foolish argument would only prolong his humiliation.
"Excellent. One." At the number, Malfoy's palm cracked down upon Harry's bare arse. He had been expecting it, but the sting was still a shock and the sound seemed incredibly loud in the silent room. Heat bloomed against Harry's left arse cheek and he knew he would be lucky to sit down by the time Malfoy finished.
"Two!" Malfoy said and repeated the motion on the other cheek.
"Three!" and "Four!" followed in quick succession and Harry fought to breathe normally. It was remarkably painful and he realized he had never been spanked in his life. He had been pinched and swatted and cuffed about the head and shoulders as a consequence of living with the Dursleys, but never spanked.
Despite the increasing sting, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Almost halfway done.
"Five!" however, caught him a bit lower and he jerked forward in surprise, feeling a jolt of something other than pain.
"Six!" hit the same spot, even harder, and Harry bit his lip against a gasp. It felt almost... good. To his horror, his cock twitched and began to swell. Dear Merlin, not now! Please not now.
He clung to the knowledge that there were only four left and willed Malfoy to hurry before his humiliation reached epic levels. Malfoy, however, firmly held onto his title as the Bane of Harry's Existence.
"Bloody hell," he said. "My hand is aching. I should have specified a riding crop or paddle."
The thought of a leather crop smacking across his bare buttocks was not conducive to reducing his growing erection, Harry discovered, and tried to divert his thoughts to something else, such as harvesting bubotuber pus.
He concentrated so hard on distracting his thoughts that he was not quite prepared for "Seven!" and it angled downward slightly. Malfoy's fingertips grazed Harry's testicles and the resulting jolt sent the tip of Harry's full-blown erection straight into Malfoy's thigh.
The Slytherin gasped and Harry dropped his head, face flaming. He wondered if he could reach his wand--trapped in the folds of his robe--and hex himself into nonexistence. He waited for the inevitable laughter and taunting.
Instead there was a tense silence and then Harry felt another crack, even sharper and lower than the last one, driving him forward even as Malfoy's leg shifted minutely. Harry drew in a sharp breath as his cock hit Malfoy's thigh once more, nearly tearing a moan of pleasure from him. He bit his lip hard to suppress it. Merlin, his arse was a mass of fire, but he had never been so hard in his life.
Even worse, he had a bizarre urge to spread his legs and let Malfoy spank him harder... and touch him...
"Nine," Malfoy whispered before he struck. Harry braced himself, but inhaled in surprise when two things happened simultaneously. First was the delicious friction of his cock slamming into Malfoy's leg, but after the crack of pain on his arse, Harry felt Malfoy's fingertips scrape over his testicles and then slide quickly up his arse crack. He shuddered and reflexively pushed into Malfoy's thigh once more, desperate for more contact on his aching, throbbing erection.
Dear Merlin, Malfoy had touched him and he now was humping Malfoy's leg. Harry would never hear the end of it. He was doomed. He would have to leave Hogwarts forever.
Harry nearly sobbed as the final blow landed, followed by another touch to his swollen testicles and an upward brush that actually grazed his arsehole. Harry almost came at the contact. His arse felt like he had sat on a hive of bees and even the cool air felt painful. Despite that, Harry shivered with the need for release. His breath came in harsh half-sobs.
He threw himself away from Malfoy and tore at his pants and trousers together, dragging them up over his agonizing erection and burning arse. He winced at the action, but did not pause. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, unable to look at Malfoy. He doubted he would ever be able to look at the Slytherin again.
Harry needed to escape. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were already at the door. Parkinson was laughing and chattering away. Harry yanked on his shirt and tried to walk at a casual pace. The friction of material against his flaming cheeks and throbbing prick was maddening.
"Potter." Malfoy's voice sounded like a clanging death knell. Harry stopped, dreading the next sound. "A word, if you please."
He sounded almost polite and Harry shut his eyes before nodding.
"Alone," Malfoy added, sending a spike of anxiety reeling through Harry's veins.
Parkinson pouted, Ron protested, and Hermione tried to mediate, but the four of them finally pushed into the hallway too soon for Harry's comfort.
Malfoy's footsteps advanced, since Harry had not budged from his spot near the door. The hardness of his cock had not diminished in the slightest and Malfoy's approach made it twitch uncomfortably.
The Slytherin stopped directly behind Harry and his voice was low, close enough to Harry's ear that his hot breath steamed the side of his neck.
"Tomorrow. Same game, higher stakes. Twenty spankings, no clothing, no audience. Yes?"
Harry thought his heart might leap completely out of his chest. "No one finds out about this?" he countered.
"Not if you accept the challenge."
"See you tomorrow, Potter," Malfoy purred. Harry fled.
Author's Note: (This fic was melting my brain for the better part of a year and finally decided it had to be written or destroy me. Yes, there is more.)