Title: Pulling Pigtails
Author: Prince Edwin
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction created by and for readers of the Harry Potter books. No copyright or trademark infringement was intended, and all of the characters, situations et c. belong to, though aren't limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc, as well as being the original fiction work of J. K. Rowling.
Summery: Harry's been avoiding Draco this year, tired of the fighting. When Draco finally corners him, Harry realises just why Draco's been teasing him for all of these years, and suddenly it's not just fighting he has to put up with. This story will contain SLASH with a HP/ DM pairing.
A/N: This will be a three-chaptered piece when completed, and I expect that it will be completed and posted by the twentieth of this month. I am hoping to post the second chapter on the fifteenth and the last on the twentieth, fates permitting. All reviews are welcomed and appreciated. All readers are welcome, too, but I can only truly apprecaite them when they speak up for themselves
"Potter! You scar-headed freak, come back here!" Draco Malfoy sprinted down the corridor after the retreating back of his nemesis of five years. He spun around the corner and found himself confronted with the top of Harry's head.
Glancing down, he snorted at the small boy staring up at him from behind his glasses. Whirling around so quickly that Draco could not protest, Harry clipped Draco with the edge of his cloak before stalking off into a deserted classroom, slamming the door heavily behind him.
Ripping the door open with enough force that it swung back and bounced off the wall, Draco pelted into the room after him, still determined to finish this fight. He found Harry leaning against the teacher's desk at the front of the room, one leg crossed casually over the other.
"Yes, Malfoy? If you insist on following me, please do make a point of making it worth the effort," Harry's tone, though lightly sardonic, was quite calm, which only served to enrage Draco further.
"You! You… you little sod, you! Perhaps I fucking followed you because I haven't finished with you yet!" Draco threw his arms up, exasperated already, despite only sharing a room with the stupid Gryffindor for a few minutes.
"Strange, I hadn't realised you had started with me. I apologise for my interruption. Please continue with whatever it was you intended," Harry's face split into a sly grin as he swept his hand before himself, indicating that Draco was welcome to do whatever he liked. At Draco's open mouthed stare, Harry sighed, changing his tactic he spoke again, this time in an honest and tired voice.
"Listen, Malfoy, has it not occurred to you yet that I've finished with you?"
Draco's face twisted into several reactions as he struggled to control himself. "What do you mean? Why?" He almost sounded hurt, and Harry contemplated this reaction.
"Well," Harry began slowly. "Don't you think that we've grown out of this a bit?"
He was planning to elaborate, but Draco looked as though he had been struck suddenly, so he cut himself off to hear what Draco had to say.
"That's why you've been avoiding me! And why you've been ignoring me! It all makes sense now; you just didn't want to fight! And all this time I'd thought that I'd…" Draco trailed off suddenly, realising the peculiarity of both what he had said and what he had been about to say.
"Thought what, Malfoy? That you'd done something to upset me?" Harry was having a hard time controlling his laughter, which was bursting his lungs like over inflated balloons as he held it in. Draco, however, did not seem quite as amused.
Quite the contrary, in fact. An expression of comprehension had dawned on Draco's face as he understood why, in the two months since they had returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year, Harry had not spoken to him once. In fact, Harry had barely looked at him. Not that Draco had wanted Harry's stupid big green eyes all over him, but it had been strange to be ignored, even when he tried to start fights.
Now, however, seeing Harry's barely controlled laughter, Draco's dawning slid right off his face, stretching his brow into a furrowed frown instead, and pulling his lips down as it sank off his chin.
"Actually," Draco said, pointing his nose into the air distastefully at Harry's lack of manners, "I had rather hoped I had finally gotten rid of you." This was not entirely true, but Draco needed to drag his way back on top of this conversation.
"So much so that you came sprinting after me when you spotted me alone in a corridor and I still refused to acknowledge you, and then cornered me in a classroom?" Harry asked, his eyebrow arching in perfect imitation of a Slytherin.
Both of Draco's eyebrows shot up in response to seeing that expression on the perfect Gryffindor, but he refrained from questioning it as he tried to focus on what he had just been asked. Damn! He had a point with that one, and Draco couldn't think of an answer to regain the upper-hand.
"Well," he began, cogitating what best to say before continuing, "I wanted to know what was going on. If all my dreams had come true and you were finally going to leave me alone," Draco retorted. Not bad, he thought. Not particularly good, but derogatory enough, and delivered with just the right amount of spite.
Harry simply smiled at this, able to see through it. Suddenly, his smile vanished; he could see through it, but to what? Why did Draco actually follow him? It couldn't be an attack, or he would have done it by now. Peering at Draco suspiciously from beneath his fringe, Harry found that he was being watched attentively, as though Draco was trying to anticipate his next move. Sighing, Harry ran a hand over his face, using the other to fiddle with the untucked edge of his shirt.
Sensing Harry's agitation, Draco grew curious. "What's up, Potter?" Although his tone was far from amiable, it certainly didn't hold the malice it usually did. Mostly, he sounded genuinely interested, though not sympathetic.
"I am wondering, Malfoy, just why you followed me. Stupid Gryffindor I may be, but I know you well enough to tell when you are lying. You were lying when you said you wanted rid of me, and I want to know why you don't!" Harry statement, though partially muffled through his hand, which was still covering his face, was clear, and as he ended it, he raised his gaze to catch Draco's in the hope of seeing the answer.
Draco, whatever he had been expecting, had certainly not been expecting that. As Harry said it though, Draco realised that it was true, even as his instinct told him to protest.
His perfect composure lost, Draco could only stare at Harry, who was watching him curiously and patiently, allowing Draco the time to respond. Unable to respond as of yet, Draco took the time to study his nemesis for the first time this year, hoping that something in Harry's face or stance might give him the answer.
Beginning with an all over body sweep, Draco tugged his eyes from the messy top of Harry's head, to the irregularly small feet encased in scuffed shoes; it was not a long distance between the two. Draco snorted: exactly as he remembered, Harry had no sense of fashion or elegance. Another glance and Draco realised with a start that Harry really didn't need it. The messy black hair that remained unstyled still, after all of these years of his insulting it, looked quite good. Instead of simply looking as though Harry hadn't mastered the use of a comb yet, the way his hair fell over his eyes and knotted at the back simply made it look as though Harry had just returned from some tryst, his lover's hand pulling at the hair at his nape and causing the tangles there.
Draco was shocked at the boiling feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought this, but ignored it in favour of continuing his inspection. His eyes fell on Harry's face, those damnable eyes calmly watching him with such an intense colour of Slytherin green that it should have been corroding Harry's sockets to have them in his little Gryffindor head. But by the amused quirk of Harry's lip, it was clear that his eyes were not scorching the inside of his head, unless Harry was a closet masochist.
This sudden idea pulled a rush of blood to Draco's groin that he struggled to ignore. His eyes still on Harry's lips, he saw an image of them begging to be bitten, words spilling from the flushed lips to plead strong teeth to pull blood from Harry's pale neck…
Shaking his head slightly, as though to dislodge the thought from its position and tip it out of his ear, Draco told himself that the idea was impossible. Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, getting off on pain. Yeah, right! But suddenly, the question was there, and Draco had never been so curious in all of his life.
He decided to distract himself slightly by addressing Harry again. "You want to know why I don't want rid of you?" he asked in a threatening tone, trying to imply that Harry would not like the answer. An easy bobbing of the head greeted his question, urging him to continue.
Unsure how to articulate his answer, but unable to think up a plausible outright lie, Draco began speaking uncertainly. "I guess, Potter, it is because I haven't finished with you yet, and I never leave things half done." Although his tone was strong, his words were still weak; he couldn't help but notice the innuendo behind them, and mixed with his previous thoughts, Draco was quickly beginning to question his sexual orientation. Being gay, Draco had long since accepted, but his sexuality being orientated towards a Gryffindor was a little much for him to handle. Not to mention which Gryffindor it happened to be orientated towards…
"Oh?" prompted Harry. When this failed to get a reply, he found himself asking, as he shrugged off his robe (damn, if it wasn't hot in this room), "What is it that you intend to do with me, Malfoy? Because I am beyond resistance now."
Draco recognised the truth in Harry's tired tone. He was beyond resistance; Draco could sink his fist into that pretty little face, and receive no retribution for it whatsoever. Harry did not want to fight. And strangely, Draco found that he didn't particularly want to fight either.
Harry had removed his robe with those words, and the meaning behind them could easily be what Draco was trying so hard to ignore, now that the thought had occurred and rooted in his head. Whether Harry had purposefully removed the robe to torture Draco, because he could see what Draco was thinking in wonderfully clear technicolour with those glittering eyes of his, or simply because he was warm, Draco did not know. Nor did he care. He simply acknowledged that it had happened, and that Harry's short sleeved shirt showed off the smooth, pale skin of his arms, and the toned muscles of his biceps.
There was something not right about the way Draco was thinking, but he wasn't quite sure what it was anymore. When he had come into this room, he had not wanted to touch Harry's lips, to nibble them, to bite them, just to see what reaction he would get. But Draco had forgotten why he was in the room and just kept asking himself 'Is the Gryffindor Golden Boy a masochist?'
"You don't want to know what I intend to do with you," Draco stated, his voice oddly breathy, as though he was running out of breath simply because they kept falling out of his lips when he spoke. This drew another raised eyebrow from the Boy Who Lived. If he can imitate a Slytherin, why was it so unlikely that he would beg like one…?
Damn it, you're a fucking Malfoy! You never wonder about things when you could find out the answer! Draco looked at Harry again, who wet his lips before he retorted. Draco's eyes followed the tongue's path across plump lips.
Just do it. He took a step closer to Harry, who had begun speaking. Draco tried to focus on what he was saying, but he was stood under a foot away, and most of his thoughts were directed on what he planned to do.
"…whatever it takes to get it out of your system, Malfoy, I guess. Just do what you want and then maybe we could leave each other alone?"
"Now there's a smart suggestion, Potter, if ever I heard one slip from your lips." He was only inches away, and instead of showing fear, Potter looked resigned.
No fear when facing the unknown, eh? I should have expected no less, but I wonder if he would be afraid if he knew I was going to do this…
"So, Malfoy, are you going to- Umph!" Harry's question was cut off, or answered, by a pair of lips crashing down on his own. His first instinct was to push Draco away, to get his lips away from Harry's, but then Draco bit him.
The initial feel of Harry's lips against his own was not bad. The lips themselves were full, pouty and readily kissable, despite their chapped state from Harry's constant gnawing on them. But what followed was a hell of a lot better.
Feeling that Harry had been ready to resist, Draco decided to finally test his theory. He opened his mouth and caught Harry's bottom lip between his teeth. Harry gasped softly, his breath expelling into Draco's mouth and empowering him. Any resistance died with that sigh.
Delighted, Draco bit gently before sweeping his tongue over the damaged skin, and he felt Harry begin to melt against him. He grabbed Harry's wrists in one hand and secured them behind his back, pulling up the other hand to tangle in the mass of knots at the back of Harry's head. Past trysts or not, Harry was his now, and he was going to prove it!
Placing one last soft kiss on Harry's lips, Draco yanked the hair he had carded his fingers through, exposing Harry's throat to him as it drew a groan from the half-sated lips. Draco smirked as he lowered himself to the pale skin he had exposed. He had been right; Harry was getting off on this. But to prove it, and to mark Harry as his own…
Pressing a flat tongue against Harry's pulse point, Draco wet the area before placing an opened mouthed kiss on it. Harry's deceptive Slytherin eyes fluttered closed, and Draco was encouraged.
He scraped his teeth lightly over the surface at first, testing the boundaries. A whimper from Harry told him he could take it further, so he did, biting lightly at the skin.
"Oh, Merlin, please, more!" Harry called out, suddenly vocal at the increase of contact.
Draco chuckled onto the damp skin, and this drew another whimper. Deciding to actually follow Harry's instructions, though only because that had been his intention to, anyway, and not because Harry Potter of all people had told him to, Draco bit harder.
The stream of expletives he was greeted with shocked him, such dirty words dropping from that pretty mouth. He pulled back to watch in amazement as Harry's cheeks flushed and his lips mouthed words that Draco could no longer hear. Oh, he had definitely gained the upper hand now! He would rub his hands together in glee, if they weren't already occupied.
"No, please… I- Just don't stop," the begging Draco had imagined unbidden before was tumbling from that pink tongue, and Draco suddenly wanted to taste it.
He sucked it into his mouth, teeth tugging at the edges to gain more of those soft sighs for him to swallow. He swallowed harsh groans instead, but was not much disappointed. He pulled back, whispering against Harry's lips, "I wasn't planning on stopping, I just wanted to see how turned on you were when I hurt you." With the last word, he pulled hard on Harry's hair where his hand was still entangled, and drew a sharp intake of breath.
Not yet beaten, Harry was coherent enough to respond to that. He thrust his hips forward, his erection pressing into Draco's thigh in a way that couldn't be ignored. "That answer your question?" he panted.
Shocked, Draco pulled further back, maintaining his hold on Harry's wrists, but releasing his hair. Harry's eyes turned up, piercing his own and ordering him not to stop yet. Eyeing Harry's neck again, and feeling his own cock hardening in response to Harry's being thrust so close to it, Draco had no desire to disobey.
One hand now free, he closed it around Harry's arse, squeezing and massaging the one thing he had always spotted on the Quidditch pitch as he failed to catch up with Harry speeding after the actual prize. Grinning that, for once, he had his hand around his prize, Draco lowered his mouth once more, this time determined to leave more than a few teeth marks.
Latching his mouth onto the joint between Harry's shoulder and neck, using his nose to nuzzle the shirt out of his way, Draco bit down hard. He could feel the flesh bunching and breaking beneath the force, and Harry was suddenly jerking erratically against him, rubbing his erection in all the right ways. Draco's own breathing began to speed up to match the pace of Harry's, but it stopped altogether when he tasted blood in his mouth. Harry's blood in his mouth. And as he licked it away, he felt Harry tense suddenly, his muscles spasming as the pain brought him over the edge.
Harry's come, warm and wet, spread towards Draco's straining arousal, seeping through his clothes until he could almost feel it against his own erection. Simultaneously, Draco could taste the metallic, and slightly spicy, flavour of Harry's blood. Overloaded with these new sensations, Draco rubbed frantically against Harry for a few seconds before freezing in orgasm himself, riding it out until if left him fatigued yet satisfied.
Leaning against each other for support, both relying quite heavily on the teacher's desk Harry had been leaning on, it took a few moments for them to pass the post-coital haze and regain the ability to move. Unwilling to leave each other's presence just yet, they spoke against each other's lips, foreheads resting together.
"I guess I know what you intended now," Harry grinned impishly, a slightly embarrassed flush reddening his cheeks and causing him to glance away.
"I guess you do," Draco smirked, but he was too sated now to tease Harry over his innocence. "Harry," he began, but Harry's eyes snapped to his so quickly that he cut himself off. He allowed his eyes to question Harry's reflex.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks darkening further. "I'm not used to hearing you say that. Surprised me, that's all."
Draco smiled at Harry, kissing him gently on the nose. Harry turned his eyes up to meet Draco's then, their wide green disconcerting this close, even through the slightly crooked glasses. "I like calling you Harry. It's certainly better than Potter to cry out, should I be doing so."
Smiling sweetly at this, Harry nodded. "You're right, for once, Draco." The thinly veiled insult was ignored as Draco's silver eyes softened to dove grey at the casual use of his first name.
They lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying each other's warmth and the warmth of random thoughts flitting rapidly through their minds.
"I guess that answered my question anyway," Draco mused, finally disentangling himself from Harry reluctantly.
"What question?" Harry asked, wondering just what the blond had been thinking when he started this onslaught on Harry.
"You are a masochist!" He cried triumphantly, his grin spreading at his victory. Harry did not seem quite as elated.
"Oh, I see," he intoned, his voice suddenly devoid of inflection. Draco looked at him, concerned by this sudden change in demeanour, and Harry sighed, running his now freed hands over his face in agitation similar to that he had shown earlier that evening.
"What's up, Harry?" Draco asked the same question again, this time using Harry's given name, drawing a flinch from the smaller boy.
Suddenly, vivid green eyes looked up, and Draco gulped, understanding just how people could think this slip of a boy before him, effeminate in features, could possibly be powerful enough to save the world.
"Well done, Malfoy, such an astute observation. Now if you could kindly step aside, I believe our business here is done." His harsh voice was terrifying, the ferocity in his eyes daring Draco to argue on pain of death. Draco was not a masochist, but he couldn't help arguing.
"I don't," Draco retorted flatly, catching Harry's hand as he stepped towards the door. "Just what's changed in the past few seconds to make you call me Malfoy again?"
"Nothing's changed, that's just the problem," Harry exclaimed, his hand unconsciously tightening around Draco's. "You're still Draco Malfoy, and I'm Harry Potter and nothing's changed! We only kissed to test some damn theory of yours and now we're back to how we always were." His voice, though shouting and clearly angry, rang hurt as well, soaking through Draco's skin and injecting him with guilt.
"Oh, Harry! Don't you know how we always were?" Draco cried, exasperated. "Have you not stopped to think that the reason I could never leave you alone was because I wanted to do that, what we just did?"
"For all this time?" Harry whispered, suddenly afraid he would be proved wrong just as he began to hope that Draco might be telling the truth.
"Yes, all this time," Draco replied, kissing Harry softly to prove his point, and partially just because he could.
Suddenly, Harry burst out laughing, just as Draco had been preparing to slip his tongue past Harry's lips. Incredibly perturbed, he huffed slightly.
"And what, might I ask, is so amusing?" he sniffed, watching as Harry's tension rolled out of him in the form of girlish giggles. Admitting to himself that the sight was quite amusing, Draco allowed the corners of his lips to quirk, but he would not join Harry in his tasteless hysterics, because it was beyond him what was even funny.
"It's just that… that all this time you've been pulling my pigtails!" Harry choked out, calming at last.
"Pulling your what, Harry?" Draco asked, shocked. Pigtails were an unsightly hair style on girls, and Draco could not imagine that the hair he had tugged earlier had ever succumbed to such a thing.
"It's a proverb or something, like… you know when a little boy likes a girl, and he's always picking on her so that she'll notice him? That's what you've been doing to me, but with hexes and stuff!" Harry started laughing again, and Draco could see the humour in the situation.
"That makes you the girl in this relationship, Potter!" Draco called out, chuckling along with the joke.
Harry stopped abruptly. "This relationship? Do you think… Do you think we have a relationship now?" If it wasn't for that hopeful look in Harry's eyes. Draco might have been insulted by the question. After what they had just done, of course they had a relationship! Draco was not any sort of slut, thank you very much.
"Yes, Harry, we have a relationship. In fact, we might just be boyfriends!" He slipped his lips into a half smile to soften the slightly admonishing tone.
"I… well, wow! I never would have… no one would have, I just-" For a second time that evening, Harry's words were drowned in Draco's lips, and this time he didn't even think of stopping it. He buried his hands in the silky strands of blond hair he had always wanted to feel, and finally kissed back with force.
Staggered, Draco pulled away, smiling down at his new boyfriend. "Sleep well, Pigtails," he whispered, kissing Harry very softly and receiving an equally soft kiss in return.
"This changes nothing," he added as Harry picked up his robe and turned to leave.
"I know, it just means that everything's the same but we understand it now," Harry smiled. Nodding, Draco bade him goodnight again with another kiss (he would never get over being able to do that) before watching Harry walk slowly down the corridor away from him.
Whispering a string of Latin words quietly as he turned his back on Harry, he suppressed a grin. Life was undoubtedly serving him well today. He had a beautiful new boyfriend who quite possibly understood him exactly, and said boyfriend was about to turn up to Gryffindor Tower in a girl's school uniform, his black hair magically tied with pink ribbons on either side of his head.
To be continued...