For the rest of his life, until he was old and wrinkly and incompetent and half senile and unable to recollect any information other than his own name and the brand of underwear he was wearing, Draco Malfoy would always remember the day he had one of the most erotic experiences of his life, and how it had all began with the most inconspicuous of items.
It was late afternoon, and the halls of Hogwarts were like the inside of an easy bake oven. Everyone was wearing their uniform at a bare minimum in an attempt to relieve themselves of the heat, and Draco was no different. Normally on days such as these, he was able to remain impassive the human weakness of fever, restlessness and incandescence, but this day seemed to be the exception – even for him. He had stripped down to his shirt and trousers, loosening the green and silver tie around his neck to allow him room to breathe. He could just imagine what his father would say if he could see him dressing so sloppily, but today he was just far too hot to care.
So, this is what had brought him into the Study Hall. Technically, it wasn't a hall, just a very large old classroom; but it did have very nice cool, shady, secluded corners in which he could sit and not be disturbed. The Study Hall was used as a room for students if they wanted to study and talk at the same time – something that was not at all tolerated by the termagant old troll of a librarian at the Library.
Draco looked over the top of the large leather book that was sitting up in his lap and looked around the room. He was leaning back in his chair on the back two legs; his back nestled securely in the 90 degree angled corner where the two cool, stone walls met with his feet up on the table in front of him, crossed at the ankle. To an outsider, he would have looked rather sinister sitting like that; his pale, angled face hidden half in shadow and his grey, hawk-like eyes shining like cats.
He wiped a droplet of sweat away from his chin with one small, elegant flick of his finger and ran a hand through his blonde hair. The room was fairly quiet; only three Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw, two Gryffindors and another four Slytherins over by the window. Draco just surveyed them all with narrowed eyes, sending out the very clear, silent vibe that he didn't want anyone coming within five feet of him today. It wasn't that he didn't like social situations…God, it's not like he was like Snape! Draco normally loved nothing more that being admired, praised and worshipped by the other Slytherins. But today, he wanted his seclusion.
Perhaps it was because he was getting into his book, or perhaps it was because he was so embarrassed about being so obviously sweltering – he didn't know. But there was something about his few moments of peace that he enjoyed from time to time. So, for this time being, he simply sat in the corner, hidden in shadows and completely out of the mind of all other students within the room.
Draco softly turned the old, stained page of the book he was reading and was on the second paragraph of the next page, when the door to the study hall banged open, and in walked (annoyingly loud) Gryffindor's very own Three Stooges, laughing their heads off at something idiotic, no doubt.
With a scowl, Draco watched as Granger and Weasley sat down together on one side of the table with their back to him, leaving Potter to sit on the other side. Most unfortunately, Potter was on the side that faced Draco, so he now had to endure the sight of the cretins face whenever he, Draco, looked up to survey the room over the top of his book. But what made it worse, was that they were all smiling and looking genuinely very happy about something…and weren't bothering to be quiet about it either.
Discretion must have been considered an idiosyncrasy amongst Gryffindors.
Feeling irritated about their rowdiness, Draco gave the three of them a silent sneer of revolution and went back to his book. The nerve of them, coming into a study hall and being so loud! He had expected nothing less from Potter and Weasley, but even the Mudblood should have known better! Draco wasn't normally one to be enthusiastic about homework, but was it too much to ask to be able to read his sodding book in peace?
"Oh, by the way, Hermione, I need your help with my Potions essay."
"For heavens sake, Ron, can't you do any homework by yourself?"
"Nah, Hermione, I don't think I've ever seen a baboon do his own essays."
SMACK. "Shut it, Harry! You haven't done yours either!"
Draco clenched his jaw, trying desperately to ignore their voices as they carried across the room, almost deliberately, to him. But, hard as he tried, their boisterous tones bared their way through his defenses. They sounded like a shrill ringing in his ear; like nails on a chalkboard. Their happy tones and uninhibited laughter went right through him, causing his irritation to reach a new plateau. He was hot, and annoyed, and frustrated, and the last thing he wanted or needed was to hear about how much the Mudblood and Weasley wanted to shag one another but still, after all these years, just wouldn't get over themselves enough to admit it.
Maybe attacking them with a good jinx would lighten his mood.
Smirking to himself, Draco looked back over the top of his book discreetly and looked over at the three Gryffindors on the other side of the room, his right hand reaching slowly toward his pocket for his wand. This was the other advantage of sitting in the shadows; you could plot a hideously cunning scheme in public and not be taken any notice of what-so-ever.
Nothing would give him greater satisfaction than to curse any or all of them into next week. They were all asking for it anyway, and had been since the day they set foot onto the Hogwarts Express. He wasn't being vindictive or spiteful…he was simply performing a public service, that's all.
His steely grey eyes landed on Granger, her hydrangea bush of brown hair unfortunately catching his eye first. She was leaning on the desk on her elbows, her eyes narrowed at Weasley as he talked to her about her duties as 'Head Girl' and how she was meant to help out anyone in need of her services. Draco momentarily repulsed himself by imagining just how exactly Weasley needed her services, before weighing up his options. He could curse her easily; her back was turned to him and she would not see it coming at all! It would be very amusing to see her with beaver teeth again.
But no, it didn't seem that appealing at the moment, so he moved on to the red-headed schmuck seated beside her.
He too had his back to Draco, and the sheer expanse of it was just begging to be hexed. Even as he watched Weasley twisting in his seat to look at Granger, a number of different spells came to mind that he had always wanted to test on the red-head. Unfortunately, most of them would put him in a cell next door to his father in Azkaban, and he didn't really trust himself to keep his spells low-key when it came to Weasley, so he ruled him out as well. But, even with the options open to him, Draco had known exactly who he had wanted to focus on the second he came up with this little scheme.
He wanted Potter.
With a small malicious grin, Draco slid his eyes away from Weasley and his atrociously blinding fashion sense, to Potter on the far side of their table. In the split second that Draco flicked his eyes from one boy to the other, his mind went into a flurry of spells, enchantments and potions he would adore to use on the so-called 'Savior of the world' or 'Boy who lived' or 'Least likely to win a Hair Stylist Apprenticeship' or whatever it was they were calling him these days. But he felt his mind go unusually blank as for the first time, he really noticed what it was Potter was doing.
He was eating a Popsicle.
It was one of those long, muggle ones on a stick that was in the shape of a cylinder, and judging from his shade of colour it must have been raspberry or strawberry flavoured. It didn't even occur to Draco in that moment to get irritated about Potter defying his one hundred and seventh fifth million school rule by eating in study hall…something like a magnetic force was keeping his eyes on Potter and that Popsicle and wiping his mind blank.
His eyes fell downward to Potter's mouth as it rested placidly against the side of the tip of the Popsicle. His lips were pink with cold and food colouring and after a moment, very slowly opened up and kissed the top of the Popsicle very softly, almost affectionately. Potter's lips parted again just an inch and his tongue slid out to take a very quick lick, before diving back in again, totally inconspicuous.
Draco's eyes widened, entranced.
He didn't mean to stare, he didn't even know why he was still watching this display – but there was something oddly fascinating about what it was Potter was doing. It was such a childish, innocent gesture. He looked rather like a toddler as he simply sat there in silence, his big green eyes watching his friends bicker back and forth like a tennis match, while occasionally kissing and licking the fruity flavour of the sweet he was holding.
Such a simple gesture, and it had such unexpected effects on the Slytherin. Draco cleared his throat and dragged his eyes away from Potter back down to his book, wriggling a little in discomfort. He didn't want to look at Potter's blemished, be-speckled face or his lips, rosy red and flushed, or his tongue that darted out to lick at the Popsicle sitting on his lips…
Draco chewed on the corner of his lip and looked up over his book again, only to see Potter licking the top of his candy slowly it were like soft serve ice-cream on a hot summer day. Draco's chest hitched and his eyes widened just that little bit as he watched Potter's tongue lick and lap up all the flavoured ice it could get with a minimal amount of work. Potter seemed to have an insatiable taste for candy, for he only waited a moment to taste his first lick before bringing his tongue back out and searching for more.
For some obtuse reason, Draco didn't want to look away anymore. This was the longest he had ever looked directly at Potter without blinking or turning away in disgust. Watching Potter eat his Popsicle was making him feel tingly and electrified and a little warmer in body temperature that he was sure had nothing to do with the room's humidity.
Draco shook himself and scowled, turning the page again with another elegant flick of his finger more harshly that was probably necessary. What was wrong with him? Getting flustered over some Gryffindor. Over some idiotic, fool-heartedly hero. Over Potter. The opposing Seeker had absolutely nothing going for him other that his stupidity and recklessness. What was there about him to find alluring? Surely not his glasses, or his bright emerald eyes, or his hairstyle that suggested he had stuck his finger in a muggle power socket. He was nothing but a scruffy berk with as much sex appeal as he had fashion sense.
Almost by their own violation, Draco's eyes left the words of the page once more and rose over the top of his book to look back at Potter. The tip of the Popsicle was once again sitting on his bottom lip as his tongue darted in and out, licking and tasting its flavour. Draco tightened his grip on his book as he watched this ritual, feeling his belly twist. He shifted again, feeling the chair wobble beneath him on its two back legs. He felt antsy, anxious and restless, as if he wanted to get up and do something else other than sit in this chair.
But still, Draco watched. The erotic movements of Potters tongue casting a spell over his attention; demanding it, requiring it…
Then Potter opened his mouth up into a small O and slowly slipped the tip of the Popsicle right in, his lips closing around it. Draco swallowed back a moan, a million images popping into his head. Vivid images of Potter doing very wicked things with a certain part of the male anatomy just as he was doing with this Popsicle. Draco clenched his jaw and felt another bead of sweat falling down his forehead, but ignored it. He ignored everything else except Potter and his mouth and what it was doing.
He just looked so innocent; as if he had absolutely no sodding idea how he looked eating the confectionary in such a fashion. Potter sucked on the tip of the Popsicle for a moment, before slowly dragging it back out of his mouth again to savor the flavour. His tongue darted out again, licked under it and brought it back into his mouth again.
Draco's breathing rate increased as he watched this display. No one else in the entire room was seeing what Draco was seeing. Granger and Weasley were far too busy talking to one another to notice and everyone else had their minds absorbed in their work. Just the knowledge that one could get away with such a thing in such a public place was very intoxicating and arousing.
Potter pulled the Popsicle out of his mouth slowly, letting it run along his tongue. He then held it up in front of him, as if to check it was still cold or the right colour, before bringing it back down to his lips and kissing it softly, sucking on the ends of it tenderly to savor the taste.
He could no longer ignore the throbbing in his crotch. Draco reluctantly tore his eyes away from Potter and looked down at his fly hidden, thankfully, behind the massive book that was still propped up in his lap. There was already a tumescent bulge which was only growing by the minute. His skin felt as though it were on fire and ultra-sensitive, and it was all thanks to Harry sodding Potter and his sodding Popsicle.
Draco looked up again, his lips parting in a silent moan of excitement as he watched Potter sink the tip of the Popsicle back into his mouth, his lips curling around it tightly and securely. Draco could just imagine having a mouth like that securely wrapped around his dick, licking and sucking as if he tasted of sweet raspberry…
He closed his eyes, trying not to watch Potter across the room, but his mind instantly took over and produced similar images in reality's place. He knotted his eyebrows together in concentration and let out another short, harsh sigh of arousal. Potter was teasing him so innocently, so unintentionally, and in public – and it was hot as hell!
He looked back over the book at Potter and almost cried out. Potter had now taken a good quarter of the Popsicle into his mouth and was sucking on it like he was dying of thirst. Draco felt his own mouth go dry as he watched on, feeling his pants tighten around his growing erection. The tip of his dick was throbbing with want, begging to be worshiped the way the Popsicle was; throbbing so bad that it was starting to hurt. He could almost feel Potter's mouth around him, sucking and licking and devouring…
Draco inhaled slowly and shut his eyes, knowing that if he didn't get out of there soon he was going to come right there in his pants. He was severely torn between wanting to get out of the room to save himself from this sweet torture, and wanting to touch himself and enjoy the fantasy of his rival's head between his legs. Looking around the room, he could see that there was no way possible he was going to navigate his way out of this room without anyone noticing the very large tent in his pants. Merlin's beard, he'd never live such humiliation down!
He quirked an eyebrow and looked around his immediate surroundings. The shadow around him had elongated and all but his shins and feet were hidden within it. If he sat right back against the wall, he would disappear completely out of sight. If he was really quiet…
He sat forward properly on all four legs of the chair, bringing his face back into the light of the room. He quickly pushed his chair back completely into the shadow of the wall, his book still in his lap. Once this chore was done, his eyes snapped immediately back to Potter. The Popsicle was once again in his mouth, making a dent in his cheek and pushing it outward.
Draco nearly lost it just seeing that.
With another sigh of excitement, he slowly reached up to his pants and undid his fly, creating a little breathing room for this insistent prick. He pushed the folds of his trousers aside, reached into his boxers and pulled his soldier free. He shivered at not just the cold, but at the picture of Potter biting into the Popsicle. He held the book tightly in place, just in case anyone did look over.
Without waiting another second, Draco wrapped his long, refined fingers around his cock and pulled softly, causing him to hiss softly with the near-orgasmic sensation. He kept his eyes in Potter and his mouth, filling in the gaps of reality with sweet imagination and denial. Every soft tug of his hand matched the actions of Potter's tongue, making his fantasy that must more real, more intense…
It was a wonder no-one could hear him from the corner. He supposed Granger and Weasley's rowdy conversation was drowning out the soft moans and sighs emitting from his open mouth. His breath was coming out in short rasps as he continued to touch himself in time with Potter's oral ministrations around the Popsicle. The feeling around his dick, the pressure, the rubbing, was so exquisite. He felt relaxed, yet tense at the same time, and the fact that he was getting away with such an explicit act in a room half full of people was making it even more enjoyable.
Draco let his head fall back against the wall behind him as he watched Potter lick under the Popsicle again. It wasn't his hand around his cock, it was Potter's mouth. Every pull was a suck of Potter's mouth; every stroke was a lick of Potter's tongue, gloriously wet and warm around him, tasting him, sucking him…
He blonde swallowed back a particularly low growl as he pulled himself off, feeling the pressure building in that recognizable sign that he was soon going to come. Potter's mouth was wrapped around the Popsicle again, and Draco's imagination took over once more. He saw Potter not on the other side of the room, but kneeling before him, his head between his legs and with Draco's dick in his mouth. He could see it as if it were really happening; Potter knelt before him on the floor sucking him off. That tongue, swirling right around his head in slow, delicate motions, making him burn with arousal and sensation. It was all so real to him. The tips of his fingers were white as he grasped the large book tightly in place.
The whole time, Draco's steely grey eyes never left Potter or his mouth. The Gryffindor was very discreetly mauling the Popsicle by now, his teeth softly biting into the ice. Draco mimicked every bite, ever stroke of the tongue and every suck with his hand, feeling the pressure building and building within his cock, ready to blow…
He could practically feel Potter's mouth around him, the rough surface of his tongue rubbing and lapping at his dick, tasting and savoring and sending jolts of electricity up him so intense and exquisite that he was torn between then feeling of wanting it to end, and wanting it to last longer.
Potter continued to suck and lick, and Draco continued to pull, stroke and caress. The throbbing in his dick was almost unbearable and he was hot now beyond belief, but none of it mattered, just as long as Potter didn't stop. Images still flashed before him, Potter's head in his lap, dick settled deep within his mouth, his head bobbing up and down with a rhythmic pace as he sucked and licked, Draco's hand holding Potter's head in place as his hips rolled with rhythmic thrusts into his mouth, so warm and wet…
That was it. One final look pull and Draco spilled sweet ecstasy into his hand with a low, strangled growl just as Potter bit the top off his Popsicle. Draco's breath came out in short, strangled gasps as he tried desperately to be quiet, but he still had to fake a small coughing fit to cover up the cry he let out from the force of his orgasm. He rested the open book on his chest, pulled his wand out, cleaned up the sticky substance in his hand and put himself back into his pants, his body still shaking from the heat and aftershocks of the hand job.
He blinked and flicked his platinum hair out of his eyes, taking a few silent moments to try to relax and act casual. A quick look around the room told him that not one person had any clue of what he had just done. Satisfied and feeling very sated and drowsy, he smirked to himself in triumph and looked back around at Potter.
He was still sucking on the Popsicle with the same attention and caresses as before, his lips very red now with colouring. It was an interesting situation, to know that Potter had absolutely no idea what he had just done for Draco. But Draco didn't mind; in fact, it was probably better that way.
No longer feeling the need to hide in the shadows, Draco fixed himself up into his pristine condition expected of him and began gathering his things. He shifted forward into the light once more, blinking at the brightness. He shoved the large book under his arm and went to stand up, when he decided to chance one final look at Potter. He slid his eyes back over between Weasley and Granger toward Potter.
And was very surprised to see Potter looking right back at him.
Draco blinked in surprise. Potter hadn't even looked at anyone since entering the room besides his two brainless sidekicks, especially not him, and especially not with such a blank look. Draco frowned in that spiteful, antagonistic way he always reserved for Potter, as if telepathically asking Potter what the hell he was looking at.
And it was then that Potter's lip curled into a smirk, flicking his tongue out and taking a quick lick of a Popsicle with one eyebrow arched suggestively.