Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: The Small Print
Rating: NC-17 (Please heed!)
Word Count: 12 000
Summary: Draco Malfoy's first mistake was buying the thing. However, his second mistake was even worse. Sixth year AU. Draco's reasons for acting suspicious are a little different. HPDM. HUMOR. SLASH. COMPLETE.
Warnings/Notes: This was initially a simple PWP (which is why I didn't plan to post it here) but I was convinced to write a sequel and so the story grew. The beginning of the story is very explicit; later, not so much. Also, I've been very busy lately, so I've been writing less, and I haven't logged in on this site for a long time. I'm sorry to say that this situation will last for a while. But because you're all awesome to me, I'll post this whole story at once, instead of leaving you hanging on a cliff. Loveage to all.
The Small Print
Potter was lying on a desk, on his back, his legs spread wide and his shirt bunched up around his waist. His lips parted to utter a soft moan every time Draco twitched his hips and pushed deeper inside of him. His eyes were half-open and his glasses askew, black hair ruffled as usual, though now its messiness had a different meaning — Draco had been the one who had tousled it.
Logically, Potter should have looked silly, especially since he still had his socks and shoes on, but not his trousers and underwear. But rather than silly, Draco thought that Potter looked wanton — his naked legs dangled in the air, strong and pale and knobbly-kneed and his hands were wrapped around his own cock, stroking and squeezing, carefully following Draco's slow rhythm.
Potter had nice hands, Draco noticed distractedly. His nails were short and stubby and his fingers were splattered with ink, but they were long and looked skilful, moving along the length of Potter's cock, his thumb pausing to circle on the tip, smudging the wetness gathered there. It would have been nice to have those fingers wrapped around his own cock; however, Draco could hardly complain since he was quite eager to keep his cock where it was. He looked down at the rim of Potter's hole encircling Draco's prick, marvelling at the way it gripped him tight, but still consistently allowed him to move in and out.
He should stop watching this, Draco thought as his balls tightened. But watching Potter jerk himself off wasn't really an option either if Draco wanted this to last longer. So he looked up at Potter's face again, noting that Potter's cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment or anger, just from pure arousal. Unconsciously, Draco leaned in, placed his palms flat on the desk on either side of Potter's body, and then sped up his movements, barely registering the wet sounds their bodies made each time they slapped together. Potter bit his bottom lip and shut his eyes, his head thrashing left and right as his hands moved faster, his knuckles hitting Draco's abdomen. His body jerked upwards, his muscles clenching, making the tightness around Draco's cock unbearable, and Draco's vision darkened for a moment, though he managed not to come just yet.
Draco didn't stop thrusting, even though his arms and back hurt since he leaned in too low. Potter's hands and his abdomen were a sticky mess, and Draco felt a sudden urge to clean that mess with his tongue, but nothing could have made him stop what he was doing.
As though he had read Draco's thoughts and decided to test that theory, Potter fluttered his eyelashes before he managed to open his eyes, his moans becoming louder now that he came, as though he no longer had the energy to try and stay silent. Potter's mouth formed a perfect o, his bottom lip looking too inviting; swollen and red and clearly demanding to be licked. Groaning in defeat, Draco slowed down his movements, almost stopping so he could bend down and capture Potter's lip with his teeth, and then swipe his tongue along the tender flesh before pulling it in his mouth and sucking on it lightly. His thrusts were shallow and slow, but Potter continued to clench around him, massaging Draco's cock and guiding him towards release.
Potter moaned loudly and wrapped his legs around Draco's body, the heels of his shoes cold and digging uncomfortably into Draco's buttocks.
"Draco," Potter murmured unexpectedly just as Draco's orgasm rushed forward. "Draco, you're drooling."
Draco blinked incomprehensively, his vision distorted, and his cock pulsing. "What?" he asked, breathless.
"Draco, honey, you're drooling."
Draco frowned, and his vision cleared as well as his hearing. He stared, perplexed, at Pansy Parkinson. Sitting next to him. In a crowded classroom. Where everyone had their clothes on, including — Draco looked around at Potter, who was seated in the back of the room — Potter was indeed fully dressed and was sitting in a chair, scribbling dutifully.
Draco shook his head to clear it, and then quickly remembered to wipe his mouth.
"Er ..." Draco coughed. "Right. I just dozed off." He nodded, sneaking a glance in Pansy's direction.
"Oh?" Pansy asked, looking smug. "Did this help you doze off?" She waved a colourful package with Harry Potter's picture on the front around. The one that Draco had bought recently. The one that said: Patent Daydream Charm: Shag this dashing hero on a desk; it's worthy of a zero on your test. Pansy grinned deviously. "Or did it help you get off?"
Draco squirmed and sulked, not sure what he regretted more — that Pansy had found this stupid package, or the fact that said package hadn't actually helped him to get off. He was painfully hard and left to take care of the problem himself. Now he'd have to run to the nearest bathroom and wank, knowing that Potter would follow him, probably trying to figure out why Draco was limping. This was not the result Draco had been expecting. He hadn't expected it the first time, or the thirty-second time. Which was perhaps a little irrational, but Draco had planned to stop this madness. As soon as he finished the Special One Hundred Fantasies Set: Maybe it isn't true, but in this set, Harry Potter will be gay for you!
The bell rang, and annoyed, Draco looked at his blank parchment, noting resentfully that the Charm had delivered what it had promised. He would definitely get a zero on this test.
Oh well, sixty-eight more fantasises to go. Maybe he would try the If you're unashamed, and wish to be captured and tamed; have some bondage fun with our Chosen One! next.
Draco dragged his feet tiredly, forcing himself to keep up with his classmates. They were heading towards the Great Hall for dinner after an exhausting day, and though Draco would have liked nothing better than to just go to bed already, he had supposed that that might seem overly suspicious. He had been accused by many of his friends on too many occasions that he was acting bizarre lately.
This was indeed a correct assumption as Draco was well aware, but there was nothing to be done. Draco was determined to get through his Daydream Charm set as quickly as humanly possible. The faster he finished it, the sooner would this strange Potter obsession disappear. At least that was Draco's hypothesis. He was driven onwards by a fanatical urge to finish what he had started; this really didn't have anything to do with Potter specifically. Draco just didn't like doing things halfway.
During the last month he had reached the Charm Number Ninety-Three, and Number Ninety-Four now lay in his school bag, waiting to be used at an opportune moment. It had been a strenuous month for Draco. He had wanked entirely too much. Of course, he had wanked without the assistance of Charms, as well. It seemed like such a waste to use the Charms before going to bed; at peaceful times like that he could make up his own damn fantasies. Fantasies that of course never involved Potter. They were all about a faceless dark-haired man, who did appear to look exactly like Potter, but Draco had declared it to be someone else, and since this was his mind, no one could possibly challenge this declaration.
So it did seem more logical to use the Charms during potentially dull classes. Or during breaks between classes. He had found some quiet places to hide in, but unfortunately, Potter was still following him for same strange reason, and it was beginning to be difficult to hide from him. A spectacular inspiration had hit Draco, however, and he had remembered that strange room where Potter had organized his little fan club or whatever back in their fifth year. The Room had served Draco wonderfully, even though, or because he was aware that Potter spent a lot of time trying to break into that room whenever Draco occupied it, but the Room appeared to be on Draco's side.
Free time, however, was not on Draco's side. As classes went on and Christmas holidays drew near, he had less and less time to spend on Potter Daydreams, and even when he did manage to find a spare moment, the Charms seemed to be merely draining his already tired person. Though, that had not convinced Draco to stop this. Draining or not, the Charms were still fabulous.
Sighing heavily, Draco collapsed on the bench, staring at the unappealing dinner in front of him. He had believed himself hungry, but right now he was more inclined to go to his room and use the latest charm: We're sure you'll find it supreme to get this hero under your thrall by taking exhibitionism to the extreme and shagging him in the middle of the Great Hall.
Draco looked around carefully, happily remembering this particular caption. Surely, surely, it would be logical, required even, to use this charm here. Now. It was practically begging for it.
His fellow Slytherins appeared to be eating and paying Draco no heed. These days, Draco spent most of his meals just staring at his food blankly, so perhaps, if he used the Charm now, no one would notice the difference. On the other hand, he had used two Charms today already, so maybe this was pushing it, but well, he was trying to end this whole thing as quickly as possible.
Successfully talking himself into it, and absentmindedly suppressing the little voice in his head that tried to remind him that his brain was sex crazed and not to be expected to come up with anything reasonable, Draco shoved his hand in his bag, feeling out the little box of joy. He extracted it carefully and placed it on his lap while taking his wand out of his pocket.
"I think you have a serious problem, Draco."
Startled for a second by Pansy's voice, Draco clenched his teeth and growled at the girl sitting next to him, "Eat your dinner and leave me alone."
"It's becoming an addiction," Pansy insisted, sounding genuinely concerned.
Annoyed that a treacherous part of him agreed with Pansy, and annoyed at Pansy who had no business being right, Draco just huffed, avoiding eye contact, desperate to cover the fact that he had no arguments against her statement. Ignoring Pansy's grumbling, Draco straightened the package, which looked a little worse for wear, probably because it was cramped in his bag all day. Shrugging, he opened it, touching the tip of his wand to the indicated spot.
"Draco!" Pansy whispered urgently. "Stop that. Listen to me. I'm just trying to help —"
"Pansy," Draco said, turning his head to glare at the tiresome girl, but Pansy was staring wide-eyed at the Daydream Charm, probably scandalized by the caption. Draco rolled his eyes and tried to sound calm when he said, "Pansy, I just have seven more. And once I finish them this will be over. So quit pestering me!"
"No, but, Draco, you don't understand. I was trying to help so I —"
"Mind your own business and leave me alone," Draco said quietly, but coldly, much too irritated to control himself.
Pansy's worried, sympathetic expression transformed instantly, and instead, she looked highly insulted.
"Fine," she snapped. "Be that way." She turned away from him and viciously attacked the innocent food on her plate.
Feeling slightly guilty, Draco was nonetheless undeterred. He fully intended to use the Charm now, and Pansy's peevishness was not going to stop him. He quickly murmured the incantation and closed his eyes.
After a couple of seconds, feeling somewhat dizzy, he opened them expectantly, only to be greeted by the exact same surroundings. Confused, he was beginning to think that the Charm hadn't worked, but then he realized that this fantasy was meant to take place in the Great Hall so no change in surroundings was to be expected. Pleased and a little giddy at the thought of what he was about to do, he looked around, searching for Potter. Sure enough, the Charm provided its main protagonist without delay, and Draco spotted Potter entering the Hall with his two dotting sidekicks, all of them talking animatedly.
Grinning widely, Draco shot up and hurried towards his goal, not wanting to waste time, aware that Pansy might choose to hit his ribs and wake him up at any moment. He reached Potter in that familiar dreamlike way, when one couldn't remember exactly how they had crossed the obstacles in order to reach their desired target. Draco smiled, delighted when he caught Potter, stopping his progress towards the Gryffindor table.
"Potter," Draco greeted flirtatiously, not sure what to expect. Sometimes, during these Daydreams, Potter was reluctant, sometimes he was intrigued, sometimes eager, and sometimes he would pounce on Draco with unbridled fervour and power that left Draco shaking for hours after their make-believe encounter. Draco just never really knew what he would get.
Potter blinked at him, and said, "Malfoy?" as though he wasn't sure who Draco was. Draco sighed inwardly; clearly this Charm incorporated the reluctant and somewhat dim version of Potter. Draco did like this version — he liked all the versions — but a pounce-y Harry would mean this fantasy could move on quickly. And time was of the essence here.
Therefore, unwilling to lose any precious seconds, Draco took another step forward and grabbed Potter's shirt, pulling him roughly towards himself.
As he was unceremoniously pressed to Draco's chest, Potter let out a quiet "Omph!" just as Weasley and Granger yelled something loud and threatening. However, Draco paid no attention to the extras, and he ignored Potter's obvious surprise in favour of pressing his lips to Potter's and wrapping his arms around Potter's waist.
The kiss didn't start very well, though. Draco tried, he really did; he nibbled and licked Potter's lips, but accomplished nothing. As far as kisses went, this one was simply horrible because Potter had refused to move his lips. Annoyed, Draco pulled back, wondering if there was something wrong with this Charm. It was clearly malfunctioning. There was a definite glitch in the scheme since everyone around them seemed frozen on the spot, and additionally, this version of Potter had only one talent, which apparently, was the ability to blink very rapidly.
Not giving up and deciding that where the Charm had failed, his natural charm might work, Draco leaned closer to Potter and whispered seductively, "Come on, Harry. There's no need to pretend you don't want me. I can't wait to have your cock in my mouth. Would you like that? I could suck you off while everyone's watching. And then, I'll press you here on the Gryffindor table and fuck you raw. You'll like it. You always like it."
Potter's eyes widened impossibly and he opened his mouth, obviously astonished, but that was all Draco needed. He forced his tongue past Potter's lips, at the same time lowering his hands to grab Potter's buttocks, kneading the familiar mounds and pulling Potter closer. He pressed his arousal to Potter's crotch, rubbing against it unashamedly. Finally, Potter reacted, but instead of grabbing Draco's head and kissing him silly, as he would normally do, Potter pushed him.
Great, Draco thought, dismayed, this was yet another virginal version of Potter. There were far too many of those in this set. Maybe Draco should buy another set. Shaking his head to clear it, Draco concentrated on the task at hand.
"'s alright," he murmured soothingly against Potter's lips. "You'll love it. Just let me get my hands on you. I'll fucking make you scream, Potter." Draco grinned, still pressing kisses to Potter's lips as he moved one hand towards the zipper of Potter's trousers, and with the other, cupped Potter's crotch, massaging lightly.
But then, out of nowhere, a force hit Draco's body and he was brutally propelled backwards, flying through the air and ending up sprawled on the floor, his backside hurting something horrid.
Irritated that he had been separated from Potter so suddenly and cruelly, Draco glared, looking up at Potter who was gapping at him, Granger who was frowning worriedly, and Weasley who was holding his wand pointed straight at Draco, making Draco realize that Weasley had just hexed him. Weasley, of all people.
This just wasn't acceptable. The extras weren't supposed to fight him and Potter was supposed to lie back and bloody take it. Surely, this was a bit too much realism for a simple Daydream Charm. Something was very wrong here.
"What is wrong with you people?" Draco fumed, getting up. Maybe he said the incantation incorrectly? Or this Charm was simply broken.
His words were met with some additional looks of disbelief. Clearly, everyone in this Charm was an idiot.
"What's wrong with us?" Granger said weakly.
"I'm not here to interact with you," Draco scoffed. "I just want Potter. Now would you excuse me? I'll just take Potter and leave. We have some shagging to do. And you people don't get to watch a bloody thing." Draco brushed his robes and walked determinedly towards Potter.
"Um," Potter said, but looked unable to say anything else. He did, however, take a step back. And raised his wand.
Draco stopped and cocked his head, confused.
"Draco, darling," Pansy murmured, standing inexplicably beside Draco.
Draco turned his head in Pansy's direction much too quickly, causing his neck to make a dangerous creaking sound. Oh but, everything was a lot clearer now, Draco thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes. Pansy always found ways to spoil his fun. This fantasy was broken and it was obviously Pansy's fault.
"What did you do?" Draco snarled.
Pansy looked apologetic and very worried. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'll ... do this." Pansy looked at Potter, and then shook her head as though she had chills, before she cleared her throat and continued, "I — well, I was worried about you and I thought I should destroy the seven remaining Charms. You were so obsessed. And I was worried. I was just trying to help. Did I mention I was worried?" Pansy sniffed. "I am so sorry."
"Destroy?" Draco repeated dumbly, slowly absorbing this information as a horrible, horrible realization formed in his mind, though Draco was not ready to accept it. "You mean, this is ... it's malfunctioning, right? The Charm is malfunctioning. It's broken," he said hopefully, desperately.
Pansy shook her head, looking frightened, but holding her ground. "They are ruined, Draco. They don't work at all," she whispered. "I thought you would notice," she added in a small voice.
"Oh." Draco gulped and looked around at the students, professors, and possibly the entire school. The entire school that was staring at him in shock. "This is ... real," Draco breathed.
Pansy bit her lip and then hid her face in her hands, nodding her head.
Draco thought he might throw up.
"What Charms? What are you talking about? What is going on?" Weasley cried out, startling everyone, but that seemed to have served as a wake up call because the students began to whisper, their murmuring spreading like wildfire throughout the Hall and soon the noise was deafening.
With courage he never knew he possessed, Draco looked at Potter, who still hadn't said a word, but merely stared at Draco as though petrified.
"I —" Draco tried to speak, but his throat was too constricted. However, the sound caught the attention of several people standing nearby, including Potter, and they quietened and waited expectantly for Draco to explain himself. Draco coughed, his mind scrambling to find some excuse for his behaviour. Preferably something as further from the truth as possible. "I ... lost a bet. And this was ... I had to pretend that ... and kiss Potter. And ..." Draco trailed off, fearing that no one believed him. By the looks of it, no one did. "I fooled you, didn't I?" he added lamely. And then he laughed. "Ha ha. Isn't it funny?"
Someone giggled nervously, and someone snorted, but Potter was still just staring at him in a way that made Draco wish the ground would open and swallow him.
But the ground was unlikely to do that, so Draco did the only sensible thing he could think of.
All things considered, Draco supposed that this whole business wasn't as dreadful as he had originally thought. In fact, he was quite content with how everything had turned out. While panicking and drowning in his embarrassment, he was struck with sudden inspiration and had remembered to hide in that convenient Room where Potter had never been able to find him before. That had been a sensible course of action because so far Draco was left alone.
The Room was very practical and obliging, and it provided Draco with everything he needed. It gave him food, a bed, and a bathroom, as well as a bunch of other things that Draco didn't really need, but he had fun thinking up different things to ask for to see whether the Room had limits or not. That was how Draco now came to posses a life-sized, Potter-shaped, inflatable doll. Draco had accidentally wished for Potter — so he could punch him, of course — but apparently, the Room could not create living things. Or pretty things, since the doll was frightfully ugly. The rendering was completely inaccurate; Potter was much more handsome.
Draco rubbed his temples, pretending that he didn't just think that. At any rate, he could blame his wayward thoughts on his state of absolute madness, caused by the fact that he had spent far too much time alone in this Room. However, madness was something Draco knew he would have to get used to since he had planned to spend the rest of his life here. Or at least two more years until Potter finished his schooling.
This wasn't such a bad fate really, Draco thought bracingly. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the Dark Lord anymore. His only problem was boredom.
"I hate you," Draco informed the Potter-doll that was reclining on the sofa opposite to the one Draco was sitting on. The doll merely stared back at Draco blankly with its dull green eyes, smiling an infuriatingly happy smile that made it look a bit mental. "You're ugly. And your glasses are even uglier. And your hair is stupid." The doll just stared unresponsively, though Draco could have sworn that it was inwardly mocking him. "And you smell funny," Draco sniffed. "And —"
A sudden noise to his left made Draco leap from the sofa to stare in shock at the great wooden door. After all, that door hadn't existed until now. The door-handle rattled and Draco quickly took out his wand. Clearly, he wasn't as safe here as he had thought; someone had found him.
Draco wasn't sure how long he had been in here, but it seemed like weeks. He should have realized that eventually someone would figure out where he was and they would find a way to get inside the Room.
The door-handle shook again and Draco gulped, very worried. This could have been Potter. And quite possibly he was here to murder Draco. Or laugh at him. And Draco didn't know which one of these two possibilities was worse.
He gripped his wand tighter and stared at the door while frantically going through his options. There weren't many of them. In fact, there were only two — he could face Potter, or he could truly spend the rest of his days in this room. Both scenarios seemed very unappealing.
Of course, there was another possibility that Draco had entertain himself with while cut off from the rest of the world, and slowly approaching insanity. Maybe, just maybe, Potter would find this situation intriguing. Draco was an excellent kisser, and surely Potter had swooned at least a little when Draco had graced him with a kiss. Sure, Potter would be mad, since the kiss was forced upon him, and he might decide to punish Draco. Perhaps, Draco's breath hitched at the thought, Potter would tie him up and molest him. Which would be horrible, of course. Simply horrible. But not as horrible as dying.
Draco would simply have to suffer through that appalling ordeal. He would lie back and be very bored and unhappy while Potter used his body in any way he wished. Actually, now that he thought about it, Draco could offer such an arrangement. He could let Potter fuck him as a form of an apology. How could Potter possibly refuse that? Why, Draco was ready to suck Potter off right now, if that meant Potter wouldn't kill him. He was prepared for a long-standing commitment even. If Potter wanted to fuck Draco on a daily basis for a couple of months, or perhaps one-hundred times to make up for one-hundred fantasies, Draco thought he ought to allow that. He would simply do what he had to do to survive.
The more Draco thought about this, the more certain he was that this was the proper way of handling things. This was a prudent and cunning plan. He should have thought of it sooner.
Determined, Draco raised his wand and murmured a quiet unlocking charm. The door sprang open and a dark-haired person of the wrong gender burst inside. Disappointed, Draco sat back down on the sofa and sulked.
"I'm not speaking to you," he informed an exasperated looking Pansy.
Pansy sighed and sat next to Draco, wringing her hands together and fidgeting nervously. "Draco, I'm really sorry," she said earnestly, but Draco was much too annoyed to accept the apology. He crossed his arms on his chest and continued to sulk. "I didn't know this would happen," Pansy bemoaned. "I thought I was doing you a favour."
Draco shook his head incredulously; offended that Pansy treated this obvious act of betrayal as something he ought to appreciate. "What possessed you to touch my stuff? My personal belongings?" he asked and shuddered at the thought of anyone going through his trunk. There were things there that could be considered ... incriminating. Pansy opened her mouth and Draco quickly raised his hand to silence her. "No. Never mind. I don't want to hear how very worried you were about poor little me. If this is your way of helping people, I'd rather you try to hinder me in the future."
"But I really did want to help!" Pansy argued, sniffing and letting her bottom lip wobble. Her eyes, however, were completely dry, prompting Draco to roll his eyes at Pansy's poor acting skills. He believed her when she said she was sorry, but he knew she wasn't as sorry as to start crying over this. Pansy continued to explain, pausing to sniff occasionally. "All you'd been doing lately was fantasising about Potter. Even your grades had suffered, Draco. And more importantly, it was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. I didn't even know that you were capable of generating that much drool —"
"All right, enough of that!" Draco hurried to interrupt. "That's not even my biggest problem with your behaviour. What I want to know is why haven't you stopped me when you saw what I was doing? I bet you just sat there and laughed with everyone else," Draco accused, honestly hurt.
Pansy shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't laugh. Much," she added quietly and then hurried on as Draco spluttered. "I just didn't realise you were so far gone that you couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy. I thought, well ..." Pansy smiled suddenly, even though she sounded tentative when she declared, "I thought you've decided to forget about the stupid Charms and confess Potter your true feelings."
Draco gaped at his friend, completely horrified. "Confess? My what?"
"I thought you would tell him that you're in love with him, of course." Pansy cocked her head, the corner of her mouth twitching.
Draco stopped breathing, feeling as though Pansy had just punched him in the stomach. "Excuse me?" he gasped, his voice sounding much too high-pitched. "How could you even ...? When have I ever ...? In love?"
Pansy looked heavenward and then directed her gaze at the grinning Potter-doll that still lay on the nearby sofa.
"Oh dear, you're right. How could I even suggest such an atrocity? It seems as though I'm lacking evidence," Pansy deadpanned.
"No, no! Wait!" Draco panicked, wishing the doll to disappear, but the Room refused to listen as though it doubted his request. "That doll was an accident," Draco said firmly, nodding his head violently. "I was just upset and used it to vent and —"
Pansy covered her ears. "Oh Merlin! Please, don't tell me!" she cried.
"Pansy," Draco growled, "I was just bored and —" Pansy whimpered, and Draco fell silent, deciding he shouldn't say anything else on the matter since he seemed to be making things worse. "Would you stop that? I just needed to talk to someone. I've been here for weeks!" Draco whined, wanting sympathy not these ludicrous accusations thrown at him. "And I'm not in love with Potter," he remembered to add quickly.
Pansy lowered her hands and frowned. "Draco, you've barely been here a day. It's Saturday evening. You've missed Hogsmeade, you know."
"Well it seemed much longer," Draco argued. "And who cares about Hogsmeade? Oh I bet Potter does. I bet he went there with someone, a girlfriend, of course, and they spent their day talking about how evil and insane I am." Draco gave Pansy an inconspicuous sidelong glance. "Right?"
Pansy shrugged. "As far as I know, Potter doesn't have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend."
"What do I care about that?" Draco snapped, though he felt a bit better now.
Giving Draco an annoyed look, Pansy still managed to sound gentle when she said, "I think it's time you come out."
"Pansy, I told you, I'm not in love with Potter and I'm not gay —"
"Come out of the Room, Draco," Pansy sniggered.
"I'm fine here, thank you," Draco assured, sniffing a little. He wasn't really fine here. This place was incredibly boring, Potter-doll notwithstanding. But who knew what would happen when Draco showed his face to everyone. Would they laugh at him? Or would they do something even worse? Draco cleared his throat and dared to ask the question that troubled him. "What happened after I left?"
Pansy made a face and looked away. "Well, everyone attacked me, demanding to know what the hell happened. So I stuck to your — very lame — story. I told them you had lost a bet and you had to kiss Potter."
"Did anyone believe you?"
"I think a couple of people actually did; those that haven't seen what happened. But well, most of them ..." Pansy looked miserable. "They don't know about the Daydream Charms so they just drew conclusions from what they have seen. So they think you have a thing for Potter." Draco whimpered and hid his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Draco. I really am." Pansy patted him on the back before adding, "Oh and McGonagall is looking for you. I think she wants to give you a detention. Or ask for a kiss."
As Pansy laughed at her own words, Draco turned his head to give her a glare, but he ignored Pansy's teasing in favour of asking what he wanted to know the most. "What about Potter? He didn't believe the bet story, did he?"
"Potter has yet to show signs of life. He still looks pretty much like this." Pansy indicated the doll. "Well, minus the creepy smile. But," Pansy hesitated for a moment. "I did find out something of interest. Potter, Granger and Weasley disappeared from Hogsmeade today. I know because I've looked for them. When I finally found them, I've eavesdropped, naturally, and I heard them talking about Weasley's brothers and Wizard Whizzy Weasels or something. Isn't that where you bought the Charms?" Draco nodded, mortified. "Well, Weasley went on and on about how his brothers were surely lying and they shouldn't listen to them, so I think this means they've probably went to Diagon Alley. Which isn't allowed so I've reported my suspicions to Professor Snape, of course. I'm sure he'll punish them." Pansy paused to grin evilly. "Anyway, Weasley and Granger looked very upset. I think they've realised — well, I suppose Granger did — that you bought those Daydream Charms."
"And Potter?" Draco asked quickly. He dreaded to think what Potter must have felt like when he found out about this product and that Draco had willingly and happily bought it.
"I've told you." Pansy pointed at the doll again. "He's no longer in the world of the living." Pansy smiled brightly. "You know, there's a positive side to this. Apparently, you've single-handedly disabled Potter. With a kiss and a grope. Considering your family is not exactly in the Dark Lord's favour, this might rectify that." Pansy frowned, deflating. "Or it might make him really mad. What with you being in love with —"
Draco narrowed his eyes and mercifully, Pansy pressed her lips together and did not finish the thought.
"Come on," she sighed, but looked determined. "It's past curfew. There's no one around to mock you. You can't stay here. You'll have to face everyone eventually and suffer through their teasing. I'm sure people will forget about this soon." Pansy bit her lip. "Probably not very soon, though. Personally, I'll never forget it. Potter's expression; Weasley's expression when you grabbed Potter's arse. Oh you should have seen it, Draco, I thought he would faint. And that strange little person with a camera took so many photos. I thought he'd cream his pants, he looked so ecstatic. And I've heard that Professor Snape actually vomited into Professor Sprout's hat —"
"You're not helping, Pansy," Draco growled and then paled. "Wait. Photos?"
"Oh yes. The kid was selling them. A Galleon per photo. Two Galleons for the one where you tried to unzip Potter's trousers." She smiled, looking wistful. "The kid made a fortune before McGonagall confiscated them all. Don't know what she's done with them." Pansy waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"Urgh," Draco groaned, seriously contemplation hitting himself with a Memory Charm. Or just with a random vase. The minute he thought that, a random vase helpfully appeared beside him. "I'm staying here," he decided, pouting. "Forever."
"No, you're not." Pansy grabbed Draco's hand and yanked him up. "You're being ridiculous and childish. Now, if you'll be a good boy and come back with me to the Common Room, I'll let you keep your doll."
Draco freed his hand forcefully and scowled. "Stop that."
Pansy smirked. "You know, Draco, that doll looks much too happy. What on earth have you done to it? Or with it?"
"It's also quite surprisingly naked ..."
"Fine!" Draco snapped. "I'll go with you, just shut up about the bloody doll!"
Pansy grinned, walking towards the door, and then waiting for Draco to exit first as though she was worried Draco would trick her somehow. However, Draco was much too tired and miserable to fight Pansy further, so he just grumbled at her.
"Don't look so sour," Pansy instructed. "You can play the I'm-not-in-love-with-Potter-but-I-want-to-stare-at-his-naked-body-for-hours game in your own room."
Draco stormed past Pansy, stomping his feet excessively until he remembered that they should keep quiet lest Filch catches them. Apparently, Draco had earned himself one detention already; he did not need another one.
Thankfully, Pansy followed Draco in silence, and they quickly but carefully made their way towards the Slytherin Common Room. They peeked behind every corner and paused at every suspicious sound in fear of Mrs Norris. But luck seemed to be on their side tonight, and Draco supposed that that was only fair; he had been through enough trouble these last two days.
They were nearing Potions Classroom when Pansy let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh you're lucky no one has caught us. I've risked myself looking for you, you know."
"This was all your fault in the first place!" Draco whispered back, annoyed that Pansy had apparently forgotten that small fact.
"It's hardly my fault that you're crushing on Potter."
Draco paused in front of the Potions Classroom and faced Pansy, levelling a glare at her. "For the last time, Pansy, I am not crushing on — Potter?"
Draco gasped, horrified as the door beside him swung open and a dark figure grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him inside the shadowy classroom. It all happened much too fast and by the time Draco's mind caught up with the events, the classroom door were closed shut, and Draco was trapped between the cold wall and a warm body.
It was dark inside, but not so dark Draco couldn't recognize the person who held him captive. It was definitely Potter.
Draco quickly reached for his wand only to realize that it was missing. Potter grinned, for a moment looking creepily similar to Draco's recently acquired Potter-doll, and then he raised his hand, waving Draco's wand around. He pointed it at the door, and the loud banging sounds, which Draco hadn't really registered until now, stopped abruptly. Draco hoped that Pansy would do the smart thing and would go and get help.
Though it was likely that help would arrive too late. Potter's expression suggested he meant business. And that business was probably murder. Or disfiguration of Draco's fair features. That was worrying indeed, but when Potter discarded Draco's wand and reached into his own pocket, taking out a familiar colourful package, all Draco wished for was that Potter would just hurry up and kill him already to spare him further embarrassment. Draco did not want to discuss his fantasies with Potter under any circumstances. Death would be preferable.
However, instead of cursing Draco into next week, Potter grinned and his eyes twinkled in obvious amusement. If Draco didn't know better, he would think that Potter wasn't even upset. Which could mean that Potter had decided to strike Draco where it hurt the most — he would ridicule him instead of curse him.
Just as Draco mentally prepared himself for more humiliation, Potter said the most unexpected thing Draco could imagine.
His breath was hot against Draco's lips when he whispered, "Tell me something, Malfoy." Potter grinned even wider. "You didn't read the small print on this thing, did you?"
Draco stood frozen and completely nonplussed. He hadn't exactly read what the Daydream Charms packages said, barring the catchy captions, of course. But in Draco's humble opinion, right now, Potter's cryptic statement was the least of his worries. Whatever Potter planned to do or say, it would most certainly be unfavourable for Draco. Therefore Draco's priority was to escape. And that would be difficult, since Potter held him pinned to the wall with his body, and Draco's wand had been tossed somewhere into the dark classroom.
Draco assessed his situation. Potter was standing with his legs spread, holding Draco's own legs captive with his thighs while his right hand gripped Draco's arm almost painfully. His lips were so close to Draco's, it seemed as though he planned to kiss him instead of abuse him. So really, there was only one thing Draco could do. However, that was potentially an embarrassing way of getting out of his current predicament. Draco winced at the mere thought of it, but he was left with no other alternative.
He leaned forward, almost pressing his lips to Potter's, and almost forgetting his plan when Potter gasped and widened his eyes, clearly not expecting this move.
Draco determinedly pushed his sudden, irrational desires away, and moved his lips against Potter's. "I don't give a fuck about your damn small print," he whispered angrily and then brought his leg sharply upwards, slamming his thigh into Potter's balls.
Potter yelped loudly and stumbled backwards, cursing and holding his groin. Freed, Draco leapt towards the place where he thought Potter threw his wand away. It was dark and Draco kept tripping over various chairs and he hit himself more than once on long wooden desks, but he didn't give up. Instead, he searched frantically for his wand, aware that without it he wouldn't be able to open the door.
Potter finally stopped cursing and instead he whispered a vaguely familiar incantation. Draco felt a whoosh of magic and then all the candles around the room were lit, giving him much desired light.
"You're very helpful," Draco praised, immediately spotting his wand a few feet away. He leapt towards it and grabbed it, but the wand was meanly yanked out of his hands and flew towards Potter, who caught it with ease. Draco seethed and glared, more annoyed than scared now. "I hate you," he fumed. "What the fuck do you want? Just leave me alone!"
Potter's face was red, presumably from both anger and pain, but he still managed to grin. The bastard. He held his and Draco's wand in his hand, looking smug. Draco stared at his wand wistfully.
"You wouldn't have hexed me anyway," Potter declared confidently.
Draco shook his head, incredulous. "Want to bet?"
Potter cocked his head, his mouth stretching into a wider smile. "Depends. When you lose, will you kiss me again?"
"Oh you're funny. Hilarious," Draco grumbled, disturbed by Potter's behaviour. What was the git playing at? He was much too calm, considering the circumstances.
Potter raised his eyebrow and then tossed Draco's wand. It shot towards Draco and he caught it effortlessly. Disbelieving, but not stupid enough to question his luck, he pointed his wand at Potter and sneered.
"Dumb Gryffindor. Now you're mine."
"Oh? Give me your best shot," Potter said unconcernedly, tucking his wand away.
Draco's sneer faltered and he stared at Potter in confusion.
"Whenever you're ready," Potter said after a minute, sounding excessively bored. "Hexing me is the only way you'll get out of this classroom. Or, well, we could talk."
"Talk?" Draco huffed, inwardly annoyed with himself because hexing Potter proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. The words just wouldn't come to him. "I don't want to talk to you, Potter. I don't want to see you. I don't want to kiss you and I most certainly don't want to shag you, if that's what you had in mind. If that little grope in the Hall made you all hot and bothered, you can't just forget about the repeat performance ...?" Draco scowled, upset that his little rant ended up sounding like a question when it was meant to be a firm statement.
Potter was biting his lip, looking delighted and clearly trying not to laugh, though for the life of him, Draco couldn't fathom what was funny.
"You really haven't read the small —"
"Oh would you shut up about the bloody small print!" Draco yelled, annoyed. "What does it say — I'll go bald if I use the Charms too much?" Draco paled. "It doesn't say that, does it?" he breathed, worried.
Potter laughed heartily. "No, that's not what it says. It says something that could be much more embarrassing for you." Potter's eyes twinkled again, or perhaps that was merely some strange play of candlelight, but Draco nonetheless decided that Potter was one mean bastard. Clearly, he had decided to humiliate Draco further. "Look, Malfoy —"
"No, you look," Draco interrupted quickly, and then took a deep breath. He was determined to minimize the damage, and if saying sorry was what it took he would do it. "Yes, fine. I bought the damn Special One Hundred Fantasies Set and yes, I used it. A lot. I did it because ... I did it —"
"For a laugh?" Potter suggested helpfully.
"Yes! Exactly!" Draco exclaimed in triumph. "And yesterday I was ... uh ... Daydreaming — that's capitalized, mind you, I wasn't daydreaming about you. As if! This was different. This was the Charm's doing," Draco paused, mortified. "Well, obviously it wasn't, but I thought it was and that's the important part. I was just confused and I made a mistake and I'm ... I'm so ... I —"
"Don't strain yourself," Potter commented dryly.
"It wasn't even my fault!" Draco snapped, forgetting his apology. "It was Pansy's fault. She destroyed my fantasies!" Draco growled as Potter laughed, making Draco realize how that statement sounded. "Shut up!" Draco waved his wand threateningly. "If you really want to blame someone, then blame those nasty twins. They were the ones that thought of this. I'm just a consumer, not an inventor. A very displeased consumer," he added resentfully.
"I'm afraid I can't blame the inventors. I think they're brilliant."
"Oh that's right. We can't blame Saint Weasleys, let's blame the evil Slytherin! That's just rich, Potter," Draco raged. "Well, there's nothing you can do to me. I haven't done anything wrong. You can't forbid me to fantasize. I don't need the stupid Charms. I can do it myself, thank you very much. Look!" Draco closed his eyes and sneered. "See, I'm doing it right now. I'm picturing you naked." Draco gasped. "Oh my, your prick is so small. And oh, now you're wearing a pink skirt! And, and look, you've just bent over and spread your ..." Draco's eyes flew open when he realized that Potter was laughing himself silly.
Tears of mirth ran down Potter's cheeks as he clutched his sides. "You're ... very entertaining," Potter breathed, trying to calm himself unsuccessfully.
"Glad to be of service." Draco sulked, lowering his wand.
Potter tilted his head, sobering up and then moving closer to Draco.
"Stay where you are!" Draco raised his wand again, gripping it tighter, but Potter completely ignored Draco's threat.
"There's something you should know," Potter said seriously. "You didn't buy the Special One Hundred Fantasies Set, starring me."
Draco frowned, taken aback once again. Potter's oddness had no limits. But well, if Potter wanted to believe that, who was Draco to defy him? "Of course I didn't," Draco agreed promptly. "I was only joking. Why would I buy such a thing?"
Unperturbed, Potter came even closer, making Draco's wand-arm shake. But he just couldn't bring himself to hex the smug bastard.
"You really didn't," Potter continued. "You bought the Special Fantasies Set: If you have your own scheme, add a bit of reality to your dream." Potter grinned. "Small print: The title and image above will display the person you —" Potter's cheeks coloured and he cleared his throat. "The person you want the most," Potter said quietly, as something horrible twisted Draco's insides. He didn't even dared to think about the certain word that rhymed with above. Potter's voice was much too low for normal conversation when he added, "Even finer print ..." He looked at the package in his hand, reading out loud. "This set will merely liven up your pre-existing fantasies; it will not create them. The makers aren't responsible for your lack of imagination. The number and quality of the Daydreams reflect your mind; therefore if you're an uninspired prude, we offer no refund. The upper limit of the number of Daydreams is one-hundred. The lower limit is one. The low number of Daydreams has no bearing on the price."
Draco shook his head in denial, horrified beyond belief. "No," he croaked. This wasn't true. It couldn't have been true. Because if it was then this would mean Draco didn't just randomly stumbled upon a Harry Potter fantasies set. It would mean that Pansy was right, and Draco was in love with Potter. Without knowing it! But Pansy was never right and if she was the world would end choking itself on the absurdity. But the world hadn't ended so clearly Potter was making this whole thing up.
"You're lying," Draco said decidedly.
"No, I'm really not. I just bought a set today myself." Potter waved the package around.
"Then the Weasleys are lying. Maybe you did buy this incomplete set, but I bought the real thing. They've tricked you." Draco nodded. "How awful of them. You should go and hex them. Go. I'll cover for you."
Potter shook his head. "They were very upset when we've confronted them. They were appalled that we thought they would do this to me. They've even agreed to take a truth potion. Besides, it makes sense, don't you think?"
"How could this make sense? I'm not ... I don't want you, Potter!" Draco wished Potter would stop shaking; it was making him feel dizzy. Or Draco was dizzy and shaking himself. It hardly mattered, though, because the more Draco thought about it the more it seemed like the world would end after all.
"Apparently I have one-hundred arguments that say you're wrong." Potter was standing entirely too close and had cruelly breathed in all the air around them, leaving Draco to gasp and choke to death.
Draco shook his head, unable to speak. And to think that just a little while ago he had thought that the events in the Great Hall were the most humiliating thing that could have happened to him. But there was Potter now, grinning smugly and maliciously, pleased that he had discovered — or rather invented — Draco's most carefully hidden secret. Draco had always claimed that Potter was a cruel, cruel bastard; it shouldn't have been so disappointing to learn that he had been right all this time.
"I don't even like you," Draco said petulantly. "You've been deceived."
"That's what Ron said —"
"Well, it's the-wrong-people-are-right kind of day."
"— when he saw this." Potter indicated the package in his hand, and then smiled fondly. "And then he fainted."
"No wonder, if it features his sister. Urgh!" Draco covered his eyes with his left hand. "I don't want to see it either."
"I think you do," Potter said quietly, showing the package into Draco's right hand, nearly dislodging Draco's wand.
Against his better judgment, Draco peeked through his fingers and then, gasping, grabbed the package with both of his hands, not even noticing that his wand had fell onto the floor. His own face sneered and winked at him from the cover, the caption below it proclaiming: Special One Hundred Fantasies Set: Fact or a guise, Draco Malfoy sure seems mean, but we guarantee a lovely surprise, after you spread his thighs, and place yourself in between!
"You pervert!" Draco cried, spluttering, but Potter merely laughed again. "I should have known!" Draco continued his rant. "You are the one that's crushing on me! That's why you were following me around, isn't it? To enable your dirty fantasies. I bet you bought this before I did!"
Potter shook his head, and denied the accusation laughingly. "No, I really bought it today. Believe me, it was quite a shock, but not as much of a shock as it should have been." Potter's voice sounded husky again, and that more than anything gave Draco's brain a kick start. He had said the words, but he hadn't really registered their meaning — Potter was crushing on him. Potter was fantasising about him.
Potter was holding his hand.
Draco frowned, not knowing why Potter had grabbed his left hand, and he definitely had no idea why he had let Potter hold his hand.
"I was following you because I thought you were up to something devious." Potter's lips twitched as he trailed his fingertips over Draco's wrist, slowly moving them downwards, and pushing Draco's sleeve out of the way. "In a roundabout way I was right," Potter murmured. The sensitive skin of Draco's forearm was tingling, and Draco forgot about everything, only able to concentrate on the wonderful feeling that Potter's fingers were spreading. Then Potter breathed in sharply and asked, "What's this?"
Draco's eyelashes fluttered and he took a moment to come to his senses, and then he looked down at the small white scar that marred his skin.
"Um. I had an accident. With a peacock. Long story. Never mind."
Potter flashed him a bright smile that lit up the room more brilliantly than the flickering candles.
"It's a long, but a very sad story, you know," Draco claimed, a bit put out. "Now get back to what you were doing." Realizing what he had said, and remembering that just a second ago he had been annoyed with Potter, Draco cleared his throat. "I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"
"I'm planning to kiss you actually," Potter said promptly, his gaze flickering towards Draco's lips. Draco licked his dry lips nervously, convinced that he ought to think negatively of Potter's plan, but he just couldn't remember of any reason against it. It sounded like a fabulous plan to Draco.
Potter yanked Draco's arm, pulling him stumbling forward, the awkwardness of the moment forcing Draco to remember that this situation had been very awkward mere moments ago. Potter was under the impression that Draco fancied him and that simply wasn't true. Well, that wasn't true if Potter didn't fancy him back. If he did, then maybe it was true. Draco still clutched the Daydream Charm package in his hand — supposedly a written proof that Potter had a crush on him, but what if the Charms were lying?
"We shouldn't just believe these Charms," Draco whispered because he couldn't make his voice be louder. Potter's face was distractingly close to his; so close, their noses were touching.
"I agree," Potter whispered back conspiratorially, as though they were trying to be quiet so the Charms wouldn't hear them. And then his breath hitched a little, and he moved even closer, touching his lips to Draco's. The warm, soft pressure made Draco feel terrified because he realized that somehow he had forgotten how to kiss! Should he move his lips, his tongue, his head, his hands? Should he breathe? All this sounded very complicated.
But then Potter tilted his head, the tip of his tongue brushing over Draco's bottom lip, and Draco stopped worrying. It was much more important to pull Potter's tongue into his mouth, and pull Potter's body even closer, though that last bit proved to be impossible. Draco had wrapped his arms around Potter's waist and tried to pull him in, but Potter was too close already; his chest was pressed snugly against Draco's, and if Draco wanted him closer he would have to tuck Potter into his pants, which admittedly, didn't sound like a bad idea even if it was a complicated one.
Potter pulled his head back a little, his hands tangled into Draco's hair, clearly determined to turn Draco into Potter's blond, messy-haired twin.
"I believe this," Potter breathed, but Draco had no idea what he was talking about. He had agreed, however, with a long reflective and intelligent sentence that came out sounding like a loud humming sound, because Draco's mouth was unwilling to pause the Potter-kissing for something as trivial as conversation. Though maybe Potter was the one humming contentedly deep in his throat, or maybe Draco's ears were buzzing; it was difficult to concentrate on anything while Potter's tongue diligently explored Draco's mouth.
"Lower," Potter panted hotly between kisses.
Draco spent long, busy minutes puzzling over that one, but it was of no use. Potter's ramblings just weren't as important as the little twists of Potter's tongue that had a magical ability to curl Draco's toes. Besides, kissing Potter was of utmost importance. After all, as previously established, Potter had captured all the air in the room, but now he was ever so kindly sharing and it would be imprudent not to accept this kindness as the lifesaver it was.
"Hands," Potter instructed, grabbing Draco's hair tighter and forcibly tilting his head so he could melt Draco's insides with a scorching kiss. And that was fine; he didn't really need those insides, Draco thought fuzzily.
It was only after Potter had ceased his assault and Draco was happily nibbling on Potter's lips that Draco had a sudden epiphany and he broke Potter's ingenious secret code, realizing that lower hands meant Draco should lower his hands. So he did just that, squeezing Potter's behind through his cloak and trousers and pants. That was too many layers of clothing, but it still felt nice.
Potter definitely agreed with that assessment because he growled and pushed Draco with his body, walking him backwards, intent on running him over. Draco would have fell and let himself be trampled on, but his arse hit the edge of a random desk. Or perhaps the desk wasn't as random since it seemed much too high for a regular desk; it was probably Snape's desk and that was very amusing, but at the same time very wrong.
There was no time to worry about that because Potter shoved his leg between Draco's thighs and Draco was gripped with a sudden, immature urge to claim that Potter was now in for a lovely surprise, but Draco ended up the one gasping for air. Potter placed his leg perfectly and then moved it just so, prompting Draco to close his eyes to stop himself from crying out. The loud sound escaping past his lips, made him conclude that he should have closed his mouth instead.
But it was a good thing that he hadn't closed his mouth because the pale skin of Potter's neck was exposed and right there, near Draco's lips. Draco barely managed to press his lips to the Potter-flavoured, soft skin and inhale the scent of Potter's shampoo, when his hair was grabbed and his head was pulled back. And then Potter was kissing Draco's neck and that was wonderful, but slightly vexing because this neck-kissing business was Draco's idea and Potter had viciously stolen it.
But Potter seemed displeased about something too; his hands seized the collar of Draco's shirt, pulling on it sharply.
"It's stuck," Potter whined, panting hotly against Draco's ear. Draco thought he ought to explain Potter about buttons, but it seemed much more important to clutch Potter's arse and help him move his leg in that perfect way that made Draco feel dizzy. Though dizziness was becoming a problem and Draco was starting to lose his bearings as Potter declared war on his shirt. It was fortunate that Potter was the chosen hero because he had successfully defeated his nemesis by popping out two top buttons, and then he celebrated his victory by biting down on Draco's collarbone. Draco commemorated the occasion with a moan.
Potter continued to bite his neck and then peppered tiny kisses over the stinging skin in apology, as though he couldn't quite decide whether he wanted to be rough or really, really gentle. It was impossible for Draco to determine which treatment he preferred, though he figured he shouldn't allow Potter to mark his neck with love bites. He threw his head back, baring his throat, which was in odds with his no-love-bites desires, but it hardly mattered when the desk beneath Draco seemed to have disappeared and Draco was floating, suspended in midair, feeling nothing but Potter's ever-moving leg.
As his orgasm rushed forward, Draco remembered that this was the point where he usually woke up. This was how his dreams always ended. So it was very important not to come, and Draco tried to tell Potter to stop moving, but instead, he just screamed as pleasure shot through his body.
He slowly came down from where he had been flying; the desk appeared beneath him again, digging uncomfortably into his behind. He opened his eyes, feeling wet stickiness spreading inside his pants, but his discomfort was forgotten when he realized that Potter was still here, panting and kissing and straddling Draco's thigh, his cock hard and hot even through their clothing.
"This is real," Draco breathed, unbelievably happy all of a sudden.
Potter said something incoherent, pressing a sloppy wet kiss to Draco's chin.
"I need ..." Potter managed, but couldn't finish his thought. But Draco was now lucid enough to figure out what Potter needed. The angle under which Potter was rubbing his crotch against Draco's leg wasn't as fortunate as Draco's had been, and Draco thought he should stand up or something. Or he could do something else. Something more interesting.
"I've hit you," Draco recalled.
"Mmm. Awful," Potter agreed, punishing Draco with a heated kiss. Which was a silly move on Potter's part and, in the long run, could only serve as further encouragement for Draco.
"I should ..." Draco gasped when his mouth was freed. "Kiss and make it better?"
He wasn't sure why he was offering such a thing, but it seemed fair to reward Potter since Potter was kind enough to be real.
For a second it seemed like Potter hadn't heard him, but then he stopped his movements abruptly and stepped back, staring at Draco with wide eyes, his mouth opened in a way that would be comical if it hadn't been endearing.
"Oh." Potter blinked, and than smiled that ridiculously brilliant smile that made Draco happy he had suggested this. "Okay." Potter unzipped his trousers in a second, but his brain had failed him then, and he didn't seem to know how to get his cock out of his boxers.
"Here," Draco soothed, grabbing Potter's hips and spinning him around so Potter was the one pressed against the desk. Shaking for some irrational reason, Draco knelt on the floor, slowly pulling Potter's trousers and boxers down to his thighs.
He gulped when Potter's cock was revealed, thick and hard, and not as long as in Draco's fantasies, but perfect nonetheless. Draco touched it tentatively, just brushed against it lightly with his fingertips, but Potter still reacted, breathing in sharply.
"'s warm," Draco murmured, closing his hand around it, not really sure why he had said that. He meant to say it was nice, but that sounded silly.
"'s nice," Potter gasped and Draco was very pleased that they understood one another. Potter squirmed restlessly and Draco realized that he had been staring and not kissing as promised. With a grin, Draco cocked his head and moved it closer to Potter's body, pressing a gentle kiss to the place he had hit recently.
"Better?" he asked cheekily, looking up at Potter through his lashes.
"Yeah," Potter breathed reverently, as though Draco had done something spectacular. Apparently, the concept of teasing was completely lost on Potter. Amused, Draco decided that Potter needed a more direct approach, so he stuck out his tongue, licking the thick vein on the underside of Potter's cock, ending the long lick on the tip where he delicately tasted the glistening pre-come with a swirl of his tongue.
Potter made a series of garbled sounds, but when Draco closed his mouth around the head of his cock, Potter was quite clearly chanting, "Fuckfuckfuck." And that was what spurred Draco on in spite of the bitter, salty taste that filled his mouth. He had never heard Potter say fuck before. Well maybe he did, but he had certainly never heard him say it like that. Potter sounded like he was losing control and was about to break.
Fascinated by the sounds and occasional curses that spilled out of Potter's mouth, Draco tried to do something more, so he swirled his tongue and then he tried to suck, though he wished he hadn't because he ended up slurping loudly. He was probably doing this whole thing wrong, but Potter didn't seem to mind. Draco didn't mind either; the warm weight felt wonderful on his tongue and the taste, which wasn't wonderful at all, made Draco want more against his own better judgment.
"Fuck, I'm gonna ... Malfoy."
Draco should have known what that meant, he should have, but he was much more concerned about what he should do with his teeth. He knew what he shouldn't do, but he didn't know how to stop them from scraping the sensitive skin in his mouth. Soon it didn't matter though, because Draco's mouth were filled with salty stickiness. Surprised, Draco's first instinct was to spit it out, but that seemed terribly rude so he tired to swallow it and spit it out at the same time. Of course, that couldn't have worked, so Draco ended up choking and spluttering, the come coating his cheeks and chin.
"Oh. Fuck," Potter declared, his body shivering and his hands tangled in Draco's hair again, caressing frantically. "Oh!" Potter gasped again, his speech clearly reduced to single syllables. Draco looked up to see Potter staring, amazed, at his own spunk that was splattered over Draco's face.
Blushing, Draco quickly tried to wipe it off with his hands and Potter helpfully brushed some of it with his fingers.
"Sorry." Potter smiled sheepishly, obviously not sorry. "That was ... Oh God!" Potter cried out and it took Draco a second to work out that Potter wasn't praising Draco's amazing blowjob skills. Instead, he was staring at the door that had produced a loud bang before they flew open.
Horrified, Draco sprang up, wiping his face and trying to straighten his ruined shirt as Potter pulled his trousers up, both of them blushing furiously.
It's just Pansy! It's just Pansy! Draco chanted in his mind, hoping that if he thought that enough times, it would become true. Turning around, Draco saw two pairs of feet near the door. One pair definitely belonged to Pansy and the other to whomever Pansy had brought with her, and Draco could have easily concluded who that was so there was no need to look up.
"Miss Parkinson, you told me Draco was in mortal danger," Professor Snape said quietly, sounding very odd. "However unfortunate his position was, I'm afraid it won't kill him. I wish I could say the same for myself."
Draco dared to look up at Professor's pale face, distorted with obvious aversion, just as Potter said, "Um. Professor, we were just ..."
"Spare me, Potter!" Snape held up his hand. "This is another detention you've earned yourself today. For being out of bed past curfew. Points will be taken from your House when I determine the extent of my trauma."
Potter sulked and Draco was suddenly upset after seeing Potter's bottom lip stuck out like that.
"But, Professor —" he tried to argue on Potter's behalf, but Snape cut him off.
"Detention for you as well, Draco," Snape said cruelly.
"For what?" Draco spluttered. He had been outside his Common Room after curfew before, and Snape had never given him detention.
"For abysmal lack of taste," Snape said, actually shuddering a little.
Draco would have liked to argue that Potter tasted very well, thank you, but he managed to keep silent on that matter. Instead, he tried to appease Snape before he did the unimaginable and took points from the Slytherin House. "We'll go to bed now, sir. I promise," he said demurely.
Snape paled, making Draco wish the ground would open and swallow him. "Thank you for that vital piece of information, Draco." Snape looked at Pansy's head as though regretting the fact that she wasn't wearing a hat. "Potter, you may start scrubbing this classroom now," Snape declared, before sweeping out of the room, his face turning increasingly greener.
"I can't believe he just left us here," Potter said in wonder after a few moments.
Draco nodded in agreement as Pansy grinned. "He has a date with a bucket, I think," she said happily, her gaze dancing between Potter and Draco. She seemed very pleased with herself.
Draco narrowed his eyes, glaring at her.
"Oh don't mind me," Pansy said quickly, but as Draco continued to glare, she relented. "Fine, I'll leave. But I was rescuing you, you ungrateful prat." She stepped out of the classroom, throwing a final I-was-right sort of look in Draco's direction and saying, "I'll be a good girl and go and find some dolls to play with."
Draco closed his eyes, mortified, as Potter commented, "Weird, that one."
"Don't know what she's on about," Draco agreed.
"Here," Potter whispered, suddenly standing next Draco. He brushed his thumb against Draco's cheek, making him realize that he probably had some spunk there.
"Some days I just shouldn't get out of bed," Draco said sadly.
"It's not all bad, is it?" Potter murmured. Draco opened his eyes to see Potter smiling his crazily infectious smile.
"I suppose," Draco conceded, smiling and pulling Potter closer so he could kiss him.
The kiss was slow, messy and perfect and Draco forgot all about Snape and Pansy.
They've separated after several blissful moments, staring at each other in wonder.
"Now what?" Draco asked, whishing he hadn't. This was a simple question with a very complicated answer. There were just too many problems to deal with if Potter and he decided to be ... well, together. And Draco thought they had decided that. He hoped they had. But then, there were things to consider. About their friends and Draco's family. About Draco's intended career as a Death Eater. About Potter's intended career as a Saviour. About flower arrangements for Weasley's funeral. And a part of him wanted to discuss this and know the answers now, but another part of him wanted to ignore these issues for ever and ever.
However, Potter didn't seem worried, he just shrugged, grinning. "Well for starters," he said. "I have one-hundred ideas about what we could do. That should keep us occupied for a while."
Draco smiled back, pleased that the discussion of serious issues was pushed far into the future. Until then, they might figure something out. In fact, Draco was sure that they would. But for now ...
"Funny you should say that, Potter," Draco commented smugly, pressing his body closer to Potter's. "So do I."