Disclaimer: not mine, just fun.
This is based on the world of The Enemy of My Father, however, it does not effect that story unless I chose to put it in later.
Warning: Implied sex between an adult and a minor. Also, implied sex in general, and mild language. If you're not okay with that, don't read.
Something was wrong. Well, not wrong so much as not right. Harry frowned as he looked around the common room from his place sprawled across the floor with his notes for Transfiguration splayed in front of him like a particularly ugly whore; unappealing in the extreme, but he still had to do it. He looked around again, trying to figure out what was setting him on edge. What was different?
"If you're wondering, it's that Draco and Pansy aren't snogging in the corner." Blaise's drawl flowed over him, and he realized that, yes, that was what was setting him off so badly.
"Wait," Harry looked closer to the fire, "Vincent's down here though."
"Yeah." Kira's voice was vague, and if Harry bothered to look over his shoulder he knew she would still be buried in her work. "I heard Pansy talking. She wants to be Draco's first like the rest of us want to pass our O.W.L.s."
"Wait, they're..." Harry trailed off, suddenly grinning with a shudder of sympathy for his blond friend. "I'm going to go see if Draco needs help with his...Charms, yeah. I'm going to see if he needs help with Charms." He stood up, grinning at Blaise's rather wicked smile.
"Hmm. Send him my best." Blaise waved, absently returning to her essay. "He'll need it." She muttered under her breath.
Harry walked down the corridor, slowly but surely making his way to Draco's room. Grinning, he placed his ear against the door and listened. If he guessed right the feeling of something strange going on had started about an hour before, and sure enough what he heard from beyond the closed door was the distinctly unsatisfied murmurings of a post-coital argument about ways, means and orgasms...or lack thereof.
Harry knocked. There was a screech of rage, then the storming footsteps of a light body moving across the floor. The door opened, revealing a furious Pansy Parkinson.
"What do you want?" Her voice was brittle with fury.
"Well," Harry leaned against the partially open door, wrenching it out of her surprised arm so that it crashed against the wall and he could see Draco, dressed, on his bed with a stormy look on his face. "Draco has been having a few problems with his Charms work, and I thought I might give him a hand." The pure arrogance on Harry's face was utter farce, as was the amazingly stupid drawl he used, courtesy of comparing how Professor Snape, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy talked and then combining the three.
"And you had to come up here now?" Pansy shrieked. "The door was closed! You couldn't have taken the hint and come back later?"
"I did knock." Harry looked over at Draco. "After all, Draco does leave the door closed unless he's going through it." He lowered his eyelids, letting the lashes obscure his vision as he turned his eyes back to Pansy.
Pansy let out another ear-destroying shriek and started ranting at him, screaming about this and that. He caught "inconsiderate boys," "stupid glasses" and "born in a barn" along with a whole host of curse words that people really weren't supposed to use in polite company,- not that he was being polite company at the moment. Finally Pansy got fed up, and stormed past him, her bag jumping to her hand just in time to attempt to hit him in the stomach.
"Pansy? Really?" A questioning eyebrow was raised as Harry closed Draco's door after the girl disappeared down the hall, stepping forward the four paces to pull out a chair and straddle it, facing Draco. "I mean, I know she's been hanging all over you since first year, but did she have to be your first? You could do so much better than that."
"So, who was your first then?" Draco was sprawled backwards on his bed, feet kicking his pillow absently, his body definitely showing signs of recent release, but his face scowling. Across the room Vincent was just settling down at his desk, a Transfiguration text open in front of him. He had followed Harry, or perhaps Pansy's voice, arriving just in time to catch the tail-end of Pansy's tirade.
"Ever?" Harry shrugged. "Your father."
There was a moment of complete silence.
"Fuck you Potter." Draco shoved himself into a sitting position.
"I prefer females, Draco, but if you insist," Harry leaned forward and fluttered his eyes, "top or bottom?"
Draco stared, his eyes locked on Harry's.
"You're not joking." It wasn't a question.
"No." Harry didn't even blink while he spoke.
"What the hell?" Draco's voice hadn't recovered and was still very, very blank.
"I was curious." Harry shrugged nonchalantly, making a mental note not to tell Draco who his first female had been.
"Curious." Draco seemed to be trying to start his brain again. "Why not me then?" Draco said blankly.
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.
"Draco," his voice cracked through the now pouting visage of his friend, "until today you'd never had sex before."
"So?" Yup. Definitely pouting.
"So I wasn't interested in inept bumblings." Harry straightened his back, still leaning on his arms. "I wanted to know what sex with an experienced partner was like. Your father is absolutely gorgeous, and very, very experienced. He's a real man." Harry now had a slightly dreamy expression on his face.
"Truly, he's a master at-"
"-Alright!" Draco shot up, his eyes wild. "Bloody, buggering, son of a whore, I don't need to hear this!" Harry jerked as though he'd been slapped. In a way he had. Draco's voice had snapped him out of a rather fond memory of one amazing night, leather cuffs, a topical potion that burned like ice. Lucius really was a master at the art of pleasure and pain, and he had taught Harry a great deal, not just in the bedchamber either. After all, he was the right hand of the Dark Lord. Harry licked suddenly dry lips.
"Damnit-Harry-get-out-of-my-room-right-now!" Draco's voice slapped him into reality again.
"I don't need you fantasizing about my father in my own bloody room! I sleep here!" Harry turned to leave but paused by the doorway at Draco's last comment;"and stay away from my father!"
Harry returned to the common room, a satisfied smirk on his face, and flopping back down in front of his books.
Much of the common room was staring at him, eyes not returning to their own work.
"So," Blaise drawled, her voice penetrating his irritated confusion at all the looks of- no, he wasn't going to go there. Then he realized why everyone was staring at him and his eyes widened a tiny bit.
"You all heard that last comment, didn't you?"
"You need to learn how to close doors." She said as she nodded solemnly.
"The door was closed!" Harry protested.
Suddenly, from across the room one of the older students started to clap, a slow drawling clap that lacked the usual sarcasm of such things. After a few moments others started clapping, until everyone older than about thirteen had joined the grinning accolade.
Harry smirked and got up and bowed before returning to his work. Slowly the common room settled back into the normal buzz of homework and relaxation.
"If you tell me your first female was my mother I will kill you." Draco stood in the doorway of Harry and Gregory's room...at two in the morning.
"Wasn't Draco. Go away." Harry grumbled, now very much awake and angry about it.
"You're not lying to me?" Draco didn't move.
"It was Blaise's mother. Go away. Need sleep. Really good dream." There was a choking noise, and the door closed behind the fleeing blond.
"What is his problem?" Harry asked the air after a minute.
"It's not...traditional." Gregory said from the other side of the room, his voice heavy with sleep. "Really weird actually."
"But...It makes sense!" Harry complained. "It's like everything else. Good sex is learned, not innate. Why reinvent the wheel when you can find a teacher?" Harry looked over at Gregory, whose eyes were closed, a small smirk on his face. "Don't see Daphne complaining, nor Marcus."
"Yeah. Can you blame me for being glad you and Marcus broke up?" Gregory raised himself on his elbows. "I mean yeah, Ravenclaw's better than Gryffindor, but that boy was over the top."
"True, but that fling definitely caught Daphne's attention." Harry grinned.
"Remember the silencing spells next time." Gregory grumbled. "Now can we get back to sleep."
"Not my fault." Harry said.
"Actually yes, yes it is." Gregory said, and with a twitch of curtains closed himself away from a grinning Harry.