By: Natilie Sawada
For Tiffy: Happy Birthday.
May it be full of love, saturated with smut, and two months late. I love you!
Warnings: Male/Male and explicit sexual content. Also bad language. It's M, might as well live it up, right?
Summary: Draco is a compulsive pencil tapper. Halfway through potions, Harry just can't take it anymore. Smut ensues.
A/N: Okay, I know they use quills in HP, but it just doesn't work as well with a quill, so they use pencils. Kapeesh? Also, I was inspired by rospberry's "Polishing the Broom" so I borrowed like two lines of dialogue. No harm intended. I do not own them.
I also apologize in advance for any typos/grammatical errors. It was like 2 in the morning when I finished this.
WARNING: MALE/MALE CONTENT! If you don't like it, don't read it! I don't want any flames about "this is gross" or "you're evil if you like this" or blah blah I'm closed-minded blah blah.
Now, for the rest of you sane people that think it is hot…enjoy!~
The classroom was warm and muggy, the brick dungeon walls trapping the hot steam curling from the open cauldrons scattered throughout the room on the desktops.
Harry's eyelids drooped tiredly before she shook his head, stirring himself back into complete consciousness. The effects of another sleepless night were catching up to him. Cramming for his Charm's quiz next period was, indeed, as her Hermione had reminded him numerous times before turning in herself, not a good idea. He had ended up falling asleep at his desk and waking up half an hour late for Transfiguration first hour period, sprinting through the halls, wearing the same wrinkled clothes as the night before, and forgetting half his pencils and a textbook.
The black haired teen slumped back into his seat and yawned. The late night cram session hadn't earned him anything except a detention from Professor McGonagall for tardiness and an inability to concentrate for the rest of the day.
In retrospect, he should have been studying for that quiz now, while he had the chance and his potions partner, as per horribly usual, Draco Malfoy was pouting over the potions textbook in the seat next to him, tapping his pencil obnoxiously against the desk.
"Would you stop that?" Harry sighed tiredly. The blonde peered sideways at him, smirking, before shrugging and lowering his pencil to the table top.
"Whatever you say, Potter," Malfoy spat the name at him with a sneer, again as usual, and turned his eyes back to the yellowing pages, becoming absorbed once again in the instructions on how to make today's potion. But Harry was too tired to care about his Charms quiz even, let alone what potion they were making. A potion which undoubtedly he would receive a failing grade on, regardless of the end result.
Snape paused in whatever lecture he was droning on about to ask:
"Did you have something to share with us, Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up.
"Uh…no, sir." Snape's lips pursed skeptically.
"Talking out of turn is not acceptable. Five points from Gryffindor." Harry groaned, dropping his head into his arms folded on the desk. He should've just gone back to sleep this morning.
Taptaptaptaptaptap. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed his anger, his fingers clenching the seat of his chair. This was the third time Malfoy had done that this week.
All hour. Taptaptaptaptaptap. His pale, slender fingers twirling the pencil around, rapping it against the countertop.
Harry sighed, exasperated. The sharp crack of the pencil striking the table again and again echoed loudly in the room, yet no one else's head had turned to look at Draco. Snape didn't stop talking or take notice…though that didn't tell him anything. The professor usually ignored his "star pupil's" antics anyway.
He moved his eyes back to the blonde boy beside him, wishing for a moment that he was a superhero instead of a wizard so that he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes and fry Malfoy's skull.
Draco seemed to have sensed his glare, because his eyes flicked sideways to peer at the Boy-Who-Lived. His thin lips quirked into a faint smile as his slender hand continued expertly flicking the pencil back and forth in his hand so it rapped in a rapid staccato sound on the table. Harry's hands balled into fists.
"I thought I told you to knock it off!" He exclaimed, his fists coming down on the desk sharply, resulting in a large bang. Almost everyone in a ten foot radius jumped tangibly. A few gave him questioning glances.
"Mr. Potter!" Snape's voice lashed out across the room like a striking snake. Harry flinched.
"B-but, Professor," Harry spluttered angrily, frustration welling up in his chest, "Malfoy won't stop tapping his pencil and I can't concentrate!"
"I don't know what he's talking about, Professor," the little snake sitting beside Harry purred. "Did you hear anything?"
"But Professor, you must have—" Harry started only to be interrupted.
"No, I most certainly did not! But if Mr. Potter insists on failing to contain spontaneous outbursts during my class and lying about them, I will have no choice but to award him detention."
Harry's mouth dropped open in indignation.
"And fifteen points," Snape continued as Harry closed his mouth and slumped back into his seat, steaming with fury. "Hopefully you can make it through the rest of my class without any more slip ups, Mr. Potter, or you may end up being single-handedly responsible for Gryffindor losing the house cup."
The lack of sleep and the injustice of it and his general hatred of potions and all things associated contributed to his mounting rage like gasoline to a fire. And it didn't help that he hadn't…ahem, relieved himself in over two weeks. Because of tests and Quidditch and exams, there had been no time to himself, and being sexually repressed really did not help with the "not snapping at people and making stupid rash decisions" cause. He was as highly strung as a guitar string and was about to snap.
But he was determined not to give Snape that satisfaction. He was going to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the period; do nothing that might give the Potions Master any reason to deduct points or add to his ever growing list of detentions.
Not even Malfoy was going to screw this up for him.
It was interesting to Harry how much your mind is altered from its regular workings when you're sleep deprived. His mind was reeling out into bizarre trains of thought.
"Watch what you're doing, Potter!" Draco scolded. Harry looked down to see the long green stalk he had been slicing was already diced, but Harry's knife had kept chopping along the board, almost slicing through one of Draco's pale fingers. This was the third time something like this had happened. And just like the others, Harry disregarded Malfoy's comment completely.
Yah, what a shame to lose a finger, Malfoy. Considering how much work you do that you need it for. Harry glanced down again at Malfoy's hand which was securing a thin sheet of what looked like rice paper while he brushed it with a thin coating of clear serum, his hand splayed out to keep it in place. The angle made his fingers look so long and elegant.
Harry shook his head to clear it. He set back to chopping things.
A couple minutes later, Harry carelessly dropped the handful of chopped roots into the cauldron, resulting in some of the unfinished potion to slosh over the sides of the small cauldron. Draco jumped back.
"Watch it, Potter!" He snarled. Harry again, disregarded the comment and went back to chopping up more roots.
Finally, about halfway through the period, the first potion was finished. Snape stalked around, grading the potions as usual: Gryffindors low scores, Slytherins – high scores, regardless of the quality. As for Harry and Draco, he gave them both C's, a middle score, but gave Draco extra credit for doing his part "exceptionally well" so it got bumped up to an A-. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from exploding.
Rage was not an apt word for the blood red haze burning in the back of his eyelids when he closed them to take a deep breath, attempting to calm himself.
"Back to notes for the second half of the lesson," Snape drawled, floating back to the front of the classroom. "For those of you whose potions were…unsatisfactory," he glared pointedly at a couple of Gryffindors in the front row, who shrank back from his stare, "I would hope you would pay attention and take careful notes so you work is, for once, adequate when we make the second potion. Now, first…"
Harry pulled some parchment out of this bag and laid it out on the table, pulling out a pencil. Draco mirrored his actions, wiping some potion left over on the table from when Harry had caused it to splash out away with his sleeve before putting down the thick yellowed paper.
Snape enchanted a piece of chalk to copy down his words onto the chalkboard as he spoke, lecturing. Harry attempted to write them down on his parchment, but even with is glasses, his eyes were bad, and he could barely make out the fuzzy white words. This wasn't good.
Harry sighed. Snape had probably intentionally put him in the back so that he could blame the raven-haired boy for not paying attention. He clenched his fists, pushing the rage down again. He tried to concentrate; to make out the words, but the lack of sleep was making the words blur even more, making his mind reel in strange trains of thought.
Draco's skin is the same pale color as the pages in my potions book, Harry thought absently, then shook his head. What the hell? He squinted again at the writing on the board before giving up. He couldn't see the notes but…
Draco could! Harry peeked out of the corner of his eye at Draco's side of the table. The notes copied down in small, neat, perfect handwriting. Awesome. Harry began flicking his eyes to Draco's paper, and then writing down the words on his own, then looking back.
Then, something caught his attention. The blonde had stopped writing. Harry glanced over, but his own notes were caught up to where Malfoy's were. Snape was still droning on, but the Slytherin wasn't copying down his words anymore. He was staring at the blackboard, his pencil in his hand. Absent-mindedly, the boy ran his thumb over the eraser, his other fingers slowly sliding down the side.
Harry felt a jolt somewhere he never expected to feel caused by the boy sitting next to him. Draco couldn't really be doing what Harry thought he was doing. No, he didn't realize how wrong the things he was doing to that pencil looked. And it was Malfoy he was talking about.
Note to self, Harry thought, get more sleep.
Harry looked back to his own paper, spotting a spelling error, and quickly corrected it. He glanced up at the board, and indeed, the chalk was still scribbling away as Snape drawled on in a monotone. Harry looked back at Draco but the blonde wasn't copying them down.
His fingers were still sliding along the pencil, gripping it in his fist, and then reaching his thumb to rub the eraser in circles. Harry swallowed and felt the sudden tightness in his pants. He shifted his cloak into his lap to cover it in case the blonde looked over.
Which wasn't likely since he was still staring intently on the board. The boy bit his lower lip softly, and then let it go with a light breath. Harry had to swallow hard. Okay, Malfoy couldn't know how sexy he was being. It was just Harry's sleep deprived mind.
Okay, wait a minute there. Hold your Thestrals.
Did he just call Draco frickin' Malfoy sexy?
Harry peeked over again at the blonde sitting next to him, and by the motions he was making on the pencil again, softly caressing the piece of wood, sliding his hand up and down it, Harry had his answer.
Draco flicked out his tongue and slowly, and seemingly unconsciously sensuously, wet his lips, leaving them glistening in the torch light, as if inviting Harry to taste them.
Draco couldn't know the effect he was having on Harry, could he? Why would his arch enemy want to turn him on? That was just crazy! Or maybe the lack of sleep clouding his mind was making him presumptuous. And the sexual frustration making him susceptible to Malfoy's unconscious fiddlings with a pencil.
"What are you looking at, Potter?" Malfoy snapped quietly. Snape didn't notice. "I'm not tapping my pencil, what more do you want from me?"
Well for starters, those lips on my…No, shut up, Harry. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
"Uh—um, nothing." To his eternal embarrassment, Harry felt his face getting as hot as his pants. He saw Draco smirk.
"A blush? Does little Potty-wotty have cwush?"
"On the likes of you? Don't flatter yourself," Harry shot back angrily, and saw the smirk widen on the blonde's face.
"Then you might want to get bigger pants next time you go shopping." Draco dropped his voice to a whisper, "They're a little tight, no?" Harry's mouth fell open with indignation and shock.
"Why you…" Harry started.
"Now, now, denial doesn't get you anywhere."
"Denial!" Harry practically shouted.
"Mr. Potter!" Snape exclaimed. "Detention and twenty points! Control yourself!" The professor snapped before turned back to his lecture.
"Yeah, Potter, control yourself. Word around school is the little red-head dumped you. You got no one to take care of your little problem so you might want to avoid it."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled. He fixed his sight on a nondescript section of the wall, hoping there would be nothing to set him off there.
Taptaptaptaptaptap. Harry let out a long breath and looked over at the blonde whose eyes were trained back on the blackboard, a small smirk on his face. He wet his lips again, only slowly and more drawn out and intensely, and Harry was about 120% sure Draco knew he couldn't pull his eyes away from the Slytherin.
Finally, Draco looked over to meet Harry's smoldering gaze.
"You know how much I hate that," Harry growled menacingly.
"Would you prefer this?" Draco drawled softly, his voice dropping an octave as he slid his fingers up and down the sides of the pencil again. Harry's eyes dropped to his hands…those long elegant fingers…what would it feel like to have those fingers…
Harry bit his lip.
"I saw you watching me earlier. Wish this wasn't my pencil, Boy-Who-Lived? Wish it was something else?" Harry barely managed to suppress a gasp as he felt the weight of Draco's hand on his thigh under the table.
"W-wha—?" Harry stuttered.
"Wish this was your cock, Potter?" Draco murmured, his hand on the pencil now wrapped around it, pumping up and down, the other hand on Harry's thigh making slow sensuous circles. Harry felt himself getting extremely hard. He bit back a moan as he watched the blonde's hand move up and down.
Fuck, how he wanted those hands pumping him.
Draco opened his mouth more obviously this time as he swept his tongue across his top lip. "Or how about this?" Draco brought the pencil up to his lips, his tongue flicking out and slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, licking the tip.
Harry bit his lip, and looked around. Wasn't anyone else noticing this?
"Don't worry. I've put up a shield and project spell. Everyone else sees only us sitting here like good little boys copying down our notes." Harry stared at him. Was this really happening? Or had is stressed, sleep-deprived mind finally snapped?
Draco looked at him through lidded eyes, leaning closer to Harry, his hand sliding as close to Harry's cock as he could possibly get without touching it. "Hard yet?" His hand slipped over the bulge in the Gryffindor trousers and Harry let out an unconscious moan. Malfoy smirked. "Guess so. Maybe the Boy-Who-Lived isn't the strapping hero we all thought." Draco leaned his head to take Harry's earlobe between his teeth, pausing only to say: "Maybe he likes to fuck boys."
Harry's mind snapped out of the daze of lust and surrealism that had clouded his mind.
"What the fuck, Malfoy? One moment you want to kill me, the next you're groping me? What are you going on about?" Draco shrugged.
"Does it matter?" His slim pale fingers started rubbing him again and Harry's head fell back without conscious consent. The blonde took advantage, running his tongue across Harry's Adam's apple, making him shudder. "You don't seem to be complaining."
"N-n—" he started to protest, but the sound of a zipper and the feel of foreign fingers around him silenced him. "Ahh!" He half moaned, half shouted in surprise.
"Does the famous Harry Potter like guys, perhaps…hmm?" Malfoy murmured sensuously in his ear, then proceeded to lick down the length of Harry's neck. He drew his tongue across the corner of Harry's lips, just enough to make them part in anticipation that his logical mind had not ordered them to do, and pulled back just enough so that they weren't kissing but Harry could feel Draco's breath ghosting across his neck. "Does the one who vanquished the Dark Lord get off by seeing a bloke's mouth around his cock?"
"I—" His objection was once again silenced, but this time because Draco's lips had caught the words, swallowing them as he thrust his tongue into Harry's open mouth.
He heard scrape of a chair as Malfoy got off his stool and suddenly was straddling the black-haired teen, without breaking the kiss.
Draco moaned into his mouth, his hips now bucking against Harry, and the Gryffindor groaned in surprise as a jolt of lust shot through him as he felt the Slytherin's own hard cock rubbing against his own. The blonde's hands toyed with the hem of Harry's shirt before sliding under them, running his hand across the smooth, Quidditch toned skin until he felt Harry tremble under him. Draco slipped the boy's shirt off and broke the kiss to lower his mouth to Harry's nipple, enclosing it in his lips.
Harry cried out in pleasure, his hands shooting to Draco's head, his hands entangling in the fine blonde hair. He was slowly being reduced to a shivering mess by Draco Malfoy.
Now there was something he would never have believed.
He felt the hand slide between them and start to pump him.
Again, Harry tried to protest, but the slim fingers started to slide up and down, just as they had on the cursed pencil that had started this whole mess.
"Oooh," Harry moaned. This was so not happening….but it was! Those fingers felt much too real to be any dream. He looked around, noticing the class completely oblivious to the strange scene actually playing out before them. Draco licked down Harry's chest to his stomach, running his tongue along the defined muscles there. The blond grasped Harry's cock like the pencil in his fist, using his thumb to rub the tip like the eraser.
"Draco…" he bit out.
"Mmm, so you finally said my name," Draco retorted smugly, sliding down the rest of the way so now he was kneeling in front of Harry between his spread legs…in the middle of Snape's potion's class anyways. "So you do like boys. Famous Potter is a pouf!"
"So what if I am?" Maybe he wasn't gay. Maybe it was a one-time thing…Draco-sexual or something. "So are you," Harry glared down at him. Draco smirked.
"At least when I want a boy, I go out and do something about it," Draco whispered against the underside of his cock and tremors shot through Harry, rocking him on his chair. "You want me to suck you?" Harry looked down at the boy kneeling between his legs, and bit his lip to keep another moan from slipping out.
"Yes," he whispered. Draco smiled.
"Glad we have that all cleared up." And without as much as a teasing lick, Draco swallowed Harry's cock as far as it would go and then some.
"Ahh, fuck!" Harry shouted, the warm, moist tightness surrounding him was like nothing he'd ever felt. "Nnnn…"
Draco started bobbing up and down, and Harry looked down, watching his cock disappear into the blonde's mouth as those icy eyes stared up into his.
Once again he slipped his fingers into Draco's hair and bucked his hips, sliding his cock even further into the boy's mouth. Draco pulled off him, and Harry whimpered.
"Ah, ah, ah, no touching." He flicked out his wand in the blink of and eye and suddenly Harry's hands were bound behind them in the chair. Draco appraised his work, licking his lips. "Much better," he decided and settled back, slipping Harry's cock into his mouth again.
Draco's mouth tightened around him and Harry moaned. Draco's icy blue eyes increased another shade of brilliancy. His free hand (the one not wrapped around what he couldn't fit in his mouth) was rubbing his own cock through his jeans.
He could feel his mouth, so hot and tight, all the little muscles tightening around him, feeling Draco's tongue work furiously along the underside, and the black-haired teen knew he wouldn't last much longer. They moaned in unison when Harry felt his tip hit the back of Draco's through.
"God, I'm so close…Draco…ah…don't stop!" His cock hit the back of Draco's throat again and he felt the muscles constrict as Draco gagged around him. "Please…" Harry managed to get out through clenched teeth he was so close.
Draco pulled off him, electing a whimper from Harry.
"Beg me," Draco whispered.
"Oh God, Draco, please!"
"Suck my cock so hard…make me come, please! I'm so close! Please!" And with his trademark smug smile, he took Harry's cock in his mouth again and slid it until it hit the back to his throat and then swallowed it all the way in.
Harry shouted some unintelligible words that might have been: "Fuck!" or "Draco!" but at the moment, frankly, it didn't matter.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm…I'm coming…aaahhh….DRACOOOOOOO!" Harry groaned so loudly he though the sound was what shattered the world around him, but a few moments later, he realized, it was the mind-blowing orgasm that had just been delivered to him courtesy of his nemesis. Drifting peacefully, Harry floated on the shimmering blankets of his afterglow.
But when he finally opened his eyes, he was confused. He lifted his head off the desk and looked up, seeing the classroom exactly as it had been: Draco dutifully taking notes, Snape droning on about the properties of some purple, oozing plant…
The only thing different was the distinctly wet feeling between his legs.
Ah, fuck, he thought, attempting to cover it with his robes. Hopefully he'd be able to get back to the tower and change before Charms. Suddenly, a sharp rapping shook him from his thoughts.
Draco Malfoy was tapping his pencil against his desk. Harry groaned and let his head sink back to the desk.
A dream? Really? What a day…
Finally, the period ended and Harry cautiously gathered all his things, careful not to let his robes shift from in front of his lap.
Just as Draco passed him on his way out, he dropped a small scrap of paper onto the desk next to Harry's potions book. As soon as the blonde was through the dungeon doors and out of sight, the Gryffindor picked it up, unfolded it, and read:
"If you ever need me to tap your pencil again, just let me know."
Harry stared at the words blankly before uttering a loud: "Ah, fuck!"
Thanks for the read! Hope you enjoyed!