Dedication: For Angel, my beta and brain twin, my muse, my enabler and bestest gal - and also for dear, sweet and sadly departed Michael Serpant whose story with its public kiss set my pulse racing. RIP Michael, thanks for the inspiration.
Draco Malfoy strolled into the great hall with all the superiority he could muster despite having the worst hangover in the history of the world, both wizard and muggle. The first thing he noticed was that all the students but one swivelled. This was no major disturbance of the natural order; in fact Potter's little gang generally all looked away, but today, not only were his playmates staring along with the rest of the school, but there was something decidedly unsettling about the way in which they were staring. As he took his seat, the best seat and therefore his by rights, at the Slytherin table, he couldn't help but notice the way that Potter seemed to be slumping forward into his porridge.
A sneer curled his full lips as he turned to point this out to his right hand man, Blaise Zabini, only to find the dark-haired Slytherin watching him with enough badly concealed curiosity to kill a roomful of cats. The impending sneer guttered to a snarl, pulling his face from fetching to feral. "What?" he uttered harshly, hoping his followers would quit gawking and start treating him with the proper reverence he deserved. Blaise licked his lips, an odd shimmering light of mischief and disbelief in his eyes as he fought a smile. "Don't you remember, Draco?"
Draco's perfect brow furrowed in annoyance and neatly hidden anxiety, "Remember what?"
He realised his mistake as a wave of sound, the merest whispers, shot up and down the table, 7th year Slytherins turning and exchanging meaningful glances with 7th years from the other houses. Draco's anxiety shot upwards from hidden to overpowering, knowing full well there was only one thing that could bind the houses together in such a manner.
The Seventh Year Slammer.
It was the only event in Hogwarts that could unite the houses for a night of drinks and debauchery, with the teachers either unaware or turning a blessed blind eye so that the exam-stressed students might catch a break. Each year a different house would host the Slam and it was agreed, even by the Slytherins, whose turn it'd been that year, that no foul play would come to pass during those long, sweet, alcohol soaked hours. For years it had been a tradition, and legend had it that at Dumbledore's Slam he'd gotten so drunk he'd awoken to find himself in bed with a house elf. Draco shuddered delicately, his memories of the night's festivities trickling back in tiny snatches of time, drinking, the Ravenclaws arriving, drinking, the Hufflepuffs arriving, drinking, the Gryffindors arriving, drinking, drinking, drinking…
"Blaise… I. Would you please be so good as to inform what it is I have obviously and quite hilariously forgotten?" This was delivered in a tone of the utmost boredom and sarcasm and if it had been said to anyone but Blaise, he might have just gotten away with it. Blaise grinned and for a moment Draco imagined he could see two horns sprout from his friend's temples. "No can do, Boss man," he laughed softly, "You know the rules and in cases such as these the rules must 'always' be obeyed."
Draco resisted the urge to let his head slam downward into the table. The rules. Each slam had to go by a number of reasonably simple but ironclad rules; it was the only way the slam had survived so long. As long as everyone went by the rules there was never any reason to see it shut down, and one of these annoyingly unbreakable rules was that the entire proceedings would be recorded by a nifty little spell known fondly as the 'Sneekee-Peek'. The spell would be set around the surrounding walls of whichever house would host the slam and subsequently record each sound and each and every action made by anyone during the party. It could be adjusted to focus on any one person, or action, follow drinks, smells, looks or even pick up whispered words, the idea being that if somebody suffered an injustice during the slam, the proof would be unequivocal and easily accessible. All houses would be able to access said spell and even have it recorded into a 'porta-peek' so that they could watch it over and over in the years to come and recall the more interesting moments in their past. It was also common knowledge that should any member of any house be found unable to remember the proceedings then a public viewing would be called for that house as a way to amuse themselves and humiliate the individuals into learning precisely what their alcoholic limit was. And Draco had forgotten.
"Blaise," he lowered his voice to the softest murmur, "Don't do it, man, no-one will benefit from seeing the Slytherin spearhead brought down by this stupid fucking tradition."
Blaise was practically purring in delight as he viewed his discomfited friend, " Oh, I know I'd certainly benefit from seeing it again, Drake. I know I did first time around." He winked lasciviously and Draco caught on, smiling for the first time since he'd sauntered in.
"Oh, it's like that, is it? Maybe it's worth a watch after all. S'not like you don't give a public viewing every fucking time I pull anyway." The Slytherins made it a point to use the 'Sneekee-Peek' at each of their 'social gatherings', mostly to laugh over the ease of Draco's conquests. Draco now found himself able to shake off the unease that had dogged him so far that morning, ever since he'd woken up curled beside a statue in the charms corridor. "Bugger," he murmured, filling his plate and grinning wolfishly at Zabini, "Can't imagine why I'd block something good like that out eh?"
Blaise watched with beautifully controlled mirth as his friend and leader began stacking his plate high with the rich Sunday morning spread. "Can't imagine," he purred before drowning his smile in pumpkin juice.
Harry had stumbled into the great hall only minutes before Malfoy had strolled serenely in. He was greatly dishevelled, having woken curled behind a large statue in the charms corridor before staggering, half-asleep, back to his dorms to find them empty because the others had headed down to breakfast already. A quick shower and a change of clothes hadn't helped to rouse Harry further and, as he felt his head dipping slowly towards the porridge Hermione had firmly placed before him, he dimly wondered why his head felt as if Hagrid had been brewing fire whisky in it. He lifted his head with great difficulty to ask Ron why the sun was so much brighter today, only to find the entire Gryffindor table staring at him. 'Big deal,' he thought to himself grumpily, 'I'm not in the mood for the 'Boy Who Lived' shit today. All I want is for someone to remove my head and replace it with a tea cosy and everything will be just fine.'
"Harry?" Ron screeched with all the volume of a hundred thunderstorms before waving a deliberately and horribly confusing hand up and down before Harry's unfocused gaze.
"Gggmmmmffff," Harry moaned weakly in protest, dropping his head back to the table, missing his breakfast by a few scant centimetres. From far away it seemed, Harry heard Hermione cluck in mild annoyance before he felt her blessedly cool wand tip against his forehead.
"Oh for Merlin's sake," she muttered before uttering a spell that sounded complicated even to those without hangovers. Harry's head suddenly felt as if someone had poured cool, clear water into it, washing the confusion and fuzz from his brain, clearing his vision and clogging his ears against the awful, evil bells that had somehow crept in there during the night. Harry sighed and sat up, eyeing Hermione with the awe she so rightly deserved.
"What was 'that'?" he murmured appreciatively, looking around the hall without flinching for the first time that morning. Hermione looked smug, placing her wand back on the table with a quelling glare at a near bursting Ron,
"It's my own invention Harry, like hair of the dog, just without the bite. You should be ok now... Y'know, clear as a bell and all that?" Her tone had shifted down from smug to offhandedly curious and Harry, being the sweet innocent that he is, saw nothing suspect in the many seventh years alternating curious looks between him and a certain Slytherin, as he tucked into his rapidly cooling porridge.
"Oh yeah," he mumbled, mouth full. "S'much better now, thanks, Herm."
The table shifted, unsatisfied, as Hermione toyed idly with her toast. "So… good party, huh, Harry?" There was a collective gasp, as Hermione not only broached the subject they had all been dying to and with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to boot.
"Umm yeah... guess so," Harry mumbled again, happily oblivious as he squirted honey into his congealing porridge. Ron reddened at his side as he tried desperately to not shake his best friend.
"Ummm... You guess so mate? Don't you remember?" There was another gasp. Apparently the lack of subtlety was contagious.
Harry stared off into space briefly, nose scrunching up as he thought hard. "Nope."
"NOPE?" Ron shrieked, drawing an alarmed glance from Harry as his voice shot up several octaves. Ron cleared his throat, glancing meaningfully at the dark haired Slytherin who had raised eyebrows questioningly at Ron's outburst. Hermione gestured subtly (AHA!) with one raised finger to the surrounding tables that their answer was imminent, smiling as she caught Malfoy's confused glance across the room. "What do you mean, Har?" Ron continued with renewed casualness, "Like 'nope' you don't remember the party at all or 'nope' you don't remember…?" He left the question hanging like the jaws of those around them, thinking he was about to give away the actual event.
Harry shrugged, the ease of no lessons making him content and unsuspicious of his, quite frankly, highly suspiciously acting friends. "Hmm... Well I remember Hermione dressing me up like a bloody Ken doll," he grinned, smile widening as only a few people at the table got the reference, "And I remember going to the Ummm 'study party' and I remember you and Herm disappearing into a room to 'study' no doubt... and then I think I was playing some stupid game with Zabini where you have to take a hit of some concoction of his each time… something happened… everything gets kind of hazy after that though. And then I woke up this morning in the 'weirdest' place…"
"WHERE?" The Gryffindor table screamed in unison, startling Harry into dropping the honey bottle into his bowl.
"Umm, the charms corridor." Shoulders slumped all down the table in disappointment and Hermione looked straight over the slouching students, giving Zabini a firm nod which was countered by an evil grin as Blaise slipped from his seat, strolling casually up to the teachers table.
A few moments later Dumbledore arose, eyes twinkling as if he'd eaten fireflies on toast as breakfast, raising his hands for quiet. There was a noticeable air of anticipation in the air and Harry twitched nervously in his chair, finally catching on that he was most significantly missing something.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I might have your attention for a brief moment. As I'm sure you're all aware, last night was the annual Seventh Year Study party, a long honoured tradition where the houses put aside all competition and discord to come together for a night of harmony and meetings of minds." Both Snape and McGonagall snorted at this but the Headmaster continued in his happily eccentric manner as if staff members' snorting at the breakfast table was commonplace.
"But, as is often the case here in Hogwarts, there are rules that must be followed and such rules would now specify that the seventh year students of Slytherin and Gryffindor meet after breakfast to settle affairs between them. Naturally any 7th year students from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw who should also wish to attend may do so, and I suggest this matter is dealt with directly after lunch as such rules often lead to all kinds of… events and celebrations."
Year groups 1 through 4 looked decidedly dubious at this speech, with 5 and 6 looking on with ill concealed envy as the 7th years all cheered and continued wolfing down their breakfast in an attempt to make lunch come all the faster, all aware of what such a meeting would entail.
Draco Malfoy hoped he hadn't been recorded on his bad side, not that he really had one.
Harry Potter hoped he hadn't been recorded and across the hall the Gryffindors shared smirks with the Slytherins, united for once.
"How much I shall have to tell," Blaise murmured, glancing sideways at Draco.
"How much I shall have to conceal," murmured Hermione, glaring warningly at the students who gazed upon Harry with hungry anticipation. A momentary pang assailed her as Harry met her eyes, flashing his trusting grin at her before she shooed the guilt away. Rules were rules after all.
Lunch couldn't have come any quicker with at least a hundred or so students willing it so. Food had been shovelled down necks with the exception of Harry who was now slightly concerned as Ron had pushed his plate from him, shaking his head in near sadness. " I wouldn't mate," he'd said, not meeting Harry's eyes, "You might have to see it again in a while otherwise."
They were all led to a large room by Blaise Zabini who, not surprisingly, had stepped in as leader in Draco's stead, it being common knowledge to all but Harry that Draco was one of the reasons the meeting was called. The room was decked out with a multitude of comfortable chairs all facing the front of the room where a large blank, sparkling screen had been set up.
"Look, Herm," Harry giggled, "It's a Wizard Cinema." Hermione smiled weakly in response, drawing another worried look from Harry. He found himself seated at the front with Ron and Hermione to his right and, horror of all horrors, Draco Malfoy to his left. He decided it might not be too bad though, surveying the chairs themselves. They were similar to large squashy armchairs and had at least a foot between them so although he was next to Malfoy, they weren't precisely close.
When everyone was seated and the anxious impatient murmuring had died down, Blaise Zabini stepped to the front to stand by the enormous screen. "Hello 7th years, I'm Blaise Zabini and I'll be your host this afternoon." There was a great amount of cheering from all houses as Zabini waved them back into order. "Are we all comfortable? Well then, on with the show." He grinned devilishly and suddenly Draco wasn't as sure as he had been of how much he really wanted to see what had been recorded. Blaise seemingly guessed his thoughts and mouthed the words 'Too Late Now' causing Harry to look at Draco sharply as Zabini touched his wand to the screen.
A cool clear voice filled the room, "State the names of those required." Blaise grinned again.
"Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter."
Both boys stiffened in horror realisation dawning on them in different degrees. Harry simply knew he needed to get out of there, Draco recalling Zabini's implications at the breakfast table. Both tried to jump to their feet to flee, but even as their names were spoken they found themselves bound magically to their chairs. Harry looked wildly to his guilt ridden friends, eyes widening as he realised they'd known the outcome of this visit. "Sorry, Harry," whispered Ron, smiling weakly as Hermione nodded, smiling sadly, "It's the rules."
Motion on the screen had everyone's head snapping back towards it, two with dread, the rest with glee as the screen split into two halves: one side was Harry's entrance to the party and the other a beautifully captured moment when Draco had looked over his shoulder to watch Harry's arrival. The hall caught its breath, having forgotten or having had their reactions dulled by alcohol to each boy's appearance the night before. It was instantly apparent that the night had been the social event of the years spent at Hogwarts, as both boys appeared to be dressed better than any had seen them.
Draco was exquisitely attired in black fitted trousers of the finest cut, belted low upon his pale hips that glimmered tantalisingly through the opaque black silk shirt he wore, the material bunching where it drew in to tight cuffs over slender wrists, leaving the rest to glide over his smooth Quidditch toned form. The shirt had been buttoned low, the vague shadow between his pectorals visible here and there as his muscles flexed as he moved. He gave the impression of perfected, old-fashioned elegance, his white gold hair left loose for once, hanging softly across his brow, a stark contrast to the differing, shifting black that draped his skin. One hand was resting in a pocket, casual and confident, as the other held a drink of dazzling blue, cradled almost lovingly in his palm. It was this Draco blamed for a the vaguely appreciative look in his onscreen eyes as he watched Potter's entrance before glancing over to the side where Harry entered in slow motion so that everyone might get a good look.
Potter's outfit was somehow more breathtaking, Draco mused, because no one knew just how well he would clean up, seeing as he hadn't bothered before. But being Quidditch Captain obviously agreed with Potter, now tall and more powerful than Draco. His shoulders had broadened over the years, turning his awkward gait as a youth into a manly sway, as if they controlled the sheer power of his body, his walk now slow, deliberate. His new aura of control and caged animal grace was aided by his outfit, which, though it hurt him to do it, Draco had to admire.
Although both in black, it was as though the boys had dressed to oppose each other. Draco's trousers were of fine, conservative cut, only made to show the length of his legs not cling to every muscle and sinew the way Potter's sinfully tight leathers were doing. Draco's shirt had been designed to cover but show all that he wished people to see, a controlled sexiness to it that he'd been told made people want to rip it from his body. Potter's shirt was short sleeved, displaying firm yet not overlarge biceps, but that was where the display ended. His shirt was matt black, showing nothing of the skin beneath nor clinging to the muscles they all knew were there. What was the point? Draco mused, then smiled grimly as screen Potter lifted a hand to wave to someone unimportant and the shirt shot upwards. How was it possible, Malfoy wondered as he let his eyes roam over Harry's clearly visible pelvic girdle, for those trousers to fit so tightly yet ride so low? He'd bet a hundred galleons Granger had something to do with it, he decided as his eyes drifted upwards, his breath catching despite him as his eyes took in Harry's face. Green. Bright, unabashed, emerald green seemed to pierce him even as he sat watching, his head shooting round to look at Potter curiously.
"Contacts," Harry muttered, staring at the floor. He had never been so mortified in his life. He couldn't recall what had gone on the night before, but he knew that if it involved Malfoy in any small degree then it wouldn't be good.
The screen flickered and paused as Zabini stepped back into view, wand held aloft.
"Now we know the players, allow me to set the scene." The lights flickered and lowered and Harry was again reminded of the cinema, although this time he feared he had more to worry about than Dudley stealing his popcorn.
Zabini pointed at the screen, highlighting Draco's picture and bringing it forward till it filled the screen, much to Harry's relief. The feeling, however, was short lived as Zabini grinned and unease assailed the two captive 7th years.
"Draco Malfoy," he began, "You all know him… some of you less than others, but it's the one's who know him best that concern our story today. Hailed as the Silver Prince of Slytherin or the Slytherin Sex God… " Harry snorted and Blaise shot him an amused look before continuing, "Not so hasty, Mr. Potter, if you please. Hailed as the Slytherin sex god, he has yet to find anyone technically worthy of him. Many have tried and though I think its fair to say that a good time is had by all, it's never been quite good enough, eh, Drake?" He winked at Draco, who cocked an eyebrow and told the voice inside him that quivered with embarrassment to shut up. "As you all may or may not know, depending on your social standing, Slytherin hosts many an interesting soiree with women literally flinging themselves at our boy until it became standard for them to even try it on in public." Blaise cast a disparaging look towards the Hufflepuffs. "And by try it on, children, I'm implying that they tried to ummm 'bed him' in public view, with one former student even going so far as to actually go down on him as he sat talking with his friends."
Ron snorted in disbelief, muttering "What friends?" Amusement spurred Harry into speaking up.
"Is there a point coming at all today, Zabini, or can you wake me when it's time to leave?"
Blaise repressed the desire to laugh maniacally. "Oh it's coming alright, Potter. It's coming."
Draco's eyes widened and as he opened his mouth to yell at Zabini, having caught onto the horrific train of thought his friend was following, he found himself unable to speak, Blaise's wand pointed directly at him.
"Now, now, Draco. You've had your fun, so sit quiet while I have mine, there's a good boy." Draco thrashed against his bindings, furious at his friends implications, and all Potter could do was stare at him like he was an escaped lunatic.
"Moving onwards, boys and girls… one girl decided to try and woo him with her, ummm, skills without bothering to move it to a more private setting. Draco, being the gentlemen that he is (more snorts from Ron) allowed her to do as she pleased and was able to maintain his conversation without missing a beat."
A wave of the wand and suddenly Draco saw the oft played clip of him, talking earnestly with someone, the shot carefully edited so that it was only obvious by the motions of the top of the girl's head as to what she was doing. Draco suddenly blinked, once, twice before smiling and sighing contentedly, winking as the girl sat back up. His mouth quirked, he drawled "Thank you," and the image froze again. Harry's face flamed, having found himself unable to tear his eyes from the screen as Draco came with such casual indifference.
Blaise stepped forward once again, grinning at the death glare he was now receiving from his silenced housemate. "News spread quickly of Draco's composure, drawing more interested parties forward who were all they could shatter his control." He gestured at the screen. "That folks, is from two years ago and STILL no one could shatter the Ice Prince. It became a bet; the Sneekee-Peek used at 'every' social gathering so that when he broke, it would be well documented. The prize money had reached 500 galleons at last count."
Murmurs broke out amongst the room, some appalled, some enthralled, all hungry for more.
Blaise grinned, gesturing again with wand and shot after shot of Draco smiling or exhaling sharply mid sentence filled the screen, all amused shortly afterwards, still perfectly composed and all perfectly humiliating if you were one of the two boys awaiting the reason for the meeting.
"Oh God he didn't," Draco whispered in his head, eyes fixed now on the floor.
"Oh god I didn't," Harry begged himself fervently, eyes screwed shut.
The exhalations stopped, the murmured sardonic 'thank yous' stopped and everyone gazed with bated breath at Blaise.
"Without further ado then, I give you… last night."
The dimmed lights flickered again before going out completely as the light from the screen lit the room in muted blues and silvers, night seeming to fall shortly after lunch for those students. The screen sifted through many images, couples laying around on cushions acting as if they were alone, drinking games with half and mostly naked students laughing, a cupboard where people were pulling names from hats and being sent in for the fabled seven minutes, a leather sofa where Harry Potter sat making drunken conversation with a redheaded Slytherin girl, chairs and stools crowded around as they all discussed love, life, magic and alcohol.
"Hey, Marchand, you're in my place," Draco drawled from off screen, tumbling over the back of the sofa in a somehow graceful heap, as the awestruck Marchand slipped from the sofa to a chair, gazing in wonder at the drunken Prince of Slytherin. Harry smiled slightly as he watched his screen self sigh and roll his eyes in disgust at Malfoy's actions.
"You got a problem, Potter?"
"Yeah, you treat all your housemates like that?" Screen-Draco took a lazy sip from his drink, now startlingly purple. "No," he laughed, " I treat 'everyone' like that, Potter."
Screen-Harry looked appalled but managed to shake his head in wry amusement. "That sucks, Malfoy."
Unseen Screen-Blaise's voice cut through, laughing hard, "Name something that doesn't!"
Screen-Harry's brow furrowed. "What?"
More laughter, "Name something that 'doesn't' suck Malfoy!" All the Slytherins around the table laughed with the exception of Draco, who merely shrugged, smiling as the other house members looked confused, Harry included.
"Naughty, naughty," Draco thought, as he watched Blaise explaining the bet to the others, "No one outside the house is supposed to know about that… if I weren't going to kill him for this, we'd have to have words."
A shout sounded on screen as the cupboard door was pulled open and half the table ran over to see the progress of the pair inside, leaving Harry and Draco on the sofa. Harry was shaking his head and Draco watched himself sigh long-sufferingly. "What now, Potter? Your Gryffindor sensibilities in an uproar are they?" Harry shook his head firmly, before taking a large drink from his glass.
Draco tore his eyes from the screen as Harry shrunk back in his seat, whispering fervently "No, no I could 'not' have been drunk enough to suck him off… no way. No 'fucking' way."
The Slytherin felt something in his blood step up at the sound of the supposed 'prim' Gryffindor saying 'suck him off' and as he considered the possibility that it might be exactly what was about to occur, complete with him likely losing it in orgasm, he wished he'd had the sense to arrange his robes about him as images poured through his head, carrying his blood to places best left ignored in public.
"I just can't see how no one has beaten you yet," Screen-Harry stated and Draco winced as his screen counterpart laughed, "Well no one's tried actually beating me off, Potter," he paused to sneer and Draco knew an odd moment of clairvoyance as he realised that what he was about to say was the origin of this mess, "Gee, that is unless you're offering, Potter?"
The room caught its breath, Harry and Draco included, before exhaling in relief as Potter burst out laughing. "Oh please… one: Like I need 500 galleons, two: I'd rather cut my own arm off, three..."
Screen-Draco cut in, "You couldn't do it if you tried." Screen-Harry's head shot round to glare and both real Harry and Draco groaned as they saw the challenge hovering between them onscreen. Slowly Screen-Harry put down his glass with great deliberation and triumph lit screen Screen-Draco's face.
"Leaving so soon, Potter? Things were just getting interesting." Harry shrugged.
"I'm not going anywhere, I just refuse to get into such a fucking pointless argument with you when you're just trying to get a rise out of me."
"Oh I'm giving you a rise am I, Potter, just the 'thought' of me doing it for you, is it?"
"Bet you'd like to."
"Don't make me fucking slap you."
"Ooh how kinky, Potter, first you want to beat me off now you want to play rough... Got many fetishes have we?"
As the comments came faster and the two boys on screen moved inevitably closer, greens eyes flashing ire, silver flashing with cool amusement as the entire room leant forwards in their seats, waiting, just waiting.
Screen-Harry ground his teeth and bit out, "I don't want to fucking beat you off!"
Screen-Draco winked, thoroughly enjoying himself and both real Harry and Draco took some comfort in the fact that this looked to be a fight gone horribly wrong rather than a full out make-out session. Maybe, they both hoped, maybe they just kissed, that would surely be sensational enough for the two rivals... maybe, just maybe...
Screen-Draco leaned in close to Potter, deliberately invading his personal space, "Yeah, you do," he hissed, causing most of the female audience to moan softly, "You just know you couldn't make me come so you won't admit it."
Draco's jaw fell open, his brain searching through all his knowledge for a way to make him have not just said that. Screen-Harry moved suddenly, seizing Screen-Draco's legs and hauling them from beneath him so the Slytherin was unceremoniously sprawled on his back and dragged forwards till Harry straddled him. Vaguely Draco heard Potter whimper in horror as the brunet on screen leant down to hiss into his face, "Not only am I 'not' going to beat you off, but you are going to come 'so' hard, Malfoy, and you're going to come when 'I' tell you to, ok? Good."
And with that Screen-Harry crashed his lips downwards over Screen-Draco's. There were voices all exclaiming on the screen and voices exclaiming in the room and Draco risked a glance sideways at Potter, who's eyes were still fixed on the screen, teeth clenched, knuckles white around the arms of his chair. Malfoy turned back to witness the horror himself, watching as Screen-Harry pinned the now struggling Screen-Draco, holding his arms down against the sofa, hips pinning hips as Screen-Harry bit down on Screen-Draco's lower lip. A gasp echoed around the room and on screen once more as this action seemed to halt Screen-Draco's struggles, his lips parting obediently, and again Malfoy felt the heat rising in his groin as he watched Screen-Harry thrusting his tongue into his screen self's mouth.
The gasp onscreen was cut short as Blaise suddenly stepped into view again, pausing the screen just as Screen-Draco seemed to be responding to the kiss. Beaming, Blaise addressed the crowd, "Now remember folks, all it takes for young Harry to win the bet is just one noise of appreciation from young Draco. All we have had before have been vague sighs and catches in breath; winning requires an actual moan, groan, whimper or any vocal indication of pleasure on Draco's part. Alcohol is not an issue here, our Mr. Malfoy has been much, much more drunk than this before and still escaped without more than a sigh and a polite 'thank you very much.' Talking does 'not' count unless it is vocal appreciation i.e. 'yes, oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes just like that, oh yeah' versus 'so how about this weather'." Appreciative laughter filled the room and Draco tore his eyes from Blaise to find Harry staring at him, horror, confusion and something Draco couldn't quite place flickering in his gaze before Harry turned back to the screen.
"On with the show." Blaise resumed his seat as the recording sprang back into life, Screen-Harry's tongue flitting carefully over the lip he'd just bitten, soothing and tasting all at once. Malfoy watched in amazement as his screen self submitted within seconds, head tilting slightly, rising off the cushions to meet Harry's lips, tongues duelling, briefly, wetly before Harry sank back into the welcoming warmth of Draco's mouth. He released the Slytherin's hands and for a moment Draco thought he might throw him off, but watched, hope fading, as his hands twined in Harry's hair, clutching at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer from his kneeling stance over his prone form. Screen-Harry brought a hand up, cupping Draco's throat, turning his head this way and that at his whim, kissing this side of his mouth, devouring him at any angle he wished. The other hand moved downwards and Draco watched in sudden understanding of his half dressed state that morning as Harry forcibly ripped the silk shirt from his body.
Harry watched in horror and shaming arousal as his screen self tore the material from Draco's firm white abdomen, and he was glad he'd worn thick robes as he watched his and Draco's tongues battling in the space between their lips as Screen-Harry pulled back from devouring Draco's mouth to take breath before sinking in again. He had never, ever thought of touching or kissing Draco in this way but as he watched he felt bombarded by sensations, good strong, arousing sensations, and only the thought that Ron was next to him, most likely horribly grossed out by this, kept Harry from moaning as he watched Draco's body buck beneath his as his fingers pinched and tweaked Draco's smooth pink nipples.
Draco shifted, watching as Harry's mouth moved from his own, now conspicuously damp and swollen, trailing hot, wet kisses down his throat to his collar bone, cursing the fact that he couldn't recall these sensations when he realised he had the power to move again. He shifted again, aware now that he could move his arms slightly from their rests. Struggling slightly, yet fortunately hidden by the darkness, he slowly moved his arm across, plucking at his robe as he went, trailing it over his lap, hiding his now obvious pleasure in the recording from the world. He noticed, too, that Harry was now breathing heavily through his nose, quick, fast panicked breaths, and Draco felt a flash of shame for taking pleasure in something Harry was so plainly disturbed by.
Harry watched, trying hard not to make any small noise of want or longing as he watched himself trailing his tongue over Draco's ribcage, criss-crossing over the neatly delineated stomach muscles, Draco thrashing beneath the onslaught, eyes screwed shut. He's probably picturing someone else, Harry decided glumly, shivering as Screen-Draco bit down hard on his lip, arching as Screen-Harry circled his belly button with his tongue. He let his eyes sneak sideways, passing over the real Draco who sat slumped in his chair like he was watching the end of the world. He's going to despise me, even more than before, Harry realised sadly.
And then it happened. Draco's body bucked upwards beneath Harry, the circling tongue now suddenly dipping and thrusting deep into his bellybutton, back and forth, rapidly, mimicking pleasures as yet untouched on. As Harry's tongue shot in and out, lapping and probing, Draco's hands tightened in his hair, pulling the brunet's face closer in, releasing his lower lip from his teeth to hiss an unmistakable "Yesss… oh gods fuck, yeesssss, Potter."
Both Malfoy and Potter shot forwards in their seats, jaws dropping as an amazed shout came from off screen, Blaise's voice, drunk and triumphant, "Merlin's Beard! He's done it! Potter won the bet!"
Draco waited for Blaise to stop the recording, shooting him a angry confused glare at which point Blaise paused the recording once more just as Harry moved his mouth to bite down on a nipple, the pause occurring just seconds before his teeth closed, and therefore drawing a displeased cry from the audience.
"Sorry folks, but I'm getting angry glares from our stars and I just wanted to point out that I haven't turned it off after proving that Harry won the bet because Harry here made his own wager with Draco… who remembers what it was?"
Many anguished hands shot up, wanting the recording back on with all due haste. Blaise pointed, smiling like a quiz show host, "Justin Finch Fletchley... what was it?"
"Harry said he'd make him come 'really hard' and that he'd do it when Harry told him to."
Blaise smiled broadly, "Well, look who's been paying attention. That'd be ten house points if I could give them, Justin. Now…. Back to the entertainment methinks." Blaise turned to point his wand at the screen when a quiet but firm voice piped up. "Wait."
Blaise turned to look at Harry, eyebrow raised in a distinctly Malfoy-esque fashion. "Yes, Harry?" he purred, loving the look of total embarrassment and unwilling arousal on Draco's face as he kept his eyes averted from the Gryffindor. "You've clearly already seen this, Zabini… how the hell much longer until you stop torturing us and let us go?" Draco was touched that Harry said 'us' in that softly spoken, sexy as all get-up "you 'will' respect me" voice, but the feeling was quickly squashed by Blaise deliberately winking at the crowd and drawling (in addition to stealing his smirk), "Well I guess that depends on how long dear Draco lasts, doesn't it?"
The lights dimmed again, Harry's teeth closed about Draco's nipple and he groaned, deep and hard in his throat, biting his lips again. Blaise's voice cut across the now mutual moans as Harry crushed his lips to Draco's once again, "Bloody hell, does that make Potter a two time winner?"
"Malfoy." It was hissed, insistent in his ear and Draco jumped, looking round to find Potter had indeed discovered he could move as well and had leaned across the gap.
"What?" Draco hissed back, trying to not sound as embarrassed or as turned on as he truly was... more horrified to discover his voice had been returned to him than he had been to lose it.
"Well, I… it's your body, how long until... You know, d'y'think?"
Draco noticed that although Harry had moved, his eyes were still fixed upon the screen, and as Draco turned to watch and think, he cringed as his screen self wrapped his long legs about Screen-Harry, who now lay almost completely atop him, grinding down against him with almost as much desperation as he was grinding upwards. He watched as his own hands crept round to clench hard on Harry's ass, slipping beneath the leather to the left to cup and squeeze one cheek. This action brought the two into closer contact and Screen-Draco mewed helplessly against Screen-Harry's mouth, gasping between kisses for much needed oxygen, Draco's eyes drawn to the small expanse of pale flesh, the very top of Harry's left cheek where his hand grasped and clung. Draco thanked all the Gods going for small mercies as he realised that squeezing was all that his screen self planned. A delicious shudder passed through him at the thought of entering Harry's body in such a way, as he'd never tried it but watching his hand clutching innocently made him wish he could just sink his fingers or more into Harry's warm welcome body. He shuddered again, then realising Harry's eyes were now on him, he remembered the question.
"I, uh... umm… couldn't say, Potter. Kind of looks like you're running the show from here." Harry flushed and sat back, both boys attention flickering back to the screens as the pair's gyrations became more frantic, moaning deeply into each other's mouths when suddenly Harry sat back.
A groan came now from the Harry beside him, mortification sending the 'boy who lived's head to his chest in defeat as now Draco, and indeed everyone, saw exactly how revealing the leather trousers could be. But as Harry continued to move backwards from a softly whimpering Draco, it became clear that well fit linen trousers were equally as unhelpful in the concealment department. Both boys erections strained against their trousers, so obviously, painfully hard the material had moulded itself like second skin, pushing urgently against its counterpart.
The odd moan and whimper came from the audience both on and off screen and Draco's own erection withered slightly at the thought of others getting off to his pleasure, pleasure he couldn't even recall. Harry's movements on screen were becoming slightly clearer as he lay down once more, deliberately keeping his lower half free from Draco's as he moved in to kiss him again.
The picture froze. Blaise stood again looking, Draco noted with a smirk, decidedly flustered, his shirt untucked and hanging low. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began in a slightly quavering voice "The Money Shot." Harry and Draco's heads shot round, eyes meeting in panic before zapping back up to the screen as the volume increased greatly, Draco's quick breaths suddenly echoing about the room.
Harry kissed Draco again, tenderly, almost lovingly, and the soft, wet sounds of Harry's lips and tongue against his nearly sent Draco over the edge. He whimpered softly and found to his utmost surprise, a warm hand gripping his own. "S'ok, " Potter whispered, voice cracking, "S'nearly over."
Screen-Harry ended the kiss, turning his face sideways to nuzzle Draco's ear, tongue tracing the shell-like delicacy of the ridges. "Come for me," he demanded softly, "Now."
And to everyone's surprise, (excluding Blaise and Screen-Harry) Draco did.
"Oh gods, yes, Harry...fuck… yessssssss."
Harry coloured as Screen-Draco's hips shot up, thrusting against an unseen force, watching as his screen self smoothed a hand down over Draco's chest and stomach to rest just over his belt, pushing Draco back into place beside him to kiss him again. Screen-Draco whimpered, still thrusting faintly as if riding out the last of his orgasm, murmuring quietly between kisses, "So good, Harry… so good."
Both Harry and Draco gasped aloud, realising suddenly that Screen-Draco had actually screamed and moaned 'Harry' and not Potter. They looked at each other in shock then back to the ground, colour rushing into their faces in greater degrees.
The screen flickered and froze again, Blaise standing before them. "Thank you all for coming," he purred and Draco's head shot up, an angry rebuttal on his lips, starting as Harry's "Fuck You, Zabini!" rent the air.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Potter. What will Draco think?" Both Harry and Draco made to leap from their seats only to find the barriers holding them firm again.
Blaise smiled warmly at the rest of the group. "Everything that has happened in this room will remain undisclosed to others. Tell others and dig your own grave. This meeting is adjourned."
Students glancing at the now raging, spitting, hissing duo hurried past, all wanting to work off the excess energy the display had given them, most dragging others into nearby classrooms to discuss or 're-enact' with only Ron, Hermione and Blaise left behind with the two blushing, angry boys.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered and Harry stopped struggling, glaring at her.
"Look," he ground out, "I know this was the rules, I know that technically this is mine and his fault anyway but could you please get us the 'fuck' out of these chairs?"
Ron stepped forward immediately to unbind them, mumbling sorry, too, redder than his family's hair combined as he considered Harry's use of the word 'us'.
"Wait," Zabini said, all bravado temporarily cast off. "This one's my friend and..." Draco cut him off, snarling, "Yeah, it really fucking shows, too, you asshole!"
Blaise ignored him, focusing on Ron and Hermione. "Look, aside from the fun I had getting one up on Draco here I actually thought this might be good for them… their binds run out in just a bit as it is, so we can leave them here to sort out their ...Uhm …situation or we can set them loose and watch them kill each other and then us."
Ron glared at Blaise, "You never said anything about embarrassing Harry, you said it'd take Malfoy down a few fucking pegs."
Blaise grinned impishly, "Well it did and technically your mate 'did' come out on top…" Both Harry and Draco made another bid for freedom, howling with rage by now, Ron stepping forward to free his friend until Hermione stepped between them.
"Ron, wait a sec. I think he has a point… they do have some, Erm, issues to sort out and it'll give them time to cool off, too."
"What?" Harry shrieked, "No way, Herm, look, I'm fine, we're fine, aren't we fine, Malfoy?"
Draco nodded desperately, "Oh god yeah, fine as fine as uhm fine just let us out already." Blaise was giggling helplessly and Draco swivelled in his chair to whisper menacingly, "What's. So. Fucking. Funny. Now?"
Blaise pointed at Draco, tears of mirth rolling down his face. "You, it's you, you said 'Oh god yeah' when he asked if you if you were fine…" Blaise flung back his head and cried melodramatically, "Oh yes, Potter, I mean Harry, yes God fuck god fuck yes, yes… yes… YES!"
Harry thrashed against his bonds, growling as Draco roared, "I'm going to fucking kill you!"
Zabini jumped out of reach, "All in favour of a cooling off period say Aye!"
"Aye!" yelled Ron and Hermione as the three ran for the door. "Sorry, Harry!" Ron called over his shoulder and then the door slammed shut.
"Fucking, wanking, BASTARDS!" Harry yelled, slumping in his chair, exhausted from trying to break loose as Draco let himself be cradled by the bonds, leaning forwards, pale with anger and humiliation.
"Potter," he mumbled.
"Our friends suck."
"But we get to kill them soon, right?"
"In just a bit."
"They're as good as dead."
"Are we going to talk about this?"
Draco let his head fall back, eyes closed, weary and beyond embarrassment suddenly.
"Did 'you' want to talk about it Potter?"
"Uhm… only if you think we should."
"I guess we should."
Despite himself, Harry burst out laughing.
"Look, Malfoy, it was just one night…. We don't need to get married."
"You're not fucking funny, Potter."
"So stop laughing."
Tears were now streaming down Harry's cheeks. "Can't," he gasped, "Spent so long, watching that, that 'thing' and all I could do was watch and then we got mad and now I think I'm just going to laugh till I die."
"Well get on with it then."
"Oh don't be funny, Malfoy, my sides hurt."
"Who's being funny?"
"Stop it already!"
"I'm not 'being' funny, Potter!" Draco's mouth was starting to twitch.
"Don't you laugh!"
"You fucking well are!"
"Looked alright to me!"
Both boys dissolved into tears of laughter, trying to clutch at their sides with hands that couldn't be moved from the armrests until they both slumped forwards onto their barriers, bodies heavy with laughter and exhaustion.
Harry's fringe had flopped forward over his eyes and the still grinning Gryffindor blew upwards, trying to relocate the ebony strands as Draco rolled his eyes in mock impatience. "Honestly, Potter," he drawled leaning close, "Can't you do 'anything' right?" Harry's eyebrows quirked at this and Draco reddened, muttering a quiet 'shut up' and forcefully blowing the hair from Harry's eyes. The two boys stared at each other, the moment held in deadlock as each regarded the other with an uneasy mixture of wariness and awareness before Harry hesitantly wet his lips to speak.
"Malfoy, I…" he trailed off, noting the colour flooding Draco's face as his eyes followed the path that Harry's tongue tip had taken before Malfoy guiltily raised his eyes to met Harry's, both boys blushing more than the Hogwarts Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Appreciation Society's put together. " I," Harry murmured again, eyes widening in shock as their bonds gave suddenly, tipping both wizards to the floor.
They lay there for a few seconds, breath coming in gasps of surprise and impact with the floor before Harry sat up, smiling jubilantly, punching the air in triumph. "Yes!" he cried, jumping to his feet and hauling Draco to his, "Free! Free at last, ha-ha free I tell you ...FREE!" Draco let out a most undignified whoop and turned to kick his chair as Harry flipped his the bird.
"What say we blow this Popsicle stand, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry intoned mock courteously, gesturing elegantly towards the doors, their mutual relief keeping the boys in high spirits for the time being.
"Oh absolutely, Mr. Potter, in fact, let us depart this very moment."
Harry nodded, still smiling beatifically as he extended an arm, bowing slightly as he gestured, palm out towards the door once more. "After You," he murmured solicitously. Draco walked ahead, smiling before halting after a few strides, mimicking Harry's posture, "No, no dear boy, " he demurred silkily "After 'you'." Harry giggled and Draco cursed himself for the little tickling waves of happiness it caused within him to hear it. They managed this way all the way up to the door, each laughing a little more as their bows became more elaborate, their voices switching between subservient (in the manner of a butler crossed distinctly between Filch and Fudge before Dumbledore) and snidely dignified with Harry doing a scarily accurate impression of Draco's father and Draco countering him with a horribly lecherous Snape. By the time they actually made it through the door they were sobbing again, leaning on each other for support and mimicking each other's actions with half formed sentences and re-enactments as tribute to the other's comedic genius.
A startled gasp had them pulling away from one another, paling as they each recognised the attractive redhead whose seat Draco had usurped before his little 'run in' with Harry. Harry gulped and Draco summoned every reserve of Malfoy poise he had, nodding cordially at his housemate. "Marchand," he murmured before steering Harry away down the next corridor and away from her steadily glazing green eyes.
Harry exhaled wearily, "Bugger," he muttered, recalling the reason for his and Draco's enforced companionship.
"Nah, maybe later." Malfoy grinned, semi-awkwardly and despite the furious rush of his blood to his face and nether regions, Harry grinned, too, and they continued on, walking nowhere, each aware that something in the dynamics of their relationship had shifted.
Malfoy stretched his arms above his head, relishing the pop of each vertebrae snapping back into place as he cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "Potter… what's a Popsicle stand?"
Laughter echoed, bouncing off the walls and running amok in the corridors, tantalising others with snatches of happy sounds as the two boys walked together, talking of nothing and laughing at everything, glowing in the discovery of this 'something new' between them.
Harry had just finished explaining the delights of Pizza to Draco, ('Flat bread and whatever you want on top? Really? Think the house elves would make us one?') when his steps faltered and he blushed furiously once more, regret shining in his eyes as he came to a full stop. "This is me," he mumbled.
Draco lifted his eyes from Harry's to see a portrait of an obese woman leering at them and licking her lips lecherously as she took in the boy's nonchalant proximity to each other. Draco tipped his head to one side, looking distastefully at the afore mentioned fat woman, sneering as she blushed. " I don't know, Potter," he drawled in a perfect imitation of the person he'd been before their little drinking debacle, " Sure, you're ugly… but 'that' ugly?"
Harry laughed before shooting the Fat Lady an apologetic look. "No, Malfoy, this is my stop, Gryffindor territory."
Malfoy nodded mock seriously before staring at his perfect shoes, "Can I come in?" he mumbled.
Harry blinked several times, jaw agape as he stared hard at Draco. "You 'want' to come in with me? Into the 'Gryffindor' common room?"
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as if Harry had asked the most inane question in the world, "Well I need 'something' to do, Potter, between now and when I come up with a master plan to murder Zabini and I just figured why not a guided tour of what I've heard rumoured to be the tackiest rooms in the castle, but if you don't want me to come in I can just, Y'know…" He jerked his head sideways as if to indicate his departure, blushing even before he met Harry's amused gaze.
"You're nuts, you know that, yeah?" Harry chuckled, noting Draco's shortness of breath after delivering his nervous sentence and Draco grinned, abashed.
"Yeah, but at least I'm not ugly." Harry laughed delightedly, the noise sending tremors up and down Draco's spine like little fingers of flame as the Gryffindor jerked his head towards the portrait.
"C'mon then, you daft bugger."
"You forgot gorgeous," Draco purred as they stood before the picture and Harry's voice trembled on a laugh as he solemnly stated 'Toasted Marshmallows' and the portrait swung open.
The first thing to strike the two boys as they stood gaping into the room was that finally Slytherin and Gryffindor had found something to bond over as they noted all their housemates assembled, grinning like maniacs without proper medication. The second was the two huge banners that swung gently in a charmed breeze, one alternating between flashing green and silver letters that spelt out 'WelCOME to Gryffindor, Malfoy' and flashing red and gold, spelling out 'Just Do It… Cos Harry said to!' with the second banner merrily flashing all the colours of the rainbow and declaring to all assembled 'Gryffindors do it… with SLYTHERINS!'
"How did they know I'd come here?" Draco murmured, torn between confusion and total mortification and Harry growled softly as Ron, Hermione and Blaise waved to them from within the room, Ron waggling his eyebrows furiously as he clasped a highly suspicious and 'map'-like piece of parchment.
Harry slammed the portrait, the sounds of many disappointed 'awwwwws' coming from within.
"How sweet," Draco spat scathingly, "they've bonded."
"Our friends suck?"
"Got it in one."
"Just a thought, Potter," Draco spoke quickly, stepping away from the now dreamily smiling Fat Lady, "But shouldn't we be blowing this Popsicle stand thingy before they come out to torment and ruin our young lives yet again?"
Harry glanced nervously at the entrance to his rooms, "Yeah, yeah I guess so, but where'll we go? Ron's got my enchanted map so they'll know wherever we go anyway."
Draco raised one elegant eyebrow. "Enchanted Map?"
"Marauders Map, my father's, family heirloom, now come on, we've got to get out of here! Where can we go?" He was starting to sound quite panicked and as Draco recalled the outcome of the Slytherins and Gryffindors working together before, he started to feel just a touch uneasy himself. A bright smile split his face suddenly and he yelled "Gottit!" before he seized Harry's hand and ran, half dragging Harry with him down the corridor.
He managed to drag the startled Gryffindor all the way down to the dungeons before Harry finally had the presence of mind to dig his heels in and demand an explanation. "What the HELL are you up to Malfoy?" he panted, chest heaving and sweat shining on his skin, giving Draco ideas he'd rather not entertain at that time. He turned to face Harry, glancing nervously over the brunet's shoulders for signs of impending spectators. "Look, Potter, what do you think those sickos up there would do if they thought I'd dragged you down here to pick up where we left off last night?"
Harry flushed and grinned, "Umm, demand ringside seats?" Malfoy considered this for a moment before conceding, blushing also as he recalled the moans heard in the 'audience' during their little debut onscreen. "Ok, ok… then what would they do if they thought I'd dragged you down here to lock you in my own room, just us, you and me, to make wild, mad, passionate love to you?" He tilted his head to one side, reflecting on their past antics. "Or vice versa," he murmured.
Potter had deepened to a glorious shade of maroon during this little hypothesis, "Eep," he squeaked, drawing an amused glance from the equally ruby coloured Slytherin before clearing his throat. "I guess umm, I guess they'd give us their blessings and wait to grill us for information later on?"
Draco grinned triumphantly. "Exactly and when they check that little map thing of yours and see us together in my dorm you can bet that's precisely what those sick bastards will think we're up to." Harry beamed and Draco felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. "C'mon then," he said gruffly, "S'this way."
Moments later the two were collapsing with ill concealed relief on the inner side of the Slytherin's portrait, Harry still giggling from hearing that the Slytherins password was 'Batfink'. (What? It's a perfectly good password for those who live in the dark and aspire to greatness!)
"Oh thank Merlin! Safe at last!" Draco groaned, staggering forward to sag limply, face down across a leather sofa. An odd noise had him turning his face to stare at a once again heavily blushing Harry.
"Problem, Potter?" he drawled, half muffled by his face turned into the leather.
"Its, Ummm, its 'that' sofa again."
Draco sat up, chuckling as he sat round and patted the space beside him. "C'mon, Potter, it's just furniture, it won't bite." Harry moved to sit by him, shooting him a mischievous look as he scanned Draco's throat with a searching glance. "Nope," he agreed softly, "That was me."
Draco coloured and rubbed self consciously at his throat, "Marking your territory, how dreadfully Gryffindor of you, Harry."
"Harry?" Harry purred, mocking the casual use of his name and Draco rolled his eyes, groaning in defeat and propping his feet on the low table before them. Harry laughed, copying the motion and sighing blissfully as the weight was taken from his aching feet.
"Ahhh," he sighed happily, "Much better. I am 'so' exhausted."
"Mmm," Draco concurred closing his eyes, "Thought we'd never get free from those chairs earlier or lose that lust crazed lot."
"Yeah, and Y'know…. Last night was…must have been… tiring."
"Mmm, I know what you mean, my muscles were practically screaming when I woke up today."
Harry snorted. "Oh please," he scorned, "I did all the bloody work!"
Draco's eyes shot open and he sat up, outraged. "What the hell does that mean? I did just as much work I'm sure!" Harry simply snorted again. "I did, too!" Draco yelled, "How much work could it possibly take to bloody thrust 'downwards' all the time? You've got gravity on your side! I was the one grinding up against it!"
Harry drew his feet back from the table, "Its not about direction, I was supporting my weight 'and' holding you down and…"
"You were 'not' holding me down!"
"Oh I suppose you were completely willing then were you?"
"Yeah but to start with I 'was' holding you down, holding 'me' up 'and' thrusting down against you… I think that requires significantly more effort than just writhing about beneath me."
"I was not writhing…"
"You just said you weren't struggling."
"Yeah, but I wasn't writhing, writhing makes it seem like I was just some bloody first year Hufflepuff groupie you were grinding on… now if you say I was thrusting, or thrashing, or undulating beneath you…"
"'Undulating'?" Harry smirked and Draco scowled.
"Shut it, Potter, you know what I mean... I just meant it has to be something more masculine than writhing and…"
"And you thought 'undulating' would be better?"
"Oh fuck off, Potter!"
Harry laughed softly and nudged Draco's shoulder playfully with the heel of his hand. "C'mon Malfoy, lighten up. I'm only teasing… its not like either of us really knows what it was like anyway."
"What?" Draco mumbled and Harry shook his head, blushing slightly as regret seemed to tinge his features. "I just mean… even after that whole deal with the Sneekee-Peek I've got no real memories of the events so therefore have no clue what it felt like to…" he gestured slowly, waving his hand back and forth between their bodies and Draco could almost feel the electricity crackle off of Harry's hand and onto his skin as it neared him. Harry raised an eyebrow, "Unless you…?"
"No!" Draco started, lost in trying to imagine the Gryffindor's touch and taste and fighting back the deep resentment that he had no recollection at all of such things, "No."
"Yeah," sighed Harry as he sat back, "It's a pity really, I could have done with one nice memory of you before we graduate this summer."
Draco smacked his shoulder, fighting a blush, "What, like always beating me at Quidditch's not good enough for you anymore?"
Harry smirked, "Nah…. I'm spoilt now, Malfoy, outclassing you on a broomstick's become commonplace. I've had you 'undulating' beneath me now… I'll never be the same again!" He clasped a hand to his heart and sighed dramatically, gazing lovingly at Draco.
'Shit,' Draco mused 'If I'd known just wriggling around and screaming his name when I come would make him look at me like that I'd have invited him to view my wet dreams sometime.' He blushed, glaring at Harry half-heartedly; worried that somehow the other wizard would hear his thoughts. A crooked smile played about his lips. "Oh shut up," he muttered, too lost in awareness to be truly angry.
Harry's heart faltered in his chest at the sexy half smile hovering at the edges of Draco's scowl. 'Merlin,' he whispered in his head, 'He's so beautiful.' Voice cracking slightly, smile wavering, he went back to his 'over adulation' routine. "Oh my… looks, tight trousers 'and' witty comebacks! You've 'ruined' me for other men Draco!" he scolded playfully.
Draco rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, pulling his feet back off the table, knocking a small black glass dish to the floor where an ominous death crack speared through it instantly like lightning.
"Bugger," Harry breathed, brow furrowing worriedly. Draco shot the concerned Gryffindor an amused look. Living with muggles had obviously given Potter a deeper set anxiety over ornaments, which a quick charm would put it to right in seconds, but Harry's expression was priceless.
"Yes please," Draco whispered, almost involuntarily, and Harry's head shot round.
"Come again?" he blurted, turning crimson at Draco's loud laugh before shaking his, as if to clear something from his ears. "What did you say?"
"Yes please." Harry's eyes became as round as a house elf's and Draco laughed, smothering the surge of hope and arousal that had come from Harry's keen hearing. "S'alright, Potter. Just kidding."
Harry let out a short harsh breath through his nose, trying not to look disappointed. "Oh ok," he drawled offhandedly, "pity."
Now Draco had whiplash. "What?"
"Just kidding." Both boys smirked, looked away blushing, looked back and blushed more, eyes locked, giving away nothing but mild amusement and frustration.
'So, this is how we're going to play it,' thought Draco with rising hope and libido, 'he wants me, thank you Raistlin, he wants me… but I'll be damned if I make the first move.'
'Oh Merlin he wants me! God he's so hot…. Be strong, be strong' Harry lectured himself sternly 'Let him make the first move…'
Both boys looked at the floor, then at each other, then at the floor, then at each other, then the floor…
"Oh for Fucks sake!"
"Right, that's it! I can't take it!"
Both boys exploded into movement, yelling in unison as Harry grabbed Malfoy to haul him into his lap at precisely the same time Draco dove into Harry's arms and wrapped his arms and legs about him, their lips crashing together with a mutual moan of relieved ecstasy.
"Oh gods yes… Malfoy." The words were blurred with need and lips connecting repeatedly made speech somewhat difficult. But, Draco decided, smiling into the kiss, when someone was speaking into your mouth you tended to get the gist of it.
"It's 'Draco', Potter. If you're going to fuck me, it'd better be Draco."
Harry paused in his absorbing task of unbuttoning Draco's shirt with one hand and pushing off his casual robes with the other, tongue halting on its downwards sweep towards his collarbone. He leant back slightly, raising an eyebrow at the smug Slytherin, cheeks flushed with heady arousal and triumph.
"'If' I'm going to fuck you?" he purred, shifting his hips slightly to let Draco feel exactly what plans his body had for Draco's, smiling wolfishly as a soft moan escaped the blond. "Oh you'd better be going to fuck me, Potter…"
"Harry," Harry corrected, going back to licking at Draco's throat as he pushed the now open shirt and robes off of Draco's shoulders.
"Mmm, Harry then," Draco moaned, closing his eyes as small white teeth closed about his nipple and his mind filled in the blanks with their onscreen shots from earlier, "Like I said, ah, Harry, you'd better be going to fuck me or, or…"
"Or?" Harry now murmured into the skin behind Draco's left ear, "Tell me what you'd do to me… or better yet, Draco, tell me what you want me to do to you instead."
"Fuck me." It wasn't even a whisper, more an exhalation, soft words carried on breath to Harry's ears, the effect on him instantaneous as he ground upwards into Draco, who whimpered appreciatively.
"What was that?" The Gryffindor trailed his tongue around Draco's lips, enjoying the way his eyelids flickered as if his eyes were rolling in his head at the simplest of Harry's caresses. "Fuck me." It was firmer this time and Draco forced his eyes open with some difficulty to press his lips hard against Harry's. "Fuck me now, Harry, do me hard, right here."
Harry shuddered and the action carried through to Draco's, both boys convulsing slightly against each other as they realised there was no reason for them to stop, no audience and no alcohol to blame afterwards. "You sure?" Harry croaked, his seductive tone lost in want as his eyes greedily scanned up and down the alabaster abdomen before him, a slight sheen of sweat forming as Draco's body heat picked up in relation to his mood. Draco nodded, an oddly shy smile on his otherwise determined face.
"I want you inside me, Harry." He tore at Harry's shirt as he spoke, movements frantic suddenly. "Deep," he murmured into Harry's newly exposed collarbone as Harry's shirt parted for him, "Hard." Both his robes and shirt flew off over the back of the sofa leaving the two boys chest to naked chest, straining against each other in more ways than one. "Now."
With a muffled groan, Harry fisted a hand into Draco's hair, drawing it back in amusement as it came away slick. Draco grinned, "Magic gel," he murmured, blushing as Harry trailed it down his chest to stroke into the soft line of silver blond hair extending downwards from his belly button. "Wet look, it uhh…mmmm… never dries out, unless specified…Mmm."
Harry was now circling Malfoy's bellybutton with his gelled fingers, dipping them in and out at odd intervals, leaving Draco hot and gasping in his lap, so turned on it was verging on painful.
"Harry," he pleaded, head thrashing as Harry inserted a finger deep into the sensitive dent in his flesh. "Please." Harry chuckled softly, arousal darkening his skin and eyes.
"Sorry, let me get that for you." Draco sighed in relief before yelping in surprise as Harry thrust him from his lap backwards into the sofa again, covering his body for a second, mouth plundering and hot before moving swiftly downwards. Images of the recording shot across Draco's mind two seconds before he felt the tip of Harry's tongue dip into his navel.
Draco cried out, actually screaming, every nerve cell in his body super charging into a white-hot mass behind his belly button, pleasure so intense it crossed into pain blaring through him. "Wow," Harry whispered, kissing the skin around it without repeating his actions, "you really 'are' that sensitive. Guess we'll save that erogenous zone for a day when we're both not so… needy."
Draco leaned back against the leather, stomach churning almost nauseously, sweat dripping from him, lost in wonderment at his response. Had it not been so close to actual agony to feel such pleasure he might have begged Harry to continue, but for now… he jerked suddenly as air touched his skin, Harry's clever fingers having undone his trousers. "Harry," he mumbled, tongue thick with desire, slurring before he arched, the small sweat droplets running to rivers across his flesh as Harry swallowed him whole.
Harry's head moved rapidly up and down his cock and Draco gulped and gasped, thrashing, raking hands and nails across his abdomen, fisting hands in Harry's hair as pleasure boiled and burned in the pit of his stomach. Harry released him and sat forward, capturing Draco's mouth, flavouring the hot, deep kiss with pre-come and Draco groaned loudly into Harry's mouth, lapping and sucking at his lips and tongue, feeling Harry's clever hands peeling his trousers down his hips, pushing them off with his legs.
"Feel good?" Harry whispered against his lips and Draco was on the verge of sobbing his answer.
"Yes, oh gods, yes, Harry. So good," he whimpered, hearing the words echoing in his head.
What had happened to the self-assured, kick ass, evil and 'quiet' Slytherin he'd been earlier that day? Had Harry smothered him with kisses? Would he be back or had this ferocious passion scared him off for good? Draco didn't know and as Harry's lips moved round to whisper hot promises into his ear, he didn't think he could ever care again. 'Potter and Malfoy are dead' he whispered inside himself, 'Long Live Harry and Draco.'
Harry was lost. Somewhere between kissing Draco and not kissing Draco he'd discovered that the person he'd been before had fled. Priorities had shifted, the sun, moon, earth and fates all now revolved around Draco or, more importantly, causing Draco to make those quick, gasping noises when he thrust against him, like little sparks beneath his skin had burned him. Harry knew a brief moment of satisfaction, possibly his first, that he had been the one to slay the Dark Lord Voldemort the year before. He had died by Harry's hand and could never lay his hands on what was his, couldn't mark Draco's perfect skin, couldn't tear him from Harry's arms. "Mine," he growled possessively into the curve of Draco's shoulder, biting down there, marking him as his own, thrilling to the sounds of Draco's pleasure as he felt these soft bites.
"Now, please, now… Harry," Draco sobbed, all pretence of nonchalance obliterated by Harry's touch, the odd caress upon his shaft, the unbearable friction of Harry's cloth covered cock against his own.
"You're really, really sure?" Harry hissed, hand on his zipper in readiness as Draco cried out, nodding frantically and thrusting hard against him. "What if someone comes in?" Harry whispered, unzipping and grimacing with a mixture of discomfort and pleasure as his erection sprang free.
"Don't care…" Draco mumbled, mouth full of Harry's tongue, Harry's taste, " Just... just fuck me… please. Now."
Harry began lowering himself onto Draco as realisation hit the blond and he pushed at Harry's chest, squirming. "No," he mumbled, pulling himself upright. "Not like this."
Harry drew back, hands held up away from Draco, blinking, clearly horrified. "Draco, I'm sorry, I thought you said yes, I must have... I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Draco smiled, all but purring as he took in Harry's halfway shed trousers and thick cock standing free. "Oh but I did say yes," he murmured, reaching forwards to ghost his fingers down the length of Harry's swollen shaft, revelling in the hiss of air sucked in between Harry's teeth in pleasure.
"Draco," he moaned, cut off as Draco's lips covered his, tongue plunging into every crevice and corner of Harry's mouth.
"I 'did' say yes, Harry," he whispered against Harry's lips, trying and failing to keep his questing fingers from Harry's rosy cock, "But I never said you could fuck me on my back like a girl… I may be your bitch, I may even beg you for it again and again… In fact I'm pretty sure I already have... But I do 'not' want my first time with you to be on my back like a fucking woman."
Harry smiled in relief, tongue battling briefly with his newfound lovers. "Got it... Not a girl… I'd never have guessed." Draco smacked him upside the head before reaching down to push Harry's trousers the rest of the way off his legs, leaving them both gloriously, heatedly, utterly buck naked.
"So," Draco hummed against Harry's tongue, "Now what? You seem to be the man with the plan here… what next, hot stuff?"
Harry smiled, a slow, sexy spread of his mouth, each corner tilting to reveal perfect teeth as his eyes sparkled. "You want to bottom but you don't want to 'be' the bottom?" Draco nodded, suddenly shy as he realised Harry was slightly more familiar with the terms and most likely more experienced. He was suddenly very jealous and he ground his mouth into the brunet's, trying to force all traces of any others, male or female from his skin.
"Fuck me, Harry, make me yours and you'll be mine and no one else's ever, not ever again." Harry moaned and nodded his assent, missing the blush that added to the aroused colour in Draco's cheeks, not realising he'd spoken aloud till then.
Harry pushed Draco from him slowly, smiling again. "Got a plan," he told him softly, "But first…" He ran his hands through Draco's hair, bringing them away liberally soaked in gel and for a moment Draco was lost… until he felt cool blunt fingertips probing at his entrance.
"Oh, oh god," he gasped as two slick digits slipped inside; he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders to steady himself.
"You ok, Draco?" Harry spoke softly, seriously and Draco knew with an odd sense of pride that if he said No, Harry would stop in an instant.
But he was all right; he was better than all right. He purred, rubbing his head against Harry's throat, enjoying the rumble of laughter in Harry's chest. "More," he moaned, pressing back against the hand probing him delicately, wet fingers slipping in and out, slowly stretching.
He glanced down and watched as Harry worked the other gel-slick hand up and down his shaft, leaving it glistening with moisture and Draco reached forward murmuring appreciatively, only to have his hands slapped away.
"Uh, uh!" Harry chided with a strained smile at Draco's pout, "I can barely touch myself watching you like this… if 'you' touch me…" he shuddered and Draco licked his lips as Harry's cock twitched at the mere thought. He whimpered softly then, as Harry's fingers slipped from his ass and moved to grasp Draco firmly by the hips. "Turn around, " Harry ordered huskily, adding a throaty, "You'll like this, I promise," at Draco's small frown.
Draco had seen people taken from behind before, all bent over like a dog and he really, really didn't want to be all squashed downwards where he couldn't see or touch Harry, but if he wanted that thick cock inside him… He shivered violently and Harry kissed his neck from behind. "You ok?"
Draco nodded, nearly weeping with need. "Harry, please, please now. Now."
He felt Harry bending him over slightly and knew a slight pang of regret, quickly dispelled as he felt something warm and wet and hard nudging against him. "Ready?" Draco sobbed, his answer already lost in a black hazy cloud of lust and screamed as Harry thrust in, in one clean motion, smooth and painless and better than Draco could have ever dreamed.
Draco gasped, certain he'd never breathe again, move or do anything that might ever dispel this sensation, whimpering as he felt Harry shifting, moving Draco forcibly with his hands. "C'mon Draco, this is the part where you get to ride me."
Draco shuddered at Harry's words and then again at the realisation of their meaning. He 'was' going to be on top, he just didn't know how. Harry straightened Draco up until they stood with Draco's buttocks pressed firmly into Harry's thighs, chest to back, Draco's head lolling helplessly against Harry's shoulder. "Good to go?" Harry laughed softly into his lover's ear, happier than he'd ever been simply from being inside this perfect creature, shuddering as Draco clenched inwardly as he straightened up and nodded.
Harry carefully leaned back, supporting himself on his knees and legs folded beneath him, Draco's legs separating around him so that the Slytherin sat straddling him backwards, leaving ample room for thrusting with the added bonus of being able to feel Draco's body now pressed against him. Draco moaned softly as he looked down his body to where his own proud erection stood, mourning the fact he couldn't see Harry entering his body.
At that moment Harry pulled back and pushed in again, murmuring hotly into Draco's ear about exactly how good it felt to be so deep inside him. Draco turned his head and found to his great delight as he moaned loudly at Harry's actions, that he could in fact look directly into Harry's face and kiss him just as deeply as if they'd been laying face to face.
He kissed Harry hard, pouring all his pleasure and sound into the kiss, his screams muffled as Harry angled his hips to strike that certain spot deep within the Slytherin. Draco tore his moth from Harry's as the shaking subsided, "What the fuck was that?" he rasped, breath hitching in his chest. Harry's face shone with sweat and exertion, the need to simply pound himself into Draco squeezing like a vice in his chest. "That, Draco, is your prostate. Here it is again." He grinned fiendishly and rammed himself hard against it, eliciting a shriek from Draco. It wasn't long before every stroke hit that sweet spot and Draco had given up screaming for the most part, choosing instead to arch and moan and plead and promise, biting Harry anywhere he could lay his teeth.
"Oh gods fuck, yes, Harry, oh gods yes, yes, you're so fucking big, do it to me harder, like that, yes, oh... oh, yeah, uh huh, oh, oh Mmm, yeah deeper, harder, gods YES fuck... yessssssss!"
And Harry, watching the sweat rolling in vast droplets down Draco's now unmistakably undulating form, could only hiss back during intervals where he didn't suck Draco's tongue, skin, earlobes, shoulders, pausing to bite his neck, leaving marks, filling him with an odd sense of ownership, the rights to the sweating rolling body atop him, around him.
"Mmm, you're so tight, Draco, my god, so hot, so good… gods yessssssss!"
He began pumping his still slick palm up and down Draco's straining cock, loving the whimpers of pain and pleasure mixed from the depth of Draco's arousal, the air now soaked with sweat and sex and screams. Draco could feel a burning building low in his stomach, unmistakably good, the best thing he'd ever known and he hadn't even felt it yet. Harry's thrusts were becoming more ragged now, more desperate and Draco knew he was just as close to the brink as he, possibly closer.
He turned his head into Harry's throat, needing to look away from the strong hands that rocked up and down his shaft, and, feeling a nudge at his temple from Harry's jaw, he lifted his head into an intense, possessive kiss.
Harry tightened his arms about the angel in them, hand still moving slickly as he felt the warning tremors come upon them both. 'Mine', he thought and knew again fiercely, 'Mine.' Draco felt more complete than he had ever been in his life; Harry's arms wrapped around him in every sense, cock deep in his ass, tongue lapping at his own. He felt owned, more than that... 'Needed', as if Harry thought that to let him go might make his heart stop, Draco knew his would if he did. The tremors racking them built to larger quakes within and Draco could feel the explosion nearly upon him.
"Love me, Harry," he whimpered imploringly, breaking his lips from Harry's, "please. Love me."
"Gladly," Harry sobbed back, recapturing Draco's mouth for a mili-second, tears streaking their cheeks as they stiffened, lips torn apart, both screaming their pleasure into the still Sunday air around them as Draco pumped his seed across his lover's palm, Harry's splashing hot and deep within Draco.
And the image froze and shimmered.
"See," Blaise drawled to his best friend, sprawled across the sofa. "Aren't you happy now that I left the Sneekee-peek set on you two?" Draco rolled his eyes, refusing to blush as Harry was now, regarding their mid-orgasmic poses onscreen. "Alright, alright I forgive you, but next time you think you want to play match maker do what everyone else does and pass a bloody note in class, alright? Now fuck off."
Blaise lifted an eyebrow in mock offence, "I thought you just forgave me?"
Draco smiled, winking at his mate before rising to go perch in his smiling but distinctly pink boyfriend's lap. "I do, we do. It's a great graduation present, Zabini, really, tell Granger and Weasley we said so… just… Y'know... run along would you? I have a few things I'd like to discuss with my boyfriend."
Zabini rolled his eyes, chuckled and strode from the room. Harry sighed, drawing his lover further into his lap. "At last," he purred, "I thought he'd never leave!" He looked back to the picture, marvelling at the overwhelming heat of the moment, even paused. "Not that its not a great gift... it just makes me want you all to myself."
Draco waggled his eyebrows, dipping his head to briefly capture and suck the tip of Harry's tongue, "Harry, you've got me," he murmured, reaching into his boyfriend's trousers as the world started to shimmer and go dark with need for them both once more.
Halfway to the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini smirked. He was a good friend, he decided, but a better Slytherin. His smirk spread into a full-blown smile. He was glad he left the Sneekee Peek running.