Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~3,000
Summary: One of those fics where Draco is walking around innocently and is all: Lalala, and then suddenly he finds a naked Harry Potter tied to his bed.
Warnings: Suddenly naked Potter in Draco's bed. LOL, no, wait, this warning was meant for Draco. OOPS TOO LATE. SURPRISE!
An owl swooped in just as Draco exited the prefects' bathroom. For a fleeting moment, he was convinced it was from Slughorn, informing him he had lost house points for breaking into the bathroom. He was no longer a prefect, but if one threatened the right people in the right way, it was not hard to obtain the password. And Draco always threatened the right people in the right way. It was one of his many talents.
The owl looked most displeased, possibly offended that it had to deliver a message so late. It was well past curfew and the owl stared at Draco accusingly as he accepted the note.
"Find another job if you don't like it," Draco snapped as the owl took flight and disappeared behind the corner.
After poking the note carefully with his wand, making sure it wasn't cursed, Draco opened it and stared at the barely legible scrawl in confusion.
If you harm him or humiliate him in any way, say goodbye to your bollocks. This is not an idle threat, by the way, but an actual jinx, so, please, do try. His cloak is beneath the pillow, but if you send him away, you're an idiot. Actually, you're an idiot either way, and a ponce, but whatever.
Draco frowned. "Stupid owl. Can't even deliver a message properly." The note made no sense and it was signed only with an R; it clearly wasn't meant for Draco.
Shrugging, Draco Vanished it and made his way to the dungeons.
As though the evening wasn't strange enough, when he stepped inside his dormitory, three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Draco looked down at his bathrobe self-consciously. "What?"
"We thought you were here," Nott said, frowning in the direction of Draco's bed.
"The curtains were drawn and we couldn't open them," Blaise clarified and lazily turned the page of the large tome he was reading. "We thought you were wanking."
"Again," Greg added helpfully.
Scowling, Draco walked to his bed and pulled the curtains apart. He shook his head. "Your general incompetence is astounding at times."
Blaise snorted. "Oh please, you've clearly Charmed them. Well done. Would you like a biscuit?"
"Yes, thank you." Draco nodded, puling off his bathrobe and walking around the bed to toss it over a chair. "Be a good boy and go get fetch it for me."
Blaise ignored him and Draco yawned, sat on his bed and kicked off his slippers. It was still early, but now that it was mentioned, Draco thought another slow wank sounded like a splendid idea. He had wanked in the bathtub already, but his carefully developed fantasy had ended too soon, when he had unexpectedly come thinking about Harry Potter's green eyes staring up at him as his lips wrapped around Draco's cock. The fantasy was supposed to continue; Potter was supposed to tie him up, shove him against the wall, and fuck him, but one imaginary look from those eyes and the clear desire reflected in the green, and Draco had lost it.
Unfortunately, he didn't feel like thinking about it again so soon after his orgasm; the moment had given what it could, but now, half an hour later, he was ready again. He looked forward to continuing the fantasy more than he looked forward to the second wank.
Draco turned and pointed his wand at the curtains, intending to close them, but a sudden terrifying image made him jump up in fright. He found himself standing two feet away from the bed, his heart pounding madly in his chest.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Blaise was staring at him, and so were Nott and Greg.
"Er . . ." Draco inspected his bed carefully. It looked empty and innocent, as though it hadn't just given Draco the fright of his life. "Spider. Big one."
"Right," Blaise said slowly and went back to his book. Nott snickered and Greg shuddered.
Draco took a deep breath and considered the possibility of slapping himself silly. He must have been more tired than he thought; his eyes were playing tricks on him. Nonetheless, Draco approached the bed carefully and then, hesitating, placed his hand on the silken sheets. The vision was there in an instant: Harry Potter, completely naked, fast asleep, with his wrists chained to the headboard.
"Merlin," Draco breathed. "It's Potter. Do you see him? He's —" Draco looked up at his dorm-mates. They were all ignoring him. Nott had drawn the curtains, Blaise was reading and Goyle was sleeping. "Hey! You idiots!" Draco yelled, staring at Blaise. There was no reply; none of them even looked Draco's way.
Draco snatched his hand away and Potter promptly disappeared. Fascinated, Draco did it again: hand on the sheet, Potter was there, hand off the sheet, Potter was gone.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Blaise asked suddenly. "Do you need me to come there and kill it for you or something?"
"Er . . ." Draco looked at Blaise and then to the bed again. Frowning, he kept his eyes on Blaise's very confused expression and put his hand on the sheet. Blaise had stared, but the moment Draco's hand touched the bed, he blinked, looked around in confusion and then focused on his book again as though nothing had happened.
Oh. Oh! The bed must have been Charmed, obscured, protected. His dorm-mates didn't even seem to register his presence once he touched the bed.
But that meant Potter was really there and Draco wasn't hallucinating. Potter was in his bed. Naked. And — Draco's gaze wandered downwards — aroused.
Staring at Potter's rather impressive cock, Draco climbed onto the bed. Perhaps the wiser course of action would have been alerting his Head of House that Potter had been kidnapped, but that thought died sooner than it was born. Besides . . .
If you harm him or humiliate him in any way, say goodbye to your bollocks. This is not an idle threat, but an actual jinx.
Blimey. That note was meant for him. Someone had kidnapped Potter, taken off his clothes and bound him to Draco's bed. Was it Draco's birthday? Was it Christmas? Had he done someone a favour? As far as Draco knew, the answer to all of those questions was negative. Although, it was a bit hard to think clearly at the moment. Maybe it was Christmas. At that moment, Draco wasn't even sure what time of the year it was.
His cloak is beneath the pillow.
Draco carefully pushed his hand beneath the pillows and his fingers felt a fine thin fabric, which Draco immediately recognized as Potter's Invisibility Cloak.
If you send him away, you're an idiot.
Well, clearly, Draco thought as he studied Potter's nude body. On the other hand, he was apparently risking his bollocks. This must have been some sort of cruel prank. Just in case, Draco waved his wand at the curtains and closed them.
"Potter," Draco said and shook Potter's shoulder. He pulled back quickly, though. Touching Potter's skin while Potter slept seemed terribly wrong. So wrong, Draco felt his cock stir with interest.
Potter didn't react, however, so Draco did it again, to no avail. Biting his lip, Draco pointed his wand at Potter's head. "Rennervate," he said.
Groaning, Potter stretched, his thick, dark eyelashes fluttering as he opened his eyes.
Draco clutched his wand and held his breath.
Potter looked at him groggily. He frowned, looked down at his naked body and then his head fell back against the pillows. "Not again," Potter groaned. "Merlin, what's wrong with me?"
Draco did not know how to answer that question and he was pretty sure he'd be unable to speak even if he had something to say.
The chains clicked against the headboard as Potter's arms twitched. Potter looked up at them and groaned again. "Seriously?" he asked the chains, as though he believed they had appeared around his wrists of their own volition. Then he looked at Draco again, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed into a pout. "I hate you," Potter said with feeling. "Why must you do this to me? It's completely unfair. You're such a git."
Draco found his voice at once. "I didn't do this! And you're a git. This is my bed you've polluted with your . . ." Draco waved at Potter's current state of nudity, but couldn't find it in him to insult Potter's appearance. Merlin, who knew this was what Potter was hiding beneath his ugly clothes? Draco had imagined Potter naked more than once, but now all his fantasies hurriedly evaporated, ashamed of their own inadequacy.
"Yes, yes, yes, I realize you didn't do this. You don't have to remind me," Potter said impatiently. And illogically, in Draco's opinion. If he were Potter, he'd definitely think Draco had done this. Potter squirmed, which was a delicious sight to behold, so Draco beheld it with reasonable interest. "Now come on, let's get this over with," Potter said, still sounding impatient but also a bit eager.
"Um." Draco cocked his head. "Pardon?"
Potter rolled his eyes. "Fuck me, ride me, suck me off, whatever. Just be quick about it."
Draco approached Potter carefully, scooting closer on his knees, and peered curiously into Potter's eyes. "Have you been Confunded?"
"I'm asleep, you idiot." Potter shook his head at him sadly, as though he could not comprehend how Draco wasn't aware of something so obvious. Excitement bubbled inside Draco. Potter thought he was dreaming. Not again, he had said, which meant he had dreamed about this before. Dreamed about Draco before.
"I see." Draco stretched his body alongside Potter's, not quite aware he was doing it. Potter's warmth and solidity felt too good not to be taken advantage of. "So this is a dream, then?" Draco asked warily.
"The kind of dream you usually dream?" Draco leaned in, drawn to Potter's lips. "The sort of thing you like to fantasize about?"
"We usually talk less," Potter said grumpily, his eyes focused firmly on Draco's lips.
"And what do we do, then? This?" Draco pressed his lips to Potter's; they were suspiciously sweet, but Draco didn't mind. He licked off the sweetness, teasing for a moment before he kissed Potter properly. Potter's low moan sent vibrations through Draco's lips; he felt them all the way to his toes. Draco's head spun and, dismayed, he realized he had forgotten to breathe. He pulled back and blinked, staring at Potter's dazed expression. Which promptly cleared and turned to disbelief. Potter's eyes had grown wide and much greener.
"This is not a dream," Potter said, frozen, before he began to struggle, pulling on the bonds wildly. "Merlin! Release me this instant! What do you think you're doing?"
Draco's head was still spinning. Surely a mere kiss hadn't been the cause? He felt positively drugged.
"Knock it off, Potter. I'm not the one who brought you here." With some effort, Draco found his wand and shot an Ending Spell at Potter's wrists. Potter jumped up and went straight for the curtains. "Slytherins!" Draco cried and Potter promptly fell back, breathing heavily.
When Draco's vision finally cleared, he found himself staring at the tip of his own wand, gripped tightly in Potter's hand. "You kidnapped me?" Potter looked furious. "You bloody kidnapped me?"
"I most certainly did not! I found you here." Draco narrowed his eyes. Amused, he noticed Potter had wrapped the sheet around his bare hips, hiding his privates. "If you want someone to blame I think you should point that at someone a bit more ginger."
Potter's expression went blank and then his lips parted and formed a perfect O. An O Draco very much wanted to kiss, if not for the wand aimed at his head.
"Ron Stunned me," Potter breathed. "Merlin, I remember now. He said —" Potter blushed suddenly.
"He's tired of hearing you moaning my name in your sleep?" Draco suggested, feeling unusually bold.
"Well, yes," Potter said and then quickly closed his mouth as though he had said something he hadn't meant to say.
Draco's confusion cleared at once. He now knew the cause of his dizziness, the grogginess, the sugary aftertaste; these were all side effects of a Truth Potion. It must have been on Potter's lips and when Draco kissed him . . . Oh Merlin, and he had licked Potter's lips so thoroughly. It was likely it had affected Draco more than Potter.
You have to leave, Draco thought, but couldn't make his lips say the words. "Your Invisibility Cloak is under there," he said instead and pointed at the pillow.
Potter didn't even glance in that direction. He licked his lips carefully, frowned, and then looked at Draco through narrowed eyes. Draco could practically seethe wheels in Potter's head turning. "You kissed me," Potter said suddenly. "Why?"
Fuck. Draco bit down on his bottom lip hard and cursed inwardly. He couldn't stop himself, however. "Because I wanted to. Because you're the most kissable person I have ever seen in my entire life. Because I've wanted to kiss you for months now. Maybe longer. Because . . . Sweet Merlin." Mortified, Draco pressed a hand over his mouth, forcibly closing his lips. It didn't help much. Potter lunged forward, grabbed Draco's wrists and wrestled him backwards. Draco ended up lying down, with his wrists pinned to the pillow and Potter on top of him. He was staring down at Draco, apparently no longer caring that he was naked.
"You don't hate me?" Potter asked, looking fascinated. "I thought you hated me."
"Hate you? I think I'm in love with you." Draco gasped. "I'm going to kill Weasley. And that's the truth!"
"I think I'll buy him a new broom," Potter breathed. He looked utterly shocked. "And books. For Hermione. Lots of books. She clearly helped him." Potter was shaking his head, staring at Draco as though he had never seen him before. "I love my friends."
"They're vile," Draco said, but then Potter kissed him and murmured, "And I love this," against Draco's lips and Draco hurriedly forgave Potter's friends and vowed to buy them all the broomsticks and books they could ever possibly want.
And then Potter squirmed and wriggled his hips, and his cock pressed right against Draco's, rubbing along the silken fabric of Draco's pyjamas, and Draco forgot everyone and everything except Potter and the talented way he moved his hips. And his tongue, which wrapped around Draco's, making him dizzy again.
The grip on Draco's wrists loosened and Draco grumbled in displeasure. "Tighter," he gasped and Potter promptly obeyed, tightened his grip and kissed Draco with renewed vigour. The slow slide of his hips turned frantic and Draco shivered, losing his breath.
It lasted far too short and soon they were lying down in a messy, sticky tangle of limbs.
"I can't believe you're wearing silken pyjamas, sleep on silken sheets, surrounded by silken curtains," Potter murmured against Draco's neck.
Draco's fingers were sliding against Potter's bare shoulder. "And now I have a boyfriend with silken skin." Draco winced and closed his eyes. "Salazar."
Potter laughed and raised his head. "If you like, I could keep kissing you until the potion wears off." Potter batted his eyelashes modestly. "With my silken lips."
Draco grinned, fighting a blush. "I think I know of another way to shut my mouth," he said and flipped them over with ease. Potter was utterly relaxed in his arms.
"Oh?" Potter sounded hopeful.
"What was it you requested? Fuck me, ride me, suck me off?"
It was Potter's turn to blush, and he did so prettily. Draco smacked himself mentally; even his mind was forced to think the truth.
"I can't promise I'll do it in that order, though," Draco added and bent down to trail a line of kisses against Potter's chest. "And I certainly won't be quick about it."
Potter grinned. "That's quite all right."
In the Gryffindor Tower, Ron Weasley sat in front of the fireplace and stared mournfully at the Marauder's Map, and a tiny dot labelled jointly with Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
Hermione patted his back. "It was your idea," she said exasperatedly.
"Yes, well, Malfoy was supposed to do something vile. And then Harry would realize he's a git and Malfoy would lose his bollocks. He was supposed to lose his bollocks, Hermione."
"Would you please stop mentioning Malfoy's bollocks? I'm beginning to think you're obsessed."
Ron ignored her. "Do you reckon it looks like the little dot is shaking?"
Hermione snatched the map from Ron's hands. "It's bouncing," she concluded and rolled up the old yellow parchment.
"Stupid bouncing ferret," Ron grumbled.
Hermione patted his back again and pressed a kiss to his lips. "At least Harry is happy. That's what matters, isn't it?"
Ron nodded. "I guess." He pulled Hermione closer and frowned, thinking. "We're keeping the "if you hurt him, you'll lose your bollocks" jinx in place, right?"
Hermione snorted. "Of course."