The Intangible Empire

One-shot H/D NC-17

2007-12-26T14:45:54Z

Title/Prompt: Draco Malfoy: In a Skirt
Authors: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: none (yet)
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Draco loses a bet. The consequences involve a very short skirt and a public situation.
Status: One-Shot. Possible continuation.
Categories: Smut. Humour. Skirts. ;) (Alcohol)
Comments make me happy! :)

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“Oh my God, I don’t believe it!” Ron cried, grinning from ear to ear, before shear mirth overcame him. He doubled over, slapping his knee with one hand, the other arm wrapped around his stomach for support as he cackled manically, occasionally attempting, but failing spectacularly, to form words. Harry raised his eyebrows and smirked in amusement at his best friend as the pounding music drowned out the majority of Ron’s outburst. Harry then let his eyes wander over to the source of Ron’s delight, and nearly dropped his Firewhiskey when his gaze landed on Draco Malfoy. Lit only by the floating candle-holding bubbles of various flickering colours, was the Slytherin Prefect, who was standing just inside the elaborate, and warded, entry to the large, dimly lit and stunningly decorated chamber. The entire room was currently filled to bursting point with fifth, sixth and seventh year students, each in various states of progression towards drunken oblivion, most of whom were dancing to the pulsating rhythms.

Harry quickly realized that he and Ron were not the only ones who were currently fixated on Malfoy. More specifically, his attire. Draco Malfoy was wearing a skirt. A very short skirt. It was white and pleated and seemed to change colour as the dancing globes of enchanted candle-light splashed teasingly across its fabric. Draco’s shoes and shirt seemed screamingly out of place; a stylish and no doubt fancifully expensive pair of black dress shoes, and similarly extravagant Slytherin-green silk dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just under the elbows and the top buttons undone, leaving the collar of the shirt fashionably open to reveal a glimpse of flawless, almost translucent, alabaster skin and jutting collar bones. Though Harry’s brain barely registered any of this it all. Draco’s tiny skirt was indeed of greater interest, or perhaps it was his rarely seen legs. They were long and slightly but definitively muscled, and as astonishingly pale and flawless as the rest of his skin. Furthermore, from Harry’s distance, seemingly hairless.

Harry eyes bulged in amazement and he let out a short laugh as his jaw dropped, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, he looked back at Ron, who seemed to be at serious risk of suffocating from raucous laughter. Harry looked back at Malfoy, to his face this time, and found that he looked positively livid and his cheeks had blossomed an interesting shade of crimson. A few stray locks of Malfoy’s perfectly preened white-blond hair had slipped from behind ears and swung across his high, aristocratic, now blushing, cheekbones. He shoved the hair back roughly, and had apparently had enough of making a spectacle of himself, for his facial expression clearly read “Just Fuck Off”, and he stormed straight to the nearest source of alcohol and was instantly consumed by the thronging crowd, most resembling Ron’s current state, and Malfoy was consequently obscured from Harry’s vision.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, through bouts of laughter. Ron seemed to have somewhat composed himself and picked up another bottle of Vodka-inspired refreshment and took a hearty swig, his reddened cheeks clashing alarmingly with his hair. Harry thought perhaps it was both laughter and alcohol colouring his friend’s freckled face.

“Yeah, I didn’t think he’d go through with it either!” exclaimed Ron, still overjoyed, clapping Harry on the shoulder in excitement, causing Firewhiskey to slop onto the stone floor, though Harry paid it little attention.

“Go through with what?” Harry asked, though it didn’t really matter to Harry: Malfoy was humiliated and pissed off and Harry wanted to shake someone’s hand. Vigorously. Harry took another mouthful, he loved Firewhiskey, it burned in all the right places: flowing hotly down the back of his throat then warming his belly, as his pulse responded appreciatively.

Ron began informing Harry enthusiastically, though his efforts were happily hampered by copious amounts of drinking. “Fuck, I thought you knew mate! Everyone knows, well everyone but you, Harry, but only because Wood threatened to hex the person who let you find out. He looked really bloody scary, a bit like he was channeling Moody, he thought it might put you off if you knew.” Harry knew there was a point to this explanation, surely. Ron finished his drink and belched loudly in accomplishment, then ploughed on, “See, this bunch of crafty Raveneclaws, clever buggers they are, made a bet with Malfoy. See, they bet him that he could beat you to the snitch in last week’s Quidditch match. Everyone knew that poncy twat had no chance! But there was no way he was going to admit that you were better than at anything! And you trampled him! This is –hic- this, is his punishment, for losing the bet. ” Ron looked extremely pleased. Harry grabbed them both another drink from a hovering tray as it drifted past and Harry joined Ron in a loud “Cheers!” and more drinking. Harry loved alcohol. And he really loved Ron. And he loved that Malfoy was pissed. And he really loved that Malfoy was in a skirt. And he really loved Malfoy’s legs, because they were fucking hot. And he wanted to tease Malfoy about them because they looked a bit girly, he just wouldn’t mention that they were really quite, um, sexy. Harry wouldn’t actually mind too much if Malfoy strutted past.

Harry and Ron sat slumped, blissfully buzzed, on a comfortable couch with Seamus, Dean and Nev, who was actually quite successful with the ladies when he was bit pissed, Harry supposed it was because Nev forgot to be clumsy. Through the haze of a strange magical smoke that had materialized from somewhere and seemed to be steadily multiplying, Hermione emerged, weaving and stumbling around non-existent obstacles, giggling and clutching onto Ginny for support. There were both flushed and shining with perspiration. Ron watched them, eyes glazed, licking his lips, “Fuck, she’s so – fucking - I just – Harry, I want her,” he moaned. Harry smiled.

“Hey guys,” Hermione announced brightly.

Ginny hiccupped and flopped down next to Dean, her head dropping onto his shoulder.

“You really should come and dance, it’s crazy out there!” Hermione yelled over the music.

Harry knew that drunk or not, Ron would have agreed to wrestle a fully grown Blast-Ended Screwt if it meant having an excuse to touch Hermione as much dancing near her promised. It took Ron four goes to get onto his feet, and that was only after Hermione had grabbed his hands to help pull him up and he had stumbled into her, making her giggle, and Ron began apologizing incoherently, staring down the front of her dress from his vantage point. Harry smirked. Hermione appeared oblivious to Ron’s drooling and instead insisted on Harry coming to dance with them too.

Harry found that the dance floor felt even more crowded than it looked as he blindly followed Ron, who was busy staring at the hem of Hermione’s uncharacteristically short dress as she led them to an area of the dance floor that was just as crowded, if not more so than the rest of the place. And Harry was certain that on the way there he’d had his denim clad arse grabbed. Twice.

Having successfully arrived at her chosen destination, Hermione began to dance, moving her body in time with the now louder music. Ron stood staring, so Harry elbowed him and yelled in his ear “Dance, you flobberworm! Dance!” Ron raised his eyebrows into his messy red fringe as Hermione executed a complicated step involving her arms reaching above her head and swaying her hips as her dress rode up, apparently unbeknownst to her. Harry nudged Ron again and Ron began to distractedly attempt to co-ordinate his gangly, awkward limbs and oversized feet without taking his eyes off Hermione. Harry smiled, Ron actually wasn’t doing too badly and when Hermione suddenly grabbed Ron’s hand and demanded playfully ‘Spin me!’ Ron did so, and he did not let go. Harry smiled again.

Harry knew he was a shit dancer, he’d learnt that last year at the stupid Yule Ball, but he didn’t care at the moment, not at all, he just moved around a bit and that was more than sufficient given the limited space. Well, at least he thought so.

“Potter!” a voice behind him suddenly exclaimed.

Harry span around to find Malfoy no more than half a foot away from him, and given they were only this close when Harry wanted to, or was actually in the process of punching Malfoy, it was a bit odd. In fact, Malfoy looked a bit odd. He appeared disheveled: covered in a sheen of sweat, some of his hair sticking wetly to his pink-tinged face, his eyes glazed and unfocused, and Harry was sure a few extra buttons were undone. And he was still wearing the skirt, and he was obviously totally hammered. He smelt like Firewhiskey.

“Nice skirt,” Harry leered.

“Shut-up,” Malfoy drawled, before he was jostled heavily in the back and fell forward, straight into Harry, who instinctively caught him only through his somewhat alcohol hindered Seeker reflexes. Malfoy’s body was entirely supported by Harry’s arms, one under Malfoy’s armpit, which was rather awkward really, and the other wrapped around his waist, Malfoy’s knees were bent and he was barely upright.

Malfoy looked up at him and blinked owlishly. “You smell nice,” he said in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone. Harry felt surprisingly Good about smelling nice. Harry snorted and attempted to right Malfoy, but the crowd seemed to have swelled and Malfoy had literally nowhere to go. Though Malfoy didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact, he was still busy smelling Harry’s shirt, until Harry pulled him upright, at which point Malfoy decided to rest his head on Harry’s shoulder, as he continued to inhale Harry’s scent.

“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing?”

This was not what Harry had had in mind at all, though he couldn’t be certain what it was he had actually had been thinking at the time when he decided to effectively hold Malfoy in a very confined space. Harry couldn’t seem to at all reconcile the boy who had royally pissed him right off for five years running, and the blonde swaying drunkenly in his embrace, wearing a skirt and complementing him on his haphazard choice of guy-perfumy-stuff at “Warlock Fernando’s Finest Fragrances: since 1444.” Harry started to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but he certainly felt no ill-will toward Malfoy. Not right now anyway. If anyone grilled him for it, he’d blame the Firewhiskey. And, oh dear Merlin, that skirt.

Malfoy stopped moving and looked up at him. “You laughing at my dancing?” his voice slurred.

“No,” Harry replied smiling, not aware of Malfoy’s ‘dancing’ at all, “definitely not.”

“Good, Potter. Because you can’t do any better.”

Harry laughed again but felt an entirely nonnegotiable urge to prove Malfoy wrong, and began swaying his hips purposefully, attempting to keep in rhythm with the music. It wasn’t as hard as he had expected and he thought he was doing quite well, thank you very much. It felt very odd moving so intimately against a warm body, and considering it Malfoy, he was surprised he wasn’t more unnerved. He didn’t care. Harry decided he might try to use his arms too, really show off the new-found dancing skills, but upon releasing Malfoy, Malfoy’s arse promptly threatened to have an up close and personal encounter with the floor and Malofy’s hands clutched at any part of Harry they could reach. Apparently he still couldn’t stand properly. Harry haphazardly righted Malfoy again whilst the other boy found purchase on Harry’s biceps. For his efforts, Harry was greeted with a rather weak impersonation of Malfoy’s usual ‘death glare’.

“Potter! Honestly! Are you that incapable? Or are you just trying to make my skirt fly up for your own perverted enjoyment?”

Harry found it amusing that Malfoy was accusing him of being incapable when Malfoy was the one that couldn’t stand on his own. But seeing Malfoy land on his arse and embarrass himself, skirt upturned to boot, flashing his underwear, would be bloody funny. And perhaps, um, a little bit sexy.

No, no not sexy at all.

Harry smiled at the image. Malfoy tried to glare again, but it looked like too much effort, and instead his head dropped back onto Harry’s shoulder and he mumbled quietly, “Potter, I’m tired. I want to sit down.”

Harry looked down at Malfoy’s blond hair and could feel his not-so-steady breathing against his chest, his hands still holding Harry’s biceps, but the grip had loosened. Harry’s hands had slid to Malfoy’s hips, he could feel his protruding hipbones under the silk of his shirt. Harry moved his hands ever so slightly, in slow up and down motions he wasn’t sure why he was making. He could feel the top of the skirt, and it sent a thrill through his body. Malfoy was in a skirt, a tiny skirt, and if Harry wanted to, right now, he could slide his hands just a bit lower, and up under the skirt and grab two sweet, warm handfuls of Malfoy’s arse. And oh, he Wanted to. He wondered what kind of underwear Malfoy was wearing. Was it girly? A skimpy g-string? And white, like the skirt? Was that part of the dare too?

Malfoy mumbled something incoherent and threatened to fall, despite Harry’s grip. Harry stopped the slow swaying rhythm he’d been instinctively maintaining and pulled back from Malfoy, untangling himself, because in addition to their hands on each other, their legs had become somewhat intertwined, and Harry’s right foot had ended up between Malfoy’s two expensive shoes.

Malfoy looked even more dazed than before and both very drunk, and very tired, his eyes so dilated that his ice-blue-grey irises could barely be seen. Harry felt suddenly oddly protective the drunken boy in this incredibly short skirt, and decided the only to get them off the dance floor was to grab Malfoy’s hand and pull him close and boldly push his way through the largely oblivious crowd of smashed teenagers. Under any other circumstance, Harry was sure he’d just leave him. Probably.

Malfoy’s hand felt so warm and soft in his own, and it made his hand tingle oddly. It actually felt quite nice. As they began to weave their way through the mass of students, Harry heard Malfoy shout something at someone and Harry turned back find him looking very angry and smoothing his skirt down his thigh with his free hand, trying to hold it down. Harry turned to the direction Malfoy was glaring, but found no-one paying them any attention at all. Harry’s protective urge swelled and he pulled Malfoy even closer and whispered, “You go in front”, and then positioned Malfoy in front of him and wrapped his arms around him as Malfoy swayed dangerously and Harry wondered if he would have to carry him out.

Eventually, after Malfoy shoved several people out of the way, in typical Malfoy style, the crowd thinned and Harry and Malfoy came to stop, turning to face each other.

“Let’s get you back to your dorm,” Harry whispered softly, eyes earnest though he licked his lips.

Malfoy gave him a confused look, so Harry leaned in and repeated himself, this time yelling.

Malfoy shook his head defiantly, succinctly replying “Need to sit down,” then promptly turned and stumbled away. Harry didn’t know why, but his feet were following Malfoy. After some time, it became apparent that the Slytherin was leading Harry to an out-of-the way and empty corner which was so darkly lit that Harry couldn’t tell that it actually was the edge of the cavernous room and there was in fact a large couch in it facing the dark stone wall, until they were mere feet from it. And it too was unoccupied, until Malfoy fell into its soft, cushiony surface with a look of bliss on his uncharacteristically expressive face, his eyes closed, long lashes catching the fleeting glimmer of a stray blue candle-bubble. One leg was laid flat on the long couch, the other was bent at right angles, his foot still planted on the floor, and his thighs were splayed, the pleats of his skirt unfolding, dipping slightly between creamy thighs. Malfoy let both arms lay straight back, hands palm up, causing his shirt to ride up, revealing a streak of more of that delicate, perfect skin and the dip between his hips. Malfoy was beautiful. So, so beautiful. Harry stared as Malfoy seemed to gently change colour with each hovering candle-bubble that floated close enough to embrace the pair in its glow.

Malfoy suddenly opened his eyes, as if realising he was being watched. Harry just stared back. Then, heart pounding, breathing heavily, took those final few steps, closing the space between them, and before he could stop himself, even if wanted to, even if tried, he carefully positioned one knee against the back of the couch and the other between Malfoy’s knees, then placed his forearms either side of his chest, eyes locked with Malfoy’s. Harry licked his lips, waited for a moment, just to watch, just to see if Malfoy stopped him. He didn’t. So Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Malfoy’s. Harry thought his heart was going to burst through his chest; it was beating so hard, so fast. Malfoy’s lips were soft, Merlin, they were so soft, and little bit wet, Malfoy must have licked them at some point. Harry drew back slightly, taking a few much needed gulps of air, then slid his lips against Malfoy’s, moaning. It was bliss. He’d found Heaven. Malfoy’s hips rocked up, finding Harry’s and pushing in a slightly stuttered motion as he too moaned, his arms wrapping around Harry’s body, as if he were some kind of life raft. Harry could feel his hands, making slow circles, the nails occasionally pressing into his skin, and Harry’s arms seemed to give way and he pulled back, hoping he hadn’t hurt Malfoy by collapsing on him like that.

“Fuck, sorry.”

Malfoy wrapped his arms tighter and began nuzzling Harry’s neck. And, oh, dear Merlin.

“Not squashing you am I, Malfoy? ” Harry whispered.

“Draco. And no.” Draco sounded totally out of breath, his voice pitched much lower than usual.

Harry too, tried to breathe, tried to position himself better, he wanted to kiss Draco again. He slid slightly onto his side, his back to the back of the couch and Draco wiggled against him and then they stilled and just looked at each other again. And then Draco lent in, and they were kissing again and Harry was drowning in it, his lips moving softly against Draco’s, making tiny wet noises that made Harry’s body shudder and cock ache. The slow rhythm intensifying as they started to pant, Harry leaning in again, open mouthed, but before their lips touched, Harry felt Draco’s tongue, just the tip, against his. The smallest lick, their twin moans becoming indistinguishable, their hips bucking then finding a slow rhythm as Harry slid a leg between Draco’s, feeling the soft fabric of the skirt crumple and ride up against his denim covered thigh. They were both breathing heavily, Harry’s face tense in concentration and need, as he leaned in again, more purposefully, finding tongue and sealing their lips. Harry slid his tongue against Draco’s, it was so wet and felt big and perfect. Harry coaxed him into his mouth and sucked on it gently. Draco moaned and began to buck wildly in abandon, his hands clutching Harry’s sides, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Harry slid his hand down, finding the hem of the skirt and pushing it up, feeling the curve of Draco’s arse, unbelievably soft skin, slid further up, hooking the band of – Oh Dear Merlin – something lacy and very skimpy, surprisingly stretchy. Draco was moaning wantonly as Harry’s tongue began to plunder every inch of the blond’s mouth, whilst his hands slid around, finding Draco’s throbbing, hot cock, slick with more pre-come than previously conceivable and Harry gripped it and slid his hand up and down the shaft, then up, thumbed the head, Draco thrusting even harder than before, sounds of “uhn, uhg, ungh” then he cried out, face contorting, mouth open as his entire body shook with release and thick, hot cum flooded into Harry’s hands as Draco’s thrusting stuttered then slowed as he keened softly. Harry couldn’t remember being this hard before. His body felt so tight, he was throbbing, and Merlin, he needed to get his cock out of his jeans now. And he wanted to make Draco do that again, and again, and again. Harry captured his mouth, Draco moving slowly and languidly in his afterglow, as Harry somehow managed to get his jeans undone and a hand down his pants and he came almost straight away, exploding hotly over their shirts and Draco’s rumpled skirt as his body quaked with release. He opened his eyes to find Draco watching him, smiling. Harry smiled back and kissed Draco gently before sleep overcame them both.

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One-shot (angst)

2007-09-11T07:42:38Z

Title: Breaking Point
Authors: Tangible Magic
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry/Snape (if you squint)
Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Missing scene in OoTP
Status: One-Shot
Categories: Drama. Angst

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Harry was still shaking. The bitterly cold air assaulted his goosebumped skin, penetrating the thin night shirt that was sticking to his sweat drenched body, as each breath stabbed at his lungs. The only sound was that of two pairs of footsteps echoing off the dark stone walls. He was aware of Snape’s bony hand wrapped around his forearm, dragging him down the ever descending spiral stair case, sinking into colder and yet colder air. Voldement had been inside his thoughts, his mind, him. He felt violated, tainted – by something more than evil. His mind was reeling. His scar was going to explode, and his pounding headache would mercilly cease as his head itself simply split open.

He fault nausea rolling through him, threatening to overcome him again, he could still taste his vomit. His legs were shaking weakly and each step became more perilous. The edges of his vision began to blur into darkness as the pain throbbing through his skull took hold. The next step proved too much, it was all too much, the pain, the death, the guilt, he had been the snake.

Harry’s leg collapsed and he stumbled down the stone steps, slipping into the solid form of Snape. Harry flung out his arm to grab hold of something to stop himself falling, and he found a fistful of fabric. Snape’s grip on his other arm tightened and Harry’s feet slipped downward, trying to find solid ground. Harry felt a second hand slip round his waist and then everything was still, his face buried in soft robes, his nose stinging from the impact as he breathed in a familiar scent. A panicked sob split the deafening silence, jarring Harry to his senses. He couldn’t break, not now, not in front of Snape. Not when he had to complete Dumbledore’s urgent request – to prevent Voldemort accessing his mind again.

Harry pulled away from the warmth and tried to even out his breathing, his blurring vision focused on the stone beneath his slippers as he moved past Snape and descended the remaining stairs. He placed a hand on the door to Snape’s quarters, found it unlocked and entered.
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One-shot H/D/C NC-17

2007-09-11T07:18:41Z

Title: By Invitation Only
Authors: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cedric/Harry/Draco
Spoilers: Goblet of Fire
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Harry accepts Cedric’s invitation and gets way more than he bargained for.
Status: One-Shot (at this point in time)
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations. (Make them whatever age you like, that's why is called fan-fic.)
Categories: Smut, first-time.

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"Mischief Managed. Nox," Harry breathed, then tucked the map and his wand inside his robe, fumbling slightly in the dark, and then whispered, "Pine Fresh." He pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head and stuffed it too into his robe. His hands explored the darkness before him, eagerly grasping the door handle that had appeared only moments before. He silently turned the handle and pushed the door open, then slipped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud, before the door itself disappeared into solid wall.

The shimmering bathroom was lit only by the soft glow of hundreds of tiny candles hovering somewhere near the high, sweeping ceiling. The enormous bath before him was overflowing with clouds of fluffy bubbles in deepest blue. Harry shrugged his robe off, smiling at Cedric as he floated, smirking, in the sweet-scented water. Harry could feel the humidity seeping through his robes as his temperature began to rise.

“Took your time, Potter,” Cedric sent Harry a smouldering glance from beneath his long, dark, wet lashes, gliding playfully in the steaming water.

Harry’s pulse began to pound even harder as he hastened to remove his shoes, hands trembling. He had been desperately hoping for this, Cedric’s invitation playing over and over again in his mind – “Prefect’s bathroom, on the fifth floor … not a bad place for a bath”, the mischievous smile flickering in his eyes, ”mull things over in the hot water.”

Harry smiled to himself as he removed his second shoe and pulled off his socks, followed quickly by his trousers. He tried to pull his shirt over his head, but found himself caught on the buttons. He heard Cedric laugh softly. He must look ridiculous.

A sudden clicking echoed through the bathroom, followed instantly by a thud, a mumbled word, a click, and the sound of someone breathing heavily. Harry could hear the water crashing over the edge of the bath and Cedric’s voice ringing out in the silence, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Harry struggled with his shirt, glasses digging into the bridge of his nose, as he panicked, thoughts exploding in his mind – someone else is in the bathroom!

“Me?” What the fuck am I doing? I think I should be asking you same, Diggory. And who’s this then?”

That voice, Harry knew that voice - his shirt ripped as buttons snapped off - that arrogant drawl, cocky, victorious and somewhat shocked. Harry wrenched his shirt over his head, and repositioned his glasses only to find himself staring at Draco Malfoy.

“Potter!”, Malfoy’s smirk was more pronounced than ever, his eyes wide with astonished delight. He laughed viciously, “I heard the rumours, but fuck!”

Harry glared him, he had been about to get into that bath with Cedric, after so much longing, and the waiting and Cedric was naked, in the bath, waiting for him. Harry’s panic was quickly overcome by anger.

“And just what the fuck are you doing, Malfoy? You aren’t a prefect, and isn’t it past your bedtime? Filch is doing the rounds tonight, even Snape wouldn’t be able to refuse you a detention if you were found out of bed this late...”

“Potter, I’m not the one half naked with Diggory,” he laughed again, loud and raucous, indicating at Harry’s current state of undress. “Wait til I tell Skeeter about this!”

Harry’s face grew red as he desperately wished he still had all his clothes on, and then maybe he could reach inside his robe and grab his wand so he could Obliviate Malfoy. Or perhaps something worse…

Cedric’s voice cut the silence, sounding unaffected by Malfoy’s sudden appearance, “Forget him Harry. Come on, get in.”

Draco looked as though he had slapped in the face by a wet fish, “What? What the fuck did you just say?”

Harry’s gaze flickered between the two boys. Cedric’s skin glistening golden in the water, trickles sliding down his suddenly exposed chest. It looked so muscled, so smooth, and Merlin, those nipples. His brain seemed to shut off. Harry pulled off his glasses, placed them on his crumpled robe, he considered removing his boxers - but not while Malfoy was just staring at him. He strode purposefully toward the tub, his back to Malfoy. A smile spread across his lips as he reached the edge of the pool and lowered himself through the thick foam of bubbles and into the hot, delicious water. His eyes never left Cedric’s.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking. No-fucking-way. You two are actually-?” Malfoy’s face contorted in disgust, and he turned back toward the door and made to open it. But the door wasn’t there, and try as Draco might, it seemed as though it was refusing to appear. Cedric and Harry looked on as Malfoy drew his wand and cast several spells, which Harry recognised as unlocking charms. None seemed to be working, and Malfoy was becoming visibly frustrated, “What the fuck did I lock it with?”

Cedric laughed again, and Harry looked over. He was still at the other end of the bath, apparently amused by Malfoy, “You used a locking spell which can only be lifted from the other side.” Harry began laughing too, grinning from ear to ear at Cedric as he spoke, enjoying Malfoy’s frustration.

Malfoy wheeled around as the realisation dawned on him. “Well if Filch hadn’t been fucking chasing me, maybe I would have had a second to think!” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry smirked, “Too bad Malfoy, guess you’re stuck in here with us.” He felt hands snaking their way around his stomach, and a hard, wet chest press against his back. He could feel Cedric’s nipples. They were hard. Every inch of skin pressed against him made his skin tingle. “Until someone finds us,” Cedric whispered softly against the shell of Harry’s ear, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin just behind his earlobe. Harry’s felt as though his heart was going to burst through his chest, and he felt heat pooling somewhere below his navel. His mouth fell open in surprise at how good the simple touch felt. He leaned back and let his hands glide over his own body until they found Cedric’s. His eyes were glazed over, his breathing had become louder, and he could feel the water lapping higher and higher at his skin as Cedric led him into the deeper end of the tub. The sweet scented steam that had engulfed him made him feel so relaxed, and slightly light-headed. Perhaps that was just Cedric.

Malfoy’s jaw dropped open, his eyes wide. Cedric smirked over Harry’s shoulder as Harry look up from beneath lowered eyelids. Harry could hear Cedric’s voice, rough and husky, ghosting against his over-sensitised skin, “So why are you in here anyway, Malfoy?” he didn’t wait for a reply, “a bath, I assume?”

Malfoy looked like a fish, his mouth opening and closing several times, yet he remained silent.

Harry smirked, “Scared Malfoy? The bath’s plenty big enough, you know.”

The simple question had Malfoy suddenly snarling in response, his body stirring to life, “I may be a lot of things, Potter. But a Malfoy does not feel scared.” He abruptly began to undress in a flurry of haphazard movements, yet he still managed to disrobe with more elegance than Harry. Cedric’s hands were moving, lightly brushing back and forth over Harry’s chiselled stomach, slowly mover lower, fingertips teasing his navel. Harry was glad he in water, because without the weightlessness and Cedric’s arms around him, he wasn’t sure he’d still be standing.

Draco’s trousers landed with a clink as his belt hit the tiles. He stood staring, transfixed by Cedric’s smouldering eyes as they traced the newly exposed skin, and the hint of tenting in Draco’s boxers. Harry’s mouth was open, his lips wet from the unconscious licking, his eyes completely unfocussed.

“Waiting for something, Malfoy?” Cedric baited.

Cedric suddenly turned Harry in his arms, pulling him close, and looked down at him. Cedric’s lips were pink and open and wet, and so, so soft as they pressed against Harry’s. Cedric’s hands slid down Harry’s back, until he was grasping two firm handfuls of Harry’s arse and kneading them through his saturated cotton boxers, while his tongue persuaded Harry to open his mouth. Harry moaned, his body jerking as Cedric squeezed. Cedric’s tongue was wet and smooth and too big as it slid past his lips into his mouth, gliding over Harry’s tongue.

There was a loud splash as Malfoy entered the water, sending waves crashing against Harry’s skin, and causing him to lose balance slightly and fall into Cedric’s chest. Cedric’s arms encircled Harry and helped steady him.

“See something you’re interested in, Malfoy?” Cedric called over Harry’s head.

Harry expected another snide response in return, but only the sound of swirling water met his ears. Harry turned in Cedric’s arms, his mind still reeling from the feeling of Cedric’s mouth, to find Malfoy looking defiant.

“What makes you think I’d be interested?”

“Unless you’re running a fever Malfoy, I’d say you’re more than interested.”

Harry watched in fascination as glowing pinkness stained Malfoy’s cheeks further and Malfoy began to look uncomfortable. Though Harry had never taken the time to consciously appreciate Malfoy’s body, his lips, that impossibly pale skin, it was hard not to now. Malfoy’s tongue flicked out to moisten pale, rosy lips.

Cedric’s voice softened, no longer coloured with jeering hostility, instead laced with implied proposition, “Nothing to be scared of, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s eyes glazed visibly as they swept from Cedric to Harry and back again, then he began to move toward them and Harry’s mouth went very, very dry. Suddenly, Malfoy was right in front of them, his eyes alight with anticipation. “I thought so,” whispered Cedric. Harry felt Cedric’s grip tighten as he leant forward over Harry’s shoulder and Harry watched in amazement as Draco’s lips met Cedric’s. He honestly thought he was going to come. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, he didn’t want to, his head was spinning, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis as Cedric Diggory kissed Draco Malfoy right in front of him, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Harry’s senses were overloading as he watched Draco’s lips part and caught of glimpse of Cedric’s tongue slipping into the obliging opening, glistening in the flickering candle light. Cedric pulled Harry’s body back against his and Harry felt Cedric’s cock throbbing against his arse. Harry swallowed. Hard. Draco moaned and moved closer, his body suddenly pressing into Harry’s too, and oh sweet Merlin, he could feel a second hot, hard heat pressing against him. Harry didn’t know what to do with his hands as the rest of Draco’s lithe form slid wetly against Harry’s skin.

Cedric suddenly pulled back, and Draco clearly had not anticipated such an abrupt ending to their kiss. Draco keened softly, wet lips parted, as his eyes fluttered open and he looked unmistakably put out. There was pause, and Harry felt Cedric incline his head in Harry’s direction. Harry’s insides trembled with anticipation as the recognition of what was about to happen took hold. Draco didn’t hesitate and moved to stand directly in front of Harry and leant in. Panting hard, dragging in a shuddering breath, Harry mirrored Draco’s movement and suddenly his lips were against Draco’s. All soft wetness and holy-shit-fuck his cock throbbed and Harry moaned wantonly as Draco’s lips slowly began to move against his, more tentative than Cedric had been. Harry responded, breathing hard through his nose, and then their tongues met with abandon and began to slide and push against one another and Draco moved in closer as Harry’s hands found Draco’s waist. It was incredible, kissing Draco, Harry drew back momentarily to draw in more air before continuing feverishly.

Harry could feel Cedric’s mouth on his neck, licking and sucking that spot, right there, just behind his ear that made Harry tremble. Then there hands on him, he didn’t know whose, it didn’t matter, and then Harry became acutely aware that both he and Draco were no longer wearing their underwear. Two hands found his erection and Harry didn’t feel the least embarrassment as he was overcome almost instantly by wave after wave of incredible explosions, sending jolting pleasure throughout his over sensitised body, bright lights twinkling behind his eyelids, muscles rapidly expanding and contracting somewhere deep inside him, as his cock pulsed his release into the warm, sweet-scented water.

His head lay against Draco’s shoulder, who seemed equally sated, and Cedric moaned softly into his neck, nuzzling the skin there. ______________________________________________________________________________

One-shot H/D NC-17

2007-09-11T07:09:09Z

Title: Coming Out
Author: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Pateince and self control were never really his virtues.
Status: Complete
Length: One-Shot - 1100 words.
Warnings: Language. Sex.
Category: Humour. Smut.

_____________________________________________________

Harry wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Snape was being particularly vicious toward Gryffindor lately, no doubt a result of Slytherin’s absolute steam-rolling by Gryffindor only the previous weekend. It really didn’t feel like a prudent time to have another raging (and infamous) party in the dungeons.

Harry just may have considered making alternative arrangements. But since Gryffindor’s last Quidditch match, well, he had plans, and damned if he’d miss this opportunity to execute them.

Harry snuck into the again temporarily-charmed room with Ron, Hermione, Dean and Ginny. Planning was always very tight and groups any larger than five seemed a bit careless. So far, incredibly, not a single person had been caught in their late-night wandering and before long, the party was in full, rather debauncherous, swing.

Then Harry saw him. Malfoy. Looking so completely, carelessly, fucking smoking hot. And Harry indulged in the vision before him for quite some time before Malfoy’s attention became his. He was obviously not quite on his game tonight, clearly enjoying the plentiful refreshments.

Malfoy followed some of his classmates onto the already impossibly crowded dance floor of writhing bodies. Harry put his drink down and followed. He’d had enough waiting, though patience and self control never really were his virtues. He slid easily enough between the oblivious bodies before finally reaching his target.

He didn’t even say anything, he didn’t have to. He just shoved some girl out of his way and pressed his body against Malfoy’s, with a look that dared him to protest. He slipped his arms around a slim, silk covered waist, and in the small space the crowd afforded them, began to grind against the boy trapped in his arms, somewhat in time with the ear-assaulting, pulsing, beat.

Malfoy jerked in surprise and had trouble holding Harry’s gaze. Harry lent in and had to raise his voice to be heard, “Enjoying tonight, Malfoy?” Then he drew back to see if he’d even get a response as Malfoy’s brain was no-doubt becoming circulation deprived, and his attention seemed to be directed over Harry’s shoulder, looking more that slightly uncomfortable with the proceedings, but was too intoxicated, or shocked, to do anything about it.

Without warning, Harry pressed is mouth over Malfoy’s, and it was certainly not his best effort, but he wasted no time in taking full advantage of the shocked yell that nobody heard, and plunged his tongue into sweet, forbidden heat. Harry moved a hand up to prevent Malfoy jerking away.

It took Harry quite some time to get Malfoy to respond, and when he did, it was with the very vigor and spark he’d come to expect from his Slytherin rival. Harry relaxed into the now languid snogging and pushed a thigh between Malfoy’s.

How and when they managed to get not only off the dance floor, but onto the welcoming softness of a bed, Harry did not know. But clothes, like words, were unnecessary, and feeling Malfoy beneath him, naked and panting told him more than words ever could. Malfoy still seemed quite tipsy, but Harry didn’t mind. Planting soft kisses while straying hands made Malfoy moan in abandon. Slowly stroking, just teasing like they had all the time in the world. Then Harry sat up slightly to reach into the disarray of clothes surrounding them, before finding and tightly gripping the small bottle of potion-lubricant he’d hoped he would be using tonight.

One finger first, then two, and by the third Malfoy was pleading incoherently and writhing, and Harry obliged. He knew they were both exhausted, and not entirely sober, and was not surprised when only after a few thrusts, they were both moaning in the ecstasy of slippery, wet, release.

Sated silence rested between them for some time, Harry sprawled, legs wide, hands under his head. He lay staring at the canopy above him, the flowing scarlet just visible in the soft glow.

“I think its much easier this way. Better to just get it out there, rather than attempt an awkward conversation. Ron’s a really great bloke and has his good points, but I really don’t think talking about feelings is one of them. Better just ripping it off, like a bandaid. He’ll be fine.”

Harry knew he would. It would be fine.

“What’s a bandaid?” Draco inquired sleepily, curling onto side, facing Harry.

“Never mind,” Harry chuckled softly, then, grinning wickedly at the parading lion above him, sighed dramatically, trying to sound troubled.

“You okay then?” Draco whispered hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his voice calm and serious, “it’s just now everyone knows that - ” he waited, biting his lip to stop himself, just dragging it out until he might burst –

“ - that you’re a slut for my cock.”

Harry barely managed to get the rest of his sentence out as he erupted into raucous laughter and was promptly attacked by a pillow. He put his arms over his head and yelled playfully in alarm.

Draco was squeaking, his voice much higher than usual as he berated his boyfriend, sitting up on his knees to get a better aim at him, “You crass –“ smack, “tactless” oomph, “sodding Gryffindor pleb!” Whack. Harry could barely breath for mirth.

Draco seemed to have tired himself quickly and flopped back onto the bed. “I can see you smirking, you know,” he whined.

Harry was grinning like a lunatic as he ignored Draco and continued his musings, “Might have to get you badge – you still have that one you used to wear in fourth year? We could use that, but instead of ‘Potter Stinks’ I think ‘Potter’s Cock-Slut’ would be far more fitting. We’ll make it in green and silver, so it matches your robes and won’t clash with your eyes. You could pin it next to your prefect badge. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Prick,” Draco sneered as his arm landed with a smack on Harry’s bared chest.

Harry’s head inclined toward him, “Draco Malfoy,” he started in a soft, stern tone, “were you never taught manners? It’s not proper to lay your hands on other people like that.” Draco gulped as Harry leered at him, ear brow raised, smirking from ear to ear. Then Harry rolled back on top of Draco and pressed him bodily into the mattress beneath them, his face hovering just above Draco’s ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell. “In that case,” he paused to lick the salty skin, “I might just have to fuck some into you.” Draco whimpered and squirmed.
______________________________________________________________________________

One-shot H/D (humour) R

2006-03-26T12:15:08Z

Title: Caught
Author: Tangible Magic
Beta: Vanilla Dear
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Harry. Draco. Detention.
Status: Complete
Length: One-Shot - 600 words.
Warnings: Language.
Category: Humour

Author's Notes: HapPY BiRtHdaY VaNiLLA!

______________________________________________________________________________

"This is your fault, Potter."

"Fuck off Malfoy."

"I WOULD IF I COULD - YOU DEFICIENT HALF-WIT - BUT THIS IS CALLED DETENTION FOR A FUCKING REASON!"

Harry looked up at Malfoy. How he got his entire rant out in one breath, Harry wasn't quite sure. Though he obviously thought it necessary to stand and yell, knocking his chair backward and throwing his arms about in the process. His robes were askew and his hair sticking up at odd angles, the white-blonde clashing rather offensively with his flushed pink cheeks. Harry liked it.

"You're such a drama-queen, you know that Malfoy?"

"Am not," he protested, one hand propping itself on his hip.

Snape had ordered them to sit next to each other. The entire dungeon was empty, but they had to sit next to each other whilst completing their assigned work. Just so Harry would end up strangling him, right when Snape walked back in. Snape had confiscated their wands. Harry thought Snape was a sadistic bastard sometimes - even before he paired him with Malfoy to make whatever-the-fuck today's potion was - or was meant to be.

Malfoy pulled his chair upright and flopped back into it, pushing a few stray stands back behind his ear and sighing. Harry didn't bother to stifle his laughter.

"What now, Potter?"

"You're so prissy."

Harry mimicked Malfoy, swishing his imaginary fringe of his face, complete with 'damsel in distress' sigh.

"A-"

"Am not!" Harry interrupted in a squeaky voice before dissolving into laughter.

"Fuck off."

"We're in detention, remember?"

"And whose fault is that?"

"You tipped the entire jar of lace-wings in. Not me."

"How was I to know the entire fucking cauldron would explode?"

"We were told not to tip them from the jar anyway. I didn't make you do that."

"Yes you did!"

"How the fuck could I have possibly m- "

"Not that you idiot! You made me tip the whole lot in."

"Again - how the fu-"

"I TURNED AROUND AND YOU WERE THERE!"

"Malfoy, you really are - "

"You were nearly falling sideways off your chair, right in front of me. What the fuck were you- OH MY GOD!"

"What?!"

"You were checking out my arse weren't you!" Malfoy clapped a hand over his mouth, pointing his perfectly manicured finger at Harry.

"WHAT?" Harry yelled, his voice an octave higher of its accord.

"You perve! You were so!"

"Malfoy - that's absurd. You're right off your nutter, you know that?"

"Explain it then!"

"I was - uh - I was - "

"Oh My God!" Malfoy was smirking.

"Look, there was a good reason, I just don't remember it. Ok? I was pretty much preoccupied with our cauldron exploding!"

"Oh please. I have a gorgeous arse and you know it."

"Wh- Malfoy. Thats - thats -. Not everyone is obsessed with you, or your arse for that matter."

"But you are."

"Fuck off."

Malfoy leaned in slightly, accentuating every word. His voice seemed to flow like honey. Victory written all over his face. "I don't think you want me to."

Harry knew his face was bright red.

"Don't worry Potter. I'll tell everyone. And by the way, your arse is nice too."

"I - What? You - What? But - Malfoy, what are you ... YOUV'E GOT NOTHING TO TELL THEM!."

"Potter, I think I do."

Harry couldn't stop himself, he was reaching for that throat.

Snape's voice rang out through the dungeon, "finished your assignment yet - Potter?"

______________________________________________________________________________

Feedback is always appreciated.

Chapter 12 Comment Poll

2006-03-13T00:45:49Z

Dear Readers,

Letting Go Chapter 12 is at three pages, and we like it very much, but we don't have a great deal of time - seeing as how Real Life is kicking both of our asses.

We are intending Chapter 12 to be a Plot? What Plot? of the very highest order, possibly brain-blushingly kinky, but we don't have any particular kinks in mind. We would be very pleased if you, our Faithful and Wonderful Readers, would comment with any kinks you think would be a) appropriate, b) fun and c) really hot for the Letting Go 'verse versions of Harry and Draco. We don't promise to use every kink you mention, but we do promise to think about them all very conscientiously.

Seriously, conscientiously.

...Conscientious is a synonym for pervy, right?

...Yeah, I thought so.

Thanks, guys.

;)

One-shot H/D (humour) R

2006-02-15T14:04:16Z

Title: Give Him an Inch
Author: Vanilla Dear
Beta: Tangible Magic
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: It's Makeover!Harry. Except not.
Status: Complete
Length: One-Shot - 2100 words.
Warnings: Language. Sexual References.
Category: Humour/Fluff

Author's Notes: "I may possibly have made too much use of my beautiful espresso machine, because, wowness, I can't remember how many espressos I've had today, but we're talking double digits. Letting Go is on three pages, and I went to write some more, and then this bunny came and bit me on my toned Scots-Egyptian arse, so- yeah, I totally wrote it."

______________________________________________________________________________
Harry wasn’t used to this kissing thing. He *really* wasn’t used to this kissing thing with Draco Malfoy. He wouldn’t have felt like this if it was just any boy he was snogging, he thought, but *Draco Malfoy* - well, he wasn’t used to it.

He groaned as Malfoy sucked hard at the side of his neck. God, suction. In the wrong place, but still really nice and oh fuck, Malfoy’s hand was moving down past his waistband, yes, yes, yes-

‘You know, Potter,’ Malfoy said casually, ‘this would be much easier if your clothes weren’t big enough for a Troll.’

‘Hng?’ Harry asked.

‘You need to buy some new clothes. That fit. I’ll come with you; you really can’t be trusted to choose for yourself.’

‘Um,’ said Harry. God, Malfoy was looking at him so seriously, mouth firm, and Malfoy was hardly ever serious, not like this, and it was just clothes, and if Malfoy wanted him to wear different clothes that badly, well- ‘Okay,’ he said.

Malfoy smirked at him and lowered his hand further and Harry almost choked.

Everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room gaped when Harry came back from Hogsmeade wearing green and silver, and it was kind of funny. Kind of annoying, too, and he really didn’t think the colours suited him, but Malfoy liked it.

Hermione looked at him with her eyes wide and then poked Ron in the shoulder. Ron looked up and saw him and wouldn’t say a thing except, ‘pass the potatoes,’ for three days.

They were out on the grass, sun warm and prickly, and Malfoy was doing homework. It was something very complicated to do with Arithmancy and Harry was up on his elbows, watching him and wondering what his Boggart looked like. ‘Potter,’ Malfoy murmured as he turned a page.

‘Yes, Malfoy?’ he asked. He wanted to call him Draco, just because Malfoy had said he couldn’t, and it was a dumb rule Malfoy had, but whatever. Whatever he wanted.

‘Your hair is a horrible mess,’ Malfoy said, and turned another page, silver eyes studying the symbols.

‘You –you think? Oh, well, of course it is,’ Harry said. He remembered Malfoy drunk and fingering his hair, practically *licking* the black strands, and felt a bit confused. He thought he *liked* it-

‘I think I know how to manage it,’ Malfoy said, and turned another page.

Harry was almost certain not even Malfoy could read that fast. ‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Come to my dorm and I’ll work on it after classes, alright,’ he stated.

Harry stared at him. After classes was *orgasm and kissing time*. His jaw dropped, and his throat felt uncomfortable. ‘Sure, Malfoy.’

‘Good,’ Malfoy murmured. The sound of the page turning was whispery and dry, and the sun was warm, and Harry was sure he needed to visit the Infirmary, he was *ill* - except he didn’t need to visit the Infirmary, and he just sat there. Malfoy stroked the back of his knee with his foot, and put a notation down on a scrap of parchment.

After classes, and before dinner, he stared into the mirror. It looked like a *helmet*. A disgusting, black, shiny-beetle helmet. He looked at Malfoy.

‘There,’ said Malfoy, ‘that’s much better, isn’t it?’ He kissed his forehead, his *forehead*, and instructed him to come along for dinner, and turned around, and Harry felt so furious, blindingly furious, and Malfoy glanced back at him, carefully, and God, well, it was just hair, wasn’t it? It didn’t really matter, and if Malfoy wanted him to look like a malformed bug, well, sure. Fine. ‘Pick up your feet,’ Malfoy said, voice smug and slow, and Harry tried not to stomp.

Two days of hair that stuck to his head, unnatural and disgusting, fucking first year Hufflepuffs grinning at him when he passed, no sex at all, and Harry, Harry just – he didn’t even feel like himself anymore. Malfoy stopped him just outside the Potions classroom, and Harry *knew* it was going to be bad, but he allowed himself to be stopped, and looked patiently at his lover. ‘Yes, Malfoy?’

He smiled and it was almost nice, ‘Potter,’ he looked him up and down, eyes hard. ‘You don’t like Professor Snape.’

Harry felt like saying something sarcastic, but he took a deep breath, and said, ‘that’s right.’

‘Well, I don’t mind how you *feel* about him, you can hardly help that,’ *oh, thank you*, Harry thought, and it felt like *fuck you*, but he cared about Malfoy, so much, and whatever he wanted- ‘but I think it would be much better if you could manage to be respectful to him, since he is your superior in every way that matters,’ Malfoy smiled encouragingly and Harry-

Gritted his teeth. Managed a very tight smile. And said, ‘yes, Malfoy.’

When Snape leaned over him in class, shouting, spit actually coming out of his mouth, oh, *thank you*, he didn’t react at all. Snape stumbled to a stop, stared at him harder, and then kept shrieking. And Harry. Nodded respectfully.

He felt like he was going to *vomit*.

In Transfigurations, Malfoy sent him a letter. It was passed from Blaise Zabini to Pansy Parkinson, to Lavender Brown, to Hermione, and when it finally got to Harry, it was a bit grubby and covered in creases from people covertly opening it and then trying to pretend they hadn’t. It slid open easily, thick parchment smooth and heavy in his hand. Malfoy’s handwriting was well-formed and just a little sloppy. In bare black ink, it read, ‘we need to discuss your Quidditch strategies, Potter. After dinner. M.’

His hands were trembling. His hands were actually trembling, and he smoothed his fingers over the parchment, and put it in his pocket and stared straight ahead, ignoring Hermione’s frantic whispers until the end of the lesson.

He grabbed his books, dropping a few which Ron and Hermione crouched to pick up, and strode off toward Gryffindor. When he got there he ripped off his neatly pressed shirt and threw it on the floor. He walked into the bathroom and washed the horrible gel out of his hair and then scrubbed at it until it stuck up at all angles, and stared in the mirror, watching himself reappearing. ‘Right,’ he said, and walked back into the other room.

Ron and Hermione were both sitting on Ron’s bed, eyes wide. ‘Are you breaking up with him, then?’ Ron asked.

Harry gasped out a breath. ‘He wishes,’ he muttered, and dropped his trousers. Hermione gulped and looked away, cheeks red. He rummaged in the trunk at the end of his bed until he uncovered a pair of old, really manky jeans and put them on instead. ‘Ron,’ he said, ‘you still have that jumper your Mum made, the one Neville accidentally buggered up?’

‘Huh?’ said Ron. ‘Yeah, I think.’

‘Can I borrow it?’ Harry asked.

Ron looked at him doubtfully, and then shrugged and looked through his own trunk. He found it at the bottom and held it up. It was misshapen and too large. It had once been maroon, with a W for Weasley in black, but Neville had been trying to transfigure a shoe into a chameleon and it had backfired onto the jumper, turning it a sickly brown-yellow with fuchsia polka dots, the W morphing into purplish-grey. It was really itchy when Harry put it on, but he’d lived with a lot worse. Most of it really recently.

‘Right,’ he said again. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’

He went out through the Common Room, and ignored the murmurs of disbelief that followed him all the way through the portrait hole and down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom of the steps to scuff the toes of his shoes against the harsh stone, and when he straightened up, he felt very, very good. He felt stable, normal, for the first time in months, and oh. It felt so *right*. As he was walking through the corridor Snape stopped him and took ten points for Gryffindor for looking insolent and then later when he was almost in Slytherin territory Filch stepped out of nowhere and Harry hid behind a statue and tried not to snicker and God, he felt so *Harry*, and he wondered if his Invisibility Cloak was pining for him, and he decided to get it out again real soon.

Harry waited until a first year said the password for the Slytherin rooms and followed in after her, and the entire Slytherin Common Room was silent, snakes staring at him, still and careful, but Harry definitely didn’t feel like a meal. He grinned cheerfully and said hello, and a lot of wands were very quickly pointed at him, and all he added was, ‘I’m looking for Malfoy.’

Parkinson pointed toward the dorm rooms, and Harry nodded, and whistled all the way to the door.

He swallowed hard, and he turned the knob, and Malfoy said, not even looking around, ‘Potter, I told you, after dinner. Come back later.’

Harry shut the door behind him, really hard, parchment fluttering in the air with the force of it, and Malfoy turned around. ‘Potter-’ he stopped, pupils widening, cheeks flushing vividly pink. His quill dropped from his fingers and landed on the floor, ink splattering on the carpet.

‘Hello, Malfoy,’ he said, and God, his voice was husky, thick, and Malfoy looked at him, panting. ‘You can’t push me around,’ Harry said. ‘You can’t make me be what I’m not.’ He walked closer, and Malfoy stood still, tight-lipped, like it was hard not to move. ‘You can’t make me do *anything*,’ Harry said, and Malfoy trembled, tongue sliding out to taste the air.

‘Potter-’ he began.

‘My name,’ he instructed, ‘is Harry.’

Malfoy whimpered, and slid to his knees, and names didn’t matter that much to Harry, but okay. Malfoy undid Harry’s jeans with shaking fingers, high colour staining his cheeks, and oh, he looked so damn pretty like that. He drew Harry’s cock out of his boxers, and rested his cheek against it, skin hot and soft and smooth, nostrils flaring, lashes low over blown pupils, and oh, Malfoy hadn’t touched him properly in weeks, hadn’t touched him like this *ever*, he felt like he was going to come right this second, he was ready to burst, all over him, but he didn’t come and Malfoy slid his head to the side and swallowed him down to the root, oh holy fucking God, he had to have been *practising*. He tried not to hyperventilate, but he could hardly breathe, oh, honestly. Malfoy moaned something out, *around his cock*, and took both his hands off Harry like he didn’t care if he choked him with his dick, and oh, holy shit, he didn’t know how he kept from thrusting, because Malfoy was taking his hands away to jerk himself off through *his trousers*, oh, fucking Christ, quick and dirty and ball-tremblingly hot, yes. Yes, oh, *motherfuck*. Malfoy somehow managed to come before Harry did, hands working erratically and filthily over his own lap, head whipping back and forcing Harry even further down his perfect throat, and oh, hell, he totally lost it. Harry came so hard he couldn’t even *see* for long seconds, and then he could, and he looked down, legs shaky, cock so sensitised it hurt. Malfoy slumped back onto his heels, breath coming sharp and fast, mouth swollen and red and hands quivering as he glanced down at the mess at his crotch.

‘Wow,’ whispered Harry. ‘Huh.’ His boyfriend was really, really weird. But hey, scar, Voldemort’s nemesis. He could handle it.

Oh, yes.

Malfoy looked up at him. ‘Oh, Potter, oh, your *hair*.’

Harry smirked. ‘Harry.’

Malfoy whimpered.

Harry smiled wider. ‘When I was coming down here, Snape saw me. And he *took points*.’

Malfoy swallowed thickly. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘Malfoy, take off your pants.’

‘But – but – Harry –’ his cheeks flushed brighter, if anything, ‘it’s time for dinner.’

‘Dinner can wait,’ Harry said.

‘But what will people think?’ he whined, even as he undid a button.

‘They’ll probably think I’m fucking you,’ Harry said, and the next button went flying as Malfoy tore his trousers down to his knees, hopping on one foot as he struggled out of them. ‘Hmm,’ said Harry, wanting to say *oh, please, oh, yes, oh, good*, but not saying it. ‘Good boy,’ he said. ‘Bend over,’ and oh, wow, *Malfoy did*.

______________________________________________________________________________

We Heart Feedback.

Letting Go: Chapter Eleven

2006-01-26T14:39:43Z

Title: Letting Go
Chapter: Eleven - Intangible Distances, Invisible Truths
Authors: Vanilla Dear and Tangible Magic
Beta: Tangible Magic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: Half-Blood Prince
Disclaimer: Belongs to the wondeful JKR. No profit. Not mine. But if they were... *daydreams* Um, sorry? Where was I? Huh?
Summary: Dumbledore decides there must be a serious attempt at unifying Hogwarts' four Houses; chaos ensues.
Status: WIP
Warnings: Language. Sexual situations.
Categories: Humour, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, first time and romance.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Harry was walking fast, very fast, because he did that, sometimes, if there was something really important to do. But somehow no matter how fast he went Hermione and Ron kept ending up in front of him, and sure they were a little taller, but he was walking fast. His breath was coming out in harsh hard puffs, and surely, even if they were a bit taller – and Hermione wasn’t, much – well, surely he should be getting ahead. Neville pulled at his sleeve. ‘Harry. A bit slower, yeah? Ginny’s back there, I want her to be able to catch up.’

Harry turned his head. ‘What? Well, you can walk with her, if you want.’

‘Harry. Um, okay, I’m shit at this cloak-and-dagger stuff, apparently.’ Neville bit his lip and blew out a breath, and Harry didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

‘Neville. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’

‘Um. Uh. Well, I think ‘Mione and Ron want to get in ahead of you, for some reason, and they usually do things for a reason, and I think the reason here is that you seem a bit funny, you know, a bit off-kilter, so they want to get in first to make sure you’re alright. Or something. And also you’re breathing sort of funny.’ He nodded sharply, wincing. ‘So a bit slower, okay?’

‘Okay,’ said Harry, because he didn’t want to look like he was unreasonable, or anything, and, okay. It probably wouldn’t look that good if he ended up running into the party room, all tired and winded. Malfoy would probably take one look at him and think – something uncomplimentary.

It wasn’t long until they were near the party, even walking slow. Harry could only hear the hum of conversation when he was right next to the open door; there must a charm keeping sound muffled from outside so no professors would catch them.

He wanted to peek in, but what if Malfoy saw him peeking? Or someone else did, and told Malfoy about it? That would be horribly embarrassing. So he just walked in, without looking.

People were talking, laughing, shouting occasionally, but it just sounded like a night in the Common Room. He looked up. It was bright. People were all over the huge room, some in brightly coloured robes, some still in their school stuff.

And he suddenly felt more capable. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t any less nervous. Yet he knew. He would get through this. Both of them would. Harry didn’t know what he was going to do, but he was going to do it well.

Malfoy was going to be crawling before the evening was out.

He swallowed, clenched his fists, released them deliberately. Malfoy was not going to be crawling. Unless he wanted to, and then, by all means, he could crawl.

Because it wasn’t Malfoy’s fault.

A lot of things were Malfoy’s fault, though, because Harry’s delicious little Slytherin was trouble made flesh. But this wasn’t Malfoy’s fault. Harry just had to tell him the truth, somehow, maybe torture him a bit, and then they could get with the make-up sex.

Yeah.

Oh, God. No erection, no erection, stop it.

He looked around again, hoping that Malfoy was there, hoping that he wasn’t, and stopped. Started walking again. Tried not to stare.

Malfoy was in a corner, holding court with most of the older Slytherins surrounding him, as well as quite a few Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws. Harry’s lip curled as he saw Zacharias Smith lean forward to whisper something in Malfoy’s ear. Fucking fake cute yellow-haired upturned-nosed Hufflepuff bitch.

Harry searched frantically for something annoying to say so he’d have an excuse to go over there.

Malfoy tilted his head back, sniggering, and Harry swallowed hard. So fucking adorable. So fucking hot. He wanted to put him over his goddamned knee and smack him.

‘Oh, look, there’s Ginny,’ Neville said, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He leaned closer to his ear, and added in a whisper, ‘it’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it? You’re staring at him. It’s Zacharias Smith, isn’t it?’

‘Huh?’ said Ron. ‘Wotcha whispering about?’

‘Zach Smith is Mystery Man, isn’t he?’ Neville whispered a bit louder. ‘I caught Harry staring at him.’

Harry looked at Ron, who was glaring over at Malfoy’s group of simpering sycophants. ‘Zach? You’re calling that shit-hole Zach now?’ Ron said.

Harry thought Ron’s loyal dislike of Zacharias Smith was very endearing.

‘That shit-hole is Harry’s Mystery Man, right? I have to start finding something to like about him. I think calling him Zach makes him sound less like a scum-sucking wart.’

‘That’s nice, Neville,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll keep in mind how accommodating you’re being; it really means a lot to me, you know? But Zacharias Smith isn’t Mystery Man. I was just staring at him because I was watching to see if he’d explode from his head swelling.’

‘Oh,’ said Neville. Harry turned his head to see that Ron and Neville were both glaring at Zacharias Smith, eyes intent.

Harry hid a grin. ‘What are you two doing?’

‘Dunno about Nev,’ said Ron, ‘but I was thinking he might explode quicker if I helped.’

Harry’s mouth quirked. ‘I don’t think it works like that, guys.’ Draco widened his eyes at something one of his goons said, turning his head and staring across the room at Harry.

Harry held his breath.

His white shirt was rumpled, tie half-undone, sleeves rucked up about his forearms, and a single lick of hair was standing almost straight up, shining whitely in the bright candlelight. Malfoy was always, always perfectly dressed. But now – right now he was dishevelled. His silver eyes had darkened to the deep wet grey of the sky in winter, just before the first snow set in. His mouth was prim and pink, and Harry was so glad he hadn’t kissed anyone since Harry had last seen him, because Harry didn’t want to have to hurt anyone if he could help it. And the thought of someone else touching what was his… he didn’t think he would have been able to help it. So it was very good that Draco was faithful. Even if he didn’t have any faith in Harry.

He couldn’t blame him, God, he couldn’t blame him, because three days ago they were enemies and Malfoy couldn’t trust that easily.

Malfoy was looking at…Harry’s shoes? Harry glanced downward. They didn’t look particularly noteworthy to him. He’d shined them up this afternoon, using up a bit of nervous energy, and they didn’t look that bad. Not as bad as they usually did, anyway. They almost looked presentable. He looked back at Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes were slowly travelling over Harry’s pants. Really, really slowly. He resisted the urge to shuffle. He was beginning to get thickly, pulse-poundingly erect, and he wasn’t exactly ashamed of it, because it was Malfoy who was making him like this, his Malfoy, but they were in public, and he didn’t think being hard as a rock was really going to help his case with Malfoy that he wasn’t a slut and hadn’t been fucking with Snape. Malfoy’s eyes lingered for one long moment on Harry’s shirt covered groin, and Harry gritted his teeth, feeling exposed even though across the room Malfoy wouldn’t be able to see anything through the dark cloth. Harry could tell Malfoy was mad at him. It was in the darkness of his eyes, the tightness of his pale pink mouth. It was there in his tense shoulders and slight wrinkling of his small pointed nose. But he still stared at Harry as if he couldn’t not look. His eyes travelled jerkily over Harry’s shirt. Hermione had made it dark blue, and it was pressed and neat, although he hadn’t tucked it in. It looked quite nice on him, he thought, but Malfoy was glaring at it like he wanted to rip it off. Harry made some small movement, trying not to gasp, trying not to run away, trying not to go to him, right here and now, and Malfoy’s eyes flew to Harry’s face.

Malfoy started to lick his lips, and stopped. He stared across the room at Harry very seriously for one moment, and then he looked away.

Harry – Harry needed a drink.

He made his way over to a table that was covered in bottles of wizarding alcohol and gleaming metal cups. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and the Patil sisters were all standing near it. Seamus’ eyes shone. He was standing between Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, and talking to Dean, and although he seemed very busy being congratulated for his efforts in hosting the party, he immediately stopped what he was saying when Harry came up.

‘-really, it wasn’t all that hard- Harry!’

‘Hello,’ said Harry cautiously.

‘What can I get you, Harry? FireWhisky, Butterbeer, Exploding Skrewt, Lemonsnap?’

‘Um,’ said Harry. He hadn’t ever tried half of those, and he didn’t quite trust Seamus. Seamus hadn’t always liked him. He might give Harry something really disgusting on purpose. And Exploding Skrewt sounded rather horrible. ‘How about Lemonsnap?’ he asked.

Seamus picked up a dusty, murky-looking old bottle with a scull-and-crossbones on it. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Straight up or daggered?’

Harry swallowed. ‘Straight up, thanks,’ he said faintly, watching as Seamus twisted the bottle open. It was smoking.

‘God!’ said Hermione, right behind him.

Harry blinked but didn’t turn around. Hermione sounded sort of… a bit mad.

‘What kind of a party is this?’ she demanded.

‘I beg ye pardon?’ said Seamus, looking shocked and aggravated.

‘We’re missing out on a homework night for this, Finnigan?’ she said shrilly.

‘I beg ye pardon?’ he repeated, blushing.

‘This party is dead,’ Hermione said. Harry turned his head to look at her. Her mouth was very determined. ‘Everyone is sitting in their own little corners, drinking and talking quietly, there’s no dancing, and where’s the music?’

‘Music?’ Seamus said weakly. ‘But Hermione, where was I supposed to get a band at such short notice?’

‘Honestly,’ said Hermione. She looked around. ‘Ginny!’

‘Mm?’ Ginny mumbled around a mouthful of Butterbeer. Harry was very grateful when he saw her swallow. She wasn’t as bad as Ron, but most of the Weasley children were a little… messy in the eating and drinking department.

Except for Percy, of course.

‘Do you remember that spell you learnt last year?’

‘What spell?’ she said.

‘You know, it made use of Abernathy’s First Theorem of Universal Instability, and also that fascinating section of Hogwarts: A History that deals with the treatment of innately Muggle artefacts in or around the grounds of Hogwarts and the various unique methods which have, over time-’

‘Oh,’ Ginny interrupted her, looking relieved. ‘You mean the music charm. Yeah, sure, what do you want? Rock, pop, punk, the Weird Sisters?’

Hermione winced. ‘No, not the Weird Sisters, please. I’ve rather gotten sick of them.’

Ginny shrugged, freckles twinkling. ‘Sure.’ She waved her wand and said something very incomprehensible. Loud, pumping music immediately flooded the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw people getting up to dance. Including that worm among wizards, Zacharias Smith. He said something to Malfoy, but Malfoy didn’t get up, and Harry felt his stomach clench with glee. He tried not to grin as he watched Smith ask a girl to dance instead.

He took an incautious sip of his Lemonsnap and stopped short, eyes wide as he felt thousands of tiny bubbles pinch at his tongue. He looked back at Seamus. ‘What is this stuff?’

‘Lemonsnap,’ Seamus said. He was looking at Hermione, brow wrinkled. ‘Don’t you think it was a bit mean, her saying that about my party?’

‘It is nicer having music,’ Dean said quietly.

‘Yeah, but…’

‘Is it poisonous?’ Harry asked, looking at his drink doubtfully. It was still smoking.

‘What, the Lemonsnap? Only a bit.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry. ‘Just a bit poisonous. That’s alright, then.’

He wandered off to one side, still half-watching Malfoy and trying to look like he wasn’t so he was a bit taken aback when someone walked into him. ‘Oh!’ they said.

Harry looked at whoever it was. It was Colin Creevey. ‘Hello, Colin.’

‘Hello, Harry.’ Colin grinned and held up his camera. ‘Can I take a picture? For my scrapbook?’

He winced. ‘Colin…’ he could never say no to a Creevey. ‘Sure, mate.’ He stood there woodenly as Colin took several pictures.

‘That’s a really nice shirt,’ Colin said cheerfully. ‘That deep blue colour looks really good on you.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry managed not to blush, just barely. It appeared that whatever weirdness the Creeveys had been operating under the last few days, Colin, at least, was back to normal. For Colin. Though… ‘Colin, you aren’t a sixth year.’

‘No, Harry, I’m not,’ Colin grinned happily, teeth shiny white and disturbingly shark-like.

‘Isn’t this party just for sixth years?’

‘Seamus gave me a special exemption because I take good pictures. He told me maybe I could start up a paper for Hogwarts students.’

‘Really,’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. Ginny wasn’t a sixth year either and she hadn’t mentioned anything about a ‘special exemption’. He suspected Seamus had only suggested the idea because he wanted Colin to take lots of pictures of the party and make everyone think that Seamus was just as good at parties as Fred and George.

Harry loved the twins. But their parties were always a bit perilous. You never knew when you’d be spitting out tripe.

‘Well-’ he began, and watched as Blaise Zabini ran in the door, slammed it shut, and leant against it, panting. ‘That’s interesting, Colin.’ Zabini slouched against the door for a moment, breaths forcing his chest out, eyes closed and throat working. Then he stood up properly, rolling his shoulders back and lowering one hand to touch his pocket. He walked across the room toward Malfoy, shoulders tense and steps jerky.

‘-on the perceptions of your public and whether that has any affect on your behaviour?’

‘Huh?’ said Harry, realising that Colin had been speaking.

‘I was just saying that I’d like to maybe do a few interviews with you, for the paper,’ Colin’s voice sounded almost… sly… but Harry didn’t pay much attention. Zabini was leaning over Malfoy and trying to give him a very small glass vial without anyone seeing.

Slytherins were so awful at being sneaky.

Except for Snape. Perhaps Slytherins became sneaky with practice. ‘Yeah, sure, Colin,’ Harry said vaguely. He took a sip of his Lemonsnap. It bit at his tongue, which was a bit painful. It didn’t taste very nice either.

‘Oh, wonderful!’ Colin said. ‘I’ll get some questions written down and talk to you when they’re all ready, alright? If you’re not busy then, of course.’

‘Sure,’ Harry murmured. He threw back the rest of his Lemonsnap. It twisted going down, pinching and twitching at the inside of his throat.

It had a sweet aftertaste, like lemon curd and metal.

Malfoy got up, saying something which made everyone around him laugh, giggles and snickers just audible over the loud, booming music.

He watched Malfoy neaten his shirt, slender fingers smoothing over white fabric, and when Harry got tired of that torture he went back over to the drinks table. Seamus and the others were gone; Harry supposed they were off dancing. He reached for the Lemonsnap, and then changed his mind, just standing there and feeling the liquor ease into his belly, warm and thick and mysterious.

‘Call your bitch off,’ Malfoy said behind him.

Harry swallowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’ his voice was hard, maybe a little angry. He wanted to turn around but he didn’t.

‘Your bitch. Fucking Weasley,’ Draco sounded slightly drunk. His voice was hoarse, the sharp edges smoothed over by alcohol or something else.

‘Which Weasley?’ Harry asked. He sounded calm. He sounded like he couldn’t care less. He was terrified.

‘Ron,’ Malfoy was sneering, Harry didn’t need to turn around to know that. ‘He’s been staring at me since he got in. Make him stop it, or he’ll give me freckles and then you’ll be sorry.’

Harry glanced across the room, neck tensing with the movement. Ron was glaring at Malfoy. He wanted to smile, but he didn’t. ‘Freckles aren’t catching, Malfoy,’ he said. He wanted to add that Malfoy would look really hot with freckles, because everything looked hot on Malfoy, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know what would set Malfoy off, make him go away, make him stop looking at Harry. He could feel his eyes on him, sharp and prickling and dear, which was why he didn’t look. If he looked at Malfoy, Malfoy might look away, and Harry would hate that. He tightened his jaw. ‘Ever had Exploding Skrewt?’ he asked, prodding a grey, misshapen bottle with one finger.

‘No,’ said Malfoy. ‘It sounds disgusting. You drink some.’

‘Alright,’ said Harry. He uncorked it and poured some into his cup. It smelled like dirt and damp cat. He wrinkled his nose.

‘How long have you been fucking Snape?’

Harry put down his cup and turned to look at him, because he really couldn’t help it. Couldn’t not look. Not after that question. Accusation. ‘Malfoy,’ he began. Draco looked bruised around the edges, damaged, hurt, and Harry wanted to kill the person who made him look like that, feel like that, but there wasn’t anyone to kill except maybe himself, which was sort of self-defeating, and besides, it wasn’t really Harry’s fault, and anyway, he was selfish enough, smart enough, not to hate himself just because he’d hurt Malfoy. Just because Malfoy had misunderstood, and God, he wanted to- his arms were aching from the tension. ‘Malfoy,’ he began again, ‘you’re a prat. And I haven’t been fucking Snape.’

He sneered, mouth going deep pink, nose tilted up. ‘How long are you going to keep saying that, Potter?’

‘As long as you ask me, Malfoy,’ he said, trying desperately to sound bored. Malfoy was standing so close, just a little apart from him, just a little away, and he smelt like heartbreak.

Harry could reach over and touch him if he was allowed to, but he wasn’t, and the Lemonsnap hadn’t been a good idea, because he’d never drank enough to be able to hold his liquor and now that sickly wizarding drink was whispering in his brain, coaxing, gently nudging at his thoughts, and oh, fucking hell, it would be so easy to touch him, to muss up that white shirt and put marks all over him and make him understand, but he wasn’t supposed to do that, wasn’t allowed to touch. Not without permission, God damn it.

‘You haven’t been fucking Snape,’ Malfoy said, voice quiet. Malfoy was never quiet. ‘Have you been fucking anyone else?’

‘No,’ said Harry. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever let touch me.’ He gave a twisted grin to the air, knowing that Malfoy didn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe him, because it just wasn’t in Malfoy’s nature.

He was a Slytherin. Slytherins didn’t trust, just like that.

‘Right,’ said Malfoy, and his voice was dry. He came a little closer, nearer to the table. He picked up a metal cup and filled it to the brim with FireWhisky. Harry didn’t see the liquid fall into his own cup, but he did know that Malfoy had just spiked his drink with whatever had been in that little vial Zabini had given him. Malfoy took a quick sip of his FireWhisky, head still down, single imperfect slick of white-blonde hair sticking straight up like a feather.

Young Slytherins were really very bad at being sneaky.

Harry picked up his cup because he didn’t want to hang about; he wanted to find out what Malfoy was up to as soon as possible. He lifted the cup up to his lips, half full of Exploding Skrewt and a few drops of something extra, and he only had time to hope that it was Veritaserum and not poison.

Malfoy turned his head to look at him, and saw what he was doing, and opened his mouth, eyes wide, ‘Potter!’

‘What?’ said Harry. He’d already taken one small sip.

‘Um,’ said Malfoy, his eyes searching over Harry’s face. He bit his lip. ‘Nothing, Potter.’

‘Right,’ said Harry, and he drained the goblet of every last drop. It tasted horrible, and he had no idea whether it was the Exploding Skrewt or whatever Draco had added. He set the empty goblet back on the table, very carefully, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Malfoy was still staring at him, and it was hot, and also alarmingly annoying, because he didn’t know if he was going to live or was about to die, and usually, in these kinds of situations, he was too busy fighting his potential murderer to notice if he was being stared at. ‘Malfoy,’ he said. ‘I really think I’ve been a good sport. I didn’t tell you I thought you were a silly arse for thinking I would ever want anyone else, and I didn’t run after you when you ran away, and I didn’t come and shag you as soon as I saw you, and I didn’t punch that fucking slag Zacharias Smith for daring to touch you, and I let you look at me like you wanted to fuck me without doing anything about it, and I didn’t lick you when you came over here, and I didn’t let on I knew you put that stuff Zabini gave you into my drink, and I drank it all up even though it might have been a poison that would make my insides fall out, and God, you’re so incredibly hot, even with your mouth hanging open like that, this afternoon I daydreamed about tying you up and covering you in treacle, partly so you couldn’t run away, but mostly really because I would think being covered in sticky syrup would make you pay attention and realise I’d never want anyone else, you prat, and also because I really like treacle. And I obsess about you all the time, damn it, sex just makes it worse, and by the way, how come no one ever told me I was gay, and I figure that was probably Veritaserum you put in my drink, wasn’t it?’

Malfoy’s throat worked. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought so, because I wouldn’t normally say such things, especially in public because people might hear and I know you don’t want anyone to know about us because they might tell your father and I’m his enemy so he wouldn’t approve very much and I hope that’s why you don’t want anyone to know and not because you’re ashamed of me because that would be really bad. And I don’t know what I’d do about that but I’d think of something because I’m always resourceful when I’m scared and you terrify me more than Voldemort because I can kill him but I have to live with you, need to live with you, which sounds a bit soppy but it’s really just mental because you’re so important to me and I don’t know how to control myself sometimes, I’ve only known I want you for the past few days because I’m obviously blind even with my stupid glasses, and I always used to try to ignore you, but now I know some parts of you and I can’t ever ignore you again. And I don’t want to because life is much more interesting with you in it but I really want to get you somewhere private so I can get you to take your trousers down and get you settled comfortably so I can spank you, damn it, and I know your arse would look so good all pink and feverish, and you would squirm and make those fucking hot whimpers you always give me when I’m touching you.’

‘Potter,’ Draco said hoarsely, eyes wide and shocked. ‘You can’t- you can’t spank me.’

Harry’s mouth moved, and he was vaguely aware that he was pouting. ‘Why not? Why not? It wouldn’t hurt much and it would be really hot, and then I’d have an excuse to lick your arse without it seeming weird, and besides, you deserve it.’

‘Potter,’ Draco repeated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. He glanced around and leaned slightly closer, cheeks delightfully pink, ‘you can’t say such things. You mustn’t.’

‘Hmm,’ said Harry. ‘I think you should have thought about this a little more before you got Zabini to steal Veritaserum from Snape. Your lack of foresight is almost Gryffindor-ish.’

‘Potter!’

‘You look scandalised. I like it. I like it better when you call me Harry, though.’

‘Harry! I do not, Potter! I’ve never- I don’t!’

He smiled slowly and looked his Malfoy up and down. He was practically quivering, blonde hair stark against his flushed skin, eyes dark and stunned and shiny. Almost–rumpled shirt. ‘Mm,’ he murmured, and licked his bottom lip, wanting to lick Malfoy’s… everything. ‘It only happened once when you were half-asleep,’ he assured him, although he didn’t sound very assuring, and Malfoy didn’t look assured – he looked fucking tasty, though. Panicky and dazed and Harry bet the head of his cock was damp already. He wanted to get down on his knees and lick it. But he was supposed to be talking, and he could hardly say that, Malfoy would probably faint. He thought it was kind of cool how he could pick what he was going to say, as long as it was the truth. Where was he- Ah. Malfoy calling him Harry. ‘It was nice,’ he told him. ‘Scary, though. I nearly castrated myself. You look so panicked right now. Like you’re going to faint or scream. I’d like to make you scream,’ he added, gently, persuasively, and took a step closer.

Malfoy looked around again, cheeks pink, mouth damp cherry. ‘Potter, you mustn’t say such things, people will hear, you arse, just stop it.’

‘I don’t think you get the point of Veritaserum, do you, my beautiful prat? It makes you tell the truth. I can’t help it, Malfoy, and I honestly don’t want to. I like it. I like watching you blush, all pink and sweet like a-’

‘Potter!’

‘Like a- like I don’t know what. Like you.’

‘Potter,’ Malfoy said again, and blushed.

‘I’m glad you gave me Veritaserum, because you wouldn’t believe me otherwise, would you? I’ve never shagged Snape, never really wanted to, and now you can actually believe it, because you know I can’t lie right now. I’m a little mad, because I can’t help being a little mad, it’s practically my favourite emotion. And when I’m mad I like to think about doing really dirty things to you, because that’s always nice-’

‘Potter!’ he inserted quickly. ‘Never really wanted to - never really wanted to shag Snape!?’

‘Yes,’ Harry agreed.

‘Explain yourself!’

‘Well, it may have crossed my mind once or twice or possibly three times, but you needn’t worry about it. I’ve thought about shagging lots of people.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Malfoy demanded, eyes darkening.

‘Girls, even, and Neville, and Ron, and practically every boy I’ve ever seen. I don’t actually want to shag anyone else, I just thought about it. Like Ron, I wondered why I wasn’t attracted to him because he’s nice and friendly and you’re not. Except when you are, and do you know how confusing that is?’

‘You thought about having sex with other people,’ Malfoy said, very slowly, mouth twisted.

‘Yes,’ Harry agreed happily.

‘You…’ Malfoy stared at him, ‘thought…’ he tightened his mouth, white bleeding into the pink for one slow moment, ‘about… touching other people. Letting them touch you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Run, Potter.’

‘What,’ said Harry. He added immediately, ‘I heard you, I just don’t believe you mean it. Well, I do, but I’m a Gryffindor, Malfoy, I don’t run away, I run to.’

‘Then run to somewhere private, Potter,’ Malfoy said very deliberately, ‘now.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, ‘oh, are we going to have sex now? Alright. Or are you going to punch me? You look like you want to punch me or hex me or something.’ He turned around and started walking backwards. ‘We’re not going to have arse-sex now, are we?’

‘Potter?’ Malfoy looked hot. And confused. And a bit disgusted. And a lot hot.

‘Because I sort of quite like the idea of arse-fucking, really, secretly, but it’s very scary, and Ron said penetration is the only real sex, but I think he’s barmy, and we can wait for arse-sex, can’t we?’

‘Mm,’ agreed Malfoy, walking after him, Harry looking back every few seconds to make sure he didn’t walk into anyone. ‘And as to this buggery which may take place sometime in the future, who did you have in mind for the various positions?’

‘You and me!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I thought you understood that part!’

‘No, I mean,’ Malfoy looked very embarrassed. ‘Who would be where?’

Harry turned away to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into anyone, because he didn’t trust Malfoy to tell him. Then he opened the door and stumbled through it. ‘Who would be- Oh! You mean whose cock is going to go in whose arse!’

‘Well, obviously,’ said Malfoy.

‘I thought you would insist on having your cock in my arse, honestly,’ said Harry. ‘You’re so sure that you’re the man, which is just daft, because we are both men, or boys really technically, Malfoy, I mean, you do know that.’

Malfoy waved that aside. ‘I just wondered what you really think. Besides, I don’t know which I’d like better.’

‘Well, we can try it out when we’re ready and see, right?’

‘Oh,’ said Malfoy, eyes shining. ‘Alright.’

There was another door behind him, and Harry reached backwards for the knob, scrabbled for it, found it, and turned it with a rough twist. Malfoy didn’t wait for it to open properly, just pushed Harry through and scrambled in after him. There was no room, no space between them, and Harry liked it. A lot. ‘Potter,’ Malfoy muttered breathlessly, ‘you do know, with Veritaserum, you don’t actually have to tell me anything unless you’re answering a direct question. You do know that, don’t you? You could just keep your mouth shut if I didn’t ask anything.’

‘I don’t like keeping my mouth shut,’ Harry told him, licking wetly at his neck. ‘So fucking hot. Especially when talking makes you look like we’re already having sex when you’ve still got your clothes on. All sweaty, and pink-’

‘You make me sound like a pig,’ Malfoy gasped.

Harry snickered. ‘My pig. My prize pig.’ He clutched him close. ‘I like the way your sweat tastes.’

‘Malfoys don’t sweat,’ Malfoy informed him. ‘And- oh fuck, keep doing that.’

‘Holding you, or licking you, or-’

‘Well, I was really thinking about your rubbing against my cock, Potter,’ he breathed in sharply, ‘but by all means, keep- con- continue doing those other things too.’

‘Okay,’ said Harry, ‘I like watching you come. I don’t want anyone else to see you come. Ever, please.’

‘Alright,’ said Malfoy weakly. Harry pushed him back against the door, closing it, so they’d have something to keep them from falling down. He could feel Malfoy’s body all up and down his length, bones and muscles prodding at his, throbbing, just a bit, warm clean scent of boy-sweat-mine.

‘Sometimes,’ said Harry, ‘you make me so mad. No one else can make me as mad as you can,’ he rubbed, slowly, deliciously, up and down against him, and Malfoy was just as hard as he was.

‘It’s really kind of hot,’ he added.

‘Potter,’ Malfoy said, ‘you are clearly incredibly mental. Also, shut up.’ He whimpered slightly, and pressed harder against Harry, hips canting upward.

‘I don’t want to shut up,’ Harry said. ‘But if you really want me to I can.’

‘I-’ Malfoy swallowed hard. ‘Your shirt looks less manky than normal. Actually, all of your clothes do. Granger dress you?’

‘Yes,’ Harry said.

He looked him over, eyes fierce and hot. ‘She has passable tastes, the Weasley oaf notwithstanding.’

‘I’ll tell her you said so.’

‘Yes. Do.’ Malfoy leaned back as Harry licked his ear, and Malfoy shuddered, and pushed at Harry’s chest.

‘Oh, crap,’ said Harry. ‘You’re not going to be jealous of ‘Mione now, are you? Because really, I love her to pieces but I don’t want her in the least, and it’s really cute and sexy when you’re jealous, but it’s also unnecessary and right now I really want to get to the sex.’ Malfoy pushed at his chest again, and Harry moved backward. ‘Damn it,’ he muttered.

Malfoy pushed him again.

‘I’m moving as fast as I can!’ Harry told him.

‘Move. Faster,’ Malfoy instructed.

‘What the hell do you need so much room for?’

‘This,’ Malfoy said, and pounced.

Harry slammed backwards onto the ground, a little surprised to find Malfoy’s hands behind his head to keep him from cracking it. ‘That’s very thoughtful,’ he told him.

‘You are amazingly fucking soppy, Potter,’ Malfoy said, and laughed.

‘I am not,’ Harry said, and realised the Veritaserum must be wearing off.

‘It’s alright,’ Malfoy said slowly, hips and cock and ribs digging into his. ‘I quite like it.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry. He felt himself blushing.

He was staring up into Malfoy’s eyes and pretending to be paying no attention to the long slow jerks of Malfoy’s hips against his, cocks rubbing together lusciously and a bit painfully, so he had almost no awareness to spare for the muffled voices coming from somewhere outside.

‘-just a minute, Lav, I’ll just make sure there’s nobody in here before I let you in, wouldn’t want to-’ the door opened, and Harry certainly paid attention to that, because Malfoy immediately stopped mid-thrust.

‘Holy sweet Jesus,’ Seamus said, face white, staring from Malfoy to Harry and back again. He seemed particularly fascinated with the shape of Malfoy’s arse, and Harry glared as best as he could from his position on the floor. ‘Uh-’

‘What is it, Seamus,’ Lavender demanded, trying to look around Seamus’ shoulder.

Seamus blinked. ‘Um. Nothin’. Just, uh, some people doing what we were gonna do. Maybe we better go somewhere else.’ He stepped backwards, and shut the door firmly.

Malfoy collapsed onto Harry, shaking.

‘Malfoy?’ Harry said. ‘Malfoy, it’s alright, really, he won’t tell anyone.’

‘Tell anyone?’ Malfoy gasped, shuddered, and snickered out a laugh. ‘I’m just glad I was on top.’

Harry thumped him, because he really deserved it. But maybe the spanking could wait until later.
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