Finished fic posted. 'Obsession'.
I didn't get around to working on HEA, but I did finish a fic I've been fiddling with for a while. It's pretty experimental; it's written in present tense and it has zero dialogue. Basically, it's a really long PWP. I don't know whether I like it or not, but I'm rarely satisfied with my own stuff so that's nothing new.
Don't click on the link if you're under 17 or RELATED TO ME. I mean it.
Title: An Obscene Obsession (subtitled: An Exercise in Writing Oral Sex)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: H/D as always
Summary: Draco is in denial and has an oral fixation.
A/N's and warnings: There are mentions of het sex. There's quite a bit of smut and probably some bad language too. Also, this Draco is a little more fanon than I'm used to writing, though he's not a complete ice prince. The characters belong to JKR, yadda yadda, but Draco's Snitch (you'll know what I'm talking about when you read that part, I don't want to spoil it) is mine, mine, mine and woe betide any poor, misguided soul who decides to steal it.
The poem below is by ee cummings, because hey. If I'm gonna write porn I'm gonna go all out.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
-- ee cummings
Draco Malfoy has a Problem.
It’s an incredibly frustrating and confusing problem. So much so, that it deserves to be capitalized. That’s how he thinks of it in his head, when he can bear to think of it at all; his Problem.
It is not his fault, of course. In Draco’s world things are never his fault and the Mudblood only beats him in Transfiguration because McGonagall favors her and Harry Potter only catches the snitch because he cheats. Draco’s Problem is Harry Potter’s fault, because in Draco’s world most things are.
Draco has heard the first step is admitting you have a problem and usually he would never admit to having a fault much less one as bizarre and horrible as this one, but even he can see that it’s gone too far.
Draco Malfoy has an obsession with Harry Potter’s cock.
And he wants it to stop.
Draco is heterosexual. His Problem is merely a fluke, some weird obsession that any other normal young man could have. But it’s not any other young man, it’s him, and that’s unacceptable. It took him four months to realize his fascination was a little odd another three to admit something was wrong. But this obsession will eventually go away. He will make sure of it.
He doesn’t know why he’s obsessed with that particular body part or indeed why he’s obsessed with any part of Potter at all. But if he had a choice which part it could be, it certainly wouldn’t be the one he seems to currently be enamored with. It makes him angry that out of all the body parts to choose from, his subconscious chose the most inconvenient one of all.
He can appreciate, in a purely aesthetic way, the dip of Potter’s lower back and the line of his long limbs. The breadth of his shoulders, the flare of his boyish hips, and the curve of his tight ass. The bright green of his eyes and the way his left cheek dimples when he smiles. There’s nothing wrong with merely appreciating something like that. Everyone else does. It’s nothing unusual at all.
Draco would prefer to be obsessed with any of these things, anything but Potter’s cock, but there it is. He can’t help himself from stealing sidelong glances at it from under the half-moon fan of his silver lashes when he’s standing near Potter at the urinals. His eyes are drawn to the bulge in Potter’s Quidditch uniform during matches when he should be looking for the snitch and the drape of his robes in Potions. And if Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch players showered together Draco would probably stare there too.
No one seems to have noticed his preoccupation with Potter’s crotch, but he suspects it is only a matter of time.
He often sits in History of Magic, pondering his obsession with Potter’s cock while Binns’ ghostly voice drones on in the background.
Cock is such a vulgar word, but it’s the one he usually uses when he thinks about it. Prick, penis, pecker, dick - they all sound sort of silly. Cock on the other hand, well, that’s silly too, but not quite so much. Better than calling it a sausage or a wand at any rate.
Draco doesn’t understand his inexplicable and completely inappropriate obsession. It’s not like Potter’s package is huge. It’s a little above average size and he’s uncut, like most wizards, but it’s nothing special.
Except for the fact Draco Malfoy wants to taste it for some reason.
He imagines it sometimes, the way it would taste. How it would feel heavy on his tongue or stretch his lips just so around the shaft. How Potter’s balls would feel in his hands while he nuzzled at his cock, inhaling the musky male scent of him. He wonders, absently, what Potter’s precome would feel like dribbling on his tongue and what the slide of wet skin would feel like if he rubbed the tip of it over his cheek. When he thinks about it his breath shortens, his hands tremble, his cheeks flush and his mouth gets so dry he has to lick his lips.
He spends a lot time thinking about it.
Draco also spends a lot of private time in the shower and his room and his roommates start teasing him about his habit of jacking off for hours at a time. Soon enough the whole school knows he has an insatiable libido and if Draco was the sort to be embarrassed by rumors he would blush as the girls whisper behind their hands or giggle whenever he looks their way.
He starts dating Pansy Parkinson, because despite his strange Problem he does like girls and she seems intrigued by the rumors.
He kisses her during their free period every afternoon for exactly half an hour before Quidditch Practice and fits his hand around the curve of her breast when she lets him. Draco is oddly disappointed the one time she lets him slide his hand up her skirt and all he finds is damp cotton panties and strangely flat genitalia.
Two weeks into their relationship, Pansy goes down on him after curfew in a dusty little classroom off the Potions hallway that most students of Slytherin House frequent for illicit purposes. Her mouth is warm and wet around him, but she doesn’t take him in very far and her tongue is clumsy against his skin. He comes anyway, but thinks afterwards that he could have done a better job of it.
Three days after that she demands that he go down on her and he sneers at her daring, but finally decides there’s no reason for him not to. Flesh is flesh after all, and he has always been good at using his mouth even if it is only to fling insults.
Pansy tastes stale on his tongue and the whole ordeal is boring and slightly revolting to him. She flops like a landed fish under his mouth and moans loudly as he pumps his fingers in and out of her wet quim. His tongue lashes at her clit and then she seizes up and yanks on his hair, screaming like a banshee. Draco sits back as she gasps for breath, calmly wiping his face off with his sleeve.
When he looks up he sees Harry Potter watching him with wide-eyed shock.
Slytherin loses forty points and Draco is proclaimed a sex god by the whole school.
Harry Potter, as Head Boy, is not really allowed to spread gossip, but somehow by Wednesday everyone knows exactly what went on in that little dusty room. Pansy is called a slut at breakfast by a handful of Gryffindors and she hits Draco on the shoulder when he doesn’t bother to stick up for her. They break up on Friday, leaving Draco single just in time for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.
That weekend he visits Honeydukes and buys himself some sugar quills and a whole bag of blood-flavored lollipops. They taste sickly-sweet, but they soothe the itch of his obsession a little. Draco makes his rounds through Hogsmeade, gathering the necessary school supplies and any random little objects that strike his fancy, which is the way he usually shops. As he walks, he twirls his tongue around the lollipop easily, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks away quite happily.
He stops by the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer and immediately sees Harry Potter getting groped by Lavender Brown, her bright pink nails tracing over the seam of Potter’s denim trousers and the sizable erection straining underneath. It takes him several tries to finally yank his eyes away and when he does he notices Potter is staring at the lollipop in his mouth.
Draco licks at the lollipop in long, sensual swipes, moving his tongue in complex patterns over the glistening candy. Potter watches Draco’s red-stained mouth and his darting pink tongue as Lavender Brown gives him a hand job. The Boy Who Lived closes his eyes tightly as his hips buck upwards underneath the table and he comes right there in front of everyone, although no one seems to actually notice.
Draco is starting to suspect he’s not the only one with a Problem.
Monday, he brings a few sugar quills to Potions class to test his theory. He goes through five of them, languidly enjoying each one, and by the time class is over Potter is squirming in his chair so vigorously even Snape notices and the professor snidely admonishes him to use the W.C. before class in the future. The Slytherins laugh meanly and even a few Gryffindors chuckle at his expense. Potter blushes brightly and practically flees the classroom, leaving the Mudblood and the Weasel to exchange a puzzled glance before following him out into the hallway.
Draco smirks to himself and decides to get a tongue ring.
He sneaks out of the castle the next night when he is supposed to be doing his prefect patrol and floos to the Leaky Cauldron from the Hog’s Head. It only takes five minutes to locate Tonks’ Magical Tattoo and Piercing Parlor.
The girl inside has bright green hair and she raises a pierced eyebrow when Draco tells her what he wants. She calls him cute and offers to do his nipples for free and Draco, after a moment of thought, agrees.
Draco shells out three galleons and a few sickles for the piercing. Each one hurts with a burst of pain that makes his eyes water and afterwards she heals him with a spell or three. He has a little hoop in each nipple and his tongue ring, a tiny miniature snitch, vibrates with a murmured word. Draco lets it clack against his teeth rhythmically for a moment before turning it off again.
He shows his piercing off the next morning at the Slytherin table and knows that before first class of the day Potter will hear about it from his gossiping classmates in great detail.
Draco takes to playing with his tongue ring in class and every time he does the Boy Who Lived stares fixedly at him. His cheeks color when Draco makes it vibrate and even Weasley has twigged to Potter’s habit of looking intently in Draco’s direction. Draco still thinks about sucking Potter’s cock, but now he also thinks about how it would feel resting between the cheeks of his ass and if it would hurt to have it inside him.
The idea scares him and he decides he needs to fix his Problem before it gets worse.
At dinner that night he inspects all the girls at the Slytherin table and after considering it carefully he settles on Queenie Greengrass who is renowned for her spectacular blowjobs. The Slytherin Quidditch team calls her Queenie Greenknees amongst themselves, but that doesn’t stop her from getting grass stains on the knees of her robes and practicing fellatio on boys whenever the mood strikes her. Draco catches her eye over the jug of pumpkin juice and winks at her, flashing his tongue ring in her direction. By eight o’clock that night she’s agreed to be his girlfriend and Pansy is almost dying with jealousy.
He tries to forget how he wants to feel Potter’s cock inside him, both his arse and his mouth, and that Potter has been staring at him.
He flirts with Queenie in the Slytherin common room and she sits on his lap, squirming so that his erection presses against her bottom. Queenie is much more straightforward than Pansy and Draco finds her frankness refreshing, if a little startling. She goes to bed around nine, smirking knowingly at him, and he makes his way to his private room shortly afterwards. Draco wanks off, his hand clasped tightly around his aching cock, and right before comes he thinks of Potter.
Draco doesn’t sleep very well that night.
He ignores Potter gaze the next day in Care of Magical Creatures and doesn’t play with his tongue ring at all in front of the other boy.
Draco invites Queenie to visit his room during their free period afterwards and she agrees with a saucy smile. He is proud of having his own room and delights in showing it off. Queenie admires it and then pointedly compliments the bed. They snog heatedly for a while and end up skipping History of Magic while Queenie leisurely sucks his cock. Draco finds himself taking notes on her technique until finally he can’t think coherently at all.
She asks for reciprocation and Draco complies. He discovers that he still finds going down on a girl distasteful, though it’s more interesting now that he can play with his tongue ring while doing it. He makes her come twice easily, his tiny tongue-snitch rapidly fluttering its wings.
When he asks if he can fuck her she agrees dazedly, fumbling for her wand to cast a contraceptive spell. Queenie is not a virgin and he doesn’t let her know he is one, carefully thrusting inside her and biting his lip at how good it feels. It takes him a while to pick up a decent rhythm and she kneads her own breasts as he fucks her. His hands press flat against the bed while he moves sinuously above her and she grasps his bony hips with her thighs. They both come again and Draco lets her use his bathroom before she leaves.
The rank smell of sex pervades his rumpled bed sheets and, mildly disgusted, Draco sleeps on his couch instead.
It only takes until lunchtime the next day for everyone to know that he and Queenie are having sex and that Draco Malfoy is the best lay she ever had.
He is forced to suffer through a talk with Snape, who has also heard the rumors, about safe sex. After Snape is through with his lecture, Draco assures his Head of House that he is neither stupid, nor incautious and they both fervently agree never to bring the subject up again.
Draco gets bored of Queenie quickly, but since they end up having sex every night he decides against breaking up with her. The Quidditch team teases him at practice, but it’s a friendly sort of teasing and Draco finds himself the center of attention in the locker room when he describes his sex life in great detail. Over the course of the week, they fuck in a variety of positions and when she rims him he comes so hard he blacks out. He makes her swear to keep the less decent details of their sex life private and he ends up begging hoarsely when she finger-fucks him into oblivion.
She tells her friends at breakfast he is incredibly kinky, but, as promised, doesn’t go into details.
He ties her up while they fuck and she returns the favor. Queenie suggests they have anal sex, which they do, and Draco gets himself off by rubbing his cock between her breasts. He prefers to take her from behind, watching the play of her back muscles as she rocks into him and he still takes mental notes on her technique when she blows him. They experiment together, because without the novelty Draco doesn’t enjoy their romps very much. Pretty soon, Queenie is as bored of him as he is of her and they end up screwing less and less until they finally decide to mutually call it quits.
Pansy rejoices and tales of her energetic victory dance and loud whooping shouts of triumph are spread far and wide.
Draco hasn’t been keeping track of the days and he is surprised to discover Christmas break isn’t very far off. He spends Christmas at the Manor with his mother while his fugitive father stays at the Dark Lord’s right hand in some secret location. Neither Narcissa nor Draco bother much with him now that the Malfoy estate is indisputably theirs. Draco receives a lot of Christmas presents, to his utmost satisfaction.
Queenie Greengrass quite unexpectedly gives him a vibrator and a bottle of lubrication.
He ends up with a bag of sugar quills too. There is no tag to let him know who they are from, but Draco has his suspicions.
Naricissa spends the holiday dropping vague comments about acceptance and love into their conversations, which makes Draco stare at her with blank incomprehension. He is eager to leave the Manor when the time comes, if only to get away from his mother’s well-meaning and confusing lectures.
Most mornings he wakes up with dried come flaking off his stomach and the memories of strange, disturbingly Potter-themed dreams floating through his head.
When he goes back to school, Pansy fawns over him shamelessly. He ignores her and his Problem returns with a vengeance and Draco finds himself watching Potter in the halls and thinking about the way his hair looks like a wren’s nest and how his shoulders have broadened over the holiday vacation.
Potter watches him back sometimes, his green eyes dark with some unfathomable emotion.
Draco’s grades fall a little, his History of Magic test scores most of all because he often drifts off into daydreams during Binns’ class. School is boring and tedious, which only gives him more time to think about how pleasing the shape of Potter’s cock is and what it would feel like in his mouth. He starts chewing on his quills in class and doodling to keep his mind occupied when he’s bored. It doesn’t help much, but there are few distractions at Hogwarts. When the seventh year Slytherins decide to sneak out and go clubbing in Muggle London that weekend he takes to the idea with enthusiasm.
They all dress like Muggles in indecently tight denim trousers and shirts made of synthetic fabric that hug the torso. Draco wears all black and digs out his old dragonhide jacket and boots, leaving his hair free of gel so that it curls in the humid air of the club. The music makes his bones vibrate it’s so loud, but Draco is grateful it drowns out the sound of Pansy’s voice.
He finds himself in a sea of sweaty flesh, grinding against anyone who sidles up to him. As he dances, he loses himself in the thumping rhythm of the strange Muggle music blasting through the room. Lights flash in random patterns around him, making him glow. He takes a few short refreshment breaks and quickly finds himself drunk, which only makes the play of lights across his closed eyelids that much more interesting.
When he comes to the next morning he is fully dressed and lying face down on his bed with the taste of dead troll in his mouth and little memory of what happened the night before. His hangover is brutal, but he feels much better after taking a shower and stealing a potion from Snape’s stores to ease his headache.
When he finally remembers that last night he went down on a dark haired Muggle boy with striking blue eyes in the men’s room, he spends the rest of the morning in queasy misery kneeling on already sore knees in front of the toilet.
After that he studiously avoids Potter.
It takes too much effort to have a girlfriend, so Draco strings Pansy along and flirts with her whenever the mood strikes him which isn’t very often. They only kiss once and afterwards Draco feels dirty so he doesn’t repeat the experience.
Unexpectedly, Potter outs himself as bisexual and the school runs rampant with rumors and conjecture. The Daily Prophet publishes an article on it, which Draco sneers at during breakfast and his appetite flees so quickly he can’t push his plate away fast enough. The whole thing makes his head pound in a dizzying staccato beat and he decides to go to the Infirmary for a potion. Madam Pomfrey cures his headache and tells him it is from stress and that he needs to relax, which is no help at all.
A few days later, when Draco is in the library, Pansy approaches him to tell him a choice bit of gossip. The Boy Who Lived is dating a Hufflepuff named Zacharias Smith. At dinner that night, as Draco eats he watches the Hufflepuff table from underneath his lashes and finds himself choking on his pumpkin juice when he realizes Smith looks and acts more than a little like him.
After dinner Draco locks himself away in his room. He uses the vibrator Queenie gave him for Christmas and when he fucks himself with it the muscles in his thighs tremble so hard he gets a cramp. He comes a record-breaking amount of times that night and each time he does, it is Potter’s name that falls from his lips. Draco winds up falling asleep with the vibrator still inside him and his damp sheets twisted messily around his legs, but he sleeps deeply and well.
It is the best sleep he has had in months.
Potter and the Hufflepuff date for two weeks and three days until Smith breaks up with him. Draco is relieved he will no longer have to see them holding hands or kissing in the hallway between classes. Rumors fly, but Potter refuses to discuss whatever happened between them and whenever someone asks him about it his gaze drifts towards Draco.
Weasley has taken to shooting Draco wary, resentful looks while Granger watches him with sharp, probing eyes in a way that makes him oddly nervous. Potter still stares, but Draco pointedly ignores him.
He compounds his Problem by practicing fellatio on the vibrator while he wanks off, learning how to smoothly deep throat without gagging. It makes his dreams more vivid and his craving worse so he doesn’t do it often.
Draco considers dating Pansy again, but decides against it when he notices that she has recently cut her hair in a style that only strengthens her resemblance to a pug. The other Slytherin girls are either too ugly or too prissy for his tastes and he refuses to date a girl from another house. He decides to stop dating, for the moment at least.
He takes to practicing Quidditch at all hours of the day and night to distract himself from his Problem. It works to a certain extent. His game improves drastically and he is usually too tired to dream when he finally collapses in bed.
His body often aches from so much exercise, but eventually he becomes so accustomed to constant flying that the aches eventually fade away altogether. Draco is proud of the way his arms and legs have strengthened and how flat his ridged stomach has become. Even his ass has firmed, still pleasingly curved, but muscular, and girls watch him saunter through the halls longingly, whispering about how attractive he has become.
Slytherin House decides to host a party to spice things up and this time even the Hufflepuffs are invited. Morale is suddenly at all time high as the students have something to look forward to after slogging so long through dreary school work. Snape predictably turns a blind eye as they procure alcohol from Hogsmeade and decorate the dungeons for the event. Zabini, Muggleborn that he is, manages to get his hands on some interesting Muggle designer drugs. Draco slips out to Knockturn Alley for pixie dust, certain mushrooms, and various mind-altering potions. Pansy and her girls set up a spell so that music can be heard in every room and soon enough the latest Weird Sisters’ songs echo loudly throughout the dungeons.
Draco wears loose, black silk pants and a tight, short-sleeved white shirt made of silk so thin it is practically transparent. The pants hang low on his hips, revealing his jutting hipbones and flat stomach. Over that he wears a light summer robe that is, of course, black. He doesn’t bother with shoes or socks, though he does cast a warming charm on himself to keep his feet from getting cold. Pansy almost swoons when she sees him and promptly attaches herself to his side like a limpet.
Students soon arrive and Draco has two shots of Firewhiskey before deciding to avoid imbibing any more alcohol. He doesn’t want to wind up on his knees in front of a boy like the last time he was intoxicated. The buzz of the Firewhiskey fades into a pleasant warmth and Draco laughs and flirts, entertaining the crowd with impressions and skits. His humorous depiction of Dumbledore’s desperate addiction to lemon drops is the most popular and it causes the crowd to roar with laughter.
After a few hours of dancing the party is at it’s peak and, with a little encouragement from his friends, Draco takes a thimbleful of pixie dust, which is a strong aphrodisiac as well as a mild hallucinogen. Almost everyone has taken something, though most Hufflepuffs abstain.
Colors suddenly appear more vibrant and the music deepens to something complex and enthralling. Draco escapes from Pansy’s clutches in order to better enjoy the experience and sprawls in a large leather armchair near the fire, his eyelids at half mast as he stares into the dancing, flickering flames. They twist into convoluted patterns, shifting colors so rapidly he can barely keep track of them. His cock aches against the silk of his pants and he savors the pounding of his pulse in his nether regions, slouching down and letting his head rest against the arm of the chair. Too hot for comfort, he struggles out of his robe and tosses it to the floor.
The fire quickly loses his interest and he observes the blur of color and motion that is the makeshift dance floor instead. It fascinates him for a while, until something else draws his attention. Not too far away from him, a circle of sitting students are playing some strange game, their smiles wide and giddy.
Queenie’s voice is loud, her low cut robes revealing a shocking amount of cleavage, and she seems to be speaking to Harry Potter. Potter is blushing and shaking his head, sending his tousled hair in all directions. Someone pushes Potter to his feet and away from the circle and the Gryffindor reluctantly makes his way over to Draco who watches with dilated pupils as he approaches.
When Potter speaks his words are distant and distorted, as if he is talking through water and Draco can’t understand a word of it. He merely blinks at Potter slowly in drugged manner, unusually quiescent for once. Exasperated at the lack of response, the Gryffindor throws up his hands and starts to stalk away, but Queenie gestures for him to go back imperiously. When he does, he nervously leans down to capture Draco’s mouth with his own and the Slytherin finds himself accepting the kiss submissively, lifting his face to Potter’s to get a better angle. Their tongues duel, Draco’s tiny snitch-piercing sliding along the roof of Potter’s mouth and clacking against the other boy’s teeth several times as they kiss.
Potter squeezes into the armchair with him to get closer and Draco, his sense of propriety having long since succumbed to the effects of pixie dust, merely wiggles back to make room for him.
The hoots and hollers of the other students make no sense so Draco ignores them, following Potter’s mouth when he pulls back to gasp for breath. He teaches the other boy by example how to breathe through his nose as they kiss, pressing his body closely to Potter’s and winding his arms around the Gryffindor’s neck as they writhe together.
Draco, flushing high on his cheeks from passion, slides out of the chair onto his knees. He nips his way down Potter’s clothed chest until he reaches his stomach where he can pull up the Gryffindor’s red cotton shirt. Draco places wet, open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach bare skin and follows the fine little line of hair from Potter’s navel to the top of his jeans. Potter stares at him, his green eyes wide with surprise and dark with lust even as he bites his lip uncertainly. Draco struggles with the other boy’s buttons and, with Potter’s help, manages to pry open the fly to get at Potter’s gorgeous cock.
Draco is aware that they still have an audience, but doesn’t quite understand that he should care.
Potter’s cock fits perfectly in his mouth and the sharp, bittersweet taste of Potter’s delicious pre-come makes Draco’s mouth water eagerly. Draco bobs his head as he deep throats, his eyes closing in ecstasy at finally being right where he wants which is between Harry Potter’s thighs. His hands slide into the other boy’s trousers to cup his balls and roll them gently, his tongue flicking out on every stroke to tease the head of Potter’s cock.
He pulls back to mutter the word that makes his tongue ring vibrate and Potter practically convulses when Draco starts sucking him again. They both moan loudly, though Draco ends up moaning around Potter’s thick cock. The Slytherin turns a delicate pink as he flushes heavily, the stain of color reaching even his chest. Potter’s hands reach down to grip his platinum blond hair, mussing up his gelled locks so that they curl around his calloused fingers.
The expression on Draco’s face is one of blissful contentment as Potter’s cock slides slickly in and out of his mouth. His lips are glossy with saliva and swollen a heavy red to match the head of Potter’s cock and a sticky smear of pre-come graces his cheek. When Potter comes, both their hips jerk forward and the Gryffindor gasps helplessly. Draco swallows his come, licking up every last drop and nuzzling the other boy’s cock one last time before pulling back.
When Potter reaches down to take care of Draco’s erection, he is surprised to see that Draco has already come without even having to be touched.
Draco climbs back into the chair while Potter closes his pants and he impulsively props his tawny head up on the other boy’s shoulder. He falls asleep like that, strangely happy and utterly satisfied, and he snuggles in closer when Potter puts his arm around him.
When he wakes, he is alone and completely sober. There is a blanket tucked around him and he still has the taste of Harry Potter’s come in his mouth.
Draco has to step over sleeping bodies to escape the common room. He spends most of the morning casting a mouth-cleansing spell on himself and gurgling mint water. He decides to hide in his room in order to better avoid everyone and contemplate how to transfer to another school. It is a weekend, so he has no classes and is free to isolate himself for the day.
Draco skips breakfast and has lunch in the kitchens, but finally manages to force himself to attend dinner. When he steps inside the Great Hall, everyone begins whispering, gossiping about him in low tones. Draco ignores them as best he can and takes a seat between Crabbe and Goyle who are to stupid to care one way or another about the Incident. Draco feels that the Incident deserves to be capitalized, just as much as his Problem. At first he had called it THE INCIDENT!!!! until his panic finally receded into something almost manageable.
Pansy watches him with accusing eyes, but she doesn’t attempt to talk to him which is a relief.
Draco starts in on dinner and halfway through he looks up and accidentally meets Potter’s eyes. The Gryffindor looks as horrified as he is, but he still glances down at Draco’s mouth before tearing his gaze away. Blushing inexplicably, Draco concentrates on his dinner and curses Harry Potter silently as he eats.
Everyone knows that Draco Malfoy has sucked Harry Potter’s cock at the Slytherin party, right in front of the fire where everyone could see. But, thankfully, they’re aware of the fact that he had been drugged out of his mind at the time. They also know, unfortunately, that he had really enjoyed himself while doing it.
Blaise Zabini calls him ‘Deep-throat Draco’ while Lavender Brown braves Slytherin territory to ask him for tips. His replies are suitably scathing and they both slink off, cut down to their proper size. After that, no one else dares to bother him with questions or rude comments concerning the Boy Who Lived and a certain Incident.
The next time he has Potions, Snape watches him suspiciously, as if he thinks his favorite pupil has been possessed by a malevolent spirit and will start causing mayhem at any second. The professor asks Draco to stay behind and once the class empties he proceeds to make a speech that Draco immediately begins repressing about homosexuality, Lucius, and his father’s favorite walking stick, which he will never look at the same way again.
Not to be outdone by Slytherins, the ever-competitive Gryffindor House decides to host their own party in Gryffindor Tower, complete with assistance from the infamous Weasley twins, to celebrate their recent Quidditch victory over Hufflepuff.
Draco refuses to attend and the other Slytherins go without him, smirking as they leave him to brood in his room. He usually broods in front of the common room fire, but he is currently avoiding it for obvious reasons.
Later, he hears rumors of how Potter scored with both the Patil twins, at the same time even. He spends several hours on his broom, because he is such bad company after hearing the rumors that even Crabbe and Goyle won’t go near him. Draco carefully ignores the fact he is not really jealous of Potter, but jealous over him.
The Seventh year Slytherins have Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs and when Ernie Macmillian has the gall to call Draco a flaming poof and a cocksucker, Draco transfigures him into a walrus. He ends up in detention with Hagrid that night, but feels that, all in all, seeing Macmillian with tusks was worth it. Hagrid makes him plant leprechaun gold in the garden for Nifflers to find in tomorrow’s Fourth Year Care of Magical Creatures class. It’s boring and difficult, because Hagrid has confiscated his wand and he complains to himself the whole time.
Halfway through his task, someone hits him from behind with a sleeping spell.
When he wakes up, he is tied to the tallest Quidditch goal post and stark naked. Draco is tied so tightly to the post every time he moves the ropes chafe him badly. He is shivering from the cold and he can tell by the night sky that it is just a little past midnight. The hours creep by at a snail’s pace and Draco’s balls attempt to crawl back inside him it is so chilly. His toes have turned blue and even imagining ways to torture his cowardly attackers can’t distract him from the fact he is absolutely humiliated.
When dawn’s first rays of light make the line of the horizon glow, Draco suddenly notices that someone has joined him. As the figure draws closer, he bites his lips nervously, hoping whoever it is will let themselves be sworn to secrecy. When he sees that is Harry Potter, Firebolt in tow, he groans out loud and wishes he could die on the spot. Banging his head against the post behind him only give him a headache, so he stops and watches resignedly as the other boy approaches him. Potter takes one look at the trussed up Slytherin and starts laughing so hard he cries, collapsing to the ground to guffaw loudly.
Draco curses him virulently and Potter’s laughs subside into mean little chuckles. When Draco demands that Potter untie him immediately, the Gryffindor gets a speculative look in his eye that bodes ill for the chilled blond. Potter refuses, smirking like a Slytherin, and warns Draco that unless he has something interesting to offer him he will go up to the Tower and wake his friends to see this for themselves. Humiliation makes his cheeks burn and tears prick his eyes. Seething, Draco offers one thing after another, but none of them satisfy the Gryffindor. Not money. Not help with his Potions homework. Not even a peek at Slytherin’s Quidditch plays.
Finally, desperate and freezing, Draco offers a blowjob.
This Potter accepts with relish.
He unties Draco, careless of how the ropes leave marks against the Slytherin’s pale skin as they unwind, and nods towards the Gryffindor locker rooms. Once he is blessedly free, Draco sneers at him and turns to leave, but Potter is not in the mood to tolerate his attempts to go back on his promise. He drags Draco into the locker room forcefully, knocking him to his knees, and opens his pants to take out his cock. The messy, wet head prods at Draco’s lips for an instant before the Slytherin opens his mouth to accept the other boy’s cock.
Involuntarily, his lashes flutter close as the taste of Potter’s precome soaks into his tongue. It’s as good as last time, better even, because now Draco is sober so he can take in every little detail and the situation is completely out of his control. Everything is Potter’s fault at the moment and that’s the way Draco likes it. Potter’s hands tug firmly at his head as he fucks the Slytherin’s mouth, his cock thrusting in and out, bruising Draco’s lips in a way that makes the blond’s cock start to rise. Sucking greedily at the offering, Draco twines his tongue around and over and against it, writing worshipful odes into Potter’s sensitive flesh.
His tongue lies heavy against the vein at the bottom of the other boy’s cock for a while, surging against it demandingly. Draco sucks cock like a starving man eats, hungry and desperate, needy in a way that makes him whine and whimper breathlessly. Potter’s hips shift with restless arousal, driving his cock into Draco’s mouth in even, hard strokes. His hands are buried in Draco’s hair, pulling him forward to take his cock deeper each time he thrusts inside his mouth, but Draco likes the rough handling. It makes his own desire sharper and the forceful tugs remind Draco that he is free to enjoy this as much as he wants because Potter is the one who asked for it and Draco is merely paying for his silence.
Soon Potter is gasping his release, flooding Draco’s mouth with so much come he has a hard time swallowing it all. A bit escapes from the sides of his mouth, but before he can wipe them away Potter is leaning forward to lick at the liquid trails on his chin. Draco is still hard and, as Potter kisses him, he presses against him eagerly, rubbing up against the other boy’s trim body like a cat in heat in an attempt to get himself off. But Potter is a generous winner and when he leans down to suck Draco’s cock the Slytherin has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in surprise.
It feels good. Wet and wonderful, with Potter’s tongue prodding at the head of his cock in a way that makes him squirm delightedly. He throws back his head and closes his eyes, giving himself up to Potter without another thought. When a finger rubs at his entrance, he spreads his thighs instinctively, gasping when Potter slides it inside him and crooks it just so. It feels as if he is being electrocuted by lightening, like a shocking charm gone wrong, and Draco writhes against the cool tile floor, rocking between Potter’s finger and his mouth, shameless in his desire.
Potter moves back and Draco complains wordlessly, arching up and spreading his thighs wider, begging for it. Begging silently for anything at all and Potter gasps at the sight, scrambling over to open his locker and grab a small bottle of hand lotion. Then his finger is back, slick and sliding inside him so perfectly, followed by another and then another until Draco’s eyes are rolling back in his head and his body is humming with pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. Potter removes his fingers hurriedly, slicking his erection with lotion, and then he pushes into Draco carefully, easing his cock inside the Slytherin’s ass.
It stretches him almost painfully, but it feels good too and Draco finds himself impaled and invaded and for just one terror filled moment he is panicked, trying to wrench away despite the discomfort he his causing himself. He is afraid, but Potter’s arms around him are comforting and the other boy’s warm, gentle voice is soothing and he slowly starts to relax as Potter strokes his chest and gentles him the way a seasoned rider gentles a shying horse.
When Potter takes his mouth in a slow, leisurely kiss it feels like coming home. Draco gasps when he starts to move, his hands scrabbling against the tile floor even as his tongue duels Potter’s and he lifts his hips up better take his cock. Again and again he thrusts, splitting Draco open and filling him up to the brim, until Draco feels so much he expects that any moment all his emotions will overflow and spill out. But they don’t.
Draco orgasms silently, his mouth open and dry, but the best part is lying boneless under Potter while his cock moves in and out of him easily. Hard, hard erection rocking back and forth, the slap of his balls against Draco’s ass, the smooth rub of Potter’s clothed chest against his own bare skin; it’s nice to concentrate on these sensations, which are only amplified by the warmth of afterglow. Then Potter comes, his jaw clenching, moving in Draco until the last pulse.
When he pulls out, it feels strange and it brings Draco to his senses.
He showers silently, ignoring Potter who shoots him worried looks as he fixes his Quidditch uniform and cleans up their mess from the tiles. When he tries to start a conversation, Draco brushes past him and unlocks some hapless Gryffindor’s locker, taking out an extra change of clothes and shrugging into them carelessly. He leaves without even a backwards glance and doesn’t bother to respond when Potter calls his name as he steps off the Quidditch pitch. His body is still singing, but his mind is dark with self-recrimination and disgust.
He avoids Potter relentlessly for the next three days and, oddly enough, finds himself writing to his mother. The letter is written with uncharacteristic sloppiness and Draco mails it before the ink is even dry by way of his eagle owl. The next day at breakfast he receives her reply. He feeds his eagle owl and takes the letter, leaving his breakfast practically untouched as he exits the Great Hall.
The letter is short and to the point. Narcissa wants him to do what makes him happy, even if that involves screwing Harry Potter. Her words are not as coarse as all that though, but the meaning is obvious and Draco remembers her strange lectures and decides that she understands him better than he understands himself. He has her tacit permission, and it eases something tight inside him. He has stopped trying to gain his father’s approval, but Snape’s unsettling walking stick story is more than enough proof that Draco will not be the first Malfoy to seek pleasure with his own sex. He has his own hang-ups to get through though, and he spends the rest of the week in a haze. He puts in a few hours brooding in front of the common room fire and even more flying around on his broomstick, his gaze turned inward during his meditations.
Finally, on Saturday Draco decides to put an end to his dithering. He corners a first year Gryffindor and bullies her into giving Harry Potter a message, then threatens her with bodily harm to ensure she memorizes it word for word. He asks, or rather demands, Potter to come to Draco’s room at dinner time so they can discuss the situation. He doesn’t give directions. Potter is incredibly resourceful and Draco has always had a habit of testing people.
Draco spends the rest of the day fretting and tidying up his room, arranging and rearranging it until he is finally satisfied with his own efforts. His best black silk sheets go on his bed and a few candles are placed around his bed. It’s easy to find a bottle or two of Firewhiskey, the remnants of the infamous Slytherin party, and the house elves are more than happy to provide Draco with a private dinner for two and set it up in his sitting room.
He bathes in the prefect’s bathroom and prepares himself carefully with oil, because he already knows where this little meeting is headed and he is not one to waste time. Draco dresses in a thin robe made of samite, and he does not bother to wear anything underneath it. He doesn’t bother with shoes either, he dislikes them, and he has a feeling that Potter would look askance at the sandals he sometimes wears during the summer, which lace up to his calf and look rather archaic. His hair he leaves severely alone and it curls damply around his ears and falls into his eyes in cornsilk corkscrews. Draco hates his unruly curls and usually slicks them back, but he has a sneaking suspicion Potter rather likes his hair in its natural state.
The rest of his time is spent pacing back and forth nervously, running his hands through his hair and straightening his expensive robes, even though they are tailored so well there is no need for it. Before he can drive himself insane with his own worrying, someone knocks purposefully at his door. Draco takes one last look at himself in the mirror, ignoring it’s compliments in order to fuss slightly with a curl that keeps falling in his eyes, before rushing to the door.
Potter is wearing his school robes, though his Gryffindor tie is slightly askew, and his eyes widen slightly at Draco’s appearance. They make rather uncomfortable small talk and Draco directs him to the table the house elves set up for them earlier. They eat the provided meal quietly, Potter casting curious looks Draco’s way every now and then. Finally, when they’re both finished, Potter pushes his plate away and demands an explanation.
When Draco tells him exactly what he wants from Potter, the other boy actually blushes, his eyes widening behind his trademark spectacles at Draco’s frank (and rather vulgar) response.
Seducing the Boy Who Lived is remarkably easy and Draco leads him into the bedroom, shooting him smoldering looks over his shoulder. He shrugs his robes off and stands naked in front of the other boy, stretching back on his bed and beckoning Potter closer with a beguiling smile and lustful eyes. Potter strips hurriedly, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get out of his trousers, which makes Draco snicker. When the Gryffindor lunges at him and takes his breath away with a crushing kiss, Draco completely forgets about things like snickering and concentrates on things like eagerly lifting his hips up at just the right angle to let Potter’s erection slide right inside him. It startles the Gryffindor slightly, but Potter has always been a quick study and as soon as he plants his knees firmly on the bed he begins fucking Draco at a steady pace.
Potter’s free hand finds Draco’s sensitive pink nipples and he tugs on the rings that pierce them mercilessly, pulling and plucking them until Draco is gasping for breath and teetering on the edge of orgasm. Draco’s long legs are wrapped tightly around Potter’s slim waist, one hand buried in the wild mess of the Gryffindor’s hair and his other clutching the headboard of the bed tightly in one sweaty fist. The excruciatingly pleasurable way Potter’s cock is pounding inside him leaves him in a euphoric state. When Potter bends his head to suck at Draco’s adam’s apple, the Slytherin discovers, to his surprise, that he is a screamer. His nails dig into the back of Potter’s muscular arms as they fuck wildly and without restraint. It feels as if Potter is trying to climb inside him he is thrusting so hard, his hips battering Draco’s arse and his cock brushing up against his prostate on every other stroke.
Finally, with one last shout, Draco shudders helplessly in Potter’s grasp.
Potter doesn’t even bother to slow down, his brow furrowed with concentration and his face flushed as he pushes his hips forward again and again. Draco mewls and moans under him, shuddering when the other boy hits his prostate. Finally Potter groans helplessly and comes, his eyes shut tightly and his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth. When the Gryffindor collapses next to Draco, this time the Slytherin doesn’t run away.
They talk quietly together long into the night, a long meandering dialogue that reveals more than Draco feels comfortable with at first. But Potter reveals his own secrets and the trust he puts in Draco makes the Slytherin glow warmly with gratitude. Somehow, it evolves into kissing. Their mouths and tongues move together for some time, slick and yielding as they invade and are invaded in turn. Draco’s hands explore Potter’s body, mapping the ridges of his ribs and the knobs of his spine. His fingers smooth the other boy’s collar bones and Draco purrs with pleasure when Potter drags his hands down his body to knead the back of his thighs and cup his arse.
Eventually, after a delightful hour or so of foreplay, Draco finds himself braced over Potter, his pale cheek sliding against the Gryffindor’s as he eases his erection inside the other boy. It’s tighter than he expects and so very hot. Potter twists underneath him, moaning softly, and Draco fists his hands into his silk sheets as he pumps in and out of Potter, his mouth hanging open as he pants helplessly for breath. He doesn’t make much noise, because it’s too perfect and far too raw. Draco suspects that if any sound escapes his lips the image in front of him will shatter, so he is as quiet can be. Every moan he stifles vibrates in his chest. Potter cries out underneath him, come splattering on their bodies in long, pearly strings.
When Draco orgasms, he feels as though he is falling apart, but Potter carefully puts him back together again with gentle words and gentler hands.
When they can no longer ignore the way the sheets are stuck to their skin, they sneak into the prefects bathroom to bathe together. It is oddly easy to push the Gryffindor around and tease him, splashing him with water in order to keep his attention focused where it should be - on Draco. Potter calls him by his first name, grinning shyly at his own daring, and Draco returns the favor.
They wash together and afterwards Draco finds himself bent over Harry’s lap, sucking blissfully on the other boy’s cock and moaning around his aroused flesh. Harry is making helpless little sounds in the back of his throat, which only makes the whole ordeal hotter, and Draco loses himself in the feel and taste of going down on him. Even the musky smell enthralls him, and he mouths Harry’s balls reverently, always returning to ply his lips and tongue on the head of Harry’s flushed and dripping cock. Harry starts to talk, the words seemingly ripped right from his gut. His babbling is a mix of praise and vulgarity so hot Draco starts to jerk himself off. Harry talks about how he adores Draco’s clever mouth and wants to spend all of his time thrusting into it, nestled there for the rest of eternity.
Draco finds the idea endlessly appealing, if a bit impractical.
Harry grabs the back of Draco’s head and arches his hips forward, coming so hard his toes curl and even as his come floods Draco’s mouth the Slytherin shivers violently and spills over his own fist.
Panting, they tumble to the cold tiles and lay there for a long moment, before Harry starts to giggle and Draco joins him, the sound of their laughter bouncing off the walls and blending into a merry harmony. Draco giggles one last time and sighs, curling around Harry who is more than happy to tuck the pale boy up against his side. Their tangle of warm, damp boy-flesh keeps them both warm in the steamy bathroom.
Draco may have a Problem, but somehow it fits perfectly with Harry’s to form something that’s surprisingly appealing. Their Problems are like two halves of one whole, each useless without the other.
Besides, Draco would rather have a Problem like Harry, than no Problem at all.
END
ETA: Oh, I gave Draco curly hair because a) I can see him as a little boy with long, golden curls. Can't you? and b) because I figure if he hates his curls that would explain why he constantly slicks his hair back. I was sort of pondering Spike/James Marsters' hair because really, if it wasn't for seasons 5,6, and 7 I never would have realized his hair was curly and c) I do so love curly hair.
And I really won't mind if you click on the link and you just happen to be a little under seventeen, but I swear if you're related to me you don't want to read that. Seriously. I'm talking to you mom.
Don't click on the link if you're under 17 or RELATED TO ME. I mean it.
Title: An Obscene Obsession (subtitled: An Exercise in Writing Oral Sex)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: H/D as always
Summary: Draco is in denial and has an oral fixation.
A/N's and warnings: There are mentions of het sex. There's quite a bit of smut and probably some bad language too. Also, this Draco is a little more fanon than I'm used to writing, though he's not a complete ice prince. The characters belong to JKR, yadda yadda, but Draco's Snitch (you'll know what I'm talking about when you read that part, I don't want to spoil it) is mine, mine, mine and woe betide any poor, misguided soul who decides to steal it.
The poem below is by ee cummings, because hey. If I'm gonna write porn I'm gonna go all out.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
-- ee cummings
Draco Malfoy has a Problem.
It’s an incredibly frustrating and confusing problem. So much so, that it deserves to be capitalized. That’s how he thinks of it in his head, when he can bear to think of it at all; his Problem.
It is not his fault, of course. In Draco’s world things are never his fault and the Mudblood only beats him in Transfiguration because McGonagall favors her and Harry Potter only catches the snitch because he cheats. Draco’s Problem is Harry Potter’s fault, because in Draco’s world most things are.
Draco has heard the first step is admitting you have a problem and usually he would never admit to having a fault much less one as bizarre and horrible as this one, but even he can see that it’s gone too far.
Draco Malfoy has an obsession with Harry Potter’s cock.
And he wants it to stop.
Draco is heterosexual. His Problem is merely a fluke, some weird obsession that any other normal young man could have. But it’s not any other young man, it’s him, and that’s unacceptable. It took him four months to realize his fascination was a little odd another three to admit something was wrong. But this obsession will eventually go away. He will make sure of it.
He doesn’t know why he’s obsessed with that particular body part or indeed why he’s obsessed with any part of Potter at all. But if he had a choice which part it could be, it certainly wouldn’t be the one he seems to currently be enamored with. It makes him angry that out of all the body parts to choose from, his subconscious chose the most inconvenient one of all.
He can appreciate, in a purely aesthetic way, the dip of Potter’s lower back and the line of his long limbs. The breadth of his shoulders, the flare of his boyish hips, and the curve of his tight ass. The bright green of his eyes and the way his left cheek dimples when he smiles. There’s nothing wrong with merely appreciating something like that. Everyone else does. It’s nothing unusual at all.
Draco would prefer to be obsessed with any of these things, anything but Potter’s cock, but there it is. He can’t help himself from stealing sidelong glances at it from under the half-moon fan of his silver lashes when he’s standing near Potter at the urinals. His eyes are drawn to the bulge in Potter’s Quidditch uniform during matches when he should be looking for the snitch and the drape of his robes in Potions. And if Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch players showered together Draco would probably stare there too.
No one seems to have noticed his preoccupation with Potter’s crotch, but he suspects it is only a matter of time.
He often sits in History of Magic, pondering his obsession with Potter’s cock while Binns’ ghostly voice drones on in the background.
Cock is such a vulgar word, but it’s the one he usually uses when he thinks about it. Prick, penis, pecker, dick - they all sound sort of silly. Cock on the other hand, well, that’s silly too, but not quite so much. Better than calling it a sausage or a wand at any rate.
Draco doesn’t understand his inexplicable and completely inappropriate obsession. It’s not like Potter’s package is huge. It’s a little above average size and he’s uncut, like most wizards, but it’s nothing special.
Except for the fact Draco Malfoy wants to taste it for some reason.
He imagines it sometimes, the way it would taste. How it would feel heavy on his tongue or stretch his lips just so around the shaft. How Potter’s balls would feel in his hands while he nuzzled at his cock, inhaling the musky male scent of him. He wonders, absently, what Potter’s precome would feel like dribbling on his tongue and what the slide of wet skin would feel like if he rubbed the tip of it over his cheek. When he thinks about it his breath shortens, his hands tremble, his cheeks flush and his mouth gets so dry he has to lick his lips.
He spends a lot time thinking about it.
Draco also spends a lot of private time in the shower and his room and his roommates start teasing him about his habit of jacking off for hours at a time. Soon enough the whole school knows he has an insatiable libido and if Draco was the sort to be embarrassed by rumors he would blush as the girls whisper behind their hands or giggle whenever he looks their way.
He starts dating Pansy Parkinson, because despite his strange Problem he does like girls and she seems intrigued by the rumors.
He kisses her during their free period every afternoon for exactly half an hour before Quidditch Practice and fits his hand around the curve of her breast when she lets him. Draco is oddly disappointed the one time she lets him slide his hand up her skirt and all he finds is damp cotton panties and strangely flat genitalia.
Two weeks into their relationship, Pansy goes down on him after curfew in a dusty little classroom off the Potions hallway that most students of Slytherin House frequent for illicit purposes. Her mouth is warm and wet around him, but she doesn’t take him in very far and her tongue is clumsy against his skin. He comes anyway, but thinks afterwards that he could have done a better job of it.
Three days after that she demands that he go down on her and he sneers at her daring, but finally decides there’s no reason for him not to. Flesh is flesh after all, and he has always been good at using his mouth even if it is only to fling insults.
Pansy tastes stale on his tongue and the whole ordeal is boring and slightly revolting to him. She flops like a landed fish under his mouth and moans loudly as he pumps his fingers in and out of her wet quim. His tongue lashes at her clit and then she seizes up and yanks on his hair, screaming like a banshee. Draco sits back as she gasps for breath, calmly wiping his face off with his sleeve.
When he looks up he sees Harry Potter watching him with wide-eyed shock.
Slytherin loses forty points and Draco is proclaimed a sex god by the whole school.
Harry Potter, as Head Boy, is not really allowed to spread gossip, but somehow by Wednesday everyone knows exactly what went on in that little dusty room. Pansy is called a slut at breakfast by a handful of Gryffindors and she hits Draco on the shoulder when he doesn’t bother to stick up for her. They break up on Friday, leaving Draco single just in time for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.
That weekend he visits Honeydukes and buys himself some sugar quills and a whole bag of blood-flavored lollipops. They taste sickly-sweet, but they soothe the itch of his obsession a little. Draco makes his rounds through Hogsmeade, gathering the necessary school supplies and any random little objects that strike his fancy, which is the way he usually shops. As he walks, he twirls his tongue around the lollipop easily, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks away quite happily.
He stops by the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer and immediately sees Harry Potter getting groped by Lavender Brown, her bright pink nails tracing over the seam of Potter’s denim trousers and the sizable erection straining underneath. It takes him several tries to finally yank his eyes away and when he does he notices Potter is staring at the lollipop in his mouth.
Draco licks at the lollipop in long, sensual swipes, moving his tongue in complex patterns over the glistening candy. Potter watches Draco’s red-stained mouth and his darting pink tongue as Lavender Brown gives him a hand job. The Boy Who Lived closes his eyes tightly as his hips buck upwards underneath the table and he comes right there in front of everyone, although no one seems to actually notice.
Draco is starting to suspect he’s not the only one with a Problem.
Monday, he brings a few sugar quills to Potions class to test his theory. He goes through five of them, languidly enjoying each one, and by the time class is over Potter is squirming in his chair so vigorously even Snape notices and the professor snidely admonishes him to use the W.C. before class in the future. The Slytherins laugh meanly and even a few Gryffindors chuckle at his expense. Potter blushes brightly and practically flees the classroom, leaving the Mudblood and the Weasel to exchange a puzzled glance before following him out into the hallway.
Draco smirks to himself and decides to get a tongue ring.
He sneaks out of the castle the next night when he is supposed to be doing his prefect patrol and floos to the Leaky Cauldron from the Hog’s Head. It only takes five minutes to locate Tonks’ Magical Tattoo and Piercing Parlor.
The girl inside has bright green hair and she raises a pierced eyebrow when Draco tells her what he wants. She calls him cute and offers to do his nipples for free and Draco, after a moment of thought, agrees.
Draco shells out three galleons and a few sickles for the piercing. Each one hurts with a burst of pain that makes his eyes water and afterwards she heals him with a spell or three. He has a little hoop in each nipple and his tongue ring, a tiny miniature snitch, vibrates with a murmured word. Draco lets it clack against his teeth rhythmically for a moment before turning it off again.
He shows his piercing off the next morning at the Slytherin table and knows that before first class of the day Potter will hear about it from his gossiping classmates in great detail.
Draco takes to playing with his tongue ring in class and every time he does the Boy Who Lived stares fixedly at him. His cheeks color when Draco makes it vibrate and even Weasley has twigged to Potter’s habit of looking intently in Draco’s direction. Draco still thinks about sucking Potter’s cock, but now he also thinks about how it would feel resting between the cheeks of his ass and if it would hurt to have it inside him.
The idea scares him and he decides he needs to fix his Problem before it gets worse.
At dinner that night he inspects all the girls at the Slytherin table and after considering it carefully he settles on Queenie Greengrass who is renowned for her spectacular blowjobs. The Slytherin Quidditch team calls her Queenie Greenknees amongst themselves, but that doesn’t stop her from getting grass stains on the knees of her robes and practicing fellatio on boys whenever the mood strikes her. Draco catches her eye over the jug of pumpkin juice and winks at her, flashing his tongue ring in her direction. By eight o’clock that night she’s agreed to be his girlfriend and Pansy is almost dying with jealousy.
He tries to forget how he wants to feel Potter’s cock inside him, both his arse and his mouth, and that Potter has been staring at him.
He flirts with Queenie in the Slytherin common room and she sits on his lap, squirming so that his erection presses against her bottom. Queenie is much more straightforward than Pansy and Draco finds her frankness refreshing, if a little startling. She goes to bed around nine, smirking knowingly at him, and he makes his way to his private room shortly afterwards. Draco wanks off, his hand clasped tightly around his aching cock, and right before comes he thinks of Potter.
Draco doesn’t sleep very well that night.
He ignores Potter gaze the next day in Care of Magical Creatures and doesn’t play with his tongue ring at all in front of the other boy.
Draco invites Queenie to visit his room during their free period afterwards and she agrees with a saucy smile. He is proud of having his own room and delights in showing it off. Queenie admires it and then pointedly compliments the bed. They snog heatedly for a while and end up skipping History of Magic while Queenie leisurely sucks his cock. Draco finds himself taking notes on her technique until finally he can’t think coherently at all.
She asks for reciprocation and Draco complies. He discovers that he still finds going down on a girl distasteful, though it’s more interesting now that he can play with his tongue ring while doing it. He makes her come twice easily, his tiny tongue-snitch rapidly fluttering its wings.
When he asks if he can fuck her she agrees dazedly, fumbling for her wand to cast a contraceptive spell. Queenie is not a virgin and he doesn’t let her know he is one, carefully thrusting inside her and biting his lip at how good it feels. It takes him a while to pick up a decent rhythm and she kneads her own breasts as he fucks her. His hands press flat against the bed while he moves sinuously above her and she grasps his bony hips with her thighs. They both come again and Draco lets her use his bathroom before she leaves.
The rank smell of sex pervades his rumpled bed sheets and, mildly disgusted, Draco sleeps on his couch instead.
It only takes until lunchtime the next day for everyone to know that he and Queenie are having sex and that Draco Malfoy is the best lay she ever had.
He is forced to suffer through a talk with Snape, who has also heard the rumors, about safe sex. After Snape is through with his lecture, Draco assures his Head of House that he is neither stupid, nor incautious and they both fervently agree never to bring the subject up again.
Draco gets bored of Queenie quickly, but since they end up having sex every night he decides against breaking up with her. The Quidditch team teases him at practice, but it’s a friendly sort of teasing and Draco finds himself the center of attention in the locker room when he describes his sex life in great detail. Over the course of the week, they fuck in a variety of positions and when she rims him he comes so hard he blacks out. He makes her swear to keep the less decent details of their sex life private and he ends up begging hoarsely when she finger-fucks him into oblivion.
She tells her friends at breakfast he is incredibly kinky, but, as promised, doesn’t go into details.
He ties her up while they fuck and she returns the favor. Queenie suggests they have anal sex, which they do, and Draco gets himself off by rubbing his cock between her breasts. He prefers to take her from behind, watching the play of her back muscles as she rocks into him and he still takes mental notes on her technique when she blows him. They experiment together, because without the novelty Draco doesn’t enjoy their romps very much. Pretty soon, Queenie is as bored of him as he is of her and they end up screwing less and less until they finally decide to mutually call it quits.
Pansy rejoices and tales of her energetic victory dance and loud whooping shouts of triumph are spread far and wide.
Draco hasn’t been keeping track of the days and he is surprised to discover Christmas break isn’t very far off. He spends Christmas at the Manor with his mother while his fugitive father stays at the Dark Lord’s right hand in some secret location. Neither Narcissa nor Draco bother much with him now that the Malfoy estate is indisputably theirs. Draco receives a lot of Christmas presents, to his utmost satisfaction.
Queenie Greengrass quite unexpectedly gives him a vibrator and a bottle of lubrication.
He ends up with a bag of sugar quills too. There is no tag to let him know who they are from, but Draco has his suspicions.
Naricissa spends the holiday dropping vague comments about acceptance and love into their conversations, which makes Draco stare at her with blank incomprehension. He is eager to leave the Manor when the time comes, if only to get away from his mother’s well-meaning and confusing lectures.
Most mornings he wakes up with dried come flaking off his stomach and the memories of strange, disturbingly Potter-themed dreams floating through his head.
When he goes back to school, Pansy fawns over him shamelessly. He ignores her and his Problem returns with a vengeance and Draco finds himself watching Potter in the halls and thinking about the way his hair looks like a wren’s nest and how his shoulders have broadened over the holiday vacation.
Potter watches him back sometimes, his green eyes dark with some unfathomable emotion.
Draco’s grades fall a little, his History of Magic test scores most of all because he often drifts off into daydreams during Binns’ class. School is boring and tedious, which only gives him more time to think about how pleasing the shape of Potter’s cock is and what it would feel like in his mouth. He starts chewing on his quills in class and doodling to keep his mind occupied when he’s bored. It doesn’t help much, but there are few distractions at Hogwarts. When the seventh year Slytherins decide to sneak out and go clubbing in Muggle London that weekend he takes to the idea with enthusiasm.
They all dress like Muggles in indecently tight denim trousers and shirts made of synthetic fabric that hug the torso. Draco wears all black and digs out his old dragonhide jacket and boots, leaving his hair free of gel so that it curls in the humid air of the club. The music makes his bones vibrate it’s so loud, but Draco is grateful it drowns out the sound of Pansy’s voice.
He finds himself in a sea of sweaty flesh, grinding against anyone who sidles up to him. As he dances, he loses himself in the thumping rhythm of the strange Muggle music blasting through the room. Lights flash in random patterns around him, making him glow. He takes a few short refreshment breaks and quickly finds himself drunk, which only makes the play of lights across his closed eyelids that much more interesting.
When he comes to the next morning he is fully dressed and lying face down on his bed with the taste of dead troll in his mouth and little memory of what happened the night before. His hangover is brutal, but he feels much better after taking a shower and stealing a potion from Snape’s stores to ease his headache.
When he finally remembers that last night he went down on a dark haired Muggle boy with striking blue eyes in the men’s room, he spends the rest of the morning in queasy misery kneeling on already sore knees in front of the toilet.
After that he studiously avoids Potter.
It takes too much effort to have a girlfriend, so Draco strings Pansy along and flirts with her whenever the mood strikes him which isn’t very often. They only kiss once and afterwards Draco feels dirty so he doesn’t repeat the experience.
Unexpectedly, Potter outs himself as bisexual and the school runs rampant with rumors and conjecture. The Daily Prophet publishes an article on it, which Draco sneers at during breakfast and his appetite flees so quickly he can’t push his plate away fast enough. The whole thing makes his head pound in a dizzying staccato beat and he decides to go to the Infirmary for a potion. Madam Pomfrey cures his headache and tells him it is from stress and that he needs to relax, which is no help at all.
A few days later, when Draco is in the library, Pansy approaches him to tell him a choice bit of gossip. The Boy Who Lived is dating a Hufflepuff named Zacharias Smith. At dinner that night, as Draco eats he watches the Hufflepuff table from underneath his lashes and finds himself choking on his pumpkin juice when he realizes Smith looks and acts more than a little like him.
After dinner Draco locks himself away in his room. He uses the vibrator Queenie gave him for Christmas and when he fucks himself with it the muscles in his thighs tremble so hard he gets a cramp. He comes a record-breaking amount of times that night and each time he does, it is Potter’s name that falls from his lips. Draco winds up falling asleep with the vibrator still inside him and his damp sheets twisted messily around his legs, but he sleeps deeply and well.
It is the best sleep he has had in months.
Potter and the Hufflepuff date for two weeks and three days until Smith breaks up with him. Draco is relieved he will no longer have to see them holding hands or kissing in the hallway between classes. Rumors fly, but Potter refuses to discuss whatever happened between them and whenever someone asks him about it his gaze drifts towards Draco.
Weasley has taken to shooting Draco wary, resentful looks while Granger watches him with sharp, probing eyes in a way that makes him oddly nervous. Potter still stares, but Draco pointedly ignores him.
He compounds his Problem by practicing fellatio on the vibrator while he wanks off, learning how to smoothly deep throat without gagging. It makes his dreams more vivid and his craving worse so he doesn’t do it often.
Draco considers dating Pansy again, but decides against it when he notices that she has recently cut her hair in a style that only strengthens her resemblance to a pug. The other Slytherin girls are either too ugly or too prissy for his tastes and he refuses to date a girl from another house. He decides to stop dating, for the moment at least.
He takes to practicing Quidditch at all hours of the day and night to distract himself from his Problem. It works to a certain extent. His game improves drastically and he is usually too tired to dream when he finally collapses in bed.
His body often aches from so much exercise, but eventually he becomes so accustomed to constant flying that the aches eventually fade away altogether. Draco is proud of the way his arms and legs have strengthened and how flat his ridged stomach has become. Even his ass has firmed, still pleasingly curved, but muscular, and girls watch him saunter through the halls longingly, whispering about how attractive he has become.
Slytherin House decides to host a party to spice things up and this time even the Hufflepuffs are invited. Morale is suddenly at all time high as the students have something to look forward to after slogging so long through dreary school work. Snape predictably turns a blind eye as they procure alcohol from Hogsmeade and decorate the dungeons for the event. Zabini, Muggleborn that he is, manages to get his hands on some interesting Muggle designer drugs. Draco slips out to Knockturn Alley for pixie dust, certain mushrooms, and various mind-altering potions. Pansy and her girls set up a spell so that music can be heard in every room and soon enough the latest Weird Sisters’ songs echo loudly throughout the dungeons.
Draco wears loose, black silk pants and a tight, short-sleeved white shirt made of silk so thin it is practically transparent. The pants hang low on his hips, revealing his jutting hipbones and flat stomach. Over that he wears a light summer robe that is, of course, black. He doesn’t bother with shoes or socks, though he does cast a warming charm on himself to keep his feet from getting cold. Pansy almost swoons when she sees him and promptly attaches herself to his side like a limpet.
Students soon arrive and Draco has two shots of Firewhiskey before deciding to avoid imbibing any more alcohol. He doesn’t want to wind up on his knees in front of a boy like the last time he was intoxicated. The buzz of the Firewhiskey fades into a pleasant warmth and Draco laughs and flirts, entertaining the crowd with impressions and skits. His humorous depiction of Dumbledore’s desperate addiction to lemon drops is the most popular and it causes the crowd to roar with laughter.
After a few hours of dancing the party is at it’s peak and, with a little encouragement from his friends, Draco takes a thimbleful of pixie dust, which is a strong aphrodisiac as well as a mild hallucinogen. Almost everyone has taken something, though most Hufflepuffs abstain.
Colors suddenly appear more vibrant and the music deepens to something complex and enthralling. Draco escapes from Pansy’s clutches in order to better enjoy the experience and sprawls in a large leather armchair near the fire, his eyelids at half mast as he stares into the dancing, flickering flames. They twist into convoluted patterns, shifting colors so rapidly he can barely keep track of them. His cock aches against the silk of his pants and he savors the pounding of his pulse in his nether regions, slouching down and letting his head rest against the arm of the chair. Too hot for comfort, he struggles out of his robe and tosses it to the floor.
The fire quickly loses his interest and he observes the blur of color and motion that is the makeshift dance floor instead. It fascinates him for a while, until something else draws his attention. Not too far away from him, a circle of sitting students are playing some strange game, their smiles wide and giddy.
Queenie’s voice is loud, her low cut robes revealing a shocking amount of cleavage, and she seems to be speaking to Harry Potter. Potter is blushing and shaking his head, sending his tousled hair in all directions. Someone pushes Potter to his feet and away from the circle and the Gryffindor reluctantly makes his way over to Draco who watches with dilated pupils as he approaches.
When Potter speaks his words are distant and distorted, as if he is talking through water and Draco can’t understand a word of it. He merely blinks at Potter slowly in drugged manner, unusually quiescent for once. Exasperated at the lack of response, the Gryffindor throws up his hands and starts to stalk away, but Queenie gestures for him to go back imperiously. When he does, he nervously leans down to capture Draco’s mouth with his own and the Slytherin finds himself accepting the kiss submissively, lifting his face to Potter’s to get a better angle. Their tongues duel, Draco’s tiny snitch-piercing sliding along the roof of Potter’s mouth and clacking against the other boy’s teeth several times as they kiss.
Potter squeezes into the armchair with him to get closer and Draco, his sense of propriety having long since succumbed to the effects of pixie dust, merely wiggles back to make room for him.
The hoots and hollers of the other students make no sense so Draco ignores them, following Potter’s mouth when he pulls back to gasp for breath. He teaches the other boy by example how to breathe through his nose as they kiss, pressing his body closely to Potter’s and winding his arms around the Gryffindor’s neck as they writhe together.
Draco, flushing high on his cheeks from passion, slides out of the chair onto his knees. He nips his way down Potter’s clothed chest until he reaches his stomach where he can pull up the Gryffindor’s red cotton shirt. Draco places wet, open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach bare skin and follows the fine little line of hair from Potter’s navel to the top of his jeans. Potter stares at him, his green eyes wide with surprise and dark with lust even as he bites his lip uncertainly. Draco struggles with the other boy’s buttons and, with Potter’s help, manages to pry open the fly to get at Potter’s gorgeous cock.
Draco is aware that they still have an audience, but doesn’t quite understand that he should care.
Potter’s cock fits perfectly in his mouth and the sharp, bittersweet taste of Potter’s delicious pre-come makes Draco’s mouth water eagerly. Draco bobs his head as he deep throats, his eyes closing in ecstasy at finally being right where he wants which is between Harry Potter’s thighs. His hands slide into the other boy’s trousers to cup his balls and roll them gently, his tongue flicking out on every stroke to tease the head of Potter’s cock.
He pulls back to mutter the word that makes his tongue ring vibrate and Potter practically convulses when Draco starts sucking him again. They both moan loudly, though Draco ends up moaning around Potter’s thick cock. The Slytherin turns a delicate pink as he flushes heavily, the stain of color reaching even his chest. Potter’s hands reach down to grip his platinum blond hair, mussing up his gelled locks so that they curl around his calloused fingers.
The expression on Draco’s face is one of blissful contentment as Potter’s cock slides slickly in and out of his mouth. His lips are glossy with saliva and swollen a heavy red to match the head of Potter’s cock and a sticky smear of pre-come graces his cheek. When Potter comes, both their hips jerk forward and the Gryffindor gasps helplessly. Draco swallows his come, licking up every last drop and nuzzling the other boy’s cock one last time before pulling back.
When Potter reaches down to take care of Draco’s erection, he is surprised to see that Draco has already come without even having to be touched.
Draco climbs back into the chair while Potter closes his pants and he impulsively props his tawny head up on the other boy’s shoulder. He falls asleep like that, strangely happy and utterly satisfied, and he snuggles in closer when Potter puts his arm around him.
When he wakes, he is alone and completely sober. There is a blanket tucked around him and he still has the taste of Harry Potter’s come in his mouth.
Draco has to step over sleeping bodies to escape the common room. He spends most of the morning casting a mouth-cleansing spell on himself and gurgling mint water. He decides to hide in his room in order to better avoid everyone and contemplate how to transfer to another school. It is a weekend, so he has no classes and is free to isolate himself for the day.
Draco skips breakfast and has lunch in the kitchens, but finally manages to force himself to attend dinner. When he steps inside the Great Hall, everyone begins whispering, gossiping about him in low tones. Draco ignores them as best he can and takes a seat between Crabbe and Goyle who are to stupid to care one way or another about the Incident. Draco feels that the Incident deserves to be capitalized, just as much as his Problem. At first he had called it THE INCIDENT!!!! until his panic finally receded into something almost manageable.
Pansy watches him with accusing eyes, but she doesn’t attempt to talk to him which is a relief.
Draco starts in on dinner and halfway through he looks up and accidentally meets Potter’s eyes. The Gryffindor looks as horrified as he is, but he still glances down at Draco’s mouth before tearing his gaze away. Blushing inexplicably, Draco concentrates on his dinner and curses Harry Potter silently as he eats.
Everyone knows that Draco Malfoy has sucked Harry Potter’s cock at the Slytherin party, right in front of the fire where everyone could see. But, thankfully, they’re aware of the fact that he had been drugged out of his mind at the time. They also know, unfortunately, that he had really enjoyed himself while doing it.
Blaise Zabini calls him ‘Deep-throat Draco’ while Lavender Brown braves Slytherin territory to ask him for tips. His replies are suitably scathing and they both slink off, cut down to their proper size. After that, no one else dares to bother him with questions or rude comments concerning the Boy Who Lived and a certain Incident.
The next time he has Potions, Snape watches him suspiciously, as if he thinks his favorite pupil has been possessed by a malevolent spirit and will start causing mayhem at any second. The professor asks Draco to stay behind and once the class empties he proceeds to make a speech that Draco immediately begins repressing about homosexuality, Lucius, and his father’s favorite walking stick, which he will never look at the same way again.
Not to be outdone by Slytherins, the ever-competitive Gryffindor House decides to host their own party in Gryffindor Tower, complete with assistance from the infamous Weasley twins, to celebrate their recent Quidditch victory over Hufflepuff.
Draco refuses to attend and the other Slytherins go without him, smirking as they leave him to brood in his room. He usually broods in front of the common room fire, but he is currently avoiding it for obvious reasons.
Later, he hears rumors of how Potter scored with both the Patil twins, at the same time even. He spends several hours on his broom, because he is such bad company after hearing the rumors that even Crabbe and Goyle won’t go near him. Draco carefully ignores the fact he is not really jealous of Potter, but jealous over him.
The Seventh year Slytherins have Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs and when Ernie Macmillian has the gall to call Draco a flaming poof and a cocksucker, Draco transfigures him into a walrus. He ends up in detention with Hagrid that night, but feels that, all in all, seeing Macmillian with tusks was worth it. Hagrid makes him plant leprechaun gold in the garden for Nifflers to find in tomorrow’s Fourth Year Care of Magical Creatures class. It’s boring and difficult, because Hagrid has confiscated his wand and he complains to himself the whole time.
Halfway through his task, someone hits him from behind with a sleeping spell.
When he wakes up, he is tied to the tallest Quidditch goal post and stark naked. Draco is tied so tightly to the post every time he moves the ropes chafe him badly. He is shivering from the cold and he can tell by the night sky that it is just a little past midnight. The hours creep by at a snail’s pace and Draco’s balls attempt to crawl back inside him it is so chilly. His toes have turned blue and even imagining ways to torture his cowardly attackers can’t distract him from the fact he is absolutely humiliated.
When dawn’s first rays of light make the line of the horizon glow, Draco suddenly notices that someone has joined him. As the figure draws closer, he bites his lips nervously, hoping whoever it is will let themselves be sworn to secrecy. When he sees that is Harry Potter, Firebolt in tow, he groans out loud and wishes he could die on the spot. Banging his head against the post behind him only give him a headache, so he stops and watches resignedly as the other boy approaches him. Potter takes one look at the trussed up Slytherin and starts laughing so hard he cries, collapsing to the ground to guffaw loudly.
Draco curses him virulently and Potter’s laughs subside into mean little chuckles. When Draco demands that Potter untie him immediately, the Gryffindor gets a speculative look in his eye that bodes ill for the chilled blond. Potter refuses, smirking like a Slytherin, and warns Draco that unless he has something interesting to offer him he will go up to the Tower and wake his friends to see this for themselves. Humiliation makes his cheeks burn and tears prick his eyes. Seething, Draco offers one thing after another, but none of them satisfy the Gryffindor. Not money. Not help with his Potions homework. Not even a peek at Slytherin’s Quidditch plays.
Finally, desperate and freezing, Draco offers a blowjob.
This Potter accepts with relish.
He unties Draco, careless of how the ropes leave marks against the Slytherin’s pale skin as they unwind, and nods towards the Gryffindor locker rooms. Once he is blessedly free, Draco sneers at him and turns to leave, but Potter is not in the mood to tolerate his attempts to go back on his promise. He drags Draco into the locker room forcefully, knocking him to his knees, and opens his pants to take out his cock. The messy, wet head prods at Draco’s lips for an instant before the Slytherin opens his mouth to accept the other boy’s cock.
Involuntarily, his lashes flutter close as the taste of Potter’s precome soaks into his tongue. It’s as good as last time, better even, because now Draco is sober so he can take in every little detail and the situation is completely out of his control. Everything is Potter’s fault at the moment and that’s the way Draco likes it. Potter’s hands tug firmly at his head as he fucks the Slytherin’s mouth, his cock thrusting in and out, bruising Draco’s lips in a way that makes the blond’s cock start to rise. Sucking greedily at the offering, Draco twines his tongue around and over and against it, writing worshipful odes into Potter’s sensitive flesh.
His tongue lies heavy against the vein at the bottom of the other boy’s cock for a while, surging against it demandingly. Draco sucks cock like a starving man eats, hungry and desperate, needy in a way that makes him whine and whimper breathlessly. Potter’s hips shift with restless arousal, driving his cock into Draco’s mouth in even, hard strokes. His hands are buried in Draco’s hair, pulling him forward to take his cock deeper each time he thrusts inside his mouth, but Draco likes the rough handling. It makes his own desire sharper and the forceful tugs remind Draco that he is free to enjoy this as much as he wants because Potter is the one who asked for it and Draco is merely paying for his silence.
Soon Potter is gasping his release, flooding Draco’s mouth with so much come he has a hard time swallowing it all. A bit escapes from the sides of his mouth, but before he can wipe them away Potter is leaning forward to lick at the liquid trails on his chin. Draco is still hard and, as Potter kisses him, he presses against him eagerly, rubbing up against the other boy’s trim body like a cat in heat in an attempt to get himself off. But Potter is a generous winner and when he leans down to suck Draco’s cock the Slytherin has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in surprise.
It feels good. Wet and wonderful, with Potter’s tongue prodding at the head of his cock in a way that makes him squirm delightedly. He throws back his head and closes his eyes, giving himself up to Potter without another thought. When a finger rubs at his entrance, he spreads his thighs instinctively, gasping when Potter slides it inside him and crooks it just so. It feels as if he is being electrocuted by lightening, like a shocking charm gone wrong, and Draco writhes against the cool tile floor, rocking between Potter’s finger and his mouth, shameless in his desire.
Potter moves back and Draco complains wordlessly, arching up and spreading his thighs wider, begging for it. Begging silently for anything at all and Potter gasps at the sight, scrambling over to open his locker and grab a small bottle of hand lotion. Then his finger is back, slick and sliding inside him so perfectly, followed by another and then another until Draco’s eyes are rolling back in his head and his body is humming with pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. Potter removes his fingers hurriedly, slicking his erection with lotion, and then he pushes into Draco carefully, easing his cock inside the Slytherin’s ass.
It stretches him almost painfully, but it feels good too and Draco finds himself impaled and invaded and for just one terror filled moment he is panicked, trying to wrench away despite the discomfort he his causing himself. He is afraid, but Potter’s arms around him are comforting and the other boy’s warm, gentle voice is soothing and he slowly starts to relax as Potter strokes his chest and gentles him the way a seasoned rider gentles a shying horse.
When Potter takes his mouth in a slow, leisurely kiss it feels like coming home. Draco gasps when he starts to move, his hands scrabbling against the tile floor even as his tongue duels Potter’s and he lifts his hips up better take his cock. Again and again he thrusts, splitting Draco open and filling him up to the brim, until Draco feels so much he expects that any moment all his emotions will overflow and spill out. But they don’t.
Draco orgasms silently, his mouth open and dry, but the best part is lying boneless under Potter while his cock moves in and out of him easily. Hard, hard erection rocking back and forth, the slap of his balls against Draco’s ass, the smooth rub of Potter’s clothed chest against his own bare skin; it’s nice to concentrate on these sensations, which are only amplified by the warmth of afterglow. Then Potter comes, his jaw clenching, moving in Draco until the last pulse.
When he pulls out, it feels strange and it brings Draco to his senses.
He showers silently, ignoring Potter who shoots him worried looks as he fixes his Quidditch uniform and cleans up their mess from the tiles. When he tries to start a conversation, Draco brushes past him and unlocks some hapless Gryffindor’s locker, taking out an extra change of clothes and shrugging into them carelessly. He leaves without even a backwards glance and doesn’t bother to respond when Potter calls his name as he steps off the Quidditch pitch. His body is still singing, but his mind is dark with self-recrimination and disgust.
He avoids Potter relentlessly for the next three days and, oddly enough, finds himself writing to his mother. The letter is written with uncharacteristic sloppiness and Draco mails it before the ink is even dry by way of his eagle owl. The next day at breakfast he receives her reply. He feeds his eagle owl and takes the letter, leaving his breakfast practically untouched as he exits the Great Hall.
The letter is short and to the point. Narcissa wants him to do what makes him happy, even if that involves screwing Harry Potter. Her words are not as coarse as all that though, but the meaning is obvious and Draco remembers her strange lectures and decides that she understands him better than he understands himself. He has her tacit permission, and it eases something tight inside him. He has stopped trying to gain his father’s approval, but Snape’s unsettling walking stick story is more than enough proof that Draco will not be the first Malfoy to seek pleasure with his own sex. He has his own hang-ups to get through though, and he spends the rest of the week in a haze. He puts in a few hours brooding in front of the common room fire and even more flying around on his broomstick, his gaze turned inward during his meditations.
Finally, on Saturday Draco decides to put an end to his dithering. He corners a first year Gryffindor and bullies her into giving Harry Potter a message, then threatens her with bodily harm to ensure she memorizes it word for word. He asks, or rather demands, Potter to come to Draco’s room at dinner time so they can discuss the situation. He doesn’t give directions. Potter is incredibly resourceful and Draco has always had a habit of testing people.
Draco spends the rest of the day fretting and tidying up his room, arranging and rearranging it until he is finally satisfied with his own efforts. His best black silk sheets go on his bed and a few candles are placed around his bed. It’s easy to find a bottle or two of Firewhiskey, the remnants of the infamous Slytherin party, and the house elves are more than happy to provide Draco with a private dinner for two and set it up in his sitting room.
He bathes in the prefect’s bathroom and prepares himself carefully with oil, because he already knows where this little meeting is headed and he is not one to waste time. Draco dresses in a thin robe made of samite, and he does not bother to wear anything underneath it. He doesn’t bother with shoes either, he dislikes them, and he has a feeling that Potter would look askance at the sandals he sometimes wears during the summer, which lace up to his calf and look rather archaic. His hair he leaves severely alone and it curls damply around his ears and falls into his eyes in cornsilk corkscrews. Draco hates his unruly curls and usually slicks them back, but he has a sneaking suspicion Potter rather likes his hair in its natural state.
The rest of his time is spent pacing back and forth nervously, running his hands through his hair and straightening his expensive robes, even though they are tailored so well there is no need for it. Before he can drive himself insane with his own worrying, someone knocks purposefully at his door. Draco takes one last look at himself in the mirror, ignoring it’s compliments in order to fuss slightly with a curl that keeps falling in his eyes, before rushing to the door.
Potter is wearing his school robes, though his Gryffindor tie is slightly askew, and his eyes widen slightly at Draco’s appearance. They make rather uncomfortable small talk and Draco directs him to the table the house elves set up for them earlier. They eat the provided meal quietly, Potter casting curious looks Draco’s way every now and then. Finally, when they’re both finished, Potter pushes his plate away and demands an explanation.
When Draco tells him exactly what he wants from Potter, the other boy actually blushes, his eyes widening behind his trademark spectacles at Draco’s frank (and rather vulgar) response.
Seducing the Boy Who Lived is remarkably easy and Draco leads him into the bedroom, shooting him smoldering looks over his shoulder. He shrugs his robes off and stands naked in front of the other boy, stretching back on his bed and beckoning Potter closer with a beguiling smile and lustful eyes. Potter strips hurriedly, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get out of his trousers, which makes Draco snicker. When the Gryffindor lunges at him and takes his breath away with a crushing kiss, Draco completely forgets about things like snickering and concentrates on things like eagerly lifting his hips up at just the right angle to let Potter’s erection slide right inside him. It startles the Gryffindor slightly, but Potter has always been a quick study and as soon as he plants his knees firmly on the bed he begins fucking Draco at a steady pace.
Potter’s free hand finds Draco’s sensitive pink nipples and he tugs on the rings that pierce them mercilessly, pulling and plucking them until Draco is gasping for breath and teetering on the edge of orgasm. Draco’s long legs are wrapped tightly around Potter’s slim waist, one hand buried in the wild mess of the Gryffindor’s hair and his other clutching the headboard of the bed tightly in one sweaty fist. The excruciatingly pleasurable way Potter’s cock is pounding inside him leaves him in a euphoric state. When Potter bends his head to suck at Draco’s adam’s apple, the Slytherin discovers, to his surprise, that he is a screamer. His nails dig into the back of Potter’s muscular arms as they fuck wildly and without restraint. It feels as if Potter is trying to climb inside him he is thrusting so hard, his hips battering Draco’s arse and his cock brushing up against his prostate on every other stroke.
Finally, with one last shout, Draco shudders helplessly in Potter’s grasp.
Potter doesn’t even bother to slow down, his brow furrowed with concentration and his face flushed as he pushes his hips forward again and again. Draco mewls and moans under him, shuddering when the other boy hits his prostate. Finally Potter groans helplessly and comes, his eyes shut tightly and his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth. When the Gryffindor collapses next to Draco, this time the Slytherin doesn’t run away.
They talk quietly together long into the night, a long meandering dialogue that reveals more than Draco feels comfortable with at first. But Potter reveals his own secrets and the trust he puts in Draco makes the Slytherin glow warmly with gratitude. Somehow, it evolves into kissing. Their mouths and tongues move together for some time, slick and yielding as they invade and are invaded in turn. Draco’s hands explore Potter’s body, mapping the ridges of his ribs and the knobs of his spine. His fingers smooth the other boy’s collar bones and Draco purrs with pleasure when Potter drags his hands down his body to knead the back of his thighs and cup his arse.
Eventually, after a delightful hour or so of foreplay, Draco finds himself braced over Potter, his pale cheek sliding against the Gryffindor’s as he eases his erection inside the other boy. It’s tighter than he expects and so very hot. Potter twists underneath him, moaning softly, and Draco fists his hands into his silk sheets as he pumps in and out of Potter, his mouth hanging open as he pants helplessly for breath. He doesn’t make much noise, because it’s too perfect and far too raw. Draco suspects that if any sound escapes his lips the image in front of him will shatter, so he is as quiet can be. Every moan he stifles vibrates in his chest. Potter cries out underneath him, come splattering on their bodies in long, pearly strings.
When Draco orgasms, he feels as though he is falling apart, but Potter carefully puts him back together again with gentle words and gentler hands.
When they can no longer ignore the way the sheets are stuck to their skin, they sneak into the prefects bathroom to bathe together. It is oddly easy to push the Gryffindor around and tease him, splashing him with water in order to keep his attention focused where it should be - on Draco. Potter calls him by his first name, grinning shyly at his own daring, and Draco returns the favor.
They wash together and afterwards Draco finds himself bent over Harry’s lap, sucking blissfully on the other boy’s cock and moaning around his aroused flesh. Harry is making helpless little sounds in the back of his throat, which only makes the whole ordeal hotter, and Draco loses himself in the feel and taste of going down on him. Even the musky smell enthralls him, and he mouths Harry’s balls reverently, always returning to ply his lips and tongue on the head of Harry’s flushed and dripping cock. Harry starts to talk, the words seemingly ripped right from his gut. His babbling is a mix of praise and vulgarity so hot Draco starts to jerk himself off. Harry talks about how he adores Draco’s clever mouth and wants to spend all of his time thrusting into it, nestled there for the rest of eternity.
Draco finds the idea endlessly appealing, if a bit impractical.
Harry grabs the back of Draco’s head and arches his hips forward, coming so hard his toes curl and even as his come floods Draco’s mouth the Slytherin shivers violently and spills over his own fist.
Panting, they tumble to the cold tiles and lay there for a long moment, before Harry starts to giggle and Draco joins him, the sound of their laughter bouncing off the walls and blending into a merry harmony. Draco giggles one last time and sighs, curling around Harry who is more than happy to tuck the pale boy up against his side. Their tangle of warm, damp boy-flesh keeps them both warm in the steamy bathroom.
Draco may have a Problem, but somehow it fits perfectly with Harry’s to form something that’s surprisingly appealing. Their Problems are like two halves of one whole, each useless without the other.
Besides, Draco would rather have a Problem like Harry, than no Problem at all.
END
ETA: Oh, I gave Draco curly hair because a) I can see him as a little boy with long, golden curls. Can't you? and b) because I figure if he hates his curls that would explain why he constantly slicks his hair back. I was sort of pondering Spike/James Marsters' hair because really, if it wasn't for seasons 5,6, and 7 I never would have realized his hair was curly and c) I do so love curly hair.
And I really won't mind if you click on the link and you just happen to be a little under seventeen, but I swear if you're related to me you don't want to read that. Seriously. I'm talking to you mom.