Cactus Angels (1-3)
For those who have never seen this, it is called Cactus Angels and it is one of my more popular fics. It is slash, it has kink to spare, and yes, it has so much sex you may get fed up with it by the end of it.
The reaction I have gotten from this has always been pretty positive. There have been a few people who... freaked out. Not my problem. This story deals with S&M and it is highly erotic. If you don't like, don't read. If you read and you don't like and feel that you absolutely must say something, please try to keep it constructive, or at least coherent. "You're fucking sick" does not count, in case you're wondering. Like I need some asshole stranger to tell me that.
Also, I have received criticism of my portrayal of Harry Potter in this story--specifically his severe masochism. People seem to think it's unrealistic. I am telling you now that it is not. There are masochists that react like this, and whether you like it or not, I know what I am talking about. They are not common, but they do exist.
Title: Cactus Angels
Pairing: H/D
Rating: Strong NC-17
Warnings: slash, S&M, knife-play, graphic sex; anal and oral. I'm sure I am forgetting a few things. Anyway, you get the idea. If this isn't your cup of tea, move on.
Note: Once you get to the end (part 20), parts 21 and 22 can be found if you scroll down. I posted them earlier this week. AU as of HBP, so pretend that for Harry's sixth year no one tried to kill him or take over the world. This is still a WIP so it is un-beta'd.
Part I
Draco glared across the table at Potter, his patented smirk faltering just a little as the words ‘Death Eater’ passed those pretty lips for what felt like the millionth time. It wasn’t the name so much that bothered him anymore. Being called a Death Eater by the Prat Who Lived had long become an everyday occurrence.
The taunt barely gave him pause, but the insufferably smug look on Weasley’s face as he sat there calmly buttering his toast made Draco want to immediately hex his dick to the size of a cocktail weenie. The urge to do so became nearly irresistible when Granger came into the hall, paused to survey the situation-Harry and Draco both standing on opposite sides of the Gryffindore table, tense and glaring daggers at each other-then sighed and decided to ignore the situation entirely. Something undoubtedly made easier by the fact that the two boys had yet to draw their wands on each other.
“What’s wrong, Malfoy?” Harry asked, laying his palms flat on the table and leaning closer in what Draco could only assume he believed to be a menacing manner. “No snappy come-backs? Rather hard to argue with that, seeing as how your dear daddy’s been locked up for that very thing, isn’t it?”
Draco’s eyes went cold as ice at the mere mention of his father. His fists clenched in rage at Potter’s patronizing use of the word ‘daddy’. His voice when he spoke was calm, though his fingers were itching to reach for his wand and blast the Boy Who Lived to Drive Him Batshit through the nearest wall. “Really, Potter. ‘Death Eater’? Aren’t you getting tired of that yet?”
“Whatever works, Malfoy.”
“Oh please, Potter,” Draco said. “That hasn’t even made me twitch in over a month.”
Harry gave a pointed look to Draco’s clenched hands and lifted a dark brow. “A month? Are you sure? You’re looking a bit twitchy all of a sudden, Malfoy.”
Draco stared across the table directly into those vibrant green eyes and for the first time, saw real amusement there. The bastard was enjoying this. He smiled, actually smiled, as a deliciously wicked little thought flitted through his brain.
Before he could think about it and give himself time to hesitate or reconsider, his arm shot across the table and twisted in Potter’s sleep-rumpled black hair. Draco jerked Harry’s head forward and crushed his mouth down on his.
Harry went still in shock and tried to pull away, but Draco tightened his grip mercilessly and bit his bottom lip until, with an outraged gasp, Potter opened his mouth.
Distantly, he knew that both Snape and McGonagall had leapt to their feet at the staff table, that Hermione had drawn her wand, and Weasley had dropped his toast. He knew that the entire hall was stunned and scandalized as he snogged the living daylights out of Harry bloody Potter, but suddenly he didn’t give half a shit.
It’s was hard to really give half a shit when Potter was suddenly, and quite skillfully, kissing him right back. Their tongues twined, like two rival serpents doing battle-or trying to mate-and Draco felt like all of his breath and all of his blood was being sucked out through his mouth.
He pulled Harry’s head back with the hand tangled in his hair, shoved him away from him, and put the back of his hand to his mouth. He was panting. What the hell was wrong with him? This was Potter, for fuck’s sake.
Harry reached across the table and snatched the front of Draco’s shirt in his hand. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he growled.
Draco pushed at his hand, and when he didn’t let go, he grabbed one of Potter’s fingers and twisted it. With a hiss of pain, Harry released him.
That got him poked in the shoulder by Granger’s ready wand, but he chose to ignore her. He leaned across the table until he could feel Harry’s breath on his face. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Potter?” he whispered. “I’m trying to drive you mad.” He cast a quick glance down to Harry’s lap and grinned. “And from the looks of things, I’d say I’m succeeding.”
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” snapped McGonagall from behind Draco’s shoulder. “Both of you take your seats this instant or you will have detention.”
Draco stepped back from the Gryffindore table. It pleased him to no end to see the look of utter devastation and outrage on the face of most of Potter’s housemates. Especially the weasel. Oh yes, that was definitely worth it.
He grinned at Harry and gave him a saucy wink before turning and marching across the hall to his own table.
He had a moment of uncertainty as he settled into his seat between Blaise and Vincent and noted their blank faces. Then Blaise smiled and took a bite of his roll. “So, was he any good?” he asked.
Draco took an apple from the fruit plate at the center of the table and took a bite. He chewed it and swallowed before he answered. “Fucking unbelievable,” he said, and the table erupted in laughter.
Part II
“I don’t know what on earth you could have possibly been thinking,” Snape snarled at him.
Draco simply watched him pace back and forth in front of his desk, one hip insolently resting on one of the work-station tables. Snape was in a near froth over what had happened in the Great Hall at breakfast.
“Potter, of all people,” Snape continued without pause, “Potter, I ask you? What do you think you were doing?”
“Kissing Potter,” Draco said in a board voice.
“Kissing Potter,” Snape hissed scornfully. “Kissing Potter. Are you absolutely daft?”
This sounded like a redundant question to Darco, so he just lifted a brow and watched Snape with mild interest. The man needed to get laid, and badly. Draco would have offered to help him out himself-all that pent-up rage had to be good for something-but he was almost dead positive that Snape was deplorably heterosexual. Pity that, really.
“If it were within my power, I would have you in detention every day for the next month,” Snape told him. “Sadly, I am not permitted to issue detentions for this kind of behavior. The Headmaster insists that it harms no one. I personally beg to differ, but apparently the possible detrimental effects on my sanity do not count.”
Draco grinned. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said.
Snape glowered at him. “Get out of my sight, Mr. Malfoy. And if you must go about kissing Potter, do try to control yourself in public. Especially if I happen to be present.”
“Yes sir,” Draco said, and quickly left before he started to laugh.
He was walking down the hall, all in all, feeling pretty damn good about himself and the world in general, when he was roughly pulled into a niche in the wall behind a tapestry of a wizard fighting a dragon. Looked like the wizard was losing today too, he noticed absentmindedly before he was slammed into a wall by non other than the witless wonder, Potter himself.
The moment Draco recognized who it was, he struck out, catching the idiot a good one on the point of his chin. Harry staggered back and Draco brushed his robes neatly back into order like nothing at all had happened.
“What the bloody hell was that for?” Harry demanded rubbing his chin and trying to get his eyes to focus.
Draco glanced at him and quirked a brow. “For mussing my clothes, you fucking twit,” he said. “Potter, we have got to quit meeting like this. I’m going to have to start charging you for wasting my time.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he straightened his glasses. “I guess all the little rumors were wrong about you then,” he said.
“How’s that?” Draco asked.
“I heard you get around. I didn’t hear that you got paid for it.”
Draco blinked. Had Saint Potter just called him a whore?
“But then, that must be a step up,” Harry continued, ignoring the angry look Draco was giving him. “I mean, getting paid for it has to better than not getting paid for it, right?”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to pick another fight with me, Potter, or if you’re trying to proposition me,” Draco said.
He watched, a little fascinated, as Potter blushed and looked down at his feet. “Look, I just wanted to know what was going on …in there …at breakfast. I …well, I don’t usually get snogged for calling people Death Eaters.”
Draco smirked. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“Well?”
“Well what? Why did I kiss you?” Draco thought about his answer for a moment and finally said, “Moment of insanity.”
“Oh,” Harry said.
Draco sighed. “It’s called lust, Golden Boy, surely even you have heard of it?”
“Er-what?”
Potter blinked those big guileless green eyes at him and Draco had to grit his teeth and look away. Those innocent eyes were enough to make the most holy angel think about wanton things that were best done with the lights out.
Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to meet those eyes. He moved to press himself just a little against Harry’s body, enough to feel his body heat and make Harry aware of him, but not enough for anything else. “Potter, don’t tempt me, or I’ll make you my bitch,” he whispered, his breath washing over Harry’s lips teasingly.
Harry’s pretty green eyes widened in surprise and Draco stepped back. That damnable innocence made Draco want more than anything to be the one to corrupt him. He wanted to push him down on the floor right there and fuck him until his eyes were brimming with carnal knowledge.
He didn’t, of course. Instead, he said, “You should be more careful who you go pulling into dark corners, Potter. Every once in a while, the rumors are true.”
He slipped out from behind the tapestry and quickly left without seeing Potter’s expression. It would have been priceless, no doubt of that, but he didn’t quite trust himself at the moment.
Part III
Draco could feel Harry Potter watching him. He was accustomed to being watched and stared at, but not by Potter. It was making him twitchy.
It made him feel a little better to know that he was having relatively the same affect on Potter, to a much higher, and far more entertaining, degree. And he was doing it by simply being there.
In Transfiguration, he walked by Harry and Weasley and the crystal goblet that Potter was supposed to be turning into a bird shattered half way through its transformation, splattering the area around him with transparent feathers and goo.
The next day in Potions, Draco was chopping daisy roots, completely engrossed in the progress of his shrinking potion, which was coming along quite nicely, when he was hit in the face by the strong odor of flowers and looked up.
“Potter, what is this supposed to be?” Snape demanded, standing over Harry and glaring into his cauldron.
He had somehow accidentally given his shrinking potion the color and consistency of bad porridge. As Draco watched, the pot bubbled and made a farting noise, releasing puffs of pink, perfume-scented vapor.
Snape was so angry, he looked like he was ready to pop a vessel. With a few more snide comments about Harry’s inattention and stupidity, he gave him a week of detentions and a failing grade for the day. When he stalked by Draco’s work station, Draco couldn’t help noticing that Snape looked positively cheery at being handed such a good excuse to torment Potter. Twisted though it was, Snape had a very healthy sense of retribution, and undoubtedly considered his punishment to be well justified-for more than one reason.
Draco looked at Harry across the room and their eyes locked. Harry blushed in that fetching way he had and quickly looked away.
Blaise, Vincent, and Gregory all snickered and Blaise prodded Draco with his elbow, trying to share the joke. Draco smiled faintly and went back to his potion, trying to put Potter and his charming little blush out of his mind.
It went like that for the rest of the week. Draco couldn’t be in the same room with the git for ten minutes at a time without something disastrous happening.
For Draco, the last straw came eight days after he made the abysmal mistake of kissing Potter at breakfast.
They had a Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Gryffindor was eighty points ahead and the Snitch was nowhere in sight.
Draco circled the pitch again, his eyes darting through the air in search of the little gold ball. He ducked as a Bludger shot toward him, barely missing his head, and stuck his middle finger up at the Gryffindor Beater who had hit it at him, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
Luna Lovegood was commentating again, and she shifted her attention from describing the shapes of the clouds and the lovely blue color of the sky just long enough to remark on how really dashing he looked on his broom nearly getting clobbered. He didn’t even bother to suppress his grin of amusement when Luna stated serenely, “…and it looks like Harry Potter quite agrees with me.”
The Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students all cheered, whistled and cat-called at this. The Gryffindors, of course, did not. They had no sense of humor whatsoever when it came to their boy hero. It probably didn’t help matters much that it seemed to be true as well. Draco snuck a peek at Potter and thought he caught him checking out his ass before Potter became aware of it and hastily looked away.
Draco winked at Luna as he flew past the commentator’s podium and she waved at him absentmindedly before returning her attention to the sky. “It’s really nice weather we’re having today. Perfect time of year for sighting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.”
Draco snickered and went back to looking for the Snitch. Then he saw it, hovering just inches in front of Harry Potter’s nose. He held his breath, sure that Potter would see it and grab it. Potter had to fucking see it, it was right there!
Harry didn’t move, he was gazing off into the distance with a blank, dreamy expression on his face.
Draco shot toward him and snatched the thing, literally, right out from under his nose. He was tempted to knock the silly ass off his broom in the process, but managed somehow to control the urge.
He landed on the grass in the middle of a crowd of his housemates, all ready to congratulate him on his victory and parade him around on their shoulders. But that would have to wait. He angrily pushed away the first hands to reach for him and the rest of them quickly caught on and backed off.
Draco threw his broom to Vincent, who caught it and twirled it in his hand like a baton before putting it over his shoulder and following him.
Blaise fell into stride beside him as Draco stalked across the grass toward the Gryffindors. “Alright, Draco?” he asked.
“It fucking will be in a second,” Draco said.
He walked right up to Potter, who was getting reassuring claps on the back from his friends, and poked him in the chest with one finger forcefully enough to make Harry take a surprised step back. “What the devil is wrong with you, Potter?” Draco snarled into his face.
Harry nervously looked to the left and right to make sure that he had not been abandoned by his little followers. Granger and Weasley were right there as always, and he seemed to relax.
“What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?” Weasley snapped. “You just won. What are you getting your panties in a twist for?”
Draco shifted his eyes to Ron for a second and lifted one pale eyebrow at him. “I’ll thank you to keep your mind off of my underwear, weasel,” he said.
Behind him, the Slytherins all laughed.
Ron flushed and muttered something under his breath about ferrets.
“Draco-” Harry began.
Draco glared at him. “I don’t believe I’ve given you permission to use my name, Potter.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I-well, I just-”
“Listen, you closet fairy,” Draco snarled, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you can knock it off right fucking now, understand?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably and forced himself to meet Draco’s eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re so pissed off about,” he said. “Ron’s right, you did win. But you’re acting like I cheated you.”
“You did cheat me, Potter,” Draco said, poking him in the chest again with his finger.
Harry suddenly looked angry himself. He smacked Draco’s hand away and glared at him. “I got distracted.”
“Yeah,” Draco sneered. “Daydreaming about my ass instead of paying attention.”
Harry flushed bright pink and worried his bottom lip nervously. Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins thought this was hilarious. Draco thought it was sexy as hell, but he was still mad and far from finished making Harry squirm.
“You really want to know why I’m pissed off, Potter?” Draco asked.
Harry looked at him uncertainly, like he really didn’t think he wanted to know that badly-or at least not in front of their current audience.
“Let me enlighten you,” Draco said, lowering his voice slightly. It would carry, but only to those closest to them. He wanted to embarrass the boy, but he didn’t want to have to bring out the smelling salts to revive him afterwards. “I’m pissed off that you could have caught the fucking Snitch in your teeth if you’d been paying attention instead of ogling my ass,” Draco growled. “I’m pissed off that every time I turn around, I catch you feeling me up with your eyes. But most of all, I’m pissed off that I can’t even walk down the hall or into a room without you blowing something up. If I wanted my own little pet stalker, Potter, I’d go out and buy one.”
During this little speech, Draco had watched Potter go through almost every color of the rainbow, but as he said this last, Harry went a sickly white color and looked like he was going to be sick. Maybe he was going to need those smelling salts after all, Draco mused.
“What’s he talking about, Harry?” Ron asked. Hermione just stood there glaring. She was a smart girl, she knew what he was talking about.
“Weren’t you listening to the commentary, weasel?” Blaise drawled.
Ron just blinked and looked confused. “Yeah? What about it?”
“Oh, look at that,” Blaise said, doing an uncanny impression of Luna Lovegood, “Draco Malfoy almost got clobbered by that bludger hit by that big ugly Gryffindor. I don’t remember his name …Peirce …Picket …something like that. My, doesn’t Draco just look dashing? And it looks like Harry Potter quite agrees with me.”
The Slytherins all laughed and snorted. Even Draco’s lips twitched a little.
Weasley had completely bypassed Potter’s sickly white color in favor of a very interesting shade of green. Hermione’s eyes were flashing angrily, but she had yet to draw her wand, so Draco wasn’t too fussed about her.
“Smart girl, our little Miss Lovegood,” Gregory said on the other side of Draco.
“I thought she was just …being …well, Luna,” Ron stuttered.
“You mean Looney, don’t you, weasel?” Draco said.
“Er-yeah …yeah, I guess,” Weasley said. “Harry, you’re not really …?”
“As gay as gay can be,” Blaise confirmed.
Harry was staring off over their heads with his jaw firmly clenched. When Ron prodded him to get his attention, he turned his head to look at him, sparing a resentful glare for Draco as he did.
“Harry, is that true?” Weasley asked. “Are you …?”
Potter closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Ron still looked anxious. “But … with Malfoy?”
“What? No!” Harry said forcefully. He glared again at Draco, who merely shrugged and looked pleased with himself. “No,” he said again.
Weasley seemed to relax a little.
“Don’t lie, Potter,” Draco whispered, leaning close. “You want it and you know it. You don’t have to lie. It would be nice though, if you could stop being so goddamn obvious about it.”
Harry swallowed and leaned away from him. “Look, I’m sorry about the game, alright?” he said. “I didn’t mean to throw it, I just-Just leave me alone, Malfoy, okay?”
He turned to leave and came up short when Draco grabbed his sleeve. Draco grinned and bent his head close to Potter’s ear to whisper, “You don’t really want me to leave you alone, do you Potter?”
Harry shivered and wrenched his arm free. “Yes I do,” he said, and stalked off of the pitch with his two friends close behind him and Slytherin laughter ringing in his ears.
Next>>
The reaction I have gotten from this has always been pretty positive. There have been a few people who... freaked out. Not my problem. This story deals with S&M and it is highly erotic. If you don't like, don't read. If you read and you don't like and feel that you absolutely must say something, please try to keep it constructive, or at least coherent. "You're fucking sick" does not count, in case you're wondering. Like I need some asshole stranger to tell me that.
Also, I have received criticism of my portrayal of Harry Potter in this story--specifically his severe masochism. People seem to think it's unrealistic. I am telling you now that it is not. There are masochists that react like this, and whether you like it or not, I know what I am talking about. They are not common, but they do exist.
Title: Cactus Angels
Pairing: H/D
Rating: Strong NC-17
Warnings: slash, S&M, knife-play, graphic sex; anal and oral. I'm sure I am forgetting a few things. Anyway, you get the idea. If this isn't your cup of tea, move on.
Note: Once you get to the end (part 20), parts 21 and 22 can be found if you scroll down. I posted them earlier this week. AU as of HBP, so pretend that for Harry's sixth year no one tried to kill him or take over the world. This is still a WIP so it is un-beta'd.
Part I
Draco glared across the table at Potter, his patented smirk faltering just a little as the words ‘Death Eater’ passed those pretty lips for what felt like the millionth time. It wasn’t the name so much that bothered him anymore. Being called a Death Eater by the Prat Who Lived had long become an everyday occurrence.
The taunt barely gave him pause, but the insufferably smug look on Weasley’s face as he sat there calmly buttering his toast made Draco want to immediately hex his dick to the size of a cocktail weenie. The urge to do so became nearly irresistible when Granger came into the hall, paused to survey the situation-Harry and Draco both standing on opposite sides of the Gryffindore table, tense and glaring daggers at each other-then sighed and decided to ignore the situation entirely. Something undoubtedly made easier by the fact that the two boys had yet to draw their wands on each other.
“What’s wrong, Malfoy?” Harry asked, laying his palms flat on the table and leaning closer in what Draco could only assume he believed to be a menacing manner. “No snappy come-backs? Rather hard to argue with that, seeing as how your dear daddy’s been locked up for that very thing, isn’t it?”
Draco’s eyes went cold as ice at the mere mention of his father. His fists clenched in rage at Potter’s patronizing use of the word ‘daddy’. His voice when he spoke was calm, though his fingers were itching to reach for his wand and blast the Boy Who Lived to Drive Him Batshit through the nearest wall. “Really, Potter. ‘Death Eater’? Aren’t you getting tired of that yet?”
“Whatever works, Malfoy.”
“Oh please, Potter,” Draco said. “That hasn’t even made me twitch in over a month.”
Harry gave a pointed look to Draco’s clenched hands and lifted a dark brow. “A month? Are you sure? You’re looking a bit twitchy all of a sudden, Malfoy.”
Draco stared across the table directly into those vibrant green eyes and for the first time, saw real amusement there. The bastard was enjoying this. He smiled, actually smiled, as a deliciously wicked little thought flitted through his brain.
Before he could think about it and give himself time to hesitate or reconsider, his arm shot across the table and twisted in Potter’s sleep-rumpled black hair. Draco jerked Harry’s head forward and crushed his mouth down on his.
Harry went still in shock and tried to pull away, but Draco tightened his grip mercilessly and bit his bottom lip until, with an outraged gasp, Potter opened his mouth.
Distantly, he knew that both Snape and McGonagall had leapt to their feet at the staff table, that Hermione had drawn her wand, and Weasley had dropped his toast. He knew that the entire hall was stunned and scandalized as he snogged the living daylights out of Harry bloody Potter, but suddenly he didn’t give half a shit.
It’s was hard to really give half a shit when Potter was suddenly, and quite skillfully, kissing him right back. Their tongues twined, like two rival serpents doing battle-or trying to mate-and Draco felt like all of his breath and all of his blood was being sucked out through his mouth.
He pulled Harry’s head back with the hand tangled in his hair, shoved him away from him, and put the back of his hand to his mouth. He was panting. What the hell was wrong with him? This was Potter, for fuck’s sake.
Harry reached across the table and snatched the front of Draco’s shirt in his hand. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he growled.
Draco pushed at his hand, and when he didn’t let go, he grabbed one of Potter’s fingers and twisted it. With a hiss of pain, Harry released him.
That got him poked in the shoulder by Granger’s ready wand, but he chose to ignore her. He leaned across the table until he could feel Harry’s breath on his face. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Potter?” he whispered. “I’m trying to drive you mad.” He cast a quick glance down to Harry’s lap and grinned. “And from the looks of things, I’d say I’m succeeding.”
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” snapped McGonagall from behind Draco’s shoulder. “Both of you take your seats this instant or you will have detention.”
Draco stepped back from the Gryffindore table. It pleased him to no end to see the look of utter devastation and outrage on the face of most of Potter’s housemates. Especially the weasel. Oh yes, that was definitely worth it.
He grinned at Harry and gave him a saucy wink before turning and marching across the hall to his own table.
He had a moment of uncertainty as he settled into his seat between Blaise and Vincent and noted their blank faces. Then Blaise smiled and took a bite of his roll. “So, was he any good?” he asked.
Draco took an apple from the fruit plate at the center of the table and took a bite. He chewed it and swallowed before he answered. “Fucking unbelievable,” he said, and the table erupted in laughter.
Part II
“I don’t know what on earth you could have possibly been thinking,” Snape snarled at him.
Draco simply watched him pace back and forth in front of his desk, one hip insolently resting on one of the work-station tables. Snape was in a near froth over what had happened in the Great Hall at breakfast.
“Potter, of all people,” Snape continued without pause, “Potter, I ask you? What do you think you were doing?”
“Kissing Potter,” Draco said in a board voice.
“Kissing Potter,” Snape hissed scornfully. “Kissing Potter. Are you absolutely daft?”
This sounded like a redundant question to Darco, so he just lifted a brow and watched Snape with mild interest. The man needed to get laid, and badly. Draco would have offered to help him out himself-all that pent-up rage had to be good for something-but he was almost dead positive that Snape was deplorably heterosexual. Pity that, really.
“If it were within my power, I would have you in detention every day for the next month,” Snape told him. “Sadly, I am not permitted to issue detentions for this kind of behavior. The Headmaster insists that it harms no one. I personally beg to differ, but apparently the possible detrimental effects on my sanity do not count.”
Draco grinned. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said.
Snape glowered at him. “Get out of my sight, Mr. Malfoy. And if you must go about kissing Potter, do try to control yourself in public. Especially if I happen to be present.”
“Yes sir,” Draco said, and quickly left before he started to laugh.
He was walking down the hall, all in all, feeling pretty damn good about himself and the world in general, when he was roughly pulled into a niche in the wall behind a tapestry of a wizard fighting a dragon. Looked like the wizard was losing today too, he noticed absentmindedly before he was slammed into a wall by non other than the witless wonder, Potter himself.
The moment Draco recognized who it was, he struck out, catching the idiot a good one on the point of his chin. Harry staggered back and Draco brushed his robes neatly back into order like nothing at all had happened.
“What the bloody hell was that for?” Harry demanded rubbing his chin and trying to get his eyes to focus.
Draco glanced at him and quirked a brow. “For mussing my clothes, you fucking twit,” he said. “Potter, we have got to quit meeting like this. I’m going to have to start charging you for wasting my time.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he straightened his glasses. “I guess all the little rumors were wrong about you then,” he said.
“How’s that?” Draco asked.
“I heard you get around. I didn’t hear that you got paid for it.”
Draco blinked. Had Saint Potter just called him a whore?
“But then, that must be a step up,” Harry continued, ignoring the angry look Draco was giving him. “I mean, getting paid for it has to better than not getting paid for it, right?”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to pick another fight with me, Potter, or if you’re trying to proposition me,” Draco said.
He watched, a little fascinated, as Potter blushed and looked down at his feet. “Look, I just wanted to know what was going on …in there …at breakfast. I …well, I don’t usually get snogged for calling people Death Eaters.”
Draco smirked. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“Well?”
“Well what? Why did I kiss you?” Draco thought about his answer for a moment and finally said, “Moment of insanity.”
“Oh,” Harry said.
Draco sighed. “It’s called lust, Golden Boy, surely even you have heard of it?”
“Er-what?”
Potter blinked those big guileless green eyes at him and Draco had to grit his teeth and look away. Those innocent eyes were enough to make the most holy angel think about wanton things that were best done with the lights out.
Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to meet those eyes. He moved to press himself just a little against Harry’s body, enough to feel his body heat and make Harry aware of him, but not enough for anything else. “Potter, don’t tempt me, or I’ll make you my bitch,” he whispered, his breath washing over Harry’s lips teasingly.
Harry’s pretty green eyes widened in surprise and Draco stepped back. That damnable innocence made Draco want more than anything to be the one to corrupt him. He wanted to push him down on the floor right there and fuck him until his eyes were brimming with carnal knowledge.
He didn’t, of course. Instead, he said, “You should be more careful who you go pulling into dark corners, Potter. Every once in a while, the rumors are true.”
He slipped out from behind the tapestry and quickly left without seeing Potter’s expression. It would have been priceless, no doubt of that, but he didn’t quite trust himself at the moment.
Part III
Draco could feel Harry Potter watching him. He was accustomed to being watched and stared at, but not by Potter. It was making him twitchy.
It made him feel a little better to know that he was having relatively the same affect on Potter, to a much higher, and far more entertaining, degree. And he was doing it by simply being there.
In Transfiguration, he walked by Harry and Weasley and the crystal goblet that Potter was supposed to be turning into a bird shattered half way through its transformation, splattering the area around him with transparent feathers and goo.
The next day in Potions, Draco was chopping daisy roots, completely engrossed in the progress of his shrinking potion, which was coming along quite nicely, when he was hit in the face by the strong odor of flowers and looked up.
“Potter, what is this supposed to be?” Snape demanded, standing over Harry and glaring into his cauldron.
He had somehow accidentally given his shrinking potion the color and consistency of bad porridge. As Draco watched, the pot bubbled and made a farting noise, releasing puffs of pink, perfume-scented vapor.
Snape was so angry, he looked like he was ready to pop a vessel. With a few more snide comments about Harry’s inattention and stupidity, he gave him a week of detentions and a failing grade for the day. When he stalked by Draco’s work station, Draco couldn’t help noticing that Snape looked positively cheery at being handed such a good excuse to torment Potter. Twisted though it was, Snape had a very healthy sense of retribution, and undoubtedly considered his punishment to be well justified-for more than one reason.
Draco looked at Harry across the room and their eyes locked. Harry blushed in that fetching way he had and quickly looked away.
Blaise, Vincent, and Gregory all snickered and Blaise prodded Draco with his elbow, trying to share the joke. Draco smiled faintly and went back to his potion, trying to put Potter and his charming little blush out of his mind.
It went like that for the rest of the week. Draco couldn’t be in the same room with the git for ten minutes at a time without something disastrous happening.
For Draco, the last straw came eight days after he made the abysmal mistake of kissing Potter at breakfast.
They had a Quidditch match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Gryffindor was eighty points ahead and the Snitch was nowhere in sight.
Draco circled the pitch again, his eyes darting through the air in search of the little gold ball. He ducked as a Bludger shot toward him, barely missing his head, and stuck his middle finger up at the Gryffindor Beater who had hit it at him, much to the amusement of the onlookers.
Luna Lovegood was commentating again, and she shifted her attention from describing the shapes of the clouds and the lovely blue color of the sky just long enough to remark on how really dashing he looked on his broom nearly getting clobbered. He didn’t even bother to suppress his grin of amusement when Luna stated serenely, “…and it looks like Harry Potter quite agrees with me.”
The Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students all cheered, whistled and cat-called at this. The Gryffindors, of course, did not. They had no sense of humor whatsoever when it came to their boy hero. It probably didn’t help matters much that it seemed to be true as well. Draco snuck a peek at Potter and thought he caught him checking out his ass before Potter became aware of it and hastily looked away.
Draco winked at Luna as he flew past the commentator’s podium and she waved at him absentmindedly before returning her attention to the sky. “It’s really nice weather we’re having today. Perfect time of year for sighting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.”
Draco snickered and went back to looking for the Snitch. Then he saw it, hovering just inches in front of Harry Potter’s nose. He held his breath, sure that Potter would see it and grab it. Potter had to fucking see it, it was right there!
Harry didn’t move, he was gazing off into the distance with a blank, dreamy expression on his face.
Draco shot toward him and snatched the thing, literally, right out from under his nose. He was tempted to knock the silly ass off his broom in the process, but managed somehow to control the urge.
He landed on the grass in the middle of a crowd of his housemates, all ready to congratulate him on his victory and parade him around on their shoulders. But that would have to wait. He angrily pushed away the first hands to reach for him and the rest of them quickly caught on and backed off.
Draco threw his broom to Vincent, who caught it and twirled it in his hand like a baton before putting it over his shoulder and following him.
Blaise fell into stride beside him as Draco stalked across the grass toward the Gryffindors. “Alright, Draco?” he asked.
“It fucking will be in a second,” Draco said.
He walked right up to Potter, who was getting reassuring claps on the back from his friends, and poked him in the chest with one finger forcefully enough to make Harry take a surprised step back. “What the devil is wrong with you, Potter?” Draco snarled into his face.
Harry nervously looked to the left and right to make sure that he had not been abandoned by his little followers. Granger and Weasley were right there as always, and he seemed to relax.
“What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?” Weasley snapped. “You just won. What are you getting your panties in a twist for?”
Draco shifted his eyes to Ron for a second and lifted one pale eyebrow at him. “I’ll thank you to keep your mind off of my underwear, weasel,” he said.
Behind him, the Slytherins all laughed.
Ron flushed and muttered something under his breath about ferrets.
“Draco-” Harry began.
Draco glared at him. “I don’t believe I’ve given you permission to use my name, Potter.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I-well, I just-”
“Listen, you closet fairy,” Draco snarled, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you can knock it off right fucking now, understand?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably and forced himself to meet Draco’s eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re so pissed off about,” he said. “Ron’s right, you did win. But you’re acting like I cheated you.”
“You did cheat me, Potter,” Draco said, poking him in the chest again with his finger.
Harry suddenly looked angry himself. He smacked Draco’s hand away and glared at him. “I got distracted.”
“Yeah,” Draco sneered. “Daydreaming about my ass instead of paying attention.”
Harry flushed bright pink and worried his bottom lip nervously. Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins thought this was hilarious. Draco thought it was sexy as hell, but he was still mad and far from finished making Harry squirm.
“You really want to know why I’m pissed off, Potter?” Draco asked.
Harry looked at him uncertainly, like he really didn’t think he wanted to know that badly-or at least not in front of their current audience.
“Let me enlighten you,” Draco said, lowering his voice slightly. It would carry, but only to those closest to them. He wanted to embarrass the boy, but he didn’t want to have to bring out the smelling salts to revive him afterwards. “I’m pissed off that you could have caught the fucking Snitch in your teeth if you’d been paying attention instead of ogling my ass,” Draco growled. “I’m pissed off that every time I turn around, I catch you feeling me up with your eyes. But most of all, I’m pissed off that I can’t even walk down the hall or into a room without you blowing something up. If I wanted my own little pet stalker, Potter, I’d go out and buy one.”
During this little speech, Draco had watched Potter go through almost every color of the rainbow, but as he said this last, Harry went a sickly white color and looked like he was going to be sick. Maybe he was going to need those smelling salts after all, Draco mused.
“What’s he talking about, Harry?” Ron asked. Hermione just stood there glaring. She was a smart girl, she knew what he was talking about.
“Weren’t you listening to the commentary, weasel?” Blaise drawled.
Ron just blinked and looked confused. “Yeah? What about it?”
“Oh, look at that,” Blaise said, doing an uncanny impression of Luna Lovegood, “Draco Malfoy almost got clobbered by that bludger hit by that big ugly Gryffindor. I don’t remember his name …Peirce …Picket …something like that. My, doesn’t Draco just look dashing? And it looks like Harry Potter quite agrees with me.”
The Slytherins all laughed and snorted. Even Draco’s lips twitched a little.
Weasley had completely bypassed Potter’s sickly white color in favor of a very interesting shade of green. Hermione’s eyes were flashing angrily, but she had yet to draw her wand, so Draco wasn’t too fussed about her.
“Smart girl, our little Miss Lovegood,” Gregory said on the other side of Draco.
“I thought she was just …being …well, Luna,” Ron stuttered.
“You mean Looney, don’t you, weasel?” Draco said.
“Er-yeah …yeah, I guess,” Weasley said. “Harry, you’re not really …?”
“As gay as gay can be,” Blaise confirmed.
Harry was staring off over their heads with his jaw firmly clenched. When Ron prodded him to get his attention, he turned his head to look at him, sparing a resentful glare for Draco as he did.
“Harry, is that true?” Weasley asked. “Are you …?”
Potter closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Ron still looked anxious. “But … with Malfoy?”
“What? No!” Harry said forcefully. He glared again at Draco, who merely shrugged and looked pleased with himself. “No,” he said again.
Weasley seemed to relax a little.
“Don’t lie, Potter,” Draco whispered, leaning close. “You want it and you know it. You don’t have to lie. It would be nice though, if you could stop being so goddamn obvious about it.”
Harry swallowed and leaned away from him. “Look, I’m sorry about the game, alright?” he said. “I didn’t mean to throw it, I just-Just leave me alone, Malfoy, okay?”
He turned to leave and came up short when Draco grabbed his sleeve. Draco grinned and bent his head close to Potter’s ear to whisper, “You don’t really want me to leave you alone, do you Potter?”
Harry shivered and wrenched his arm free. “Yes I do,” he said, and stalked off of the pitch with his two friends close behind him and Slytherin laughter ringing in his ears.
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