annamaheba

The Movies 5/6 and 6/6

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 00:16:52 GMT

Title: The Movies
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister and my best friend for all of their loving support. I decided to combine the last two chapters, and this one is just as explicit as the fourth part (again, if that's not your thing, you should skip it.) Thanks so much to everyone who has read and commented!
Summary: Harry just can't catch a break.

Part 1: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1302.html#cutid1
Part 2: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1742.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1843.html#cutid1
Part 4: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/2250.html#cutid1

************************************************************************

Monday morning brought him back to the office, where he was incapable of doing anything but wondering where Malfoy was. They hadn’t spoken since Malfoy left his apartment.

Harry, meanwhile, had let his brain shut down. The consequences of his meeting with Malfoy - the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, that he’d never felt that way before during sex - were going to have a profound impact on his future. But he didn’t want to think about that. Not that he really wanted to be obsessing over Malfoy, either, but suppressing it proved more difficult.

He kept going to the canteen to get water, hoping that he’d see Malfoy in there at some point. This didn’t work –Malfoy avoided social interaction whenever possible, anyway. No one in the office was happy that he was working there – his parents had pulled the few strings they had left to get him that job, which confused Harry. After all, the Malfoys still had lots of money and Malfoy didn’t really need a job.

Harry, getting up for the 5th time that day to use the loo, pondered who exactly working in the Ministry was still on friendly terms with the Malfoys when he rounded the corner and smacked straight into Malfoy himself. Malfoy’s omnipresent paper stack popped apart and landed all over the hallway.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter!” Malfoy sputtered indignantly.

“I’m sorry!” Harry said, face flushed with mortification, kneeling down to pick up papers with Malfoy snatching them away.

“Potter, that doesn’t go there, no, no - don’t put those on top! Just stop, STOP.”

Harry let go of the papers and stood up, watching Malfoy scrambling and shuffling papers on the floor. “Sorry,” Harry said louder this time.

Malfoy stopped shuffling papers, without looking at Harry. “It’s fine, Potter,” Malfoy responded crossly.

Harry knew that was a cue for him to go, but he stayed until Malfoy had arranged his papers correctly and then offered his hand to Malfoy to help him up. Malfoy scowled, but grabbed Harry’s hand, anyway. He stood up slowly, and finally looked directly into Harry’s eyes for the first time since Friday, they’re hands still limply joined.

“Malfoy,” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy’s shoulders tensed like he wanted to say something, but then didn’t.

Then Malfoy looked down, gripping Harry’s hand tighter. Harry looked down also, watching Malfoy pull Harry’s hand closer to him. Then they were moving. He only saw the back of Malfoy’s head because Malfoy wasn’t looking at him as they walked down the hall.

He heard the squeak of a door opening and then they were in the bathroom and Malfoy was pushing him against the wall, grabbing his face and kissing him and it seemed like his kiss was filling Harry this time instead of emptying him out.

He closed his eyes - Harry felt like he hadn’t been kissed in years. Then a delayed sexual reaction hit him so hard that he gasped into Malfoy’s mouth. He heard Malfoy exhale sharply through his nose and grab Harry’s hair harder, pushing into his mouth with his lips.

After a few moments they broke apart barely breathing, their faces still almost touching.

Harry let out a harsh breath, wanting so badly to say something, anything, but found himself unable to. Malfoy’s hand reflexively tightened on his shoulder.

Unable to stop himself as surely he was incapable of talking, Harry leaned in again and touched his lips to Malfoy’s and let them stay there. Then he pushed just a little harder and God it was like a magnet, he couldn’t stop.

He cupped Malfoy’s face, which was smooth and sort of pointy under his fingertips and let his thumb brush Malfoy’s ear.

Suddenly they heard a squeak and leaped apart faster than he could have thought possible, Malfoy staring like a hunted animal at the door. But it was the women’s bathroom next door that had made the noise.

Once Malfoy had collected himself, he looked at Harry expectantly. Harry wanted to reach out to him, but he just couldn’t. He wanted to kiss him again, but he didn’t. He felt rooted to the spot. Malfoy’s face didn’t change, but he walked straight past Harry and put his hand on the door handle. “Come over tonight,” Harry said finally, his normal voice seeming so loud in the echo-y bathroom.

“Why,” Malfoy said.

There was a beat of silence. “I don’t know,” Harry said. He felt pathetic.

Malfoy made a noise, and then left.

************************************************************************

Harry sat in his living room when he got home, staring at the TV but not really seeing it. He wanted to walk around to get his mind off the clusterfuck that was his situation with Malfoy, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to actually think of anywhere to go. He watched the room get more fuzzy and vague, the darkness coming so slowly that he didn’t turn on a light until it was black.

Twelve o’clock came and went. Harry was sure Malfoy was with the purple shirt man – he didn’t know how he knew, he just knew it, and it made him want to beat the purple shirt man until his own hands broke.

At two in the morning his buzzer rang, causing Harry’s heart to stop. He shakily took his wand out to spell the door open, remaining in his chair, putting it down once he heard the door downstairs bang shut.

He heard the sound of someone pounding up in the stairs and then beating at the door, but Harry still felt like he was paralyzed. He heard the beating stop, then get harder and more insistent. “Potter,” he heard, and like that the spell broke.

Harry staggered up out of his seat and opened the door.

Malfoy’s face was blank, but his eyes were focused despite the fact he smelled like alcohol again, and specifically they were focused on Harry. “Why did you ask me to come over?” Malfoy asked in an even voice, but Harry noticed that his lip was twitching.

Harry knew ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t going to cut it this time. “Because I just-” Harry stopped, feeling that horrible block again. Harry didn’t know why he’d asked Malfoy over, he didn’t know why he’d asked him to the movies in the first place, he wasn’t even sure if he was really gay or bisexual or just fucked up. He looked at Malfoy, whose mouth was starting to twist, who was glancing behind him like he was about to leave, he was going to leave him alone - “I just want you so much,” Harry blurted.

Harry didn’t how true it was until he said it, but he didn’t have time to take a breath before Malfoy practically tackled him, and now Harry was stumbling back automatically to regain his balance, Malfoy’s mouth pressing his so hard he was almost pushing Harry’s face backwards

Finally in the middle of the living room, Harry regained his equilibrium and put his arms around Malfoy, something rushing through him.

Harry started pulling Malfoy, guiding him to the couch and then ungracefully collapsing on it with him.

They fell on the couch long ways, Malfoy squirming up from underneath Harry to straddle him, scooting up his body so that he could kiss Harry’s mouth, using one elbow for balance, leaving the other free to run all over Harry’s hair, his face, his side. Harry closed his eyes.

Malfoy settled himself directly on Harry’s lap then, rubbing his groin against Harry’s crotch. Harry groaned and tipped his head backwards. It felt even better than standing up - he could feel the heat and all of the friction and the weight of Malfoy on him.

Malfoy started working his mouth down Harry’s torso. Harry felt that tiny bit of panic as Malfoy started working on the buttons of his jeans, but then Malfoy looked up at him and smirked slightly, and he felt like he could handle it.

Soon Malfoy had slid onto the floor on his knees in front of the couch, trying to make Harry sit up and take off his pants. Harry realized what he was doing and stopped him.

“I uh, I don’t think we should.”

Malfoy stared incredulously, and Harry realized that he had misinterpreted.

“No, no! I just, it’ll be over too soon.” Harry said, somewhat frustrated. Malfoy’s expression softened some. He climbed back on the couch and sat next to Harry, turning Harry’s face with his hand and kissing him on the mouth slowly.

“Are you sure you want this, Potter?” Malfoy mumbled into his cheek.

“Yes,” Harry said, swallowing around his dry throat.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Harry said, a wave of guilt overwhelming him when he realized how sincere Malfoy’s question was. He took a deep breath. “Malfoy, you have no idea…I’m really – I’m very sorry-“

“Oh hush, Potter,” Malfoy cut in, sounding slightly annoyed. Harry went dead silent. “I always knew you were fuckwitted – in fact, I must be the most masochistic wizard alive to have jumped you. I really should go, before your idiocy interferes with my life anymore.”

Harry didn’t speak for a moment until Malfoy gently nudged him in the ribs. “Wanker,” Harry gasped, elbowing Malfoy a little harder. Malfoy retaliated by shoving him all the way on his back long ways on the couch again, pinning Harry’s arms over his head. “No,” Malfoy said in his face, tightening his grip on Harry’s wrists, “that title goes to you, recent history considered.” Harry snorted.

Malfoy kissed him again and reached down between them. Harry’s breathing doubled and he grabbed the back of Malfoy’s head harder while trying to grind his hips upwards at the same time.

Malfoy undid his own belt and pushed down his pants and boxers faster than Harry was ready for. Harry gasped when Malfoy did the same to him, feeling their skin coming in contact for the first time, and then Malfoy quickly stripped off his own shirt and helped Harry maneuver out of his.

Suddenly Malfoy sat up on the couch again, making Harry sit up with him. He kissed Harry, and then walked over beside the coffee table where he’d tossed his clothes. Harry sat there feeling awkward and very naked, not knowing what else to do.

Malfoy was digging around in his pile of clothes, producing a small tube and a condom. Harry felt like hyperventilating

Malfoy walked back to the couch and sat down, tube and condom in his hand and kissed Harry again. Harry returned the kiss faintly, trying to concentrate on not thinking and not being nervous. Suddenly he felt the plastic edge of the condom digging into his palm. He stopped kissing Malfoy and looked at him.

Malfoy pressed his lips together, and then asked, “Do you know how this works?”

Harry wanted to laugh, for what reason he didn’t know, but thankfully managed to smother it. He really didn’t know all that much about the actual mechanics, but he could guess.

“I think so, yeah,” Harry almost whispered. He was motionless.

“Well…that’s just fantastic,” Malfoy said after a moment, smirking slightly.

There was another beat of silence. “What, um – what do you like to do?” Harry asked him.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and said, “I thought we’d start out with you buggering me.”

Harry exhaled sharply. “Oh… ok.”

Malfoy looked at him one more time, then crawled carefully over Harry’s lap and arranged himself on his hands and knees, his hands on the arm of the sofa.

Harry felt somewhat disconnected as he tore open the condom wrapper, looking at it two or three times to make sure he was putting it on the right way. He had used lube a few times, and applied it the way he had before, hoping that it was ok.

Finally prepared he scooted over to Malfoy, arranging his hips and his knees around Malfoy’s. He looked down, watching his cock twitching, seeing it so close to Malfoy’s arse, but did not move. He didn’t know why he wasn’t moving.

After a couple of seconds he saw Malfoy’s hand turn over, and saw his fingers opening and closing, looking for Harry’s hand. Harry swallowed and touched his fingers to Malfoy’s open palm. Malfoy grasped his hand and squeezed it, running his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. Then he pulled Harry’s hand until it was on top of his own on the arm of the couch, Harry’s body now fully bent over Malfoy’s back. Harry could hear Malfoy breathing, he could feel the warmth of his back - he could smell him. Harry pulled his lower lip into his mouth and reached with his free hand to his groin, lining up his cock with Malfoy’s hole.

Malfoy’s breathing became harsher. Harry poked a little bit, feeling Malfoy squirming underneath him. Finally he felt Malfoy open up suddenly and suck the tip in and Jesus Christ, it was tight. Malfoy gasped.

“Are you ok?” Harry asked breathlessly into Malfoy’s ear.

“Yeah, yes,” Malfoy’s voice sounded tight. “Just, you know… go slow, Potter.”

Hearing his own name in Malfoy’s strained voice coiled his insides. Harry pushed in slowly, feeling Malfoy squirm and hearing him gasp as he sank deeper. He knew that Malfoy was experiencing some pain, but he was going as slow as he possibly could. Finally Harry was buried up to his balls, and let out a slow breath. Malfoy took a moment adjusting himself; the muscles shifting around inside of him made Harry’s eyeballs roll back into his skull. Then Malfoy was still.

“Ok?” Harry whispered.

“Yeah,” Malfoy mumbled into his arm.

Harry pulled out slowly and thrust in as carefully as possible. Malfoy made a low groan. Harry thrust in again, then again, feeling his belly tightening. Finally he had to let go of Malfoy’s hand and sit up to get a better angle.

Malfoy moaned at the new angle, giving Harry a direction every once in awhile, which Harry scrambled to comply with. Harry was trying so hard not to come but it was becoming difficult.

“Are you close?” asked Harry in a pinched voice. “I can’t-“

“Yeah I’m close,” Malfoy said, exhaling. Then he reached underneath himself and started fisting his own cock, making Harry thrust into him quicker.

Finally Harry felt Malfoy getting rigid, and Harry slammed into him harder, remembering everything that Malfoy had suggested. Then he heard Malfoy gasp, and felt his body slacken gradually. That was it. Harry leaned over a little bit and thrust into Malfoy erratically a couple of times, then thrust in deep and stopped, moaning as he filled the condom.

When Harry took his first deep breath, he couldn’t help his lips twitching as the endorphins washed over him. He pulled out of Malfoy carefully, and got up to put the condom in the trash. When he turned back around Malfoy had flipped onto his back and was stretching his arms over his head. Harry stopped a moment, staring at him.

Hearing Harry stop, Malfoy opened his eyes turned his head Harry’s direction. Then he reached one arm carelessly off the side of the couch, beckoning Harry to return. Harry walked back and maneuvered himself on his side, his back against Malfoy’s chest. Harry felt extremely awkward again. Malfoy put his arm around Harry’s middle.

“Not bad, Potter,” Malfoy deadpanned in Harry’s ear, pinching his ribs a little bit.

Harry snorted, relaxing a little bit. “’Not bad,’ my arse. It was good.”

Malfoy laughed and Harry elbowed him in the ribs from behind, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“Ow, that sort of hurt you know,” Malfoy said, rubbing his side. Harry chose not to say anything. “Oh all right, it was good,” Malfoy sighed, sounding bored. Harry didn’t want to turn around and let Malfoy see how much he was smiling.

Malfoy patted Harry absently on the ribs and then groaned.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“I just saw what time it is,” Malfoy said, rubbing his hand along his nose. “We have work tomorrow.”

Harry felt his shoulders sag in despair. He’d forgotten completely.

“I don’t want to move, though,” Malfoy continued.

“I’m moving,” Harry said, wiggling out of Malfoy’s grasp, “I’m hungry.”

“Oooo excellent idea, Potter. Maybe you’re not so fuckwitted, after all.”

Harry smacked him lightly with his shirt, and then walked into the kitchen, turning on the lights.

“Ow,” he heard Malfoy say from the couch.

“There was already a lamp on,” Harry said.

“I know, but that’s so… bright,” Malfoy said, screwing up his face against the glare.

Harry heated up soup and split it with Malfoy, who was feeling the first hints of a hangover. After they finished both of their heads were drooping at the table.

“Let’s try to sleep,” Malfoy said, putting his bowl in the sink.

“You mean, here?” Harry said, putting his bowl in the sink with Malfoy’s.

“Yeah,” Malfoy said looking at him, a trifle of uncertainty in his voice.

“Oh… that’ll be good.” Harry said. Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry was too tired to evaluate whether his response had warranted that or not.

They walked to Harry’s bedroom, and Malfoy paused in the doorway to kiss him again, making Harry suddenly come back to life.

They were late to work the next day.

The Movies 4/6

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 23:05:59 GMT

Title: The Movies
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister and my best friend for all of their loving support. Also, this contains references to movies that weren't all in theaters at the same time. Bear with me. :) Note: This chapter is pretty explicit. If that's not your thing, you may not want to read it.
Summary: Harry just can't catch a break.

Part 1: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1302.html#cutid1
Part 2: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1742.html#cutid1
Part 3: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1843.html#cutid1

************************************************************************

Monday morning finally came, and Harry groaned when the alarm went off. After what had happened with Malfoy, he’d pretty much rather stick his head an oven than go to the office. Not that he really knew what happened with Malfoy, himself.

After two hours of sitting at his desk he noticed that he’d been reading the same few sentences over and over again, his brain not really comprehending. It was pointless for him to be here if he wasn’t going to be doing anything. He sighed softly, and tried to clear his head and focus for the millionth time.

Focus was promptly forgotten, however, when he heard his door squeak open. Malfoy walked in with a rigid posture and an expression to match. “From Department of Magical Accidents,” he said tonelessly, handing the paper to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, accepting the memo. “Mal-“ Harry looked up, but Malfoy had already stalked out of his office.

That Monday morning encounter established a pattern for the rest of the week – Harry would try to be civil, and Malfoy shut him down.

Harry was angry. It wasn’t fair that Malfoy had done this to him – after all, it was Malfoy who had kissed him, and Malfoy who walked away angrily, without any explanation at all. Harry still had no idea what had possessed him. He had actually started to enjoy their cinema outings, and now he couldn’t really imagine asking Malfoy to go again.

Eventually Friday came again, and Malfoy was delivering his last round of memos to Harry. Harry’s agitation had been growing all week and he was ready to have some words with Malfoy – Malfoy couldn’t just… do something like that.

He steeled himself when the door opened. He looked up, fully prepared to say something cutting, but then he noticed Malfoy fidgeting and pushing a piece of hair out of his eyes, and Harry found himself asking instead, “Are you busy tonight?”

Malfoy looked startled, but recovered quickly. “Yes,” he said, hardly any inflection in his voice.

“Tomorrow, then?” Harry pressed stubbornly.

“Then, too.”

“Bollocks, I don’t believe you.”

“Some of us have lives, Potter. We like to go on outings that aren’t social experiments.” Harry was about to retort, then shut up suddenly as he was very unpleasantly reminded of the time he’d witnessed one of Malfoy’s “outings.”

Malfoy looked away uncomfortably, certainly thinking of the same thing.

“All right, then,” said Harry in a hollow voice. “Have a good time.”

************************************************************************

Later that night, Harry lay in bed looking up at the ceiling.

‘Maybe,’ Harry thought bitterly, ‘Malfoy and his ridiculous looking companion will finally make it to the cinema tonight.’

He went to sleep, hoping that he didn’t dream.

************************************************************************

Someone was screaming at him. No, not screaming. But there was noise – it was loud. It was the buzzer to his apartment, he realized. He rolled over in his bed and looked over at his clock. 2:45 AM. “Who the bloody hell is it?” he thought, groggily rolling out of bed.

What if it was Hermione or Ron? Suddenly he became more awake. What if something had happened? He quickly buzzed in the door, throwing on the first t-shirt he found. The only people who could operate the buzzer were people who knew he lived there – the button didn’t show up unless you already knew what you were looking for.

He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and swung open his door to –

Malfoy.

Harry stood there dumbly, his hand still on the door. Malfoy was breathing heavily and sweating a little bit, his hair ruffled and his eyes glassy. He smelled like smoke and alcohol and cologne.

“Malfoy, what-” Harry began.

“Shut up, Potter!”

‘Oh for Merlin’s sake,’ Harry thought in exasperation. “Shut up? Shut up?? You show up on my doorstep at three in the bloody morning and you have the nerve to say to me-“

“I said shut up Potter!” snapped Malfoy, slurring a bit. “I need to ask you a question.”

Harry snorted and held out his arms. “Ask away, I’m sure all of my neighbors are fully awake by now, anyway.”

Malfoy ignored this. “Why were you in Soho when you saw me?”

“For fuck’s sake, this again?” asked Harry incredulously. “How many times do I have to explain myself? I was walking around, I walked all over bloody London that night, I didn’t even know it was there-“

“Then why-“ Malfoy asked, his voice sounded uneven now. “Why did you kiss me then?”

“What?” cried Harry “I kissed you? You kissed me! You bloody ATTACKED ME-”

Something changed in Malfoy’s face then, it hardened and the furious look faded. “I’m leaving now,” he announced abruptly.

“What? Wait a second Malfoy, what the fuck are you even talking about-“

“We’re not discussing this. Ever.” said Malfoy over his shoulder walking toward the staircase.

Harry felt like something important had just happened, and that he’d bollocksed it up.

“Malfoy, wait just one bloody second,” Harry said, striding out of his door to grab Malfoy’s arm.

“No, Potter,” said Malfoy, turning around to try to get his arm away from Harry, who only tightened his grip. “Let me go,” Malfoy snarled, viciously trying to yank his arm away.

“No,” said Harry stubbornly, gripping his arm tighter. “I just… you show up here, and you’re not making any sodding sense -“

“I told you I’m going now,” said Malfoy edgily, “You can go back to sleep or whatever freaks do on their time off.”

That hit a nerve. “I’m not the freak,” Harry growled, grabbing Malfoy’s arm harder. “How dare you say anything to me after - “

“Oh fuck you, Potter! How dare you act like…” Malfoy’s voice faded, and he looked away, furious. It was then that Harry realized how close they were, and that he was touching Malfoy’s body. He could smell his shampoo.

Without thinking he yanked Malfoy to him, grabbing him and pushing up against the wall so hard that it gave Harry a momentary pause but Malfoy was opening his mouth and their tongues were touching. Malfoy pulled him closer until their bodies were flush.

Then Malfoy’s hand squirmed between them and cupped and squeezed Harry’s cock through his pants. Harry hiccupped and shut his eyes. He felt like he was quickly losing control of the situation. When he opened his eyes again he only saw the wall on the opposite side, Malfoy on his knees in front of him, his hands on Harry’s hips, pushing him until Harry’s bare backside was against the cold wall. Harry’s mouth was dry and he could barely look as the saw Malfoy’s shiny hair, bobbing with the movements of his hands, getting Harry’s zipper undone.

Then his cock was in cold air, and he didn’t want to look down. He just couldn’t.

And then Harry felt Malfoy’s mouth close around the tip, and it felt like his body was collapsing on itself. Malfoy’s mouth started moving up and down on his cock fast. He was sucking him hard and jerking him off at the same time and Harry was mortifyingly close to coming.

Malfoy’s throat opened up and he took him down farther, his hand coming up to caress Harry’s balls. It was happening too fast.

Harry made a broken sound, leaning all the way over, his hands resting lightly on Malfoy’s shoulders. After a few seconds of regaining his breath, he felt heavy, like he couldn’t stand up anymore. Carefully he sunk to the ground with his hands balancing themselves on Malfoy’s shoulders.

Finally, he and Malfoy were on the same level, the outline of the latter’s face barely visible through the light filtering down from the stairwell. Before Harry’s eyes could get adjusted though, he heard footsteps from upstairs. His heart stopped as he suddenly remembered where they were.

“Quick, follow me into my room,” Harry said, jumping up as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed was one of his neighbors catching him--he couldn’t even think about it right now.

The footsteps were getting closer so Malfoy had really no choice but to slip back into Harry’s room. Once they were inside and the door was closed, Harry caught Malfoy looking around at everything. This was the first time that he’d seen Harry’s apartment.

“Er…” said Harry, immediate danger now gone and leaving gaping awkwardness in its place. Malfoy’s eyes snapped back to him, looking for all the world like he wanted to say something, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter!” Malfoy finally exploded. “Are you GAY or not?”

The question took Harry aback, mostly because he didn’t really have a ready answer for it himself.

“I don’t know,” he said weakly. It was silent for a few moments.

“Oh that’s just perfect,” growled Malfoy, stalking around the room “You don’t know!” he mocked. Harry realized he was still fairly drunk. “What is it going to take you to KNOW, Potter? Need me to suck it again?”

Harry winced.

“And you just happened to find yourself in one of the most homosexual districts in London on one of the most homosexual days of the year BY YOURSELF and didn’t run away screaming?”

“I-“ said Harry.

“And you keep asking me to go to that dreadful Muggle cinema-”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” roared Harry. “I really just don’t know, I had a girlfriend for a long time you know. I – I really did love her.”

Malfoy was quiet for a second, then sat down on a stool. “How could I have forgotten,” he said, smiling resentfully and resting his chin on his hands “you and the girl Weasel have a lot of work ahead of you, producing a litter of mini heroes-”

“Ginny and I broke up,” Harry cut in. “You know that - hell… everyone knows that.” There was a whole category of books and articles on the subject, some of them very heavily devoted to speculation about his sexuality. Maybe one of them could tell Harry whether he was really gay or not.

“But aren’t you still pining after her?” Malfoy asked mockingly, but there was an edge still in his voice.

“No,” Harry said, perplexed. Then, “Why on earth would you think so?”

“Didn’t she ruthlessly chuck you after you caught her shagging your fat cousin on your couch?”

Harry blinked dumbly for a moment. Jesus. “No,” said Harry after a beat, “Actually, I broke things off with her.”

“Because she was shagging your enormous cousin?” Malfoy smirked.

“No,” Harry said, hesitating a moment, then continued, “because I – it wasn’t working. Something was wrong. I – I don’t know what,” he finished lamely.

This was met with utter silence. Harry looked over to Malfoy and saw him moving his jaw and pulling his lips into his mouth. Harry thought he was in some sort of pain until Malfoy burst out laughing, a horrible mirror of Harry’s laughter during the pie-shagging scene.

Harry gritted his teeth in shame.

But Malfoy’s giggles subsided almost as suddenly as they began. He pursed his lips and blinked, as if trying to focus. ‘Still drunk then,’ thought Harry.

“Well Potter,” Malfoy said suddenly, slapping his hands on his thighs and getting to his feet, “this has been a lovely, illuminating chat, but I really must be going.”

Harry felt like a complete failure. “Malfoy,” Harry said, then blurted, “tonight has been pretty one sided, don’t you think?” His voice wobbled on the last word.

Malfoy went still, and for once was silent. Did he really need clarification?

“Do you want, er-“ Really, when did it get so hard for him to string sentences together.

Malfoy’s eyes widened as he finally grasped Harry’s meaning.

“I-“ Harry stopped. ‘Stop talking,’ Harry told himself. ‘It’s not your strong point.’

He walked over to Malfoy, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him again, though with not as much force and more grace than last time. Malfoy, though, was stiff and not responding. Harry swallowed his panic and reached with a sweaty hand in between their torsos, finding Malfoy’s cock as least somewhat hard and groping it through his jeans.

Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath. Harry rubbed somewhat limply, not sure at all what he was doing but trying to replicate what Malfoy had done. Malfoy grabbed him then, hard, pulling their bodies close together like last time.

Harry felt like all the breath had been taken out of his lungs. He was having flashbacks, already, to what happened in the hallway.

Malfoy was grasping his arms somewhat desperately, gripping and releasing like a cat.

Harry steadied his hands on Malfoy’s hips, lowering himself awkwardly on his knees. Malfoy’s breathing became harsh.

Swallowing, Harry tried to make his fingers work the buttons on Malfoy’s jeans, an obstacle which currently seemed insurmountable. Malfoy squirmed, his fingers grabbing Harry’s shoulders and his hair, running a finger along the rim of his glasses.

Finally he pulled the jeans down, and then looped his thumbs around the hem of Malfoy’s boxers. Harry felt himself flush when they caught around Malfoy’s cock, then finally he came face to face with well…Malfoy.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was beyond impatient, starting to move his hips to align the end of his cock with Harry’s mouth. Harry’s shaky, still weak hand took Malfoy, who was hard as a rock. Malfoy whimpered.

The sound of Malfoy’s voice made Harry’s stomach bottom out. He closed his eyes and gripped Malfoy’s cock harder, making tiny stroking motions.

Malfoy was pushing into his hand a little bit, inhaling sharply though his nose. He was fisting Harry’s hair – his cock was still inches away from Harry’s face. Harry opened his eyes and saw it, and took a deep breath.

He opened his mouth hesitantly, closing his lips over the tip. Malfoy hissed and tightened his hand in Harry’s hair. Harry’s lips were dry, so he licked them and sucked in the tip again, closing his eyes tight.

He kept taking Malfoy inch by inch, having to open his mouth wider and wider. Moving closer, he placed his hand awkwardly on Malfoy’s hip to steady himself. Finally he was able to move his lips farther down the shaft. Malfoy’s hips lurched forward then and it was too much - Harry gagged. Malfoy immediately backed off, running his hand through Harry’s hair and murmuring sorry.

Harry backed up and started using his hand as well as his mouth, using a stroking motion that he himself liked.

Eventually Harry developed a rhythm, and Mafloy restrained himself from moving his hips too much, only occasionally pulling on him. Soon Malfoy became silent, and his cock grew even more in Harry’s mouth, and Harry knew that he was about to come. He sped up the motions of his hand and his mouth.

Before long Malfoy gasped, and grabbed Harry’s hair tight, making him stop, filling Harry’s mouth with a warm, bitter liquid. Wanting to get rid of it as quickly as possible, Harry swallowed it.

For a second or two Harry stayed on his knees collecting himself. Malfoy was breathing heavily and resting his hand weakly on top of Harry’s head. Eventually Harry put his hands on the ground to get up, wincing as his knees cracked. When he was finally upright Malfoy pulled him close and kissed him. Harry wondered with deep embarrassment if his mouth tasted like Malfoy.

Malfoy continued to kiss him, but Harry didn’t lean into it, and didn’t open his mouth. Mafloy pulled away with an irritated look away and studied Harry’s face.

“I’m going to go now, Potter.”

“Ok,” Harry said quietly.

Harry heard Malfoy walking down his stairs and went to shut his door. He wandered back to his bed in a daze, his mind too full to think. Eventually the shapes in the room were shifting.

‘What am I doing?’ The thought almost woke him up, but then he was pulled under.
************************************************************************

The Movies 3/6

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 02:45:33 GMT

Title: The Movies
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister and my best friend for all of their loving support. Also, this contains references to movies that weren't all in theaters at the same time. Bear with me. :) Also, I took some liberty with London Pride - it takes place during the summer, not the fall.
Summary: Harry just can't catch a break.

Part 1: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1302.html#cutid1
Part 2: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1742.html#cutid1

“Hello Potter,” said Malfoy coldly. He said nothing else.

“Er, shall we go then?” said Harry, inclining his head towards the street. Malfoy raised his eyebrows and shrugged aggressively. Harry started walking, Malfoy falling behind on purpose. Harry felt miserable.

Finally they were at the theater. Discarding his original, quite depressing but critically acclaimed choice, he searched wildly for something entertaining. He decided on a comedy again, and hoped that Malfoy wouldn’t walk out in the middle of it. Malfoy snatched his ticket and strode into the theater in front of Harry, familiar enough with it now to know where to go.

Harry almost had to break his walking stride to catch up with him. They had to get a couple of seats to the side, since they were somewhat late and the previews had already started – it was very crowded. Malfoy sat with his arms crossed and his face tight, not looking at Harry at all.

Ten minutes into the movie Harry realized he’d failed, and failed spectacularly, in his movie selection.

Within that time one character had been peed on and one had accidentally drunk semen. That tickled the audience and probably would have made Harry laugh on any other day, but today it just made him cringe, as if he’d been watching it with someone like Lupin.

About an hour in, after which he thought the movie couldn’t make things any more uncomfortable for him, the main character started looking lustily after an apple pie. Harry watched on in helpless horror as the pie humping unfolded before his very eyes.

The audience broke; Harry felt embarrassment so acute it might’ve well have been him shagging the pie for the world to see. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy turning to face him, eyebrow raised in a look of such utter contempt and loathing that Harry started to laugh - a high pitched, hiccupping laugh that didn’t sound quite natural. Alarmed, he tried to stop, but that made it worse.

Amid his seizures, though, a peculiar thing happened. Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed and his hands unclenched. He smirked at Harry as he watched Harry’s failed attempts to get pull himself together. Staring at him a second longer, Malfoy looked front wards again, his smile illuminated by the changing lights on screen.

Harry’s bizarre laughter finally stopped. Looking at Malfoy’s relaxed posture, he felt lighter himself. Smiling, he leaned back in his seat, somebody practically screaming in his ear with laughter behind him.

************************************************************************

They walked outside after the movie, eyes adjusting to the changing light. “Let’s get a drink,” said Malfoy abruptly.

“Alright,” said Harry, surprised.

They went into a relatively empty pub and sat down at a booth, the waitress immediately taking their order. Malfoy was fiddling with his napkin, not bothering to say anything even though the drink had been his suggestion. The silence was starting to call attention to itself.

“Sorry about the pie shagging in this one,” Harry murmured.

Malfoy snorted. “All Muggle entertainment could be improved with some pie shagging.”

The waitress laid the drinks on their table. Malfoy and Harry both finished fairly quickly, and ordered another one. In between drinks, Malfoy ridiculed Muggles, and Harry let him.

After finishing his third drink, Malfoy looked directly at Harry and asked, “Why were you really in Soho when you saw me?”

Harry almost choked on his drink. “I already told you that.”

“That you were just doddering around and happened to end up there?” asked Malfoy incredulously.

“Yes,” said Harry.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and shrugged, but let the subject drop.

“Why were you so angry at me?” asked Harry, still sort of befuddled.

Malfoy’s looked at him sharply, but Harry met his eyes unfazed. He thought the question was entirely fair. Malfoy stared at him for a second longer and then looked down.

“You can imagine,” Malfoy started out, still not looking at him, “that I was surprised to see you there. As you also can probably imagine, this is something that I don’t want to become common knowledge.” His voice held a bitter note.

Harry felt slightly insulted. “Malfoy, I would never-“

“You better not,” said Malfoy, a definite edge in his voice now.

“I won’t,” said Harry emphatically. Harry wanted to ask a lot more, but it obviously made Malfoy very uncomfortable, and Harry sympathized with that.

Malfoy made a signal to the waitress for the check. She brought it and put it in the center of the table, both of their hands reaching out to grab it, but Malfoy’s got there first.

“Malfoy I can pay-“

“Oh shut up, Potter. I invited you.” Malfoy said exasperatedly, reaching into his pocket to get out his supply of Muggle money, and that was that.

There was less tension after that. In the office Malfoy looked neutral when walking into his office instead of moody. He even smiled when Harry asked if he’d eaten any pie recently. At the end of the week Malfoy accepted Harry’s invitation to the cinema, this time without questioning his sanity.

All of which made Malfoy’s behavior as they walked to the movie very confusing. Their attempted small talk had gotten a good deal easier at the office, but today Malfoy wasn’t even trying. He walked along with his hands in his pockets, putting on a good sulk and shooting Harry down whenever Harry tried to start any conversation.

In the movie that Harry actually found funny, he would turn and look at Malfoy mid-laugh. However, Malfoy sat there as indifferent as ever, and Harry knew that it was intentional. Harry stopped laughing as much, and his annoyance grew.

Afterwards as they were walking home, Harry tried again. “Well that was more entertaining than my normal selection, I think.”

“Binns was more entertaining than your normal selection,” snapped Malfoy. Harry fumed - he didn’t know what was up Malfoy’s arse, but it was really starting to bother him.

“You seemed to find the last one entertaining enough.”

“Hah! Hardly, I think –“

Harry’d had enough. “Look, Malfoy” he said angrily, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, “I don’t know what the bloody hell is your problem today, I haven’t done anything to deserve it, if you have something to say to me, go ahead and say it and stop being such a sodding-“

Malfoy grabbed his face then, forcing their mouths together so roughly that their teeth clicked. Harry promptly forgot all about what he was saying, making an almost anguished sound into Malfoy’s mouth.

Malfoy’s hands pushed up the back of his head, his cold fingers a shock on Harry’s neck, his nails tickling Harry’s scalp. Harry’s mind was white, blank. He could not believe what was happening. Then Malfoy’s tongue pushed its way into his mouth and his guts flipped over, and he moaned again but was still too in shock to even grab Malfoy that tightly.

When Malfoy began to pull away Harry couldn’t say how long they’d been kissing. He was trembling, feeling extremely hot and cold at the same time. He couldn’t quite look at Malfoy, and couldn’t think for all of the noise in his head.

He heard Malfoy breathing, who was standing as still as he was. Their breaths were visible by the street lamp.

“See you, Potter,” Malfoy said in a somewhat raw voice. Harry couldn’t see his face very well.

“See you,” Harry muttered, averting his gaze. He heard Malfoy walking away quickly and looked up, watching him disappear and reappear under every street lamp. Numbly, he got out his keys and made his way up to his room.

************************************************************************

The Movies 2/6

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 01:29:47 GMT

Title: The Movies
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister and my best friend for all of their loving support. Also, this contains references to movies that weren't all in theaters at the same time. Bear with me. :) Also, I took some liberty with London Pride - it takes place during the summer, not the fall.
Summary: Harry just can't catch a break.

2 weeks later.

Harry sat in his chair at 4:45 on Friday, looking vaguely out the window.

Malfoy strolled in, interrupting his reverie. Looking at him shuffling through paper, Harry decided, as he had so many, many times before, to do something incredibly foolish.

“So how about the cinema again tonight?”

Malfoy stopped moving completely and shot Harry a withering glare. “Potter,” Malfoy began, “celebrity only goes so far in protecting you from St. Mungos. They’ll come for you eventually, you know.”

Harry ignored this. “What do you say?”

“I thought I had made my opinion of Muggle entertainment very clear.”

“But this is one is different,” said Harry, attempting to sound convincing. “It’s a horror film.”

Malfoy stared. “And?”

Harry was at a loss – he thought that the horror element was compelling enough. “It’s completely different than a comedy. They’re not, er, presuming to make you laugh. Although, sometimes if they’re really bad they make you laugh a bit completely unintentionally-“

“I don’t care, Potter,” Malfoy cut in, “and your fixation on Muggle entertainment baffles me. Is this some sort of coping therapy?”

Harry ignored this, and began to bargain somewhat desperately. “You can whinge about Muggles on the walk back.”

Malfoy seemed to consider this.

“Yes, well,” said Harry, starting to feel anxious in the presence of a thoughtful Malfoy, “I’ll see you at 6:30, then?”

“See you,” said Malfoy, most unenthusiastically.

************************************************************************

Malfoy turned the corner down of Harry’s street five minutes late.

Seeing Malfoy turn this corner was slightly awkward. Harry could see him walking but didn’t go to meet him because they’d be walking in the opposite direction. Thus, Harry had to sit and watch Malfoy walk up the long road to his stoop while not seeming like he was staring. Malfoy finally arrived and looked up at him expectantly. Harry noticed that Malfoy’s hair was almost iridescent under the street lamp.

“Well?” Malfoy said impatiently.

“Oh, yes,” said Harry, snapping out of it, “let’s be off, shall we?”

************************************************************************

‘I have truly abysmal taste in films,’ Harry gloomily reflected later in the cinema, as the killer doll cackled at his own terrible pun. This was worse than the comedy, and actually had some of the audience snickering, but not Harry. He checked his watch and leaned back, sighing.

Malfoy jumped in his seat as the doll flew previously unseen into the front seat of a car to stab the driver, cackling maniacally. ‘On second thought,” Harry thought, watching Malfoy collect himself, ‘I can stand another hour or so.’

************************************************************************

Malfoy was silent for a few minutes on the walk back, which made it especially surprising when he burst out, “Muggles are sick, violent creatures. They should be exterminated.”

Harry was startled, but chalked that up as a success. If the movie had bothered Malfoy to the point of cursing Muggles instead of ridiculing them, it’d done its job. Harry thought it was sort of amazing that a ridiculous killer doll scared Malfoy after well...everything.

“Malfoy, it was just a doll,” Harry began.

“To the dunderheaded Muggles! In case you forgot, which you must’ve, seeing as you come here so often, we’re wizards and that sort of thing isn’t out of the realm of possibilities! Wizards could DO this - ”

Harry started blinking really fast and his mouth was twitching. Malfoy noticed, and glared furiously. “You don’t know everything about this world yet, Potter! I know you grew up with that Muggle family-“

“Malfoy,” said Harry in a voice that came out strange from trying not to laugh, “even the pieces of Voldermort’s soul couldn’t jump out of corners. We had to go looking for them.”

Malfoy pursed his mouth and decided not to pursue the matter. Just as well, seeing as how Harry had opened an awkward topic of conversation.

The awkward silence lasted until they at last came to Harry’s door. “Good night, Malfoy,” said Harry, not all together gracefully. “Thanks for coming with me to the cinema.” He tried to sound as sincere as possible. He really was shite at all of this stuff.

Malfoy stared at him stonily. “I’m going to charm some Muggle doll evil for this. It will be waiting for you in a darkened corner of your office.”

Harry was taken aback for a second, before he saw the tiniest twitch of Malfoy’s lips. “Good night, Potter,” Malfoy said and then turned to leave. Harry watched him go, then walked inside.

************************************************************************

1 week later

It was Friday, and Harry wanted to go to the cinema again. This time he’d actually done some research so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself. Knowing his luck though, this might be the one that all of the critics got wrong. He looked up when he heard his door open.

“Malfoy,” he said, “cinema tonight?”

Malfoy looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m busy tonight.”

Oh. Harry felt a little numb. “Alright,” said Harry. “Have fun then.” He didn’t even try very hard to sound enthusiastic this time. Malfoy hesitated a second before turning around, which suddenly prompted Harry to remember that there were more nights to a weekend than just Friday.

“How about tomorrow?” Harry blurted out.

Malfoy stopped. “I can hardly wait,” he said in a completely flat voice.

************************************************************************

That night Harry sat at his house feeling restless. He could call Ron, but he’d seen Ron yesterday and didn’t feel like getting pissed, as Ron was wont to do once he was out from under Hermione’s watch. At any rate, he thought, watching the sun burn brighter before setting, he needed to get out of the house.

He decided to go to the Muggle part of the town. He’d lived in London for about 6 months, but really had only been out in the wizard section.

Picking out some comfortable Muggle clothes, he realized that without the Glamour he’d actually have to make some sort of effort with his hair. He put some gel in it that he kept around sheerly for experimental purposes and looked in the mirror. As usual it was a failed experiment, and he had to climb in the shower to wash it out. Settling on his normal non-style style, he grabbed his keys and rechecked his wards before leaving.

************************************************************************

Harry eventually wandered onto a busy street, walking slower than everyone else and gawking up at the buildings. It wasn’t that he’d never seen Muggle London before, but he’d never paid attention to the scene. The concentration of people was almost overwhelming. People were spilling out of pubs, drunk and laughing and not walking straight.

It wasn’t the exact same scene everywhere though. He noticed that it changed the further he walked. In some places there were mostly people in business suits. On other streets were people who looked more like students walking in and out of dark looking bars and music blaring so loud that he could hear it in the street.

Eventually he reached a part that was incredibly crowded, and noted that the human landscape had changed once again. Namely, that it was composed of almost all men. He also saw some people who looked like women, but sounded like men. There were signs hung everywhere that read “Happy Pride!”

He walked past a small circle of people gathered around some man in a business suit getting spanked on the street by a woman (maybe) in a leather outfit. He’d only seen things like this in films.

“Hey sweetheart, you look lonely tonight,” said a voice suddenly close to him. He turned around to see one of the men (women?) in the leather outfits grinning at him, hitting the whip against his (her?) hand. “I’m fine, thanks,” croaked Harry, completely uncomfortable with the fact that her (his?) hand was on his arm. Attempting to disengage he looked around, and saw something that made his heart stop.

A white-blond head was bobbing through the crowd.

Harry could only stare as he saw Malfoy semi-stumbling into an open space in the street, his voice loud enough that Harry could hear him talking to someone behind him, though for the crowds Harry couldn’t see who it was. Suddenly he saw Malfoy’s arm disappear into a crowd and yank out a dark haired man whom Harry didn’t recognize. The man was dressed rather ridiculously, in a purple shirt and white pants. Malfoy was in a black shirt and jeans.

“You’re fucking pissed,” Malfoy said, sounding fairly pissed himself.

“M’ not pissed,” the man slurred happily. “But wanna go back.”

“No, we’re going,” Malfoy said, grabbing the man’s arm.

“Don’ wanna,” the man pouted, “Bloody stupid-“

“How would you even know, you’ve never been before.”

“Wanna shag…”

Suddenly Malfoy yanked the man close to his chest and smashed their mouths together. The world narrowed to Harry then; he had the sensation that he wasn’t in his own body anymore.

The man’s arms twined around Malfoy, one hand slipping under his shirt and showing
some of Malfoy’s side. Malfoy grabbed fistfuls of the man’s hair, yanking his head back and opening his own mouth wide, sucking on his neck. Everyone else was just walking by them, no one was even watching, no one was even looking at them but Harry.

Freak, a voice whispered inside his head.

Malfoy continued to gnaw on the man’s neck, opening his eyes when he got to the base. He froze mid bite when his eyes connected with Harry’s over the man’s shoulder. Suddenly he shoved the man away, hard enough that the purple shirt man almost fell over. “Malfoy, wha’ the fuck,” the man tried to sound indignant, but his voice just slurred more. “One second,” Malfoy snapped, still staring at Harry.

Then Malfoy was marching directly over to Harry. Harry’s breathing tripled and his heart was beating so fast he felt like it was going to explode, but he still couldn’t move. Suddenly Malfoy was directly in his face and grabbing his arm.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Potter,” Malfoy hissed.

“Nothing,” said Harry defensively, surprised that he could even talk.

“What do you mean, nothing,” Malfoy said, grabbing his arm harder, “You just happened to find your way HERE?” he said, head jerking towards one of the more graphic “Pride” signs.

“Yes,” said Harry, still rather shocked, “I was walking through London and I just kept on walking, I honestly have no idea where anything is-” Harry suddenly stopped babbling. He didn’t owe Malfoy an explanation. “What do you think, that I followed you here?” Harry asked, injecting as much righteous indignation into his tone as possible.

Malfoy immediately let go and stepped back, eyes bright and wide. He still looked furious. Harry saw the dark haired man over the top of Malfoy's shoulder, walking in vague circles with an unfocused look.

Then he looked back to Malfoy’s face, a feeling of inexplicable guilt growing.

Malfoy turned around to leave and Harry had to say something. “Malfoy,” Harry said grabbing his arm. Malfoy reflexively yanked his arm back and kept walking rather quickly but Harry was going to have his say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He said loudly to Malfoy’s retreating form.

Malfoy stopped and turned around, his eyes piercing Harry’s. Harry didn’t flinch. “Fine,” Malfoy said finally, striding across the street to grab his pottering friend. “We’re going back,” Harry heard Malfoy say harshly.

“Thought we were going in ‘ere,” his friend said, jerking his head sloppily in the direction of the door in front of him.

“Well, now we’re not,” Malfoy snapped, pulling him back through the crowd without a second look at Harry.

It was only then that Harry realized they had been standing in front of some sort of cinema, an X-rated cinema from the look of it. He looked away quickly.

************************************************************************

Harry finally crawled into his bed feeling numb, and he could do nothing except think about what had happened. He tried to banish the thought of it, but the scene kept aggressively replaying itself over and over again. Every detail was clear, including the part where Malfoy approached him afterwards. The guilt he’d felt before had grown into a deep shame on the walk home, which he didn’t understand.

He hadn’t gone out looking for Malfoy. Malfoy would’ve gawked at him too if he’d seen Harry…doing... Harry swallowed painfully. He wished fervently that he hadn’t seen that. He wished he hadn’t gone out. He wished more than anything in that moment that he could just have normal problems, like perhaps a girlfriend who was sleeping with her boss.

************************************************************************

The next day Harry felt like he was awaiting his execution. He’d woken up and stretched, and then promptly dropped his limbs onto the bed when he remembered what had happened. As angry as Malfoy was, Harry wasn’t even sure that he’d come tonight.

At 6:00 he felt like he could wait no longer, and got in the shower.

At 6:30 on the dot he waited outside his apartment. And waited. And waited. By 6:50 he had concluded that Malfoy wasn’t coming, when he saw a blond head bobbing in the street, walking towards him.

Harry swallowed as Malfoy came more into focus, his face set. “Hi Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to sound normal.

The Movies 1/6

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 22:42:15 GMT

Title: The Movies
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister and my best friend for all of their loving support. Also, this contains references to movies that weren't all in theaters at the same time. Bear with me. :)
Summary: Harry just can't catch a break.

Harry came out of interrogation room perturbed. He hated Veristaserum, but he’d consented to the monthly checks because special treatment in this office made him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the terrified faces of his monthly interrogators made him acutely uncomfortable, as well. (Nothing, however, made him quite as uncomfortable as the stares that he received on a daily basis from everyone in this department.)

He sat down at his desk and sighed. He contemplated for the millionth time why he was working there, coming to the same conclusion: it was unavoidable, for now. The left over Death Eaters were still looking for him, and while him being an Auror in the field would lure the very people the Ministry needed to catch, his division heads felt that the risk (to his own life and the lives of others) outweighed the reward. Therefore, he was stuck in this enormously boring mid-level Ministry job until some of the dust cleared, surrounded by people who treated him like a circus freak.

The work wasn’t hard and he had lots of free time, but his friends were already situated in higher-level jobs, which meant they worked late hours constantly. What good was having time off to see a movie if none of your friends could come with you?

The squeak of his door opening interrupted his thoughts, causing Harry to look up. Malfoy shuffled in, stopping a couple of steps inside his office to search through his stack of papers. Malfoy had started working there shortly after Harry - about a year ago. The main reason Harry put up with Malfoy was because Malfoy was the only one who wasn’t terrified of him. For this Harry tried, for the most part, to be civil. “So Malfoy,” he started, “excited about the weekend?”

Malfoy kept shuffling through his papers “I suppose so,” he responded in a monotone voice.

“Any plans yet?” Harry continued.

“I don’t know. Why do you want to know, Potter?” was his slightly irritated reply, as he continued to rifle through the stack.

‘What’s his problem?’ Harry thought with slight agitation. “I’m just curious.”

“Curious, are you?” Malfoy responded, still shuffling. “May I inquire why?” He asked, a bit of sarcasm in his tone.

“I was thinking that I want to go the cinema and that you’re the only one in this office I can stand.” Harry’s response had been so quick and natural that it didn’t dawn on him what’d he actually done for a second. Promptly though, he was mortified. The FUCKING Veritaserum…

Evidently he’d stunned Malfoy into silence. Before he could think about it, Harry heard himself babble on inanely, “I like comedies myself, and there was one that I’ve been thinking about seeing for awhile--”

“Potter, are you ill?” Malfoy interrupted caustically.

“No,” Harry responded, feeling deeply compelled to explain himself further, but luckily the truth serum had weakened to the point that he could fight it if he really concentrated. Admitting he had taken Veritaserum was really the only thing that could make this situation more mortifying at this point.

Malfoy was staring at him as if Harry was something grotesque that he didn’t want to get too close to.

“Are you available?” Harry asked, dignity starting to wither. No point stopping now.

“You want us to go to the cinema together?” Malfoy repeated, almost accusingly this time.

“Yes.” That wasn’t exactly what Harry had said; but apparently, it was the truth.

More silence. Then finally, “Good God, Potter. Are you that bereft of friends? There’s an army of people who I’m sure would be just delighted to accompany the ‘Man-who-lived’ to the cinema.”

The mention of the recent article embarrassed Harry. Struggling to control the impulse to reveal his innermost thoughts, Harry rambled on, “Ron and Hermione are visiting her family. Seamus is away for training and Dean is in Bulgaria.”

A couple of seconds more of silence, then an incredulous snort. “Did you have a particular day in mind?” Malfoy asked, his tone dripping sarcasm.

It took Harry a second to realize that Malfoy was humoring him.

“Tonight,” he said automatically.

“Tonight?”

“Yes,” Harry said, still barely believing he was having this conversation. “The films usually start at seven.”

Malfoy blinked. Harry hastily went on, “We could meet outside of my flat at 6:30. There aren’t any close Apparition points to the cinema, but it’s only a fifteen minute walk.” More silence. Harry wished Malfoy would just leave, and stop asking questions.

But Malfoy was still staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Potter,” Malfoy said finally, “unlike what I’m sure is a disturbingly large number of people, I don’t know where you live.”

“Oh, right,” Harry continued, still feeling the horrible compulsion to speak without thinking, “10 Brown Street.” He waited a couple of beats and then added, “So, I’ll see you at uh 6:30, then?”

“It seems that way,” Malfoy replied, sarcasm tingeing his voice.

“Well, alright,” Harry said, before he had a somewhat distressing thought. “Malfoy, do you by any chance have any Muggle clothes? Because you will need to wear-“

“I’m aware of that, Potter.”

“Right. So, see you then,” Harry said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It came out rather odd, tonally.

Malfoy blinked again then turned to go out of the office. Right when he got to the door he stopped a second; then, setting his shoulders he turned around and walked back to Harry’s desk. Now Harry was bewildered. “Yes?” He asked, fearing what Malfoy could possibly have to say.

Malfoy, instead, thrust out a memo towards him. “From the Transportation Department,” he said through slightly clenched teeth.

Oh. Harry took the memo.

************************************************************************

At 6:30 Harry stood fidgeting outside of his apartment, still dazed from what had transpired and what would soon. It was cold and slightly misty - just enough to be miserable.

After about five minutes of shifting back and forth, looking at his watch, and in vain trying to think of something to do while waiting, he spotted someone who appeared to be walking right towards him. Yes, that was him – tall and blond and uncomfortable looking.

Harry had never seen Malfoy in Muggle clothes before, but as he approached Harry, he noticed that Malfoy looked normal, which for a wizard was an incredible accomplishment. Just a nice jumper and jeans and dress shoes. Well done. He wanted to compliment Malfoy on his effort, but he had a feeling it would be wasted praise.

“So,” said Harry, “ready to go?”

“I guess,” replied Malfoy, completely without enthusiasm. Fifteen minutes suddenly seemed like an eternity to walk next to Malfoy.

After about five minutes of awkward silence Harry had a mad urge to say, “Lovely weather we’re having!” But Malfoy wasn’t really worth the effort for a lie of that scale, so he kept walking.

Finally they were in front of the cinema. Malfoy, who normally had sort of a loping stride, slowed down, and hung slightly back. Harry stopped to squint at the titles and times, and Malfoy stopped with him. “What do you fancy tonight?” said Harry, scanning when everything started.

“This is your party, Potter.”

Harry decided on a comedy – he had been telling the truth of course, when he’d told Malfoy that there was a comedy he had wanted to see.

Harry paid for both tickets then turned and extended his hand to Malfoy with his ticket in it. Malfoy made a face at him. “Good God Potter, I’m not destitute. I can afford my own bloody ticket.”

“I know!” said Harry hastily. “But I invited you.” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

They went into the neon lobby of the cinema, Malfoy hanging back again. “Would you like some popcorn?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling hysterical. Malfoy’s eyes were blank for a second, then he shrugged.

“Just wait there,” Harry told him. Once in line, Harry tried to casually glance back at Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes were open a bit wide, and he was staring around at everything, even the ceiling. It occurred to Harry that maybe Malfoy hadn’t been to many movies, or any movies at all.

Finally he returned with a big tub of popcorn and two cokes. “Do you like Coke?” Harry asked dumbly. There was a blank expression for a second time, then a resigned “Whatever, Potter.”

Malfoy made sure to go behind Harry when they walked into the hall where the theater was. When ticket man asked for Malfoy’s, Malfoy had to dig frantically in his back pocket for it. After the man tore his ticket Malfoy stopped dead, looking down at it.

“This way, Malfoy.” Harry said, trying to urge him along. He didn’t want Malfoy to call any sort of attention to himself by acting… strange. Finally they went into the theater and Malfoy was still looking at his ticket stub. “Where the bloody hell do we sit?” He asked in a frustrated voice.

“Wherever we want,” Harry said, a bit bewildered.

“Oh,” said Malfoy with a scowl, shoving the stub back in his pocket.

It was still early, and the lights were still on. Harry made himself comfortable as he could be, leaning back in his seat. Malfoy was stiff as a board, staring in rapt attention at the screen. One of those sparkly, silent advertisements for Coke was on. Harry wondered if Malfoy was going to look like a statue all night.

Malfoy jumped a foot when the sound boomed to life and the lights dimmed. Harry’s mouth twitched.

************************************************************************

The movie, unfortunately, was rubbish. Malfoy wasn’t laughing much, especially since a lot of the humor came from references to specifically Muggle things and places. Malfoy did, however, squawk at blowjob joke from an elderly character, then immediately pinched his face up like he’d sucked a lemon.

Harry stared, startled. He didn’t think ever in his life that he’d heard Malfoy laugh. Well, laugh at something that was actually funny, and not tragic or cruel. It was bizarre.

The rest of the movie followed a smiliar pattern. Malfoy put on his best bored face until something shocked him out of it. Harry started watching Malfoy’s reactions more than the movie.

************************************************************************

“So what did you think?” asked Harry after, walking alongside Malfoy in the misty misery that was London fall weather. “Rubbish,” Malfoy replied without looking at him, kicking a can out of his way.

“Rubbish that you deigned to laugh at.” Harry couldn’t help but feel a little huffy even though he’d thought the movie sucked, as well.

Malfoy scowled. “Since when do you talk, Potter? I think I rather prefer the deaf mute you impersonate at the Ministry. You act as if something is dreadfully wrong with you, you know.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, affronted.

“I’m just saying there are special places for you people,” Malfoy said, clearly relishing the change in topic. “And it’s actually quite frightening when you go about staring at people without saying anything.”

“I do talk to people!”

“To whom?” asked Malfoy pointedly. “Seeing as how you asked ME to accompany you to the cinema.” Harry wanted to defend himself by saying he was on truth serum, but then remembered once again that it only indicted him further. “I’m sure even the most socially inept squib could have found companions for the cinema other than an old school enemy-”

“I don’t consider you an enemy anymore.” Harry interrupted.

“I know,” Malfoy said after a beat, sounding especially bitter. They were both silent for a moment. Much sooner than Harry thought they’d arrived at his flat. He hesitated before going in.

“Well, er, see you Monday, Malfoy.” Harry said, turning to face Malfoy when they arrived at his door.

Malfoy pursed his lips. “See you, Potter.”

Malfoy walked away rather abruptly. Harry watched him leave, and then opened his door.

Part 2: http://annamaheba.livejournal.com/1742.html#cutid1

************************************************************************

Harry's Detour 3/?

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 05:55:31 GMT

Title: Harry's Detour 3/?
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3000
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister for all of her loving support. And, one sentence is a direct quote from the Half-Blood Prince
Summary: So what other private moments did Harry witness while stalking Draco? Takes place during the Half-Blood Prince (although, for the sake of not violating the TOS both are of age at this time)

The wind took the breath of Harry after he stumbled out of the storeroom. He’d left some of his equipment in there but the thought of turning back made his stomach bottom out, there was just absolutely no way… his eyes blurred in the wind as he walked vaguely in the direction of the castle, as numb in his mind as he was in his extremities.

When he pushed the door open, he was overwhelmed by the warmth and light. ‘It must about time for dinner,’ he thought, the only person who seemed to be moving away from the Great Hall.

Harry didn’t want to eat. The thought of facing everyone in his house seemed unbearable.

“Hi Harry!”

Hermione had apparated out of nowhere, he was sure of it.

“Where have you been? You look exhausted,” she said, her brow furrowing a little bit.

“Practice,” Harry answered immediately, “Then I did a few extra laps.”

Hermione did not look impressed. “Have you even started your essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

‘Essay?’ He thought.

“You know...” Hermione started slowly, “the paper about the medieval use of Dark Magic.”

Oh…damn. “Ah, no… it’s due tomorrow, is it?” He said, dread piling up like bricks his stomach.

“Yeah,” responded Hermione, looking slightly apologetic. “I know you have a lot on your mind, Harry,” began Hermione, “but you really don’t need to give Professor Snape another reason to -”

“Yeah,” said Harry absently, attempting to disengage, “I’m ah, going to go start on it right now, so I don’t have to stay up half the night doing it.”

“That’s good Harry, you need to sleep more, “ Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah...” Harry had already turned around and was walking back to his dorm.

Oddly enough, the reminder about the paper had made him feel a bit better. When he had been outside it had seemed like he was in another world, one where it was within the realm of normal that he and Draco had actually had sex. In this world though, it was unthinkable. Hell - he could almost pretend it hadn’t happened. Malfoy certainly wasn’t going to make it an issue
Harry ended up going to dinner after all. After the first few bites he was able to eat normally, and laugh and talk with his friends almost normally. ‘It’s ok,’ he thought, chewing on his food ‘I haven’t done anything irrevocably stupid yet.’ He was almost able to forget about it completely.

*****************************************************************

Three weeks later

Harry pushed a little bit on Draco’s shoulders trying to get him on he knees, dazed.

He felt dread when he saw Malfoy in the broom shed that night, even though if he was honest with himself he knew that he’d eventually run into him again. Malfoy had grabbed his face and kissed him, and Harry let it happen.

However, now Harry was getting impatient - if he didn’t get inside soon he was going to come like a twat. Malfoy furrowed his brow.

“Wait a second, Potter,” Draco said, “that’s how we did things last time.”

Harry blinked. Was there any other way to do things?

Seeing his blank expression, Malfoy clarified, “You’re getting buggered this time.”

Oh….no. “No,” Harry said out loud. No way. There was absolutely no way. Harry didn’t care that it wasn’t fair.

Instead of getting angry, though, Malfoy smirked triumphantly. “The Gryffindor courage has dried up through the generations, has it?” He grinned, teeth glinting in the faint light.

“I’m not scared!” Harry snapped. “I just…I don’t want to do that with you.”

Malfoy stared a moment, surprised, then snorted incredulously. “Why don’t you just put out an ad in the Daily Prophet then? Besides, what are you – some sort of woman? Would a bit of candlelight help?”

Harry was furious. “Sod off, Malfoy,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’m going.”

“Oy Potter,” Harry could hear Malfoy’s mocking voice behind him, “You are such a girl!”

Harry walked faster, clenching his fists. What he really wanted to do was turn around and punch Malfoy in the face. In fact, the more he thought about it the better of an idea it seemed - “Oh, hold up one second, ONE SECOND POTTER.”

Harry stopped and turned around. It wasn’t too late to punch him. Draco had caught up to him and stopped. “We don’t have to do exactly that first.” Malfoy’s voice sounded flat.

Harry raised his hands up into the air. “Oh really? What do you suggest then?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

Harry attempted to turn around again, but Malfoy reached out and grabbed his bare wrist in an iron grip, pulling him back. “God you really are a hopeless moron, Potter. Haven’t you ever,” Draco looked frustrated having to talk about something so awkward, “ever tried sticking something up there? You know, I suppose you’d have to dig around a bit what with everyone’s head being up there too-”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

Draco rolled his eyes contemptuously. “I knew it.”

“Why would I have?” Harry snapped. He wanted to add ‘that’s disgusting,’ but was reminded forcefully that he very much liked sticking another part of himself up into that same area.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment, miraculously, then in a measured voice said, “Kneel down on your hands and knees on the pads.”

“I told you, I’m not doing that!”

“Did I SAY anything about buggering? Good God, stop bleating like a first year Hufflepuff.”

Harry crossed his arms. He still didn’t know what Draco was talking about, he didn’t want to sit there not knowing what was going to happen – hell with that.

“For God’s sakes Potter, just get on the pads and take off your trousers. There will be no buggering - no matter what you’ve been led to believe, your arse just isn’t that irresistible.”

Harry scowled at him. He could just leave right now. No doubt it would humiliate Malfoy utterly, forever. But something masochistic in him kept him there.

Turning around and feeling more awkward than he’d ever felt in his life, he unfastened his trousers and slid them down his legs with his underwear, concentrating hard on not tripping. Finally they were off, and he straightened himself up, feeling the cold air on the lower part of his body for the first time in awhile.

And suddenly felt too humiliated to move. There was no way he could turn around and face Malfoy. There was no way that he could get on his knees.

“This is hell,” Harry concluded, squinting hard into the corner of the room, “I’ve died, and this is hell, and this is the retribution for everything wrong in my life that I’ve ever done –“ Suddenly though, Malfoy was mumbling and all of the lights went out. Harry’s other senses immediately sharpened, and his breathing got faster when he felt Malfoy moving behind him, the heat of Draco’s cock now trapped awkwardly between Harry’s back and Malfoy’s stomach. Malfoy was naked. “Potter,” Malfoy rasped in his ear, “just fucking kneel down on the pads.”

Harry finally caved, awkwardly dropping his angular frame onto his hands and knees, scooting backwards until his hands and knees were on the padding.

Harry couldn’t see or feel Malfoy now, though, and that made him extremely nervous, like he was waiting for an execution or an ambush in the dark. Then he felt lips and teeth and tongue on his back. Out of surprise and oversensitivity, he gasped.

Malfoy’s lips closed around a piece of skin and sucked, and Harry felt himself grow hard again, finally. Malfoy sucked the skin then stuck out his tongue and traced a line down his spine. It made Harry’s hair stand on end, the farther he got the more sensitive the skin became. Harry became a little bit nervous when the tongue reached the end of his back.

Then Malfoy’s tongue went directly in between his arse cheeks.

WHAT WAS MALFOY DOING?

Harry didn’t want this, whatever it was. He’d almost rather Malfoy fuck his arse now. Was that the plan? To make him so uncomfortable he’d beg Malfoy to fuck him rather endure this extremely unique form of torture?

“Potter,” said Draco, sounding like he was trying to keep his temper in check, “relax.”

Relax? Bugger that, Malfoy was LOOKING at him – it was disgusting, why was Malfoy doing this, it was completely weird and –

Suddenly Malfoy roughly parted his arse cheeks with his hands and licked one long line in the middle of his arsehole. The shock was enough to disconnect him from the situation and render him completely still. Draco kept him open and licked him again, slower this time, sticking his tongue in Harry’s – he couldn’t even think about it. He shut his eyes tighter

Then Malfoy’s tongue traveled lower, lapping the skin on the back of Harry’s balls. Harry couldn’t hold himself on his hands anymore, he collapsed on his elbows, hiding his face. His glasses were pressing into his temple. Harry could feel Malfoy’s knees shifting around between his legs and felt Malfoy’s whole body scoot closer to him, felt is rough stubble rubbing against his arse.

Harry could feel his own cock now, hanging heavy and neglected between his thighs. He still felt strange, but Malfoy’s tongue had developed a rhythm and Harry was getting used to the feeling of a tongue in there. Sort of.

Then he felt the rough pads of Draco’s fingers inching towards his arsehole. He tensed all over again, more than before. Malfoy felt it.

“Relax, Potter,” he snapped, then huffed, leaning back. “You know, tossing myself off would be preferable to dealing with the likes of you, a mentally and apparently sexually handicapped moron who doesn’t even LIKE – “

“I didn’t say that,” said Harry through gritted teeth. He couldn’t feeling like Malfoy’s comment was some sort of challenge.

Malfoy was still for a moment, then left Harry. Harry nervously wondered where he’d gone until he heard the familiar squelching sounds of the lube, setting off alarm bells in Harry’s head. ‘Malfoy said he wouldn’t, not even Malfoy would do something like that, he’d be an idiot – ‘

Then he felt a slimy finger, just a finger, poking around his arsehole, looking for the entrance. Harry braced himself, gripping the pads in front of him tight, screwing up his face. And then he felt possibly one of the strangest and most uncomfortable touches in his whole life. Malfoy’s finger was pushing into him and it was wiggling around INSIDE HIM, and there was pressure and friction and Malfoy was lying - this was awful.

He felt Malfoy’s finger poking into him deeper, he felt stretched and tense and he wished Malfoy would stop.

Suddenly a shock ran through his body that propelled him off his elbows onto his hands again. He was about ten seconds away from bolting.

Something had hurt, sort of. It had felt like he’d been shocked, or like how he felt when he hit his elbow on a counter.

Malfoy leaned over Harry then, letting his weight rest lightly on Harry’s back. Malfoy opened his mouth and sucked on the skin of Harry’s neck right below his ear, causing the air to leave Harry’s lungs. Then Malfoy took advantage by gradually easing his finger in further, and more hesitantly touching that same spot.

Harry hissed. It didn’t hurt this time, exactly, but it was just so intense, it was too overwhelming. Mafloy continued mouthing Harry’s neck and ear, moving his finger around, now stroking the same spot very, very lightly.

Between the stimulation to his neck and whatever was inside him, he was hard again for the third time. He felt Mafoy’s finger moving out of him a little bit and wondered what was happening when he felt a second finger stretching him further. It hurt a little bit, and his arse clenched around the finger in alarm. Malfoy didn’t stop his fingers though, they wiggled deeper again, now they were both stroking that same spot as before and Harry’s face was getting hot. After a few more seconds Harry was past the pain, he started leaning back into Malfoy’s hand. One especially sharp poke caused him to gasp and arch back. He could feel his hair touching Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Potter,” Malfoy rasped in his ear, “let me…Potter…” he continued with a tinge of desperation. Harry, mind reeling from the implication of what Malfoy was asking heard himself reply “Okay” in a numb voice.

Malfoy pulled his fingers out fluidly, but it was still too quickly and made Harry feel strange. Then he heard the lube again.

He felt Malfoy’s slimy hand on his hip, greasy with lube, and felt his arse cheeks opening again to something much bigger and blunter than a couple of fingers. “This is going to hurt,” thought Harry. Malfoy’s cock was getting closer, then finally Harry felt warmth then the tip of Malfoy’s cock stretching his arsehole.

It hurt a lot. Harry gasped and tried to pull away put Malfoy held him steady, his hand shaking against his hip.

When Harry was steady, Malfoy let go of Harry’s hips and leaned over him again, one hand reaching underneath Harry to find his cock. Harry’s eyes snapped open when he felt Malfoy’s slippery fingers grabbing his cock, trying to make a tight fist around it. As well as he could, Malfoy starting stroking it. It was slow, but it made him forget about the stabbing pain in there. It receded much quicker than he thought it would.

Sensing that Harry wasn’t going to run away anymore, Malfoy lifted himself upright again, and grabbed Harry’s hips. He took a moment to center himself up, then quickly pushed in to his balls. Harry’s eyes bulged open at the feeling. It wasn’t painful exactly, but it was uncomfortable. He felt the sparse hair on Malfoy’s abdomen scratching lightly against his back as Malfoy adjusted his position. When he really was in as deep as possible, Malfoy let out a shakey breath.

Leaning back on his hauches, Malfoy pulled some of his cock out of Harry’s arse. The feeling made Harry flush. Then Malfoy pushed all the way in again, grinding his hips up and down against Harry’s arse when he was at the hilt, looking for that spot. Soon, Malfoy found it.

Satisfied upon hearing Harry’s groan, Draco pulled out and tried to reach the spot again. Draco pushed in again, then again, his rhythm gradually increasing. Harry could hear Malfoy’s breathing getting heavy in the darkness. After a few more thrusts Harry pushed himself back a little, he wanted more against that spot, but it was so hard to match Malfoy’s rhythm. Noticing his efforts Malfoy grunted and put both hands on Harry’s hips, thrusting in deeper than before, almost doubling the rhythm. He was hitting it almost every time now. Harry remembered Malfoy’s actions from last time, and awkwardly stuck his hand underneath himself to fist his own cock.

Harry felt electrified, his balls tightening all the way to his stomach, he was tensing so much he felt like his body was going to collapse in on itself.

Meanwhile could feel Malfoy’s hands squeezing his hips tighter, and he was banging his hips into Harry’s arse so forcefully now, Harry was having to grip the pads tight with his one free hand because they were moving forwards, they were almost off the pads, it was coming fast now…

“Oh FUCK,” Malfoy hissed. “oh fuck, oh my god,” he held tight to Harry’s hips, shaking, while Harry felt the last few jerky stabs inside him. Malfoy must be coming.

Harry felt like something did collapse inside him then. He made an almost anguished sound, jerked himself as hard as he could, sweating a little bit from the effort while the arm holding him up shook. Finally he gasped, and came all over his hand.

When he came to, he was sort of surprised to find himself in the same position he had been in. That is, on his hands and knees and Malfoy still, well, inside. Malfoy’s grip had slackened on his hips and he was just breathing. Harry, feeling paralyzed again for no reason, stayed still, moving only to wipe his hand on the edge of the pad. Finally Malfoy slid his limp cock out of Harry, and instead of casting cleaning charms like last time, collapsed on his back onto the pad next to him in the darkness, saying nothing. Harry flipped over so that he was on his back also. He could feel Draco’s body heat, but was not touching him.

They laid like this in silence. Harry was so tired he couldn’t even summon enough hatred of himself or Malfoy to appropriately weight the situation. Malfoy was noticeably quiet.

Stretching a little bit, Harry’s hand accidently brushed Malfoy’s. They both jumped at the contact.

Harry's Detour 2/?

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 00:04:55 GMT

Title: Harry's Detour 2/?
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3000
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Authors notes: Thanks to my wonderful sister for all of her loving support. And, one sentence is a direct quote from the Half-Blood Prince
Summary: So what other private moments did Harry witness while stalking Draco? Takes place during the Half-Blood Prince (although, for the sake of not violating the TOS both are of age at this time)

After his surreal encounter with Malfoy, it was almost impossible to avoid thinking about it. Images from their encounter would flash through his mind violently, incapacitating him for a moment or two. These particularly vivid flashbacks seemed to occur precisely when it was most inconvenient: Quidditch practice, when Hermione was taking time away from her homework to explain to Harry a lesson that he himself had dozed through, when Snape was saying anything at all – the list went on and on. He didn’t mean to, but the thought just kept finding cracks to slip through.

It didn’t help that every day, with increasing and borderline obsessive frequency, he would unroll the map to see where Malfoy was. Late at night, careful not to trip in the pitch black, he would point his lit wand to the bottom of his trunk, quietly unrolling the map just enough to see the dungeon, and if Malfoy was there or not. Malfoy, however, never seemed to be up to much of anything – not even late night trips to the 6th floor bathroom. Harry was starting to doubt his interpretation of the events on the train. Maybe Hermione and Ron were right and Malfoy was just being a dumb prat like always. But Harry wondered.

On one particular day, Snape was delivering an especially gripping lecture about some jinx or another, boring even, he thought, Hermione. Harry tipped his head back, then checked his watch again for the second time in 15 minutes, wishing idly for the realization of Neville’s Rikkolus spell.

While dazedly staring around the room, Harry spotted pale blond out of the corner of his eye, causing his stomach to drop violently. In a flash he saw Malfoy’s head again, bobbing back and forth, his nose touching Harry’s stomach when Harry’s cock was all the way down his throat… Harry’s eyes closed against the feeling, cock twitching in his pants.

This could not go on. Every time he thought he saw Malfoy (which was basically any time that he saw someone tall and blond) or actually saw Malfoy, he was thrust into the memory again. It had to stop.

But it didn’t. The memory managed to taint everything that he did - the food in the Great Hall and games of Exploding Snap were uncomfortable when he saw Ron and Hermione giggling with him, completely unaware of what he’d done. He knew they were his best friends and would probably forgive him eventually, but they’d be so disappointed…and disgusted. Ron maybe wouldn’t want to speak to him – and Harry couldn’t blame him.

Plus, as of now, Harry hadn't even told anyone that he was gay. He’d only gotten past denying it to himself, and now accepted it like every other piece of shit luck that had come his way. However, he occasionally panicked at the thought of having to admit it to anyone. Apparently Malfoy wasn’t keen on telling people, either. Although Harry still didn’t know all that much about pureblood culture (only that a significant number of them were apparently disgusting bigots), he knew enough to guess that an only son who happened to be gay would not be a welcome revelation to his parents – a gay son can’t produce more little purebloods, after all. His father would probably consider disowning him. Harry wondered what it would be like having a secret that could possibly cause your parents to love you less, even if you had parents as evil as Malfoy’s. Considering this, Harry felt the tiniest drop of pity mingled with dislike.

Despite his fixation, though, it hadn’t really occurred to Harry to actually contact Malfoy again. No matter how desperately he sometimes wanted another… round, he could not fathom actually asking Malfoy for it. He wouldn’t even know how to go about it. Owl him? Pop into the dungeon high-fiving Pansy on his way to Malfoy’s room? No, it was completely impossible, besides being a generally horrible idea – he resolved to suffer.

***********************************************************************

And suffer he did. Watching Ron and Lavender’s sloppy love shows in the common room, watching Dean fret over Ginny, seeing all of the other stupid, careless relationships caused him great resentment. He’d never have that – he’d never have anything remotely close to that. He’d had almost-sex, finally, but now he couldn’t even have that anymore.

Within a couple of weeks he’d become so preoccupied, both with sexual frustration and anger at himself for the object of said sexual frustration, that he’d taken to doing extra laps after Quidditch practice to relieve some of the tension. The team admired him for being such a committed captain, reminding Harry anew how much he hated lying.

After one particularly vigorous session of flying, Harry dismounted and gathered all of his equipment with him, trying his best to focus. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he hauled his broom and his Quidditch pads to the equipment room to get some polish – the extra practice, while doing wonders for his speed, also taking a toll on his broom.

Putting on his glasses, he fiddled around for the handle on the door in grey light, finally pushing the door open – only to freeze. There, staring at him wide-eyed in the middle of opening a can of polish, was Malfoy. Harry stood there dumbly, feeling rather glued to his spot with all of his equipment still in hand. Malfoy, who seemed incapable of silence, was the first to recover.

“Close the bloody door, it’s freezing,” he snapped, looking down to concentrate on his polishing.

Harry was still for a second, wishing he could think of some reason not to do what Malfoy asked. None came, however, so he reluctantly closed the door and then, not knowing what else to do, put his stuff on the ground and sat down on the other side of the bench, crossing him arms, feeling stiff with the weight of unbearable awkwardness once again.

As much as Harry wanted to bolt, he knew that he couldn’t leave now – he wouldn’t give Malfoy the pleasure. Malfoy seemed completely absorbed in his polishing job, though, not looking up or acknowledging Harry’s presence at all.

Harry resigned himself to sitting, waiting for the polish, trying to avoid looking at Malfoy, but could not help his eyes darting sideways every few seconds. Every look at Malfoy – the real Malfoy– triggered an onslaught of images, each set more vivid than the last. The images were becoming so pervasive, so loud in his head that Harry suddenly became paranoid that Malfoy could somehow see his thoughts.

He must notice, thought Harry wildly, it must show on my face, everyone tells me that I can’t hide anything, I can’t even do Occlumency literally to save my life – Harry suddenly looked up as he heard the sound of a broom clattering to the floor, only to see Malfoy’s face directly in his own. Harry opened his mouth in surprise as Malfoy smashed his lips into Harry’s, gripping his shoulders tight.

Harry was too overwhelmed to do anything other than sit there in shock, as he felt Malfoy’s hands roughly pushing their way up his neck into his hair, tipping his head back, forcing his tongue into Harry’s mouth -

This wasn't happening.

Malfoy gripped him tighter, leaning down further and pulling Harry against his chest as much as their awkward positions would allow. At this point Harry had recovered enough to use his hands, gripping onto Malfoy’s back and shirt, pulling him over as far as he could from his sitting position, straining his neck. Suddenly, Harry felt something intensely hot at his knee, Oh God it was Malfoy’s cock through his pants, so hot that it felt like skin. At this, Harry’s hips started straining the tiniest bit off the bench as he gripped Malfoy’s waist, desperately needing friction.

Malfoy suddenly backed away, staring down at Harry. Panting, Harry looked up to meet his gaze completely at a loss, his cock tenting his pants ridiculously. Malfoy stared at him a second, and then leaned back in, suddenly much more deliberate in his movements. He kissed him again, then kneeled in front of Harry, their faces close for a second. Then Malfoy roughly pulled Harry off of the bench and on top of their Quidditch pads.

Harry wondered why Malfoy had yanked him onto the dusty floor when the bench had been fine enough, when Malfoy got on his hands and knees and crawled onto the broadest part of the pads, looking with a defiant expression over at Harry, practically daring him to say something.

Harry couldn’t believe what was happening. There was only one reason why Malfoy would be in front of him, on his hands and knees, digging a tube out of his robes (he had the lube in his robe?) and tossing the bottle back Harry. Harry caught it easily, despite his state of shock. “Shouldn’t there be spells for this?” he thought in the back of his mind while turning the tube over.

“Do you need a bloody instruction manual?” Malfoy snapped. No, he didn’t. But suddenly Harry was terrified. He knew basically what he was supposed to do, but had absolutely zero practical experience, and Malfoy did, and probably had enough to know what was horrible and what wasn’t.

With hands that lacked a normal amount of coordination, he finally managed to get the top off, squirting some of the gel into his hand. Trying not to feel self-conscious with Malfoy staring at him, he smeared the lube over himself, flinching at the cold gel against his cock.

When his cock looked shiny enough, he swallowed around his dry throat and looked up at Malfoy, who had raised up his robes, and even in the dim light he could see the naked skin Malfoy’s arse. Watching Malfoy kneeling there in the silence, waiting for him, caused his cock to harden even more.

He crawled awkwardly to where Malfoy was kneeling, watching, his breath coming exponentially faster as Malfoy spread his knees apart. Harry anxiously pulled his pants around his knees and crawled onto Malfoy’s back, his thighs pressing into the backs of Malfoy’s knees.

Once Harry was situated, he found himself frozen again. Was there a signal? Could he just – do it? His panic was welling again, there was no reason for a bout of hysteria but if Malfoy would just tell him…

Malfoy did not speak to him or even turn around, but instead reached back with his hand to guide Harry’s cock. Relieved for a moment, Harry took hold of his own greased cock and put one hand on Malfoy’s hip, positioning it inches from Malfoy’s arse.

His own hand was shaking a little as he poked his cock through Malfoy’s arse cheeks, trying to find the right place. After a couple seconds of poking on his part and squirming on Malfoy's part, he felt strong resistance and then finally felt something give, gasping as he felt himself being squeezed hot in the best way and hearing Malfoy cursing softly as Harry pushed the rest of the tip in.

He put the other greasy hand on Malfoy’s waist, now, trying to keep Malfoy steady so that he could push in as gradually as possible, steadily extending his hips forward. He froze, though, when he heard Malfoy gasp and saw his back and shoulders tense when Harry was half-way inside.

The terror, however, was only barely overriding the need to push it all the way inside, he wanted it to poke the places inside Malfoy that flipped over inside Harry when Harry let himself think about their previous encounter. But he was terrified that he’d do something mortifyingly wrong, so he kept still.

Finally, though, he heard Malfoy mumble into his bent arm,

“Good lord, Potter. Get on with it.”

Right. He carefully pushed the rest of the way in, God so good, and was rewarded with Malfoy’s back arching underneath him. He knew that image was going to be burned onto his retinas forever, whether he wanted it to or not.

He gasped as Malfoy wiggled a bit, bringing him in even deeper, the blunt head of his cock bumping deep around Malfoy’s insides.

Now buried to his balls, the skin of Malfoy’s arse warm against his stomach, Harry finally felt euphoria tempering the fear. He was in, he was actually having sex and it wasn’t a disaster yet... He thrust in a second time, carefully as the first. Malfoy gasped a little this time, and Harry didn’t think that it was possible to be as turned on as he was and not come.

On the third time he looked down and saw himself going in Malfoy. He pushed in harder the next time, pushing a grunt out of Malfoy, as well. But then Harry had to look away - the sight of Malfoy’s arse hole stretched around his cock was too much. Even after closing his eyes, the thought caused him to push in a little harder, faster.

Malfoy was panting now – panting ¬– and grunting and wiggling his arse against Harry’s hips…Harry’s brain was about to shut down. Despite the fact that he’d sped up a little bit, the pace was still too slow.

Desperate for more leverage, he leaned himself hesitantly over Malfoy’s back, putting his sticky hands on the outside of Malfoy’s elbows, his chest warm against Malfoy’s back and ruched up robes. He thrust in once, groaned and rested his forehead against Malfoy’s back. Oh this angle was good, he was so deep, deeper than before, he needed to thrust again…again..again.

Harry was rapidly losing control, his hips were moving quickly now, his hands gritty from the dust and lube, gripping the pads on the floor to make sure that he didn’t slip. Malfoy was moaning softly and continuously now into his crossed arms and lifting his arse a little higher in the air, he liked it, he actually liked what Harry was doing to him, and he was pulling on his own cock at the same time, oh this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t real –

But then Harry stopped, coming too soon, the kind of orgasm that’s more mental than physical, gradually melting his whole body. All that he could do for the next few seconds was breath.

Eventually, though, his foggy mind registered the tense muscles of Malfoy’s back and shoulders moving in a quick, stuccato beats against his chest.

Malfoy was wanking. Harry groaned a little – turned on again and ashamed that he hadn’t lasted longer. He needed to do something though - he had to take somewhat of a role in getting Malfoy off if he was going to be able to look at him again.

Remembering the first time they were like this, he leaned over even further, his chest now completely flush against Malfoy’s back, putting his mouth towards Malfoy’s ear. Malfoy’s hair tickled his nose while he in vain tried to think of something to say. Meanwhile, Malfoy’s hand was speeding up, the sweat on his back wetting the hair on Harry’s chest.

Mouth dry, Harry hesitantly traced one of the ridges of Malfoy’s ear with his tongue, causing Malfoy to lose it, cursing, thrusting hard into his own hand. Then Malfoy went completely still, and Harry’s eyes closed when he felt come pooling in the indent his knee made in the pads.

As Malfoy’s breathing evened out, Harry began to notice…things about the situation. Mainly how uncomfortable his position was. His triceps were shaking with the effort of holding himself off of Malfoy, but the bizarre, sticking sensation of feeling his own come all over his own cock (and inside Malfoy) was a little disturbing.

He pushed himself off of Malfoy’s back somewhat gracelessly, elbows cracking and cringing when his wet cock slapped against his own body, a vulgar reminder of what he’d just done. Everything ached.

Malfoy moved slowly as well, adjusting himself to a sitting position then immediately began, of all things, casting cleaning charms over himself and everything else in reach: the Quidditch pads had shiny, gritty handprints from them both; not to mention the other spots. Harry, needing something to do, started casting the charms as well.

The routine action of casting the cleaning charms enabled Harry to keep it together on the outside, but in his mind he was screaming.

What had he done? Had he lost his fucking mind? He wasn’t a virgin anymore - he’d lost his virginity to Malfoy. To Draco Malfoy.

What would Hermione say? What would Ron say? He quickly shut down this line of thought to prevent another round of hysteria.

Unable to prevent it, Harry chanced a look at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy caught his eye for a second, but quickly averted his gaze, face blank, flicking his wrist extra hard on the next Evanesco. Harry looked away too, and felt numb.

He didn’t want to leave. He knew that this reaction was a bad reaction, because in the logical recesses of his brain he knew Malfoy was a loathsome toad, a total prat, and maybe a person of the edge doing something irredeemably horrible.

But, pathetically, that couldn’t overpower the feeling of relief that Harry felt just sitting there with another gay person. He knew in his mind that there were other gay people in the world - the problem was that in the Wizarding World, the subject wasn't handled in public like it was in the Muggle World. Actually, it wasn't handled at all. There were no prominent figures he knew to be homosexuals, and Harry certainly didn't know any "open" ones from school that he could turn to for advice. He knew they must exist, but their probable existence was not at all helpful or comforting to him. Malfoy, on the other hand, was a concrete example sitting right next to him. Knowing that Malfoy carried the same burden eased Harry's somewhat - in so many other aspects of his life, he was completely alone.

Looking at Malfoy’s hand swishing and flicking the come and dirt away, Harry realized they hadn’t exchanged a word.

Thank Merlin for small favors.

H/D story

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 05:02:03 GMT

Title: Harry's Detour
Author: annamaheba
Pairing: H/D
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): a little bit of Draco/Zacharias
Word count: 8136
Author's note: 1st story! Be gentle
Beta: Thank you so much ringo77713
Disclaimer: property of J.K. Rowling and co.
Summary: So what other private moments did Harry witness while stalking Draco? Takes place during the Half-Blood Prince (although, for the sake of not violating the TOS both are of age at this time)

Pulling one of Dudley’s oversized t-shirts over his head, Harry took one last glance at the Marauder’s Map before rolling it up for the night. His eyes zeroed in directly on the Slytherin dorms, looking for Malfoy’s dot.

He’d kept on eye on Malfoy since he’d overheard - well, whatever he overheard on the train. To Harry’s intense frustration, though, he’d observed no nefarious Malfoy activity so far. Malfoy ate in the Great Hall, went to class, went to Quidditch practice, occasionally went to the library, and slept in his dorm at night. Most nights, he was in his room even earlier than Harry.

Which is why Harry’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when he observed that Malfoy’s dot was not in the Slytherin dungeons after all, but moving rather quickly upwards in the main atrium.

Harry’s eyes followed the dot intently as it meandered from floor to floor, finally heading in into the 6th floor boys toilet. Before he had time to process what Malfoy could possibly be doing there, another dot appeared on the map walking towards the sixth floor, as well - this one belonging to one Zacharias Smith. Like Mafoy’s, Zacharias’s dot eventually turned into the 6th floor boys toilet where it stopped moving.

Harry’s heart started pounding in his chest: the map never lied, Malfoy was actually sneaking out of his room right now and Harry could catch him. He knew Malfoy had been up to something, he knew he was right. But the whole Zacharias Smith thing gave him a bit of a pause.

As far as he knew, Zacharias wasn’t a Death Eater or even a Death Eater sympathizer. And as far as he could remember, he’d never even seen Malfoy and Zacharias interact. Zacharias and Harry hadn’t really gotten along, but he’d never struck Harry as anyone evil or sadistic or, really, even all that competent. Harry couldn’t think of anyone less likely for Malfoy to collaborate with… which could be exactly why Malfoy chose him. Harry felt disturbed that Malfoy had potentially put some serious thought and effort into his plan. Good thing he had the map.

Harry didn’t hesitate a moment before getting his invisibility cloak out of the bottom of his trunk and draping it around himself, quickly leaving the portrait hole.

He walked as quickly as and as quietly as he could up to the sixth floor, his eyes glued to the Maurader’s Map the entire time, hoping that Zacharias and Malfoy didn’t leave. His anxiousness to overhear them made him walk even faster, and then almost break into a run. By the time he got to the 6th floor, he had to stop to catch his breath – he’d learned that even people as dense as Malfoy can hear heavy breathing.

Readjusting his cloak, he silently stepped into the boys bathroom expecting to hear whispered strategies or, more likely, Malfoy’s drawling voice singing his own praises like an idiot. But instead he was met with silence - there was no sign of Malfoy or Zacharias anywhere. After looking quickly back and forth in the open area of the sinks, he anxiously unrolled the map again to see what had happened.

Inexplicably, the Malfoy and Zacharias dots remained.

He hesitantly stepped into the second half of the bathroom, his gaze sweeping over the long line of stalls. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, Harry briefly wondered if he was finally going insane when a movement underneath the farthest stall caught his eye. Or movements, rather.

Taking a few steps closer to get a better look under the stall, the air left his lungs as he realized what was underneath the stall. It was feet. Two pairs, to be exact.

Before he could reach the obvious conclusion of this situation on his own, a set of knees replaced one set of feet, confirming his dread– Zacharias and Malfoy were in the bathroom for a… god, he couldn’t even think it, a tryst.

Harry suddenly felt heavy, unable to move, watching as the knees adjusted themselves in front of the feet. ‘I need to go,’ thought Harry dazedly, ‘I need to leave right now.’ As he was turning around to leave, something caught his eye, glinting off the hand absently slipping underneath a trouser cuff. He tiptoed a few steps closer to look at it. The shiny, glinty thing was a ring, and there was only one dumb prat that Harry knew of who wore rings like that to school.

Harry couldn’t believe it, though. Malfoy, that malicious oh-so-proud of his pure blood prick was on his knees in a school toilet. Doing…things with Zacharias Smith. A Hufflepuff. Harry felt lightheaded.

Zacharias’s grunt momentarily paralyzed his mind, however, as did the muffled moan that issued from Malfoy. They seemed fully engaged in what was probably a highly uncomfortable blowjob.

Panic rose in his throat as he realized that he was becoming hard watching, or rather imagining, the scene unfold behind the door. It wasn’t because there were two men involved, though it had been difficult enough coming to terms last year with the fact that he was gay. What bothered him, though, was that something involving Draco bloody Malfoy was giving him an erection. It was horrifying.

He desperately tried to clear his head, for once regretting that he had not cooperated with Snape more, but it was useless. Although he could not see Malfoy’s head bobbing on Zacharias’s dick, the slight sucking noises, punctuated by an occasional vulgar slurp, provided more than enough detail to let his imagination reveal the rest.

He couldn’t leave now, he really wasn’t capable of anything but obsessively picturing what was happening behind the door. He knew Zacharias was standing up, probably holding onto the wall, while Malfoy was… it was unthinkable. Really, it was hard to imagine Malfoy doing anything but sneering and cheating at Quidditch, but never in a million years had he considered that he’d developed this particular hobby.

The one thing of Malfoy’s appearance that he could visualize, though, was Malfoy’s ridiculous hair. It was still almost white, always gleaming unnaturally, and probably was now, even in the dim bathroom lighting.

His fist clenched all of a sudden, struck with the inexplicable urge to yank Malfoy’s hair out. No…yanking his hair wasn’t enough, thought Harry anxiously, digging his fingernails into his hands, he wanted to shake Malfoy; wanted to hit him infinitely more than he wanted to hit him on the Quidditch pitch last year. Malfoy’s face popped into his mind then, and he pictured rearing back, fist balled tight - then he heard a wet pop from behind the stall followed by a slicking noise and the mental image clicked like a slideshow. It was still Malfoy’s face, again, but it was pink, his cheeks were hallowed out… Harry’s stomach dropped at that thought and Harry had to close his eyes against the feeling.

Harry heard rustling and opened his eyes to watch as the knees disappeared underneath the stall and the feet appeared again, only this time the heels faced Harry. Time seemed to crawl as the heels were covered by bunched up trousers. Oh god… Harry’s skin was crawling with the urge to flee now – this was absolutely crossing the line, he absolutely should not stay for what was about to happen, but it was like his legs were petrified.

There was a loud crack of a cap opening suddenly, as loud as a gunshot in the otherwise dead silence of the bathroom. It startled him enough to jolt him out of his morbid fascination, but once he heard the slicking sound again it only increased tenfold. He’d seen an article or two about the mechanics of gay sex and even though he’d never experienced it himself he had a good idea what the noise was and what was happening at that moment.

He wondered in despair whether Zacharias was rubbing the lotion or oil or whatever on his own dick or whether Malfoy was doing it for him. Malfoy was probably doing it – he sure seemed to get off servicing people, especially Voldemort.

Harry’s hand twitched with the urge to hit Malfoy again. It was ridiculous, though. Why should he care that the evil little git about to get… buggered in a bathroom. A bathroom. At this thought, his cock twitched, dribbling precome inside his pants. Harry gripped his cock fiercely through his pants, horrified and attempting to quell his traitorous physical reactions. He should be laughing at Malfoy right now, or at least disgusted.

“Ow! Stop…STOP!” Malfoy snapped. It was the first time Malfoy had spoken since Harry had entered the room, and Harry abruptly stopped his hand to listen. Zacharias sighed exasperatedly. “Oh, stop being such a- “
“ such a what?” Malfoy snapped, “a Hufflepuff?”
Zacharias didn’t say anything, but the gasp and yelp that followed indicated that Zacharias had not taken Malfoy’s suggestion to slow down, after all.

Harry was silent, reeling – and then he realized the tinkling, rhymic metallic sound that he heard were belt buckles against the floor.

That was it. With Malfoy’s yelp still ringing in his ears and the mental image of what was certainly happening now, Harry frantically unzipped his pants - he couldn’t sit here and just listen to it anymore, it wasn’t possible. For whatever reason, mental illness most likely, he need to get off immediately, despite the fact that he knew without a doubt he would regret this moment it was over.

As he was pulling roughly on his cock, he discerned a staccato slapping noise under the din of the belt buckles. Wanting to groan and pushing into his hand harder, Harry obsessively wondered what was causing the noise. Was it Zacharias’s hips on Malfoy’s ass? Was it – Zacharias’s balls against Malfoy’s ass?

Harry’s face flushed at this thought and he gripped his erection tighter. Malfoy groaned loudly then, followed immediately by Zacharias shushing him.

Malfoy never could keep his damned mouth shut, Harry thought, his mouth twisting. Harry shuddered as he thought of what Malfoy’s mouth was doing earlier. ‘NO,’ thought Harry frantically, attempting to stop himself then. ‘No no no, not Malfoy, ANYONE but Malfoy,’ he shut his eyes as tight at he could and ordered himself to think of someone else.

But giving himself an order evidently was even less effective than other people giving him orders. The more he tried to banish his mental image of a fully shagged Malfoy, the more detail his mind filled in. He was panicking, trying to clear his mind, but it just wasn’t working, it was almost like he was looking at his own thoughts from a distance. Malfoy whimpered again, and Harry’s arousal was almost at the point of making him ill.

It was at that moment that Harry literally lost his mind, lost all control of his thoughts. He imagined himself grabbing the back of Malfoy’s neck, forcing him to bend over that same toilet, in that exact same stall, fucking him, fucking him, fucking him, making him moan and groan and squeal and every variety of pitiful whimpering that Harry could fuck out of him.

He also imagined other noises. He imagined the sound of fucking Malfoy so hard that they could hear the dull thud of their hipbones, he could almost taste it the image was so vivid. Another image suddenly appeared in Harry’s mind, in a way the most bizarre one, of taking Malfoy on a bed, flipping him on his back and spreading his legs apart, as far as they could go.

He pumped his cock, in his mind pounding into Malfoy, pushing his legs apart farther and farther and –oh God. Harry’s orgasm surprised him, but he stood in silence as the hot, slick liquid overflowed his sweaty hand and dripped onto his balls.

For a moment, Harry did not move at all and simply stood there holding his limp, wet cock in his hand. His hand felt cold and slimy, and wiping it against his unabsorbent pyjama bottoms only succeeded in spreading it all of over them. He felt disgusting.

What had just happened? He’d almost violently jerked off listening to Draco Malfoy? He’d actually wanked to thoughts of Draco Malfoy?

Before his horrified panic could overtake him, the feet behind the stall shuffled again and he could hear the rustling of clothes. When they exited the stall, still tucking in and buttoning various articles of clothing, Harry could not look at them.

Zacharias looked at Malfoy for a second and then walked right past Harry out of the bathroom, but Malfoy didn’t leave.

Harry, who’d never been called a coward before, felt very much like one now as he could only watch Malfoy’s back as he walked past Harry to the sinks. Harry kept his eye trained on Malfoy’s bony shoulders working underneath his shirt as he splashed water on his face, hoping desperately that Malfoy would leave soon.

Suddenly Malfoy looked in the mirror, and Harry could not avoid looking at him. Malfoy was staring into his reflection blankly, as if on autopilot. His face was flushed pink, as Harry had imagined that it would be, but his hair was messy and contorted unnaturally off his face, as if someone had been pulling on it.

It made the experience terribly real. Harry was, if possible, even more horrified by his actions. He’d spied on them like a twisted freak.

Unfortunately for Harry, it was at that moment that his knee decided to crack. Malfoy jumped and whirled around, his wand outstreched, looking left and right. Harry’s panic rose again. He could not be caught, the thought of what would happen if Malfoy found out was unbearable. He moved away from Malfoy as quickly and as silently as he could, barely bringing his feet in contact with the ground. Soon he was backed up against the far wall, praying that Malfoy did not walk that way.

After a few excruciating moments for Harry, the tension left Malfoy’s shoulders and he let his wand hand drop to his side. Tucking it into his back pocket and taking one last glance around, Malfoy quickly left the bathroom. Harry thought he would expire with relief.

Harry walked back to his dorm in a daze, tripping over carpet in the hall and making way too much noise entering his bed. He didn’t feel like he was in his own body. It took Harry a long, long time to fall asleep.

The next day in classes, unrested and irritable, Harry could not pay attention. He tried feeling smug about the situation – he should, shouldn’t he? Draco Malfoy was not only bent, he was the one taking it like a girl. He would hate if Harry knew, he would die. But Harry’s heart was not in it - it just was not satisfying. Knowing about Malfoy’s… activities only made him restless.

Realizing he’d spent the last 20 minutes of history of magic thinking about Malfoy – again ¬– he attempted to focus on what Professor Binns was talking about. This effort was quickly aborted, however, as he realized that he’d pretty much rather Crucio himself rather than listen to Professor Binns talk about anything.

He looked discreetly to his right at Hermione, hoping for a more inspiring form of distraction. Hermione’s eyes were trained solely on professor Binns (Merlin, how could did she do it?) periodically scribbling down notes. No help there. He peered hopefully to his left and saw Ron sitting with his face perched on his fists, falling asleep and periodically jerking awake once his head dropped. Harry scowled. No distractions there, either. Frustrated and bored, he sat squirming in his seat, alternating between twiddling his quill in his hands tapping his fingers against his leg.

Amidst his fidgeting, Harry mused on his good luck that Hermione and Ron hadn’t pestered him about his mood at breakfast. They were his best friends, to whom he told almost everything, but there were just some things that should be kept secret for the benefit of all parties involved.

Harry was suddenly angry with Malfoy again. This – this completely absurd situation - was clearly Malfoy’s fault, Harry thought, tapping his quill even more vigorously against his leg. Harry had spied on him, yes, but Harry had good reason to spy on him! He’d practically confessed his allegiance to Voldemort, and, furthermore, hinted that he was actually doing something for once instead of being a full time idiot. How was he supposed to know that Malfoy was getting into…other types of trouble as well? And, not that Harry was at all into Zacharias, but why should Malfoy get to experiment while Harry had to hide? It was yet another reminder of how unfair life was for him as of late.

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That night Harry, predictably, dreamed of Malfoy.

Ironically, it was the same bizarre dream that he’d had years ago during his second year of school. This time, however, he was close enough to Malfoy to see his face sneering down at him from the dragon and his ring glinting off his finger. That was all Harry could recall, anyway, and yet, he was tenting his boxers under the covers when he woke up.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, wanting to scream of frustration. Was it really not enough that he was the Chosen One? That half of everyone he loved and admired was dead? That he was gay? Was it really cosmically necessary that he dream about Draco Malfoy riding dragons?

He cringed in shame as the dream-image of Malfoy and his ring conjured his wank images from the previous night. He rolled over to look at the clock – 3:45 am – and flopped back on his bed and sighed.

He knew tossing off was the only hope he had of going back to sleep, but even that had become dangerous territory for him, thanks to Malfoy. He was terrified that he’d think about him again, even though he didn’t want to.

He tried thinking of Zacharias to get off – Pureblood arsehole or not, he was gay after all, it could happen – but Zacharias was too closely intertwined with Malfoy, the images would be difficult to separate. He angrily finished himself off and tried his best to fall asleep again.

By the end of that week, Harry was utterly mad with sexual frustration. Tossing off every night wasn’t cutting it anymore, he needed something else. The next best thing besides his imagination was a magazine that he’d bought once during a summer in Little Whinging. He’d been so terrified that Ron or Seamus or someone else would find it in his room that he hid it in one of the east corridors of the castle, just for emergencies. If there was such a thing as a sexual emergency, he was having one right now.

He felt sort of pathetic, sneaking out in his invisibility cloak to retrieve the magazine, but he was desperate enough that he didn’t dwell on it much. Locating the spot where his magazine was, Harry took a quick look left and right and then kneeled down to retrieve it from the place behind the statue. To his chagrin, his heartrate doubled at the sight of the loud, dusty cover.

Harry quickly navigated the halls, gripping the magazine tightly in his sweaty hand, feeling like some old pervert. He didn’t want to take it to his room. He could go to the bathroom maybe… NO, he was not going back there. He just had to go somewhere where he could be alone, where he could make as much noise as he wanted, where he didn’t have to worry about Ron seeing the cover of the magazine and enduring the awkwardness that would surely follow.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he almost jumped out of his skin when he spotted one of the Hufflepuff prefects roaming the halls, looking for errant students. He’d forgotten that they were still on their rounds. It was late though, and that was probably one of the last ones of the night. Making sure to stay quiet, he walked right past her. A few hundred feet later he saw another prefect, though he wasn’t as scared this time. ‘nobody is looking for you,’ he reminded himself, attempting to quell his heartbeat, while still walking fast ‘nobody can see you.’

He was so intent on calming himself down, that he didn’t even notice the figure behind him until he felt the invisibility cloak slide off of his skin. He froze for a minute, then turned around only to see, to his most intense dread, Draco Malfoy smirking, his hand halfway invisible from holding the cloak.

“Well, if it isn’t the Chosen One. Out for a little midnight stroll, are you? And, what’s this?” Harry felt icy cold dread slice through his guts when Malfoy snatched the magazine away from him before he could stop him.

Malfoy’s eyes widened as he stared at the cover, silenced for a moment. Then he snorted incredulously, flipping the magazine to look at its back cover.

Malfoy’s eyes glittered with malice as he finally looked up from the magazine at Harry’s face. “In a hurry, Potter?” he drawled.

Harry’s fist clenched, he wanted to hit Malfoy so hard he couldn’t see straight. “Could it be,” said Draco, in a mock serious voice, “that the savior of the Wizarding World is a queer?” He laughed, raising the magazine over his head as Harry attempted to grab it. “Good God, Potter, I was sure you couldn’t disappoint the Wizarding World anymore than you already have. For once, it’s nice to be proven wrong.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.” Harry was glad to have finally found his voice. He was itching for his wand, but he didn’t want the other prefects to come running. “At least I don’t get off with whiney Hufflepuffs in the toilets,” Harry spat before he could think about it.

“I KNEW it was you!” Malfoy breathed triumphantly. “I knew I’d heard you, all that heavy breathing and cracking bones. Merlin, I hope Dumbledore and his cronies aren’t relying on your stealth to defeat the Dark Lord.” Harry was quickly feeling like he would never recover from this incident.

“Who knew the Boy Who Lived was such a sick, twisted pervert?” Malfoy continued, relishing the queasy look on Harry’s face. “So pathetic that he’s spying on people under his invisibility cloak, though I guess it’s understandable seeing as how no one wants to touch poor Potty.” Malfoy shook his head.

“Well Potter, I’m afraid you’re in for one epic write up. You’re out after curfew, in possession of pornography, and this is hardly one of your first offenses…not looking too good for you.” Harry hadn’t even thought about the fact that Malfoy would report him for the magazine, as well. Well, that was just not happening. He’d kill Malfoy before he let Malfoy take that magazine to Dumbledore or, infinitely worse, to Snape….

“But… I’m in a charitable mood today,” Malfoy said, his eyes glittering strangely. “And, I hate you, but, you being bent could be useful.” He fidgeted with his wand. “It’s a tragedy that you and Smith seem to be the only shirt lifters in this place…”

It finally dawned on Harry what was actually happening here, why Mafloy hadn’t called the other prefects immediately, why he hadn’t run back to Slytherin with the magazine, and why he wasn’t doing much of anything except standing there. Malfoy was still babbling, quite meanly, but Harry understood the message loud and clear.

Malfoy was propositioning him.

Realizing this, paradoxically, calmed Harry. Malfoy had seemed dangerous for about 5 seconds, but now he was blinking and his hands were fidgeting and he was just so pathetic, just like he always was, and as usual he was spouting a bunch of arrogant bravado with less than nothing to back it up.

It was unfortunate, though, that realizing this didn’t keep his mind from being flooded with the images he’d tried so hard to suppress over the past couple of weeks, both real and imagined. He could almost hear those noises again.

As the memories became clearer, Harry realized with despair that it didn’t matter much to him that Malfoy was a pathetic twat whose latest jaunt of idiocy was attempting to blackmail Harry into having sex with him. Harry’s mind was currently on one track: he could get sexual. And soon.

Harry knew that in pretty much any circumstance, admitting that he was actually considering touching Malfoy at all would be enough reason enough to check himself into St. Mungos.

But, as usual, these were extraordinary circumstances. Hermione hated when he said this, but sometimes he felt that his life was terminally cursed. Since his birth it’d been one colossal disaster after another, with his future prospects looking bleaker and bleaker, or, at the rate things were going now, nonexistent. He’d given up hoping for information about his parents, or for having Sirius back, or even for a semi-normal relationship with anyone.

But he could have sex. He deserved sex, at the very least, for being Voldemort’s number one. And now he could get it with no strings attached, and hardly any chance of being caught out. Hell, having Malfoy as a partner was almost practical, when he thought about it. No one would suspect, he’d be able to… focus more, and yet wouldn’t get preoccupied, and he wasn’t putting anyone he cared about in danger of Voldemort, and he might actually be able to spy on him…

“Potter!” barked Draco, looking furious. Harry jolted out of his reverie and realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to Draco for the last minute or so. Draco, unfortunately, had realized this, also. “Guess you’ll be spending the rest of the year in detention, too bad for Gryffindor, though on second thought maybe they’ll do better without your stupid, clumsy-”

“No, they won’t,” said Harry shortly. “Because I’m going to accept your deal.”

An awkward silence fell immediately, but Malfoy wouldn’t break his stare. Harry idely hoped that all of this awkward staring wasn’t indicative of the sex he’d basically bargained his soul for.

“Well,” Malfoy said finally, “the 6th floor bathroom? Since you know your way there.”

There is no way in hell that Harry was ever going to that bathroom again. Ever. “No, it’s easy to get caught there.”

“Sure, who knows how many insanely frustrated Gryffindors are prowling around looking at people.”

Harry ignored him. “The edge of the Forbidden Forest is better. Nobody ever goes there, even during the day,” said Harry, for a moment relishing the memory of Malfoy running away during their first year.

Evidently Malfoy did too, if his growing scowl was any indication. But he wasn’t objecting yet.

“Fine,” Malfoy responded stiffly.

With their confrontation apparently over, he pushed past Harry to go back to his rounds, making sure to hit him in the shoulder on the way out.

Instead of being repulsed with himself, as Harry thought he would be, he felt instead empty. More than anything, accepting this… whatever he was doing, he couldn’t think about it… out loud was admitting, for the first time, that he probably wasn’t going to live very long. He probably wouldn’t have time for a good relationship with a good person, or even a stupid, slobbery relationship a la Ron and Lavender.

Harry stared at his retreating form, not able to wrap his mind around what just occurred, finally walking back to his dorm in a daze.

*****************************************************************************************************************

The daze lasted into the next day, making it impossible fore him to concentrate on anything. Despite the fact that he was weirdly dreading their... meeting, he felt that time had come to a stand still. Finally, one a.m. rolled around, and Harry, more wired than he’d been if he’d overdosed on Pepper Up, stepped out in his invisibility cloak, making sure that he was completely covered before he left.

He’d grown wiser since first year, when Malfoy had suggested a duel just to get him into trouble. For all Harry knew, Malfoy might have all of the prefects and Filch waiting for him this time.

Which is why Harry was a little surprised when he arrived a few meters away from the meeting point, and only saw Draco. He was sitting on a stump with his arms crossed, looking left and right occasionally. Harry looked as hard as he could into the bushes next Malfoy and to the forest behind him, but he actually seemed alone.

Feeling more secure, Harry took off his invisibility cloak and made enough noise that Malfoy would know he coming. At the sound of Harry’s rustling, Malfoy looked up and spotted him, keeping his arms crossed.

As Harry walked closer to Malfoy, it got harder and harder to breathe. He was sweating despite the slight chill outside and he couldn’t seem to get enough air. The whole point behind this arrangement was supposed to be the casual nature of it, he thought angrily.

Malfoy stood up then, and they stared at each other silently, unmoving, awkward as all fuck and dammit this is what he knew would happen. What did he think he was doing? All he’d ever managed before was one lousy kiss with Cho Chang, a girl he actually fancied very much. If he couldn’t even gracefully initiate something with someone he liked, how did he think he was going to start this with Malfoy? This just wasn’t going to happen. He should be committed for even trying.

Then Draco smirked at him. “Scared, Potter?”

Harry’s mind blanked then, and he acted on pure competitive instinct, gripping onto Draco’s robes and yanking Malfoy against his own body, closer physically to Malfoy than he’d ever been to another person in his whole life.

He grabbed the back of Malfoy’s head and forced their mouths together, his hands raking jerkily down Malfoy’s sides. The shock of being so physically close to someone else short-circuited his brain. This was not at all what he’d expected. It felt wet, like with Cho but more… slick. It felt soft and hot and his stomach was turning over in his stomach from his nerves

Malfoy responded to Harry finally by grabbing Harry’s face and pulling back from the kiss, slowing it down. Chagrined but still turned on, Harry let Malfoy kiss him for a moment trying to figure out what he should do. Malfoy was doing something with his mouth, it was opening and closing on Harry’s lips, rubbing against them. Harry decided to copy him, he tried opening his mouth in time with Draco’s in an attempt to pick up Draco’s rhythm.

When Harry finally got it he heard Draco’s breathing get faster and shallower. He could have been imagining it, but he could swear that there was heat radiating from Draco’s groin.

When Draco’s tongue touched his, Harry’s heart stopped in surprise. He’d been grossed out by Ron and Lavender’s common room displays, but he knew this wasn’t the same thing.

Malfoy’s tongue was barely touching his mouth at all, but it felt like he was touching his insides. It was truly a unique feeling, he still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he knew it would be hard for him now to copy what Malfoy was doing. Harry resented Malfoy’s control now - Malfoy never had any control before.

Harry resolved that he would eventually beat him at this too.

So he resisted the urge to just shove his tongue into Draco’s mouth, trying to keep it as deliberate as Draco, even though keeping himself in check was driving him mad.

After a few moments, though, his patience paid off and he didn’t have to think about the rhythm anymore. His lips moved with Draco’s automatically, carrying on effortlessly, and they were really, really snogging now and Harry felt that feeling in his stomach intensify, it was like his guts were turning over.

Harry gasped as he felt Draco slip a hot hand underneath the hem of Harry’s shirt. Harry’s skin was so sensitive now that he could feel the pads of Draco’s fingers as they moved fluidly up and down his chest and his back. He tried to concentrate on keeping the rhythm thing of the kiss good, but his mind was reeling at the sensation of being touched like that. Even if it was Malfoy.

Draco moved his lips from Harry’s face to his neck, licking and sucking and kissing him more and Harry felt his cock growing harder still. It was very, very weird seeing Draco from this angle, as Draco was a little bit taller and Harry never had seen the top of his head. Draco’s hair was tickling the underside of his chin and he felt weird pressure on his neck and it just felt so… strange.

Then Draco moved his lips to Harry’s ear, and it was almost too much for Harry. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, Draco’s tongue was barely touching him and it felt like he was twisting his guts around again. Harry’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and his cock was absolutely leaking by the time that Malfoy’s mouth left him. At this point Harry was so, so badly turned on that he was disoriented - he needed to have sex.

Then Draco’s head was moving farther down his chest, and when Harry looked down Draco was on his knees on wet grass, grabbing Harry’s waist and licking around his belly button. Harry felt like hyperventilating again, he felt completely out of control, having to keep reminding himself that Draco asked for this, that he was the one in control, and not Malfoy.

However, all he wanted to do was let go and not think at all, making however much damn noise he pleased, but he wasn’t about to give Malfoy the satisfaction. ‘This is why you need to be with someone you trust,’ thought Harry frantically, not able to stand looking down at Draco ‘because this is potentially a very, very dangerous situation.’

Malfoy must’ve sensed his frustration and started working on his pants. Harry felt beyond stupid standing there with his arms stiff by his sides with his hips wobbling as Malfoy pulled on his pants fastenings. He was suddenly struck with the urge to laugh hysterically.

His cock’s exposure to damp, cold air fortunately quelled this particular urge. It didn’t make the situation any less ridiculous though: he was still having to just stand there, with his cock pointing straight out, bobbing and swaying to his most minute motions and Malfoy leaning on his haunches just staring at it and not doing anything.

Harry couldn’t look at him anymore, he focused on a tree in the distance counting to 10 and reciting everything he knew about the Goblin Wars in an attempt to disengage himself. Suddenly though he felt a hand on his cock and a tongue licking one long line up the underside. Harry only barely caught himself from falling on his knees. He looked down at Malfoy, who was resolutely not looking up at him, watching him lick again.

He felt like it wasn’t happening, that reality had departed. The only thing reminding him that what he was experiencing was real was the feeling of Malfoy’s tongue, which felt like it was licking inside of him.

Finally Draco opened his mouth and slowly swallowed the length of Harry’s cock, his cheeks hallowing as he did so. As Harry watched Malfoy adjust his throat to take down more of him, he moaned out loud, a pitiful moan, just like Malfoy’s moans in the bathroom. He clamped his mouth shut immediately, hoping that he didn’t ever make that sound again.

Malfoy developed a rhythm quickly, his head bobbing forwards and back using his hands where his mouth wasn’t reaching. He seemed to be doing it so quickly and fluidly that Harry could not keep track of exactly what he was doing.

As Malfoy swallowed him more deeply, Harry’s hips of their own volition started pumping, the blunt head of his cock touching the back of Malfoy’s throat on every thrust. Harry wanted to be buried to the root in root in Draco’s mouth, but it would give too much away, he’d look like he was liking it too much. He bit his lip, thrusting just a little bit on harder on the next one, he didn’t think anything was wrong with it, but Malfoy gagged and put his hands flat on Harry’s stomach, stopping him. Dear God, Malfoy was choking on it. Harry felt himself grow, if possible harder in Draco’s mouth.

After a few more careful thrusts, Harry realized he was rapidly, mortifyingly close to coming and it had only been a couple of minutes. He hysterically wondered if he should tell Malfoy, or if he should try not to come, though that just seemed impossible at this point. Should he grab his shoulder? Pull on his hair? What was the etiquette of this situation?

Harry tried tapping Malfoy on the back of his head but his hand was swatted away. Beyond distressed, Harry then attempted to speak to him, which proved to be nearly impossible. “Malfoy,” he said through clenched teeth. Malfoy ignored him. “I’m about to, ah..um” Harry couldn’t say it.

“I know,” Malfoy snapped impatiently, and then swallowed his cock again. Harry closed his eyes, feeling his balls tightening up, feeling his whole stomach clenching from what was an extremely fast approaching orgasm. He tried not to make any noise, specifically the horrible high pitched grunt he’d made before, but the effort of keeping it in was causing him to make even higher pitched grunts, he was pushing impossibly far into Draco’s throat because Draco was letting him, and Draco was working his cock fast, his hand rubbing and squeezing where his mouth wasn’t sucking, then Harry’s stomach dropped and he felt the come that had been building up in his balls all day shoot into Draco’s throat. Draco gagged again and pulled back, but kept sucking, kept pulling on his balls, and Harry’s orgasm kept going, he’d wanted to come for so long, there was so much and it was going into Draco’s mouth.

Finally he felt the last little bit of come dribble out of his cock, and he looked down drunkenly to see Malfoy finally looking back at him. Harry looked away under his scrutiny.

Malfoy was going to laugh at him, he thought with dread. Malfoy made him say stupid things and make stupid faces, and this was a terrible idea after all.

He kept looking away from Draco, slowly putting his pants back on, cringing in anticipation of the laughing or the mocking or the comments about his mother. But as he was redoing the fastenings, they never came.

Finally Harry was done dressing and stared at Malfoy head on, trying not to feel as naked as he did. Malfoy looked bemused.

“Er, thanks,” mumbled Harry. He felt incredibly lame.

“Enjoyed it that much, did you?” Malfoy drawled, his voice overly loud. Harry’s faced tensed up, trying trying trying to think of something to say. “Not that I need your feedback,” Draco continued, “as always, your feelings on the matter are quite obvious.” Harry wanted to die.

“I’m leaving now,” said Harry stiffly, turning around, trying his best to sound normal and not like he wanted to throw himself to the Giant Squid.

“Now wait just a second, Potter!” Draco started after him angrily, “what do you think this is? You think my point in this arrangement was to blow you and wave you off? How typically like you.”

“That’s not what I expected at all!” Harry exclaimed, turning around to face Malfoy again.

“The only reason I sucked your puny knob in the first place,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry, “was that so you could concentrate when you sucked me. It’s painfully obvious that you’re new at all this, so I’m expecting at most a mediocre one, anyway; but it would be unbearable if you were too cross-eyed to do anything except slobber on it.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Harry spat. This threw Malfoy’s rant into overdrive, but Harry stopped listening, he was tired of letting that stupid twat yell at him. He was tempted to just leave anyway - Malfoy probably would have done it to him in a second - but it might just make Malfoy angry enough to seek the worst kind of public retribution, the kind that he absolutely couldn’t afford right now. Plus… even though it was Malfoy, the worst person in the world, he had given him his first blowjob. And he supposed that a one sided arrangement was pretty awful, even though Malfoy would probably have done it to him.

So instead of saying anything, as speaking wasn’t his strong suit, he marched up to Malfoy and got in his space, staring at him. Malfoy got the message quickly and his eyes got sharp, leaning into Harry to start the process over again.

He felt Malfoy’s hands on his shoulders, disengaging himself from the kiss. Harry knew what was coming and was nervous because he didn’t know what in the hell he was doing at all. But he steeled himself, and he resented it but did not fight when he felt Malfoy’s hands firmly pushing Harry’s head down. Soon Harry was on his knees, in an exact reverse of their previous positions. Merlin, the grass was cold.

Looking straight ahead he found himself eye level with Draco’s crotch. Gulping, he realized he was close enough to feel the heat on his face radiating from Draco’s groin. As he sat there watching, he could see the lump in Draco’s pants twitching very slightly, growing the more Harry stared at it. If he could make Malfoy do a fraction of the stupid faces or stupid noises that Harry made, he could call it a draw.

“As innovative as this technique is,” Malfoy said down to him through clenched teeth, “I think I rather prefer it the old fashioned way.”

Harry swallowed and tried to push past his nervousness to undo Draco’s trousers, which weren’t complicated but for some reason he was not getting. The button kept slipping out of his suddenly weak fingers, he couldn’t quite get it through the hole, panic was rising deep within him at how much he was failing at this already. “Good God, Potter!” Draco exploded. “This isn’t advanced arithmancy, you know. I understand that Gryffindors are dimwitted but even a Hufflepuff could manage to undo my trousers for me.”

“You would know,” Harry retorted.

“That’s right, Potter,” said Draco nastily, “I would know. It’s sad that you wouldn’t, seeing as how you haven’t managed to get anyone to touch you at all, but really, functioning fingers would be a capital place to start.”

Harry lost him temper then, yanking at fastening so hard that the bottom popped off into the grass. “A typically Gryffindor strategy,” said Malfoy shaking his head, “but it’s an improvement.” And then he pulled down his pants around his knees and his cock sprang free in front of Harry’s face.

Harry gulped again, looking at Draco’s purple bulbous head nodding slightly at him. He’d seen other ones in the Quidditch showers, but never this close. Harry’s breathing became quicker and more shallow as he looked at it. Merlin, he could smell Malfoy now.

He tried to remember what Malfoy did first. Well, staring - he’d done a fine job at that so far. Now for… licking. He felt self-conscious and stupid as he scooted closer to Malfoy, trying to make the angle better. The thought of losing his balance during this particular act was a thought he couldn’t bear. Then he opened his mouth hesitantly, grabbed Draco’s cock at the root and licked one long line up the underside, as Draco had done to him.

He was rewarded with Malfoy’s heavy breathing. Ok, so far so good. And it didn’t even taste like much of anything. He tried licking again, on the other side this time. Even better, but still not enough reaction from Malfoy. Harry’s dread returned as he realized that he need to start sucking. He opened his mouth, closing his lips hesitantly around the head. Harry thought he heard a tiny gasp from Malfoy then, and cheered inwardly.

Emboldened, he wrapped his lips more tightly around Draco’s shaft and sucked. It made some horrible, embarrassing sucking sound, but there was definitely a whimper from Draco this time. Harry vowed resolutely to make Draco make as many of those particular noises as possible. He rocked his head back, sliding his lips all the way to the tip, then thrust his mouth forward to engulf at least half of his cock this time.

Draco’s sharp intake of breath caused Harry to look up at him as Draco’s hips jerked away. “Cover your bloody teeth!” Draco hissed down to him. Harry scowled, but engulfed Malfoy’s cock again, doing as he asked.

“Now lick your lips,” Draco said quietly. Harry got very still at the sound of Draco’s voice this time. It didn’t sound like his normal voice at all– his voice was low and quiet and still sort of hoarse from sucking Harry’s cock. Harry hated that it aroused him.

Draco, however, must’ve sensed his favorable reaction. “Now suck,” Draco said, a bit louder this time, sounding obscenely loud in the quiet of the almost woods. Harry did what he said, vaguely humiliated by his own reaction.

“Use your tongue,” Draco instructed. Harry vigorously ran his tongue down the underside of Draco’s cock, attempting to rock back and forth and suck at the same time. It was sort of difficult work, but it was having a good effect.

Harry kept sucking, remembering that Draco had also used his hand. He twisted his sweaty hand around the root of Draco’s cock, making sure to rub his thumb along the vein on the bottom. He was rewarded with another small moan from Malfoy.

He remembered then that Draco had sucked his cock way farther down his throat than Harry was currently doing. This would have to change. Harry leaned back, and then carefully sucked as far down as he could. Soon though, Harry gagged and his throat closed up on Draco’s dick. Draco gasped out loud and gripped the back of Harry’s head, pushing his cock further into Harry’s throat, causing Harry to gag again. Harry grabbed his hips tightly to still them. He tried going down a couple more times, but he gagged every time, and finally just gave up.

He went back to only sucking the head, but sucking it hard, using his hand for extra leverage. His jaw was aching a little bit and his thighs were getting tired, but Harry was determined. He wanted to watch Malfoy make his stupid come faces, he wanted to be able to make that superior face at him.

After a few minutes more minutes of Harry’s enthusiastic sucking, Malfoy suddenly went really silent and tense. Harry sped up, knowing exactly what this meant. He tried to suck faster, lap at Draco’s cock harder, twist his hand better. His mouth hurt, and his lips were sore, but Malfoy was pushing harder into Harry’s hand and mouth, and he was whimpering, yes he was whimpering, more than that other time that he’d seen Malfoy in this position.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Draco’s fists balling up, the veins in his pale wrist bulging out. Draco’s cock became large enough in his mouth that it was almost impossible to suck him without nipping him with his teeth. He tried the best he could for a few more seconds then Draco stilled completely and Harry felt his mouth fill with a very warm, bitter fluid. Oh God, Malfoy was coming. In his mouth. Harry hardened against his will listening to Draco’s breathing as he came.

When he was through, Malfoy jabbed his cock down Harry’s throat one last time, causing Harry to cough and choke a little bit. He didn’t want to swallow it, so, not knowing what else to do, he leaned over next to Malfoy’s feet to spit the come out into the grass. He’d succeeded, but he didn’t feel like looking at Malfoy yet.

Malfoy was silent, save for his breathing for a moment or two. Then he leaned down and, ignoring Harry, retrieved his button and cast a quick Reparo.

Harry got up awkwardly, also ignoring Draco, picking pieces of wet grass off of his muddy water patches on the knees of his trousers. His throat had closed up - he could not talk. He was pretty sure that, in his life, nothing would be as awkward as this moment.

It was Draco who finally broke the silence. "That took long enough." But his voice was shakey. Harry knew that he'd liked it, that Harry had done a decent job. Draco just wasn't a good liar - ever.

Watching Draco refasten his robe around him, Harry felt a deep uneasiness. It wasn't just Draco that had liked what had hapened. Harry had, too. And, now that he'd experienced it, he wanted it again. Not only that, but he wanted more. Perhaps, he thought, this wasn't the best idea, afterall.

The End (for now)

Hey!

annamahebahunter@gmail.com — Sun, 12 Sep 2004 04:56:17 GMT

This is Anna, and this will be my journal. Hope to hear from ya'll!