Draco Malfoy had discovered
Firewhiskey.
Harry noticed immediately when Malfoy sauntered into the library, looking
somewhat… off.
Rumour had it the Slytherins held weekly drinkfests in their common room.
Most of the time the evil monsters kept to themselves rather than risk detention by wandering
around the school in a drunken haze.
Malfoy smirked at Harry and walked toward a bookshelf. He perused the covers
for long moments, swaying slightly as he skimmed a long finger over the titles. Harry wondered what
he was doing in the library in his inebriated state, especially considering Madam Pince would be
throwing them all out for the night in another fifteen minutes.
The blond finally chose a book and wandered over to a table in Harry's
direct line of sight. He did not look at Harry at all, however, instead flipping open his book and
idly leafing through the pages.
Harry watched him surreptitiously after glancing at Hermione and Ron.
Hermione was utterly absorbed in her text and would likely need to be roused with a hex to break
her focus. Ron had fallen asleep and was drooling slightly on his Transfigurations
textbook.
Malfoy pulled a quill from his robes and began to nibble on the end before
lapping at it with his pink tongue. Harry's eyes widened. A Sugar Quill, obviously. His mouth
watered a bit, remembering the sweet taste of his own Quills, which were upstairs in his trunk.
Harry preferred to save his for the really boring classes.
Malfoy's eyes lifted to Harry's and a smirk curved the Slytherin's lips.
Harry tried to look away, but instead he lifted his chin as if to admit he was watching Malfoy and
dared him to do something about it.
Malfoy's mouth opened and the Sugar Quill began to disappear, sliding slowly
between Malfoy's lips. Harry's eyes widened as more and more of it vanished, going deeper and
deeper into Malfoy's mouth, until all that was visible was the tip and a small bit of white clasped
between Malfoy's fingers.
Fuck, how long was it? Seven inches? Eight? Harry's mouth was suddenly dry
and his heart was pounding. He wiped his hands on his trousers as Malfoy pulled the Quill out
again, bit by bit, eyes still locked with Harry's.
He smirked once more and then licked the Quill, sliding his tongue over it
suggestively, as though wiping clean all traces of his saliva, which made no sense at all. Harry
shifted in his seat, fighting an uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. He was alarmed by his
response, but rationalized that it was only natural. If anyone had performed that feat, it would
have been a turn-on. The thought made him picture Hermione doing it and he shuddered. Okay, perhaps
not anyone.
When Malfoy finished fellating the hapless Sugar Quill, he got to his feet
and exited without bothering to return the book to the shelf. Before leaving, he looked over his
shoulder and gave Harry a wink. A wink!
Drunk, for certain, Harry decided.
The next day, Malfoy was back to normal. His shoulder shoved into Harry's on
the stairs, nearly knocking him head over heels. Harry's glare was met with icy disdain. During
classes, Malfoy ignored him entirely.
Harry tried to put the Sugar Quill Incident out of his mind. It had
obviously been a sick joke of Malfoy's. Still, the memory would return to him at night when he lay
in bed. He pictured something else disappearing into Malfoy's mouth. Something that grew
uncomfortably hard at the thought.
Harry buried his face in his hands. I am not having sexual fantasies
about Draco Malfoy, he told himself firmly.
Several days later, Harry went in search of some sweets shortly before
curfew. He was just reaching for the pear on the painting that disclosed the kitchen entrance when
it swung open to reveal Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy's grey eyes widened when he saw Harry and he stopped short, blocking
the passageway. He held a bit of chocolate between one thumb and index finger and he slowly raised
it to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on Harry's, Malfoy placed the chocolate onto his tongue and then
sucked lightly on his fingers, hollowing his cheeks for a moment.
Harry felt the blood flowing south and fought to retain some
aplomb.
Malfoy pulled his fingers away and stepped forward. The scent of alcohol and
chocolate wafted over Harry in a wave. A smiled curved Malfoy's lips, warm and inviting, giving
Harry a jolt when he realized he had never seen its like on Malfoy's face before.
"Hello, Harry," Malfoy said in a purring tone and leaned even closer. He
raised a hand and curled it around the back of Harry's neck to bunch in the unruly hair at Harry's
nape.
He means to kiss me! Harry thought in amazement as Malfoy's lips drew
nearer.
"Hey, Harry!" Ron's voice was like a shock of cold water. Apparently, Malfoy
felt the same, for his eyes widened and he snatched his hand away from Harry's hair as if burned.
Before Harry could react, the blond sidestepped him and continued on toward the Slytherin dungeons
at a quick pace. Harry stared after him in bemusement as Ron made it to his side and gave him a
nudge. "Was he touching you?"
"I think he's drunk," Harry said as Malfoy disappeared down the
stairs.
"Stupid Slytherins," Ron muttered, but Harry thought his voice sounded a bit
regretful.
The next time a rumoured Slytherin party was in progress, Harry lurked near
the kitchen entrance (not hopefully, merely curiously), until it became obvious that he was
lurking. Disappointed, he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower and went to bed, only to be roused
from near slumber by a tapping on the window.
He crawled out of his warm bed and opened the window for the instantly
recognizable owl. With a quick glance to the other sleeping denizens of the room, Harry fed the owl
a quick treat, shooed it out, and climbed back into his bed. He drew the bed curtains and then cast
a Light Spell to read the hastily unfolded note. The writing was barely legible.
Potter Harry,
I want to suck your cock until you see stars. I want you to fuck me up
against a wall. I want. I want you to stop looking so sexy all the fucking time. You're driving me
crazy.
It was unsigned. Harry spent several minutes trying to work out the crossed
out bits. Once he did, he stared in open mouthed shock at the words. Surely it was a joke? Perhaps
Malfoy—or even Blaise Zabini—had sent it to fuck with Harry's mind.
Despite his disbelief, Harry had a hard time shaking off the message. The
more he tried to sleep, the more an image of Draco Malfoy sucking his cock prevented it. He
could not even visualize the second crossed out line without growing rock hard.
After wanking three times, he finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Bloody
Draco Malfoy.
The next few days were torment for Harry. Malfoy seemed as arrogant and cold
as ever, but Harry could not seem to shake the pornographic images of Malfoy that assaulted him at
every turn. He found himself watching the blond in all of their shared classes while dreaming of
tasting the creamy skin of his throat, burying his hands in the silky-looking blond hair, and
kissing those sneering lips.
Malfoy seemed oblivious.
Ron was not.
"Mate, you need to stop looking at Malfoy like he's a chocolate frog, or
something," he said.
Harry blinked at him. "What?"
Ron sighed. "Look, Harry, I know you like blokes. I mean, it's been obvious
for a bit now, but, honestly, Malfoy? Does it have to be him?"
"I… I… Obvious?"
"Well, to me." Ron coughed.
Harry was flabbergasted. "And you're okay with it?"
"Course. Why wouldn't I be? After Percy, nothing is surprising,
really."
"Percy? But he has a girlfriend."
Ron chuckled. "Oh yeah, I forgot you don't know. Penelope used to be a
bloke. Her name was Alvin."
Harry gaped at him, but his response was short circuited by the sight of
Pansy Parkinson making a curious gesture to another Slytherin boy. By now well-attuned to the ways
of Slytherin House, Harry knew another party was in the works.
"I… Thanks, Ron. I have to go. But, thanks. And don't worry, I don't think
Malfoy likes me, anyway."
But Harry planned to find out, one way or the other.
Harry made his way through the Slytherin common room as quietly as possible.
The password had been easily overheard while he lurked in the hallway outside the Slytherin
dungeon. None of the residents had batted an eye when Harry had sneaked inside.
Only the older students were visible, mostly seventh-years. Harry's eyes
picked out Malfoy immediately, seated near the fireplace in a large chair with Pansy Parkinson
perched on the armrest. She held a small glass and talked animatedly, using her hands to gesture
with, regardless that she splashed her drink here and there with each movement.
Malfoy looked morose and paid no heed to Parkinson's conversation. Blaise
Zabini, on the floor near Malfoy's chair, spoke in muted tones, urging Parkinson to more flowery
antics with each quiet word.
Harry lurked against one wall, standing in an area that guaranteed no one
would stumble over his invisible frame, but still allow him a view of Malfoy. The "party" was
dreadfully dull and seemed to involve nothing more than Slytherins chatting and drinking. Harry
felt his eyelids grow heavy and he fought to stay awake as the hour grew late.
When Malfoy finally got to his feet, Harry nearly missed it. The blond was
halfway across the room before Harry blinked and then straightened. Malfoy was heading toward a set
of steps on the side of the room nearest Harry. Malfoy entered the stairwell and walked down into
the darkness. Harry scrambled to follow him and then slowed his steps to remain
undetected.
At the bottom of the steps, six doors led off from the main corridor and
Malfoy stopped before one. He spoke a word and the portal opened. Harry bolted as Malfoy stepped
inside. To his relief, the door shut slowly. He slipped through the narrowing entrance and then
felt his heart leap into his throat when he realized he had just shut himself into a room with
Draco Malfoy.
Harry looked around the room carefully. There were only two beds, very
ornate and ancient-looking, richly carved and draped with green fabric. Malfoy ignored the bed to
stride forward and seat himself before a small dressing table. He carefully set down the partially
empty glass he had been holding and began to sort through a stack of papers on the
tabletop.
While Malfoy was distracted, Harry quickly made his way to the bed. He
surreptitiously withdrew a folded piece of paper and placed it on the pillow. There was no doubt
about which bed was Malfoy's—the large black DM embroidered on the green coverlet was a
clue.
Malfoy drew a quill from a fancy silver holder after selecting a smooth
piece of parchment from the stack.
"Shall we write a letter to Potter, Tiberius?" Malfoy asked with a glance
toward an ornate cage that hung from a wrought-iron stand. The owl hooted softly and shifted from
foot to foot. "Something poetic, perhaps, about the way his eyes glow like emeralds in
moonlight?"
Malfoy snorted and Harry felt a qualm. It had been a joke, then. His eyes
darted to the letter on the pillow and he made to reach for it, intending to take it and leave, but
his cloak rustled against the bed curtain. A tiny sound, but it drew Malfoy's attention. To Harry's
chagrin, his eyes fixed immediately on the note.
The chair scraped on the floor as Malfoy got to his feet. Harry debated
snatching the note and fleeing, but he knew he wouldn't get far with Malfoy in his home domain.
With a sinking feeling, he moved backward toward the door as Malfoy grabbed up the note.
Malfoy drew in a surprised breath as his eyes scanned it. "Oh, fuck.
Tiberius, please tell me I did not write this note to Potter in a drunken stupor." He groaned. "If
Blaise found this I would be in for years of blackmail."
Harry stilled at his words. Malfoy did not remember writing the note? His
heart was in his throat as Malfoy turned the parchment over. The blond inhaled sharply when he saw
the words Harry had written.
Malfoy,
I realize this note is most likely a colossal joke, but if you are at all
serious, especially about the poorly crossed out bits, then it is possible that I might be
interested. If it's not a joke. And if it is, then fuck you.
HP
Malfoy read it several times while Harry scarcely dared to breathe, waiting
for laughter, or derision, or… something.
Finally, Malfoy muttered, "He might be interested. Merlin." He strode toward
the bed against the opposite wall and then spun and paced back, still clutching the note in both
hands. Despite Harry's borderline terror, he enjoyed watching Malfoy move. The blond was casually
dressed in perfectly tailored grey trousers and a dark-coloured jumper that was likely either
cashmere or silk. His legs were perfection, as was his slender waist and the exquisite arse
between. "Might be interested," Malfoy repeated.
He crossed back to the desk and spread the parchment flat before snatching
up his wand and casting a bright Lumos. He leaned down to examine it more closely while
mumbling, "Crossed out bits… What the bloody hell did I write…?"
Malfoy straightened with a gasp and the light from his wand extinguished,
leaving only the dim illumination from the lamp on the desk to limn Malfoy's blond hair.
"Salazar," Malfoy whispered. "I told the prat I wanted him to fuck me." He
swayed for a moment and Harry bit his lip in indecision, feeling guilty for witnessing Malfoy's
distress. "I sent this days ago! He and his friends have probably been laughing at me this entire
bloody week!"
Harry wanted to protest that it wasn't true, but in Malfoy's present state
he would like be hit with Avada Kedavra before he had time to speak.
Malfoy grabbed up the note and read it once more. "He might be interested. I
tell the idiot my darkest secret and he says he might be interested. The Chosen One might be
interested. Very funny." Malfoy crushed the note in his fist with a violent movement and
snarled. "I hope Potter and his friends are having a nice laugh over me and my pathetic
crush."
Malfoy's half-sob sounded loud in the room and Harry could stand it no
longer. "Malfoy," he said softly and let the cloak slide away from his head and
shoulders.
Malfoy's head jerked up and Harry leaped forward to grab his wrist before
the wand could level on him. Grey eyes glared at him while they silently wrestled for control of
the wand. Beneath Harry's fingers, Malfoy's pulse raced.
"Malfoy, stop," Harry said quietly. "It's not like that."
"Not like what?" Malfoy snarled. "I can't believe you—!"
Harry kissed him.
Malfoy stiffened in surprise and for a moment it felt like kissing a statue,
albeit one with very soft lips and alcohol-tinged breath, but Harry used his free hand to curve it
gently around the back of Malfoy's neck. The touch seemed to jolt Malfoy even more than the
kiss.
Harry pressed on, unwilling to give up in spite of the lack of response, and
then Malfoy made a sound that was almost a growl. He curved his free arm around Harry's waist and
pulled him even closer before returning the kiss with vigour.
It almost felt like an attack. Malfoy's tongue pressed between Harry's
parted lips and plunged inside, seeking domination. Harry might have been alarmed but for the
desperation he sensed beneath Malfoy's actions. That and the tension that fairly radiated from the
Slytherin.
Harry relaxed and let Malfoy take control, surrendering to the bruising
kiss. It was glorious. Harry had never felt dominated by anyone, not even the Dursleys, because he
knew he would one day be free of them, therefore he had never surrendered, not mentally, at any
rate. But this… This was different. It felt almost necessary to give in to Malfoy, to prove that he
was in control of the situation, not Harry.
To underscore the point, Harry loosened his grip on Malfoy's wrist and
allowed his thumb to caress lightly over the tiny ridges that surrounded his pulse point. He knew
it was a daring move—Malfoy's wand hand was basically free. He could use it to hex Harry at any
moment.
Malfoy jerked his hand free, but he did not break the kiss. A moment later,
Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand press against his ribs, digging in only lightly. He had nearly
forgotten it entirely by the time the kiss ended and Malfoy pulled back to look at him. Malfoy's
eyes were dark and fathomless. The arm around Harry's waist moved lower, suddenly, and a firm hand
gripped Harry's arse cheek.
Harry drew in a surprised breath and Malfoy nodded.
"How far do you plan to carry this little joke, Potter?"
Harry swallowed hard, not really surprised that Malfoy still thought him
capable of such a cruel hoax. Harry wrapped his fingers around the hand gripping his arse and
guided it around to the front, where he placed it over his rock-hard erection.
"Does that feel like a joke, Draco?" he asked quietly.
Malfoy's amazing eyes widened almost impossibly and Harry smiled before
leaning back in for another kiss. He pushed forward into Malfoy's hand, amazed at his temerity, but
half-quivering with need.
"Why?" Malfoy's voice was full of wonder.
Harry stopped kissing him long enough to frown at him reproachfully. "You
can ask me that after the quill-licking and the hair touching and that note? I can't get you
out of my head."
"Do you… want to?"
"Can I get back to you on that? I'm having difficulty thinking at the
moment." Harry thought that might be the understatement of the decade, because Malfoy had taken it
upon himself to move his hand, stroking his fingers lightly up and down the length of Harry's
cock.
"Don't you normally have that problem?" Malfoy whispered, but the barb
seemed almost an afterthought, and the movement of his hand became firmer, tearing a groan from
Harry's throat.
Harry's dropped his head forward to nibble lightly at the soft flesh of
Malfoy's neck, seeking to muffle his ragged gasps. The pressure of the wand in Harry's side
disappeared and then Malfoy was tugging at the waistband of Harry's trousers. It seemed to take
forever and Harry idly wondered if there was a spell to cause trousers to vanish entirely, because
he wanted nothing more than to be rid of them.
And then they fell to his knees and Malfoy slipping his hand into his pants
and touching his cock, and the sensation was indescribable. He marvelled at how different it was
from touching it himself and gasped as Malfoy's fingers explored the underside. His thumb dragged
over the tip, smearing wetness. Harry whimpered against Malfoy's neck.
Malfoy made an unintelligible sound that send heat tingling through Harry's
veins. Malfoy had made that sound because he was touching him. He needed to hear more of those
sounds, and thought perhaps touching Malfoy might drag forth a few more. It seemed like a brilliant
plan, especially considering he could barely form a coherent notion with the bliss electrifying his
synapses.
Harry forced his hands to move, seeking and finding the buttons that held
Malfoy's fancy trousers closed. He released them one by one with nearly inaudible pops and Malfoy's
hand on Harry's cock stilled with each one, as if the tiny movements required processing. At last
the final button lost its hold and Malfoy's trousers fell away, leaving him exposed to Harry's
questing grip, because he had apparently not found it necessary to wear pants, which made Harry's
mouth go completely dry even as he wrapped his hand around Malfoy's velvety soft, but oh-so-hard,
shaft.
The resulting choking sound was like music and Harry smiled. His fingers
explored, minutely exploring the differences between them, but he was far more interested in the
noises that issued from Malfoy and the way his fingers tightened convulsively on Harry's prick with
each motion.
Harry needed to kiss him again, so he did, and Malfoy seemed more than
amenable, except that they needed to stop frequently for panting gasps of air. Their knuckles kept
bumping and the whole thing was awkward… until Malfoy opened his hand and took both their cocks in
hand. Harry moaned at the feel of Malfoy's hardness against his own and he quickly followed suit,
resting his partially closed hand atop Malfoy's and letting him set the pace.
They stroked in unison, gasping hot, wet breaths against each other's lips
while holding each other tightly for balance. Harry's free hand was clenched around Malfoy's neck
while Malfoy's hand dug into Harry's arse cheek, hard enough that he would find fingerprint-shaped
bruises there the next day.
Harry's orgasm built like nothing he had ever felt. He could tell by the
overwhelming tightness in his groin that it would be something special and he was not disappointed.
He barely had time to choke out a sound that was almost a warning before his climax ripped through
him.
Malfoy muffled his scream with a kiss. Harry vaguely felt Malfoy's cock
twitching along the length of his fingers and was even more turned-on by the thought of them coming
together, their hot release spurting and mingling together, splashing over hands and shirts in a
delightful mess.
Harry kept kissing him, because it seemed important, somehow. He released
their softening cocks, however, and reached around to splay his hand over Malfoy's arse, squeezing,
and feeling somewhat smug when he smeared wetness over the brilliant perfection.
"I should go," he said quietly and felt a frisson of panic when he realized
neither of them had cast a Locking Charm and any number of Slytherins could walk in and discover
them at any moment.
"Should you?" Malfoy asked, nibbling at Harry's lips.
"Ungh," Harry replied, unable to move despite his worry.
"I thought you might want to spend the night," Malfoy said with a hint of
challenge in his voice.
Harry stared at him in surprise. Images flooded his brain, causing his jaw
to gape open at the thought of sleeping next to Malfoy, waking up next to Malfoy, touching Malfoy
during the night…
"Okay," he said in a choked tone.
"Okay?" Malfoy repeated.
Harry nodded, feeling suddenly foolish. What if he had been
joking?
"Okay," Malfoy said again, this time in a breathy tone that did funny things
to Harry's insides.
"Okay," Harry replied and laughed. As Malfoy manoeuvred him toward the bed,
he made a mental note to thank the makers of Firewhiskey.
End
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