Draco traipsed carelessly through the Forbidden Forest
because he was a Malfoy and if a Malfoy felt like traipsing then he would traipse and anyone who
had a problem with that could... Well, no one would have a problem with it because Draco was
quite alone at the moment. And looking for illegal potions ingredients always put him in a
traipsing mood. He even though about humming a happy tune, but sometimes that attracted irritating
creatures like fairies and mentally-challenged songbirds.
As if called by the wayward thought, a small feathered shape hurtled through
the air, narrowly missed Draco's face, spun into the air in an unspectacular loop, and then
plummeted straight down to tangle in Draco's hair with an excessive amount of chirping and
flapping, possibly exacerbated by Draco's girlish screams as he fought to bat the creature out of
his hair. After all, it was in his hair.
The tiny creature was at last knocked to the forest floor where it lay
still, either unconscious or too tired to lift a feather. Draco readied his wand in case the bird
recovered and decided to attack again, although it did not look very terrifying lying in a heap of
ruffled white feathers. After watching it warily for several heartbeats, Draco poked it with his
wand tip. It did not move.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. He was of half a mind to leave the stupid
creature to be eaten by some fanged denizen of the Forest, but he pictured the frowny look his
mother's face acquired whenever she prattled on about "compassion" and "mercy" and tripe like that.
For some reason, he also pictured the frowny look Potter's face acquired whenever he caught Draco
doing something particularly heinous--sort of a daily event, certainly--and it nearly made him dust
off his hands and walk away. Then he pictured the frowny look changing to one of astonishment when
he learned that he, Draco Malfoy, had singlehandedly saved the life of a precious little helpless
forest creature.
Wrinkling his nose, Draco bent down and picked up the bird by one wing. It
did not erupt into a flurry of flapping, but instead dangled limply. Draco frowned, wondering if he
had killed the precious little helpless forest creature. Potter's frowny face loomed in his vision
and Draco put away his wand and cradled the bird in both hands. He pressed an ear against the tiny
white chest and felt a staccato heartbeat with something akin to relief as Potter's disapproving
visage disappeared.
"Poor little birdy," he said aloud and then made his own frowny face because
it sounded faker than Pansy trying to convince Blaise that she hadn't sucked off that nerdy
Ravenclaw sixth year under the Quidditch stands last Tuesday. He tried again using the wheedling
tone he turned on his mother whenever he wanted something particularly expensive. "Poor little
helpless birdy. Don't worry, Draco is here. I will take you back to the dorm with me. I will pet
you and pat you and feed you ridiculously costly food and I will call you..." He paused and tried
to think of a suitable name for something with a brain the size of a shriveled pea. He smirked. "I
will call you Harry."
XXX
Draco carried the tiny bird back to the Slytherin dungeon, cradling it in
the sleeve of his robe to avoid ridicule. It would be amusing to be lauded as a hero to the other
Houses, but his fellow Slytherins would think was crazier than Goyle when he accidentally ate his
own sock thinking it was a discarded pastry.
The common room was nearly empty when Draco slithered through. He countered
the curious stares of several second year Slytherins with a quelling glare of superiority and they
quickly returned to their studies. Draco sneered. The people that stupid hat allowed into Slytherin
these days. It was disgraceful. He doubted that lot would even make proper minions one day. He
proceeded straight to his dorm where he climbed onto his bed and yanked the curtains shut, even
though none of his dorm mates were present. He cast a Silencing Charm and placed his feathered
charge on his pillow before stretching out on the bed to stare at it.
"All right, bird. I mean Harry. Wake up, now." Draco prodded the avian
creature with his index finger and then sighed and stroked the pale feathers of its tiny head.
After a few moments the animal twitched and opened its eyes. It exploded into sudden motion,
fluttering into the air with a startled chirp. Draco watched in amazement as it bounced off the
canopy, careened into the curtain, and spun back to the bed to lie in a crumpled heap.
Draco snatched the bird before it could take flight again. "Stop it!" he
ordered. "You need to calm down. For one thing, you're the worst flyer I've ever seen."
The bird struggled in his hand and gave an angry-sounding chirp. Draco
scowled. "Protest all you like, but it's true. In your defense, you might be injured, eh? No hold
still so I can check."
It seemed to understand, because it stopped fighting to free itself. Draco
loosened his grip slightly, not trusting its placidity. "I named you Harry, by the way, because you
seem to be fairly stupid. I'm glad to see you were properly named."
Draco yelped and released the creature. "Ouch! You ungrateful pest! That
hurt." He massaged his hand where the bird had pecked him. The white animal did not try to fly, but
walked a short distance away to peer at Draco with head cocked. "Peck me again and I'll toss you
back in the forest. I'm sure you'll be a tasty treat for a wolf or fox."
Harry the Bird turned his back on Draco, rather disdainfully, it
seemed.
"Stupid bird," Draco muttered.
XXX
"Come here, Harry. I want to see if your wing is broken," Draco said to his
annoying new pet. The white bird had waddled away from him to the farthest corner of the bed. It
seemed to be ignoring him. Draco reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out something wrapped
in paper. "I have chocolate," he added in a wheedling tone and peeled away a strip of the wrapping
to expose the chocolately goodness.
The bird turned around and cocked a head at him. Draco broke off a piece and
stretched out his hand toward the bird. He was not sure if birds ate chocolate, but the animal took
a tentative step forward. Perhaps it was just hungry. He did not recall his owl ever eating sweets.
Of course, Draco had a tendency to hoard his treats like a starving wolf guarding a fresh
kill.
"Come on. It's tasty. Very expensive, of course. Imported from
Sweden."
The bird hopped across the green bedding and took a tentative peck at the
chocolate. Draco restrained his urge to snatch the creature and instead placed his other hand, palm
upraised, on the blanket.
"I won't hurt you," he promised and thought he might even have meant it. The
bird took another peck at the sweet and then hopped lightly into Draco's palm. He nearly crowed
with triumph. "Good Harry," he said happily.
Harry nibbled at the chocolate while Draco carefully examined his wings. The
bird made a frantic chirp and flapped madly when his right wing was stretched to full
span.
"All right, you're injured. Don't make it worse. I don't think it's broken."
Draco felt the small bones tentatively, just to be safe. "I don't feel any breaks. You must have
sprained it. No wonder you can't fly for shite." Harry pecked his palm lightly as if in reprimand.
Draco grinned.
"Well, you obviously will not be flying for a while. You should rest. I
suppose I should find out what sort of bird you are so that I can feed you properly. Do you want to
come to the library with me?"
Harry fluttered up to Draco's shoulder and he frowned at the bird. "I said
no flying. Mind you, I am only keeping you until you are well enough to go back to the
forest."
The bird chirped and Draco ran a finger over the soft white breast. He could
barely feel the tiny claws clamped onto his shoulder. Such a small bird was vastly different from
his huge owl. He stroked it once more. "I guess you aren't that bad," he admitted.
He flung his bedcovers aside and headed for the library.
XXX
As luck would have it, Draco ran straight into Granger and the Weasel in the
library. Of course, the bushy-haired Gryffindor seldom left the library, so it was seldom possible
to avoid her presence on any random trip there. Apparently Potter had escaped the need to study,
most likely by hobnobbing with Dumbledore, heroically destroying some wayward evil, or granting an
interview to the Daily Prophet.
All eyes fixed on Draco and he preened for a moment under the attention.
Luna Lovegood drifted over to peer at the bird. Normally Draco avoided the insane Ravenclaw like
the plague, but at the moment her odd eyes were lit up with admiration so he refrained from
mentioning that her wardrobe resembled the cast off rags worn by house-elves. "Do you have a new
pet, Draco?"
"Not really. It's just a poor defenseless woodland creature I rescued from
certain death. I named him Harry because he's quite stupid, very lucky, and should be
dead."
The bird chirped and Draco thought it sounded a bit annoyed. He patted its
head to shush it. "Come along, Harry." He smirked at Potter's little minions. Granger had one claw
attached to the Weasel's arm and was hissing in his ear, no doubt talking the glaring redhead out
of doing something stupid, like hexing Draco. Harry made a forlorn cooing sound and Draco patted
his head again. "Don't be afraid of the Gryffindors, Harry. They act like rabid dogs, but they
won't actually eat you."
He breezed by the gaping Gryffindors and into the forest of bookshelves. An
hour later, Harry was asleep on Draco's shoulder with his head tucked under a wing, but he awakened
when Draco sat back with a sigh. "There. I think I found what you are, Harry. A Peace Dove. Pure
white with a black beak and black feet. And beady black eyes, of course."
Harry hopped down onto the book and tipped his head as if studying the photo
of the identical white bird. The avian creature in the picture flapped its wings and opened its
beak soundlessly. Harry chirped.
"It's just a picture, you dolt. Don't worry; you can join your own kind as
soon as you are well. Did you know you are a magical bird? Apparently your song can induce feelings
of peace and goodwill in humans." Draco snorted. "Potter should send you to
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You can sing and the Dark Lord will turn benevolent and good."
The thought gave Draco a round or two of guffawing chuckles, but Harry
seemed less than amused. He chirped forlornly until Draco picked him up and deposited him back to
his shoulder perch.
"No, Harry, I won't let the Chosen One send you to the Dark Lord. The freak
would probably feed you to his giant snake." Draco frowned at the thought and gave the bird a
gentle squeeze. "I'll protect you, Harry. At least I know what you eat now. Let's go to the kitchen
and get you some nice berries. And no more chocolate. Apparently it's bad for birds."
Harry gave a forlorn coo and Draco relented as he exited the library. "Well…
maybe a tiny bit. You do seem to enjoy it."
XXX
Draco grabbed a nearly empty box of raspberry crèmes from its hiding place
at the bottom of his trunk. He stuffed one of the sweets into his mouth and tucked the other two
into a corner of the trunk with a mental note to eat them before they became stale. Harry watched
curiously from his perch on Draco's shoulder as he set the box in the center of his bed.
Draco had skipped dinner in the Great Hall after sneaking to the kitchen to
procure some berries and nuts for his bird. The house elves had supplied him with a selection of
sandwiches, so he had eaten one before returning to the Slytherin common room to go through his
trunk.
"All right, Harry. This should do, although it's a bit plebian at the
moment." Draco tapped the box with his wand and Transfigured the thin wood into fine mahogany. The
shiny paper interior was quickly turned into green velvet and tucked back into the box.
Draco lifted the newly remodeled item and set it next to his pillow before
gripping the white bird and setting him gently in the box. "There. Your new bed. You should like it
since it smells like chocolate."
Harry chirped, but made no move to settle into his new home. Draco sighed
and began to disrobe. "I'll buy you a fancy cage tomorrow, all right? Just sleep there for one
night like a good bird."
He carefully folded his clothes and put them into the hamper for collection
by the house-elves before crawling beneath the covers. He never wore pyjamas at Hogwarts,
preferring the rebellion of wearing only boxers to bed. His parents would consider it uncouth if he
attempted it at home. Draco settled his head into the pillow and shivered slightly until his body
warmed the cold sheets. He could have cast a Warming Charm but it was hardly worth the effort most
of the time.
Harry cooed and Draco stared at the bird, who had fluffed himself into a
white ball-like shape. Draco pursed his lips. "Are you trying to tell me you are cold? How can you
possibly be cold? You live in the frigid forest."
The bird turned in a stiff half-circle until he faced away from Draco, an
obvious sign of disdain. "They don't make blankets for birds," Draco said sharply. Harry made a
barely audible sound that was most likely bird-speak for sarcasm.
He reached out and snatched the ball of feathers. "Oh all right. But if I
crush you to death in the night, remember it's your fault entirely." He placed the bird near his
pillow and was surprised when Harry snuggled into the hollow of his throat. "I guess you really
were cold," he admitted. He yawned and stroked his fingers lightly over the soft
feathers.
"Goodnight, Harry," he murmured.
A soft coo answered him and he drifted off to sleep.
XXX
Draco woke to the feel of a warm body pressed tightly against his back. An
arm crossed his ribs and his buttocks were nestled in the curve of someone's groin.
"Blaise, didn't I tell you not to crawl into my bed? I'm not interested," he
said sleepily. A gasp sounded near his ear and the arm withdrew, but Draco snatched the wrist
before Blaise could escape. "Wait, you're warm. You can stay a while."
He dragged the arm back and tucked it against his chest before snuggling
more firmly against the—for Merlin's sake—naked body wrapped around his. Blaise was a cocky
bastard, that was certain. Draco thought he had given up and turned his attention to Pansy, but
perhaps he had found out about the Ravenclaw. Draco smirked drowsily.
His eyes snapped open suddenly. "Where's Harry?" he demanded.
"Um… he's fine," a husky voice whispered. "In his box."
Draco relaxed again. "Oh good. I knew he would like his box once he got used
to it. Silly bird."
He tried to drift back to sleep, but the knowledge that a naked body was
pressed quite intimately to his made it difficult to slumber, especially when it was rather obvious
that his bed partner was awake. The coiled tension was obvious with every breath. Draco
sighed.
"Since you're here, you might as well make yourself useful," Draco decided.
"Consider it your punishment for creeping into my bed uninvited, Zabini." He twined his fingers
with Blaise's and guided the hand downward to slip beneath his pants. His prick was less than
erect, but it was Blaise's job to fix that. Draco wrapped both their hands around his cock and then
let go. Blaise's warm hand stayed where it was as though frozen.
Draco made a huffing sound. "Honestly, Blaise, you came to me. Either get
busy or get lost."
He fully expected Blaise to huff off with a snarl, but Zabini surprised him
by stroking tentatively. He must really be desperate for sex, Draco thought. Pansy must have cut
him off completely. He nearly chuckled aloud, but it turned into a gasp when a long, firm stroke
covered his length from base to tip.
"Oh," he said. "That's nice, Blaise." He almost added, You must have been
practicing, but he did not want the boy to stop, so he restrained himself. The delicious
strokes became longer and stronger and Draco shut his eyes tightly to enjoy every
sensation.
"Yes, yes, oh that's good," he murmured and then shivered delightfully as
his orgasm rushed through him, spilling liquid over the hand that held him. He almost purred in
satisfaction, but restrained the urge as he fumbled beneath his pillow for his wand. No sense in
swelling Blaise's already overstuffed ego.
Draco cast a nearly soundless Cleaning Charm and smirked at the hard length
nestled against his arse cheeks. "Forget it, Blaise. I already told you you'll never fuck me. Feel
free to go take care of yourself elsewhere."
Blaise's hand withdrew and Draco tugged his pants back up. The warm body
moved away and Draco felt a momentary stab of guilt. It wasn't Blaise's fault he was an oversexed
cur with unrequited lust for Draco. "Ah… and thanks. Goodnight, Blaise."
Soft lips pressed beneath his ear in a gentle kiss. "Goodnight, Draco," a
voice whispered. The warmth left his side and Draco's eyes snapped open in surprise. Blaise never
kissed anyone. Never, ever. Something was wrong. Draco rolled over to see the dark shape next to
the bed flip the hood of Draco's dressing gown over his head.
"Hey, that's mine," he protested as he sat up. The curtains parted and Draco
caught the flash of a pale hand in the moonlight as the boy departed.
A pale hand. Holy fuck, it wasn't Blaise! Draco bolted from the bed
and stuck his head through the curtains to see the door shut. "Goddamn it!" he snarled. "Come on,
Harry, we have a sneaky pervert to catch!" He reached into the box next to his pillow, but his hand
encountered only empty air.
Harry was gone.
XXX
Draco glared at the large woman in the portrait. "Let me in," he snarled
without preamble.
She sniffed, obviously looking down at his Slytherin attire. "Password," she
said.
"I don't know the bloody password because I am not a bloody Gryffindor,"
Draco growled. "I need to speak to Potter and his bloody minions now!"
"No admittance without the password," she said in a singsong tone with a
rather malicious grin.
Draco sent a Banging Charm against the portrait. The Fat Lady shrieked.
"Stop that! You'll ruin my paint!"
"Then let me in!" Draco bellowed when the thunder had died away. There was
no response, so he leveled his wand and let fly another. The reverberations gonged through the
hallway loudly. The woman in the portrait fled with a scream. After two more Charms, the portrait
swung open to reveal a hole with a sleepy-looking Gryffindor therein. The child rubbed at his eyes.
Draco assumed it was a first or second year; he did not care which as he pushed past.
"Hey! What you doin'? You know it's four in the mornin'?"
"I need to see Potter. Which way to his room?"
"You ain't supposed to be in 'ere!"
Draco reached out and snatched the boy up by his collar until he nearly
dangled on tiptoes. "Listen, you, I'm in no bloody mood for this. Where. Is. Potter?"
The boy threw out an arm and pointed. Draco tossed him against the wall and
stalked up the indicated stairs. He was in a fine snit. He had searched the Slytherin dungeons in a
near-naked state, searching for whoever had stolen his dressing gown and his pet. None of the
Slytherin boys had seemed to be the culprit, which left Weasley and Granger as the people most
likely to have concocted the plot. His skin crawled horribly at the thought of Weasley in his bed.
If it had been, he would simply have to murder the git. And then take fifty thousand
baths.
The door to the Gryffindor dorm room slammed open with an impressive bang,
startling all the residents from slumber. Each of the bedcurtains was wide open. Draco sneered.
Stupid, trusting Gryffindors could not even understand the meaning of privacy.
Potter looked somewhat alert with his horrific mass of hair sticking out in
all directions; he already had his wand in hand, but Weasley gaped at Draco like a landed trout as
he stalked forward to brandish his hawthorn wand beneath the freckled nose.
"WHERE IS MY BIRD?" Draco demanded.
Weasley's mouth widened further and his eyes goggled. "Wha—?" he asked
intelligently.
"Don't play stupid with me, Weasley, even though I realize it is your
natural condition. Just tell me where my bird is and you might live another day."
Potter's voice cut through Draco's haze of rage. "He doesn't have your bird,
Malfoy."
Draco's eyes flicked to the bloody Chosen One. He apparently preferred to
sleep in the same outfit as Draco—or less. It was hard to tell with the covers bunched around his
midsection, but his torso was bare and corded with a surprising number of muscles. The scrawny git
had been hiding that under his ridiculous oversized clothing?
"I'm getting McGonagall," Weasley muttered and bypassed Draco like a shot.
Longbottom and the other two Gryffindor residents followed, leaving Potter to his fate. So much for
Gryffindor courage. Idiots.
Draco walked to Potter's bed, steadfastly ignoring the holly wand held with
casual menace. Draco strove for the same attitude and kept his eyes fixed on Potter's. He wondered
if the prat could even see him without his glasses; his specs were still on the bedside
table.
Draco rested one knee on the bed and leaned over until Potter's wand tip
rested against his sternum. "Where is Harry?" he demanded though clenched teeth.
Potter's wand fell away and a hand reached up to twist into the collar of
Draco's shirt. "I'm right here, Draco," he murmured and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Draco's
eyes widened impossibly and he forgot to breathe, which would have been difficult, anyway, with
Potter's lips drinking the air from his lungs. Potter's tongue flicked against his lips for a
moment. What the hell was Potter playing at?
Draco's pulse raced as Potter's soft lips nibbled at his. It figured the
bloody Savior would even kiss fabulously and then it clicked—whoever had been in Draco's bed had
talked. Potter knew Draco liked boys. The bastard!
He pushed himself away from Potter so violently that he nearly tripped and
fell on his arse. His eyes stared into emerald for a moment and then the door flew open once
more.
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGongall yelled. "What is the meaning of this? Twenty points
from Slytherin for forcing your way into the Gryffindor dormitories and threatening the residents!
Leave here at once!"
With one baleful glare at Potter, Draco left.
XXX
Draco tried to shake his feeling of despondency, but the simmering anger
left by the loss of his bird and the traitorous theft by the Gryffindors, complicated by Potter's
shocking behavior, put him in a black mood that left most of Slytherin house quaking in their boots
should they be unlucky enough to draw his attention. Crabbe and Goyle had deserted him after a
particularly brutal tongue-lashing earlier that morning.
He had spent the remainder of Sunday trying, without success, to dredge up
some clue as to where Harry had gone. Even trapping Longbottom and tormenting the boy until he was
in tears gave Draco no new evidence. Longbottom had not seen the bird and had no idea what Draco
sought. A bit of Legilimency had ascertained the truth of Longbottom's sobs, much to Draco's
annoyance. It had to have been one of Potter's close clan… or Potter himself.
The thought that it may have been the Golden Boy in Draco's bed left him
with sweating palms and a fluttering sensation in his gut, but he rejected the idea immediately.
Potter might have stolen the bird to be an arsehole, but he would never have touched Draco so
intimately, despite what that incredible kiss might have suggested. Draco refused to think about
that. At all.
Draco had finally given up tormenting Gryffindors and gone to bed, vowing
never to acquire another pet as long as he lived. He despised the feeling of loss and was
particularly irritated with himself for becoming attached to the stupid bird after only one day.
Still, Harry had needed him. He had been injured and… Well, fuck, Draco missed the fluffy
cooing thing and he vowed revenge on whatever bastard had snatched it.
Classes on Monday were torment and he spent most of his time glaring
balefully at Potter's unconcerned visage or bullying anyone within range. At lunchtime he poked at
his food with disinterest until a nondescript school owl dropped a letter in front of his plate. It
read: If you really want to know about the bird, meet me in front of the Room of Hidden Things
at 11 pm. Come alone.
Draco crumpled the message. His gaze shot to the Gryffindor table, but the
Trio of Idiocy was giggling merrily at the antics of Finnegan, who seemed to take an unnatural
delight in playing with his food. Immature louts, the lot of them.
Although he somewhat suspected a trap, Draco lay awake until the appointed
time and then made his way up the myriad steps to the Room of Hidden Things. Potter lounged against
the wall, making Draco want to leap on him and wrap his fingers around the slender throat. Without
so much as a greeting, the Gryffindor pushed away from the wall and walked in front of the blank
wall a few times until a door appeared.
Potter held it open for Draco, who felt he might be walking to his doom. How
long until someone found his body if Potter decided to do away with him? He raised his chin a notch
and breezed by the black-haired boy as if he hadn't a care in the world.
The room was a bizarre recreation of the Gryffindor common room and Draco
frowned in annoyance. Potter tossed a large duffel bag onto the couch.
"Sorry," Potter said with a grin. "I just wanted somewhere I could feel
comfortable. You can sit down."
"I don't want to sit down, Potter. I want to know what happened to my
bird."
"I would never expect you to get so attached to an animal," Potter said in a
conversational tone.
Draco sneered. "That shows how much you know about me, Potter."
The Gryffindor shrugged. "Nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised. You seem
really depressed about the loss."
"The theft, you mean," Draco retorted with a glare.
"It wasn't quite what you think."
Draco refrained from tapping his foot on the floor and waited patiently for
Potter to get to the point. The Gryffindor tugged at his hair and Draco wondered idly if he would
scuff his foot on the floor like a wayward child.
"The truth is, I'm an unregistered Animagus," Potter blurted.
It took a moment for the words to sink it. By the time Draco fully
understood, Potter had blurred, shifted, and disappeared. A white shape fluttered around the room
and landed on the back of a chair near Draco. It cocked its head and peered at him through black
eyes.
"Harry," Draco said in wonder. The colossal irony nearly overwhelmed him and
he sank into the chair to bury his head in his hands. Life was too ridiculously cruel at times. His
irritating stupid pet not only acted like Harry Potter, it was Harry Potter. Hysterical
laughter threatened to bubble up and he choked it back with a groan. He heard a loud chirp and a
ghosting of wings brushed near his hair before the bird fluttered away.
Potter cleared his throat and Draco raised his head to see the Gryffindor
standing behind the couch. The sight of his bare flesh made Draco's brows shoot upward. Potter
blushed nearly scarlet. "The thing is… I haven't figured out how to change back with my personal
effects. My clothes and my wand always disappear. I always find my wand in the Gryffindor dorm next
to my bed, but my clothes… I don't know where they go."
"You're not wearing clothes?" Draco asked mildly.
Potter scowled and reached over the back of the couch for the bag. "Didn't I
just say that? Anyway, I haven't told Ron and Hermione about this yet, because it's embarrassing.
That day you found me in the forest I had gone out for a test flight and was nearly killed by a
hawk. It injured my wing and I could hardly fly." Potter paused in digging through the bag. "So…
um, thanks. For helping me. Even though you didn't know it was me. And here is your dressing gown
back."
Potter yanked Draco's green dressing gown from the bag and set it on the
couch with another dark blush. Draco immediately recalled the events leading up to the
disappearance of the garment and he felt warmth flood into his cheeks, as well.
Draco got to his feet and walked toward the couch, slightly amused at
Potter's downcast gaze; he seemed unwilling to meet Draco's eyes. Draco ignored the offered
dressing gown and instead walked around the couch to stand next to the startled Gryffindor. Potter
snatched the garment close to clutch it against his front like a shield.
"What are you doing?" Potter asked with obvious alarm.
Draco halted when he was close enough to touch Potter by simply leaning
forward a centimeter or two. "Why did you kiss me?" Draco countered.
Gryffindor to the end, Potter did not move away, but his blush darkened and
he still would not meet Draco's eyes. His voice was a bare whisper. "Because I wanted
to."
Draco tipped his head forward and asked, "And you were in my bed
because…?"
"I didn't mean to fall asleep, but I was cold and you were warm and I sort
of drifted off. I must have changed back in my sleep."
"And you let me think you were Blaise."
Potter nodded and Draco felt the tips of his hair brush against his cheek
with the movement.
"Well, then, I suppose I owe you one," Draco purred and let his hand slip
beneath the green silk to touch Potter's abdomen. The Gryffindor leaped backward and cracked his
hip against the back of the couch. Draco moved forward, effectively trapping him. "Don't be
nervous, Potter, you've already felt me up. Tit for tat and all that." Draco's hand moved
purposefully downward and he gripped Potter's cock, already pleasantly hard. Draco smirked, but the
Gryffindor's nervous panting was more satisfying than any witty retort, as was the moan that seemed
wrenched from Potter's throat.
Draco stroked wickedly and was surprised to find himself enjoying the feel
of Potter and the damned sounds he made—fuck if they weren't astoundingly hot. He felt his own
erection strain against the constriction of his trousers. The dressing gown fell away and Draco
feasted on the sight of Potter's naked body, taut and shivering.
Potter had no staying power, thankfully, because Draco thought he might come
just from the sight and sensation of giving Harry Potter a hand job. Potter's release was explosive
and his head tipped back beautifully as hot liquid spilled over Draco's fingers. He gave in to
temptation and pressed his mouth against Potter's neck, sucking lightly as his teeth marked the
Chosen One as his own personal property. Potter's fingers were fastened on Draco's sleeves and they
detached slowly as Draco left off branding the Gryffindor and stepped away.
Without pausing to think, Draco made his way to the door with a flippant,
"You can keep the dressing gown."
He paused with his hand on the latch and looked back. Potter still leaned
against the back of the couch, looking shaken. "Hey, Potter?"
The intense gaze fastened on his and Draco smiled with all the Slytherin
wickedness he could muster.
"I'd let you fuck me," he said and went out.
XXX
Draco barely caught more than a glimpse of Potter over the next two days. He
was somewhat puzzled by the Gryffindor's behavior. He seldom appeared for meals and he studiously
avoided Draco's gaze in their shared classes. Draco wondered if Potter regretted their last
encounter and decided it was likely. So much for Gryffindor bravery, he thought
derisively.
Still, Draco felt strangely complacent. It might have been due to the fact
that he had wanked to the memory of Potter at least eight times in the past two days, but it was
more likely due to the knowledge that things were not finished between them. Potter could deny it
all he wanted, but Draco knew it was only a matter of time.
Draco sat in what was unofficially called the Slytherin Courtyard watching
Pansy shriek at Blaise while Crabbe and Goyle played gobstones. He had grown bored with Pansy's
pathetic denials of culpability and Blaise's angry sneers. A flicker of white caught Draco's
attention and he caught his breath when a tiny white bird fluttered from the sky and landed on his
shoulder.
Harry chirped loudly and Draco unconsciously reached up to stroke the soft
feathers of his breast. Animagus or not, the Gryffindor was a terribly cute bird. Draco held out
his hand and Harry hopped onto his palm. He noticed a piece of parchment wrapped around the bird's
leg and carefully removed it.
He smoothed the message out with two fingers and read it. Want to skive
off History of Magic? He lifted a brow at the bird, which cocked his head in that endearing
manner and cooed. Draco suppressed a grin and got to his feet.
"I have a headache," Draco announced breezily to Crabbe and Goyle as he
placed Harry back on his shoulder. "I'm going to go lie down. Don't look for me in
class."
He walked briskly to the Slytherin dorm and cast several Locking Charms that
would take a professor to unlock. His wand hand shook slightly when he realized what he was doing.
He had just locked himself in with Harry Potter.
That fact was less alarming when he was suddenly knocked backward onto his
bed with an armful of naked Gryffindor. Potter's lips fastened onto his eagerly and Draco
surrendered to Potter's amazing kissing ability. They snogged for long minutes and Draco felt
Potter's hands slide over his bare chest with some surprise. He had not even noticed Potter
unbuttoning his shirt. Black hair tickled his cheek as the Gryffindor kissed a path down Draco's
throat to nibble at his collarbone.
"You keep surprising me, Malfoy," Potter murmured. "Two days and not a word
in the Daily Prophet." Potter's lips continued their downward journey. "Nor have your friends
tormented me more than usual." A hot, wet tongue flicked into Draco's navel. "What
gives?"
"Potter," Draco said even though his voice was less steady than he would
have chosen, "You constantly underestimate me."
The dark head rose and emerald eyes held Draco's gaze. "I'm serious. The Boy
Who Lived is a gay Animagus. Surely you could have put that information to some use?"
Draco's hand slipped into Potter's too-thick hair and then yanked sharply.
Potter winced, but said nothing when Draco replied, "You obviously have no concept of the nature of
power, Potter. How am I supposed to blackmail you if I run to the papers and tell tales all over
school? I'm not quite as stupid as you Gryffindors believe."
"I never thought you were stupid, Draco," Potter said earnestly.
Draco scowled and pulled Potter's hair again. "Stop doing that."
"Ow. Stop doing what?"
"Stop making me like you."
"You like me when I have feathers."
"That's because you don't speak."
"I'll stop speaking, then." Potter returned his mouth to Draco's navel… and
then blissfully lower. His deft fingers removed the trousers as quickly as he had unbuttoned the
shirt, making Draco wonder if he had lied about losing his wand when he transformed. "Um… what do I
do now?"
"Merlin, Potter, you're doing quite well on your own," Draco admitted,
groaning as Potter's hand caressed his erection.
"You said you'd let me… I've… um, never done it before," Potter admitted and
blushed.
Draco felt a rush fueled by the light strokes of Potter's hand. He found his
voice with difficulty. "I'll… oh, Merlin!" The last word was wrenched from him by the feel of
Potter's tongue sliding over his cock with a delicious wet-hot pressure. He would never admit to
Potter that his only experiences had been fumbling hand jobs with Blaise. He had not even allowed
Blaise to suck him off, because he knew Zabini would expect him to reciprocate. He had, however,
studied copious amounts of porn and felt confident enough to guide Potter through the process. If
he could only think for a moment.
He tugged at Potter's hair again and found he rather liked having his hand
wrapped in the impossible softness. "Stop, Potter. You have to stop or I'll come."
"Isn't that the point?" the Gryffindor purred and licked the head of Draco's
cock. Draco shivered and pulled his hair again sharply.
"Yes, but not yet. Now pay attention."
Draco guided Potter through the various steps of lubrication, finger
insertion, stretching, and nearly came seventeen times as Potter fumbled through the process. By
the time Potter's cock actually hovered over Draco's aching opening he was drenched with sweat and
throbbing with need. Potter's gentle intensity was erotic beyond belief.
"Okay, now," Draco said and bit his lip. Potter's eyes fixed on his and
Draco forced himself to stare into the green orbs. He was glad he had when they grew round and
filled with something like awe as Potter slowly filled Draco, binding them together in a moment
that neither would ever forget.
"Draco," Potter said in a tone Draco had never heard before. His hand slid
out of Potter's dark hair and caressed the edge of his jaw. Potter leaned in to his touch and
Draco's thumb brushed across Potter's lips. Funny how he had never thought of Potter as beautiful
before. Attractive, yes, and hot sometimes, but now the Gryffindor seemed like
perfection.
"Harry," he replied. The answering kiss left him breathless.
They moved together then, Harry's strokes tentative at first until Draco
lifted his hips to meet each thrust and pull Harry deeper. It was unpleasant and awkward and
slippery and altogether glorious.
"I can't…! Oh Merlin, Draco, you're so…" Harry cried out and tensed sharply
over him. Draco felt the Gryffindor quiver beneath his hands and let his own orgasm come in a
blissful rush. Harry sagged over him like a deflated balloon and Draco's hand skated through the
damp hair at Potter's nape. He felt strangely content.
Harry's head rose after a time and he looked at Draco with a dark brow
cocked. "What do you mean blackmail?"
A surprised chuckle escaped Draco. "A bit late to ask about that, don't you
think?"
"I was distracted," Harry said with a blush. Draco restrained himself from
caressing his face again, barely.
"Since you're finally asking, I want my bird back."
Harry blinked at him. "What? But I can't—"
"Not all the time, of course. I can probably assist you with your silly
inability to transform with your personal effects. Not that I have a problem with the nakedness
portion…"
"You'd help me?" Harry had less restraint than Draco, obviously, because his
fingers skirted the edge of Draco's jaw and drew circular patterns near his ear. It was damned
diverting.
"Of course, Potter. For a price."
A smiled curved Harry's lips. "What sort of price?"
"I'll think of something," Draco said and dragged his pet Animagus into a
kiss.
End
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