Fic Update: Shaken and Stirred 2/9
Jul. 18th, 2010 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dripping_cherryTitle: Shaken and Stirred 2/9
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drippingcherry
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~3,400 this chapter
Beta/britpick:groolover and nursedarry. Thank for all your help!
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: This is the story of how Harry and Draco fell in love—in nine drinks.
A/N: Written for my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
schmoop_bingo card.
Harry woke up with a pounding headache and a kink in his neck. When at last he felt up to opening a single eye, he knew by the familiar tapestries decorating the walls that he was in the eighth-year common room. He had fallen sleep on the sofa, and now his neck and shoulder muscles were kicking his arse for it. Exactly why he had stayed behind after everyone else had gone off to bed, he couldn't remember. He shut his eye again and held his aching, spinning head in his hands. If he moved even the tiniest bit, he would vomit all over the rug.
The sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt fell toward his face as he pressed the heels of his hands into his temples, and he noticed that he smelled strange. Not bad—just different. It was a foreign scent, as if he had borrowed someone else's clothes or had prolonged body contact with another boy. A glance down at his Falmouth Falcons hoodie confirmed that it wasn't the former. He groaned, worried that he'd done something he would regret.
Last time he'd got this pissed, at the celebration that followed the rebuilding of Hogwarts, he'd led Justin Finch-Fletchley to a dark, empty classroom and snogged him for an hour. Afterwards Justin had somehow got it in his head that they were a couple, and when Harry had told him he wasn't interested in dating anyone, Justin had been heartbroken for weeks. Harry had lost count of how many love notes and poems he’d received before Justin finally got over him and moved on. A repeat of that disaster really wasn’t necessary.
Suddenly a hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder and shook him. He jerked, startled, for he hadn't even heard any footsteps.
“Harry, wake up.” It was Hermione.
Harry groaned.
“Honestly, Harry, you should have known better than to pass out in the common room. How does your neck feel?”
Sometimes Hermione reminded him too much of Molly. She’d make a fine wife for Ron, Harry thought as he opened his good eye again; the lids of the other were still glued together by a crusty discharge.
“About as good as my head,” he grumbled.
“Here, drink this.” Hermione shoved something cool and smooth into his hand.
Harry accepted the bottle and sat up with slow, careful movements. Meanwhile, Hermione picked up the bottle of Firewhisky and checked the level of remaining amber liquid. Appearing satisfied that he hadn’t drunk any more after she and Ron had left, Hermione set the bottle back down on the table and took a seat beside Harry on the sofa.
Harry uncorked the bottle and drank the light blue potion. It tasted of aniseed and left his tongue feeling numb, but the nausea and the throbbing in his head stopped almost as soon as he finished swallowing.
“Better?” Hermione asked.
“Much.”
As they sat in silence, waiting for Ron to meet them, Harry surreptitiously sniffed his shirt again. Its fragrance stirred fuzzy memories of a hard body against his own, of someone's warm breath on his face.
"Hermione--was anyone else here, besides me, when you left?"
"No one but Draco,” she said. “Why?"
Harry's stomach flipped, but he kept his face expressionless and shrugged. "Just wondering."
"You're lucky it was only Draco. Do you remember that Justin incident?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow and grinned. The frivolous tone in which she said that first part stung a little. Harry didn't think there was anything only about Draco, who was all he could think about these days.
"How could I forget?"
They heard Ron’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Ron appeared, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Let's go'n'eat," he said. “I’m hungry.”
Harry and Hermione rose to join him, and together they headed down to the Great Hall.
*****
Draco had been watching Potter throughout breakfast, searching for hints as to whether or not he had any memory of the previous night’s activities. So far, the signs indicated it was more than likely that Potter did remember; he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from drifting over to the Slytherin table.
The first time Draco had caught Potter staring, the other boy had turned away and rubbed the back of his neck. The second time, he had dropped his gaze to his plate and stabbed at his bacon in an unsurpassed display of torpor. The third time, Granger had saved the day when she nudged Potter’s arm and pointed at the ceiling. Potter had appeared thankful for her oblivious intervention, and he feigned a keen interest in the unusual cloud formation she had pointed out. Or that’s what Draco assumed, anyway. For all he knew, Potter was an avid cloud-watcher.
“The Golden Boy looks a bit flushed,” Blaise said, nodding towards the trio. “What do you reckon Weasley’s up to with his hand under the table?”
Draco hadn’t noticed it before—he made it a point not to look at Weasley unless it was unavoidable—but Weasley’s right hand was indeed out of sight, and he was sitting close enough to Potter that he might as well have been squeezing Potter’s thigh or doing something even more unspeakable.
Draco gritted his teeth.
Blaise sniggered and sipped his pumpkin juice.
*****
The day dragged on and on. Draco had written to his parents, polished his broom, wanked in the Quidditch shed, flown around the grounds for a good hour and a half, wanked in the shower, eaten dinner, flipped through some books and magazines, and wanked again in bed. He’d even found time in between to admonish the elves for their infrequent and insufficient polishing of his shoes—they used magic, for Salazar’s sake!
Yet it was only eight o’clock. That left Draco way too much time to fantasise about his session on the sofa with Potter. If he wanked any more, his cock would be raw.
He wasn’t in the mood for Daphne and Pansy’s matchmaking schemes or Blaise’s infuriating arrogance, but he did realise that sitting alone in the dormitory with thoughts of Potter was not the best way to ensure that his cock remained in his trousers for the rest of the night. Besides, he’d come to appreciate Blaise’s bartending skills, and if he joined the others in the common room, he would stand a good chance of being served some sort of fancy new drink.
Draco yawned and stretched his arms over his head, then reached for his discarded jumper at the end of the bed. He took a glance in the mirror to confirm that his hair was slicked back and tidy. Once he was satisfied that his appearance was impeccable, he sprayed on some cologne—in case Potter was around—and headed downstairs.
When he entered the common room, his heart sank a little: Potter wasn’t there. Blaise was present, however, along with Pansy and Daphne. The two girls beamed at him. Oh, joy.
“Hi, Draco,” Daphne said in her high-pitched voice.
“Evening, Daphne.” Draco turned to Blaise, who was returning from the secret drinks cabinet they had charmed to turn into a bookcase if a professor ever came into a room. Though they were of age, eighth-years weren’t allowed to drink at Hogwarts.
“Glad you decided to join us,” said Blaise. He was holding a blue-violet drink.
“What’s that?” Draco asked, taking the glass out of Blaise’s hand
Blaise sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Cupid’s Dart.”
“It looks girly.”
“How’s it girly? It’s blue.”
“It’s not blue, it’s—“ Draco looked into the glass and wrinkled his nose. “Periwinkle.”
Blaise shrugged. “No one’s forcing it on you.”
Draco swirled the drink around a few times before taking a tentative sniff. He had expected a fruity aroma, but the scent he inhaled was mostly herbal, if a little sweet.
“Just try it, Draco,” said Pansy. “It tastes good.”
Draco turned to her, meaning to ask where hers was, but then he spotted the two glasses on the coffee table. All that was left in them was a layer of melting ice. He brought the drink to his lips and took a sip. Daphne giggled, and he shot her a glare over the rim of the glass.
The taste was odd, but not unpleasant. A little flowery, maybe, but mostly herbal. It left a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
Draco took another sip and licked his lips. “It’s decent. I’ll just keep this, then. You can make yourself another one.”
“No, I think I can do without.” Blaise leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him, looking smug. “How are you feeling?”
Draco’s mouth went dry. He held Blaise’s amused gaze for a moment, then looked suspiciously at his drink. He was about to say he felt just fine, when suddenly he felt a stirring in his groin. His pants were getting tight.
Daphne giggled again, louder this time, and Pansy joined in.
“What is this?” Draco demanded through clenched teeth. He slammed the glass down on the table beside Blaise.
“I told you what it’s called,” Blaise said. “I think Daphne here would enjoy explaining what it does, wouldn’t you, Daphne?”
Daphne nodded, her loose blonde curls bouncing.
“It’s clear what it does,” Draco said, but then he froze. “Or is there more?”
“Oh, there’s more.” Blaise indicated to Daphne that she had the floor.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to take care of that yourself, Draco.” Daphne jerked her head at his crotch, then leaned over and giggled into Pansy’s shoulder. “Your, little--or should I say moderately-sized--problem is one that can only be relieved by the person you most desire.”
Both girls erupted in a fit of laughter.
Blaise smiled at Draco as if he’d done him a favour. “Best get started looking for the object of your affections. They say that an erection lasting more than a few hours can be dangerous.”
Draco flicked two fingers at Blaise, and then he abandoned the common room as fast as he could without looking ridiculous.
“She’s probably out in the courtyard!” Daphne called after him.
Draco rushed to the toilet, where he hid in a cubicle and hastily unzipped his trousers. He hoped they’d been trying to deceive him, that the drink had been nothing more than an aphrodisiac, and that he’d find relief as soon as he slipped his hand into his pants and wrapped his fingers around his cock.
He did just that, but to his distress, he didn’t feel a thing. It was as if his hand wasn’t there. He squeezed tighter, and still he felt nothing.
“Fuck,” said Draco. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He tucked himself back inside his pants, zipped up his trousers, and pressed his crotch up against the door. No matter how hard he rubbed himself against the wood, though, he felt no friction whatsoever.
Draco stepped away from the cubicle door and took a few deep breaths. Okay, stay calm, he thought. I just need to find Potter and get him drunk enough that he’ll touch me. I can Accio my robes so everyone doesn’t see my erection while I’m looking for him. But what if he doesn’t want to drink at all? I could just tell him the truth—maybe then he’d take pity on me. Salazar, it was hard to think with his cock throbbing like it was.
The door to the toilet creaked, and someone stepped inside. Draco stiffened. He waited quietly while the other boy went about his business. There was the sound of a fly going down, followed by the tinkle of piss going into the urinal. Then the zipper went back up, and the boy walked over to the sink and turned on the water. He coughed.
That voice sounded familiar. Draco’s cock twitched at the sound of it.
“Potter?”
"Malfoy?"
Draco unlatched the cubicle door and burst out.
“I need your help,” he said, and he grabbed Potter’s hand and pulled it towards his cock.
“Malfoy, what’re you—?” Potter caught sight of the bulge in Draco’s trousers, and his jaw dropped. He pulled his hand away. “You’re hard!”
“Yes, I know. And I can’t take care of it myself, so if you’d please just offer me a little help—“
The part of Draco’s mind that remained sober despite his arousal—the part not controlling his actions—told him he was acting like a lunatic and that Potter would have to be insane not to hex him and leave.
But apparently Potter was insane, because he had yet to reach for his wand. Instead, he stood motionless, brow furrowed. He spoke slowly. “Why can’t you take care of it yourself? And why me?”
“Blaise and the girls gave me some sort of drink. It makes me unable to feel my own hand, or anything else that touches my dick. It has to be another person.” Potter didn’t need to know that it needed to be a particular person. Draco felt his cheeks flush. “And, well—you’re right here.”
Potter looked at him. The intensity of those emerald eyes sent a surge of heat through Draco’s body.
“Do you want me to go and find Astoria, or whatever Daphne’s sister is called?” Potter asked.
“No!” said Draco. “She’s the reason they gave me the potion. They wanted me to go to her.”
That was true about Pansy and Daphne, he was sure. Blaise was another story. He knew who Draco desired the most, even if Draco had never admitted it. The bastard was probably having the laugh of his life as they spoke.
“Please.” Draco pressed Potter’s palm to his crotch. His cock exploded with sensation at the touch; it was so overwhelming he thought his legs would give out under him. He grabbed hold of Potter’s arm with his free hand for support.
“You want me to toss you off?” Potter asked. His eyes were wide and disbelieving.
Draco swallowed, and nodded.
“Okay…”
Potter locked the door with a wave of his wand, then turned around and pushed Draco back into the sink. He took a deep breath and, lower lip crushed between his teeth, pulled down Draco’s zipper.
The silence that followed was broken only by Draco’s ragged breathing when Potter slipped a hand inside Draco’s pants and there was no longer any barrier between fingers and cock. Draco’s heart was hammering in his chest; he was too embarrassed to look at Potter, so he watched the other boy’s hand as it started to stroke his shaft. Potter was wearing a snake ring on his thumb, and although Draco thought snake jewellery was an odd thing for him to wear, the sight of the silver serpent coiled around Potter’s thumb spiked his arousal even further.
“Malfoy?”
“Hmm?” Draco kept his eyes on the hand stroking his cock.
“Were you in the common room with me last night, after everyone else left?”
“Yeah, I left after you fell asleep.” Draco decided it was best to leave out what had happened in between.
“Oh.” Potter’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Draco thought he detected a hint of disappointment in his tone.
He glanced up at Potter’s face. “Disappointed?”
“Not quite.”
Potter slid his thumb over the tip of Draco’s cock, smearing precome over the glans. The slippery feeling caused Draco to quiver, and he tightened his hold on the sink behind him while letting his head fall back. Only Potter could make him feel this good while stabbing a knife into his gut.
Draco gave a whimper of disappointment when Potter’s hand left his cock. He opened his eyes to see Potter spitting into his palm. “Oh, fuck.”
Potter smirked as he coated Draco’s cock with his saliva. “This ought to speed things up.”
The lubrication felt great, but it was the rhythmic squelching noise that drove Draco crazy. He wanted to pull Potter close and kiss him, to hold onto Potter’s shoulders as the pleasure built. But he couldn’t, because the feeling obviously wasn’t reciprocated; Potter was doing everthing he could to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Draco looked down at Potter’s hand, at his ring, which would soon be covered with spunk. His balls tightened. He was so, so close and completely unprepared for the series of sibilant sounds that left Potter’s lips. He looked up at Potter’s face again, and watched how the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his teeth as he spoke Parseltongue.
Breathing ceased to be an automatic function as his climax began. All that existed was Potter’s incessant stroking and hissing. Draco tore his gaze away from the other boy’s mouth to stare at his own cock as it spurted come in thick strands. Most of it landed on the top of Potter’s hand and slid down his knuckles and the backs of his fingers. It covered the ring and oozed underneath it.
Draco gasped for air as he came down from his high. Potter slowly stopped moving his hand. It was perfect, like floating down from the clouds… until the doorknob rattled.
Both boys started at the sound.
“Draco, are you in there?” It was Daphne.
Draco cursed under his breath, and Potter laughed in a half-amused, half self-conscious way. A shy smile lingered on his face for a moment, but vanished at the shouted “Alohamora!” that came from behind the door.
Draco straightened up and tucked himself back into his pants. Meanwhile, Potter grabbed a towel and began wiping his hand, his back turned towards the door.
Pansy strode inside, followed closely by Daphne.
“What were you doing?” Pansy asked, looking suspiciously from Draco to Potter.
Daphne’s mouth hung open.
“What does it look like we were doing?” Draco snapped.
Potter’s eyes grew wide. Draco’s reaction clearly wasn’t one he had expected. It came as a shock to Draco as well, but he was sick of those girls and their giggling and ill-conceived plans for getting him to finally make a move on Astoria.
“You’re gay?” Daphne and Pansy asked in unison.
“I am,” Draco said. On the spur of the moment, he grabbed Potter by the arm and pulled him close. “And Potter here is my boyfriend. It’s him I’ll be going to Hogsmeade with next weekend.”
Draco had no idea what he was doing; it was insane. But prospect of finally having those girls off his back had suddenly seemed so appealing, he hadn’t been able resist the opportunity to present Potter as his boyfriend.
Potter’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, just like Pansy and Daphne’s did, but thankfully he didn’t deny the claim. Daphne made a disgusted face and left. Pansy watched her go, then turned to look at the boys.
“Nice one,” she said, jerking her head in Harry’s direction. Then she winked at them and followed Daphne out of the toilets.
When the door closed behind her, Potter turned to Draco. His jaw was jutting forward. “What was that about?” he asked.
Draco cleared his throat. It had been a long time since he’d heard Potter sound so angry. “I want them to leave me alone once and for all.”
“Oh, well that explains everything, doesn’t it?” Potter flung his towel into the basket. “What if I don’t want to be your pretend boyfriend?”
It had been a thoughtless act, Draco had to admit, but he hadn’t exactly had the time to consult Potter about his decision. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But thank you for playing along. I would have been mortified if you hadn’t.”
He watched as the other boy turned on the water to wash his hands properly. When Potter remained silent after drying his hands again, Draco added, “It would only be for a week, though. We could go to Hogsmeade together, then break up the next day.”
Potter turned to glare at him. “I have a better idea. How about we break up now?”
And, with a shake of his head and a huff, Potter left. The door shut behind him, and silence rang in Draco’s ears.
He sighed. “That went well.”
3. Butterbeer
Author:
drippingcherryPairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~3,400 this chapter
Beta/britpick:
groolover and nursedarry. Thank for all your help!Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: This is the story of how Harry and Draco fell in love—in nine drinks.
A/N: Written for my
schmoop_bingo card.Harry woke up with a pounding headache and a kink in his neck. When at last he felt up to opening a single eye, he knew by the familiar tapestries decorating the walls that he was in the eighth-year common room. He had fallen sleep on the sofa, and now his neck and shoulder muscles were kicking his arse for it. Exactly why he had stayed behind after everyone else had gone off to bed, he couldn't remember. He shut his eye again and held his aching, spinning head in his hands. If he moved even the tiniest bit, he would vomit all over the rug.
The sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt fell toward his face as he pressed the heels of his hands into his temples, and he noticed that he smelled strange. Not bad—just different. It was a foreign scent, as if he had borrowed someone else's clothes or had prolonged body contact with another boy. A glance down at his Falmouth Falcons hoodie confirmed that it wasn't the former. He groaned, worried that he'd done something he would regret.
Last time he'd got this pissed, at the celebration that followed the rebuilding of Hogwarts, he'd led Justin Finch-Fletchley to a dark, empty classroom and snogged him for an hour. Afterwards Justin had somehow got it in his head that they were a couple, and when Harry had told him he wasn't interested in dating anyone, Justin had been heartbroken for weeks. Harry had lost count of how many love notes and poems he’d received before Justin finally got over him and moved on. A repeat of that disaster really wasn’t necessary.
Suddenly a hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder and shook him. He jerked, startled, for he hadn't even heard any footsteps.
“Harry, wake up.” It was Hermione.
Harry groaned.
“Honestly, Harry, you should have known better than to pass out in the common room. How does your neck feel?”
Sometimes Hermione reminded him too much of Molly. She’d make a fine wife for Ron, Harry thought as he opened his good eye again; the lids of the other were still glued together by a crusty discharge.
“About as good as my head,” he grumbled.
“Here, drink this.” Hermione shoved something cool and smooth into his hand.
Harry accepted the bottle and sat up with slow, careful movements. Meanwhile, Hermione picked up the bottle of Firewhisky and checked the level of remaining amber liquid. Appearing satisfied that he hadn’t drunk any more after she and Ron had left, Hermione set the bottle back down on the table and took a seat beside Harry on the sofa.
Harry uncorked the bottle and drank the light blue potion. It tasted of aniseed and left his tongue feeling numb, but the nausea and the throbbing in his head stopped almost as soon as he finished swallowing.
“Better?” Hermione asked.
“Much.”
As they sat in silence, waiting for Ron to meet them, Harry surreptitiously sniffed his shirt again. Its fragrance stirred fuzzy memories of a hard body against his own, of someone's warm breath on his face.
"Hermione--was anyone else here, besides me, when you left?"
"No one but Draco,” she said. “Why?"
Harry's stomach flipped, but he kept his face expressionless and shrugged. "Just wondering."
"You're lucky it was only Draco. Do you remember that Justin incident?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow and grinned. The frivolous tone in which she said that first part stung a little. Harry didn't think there was anything only about Draco, who was all he could think about these days.
"How could I forget?"
They heard Ron’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Ron appeared, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Let's go'n'eat," he said. “I’m hungry.”
Harry and Hermione rose to join him, and together they headed down to the Great Hall.
*****
Draco had been watching Potter throughout breakfast, searching for hints as to whether or not he had any memory of the previous night’s activities. So far, the signs indicated it was more than likely that Potter did remember; he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from drifting over to the Slytherin table.
The first time Draco had caught Potter staring, the other boy had turned away and rubbed the back of his neck. The second time, he had dropped his gaze to his plate and stabbed at his bacon in an unsurpassed display of torpor. The third time, Granger had saved the day when she nudged Potter’s arm and pointed at the ceiling. Potter had appeared thankful for her oblivious intervention, and he feigned a keen interest in the unusual cloud formation she had pointed out. Or that’s what Draco assumed, anyway. For all he knew, Potter was an avid cloud-watcher.
“The Golden Boy looks a bit flushed,” Blaise said, nodding towards the trio. “What do you reckon Weasley’s up to with his hand under the table?”
Draco hadn’t noticed it before—he made it a point not to look at Weasley unless it was unavoidable—but Weasley’s right hand was indeed out of sight, and he was sitting close enough to Potter that he might as well have been squeezing Potter’s thigh or doing something even more unspeakable.
Draco gritted his teeth.
Blaise sniggered and sipped his pumpkin juice.
*****
The day dragged on and on. Draco had written to his parents, polished his broom, wanked in the Quidditch shed, flown around the grounds for a good hour and a half, wanked in the shower, eaten dinner, flipped through some books and magazines, and wanked again in bed. He’d even found time in between to admonish the elves for their infrequent and insufficient polishing of his shoes—they used magic, for Salazar’s sake!
Yet it was only eight o’clock. That left Draco way too much time to fantasise about his session on the sofa with Potter. If he wanked any more, his cock would be raw.
He wasn’t in the mood for Daphne and Pansy’s matchmaking schemes or Blaise’s infuriating arrogance, but he did realise that sitting alone in the dormitory with thoughts of Potter was not the best way to ensure that his cock remained in his trousers for the rest of the night. Besides, he’d come to appreciate Blaise’s bartending skills, and if he joined the others in the common room, he would stand a good chance of being served some sort of fancy new drink.
Draco yawned and stretched his arms over his head, then reached for his discarded jumper at the end of the bed. He took a glance in the mirror to confirm that his hair was slicked back and tidy. Once he was satisfied that his appearance was impeccable, he sprayed on some cologne—in case Potter was around—and headed downstairs.
When he entered the common room, his heart sank a little: Potter wasn’t there. Blaise was present, however, along with Pansy and Daphne. The two girls beamed at him. Oh, joy.
“Hi, Draco,” Daphne said in her high-pitched voice.
“Evening, Daphne.” Draco turned to Blaise, who was returning from the secret drinks cabinet they had charmed to turn into a bookcase if a professor ever came into a room. Though they were of age, eighth-years weren’t allowed to drink at Hogwarts.
“Glad you decided to join us,” said Blaise. He was holding a blue-violet drink.
“What’s that?” Draco asked, taking the glass out of Blaise’s hand
Blaise sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Cupid’s Dart.”
“It looks girly.”
“How’s it girly? It’s blue.”
“It’s not blue, it’s—“ Draco looked into the glass and wrinkled his nose. “Periwinkle.”
Blaise shrugged. “No one’s forcing it on you.”
Draco swirled the drink around a few times before taking a tentative sniff. He had expected a fruity aroma, but the scent he inhaled was mostly herbal, if a little sweet.
“Just try it, Draco,” said Pansy. “It tastes good.”
Draco turned to her, meaning to ask where hers was, but then he spotted the two glasses on the coffee table. All that was left in them was a layer of melting ice. He brought the drink to his lips and took a sip. Daphne giggled, and he shot her a glare over the rim of the glass.
The taste was odd, but not unpleasant. A little flowery, maybe, but mostly herbal. It left a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
Draco took another sip and licked his lips. “It’s decent. I’ll just keep this, then. You can make yourself another one.”
“No, I think I can do without.” Blaise leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him, looking smug. “How are you feeling?”
Draco’s mouth went dry. He held Blaise’s amused gaze for a moment, then looked suspiciously at his drink. He was about to say he felt just fine, when suddenly he felt a stirring in his groin. His pants were getting tight.
Daphne giggled again, louder this time, and Pansy joined in.
“What is this?” Draco demanded through clenched teeth. He slammed the glass down on the table beside Blaise.
“I told you what it’s called,” Blaise said. “I think Daphne here would enjoy explaining what it does, wouldn’t you, Daphne?”
Daphne nodded, her loose blonde curls bouncing.
“It’s clear what it does,” Draco said, but then he froze. “Or is there more?”
“Oh, there’s more.” Blaise indicated to Daphne that she had the floor.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to take care of that yourself, Draco.” Daphne jerked her head at his crotch, then leaned over and giggled into Pansy’s shoulder. “Your, little--or should I say moderately-sized--problem is one that can only be relieved by the person you most desire.”
Both girls erupted in a fit of laughter.
Blaise smiled at Draco as if he’d done him a favour. “Best get started looking for the object of your affections. They say that an erection lasting more than a few hours can be dangerous.”
Draco flicked two fingers at Blaise, and then he abandoned the common room as fast as he could without looking ridiculous.
“She’s probably out in the courtyard!” Daphne called after him.
Draco rushed to the toilet, where he hid in a cubicle and hastily unzipped his trousers. He hoped they’d been trying to deceive him, that the drink had been nothing more than an aphrodisiac, and that he’d find relief as soon as he slipped his hand into his pants and wrapped his fingers around his cock.
He did just that, but to his distress, he didn’t feel a thing. It was as if his hand wasn’t there. He squeezed tighter, and still he felt nothing.
“Fuck,” said Draco. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He tucked himself back inside his pants, zipped up his trousers, and pressed his crotch up against the door. No matter how hard he rubbed himself against the wood, though, he felt no friction whatsoever.
Draco stepped away from the cubicle door and took a few deep breaths. Okay, stay calm, he thought. I just need to find Potter and get him drunk enough that he’ll touch me. I can Accio my robes so everyone doesn’t see my erection while I’m looking for him. But what if he doesn’t want to drink at all? I could just tell him the truth—maybe then he’d take pity on me. Salazar, it was hard to think with his cock throbbing like it was.
The door to the toilet creaked, and someone stepped inside. Draco stiffened. He waited quietly while the other boy went about his business. There was the sound of a fly going down, followed by the tinkle of piss going into the urinal. Then the zipper went back up, and the boy walked over to the sink and turned on the water. He coughed.
That voice sounded familiar. Draco’s cock twitched at the sound of it.
“Potter?”
"Malfoy?"
Draco unlatched the cubicle door and burst out.
“I need your help,” he said, and he grabbed Potter’s hand and pulled it towards his cock.
“Malfoy, what’re you—?” Potter caught sight of the bulge in Draco’s trousers, and his jaw dropped. He pulled his hand away. “You’re hard!”
“Yes, I know. And I can’t take care of it myself, so if you’d please just offer me a little help—“
The part of Draco’s mind that remained sober despite his arousal—the part not controlling his actions—told him he was acting like a lunatic and that Potter would have to be insane not to hex him and leave.
But apparently Potter was insane, because he had yet to reach for his wand. Instead, he stood motionless, brow furrowed. He spoke slowly. “Why can’t you take care of it yourself? And why me?”
“Blaise and the girls gave me some sort of drink. It makes me unable to feel my own hand, or anything else that touches my dick. It has to be another person.” Potter didn’t need to know that it needed to be a particular person. Draco felt his cheeks flush. “And, well—you’re right here.”
Potter looked at him. The intensity of those emerald eyes sent a surge of heat through Draco’s body.
“Do you want me to go and find Astoria, or whatever Daphne’s sister is called?” Potter asked.
“No!” said Draco. “She’s the reason they gave me the potion. They wanted me to go to her.”
That was true about Pansy and Daphne, he was sure. Blaise was another story. He knew who Draco desired the most, even if Draco had never admitted it. The bastard was probably having the laugh of his life as they spoke.
“Please.” Draco pressed Potter’s palm to his crotch. His cock exploded with sensation at the touch; it was so overwhelming he thought his legs would give out under him. He grabbed hold of Potter’s arm with his free hand for support.
“You want me to toss you off?” Potter asked. His eyes were wide and disbelieving.
Draco swallowed, and nodded.
“Okay…”
Potter locked the door with a wave of his wand, then turned around and pushed Draco back into the sink. He took a deep breath and, lower lip crushed between his teeth, pulled down Draco’s zipper.
The silence that followed was broken only by Draco’s ragged breathing when Potter slipped a hand inside Draco’s pants and there was no longer any barrier between fingers and cock. Draco’s heart was hammering in his chest; he was too embarrassed to look at Potter, so he watched the other boy’s hand as it started to stroke his shaft. Potter was wearing a snake ring on his thumb, and although Draco thought snake jewellery was an odd thing for him to wear, the sight of the silver serpent coiled around Potter’s thumb spiked his arousal even further.
“Malfoy?”
“Hmm?” Draco kept his eyes on the hand stroking his cock.
“Were you in the common room with me last night, after everyone else left?”
“Yeah, I left after you fell asleep.” Draco decided it was best to leave out what had happened in between.
“Oh.” Potter’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Draco thought he detected a hint of disappointment in his tone.
He glanced up at Potter’s face. “Disappointed?”
“Not quite.”
Potter slid his thumb over the tip of Draco’s cock, smearing precome over the glans. The slippery feeling caused Draco to quiver, and he tightened his hold on the sink behind him while letting his head fall back. Only Potter could make him feel this good while stabbing a knife into his gut.
Draco gave a whimper of disappointment when Potter’s hand left his cock. He opened his eyes to see Potter spitting into his palm. “Oh, fuck.”
Potter smirked as he coated Draco’s cock with his saliva. “This ought to speed things up.”
The lubrication felt great, but it was the rhythmic squelching noise that drove Draco crazy. He wanted to pull Potter close and kiss him, to hold onto Potter’s shoulders as the pleasure built. But he couldn’t, because the feeling obviously wasn’t reciprocated; Potter was doing everthing he could to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Draco looked down at Potter’s hand, at his ring, which would soon be covered with spunk. His balls tightened. He was so, so close and completely unprepared for the series of sibilant sounds that left Potter’s lips. He looked up at Potter’s face again, and watched how the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his teeth as he spoke Parseltongue.
Breathing ceased to be an automatic function as his climax began. All that existed was Potter’s incessant stroking and hissing. Draco tore his gaze away from the other boy’s mouth to stare at his own cock as it spurted come in thick strands. Most of it landed on the top of Potter’s hand and slid down his knuckles and the backs of his fingers. It covered the ring and oozed underneath it.
Draco gasped for air as he came down from his high. Potter slowly stopped moving his hand. It was perfect, like floating down from the clouds… until the doorknob rattled.
Both boys started at the sound.
“Draco, are you in there?” It was Daphne.
Draco cursed under his breath, and Potter laughed in a half-amused, half self-conscious way. A shy smile lingered on his face for a moment, but vanished at the shouted “Alohamora!” that came from behind the door.
Draco straightened up and tucked himself back into his pants. Meanwhile, Potter grabbed a towel and began wiping his hand, his back turned towards the door.
Pansy strode inside, followed closely by Daphne.
“What were you doing?” Pansy asked, looking suspiciously from Draco to Potter.
Daphne’s mouth hung open.
“What does it look like we were doing?” Draco snapped.
Potter’s eyes grew wide. Draco’s reaction clearly wasn’t one he had expected. It came as a shock to Draco as well, but he was sick of those girls and their giggling and ill-conceived plans for getting him to finally make a move on Astoria.
“You’re gay?” Daphne and Pansy asked in unison.
“I am,” Draco said. On the spur of the moment, he grabbed Potter by the arm and pulled him close. “And Potter here is my boyfriend. It’s him I’ll be going to Hogsmeade with next weekend.”
Draco had no idea what he was doing; it was insane. But prospect of finally having those girls off his back had suddenly seemed so appealing, he hadn’t been able resist the opportunity to present Potter as his boyfriend.
Potter’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, just like Pansy and Daphne’s did, but thankfully he didn’t deny the claim. Daphne made a disgusted face and left. Pansy watched her go, then turned to look at the boys.
“Nice one,” she said, jerking her head in Harry’s direction. Then she winked at them and followed Daphne out of the toilets.
When the door closed behind her, Potter turned to Draco. His jaw was jutting forward. “What was that about?” he asked.
Draco cleared his throat. It had been a long time since he’d heard Potter sound so angry. “I want them to leave me alone once and for all.”
“Oh, well that explains everything, doesn’t it?” Potter flung his towel into the basket. “What if I don’t want to be your pretend boyfriend?”
It had been a thoughtless act, Draco had to admit, but he hadn’t exactly had the time to consult Potter about his decision. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But thank you for playing along. I would have been mortified if you hadn’t.”
He watched as the other boy turned on the water to wash his hands properly. When Potter remained silent after drying his hands again, Draco added, “It would only be for a week, though. We could go to Hogsmeade together, then break up the next day.”
Potter turned to glare at him. “I have a better idea. How about we break up now?”
And, with a shake of his head and a huff, Potter left. The door shut behind him, and silence rang in Draco’s ears.
He sighed. “That went well.”
3. Butterbeer
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-18 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 12:13 am (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting!
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Date: 2010-07-18 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-18 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 01:43 am (UTC)Draco's bit in the bathroom was hot! He was humping the wall followed by asking Harry to jerk him off. Just asked! This Draco is very straight forward with what he wants. *nod* Thank goodness we're not running around in circles.
Thanks for sharing!
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Date: 2010-07-19 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 09:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 05:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 06:09 am (UTC)I loved this chapter
no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 06:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 08:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 12:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 10:11 pm (UTC)It's been a while since I compulsively refreshed my flist several times a day waiting for a particular fic update. It feels great to have to do that again =)
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Date: 2010-07-20 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 03:32 am (UTC)Also, the ring and the Parseltongue? *drools a little*
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Date: 2010-07-20 04:37 am (UTC)*drools with you*
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 12:21 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2010-07-20 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 05:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 05:52 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it. Thank you!