
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7268062.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Lucius_Malfoy, Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, Severus_Snape, Ron_Weasley,
      Original_Male_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Hogwarts_Fifth_Year, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Bottom_Draco,
      Top_Harry, Corporal_Punishment, Death_Eaters, Caning, Alternate_Universe
      -_Student/Teacher, Anal_Sex, Bottom_Harry, Spanking, Order_of_the_Phoenix
      AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-21 Completed: 2016-12-28 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 21711
****** A New Order ******
by marysiak
Summary
     Diverges from canon after book 4. During the summer the Death Eaters
     depose Dumbledore from Hogwarts and replace him with a new headmaster
     - Lucius Malfoy. Despite this Harry is determined to finish his
     education. In an all new regime corporal punishment is rife and the
     boys and girls are separated from each other. But when Harry bumps
     into Draco Malfoy one night on the Astronomy Tower things change even
     more. Based on old fashioned British boarding schools of the 1950s
     and earlier. Although this was sort of written to be longer I don't
     think I ever actually had a plot in mind so it will have to stand
     alone. I think it works as is. It's just some kinky porn with a
     fairly detailed AU background.
***** The Astronomy Tower *****
Harry Potter and The New Order
by Marysia (October 2002)
Harry was feeling very cut off and a little frightened. He tried not to be but
he was deathly afraid that the one good thing in his life was falling apart.
That the only home he had ever known might be lost to him. Hogwarts. The world
of wizards and magic and people he cared about and that cared about him.
It had been two months since the death of Cedric Diggory. Two months since his
childhood had officially ended. In the time since he had returned to Privet
Drive from school he had heard very little from the wizarding world but what he
had heard worried him... and now this. His letter as regards the start of the
new school year had arrived. It was at this moment sitting on his bed across
the room from where he sat on the floor against the wall looking at it.
The letter read...
'HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Lucius Malfoy
(Order of Merlin, Grand Sorc., International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
Please be informed that term starts on the 1st of September.
We enclose a list of all necessary new books and equipment.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress'
Harry couldn't quite take it in, he'd thought maybe it was a joke... or just a
mistake. You couldn't just become headmaster without being a teacher first...
could you? But Lucius Malfoy had been on the school's board of governors before
the events during 2nd year had lost him his position and Harry had known from
reading between the lines of the few letters he'd had from Ron and Sirius and
the occasional suspicious Muggle headline that things weren't right. Not least
the fact that he hadn't heard from Hermione at all. He could tell there were
things Ron and Sirius weren't telling him.
This wasn't happening. It wasn't possible that a Death Eater had taken
Dumbledore's place at Hogwarts. And where was Dumbledore?
He looked numbly over his equipment list...
'For your fifth year you will be required to have...
Clothes:
1 plain pointed hat (black)
3 sets of plain work robes (black)
1 pair of sensible shoes (black, brown or navy)
1 pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
1 winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)
2 sets of gym robes (red)
1 pair of running sandals
3 jock straps (white or black)
1 set of dress robes
Please note all items of clothing must carry a name tag and should be correctly
fitted and in good condition.
Set Books:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk
A Study of Advanced Dark Arts by Darius Malfoy
Potions You Wish You Didn't Need by Suspectus Mannir
Unusual and Dangerous Magical Creatures by Unus Limm
Unfoiling Curses (5th ed) by Dirk Knight
The Modern British Wizard by Arian Schimmel
Other Equipment:
1 fully functional wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring ONE animal from the following; owl, cat, toad, snake,
rat, spider.
--------------------
It had been weeks since he had written Ron but it was only six days before he
was due to go back to school that he got a reply.
'Dear Harry,
I'm sorry Ron has not written back to you, I'm afraid we
simply weren't sure what to say until now and we did not
want to alarm you in case you tried to leave your aunt and
uncle's house where you are safe. My wife did not want our
children or you to return to Hogwarts but I will not let what
is happening stop you from getting an education. Professor
McGonagall is still deputy headmistress and I and Professor
Dumbledore trust her to keep the school going despite the
best efforts of Lucius Malfoy. You will simply have to endure
this as we have had to. Do not worry about Dumbledore, he is
in good health though understandably upset by current events.
Please meet us at the Leaky Cauldron at midday on the 31st
of August, let us know if you can't make it. We will be spending
the night there before taking the children to Platform 9 3/4.
Sincerely,
Arthur Weasley'
----------------------
Harry decided to catch the Night Bus. He was in no mood to pester his aunt and
uncle for a lift to London and he couldn't get all his belongings onto public
transport without help. So he set off on the evening of the 30th wondering if
there was a Day Bus that he could have caught instead, sometimes it was really
annoying not knowing all this stuff. They really ought to have a handbook or
something, A Muggles Guide to the Wizarding World, or, So You're Really A
Wizard: 100 Useful Things To Know. Maybe he'd write one someday.
He arrived at The Leaky Cauldron a little after midnight and arranged for a
room for two nights. It was terribly tempting to ask about Hogwarts, to ask for
news, but something about the look on Tom's face stopped him. He looked too
happy to see Harry, as if he thought Harry could solve all his problems.
"Going back to Hogwarts?" he wheezed. "That's good news, knew you would. Harry
Potter after all, eh? Not afraid of anything."
Harry smiled weakly and nodded.
"Get things sorted out in no time I'm sure, eh?"
Harry smiled again, feeling hollow, and closed his door. He hoped the Weasley's
were on time, he had to find out what was going on.
--------------------
Unable to wait any longer for the Weasley's, Harry bought a copy of The Daily
Prophet after he had finished his breakfast. The front page story was about
some scandal in the Ministry of Magic, it didn't mean much to Harry as it
didn't seem to involve anyone he knew. Further into the paper was a story about
rumoured changes at Hogwarts but there was no real information. Just
speculation on new teachers and classes.
----------------
The moment it really hit Harry was when he disembarked from the Hogwarts
Express and heard not Hagrid's voice calling for the first years, but Filch's.
The caretakers cracked voice sent a shiver of unpleasant anticipation through
him.
The hollow feeling in his stomach only increased when he saw the number of new
faces at the teachers table, crowned by the icy satisfaction on the face of
their new headmaster, Lucius Malfoy.
"I have several notices to give before we eat," Lucius Malfoy announced.
"First, there will be a slight rearrangement of the dormitories. In order to
facilitate learning we have decided to separate the girls and boys, as was done
in the past. All Gryffindor girls have been moved to the Hufflepuff
dormitories, Hufflepuff boys will take the spare rooms in the Gryffindor
dormitories. Slytherin girls will go to the Ravenclaw dormitories and Ravenclaw
boys to Slytherin. This will not affect the house you belong to, simply the
location you sleep in. Classes will also be taken separately as listed in your
new timetables. Professor McGonagall, although still deputy headmistress for
the entire school, will have full control over the girls while I shall be in
charge of the boys. As Professor Flitwick has left the school the new Head of
House for Ravenclaw will be Professor Sinistra. I will now introduce your new
teachers..."
---------------
It's funny how different the world is at night when you're sleepy, especially
when you've only just woken up. For Harry it wasn't quite like it is for most
people, he was used to waking alone and having no one to turn to. No parents
bed to run to and hide in from the nightmares. No voices to soothe and sing him
to sleep and make the shadows stay away. He'd always had to fight the dark
alone and there had always been a lot to fight. He had been prone to nightmares
as long as he could remember and with good reason.
These days when he woke in the night, breathless with fear, he often forgot
that he wasn't alone unless the snore of one of his room-mates broke the still
room and even then, for a moment, the noise would only panic him further before
he remembered what it was.
He usually remembered his nightmares and the strange thing was that, unless
they were something that was actually happening as they occasionally were, they
were never of his enemies. He didn't dream of Voldemort or Wormtail or even
Snape or Lucius Malfoy or the Slytherins or at least when he did they weren't
what he called nightmares. His nightmares were always about his friends, people
he knew, people he trusted. Except in his nightmares they would change
and become dark and terrifying. He would be talking to Ron or Hermione and then
some cast would come over their faces and their eyes would change and as they
stepped toward him he would leap awake in pure terror as if he had gazed upon
the very face of evil.
Once he had remembered where he was he invariably got the urge to not be there.
He didn't like the silent, sleeping bodies around him. They seemed strangely
sinister, as though he couldn't be sure they were really who they should be,
hidden behind their curtains. Their breathing haunted him as he grabbed his
invisibility cloak, jumping at every creak of the floorboards and rattle of
rain against the window.
That night it was bitterly cold and he shivered despite the jumper over his
dressing gown and the thick socks and slippers on his feet.
He was tired but he knew if he went back to bed and back to sleep he would slip
straight back into the nightmare. The cold kept him awake and made things feel
a little more like reality. He headed for the Astronomy tower, the air around
him was so cold he knew for sure the stars would be in brilliant display. He
would watch them for a little while, as long as he could stand the cold anyway.
Which probably wouldn't be long. It wasn't a good idea to be out long anyway
and chance another beating for breaking the rules. He never thought he would
miss the days of simple detention and lost house points.
He was into the large observatory room and looking for a good place to sit
before he realised he wasn't alone. Then the faint movement almost out of his
eye line froze him in place. After a second of heart stopping fear of the sort
he only felt when nightmares were still following him, he remembered he was
invisible still and he pulled himself together and slowly turned to face the
movement. 
On the floor, curled under a blanket of some sort with only his eyes and his
hair showing, was Draco Malfoy. Furthermore he looked absolutely petrified, his
eyes darting around the room. Harry realised he must have made some noise as he
came in that Malfoy had heard and been unable to explain. Careful to be silent
he knelt down in front of the Slytherin, who was starting to calm down again as
the noise didn't repeat itself. It was strange being this close to Malfoy
without any glaring or angry words. The last time he had been around Malfoy
while invisible Ron had been there too and it hadn't been all that
much different from usual. He had scared Malfoy stupid that time as well, but
it had been intentional.
He wasn't in the mood for fighting or practical jokes tonight. He didn't want
to scare anyone and he found he didn't mind so much that Malfoy was here.
Hidden, sleeping people whose faces he had only lately seen in his nightmares
were not much use, but awake people who had not featured in his nightmares were
rather welcome. Unfortunately he wasn't sure what would happen if he revealed
himself to Malfoy, he doubted the other boy would react well to his presence.
He knew he wouldn't have if the situation were reversed.
"Pull yourself together," Malfoy muttered to himself. "You're too old to be
jumping at shadows. It's not like the castle isn't haunted."
It was odd to hear Malfoy talk to himself, his tone was very different than
when he was performing for an audience. Whispering instead of declaring.
Consoling instead of sneering. Still a little bitter though, still an edge. So
sharp he probably cut himself. He wondered what it would feel like if he just
reached out and touched his face. It was strange to be crouching right here, so
close, with Malfoy literally staring through him. Despite having spent five
years as part of the wizarding world a part of him still couldn't quite believe
that someone could look right through him.
Malfoy leaned his head back against the wall and breathed out a long slow
breath that spread out in a cloud before him. He still held the blanket up to
his neck but more out of a desire for warmth than to hide beneath. Harry
studied his face. What was he thinking? Why was he out here? Why did he always
go out of his way to get in Harry's way?
Was it just because he was a Gryffindor and Malfoy was a Slytherin? Was it
because of his friends? Because he was Harry Potter?
In the strangeness of the moment Harry forgot that just because he couldn't be
seen didn't mean he couldn't be heard. Not that he even really intended to say
anything out loud as the word dropped from his lips. "Why?"
Malfoy jerked upright instantly, staring straight at Harry. "Wh..." he croaked,
then tried again. "Who said that?" His voice sounded young in a way Malfoy's
voice never did.
Harry froze himself, even holding his breath. Should he say who he was? Show
himself? He should leave, he was pretty sure he should just leave before he
made this any worse. Instead he reached up and pulled the Invisibility cloak
away from his head.
Malfoy visibly jumped as he appeared but unlike the last time, in front of the
Shrieking Shack, he made no more noise than a slight hitched intake of breath
and he made no move to run away. "Potter?" he seemed to gather himself and
Harry still felt a little detached as if he were not quite there as he watched
Malfoy's face change almost in slow motion back into the more familiar sneering
mask. It made him age at least a couple of years in appearance. "What are you
doing up here? How the hell did you do that?"
Harry felt no urge to speak so he didn't. He pulled the invisibility cloak
fully off and held it out to Malfoy in explanation.
"Is that.... an invisibility cloak!"
Harry nodded and folded it up carefully. Holding it in his lap he just looked
at Malfoy, not sure what to do next. A shiver ran through him as a draft ran
across the room.
"It's cold," said Malfoy, sounding a little confused. "Where did you get an
invisibility cloak?"
Harry looked down at it. "It was a gift," he said finally.
Draco gave a soft bark of derisive laughter. "Typical, where would you be if it
weren't for the gifts of your many admirers?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, pulling the cloak to his chest
possessively.
"The fastest brooms, invisibility cloaks... how can the rest of us compete.
Some of us have to earn what they get."
They were on familiar ground now. "Like those fancy brooms your father bought
you and the rest of the Slytherins?" Harry spat.
"You already had a Nimbus 2000, how could I even hope to win without as good a
broom?"
"You shouldn't even have been on the team, you bought your way on to it. I had
to earn my place."
"I don't think so, McGonagall was just desperate to have the famous Harry
Potter on her team. Anyone else would have got detention for disobeying Hooch."
"I wouldn't have been disobeying anyone if you hadn't been causing trouble."
"You would have let Longbottom fight his own battles if you didn't love the
attention as much. Harry Potter, protector of the innocent."
"You're one to talk about loving attention. Can't stand not being Daddy's best
boy, maybe you should have just stayed at home with your mother."
"At least I have a mother to go home to!"
Harry dropped the cloak, fell forward onto his knees and grabbed Malfoy by the
neck. "Keep going and you'll get plenty of attention, showing up at breakfast
with half your teeth missing," Harry hissed.
Malfoy just looked up at him with an insolent smirk.
"What the hell are you doing sitting up here anyway?" Harry demanded.
Malfoy shrugged. "None of your business, Potter. I don't recall you telling me
what you were doing here, so why should I tell you."
Harry let go of him and picked up the cloak. "Fine," he said. "I don't care
anyway." Then, instead of leaving, he put the cloak on the floor against the
wall and sat down on it next to Malfoy.
For a little while they mostly ignored each other.
Harry could feel the slight amount of body heat Malfoy was giving off beside
him, it was so cold that even a little more heat was something you couldn't
help leaning into a bit. He thought he should probably leave, or at least
conjure up some heat. He did neither, just pulled his knees tighter to his
chest and stuck them under his jumper.
Malfoy looked at him in irritation. "You'll ruin it doing that."
"What?"
"Putting your knees in it, you'll stretch it all out."
"Oh," said Harry looking at Malfoy as if he'd sprouted horns. "Well, I'm cold."
Malfoy made a hmpphing noise that reminded Harry very much of Aunt Petunia,
which suddenly seemed very very funny. So funny that Harry couldn't seem to
stop himself from laughing.
"What's so funny," Malfoy protested.
Harry shook his head and laughed harder.
"Stop laughing!"
There was nothing like being told to stop laughing to turn amusement into a
full out laughter fit. He fell against Malfoy, gasping for breath. It was just
all so funny. The most powerful dark wizard in the world was trying to kill him
and the one place he had thought was safe was being run by Death Eaters and yet
here he was in the freezing cold Astronomy tower being told not to stretch his
jumper by Draco Malfoy whom he was sitting with because he was afraid of the
dark and to top it all off he was probably going to fail all his OWLs.
Malfoy tried to push him away but Harry was beyond that, he had a feeling that
if he tried to stop laughing he might start crying instead and that was the
last thing he needed. And even that was funny. Tragi-comic even. He gasped for
breath and for a crystal moment of silence he looked at Malfoy and then he
moved before he could tell himself what a bad idea this was.
Shoving Malfoy onto his back he pulled away the blanket and attacked the other
boy in a manner that made absolute sense to him right then and there. He
tickled him.
"What are you!? Hey, get off!" After that he managed to hit just the right spot
under Malfoy's ribs and the other boy laughed against his will.
"I've got you now, Malfoy," Harry grinned maniacally. "Now you'll feel the
wrath of the great Harry Potter."
"Get... off... stop... it..." gasped Malfoy in between peals of laughter such
as Harry had never heard from him before. Pure, childish laughter. It was
something Harry hadn't heard much of lately and it was good. Malfoy tried to
kick out with his feet but they were tangled in the blanket and Harry pinned
them under him.
Finally Harry paused a moment, grabbing Malfoy's hands and holding them against
the floor to stop him from getting away. He leant his forehead against Malfoy's
chest and panted for breath. Malfoy, too, didn't seem to have enough air for
words or further struggle as he lay still and silent underneath him aside from
the heaving gasps for oxygen.
As he got his breath back Harry noticed that Malfoy's dressing gown was in
disarray and his pyjama top had ridden up. Directly in his line of sight was
Malfoy's belly button and he found himself staring at it. Just the idea that
Malfoy had a belly button seemed odd. He sometimes almost forgot Malfoy was
just a boy, not so very different from everyone else. He thought of him as a
cipher, an archetypal bully, a force of nature. Not just a boy with soft pale
skin and a small belly button with a line of downy hair leading down from it
into the waistband of his pyjamas.
He thought he should probably let go of Malfoy now and leave. He really should.
He brought his head down lower and licked the soft skin next to Malfoy's belly
button. He watched it hitch as Malfoy gasped in surprise. His arms pulled
slightly but not enough to break Harry's hold on his wrists.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, his voice higher than usual.
Harry licked again, the other side this time and slower, trying to take in
everything about the feel and smell and taste of Malfoy's skin as if it might
explain something to him. Then he drew back a little and looked up
thoughtfully, letting go of Malfoy's wrists. 
Malfoy sat up and scrambled back, tugging his pyjamas back into place and they
regarded each other from a distance of a few feet, the air between them
occasionally clouded with frozen exhalations.
Before either of them could find anything to say or do the stillness was broken
by a shudder of chill that ran through Malfoy's body after being pressed
against the cold stone floor. Somehow that seemed to bring down the far too
complicated reality of the situation and Harry grabbed his cloak and made a run
for it leaving Malfoy sitting alone on the floor wondering what the hell was
going on.
-----------------
Harry had sat awake for a very long time after getting back to bed and as a
result he had to be dragged out of bed that morning by his roommates to make it
down in time for their morning exercise period. He half tripped down the
stairs, shivering in his short gym robes, being roughly pointed in the right
direction by Ron who was muttering under his breath about the unfairness of
life and Lucius Malfoy.
Harry had to admit he was fitter than he'd ever been but he could live without
having to get up an hour earlier than in the past and freeze his arse off
running around in the cold morning air in his skimpy gym robes which were
sleeveless and only fell to mid thigh with slits up the side. At least a little
over a month of doing this every morning meant his legs weren't quite as
embarrassing as when they'd started.
As they spilled down the steps and into the fresh and extremely cold morning
Harry almost stopped dead as he spotted Malfoy's pale hair among the crowd of
green clad Slytherins.
"Come on, come on," shouted their gym teacher, Professor Gonrunin (or Chad as
he liked to be called). "We haven't got all bloody morning. Quick march. Into
place before we all freeze to the ground." Chad was a loud, cheerful man that
Harry had a strong distrust for although he couldn't quite explain why. He was
very friendly and always called the boys by their first names.
They formed into rough lines, shivering in the extremely early winter, to start
their warm up. They were well practiced by now having done the same routine
every morning, first warm up and stretching in rows then off on a five mile run
round the grounds. The whole male student population of the school, about one
hundred and fifty in total, in a straggled panting row of red, green, blue and
yellow. If you didn't make it back in time to clean up for breakfast then
you didn't get breakfast. The girls were not expected to do this in the morning
for reasons that escaped Harry and Ron, they did however have a compulsory gym
class before dinner which seemed to be similar although the boys were very
strictly forbidden from watching in case they were struck with uncontrollable
lust at the sight of the girls in their gym robes. Ron thought that was very
unfair too. 
Harry fell into his usual almost trance state and by the time they started
running his brain was barely functioning at all since all it needed to do was
put one foot in front of the other and follow the people in front of him. It
turned out Harry was actually a natural long distance runner, Chad said it
wasn't surprising given his build and Harry supposed that all those years of
running away from Dudley had probably helped too. As a result it wasn't long
before he was near the front of the line with the other strong runners, leading
the way around the lake. He seemed to be waking up now, the thought of a
hot shower and a good breakfast making the day seem not too bad after all.
He realised with a start that he was running a little behind Malfoy, this
shouldn't have surprised him as Malfoy was always near the front of the line.
He was one of the best runners in the school and Harry suspected that his
father had been making Malfoy do this every morning a lot longer than he'd been
inflicting it on the entire school. 
As he watched the boy in front of him run, unconsciously matching his stride,
he wondered what Malfoy thought of his father being headmaster. At first he had
assumed things would be made pretty easy for the Slytherins under the new
regime, and in a way they were, but oddly enough they didn't seem to be for
Malfoy. At first the boy had been as cocky as usual but there had been a
brittleness to it and it had faded over the last month. Snape was as easy on
him as he'd ever been but most of the other teachers were far harsher on Malfoy
than the other Slytherins and his father was the worst of all. If his father or
one of the new teachers he had hired caught Malfoy doing anything even slightly
out of line he was dragged off to the headmaster's office and you could tell he
had been beaten when he reappeared if you looked carefully. It was visible in
the stiff line of his shoulders or a slight limp or the way he winced slightly
as he sat down and sometimes even more clearly than that by visible bruises on
his face and legs.
Harry was no stranger to Lucius Malfoy's hand himself and he and Ron often bore
their own bruises after being caught fighting with the Slytherins in the
corridors or talking in class or just not knowing the answer to a question or
getting a low mark on an essay. Ron in particular fell foul of the teachers, a
combination of the Weasley temper and his bad studying habits which had
deteriorated further without Hermione to help him.
At first he and Hermione had been utterly horrified by this new form of
discipline, in fact Mrs Weasley had withdrawn Ginny from school after she had
been caned for talking back to a teacher. Ginny had been furious that her
mother thought she couldn't handle what her brothers could but in truth Mrs
Weasley had wanted to take them all out the school and only the boys refusal to
leave had stopped her. Harry hadn't found it quite so hard to adjust, he had
felt the back of Uncle Vernon's hand often enough and on occasion his belt as
well. The cane was new to him and it bloody stung, but he could take it. He'd
lived through Cruciatus after all, what was a little beating after that?
What he really hated was the separation of boys and girls. Not because he
longed to moon over them or whatever, but simply because he missed Hermione.
They scarcely saw her these days with separate common rooms, separate classes
and even meals eaten at different ends of their house table. Hermione felt it
even more strongly as she had never got on well with her fellow female
classmates and now that Ginny had left she really did have no-one to talk to
anymore. The three of them met up occasionally in secret but they had been
caught last time and although they hadn't seen Hermione to see how much trouble
she had got from it both he and Ron had been beaten black and blue for being
out after dark, fraternising with a girl and for talking back when they were
caught. Ron still hadn't got the hang of not digging them in deeper.
Filch had been delighted, being allowed to beat the pupils more than made up
for still not being allowed to chain them up by their ankles. Lucius Malfoy
believed in short, sharp shock techniques rather than long term torture. A good
hard beating then back to your classes.
Not that everything Lucius Malfoy had instituted was completely awful.
These early morning runs had their pros and their cons and some of their new
timetable was actually pretty interesting. But Harry couldn't easily accept
anything that Lucius Malfoy, and therefore Voldemort, condoned. The extra
dueling and more practical Dark Arts classes might seem like fun but the
reasoning behind it was no doubt to lead them towards Voldemort's side. Their
new Care of Magical Creatures classes were more informative but their teacher
was no Hagrid and he was constantly aware of an unpleasant agenda behind
everything. On the other hand he didn't have to take Divination anymore, only
people who showed definite talent were allowed to continue the class.
He was contemplating the crappiness of the current situation so hard that he
ran right into the back of Malfoy when the other boy came to a halt on the
grass outside the doors of the school. Malfoy was bowled right over since Harry
had been running full out and paying no attention to anything but his thoughts
and Malfoy's arse, completely unaware they were at the end of their run.
He rolled over and looked up at Harry in anger and confusion, his knees and
arms were stained green by the grass to match his robes. 
"What the fuck are you playing at, Potter?" he spat when he saw who had knocked
him over.
"Sorry," Harry blurted before he could think better of it.
"Sorry?" Malfoy snarled, Harry's apology seemed to send him into a rage.
"You're sorry!" He got to his feet. "I'll make you bloody sorry," he said
darkly then leapt at Harry.
Harry threw his hands up to ward Malfoy off and was knocked flat on his back,
Malfoy promptly punched him hard.
They couldn't have picked a worse time to be fighting on the school steps.
Harry had just managed to wrestle Malfoy under him and was raising an arm to
punch him in the eye when his arm was grabbed and he was pulled to his feet by
it. He was still looking down at Malfoy and he saw fear chase away the anger in
his face as he saw who was holding Harry's arm. Harry looked round and into the
face of Lucius Malfoy who was looking right past him and regarding his son in
cold fury. "Follow me," he hissed at Malfoy and without even looking at Harry
he began to drag him into the school.
He pushed Harry and Malfoy ahead of him and walked behind them, they both knew
where they were going. The headmaster's office. Harry had seen more of it in
one month than he had in almost his entire previous three years at Hogwarts.
There were certain boys that Lucius Malfoy made a point of chastising himself
whenever possible, Harry was one of the select few, as was his son. The other
boys he mostly left to the rest of the teachers and Argus Filch. All the boys
kept close track of their punishments in a strange sort of competition. This
would be Harry's fifth time in the headmaster's office this year and his fourth
caning of the week. Although they'd all been pretty minor events this week, for
which he'd been thankful as he still bore the marks from last Saturday's
punishment for meeting with Hermione. He hadn't been able to sit down on
Sunday.
Harry had never been up here at the same time as Malfoy and it made him
nervous. Getting a beating was one thing but getting a beating in front of
Malfoy was another, particularly from his father. Of course he'd been caned in
front of Malfoy before in class but that was usually just a few fast swats to
the hand or the arse. He could pretty much guarantee that much at least once
every Potions class. Lucius Malfoy put far more into it than that.
He pushed Harry down across the desk without saying a word and Harry simply
assumed the position and tried to forget that there was anyone else there. His
cheek pressed to the wood of the desk and his hands gripping the sides he
closed his eyes and relaxed, it hurt less if you were relaxed.
With a casual flip of his cane Lucius Malfoy swept the hem of Harry's gym robes
up over his back and with a practiced hand he administered six hard strikes to
the sensitive skin at the top of the thigh. Harry managed with no more than a
muffled mph through his tightly pressed lips.
When no more blows fell Harry stood up and stepped away, he made to leave but
was stopped by a sharp word from Lucius Malfoy, the first time he had spoken to
him the whole time. "Stay, Potter!" he ordered, but when Harry turned back he
saw that Lucius was still looking at his son. Harry stood uncertainly by the
door as he realised that this had very little to do with him at all.
Malfoy's face was a picture of horror and he was actually foolish enough to
start to protest. "Father, you..." he trailed off at the look on his father's
face.
"Be silent!" he ordered. "What am I supposed to do with you? Fighting on the
school steps like a common muggle. I try, Draco. I try to instruct you in the
way to behave but you will not listen. Over the desk!"
With one last angry, trapped look at Harry, Malfoy bent over the desk.
As he had with Harry, Lucius Malfoy flipped the hem of his gym robes up over
his back and Harry stared in flushed embarrassment, somehow unable to tear his
eyes away. Malfoy was wearing a jock strap as they were all supposed to wear
for gym, Harry had refused to do so on the grounds that it was positively
indecent and really uncomfortable. The jock strap in question was black and
Malfoy's skin stood out like a beacon framed by it, the dark green gym robes
and the mahogany of the desk he was leaning on. It was almost as if there were
a spotlight shining on him, Harry couldn't seem to see anything but that pale
skin and the patina of fading bruises that marked it already. Some of them were
at least as recent as the past couple of days.
Lucius Malfoy rested the end of the cane on Draco's backside as he talked in a
weary tone. "I keep thinking this will be the last time, that you will learn
the lessons I try and teach you. Why do you continue to defy me? Have you grown
to like the pain you continually force me to inflict on you? Perhaps a little
humiliation will accomplish what simple pain does not."
Harry realised he was talking about his presence and shrank back against the
door. He did not want to be here for this, Malfoy hated him enough as it was.
"This fighting will stop."
With a sharp slash he brought the cane up and back down. As Draco jerked
slightly under the force of the blow Harry became aware that he had never
really been hit that hard. Rather than pull back at the end of the swing making
a loud crack and a stinging pain that faded, Lucius Malfoy used a driving blow
on his son that landed and stayed making a dull slap. Harry started to wonder
how old some of the marks on Malfoy's body were. He finally managed to tear his
eyes away and looked down at the floor, somehow it didn't help. He wished he
could stop up his ears so he didn't need to hear the sound of the cane striking
flesh, the desk scraping a little against the floor as Malfoy jerked hard
enough to move it, the little gasps of breath that occasionally came close to
an expression of pain but were held back by what must be an iron will. Was it
his father he didn't want to show weakness in front of or was it Harry's
presence that kept him silent? Please let it be over soon, make him stop soon.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Harry had his eyes screwed closed now and his back pressed hard against the
door as if he could merge with it and fall out the other side. He should stop
this himself, it wasn't right, but what could he do? He didn't even have his
wand as there was nowhere to carry it when running. He should speak out...
Twenty.
There was a lull and Harry opened his eyes when the rhythm of strikes was
broken. He glanced up through his hair uncertainly.
Lucius Malfoy was standing again as before, with the end of the cane resting on
Malfoy's backside which was no longer pale but criss-crossed with dark red
marks. Just as Harry breathed a sigh of relief that it was over he stepped
back, moved the cane to his other hand and began again.
Harry was so shocked that he didn't look away immediately but stared open
mouthed as he began just above Malfoy's knees and worked his way methodically
up the backs of his thighs.
"I expect this lesson to take Draco," he said calmly, as if it were perfectly
normal and understandable to be doing this. "As such I will make sure you feel
it every time you sit down for a week or more. At the very least I'm sure you
will be in no hurry to misbehave again until these have faded. If you do I
shall simply have to try harder to find something that works. Perhaps we'll try
this in front of the entire school next time."
Harry looked down at the floor again and realised with a gulp that for the
first time ever he felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. More than that he wanted to
help him, somehow. This was his fault, it was his behaviour last night that had
provoked Malfoy to attack him this morning. His lack of attention that had led
to the confrontation in the first place by knocking the other boy over. His
presence that must be making this even harder for Malfoy than it normally was.
And then there was that... harder than it normally was.
All those times he had seen bruises on Malfoy's face, bruises on his legs. Seen
them and barely thought about it. No-one else carried bruises like Malfoy's
around the school and he could make excuses and say he'd just thought Malfoy's
pale skin bruised easily or showed the marks more but that wasn't true. He'd
never thought that. The truth was he hadn't cared why Malfoy carried so many
more bruises that lasted so much longer than anyone else's, in fact from time
to time he'd even thought that it served him right for being such an annoying
git. Just Malfoy getting what he deserved.
Malfoy had started to make a low muffled grunt every time the cane struck him,
obviously unable to stay completely silent any longer.
Harry thought he might be sick.
He slid down the door slowly until he was sitting on the floor and waited for
it to be over. He didn't realise it was until he heard Lucius Malfoy speak to
him.
"Get up, Potter. What are you doing on the floor?"
Harry scrambled to his feet and glanced in Malfoy's direction. As their eyes
met, Malfoy's flashed with anger and humiliation, his face was pale and blotchy
and his cheeks were wet with tears of pain. Tears Harry knew Malfoy would be in
no hurry to forgive him seeing, which was a little unfair since Harry would at
this point have given almost anything to not have had to see what had just
occurred. In fact he would rather have endured it than observed it.
Lucius Malfoy looked him over with disgust at Harry's obvious distress. "Get
out, both of you. Don't let me see you again today, Draco, I have had enough of
you."
Despite his desire to be out of there it was Malfoy who moved first to open the
door and leave. Harry stared at Lucius Malfoy a moment in dumb confusion before
he pulled himself together a little and followed Malfoy out.
He watched the top of Malfoy's head descend the staircase in front of him, he
reached one hand out to the banister and Harry saw it was shaking. When they
reached the bottom Malfoy actually stopped in the corridor and leaned his
forehead on the wall, Harry could see that his legs were trembling. He could
also see the trail of red marks running down the back of his thighs to the pale
skin behind his knees.
"Malfoy..." Harry began hesitantly, reaching out a hand to touch the other boys
shoulder.
Before he reached Malfoy the other boy straightened up with a jerk. "Piss off,
Potter," he said in a pale imitation of his usual tone. "I'm fine." With that
he started to walk stiffly away from Harry.
"I could...."
Malfoy spun around, anger spitting from his eyes. "I told you to piss off,
Potter. I don't need anything from you so you can just forget you were even
here. If you tell anyone..."
"I won't..."
"Shut up!" Malfoy seemed consumed by fury and Harry thought it might be the
only thing keeping him standing, so he shut up. "I will kill you, Potter.
Understand? If you breathe one word of this to anyone."
He turned away again and Harry watched him limp down the hall.
--------------------
Harry didn't tell anyone what had really happened. He let everyone assume that
Malfoy had got no worse than Harry had, if anything at all, and it left an
unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach that everyone was so quick to assume
Harry had got into more trouble than Malfoy.
All day he felt himself keeping an eye out for the other boy but he didn't see
him once. Not in classes, not in meals. He began to worry. Could Malfoy have
gone to Madame Pomfrey? Somehow he didn't think so, the pride that had held
Malfoy up in front of Harry would stop him from seeking assistance from the
school nurse as well.
By the time dinner was done Harry was thinking about nothing else, he still
felt responsible for what had happened. As he climbed the stairs to the
Gryffindor common room he decided it was time for another night time wander
under the cover of his invisibility cloak.
Making his way to the Slytherin common room was easy enough, he knew where it
was after all. Getting inside was harder. He stood outside for what felt like
forever in the grip of intense indecision and an odd sort of churning in the
pit of his stomach that reminded him a little of how he felt before he had a
big Quidditch match. He had absolutely made up his mind that it was his duty to
check Malfoy was all right, but still the sheer nervous terror that was
building up made him almost leave several times before he managed to sneak in
along with a bunch of third year Ravenclaw boys. This was ridiculous. All
right, maybe he had stepped a little over the line with Malfoy last night...
okay, a lot over the line. It really wasn't done to just go around licking
people because you felt like it, even if they did taste really good. But that
was last night and this was today and the two events had nothing to do with one
another. There would be no more licking and Malfoy had bigger things to be
upset about than Harry taking liberties with his stomach.
The common room had changed considerably since the last time he had been here.
The room was now split down the middle with one side of the room decorated in
Slytherin green and silver and the other in Ravenclaw blue. Harry's eyes
flicked over the changes as he made his way to the staircase up to the
Slytherin boys dormitories. Sometimes he felt it was the little changes that
bothered him the most, the insidiousness of it. He missed his own common room's
cheery red glow, now split in half with one side in Hufflepuff yellow and
black.
Proceeding slowly he located the 5th year Slytherin boys dorm, the door was
standing open and he walked straight in. The dorm room was quiet and all the
beds bar one were unoccupied. That one stood at the furthest end and had the
curtains drawn around it. Harry walked over to it and going around to the side
hidden from the door he peered between the curtains. It took a moment for his
eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the bed but eventually he made out the
shape of pale shoulders and after a minute he could see Draco Malfoy lying on
his stomach under a light blanket. His face was turned in Harry's direction but
his eyes were closed and it looked like he was asleep.
Harry wondered what to do now. Should he just leave again? He'd checked on
Malfoy, Malfoy was alive. What now? As his eyes grew more accustomed to the
darkness he began to see more, details like old bruises on his back and in the
faint light that filtered through the crack Harry had made in the curtains he
could see that Malfoy had been crying. It seemed wrong that Malfoy should cry.
Not real tears, not alone in the darkness like Harry did. Fake tears, crocodile
tears, yes, but not real tears.
Before he could think better of it Harry moved carefully onto the bed and
closed the curtains behind him. He sat in the darkness wondering what to do
now, should he wake him up? He had a feeling Malfoy wouldn't be terribly
pleased to see him. Despite that he reached out and ran a finger gently over
one of the bruises on his shoulders. Something in him couldn't look at this
childlike sleeping Malfoy, with tear stains on his cheeks, and not want to
reach out to him.
What the hell was wrong with him these days? He'd been on unsure ground ever
since coming back to school. Unlike the usual feelings Hogwarts provoked,
returning to a school run by Lucius Malfoy felt a lot like still being in
Privet Drive and he felt himself reverting to the person he was there. Quieter
and more withdrawn. Lonely. He missed Hermione and he found it hard to
socialise with Ron and the others. If anything he seemed to get on better with
Neville these days. Ron, Seamus and Dean threw themselves boisterously and
angrily at the new school administration. They had no experience of really
being mistreated and it seemed to make them more self righteous. Every beating
made them complain louder and more stridently. They refused to stay under the
radar whereas Harry couldn't seem to react any other way. Too used to hiding
from Dudley and not talking back to Uncle Vernon, his natural reaction was to
be quiet and take what he was given. Speaking out had only ever made things
worse at Privet Drive.
He didn't think Neville would be at school much longer, his grandmother had
agreed to let him give it a try until Christmas and if she wasn't happy with
how things were going he wouldn't be back. Harry doubted Neville's grandmother
was at all happy with how things were going. Neville was a mess, his clumsiness
in Snape's class had spread to just about every class he was in and his grades
were dropping like a stone. Much like Harry's, but he didn't have a family
around to complain about that or tell him to come home.
Harry frowned as his thoughts turned towards self pity. He would not feel sorry
for himself. He had made a decision about that, a new years resolution if you
would except it hadn't been New Year. He had himself and his magic and more
money than anyone his age had a right to. He would get by. He was alive which
was more than he could say for a lot of people, alive when he probably should
have died several times over. He wouldn't waste that life with self pity.
He focused back on the sleeping boy in front of him. He didn't seem very much
like the big bad Draco Malfoy of old any more. Instead he reminded Harry of a
younger version of himself, hiding alone in the dark of his cupboard, crying
over his latest punishment from Uncle Vernon. Harry felt a strong instinct to
comfort him despite the fact he almost certainly wouldn't welcome any comfort.
He touched the skin of Malfoy's back again, stroking down his spine and pushing
the blanket down almost to his waist. He had to admit that the instinct
to comfort wasn't the only thing he was feeling at this point.
Harry had known he was attracted to boys as well as girls for a couple of years
now. It didn't really bother him, though he had never seriously considered
acting on it. Not that he'd really seriously considered acting on any of his
attractions to girls either. Asking Cho to the ball last year had been about as
far as he had got and now they hardly saw the girls. Besides, girls made him
nervous. He didn't understand them at all. They were so temperamental and
pretty in a strange untouchable way that made his throat close up when he tried
to talk to them. He was afraid he might smudge them with his grubby fingers.
Boys, he figured, couldn't be all that different from him. Even boys who were
Malfoy.
He probably shouldn't be sitting here running his hand up Malfoy's spine. It
was, all things considered, really inappropriate. Malfoy was asleep and as such
unable to tell him to get lost and he shouldn't even be in here. Malfoy's skin
was really soft. He had never thought that a boy’s skin would be so soft
especially given the beatings Malfoy's skin had seen.
There was something particularly exciting about the fact that he was touching
Malfoy without his permission, about sneaking into the Slytherin dormitory and
into someone's bed. Something about it definitely turned him on more than a
little. He got a mental image of a little angel and a little devil either side
of his head. The angel Harry was saying, 'Stop that right now and get back to
your dormitory.' It was definitely the devil Harry that prompted him to lean
down and kiss Malfoy's shoulder. Then he had to taste him again.
As he ran his mouth up Malfoy's spine he felt the other boy start to wake and
drew back again, pressing his lips together as if to seal in the flavour.
Malfoy's eyes flickered open and he rolled back as he registered something in
the bed with him.
"It's just me," Harry whispered unhelpfully.
Draco stared and Harry realised that only his head was visible as he was still
wearing the invisibility cloak. He pulled it off completely.
"Potter?" Malfoy said in sleepy confusion.
"Yeah."
"Were you..." Malfoy trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing
here?"
"You weren't at dinner," said Harry, thinking that it wasn't such a great
reason when you said it out loud. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"You broke into my dormitory because I wasn't at dinner? Are you insane?" The
more he woke up the more annoyed he seemed to become. "What the fuck does it
matter to you whether I go to dinner or not, it's none of your business."
"I was..."
"Worried? Don't be. I can take care of myself, Potter, and if I ever did want
help it wouldn't be from you."
Harry was having difficulty focusing on Malfoy's face or words, his eyes kept
slipping away down his neck to his chest and lower to where the blanket hung
provocatively low over his hips. Malfoy had really nice hips.
"Are you even listening to me?" Malfoy complained as he realised where Harry
was looking. "What is up with you? Did you really come here to check up on me
or just to check me out?"
Harry blushed a bit and pulled his eyes back up. "Both, I think," he answered
frankly.
Malfoy looked a little taken aback by his answer, as if his comment had not
been intended seriously.
"Is that a problem?" Harry asked, his nerves seemed to have disappeared now
that he was actually in Malfoy's presence.
"Checking up on me, I should think so," answered Malfoy thoughtfully. "Checking
me out..."
Draco had known he was gay since he was about 12 or 13, he felt it
was important to know yourself. At first he had thought maybe he could change
it, then when he had realised he couldn't he had ignored it, but that hadn't
worked either, so he had settled for hiding it from everyone but the boys he
fucked. Why ignore your sexuality when it was so much more fun to indulge it?
His father despised it of course, it was one of the reasons he was so intent on
beating Draco into being the son he wanted. Draco had given up trying on that
front, no matter what he did his father was never happy. He worked to avoid the
worst of the beatings, but the rest was simply inevitable in a perfectionist
like his father. He wanted Draco to be straight, Draco knew he couldn't be. He
wanted Draco to be polite to Harry Potter, Draco's blood boiled whenever he saw
the git.
On the other hand the git was growing up into a rather attractive young man and
Draco could really do with something to distract them both from what had
happened this morning. He rather liked the idea of fucking The Boy Who Lived,
it would be quite a notch in his bedpost and make fighting with him so much
more interesting. Just the thought of being able to make him blush whenever he
wanted to...
"...that I think we can work with." He gave Potter his best seductive smoulder
complete with sexy smirk (which he'd worked on in the mirror all summer). It
worked rather better than expected.
No-one had ever looked at Harry like that before, let alone Malfoy, and it ran
through him like pure adrenaline. He wanted in a way he had never wanted
before, a way that seemed to come straight from his groin and pulled him
forward. He pushed Malfoy back onto the bed and pressed him down into it. He
saw a flicker of surprise in Malfoy's eyes before he covered his mouth with his
own.
The angel rolled its eyes in a way that reminded Harry a lot of Hermione and
folded it's arms disapprovingly. Harry stuck his tongue in Malfoy's mouth.
A little taken aback, Malfoy pushed Harry away. "Bloody hell, Potter," he
spluttered. "Where did you learn how to do that?"
"Nowhere," said Harry uncertainly. "Did I do it wrong?"
"No," said Malfoy. "I just never thought you'd..."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," Malfoy shrugged. "You just took me by surprise. Bloody
Gryffindors I suppose, rushing in where angels fear to tread."
Harry grinned at that. "It's okay then?" he asked.
"Well, yeah."
"Should we worry about anyone..." Harry gestured to the curtains.
"They're all scared of me," said Malfoy dismissively. "They won't disturb us
and the curtains are charmed to silence any noise..." he didn't get any further
as he was once more pinned to the bed by Harry.
"Mphh," he protested unconvincingly.
Harry explored Malfoy's mouth thoroughly, holding his head still in both hands.
Malfoy's hands clutched at the front of his robes torn between pulling him
closer and pushing him away. After a moment Malfoy pushed hard and tried to
roll him over but Harry put his full weight into stopping him, he wanted to be
on top. He let go of Malfoy's head and took hold of his wrists instead, pulling
them away from his robes and pinning them beside his head.
"Stay put," he whispered, straddling Malfoy's legs.
"Make me," Malfoy challenged.
The grin that spread across Harry's face in response made him falter a little.
"I thought I just did. I'm stronger than you," Harry pointed out.
"Heavier than me anyway," Malfoy responded. "Do the Gryffindor’s get extra
pudding or something?" Harry had put on weight over summer, and not in a bad
way. He'd been too skinny before, often when he came back after summer he
looked like he hadn't eaten for the whole three months, and it hadn't suited
his build which was short but stocky.
"You're probably too worried about the size of your scrawny arse to eat
pudding."
"My arse is not scrawny!"
Harry transferred Malfoy's wrists to one hand and plunged the other one under
the blanket still lying over Malfoy's hips. He grabbed hold of Malfoy's arse.
Malfoy went rather pale and uttered a cry of pain.
"Shit!" swore Harry, letting go completely and sitting up. "I'm sorry, I
completely forgot."
"Well I'm not about to forget, am I?" Malfoy snarled. He pulled away and
gathered the blanket around himself. "This was a stupid idea. Why don't you
fuck off, Potter."
"Don't be like that," Harry protested. He didn't want to leave now, not when
things had just been getting so interesting. "I'll be more careful."
"You don't have to be fucking careful, I won't break! I'm fine!"
"Well, good then," said Harry and promptly leaned in to kiss him again. This
kissing thing was pretty good, he really should have tried it sooner. Malfoy's
lips were softer than he would have thought, the way the other boy always
seemed to hold them in such tight smirks and scowls. He licked up the arch of
his top lip making Malfoy gasp in a rather enjoyable way then slipped his
tongue back between the parted lips to find Malfoy's tongue and curl his own
against it.
When he drew away he found he had managed to pull Malfoy so close the other boy
was straddling his lap. He ran his hands down Malfoy's sides and over the top
of his thighs as he kissed down his neck, wondering how best to get around
Malfoy's injuries. He had a lot of things he wanted to try tonight and he
didn't want to accidentally hurt the other boy.
He laid Malfoy back down on the bed. "Lie on your stomach," he instructed.
"Why?" asked Malfoy suspiciously.
"Just do it," said Harry, forcefully pushing him over onto his stomach and
pressing his shoulders down into the bed. He ran his hands up Malfoy's pale
forearms, stretching his arms above his head, and then down over his back to
finally get rid of the blanket and leave him fully exposed.
"What are you doing?"
"Something I read in a Quidditch book over summer," Harry answered as he passed
his hands lightly over the bruises on Malfoy's lower body. "I have plans for
you and they need you to be a little less damaged than this." Despite the
unpleasant memories the bruises roused in him his plans roused other, far more
pleasant, feelings. He hadn't wasted that month Dudley had been at fat camp,
the internet was a very wonderful thing full of stories and pictures and chat
rooms where people were more than happy to describe in great detail just what
they might like to do to wizardboy15.
"What kind of Quidditch book?"
"Shut up and let me concentrate." Harry pulled out his wand and tried one of
the spells from the chapter on Quick Fixes for Quidditch Injuries in his
birthday present from Hermione, Practical Quidditch Tips. She might always get
him books but at least they were useful books.
Malfoy sighed in pleasure. "What is that?"
"Temporary numbing spell and a bruise reduction charm." Harry leant down and
planted a wet kiss on Malfoy's left buttock. "Better?"
"Yeah."
Harry continued to nuzzle Malfoy's backside, running a hand up the inside of
his thigh.
Malfoy suddenly realised what else Harry had said. "What plans?" he asked,
trying to roll over again.
Harry promptly put his full weight on Malfoy's back. "Stay put."
"What are you planning? Have you done this before?" he sounded a little
panicked.
"Done what before?"
"This. You know, anything like this."
"No," Harry answered. "But I fully intend to make up for lost time tonight." He
kissed the base of Malfoy's spine. "You're right you know," he said as he
kissed lower. "Your arse isn't scrawny. It's rather nice."
--------------
Draco lay still, flat on his stomach, feeling the damp patch underneath him.
Harry's weight pressed him down into the bed, his breath tickling Draco's neck.
Well, Draco thought lazily. I think I can safely say this got a little out of
my control. He sighed into the pillow. He felt pretty good despite the fact
this was definitely not where he had intended to be at this point. If he wanted
to regain any vague aspect of dignity now would be the perfect time to tell
Potter to get the hell out of his bed, but it just didn't have the same ring as
it did after you'd done the fucking and his limbs felt like jelly and Potter's
weight was comforting in a way he never would have imagined.
Just as he was thinking that Potter started to move, Draco actually found
himself grumbling a complaint as the warm, damp skin pulled away from him.
"Come here," Potter muttered, pulling him round and into a tangled hug.
Draco let himself be pulled into Potter's embrace out of lazy curiosity, too
sated to really argue. He had never cuddled after sex, in fact he was usually
well gone by now and if wasn't for the fact that this was his bed he would be.
Really. He wriggled slightly in Potter's arms, finding the most comfortable
place for his limbs.
"I never really meant us to... when I came up here I mean," Harry said quietly.
"I've never..."
"You said before," Draco muttered, things were enough of a mess without Potter
trying to have a conversation with him.
"But there you were and you looked so... and I just wanted to so much."
"Potter, shut up," Draco fidgeted in his arms.
Potter wrapped one leg over his thighs to hold him in place and he stilled, his
head tucked under Potter's chin. It felt strange to be held like this and not
just because it was after sex. He didn't think he'd ever been hugged like this,
not that he could remember anyway. He felt something suspiciously like tears
pricking in his eyes and turned his head more into the pillow as he tried to
reign them back. He was not going to cry, bad enough to give into it when alone
but with Potter here it was absolutely out of the question. Still a few rogue
tears ran down to wet his pillow and he tightened his arms around Potter hoping
vaguely he might squeeze hard enough to hurt him. It had to be Potter didn't
it, who else would he end up here in the dark with? Who else's arms could hold
him this close? Not his parents, not any of his friends.
Just as he was regaining his composure Potter took hold of the hair on the back
of his head and pulled him up to face him. The darkness was absolute but Potter
pressed their foreheads together and Draco could feel their eyes meeting.
"This is not just for tonight, Malfoy," he said seriously. "This might not have
been planned but I don't take something like this lightly. I'm not nearly
finished with you." He kissed him roughly. "But you have to know that this
doesn't change anything. Not yet anyway. I'm not in love with you and I'm
probably never going to be in love with you, I don't even like you very much."
"Could have fooled me," Draco sniped.
Harry tugged his hair painfully. "We won't be fighting in public anymore so I
recommend you keep your usual opinions to yourself out there. We've all heard
it before anyway and I don't want you back in your father's office."
"Why do you care, you don't even like me remember?"
"I'm not saying you haven't deserved a good slap around the face from time to
time, maybe even more, but you don't deserve that and I don't want it happening
again. Your arse belongs to me now," Potter ran a hand down to take hold of the
property in question.
"Possessive aren't you?" Draco joked around the lump in his throat. "What if I
don't want to be your little sex toy?"
"I don't remember asking what you wanted. Besides, I know better than to listen
to what comes out of your mouth. I've learned that much in the time I've known
you."
"I don't hate you, you know," Draco said suddenly.
"What?"
"I don't, I never did," he repeated. "I wanted us to be friends once if you
remember."
"I remember. We could never have been friends."
"I don't see why not, just because Weasley got his greedy little talons into
you first..."
"That's why not. Ron is a good person, all my friends are good people. You...
you're a close-minded, prejudiced little coward and a bully. I could never be
friends with someone who gets off on tormenting other people just because they
don't fit into his preconceptions of how you're supposed to live."
"Ooh, big words from the boy in the glass house. What does it say about your
morals that you're here with your hands all over my evil little body? As to
Weasley being a good person, that's rich. You think he'd be friends with you if
you were a Slytherin or if your last name was Malfoy? He's thick as two planks
and he resents you for the attention you get, can't you see that? He doesn't
want to be your friend, he wants to be you!"
Potter sighed. "You never change, do you," he said almost to himself. "I'm not
saying Ron is perfect but you're wrong about him. He is a good person."
"He's a git," Draco said firmly. "And you... you are one of the most annoying
people I ever met. You always have to be right about everything, you always
have to win. Look at yourself, even in bed you have to be on top!"
"I don't always have to be right."
"And you always disagree with everything I say."
"I do n... this is ridiculous. All I wanted to say was that we are going to do
this again and I still don't like you. Got it?"
"Got it."
"And for what it's worth I never hated you really either, maybe brief flashes
of loathing and detestation, but mostly just extreme irritation."
"I'm deeply moved. So what the fuck are you doing this for then? Can you answer
me that?"
Potter rolled onto his back, pulling Draco with him. They were still tightly
wrapped around one another despite their current argument and Draco settled
himself on Harry's shoulder. "I don't know. Why not? I wanted to, you wanted
to... I don't know. Who else would I do this with?"
"I don't know, one of your Gryffindor cronies I suppose."
"I just... there's no-one else I could have... I wanted you. Everything's so
different this year but you're you... it wouldn't be Hogwarts without you here.
You know?"
"Maybe." And he thought maybe he did understand. Just as he couldn't have let
anyone else take what Potter had just taken, not willingly anyway. Not that he
had been entirely willing but he hadn't exactly fought Potter off either. To be
jealous and resentful of someone they need to have something you admire, Potter
had his faults. Great big faults... but he was still Harry Potter. Strong,
talented, popular, a born leader... He ran a hand over Potter's chest and then
leaned over to lick one dark nipple. Potter tangled one hand in his hair but
didn't pull him away. Draco tasted and teased Potter's chest, feeling himself
grow hard again as he did so.
"Have you done this before?" Potter asked suddenly.
Draco paused. He'd never done anything like what they'd just done, not really,
but strictly speaking the answer to Potter's question was, "Yes. Sort of,
anyway."
"What do you mean sort of?"
"I mean I've had sex before, fucked before but I've never...."
"What?"
"Never been on the receiving end, all right!"
Potter chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Don't like to play the bottom, huh?"
"Fuck off," he said, blushing.
"Suck my dick," replied Potter, and it didn't sound like just an insult. A
theory born out by Potter's hand which was now pushing Draco's head firmly in
the direction of his groin.
"Hey," Draco protested even as he moved to obey. He really had to stop letting
Potter push him around like this. If only it didn't feel so good to let him. To
be the first person Potter touched like this, the one Potter wanted to suck his
dick. The one who cared whether Draco was in pain or not.
--------------------
Harry lay awake long after Malfoy had fallen asleep against him. Although his
body was more than sated and he could feel it pulling at him to sleep, his mind
was whirring.
He had just lost his virginity, something he hadn't expected to do for years
still. More than that he had lost it with a boy and with Draco Malfoy of all
boys. When he had first touched Malfoy last night he hadn't been thinking at
all. When he had touched Malfoy tonight he hadn't thought it would really go
any further. When Malfoy had actually shown interest... he wasn't sure when he
had actually decided he was going to go all the way. He thought it was probably
sometime between healing Malfoy and sticking his tongue... wow, had he really
done that? Harry thought he might be in shock. It was one thing to pretend you
were doing it on IRC (internet relay chat, this is 1995 after all) and another
altogether to actually do it.
But really, the strangest thing of all was lying here in the dark, not alone.
Warm, smooth body curled around his own. Heartbeat against his arm, rise and
fall of breathing against his side, exhale of breath tickling his chest. Very
weird, comforting and unsettling at the same time. He was worried that if he
fidgeted he would wake Malfoy up and God knows he vastly preferred him silent,
when he opened his mouth he tended to remind Harry why he shouldn't be here
with him.
Harry sighed. The many, many reasons why he should not have just slept with
Draco Malfoy. He's a git, that was definitely number one. His father's a Death
Eater. He wants to be a Death Eater, rising up the charts at number three. He's
a git (the remix) holding at number four. He hates all your friends and they
hate him.
He sighed again and looked down at Malfoy. He's really very pretty when he's
sleeping, he thought absently. Then with horror, please tell me I have a better
reason for this than that. I can just see it now, sorry for betraying
everything Gryffindor stands for, Ron, but you see he was just so pretty I
couldn't help myself. That would go down really well, good thing he had no
intention of Ron ever finding out about this, or anyone else for that matter.
It wasn't that he was embarrassed about his sexuality, in fact Ron and Hermione
already knew pretty much. Not that they spent hours talking it over but it had
come up and it felt right that his best friends should know. But the reasons
for not letting anyone find out about this were almost as numerous as the
reasons he shouldn't be doing it in the first place. They wouldn't understand
was definitely number one, he didn't really understand so how the hell was
anyone else supposed to? He also had the feeling that if Malfoy's father caught
the slightest wind of this then what he'd seen this morning would be a walk in
the park compared to what he might do to both of them.
That made him shiver and despite the feeling that he ought to be heading back
to his dormitory he snuggled lower down and turned into Malfoy, pulling the
bedclothes tight around them both. Shortly after that he fell asleep.
---------------
Draco was woken up by a voice speaking loudly but nervously through his
curtains.
"Malfoy! Um... it's time to get up and... uh...."
It was Crabbe. On the one hand he had been ordered to never disturb him and on
the other he knew it was possible he would also be in trouble if he let him
sleep in. Draco liked to keep people on their toes, never sure what might rouse
his anger. He was about to indulge in some good natured tormenting of his dull-
witted friend when he realised he wasn't alone. Memory came flooding back.
"Shit!"
He grabbed his wand, suspended the silencing charms long enough to shout, "Fuck
off, I'm awake!" and then re-established it to snarl, "Potter, you moron! What
the hell are you still doing here?"
Lying next to him, Potter stirred and started to wake up.
"Wake up! You really haven't done this before have you? Don't you know it's
very bad form to still be here in the morning you big Gryffindor twit. If
someone sees you..."
"I'm awake," Potter muttered grumpily, fumbling around the bed for his glasses.
"Stop yelling."
"I'll stop yelling when you get out of my bed and invisible yourself back to
your own dorm. Get lost, Potter!"
Never a big morning person, Harry grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and
pulled him down. "That's enough," he said angrily. "I'll go when I'm good and
ready."
"Get off me," Malfoy protested rather weakly.
"As soon as you apologise for being an ass," Harry demanded.
"I will not! This is my bed, I'll say what I want in it."
"Tell me you're sorry."
"Or what? Going to beat me up?"
That gave Harry pause. "Damn it," he muttered. He ground his hips down against
the boy under him, "You are so annoying."
Malfoy gasped under him, clutching his forearms hard. "Stop that, we're going
to be late for morning exercise."
Harry let him go and reached for his invisibility cloak, which was lying at the
bottom of the bed where he'd left it. Before he pulled it over his head he
reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the hair again, pulling him into a kiss.
"Don't forget what I said last night, this isn't over."
Then he slipped carefully out of the far side of Malfoy's bed and left.
------------------
Luckily for Harry his room-mates were so bleary eyed in the morning they hardly
noticed he hadn't been in his bed and accepted easily his statement that he'd
got up early to have a shower despite the fact that having a shower before
running didn't make a whole lot of sense.
He arrived outside only a couple of minutes late with wet hair dripping down
his neck and making the morning feel even colder than it was.
Malfoy was already there and Harry couldn't tell whether he'd taken time for a
shower or not. His hair was dry. The thought that he hadn't sent a curl of
desire through Harry, that Malfoy might still be wearing Harry's scent, marked
by Harry's sweat...
Harry shook himself, momentarily thankful for the bitingly cold air.
His view of Malfoy was altered so much he could scarcely look at him as the
same person, the feelings he felt were so different. Sympathy instead of
loathing, desire instead of annoyance.
***** Potions Class *****
Chapter Summary
     Just a little extra I added on to this story.
  For all that Harry had been concerned for Malfoy’s well being, it turned out
to be his own arse on the line next. He simply couldn’t concentrate in any of
the classes that Malfoy was in with him.
  For his part Malfoy was being remarkably well behaved, although how much of
that was due to his demand that Malfoy make sure he didn’t get in any more
trouble and how much was due to the pain he was still in from his last caning
Harry didn’t know. Malfoy still winced every time he sat down on the hard
wooden benches and chairs they used for class and meals, although it was small
enough that you might miss it if you weren’t looking for it. And that was the
problem. Harry was looking for it. Harry was unable to stop looking.
  And thinking about it. Not about the caning, but about what had happened that
night. The feel of Malfoy’s skin, the taste of him, holding him down underneath
him.
  They hadn’t spoken about it, they didn’t even exchange glances as Harry
looked away any time Malfoy looked in his direction. Which wasn’t often as the
other boy seemed to be keeping his head down.
  And in three days Harry hadn’t yet tried going back to Malfoy’s dormitory.
Although every night he’d thought about going.
  And he was thinking about it again as he absently stirred his cauldron,
watching the back of Malfoy’s blonde head, remembering how his shoulders looked
pressed into the sheets. He picked up his wand and rubbed his fingers along the
shaft carelessly. He vaguely heard someone come into the classroom behind him,
hazily noted Snape walking towards whoever it was. He thought about sinking
slowly into Malfoy and squeezed his wand tightly, barely stirring at all now.
  And it was at that moment, just as Snape was about to pass his desk to speak
to whomever was at the door, that his cauldron over boiled violently, causing
him to leap up as the desk began to melt and burn at the same time.
  He cast an unthoughtout Aguamenti just as his brain caught up and reminded
him that water wasn’t always a good idea in potions accidents. A cloud of steam
exploded outwards as he fell backwards over his bench to escape it.
  There were several moments of chaos before Snape got the situation under
control and Harry scrambled back up to his feet to face a furious Snape and an
amused voice from behind him.
“Mr. Potter,” said Lucius Malfoy. “How very careless.”
  Harry half turned to see the Headmaster standing behind him, but without
fully turning his back on Professor Snape.
“Potter,” Snape barked. “Into my office, I will deal with you in a minute.”
  Harry spun back around and started to obey, but was stopped again by Lucius
Malfoy.
“No, I don’t think so,” said the Headmaster silkily. He still sounded amused.
Harry had noticed that while he sounded chillingly furious when punishing his
son he always sounded mildly entertained when punishing Harry. As if it were an
unexpected treat. “I think we can deal with this now. Punishment should be
immediate, the lesson takes better that way.”
  Snape inclined his head in      acquiescence.      “To the front then,
Potter. Hands on my desk.”
  Harry walked to the front of the class, past Ron’s whispered “Hard luck,
mate.” and Seamus’ surreptitious thumbs up sign. It wasn’t unusual for him to
end up feeling the cane in Snape’s class, but oddly enough he’d come to dislike
the potions master far less than some of his other teachers this year. Snape
had always seemed to single him out unfairly before, but something had shifted
and he had the strangest feeling sometimes that Snape was keeping an eye on him
even as he appeared to be doing otherwise.
  But he had a bad feeling about this. Actually blowing up your cauldron was
deeply frowned on for students his age, and Snape must have noticed he’d done
it out of his own carelessness. Snape missed very little in his classroom. And
then there was Lucius Malfoy, who did not approve of light punishment for
stupidity.
  And sure enough he felt his robes flipped up over his back, heavier than the
short gym robes he had worn in the Headmaster’s office. Most times in class the
cane was administered to the hand or over your robe. Harry found himself
blushing, even though it was nothing the other boys hadn’t seen before. And yet
his mind strayed back to Malfoy bent over his father’s desk, his smooth white
buttocks framed by his dark robes. And that shouldn’t be arousing, what had
happened that morning had been terrible. But it was, and he felt his cock
twitch against his underpants. Which made him blush even harder.
  He glanced to the side and saw the class watching him, but his eyes looked
for Malfoy’s and he was finally looking back at Harry. He was very still and
white.
  Then Harry realised he could still see Snape hovering. Then it wasn’t…
  The first strike across his bare thighs shot through him like a canon blast.
He yelped in shock, gripping the desk hard.
  If he had been looking he would have seen Draco jerk with the blow himself,
but his eyes were squeezed shut and his vision was white behind his eyelids.
  Apparently Lucius Malfoy felt, now that Harry had seen just how well his own
son could take his punishment, he would up the ante on Harry as well.
  The next stroke was like fire across the crease between his thighs and his
arse, he twisted like a fish, unable to not move. How did Malfoy stay still for
this? How did he stay so quiet?
“Really, Potter. Every time you move without permission I will only repeat that
stroke.”
  Harry’s mouth gaped as he drew in panting breaths trying to master his body.
He tried to steady his breathing, to breathe out in a whoosh as the next stroke
came.
  But his breathe jerked back into him as soon as it hit. He made wordless
noises trying not to swear, but he managed to hold still this time by the skin
of his teeth.
  Then again, with little time to prepare. And he bit his own tongue and dug
his nails into his hands to make more pain to distract from the other pain and
that somehow helped.
  There were only two more strokes after that, and he held onto the desk for
grim death through both of them, fighting to control his breathing and
repeating over and over in his head,     ‘Crucio is worse, crucio is worse, it
could be worse...’     Until he felt his robes flicked back down over his
stinging skin and even that hurt more than he had known it could. The harsh
wool against the livid marks that must have been left there. He stood up
shakily and all he could think was,     ‘Forty. Malfoy took forty of those.’
  He hobbled back to his desk past the white faces of his classmates and nearly
cried out when he sat back down. He just sat there, stiff and shocky, as Snape
and the Headmaster discussed whatever he had come to discuss and then Lucius
Malfoy left again and the class eventually wound down.
  As people began to pack up Snape raised his voice, “Potter, please stay
behind. I would like to discuss the correct response to an over-boiling
cauldron with you.”
  Harry gave a stiff nod and remained in his seat as the others packed away and
filed out.
  Ron whispered as he passed, “Bloody hell, Harry. You’d think he’d let you off
after that.”
  Harry smiled robotic     al     ly in response and waited as the last people
left.
  Malfoy was the last person out and he hesitated as he stood up. Looking at
Snape and then flicking a glance back to Harry. But he walked past and out of
the room silently.
“In my office, Potter,” Snape told him and Harry stood with a wince and walked
stiffly after him into his office. “Close the door.”
  Harry was confused, but did as he was told.
  Snape went to his shelves and searched out a jar of something. “It is not
permitted to see Madame Pomfrey for injuries received as part of discipline,”
he said quietly. “And I cannot allow you to take this away with you, but it
will help.” He came over to Harry. “If you will allow me?”
  Harry just stared for a moment, then asked, “Why?”
  Snape looked at him narrowly. “Sometimes it is better not to ask questions,”
he replied brusquely.
“Um, okay?” Harry responded, no less confused.
  Snape gestured and Harry realised he was going to have to expose himself
again. Trying to control his embarrassment he lifted his own robes and bent
slightly over Snape’s desk, wishing strangely that the elastic on his underwear
wasn’t quite so frayed. As if Snape gave a damn what his underwear looked like.
  He jumped slightly as cold, slick fingers touched the back of his thighs.
Partly the cold and partly the painful, swollen skin that was being touched.
But as those fingers massaged whatever it was Snape had in the jar into the
welts the pain did ease. He worked from the lower most mark upwards until he
had to push the legs of Harry’s pants aside to properly access the stripe
across the crease of his legs.
  Harry’s embarrassment suddenly sky rocketed as he realised he was growing
aroused again. The hands were entirely professional, but he was alone with his
arse in view and as the pain faded he became too aware that those fingers were
only centimetres from being entirely too intimate and he was remembering
soothing Malfoy’s injuries and what had followed from that.
  He bit his lip and tried to think of revolting things, but all he could think
was surely the idea of Professor Snape touching him ought to be revolting
enough. But apparently it was not.
  Snape’s fingers stilled as Harry      inadvertently      arched back into
them. Stilled but did not retreat.
  Then those fingers stroked once more over the exposed skin. Touching, not
caressing, but no longer entirely clinical.
  Harry let out an unsteady breath, and confusing even himself he bent lower
over the desk, tilting his hips.
  Snape’s fingers pushed slowly under the elastic of his underwear. He heard
the jar being put down on the desk next to him and then both hands were on his
backside. Kneading. Thumbs running deliciously close to the crease of his arse,
pulling him open as they dug into the muscle of his backside. Still hidden
under the cheap cotton of his underwear.
  This was insane, but as long as Snape didn’t say anything, as long as he
didn’t have to say anything… just like this. He wanted to know… and it wasn’t
like he would ever let Malfoy touch him like this.
  Snape slid one hand lower and cautiously cupped his balls, lightly moving
them, and then, when Harry didn’t stop him, playing with them more firmly,
exploring them. The thumb of his other hand slid closer and ran over Harry’s
arsehole.
  Harry let out a soft moan, opening his legs wider, arching his arse into
Snape, doing everything he could with his posture to encourage the man to keep
going.
  And then Snape did speak, and to Harry’s surprise it didn’t ruin anything. “I
have known men who found being beaten arousing,” his voice was soft velvet and
almost as good as his fingers. He had never noticed how sensual Snape’s voice
was before. “I do not think you are one of them. But even so the physical
reaction to extreme pain can heighten any pleasure that follows. The shock can
allow for a greater breadth of emotional response. An openness.” As he spoke
that final word his thumb pressed against Harry’s opening, almost but not quite
breaching it. “Even a vulnerability.” He squeezed Harry’s balls then reached
further to run fingers over the base of Harry’s very erect cock.
  Harry pressed his face into the desk.
  Snape removed that hand and reached around Harry, lifting the waistband of
his underwear up and over his cock, exposing it to the air. He let a finger run
over the head and Harry shivered and moaned again.
  As the waistband was pulled down over his arse Harry moved his legs in to let
the item fall to the floor and with only a modicum of shame running through him
he stepped out of it and spread his legs even wider than before, exposing
himself to his teacher in a manner that made it clear he wanted more.
“I did not call you into my office for this, Harry,” Snape said in a
surprisingly gentle tone.
  Harry flushed red again in      embarrassment      but didn’t reply, just
maintained his position.
  Snape’s hand rested back on his right buttock, thumb smoothing over the skin.
  Harry knew he wanted to. Had known from the moment he had reacted to Harry’s
first push back by continuing to touch. Even if Snape refused now Harry would
not be ashamed at offering something that was clearly wanted.
  But Snape was obviously having an internal argument with himself, even as his
thumb continued to trace circles on Harry’s skin.
  Suddenly his hand was gone.
“Get out of here Potter, you’ll be late for dinner.” The tone was dismissive
but not harsh.
  He heard Snape step well away and knew that the moment had gone. He raised
himself quickly, letting his robes cover him, picked up his underwear and
stuffed it into his pocket and left with his head up and his stride neither
slow nor hurried, but without making eye contact.
  And he didn’t rush until the potions classroom door was shut behind him, at
which point he speed walked himself to the nearest bathroom and locked himself
in a cubicle to take hold of his aching prick and bring himself speedily to an
achingly good orgasm.
  Panting against the cubicle wall, he let himself recover enough to not be red
faced before replacing his underwear, washing his hands, and heading up to the
Great Hall for dinner.
  No need to think about what had just happened. What was it Snape had said…
Sometimes it was best not to ask questions.
***** The Quidditch Showers *****
But apparently questions were going to be asked, just not by him.
  Ron and the others had been deeply sympathetic over dinner, and Harry had
pretended to still be in quite a lot of pain, so as not to      give Snape’s
actions away to anyone     .
Still feeling distracted, and not as hungry as normal, he left the hall before
the rest of the Gryffindor boys, claiming he needed to lie down.
  But as he      was about to climb the stairs     , Draco Malfoy darted out of
the shadows and tugged him into a nearby corridor.
“   Are you all right… did Snape...” he trailed off.
“Did Snape what?” asked Harry, suddenly wondering if he was not the only one to
have taken advantage of Draco Malfoy’s unfortunate circumstances. “Has he… I
mean… with you?” He felt a strange mix of possessiveness and jealousy at the
thought, also a slight disappointment that Snape might have taken    Malfoy
up on what was offered, but had turned Harry away.
“He… helps me sometimes,” said    Malfoy      nervously. “I thought maybe he
might have helped you, when he had you stay behind.”
“Helps you like I helped you?” asked Harry, growing more put out.
“Like… what? I mean he helps me with the pain,”    Malfoy      said, confused.
“If that’s what you mean. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I thought…”
  Harry looked around, then pushed      Malfoy      further down the corridor
and into a storage cupboard. “Does he help you like this?” and he cupped
Malfoy      roughly through his robes, squeezing him.
Malfoy yelped. “What? No!”
Harry loosened his grip, but kept a hold, feeling for the shape of him, rubbing
him through the cloth. “He doesn’t touch you here?”
“No! Merlin’s arse, Potter. Why would you think that?”
  But despite his supposed horror at the suggestion, Malfoy was reacting to
Harry’s touch, his hands clutching Harry’s robes as he swayed in towards him,
his eyelids fluttering closed     .
  Harry took out his wand and made sure the cupboard door was locked before he
tugged Malfoy’s robes up to his waist so he could reach under them and take
hold of his cock again. He pushed Malfoy’s legs apart with his feet and Malfoy
let him, leaning back against the shelves and pushing his hips forward into
Harry’s grip. Harry stroked him until he was hard and his under     wear was
damp with arousal, rubbing over the head of his cock with the soft cotton of
his underpants. Harry pulled them down, much the same way as Snape had not so
very long ago, and Draco let them drop, much as Harry had. Harry took hold of
his balls and played with them, soft and hot in his hands, tugging at them to
make Malfoy moan.
“   Did you really      pull      me down a dark corridor to ask me about
Snape?” Harry whispered in his ear. “Or was this what you were really looking
for?”
But he kissed Malfoy before he had a chance to answer. Whatever the reason,
Harry was glad the stand off had been broken. Somehow, no matter how much he
wanted to, it had been slightly too terrifying to just turn up in Malfoy’s
bedroom again. There had been guilt at the side of him that had come out in
that darkened, green swathed space. But now, fresh from virtually throwing
himself at Professor Snape of all people, he felt he better understood the
appeal of letting someone take what they wanted. Even someone you might not
like very much, or perhaps especially someone you didn’t like very much. The
spice of feeling vulnerable, of allowing something entirely inappropriate from
someone more powerful than you.
And suddenly he realised, Malfoy thought Harry was more powerful than him…
perhaps he always had. It had never occurred to him that Malfoy might be
pushing at him because he felt weak, because he thought Harry could hurt him
more than he could hurt back. That Harry had actually always been in charge of
this relationship and had simply never realised it until now, never known how
to take advantage of it.
And even as he thought all of this he was pulling Malfoy flush against him and
exploring his bare backside with his hands, deepening the kiss until they were
as close as they could physically get to one another.
“I want to fuck you again,” Harry whispered in his ear. The tips of his
forefingers pressing into the soft flesh of Malfoy’s arsehole as his hands
spread his cheeks apart.
Malfoy panted against his neck and didn’t try and get away, which was all the
answer Harry needed. He thrust twice more, pressing his own clothed erection
into Malfoy’s groin, before pulling away and turning him to face the wall.
Malfoy braced himself and spread his legs further. Harry muttered a quick
lubrication charm and brought his fingers back between Malfoy’s cheeks, pushing
two in together. A storage closet was not the place to take your time. With the
frustration of this afternoon’s unexpected revelation still nagging him he was
quite desperate for something more satisfying than a quick wank in a bathroom.
He worked his fingers inside Malfoy, twisting and thrusting and pulling them
apart inside him. The resultant squelching noises, mixed with Malfoy’s ragged
breathing and occasional moans, sordidly arousing.
“Can’t resist your arse, Malfoy,” he teased, pushing a third finger inside.
“The way it grabs at my fingers. Like it can’t wait to have me inside it.” He
took one of Malfoy’s hands and brought it down to his prick, his trousers now
open. “Can you feel how hard I am for you.”
Malfoy’s slightly trembling fingers wrapped around his erection, stroking it
awkwardly, the angle making it difficult. All the same Harry thrust into his
warm, slightly sweaty palm, pushing the head of his cock against the firm heel
of his hand. He twisted his three fingers and pushed them as deep as he could,
making Malfoy groan and as he did he wondered what it would have felt like if
Snape had sunk one of his long, pale fingers inside Harry. Would Harry have
groaned like Malfoy and pushed back into his hand?
Harry’s cock twitched and smeared pre-come across Malfoy’s hand.
He withdrew his fingers, wishing he had light to see the way Malfoy’s arse
would gape after them as it had that first night. But his wand was in his
pocket and he was in a hurry. He smeared the remains of the lube down his shaft
and pressed forward, sliding his cock across Malfoy’s arse until it slid into
place and thrusting impatiently inside. Oh yes, that was it.
He threw his hips into a fast rhythm, moving deeper and deeper until he was all
the way in with his fourth thrust. His hands tight on Malfoy’s hips and the
other boy bending over and thrusting his hips up and back to meet him.
“Touch yourself,” Harry gasped. “Wank yourself off.”
He didn’t know if Malfoy obeyed or not, as he couldn’t see a damn thing. Next
time they had a bed to themselves he was going to make Malfoy wank while he
watched him. That would be a sight, he suspected. He wondered if Snape wanked,
he supposed he did. Didn’t all men? What would Snape’s cock look like?
And what should have put him off entirely, tipped him over the edge and he
spilled into Malfoy’s welcoming arse, holding himself hard against the other
boy, making only tiny thrusts and then falling still, buried as deep as he
could get, as he heard the other boy gasp and keen his own release onto the
wall a few moments later, clenching almost painfully around Harry’s slightly
softening prick.
Five minutes later they were out in the hall, looking only slightly flushed and
walking away from each other as if neither had even noticed the other.
–
Harry found the next few weeks tortuous. He and Malfoy were now meeting up
secretly to fuck every few days, but it wasn’t Malfoy that was driving him
crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about his almost encounter with Professor
Snape. Every time he fucked Malfoy, he wondered how good it would feel to be
fucked himself. And there was no way in hell he was letting Malfoy be the one
to do that, and the other boy seemed happy with things the way they were. They
mostly ignored each other in public, occasionally trading the odd insult, and
in private Harry called all the shots and Malfoy let him.
Professor Snape was also treating Harry exactly the same way he always had,
with a spiteful disdain. But every time he looked at Harry it felt different,
even if he was the only one feeling it. Snape’s voice had taken on a new tenor
of sexual promise in Harry’s mind and he spent most of Potions painfully erect
and desperately hopeful that something, anything, would happen to give him
another shot. He’d purposefully made mistakes in order to be given the cane
just for some sort of contact, but as usual Snape’s punishments were short and
now always only on the hand. He’d give almost anything at this stage just to be
asked to bend over in the man’s presence. But he hadn’t yet gone so far as to
incite another caning from the Headmaster. While it would probably be his best
chance of getting Snape’s hand on his arse again he was not yet willing to go
to such lengths.
In the end it was an entirely unexpected avenue that led to his next real
encounter with Snape.
Dragging his heels in the Quidditch changing rooms, Harry was last out of the
shower. Entirely on purpose as he’d been in the mood for a good wank with no
interruptions.
He was well on his way, deep in a fantasy about again being bent over Professor
Snape’s desk, when something made him look around. Standing a few feet away,
watching him, with an obvious erection filling out his unnecessarily short
shorts, was Professor Gonrunin.
Harry froze, his hand still on his cock, not sure what to do.
“Better not stop there, Potter,” Professor Gonrunin said in a unusually intense
tone. “Give yourself blue balls.”
Harry let his hand drop away from his erection, feeling it start to flag.
To his horror Professor Gonrunin moved closer, moved right into the shower
cubicle, and took his limp hand and pressed it back onto his prick.
“Didn’t you hear me,” he hissed in Harry’s ear. “I said don’t stop there.”
And he began to move Harry’s unresponsive hand up and down, pressing it firmly
with his own fingers, his other hand taking hold of Harry’s hip and the older
man’s erection rubbing against his bottom.
Harry felt weirdly dizzy as he stared dumbly down at the man’s hand forcing his
fingers to pump up and down, up and down. His traitorous cock starting to fill
back up from where it had descended.
“That’s it,” said his teacher hoarsely. “Don’t you have a lovely prick. Lovely
arse too, Potter.” And the hand on his hip ran over the cheek of his arse and
squeezed it.
Then he was being crowded forward against the wall as his teacher pushed
against him, manoeuvring them until his wet, cloth covered erection was pressed
right between the cheeks of Harry’s arse.
“Best make one thing clear right now, Potter,” Chad muttered in his ear. “The
Headmaster doesn’t give a shit what I do with you, so don’t think you can go
running to him with any stories.”
The other man was starting to pant. He could feel the head of his cock pressing
in, thrusting against Harry’s arsehole, the cloth rough against the sensitive
skin.
“So you just take it like the little poof you are, and you won’t find yourself
in any trouble. Got it?”
Harry’s hand had fallen away to hang limply at his side and it was only
Professor Gonrunin’s fingers on his cock now.
The man pulled away from Harry far enough to unbutton his shorts and Harry took
the opportunity without even thinking. He spun and kicked the man as hard as he
could in the crotch, then grabbed the nearest set of robes, threw them over his
head, and ran for it in bare feet across the frozen grass outside.
He ran without thinking to the only adult who seemed willing to help, the only
person he’d seen go against the new rule of the school, he ran to Professor
Snape’s office.
“Come in,” said Professor Snape’s low, dry voice in response to his knock.
Harry pushed the door open and nearly fell inside, freezing from his panicked
dash across the school grounds, still wet from the shower.
“Potter?” Snape rose from his desk, his face a mix of confusion, irritation and
concern. “Where are your shoes?”
Harry panted and shivered, leaning against the closed door. “Left them in the
locker room,” he finally managed to say.
Snape frowned at him. “Sit down,” he said finally.
Harry limped over to the chair in front of Snape’s desk and fell into it,
pulling one foot up to rub it where he had trod on a sharp stone in his dash.
“What was so urgent that you forewent shoes in order to discuss it with me?”
Harry looked at his foot, feeling awkward. He felt like he had over-reacted a
bit. Well not completely, but perhaps just saying no firmly might have been a
better plan than kicking a teacher in the crotch and running away. But he’d
been unable to think things through, he had just frozen and then acted on
instinct.
“I… I kicked Professor Gonrunin in the, um… bits, sir,” he answered finally.
“You did what?” Snape sounded startled.
“I… he… I was in the showers after Quidditch practice… and he… “ This was
ridiculous, why was he finding it so hard to say, when only a couple of weeks
ago he had wriggled his bare arse in Snape’s face in the hopes of getting
exactly what Gonrunin had been offering.
“I see,” said Snape unexpectedly. “There is no need to continue. You are a
little old for Chad,” he said the name with a deep distaste. “But I suppose if
the opportunity presented itself.”
Harry looked up at him, surprised, and then with dawning comprehension. “But
surely the school...” he trailed off, he wasn’t entirely sure what the schools
position on anything was anymore. “But Professor McGonagall...”
“Would gut him like a rabbit should she find out, and then she would lose her
job and be replaced with someone more in line with the Headmasters - and
therefore the Dark Lords – views. And likely be sent to Azkaban for her
troubles.” Snape answered abruptly. “The Headmaster does not approve, but also
does not especially care as long as he is not inconvenienced. Chad seriously
overstepped his bounds when he laid hands on you, he really ought to have known
better.”
“Do you think he’ll tell the Headmaster what I did to him?” Harry asked,
feeling a bit calmer, and now more concerned about possible punishment for
assaulting a teacher.
“Stay here, I presume you left more than your shoes in the changing rooms?”
Harry nodded. “I’m not even sure if this is my robe,” he admitted. “I can’t see
a thing without my glasses.”
“I will be back shortly.”
The door closed and Harry was left alone in Snape’s office. After several long,
cold minutes he got up and began to peer around, trying to keep warm by moving.
There was no fireplace in here, but there was a door behind the desk which he
presumed led to Snape’s private quarters. He purposefully didn’t try it, but
ten minutes later he was cold enough to say fuck it and pushed the door
cautiously. It creaked open revealing a similar sized room containing a sofa,
and more importantly a lit fire.
With no wand to dry his hair, or even cast a basic warming charm, Harry decided
that necessity trumped permission, especially as he had no idea how much longer
Snape was likely to be. He knelt down carefully in front of the fire, as close
as he could get without actually setting himself alight.
By the time Snape arrived back half an hour later, Harry was fast asleep on the
sofa. He was roused by a sharp voice, “What do you think you are doing in here,
Potter?”
He blinked his eyes in confusion and something was tossed at him. Grabbing for
it he realised it was his glasses. He put them on his face and looked up at
Snape, who looked a moderate level of furious, so not very different from usual
then.
“Sorry, I was freezing, I mean really freezing. There’s no fire in your office
and...”
“You didn’t have your wand, because you left it in the changing rooms. Of all
people, Potter, I would think you would understand the importance of never
leaving your wand behind no matter how dire the circumstances.”
Harry was relieved to see that Snape was drawing his wand out of a pocket even
as he was telling him off. “I’ll try and remember that for next time,” he said
only a little sarcastically.
“There will be no next time, I have made that quite clear to Professor
Gonrunin. Neither will he be speaking to the Headmaster about any unfortunate
consequences of his misplaced attentions.”
Harry stood up, “Thank you.”
Snape thrust his wand into his outstretched hand. “Now I suggest you take the
rest of your possessions from the floor of my office and get back to your
dormitory before it reaches curfew.”
Harry felt a deep sense of relief to feel the warm wood of his wand back in his
hand. Just as when he was at Privet Drive and it was locked away, he was always
deeply aware of its absence.
Part of him did want to get back to Gryffindor Tower and the safety of his bed,
but another part didn’t want to leave with things so… formal. Oddly enough his
encounter with Professor Gonrunin hadn’t changed his desires, only confirmed
for him that this wasn’t some random interest in getting buggered by an
authority figure. He was genuinely attracted to the idea of sex with Snape. For
reasons that were as much a mystery to him as the next boy, but there they
were. And while he didn’t especially want to do anything this evening, after
everything that had happened, he also didn’t want to leave without some
acknowledgement that there was more here than a Professor and a student. That
there was the possibility of something more personal, more intimate.
He stepped a little closer to Snape, though not so close as to cause the other
man to pull back. “I am sorry I invaded your private space without permission,”
he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have if I could have thought of a better option.”
Snape studied him. “I should have seen to you more carefully before I left,” he
admitted unexpectedly. “I am not used to...” he paused.
“To what?”
Snape shook his head. “If I had wanted to be the school nurse then I would not
have applied to be a teacher,” he responded dryly.
“I guess we’re all finding ourselves in unexpected roles this year,” Harry
replied with a half smile.
Snape looked at him oddly but did not reply.
Unable to think of anything he could do that would not seem oddly misplaced,
Harry gave another half smile, said, “Thank you, again.” and left.
–
The next time Harry had Potions he waited until class was nearly over and then
purposefully dropped and smashed a glass vial as he was passing Snape’s desk.
They exchanged looks, and with his back to the class Harry raised his eyebrows
and did the best he could to indicate he wanted to talk to Snape.
Snape sighed and said, “Remain after class, Potter, you can clean that up by
hand as we discuss your clumsiness.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, doing a little victory dance inside even as he turned
to the rest of class with a mournful expression.
Hermione looked at him suspiciously, she knew he wasn’t particularly clumsy by
nature.
“The rest of you may leave, I assume you will all be eager to get started on
your essays.”
The rest of the class trooped out as Harry made a show of fetching a cloth from
the sink.
As the door closed, Snape pointed his wand and the glass vial reassembled
itself and disappeared into a cupboard. The spilt potion vanished. “Give me one
good reason why I shouldn’t cane you for infringing on my personal time,
Potter.”
“Um,” said Harry, un-needed cloth held limply in his hand. “I suppose I don’t
really have one.” Taking his courage in both hands he turned slowly to the desk
and bent well over it, arching his back to stick his bum well up. “Do you want
me like this, sir?”
“Merlin’s Mother, Potter,” Snape sighed. “Have you finally lost what little
sense you were given?”
Harry stood up. “Or perhaps you meant...” he said, starting to draw up his
robes.
Snape put a hand over his, “Stop right there.”
They stood staring at each other for a moment, Snape’s hand cool and dry over
his own somewhat warm and sweaty one.
Snape finally stepped away, flicked his eyes once at the classroom door, then
calmly said. “Follow me, Potter.”
***** Consummation *****
He strode towards his office and Harry followed him through the door, which
Snape locked behind him. Snape sat down at his desk.
“What exactly has gotten into you, Potter. You cannot possibly want what you
appear to want.”
“Can’t I?” said Harry.
“No,” said Snape coldly. “You cannot have half an idea of what it is you want,
you idiot child.”
“I’m not a child!” said Harry.
“Exactly what children always say, when accused of being so.”
“I know what I want, and if you think I’ve never had sex before then you’re the
one who’s mistaken, sir,” said Harry.
Snape eyed him. “And just who have you been having sex with, Potter.”
Harry paused. “That’s my business, all you need to know is that I’m far from
inexperienced, and I know exactly what it is I’m asking for.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Really.”
The way he said that one word had Harry practically salivating. “Really,” Harry
replied firmly.
Snape stood up slowly. “Well then, perhaps you should lift your robe and place
yourself over my desk, Potter.” His eyes were inscrutable.
Harry swallowed nervously, but did as he was told. Pulling his robes up past
his waist and bending over the heavy wooden desk, legs slightly apart. He had
worn his best pair of underpants, just in case. But he didn’t lower them, he
just waited, cheek pressed to the desk.
“Hold onto the opposite side of the desk,” Snape commanded, and as Harry obeyed
he felt the man place one hand on the top of Harry’s arse. “You know exactly
what you’re asking for,” Snape repeated.
“Y...yes,” stuttered Harry, cursing his traitorous tongue for giving away his
nerves.
Snape was stroking the cotton of his underpants, exploring the shape of his
bottom thoroughly. Two fingers ran along the crack from top to bottom, curving
under to find Harry’s balls and massaging them lightly through the fabric.
Then Snape hooked both hands into the waistband of Harry’s underpants and drew
them slowly down over the globes of Harry’s arse, until they stretched between
his thighs.
Harry felt like he had never been harder in his life, this was really going to
happen. He tried to keep breathing steadily, but his heart was already racing
and his mouth was dry.
Suddenly Snape grabbed him by the hips, stepped to the side and landed his palm
hard and flat on the centre of Harry’s bottom with a loud slap.
Harry yelped in surprise.
Holding Harry firmly down onto the desk, Snape proceeded to give Harry the most
vicious spanking he had ever felt. Harry was crying out in shock as much as
pain at first, but shock gave way to embarrassment, and then just to pain. He
hadn’t been spanked since he was nine years old, and never like this. Within
minutes there were tears on Harry’s cheeks as the pain grew more and more
intense and his shouts more and more shrill.
“Know what you’re asking, do you,” gasped Snape from above him. Landing his
hard hand over and over on the delicate skin of the top of Harry’s thighs and
the bottom curve of his buttocks. “Far from inexperienced, are we?”
Harry had nothing in him to reply with, all he could do was howl at the sheer,
stinging, hot agony that kept building and building.
Suddenly Snape stopped, his hand flat on Harry’s bottom after one last hard
swat.
In the silence Harry was further humiliated at the sounds of his own crying,
but he couldn’t seem to stop just yet. Although the pain had overall been less
than a caning on bare skin it had been more prolonged and wide ranging. Rather
than a few raw stripes, his whole bottom burned and stung, and he could only
imagine that it was bright red all over. And on top of that it was just more
humiliating, you took a caning like a man, you got spanked like a naughty
child. And a child was the last thing he had wanted to appear.
He could hear Snape panting with exertion.
But his hand was still on Harry’s bottom. Now starting to move again, the way
it had before. Exploring, stroking, caressing.
Harry’s underwear had long since fallen to the floor, and Snape stroked up his
spine, pushing his robe half way up his back, and then stroked back down to run
his fingertips a hairs breadth past Harry’s arsehole and again down to brush
lightly against his balls before they moved back up to cup the cheeks of his
bottom one at a time.
Harry’s began to get his breath back. What was Snape doing?
His skin was hot and over-sensitive, every touch to the places he had been
spanked lightly tortuous. Every touch elsewhere strangely compelling.
Snape moved to sit on the desk next to Harry, then unexpectedly slid his hand
under Harry’s hips and lifted him over his lap. Harry’s legs dangled now, his
rump raised even higher. An awkward and further humiliating position, and yet
much more physically intimate than before.
“Like this, would have been better,” Snape said softly. “But then punishment
was the purpose. How dare you come into my classroom, asking to be fucked,
Potter? Only you could have such utter cheek.”
But his voice was not accusatory and he hadn’t stopped touching Harry, and from
his new position Harry was suddenly aware that Snape was at least half way
erect against his hip. Those fingers brushed closer to his arsehole.
“Who have you been letting in here, Potter?”
“N… no-one,” admitted Harry, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I… I always… um…”
“Do the fucking?” Snape finished for him. “Another student. Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“The same age as you?”
“Yes.”
“And how long has this been going on?”
Snape had one fingertip pressed firmly against Harry’s opening, a moment away
from breaching him. Harry felt light headed and oddly floaty. His erection had
come back in full force and he knew Snape must be very aware of it against his
thigh.
“A few weeks,” he managed to reply.
“I see.”
And the finger pressed just that tiny bit harder and slid inside him. Just the
tip. There was a slight movement, and a whispered lubrication charm, and then
the finger was pressing deeper, moving smoothly and inexorably inside him. So
different from the feel of doing it himself, so strange in contrast to all the
other sensations buzzing around his body.
Harry moaned as the finger pressed as deep as it could reach, Snape’s other
fingers pressing into the sore, red flesh of his buttocks.
“Why haven’t you asked this boy to fuck you, if you want it so much?” Snape
asked conversationally, as he twisted his finger inside Harry, drawing it back
and pushing it in again with a slick slide.
“No,” said Harry. “Not him.”
Snape drew his finger nearly all the way out and then pressed back in with two.
Pressing in hard up to the second knuckle before pausing.
Harry groaned and gasped, pushing his hips forward then back as best he could,
unable to properly control his movements when his feet couldn’t reach the
floor.
“Lay still, Potter.”
Snape pushed in again, pressing both fingers in up to the hilt, then drawing
them out even as he twisted them and pulled them apart.
Harry moaned with the pleasure of it.
“Like that do you, Potter?”
“Yes,” Harry sighed.
“Like having my fingers inside you, or like being bent over my knee and
exposed?”
“Both. I like both.”
“Both, sir.” Snape drove three fingers into him, hard and fast, until he
squealed with the burn. Snape held him there his fingers still, until he
relaxed. Then began to fuck him slowly with all three fingers.
“You want me to take you like this, Potter? Bent over so you don’t have to see
who’s fucking you?”
Harry took a moment to answer, taken up with the building pleasure and hazy
warmth he was feeling. “However you want, sir.”
Snape continued to work him open, silently, only the sounds of being
penetrated, of heavy breathing and the slick slide and slurp of the lubricant.
“Very well, then.”
The fingers were withdrawn, leaving him feeling odd. But before he could
process it he was being rolled off Snape’s knee and onto his back on the desk.
“Pull your legs up, arms under your knees.”
Harry did as he was told as Snape tugged him into a better position by the
hips. He could feel the edge of the desk running under his buttocks. Snape
stepped away, looking him over.
“More. Display yourself for me, Potter. Show me you want it.”
Harry got his elbows under the crooks of his knees and hauled his legs up and
out. Pulling his arse up and spreading himself open on the desk. “I want it,”
he gasped. “Surely you can’t still doubt that?”
“No, I suppose not,” said Snape, exploring Harry with his eyes. With a snap of
his wand Harry’s robe and vest, shoes and socks, vanished entirely, leaving him
naked. “Better.”
Harry tried not to squirm, his cock twitching with his heart beat, thrusting
awkwardly into the air between his legs. He did not feel experienced, lying
here on his back like some sort of specimen for study. The heat running through
him, making him sweat, contrasted with the chill in the room and made him feel
slightly ill. Snape’s face was as unreadable as it ever was, his eyes dark.
Harry thought he saw lust, desire… but in truth he couldn’t read the man.
Didn’t understand the man. Didn’t care, he still wanted this. He had to have
it, he couldn’t come this far and leave unsatisfied. It would be too
humiliating. It was too humiliating, he still wasn’t sure Snape was actually
going to see it through. Wasn’t sure this wasn’t just some elongated
punishment, that the man might curtly order him out of the room at any moment,
eyes glinting with a dark amusement.
Snape watched him, with terrifying patience.
Harry’s insides squeezed in a strange pleasurable terror. He could feel his
face flush bright red, but he stared Snape down.
With a sudden glimmer of unidentifiable emotion, Snape unfastened the row of
buttons that ran down his front with a stroke of his wand. Beneath his
intimidating robes he wore an old fashioned, somewhat crumpled white shirt,
that hung to the top of his thighs. With the heavy fabric of his outer layer
gone, the front of his shirt was noticeably tented over his groin. Harry’s eyes
dropped to that level automatically, only just visible past his own body.
Snape finally touched him again, one hand coming to rest on the inside of his
thigh. Almost hesitant before it firmed around the warm flesh. His other hand
cupping his own clothed erection, he moved the hand on Harry’s thigh to curve
around his aching prick and Harry gasped in relief at the sensation.
Distracted by the hand teasing him, the thumb pressing into his slit and
spreading moisture over the head of his cock, Harry didn’t realise Snape was
doing anything else until he felt an unfamiliar press against the hole still
slick from Snape’s fingers. Harry’s eyes shot open and found Snape again. An
eyebrow arched in question.
“Yes,” Harry gasped.
And that was all it took, as Snape bore down on Harry with the weight of his
body behind the thick cock that was slowly forcing him further open than he had
ever been.
–
Harry didn’t make it to dinner, he just didn’t think he could handle it –
neither the physical act of sitting on a hard wooden bench, nor the surreal
concept of talking and eating with the other Gryffindor boys as if he hadn’t
just been fucked in the ass by their Potions teacher. Not with Snape sitting at
the teachers table, watching him. He went red just thinking about it. He went
straight up to Gryffindor Tower and lay down on his bed.
He had done it. He had actually done it. With Severus fucking Snape. And it had
been everything he might have hoped for, and a whole lot more he hadn’t even
known to consider.
His trysts with Malfoy suddenly seemed childish, both of them eager and rarely
lasting long, fumbling and torn between nervous and overexcited. He was certain
he had never made Malfoy feel what he had just felt, by the time Snape had
finally let him come Harry had been a babbling, pleading, mess.
He’d ridden on that edge of orgasm for what had felt like hours, Snape’s magic
tightening around the base of his cock every time he thought he might reach it,
as Snape fucked Harry slowly and deeply, then hard and fast, then just with the
tip of his cock, then thrust all the way in and held himself buried there while
he pinched and twisted Harry’s nipples until tears threatened, or played with
the end of his weeping cock until Harry begged him to move, to fuck him hard,
to please, please, please, let him come.
And when he finally had, Merlin, Harry had never felt an orgasm like it. He’d
been so out of it he’d barely been aware of Snape finally coming inside Harry
only a few minutes later. He’d lain flat out on Snape’s desk staring at the
stars on the inside of his eyelids until Snape had brought him round with a
sharp ‘Tergeo’. Snape had already been fully dressed and inscrutable again.
“Tidy yourself up, Potter,” Snape had said, though not as sharply as he once
might have. “It’s nearly dinner time.”
He had been in Snape’s office since the end of class, nearly an hour and a half
ago.
Snape somehow materialised by his side to support him when he nearly fell over
as soon as he tried to stand up. His legs had been shaking and partly numb from
where the edge of the desk had cut into him where he had let them dangle, and
his head had turned dizzy at his overly quick attempt at being vertical.
But there had been no sentimentality, no discussion of what had happened, no
arrangements for it to happen again, or protestations that it wouldn’t. Harry
had dressed carefully, drunk a proffered glass of water, and limped out of the
dungeons and up the many many flights of stairs to his bed.
Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he fell asleep, his body pleasurably
exhausted and uncaring of his mind’s bewilderment.
–
Severus arrived back in his office after an interminable dinner in the Great
Hall. Just now, of all moments, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to be inside
his own head. Not kowtowing to Lucius Malfoy’s little puppet dictatorship.
Potter hadn’t been present. He wasn’t surprised, nor was he worried. Potter had
proven himself to be resilient if nothing else.
He locked and warded the door to his chambers and finally relaxed into the
chair by the fire, summoning a bottle of goblin aged port and a glass.
Potter.
He pondered the idea of feeling shame or guilt, summoned up Lily’s form and
expression. But all that came was fifteen year old James Potter, hair wild and
eyes sparking with shock and disgust.
‘Are you crazy? I’d never! Never!’
Severus smiled to himself. “Never is such a very long time,” he said to
himself.
Harry was not his Father, he was better. He was a slap in the face of his oh-so
straight Father and his idiot of a Godfather. Even, as much as he had cared for
her, his very best friend, a slap in the face of the woman who had broken his
heart by claiming the man he had wanted for so long. Even though he had
forgiven her for it. It did not change the fact that finally Severus had won.
And his prize had come to him all by himself and begged for it, all while
wearing James Potter’s face. Had broken so beautifully under his touch,
sounding just like his Father at that age.
It was almost worth all the shit it had taken to get to this moment. This night
was golden, and nothing could touch it.
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