
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/239581.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Harry_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      Slash, Humor, Fluff, Misunderstanding, Teasing, First_Time, Alternate
      Canon, Awkward_Sexual_Situations
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-08-15 Words: 2413
****** Gryffindor Wins! ******
by SweetSorcery
Summary
     Draco finally has Harry Potter all worked out. Or should that be
     worked up? (Note: Harry and Draco are 16 in this.)
Notes
     Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling,
     Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros.
     Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-
     profit, non-infringement entertainment.
     Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
     Author's Notes: This was written in August 2007.
     (Please note that my explicit stories will be locked to registered
     users once they've been up for a bit.)
After spending the better part of six years attempting to sniff out every
single one of Harry Potter's weaknesses, Draco Malfoy never would have expected
to have his rival's defeat placed, quite literally, in his lap. But there it
was, along with the quickly cooling remnants of a half-finished fever salve,
dripping to the chair between his thighs. The salve would probably stain his
fine wool trousers forever, but it was worth it. His face nearly split with a
triumphant grin.
The Potions lesson had started out straightforward enough. Snape - sadist that
he was - had directed Potter to team up with Draco, sending him on his way with
a scowl and a warning that any potions mishap whatsoever would be entirely
blamed on him. As if there had been any doubt.
Draco didn’t care if there should be a mishap. He could have mixed the salve in
his sleep, and he knew that Snape was well aware of it. It was a perfect chance
to trip Potter up and lose Gryffindor some of those house points currently
putting them nearly level with Slytherin, and with only one more Quidditch
match to go! So of course, he spent the lesson attempting to distract, insult,
needle, anger and irritate Potter, and had even less success than usually. It
was very infuriating indeed.
Lady Luck finally smiled upon him out of the pudgy face of Vincent Crabbe,
which stuck out between Potter's shoulder and Draco's as he hissed to the
latter, "Hey, Draco. Did you ask that Ravenclaw out last night like you were
going to?"
Draco snorted when Potter jerked away from Crabbe's sugary breath and lack of
appreciation for personal space. "I certainly did, Vince. You know if there's
one thing I can't resist, it's green eyes."
There was a rude squirting noise just before armadillo bile shot in an arc
towards Draco's face, but as he had amazingly quick reflexes, it kept going
right past him, only to end up clinging to Pansy's heaving bosom. She shrieked,
and Draco laughed out loud. Potter, whose fist had fallen on the tube and thus
ejected the bile, jerked guiltily. Alas, in doing so, he knocked the back of
his hand against their cauldron and flung that at Draco also.
Perhaps Draco's reflexes weren't that brilliant after all. But at least the
slimy mixture was cool and non-corrosive, and actually kind of pleasant, even
through the wool at his groin. He stared at Potter, about to launch into a
stream of insults, when he found the blasted Gryffindor blinking at him like a
confused owl. Blinking at him out of wide, very green eyes above very pink
cheeks.
Draco closed his mouth, used his brain, and smirked. Vince didn't know it yet,
but he'd be finding a very large box of chocolates on his bed later that day.
Draco was still smirking when he leaned forward, amused to see the Gryffindor
arch away from him. "You know, Potter, I suddenly find myself looking at you in
a whole new light."
Potter's really rather fascinating green eyes narrowed. "I don't know what
you're on about, Malfoy."
Draco's smirk widened.
"Potter!" Snape came flying across the room. "What have you done now, you
imbecilic, irresponsible, idiotic, infuriating..."
Draco tuned him out in favour of watching Potter fumble with the remaining
ingredients, pushing them away with shaky hands, as if he wasn't trusting
himself with them. He watched and plotted, distracted only by Potter's inept
attempt to retrieve the upturned cauldron from Draco's lap without touching the
Slytherin. But Draco had scented blood and thrust his hips up ever so slightly,
just as Potter reached under the rim of the cauldron. He let out a husky "Ooh!
Careful with those fingers there," and cackled when Potter flushed bright red
and plucked the cauldron away hurriedly.
Gryffindor lost 50 points. Draco silently awarded himself 100.
* * *
Draco's next chance at non-existent but much craved points came during History
of Magic.
Most of the class was asleep. Granger was furiously making notes. And the
remaining students were staring through Binns, numb with boredom.
Draco was actually quite alert, observing Potter at his desk a few feet away.
He'd been observing him for various reasons for years, of course, but now he
was looking at him rather like a cobra might assess a tasty potential nibble,
hovering and dipping and sniffing out the best place to strike at its victim.
The most vulnerable spot to attack... Draco smirked. His eyes had fallen on
Potter's bent neck. The Gryffindor was attempting to make notes, and thanks to
his appalling posture, that area of soft skin between collar and hair was
completely exposed. Draco grinned, scribbled a short note on a piece of
parchment, then crumpled it up and tossed it over Potter's shoulder.
Potter started, considered the ball of parchment for a minute, then flattened
it out.
I want to nibble on the back of your neck until you're shivering all over.
Potter sat bolt upright, then frantically turned his head this way and that,
until he met Draco's eyes. When the Slytherin wriggled his brows at him, then
pushed his lips into a pout and blew a kiss towards him, Potter yelped.
The entire class woke up and stared at him while Binns continued to drone on,
oblivious. Harry blushed furiously and looked down at the parchment. It had
gone blank, much like his mind.
Draco awarded himself another 100 points.
* * *
It was almost a shame, Draco thought, that there were no lessons on the
weekend. Then again, there was a Quidditch match, which meant he'd still get
Potter, and thus another chance to thoroughly unsettle the Gryffindor. If he
played his cards right, he might even make Potter fall off his broom.
The match swung back and forth like a lazy pendulum, slowed down by the glaring
sunlight and heat-exhausted players. Slytherin and Gryffindor took turns in the
lead, and just like every single time the two teams faced each other, it would
all come down to the snitch. Really, Draco thought, while hovering a good 200
feet above the centre of the pitch, it would save a lot of time if they simply
had him playing Potter and be done with it. He didn't see why anyone else was
even involved.
Potter. Who was hovering a short distance away, squinting into the sun,
desperate to spot the snitch first.
Draco almost laughed out loud - why didn't the idiot cast a tinting charm on
his glasses? He raised his broom and flew towards Potter, slowing down when he
got close to him. He looked Potter up and down, grinning, and parked himself
right next to him with an elegant loop.
Potter's broom bucked like a wild horse as its flyer jumped. "Malfoy, what the
hell are you trying to do?" he hissed.
"You know, Harry," Draco slurred languidly. "It's very unfair."
"What?" Potter muttered, annoyed and suspicious that Malfoy should call him
Harry.
Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, looking his opponent up and down again, more
slowly this time, slowly undressing him with his eyes right there, above the
pitch, until Potter shifted awkwardly on his broom. "How is a man supposed to
concentrate on spotting a snitch, when there you are..." He reached out towards
Harry's broom, not quite touching it, delighted when Potter's eyes widened at
the sight of Draco's gloved hand trembling an inch above the shaft.
"When I'm... what?" Potter stammered, forcing his eyes back up to meet Draco's.
He was about to demand an explanation, when the Slytherin's next words and
actions floored him.
"Making me all hot and bothered, silly." Draco sighed, his hand finally closing
around Harry's broom handle. He groaned softly, as if the mere contact with
Harry's broom was throwing him into fits of ecstasy. "You can't imagine the
thoughts I have, seeing your thighs clenched around your broom like this,
quivering with the effort. You just can't imagine." His voice was husky, and he
gave Harry a long, intense look, before veering off and speeding away.
When Draco's hand closed around the snitch two minutes later, Harry was still
trying to right himself; Draco's departure had left him dangling upside down in
a rather undignified pose, wondering why he was harder than his bloody broom,
and why his glasses were suddenly tinted.
The game went to Slytherin, and 200 private points to Draco Malfoy.
* * *
Draco was, as always, the last one in the Quidditch showers. After all, proper
grooming and conditioning took longer than simply scraping off some sweat,
snorting some water, and rushing off half-dressed. If asked, he would have
guessed that Potter was the rushing off kind, so he was more than a little
shocked to find himself facing the Gryffindor just as he was about to vacate
the premises.
"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Potter hissed, smelling distractingly clean
and soapy.
Draco blinked. The thing with witty 'spur of the moment' comebacks was that he
quite liked to have them lined up and ready for suitable occasions. However, he
certainly hadn't expected Potter just then, so his mind was as vacant as a
Weasley.
"Well?" Potter was just about in his face, green eyes blazing with annoyance.
"You're either playing some sick game with me, or--" He smirked in a way that
shouldn't be allowed to anyone not bearing the surname Malfoy. "You want to
play games with me."
Draco blinked again, though Potter's next words made him wonder whether he
hadn't inadvertently fluttered his eyelashes.
"Yes, I thought so." Potter looked much too satisfied for there not to be a
horrific misunderstanding going on, so when he tossed Draco's things to one
side, gripped his waist with both hands, and his stupid, big green eyes came
suddenly really close, Draco yelped.
"Bloody tease," Potter all but purred, and then his stupid mouth was just about
swallowing Draco's, hands pulling the slim form forward hard as he started
chewing on Draco's lips.
"Wha--? Mmm... no! Pottmph!!" Draco's world upended itself and crushed his
head, leaving him dizzy and disoriented and with no choice but to cling to
Potter's... When had the be-speckled git acquired those shoulders?
"Shut up," Potter said, but it sounded like an endearment. "You blasted,
irritating distraction." With that, he forced his mouth on Draco's again,
marginally more gently, and when Draco's lips relaxed against his to minimise
the damage, he pressed his advantage and slipped his tongue into the moist pink
space.
A groan travelled all the way up Draco's body and finally forced itself out of
his mouth and into Potter's. "Was only... mmm..." Draco reached into thick
strands of hair, gasping the occasional breath in and word out. "Taking... the
piss."
Harry managed a snicker between kisses. "Another time, maybe."
Draco squeaked. But his squeak morphed into a pitiful mewl when Harry's hand
was suddenly on the tented front of his trousers, squeezing. Hard. And Draco
decided he liked it hard, and started pushing the other boy's T-Shirt up and
over his head, not caring when Potter squawked indignantly a moment before the
shirt, as well as his torn off glasses, hit the floor behind them.
"You nearly took my nose off, you git," Potter growled, but not entirely with
annoyance. "Do that again!" Draco bit at his exposed neck for a second time,
and Potter made more interesting noises. "Mmm, yes. That." A moment later,
"Figures you'd be a vampire."
Draco heard himself giggling like a fool, but refused to care. "Are you going
to do something else with that hand?" he demanded.
"Like this?" Potter asked, then laughed when Draco's head fell against the wall
behind and his eyes rolled up and out of sight. Not having bothered with
buttons and zips, he'd simply shoved his hand behind Draco's waistband and now
had it wrapped around the still shower-damp cock, pulling at it from an awkward
angle.
"Don’t break it off," Draco whined, but actually covered Harry's hand from
outside his trousers and pushed it down even harder. "Shit, this hurts."
"Then take the damn things off," Harry ordered. He stood back and pointed his
wand at Draco's midsection. "Before I do it this way."
"No!" Draco glared at him, which failed to look intimidating considering he was
flushed pink and his hair stood up in all directions. He quickly undid his
trousers and pushed them, and his underwear, down over his hips. Then he
whimpered at the look on Potter's face, his eyes widening when Potter followed
suit, exposing his own cock while not taking his eyes off Draco's. "Shit,
you're hot." Draco bit his lip, but the words were already gone.
Potter snickered. "You're not bad yourself. Come here."
In a last ditch effort at making things difficult, Draco pouted. "No, you come
here."
Potter shrugged, and was back on Draco in a moment, his mouth crushing Draco's
and his hands on Draco's hips.
Their cocks bumped painfully, but after a bit of shifting and hissing, they
were finally sliding against each other - both of them dribbling wetness which
Harry used to wrap his hand around them both and start jerking.
Draco groaned, his right hand joining Harry's while the left clutched at
Harry's hair. He leaned his forehead against the famous scar and looked down
between them. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck!"
"Getting ahead of things again," Harry panted. He tightened his hand, which was
by then slippery and damp enough to make an obscene squishing noise around
their cocks. He chuckled, but then he groaned, and his left hand was tightening
on Draco's hip, and he was coming all over his hand and Draco's twitching cock
and the inside of Draco's dropped pants on the floor.
Draco whimpered quietly, and then his mouth fell open and he was gasping, his
hand stopped working, and he just held it under their spurting cocks and
watched it get covered in spunk.
"God, Draco!" Harry moaned, tilting his face and catching Draco's mouth in
another kiss while he was still coming down from his high. He barely felt Draco
smearing come on his stomach and around his side as the other boy wrapped his
arm around his waist, pulling himself against him. It was wet and squishy and
completely perfect.
"Gryffindor wins!" Draco whispered, to Harry's confusion and amusement. At this
rate, Draco thought, he would never, ever beat Potter at anything. Amazingly,
he found he didn't care anymore.
 
THE END
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