Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/513442.
  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:
      Underage_Sex, Angst, Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Explicit_Language, Fluff,
      Anal_Sex, Fingerfucking, Cumshot, Hand_Jobs, Light_Bondage, Sex_Magic
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-16 Words: 2843
****** Necopi Blandeque Coruscant Sexus ******
by cadkitten
Summary
     Harry takes a certain pity on Draco for all the events that have
     transpired. He offers the other comfort in a way that he knows Draco
     will be bound to accept, despite it not being the most traditional
     way to comfort someone.
Notes
     for acidangel. I’d like to note that this is my first time writing in
     HP and I really hope it’s up to par and at least remotely in
     character. Inspiration from http://x-tar.deviantart.com/art/Draco-
     Harry-22620575
     Beta_Readers: Wendy
     Song[s]: "Crawl" by D=OUT
Harry’s POV
It’s the seventh of May in our third year. A lot has happened in such a short
span of time and I think it’s probably taken its toll on all of us just the
same. Even those of us who maybe everyone else thinks have no reason for what
they do. In that respect, while I find myself angry on the outside, I end up
almost pained on the inside with how some people are reacting to the situation.
Okay, maybe if I’m honest, it’s more a specific person, not just any old person
who catches me in this tangled web.
My eyes lift to stare across the room, watching the Slytherin table with rapt
fascination. Draco is nowhere to be found, but a group of his usual cohorts are
creating quite the stir, turning each other’s food into a wide variety of
rather objectionable objects. For once I’m more amused than appalled, thinking
that it’s something Ron and I could have been doing.
At long last, I’ve put the last bite of my food into my mouth and I stand up,
making some vague excuse to the other’s about needing to talk to Hagrid.
They’re all so engrossed in talking about the idiocy of a certain girl from
Ravenclaw that my words don’t even seem to register. All the better given that
they weren’t that great to start with and Hermione would have probably seen
through them in the blink of an eye.
I make my way out of the dining hall and head straight for Slytherin, knowing
it’ll be easy enough to get in with virtually no one there right now. It’s not
like anyone will be waiting on me, anyway. I don’t exactly make a habit out of
going into the other houses common rooms or dormitories. I find myself thankful
that I’m not trying to get into the girl’s side, thinking that they’d have an
absolute conniption if I were.
My feet make relatively no sound on the floor as I make my way up to the door,
going through the necessary steps to get it open. I’ve snuck around enough to
have watched the others get inside. Before I know it, I’m in the common area.
There’s one girl in the corner, obviously studying for something in the
desperate sort of manner that implies she has an exam tomorrow she hasn’t
studied for yet. She’s probably a first year.
I slip past her without her even looking up at me and find my way to the
dormitory stairs, listening to figure out which one is the girls’ and which is
the boys’. The sound of feminine laughter comes from one side and I choose the
other, quickly making my way to the top. I step into the area and quickly scan
the room. Only one bed is occupied and from the shock of blonde hair, I’m
certain it’s Draco. There’s only one person with such a vibrant natural color
to their hair.
Some part of me finds it odd that I’m not hesitating in the least to approach
him. I know full well he could turn on me, curse me if he so desired. But I’m
not even afraid of it, knowing what I’ll be offering him in just a moment. I
pause a few steps away and stare at his back, watching him breathe, certain
he’s not asleep from the irregularity of it. Finally, I clear my throat to get
his attention.
He rolls over and at first looks mildly grumpy, then utterly shocked, and
finally pissed off. I hold up my hands to show him I’m not here for a fight and
his hand eases back out from under his pillow, though his eyes are narrowed
suspiciously at me. “What do you want, Potter? And how the hell did you get in
here?”
“Easy enough,” I murmur, answering the easiest question first. After a few
calming breathes, I try the answer to the first one, testing if my tongue will
even let me say this. “I… have noticed that you seem… stressed.” Well that
wasn’t exactly as eloquent as I had planned it in my head. But then again, no
one has ever – in my entire life – told me that I am well spoken.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” At least he looks a little less peeved,
though slightly more confused.
I take another few steps forward, coming to stand right next to his bed,
looking down at him, thinking how this might feel or how it might hurt.
Absently, my hand reaches up to brush my hair back from my forehead a bit,
despite it not being in my way at all. “Everything, because I’m here to
alleviate that stress.” I debate giving him the ability to back out, but I
decide against it, knowing I need to show some strength in this given what I’m
offering.
The crease between his brows deepens and he huffs out a sound that is nothing
but annoyed. “English.”
I purse my lips and look away for a moment, considering my options on what to
say. After a moment, I look back and shrug a little. “There are some things
that get rid of stress better than others.” I level my gaze with his, giving
him a pointed look. “This option is only open right now, but I’m willing to let
you… de-stress with me.”
One elegant eyebrow arches and he snorts. “You’re offering to let me beat the
shit out of you?”
I roll my eyes, I can’t help it. He’s being so fucking dense and it does
nothing but amuse me. “I’m offering to let you fuck me.”
He looks shocked now and then a flash of anger. “You think I’m gay?!”
I close my eyes in an attempt to not give him the most knowing look on the
planet. “Some people protest too much, Draco. I’m not blind and this is your
one chance. God knows you have your vendettas to settle with me and some of it
is obviously born of sexual tension. Maybe we can be civil to one another if
you’ll just work it out.”
For a few moments I hear nothing and in the next, I hear the door slam shut
behind me, the lock flicking in place. I chance opening my eyes and he’s
standing beside me, wand pointed at the door. For the first time since I’ve
entered the room, I notice he’s not wearing anything but his underwear.
“You queer, Potter?” There’s a lack of malice in his voice that tells me so
many things about him.
“Not queer, just a little crooked.”
He manages a laugh at that, the sound of it odd to my ears. He’s never laughed
around me without it being full of ill intent. I find I actually like the way
it echoes in the room and enjoy the slight light it brings to his face.
“Anything I want?”
“Within reason. No curses and no violence.”
He laughs and this time it’s the laugh I have always known. “I’m a heartless
bastard, but even I know certain things are dangerous in this situation.” He
leans in toward me, his breath tickling against my ear. “I hope you know I’ve
already put a spell on you. You’re right where I want you to be and you’ll
never remember this tomorrow.”
I find myself not really caring. Really, it’s more for him anyway, my concern
allowing me to offer this to him without issue. “I expected nothing less.”
“Then you’re learning something.” His hands are softer than I expected them to
be as he caresses my cheek. A flick of his wand and my clothing is lying in a
pile at the foot of his bed, all neatly folded as he steps closer to me.
“There’s not much time for this. You should have come before dinner.”
“Would have been too obvious.”
He shrugs slightly, his hand continuing down my chest and then around my torso
as he moves to circle around me. I feel like I’m on display in a museum or
something, but I also find that I don’t really care. The idea that he actually
wants to take even this long with me is starting to filter through my body,
arousing me ever so slightly.
He turns me and then pushes me down on his bed, hissing out a few words and
before I know it, my hands are bound behind my back and I’m on my hands and
knees. I suppose he’ll get more from it if he thinks I’m unwilling, maybe
that’s his thing. I can’t really blame him for it. To be fucking his proclaimed
enemy is quite possibly tip-top on the demeaning list for him. But when he
crawls up behind me, leaning up to slide his lips across my bare back, I can
feel his bare arousal already pressing against my crack, making it clear that
he wants me… or at least wants sex enough to do this with me. Though, honestly,
it has to be terribly frustrating, being attracted to only men, being a
teenager, and being trapped in a same sex dormitory day in and day out.
He slides his wand down my back, causing me to shiver and moves enough to press
the tip of it against my entrance. Another murmured word and I find myself
surprised as I become lubricated. The wand goes away and both of his hands
press up my sides and then drag back down, nails scratching enough to sting but
not cut through my skin too badly. Fingers press their way into me, stretching
me out and I know it’s a part of his spell. Vaguely I wonder how he’s mastered
such a thing when we’ve never been taught it at all. My mind fills in the
blanks, helpfully supplying that he probably learned for his own pleasure, able
to do such things without getting caught fingering himself. It’d just look
completely normal to anyone walking in on him and actually, the way the
invisible fingers work on me is quite exquisite.
I huff out a little moan and he slides one hand down around my hip and over to
my cock, grasping the already hardened flesh, pumping it a few times before he
lets go. The bed protests a little as he shifts and suddenly the fingers
disappear and his warm, hard length pushes into my body. My breath hitches as
he starts to move and I’m surprised there’s no pain at all. I have to admit I
figured he’d simply use me and give me the most pain possible all the way
through. But this is a pleasant surprise, finding that he’s more than willing
to make this a pleasurable experience for me as well as him.
His hands grasp my hips and the invisible helping set slide over my testicles
and up to my cock, teasing me in a way I suspect is completely pre-set. My
eyelids flutter closed as I realize this must be his own personalized spell,
the exact way he likes to pleasure himself when he’s alone. That gets me going
even more and when he starts thrusting into me, I find myself pushing back to
meet him, eager to get as much as I can and give just as much in return.
He leans down over me, the angle changing in how he’s thrusting. It’s maybe not
the best angle for that, but how can I expect him to know when hehasn’t been
with me before this? Everyone is at least a little different in that respect
and I know that well enough to not be bothered by it. The hand on my dick
slowly warms up, pumping me faster as it does, thumb teasing over the head
every third or fourth pump.
I let out a strangled cry into his pillow as he speeds up, the friction
unbearably pleasurable. Between the two things, I’m certain I’ll be the first
one to the end. He whispers my name in my ear, one hand leaving my hip to wrap
around my torso, holding me close to him as he thrusts into me. It’s intimate,
something I never expected from this encounter and I realize that deep inside,
he’s not the biggest asshole on the planet. He puts on a front the rest of us
have to see, that has to be believed, and inside he can be just as pleasant and
gentle as the rest of us.
His breathing becomes more and more erratic, his hips losing their rhythm, and
I know he’s close. I knew it couldn’t last forever and with that in mind, I
allow myself to let go. Less than sixty seconds later my orgasm hits me like a
ton of bricks. I cry out, maybe a bit too loudly, and buck back against him a
few times as I cum all over his bed sheets.
He grunts out something that vaguely sounds like my name before he shoves in
impossibly hard a few times. Before I know it, he’s pulled out and his warm cum
is splattering over the underside of my sac. A quiet moan leaves me and his
hand slips from my hip to my ass, squeezing one cheek firmly.
A few moments pass and he breathes out a quiet, “Thank you,” into my ear before
he stands up, retrieving his wand from the pile at the end of the bed. A few
words later and both of us are completely clean, the bed beneath me drying up
instantly. I think for a moment how vulgar and messy sex would be without magic
and a little smirk passes over my lips, disappearing a moment later. I wouldn’t
want to give him the wrong idea over something so stupid.
My hands are freed with another wave and I shift to sit on the side of the bed.
He tosses my clothing on the bed next to me and pulls his underpants back on,
studying me for a long moment. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone or I’ll
deny it so fast your head will spin.” It’s strange, there’s true threat in that
voice, but at the same time, the undertone is almost kind and maybe a little
caring.
I nod and quickly dress myself, standing up once my shoes are tied. “You don’t
need to worry about that. I’ve never had any intention of this being public
knowledge.”
“You realize this includes that Weasley brat, yes?” He sounds a little more
like his usual self.
“No one else will know unless you tell them.” I tug my shirt a little more back
into place, smoothing my hair back and then ruffling it a little.
He nods and climbs back into bed. “If anyone asks, tell them something stupid,
something only a sissy would do.”
I almost want to laugh. He’s almost back to his typical snot-ass self and
somehow the difference entertains me now. “Yeah, yeah… you’re sick and I
brought you food. You were feeling a bit like you might have a cold, but not
enough to go to the infirmary. And, of course, you threw it at me like the
asshole you obviously are.” My own little dig in how the words are spoken, with
the obviously assumption that he’s not at all an asshole and we both know it.
He nods and then pulls the covers up over his body again. “Go away, Potter.”
I make my way to the door and turn to look back at him one last time. He waves
his wand and the door unlatches and opens silently.
“Look angry,” he mumbles, almost an afterthought.
I put on my best pissed off face and stomp out into the hallway. “See if I ever
try to give a flying fuck again!” I slam the door shut and stomp down the
stairs, making an overall show of it. There’s a few more people in the common
area and they all give me the death glare, looking pissed off to see me in
their common area. One of them opens their mouth and I brandish my wand at
them. “Don’t you even think about it!” I pause and glower back up the stairs.
“Just starve then, you selfish prick!”
I hear something hit the door and inside I want to laugh, but outwardly, I just
do my best to rush through the room toward the door like I have a troll hot on
my heels. Someone else triggers the door to open it and I barge out, quickly
making my way through the place and back toward Gryffindor.
This is quite possibly the best I’ve felt in a long, long time. And even as I
go through the motions of getting ready for my bath, I know for certain that by
the time I wake up tomorrow morning, I won’t know a single thing of what has
transpired tonight. And somehow… that makes me a little sad.
The End
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