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draca
I hope you have fun with this, Amanda, seriously. :P
(Okay. This story originally came into mind directly after I saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Felton had to be like, the hottest thirteen year old ever. All pale and sleek and mean. And I felt like a totally disgusting pervert. But anyway, sometimes I have these absolutely ridiculous ideas—things like, oh, what if Harry teaches Draco about the wonders of Cheese Whiz, or Hey, what if Draco was an absolute dumbass who accidentally made a spell that made him lickable?
Often, these ideas don't see the light, and I occasionally poke them in amusement. Or get pissed off because, omg, I had that idea first, you person who has so little shame that you actually posted what you'd thought of! Draco being lickable, however? It stayed. And haunted me. And has been the bane of my existence ever since I put pen to paper.)
Draco Malfoy was sitting in the Slytherin common room, articulating eloquently about the injustice of being subjected to Harry Potter and his friends. "I simply don't understand," he was saying for the 19th time, "how the Headmaster can so blithely ignore Potter's blatant disregard of the rules; Potter's such a teacher's pet-except for Professor Snape, of course. At least Snape treats Potty like the piece of dirt he is-still, he's such a perfect Quidditch star, he's so bloody brave, if you can call complete and utter luck anything less than stupidity--"
(I love it when Draco rants about Harry Potter. I want to squish him. Here, I was trying to make him just annoying enough so that you can understand how everyone feels, but also vulnerable and young enough that it becomes a little endearing.)
"Draco!" Crabbe interrupted.
"-and of course I don't. If my father had any say in it at all, honestly--"
"Draco!" Goyle tapped Draco's shoulder.
"-Hogwarts would be a complete haven for purebloods. Mudbloods should be exterminated."
"Will you shut up?!"
Crabbe and Goyle bellowed, and a hush fell over the common room as Crabbe and Goyle stormed out, Draco blinking at their backs.
(I'm also fond of when Crabbe and Goyle get fed up with Draco. It never, ever, ever happens, but come on. Even they have to get tired of hearing it eventually, right?)
"Where are they going?" Draco sulked, and Pansy came over to him, looking serious as she touched his shoulder.
"Do you really want to know the truth, Draco?"
"What is it, Parkinson?" Draco asked, favoring her with a death glare as his curiosity reared a head that he mused looked surprisingly like Dobby the House Elf in a Frank-N-Furter costume.
(Obviously, I was under the influence of hardcore crack. I never write like this. Did I think it was funny? Terrible, terrible simile. Ugh.)
"Well, Draco, I'd hate to be the one to break this to you, but no one likes you."
"What the hell are you talking about? Everyone likes me!"
(Oh, this Draco is really so deluded. I just thought it would be funny if everyone really did hate him, except for the one person he considers to be his arch enemy. I'm contrary like that.)
"Everybody hates you, Draco. For crying out loud, we're secretly rooting for Potter every time we play! We all hate your guts."
"Why are you always hanging around me if you don't like me, then?" Draco demanded sourly, pulling away from Pansy and slouching against the couch.
"We like your money, Draco," Millicent assured him easily, patting his shoulder.
"And your father!" Blaise added.
(Blaise is a girl here because, a) we didn't have the information that he was a boy, even though I'd consistently written him as one before hand, and b) because I was lazy. Lazy, lazy, lazy, and I'd completely forgotten that Daphne Greengrass existed. I wanted Draco to have a chorus of fangirls, because as much as I love fandom, we're all morons. ♥
Really, though, at this point, every time you see the name 'Blaise', you can think 'Daphne'.)
Pansy sighed dramatically. "Oh, Lucius, you pettable man!"
Draco gaped in horror as the Slytherin girls burst into giggles. "I'd take Lucius' Mark over You-Know-Who's any day," Millicent sighed dreamily.
"Narcissa is the luckiest woman alive! She gets to play with all that hair at night!" Blaise giggled.
(I put that in there because even though the hair was a wig, Jason Isaacs looked really, really awesome as a blonde. And it was so long and pretty and guh.)
"May I remind you," Draco interrupted as his pale skin began to take on a green tinge, "that you're talking about my father here?"
"Shut up and look cute for a minute, Draco!" Pansy demanded, and Draco was so surprised his mouth shut with an audible snap. Pansy's eyes half-closed as a contented little smile formed on her lips. "Oh, the best fantasy ever..."
"What is it?" the other girls shrieked, looking curiously at their friend as Draco tried to discretely edge off of the couch and towards the door.
"Lucius...and Draco..." Draco froze as three pairs of eyes stared at him, and jumped as Millicent and Blaise squealed happily.
"I don't know why we didn't see it before!" Millicent cried.
"Draco is such a bottom!" Blaise chortled.
"Dominant!Lucius..." all three girls shuddered in joy.
Draco laughed weakly. "Okay, girls, really, this has gone much too far. I'm almost beginning to worry about you. You are not having fantasies about me and my father."
(I was mocking myself here, because I totally have fantasies about Draco and his father.)
"You're only saying that because you're so obviously the one taking it up the arse!" Blaise sneered.
Draco turned furiously red. "Of all the detestable, disgusting, loathsome, abhorrent, execrating, invidious-"
(That was me, playing with my thesaurus. You can figure out a lot of what I think is funny from this story. Oh, it's humiliating. I'll die now, kthnx.)
Pansy rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the other Slytherin girls. "Only a nancy boy would use those words. You're right. He so takes it up the arse."
(This is actually another in joke pointed toward myself. At this point in my fic writing career, 90% of my stories involved a Draco who is either a top, or flexible about positions. It's kind of funny, though, because the longer I think about his characterization and the more I think about his sexual preferences, the more he's been becoming more and more of a bottom. That doesn't necessarily mean that he's queeny, by any means, although I think he kind of is, at least in this story. He's definitely prissy in general. That's why I have him flexible in so many of my stories though—he has this special quality about him. He is a leader, could be a good leader—but he also has this vulnerability, this urge to follow those he thinks are stronger. Because he's terrified of being a leader and ruining things for everyone. It's easier to follow, because you can always blame the person you're following if something goes horribly wrong. I think this is something that Draco and I share. Depending on how the story I'm writing goes, it's either/or. Sometimes it makes him very contradictory in my brain, but that's the way it goes.)
Draco's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and his eyes widened in horrified surprise before his brain took one look toward the door, and the rest of his body followed. He slammed the door of the Slytherin Common Room and leaned against the wall, panting hysterically. They really must hate me, he decided as his breathing calmed. Maybe if I could find a way to make them appreciate me, they won't talk about my father like that. Especially with me in the same smutty sentence. Draco shuddered in trepidation. Honestly. The very suggestion that he-and his father-and anything up his arse-it was appalling. The answer, however, was wondrously simple to his cunning Slytherin mind. All he had to do was make them like him. Amazingly simple, for a Malfoy.
(The girls don't really hate him. If they despised him like they say they do, they wouldn't fantasize about him because it would turn their stomachs. I love his assumption that everything is so much more exceptionally easier when you're a Malfoy. Also, Draco thinking the word 'smutty' makes me giggle like an insane woman.)
And so Draco found himself alone in the library researching spells that would make him more likeable. Of course, being the Malfoy that he was, he couldn't fathom that maybe it would be better to change his personality rather than cast a spell on everyone to make them like the personality he had now. Malfoys did not change. Everyone else changed for them.
And in Trivial Everyday Spells, Draco found what he was looking for.
Guaranteed to change your life. Unliked? In moments, you will be loved. All you need to do is swish your wand and say 'Likabiliculus.'
(You know there totally has to be a book like that in the HP universe. Probably written by someone like Lockhart.)
"That certainly sounds easy enough," Draco declared cockily, and Madam Pince shot him a glare as she put her finger to her lips.
Draco ran shifty eyes over the library before he headed toward an alcove of bookshelves, his steps a quick glide against the carpet. With another look around, Draco ascertained that he was hidden from Madam Pince's prying eyes.
Draco pointed his wand at himself, and swished the tip gracefully as he said, "Lica-no that's not right...let's see... Likabilicalus."
(I was channeling Ron, there. Draco isn't the type to mispronounce a spell. Normally. But then, this is crack, so what does characterization matter, really?)
A blue light shot from the end of his wand, sending him flying against a bookcase as the light splashed and flooded Hogwarts before disappearing a moment later.
Draco groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up. "That hurt." He looked around eagerly. "Did it work?" He got up and straightened his robes, sticking the book into the pocket of his trousers before stepping out into the open.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Madame Pince hurried over to him, her lips thinned in a disapproving line.
"I'm sorry for the noise, Madame Pince," Draco said, shaking his head in bemusement as Madame Pince licked her lips, her eyes lingering on the pale hand that Draco was currently gesturing with in the air.
"What were you doing?" Madame Pince asked absently, still watching his hand.
"I fell down. Hit my head rather hard. I do believe I'll go to the infirmary now." Draco tried to get past Madame Pince, who hungrily grabbed his hand and licked it.
"What the fuck?" Draco yelled jerking his hand away, wiping it on his robe fastidiously.
(Can you blame him, really? I'd freak out if Madame Pince licked me, too. And now, we begin the Hogwarts of Horror for poor, poor Draco.)
Madame Pince licked her lips nervously, staring at him in horrified fascination. "I had to, you have no idea how much I needed to!"
"Why the hell did you have to lick my hand?" Draco's forehead wrinkled in disdain as he wiped his hand repeatedly on his robe.
"You're just-so--" Madame Pince began to weep. "I just-I wanted to lick you!" Sob. "Oh, Gods, I'm staff, I could be dismissed!"
"Damn right you are!" Draco sneered. "Just wait until I tell Professor Snape!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, still anxiously rubbing his hand on his dark robe. "Honestly, what was with that woman?"
(After Pince, I sat there and thought three questions. The first was: How far can I go with this? Secondly was: what will horrify Draco the most? And third was: What do I find hot? I think it worked surprisingly well.)
Draco slowed his pace and tilted his head to the side.
"Although, she did seem to like me more." He clapped his hands together in fiendish glee. "Ooh, I bet she's a pedophile! Father's been looking for dirt on her for years! And I was the one who discovered her dark little secret!" Draco straightened. This would be the perfect opportunity!! He thought happily. He had been practicing his Terrifying Laugh of Evil™ all summer, and he had been enthusiastically waiting for the perfect time to use The Laugh. Draco quickly looked up and down the halls to ensure his solitude and cackled evilly. The Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™ worked a little too well as it echoed eerily down the stone corridor, and Draco shivered as the torches flickered on the walls. Draco shut his mouth quickly and hummed a bit to himself. I can even scare myself with that laugh! Draco shook his head in amusement and pondered the incident in the library again. His eyes glittered maliciously as a wicked grin appeared on his lips. "I bet that's why the filthy little Mudblood's always in there! I wonder what she does for Madame Pedophile in there to get access to all the books she reads..." Draco shuddered in horror and continued down to the dungeons. Sometimes my imagination is just too good for my peace of mind.
(Oh, Draco, even in cracky stories you're still desperately hungering for your father's affection. And he's trying so hard to prove that he's a big, bad villain who deserves to be called a Death Eater, but he's failing miserably. Seriously, ™? Also, Pince/Hermione squicks me like whoa. Ugh. And dude. He can scare himself? I don't know if that's cowardly or really egotistical.)
He soon noticed, however, that every person he passed eyed a piece of his visible skin and licked his or her lips ravenously. In fact, if his reflexes hadn't been so refined from playing Quidditch, at least two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw would have licked him. There's something wrong here, he deduced as he dodged another Hufflepuff. This particular Hufflepuff had an overactive tongue, though, and the tip of the wet muscle caught the edge of Draco's cheek. The Hufflepuff giggled happily and ran the other way, as Draco wiped at his wet cheek with his sleeve, thoroughly disgusted. "Popular people don't get licked. Someone must have screwed my spell up." Of course, it didn't occur to him that he was the one who had made the mistake. He was a Malfoy-they didn't make mistakes. However, they did occasionally take the scenic route to their destination.
(For some reason, my Draco and my Snape have always had something against Hufflepuffs. I don't know why. It's not like they're bad people! My Slytherins don't have a problem with the 'hard work' bit of Hufflepuff, but they just seem to detest the idea of 'loyalty' over 'excelling'. I don't know. Differences, I guess—that's why they ended up in Slytherin, after all. ♥)
"Professor Snape!" Draco called as he stepped into the Slytherin Common room. "Professor Snape!"
"Professor Snape is in his office," Blaise purred, appearing at Draco's side.
"He's rather busy at the moment, Draco." Draco whirled around to find Pansy on his other side, licking her fingertips.
Draco's robe suddenly dropped from his shoulders, and he felt Millicent press up against his back. "Can we help you with anything, Draco?"
Draco tried to edge away as the three girls closed in around him, and arched an eyebrow. "I thought you girls hated me less than three hours ago?"
"That was different, Draco," Pansy's voice dripped honey. "That was before you became so... lickable."
(Foursome! There really are a lot of multiple partner pairings in this story, now that I think about it.)
As if that was the signal that they were waiting for, Draco suddenly found three tongues tracing their way on his body. Their tongues left slick trails on his skin that chilled him in the cool dungeon air, and he made a face, hating the slimy feel of their saliva. "Get off of me!" Draco howled, shoving at them frantically. "Get off! This is disgusting!!" He pulled away hard and jerked out of their grasp, tumbling over a footstool and smashing his head against the floor. Draco scrabbled up as his vision blurred and fell against the wall, reaching towards the door.
"But Draco!" Millicent called to him. "We like you!"
Draco perked up, rubbing the back of his head. "You do? Really?"
(Oh, Draco. You're so starved for affection. I really kind of pity this version of Draco, even though he's supposed to be funny. How desperate do you really have to be to try a spell in order to get people to like you? What does that say about how you feel about yourself? Poor baby.)
They converged on him like a wave, and he shrieked, turning and running out of the Slytherin basement. He skidded around corners and hid in tiny nooks and crannies, losing them somewhere between the Ravenclaw dormitory and Gryffindor tower. Gasping and cursing at the realization that he was actually out of shape, he made his way to Snape's office, closing the door wearily behind him.
"Draco." Snape was sitting behind his desk, a blonde guest in front of him. The guest turned, and Draco found himself facing his father.
"Draco, you look appalling," Lucius Malfoy drawled as he stood up, looking down at his son.
"What are you doing here?" Draco gasped, too tired to worry about upsetting his father at this particular moment.
"I was talking to the Head of your House, obviously," Lucius answered, and Draco nodded before turning to Snape.
(Honestly, I don't know what Lucius is doing there. I'm inclined to think that Narcissa had a dinner invitation, and Lucius took the opportunity to make a legitimate social call. I'm fond of the idea of Snape and Lucius actually being friends, of a sort. Especially when it's crack and therefore their relationship has nothing plotty involved whatsoever.)
"Professor," Draco walked forward as his breathing calmed, placing his hands on Snape's desk as he looked earnestly at his favorite teacher. "Thank God you don't seem to be affected. It's insane."
Snape gestured that Draco should sit down, and after a nod from Lucius, Draco sat in the chair that his father had previously occupied, staring down at his shaking hands. "Tell me what's going on."
"Professor," Draco began as he shot an uneasy look at his father "Everyone's trying to lick me."
"And?"
"And what? Everyone's trying to lick me. What else do you need to know?"
Snape moved from behind his desk and stood in front of Draco, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk. "Did you like it?"
Draco stared at Professor Snape as if he'd grown another head. "NO! I didn't like it at all! It's horrible, Professor, really it is!"
Lucius' hands came down on Draco's shoulders, and Draco froze, his thoughts crystallizing in realization. "When did Father come to speak with you, Professor?"
Snape took a hold of Draco's hand, turning it over and tracing the fine map of blue veins beneath Draco's skin with a finger. "About an hour and a half ago."
Draco quickly did the calculations in his head, distracted as his father began to stroke his shoulders in gentle, slow movements. The spell was cast an hour ago. Oh, shit. "You're affected by it too, aren't you?"
"If you didn't like it," Lucius leaned closer to Draco as he mused quietly, his warm breath brushing Draco's ear. "Then they were simply not doing it correctly." The older Malfoy's tongue snaked out, brushing the pulse point in Draco's throat. Draco straightened abruptly; a shiver running down his spine as Snape began to suck at his wrist, working his way up the pale arm. Draco arched away from one mouth only to find another in the opposite direction. The two elder men gracefully trailed Draco's flesh with burning licks and tiny bites that alternately caused Draco to gasp and moan.
(Huh, that's interesting. I've just learned something that's been consistent with every Draco I have ever written—his wrists have always been an erogenous zone. Fascinating. Also, gratuitous cursing is dumb. I'm ashamed of myself. Thirdly? I still find this section really hot. Severus/Draco/Lucius really hits my buttons. And, of course, Lucius and Severus would be licking connoisseurs. Why wouldn't they be? *headdesk*)
"This-this is so wrong!" Draco managed to get out as Snape unbuttoned Draco's shirt. I'm not getting turned on by this, I'm not getting turned on by this, this is icky this is bad this is-Draco whimpered as Lucius nipped lightly at his now bare shoulder, lapping at the tender area as Snape started suck on Draco's chest, taking a hardening nipple into the heat of his mouth as Draco tried ineffectually to pull away. "Professor!!" Draco cried out as he heard the fly of his trousers unzip slowly. "Please! You don't-ahhhh-you don't want to-oh!-do this!" Snape's tongue circled around the head of Draco's cock lazily and the boy twitched helplessly in sensation, fire racing through his veins.
"Severus, I need-holy shit!"
(Every time I see this line, I die laughing. There's Lupin, minding his own business, and lo and behold, a student is being molested. Seriously. Crack up every single time I see this line. Also—I've always kind of gotten the feeling that Lupin likes teaching, likes children, and would watch out for any of them if something were wrong. Lastly, I never really thought about the timeline of this story, but the fact that Lupin is a professor obviously places it in third year. OMG I wrote porn for thirteen year olds!! I am obviously beyond all redemption. Holy crap. However, the fact that Harry is visiting Snuffles later on states it has to be fourth year or later. Ha ha. Timelines. I fucked it up hardcore.)
At the sound of the newcomer's voice, Snape looked up, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. "I am currently in the middle of something, Lupin," he hissed. "Go away."
Draco craned his head as far back as possible, looking at Professor Lupin with wide eyes. He never thought that he would be happy that Remus Lupin had come back as the DADA teacher. "Professor Lupin, please-help me..."
"You would do well to stay away from things that don't concern you, wolf," Lucius muttered darkly. Lupin ignored the two men, storming into the room and grabbing Draco's shoulder, pushing Snape away from the boy as he pulled Draco towards the door. Lucius and Snape hissed at Lupin, reaching forward for Draco, who cowered in Lupin's grasp. Lupin tossed Draco behind him and growled at the two men in warning. Draco zipped up his pants and buttoned the first two buttons of his shirt before realizing that there was probably a ninety-five percent chance that Professor Lupin was also affected by the epidemic desire to lick. Draco turned tail and ran.
"Wait!" he heard Lupin call after him, but Draco was too smart for that. He didn't want to be caught between the three of them, no sir. He needed to get the spell off of him immediately. But he had read the pages of the spell intently--the book never spoke of a counter curse. And unfortunately, Draco knew of only one person who was skilled enough to find the answer he needed. I. Hate. Mudbloods.
(Lupin's feelings are hurt here. He obviously goes directly to Dumbledore with this, because dude. Student molestation is not a good thing, and the fact that this was a head of house and a parent? Something's obviously very, very wrong.)
He made his way up to the Gryffindor tower and quietly told the Fat Lady that he needed to speak to Granger. The Fat Lady gave him a simpering smile and turned, vanishing from the portrait, probably going to ask the Mudblood Gryffindor if she wanted to speak to Draco. Less than five minutes later, an especially bushy and slightly panting Granger opened the portrait.
"What do you-"Granger glared, and blinked in surprise. "-want, Malfoy?" she finished breathlessly.
(The first draft, she actually opened the door, already besotted. And then I realized that the spell probably took affect on first sight, which is why she changes her attitude mid sentence.)
"Granger, I need your help." Draco showed her the book. "Can you-I mean, will you..." Draco paused. "Fix it, or I'll hex your teeth again."
(Draco has never said anything as difficult as "I need your help." to Hermione Granger. Not even when he told his father at the end of first year that Slytherin had lost the cup because of Harry Potter.)
"All right, Malfoy," Granger agreed easily. "Come on in." Draco edged into the empty common room and sat gingerly on a red-and-gold armchair as Granger flipped through the book to the page he had marked. Granger laughed, arching her eyebrow. "You wanted to make people like you?" She swallowed her laughter with a small cough and inclined her head. "What did you do, exactly?"
(Hermione obviously has an ulterior motive. But she's not so far gone that she can't appreciate the irony of his situation.)
"I did precisely what it said in the book, Granger," Draco snapped. "A swish of the wand and Likabilicalus."
"Oh!" Granger closed the book with a small thud and handed the volume back to Draco. "Well, that explains your problem completely!" Draco looked at her blankly, and she hastened to explain. "The spell was Likabiliculus, not Likabilicalus. You mispronounced it."
"There must have been a misprint." He declared firmly.
"No, you made a mistake." Granger nodded adamantly.
"I'm a Malfoy." He insisted. "We don't make mistakes."
(Still love the fact that he refuses to accept any responsibility for this whatsoever. He's so lame. ♥)
Granger shrugged. "Then it must be your mother's blood, because you screwed up. But don't worry-the spell has a temporary effect. It won't last more than three hours." Draco glowered at her furiously, and she gave him a shy smile. "Now that I helped you..." she declared hesitantly. "...I can lick you, right? That way you won't owe me anything for helping you. Just one lick. Please?"
Draco sneered in disgust. "No! Like I would let a Mudblood-eww." He shuddered.
Two hands suddenly clamped down on his neck, and Draco had a sudden sense of foreboding. His eyes flew up to find a leering Ronald Weasley standing above him. "'Mione, I've got him!"
(The fact that I trapped Draco between Hermione and Ron traumatizes me even more than I traumatized my muse. We have a strange relationship. I squish and coddle him and then do horrible, horrible things that will scar him forever.)
Fifteen minutes later, Draco fell over the threshold of the portrait, shaking in reaction as he put his weight on the wall of the corridor and made his way down the hall. WEASLEY SPIT!!! Draco's mind shrieked at him. WEASLEY SLOBBERED ALL OVER ME!!! Draco flung out his arms in panic as a small sob escaped his lips. He wiped furiously at his damp skin with his shirt. His chest heaved with his frenzied breaths. AND MUDBLOOD DROOL!!! Draco decided at that moment to find a classroom to collapse in. He was not going to allow himself to be cornered by another person until this spell had run out, and that was final. His skin crawled, and he trembled again in reaction. God, that's going to feature in my nightmares for years.
(Okay. Here's a confession. Ever since I discovered that Blaise was a) definitely a guy and b) definitely hot, and then trained by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nonewwitticisms to lust after him unconditionally, I have plotted to give Blaise his own little porn section. Therefore, it would be Daphe in the previous Blaise sections, and then Blaise would get his own introductory scene where he was slinky and best friend-y and did not prove or disprove whether he hated Draco or not. And then his pr0n scene would go right here. Draco goes into the bathroom to wash the slimy spit off, and when he comes out, Blaise happens to be there for one thing or another, probably because he saw a glimpse of Draco and wondered what the hell he was doing now. Because this Draco has several questionable habits, and it's become rote for this Blaise to save Draco from himself.
For example—Draco had a tendency to drink water from the well in the graveyard. He doesn't do that anymore because Blaise told him he was barmy, and that he shouldn't do it anymore. If not for Blaise, Draco would have far fewer brain cells.
So, yes. In my brain canon, Harry gets sloppy seconds now.)
Draco oh-so-carefully made his way down the halls, dodging students as they went along their way, holding his breath so that they couldn't hear him, and doing absolutely nothing that would draw attention to him. His eyes brightened as he entered an empty hallway, and he noticed the inviting doorway of an unoccupied classroom. Six steps away.... five steps ... four steps.... Draco's breathing sped up hopefully as he made his way across the hallway. Two steps... he slammed into something invisible and froze. "What the hell?" Draco put a hand in front of him, surprised to feel the silkiness of cloth. He jerked the invisible cloth from the air, and gave a half-choked laugh. "Potter. Of course. My day would not be complete without you."
Harry Potter blinked owlishly at Draco, frowning. Seeing as the rest of Potter's body was invisible, Potter's floating head entertained Draco briefly. "What happened to you, Malfoy?" he sputtered finally. Draco looked down to find his new button-up shirt was missing some buttons, revealing his muscled chest and stomach, and that the fine fabric had turned transparent on his damp skin.
(I love Harry in this story. Everything he does, I want to squish. And he's so obviously not affected by the spell that I don't know why Draco doesn't pick up on it to begin with!)
Draco attempted his Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™, and stopped as the corner of Potter's mouth twitched. "What?"
"What the hell was that, Malfoy?" Potter shook his head in amusement.
"That was my Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™, Potter!" Draco exclaimed in outrage. "You can't laugh at that!! I've been practicing it all summer!"
"Oh!" Potter paused, tilting his head as he looked at Draco. "So instead of working on getting yourself a decent personality, you spent all summer working on your I'm a Sodding Wanker Cackle ™. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
(I know, intellectually, that Harry wins at snark more often than Draco does. But it still shocks me when my muse proves it.)
Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he made his way into the empty classroom, implicitly knowing that Potter would follow him. "You know what, Potter? I don't care anymore. So go ahead."
"Huh?" Potter scratched his head, shying away from Draco. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm telling you that I know you want to lick me, Potter. So go ahead. It'll be the perfect ending to a bloody perfect day." He turned to his rival expectantly.
Potter had paled his jade eyes wide behind his glasses. "Who-who told you??" he choked out, and Draco shrugged elegantly, tossing a hand up into the air.
"Everyone wants to lick me, Potter. Why should you be any different? So do it." Draco extended a hand and waited patiently while Potter gaped.
"Y-you're mad." Potter stuttered.
"Listen, there's no reason to deny it. Just do it before I start ignoring you." Draco waved his hand imperiously as Potter stared.
"Are-are you sure?" Potter hesitated again, and Draco rolled his eyes, sitting at one of the desks and putting his head on the cool surface. There was the sound of a small movement, and Draco stiffened as Potter raised his hand up in the air. Draco inhaled sharply as Potter sucked a finger into his mouth, Potter's tongue indolently tracing circles on the pad of Draco's fingertip. Once Potter finished with one finger, he went to the next, slowly giving each finger the same attention. Draco swallowed painfully, his throat suddenly dry as he raised his head. Potter had his eyes closed, and he made a small sound of contentment as his lips trailed down to Draco's wrist. What is everyone's fascination with my hands? Draco wondered as he continued to watch Potter lick at his wrist. Somehow, he wasn't as disturbed by the fact that Potter was licking him as he was when Professor Snape had been licking him... and Potter was really good at it, too. Damp without drooling; heat; teasing, cool breaths, and just a touch of pain with a scrape of his teeth. A tiny sound must have given him away, because Potter opened his eyes and raised his head to look at Draco, who, not to be outdone, stared back just as intently.
(Oh, god, why did I think this was passable? I hate writing porn. I need to stop doing it. Also, everyone has a fascination with Draco's hands because I have a fascination with Draco's hands. The end.)
Suddenly, Potter's mouth was on his, hot and silky, demanding entrance as he pinned the blond boy to his seat. Draco gasped in surprise and Potter's tongue swept into his mouth, tangling their tongues together as he tugged impatiently on Draco's hair, slanting his head for better access. Well, Draco thought muzzily, his hands reaching up to cling to the boy who was so passionately exploring his mouth. No one else has thought to lick inside my mouth today. Draco suddenly found himself deposited on the edge of the desk, his shirt fluttering off his shoulders to lie in a pile on the ground. Potter abandoned Draco's mouth to bite a path to his shoulder, exploring the planes of the pale boy's back with his hands as he nibbled and sucked at Draco's skin.
(Oh, yes. Harry is both clever and horny. Draco hero-worships him a bit, honestly, although he will genuinely commit suicide before he lets even the breath of that suggestion become common knowledge.)
Draco moaned, clinging to Potter and knocking the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders as his hands crept under Potter's shirt to explore the unknown territory of skin that lay beneath the rough cotton. Potter nearly purred in satisfaction, his stubby nails streaking down Draco's back and urging the other boy closer. Draco's legs looped around Potter's waist, and Potter thrust against him, a groan escaping both their lips at the heated friction.
This is way beyond licking. A suddenly lucid voice in Draco's head piped up. He's using his hands. He's doing all this stroking and thrusting stuff and oh my god THAT was NOT his tongue!
Will you shut up? Draco snarled at the small voice as Potter fumbled with the belt on Draco's trousers. Draco arched off of the table to help Potter remove the layers of clothing he was wearing.
(Awww. I keep hearing a sort of Jiminy Cricket type thing going on here. That inner voice is totally his conscience. Or his common sense. God, the kid is messed up. Also, first attempts at smut writing are awful. Ugh. Also, Harry Potter is like a train—it takes him forever to stop once he starts something. You'd think he'd want a date first, but no. It's immediately to the point of 'please allow me to stick my dick in your arse.' Only without the please.)
Whatever happened to the Draco Malfoy code of How to Deal With Harry Potter? The voice demanded frantically. Isn't the one and only rule to Make Potter's Life a Living Hell? Draco gave a half-choked whimper as Potter's hand closed around his erection, helplessly thrusting up against that hand as Potter laughed huskily.
(I am also very fond of the fact that Draco has a code of conduct that he uses for dealing with Harry Potter, even if it does end up being completely useless.)
"Liked that, did you, Malfoy?" Potter's voice was dark and smoky with desire as he licked at Draco's ear. Draco gave an affirming gasp as Potter's hand tightened around him.
DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOU'RE MAKING POTTER'S LIFE A LIVING HELL RIGHT NOW? The voice screeched indignantly.
I've changed my mind! Draco mentally panted at the voice. My new Draco Malfoy code of How to Deal With Harry Potter is: If It Feels Good, Don't Stop!
There was a moment of mental silence as Draco thrust against Potter again, shivering as something warm and slick entered him gently. Oh. The voice muttered weakly. Well, if you changed the code...
(The fact that his common sense gives way so easily makes me cackle madly. Favorite line in the story, for serious.)
The voice went silent as Draco clutched at Potter's shoulders biting at the pulsing flesh of Potter's throat. "Don't stop, Potter!" Draco commanded, rubbing against the other boy feverishly. Potter's wand-was that his wand?-brushed a spot inside him that sent flashes of pleasure zinging through his body, and he sucked in a deep breath as his eyes flew open.
"Wantedthiswantedyoucan'tbelieve-" Potter's words were pressed against Draco's chest, murmured as he touched skin and sweat, tossing his wand off to the side.
"Oh, God," Draco murmured, clawing at Potter's arms. "Potter-Potter-look at me!" Draco pulled Potter's head up and stared into glazed jade eyes.
"Yes, Malfoy?" Potter asked breathlessly, his eyes unfocused, as he had lost his glasses somewhere in the middle of their impassioned groping.
"You're not under the spell, are you?" Draco exhaled.
(Took him long enough, don't you think?)
Potter's eyes were guileless. "What spell, Malfoy? Was it another dismal failure like your Sodding Wanker Cackle?" He wriggled against Draco and his hands drifted down to cup Draco's backside.
"You're doing this...because you want to?" Draco asked incredulously, blinking as Potter laughed and licked at Draco's mouth.
(Poor Draco. For all his blustering, he's honestly surprised. No one ever does anything with him because they want to.)
"Aren't you?"
Well, technically... why am I doing this? Hormones. Pure hormones. Draco didn't bother to answer Potter, deigning instead to bridge the small gap between them with his lips. He moaned as Potter inserted a finger into him and slowly continued to stretch him. "You are taking too long!" Draco gritted out.
"I-I don't want to hurt you," Potter stammered.
(Harry's trying not to break the mood here, because he's smart and wants sex and knows that if he does something Draco doesn't like, Draco will go mercurial on him and curse him instead of bottom for him.)
Draco grinned and fumbled at Potter's belt. "You won't. Do me now, Potter." Draco threw his arms around Potter's neck and they overbalanced, Potter landing heavily in the chair beside the desk.
(Honestly, Draco's mocking Harry, because seriously, Harry is treating Draco like a fragile flower. Also, "do me now" is so painfully bodice-ripper talk, which I also find funny and awful. Draco!muse hated me for writing this story. I kind of hate myself a little, too.)
Potter gave a pained grunt as Draco landed on him. "You need to work on a diet, Malfoy," Potter muttered breathlessly, and Draco glared at him.
"It's not my fault that you aren't competent enough to handle my masculine strength." Draco declared loftily, pulling Potter's pants down eagerly.
(The image of this sentence cracks me up. Masculine strength! I shall use it to yank your trousers down!)
"Your masculine strength?" Potter snorted as Draco looked at his cock dubiously.
"You're that small?" He asked in a confused voice, and Potter glowered.
(Draco obviously doesn't have the vaguest clue about what's he's saying. Moron.)
"I'm not!" Potter exclaimed, flushing brightly. "Honestly, Malfoy-"
"Forget it." Draco waved it away and touched the purplish head curiously. He grinned at Potter's abrupt intake of breath, and gave him a superior look. "Now, do that lubricating thing again." Potter looked as if he couldn't decide between laughing and leaving, and performed the lubrication charm on himself as Draco edged closer. "Now," Draco murmured in concentration. "This shouldn't be that difficult at all." Draco impaled himself roughly on Potter's erection and hissed, tensing immediately. "Forget what I said, Potter," Draco seethed as pain rippled through him. "You're too big--"
(And this was me telling the audience that Draco had absolutely no idea what the hell he was talking about. Moron.)
Potter pulled Draco closer, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Shh," Potter murmured, trembling from the effort of keeping still. "Relax. It'll hurt more if you're all tense."
"And how did you become such a fount of erotic knowledge?" Draco spat, and Potter flushed again.
"I... um... did some reading." He muttered bashfully, and Draco rolled his eyes. Now that he thought about it, however, the discomfort wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, and he tightened his muscles experimentally. Potter's whimper was more than enough of a result, and Draco sniggered.
(I love the idea of Harry reading about gay sex and trying to hide it from Hermione. Also, it says so much about their relationship that the more I write them, the more inclined I am to think that Draco will totally laugh at Harry, even if he's the one losing his virginity.)
"Having a bit of trouble, Potter?" he snickered, and Potter remained silent, his hands wandering to Draco's hips and guiding him upward. Draco gasped, at the slide of movement inside of him and instinctively moved downward to meet Potter's thrust. Potter's hands stroked up Draco's sides, and Draco inhaled harshly, his head tilting back to expose his throat to a heated lick. Pleasure so intense it ached spread through Draco's body as Potter thrust into him, and he could swear that his blood had turned molten, following the scorching path of Potter's hands. Draco pressed his mouth to Potter's as they arched together--he supposed he was trying to kiss Potter, but he was really much more interested in the feelings generating from their bodies' union, and ended up gasping against his lips instead. Draco never had been good at multitasking.
Draco's hands wandered over Potter's shoulders, scratching at his skin and biting at Potter's lower lip in delight as he arched again, enthralled by the feeling of sweat and skin and the way desire was throbbing through his body in time with his heartbeat. Potter's hand closed around Draco's erection tightly, and Draco's hips rolled, thrusting into the touch. Each short, tight stroke of Potter's hand against his flesh drew a breathless gasp from Draco's mouth, and Draco came abruptly with a shuddering sigh, slumping bonelessly against Potter's chest. Potter's face rested in the curve of Draco's shoulder, sucking at the skin as he thrust haphazardly, losing his rhythm as he climaxed, Draco's body spasming around him in ecstasy.
Draco groaned as Potter brushed back a lock of his hair, flicking a trail of sweat away from his temple. Draco was so weak that he couldn't move, and as Potter seemed averse to separating at the moment as well, Draco thought it was nice that they were agreeing on something for once. Draco relished in the feeling of Potter's skin against his, thinking with a vague sleepiness that Potter was better at sex than he'd expected, and that the feeling of Potter inside him was rather agreeable.
(Ugh. First time writing pr0n is bad. Bad, bad, bad.)
Wait.
Potter. Inside of him.
(Of course, this is instantly when he think about his chorus of fangirls. In the common room, the girls all sneeze. < /Japanese joke>)
"No. I didn't." Draco whimpered, and Potter raised his head, smiling drowsily up at him.
"Didn't what?" Potter yawned, and his head dropped back onto Draco's shoulder.
"I wasn't on top." He whined.
"Yes, you were. Who's sitting on whom?" Potter raised his head again and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"You are up my arse. The girls were right." Draco blinked, biting his lip in distress. "Oh, gods, if they ever find out about this my father won't be the only thing they fantasize about. Next it'll be you, and then---the Weasel---and then---then they'll go onto Professor Hooch and my broom--"
(Draco has such a perverted imagination. Harry wants no part of this conversation.)
"Wh-what?" Potter sputtered. "What on earth are you talking about??" He shoved at Draco irritably. "Get off me."
Draco scrambled off of Potter and made a face at the sticky mess on his chest from when he'd ejaculated on himself and Harry, and jerked on his clothes, tugging his hair into place anxiously.
"Now, would you care to tell me what this spell you were jabbering on about is?" Potter inquired as he dressed.
"No." Draco stated immediately, yanking on his shirt and staring angrily at the lack of buttons. "My god, that Mudblood is strong. Potter," Draco muttered peevishly. "When you get back to the common room, will you kindly search for my buttons? This was a brand new shirt that your friends ruined."
(I love the idea that it was Hermione that ripped his shirt to shreds. Ron just sat and slavered, and Hermione totally did all the work. This is also the first clue that actually gets through Harry's hormones.)
"My friends?" Potter squeaked, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. "What on earth do my friends have to do with you?"
"Never mind!" Draco snapped, and jerked off his shirt to clean up the mess on his chest. He glared at Potter and tossed him the shirt. "Might as well-it's already ruined. Tell me what time it is."
"It's about four, Malfoy," Potter shook his head as he wiped himself clean. "Why?"
Draco yawned widely, his jaw popping at the movement. "I still have half an hour, then. I'm going to sleep."
"You're what? Here?"
"Potter, are you especially stupid today for some reason?" Draco snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I knew you were mental, but I never thought you were slow."
"Jeez, Malfoy." Potter muttered defensively. "I'm sorry if I'm not thinking to your standards. I just had amazing sex, if you didn't know."
Draco grinned, his chest puffing out in pride. "Yes, I was rather spectacular, wasn't I?" Potter began to laugh, and Draco huffed in disgust. "Forget it. A Gryffindor. I need to go for psychiatric counseling." Draco shook his head and gave Potter an icy glance. "I am going to sleep. You are going to leave me in peace."
(I made a mistake here. Draco doesn't even know what psychiatric counseling is. I hate making rookie mistakes. Also. 'Amazing' first time sex? Please. Harry's so lucky I was lame enough not to think about what sex between to virgins was probably going to be like. I say that Harry has the stamina to get Draco off because a) Draco's got a hair trigger, and b) lots of masturbation. *headdesk*)
"Wait-" Potter began hesitantly. "I mean-what's going to happen now... that we..." Draco looked at Potter curiously for a moment, and Potter flushed, gesturing at their rumpled states.
Draco snorted. "It was sex, Potter. It's not like I joined that Phoenix Order or got disinherited." Draco paused in horror. "Although I might be after today..."
(Oh, god. Harry's transition to 'yay we just had sex' to 'obviously that means we're boyfriends now! ♥' kills me dead. I don't know why he thinks that way, but all Harry's that aren't Dark!Harry in my brain definitely have that switch. Like when he went to the Halloween Ball with Padma in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
_slippingaway_. 'We danced, she's my girlfriend yay!♥' Sometimes I find Harry ridiculously adorable.
As for Draco, I kept telling him that if he just let Snape and Lucius go all the way, he could have milked their horror over their actions for years. He didn't appreciate that in the least.)
"Oh." Harry's voice was small. "So, it doesn't change anything..."
(Harry's heart is broken. Draco is disgusted that apparently he really isn't the girl in this relationship.)
"Oh, for crying out loud, you sod." Draco exclaimed, shaking his head. "We can be... fuck buddies or something. Just go away so I can sleep." Draco curled up into a corner, shivering as the cold stone touched his bare back, and shut his eyes tightly, wrapping his arms around himself. It was quiet for several minutes, and Draco began to drift off despite the chill in the air. Sex really was more tiring than he'd expected.
Then, suddenly, a cloak was draped over his shoulders, and fingers brushed gently against his hair. "Goodnight, Draco," Potter whispered softly, and he left the room. Draco pulled the warm cloak closer, prying open an eye and sighing as he saw the unmarked garment resting over him. He left to get a cloak to keep me warm? Draco wrapped the cloak around him tightly, and took a deep breath. It smelled of chocolate and soap-it smelled like Harry Potter. Draco snuggled into the warmth and thought, just for a moment, that something might have changed between them after all.
(Harry thinks: If I can be the perfect boyfriend, he'll keep me!
Draco thinks: I wonder how much he'll try to appease me if I go hot and cold on him all the time?
And also denies, of course, that he's had any charitable thoughts about Harry or any expectations of change in their relationship whatsoever.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco woke up about an hour after Potter had left him and, clutching at the cloak, made his way down to his dorm for a shower. After getting clean and changing clothes, Draco felt much better-after all, no Malfoy was ever willingly dirty for more than an hour or two, and Draco had been dying to get the smell of stale sex off of his skin.
(I still love his whole 'Malfoys don't do this, they do this' mentality. He's such an idiot. I love him.)
His stomach growled ferociously, and he stalked down the halls, sending angry glares at everyone he saw. Quite a few students glared back at him, and a couple turned green and scraped at their tongue anxiously. Up ahead, he saw Potter and his little entourage.
"You're so lucky you were visiting Snuffles today, Harry." Weasel was saying with a shudder.
"Apparently." Potter agreed. "What's this whole thing that's got everyone so upset anyway?"
"That stupid Malfoy," Granger huffed, her shoulders shaking as she shot a narrow-eyed look across the corridor. "He can't even cast a spell right. Apparently, he just discovered that everyone hated him-how dense can someone be?-and decided that a spell would make everyone like him instead. And he messed up and had the audacity to come to me to fix it. Me!"
"He messed up?" Potter wondered. "So... what happened?"
"The idiot mispronounced the spell!" Granger raged. "And instead of becoming likeable, he became...ah... lickable."
"Malfoy." Potter said slowly. "Became lickable." Draco could almost see the wheels turning inside Potter's head, and Potter laughed abruptly. "And here I thought I was just being sarcastic when I accused him of spending the summer on his cackle instead of his personality."
"When did you do that?" Weasel wondered, and Potter waved the thought away, scratching absently at his neck. "Mordred!" Weasel yelped, yanking at Potter's hand and staring at the scratches on Potter's neck. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, these scratches?" Harry blushed. "I got attacked by a rabid ferret."
Draco glowered. I'm a rabid ferret, am I? He wondered, and shoved between the group, shooting a dirty look at the three of them. "Out of my way."
(Draco feels absolutely used here. Not even three hours after Harry Potter, of all people, takes his virginity, and he's already getting smack talked about him. I understand how he feels, but I also know that Harry's totally in 'Yay, Draco's my boyfriend' land, and he doesn't want Hermione and Ron to spoil it for him. It would be a lot easier for both of them if there was such a thing as communication. But talking? For them? Please.
At any rate, Draco's trying really hard not to show how hurt he is by this talk, which is why the next sentence comes out of his mouth before he even thinks about it. 'Ha, Potter, I'll show you that I'm absolutely not affected by what you said and did by inviting Granger to the next dance! Take that!'
Harry is amused, instead of appropriately guilty.)
"Yikes!" Ron yelped, jumping away. "What d'you want, Malfoy?"
"I don't want anything, Weasel." Draco snarled. "Actually, I changed my mind. I want financial recompense for the emotional trauma you put me through."
"That I put you through?" Ron yelled. "What about Hermione? She licked you too!"
Harry choked.
"From Granger," Draco hissed. "I expect a new shirt. Or--" he added as an after thought, glaring at Harry and Ron malevolently. "You can be my date to the Yule ball this year."
(All things considered, the request for a new shirt isn't that inappropriate. I was impressed he was so reasonable.
Also, watch me be lame and just naturally assume there'd be another dance. God. I was awful to canon in this story.)
Granger stopped dead. "What?"
"You heard me. If you can manage to look decent with Krum as your date, with my money behind you, you'll be even better this year."
(Draco acts as though he thinks Krum is sub par and beyond hope, but really, he liked him a lot. He's just talking a lot without his brain in this section.)
Hermione blinked. "But-but-I'm a Muggle-born!"
Draco paused. "Why, yes, you are. So I guess that just leaves you the option of paying for my shirt." Draco stormed into the Great Hall and stomped over to the Slytherin table.
"Insufferable!" Weasel shouted at him as the trio made their way towards the Gryffindor table.
"And the Weasel knows big words too!" Draco shouted back. He glowered at them a final time for good measure and turned his eyes to his plate. Little by little, the rest of the students wandered into the Great Hall for dinner, pointing to Draco and whispering among themselves. Draco looked up at the teachers' table just in time to see Professor Snape go red with anger. God, Draco hated everyone.
(Just add Blaise to this scene, leaning and smirking around. It makes it much prettier.)
When the last of the students sat down, Dumbledore stood up, his eyes still retaining the cheerful glint that was ever present. "Mr. Malfoy."
Draco suppressed a groan and stood up. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"It has come to my attention that you have had a very eventful afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."
"You could say that, Headmaster," Draco agreed. "It was rather more colorful than usual, wasn't it?"
(This nice and agreeable conversation that Draco and Dumbledore have here just kills me. Because of course we can count on Dumbledore to be blasé about the whole thing!)
Dumbledore looked at Draco over the half-moons of his spectacles. "As the students most likely know what's going on, I'll refrain from explaining the situation and go directly to your punishment instead." Dumbledore looked at Professor Snape and smiled. "Professor Snape asked me to put Slytherin House negative in points, but I think that's rather harsh, considering the fact that you meant no harm... However, I must impress on you the severity of your actions. Therefore, I will remove one hundred and fifty points from Slytherin. But for your daring escape from the Slytherin girls," Dumbledore looked at Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise, who blushed furiously, "I award you twenty-five points." Snape turned purple.
(This was when I was in my period of thinking that Dumbledore could be a fair headmaster. You totally know he'd be amused and award points for daring escapes—he already did it for Harry in canon.)
"Thank you, sir." Draco smirked at his housemates, and ducked a plate that Pansy threw at him.
"Temper, temper, Miss Parkinson," Dumbledore admonished. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, I must tell you that I am disappointed in your behavior concerning Professor Lupin. If you had read the manuscript completely, you would have noticed that the spell you used does not affect Dark Creatures."
"How was I to know?" Draco demanded. "All I knew was that I didn't want to be caught between three old perverts!"
(The smart students start putting two and two together to make four. Lupin's feelings are hurt. Snape wants to commit suicide. Lucius has already gone home to break into Narcissa's chocolate stash.)
Snape averted his eyes, and Dumbledore nodded shrewdly. "Keep that in mind for any...later inconveniences." Draco nodded, and Dumbledore looked down at a scrap of parchment next to his plate. "Before he left, your father asked me to tell you that you will not be permitted to come home for Christmas holidays this year."
(Every time I read that line, 'later inconveniences' I think: What does Dumbledore think Draco is?? Does he just expect him to have this kind of issue again? I mean, seriously, I think this is a funny line, but what does it mean? Gah!)
"All right." Draco nodded. "I had expected to be disinherited, actually." There was an explosive cough from the Gryffindor table. Everyone turned to see Harry Potter coughing, with the Weasel and Mudblood pounding on his back. A murmur rose from the students, and Draco shrank away from the eyes for an instant before straightening in irritation. Why does everyone think this was my fault? He wondered, glaring at Potter before turning back to Dumbledore.
(Yes, Harry just got it. I blame the sex on how slow his brain is running on innuendo.)
"You also have a month of detention with Professor Lupin. He will give you the details later." Draco nodded numbly at Dumbledore's words. "Did you learn anything from your adventures today, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco paused, and then looked over at Harry, who looked serenely back at him, fully recovered from his coughing fit, a hint of a smile playing on his mouth. Rabid ferret, my arse, Draco thought, and suddenly found himself nodding. "Yes, I did, Headmaster."
"Would you care to share with the rest of us, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Actually, I would." Draco placed his palms on the Slytherin table, and swept his eyes over his fellow students before staring intently at Potter. Potter's eyes widened, and he tried to slouch down in his seat. "I learned," Draco drawled mildly, smirking at Potter. "That Harry Potter has a very talented tongue."
(Harry totally knew that Draco was going to do something that made him want to die. Of course, Draco's revenge plans never go quite the way he wants them to, so he doesn't think at all about what that sentence says about him. Oh, honey. Don't worry. Blaise will mock and protect you. ♥
Anyway, so that's that. I don't have anything to say, other than I hate Amanda for asking me to do this. Not really. But maybe just a little.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
(Okay. This story originally came into mind directly after I saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Felton had to be like, the hottest thirteen year old ever. All pale and sleek and mean. And I felt like a totally disgusting pervert. But anyway, sometimes I have these absolutely ridiculous ideas—things like, oh, what if Harry teaches Draco about the wonders of Cheese Whiz, or Hey, what if Draco was an absolute dumbass who accidentally made a spell that made him lickable?
Often, these ideas don't see the light, and I occasionally poke them in amusement. Or get pissed off because, omg, I had that idea first, you person who has so little shame that you actually posted what you'd thought of! Draco being lickable, however? It stayed. And haunted me. And has been the bane of my existence ever since I put pen to paper.)
Draco Malfoy was sitting in the Slytherin common room, articulating eloquently about the injustice of being subjected to Harry Potter and his friends. "I simply don't understand," he was saying for the 19th time, "how the Headmaster can so blithely ignore Potter's blatant disregard of the rules; Potter's such a teacher's pet-except for Professor Snape, of course. At least Snape treats Potty like the piece of dirt he is-still, he's such a perfect Quidditch star, he's so bloody brave, if you can call complete and utter luck anything less than stupidity--"
(I love it when Draco rants about Harry Potter. I want to squish him. Here, I was trying to make him just annoying enough so that you can understand how everyone feels, but also vulnerable and young enough that it becomes a little endearing.)
"Draco!" Crabbe interrupted.
"-and of course I don't. If my father had any say in it at all, honestly--"
"Draco!" Goyle tapped Draco's shoulder.
"-Hogwarts would be a complete haven for purebloods. Mudbloods should be exterminated."
"Will you shut up?!"
Crabbe and Goyle bellowed, and a hush fell over the common room as Crabbe and Goyle stormed out, Draco blinking at their backs.
(I'm also fond of when Crabbe and Goyle get fed up with Draco. It never, ever, ever happens, but come on. Even they have to get tired of hearing it eventually, right?)
"Where are they going?" Draco sulked, and Pansy came over to him, looking serious as she touched his shoulder.
"Do you really want to know the truth, Draco?"
"What is it, Parkinson?" Draco asked, favoring her with a death glare as his curiosity reared a head that he mused looked surprisingly like Dobby the House Elf in a Frank-N-Furter costume.
(Obviously, I was under the influence of hardcore crack. I never write like this. Did I think it was funny? Terrible, terrible simile. Ugh.)
"Well, Draco, I'd hate to be the one to break this to you, but no one likes you."
"What the hell are you talking about? Everyone likes me!"
(Oh, this Draco is really so deluded. I just thought it would be funny if everyone really did hate him, except for the one person he considers to be his arch enemy. I'm contrary like that.)
"Everybody hates you, Draco. For crying out loud, we're secretly rooting for Potter every time we play! We all hate your guts."
"Why are you always hanging around me if you don't like me, then?" Draco demanded sourly, pulling away from Pansy and slouching against the couch.
"We like your money, Draco," Millicent assured him easily, patting his shoulder.
"And your father!" Blaise added.
(Blaise is a girl here because, a) we didn't have the information that he was a boy, even though I'd consistently written him as one before hand, and b) because I was lazy. Lazy, lazy, lazy, and I'd completely forgotten that Daphne Greengrass existed. I wanted Draco to have a chorus of fangirls, because as much as I love fandom, we're all morons. ♥
Really, though, at this point, every time you see the name 'Blaise', you can think 'Daphne'.)
Pansy sighed dramatically. "Oh, Lucius, you pettable man!"
Draco gaped in horror as the Slytherin girls burst into giggles. "I'd take Lucius' Mark over You-Know-Who's any day," Millicent sighed dreamily.
"Narcissa is the luckiest woman alive! She gets to play with all that hair at night!" Blaise giggled.
(I put that in there because even though the hair was a wig, Jason Isaacs looked really, really awesome as a blonde. And it was so long and pretty and guh.)
"May I remind you," Draco interrupted as his pale skin began to take on a green tinge, "that you're talking about my father here?"
"Shut up and look cute for a minute, Draco!" Pansy demanded, and Draco was so surprised his mouth shut with an audible snap. Pansy's eyes half-closed as a contented little smile formed on her lips. "Oh, the best fantasy ever..."
"What is it?" the other girls shrieked, looking curiously at their friend as Draco tried to discretely edge off of the couch and towards the door.
"Lucius...and Draco..." Draco froze as three pairs of eyes stared at him, and jumped as Millicent and Blaise squealed happily.
"I don't know why we didn't see it before!" Millicent cried.
"Draco is such a bottom!" Blaise chortled.
"Dominant!Lucius..." all three girls shuddered in joy.
Draco laughed weakly. "Okay, girls, really, this has gone much too far. I'm almost beginning to worry about you. You are not having fantasies about me and my father."
(I was mocking myself here, because I totally have fantasies about Draco and his father.)
"You're only saying that because you're so obviously the one taking it up the arse!" Blaise sneered.
Draco turned furiously red. "Of all the detestable, disgusting, loathsome, abhorrent, execrating, invidious-"
(That was me, playing with my thesaurus. You can figure out a lot of what I think is funny from this story. Oh, it's humiliating. I'll die now, kthnx.)
Pansy rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the other Slytherin girls. "Only a nancy boy would use those words. You're right. He so takes it up the arse."
(This is actually another in joke pointed toward myself. At this point in my fic writing career, 90% of my stories involved a Draco who is either a top, or flexible about positions. It's kind of funny, though, because the longer I think about his characterization and the more I think about his sexual preferences, the more he's been becoming more and more of a bottom. That doesn't necessarily mean that he's queeny, by any means, although I think he kind of is, at least in this story. He's definitely prissy in general. That's why I have him flexible in so many of my stories though—he has this special quality about him. He is a leader, could be a good leader—but he also has this vulnerability, this urge to follow those he thinks are stronger. Because he's terrified of being a leader and ruining things for everyone. It's easier to follow, because you can always blame the person you're following if something goes horribly wrong. I think this is something that Draco and I share. Depending on how the story I'm writing goes, it's either/or. Sometimes it makes him very contradictory in my brain, but that's the way it goes.)
Draco's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and his eyes widened in horrified surprise before his brain took one look toward the door, and the rest of his body followed. He slammed the door of the Slytherin Common Room and leaned against the wall, panting hysterically. They really must hate me, he decided as his breathing calmed. Maybe if I could find a way to make them appreciate me, they won't talk about my father like that. Especially with me in the same smutty sentence. Draco shuddered in trepidation. Honestly. The very suggestion that he-and his father-and anything up his arse-it was appalling. The answer, however, was wondrously simple to his cunning Slytherin mind. All he had to do was make them like him. Amazingly simple, for a Malfoy.
(The girls don't really hate him. If they despised him like they say they do, they wouldn't fantasize about him because it would turn their stomachs. I love his assumption that everything is so much more exceptionally easier when you're a Malfoy. Also, Draco thinking the word 'smutty' makes me giggle like an insane woman.)
And so Draco found himself alone in the library researching spells that would make him more likeable. Of course, being the Malfoy that he was, he couldn't fathom that maybe it would be better to change his personality rather than cast a spell on everyone to make them like the personality he had now. Malfoys did not change. Everyone else changed for them.
And in Trivial Everyday Spells, Draco found what he was looking for.
Guaranteed to change your life. Unliked? In moments, you will be loved. All you need to do is swish your wand and say 'Likabiliculus.'
(You know there totally has to be a book like that in the HP universe. Probably written by someone like Lockhart.)
"That certainly sounds easy enough," Draco declared cockily, and Madam Pince shot him a glare as she put her finger to her lips.
Draco ran shifty eyes over the library before he headed toward an alcove of bookshelves, his steps a quick glide against the carpet. With another look around, Draco ascertained that he was hidden from Madam Pince's prying eyes.
Draco pointed his wand at himself, and swished the tip gracefully as he said, "Lica-no that's not right...let's see... Likabilicalus."
(I was channeling Ron, there. Draco isn't the type to mispronounce a spell. Normally. But then, this is crack, so what does characterization matter, really?)
A blue light shot from the end of his wand, sending him flying against a bookcase as the light splashed and flooded Hogwarts before disappearing a moment later.
Draco groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up. "That hurt." He looked around eagerly. "Did it work?" He got up and straightened his robes, sticking the book into the pocket of his trousers before stepping out into the open.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Madame Pince hurried over to him, her lips thinned in a disapproving line.
"I'm sorry for the noise, Madame Pince," Draco said, shaking his head in bemusement as Madame Pince licked her lips, her eyes lingering on the pale hand that Draco was currently gesturing with in the air.
"What were you doing?" Madame Pince asked absently, still watching his hand.
"I fell down. Hit my head rather hard. I do believe I'll go to the infirmary now." Draco tried to get past Madame Pince, who hungrily grabbed his hand and licked it.
"What the fuck?" Draco yelled jerking his hand away, wiping it on his robe fastidiously.
(Can you blame him, really? I'd freak out if Madame Pince licked me, too. And now, we begin the Hogwarts of Horror for poor, poor Draco.)
Madame Pince licked her lips nervously, staring at him in horrified fascination. "I had to, you have no idea how much I needed to!"
"Why the hell did you have to lick my hand?" Draco's forehead wrinkled in disdain as he wiped his hand repeatedly on his robe.
"You're just-so--" Madame Pince began to weep. "I just-I wanted to lick you!" Sob. "Oh, Gods, I'm staff, I could be dismissed!"
"Damn right you are!" Draco sneered. "Just wait until I tell Professor Snape!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, still anxiously rubbing his hand on his dark robe. "Honestly, what was with that woman?"
(After Pince, I sat there and thought three questions. The first was: How far can I go with this? Secondly was: what will horrify Draco the most? And third was: What do I find hot? I think it worked surprisingly well.)
Draco slowed his pace and tilted his head to the side.
"Although, she did seem to like me more." He clapped his hands together in fiendish glee. "Ooh, I bet she's a pedophile! Father's been looking for dirt on her for years! And I was the one who discovered her dark little secret!" Draco straightened. This would be the perfect opportunity!! He thought happily. He had been practicing his Terrifying Laugh of Evil™ all summer, and he had been enthusiastically waiting for the perfect time to use The Laugh. Draco quickly looked up and down the halls to ensure his solitude and cackled evilly. The Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™ worked a little too well as it echoed eerily down the stone corridor, and Draco shivered as the torches flickered on the walls. Draco shut his mouth quickly and hummed a bit to himself. I can even scare myself with that laugh! Draco shook his head in amusement and pondered the incident in the library again. His eyes glittered maliciously as a wicked grin appeared on his lips. "I bet that's why the filthy little Mudblood's always in there! I wonder what she does for Madame Pedophile in there to get access to all the books she reads..." Draco shuddered in horror and continued down to the dungeons. Sometimes my imagination is just too good for my peace of mind.
(Oh, Draco, even in cracky stories you're still desperately hungering for your father's affection. And he's trying so hard to prove that he's a big, bad villain who deserves to be called a Death Eater, but he's failing miserably. Seriously, ™? Also, Pince/Hermione squicks me like whoa. Ugh. And dude. He can scare himself? I don't know if that's cowardly or really egotistical.)
He soon noticed, however, that every person he passed eyed a piece of his visible skin and licked his or her lips ravenously. In fact, if his reflexes hadn't been so refined from playing Quidditch, at least two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw would have licked him. There's something wrong here, he deduced as he dodged another Hufflepuff. This particular Hufflepuff had an overactive tongue, though, and the tip of the wet muscle caught the edge of Draco's cheek. The Hufflepuff giggled happily and ran the other way, as Draco wiped at his wet cheek with his sleeve, thoroughly disgusted. "Popular people don't get licked. Someone must have screwed my spell up." Of course, it didn't occur to him that he was the one who had made the mistake. He was a Malfoy-they didn't make mistakes. However, they did occasionally take the scenic route to their destination.
(For some reason, my Draco and my Snape have always had something against Hufflepuffs. I don't know why. It's not like they're bad people! My Slytherins don't have a problem with the 'hard work' bit of Hufflepuff, but they just seem to detest the idea of 'loyalty' over 'excelling'. I don't know. Differences, I guess—that's why they ended up in Slytherin, after all. ♥)
"Professor Snape!" Draco called as he stepped into the Slytherin Common room. "Professor Snape!"
"Professor Snape is in his office," Blaise purred, appearing at Draco's side.
"He's rather busy at the moment, Draco." Draco whirled around to find Pansy on his other side, licking her fingertips.
Draco's robe suddenly dropped from his shoulders, and he felt Millicent press up against his back. "Can we help you with anything, Draco?"
Draco tried to edge away as the three girls closed in around him, and arched an eyebrow. "I thought you girls hated me less than three hours ago?"
"That was different, Draco," Pansy's voice dripped honey. "That was before you became so... lickable."
(Foursome! There really are a lot of multiple partner pairings in this story, now that I think about it.)
As if that was the signal that they were waiting for, Draco suddenly found three tongues tracing their way on his body. Their tongues left slick trails on his skin that chilled him in the cool dungeon air, and he made a face, hating the slimy feel of their saliva. "Get off of me!" Draco howled, shoving at them frantically. "Get off! This is disgusting!!" He pulled away hard and jerked out of their grasp, tumbling over a footstool and smashing his head against the floor. Draco scrabbled up as his vision blurred and fell against the wall, reaching towards the door.
"But Draco!" Millicent called to him. "We like you!"
Draco perked up, rubbing the back of his head. "You do? Really?"
(Oh, Draco. You're so starved for affection. I really kind of pity this version of Draco, even though he's supposed to be funny. How desperate do you really have to be to try a spell in order to get people to like you? What does that say about how you feel about yourself? Poor baby.)
They converged on him like a wave, and he shrieked, turning and running out of the Slytherin basement. He skidded around corners and hid in tiny nooks and crannies, losing them somewhere between the Ravenclaw dormitory and Gryffindor tower. Gasping and cursing at the realization that he was actually out of shape, he made his way to Snape's office, closing the door wearily behind him.
"Draco." Snape was sitting behind his desk, a blonde guest in front of him. The guest turned, and Draco found himself facing his father.
"Draco, you look appalling," Lucius Malfoy drawled as he stood up, looking down at his son.
"What are you doing here?" Draco gasped, too tired to worry about upsetting his father at this particular moment.
"I was talking to the Head of your House, obviously," Lucius answered, and Draco nodded before turning to Snape.
(Honestly, I don't know what Lucius is doing there. I'm inclined to think that Narcissa had a dinner invitation, and Lucius took the opportunity to make a legitimate social call. I'm fond of the idea of Snape and Lucius actually being friends, of a sort. Especially when it's crack and therefore their relationship has nothing plotty involved whatsoever.)
"Professor," Draco walked forward as his breathing calmed, placing his hands on Snape's desk as he looked earnestly at his favorite teacher. "Thank God you don't seem to be affected. It's insane."
Snape gestured that Draco should sit down, and after a nod from Lucius, Draco sat in the chair that his father had previously occupied, staring down at his shaking hands. "Tell me what's going on."
"Professor," Draco began as he shot an uneasy look at his father "Everyone's trying to lick me."
"And?"
"And what? Everyone's trying to lick me. What else do you need to know?"
Snape moved from behind his desk and stood in front of Draco, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk. "Did you like it?"
Draco stared at Professor Snape as if he'd grown another head. "NO! I didn't like it at all! It's horrible, Professor, really it is!"
Lucius' hands came down on Draco's shoulders, and Draco froze, his thoughts crystallizing in realization. "When did Father come to speak with you, Professor?"
Snape took a hold of Draco's hand, turning it over and tracing the fine map of blue veins beneath Draco's skin with a finger. "About an hour and a half ago."
Draco quickly did the calculations in his head, distracted as his father began to stroke his shoulders in gentle, slow movements. The spell was cast an hour ago. Oh, shit. "You're affected by it too, aren't you?"
"If you didn't like it," Lucius leaned closer to Draco as he mused quietly, his warm breath brushing Draco's ear. "Then they were simply not doing it correctly." The older Malfoy's tongue snaked out, brushing the pulse point in Draco's throat. Draco straightened abruptly; a shiver running down his spine as Snape began to suck at his wrist, working his way up the pale arm. Draco arched away from one mouth only to find another in the opposite direction. The two elder men gracefully trailed Draco's flesh with burning licks and tiny bites that alternately caused Draco to gasp and moan.
(Huh, that's interesting. I've just learned something that's been consistent with every Draco I have ever written—his wrists have always been an erogenous zone. Fascinating. Also, gratuitous cursing is dumb. I'm ashamed of myself. Thirdly? I still find this section really hot. Severus/Draco/Lucius really hits my buttons. And, of course, Lucius and Severus would be licking connoisseurs. Why wouldn't they be? *headdesk*)
"This-this is so wrong!" Draco managed to get out as Snape unbuttoned Draco's shirt. I'm not getting turned on by this, I'm not getting turned on by this, this is icky this is bad this is-Draco whimpered as Lucius nipped lightly at his now bare shoulder, lapping at the tender area as Snape started suck on Draco's chest, taking a hardening nipple into the heat of his mouth as Draco tried ineffectually to pull away. "Professor!!" Draco cried out as he heard the fly of his trousers unzip slowly. "Please! You don't-ahhhh-you don't want to-oh!-do this!" Snape's tongue circled around the head of Draco's cock lazily and the boy twitched helplessly in sensation, fire racing through his veins.
"Severus, I need-holy shit!"
(Every time I see this line, I die laughing. There's Lupin, minding his own business, and lo and behold, a student is being molested. Seriously. Crack up every single time I see this line. Also—I've always kind of gotten the feeling that Lupin likes teaching, likes children, and would watch out for any of them if something were wrong. Lastly, I never really thought about the timeline of this story, but the fact that Lupin is a professor obviously places it in third year. OMG I wrote porn for thirteen year olds!! I am obviously beyond all redemption. Holy crap. However, the fact that Harry is visiting Snuffles later on states it has to be fourth year or later. Ha ha. Timelines. I fucked it up hardcore.)
At the sound of the newcomer's voice, Snape looked up, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. "I am currently in the middle of something, Lupin," he hissed. "Go away."
Draco craned his head as far back as possible, looking at Professor Lupin with wide eyes. He never thought that he would be happy that Remus Lupin had come back as the DADA teacher. "Professor Lupin, please-help me..."
"You would do well to stay away from things that don't concern you, wolf," Lucius muttered darkly. Lupin ignored the two men, storming into the room and grabbing Draco's shoulder, pushing Snape away from the boy as he pulled Draco towards the door. Lucius and Snape hissed at Lupin, reaching forward for Draco, who cowered in Lupin's grasp. Lupin tossed Draco behind him and growled at the two men in warning. Draco zipped up his pants and buttoned the first two buttons of his shirt before realizing that there was probably a ninety-five percent chance that Professor Lupin was also affected by the epidemic desire to lick. Draco turned tail and ran.
"Wait!" he heard Lupin call after him, but Draco was too smart for that. He didn't want to be caught between the three of them, no sir. He needed to get the spell off of him immediately. But he had read the pages of the spell intently--the book never spoke of a counter curse. And unfortunately, Draco knew of only one person who was skilled enough to find the answer he needed. I. Hate. Mudbloods.
(Lupin's feelings are hurt here. He obviously goes directly to Dumbledore with this, because dude. Student molestation is not a good thing, and the fact that this was a head of house and a parent? Something's obviously very, very wrong.)
He made his way up to the Gryffindor tower and quietly told the Fat Lady that he needed to speak to Granger. The Fat Lady gave him a simpering smile and turned, vanishing from the portrait, probably going to ask the Mudblood Gryffindor if she wanted to speak to Draco. Less than five minutes later, an especially bushy and slightly panting Granger opened the portrait.
"What do you-"Granger glared, and blinked in surprise. "-want, Malfoy?" she finished breathlessly.
(The first draft, she actually opened the door, already besotted. And then I realized that the spell probably took affect on first sight, which is why she changes her attitude mid sentence.)
"Granger, I need your help." Draco showed her the book. "Can you-I mean, will you..." Draco paused. "Fix it, or I'll hex your teeth again."
(Draco has never said anything as difficult as "I need your help." to Hermione Granger. Not even when he told his father at the end of first year that Slytherin had lost the cup because of Harry Potter.)
"All right, Malfoy," Granger agreed easily. "Come on in." Draco edged into the empty common room and sat gingerly on a red-and-gold armchair as Granger flipped through the book to the page he had marked. Granger laughed, arching her eyebrow. "You wanted to make people like you?" She swallowed her laughter with a small cough and inclined her head. "What did you do, exactly?"
(Hermione obviously has an ulterior motive. But she's not so far gone that she can't appreciate the irony of his situation.)
"I did precisely what it said in the book, Granger," Draco snapped. "A swish of the wand and Likabilicalus."
"Oh!" Granger closed the book with a small thud and handed the volume back to Draco. "Well, that explains your problem completely!" Draco looked at her blankly, and she hastened to explain. "The spell was Likabiliculus, not Likabilicalus. You mispronounced it."
"There must have been a misprint." He declared firmly.
"No, you made a mistake." Granger nodded adamantly.
"I'm a Malfoy." He insisted. "We don't make mistakes."
(Still love the fact that he refuses to accept any responsibility for this whatsoever. He's so lame. ♥)
Granger shrugged. "Then it must be your mother's blood, because you screwed up. But don't worry-the spell has a temporary effect. It won't last more than three hours." Draco glowered at her furiously, and she gave him a shy smile. "Now that I helped you..." she declared hesitantly. "...I can lick you, right? That way you won't owe me anything for helping you. Just one lick. Please?"
Draco sneered in disgust. "No! Like I would let a Mudblood-eww." He shuddered.
Two hands suddenly clamped down on his neck, and Draco had a sudden sense of foreboding. His eyes flew up to find a leering Ronald Weasley standing above him. "'Mione, I've got him!"
(The fact that I trapped Draco between Hermione and Ron traumatizes me even more than I traumatized my muse. We have a strange relationship. I squish and coddle him and then do horrible, horrible things that will scar him forever.)
Fifteen minutes later, Draco fell over the threshold of the portrait, shaking in reaction as he put his weight on the wall of the corridor and made his way down the hall. WEASLEY SPIT!!! Draco's mind shrieked at him. WEASLEY SLOBBERED ALL OVER ME!!! Draco flung out his arms in panic as a small sob escaped his lips. He wiped furiously at his damp skin with his shirt. His chest heaved with his frenzied breaths. AND MUDBLOOD DROOL!!! Draco decided at that moment to find a classroom to collapse in. He was not going to allow himself to be cornered by another person until this spell had run out, and that was final. His skin crawled, and he trembled again in reaction. God, that's going to feature in my nightmares for years.
(Okay. Here's a confession. Ever since I discovered that Blaise was a) definitely a guy and b) definitely hot, and then trained by
nonewwitticisms to lust after him unconditionally, I have plotted to give Blaise his own little porn section. Therefore, it would be Daphe in the previous Blaise sections, and then Blaise would get his own introductory scene where he was slinky and best friend-y and did not prove or disprove whether he hated Draco or not. And then his pr0n scene would go right here. Draco goes into the bathroom to wash the slimy spit off, and when he comes out, Blaise happens to be there for one thing or another, probably because he saw a glimpse of Draco and wondered what the hell he was doing now. Because this Draco has several questionable habits, and it's become rote for this Blaise to save Draco from himself.For example—Draco had a tendency to drink water from the well in the graveyard. He doesn't do that anymore because Blaise told him he was barmy, and that he shouldn't do it anymore. If not for Blaise, Draco would have far fewer brain cells.
So, yes. In my brain canon, Harry gets sloppy seconds now.)
Draco oh-so-carefully made his way down the halls, dodging students as they went along their way, holding his breath so that they couldn't hear him, and doing absolutely nothing that would draw attention to him. His eyes brightened as he entered an empty hallway, and he noticed the inviting doorway of an unoccupied classroom. Six steps away.... five steps ... four steps.... Draco's breathing sped up hopefully as he made his way across the hallway. Two steps... he slammed into something invisible and froze. "What the hell?" Draco put a hand in front of him, surprised to feel the silkiness of cloth. He jerked the invisible cloth from the air, and gave a half-choked laugh. "Potter. Of course. My day would not be complete without you."
Harry Potter blinked owlishly at Draco, frowning. Seeing as the rest of Potter's body was invisible, Potter's floating head entertained Draco briefly. "What happened to you, Malfoy?" he sputtered finally. Draco looked down to find his new button-up shirt was missing some buttons, revealing his muscled chest and stomach, and that the fine fabric had turned transparent on his damp skin.
(I love Harry in this story. Everything he does, I want to squish. And he's so obviously not affected by the spell that I don't know why Draco doesn't pick up on it to begin with!)
Draco attempted his Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™, and stopped as the corner of Potter's mouth twitched. "What?"
"What the hell was that, Malfoy?" Potter shook his head in amusement.
"That was my Terrifying Laugh of Evil ™, Potter!" Draco exclaimed in outrage. "You can't laugh at that!! I've been practicing it all summer!"
"Oh!" Potter paused, tilting his head as he looked at Draco. "So instead of working on getting yourself a decent personality, you spent all summer working on your I'm a Sodding Wanker Cackle ™. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
(I know, intellectually, that Harry wins at snark more often than Draco does. But it still shocks me when my muse proves it.)
Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he made his way into the empty classroom, implicitly knowing that Potter would follow him. "You know what, Potter? I don't care anymore. So go ahead."
"Huh?" Potter scratched his head, shying away from Draco. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm telling you that I know you want to lick me, Potter. So go ahead. It'll be the perfect ending to a bloody perfect day." He turned to his rival expectantly.
Potter had paled his jade eyes wide behind his glasses. "Who-who told you??" he choked out, and Draco shrugged elegantly, tossing a hand up into the air.
"Everyone wants to lick me, Potter. Why should you be any different? So do it." Draco extended a hand and waited patiently while Potter gaped.
"Y-you're mad." Potter stuttered.
"Listen, there's no reason to deny it. Just do it before I start ignoring you." Draco waved his hand imperiously as Potter stared.
"Are-are you sure?" Potter hesitated again, and Draco rolled his eyes, sitting at one of the desks and putting his head on the cool surface. There was the sound of a small movement, and Draco stiffened as Potter raised his hand up in the air. Draco inhaled sharply as Potter sucked a finger into his mouth, Potter's tongue indolently tracing circles on the pad of Draco's fingertip. Once Potter finished with one finger, he went to the next, slowly giving each finger the same attention. Draco swallowed painfully, his throat suddenly dry as he raised his head. Potter had his eyes closed, and he made a small sound of contentment as his lips trailed down to Draco's wrist. What is everyone's fascination with my hands? Draco wondered as he continued to watch Potter lick at his wrist. Somehow, he wasn't as disturbed by the fact that Potter was licking him as he was when Professor Snape had been licking him... and Potter was really good at it, too. Damp without drooling; heat; teasing, cool breaths, and just a touch of pain with a scrape of his teeth. A tiny sound must have given him away, because Potter opened his eyes and raised his head to look at Draco, who, not to be outdone, stared back just as intently.
(Oh, god, why did I think this was passable? I hate writing porn. I need to stop doing it. Also, everyone has a fascination with Draco's hands because I have a fascination with Draco's hands. The end.)
Suddenly, Potter's mouth was on his, hot and silky, demanding entrance as he pinned the blond boy to his seat. Draco gasped in surprise and Potter's tongue swept into his mouth, tangling their tongues together as he tugged impatiently on Draco's hair, slanting his head for better access. Well, Draco thought muzzily, his hands reaching up to cling to the boy who was so passionately exploring his mouth. No one else has thought to lick inside my mouth today. Draco suddenly found himself deposited on the edge of the desk, his shirt fluttering off his shoulders to lie in a pile on the ground. Potter abandoned Draco's mouth to bite a path to his shoulder, exploring the planes of the pale boy's back with his hands as he nibbled and sucked at Draco's skin.
(Oh, yes. Harry is both clever and horny. Draco hero-worships him a bit, honestly, although he will genuinely commit suicide before he lets even the breath of that suggestion become common knowledge.)
Draco moaned, clinging to Potter and knocking the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders as his hands crept under Potter's shirt to explore the unknown territory of skin that lay beneath the rough cotton. Potter nearly purred in satisfaction, his stubby nails streaking down Draco's back and urging the other boy closer. Draco's legs looped around Potter's waist, and Potter thrust against him, a groan escaping both their lips at the heated friction.
This is way beyond licking. A suddenly lucid voice in Draco's head piped up. He's using his hands. He's doing all this stroking and thrusting stuff and oh my god THAT was NOT his tongue!
Will you shut up? Draco snarled at the small voice as Potter fumbled with the belt on Draco's trousers. Draco arched off of the table to help Potter remove the layers of clothing he was wearing.
(Awww. I keep hearing a sort of Jiminy Cricket type thing going on here. That inner voice is totally his conscience. Or his common sense. God, the kid is messed up. Also, first attempts at smut writing are awful. Ugh. Also, Harry Potter is like a train—it takes him forever to stop once he starts something. You'd think he'd want a date first, but no. It's immediately to the point of 'please allow me to stick my dick in your arse.' Only without the please.)
Whatever happened to the Draco Malfoy code of How to Deal With Harry Potter? The voice demanded frantically. Isn't the one and only rule to Make Potter's Life a Living Hell? Draco gave a half-choked whimper as Potter's hand closed around his erection, helplessly thrusting up against that hand as Potter laughed huskily.
(I am also very fond of the fact that Draco has a code of conduct that he uses for dealing with Harry Potter, even if it does end up being completely useless.)
"Liked that, did you, Malfoy?" Potter's voice was dark and smoky with desire as he licked at Draco's ear. Draco gave an affirming gasp as Potter's hand tightened around him.
DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOU'RE MAKING POTTER'S LIFE A LIVING HELL RIGHT NOW? The voice screeched indignantly.
I've changed my mind! Draco mentally panted at the voice. My new Draco Malfoy code of How to Deal With Harry Potter is: If It Feels Good, Don't Stop!
There was a moment of mental silence as Draco thrust against Potter again, shivering as something warm and slick entered him gently. Oh. The voice muttered weakly. Well, if you changed the code...
(The fact that his common sense gives way so easily makes me cackle madly. Favorite line in the story, for serious.)
The voice went silent as Draco clutched at Potter's shoulders biting at the pulsing flesh of Potter's throat. "Don't stop, Potter!" Draco commanded, rubbing against the other boy feverishly. Potter's wand-was that his wand?-brushed a spot inside him that sent flashes of pleasure zinging through his body, and he sucked in a deep breath as his eyes flew open.
"Wantedthiswantedyoucan'tbelieve-" Potter's words were pressed against Draco's chest, murmured as he touched skin and sweat, tossing his wand off to the side.
"Oh, God," Draco murmured, clawing at Potter's arms. "Potter-Potter-look at me!" Draco pulled Potter's head up and stared into glazed jade eyes.
"Yes, Malfoy?" Potter asked breathlessly, his eyes unfocused, as he had lost his glasses somewhere in the middle of their impassioned groping.
"You're not under the spell, are you?" Draco exhaled.
(Took him long enough, don't you think?)
Potter's eyes were guileless. "What spell, Malfoy? Was it another dismal failure like your Sodding Wanker Cackle?" He wriggled against Draco and his hands drifted down to cup Draco's backside.
"You're doing this...because you want to?" Draco asked incredulously, blinking as Potter laughed and licked at Draco's mouth.
(Poor Draco. For all his blustering, he's honestly surprised. No one ever does anything with him because they want to.)
"Aren't you?"
Well, technically... why am I doing this? Hormones. Pure hormones. Draco didn't bother to answer Potter, deigning instead to bridge the small gap between them with his lips. He moaned as Potter inserted a finger into him and slowly continued to stretch him. "You are taking too long!" Draco gritted out.
"I-I don't want to hurt you," Potter stammered.
(Harry's trying not to break the mood here, because he's smart and wants sex and knows that if he does something Draco doesn't like, Draco will go mercurial on him and curse him instead of bottom for him.)
Draco grinned and fumbled at Potter's belt. "You won't. Do me now, Potter." Draco threw his arms around Potter's neck and they overbalanced, Potter landing heavily in the chair beside the desk.
(Honestly, Draco's mocking Harry, because seriously, Harry is treating Draco like a fragile flower. Also, "do me now" is so painfully bodice-ripper talk, which I also find funny and awful. Draco!muse hated me for writing this story. I kind of hate myself a little, too.)
Potter gave a pained grunt as Draco landed on him. "You need to work on a diet, Malfoy," Potter muttered breathlessly, and Draco glared at him.
"It's not my fault that you aren't competent enough to handle my masculine strength." Draco declared loftily, pulling Potter's pants down eagerly.
(The image of this sentence cracks me up. Masculine strength! I shall use it to yank your trousers down!)
"Your masculine strength?" Potter snorted as Draco looked at his cock dubiously.
"You're that small?" He asked in a confused voice, and Potter glowered.
(Draco obviously doesn't have the vaguest clue about what's he's saying. Moron.)
"I'm not!" Potter exclaimed, flushing brightly. "Honestly, Malfoy-"
"Forget it." Draco waved it away and touched the purplish head curiously. He grinned at Potter's abrupt intake of breath, and gave him a superior look. "Now, do that lubricating thing again." Potter looked as if he couldn't decide between laughing and leaving, and performed the lubrication charm on himself as Draco edged closer. "Now," Draco murmured in concentration. "This shouldn't be that difficult at all." Draco impaled himself roughly on Potter's erection and hissed, tensing immediately. "Forget what I said, Potter," Draco seethed as pain rippled through him. "You're too big--"
(And this was me telling the audience that Draco had absolutely no idea what the hell he was talking about. Moron.)
Potter pulled Draco closer, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Shh," Potter murmured, trembling from the effort of keeping still. "Relax. It'll hurt more if you're all tense."
"And how did you become such a fount of erotic knowledge?" Draco spat, and Potter flushed again.
"I... um... did some reading." He muttered bashfully, and Draco rolled his eyes. Now that he thought about it, however, the discomfort wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, and he tightened his muscles experimentally. Potter's whimper was more than enough of a result, and Draco sniggered.
(I love the idea of Harry reading about gay sex and trying to hide it from Hermione. Also, it says so much about their relationship that the more I write them, the more inclined I am to think that Draco will totally laugh at Harry, even if he's the one losing his virginity.)
"Having a bit of trouble, Potter?" he snickered, and Potter remained silent, his hands wandering to Draco's hips and guiding him upward. Draco gasped, at the slide of movement inside of him and instinctively moved downward to meet Potter's thrust. Potter's hands stroked up Draco's sides, and Draco inhaled harshly, his head tilting back to expose his throat to a heated lick. Pleasure so intense it ached spread through Draco's body as Potter thrust into him, and he could swear that his blood had turned molten, following the scorching path of Potter's hands. Draco pressed his mouth to Potter's as they arched together--he supposed he was trying to kiss Potter, but he was really much more interested in the feelings generating from their bodies' union, and ended up gasping against his lips instead. Draco never had been good at multitasking.
Draco's hands wandered over Potter's shoulders, scratching at his skin and biting at Potter's lower lip in delight as he arched again, enthralled by the feeling of sweat and skin and the way desire was throbbing through his body in time with his heartbeat. Potter's hand closed around Draco's erection tightly, and Draco's hips rolled, thrusting into the touch. Each short, tight stroke of Potter's hand against his flesh drew a breathless gasp from Draco's mouth, and Draco came abruptly with a shuddering sigh, slumping bonelessly against Potter's chest. Potter's face rested in the curve of Draco's shoulder, sucking at the skin as he thrust haphazardly, losing his rhythm as he climaxed, Draco's body spasming around him in ecstasy.
Draco groaned as Potter brushed back a lock of his hair, flicking a trail of sweat away from his temple. Draco was so weak that he couldn't move, and as Potter seemed averse to separating at the moment as well, Draco thought it was nice that they were agreeing on something for once. Draco relished in the feeling of Potter's skin against his, thinking with a vague sleepiness that Potter was better at sex than he'd expected, and that the feeling of Potter inside him was rather agreeable.
(Ugh. First time writing pr0n is bad. Bad, bad, bad.)
Wait.
Potter. Inside of him.
(Of course, this is instantly when he think about his chorus of fangirls. In the common room, the girls all sneeze. < /Japanese joke>)
"No. I didn't." Draco whimpered, and Potter raised his head, smiling drowsily up at him.
"Didn't what?" Potter yawned, and his head dropped back onto Draco's shoulder.
"I wasn't on top." He whined.
"Yes, you were. Who's sitting on whom?" Potter raised his head again and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"You are up my arse. The girls were right." Draco blinked, biting his lip in distress. "Oh, gods, if they ever find out about this my father won't be the only thing they fantasize about. Next it'll be you, and then---the Weasel---and then---then they'll go onto Professor Hooch and my broom--"
(Draco has such a perverted imagination. Harry wants no part of this conversation.)
"Wh-what?" Potter sputtered. "What on earth are you talking about??" He shoved at Draco irritably. "Get off me."
Draco scrambled off of Potter and made a face at the sticky mess on his chest from when he'd ejaculated on himself and Harry, and jerked on his clothes, tugging his hair into place anxiously.
"Now, would you care to tell me what this spell you were jabbering on about is?" Potter inquired as he dressed.
"No." Draco stated immediately, yanking on his shirt and staring angrily at the lack of buttons. "My god, that Mudblood is strong. Potter," Draco muttered peevishly. "When you get back to the common room, will you kindly search for my buttons? This was a brand new shirt that your friends ruined."
(I love the idea that it was Hermione that ripped his shirt to shreds. Ron just sat and slavered, and Hermione totally did all the work. This is also the first clue that actually gets through Harry's hormones.)
"My friends?" Potter squeaked, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. "What on earth do my friends have to do with you?"
"Never mind!" Draco snapped, and jerked off his shirt to clean up the mess on his chest. He glared at Potter and tossed him the shirt. "Might as well-it's already ruined. Tell me what time it is."
"It's about four, Malfoy," Potter shook his head as he wiped himself clean. "Why?"
Draco yawned widely, his jaw popping at the movement. "I still have half an hour, then. I'm going to sleep."
"You're what? Here?"
"Potter, are you especially stupid today for some reason?" Draco snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I knew you were mental, but I never thought you were slow."
"Jeez, Malfoy." Potter muttered defensively. "I'm sorry if I'm not thinking to your standards. I just had amazing sex, if you didn't know."
Draco grinned, his chest puffing out in pride. "Yes, I was rather spectacular, wasn't I?" Potter began to laugh, and Draco huffed in disgust. "Forget it. A Gryffindor. I need to go for psychiatric counseling." Draco shook his head and gave Potter an icy glance. "I am going to sleep. You are going to leave me in peace."
(I made a mistake here. Draco doesn't even know what psychiatric counseling is. I hate making rookie mistakes. Also. 'Amazing' first time sex? Please. Harry's so lucky I was lame enough not to think about what sex between to virgins was probably going to be like. I say that Harry has the stamina to get Draco off because a) Draco's got a hair trigger, and b) lots of masturbation. *headdesk*)
"Wait-" Potter began hesitantly. "I mean-what's going to happen now... that we..." Draco looked at Potter curiously for a moment, and Potter flushed, gesturing at their rumpled states.
Draco snorted. "It was sex, Potter. It's not like I joined that Phoenix Order or got disinherited." Draco paused in horror. "Although I might be after today..."
(Oh, god. Harry's transition to 'yay we just had sex' to 'obviously that means we're boyfriends now! ♥' kills me dead. I don't know why he thinks that way, but all Harry's that aren't Dark!Harry in my brain definitely have that switch. Like when he went to the Halloween Ball with Padma in
_slippingaway_. 'We danced, she's my girlfriend yay!♥' Sometimes I find Harry ridiculously adorable.As for Draco, I kept telling him that if he just let Snape and Lucius go all the way, he could have milked their horror over their actions for years. He didn't appreciate that in the least.)
"Oh." Harry's voice was small. "So, it doesn't change anything..."
(Harry's heart is broken. Draco is disgusted that apparently he really isn't the girl in this relationship.)
"Oh, for crying out loud, you sod." Draco exclaimed, shaking his head. "We can be... fuck buddies or something. Just go away so I can sleep." Draco curled up into a corner, shivering as the cold stone touched his bare back, and shut his eyes tightly, wrapping his arms around himself. It was quiet for several minutes, and Draco began to drift off despite the chill in the air. Sex really was more tiring than he'd expected.
Then, suddenly, a cloak was draped over his shoulders, and fingers brushed gently against his hair. "Goodnight, Draco," Potter whispered softly, and he left the room. Draco pulled the warm cloak closer, prying open an eye and sighing as he saw the unmarked garment resting over him. He left to get a cloak to keep me warm? Draco wrapped the cloak around him tightly, and took a deep breath. It smelled of chocolate and soap-it smelled like Harry Potter. Draco snuggled into the warmth and thought, just for a moment, that something might have changed between them after all.
(Harry thinks: If I can be the perfect boyfriend, he'll keep me!
Draco thinks: I wonder how much he'll try to appease me if I go hot and cold on him all the time?
And also denies, of course, that he's had any charitable thoughts about Harry or any expectations of change in their relationship whatsoever.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco woke up about an hour after Potter had left him and, clutching at the cloak, made his way down to his dorm for a shower. After getting clean and changing clothes, Draco felt much better-after all, no Malfoy was ever willingly dirty for more than an hour or two, and Draco had been dying to get the smell of stale sex off of his skin.
(I still love his whole 'Malfoys don't do this, they do this' mentality. He's such an idiot. I love him.)
His stomach growled ferociously, and he stalked down the halls, sending angry glares at everyone he saw. Quite a few students glared back at him, and a couple turned green and scraped at their tongue anxiously. Up ahead, he saw Potter and his little entourage.
"You're so lucky you were visiting Snuffles today, Harry." Weasel was saying with a shudder.
"Apparently." Potter agreed. "What's this whole thing that's got everyone so upset anyway?"
"That stupid Malfoy," Granger huffed, her shoulders shaking as she shot a narrow-eyed look across the corridor. "He can't even cast a spell right. Apparently, he just discovered that everyone hated him-how dense can someone be?-and decided that a spell would make everyone like him instead. And he messed up and had the audacity to come to me to fix it. Me!"
"He messed up?" Potter wondered. "So... what happened?"
"The idiot mispronounced the spell!" Granger raged. "And instead of becoming likeable, he became...ah... lickable."
"Malfoy." Potter said slowly. "Became lickable." Draco could almost see the wheels turning inside Potter's head, and Potter laughed abruptly. "And here I thought I was just being sarcastic when I accused him of spending the summer on his cackle instead of his personality."
"When did you do that?" Weasel wondered, and Potter waved the thought away, scratching absently at his neck. "Mordred!" Weasel yelped, yanking at Potter's hand and staring at the scratches on Potter's neck. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, these scratches?" Harry blushed. "I got attacked by a rabid ferret."
Draco glowered. I'm a rabid ferret, am I? He wondered, and shoved between the group, shooting a dirty look at the three of them. "Out of my way."
(Draco feels absolutely used here. Not even three hours after Harry Potter, of all people, takes his virginity, and he's already getting smack talked about him. I understand how he feels, but I also know that Harry's totally in 'Yay, Draco's my boyfriend' land, and he doesn't want Hermione and Ron to spoil it for him. It would be a lot easier for both of them if there was such a thing as communication. But talking? For them? Please.
At any rate, Draco's trying really hard not to show how hurt he is by this talk, which is why the next sentence comes out of his mouth before he even thinks about it. 'Ha, Potter, I'll show you that I'm absolutely not affected by what you said and did by inviting Granger to the next dance! Take that!'
Harry is amused, instead of appropriately guilty.)
"Yikes!" Ron yelped, jumping away. "What d'you want, Malfoy?"
"I don't want anything, Weasel." Draco snarled. "Actually, I changed my mind. I want financial recompense for the emotional trauma you put me through."
"That I put you through?" Ron yelled. "What about Hermione? She licked you too!"
Harry choked.
"From Granger," Draco hissed. "I expect a new shirt. Or--" he added as an after thought, glaring at Harry and Ron malevolently. "You can be my date to the Yule ball this year."
(All things considered, the request for a new shirt isn't that inappropriate. I was impressed he was so reasonable.
Also, watch me be lame and just naturally assume there'd be another dance. God. I was awful to canon in this story.)
Granger stopped dead. "What?"
"You heard me. If you can manage to look decent with Krum as your date, with my money behind you, you'll be even better this year."
(Draco acts as though he thinks Krum is sub par and beyond hope, but really, he liked him a lot. He's just talking a lot without his brain in this section.)
Hermione blinked. "But-but-I'm a Muggle-born!"
Draco paused. "Why, yes, you are. So I guess that just leaves you the option of paying for my shirt." Draco stormed into the Great Hall and stomped over to the Slytherin table.
"Insufferable!" Weasel shouted at him as the trio made their way towards the Gryffindor table.
"And the Weasel knows big words too!" Draco shouted back. He glowered at them a final time for good measure and turned his eyes to his plate. Little by little, the rest of the students wandered into the Great Hall for dinner, pointing to Draco and whispering among themselves. Draco looked up at the teachers' table just in time to see Professor Snape go red with anger. God, Draco hated everyone.
(Just add Blaise to this scene, leaning and smirking around. It makes it much prettier.)
When the last of the students sat down, Dumbledore stood up, his eyes still retaining the cheerful glint that was ever present. "Mr. Malfoy."
Draco suppressed a groan and stood up. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"It has come to my attention that you have had a very eventful afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."
"You could say that, Headmaster," Draco agreed. "It was rather more colorful than usual, wasn't it?"
(This nice and agreeable conversation that Draco and Dumbledore have here just kills me. Because of course we can count on Dumbledore to be blasé about the whole thing!)
Dumbledore looked at Draco over the half-moons of his spectacles. "As the students most likely know what's going on, I'll refrain from explaining the situation and go directly to your punishment instead." Dumbledore looked at Professor Snape and smiled. "Professor Snape asked me to put Slytherin House negative in points, but I think that's rather harsh, considering the fact that you meant no harm... However, I must impress on you the severity of your actions. Therefore, I will remove one hundred and fifty points from Slytherin. But for your daring escape from the Slytherin girls," Dumbledore looked at Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise, who blushed furiously, "I award you twenty-five points." Snape turned purple.
(This was when I was in my period of thinking that Dumbledore could be a fair headmaster. You totally know he'd be amused and award points for daring escapes—he already did it for Harry in canon.)
"Thank you, sir." Draco smirked at his housemates, and ducked a plate that Pansy threw at him.
"Temper, temper, Miss Parkinson," Dumbledore admonished. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, I must tell you that I am disappointed in your behavior concerning Professor Lupin. If you had read the manuscript completely, you would have noticed that the spell you used does not affect Dark Creatures."
"How was I to know?" Draco demanded. "All I knew was that I didn't want to be caught between three old perverts!"
(The smart students start putting two and two together to make four. Lupin's feelings are hurt. Snape wants to commit suicide. Lucius has already gone home to break into Narcissa's chocolate stash.)
Snape averted his eyes, and Dumbledore nodded shrewdly. "Keep that in mind for any...later inconveniences." Draco nodded, and Dumbledore looked down at a scrap of parchment next to his plate. "Before he left, your father asked me to tell you that you will not be permitted to come home for Christmas holidays this year."
(Every time I read that line, 'later inconveniences' I think: What does Dumbledore think Draco is?? Does he just expect him to have this kind of issue again? I mean, seriously, I think this is a funny line, but what does it mean? Gah!)
"All right." Draco nodded. "I had expected to be disinherited, actually." There was an explosive cough from the Gryffindor table. Everyone turned to see Harry Potter coughing, with the Weasel and Mudblood pounding on his back. A murmur rose from the students, and Draco shrank away from the eyes for an instant before straightening in irritation. Why does everyone think this was my fault? He wondered, glaring at Potter before turning back to Dumbledore.
(Yes, Harry just got it. I blame the sex on how slow his brain is running on innuendo.)
"You also have a month of detention with Professor Lupin. He will give you the details later." Draco nodded numbly at Dumbledore's words. "Did you learn anything from your adventures today, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco paused, and then looked over at Harry, who looked serenely back at him, fully recovered from his coughing fit, a hint of a smile playing on his mouth. Rabid ferret, my arse, Draco thought, and suddenly found himself nodding. "Yes, I did, Headmaster."
"Would you care to share with the rest of us, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Actually, I would." Draco placed his palms on the Slytherin table, and swept his eyes over his fellow students before staring intently at Potter. Potter's eyes widened, and he tried to slouch down in his seat. "I learned," Draco drawled mildly, smirking at Potter. "That Harry Potter has a very talented tongue."
(Harry totally knew that Draco was going to do something that made him want to die. Of course, Draco's revenge plans never go quite the way he wants them to, so he doesn't think at all about what that sentence says about him. Oh, honey. Don't worry. Blaise will mock and protect you. ♥
Anyway, so that's that. I don't have anything to say, other than I hate Amanda for asking me to do this. Not really. But maybe just a little.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~