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It hadn’t been a particularly good day for the Gryffindor. He had fallen asleep in transfiguration and McGonagall transfigured him into a Buzzsaw he was snoring so loudly. Then, Snape handed back their potions essays, and, at the top of his, was a big, red check minus. Hermione had offered to help him for the next one, but Harry, clearly distraught, snatched up his bag and proceeded to storm out of the classroom.
Snape’s words rattled around in his head.
Clearly fame isn’t everything.
Harry’s cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red that creeped all the way up under the collar of his robe. He huffed, disgruntled, and wrapped his fingers around the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
When he got through the corridor that led out into the courtyard, his bad luck only got worse. The rain outside was coming down in sheets.
“Great. Just perfect.”
He spat, pulling the hood of his robe over his head as he began to make a mad dash across the courtyard.
A gust of wind kicked up water from a puddle on the ground and whizzed right past Harry’s face, obscuring his view for a moment or two.
In those few lost seconds, he managed to trip over whatever was obscuring his path and he fell in the open space, his notebooks and spell books tumbling from his arms into the mud.
That was when Harry heard a scathing laugh.
“Oh, poor pitiful Potter! Why don’t you watch where you’re going, Potter!”
Harry ground his teeth, groping for his glasses. He groaned when he replaced his spectacles on the bridge of his nose and noticed a long, thin crack right through the middle of the left lens.
He began pushing himself up out of the mud, the entire front of his robe covered in the thick, brown sludge.
“Wow, didn’t know you were capable of alliteration, Draco. What? Have you been taking Hermione up on those tutoring sessions?”
“As if I’d give a second of my time to that mudblood!”
Harry spun on his heel, a scowl ripping his face in half as he glared at the Slytherin, who was safe and dry under his conjured umbrella.
“Why don’t you just sod off! Don’t you have anything better to do?!”
“Hmm…no.”
Harry blew a huff of air out of his nostrils. He was livid. This was just turning out to be a real humdinger of a day.
He was cold, wet, and miserable. And that was before he had run into Malfoy.
“Can I go now?”
Draco smirked, his upper lip twitching.
“You’re pathetic.”
Harry snarled.
“Really, Potter? I’m not the one dripping with mud. Honestly, you look like a servant. And, well, well, well. What is this?”
Draco stooped to pull a drenched, curling stack of papers from the mudpuddle. He propped his “umbrella” over his shoulder as he flicked through them, clicking his tongue.
“My, my, my. It appears that Professor Snape was right.”
Draco used his extra four inches of height to his advantage, peering down the bridge of his slender nose at Harry.
“Clearly fame isn’t everything.”
He mocked.
Harry sighed. He could’ve simply carried on this rubbish with Malfoy, flinging the insults left and right. Instead, he dusted off the front of his robe, using a quick cleaning spell to sort out that kerfuffle.
“Whelp, Malfoy,”
Harry started, throwing his hands into the air.
“You’ve done it again. You’ve really taken the piss out of me.”
Draco’s cool grey eyes narrowed some.
“You’re all spic and span again. Wouldn’t it just be a right shame if you were to get all muddy again?”
The Slytherin kicked through the puddle in front of him, drenching Harry once again who was too slow to block the wave of brown water.
“Oh really? That’s how you’re going to be?”
Draco only smiled.
Harry had to suppress a childish shriek, balling his hands into fists at his sides.
“That is bloody it, Malfoy! I was already having a right sham of a day and now I am absolutely, properly, and potently brassed off!”
Harry had practically screamed the sentence, his breath escaping him in huffs, and his face was surely red as the scarlet in his loose cravat.
However, his outburst of rage seemed to only amuse the Slytherin even further.
“Dear me, Potter. Who knew that such a filthy little rat would have such posh vernacular. You could almost pass as…”
He took a moment to think.
“Well, me, perhaps.”
Harry ground his teeth. This was the last straw.
“Oh, belt up, Malfoy!”
“My, my. It seems as if you are positively chessed off, Potter.”
Harry stepped closer, stomping through a mudpuddle.
“Really? What was your first clue?”
Draco smirked cruelly.
“I never thought that this would be so amusing.”
He chortled.
“You prat!”
Harry spat. He had had quite enough of this.
“I’m leaving. Have fun, Draco.”
Harry accio’d his books and made to be on his way when he felt a sharp dig in his arm, and saw Draco’s slender fingers wound around the appendage.
“Did I say you could go anywhere?”
Harry blew a hard breath out of his nose. He yanked at his arm.
“What are you on about? Get off! Do I look like your bleeding pussy or something, to be ordered about?”
Draco licked his upper lip, turning about.
“You look absolutely…. delicious all riled up like this, Potter.”
“What?!”
Harry barked, pulling at his arm once again, stepping backwards. But Draco only stepped forward.
Draco’s eyes had gone all dark and hooded. He moved even closer.
Harry’s breathing had hitched. He swallowed thickly, stepping backwards. Draco turned on him like a dog, caging Harry in against the wall. He lowered his wand, the umbrella fading away in a twinkle of white sparks.
Draco’s hands came on either side of Harry, and he smirked, the smarmy git. He was enjoying this.
Harry opened his mouth, reaching down towards his pocket for his wand. His green eyes widened incredulity when he didn’t find it there.
“Where is your wand, Potter?”
Draco’s breath was hot on Harry’s face, which had gone cool and pale. Rain drops still lingered in his brows and eyelashes.
The Gryffindor couldn’t manage to offer a snide remark. His mouth simply hung open as he arched his neck, staring into the Slytherin’s dark eyes.
“Where is your wand, Potter?”
Draco repeated. Harry figured the time for being civil was over and was right about to say that the wand was most likely shoved up Draco’s tight arse when he felt Malfoy’s hand come down and cup his crotch.
His green eyes blew wide, a breath getting lodged in his throat.
“Hgh-Draco!”
“Like that, Potter?”
“No!”
Harry shrieked. The thin-lipped smirk on Draco’s face only grew.
And that wasn’t the only think that grew.
Harry felt himself get hard, his dick beginning to ache and hang heavily between his legs.
Well, wasn’t this just sixes and sevens.
Draco turned his eyes up to Harry’s.
“Well clearly your stiffy here says otherwise.”
“Sod you!”
Harry growled though his teeth.
“Oh, would you just relax, Potter? It’s not like I’d do this for just anyone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harry gasped as Draco squeezed his prick even harder.
As much as he wanted to deny it, oh how he wanted to deny it!, some horribly demented part of him was enjoying being fondled by Draco Malfoy in the archway.
“It means exactly what you think it means.”
Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s cheek, running his tongue up the flesh.
“God, you taste amazing.”
“Excuse me?”
Harry started, but the sentence instantly halted when he felt Draco roll his hips forward into his own.
Clearly, he had found Draco’s wand.
A breathy moan escaped the Gryffindor, which only added fuel to Malfoy’s fire.
“How could I ever have guessed that the Boy Who Lived liked it quick and dirty?”
“Oh, shut up, Malfoy!”
Harry gasped, tugging the Slytherin forward to crash their lips together, enveloping Draco’s tongue with his lips. He sucked hard on the other boy’s muscle, picking up faint hints of peppermint.
Now it was Draco’s turn to moan. The sound vibrated though Harry’s mouth and throat. The hold on Harry’s crotch only got tighter.
Harry got the strangest combination of feelings all at once as Draco squeezed tighter. Mercilessly. It was like having to piss and throw up all at once accompanied by the most delicious feeling of warmth and pleasure building in his belly.
He found himself actually moaning Malfoy’s name. Voluntarily.
He tipped his head back, Draco’s free hand loosening the tie even more, ripping aside the collar of Harry’s shirt with some animosity as he sucked what would surely be a bruise into the Gryffindor’s neck.
Harry had never splashed out as much as he did in that moment. With Draco’s mouth on his neck and his fingers dexterously teasing him, it was like heaven.
The Slytherin’s lips were right up against the blunt edge of Harry’s jawline, caressing the structure as he worked loose the closure on the other’s trousers.
Harry’s breath hitched again as he felt Draco’s fingers slither inside and begin to tease him through his pants. He pressed the flat of his hand against Harry’s bloated length, practically drawing a scream out of the Gryffindor.
“A screamer as well? This is just brilliant.”
Harry made off to say something, but the hostile words melted into a delighted moan as his orgasm only back built. His eyelids fluttered as he carded his fingers through Draco’s slick blond hair, pulling at the threads aggressively.
The heat between Harry’s thighs only intensified. He yanked Draco forward quite forcibly by his neck, nearly knocking their foreheads together as he swallowed down the Slytherin’s tongue which muffled his moan as he came.
Harry should have been downright ashamed, coming in his pants like he was. But he didn’t feel a lick of embarrassment as he shot forth his hot, wet load.
A self-satisfied smirk graced his lips as he fell slack against the wall, sated. For it wasn’t long after his own glorious release that he heard a melodious set of grunts from Malfoy, who must have just done the same.
The Slytherin was huffing breaths in and out, resting his forehead against Harry’s, blond hair clinging to it with beads of sweat. He drew Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth in a chaste kiss before he pulled back.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco’s brow furrowed, his nose wrinkling. He tuned, walking away before spinning about on his heel.
“Glorified brat!”
Harry, who had been doing up his trousers, gaped.
“Spoiled ferret!”
Draco smirked, and Harry felt a small smile creep up into his own face.
That was about as close as they were going to get to saying something nice. Really it was a compliment.
They parted ways across the courtyard, Harry grassing a glance over his shoulder at Malfoy, who’s porcelain skin was singed red.
He should have felt violated. Instead he felt…
Harry shook his head.
No. Absolutely not.
Draco Malfoy did not fancy him.
Did he?