*drumroll* :P
Jul. 7th, 2005 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyvaderSoooooo...... ;) bout a MILLION years ago I wrote a lil fic called 'Struck', so ok, its more like TWO million years ago but bear with me ;) I've got comp access again and am firing on all porn cylinders :P
This, would be the newest installment and for those who've been waiting on it, I'm very VERY sorry for the wait :) lol and for those in need of a recap *cringe* it having been over a year between postings and all ;) Here ya go & I hope its enjoyed.
Struck 1
Struck 2
Struck 3
Struck 4
Struck 5
Title: Struck 6: Control.
Author: LadyVader
Archive: Always ask the author first please.
Pairing/s: H/D.
Summary: It’s not nice to tease…
Rating: NC17 I guess... shocker, huh? ;)
Warnings: Bad Language, and SLASH! Flee li'l homophobes... Fleeeeeeeeeeee!
Site: www.Strange-Infatuations.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters from the Harry Potter books and films do not belong to me in any way and I'm making no money out of this shameless warping of their characters for my own amusement. Please don't sue me... I've got widdle cats to feed dammit!!!!! ;)
Dedication: First and foremost, as always, for Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire but also for BJ because she begged so hard I started writing it again and because her fanart for Precious broke my heart. :)
Struck 6:
Draco Malfoy was pondering life, or rather ‘his’ life in its current state, as he stood beneath the shower’s gentle spray.
It was not his usual practice to engage in such admittedly involving thoughts prior to breakfast, but in light of the drastic alternations his life had taken only the night before, he thought himself justified.
Things had normally run to an exact science, easily charted and registered as Draco made his way through school, year after year with an almost comforting pattern to his days. Each year, since their very first, Potter and he had squared off against one another again and again until it was almost instinctual to turn and sneer at the Gryffindor.
But therein lay the problem. It was his 'instincts' that had led him to this, the most unnerving state of affairs 'ever' experienced.
He wanted Potter.
He didn’t like him, he didn’t respect him (except possibly as a Seeker, but that was acceptable... almost) but having felt those hands on him, that mouth, Potter’s breath against his neck as he came…
He shuddered. Only the night before it had somehow seemed reasonable, feasible almost, that they should put their enmity aside and simply give in to whatever deity had decided to royally fuck with their lives for his amusement.
But now?
Draco sighed as he let the water cascade over his skin, where it draped itself slickly over the bruises of Potter’s fingers on his body, the indents of rolling beneath him on the floor in anger and then crazed desire. He ached from head to toe, his backside throbbed pleasantly still – moreso since waking and he’d felt obliged to relive the encounter in his mind, forcibly squeezing his own flesh with one hand as the other sped back and forth along his length, Potter’s harsh breath and clenching thighs foremost in his thoughts.
Potter had informed him he ‘must’ use the salve he’d given him to stop him squirming and tormenting them both all day, but Draco LIKED the bruises, liked the squirming, liked the knowledge that not even bloody Cho sodding Chang could boast that Saint Potty had actually left a physical mark of his lust upon her obviously lacking assets.
As he stepped gingerly from the shower several muscles he didn’t even use for Quidditch objected vehemently to his slight movements, the memories of his thrusting, squirming and straddling in Potter’s lap not only tainted by vague unease but discomfort now to boot.
It was no use, he was just going to have to take something, just to take the edge off his aches and pains. Bruised buttocks he could (and had) easily bear, but enduring actual physical discomfort that was in no way connected to sexual gratification? Not likely.
He spelled himself dry and dressed quickly, his hair cast into its usual perfection with fingers so accustomed to the task that it was entirely instinctive, then he strode to his chest to retrieve a basic healing potion. It wasn’t until the nice, warming tingle had spread from the mild crick in his neck to where he'd ever so slightly stubbed his toe stepping out of the shower that he realized that perhaps the potion had done its work just a little 'too' well.
Before he could actually take a moment to recognise the abruptly all too real regret that surged through him at the realisation that the marks were gone, he found himself bundled along by a preturnaturally cheerful Pansy and practically marched down to breakfast.
Thankfully, although obviously requiring his presence, no actual response seemed necessary to her endless spiel on just how brilliant it was to have knocked the 'snooty' Ravenclaw seeker down a notch and, Pansy's babbling a mere ringing in his ears, Draco let his train of thought continue.
He had planned to use his admittedly enjoyable discomfort to torment Potter, his plan being that he'd work the Gryffindor up so badly he'd feel a definite urge to 'relieve' the tension in some way.
He nearly stopped short, before falling back into step with the oblivious Pansy as the obvious struck him squarely between the eyes.
Draco had never required bruises prior to this time to rile up 'Saint' Potter.
He bit back a smile ad let Pansy steer him through the doors and into the Great Hall.
Some things just came naturally.
*********************************************
Potter had ignored him all through breakfast. He'd done no more than glance his way in passing as they each traversed the corridor down to Potions. When Draco had practically seared his stare into the oddly tan flesh of Potter’s nape, there hadn't been the vaguest sign of discomfiture, of notice and abruptly Draco's cool planning had all seemed to melt away.
He wanted to leap forwards, grab handfuls of Potter's hair and robes and scream at him 'I'm here… It happened… Acknowledge it… See Me.'
But instead he grit his teeth and let the anger wash over him, let the first stupid classmate to cross his path take the brunt of his rage and steadily, patiently, waited.
He had not needed to wait long.
Draco had been watching Potter chopping, noting the fact that for once there had been a degree of accuracy in everything the usually haphazard brunet did.
Admittedly since scraping into the advanced class, Potter had somehow managed to barely fulfil his obligations in both the practical and theory aspects of the class, but never had the Slytherin seen him quite so absorbed in his task. His eyes shone with amusement. If he didn't know better, he'd think Potter were focusing just a little 'too' hard on the subject at hand, distracting himself with the ruse of actually being a good student.
Not quite good enough, it seemed. Draco's eyes narrowed suddenly. There, where there should be slivers, were chunks. That wouldn't work, he'd realised, suppressing a wicked smile. Potter would need to start over and that would require a trip to the supply closet.
Of course, Draco would get there first.
And he did.
The expression on Potter's face as he stepped through the door and saw him casually leaning against the shelves was priceless. Better yet was the fear that raced across his face, chased by an odd interest as those green eyes seemed to take Draco all in at once and he felt entirely unable to prevent the smirk from spreading across his face.
"Hullo, Potter."
The barest nod, “Malfoy.”
Carefully, Harry scanned the shelves, unmoving from his position just inside the door, heart thundering in his chest as he took in the almost predatory gleam in the Slytherin’s eyes.
“Looking for something, are we?” Such an amiable tone, an almost shocking thing to hear in Malfoy’s voice, yet Harry wasn’t fooled by the seemingly innocent inquiry. Those eyes were on him and Harry couldn’t seem to look away.
“Perfidius Valorium. I… uhm… chopped mine too much.” Harry's eyes flicked left and right again, his suspicion growing in proportion with the grin spreading over Draco’s face.
“Oh, that? Yeah, that’s right here on the shelf.”
Harry's eyes narrowed. There was ‘entirely’ too much satisfaction in Malfoy’s voice… and not the interesting ‘good’ kind from before, either.
“Oh yeah? Where, Malfoy? I can’t see it.”
Draco wet his lips and glanced at the floor, taking a moment for a calming breath. He couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying this and he hadn’t even started the true torment of Potter.
He glanced up through his lashes, a deceptively coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Right here on the shelf behind me… Potter.”
Harry let a smile of his own slip through for the briefest second on hearing Malfoy purr his name after such a dreadful display of false ingenuousness, crossing his arms over his chest loosely and leaning against the wall.
“Oh, ok,” he commented offhandedly, “Do you think you could, maybe, pass it to me?”
The smirk flickered back into life before Draco quickly quenched it with yet another ‘butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth’ look towards the Gryffindor, shaking his head gently.
Harry bit his lip and was aware of his pulse attempting to leap from his body at the unexpected hitch in the blond’s breathing. “So,” Harry surmised, unfolding his arms and taking a slow step forwards, eyes flickering to the still partly open door, “I should just come over and… get it, then?”
Draco nodded, trembling and suddenly convinced that Snape was about to burst in upon them. Potter now closing in on him, in front of him, so close.
“You going to move then?” His mouth didn’t seem to move, but the words left Potter’s lips all the same and Draco said not a word, didn’t even bother to shake his head. He simply did not move. Harry stepped closer, appearing unaffected as he scanned the shelf directly behind the Slytherin, unable to quite see past him to the shadowed containers at the back.
Clearing his throat past the abrupt lump of apprehension, Harry lifted an arm and reached over Draco’s shoulder, reaching to the back of the shelf for the slim, rippled jar that held the Perfidius Valorium root, gasping as Draco finally moved.
Draco had waited till Potter had refocused on his task before turning, presenting the brunet with his back and pressing himself flush against him, biting his lip at the shock of delicious fear at his actions.
“Wh, what are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry started, not pulling away but freezing in place as the body that haunted his dreams pressed itself against him much as it had the night before.
“I’m helping you look, obviously,” Draco said, albeit a touch breathlessly, as he pushed his buttocks just that tiny bit further back into the cradle of Potter’s hips. “What with those stupid glasses and all, I’m certain you require… uh, another pair of eyes.”
“Oh,” Harry agreed, casting his response to the equal realm of his glasses stupidity. Malfoy stood only just taller than he, but more precisely proportioned and now with his shoulders resting back against his chest, his gently curved bottom pressing into Harry's lean hardness, it was all Harry could do to remember to grope for the jar he so required.
Slim white hands slid backwards till Harry hissed as the quick fingers curved against the muscles of his outer thighs and Draco arched and thrust his body back against him, undulating so gently it seemed almost unreal.
Harry shuddered as his flesh rose and stiffened against his will, recognising in Malfoy a master more likely to grant the pleasure it desired, both hands now rising to brace against the shelves edge as his ears strained for sounds of Snape without.
“Malfoy,” he managed to mutter desperately, “the jar. Where is… the jar?”
Draco turned again, now almost nose to nose, Harry breathing a sigh of relief as the friction caused by Malfoy’s gyrating behind ceased, before hitching again in shock as breath suddenly mixed with his.
“I’ll tell you… for a price,” whispered Draco’s lips a hair’s breadth from Harry's and something in the gentle flare of triumph in the grey eyes pushed the formerly noble Gryffindor to the limit. Hard hands shot up and gripped Draco cruelly about his upper arms and he shook him, almost glaring into the shocked Slytherin’s face.
“No, Malfoy.” Inexplicably, Harry's mouth was hard on Draco’s and the blond had time to do no more than squeak at the sudden pressure before it was removed, those pale hands now scrabbling at Harry's waist as abruptly his whole plan seemed to crash and burn at his feet. “You’ll tell me now.”
Draco blinked up into Harry's eyes and shudders wracked him as he flashed back to that first night outside the Room of Requirement, the look that had had him leaning forward and offering himself up with something far too akin to eagerness for Draco’s liking. The hands ruthlessly gripping his arms slackened their hold and slid downward to rest first on his hips before snaking round the firmly cup his ass-cheeks, clenching firmly on the plump flesh and Draco shivered anew.
“Tell me.”
When had Potter put his mouth on his again? Draco’s lips parted and something in Harry lit bright and dangerous at the ready submission, something like shame in his belly that his first urge seemed to be to take that odd obedience, twist it in his hands till the Slytherin was sobbing and crying his name again, clinging and coming and… his.
With a gasp Harry tore his mouth free, Draco biting back a whimper, quickly smothering his need in horror when he realised how wantonly he’d been clinging to the boy hero. He’d lost control of this little game and he needed to get it back, and fast.
“Give it here, Malfoy.” The words left Harry's mouth a great deal more brusquely than he’d meant them and he watched something spiteful flicker on the Slytherin’s face. He was beginning to think that a quick kiss with Draco Malfoy in the potions cupboard might turn out to be a million times more unwise than it had first seemed… and that was pretty bloody unwise.
One alabaster hand slipped deep into a pocket before somewhat reluctantly withdrawing the slim, grooved glass jar Harry had been seeking, holding it out for the now distant Gryffindor.
Harry moved to take the jar, lips still damp from Malfoy's, unaware of just how greatly luck had favoured them both, for had it not been for a twist of fate that had Professor Snape stop to actually observe a potion that was going well (and therefore a miracle in itself) he might have stuck his head into the cupboard two minutes prior, instead of at that precise moment.
“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy! If you might be so ‘good’ as to explain why you have found it necessary to remain in this cupboard for longer than even the most ‘abysmally’ pathetic of students when the rest of the class is currently doing as they were instructed, as well I might add as ‘you’ should also be…” His black eyes took in the general air of unease, the flushed countenances and put two and two together. “You have been fighting ‘again’, haven’t you? I should have known, Potter, should have known better than to expect any degree of civility or the vaguest of good conduct from you.”
In the shock of Potter’s change of mood and Snape’s sudden interruption, Draco had stepped away from the shelves, but now, abruptly pinned by his house head’s dark and forbidding stare, he had now taken a hasty step backwards – right into Potter.
“As for ‘you’, Mister Malfoy,” the Potions Master began with a tone of severe disapproval, “I should have expected far better behaviour of a Prefect, a Slytherin Prefect at that, and although I can understand that spending so much time with the Gryffindor’s dragging you down with their discourteous and scabrous ways…”
Draco imagined that the rest of the lecture (and it was building into a big one, he could tell by the actively throbbing vein at Snape’s temple) went on in the same strain, but he had discovered something far more… diverting.
His hasty step backwards had brought his backside directly into contact with the result of the last time he’d pressed himself quite so tight against the brunet. He shifted his hips, barely a fraction of an inch, and was rewarded by the softest of stifled squeaks from the horrified, if amazingly still aroused, Gryffindor.
If Draco had thought it a blessing that somehow his enraged tutor had failed to notice the gentlest of gyrations going on directly before his eyes (thanks be to Merlin for the concealing nature of robes) then the sudden arrival of a frightened first year bearing a message must be regarded as a gift from heaven itself.
As the first year attempted to explain the reason for Professor Sprout having sent him to the terrifying Potions Master, Snape (amidst blistering comments to said first year) turn slightly from the door but failed to step away and therefore free an escape route for the now desperate Gryffindor.
Draco arched his spine, eyes fixed on a point over Snape’s shoulder, all too achingly aware of the possibility of someone turning round in the class and seeing, or worse yet, that the Professor would catch him mid-thrust against Potter’s groin. The idea of these occurrences was just enough to dull the arousal previously burning in Draco’s belly, though the want for vengeance burned bright.
“Malfoy…” a pained whisper in his ear as he pushed back and hard, loving the press of hard flesh against him and knowing himself to be the sole cause and cure. He could hear Potter’s breath, fast and harsh at his nape and a slow smile crossed his face.
“Professor?”
Harry dragged in a breath in horror, Malfoy stepping clear as Snape briefly turned his attention back to them, blood pounding in his veins, astounded by his reaction to the blond’s horrifically public seduction.
“Mister Malfoy, I am rather busy if… oh yes. Get back to your studies - both of you.”
Then, with a smirk over his shoulder, Draco strolled back out of the cupboard and left Harry, gaping and aroused, in his wake.
“Mister Potter? As wonderful as the supplies are, I believe I told you to Return to Your Seat!”
With a start, Harry rushed back to his desk, controlling his uncomfortable swagger as best he could.
“Alright, Potter?” Draco purred solicitously as he passed and even as Harry sunk gratefully back beneath the protection of the desk he found it in him to look back and absorb the glee emanating from every pore of Draco’s body.
Smothering a snarl, Harry turned and began to precisely slice his Perfidius Valorium and with each measured motion of the knife he envisaged stalking back, flinging the smirking snake over his desk and giving him precisely what he’d earned in the store cupboard.
After a moment it became clear to Harry that these thoughts were best not lingered over considering his current problem. He decided to grant himself just one last glare and as he shifted (now verging on painfully) in his seat to bring the Slytherin into sight, Draco spun in his chair, blushing profusely before flicking a single look up through gilt lashes to meet Harry’s.
That one look spoke volumes, each of them pornographic and Harry swore the desk lowered itself several precious inches to crush and confine him even more painfully than before.
So, he mused, forcing himself to break away from the molten grey gaze, Malfoy and he appeared to be in much the same condition. His eyes flickered to the watch at his wrist – barely ten minutes till end of class with Divination to follow.
A smile caught and held. He could afford to be late – Trelawney would assume he’d perished en route to class and be ecstatic for as long as it took him to actually arrive.
Another glance back, another heated look and fingers of excitement were traversing each boy in frenzy as they glared from desk to desk before Draco started squirming in his seat and rather deliberately wetting his lips.
Ten minutes was going to take a lifetime.
****************************************
Draco Malfoy had plans. In fairness, he’d ALWAYS had plans. It was a rare occurrence indeed for him to not have an insidious plan of action to get him through the entire day and sometimes, the most perfectly pithy remark could have been planned 'months' ahead of the actual event. He'd liked things to go 'precisely' as he'd planned.
Of course, there was no reason at all why he should be surprised that Potter seemed to have no respect at all for the best laid plans of Malfoy men.
Originally the plan had been simple - work Potter into a frenzy then feel smug at his expense. Well, that had been easy enough to accomplish. The one problem being that in doing so Draco had worked himself into a similar state that now required immediate relief. He had assumed (foolishly it seemed) that as his bizarrely arousing classmate was bound to be equally in need of instant gratification then a quick convergence would be their best route and had (after achingly long minutes of fulminating glances and unspoken need) seemed highly likely.
That was, of course, until Potter had thrown all these preconceived ideas to the wind and practically ran from class as though the very hounds of hell were on his heels.
Draco pouted and folded his arms over his chest, too far into his own pique to notice the sighs from Pansy's little crowd at his actions, about to turn and stalk away when his ears virtually pricked up.
"… No, he said he was fine, Ron, he'll just be late. Not like it matters anyway what with it being 'this' class anyway, but..."
"He's alright though, yeah? You don't think I should, like, go get him, or anything?"
Draco turned, dipping and adjusting his already perfectly tied shoelaces as he shamelessly eavesdropped while Potter's pet mudblood herself from passing over their 'charge' to the Weasel.
"He's okay, Ron, a bit flushed, but this was a tough lesson to start with considering everything. Poor Harry, he's still so raw over breaking up with Cho, its no wonder he can't bear to face that woman without a quick break to regroup his thoughts… she'll probably be delighted, its probably yet another 'sign' of his impending demise."
Ron cringed and grimaced, colouring slightly as he scowled. "She so much as 'sighs' at him 'Mione, or does that 'poor, poor boy' thing and I swear I'll hex her into a heap of hippogryff dung."
Hermione, pleased by the possessive tone of Ron's voice for reasons she couldn't fathom, blushed slightly and (to her horror) let out a giggle. "Call me if you do, Ron, because I’ll want to watch."
They each grinned inanely at the other for a full beat during which Draco died a thousand deaths of impatience at their blatant idiocy and sickening puppy love before each starting, as though shocked to find themselves still there.
"Oh, I must go, I'll be late and all the front seats will be taken, I uh…. Yeah, umm… he's fine, Ron, but if he's not there in ten, fifteen minutes tops then…"
"I'll go get him." Ron nodded, each relieved to be back on topic. "He's gone… where?"
Hermione slung her satchel more securely over her arm and began hurrying away backwards, still smiling awkwardly at the redhead. "Just to splash his face with cold water. He’ll be there, Ron. Don't worry about it."
More awkward smiles before they both scurried away, so lost in hormones and shard concern for their friend that neither noticed the 6th year straightening up from amidst the crowd of fourth years shuffling uneasily into class.
The bathrooms. Draco smiled anew.
Perfect.
*******************************
A quick stroll through the hallways and Draco found himself stood outside the very bathrooms where Harry Potter had first kissed him.
He shuddered. Merlin, had he made a tit of himself. Convinced that Potter had been about to rape him, he hadn't fought him off, hadn't done more than quietly despaired and spread his legs and it had taken 'days' of denial before he'd been able to successfully block out the thought that perhaps, on some level, he'd wanted Potter to take him, no matter what.
But this time, oh, this time there would be no interruptions, no horrifying possible eavesdroppers or voyeurs, no misunderstandings - Draco Malfoy had an itch and Harry Potter was going to scratch it for him.
Stalking quietly into the 'boys' bathroom, he noted with a certain glee that not only was there no sign of occupants barring the closed door on the very stall he had hoped to find Potter inhabiting, but it sounded like someone was breathing rather heavily in there.
Stepping close, his lifted a hand, hoped hard, and rapped twice upon the closed door. "Knock, knock…" he purred.
A gasp and then, "Malfoy?"
Draco chuckled softly, Potter sounded so deliciously surprised.
"No, Potter… its Moaning Myrtle, just thought I'd stop by to watch you wank. Course it’s me, idiot."
A snort and heavy sigh, "Look, I'm delighted that you value my suffering over your studies, Malfoy, but really, I'm just a touch 'busy' in here so if you'll be on your way, you'd make it a lot easier for me to be on mine… you can torment me about this another time, alright?"
"Uhm… no?" Draco shot back, astounded by the Gryffindor’s reply. "Potter… I, you..." He broke off as Potter's breathing seemed to gutter and quicken and he swore he heard the other boy bite back a moan. "Potter," he began again, his voice hoarse with that seething sensation in his belly once more, "Let. Me. In."
Silence.
Draco rested his head against the cool surface of the door, inexplicably wearied.
"Potter?"
He fell forward suddenly as the door opened inwards, a rough hand fisting in his shirtfront and dragging him round and back as the stall door shut firm behind him, Potter already against him.
"Hi,” he panted and Draco gulped at the dark eyes peering into him, noticing with interest the swollen red bottom lip, heavy with blood and the indents of Potter's teeth.
"Hey,” Draco muttered breathlessly and found (rather horrifically to his liking) that Potter's mouth was on his before the word had quite left his lips.
Back against the door, chest to chest, mouth to mouth with Potter’s hand roaming from throat to waist and Draco could barely remember to breathe… God, he’d been waiting for this so long and now he….
Wait.
Potter’s hand.
As far as Draco knew, despite being a Gryffindor freak and ok, yeah, grotesquely disfigured not to mention bespectacled, Harry Potter had always been the proud owner of no less than ‘two’ hands.
Pulling his mouth back with a disturbingly interesting, wet pop, Draco attempted to take stock of the situation. Potter’s mouth – currently traversing his collarbone. Potter’s apparently solo left hand – clenching on his backside (damn the git was consistent). Potter’s body – half pressed against his, crushing his own right side with Potter’s left while Potter’s right side and right hand…
Egad.
He’d wanted to catch Potter masturbating but this?
“I, Uhm P, Potter?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re uhh, that is… you’re… wanking?” Draco wished his voice hadn’t risen to ‘squeak’ pitch by the last word, but he had the impression that Potter still would have been chuckling against his throat no matter how offhand he’d sounded.
“Well done, ten points to Slytherin… really.”
Draco blushed. “Do you… think you might, I don’t know…. Stop?”
Harry raised his head, a blurred green gaze resting on Draco’s flushed countenance with a sort of amused curiosity.
“Stop? I don’t think so, Malfoy. In fact, I had rather thought that when you came knocking on the door and bleating to be let in that you ahh… understood, precisely what it was I was doing and had, I hoped, come to… lend a hand?”
“Lend a hand?” Draco repeated numbly, still too aware of the slow motion of Potter’s right hand beneath the folds of his untucked school shirt to focus on more than the implications of that movement. Potter’s hand was on his cock. Potter was masturbating – because of him.
“Well, yeah,” Harry husked gently, resuming his not so gentle biting and sucking just beneath Draco’s ear, “You did, after all, cause my uhh ‘problem’ so it seemed fitting that you be here to help me ‘cure’ myself…”
Potter’s mouth pressed back over Draco’s, so the blond's quiet “Help you?” was rather muffled by the insertion of Potter’s questing tongue. He was too distracted (again) by that soft mouth to realise the intent of the Gryffindor’s hands until he found his own being pushed down beneath body-warmed fabric to curve his hand around something throbbing, hard and hot, Potter’s gasp suddenly striking home the enormity of the action.
Squeaking in shock, Draco’s hand clenched reflexively under Harry's and the brunet hissed between his teeth and nipped at the Slytherin’s lower lip. “Too hard, Malfoy… take it easy.”
“But, I, you… I’m…?”
Draco’s incoherent spluttering were cut off as Harry groaned deep in his throat and leaned heavily against the door, his hand on the blond’s having slid those slim white fingers from root to tip and Draco found he could barely breathe.
He, Draco Malfoy, had Harry Potter’s - ‘the’ Harry Potter - cock in his hand and he had ‘no’ idea what to do about it. His eyes were fixed on the rucked material of Potter’s shirt over and above his appropriated hand, watching as the slow bunch and slide of white coincided with the terrifying new sensation of slick flesh sliding over his palm. He tried to slacken his grip beneath Potter’s but the added gap merely caused his fist to twist and slip slightly against the crown and Potter let out a yelp as he threw his head back against the door in startled pleasure.
“M, Malfoy…?” he gasped, but bit the sound off as, to his obvious horror, a low discontented whine escaping him, the bathroom was suddenly invaded by what sounded like a virtual gaggle of third years.
“Nu uh! It’s totally not my fault, I TOLD you to quit it first, and you wouldn’t!”
“So that made it ok for you to throw your inkpot at me?”
“Why are YOU even upset? It didn’t hit YOU!”
“I said duck!!!!”
“Well, that’s just great, because yelling ‘Duck’ just as your inkpots smashing all over me completely makes it not your fault!”
“See?”
“I was being sarcastic!!!”
A crooked smile stopped Harry from appearing completely frustrated, his appreciation for the humour of the situation making Draco’s mouth quirk in sympathy until he realised Potter had relinquished his grip above Draco’s, leaving him stood there, hand clamped on Potter’s hard-on apparently by his own volition.
He turned his head, surprised by Potter’s having released him, only to have his mouth claimed gently, a murmur of soft bliss against his lips when his hand tightened fractionally in shock, a shudder traversing the Gryffindor’s entire body as he bit back his obvious enjoyment.
A fuse lit and fizzed almost painfully in his skull as a realisation struck him like the infamous bolt on Potter’s brow. Potter had surrendered his pleasure to ‘him’. Draco was in control of Harry Potter and all he had to do was keep his hand exactly where it was.
Draco shivered. He was going to enjoy this.
The third years were still bitching amongst each other about who was going to explain the ink stains all over the unfortunate member of their group as Potter let his lips slide gently over Draco’s, his attempts to slow his breathing almost amusing to Draco now as he began to move his hand back and forth with a sudden burst of speed that had the Gryffindor pulling back with a strangled heave of breath against the blond’s smug smile.
Wide green eyes bored into verging on spiteful grey as what seemed suddenly hideously, dreadfully loud slick sounds now came from where Draco’s hand sped on Harry's flesh, thankfully obliterated by the splashing and whining and stomping of the younger boys.
‘Mal-foy’ No noise, only Potter’s mouth forming his name and Draco shuddered, his thigh slipping between Potter’s, pressing his now insistent hardness into the Gryffindor’s unyielding sinews as he leant in to lap his tongue tip lightly over the curve of that bitten lower lip, revelling in the tremors he had caused.
He was so lost in his absorption in Potter's apparently shameless pleasure that it was several moments after the echo of the bathroom door slamming in the younger students wake before he let the connection between their mouths break for desperately required air.
They stood there, panting a moment, Draco's hand still idly stroking Potter's cock even as his hips hitched and pressed slowly against the Gryffindor's leg, before Harry's rather amused voice broke the silence.
"Enjoying yourself there, Malfoy?"
Draco would have been rather put off by the smug smile tilting the corners of that red mouth, but he could hear the breathlessness, knew that gentle gasp between words was caused by him and he couldn’t help but lean in to nip and smother that tiny smile with his own lips.
"No more than you, Potter… but then, how could you not? Just standing there, letting me do all the work to get you off? If I didn't know better I'd say you planned this."
A snort. "Hardly, Malfoy. After all, 'you' planned this, I only added the bit where you get to put those pretty white hands of yours to work."
"Me?" Even if Draco could have quickly conjured a halo he would never have pulled off the arch innocence he so badly practised, squeezing just a little too tightly as he sped up his rhythm and batted his eyelashes at roughly the same pace. "Now why in Merlin's name would I have wanted to plan this?"
Potter's arm had snuck about Draco's waist and tightened perceptibly with every jut of Draco's hips against him and Draco now found himself winding his free arm up about Potter’s neck to keep their heads anchored together as they teetered in position, each rocked by the motion of Draco's body as Harry clung to the door with the hand previously controlling the Slytherin's.
Harry laughed, breathlessly as the tension began to build in his body, aware now of how the blond had turned them slightly to press him against the door with his own writhing body, keeping him captive at both hips and lips with a smirk belied by the need shining in his eyes.
"Now come on, Malfoy," Harry ground out between increasingly more frequent moans, "I already 'fessed up to this bit. Admit it, you were doing your bloody utmost to wind me up back there, all that twisting and, and turning, and uhh, pushing yourself on me, like that…"
Draco's laughter was tremulous itself with the arousal coursing through him with each electric jolt of his body against Potter's, each jerk and spasm of the flesh within his grip as he recalled Potter's expression back in the store cupboard.
"You trying to say you didn't like it, Potty? Because I have the distinct recollection of your rather enjoying it - even with Snape watching… you filthy git."
"What I 'liked', Malfoy, was your tight little backside rammed right up against me and you know it, knew it then, too… whole idea I'd say. Get Potter all hot and bothered then walk away… am I right?"
Draco's hand stopped.
"You calling me a 'tease', Potter?" He leaned in to breathe the words against the brunet’s now shining temple, feeling the tremors rolling through the slender form and knew himself to be utterly in control.
"Cock tease." The whispered words barely made it to Draco's ear.
"Excuse me?" He squeezed just that fraction too tight once more.
"Not... uhhhnngh… not just a tease, you git… a fucking cock tease… getting off on uhh, on getting me hard then… then walking away."
A blond brow lifted infinitesimally. "You think so?"
Green eyes opened from where they'd flickered shut at the pleasure pain of Draco's tight grip, an all too Slytherin smirk marring the mindless submission Draco had been so enjoying.
"I know so. You wanted to get me hot then walk away... but you forgot just how fucking much you like 'this', how much you 'want' this and got us both too hot, too hard to even stick to your own master-plan. You wanted to be back in charge, wanted to take control of this, of me… and for just a moment, the barest moment back in that cupboard…"
Harry's eyes darkened and he leaned in, whispering harshly against Draco's now silent mouth.
"Back in that cupboard you 'had' the control, even with Snape there, half the class, the whole fucking world watching I would have done 'anything' just to keep your body tight against mine…"
"Anything?" Draco muttered roughly, letting his lips drag viciously over the word and into a hard kiss.
Harry exhaled hard through his nostrils, body quivering even under Draco stationary clasp. “What do you want me to say, Malfoy?" he gasped back against the porcelain skin, "That I'd have knelt and begged you? Sucked you, perhaps? God, maybe I'd have even done both, right there with your own house head watching… begged you with my mouth full of your cock, Malfoy, that what you want me to say?"
He bit hard into Draco's lower lip and found himself smiling at the squeak of pain it produced rather more than the jerk forwards of Draco's hips against his thigh, and he pulled back enough to fix the Slytherin’s gaze with his own smug stare.
"Really. Fucking. Unlikely, Malfoy. But you'll never know now, will you? You 'had' it, had the moment you've been bloody 'craving' and you lost it because you just can't help yourself. You want this, and you want me and that’s just too much for you to handle. You can't control me when you can barely control yourself, 'Draco'. I’ve won this and you know it."
Something kindled then in those grey eyes and Harry fancied they blazed bright silver before they were lost again to the gleaming black pupils, spread wide as the blond leaned in to cruelly bite and kiss at Harry's startled mouth.
"You think I've lost control of this?" he spat, hand suddenly leaping back into life back and forth across Harry's length with such ferocity a wail of pleasure seemed to erupt from Harry's very core. "Let's see, shall we, Potter? Let's see how this turns out now. I can still stop, I can still walk away, leave you here fucking yearning for my hand on your dick… you want that? You fucking want me to stop this now, Potter?"
"NO… god, no, Mal-FOY uhhhhhhhhh, fuck…. God, no… don't stop, don't stop…."
Harry's spine was arching so far now that only the tip of his head and his backside still pressed into the door, undulating his abdomen and panting harshly as Draco ground into him, his strokes almost blurring on the slick flesh, a slim triumphant smile tilting the corners of his mouth even as he crushed it back against the Gryffindor’s.
"I didn't think so,” he hissed.
Their rocking, grinding and panting increased to the point where the clack of bone on wood and teeth on teeth seemed deafening and the boys were obliged to part lips in order to keep going without passing out, settling for tangling tongues between their mouths in a style reminiscent of that hideously over the top porno style kiss Draco had so scorned in the past.
Potter was close, Draco could tell. The night before, when Potter was going to come he'd been dragging in mouthfuls of air and letting them back out on exactly such tortured sounds as he was emitting now and the thrashing beneath his not particularly gentle ministrations was reaching an almost convulsive state.
"Ahhhh… ohhh, oh god… Malfoy, fuck…. Malfoy, uhhhhh god…. Fffuuuuuu-uuuuuck…. Yesssssss…"
Draco smiled as Potter, shook and hid his face against his neck. Any second now.
"F…fuuuuck…" Draco might not have caught it, might not have heard Harry's whimpered curse had it not been spoken against his own skin at the precise moment hot jets of semen all too suddenly 'not' his own shot against his hand and wrist, but before the moment could be actually processed by his overwhelmed brain, Harry chose to stifle his shout of pleasure on Draco's leaping pulse point.
Sharp white teeth sunk into equally white skin and the shock of pain that echoed the action both pulled and pushed Draco to the brink, keeping him hovering on the edge of bliss as pleasure coursed through (and apparently out of) the Gryffindor's body until he slumped heavily against him.
Draco was startled. He realised that Potter had been hard for quite some time at this point, but he'd seemed to come a great deal harder than he had the previous night. No sooner than the thought crossed his mind that it was because of 'him' then pleasure shot through him at the idea, a muted moan falling from his lips and Harry lifted his head at the sound.
"Mmm." he said appreciatively, albeit bizarrely smugly, before reaching in to gently pull Draco's now limp hand from his sensitive flesh, careful to not disturb the gleaming splatter of come now decorating the slim white hand as he pressed it and its counterpart up against the wall over Draco's head. He shifted their bodies slightly, sliding them from the door to the wall where he let his full weight rest against the still panting, bright eyed Slytherin, letting his eyes rake him over from the deep red bite mark at his throat, to the swollen lips and feverish gaze, up to the reddened and now wet fingers.
"Mmmmm,” he hummed again and thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth, rotating his hips firmly against the throbbing ridge in the Slytherin’s well cut trousers, waiting until the blond whined and pushed insistently into his body before pulling back slightly.
"Control,” he whispered and bit back a chuckle at the Slytherin’s frazzled expression. "You had it twice… you 'lost' it twice, Malfoy."
He released Draco's hands and stepped back, ruthlessly crushing the bizarre pang of guilt at the blond's wounded whimper.
"You said it, you had the power. All you had to do was walk away… but you just 'couldn't'." Draco's eyes were wide with disbelief as Harry's hand released the catch on the door. "So now I will."
He stepped through, drinking in the view again: Draco Malfoy, almost sprawled against the wall, utterly dishevelled, debauched, and 'aching' for release.
"Looks like I won 'again', Malfoy."
Draco's mouth worked noiselessly, his brain unable to comprehend the abrupt change of pace, body trembling with aborted pleasure 'til the only thing he had left at his disposal kicked in as Potter turned to walk out of the bathroom.
"I FUCKING HATE YOU, POTTER!" he almost screamed, the words dripping fury and venom as he struggled to bring himself fully upright to better stalk out and just hurt Potter so bad, when Harry's mocking laugh echoed back to him as the Gryffindor exited the room.
"Likewise, Malfoy… likewise."
And then he was gone.
Draco waited perhaps five full minutes before actually giving in and letting out a positive 'howl' of rage, he spun and kicked the door seven times in quick succession and when he doubled over, the arousal now no more than the quaking of his limbs, he told himself the tears streaking his face were of fury and nothing more.
TBC.
This, would be the newest installment and for those who've been waiting on it, I'm very VERY sorry for the wait :) lol and for those in need of a recap *cringe* it having been over a year between postings and all ;) Here ya go & I hope its enjoyed.
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Title: Struck 6: Control.
Author: LadyVader
Archive: Always ask the author first please.
Pairing/s: H/D.
Summary: It’s not nice to tease…
Rating: NC17 I guess... shocker, huh? ;)
Warnings: Bad Language, and SLASH! Flee li'l homophobes... Fleeeeeeeeeeee!
Site: www.Strange-Infatuations.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters from the Harry Potter books and films do not belong to me in any way and I'm making no money out of this shameless warping of their characters for my own amusement. Please don't sue me... I've got widdle cats to feed dammit!!!!! ;)
Dedication: First and foremost, as always, for Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire but also for BJ because she begged so hard I started writing it again and because her fanart for Precious broke my heart. :)
Struck 6:
Draco Malfoy was pondering life, or rather ‘his’ life in its current state, as he stood beneath the shower’s gentle spray.
It was not his usual practice to engage in such admittedly involving thoughts prior to breakfast, but in light of the drastic alternations his life had taken only the night before, he thought himself justified.
Things had normally run to an exact science, easily charted and registered as Draco made his way through school, year after year with an almost comforting pattern to his days. Each year, since their very first, Potter and he had squared off against one another again and again until it was almost instinctual to turn and sneer at the Gryffindor.
But therein lay the problem. It was his 'instincts' that had led him to this, the most unnerving state of affairs 'ever' experienced.
He wanted Potter.
He didn’t like him, he didn’t respect him (except possibly as a Seeker, but that was acceptable... almost) but having felt those hands on him, that mouth, Potter’s breath against his neck as he came…
He shuddered. Only the night before it had somehow seemed reasonable, feasible almost, that they should put their enmity aside and simply give in to whatever deity had decided to royally fuck with their lives for his amusement.
But now?
Draco sighed as he let the water cascade over his skin, where it draped itself slickly over the bruises of Potter’s fingers on his body, the indents of rolling beneath him on the floor in anger and then crazed desire. He ached from head to toe, his backside throbbed pleasantly still – moreso since waking and he’d felt obliged to relive the encounter in his mind, forcibly squeezing his own flesh with one hand as the other sped back and forth along his length, Potter’s harsh breath and clenching thighs foremost in his thoughts.
Potter had informed him he ‘must’ use the salve he’d given him to stop him squirming and tormenting them both all day, but Draco LIKED the bruises, liked the squirming, liked the knowledge that not even bloody Cho sodding Chang could boast that Saint Potty had actually left a physical mark of his lust upon her obviously lacking assets.
As he stepped gingerly from the shower several muscles he didn’t even use for Quidditch objected vehemently to his slight movements, the memories of his thrusting, squirming and straddling in Potter’s lap not only tainted by vague unease but discomfort now to boot.
It was no use, he was just going to have to take something, just to take the edge off his aches and pains. Bruised buttocks he could (and had) easily bear, but enduring actual physical discomfort that was in no way connected to sexual gratification? Not likely.
He spelled himself dry and dressed quickly, his hair cast into its usual perfection with fingers so accustomed to the task that it was entirely instinctive, then he strode to his chest to retrieve a basic healing potion. It wasn’t until the nice, warming tingle had spread from the mild crick in his neck to where he'd ever so slightly stubbed his toe stepping out of the shower that he realized that perhaps the potion had done its work just a little 'too' well.
Before he could actually take a moment to recognise the abruptly all too real regret that surged through him at the realisation that the marks were gone, he found himself bundled along by a preturnaturally cheerful Pansy and practically marched down to breakfast.
Thankfully, although obviously requiring his presence, no actual response seemed necessary to her endless spiel on just how brilliant it was to have knocked the 'snooty' Ravenclaw seeker down a notch and, Pansy's babbling a mere ringing in his ears, Draco let his train of thought continue.
He had planned to use his admittedly enjoyable discomfort to torment Potter, his plan being that he'd work the Gryffindor up so badly he'd feel a definite urge to 'relieve' the tension in some way.
He nearly stopped short, before falling back into step with the oblivious Pansy as the obvious struck him squarely between the eyes.
Draco had never required bruises prior to this time to rile up 'Saint' Potter.
He bit back a smile ad let Pansy steer him through the doors and into the Great Hall.
Some things just came naturally.
*********************************************
Potter had ignored him all through breakfast. He'd done no more than glance his way in passing as they each traversed the corridor down to Potions. When Draco had practically seared his stare into the oddly tan flesh of Potter’s nape, there hadn't been the vaguest sign of discomfiture, of notice and abruptly Draco's cool planning had all seemed to melt away.
He wanted to leap forwards, grab handfuls of Potter's hair and robes and scream at him 'I'm here… It happened… Acknowledge it… See Me.'
But instead he grit his teeth and let the anger wash over him, let the first stupid classmate to cross his path take the brunt of his rage and steadily, patiently, waited.
He had not needed to wait long.
Draco had been watching Potter chopping, noting the fact that for once there had been a degree of accuracy in everything the usually haphazard brunet did.
Admittedly since scraping into the advanced class, Potter had somehow managed to barely fulfil his obligations in both the practical and theory aspects of the class, but never had the Slytherin seen him quite so absorbed in his task. His eyes shone with amusement. If he didn't know better, he'd think Potter were focusing just a little 'too' hard on the subject at hand, distracting himself with the ruse of actually being a good student.
Not quite good enough, it seemed. Draco's eyes narrowed suddenly. There, where there should be slivers, were chunks. That wouldn't work, he'd realised, suppressing a wicked smile. Potter would need to start over and that would require a trip to the supply closet.
Of course, Draco would get there first.
And he did.
The expression on Potter's face as he stepped through the door and saw him casually leaning against the shelves was priceless. Better yet was the fear that raced across his face, chased by an odd interest as those green eyes seemed to take Draco all in at once and he felt entirely unable to prevent the smirk from spreading across his face.
"Hullo, Potter."
The barest nod, “Malfoy.”
Carefully, Harry scanned the shelves, unmoving from his position just inside the door, heart thundering in his chest as he took in the almost predatory gleam in the Slytherin’s eyes.
“Looking for something, are we?” Such an amiable tone, an almost shocking thing to hear in Malfoy’s voice, yet Harry wasn’t fooled by the seemingly innocent inquiry. Those eyes were on him and Harry couldn’t seem to look away.
“Perfidius Valorium. I… uhm… chopped mine too much.” Harry's eyes flicked left and right again, his suspicion growing in proportion with the grin spreading over Draco’s face.
“Oh, that? Yeah, that’s right here on the shelf.”
Harry's eyes narrowed. There was ‘entirely’ too much satisfaction in Malfoy’s voice… and not the interesting ‘good’ kind from before, either.
“Oh yeah? Where, Malfoy? I can’t see it.”
Draco wet his lips and glanced at the floor, taking a moment for a calming breath. He couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying this and he hadn’t even started the true torment of Potter.
He glanced up through his lashes, a deceptively coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Right here on the shelf behind me… Potter.”
Harry let a smile of his own slip through for the briefest second on hearing Malfoy purr his name after such a dreadful display of false ingenuousness, crossing his arms over his chest loosely and leaning against the wall.
“Oh, ok,” he commented offhandedly, “Do you think you could, maybe, pass it to me?”
The smirk flickered back into life before Draco quickly quenched it with yet another ‘butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth’ look towards the Gryffindor, shaking his head gently.
Harry bit his lip and was aware of his pulse attempting to leap from his body at the unexpected hitch in the blond’s breathing. “So,” Harry surmised, unfolding his arms and taking a slow step forwards, eyes flickering to the still partly open door, “I should just come over and… get it, then?”
Draco nodded, trembling and suddenly convinced that Snape was about to burst in upon them. Potter now closing in on him, in front of him, so close.
“You going to move then?” His mouth didn’t seem to move, but the words left Potter’s lips all the same and Draco said not a word, didn’t even bother to shake his head. He simply did not move. Harry stepped closer, appearing unaffected as he scanned the shelf directly behind the Slytherin, unable to quite see past him to the shadowed containers at the back.
Clearing his throat past the abrupt lump of apprehension, Harry lifted an arm and reached over Draco’s shoulder, reaching to the back of the shelf for the slim, rippled jar that held the Perfidius Valorium root, gasping as Draco finally moved.
Draco had waited till Potter had refocused on his task before turning, presenting the brunet with his back and pressing himself flush against him, biting his lip at the shock of delicious fear at his actions.
“Wh, what are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry started, not pulling away but freezing in place as the body that haunted his dreams pressed itself against him much as it had the night before.
“I’m helping you look, obviously,” Draco said, albeit a touch breathlessly, as he pushed his buttocks just that tiny bit further back into the cradle of Potter’s hips. “What with those stupid glasses and all, I’m certain you require… uh, another pair of eyes.”
“Oh,” Harry agreed, casting his response to the equal realm of his glasses stupidity. Malfoy stood only just taller than he, but more precisely proportioned and now with his shoulders resting back against his chest, his gently curved bottom pressing into Harry's lean hardness, it was all Harry could do to remember to grope for the jar he so required.
Slim white hands slid backwards till Harry hissed as the quick fingers curved against the muscles of his outer thighs and Draco arched and thrust his body back against him, undulating so gently it seemed almost unreal.
Harry shuddered as his flesh rose and stiffened against his will, recognising in Malfoy a master more likely to grant the pleasure it desired, both hands now rising to brace against the shelves edge as his ears strained for sounds of Snape without.
“Malfoy,” he managed to mutter desperately, “the jar. Where is… the jar?”
Draco turned again, now almost nose to nose, Harry breathing a sigh of relief as the friction caused by Malfoy’s gyrating behind ceased, before hitching again in shock as breath suddenly mixed with his.
“I’ll tell you… for a price,” whispered Draco’s lips a hair’s breadth from Harry's and something in the gentle flare of triumph in the grey eyes pushed the formerly noble Gryffindor to the limit. Hard hands shot up and gripped Draco cruelly about his upper arms and he shook him, almost glaring into the shocked Slytherin’s face.
“No, Malfoy.” Inexplicably, Harry's mouth was hard on Draco’s and the blond had time to do no more than squeak at the sudden pressure before it was removed, those pale hands now scrabbling at Harry's waist as abruptly his whole plan seemed to crash and burn at his feet. “You’ll tell me now.”
Draco blinked up into Harry's eyes and shudders wracked him as he flashed back to that first night outside the Room of Requirement, the look that had had him leaning forward and offering himself up with something far too akin to eagerness for Draco’s liking. The hands ruthlessly gripping his arms slackened their hold and slid downward to rest first on his hips before snaking round the firmly cup his ass-cheeks, clenching firmly on the plump flesh and Draco shivered anew.
“Tell me.”
When had Potter put his mouth on his again? Draco’s lips parted and something in Harry lit bright and dangerous at the ready submission, something like shame in his belly that his first urge seemed to be to take that odd obedience, twist it in his hands till the Slytherin was sobbing and crying his name again, clinging and coming and… his.
With a gasp Harry tore his mouth free, Draco biting back a whimper, quickly smothering his need in horror when he realised how wantonly he’d been clinging to the boy hero. He’d lost control of this little game and he needed to get it back, and fast.
“Give it here, Malfoy.” The words left Harry's mouth a great deal more brusquely than he’d meant them and he watched something spiteful flicker on the Slytherin’s face. He was beginning to think that a quick kiss with Draco Malfoy in the potions cupboard might turn out to be a million times more unwise than it had first seemed… and that was pretty bloody unwise.
One alabaster hand slipped deep into a pocket before somewhat reluctantly withdrawing the slim, grooved glass jar Harry had been seeking, holding it out for the now distant Gryffindor.
Harry moved to take the jar, lips still damp from Malfoy's, unaware of just how greatly luck had favoured them both, for had it not been for a twist of fate that had Professor Snape stop to actually observe a potion that was going well (and therefore a miracle in itself) he might have stuck his head into the cupboard two minutes prior, instead of at that precise moment.
“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy! If you might be so ‘good’ as to explain why you have found it necessary to remain in this cupboard for longer than even the most ‘abysmally’ pathetic of students when the rest of the class is currently doing as they were instructed, as well I might add as ‘you’ should also be…” His black eyes took in the general air of unease, the flushed countenances and put two and two together. “You have been fighting ‘again’, haven’t you? I should have known, Potter, should have known better than to expect any degree of civility or the vaguest of good conduct from you.”
In the shock of Potter’s change of mood and Snape’s sudden interruption, Draco had stepped away from the shelves, but now, abruptly pinned by his house head’s dark and forbidding stare, he had now taken a hasty step backwards – right into Potter.
“As for ‘you’, Mister Malfoy,” the Potions Master began with a tone of severe disapproval, “I should have expected far better behaviour of a Prefect, a Slytherin Prefect at that, and although I can understand that spending so much time with the Gryffindor’s dragging you down with their discourteous and scabrous ways…”
Draco imagined that the rest of the lecture (and it was building into a big one, he could tell by the actively throbbing vein at Snape’s temple) went on in the same strain, but he had discovered something far more… diverting.
His hasty step backwards had brought his backside directly into contact with the result of the last time he’d pressed himself quite so tight against the brunet. He shifted his hips, barely a fraction of an inch, and was rewarded by the softest of stifled squeaks from the horrified, if amazingly still aroused, Gryffindor.
If Draco had thought it a blessing that somehow his enraged tutor had failed to notice the gentlest of gyrations going on directly before his eyes (thanks be to Merlin for the concealing nature of robes) then the sudden arrival of a frightened first year bearing a message must be regarded as a gift from heaven itself.
As the first year attempted to explain the reason for Professor Sprout having sent him to the terrifying Potions Master, Snape (amidst blistering comments to said first year) turn slightly from the door but failed to step away and therefore free an escape route for the now desperate Gryffindor.
Draco arched his spine, eyes fixed on a point over Snape’s shoulder, all too achingly aware of the possibility of someone turning round in the class and seeing, or worse yet, that the Professor would catch him mid-thrust against Potter’s groin. The idea of these occurrences was just enough to dull the arousal previously burning in Draco’s belly, though the want for vengeance burned bright.
“Malfoy…” a pained whisper in his ear as he pushed back and hard, loving the press of hard flesh against him and knowing himself to be the sole cause and cure. He could hear Potter’s breath, fast and harsh at his nape and a slow smile crossed his face.
“Professor?”
Harry dragged in a breath in horror, Malfoy stepping clear as Snape briefly turned his attention back to them, blood pounding in his veins, astounded by his reaction to the blond’s horrifically public seduction.
“Mister Malfoy, I am rather busy if… oh yes. Get back to your studies - both of you.”
Then, with a smirk over his shoulder, Draco strolled back out of the cupboard and left Harry, gaping and aroused, in his wake.
“Mister Potter? As wonderful as the supplies are, I believe I told you to Return to Your Seat!”
With a start, Harry rushed back to his desk, controlling his uncomfortable swagger as best he could.
“Alright, Potter?” Draco purred solicitously as he passed and even as Harry sunk gratefully back beneath the protection of the desk he found it in him to look back and absorb the glee emanating from every pore of Draco’s body.
Smothering a snarl, Harry turned and began to precisely slice his Perfidius Valorium and with each measured motion of the knife he envisaged stalking back, flinging the smirking snake over his desk and giving him precisely what he’d earned in the store cupboard.
After a moment it became clear to Harry that these thoughts were best not lingered over considering his current problem. He decided to grant himself just one last glare and as he shifted (now verging on painfully) in his seat to bring the Slytherin into sight, Draco spun in his chair, blushing profusely before flicking a single look up through gilt lashes to meet Harry’s.
That one look spoke volumes, each of them pornographic and Harry swore the desk lowered itself several precious inches to crush and confine him even more painfully than before.
So, he mused, forcing himself to break away from the molten grey gaze, Malfoy and he appeared to be in much the same condition. His eyes flickered to the watch at his wrist – barely ten minutes till end of class with Divination to follow.
A smile caught and held. He could afford to be late – Trelawney would assume he’d perished en route to class and be ecstatic for as long as it took him to actually arrive.
Another glance back, another heated look and fingers of excitement were traversing each boy in frenzy as they glared from desk to desk before Draco started squirming in his seat and rather deliberately wetting his lips.
Ten minutes was going to take a lifetime.
****************************************
Draco Malfoy had plans. In fairness, he’d ALWAYS had plans. It was a rare occurrence indeed for him to not have an insidious plan of action to get him through the entire day and sometimes, the most perfectly pithy remark could have been planned 'months' ahead of the actual event. He'd liked things to go 'precisely' as he'd planned.
Of course, there was no reason at all why he should be surprised that Potter seemed to have no respect at all for the best laid plans of Malfoy men.
Originally the plan had been simple - work Potter into a frenzy then feel smug at his expense. Well, that had been easy enough to accomplish. The one problem being that in doing so Draco had worked himself into a similar state that now required immediate relief. He had assumed (foolishly it seemed) that as his bizarrely arousing classmate was bound to be equally in need of instant gratification then a quick convergence would be their best route and had (after achingly long minutes of fulminating glances and unspoken need) seemed highly likely.
That was, of course, until Potter had thrown all these preconceived ideas to the wind and practically ran from class as though the very hounds of hell were on his heels.
Draco pouted and folded his arms over his chest, too far into his own pique to notice the sighs from Pansy's little crowd at his actions, about to turn and stalk away when his ears virtually pricked up.
"… No, he said he was fine, Ron, he'll just be late. Not like it matters anyway what with it being 'this' class anyway, but..."
"He's alright though, yeah? You don't think I should, like, go get him, or anything?"
Draco turned, dipping and adjusting his already perfectly tied shoelaces as he shamelessly eavesdropped while Potter's pet mudblood herself from passing over their 'charge' to the Weasel.
"He's okay, Ron, a bit flushed, but this was a tough lesson to start with considering everything. Poor Harry, he's still so raw over breaking up with Cho, its no wonder he can't bear to face that woman without a quick break to regroup his thoughts… she'll probably be delighted, its probably yet another 'sign' of his impending demise."
Ron cringed and grimaced, colouring slightly as he scowled. "She so much as 'sighs' at him 'Mione, or does that 'poor, poor boy' thing and I swear I'll hex her into a heap of hippogryff dung."
Hermione, pleased by the possessive tone of Ron's voice for reasons she couldn't fathom, blushed slightly and (to her horror) let out a giggle. "Call me if you do, Ron, because I’ll want to watch."
They each grinned inanely at the other for a full beat during which Draco died a thousand deaths of impatience at their blatant idiocy and sickening puppy love before each starting, as though shocked to find themselves still there.
"Oh, I must go, I'll be late and all the front seats will be taken, I uh…. Yeah, umm… he's fine, Ron, but if he's not there in ten, fifteen minutes tops then…"
"I'll go get him." Ron nodded, each relieved to be back on topic. "He's gone… where?"
Hermione slung her satchel more securely over her arm and began hurrying away backwards, still smiling awkwardly at the redhead. "Just to splash his face with cold water. He’ll be there, Ron. Don't worry about it."
More awkward smiles before they both scurried away, so lost in hormones and shard concern for their friend that neither noticed the 6th year straightening up from amidst the crowd of fourth years shuffling uneasily into class.
The bathrooms. Draco smiled anew.
Perfect.
*******************************
A quick stroll through the hallways and Draco found himself stood outside the very bathrooms where Harry Potter had first kissed him.
He shuddered. Merlin, had he made a tit of himself. Convinced that Potter had been about to rape him, he hadn't fought him off, hadn't done more than quietly despaired and spread his legs and it had taken 'days' of denial before he'd been able to successfully block out the thought that perhaps, on some level, he'd wanted Potter to take him, no matter what.
But this time, oh, this time there would be no interruptions, no horrifying possible eavesdroppers or voyeurs, no misunderstandings - Draco Malfoy had an itch and Harry Potter was going to scratch it for him.
Stalking quietly into the 'boys' bathroom, he noted with a certain glee that not only was there no sign of occupants barring the closed door on the very stall he had hoped to find Potter inhabiting, but it sounded like someone was breathing rather heavily in there.
Stepping close, his lifted a hand, hoped hard, and rapped twice upon the closed door. "Knock, knock…" he purred.
A gasp and then, "Malfoy?"
Draco chuckled softly, Potter sounded so deliciously surprised.
"No, Potter… its Moaning Myrtle, just thought I'd stop by to watch you wank. Course it’s me, idiot."
A snort and heavy sigh, "Look, I'm delighted that you value my suffering over your studies, Malfoy, but really, I'm just a touch 'busy' in here so if you'll be on your way, you'd make it a lot easier for me to be on mine… you can torment me about this another time, alright?"
"Uhm… no?" Draco shot back, astounded by the Gryffindor’s reply. "Potter… I, you..." He broke off as Potter's breathing seemed to gutter and quicken and he swore he heard the other boy bite back a moan. "Potter," he began again, his voice hoarse with that seething sensation in his belly once more, "Let. Me. In."
Silence.
Draco rested his head against the cool surface of the door, inexplicably wearied.
"Potter?"
He fell forward suddenly as the door opened inwards, a rough hand fisting in his shirtfront and dragging him round and back as the stall door shut firm behind him, Potter already against him.
"Hi,” he panted and Draco gulped at the dark eyes peering into him, noticing with interest the swollen red bottom lip, heavy with blood and the indents of Potter's teeth.
"Hey,” Draco muttered breathlessly and found (rather horrifically to his liking) that Potter's mouth was on his before the word had quite left his lips.
Back against the door, chest to chest, mouth to mouth with Potter’s hand roaming from throat to waist and Draco could barely remember to breathe… God, he’d been waiting for this so long and now he….
Wait.
Potter’s hand.
As far as Draco knew, despite being a Gryffindor freak and ok, yeah, grotesquely disfigured not to mention bespectacled, Harry Potter had always been the proud owner of no less than ‘two’ hands.
Pulling his mouth back with a disturbingly interesting, wet pop, Draco attempted to take stock of the situation. Potter’s mouth – currently traversing his collarbone. Potter’s apparently solo left hand – clenching on his backside (damn the git was consistent). Potter’s body – half pressed against his, crushing his own right side with Potter’s left while Potter’s right side and right hand…
Egad.
He’d wanted to catch Potter masturbating but this?
“I, Uhm P, Potter?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re uhh, that is… you’re… wanking?” Draco wished his voice hadn’t risen to ‘squeak’ pitch by the last word, but he had the impression that Potter still would have been chuckling against his throat no matter how offhand he’d sounded.
“Well done, ten points to Slytherin… really.”
Draco blushed. “Do you… think you might, I don’t know…. Stop?”
Harry raised his head, a blurred green gaze resting on Draco’s flushed countenance with a sort of amused curiosity.
“Stop? I don’t think so, Malfoy. In fact, I had rather thought that when you came knocking on the door and bleating to be let in that you ahh… understood, precisely what it was I was doing and had, I hoped, come to… lend a hand?”
“Lend a hand?” Draco repeated numbly, still too aware of the slow motion of Potter’s right hand beneath the folds of his untucked school shirt to focus on more than the implications of that movement. Potter’s hand was on his cock. Potter was masturbating – because of him.
“Well, yeah,” Harry husked gently, resuming his not so gentle biting and sucking just beneath Draco’s ear, “You did, after all, cause my uhh ‘problem’ so it seemed fitting that you be here to help me ‘cure’ myself…”
Potter’s mouth pressed back over Draco’s, so the blond's quiet “Help you?” was rather muffled by the insertion of Potter’s questing tongue. He was too distracted (again) by that soft mouth to realise the intent of the Gryffindor’s hands until he found his own being pushed down beneath body-warmed fabric to curve his hand around something throbbing, hard and hot, Potter’s gasp suddenly striking home the enormity of the action.
Squeaking in shock, Draco’s hand clenched reflexively under Harry's and the brunet hissed between his teeth and nipped at the Slytherin’s lower lip. “Too hard, Malfoy… take it easy.”
“But, I, you… I’m…?”
Draco’s incoherent spluttering were cut off as Harry groaned deep in his throat and leaned heavily against the door, his hand on the blond’s having slid those slim white fingers from root to tip and Draco found he could barely breathe.
He, Draco Malfoy, had Harry Potter’s - ‘the’ Harry Potter - cock in his hand and he had ‘no’ idea what to do about it. His eyes were fixed on the rucked material of Potter’s shirt over and above his appropriated hand, watching as the slow bunch and slide of white coincided with the terrifying new sensation of slick flesh sliding over his palm. He tried to slacken his grip beneath Potter’s but the added gap merely caused his fist to twist and slip slightly against the crown and Potter let out a yelp as he threw his head back against the door in startled pleasure.
“M, Malfoy…?” he gasped, but bit the sound off as, to his obvious horror, a low discontented whine escaping him, the bathroom was suddenly invaded by what sounded like a virtual gaggle of third years.
“Nu uh! It’s totally not my fault, I TOLD you to quit it first, and you wouldn’t!”
“So that made it ok for you to throw your inkpot at me?”
“Why are YOU even upset? It didn’t hit YOU!”
“I said duck!!!!”
“Well, that’s just great, because yelling ‘Duck’ just as your inkpots smashing all over me completely makes it not your fault!”
“See?”
“I was being sarcastic!!!”
A crooked smile stopped Harry from appearing completely frustrated, his appreciation for the humour of the situation making Draco’s mouth quirk in sympathy until he realised Potter had relinquished his grip above Draco’s, leaving him stood there, hand clamped on Potter’s hard-on apparently by his own volition.
He turned his head, surprised by Potter’s having released him, only to have his mouth claimed gently, a murmur of soft bliss against his lips when his hand tightened fractionally in shock, a shudder traversing the Gryffindor’s entire body as he bit back his obvious enjoyment.
A fuse lit and fizzed almost painfully in his skull as a realisation struck him like the infamous bolt on Potter’s brow. Potter had surrendered his pleasure to ‘him’. Draco was in control of Harry Potter and all he had to do was keep his hand exactly where it was.
Draco shivered. He was going to enjoy this.
The third years were still bitching amongst each other about who was going to explain the ink stains all over the unfortunate member of their group as Potter let his lips slide gently over Draco’s, his attempts to slow his breathing almost amusing to Draco now as he began to move his hand back and forth with a sudden burst of speed that had the Gryffindor pulling back with a strangled heave of breath against the blond’s smug smile.
Wide green eyes bored into verging on spiteful grey as what seemed suddenly hideously, dreadfully loud slick sounds now came from where Draco’s hand sped on Harry's flesh, thankfully obliterated by the splashing and whining and stomping of the younger boys.
‘Mal-foy’ No noise, only Potter’s mouth forming his name and Draco shuddered, his thigh slipping between Potter’s, pressing his now insistent hardness into the Gryffindor’s unyielding sinews as he leant in to lap his tongue tip lightly over the curve of that bitten lower lip, revelling in the tremors he had caused.
He was so lost in his absorption in Potter's apparently shameless pleasure that it was several moments after the echo of the bathroom door slamming in the younger students wake before he let the connection between their mouths break for desperately required air.
They stood there, panting a moment, Draco's hand still idly stroking Potter's cock even as his hips hitched and pressed slowly against the Gryffindor's leg, before Harry's rather amused voice broke the silence.
"Enjoying yourself there, Malfoy?"
Draco would have been rather put off by the smug smile tilting the corners of that red mouth, but he could hear the breathlessness, knew that gentle gasp between words was caused by him and he couldn’t help but lean in to nip and smother that tiny smile with his own lips.
"No more than you, Potter… but then, how could you not? Just standing there, letting me do all the work to get you off? If I didn't know better I'd say you planned this."
A snort. "Hardly, Malfoy. After all, 'you' planned this, I only added the bit where you get to put those pretty white hands of yours to work."
"Me?" Even if Draco could have quickly conjured a halo he would never have pulled off the arch innocence he so badly practised, squeezing just a little too tightly as he sped up his rhythm and batted his eyelashes at roughly the same pace. "Now why in Merlin's name would I have wanted to plan this?"
Potter's arm had snuck about Draco's waist and tightened perceptibly with every jut of Draco's hips against him and Draco now found himself winding his free arm up about Potter’s neck to keep their heads anchored together as they teetered in position, each rocked by the motion of Draco's body as Harry clung to the door with the hand previously controlling the Slytherin's.
Harry laughed, breathlessly as the tension began to build in his body, aware now of how the blond had turned them slightly to press him against the door with his own writhing body, keeping him captive at both hips and lips with a smirk belied by the need shining in his eyes.
"Now come on, Malfoy," Harry ground out between increasingly more frequent moans, "I already 'fessed up to this bit. Admit it, you were doing your bloody utmost to wind me up back there, all that twisting and, and turning, and uhh, pushing yourself on me, like that…"
Draco's laughter was tremulous itself with the arousal coursing through him with each electric jolt of his body against Potter's, each jerk and spasm of the flesh within his grip as he recalled Potter's expression back in the store cupboard.
"You trying to say you didn't like it, Potty? Because I have the distinct recollection of your rather enjoying it - even with Snape watching… you filthy git."
"What I 'liked', Malfoy, was your tight little backside rammed right up against me and you know it, knew it then, too… whole idea I'd say. Get Potter all hot and bothered then walk away… am I right?"
Draco's hand stopped.
"You calling me a 'tease', Potter?" He leaned in to breathe the words against the brunet’s now shining temple, feeling the tremors rolling through the slender form and knew himself to be utterly in control.
"Cock tease." The whispered words barely made it to Draco's ear.
"Excuse me?" He squeezed just that fraction too tight once more.
"Not... uhhhnngh… not just a tease, you git… a fucking cock tease… getting off on uhh, on getting me hard then… then walking away."
A blond brow lifted infinitesimally. "You think so?"
Green eyes opened from where they'd flickered shut at the pleasure pain of Draco's tight grip, an all too Slytherin smirk marring the mindless submission Draco had been so enjoying.
"I know so. You wanted to get me hot then walk away... but you forgot just how fucking much you like 'this', how much you 'want' this and got us both too hot, too hard to even stick to your own master-plan. You wanted to be back in charge, wanted to take control of this, of me… and for just a moment, the barest moment back in that cupboard…"
Harry's eyes darkened and he leaned in, whispering harshly against Draco's now silent mouth.
"Back in that cupboard you 'had' the control, even with Snape there, half the class, the whole fucking world watching I would have done 'anything' just to keep your body tight against mine…"
"Anything?" Draco muttered roughly, letting his lips drag viciously over the word and into a hard kiss.
Harry exhaled hard through his nostrils, body quivering even under Draco stationary clasp. “What do you want me to say, Malfoy?" he gasped back against the porcelain skin, "That I'd have knelt and begged you? Sucked you, perhaps? God, maybe I'd have even done both, right there with your own house head watching… begged you with my mouth full of your cock, Malfoy, that what you want me to say?"
He bit hard into Draco's lower lip and found himself smiling at the squeak of pain it produced rather more than the jerk forwards of Draco's hips against his thigh, and he pulled back enough to fix the Slytherin’s gaze with his own smug stare.
"Really. Fucking. Unlikely, Malfoy. But you'll never know now, will you? You 'had' it, had the moment you've been bloody 'craving' and you lost it because you just can't help yourself. You want this, and you want me and that’s just too much for you to handle. You can't control me when you can barely control yourself, 'Draco'. I’ve won this and you know it."
Something kindled then in those grey eyes and Harry fancied they blazed bright silver before they were lost again to the gleaming black pupils, spread wide as the blond leaned in to cruelly bite and kiss at Harry's startled mouth.
"You think I've lost control of this?" he spat, hand suddenly leaping back into life back and forth across Harry's length with such ferocity a wail of pleasure seemed to erupt from Harry's very core. "Let's see, shall we, Potter? Let's see how this turns out now. I can still stop, I can still walk away, leave you here fucking yearning for my hand on your dick… you want that? You fucking want me to stop this now, Potter?"
"NO… god, no, Mal-FOY uhhhhhhhhh, fuck…. God, no… don't stop, don't stop…."
Harry's spine was arching so far now that only the tip of his head and his backside still pressed into the door, undulating his abdomen and panting harshly as Draco ground into him, his strokes almost blurring on the slick flesh, a slim triumphant smile tilting the corners of his mouth even as he crushed it back against the Gryffindor’s.
"I didn't think so,” he hissed.
Their rocking, grinding and panting increased to the point where the clack of bone on wood and teeth on teeth seemed deafening and the boys were obliged to part lips in order to keep going without passing out, settling for tangling tongues between their mouths in a style reminiscent of that hideously over the top porno style kiss Draco had so scorned in the past.
Potter was close, Draco could tell. The night before, when Potter was going to come he'd been dragging in mouthfuls of air and letting them back out on exactly such tortured sounds as he was emitting now and the thrashing beneath his not particularly gentle ministrations was reaching an almost convulsive state.
"Ahhhh… ohhh, oh god… Malfoy, fuck…. Malfoy, uhhhhh god…. Fffuuuuuu-uuuuuck…. Yesssssss…"
Draco smiled as Potter, shook and hid his face against his neck. Any second now.
"F…fuuuuck…" Draco might not have caught it, might not have heard Harry's whimpered curse had it not been spoken against his own skin at the precise moment hot jets of semen all too suddenly 'not' his own shot against his hand and wrist, but before the moment could be actually processed by his overwhelmed brain, Harry chose to stifle his shout of pleasure on Draco's leaping pulse point.
Sharp white teeth sunk into equally white skin and the shock of pain that echoed the action both pulled and pushed Draco to the brink, keeping him hovering on the edge of bliss as pleasure coursed through (and apparently out of) the Gryffindor's body until he slumped heavily against him.
Draco was startled. He realised that Potter had been hard for quite some time at this point, but he'd seemed to come a great deal harder than he had the previous night. No sooner than the thought crossed his mind that it was because of 'him' then pleasure shot through him at the idea, a muted moan falling from his lips and Harry lifted his head at the sound.
"Mmm." he said appreciatively, albeit bizarrely smugly, before reaching in to gently pull Draco's now limp hand from his sensitive flesh, careful to not disturb the gleaming splatter of come now decorating the slim white hand as he pressed it and its counterpart up against the wall over Draco's head. He shifted their bodies slightly, sliding them from the door to the wall where he let his full weight rest against the still panting, bright eyed Slytherin, letting his eyes rake him over from the deep red bite mark at his throat, to the swollen lips and feverish gaze, up to the reddened and now wet fingers.
"Mmmmm,” he hummed again and thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth, rotating his hips firmly against the throbbing ridge in the Slytherin’s well cut trousers, waiting until the blond whined and pushed insistently into his body before pulling back slightly.
"Control,” he whispered and bit back a chuckle at the Slytherin’s frazzled expression. "You had it twice… you 'lost' it twice, Malfoy."
He released Draco's hands and stepped back, ruthlessly crushing the bizarre pang of guilt at the blond's wounded whimper.
"You said it, you had the power. All you had to do was walk away… but you just 'couldn't'." Draco's eyes were wide with disbelief as Harry's hand released the catch on the door. "So now I will."
He stepped through, drinking in the view again: Draco Malfoy, almost sprawled against the wall, utterly dishevelled, debauched, and 'aching' for release.
"Looks like I won 'again', Malfoy."
Draco's mouth worked noiselessly, his brain unable to comprehend the abrupt change of pace, body trembling with aborted pleasure 'til the only thing he had left at his disposal kicked in as Potter turned to walk out of the bathroom.
"I FUCKING HATE YOU, POTTER!" he almost screamed, the words dripping fury and venom as he struggled to bring himself fully upright to better stalk out and just hurt Potter so bad, when Harry's mocking laugh echoed back to him as the Gryffindor exited the room.
"Likewise, Malfoy… likewise."
And then he was gone.
Draco waited perhaps five full minutes before actually giving in and letting out a positive 'howl' of rage, he spun and kicked the door seven times in quick succession and when he doubled over, the arousal now no more than the quaking of his limbs, he told himself the tears streaking his face were of fury and nothing more.
TBC.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 01:20 am (UTC)Right back atcha ;P
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 01:21 am (UTC)*does dance of joy too*
Am glad you're glad to see it ;)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 02:03 am (UTC)and just in case no one has sent this to you, I thought of your lj name when someone posted it on my flist. LadyVader
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Date: 2005-07-07 10:43 am (UTC)And I'm glad you liked it hon *huggles* :)
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Date: 2005-07-07 05:32 am (UTC)I so owe you Struck fanart, no doubt aobut it. And my heart hurts so much for Draco!!!! >.< Oh hell yeah, Harry needs to be taken down a notch and I believe that Draco can do it! Oh, my poor spoil little rich boy! So HOT and NEEDY and now I'm frustrated!
Bloody fantastic. Just bloody hell!!! If drawing you fanart is what it takes to possible get more "Struck", I am so there! *bats eyelashes at you*
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 10:49 am (UTC)Ah I'm so pleased you like it hon, I SO had to get going on it after that beautiful Precious piccie and do you remember that I said I thought it'd make about 18 parts? Well,I started drawing up a chapter plan and I'm up to nearly 30 parts and there's still maybe a chapter or two after those needed just to finish it off. *shoots self* Looks like I'll be writing Struck til I die ;)
and its really tickling me how furious people are on Draco's behalf ;)I have to say he sort of got what was coming to him but yeah, Harry took it too far and it'll be addressed in part 7, I promise. *bats eyelashes back* Struck fanart, you say? :P
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 07:06 am (UTC)Wow, wow, wow.. I really can't think of anything else damnit. my brain is mush, thank you very much.
that was SO WRONG of Harry (you should have heard my valley girl accent for a second.. tis funny).. not cool to leave Draco, when he finished him off!!! please, please, please tell me Draco knocks him to size.. really grusome too.. i want tears damnit! :)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 09:15 am (UTC)Loved this fic and you finally updated...and what an update.
Hot, sexy, wow.
Fantastic - but we now need another updae quick - poor Draco can't be lef like that. Bad Harry!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 10:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:Eeexceleeent!
Date: 2005-07-07 09:39 am (UTC)*shivers at the course of events*
I'm with
*hearts you and your muses*
Re: Eeexceleeent!
Date: 2005-07-07 10:56 am (UTC)lol, which one can't help himself?? ;P
And hurrah for rollercoasters ;) I promise it won't be as long for the next loop di loop :D
no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 10:47 am (UTC)That said...*glares in Harry's general direction* Bad, bad Harry! He needs to stop being mean to Draco and making him cry, and admit that he wants the spoiled little Slytherin just as badly as Draco wants him. Yes. *glares again* Wonderful chapter of course, and now I shall be adding my voice to the rest, saying, 'Please oh please let Draco make Harry pay, and pay dearly!' Hee.
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Date: 2005-07-07 11:01 am (UTC)Ah well, it'll all be sorted in the next part but I've got to tell you, I'm not about revenge or payback at this point.... although there is obviously a debt to be paid in full ;P
And YAY for your adoring the fic, I adore You for adoring It. :D
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 12:44 pm (UTC)I eagerly await the next intallment *___*
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Date: 2005-07-08 01:05 pm (UTC)I promise the new part won't take as long as this one did but then you're new to the fic so ;) at least you didn't want my blood for the past year or so ;P
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Date: 2005-07-07 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-07 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 06:09 am (UTC)*licks you*... oh, I'm sorry, I get carried away sometimes.
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Date: 2005-07-08 01:12 pm (UTC)And YAAY! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :D but don't count 'so' much on Draco's retaliation, he'll get what he deserves, certainly, but he won't need to destroy Harry to make it happen...... ah, you'll see ;)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 05:19 am (UTC)this is the girl that read all of your hp stories at your archive and felt the need the email you after reading each one some months ago (like in november or something), just so you know
you... that... wow
and poor draco left seething in the bathroom all alone, harry is getting some freaky sadistic pleasure from all of this, not that draco doesn't desrve it, but still, i just want to hug him, or poke him with a long stick ::cackles::
maybe it all feeds into this minor masochistic sex streak that he is building up
and i loved how you wrote draco's reaction to ron and hermione, it was perfect
::prays to the fandom gods that it woin't be a year before you update this again:: i can't WAIT to see what revenge draco TRIES to cook up for harry
love, love, love
keep the hits coming
~
rachel
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:48 pm (UTC)And HELL yes on the masochistic sex steak, the story is all about that, the poor boy won't understand it but give me another 31 chapters and I promise it'll all work out ;) ..... also no, it won't be another year ;P
Thanks for the great FB hon, *mwah* :D
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 09:52 pm (UTC)I love that Harry left him, (Although, Draco crying is so - awww... *pets him* someone should have warned the boy that Harry was almost a Slytherin too.) I think he WANTS Draco to take control and this is certainly one way to motivate him. I can't wait to see the revenge. I think Harry should have to beg for mercy. He better hope Draco doesn't indulge in his inner exhibitionist.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:50 pm (UTC)Thank god, someone who likes that Harry buggered off!!! But yeah, Harry's all too Slytherin at the mo, so yeah, he'll be softening up a touch soon.... and Draco's inner exhibitionist will be making 'several' appearances throughout the series ;P I hope you likes.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-10 07:30 am (UTC)damn good
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:52 pm (UTC)No death please ;)who will love H/D if we all die off reading fanfic, hmm? ;) But yes, lol, Harry is mean & cruel yes, but he'll change his ways (a lil bit) soon enough..... and am keeping the NC17 rating as long as I can ;P
Tee -Hee!!
Date: 2005-07-10 11:19 am (UTC)Blue
Re: Tee -Hee!!
Date: 2005-07-13 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-10 03:26 pm (UTC)Poor Draco...ha ha
This is more than worth for waiting!!! >O<
and now....how many millions years I have to wait for the next one? ;P
But I think it's worth to wait,right?
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:55 pm (UTC)ugh
Date: 2005-07-12 02:48 pm (UTC)*can't even talk right now*
OMG FREAKING AMAZING SEX!!!!!!
Re: ugh
Date: 2005-07-13 05:57 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked.... ;P
lsafjdlf? Hmmmm.... *gives you cookie* Let me know if you ever copyright that language, I'd like to learn it :)
Re: ugh
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 03:05 pm (UTC)need i tell you i love you?*bats eyelashes*
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:59 pm (UTC)'Drakie' not only likes to be marked but methinks he needs it..... or at least he does in my mind ;) and who would you rather have mark you, Voldie or Harry? No contest really :P
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 06:01 pm (UTC)*uses own 'Malfoy' icon* Mmmmm, perhaps we should slash icons sometime ;) and I promise it won't be too long til the next update :)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 11:51 pm (UTC)You know how much I love this and it's actually the only HP WIP I still keep track off.
Harry better stop being such an ass and fucking with Draco's mind. If he doesn't I hope the revenge is served cold. As ice.
I hope you don't intend to make us wait another year for the update ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-24 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-18 01:41 pm (UTC)i love it!
:)
hope to see more in the not so distant future.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-24 10:22 pm (UTC)