Humbled 7

[ladyvader]

Ok, UNBETAD because (quite frankly) my beta has had MORE than enough on her plate of recent, so as ever the mistakes are purely my own. ;P

For anyone needing a recap 1 thru 6 are in my LJ memories but to make things easier:
Previous 6 Parts of Humbled

Hope you Enjoy.

Title: Humbled 7: My Hero.
Author: LadyVader
Archive: Always ask the author first please.
Pairing/s: H/D.
Rating: NC17 I guess... To be safe. ;)
Warnings: Angst, Violence, Language, and SLASH! Flee li'l homophobes... Fleeeeeeeeeeee! Oh, and an APPALLINGLY written Irish accent. My apologies. ;)
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: For Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire


Humbled 7: My Hero:

(Previously)

“No!” Harry cried, desperately trying to wheel about on the hopelessly overused broom and Neville blinked in confusion at his friends apparent distress, “Draco, NO!”

And so Draco found himself, most unpleasantly, tumbling into the night once more from yet another great height but this time it was excusable for Draco to scream because this time no-one followed Draco down to save him and so he plummeted, helpless, eyes wide and focused on Harry’s horrified face, the Gryffindor’s anguished cries echoing after him down into the darkness.

Draco had, quite frankly, had better nights.

True he’d spent a rather large part of the night with his tongue sensuously intertwined with a seemingly irresistible boy hell-bent on devouring him whole, but then, the time spent without Potter’s lips on his, Potter’s hands roaming his body, and the god-damned taste of Potter in his mouth, had been mostly filled with terror and sudden plunges into darkness.

When he weighed the pro’s and cons of the night against each other, he found the cons ever so slightly outweighed the pros… of course, he had no doubt things might have been different had he not been right smack dab in the middle of the worst con so far that evening.

He was higher than before. He could tell that by the way his body twisted and spiralled in the night air, what he had hoped could be a split second two foot tumble stretching into the length of a full blooded scream from both him and Potter as he fell the seemingly countless distance to the ground.

“Draco! Draco NO!!!!!!”

Dimly he could see a shape twisting in the air above him and with a smothered, nearly ignored glimmer of delight, he realised it was Potter, diving, dropping, clumsy upon his broom with the extra weight of Longbottom slowing his hopeless attempt to save the Slytherin.

Longbottom. He had pushed him, pushed him out into the sky. Had Draco not been arrowing towards the earth he would have smiled. Potter, in his current falsely enamoured state at least, would not be pleased.

“Draco! Malfoy!! Malfoy!”

Potter’s frantic scream held real terror now and suddenly the wind wasn’t whistling quite as keenly as it coursed over Draco’s flailing limbs and he tensed. He was closer to the ground now, closer…. Closer…

“Quem Pessum Exorior!!”

A blast of magic surrounded him as he collided hard with the ground, the impact that should have shattered his bones springing him back upwards several feet into the air to fall once, then twice back against the now solid grass. His breath whistled from his lungs in shock and relief, eyes finally coming to settle, as his body rocked and stilled, upon the figure brandishing a wand above him.

“Stand Up Malfoy. Now.”

Granger.

Draco, heart bursting in his throat, slowly pulled himself to his feet, eyes trained on the wand so carefully levelled at him.

“Draco?! Oh thank god… that was amazing Herm, like a trampoline, I…”

Potter, ground to a halt just behind the still shaking Slytherin, held his hands up in horror as the wand shot up to point squarely at his chest.

“Herm? What are you, uhh, doing?”

Draco made as though to back away from the bizarrely threatening girl only to find himself on the end of far too many wands for his liking as Grangers groupies clustered together, ready to obey her every psychotic whim.

“Harry, bring Neville. We’re all going inside ‘now’.” Neville whimpered and Draco marvelled at this being the same boy who had mere moments before sent him plunging to his doom, watching as Harry tightened his grip on the pudgy boys forearm at the menace in Hermione’s tone.

“Why? What do you want, Hermione?”

A dry, humourless chuckle did nothing to detract from Hermione’s distinct ‘Dark Witch’ persona. “Oh Harry, you know what I want and you know why I need Neville, too, otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to take him. Now, we’re all going inside and you two are going to get back to eating each other alive and I’m going to watch.”

Neville whimpered again and Draco’s eyes narrowed as he noted that bloody Irish boy, Finnegan impulsively step forward at the sound.

“But you don’t need Nev to watch us Herm, what else are you up to?”

A Grinch-esque smile spread across the frenzied feminine features. “I need him, Harry, to be there to make sure, if whatever you’re cursed with wears off, that I will have been taught precisely how to recapture the affect… perhaps I can even improve it, make it permanent…”

Harry swallowed and his flickered to Draco’s briefly, oddly hurt at the stricken look on the blond’s face, unaware that the look accompanied Draco’s realisation that the effects truly were temporary. Draco couldn’t explain it, but for that brief second on the broom before Longbottom had pushed him and Harry had been smiling back at him, rich with promise and purpose he’d felt… Happy. Now there would be no flying back out into the woods together, triumphant and ready to end the spell. He’d known it would end but he had thought, or rather hoped maybe, that perhaps… maybe it wouldn’t end, just for a little while longer, just long enough to…

It was of no matter now. Granger was going to march them back into the castle and true enough there’d be kissing, most likely groping too, but now it really would be because of the spell and not… well... It ‘was’ all because of the spell and he’d been a fool to consider the possibility of it being anything else. And now it looked to become permanent, glued to Potter via hot kisses and such without the slightest shred of actual want because they’d be forced to do. It wouldn’t be real. Draco’s shoulders sagged suddenly. It had never been real.

“No.”

All eyes shot to Harry.

“No way Herm. You’re crazy, worse than me and Malfoy, if you think I’ll let you do this.” Harry took a step backwards, his own wand drawn and pointed towards Hermione, as he pulled Neville with him.

“I really don’t see how you have a choice, Harry. I’ve got Malfoy… you won’t leave without him, don’t even pretend that you would, so all I need do is stupefy you and…”

“You ‘really’ think you can outcast me, Herm?” Harry tilted his head in seeming amusement, watching as his slightly deranged friend pursed her lips, “And even if you could, what’s to stop Neville here from bolting? No. This won’t work… at least not this way…”

Hermione snorted. “Oh, suddenly you think you’ve got better ideas than me, Harry? Suck some of Malfoy’s brains out with his tongue did you?”

Draco’s hand twitched at his sides and he ached to slap the smug look from that bloody ‘filthsome’ girls face. How dare she say such a thing to Harry… not only was it HIS job but all he could see now was the flash of pleasure on the boy wonders face when Draco had insisted he wasn’t stupid before.

Harry, to his credit, hadn’t even vaguely flinched at his friends easy abuse of his intellect merely stood his ground apparently as steadfast as his reputation told and, to Draco’s obviously addled eyes, bizarrely appealing.

“You’ve got Draco, Hermione,” Harry began, seemingly impervious to the tremor of excitement that ran through the gathered hormone crazed teens at his careless use of the Slytherins given name, “and I have Neville.” He punctuated these last words by tightening his grip on the distressed boy’s arm even further, his eyes drifting near imperceptibly to Seamus, as Neville shrank yet further at his side.

“Y’see Herm, this way, with our, ah, current hostages, it won’t work. Not for either of us.”

Granger’s brow furrowed and Draco felt something creeping under his skin that twitched and tempted the corners of his lips upwards despite his minds desperate urges, his eyes locked on the sudden and slight narrowing of Potter’s own bright gaze. He’d seen that look before, at least twice that night. Shivering slightly as he realised that both times had preceded the Gryffindors lips on his, he crossed his arms and waited. If nothing else, he’d learned that Potter truly was a remarkable adversary.

“Go on,” Granger muttered, her usually brilliant mind dulled by her seething hormones, as she kept her wand trained on her tricky friend.

“I have Neville, but you want him in order to recreate whatever’s done this to me & Malfoy there. You have Malfoy…” He actually blushed and Draco fought back the impulse to surge forward and let his tongue trace the blush sailing high on Potter’s cheekbones, “and ‘I’ want him.” Another shimmy of delight ran through the groupies. “Ideally, we each want both… but that’s not happening.”

Hermione twitched slightly, brain working furiously in desperation to find fault with Harry's evaluation. True enough he had Neville, but she had Malfoy ‘and’ the band to back her up should he make a break for it… but what if Harry outcast her. He could and would, she knew it, and though she had faith that perhaps one of others might be able to stop Harry from fleeing with Malfoy, would they take the time to de-stupefy her or whatever before hauling the boys off to watch them shag? Would she, in their shoes? Hell no.

“What is it that you’re proposing Harry? Spit it out before I lose patience and let the mob here curse your boyfriend here, so his tongue tastes like butober pus.”

Draco shuddered before grinning as Harry mirrored his actions, distaste written plainly across his face.

“Ok Herm, remind me to not ever cross you once you’re, Ahhh… well, You again. Anyway… you want Neville to do whatever he did again, and I want Malfoy back… just in case you decide to try that Pus/Tongue thing out. Couldn’t be simpler really. We just swap.”

“Swap?” Squeaked Neville in terror.

“Swap?” Intoned Hermione in deeply suspicious tones.

“Swap.” Repeated Draco, sudden images of escape and near immediate clinches with the Boy who lived to Taste Surprisingly Good flavouring his tone with appreciation.

“Swap.” Reiterated Harry, smug as the obviousness had apparently escaped his brainy friend the smile fading from his face as her eyes glittered feverishly above an all too toothy smile.

“Oh, I don’t think so Harry. You really think I’d fall for that, actually just hand him right over? What do you take me for? You’d take him and Neville then I’m out on both counts. Oh yes, I certainly see why you’d think that was the solution!”

Harry's face was suddenly granite-like and Draco had the urge to slap himself for the delightful shiver that coursed through him at the sheer disdain in Potter’s eyes. He’d been right before, he ‘was’ sick… but at least it was sort of fun.

“I’ll give you Neville.” Harry's voice was toneless yet firm, his eyes somehow conveying his disappointment in his friend “You’ll give me Draco. No tricks, no reneging, no wands, no nothing.”

Hermione stepped from foot to foot, uneasy. “And that’s supposed to convince me? You say you won’t try anything and that’s that?”

The entire crowd, Draco, Neville and Hermione included all caught their collective breath, as Harry seemed to gain at least five inches in height, his spine stiffening in offence, insult brightening his eyes yet further. “You have my Word Hermione. As a Gryffindor, you have it. What more do you need?” His words dripped with recrimination and Draco delighted in the bookworm’s slight shrink beneath her friend’s displeasure.

“Your word?” She was suddenly a great deal less imperious and Neville seemed to visibly relax under the protection of the seeming dragon slayer.

“You have it.” Harry nodded and even before Draco had time to process the events he was being propelled towards the brunet, Granger’s wand almost sticking through his spine 'til Potter’s gentle 'tut-tut' had her retreating a step or so.

He was within a step of Harry when that odd light shone in the green depths again, tingles shooting from Draco’s toes to the roots of his somehow still perfect hair and before he had time to consider the possibility of Potter’s being up to something, Potter had him.

Harry had simply surged forward, one arm sliding tightly about Draco’s waist and literally jerking him up against him, his head at that perfect angle that let his tongue slide deep into the Slytherin’s absurdly willing mouth, silencing Draco’s shocked but pleased gasp with his own lips.

The other gasps, however, were of such a volume that deep in the heart of the forbidden forest the inhabitants grumbled and bitched about those troublesome teenagers ruining the neighbourhood.

It was with a definite sagging effect that had Draco clinging to Potter’s disturbingly respectable biceps and an even more disturbingly erotic, slick noise that Harry separated their mouths, daring to dart a smugly triumphant smile towards the onlookers.

“Fool me once – shame on you, fool me twice….”

Hermione’s smile was perhaps ten times as smug as Harry's but the triumph in his eyes dimmed not a jot at her mocking tone.

“Did you really think I’d fall for that twice, Harry? Let myself get so caught up in watching that I’d freeze, let you escape again?”

Harry's arm was still about Draco’s waist so the blond was all too aware of the movements of the rest of the Gryffindor’s body, noting silently that the brunet had somehow worked his wand into his hand. He blinked in surprise as he realised Harry must have done it during the kiss and was aware of something close to awe. Potter ‘definitely’ had his Slytherin moments.

“Herm, I wasn’t trying to fool or freeze you, I promise.”

Hermione softened, just ever so slightly, at the innocent and earnest response from her friend but Draco heard and saw something entirely different.

I wasn’t trying to fool or freeze you...

Draco had been only halfway into his crossing from Granger to Harry when the brunet had leapt forward and all but seized his mouth and everything had just stopped, there and then.

Including Longbottom.

Neville had only made it barely two quaking steps to Draco’s more self assured if suspicious strides and had barely made it level with the blond when the pair had begun their impromptu embrace and had been frozen, fixated, from that point onwards.

Just as Harry planned it.

At the exact same moment that this realisation struck both Draco and Hermione, Harry had lashed one arm into the back of Draco’s robes, leapt forward with the Slytherin in tow to Neville’s side and (to the shock of all) stupefied Hermione.

“For fucks sake RUN!” Harry yelled, grabbing hold of Neville’s clammy hand and bolting out away from the vague lights of the castle, releasing Draco just long enough to hold high his wand, shrieking again for his trusty Firebolt.

“Potter, this didn’t work all that well last time!!!” Draco bellowed as he ran, too rushed and breathless to glare at the blundering and obviously bewildered boy lumbering slightly to their rear.

“You got a better idea!?” Harry bellowed right back, ears straining for the whisper of his broom swinging up alongside them.

“Yeah! Ditch Butterball!”

Harry screeched to a halt, pulling Draco to a standstill alongside him, yanking him round so they stood nearly nose to nose, Neville panting to a stop behind them.

“Look, I know he’s not exactly done a lot tonight to endear himself to you but I wouldn’t leave you and I won’t leave him either!”

“Potter...” Draco started when a loud crash to their rear punctuated the impending arrival of their pursuers and, to the surprise of all three breathless boys, Seamus Finnegan burst, solo, from the bushes, ahead of his peers, wand brandished high and fixed on Harry.

“You’re not takin’ Nev, Harry! I won’t let you!”

Harry blinked, Neville gaped and Draco felt Harry's beloved broom nudge it’s handle against the backs of his legs, still hidden by the cloak draped over it as with nothing short of a roar of fury, Hermione and followers burst into view.

Draco made an executive decision.

Snatching at the rich fabric swept over the smooth wood handle, he flung the excess material up over Harry and himself, Neville simply too many steps (and frankly too much effort) to include in this, the new escape plan. Fortunately Potter caught on quickly and swung his leg over the broom, taking the time to scream ‘Expelliarmus’ towards his raging friend before she had time to Accio the cloak, broom or even him to her side.

They swung up and off, back into the night, Draco twisted oddly behind Potter to hold his wand up, ready (SO ready) to hurl hexes should the need arise when Finnegan leapt forward to clasp Longbottom tight against him.

“God,” Harry abruptly called back, Gryffindor guilt trip already taking hold, “I left Neville.”

“Don’t worry about Longbottom,” Draco replied, settling his chin against Harry's shoulder, “He’ll be just fine.”

Neville found himself seized, swung away from where he heard the whoosh and swoop of Harry flying away into the night without him.

"He, he left me?" he whispered in anguished tones of disbelief, blinking huge eyes unseeingly for a moment into his 'captors' face. "He said he wouldn't leave me behind..."

"Don' you worry yer head Nev," Seamus crooned, all thick Irish brogue as the stunned wizard shook in his arms, finally realising just who held him, "Ol' Seam's gotcha now, ain't nothin' going t'get you with me here… Not even our Herm, k?"

"S…Seamus?" Neville gasped, breathless with hope and the warm body holding him close.

The taller boy found himself blushing at the wide-eyed reverence beaming up at him, and let a smile tilt his lips upwards. "Aye, Nev, its Seamus. I've got you."

****************************************

Encumbered by its prior load and somewhat extreme ill use, Harry's Firebolt rather sulkily set down in a clearing not too far from the castle, rhythmically jerking here and there as if to protest its all too frequent passengers and abrupt dives.

Harry staggered off immediately upon landing, yanking the cloak from over them in fitful snatches, leaning on a tree, nearly doubled over with guilt.

"I… I can't believe I left him…" he whispered, starting when a hand settled awkwardly on his shoulder.

"Potter, stop freaking out, it's fine, that Finnegan had him in hand when we were flying off and going by the way he was watching him earlier, I reckon Granger's got about as much chance of harming him as she did out-casting you." He grinned appreciatively. "By the way… Nice."

Harry spun round, eyes fixed on the apparently heartless (and why was he even surprised?) Slytherin. "I left Neville behind, I said I wouldn't and I 'did'!"

Draco didn't budge, refused to let the Gryffindor's bizarre and seemingly overactive sense of guilt push him away from his prize, his newly discovered and bewilderingly enjoyable partner in crime.

“Potter,” he placed hands on the brunets shoulders to twist him round to face him, “You tried to take him with us, chances are he’d have broken free or tried to off me again but the point is, yeah, ok, it didn’t work but you did try to take him, take us both with you.”

Harry began to shake his head, remorse written plainly across his features only stilled when (against character) Draco lifted a hand to soothe and calm the Gryffindor, cupping his jawline to draw their eyes together.

“Potter, you did everything you could – you were even sneaky and deceitful. In my books, you covered pretty much everything… you even lied to Granger, did I mention ‘Bravo’?”

Harry smiled weakly, pulling away to go and snatch up his debilitated broom, smoothing the quivering handle with an absent palm. “Actually, I didn’t ‘just’ lie, I broke my word… a MUCH bigger deal by Gryffindor standards. I’ll probably be banned from the Tower after this is all done with.”

Draco leant against a tree, liking the way he could casually lean, elegantly propped while his libido jerked and spasmed over the patch of skin showing at Potter’s nape, the opening of his shirt, the brunets gaze still firmly fixed upon his broom.

“Yeah, got to say it, Potter, even I was surprised at that… especially considering I’ve put myself in your hands solely based on the strength of your ‘word of a Gryffindor’.”

Harry grinned, shooting a blushing glance up through his lashes at the mention of the blond putting himself ‘in his hands’, shrugging loosely, “Yeah, well… I was running short on reckless Gryffindor ingenuity, ok? It was all I could think of.”

Turning, he gathered up his cloak and swept it up over his shoulder, the rich fabric swinging, a fold or two turned invisible side out so that it seemed a swathe of night had been cut through the boy who lived, now slowly walking away into the darkness.

“Anyway, you coming then, Malfoy? We’ve got a decent head-start but not a great one.”

Draco pushed away from the trunk and strode (as nonchalantly as possible) forward to catch up with the Gryffindor.

“It’s good enough, Potter, your girl’s all about deep thought and strategy. By now she should have figured out that she can’t catch us so her best bet is to just cut her losses on this cycle of whatever the hells wrong with us then catch us once she gets Longbottom to teach her how to do it again. Or worse, make it permanent.”

Harry shuddered, “Poor Neville.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Draco sympathised, trying to suppress the sudden lurch of gratification that rose up at the realisation that Potter wasn’t shivering in repulsion over the idea of their being permanently bound to each other in this, their warped passion.

He coughed, trying to push away the thought of him and Potter still together at the end of the year, bickering and bitching up onto the Hogwarts Express, then dragging each other up into empty compartments to… to… Well, perhaps the least thought about that the better.

“Anyway,” Draco ground out, dispelling images of being languidly sucked off in one of the closet-like lavatories aboard the train, “What were you up to, anyway? I mean, aside from giving you the chance to be a bad, baaaaaad Gryffindick,” this earned him the finger, “what was the point? You could have disappeared into the night with Longbottom, even got him to fix whatever it is he’s bloody hexed us with… after hopefully smacking the chubby little shit for shoving me, I hope.” That earned him a hefty smack on the arm himself.

“Don’t be bloody stupid Malfoy.”

“What? You mean you wouldn’t even have bollocked the twat for sending me earthbound? Gee, thanks a big bunch Potter!”

Harry stopped, Draco smacking unceremoniously into his back before shuffling back as the brunet turned to face him.

“Don’t.” Harry growled, the seriousness belied by an odd twinkle in his eyes, scarily Dumbledore-esque in its brightness.

“Don’t what?” Draco was breathless. He hated that. Fortunately he rather suspected that Potter liked it and, crazily enough, he liked that Potter liked it enough to sort of not hate it. Not ‘that’ much anyway.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“But… I don’t?” He bit his lip to keep from smiling, vaguely light headed as Potter took the step forward that brought them nearly nose to nose once more.

“I wasn’t talking about punishing Neville for pushing you. You know that.”

“So…what, then?”

Harry swiped his tongue over his lower lip, shamelessly enjoying the way the Slytherin’s eyes narrowed at the action. “You’re really saying you don’t know why I wanted to swap you for Neville?”

“I, I don’t know, I just… why? I mean, why do it, if your ‘word’ is such a big deal and you weren’t planning to actually give him up then, y’know… why?” Draco flushed, biting his lip even harder now at his lack of eloquence and instantly captivated when a deep blush spread from Potter’s throat upwards.

Harry shrugged, loose, casual gesture completely belied by the quick ignition in his eyes and suddenly his mouth was close, too close to Draco’s once more. “There are just some things,” he whispered, breath hot on Draco’s skin, “that are worth breaking your word for.” He let his lips catch briefly against the Slytherins before stepping back and turning away once more.

“I just never figured it’d be over you.”

Draco stopped in his tracks.

“Uhm… excuse me?”

His heart had already been doing an intricate two-step within his ribcage at the quick kiss the gittish Gryffindor had pressed upon him, having only barely registered the words before their full meaning hit him.

Harry turned, walking backwards as he continued on his path away from the school itself, “Oh, I don’t mean it offensively, y’know. It’s just I always thought if I ever was going to break my word - and I really wasn’t going to - then I’d do it over something… excusable? Y’know, Dark Lord, Dementor, Death Eater, et cetera.” He smiled almost ruefully, “Can’t say as I ever thought it’d be because I couldn’t stand the thought of not having you with me.”

He blushed darkly, kicking himself mentally for even having let the words slip out, turning and facing out into the forest, unaware of Draco’s lowered, rather ‘dropped’ jaw.

“You… you 'actually' broke your word…for me?” Draco’s breath whistled in his chest and Harry grimaced as he let regret tinge the warm, tingly feeling that had chased the actual admission from his lips.

“Yes, Malfoy,” he sighed long-sufferingly, “I broke my word for You.”

Now, different things affect different people in different ways. In most cases, for example, you would not purchase a bunch of flowers for a man and expect him to gush all over the place ooey gooey gratitude. Similarly no Hufflepuff would thank you for a charm to help cheat your friends and enemies or a Gryffindor appreciate a textbook on the finer points of studying for your Newts before entering Hogwarts... well, most Gryffindors wouldn't.

However, for Ravenclaws a sure-fire gift would be the afore mentioned text (the certain scary, hormonal Gryffindor included) and if you truly wanted to win over a Slytherin… Well.

Draco had always wanted a Gryffindor of his very own. A noble, annoyingly pure one might have done in a pinch, the purest and most noble had obviously been something of a catch even with the whole bloodthirsty fighting, biting, snarling thing, but now? A Gryffindor, the brightest shining greatest Gryffindor to have graced the school probably since Godric himself and because of him, Draco Malfoy, he’d broken his word.

He broke him. Him. Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter broke his word for him.

“For me.” Draco stated dully, his tone belying the almost painful desire suddenly raging through him and Harry halted, tired now, of the Slytherins seeming exultation in his downfall.

“Yes, Draco. Alllll for you, ok? Now… mmmff…!”

Harry suddenly very difficult to chastise the Slytherin for his overt interest in Harry's broken promise, in fact breathing was extremely difficult too, being that said Slytherin was now firmly attached to him at chest, groin and mouth.

Draco wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to cross from where he’d been standing to tongue deep in Potter’s mouth but insanely he found nothing had ever felt quite so good – and that included their frequent, bizarre and virtually violent clinches from earlier that evening. All he knew was that Potter had practically de-Gryffindorised himself all for him and that deserved something, the sort of reward you get for the best of achievements, the greatest prize there was: Him.

Stumbling backwards slightly, having dropped broom and cloak in favour of wrapping his arms about the blond currently hanging round his neck whilst suckling on his tongue and giving him what felt like an intricate upright lapdance, Harry fought for breath – but not that hard.

The brunet’s spine connected with a good broad trunk, the sudden impact enough to break the link between their lips, each dragging in a laboured breath and resting their foreheads against the other.

“Potter,” Draco breathed, shifting to drop his arms from their deathgrip, flung up about Harry’s neck to now sinuously twine about his shoulders, setting Salazaar spinning in his grave by leaning in to nuzzle and murmur softly at Harry's already moistened lips, “kiss me.”

Harry's skin was burning up, the Slytherin’s body pressed close and molten silver gaze doing alarming things to his equilibrium “J…just like that? Just ‘kiss me’? No fighting, no wordplay, no slowly increasing flirtatious banter? No steadily mounting sexual tension? No…”

“Potter?”

Draco was pressing closer, Harry's hands itching at his sides to seize and clutch at the paler boys gently curved ass and slim hips, “Y… yeah?”

A elegant white hand lifted to sift through the dark hair falling across his forehead before trailing down to deftly pluck the glasses from Harry's face, shushing his soft noise of distress with another nuzzle, gently placing them in Harry's front shirt pocket before gazing intently into unobstructed and not a little dazed green eyes.

“Harry…” the brunet shivered, hands losing the fight to resist the soft globes of Draco’s ass, skin prickling at the use of his given name, delighting in the way the blond’s breath caught when his hands clenched on his flesh, words wavering as he continued, a little breathlessly. “Harry… you, you’ve earned this, earned me… now take what you want.”

“What I want?” Harry's palm fitted under the curve of Draco’s derriere and lifted, causing the blond to lean forward, up on the balls of his feet, pressing his groin neatly into the Gryffindors and biting his lip at the smouldering heat already reflected in the emerald depths.

“Anything,” Draco rolled his hips none so subtly against the brunets, “Any-thing you want Potter,” he let his lower lip catch and cling against Harry's “Just… take it.”

Harry caught on fast that was one of the things Draco was starting to like about him. The Slytherins breath left him in a great jubilant ‘whoosh’ as Harry spun them to crush Draco back against the tree, resuming their position from before or rather positions as Potter managed to combine the delightful ‘against the trunk make out’ with lifting him to wrap his legs a la ‘up against the tower wall’ about Potters waist. Potter apparently liked to mix and match, Draco decided, as the Gryffindor abruptly added the heavy lip biting to the clinch as well. Another point in his favour.

At this rate he was going to have to write Mother and ask if he could keep Potter, he’d even exercise and feed him everyday.

All frivolous thoughts of possibly putting a studded leather collar on the Gryffindor, or allowing Potter to do the same to him (ooh, with matching wrist or perhaps handcuffs?) were abruptly banished by the slick stab and slide of the brunets tongue against his. Harry's hands reached up to un-twine his own from about his neck, pressing their hands out, palm to palm, arms stretched out away from their bodies against the tree, spread-eagling Draco so their chests dragged and crushed up against each other, making breathing difficult and coherent thought impossible.

“Fuck yeah, Potter.” Draco whimpered despite himself, “take me.”

“Yes,” Harry ground out, bruising their lips in a searing kiss, “Yes.”

*********************************************

Neville was having quite possibly the most unbelievable and life altering night of his life.

He’d thought that he’d forever top the righteous revenge lists by humiliating the boy who’d made his life a misery almost from his first lesson at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy should have been hiding in his dorm by now, so mortified and upset that ‘finally’ he would know how it felt to be Neville or any other student he’d been so cruel to over the years. Now, instead, he’d not only taken one of Neville’s very dearest friends and turned all their worlds topsy-turvy by publicly making out with him, but he’d turned Neville’s entire existence so utterly upside down that he thought he might never recover.

He’d watched the slow slide and stroke of Harry's tongue over Malfoy’s and it had been as though everything fell into place. Of course after Hermione had him there had been no real time to really consider what the possibility of his being y’know… until now, that is.

Hermione was stalking back and forth, silhouetted by the flames leaping in the imposing fireplace, the proud centrepiece of the Gryffindor common room, her brow furrowed in deep thought yet somehow, Neville couldn’t find it in himself to be frightened.

He’d been tenderly lowered onto one of the softest chairs, a huge overstuffed embrace of a chair, large enough to hold two people comfortably. Neville knew this, because he ‘was’ comfortable, carefully held (but not restrained) within the strong, warm arms of Seamus Finnegan. Seamus had been gently whispering to Neville from the moment Harry had flown away to when Hermione had tried to frog-march him back up to the tower, not that Seamus had let Herm bully him. Far from it. Despite the incessant grilling, the glaring and the overall horror of the night in general, Neville felt cherished and protected within the circle of Seamus’ embrace and even had to fight off the glimmer of a smile as those arms tightened protectively about him when Herm suddenly stalked over.

“The basics Neville. Give me the basics. I know you don’t know what the actual outcome should have been, I know its dependant on the actual person its set on and I know you don’t know why it’s done what it’s doing. But what is it, what’s it made of, how long should it last?”

Neville shrugged loosely, loving the bristle and glare of the Irish boy wrapped so close against the wrath of Hermione.

“I can’t tell you most of that Hermione, I’m truly sorry… I burned the paper so as no-one would know it was me afterwards, I, I got it out of a book of Gran’s ages back, she gave me a right telling off for even looking at it locked up in the case, I couldn’t ever tell her I actually needed to read it ‘again’… but I do know how long it lasts Herm. Rather, how long it was supposed to.”

Hermione was trembling with the need to understand, to ‘know’ how to re-achieve this unexpected effect. “How long, Neville?” She rasped.

Despite Seamus’ warm palm gently rubbing circles on his shoulder, Neville bit his lip. “Not this long.” He whispered, “Nothing like this long.”

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Draco’s shirt was unbuttoned again, now how had that happened?

If the Slytherin had, perhaps, slightly more blood & oxygen travelling to his brain, he might have realised that Harry's busy hands upon his body were easily capable of being the culprits of his semi-nudity, being already much occupied in the removal of Draco’s belt.

It occurred to Draco, somewhere deep in the back of his brain, that he should (perhaps) care slightly more about the fact that Potter had now divested him of robes, shirt, and belt. Were his trousers to follow? Was it important or alarming or even arousing if they should?

Harry's mouth was currently traversing the path between Draco’s pulse point and collarbone, nipping gently at the skin before soothing the reddening flesh gently with his tongue. He was being thoroughly seduced or sedated or something of that nature by the sheer proximity of Harry bloody Potter.

He knew he should be bothered, he even knew he should be bothered that he wasn’t bothered. He growled slightly, thrusting with his chin to draw Potter’s face upwards so they could reseal their mouths over each other’s. He was bothered all right. Only not in the way he should be.

White fingers knotted themselves into thick black hair, Draco scrabbling with his other hand to loosen the Gryffindors own shirt, eager to feel the press of skin on skin, twisting their bodies so that the brunet now sprawled back against the trunk, still eagerly gasping and muttering soft praise against the blond’s mouth throughout.

Take me, Draco had said. Take anything you want.

Now, spine arching as he crushed his chest forward against Harry's partially revealed torso, Draco ‘ached’ for Harry to take him at his word. Curiously callused hands traversed Draco’s upper body and Draco needed them everywhere and so much more and harder that he could barely stand it.

“Potter,” he moaned breathlessly as his own questing fingers were mirrored by a none too gentle tweak of his own near excruciatingly hardened nipples, dragging Harry forward a step in the hopes that he might take the hint and again crush Draco between that so needed heat and the rough wood trunk. “Potter…. Please?”

Harry took a moment between breaths to survey the prize awarded to him, lips full nearly to the point of pain and slick from hot, wet kisses, grey eyes near consumed by black. The blond wet his lips, almost preternaturally white body gleaming in the moonlight and a shudder passed through the Gryffindor at the frighteningly willing way he leant into his touch.

Take me, he’d said.

Harry suddenly realised that ‘upright’ didn’t have half as much going for it as, say, laying twisted up in the other boys long white limbs, long kisses and quick, whining breaths.

“Ok.” Harry seized Draco round the waist once more, letting his knees simply collapse beneath him, toppling both his and Malfoy’s weight rather haphazardly to the ground, the blond twisted atop him and gasping aloud at the increased contact between them.

Draco whimpered, the loss of pressure against him nearly obliterating the pleasure he felt at finding himself suddenly coiled around the strong thighs of the boy beneath him, Harry's hand now thrust into the silky white blond tresses to drag Malfoy’s mouth back to his.

Harry sighed appreciatively into the Slytherin’s kiss, breaking apart in slow steady explosions of enjoyment as the blond writhed and pressed himself down hard against the Gryffindor’s aching body.

“Uhm,” he murmured, tongues sweeping over each other’s in slow, deliberate patterns, a seeming blueprint of sensual intent, “Now ‘this’ is what I wanted…”

Smugness seeped through every pore of Draco’s being, nipping gently at Harry's tongue-tip and smiling broadly against the moan it created.

“This?” He purred, forming an ‘O’ with his lips and dragging them back and forth over the length of tongue he had captured and revelling in the shudders that wracked the Gryffindor at his actions. Merlin, but it was addictive having this affect on Potter. “Or, perhaps… this?” He ground his hips down against that delightful ridge in the brunet’s clearly un-tailored trousers, eyes crossing as the same bolt of pleasure that obviously shook Harry, quickly traversed his own, shaking form.

“That’s, uhh,” Harry wet his lips and tried to concentrate on anything but the field of sparks obscuring his vision, “that’s pretty close, I’d say…yeah.”

“Close?” Draco’s voice went up a few octaves in mock outrage, “close, Potter, just isn’t good enough.” He spread his thighs, letting himself fully straddle the darker boy, biting his lip at the deliciously wrong feeling it gave him to be stretched, wide open, over Potter’s lap.

“Mmmm.” Harry moaned succinctly as Draco rocked once, testing his new perch.

“How’s that, Harry? A little closer, would you say?”

A strong hand abruptly sunk itself into the silken strands at his nape, dragging Draco downward to have his Harry growl against his captive’s lips.

“Almost.” His voice reverberated through to Draco’s very core, tongues thrusting against each other in a kiss nearly vicious in its depth, Harry driving upwards and panting into the Slytherins eager mouth, “Now its perfect.”

Draco, horrified though he was by the prospect, found himself in utter agreement with the Gryffindor.

Seconds passed, heavy with pleasure and somehow hours long, lips sliding over and over the others until they were each giddy and breathless with need, hips rolling and pressing together in a rhythm too primal, too instinctive to feel unnatural.

Draco’s hands, previously planted either side of the brunets head to support him as they kissed, now clutched and clung at Harry's shoulders, while the Gryffindor’s own seemed wonderfully free by comparison, to roam at will from nape to ass with nothing short of glorious abandon.

“Potter.” Draco’s tone shuddered and seemed to consist purely of vibrating need and… what was that? Terror?

“I, I know.” Harry soothed, unsure of what precisely he meant, only knowing that he truly ‘did’ know, pinpricks of pleasure and sheer panic exploding all through his body as he wrapped his arms tighter about the blond and dragged him fully atop him, to crush their mouths back together. “I know.”

Tremors racked each boy, from Malfoy's spread and aching thighs to Potter’s spine each time he arched upwards into the blond’s beautifully persistent downward grind.

Groaning, Harry brought his own knees up, tipping Draco more squarely into the cradle of his pelvis and planting his feet firmly before letting his fingers sink into the giving flesh of the blond’s hindquarters. Draco gasped, the knowledge that the firm grip would be certain to leave pretty ‘Potter’ shaped bruises all over his ass the next day somehow more exciting than it ever should have been. Harry circled his hips, letting the hard ridge of his cock catch and scrape against the jut and swell of Draco’s, each letting out less than manly whimpers at the sensation, the sound strangled halfway through as Harry swiftly repeated the action. Then again… and again…

He couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in his body was screaming for oxygen, for respite but mostly importantly release. Draco Malfoy was inches, barest millimetres, from losing his mind, from simply giving up the effort of breathing and anything else besides that frantic writhing and kissing that had him close (so close) to simply disintegrating in Potters arms. Merlin help him, he’d never wanted anything more.

Then, with the sort of simple twist that usually found Granger brandishing a wand at them both, Draco got cramp. Not the niggling twist that causes a scowl and the belief it will go away with a few clenches and wiggles, but the full on seizing spasm that had him rearing up and away slightly, gasping in pain and actually dismounting the shocked Gryffindor.

From hip to mid-thigh Draco was locked and sore, unable to stay splayed in position and it was with no great small amount of frustration that he frantically massaged and slapped at his thigh, much to Harry’s poorly timed amusement.

“Uhm… you ok there Malfoy?”

Draco snarled, an entirely ineffective facial expression when lips are full and slick from snogging the life out of the person you’re snarling at, quaking with thwarted desire.

“No, I’m not bloody ok! I’ve been sodding crippled!”

Harry's hand reached out to aid the careful rubbing at Draco’s hip, which did ‘not’ help matters in Draco’s opinion, yet he still simpered slightly, leaning into the touch. “Cramp, hmm?” The bizarrely addictive brunet purred inquiringly.

Draco nodded slowly, pouting as prettily as could and hoping that Harry would take it as a sign to move that nice hand just a little higher. “Can’t sit like I was before,” his mouth formed a perfect moue of distress, silver eyes shining at the Gryffindor through a fan of lowered gilt lashes, “Hurts.”

Harry's smile was slow and irritatingly irresistible as he slid a hand up to curve along the underside of Draco’s jaw. “Got an idea.” He said unhelpfully, before tumbling the Slytherin beneath him. “There we go.” He purred, slipping a thigh between the blond’s and joining him in a moan at the renewed friction. “Perfect again.”

Draco would have raised his voice then, to correct the unendingly presumptuous git that no, actually, it had been much better when he was on top but his mouth was already thoroughly occupied and suddenly he didn't care which of them was on top just so long as Potter didn't stop.

It was getting steadily harder to breathe, their kisses now hopelessly sloppy as they panted, the lack of air only being slightly uncomfortable whereas to stop kissing would have not been unthinkable but excruciating.

Harry's hips pressed forwards and down each time Draco swivelled his hips up against him, each somehow keeping beat with the cadence of their tortured breath, hands clutching, groping, frantically to the point where Draco intentionally scored his nails over the delicate skin of Harry's throat in the terror that the brunet might yet pull away.

Harry's skin was suddenly too tight and too hot and he wanted to bite his lip and shake off the discomfort but then Draco was already biting his lips for him and that burn, the slow creeping fire from his gut had somehow twisted tendrils throughout his body so that every inch that touched the Slytherin was blazing brighter and brighter and until he thought he must surely combust.

Draco's back was barely even connected to the ground beneath him anymore, he had arched so high just to keep himself in contact with the brunet and now, where he should have been ashamed to hear the whimpers escaping him as that sullen, sweet spiral of pleasure filtered its way through his bloodstream, it was all he could do to stay earthbound.

Harry needed to stop. It had to stop. He had to stop. This was too much, too much, too strange, too new, too everything and he had to stop before it was too perfect and he wouldn't be able to… couldn't stop.

His arms trembled, holding Malfoy to him, his thighs shaking with the effort of thrusting against the Slytherin's eager, warm body and god, but the taste of Draco's breath, his mouth…

He needed to stop. He needed to stop. He needed to stop…

"Oh, oh gods Potter," the words burst past their kiss, almost an expression of pain as Draco stiffened against the sensations now savaging his body, "Gods, please…. Yes…"

What else could Harry do but follow him headlong into that same shuddering state that had Draco clinging and sobbing his name so prettily?

He couldn't stop.

TBC.