SUMMARY: Professor Snape finds himself in the unfortunate position of protecting his least favorite student from a vengeful, and powerful, Veela Draco.
Author's Note: This story will feature slash, violence, adult language, dark themes, non-con. There will be nothing extremely graphic in this story that warrants a higher rating, but it will be fully deserving of an 'R'.
Draco is not a protagonist in this, so please do not seek a Harry/Draco romance in this story. There will be HP/DM slash, insofar as Draco is essentially stalking Harry, but that's about it.
I'm actually not certain whether to classify this as Harry and Draco, or Harry and Snape, or Snape and Draco even, but all three will be main characters. Snape's not a guy with a heart of gold in this either.
DESCENT
Part I: A Rivalry Escalates
Harry Potter was not the usual teenager in many respects, most of which were well-documented. He was an unusually powerful wizard, he spoke Parseltongue, he was the boy destined to vanquish the darkest wizard in the world or die in the process. Pansy Parkinson one night at the Three Broomsticks was lucky enough to discover another of Harry's oddities: he lived with three other teenage boys in a dorm room, yet still remained astonishingly ignorant with regards to sex.
She discovered this amidst the process of skillfully manipulating the rather inebriated Gryffindor. She'd been furious with Draco-- the absolutely livid-beyond-words type of fury that forced her to lower herself to associating with a Gryffindor, and with this particular Gryffindor. Master manipulator that she fancied herself to be, she let slip that she'd walked in on Blaise Zabini giving Draco head.
Pansy glanced up coyly to gauge the damage she had wrought upon her erstwhile lover's reputation. Instead of an expression of revulsion, glazed incomprehension stole over Potter's face.
"Er, 'giving head?'" he echoed blankly.
"A blow job, Potter!"
He stared at her.
"You know," she prompted impatiently. "Sucking cock?"
His eyes grew misty as the words swirled meaninglessly through his alcohol-fogged brain.
It was then that Pansy broke into shrill peals of laughter. Some gleeful little part of her rejoiced in the boy's sheer ignorance, his innocence. How in Merlin's name had he reached this age without knowing--
"It's where you take a guy's penis in your mouth and kind of, well--" She fumbled for words. 'Suck' was not quite the whole story. Neither was lick. How to describe the intricate art of the blowjob?
Harry's cheeks were flushing into this delightful color of red.
"You pleasure him," Pansy finished in a low, husky voice she knew to be seductive.
"Er, people actually do this?" he stammered.
A wicked smile stretched across Pansy's face, and the thrill she felt as she crept imperceptibly closer to the drunken boy was absolutely evil.
"Oh, it's completely normal." She'd drawn close enough to him that her breath tickled his cheek. "That Cho girl never showed you? Did anyone--" She fell silent a moment, licking her lips, eyeing him with a ruthless scrutiny that made him want to wriggle out of his skin.
"How about--" she said in a breathy voice. "I show you?"
Harry's breath wheezed as though she'd yanked a noose about his neck. "Uh--well, um, I--"
And then her fingers were touching him there, rubbing him through the fabric of his oversized jeans. He groaned in embarrassment when he felt the rush of blood straight to his groin.
Pansy's husky laugh filtered through the suddenly thick air of the pub. "So, the Boy Who Lived wants to come out and play…"
He should have pushed her hand away. He really should have. His eyes darted around the pub; they were in an isolated corner. The concealment charm Ron had cast earlier to hide the Gryffindor firewhiskey antics from any patrons who might question their age still concealed him from public view. He should get her away. But…
Merlin she was touching him in such a wonderful way.
She pulled down his zipper and cool air rushed around his flesh. A small, appreciative noise issued from her lips at the sight, and she worked him gently from the fabric. Harry shuddered when her expert, feather-light touch played across his hardness; he gazed in fascination at the delicate white hand moving over his skin.
Every once in a while he would glance up at Pansy, who was staring, rapt, at his facial expressions, a twisted smile curling at her lips, the feral delight transforming her otherwise pretty features into something vicious. Harry found he could not bear to look at her as she touched him. He could only appreciate her countenance later as he touched her and melted that viciousness into a haze of pleasure.
In the course of an hour, Harry Potter reached first, second, and third base. They concluded with some remedial instruction on orally pleasuring a female. Pansy seemed to get some perverse thrill, having oblivious patrons just feet away from their sweaty escapades as Harry's lips and tongue swirled between her thighs.
When he finally staggered out of the pub that evening, after the girl had extricated herself from his company, the night air somehow felt different-- alive with possibilities. The students crowded together for the ride back to Hogwarts, and his eyes found the woman who had shown him the way…
Pansy was smirking darkly in Malfoy's direction, her eyes flashing with bitter triumph at the back of her ex-lover's blonde head.
Harry was very thankful, later, that he'd caught that particular expression on her face. Still aching with the raw wound of Sirius's death, he'd been vulnerable enough to possibly invest something even in the capricious affections of Pansy Parkinson. If he'd had one night to sleep on the experience, he might awoken madly in love with the woman who had given him something so beautiful.
As things were, the expression he'd surprised on her face told him the whole story--it was a simple act of vengeance against Draco Malfoy.
Harry didn't hold it against her. Really, he didn't mind being her vehicle of revenge.
She could use him again any time.
Draco Malfoy was not impressed.
In fact, he was so unimpressed that he pounced on Harry right outside the Potions classroom.
It was not that someone had touched Pansy Parkinson. She'd never been anything more than a fucktoy to him. It was not because Pansy had bragged vocally about the other boy's size in the Slytherin common room. Draco had too much confidence to be hurt by that.
It was the fact that Draco's fucktoy had given a blow job to Harry Potter.
Harry. Fucking. Potter. The bastard who had robbed him of everything. His pride. His family. His honor.
Harry Potter. Who had cast shame upon the Malfoy name, who had condemned his father to prison, who had beaten Draco every Quidditch match… Who had thwarted every one of his brilliant schemes… Who had rejected Draco's hand and his friendship…
Fucking. Harry. Potter. He'd touched something that rightfully belonged to Draco. And really, that burned his pride. Potter had to be acting out of spite. It wasn't like that stupid slut Parkinson was actually worth soiling one's dick inside…
An enraged Draco tackled Potter right outside the Potions classroom, batting the hastily-drawn wand out of Potter's hand, and slamming the other boy in the face with a crude fist.
Once before the two boys had fought in this Muggle manner. Potter had jumped upon him and quickly hammered him into the ground, leaving Draco whimpering in pain beneath the Quidditch Pitch.
Not this time…
He was larger than Potter. Stronger. He had the element of surprise, and really…
He was just so goddamn angry.
He slammed his fist into Potter's jaw again and again. Until blood spurted from those lips, until it clotted in the other boy's eyes. Potter at last jerked away from him, rolling across the floor, scrambling to escape. Draco grasped him by the collar and dragged him back, slamming the back of the boy's head upon the cold stone floor, slamming his fist into the boy hero's jaw again. And again.
Hands clutched at Draco's shoulders, hauling him back, and he fought out of their grip to sink a vicious kick in the other boy's side. He tore from the grasping fingers of those who would restrain him to claw at the bloodied flesh of Potter's eyes…
And then he was hit by a spell that sent him staggering back against the far wall of the hallway and thunking to the floor. Swarms of students rushed around him, a beat of frenzied footsteps crowding about his fallen foe. Somewhere in the whirling mist above him, tainted red with his seething fury, approached the black form of Professor Snape, lowering his wand and glancing with a dark expression from the panting Draco to the fallen Harry.
"Weasley, Granger—get Potter to the hospital wing." Snape paused, a long weighted moment. His black eyes flickered indecisively between the two combatants, and then something hard and malignant settled in their depths. "Ten points from Gryffindor for provoking a fight."
Cries of protest rang in the air about him, but the Potions Master ignored them and knelt down beside Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy—are you alright?"
Draco smiled through the weight of the impedimentia spell the Professor had cast. He still had one person on his side, one person who saw Potter for the little bastard he was. His thoughts danced back to the day when they'd found Montague wedged in one of the toilets, and he'd walked in to find Snape and Potter standing with wands drawn upon one another. Snape had glowered at Potter for weeks after that. Draco was absolutely certain he'd walked in on Snape about to curse the little prat.
Pity he couldn't have interrupted their remedial potions tutoring a few minutes later…
"Just fine, sir." He smiled, flushing with adrenaline and delight. He caught Snape's eye, knowing the other man would share his appreciation of the Boy Who Lived coiled up on the floor in agony. "Potter started it."
A cold, vicious smile yanked at the corners of Snape's thin lips. "I know, Mr. Malfoy. I know."
Draco watched him rise smoothly to his feet, whirling around to bark orders at Potter's little Gryffindor cheerleaders, who were all huddled about, babbling hysterically. Snape's razor sharp tongue reduced them to quivering, cowering lumps utterly bereft of the vaunted Gryffindor courage.
Draco smiled maliciously at the little idiots as they stood there, wide-eyed, wondering how any man could be so cruel to them. He treasured that one secret Potter and Dumbledore and all their cronies did not know…
Snape was a Death Eater.
He would always side with Draco. Potter would never beat Draco when it came to Snape.
End Part 1