DUELS 3.
Draco didn't much like being called out of bed when he didn't suspect any sex to be involved in the summons. The note Harry had left clearly said "We need to talk." Translation: "I'm scared and I'm ducking out before my stupid friends stop talking to me." Classic Potter. Draco had known that being caught snogging by Harry's best mate couldn't come without repercussions. Never the less, the Slytherin was still peeved that his precious beauty sleep had been interrupted.
When Draco arrived at the Room of Requirement, he noticed a drastic change in the décor. Rather than being drizzled with a hundred free standing candles, and all sorts of plush beds and couches, the Room had only two furnishings: chairs. Yes, two black chairs were stationed in the center of the room. One was empty, the uother/u was occupied by the one person Draco had ever hated so fiercely, yet adored so secretively: Harry James Potter.
Harry seemed rather tense, business-like, one may say. His Gryffindor tie was still tightly knotted, and all of the buttons on his shirt were done up properly, rather than exposing the brunette's oh so desirable skin. This in itself troubled Draco. Troubled him, but did not surprise him. He had know that this would not be a frivolous meeting.
"Well Potter," Draco said sharply. "You've called me out here in the middle of the night with obviously ino/i intention on shagging me. My question is: what do you want?" He made no move to sit down next to Harry in the vacant chair.
Harry sighed. He knew it was important to choose his words carefully, else Draco would leave before he had said his piece. "Draco…I don't know what we think we're doing. We're more different that any two people can be, we hate each other…and yet, the two of us have had more sex than anyone else in all of Hogwarts."
"Besides Crabbe and Goyle, you mean," Draco joked, smirking. He had been unable to pass up the opportunity.
A slight grin flashed across Harry's face, quickly followed by a grimace as he tried not to picture it. "Yeah…but my point is: if we both know that this…this what-ever-the-hell-you'd-call-it, is not going to last. Why are we even bothering?"
Draco sighed angrily. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this 'not lasting' when I was sucking you dry in the secret corridor. This is all because that fucking Weaslebee walked in on us?"
Harry shook his head. "No! This has nothing to do with Ron! It's something I've been thinking for a while but never--"
"Like hell you have!" Draco shouted. "If that little blood traitor hadn't--"
"Don't you idare/i talk about my friend like that!" Harry was on his feet now, wand at hand. His head was buzzing with every curse he would've liked to have put on the Slytherin since his first day at Hogwarts.
Draco glared at Harry with enough coldness to freeze beer. "What're you gonna do now, Potter?" he spat. "Curse me? Torture me? Make me take back every word I ever said against that damn blood traitor and his Mudblood girlfriend? Go on then! I'd like an excuse to rip you to shreds!"
The air in the room was alive with hateful electricity. Harry thought his head would explode if he didn't get a fistful of the Slytherin's hair and smash his head against the wall. He wanted to launch himself at Malfoy, hit him with his fists like some Muggle street fighter, and forget the last week in which he had begun to think that maybe he had been wrong about Malfoy, that maybe he wasn't so bad. Ron had been right, he iwas/i a Malfoy after all. It was impossible to love a Malfoy.
"Can't do it, can you Scarhead?" Malfoy taunted. He smirked and spread his arms wide, offering a clear target. "Go on! I dare you!"
As if a switch had suddenly been flicked within Harry's brain, he roared an enchantment without realizing it, and Malfoy flew back against the wall. The instant that the Slytherin fell, a set of golden handcuffs appeared, only to lock themselves around Malfoy's pale wrists, tightly, I might add.
Malfoy's surprise registered on his face registered on his face for half a second before he regained composure. "So I suppose you're going to jinx me till I pass out then, or maybe you'll see how far you can jam yourself into me before I cry? Go ahead. I idare/i you," he repeated coolly.
But Harry wasn't listening. He had raised his wand again to Vanish Malfoy's trousers by magic. He grabbed Malfoy roughly by the hair and brought his head down to kiss him once, biting him harshly. "Just shut it, will you?" Then, he reached into the pocket of Malfoy's robes to pull out his wand. He examined it for a moment, and set it about a foot away on the floor, still within Malfoy's reach.
Malfoy gave Harry a questioning look. He had become slightly fearful now. Why would Harry take away his wand? His question was soon answered…
Harry took Malfoy's length fully into his mouth without another word. He began sucking sharply, which quickly prompted a response from the Slytherin. In not much time at all, Malfoy was panting and moaning Harry's name like he had done a dozen times before. To Malfoy, this was just another one of Harry's games. This was nothing malicious or angry; Harry was only teasing him.
"You're getting hard now, aren't you, Malfoy? You're idying/i for me to finish you, right?" Harry said smoothly, releasing Malfoy from his mouth.
Malfoy gave a weak nod. "Just do it Potter! D-Don't stop now!" he whined.
Instead, to Malfoy's extreme horror, Harry stood. "Nope, sorry Malfoy. I must be off. It's getting late and I want to get in a few hours of sleep before breakfast. See ya." He winked.
"You b-bastard!" Malfoy gasped. It was slightly painful for him now. He couldn't very well just stay in such a position, nor could he get himself out. "Finish me!"
Harry shook his head, smirking. "Nope, sorry. I will let you go, though. You can do the rest yourself." He produced a small golden key, inserted it into the lock on the cuff around Malfoy's right hand, and stepped away towards the door. "The other one will have to be done with magic, sorry." With that, he was gone.
"Damn you Potter!" Malfoy shouted. The Gryffindor would pay for this, that much was certain. Malfoy groaned as he began to finish himself off. This was so embarrassing! He, Draco Malfoy, was masturbating! And there was no way around it. Several minutes later, he reached for his wand, which Potter had so ikindly/i left within his grasp, and aimed it at the other cuff.
"iAlohamora!/i" he muttered angrily. The cuff instantly fell away, leaving Malfoy with a bruised wrist and a foul temper. And as he walked back to the Slytherin dungeons, Malfoy wondered what he could do to get Potter back.