Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If you think I do….you have issues.
A/N: so I thought I'd try my luck with a slash. I hope you like. Be sure to review!
Don't Let the Golden Boy Drink
"I'll have a firewhisky" Harry said to the bar tender. He was in desperate need of a drink. Hopefully it would take his mind off of Malfoy. Why Malfoy was on his mind, even he didn't know. It had all started a couple of weeks ago when he had seen Malfoy snogging Padma Patil. He distinctly remembered feeling a pang of jealousy in his stomach. And he wasn't jealous of Malfoy. He was jealous of Padma. Ever since then he couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy. Those sexy smirks of his. His confident voice. But Harry couldn't like Malfoy. He was, after all, his worst enemy. What would Ron and Hermione think? He wasn't even sure they'd accept the fact that he was gay, much less him fancying Draco Malfoy. He emptied his glass, wincing as the alcohol burnt his throat. The effects of the whiskey seemed to kick in instantly, causing him to go slightly dizzy, vision blurring at the edges. But, Harry knew exactly the remedy for that-- more whiskey. He ordered another shot, followed by another. Still, the image of Malfoy snogging Padma danced through his mind.
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Harry Potter stumbled off of his bar stool and headed up to his dormitory. Draco's lips curled into that trademark smirk of his, instantly realizing Harry's drunken state. That would be something to boast about, having fucked the Golden Boy. Wouldn't the Slytherins be envious... especially those giggly females. He slipped away from Crabbe and Goyle and followed Harry.
He found him with his shirt off, and back turned. "What are you up to, Potter? Ducking out of the party early?" The blonde inquired, pulling off another sexy smirk. "I just had a bit to much to drink." He replied, turning around. Once he realized who it was, he asked "What do you want, Malfoy?" Draco paused, idly leaning against the bedpost, peering at his fingernails boredly as he spoke. "I'd rather you not collapse of drunkenness, Potter," he hissed. "Because for some stupid reason, Weasly and Granger will blame it on me, and then all those damn Gryffindors will be all over my ass, and then You-Know-Who will take over all because you've drunk yourself to death, k Potter?" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small flask and tossing it to Harry. He fumbled, but caught it clumsily.
"Drink it, Potty. It'll clear up your little drunken mind." Harry's logical brain was a little fuzzy, so he didn't realize the obvious dangers of drinking something that was given to him by a Slytherin. He downed it and started sputtering and coughing. A smirk curled Draco's lips upwards at how swiftly Harry drank it. Boy, this was going to be easier than he thought. Harry obviously had no idea that the drink was just more alcohol. Gullible brat. Draco then slunk forward, almost catlike, placing his hands on Harry's hips and smirking at him, eye-to-eye. "Feeling better, Potty?" "I…uh…" Harry stammered, vision still blurry, feeling like he was caught in a dream. Draco's hands slid in between his legs.
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Harry gasped for air, moaning under Malfoy's obviously experienced fingers. This was what he had dreamed about a little more than he'd like to admit, but he couldn't let it actually happen. Harry might not have been able to see straight, but he knew something like this could really mess up his life right now. The emerald-eyed boy pulled himself from Malfoy's grasp and slapped him. It wasn't hard, even though Harry had put all his strength into it. Malfoy looked shocked anyway. "How, er," Draco said, stumbling over his words a bit before going back into his usual cool and composed attitude. "How dare you?" he demanded, lips curling into a sneer. Harry tried to look angry, but it was a bit of a challenge when he was horny and drunk. "Are you trying to take ad-- advan--" His words slurred. "Are you trying to screw me, Malfoy?" Agh, damn that alcohol! Draco yawned, looking unconcerned, placing one hand on his hip. "And what if I am, Potter?" he drawled, leering angrily -- actually, almost seductively, now that Harry thought about it -- as he spoke. "Do you plan to slap me again? Because I'm afraid that even your mudblood friend Granger's hits hurt more than that. And that's really saying something, Potter." Draco smirked, taking a step closer to Harry, who twitched slightly. "Do you plan on cooperating?" Draco then said, voice taking on a seductive, velvety quality... Almost purr-like. "Or do I have to threaten to beat the shit out of you?" It fit him well. "You wouldn't" Harry replied, doubting what Malfoy said. "Oh I would, Potty. You'd be surprised at the lengths I'll go to get what I want" The words seemed to roll out of his mouth, his perfectly shaped mouth. With those wonderful lips. So pink, and soft. No! What was he thinking? He couldn't let this happen. It was the damn alcohol again. Malfoy took another step closer and traced his jaw with his finger. "So, do you plan to cooperating…or not?" he added threateningly. "I...I…I…" was all he could say. The firewhisky had definitely taken its toll on his speech. "That's what I thought," Malfoy stated smugly, as he pushed Harry onto the bead. "Ready for the night of your life, Potter?"