Anti-litigation charm: Harry Potter is JK Rowling's. But this piece was entrenched firmly in my imagination.
Harry Potter slammed the toilet door shut, cursing. He flipped the latch closed with a flick of his wand, ever present in his hand. The greasy git had assigned him a detention. Yes, it was his own fault that he was late to the Sorting Ceremony. Yes, he couldn't reveal why he was late. Yes, it was a reasonable punishment. But still. A less than auspicious start to the year. Bollocks!
The Gryffindor spat into the toilet bowl, his saliva tinged red from blood. And his nose! Ruddy Malfoy had broken it cleanly, but it had hurt like hell. Just thinking about it sent Harry into a furious rage. The blond-haired Syltherin was up to something! He growled and huffed and paced in the small space of the stall. Without even thinking, Harry whipped his wand forward and blasted a hole through the stall wall. The edges smouldered. Suddenly he heard another student entering the lavatory, so he pulled the chain above the toilet to trigger and flush and clumsily swept out of the stall.
He avoided looking at the other boy as he dunked his hands under a tap, wet them briefly and left.
He closed the stall door gently this time, turning to lower the lid of the toilet before sitting on it. In his hands he held the tattered and well-read copy of Advanced Potion Making. The Half-Blood Prince - who could it be? Clearly the previous student was a genius. A wave of frustration rose within his chest. Ginny comparing the textbook to Tom Riddle's diary had at first caused an ice-prick of fear to course through his spine before protective jealousy chased it away. The Prince was good at Potions, that was all. He wasn't about to be bloody possessed by a bloody book. There was no good reason why he couldn't enjoy finally succeeding in a subject that had caused him so much grief in the past.
Minutes ticked past as he read the side-notes and scribbled annotations in the textbook, without fear of being accused of cheating by Hermione. Thinking of his best friend, Harry stiffened. Hermione and Ron. It had been brewing since forever, with both of them oblivious of each other, or not wanting to act on their feelings. He didn't like it. With their attentions on each other, there was less time for him. On the other hand, being Gryffindor Quidditch Captain did take up a lot of his time. Thinking, his gaze slid off the book and to the wall.
He was surprised to see that the hole was still there, but no longer with charred edges, but a smooth, waxy-looking surface. An eyebrow quirked upwards, Harry leaned forward and traced the edge of the hole with his finger. It was... soft. Sort of inviting. If he leaned forward a bit more, he may even be able to see into the other stall... At first he didn't really understand what he was looking at, as the dimensions of the viewing space didn't give much perspective. Eventually he figured out he was looking straight at another boy's chest.
Abruptly, Harry sat up, his face heating. Flustered, Harry beat a quick retreat.
The door actually rebounded off the wall, its hinges squealing at the force of Harry's punch. Ginny and Dean! The wench! In his mind's eye he replayed the scene of the Irish boy's tongue slipping past Ginny's pink lips and into her mouth. Damnit! Harry caught the door to stop it swinging and locked it. He caught his finger on the sharp edge of the latch and split the skin of his thumb. Hissing in anger, Harry shook his hand, sending droplets of blood across the stall door.
He stuffed his thumb into his mouth and sucked on the wound, hoping to numb the pain. He wasn't sure which hurt more; the thought of Dean running his hands down Ginny's Chaser-toned stomach to rest at her slim hips, or the throbbing of his thumb. Eventually the hurt in his heart won and he sunk onto the porcelain throne, despondent.
Ginny's infatuation over the past few years was childish in nature - she had always been Ron's little sister. It was only this year that Harry had noticed the way that Ginny's hair shone brilliantly when it streamed behind her as she soared through the sky. That freckles dusted her otherwise milky skin. That she had full lips. And that now, she seemed to know how to use them to render Dean senseless.
What else did she know? Perversely, thinking of Ginny's experience didn't dampen Harry's sudden awareness of her beauty. The thought of her knowing just how to hold him, or kiss him, or tease him made his cock twitch with longing. He squirmed, the pressure of his trousers restricting the insistent blood flow. Great. Now he had boner.
"Tempus," Harry whispered.
His wand lit up at the tip and a glowing clock face appeared at eyesight. He still had twenty minutes until he had to face Ginny for lunch. His cock pulsed with the thought of her wet mouth. He stifled a groan and unbuckled his belt. It was with adolescent pride that he watched his cock spring free of his pants. A drop of precome glistened at the top. He wrapped a hand around the shaft and dragged the foreskin over the head, letting out a soft chuff of breath.
His eyes strayed to the hole in the wall. Again he reached out and stroked the edges. Soft, almost spongy. His cock jumped in his hand as an insane, but strangely arousing idea crossed his mind. Could his... would it.. what if... Harry slid his thumb across the slick head of his cock and moaned a bit as a jolt of pleasure shot straight through his groin. His heart thudding and his nerves nearly frayed, Harry fairly near leapt to his feet and faced the wall.
With one smooth movement, Harry slid his cock into the hole of the wall. It was a perfect fit, tight but yielding, the edges smooth and almost slippery.
"I'm barmy."
He withdrew his hips and sunk onto the wall until the hole almost fully swallowed him to the hilt. He closed his eyes and imagined Ginny wrapping her pink lips around his length, her tongue teasing him, her hands cupping his sack. The urge to move faster, cause more delicious friction, to come, forced his hips into action and he plunged his cock again and again into the wall until he hit the peak. Harry bit the flesh of his palm to quieten the cry that escaped his lips as he dropped off the ledge. He shuddered into the wall as waves of pleasure swept through his frame. A couple extra dips of his hips to ride out the spurts of his come.
Immediately as the last echoes of sexual gratification faded away, Harry was overcome with disgust, self-loathing and embarrassment. The Gryffindor cast a quick Scourgify, the rough spell scratching his rapidly deflating cock.
Harry latched the stall door shut and paced, his invisibility cloak swirling at his feet. What was Malfoy up to? And Snape? What mission? Did it have something to do with Borgin and Burkes? Surely Malfoy had been the one to buy the cursed necklace? What role did the greasy git play in all of this? What was the "glory" Malfoy spoke of?
He sat down on the toilet and stared broodingly at the stall door. He jumped as the lavatory door opened and closed shut. The click of the interior lock echoed into the stillness. Harry's mind raced as he tried to guess who was in the bathroom at this late hour. It was a few hours after Slughorn's Christmas party and most students would have been winding down, packing for the holidays. Shifting the cloak so that he was completely covered, Harry slowed his breathing. His exit was completely blocked off.
"Lumos."
Harry watched the faint glow of the light flicker and change as the caster walked around the lavatory. Suddenly the tip of a wand was shoved under the stall door and a whey-faced boy scanned the stall. Malfoy! What was he doing here! Determined to find out and not believing his luck, Harry tried to swallow noiselessly. Malfoy withdrew his wand and straightened. Harry listened keenly, waiting for a confession, anything to prove that Malfoy was every bit the evil Slytherin he knew the ponce to be.
To his surprise, Malfoy entered the stall next to his and latched the door closed. A little paranoid, considering the locked lavatory door. Harry heard the boy unbuckle his belt and almost groaned in frustration. Malfoy just needed to use the loo and now he was going to have to listen to the brat vacate his bowels. There was no way he was going to tell Ron or Hermione about this. No one would ever know that he had been here.
Despite himself, Harry waited for the first obvious noise - the creaking of the toilet seat as someone sat on it. The noise didn't come. Instead the hairs on Harry's arms rose, prickled with gooseflesh. It was a breathy moan. At first Harry tried to believe it was a moan of pain - perhaps Snape had more than words with Malfoy after the student had crashed Slughorn's party. But there was no denying the slick sound of a wet hand sliding over flesh.
Harry's face burned and to his horror, felt the stirrings of arousal. Bloody hell! Had he lost the plot? Another soft moan and Harry's cock jerked in his trousers. Almost without thinking, Harry cupped the hardening length, squeezing gently. What was he doing? It was Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! Harry's eye's nearly bugged out of his head when the weeping tip of Malfoy's cock slid through the hole into his stall, chased quickly by a low groan that caused Harry an unexpected roll of pleasure, flipping his stomach.
The Gryffindor couldn't look away as Malfoy pumped into the wall, his cock drooling precome, strands swinging back and forth as he moved slowly at first and then quickening until a blur. Harry rubbed his own cock through his trousers and his heart skipped a beat as Malfoy climaxed, white globs of come spurting from the other boy's cock and onto the stall floor. A satisfied hum accompanied the withdrawal of Malfoy's cock into his own stall. The student proceeded to clean up and rebuckle his belt.
Harry stared at the pools of come on the tiles as Malfoy left the lavatory.
All Christmas holidays, images of Malfoy's cock tormented Harry. Ginny's renewed interest in him did nothing to alleviate the ache Harry felt thinking about the hole in the wall at Hogwarts and what he had seen and heard. He wanked almost every night, reluctantly at first, deliberately trying to keep his mind on healthy visualisations. But time and time again he heard Malfoy's moan, saw the precome swaying... Each wank was fast and furious, the climax overwhelming with pleasure and draining with weight. What was wrong with him?
Malfoy's probability of being a Death Eater was perfect cover to watch him through the Marauder's Map. Harry noticed that Malfoy disappeared off the map at certain times, but he was more interested in whether the boy had a routine with the hole. A pattern soon emerged and Harry eagerly awaited Malfoy in the lavatory. This time he left his stall open.
The map showed Malfoy walking from the dungeons to the lavatory, pausing every now and then to avoid Prefects patrolling the corridors. Harry's excitement rose as Malfoy opened the lavatory door and locked it. Seeing all the stall doors open, Malfoy didn't bother with a Lumos.
Harry froze as Malfoy stood at the entrance of his stall. The boy looked gaunt, troubled. With no audience, the customary sneer and upturned nose was not present. Instead he looked almost vulnerable. Malfoy walked into the stall, unbuckling his belt. Harry's heart raced - this was not part of the plan. He wasn't supposed to come into Harry's stall, he was just supposed to see it was empty and proceed to the other stall. Instead the blond appeared to be wasting no time with changing stalls.
Trousers dropped to the floor and Harry didn't know where to look. He tried to control his breathing, desperately hoping Malfoy wouldn't need to come any closer to the toilet. The other boy was unbearably close. Malfoy's eyes closed as he withdrew his soft cock from his pants. Harry felt his own arousal pulsing, but dared not move to touch, fearing he'd reveal himself. Malfoy's breathing hitched as his cock hardened. Deeming himself ready, Malfoy inserted his cock into the hole in the wall and slowly pushed forward with a groan. Harry found himself watching Malfoy's face, noting the drawn eyebrows, the slightly open mouth, the faint bristle of stubble.
Harry bit his lip and drew blood to prevent a moan escaping his mouth as Malfoy leaned forward and spat on his cock. Malfoy rested one hand on the wall above his head and withdrew his cock completely. With his other hand he smeared the saliva all across the flushed head and pumped into his fist a few times before returning to the wall. It didn't take the Slytherin much time to finish and Harry's cock ached when the boy cried and shuddered, his twisted face strangely beautiful in ecstasy.
His plan was to come in as Malfoy was just getting started. Slip into the stall next to him and touch him, touch himself, make them both come, see stars. Instead he found Malfoy sobbing, crying, wailing, cursing himself and Voldemort and Snape. Pleading with no one, promising to complete his mission, swearing he'd do it, do anything. He was gripping the basin, his tears streaming down his pale face. When Malfoy saw him through the cracked mirror, whirled around and drew his wand, Harry instinctively pulled out his own.
A flurry of spells from both boys blew apart the bathroom, made only more confusing by the cries and shouts of Moaning Myrtle of all things.
Harry's mind blanked as he slipped in the water pouring from a smashed cistern as Malfoy, his face contorted in a grimace, cried, "Cruci -"
From the floor, Harry bellowed, "Sectumsempra!"
And even before the spell hit Malfoy, Harry knew that whatever fantasy world he had been living in before this moment had died and would never be brought to life again.
Author's Note: Reviews most welcome!