Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
a/n: LEMON!! (But you'll have to wait until the end and this is a long chapter... evil grin)
"Who's 'nrohgulS'?" asked Neville as he studied his parchment dubiously.
"You're reading it upside-down," Hermione noted. She patiently reached over and plucked the paper from Neville's hands before turning it over and giving it back to him, smiling in a motherly way.
"Oh..." Neville looked over the paper once more. "Who's Slughorn, then?" he asked Harry.
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. "New teacher," he replied. Why Slughorn wanted them in his compartment, Harry could only guess. And he sincerely hoped it wasn't food or sexually motivated... Or both. Harry forced the unbidden thought of a naked Professor Slughorn-slathered in chocolate sauce in a pool of whipped cream with a cherry hanging from his mouth, beaconing Harry to just come a bit closer, that he wouldn't bite... much-from his mind with a shudder.
Old Dumbles had taken Harry to visit Slughorn earlier in the summer to try and convince him to take a teaching position at Hogwarts. ("Just come by... and see what we have to offer," Dumbledore had said then, pushing Harry softly in the back, forcing him closer to the sitting Slughorn. Harry had only recently realized what exactly Dumbledore had meant by those words, and vowed to get the old git back, even if he had to resort to sleeping with Minnie... Harry had also only recently realized he was drunk the night he made that vow and quickly removed that last part about sleeping with McGonagall from his memory.) Long story short, Harry was well aware of Slughorn's fancy for teenage boys and cake or any combination of the two.
Harry crumpled the parchment up and threw it to the floor before standing. "Well..." He looked at his watch. "I guess we should go, Neville."
"Huh? Okay. Sure." He stood and put Trevor down in his empty seat. He patted the toad's slimy head and cooed, "Be a good boy now while Daddy's gone!"
Harry rolled his eyes and put his unused cigarette back in the box, then flung the box into Ron's lap. Harry didn't want to be caught with them if Slughorn decided to pat him down upon entrance to the compartment, which he probably would. Ron frowned and laid them gently on Harry's seat. Smoking was the only habit Ron hadn't picked up from Harry in his attempts to emulate him over the past years. (For the longest time, Ron had not-so-secretly wanted to be Harry, you see.)
"Come!" Harry patted his thigh as he ordered Neville. He turned and exited their compartment, Neville right on his heels.
"Harry!" Slughorn beamed down at Harry from over his rotund stomach. "How... nice to see you again." The perverted bastard was practically drooling, Harry thought as he licked his dry lips in what he hoped looked more like a nervous manner than a seductive one.
Slughorn seemed not to notice Harry's lip licking, (seeing as he wasn't exactly looking at the boy's face...) and thrust out a hammy hand, which Harry shook in the most manly way possible. The professor turned his roving eyes towards Neville. He smiled and sized him up as if Neville were a tasty cherry tart instead of a human being. "And you must be Neville Broadbottom!"
"I am?" clueless Neville turned and asked Harry.
"Longbottom, sir," Harry corrected him. "You'll have to excuse Neville." Harry took Neville by the shoulders and steered him into the compartment in front of him. "He's a bit touched," Harry whispered to Slughorn and pointed to his temple, grimacing. "No worries. Accident at the Ministry. He just thinks he's a dog, is all."
Slughorn nodded his head slowly and contemplatively. Probably wondering how much he could get away with before Neville could figure out he was dodgy. Harry didn't have to wonder: He knew it was a lot.
Another boy came in behind them, so Harry and Neville were mercifully excused from Slughorn's sight.
They sat down on a bench with another 6th year, a Slytherin by the looks of him, though Harry couldn't quite recall his name. Neville couldn't either, seeing as how he couldn't even recall his own name. Across form Harry sat a sheepish-looking girl, unsure as to why she was there exactly. The longer Harry stared at her, the more he began to realize she looked familiar. She tossed her head from side-to-side like a horse, and Harry instantly realized who she was. It was Ginny. And she looked absolutely marvelous.
She'd taken some fashion tips from Hermione and sported her own pair of ridiculously tight jeans and a revealing top (covered by a sweater, however, much to Harry's dismay). She wore her long, red hair straight down. It was nice to know she didn't change too much over the summer, except for the fact that she appeared to have gotten hotter. He finally caught her eye and smiled mischievously. She rolled her eyes, but smiled in return before turning her attention back to the window next to her.
"Well. Now that everyone is here," thundered Slughorn pompously. "We can begin."
Harry took a look around him. The assortment of seemingly random people in the compartment made Harry think of some really awkward orgy that he wasn't too thrilled to be a part of.
With a flourish of Slughorn's wand, a cart full of desserts appeared in the middle of the floor. Neville's eyes widened and he dove straight in, taking two miniature cupcakes and a heaping bowl of pudding. Harry decided to pass: There was no telling what kind of date rape drug Slughorn had put in the food.
Neville grunted in aggravation, causing Harry to turn his way. The poor bloke was trying desperately to eat one of his cupcakes through his forehead, which, as we all (hopefully) know, is not how the whole eating thing is done. Harry rolled his eyes and reached for Neville's cupcake-holding hand, pulling it down to mouth-level.
"Thanks..." Neville took a bite and crumbs and icing fell down his shirt-front. "I don't think I could have figured that one out on my own."
Harry was too bored to feign patience. "I'm sure," he replied dully. Now that he had re-taught Neville how to eat, there wasn't much else to do except listen to Slughorn's interrogations about the students' various family members, which, surprising as it may seem, was Slughorn's real motive for collecting this odd assortment of students.
As it turns out, Cormac McLaggen was the sole heir to the Twinkies fortune. Harry assumed this was the only reason the guy was on Slughorn's "favorites" list (McLaggen was... not so much magically inclined as he was magically inept... And his face looked like a horse's arse.) And another interesting fact Harry would like to not have learned: Blaise Zabini's mother happened to be a porn star, her most famous movie, "Curse of the Black Pearls 3: Black-door Brother" according to Slughorn was "her best one yet!" Slughorn had scooted forward in his seat as he appraised the Slytherin. "Why I do believe I have that one at home... Now, is that the one where the Captain..." Harry wisely chose to tune out the rest of that little reverie, or he, like the others in that compartment, would have been scarred for life.
Harry exhaled, blowing some unruly hair out of his eyes and stared out at the rolling hills just beyond the foggy window. He noticed Ginny was watching him intently and he did his best to look godly, yet approachable at the same time, which was hard to do.
Finally, Slughorn's line of questioning fell to Harry. Harry had been wondering why he had been invited exactly, but had come to a very obvious (and correct) conclusion: He was the "Chosen One". And Slughorn couldn't possible resist the allure that is Harry Potter. Why Neville and Ginny were there was another situation entirely. He could only guess that it had something to do with the battle at the Ministry... That or Neville was to be another notch in Slughorn's headboard ( :shudder: ) and Ginny was to be chopped up into little bits and used as an ice cream topping of some sort, both ideas which made Harry sick.
"Now, Harry," Slughorn began, pausing to take a bite of apple strudel and then wipe the crumbs from his chin(s) with a dirty handkerchief. "We all know about you..."
Harry could sense the whole compartment (with the exceptions of Ginny, Neville, and Slughorn) rolling their eyes. Like they hadn't gotten enough Harry Potter for one lifetime. (Although Harry himself didn't particularly think one could have too much Harry Potter, but you can never tell with some people...)
Slughorn leaned forward slightly, waiting for Harry's inevitable answer.
"I'm the 'Chosen One', so naturally, you'd want me here," Harry mumbled. He had gotten tired of that "Chosen One" title almost as soon as it had been "bestowed" upon him. Sure, he'd basked in his wonderful "Chosen One-ness" for a while, but after the second day, it got a little old. Especially when every one he came across stared at him shamelessly. It made Harry realize how Hermione's boobs must feel, if they had feelings, that is. But she wouldn't have that problem if she didn't go around showing them to every Tom, Dick, and... Harry... Harry smiled inwardly, then added, I wish.
Slughorn feigned surprise. "Really? Well, there's a shocker!" He sat back on the seat and adjusted his robe collar before continuing. "Actually, I asked you here to ask you to confirm a bit of... gossip I heard in the corridor just a moment ago. I think you know what I'm talking about." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"What?" Harry gagged. It was one thing if creepy-stalker-fan-girls thought he was gay, but quite another if Slughorn thought he was. "I-I..." he stuttered, looking for the right insult to effortlessly toss back at Slughorn, but found none in his rather large arsenal of snappy comebacks. He could see the headlines now: Harry Potter GAY! The Skeletons in HIS Closet Come Out As Well! Harry hoped the writers at The Daily Prophet could come up with a better headline than that, but after seeing the article "Scrimgeour Rules the Ministry with a Hard Sphincter", he had lost all faith in the press.
The others in the compartment looked from Harry to Slughorn and then back like they were some sort of really interesting tennis match that could turn bloody at any moment. Judging by the strained looks on all their faces (Except Neville: He always looked that way), they were obviously holding their breath for Harry to say something. "Piss off," was all he could manage, and the eager fans were pleased. McLaggen looked as if he might wet himself, he was trying so hard not to laugh. Blaise sniffed, which is what Harry supposed his amused laugh sounded like. Slughorn just sat back and eyed Harry. He looked like he might be angry, but Harry wasn't quite sure... Maybe he just liked them feisty... Oh, for the love of Merlin, I've got to stop thinking like this! Harry scolded himself.
"Now, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Slughorn consoled. "I myself have been... sexually confused at some point or another in my life." He placed a porky hand on Harry's shoulder. "Nothing to worry about, lad."
Harry shook his hand off. "I'm NOT gay," he said venomously.
Slughorn nodded exaggeratedly, obviously humoring Harry's denial. "Of course not. Glad we got that... straightened away." He chortled throatily at his own joke.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and stared moodily out the window at the country-side flashing by. He could see Ginny staring at him in the reflection, so he pretended not to notice and intensified his pout, which he was told drove the girls crazy... Now he just hoped it didn't drive the boys crazy as well. "It's not funny..." he mumbled to himself.
So what if he'd once kissed Ron? They were both drunk of their asses and Ron didn't even remember that little incident. (Or the remainder of the rest of the night, for that matter. In fact, both of them remained blissfully unaware of that particular peanut-buttered escapade.) And Harry sure as hell wasn't going to remind him, Ron being somewhat of a homophobe and all. Besides, it had been like what Harry supposed kissing his mother would have been like... If his mum was lanky, red-headed with a guy's voice, answered to "Ron", and had male-bits and a foot fetish that bordered on disturbing, but was still more fucking hilarious than creepy.
Harry shook his head to clear it of all unwanted thoughts and tried to focus on the conversation between Slughorn and Neville, if you could even call it that: Slughorn asked questions while Neville rocked back and forth, scratching his neck and staring at a slice lemon meringue pie on the now half-empty dessert cart.
Slughorn sighed and shook his head. He really should have considered mental screenings of all his prospective favorite students. "I said, your parents were Frank and Alice Longbottom, were they not?" He stared wistfully past Neville. "Good people, your parents were. It was a shame to lose them, eh?
Neville jerked his shoulders in what could be considered either an indifferent or remorseful way, but judging by the look of immense concentration on Neville's face, Harry assumed this movement was merely a twitch. "Harry, can you tell him to shut his gob?" Neville whined and waved his hand in Slughorn's direction. "He's breaking my concentration!" he whispered and pointed toward the pie.
Slughorn cleared his throat and continued, disregarding Neville's words of dismissal. "Yes, well, wonderful wizards your parents were," he concluded.
Neville went on with the staring match between him and the slice of pie as if nothing had been said.
Harry sighed and drew his wand, waving it discretely beside him, and sending the slice of lemon meringue pie on its white, ceramic plate floating towards Neville, who caught the plate with a victorious squeak. "Yess!" he cried. "Score: Neville-one, Pie-23..." How many Neville vs. Pie staring matches has this boy taken part in? Harry wondered. He could ask, but then Neville'd actually have to explain it, and that might lead to Harry actually understanding Neville, which was generally a problem. Neville bit straight down on the pie, not even bothering to pick it up off the plate.
"And you, young lady," Slughorn began, turning away from Neville, who had discarded the pie and was gnawing on the plate with the determinacy a neurotic squirrel would be proud of. Ginny, for that was who Slughorn was referring to, shifted away from Slughorn's roving eyes. Harry stiffened and wished he had had the courage to sit closer to Ginny to be some sort of protection, or at least act as a human sacrifice so that Ginny may be spared of any heinous acts Slughorn had in mind for her. "I was witness to that magnificent Bat-Bogey Hex you cast as I passed your carriage earlier," he finished.
Ginny blushed slightly and nodded, relieved that that seemed to be the only reason he was interested in her.
Slughorn laughed. "And modest as well as a talented witch!" He rubbed her shoulder slowly, as if he was petting a small lap-dog. Harry sat up and held his wand tight beside his right leg, just out of Slughorn's sight, ready to start casting jinxes if things started to get hinky. But instead of possibly molesting Ginny, Slughorn looked up and exclaimed, "Oh my! I hadn't realized it was so late! They've already lit the lamps." He stood and gestured to the door. "Better go put on your robes."
Everyone stood and made their way to the door, causing a small traffic jam in their haste to get out of Slughorn's sight. Harry stood and stretched, happy to be done with Slughorn. And even though 6th year was when they taught you how to make crystal meth, Harry wasn't planning on taking potions this year, so he shouldn't have to deal with Slughorn ever again.
"Get that out of your mouth," he ordered Neville, attempting to pry a broken piece of plate out from between his teeth. Neville growled and eyed Harry's hand hungrily. "And don't you even think about biting me again," Harry warned, tapping Neville on the nose with his index finger. Neville whimpered in defeat and relinquished his death-hold on the spit-covered bit of ceramic. Harry brought the broken plate up to his face and inspected it from a few angles before sticking his tongue out at it and throwing it to the floor. "Hey, don't be upset," he told the downtrodden Neville. "Your intestines will thank me... And I'll let you chew on Ron when we get back to the carriage, alright?"
Neville sighed, then smiled up at Harry, "Okay..."
"Good. Now come on!" Harry pulled him up by the shirt collar and pushed him towards the door before wiping Neville spit off his hand and onto a nearby seat cushion and following him out into the hall.
"Hey," came a soft voice from behind Harry. He felt a light squeeze on his butt.
He whirled around and shouted, "Not in the butt!" his hands cupped protectively over his backside.
Ginny laughed. "Not in the butt, eh? Then where exactly do you want it?" She raised her eyebrows and moved closer to him.
Harry cleared his throat and smiled, relaxing his grip on his ass. "Hey, Ginny. Sorry 'bout that." He ran his fingers through his hair and wished he had spent more time styling it this morning: there wasn't nearly enough mousse to achieve that sex-hair look that was a trademark of his. Now, it just looked kind of like Neville had licked his head repeatedly from alternating sides.
Ginny laughed again. Harry had almost forgotten how pretty she looked when she laughed. "'S okay. I guess you have to be careful about that nowadays. There's no telling what kind of shit people would try and stick up there when you turned your back... Gerbils, pencils, zucchinis..."
"Sounds like you've had some experience with all that..." Harry noted, then pushed Neville forward again to keep him from stopping every few steps.
"Well, you wouldn't believe some of the things Fred and George do to Ron..." She shook her head and sent her hair flying.
"So, um, that hex Slughorn mentioned?" Harry said, desperate to get away from the strange-things-found-in-Ron's-butt conversation they had embarked upon.
She sighed. "Yeah. That. Remember Zacharias Smith? The Huffelpuff from the DA?" She continued after Harry gave a nod. "Well, he was trying to feel me up back in our compartment." Harry curled his hands into fists and pushed Neville again, maybe a bit too hard.
"Ouch, Harry!" Neville whined, turning around and trying to rub where Harry had punched his back, but after not being able to find it, continued to spin around like a dog chasing his tail.
"Sorry, mate," Harry apologized and grabbed Neville's shoulders, pointing him back in the right direction.
"Anyway," Ginny continued. "I hexed him, the bugger... But I didn't know that Slughorn was watching."
"Probably waiting for one of you to take your shirt off..." Harry mumbled crossly, once again remembering the Hermione/Ron/Luggage Room episode for the second, and hopefully last, time that day.
"And he burst in, and I thought I was going to get detention, but he invited me to lunch instead. Mad, eh?" Ginny smiled.
"Yeah... Mad." Harry looked down at Ginny from the corner of his eye, then forward again to push Neville. He noticed Blaise walking just in front of Neville and pushed him extra hard into Blaise's back.
Blaise spun around and spat, "Watch it, you brainless git!"
"Watch what?" Neville asked him, but Blaise was already out of earshot and headed towards the carriage reserved for Slytherin 6th years.
Harry patted him on the back reassuringly, and Neville looked at him from over his shoulder. "Watch what?" he asked Harry worriedly.
Harry didn't answer, but just stared at Blaise's retreating head with concentration. And that's when he got an idea...
"Ginny, there's something I need to take care of... Will you make sure Neville gets back to the compartment in one piece? Or maybe two or three. I really don't care." He mumbled before pushing past Neville and streaking down the hall after Blaise.
"Sure!" Ginny called after him. She'd seen that look in Harry's eyes before. He was about to wreak some havoc... Ron will be sorry he missed it. She shook her head. "Come on," she said as she grabbed Neville's hand and pulled him along after her. Ginny didn't want to be around when all hell broke loose, as it always did when Harry Potter was involved.
Harry patted his pants pocket as he ran after Blaise. His Invisibility Cloak was there, tucked safely between a pack of gum and a slightly melted Chocolate Frog that had been in his pocket for a few weeks now, but Harry had kept forgetting to take it out. Harry withdrew the cloak from its linty prison and threw it over him with a flourish just as Blaise opened the door to the Slytherin compartment. Harry shoved his foot in the door before it could be shut.
Crabbe, like the good goon he was, hopped up to try and shut the door after Blaise. "Bloody door!" growled Crabbe as he slammed the sliding door repeatedly into Harry's foot. He suppressed a grunt as his foot was crushed over and over again. He sincerely hoped it wasn't broken...
"Leave it!" ordered Draco Malfoy, the De Facto leader of the group. Crabbe sneered, but stopped his assault on Harry's foot, not yet totally defeated by the unruly door.
Harry took his chance to shove the door all the way open, forcing Crabbe, who still had a firm hold on the door handle, to lose his balance and topple over onto Malfoy's lap. Harry bit his hand to stifle a laugh as he watched Crabbe flail around Malfoy's crotch-area. He jumped into Crabbe's empty seat and from there, hoisted himself up into the luggage rack directly above. It was a tight squeeze between the wall and Goyle's rather smelly trunk, but Harry just fit. He snaked his hand into his Chocolate Frog-less pocket an fingered the handful of self-lighting fireworks Fred and George had given him for his birthday. "Guaranteed to kill the closest living thing upon impact," they had written on the card. Harry just hoped they lived up to their description.
"Get off, you bloody poof!" Malfoy spat, shoving Crabbe roughly to the floor. Pansy Parkinson shrieked with laughter and Blaise half-smiled and looked out the window. Goyle, with barely enough mental capacity to function as a human being, merely grunted in approval.
"Sorry, boss," Crabbe mumbled as he stood and resumed his seat directly below Harry.
Harry took the small parcel of fireworks out of his pocket and prepared to aim and then run like hell.
"So, Zabini," began Malfoy. "What did Slughorn want?"
Blaise snorted. "What doesn't he want? He just asked us there because we have something to offer him."
Pansy snickered and began stroking Malfoy's hair.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "What I meant was he was trying to befriend students with relations in high places." He picked up the book that was laid over his armrest and shook his head. "I can't believe I associate myself with these people..." he muttered.
"Who else was invited?" demanded Malfoy, shifting away from Pansy's roaming hands.
Blaise sighed in aggravation and looked up from his book. "McLaggen, and some other guy, I really wasn't paying attention. And Longbottom, Weaselette, and precious Potter, of course."
"You know, that Weasley girl isn't bad looking..." Pansy mused. "For a dirty blood traitor, I mean," she corrected herself.
Malfoy looked up at her. "Well then why don't you go find her and have have a sodding orgy?"
Crabbe and Goyle laughed as Pansy rolled her eyes and resumed petting Malfoy.
"He obviously didn't realize that I'm on the train, or-"
"I don't think Slughorn is interested in Death Eaters," Blaise interrupted nonchalantly.
Malfoy looked angry, but choked out a dry laugh instead. "Well, maybe he's not interested in me because he likes them dark."
"Oh, piss off, Malfoy!" Blaise yelled, tossing his book at the laughing Malfoy. Malfoy ducked and the book sailed into the overhead rack, smack into Harry's face. He gasped in shock and stifled a curse as the book thunked to the floor. No one seemed to have head him... Except Malfoy was staring up into the rack, his narrowed eyes moving back and forth as if searching for something... Perhaps he had been heard after all, but that was nothing to worry about now. He once again readied the fireworks.
But before he had a chance to throw them, the train began to lurch to a stop. Harry sighed quietly in disappointment. He'd lost his chance and now he was stuck there until the compartment had emptied.
The train rolled to a halt and Crabbe and Goyle muscled their way out into the hallway, felling first years with every booming step. Blaise followed after them, sneering at the whimpering students as he stepped over them.
"Coming, love?" Pansy drawled, holding out her hand for Malfoy to take.
Malfoy just barely hid a grimace with a pleasant smile. "You go on. I just want to check something..."
Pansy frowned, but left, sliding the door shut behind her.
Malfoy went to the window and peeked through the blinds before lowering them so no one from the corridor would be able to see inside.
Now Harry was interested. He returned the fireworks to his pocket and leaned as far forward as he could, given his current position. He watched as Malfoy lowered his trunk from the rack across from where he was perched. What ever was in there must be really important if even Pansy wasn't allowed to see it. And if Harry could find out what it was, he could steal it and then hold it for ransom or something of that nature.
Without warning, Malfoy spun around, his wand drawn. "Petrificus Totalus!" he yelled, and before Harry could even comprehend what was happening, he felt his body go rigid and slip off the luggage rack and onto the floor at Malfoy's feet, his Invisibility Cloak trapped underneath him.
Malfoy smiled and bent down to Harry's level. "I thought so," he said slowly, staring into Harry's face with a satisfied smirk. "I heard you when Blaise's book hit you..." He made to stand up, but then changed his mind. "Well, as long as I have you here now, there's no need to wait until later..." Malfoy quickly changed positions so that he was no longer squatting next to Harry, but straddling him, putting his weight on his hands and knees on either side of the other boy. Before Harry could blink, Malfoy had lowered his head and pressed his lips against Harry's.
Upon contact, Harry's mind went completely blank. He couldn't even remember his name, not that he really cared about his name at the moment: Draco-fucking-Malfoy was kissing the pants of him! Strangely though, Harry couldn't decide if he liked it or not... Being somewhat of a self-proclaimed horny bastard, Harry was willing to kiss almost anything that would kiss him back. (The only real exception being Neville, of course, but that was only because he tended to slobber.) But once again, this was Malfoy he was kissing. Correction. Malfoy who was kissing him. Plus, he was paralyzed, so there wasn't much he could do one way or the other, so he busied himself thinking up expletives to scream at Malfoy once the curse was lifted. It didn't matter if he liked it or not: He was being molested. That was the story and Harry was sticking to it.
Malfoy growled in the back of his throat and pulled away. "This would be so much more fun if you could move," he said as he frowned down at Harry. "Promise you won't run away?" Not waiting for Harry to answer, seeing as he couldn't, Malfoy turned and opened his trunk. He rummaged around for a few seconds, tossing out a few articles of clothing (two sets of robes and a rather flamboyant necktie) before finding what he had been looking for: A long necklace made up of tiny silver links.
"I don't think you'd run away, Potter," Malfoy said as he pulled the chain over Harry's head. "This is just... insurance." Malfoy smiled. As soon as the chain was completely around Harry's neck, it tightened until there was no possible way for him to slip it off over his head as Malfoy had done. Once satisfied that the chain was as tight as it could get without choking Harry, Malfoy retrieved his wand and lifted the curse.
"What the bloody fucking hell was that?" Harry yelled. "You fucking-!"
Malfoy made a zipping gesture with his hand and Harry fell silent, finding it absolutely impossible to talk, which was a shame because he hadn't even gotten to use any of the really good insults. Harry frowned menacingly and tried to convey all his thoughts through clever hand gestures.
"Would you stop that?" Malfoy caught Harry's arms and pinned them down, crossing them right over left on the ground above his head. "Honestly, Potter. I knew you were dim, but I had no idea to what extent." He bent down closer so that his lips barely touched Harry's ear, sending shivers up Harry's spine. (Not shivers of anticipation, mind you. Harry's ears happened to be very ticklish. Why, just the thought of someone breathing on his ear would often send Harry into hysterics.)
"If you yell like that, your sidekicks might come to your rescue," Malfoy whispered seductively. "And we can't have that." Slowly and deliberately, he licked the outside of Harry's ear, the tip of his tongue just brushing the inside before it darted out again for another circuit of Harry's earlobe. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't help a small smile from forming on his lips.
"Can you behave?"
Harry hadn't noticed that Malfoy had stopped licking his ear until he had spoken. Harry opened his eyes slowly to find that he had pulled away and was now hovering over him once again, one of his hands still firmly locked around both of Harry's wrists. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and nodded. Malfoy made the zipping motion once again, in the opposite direction. Harry assumed this meant he was able to talk. However, he didn't get the chance.
Malfoy leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's once again, his tongue seeking entrance to Harry's mouth. Harry tried to fight it, but some unseen force wrenched his mouth open and granted Malfoy complete access, which he took full advantage of. A slow realization of diluted horror dawned on Harry: It didn't matter what he tried to do, he was under Malfoy's control. He made a mental note to ask Hermione just what the fuck the chain around his neck was as Malfoy took his bottom lip and pinched it between his teeth.
"Ow!" Harry yelped. "Not so rough," he warned the other boy as best as he could while their lips were still locked. Though muffled, Malfoy seemed to get his message and pulled away.
"I think you like it," Malfoy said with a smirk and an almost imperceptible wink. He released Harry's wrists for a mere second. Just long enough for him to make a cross sign with his two forefingers. Harry didn't even have to guess what this one meant. To prove his theory, he tried picking his hands up off the ground. He could move his fingers, but his hands remained securely attached to the floor.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow as Harry stared up at him in resignation, his breathing a little heavier than normal. "At least you learn fast," he noted as he slowly crept down Harry's body, running his hands down his chest and stomach as he went.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Malfoy's hand as he started to undo the button of Harry's jeans was as good as any silencing charm. The zipper followed after the button and before Harry knew it, both his pants and his boxers had been pulled down to his knees in one swift jerk. A soft gasp led to choppy breaths as Malfoy took Harry's erection in his hand and pressed his thumb to the slit, making Harry unwillingly arch into his hand before he teasingly let go, moving both hands to either side of Harry to get more leverage. Harry shut his eyes, but quickly opened them again as Malfoy slowly rocked his hips into Harry's, grinding Harry's exposed manhood against the bulge that was his own, still hidden inside his pants.
Wanting more, Harry bucked into the other boy, as Malfoy continued to thrust his hips into Harry's at an agonizingly slow pace. With a noise that was somewhere between a moan of pleasure and a groan of discontent, Harry struggled against his binds. Malfoy pretended not to notice his desperation as he licked his way around Harry's neck, pulling down his shirt collar with one finger as his mouth ventured lower, and stopped just above his collarbone before he began to suck.
Harry groaned. "Mmm, Draco!" His hands clenched and unclenched, searching for something to hold onto, but finding nothing but empty air. Needing to be closer, Harry squirmed and kicked his pants the rest of the way off so that he could wind his legs around the blonde's waist, matching the thrusts with his own.
Without removing his lips from Harry's neck, Malfoy made another cross with his fingers and quickly separated them as if flinging something to the ground. Harry's hands immediately flew to his partner. One tangled in his hair while the other went to his pants, fumbling with the zipper.
Malfoy released his pressure on Harry's neck just enough so that he could talk clearly. "Nuh uh uh. Not so fast," he whispered, his breath cold on Harry's sweat-slicked skin, as he slowly drew the other boy's hand away from his twitching erection. "We have to save something for later, eh, love?"
With a grunt of disappointment, Harry threw his arm around Malfoy's shoulder and rocked faster, trying to get Malfoy to do the same. Malfoy responded by wrapping his arms around Harry, his hands supporting the smaller boy's back as he arched into him, his head flopping back as he panted for air. He too quickened his pace, but only for the other boy's sake: Malfoy had long ago learned self control when it came to these matters.
Malfoy knew Harry was about to come when he felt his body go rigid in his arms. He shuddered violently as Malfoy once again placed his hand around his cock, massaging it in time with their thrusts. With a strangled scream of ecstasy as he reached his climax, Harry spilled his seed into Draco's waiting hand, then fell limp in his arms. Malfoy could feel Harry's heart beating as he tried to catch his breath.
Malfoy found that he was breathing harder too and his erection was throbbing painfully in his pants, but he suppressed the urge to come with some difficulty. Watching the great Harry Potter grow weak in his arms was almost better than an orgasm.
He gently laid Harry back down on the ground and removed his sticky hand from around his cock and held it out before him. Harry slowly opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed him and watched as Malfoy sensually put his middle finger to his lips and push it into his mouth, sucking it clean of Harry's juices, his eyes never once leaving Harry's. It was like he wanted to establish dominance over the other boy.
Harry swallowed. Just watching him do that made Harry hard again. Malfoy noticed this and paused in his cleanup duties. "Don't think it'll happen again so soon," he said with a smirk. "Besides," he continued after swiping his tongue across the palm of his hand, "you'll only get it when I want you to have it."
And with that, he stood, picking up his wand as he did so. With a flourish, Harry was fully clothed once again, the only evidence of their rendezvous was Harry's crimson-face and heavy breathing. Another wave of his wand and his trunk repacked itself just as neatly as it had been before Malfoy emptied its contents. Malfoy left it where it was for a house elf to retrieve (as they usually did) and went to the compartment door.
"You can thank me later," Malfoy informed Harry as he reached for the latch. He paused and then added over his shoulder as an afterthought, "You will thank me later." Silently, he strode from the carriage, all the swagger of the normal Malfoy in place to keep up appearances.
Harry exhaled and moved his hair off his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. 'What the bloody fucking hell was that for' indeed!
