Author: Anonymous Potter Lover
Genre: romance, humor, general
Rating: M/R
Summary: The rematch is in just a few hours, and Harry gives Draco a note to meet him. Harry is strangely tired and falls asleep talking to Ron after meeting with Draco, while Draco himself runs into some….trouble with Blaise.
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Once Again In Dreams
Chapter 3
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Draco struggled against the silk ties that held him down. They bound him quite tightly and they were digging into the pale skin of his arms and legs. If he stayed like this for too long, he might lose blood circulation.
"Goddamn it Blaise! Get these things off!"
Blaise sighed theatrically and crossed his arms after replacing his wand.
"Now, now, Draco. Stop struggling. It'll be easier on yourself."
"No! Bastard!"
"Please stop struggling. If you don't I'll essentially be humping a doll," Blaise said, frowning.
Draco clenched his teeth and continued to try and force his way out of the ties.
"I guess I better just struggle harder then shouldn't I? After all, I wouldn't want to make things any easier or pleasant for you."
Blaise smiled and quickly jumped up onto the bed, straddling Draco's hips.
"I could easily make you stop."
"Get. Off. Me. Now," Draco growled. This was not a pleasant situation and it seemed to be getting worse by the second. Any minute now Blaise would surely have both of their shirts off and be grinding hard against Draco. Fuck, he thought. I knew I should have reset the wards around my bed.
As predicted, Blaise ignored Draco's order and began to take off his shirt and grind slowly against his groin. Slowly he began to grind faster and faster. Draco was drowning in agonizing pleasure. Damn.
I will not enjoy this. I will not enjoy this. I will not enjoy this. I will not enjoy thi-
Draco's thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly felt cool hands on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw thick tufts of black hair drawing along his stomach. Harry Potter. Wait…what?! That's not Potter. That will never be Potter. Why am I thinking of Potter anyway?! And at a time like this…
Blaise's trail of fluttery kisses brought Draco back to the present. They were slowly getting lower and lower until they reached the spot just above Draco's waistband. He was getting extremely nervous. This kept progressing farther and farther and no one had yet come up from the common room to save him. It had been half an hour since their free period started and it seemed that this would continue until dinner. Not good.
"Blaise… don't."
"Hmm…I think not. I'm rather enjoying myself."
"I don't want this! It's disgusting. I'm not gay!"
"Not really. Besides, by the time I'm through with you, you'll love me so much I won't be able to keep you off me. Not that I'll try, of course."
Draco cried out as Blaise roughly pulled off his pants, the fabric rubbing in places he'd rather it hadn't.
At that moment, the heavy wooden door to the dorms swung open and a high, girlish voice pushed its way into the room.
"Draco? Draco where are you?"
Pansy stepped through the door, her eyes widening, and stopped short at the sight of a half naked Blaise straddling a half naked Draco who was tied to the bed with silk cords. She immediately flushed and turned her head.
"Draco….Draco I….how could you do this? I thought you loved me," Pansy whispered.
Draco gave her a look of desperation and mouthed two words.
Save me.
Pansy fumbled for a few seconds, finding lip reading a rather difficult skill, then pulled out her wand quick as lightning.
"Blaise….let Draco go."
Blaise pouted and turned to face Pansy, still straddling Draco.
"Now why would I do that? I quite like where I am."
"Blaise, do it now or I'll curse your slimy gay guts out," Pansy growled furiously.
"No."
"Blaise…" Draco warned. "Don't test her."
"I'm not moving!" Blaise protested.
Pansy glared at Blaise and then pointed her wand directly at him.
"Desino! Okay, Blaise. Get off of Draco and put your clothes back on."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth Blaise started shivering.
"Don't try and throw it off, Blaise. You'll hurt yourself," Pansy remarked smugly.
Blaise glared at her and got up off of Draco. Slowly he pulled his clothes back on.
"Alright. Now leave the room and never do anything like this with Draco again!"
Grudgingly Blaise obliged. He didn't have much choice.
"Good."
Pansy smiled and walked over to Draco, admiring his smooth chest.
"God. Thank you, Pansy. I thought he was going to rape me."
"Well Draco, he probably was."
"Oh that makes me feel so much better."
Pansy shrugged. "It's just the truth, it can't be helped."
"Great. Now could you get these things off of me," Draco said, indicating the silk ropes that bound him to the bed.
"Weeeeell….I don't know. I quite fancy you like this, Draco. You're rather fetching all sweaty and half-naked."
Draco groaned. "Please, Pansy?"
"Alright," Pansy sighed. "But you owe me later. I do think I've been scarred for life."
Draco hmphfed.
"I'm not bad looking you know. And in my defense he was the one that's been coming on to me.Anyway, we should get going. Dinner is just about to start."
Potter will be there. What? Of course he'll be there. It's dinner. He needs to eat too. Why am I even thinking about this?
Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes theatrically. "That's not what I was talking about, Draco."
Draco ignored her, started walking, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Why in the bloody fuck did Potter keep popping into his head? Whatever the reason, it probably had something to do with the rematch that would be happening just half an hour after dinner. In the meantime, Draco was hungry as hell. All of that….activity had gotten him pretty worked up and he needed to get back his strength for the game.
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Harry sighed and poked at his mashed potatoes. He had taken another strengthening potion and pain-numbing potion and for the most part it seemed to be working, but he just didn't want to play in the rematch. He had a fifteen inch essay due in Potions and he really needed to finish it. He could always copy from Hermione's, though. That made Harry feel marginally better and so he continued eating his dinner.
He looked up at the Slytherin table. The spot where Malfoy normally sat was empty. He wasn't sure why he happened to notice it, but just after he did, he noticed the doors to the Great Hall opening and a blur of blonde hair slip through quick as the wind. Malfoy was late to dinner. Not that it was surprising, really, but still. He was probably planning all the ways he could sabotage the Quidditch game. Thinking about this brought back memories of the previous years. In several of those past Quidditch games, something had been done to either hurt or kill Harry. There was the sabotaged Bludger, the 'sabotaged' broom that had, in fact, turned out to be the work of Professor Quirrel, and countless other minor things that hadn't made it onto the front page of the Daily Prophet. Although none had actually turned out to be the work of Malfoy, Harry couldn't help but be mad at him anyway. It was a bit of a habit by this point. After all, they had been hating each other for several years now. It was hard to stop insulting someone when it had pretty much become sport.
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A half an hour later and both the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams were suiting up and getting ready for the game.
Because of the rematch, Classes for the next day had been cancelled so the students could actually get more than four hours of sleep. All of the students were excited at the prospect of a day devoid of classes, and all of the teachers, excepting Professor Snape, were thrilled at the prospect of not dealing with rowdy students on an adrenaline high.
The Quidditch players waited in their respective entrances for their team to be called out. Slytherin was anxious for the game. Potter had seemed distracted lately and that could give them the advantage…but they'd never won against Gryffindor because of Potter. Today, they would see. Gryffindor wasn't too worried. Just as the Slytherins knew, they hadn't lost a game yet, and Harry, though he was distracted, felt on top of his game. This would be a cinch.
Fuck, thought Harry. Being distracted really takes away from my game.
They were forty minuteinto the game, and Gryffindor was down fifty to ninety. Granted they had had to use some of their back up players because one of their beaters and their seeker were out with injuries ten minutes into the game. Slytherin was playing dirty, as usual and kept knocking off important players. Madame Hooch was giving them the evil eye, but so far they hadn't broken any rules and a foul couldn't be called. Harry squinted through the thin mist that enveloped the field. It made it difficult to see the Snitch, but he knew that sooner or later he would spot that shining ball of gold. Just as usual, he did: it was by the opposite goal posts on the far left. Harry tilted into a tight, fast dive and came up just feet from the ground. He streaked across the field toward the Snitch, his scarlet robes billowing, and his black hair growing more and more messy. This is what he lived for. Then Malfoy pulled up next to him. He started ferociously ramming Harry, attempting to throw him off his broom. Several times he was almost successful, until Harry, fed up with it, executed an intricate downward barrel roll, managing to get out of the way just as Malfoy attempted to ram him, causing him to lose his balance and instead fall off of his broom.
"Get back here Potter! Help me back on my broom!"
Well, almost.
Harry turned back around and faced Malfoy on his broom, keeping the Snitch in his peripheral vision. He could go after the Snitch and win the game now. Or he could fly back to Malfoy and keep him from falling fifty feet to a bloody painful death. Harry hated making these kinds of decisions. He almost always regretted the choice he made later. Sighing, Harry flew over to Malfoy and held out his hand.
"Here. Take my hand."
Malfoy looked at Harry's hand and wrinkled his nose. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, Malfoy. You have to if you don't want to fall and break into hundreds of irreparable, irreplaceable bloody pieces. But then it's your choice," Harry said, shrugging.
Malfoy grumbled under his breath and finally reached up and delicately took Harry's hand. Suddenly...
"Dracowillyoumarryme?"
Oh.
"Er, could you say that again?"
The dark haired boy took in a deep, shaky breath. "Uh, I was just wondering if you would...marry...me."
"Why?"
"W-Well, I figured if you'd rather marry me than Pansy, it would be good if you did because that way you wouldn't have to marry her." he explained quickly, hoping his logic made sense.
Draco sat confused for a few seconds, then burst out laughing and smiling. "Of course!"
The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. That's good."
"Yeah! I'll marry you!" Draco exclaimed happily. "Oh, we need rings though."
The dark haired boy looked around helplessly. "Well, where are we supposed to find rings?"
Draco bent over and picked up two small twigs. "These will work, I think..." he said, bending them into circles and testing one on his finger. "Yeah, they're fine." He turned around to face the boy and grabbed his hand.
Draco's brow furrowed. "What in the…."
"Draco, no," Harry gasped.
Draco had been distracted enough to just miss Harry's hand. His grip slipped and he fell from his broom. There were fifty feet between him and the ground. It was a significant fall. Too bad he had never paid attention in Charms, he was sure that they had learned of a cushioning spell at some point….
At that moment, Draco hit the ground with a sickening crunch. The last things he heard were the screams of the students, and his own thoughts rambling on in his head.