Disclaimer: None of this is mine; everything belongs to the great Joanne K. Rowling.
A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews to KioshiUshima, Fae0306, hulagal13, Anathema Sicarie Black, Seraphinus, Snowbound, and Of Stories Told! Also, thank you to all the readers who favorited and followed my story!
Enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 4
Harry didn't know for how long he sat in the alcove, knees pulled up to his chest, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. This was probably the weirdest experience he had ever had in his life – he still could not believe what he had done.
He had gone way farther than he had wanted to – hell, three months ago he had just vaguely realized that he liked men better than women and now he had given Flint a fucking blow-job, in fucking public (being hidden by a thread-bare curtain most certainly wasn't private), what was going on with him?
What had possessed him to do that? What had he been thinking? He never should have done it, it should never have happened, that much was clear; but he couldn't deny that he had enjoyed it. There was something about Flint, his imposing posture, his dark eyes, his crude comments that made goose-bumps run over his skin. There was something thrilling about him, a dark pleasure in doing something that was forbidden and enjoying it.
But he knew he should not, could not trust Flint. He was widely known for being an arsehole and a brute with a mean temper (though Harry had found him to be rather dark-humoured than mean so far) and he certainly didn't refrain from physical violence. Besides, he was a Slytherin and you couldn't trust them (Harry didn't believe every Slytherin was evil, but he had just too many bad experiences with them) – even if they were not conspiring for Harry's downfall, they always had some scheming going on. And hadn't his parents been Death Eaters? Harry vaguely remembered Mr. Weasley mentioning the name Flint once when he had spoken about Death Eaters. Of course that didn't mean that Flint was a Death Eater – or would become one, too – but it was not unlikely, either. And he still had no idea whether Flint had told him the truth about the bloody dragons.
Everything was because of the bloody Tournament, he decided, it was making a way worse mess of his life than it had been before. If he hadn't been forced to take part in the tournament, none of this would ever have happened and he would probably be lounging in Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione right now, without being haunted by images of certain Slytherins.
Fuck. He groaned and ran his hands through his tousled hair. How did he manage to bring himself into these no-easy-way-out situations all the time? Maybe Hermione had been right, after all, that he had a knack for finding dangers – but he hadn't asked Flint to shove him into dark, tiny alcoves and snog him senseless and then suck his cock, had he? The taste still lingered on his tongue, strong and salty, but definitely not bad. Alright, he had a serious problem going on here.
He knew he should rather avoid Flint during the next days (better even, for the rest of his days in Hogwarts), but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to – firstly, Flint could be really persistent, secondly Harry didn't want to avoid him all that much; he was actually looking forward to repeating what they had done earlier.
With a sigh, he stood up and began his way back to Gryffindor tower. It was later than he had anticipated as the Common Room was almost deserted; only some lone Seventh Years were lounging in a corner, deeply into a game of Gobstones; and Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus were sitting by the fire.
Hermione was reading, of course, but the boys were playing Exploding Snap – Ron was obviously losing as he had quite some prominent smudges of ash on his face and his collar. With a grunt that might be interpreted as a greeting, Harry slumped into the chair next to them and wished he could fall asleep immediately. He felt incredibly tired.
"You're late," Hermione said sharply. "It is one hour after curfew."
"Really?" Harry asked, unbothered – during all his time in Hogwarts, he had never truly cared about curfew, he thought it was stupid anyway.
Hermione closed her book with a thump. "We will study the Summoning Charm tomorrow, it is too late today. I am going to bed. Good night, everyone."
"Night, Hermione," Harry mumbled, smiling at her tiredly; their classmates, still involved in their game, grumbled something incomprehensible.
"Don't forget about Hagrid," Hermione whispered into his ear as she passed him, "also, do something about your hair, you look a lot more ruffled than normally." She pierced him with a dark stare and Harry hastily tried to flatten his hair, hoping she did not draw the right conclusions – of course he had forgotten to check himself in a bathroom. She raised her eyebrows and disappeared into her dorm.
Ron yelped when a whole deck of cards exploded into his face and Harry coughed as he suddenly found himself in a cloud of ash, too.
"That was a spectacularly stupid move," Dean said with a grin, stretching back into his chair while Ron grumbled and coughed and shook ash from his hair.
"So, what was your date like?" Seamus asked casually, looking up and down Harry's body.
"It was not a date!" Harry hissed at him.
Seamus smiled. "So what's the reason your shirt is buttoned up the wrong way? And why your hair looks a lot worse than normally?"
Harry frowned at him. "Yeah, like I pay a lot of attention to my exterior in the dead of the night." But on the inside he was panicking: Could they see it? Did they see in his face that he had sucked Flint's cock? Surely not, because at least Ron would have freaked out already.
"What did you do with that girl – or was it a boy?" Seamus drawled.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry hissed at him. "Would you please shut up about that bullshit; not every guy is constantly making out with everyone he meets like you do!"
Not paying Seamus any more heed, he left to pick up his Invisibility Cloak from their dorm and sneaked out of the Common Room which was not too hard as neither of the two groups still awake paid attention to the portrait hole.
xXx
About half an hour later, Harry stomped through the Forbidden Forest, trying to follow Hagrid and Madam Maxime, stepping into puddles, stumbling over branches and cursing quietly under his breath. Thorns scratched his face and sometimes he whirled around because he thought there were shadows moving behind him, but he could not see a living being.
"Quiet now," Hagrid whispered (as far as he could whisper, anyway) and Harry was not sure whether Hagrid indicated Madam Maxime or him, but his mouth fell open when he saw the dragons.
Flint had been right. The people organizing the Tournament were actually mad enough to bring four very alive, very dangerous and very furious dragons into a Forest (fire breathing dragons in a forest, who had ever come up with that brilliant idea?) and then they had the audacity to actually expect the Champions to survive?
Harry was still busy gaping at the largest dragon which was screeching loudly and smashing its long tail with many thorns into one side of its cage when Hagrid's booming voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What kind o' dragon is he?" he called out to one of the men trying to calm the dragons – in vain, of course.
"Hey there, Hagrid! It's a Hungarian Horntail," a voice answered – Harry knew that voice, wasn't that Charlie, Ron's brother? How weird. "And she's a lady, besides."
"And the Champions fight 'em?" Hagrid asked – for Harry's sake, he hoped.
"Nah, that would be mad," Charlie said, "they just have to steal a golden egg which is hidden between their own eggs."
Harry wanted to rip off his Invisibility Cloak, run right up to these madmen and yell at them at the top of his lungs. Had they gone completely over the bend? How on earth was Dumbledore allowing this?
Well, he just had to steal a golden egg from a mother dragon guarding her eggs; wouldn't that be a piece of cake? Harry knew next to nothing about dragons besides the fact that they could fly, breathe fire and were obviously angered easily. Were dragons even part of their curriculum? Harry doubted that very severely and he wondered how the judges expected the Champions to fulfil the task.
The screeching Horntail didn't look like she might be lulled to sleep by a flute – and Harry could hardly bring Fawkes with him to blind the dragon. Well, he thought sarcastically, at least he had some experience fighting highly dangerous magical creatures – which might even give him a slight advantage over the other Champions – if only the Task were not impossible in the first place.
Why did the thrice-damned Goblet have to pick him? Couldn't he have picked anyone else? He would enjoy watching Malfoy trying to get past this dragon very much.
Hagrid and Madam Maxime had obviously seen enough of the dragons as they turned for the way back (not without Hagrid giving the dragons a longing look); hastily Harry scrambled out of the way and trooped back behind them. So obviously that was what Hagrid thought to be a romantic date – he snickered at the thought that Flint had suggested this very same stroll to him – oh fuck, Flint, how had he known about the dragons?
Harry decided to ask him as soon as he saw him next – he'd better have a good explanation for that – and to skip sleep tonight in favour of finding out as much as possible about dragons.
xXx
Dawn found him deeply asleep, however, his head placed uncomfortably on a thick tome called How to Care for Your New Exciting Pet – Everything You Need to Know about Fostering Dragons. He awoke to someone picking his finger repeatedly and raised his head drowsily – so much about skipping sleep. Hedwig sat on the table before him, looking at him reproachfully with her large, yellow eyes.
"Hello, beautiful," he yawned, stroking her feathers. "Don't look at me like that; I didn't plan to fall asleep here." Hedwig blinked and Harry blinked back; things were getting really weird when he felt scolded by his own owl.
She held out her foot and Harry unfastened a parchment from her talon. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, stroking her soft feathers. The letter was from Sirius and it held no unnecessary information: Harry, meet me at the fireplace of Gryffindor Tower tonight at 1 am. S.
Sirius would probably Floo there, Harry pondered, so he'd better make sure Gryffindor Tower was empty by the time – and maybe Sirius even had a brilliant idea about the dragon. Apparently, he and Harry's father had been quite the pranksters at school and hopefully he was just as brilliant as Fred and George.
Hedwig nudged his hand and Harry smiled at her. "You're right, I'd better get out before Madam Pince will find me here. It's not like there are any useful books in here." At least, Harry knew a lot about dragons now, but the more he knew the less hope he had. Dragons seemed to be invincible; their skin was practically impenetrable and they were incredibly fast, agile and strong – and there was the part about flying and breathing fire.
With a sigh, he got up and returned to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily no one was awake when he sneaked back in and Harry looked at his bed longingly – he knew he probably shouldn't sleep, but surely five minutes of lying down were okay, right?
The sun is rising and he hates it, hates the light that creeps in through the barred windows, the light that weakens him, the light that shows off every degenerate bit of the house he is in, every bit of dirt on the windows, every bit of dust in the corners and on the floor and every bit of the pathetic fool Wormtail who is trembling on the floor before him.
"You are useless," he hisses and Wormtail sobs, writhing on the ground. "You have failed me over and over again, and now you cannot even maintain a house?"
"Forgive me, my Lord," he sobs, sniffling into his ragged sleeve.
He snorts with disgust. Truly, could he have found anyone even more useless? "Stop writhing on the floor and do something useful for once in your life. Clean this room immediately or –"
"Harry? Harry! Wake up, Harry!" Harry moaned. He was under water, floating in darkness, an eerie, quiet darkness, and something was pulling him up; but it was impossible because there were greedy fingers on his wrists and ankles, pulling him back down – a high-pitched shriek that is like music to his ears, "useless traitor, you are a disappointment to anyone you have ever met" – but thin traces of light were trickling before his eyes and Harry tried to move towards them – and he screams, finally – "Harry!"
Harry jerked awake and immediately slumped back. His scar hurt like hell and he vaguely recalled a weird dream he had just had – something about cleaning? How strange.
"Finally!" Ron said, sounding irritated. "I've been yelling at you for almost fifteen minutes."
"Oh," Harry said vaguely, "well, I'm awake now." The pain in his scar was fading and he could scarcely remember it had hurt at all.
Ron snorted. "About bloody time. Dinner is in two hours and Hermione is freaking out, as usual."
Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Perfect, just what I need."
"And Seamus is still talking some kind of bullshit about you having a date and apparently an exhausting sex life. But you didn't have a date, did you?" Ron squinted at him and Harry rolled his eyes.
"No, it wasn't, honestly, Ron. But it doesn't matter anyway as I have a very serious problem right now: A dragon."
"Huh?" Ron said, but then his face paled. "You mean – no way! The First Task?"
"Yep," Harry said, suddenly feeling oddly calm about it. "I tried to read up everything I could find about them last night."
Someone knocked on the door. "Harry? Ron?" Hermione called.
"Come in!" Ron called back and turned back to Harry. "Are you serious?"
"Serious about what?" Hermione asked, marching into the room. "Serious about staying out all night and sleeping all day and making me worry horribly?"
"Don't you start with that again," Harry groaned. "Hermione, I'm having a problem here. For the First Task, I have to steal a golden egg which is hidden among the eggs of a fucking mother dragon."
Hermione shrieked, clasping her hands before her mouth. "They can't do that! They wouldn't!"
"The dragons are already here," Harry said drily. "Saw them with my own eyes last night. And they are really, really huge. And really, really scary."
"But dragons are almost impossible to overcome!" Hermione gasped. "Normally, there are at least six dragon keepers for handling one dragon! They can't do this! It's way too dangerous! You might die!"
"Thank you for cheering me up," Harry said and Hermione immediately faltered.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. But… I'm sure we will find a way. I mean, you already killed a Basilisk and a dragon can't even kill you with its eyes."
"Wonderful," Harry said, "and I already worried about having to fight blind."
"Stop being so cynical!" Hermione hissed at him. "Now, as I was saying, dragons must surely have some weak points. I'll immediately go to the Library and –"
"You needn't bother looking through the Care for Magical Creatures section," Harry interrupted her. "I already did that last night and now I know how often to clip a dragon's toe-nails, but I haven't learned anything helpful."
"At least you spent your last night doing something useful," Hermione said. "Ron and I will go to the Library now and we will find out as much as we can, won't we, Ron?"
"Uhm… yeah, of course. I mean, it can't be that hard, can it? If they expect Diggory to make it past a dragon?"
"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded him, but Harry groaned again. He had completely forgotten about Cedric, who probably really didn't know, being oh-so-honest-and-fair, but it wouldn't be fair to him, if he didn't know, but the other Champions did.
"Oh yeah, and Snuffles will Floo in the Common Room tonight at one am, any ideas?"
"I'll ask Fred and George for some dungbombs," Ron said after a few seconds. "They still owe me for not ratting them out about some stuff they did to Mum's kitchen equipment during summer."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I guess it is necessary. Do you think Sirius might have any good ideas?"
"I hope so," Harry said. "If he doesn't, I'm really lost – even more lost than now, I mean. But give me ten minutes and I'll come to the Library with you."
"You won't," Hermione said sharply, "do you think I have not noticed you haven't done any of your homework for next week? Ron and I will go to the Library and you will sit down and do your homework. Or do you want to receive even more detention?"
Harry grumbled, but gave in after a few more of Hermione's strict remarks – she was right, after all, assuming he did survive the First Task he would probably have to face detention until the end of the school year if he didn't do at least some of his homework.
xXx
During dinner, they sat apart from the other Gryffindors, caught up in a heated whispered discussion. Harry felt an odd pang of happiness about their trio being at work again – he had truly missed this.
"I think the idea with the runes might work," Ron whispered. "You only have to draw the runes for them not to breathe fire and not to fly –"
"It wouldn't work," Hermione whispered back, frowning. "You would have to draw the runes around the dragon and she would probably attack you while you do so and you still would have to step into the rune circle to get the egg."
Ron looked crestfallen. "It could have been so easy."
Harry had to smile. "It was worth a thought. Did you find anything else?"
"Dragon fire is almost impossible to put out," Hermione said slowly, "and their skin is practically impenetrable, except for their eyes and on certain points of their belly."
"So you just have to hit her eyes!" Ron said excitedly – a bit too loudly, for Hermione hissed at him.
"But she will be moving," Harry argued. "And what if I don't hit? I don't have a lot of time – and I am not that good at aiming at larger distances – there's a reason I'm a Seeker and not a Chaser, you know."
"Probably it will be your best chance, though," Ron said. "We'll go back to the Library tomorrow, and maybe Sirius has an even better idea, but I don't think there will be a lot of possibilities."
Harry was distracted from their discussion when he saw Flint walking by – giving him a short grin as he passed. Harry narrowed his eyes at him – Flint still owed him an explanation for the dragon thing. Flint tilted his head towards the doors and Harry nodded slightly, frowning after him as Flint strolled out as though he didn't have a care in this world.
"I'll see you in the Common Room, okay?" Harry said to Ron and Hermione as soon as Flint had left the Great Hall.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, touching his hand lightly. "You have been a bit… secretive lately."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, "except for the dragon. And the Tournament. And all my detentions and my lack of sleep. Don't worry, Hermione." He smiled at her, but Hermione didn't look reassured.
"If you think so," she said slowly.
Harry smiled at them and hurried out of the Great Hall, peeking left and right for Flint. A hand grabbed him from behind and Harry whirled around. "Would you stop doing that?" he hissed at Flint. "Can't you just walk up and say "hello" like a normal person?"
Flint just grinned. "Wherever would be the fun in that? So, what's up, Potter?"
"Not here," Harry said. "Let's go somewhere else."
"Can't wait," Flint breathed into his ear, his fingers trailing over Harry's throat, and Harry shuddered slightly, he was a bit sensitive there. Annoyed, he brushed Flint's hand off – he would not let himself be distracted.
After a few turns, Harry marched them into an abandoned classroom and closed the door carefully behind them. Flint was leaning against the wall, watching him silently and Harry tried to look threatening, but Flint was more than a head taller than him and at least twice as heavy, so it just didn't work. So he settled for a scowl and snarled: "How do you know about the dragons?"
"So you've seen them?" Flint asked.
"Obviously," Harry said, "so, how do you know?"
"Do you really think it is that easy to smuggle four grown dragons from Romania to Britain without anyone realizing? Almost everyone in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures knows and my father happens to work there."
"Really," Harry said doubtfully.
Flint rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how many permits are necessary to relocate a dragon?"
"I don't," Harry retorted, "and I don't really care. But…" He hesitated.
"Not as exciting as you had thought?" Flint asked, raising his eyebrows. "You thought I had infiltrated the committee organizing the Tournament?"
"Somehow I did," Harry admitted; and Flint laughed that dark, husky laugh that Harry had come to enjoy. "But why did you tell me?"
Flint grinned. "As opposed to what you probably think of me, I do not enjoy watching people being roasted by dragons. And particularly not someone who is surprisingly… gifted at certain things, but don't overwork your pretty head on the details," Flint drawled. "Come here."
"I don't have time for that tonight," Harry said though he wanted nothing but being touched, being kissed by Flint. Besides he was not all that convinced by Flint's explanations, but he still needed to come up with a clever idea how to extricate the truth from him. "I have to work on surviving next Friday. You don't happen to know how to actually get past a dragon, do you?"
Flint sighed and spread his arms. "Come here."
This time, Harry couldn't resist and walked over, leaning his forehead against Flint's reassuringly warm and broad chest, feeling oddly secure in the muscular arms around him. Flint's left rested on the small of his back and somehow it felt as though it belonged there, Harry thought. For a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in Flint's scent, dark and musky and indescribably alluring. "Don't think about what the dragon can do, but about what you can do. What are you good at?"
"Nothing," Harry said immediately – and it was true, except for Defense he didn't really excel in any class – not as much as Hermione at least – but he could hardly duel the dragon, could he?
Flint snorted and put his fingers under Harry's chin, tilting his head slightly backwards so Harry had to look up at him. "I know that's not true," he said. "If I have to listen to Malfoy complaining one more time how much better than him you and Granger are – only because you are the teachers' pets, of course – I'm gonna break his stuck-up neck. What are you good at, Potter?"
Harry couldn't help but snicker – it was kind of satisfying that Malfoy was actually jealous of him and Hermione. "Well, I guess I'm good at flying," he said slowly. "And I'm good at cooking. And cleaning. Kind of useless, though."
"If you don't want to seduce the dragon with your superior cooking skills, yes," Flint said, "but you might try that with me." He grinned and pulled Harry closer. "But flying, that's an idea."
"But I won't have my broom," Harry said.
Flint rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you are such a Muggle, Potter. Remember that stick of wood in your pocket?"
Harry blushed deeply. "Um, right," he said. "But I'm not sure I can actually outfly a dragon."
"You'll have to find out," Flint said. "But I know you're the best flyer in the school – you are a lot better than Malfoy, unfortunately – and you are light and fast and have amazing reflexes."
"Stop it," Harry mumbled. His face was burning with embarrassment though he felt really proud about what Flint had said.
Flint leered at him. "So what do I get for showering you with compliments?"
Harry kicked his shin. "Arsehole," he said sullenly and tried to free himself from Flint's embrace, but it was in vain.
"Not even a kiss?" Flint asked, his eyebrows raised. Harry sighed; what did it matter? It was not like he didn't want to. He stood on his tiptoes, using Flint's shoulders to prop himself up to Flint's height. When he felt Flint's warm breath on his lips, he parted them slightly and immediately Flint was on him, plundering his mouth mercilessly, his hands pulling Harry even closer.
Harry moaned, enjoying the feeling of Flint's tongue in his mouth, Flint's hot lips on his own; and then Flint's mouth wandered along his jaw, kissing and nibbling along his throat. Harry let his head fall back, offering himself unto his skilled mouth. With deft fingers, Flint unbuttoned the first buttons of Harry's shirt, exposing Harry's collarbones and then his chest – and at the gust of cool air Harry found his wits again.
"Stop!" he gasped and tried to pull back.
Surprisingly, Flint actually stopped and looked at him with a grin. "Don't like it, Potter?"
"Stop it," Harry repeated and buttoned his shirt up again. "It's not like I don't enjoy, but I don't have time tonight."
"Tomorrow then?" Flint asked, his fingers trailing along Harry's forearm.
"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't think so, I have a lot to do. Preparing for the First Task, I guess."
Flint brushed Harry's hair back behind his ear, an oddly tender gesture. "See that you do, then. I would hate to see you die in a week."
Harry had to smile despite himself; wasn't Flint romantic? Not wishing to see him die was probably almost like a declaration of his love. "Good night then," Harry whispered, removing Flint's hands from his waist – oddly, he felt a bit chilly then.
Flint just nodded and watched him depart, his dark eyes burning into Harry's back as he left the room.
xXx
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! Not overly exciting, I know, but the next chapters will be a lot more exciting, I promise. Please let me know what you think!