Author's Warning: There be dragons here.
Chapter 3
Draco had never looked forward to the train ride to Hogwarts as much as he did at that moment. At Kings Cross, his father had nudged him when they saw a large, shaggy dog jump up and put its front paws on Potter's chest. That's Black, he'd murmured, a malicious smile curling his lips. Wormtail had blustered every scrap of information he could to keep the Dark Lord for ripping him limb from limb. The things I can hold over Potter... He was almost tempted to rub his hands together. He had an arsenal of taunts at the ready. He was ready.
His plans deflated, however, when he and Pansy entered the prefects' carriage and he saw that Potter was absent from the ranks. But he must've been made prefect... His eyes narrowed when he saw Granger and fucking Weasley sitting in the carriage, both glaring right back at him. This makes no sense, he fumed, taking a seat next to Pansy and tuning out the Head Boy and Girl as they started delivering their spiel.
He watched the countryside zip by in a green blur while he fingered the shiny new prefect badge absently, catching the sunlight and annoying Pansy.
"Stop that," she said, squinting as the ray of light shone into her eyes. Draco stopped touching the badge and without looking away from the window.
That summer had slipped by so quickly. There had been a flurry of activity at Malfoy Manor... Mostly Death Eater meetings, during which his mother had strictly forbidden him from even approaching the dining room. One evening, he'd heard the front door open and, unable to contain his curiosity, he'd stepped out of his room to stand at the top of the staircase and he'd felt his blood turn cold when he saw Lord Voldemort sweep into the foyer, a small huddle of groveling followers shadowing him. He didn't even look human—his nose was barely more than two slits in the center of his pale face, his eyes sharp like a snake's. As if sensing Draco's presence, those terrible eyes had flickered to the top of the stairs. Draco's heart skipped a beat when he saw the Dark Lord give him a cold, cruel smile.
"Draco!" his mother had hissed from the circle of dark-robed followers. "Go back to your room and stay there!"
Heart beating painfully fast, he had watched the Dark Lord disappear into the dining room, his trail of simpering devotees following in his wake.
He didn't return to his room. He wished he could cast a Silencing Charm around himself without violating the underage sorcery decree, so he did his best to breathe as quietly as possible as he stood just outside the dining room door, trying to decipher their conversations, which seemed to be mostly hissed insults and dark murmurs. Then—he couldn't believe his luck—he'd actually heard someone burst out laughing: That big oaf? Trying to befriend the giants! There had been muffled laughter. Then: Dumbledore really is desperate! Draco had tiptoed away from the door and, trying not to stumble from the thrill of not having been caught, raced up the stairs.
"Right," Draco said suddenly, leaping to his feet. "Time to patrol."
Pansy rolled her eyes, but Crabbe and Goyle obediently followed, as if incapable of independent thought.
He shoved some first years out of his way as he made his way through the train. Spotting Granger's bushy hair, he rolled open the compartment door.
"What?" Potter was mad.
"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," he smirked. Go on, Potter. Try me. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."
"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."
Potter's stupid little friends laughed.
"Tell me," Draco said, almost tenderly. "How does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Granger shot back.
Ha. "I seem to have touched a nerve. Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."
"Get out!" Granger leapt to her feet.
Draco chuckled and gave Potter one last cold glance before sauntering off, Crabbe and Goyle obediently shadowing him. He heard the compartment door slam shut.
He was considering counting down, but before he even finished the thought, the compartment door had opened again. He turned and smiled.
Potter shut the door behind him, his eyes furiously narrowed, his hands tense from restraining themselves from wrapping themselves around Draco's neck.
Crabbe and Goyle automatically made to move in front of Draco protectively, but he raised his hands to stop them. He blinked slowly and shook his head once before giving Potter a coy smile.
"What was that?" Potter hissed.
"I have no idea what you mean," Draco said, eyes wide with mock innocence.
Potter took a step forward and Draco lifted his hand. "That's close enough, Potter. I'm not sure I want you getting too near, what with you being bent and all-"
"Oh, that's really mature, Malfoy," Potter said. "Taking a dig at me by making up-"
"Is that what I'm doing?" Draco folded his arms. "You're really going to stand there and deny-"
"You can try to start as many rumors as you want; stop changing the s-"
"Except there's nothing I need to start, seeing as you're the one always seeking me out, pushing me against a wall, trying to-"
"That's a lie!"
"Is it?"
Potter seemed to be dumbstruck for a split second. His hand had stopped halfway to Malfoy's neck. Aha.
He and Potter both sensed it at the same time. They looked around—faces pressed against compartment windows, fingers pointing, lips moving inaudibly. Their eyes met again, and Draco gave him the cruelest smile he knew how to make. A smile that almost looked kind.
"I've told you before, Potter," he said silkily. "I don't fancy blokes. And if I did, well... you'd hardly be my type, now, wouldn't you? I dare say I could do much, much better than the likes of you."
"I'll fucking get you for this," Potter muttered, his face reddening.
Draco calmly watched him storm back into his compartment.
He then sent Crabbe and Goyle off on a Cauldron Cake run. He walked quickly back to his compartment, where Pansy sat alone glancing through Witch Weekly. He flicked his wand and the blinds fell across the glass, and Pansy looked up.
"Draco, what... Draco!"
He was standing in front of her, brusquely opening his robes, loosening his belt.
"Quick," he panted. "Just- suck me off- ah-"
"Are you mental?" She was looking past him at the covered windows.
"Pansy, please," he whispered, one hand resting against her face, the other one fumbling with his trouser's buttons. "I'm so hard-"
She gasped, and her eyes filled with mirth. Her eager hands pushed his away and she had his cock in her mouth as if she had Accio'd it there.
He placed one hand against the wall behind her to keep his balance as the train swayed. He closed his eyes and saw Potter's enraged eyes, his quickened breathing. He groaned as Pansy's tongue flicked against the tip of his cock, and he reached down and pulled her head closer, forcing her to take him in deeper.
Her hand – no, Potter's hand, his mind whispered – stroked the length of him, fast. Strong grip.
"Mmh!" Draco felt his body tense for an agonizing second before the release.
"Ugh, Draco," Pansy mumbled. A couple of drops of his come had dribbled down her chin and splattered her school robes.
Instead of apologizing, he just took his wand and mumbled, "Scourgify," before collecting himself, closing his robes around him.
Pansy stared at him, half-amused. "What got into you?"
Author's Notes: A few lines of dialogue borrowed exactly as they appear in HP & the Order of the Phoenix. No copyright infringement intended. Hope you're enjoying reading so far!
