Disclaimer: You know the drill. JK made them..
Draco woke early, as always. He had never been one to sleep the day away, not when there were
far more productive ways he could be spending his time. Especially this year; yes, this year
held a special kind of promise. His father had taught him that knowledge was power - Malfoy
smirked at the thought. What Lucius Malfoy would say, if he knew how right he was... and in
what way.
Reaching into the drawer beside his bed, Draco withdrew a perfect rectangle of crisp,
unblemished parchment, and a long feather quill.
Ten O'Clock. Room of Requirement.
There was no call for anything further - without signing it, he rolled the note into a thin
scroll, attaching it to the leg of his owl with efficient, practices movements and waved a
hand at the creature, dismissing it. He trusted the bird would know where to go; Draco almost
respected the creatures' intuition. Almost. A smirk slid across his face as he pictured
Harry's reaction to the note, and as usual, his ability to predict Potter's flustered worry
was right on par - he spotted the Gyffindor instantly upon entrance to the great hall. The
other boy was, predictably, staring at Draco like a deer caught in oncoming headlights;
frightened, and transfixed. Trying not to look too smug, Draco sat, helping himself to bread
and honey. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he took the pot, slipping it into the
pocket of his robes, carefully upright so the sticky substance wouldn't spill.
The day seemed to drag on for an age, but eventually, the evening came. He had been careful
not to give Potter any indication of what was coming; had barely even thrown the boy a glance
the whole day. The prickling sensation he'd felt more than once on the back of his neck let
him know that his nonchalonce was having exactly the intended effect, and a knot of
anticipation had wound itself tight in his belly. After five years, he had the boy where he
wanted him. Finally.
He arrived early, to ensure that things were in order. Of course, the room was even more
intuitive than his owl - no sooner than he'd stepped inside it had laid out his fantasy
before him. A regal, four-poster bed stood in the centre of the spacious room, bedecked in
deep green inlaid with subtle silver. A large wooden chest stood at its base - Draco didn't
need to open it to know it held everything he might want to make use of tonight. Across from
the bed, suspended from the opposite wall, a pair of silver manacles hung open, glimmering in
the dim light created by several softly burning torches mounted on the stone. The wooden
floor was bare, though, Draco noted as he slipped off his shoes, it was not cold to the
touch; rather comfortably warm against his skin. Not that it mattered. Things would be
heating up in here soon, anyway.
A hesitant knock at the door told him his prey had arrived; he'd known Potter wouldn't keep
him waiting. The boy seemed almost eager for this, though he would never admit it - not
unless Draco had a firm hold on his cock, at any rate. He turned, that signature smirk in
place, drinking in the wide-eyed shock shining from those emerald eyes as Harry took in his
surroundings.
"The.. I got your note..." he managed, his voice small. Where was the bravado now, from the
boy who'd fought the Dark Lord on multiple occasions, and lived! A thrill of satisfaction
went through the Slytherin again as he realised he was about to conquor what even HE could
not.
"Obviously." The blonde raised an eyebrow, the cool facade firmly in place.
"Do I really need to tell you what to do now?"
Swallowing, Harry shook his head, and reached for his robes, pulling them over his head and
looking around uncertainly, as though unsure where to put the bundle he now held in his
hands.
"The floor will do. And the rest."
Potter paused, as though he might object. Draco wondered whether the Golden Boy thought he
might force him to strip and leave him again, but Potter wouldn't get off so easy this time.
He made to speak again, but before he was forced to repeat his command, something like
resignation flickered into the other boys eyes, and his robes fell with a soft thud to the
floor as he started on the rest of his clothing. While he was distracted with his task,
Draco's eyes were left free to wander over the Gryffindors' body, fit and muscled from his
years of Quidditch and world-changing battles. When his cock was let free, Draco felt his own
stir, though he showed no more reaction than the twitch of an eyebrow.
"Good. Now, on your knees."
Harry looked a little shocked, but complied, his wide, innocent eyes on Draco's face,
uncertain.
"Hands on your knees. Spread your legs, a little wider. Wider. Don't look at the floor, look
at me."
Draco's voice had taken on a commanding tone as he moved toward his nemesis, Harry's eyes
widening with each step he took closer.
"Stay still, now, Potter."
Slowly, Draco began to remove his robes.
-
Harry gulped, his breath a hard lump in his throat. If Ron and Hermione could see him now...
he flushed at the thought. He was naked, on his knees, legs spread before his second-greatest
enemy. The wooden floor was warm against his skin, that was some small mercy, at least. Oh
Merlin, Malfoy was coming closer, he couldn't look...
"What did I say? Eyes on me, Potter."
Harry forced his gaze upwards to find himself staring almost directly at the bulge in Draco's
robes. The Slytherin was only inches from him, and... Oh, Merlin... he was sliding out of his
clothes, piece by piece. His robes he placed carefully on the floor beside Harry's, and now
he was peeling off the thin singlet he wore beneath, revealing that perfect, smooth chest.
Oh, Harry ached to reach up, to slide his fingers down the other boys taught stomach...
"I can tell what you're thinking, Potter."
Harry flushed again, wanting to stare down. He forced himself to look upward, past the boys
chest to his silver eyes, which were fixed knowingly on Harry's own.
"You may not touch me. Only my trousers. Take them off."
Harry gulped again, "You can't be..."
"Do I sound like I'm joking, Potter? Or do you need to be punished again? Take them off.
Now."
With trembling fingers, Harry reached for the waistband of Malfoys thin trousers, sliding
them down over those angular hips, down...
"Oh, Merlin," Harry spoke aloud this time. Draco had neglected to wear pants today, it
seemed, and Harry was faced directly with Malfoy's impressive length. He couldn't help the
tiny thrill he felt at the fact that it was semi-erect, which was less than he could say for
himself. The proximity to Malfoy's naked body had had an undeniable effect on the boy who
lived, and his own cock was standing fully at attention, throbbing slightly as he stared up
at his long-time fantasy.
"Mmm, it is nice, isn't it. If I do say so myself," Malfoy leered, reaching down to lazily
stroke himself, his fingers bringing the tip of his cock barely millimetres from Harry's
nose. His prick hardened further at his own touch, growing, and Harry's lips parted, saliva
pooling in his mouth. Merlin, he wanted to taste the boy...
"In my robes, in the pocket." Harry paused, wondering what horror Malfoy had in store for
him, his eyes widening again as he withdrew the pot of honey.
"Give it to me."
He handed it over, goosebumps breaking out along his spine as their fingers brushed. hen
Malfoy tilted the small pot, and the golden substance inside began to drip onto his no
fully-erect prick Harry's mouth dropped open. He was going to ask him to...
But there was no asking. In one, fluid motion Draco threw the empty pot aside, where it
shattered on the stone wall, and tangled his fingers through Harry's dark hair, pushing
Harry's open mouth forcibly around his sweet, sticky cock. Harry gagged as Malfoy's tip
battered his tonsils, the thick honey dripping into his throat as the boy thrusted against
his face. He spluttered, swallowed, and took it, closing his lips around the boys shaft, his
tongue sliding along its' underside, scooping up the sweet coating and letting him taste
Malfoy beneath. Unconsciously, he lifted his hands, gripping Draco's hips and yanking him
forwards in the rythm Malfoy had created, hungrily trying to open his mouth wider, let the
other boy in deeper... as Malfoy let out a long, unwilling moan Harry's own cock throbbed
harder, yearning for release. He made to reach down, but before his hand had moved an inch
Malfoy's free one was on it, and the boy was smirking, shaking his head.
"Oh no, Potter. Only one of us is going to cum tonight."
And he WAS going to, Harry could feel it. Even in his inexperience with other men, he knew
enough about himself to recognise the pulse that ran through Draco's cock, once, twice;
Malfoy's free hand joined the other on the back of Harry's head, holding him steady as he
exploded. The hot liquid hit the back of Harry's throat in a way he could only describe as
magic, and he swallowed the urge to gag, along with Draco's thick seed.
Panting, Malfoy pushed the Boy Who Lived off him, for once having lost some of his perfect
composure.
"G... good, Potter. Good boy. Now back to your room."
"Malfoy.. I," Harry paused, unsure what to say. Surely that had meant... something? Draco had
liked it just as much as he had, he had felt it, he knew it! Surely this changed things...
But when the Slytherin met his gaze again, his eyes were cold.
"I said back to your room, Potter. I have nothing to say to you, nor you to me. Leave."
His cock painfully hard, Harry grabbed his clothes, hurrying to dress before the tears that
prickled his eyelids, threatening, made their way out.
As he reached the door, he turned again to cast a longing look at the Slytherin boy, but
Draco had his back to him, pulling on his own clothes. Nothing more would be said tonight.
Maybe it really didn't mean anything to him at all, Harry thought sadly as he climbed into
bed, reaching below his blankets to try to relieve the painful erection that was the only
physical evidence of what had transpired that evening. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine
it was Draco's fingers wrapped tight around him... but though he eventually found release, he
could not even imagine what it would feel like for a touch from Malfoy to be tender, loving.
All he could feel was that cold, hard grip as Malfoy forced him to admit how he felt...
