CHAPTER NINE: High on Plumleaf
After the run-in with Gilderoy Lockhart on Wednesday morning, Harry could tell Draco was trying to regain his cool. In NEWT Potions, Harry caught his eye as he entered the classroom. Draco looked away quickly, but he blushed and had to force back a smile. Then when they passed in the halls later that afternoon, Harry grabbed his attention again. Unfortunately it was between classes and the halls were full, so Harry couldn't push Draco bodily against the wall and snog him, but he did brush against the Slytherin boy for a moment, causing Draco's face to flush with a tinge of crimson.
Harry's self-esteem had come roaring back, and though Draco was acting much the same as he did during the first half of the week, Harry knew he'd captivated him. Draco really did want to fuck Harry, and maybe more. Maybe Draco was actually developing feelings, too!
It was time to make an even bolder move. So on Friday morning at breakfast, when Harry saw Draco leave the Great Hall will Crabbe and Goyle, he excused himself from his friends group. "Sorry," he said, realizing he was in the middle of interrupting Hermione's ramblings about Muggle metaphysics and its possible relation to magic. "I gotta catch a snake."
And he half-skipped, half-sprinted after Malfoy, ignoring Hermione's huffy sigh. He caught up with the Slytherin trio just outside the Great Hall, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle as he said, "Malfoy, could I have a word with you?"
Draco looked up at him, a little taken aback at the interruption. "Um… what is it, Potter?"
"I…" Harry stared pointedly at Crabbe and Goyle, trying not to glare at the moronic duo.
"Oh!" Draco said, getting the hint. "Crabbe, Goyle, give us a moment."
"To do what?" Crabbe asked. Neither he nor Goyle made a move to leave.
"Excuse us," Draco hissed. If Harry had the manners not to glare, Draco possessed no such qualms.
"Excuse you?" Goyle said. "What did you do?"
"Go to class!" Draco snapped. "Go ahead without me. I can find my way there—I'm not fucking stupid like you."
The two Slytherins, still not entirely comprehending the insult, shuffled off, and Draco turned to give his undivided attention to Harry. He waited without speaking.
"Draco…" Harry said, trying to still his fast-beating heart. "Draco, I want to see you tonight."
Draco was unnaturally still, as if he was trying hard not to betray his emotions. "You want to see me tonight?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Meet me outside your dorm at midnight?"
"Why?" Draco asked.
"Just meet me there," Harry said firmly, flashing a quick smile. He wanted to keep this simple; besides, he didn't trust his reasoning abilities when he was so turned on by the idea of a midnight meetup with Draco.
In fact, that's how the conversation ended. Draco didn't reply, but he inclined his head just so, and Harry took that as a nod. The Gryffindor bounced on the balls of his feet, flashed Draco a quick smile, and then impulsively leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. And then, blushing a little, he scooted off to class.
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur, though it was a slow, impatient type of blur. Class trickled by like treacle, the teachers' voices drones and their lessons incomprehensible. By the end of the day, Harry honestly couldn't even tell if they had had a quiz or test… at least, not until dinner when Ron was showing off the O he'd gotten on their Transfiguration pop quiz.
"This is my third in a row!" he crowed proudly.
"Another O?" Hermione purred, setting down her goblet to stroke his shoulder. "Looks like somebody's been working hard!"
"Yeah," Ron said, leaning into her touch with a luxurious grin.
"You know what happens to boys who get O's on their quizzes, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ron said throatily, closing his eyes as one of Hermione's hands stroked his ribs while the other tangled its fingers in his ginger hair.
Ginny coughed and clanged her fork against her dish. "Jesus fuck, Ron," she huffed. "Why don't you just pull it out and let her suck it here on the table?" She turned to Luna, Harry, and Neville and shook her head. "Sweet Merlin, I'd rather Snape truss me up naked and violently lick my nipples than continue watching this."
"Eurgh," Neville shuddered. "Ginny, do you really have to? I know it's hyperbole, but damn… that's just disgusting."
Luna stared Ginny down, as if she was actually imagining the picture Ginny had just painted. "You might be wrong, Neville," she disagreed amiably. "I really wouldn't mind if Snape nibbled at Ginny's areolas."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Oof, Luna, don't encourage her."
Then, because Hermione and Ron actually were starting to get slobbery, Harry leaned over, his mouth just inches away from theirs, and said, "You're missing the conversation. Ginny's talking about Snape licking her nipples."
Ron and Hermione broke apart quickly at this intrusion, both glaring at him. "Harry James Potter," Hermione snapped, "I was really starting to get into that! Give me one good reason I shouldn't hex you right now!"
"Because I'm meeting up with Draco tonight," Harry proclaimed proudly. "At midnight. I think tonight's the night!"
"The night you do what?" Ron asked.
The question caught Harry way off guard, because he almost replied, The night I fuck Draco's brains out! But that was all wrong—they didn't need to know how much he was looking forward to that!
"The night… the night I finally seduce Draco and coax his secrets out of him," Harry said, knowing he didn't sound nearly as excited as he felt about his real plans.
"Phew, for a moment there I thought you were actually planning on fucking that bastard," Ron chuckled, his accidental intuition uncanny in its accuracy. Neville and Hermione laughed, too. Ginny giggled, but also blushed and grinned strangely as if she was envisioning it. Luna, once again with her wide-eyed stare and her half-parted lips, was definitely envisioning it.
Harry avoided everyone's gaze and worked quickly to finish his meal. Afterwards, he gave his leave, explaining that he needed to get ready for his seduction tonight.
"But it's not even 8:00 yet!" Ron said. "How could it take you four hours to get ready?"
"It just will!" Harry snapped. "Everything's gotta be perfect." He gave his excuse while standing up and walking away at the same time, knowing he couldn't ramble much longer to fend off their questions. Ron even opened his mouth to continue taking the mickey out of his best friend, but Harry quickened his pace and was soon out of the Great Hall.
As much as he was looking forward to seducing Draco, he was also terribly nervous. Objectively, Harry knew himself to be hot—he worked out, he had muscles, he had deep, soulful green eyes, and he had tousled black hair any man would want to run his fingers through. To top it all off, Harry truly had a good personality. And money. What wasn't to like? Would wouldn't fall for Harry Potter?
None of that could quell his nerves. He might very well have sex for the first time tonight with Draco Malfoy. Aside from growing up with his own parents, or never having to worry about Voldemort, or having his godfather back, or not having had to grow up with the Dursleys, Harry had never wanted anything more. This mattered so much to him, and it shocked him to his core. He really, really wanted to make love to Draco Malfoy.
Not just fuck.
He got ready. He showered. He brushed and flossed his teeth. He put on his best black briefs, then he switched them out for his midnight blue squarecut briefs. He changed his trousers twice and his shirt thrice, ending with a demur, casual sort of outfit that was nevertheless strikingly form-fitting. Black cotton trousers and a slim green t-shirt to bring out his eyes. Artfully messy hair, first mussed up with water and his fingers, but then held together with a last-minute addition of hair gel. The most delicate touch of eyeliner and mascara (which he totally Accio'd from Hermione's dormitory), once again to bring out his eyes. A generous handful of after-dinner mints, chewed and sucked at throughout the course of his primping. And a spritz or three of Monsieur Malkin's Sexbomb cologne.
Then he practiced his moves in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He parted his lips and moistened them with his tongue. He fluttered his eyelids, but not too fast. He unconsciously-but-consciously stroked his chest.
Then one long, deep, extended breath, let out with a whoosh, and he finally felt ready.
So he strode out of his dorm, feeling sexy but nervous, with his head held high. Down the spiral staircase he descended, where he found the Common Room was full of students planning out ways to enjoy their Friday night. According to the clock in the corner, though, it was barely 9:00. He had three hours.
"Goddamn it," Harry muttered, wondering how the hell he could kill three hours. He thought of going back up to his room and getting a homework assignment out of the way, but then Seamus and Dean caught his eye, and they waved Harry over.
"Hiya, Harry!" Seamus said. "Got any plans for tonight yet?"
"Yeah, sorta," Harry muttered.
"Like what?"
Harry shuffled his feet and continued talking like he hadn't been asked the question. "But not until later. What're you all up to?"
Seamus and Dean cast a quick look around the room and then motioned Harry to follow them into a corner near the spiral staircase leading to the boy's dorm. Then Seamus pulled a pottery jar out of his schoolbag and lifted the lid. "Plumleaf!" Seamus whispered excitedly.
"Plumleaf?" Harry said, scratching his head in confusion.
"It's a fine powder that's extracted from the leaf of the Dirigible plum." All three of the boys whipped around to see that these words had come from Hermione. Seamus and Dean jumped in fright, and Seamus tried to hastily shove the jar back in his bag.
Hermione laughed at them. "Calm down, Seamus. I may be a prefect, but I'm not against responsible drug use. Tell me the side effects and the correct dosage, and I won't confiscate it."
Seamus shuffled his feet and said, "Well… the Dirigible plum is said to elevate the frame of mind so as to enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary. While this has been treated as a myth, a group of potion makers based out of Knockturn Alley recently discovered that the leaf of the plum could be dried and ground into powder, forming a potent psychotropic drug. For an effective dose, moisten your finger and take a single generous dab and rub it along the bottom of your tongue. There are no physical side effects, and it's impossible to overdose on, but the mental side effects are strong. It produces feelings of euphoria and confidence. The comedown is a bit of a bummer, though."
"I'm impressed," Hermione said, and she clearly meant it. "And I won't confiscate it… but you'll have to share with me and Ron."
"I was just about to offer some," Seamus said, grinning widely.
So Hermione waved Ron over to join them, then motioned at Ginny, who was sitting by the fire with Luna, and they all traipsed up to the 6th Year's boy's dormitory to take the plumleaf. There they were joined by Neville, who had just come back from the library and was tossing his schoolbooks into his trunk.
They all sat cross-legged in a circle on Ron's bed (due to Hermione's frequent visits, it was the cleanest, and its silencing charm hadn't fully worn off since the year began). Seamus demonstrated by going first and taking a generous dab of the plumleaf. He then placed his powder-coated finger under his tongue, clamped his lips around it, and took a deep breath. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled in a long, happy sigh.
"Me next!" Dean crowed, bouncing up and down on the bed. So Seamus handed him the pot full of plumleaf, and Dean took his own generous fingerful.
"Ron and Hermione," Luna said as Dean handed the pot over to Ginny, "there's a huge stain on this duvet. Which one of you is this from?" She leaned down to sniff it.
"Luna!" Ginny yelped. "It's bad enough Ron and I shared my mom's vagina. I'd rather not hear anything about the others he's been in." She shook her head and took a dainty dab of the white powder.
"Take more than that," Seamus advised. Ginny was more than happy to comply.
"It smells like a mix of the two of them," Luna continued, her cheek still pressed to the bedsheets. Ginny nearly dropped the jar, but Ron steadied her hand just in time and took it away from her. He and Hermione both blushed, but it looked like they were enjoying Ginny's embarrassment too much to stop the conversation. Luna looked up at the two of them and declared, "I must say, you two smell quite nice."
"If you want," Hermione said primly, "I can show you a douching charm I use that doesn't upset the delicate pH balance down there."
"Maybe," Luna said vaguely, suddenly a little quieter. She switched from being cross-legged to sitting on her knees, her thighs pressed together.
"I'd like to learn that charm," Ginny said.
"Hey?" Harry said as Ron passed the jar to Hermione. "I'm, uh, honored that you feel comfortable enough with us to discuss your, uh….. but could you not?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You fought Voldemort five times. Don't tell me you have a delicate constitution!" She took an even more generous dab of powder than Seamus or Dean and confidently stuck her finger into her mouth.
"No no, I don't have a delicate constitution," Harry argued swiftly. "I'm just, uh, concerned about how everyone else is taking it."
"Mate," Ron laughed, "I'm want to know everything I can about Hermione's vagina. I can't let these silencing charms go to waste."
"Yeah," Seamus said, his eyes glazing over a little, "I don't mind hearing about Ron and Hermione's sex life, either."
"Dude, you're not even high yet!" Harry scoffed. "That's disgusting!"
Hermione passed the jar to Neville. "I vigorously disagree," she said. "Sex is natural and beautiful, and we shouldn't be ashamed to talk about it. Though the details shouldn't be shared with everyone, mind!" She leveled a penetrating stare at Seamus, but then softened up and added, "Maybe when we're all a little less sober."
Neville took a dab and passed the jar to Harry.
"You're last, mate," Dean said. "Take a big hit for all of us."
So Harry moistened his index finger and dipped it into the jar, pressing the pad of his fingerprint into the white powder. It was surprisingly soft, yet with an edge to it, as if it once had been a lamb's ear that couldn't decide if it wanted to become a cactus. He lifted his finger from the jar, and as he passed it to his mouth it glinted with a load of powder even larger than Hermione's.
Then he placed his finger underneath his tongue and let the plumleaf absorb into his saliva. It tasted extraordinarily sweet, but not sickly so. It was like a rich plum tart made with heavy whipping cream. His green eyes bugged open and rolled around in his head, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out a moan of pleasure. "Goddamn!" he breathed. "Did none of you bother to mention how good this tastes?"
"Does it?" Seamus said, getting excited. "Does it taste like a rich plum tart made with heavy whipping cream?"
Harry nodded, impressed by how spot-on the Irish boy was.
"Wow," Dean breathed. "I'm so jealous!"
"What?" Harry said. "Doesn't it taste the same for the rest of you?"
"No," Neville said. "It just tasted like a cheap Pixy Stix to me."
"When taken as a psychotropic drug," Hermione explained, "the plumleaf has a much stronger effect on certain witches and wizards than it does on others. Since plumleaf is still such a new extract, there's no proper explanation, but potions masters generally agree it has something to do with the different types of magic that flow through each of us. For those it affects stronger than other, the powder tastes far richer and sweeter, almost as if you're eating the plum itself."
"Oh," Harry said. "Sound intense. Good thing I'm brave."
"You'll be fine," Seamus said. "In fact, you'll be more than fine—you'll feel fucking fantastic! However strongly you feel it, though, remember what I said: this drug is impossible to overdose on. Just embrace it."
"Okay," Harry said cautiously. "But I don't feel anything yet."
"Of course you don't," Seamus said. "It takes about 30 minutes to hit you."
So they all sat tight for a little while. Luna dished up a bunch of Ravenclaw gossip for the benefit of the rest of them, and she rated every girl in her house on a scale of how easy or hard it would be to get in their pants. Seamus, Dean, and Neville hung on to her every word.
Hermione got bored and reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a book. Ginny cocked her head and said, "Is that the book I lent you?"
Hermione held it up, and indeed it was: The Science of Ancient Celtic Rituals: A Metaphysical Journey.
"Good, isn't it?" Ginny said.
"Surprisingly astute," Hermione agreed, "considering Muggles' usual ideas of magic. So good, in fact, that I actually went to Professor Burbage to propose that we do a Muggle Studies field trip to see the author speak on the subject."
"Oh?" Ginny said, perking up.
"Don't get your hopes up," Hermione sighed. "She lives in America so we couldn't take the students to see her."
"So bring her here."
"We'd have to spend money to fly her out," Hermione said, "and she's weirdly protective of her dad and won't travel anywhere without him. So Professor Burbage proposed a budget to fly the two of them out to Britain and set up a conference somewhere in London, but Dumbledore nixed it."
They went back to talking about the book itself, and Harry followed the conversation off and on as he waited to get high. It was a sort of complicated topic about the possibility that ancient Celtic magic might be a real phenomenon, able to be studied using the scientific method. Harry was about to open his mouth and ask if they could integrate it into the research that Dumbledore had assigned them, but then he suddenly felt a twinge rush through his body.
He looked up and breathed, "Hey guys, did you feel that?"
"It's been hitting me for the past five minutes," Seamus said excitedly. "But it's just the beginning!"
"I'm going to tell my dad about this," Luna said. "The dirigible plum is already his favorite fruit, but he's never tried plumleaf before!"
"Dude, he'd love it," Dean said fervently.
"Yeah, he eats a dirigible plum every day," Luna said. "He goes outside and picks one from our plum tree every morning."
"Maybe he could make plumleaf himself!" Sean said, getting even more excited. "Luna, this could be an excellent business model for your dad!"
"He could use the extra money," Luna agreed. "He's been trying to hire a new graphic designer for The Quibbler for ages."
"What, does the current designer lay out too many of the pages right side up?" Hermione said with a wry grin.
"I mean, that's simplifying things," Luna said, "but pretty much."
Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her conversation with Ginny. It got way too complicated for Harry to follow, so he sat back for a moment and let the plumleaf take over his system.
The first twinge had been pretty delightful—a warm rush that started in his head and pulsed through his entire body, ending at his extremities. But the ones that followed afterwards hit him harder and harder. Like contractions, they started a couple minutes apart, but then became closer together, and soon he was experiencing them every half-minute on the dot. His body warmed up. His brain warmed up. His face lit up, and his eyes lit up.
Still clean from the shower, still dressed in his form-fitting outfit, and still subtly made up, Harry suddenly felt extremely sexy. He ran his hands down his torso, from throat to waistline, and let out a little sigh.
"Heya," he said suddenly, bouncing from his cross-legged position to sitting on his knees. "Ron, Hermione. How do I look?"
He knew he was interrupting Hermione and Ginny's conversation, but he felt it was somehow all right. They would like his conversation better, anyway.
"Good enough to make me want to work out with you," Ron said honestly. "But I love sleeping in too much."
"No, I mean," Harry said, "If you were Draco, would you want to fuck me? Would you go weak in the knees? Would you want to grind your ass against my cock?"
Ginny looked Harry up and down and said, "Honestly? I'd do that to you now, whether or not I was Draco."
Hermione nodded in agreement, her brown eyes dilated way wider than Harry had seen before. "If you were a stranger instead of our best friend," she said, "Ron and I would probably invite you into our bed for a threesome."
Somewhere in the back of Harry's head he sensed that this should be an uncomfortable thing to hear, but then he felt another spasm rush through his body, and he took the compliment with aplomb. "Thanks, Hermione!" he said brightly.
Seamus dove headfirst into the conversation, figuratively and almost literally, too. "Am I enough of a stranger for you to extend that invitation?" he asked eagerly. "I'm really good at using my tongue!"
Far from being grossed out by this intrusion, Ron and Hermione sized him up. "You're a bit bro-ish for my tastes," Ron said honestly. "I like 'em sleek and femme. Anyway, I have only one hole for you to lick."
"That's okay, I do buttholes, too," Seamus said. "If you trimmed real good, I'd give your hole one minute of face-time for every four minutes of face-time I gave Hermione… Hmm, every five minutes, let's say."
Again, Harry sensed that the conversation was weird, but he also didn't care. He was feeling warmer and warmer by the second, and he was of the mind that he could do anything or talk about anything.
But for the moment he just listened. As Seamus tried to rationally haggle a threesome out of an unusually open-minded Ron and Hermione, Dean turned to Ginny. "Hey, Ginny," he said with no trace of nervousness, "we should have sex."
"Oh Dean," Ginny said, swatting at his shoulder with a giggle. "You know we only said we were together to gross Ron out."
"True," Dean said, "but that doesn't mean I wouldn't still like to fuck you."
Ginny blushed a little, but mostly she looked proud as she ran a confident hand over her breast. "Why thank you, Dean," she said. "But I also heard that you have a mighty large dick, and I worry if it might tear me apart."
"Who told you I have a large dick?" Dean said, his chest puffing up with pride.
"Lavender," Ginny replied. "She said you damn near split her apart. She was walking bow-legged for a week."
"Oh," Dean said. "Yeah, when I pulled out, there was some blood on my dick."
"That's because she was on her period," Ginny explained.
"Phew," Dean said. "I thought I'd torn something down there, and I was feeling guilty because the blood turned me on so much." He put a pensive hand to his chin and added, "I guess I have a period fetish."
"Oh, I can help you out with that," Ginny said excitedly. "I know the cycles of all the girls in the Gryffindor dormitory. Within a month of school starting, each year syncs up with itself. The Fifth Year girls start their periods next week, the Sixth Year strikes like clockwork on the 15th of every month, and the Seventh Year girls hit their periods every 29 days, the next day being on the 29th of October."
"So that means they're still having their periods now?" Dean squealed, bouncing up and down in the bed.
"Yeah, but they're halfway through already," Ginny said. "Their flow is chunky and dark now, and Katie Bell's has pretty much stopped.
"Oh," Dean said, deflating a little. "And what about the girls from the other houses?"
"I don't know about them, sorry," Ginny said with an apologetic shrug. "We could team up with Luna and try to find out."
But before they could do that, Seamus announced loudly, "Hey guys, guess what I got?"
"What, are you done trying to coax your way into a threesome with my best friends?" Harry asked.
"We're going to continue negotiations at a later date," Seamus said optimistically, while Ron and Hermione laughed benevolently at him. "But enough of that now."
He pulled open the curtains and skipped over to the foot of his bed, where he threw open his trunk and pulled out a fleshy blob. When Harry looked closer, he realized it was Madame Pomfrey's hyperrealistic vagina model. "I knicked this from the hospital wing!"
"Wicked!" Dean cheered. "Now we can practice our moves!"
"Eww, those models revolted me," Harry said honestly. "Have fun."
"Can—can you make it get its period?" Dean asked, reaching out to prod the vagina.
"I can try," Seamus said, poking at it with his wand. The vagina pulsated and became engorged. Its labia parted like petals, revealing its clitoris.
"Whenever did you go to Madame Pomfrey for the sex talk?" Hermione asked Harry, quite curious.
"Last year," Harry lied. "I was thinking of having sex with Cho."
"Were you?" Ron asked, far more astute than he normally was. "You never mentioned it. I didn't realize you two had gotten that serious."
"I was just thinking ahead," Harry said evasively, "in case we actually did end up doing it."
"But you don't think ahead that much," Hermione countered. "At least, not with sex. No offense or anything. I can see you going to Madame Pomfrey to learn sex spells if you absolutely knew you were about to have sex, but before then, I don't think it would cross your mind."
"Well, it did," Harry said uncomfortably.
He was relieved when Dean let out another cheer. "You did it!" he cried, and indeed he was right: the vagina model was now bleeding heavily, splattering on the floor and coating his and Seamus's hands with slick, red fluid. "Damn, this is sexy! Do you mind if I have a go at it first?"
"Sure thing!" Seamus said. "Just leave the butthole for me. I wanna try out my anal moves."
"Awesome." Dean took the drippy, messy model onto his bed and drew the curtains. "See you all in a bit!" came his muffled cry, followed by: "Silencio!"
"Thank fuck he remembered a Silencing charm," Ron sighed.
"It's common courtesy," Hermione agreed. "We use it without fail."
"And yet somehow you forget to use one when you're fucking talking about it all the time!" Ginny sighed.
"Sex is natural and beautiful," Hermione repeated. "I see no reason to censor myself."
"Well, and no offense," Ginny said, "I think I'ma creep over to Neville's bed just in case you two start waxing lyrical again."
She hopped off of Ron's bed and over to Neville's, and Luna followed after her. Neville and Harry were going to stay with Ron and Hermione, but then Harry noticed that Ron's fingers were playing with the hem of Hermione's shirt. Hermione giggled into Ron's neck and leaned into his fingers.
So Harry rolled his eyes and motioned to Neville for them to jump off the bed, and no sooner than they had done so, Ron drew the curtains.
The plumleaf was really hitting Harry now. His chest felt light as air, and his whole body filled with a warm, dry heat—fierce but extraordinarily pleasant. He primped at his hair for half a second and thought about meeting Draco later that night. His heart leapt: he couldn't wait.
He sat cross-legged on Neville's bed, silently anticipating his midnight tryst. Ginny was continuing her complicated conversation about the metaphysics of magic. Neville and Luna listened closely, though it seemed Luna was less paying attention to the words and more intently staring at Ginny.
A few minutes later, Dean burst forth from his bed curtains, a wide grin plastered across his face. "That was fucking intense!" he gushed, holding out the vagina model.
"Really?" Seamus said excitedly. "I've gotta try that sometime. But right now I really wanna do anal."
"Have a go at it, then!" Dean encouraged him. He held out the model, and Seamus took it eagerly.
"Thanks," Seamus said. "Lemme just…" he turned the model vagina-down and gave it a vigorous shake, accompanied by a hefty smack on the rear end. "...Empty this bitch out!"
A large glob of Dean's blood-clotted semen spurted through the labia and fell to the floor with a sickening plop.
"Sweet fucking Merlin!" Neville wailed. "Do you have to get that all over our carpet?"
"What?" Seamus said. "It's not like we have to clean it up." He gave the ass another slap, and the vagina let forth another blob, this time more blood than semen.
"Yuck," Neville said emphatically. "Yuck, yuck, yuck!"
Seamus turned the model right side up again and placed his fingers on either side of the labia so that he could draw it part and peer inside. "Looks like your baby batter is mostly gone," he said to Dean. "Just… a little… more." He turned the model upside down and poked at it with his wand. A last little bit of blood and semen zipped out, and the simulated period flow slowed to a drip. One more poke, and the crusted blood disappeared from the vagina, leaving it clean and moist.
"I," Neville said, wrinkling his nose, "am going on a walk. Harry, care to join me?"
"Sure," Harry said.
"Want us to join you?" Ginny asked.
"Nah, you two stay here," Neville said. "Mess around on my bed or something."
"Okay," Luna agreed easily.
"Are you sure you don't want us to come along?" Ginny asked.
"You two stay here," Neville repeated. "It's fine… I'm calling in the favor you owe me for that hangover globe. Stay here and enjoy yourselves."
"Fair enough," Ginny said. "Have a fun walk. And Luna?" She drew the curtains around Neville's bed, blocking out the sight of Seamus plumping up the model's ass. "We don't need to see all that."
"Good call," Luna said.
They sat in silence for a moment, the two of them cross-legged on Neville's golden bedsheets, their toes almost tickling each other. Luna played with the crimson trim near Neville's pillow and said, "So what were you saying about magic?"
"Well," Ginny said, "In the book Hermione and I were reading, Alma del Mar says—(Alma del Mar is the author, by the way)—"
"Yes," Luna said, indicating the aside was already a given.
"Anyway, Alma del Mar focuses specifically on ancient Celtic rituals, which have over the years gained more of a prominence in Muggle culture than our modern use of magic. Del Mar speculates that these magical rituals were more than just myths and legends passed down from generation to generation: she wonders if they actually happened, and she explores the idea that there may be a scientific explanation to it all."
"But she's wrong," Luna said, "it is just magic."
"That got me thinking, though," Ginny said. "What if magic is a physically explainable phenomenon? What if Muggles discovered it and started practicing it? They can already fly. They invented computers, which are damn near close to magic in my book."
"That's pretty deep," Luna whispered, her eyes wide.
"Sorry," Ginny said, suddenly self-conscious. "This is probably way too much for when we're high."
"No, it's okay," Luna said. "I like listening to you talk."
"Yeah?" Ginny said.
"Yeah," Luna nodded. "And maybe I'm feeling confident right now because of the plumleaf, or maybe I'm just drawing inspiration from the female crumple-horned snorkacks, but I just wanna say I really like listening to you talk. And looking at you. Also, you were a very good kisser at the party the other week."
"Thanks, you too," Ginny said. Normally this conversation would have her hunching her shoulders a little bit, feeling shy and uncomfortable, but the plumleaf was having its effect on her, too. She remained poised and open, her breasts thrust forward and her gaze trained on Luna's.
"I want to try it again," Luna said honestly. "Don't worry, we don't have to do nasal like the lesbian snorkacks. But I wanna kiss."
"Yeah, me too," Ginny said. "I'm not gay or anything, but you're an uncommonly good kisser."
"I'm not gay, either," Luna said, though not as defensively as Ginny. "I'm just… well, I'm really quite attracted to you."
She leaned forward and took Ginny's hands. And then the two of them kissed. Slowly and tentatively at first, feeling out each other's mouths, and not used to the plumpness of another woman's lips. Then they deepened the kiss, allowing their tongues to come into play. Ginny reached up hand and stroked Luna's cheek. Luna trembled at her touch and steadied herself by wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulder and pulling her closer.
"This feels good," Ginny whispered into her ear.
"Yeah," Luna whispered back, running her hands along Ginny's back.
"You can feel my boobs, too," Ginny said encouragingly.
Luna giggled shyly. "I want to," she admittedly, "but, well… I feel bad, because I don't want you to feel mine. I… I feel self-conscious about them."
"That's okay," Ginny said. "I want you to feel me up because you'd enjoy it, not because I'm trying to feel you up in exchange."
Luna blushed and smiled. "That's… I really like… you're a really great…"
Ginny giggled and drew her in for another kiss. Luna melted into the redhead's arms. And then, after a little bit, she let her hands wander. First along Ginny's ribs, then just underneath the armpit. Then she dared let her hand caress the slope of Ginny's sweet breasts. As modest as they were in size, they were ample on her tiny frame. They were plump, yet firm to the touch, and they responded when Luna ran her hands over them.
Ginny responded, too. She broke away from Luna just long enough to let out a little moan, and then she reconnected their kiss, eagerly and insistently.
Luna wondered if it was just the plumleaf that was making Ginny enjoy this so much. Maybe they were both just high.
If she had bothered to find out more about the drug's effects from Seamus, though, she would have known this was not the case. Plumleaf didn't create new feelings. It just removed inhibitions. It set free what was already there.
Harry and Neville left the boy's dormitory together, but they didn't stop at the Common Room. Neville led them through the portrait hole and out into the halls of Hogwarts. The sun had set already, and the only light was the moonlight and the torchlight. Whatever they didn't touch was shadows.
"Needed a break from all that?" Harry said. They began walking down the halls, indiscriminate of the turns they took and only really paying attention to their surroundings for the sake of keeping an ear out for Filch.
"Yeah," Neville replied with a smile. "Seamus can get way perverted when he's high, and he always enables Dean to be the same."
"And Ron and Hermione, good God," Harry said. "It's like they're attached by the pissers."
"And I'm not above doing a little matchmaking with Luna and Ginny," Neville added, "whatever their deal is. Not sure if they just really like fooling around, or if there's something more there."
"Just a lot going on," Harry nodded. "I'm glad to get away from it."
"Mmmhm," Neville agreed. "But that's not the only reason I took you on a walk."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're going to meet up with Malfoy tonight," Neville said. "You're going to seduce him."
"Yeah, I am," Harry said. "I have a really good feeling. Tonight's the night!"
"Tonight's the night you… seduce him? Discover his motives for starting the Gay Straight Alliance?"
"Spot on."
Neville tilted his head for a second and flashed Harry a twisted sort of smile. "Yeah. But you're not going to stop there. I think you're going to fuck him, too."
Hearing it said out loud thrilled Harry to no end, particularly because he was still experiencing the plumleaf spasms every half-minute. Each one left him feeling a little warmer and more excited than before. But he also had enough of a presence of mind to deny Neville's claim. "No, I'm not going to go that far."
"It's okay if you do," Neville said with a shrug. "Just because you despise the git doesn't mean you need to be above a good, strong hate fuck."
"It's not like that…" Harry said, even though it hadstarted out exactly like that.
"Really, if that's what it is, I swear I won't tell anyone," Neville promised. "Once I jerked off to the thought of fucking Bellatrix Lestrange ragged before strangling her with my bare hands."
"Oh," Harry said, a little taken aback. "Okay, then. Thanks for sharing."
"I probably wouldn't if I wasn't on the plumleaf," Neville said calmly, "but I've always wanted to tell someone."
"But I dated Cho Chang," Harry said, knowing he couldn't say with a straight face that he wasn't attracted to guys.
"Hate fucking doesn't have to do with sexuality, or with being attracted to someone," Neville reasonably. "I think Bellatrix Lestrange is fucking hideous. I wouldn't ever make love to her. But it's about the control, and it's about the domination. I just fantasize about wrecking her hole. I fantasize about making her orgasm before I kill her."
"Okay, but I don't want to kill Draco," Harry said.
"So it's not the exact same situation," Neville conceded. "All I'm trying to say is, I understand and I don't judge."
"Um, thanks," Harry said.
"Well, that, and also… how high are you right now?"
"Pretty high," Harry answered. "I feel very warm, very happy. I feel so ready to seduce Draco."
"And to fuck him?"
Harry flashed a shy grin. "Yeah," he finally admittedly. "I'ma fuck him good!"
"But you still have your wits about you?" Neville asked with concern. "This is a big deal. This isn't just about the hate fuck. You also need to seduce him. That's the main mission."
"Yeah, I'm still thinking straight," Harry promised. "I'm high, but I'm not, like, bonkers. I'm not far gone or anything."
"Good," Neville. "Then I'm gonna set you loose now."
"But what about you?" Harry asked as Neville made to step away into the shadows.
"I'm going to the Hufflepuff dormitory," Neville said. "Eloise's acne has cleared up, and her chest really filled out, so I'm gonna try to sleep with her tonight. I figured, hell: this plumleaf has my confidence way up. I might as well take advantage of it!"
Then he tripped off, leaving Harry alone.
The warm, wonderful spasms still hadn't stopped. His high slowly continued to build, and with it his courage and euphoria. He was not nervous. He was ready.
He took the pathway to the Slytherin dormitory. He wasn't particularly careful about being quiet or looking out for Filch, but he didn't care. He felt too sure in himself. This night was going to go well.
Soon he stood in front of the stone wall that led to the Slytherin dormitory, and that's when he realized: he didn't know the password. And it was only 11:00. He would have to wait a full hour before Draco came out to meet him.
Then, suddenly and without warning, a massive spasm hit Harry, hard and fast. Incredibly warm and boundless joy shot from his head to his heart, then out to every end of his body. He shuddered and whimpered and felt so unbearably happy he almost started crying.
His whole body was on fire, but in no sort of painful way. It was a beautiful fire, a pleasant, tingly fire.
He put his right hand to his forearm and found the mere touch to be meltingly sensual. He envisioned Draco in his mind and moaned out loud. And then, for a full two minutes, he was locked in place as his body tried to handle the warm, smooth, sexual delirium that descended upon him.
No more spasms hit him. The plumleaf had peaked. But sweet fucking Merlin, had it peaked! And it didn't go away. The fire burned within him. The desire filled his chest. His audacity would not be tamed: he needed to get into the Slytherin dormitory now!
Draco was ready long before the planned midnight tryst. Like Harry, he showered early in the evening, but unlike Harry he felt completely self-assured in picking out his ensemble. He chose a silk button-down shirt, a baby blue pastel with horizontal purple stripes across the chest to broaden his frame. His pants were a simple black cotton, not unlike the ones Harry had chosen. And his hair was perfectly straight and slicked back. He'd been generous with the cologne, but not overly so; nevertheless, an air of lavender and musk hovered around him wherever he went.
At 11:00, he was sat atop the covers of his bed reading a book, keeping his mind off things until it was time to meet Harry outside the dormitory.
Ten minutes past the hour, though, his bed curtains parted unexpectedly, and a voice whispered, "Draco?" The person climbed in through a gap in the curtains near the foot of the bed.
"Who is it?" Draco asked. "Harry?"
He was completely taken aback, but there the Gryffindor boy was, perched at the foot of his bed in a tight green t-shirt and fitted black pants, his hair messed up and his lips parted and the gaze burning brightly in his deep green eyes.
"Hiya, Draco," Harry said. He sat on his knees, his posture completely assured and his chest thrown forward. He did not break his gaze. But he also did not make a move towards Draco.
"How did you get in?" Draco breathed.
"I just asked the stone wall," Harry said. "I said, Please let me in. I need to see Draco. And it opened up and let me in."
Draco frowned. "Surely that's not right. The entrance doesn't open just because you ask it to."
"Well, I did ask in Parseltongue," Harry added as an afterthought.
"Oh," Draco said. "I forgot you spoke that. I didn't realize that would work." If he were to be honest, it now turned him on to no end that Harry spoke the language of snakes. He wondered if he could convince Harry to do it while they were fucking.
"Well, it did," Harry said, "and now I'm here."
"Unfashionably early, I might add," Draco said with a grin.
"Couldn't wait any longer," Harry admitted, returning the grin. "I've really been looking forward to this."
"You have?"
"Yes, Draco," Harry said. He did not elaborate, but his eyes told the story. He moved towards Draco and then stopped, waiting to see the Slytherin's reaction. All Draco did was shift in bed, opening up his legs ever so slightly.
So Harry move towards him at a crawl, still so self-assured, and still not breaking his gaze. Draco still did not speak, but once again opened his legs a little wider. As Harry drew level with him, he ran his hands briefly along Draco's shins, from the ankles to just below the knees, and then they were face to face, Harry's lips hovering inches from Draco's.
"I've wanted this for a long time," Harry whispered.
"To kiss me?" Draco asked, his voice just above a whisper, but still soft. "You've already done that."
"More than that," Harry corrected him. He was sat on his knees again, his legs keeping Draco's propped open. "I've wanted much, much more than that."
Draco blushed and smiled. He cast a quick glance at the curtains, making sure they were closed, and then he reached for his wand next to him. "Silencio," he whispered, and the curtains glowed briefly for a second. "Go on," he said coyly.
Harry leaned forward and placed a brief, heartfelt kiss on Draco's lips. Then he broke away and leaned into Draco's ear.
"All year I've wanted you. I've wanted to run my hands over you. I've wanted to feel every inch of your body, from your cute blond head to your toes. I've wanted to run my hands along your chest and down your back. I've wanted to feel the slope of your sweet, firm ass in my hands. I've wanted to kiss you: on the lips, on the neck, along the chest and down your stomach.
"I've wanted to grab you around the waist, roughly, insistently, to kiss you, to bite you. To fuck you."
For a moment Harry allowed himself to fall silent. Draco wanted to speak, but he didn't. He wanted more to hear what Harry had to say. The boy's words were hypnotic. His naked lust was obvious and deeply irresistible. And his eyes, sweet Merlin, his eyes! How green that fire! How deeply they pierced him!
Harry crossed his arms and grasped the hem of his green t-shirt. Then, in a single move, long and languid, he peeled it off of him. Draco watched, his mouth falling open, as the thin fabric slipped up Harry's tight abs and over the curve of his chest, catching for the briefest of moments on his nipples, before clearing his neck and coming off over his mess of jet black hair.
Then Harry was kissing him again, this time deeper and more passionately. Their lips bruised together and their tongues wrapped around one another. Harry's hands grasped Draco's ribs near the chest, and Draco's own fingers reached out to stroke the bare skin just below Harry's throat.
They sunk back into the pillows, and Harry's hands followed the contours of Draco's body, running down to his waistline and taking a hold of his hips. Draco responded to Harry's touch with a moan, and he arched his back so his chest pressed against Harry's naked torso.
He could already feel Harry's fierce erection pressing against his upper thigh. He whimpered, longing for Harry to fuck him. And Harry, hearing the whimper, ground against him, breaking apart their kiss just long enough for him to grin at the Slytherin boy.
"This is what I've wanted," Harry whispered, kissing Draco between sentences. "More than anything, for you to want it back. For you to want me to fuck you."
His words were so fierce, but so quiet. Like he was afraid to say them, but he'd longed to set them free. Less hesitant was his body. His hands did not keep themselves from holding Draco tightly against him. His lips did not hesitate to leave Draco's lips and nibble at his neck. His bare chest did not wish to unglue itself from Draco. And when it did, it was only so that Harry's fingers could slip in to undo the buttons on Draco's shirt.
Then it was bare skin against bare skin, lips against lips, and then Harry's mouth against the smooth, pale skin at the top of Draco's chest. Harry let go of Draco's sides so that their fingers could entwine amongst the pillows, but his mouth did not stop in its downward trajectory. His tongue did not cease to trace its path down Draco's stomach, and his soft moans could not be contained by Draco's sweet, milky skin.
Then Draco's name fluttered on Harry's lips, just above Draco's waistline. "Draco," Harry whispered, the words hot against the skin between Draco's belt and stomach. "Draco."
"Harry," Draco whispered back.
His hands hooked around Draco's waistline and tracing the bones along his hips, Harry lifted his face back up to Draco's for another deep kiss.
"Draco," Harry said, "Draco. I want what you want."
His hands left Draco's waistline and wandered across the boy's bare chest, then back down to the waistline against, where they settled along the curves of the boy's ass.
"Draco? I really care about you."
They looked each other in the eyes, full on, and then suddenly Draco realized.
Harry's eyes were enormous. The pupils were massive, dwarfed only by the bright green irises that seemed to swallow the whites.
"Harry?" Draco whispered. "Are you okay?"
Harry's face broke apart as if he were laughing, but no sound came out. Only an unarmed grin and a twinkle in his saucer-wide eyes. "Never better, Draco."
The uncanny thing was, never better was no expression. Harry actually meant it.
"Harry?" Draco said, this time no longer whispering. "Are you high?"
Harry tucked his face into his shoulder bashfully, flashing a grin at Draco through his bare chest. "C'mon, Draco," he said. "Am I high? I'm Harry, that's who I am."
Draco scooched himself up so that he was in a proper sitting position. He backed away so that their faces were apart, even though Harry's hands still ran along his chest and stomach. "You're high, Harry," he said, no longer a question. "You're really, really high."
Harry giggled and leaned down to kiss Draco's chest. "Maybe a little," he conceded.
"Maybe a lot," Draco said, gently tugging Harry's face away from his left nipple. "Harry, you're in no condition to be… to be doing this."
"Sssh," Harry said. "Draco, I really want this."
Draco believed Harry was telling the truth. Draco believed Harry wanted to sleep with him. Draco believed Harry would do this very same thing if he were sober. And holy sweet Merlin, did Draco want to do the same and more!
But not like this.
He didn't know why he cared, and he didn't know why he'd sprouted this moral compass, but he couldn't let their first time come when Harry couldn't properly remember it.
Collecting himself, and ignoring his own raging erection, Draco began buttoning his shirt again.
"What're you doing?" Harry asked.
"You're unbelievably high," Draco replied.
Harry paused for a moment, processing Draco's words. Then he nodded and said, "Yes. Yes, Draco, I am unbelievably high. But that's not a bad thing. I feel wonderful."
"I'm sure you do," Draco said, "but that's not the point."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"The point is you're too high to know what you're doing."
"I disagree," Harry disagreed. "This is exactly what I want to be doing. Being high just makes me want to do it more. It frees me. It lets me say what I really mean. It lets me do what I really mean."
He took a hold of Draco's hands and looked the Slytherin boy straight in the eye. "This is no game for me, Draco," he said clearly. "I really want this. I really want for you to want this."
Both at once, Draco felt guilty and terrified. Not terrified at Harry—in fact, the complete opposite. For once, Harry didn't scare him at all. What scared him was that he knew Harry was telling the truth. It was no longer a game. Harry truly wanted him. Harry truly cared about this. To Harry, this was no seduction plot. To Harry, this was real.
Even scarier than that, though, was that Draco realized this and did not see this as a moment to take advantage of the boy. Draco felt guilty for his own seduction plot. He knew he had to go through with it still, but he couldn't do it, not like this. He couldn't so easily take advantage of a boy so out of his mind. Especially not a boy as good as Harry.
Draco sighed, his whole body shuddering. Still hard, he steeled his willpower and found Harry's t-shirt. Despite the boy's protests, he worked the green fabric back over the boy's messy hair, down his neck, along his broad chest, catching on the nipples again, and down his washboard abs.
"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Harry," Draco said plainly.
"You aren't, though!" Harry insisted. "I'll do the fucking."
"Don't think, Harry," Draco said, "that just because I'd bottom doesn't mean I wouldn't be taking advantage of you."
Making sure his own shirt was completely buttoned, he drew back the curtains and got out of bed, taking Harry firmly by the arm. "You're going back to your own dorm now," he said firmly. "Come to me when you're sober."
Then he marched Harry out of the Slytherin Sixth Year dorm, through the Common Room, and out through the stone wall entrance.
He kissed the dark-haired boy once, briefly but fiercely, his face sad and his chest falling. "You're a good guy, Harry," he said with a flash of Gryffindor honesty.
Then he retreated to his dormitory, disappointed and confused and scared.
Harry wanted to do more than fuck him. Harry was actually, truly falling for him. He didn't know what to do with this. It would be one thing if he didn't care—if he still hated Harry and wanted to hurt him.
But he didn't.
If he were to be honest with himself, he was falling, too.
