Draco

Fuck.

He saw my Mark.

I knew it'd happen eventually, but….

Merlin, I feel so dirty. Like the Dark Mark has filthed me beyond repair. Like it permanently tainted my soul.

I don't think he's ever seen it before, unless he used that sneaky Cloak to spy on me. I don't want to know what he thinks of it, I don't want to know how he feels about it. I just want to pretend it's not there.

And a big part of me, the part that cares more about what's right than my wants, only wants to go back to when Potter flirted with me outside of my dressing room. If I could go back to then, I would act as cold as possible and ensure Potter got the message: that I wasn't interested.

But I am. Merlin, I so am.

I mean, look at him. He's bloody gorgeous without putting a drop of effort. I, on the other hand, have to rely on clothes and makeup and false confidence just to resemble a fraction of the Malfoy pride I used to have.

It's infuriating to think that Lucius took that, took my boldness. I want it back.

Chang is squirming under my hands, and I wish I didn't touch her. The second I did, it felt wrong. Like it should have been a man's hips I was touching. Her hips were too soft and round and full. I wonder what Potter's hips would feel like… against mine.

Goddamnit.

"Can you…?" Chang whispers, barely moving her black lips.

"What?" I whisper back, a little stiffly. I can't help it; I barely know her, except for the minor fact that she's Potter's ex. I still don't know quite how I feel about that.

"Um… can you move your hands? Sorry," Chang rambles under her breath, so quietly I'm glad to say nobody could have heard it.

"Oh." I flush and reposition my hands to slide into my pockets as nonchalantly as possible, humiliated. "I'm so sorry."

Chang doesn't respond but continues to pose, less awkwardly than before. Much less. My blush fades and my eyes dart around the room, checking to see if anyone notices my flusteredness. I lock eyes with Potter, and he gives me the smallest smirk. I can't mouth 'Fuck off' in fear of it appearing on camera, so I merely glower at him and hope it looks like a sex face to everybody other than Potter. Well, if it's possible to make a look a glare and a sex face at the same time, then that's what I'm going for.

Potter's smirk grows, and he mouths out clearly: You're teasing me.

It feels like more of a curious remark than an accusation, but my skin crawls anyway. It's not all that unpleasant. I don't mouth anything back, but I hold his stare.

Potter's ridiculously green eyes are crinkling at the corners with the size of smirk, and he looks so incredibly smug and self-satisfied, I don't know if I want to punch him or kiss him. I am… demented. Don't stop teasing me, Potter mouths, and at first I think I've lost my lip-reading touch.

But he mouthed it, I saw. 'Don't stop teasing me.' Oh… Merlin. It's no longer What's wrong with me? Now, it's What's wrong with us?

My stomach churns, sweat gathers at the nape of my neck, and my already-tight trousers become even tighter. I look away before the wanker makes me come in my trousers, which is evidently where his suggestive flirting is heading.

"Mr. Malfoy," Melissa says sternly, snapping me out of my (shamefully erotic) daydreams. "Please focus."

I've never allowed myself to get embarrassed by Mess-up Melissa, and I won't start now. "Of course," I say blandly, and turn to the cameras before she can say anything.

My body goes on autopilot, casually posing without the need of my mind. I let my eyes zone out as I gaze at a point just above the camera in the middle, which is where I'd been trained to look. I let myself get lost in my unrealistic imagination, where Potter does more than mindless flirting and provocative smirking. Where I'm not shy, and unafraid to touch him. Unafraid to tell him things I'd never say in reality.

I wonder if he's ever been with a man before. I wonder if he'd know what to do. Merlin, one glance at someone like Potter and you'd know immediately that they were excellent in bed. It could be told from the way they held themselves, with confidence and swagger, and the way they spoke. The way their lips moved; would those lips hiss filth against your skin? The way their hands worked; would those hands leave handprints on your arse?

The answer comes to me quickly: Yes.

I've been with many blokes before. I once landed a threesome with a bartender and a stranger, and there wasn't a time when I left a gay club alone. But those were all temporary. If Potter and I ever… did anything, it would physically pain me if he viewed it as anything but permanent. I'd never be able to let go of Potter. Once you take one bite, you can't stop.

I feel Chang's presence next to me like a reminder of Potter's love life. I've only ever seen him with girls, like the Weaslette and Chang. But surely he wouldn't flirt with me if he never considered me? Surely he thought about having me before flirting with me?

I run our conversation from outside my dressing room through my mind to double-check it was flirting.

Potter: "I wanted to tell you to… to stop looking at me during your shoot."

Me: "Me… looking at you…. Funny, Potter, because it was you staring at me. But do correct me if I'm wrong. Please do."

Potter, while hardening (yes, I noticed): "Stop doing that. Stop teasing me."

Me: "Why? I'll have you know it's very entertaining when you're angry, Potter."

Potter: "I would punch you, but I don't want to mess up your makeup."

"How considerate. This eyeliner is probably more expensive than your shoes."

"What's wrong with my shoes?"

"They're attached to the rest of your body."

"Ha-ha. Glad to see you're the same bastard you've always been."

"I'd say the same for you, but, somehow, you're more of a bastard. Farms must bring out the worst in you, Potter."

"A, it's a ranch, you ignorant prat. B, I am not a bastard. Ask anybody. I'm a decent person."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, O Chosen One."

"Don't call me that."

"Then what should I call you?"

"You could, you know, call me Harry, like everyone else does."

"You don't call me Draco."

"Well, maybe I can start."

"You should do that more often. You look better when you're smiling."

Oh. Definitely flirting. A smile grows on my features, with a touch of smugness. All right then, Potter. You want to flirt with me? I can flirt right back.

I catch Potter's eye again and wait patiently for him to make the first move. He doesn't, grinning curiously at me. I silently thank the fact that Potter is standing noticeably close to the cameras, and lick my lips as seductively as possible. I see Potter's grin falter, his eyes widening in surprise.

I don't stop there.

Like earlier, I flatten my tongue over my bottom lip, baring my teeth and extending my tongue as far as it'll go. The tip brushes my chin. Chang and the rest of the studio thinks I'm posing for the photoshoot, but I can't care less about the photoshoot right now.

Right now, I'm focusing on making Potter as hard as humanly possible.

And, judging by the way he presses his thighs together and bites his lip at me, I can tell I'm succeeding. I love the reaction I'm getting. It means Potter is as aroused as me, but he can't tell like I can. For every photoshoot I do, I wear erection-prone underwear, in case I end up with a hot cameraman. This time, it's a hot breeder.

I curl my tongue back into my mouth and give Potter a small wink before I stop acknowledging him completely and resume staring at the cameras. I know this is frustrating him, because I catch him trying to make eye contact again. I smirk a little to myself. Not happening, Potter.

Soon, Potter will see it's a mistake to tease me.

Because I tease back, and I tease well.