14. Evil Games
Sunday opened bright and fair. Draco Malfoy, the infamous Slytherin seeker, marched towards the Quidditch pitch with rapid steps. Eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, he looked vicious and infuriated. There was an aura of sparkling hatred around him. The soft, blonde locks waved easily in the wind, encircling the pale and icy face with angelical tenderness, whereas the steely, grey eyes could have killed with one look only. The green Quidditch robes fit his muscular form elegantly, however enhancing also his capability of delivering serious physical damage. Several younger students, mostly girls, jumped frightened away from his course, terrified of his murderous air. They could almost hear the seeker hiss and fizz like a horned viper. It was time for the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
The rest of the Slytherin team followed their captain close behind. They were acting like a herd of pissed-off Hydras, expressions nearly as resentful as Malfoy's. Their green robes rustled heatedly in the wind, making the group look like a rapidly approaching tide of killing venom. The beaters, Bole and Warrington, had received extra instructions that morning to crush the head of a certain Ravenclaw chaser, Terry Boot. They did not know the reason, but did not ask it either; they were only too happy to carry out such a mischievous mission. The air was full of excited rumble from the stands.
Just as the Slytherin team reached the door of their tactics room, Malfoy felt a harsh grab on the back of his collar, which demanded him aside. Irritated and highly poisonous, he turned to look at the insolent bastard who dared to touch his high-quality shirt with hopefully-not mud-blooded fingers. And he came across with the scowling green eyes of Harry Potter.
"I want a word, Malfoy," the Gryffindor boy smiled wickedly, looking deeply in the surprised, grey eyes of the Slytherin.
Draco yanked himself off of Potter's grasp and straightened his robes. Without breaking the eye contact with Harry, he addressed his team. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a minute."
From the corners of their eyes, both boys could see the knowing smirks of the players, except for the gobsmacked Malcolm Baddock. When they were left alone, Malfoy sharpened his gaze and folded his arms defiantly.
"So, what do you want, Potter? I thought I wouldn't need to tell you that we're not about to become best friends or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I still hate you."
Harry only smiled that wicked smile. "No, that's not why I'm here. I'm well aware that nobody can become friends with you at any level, Malfoy. Because, in addition to the fact that you're one sufferable frigging asshole in general, you're also emotionally handicapped. You wouldn't know a friendly word if it came waltzing down the Divination tower stairs wearing Pansy's pink evening dress. And even if you somehow happened to even suspect that it could be something else than a sneering word, you'd probably jump out of the tower window, scared to death that you might encounter the feeling of liking something."
Draco scowled. "I would not jump out of the window. That would look just stupid."
Harry shook his head and gave a little laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I know. Always so refined, Malfoy."
"Yeah, unlike you and your hair!" Draco actually almost returned the smile. "And why are you wearing those awful glasses again?"
"Hermione thought I looked weird without them."
"You look weird with them. Take them off."
But before Harry could move a finger, Draco had already flung them away with a neat gesture, and shoved them in Harry's chest pocket. Sighing contentedly, he returned his sharp eyes at Harry.
"Now, what's the reason you're here? This kind of public encounters can be very… dangerous."
"And you think our other encounters are less dangerous?" Harry purred seductively, leaning closer to Draco.
Draco didn't retreat but his voice came a bit shaky. "Potter, you must be mad. Glance around and look where we are."
Luckily, the field around the pitch was nearly empty, let alone two Ravenclaw students hurrying towards the already-full stands.
"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry whispered, his breaths caressing Malfoy's cheek.
"Mmh… No, Potter, I'm not scared. But the game starts in ten minutes. I don't think I have the time to shag you right now."
"Did I ask you to?" Harry's voice was like honeyed mercury. "No… I came to give you… an aide memoire."
Then, without further explanations, Harry claimed Draco's lips forcefully, pressing the Slytherin hard against himself. He opened his way to Draco's mouth with an eager tongue, making the other boy mewl with sudden pleasure. Draco couldn't do anything but surrender, since Harry locked his arms behind his back and pushed him against the green-canvassed wall with his full body. But, after only ten seconds, the raven-haired lion retreated, as quickly as he had started it all.
He smiled at Malfoy's ruffled hair and moist lips, and laughed the confused expression of the silvery eyes. "Good luck for the game, babe. Hope you lose."
Tickling Draco slightly from under the chin, Harry Potter turned on his heel and walked coldly away.
Harry rose up the stairs to the Gryffindor stand, replacing the glasses over his nose. He was feeling a bit odd about the day's game, since the two opponent seekers would be the only two persons who had ever captured a bit of his heart: Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy. Harry twisted his mouth cheerfully when thinking about the irony of the situation, especially when Lavender Brown would be sitting but five meters from him, and Terry Boot would be playing as the Ravenclaw chaser.
"Hey, Harry!" greeted Hermione, smiling like seven suns at Ron's side. "We were almost worried that you'd be late."
"Hey 'Mione. Ron, Dean, Neville, Seamus." Harry nodded to everyone. "Lavender."
The blonde girl didn't smile or nod back, only icily glared at him, raising her pretty nose up towards the sky. Harry shrugged and turned away, noticing that she was waving a little Slytherin flag between her knees. Harry almost shook his head with disbelief when seeing how childish Lavender was. Rolling his eyes, he took out his omnioculars and sat next to Seamus Finnigan.
"Brought your omnioculars, Harry?" asked the Irish boy, leaning closer to take a better look of them. "Those are really cool."
"Yeah. They come in handy, you know, when I intend to take an extra good look at Malfoy," Harry replied casually.
"Sure you do, after what happened last Sunday," Seamus understood. "You must follow his every movement very closely."
"That's what I plan to do," Harry seriously stated, however smiling inwardly.
"He's a strategy shifter," Seamus continued, wanting to show some expertise in Quidditch, because his dearest wish was to become a beater the following year.
"I know he's a strategy shifter, Seamus. I've played against him five and half years!"
"Of course," Seamus said hastily. "You must know his moves very well."
"Hmmh, not so very well, actually. At least not all his moves. But then again, I happen to know he's tailored a completely unique strategy when it comes to playing with me," Harry continued. Then he grinned at the double meaning of his sentence.
"Suppose he does. You are, after all, the only one to give him some real rush of blood and adrenaline."
Harry tried to suffocate a flush that was trying to creep on his cheekbones, and snorted.
"The game begins!" informed Neville. "Go Ravenclaw!"
Draco Malfoy walked over to the pitch with his team, still somewhat dazed after Potter's heated attack. He tried to bark his mind back to the normal tracks, back to the game. And, he tried his best to forget about the gorgeous Gryffindor boy who happened to make his stomach twinge in a new, annoying, very un-Malfoyish way.
Slowly, the whistles and shouts from the stands hit his reality, making him recollect his usual, arrogant expression. Elegantly he steered his team in the middle of the grass field and shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain and seeker, Cho Chang. Even more elegantly, he cast a ready-to-kill glance at Terry Boot who was squirming in the background, looking like somebody had just shoved an entire broomstick up his arse.
Madam Hooch started the game after first reminding that she wanted a nice, clean game. Her words were mostly targeted on the Slytherins, who immediately turned their faces completely innocent-looking. The Snitch was released. The Bludgers were released. And finally, the Quaffle was out.
Malfoy kicked off in the air as noiselessly as a snowy owl. Without wasting time, he exchanged meaningful looks with Warrington and Bole, who immediately went after Terry Boot. Then he searched Cho Chang in his view. She was flying across the southern end of the pitch, already keenly seeking for the Snitch.
This should be an easy game. Chang's not been so good lately. Not after last spring, really. But that's nothing to complain about, really, is it?
The next moment, Malfoy was granted with the sight of a harsh Bludger hitting Terry Boot on the shoulder, most likely breaking bones.
Good job, Warrington! That's just what I ordered…
Draco circled gracefully around the crying Ravenclaw chaser and gave him a wicked smile, reminding him of his dreadful mistake of messing up with the Heir of the ever-feared Malfoy family. Then Draco retreated rapidly, out of the way of a second Bludger that hit Terry straight on the stomach.
"Slytherin plays unfair!" shouted Lee Jordan, with his sonorous-enhanced voice. "They're trying to eliminate Boot from the game!"
The stands whistled and booed. Raising a silvery eyebrow at the crowds, Malfoy allowed a trickle of smile caress the corner of his mouth. He knew that at least one raven-haired Gryffindor understood.
"The game's been going only for two minutes and Boot is already out!" informed Lee Jordan. "However, the show must go on! No time-outs! And Baddock steals the Quaffle!"
Malfoy was satisfied with the situation. Now that the main purpose of the game had been reached, he lazily thought of going after the Snitch. Yawning, he plunged a few meters downwards, glancing over the pitch. And then he saw it. The Golden Snitch. And it was coming directly towards him, flying with a hurried speed.
"What the…?"
Draco stretched out his hand and caught the glimmering orb, easily wrapping his leather-covered fingers around it. The time of miracles clearly wasn't over. For the first time in his life, he'd caught the spluttering ball without even chasing it. It had smashed like a neatly targeted baseball directly in his mitt.
"We did manage to break you with Potter, didn't we?" Draco asked, glaring at the Snitch suspiciously and poking it with a finger. Then he raised both of its wings in turn, like a doctor, however finding no real damage.
"Draco Malfoy has caught the Snitch. Again," Lee Jordan's half-disappointed voice echoed around the pitch. "Slytherin wins Ravenclaw with one hundred and fifty points."
Malfoy shrugged and held out the Snitch for everybody to see. He was still slightly amazed about how easy the game had eventually been. But Slytherin was leading the house championship, and that was all that mattered.
Lee Jordan's voice continued. "Also, today's game has been the shortest in Hogwarts' history: two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Malfoy makes a new record."
Draco allowed himself to smile. He plunged his Firebolt downwards, and his team members formed a notorious, V-shaped league behind him. Ah, the finesse of it all… But after all, it was a common fact that the Slytherin team was nice to look at.
Because the Quidditch game had been so short, it meant that there were two hours of free time before the lunch. Hermione and Ron decided to go for a romantic walk about the lakeside. They looked at each other like two immensely love-struck pigeons before exiting the common room, and Harry whimpered a silent 'ew'. But then, Harry started to wonder if he and Draco would ever look like that. So much in love… Harry shook the idea off rapidly, considering it repulsive. Loveliness just wouldn't suit the two of them at all. For Harry and Draco, it had to be pure passion, not roses and poems.
Harry decided he would never allow himself fall in love with Malfoy, not under any circumstances. Besides, Harry didn't even really know what real love felt like; a love which wasn't platonic. He hadn't been in love with Cho, obviously. It had been only a teenage crush. But real love… Would it be like wondering hand in hand into the sunset for a lifetime of pure bliss and eternal harmony? Harry grimaced at the thought. He had got used to much different treatment, and it was late for him to want anything fluffy anymore. And Draco Malfoy definitely would not give him anything considered either fluffy or lovable. Shaking his head, Harry turned to write a letter to his confidant, Remus Lupin.
Dear Remus,
Sorry I haven't written in such a long time. There's been a lot going on in my mind.
Here Harry stopped the writing. What to tell the werewolf? 'Hey, I've been busy with exploring my sexuality and having wild animal sex with Draco Malfoy.' Er… Not quite the information Lupin would want to receive. No. It was better to keep the letter formal, no matter how much Harry wanted to tell somebody what was really going on. He smoothed his lips with the feather of the quill and continued writing.
You know, just some ordinary teenage stuff. School and snogging. The Halloween was really fun, there was this masquerade and all, and I got very drunk. You should've seen my face in the morning. But I guess you can imagine.
Well, enough of that. How are you doing? Are you still here in Scotland? Nobody really tells me anything, but I've understood that you are a leading member of the Auror team that is searching the northern islands for any dark military movements. Just… Be careful. Voldemort isn't any Muggle cartoon overlord. Sadly, I can't tell you anything about the Dark Lord. My scar hasn't been hurting that much, if not a little weak twinge every now and then.
I'm looking forward to seeing you before the winter. If you have time, you could visit me here after the exam week.
~Harry
Harry folded the letter and tied it with a red ribbon. Hedwig was already waiting to deliver it.
There was an exceptionally weird lunch waiting for the students in the Great Hall that day. Large bowls of dark brown rye pudding and sickeningly green pea soup, plates of black blood sausage and raw salmon, and vases of cold Baltic herring were filling the tables. Also the traditional pumpkin juice was replaced with cans of some piss-looking liquid called mead. Loud protesting could be heard from every table, since the day's menu wasn't exactly inviting. Harry amusedly noticed how Malfoy pushed his plate far away, looking at it as if it would've been some highly contaminating object.
"What's this all supposed to mean?" huffed Ron, poking the dead little phlegmatic herring on his plate. "Are we honestly expected to eat this?"
"This is the traditional menu of the Durmstrang Institute," informed Hermione, sounding proud. "Today we celebrate the school's 500th birthday, and Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to give us some intercultural experience by allowing us to taste the specialities of our neighbour academy."
"And I always wondered how Viktor Krum looked so sour. No miracle, if he's been eating this stuff all his life…" muttered Ron.
"Don't be so prejudiced, darling," Hermione laughed. "I, for one, am very excited about this opportunity to get to know other gastronomic delicacies than egg and beans."
Harry laughed. "Alright, Hermione, get on with it, then."
Raising her chin proudly, Hermione gathered a spoonful of rye pudding and placed it between her teeth. Harry and Ron watched at her keenly, waiting for some reaction.
They were granted with Hermione spitting the poo-looking mass out of her mouth, looking extremely ill.
"So much of the intercultural gastronomic experiences, then," Ron guffawed at his girlfriend, giving her a handkerchief.
"Hey, it's the mail," noticed Harry, raising his eyes towards the ceiling where dozens of owls soared through the air towards the tables.
The hall immediately cheered up, the students reaching to catch the letters and packets their owls dropped in their laps. Harry wasn't surprised that Hedwig wasn't among the other birds, since he'd send her away for Lupin justs an hour ago. Instead, a shining grey eagle owl landed on his plate, spreading its massive wings around Harry's face before gaining the poise. Then it raised its other foot, where a cream-coloured envelope was attached.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" cried Ron, leaning back in his chair. "That is Malfoy's owl!"
The eagle owl turned its sharp eyes towards the redhead and snapped its peak threateningly. Ron gulped.
"Well, it seems like Malfoy's taught it well. The bird's as insolent as he himself," Harry grinned and began to detach the envelope from the bird's leg.
"Don't touch it! Don't open it!" yelped Hermione.
Now the whole Gryffindor table, as well as the other tables, were curiously looking at Harry and the eagle owl. Harry took a quick glance at Malfoy and saw the Slytherin look very confused and angry.
"Don't worry, Hermione, it's not from Malfoy," he said, and let the bird put its leg down. "Somebody's just joking."
"How can you know?" asked Colin Creevey, who'd come to take a picture of the unusual event. "What if the letter's hexed?"
"Look, why would Draco Malfoy send me a hexed letter, in the middle of a bright sunny day, with his own damned owl, the Great Hall full of teachers and students witnessing the whole occasion, and looking like he'd eaten a rotten cucumber? No. Somebody's just borrowed his owl."
The eagle owl spread its enormous wings again and shot in the air, a nice piece of fresh herring in its peak.
"Alright, then who did send it to you?" asked Seamus, trying to peer over the table at the letter in Harry's hand.
Harry was sure the whole table suspected it to be a love-letter from Malfoy. "If you don't mind, guys, I'd like to read it first on my own. Colin, would you please return to your seat?"
The photographer obeyed, however keeping still a keen eye on his idol, like did the other students in the hall. Harry took the envelope closer to his chest, carefully breaking the signet and opening it. He tried to cover the letter as best as he could when peering inside the envelope.
One look only and he was flushed from ears to toes.
Oh, shit… This can't be true… Good Lord…
Holding the envelope ajar, Harry had a full view over one certain moving photograph of himself and Draco Malfoy.
Gracious Merlin… It looks… It looks… Oh, fuck…
Harry goggled at the picture in a daze. He had no idea who'd taken it, since the Slytherin dungeon had been very shadowy, not forgetting that he'd been very drunk. However, he was now holding in his hands a picture where he was kissing Draco Malfoy. Kissing? Not nearly. It looked more like as if Malfoy would have been the prey of a lion that'd been without food about a thousand years.
Harry saw himself thrusting a hand in Malfoys delicate locks, pulling the boy greedily against his mouth. He saw Malfoy look surprised but eventually enthralled, almost surrendered. He saw their tongues touching in mutual passion, twining into a devoted, French kiss.
"Well? What does it say, Harry?" Ron asked, curiosity oozing from his voice.
Harry jumped in the air with fright, grasping the letter tightly against his heart. "Erm. Wait just a minute, Ron."
Harry had seen a piece of parchment attached to the back of the photograph, and now he pulled it out.
~This was the most beautiful thing we've ever seen. Thank you, Harry!~
Blaise, Montague, Justin, Wayne, Etre, Lisa, Tracey, Mary-Ann, Pansy, Crabbe, Su, Millicent, Goyle, Warrington, Bole…
"Well? Tell us already!" Hermione squealed, touching Harry's forearm across the table. "You look like you've received a love-letter from Malfoy after all!"
"Ummgh," Harry swallowed, hastily pocketing the parchment and the envelope. "It wasn't from anyone special…"
"Yeah right!" cried Seamus, almost jumping from his seat. "Bet it was from Malfoy!"
"Actually, it really was not," Harry flushed. "It was, ahem, a thank-you letter from, um, someone to whom I, er, gave a gift last Halloween."
Ron's eyes flashed with a sudden idea. "It's from the Someone Else, isn't it?" he whispered to Harry's ear.
Harry decided it was the easiest way to get rid of the subject by agreeing with Ron. Therefore, he nodded to his friend, and asked him to keep it quiet. Ron gave him a friendly punch on the ribs and grinned widely.
"It was from a secret admirer," he informed the fellow Gryffindors. "Let's not tease Harry about it."
And surely, before anybody could say a thing more, Harry leaped over the bench and escaped the Great Hall.
Sunday turned shadowy and the night approached. Draco Malfoy strode towards the Owelry, wanting to send his father, Lucius, a reply. He'd made it very short; it wasn't the Malfoy style to blabber and digress.
Father,
I expect you all to arrive on Thursday afternoon.
I have arranged a free weekend for Hailie's birthday.
Draco
Walking up the last steps, Draco pushed the heavy door open. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Then he stepped inside, careful not to make any noise to disturb the owls.
The Owelry was a huge attic room, the ceiling high above Draco's head. Dozens of rafters encircled the colossal space at different levels, bending with the weight of the sleeping owls. However, most of the birds were now waking up, getting ready for their nightly hunting trips. The smell in the room was nearly unbearable for Draco, whose nose was as delicate as his Wizard Armani shoes.
"Nocens, come here," Draco commanded with a smooth voice.
A silvery eagle owl immediately descended from one of the highest balks, landing on Draco's shoulder. Draco smiled at it lovingly when it gently bit his ear.
"Don't do that, Nocens. Father would not like it if he saw," he purred at the massive bird, smoothing the shimmering feathers on its back. "So… How did you like Harry Potter?"
The eagle owl gave a screech, ruffling its neck feathers. Draco laughed.
"Scary, that one, isn't he? Didn't fear you at all."
Draco took out the letter and attached it to Nocens' ankle.
"Watch your talons, darling, you're quite ruining my cloak. Now, get this message to my father immediately."
Giving one last stroke over the eagle owl's silky back, he sent the bird out into the night.
"How sweet, Malfoy. You're not as cold-hearted as I thought, after all."
Draco spun around, meeting Harry Potter's smiling figure at the doorway. He sighed with relief and annoyance.
"Potter? What the fuck are you doing up here?"
"Hmm… I thought I should show you what your dear Nocens delivered me today."
Draco scowled at the Gryffindor, remembering the awkward situation in the Great Hall. "Who was it? Who borrowed him?"
"Um, I really can't tell you. They were so many."
Raising his dark grey eyebrows, Draco walked over to Harry, closing the Owelry door behind. "Well, let's not hear the story in this stinking bedroom of birds, Potter. I'd rather like a stroll outside on the roof. Care to join?"
"On the roof?" Harry asked curiously.
"No, on Snape's ruddy desk, of course! Are you coming or not? I'd hate it if somebody saw us talking this civilly to each other."
"Let alone me fucking the living daylights out of you, as I plan to do pretty soon," muttered Harry, smirking devilishly.
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing of consequence," Harry played innocent. "Please, lead the way, Malfoy."
Draco guided Harry along an aisle that ran in line with the Owelry. They seemed to be heading towards a dead end, but Harry didn't want to point it out. Instead, he followed Draco silently, until they were in front of a huge, old-looking mirror. Draco smirked at Harry, and raised his hand to arrange one wild lock of white hair, before stepping trough the silvery surface. His curiosity growing, Harry followed suit.
"Whee! a secret passageway that isn't on the Marauder's Map," the Gryffindor was impressed.
"Excuse me?" Draco turned to look at Harry as if he'd been speaking plain gibberish. "What's the Marauder's Map?"
Harry gave him an affectionate stroke over the pale cheek, where the wound of Terry Boot's ring was still visible under the eye. Draco flinched with the sudden, gentle touch, and Harry leered at him lopsidedly.
"Perhaps I'll explain it to you some day, Malfoy, if you behave yourself."
Draco shrugged and then sharpened his eyes. "Potter, why did you put the glasses on again? I told you I don't like them."
Lazily, Harry took them off once again that day, and allowed Draco to repair his eyesight.
"Much better," Draco mumbled. Then he cleared his throat and stepped further away from the mirror-portrait, under the bright sky that spread above the roof. Elegantly, he balanced on the black pantiles. "So… What did Nocens bring you?"
Harry fumbled for the envelope in his pocket and handed it to Draco. "See for yourself."
While Draco began to open the mysterious message, Harry wandered closer to one of the castle's chimneys and leaned his back against it. Vaguely he mused why he'd never before visited the roof, since it was both so beautiful and peaceful here.
"Holy SHIT!"
Harry turned to look at Draco, who was now frantically squeezing the photograph, eyes widened with shock.
"Yes, that's exactly how I wanted to react when I first saw it. But I was in the Great Hall, so the situation didn't quite allow."
Draco shifted his pearly eyes at Harry, making Harry's heart shiver. "You did a fucking great job keeping this down, Potter."
Harry flushed. "Um, thanks. I guess."
Wanting to escape Draco's hypnotizing eyes, Harry began to traipse along the ridge of the roof, balancing on the tiles and admiring the marvellous nightly view. A sudden gust of wind made his already straight-out-of-bed –looking coiffure tousle even more, but he didn't care. He put his hands in his pockets and closed his lids against the shimmering moon. He didn't know that Draco was watching him very intently.
"Can I have this picture, Potter?"
Harry slowly opened his lids and let the huge, silvery crescent blind him momentarily. Then he knelt down and turned his head towards the Slytherin, gazing at him sexily amidst the black locks that fell over his eyes.
"No, you can't. It's very inspiring, and I'd hate not to have it myself," he grinned.
Draco grinned back. "Well then, can I at least have you?"
"Hmm. I was thinking that I might have you."
"Oh really?" Draco looked playful. "And what makes you think that you're the one who leads this game?"
"I don't think, Malfoy. I know I lead this game," Harry said, in a strangely self-conscious manner.
"May I remind you that it was I who had you yesterday?" Draco stated slyly. "Not the other way around."
"Only because I wanted it so. But I had you first, on Halloween, and that makes me the dominant one."
"Halloween was pure cunning on my part! Don't expect such tender handling in future, Potter!"
"And what would you know about tender handling, you twat? You don't know anything about it, and I'm not going to give you anything like it. I want you rough, Malfoy."
"Just wait, Potter! You'll be moaning my name the minute I lay my fingers on you."
"Oh yeah? Well I will make you scream 'Draco Malfoy is Harry Potter's own little submissive slut' before you even have the time to open my zipper."
"Me? Submissive? Never!" Draco roared. "Besides, I don't scream!"
"Well, we'll just have to see about that!" Harry snarled seductively, preparing to receive Malfoy's attack.
"Get ready to groan in ecstasy, Potter," Draco purred, and fierily jumped the Gryffindor.
Harry received Malfoy with delight, capturing the edible Slytherin in his embrace and sliding his arms around the boy's waist. Then he grabbed Draco's belt and hauled him easily over and under his own weight. He kicked Draco's legs apart and pressed the Slytherin against the pantiles with his groin.
"Mmm… You make me so horny when you're angry, Malfoy," Harry said huskily, attacking the smooth skin under Malfoy's jaw with his mouth.
"Grrr, get off me, Potter!" Draco hissed, pressing his nails in the skin of Harry's waist, making the Gryffindor retreat with painful tickling. Then he sucked Harry's lower lip between his sharp teeth and rolled over him, keeping Harry's head down by pulling the jet curls.
However, Harry was taking none of it and slid his hands over Draco's ass, under the trouser canvas, and squeezed. Draco murmured something inexplicable and kissed Harry like a hyena, still not letting Potter take the upper hand.
"How do you like this, then, Malfoy?" Harry spoke into the Slytherin's mouth and slid his finger between the buttocks, pressing it sharply down.
Malfoy winced with surprise and Harry got his chance to nudge him on his back. Rapidly, Harry went to sit on Malfoy's stomach and pinned him tightly between his thighs. Locking Draco's wrists with one hand above the boy's head, Harry used the other to rip open the smooth, white shirt.
"Don't look at me like that, Malfoy," he devilishly smiled. "I know you like this."
"I never… Mmmf!"
Harry claimed Draco's mouth hungrily, forcing him to answer his warm and wet kiss. Roughly, he used his free hand to open and pull Draco's trousers half way down. Draco wriggled like a little snake, wanting to get on top at any cost, however getting more and more tangled with Harry.
"Say it, Malfoy! You're Harry's own little slut!"
"The fuck I am!"
Harry began to give teasing kisses over Draco's torso, circling the soft skin with the tip of his tongue, making the wet trails feel cold in the nightly air. Draco immediately stopped writhing and, despite himself, gave a suffocated moan when Harry's tongue eventually touched the light hairs under his navel.
"I said you'd like this…" Harry mumbled and trailed his chaffing fingers along the waistline of Draco's boxers. "Want some more?"
"Uh-huh…" Draco moaned, however keenly shaking his head in protest.
"Then say it! Draco Malfoy is Harry Potter's own little submissive slut."
"Fuck you, Potter!"
Harry gently tugged the boxers down and moved to lie next to Draco. Then he let his fingers wander very mischievously over Draco's cock, giving it light touches, and then retreating suddenly and entirely. Looking nonchalant, he rose up to his knees and patted Malfoy's head as if he'd been a five-year-old boy.
"So sorry, Malfoy. Good night, then."
Harry leaped up and turned his back on Malfoy, starting to walk away.
"Wha…? Potter! Come back here!" Draco shouted in frustration, rolling over his stomach and gazing after Harry. "That was fucking unfair!"
Harry tried not to grin with satisfaction when he laid his eyes on the furious Malfoy heir. "Well, you know what to say, baby."
Draco's eyes cast silvery arrows that wanted to kill. "You should be in Slytherin, Potter. Damn you're vicious!"
"That's what they've been telling me all along."
"They?"
"The Sorting Hat and the Voldemort in me."
Draco looked extremely puzzled. "Ah. Um. Okay…"
Harry smiled and walked back to him. "You never knew Voldemort transferred some of his powers to me that night he tried to kill me."
"Which of those nights?" Draco's voice was a little bitter.
"The first one," Harry suffocated a wide smirk.
"Hmph."
Harry's eyes danced with amusement. He thought Draco looked so cute under the starry sky, flushed with anger and confusion, mouth curled into an unsatisfied expression.
"That's why I truly should be in Slytherin," Harry explained. "Speaking of which… I really plan to be right in there, in a few minutes," he then grinned.
Harry knelt down and smoothed Draco's back seductively.
"Just say those words, my love."
Draco sighed, pressing his face into his palms. He was almost desperate to feel Potter's fingers on his skin again, almost desperate to feel the warmth of that strangely devilish mouth again. Emphasizing the word almost, because Malfoys were never desperate. Not even this time, even though Draco most positively would have jumped down the roof with frustration if Harry would had left.
"Oh, what the hell…" Draco admitted his defeat, nuzzling his face deeper in his hands. "IamHarryPotter'sownsubmissiveslutnowGET the HELL OVER WITH IT, YOU SUCKER!"
"With pleasure, Draco…" Harry smiled. "With pleasure…"