15. Heat
"Draco?"
"Mmmh... Sod off, Goyle..."
"Huh? We're gonna be late for breakfast if you don't get up, Draco."
Sometimes, actually not at all as sporadically as Goyle thought, Draco felt the irresistible need to kick his friend's teeth down his throat.
"Can't you bloody see that I'm having a bad hair day? I'm not showing myself at breakfast. Bugger off."
"Er…"
"Go and find Vin, okay? At least he's always got appetite. I just need a bit more sleep."
The fat mouth of Goyle twisted nervously sideways. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, Draco. Just… don't be late from Potions. I saw Snape early this morning and he wasn't in the best of moods."
Here, Draco allowed his eyes open slightly ajar, turning their cobalt gleam towards his denser than dense sidekick. "Since when have you been up early, Goyle?"
Goyle made an effort not to blush, however failed. Stammering something about the breakfast, he began to turn away.
"Goyle? Are you seeing someone?" Draco was now totally awake. He'd never thought Goyle getting a girlfriend –or a boyfriend. He'd always thought it impossible for both Goyle and Crabbe to get laid, since they hardly could see their fellows as their stomachs were in the way.
"Well? Are you?"
"Uh, well… Not really."
"Not really?"
Goyle's little eyes glimmered in the cold dormitory as he watched how Draco propped himself on his elbows and shook some platinum locks away from his forehead. He was wearing no pyjama top. The milky skin was somewhat bruised every here and there, and he was about to ask how the Slytherin Ice Prince had allowed himself to get such injuries. However he kept his tongue, remembering one certain moving photograph and one certain horny Gryffindor. And he really didn't want to hear what Potter had done with his housemate last night. Not really. But still…
After the first shock, Goyle really thought Draco and Harry a very interesting and inspiring couple. Despite himself, he'd felt himself harden when watching their little show at the party, and now as he brought the image before his eyes again, spiced with the fresh bruises… And all the others had been saying the same... All those who'd seen them together were thinking that they were something so beautiful and wicked together that it wasn't even human.
"Goyle?"
"Hummm… I was just saying… You're really seeing Potter, aren't you?"
A finely shaped, grey eyebrow shot up. "We were discussing about your possible dates, Goyle, not mine."
"I have nobody, Draco."
Draco hopped out of the bed, marching at his extensive wardrobe to get a pair of grey trousers to cover his skin-licking green boxers.
"Don't give me that bullshit, Goyle. Why else would you be up so early? You can tell me, I've been your friend all these sodding sixteen years."
Goyle seemed to hesitate, shifting his remarkable weight from one foot to another, so that Draco was afraid for his joints.
"I… I really could have somebody to confide in," the fat Slytherin finally stated, giving Draco a pleading look. "I just don't want it to go to Potter, is all."
Draco was looking for a matching jumper from his closet. Goyle watched his ivory, muscled back where several red stripes could be seen. Obviously Draco had had a really wild night. And obviously he'd been the one to give Potter one hell of a handling, not the opposite way, even though Goyle had always considered Potter rather dominant.
"Don't worry, Goyle. Even though I might have some fun with the Scar-head, I'm not his friend or anything," Draco said over his shoulder, finding what he was looking for. "Just shoot it."
Goyle took a deep inhale, and even more profound exhale.
"I'm seeing Argus Filch."
Draco swirled around so rapidly that he hit his exquisite forehead on the wardrobe's door. "WHAT?"
"Remember the Halloween… He came to interrupt our party… Well…" Goyle flushed crimson red. "I thought I could stay there and explain some things to him, so that he wouldn't go straight to Dumbledore. And I offered him a bottle of Warrington's, and he actually sat the whole night there with me, drinking with me and… eh…"
Goyle stopped when seeing Draco's inexplicable but rather non-enthralled expression. Only after several seconds of silence, Goyle swallowed and finished his sentence.
"And I kissed him."
Draco was so shocked he'd lost his tongue for the first time in his life. He wasn't shocked about Goyle seeing a man; that was obvious, of course, him being gay himself. But Argus Filch! At least forty years older than Goyle, and immensely ugly at that! Shivers of pure disgust crept up his spine, making him want to grimace with revolt. However, as he was a Malfoy, he had a very talented career of not showing any emotion behind, and it was only too easy for him to build up that shield again.
"You kissed him?" he managed to ask, looking relatively cool.
"Yes," Goyle squirmed. "I… don't want to rush it, like you and Potter. He's very gentle, after all, and very insecure."
"You actually consider you have a real relationship with Filch?"
"Well, no," Goyle winced, almost losing both his voice and courage. "Even though I'd like to."
"Hmm…" Draco took a deep, however unnoticeable breath. "Did you know Filch's up to some very nasty and kinky stuff, like chains and ropes and manacles and… Well, you know what's found in his private office."
Goyle finally lost his words, his ears turning a finer shade of pink. "Um…"
"And that he's thrice as old as you are, Goyle," Draco continued. "This is a very unhealthy relationship you're talking about."
"He's not but fifty-one! He just looks older!" defended Goyle, forgetting to be wordless. "He's the first person ever who'd shown me some kindness besides mum and dad, and I'm damned if I listen to your badly founded accusations of his…"
"CALM DOWN, GOYLE!" Draco shouted, his eyes looking as icy as ever, yet with a hue of amusement. "I don't fucking CARE if you shag Filch, I just wanted to make sure that you know what you're doing."
"I do know what I'm doing," Goyle softly said, looking down. "Besides, we don't shag. We just kiss. I just kissed him once, actually. And now I've been trying to get him more interested, but he refuses me."
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. He'd always thought the last years in the school would be filled with weirdness, with everybody finding somebody to screw, but it had really outdone all his wildest expectations. He'd never thought there'd be so many non-straight relationships going on, let alone between students and staff. He tried not to think about it, being one of the most rumoured persons himself, in some defined circles.
"Draco?"
"Yes, Gregory?"
"Do you know what you're doing, then? With Potter, I mean."
Draco immediately stopped breathing. "Yes," he hastily lied.
Goyle shot him a doubtful look, which was highly non-typical of his puny brains.
"Just… Save me from Filch in future, will you, Greg? I really don't need to hear all the juicy details of your distantly snog-related relationship with him. And I will save you from Potter," Draco said, rather dully.
Goyle nodded in perfect understanding. Draco slithered his school cloak on, and they both left towards the breakfast table, Draco completely forgetting his bad hair day.
The Potions class started with the familiar Ten-Points-from-Gryffindor tirade. Snape was indeed in a very sour mood, for a reason or other, and even the Slytherins kept a low profile. The students continued with the Polyjuice Potion, silently adding a couple of new ingredients into their not-nearly-ready soups.
Gryffindor had lost the ten points because of Harry Potter, which was not a surprise. Harry had come late for the class, looking extremely tired, however smiling. Snape had found this combination of shabbiness, care-freeness and glowing happiness unbearable, and had immediately made him sit next to Millicent Bulstrode. Little did the poor professor know that Millicent's company wasn't a punishment for Harry, if not for her looks -but Harry was actually relieved to get rid of his questioning best friends.
Giving Millicent a lopsided smile, he began to study what ingredients the girl had already put in the mixture with Pansy Parkinson. He smiled inwardly when remembering Hermione brewing the same potion four years earlier. Then Snape's dryer than dry voice rasped in the classroom.
"We are going to do this potion a little differently than what it is in your books. We are going to fasten its process, making it to be ready in two weeks from now. Unfortunate or not, there follows that it's going to affect only forty minutes instead of the full hour, but I have no intention of keeping your lazy student brains hooked up with this boring brew for the entire term. Therefore, add three pinces more Wolfsbane and two drops of dragon blood from a Swedish Short-Snout, when the potion starts to look greenish instead of complete grey. And, do not expect me to taste it for you. We shall have a great contest, I am sure, as to the person who is allowed to taste Neville Longbottom's Polyjuice Potion."
Silent sniggering from the Slytherin side of the classroom made even Harry grin despite himself. Poor Neville was shaking all over, fearing Snape as much as always. Or perhaps he was just afraid that he'd be forced to taste his own potion, for some reason.
Harry yawned and smiled again. He hazily admired the silvery locks just a few meters before him, and sank in his memories about the last night, letting Millicent make every preparation for the potion with Pansy.
Goddamn Malfoy… This pain… All over me…You really didn't give me much mercy, did you? But I guess I hurt you too… I just needed to hurt your pretty body… And you needed to hurt me even more… Oh, shit, this pain… agony… It's hard for me even to think straight… let alone sit…
Harry bit his lip as he remembered how he'd started to kiss Draco again, after the Slytherin had finally agreed to play his little word-game. But as to the things that had followed… They had been completely something else than what Harry had had in mind.
You didn't let me taste you. You didn't let me please you too much. Actually, you didn't let me do anything but fuck you and hard. And even that, you let me do just a little while. Then you went mad… Then you threw me on my back and did those things to me…The same things I did to you, but even more harder… And I groaned for your fucking name in ecstasy, I scratched your soft skin…I loved what you did to me… And you asked me to come… And I did…
Harry's thoughts were a mixture of lust-filled confusion and worry.
But you did not come. You did not come for me. And then you said you never want to come with partners. Never…
Millicent jostled Harry with an elbow, forcing him to look at least somewhat awake, before Snape strolled over to check how their potion was looking. Snorting either disappointedly or sarcastically, the professor continued his way without saying a word, to both Harry and Millicent's relief, and to Pansy's disappointment.
I'll teach you some manners, Malfoy… You don't just start having sex with me like wild rabbits and then not even have an orgasm! I know I can make you come. I know I can do the trick if I want… And you know it too, that's why you're so afraid of my touch. That's why you don't let me come too close. That's why we don't do anything else but raving mad fucking. Because it's easy to control. And because you don't have the courage to come.
Harry noticed that their potion was turning somewhat greenish, and told this to Millicent, who hastily asked Pansy where the Wolfsbane was.
But I will make you come, Draco Malfoy… And I will make you come today! I will make you show your emotions this very fucking damned day. And, if that's not good enough for a punishment… I will do as much as make you come in public… in front of your friends.
Wickedly grinning, Harry handed Pansy the dragon blood and told her she should wear pink more often.
There were rare subjects Draco liked less than Transfiguration, if not counted Divination. Transfiguration was not boring in itself, but the fact that the professor who taught it was the Gryffindor head of house, Minerva McGonagall, made Draco despise everything related to transfiguring; just like the Gryffindors hated Severus Snape and Potions.
Draco was, of course, one of the most gifted students of the class, despite his clear antagonism towards the teacher. For his only luck, professor McGonagall wasn't keen on drawing points from any of the houses, and therefore he'd manage the class trough by merely looking bored and doing the things he was told, showing not more than slight disinterest.
However, today there was something to cheer him up. Namely, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were making a rather loud fuss quite near Potter and Weasley's table, chirping excitedly about boys and their outer appearances. And more than in one occasion, Draco heard his own name take place in the girls' conversation.
"He's got so strong arms… So fine biceps… not too beefy at all, just perfectly fit," Lavender was giggling under her breath to Parvati and everybody else who cared to listen. "You really must admit it, Hermione. Draco Malfoy is one hot package."
Draco couldn't help his curiosity and carefully glanced at Granger's direction. She was looking merely horrified. Draco grinned.
"He's not all that bad looking, if you put it that way, Lavender, but you must see what a prick he is," Hermione hushed.
Lavender only giggled more. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like Harry so much! But really, just take a look at Malfoy, Herm, and tell me which one is better looking, he or Harry. And seriously."
Draco immediately looked away from the girls, concentrating on rolling up the parchment in front of him. He really had to wonder if the Brown girl had any brains left at all. She seemed to be even more lack-wit than Gregory and Vincent. But he hated to admit it, he was still interested to hear Granger's opinion.
"Lavender, could you please keep your voice down," Hermione instructed. "And for your information, when I really think about the matter, I cannot say which one is better looking. They're so different, like light and shadow. Though… I don't know which one is the light and which the shadow, if you go and think it too deeply. Uh… But I can clearly say who is the cute and warm one, and who is not. Now please, turn around and follow the teaching."
Draco smiled. So, the mud-blood Granger could not completely deny that he was good-looking. She was thinking him as much as very handsome, if she could compare him with Potter that easily.
Light and shadow indeed… Am I the light-looking shadow and Potter the shadow-looking light, or what?
"Malfoy's hair's so soft, so beautiful! Almost like mine!" Lavender blabbered. "Whereas Harry's is ruffled and messy and unrefined."
"Lavender, please would you listen to the professor?" Hermione pleaded. "Mocking Harry doesn't bring him back, you know."
"Hey, I got it! Let's arrange a vote! The handsomest boy and the prettiest girl of the school!" squeaked Lavender, completely ignoring Hermione.
She received excited nods from Parvati. "It will be so much fun!"
Draco snorted. So, who is the fairest one of all in this school? It's got to be either me… or me. And Potter can have both the second and the third place.
"Honestly…" started Hermione, but shut her mouth as professor McGonagall glared at the girls crossly.
"Miss Brown, if you are done with admiring Mr Malfoy for the day, would you please come forth and show us how you change this little bowl into a pensieve."
Flushing, the Gryffindor girl tiptoed in front of the class, now looking somewhat nervous. Draco took the chance and sneaked a glance at Potter's direction. He met the pair of green eyes briefly, convinced that Potter had also heard the back-and-forth of the girls.
I so hope they won't seriously arrange some bloody beauty contest… That would be so humiliating. Not that I plan to take part in it, but still. The ridicule, the silliness, the absurdity…the naivety of it all. Or maybe I'm just afraid that Potter might win? Draco snorted again. Not likely…
Everybody's attention then turned to Lavender, who'd managed to make a teapot out of the bowl, instead of a pensieve.
The afternoon rolled forwards. At six, Draco was sitting in the library with Crabbe and Goyle, preparing for the next day's DADA lesson. They were sitting at a large, round table, and each of the three had spread their books and other stuff carelessly in front of them.
"Could you tell me once more the meaning of this particular runic symbol, Draco? I think this is a banishing rune," asked Vincent Crabbe. "I really didn't get it, the way our teacher explained it. How can you possibly get it attached to an item? And how will it work? Send the person over to the other side of the room?"
Sighing, Draco put his book about Advanced Dark Runic Symbols for Future Dark Lords by T. Riddle away. "The first thing you must learn, Vin, is to recognise the difference between Charms and Symbol Magic. The second thing to do is to understand what the Symbols mean. And to understand their meaning, you have already done some runic studies in our fifth year."
"We had runic studies last year?" asked Goyle, munching a muffin.
Draco looked desperate. "You both passed it, even though with poor marks. But how can't you remember?"
"Um, was it the course where we were supposed to figure out the meaning of some weird-looking chicken scratches? Like in Divination, when we try to understand what our tea-leaves say?"
Draco didn't even bother to reply. He sank lower in his chair, stretching his feet under the table, and picked up his book again. And then he felt it. Somebody leaning to his thighs.
"Could you please check this out, Draco?" Goyle asked, handing a parchment to his little boss. "Look what it says."
The hands slid towards the buttons of Draco's trousers, undoing them one by one. Draco looked down horrified, suddenly seeing Harry Potter's grinning face right between his femurs. For the luck, there were piles of books in front of Draco, so that Harry was quite invisible to the other two Slytherins.
Draco took the parchment from Goyle, however used his other hand to push Potter away. 'Not now you idiot' he mouthed, trying to sit more straight in the chair. But Potter only went wilder with this, grabbing his buttocks and pulling him even more under the table.
"Aah… This really is a runic symbol for banishing something or someone…" Draco began, when noticing Goyle's questioning expression.
"So I thought!" Goyle grinned satisfied.
"However this is a very strong symbol. It can send somebody completely into another place, like a sort of p-portk…" Draco's voice caught in his throat as he felt Potter's warm lips curl around his member, sucking it teasingly.
"Yes?" asked now Crabbe, looking up from his own homework.
"However, it's destination can't b-be defined, it's randommm… ah... yes, v-very random," Draco continued. He felt now very hard, and desperately tried to kick Potter away with his legs, however finding them bound between the Gryffindor's arms and sides.
"So, we just draw this symbol somewhere and Merlin help the one who steps on it?"
"N-not just that easily. It's also important… to learn how to… to articulate the incantation…"
"What's wrong, Draco?" Vincent furrowed his black brows. "You got an allergic reaction, or why is it so hard to speak?"
Draco pulled Potter's hair now more fiercely than ever, trying to make the Gryffindor retreat. However he was granted only with fistfuls of ebony hair.
"Umm… It's just… stomach-ache…"
Both his sidekicks shrugged, and returned to their muffins and notes.
"So, how do you attach the symbol into an item?" Goyle mused.
"You need to… oh! Umm… You draw the runic symbol at the surface of the item with your wannnnnd… Ahem… While simultaneously saying the-ehh… incantation."
Casting now a pleading look at Potter's dancing eyes, Draco tried to wriggle away from the situation. But Harry was not permitting it. He stopped the caresses of his tongue for a couple of seconds, just to articulate with his mouth 'I will scream' before returning to sucking the lights out of Draco Malfoy again. Draco felt he wanted to cry.
"And then what?" Crabbe asked.
"Then… Yesss… Then you will specify the time or the way whenandhowthesymbolactivatessss... Aaaah… B-but we'll learn about t-that in our next lesson."
Draco had now a very hard time keeping his expressions at least somewhat normal. For his luck, his friends weren't that bright, but it still wouldn't be proper of him to be writhing with divine pleasure in front of them, moaning like a wild cat.
"You really should go see Pomfrey for that stomach ache, Draco," Goyle said, however not looking at him. "I hear she's got a very good receipt of a hot chocolate, which relieves the pain…"
"Mmmmggfff… Yessss… I've heard about it alrighttttt…"
Glancing down again, he saw an incredible view, with Potter doing him the most incredible things.
"You know, that Brown girl is really going to arrange a beauty contest," Crabbe noted, grabbing another muffin. "Spect you win, Draco. Everybody adores you. If not in public, then at least secretly."
"Yeah, unless they decide to vote Potter, just to make it sure that a Slytherin won't win," added Goyle, now drawing the initials A.F. into the cover of his schoolbook.
"S'okay… R-really… I'm not eventakingpartinit…" Draco whined. He was now dangerously close.
Harry took the not-so-little-one entirely in his mouth, making the Slytherin throw his head backwards with both panic and pleasure. His caresses were driving the blonde hopelessly over the edge. Draco had given up trying to push Harry away; it wasn't leading anywhere, since the Gryffindor obviously would prefer to die before stopping the job he was doing. Draco's mouth twisted with the approaching orgasm, and he wanted to groan with the waves of satisfaction and delectation.
"Here, let me help you to Pomfrey…" Crabbe started to rise from his seat.
"NO! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Draco shouted in panic, so that the whole silent library echoed with his voice, and Crabbe dropped back. "I'm just FINE! I just… WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP STARING AT ME RIGHT NOW PLEASE? Because I'm… I'm… Oh, no… No… Nnnnggghhh… FUCK! FUCK! Oh, fuck…"
Draco doubled over with the orgasm, slamming his forehead at the table top, sinking his fingers painfully in Harry's strong biceps. He distantly felt how Harry swallowed everything. He distantly felt how Crabbe and Goyle watched him as if he would've just dropped dead in front of them. He distantly felt the urge to cry.
The Gryffindor's gentle fingers re-buttoned his trousers back to their original state before retreating. Draco tried to make his breaths normal again, with a huge effort not to look like some fifth-year Hufflepuff girl after her first time. Then the weight was shifted from his thighs and he knew Harry Potter was gone, easily escaped with the help of the Invisibility Cloak.
Damn you Potter… I'll make you pay for this… I swear I'll make you pay…He snarled against the wooden surface of the table.
But damn it felt so good…
…TBC…
A/N: I apologise. This was a really shocking chapter. Somebody hex me.