A/N: Some wonderful person offered to beta this story for me but I accidentally removed their email address from my inbox and therefore could not send the story forwards. So, naturally, I am terribly ashamed of myself. *hides under the couch*

9. Slytherin Flavour

Draco Malfoy was positively glowing. He was sitting across from Potter, curiously examining the Gryffindor, who was biting his nails nervously. The Black Maria winked at Draco, sitting firmly between the blonde's thumb and forefinger, flanked by a very jealous-looking King of Spades. Draco grinned. Oh, yes… The game was going to end up just the way he wanted it; there was no question about that. No… The real question was how he wanted to end this particular match.

"Well, are you going to strike or not?" Harry asked, glaring at the beaming Veela boy.

"Give me a minute here, you fretful mossback," Draco glared. His eyes were examining Harry's full mouth in a quite shameless way.

Harry's lips were parted and slightly swollen, because the hero boy had been chewing them in excitement during the whole game. Would it not be just wonderful to have that soft mouth caressing his fingers? Oh, yes, it would be heavenly. But, Draco was a really realistic Veela. He knew that this kind of situation, where Harry was kneeling in front of him and sucking his aristocratic fingers might be a bit too much to him. It might lead to very embarrassing consequences indeed. It might render Draco defenceless, vulnerable and categorically very, very horny. Draco gave a disgusted shudder at the idea; he would not be growing willingly hot for Potter.

"Malfoy! Come on...!" Harry whined. He poked Draco's knee impatiently, demanding attention.

"Yes, yes... just a second…"

Draco lowered his eyes from Harry's mouth to the hands. The Gryffindor had actually quite nice hands, if not counted the obvious fact that his nails were gnawed. Harry's hands were rather large, and Draco imagined them also warm and slightly coarse. The fingers were long, just like Draco's were, and undoubtedly very capable of doing unmentionable things to another person. The thought that those very same fingers had curled around the Golden Snitch on the Quidditch pitch oh-so-many times only increased Draco's frustrated excitement instead of diminishing it like he would have hoped. Draco groaned inwardly when he fought a losing battle with his raging hormones. No matter how much the 'old' Draco Malfoy tried to protest against the idea in his head, he knew that he would just love to kiss the tips of those beautiful digits, suck them in his mouth one by one and…

"Malfoy, seriously, this is getting lame," Harry complained.

Slowly, Draco raised his grey orbs to meet the bright, emerald gaze of Harry's eyes. Instatnly, he felt his animalistic instincts kick in with full force. Draco licked his lips and stared.

Harry was so gorgeous. Harry was stunning. So very beautiful, so very powerful. So powerful, actually, that Draco could not tear his eyes off the black-haired boy even if he tried.

And hell, he really tried.

All in vain.

Rampant thoughts, all of them quite un-Slytherin by their nature, started to swirl in the Veela's head. Harry was his mate. Harry was his love. Harry was his everything. Harry was his. He needed him. He wanted him. He… No! Draco ripped his eyes off Potter with the last drops of his self restraint, and groaned aloud. The whole bet now felt like it had been a bad, bad idea from the very beginning on.

"What's wrong?" asked Blaise, raising a brow. He slammed his book shut, and stretched his arms. "The game is over soon?"

"I wouldn't know," Harry pouted, and glowered at Draco. "He won't play!"

"It's over, alright." Draco came back to his senses. He threw the two spades at Harry, smirking. "Start sucking."

Harry gave out an indignant whimper and a groan.

Blaise started chuckling. "Didn't I warn you, Potter?" he grinned.

"Shut it, Zabini," Harry snarled. "This is not even remotely funny."

Draco, eyes misty with suppressed lust, grinned victoriously. However, he did not much appreciate the urgent heat which seemed to take control over his body. Desperately he hoped that it would fade away when Harry touched him, so that the situation would not jump out of hands.

"Alright," Harry spat, casting venomous daggers at Draco. "Give me your stupid hands, and let's get over with this."

Suddenly, Vincent Crabbe patted the poor Gryffindor's back, trying to look sorry. "Do you want me to do the job for you, Potter?" he asked. "I'm willing to help."

Before the shocked and colour-drained Draco could answer for himself, Harry cut in. "Uh, no need to do that, Crabbe. But thanks anyway."

"Are you sure?" the overweight boy looked utterly disappointed, and also a little bit menacing.

Harry imagined the sight where Vincent Crabbe was sucking Draco Malfoy's fingers, and his stomach lurched pretty badly at the idea. "Yeah, I'm sure. Er, very sure."

To make things look even more certain, Harry took Draco's pale, silk-soft hands in his own rough ones and raised them to his chest.

Draco calmed down immediately when Harry touched him. But, the safe and tranquil feeling was not destined to last for long. Because, when Draco noticed how gently Harry was holding his hands, keeping them against his rapidly beating heart, the Veela's mouth went dry. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on breathing evenly. Or, well, breathing in general.

"So, which hand first?" Draco absently heard Harry asking.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled. His eyes were now halfway open, and he was sure he slurred his words. "You decide."

Harry arched a questioning brow, but didn't pursue the matter further. "Okay."

Harry chose the left hand. Very slowly, as if teasing Draco, he brought the soft fingertips to his lips. Then flickered his tongue out, brushing it along the sensitive skin of the little finger. Then he slid his whole mouth around the digit, and sucked.

Draco was sure he would die.

Harry released the little finger and kissed the small tip of it before moving to the ring finger. He nibbled the head gently with his teeth before lowering his mouth again. Involuntarily, Draco leaned forwards to the touch and moaned.

"You like it?" asked Blaise, grinning. He was following the whole scene with no less enthusiasm than Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter's... Actually... Pretty good with his mouth..." Draco managed to say. To his luck, he at least sounded quite normal, and not the hormone-induced puddle of pink little blindworms he was feeling.

Harry flashed a teasing little smile before he started to work on the middle finger.

Draco suppressed another moan by biting his tongue.

Crabbe and Goyle were both enthralled. They were gaping at the dreamy blonde from their four-poster beds, leaning forwards as far as their stomachs allowed. Blaise, however, was not as hypnotized by the sight. Oh, no. He was positively lively and very much mirthful.

"Potter's practised this!" he wooted. "Potter knows how to give a blow job! Potter's sucked someone's cock before!"

Well. That had not been exactly the wisest thing to say, obviously, in front of one firmly-fixed closet-case and one deadly jealous Veela.

Blaise did not know what hit him. All he knew was that he was suddenly pressed against the cold stone floor by four strong arms, and two lithe, panther-like bodies.

"Take that back, Zabini!" shouted Harry, his deep emerald eyes flaming. He had leapt to sit on Blaise's lower back, and was now pushing the boy's shoulders down against the ground with all his weight. "I so haven't done anything like that, you pervert!"

Draco hissed, his corner teeth beginning to grow alarmingly sharp. He was straddling the back of Blaise's knees, holding the boys ankles in a death-grip behind his luckily still non-winged back. "Neither of us is gay," he saw fit to inform.

"Okay, okay!" Blaise whimpered. "Gosh, I was just joking! Merlin!"

Draco, still feeling extremely riled up and jealous because of what Blaise had dared to suggest about his mate, squeezed his ankles harder. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin and growled. "It was a bad joke, Blaise. And you know how I hate bad jokes."

"I'm awaiting an apology," Harry declared. He released Blaise's shoulders and leaned backwards, allowing the toppled Slytherin to look up and over his shoulder.

Blaise, indeed, turned his face at Potter. "M'not apologizing to you," he gave a laugh.

"Yes, you are," Draco simply decided.

"What?" Blaise sounded bewildered.

Harry turned at Draco, too, amazement clear in his eyes.

Draco actually looked rather confused. His teeth diminished quickly and he scrambled up to his feet. Then he scowled. "Well since we're all sharing a dormitory room for the next four weeks, I thought it was a good idea to try and come along. Even with Potter."

The bemused stared did not die away; on the contrary. Wasn't it Draco who had had big issues about the new sleeping arrangements in the first place? Blaise and Harry were now accompanied by Vincent and Gregory in their bewilderment.

"Well excuse me for being nice and all!" Draco shouted, spreading his arms. The strange looks simply annoyed the hell out of him. "It's been a fucking tiring day, and I'm fucking full of arguments! I have very delicate Veela nerves now, and I need at least relative peace! Peace! Is that too much to ask for?"

"Malfoy, you're bloody losing it," Harry blatantly stated.

"Oh, I am? Well, maybe if you wouldn't have bloody lost my medicines first, we wouldn't even be having this stupid conversation, and you wouldn't be lounging in my bedroom! Contrary to your stuck-up beliefs, hero boy, I don't fancy spending time with you and your scarred face anyhow special."

"You're a jerk-off," Harry narrowed his green eyes. "So go jerk off. I don't want your company either."

Draco opened his mouth to say something equally rude back, but then he suddenly felt a ghost of a touch on his hair. He swirled around, only to collide his face with Vincent Crabbe's massive chest. He gasped with shock as the boy's arm slithered around his waist.

"Calm down, mate," Vincent said. "Here, let me hold you. You can relax against me."

"Vincent. KEEP YOUR FREAKING HANDS OFF ME!" Draco yelled, at the top of his lungs, straight up at Vincent's face.

The other boy just stared dumbly down at Draco, not moving an inch –not even wincing.

Harry, apparently feeling a thunderstorm coming, stood up and released Blaise. Together, the two of them went quickly to pry Draco and Vincent apart. Harry started to work with the rigid clutch of Vincent's arm, and Blaise tried to shove his way in between the two. Wind was already starting to surge around the trapped Veela, its magical gusts tousling everyone's hair.

"Vincent, really, let him go!" Blaise tried to persuade his friend. "We don't want a dirty big hurricane to come and demolish our only bedroom, do we?"

Vincent glared.

"Draco may be irresistible to you right now, but he's still your friend," Blaise continued. "You don't want to harm your friend, do you?"

Harry didn't find Blaise's words anyway helpful, seeing as Vincent's arm was still tightly around the blonde boy. Shuddering with disgust, Harry then decided to try a new method. Inspired by what had happened between him and Draco just a while ago, he took one of Vincent's chubby fingers in his mouth and bit his teeth sharply down.

"Ouch! Argh!" Vincent shrieked as Harry's canines sharply plunged in the flesh of his hand. The hand quickly retreated. "Potter, you son of a bitch!"

Harry pulled Draco out of his enraged roommate's way and took out his wand. "Crabbe, I warn you. If you ever touch Draco again, I will curse you. Real bad. And don't think I won't."

Vincent swallowed, but looked infuriated still.

Harry continued. "Besides, I think Malfoy's right. We should try to come along. It's not like we have to like each other, but at least we could pretend that we're in civil terms, right? I don't want anyone to end up murdered in their sleep."

"You wouldn't murder anyone, Potter, you two-goody-shoes Gryffindor girl!" Vincent pouted, and crossed his arms.

"I did murder Voldemort," Harry reminded the boy. His eyes flickered with dark humour.

Here, Gregory saw it wise to interfere. He straightened up and kicked Vincent in the shin. "Calm down, Vince, you stupid oaf," he said. "Or do you want Potter to hex you into a toad or something?"

Vincent only grunted, but could not actually deny the fact that he was fighting on a losing side. Potter was, undeniably, a very powerful wizard, even though he was physically on the smaller side. So therefore, very reluctantly, Crabbe finally sauntered back to his own bed.

"Malfoy," Harry turned around and pocketed his wand. "You okay?"

"Perfect," Draco snarled. He was actually feeling brazenly wild at the moment. The protective and angry Harry was something all too much sexy for the poor Veela. He wanted to bounce Harry right here and now. But, of course, the Gryffindor had no idea.

"I think it's best that we go to bed already," Harry looked exhausted. "We're all tired. Besides, Theodore should be back here any minute now, and I don't want a scene." He looked pointedly at Draco.

Draco almost didn't get the meaning of that sharp stare since he was meticulously un-dressing Harry with his mind's eye. "Hmm... Okay..."

"Malfoy, I want you to understand me. I don't want you to try any kind of revenge towards Nott. Is that clear? Heaven only knows I'm tired of this shit."

Draco's grey eyes flashed with mercury fire. From hatred or passion or both, nobody knew.

Blaise yawned. "I'm going to have a shower. When Theo comes back, tell him that I borrowed his shampoo and conditioner." He rummaged through Theodore's trunk and stalked out of the room.

Harry watched him go, slight suspicion dwelling in his chest. He could not help but wonder about the brown-haired Slytherin's behaviour. There was just something too weird about it all. For one, Harry could not understand why Blaise so vehemently wanted to swallow down his own lust towards Draco. After all, acknowledging one's bisexual side was not a cause of shame anymore, seeing as half the boys in school already were rampant wild about Draco. Could it be possible that Blaise really acted by purely unselfish motives, and was worried about his best mate? Harry snorted. Draco Malfoy, having real friends? The idea was ludicrous.

Shaking his head, Harry decided it was best to go and get some actual sleep. Maybe in the morning his brain would be able to progress the whole Veela issue more rationally. He grabbed the hem of his pullover and flung the garment over his head.

"Let's change into pajamas, then," he said to no-one in particular, yet meaning his words to catch Draco.

Without him knowing it, Draco cursed under his breath. Harry without a shirt! The Veela whimpered and hurried towards his wardrobe, turning his back at the Gryffindor. He did not want to see Harry without clothes. He did not! He groaned again, this time very audibly.

"Malfoy, what the fuck is your problem now?" Harry asked, tiredly. His voice was almost desperate. "Can't you behave normally just for a little while, please?"

"Fuck you, Potter."

Harry walked behind the blonde Slytherin and eyed the Veela's tensed shoulders. "Okay, I understand." he sighed. "You must think it's awkward to change your clothes in front of Vincent and Gregory now? After what happened today and last night? Here, let me help you. I'll keep this bedspread..."

"NO!" Draco grabbed the coverlet back from Harry's hands, tossed it back to his bed and turned angrily around. "I just don't want... I... Er... Uh."

Shit. Draco was now standing face to face with the Gryffindor. And Harry was still without a shirt.

"You just don't want what?" Harry glowered, his eyes casting annoyed green sparks at Draco. "Look, I'm growing kind of short of patience here."

"You? YOU!" Draco spat. He was now too far gone with both lust and anger, and he couldn't take it anymore. "You are growing short of patience? Well What. About. ME?"

The room stirred with released innate magic again, and Harry felt a cold breeze of dungeon air waft around them. And, not many seconds later, Draco lunged himself at Harry like a wild tiger and grabbed the Gryffindor's raven locks.

"YOU THINK THAT I AM ENJOYING THIS SITUATION, HUH?" he roared. "I HATE THIS, YOU HEAR ME? I HATE THIS!" he shouted directly in Harry's ear.

Harry grimaced when his ears were attacked this way. He retaliated by grabbing Draco's white locks in turn. "DON'T YOU SHOUT AT ME, MALFOY! You have no right or reason to lose your cool! I have been a very good protector! I have done everything I possibly can to ensure your safety, when nothing would delight me more than to have you knocked up by some horrid monstrous being! Maybe I'll just let you alone with FILCH next time you're serving detention!"

"WHAT?" Draco raged, and punched Harry in the stomach. "That is SO disgusting! And if anyone here is going to serve DETENTION, it is YOU, you stupid wanker, for SPOILING MY LIFE!"

"Well YOU could've been more DISCREET about using those fucking DRUGS of yours, Malfoy!" Harry hissed, and tried to kick Malfoy. "How was I supposed to know that you were not a drug addict but some FREAKING ANIMAL? HUH?"

"I AM NOT," Draco looked positively mad, "AN ANIMAL!"

"YES," Harry looked as mad as his rival, "YOU ARE!"

"AM NOT!" Draco shoved his hands around Harry's throat and squeezed hard.

"YES," Harry coughed, and tried to haul Malfoy off him, "YOU ARE!"

Draco leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm going to kill you, Potter," he whispered threateningly, his lips nearly touching Harry's. Then he squeezed Harry's neck again, with new force.

Harry groaned in tired despair. He didn't have the energy for this. Not now. But he did not quite know what to do about it. Granted, he was slightly taller and stronger than the rabid Veela, but he really didn't want to hurt Draco. Gathering all his willpower and remaining energy, Harry did what his senses first told him to do.

He brought his lips to Draco's and gave him a soft kiss.

"Beware. If you get too close, I might start to lust over you, as well," he managed to cough.

Draco's hands lost their deadly grip immediately. His eyes flew open and he staggered back from the Gryffindor. "W-what?" he swallowed.

Harry, satisfied with the way he had handled the situation, clutched Draco's right hand and sucked two of the fingers half way in his mouth. Then he slid them out of his mouth and looked seriously in Draco's smoky-grey eyes. "You heard me."

As expected, Draco went rigid –and very, very silent.

Harry had no idea what he was doing to Draco. The only thought in the Gryffindor's mind was to make Draco feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the Veela directly in the eye. "See, you can't risk this. I don't know what the hell keeps me immune to your so-called charms at the moment, but if you keep harassing me like you just did, maybe the protection shield wears down. And then you're left all alone to deal with your Veela problem."

Draco just weakly nodded.

"Good. Calm now?"

Draco stared at him, almost ready to cry with inner confusion. "Yeah."

"Alright," Harry wriggled up from the floor and stood up. "Change into your pajamas, Malfoy, and go brush your teeth."

**

That night, before falling asleep, Draco decided that he would have to stay the hell out of Potter's reach in the following twenty-and-some days. He needed to be as far away from the Gryffindor as possible, if he wanted to survive the following weeks intact.

Intact physically – and intact emotionally.

As the nocturnal minutes ticked onwards, he fell in a peaceful slumber, knowing that Harry's wards were there to protect him from the monsters of the night again.

.

.

.

…TBC…