A Slytherin's Satisfaction

Disclaimer: Characters and all that good stuff belong to J.K. Rowling. No, I don't own either Draco Malfoy or Harry Potter, because if I did…:sigh: The things I would make them do.

Summary: What gives our favorite Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, the ultimate bliss? Unadulterated satisfaction? ...Our favorite Gryffindor, Harry Potter, that's who. Now add strange situations and read about their first times.

A/N: Okay, I know I suck at updating, but it is finally here! You know what to do, at the very end. Yes, make my day by reviewing. Oh, I hope all of you enjoy. And a sorry, in advance, for the errors. Spell checkers will get me only so far.

6?

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Kiss You Sweet Like

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Draco Malfoy was roaming down an endless corridor, the stone walls forever tall, the faceless portraits taunting. Doors were on either side of him, yet whenever he tried to open one, it would vanish the instant his hand touched the knob. He kept calling out, the sound of his voice would echo until it seemed that there were millions of him. Yet there weren't, because he was all alone. Windows were scarce, and though they did show a bottomless drop of blackness, it was comforting. It meant that somewhere, down there, there was a ground. And that meant an escape.

Every time a window came near, the blinding light of the moon would bounce of the stones, the portraits would shriek in their haste to get out of its harsh glare. The moonlight reflected perfectly off his silver spun hair; his features were sharper, deeper, and he seemed older in this place. Doors still came and went, and as he grew increasingly more irritated and just a little desperate, the end seemed near. Doors, beautifully designed doors that seemed strangely familiar greeted him. As he pulled them open, he recognized this place. As in the corridor, it could have been any magical corridor with magical paintings. But this place, he knew. It was at his school, Hogwarts. It was the library, in face, just another library that he remembered. The bookshelves where placed in a maze like design, the opening of said maze directly in front of him. Breathing heavily, agitated beyond belief, yet blessedly thanking whatever deity decided to help him in this strange place. He got on well with his surroundings if he knew them well. And being a Malfoy meant he knew every place that he had ever been in like the back of his hand.

Starting, the books had titles, but the titles held no meaning. Seconds of walking turned to minutes, hours, maybe days, as it was all a haze to him. Finally, the zigzag of the maze straightened out, and he walked in a straight line, instead of a corridor of stone, a corridor of books. The surroundings were still familiar, still very similar to what he knew in 'his world.' A bright light shown in the distance, and he closed in quickly, seeming to think that this was the end of his bizarre journey. Sitting in a desk, writing frantically, sat Hermione Granger. Better yet known as 'Mudblood' to Draco. He made a noise of dislike, caught between a scoff and a growl. As she looked up from her books, he quickly changed his face from a look of puzzlement to a fierce looking sneer. This is what he knew. He knew Hermione, and that little bit of information brought him comfort. Just as he was about to say something, a wind blew, fast and cold, causing his robes to billow around him. He struggled to see her, yet when she came into focus, she was hardly struggling with the wind. In fact, the books on her table and herself were not affected by the wind in the least. She sat, writing a little more calmly than before, though her hand was moving at an incredible speed.

Just as Draco was going to ask what the bloody hell was going on, the harsh winds picked up again, this time so hard that it forced him a few steps back. His range of vision of Granger was not affected, and he saw her perfectly, the way not a hair on her head moved an inch from the wind she didn't seem to feel. And as he kept staring, the wind picked up more speed, but this time, he kept on watching her, because it wasn't the girl Draco called 'Mudblood' sitting in the seat.

The hair had shortened and darkened, going from mousy brown to midnight black, the same color as the night outside. Her bland skin bronzed in front of his very eyes, the girlish figure became thick and sturdy. Chest had chiseled and legs became lean and long. The reason Draco could tell that the girl turned boy sitting in front of him was indeed a boy, through and through, was because the boy sitting just a few feet away from him was naked. Like the day he was born. Although, granted, nobody could be born looking that good, but Harry Potter was a God to behold, and Draco couldn't tear his eyes away.

Jaw dropped and chest aching, Draco feared to speak incase the wind picked up again. As he wondered over what to do, he realized that watching a naked Potter's eyes roam all over his own person was all together entertaining, but morally wrong. He HATED Potter, in 'his world.' When he properly thought up a scathing comment, it was poised perfect only on his tongue, Potter got up, and walked over to him. His muscles rippled under his skin, his stride confident, mysterious. He stopped a few feet from Draco, watching, seeming to be contemplating his next move. Before Draco could even speak or move, Harry's arm came up; his right hand cupped Draco's face as if he had the right to. His index finger skidded over Draco's lips, and Draco wondered whether he should bite it, or lick it. Whichever one would get effectively get rid of a naked Harry Potter, of course. He figured biting him would be too harsh, as his hand was soft and comforting in this strange place, but licking would probably give Harry wrong ideas. He decided to nibble and suck instead on Harry's index finger instead.

Harry moaned softly at the contact, Draco's mouth closing around a part of him. He immediately decided that this wasn't the best way to go, especially when Harry pressed his naked body closer, wanton like. He responded differently than Draco had guessed, but it wasn't unwanted, like Draco wanted to believe. Before he could stop himself, his hands came up to rest on Harry's chest, his reason was to push Harry away. When he actually felt the warm skin, especially when he was so cold from the previous wind, he couldn't get rid of the only thing keeping him warm. So he pulled him closer, his hands roaming all over Harry's body, trying to get more heat while it was freely given. He scratched his way down Harry's back, effectively causing Harry to arch catlike into his body. When warm lips met his own…

Ah. Well, that was amusing, wasn't it? Once again, the dreams starring Potter have stirred up my outrageously insatiable libido. There is no point ignoring it, I'm already past the denial. I suppose it is just time to accept it; it's happened before. Dreaming of Potter that is. And there is no point in doing nothing about it, because I want them to end. And end they will, because tonight, I will put a stop to them. I'll have what I've fantasized about, and I'll get him out of my system. The poor boy won't know what hit him. Besides, tomorrow I'll be going home for Christmas break, far away from him. Or maybe I'll just rattle his mind to think it was all a dream. All I know is that I have to have him, tonight.

It's not as if I like BOYS, it is just that… Potter is everything I've ever wanted to conquer. Having his friendship wouldn't have been enough, if he had granted me that in the first place. But he didn't. The repressed feelings have finally taken their toll, and I need this to stop. It's been six long years, and Father expects things of me. This burden is keeping me from important matters. Besides, this hard on is starting to hurt, and I refuse to wank off myself.

Finding my way to Gryffindor door is depressingly easy. You'd think those bloody prats would have disguised their common room or something. But oh no, they chose to guard it with a frighteningly fat lady, who snores and lets others in while dreaming. Honestly.

The Gryffindor Common Room is quite scary, with its hideous color scheme. It's in the dead of night, and with just the fire going, the room is practically glowing red and gold. Gross. But, I must admit, that fire does look promising, as does that couch. If… no, when I get Potter exactly where I want him, submissive and begging, I may just haul him down here for a little fun.

Since the layout of the dormitories should be about the same as Slytherin's, then the boys rooms should be on the right. Haha, that is pretty hilarious once one starts to think about it. Draco Malfoy, the boy who should be notorious for heading up the left staircase of any dormitory, but there you have it. Draco Malfoy is going up to find bloody Potter the very first time he sets foot on Gryffindor territory. Talk about ironic.

The stairs are winding, and there are several doors with signs on them. 'First Years, Second Years, Third Years...' and on and on until I finally get to my destination. Harry Potter is so mine.

Upon entering, the first thing I notice is the gigantic windows letting in the moonlight. And what are the chances that all except one of the bloody beds have their curtains drawn. This is supposed to be easy. Just my luck.

The bed with the open curtain is Neville Longbottom. Nothing spectacular about that, except that he snores like Pansy does. Anyway, moving on. The first curtained bed is a dud. Turns out the artist, Thomas or something, likes to sleep in the buff, with the other Gryffindor, the one with the horrible Irish twang. Thank Merlin they weren't going at it when I walked in here. As we're all wizards, I'm sure they use silencing charms, but to actually witness any part of their anatomy disappearing into the other… ugh. Gross, I've just scarred myself, probably for life. The next curtained bed is empty; meaning it's Thomas's or the Irish brat's. Moving on, the fourth bed belongs to none other than… Harry Potter. Oh lucky day. Jesus, he really is beautiful. In a ridiculously romantic moment, I notice that the moonlight falls on him from the window, and it makes his hair and skin practically glow. But I need to snap out of that, immediately. Tonight, and its over. It will be over and I'll never look back again. I swear it on my father's life.

So how should I really go about this? Just shove the boy over and jump on top of him? Wake him up slowly with kisses? Suck his half-erect cock in my mouth and then ravish him?

Before I can even decide, the stupid boy wakes up.

Maybe it's from the moonlight that's shining on his face, no longer blocked from the curtain because I stupidly opened it while I thought of the best way to fuck him senseless. At least I have the good judgment to cast a silencing spell. Kudos for me.

He blinks his eyes owlishly, looking directly into the moonlight and squinting even more. He turns to face me, and he stills. Shit.

He doesn't react the way I thought he would, with screams and the like. Instead he just sort of stares and smiles drowsily. "Draco," said in a groggy voice.

Holy SHIT.

I sort of chuckle, put on my "shit-eating" grin, and rub my head at being so stupidly caught, but then he just closes his eyes and it seems like he is about to fall asleep again. What the fuck is going on?

And then I look around, and I notice his hideous glasses on the nightstand. So, wait a second. How does he know it's me if he can't really see me? I mean, it's highly unlikely that he wears those things for a fashion statement because man, how tragic would that be? The poor misguided boy…

No wait. What if… he's like, dreaming sort of? Like awake, but not conscious. He did call me by my first name, and he has never done that before.

So I do the only thing that makes sense. My curiosity is piqued, and I can't just leave after I've planned on doing this for so long. I just have to find out how he knows it's me.

And the only way I can think of to wake him up is to poke him. Hard. And maybe calling his name will help too.

Whispered. "Potter? Potter!"

Louder. "Potter! POTTER!"

There we go. Now he's up. His eyes open wide and he looks at me, and I realize that his gaze isn't focused entirely on me. We can't have that, now can we? I reach over to grab his glasses. Once I have them, I shove them on his face. He blinks and looks at me, and says, so endearingly, "Hmm?" He notices me and groans. "Not another dream…"

Dream? Dream! What dream? Harry has now huffed self-piteously and has laid back and is rubbing his eyes. He freezes; he notices the glasses on his face. "...What?" He questions himself.

He removes his hands from his face and looks at me. I mean really looks at me.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He yells very loudly and sits up. I really only have to say that I am very glad that I put that silencing charm around us. I lean over and his eyes get wider. I don't know what makes me want to do it, I really don't. Maybe it's the way that he is looking at me. But, I lean over even further and kiss him. On the lips.

He doesn't shove me away, which is a good sign, and so I trail little kisses to his right ear and say, "It's not a dream, Potter." In a very husky voice. I didn't know I could make that voice. Hmm, interesting. I think I just turned myself on. Or it could be because all that skin that was glowing from the moonlight is now directly in my personal space, or maybe I'm in his personal space. I wonder how I am still thinking when all the blood is rushing to other places of my body.

I reach over to him, my face now buried in his neck, and push at his shoulders to get him to lie down. He goes easily, and I crawl on top, my legs folded on the sides of his stomach. I lean back and look at the glaringly red splotch on his neck, where I was just sucking on it. I don't know if I am scaring the poor boy, although I am pretty sure I am, but he hasn't said anything. Why hasn't he said anything?

I lean back even more, until I'm sitting directly on him, and look him in the eye. His green eyes are startling in this light, and the look of fear is in them. As I look closer, I notice the desire in them as well. Well, I just have to change one of those looks, don't I?

I lean over him, just about to kiss him again when he finally says something. Or asks some things, to be more precise.

"What's going on? What are you doing here? Why are you here? Why are you kissing me?"

He looks beautiful, I must admit, and I don't have the heart to tell him my plans. To seduce him, suck him off, fuck him, and then be done with him. So I won't.

"What's going on is that I'm in Gryffindor Tower, on your bed, kissing you. What I am doing here is I am trying to seduce you. I am here because I want to suck you off, fuck you, and then spend the night with you. I am kissing you because I want to. And, might I add, I always get what I want."

Okay, so I will tell him my plans. I have never been one to skirt around the bushes.

He doesn't ask any more questions, and the look of fear leaves his eyes. I just stare at him for a while, admiring the way he looks, the way he reacts when my hands run down his shirtless chest. I really like the way I feel on top of him. I can feel him breathing beneath me. The Boy-Who-Lived and he's all mine right now.

I lean over, finally being able to kiss him, seemingly with his consent. He doesn't respond immediately, as if this is new to him. I coax his lips to move with my tongue, and now I've finally got a response out of him. He sighs, as if this is the greatest thing he's ever experienced. My tongue makes its way into his mouth, and he tastes lovely. My hands have been running over his body for a while now, but I want him to start feeling me. So I grab his hands and lead them up to my shoulders. He gets the idea and starts to run his hands all along my back, and up to my neck and into my hair.

We have to stop, for the sake of breathing. Quietly panting, I kiss him softly and say, "You taste strange." What a weird thing to say, but he does. Like, cherry, but it is… well, it's hard to explain.

He blushes softly, and that has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen. The blush even travels down to his neck. I realize I want to go there as well, so I scoot down his body and start planting kisses on his chest and collarbone. Harry starts to moan and I think it is the hottest thing I have ever heard in my life. I start to kiss a long his chin, and I notice he closes his eyes. I finally make it back to his mouth, to get another taste, and he kisses me back even more eagerly than before. I notice that he is hard, so I start to grind myself against him, almost subconsciously. His moans and cries start to get louder, even with his mouth attached my mine. I break off the kiss so I can get rid of my shirt, and he stares at me as if I'm some present that he never expected. And just when we are going to do the dirty, he has to ask me a question.

"Strange, like a bad strange?" I must have given him a quizzical look before I realized what he was asking about.

"Mmm, no, strange good. Very good, like cherry or something? We didn't have cherries at the Slytherin table tonight at dinner. So where did you get them?" And stupid me, when I could have been sucking his cock, or he could have been sucking mine, we end up having a conversation. With me on top of him, bloody shirtless and hard.

"Oh, it must have been the cherry coke I had before I went to sleep."

"Coke, what is coke?" Damn my Muggle ignorance. And I just had to ask, because I'm curious. I want some of this coke that he is referring to.

"Well, it is a carbonated drink with caffeine in it. And cherry flavoring. It's really good."

"A carbonated drink with caffeine in it, sounds pretty… interesting, to say the least. Why would you drink something with caffeine in it, right before you go to sleep? I mean, I know that that stuff keeps you awake."

Harry blushes and sort of looks away from me. I think I'm starting to really like that blush. He mumbles something that I didn't catch.

"What was that?" I ask him.

"I said it induces certain dreams of a certain somebody that I certainly thought was unattainbile until I found him on my bed in the middle of the night."

Oh.

"Wanting to dream of me, Potter?" He nods. My voice gets even lower, "Why is that?"

"Because you're everything I've ever wanted. And I've never been able to get."

Well, that's it for me. I lean over, slowly approaching his face until our foreheads are touching.

"You have me now."

And that is the last coherent sentence I said for a while. The kissing commenced, more clothes came off until we were fully naked and rutting against one another. Okay, so it wasn't as dirty as I originally wanted, but with his sweet whimpers in my ear, I really did not have the heart to have him on all fours while we did the dirty. So we fucked face to face. And while he was moving underneath me, eliciting noises from me that I didn't expect myself to make, I realized what I said.

"You have me now."

What is that supposed to mean? Right as I wondered that, my world went white around the edges as he squeezed down on me and I filled up with what he's wanted for so long. Before I flopped down and covered him with my body, the only real thoughts running through my head were, "Christ, that's the best lay I've ever had, Harry Potter wants me, and how the hell am I going to not want this again?"

And that's when he asked his question.

Whispered oh so softly, in my ear.

"Can I keep you?"

I think my heart just melted.

What am I supposed to tell me father when he asks me what I think of the suitable wives he's sought out for me.

"Oh father, that's great and all but, I think I've found a perfect one already."

"Really, son?"

"Why yes. His name is Harry Potter."

And just as my mind starts to wander and I catch myself being cynical, Harry snuggles around underneath me and doesn't wait for my answer. But he doesn't have to. He'll know in the morning. When he wakes up with me still on top of him. With me still in him.

Sigh. What am I going to tell father?

Fin

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Notes: so that is it. Um, I really don't know what to say. If any of you guys are confused, then ask questions and I'll try and answer them in the next post. Yes, there will be a next post. And like I said before, I know I suck at updating, but stay with me. Review! Even if you didn't like it, even if it was too random for your tastes. I don't know, I'm in a weird state of mind right now. But make me happy, review!