Writing
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Harry Potter series of affiliates.
Even after the dreadful episode in the hallway, Draco found it amazing how that Potter - Harry, really - remained around him like a love-sick puppy. It was not that Draco did not appreciate it. What he thought was, he has a Malfoy, the other was a Potter. Harry was… alright looking, if Draco looked deep enough.
Not that he liked boys, or anything. Of course he didn't. It was a disgrace to the name of Malfoy. It was -
True, really.
In the library, Harry set one of the candles in the center of the table and flipped open his book. The second he glanced at the page, he threw himself down on the book and took on a bored expression while staring blankly at the pages. Draco suddenly realized why Harry was so horrible in class.
Except Potions, which was still a mystery to him. Damn Slughorn. He had his damn favorites and for Merlin's sake, why wasn't he one of them?
A surge of pity rushed through Draco and he tried to swat at it like a fly but it remained. Harry was obviously stressed out - or just lazy. Draco wanted to cure it.
The parchment reached his eye first. He scratched down something on its surface.
Drake, tall and broad-shouldered with his golden silver hair streaming down his shoulders, took his pure-blood into consideration as he looked at the mutt before him.
Smirking, he passed the paper over to Harry. The boy furrowed his brows as he read, and a small smile spread over his lips as he scribbled something else down.
Draco took the paper when Harry finished. It took a while to read the scrawled handwriting that showed Potter's messy nature, but he finally got some of the words out of it.
Harold looked into his master's gaze, feeling the cold chains rub over his wrists and ankles as they did every morning. "Please," he moaned into the hard chest.
Still smirking, Draco had to admit that Harry had an ability to write trashy romance very well.
"Don't think that will stop me," Drake answered, tossing his hair. He felt along the chains that bound his slave forever, thinking of everything he could ever do. So many possibilities.
Harry scribbled frantically, trying to race Draco on the parchment.
"Yes!" Harold hissed, leaning into Drake. The warmth of the body warmed him to the core until he felt so amazingly happy that nothing could ruin it.
Once Draco read it over, he added on his own part.
The whip in Drake's hand cracked the air, finally landing only inches from Harold's chest.
Harold licked his lips.
Drake moved forward, sliding down in his chair until he reached Harold's height.
First came off Harold's pants.
Then Drake slid his own off, letting himself go.
The notes slid back and forth so quickly that their handwritings became increasingly messier and messier until they heard another voice over them.
Apparantly, Madam Pince did not want to see Harold's raging erection, for both found themselves in detention for the next week.
Of course, during the detention, the story continued.