I, Uh …Like…Your Skirt
Chapter 3: Applying Skills of Torture In More Ways Than One
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Harry Potter. I'm poor, so don't sue. I can only dream that anyone in the HP universe is gay. This story is totally fictional, and my idea. But it was inspired by the line, from Draco to Harry… "Well Potter its lovely to see you again, I uh...like...your skirt." It is from the story "A Walk Into Hell" by Sabrith Alastar. She granted me permission to use the line.
Warnings: Slash story. Draco/James(Harry). Siri/Undecided. This chapter has a torture scene at the very beginning. It's nothing graphic, but there is blood and a broken bone.
Summary: AU. Draco caught sight of a boy, one he'd never seen at Hogwarts, in a tattered pink lace skirt. It convinced him that this year would be unlike any other. DM/HP. Semi-dark! Harry.
Final Note: Yay for the third chapter coming out way sooner than the second did. Don't get used to it, my lovely readers, cause I'm on vacation due to snow. I will be going back to school soon.
After several long hours of training, James descended into a compartment in the truck. He lit a few torches in the small area before moving to a locked door.
He pulled the key from it's hiding spot and entered the room on the other side of the door, watching the figure on the other side of the room, "How are you this evening?" he asked, his voice was smooth and had an underlying feel of power to it.
The figure on the cot didn't move. James could barely hear the man breathing. He watched the obviously scared figure for a few moments, smirking bitterly to himself.
As he took a step towards the cot, the man moved so his back was pressed completely against the wall, as though he was trying to blend in, trying to hide.
"I asked you, how are you this evening. I fully expect to be answered," James stated calmly.
"I-I don't know anything else! Pl-Please let me go!" the figure squeaked, holding his hands in front of him, "I didn't d-do anything I sw-swear."
"You did plenty," James replied. His hair moved as if blown by an invisible force, his eyes gleamed in the light from the torches.
The man on the cot went quiet once more. He knew that the dark-haired boy was angry and since he was here, it only meant pain for him.
"I think we should try something new tonight. I won't have to use a wand for it," James stated, his mind running over the long list of ways to torture someone without a wand. He stopped once he came up with a suitable one for how he was feeling.
He wanted to see some blood.
Using some wandless magic, James conjured a chair in the middle of the room. He grabbed the man's arm and threw him into the chair, using a charm to keep him there.
He took a breath before grabbing the man's chubby arm, his fingers tightening on the fragile bones until he heard a satisfying crunch. The man in front of him screamed in pain.
James sighed as though it was a chore and put up a silencing charm when the screams started to annoy him. He then pulled a small knife out of his boot, grinning viciously as the blade of it reflected the moonlight.
Moving around the man, he dragged the end of the blade along slim shoulders and chubby arms, leaving behind a trail of red scratches in his wake, drawing blood where he felt like it.
"What should I do what ever should I do?" James smirked, tapping the tip of the blade against his lips thoughtfully, "I know what I should do."
He grasped the hand of the broken wrist, pushing the blade under the man's fingernail. The man's mouth opened in a silent scream.
James felt a slight restriction in his chest as he pushed the knife under the next few fingernails of his prisoner. The man's mouth opened in a scream the entire time, but the room remained silent due.
Pulling the knife back and grasping the bleeding finger tightly, he caught the man's gaze, "This is just a taste of what I'm going to do with you. This is just something I learnt today; think of what I'll be doing to you in a week."
He then turned and walked away from the man. Closing the door behind him before locking and hiding the key, he sent a wave of wandless magic through the door, releasing the man from the chair.
Climbing up some stairs and out of the trunk, he hurriedly closed the lid and locked the compartment.
The man stood from where he had been sitting, and bowed his head slightly to James, "How did it go?"
"I'm sure you were watching everything on that magical ball of yours. I need to learn more tomorrow. I need to get the information out of him by next week," James answered. He held the knife out in front of him, studying the blood that was dripping off it before wiping it off on the side of his pants.
"You could have used a cloth. Now you'll have to get rid of those pants," the elder man said exasperation evident in his voice.
James wasn't paying attention to him though. His attention was on the blood that was running down his arm. He watched as the blood moved down his forearm slowly before lifting it to his mouth and licking it off. It was his own blood, but he didn't remember cutting himself.
"Must you do that?" the man muttered, angry now as he took the knife from the boy and murmured a cleaning charm to clean the boy's clothes and body.
"Yes. I must," James growled out as he looked at his hand and saw the cut; it was along the palm of his hand. He looked at it for several minutes before grabbing his wand and muttering a healing charm.
Catching the man's questioning gaze, he shook his head and unlocked another compartment on the truck, motioning for the man to get in, "I have to go meet with Draco."
Draco was walking through the Great Hall when he caught sight of James. He watched as the dark-haired mystery walked outside before following.
"James," he called out to the other boy. He watched as a smile overtook James's face and the other boy waited patiently for him.
"I don't want to go to dinner yet. So I was just going to go and lay on a Quidditch Pitch," James explained, wrapping his fingers around Draco's when the other got close to him.
"Brill idea," Draco replied, allowing himself to be lead to the empty Pitch.
When they arrived, James fell to the ground, turning to look up at the sky. Draco looked down at the other boy for a few seconds before James finally asked, "What?"
Draco looked down at the seemingly innocent boy, amusement evident in his eyes, "Only you could expect a Malfoy to do something as plebian as lay on the ground without a blanket or anything of the sort."
"Then conjure up a blanket," came James's simple solution.
"But you were the one who brought me on this outing. So you should conjure me up one," Draco replied.
James allowed himself to be distracted by the blonde's legs. He moved his hand under the dress pants to wrap around the boy's ankle, rubbing along the skin, "But you are the one who wants a blanket. I'm perfectly fine with being plebian."
Draco gave a pretend sigh of annoyance before moving away from James's distracting hands and conjuring a blanket. He watched as James rolled onto it, "You just didn't want to conjure a blanket did you?"
"Oh, I would have been willing to stay on the ground, but since you conjured up such a big blanket, I figured that you'd be okay with sharing."
Draco settled down on the blanket next to James, lying down with his arms folded under his head and staring at the darkening sky. He lay still as James softly put his head on his chest, nimble fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt.
James moved until he was curled into a ball, his knees no doubt poking into Draco's hip. He just kept his head on the blonde's chest listening to the steady heartbeat and allowing himself to relax.
He listened to the sounds that were drifting around them. In the distance he could hear chatter from the students who were having dinner, closer were noises from the forest.
The two boys lay in silence for many long moments, until they were interrupted by some Gryffindors. Draco recognized the group by their voices long before the group was on the Pitch, "James," he muttered, not wanting to move but not wanting to face the group, "There's some Gryffindors heading this way."
"Don't care," James replied. He moved his hand down Draco's chest, drawing lazy infinity figures around the buttons.
"Just know that they don't like me very much," the blonde sighed.
James nodded his head, never taking his attention away from the designs his own fingers were drawing. He could tell the moment that the Gryffindors caught sight of him and Draco, they had stopped talking.
James didn't stop himself as his hand moved away from the buttons on Draco's shirt. He moved his fingers down to the blonde's hip and threaded them through the belt-loop, holding tightly and sighing.
Draco gasped when James's fingers touched the skin above the waistband of his pants. He held his breath for a few seconds before the other boy moved his hand away slightly, letting the dress-shirt fall back into place.
Moving one arm from under his head, he draped it along the dark-haired boy's waist, laying his hand flat on the other boy's stomach. He could feel tight muscles rippling under his hand as James's chest rose and dropped. His eyes closed and tried to ignore the noises that were now coming from the Gryffindors.
"Oy! Malfoy, you have to leave the Pitch."
"You heard the man, James, we might as well head in for dinner," Draco stated, looking down at the dark head of hair.
James shook his head, his fingers tightening on Draco's hip, "I don't wanna go back in there yet."
The Gryffindors had made their way over to the couple. They were still a few feet away, but they had obviously heard James's statement. A red-haired boy spoke up, "We are about to play a football game. And we are going to use the Pitch, so you two need to get off it."
James looked up at the rude red head, "I'll get up when I'm well and ready. So you better just move along and leave us alone. There's plenty of room. I don't think that you'd been needing the whole Pitch anyways, there's only seven of you!"
"I don't know who you think you are but-"
James cut the boy off, "I don't care. I'm not moving." He settled his head back down on Draco's chest, listening to the other boy's heartbeat once more.
Draco glared at the youngest Weasley boy, "He's right, Weasley, there's plenty of room on the Pitch without us having to move."
"What is he? Your Junior Death Eater Bride?" Weasley snapped. He took in the sight of James's hand on Draco's hip, "I never realized that you were a pounce Malfoy."
"Shut it Ron," came the angry voice from behind the red-head.
James turned to see two of the Gryffindor boys glaring at the red-head; one had his arm around the other's waist in a possessive fashion. James turned his attention back to Draco, "Let's go inside. I'm getting kind of hungry."
"Sure," Draco replied. He watched at James got up from the blanket, stretching his arms high above his head. The tanned boy's shirt moved upward, exposing a scar covered stomach.
"You want some help up?" James asked, holding his hand out to the blonde boy after her finished stretching.
Draco took the boy's hand and allowed himself to be pulled from the ground. He found himself pulled against the other boy's chest, into a soft kiss, "Let's go before they wake-up from their stupor," he murmured against the soft lips that were touching his.
Walking into the Dinning Hall, the two boys saw that the evening post was just arriving. Three owls James recognized made their ways towards him. The smallest owl barreled into his stomach with a soft thud, and James pulled the letter off his leg, letting the small thing fly away quickly.
One of the other two owls was holding a well-known red-envelope, one that was easily recognized as a howler. Grabbing the other letter from the last owl, James slipped the two regular envelopes into his back pocket before facing the music of the red howler.
"James Sirius Black, I have half a mind to come to that fancy school of yours in Scotland or England or wherever it is and tan your hide! Not telling any of your friends that you were moving back to that horrid country until you were already gone! You're just lucky that your dad managed to talk some sense into me over the telephone. I was ready to pack up everything! You better be writing me the instant this howler is finished! I will be expecting to hear from you every week," the howler paused for a second, before continuing in a much calmer voice, "I hope that you made it to school easily and make many friends you little twerp."
James watched as the howler tore itself up before bursting into flame. He had a small smile on his face.
"Who was that?" Draco asked, as they made their way to the Slytherin table.
"A friend of mine's mom from America. She saw herself as my mum, because she watched me when I was younger," James replied. He sat down beside Draco and started loading his plate with food.
As they started eating, Draco felt a foot touching his leg. One glance at James told him who it was; the dark haired boy had a small smile on his face. He wasn't shocked when the foot soon wrapped around his leg, staying there for the rest of the meal.
After finishing their meal most of the Slytherin sixth years started back towards the dungeons, chatting along the way.
Settling into the common room, many of the students pulled out their homework and got started on it. James did the same, pulling his transfiguration book out. He leaned towards Draco, "Can I see your notes from Trans?"
"Here a go," Draco replied, handing James a rolled bundle of notes.
James unraveled the bundle and started the process of copying them into his notebook. He allowed himself to admire the elegant scrawl, looking at his own chicken scratch. He smiled slightly at the differences between the two.
"What are you writing on?" one of his year mates asked.
"It's a notebook. Way easier to store and keep up with than bundles of notes," James replied, not taking his eye off the notes he was copying, "I hate quills so I use pens."
Draco took on of the extra pens James had laying on the table. He pulled the lid off it and started writing on a spare piece of parchment that was lying on the table, "The inks inside it?"
"Yeah. You can even buy refills. It's more convenient than quills and inkwells. I knocked over about twenty inkwells before I even started school, so I just used pens," James replied, watching as Draco wrote with the pen.
"They are more convenient than a quill. And there's no inkblots," Draco seemed to be studying the pen closely.
James felt himself biting on the top of his pen lid as he studied the notes in front of him, his attention not on Draco anymore. He wrote a few more things before rolling the notes back up and playing them beside Draco.
The blonde was now using one of James's pens on the Potions assignment. James smiled before turning to his own potions assignment.
Rest of the night went quickly, the group helping one another with the assignments, and revising for the next day's classes. James caught himself smiling at Draco more times that he cared to count.
Soon the group headed to their dorms. James stripped and changed into some pajamas before moving to Draco's bed. The blonde held the blanket up for the dark-haired boy to get in.
James snuggled close to Draco, feeling himself falling asleep easily.