"Fucking Potter and his insistence to find out what's not bloody fucking, god damn true!" Draco stormed into the empty Slytherin common room in a rage, his delight at Snape's anger completely diminished. He began pulling off the costume Blaise had let him borrow, and Pansy stood there watching him worriedly.
Draco unclasped his belt and whipped it out of the loops of his jeans. He threw it against the nearest wall and glowered at it as it hit the wall with a resounding smack and fell to the floor. Pansy jumped. "Draco, it was only Potter. You don't have to get so angry about--"
"Pansy, he's a bloody disease! He should die already!" Draco turned to her, looking tired and frustrated. "I want to deal with this on my own! Potter shouldn't know about Snape!"
"You told him about this too?"
Draco made his way over to the couch in front of the extinguished fireplace and fell down onto it, looking miserable. He tossed the hat onto the small table in front of him. "He figured it out himself. On accident."
"You mean--"
"Like I said," Draco snapped, shooting his glare over at her, "I'm not lying. He heard Snape and me one of the times it happened, and confronted me about it in the hallway. I hate him."
Pansy sighed. It was a bit easier to believe Draco now; the story seemed to be coming together to make it sound nearly genuine. "Maybe you should just let him help you then. You obviously don't think it's working now."
"It's working! Isn't it! Snape looked furious!"
"Yes... but, how is that going to keep him away? If he thinks I'm your girlfriend, you think he'll stay away from you?"
Draco gave an agitated sound before he brought a hand over his eyes. "I don't know. I don't see how Potter can do anything you and I can't."
"He's the savior of Hogwarts, of course. Why couldn't he? Besides, Snape hates him. Maybe if you get Potter to help you, Snape would busy himself too much on killing him instead of sexually harassing you." Pansy shrugged, feeling a little helpless on this subject. She really hated Potter herself, but Draco didn't seem too happy on having her as help either. She was still having a hard time with the idea of Snape and Draco, which was pretty revolting.
"Fine, if you think it's such a good idea, I'll do it!"
"Draco, you were the one--"
"Save it, Parkinson." Draco stood up from the couch, snatching his hat angrily from its place on the table. "I'll just go now. He may not be at his common room yet."
"Be careful, Draco. You know what'll happen if the other Slytherins catch wind of this."
"I'll just tell them it was your fault, which it is," he snapped.
"Oh, please... it was merely a suggest--"
"Didn't I say to save it? I'll be back soon, alright?" And with that, Draco brought the hat down over his eyes and straightened out his shirt before heading over to the common room entrance. A brief glance was sent back toward Pansy and a moment after, a resounding slam was heard throughout the room.
"You better do Draco good, Potter," Pansy muttered quietly.
Draco progressed down the corridor at a pace quicker than normal, intent on finding the bloody boy-who-lived before he decided to completely give up on not minding his own business.
He felt somehow defeated, however. It was over how he hadn't been able to stop Snape himself, and now he had to seek help from the almighty help-giver. Though he assumed that it would be worthwhile. Pansy was right; Snape may divert all of his attention onto Potter after finding out he was trying to stop him from touching a certain Slytherin. It was perfect.
Nearing the Great Hall, Draco turned down another corner corridor, only to find himself facing a body of black. He blinked only once and in the next second, he was being pulled into a small space behind a tapestry. His back was pushed roughly against the wall, his head hitting against it as well, causing him to give a startled gasp.
"And exactly what sort of performance was that, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's voice cut through Draco's mind. Eyes widened, any anger or courage in him vanishing like it'd never been there in the first place.
"What performance, Professor?"
"You know what I'm referring to, Draco." Draco saw the man step closer and instantly tensed up. He brought up his arms to push against Snape's chest.
"I'm not comfortable being this close," he replied softly, "And that was nothing. Just a small thing that me and Pansy sometimes do."
"I had it in mind that you were with no one."
"I... I am." He tried pushing again, but Snape didn't move. The man was staring at him with a hard, angry expression.
"Well," Snape drawled, "Public affection is uncalled for, do you understand?"
"Yes." Draco looked down, hoping this was the moment that Snape would let him go. It wasn't. He felt hands roaming down his waist.
"The way you've dressed today... it certainly draws attention." The Professor's voice had lowered to nearly a whisper. It made Draco uneasy, and he could feel sickness rising in him again.
"I..." Hands ventured further south, resting on either side of his lower waist. Draco swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to fight back panic. He was starting to consider screaming. "Please, stop."
"Make one sound for help and consequences will be grim, Draco," Snape said this as a dark smile adorned his features.
"Don't Professor... I can't..." And the sudden cold pair of lips against his own caught him off guard. The contact had been hard and painful, and Draco began to hear a dull pounding in his head. His arms struggled to shove the older man away.
The next thing he felt were the professor's hands moving to the waistband of his jeans. A startled sound was given as Draco fought to stop him, but the only thing it accomplished was allowing Snape access to his mouth. He felt the man's tongue slip past his lips to explore the rest of him, then heard him give a pleased groan.
Draco thrust forward when he felt Snape's hand start working at his zipper. It didn't help in pushing his hand away, but made Snape part from the kiss and smirk at him. "Should I move faster?"
Draco tilted his head back and closed his eyes, urging his breathing to even itself out, "Don't... I haven't done this before... just let me go."
"First time?" Snape questioned, sounding surprised. "And here I've been imagining what you do in your spare time." Suddenly, his zipper was yanked down all the way and a large hand was pressing against him. Draco gave a helpless whimper.
"I don't want this," Draco pleaded.
"Don't you?" Another push was given, and Draco bit his lip, trying to keep quiet.
"I really don't," Draco repeated, more loudly that time. He gave a shove to the man's chest for the third time, once again failing to move him. Snape pushed again, the palm of his hand moving a bit too forcefully. Fingers began to slip beneath the one part of clothing that separated his hand from skin. "You're hurting me... please don't..." Draco begged.
"It stops hurting after you get used to it, Draco," Snape replied calmly, his hand wrapping around the boy.
That seemed to snap Draco out of his state of fear and into one of utmost panic. He grabbed Snape's arm with both hands, pulling it roughly upward. "Stop doing this! I don't want to right now!" Draco was breathing in with a bit of difficulty by that point.
"You'd like to another time?" Snape questioned, letting his hand release Draco and drop at his side. His other did the same. He watched as Draco did up his jeans again, flushed, humiliated and fairly sick.
"If you don't do anything to me now..." Draco finally said, glancing up for a moment. He swallowed heavily, moving out from behind the tapestry. Snape followed.
Draco had his back to the man now, his hands restlessly and uneasily repositioning his hat before he started fingering idly at his sleeves. Snape came up behind him, much too close. "I'll do you later then. Another detention?"
Draco shivered. "I suppose," he choked out. He didn't want the Professor touching him anytime, but he felt he had no choice if he wanted to get away now.
"Splendid," Snape drawled. "Good day, Draco." And Draco looked back for one moment to the sight of Snape walking down the opposite hallway, robes billowing behind him. He let out a breath of air, trying to calm himself. He still needed to find Potter. And he was needed much, much more.