I winced as a corner of one of the books I was carrying dug into a bruise on my rib, and adjusted my hold on the stack. Late-night library cataloging was one of the tamer punishments for fighting; not that I'd been fighting. Getting my arse whooped is more like it, but after the Ministry had granted me leave to return to Hogwarts to make up for seventh year, I couldn't afford to be violent. Even if violence was levied against me.
My stack of books thumped on the table once I reached the K's, and I groaned. The bruises on my face ached in protest of my grimace, which only made me grimace more. Relentless bullying at the hands of my peers was a right sight better than Azkaban, but it still wasn't easy. No less than I deserved, honestly. A sigh leaked through my lips as I started reshelving from the stack.
Grim amusement at the irony of my situation curled my lips as I worked. The summer of regrouping and repairing the damage of the war hadn't been as full of relief as it ought. Sure, the Dark Lord was gone for good, my bastard of a father locked up, but the silence in the manor had nearly driven me mad. As it was, I'd started trying to carve the Dark Mark out of my arm, but now that I'd returned to school, my self-harming was being done for me. Didn't even have to lift a finger, and every few days when I'd be feeling particularly worthless, the job was taken care of by my generous peers.
My brow knit in a frown as I slid the last book from the stack into the shelf, but just as I was about to return to the cart for the next stack, a quiet sound reached my ears. No one had permission to be in the library this late except for me, and I whirled at the sound. Curiosity drew me towards it as another, similar sound echoed from a distant aisle. I crept as silently as I could towards it, and suddenly, I recognized what I was hearing. Shock froze me for a moment as an unmistakable moan made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The nearer I drew, the more surprised I grew that someone had the nerve to have sex in the library. Who in their right mind…?
As I snuck closer, quieter sounds reached my ears. Filthy, wet sounds, ones I recognized all too easily. When I finally peered around the shelf of the aisle they were in, I froze. My brain couldn't quite wrap around what my eyes were telling it, but in the pale moonlight, the scene was undeniably Harry fucking Potter and someone on their knees before him. He leaned his head back against the shelf, eyes sliding shut as an oath broke on his lips, and my mouth went dry.
Holy shit. I should've left. Should've ran. But I was glued to the spot, eyes dancing from his blissful expression to the way his chest heaved to the head he held before his hips. His breath grew more ragged as his hands fisted in the other person's short brown hair, and it was at that exact moment that I realized it was a bloke. Holy shit.
I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't think as Potter started forcibly fucking the other guy's face, and just as his groans were growing more urgent, he suddenly locked eyes with me. Run, run you idiot, he sees you! My legs wouldn't move. Surprise was evident in his eyes, but it lasted only a heartbeat before he blew his load down the guy's throat with a strangled cry. His eyes squeezed shut as he gave over to his climax, and finally, I ran.
I ran so fucking fast. My heart was already racing before I ever moved, but my head started to spin at the dizzying pace it accelerated to as I fled. McGonagall was gonna have my head for shirking my duties, but I couldn't be arsed to go back and finish. No way in hell.
Holy shit.
I didn't sleep well, as usual, but when I'd made my way down to the Great Hall before anyone else - also, as usual - my morning routine was interrupted. Of course, Potter dropped onto the bench opposite me at the Slytherin table as the first rays of dawn barely peeked through the windows. His expression was grim, but when I only stared blankly at him, he grimaced and clicked his tongue.
"What do you want?"
I blinked. Still not quite awake, and only barely catching up to the fact that he was speaking to me.
"Sorry?"
He frowned. "Don't play games with me, Malfoy. How can I buy your silence?"
Potter's heel tapped impatiently on the stone beneath the table, slightly shaking him as he glared at me. Buy my silence? Now it made sense. His irritation was admittedly amusing, but it's not like I wanted anything from him.
"What good would telling anyone do?" I shrugged one shoulder and took another spoonful of oatmeal. When I glanced back up at Potter, he seemed surprised, but mistrustful.
"I don't want word getting out, and you hate me," he explained, as if I were slow. I had to snort.
"You saved the world, Potter. Hate isn't necessarily the word I'd use anymore." Not for him, anyway. Myself, though? He didn't respond, and I choked back a snicker at the dumbfounded expression in his eyes. I would've bet ten galleons he was struggling not to gape at me. I sighed. "Are we done here?"
The suspicion returned to his eyes, breaking apart his shock, and he leaned forward over his elbows. "I don't trust you. I'm not leaving with just your word. So spit it out, what. Do. You. Want."
Fair point. Why would he trust a word I say? Still, there's nothing… The memory of his face in ecstasy flashed behind my eyes and I froze. Actually…
"Use me instead."
My words hung in the air like the many candles over our heads, but I felt no humor at Potter's shock this time. He actually did gape at me, and my eyes flashed to his lips, recalling the sound of his pleasure ushering from them.
"Sorry?" he finally asked, looking like I'd grown a second head. I leaned in to mirror him, pushing aside my breakfast and meeting his eyes steadily.
"Use. Me. Instead." I repeated evenly.
Several emotions flashed across his face, and he glanced away. Turned back and eyed me, frowning. Scoffed, then sobered.
"Why?"
I lifted my shoulder in another shrug. "Because then I'd be implicated, too. You wouldn't be the only one fucked if word got out."
He shook his head, still clearly in disbelief, and I started to worry if maybe I just wasn't his type. Or if he just still hated me so much he wouldn't even let me suck him off. It wasn't like I was asking to pitch; there was no way in hell he'd let me, even if I did feel inclined to blackmail him. His eyes narrowed slightly as students finally started filtering into the Hall, and I nearly recoiled at how directly he stared into my eyes. Nearly.
"Fine. Meet me in the Room of Requirement at midnight. Don't get caught."
Without another word, or even waiting for my agreement, he was up on his feet and stalking away from the Slytherin table. I just stared after him, speechless. What did I just sign up for?
