Humbled: Part 6
"So what you're saying is," Draco snarled with all the ferocity of a Bond Villain only just realising just how stupid and easily defeated he had been, "You've got a map that shows you all the secret tunnels and all the passwords AND you've snuck into my common room on more than one occasion?"
Harry grinned triumphantly, "Yup."
"You utter bastard!" Draco cried in outrage and promptly kicked Harry in the shins.
This, while having the quite happy consequence of stunting the Gryffindor's mirth, did nothing to alleviate the sense of fruitlessness and anguish felt by the fuming Slytherin.
"So all this time, all this time when I've been sneaking around doing my utmost, my very sodding best to be the most devious, sneaky and downright evil student in school you've not only had that bloody cloak with which to hinder my escapades, but you could bloody outdo me, a fucking Slytherin with just a piece of sodding parchment! It's not fucking FAIR!"
The usually pristine and pale Slytherin had reduced himself to a red gibbering mass by the time Harry had finished rubbing his mistreated shin and he cast a critical eye over the blond.
"Y'know, Malfoy, you should really try to calm down. What fun would it have been if we were completely unevenly matched? Or at least mismatched in your favour, this way we stick to the stereotype. You're the pointless yet essential bad guy and I'm the utterly wonderful and basically perfect good guy who always comes out on top." He grinned then bit his lip in consternation as the porcelain features before him purpled with rage.
"Pointless?"
Harry reached out to daringly pat the furious blond on the shoulder, "Well no, not pointless per se, but... umm, that is..."
"In contrast to you, who somehow always, ALWAYS gets what he wants and is universally adored, I am, as you so sweetly phrased it, pointless?"
Harry, never one for diplomacy no matter how hard he tried, considered this for a moment.
"Yeah, that's sort of what I meant... OOOOF!"
Draco's fist ploughed most satisfactorily into the softness of Harry's belly and the Slytherin smiled as the air rushed from the brunet in a great, surprised 'whoosh'.
"There," he purred smugly, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk, "How's that for pointless?"
Harry, eyes watering, managed to straighten up sufficiently to glare up at the insufferable Slytherin. "What the FUCK was that for?" he gasped, "Fuck, Malfoy, if you're going to overreact like that every time I say something you don't like or best you in any way then I think we'd be better off going separate ways because I, for one, would rather live to see tomorrow."
Draco let Harry's words settle a moment before a smile spread insidiously across his face. "So you admit I'm a significant threat to your life then?"
Harry gaped.
"How? How did this happen again already? Alright so I can accept that you dislike being pointless... sorry, being called pointless, I'm sure you have your uses beyond annoying the shite out of me and, lest we forget, now trying to kill me. But HOW did we suddenly jump from us working together almost peaceably to your sudden assumption that I get everything I want and that I must therefore be destroyed?"
Harry held a hand up to silence the blond as he opened his mouth to respond, "By the way, I should add that if you're planning on continuing the whole 'Death to Potter' thing then yes, you ARE pointless because certain people's family members and evil twisted parent murdering bosses have that one firmly covered already."
Draco snarled then, unaware of how the expression made him look like a tantrum throwing five-year-old with a homicidal streak. "Don't you dare talk about my father, Potter. You don't know a fucking thing so just don't so much as speak his name to me."
"Yeah, that's right. I don't know anything, nothing at all about parents... and why's that? Oh, only because your daddy's bestest mate KILLED mine!" Potter's face had whitened with rage, Draco noted dully as he shot forward to clench his fists in the Gryffindor's collar, teeth bared as he shook Harry for all he was worth.
"Shut up! Just shut up, Potter... shut the FUCK up!"
It wasn't a great comeback, but then slamming his mouth against Potter's two seconds later wasn't the best idea either. His hands somehow shoved their way past Potter's robes, inching their way up inside his shirt to claw and knead imploringly at his shoulder blades, yearning to draw the other boy closer and tighter to himself, moaning in horror as he realised the whimpering noises he heard as Potter rubbed hard against Draco's pelvis actually came from his own mouth. Tearing their mouths apart both boys took a hasty step backwards, Draco leaning against a tree momentarily to catch his breath as Harry stood, panting, and glared at the other boy.
"Ok, now THAT one was definitely your fault," he grumbled, startled when Draco merely nodded in response. Harry quirked an eyebrow, "What? You're not even going to try and deny it?"
Draco bit his lip and shook his head mutely, eyes closing in defeat before jerking back open in surprise as warm fingertips grazed his brow.
"Nope," Harry murmured, pressing his hand against Draco's skin, "You don't appear to be sick and yet you're quite blatantly not yourself... what's with the sudden change in behaviour, Malfoy?"
"I suggest you remove yourself from my personal space, Potter."
Harry grinned but didn't move away. "There now, that's better. You sound more like yourself already," he crooned mockingly, seemingly unaware of Draco's slowly heightening colour and shortened breath, Harry's fingers still stroking and smoothing the skin at Draco's brow.
"Potter," he spat with difficulty, "You really need to move."
Having had more than enough of Draco's inherent melodrama by that point, Harry rolled his eyes and did his best to look thoroughly unimpressed. "Oh really?" he drawled.
"Yes," Draco whimpered in desperation before leaning upwards to press his mouth firmly against the Gryffindor's once more. Considering the total lack of violence preceding such an act, Harry's slack mouthed surprise was understandable to say the least, at most it was highly beneficial to the Slytherin attempting to crawl inside Harry's mouth tongue first.
Ignoring Potter's squawk of surprise, Draco wound his arms tightly about the brunet's neck, letting himself be overcome by the odd sweetness of this new kiss. There was no blood, no biting, no clawing, no sarcasm or screaming, just Harry's quiet murmur of assent as he let his body sink into Draco's, the tree now bearing both their weight, the only witness to the soft gasps and lingering caresses at its base.
Harry drew slow circles around Draco's lips with just the very tip of his tongue, loving the sensation of the Slytherin's slick mouth sliding beneath his, blood surging at the tiny little whimpers his actions seemed to produce and the erratic juts of Draco's hips against his.
"Y'know," Harry mouthed against the damp skin at Draco's jaw line, "We didn't even fight first this time, that's got to be progress." Draco shuddered as Harry's mouth moved lower to trail hot kisses down over the beating veins at his throat.
"Unlikely, Potter, if... if anything this is far, far worse than before."
"How...mmmm... god you taste so good just here... Mmm... uhh why, why do you say that?"
"Cos, uhmmm..." Draco gasped and bucked against the hard body pinning him to the tree trunk, Potter's fingers steadily unbuttoning his shirt with Draco mewling gently as the cool night air swept over his skin. "I, uhh, that is, before we uhh, had a build up, y'know, rage into... into this, but this time, I... I ah... I just had to kiss you."
Harry's response was distinctly muffled by his mouth being attached firmly to the hollow of Draco's elegantly prominent collarbone. Draco stabbed his hips forward, he told himself, to remind Potter to not speak with his mouth... occupied.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, dragging his lips from Draco's pulse point with some difficulty, "I just said that surely it's better this way, the spell is running its course and we're past needing the stimulus of having to pound each other senseless first... umm..." They both blushed, minds racing at the connotations of the word 'pounding', but neither dared to consider why it affected them.
"So you're saying," Draco turned his head to lap at the fingers cradling his jaw, "That, umm, if we say, give into this right now, and, ummm, just go with it for a little while... then... ummm... then it'd be better for us in the long run?"
Harry lifted his head a second to properly ponder the question before dipping his head lower the nuzzle the starkly defined contours of Malfoy's slim marble-esque chest. "Yup," he murmured hotly against Draco's nipple.
"Oh... that's good," Draco muttered back before engulfing two of Potter's fingers with his mouth, suckling them needfully.
Harry shuddered. He would have better shown his appreciation for this had he not been quite so distracted by running his tongue back and forth over the pebbled hardness of Draco's small pert nipples. Entranced by the tickling sensation of the stiff, pink flesh pressing into his tongue, Harry let his mouth fall wide and sucked as hard as he could against the sensitive peak, smiling against the damp flesh at Draco's inarticulate and startled cry. Kissing his way wetly across the skin between, Harry latched onto the other nipple with a determined smirk and the beginnings of a stiff neck from stooping, therefore it seemed only natural to him to let himself sink slowly to his knees before the blond.
Draco, who had, until that point, been enthusiastically nibbling and suckling at the two fingers he'd seized, blinked suddenly, watching his supposed nemesis. Potter's height made it unexpectedly easy for him to continue lavishing his attentions on the blond's aching chest. Harry paused infinitesimally before moving to take deep, biting sucks along the length and breadth of Draco's sternum, laving his ribs with a hot eager tongue. Draco also became aware that Potter's shift in position allowed him greater access to other areas, as well, as Harry pressed his free hand down hard over a jutting hip bone and placed his mouth directly over the Slytherin's bellybutton. Draco gasped at the sudden wash of damp, heated breath against his naval, trembling as Potter slowly tilted his face to meet Draco's eyes, smiling mockingly at the hitch in Draco's breath as he slowly dipped his tongue into and then back out of Draco's navel.
Harry could not believe just how unbearably bad he felt to be kneeling like this at Draco's feet. He knew there should be an element of concern at so prostrating himself before the boy who had only moments ago decided to force the air from his lungs via his fist, but now, clearly holding the blond captive with his own desire, Harry was helpless to resist his urges and to be honest he had no real intention of trying. He kept his eyes steady on Draco's as he pushed gently at the blond's swollen lips with his already dampened digits, sliding them gently into the warm, moist recesses of the Slytherin's mouth at the same moment as he slowly pushed his tongue into the slight indent of Draco's navel, before withdrawing and repeating, blushing inexplicably as he did so. Draco, despite his earlier worries over Harry's being quicker on the uptake, was no fool. Pursing his lips instantly, he sucked fiercely at the invading fingertips before letting his tongue drag backwards over them as they retreated, moaning gently as Harry matched his pace, stroke for suck, increasing and decreasing the tempo at Draco's will.
Draco was shivering. He couldn't quite fathom why, considering the fire currently racing through his skin, yet somehow he could not stop trembling under the watchful gaze of the boy kneeling at his feet. Potter's free hand was moving now, rubbing steady circles over his hip and abdomen, such a light caress yet somehow implicitly worshipful, like every swipe of his skin over Draco's was a privilege, Potter's pupils dilating further yet as Draco's skin peaked and perspired beneath his touch. His blood was surging now, mostly downwards if he were honest, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why that or any of this behaviour should be a problem, why it wasn't the most natural thing imaginable to let himself go hollow cheeked with suction, desperately trying to hold both Potter's fingers and tongue circling, flickering and invading his flesh just a single moment longer. Blinking rapidly, he noticed the soft light of amusement in the Gryffindor's gaze and flushed, certain that his very desperation must be evident in every laboured breath he took. Spite sparking quickly in his eyes, he deliberately nipped at Harry's fingers as they pulled out, hard enough to hear the brunet's sudden intake of breath and hissed response at his belly seconds before Harry Potter, the boy hero himself, smiled up at him with white vicious teeth and sunk them into the tender flesh at the lower edges of his navel.
Draco's cry burst through the night air, echoing as it bounced back off of trees, rocks, and the castle walls before it died out, leaving the blond horrified and thrusting out, helpless against the abrupt sensations boiling in his gut, shuddering as he tried to cease the rocking motion his hips begun as Potter's teeth pulled gently, tongue soothing the hurt away even as the brunet blinked in shock at the Slytherin's reaction.
Harry wanted to push his fingers through Draco's skin. He knew it was by no means a normal urge, in fact he rather thought it verged on sick, but as he watched the skin reddening around the blond's navel, teeth marks already turning pink under his quick tongue, he watched his fingers flexing on Draco's moon pale skin and wanted to just let his fingers slide inside him, watch them sink into that white flesh and make him cry out like that, like a hurt, wild thing once more. He let his mouth settle over the indent again, lapping softly, watching, always watching Draco, shuddering uncontrollably at Harry's hands and mouth, licking frenziedly at the pads of his fingertips, afraid to break each other's gaze. Slowly Harry drew a circle round the circumference of the sore, damp skin, tickling and dipping with his tongue, feeling the gentle surge and prod of Draco's hips against his upper chest before suddenly closing his lips over the blond's navel and sucking violently, desperate for a mark there, his mark on Draco's soft, white skin.
Harry blinked.
Draco's second wild cry hung above them on the nights breeze, the shaking blond now having seized the hand on his face, lips turned fully to Harry's palm, but what truly captured Harry's attention was the pulse of heat so neatly thrust upwards against his throat.
Slowly he pulled back, the hand that had soothed and stroked at Draco's chest and belly sinking lower the press hard against Draco's belt buckle, the heel of Harry's hand flush against the ridge of heat and want pushing beneath the black of Draco's school trousers. Leaning forwards, Harry lay his temple against the damp, abused flesh of Draco's bellybutton as his eyes lingered on his latest discovery.
Draco let his lips slip from Potter's palm, the unbearable hitch and burn of his breath in his lungs too much for the close proximity to Harry's skin and upon glancing downwards, he found himself dumbfounded by the sight of the brunet extending unsteady fingers to the zip of his trousers, wet, red lips, slowly licked in anticipation.
Draco whimpered.
"P, Potter?" he breathed unsteadily as the brunet froze, blinking owlishly in the moonlight, and shaking his head suddenly.
"Potter?" Harry turned his eyes upwards to meet the blond's panicked and urgent eyes before slowly stroking his palm upwards from Draco's groin to chest, rising alongside him until they stood face to face once more.
"Think it's time we tried the fighting thing again?" Harry murmured, blushing as he pulled his spit slick fingers from Draco's grasp.
Draco cleared his throat, as much from disappointment as embarrassment. "Um yeah, I guess so," he muttered, "Time to go get help?"
Harry nodded fervently. "Oh yes," he smiled deprecatingly, "Quickly."
With unsteady fingers Harry reached out to re-button Draco's shirt, eyes fixed on a point between his collarbones.
"Potter?"
"Yes?" Harry muttered, distracted.
"You were about to suck me, weren't you?"
Harry stilled, eyes frozen on his hands on Draco's shirtfront, breathing harsh with shock and Draco was delighted to see a full blush creep up over the Gryffindor's throat and into his face.
Harry lifted his eyes slowly, his blush deepening as he took in Malfoy's smug smile before dropping his gaze back to his task, continuing to button up the shirt and uttering brusquely, "Was thinking about it, yeah."
Draco's smile broke into a smirk, a purr seeming to rise up and outwards from deep in his chest. "Good," he murmured and leaned in to reclaim Harry's mouth with a triumphant growl.
Before Harry could so much as squeak he found himself with a mouthful of eager Slytherin, Draco's tongue pushing through and over his lips, sharp teeth nipping at his tongue in turn and before he knew it he'd backed Draco up against the tree again, hands inside his shirt, thigh between his thighs, murmuring, mewling, crying out, thrusting, whimpering and...
Harry threw himself backwards with enough force to trip and sprawl against the ground, scrambling up and away with a choked laugh of exasperation as he noticed the way the blond smirked as he'd lain helpless on the earth beneath him.
"NO, no," Harry said, shaking a finger at the pouting blond, "No, no, no!"
Draco pushed out his lower lip in a deliberate moue of disappointment. "Well, you're no fun," he pouted.
Harry laughed harshly, stepping forward to gesticulate in wild disbelief, "I thought we were trying to stop? What the FUCK are you playing at?"
The blond shrugged carelessly, "Sorry, Potty, just thought it was the best way to get myself a blowjob fast."
His smirk was roughly pushed aside into alarm as Harry shoved him backwards, his spine connecting hard with the trunk. "Actually," Harry glared, fluttering his hands at where he'd torn the buttons off Draco's shirt in his haste to reopen it, "I think you'll find that's the best way to get yourself fucked against a tree, Malfoy."
Draco gaped, astounded by the vehemence in Potter's tone and affronted by the offhand assumption that he would allow such an event to occur.
"Oh, I don't think so, Potter," he spat, shoving back at the snarling Gryffindor only to find said git an immovable object.
"I do." Harry slid a purposeful, and admittedly, more muscular thigh between Draco's and raised his brows in challenge, not disappointed when Draco heaved his body weight forwards, face pressed close and snarling into the Gryffindor's.
"In your dreams, you disfigured freak."
Harry smiled, a thin line of mockery in his usually gentle countenance.
"Hey, I'm only finishing what you started, Malfoy."
"I was only after a blowjob, scarhead!"
Harry leaned in slightly, tilting so that his lips moved directly over the sensitive flesh of Draco's earlobes, "Now how was I supposed to suck your cock with your tongue in my mouth, Draco? Didn't think of that, now did you?"
Draco wasn't sure which he took greater exception to, the mocking, snide tone of Potter's voice or the sinful fizz of want his lips against his ear created.
"Fuck. You," he seethed, shaking his head to force Potter away, stiffening as he noticed the light gleaming in Harry's eyes at his words.
He struggled, feeling distinctly ill at ease with the Gryffindor abruptly in control and gasped in horror as sudden, shamed arousal burst through when Harry seized his wrists and held them hard against the tree, Draco's struggles reduced to no more than wild writhing against Harry's body.
"Gladly," the Gryffindor murmured and Draco whimpered in fright, only to find the brunet had released his wrists and had stepped a pace or two backwards.
"Thing is, Draco," Potter began, face flushed with anger and something that looked a little like guilt, or rather what Draco imagined guilt to be, "Thing is, I'm not into rape, so calm down already just... just don't think you can go pressing my buttons just because for one second I thought about going down on you. I'm not myself. You're not yourself. Merlin's beard, we've both already tried the beating each other senseless option tonight, I really think we should skip the prick tease section and go straight to finding the cure now, hmm?"
"Prick tease?" Draco snarled, fighting the shivers at the brunet's confession of considering performing fellatio on him.
"Yup."
"I am NOT a tease, you fucking git, YOU are!"
Harry cocked a brow in such a way that had Draco mentally scrolling through his patented expressions, itching to call him on copyright for that one. "Oh really, Malfoy? Because, of course, straight after I'd finished sucking you off you were just going to beg to return the favour, now weren't you?"
Silence and a severely displeased twist of the mouth were the only response from the Slytherin.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now come on, let's go find bloody Neville so we can sort this out and I never have to think about you in that way again."
"Oh and which way would that be, Potter?" Draco snarled, falling into step beside the now slowly sauntering Gryffindor, "The way where you're itching to blow me or the way you tried to fuck me against my will up against the sodding tree?"
Harry stopped, quickly enough to have Draco slam into what should have been the brunet's back had he not already spun round. A swift hand grabbed at Draco's belt buckle and yanked him that step closer so their mouths nearly met, angry silver eyes now met by knowing green.
"Y'know," he drawled casually, deliberately not flinching as Draco did when the words caused their mouths to brush, "The reason you're angry is because either way you'd have fucking loved it... and you know it."
Draco bared his teeth, mouth parted to let fly his many scathing, raging retorts on that subject, but found himself hastily silenced as Harry nipped swiftly at his lower lip before stepping back, hands in his pockets and a warning look on his face.
"Don't make me prove it," he whispered and Draco swallowed hard, knees weak, nodding before he'd considered his reaction.
Harry walked over to where he'd originally dropped his broom and cloak and they both fell into step again, walking in contemplative silence for a few minutes before Draco abruptly muttered, "I bloody hate you."
Harry grinned at him and winked, "Feel better for saying that, do you?" He laughed before yelping suddenly as Draco's foot shot out and neatly tripped him.
"I do now."
"Now, Neville, stop crying, I told you... everything is going to be fine..."
"Then why did you tie me up?"
Hermione's brow creased in exasperation. She'd been switching between good cop and bad cop for the past half hour, but it wasn't entirely convincing when you had one person playing both roles and, quite frankly, she was starting to feel just a tad schizophrenic.
Neville sniffled miserably. Hermione had been nothing but super mean ever since she'd cast the leg locker curse on him and levitated him down to the Great Hall where she'd set up a charm to shine a blinding light into his eyes at all times, the rest of the hormonal mob standing guard on either side of the door. He whimpered quietly, trying to not cast longing, woeful looks to where he knew Seamus was guarding the other side of the doors. All he wanted to do was forget this entire night, forget how hot and itchy his skin felt watching Harry twist Malfoy's tongue like that, or how tight his throat and chest became whenever Hermione waved her wand at him with that look in her eye.
A cool breeze from the windows wafted over his tear damp skin and he shivered, wishing he could wrap his arms about himself for warmth, but Hermione had spelled them to the arms of the chair in order to better his concentration.
It was all rather pointless really. He had less than no idea why the spell had reacted quite that way, it certainly didn't mention anything like that happening in the directions, but then it had only been intended for one person so...
Neville trembled. What if the outcome was permanent? What if because of him, Harry had to snog Malfoy like that for always? He squirmed lightly in his chair, hoping Hermione wouldn't notice how tight his trousers had just become, biting his lip as the notion struck him that he was quite possibly enjoying his friend's misfortune.
He quickly replayed the vision of Harry's misfortune through his mind and for the first time that night, he felt a glimmer of hope, recalling Harry's ecstatic moans as Malfoy ground their groins together. Perhaps Harry might forgive him after all?
He smiled happily, eyes cast at his feet, wondering if maybe after he'd apologised to Harry and everyone had become used to them rutting in public then perhaps Harry and Malfoy might let Neville watch. He shivered, skin very tight and hot across his body as he reflected that maybe Seamus might want to watch, too... maybe they could even watch it together?
"And what are you smiling at, Neville?"
Neville's spirits came crashing down.
"N... nothing, Hermione. I was just thinking."
Hermione glared at him, skin aglow with frustration and suspicion. "Oh really? Well I should certainly hope so, Neville, after all you've been of no real help so far." She leaned down, invading Neville's personal space and breathing hotly against his face, smoothing his hair away with a too firm hand. "And you do want to help us, don't you, Nev?" she crooned, making Neville shake and shudder with unease.
"Oh, umm of course, course I do, Hermione... I uhm I'm just not sure how..."
Hermione rolled her eyes in her mind, biting down on every harsh retort that poured into her brain, patting his arm in an effort to not wrench it off.
"Well, Nev, Neville, my good dear lovely Neville... if you would only tell me exactly which spell and/or potion you used, well then that would be simply tremendous and... Neville, why are you crying?"
Neville's pudgy shoulders heaved and rocked as he dipped his head towards his chest. "But you don't understand," he wailed, "The spell was only meant to hit just one person, it was never meant to react this way, Hermione, I can't tell you how it ended up like this, I only know that there was blue smoke when there should have been green and from there everything is just madness and kissing and touching and before long there'll be puppy's being kicked everywhere and it's all my fault and my Gran'll kill me for sure..." He trailed off, sobbing too hard to breathe or speak, hot, quick tears pouring down his cheeks.
Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands, stalking away a few paces to keep from shaking the distraught boy.
"I'm sorry, I'm just, just, so... so... sorry..."
A warm palm rested gently on Neville's shoulder and Hermione rounded in complete shock as the gentle voice pervaded through the disconsolate wails bouncing around the Great Hall.
"It's ok, Neville, it'll be alright, I promise."
"H, Harry?"
Draco pouted, the affect somewhat lost due to the tragic fact of his invisibility, but he felt it his right to be suitably annoyed and yes, alright, were he to be perfectly honest, thoroughly peeved.
Not only had Potter bested him out in the forest, first by spotting the connections between their behaviour and the blasted spell, but also by being the best able to fight off the affects. Draco, however, to his extreme chagrin, still burned and pulsed with persisting lust for the bespectacled little twat.
His body throbbed and shook when he recalled the slow, deliberate interest in Potter's eyes as he'd stroked pensive fingers over the fastenings of his trousers, setting a war between the pulsating, wondrous craving in his gut and the urgent, desperate need to best Potter, to beat him or just, gods, just once match him in any way possible.
He watched Potter sneaking up to the open windows of the Great Hall, slipping in when Hermione turned her back for just a moment, the cluster of students milling at the closed doors too absorbed in their own hopes for the unlikely pair's capture to notice the Gryffindor sidle over to the apparently bound cause of their affliction.
He'd been squinting at Potter's bloody enchanted map for at least a quarter of an hour now, watching Potter creep forward, forward until finally he slunk into the Hall. He would have left his precious Firebolt outside the windows, Draco knew, for they had decided that Draco could not carry both the cloak and the broom whilst closely monitoring the map and now he was stuck with the arduous task of standing, impatient and nauseous as he listened to the varying lecherous theories spouted by Finnegan and his cronies as they guarded the doors to the Hall from without.
He watched as Potter stayed close, the blasted and wholly envied map displaying him as crouched, hunkered down beside the prone prat, apparently still sobbing upon the appearance of his heroic housemate. With any luck, Potter would be able to win over his friends, either of them would do. If they could convince Longbottom to flee with them then the spell could be undone or, failing that, there was a slim possibility that without both of them as a enticement before her that Granger might yet see sense and come their aid, but frankly Draco doubted it. He smothered a snort, too close to give vent to his scorn, he'd seen the look in Granger's eyes before, it was the same crazed look his father wore when discussing the day he would receive his rewards from Voldemort. Draco sighed, attempting to further keep his father from his mind. He knew his father was more about the thrill of power than he was about the cause, but that would not prevent him from following said cause to the bitter end if he believed it would grant him the high position and power he so desired as a reward.
Something in Draco's gut lurched and fell at this thought. His father would be rewarded for Potter's demise, and then Draco would be left alone and Potter... Potter would be...
He shook his head fiercely, wincing as the action caused the cloak to whisper, stirring faintly, thankfully beyond the sight of the hormonal horde, trembling at the sudden awful idea of a world without Potter. Such a thought seemed impossible yet he knew it to the greatest wish of his father's master. An expected surge of hatred rocked him, his bones aching with an odd clenching desire to hurt enemies, formerly his allies, protect him who they'd all so despised, and it left him queasy and light-headed in the light of such a rush of feeling.
The spell. Obviously, the spell had made more of an impression upon him than he had realised. It had reformed his opinions and beliefs, swayed him towards the only person he had ever truly despised in his lifetime, made him cherish what previously he had... Draco's brow furrowed. Had he ever truly wanted Potter dead? Did he want him hurt and bleeding, lost at the hands of the Dark Lord? Surely he must have desired it once or else why would he have hated him so? His memory was faltering under the influence of whatever warped curse had been flung at him by that oaf Longbottom. That had to be the problem. His senses were so clouded by this mad fixation with the Gryffindor that he could no more fathom his former hatred than he could his current...
He blushed, mind as close to saying 'love' as it was 'lust', neither word being of any comfort to the pensive Slytherin.
He shuffled, glaring again at the map he had less than no intention of returning, impatient and uneasy.
Potter should have had the doors open by now.
"H, Harry?"
Neville had stammered his name in shock, shuddering further yet beneath Harry's hand as he laid it on his shoulder before dissolving into yet more heart-rending sobs, attempting to twist around in his bonds to better weep against his friend.
Hermione, however, displayed no such sentimental joy at his appearance.
"Where is he?" she'd barked, striding forwards to shove imperiously at Harry's shoulder with one hand, her other better occupied by prodding her wand into the underside of Harry's jaw.
"Who?" Harry had squeaked more from alarm than from any form of deceit or distraction tactic.
"Malfoy," she spat, her eyes shooting daggers dipped in arsenic and coated with razorblades, "Last time we saw you both, you were joined at groin and mouth and now he's nowhere to be seen, what's going on, Harry? Where is he?"
"Ummm," Harry patted Neville on the back in an absent-minded fashion, eyes flickering over to the blocked doorway and back to Hermione's deeply suspicious face, "We, uhm, we fell out."
A perfectly plucked if threateningly bushy eyebrow jerked upwards.
"Do you really expect me to believe that, Harry?"
"Ummm, yes?" he quipped, smiling hopefully.
The wand jabbed deeper into the underside of his throat, pinching painfully into the tender flesh there as Harry grimaced. "Umm no, " he amended swiftly, "Did I mention that I really meant no just then?"
Hermione sneered at him and Harry was forcibly put in mind of the unseen blond just beyond the doors, waiting to be granted entrance. Harry stifled a wince as he reflected that neither would thank him for the sudden recognition of such a profound similarity between the two.
"Then, dear Harry, if you're answer is 'no' then you still have yet to answer my question... I suggest you do so. With all due haste." Harry hissed, eyes narrowed on his significantly disturbed friend, as the wand tip seemed determine to break through into his mouth and up through his skull.
Neville whimpered at his side and Harry nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief as he recalled his 'mission'. He needed to free Neville. If he could just keep Hermione talking then he could free Neville and then, somehow, Draco needed to get through those doors. But one problem at a time.
"Merlin's beard, Herm, get off me a second. What have you done to poor Neville?"
Wrenching his head from the wand's prodding pain, Harry stooped, his hands busy unbinding Neville's arms and legs from the sturdy confines of the chair.
Hermione pouted, folding her arms sulkily, and again Harry forced back a grin at the resemblance.
"We were just having a brief chat on the subject of unknown curses and potions, weren't we, Neville?" she prevaricated, smiling with hard eyes at the poor, exceptionally nervous boy who merely whimpered in response.
"Yeah. Sure thing." Harry grinned wryly, loosening the bonds at Neville's ankles as the chubbier Gryffindor rubbed feeling back into his sore wrists. Harry patted his knee, soothingly, and nearly started as an idea, not a good one, but an idea nonetheless, happened upon him.
"Poooor Nev," he crooned softly, rubbing his palm in circles over Neville's substantial knee, "What has she done to you, mate? Hmm? Pooooor Neville."
Hermione watched this odd interlude with a suspicious gaze, her eyes betraying confusion but none of the fear and bewilderment as shown by the poor individual himself. "Harry," she began in a menacing, inquisitive tone, "Where did you say Malfoy was?"
Harry continued to smile gently, stroking casually at Neville's knee and lower thigh before affecting a start, a confused blink before responding with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Oh I don't know, we got to the other side of the lake, fought a bit, kissed a bit and then all I could think of, all he could think of, was how this could have happened, how it occurred and then," Harry smiled adoringly up at Neville, clamping down on the guilt that bubbled in him at the surprise and almost pleasure in his clumsy friend's eyes, "We both knew, somehow, that it was you and we both started hurrying back only, " a shy smile here, false modesty as he glanced downwards to break Neville's gaze, "Only I had my broom, so I'm here first I, I was faster, Nev, I found you first."
Neville blinked owlishly, "But... but why? Why hurry?"
Harry swallowed, hoping to high heaven that the gaping crowd by the doors were watching, and let his hand steal upwards to cup a rounded, hamster-like cheek.
"Harry..." Hermione growled warningly although for her sake or for Neville's Harry wasn't sure, "Harry!"
He fought to keep his mind blank, to keep it wiped clean of guilt and misgiving, but even as he knelt up, eyes flickering closed with relief, he saw bright blond hair, brighter eyes and a slash of blood red lips in a face the colour of moonlight.
Harry sighed, trying and failing to not relish the image and so, surrendering to the vision, he kissed Neville.
At the first squeal of surprise from within the hall the crowds without stood still and listened in desperate hope for sounds signalling the restart of the night's prior events and Draco tensed in anticipation.
At the first scream of shock, the first outright cry of 'Harry's kissing Neville!' Draco saw red.
The doors swung wide just seconds before Draco stormed forward, pushing past the streaming horde of gawking students led by an outraged and apparently wounded Finnegan.
"Neville," the Irish boy whispered faintly and stopped in the centre of the room.
"POTTER!" Draco bellowed, charging to within mere feet of where the brunet knelt kissing an apparently petrified Longbottom.
Draco tore off the cloak, striding forwards to seize Potter by the shoulder.
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" he hollered, dragging the oddly smug looking brunet to his feet.
"Hullo, Draco," Harry smiled, blushing faintly as Hermione beamed maniacally at the Slytherin's apparent jealous rage, Neville passing out with a terrified whimper towards the snarling blond. "Sorry, Nev," Harry murmured before hauling the overcome boy upright. Taking a firm hold of the silenced and sagging Neville, Harry winked at a suddenly comprehending Hermione before holding his wand aloft. "Accio Firebolt!" he yelled and with barely more than a whip of wind and magic the broom was before them.
Hermione screamed, the crowd gasped in horror, Seamus smothered a sob of dismay and with a grunt of exertion from clasping two other boys to him, Harry leapt onto his broom and burst away, through the open doors and out into the night sky.
The Firebolt creaked and groaned with effort, barely making it twenty feet off the ground and moving at a decidedly sluggish pace by comparison to its usual speed. Harry tutted sadly and smoothed his clasping fingers over the wood handle. "There, there baby," he crooned gently, "Just a little farther away and I promise we'll all get off and let you recover."
Draco watched as Hermione burst from the school, followed closely by the rabid masses and sighed, he had an arm wrapped about both Potter and his unconscious and apparently vengeful friend and already it was obvious that the broom was lagging. But there were more pressing matters at hand.
"Potter!" Draco yelled and Harry craned his head round, close enough for their faces to be mere inches away as they both clung onto the prone boy and each other. Draco snarled and pressed his face closer still to the inquisitive and shocked looking brunet. "You complete and total bastard!" he yelled, words whipped about him in the night air, but apparently the Gryffindor heard him, an amused grin shining back at him.
"Jealous, were we?" Harry shouted back with far too much awareness and downright smugness for Draco's peace of mind. He sought for an adequate response in his mind.
"Fuck yes!" Draco roared back, and mashed their lips together with as little dignity as possible, pulling back with a groan at the ecstatic cheer from below.
Harry blushed and grinned in, what seemed to the thoroughly, he'd decided, spell addled Slytherin, to be a completely endearing fashion, straightening the abruptly tilting broom and tightening his grip upon the blond.
"Later," he mouthed and blushed harder, realising that with Neville aboard there would be no need for later, but still Draco grinned and smirked back before turning to check a suddenly stirring Neville.
Neville groaned and hoped briefly against hope that the arms around him were Seamus' before daring to let his eyelids flicker and open.
Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was looking down at him, holding him, apparently kidnapping him via broomstick.
"Oh," Draco drawled, releasing his hold on Potter to turn to steady Neville, "You're awake."
"Yes," smiled Neville, only it was not a smile because, half-awake, half-asleep and at least fully conquered by the night's events, Neville was not quite himself.
"Yes," he said again, and promptly pushed Draco off of the broom.
"No!" Harry cried, desperately trying to wheel about on the hopelessly overused broom and Neville blinked in confusion at his friend's apparent distress, "Draco, NO!"
And so Draco found himself, most unpleasantly, tumbling into the night once more from yet another great height, but this time it was excusable for Draco to scream because this time no one followed Draco down to save him and so he plummeted, helpless, eyes wide and focused on Harry's horrified face, the Gryffindor's anguished cries echoing after him down into the darkness.
TBC