Chapter warnings; LIME WARNING, mentions of humiliation in a sexual context, language, slight sexual sadism and minor violence.
The Social Riot Machines – 8
An unequivocal feeling of trepidation burned in Harry's stomach the morning after he had struck his deal with Jasmin Ameru. As he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast it was as if everyone in the room was staring at him, as if they knew what he was going to be doing. Judging him. It was more than probable that some of them were actually inconspicuously –conspicuously- observing him. Paranoia was an easy emotion to feel in his situation. If either of the two involved in the project was injudicious then he could be faced with a whole new level of abuse. He didn't know if he could even tell his friends, he was sure Hermione would at least refrain from saying anything too insulting, Ron on the other hand was much less tactful, and was likely to vomit the first thing that came into his mind. It was something that he had debated about internally for hours the previous evening, but hadn't come to a worthwhile conclusion. Nervously, he sat opposite his friends, his stomach churning far too much to eat. If anyone noticed, they didn't comment.
Without warning a hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he twitched, unable to shake the feeling that he was about to be discovered. Harry looked around and saw Angelina Johnson –that year's Quidditch captain- standing behind him. He had to assume that it was her hand he felt on his shoulder, but couldn't turn his head far enough to see.
"Quidditch practise is in twenty minutes, don't be late," she instructed, and was about to walk off, but Harry stood.
"Actually I need to talk to you about something, so could we walk to the pitch together?" Harry asked anxiously.
He had also spent many hours thinking about Quidditch. On the one hand, he loved the sport and wanted to continue playing, however he had so much to do that he felt it wouldn't be fair on the team if he wasn't giving it his absolute best. In the end, he decided that the best course of action would be to just come clean and admit he wanted to quit. He had missed his opportunity to do it before the try-outs, because of his detentions, and regretted it immensely. It would now be an inconvenience to find a new seeker before the first match of the season.
The captain's office clearly hadn't been aired out for over a year and smelled quite musty. Both Angelina and Harry wrinkled their noses at the odour.
"What did you want to talk to me about then Harry?"
"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I can't be on the team this year, there's just too much for me to do. I'll help you find a replacement if you want, I'm sorry for the trouble," he offered ruefully.
Angelina considered him for several minutes, and he began to shift uncomfortably on his feet. Harry felt compelled to elaborate further.
"It's OWL year and I really need to concentrate on my studies, in addition to which I've got five boys back at home that are counting on me to get through this year in one piece." Personally, Harry didn't feel that either reason was particularly good, plenty of students continued to play Quidditch throughout their OWL and NEWT years, as Wood had done, but he doubted many of them had to keep up with what was actually going on around him.
"It's okay Harry, plenty of students drop the teams when they hit the bigger work load, and I'll appreciate the help with finding a new Seeker, when are you free?" Angelina asked patiently.
"I'm free pretty much all the time, well, I do a lot of work that isn't to do with school, so I might forget, tell me a day and I'll put a big poster up in the music room so I don't forget," he mumbled sheepishly.
"In that case, Wednesday at half past five," Angelina said absentmindedly.
Harry guessed that it was his cue to leave, and hurried out of the room. It was a fairly crisp Saturday morning, and Harry could feel goosebumps erupting over his flesh. He found he didn't particularly want to go up to the music room, which was what he was planning on doing originally. Hagrid was still mysteriously absent from the school, so Harry couldn't visit him, and he had already completed all of his homework, something which had astounded Hermione when she had inquired about it the previous evening. As he stood and deliberated, a petite barn-owl swooped down from the sky and offered him the package clamped in its beak. Harry stroked the bone coloured feathers and was saddened that he didn't have anything to give the bird, he recognised it as Jasmin's which meant he had received something from the boys. The owl –which Harry believed was called Gekota- was of an easy temperament however, and took flight once more, seemingly indifferent to Harry's lack of treats to give. Curiously, he opened the package and discovered five cassettes. One was labelled 'lead', another 'rhythm', the third 'bass', fourth 'drums' and lastly 'all'. He guessed that they were recordings of songs he was going to receive soon, or for ones that were already with him. Either way, it would be useful to be able to hear each instrument separately. He felt rather like a caged animal, far too restless to do anything productive, he just wanted to move and pace about. He wanted nothing more than to be far away, where he could live as he pleased. It was the first time he had ever felt so uncomfortable at Hogwarts, not even the previous year when he had been entered in the Triwizard Tournament had he felt so bad. Despite feeling so agitated, he was also exhausted, the physical and mental exertion since term began was starting to wear him down. He wanted to talk, and laugh, to feel unrestricted. It was a horrible sensation really.
Draco desperately needed some time away from every one of his influences. He could barely think with his mind locked in what he believed to be the most idiotic battle with itself. On the one hand he wanted to spend more time with Potter, learning more about music and gleaning tiny snippets about the boy's life, but on the other hand his friends were already starting to get rather dubious about his frequent absence from the common room. Obviously he wanted to avoid suspicion about his alliances from his housemates if at all possible. He wanted a comfortable life, not one of constant torment like Potter seemed to be experiencing that year.
He walked through the grounds rather listlessly, heading towards the lake, he believed watching the calm waters would help sooth his nerves, and it probably wasn't an activity that would attract the cynicism of his friends should they stumble across him whilst he was thinking. As he neared the pebbled shoreline, he noticed a pair of shapely legs clad in white fabric so form-fitting that that the trousers were almost bursting at the seams. Draco rounded the corner into the secure and secluded alcove, his eyes following the slightly crossed legs, past the slim waist and concaved stomach and paused briefly on the boy's t-shirt. Emblazoned across the chest were the words Luna Sea. It was a very snug t-shirt, and Draco thought it looked good coupled with the wonderfully tight trousers Potter was wearing. In Draco's opinion, the boy looked like he could easily surpass the god of sex. He did think it was a bit silly though, as he took in the sight of the boy once more, sleeping out in the open in just a short sleeve top and –if the small grey smudge near Potter's crotch was anything to go by- having a wet dream. Composedly, he sat beside the Gryffindor and observed him. It was more fun than it should have been, watching both the gentle waves lapping at the shore and the boy sleeping peacefully beside him. Another thing he believed he was getting far too much enjoyment out of was seeing that little grey blot growing larger and larger with each minute. Potter was certainly a lot more erotic than Draco remembered, not that he had ever attempted to think about Potter in more than a 'mortal enemy' sense, but now that he was, it was rather pleasurable.
Draco did wonder what it was that Potter was dreaming about: memory or fantasy. Actually, he didn't know how far the Gryffindor had gone with his boyfriend, though he was willing to bet it was further than just kissing. But what might that further be, he pondered curiously. Would it be something small, like a love-bite or something more serious, maybe actual sex? Draco honestly had no idea. Surprisingly, Potter didn't actually talk about his love life, just mentioned Jake a few times. It was far too easy for Draco to imagine the two with their limbs tangled in a messy, passionate embrace. The very thought made Draco's heart pound in his chest. He didn't really know what to with himself, he felt as if he were intruding however at the same time the sleeping boy was so arousing that he didn't want to leave. He couldn't help but stare at Potter's legs in those stunningly tight trousers. Absurdly, he was perilously close to reaching out and stroking the toned thigh. It was so very close, and without thinking he extended his arm, his fingers just a hair's breadth away from the porcelain white fabric. He hesitated, and finally stretched the last millimetre, fingertips connecting with the rough fabric. Draco let his hand rest on that hot leg, and he closed his eyes, feeling the throb of Potter's pulse at his palm. He shifted slightly, surprised at the jolt of pleasure that shot through him. Peculiarly, he hadn't even realised he was aroused. Carefully, he removed his hand from Potter's thigh. He was amazed that Potter hadn't stirred at all. Feeling rather bold, he ground his palm against his half-hard length. He bit his lip, trying to prevent any sound from escaping. It would be utterly mortifying if Potter were to see him in his current state. With his eyes fixed on the growing grey spot on Potter's trousers, he continued rubbing his fingers over the bulge in his own. The fear of being caught spurred him on, though he didn't know why.
Petrified that he was about to be discovered, Draco slid his hand past his belted waistband, shivering at the frigid temperature of his fingers. He wished he could keep focussed on the delectable body before him, but couldn't as he began stroking his now fully erect cock. It felt so good, so naughty and forbidden that he didn't even want to stop. Without checking if Potter was still asleep, he unbuttoned his fly. He groaned against his hand as the frosty air caressed his scorching flesh. Draco didn't even comprehend that he was making a dangerous amount of noise as he pumped his aching length. Hot and sticky fluid spilled down his member. On a whim, he released his cock and brought his fingers to his lips. Draco licked the pearly white droplets from his fingers, the salty, slightly bitter taste filling his mouth.
"As erotic as it is waking up to find a sexy blonde jerking off beside me, it's hardly appropriate," Harry mumbled tiredly.
Much to his consternation Potter continued to stare at him. Draco didn't know what to do, he couldn't tell if Potter wanted him to stop or carry on. Why was the idiot so unclear with his signals.
"Draco, I can leave if you want," the boy laughed.
Draco could feel his face getting warmer from embarrassment, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Shamefaced, he looked down, humiliation spewing forth as he noticed he was still hard, possibly harder than he had ever been in his life. A small movement to his right caught his eye, and he was shocked to find Potter unzipping his trousers, his tight black underwear contrasting beautifully with the startling white fabric.
"W-what are you doing?" Draco asked, his voice awkwardly broken.
He didn't think it could get any uncomfortable, but apparently it could.
"Jeans dug into me while I was asleep, just want to be able to breathe for a bit," Potter replied amusedly. "Okay, here are your options because you clearly don't have a clue what's going on in your head. Option number one; you put your dick back in your pants, and we don't talk about this. Option number two; you continue wanking. Either way I'm not moving. I will say however, I believe you should choose option number one. I don't know why you're masturbating right next to me of all people, there are better places to do that even if you are feeling a bit daring, the bathrooms for example, or the Quidditch changing rooms. If you do decide to finish, I'm going to watch, but that's not because I feel any sort of thing toward you. Think of it like reading a porn magazine. You're here and quite frankly it's entertaining."
Draco could feel his throat constricting, and much to his dismay he felt as if he were about to cry, he had no idea what he should do, but he couldn't ignore the burning need that was just pleading him to continue. Unconsciously, his hand drifted toward his cock, and a split second later, he made his decision. His flesh was still hot and hard in his hand, he was surprised his erection hadn't lost any life in the interim. Draco guessed that he possibly –more than likely- had a bit of a thing for being embarrassed. Now undeterred by the discomfiture of the situation, he gripped his length tightly. He knew it thrilled him to have Potter awake, watching him, even though the blasted boy had admitted that he didn't feel anything in return. Eagerly, he began caressing his flesh once more, silently encouraged by the Gryffindor that he had a crush on. He shifted onto his knees, and pushed his trousers and underwear down his thighs, exposing his pale skin to Potter's intense stare and icy wind. Shuddering wildly, he pitched forward, the frantic tugging at his cock warmed him slightly, and he pursued his orgasm even harder.
"If you want to feel really dirty, you'll put your dick away and cum in your pants. Yeah, that'd do it, I'm sure of it," Potter suggested cheekily.
Despite the desperation his body felt, craving its release, Draco paused and analysed the situation. Potter was right of course, that would make the act feel even more illicit, but the practical implications were what Draco couldn't grasp, how on earth was he supposed to create enough friction to actually get anywhere? Though he still wasn't quite sure what he was doing, he yanked up his trousers and underwear, and hissed at the sensation the cloth sliding over his hypersensitive flesh produced. He stroked himself over the fabric, his thoughts scattering as he neared his completion. Vaguely, he could hear the sound of Potter shifting, and suddenly he was pulled into a tight embrace.
"Keep going but hurry, I just saw Parkinson heading this way," Potter murmured in his ear.
Draco was honestly terrified -if Pansy found him like this he would be ridiculed, and quite possibly worse, if word got back to Voldemort.
"I can't! Not with that abhorrent thought!" Draco whispered back furiously.
"Bite down on something and keep rubbing," Potter instructed forcefully.
Draco had no idea what the boy was planning on doing but complied anyway, biting down as hard as he could on the back of his hand. Without warning, there was an odd, yet sensual and painful sensation at his collarbone, simultaneously coupled with Potter seizing his nipples between his calloused fingers and squeezing. Hard. Draco had never experienced an orgasm that was quite so spontaneous. His teeth dug even harder into his own flesh as he fought to keep from crying out, in pleasure or pain he wasn't sure which. Blood rushed to his head, and he was panting, it was most likely the best Draco had experienced.
"Good, now stand up and kick me in the face," that demanding quality was still in Potter's voice, and Draco found he was powerless to disobey.
He stood, his legs trembling dangerously as he lifted one foot. He wanted to ask if Potter was sure, but Pansy was so close that he had no real choice. Swiftly, he connected his shoe with Potter's face, a pang of remorse racing through him as he heard the painful sounding thud it delivered. Quite thoroughly disgusted with himself, he fled to Pansy's company, crowing miserably at Potter's predicament.
Harry just sat in silence, his cheek smarted, but he knew it was the best thing to do. Just days ago Hermione had pointed out that the two were being far too civil with each other. He did feel a shred of regret however, he hadn't intended on touching Draco, or aiding him in any way, seeing as he didn't feel any real attraction to the boy, other than holding the opinion that Draco was sexy. It was doubtful Draco would make anything of the outcome, though Harry really did wonder why the Slytherin was masturbating next to him in the first place. He supposed it would be a reasonable yet bizarre deduction that Draco was attracted to him, maybe he didn't understand his own sexuality? Harry had no idea and was almost certain the blonde wouldn't actually talk to him about it, even if Harry did try and question him. Feeling decidedly less edgy than he had in days, Harry picked up his parcel and began to make his way back to the castle. He didn't want to share what had happened with anyone, though he resolved to tell Jake about the incident. He hoped the older boy would understand. Briefly, he did wonder how he was going to tell his boyfriend what had occurred, but then remembered that he had talked about Draco in one of his previous letters, and so it was a judicious guess that if the letter was worded correctly, Jake would in fact be able to piece everything together –he was rather intelligent after all.
As he entered the Entrance Hall, he was waylaid by Professor Snape who apparently needed to see him, and once seated in the man's office, Harry began to feel confused. As far as he was aware he shouldn't be in trouble, unless Draco had been forced to tell Snape about what had happened, albeit a rather fabricated version of the proceedings.
"Mr Potter, this morning Miss Granger informed me that you were feeling rather… homesick I guess is probably the best word, so I believed it would be wise to ask if everything is okay," the Professor offered awkwardly.
"I'm feeling a lot better now Professor," Harry replied calmly, "I guess I just wanted a hug from Jake or something, not that I'm a particularly clingy person. In a roundabout fashion I got what I desired. I suppose I should inform you that Draco might appear later complaining that I bit him… it's true, so take points if you must."
It looked as if Professor Snape didn't trust himself to question Harry further, and so dismissed him without another word.
He knew he should be embarrassed by the rather obvious cum stain on his white jeans, but he just couldn't find the energy to be bothered, instead he made his way up to the music room with the box he had been sent. To begin with he put the box away and pondered the situation. He knew wizards had some form of radio, so it was possible they had cassette players too. Curiously, he went to investigate, and was ecstatic to find out that there was indeed an equivalent that he could borrow indefinitely, as no one else from the student body seemed to know of its existence.
Excitedly, he pressed the play button, and listened as the familiar sounds of Required Malfunction filled the room. The first tape he listened to was the one that had the entire band –sans himself of course- playing, and from it he was able to deduce that the contents of the box were indeed songs that he was going to be receiving in paper form at some point in the near future. He recognised the songs though, because he had heard them a few times, but hadn't gotten around to learning them himself. Thinking about the band made him remember Ezra's suggestion, and he couldn't help but balk at the idea. He seriously wondered how on earth he was going to pass as a female, he was certain it wasn't possible. He would be given away in a second. He glared down at the t-shirt Ezra had given him, secretly cursing the boy for knowing about such an absurd part of the Japanese music industry. Part of him wanted to believe what the boy had told him was a lie, however the letter seemed far too in depth for Harry to truly accept that line of thought. With a sigh, he rewound the tape and listened to it again, finding some weird sort of solace in the company of the noise produced by his absent friends.
Hey guys, this was tough to write, I was planning on keeping the entire chapter in Draco's perspective, but I had an interesting daydream so I switched to Draco and wrote. It worked though ne?