Hello my lovelies! A huge thank you for all my readers, reviewers, and fans. This was a fun chapter to write, and I'm sorry its a little late. There's happy moments, there's sad, there's humour, there's sexual tension. Enjoy! :D
By the way, I do not own Harry Potter, I am not writing this for profit - I'm writing it to cure my own boredom, to have a little fun, and hopefully, to entertain others. J. owns Harry Potter, definitely not me, or it would have ended very differently :)
Chapter Twenty seven – Silenced
Draco glanced around for his Potter, yes, his, taking in the other drooling students with a grimace. It was Monday. Exams were months away. So why the hell was the library packed with rejects, whispering behind books and torturing their minds with attempts to think? It was a study period, a gap before dinner. One would have thought the majority of students would be frolicking outside, enjoying the heat, copulating. Whatever they found enjoyment in.
No, they were stuffed in the library.
Brilliant.
He made it way around the room, smirking to himself as students hushed as he passed. Even Slytherins halted mid conversation, throwing him a wary glance before continuing. Good. As they should.
Pansy had made a remarkably insulting comment yesterday, after he had returned from the hospital wing with a throbbing arm. Mended, but uncomfortable to touch.
Her comment, intended as benign, implied he was growing soft.
Soft.
Imagine that! Him, a Malfoy, soft! It was ridiculous!
He had just attacked the Womping Willow with nothing but a transfigured butterknife. And she had the audacity to call him soft? His name was etched neatly next to Potters; now the Gryffindor only needed to sketch in a heart around their names and it would be complete. He couldn't help the bemused smirk; he really was amusing, even to himself.
Pansy's comment made him feel quite ill, though. He was supposed to be poised, a figurehead; feared.
Draco growled to himself, throwing a glare at a random Hufflepuff. The third year squeaked, and fell off of his chair. Tch, soft indeed.
Take that, Pansy.
He finally found Potter, in the most secluded corner; he had to be at the only table without company in the library; there was a seventh year group eyeing off the other half of his desk as Draco walked. The vultures.
Potter shifted, glancing around as soon as Draco's eyes landed on him; he always seemed to know when Draco was near; it was as if he had cast a spell that activated only when the blonde was near. Impossible, or course, but peculiar as he continued to catch him approaching.
He grinned, kicking out the nearest chair.
And there it was.
The reason Draco could never be called 'soft'.
He had mutilated someone that was once a friend, just so the brunette could continue to smile.
And he would do it again in a heartbeat.
And Potter just smiled, and tried to make him feel better about it. He had been an animal, the monster his father had always envisioned, the one You-Know-Who had always wanted…it was sickening. He couldn't eat. He slept, and the memories haunted him. He was back to drinking Dreamless Sleep potions, like in the start of the school year.
How could he smile at a monster like him?
He was supposed to be sprinting in the opposite direction right about now, throwing up protection spells despite his 'ban' on magic.
How could he continue to smile?
It just made Draco covet him more.
"It's Monday, Potty. Sweet Potty, why are we here?" He hummed when he was closer, smirking as Potter blushed that lovely shade of red, and attempted to ignore him. He was working on his languages again, trying to learn as much as he could. What was he on today? Chinese? It would be interesting to hear the mumble he was going to spew out at the end, all in an English accent. It was going to be entertaining, in the least.
"You're the one that wanted to meet." Potter replied dryly, pen poised to write. His eyes, however, never left Draco's face. Those bloody emeralds were going to be the death of Draco, that was a certainty.
"I don't recall that." Draco smirked, eyes wandering to the mountain of books Potter had sprawled around the table. "Besides, Malfoy's don't 'meet'. Others flock towards them." He ignored the snort of amusement when a medical book caught his eye. This one wasn't tossed about the table like the others, an undignified heap; it was squashed haphazardly in Potter's bag, the top of the binder barely visable.
The binder, however, contained a wand crossed with a bone; Mungo's symbol.
Potter was doing research.
Draco wanted to grin.
"Of course, laden with trinkets and riches as gifts."
"You've been to one of our galas?" Draco queried, keeping his face a genuine curious. Of course, people didn't really bring gifts to Malfoy Manor, but Potter didn't know that. As it was, the brunette only threw him a perplexed glance, trying to hold a grin in place before turning back to his parchment.
He still hadn't actually written anything.
"We're here as a distraction." Draco eventually drawled truthfully, watching as Potter smiled amused, and continued flicking through his book. He really should start paying attention to what Draco said; he rarely lied, these days.
And truly, they were.
Pansy and Theo were currently raiding the Hospital Wing for Potter's belongings, to stash away in the Slytherin Dormitory. He couldn't very well avoid them if his things were there, now could he?
Blaise was on a different mission.
"So, you didn't do your charms homework again."
Draco blinked at that, leaning back in his chair and observing his Potter. Interesting topic, this. He didn't reply, forcing him to continue.
"That's the third time now."
"Keeping tabs on me?" Draco drawled, raising his eyebrows to invoke that beautiful blush again. "A kinky sort of fetish. Give me a few hours, I suppose, and I can-"
"Git." Potter smiled though, continuing on stubbornly. Stupid Gryffindor trait. "Seriously, though, what's up with that? Not enough time, stress, or-"
"I couldn't be bothered doing a paper on how flicks, or jabs, or swishes, determine the effectiveness of the wand. I really, truly, couldn't give a flying fuck." That shut up Potter, who finally wrote down a word. A single word. "What about you, Harry?"
Draco grinned as he caught his attention again, "Does your wand enjoy flicks," He leaned forwards, flicking Potter's knee, but dragging his finger up along his thigh, smirking as he shifted slightly in his seat. "Jabs," He inched his hand closer in a quick, swift movement, his eyes drilling into Potter's. He watched as his adams apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, wanting nothing more than to attack that bloody tanned throat. "Or swishes…?" His fingers gently swayed along his thigh, getting closer, closer…
Potter's hand closed around his wrist, so Draco obliged and stopped teasing him. His fingers rested against the fabric on his trousers, against the zipper. Merlin, he wanted to continue. If he pressed down slightly…
Potter tried to speak, but instead had to close his mouth and swallow. His face was bright red again, his eyes…hungry.
"Enjoy the moment." Draco leaned closer to him, barely whispering the words. His breath was moving the hairs above Potter's ear. He saw him shiver slightly, and smirked.
"Not…in the library…" Potter eventually managed to squeak out, swallowing again. He pushed Draco's hand back towards him, then shifted his chair away. About two meters away.
"A tad drastic, don't you suppose?" He drawled, slumping down on the table. He was so close.
"No; your perversion extends to here." He drew a line on the table; obviously he held no regard for his life, because if Prince had seen she would have murdered him.
"And you don't trust me to control myself? I'm hurt." He smirked, rolling his eyes as Potter shifted further down the table. They were sitting across from each other now, longways. "Don't you trust yourself to keep yourself in check?"
Potter stared at him, incredulous. "Hell no." He smiled, though, when Draco laughed, resting his head on the table.
"I guess I'll have to keep myself otherwise occupied." Draco picked up a pencil, flipping it around his fingers. That had certainly been a distraction. He certainly had Potter's attention now; the brunette didn't even pretend to be researching languages; he sat at the other end of the table, breathing heavily, flushed, and wide eyed. Like a deer that had wanted to be caught in headlights.
"I need my pencil back."
"Come and get it." But Potter merely threw him a look, almost pleading. Damn it; he shouldn't plead. He shouldn't look anything less 'utterly happy', or fuckable.
Hmm. Interesting idea.
Draco tossed him his pathetic wooden pencil back, leaning back on the chair and propping his feet up. Instead, he reached into the folds of his robe, and pulled out the wand he had confiscated from Harry weeks ago. He twirled it around his fingers, waiting for the git to notice.
He didn't look up.
Was he trying to ignore him?
Draco dropped his feet down and continued twirling, ensuring his eyes were drilling holes into Potter's thick head. He had a fucking radar whenever Draco was watching him, he knew, and he dared to disregard him?
Draco leant forwards, bracing himself for countless germs and awful taste, and licked the tip of the wand.
Potter's eyes were on him in an instant.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He whispered; his lips were twitching however. He thought this was amusing.
"You never did answer me." Draco replied evenly, smirking. "Does your wand prefer a flicks, jabs, or swishes?" He licked it again, just the tip of the wand. Merlin, it tasted like…well, bark. He could practically see the bacteria gathering.
"Is that…do you keep my wand on you?"
"I would if you'd let me." Draco purred, grinning as Potter's mouth dropped open. It was as if he didn't know Draco got whatever he wanted. "This wand, yes, I do. Safest place and all that jazz."
Now why was Potter staring at him like that?
"Draco, darling, I understand kinks as much as the next person, but I'm at a bit of a loss here."
Draco groaned loudly, plonking his head on the table. Pansy grinned at him as she plonked herself on the desk, crossing her legs and ruffling his hair. She went for the wand, but Draco snatched it back, tutting at her.
"Lost your chance, Potty." He sighed, watching as Theo sat next on his other side.
"Tell me, what did I just catch you doing?" Pansy asked, turning to Potter as if she didn't expect an answer. She should know him better; he always had to have the last word.
"Sucking." Well, wasn't this a surprise; Theo and Potter could go the same shade of red. "At irritating Potty, of course. I've failed. I'm aghast." Pansy just exchanged a glance with him, smirking. Bloody fangirl.
"Hello." Potter said quietly, already trying to gather some of the books inconspicuously. He was still unsure about the others, a little dimmed when they were around. Soon he would be his usual brilliant self around them.
"They're like the annoying siblings you can't get rid of." Draco drawled, catching Potter's eyes with his own, "Parasites, even. Once they're attached, you can't get rid of them."
"We're the best type of leech." Theo agreed, whilst Pansy just whacked his head.
Draco blinked at that, raising his eyebrows at her. She would never have tried that a few months ago; maybe he was getting a bit sof…no.
"So, what's with the languages?" Pansy asked, swiping a book off of the table. She frowned at it, flipping through and cocking her head to one side. Harry just waited with a hand out, pretending to be used to this behaviour by now.
"Just passing the time." Potter replied, shoving more into his bag.
"That's not your wand." Theo stated, eyes narrowing at Draco's scoff.
"Cleverly deduced. Well done."
"Stop being mean," Potter grinned, leaning forwards with his hand out. He stretched it over the table, eyes glinting mischievously. "Hurry it up and give me my wand back."
Oh, the little Slytherin.
He had no reason for having the wand that they knew of; if Potter wanted it back, all he had to do was push Draco in an uncomfortable situation, one in which, like now, he had no reply to the demand. But why would Potter want his wand? In other circumstances, Draco would be proud.
He forgot, of course, that Draco was a Slytherin. "Nope."
Potter huffed, hand shaking slightly at the uncomfortable position. "I just want to check the time." Oh, he seemed innocent. Big eyed, naïve; guilty.
Draco waved the wand, smirking. "There. It's three twenty."
"You're such a git."
Draco shrugged, flipping the wand through his fingers again, since he couldn't really lick it with the current company. Well, he didn't think they would find it sporting. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" It was a bluff; a tease. Between friends.
Certainly not with some buffoon of a Gryffindork that decided he wanted to play at being hero.
Longbottom, somehow, managed to leap from a nearby table, snatching at the wand and successfully ripping it from Draco's hand.
Well.
Surely he expected some rebuking? Getting involved in Slytherin affairs; it was pure idiocy. Taking away something from Draco? He should have run the moment the wand touched his chubby fingers.
He didn't. Therefore, it wasn't Draco's fault he tackled the oaf.
A leg came up to kick Draco away, but he was too quick; he rolled off of him, to, Merlin forbid, climb back on and pin him to the ground. Draco growled, livid. He didn't know if anyone was speaking, didn't know if anyone was trying to force them apart.
He focused of Longbottom's wide eyes; not in fear, no, he was too Gryffindor for that. His eyes were wide in challenge; surprise, then determination. He wasn't letting the wand go in a hurry.
Draco's hand clenched, ready to close those fucking judging eyes.
Another hand snatched the wand, a smaller one. Longbottom was dismissed as Draco glared at untidy hair, a stubborn face. Mudblood. He pushed himself to his feet, reaching to pull out his own wand…Longbottom yanked at his leg, forcing him back to the ground so he could clamber over him. The impertinence!
He deserved the stinging hex Draco threw at him, delighting when it his crotch. A marvellous mistake on his part.
Someone trod on his hand.
Another fell over and landed on his legs.
Dimly, he was aware of Longbottom with the wand again, tossing it to someone else. Those fuckwits, did they not know who it belonged to? It was happening too quick, too suddenly…
Draco twisted to watch the wand fly though the air, about to cast an accio charm on the blasted thing…Potter caught it.
Potter stormed over, his face thunder. Draco thought he was going to deck him; it had happened before! But just as he stood over him, he shoved someone away roughly, reaching out to pull Draco back to his feet. Draco didn't have time to relish Potter's warm hand, for it quickly helped up Pansy, then Theo in turn. He didn't help the Gryffindors, Draco noted silently. Good.
Potter threw the filthiest glare he had at the two Gryffindorks; it could even surpass Draco's, with a little practise. Merlin, it was enough to challenge a dementor. He had never stared at Draco like that, and for that, he was eternally grateful.
Potter turned, eyes blazing…and shoved the wand back at Draco.
Who promptly placed it back in his robe, where it belonged.
"Harry," Longbottom looked insulted, confused. Good, pompous arse. Draco loathed that boy; his sore arm was twinging again. Prick.
"Just fuck off Neville!" Potter shouted, oblivious to the stares of the library. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"I…" He glanced at his Mudblood friend, taking courage by her fervent nod. Idiots. "I was getting your wand back!" He shouted back, gesturing wildly at Draco. Who growled; if he pointed again, he was losing the finger.
"By bloody attacking them?" Harry demanded, "I think there's a student in the hospital wing at the moment from attacks; have you had a look at him?"
"He tackled me."
"You provoked him by taking something his from his hand!" Harry blinked again, finally realising the cohort was watching with interest. He threw another glare at the others, turning to Draco with those bloody eyes again.
Draco nodded at once, grabbed his arm and began to lead him to the doors. It was time to leave the library, before a real fight broke out. He hadn't been hexed at all; he couldn't say the same for the other two. Longbottom certainly had wanted to, after his genitals had stopped throbbing. Tch, now wasn't the time for laughing.
"Harry, we're your friends. We're just trying to help you-!" Granger called out, jumping in shock as Harry spun back around, yanking his arm from Draco's grip. He was pretty sure everyone in the library jumped when he bellowed.
"I never asked for your help!" He stormed over, shoving Longbottom in the chest when he quickly stood in front of the Mudblood. As if Harry would actually do anything to her; he was far too noble for that. It was a clear indication they didn't know him that well. "In fact, the only thing I actually asked of you, was to leave me alone!" He yelled that at Granger over Longbottom's shoulder, livid.
"Harry, just-"
"What? Just what? What the fuck do you want from me!?"
Draco hurried forwards quickly; there were too many people here. Time to end it. "Harry."
Granger spoke over him. "Harry, we just-"
"Shut up, Hermione! Just shut up!" His hand travelled to his hair, clenching and unclenching. His hands were shaking again, his eyes wide, desperate. He looked on the verge of tears. "What do you want from me?" He almost pleaded, voice breaking. "I can't keep doing this. I can't. Keep away from me. You hear me? Keep the fuck away!"
Draco grabbed his arm again, refusing to let go as he hauled the brunette from the library. He was shaking, confused; it was obvious he was angry, livid even…but he was also terrified they would find out his secret, and just…tired.
Those fuckers. Draco was going to curse them next time they met. Something about infertility; they didn't deserve to have their spawn invading the earth.
Finally, a classroom.
Draco yanked open the door, and shoved Potter inside. "Out!" He barked once at the Ravenclaws kissing on a desk, barely waiting for them to escape before slamming the door shut.
Potter was standing by a desk, head raised to the heavens with both his hands pressed over his eyes.
"I can't keep doing this." He said quietly, sinking to his knees. "I can't."
"…I don't expect you to." Draco murmured, edging closer.
"I…I'm nothing more than a bloody squib now. I couldn't do anything in that…battle, just watch uselessly in the corner. A bloody, worthless squib."
"Potter."
"No better than Filch."
"Harry."
"Couldn't stop Goyle. Can't even stop a ring-around-a-fucking-rosy with my wand! Jesus Christ, what's the point of all thi-"
"Silenco."
.
.
.
Neville watched quietly as Harry fled the library, an odd mixture between furious and exhausted. He felt…like the scum of the earth. He had done it again; hurt his friend. And for what?
That's the ridiculous part; he had thought he was doing something friendly. Helping out a mate.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
This was all wrong. He wanted his friend back, but his was obviously the immoral pathway.
It was time to stop this hopeless crusade. Taking his wand from Malfoy? What were they thinking?
"We were wrong." Neville said quietly to Hermione, hoping she understood. He was out. He was going to do it his way now, and man up to apologise. Ron was right.
"We were wrong." Hermione concurred, glaring at the doorway Harry had been dragged through. Her eyes narrowed; never a positive sign. "It has nothing to do with his wand." She said quietly, "It's something else. Something worse. And Malfoy knows."
Neville sighed, watching her go back to her desk.
Then he turned to Harry's; he hadn't even grabbed his bag.
Sighing, Neville slung it over his shoulder; hopefully he would be at dinner. Then he could apologise properly.
.
.
.
Pain.
Wand dropped to the floor, pieces hitting the ground separately.
Hands throbbing. Refusing to move.
Spells wrapped around his hands, tightening, forcing them to the ground. A studded heel slammed into his right; bones shattered.
Hard to breathe. Hurts chest, lungs resisting.
A kick to the chest. Again. Again. Again.
Left eye doesn't move. Right barely opens. Too bright. Hurts.
They punch his face with spells; no one uses their fists. Evidence. Cowards.
"Legillimens!"
Burrowing into his head, dragging out memories one by one.
The fire.
His father screaming, being dragged by several wizards towards a dementor.
Potter on the ground, screaming silently.
Fear. He saw. Fucker, he saw.
Throat tight, dry.
Hands curled around his throat, squeezing tight. It cut off the air, trying to crush his throat.
"Draco! That's enough, stop it!"
Throat inflamed, bruised. Hard to swallow.
"You fucking bastard! He's been through enough! He's been through enough to last a lifetime you repulsive cocksucker!"
"Draco!"
Tries to open eyes again. Can't. Tries to speak. Can't.
"Potter won't be pleased if you kill him!"
A whimper leaves his throat.
"Let him go! That's enough!"
Pain. So much pain. This was all because of him. That fucking halfblood.
"Draco!"
Potter.
Goyle opened the eye he was able to.
.
.
.
Harry blinked to himself, anger quickly overriding the exhaustion flowing through his veins. He had just silenced him. That fucker had just silenced him!
"You tosser!" He growled, but nothing came out. Not a bloody thing. Draco just looked amused, really, that irritating smirk drifting back into place. "Oh, you bloody twat! You undo this now you fucking gitty prat, or I'll connect my foot with your arse!"
"Could you repeat that one?" Draco ignored Harry's growl; it was easy to, when it was nonexistent. "Good. You're going to listen, for once. You're going to sit there, and listen."
Harry glared at the blonde, quickly raising to his feet. How dare he just…order him around? It was bad enough that he had blatantly used Harry's lack of magic as an advantage. Fucking Slytherin, if Harry could reach for his wand…!
"I'm not repeating myself, and this conversation never happened." Draco…, no, until he took the spell off, he was Malfoy again! Malfoy said quietly. Harry just glowered at him, hoping his face betrayed how furious he was right now.
No magic, no voice; what was he going to lose next?
"You are not a squib, Harry." Suddenly, the smirk was gone. Malfoy was staring at him intently, demanding his message got across. Harry would have cut across him if he could have, which was probably what Malfoy was expecting. He couldn't do magic anymore. If not a squib, he was a muggle. He was useless. "You were born into a magical family. You've used magic your entire life, until now. You still have the magic inside you; you just don't utilize it. You are, and will remain to be, a wizard."
This was not like Malfoy in the slightest. Harry was sure in Malfoys: 101 there was a chapter on the distinct lack of sympathy the blonde gits were supposed to possess. What was going on?
And why did it already calm him?
"You can still use magical artefacts. You can still make potions. You can still live in the magical community. Filch is in his own level, and you are considerably above that. If I hear you comparing yourself to that imbecile again, I have the authority to smack you. Feel free to object. No? Good."
Prick.
"You shouldn't have to stop Goyle; that's my job." He continued, eyes hardening for a moment. "And I can see you still don't believe a word I'm saying." Because it wasn't all true. What type of wizard didn't use magic?
"Even if you believe you're a squib, or a muggle, or whatever your deluded brain is muttering at you, it wouldn't matter. You would still be you, Potter. Magic doesn't define who you are."
Didn't he understand, though? Magic did define him. He was nothing without magic; it had given him a new life, taken him away from the Dursley's and given him a chance to flourish. Without his magic, he reverted back to the eleven year old shoved inside a cupboard.
Harry jabbed a finger at his throat, waiting for Malfoy to take the hint. The blonde just smirked though, shaking his head. "I think this is a perfect opportunity for you to complete number twenty four." Oh, that bastard. It was supposed to be a voluntary thing, not to be forced onto him! "It will give you a chance to listen to what everyone is saying to you. Oh my, I'm feeling very spiritual today, aren't I?"
Harry punched his arm. He could take his spirituality, and advice, and shove it!
"Undo this fucking spell right now, you insufferable little prick!" Harry tried to yell, growling as Malfoy only raised his eyebrows.
"What was that?"
"You fucking pompous git! Self righteous, unnatural blonde, ferret!"
"You'll have to speak up."
"Ferret! Ferret! Ferret! Ferret! Ferret!"
"Nothing to say? Come along, then, it's almost time for dinner."
Harry screamed in frustration, shoving past him to run to the Great Hall. One of the Slytherins would take it off of him; he just had to get there before Malfoy.
.
.
.
"Sorry, Potter, but I value my life." Parkinson giggled, not looking the least bit apologetic. She grinned at him, cocking her head to one side as he slammed his head onto the table. Overdramatic? Not in the least. "And since I recently saw Draco grinning like a lunatic, where anyone could see him and tarnish his reputation, I have to assume he's the one that hexed you."
Harry raised his head quickly, shaking his head. He pointed hopefully to the Gryffindor table, but she grinned at him. Like a hungry cat. "If that's the truth, I'll just wait for Draco to arrive for dinner. It's very amusing to see him swoon at you."
"He doesn't swoon." Harry growled, rolling his eyes as Parkinson laughed. Why did he think Slytherin would be of any help?
"Does this mean you're at my mercy?" She sat up eagerly, eyes glinting. "Oh, good. I think you should man up and tell Draco how you feel already; you both dance around one another, when it's palpable in the air that you want nothing more than him to fuck you into the table."
"Shut it, you have no idea what you're talking about!" Harry tried to snap, but nothing came out. Frustrated, he banged on the table with his fist. Why did everyone assume he was the bottom?!
"That's right, dear, take out your sexual frustration."
"Fuck you, you cow."
"I know, I know."
Harry blinked at her. Oh. He could hear her, and wasn't able to do a thing. If she couldn't hear him, neither could she. He could benefit from this as well.
He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. "If I'm dancing around Draco, you should stop dancing around Zabini." He smirked, watching with satisfaction as her grin slipped a little. She seemed to know whatever he was saying wasn't nice. "You swoon at him, too; you act a little too aloof when he's around, even for a Slytherin."
"Whatever you're saying, I suggest you stop." She threatened, ignoring how Harry just grinned.
"This is great. You have no idea what I'm saying, do you? I could compliment you, and you wouldn't even know. Pansy, I would never say this aloud, but you have pretty eyes. Not as nice as Draco's, but they're remarkably pretty."
"You take that back."
"You're also quite clever; you hide it behind a simpering, bitchy personality, and I really don't understand why."
"Theo! Potter's being a prick!" She sung as he entered the room, huffing as Harry laughed loudly, silently. He couldn't help himself; she was proving his point! Nott and Zabini entered the room, she immediately ignored Zabini, though he was the one most likely to come to her aid. Nott merely shrugged, sitting down opposite Harry.
"Potty, no one likes a prick…Oh, well, I guess everyone does, don't they?" Zabini chuckled as he sat down, thinking about it. "Except lesbians, of course. Okay, Potter, lesbians don't like you."
What. The. Literal. Fuck?
Harry laughed again, shaking his head. The two newcomers just stared at him, momentarily perplexed. So he pointed at his throat, hoping at least Zabini would have mercy.
"Malfoy's the biggest prick alive. Could you undo the spell?" He asked, grinning as Zabini immediately reached for his wand. Nott, however, reached over and stopped him, eyes narrowing.
"Why are you coming to us for help? Where's Draco?" He asked, a smirk reaching his lips when Harry shrugged. "Very Slytherin, Potter. Don't take it off, Draco's the one that hexed him."
"You were going to let him come after me?" Zabini asked, throwing on his hurt puppy dog expression. It was ruined by his smirk. "But we've bonded, Potter. We've bonded."
"Not as much as Pansy wants to." Harry shot back, throwing a smirk at the frowning girl.
"What was that? Undo the bloody spell! He's mocking me!"
This wasn't too bad; it was actually fun. He could say whatever he wanted, and no one would know a difference. He had immunity.
…
He could say anything.
Harry swallowed tightly, his grin faltering slightly. The others were talking amongst themselves, chatting, debating over some inane thing. They wouldn't notice anyway, and they wouldn't hear. What did it matter what he said?
"I...I'm sick." He said, watching their reactions. Pansy was hitting Nott across the head, shrieking loudly at some mutter he had said, whilst Zabini watched on, amused smirk on his face. He could do this. "I'm dying sick." He added, sighing with relief. "I have Succorbentis, the one disease, apparently, that no one cares to research, because of the fear instilled by it. It's rare, so rare that there's no adequate information about the people that caught it. Everyone that gets it dies; there's been no surviving person, yet; either their magic kills them, which is horrible because my magic gave me my life, or they go insane, or they commit suicide, because apparently, it gets to that point where they live in constant fear of whatever their magic will do to them next. I don't want to live in that fear, that paralysing fear, ever again. I don't want to die, either, really. I don't want to die at all. I have nightmares almost every night. I get bloody tortured every Tuesday. Oh, and I have the sneaky suspicion that I may be attracted to men." Harry laughed at himself, shaking his head. Merlin, he was an idiot sometimes.
"Draco, I think Potter's lost the plot."
Harry glanced up, smile fading a bit when he found vivid grey eyes were scrutinizing his face, trying to understand every emotion flittering through his mind. The other Slytherins were watching him quietly too, frowns marring their faces. Oh, guess he wasn't being as subtle in speaking as he thought.
"My ferret!" He smiled, "Bounced your way over?"
"You say that one word quite a lot." He drawled, sitting across from Harry slowly. "I'm starting to believe it's an insult."
"Clever you." Harry replied evenly, stabbing a piece of pie with his fork. Sheppard's pie; delicious. He ignored the stare being drilled into his face; he couldn't possibly know what he was saying.
Startled, Harry blinked and sat up again. This was a perfect opportunity.
"Pansy," He said, touching her arm to ensure he caught her attention. "I think you care more than you let on." He turned to Zabini, "You're fantastic to hang around." Nott. "You can be scary. But you try to do what's right by your standards, which is cool." He stared at Draco, then decided against it. It was too easy to lip read what he was about to say, and he wasn't about to say it here. Getting up, he hurried across the hall, disregarding the calls he got from the Slytherin table. Instead, he hurried to the house bathed in red.
Panting, he hurried up to Ron, pretending it didn't hurt when he glanced around alarmed. As if Harry was going to bring the entire Slytherin cohort down upon him; he wasn't in commandment.
"Ron, I get that you're mad at me, and I understand that. I forgive that." He shook his head quickly as the redhead frowned and picked up his wand, gesturing for him to put it away. He did, albeit slowly. "But you are the most stubborn person I know. Despite that I know you're angry at me, and I'm not going to allow us to be friendly again, I still consider you my best friend." He turned to Hermione, frowning slightly. "You are the smartest witch I know, and yet, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes. Let Ron take care of you." Neville. "You are the heart of Gryffindor; you have more courage than I do." Ginny. "I consider you to be, now, a little sister." Dean.
Dean. Harry flipped him off, ignoring the mutters around him. "You're a douche."
And with that, he returned to the Slytherin table. What do you know? This charm was coming in handy after all.
"Am I to assume I don't get an opinion?" Malfoy asked quietly, that insufferable mask in place yet again.
He didn't know how to phrase it; he didn't know where to begin. Instead, he spoke quietly, hoping Draco couldn't lip read. He probably could, omnipotent, overachieving bastard.
"I get butterflies even if you're in my thoughts."
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3. Tell everyone my opinions about them
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Flaky.
Bloody Flaky had wormed his way back into the castle grounds; not as an emissary, not with information; but to taunt Harry with his very presence. He knew he should have killed that traitor snowman when he had the chance.
Flaky. That bastard had formed some kind of alliance with Draco.
One guess what the Slytherin Password was?
And he couldn't tell Draco what an absolute prick he was, by making that the password, because he was yet to lift the charm on him! He was left to suffer in silence, literally, cursing everyone in sight.
Because the Slytherins certainly wouldn't remove the charm; they thought it was funny. All of them. Even a remarkably unsympathetic second year girl, who seemed distinctively less patronising than the rest of them. She had offered to remove it for him if he stripped for her; funnily enough, he had declined
"Come now, Potty, I thought you would find it amusing."
Oh, yes, very amusing. Hardy-fucking-har.
He was stunned that they would all willingly give him the password in the first place; being invited in and turning it into your home was quite another matter. Harry ignored the fact the Slytherins blatantly didn't ask him to join their house; they expected, demanded, and got whatever they wanted. Apparently bloody Draco was a distraction today. Git.
"Surely a reunion wouldn't go amiss; he was very apologetic the last I heard of him."
Harry turned to blonde, eyebrows raised. He thought this was hilarious; he was grinning in public, eyes shining brightly. "Ferret."
If anything, his smile grew, stretching across his face. His eyes, though, took a predatory gleam. Always one with a thousand different reactions, Malfoy was. "You know, if you continue to refer to me as a rodent, I may have to act like one."
Harry blinked at that, bewildered once again. He knew what he had been saying all along, and had disregarded it? Why didn't he react to insults anymore?
The challenge hung in the air. Who was Harry to deny a challenge?
"That implies you've never been a rodent when I can assure you, you have," He smirked,
ignoring the cocky little smile Draco was trying to hold back. "…My bouncy, fluffy, Ferret."
Draco grabbed at his arm, hauling him from the corridor. He pressed him into a darkened alcove, up against the cool window. Harry smirked back at him, eager for whatever smart little quip he had ready. He always had something to say, always had an opinion or a snide remark filed away in that library of a mind of…
Lips pressed against his, roughly, urgently. They curved into a cocky smile as Harry jumped in surprise, hesitantly kissing back. It only took a second for his mind to interpret, reason, and bloody want more. And Draco knew it.
It had been a week or two since they had done this; being almost felt up under desks and tables didn't feel quite as fantastic as this. That had its own tightening of the stomach sensations. This…was bloody indescribable.
Hands cupped his face, as if holding him in place as Draco's tongue explored, eagerly delving into Harry's willing mouth. There would be no moaning tonight, damn it. Despite the fact that tongue was unrelenting; it ran over his teeth quickly, grazed over Harry's tongue, repeating the process with more force each time. He was urging Harry to join in, to let go with him.
To enjoy the moment.
Harry's hands shook as he wrapped them around the blonde's shoulders, drawing him closer. Their bodies flushed up against one another, their hipbones touching.
Oh, sweet Merlin. Harry could have moaned; every touch was sending shivers down his spine, tingles across his skin. It was so hot, so bloody hot. Why didn't the school invest in a cooling system?
Draco gasped as Harry, much too overly confident, rolled his hips slightly, finally releasing his magical hold over Harry's mind and breathing capabilities. One quick breath, and he leaned forwards again, grey eyes positively shining.
And hungry.
His lips inched away from Harry's mouth, landing soft kisses instead on his cheek, on his jawbone, behind his ear…it eventually stilled on his throat where he nibbled, licked, sucked.
"Just tell me if you want me to stop." Draco whispered, smirking against Harry's throat. Merlin, even now he was being a git. Did it never…?
Draco bit down hard on his throat, almost feral. Harry jumped again, swallowing tightly. That shouldn't send tendrils of pleasure down his spine, should it? He did it again; Harry was fervently thankful for the silencing spell. It would be quite mortifying if Draco heard him make the sounds he was certain were traitorously escaping his mouth.
Harry tilted his head back a little, allowing easier access for the ravishing of his throat. And Draco readily complied; Christ, he wouldn't last for much longer.
He rolled his hips again, gasping as Draco eagerly copied. So many sensations, so much heat…
Hands flittered down his arching back, jerkily untucking his shirt from his trousers. They slipped back up his back, pressing into his skin. Harry couldn't help the shiver of anticipation, couldn't help but press himself into the hands. They travelled lower, lower…not at all hesitant as they journeyed down to his thighs and back up, squeezing softly.
Oh, Merlin.
Harry slammed his eyes shut as the hands inched back up, trailing around the waist of his pants, pulling slightly, tugging. Draco had stopped biting his collarbone in favour of planting soft pecks across his throat, a quick nibble here, a flick of a lick there…
His trouser button was undone with practised fingers, the other hand abandoning the pursuit in favour to brush a thumb across Harry's cheek; Draco chuckled softly as Harry jumped again, eyes jerking open.
Green eyes caught with grey; they were both panting by this point, chests racing, hearts thumping excessively loud. They could have an audience, and neither would notice, or care. There was just the two of them.
This moment.
Harry's breath hitched as his zipper was undone, shutting his eyes again. It was embarrassing how much he wanted this; uncomfortable how attentive Draco was.
The thumb brushed along his cheek again, coaxing his eyes open.
"Shh, Harry, you have to be quiet." He panted, smirking even now.
Draco held his gaze as his hand travelled lower.
Lower.
Warm hands slipped past his briefs, brushed over the hair there…
Hands, skin, heat, nibbles, strokes, kisses, moans…
It was over far too quickly.
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A hand curled in his hair, tugging softly, insistent.
Harry relented and pulled his head off of the blondes shoulder, edging slowly away from the comfortable vanilla.
He expected a smirk. He expected a remark.
Lips pressed into his again, unbelievably soft.
Unbelievably perfect.
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