It was silly, really. Draco hadn't even said anything derogatory. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were in transfigurations in sixth year when Harry had made a Neville worthy blunder on a certain incantation. He'd blushed tomato red and tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug his head under his collar like a turtle into its shell. Then Draco had started laughing. It wasn't a derogatory snicker or a sarcastic guffaw. On the contrary, it was a deep belly laugh of genuine amusement, as might erupt while watching the Three Stooges or other such low brow forms of humor. True, Draco did Harry no favors in giving his amusement free reign, but for once there had been no malicious intent on Draco's part. There was no call for Harry to hex him.
Which he did. With alacrity. And suddenly, Draco's laughter was cut off completely. Harry had cast a silencing charm. Draco reached for his wand to retaliate, but the charm of course prevented him from uttering any counter spell. Still, Malfoy's are nothing if not resourceful, and no charm was going to stop Draco from getting back at Harry in some form or another, and Harry soon found himself the victim of a vicious uppercut.
Professor McGonagall finally interceded, and her frustration with the boys' constant bickering led her into doing something rather unprecedented. She cast her own silencing charm - on Harry. "This is the last straw Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. You both have two hours of detention tonight, and you will not be speaking to each other, or anyone else for that matter, for the rest of the day! Meet me in this classroom at seven o'clock sharp."
The bell rang.
"That is all class. You are excused. Oh, and Mr. Potter, you will have Ms. Granger aid you in mastering this lesson tomorrow, once I have removed the incantation from you and Mr. Malfoy."
Harry joined lunch late, squeezing in next to Ron and Hermione. He had managed to swipe a notepad and quickly scrawled:
Hermione snatched Harry's quill before he could write a seventh exclamation point. She and Ron gave a commiserating look. "I suppose she'll take the charm off when you finish the detention," Hermione said soothingly. "What d'you think she'll make you do?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged and dug into his lunch.
The bell rang, and the three rushed off. Potions was next, and the class turned out to be almost unbearably boring, but without incident, which was rare in any Gryffindor/Slytherin class. (Snape and McGonagall thought it rather sadistic of Dumbledore to put their two houses together in both of their subjects.) The unusual inactivity of course had much to do with the fact that the two major instigators of conflict were unable to do anything but glower and make rude gestures when Professor Snape wasn't looking. The rest of the day went by in a rush, and Harry soon found himself standing with Draco in front of Professor McGonagall at seven o'clock. On the dot, no less.
The professor looked up from her desk, uttered a forbidding "Hmm," and then, after a few moments of tense silence said, "Right, then. You will tidy up any mess on the desks or the floor. Brooms and dustpans are in that closet over there. It goes without saying that you won't be using magic to do it. If you finish before the two hours are over, then try to enjoy each other's company until I return to let you out." With that, she swept out of the room, locking the door behind her.
*Honestly, this is what house elves are for,* thought Draco before getting down to cleaning. *Why me?* though Harry before doing the same. The boys' made an impressive effort of ignoring each other by throwing themselves into the work. They finished in very good time. They found themselves done when barely twenty minutes had passed, and with nothing to do but try to stare the other person down.
*I can't believe he hexed me! I didn't even do anything to him. What is his problem anyway? 'Oh, woe is me, perfect Harry Potter, how can I go on.' Bastard. Stupid git. Just look at his stupid scar and those big idiot green eyes with their long, girly lashes, and that full mouth...*
*Damn it Draco, why are you always laughing at me? You're such an ass! You know, I'm thinking your nose might look much better broken.*
With that thought, Harry got up to give Draco a punch equal to the one he'd been given during transfigurations. Draco grabbed Harry's fist before it met its target and wrapped his free hand around Harry's throat, squeezing. Harry would have been gasping if he could have made a sound. Much scrabbling ensued, resulting in Draco slammed up against a desk and Harry leaning menacingly over him, an expression of complete rage on his face.
An expression which quickly turned utterly gob smacked, when Draco, in an unbelievably fast move, snatched his arm from Harry's fist, grabbed his attacker by the hair, and yanked the boy's head...forward?
Harry's thoughts scattered. Draco was kissing him, brutally. After one long moment the two yanked apart for an intense stare, eyes filled with a strange combination of anger and lust. Harry lifted a finger to touch the inside of his lip. The digit came away stained pink. Draco swallowed hard, unconsciously savoring the flavor of blood and aniseed, lemon tea and *Harry.*
For a moment Draco was worried he had said the name aloud. Then he remembered that he couldn't if he tried, and Harry was staring too intensely at his eyes to notice if Draco happened to mouth his name anyway. Better still, if Harry had noticed, he couldn't comment. Harry could, however, wrench at Draco's hair, nearly rending the strands from the boy's scalp. *Must be angry about his lip,* Draco thought. *That's twice I've made him bleed today.* Draco responded by kneeing Harry in the thigh, avoiding the groin, which he had distinct plans for.
The pair fought dirty. Harry was thrown against a table, Draco simultaneously clawing at his face and grinding into his erection. Harry opened his mouth to cry out in pain or pleasure, but all that could be heard was the rustle of clothing. Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and spun around, so Draco was bent over the table edge. He dipped his head to bite savagely at Draco's collarbone, sliding his hands between the folds of Draco's robe and up his shirt to feel the vibrations of the boy's soundless vocalizations. He lifted his head away to meet Draco's eyes in another glare, feeling hands slide under his waistband, handling the aroused flesh therein roughly, yet expertly. Soon Harry's hips were bucking wildly, his own hands fighting to strip Draco of all clothing, his eyes darkened with emotion. Draco's own gaze had become a limpid dark silver, communicating everything and nothing as his deft fingers relieved both of them of any encumbering garments. The resulting crush of flesh, the creaking of table legs, the whisper of cloth seemed deafening under the silence of their moans.
Thrusting actions were aided by hands, seizing and coaxing in measured motions. Harry watched as Draco's writhing grew increasingly uncontrolled, and then abruptly ceased, watched as the boy arched over the tabletop, slowly, slowly, beginning at a gentle stretch and continuing into a show of acrobatic flexibility, watched as eyes drifted shut, lids flickering under a flurry of rapid eye movement, watched as Draco's mouth opened in a noiseless scream, and watched as he felt the warm splash of Draco's release hit his own member. Harry watched, watched and came, grinding and shuddering like a seizure victim. The two felt all their muscles give out nearly simultaneously and clattered to the floor, taking two chairs with them. They sat there, tangled together, hearing nothing but their own quiet breaths.
Draco's melted thoughts were the first to re-solidify. He turned to glance at the clock. 8:48. His head spun back to look at Harry, who still hadn't lost his dazed expression. He grabbed Harry by the chin and turned his face towards the clock. Harry took seconds to process what Draco was showing him. He snapped out of his daze and into action. Twelve minutes to make it look like the two hadn't been ravishing each other for the past hour or so. Clothing was yanked up, zipped up, buttoned up, closed up in record time. McGonagall walked into the room just in time to see Draco righting a chair and an unusually flushed Harry holding both broom and dustpan in a death grip. She raised an eyebrow, then lifted her wand and said "Finite incantatem," for each of them. "You are free to go. In the future, try to solve your differences in a more civilized manner. I don't want to have to keep punishing you two every time you let anger make you do something rash."
Harry and Draco hurried out of the class. They paused outside the door. "So," Harry said, "That was -"
"Oh, do shut up," Draco hissed, and hurried off to the Slytherin dormitory.
Return to Archive | next