Draco spent long minutes staring wishfully at the empty doorway to his bedroom. Eventually, his focus shifted from the vacant image. *Gods, I feel like shit.* He sighed ruefully. He then cast his eyes downward to glance at the vicious hard on he'd been nursing since Harry's exit. *And you're certainly not any bloody help.* He considered having a quick wank. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time. Not if he wanted to dress and finish the previous day's homework before breakfast.
And so, Draco resignedly went to his drawers in search of a clean outfit, pulling out a shirt, a pair of trousers, a belt, and a set of school robes. The items were lined up neatly at the edge of his bed. He paused for a moment, then began to dress. Trousers first. Then the belt. The shirt followed. The blonde then dropped to his knees beside his bed, pulling his shoes out from under the mattress. After another minute or so of pulling, tugging, and sliding, and the ritual was complete. Draco stood before his mirror in full school attire.
He was happy to see he looked quite normal. No slight twitch of the eyelids. No ill tint in his pallor. There was nothing in his face to betray the exhaustion that weighed at his limbs, the tangle of thoughts that lingered in Harry's absence, the desperate loneliness that clung like phlegm to the back of his throat.
He took a moment to gather up any garments shed during his encounter with the Gryffindor. He made a haphazard pile of them, setting it out of his way until the castle's house elves could come clean up the mess. He then gathered together books, parchment, and quills and set to work.
Draco did manage to finish his homework. A parchment was now filled with sixteen inches of Potions essay. It had taken nine of those sixteen inches for his erection to finally give up and die quietly. Draco was just relieved that it had gone away.
His relief was short-lived. The moment the blonde stepped into the breakfast hall, he was met with the sight of a deliciously tousled looking Harry talking animatedly with his friends. Blood rushed to his crotch so swiftly he was almost reeling from it. He let out a quiet, frustrated growl before heading off towards the Slytherin table.
Breakfast was horrid. Honestly, Draco was having trouble remembering the last time he'd actually managed to enjoy the meal. Crabbe and Goyle were leering at some large-breasted Ravenclaw across the hall. It was quite repulsive. Zabini was giving him odd looks, and it was only a matter of time before the boy started asking questions. Bulstrode was shoving food into her face as if she were at a trough. Pansy was...alive.
And of course, there was Harry. The reason Draco's life had turned into a screaming nightmare. The reason Draco's trousers were about to rend in twain under the force of his arousal. The Gryffindor turned, suddenly, halting his conversation with his friends to stare at the Slytherin across the room. His eyes bored into the blonde's with a frightful intensity for several long seconds. Eventually, Hermione grabbed him by the shoulder to get his attention, a concerned expression on her face. She seemed to ask him something then, but Harry merely flushed and went back to his food.
"What were you looking at just now?"
Thankfully, the bell rang, and Blaise ran off to his first period class without waiting for an answer.
Draco had Arithmancy first. He wondered briefly if it were legal for a class to be that boring. The few notes he took did nothing to distract him from the difficulty he was having in his nether regions. Charms wasn't much better. Finally, just as Draco was about to snap, the bell rang. He had a free period. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He headed towards the Slytherin boys' restrooms with all possible haste.
When Harry walked into the breakfast hall in the morning, the first thing he noticed was that Draco wasn't there yet. In his scan of the Slytherin table, he managed to catch Pansy's eye. He narrowed his eyes at her before turning towards his own table. The girl only blinked at him before turning back to her friends.
He sat down between Ron and Hermione. As he settled into his chair he nearly yelped in pain. He didn't know how he'd manage to sit through classes for an entire day after the abuse Draco had meted out upon his posterior the night before. A quick numbing spell would have solved the problem, only it wouldn't work very well unless cast by another, and asking someone would incite too many questions. He forced himself to summon up some of that Gryffindor courage and ignore the aching, and managed to start a lively conversation with Ron about the upcoming Ravenclaw/Slytherin Quidditch game.
He thought he'd been doing a fair job of hiding his discomfort. At least, he'd hoped so. Unfortunately for him, Hermione was at her observant best this morning. "Harry, you're acting awfully fidgety. It's as if you don't want to sit down. Is something the matter?"
Harry's first reaction to that statement was to look to the Slytherin table and see if Draco had entered the hall yet. He found the blonde staring at him from across the room. *Draco, this is all your fault.*
"Um...Harry?" Hermione put her hand to her friend's shoulder, concern and confusion thick in her voice.
Harry suddenly found himself blushing profusely. "It's nothing, Herm," he mumbled before channeling all of his energy into the task of eating his breakfast.
Not long after, class started. Harry had Care for Magical Creatures first. He considered it one of life's small mercies - a class where he didn't have to sit down. After that was History, and for an entire hour the Gryffindor was forced to sit through what was quite possibly the most boring lecture in the history of wizardkind. The only thing he had to distract him from the pain in his arse was the slight stirring in his underwear whenever he thought of the reason for that pain.
His third class of the day was Charms. As it had been with Draco's class, the period before, all Harry had to do was take notes. Everything progressed normally - for the first fifteen minutes of class, at least.
An odd rushing sound filled Harry's ears. He turned to Ron. The redhead's lips were moving, but Harry couldn't quite make out the words. In another moment, everything returned to normal. Harry blinked in confusion, shook his head, and returned to his notes.
Another few minutes passed. Ron turned to speak to him again. "I hope practice today isn't too hard."
"Oh yeah. About that, Ron - I might have to duck out early. I've been feeling a bit..."
*Pale fingers fiddled with trouser fastenings*
*and buried themselves in a thatch of dark blonde curls. They slipped lower to*
"Harry? You alright, mate?"
*grip the base of an engorged member. The skin was slick with some hurriedly applied lubrication. Lotion or*
"I'm fine, Ron. I'm just..."
*hair gel, quite likely. The hand slipped lower, flicking at the head of the exposed organ, then circling it gently. A soft*
"...having a bit of trouble concentrating is all. What did..."
*groan escaped parted lips. The fingers moved once again, seizing the flesh in a stranglehold. Smooth, hard strokes*
"...the professor just say?"
*moved up and down the shaft, growing increasingly harder. A cool shiver up the spine. A warm sweat between the thighs. The other hand moved around the body to slip between the cleft of two firm buttocks*
"Here - you can look at my notes."
*A slippery finger circled the puckered opening of the arse before pushing inward. Firm rotating motions prepared the way for another digit, then another. The twitching appendages couldn't seem to stretch quite far enough, but almost...almost...almost...*
Harry shot up from his chair, blurted out a hasty excuse, and fled the classroom. He ran through empty hallways and past deserted classrooms until he finally happened upon a darkened corner. He made his way toward a wall, pivoted, and slumped back against it.
*Strokes turned jerky, arrhythmic, careless. Tension and adrenaline flowed through the trembling body in waves. The long white column of a neck arched back. A head slammed painfully into the wall behind it. Eyes fluttered shut. Jaw clenched. And*
Harry came, pouring himself into the confines of his trousers, biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming. He crumbled to the floor, errant hormones still thrumming through his system, as post-coital languor gave way to unrestrained panic.
Draco cleaned himself up with a bit with of bathroom tissue and flushed the paper down the toilet. He then emerged from the stall. After splashing a bit of water on his face, he walked out of the room, heading towards the lunch hall.
The bell would ring soon.
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