Strange Brew

Disclaimer: JKR’s not mine *sniff*
Beta: Thanks to , I wouldn’t be able to do this without her. Well I would but not with my dignity intact!

Chapter Three

Harry had never seen Malfoy this close up before, except that one time in fifth year, but he’d been too busy punching a hole in the blond’s stomach to focus on aesthetics. Harry took full advantage of Malfoy’s relatively passive mood to really look at him.

There was no denying it; Draco Malfoy was gorgeous. His skin was flawless, almost translucent, and his delicate bone structure and large grey eyes gave him an appearance of purity. The soft strands of silvery blonde hair falling around his face completed the angelic illusion. He was shorter than Harry, but his height and slight frame just added to his prettiness. Harry almost laughed aloud at the thought of Malfoy’s reaction to being called pretty, no doubt there would be a large amount of pain involved.

“Move, Potter,” Malfoy whispered hoarsely. But Harry didn’t dare move for fear of kindling the fire currently burning a hole in his pants.

He hadn’t had stirrings in that department since before the war, not since Michael. He hadn’t even known he was gay until the boy had pounced on him one evening at the lake. He’d really had little choice in the matter; being pounced on by Michael was rather like being attacked by a sexually motivated tornado.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. Why the hell did these things happen to him?

Malfoy, obviously frustrated with being ignored, gave a rather ineffectual thrust in what Harry thought was a woefully half-hearted attempt to dislodge him. This only resulted in Malfoy riding his thigh in an obscene manner, dragging Harry’s cock along his hip.

Harry shoved his leg further between Malfoy’s and cupped the smaller boy’s arse.

He watched grey eyes widen with panic, and he bit his lip hard when Malfoy’s attempts to wriggle away only succeeded in pushing his arse further into Harry’s hands. Harry had little choice but to retaliate with a lusty squeeze, which caused Malfoy to yelp and wriggle some more.

‘Good God, he really is asking for it,’ Harry thought, desperately trying not to rut against the squirming body. “Stop that!” he scolded sharply. “For Merlin’s sake, be still.”

Malfoy’s cock twitched against his thigh. ‘Ha! A kink. So, you like a bit of authority, do you?’ thought Harry chuckling softly.

“Let me go,” Malfoy whispered huskily.

“I don’t think so. In fact I think you should shut the fuck up and pay attention,” said Harry, coming to a sudden decision. He’d teach the little prick a lesson for acting so superior. Never wanked! As if that was too plebeian for the likes of Malfoy. He’d have him begging for it by the time he’d finished with him.

With a feral growl, Harry lifted Malfoy effortlessly up onto the table, knocking the bottle of butterbeer to the floor; it shattered, sending splintered shards of glass in all directions. Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide, clearly more than a little excited by being manhandled.

Harry settled between Malfoy’s splayed thighs and roughly parted the blonds robes. He managed to get his hands on the buttons of Malfoy’s trousers before the startled boy squeaked, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Don’t you touch me, you pervert.”

Harry looked up into the flushed face curiously. For someone protesting so loudly, he wasn’t making much of an effort to fight him off.

“Why not?” he asked, eyeing the bulge under the cloth of Malfoy’s trousers; it clearly wanted to be touched.

“Because it’s not hygienic! I don’t know where your grubby little hands have been.”

Harry glared at the stubborn blond. “My hands are not grubby.”

Malfoy scowled defiantly, and Harry sighed, “Fine, have it your way.”

Without taking his eyes away from Malfoy’s, Harry slowly unbuttoned his own trousers, glad that he hardly ever wore underwear. He pulled out his cock and began to touch himself, fingers trailing teasingly over his hard flesh. Malfoy’s eyes dropped to Harry’s hands, and his look of outrage gradually melted away and was replaced with blatant curiosity.

“Nice,” Harry whispered, gently taking himself in hand, “…feels good. Don’t you want to feel good, Malfoy?”

Malfoy whimpered.

Harry had never done anything like this before, never been so unashamedly wicked; it was heady. Seeing Malfoy’s eyelids droop, hearing the tiny hitch in his breath - it was rewarding indeed.

“That’s definitely not sanitary,” Malfoy whispered weakly, and Harry had to bite back a nervous giggle.

What the hell was he doing? This was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake - mean, bratty, sexy, hot Malfoy, spread out before him, watching his hand caress his cock with a keen, almost studious expression on his face. Harry’s hand sped up, and he groaned. Having the blond watch him was so unbelievably arousing.

It wasn\'t long before Malfoy’s bottom began to shift against the table. A battle was clearly taking place within the boy. He was grasping tightly at his thighs as though distracting his hands from other pursuits, undoubtedly trying to regain some kind of control.

Harry wasn’t having that, so he began to speak.

“I want you to touch me Malfoy, want it to be your hand stroking my cock.”

Malfoy made a desperate noise at the back of throat and shook his head violently.

‘Well that was a pretty adamant response,’ Harry thought, disgruntled.

In a last ditch attempt at seduction, Harry did something that he’d always wondered about.

“Why don’t you touch yourself, Draco” he hissed in Parseltongue, savouring the feel of Malfoy’s first name on his tongue, safe in the knowledge that the blond couldn’t possibly understand what he was saying.

”Let me watch you touch yourself.”

The words reverberated around the room, and Malfoy – who was staring at him like a charmed snake - gave a sudden cry of frustration and started to rub himself through his trousers.

When he grabbed at his trouser buttons frantically, Harry intervened. Malfoy had barely managed to free his own painfully aroused cock before he dragged the blond’s hands away, securing both in one of his own behind Malfoy’s back.

Malfoy cried out in protest and thrust his hips forward as if seeking out something, anything to rub against.

“Potter, you… you… bastard,” he growled. He looked flushed, annoyed and disturbingly cute with his cock poking out of his trousers.

“What do you want?” Harry teased, staring down at the needy creature.

“Oh…I,” Malfoy was speechless; incredible, the world really had gone mad.

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you,” Malfoy spat out, but his hips bucked traitorously even as he strained against Harry’s tight grip.

Harry chuckled, “Maybe some other time,” and wrapped his free hand around his own cock once more. He positioned it within an inch of Malfoy’s, nearly touching but not quite, and began to stroke himself again, slower this time. Malfoy’s face was flushed and sweaty; his eyes were back on Harry’s cock.

“Why are you doing this?” Malfoy asked desperately.

“Because it feels good – look!”

He rubbed the head of his cock against Malfoy’s; they slid against each other wetly.

Malfoy hips surged forward, and their cocks kissed for a brief moment before Harry drew back cruelly, causing grey eyes to bleach silver with tears of frustration.

“Tell me what you want,” Harry demanded.

Malfoy whimpered, his eyes pleading.

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Oh fuck.”

“Tell me,” he ordered and swiped a finger over the glistening head of Malfoy’s cock, gathering the pre-come onto his finger and sucking it into his mouth. Malfoy watched Harry’s every move, his eyes hungry.

“Please!”

Harry slowly drew the finger out of his mouth, his head tilted to one side in enquiry.

“Let go of my hands.”

“Why?”

“Want to touch myself,” Malfoy whispered sulkily, and hung his head in shame.

Harry smiled and quickly released Malfoy’s hands. Malfoy immediately wrapped his hand around his own cock with a soft cry, but he was inexperienced and tugged too fast for Harry’s taste. He wanted this to last just a little longer.

“No.” Harry chastised, “Watch.” Harry grasped Malfoy’s pale hand in his own, linking their fingers together just so and wrapped them both around their straining erections. Malfoy’s mouth widened in a silent scream as the touch registered. Then they were grasping together, pulling at their hard flesh as one.

“Oh Merlin that feels…” Malfoy’s moaned words trailed off into a wail, his neck arched as Harry buried his face in Malfoy’s finely boned shoulder and began to thrust up into the channel created by their hands. The feel of Malfoy’s cock rubbing against his own, pushing, seeking the same destination was the hottest thing Harry had ever experience in his entire life.

He was long past the point of caring about the fact that what he was doing was wrong, a big fat bucket full of wrong. Besides every one was acting so bizarrely what was one more act of mindless madness.

“I’m not gay!” Malfoy cried out in an obvious attempt to hold on to his sanity.

“Whatever,” Harry panted, not caring in the slightest. He sped up their strokes, tugging fast and hard and watched Malfoy’s eyes roll back, pink lips parted temptingly.

“Want to kiss you,” Harry moaned.

“No,” Malfoy pleaded.

Harry bent forward and licked Malfoy’s exposed collarbone then nuzzled the slender neck, breathing in the sent of vanilla that clung to his hot skin.

“Please let me kiss you, Malfoy,” he whispered silkily in the other boy’s ear and trailed a line of soft kisses along his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

Malfoy shuddered and whined. His tongue poked out cautiously and Harry licked it gently. That was all it took, both boys came together, moaning softly into each other’s mouths.

~

Harry stared at their clasped hands. The embarrassing by-product leaking through their fingers was sobering to say the least.

“Oh, this is not happening,” Malfoy murmured softly.

Harry muttered “Scourify”, and almost fell over his feet in his attempt to put distance between them. They both buttoned up their trousers in mortified silence.

Malfoy jumped down from the table, wobbled, and fell forward into Harry’s waiting arms. Harry cursed his instinctively helpful nature as Malfoy pulled away from him and fell back into the table knocking his copy of the Quibbler to the floor. It sprang open on a middle page spread - a photograph of a naked boy taking a shower with his back to the camera.

‘Not gay, my arse,’ thought Harry, smirking at the picture.

The smirk froze on his face.

“Oh, my God! That’s me,” he yelled, reaching for the magazine.

Malfoy snatched up the magazine before Harry could touch it.

“Bloody Hell! Where did they get that picture?” Harry shrieked indignantly, still trying to reach for the magazine.

Malfoy held it behind his back. “Well, gosh, now let me think. Who do we know with a camera and an unhealthy obsession with ‘The Boy Who Lived’?” he sneered.

Harry glared at him, realisation dawning. He clenched his fist and shook with fury. The air crackled.

“Are you going to hurt him, Potter?” Malfoy whispered, thrilled, all embarrassment and anger forgotten.

“Hurt him?” Harry fumed, “I’m going to wipe the floor with is floppy hair do.”

Malfoy smirked, his eyes glazing over.

“Give me the magazine, Malfoy.”

Malfoy lost the smirk.

Tbc.