Poppet

Authors Note: Many thanks to my uber brilliant beta Laurel. She's a lifesaver with her notes and corrections (or at the very least a chapter saver) You should go read her work as well, you'll find it under the screenname DreamingInColour in my favorite authors. We've started a joint fiction where we'll alternate between Harry and Draco's POV, she'll be taking Harry and I'll be taking Draco. Should be entertaining to say the least. *grin. We'll start posting it after the new year.

Chapter 3 Feelings of Helplessness

Harry woke up to the feeling of lips around his cock.

He kicked frantically at the blankets to try and throw off his seductive attacker, but just as in Potions class there was no one to shove away. The sensation progressed however, and it seemed to matter very little to Harry’s body that there was no logical explanation for him to feel soft hands caressing him, or hot lips on his flesh.

His back arched from the bed as the phantom mouth continued to lick and suck at him and in a moment of bliss inspired terror, he cried out his orgasm, clutching the sheets while waiting for the invisible touches to fade, as they always did.

With a startling motion the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed ripped back and Ron’s face hovered in the gap looking concerned and then suddenly mortified as he quickly shoved the curtains back into place and cleared his throat loudly as Harry pulled his blankets up over his soiled trousers.

“Mate, you know the rules. You’re supposed to use a silencing charm if you need… er… privacy,” Ron stuttered.

Harry was exceedingly grateful for the set of thick burgundy curtains in between him and Ron. “I’m sorry mate, I just woke up from a weird… dream… and forgot,” Harry lied, still unsure as to how he could explain the odd phenomenon that continued to follow him everywhere he went.

“I don’t need to know!” Ron barked, not in anger, but from embarrassment.

“It was so realistic,” Harry muttered distractedly, not really talking to Ron, but rather reliving the deep ache of desire he had awoken with.

“Stop,” Ron protested. “Really mate, I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?” Harry asked, drawn out of his musings by Ron’s urgent protest.

“If it was about my sister, I really don’t want to hear about it, and if it wasn’t… well, I’m in a difficult position either way,” Ron muttered, sounding as if he was walking toward the door.

Ron had assumed that Harry and his sister would get back together and that their fight was akin to arguments he had with Hermione on a fairly regular basis, but when weeks passed and neither party seemed particularly interested in a reunion, he had to finally admit that Harry would never be his brother in truth, only in theory.

“Ron,” Harry called out, but his petulant friend didn’t answer, and when Harry pulled back the curtains he saw that he was suddenly alone in the room. Ron had been deftly avoiding the subject of his sister since their breakup, which was typically fine by him until Ron decided to storm away, have a tantrum or just otherwise ignore him altogether when the subject did pop up.

He felt like he was letting his friend down somehow by not dating Ginny, but regardless of how long Ron kept his distance, the longer he stayed apart from Ginny, the more certain he was that dating her to begin with had been a mistake.

Though he didn’t need nor want to think on his recent break up with Ginny, not when he had more troublesome thinks to think about. Now he only had to figure out what this new menace on his life was, this new ghost that haunted his body, controlling him and forcing him into things he had never before experienced.

“Now what we have here is an Albino Draconic Scorpion,” Hagrid announced as the students filed into the large forest clearing, chattering and pointing at the ominous looking monster beside the Care of Magical Creatures professor.

The beast was large, nearly coming up to Hagrid’s knees, and with its pale armored stinger raised into the air; it was taller than even Hagrid. Its shell looked like mother of pearl, glistening in the dappled sunlight trickling through the trees, which stood out in stark contrast to its beady crimson eyes and massive dangerous looking pincers.

The creature skittered around beside the professor, taking great interest in the young crowd of gawking students and turned then to Hagrid, who nodded after a moment.

“Can anyone tell me what the name of this here creature means?” Hagrid asked the class.

Hermione raised her hand at once and the professor nodded to her, as if he already knew she would be the first to respond. “Albino clearly refers to its coloring and lack of pigmentation, and Draconic means ‘like a dragon’,” she answered stiffly and then stepped back, not wanting to be too close to the creature.

“Good, good Mione. And would anyone like tere take a guess at how this creature is like a dragon?” Hagrid asked, looking around at the waiting class, but no hand shot into the air, not even Hermione’s.

“These scorpions possess a trait tha’s often shared, but not well known, in most if not all dragon species,” Hagrid added, giving the students a hint. He scanned the crowd once more until he called on Ron, who had reluctantly raised his hand.

“My brother Charlie once told me that older dragon’s can control your mind,” Ron muttered while staring at his shoes.

“Tha’s right,” Hagrid boomed happily and Hermione beamed at her boyfriend, clearly proud of him for having the correct answer. “Well, it’s mostly right anyhow.”

“Yeh see dragons have lived for ages longer than any human, and their minds work differen’ly from ours. They’re able to project images and speak tere us using their advanced mental telepathy and can sometimes even influence someone’s thoughts. They don’ often use this trait on humans, but all dragons have the innate ability to connect with other minds, to create an unbreakable bond between themselves and another. It’s how some of them find their mates,” Hagrid added as an afterthought before patting the giant armored creature at his side.

“The Draconic Scorpion can do the same,” he said before pausing, seemingly listening to the scorpion’s silent words.

Harry tried to slink to the back of the group without being noticed, as Hagrid seemed to love calling on him first to pet or feed or ride his often dangerous creatures. As he moved backwards he accidentally bumped squarely into a warm solid body behind him and whirled to find himself nose to nose with Malfoy.

“Watch it, Potter,” he drawled, but there was not the usual venom in his voice that Harry was used to hearing.

Harry just rolled his eyes and tried to move away, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist roughly and pulled him close. “You really ought to pay attention, Potter. This lesson is fascinating,” he whispered against his ear, causing Harry to shiver.

With a rough yank, Harry freed himself of Malfoy’s grasp and moved as far away from him as he could. Something about the touch seemed far too familiar, far too… well, nice, and as he moved away he caught the brilliant smirk and the shining eyes of his enemy and shuddered.

Malfoy was definitely up to something, and, for the first time since their breakup, Harry began to wonder if there wasn’t something more to Ginny’s assumptions. Perhaps his two pains – the sudden loss of control and Malfoy’s constant presence – were in fact related somehow.

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It was folly that made Draco summon Potter to his common room. Folly, and a craving for a strawberry milkshake.

He knew it was foolish, even as he wielded the doll that took Potter from his warm feather bed and down to the kitchens. He knew this single brazen act could be the one that spoiled everything and made Potter aware of his secret control over him. He knew this even as he watched through Potter’s eyes as the strawberry ice cream was pulled from the icebox. He knew, even as he forced the Gryffindor to spoon three scoops of it into the waiting blender – a machine Draco had only heard rumors of and was pleased to learn that Potter was familiar with- and pour the whole milk over the entire concoction and mix it together.

Certainly it wasn’t beyond his own capabilities to go to the kitchens and fix his own milkshake. he had indulged his late night cravings on his own long before he had his poppet, but Draco saw it as a challenge and he was never one to resist a challenge.

He was noticing more often, particularly since their run in during Care of Magical Creatures the week before, that controlling Potter was becoming more difficult. Not everything, but some things, even mundane tasks, were taking more effort for Draco than they had before.

Sexual exploits were still the easiest and were virtually unchallenged by Potter, which typically worked just fine for Draco. It seemed that Potter was either so inexperienced that he didn’t know how to fight against Draco’s machinations, or he simply didn’t want to.

Draco would have liked to think it was the latter, but truth be told he suspected the former, especially after his declaration to Ginevra before they broke up.

He felt the cravings burn within him still, both the craving for sweet strawberries and the craving to control Potter’s body right into his bed. It was impossible to think such a thing would work though, and even his loose Slytherin morals didn’t allow him to contemplate the option of forcing Potter into sex.

At least not for very long.

He was pleased to find that his experiment was working though, and Draco found his Potter puppet to be unusually receptive to his demands tonight. As he walked into the common room to find it empty save for a tall fluted glass containing his strawberry milkshake, he felt a wave of victory and satisfaction flow over him.

Draco’s thirst for domination over the Gryffindor and his midnight snack cravings were both quenched with a single act and he went to bed sated, deciding to wait and see what the fallout from his reckless behavior would be in the morning.

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It was a Slytherin, and Harry knew if there was one Slytherin who would do something to annoy, injure or even potentially kill him, it was Malfoy.

He had been almost excited to feel the familiar whisper of another voice in his head. Normally it was a low erotic moan buzzing in his ear, but this… this was a direct command, and Harry was happy to follow it.

Part of him felt compelled to follow the instructions given because it was ordered of him, but the rest of him wanted to see where it would lead him.

It led him to the Slytherin common room; at least it ended there, after Malfoy was done making him play house elf. He wanted to stay and confront Malfoy but something inside of him made him turn away and go back up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Still, he knew who was behind his recent strange behavior now and he would make Malfoy pay.

It was with this in mind that he stormed up to the vile boy during their free period in the library. Malfoy was sitting at a table by himself reading a thick tome and paying no mind to his surroundings when Harry took the seat across from him.

“Is it a spell?” he asked right off, ignoring any pleasantries. His abruptness genuinely startled Malfoy and the boy nearly jumped from his skin.

“Is what a spell?” he asked, holding the place he was reading with his thumb and looking at the spine of the book.

“What you’re doing to me, is it a spell?” Harry asked again.

“I’m not doing anything to you, Potter,” Malfoy replied, a mischievous glint in his cool gray eyes.

“You can let go of the ruse now, Malfoy. I know that you’re behind this somehow, so you can either come clean, or we can take it up with McGonagall,” Harry spat.

Draco rolled his eyes and let his body lounge gracefully in his chair, while Harry pretended not to notice how easily the boy rebuked his threat. “And what exactly would you tell the Headmistress?” Draco asked smoothly, a smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

“I…” Harry began before realizing he didn’t have a good response and suddenly he wanted to strangle the infuriating git. Harry realized Malfoy knew all along that he would never feel comfortable talking about it with anyone; in fact, he had counted on it. His forehead creased heavily as he frowned at Malfoy’s smugly triumphant grin.

“Perhaps you merely have a secret admirer,” Draco offered with a knowing look, and Harry blanched.

“What… you… but,” Harry stammered, not understanding exactly what the Slytherin meant by his comment. Did Malfoy think of him romantically? No, that was impossible.

There was no way a pureblood aristocratic wizard like Draco Malfoy would ever feel the need to venture outside the realm of arranged marriages and sound pureblood matches. He was obviously only trying to throw him off the trail he had been leaving behind to prevent Harry from discovering the true reason behind his actions.

Harry stood up abruptly, making Malfoy blink in mild surprise; quite frankly Harry was happy to get any reaction out of Malfoy’s typically stony façade. “I’ll be watching you,” he warned as he turned to leave the library.

“I’m counting on it,” Malfoy called after him with a wicked chuckle.

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Harry paced the warm fire lit expanse of the Gryffindor common room as he waited for the last students to go to bed. He preferred to be alone most of the time, and even the smattering of first and third years sitting in front of the fire who ignored him completely was too much company.

After a while, they finally ventured up to their own dorms and Harry lounged on the sofa in front of the hearth. Nothing had occurred in two days, ever since his talk with Malfoy. He thought maybe he had warned the boy off until suddenly the arousal gripped him worse than ever in the Great Hall at dinner that night.

He recalled how his eyes had immediately flicked up to where Malfoy sat, looking smug as ever as Harry shuddered and was forced to flee the hall before another orgasm took him in front of the entire student body.

It was humiliating and embarrassing, yet it felt so good that a part of him never wanted it to stop. That part of him, a very tiny, whimpering and weak part of him, was crushed into nonexistence as he threw himself into a broom cupboard in order to ride the pleasure out in private.

He wasn’t even able to get to his own quarters, as soon as the doors to the Great Hall shut behind him the arousal doubled and then tripled as he felt hands and lips roaming his body, pulling his hair and penetrating his body.

All at once he felt both violated and more turned on than he ever had before; he didn’t know what Malfoy was doing, but he knew he both needed it to continue and needed it to stop all at once. It was driving him slowly insane that he was not able to control his own body and he wondered what Malfoy was playing at.

Was he trying to drive him to distraction so that he could get away with some sinister plan? Did he just want to torment him until he finally snapped and had to be committed? Or was he merely playing games with him in revenge for winning the war?

Harry whimpered and fell to his knees, clutching an old grungy mop for support as the feeling of warm hands around his cock made his legs wobble beneath him. With a scream he let the orgasm take him as it rolled over and through him.

He took a deep shuddering breath as the waves of pleasure died away and he spelled away the mess on his robes once more. He was starting to become a pro at cleaning charms.

Harry recalled how he had to sneak out of the cupboard and up to his common room; he remembered the concern on Hermione’s face when she greeted him at the portrait hole, pressing her delicate hands to his face forehead to feel for a fever. “Harry, you’re flushed,” she cooed, her expectant eyes waiting for an explanation that Harry couldn’t give.

Those same chocolate brown eyes met his now as Hermione stood at the top of the landing, looking down at Harry with sisterly concern. “Harry,” she whispered. “You’ve been distant tonight.”

“I have a lot on my mind,” he replied, making room for her on the sofa. Even though he didn’t want an interrogation, he knew Hermione always got the information she craved one way or another, so there was no use fighting her on it.

She sat beside him and ran a small hand through his violently messy locks. “Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to hex it out of you?” she asked, only partially teasing.

“I think Malfoy is trying to seduce me,” Harry admitted without further prompting.

He was surprised at how easy the declaration fell from his lips and he laughed at the absurdity of it, which was a relief to Hermione who was trying to stifle her own giggle.

“What does that mean?” she asked at last, knowing that there must have been something to his statement.

Harry sighed and curled up against her. “I’m not sure. He’s been… doing things to me… but I can’t prove it, and I don’t even know how he’s doing it so I can’t make him stop.”

“What kind of things?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in thought.

“Er… sexual things,” Harry muttered uncomfortably, partially hoping to Merlin Hermione hadn’t heard him to save him the shame, but also hoping she had so that he didn’t have to repeat it.

Was there even a single emotion he didn’t feel conflicted about lately?

“Like rape?” She asked, suddenly frantic, but Harry’s eyes went wide and he shook his head.

“No, no, he never actually touches me… it’s just a feeling,” Harry amended.

“Awake or sleeping?” she asked clinically after she had calmed.

“Both,” Harry replied, happy that she was taking a very professional route to his diagnosis. She would make an excellent Healer one day.

“Hmm, is he around when it happens or not?” she asked.

“Both,” Harry admitted.

“Very curious,” she mused to herself. “Do you enjoy it?” she asked suddenly, taking Harry off guard.

“What? No, I mean, no!” Harry replied, rather too quickly and much louder than he had meant to.

She narrowed her eyes again and seemed to file it away for later processing. “I’ll have to think on it,” she said at last. “I’ll help you figure this out though.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. He knew Hermione was good on her word, and if anyone could figure out what Malfoy was doing to him it was her.

Authors Note: So I used the last of the keywords given in the original challenge. Blender was the hardest, but I think I made it work. lol. Strawberry Milkshakes to all who review.