A Good Boy
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
22,018
Reviews:
96
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
22,018
Reviews:
96
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, and I do not make money from this story.
Chapter Three - Blackmail
AN: Thank you all for the amazing reviews! :D I can't really believe you like my story.. So awsome! :D Hope you like chapter 3!
Chapter Three – Blackmail
It was not the first time Draco had been in this room. It was a room near the northern tower, never used by anyone but Draco. It was his favourite room in the whole castle. He took out the knife from his pocket. It was such a beautiful knife, with emeralds all over the handle. Draco always took a few seconds admiring the way the moonlight cast green dots on the floor, shining through the gemstones. He carefully ran his thumb over the blade, before pushing the edge lightly against the tip of his thumb. He felt himself relax when he saw the small droplets of blood escaping from the tiny, little wound. He gently placed the blade against his upper arm and pressed down as he cut a gash along his entire upper arm. He hissed at the pain and relished in the adrenaline rush that came with it. These were his favourite moments in life. When the pain from a wound overshadowed everything else, he could finally feel free. Even from Harry’s disgusted look.
The first time he had done it, he was very afraid of what Snape would say about the wound. He was glad to see he was not upset. He just looked at it for a few seconds, and then continued as though nothing were out of the ordinary. The day after, he taught the class how to brew a potion that closed up wounds. Draco was very happy. He hated having to scar his flawless skin. He brewed the potion, used it, and was very disappointed. The wound closed up as it was supposed to, but it still left a scar. Apparently Snape liked scars. Draco did not use it again. But he always carried it around with him, in case he would cut too deep.
By now he was covered in scars. Some of them were faded; it was a long time ago he started this. Some were new. He hated seeing himself all marked up, but he knew he would not be able to live without it. It was his way of escaping reality. And tonight he really wanted to stop thinking about Harry, and the way he had looked at him. For some reason, it unsettled Draco more than it should have.
----------
Harry was very quiet all through breakfast the next morning. He wanted to tell Ron and Hermione, but knew he could not. He had promised after all. They did not notice anything though, too preoccupied of each other to notice anything going on around them. Harry wondered when they would realize themselves that they were more than friends. Harry, for sure, was not going to point it out to them. As a matter of fact, he hoped it would all fade away. He felt a little left out. Instead of listening to them he continued his thoughts from yesterday. He had come down to two options. Either he would use it to get Draco to tell him their strategy for the next game, or he would use it to find out what he was doing in that room. If he were Slytherin, he probably would have done both, but he was a noble Gryffindor after all. He would only use this to his advantage once. He had finally decided on the Quidditch-tactics (after all he could find out about the room in some other way) when Ron interrupted his thoughts.
“Harry? Hey, Harry?”’
“What? What is it Ron?”
“Awake? I was just wondering how it went last night. Did you discover anything?”
“Oh, that. No. No, nothing at all.”
“See,” Hermione cut in, “he’s just a nasty little boy. He might get dangerous when he’s older, but right now he can’t do anything. Especially not under the nose of Professor Dumbledore.”
Harry did not say anything. He had completely forgotten why he had gone down there in the first place. His suspicions had left him the minute he saw Draco coming out of that door. He quickly excused himself as his dick reminded him of just how good he had looked. He needed a cold shower. He knew he did not dislike boys, but this was Draco Malfoy. The only good thing about him was his looks. Other than that he was just a nasty, evil, little ferret.
-----------
Later that night, Draco was on his way to his dorm when someone dragged him through an open door to his right. He was actually relieved when he saw Harry standing across from him. He thought he would have had to give up his hopes for a Snape-empty night. His relief was quickly disappearing though, as Harry stood looking at him.
“What do you want, Potter?” He looked as though it was exactly the question he was waiting for.
“What do I want? I want to know Slytherins tactics for the next game.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why the fuck would I give them to you?”
Harry grinned wickedly. “Because I know something. And I know I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but there are other ways to inform people of this, you know.”
Draco’s stomach dropped to the bottom of his shoes. He had hoped the Harry would not use this against him. Of course he was wrong, though; why would anything go his way?
“Potter, don’t make me turn on my house-mates.”
“Fine. See you later Snape-fucker.”
Draco took a deep breath. He could not believe he would actually have to do this. “Fine Potter, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Great.” Harry smiled. Draco’s heart began pounding a bit harder, but he did not know if it was for Harry’s smile or for his blackmailing.
“And don’t you dare change them, or something unpleasant will happen.”
‘Fine,’ Draco thought. ‘For the black-mail it is.’
----------
A few weeks later, Draco was heading down do Snape’s chambers. He felt more depressed than normal. They had lost the game yesterday, and for some reason they all suspected him. Not even his great Malfoy poker face could fool them. So now they did not talk to him. It was a nasty turn of events, seeing as he now had far too much time to think. And even if they were not really friends, he still cared for them to some extent. He wondered for how long this would continue. He hated Harry for doing this to him. Why did he have to be such an arse?
These kinds of thoughts continued as he greeted his master. When everything started, he did not think anymore though. He had perfected the art of drifting away.
Suddenly, Draco was drawn out of his blank state of mind when he felt Snape’s hand reach around him. This was not how it was supposed to be. Draco did not understand what was happening. Why did Snape have to change things? As long as everything was as it always was he could just let his mind go blank. This was something new though. Snape began stroking Draco’s cock along with his thrusts.
“Master, what are you doing?”
Snape did not respond, only increased the speed of his stroking. Draco felt a jolt inside of him. Snape angled his thrusts and hit something deep inside of Draco, causing another jolt. He had never felt it before, and he did not like this new feeling at all. He knew he did not have any say in this, but he wanted it to stop so badly.
“Please, Master, stop! Don’t do this! Please!” He continued to beg his master as he felt more jolts. Snape did not seem to notice though, he did not even tell him to shut up. He just sped up the more Draco begged. And the more he sped up, the more Draco begged. Soon he could feel something building up inside of him, and he came spurting out his semen all over the floor he was kneeling on. It was something he had never felt before. Even though he was very experienced in the sexual department, he had never come. For some reason he had never felt tempted to touch himself.
The clenching of Draco’s walls pulled Snape over the brink as well. A few seconds later Snape pulled out, cleaned himself up, and exited the door, leaving Draco alone with his shame. As soon as the door closed, he started sobbing, crying helplessly into the night.
When he tried to stand up about an hour later, he started puking, emptying his stomach of all its contents. Having an orgasm was, without competition, the single most nauseating feeling he had ever felt, and he could not imagine why anyone would do that willingly. He felt so used, so dirty. When he was done puking, he hurried to his dorms, got his knife, and then headed for the northern tower. A mere few seconds after the door was closed, Draco had taken off his shirt and was holding the knife to his chest. Without hesitating he cut a long gash down to his bellybutton. He waited for the feeling of freedom, but it did not come. All he could feel was repulsion. He did a similar cut to the side of the first one.
He still felt filthy. He paused and pondered over his situation. Then he took a deep breath, pressed the knife against his abdomen and cut deeper than he ever had before. Blood was washing out from the wound as he kneeled on the floor. He knew he had cut too deep. He took out the bottle of wound-closing potion he always carried with him and nearly opened it. Instead he just let it slip out of his fingers. He did not want to use it.
It was not the first time Draco had been in this room. It was a room near the northern tower, never used by anyone but Draco. It was his favourite room in the whole castle. He took out the knife from his pocket. It was such a beautiful knife, with emeralds all over the handle. Draco always took a few seconds admiring the way the moonlight cast green dots on the floor, shining through the gemstones. He carefully ran his thumb over the blade, before pushing the edge lightly against the tip of his thumb. He felt himself relax when he saw the small droplets of blood escaping from the tiny, little wound. He gently placed the blade against his upper arm and pressed down as he cut a gash along his entire upper arm. He hissed at the pain and relished in the adrenaline rush that came with it. These were his favourite moments in life. When the pain from a wound overshadowed everything else, he could finally feel free. Even from Harry’s disgusted look.
The first time he had done it, he was very afraid of what Snape would say about the wound. He was glad to see he was not upset. He just looked at it for a few seconds, and then continued as though nothing were out of the ordinary. The day after, he taught the class how to brew a potion that closed up wounds. Draco was very happy. He hated having to scar his flawless skin. He brewed the potion, used it, and was very disappointed. The wound closed up as it was supposed to, but it still left a scar. Apparently Snape liked scars. Draco did not use it again. But he always carried it around with him, in case he would cut too deep.
By now he was covered in scars. Some of them were faded; it was a long time ago he started this. Some were new. He hated seeing himself all marked up, but he knew he would not be able to live without it. It was his way of escaping reality. And tonight he really wanted to stop thinking about Harry, and the way he had looked at him. For some reason, it unsettled Draco more than it should have.
Harry was very quiet all through breakfast the next morning. He wanted to tell Ron and Hermione, but knew he could not. He had promised after all. They did not notice anything though, too preoccupied of each other to notice anything going on around them. Harry wondered when they would realize themselves that they were more than friends. Harry, for sure, was not going to point it out to them. As a matter of fact, he hoped it would all fade away. He felt a little left out. Instead of listening to them he continued his thoughts from yesterday. He had come down to two options. Either he would use it to get Draco to tell him their strategy for the next game, or he would use it to find out what he was doing in that room. If he were Slytherin, he probably would have done both, but he was a noble Gryffindor after all. He would only use this to his advantage once. He had finally decided on the Quidditch-tactics (after all he could find out about the room in some other way) when Ron interrupted his thoughts.
“Harry? Hey, Harry?”’
“What? What is it Ron?”
“Awake? I was just wondering how it went last night. Did you discover anything?”
“Oh, that. No. No, nothing at all.”
“See,” Hermione cut in, “he’s just a nasty little boy. He might get dangerous when he’s older, but right now he can’t do anything. Especially not under the nose of Professor Dumbledore.”
Harry did not say anything. He had completely forgotten why he had gone down there in the first place. His suspicions had left him the minute he saw Draco coming out of that door. He quickly excused himself as his dick reminded him of just how good he had looked. He needed a cold shower. He knew he did not dislike boys, but this was Draco Malfoy. The only good thing about him was his looks. Other than that he was just a nasty, evil, little ferret.
Later that night, Draco was on his way to his dorm when someone dragged him through an open door to his right. He was actually relieved when he saw Harry standing across from him. He thought he would have had to give up his hopes for a Snape-empty night. His relief was quickly disappearing though, as Harry stood looking at him.
“What do you want, Potter?” He looked as though it was exactly the question he was waiting for.
“What do I want? I want to know Slytherins tactics for the next game.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why the fuck would I give them to you?”
Harry grinned wickedly. “Because I know something. And I know I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but there are other ways to inform people of this, you know.”
Draco’s stomach dropped to the bottom of his shoes. He had hoped the Harry would not use this against him. Of course he was wrong, though; why would anything go his way?
“Potter, don’t make me turn on my house-mates.”
“Fine. See you later Snape-fucker.”
Draco took a deep breath. He could not believe he would actually have to do this. “Fine Potter, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Great.” Harry smiled. Draco’s heart began pounding a bit harder, but he did not know if it was for Harry’s smile or for his blackmailing.
“And don’t you dare change them, or something unpleasant will happen.”
‘Fine,’ Draco thought. ‘For the black-mail it is.’
A few weeks later, Draco was heading down do Snape’s chambers. He felt more depressed than normal. They had lost the game yesterday, and for some reason they all suspected him. Not even his great Malfoy poker face could fool them. So now they did not talk to him. It was a nasty turn of events, seeing as he now had far too much time to think. And even if they were not really friends, he still cared for them to some extent. He wondered for how long this would continue. He hated Harry for doing this to him. Why did he have to be such an arse?
These kinds of thoughts continued as he greeted his master. When everything started, he did not think anymore though. He had perfected the art of drifting away.
Suddenly, Draco was drawn out of his blank state of mind when he felt Snape’s hand reach around him. This was not how it was supposed to be. Draco did not understand what was happening. Why did Snape have to change things? As long as everything was as it always was he could just let his mind go blank. This was something new though. Snape began stroking Draco’s cock along with his thrusts.
“Master, what are you doing?”
Snape did not respond, only increased the speed of his stroking. Draco felt a jolt inside of him. Snape angled his thrusts and hit something deep inside of Draco, causing another jolt. He had never felt it before, and he did not like this new feeling at all. He knew he did not have any say in this, but he wanted it to stop so badly.
“Please, Master, stop! Don’t do this! Please!” He continued to beg his master as he felt more jolts. Snape did not seem to notice though, he did not even tell him to shut up. He just sped up the more Draco begged. And the more he sped up, the more Draco begged. Soon he could feel something building up inside of him, and he came spurting out his semen all over the floor he was kneeling on. It was something he had never felt before. Even though he was very experienced in the sexual department, he had never come. For some reason he had never felt tempted to touch himself.
The clenching of Draco’s walls pulled Snape over the brink as well. A few seconds later Snape pulled out, cleaned himself up, and exited the door, leaving Draco alone with his shame. As soon as the door closed, he started sobbing, crying helplessly into the night.
When he tried to stand up about an hour later, he started puking, emptying his stomach of all its contents. Having an orgasm was, without competition, the single most nauseating feeling he had ever felt, and he could not imagine why anyone would do that willingly. He felt so used, so dirty. When he was done puking, he hurried to his dorms, got his knife, and then headed for the northern tower. A mere few seconds after the door was closed, Draco had taken off his shirt and was holding the knife to his chest. Without hesitating he cut a long gash down to his bellybutton. He waited for the feeling of freedom, but it did not come. All he could feel was repulsion. He did a similar cut to the side of the first one.
He still felt filthy. He paused and pondered over his situation. Then he took a deep breath, pressed the knife against his abdomen and cut deeper than he ever had before. Blood was washing out from the wound as he kneeled on the floor. He knew he had cut too deep. He took out the bottle of wound-closing potion he always carried with him and nearly opened it. Instead he just let it slip out of his fingers. He did not want to use it.