Use Somebody

Chapter Three

With a heavy sigh, Harry collapsed back onto a bench, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them again to find that the scenery really was quite relaxing. The courtyard was open, rather than surrounded by corridors as many others were, and from where he sat he had a spectacular view of a particularly mountainous area of the school’s grounds. The sun was just beginning to set and he sat in still silence for many minutes, watching the sky change colors.

The last few days had been rough. Harry’s tumultuous feelings for Ginny had been rudely awoken. Ron was moodier by the day; lamenting his performance at Quidditch practices, inexplicably disturbed by Ginny and Dean’s snogging session that they had - very regrettably - interrupted several nights ago (Harry could only attribute Ron’s behavior to some kind of bizarre jealousy), and clashing with Hermione more than ever. Needless to say, Ron wasn’t making Harry’s life any easier. Harry had given peacekeeping an admirable attempt, but Ron’s new-found pugnacity just wasn’t easing up.

“Hey, Harry.”

Harry jumped at the sudden voice that broke through his thoughts. It was soft and seductive and for a few horrifying seconds Harry’s heart was pounding too loudly to let him hear anything, an unbelievable heat rose in his cheeks, and his vision went slightly blurry. She walked into his periphery; her dark hair and pale skin – given a faint glow by the moonlight – made her look ghostly. The smoke rising from her cigarette danced in the light breeze and seemed to wrap around her body lovingly.

“Hi,” he finally managed to choke out. “Didn’t think anyone was out here.”

He looked up at her, standing just a couple feet away from him. He tried to double-check his memory to make sure this was truly the girl he had seen in the Great Hall a few weeks ago. There was something about her that felt so very different now. He tried to shake it off. Trick of the light.

“Hey, you’re on my turf. I always come out here to smoke. This is the prettiest spot you can find without leaving the grounds. I’m Ely-”

“Elysia Waldgrave,” Harry finished for her boldly, getting back his bearings.

She smiled, dragging on her cigarette.

“So they’ve told you about me.”

Harry simply nodded. Elysia chuckled, looking thoroughly amused.

“Only the bad things, I hope,” she said, jokingly congenial.

Harry found himself slightly distracted with the way she exhaled as she spoke; the smoke seeming to caress her lips as it escaped her mouth, the curly gray wisps rising slowly into the night air, lingering briefly in the breeze before dying. Harry jerked his head slightly to one side, trying to knock himself out of it without seeming obvious.

“Warned me about you is more like it,” he replied after a silent lapse.

“I see…” Elysia said, sounding like she was giving thought to his words. “Well, do you think you should heed their warnings?”

“Not much to it,” he shrugged. “You don’t seem too scary to me.”

Elysia laughed heartily and sat down, uninvited and uncomfortably close to Harry.

“You wanna see how scary I can be?” she whispered, almost threateningly, her lips brushing against Harry’s neck.

She laid a hand on Harry’s chest, a hand which, very slowly, began to gravitate lower. Harry wouldn’t deny that Elysia turned him on, albeit in a weird way that was probably driven mostly by mystery and curiosity, but it was impossible for him to focus on her advances. He couldn’t help thinking of Ginny, that now-familiar savageness beginning to stir in him. At any given moment on any given day, Harry was carrying a thousand frustrations with him, frustrations over everything, and in a weighty moment of frightening realization, Harry wanted nothing more than to let Elysia help him with that. He could imagine how it might feel to let all that fall away, to let the world dwindle down to nothing more than sex. Maybe add some Firewhiskey to that equation. Let everything just drain away.

When Elysia pressed her lips to his, Harry thought that maybe he could think of Ginny. Just go for it all, pretending it was all with her. But the longer their lips lingered, the more certain he became that that would not work. He pushed Elysia away. If he couldn’t have Ginny, or if he wouldn’t be able to appreciate Elysia for what she was, want her for who she was, then he wouldn’t have anyone at all. Strangely, Elysia seemed to understand this, or at least understand that he was conflicted.

“Offer still stands, Harry,” she told him as she stood from the bench, “let me know when you change your mind.”

Then she simply turned and walked away, her air as casual as if the entire exchange between them had been about as mentally taxing and physically stimulating as brushing her teeth. Harry tried to think long and hard about how he felt about that – the indifference. But he could have sat outside until the sun rose again and he still wouldn’t have had a clear portrait of his emotions. The only thing he could feel very clearly was a fair amount of anger at her arrogance. The way she said ‘when you change your mind.’ That made him feel extremely competitive and he rolled around the idea of seriously challenging her. He wondered if he could get under her seemingly apathetic exterior if he, from now on, showed no interest in her advances. Or maybe that wouldn’t phase her at all. Maybe she really just didn’t give a damn, about anything. The mystery didn’t do much to make him not want her. He really shouldn’t have cared, but suddenly he wanted to know things about her. Completely against his will, he was interested. He knew that probably meant that Elysia had accomplished exactly what she’d set out to do.

*****

Having made her dramatic exit from Harry and leaving him to ponder his options, Elysia made her way to another of the castle’s numerous courtyards. She lit a new cigarette using the still-smoldering filter of her previous one, then discarded the butt carelessly. She sat on a stone bench, wrapped her jacket around her body against the wind, and remembered, quite unable to stop the memories as she looked out over the grounds….

*

It was last year, the best and most satisfying year to break rules, the prime time for rebellion, with Umbridge having established a Fascist hold over the school and joyously doling out punishment with an iron fist. As the rules were more and more strictly enforced, it became more and more fun to break them. On that particular night, Draco and Elysia had taken brooms out, far beyond the school’s grounds, setting down and making comfortable on a hilltop overlooking the sea. It was one of Elysia’s final corruptions of the tough-talking but naïve Draco. One of his last first-times.

“Ech. You’ll never get it that way, you know. You’re smoking it like a cigarette. Hold it in,” she instructed, barely containing her laughter as she watched the concentration on his face as he held the joint tentatively.

He took a good hit and dragged in a deep breath, holding it impressively before exhaling smoke in wracking coughs.

“Wonderful! That was perfect!” she cried laudingly as she greedily took the joint Draco shoved toward her, still coughing like mad.

Once Draco got the hang of taking a proper hit, the two of them shared the joint in silence, both letting themselves be swept away by their respective highs and looking out into the starry, moonlit night and the dark, abysmal ocean beyond their hill. Elysia stretched contentedly and laid back on the blanket they had spread over the grass, looking up at the stars. There were no city lights out here to obscure the brightness of the stars. It was so pure.

She watched Draco’s face as he seemed to be coming to grips with the experience. It was quite entertaining. He looked content and happy one moment, grinning, but then occasionally he would look as though he were concentrating intensely on something, almost distractedly, and shake his head as if trying to clear his mind or otherwise jar it back into its customary routines.

“You’re trying to fight it, aren’t you? Trying to tell yourself that it’s all normal? That surely all the clichés can’t be true?”

Draco seemed to move in groggy slow-motion, turning to look at her. Obviously peering at her through the haze. He nodded slowly.

“Just let it be. You’re not in control anymore,” she told him matter-of-factly, with a random little giggle she suppressed easily, lest it get the best of her.

“But I like being in control…” he drawled cutely, stretching his body languidly across the distance between them and hovering over her for a moment before kissing her.

“I know you do, honey,” she replied, just as cutely, when they had parted. “But there’s just as much to be said for losing it.”

Elysia stared up at Draco, suddenly being hit by the bizarre feeling of only now truly seeing him. Seeing him for the first time. Maybe the weed was warping her perception, or maybe it was opening Draco up and letting him show on the outside everything that was inside him, everything he usually hid under that mask of indifference. That phrase, a mask of indifference, it hit her very suddenly that she did the same thing. At that moment, in her mind, she and Draco could have been the same person, she saw them as being so alike. Looking at him, she suddenly wanted to cry, or scream, or something…he was so beautiful. The blackness of the night and the brightness of the moon and stars put shadows across the hollows of his face, his eyes and cheekbones, as if the night were leaving pieces of itself upon him. The paleness of his skin and hair struck a startling contrast to the darkness engulfing them. Looking at him, she was reminded of smoke. The way smoke danced and curled as it escaped the burning tip of a cigarette, seeming to flee to freedom into the still night air, white on black….

Elysia was still wrapping her mind around these ideas, linking thoughts together in strangled abstracts, as if her own consciousness had become a labyrinth and she was stumbling through it and trying to decide if she was enjoying herself in the quest for something unknown…when Draco leaned down to kiss her, the kind of kiss that meant more than a kiss. An initiating kiss.

As his lips caressed hers, his hands caressed her body, moving across her skin as if in worship, his fingers relieving her of any piece of clothing they happened upon. Time moved slowly, both of them seeming to feel and acknowledge the passing of every second as they each, almost painstakingly, removed the other’s clothing. Every second left an imprint of the second before in its wake, like watching a film frame-by-frame. A tangible yet invisible electricity flowed between the naked flesh of their bodies, an exhilarating yet excruciating need that both knew could never be fulfilled. Everything internal seemed to be screaming to be made external, seemed to be screaming to be made one, absorbed into the other.

When Draco finally pushed inside her, Elysia seemed to feel him deeper than what could be possible. His thrusts sent shock waves through her, so intense she imagined them physically, washing over her entire body with every push, ebbing with every pull. Her fingers gripped tightly the muscled bicep of one of his arms, her other hand clawing at his back, trying to pull him down to her as he pulled slightly away so as to keep the rhythm of his thrusts.

After what felt like hours, Draco leaned down to her, kissing her and then rolling back so that she found herself sitting astride him. While Draco’s pace had been quick, Elysia took up a slow and steady rhythm as she rode his cock, moving mostly back-and-forth rather than up-and-down, enjoying the feel of grinding against him, savoring it rather than rushing forward to final release. The volume of their respective moans competed; Elysia beginning to practically writhe atop him, seeming to be lost in exploring the various angles at which he could penetrate her and the various internal places he could reach, and Draco simply watching her pale body, bathed in the moonlight, and running his hands across her abdomen and up to her firm breasts, squeezing them gently, teasing one nipple with his thumb.

Elysia began to tire, after another incalculable passage of time, and Draco rolled them back over, once again atop her. The pace of his thrusts was more determined than ever now, his release was now an overwhelming need. Elysia seemed to feel the same, for, as he slammed into her, she wrapped her legs high around his waist and drug her fingernails down his arms. She was almost completely unable to catch her breath with the way loud, ragged moans were pouring from her lips, as if the sounds were ripped from her.

“Oh, Draco…I’m coming…Draco!”

Even as her internal muscles constricted around him, Draco continued pounding into her. Not because he wasn’t getting off, but because he felt a sudden and inexplicable surge of stamina; he felt as though he could go on forever…. But Elysia was still moaning his name, her voice thin through panting breaths, making it seem as though the utterance of his name had become as essential to her as breathing. And that, the way that his name fell so obsessively from Elysia’s lips was what did him in, sent him hurtling over the edge and making his momentary idea of seemingly infinite stamina seem distant and laughable. Draco clutched at Elysia’s soft thigh as he released inside of her, shouting his pleasure into the night with a kind of primal scream.

Draco collapsed upon her, adorably spent as he lay sprawled across her body, breathing heavily. Neither could speak for a long time. When the afterglow subsided and the comedown was inevitable, Elysia spoke.

“See? This is why we get high before we fuck.”

Draco let out a little laugh but seemed to be lost in thought.

“You okay? Still with me?”

He raised his head from her chest now and looked at her, his eyes dark and enigmatic.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Good.” She smiled.

They had both wanted to sleep on the hilltop that night, wishing perhaps that their wildest, most romantic dreams could come true after this unexpected awakening, but, of course, they dressed, flew the brooms back to the school, and arrived back in the common room, slipping into bed with only few hours left until the rest of the house would be waking.

*

Elysia’s heart suddenly ached for Draco at the memories. She wanted to see him, touch him, hold him. She wanted to rush back to the common room, sneak into the boys’ dormitory and crawl under the covers with Draco, and tangle her cold body up with his warm one. So that was exactly what she did. And for that night, her brief encounter with Harry seemed a lifetime away and, snuggled under the covers with Draco, she didn’t even spare a single thought for Harry Potter.