Literature, Smut, and Adult Themes

A/N: At the end of Chapter 12, change “...Cho’s face stood out” to “...Draco’s face stood out”.

The appearance of the sign in the Entrance Hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Harry went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumours were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beaxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Harry noticed, too, that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning; however, Harry’s complete attention was fixed on his date with Draco Malfoy. He couldn’t think about much else, and during the entire day of the date, he was in another land during his classes.

It was now eight o’clock, and Harry was sitting in an alcove near the top of the Astronomy Tower, his heart pounding in nervousness, his limbs shaking, and his mind...expectant and hopeful. The air blowing in the open windows was rather cold, but he didn’t mind – not if it meant a good night to come.

He had spent the week largely thinking about what they would say to one another, what they would actually do...Harry didn’t know how dates worked, and he certainly had never been on one. Sure, they had kissed, so that gave them some comfortable familiarity, but it also removed a ‘base’ in dating rituals...tonight, by that logic, they would surely make out, which would mean that they could only evolve to something else...

Something higher....

More daring...

To sex!


***


It was nine thirty, and Harry was getting worried. It had been an hour and a half, and there was still no Draco. He had surely gotten the day, time, and place correct – as far as his memory could go, for he was too hopeful not to; but Draco was nowhere to be seen. The hard-on that had risen around eight thirty was now dying, and Harry was ready to head on home. He threw on his invisibility cloak, as it was now dark, and began the slow trudge to his common room.

What was it, that had stopped Draco from coming? Did Harry say something over the week? Was Draco going through some turmoil at home? Did he hate Harry now? Did he...god forbid...find someone else?

All these thoughts blurred through Harry’s mind, and so he was not looking as he walked down the steep spiral steps, and smashed right into another body, pressing that person tight against the wall. Both were holding one another for dear life, and when Harry’s mind finally woke from its stupor, he realized that he was staring straight into Draco’s eyes...

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?” Draco yelled out, shoving Harry away with as much might as possible; Harry, however, knowing that they needed to keep calm in order not to fall, only pressed himself against his date harder, his cock beginning to grow from arousal, “Peeves, this isn’t fucking funny!”

Peeves? Harry thought, before realizing that he was invisible. Carefully, he pushed back against the wall, shrugged off the cloak, and then caught a hold of Draco’s shirt as he began to tumble.

“Harry?” Draco asked, shocked, managing to finally find a grip on the wall. Harry, feeling cocky, leaned forwards to try and kiss Draco...but Draco managed to squirm out of his grasp and stepped up the rest of the stairs to the top.

“You’re late,” Harry said, kind of giggling at his audacity.

“You’re early,” Draco snorted, “I said ten precisely, Potter.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” said Harry as he vaulted up the steps to join Draco, who had since walked over to an open window, staring out to the stars.

“Lot of stars out tonight,” said Draco, not particularly talking to Harry, “ ‘every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile’ “

“That’s ... beautiful,” replied Harry quietly; his libido had forcefully taken over Harry ever since they ran into each other, and only now was his rational mind allowed to regain its position, “Did you come up with that?”

“No,” Draco sighed, turning his head back to look at Harry, “one of the greatest American wizards, Emerson, said that; I’m not that smart.”


“You’re plenty smart,” Harry said, leaning against a stone wall, “more than me, for sure,”

“Not by choice...my father’s outfitted me with the ‘finest’ education on the past pureblood wizards all my life, teaching me about Plato and Aristotle, about Latin and Greek, about ... “

Harry looked at his feet, “I never got to learn anything from the Dursleys; they made me do chores all the time, and never gave a bloody fuck about my dreams,”

Silence overtook them for a moment, before Draco laughed softly, “pretty depressing way to start out a date,”

“Kind of...” Harry shrugged.

“So what do we do, you know, on a date?”

“I don’t know – I’ve never been on one!”

“Me neither...this isn’t good,”

“Or,” Harry piped up, “it is...means we can trek out our own path; seems to be the way we do things naturally, anyways,”

“True,” Draco smiled sincerely, “So...excited for the other schools, much?”

“Meh...to be honest, I am kind of curious, but I kind of like the coziness of Hogwarts by itself – I think I might be uneasy with other students around all year,”

“Pissed off that you can’t get in?”

“Are you kidding? Finally, I don’t have any obligations to do anything!”

“Since when have you had to do hard stuff?”

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes recanting his experience with Voldemort in First Year, with Riddle and the Basilisk in Second, and about Sirius being his godfather in Third – he left out the bit about saving him. All this was sworn to secrecy, and Harry relished the ability to talk to someone outside of Hermione or Ron; he loved them both, but sometimes they could be too intervening.

Not one to be outdone, Draco spent a good twenty minutes making Harry dream and laugh along to his many adventures abroad with his parents; though his parents were always out looking for Voldemort, Draco was always able to sneak out and explore the cities around him. He recanted a story of seeing a Veela in Bulgaria, and having gotten so hard that he had to wait for an hour in a bathroom for his hard-on to go away. He added in a bit of trivia that he knew Harry would not know, and so the two passed by a genuinely good time.

“And, so, the bartender told me to fuck off or else he’d call the Muggle police...I conveniently whipped out a spell to make his hair grow really fast, before my father caught me!” Draco sighed in nostalgia.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“Dunno...s’round ten thirty, I’d guess, why?”

“Because I want to know how much longer I have to hold off from kissing you,”

“Aw...so you’re the girl in this relationship, eh, Harry?” Draco snarled playfully.

“If that’s what it takes to make out, fuckin’ fine with me!” he said, suddenly pouncing across the floor onto Draco, pulling them both to the floor, “C’mere,”

Harry had managed to wrestle Draco to a position beneath him, and once their bodies were lined up, Draco craned his neck up and met Harry’s lips; the two held the position for a moment, before both were hard, at which point they began to grind their trapped erections against one another.

“Harry...” Draco exhaled, his breath stagnant; he had never felt so good before.

“Oh, yeah, Draco,” Harry sighed, resuming the kiss. Once he had recaptured Draco’s attention, he snaked a hand down to his trousers, and slowly pulled off his belt. Once that was complete, he did the same for Draco, and threw them to the side. More than a willing companion, Draco began to unbutton Harry’s shirt, starting from the bottom, using only one hand, until his shirt was open and Harry’s bare chest lay before him – so pristine, just toned enough for his entrance into manhood, but still perfectly smooth.

Bravado and arousal surging, Harry tore open Draco’s shirt as their tongues danced together, before lowering himself onto Draco and pressing their bare skin against one another. It was beginning to become too much for both of them to stand, so Harry snuck his hand into his pants and was just about to pull out his throbbing member when Draco moaned in the ecstasy of the moment – and shot his knee straight upright.

Had it not been for Harry’s hand, he would most certainly be talking in a high voice for the rest of the month; as it was, though, Draco had only managed to knee Harry’s hand, covering his balls, and so in pain Harry rolled off Draco, feeling his erection diminish faster than ever before.

“Fucking bloody hell!” He said, the pain producing burning tears in his eyes; he wasn’t sad, just pained.

“Harry, what happened?” Draco set, sitting bold upright, his shirt casually falling off him.

“You kknee...kneed m-me, ahhh!, in the crotch!”

"Fuck, man, I’m soo sorry!”

“Ah, I don’t think that I can do anything more...ow...tonight,” Harry sighed, holding his package for dear life, gently massaging it.

Suddenly, Draco was flooded with his father’s teaching, and as he couldn’t get what he wanted, in spite he murmured, “pussy,”

“Fuck you,” Harry said, suddenly angry, “ferret boy!”

Harry didn’t even see Draco’s fist move, before it connected with his stomach and knocked the wind out of him...

“Don’t EVER call me that again, Potter!” Malfoy sneered, before putting on his shirt, doing up his belt, and walking away down the stairs.

Harry spent a good ten minutes on the floor, the physical and emotional pain rolling in waves through his body; eventually, he was able to sit up, redress, grab his things, and then don his invisibility cloak. He went to bed in pain, and awoke angry at Draco. They didn’t speak or make eye contact whatsoever for the following week.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight.




R/R Please!