Kneeling

Disclaimer: See part 1

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Harry wasn’t even halfway up to the castle when a quiet call stopped him.

“Harry?”

He suppressed a sigh as he recognised Malfoy’s voice. He was glad now that he’d come to terms with his own feelings about this mess already - it looked like the inevitable confrontation was going to happen sooner than he’d expected.

He turned around. Malofy was coming from behind a row of trees that lined the lake’s shore. Harry winced as he got his first good look at Malfoy. His face was a mess. His lip was swollen from where he’d hit the statue, and there was an ugly dark bruise spreading over his chin and a corner of his mouth.

That can’t be from the fall, Harry thought, confused. What did he do, get into a fight after I left?
But no, there was something else, nagging at the back of his mind… He gasped as the memory suddenly came back, still blurry, but unmistakable: His own fist, pulling back, hitting into Malfoy’s unsuspecting face. Damn. How could he have forgotten that? And more importantly, how could he have done that? Fighting Malfoy in a duel, that was one thing, but punching someone who was completely unprepared, who hadn’t threatened him, and who hadn’t made a move to defend himself? That was low.

Using violence to solve his problems was something he’d always tried to avoid. With Voldemort, that was different of course - Voldemort had long ago lost any right to be treated as a human, and Harry had been defending himself and his friends.

But hitting somebody out of anger, just because he could, was something he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. Growing up as the main victim of Dudley’s casual cruelty had taught him to hate bullies, and the thought that he had, even for a moment, turned into one, was frightening. It wouldn’t happen again, he promised himself. And he’d have to apologize to Malfoy, too.

That was the hard part, of course - but looking at Malfoy’s battered face, it didn’t quite seem like the unthinkable thing it would have been yesterday. He’d done that, he’d have to make up for it.
Draco stopped a careful distance away from Harry. The thought that he probably did it because he was wary of what Harry would do, was maybe even expecting a new attack, was not exactly one he wanted to linger one. He’d never wanted to be the kind of person others were afraid of.

All right. Time to get it over with, before he could bail. “Look, Malfoy, I’m sorry for this.” He said quickly, indicating the bruise with a gesture. “I was kind of… out of my mind, yesterday. It won’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all, actually, but it’s kind of late for that, so… sorry, anyway.”

Malfoy looked surprised, but instead of rubbing Harry’s nose in his apology, as he’d expected, he just shrugged carelessly, touching the bruise gingerly. “I’ve had worse”, was all he said. Harry stared at him, confused. The Malfoy he knew and loathed would never have missed such a prime opportunity to humiliate Harry, or at least make some snide comment.

“Why didn’t you go to Madame Pomfrey?” he asked.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, the familiar “How dumb can you be?” expression on his face.

“I may have gotten away with telling the others that I ran into a door, but do you really think a medical professional would have noticed the difference? And for reasons that should be obvious even to you, I’d rather not discuss what really happened with a teacher.” He shrugged. “Flint’s going to be back from Hogsmeade soon, anyway. He’s not too bad with healing spells.”

Harry couldn’t suppress a small grin. “Not too bad” was probably a flattering description of Flint’s abilities. The Slytherins as a whole never seemed to do too well with healing spells. Maybe it was just an ability that didn’t sit well with the general spirit of the house.

But the thought that it was his fault that Malfoy needed Flint’s questionable assistance in the first place took most of the fun out of the thought. Regret seized him again.

“Here, let me”, he offered, drawing his wand out of his pocket. He sighed at Malfoy’s wary expression. “I said I was soory. I’m not going to make it even worse, now.”

After a moment’s hesitation Malfoy tilted his face towards him in silent acquiescense. Harry touched his split lip gently with the tip of his wand, careful not to cause any pain.

“Salvi-fico!” The tip of the wand glowed in a pale blue light for a minute, and the swelling started to go down slowly. Harry had to repeat the spell three more times till the split was properly scabbed over and the swelling almost gone, and then another two times for the bruise.

It wasn’t a bad performance - healing spells were extremely hard and took a lot of magical energy. He didn’t get the swelling to go completely down, and parts of the bruise were still faintly black and blue, but it wouldn’t get any better than that, not with his limited abilities. Madame Pomfrey could have made it disappear completely in a fraction of the time, of course - but that was why it took more than six years to become a certified healer. It wasn’t something one learned in a few hours at school.

Malfoy touched a hand to his face.

“Much better. Thank you.” The gratitude, and the small smile that accompanied it, were un-Malfoyish enough that Harry was immediately reminded of the topic they still hadn’t discussed.

“Malfoy-“ he started, but was interrupted mid-sentence.

“Can we go somewhere a bit more privat to discuss this? Unless you want to have half the school for an audience, that is.”

That last sentence finally almost had the condescending tone Harry was used to. Well. Would have been too much to hope that one mad night might have made a change in Malfoy’s attitude, of course. Harry suddenly became aware that they were standing out in the open, in full view of anyone who cared to watch.

He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Malfoy turned and started walking back towards the trees that lined the lake. Harry followed him after a moment. There was no real reason not to let Malfoy choose the place if he wanted to, after all. Even if over the last years it had become a bit of a habit to almost automatically do the direct opposite of whatever Malfoy did, this was not the moment to be contrary.

They climbed down the steep slope to the shore. Malfoy steered them towards a thicket of trees and shrubs and then disappeared into a small gap between the trunks of two large trees, half-obscured by the underbrush, that Harry hadn’t seen until he was standing directly in front of it.

He climbed in after Malfoy, careful not to snag his robes on the long thorns on some of the bushes. Low-hanging branches brushed his face, vines twined around his legs, and one time he almost fell over a thick root growing out of the ground. Where was Malfoy leading him? But then the trees suddenly ended, and he found himself in front of a tiny clearing, surrounded on all sides by the thick growth of magical and mundane plants.

“Oh!” A tiny sound of surprise escaped him. It was a beautiful place, the floor covered with thick patches of tiny flowers.

Malfoy smirked. “What, you really didn’t know this place? Thought you’d have been here before with Chang.”

“Cho and I aren’t… I mean we didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Harry spluttered, outraged. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“All right, all right, I got it. You’re pure as driven snow, and all that. No sordid affairs in secret hideouts for The Boy Who Lived.” As always, he said the phrase almost like an epithet, his voice dripping sarcasm. But before Harry could get angry, he went on: “What was that yesterday, then?”
And that was the million-pounds-question, wasn’t it? He already knew what yesterday had been to him, and he had come to terms with it - nothing but a little physical gratification, after all, and if he was to have meaningless sex, who better to have it with then Malfoy? That spoiled brat probably didn’t even have feelings he could hurt. But he still didn’t know what Malfoy’s motivations had been, if there had even been any beyond simple sexual attraction. That would have been more than enough for him - Malfoy was used to getting anything he wanted, after all. His father had made sure of that. Harry felt the familiar feeling of contempt boiling up in him again at the thought of how Lucius had bought Malfoy his access into the Slytherins’ Quidditch team.

Malfoy was still waiting for an answer, he suddenly realized. He shrugged. “It was fun, it’s over, we can just forget about it if that’s what you want.”

Malfoy winced. That had obviously not been the answer he had been hoping for. For a moment he held himself very still, as if thinking hard about something, or maybe just gathering his courage. Then he blurted out, as if to get it over with as quickly as possible: “And what if I’d rather just do it again?”

Strangely enough, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. Soemthing in him seemed to have expected - or maybe hoped for - that particular turn of events all along. But still, it wasn’t something he’d really consciously thought about, either, so for a moment he found himself at loss for words. He couldn’t really, could he? It was a tempting offer, in a way - Malfoy was tempting, even with his face still a bit swollen and colourful in places. The mere thought of having that mouth on him again made his cock press against his pants urgently.

But still - Malfoy was his enemy, no matter how sexy he might be. If Ron and Hermione found out…
But then, why should they? As long as he was careful…
But he couldn’t lie to his best friends like that, it wouldn’t be fair…
Hermione…
Malfoy calling her a mudblood, how much it had hurt her…
No. He couldn’t do this.

“Forget it”, he said, noticing angrily that his voice wasn’t quite as firm as he wished it was. “I don’t know how I could let you do this in the first place. What the fuck was I thinking? Really, Malfoy, you of all people should know how much I despise you and your whole bloddy family.”

Yes. It was much easier to convince himself when he said it out loud like this. It was all true, after all - only that didn’t quite stop his traitorous cock from reminding him impatiently that it didn’t care about his feelings for Malfoy as long as it could get some attention, and right now.

Malfoy flinched as if he had struck him. For a moment his whole face seemed frozen, obviously trying to hide some kind of extremely strong feeling. Disappointment? Whoa. He was really taking it awfully hard to be turned down, didn’t he? Suddenly the thought that he might have some secret agenda seemed a lot more likely again. If only he knew what it was…

Malfoy couldn’t possibly plan to expose them. His reputation among his friends and family would be destroyed just as surely as Harry’s. Maybe he was hoping Harry would let something slip of what he knew of the Order’s plans? Well, no danger there at all. Dumbledore, secretive as he was, made sure that none of them knew anything but what was absolutely necessary for them to know, and right now, with him being stuck at school, that amounted to practically nothing at all. And even if he knew something, he would never betray the Order.

Maybe it was a plot to make Harry fall in love with him, to manipulate him into… well, something, anyway. The thought almost made him laugh out loud. Yeah, sure. Him falling into love with Draco “I despise anyone who isn’t a pureblood, and you most of all, Potter” Malfoy. That would be a very cold day in hell.

So, really, when he thought about it like that, it wasn’t like it could do any harm. Just one more time. None of his friends would have to know. He could perfectly well keep on despising Malfoy and still have sex with him. So why did it feel like such a betrayal?

His thoughts were running around in circles, completely unable to form a decision. Finally it was Malfoy who took the decision from him. He smiled, slipping a hand down the front of Harry’s robes to press against his cock. Harry gasped. “Malfoy -“ he began, not sure if he was protesting or begging him to continue. Malfoy’s thumb was slowly rubbing him, the sensation too intense to stand and not enough at the same time.

“Come on - you know you want to. Please.”

He was slowly sinking to his knees, one hand holding Harry’s robe out of the way, the other starting to fumble with the fly of the jeans he wore underneath. And just as had happened yesterday, common sense and self-control went flying out of the metyphorical window under the onslaught of pleasure.

Harry groaned softly, his knees suddenly feeling decidedly unsteady. Malfoy gripped his hips and urged him a few steps back, until his back was against one of the big old trees surrounding the clearing. Harry let his head fall back against the smooth bark and closed his eyes, groaning softly as Malfoy’s fingers slipped under his waistband, lightly caressing the damp head of his cock.

Malfoy undid his fly and shoved his jeans and underwear down to midthigh, careful not to snag them on his cock. Then his hot mouth closed around Harry, strong hands held his hips still as he jerked involuntarily, and everything went blurry with pleasure.

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