Deligo Sanguis

Chapter Four

What the…?

ONE

Harry sighed heavily as he closed his heavy Transfiguration tome. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying desperately to get the picture of Malfoy out of his head. He’d been thinking about the snobbish blonde ever since their encounter in the hallway all those weeks ago.

“Something bothering you, Potter?” Snape asked from his desk, not bothering to look up from the papers he was grading.

Harry watched him silently for a moment before deciding to take the plunge into deep, shark infested waters. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said.

Snape put down his quill and looked at Harry curiously, waiting to see what Harry would say.

“All of this ‘Potter’ nonsense has got to stop,” Harry said bluntly. “It’s ridiculous and, frankly, I’m sick of it. You and I both know that I’m no more a Potter than you are. Can’t you just call me Harry? That is my proper name, you know.”

“I can’t very well go about the school calling you by your given name, though, can I?” Snape countered. “My cover would surely be blown, and then we’d both have a lot of trouble on our hands.”

“I don’t bloody well care what you call me out there,” Harry snapped, waving toward the door vaguely to indicate what he meant. “In here I’d feel much more at ease if you’d call me Harry.”

“Oh?” Snape mused. “I suppose that is acceptable. You may call me Severus, if you wish. I don’t expect you to call me ‘Dad’ or anything so presumptuous when you persist in looking like James Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Fine,” he muttered. “Severus it is.” Though this conversation wasn’t the original cause of his discomfort, he wasn’t about to let Snape know just what was. The last thing he needed was another lecture about constant vigilance around known adversaries.

“It is time to begin our lesson,” Snape said abruptly, standing from his desk.

Harry sighed. “If we must,” he muttered, standing to face Snape, his wand drawn.

“Have you been practicing?” Snape asked, pointing his wand at Harry.

“Yes,” Harry grated. He had been practicing, though he wasn’t sure if it would do him any good.

“Very well,” Snape said. “Legilimens!”

The spell hit Harry in the chest, forcing him back a step. His vision went black for a moment before he forced it to clear again. He watched Snape for a moment before exclaiming, “Expelliarmus!” He did his best not to put too much power behind the spell because he didn’t want to injure the man. Nonetheless, Snape was rocketed off his feet and into the wall behind him, his wand landing neatly in Harry’s hand. Harry stared for a moment before coming to his senses and running to Snape’s side.

“Are you all right?” he asked frantically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“

“I’m fine,” Snape interrupted, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up. He looked at Harry silently for a moment before saying, “That was good. Your spell work is strong. Let’s do it again.” He stood up and waved Harry back to the other side of the room after retrieving his wand.

Harry stood nervously, picturing an empty field of lush green grass, waiting for Snape to attack.

“Legilimens!” Snape exclaimed, sending the spell at Harry’s chest again.

This time, Harry’s vision went a little fuzzy, but didn’t blank out all the way. He raised his wand, trying to use less power than he did before, and exclaimed, “Expelliarmus!” The spell hit Snape in the stomach and once again sent him flying into the wall. “Shit!” Harry cried, running to Snape’s side again.

Snape sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head again. “You’re going to be very strong, Harry,” he muttered, wincing as his fingers found a sore spot. “What’s your magic going to be like when it gets stronger, I wonder?”

“Erm, I was holding back,” Harry said, helping the man to his feet. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Snape stared at him, an inscrutable expression on his face. “You were holding back?”

Harry nodded, nibbling on his lower lip nervously.

“Dear Merlin,” Snape muttered. “We must explore this new revelation.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what Snape meant by ‘explore’, so he made his excuses and left the man’s quarters through his office entrance. On his way out of the dungeons, he encountered the last person he wanted to see.
TWO

Draco waited patiently in one of the many unused classrooms in Snape’s Potions corridor, watching for any sign that Potter was going to pass this way. Draco
had never particularly cared about the gender of the person with whom he happened to be sleeping at any given time, and so decided that if Potter wanted hostilities between them to end, then they’d just have to shag instead. Potter wasn’t bad looking, after all, and Draco was willing to bet anything that the Golden Boy was a virgin.

After several moments of waiting, Potter finally emerged from Snape’s office, walking with his head down and a look of great consternation on his face. Not for the first time, Draco found himself wondering just what Snape and Potter got up to in those detentions. As Potter passed the classroom, Draco reached out quickly and dragged the Gryffindor into the room, closing the door behind them.

Potter spun a bit when Draco released his sleeve; Draco supposed he must have used more force to pull Potter in than was strictly necessary.

“Malfoy?” Potter asked, staring at him through the gloom.

“Potter,” Draco replied with a smirk.

A look rather reminiscent of disgust crossed Potter’s features. “I thought we’d discussed this,” he said coldly.

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

Potter said nothing, which irritated Draco to no end.

“I’ve decided that we’re going to fuck,” he said bluntly when it was obvious that Potter was going to remain silent.

Potter’s eyebrow went up, making Draco think that the boy was spending entirely too much time alone with Snape. “You have, have you?” Potter asked, rather coldly in Draco’s opinion.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“I don’t have time for this,” Potter said, moving toward the door. Draco got in front of him, intent on getting what he wanted. He figured that if they weren’t fighting, fucking was the next reasonable step. Potter grabbed the front of Draco’s robes and pushed him back forcefully so that his back was pressed painfully against the door, the knob digging into his hip. Potter wasn’t quite as tall as he was, but he was frightening nonetheless.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Potter growled, “but I suggest that you stop because you are seriously starting to get on my nerves.”

It was something of an effort to put down his fear. “I’m not playing,” he replied, forcibly keeping his voice level, though he was quaking inside. He’d never been on this side of Potter’s temper before. Potter hadn’t even been this angry when he’d been beating the living shit out of Draco at that Quidditch match the previous year.

“Explain,” Potter said shortly.

“Well, you see, I’m having a rather bad start to my year,” Draco began. “My housemates are all in rather bad moods, my father is in Azkaban and my mother has fallen into some kind of depression. I’m having difficulty explaining to myself. I figure, since it’s your fault that Father is in Azkaban to begin with, you could do me the courtesy of helping to relieve some of my tension.”

“Your father put himself in Azkaban by becoming a Death Eater,” Potter snarled, pressing Draco to the door still harder. “It’s his own ruddy fault he’s too stupid to think for himself. Don’t you blame this shit on me.”

“It occurs to me,” Draco muttered, having rather more difficulty controlling his voice than before, “that you have some tension to relieve as well. It would be a win-win arrangement.”

“Until you blacken my name all over this school,” Potter grated, apparently losing a little more control of his temper.

“I won’t.”

“Oh, and I suppose I’m just supposed to believe you, am I?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because you’re a liar and a spineless coward, that’s why.”

“I have nothing to gain by claiming to have shagged you.”

“No?”

“No. The Slytherins consider you beneath them. If I were to say I’d touched you, they’d consider me sullied. We both lose if I tell. Honestly, I’m in more danger than you are. You could tell just as easily as I could.”

“Oh yes, that would go down well. ‘Hey, Ron, Hermione. I was feeling down so I fucked Malfoy last night. That’s okay with you, right?’ Not bloody likely.”

Draco stared silently for a long moment, wondering where the Potter he had tormented for five years had disappeared to. “Point taken,” he said at last.

Potter was glaring into his eyes menacingly, presumably calculating the pros and cons of Draco’s offer.

“Do you mind letting me down?” Draco asked when the pain in his hip became almost unbearable. “This doorknob is most uncomfortable.” He immediately wished he had phrased his question differently because Potter simply let go and took a step back, leaving Draco to fall in an undignified heap on the floor.

“You’re pathetic,” Potter muttered anger still permeating his voice. “Get out of my way.”

“You’re stupid to refuse,” Draco countered, standing as gracefully as he could. “You could do things with me that no respectable female would allow you to do.”

Potter stared at him for a long moment, making Draco wonder what was going on in that brain of his.

THREE

Harry considered carefully. Malfoy seemed most sincere in his desire to have sex with Harry, which in itself was most strange. They hated each other. Why should they shag? Harry was thinking back to a certain book he’d found in Dudley’s room over the summer and had subsequently stolen. The fact that Dudley had a book at all was strange enough, but this particular book could become most useful very fast; especially the chapter entitled Up Your Bum – Anal Sex. Harry had read and reread the entire book over the summer. At the time, he’d thought some of the things people did to each other in the name of sex seemed rather… sick. Now, however, he was considering which things he could use (or purposefully screw up) to take his frustrations out on Malfoy’s rather willing body. Losing his virginity to someone he despised didn’t really bother him much. Nothing bothered him much any more. Still…

“What do you get out of this?” he asked at last.

Malfoy stared at him. “I’ve told you that already. I get to relieve my tensions.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else do you get out of this?”

“What?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know you better than that.”

“Well, I get to have the honor of knowing I fucked the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“But you won’t tell anyone.” Harry was starting to get seriously annoyed again.

“I’ve already told you why that would be detrimental to my health.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry allowed his eyes to travel down the length of Malfoy’s body, but he didn’t see much. Malfoy was covered from neck to foot in his school robes.

“Believe what you want.”

“It’s not too dangerous for me, though,” Harry went on.

“What do you mean?”

“Even if you did tell, no one would believe you, and I’d just deny the whole thing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Harry felt his eyebrow go up again. He didn’t know when this habit had started, but it had the desired effect. Malfoy shrank back just a little bit. “I don’t think you know me well enough to make that determination.”

Malfoy stood and stared at him mutely, presumably deciding whether this had been a good idea after all.

“What do you want?” Harry asked after a while.

“Right now?” Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded once.

“Just to fuck you.”

Subtlety had never been Malfoy’s strongest point.

“Right now,” Harry said.

“Right now,” Malfoy agreed.

“Just don’t complain to me when you regret this later,” Harry cautioned. “I won’t care.”

“I’m not going to regret it,” Malfoy sneered.

Harry glanced at the dusty clock on the wall over Malfoy’s head. It was still running and it was telling him that it was already well past curfew. No matter. Fucking Malfoy wouldn’t take too long, without all of that pesky foreplay.

Harry advanced on Malfoy without another word, causing the blonde to back into the door again. Once Harry reached him, he grabbed the front of Malfoy’s robes and ripped roughly, tearing the fabric and sending buttons flying in every direction. As he treated Malfoy’s under-robe to the same treatment, he crushed their mouths together in a searing kiss that lit Harry’s entire body on fire. The only kiss he’d ever shared with anyone else had been with Cho Chang, and it had been most dissatisfactory; nothing like this. Harry banished his own clothes with a flick of his wand, sending them to lay in a neat little pile on one of the dusty chairs.

“Lay down on the floor,” Harry commanded.

Malfoy made an interesting keening sound deep in his throat, but he did as he was told. Harry leaned over the taught body, reveling in the firm muscles beneath his hands, and positioned his mouth at Malfoy’s ear, one hand stroking the blonde’s rapidly swelling cock gently.

“I’m going to fuck you into this floor,” Harry muttered, bringing a whimper out of Malfoy. “I’m not going to prepare you. It’s going to hurt , and you’re going to love it.”

“Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy groaned, shifting slightly under Harry.

Harry cast a lubrication charm on himself and Malfoy’s opening and then positioned his already achingly hard cock at Malfoy’s entrance and forced his way past the tight ring of muscle. “Fuck,” he groaned once he was seated.

Malfoy, for his part, screamed at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t attempt to get away.

Harry waited just long enough to cast a silencing charm on the room and set his wand aside. He left the door unlocked, just for the thrill of knowing that they might be caught at any moment. After placing his wand on the floor next to him, he began thrusting hard and fast, his balls slapping Malfoy’s ass with every thrust.

“Oh fuck!” Malfoy screamed. “Harder! Yes! Harder, damn you!”

Harry obeyed the command, smirking slightly. He’d never taken Malfoy for a screamer. Harry bent over that pale body, an idea forming in his mind. He began biting and sucking on Malfoy’s chest, intent on leaving his mark. Malfoy might well regret his decision to become Harry’s fuck toy.

Malfoy reached down with one hand and began stroking himself hard and fast, matching Harry’s thrusts. Harry was now thrusting so hard that Malfoy’s whole body was rocking violently on the hard floor.

“FUCK, OH GODS, YES, DON’T STOP!” Malfoy screamed, his muscles clenching around Harry almost painfully as he came, his spunk splashing his chest and stomach, and coating his still pumping hand.

Harry came a moment later, clenching his teeth together tightly and pumping his spunk deep inside Malfoy’s body.

He collapsed on top of Malfoy and lay panting for a moment before shakily getting to his feet. He cast a cleaning charm over himself, got dressed and left the classroom without saying a word to Malfoy. Much to his surprise, he did feel much less wound up after such a magnificent shag. Perhaps Malfoy had a point after all.

Harry walked at a leisurely pace back to Gryffindor, despite the late hour. He didn’t much care if he got caught out of bounds at that moment. If McGonagall asked what he’d been doing, he’d simply tell her that he’d been shagging Malfoy. The thought of the look on her face should he say such a thing to her brought a smirk to his face.

“Lithuania,” he said when he reached the Fat Lady, rolling his eyes yet again at the ridiculous password. The portrait swung open and Harry crawled through the hole, hearing Ron and Hermione arguing on the other side. Once he reached the other side of the opening, the portrait closing behind him, he simply sat on the ledge of the hole and watched his mates, who had yet to notice him. They were standing in the center of the common room, very close together, Hermione facing toward the entrance, but not looking at it.

“We have to tell him, Ron!” Hermione was raging. “He’s our best friend! How would you feel if it was Harry and me and we didn’t tell you?”

“He’ll just feel like a third wheel if we tell him!” Ron argued back. What Harry could see of his face and neck were very red, indicating that they’d been at it for some time. Harry found it something of a marvel that they hadn’t woken the whole House by now.

“He’ll feel like we don’t care if we don’t tell him!” Hermione returned. “I’m telling you, it’ll just make him angry! It’s bad enough that we’ve been dating this long without…” She broke off abruptly as her eyes drifted over Ron’s shoulder and landed on Harry, who was still sitting hunched over in the portrait hole, watching them.

“What?” Ron asked turning to see what Hermione was looking at. When he saw Harry, his face went from red to white so fast that Harry found it amazing he was still standing.

“Hello,” Harry said conversationally, though, upon reflection, this gave him a good excuse to stop talking to them without them wondering why. He’d decided a week ago that being friends with them was merely inviting their deaths. That wouldn’t do, not at all.

“Harry,” Hermione said, apparently the only one who could speak. “You’re back really late. We were, erm, waiting for you.”

“So I see,” Harry replied. Judging by the worried looks they were giving him, he imagined he looked somewhat tired. It was amazing what a great shag could do to one’s energy levels. He made no move to abandon his seat in the portrait hole, but instead began swinging his legs in a lazy fashion.

“Erm, how long have you been sitting there?” Hermione asked, glancing nervously at Ron. Ron, for his part, was still standing with his head turned, gaping at Harry.

“Long enough,” Harry replied, still in a friendly tone.

“We were going to tell you,” Hermione explained nervously.

“I gathered as much,” Harry said.

“We’re not trying to cut you out or anything,” Hermione went on, still glancing at Ron, who had yet to close his mouth.

“Of course not,” Harry said. Hermione seemed to find his lack of instigation more worrisome than if he had been yelling at them.

“Are you angry?” Hermione asked.

“Why should I be angry?” Harry asked in return. “It’s not like my two best friends didn’t trust me enough to tell me they were dating, is it? It’s not like they’ve been keeping secrets or anything.”

Hermione paled significantly at this. “Harry, I tried to convince him to tell you,” she rushed to explain. “We just didn’t know how you’d react. We still want--”

“Save it,” Harry interrupted, jumping down from the ledge at last. He regarded them coldly for a long moment, taking advantage of the skills Snape had been teaching him to carefully hide his emotions, which were terribly confused. He looked at Ron. “Do you remember fourth year?” he asked.

Ron blinked at this seeming change of subject. “Yeah,” he said carefully, still staring with round, frightened looking eyes.

“Do you remember how angry you were because you’d thought that I’d put my name in the Goblet without telling you?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, more carefully still.

“This is much worse than that,” Harry told him. “Good night.” He walked toward the stairs to the boys’ dorms without another word.

“Harry, hang on!” Ron cried, finally seeming to come out of his shock of seeing Harry there. “We can explain!”

Harry ignored him and proceeded to his dorm, feeling that he’d finally accomplished something useful this year. Malfoy had helped, really. If he hadn’t taken the time to give Malfoy a quick shag, he wouldn’t have heard Ron’s and Hermione’s argument, which in turn would have meant he still wouldn’t have had a reason to drop them both.

“This is really bad,” he heard Hermione say from the common room before he closed the door.

FOUR

Draco lay on the floor in the dusty classroom for some time, trying to recover his strength. Never in his life had he imagined that Potter would be such a good lay. He sat up to say as much, only to notice that Potter had gone.

“Bastard,” he muttered, wincing as he stood up. His arse hurt something fierce, but it had been worth it. Draco was already planning his next rendezvous with Potter. He planned to be on top next time. If he was to be honest with himself, he’d wanted to be on top this time, but Potter had taken him by surprise when he’d advanced so suddenly without further argument. Draco had expected it to take much more convincing than that.

He cast a cleaning charm over himself, thinking that it was most un-Gryffindorish for Potter to have left without even offering to do it for him after buggering him so thoroughly. He’d have to get his revenge for that later. He grimaced when he noticed the state of his robes. Potter had been most enthusiastic, considering how vehemently he’d been protesting at the start of their encounter.

Draco took several moments to repair his robes, making sure they were perfect before bothering to put them back on. Once he was dressed, he meandered back to his common room, thinking about the hot shower waiting for him there. It was very convenient for him that, due to the lack of male students in his year, he had his own room and water closet. None of the other Houses had gotten so lucky. With only four male Slytherins in his year, each of them was entitled to their own room because the space wasn’t needed for more students.

He stepped into his brightly lit water closet, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He turned to the full-length mirror he had placed behind the door and began to undress, rather fond of how he looked without his clothes on. He gasped when he saw his reflection this time. “Bastard!” he groused, more vehemently than before. He gently fingered the lightning bolt-shaped bruise Potter had left on his chest. The idiot may as well have left a sign that read ‘Harry Potter was here’. Draco decided he’d have to get revenge for this too. It was a very good thing that Draco had his own water closet or else the whole of Slytherin would have known about the bruise in no time. He had no doubt that Potter had done it on purpose to make his life difficult.

“Potter, you moron,” Draco muttered as he turned on the water for his shower. “I’ll get you back for this! How the hell am I supposed to hide this from the Quidditch team?” Draco frowned in concentration as he stepped under the hot spray, thinking of the best concealment charm he knew to cover the pesky mark Potter had left on him. His eyes snapped open with this thought. Potter had basically claimed him with that bite.

“Damn him! I don’t belong to him! I belong to no one! People belong to me, goddamn it! I’m Draco Malfoy!” He picked up his shampoo bottle and hurled it across the water closet, shattering his mirror by the door. “BASTARD!” he screamed angrily. Oh, Potter was so going to pay for this!