Wand Light

Wand Light

By Stacy Galore

Disclaimer: Based on the works of J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer. I do not benefit financially from the electronic distribution and archival of this story; nor do I own the rights to the characters depicted therein – I just play with them.

Chapter 6: The Game in the Unknowable Room

“A very bad idea indeed,” said Malfoy with a sensual drawl.

Harry stopped short. “What?”

“I said this is a very bad idea,” repeated Malfoy as if Harry was hard-of-hearing.

Harry blinked disbelievingly, “But . . . I was thinking the same thing a second before you said it. It’s like you were answering my thought.”

Malfoy said mockingly, “Awww, our thoughts are in tune with each other. How disgustingly cute.”

“No, it was like you were hearing my thoughts. You did that before,” Harry declared seriously.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Malfoy scoffed. “I tried to learn legilimency once, but I suck at it. Maybe you just have a problem keeping your internal voice from coming out of your mouth.” Maybe. Malfoy did have that effect on him lately – he often had trouble practicing verbal restraint around the boy. Malfoy said, “Anyway, bad idea or not, we’re here.”

Harry was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized they’d arrived at the unmarked entrance to the Room of Requirement. “How are we going to make the door appear?”

“I could do it quite easily,” Malfoy boasted. Then he turned to give Harry a licentious grin. “But I want you to do it.”

“Is that a challenge?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. Malfoy leaned back against the wall and nodded slowly with a seductive leer. Harry thrived off competition, especially when he was pitted against Malfoy. “It’s on,” he said, provokingly. But as soon as he took the challenge he froze. He had an idea of what it would take to open the Room, but doing it was rather humiliating. He could ask the Room outright. But what would he ask that wasn’t presumptuous or embarrassing? He couldn’t bloody well say, ‘I need you to open up so that I can have it off with Malfoy.’ And attempting what Malfoy did to open the room last time wasn’t an easy option either. They had kissed three times at this point and Malfoy initiated each one. Could Harry execute a kiss without making a total fool of himself? Not bloody likely. Every kiss before Malfoy was awkward and not entirely pleasant. Cho’s teary-eyed kiss stuck out in his mind – he felt like such an arsehole for taking advantage of her in an unstable emotional state.

“Well are you going to stand there all night gawking at me, or are you going to do something?” Malfoy drawled.

“Erm. OK. Just, give me a second,” Harry said nervously.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Potter. The more you hesitate, the more time you allow yourself to change your mind.”

“What if you change your mind?”

“I already told you. I can’t. The quaffle is on your side of the quidditch pitch, now make your move.”

“Malfoy, can’t you understand how weird this is for me?”

“Of course, I can. You don’t think it’s strange for me too?”

“Well, you act like it comes quite naturally to you.”

“Just because I’m an expert snogger doesn’t mean I don’t think kissing my sworn enemy is any less bizarre than it is. Look. If you changed your mind, that’s fine. It’s the smart option anyway. I’m a danger to you, Harry. Merlin only knows what will happen if we lock ourselves together in a secret room.”

“No, it’s fine. I just don’t understand why I have to be the one to open the Room.”

“I’m interested to see how badly you want me.” Malfoy smirked.

Harry playfully shoved Malfoy’s shoulder. “You’re such a prat.”

Malfoy purred flirtatiously, “You love it, Potter.”

“Prepare to be thoroughly snogged, Malfoy,” Harry said threateningly.

Harry put his hand on the wall behind Malfoy to steady himself as he closed his eyes, held his breath, and descended slowly towards the other boy. His nose hit Malfoy’s, knocking his glasses onto the floor. Harry dove for them and hit his head on the wall in the process.

Malfoy chortled. “I take it back. You’re more of a danger to yourself than I am.”

“Oh, shut it,” Harry spat as he righted himself, flustered with embarrassment.

“Harry, the problem is, you closed your eyes too soon. You have to keep your target in your sight until you’re just about to land. It’s like playing Seeker – you never allow yourself to blink until the snitch is firmly in your hand. Try again.”

Harry was aghast. “Are you teaching me how to kiss? God, it doesn’t get more humiliating than this.”

“Come on. It will be fun.” Malfoy cracked a boyishly cute smile, which turned slightly sinister as he said, “Trust me.”

“Me? Trust a Slytherin? Humph, that will be the day.”

“Well you don’t have to trust me then. Just do what I say. Come on. Get back into that same position. That was good,” Malfoy instructed.

Harry sighed. “Fine.” He put his hand on the wall again and asked, “Like this?”

“Yeah. And put your hand on my waist like this.” Malfoy took Harry’s other hand, slid it under his sweater, and rested it just above his hip. Even through his Oxford shirt, Harry could feel how cold the other boy was. “It’s a lot like dancing.”

“You know how to dance?” asked Harry disbelievingly.

“Of course I know how to dance,” Malfoy answered haughtily, “I’m a member of wizarding high society. Now, put your right foot in the space between my feet. And step forward with your left.”

This move brought their bodies into perfect alignment against each other. And Harry’s heart began to race. He was still looking down at his feet, like an awkward dance partner at the Yule Ball.

“Look at me, Harry,” Malfoy whispered so seductively that it completely melted Harry.

Harry raised his chin and emerald green eyes met silver ice in an electric mutual gaze, binding them both by the soul. Malfoy didn’t have to tell Harry what to do next. He moved as if being controlled by an unstoppable force – like he was magnetically charged and Malfoy was made of cold steel. He enveloped the other boy’s lips with his own, gently sucking at them like ripe forbidden fruit. His hand slid down the wall and landed on Malfoy’s cheek. Harry caressed his face with his thumb, in awe of his snowy perfection. Malfoy’s lips parted, inviting Harry to lap at his tongue, as he tangled his fingers into his untidy brown hair. Harry compared the sensation of kissing Malfoy to drinking something alcoholic and ice cold – as he imbibed Malfoy, it chilled his throat like icy mint, but at the same time it burned on the way down, searing him from the inside all the way to his heart. Harry wanted to drink from Malfoy’s lips until he was intoxicated. That’s exactly how Malfoy made him feel – drunk - all warm and fuzzy, completely lost in the moment. Harry started to feel light-headed and then realized he needed to breathe. He broke the kiss momentarily and panted. They stared at each other longingly as Harry caught his breath.

Harry took Malfoy’s face in both his hands and said breathlessly, “I want you, Draco.” Malfoy’s first name slid out of Harry’s mouth as easily and as naturally as the kiss had come. Then his lips came crushing down on Malfoy’s once again. They were so engrossed in each other that they barely noticed the door had appeared in the wall.

“Shall we?” asked Malfoy, taking Harry by the hand. They walked through the door and stepped out onto a darkened pitch, moist grass and goal hoops glittering in the full moon. “This is interesting,” said Malfoy. “I get a nearly empty room and you get an entire quidditch pitch.”

Seeing the beautiful expanse of deep green and inhaling the crisp night air, fresh with the smell of newly cut grass, gave Harry an epiphany. It had always been here, flying high above the quidditch pitch, that

Harry felt closest to Malfoy, though he didn’t know it until now. Since they were young boys, this is where they chased the same dream, seeking glory in the form of a little golden snitch. Here, they were perfectly matched. This is where their deeply rooted hatred for each other surged through their bodies with furious intensity, never clashing in hexes, but in physical contests of speed and agility. When Harry played Seeker against Malfoy, he was at his very best, for he wanted more than anything, even more than winning the game, to catch the snitch before Malfoy could. Harry would watch for the platinum blond fringe reflecting in the sun, zooming through the clouds, almost as much as he watched for the little gold ball. Sometimes it seemed that both of them subconsciously drew out the game, enjoying the race against each other too much to let it end. Here, nothing else mattered but Harry and Draco.

So it didn’t come as much of a surprise that the Room of Requirement would provide Harry with this venue for the ultimate culmination of years of passionate rivalry.

“I don’t get it,” said Malfoy.

Harry reached into the pocket of his robe, and sure enough, his hand closed upon a golden snitch where there hadn’t been one before. “You will,” said Harry. He pulled the ball out of his robes and held it up in the glow of the false moon.

Malfoy cocked his head to the side and began to ask, “Is that a,”

But Harry didn’t let him finish his inquiry and released the snitch saying, “Catch it,” as it fluttered up into the cloudless night sky.

“Your terms?” asked Malfoy.

Harry replied, “Isn’t the thrill of competition enough?”

Malfoy snorted, “Every challenge needs terms. Otherwise it’s like we’re just wanking about for nothing.”

Harry said tentatively, “I don’t know. Shall we wager something? Ten galleons?”

“I don’t need your money, Potter,” Malfoy spat. “I’ll name the terms. Whoever catches the snitch gets eternal bragging rights. And whoever loses must kneel before the winner, right here on the pitch, and worship him.”

Harry scratched his head, wondering if there was a catch. “That’s it?”

“Sure,” Malfoy said with a smirk, which did anything but convince Harry.

Harry summoned his broom and Malfoy did the same.

He mounted his broom and asked, “Are we playing by standard International Association rules?”

“Do I ever? Fuck the rules, Potter. Let’s play.” Then Malfoy shot up into the sky.

Harry kicked off the ground and sped towards Malfoy. It was exhilarating, flying through the night sky without a care in the world, unfettered by heavy quidditch uniforms, his hair flapping wildly about his face. Seeing Malfoy cut through the air like lightning reminded Harry that things were quite different this year – the other boy was much faster. This would be a harder fight than he was used to. They weaved passed each other and tumbled in the sky like frolicking eagles, delighting in the splendor of flight. This carefree aerial ballet continued for a good ten minutes.

Then Malfoy stopped short – so abruptly Harry thought the boy would have been thrown off his broom. But he held on steadily and stared into the distance, intrigued by something unseen. Though Harry couldn’t see it, he knew it was the snitch. Malfoy dashed ahead in pursuit, leaving Harry in his wake trying uselessly to catch up. But somehow, he did - Maybe Malfoy slowed down to capture the snitch. Malfoy dove and Harry followed, trailing him a few feet off the ground. Now Harry could see it – the snitch fluttering in front of Malfoy’s outstretched arm. Harry sped forward until he was beside Malfoy.

He knocked sideways into the other boy, hoping to make him lose balance. But Harry practically bounced off Malfoy, nearly falling off his broom in the process.

“Harry James Potter! Are you trying to cheat?” Malfoy asked in amused disbelief.

“Like you said – fuck the rules!” Harry shouted over the whistling of the wind. Once again, with more force, he swerved sideways into Malfoy. This time, Harry came even closer to falling off his broom as he bounced off the other boy’s impossibly hard body. The only thing stopping him from ricocheting off and dropping to the ground was Malfoy’s outstretched hand, grasping him by the robes. Harry marveled at Malfoy’s inhumanly quick reflexes.

“Easy there, Gryffindor,” Malfoy sneered, “You’re trying to play dirty with a Slytherin – we make the violation of rules an art form.”

Then Malfoy pulled the handle of his broom upwards, maneuvering it in the opposite direction. Harry made the same move to follow Malfoy, but by the time he managed to change course mid-flight, the blonde boy was already a small figure zipping around in the distance. God, he was fast! It angered Harry tremendously. Malfoy wasn’t this fast before – how the bloody hell did he get so good? Harry was flustered and surging with adrenaline as he sped forward in hot pursuit of, not the snitch, but the boy. Harry had never been afraid when flying, but now he feared losing control. He pushed his boom to the upper limits of its speed capability, just barely able to steer, flying so fast that the handle shook in his tight grasp. Harry never flew this fast – never needed to fly this fast. The wind stung his eyes and threatened to whip his glasses off. It howled in his ears like a banshee and ravaged his hair. His robes flapped around him, whipping his backside and his thighs. Whenever Harry caught up with Malfoy, he swiftly changed directions with a maniacal cackle, leaving Harry wondering where he was. All the while, Harry could only think of one thing - I need to get that sodding little prat and subjugate him horribly.

Chasing the other boy soon became tiresome. And finally, Harry relented and resigned to cheating with magic. “Caudicalis calculus!” He shot a spell at Malfoy’s broom that turned the wood handle to stone. Harry thought it would just slow down the Nimbus 2001, but it made it stop entirely. His gut clenched with regret and horror as both Malfoy and the broom tumbled towards the ground. Harry dove after him. At the exact same time that Malfoy managed to get his wand out of his pocket, Harry shouted, “Wingardium leviosa!” sending the wand flying up and out of his hand. And in unison, Harry and Malfoy exclaimed, “Fuck!” Harry tried every spell he could think of in the span of three seconds to slow Malfoy’s descent to earth. “Levicorpus! Lentitudo! Volaticus sursum!” It helped slightly, but his momentum was too great, and his body was determinately heading downward. Harry had to slow down or he would fly face-first into the pitch. Mafloy hit the sod with a sickening thud and Harry was sure the boy must have broken several bones.

When Harry landed, he lunged at Malfoy shouting in a panic-stricken, slurred jumble of concern and remorse, “Ohmygodareyouok? Ohmygodohmygodi’msosorry!”

Harry hovered over Malfoy, who was cradled in a deep depression within the ground created by the impact of his body on the sod. If he hit the ground that hard, he must have been paralyzed from the blunt trauma to his spine. But Malfoy reared up and pushed Harry down on his back growling, “You’re so fucking dead, Potter.” Then he stood up quickly as Harry gaped up at him from the ground, in awe of the fact that Malfoy was completely unscathed from the 100-foot fall. He brushed off his robes and summoned his wand, then brandished it at Harry threateningly.

Harry drew his wand defensively. “I said I was sorry! I had no idea the spell would-”

“You never think before you speak, do you Potter?” Malfoy asked rhetorically, looking like he wanted to hex him into next week.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, no, you meant it, Potter. You meant to bring me down. I would have done the same to you. And I must say, I’m rather shocked. You, Saint Potter, of all people, cheating at quidditch. But you know what?” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the little gold ball and grinned. “I had the snitch practically the entire time you were chasing me.” Malfoy laughed evilly. “Fucking ironic, isn’t it. The one time you try to cheat at quidditch and I win without cheating.”

Harry got up and pointed his wand at Malfoy a little more offensively as the blond boy laughed. “You made me chase you up and down the god damn quidditch pitch for nearly half an hour for nothing?” he asked angrily. “Then you deserve to get knocked on your arse!”

Malfoy wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye, let the remainder of his hysterical laughter die down, then moved close to Harry. He teased the tip of his wand against Harry’s chin. Malfoy said with a cocky drawl, “Come off it, Harry. You enjoyed the chase. You said it yourself - the thrill of the challenge is enough to get you off.”

“I never said anything about getting off,” Harry said defensively, smacking Malfoy’s wand out of his face.

Malfoy brought his lips so close to Harry’s, but refrained from touching him and whispered, “That’s because we’re not done yet.” Harry stared into Malfoy’s silver eyes and they melted his angry frustration into something else entirely. He closed his own eyes and parted his lips expecting Malfoy to kiss him. “Tell, me honestly, Harry. How badly do you want me right now?” Malfoy groaned lasciviously. Harry could feel Malfoy’s lips brushing ever so softly against his cheek. He put his hand on Harry’s waist and gently pulled him against his body.

“Badly,” Harry moaned, turning his head to meet Malfoy’s elusive lips.

“Then catch me,” said Malfoy in a seductive whisper that incited a thrill up Harry’s spine.

Harry’s eyes flashed open and Malfoy was already on his broom, kicking off into the sky. “Bastard,” Harry hissed, stomping towards his own broom. He had to adjust his trousers when he mounted the handle in order to accommodate for the growing problem between his legs. Flying while hard proved rather uncomfortable.

Malfoy hovered in the air above, waiting for Harry to catch up. “I’ll make this a little more interesting. I want you to try and catch me there,” Malfoy said, pointing to the darkness beyond the goal hoops. Out of the amorphous nothingness there appeared a forest, just dense enough to make flying difficult, but not entirely impossible. He flew in and disappeared into the trees. Harry followed, flying slowly to avoid hitting the branches illuminated by the moon. He couldn’t find a trace of the other boy. After a few minutes he stopped and hovered on the spot. He sat up straight on his broom and scanned the foliage for Malfoy’s conspicuously blond head amongst the dark leaves but saw nothing. “I’m getting bored, Malfoy. I’m leaving,” he called out to the night.

Then a voice from the left startled Harry. “You’re no fun, Potter.” Malfoy’s approach was so silent and stealthy that it was as if he had apparated to the spot. “You haven’t even been trying.”

“I bet you’ve been sitting and hiding behind a tree this whole time,” said Harry with annoyance.

Malfoy laughed. “No, I flew as far as I could and went back and forth a few times.”

“How the hell can you even fly through this mess?” said Harry, hacking at a little branch with his wand.

“Easily,” said Malfoy with a smirk.

“Bollocks,” said Harry with a jealous huff.

“Come here. I’ll show you.” Malfoy put out his hand, biding Harry to climb onto his broom.

“What? You want me to ride with you?” Harry asked with more disgust than he really felt.

“Yeah. Get on behind me.” Malfoy smiled and Harry couldn’t resist. He hovered right next to Malfoy and swung his leg over the other broom, then mounted it. “I dare you not to blink,” challenged the blond boy.

“What do you mean?”

But before Malfoy could answer, they were off like a shot. Harry almost fell backward and grabbed Malfoy by the waist. They were flying impossibly fast through the trees, which came at them so rapidly that it made Harry flinch. Malfoy maneuvered between trunks and under branches with amazing agility and razor sharp reflexes. It was the most exhilarating thing Harry had ever experienced on a broom. Every second he felt like he was going to die, but somehow Harry knew he could trust Malfoy’s skill.

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” asked Malfoy.

“I’ve had them open the whole time,” said Harry.

“Like hell, you have!” said Malfoy and turned to look at Harry, whose eyes widened with shock at the boy’s audacity to turn away from the onslaught of trees.

Harry was about to scream, but they flew out into the open space of the quidditch pitch and soared up towards the moonlight. Harry managed to pull his heart out of his throat and said, “That was fucking brilliant!”

“Better than the thrill of the chase?” Malfoy asked, turning around again, raising an eyebrow.

Harry smiled. “Almost.”

They circled around the pitch once, both lost in the bliss of speed and the freedom of the night air. Harry probably didn’t need to, but he kept his arms around Malfoy and leaned close against his back. It felt so . . . right. He rested his chin on Malfoy’s shoulder and he reached behind him to caress Harry’s cheek. Harry was in heaven – flying recklessly like a suicidal falcon and holding the most beautiful thing in the world. If this wasn’t love, Harry didn’t know what the hell was. They landed, let the broom drop through their legs and immediately fell upon each other on the pitch with Harry on top of Malfoy, drunk with endorphins and surging with adrenaline. He kissed him with the fury built up from his fruitless aerial pursuit of the boy, seizing what he could not catch in the air. Malfoy opened his mouth and let Harry’s searching, wet tongue slide in. They kissed furiously, hands now groping eagerly, manipulating hair, neck, shoulders, chest. Each touch electrically charged the next, escalating into a passionate frenzy.

Harry reluctantly stopped to breathe and looked down on Malfoy – the perfect picture of a fallen angel with the bright moon reflecting a halo off his platinum hair. “You’re so beautiful,” Harry said breathlessly.

“I’m nothing compared to you,” said Malfoy, brushing his thumb across Harry’s swollen lips.

Harry said meekly, “Me?” What could the other boy possibly see in him? His judgment was certainly made foggy by some kind of magic because Harry, with his unmanageable hair and awkwardly lean body, wasn’t anything special – not like the seraph beneath him.

Draco said, sweeping Harry’s wild fringe from his brow, “You don’t see yourself very clearly, Harry.” Just hearing his name come forth from Malfoy’s lips made his heart flutter, but he gave Harry a smile that seemed reserved for only him, and his heart nearly stopped. He suddenly felt compelled to make it his life’s purpose to make Draco happy, just so he could see him smile like that all the time. Yes, Draco. It was at that moment when he ceased to be Malfoy and truly became Draco.

He pulled Harry down gently, nuzzled his face into his neck and sighed, “You’re absolutely exquisite.” This was some very powerful magic indeed if Draco was this attracted to Harry. Draco grazed softly at Harry’s neck. “You smell so fucking delectable, I want to taste every inch of you.”

And right now, Harry wanted to offer himself as a sacrificial lamb to this hungry god. He wanted Draco to feed upon his body and to feel his mouth on his skin. “Bite me harder,” Harry groaned, delighting in the sensation of Draco’s teeth nipping at his neck.

Draco placed his hand on Harry’s heaving chest and pushed him off. “No. I can’t.” Despite his words, that lustful glint in Draco’s eye had now intensified to a raging inferno and Harry could feel the fire burning through his clothes, ravaging his body.

Harry blushed, worried that he’d become too excited and crossed the line. “Sorry,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as an embarrassed gesture.

Draco was breathing more heavily than was normal for him. “Don’t be. I’m a danger to you, Harry. I shouldn’t even be doing this. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself from hurting you.”

Harry replied, “I know you won’t hurt me,” hoping that verbalizing his trust would make it true, though he knew the danger was very real.

Draco spoke despondently, “How can you trust me like that?”

Harry thought about it as he gazed pensively into Draco’s liquid silver eyes. “If you really wanted to hurt me, if you were meant to hurt me, you would have done it by now. You had many opportunities.”

There was something frightening and desperate in Draco’s countenance, very much like the pained expression he had in Herbology class. “What if I’m about to hurt you right now?”

Harry took Draco’s arms and lifted them over his head, then used one hand to pin them to the ground. “I won’t let you.” He dove back in for another fervent kiss, completely dominating the other boy. Kissing Draco was quickly becoming second nature for Harry. Their bodies seemed to melt into each other as Harry released years of pent-up sexual tension in a reckless meeting of lips. They slowly rocked their hips together to create a delightful friction between their erections. Even through the heavy cloth, Harry could tell that Draco’s desire was raging inside his trousers, screaming to be set free. Harry said with reckless yearning, “I have no idea what I want to do to you, or even how to do it, but I want you so badly right now, Draco.”

“Well, I know exactly what I want to do to you, Harry, and precisely how to do it,” said Draco with a smirk and a voice so lethally sexy it was almost obscene. Then he turned slightly grave and spoke cautiously, “Just know that I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose control and hurt you.” Harry was so aroused that Draco could have told him his kiss was deadly poisonous and he still would have snogged him. Draco said, as if Harry really needed convincing, “But I can promise you that I’ll make you come so hard you’ll see stars.” Draco bit his bottom lip as he smiled deviously, bringing Harry precariously closer to fulfilling that promise.

Harry didn’t know how to respond to such an assertion with words. So he replied with a kiss that declared his consent in the most desperate and eager way. As soon as Harry released his grip on Draco’s wrists, the blond boy went to work on his clothes, quickly shimmying out of his robe, wiggling out of his sweater vest, and loosening his necktie. Harry did the same, but undressed with much less grace and ease than Draco. Harry was perched on top of the boy, straddling him, topless and waiting to follow Draco’s lead whether or not to strip down further. Draco lay beneath him with his oxford shirt open and the pale skin of his bared torso glistening in the moonlight like a perfect marble statue. Harry slid his hands under Draco’s shirt to help the boy out of it, but he seemed unwilling to take it off completely. Draco redirected Harry’s attention to the closures of his trousers, which he was working on swiftly. “Take them off, Harry,” Draco commanded softly. Harry rolled onto his back and pushed his trousers down to his knees. Draco was quickly on him to finish the job, pulling the trousers off his legs.

“You know we could probably disrobe a lot quicker with magic,” mused Harry.

“But undressing you is half the fun,” said Draco as he put his hands on Harry’s abdomen and slowly smoothed them down to his hips. Harry shivered from Draco’s cold, electric touch. Draco curled his lithe fingers around the top of the elastic of Harry’s briefs and eased them down to his thighs. Harry held his breath and his entire body went rigid as his last frontier was bared for the other boy. He was worried that Draco would either be unimpressed or would freak out and decide he was too straight for this. But to Harry’s relief, Draco looked down and sighed with almost spiritual reverence, “Oh, Harry. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Harry watched Draco’s platinum head move down to his lap and he hesitated instinctively. “Wait, Draco. I’ve never-”

But Draco didn’t let Harry finish the thought. “Neither have I,” said Draco with a sly grin as he went down on Harry.

Draco wrapped his lips around the head of Harry’s cock, and he had to stifle a squeal – it felt like he’d jumped into a pool of ice-cold water. Two counter-acting sensations battled against each other, making Harry dizzy from the confusion. On one hand, the cold wetness of Draco’s mouth was anything but pleasant, nearly sending his member retreating back into its foreskin sheath. But on the other hand, the emotional thrill of having Draco Malfoy worshiping his cock was enough to override any discomfort. Harry felt drunk with power as he watched his adversary in one of the most submissive postures possible – on his knees with his blond head bowed reverently over his cock. The sight of it would probably be enough to make Harry climax. He ran his fingers through Draco’s silken hair, brushing back his fringe to unveil his face. Harry watched Draco lapping at the top of the reddened, swollen head, sucking it with such rapture. All the blood rushed from Harry’s brain to his quickly growing erection, rendering him faint. Draco turned his face and slicked the sides of Harry’s cock with his tongue. All of Harry’s muscles contracted with mounting sexual tension.

Then Draco took Harry’s entire length into his mouth, moving his lips down slowly and deliberately over his rigid shaft. And Harry moaned, expressing deep devotion to the deity that gave him such pleasure, “Oh god, Draco.” He savored the sweetness of his name on his lips as he relished the feel of Draco’s tongue sliding over his member, his body now so flushed with a delicious heat that it staved off the initial cold. He swathed Harry’s cock lovingly with his mouth, groaning with delight. His eyelids fell gently closed and his brow furrowed ever so slightly, as if he were completely enthralled by the taste of Harry. Then Harry let his own eyes close to focus on the sensations of intense pleasure radiating from his core. Nobody had ever made him feel this way in his entire life and the fact that it was none other than Draco Bloody Malfoy made it all the more thrilling. Never in a million years would he imagine the arrogant prat’s blond head would be bobbing up and down on his lap, having been utterly subjugated.

Harry never thought he was the type to get off on dominating another person, but he found himself tightening his grasp on Draco’s hair and bucking up gently to slowly fuck his mouth, not caring if he made him gag or not. And surprisingly, Draco took it rather well. So he put more force into his movements, taking control of his pleasure, getting a total kick out of using Malfoy’s smart mouth for such a lewd purpose – the same mouth that hurled insults at him and spat derisively, the same mouth that befouled Harry’s family name to anyone who would listen, the very same haughty, bratty mouth he had the misfortune of encountering his first day at Hogwarts. Harry was fucking that mouth with almost a cruel vengeance. Oh, god, it made him sick with victorious satisfaction. And, bloody hell, Draco was taking it like a needy whore, swallowing him whole. Harry daresay he felt dirty. And fuck, did it feel good! His scar hurt terribly, but the pain was negligible compared to the pleasure he felt right now.