The Erotic Adventures of Potter And Malfoy

Chapter 8


The air shimmered across the Potions classroom as the various fumes from the boiling cauldrons mixed with smoke from the various fires beneath them. Harry frowned, leaning over the cauldron to check the consistency of his potion, and a screwed up ball of parchment bounced off the heated rim of his cauldron and on to the floor. Harry bent and retrieved it, quickly stuffing it into his robes.
“Potter!” Snape called across the dungeon “What are you doing?”
“Just scratching my leg, Professor,” Harry answered back, his eyes widening innocently. From the look Professor Snape was giving him, he didn’t believe a word of it, so Harry held his gaze for a moment more before turning back to his potion. He unfolded the parchment behind his cauldron, picking up a spoon and beginning to stir it again. Looking down, he could see Draco’s distinctive copperplate, in his beautiful trademark shining green ink.

Remember our time in here, Harry? Remember when you sucked me off in here, my hands in your hair and my cock in your mouth? Remember when we were meant to be cleanthesthese desks, and I bent you over that one you’re working behind now, and fucked you hard, my hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning out loud? I love you, Harry. Lets have a repeat performance…

Of course Harry remembered it, he thought about it and grinned slyly to himself every time he walked into this room, generally with D rig right behind him, almost grinding against him as they walked. He looked over at Draco, and saw the Slytherin boy looking back at him.

Blue-grey eyes glittering with lustful malice, long silver blonde hair that he didn’t cut any more because Harry liked it long, and that he’d stopped gelling back across his head, because Harry preferred it down and loose and free. Harry had never said these things, but Draco knew it just the same, saw in the heightened fire that he saw in Harry’s eyes when he looked at him. Draco was so pale, and in the flickering light from the coloured fires, he looked almost inhuman and almost divine as he slowly ran a tongue down one of his canines and along his lower lip.

Dark emerald eyes, looking back at him, incensed and glittering sinfully in the shimmering potion-fume-laden air, and a lock of ebony hair falling over one eye. A fading reddish mark on his neck and those pouting lips, and the movement of his arse under his school robes as he bent over that desk, his fingers splayed, and a hint of a smile on his face. Harry reached up and touched the mark on his shoulder, the mark where Draco had bit him hard and that he’d refused to let anyone heal and anyone but Draco touch at all. It had scarred deeply white into his golden skin, as if Draco had branded him his own. He watched the tip of Draco’s tongue move out and protrude across his lips and he hardened against his desk, rearranging his robes to hide it better.

Draco was enjoying the lazy way Harry closed his eyes and the steady rise of heat in his face, when he saw Snape pause in his perambulations around the class, having caught sight of the piece of parchment under Harry’s hand as he fought for control of himself. Snape walked down towards Harry, who was oblivious of Draco hissing his name and Harry had a horrible moment of déjà vu as Snape whisked the parchment out of his hand, smiling the most horrible smile Harry had ever seen.

“Mr Potter,” Snape said, the piece of parchment crumpled, unread in his hand, “is there any paularular reason why you k yok you are allowed to read personal material in my lesson, when other do not have that happy privilege? I would have thought that the last time I gave the class a sample of your… rather unusual choice of reading matter, you would have learned your lesson.”

The class and room had gone silent, aside from the crackle of the fires and the slow scraping of a chair on the rough stone floor as Draco, once the darling of Slytherin, stood up, took a look at the blushing Harry and said, “Sir, it is not Harry’s fault, but mine. I threw the note to him.”

Snape glanced at him in surprise and then opened the note and read it through. And then he read it through again. His face darkened.
“You have been spared the humiliation this time, not because I have compassion for you, but because I simply will not read such filth out in my lessons. Fictional novels are one thing, but this… Detention, Malfoy. And you too, Potter, for reading it in a lesson. And in the….light of this – this abomination, you will be sure to do them separately. Now get on with your work – in silence.”

Harry sank down gratefully into his hard seat, avoiding the eyes of the rest of the class. He heard Ron snicker and slowly began to chop up some Wormwood roots into thin slices, feeling Snape’s coal-black eyes resting on him for a long time.

Breakfast the next day was porridge, and Hermione shovelled it into his bowl in almost obscene amounts.
“Hermione, what are you doing, I can’t eat this much.” Harry complained, eyeing the small mountain with wide eyes. Hermione put the spoon down and glared at him.
“You’ve not been eating much lately, Harry. All you do is stay with Malfoy. I’m worried about you. Look at you, you’re so thin.”
“I’ve always been thin, Herm. It’s the result of those cupboard days. Don’t say things about Draco, please. It makes me sad.” He looked at Hermione and saw her sigh resignedly, so he began to eat as a compromise. He saw Professor McGonagall approach and she put a note on his table and, without saying a word, turned and swept away again.
“She doesn’t like the thought of you shagging Ferret Boy,” Hermione whispered. Harry merely sighed and opened his note.

Your detention will be in the Potions Classroom tonight at 7:30. Please be there promptly, in order to clean our Professor Snape’s Potions cabinet.

Harry sighed again and ate as much of his porridge as he could, purely to please Hermione. Snape always let his Potions cabinet get as filthy as possible, before then giving it as his harshest detention to whoever had pissed him off most that week, generally Neville. Harry yawned again, the result of another late night, and as a few people got up to leave, he stood up with them, and walked off to Care of Magical Creatures alone, wrapped up in his thick cloak, kicking drifts of frosted leaves out of the way, Draco running out after him to catch him alone for a kiss, and then walking hand in hand with him across the chilled grounds.

And much later, Harry had been locked in the Potion’s room with Snape’s special sealing spell. He was sweating, his arms stained odd colours from the crystallized deposits and odd sticky puddles of liquid in Snape’s infamous cabinet. The rubber gloves he put on just ten minutes ago had dissolved into a steaming mess and Harry had resorted to using a standard knife from the Gryffindor table to prise, chip and lever bits of magical crust off the stained and ancient wood. He swore under his breath, and jabbed with his knife, the blade shivering with the impact on the wood. The knife flicked off a large chunk of something that was a particularly vile purple colour and it struck Harry’s arm, causing a red mark, which began to itch annoyingly. Harry sighed and laid down the knife, moving back to sit on a desk for a few minutes, his arms aching.

He had only been sitting there for a minute or so, when he heard the charm on the door break. He hurriedly scrambled off the desk and reached for the knife.
“I hope you’d at least stab with something else, Harry,” came Draco’s familiar drawling tones. Harry turned around in delight and the blonde jumped om, pm, pressing hard into him and kissing him furiously. Harry pushed him off, laughing.
“Draco! I’m supposed to be locked in here, with no means of escape. You are quite possibly the only person I know who could worm their way past that lock.”
“Oh, it’s pretty easy,” Draco said, easing the front of Harry’s robes undone. “You just have to have spied on Snape locking it,” ontiontinued, his voice muffled now, as he bit gently at the shadowed bottom of Harry’s neck. “He uses a special word,” he muttered, now ensconced around Harry’s earlobe.
“And that word?” Harry croaked, his knees trembling with lust.
“Teabagging.”

Draco stifled Harry’s shout of laughter by pulling the Gryffindor’s lithe body against his own, and running his fingers down Harry’s spine, pulling Harry’s lips in for another hard kiss. Harry’s knees sagged, and Draco knelt down with him, laying him down in the space between the desks. Harry ground against him as Draco pulled Harry’s clothing off roughly, stroking the golden skin as it was revealed. He moaned and Draco started to lick Harry’s chest softly, playing with his nipples. Harry moaned and bucked up against him. Draco disrobed himself as well, and lay down on the hard gasping boy beneath him, the shock of skin on skin making them both gasp. Harry was moaning and writhing against him, so Draco got up on his knees and rifled around in his desk for the small jar of oil he’d secreted there.

Slipping oiled fingers into Harry always made him gasp, at the hotness of him, the way his arms sagged at the first intrusion and his head hung down from his shoulders. At the way he always let out a slightly louder gasp than normal and pressed back against Draco, his eyes rolling back in his head. At the way, if he didn’t move his fingers, Harry would moan with longing and need.
“Please, Draco….”

And that would be all Draco needed to thrust an extra finger into Harry to make sure he was ready and that he wouldn’t hurt him too much and then coat himself and then thrust hard into Harry, making them both cry out.

Harry pushed back as Draco drove into him, shuddering and gasping as he rocked on the cold stone floor, feeling Draco’s fingertips digging in just above his hipbones. Draco watched through slitted eyes as the slim boy moved against him, his skin shining with sweat in the candlelight.

Neither of them heard the charm on the door click off, as Draco thrust faster into Harry. Neither of them heard the sharp intake of breath as Harry bit his lip to stifle a particularly loud moan. Neither of them heard the person steady himself against a desk, as Harry arched his back, trying to take Draco further inside him. But they both stilled as a shadow moved across the light and, still linked together, looked up.

Wearing a startled expression, Professor Snape looked back. Then he staggered over to another cabinet on the wall and pulled out three glasses and a bottle. He tilted it and amber liquid glowed as it splashed from the neck. He picked up the glass with the most in and drank a sip, leaving the others where they were for Harry and Draco, who also hadn’t moved.

Potter and Malfoy looked at each other, and then disengaged themselves slowly and walked over to Snape, sweaty, oily and still hard. They both reached for the drinks, and tossed them back, the Firewhiskey making their throats burn. Snape poured them another and they knocked that back too. Then they turned to each other again and pressed their lips together, sharing the taste, stroking each other’s tongues with their own. One of them, Snape couldn’t tell which, moaned low down in his throat and they broke off, looking into each other’s eyes. They smiled and nodded, and Snape bit his lip as they both stalked towards him, circling around him like prey around a helpless predator.
“Accio book!” Malfoy cried, and a few seconds later, he was holding the slim paperback in his hand.

Harry and Draco stared, the smell of alcohol about them, and their lust increasing by the second. They moved towards each other again, their cocks tantalisingly within reach of Snape’s hands. He reached out for them and they stopped, looking down at him with beautiful clear eyes. Draco dropped the book and it fell to the floor. As one, they both tilted back their heads and closed those eyes as he took them in his hands, stroking and caressing them. Even their chests moved in time as their breathing got ragged once more.

Malfoy looked at Snape, his teeth visible in a lascivious grin. He took Potter by the hand and led him away from Snape, before pushing him down to the floor again. Snape moved as if to join them, but Malfoy paused.
“No, Snape, you stay where you are,” he said, his platinum hair glinting in the firelight. “If I see you move, I’ll stop.” Snape bit down on the sarcastic response screaming up his throat and swallowed hard, his eyes aflame with lust. His fingers gripped the chair arms tightly. Malfoy reached up to the table and picked up the bottle, and looking at Snape with his crystalline eyes, gently tipped it up, so a thin trickle fell onto Potter’s Quidditch-firmed torso. With Snape watching him, Malfoy bent his head and lapped at the whiskey collecting in Potter’s bellybutton. Potter groaned softly as Malfoy lapped at him, his tongue sliding over the muscles, up to his nipples, up to his lips for a quick kiss to share the flavour, and back down again, moving a hand around to cup his arse lightly and pull Potter’s hips upwards towards his mouth. He throated Potter’s length, the whiskey still tingling on his tongue and eliciting a gasp from his lover. Potter shivered and tensed and he pulled away, relishing the taste of him on his lips.

Harry once again got up on all fours, and Draco thrust into him quickly and they both moaned hard, and began to move slowly. Snape couldn’t help himself and he moved out of his chair and in front of Harry, and when they didn’t stop, Snape shed his clothing quickly and knelt in front of Ha his his erection straining. He caught Harry’s eyes, and he opened his mouth and took Snape hungrily inside, his eyes half-closed with sheer pleasure. Snape threw back his head and moaned loudly as Harry took him deep into his mouth, sucking on him hard and flickering his tongue around on the underside, driven harder and deeper onto his cock as Draco pounded into him.

Snape felt himself beginning to tense, and he pulled himself out of Potter and walked around to Malfoy, kneeling behind him. Malfoy tensed up almost immediy, ay, and Snape realised that he probably hadn’t done this very often before. He dipped his fingers into Malfoy’s pot of oil, and slicked him up liberally, before sliding one, then two fingers inside him. Malfoy’s mouth opened in a silent moan of pleasure and pain and he jumped as Snape hit the bundle of nerves inside him. Malfoy began pushing back on the fingers inside him, getting sheathed inside Potter whenever he moved off them. Snape took his fingers away and replaced them with the head of his cock, sliding easily into Malfoy, who was so eager, and who moaned so loudly at the twin sensations of filling and being filled.

They moved as one, thrusting into one another, Harry moaning incohely wly with pleasure, Draco silent, his mouth open in a long silent groan of sheer feeling, Snape grunting softly with each thrust, his brows furrowed in concentration. Snape thrust faster, and in turn Draco sped up to keep pace, and Harry braced himself on one arm, as he was used to, and reached to stroke his cock with the other.

As he moved it swiftly under himself, Snape gave a particularly forceful thrust, and Harry’s arm knocked against the book, which had been lying on the floor where Draco had dropped it. It skated across the floor and into the heart of one of the cauldron fires that were still simmering from the lesson before. In a flash it had caught light, and all three turned to look as it burned fiercely, with a bright scarlet flame. It didn’t take long, about forty seconds, before the book had been reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes.

Draco was the first to react.
“What…the…FUCK are we DOING?” he bellowed, trying to free himself from the embrace he was pinned in. Harry was wriggling out from underneath him, too disgusted to speak. Snape was withdrawing to stand in the shadows, his back to them.
“I think, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, you’d better go.” He said, his voice shaking. Harry looked at Draco, his eyes wide with shock, not able to speak. He grabbed his robes form the floor, dressed swiftly and fled. Draco fled a few seconds later and each raced up to their own towers and their beds to wonder what the hell had been happening over the last three weeks.

Meanwhile, Snape, his fingers trembling, tried to grasp one of the long-necked glass flasks from his workbench, but the first one slipped from his hold and smashed into fragments on the floor. He clutched at a second one and dropped to his knees amid the glass fragments, some cutting into his bare knees, but he didn’t even feel them. He bent and laboriously gathered the ashes of the book into the flask. He put it carefully onto his cherry wood desk, before standing and clothing himself, blood running down his calves. Snape took the flask with him as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him and the candles extinguishing themselves as he began to walk slowly through the darkness of the sleeping castle.