Ruse

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: One sentence shamelessly stolen from BTVS (albeit modified a teensy bit to suit the fandom).
Thank you so much to my wonderful betas delly and fawkesfeather!


Harry sat in the hall, huddled under his cloak, watching as the students cheerily walked by. A new school year had started, and everyone was excited to be back. He enjoyed the lack of scrutiny the cloak afforded, and watched with amusement as Cho Chang tried to discreetly fish something out of the depths of her nose.

Curfew approached and the hall emptied; only the footsteps of the prefects could be heard now. He stood-up cautiously, concealed under the cloak, and walked towards the prefects’ bathroom. The warm water would soothe his tense muscles and relieve his now constant headaches. He turned the tap and stripped, methodically folding his clothes in a neat pile. When he was about to get in he heard a noise from the door.

Frozen in place he watched Draco Malfoy step in and stare.

Harry expected to lose several hundred points from Gryffindor for being out past curfew. He expected snide remarks about his hardness. He certainly didn’t expect Malfoy to flush while gaping, then turn and run like a madman.

Not wanting to get caught by anyone else, he quickly dressed and with a quick flick of his wand, dissipated the water in the bath. He probably went to get Snape, Harry thought as he hurried down the corridor.

He swung open the portrait door to Gryffindor tower, and knocked out Colin Creevy who happened to be passing by. Without delay, Harry continued to make his way to the dorm instead of apologizing or helping the boy up, and ignored his housemates’ questions and outrage. He swept aside the dirty clothing covering his trunk, and spelled it open. Lying on top of the pile was the Marauder’s map.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Draco Malfoy’s footsteps moved swiftly into the dungeons, to a room at the edge of the castle. He watched as the Slytherin began pacing, and Harry wondered where he was and what he was up to. Ron burst into the room just as Harry grabbed his Firebolt, opened the window, and flew out into the warm night.

***

Draco was stunned.

He had gone to the Prefect’s bathroom to relax, and instead found Harry-fucking-Potter, gloriously naked. Damp slicked-back hair, lean body, and a hard cock that just begged to be worshipped. Despite Draco’s changed loyalties, he still considered Potter his enemy. An enemy that deserved to be hexed and obliterated. All he wanted to do was wrap his fingers around Potter’s throat, slam him into a wall, and…devour his mouth.

The blond could certainly appreciate the visually pleasing aspects of his arch-nemesis, and also could accept how such a sight could make him want to have sex. He was 18, and most things made him want to have sex. Hell, looking at the castle floors made him want to have sex. Draco was also a self-proclaimed hedonist; he quickly removed his clothing and lay back on his bed.

Harry flew to the opposite end of the castle and landed softly. He walked to a series of small gothic-styled windows just off the ground. Crouching, he peered through one and saw Vincent Crabbe devour a large pink fairy cake. In the next window he saw Pansy Parkinson studying, brows furrowed in concentration, and in the next Gregory Goyle was talking to himself in front of the full-length mirror. He thought about how spoilt each Slytherin student must be to have their own room, only to have his train of thought demolished when he came upon the blond seeker spread out on his bed.

Perfect milky skin, platinum hair fanned out on a black satin pillow, muscular legs bent at the knee, revealing a perfect ass. Malfoy slowly stroked himself, and Harry’s hands moved to release his own burgeoning erection. He wondered if the Slytherin was inspired by what occurred in the Prefect’s bathroom earlier. Or what his friends would say if they knew he was such a voyeur.

The Gryffindor watched with interest as Malfoy reached for his wand and cast a spell that covered him in a shimmery mist. The blond began writhing and clutched the sheets as his cock was enveloped by it. Harry wished he could taste the moans, lick the exquisite form. Slowly, he looked over the pale, taut flesh, the mussed hair, marvelled at the flushed lips. Eagerly anticipating the Slytherin’s next move, he stoked himself leisurely, imagining what Malfoy’s cock would taste like.

Draco’s body was on fire. The spell felt like thousands of sharp kisses, caressing, nipping, stroking his body, stroking his cock. He saw Potter’s emerald eyes, filled with lust, looking down at him, wanting him. He could feel the Gryffindor’s breath ghosting down the shaft, the faintest trace of lips and tongue along the head. He bit his lower lip and moaned. Thinking about Potter’s cock, he wondered what would have happened if instead of running away, he had dropped to his knees. Would the other seeker be touching him instead of the mist? One thing was clear to him though, the current spell wasn’t enough tonight.

Kneeling on the ground, Harry continued stroking. It was a warm autumn night, and he welcomed the gentle breeze on his flushed skin. He had discarded his invisibility cloak, the risk of discovery adding to the excitement. His breath caught as he watched Malfoy reach to his bedside table for a dildo and small bottle. Harry bit his hand to keep from crying out as he watched the blond cover the object with oil, then slowly insert it as he grasped his cock with his other hand. The Slytherin reached for his wand and animated it.

After uttering the incantation, the dildo thickened with each thrust. The pace was painstakingly slow, and the blond seeker whimpered at the contact. He stroked his own cock in rhythm with the animated movements, and once again pictured his arch-nemesis on top of him, preparing him, entering him.

Outside the window, Harry stroked himself fervently, his other hand leaning against the crumbling castle wall. Watching Malfoy pleasure himself was the hottest thing he had ever seen. The blond spread his legs further as the animated object pounded, eliciting what could only be screams judging from his expression. Harry pictured his own cock fucking the open mouth, or better yet, turning the seeker over onto his hands and knees, grabbing the slender hips, and ramming into him as hard as the dildo was. Eyes never once moving from Malfoy, he watched as the Slytherin came at the same time he did, the pale body arching in a violent release.

***

Memories of Oliver Wood kissing him behind the Quidditch pitch still made him hard. But Oliver had graduated shortly after their discovery, and Harry was left casting silencing charms around his four-poster bed. Alone. He occasionally thought about telling Hermione and Ron about his preferences, but the timing never seemed right. He was fairly certain they suspected something, just as he had always suspected that his friends were in love. They reminded him of Molly and Arthur Weasley, he thought with a smile. Maybe he should focus on getting the two of them together. That would get his mind off of Malfoy. Harry sighed, picturing Draco spread out in front of him.

Lost in thought as he walked into double potions with Slytherin, Harry decided he was going to have to be very careful around Malfoy. If anyone found out, they would never understand his attraction. He didn’t even understand why he had watched him that night. When he wasn’t fighting Voldemort, Harry Potter spent his time playing Quidditch and hating Draco Malfoy. Now all he wanted to do was lick his way up…

Harry found himself on the floor after encountering a moving wall. Disoriented, he slowly looked up until mercurial eyes came into focus.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

The two seekers faced each other, eyes widening, blood rushing to their groins. They quickly stood up as they realized they were staring, and silently rushed to their seats. Everyone else stood there, stunned.

Ron and Hermione tried to question him during the lecture, but all they got were lost house points. Pansy and Blaise observed Draco, wondering whether boy-wonder had cast a mind-control spell on their friend. Draco thought about emerald eyes. He smirked as he realized it had always been his favourite colour.

A week had passed since the encounter, but both seekers found it difficult to function around one another. Malfoy quit throwing insults, not only at Harry, but at everyone, and spent most of his time sulking. Harry was drowning in his thoughts and would blush furiously when he saw the blonde Slytherin. Their friends found their behaviour very suspicious, but further questions brought them nowhere.

Harry had been visiting Malfoy every night, hovering outside his window for hours, picking at blades of grass. He unsuccessfully attempted to do his homework outside the Slytherin’s window, waiting impatiently for the nightly show. He was attracted to Draco Malfoy, sworn childhood enemy, his opposite in every way, the one he wanted to fuck senseless. And the thought didn’t make him sick. Harry smiled wickedly, wondering what Malfoy would think if he knew he was being watched.

The days crawled by for Draco. He knew everyone wondered what was wrong with him. Every time he was faced with Potter, he would force himself to open his mouth, but to his horror nothing came out. Instead, a gloriously naked Harry would stand in front of him.

He would sneak looks at the object of his desires throughout the day. Later in his room, he would get himself off, his thoughts wrapped up in what could never be. What he couldn’t have. Which was ludicrous, he realized, after all he was a Malfoy, and could therefore have anything. And he would get what he wanted.

He pored over the books he had taken from the Manor, and spent hours in the Hogwarts library. Every night he would go back to his room and furiously pump his cock, thoughts only on Harry. Finally he found a somewhat illegal potion similar to the Imperius curse, where the person would be susceptible to any and all suggestions for 1 hour, and was untraceable. It would be perfect, and Potter would be his.

He set about brewing the potion, easily taking the supplies from Severus Snape and his private storage. Unlike Scarface, he excelled at Potions, only the other students never bothered to realize that he earned his high marks fairly.

Getting Potter to drink the potion would be another matter. The Gryffindor table was at the opposite end of the Great Hall, so he couldn’t pretend to trip and accidentally spill it all over the object of his lust. His own housemates or a Ravenclaw couldn’t be trusted, a Hufflepuff couldn’t be bribed, and the house elves loved the Golden Boy too much. He briefly considered spiking all of the pumpkin juice, but it would look very suspicious if he suddenly disappeared with Boy Wonder in the middle of what would undoubtedly be chaos.

In the end he decided to simply intimidate a first year Gryffindork into submission, and offered him a sum of money to ensure action. While there was a slight chance the plan could backfire, he was certain it was his best bet. Grinning, he resumed preparing the potion, lost in thoughts of soon-to-be naked Harry.

***

“Whadda ya think’s gotten into Malfoy lately?” Ron asked, scowling at the blond from across the Great Hall. “It’s been almost two weeks, and he hasn’t said a word to you or anyone else.”

Harry looked down at his toast, trying not to blush at the thought of Malfoy gagged, unable to scream obscenities as he came. He had become obsessed with the Slytherin, and pictured them together constantly. Last night was particularly bad – he dreamt that Draco was wearing a schoolgirl uniform, complete with unbuttoned white blouse, Slytherin tie loosely knotted around his neck, and a LipService-style kilt; they were fucking on Snape’s desk right in the middle of potions class.

His nightly excursions were certainly well rewarded, and Harry knew he was going to get caught soon. But, he also knew he couldn’t stop watching him.

“Ron, I…” he was interrupted by a small boy holding a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Harry, thank you very much for the flying tips,” he recited. “I hope to be as good as you one day.” He nervously pushed the glass towards Harry, then turned and ran out of the room.

“Oh, that was so cute,” Hermione gushed.

“Weird kid,” muttered Ron.

“Saves me the trip,” Harry shrugged, and then downed the contents of the glass. He was about to leave, but the morning post arrived, and Hedwig dropped an unmarked envelope in his plate.

Go to the portrait of Wilbur the Great in the Charms Corridor. The password is Dragon’s blood. Go through the secret passageway to my bedroom and wait for me there.

“What’s that mate?” Ron asked.

“Dragon’s blood”, Harry said reverently and stood to leave.

“Are you feeling alright, Harry? Maybe you should sit down.”

“Oh, ok.” He mechanically sat back down.

Draco watched the scene intently from the other side of the room, not understanding what had gone wrong. Potter clearly drank the potion, got the note and promptly stood up, but the know-it-all spoke to him and must have suggested something else. The Slytherin got up as the trio left the table together. Quickly moving through the semi-crowded hallway, he got behind Harry and whispered “Wilbur the Great”, hoping it would be enough.

Harry’s friends never noticed when he turned down an empty corridor and Draco allowed himself to breathe again. He followed the Gryffindor from a distance and they made their way through the hallways. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the charms corridor and the boy-who-lived began examining the portraits.

Harry noticed that most of the paintings were of famous charms masters, a few of whom were former professors at Hogwarts. Most of the inhabitants were levitating either themselves or various items that typically appear in pictures – chairs, cushions, the occasional bowl of fruit. He finally came upon Wilbur the Great, who was levitating a tree.

“Dragon’s blood” he said calmly and cocked his head as the wood-panelled wall next to the portrait swung open.

Harry slowly made his way down the torch-lit passageways. He heard the wall close behind him as he went down a series of steps. The air was getting damper and the walls mouldier. He reached an open door and found himself in a walk-in closet the size of Dudley’s bedroom, full of expensive-looking robes, all organized by colour and fabric. He opened another door and stepped into a tidy bedroom, decorated in green and black. A large walnut four-poster bed with green velvet curtains dominated the room, and bookcases lined the walls. Baubles and trinkets covered almost every surface.

Cautiously, Draco opened his bedroom door, having come through the Slytherin common room. Harry stood by an imposing desk, turning his head at the noise.

“Potter,” the Slytherin drawled. “What brings you here?”

“I don’t…none of your business.” He blinked at Draco.

“Perhaps you should get more comfortable.” Harry looked at him questioningly. “Remove your clothing. Slowly.”

Draco sat back on his bed, as Harry unclasped his school robe and let it fall to the ground. He pulled his dark blue T-shirt off, revealing a muscular chest and flat stomach, his shoulders broad and strong just as Draco remembered. Leisurely, he unzipped his baggy trousers and let them slide down, leaning forward as he untied his shoes and stepped out of them. Finally, he grabbed the top of his cotton boxers and pushed them off, revealing a very hard cock.

Draco swallowed, not expecting the seeker to be turned on.

“Undress me.”

Harry gently approached Draco and grasped his cloak, never breaking eye contact as he peeled off the layers of clothing. He slowly unbuttoned the crisp white shirt, and ran his fingers across the bare chest. He got down to his knees and removed his shoes and socks, carelessly flinging them aside, still looking up into stormy eyes. The Gryffindor reached up, lightly caressing the still clothed thighs, and ever so slowly, removed Draco’s belt, undid the button, undid the zipper, then lowered his pants and boxers in one fluid motion.

As Draco lifted each leg to step out of the remaining clothes pooled at his ankles, he tried to stop shaking. He watched as Harry kept his gaze, a smile just below the surface. He knew though, that it was only wishful thinking and banished the thought as he watched the naked Gryffindor stand in front of him.

“Kiss me,” Draco whispered, barely containing his excitement.

Harry took a step forward and softly brushed his lips against the Slytherin. He pulled him into a tight embrace, causing Draco to gasp at that unexpected touch. The Gryffindor opened his mouth and sucked on Draco’s lower lip, deepening the kiss as the Slytherin moaned. The blond was lost in desire as their bodies pushed together, their hands caressing and exploring. He dropped to his knees, and pressed his face into Harry’s erection, breathing in his scent. He nuzzled his inner thigh and planted small kisses, aware he was trembling with fear and delight. He looked up at Harry and studied his face, taking in the flushed cheeks, his lips red and swollen, his expression one of fear? Anticipation?

Draco held Harry’s length, stroking another for the first time. He leaned closer and took the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth, encouraged by the whimpering noises Harry was making. He licked up and down the shaft, and then took in the whole length. Harry let out another moan and reached down to Draco, entwining his fingers in the silky strands.

“Oh, Draco” he breathed as he continued to be devoured. Malfoy licked eagerly at hearing his name. Not wanting to wait much longer, Draco reached down to his robe and retrieved a small bottle, pouring the slick contents over Harry. He looked up and saw blazing green eyes.

“Fuck me.”

Harry climbed onto the bed and led Draco with him. He laid the blond down on his back, then took the bottle and dripped some of the oil on his fingers. The Gryffindor spread the blond’s legs, his fingers pressing against the hole until accepted. He cupped Draco’s chin and looked into the stormy eyes until he felt him relax.

“Fuck me. Now.”

Harry removed his fingers and positioned his cock, pausing at the entrance. Draco held his breath, the only sound his beating heart. He pushed his hips forward and was filled.

“Oh, Merlin.”

Harry was inside of him. He finally belonged to the Gryffindor.

The gentle kisses from earlier were gone, a rough passion borne from their hidden desires. Harry desperately slammed in and out of Draco, his fingernails digging into his lover’s flesh. The Slytherin reached up and grasped the strong biceps, using them as leverage to meet the Gryffindor’s hard rhythm. He listened to Harry moan, felt him claw at his shoulders and chest, and nearly came from the sensory overload. Too consumed to notice, Harry abruptly pulled out and roughly flipped him over.

Harry grabbed Draco’s hips and forcefully tore in and out again. The blond’s screams grew louder and louder as the other seekers cock was angled perfectly, until driven to oblivion. His knees started to buckle underneath him, and he struggled to keep himself up. He felt Harry lean over him, reaching around his waist to his dripping cock. He heard him murmuring the sweetest obscenities, his breath ghosting on his neck, his body hot and slick. The Slytherin’s release was swift, anguished, bittersweet, glorious, and Harry came screaming his name. The two collapsed, silently mesmerized.

***

He was aware of warm flesh pressed against him. The rush of memories and sensations flooded his system; panicking he realized he was now covered by a blanket. Green eyes stared at him. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say. They were still in his dorm room and he had fallen asleep in Potter’s embrace. His childhood enemy just grinned as Draco tried to move away. A strong arm grabbed his waist.

“Do you always have to do everything the hard way?”

The initial shock turned to self-belligerence, as Draco realized the potion must have run its course. He tried to compose himself. “P-Potter…what is the meaning of this?”

Harry drew him closer. “Shhhh…I want to get a few more hours. I haven’t slept much the last few weeks,” he whispered.

“Potter, what the fuck…”

Harry pushed Draco onto his back and climbed on top of him.

“You should know by now,” Harry said as he kissed him “that your schemes never get by me.” Grinning, he kissed him again. Draco, wide-eyed, froze, unable to respond.

“Draco,” he purred seductively “what I’m trying to say is that bribing and threatening a Gryffindor will never ever work. And while I’m flattered at the amount of effort you must have gone through to make that potion, you could have just asked.”

“I…what are you saying?” Draco asked dazedly.

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m saying I noticed you noticing me. I’m saying that the pumpkin juice was never spiked. I’m saying that I took a lucky guess that you wanted me under your control and I enjoyed every second of it. So, shall we continue what we started earlier?”

And with that, the boy-who-lived disappeared under the covers, taking the blond’s cock into his mouth.

The End