The Blackmail

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and her minions own everything related to Harry Potter and his magical world. I own nothing and make no money from this paltry piece of Potterotica.
Author's Note: Based on this picture posted by Dysonrules on LJ where she asked people to write a story about it. All errors are my own.

---

After he watched the owl fly away, he turned and began to undo his own formal garments and place them in the high back chair adjacent to his dresser. He thought over the note as he carefully removed each garment one at a time.

Potter -

It's amazing who you'll run into at these large reunion parties. Why I was on my way to the loo when I almost tripped over you, literally. Didn't you learn how to hold your liquor at those hideous house parties back in school?

Fortunately, Pansy taught me how to operate the Muggle camera on my cellphone and it seems to work just as well for an unconscious body as a wizard camera. It's a shame you weren't smiling. I think you look quite lovely indecently sprawled across those carpeted stairs. Don't you think?

Since, it's late, I'll get to the point. If you don't want me to send this off to your friends, family, not to mention the Daily Prophet I suggest you meet me tomorrow after work at the Leaky Cauldron. Once you get there, ask Tom what room I'm in then come on up. We can discuss the demands for my silence.

Your favorite photographer,
Draco Malfoy

Draco laughed as he thought of Potter's reaction when he received the owl. Usually, he was above such petty things as blackmail, but after seeing that delicious body laying so sweetly on the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder what the rest of it looked like, both above and below him.

-----------------------

The picture and the note dropped onto the heavily marred table, which was directly under the window in the room Draco had rented. "What's the meaning of this, Malfoy?" the baritone voice growled above him.

Potter was standing behind a seated Draco Malfoy, who was facing the window drinking a spot of Earl Grey tea that Tom had brought up earlier. Draco could feel Potter's body heat against his backside, and he had to keep from shivering from the naked aggressive energy directed at him.

When he heard the door open the second time, Draco refused to turn and acknowledge Potter's presence. It was always best to let your adversary have the first volley. This way you could easily determine his means of attack.

Draco smiled as he put his cup down and turned to face Potter. This was going to be simpler than he thought. Potter, it seemed, was going for the old physically menacing route. That was a common method amongst the Gryffindors, attack with the body before you employed your mind or magic. Patience was always the easiest way to counter such aggression.

"Well, Potter, it's really very simple," he began as he pulled a silver case containing his Cuban cigarillos out of his coat interior pocket. He took out one cigararillo, gingerly placed it between his lips as he snapped his fingers, lighting the tip, and inhaling the sweet first bite of nicotine and smoke. He watched Potter's eyes as they were watching his cheeks hollow from inhaling the smoke. The verdant gaze darkened as he sucked in a lungful of the acidic vapor. This was going to be real easy, he thought.

"I want something for my silence and for deleting that picture from my camera, computer, and other places I have hidden it. I want you to pay me a service, if you will."

"A service? Surely with all your wealth, you can employ someone for whatever deed it is you want me to do. Why not hire a private investigator or an ex-Auror to do your dirty work?"

"Oh, it's dirty work, alright, but not the kind that the Ministry employs you for. No, Potter, what I want is something much more simpler than that.

"You see, ever since I saw that delicious body of yours, I can't seem to get it out of my mind. Now that I know what it looks like, I want to enjoy it under my four other senses. I want to know what it feels like as I graze my fingertips over those taupe nipples, I want to know what your throat smells like as I run my nose along the length of your jugular vein, and I want to know what it tastes like as I wrap my lips around and flick my tongue across the head of your cock. Then, I want to know what sounds you make as you come down my throat. See, a simple request really. And judging by the way said cock is beginning to twitch in your pants, I believe that this may be a mutually benefiting experience."

Potter's eyes widened and then quickly narrowed as he glared at Draco's face.

"How do I know you aren't videotaping this whole conversation right now? How do I know you wont use what we do here to blackmail me further?" Potter asked. Draco could see the faintest bit of sweat begin to condense on Potter's forehead. The room was a slightly chilly, so he knew it wasn't the temperature that was affecting Potter that way.

"You don't, that's what makes this so exciting -- for the both of us. Now why don't you be a good boy and remove, slowly those lovely Ministerial robes and let's begin. Shall we?

If you do a good job, I'll see that that picture is destroyed and never sees the light of day again. If you're very good, I'll arrange for us to meet again."

-----------------------

"Oh fuck, gods yes! I can never get tired of this," Draco moaned as he continued to roughly fuck Potter from behind. The bed's head-frame continued its thumping against the adjacent wall as the bedposts creaked in rhythm from such a violent workout. The raw nerve endings along his cock felt on fire from the way he thrust in and out of Potter's well used ass. His hips acted on their own like a fine motored piston jacking in and out at top speed. He felt savage and animalistic as he leaned his chest down, drapping across Potter's back as he continued to work his way to another orgasm for the day.

Potter's body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he dropped his head down to the pillow in front of him. Draco could hear him making those delightful little mewing sounds that signaled his impending orgasm. He knew that Potter was close now, that they were close, so he brought his shoulders back to begin his final assault.

Draco grabbed onto Potter's hips and dug his fingernails in to keep his grip from slipping off. He threw his head back as he closed his eyes and just focused on the feeling as Potter's channel began to squeeze him in pulsating grips. The way it felt, like a rippling tightness around his cock, made him come every time. It was getting to where he couldn't orgasm, unless he was inside Potter's body. As the Harry wrapped his own hand around his cock, mercilessly stroking it, and coming hard.

"Oh, fuck yes!... That's it, that's it... so good, so good, Harry!--" And Draco froze as his cock pulsated, shooting come deep within Potter's bowels. His mind went blank from the overwhelming sensations, and he fought not to lose consciousness as his orgasm continued to wash over him.

When the last of his release dribbled out, his legs felt like gelatin as he carefully pulled out, wincing as he did, and collapsed on the bed next to a panting Potter, who had collapsed the final distance from being on all fours to his stomach.

After he spent a few moments evening his breath and regaining conscious thought, Draco turned and looked over to where Potter was laying. This had been the sixth time they had met since that first meeting a month ago. Usually, after such a vigorous work out, Potter fell into a deep sleep. The first couple of times, Draco would none-to-gently wake Potter after a couple minutes so they could vacate the premises, separately of course. Lately, though, he found he rather liked watching Potter sleep.

Studying his face and seeing all worry and tension that consciousness etched into Potter's facial features drain away made him feel, well, protective of the other man. How could someone as young as they were be so serious and strained? Didn't Potter have people to watch out for him? Why did he always look so solemn and agitated in public and in the press, but so innocent and peaceful when he slept?

Without thinking about it, Draco lifted his hand to gently brush away a lock of dark, wet hair that hand landed across the angry scar on Potter's forehead. Some part of him wanted to lean over and give a soft kiss across that forehead the way his mother did when he was a child. It was only his masculine pride that kept him from doing so, but still he continued to graze his fingertips along the softened facial features. The look of peaceful abandoned reminded him of that picture he had taken, what seemed like a lifetime ago, the one he still kept as a wallpaper on his cellphone, but never showed to another person. It had become his keepsake, his memento, a special treasure.

Slowly the eyes opened up, a bit confused at first, and then an added warmth was there that he had never seen, or maybe he hadn't noticed before. The change those eyes made made Draco's heart burn in his chest as a rising panic welled in the back of his mind.

"You called me Harry today. Did you notice, Draco? Right when you came. I think that's the first time you've ever addressed me by my first name before," Potter said, his voice was soft and deep like a burgundy Christmas velvet. The sound of his own Christian name uttered in that rich voice made Draco uncomfortable, but only because he wanted to hear it said like that again. The thought of them sharing a bed together on a lazy Sunday morning flitted through his mind and he panicked at the image of such serene domesticity.

"Well, don't get use to it. It was said in the heat of the moment," Draco mumbled as he sat up and finger combed his hair. He looked around the room as he threw his legs over the bedside. He bent down to pick up his pants, putting them on as he stood. The panic that had started in his mind was now traveling like a gasoline streamed fire throughout his entire body. He had to get out of there and think about severity of the situation before it got out of hand. This was just a series of fucks, nothing more. Why was he feeling so out of control?

As he threw on the last of his clothing, he turned and faced Potter again. It seemed extremely rude, even with his hands shaking like they were, to just Apparate without a good-bye.

"So, I'll be seeing you later, Potter," he said as he raised his wand.

"Oh, uh, Draco. I liked it when you said my name. It felt good to hear," Harry said. The warm fire in his eyes was the last thing Draco saw as he turned in place and left the Leaky Cauldron.

-----------------------

After their first three meetings, they had an unspoken agreement to meet on Monday and Thursday evenings in their room. He had paid Tom, the barkeep, heavily both with Galleons and with threats, to let them come and go without interference or questions.

For two weeks, after that look, Draco had made it a point to send post to Potter canceling. He cited previous engagements as the culprit. In the past, when a lover wanted more, Draco was quick to dismiss them. His only regret, he'd cooly tell them, was that his cock wasn't going to get the usual attention it deserved. That's why this situation with Potter had him bothered.

As he sat in his office and pondered the situation, he knew that this time, he was the one who was feeling strangely warm inside whenever he so much as thought of Potter. There would be moments, during the middle of the day, when he'd find his mind wandering in a daydream, thinking about them together, maybe sharing dinner or catching a Quidditch game. He'd imagine Harry, damnit, Potter laughing at an inside joke that only they knew about. Or else he'd imagine what it would be like to really take his time and make slow, passionate love to, alright, Harry, all night long, then wake in the morning to start all over again.

Having thoughts like that about his schoolboy nemesis was unnerving to say the least. He'd worry that he'd start swooning over Harry, acting like a lovesick loon or one of the myriad of his gushing admirers. As much as he wanted to call the whole thing off, and let his heart heal from this delayed adolescent crush, he also wanted to find out if there could be more between them. After all, weren't all Gryffindors romantics at heart? Didn't they each picture the happily ever after?

Until he could figure out a foolproof way to find out Harry's feelings without anyone knowing, he saw no point in continuing the 'arrangement'. Maybe Harry would take it out of his hands and call the whole thing off.

He began to look for a quill to post another canceling letter to Harry when there was a knock on his office door.

Estelle, his secretary, knew better than to disturb him when his office was shut and so it was with mild annoyance that he called out, "Enter" from behind his desk.

Messy black hair and those beautiful, green eyes behind thin black frames popped in and then out as Harry Potter proceeded to fully open and enter Draco's office unannounced.

"Your, um, secretary, Estelle, said it would be alright if I just knocked. I think she was a little nervous when she saw an Auror coming to talk to her boss," Harry said as he looked around the room and finally setting his gaze on the desktop, avoiding Draco's intent stare. He walked up to one of the opposite chairs and asked to take a seat before he finally looking at Draco. For someone who faced dark lords and nefarious wizards and witches for a living, Harry Potter looked extremely nervous and a bit frightened.

"So, I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing. It's been awhile since we've seen each other and I was just wondering if you were alright. You've been busy and I guess... well, to be honest, I guess I missed you," he said, the last few words were so quiet that Draco had to strain his ears to hear them.

It was the soft, unspoken fear, in that voice that finally broke Draco's resolve and helped him to make the next move. If Harry was brave enough to come here, and face a possibly ending situation with longing dripping from his voice then surely Draco could do the honorable thing and redeem some of the man's pride by helping him save face.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry. There have been so many things coming up that I just haven't been able to meet with you again. In fact, I was just getting ready to send you another post letting you know that I wouldn't be able to see you again tomorrow." With that, Harry's face went from apprehensive to distraught. His mouth formed a silent 'O' that broke part of Draco's heart to see.

"You see, there's a charity event tomorrow and my family is a major contributor. It's to help permanent resident patience at St. Mungo's. My mother was going to attend it with me, but she's out of the country and won't be able to attend. In fact, I was wondering if you'd like to attend this with me, hence the post." Draco could feel his voice begin to crack in those last few words. He was letting his own pride rise or fall with Harry's response and it wasn't like him to depend on someone else for his own happiness. A familiar panic began to rise in the back of his brain and he did his best to try to squash it down while he waited for Harry's response.

When Harry looked up again, Draco knew that his imagined fears were unfounded. That warm fire that had been in Harry's eyes the last time they were together was back again by tenfold. The overall change in Harry's eyes, his face, and the emergence of a unique smile for a moment stole Draco's breath away. What had started out as a bit of blackmail for a one-off shag was turning into something he never thought would happen.

"I would love to attend with you, Draco," Harry said. The way his sultry voice whispered out those words, it seem to have an unknown connection to Draco's cock. "What time should I be ready?" Harry asked momentarily shaking Draco from his sexual daydream.

"Why don't you come by my place first and we can catch up on things," Draco purred.

The End!