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The dirt in owl feathers	By : lorielen Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2148 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The dirt in owl feathers
- 1
Title: The dirt in owl feathers

Author: Lorielen

Pairing: HP/DM

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Blood, owl feathers and sick dirty little obsessions.

Warnings: Dubious consent, violence, hints at questionable mental health.

AN: For Justin Etre, because I really wish I could have stayed longer that night. For indulging in D/H with me, as well as general madness. For showering me with gifts and affection and useless random knowledge, and infecting me with a Liv fetish. For being blatantly deserving of tongue-fucking. And most of all for being so special and dear to me.

~Lorielen

-*-

The dirt in owl feathers

Players only love you when they're playing
-*-

Owl feathers flocked in the dark, framing the deadly glare Harry was fixing his nemesis with. The hitting of Draco's head against the damp wall had been soundly, and Harry deducted the blond's skull must be pounding.

He hoped so.

Blood was running from the pale boy's nose, which was only fair since thick redness streamed from Harry's mouth as well. How had they come to this?

Ah, of course.

Casual running into each other late at night in the owlery. Too late at night, Harry remembered acknowledging with a yawn. And on a more annoyed note, didn't Malfoy ever look tousled? Then there were the usual spitted insults, clenched fists. Malfoy's wand sparkling threateningly close to his forehead, and Harry's fingers curling around the wood, the bitten nails digging on his own palm as his eyes and gesture threatened to break Malfoy's prized possession.

Bloody dragon heartstring wouldn't be of any avail against THAT.

A swift move, and Draco's wand had slipped from his sweaty grip, the slenderer boy's knuckles brushing in the contact with Harry's face.

Shithead wanker, Harry thought as he stared down at his bloodied fingers, his split lip tasting of iron. Malfoy's smug sneer was shattered when his slim shoulders were grabbed, bony frame shoved against the owlery stone wall.

Long, graceful limbs struggling, and Harry's hands took hold of something more tender.

Power. It had sparkled between his tense fingers, ready to crack the wood, and Harry felt it anew as he tightened his hold of Malfoy's pale throat. Life pulsating in his hands, filling the Gryffindor with something he didn't know he craved so badly.

Or, rather, that he ordinarily didn't allow himself to acknowledge his hunger for.

His smirk mirrored Malfoy's in sinful malice. He stepped closer, able to smell the other boy's cologne and blood, feel the heat Draco's shapely body was letting out. His thumb pushed against the smooth Adam's apple; the unexpected answer he got was purring. To which he hissed back in disbelief.

"You sick fuck, you're ENJOYING this!"

Not really; it was better known as 'taunting', Draco rolled his eyes. Anyhow.

Malfoy smirked, baring his teeth, and it was a sight even less pleasant than usual, for there was brownish-red all over.

Obscenely, the dangly boy wiggled his hips.

Unmistakably aroused, which gave things a whole new dimension in Harry's mind. Not that he'd never considered fucking Malfoy into spilling blood, but...

He'd never considered fucking Malfoy, period.

Draco blew air skywards, moving strands of stained hair away from his eyes. Coquettish. The small breeze dissolved the last traces of Harry's wagering reluctance. The hint of intention straining against Malfoy's pants flared Harry's eyes ablaze as he was struck by echoes of needy moans, of fisting himself in darkness, cocooned in shameful desire. Days worth of stolen glances, learning just how the sinuous body moved.

How he wanted Malfoy at the end of a leash, to watch the skin grow green and purplish as it would tighten, strangling. Did the sod have any idea of what he did to Harry's dignity, Harry's pheromones?

He surely did look as though he were perfectly aware of the jarring effect he had on everyone.

Harry's tongue darted to prod at the corner of his own mouth, curled in irkish disapproval, and he watched the boy beneath him follow his move hungrily. He savoured the uncertainty that flickered in the blond boy's eyes, letting spread in his own face the devilish grin that was the cause of it. He tightened the grip on Malfoy's throat in silent menace as he reached for his wand, and his racing heart skipped a beat in delight at how the Slytherin's eyes widened upon the uttering of a binding spell.

"Potter, wha--" Tugging at the wrist boundary. Harry tried not to think of how kinky the choice for leather made him.

Harry's bloodied hand was quickly brought to quieten Draco, fingerpads covering the bruised thin lips in a rough manner. Then the Saviour of the Wizarding World swore heavily, a musky whisper under his breath as he pulled back his bitten hand to strike against aristocratic cheekbone, marring the skin.

The pair glared viciously at each other, both furious and so aroused that it stung. Until Draco smiled cat-like.

"So Gryffindor to bitch-slap."

Harry leaned forward, breathing heavily. He let his forehead rest against Draco's, the tendrils of damp black hair brushing against the other boy's glittery skin.

"Just shut up."

An exasperated sigh as much as a whispered plea. Harry's breath tickled Draco's reddened, pouty lips. The Slytherin then leaned up, defiantly capturing Harry's mouth in a bruising kiss.

In spite of his bound hands, seeming restraint, Draco had no doubt he was perfectly in control of the situation. For long had he known that sex conveyed power, and as such should be skilfully wielded by a Malfoy. Instead of worrying over the bounds biting at his delicate skin, he was fascinated by this untamed side of Harry Potter. No words, no morals. He had seen it twinkle in the Gryffindor's eyes before, untarnished and blazing, struggling under the layers of Red and Gold. Draco had spotted it, and licked his lips in feline anticipation.

Waves of warmth spread throughout the dark-haired boy, making the tips of his fingers tickle in their haste to touch marble-like complexion. Harry abandoned himself to the predatory desires, for once lowering his head to ravish the Malfoy Heir, nipping at the sensitised skin on the curve of Draco's neck, drinking in the strangled little mewls he was provoking. Malfoy, ever the whore, slid a leg up and around his hip, clasping it and drawing Harry closer, shamelessly rubbing against him. Gryffindor Wonderboy growled his contentment.

Draco snorted, his cheeks tinged with pink. He was a delicacy, and yet in full control. Insults rolled easily on his tongue, and he made Harry's name sound like swearing.

Dirty.

"You're so pathetic, Potter. Ever driven by your ridiculous impulses."

Funny thing for one to pant out, leaking precum against a wall.

"I said shut up."

Harry's tone was dark as he knelt down and began to work on the clasp of Malfoy's belt.

"Some position to make a threat." Sneer from above. Harry paid it no heed. He could see Malfoy's taut abdomen tense up at the promise of his touch. He sternly inspected the Slytherin's erection when it sprang free from cloth.

" 'Yummy' is the word you're looking for."

Harry just nuzzled forward, against Malfoy's inner thigh, inhaling deeply. His fingers were curled around the slim boy's hips, thumbs caressing the skin slowly, rubbing hard enough to bruise. He wanted to bruise. His eyes were closed, and he took his time breathing in the other boy's scent, feeling him up with his face and fingers. His skin was smooth as expected, sweet to the touch. The muscles were lean and firm, moulded by Quidditch and Draco's family name alike. Harry's lips parted and his tongue darted out to lap at Malfoy's scrotum, tasting the ridges and curves, sweat and the hiss Draco let out. His knuckles whitened as he held bony hips, keeping him from thrusting forward.

Then he planted an open-mouthed, sucking kiss to the underside of Draco's cock.

"Potter."

No answer, just Harry's warm exhaling against Draco's oversensitised skin. He felt long fingers ghosting over his scalp, all scrambled together by the bounds to Malfoy's wrists. Green eyes squeezed shut tighter still as he leaned in the caress. Silence was heavy on the pair.

"What is this." A breed of question and menace, and Harry deigned to look up. Malfoy was bright-eyed with desire and suspicion. His pale skin shone unnaturally in the scarce light of the owlery, chest rising and descending as he panted, the pinkish buds of his nipples standing out.

And Harry had no idea of how to answer that. How could he put nameless and forbidden longing in words, the urge to hurt, to make Malfoy bleed and contort in pain, bruise that untainted skin, tantalising and tempting in its unmarred perfection? Such hunger for destruction couldn't be described. However, it seemed more natural to Harry than its twin, the craving he had for tender handling of Draco. Hence the burning in his chest at the small touches, Draco's fingertips tracing his eyebrows.

He leaned up to kiss the pad of a longish index finger, his hands tracing reverently the length of Draco's legs, fingers wrapping around the ankles.

A swift move, and the Malfoy Heir fell - unsurprisingly gracefully - on his butt, his fall smoothened by Harry's hold of his waist. Uncharacteristically, no protest was uttered, and Harry couldn't feel the silvery eyes on him any longer.

All the better.

Draco's eyes snapped open from pensiveness at the feel of slick digits insinuating between his cheeks. Wantomly he spread his thighs, an unspoken whimper approving of the invasion. Droplets of voice as he panted heatedly, preparing a snide remark that was ran over by a loud moan.

"OH!"

Yanking at Harry's unruly hair. Timid wetness brushed against his opening. Harry's tongue was softer than his fingers, warmer and more slippery too. Torturing in its slow exploration of the puckered ring of muscle. Harry held him down with no mercy while his tongue leisurely slipped in to feel at Draco's inner walls.

Draco writhed in a serpentine manner, a Malfoy desperate for complexion. He let out a soundly gasp when Harry's Seeker fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed, stimulation doubled, an onslaught against his nerve ends.

All of a sudden there were no more intricate analysis, no more games, only Harry's wet and heated mouth ghosting over his throbbing genitalia. Draco whimpered his need, pride streaming down, washed away by pheromone-ridden sweat that covered his beautiful body.

Harry knew for sure that he was not in love with Malfoy. He didn't even like him. He only wanted to fuck the idiot senseless, wipe away the unnerving ethereal superiority Draco clad himself with, drag the boy down to the same sinful and filthy state he led Harry to, many a time. He wanted to smear the perfection of Malfoy's face with his fists until it would be fit for spitting it, instead of a kiss magnet.

He wanted to destroy that beauty and lordliness of himself so that he could not envy or want Draco anymore, ever. So that the sod wouldn't stain Harry's own carefully built morals.

All those things haunted Harry at night, but none shadowed his mind as he ravished the pale and pointy body beneath his. His own cock was so hard that it ached, but he dared not take his hands from Draco. His own desire lit his eyes and added fierce vigour to his tongue-fucking of Draco's anus. Thus it was that he cried out when a slim leg of Malfoy's slid between his own to press against his unattended arousal. The vibration of his tongue made Draco arch, the curve of him exquisite, but Harry didn't much care because he was busying himself with lame humping of the Slytherin's shin.

Then there was a loud hiss, and yanking of his hair. He growled, and looked up to meet Draco's eye-roll.

"Potter, you asinine being. Get your arse UP here!" Nails digging in Harry's shoulders, feeble pulling. Childlike pout and control pretense.

Harry smiled darkly as his nostrils captured Draco's sheer need of him.

He slid upwards, moaning at the full body friction he got as he positioned himself between Malfoy's thighs, one knee of the slenderer boy's against his chest. The idea of further lubrication crossed his mind briefly, but was dismissed. That was Malfoy. Delicate Malfoy who made such a fuss over a broken nail.

Harry rammed inside him without preambles; no niceties between long-time nemesis.

The heat of him massacred all manner of mindwork on Harry's part. He trembled slightly and waited until he had regained shreds of composure before opening his eyes. They bore into victorious silver ones, a knowing smirk. Wiggle of hips, welcoming Harry's throbbing erection, and the Gryffindor renewed his resolve to fuck Malfoy's sneer into smashing. He glided himself out of Draco's tightness to force entrance shortly, and was rewarded with a strangled groan.

Green eyes turned to slits of mingled libido and viciousness as Harry pounded into the slimmer Seeker. Powerful. His right hand shakily matched the rhythm on its pumping of Draco's cock, squeezing the hardened flesh. Mewls poured from the other boy's lips, low gibberish, lots of cursing with Harry's name distinguishable among it, and his arsehole clamped impossibly tight around Harry's cock as he came spurting all over their stomachs.

Harry, eyes dark pools of lust, lifted himself on his elbows to watch the aftermath trembling of Draco's naked gorgeousness. He was painstakingly hard, twitching for release and yet couldn't tear his eyes away from the exposed jugular, how Malfoy's skin glittered in its enveloping of perfection.

A blur of movement caught his attention and he acknowledged it as a wiggling index finger. Instants later his confused face was pulled down for his lips to be claimed in a fierce kiss, long legs wrapping around his hips, calves digging on his hips. Harry allowed himself to melt in the softness of that willing body, content with being held through his climax. He was swept in pleasure, his heightened senses making very vivid the feel of Malfoy's fingernails tracing intricate designs on his scalp.

Reason twirled back inside him and Harry jumped to his feet, his nerve ends protesting against the loss of heat and silk smoothness. He pointedly ignored everything as he pulled his trousers on. Not looking up, he shoved shirt buttons in random and often mismatching cases. His voice came out rasping but firm as he berated.

"Don't stare."

"Oh."

Burning indignation. Harry felt rather than heard the other boy slid to a standing position to come tower over him. He kept his gaze lowered, refusing to look at Draco's face, and found his eyes obtusely attached to the sight of Malfoy's belly narrowing into his navel, and his flaccid, spent member.

"As if you didn't have your tongue up my arse minutes ago."

"I'm not the type who calls." Harry offered dryly. He noticed the confusion knitting Malfoy's eyebrows and sighed, short-tempered yet condescending. "Just forget me, Malfoy."

He turned to leave, decided footsteps into the dark hall and away from the eerie brand of fascination Malfoy exerted over him.

Air faulted him and he found he couldn't choke the lack of it. The tie he had carelessly thrown around his neck was now tightly constricting air entrance, each end of its at either hand of Draco's. Pressure.

"I already hate a lot of things in you, Potter." Lazy drawl. Fear drops in the shape of sweat. "Don't add 'manipulative pig' to the list."

Harry turned around, gasping at his newly returned capacity to have air in his lungs. He quickly stilled and made of his expression a scowl.

It was very hard not to lean against the fingers Draco ran over his jaw, or the cupping of his head.

"Naughty dreams." Butterfly brush of bruised lips. Harry grabbed a handful of Draco's platinum hair, deepening the kiss and plunging his tongue inside warmth. Then Draco was gone, turning on his heels, strolling back to the owlery in scandalous nudity.

On his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry remembered to breathe.

-*-

The arrival of the morning post was ordinarily a loud event. Owl feathers snowing down the tables, the dishes mercifully protected by repelling charms. Cheering, dropping of packages on top of people, whining and the occasional vindictiveness of an unpaid owl completed the merry scene. Amidst the chaos, Harry mechanically batted away a glimpse of whiteness that landed on his arm.

He did, however, dedicate it greater attention when the bird-shaped note started harassing his nose. Secretively, he bent down to "retrieve a spoon" before unfolding the small piece of paper.

Thursday night. Be there, at the expense of a howler the morning after.

Harry's eyes glinted as the small paper creature burned itself to ashes spontaneously. Thursday, right. He and Draco were stuck together for Potions that very afternoon, and he saw no reason for delaying of gratification. Or to let Malfoy make decisions.

-*-
- 1
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The dirt in owl feathers