Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Let Me Be Your Voice	By : Queenie_Mab Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8661 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter, created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers: Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
When he opened his eyes the next morning, he felt more relaxed and well-rested than he had in ages. He’d stowed the Snitch safely away in the mokeskin pouch he wore round his neck and he stretched luxuriously beneath his sheets, his stomach rumbling.

He sat up and pulled his T-shirt and trousers on, before opening his curtains at last, thankful it was the weekend.

The sun shone through the large window opposite his bed. Malfoy was curled up in the window seat, his right hand held out before him as he stared at the ring on his finger. The sun lit his hair, making him look as if he were wearing a halo.

Harry hesitated before climbing out of bed, but Malfoy seemed to sense he was being watched and turned to face Harry, an eyebrow raised.

Harry’s feet found the floor and he stood up. “How are you this morning?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as inept and awkward as he felt.

Malfoy answered with a shrug.

Harry was relieved to see that Malfoy didn’t appear to be angry to be spoken to this morning.

Malfoy turned to face Harry full on, his legs dangling from the window seat, feet a couple of inches from the floor. He pointed to his bed.

Harry turned to look. The bed was piled with scrolls and books, looking as though they were organised by subject.

He turned back to Malfoy. “So, you want me to help, then?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, sighing, but answered with a nod. His lips were firmly pressed together as if he was deliberately trying not to speak, but only just managing it.

Harry looked again at the huge task before him, his head hurting at the prospect of how long it would take him to translate them all, but he reminded himself that he’d given his word.

The rest of their dorm mates were probably having breakfast in the Great Hall.

“You hungry?” Harry asked, feeling his stomach growl angrily.

Malfoy shrugged again.

“Dipsy?” Harry called, hoping that his request for breakfast wouldn’t be too much trouble.

The small elf popped into being with a loud crack, making Malfoy nearly fall out of the window.

“Harry Potter, sir,” Dipsy said, bowing low. “What can Dipsy be doing for you?”

Harry was aware Malfoy was watching his interactions with curiosity.

“Can you bring us something for breakfast? Not a lot, just some muffins would be fine.”

The small elf bobbed his head happily. “Dipsy is glad to be of service to Harry Potter and his friends.” He disappeared with another loud crack. Moments later, Harry saw that a tray laden with muffins and a flagon of pumpkin juice and cups had appeared perched on the top of his trunk.

He grabbed a couple of muffins, poured himself some juice, and took it back to his bed.

“Have some,” he said to Malfoy. “Then I think we should take all this work to the library. I doubt anybody will distract us there.”

Malfoy jumped down from the window, still in his pyjamas, and took a muffin from the tray. He glanced at Harry with a look Harry took to mean, I’m trying to figure you out. Why are you helping me? What do you expect in return?

Harry swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do,” he said simply.

Malfoy frowned, as if he still didn’t quite believe Harry, and returned to the window to eat.

~x~

They had been at it for several hours, Harry painstakingly copying Malfoy’s words into English. On a few occasions, Malfoy had pointed out that Harry has actually been writing in Parseltongue himself, making Harry have to go back and rewrite several inches.

Harry was rather impressed by the quality of Malfoy’s work. He normally just dashed off a half-hearted attempt at his own assignments, but Malfoy seemed to really understand the lessons and had a way with his written words of putting the ideas down so they actually made sense.

“You know,” Harry said. “I’m going to have to do some of my own assignments again after this. My stuff is pants compared to yours.”

Malfoy chuckled. He continued working on their essay for Potions.

“Laugh it up,” Harry shot back. He found he quite enjoyed Malfoy’s company. He hoped that the covert glances he’d caught Malfoy throwing him from the corner of his eye meant that he was at least not bemoaning spending time with Harry.

“Harry?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice said from behind.

They turned to see her approach their table. Her sleeves were rolled up over her elbows as she smiled down at them.

“Hello, Draco,” she said warmly, looking over the piles of scrolls laid out across the table. “It looks like the two of you have your work cut out for you. Professor McGonagall told me you’d found a way to help out, Harry.”

Harry nodded, adding a full stop to the end of a sentence with his quill. “Yeah,” he agreed. “There’s quite a bit to catch up on.”

He noticed Malfoy seemed to be trying to shrink back into the shadows.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to notice too. “Don’t be silly, dear,” she said to Malfoy. “Come on over here and let me see what you’ve been working on.”

Harry picked up one of the scrolls he’d finished with, an essay on warding off dementors that Mrs. Weasley had assigned earlier that week.

She looked it over, confused.

Malfoy huffed, and took it back from her, finding the translated page in the finished pile he’d made for Harry.

Harry grinned. “Well, it’s hard for me to tell the difference,” he said, grinning.

Mrs. Weasley quickly read over the essay. She looked up at Malfoy when she was done. “This is really quite good, Draco,” she said affectionately. “Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do after you’ve passed your NEWTs?”

Malfoy shrugged, shaking his head, his eyes focused on Harry’s hands while he continued to scribble translations.

Mrs. Weasley handed the essay back to Malfoy. “Well, I suggest you have a chat with Professor Slughorn. I think you might consider the publishing industry. He might be able to offer you some suggestions on how you could proceed. Put you in with the right people, you know.”

Malfoy accepted the essay with another shrug. Harry noticed Malfoy seemed to have trouble looking Mrs. Weasley in the eye.

“Well, don’t work all day, you two,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly. “I don’t want to hear you’ve gone all day without eating before tonight’s big party.”

Harry looked up. “Oh, is that tonight?” he asked. He’d completely forgotten about it.

She smiled at him. “You know it is. I want you to keep an eye on Ginny for me. Make sure she doesn’t drink anything she shouldn’t, and be sure she’s back in Gryffindor tower by eleven.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Thanks, Mrs. Weas… er — I mean, Professor.”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze and bustled out of the room.

Malfoy dropped into the chair beside Harry. He put his elbows on the table, his hands in his hair.

Harry turned to look at him. “Not looking forward to the party tonight, I take it?”

Malfoy let the hand nearest Harry fall to the table and turned, giving Harry a sideways look that said: Is it that obvious?

~x~

Later that night, the party was in full swing. Slughorn had been present for the beginning, but claimed he was feeling his age and needed to retire for the night.

The alcohol came out immediately following his departure.

All of the seventh and eighth-year students were crammed into the small common room. They filled the couches, and pouffes. All the chairs had been pulled away from the tables so everybody sat grouped in a large circle.

Harry was on the floor, leaning back against the large armchair that Ron and Hermione had squeezed themselves into. He took the flask of firewhisky that Ron passed him, and drank from it, feeling the burn fill his head and chase away all his cares.

Across from him, Pansy Parkinson and Luna gave each other manicures with their wands. Ginny sat on the floor at Dean’s feet, and Dean sat beside Seamus, who was doing an impersonation of Filch finding the keyhole to his office stuffed full of dungbombs and bubble gum while Lavender laughed hysterically, seated on his other side.

Harry let his eyes flit over the other side of the circle. The Weird Sisters played on the wireless in the background. He saw Malfoy sitting on the floor between Neville and Blaise Zabini, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

Neville was in the chair to Harry’s left and he leaned down to take the flask from Harry’s hand, turning back to answer a question Hannah had asked of him.

Malfoy drank slowly from a flask of his own. Harry noticed that Blaise was ignoring him, acting bored and talking lowly to Millicent on his other side, earning himself a punch in the arm.

“It’s time for a game!” Parvati announced over the din of music and talk.

Padma giggled hysterically at something Michael Corner had said to her. She passed Parvati a flask. “Let’s play something racy!” she offered to her twin. “How about Truth or Dare?”

The suggestion was met by an equal number of hoots of approval and groans.

Seamus clapped his hands, drawing all attention to himself. “Seeing as how I am the party coordinator, I say we play!” He grinned wickedly. “Anybody who chooses to sit out be warned. I will bribe Peeves to follow you around for a week, and don’t think he won’t be up for it. So … Is anybody out?”

When nobody answered, Seamus went on. “Right then. I’ll go first. Ginny, truth or dare?”

Harry watched as Ginny grinned up at Seamus. “Truth,” she said.

Her choice was answered with a cascade of whoops from the watchers.

“Just keep it tame, mate,” Ron put in. “That’s my sister you're talking to.”

Ginny threw a scowl at Ron and looked up to Seamus. “Go on then; ask me anything.”

Seamus grinned wickedly. “If you could blow any bloke in the room, who would it be?”

Ron started to protest until Ginny quelled him with a look. The rest of the room was quiet, waiting to hear who she’d pick.

She looked over each of the boys in the room, a thoughtful look on her face, and turned back to Seamus. “Based on likeliness it’ll happen or based on looks?” she asked.

Seamus pretended to think long and hard until Lavender shrieked: “Looks!”

“Right,” Seamus said. “The masses have spoken.”

Lavender pinched him, giggling. “Don’t you call me masses.”

Ginny exaggerated a sigh. “Then it’s got to be Blaise Zabini,” she said, taking the flask Lavender held out for her and drinking from it.

The game went downhill from there. Harry was relieved to be left alone for the most part and contented himself getting blissfully drunk. He found the dare Neville was given rather amusing, as Neville had to spend the rest of the party wearing Pansy’s bra over his shirt.

Harry felt warm and comfortable, leaning up against the armchair while his head buzzed. And then he heard his name called, followed by hysterical laughing.

“What?” he asked. “Oh fuck. What do I have to do?”

His eyes swam into focus as Pansy Parkinson answered him, leering at him from across the circle. “It’s my turn, Potter, and I’ve just been dared to snog you for a whole minute.”

He watched her hazily as she crawled over to where he was seated. She was clearly trying a sexy cat crawl, but Harry thought she looked more like a pug than ever. He shrugged, thinking a minute couldn’t be so bad, and then he couldn’t breathe as she climbed into his lap and began sucking the air out of his lungs like a Dementor in heat.

He breathed furiously through his nose, trying to stay present, willing the minute to be over, while his mouth was plundered by her invading tongue.

Finally, not soon enough, Ron’s voice called out. “That’s time. Let the man breathe.”

Harry opened his eyes as she finally let him up. Pansy smirked down at him after she climbed to her feet. “Not bad, Potter,” she said coyly, and sashayed back to her place beside Luna as the room roared with laughter.

Harry turned to see what Malfoy was doing when he saw him glaring daggers at Pansy, his lips pressed so tightly together that they were white.

“My turn to choose!” Pansy crowed, grinning madly. She took a drink from the flask Luna passed her, pausing until she was sure all eyes were on her. “Draco!”

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up and the look that crossed his face made Harry feel as if he was actively rising to whatever challenge Pansy was planning to throw at him.

“Truth or Dare?” she asked, giggling.

Malfoy’s expression fell into a mask of disinterested calm, and he held up two fingers, ignoring the fact that she was making fun of his silence.

“Dare?” she asked. “Right then. I dare you to snog Potter for three minutes!”

“What? Wait, hold on!” Ron called out. “Seamus, come on. That’s taking things a bit far, don’t you think?”

Seamus looked as if he’d never heard a more brilliant dare in his life. His face was red and merry from drink. “Hey, if Harry doesn’t protest, it’s all good.”

Ron turned to Harry, evidently expecting him to protest, but Harry was too far gone to think clearly. His eyes were on Malfoy.

He watched Malfoy throw Pansy another look, as if he was telling her he wasn’t a coward with his eyes, and then he turned to face Harry.

Harry heard a few snickers and some whispers, sounding distant, as though they were travelling through a tunnel, but lost his ability to focus on anything else when Malfoy’s grey eyes speared him.

He was rooted to the spot, frozen in place as Malfoy advanced on him, crawling across the floor, more like a panther than Pansy could ever have pulled off.

Before he knew it, Malfoy had crawled into his lap, gripping Harry’s legs firmly between his own lean thighs. Harry felt his eyes flutter shut as Malfoy’s mouth descended on his lips.

His mouth opened immediately to Malfoy’s questing tongue and the rest of the room simply disappeared. All Harry could think was how perfect kissing Draco Malfoy was. It was sloppy and alcohol-fuelled, but Malfoy kissed with an urgency that sent Harry’s mind soaring. Harry’s hands seemed to move of their own accord, reaching for Malfoy’s hips, pulling him closer, grinding up into him. He felt Malfoy’s breath catch when Harry’s erection pressed against his arse, but he redoubled his efforts instead of backing down, devouring Harry’s mouth.

Upon hearing vague noises from the watchers around them, the thought that he was taking things a bit far in front of a room full of people crossed Harry’s mind, but the alcohol slowed his mental processes and anything that felt this good couldn’t be resisted. Chasing Malfoy’s tongue and lips and teeth was all that mattered and the only thing worthwhile in the world. He could happily drown in Malfoy’s slightly sour, whiskey-tainted breath, and he dove in to attempt it.

Three minutes kissing Malfoy passed faster than the minute with Pansy had by far, and when Malfoy finally pulled away, as Harry heard catcalls that their time was up, he felt disorientated and bereft.

His eyes opened to meet Malfoy’s face, seeing the look of confusion there, before it was quickly replaced by an unconcerned expression. Malfoy got to his feet with a regal dignity, and stared down at the watchers, just daring them to say something, but the room seemed to have lost its voice.

Malfoy stalked away, headed for their dormitory, when Hermione broke the silence by clearing her throat. “All right, seventh-years,” she said nervously. “You have fifteen minutes to return to your dormitories.” She rummaged in her beaded handbag as groans of protest filled the room.

Harry was still stunned. He felt like the room was spinning, and could barely register anything that was being said.

“I have bottles of Sobriety Potion for anybody who needs one,” Hermione’s voice broke through the din of his ringing ears.

He turned when he felt eyes on him and met Ron’s face, staring at him white as a ghost, a frown creasing his brow.

Harry picked up a nearly-empty flask of firewhisky and handed it to Ron, watching him take it with a tentative hand. “You’re drunk, right?” Ron asked.

Harry’s head felt heavy on his neck as he nodded. “Pissed,” he said, though the effort of speaking made him realise just how drunk he actually was.

Ron smiled and rolled his eyes, looking relieved. “Just checking,” he said, and finished off the flask.

Harry let himself slump against the side of the chair and watched blearily as the seventh-year students queued up for their potions.

He watched from the corner of his eye, as Blaise Zabini slipped Ginny a note and Ginny’s face flushed scarlet, though all traces of past jealousy were now gone.

He closed his eyes, thinking he might just fall asleep where he was, but then wondered if Malfoy might be waiting to talk to him in their room. He felt a surge of energy at the thought and climbed to his feet, unsteadily supporting himself with the arm of the chair.

He weaved his way through the dispersing crowd of students, passing Neville, who was still wearing Pansy’s bra as he talked to Luna.

“…Gosharks cry can be heard when true lovers kiss for the first time.” Luna’s voice drifted in from a sea of voices as he stumbled to the staircase leading to the dormitory.

He closed the door behind him, thankfully shutting out the sound of the party, and looked up to see that Malfoy had just loosened his school tie. It was draped around his neck, open in the front. His shirt was unbuttoned revealing a smooth expanse of pale skin above the neck of his vest, splotched with a faint flush that spread to his cheeks.

“It was a game,” Harry said without thinking, “and we’re pissed.”

Draco nodded curtly and held up his hand to stop Harry talking.

Harry stopped and stumbled to his bed, sinking down on it and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Let Me Be Your Voice