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
- 16
- 17
- 18
As Harry strode away from Flitwick’s office, the Snitch began to flutter actively again, though it couldn’t have come at a worse time. His mind was not in the mood after his talk with Mrs. Weasley, though his body begged to differ.

When he reached the tapestry of the trolls learning to dance ballet, he stopped, wondering if the Room would still work after the fire. He decided to give it a go, needing a place to take care of his problem and retrieve the Snitch; having been on the edge of coming all day made him desperate. He quickly walked to and fro before the stretch of wall, thinking of a private place to wank.

To his relief, the door sprang into being but, before he could enter, the sound of shoes clacking angrily against the flagstone floor made him look up to see who was coming.

Draco Malfoy looked as if he were about to explode with fury. He rushed at Harry, making Harry draw his wand, ready to defend himself, but was surprised when Malfoy moved right past him to the door, throwing it open and storming inside.

Harry cautiously followed, hearing the door click behind him and turn back into a wall.

He looked around. The room was small and dark, lit by a solitary oil lamp on a table standing beside a standard dormitory four-poster bed. The bed was draped with a clean white sheet, free of curtains, and the scent of stale smoke hung in the air.

Malfoy had flung himself onto the bed and was staring up at the ceiling, his face contorted in anger.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, approaching cautiously. He wanted Malfoy to go away and let him get the Snitch out of his arse, but at the same time found he was genuinely concerned by what was troubling Malfoy. “Er … What did Slughorn want to talk to you about?” he asked, knowing he sounded feeble.

Malfoy let out a hoarse laugh. He started spitting his words out, full of vitriol.

“Wanted to know what my plans were for the future. Told me he could put in a good word for me with some Ministry people if I’d like. It was all lip-service. I know he’s only fussed because he’s been forced into it. And then he tried to talk to me about …” Malfoy stopped talking, his face colouring slightly, more than the anger had already coloured it.

Harry felt his embarrassment rise up like a heatwave. It was bad enough having had to talk with Ron’s mum about sex; he couldn’t imagine how unbearable it would be to have Slughorn do it.

He grimaced. “Um, yeah. Mrs. Weasley tried to talk to me about it too.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said, suddenly bleakly serious. He sat up on the bed, his knees bent, and forearms resting on them. “I can’t be this transparent.”

Harry looked at him, confused. “Transparent about what?”

Malfoy’s face paled. He closed his eyes, trying to find his words.

He opened them again, looking helpless and worried. “Look. It’s not an … acceptable lifestyle in my parents’ eyes.”

Harry noticed the pleading lilt to Malfoy’s voice.

“Is this more pure-blood claptrap?” Harry demanded suddenly. “I would think, considering where that line of thinking has got them …”

“No,” Malfoy interjected. “It’s more than that.” He paused a moment. “I’m expected to carry on the family name and to … attempt to salvage some sense of dignity.” He stopped again and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Fuck. I can’t even talk to people any more. There’s no way to pull myself out of this hole.” He sounded desperate and ready to give up. “And that’s… It’s part of why they beat me up.” He opened his eyes again and fixed them on Harry, pleading with him to understand. “I know it was because of this Mark.” He shook his left sleeve absently. “But I think the final straw for them was when I kissed you at the party.”

Harry rounded the bed and sat down at the foot a short distance from Malfoy. “You can talk to me,” he said, determined. “And I can talk for you. It’s not impossible to get through this mess.”

Malfoy fell silent.

Harry watched him, wondering what he could be thinking. The Snitch inside him gave another flutter and nearly made him moan aloud, though he forced himself to keep it in. His eyes focused on the pale neck glowing in the light of the lamp, contrasting with the Slytherin tie.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked after what felt like forever.

Malfoy’s eyes were still fixed on Harry, his stare growing more intense. They were filled with a sort of longing for something, and Harry couldn’t help but press his hand to his groin as his erection throbbed at the sight.

He wanted to kiss the pain from Malfoy’s lips, to take his mouth and silence all the hopeless words. He wanted to put his name on Malfoy’s tongue in place of all the talk about rectifying his family’s name.

“You can sit, you know,” Malfoy said. He scooted back so his back rested against the headboard.

Harry obliged, sitting beside Malfoy on the bed, his legs stretched out before him. The whole situation felt surreal.

Malfoy looked around the room briefly as there wasn’t much to see, then turned to Harry. “What did you need the bed for?” he asked. “Did all the talk about sex make you decide to drop in here for a wank?”

Harry flushed, embarrassed, and the Snitch inside him fluttered again. He closed his eyes a moment.

“Are you feeling all right, Potter?” Malfoy asked. “You’ve looked a bit off all day.”

“I’m fine,” Harry answered, exhaling. “I just — I really need to come.”

When Harry opened his eyes again, Malfoy was watching him with a smirk playing on his lips; his eyes were focused.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Malfoy said, shifting his position so he was sitting up straighter and looking as though he was eager for a show.

Harry’s mouth went dry. “Are you serious?” he asked, hoarsely, giving Malfoy a sideways look. His cock ached beneath his briefs. He bit his lip, as the Snitch bumped his prostate again, swallowing hard to keep silent.

Malfoy shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other, but Harry couldn’t stand not wanking a moment longer. It wasn’t like Malfoy hadn’t seen him come before, and it was just a wank after all.

He sat forwards on his knees, cock screaming against his pants, and wrenched his robes over his head. He bundled them up and used them as a cushion between himself and the headboard, as the room hadn’t provided any blankets or pillows. He took off the mokeskin pouch as an afterthought and placed it on the table beside the lamp.

Aware of Malfoy’s eyes on him, Harry slid his loosened belt out of its buckle and tugged his trousers off. He reclaimed his position beside Malfoy, his back to the headboard, and cupped his still-trapped cock through his briefs, squeezing gently, watching the already sizeable wet spot on the fabric grow larger.

He heard Malfoy’s breath hiss and smiled. It gave him a feeling of power to know Malfoy was being turned on by watching him, and Harry was ready to use it if that was what it would take to get Malfoy to admit to his feelings.

Harry lifted his hips and lowered his briefs, feeling an immense surge of anticipation rush through his body. He kicked off his pants and let his legs fall open to his sides. He was so hard and had put off coming for so long, his balls felt like they were about to fall off.

Beside him, Malfoy had pulled off his ring and was rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, catching Harry’s attention momentarily.

And then Harry looked at his erection, flushed and purpling against his stomach as it strained upwards towards his navel. He took it in hand with a relieved groan, wrapping his fingers around the hot sticky flesh and got straight down to business.

He fucked his fist, watching the head of his cock slipping in and out from beneath his foreskin, leaking precome into his hand and he fucked faster with the added lubrication. His breaths were growing short, legs trembling, and then his hand was pulled off his cock and Malfoy was forcing his tongue into Harry’s mouth, covering Harry’s body with his own.

Harry’s hips snapped upwards at once and he devoured Malfoy’s kisses as if he was starving and wasn’t sure when he’d next get a chance to eat.

They ground and rocked together, feverish in their attempts to climb into each other’s skin and forget the rest of the world existed.

“Want you,” Harry murmured. He took a quick breath and dove back in to capture Malfoy’s lips. All thoughts of Malfoy’s refusal to talk about what they were doing fled as the urge to touch and be touched trumped everything else.

Malfoy’s hands slipped down to Harry’s hips, as Harry pressed up against Malfoy’s arse, his cock chafing at the scratchy wool.

“Me too,” Malfoy gasped into Harry’s mouth, and Harry’s heart took flight when Malfoy’s hand closed around Harry’s length, pulling him closer to the edge.

Harry gripped Malfoy’s hips as their mouths moved in tandem, tasting each other, tongues teasing teeth and gums.

His hands moved upwards, loosening the knot of Malfoy’s Slytherin tie, then working the buttons on his shirt until he couldn’t stand it and just pulled the shirt off over Malfoy’s head.

Malfoy took over then, pushing Harry’s hands away and pulling at Harry’s shirt until Harry lay naked on the bed but for his Gryffindor tie, which Malfoy had left knotted round his neck.

He felt his body radiating with heat as Malfoy pushed his legs apart with his knees. The Snitch nudged his prostate again, making him cry out.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight when he felt Malfoy’s nimble fingers probing at his entrance, but they snapped back open when his neck was pulled forwards, yanked by his tie to meet the mash of Malfoy’s mouth, while Malfoy’s fingers dipped in and out, stretching Harry’s rim.

The grey eyes focused on him as Malfoy stopped kissing and slackened his grip on Harry’s tie, letting him back. His face looked confused.

“You’re already wet,” he panted and froze. “What is that?”

Harry was sure his face was red as a beet, but the ache inside him, the need for closeness emboldened him as he stared bravely back into Malfoy’s eyes.

“You’re a Seeker. Why don’t you catch it, and have a look?”

His mind spun as his cock throbbed heavily against his stomach. His mouth met Malfoy’s again and again in mind-shattering kisses, giving in to Malfoy’s demand to be in charge.

Malfoy yanked on his tie again, making his neck sore as the fabric chafed his skin. He felt his body bear down, expelling the Snitch at last along with Malfoy’s fingers.

Malfoy broke the kiss momentarily, looking down to see what it was he held in his hand.

“You kinky bastard,” he said, and set the Snitch aside. He met Harry’s eyes as he replaced his fingers. “Has it been up there all day?”

Harry could hear the desire in Malfoy’s voice, his cock twitching against his stomach, weeping into his navel.

Malfoy’s grip on Harry’s tie slackened again, letting Harry fall back against the mattress.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, faltering as a surge of pure wow rushed through him as Malfoy stroked him from the inside. “Fuck! Do that again.”

Malfoy sat up, watching his fingers as they were swallowed by Harry’s hole. He pushed them in harder, driving them deeper. His eyes were completely focused on his task, his jaw dropping open in concentration.

Harry couldn’t quite believe the height of pleasure he had reached. If foreplay felt this good, he wondered how much better it would feel to actually experience penetration.

His eyelids were heavy as he watched Malfoy’s face grow pink with desire. He slipped his hand down to stroke his cock, desperate for release.

Malfoy’s eyes snapped to Harry’s, narrowing. His free hand slapped Harry’s away, while the fingers in Harry’s arse gave Harry’s prostate a punishing jab.

“No,” Malfoy hissed. His free hand slipped to his own neck and pulled his loose tie off with a whipping motion.

Harry felt bereft as Malfoy withdrew his other hand and held the tie before Harry, wrapped around his fists tightly as if to steady his arms. Harry trembled, as a shiver of fear raced up his spine.

“Grab the bar with your hands,” Malfoy said, his eyes flicking up to the headboard above Harry’s head.

Harry did as he was asked, wondering what Malfoy’s intentions were, but as long as the promise of sex hung over him, he would do anything Malfoy asked of him.

His hands gripped the cold iron bar of the headboard, his arms angled awkwardly above his head and Malfoy wasted no time wrapping his tie around Harry’s wrists, and fastening him in place with a quick tight knot.

“I will be the one doing the touching,” Malfoy said forcefully, the smirk playful on his lips once more.

Harry watched as Malfoy climbed off the bed backwards, and slipped his belt from its buckle. His eyes were glued to Malfoy as he slowly lowered his trousers, and the sight of Malfoy’s fully erect cock, rising majestically from a soft thatch of shortly-cropped blond curls made Harry’s arse spasm involuntarily.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Harry exclaimed. He let his legs fall open, baring everything to Malfoy. His hands longed to be able to reach out and touch as they held onto the bar over his head for dear life.

Malfoy climbed back onto the bed, Harry watching, enraptured as he used his wand to lube his hand. Malfoy held the wand before his eyes, examining it carefully and then met Harry’s eyes again.

“I know what you’ve done with my wand,” he said, his breath low and heavy. “Did you like it? Did you pretend it was my cock fucking you?”

As he said this, he slicked his cock with sure strokes, and then set the wand down beside the discarded Snitch.

Harry’s eyes grew wide. He swallowed hard, watching, knowing what was coming next.

“I did,” he admitted with a quiet hiss.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Potter, with the real thing,” Malfoy nearly growled. “And you are going to love it.”

Harry nodded again, craning his neck, trying to watch.

Malfoy held Harry’s right knee to the side, positioning himself at Harry’s entrance, his grey eyes focused between Harry’s legs.

Harry felt his arousal soar at the sensation of Malfoy’s cock head dragging up and down the cleft of his arse, teasing his hole. Their eyes met as Malfoy started to breach him.

Harry sucked in his breath at the initial pain, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

Malfoy pushed forwards, working himself inside Harry’s body, inch by inch, pulling back and thrusting in deeper.

Harry commanded himself to not fight his bonds, focusing on relaxing his muscles, allowing Malfoy to come inside, hoping the pleasure he knew was there would come soon. His erection started to flag as he felt the stretch inside him burn.

Malfoy’s expression was hard to read, but Harry could see the undeniable pleasure in his gasping mouth.

Harry cried out as Malfoy pulled his knee close to his body and started stroking his neglected cock in time with his gentle thrusts. He shifted his hips, changing his angle, making Harry shout as he found his prostate.

Harry’s head fell back, his mouth open in a giant O while Malfoy’s hips drove on, now in frenzied thrusts. He groaned in protest when Malfoy released his cock, but his groans grew in their intensity as Malfoy held his hips, pulling Harry down on his cock while thrusting up into him.

Harry wondered if he was about to spontaneously combust, he was so hot and close to coming from the internal stimulation alone.

His hands twitched against the bruising knot of Malfoy’s tie, his arms aching and numb from being in one position for so long, but when he heard Malfoy growl, he forgot his discomfort, distracted by Malfoy’s flushing face.

Malfoy shouted hoarsely, pushing forwards once more, as deep as possible, and then he stilled, his body shuddering.

“Don’t stop,” Harry cried out. “Touch me! Please!”

Malfoy’s eyes found his and he withdrew, ducking down between Harry’s legs.

Harry watched him, his chin on his chest, glasses fogging from perspiration, as Malfoy took his cock into his mouth, guiding it with his hand.

Harry’s eyes rolled back, and then there were fingers in his arse again, massaging his prostate. The combined sensation of the internal stroking and the hot wet mouth sucking around him brought him to the brink of orgasm in record time. He felt it build low in his balls, his hips rising off the mattress, trying to shove his cock further down that talented throat.

He came with a guttural cry, looking down at Malfoy’s face as he swallowed around the cock in his mouth, drinking Harry’s orgasm as if it were the sweetest honey, his nose buried in Harry’s short black curls.

Harry’s breathing was erratic as he slowly came down from the height of his pleasure. He closed his eyes, completely blissed out, as he felt his prick slip wetly from Malfoy’s mouth, and his body dripping with the remnants of Malfoy’s orgasm as the fingers withdrew.

The question of where Malfoy had learned to fuck crossed Harry’s mind, but he pushed it aside, not wanting to own the feelings of jealousy that would surely come with the answer.

The mattress dipped beside him as Malfoy settled himself beside Harry. He opened his eyes a crack, glasses askew on his nose and arms numb and aching.

Malfoy’s expression looked thoughtful as he pointed his wand at Harry’s bound hands and released the knot with a spell.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, slightly fearful that Malfoy was about to withdraw again, and try to pretend their coupling hadn’t meant anything.

He rotated his wrists gingerly, feeling returning to his limbs in a painful burst of pins and needles.

“I don’t want to fight any more,” Malfoy said slowly, eyes locked on Harry’s.

His hand moved forwards to adjust Harry’s glasses properly on his nose.

Harry noticed Malfoy’s eyes had grown wet with emotion, as if he simply couldn’t hold it inside any longer and felt a great swell of relief that whatever it was they had between them was not one-sided.

He turned on his side and rested his hand on Malfoy’s narrow waist. “I think we’ve moved beyond fighting, don’t you?”

Malfoy shook his head slightly, eyes closing with a sigh, a single tear escaping from the corner of one and trailing down his cheek.

“I don’t mean with us,” Malfoy said in clarification. He put his hand on Harry’s waist as well and they held on to each other, basking in the afterglow and touching, as if to try and keep the moment from passing.

“I mean I’m tired of fighting who I am. I’ve been so wrapped up trying to reconcile what I want with what is expected of me, and it’s killing me. I don’t want to do it any more.”

Harry leaned forwards and brushed his lips to Malfoy’s.

He drew back a bit, but their faces remained mere inches apart.

“Then don’t,” Harry offered at last. His fingers moved to trace the fine white lines marring Malfoy’s abdomen where his skin had knitted back together after Harry’s attack. “This is my mark,” Harry said quietly. “I put these scars on you. I don’t ever want to see you hurt like that again.”

Malfoy’s hand rose up to rest over the scar on Harry’s chest, over his heart where the imprint of Slytherin’s locket had burned into his skin. “Who put this here?”

Harry watched Malfoy’s face as he answered, carefully measuring his reaction. “That one was from Voldemort.”

Malfoy flinched at the sound of the name, but didn’t draw his hand away. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ve got one from him too.”

Malfoy’s eyes moved from looking at Harry’s scar to his own hand on top of it, to the finger bare of his ring. He turned, looking around the mattress until he found the ring and picked it up, examining it thoughtfully. He threw it across the room where it disappeared into a corner covered in shadows, and put his hand back on Harry’s chest.

“I don’t need that any more,” he said, his voice low and serious.

Harry wasn’t sure, but Malfoy’s voice seemed to have changed somewhat. It was more honest or open or something. He rested his hand on top of Malfoy’s on his chest, holding it in place. “I want you,” Harry said again, and meant it.

Malfoy smirked, his eyebrow arching sharply, face reflecting a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty. “Potter, I doubt you’d know what to do with me.”

Harry slipped his hand down, searching the sheet underneath him to retrieve the Snitch he could feel wedged beneath his thigh.

He brought it forwards, propping himself up on his elbow, and looked from it to Malfoy. “I have a few ideas,” he said, smirking.

Malfoy’s eyes moved to the Snitch and he grabbed it out of Harry’s hand before Harry could try to hold onto it.

“Where did you get this brilliant little toy? Do you have more like it?”

“It’s a prototype,” Harry explained. “It was designed by Fred before he died. George asked if I would test it. He’s going to open an adult line of products soon. Says that’s what the world needs now.” Harry shrugged.

Malfoy nodded seriously. “He’s absolutely right. This world does need more sex. I’m more than willing to do my part.”

Harry pushed Malfoy onto his back and threw a leg over his legs, draping himself along Malfoy’s chest, watching Malfoy’s eyes widen as a shadow of fear crossed them.

“Hey,” he said, seeing it. “I’m sorry that I scared you earlier. I didn’t mean to turn my anger on you. It’s just … There’s still so much hate everywhere. I really wanted to be able to just talk to you like this, without anything coming between us, and I was upset that you were pretending like this,” he waved his hand between their bodies, “this thing between us, didn’t exist. It hurt my feelings when we had sex the first time and you wouldn’t look at me or even acknowledge me after.”

Malfoy’s hand brought the Snitch closer to his face, looking at it rather than at Harry as he answered.

“I’m confused, Potter,” he said. “I haven’t wanted to accept the fact that I am gay, and I’ve been actively trying to deny it for years. Do you know how hard it is to live in denial when the boy of your dreams is suddenly the only person who can understand anything you say? That you’re completely at his mercy?”

He looked back at Harry and changed the subject. “So, the great Harry Potter is also a fantastically great bottom?”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. He’d read the magazine articles in the Muggle rag he had and the one George had sent, but they seemed to refer to the top and bottom positions with a bit of an emphasis that the bottom was weaker than the top.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being on top,” Harry said, shrugging. “Actually, all I wanted to do in Charms earlier was to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you until the only thing you could think about was my cock.” He saw Malfoy’s face blanch slightly. “I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to try one of these days.”

“I could use a shower,” Malfoy said, pulling away and sitting up.

“How about a quick trip to the Prefects’ bathroom?” Harry asked, grinning slyly.

Malfoy looked down at the mess leaking all over the sheet beneath Harry’s bum. He jerked his head to the corner of the room, where a shower cubicle had appeared with room for two.

“I think the shower the Room has provided will suffice,” Malfoy said. “Besides, you’re leaking all over the place.”
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Let Me Be Your Voice