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A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! It's getting me really pumped for this story.
And now, the smut begins! Consider this your blanket lemon warning for the rest of the fic. There won't be smut in absolutely every chapter from here on out, but it will be pretty damn close to that.
Also note that there is a brief but fairly graphic M/F sex fantasy in the first half of this chapter. I know it's not everybody's thing so feel free to skim it if you like, but it's important to the plot so I included it. After this, though, it's slash all the way, don't worry!
Lesson 3: The Benefits of Eavesdropping
“Draco, are you all right?”
Draco started and turned towards the voice, only to find that Francesca had sat herself beside him. He smiled at her absently.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Your elbow’s nearly in your eggs.”
Draco looked down to see that she was right. Lost in thought, he’d apparently rested his elbow on the table and just barely missed his breakfast plate in the process.
“I was just… thinking, I suppose.”
“About what?” the witch asked.
“My… lesson for my 5^th years today,” he lied.
In truth, he’d been thinking about Potter. Or the drinks with Potter. Or really… how he felt after the drinks with Potter, the following day.
In the moment he had been quite relaxed. After Potter ordered them more firewhiskey, the conversation turned back to Hogwarts and the staff, and they’d entertained themselves with some recent gossip before naturally venturing into a discussion on the merits of teaching theory versus practicum, about which Potter was surprisingly opinionated and knowledgeable. Somehow, though Draco couldn’t remember how, exactly, this led into the topic of Quidditch and the school teams, which then led to a heated debate over whether it was the Falcons or the Harpies who were currently the best in the league.
When they’d finished their second drinks they’d walked back up to Hogwarts together and parted ways in the entrance hall after exchanging friendly goodbyes. Draco had gone to bed feeling just slightly tipsy and more content than he had been in a long time.
By the light of morning, though, he started to doubt himself. He’d spent an evening out with Harry Potter of all people, and he’d smiled, and even laughed, and talked about himself, and listened to Potter talk about himself… and remained genuinely interested throughout the whole endeavor.
On top of that he’d… flirted with Potter. At least, he was pretty sure he had. It didn’t seem much like flirting at the time. It had felt natural, and he honestly hadn’t been thinking much about what he was saying. Looking back on it, though, he definitely thought it could be misconstrued that way. He’d blushed, and grinned, and looked away demurely, and let the tone of his voice get all deep and suggestive.
Did he give Potter the false impression that Draco could be interested in him… sexually?
Gods, he hoped not. That would be utterly humiliating.
He’d only managed to calm down once he remembered the way they’d left things that night. There’d been no awkward standing around in the entrance hall, seeing if the night would continue, no wondering if one was going to invite the other back to their quarters. As soon as they entered the castle Potter had clapped him on the shoulder and said, “That was fun, Malfoy. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
And Draco had nodded and said, “Sure. Have a good night.” And that was that. They’d made for separate staircases and returned to each of their rooms alone.
Since then, Potter had certainly been friendly, as he made it clear he would be, greeting Draco most mornings and asking how he was, or stopping by his classroom if he was passing and Draco had a free period. But Potter didn’t appear to be attempting anything untoward. He was just being Potter.
Draco shook himself and reminded himself to stop being so paranoid. He had better things to do, like pay attention to Francesca, who was in the middle of saying something about the Slytherin Quidditch team. He latched onto enough words to glean that they’d finally found a new Seeker.
“Took long enough,” Draco remarked. “I was wondering why Flint hadn’t filled the position in the first round of tryouts.”
“He was hoping Gaines would be recovered from his summer injury already,” the brunette told him, picking around in her eggs. “I tried to tell him at the start of term that it wasn’t worth the risk, but he was very stubborn about it.”
“I don’t know Gaines. He’s not doing a Potions NEWT, it seems.”
Francesca shook her head, smirking. “He doesn’t have the… academic aptitude for it, one could say.”
Draco chuckled and saw Francesca’s shapely olive cheeks pink slightly, her smirk melting into a small smile. He was reminded forcefully of another interesting piece of information he’d learned while out with Potter: apparently, the Italian-born pureblood fancied him.
That was the sort of thing he ought to be thinking about, not whether or not he was technically flirting or not flirting with Potter over firewhiskey (it was really just a question of semantics, anyway), but rather what possibilities a connection with Francesca could open up for him.
***
Potter still managed to keep himself fresh in Draco’s thoughts however, as the two of them were talking regularly. Every time they did, whether it was a more in-depth conversation during lunch or a brief bit of small talk in the hallway, the interactions lingered with Draco long afterwards as he replayed them in his head.
I’m just adjusting to having to be around him so much, he told himself. Eventually the idea won’t be so novel anymore and I’ll stop fixating on it.
Yes, that was what would happen. He just needed time. And until then, he would keep his cool and focus on other things.
Easier said than done, naturally. When Potter sought him out that Friday, once classes were finished for the day, Draco suppressed a sigh and wondered what he was in for now.
“Afternoon, Malfoy,” Potter greeted him with a smile.
“Potter,” Draco replied. “What brings you here? Come to drag me along for more drinks so you can talk my ear off about the Harpies again? Still think you can sway my loyalties?”
Potter grinned. “No. I recognize that as a lost cause already. Besides which, this weekend is a full one for me.”
Draco felt his insides deflate a little in disappointment, and then he felt irritated for feeling disappointed. “Oh?”
“Yep. I’ve got patrol tonight, and then tomorrow night I have a date.”
“Ah.” Right, Potter’s fluctuating roster of lovers. He’d nearly forgotten. “Wizard or Muggle, this time?”
“Wizard.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Maybe. He was a Ravenclaw a couple of years below us. Callum Foster?”
Draco searched his memory. “Never heard of him.”
Potter shrugged. “We’ve only been out a couple of times.”
“And what do you do on these dates? You know, besides the obvious.” He smirked, and Potter mirrored him.
“During the school year it’s usually just dinner or drinks. During the summer, it varies. Sometimes it’s live music, or the cinema, or a picnic or something.”
“Picnics?”
“Sure, why not? Who doesn’t enjoy a good picnic?” said Potter lightly. He grinned again. “Besides, you put up strong enough privacy charms, you can get away with a lot, even in a city park in the middle of the afternoon.”
Draco paused, a series of images hurtling across his mind’s eye without his consent. Still, he found himself more amused than anything.
“That’s what’s you’re into, then?” he asked drily. “A little exhibitionism? Or a risk of it?”
Potter shrugged. “I sometimes have partners who are,” he said nonchalantly. “I have partners who are into a lot of different things.”
“And what are you into?” Draco asked, immediately regretting it. He sounded way too curious about Potter’s sex life.
But the Gryffindor just frowned in thought and said, “Making sure my partners are having a good time, I suppose.” His face suddenly split into a wide – and undeniably carnal – smile. “That, and making them beg for me.”
Draco swallowed. And what exactly do you do to make them beg?
No. He was not going to ask that question aloud. Not on his life.
Potter watched him with an arched brow. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked finally.
Draco cleared his throat as delicately as he could and said, “No, you’re not.”
“Some straight men get a little… uneasy around the thought of two men sleeping together.”
“Well, I don’t,” Draco said. “I’m not a homophobe.”
“It wouldn’t make you a homophobe,” Potter pointed out. “It might just be because you’re unfamiliar-“
“It’s not making me uncomfortable, Potter,” Draco interrupted. “I asked, didn’t I? No need to tip-toe around me.”
Potter hesitated, then nodded. “All right.” There was a short but awkward silence, where Potter rubbed the back of his neck and Draco shuffled the papers around on his desk. “Well, anyway,” Potter said finally. “I’m not around for drinks tonight. But I bet there are a number of professors who’d be up for a night out.”
“Mm, I’m sure you’re right.”
“You could ask Francesca. I’m sure she would say yes.”
Draco eyed him. Why did he keep pushing the witch on him? Maybe Francesca had asked him to. Maybe she liked Draco even more than he realized.
“Perhaps,” Draco said neutrally.
Potter chuckled. “All right, all right, I get the message. I’ll back off. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of finding your own dates.”
Draco watched him again, looking for any sign of irony, but Potter seemed sincere.
“I’ll think about it,” he offered. “Although I did just collect an essay from my 3^rd years this afternoon, so I have a fair bit of marking to do.”
“All right.”
“Was there anything else? Did you want to maybe give me advice on my investment portfolio? Or maybe you wanted to suggest what I should have for dinner. Or what color socks I should wear tomorrow.”
Potter chuckled again. “I solemnly vow to leave all that to you and stop prying into your life.”
“A Gryffindor who can take a hint. Who knew?”
“A Slytherin with a sense of humor. What a concept,” Potter riposted, and Draco had to laugh.
They stood there a moment. “Was there anything else, Potter?”
“No,” Potter said sheepishly. “I’ll, uh… leave you to your essays, then.”
“All right. Enjoy your patrol tonight. Are you on the late shift or the early shift?” Nightly teacher duties were always split into two shifts, one that started after dinner and went until two in the morning, and the other that started at two and ended at eight, when the castle was fully awake. It was designed to keep the staff from having to stay up all night and miss too much sleep.
“The late shift, thank Merlin,” Potter replied. “I always prefer staying up late to getting up early.”
“Me too,” Draco agreed. “Although that shift is when you catch the most students sneaking around, as I understand it. So keep a weather eye open for thoughtless pranks and awkward snogging.”
Potter laughed. “Constant vigilance,” he said, which was vaguely familiar to Draco, though he couldn’t place from where. “I’ll see you later, Malfoy.”
“Yeah, see you.”
It wasn’t until Potter was well gone that Draco realized he’d told him to enjoy his patrol, but not his date the next night, which, now that he thought about it, was sort of… odd.
Not that it meant anything, of course.
***
That night, Draco found he couldn’t sleep, even though he’d spent the entire evening marking essays, just like he told Potter he was going to do, until his eyelids were drooping.
He had considered asking Francesca for drinks, he really had. He’d had a fleeting thought about it, at least. But the idea had been… unpalatable, probably because he was so burnt out from a long week.
Yes, that must be it. He would do it next weekend.
He would consider it, at the very least. Maybe.
For Merlin’s sake, he admonished himself. She fancies you. What are you waiting for? An opportunity this good, with someone like her, didn’t come up very often. So why was he dragging his feet, acting like the timid schoolboy? He was a grown man with a healthy libido and plenty of talent for pleasing a lover.
Or, he used to be. His libido, in actuality, had been a bit… defective lately. That was undoubtedly thanks to his ex-wife and the fact that he apparently hadn’t provided her enough sexual satisfaction to stop her from seeking it elsewhere, a failure that, his father assured him, was quite unbefitting of a Malfoy.
He’d love to get some release, even if it was just a nice, leisurely wank alone in the privacy of his bedroom, but for months every time he thought of sex he thought of her, of the sex they used to have, of how good it felt to believe he was pleasing her and how powerful he felt when he believed he had impregnated her.
But they had been false beliefs, and having them ripped away so suddenly, so… painfully, had left him feeling impotent. Quite literally.
I just have to think of something else, someone else, he thought. If he could find a way to disentangle thoughts of sex from thoughts of Astoria, maybe he could actually enjoy sex again.
Just think of a woman, he told himself, completely the opposite of her. Someone dark, curvy, exotic-looking. Francesca actually fit the bill quite nicely.
Perfect. Wanking over Francesca might kickstart a sexual interest in her, and then maybe he would finally get around to asking her out.
He tried to picture her naked as he reached down into his pajama bottoms. As he played with his bollocks and started to stroke his cock into life he imagined the tan skin of her stomach, bare before him, her strong thighs, and full breasts with pert, hard nipples heaving under his touch. And her pussy, with a little tuft of dark pubic hair, the inner lips already glistening for him.
His cock twitched into semi-tumescence, and he smiled. That’s more like it. He groaned as he began to pump it gently and he felt it fill and harden.
Yes, that’s it. Thank Merlin, yes.
Back to the fantasy. What was he going to do to her first? Use his mouth. That’s what he wanted to do. He would make her mewl and cry his name. He would make her come, absolutely gushing for him, and then he would enter her.
“Fuck yes,” he said aloud. It was working. He conjured some lube with his wand so he could start beating off in earnest, enjoying the new slickness on the surface of his sensitive skin.
He imagined putting his mouth to her, right below her bellybutton. Her stomach muscles would be strong under his lips. He would lick, tasting the salt of her skin, teasing at the edge of her most erogenous zone and making her gasp. But he wouldn’t go lower, not yet. She was going to have to beg for that. Instead he would trail upward, dipping his tongue into her navel before traveling higher, up past her ribs to the naked globes of her tits. He’d run his hands along the undersides, where the skin was softest, and then he’d slide his knuckles across a nipple, making her buck under him. He’d do it again, grinning, then pinch until she cried out.
Draco!
“That’s it,” he whispered into the air, the pleasure in his cock building as he stroked and stroked it.
In his mind his mouth had latched on, sucking gently and then licking the hardened nub. All the while his other hand crept down, starting to tease along her pubic hair. He’d thought he’d take the time to go down on her, but now he was thinking he’d hurry this along. He wanted to enter her, feel the strong muscles of her pussy pull him in and embrace him fully.
The smooth belly under his hand bulged a moment, strangely, and Draco paused. What?
Don’t get distracted. Return to Francesca. Think about that wet pussy waiting for you.
Yet in his mind’s eye there was a rounded stomach pressing against him now, and the nipple between his fingers was wet with milk. Francesca’s hair flashed blond, flickering as he tried to reclaim the image of the brunette.
No. No no no no no. Not her.
His erection was flagging, and he pumped it furiously.
Get back to Francesca, where you want to be.
But he couldn’t. He was looming over Astoria again instead, like he had countless times before, waiting to enter her. She was gasping beneath him, her small, pink mouth parted as she stared up at him with pale, blue, innocent eyes. She pushed against him impatiently, and he felt that swollen belly again, carrying his child.
Not yours, remember?
His erection was gone, but the image of her remained, burned onto the backs of his eyelids.
He’d spent too much time worshipping Astoria’s body when they were married, even during her pregnancy. He knew every inch of it. It seemed, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he could never truly imagine anyone else.
He grabbed one of the extra pillows beside him on the bed, put it over his face, and screamed into it.
***
Draco was in a dark mood the next morning. The point of trying to wank was to relax him, yet the failed attempt had the opposite effect, and now he was on edge and annoyed with everyone.
Luckily it was a Saturday, and he could stay well out of the way of most people in the castle. He made a special point of avoiding Francesca, who he couldn’t even look at anymore.
Part of him (the part that sounded vaguely like his father) thought he should be more tenacious with his little problem and face it head on. How better to remove images of Astoria than by replacing them with someone else? If he could spend enough time with Francesca, get to know her, discover all the ways she was undoubtedly wonderful, who was to say he wouldn’t forget all about his ex-wife?
But another part of him (the part that sounded the most like himself) suspected that he wouldn’t be able to follow through. There was a chance that, when the time came, he wouldn’t be able to perform, and that would only pile more humiliation on top of what he’d already experienced. It wasn’t just sex he was worried about either. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to connect, that he wouldn’t be able to meet her where she was, emotionally or physically. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to even try.
And she deserves better than that, said yet another part of him (who sounded vaguely like Potter, annoyingly).
So he avoided her, and Potter, and just about everyone, continuing the marking of his 3^rd year essays and having lunch in his quarters.
He was on the late shift for patrol that night, though, which meant he was expected at dinner and to start walking the corridors promptly at eight. Curfew wasn’t until ten o’clock, but students were certainly capable of getting up to unauthorized activities before then. It was not uncommon for young couples, especially those in inter-house relationships, to try and find a quiet alcove after dinner to get to know each other better.
Luckily the deviant behavior was kept to a minimum that night. Draco was glad, as he found he didn’t actually enjoy docking points or sending students to detention, even if they weren’t Slytherin. It hadn’t been so back in 5^th year, when he was on Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad. But he could readily admit to having quite a mean streak back then, which the war had stamped out of him pretty thoroughly. He eventually learned that cruelty was never a game. He knew firsthand what real cruelty really was.
It had many forms.
It was late and he was thinking longingly of bed. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and it was taking its toll now. He checked his watch and saw that he had only a little over a half hour to go before Sinistra would relieve him. Thank Merlin.
He was just turning down the Defense corridor when he heard something behind him. It was distant, almost inaudible, but it sounded like someone talking.
Could be Filch, he reminded himself. The man still liked to add extra patrols many evenings, and did so with his cat, Mrs. Norris, who he talked to more than he ever talked to other people. But then he heard laughing, and then someone else making a “shhhh” sound, and he knew it wasn’t Filch. The man never laughed.
He walked back the way he had come, toward the noise. He wasn’t far from the entrance to Gryffindor tower, and he suspected that a couple of students were in the process of sneaking out. He withdrew his wand, just in case, but didn’t yet cast Lumos, as that would give him away. He wanted the element of surprise.
“We’re almost there. Keep quiet.” The whisper was clear enough that Draco heard it perfectly. He was close.
He rounded the corner and froze, taking in the sight before him. They weren’t students at all. It was two grown men.
One of them was Harry Potter.
The other was a brunet that Draco didn’t know. He was shorter than Potter by a couple of inches, and thinner. He had a long face and a wide smile that he was directed purely at the Gryffindor, who had his hand clamped around the other wizard’s wrist and was leading him down the corridor.
Draco lurked in the shadows, waiting for them to pass. He knew what he was seeing now. This was the end of Potter’s date. The man with him was likely Callum Foster, the Ravenclaw Potter had mentioned. It appeared that Potter was taking Foster to his quarters, which would of course be near Gryffindor tower, as Potter was their head of house. He was taking his date home for sex.
If only it was that simple for me, Draco thought bitterly. If only he could go out and meet someone who just fancied a shag and nothing more, who wanted sex without the baggage.
And was someone I actually wanted to shag.
Merlin, Draco’s baggage was far too heavy at the moment. It would be nice to set it down for a little while.
Yet still he watched, morbidly curious about Potter’s apparent sexual prowess. Foster certainly seemed infatuated. He kept pinning Potter to the wall and snogging him passionately, at one point narrowly missing toppling over a suit of armor.
“Watch out,” Potter warned him with a hiss, sounding slightly put out. Draco had to suppress a snicker. Foster was quite enthusiastic, almost absurdly so, and Potter appeared to be merely putting up with it rather than enjoying it. But then, Potter had run the risk of taking a date back to Hogwarts, and he didn’t want to get caught. So perhaps he was just being cautious.
“I can’t help it, Harry,” Foster gasped. “I want you.”
Potter chuckled. “I know,” he replied, grabbing the other wizard’s backside and giving it a firm squeeze “Don’t worry. I’ll be pounding that fine arse soon enough, just like I promised.”
Foster moaned, his tongue slipping into Potter’s mouth. They snogged for a minute more while Draco watched, fascinated.
“Let me suck your cock first,” Foster said when their mouths parted. “Please.”
Potter tilted his chin and appeared to be considering the request, as if he wasn’t sure he would grant it.
“Please, Harry,” the other wizard breathed desperately. “I want your cock in my mouth so bad. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
“All night?” Potter said, arching a brow.
“All week,” Foster corrected.
Draco had to bite down on his hand to keep from laughing aloud. Potter was some kind of genius, that much was apparent. How else did he get this wizard so hot and desperate he was begging to give oral sex, not receive it?
In addition to being amused, Draco was also, he had to admit to himself, a bit turned on. Foster’s wanton whore act had the potential to be annoying, but if Draco were in Potter’s shoes, he might find himself enjoying it.
He’s probably rock hard right now in anticipation, Draco speculated, and that idea made Draco rather hard as well, come to think of it.
I really need to get laid, he told himself. Living vicariously through Potter should not be how he got his kicks. Of that he was absolutely certain.
Especially since he was watching something that, as a straight man, shouldn’t have turned him on at all.
Just visual stimulus, he told himself. Two fit people about to make each other come? Anyone would have this reaction.
“Let me do it right here,” Foster was saying now.
“Right here?” Potter’s voice was laced with faux innocence. “Where anyone could catch us?”
Foster nodded fervently. “That’s how bad I want it, Harry. I can’t wait. I’d risk McGonagall seeing us, even, if it meant I got to suck you.”
Draco resisted the urge to snort. Potter had mentioned some of his partners were into exhibitionism. Apparently Foster was one of them.
Potter grabbed Foster’s mousy brown locks in his fingers and pulled, jerking his head back a little. Foster whimpered. Draco couldn’t see his face from that angle, but he guessed he was staring up at Potter pleadingly as Potter looked down at him, his face almost… hard, but also assessing. There was a scorching heat in his eyes, though, that was hard to mistake.
“You want it that bad, eh?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. His mouth tightened a moment. “Then do it,” he said, his tone as hard as the lines of his jaw. “Suck my cock, right here, in the corridor, where anyone can see.” He leaned in, nipping at Foster’s jaw. “Maybe someone will catch us, and they’ll be so turned on at the sight of you swallowing my cock that they’ll have to join in.”
Foster began to unbuckle Potter’s belt, moaning as Potter kept talking.
“Or maybe they’ll be too shy. Maybe they’ll just watch, and touch themselves. Maybe they’ll bring themselves off, making sure they come right when I shoot my load down your throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Foster dropped to his knees, indicating just how much he would like it.
Oh shit, Draco realized. This is really going to happen. He hadn’t thought it actually would. He thought it was a game, a way for Foster to rile them up and get them primed for fucking. He hadn’t thought Potter would actually take this kind of risk.
Apparently, he had thought wrong.
But then, as Foster was fumbling with Potter’s fly and pulling down his jeans, Draco noticed that Potter had his wand in his hand, tucked behind his back. He saw the tip of the wand shimmer, out of Foster’s sight, and understood that Potter was nonverbally putting up some privacy charms after all.
Good, so he wasn’t stupid.
But something was off. Draco could still hear Foster’s heavy breathing and see him pull down Potter’s pants, freeing the straining erection within. If Potter had cast a Silencing Charm and a Notice-Me-Not, Draco shouldn’t be able to see or hear them.
The charms didn’t work, he thought with panic. And I’m about to watch Harry Potter receive a blowjob. He snuck a glance at the sizeable cock in front of Foster’s face and swallowed as he saw the Ravenclaw kiss and then lick the tip, making Potter gasp.
I should not be watching this, he told himself. He was rock hard now, and undeniably curious, but… he shouldn’t. Potter had tried to put up those charms for a reason. He didn’t actually want anyone to see.
Draco forced himself to turn away, but was immediately met with a barrier of magic he didn’t expect. He covered his mouth to stop himself from crying out in surprise.
What in Merlin’s name…? But then it clicked. Potter hadn’t put up charms. He’d put up wards. He’d warded the corridor so no one could pass through this way. Draco could feel the barrier pushing on him, encouraging him to back away.
Smart, Draco thought. Wards were more effective than privacy charms, which could break easily. They did require casting over a larger area, which was why Potter had done the whole corridor. But they were also powerful. They would keep anyone out.
There was one problem now, though. Draco was trapped inside the wards, at least until Potter lifted them. Potter would likely feel it if someone else tried to break through, if he was as good at this kind of magic as he appeared to be. Draco wasn’t about to risk it.
I just have to wait it out. He could do that. He just wouldn’t look. Or listen.
There was panting and groaning behind him, and sounds of licking.
“You love my cock, don’t you?” he heard Potter ask. Draco clenched his teeth and closed his eyes.
I will not look. I absolutely will not look.
Foster moaned, though it was muffled, as if his mouth was full.
Sweet Merlin.
“That’s so good, Callum,” Potter said, his voice dark and hypnotic. “Gods, look how much you can take.”
There was a slurping sound, and Potter groaned.
“Oh, fuck,” he said. “Oh, fuck, yes. That’s it, Callum. Take it all. What a good boy you are.”
Draco turned. He couldn’t help it. He had to know just how good a boy Callum Foster really was.
He stifled a gasp, his hand going automatically to his cock, which had throbbed almost painfully in reaction to what he was seeing.
Potter was fucking Foster’s face, his arse muscles flexing as he moved in and out and his hand gripping Foster’s hair again. He wasn’t going hard, but he was definitely in control. Foster was wide-mouthed and welcoming every thrust, moaning as if this was exactly where he wanted to be, pumping his own cock furiously as he sucked and sucked.
All of that was arousing. All of that would be enough to make Draco come with a few strokes of his erection, just from watching.
But Potter’s face…
Draco had to grab the base of his cock, just in case. Because it was almost too much. Because Potter was… smirking. He was watching his cock disappear over and over inside Foster’s willing mouth while his lips twisted in the cockiest and most erotic smirk Draco had ever seen.
Potter looked like a man who could take anything he wanted. He looked like a man who was used to little twinks like Foster begging to go down on him. He looked like a man who could make his lovers come over and over and keep them crawling back like sex-crazed junkies itching for a fix.
He looked like a god.
Draco wanted to be him. He wanted to feel that powerful.
And there was also a part of him that thought it might be quite fun to be the one on his knees.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” said Potter. “Are you ready, baby? Are you ready to swallow everything I give you?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Foster managed.
Draco licked his lips as he watched Potter’s thrusts slow in pace, as Foster held onto him and loosened his throat even more.
“I’m coming,” Potter announced. “Fuck, I’m coming! Oh, fuck, Callum! Yes!” The smirk was gone, replaced with a mouth gaping in pure bliss.
Draco’s grip on the base of his erection tightened. He refused to come in his pants watching this. He refused to fulfill the prediction Potter had made to Foster at the beginning, about what would happen if someone were really watching. He wouldn’t be that person.
It took a great deal of self-control. Because as Potter was spending himself inside Foster’s mouth, Foster was gripping onto Potter’s arse with one hand and holding firm, swallowing everything. The other hand had abandoned his own erection and was massaging Potter’s bollocks, milking every last drop.
Potter collapsed against the wall. “Gods, Callum,” he breathed. “That was incredible.”
“Glad you liked it,” Foster said demurely, standing. Potter grabbed him by the lapels of his stylish little blazer and kissed him thoroughly, like he wanted to taste himself on Foster’s tongue. One of Potter’s hands brushed Foster’s erection, which still bobbed out in the air, an angry, waiting red.
“You didn’t come,” Potter commented.
“I was waiting,” said Foster. “I want to come with you buried deep in my arse, like you promised.”
Potter chuckled. “You’re going to have to work me up again, you know.”
Foster smiled. “I know. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Come on.” Potter tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped his fly as Foster did the same. He took the Ravenclaw’s hand and walked them down the rest of the corridor, moving swiftly.
Draco felt the wards right behind him lift, but he waited until the sounds of footsteps were distant echoes before he started walking, still making sure to keep his footfalls soft.
He checked his watch. He was due back at the staff room to meet Sinistra, and he hurried himself along.
He was only a few minutes late, thankfully. Sinistra was already outside the staff room door, but she didn’t look as though she’d been waiting long.
“Sorry, lost track of the time,” Draco said.
Sinistra smiled. “That’s a first. Usually we’re counting down the minutes until we can get off shift.”
Draco laughed politely. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Anything I should know?” the witch asked.
“All quiet,” said Draco. “Hopefully it’s the same for you as well.”
“One can only hope,” the woman replied. “Sleep well.”
“I will, thanks.”
They parted ways, Sinistra to begin the patrol and Draco to his quarters.
He moved fast. He was in a bit of a hurry.
“Novus orsa,” he whispered to the brass knocker on his door. It swung open with a creak and he let himself inside, closing and locking it behind him.
Shower or bed? he considered as he quickly began to strip, removing is outer robes (which had successfully hidden his straining erection from Sinistra’s sight, thank Merlin) and then hurriedly started undoing the buttons of his shirt.
Bed, he soon decided. Otherwise he’d have to wait for the water in the shower to heat up, and he didn’t have that kind of time.
He swiftly removed his trousers and pants and, holding his wand in his hand, conjured some lube. It dripped onto the floor a little, but he didn’t care. He had his cock in his hand now, and it was pure pleasure.
His hand still gripping and stroking, he climbed onto his bed. He stayed on his knees, holding onto the headboard for balance, and began to find a rhythm.
It wouldn’t take long, he could already tell. And he had all the material he needed.
Pleasure surged in his cock as he pictured Foster on his knees, expertly swallowing Potter’s large erection. He pumped harder as he remembered the way Potter’s sculpted arse had flexed with each thrust, pushing that cock deep inside. He felt his orgasm build as he remembered Potter’s words.
What a good boy you are. Look how much you can take.
And then he thought of Potter’s face, smirking and smirking, before the pleasure became too much and he cried out, just as the Potter in his mind was doing.
I’m coming. Oh fuck, I’m coming!
Ropes of cum hit the headboard in powerful bursts as Draco imagined he was Potter, emptying himself into Foster’s gaping mouth. The image sustained him as he rode it out, as a hand dropped to his sac and he massaged it, like Foster had done for Potter. There was so much cum, all that had built up, waiting to be released for months. The pleasure went on and on.
When he was finally spent, Draco paused a moment, breathing heavily, looking at his handiwork. Then he started laughing. He’d painted most of his headboard in streaks of white. And he’d done it while thinking about one man giving another a blowjob.
Well, this is interesting. This is very interesting indeed.
***
That Sunday was a day for rumination.
Draco had awoken feeling relaxed and languid, very different from previous mornings. He spent some time in bed simply thinking of the previous night, wondering if he should feel guilty, or horrified, and realizing that he felt neither. He hadn’t intended to stumble upon Potter with one of his paramours, and he certainly hadn’t intended to spy. But… frankly, he was rather glad he had, if only because it gave him the best wank of his life, not to mention an opportunity for release that might not have come otherwise (pun very much intended).
But what did it mean, he had to wonder now. Did it mean he could be interested in men? He had never believed sexuality to be that easy to define. He’d always appreciated beauty, and had gravitated towards socializing with men and women both who were pleasing to the eye. Did that mean he found men equally beautiful to women, enough that he would be content to have sex with either? He wasn’t sure. Mostly because he’d never considered the question. Being a pureblood man meant an obligation to marry a woman and produce an heir. It had been drilled into him so thoroughly that any other option was laughable. And since he’d never had trouble getting it up around a pretty girl before, he’d never questioned it.
Marry a respectable pureblood witch. Keep her satisfied. Produce an heir. That was his directive.
One he’d failed at miserably in every respect. Because he’d failed to produce an heir that was truly his, because he’d failed to keep his wife satisfied, leading her to have an affair.
And she obviously wasn’t all that respectable to begin with, considering she was willing to be adulterous.
For the first time since the divorce, Draco felt a heady sense of freedom in his failure. He’d already fallen about as far as it was possible for a pureblood to fall. What was the harm in shedding pureblood expectations altogether and choosing to be homosexual for a while?
That was, if he really wanted to. He still wasn’t really clear on that.
He had been sexually deprived and desperate for an orgasm when he watched Potter and Foster together. So it was possible that his arousal at watching Foster sucking Potter’s cock had merely been a byproduct of that deprivation and desperation. He had enjoyed himself the most imagining himself in Potter’s position. The idea of such an expert blowjob in itself was appealing. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to have sex with a man.
On the other hand, thoughts of a woman, no matter how different from Astoria, hadn’t managed to get him off after months of trying. But two men together… well…
What if I were in Foster’s position instead? he asked himself. Would I want to suck another man’s cock?
He tried to picture it in his mind’s eye. Kneeling before someone tall and muscular, with a defined abs and a supple arse fit for grabbing onto. Not Potter, he specifically decided. That would just be too… strange. But a man perhaps much like Potter in many respects.
If he were kneeling in front of a man like that, with a hard, naked cock in front of him, would he want to suck on it?
Already half hard, he reached down to his own cock and began stroking himself, thinking about it.
***
It took him a couple of day to decide what he wanted to do about this revelation. But eventually he came to some important conclusions.
He wanted to try sleeping with men. Wanking was all well and good, but there were more satisfying ways to get off. And if he really could enjoy himself getting off with another man, why not do it? Potter had obviously managed to find himself some casual lovers. Why couldn’t Draco?
It was very likely that he could. Only... he didn’t know how to go about doing it. There were gay bars and clubs, and he supposed he could just waltz in and hope for the best, but he knew nothing about that world or what to expect. He knew little about gay sex or what other men were looking for.
He needed an expert, a mentor, a teacher. And, unfortunately, there was only one person in his life who fit the bill.
It took him another couple of days to convince himself that it would be worth approaching Potter about this.
The major obstacle was that it would require explaining himself to Potter, explaining his situation. Potter needed to know that Draco was new to the gay scene, which meant that he would have to explain to him why, at age 25, Draco had suddenly decided to start exploring this aspect of his sexuality. And that meant talking about his divorce and the psychological toll it had taken on him.
There was a chance Potter would laugh him out of the room. And there was no doubt that he would be giving his (former?) rival ammunition to use against him in the future, if he so chose.
On the other hand, Potter had that noble, hero complex thing going on, and there was also a chance that he would be perfectly considerate about it, then introduce Draco to a whole slew of fit men that could keep him satisfied for months.
And that thought made the risk entirely worth it.
He found Potter in his classroom, marking essays. The door was open, and Potter was focused enough that it wasn’t until Draco closed the classroom door and locked it with a flick of his wand that the man even looked up from his desk.
“Malfoy,” he said, offering up a pleasant smile.
Draco didn’t respond. He was too busy formulating what he was going to say. He stepped forward into the room, Potter looking at him silently all the while.
He could see the confusion written all over Potter’s face, but still he waited until he could place both of his hands on Potter’s desk, duck his head, and take a deep breath to speak.
“Astoria and I got divorced because she was sleeping with my best friend behind my back for the entirety of our marriage.” He looked at Potter then to find the brunet staring at him in wide-eyed incredulity. “She was going to keep it from me indefinitely. It seems she was willing to lie to me for the rest of our life together, if she could. But then she gave birth to Blaise’s son instead of mine, and that rather ruined her plans.”
He paused, waiting with morbid curiosity for how Potter would take that.
The man blinked, then took a deep breath. “That’s… pretty fucked up, Malfoy,” he said.
Draco heard a dry laugh escape him, and he bit his lip, though he couldn’t fight off an ironic smile completely. “Yes, Potter,” he said. “It is, in fact, ‘pretty fucked up.’ But that’s not the point. Or perhaps it is, in a way.” He saw Potter tilt his head, waiting for Draco to go on. “The point is, really, that I can’t…” He shifted with discomfort. Why did he think revealing his humiliation like this was a good idea? But he was in it now, and he had no other direction to go but forward. “It appears that Astoria, for the time being, has rather… ruined women for me. I can’t seem to… I have no interest in women, not even gorgeous pureblood Slytherins like Francesca Bianchi, who incidentally I should be drooling over and scooping up for myself as soon as humanly possible. But I… can’t.”
Potter leaned back in his chair, looking at Draco intensely. But at least he wasn’t laughing; that was something. His expression was quite serious. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Malfoy. Maybe you just needed to tell… someone. But… I’m not sure how much I can give you, besides telling you that your ex-wife sounds like a real piece of work, and that she obviously didn’t deserve you. Other than that, it seems like… time… and distance from this are going to be the only things that can really help you. I don’t know what else to say.”
“I don’t need you to say anything specific, Potter. I don’t need you to talk me through this. That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Draco licked his lips. “I want you to help me meet men.”
Potter’s eyes widened once more. Then he blinked, leaned forward in his chair, blinked some more, and leaned back again. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but it took a few seconds for any sound to come out. “Sorry, um… just to be clear,” he said. “You mean ‘meet men’ as in, romantically?”
“Sexually, I mean. For the purposes of sex.”
Potter leaned forward in his chair again. “You’re interested in men?”
“I think I might be,” said Draco. “Signs point to yes.” He wasn’t about to tell Potter what he’d witnessed on Saturday night, or what he’d done about it afterwards when he got back to his rooms. “I definitely… well, I can’t say for sure, as I’ve never been with a man, but I think I could really enjoy it. It would be different, and that’s what I need right now. I need sex, and I need it to not even remotely remind me of my ex-wife. Do you think you can help me?”
“You’re looking for a casual fuck,” Potter summarized. “With a man.”
“Yes. But I don’t know how to go about picking up men, and given that you seem to be the expert-“
Potter started laughing. He put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands and laughed as though it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Draco felt himself tensing, shutting down. He had hoped Potter wouldn’t be petty enough to react this way, but apparently he’d been wrong. He was about to snap at Potter to forget it and leave quickly when the brunet spoke.
“Sorry,” he huffed, getting control of himself. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing because… all right… well… maybe I’m laughing at you a little.” Draco made a move to go, but paused when Potter spoke again. “But only because the idea that you would need my help…” He chuckled some more, then met Draco’s eyes, finally. “Malfoy, you could walk into any gay club, magic or Muggle, and a dozen men would immediately try to pick you up. I mean… look at you.”
“What are you saying?”
“What am I saying?” Potter repeated. “I’m saying you’re fit. You’re bloody gorgeous. A perfect ten. I’m saying you could snap your fingers and have yourself a casual bed-partner in seconds. You don’t need my help at all. The very idea is… absurd. That’s what I’m saying.”
Draco stared at him, wondering if Potter was mocking him. It seemed like he wasn’t, but he obviously wasn’t keen on helping Draco either. “Fine,” he said, and turned towards the door.
“Malfoy, wait,” said Potter, his tone conciliatory. Draco paused but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Just… come back here for a second.”
Draco turned around slowly. Potter was standing now, his hands in his pockets. They stood before each other, and Draco waited.
“I wasn’t thinking,” Potter went on. “It makes sense that you would… I understand why you wouldn’t want to go out somewhere alone, when you’re not familiar with the place, or the people. Of course you’d want someone to have your back, to give you advice. That makes complete sense.”
Draco hesitated, but finally relaxed. He believed Potter was telling the truth, and not trying to embarrass him.
“You just caught me off guard, is all,” said the Gryffindor. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting… Well, anyway, I meant what I said. You could have any man you wanted. You could take your pick. But I’ll go with you, keep an eye on you, make sure you know what to expect. You’ll easily be able to do the rest. How does that sound?”
Draco only needed a moment to consider. “It sounds like exactly what I’m looking for.”
Annecia89: Glad you’re reading! Draco definitely wants to come out of his shell, it is just taking him a bit to figure out how.
myliewilde: Thanks! Me too! This version of Harry is one I find incredibly sexy so I love writing him.
goddess-of_dragons: Yay, so happy you’re reading this one as well! The roles are reversed in many ways (at least in the sense that Harry is gay in this one and Draco is bi), but it was also important to me that I keep to the inherent nature of each of their characters. It’s a very different outlook on each of them, certainly, but I want to stay true to them.
LadyShire: Thanks! Sadly, the very nature of fanfiction dictates that I can’t make any money from this. I am working on my own original novel so maybe someday if/when it gets published you can buy that one instead :)
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A Secondary Education