Every You, Every Me | By : lordoberon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6705 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or claim any part of it. It is solely the property of J K Rowling. I make no money in the writing of this story. |
Sorry it took me so long to update. I've got this one up on ff dot net, too, (if you'd like to leave a review there, no problem) and with that and my Harry/Blaise going on, things get a bit confusing.
This is the chapter where things start to heat up!! And also get a bit plottier...
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EVERY YOU, EVERY ME
An HP fanfic
by lordoberon
CHAPTER 3
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DRACO
It turned out that avoiding Severus Snape was easier than avoiding Potter. Draco didn’t show up for two detentions in a row, knowing Snape’s true motives, and Snape didn’t mention it whatsoever over the course of the week since he’d first skipped detention.
He knew the Potions Master (he would never be the DADA Professor in Draco’s mind) would catch onto him soon, though. After researching for hours in the Restricted Section two nights ago, he’d spent Thursday in a bit of a daze. Perhaps that was why he was letting Blaise Zabini get to him, and why Zabini was so easily insinuating himself into Draco’s group of friends.
What had started as a deal, and a few secretly enjoyable snogs with the handsome dark Slytherin, was turning complicated. It made Draco angry, and he had already lashed out at Zabini twice in one day, only to have the other Slytherin keep his cool exterior. It seemed that as long as Zabini wasn’t being held at wandpoint, he was as cool as a cucumber.
That infuriated Draco even more.
At least Zabini was absent for the moment. Pansy, too. She had been whining at him earlier about him not spending enough time with her, and Draco had promptly marched up to his dormitory, figuring that completing late Transfiguration homework was better than listening to that. Even, yes, on a Friday.
He growled when a familiar spindly figure tipped itself into his bed, and smiled at him.
“Nott! Get out!”
His friend grinned at him, and purposely wrinkled the page of text that Draco was glaring at. “No. Talk to me. I’m bored.”
Draco wanted to hex Nott severely, but he didn’t want another detention with Snape – or anything to do with Snape at all, at the moment. So he resisted that urge and threw his textbook across the room, instead. “I don’t care if you’re bored! Sod off!”
Nott turned over onto his back, still smiling at Draco. “No. Talk to me. How’s the old man? Still kicking it in Azkaban? And your mother?”
Draco sighed, and flopped back onto the bed. He couldn’t talk to Nott about his task for Voldemort, but he could talk to Nott about almost everything else. With his admirers gone, maybe he should take advantage of this time.
But, he was sick of people trying to figure him out at the moment, because everything inside him that he could see and no one else could, was jumbled.
“Will you stop looking at me, Nott? Go find something to do.”
“No. Tell me about Zabini. Is he a good kisser? I never thought you were into him.”
Draco scowled up at the green of his four-poster curtains. “I’m not. But…”
Draco ran his hands through his hair, and laughed at his own stupid situation and confusion. “He is a good kisser. He…” Draco shut his eyes, remembering. “He’s stubborn, and won’t take no for an answer…and he’s good with his tongue…and, I must say he has good taste, to choose me. But we’re not together or anything. We’re just…”
“Using each other. What does he want? And what are you getting out of it, besides some more attention? You haven’t even wanted attention lately. You’ve been quiet. And what’s with all those trips to the library, and the walks alone?”
Draco pushed his thumbs against his eyes, grumbling. He wasn’t going to tell, because frankly, it was no one’s business. And that included Snape. Snape was trying to find out what Draco’s task for the Dark Lord was, suspected it, even, and Draco would bet it wasn’t just because his mother had forced the Unbreakable Vow on Snape. Snape wanted to steal Draco’s glory. And maybe he even knew what Draco’s task was…and wanted to do it himself…or he knew of the dread that it brought swooping down into Draco if he thought about it too much…
He took a deep, shaky breath, and tried not to think of Potter’s luminous eyes, or Voldemort’s gleeful laugh when he gave Draco his assignment, and the way he’d dreamt of them as one person, once, speaking Parseltongue to him in a voice that simultaneously revolted and attracted him…
“Please just leave me alone,” Draco ground out. “I can’t stand it.”
“Can’t stand what?”
“Everything!” Draco sat up, and glared at Nott. “Everything, alright? So just leave!” He grabbed his wand, but now Nott was backing away.
“Alright, alright, Draco. I’ll go. Merlin. Maybe snogging Zabini is just your way of letting off some steam, eh? Keep at it, if it helps. You need it.”
He then slammed the door shut behind him before Draco could hex him.
Draco stood up, and he desperately wanted to start breaking and smashing things. But that would only bring Snape down on him. So he took a deep breath, and decided to go to dinner, instead. Eating would help. Then, he would go to the Room of Requirement, and see if he got any leeway in his plan.
It all went south, though. The moment Draco was done eating, a familiar greasy git appeared in front of him and ordered, “Come with me.”
Sighing, Draco got up and followed his Head of House down into Snape’s office. The man gestured that Draco sit, and when Draco remained standing, he curled his hand around his wand, and Draco was pushed back into the chair with a spell.
Shit. Snape was usually more courteous than that, with Draco. He must be angry, then.
“Draco. How are you today?”
Draco glared sullenly down at the stone of Snape’s office, and refused to answer. He wasn’t going to let Snape get any information from him, and he wasn’t going to be soft just because the man was his godfather and now sworn to protect him. It had taken him weeks to forgive his mother for putting the Unbreakable Vow on Snape – he could take care of himself! – and he remained bitter about it.
“Draco, if you don’t respond, how am I supposed to help you. I swore to your mother I w-“
“I don’t care what you swore!” Draco bellowed. “I’m my own man, I’ve been trusted by him, and you have no option but to trust me, too. Even if my father is in disgrace, and you are honored, it doesn’t give you the right to coddle me.”
Snape leaned closer in his chair, and sent a baleful, dark glare that needled Draco and forced Draco not to look away. The man could be like that, without any spells; it was a power that Draco wished he had, and hated to see in others. Potter had that, too, but in a lighter sort of way – that magnetic thing in his eyes that kept drawing Draco back…
“You are only sixteen years old, Draco. A little bit of help is not unwarranted. I am not trying to get in the way; I am trying to ensure that you get the task done. I know that, however your public claims may seem, this task may be difficult to bear-”
“It isn’t,” Draco snapped. Apparently Snape knew what his task for Voldemort was. He tried to look away from the Potions Master, but Snape slammed his hands down on the table as he stood up, effectively capturing his attention. Snape was dangerous, Draco knew, for what other kind of man would Voldemort trust so thoroughly?
“MALFOY! I will not stand any more of this childish namby-pambying! You will tell me what your plan is to execute your task successfully, or I will forcibly discover it!”
Before the words were completely out of Snape’s mouth, Draco felt that familiar sensation. It was cold, but somehow felt similar to the burning in his dreams. Invasive. Unstoppable. It was not physical pain, though. Rather, it felt like some gigantic, terrible force was slipping around in his mind, sifting through his memories and thoughts like a hand through a bowl of seeds…
Potter flashed in his mind, surprised in the moment that Draco had kissed him, then there was Zabini, laughing at Draco’s mention of Voldemort’s visit, and then he saw Lucius, broken, pathetic Lucius, as he appeared in a photo the Daily Prophet had published next to an article about his arrest…
“NO! GET OUT!! I WON’T LET YOU IN MY MIND!!”
Draco shut his mind firmly in one quick move, and a shot of fire burst from his wand and almost hit the Potions Master, but Snape shielded himself from it and stopped the spell.
Snape’s voice was low and clipped. “I see. Aunty Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency. How was that arranged? Was it because she owed you after crucio-ing you, or because you whined about the Dark Lord using Legilimency on you when he visited?”
“She’s my aunt,” Draco growled, “and she can do whatever she wants. The Dark Lord gives her some amount of freedom, as you yourself get to enjoy here at Hogwarts. I suppose it is too much to ask that my blood relation to her, as her nephew, be acknowledged, and given some respect.”
An ugly grin appeared on Snape’s face. “You won’t get any respect until you earn it, Draco.”
Draco wasn’t going to listen to this tripe anymore. He tucked his wand back into his robes, and turned his back on Snape. He shoved the door open, and was surprised when a resounding “OW!” echoed in the corridor. Who had he hit?
He poked his head around the doorway, wand held out. Potter lay sprawled out on the floor, holding his hand to his head and cringing. Draco scowled. Potter was the last person he wanted to see right now. He was still trying to uphold his promise to Zabini about avoiding the Boy Who Lived, or to at least look like he was. It was in fact going to be impossible at a certain point, because of his task for the Dark Lord…but for now, Potter was better off enjoying himself…before everything went to hell…
And it already was hell, for Draco. After all, through time and circumstance, he had grown overly fond of the stupid, noble Gryffindor, and now he was all wound up in too much – the urge to protect his father from the Dark Lord, and all the lessons of his youth, battled with a secret affection and lust for Potter that he constantly bottled within.
Until that damned kiss. Potter hadn’t even kissed back. But he still wondered dreamily during History of Magic what it would feel like if Potter did…
“Scar hurting, Potter?” Draco drawled.
Potter had gotten up off the floor and was staring at Draco with a mix of hatred and confusion. “No,” he spat “you hit me with the door.”
Snape appeared behind Draco and said, “Potter. You’re late.”
Draco stepped aside begrudgingly as Potter walked into the office, and was about to walk away when Snape grabbed his shirt collar roughly and yanked him back into the office.
“A moment of your time, Draco. We are trying to find out if Potter’s limited intelligence can be honed and used for his protection. Come here.”
“Get off me!” Draco shook Snape’s hand off of him and turned around. He was standing in front of Snape’s desk again, and Potter was sitting on the chair to his left. When Potter saw him standing, he got up, too, as if to say he was just as strong, or just as defiant.
Draco wondered what Potter was thinking. Would he like to murder Draco for the kiss, still? Had he mentioned it to Blaise? (He couldn’t believe he had just called that trickster Blaise, but there it was). Why had he looked confused when Draco saw him in the corridor?
Damn Gryffindor. Just damn him. He looked good when he was angry, his green glare bouncing from Snape to Draco, and burning extra hot for Snape today. Draco wondered why. Perhaps because Draco had been brought into it all. Wasn’t Potter in here for Remedial Potions?
Instead of setting out any potions materials, Snape leaned forward and pressed his hands against his desk. “Draco. I know that you have learned the art of Occlumency well. Currently I am trying to teach this fine art to Potter. His mind is like a sieve, unable to hold anything in. Perhaps you could school him further.”
Draco blanched; his heart pounded. What was Snape saying? He, teach Potter Occlumency? He didn’t know how, first of all. And he hated the way his hands were getting sweaty at the thought of being in repeated close contact with Potter…watching that messy head of hair turn, that beautiful glare, the turn of the full mouth….for every day? Until Potter learned it? Merlin’s balls, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to shout in anger or in joy.
He knew he looked stupid just gawping, but Potter saved him from humiliation. Whipping his wand out, he shouted at Snape, “Wait a bloody minute!! I’m not learning from Malfoy! You’re better than him at it, Dumbledore said you’re expert, and besides, the only reason I haven’t learned is because you haven’t told me what to do! You just attack me!! Just like last year. I don’t know why Dumbledore made us try it again, but I’ll tell him to just quit it.”
Snape sneered at Potter. “Quitting already, Potter? I thought the Chosen One couldn’t quit. In fact, you can’t, unless you get Dumbledore’s permission. I doubt he’ll listen to you though, Potter, because we need you to block the Dark Lord from your mind.”
Horror shot into Draco’s guts and he swallowed back bile. The Dark Lord was in Potter’s head? He could hear Potter’s thoughts all the time? Or could Potter hear his? Merlin…A twisting, ugly feeling was winding all through Draco’s limbs, burning in his belly, and he felt himself shaking. When Snape looked at him though, he pulled himself together. He didn’t want Snape to see that he was, in fact, terrified of the Dark Lord; because then Snape would butt in, and wreck everything…
He wasn’t sure if by ‘wrecking’ he meant, Snape would take Draco’s task from him, or that Snape would force Draco to do his task. Both doing it and not doing it held dread for Draco.
“Draco. I am going to cast Legilimens on you, so Potter can observe. Then I want you to give Potter tips on how he can block Legilimency.”
Without further ado, those black fathomless eyes were staring at Draco. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, as Snape hissed, “Legilimens!”
He was a young boy, riding around on his broom through the Quidditch pitch his father had had built for his fifth birthday…he was eleven, and addressing a dark-haired boy with glasses and shocking green eyes in Madam Malkin’s…he was watching his mother cry, secretly, after his father was taken away…he was alone on his bed, and woke up tangled in his sheets, green, green eyes emblazoned in his mind…
“STOP.”
He shook his head, and Snape was out of his mind. The Potions Master was glaring at him. “That was a sorry excuse for Occlumency, Draco. I thought Bellatrix had taught you better than that.”
At the mention of Bellatrix, Potter was seething. Why? Draco hadn’t seen him quite so angry before. It was a quiet sort of anger though, kept to itself, and one could not see it just by looking at his body; it stormed in his eyes. And Draco didn’t think someone who didn’t watch Potter as much as he did would see it. Deep within was grief and pain in with the anger. It took Draco one second to catch it all, to sense it, and it was like a sweeping blow to his stomach. He could relate to that sadness and anger.
He stared back at Snape, and then shut his eyes and took a deep breath again. He shoved Potter out of his mind, and imagined a white wall in front of him. With each inhale, he imagined that white wall growing, until he was surrounded by four walls. With each exhale, he left behind his emotions – anger, curiosity, sadness, frustration, everything that was whirling in his mind right now.
He imagined that he was staring out at the lake from his Common Room. This always calmed him. Taking that feeling deep inside himself, he filled himself up with it. He pictured the lake, and focused on it, letting the undulating underwater plants, the flash of mermaid hair, the curious fish, watch him and be watched, for a moment.
“I’m ready, Professor,” he breathed quietly. “Go again.”
This time, when Snape said the spell, Draco felt that pressing sensation in his mind, but it could not get through. It could not see anything. He was watching the waters of the lake, he was surrounded by white light, and he was breathing, in and out, in and out…
Snape withdrew. Draco felt it, and opened his eyes. Now the Potions Master was looking at him with approval. It was hard to read on Snape, but it was there. Draco smiled to himself.
“Now teach Potter how to do that.”
Draco cleared his throat, hating that he was felt a tad nervous, and turned slightly towards Potter. “Now, sir?”
Snape was nodding. “Now. And more, if we must. It may take the two of us to get through the cotton in his skull.”
Potter’s glare burned at both of them, and he said quietly, “I’m going to speak to Dumbledore about this.”
Snape sneered. Turning towards Potter reluctantly, Draco asked, “What do you usually do when you try to block Professor Snape?”
He was surprised that such a normal question popped out of his mouth, and it wasn’t snarky. But he felt a little of the calm left from the Occlumency, and the satisfaction that came from having that power. Especially because Potter didn’t have it. Why did he have to teach this to Potter? He finally had something Potter didn’t.
But he remembered the hissing voice of the Dark Lord, and while it was bad enough having it in his nightmares, he couldn’t imagine actually seeing into the Dark Lord’s mind…or having the Dark Lord looking into his again and again.
He had to admit it: he did not want Potter to be subjected to the horrors of the Dark Lord, no matter what he may have said.
But… then why was he currently creating a plan to kidnap Potter and bring him personally to the Dark Lord? Merlin, his head was messed up. He would like to blame his father and mother for that, and Voldemort, who had given him no choice. He loved his parents, woe as he was to say so, and in order to save them from certain death, he had to give Potter to Voldemort.
Potter had opened his mouth stupidly at Draco’s question, and now he closed it, and his brow furrowed in thought. “Well, usually I try to fling up some sort of mental shield – but it’s like trying to cast a non-verbal spell. Nothing happens. I just get…attacked.” He glared at Snape.
Draco nodded. “Okay. What’s your mindset before he casts the spell? Right before?”
Potter bit his lip, and then said reluctantly, “Anger.” He knew it was the wrong answer.
Draco smirked. “Anger. Of course. Well, Potter, anger doesn’t work for Occlumency. It’s better used for the Cruciatus Curse. What you need is calm, or even utter blankness, to make your mind a proper fortress to stick behind. It’s a little like using an unlocking spell, like alohomora, except instead of forcing something open, you’re forcing it closed. It takes a lot of will power. I saw you resist Imperius. Why not this?”
Potter gaped. Snape looked bemused. It felt good to talk to Potter normally. Draco felt a warmth building in him. He hated Potter sometimes, and he was envious of him, but he also wanted him…and wanted to know him. Talking to him like this – and especially when he had the upper hand – felt good. And Potter looked so stupid.
And even stupid like that, Draco wanted to kiss him again. Blast it!
“Um, er, okay,” Potter said. “So…so should I picture a wall around my head or something? Like a shield? Or, um…”
“That’s good. But it would be better if you could control your emotion. That’s key. It’s not about picturing anything, although that can help. You really have to feel…nothing.”
“Easy for you to say,” Potter snarled, “You’re just -“
Snape said silkily, “Potter, if you don’t shut your trap and listen, I will give you a week’s worth of detention. And if you say anything after this, I will speak to Dumbledore about the importance of Occlumency over Quidditch.”
After this warning from Snape, Potter shut up immediately. Draco smiled. Again, he could relate. No matter how many times he lost to Potter, he still, somehow, loved playing Quidditch.
He wiped the smile off his face when Potter looked at him with that hatred and confusion again and said, “Try it.”
Lazily now, Snape waved his wand and drawled, “Legilimens.”
Draco blinked. Snape was good. Usually Legilimency took immense concentration. Only the Dark Lord himself could pull it off so casually. Bellatrix, when she had taught Draco, had always had a look of immense concentration on her face when she cast the spell.
Potter scrunched his body up in this odd way, making his height closer to Draco’s. His eyes were shut tight, and his teeth were biting his lower lip. He looked ridiculous, but Draco didn’t laugh. He didn’t want to break Potter’s concentration. He wanted Potter to succeed.
Snape drew back a few moments later, and sighed loudly. Potter un-scrunched his body, and grumbled. “I felt it was a little better that time.”
Snape murmured, “Marginally, Potter. And you have Draco to thank for that. I’ll have you two in my office twice a week now. I don’t want you practicing alone. You’ll be at each other’s throats in a moment if that were allowed. Now go!”
Potter shuffled out of there so fast, that he bumped Draco’s shoulder on the way out. He glanced back at Draco, who only rubbed his shoulder and winced. He wasn’t going to say anything. He was too angry with himself for liking Potter, and with Blaise, for preventing him from harassing Potter. If he could go back to harassing Potter, then he could go back to pretending he didn’t want to shag Potter against every available wall in Hogwarts.
Potter bit his lip again, and mumbled, “Um, sorry. And er…thanks.”
Draco just shot him a glare and ambled back to Slytherin Common Room.
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BLAISE
Tension was usually something Blaise enjoyed. He enjoyed observing it from the shadows. He had once almost enjoyed seeing Malfoy bother Potter, except for the envy it had brought in him, because he had desired to have Malfoy’s attention for himself.
Now, tension was within him and without. He noticed it in Malfoy that night, and decided to keep away and observe from afar. Again Malfoy got up in the late night as Blaise read a book, and again took some potion. How much sleep did he get, anyway?
Blaise wanted to know what had Malfoy so tense. He hadn’t said a word to Blaise all day the next day, so finally, after classes, Blaise slid next to Malfoy on the window seat in the Common Room. He didn’t look at Malfoy or say anything, he just sat. Aggressive tactics worked with Malfoy, but it was hard to tell what mood Malfoy was going to be in, whether he would be seduced or not, and whether he was in the mood for conversation. He was so damn moody lately, too.
So Blaise waited. He hated waiting, but waiting seemed to work. He waited that day, sitting quietly, but Malfoy said nothing. The next day, and the day after that, he didn’t pay as much attention to Malfoy. Malfoy seemed content to ignore their deal, and he seemed preoccupied, too. He was looking over at Potter during meals much more than Blaise liked.
He decided to try another tactic, to suit Malfoy’s god damn moodiness, and be nice. So when he saw Malfoy with his cronies in the Common Room one evening, he sat down. By now they’d gotten used to him. Parkinson protested when Blaise sat next to Malfoy, squeezing between them, but she didn’t make a move to stop him. From a game of Exploding Snap, Nott winked at him. Malfoy saw it, and glared at his friend.
Of all of them, it seemed Nott was the one Malfoy talked to the most. Blaise had seen Nott disappear behind Malfoy’s curtains more than once, and he hoped to god they weren’t together. He hoped they were just talking, and that he couldn’t hear it because of Malfoy’s Imperturbable Charm. Malfoy going for that weaselly little git was almost worse than Malfoy going for Potter.
Blaise squeezed in a little closer to Malfoy, and put his arm around the other’s shoulder. When Malfoy didn’t move away, Blaise smiled. Good. Parkinson was glaring at him, and Malfoy was letting him draw his hand through his hair. This was perfect.
When his fingertips slid down to brush the tender skin at the back of Malfoy’s neck, the blonde shivered. Blaise let his fingers trail up and down, up and down, and at the same time, he cocked his head to look at Bulstrode.
“Millie. How are things?”
The bulky Slytherin girl smiled at him, and putting her fat hands together, she said, “Good. Today, my grandparents ordered me a new cat, after the other one got killed in an accident –“ Blaise rolled his eyes. They all knew that Bulstrode had simply squeezed the cat too hard, possibly on purpose – “And, I got to knock Potter’s Mudblood friend a good one. She was saying things about me.”
Blaise put on a frown. “Really? Well, Mudblood has no right. She thinks she’s so smart, but really she’s probably just a whore. Who knows what she’s doing with Weasley and Potter.”
His fellow Slytherins laughed. Ugh. He couldn’t believe he was wasting his time with this. This was the sort of talk Malfoy regularly engaged in? Gryffindor-bashing and other nonsense? It wasn’t high fun at all, in Blaise’s opinion. He would much rather talk about, well, anything else. Quidditch. Books. Spells. Music. Dancing. Sex. Anything!
Malfoy let out a soft sigh, because Blaise was now squeezing the tense muscles in his shoulder, and it probably felt good. He seemed to ignore the comment against Potter, nor was he inclined to join in.
Crabbe said, “You can’t talk, Zabini. Your mum’s a whore.”
Blaise rolled his eyes. “Yes, we all know that. Tell us something new.”
Nott and the girls laughed, and the two lumps, Crabbe and Goyle, didn’t seem to understand. Blaise had reached his other hand in and was now kneading both of Draco’s shoulders. The blonde had left the world a little, it seemed, for he allowed his head to drop back and another sigh came out of him.
Parkinson was now staring at Blaise and Malfoy. Blaise grinned. Nott winked at him again when Malfoy wasn’t looking, and mouthed, “Friends with benefits?” Blaise shook his head to the right, once, and to prove that this was more than friends – really, it wasn’t even that – he leaned in and gave Malfoy a lick across the ear.
Malfoy bolted up at that, glaring at him, and he tried to leave in a huff, but Blaise followed him out to the corridor, and he heard Parkinson shrieking and Nott saying something behind them, before the door shut.
Malfoy turned to face Blaise. “Do you have to have your hands all over me like that? In front of everyone? I thought you liked your privacy.”
Blaise smirked. “I like my privacy, yes. But with Parkinson in the room, I just had to show her what’s what.”
Malfoy scowled. “I’m not your little toy, Zabini.”
Blaise sighed. “I know. But you won’t talk to me. Not like you talk to Nott.”
Malfoy clenched his fists. “Right, well I’ve known him for years, and you’re just…you’re…you! I can’t talk to you about anything and everything. You said I don’t have friends, but apparently, you don’t know how to make them. All you know is how to be a whore.”
Blaise shoved Malfoy against the wall, and as he kissed Malfoy, hard, again and again, he said, “Maybe…but…you like it…more than…you want to admit.”
Then he was thrusting his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth, and unlike kisses before, this one seemed to melt Malfoy. He had seemed especially tense, liked he really needed it, but Blaise knew he wasn’t just giving in because he was stressed. He liked it, too. His arms wrapped around Blaise’s neck, and he pushed his body against Blaise. His tongue worked against Blaise’s, teasing, pushing, and then pulling away. His breath was hot in Blaise’s mouth, and he didn’t seem to mind Blaise’s hands hard on his hips.
When Blaise moved his hands down, down to grope over that firm, round ass, Malfoy broke the kiss. “You don’t have my permission,” he panted, “to do that.”
Blaise ignored him, and as he licked and sucked a trail down Malfoy’s neck, making Malfoy moan, he kneaded his hands against Malfoy’s ass more. Too bad robes were in the way. He went so far as to pull the cheeks apart, groaning that he was actually doing it, and slipped his finger in the crevice.
Malfoy was gasping now, and his robes were riding up, and he was moaning as Blaise suckled his neck while sliding his finger back and forth.
Then Blaise created a tear in Malfoy’s robes with a flick of his wand, and against the blonde’s protesting, he moved his suckling mouth to more bare skin. It was only a cut in the chest of Malfoy’s robes, but it enabled him to tease hard, pink nipples with his tongue. Then he grinded up against the smaller boy, and pushed his hands in past the robes, and groped Malfoy’s ass.
This time it was bare to his fingers. He used his wand to create a squirt of lube, and coating his fingers with it, he pushed one into Malfoy. At the same time, he was grinding his hard cock against the tent in Malfoy’s robes. His body felt overheated, and languid with lust, except for the tight, excited state of his cock.
Malfoy seemed to like his cock, for he was whimpering as Blaise shoved up against him. His face was flushed, and with every push of Blaise’s fingers into him he was gasping. When Blaise pushed in harder, it earned him a hard groan.
He put a second finger in then, and worked Malfoy hard. The Slytherin was pushing back against the invasion, loving it, being a total fuck toy like he’d said he wasn’t, and Blaise was so hard he thought he might burst. He would come in his trousers any second, were it not for the experience he had in teasing, and how he loved to make people wait.
Then Blaise was on his knees, sticky fingers removed, and his dragged his tongue over the hard arousal that Malfoy was hiding in his robes. The Slytherin was trying to recover his dignity, and attempted a spell to repair his robes, but his wand fell from his shaky fingers, and when Blaise suckled the head of his cock, Malfoy’s hands buried in his hair. He yanked Blaise’s hair hard, cursing, as Blaise slid his tongue down Malfoy’s length.
It was so good to be close to that heat, even if he couldn’t quite taste it yet – couldn’t quite taste the sweat, couldn’t quite lick up the precome. It was good enough having Malfoy’s hard cock against his mouth in some capacity, and those little fingers wrenching his hair, while Malfoy pushed his cock against Blaise while making a sobbing sort of sound. Blaise suspected Malfoy hadn’t been sucked off before. He immediately wanted to give Malfoy the time of his life. But he also didn’t want to be hexed by the moody Slytherin, especially not with his raging erection. He had been spelled while hard before, and sometimes the pressure of magic physically hurt his cock. Not fun.
He moved down to Malfoy’s balls, and all that cloth got in the way too much, and he really wanted to just flip Malfoy’s robes up and suck him. But the corridor wouldn’t be empty for long, it was nearly dinner time. He could only expect Nott to help his little seduction mission so long, too.
So Blaise pulled away, and stood up. He was going to honor Malfoy’s whining and not let people see them all over each other. But meanwhile, his cock was hard, and Malfoy was staring at him with fury written all over his face.
“What?” Blaise snapped.
Malfoy licked his lips. God. Did he have to do that? Blaise wanted to plunge his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth, or more, when he did that. “You,” Malfoy cleared his throat, “What do you think you’re doing? Get back down there.”
Blaise stared at Malfoy for a second, and then laughed. “‘Get back down there’? Well well, Malfoy. Perhaps I’ve got a whore in training, here. Ever heard of wanking it off in the shower? But fine. I’ll go ahead. If anyone shows up, it’s your bloody fault.”
Malfoy laughed along with him, and then he grabbed hold of Blaise’s waist, and pulled Blaise against him. Blaise wasn’t into having Malfoy shove him around anymore than that (at least, not right now, but maybe another time, with chains or something), so he knelt down again quickly.
This time, he only got in a couple licks before Malfoy was tugging his hair and kicking him. Shit, impatient, anyone? But Blaise smirked, because he enjoyed the fact that he was driving Malfoy crazy hot for him. He took two glances down either side of the corridor. Then he was under Malfoy’s robes like a sick prostitute, and he pushed his fingernails so hard against Malfoy’s thighs that they bled. He slid one nail delicately up the hard length Malfoy sported, and then he couldn’t wait any longer.
The blonde made a delicious, fuckable, groaning growl when Blaise’s tongue slicked up his cock. He was suckling the balls next, slow and good, and Malfoy’s noises were loud, and his thighs clenched over Blaise. Mmm. When Blaise suckled slow, tonguing kisses over Malfoy’s cock, the blonde groaned. His hands were yanking Blaise’s hair and his own robes, and he slung one leg over Blaise’s shoulder. For every kiss and bit of tongue, his thigh scraped over Blaise. It was hot and slick with sweat, gliding against Blaise’s cheek. He loved it.
Malfoy had a good cock. He was sizeable, long and hard. His noises were so good. They sent shivers up and down Blaise’s body. His cock was pleading with him, but he ignored it for the feast he was having. He pushed his tongue in the little crevice between Malfoy’s erection and his belly. He slid his teeth gently along the underside, and earned a painful tug and a whimper.
Then he was lapping at Malfoy’s cock, hard and eager, groaning, dripping with his own sweat and saliva and it was so stuffy under the robe. But it was good, because Malfoy was swearing, and whispered, “Blaise,” and then a longer, better, “Blaiiissse!” when Blaise’s tongue touched the head.
He suckled it, fast then slow. Then Malfoy was thrusting into his mouth, fast and hard, so eager. His thighs were hot against Blaise, and he was groaning and making little “Yes” and “mmm” sounds, and then he came, and Blaise drank it. He pulled down his trousers then, freeing himself from Malfoy’s robes. Malfoy watched as Blaise rubbed his cock, and tugged it in long, hard strokes, and came with a sigh.
They heard the bustling of people around the corner then, and Malfoy was trying to cast quick cleaning spells, but considering that he’d just been sucked off delightfully by Blaise, he couldn’t get them all right. Blaise cleaned him up smartly, and the moment Malfoy was free, he ducked back into the Common Room without even a thanks, like the little shit he was.
Blaise pulled himself up to stand and ambled down the corridor. He ran his hands through his hair, having scourgified his body and mouth, and he wondered again, where was the Prefect bathroom with that lovely pool-sized tub?
A body slammed into him, rushing down the corridor, and Blaise suddenly had scraggly black hair in his mouth. He spat it out, and stepped back.
“Potter. What are you doing down here?”
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I'll try to update quicker next time. Next chapter: Someone gets naked!
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