Harco Empire | By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment. |
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
(Tying up and forcible masturbation – frottage – manual penetration - public display.)
~~~REDRESS~~~
Peers Room, in Slytherin, was unique. Set up by Salazar and maintained by tradition, once inside the room everyone had equal voice whatever their rank or position outside. In practice, it was the homework room where students could ask anyone about the subjects they were studying and expect a cogent reply. Older students could not brush off the new ones with brusque dismissals. It was one tradition that helped Slytherins become better informed than those of other houses. It was two or three weeks after Marcus and Severus had chatted and the formal quiet of homework had ceased. More of the students, seeing the dismal weather outside, stayed on for the usual drinks and informal club discussions. This was where greenhorns learned how to conduct themselves in a social atmosphere and refresh their political contacts - so useful for exerting influence after they had left the academy. Despite the equality tradition, one end under the bust of Salazar, tended to be inhabited by the mature students and it was considered a mark of honour to be asked to go and sit with them.
Marcus and the others were there as usual, solemnly in discussion. They paused and Marcus looked up.
"Draco, would you be so kind and attend us, please."
Puffed up with pride and with his own sense of self-importance glowing he rose, bowed flamboyantly to the bust of Salazar - more than the tradition demanded - and walked grandly towards that end. Of course, the dramatic action drew people's attention, as Draco had intended, and an expectant hush descended on those present. That piece of theatre played directly into Marcus's hands.
"As your peers we would like to talk to you," Marcus then added offhandedly: "You do accept that we are of course?"
Draco, taken off guard by his pride, replied: "Oh yes, the tradition of equality inside this room is sacrosanct."
Marcus rubbed his hands together in satisfaction: "Please take a seat."
Only when Draco realised that he was sitting alone directly under the effigy of the founder, did he feel any alarm. But it was too late.
Several wands were pointed at him and silencing plus holding charms pronounced. As they rang out a whisper went around the assembly and scraping chairs denoted students facing the bust. More Slytherin students poured in at the door.
"In front of these witnesses here," one of Marcus's colleagues pronounced: "Draconius Abraxas Malfoy has accepted those present as his peers. I ask, in accordance with our traditions, that a court of seven peers be formed to enquire into that person's conduct.
Another colleague, from the other side of the room said quietly: "I propose Marcus Aurelius Flint, to be chief questioner."
There was silence for some seconds whilst Draco squirmed uncomfortably in the hard seat. Someone asked loudly: "Elected?" and a chorus of "AYES" supported her. That allowed others to be proposed and with little dissension six others were elected as the 'court of hearing'.
In deathly silence Marcus rose, cleared his throat, looked at a piece of parchment and started: "Draconius Abraxas Malfoy wilfully refused to comply with the traditions of this house and the requirements of the school governors, that he submit to the regular gauging of his magical potentials. Be this to happen in private or in public." Marcus then looked directly at Draco: "Do you recant or do you remain opposed?"
Draco felt the dumbness charm lifted: "I will not have strangers pawing in my private places. My father has already provided ample evidence of my prowess."
Marcus repeated: "Recant or Submit?"
Draco answered vehemently: "I will not submit." Immediately he felt the dumbness charm return.
"In the presence of seven peers and in front of these witnesses; Draco Abraxas Malfoy has refused to submit. Does any peer have difference with this?"
There was silence. Draco noticed Theodore Nott’s eager countenance, and quailed.
"Therefore in accordance with tradition," Marcus had the ancient book in his hands, and seemed to carefully study various pages before regarding the assembly. "The seven elected peers have the right of redress. Does any peer have difference with this?"
Again, silence. Theodore was rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Marcus shared the book with the other six and after some conferring looked up at Draco: "This Court of Peers pronounces redress. Draco Abraxas Malfoy will be confined within the Ring of Redress for thirteen hours," he peered at a page: "His person showing the cause of offence, and visible to all for ridicule and punishment. Any peer may inflict that punishment to show our disapproval of the offence ... So be it."
Pandemonium broke out as people discussed exactly what was meant. During the muddle, Draco was freed by the seven and taken outside into the passageway where the ancient 'Ring of Redress' was situated. It stood on a plinth in an alcove, wide enough for people to walk around it and clearly visible from the common-room. Most students regarded it as an anachronism left over from harsher days, but still felt awe as they passed it.
"Will you now submit?" he was asked.
Draco hesitated, 'There's little they can do in reality,' he thought: 'That tradition is old and can be challenged. Anyway, Uncle Severus will hear of this charade and stop it. If I give in now 'Malfoy Pride' will be abrogated, and Father will probably mete out a worse punishment than this.' "No, let tradition be upheld."
"Very well, let the redress be enacted ... “
In a very short time Draco's arms and legs had been attached securely inside the ring, his body in the form of an 'X'. There was now a large crowd watching the process.
"LET THE SENTENCE COMMENCE," said the seven in chorus and Marcus leaned forward and opened Draco’s flies; leaving his belt on and drawing the flaps apart like curtains. One of the other seniors produced a pair of scissors and cut the waistband of the blond’s undershorts; opening them out likewise
Draco howled his embarrassment and wriggled. It made no difference, his fair flesh was exposed for anyone to touch and that commenced almost immediately.
After a shocked silence, Theodore was heard: "Well-well, Dray, you've grown a bit since last I played with it. Are you able to come yet?" Mr Nott's hands went straight to the offending target, lightly stroking Draco's genitals with one hand whilst rubbing the inside of his thighs with the other.
Draco shouted obscenities as his dong started to ding. Mesmerised, the audience watched the professional groper exhibit his prowess. Untouched, Draco reached full mast and started to display his wares with a willingness that he had never shown before: "I recant," he shouted: "I submit," he yelled. "Gauge me now and release me."
The molester stopped his hands and looked at Marcus. He looked in the book and the other six were called.
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, your sentence has begun and cannot be stopped until it has run its due course." Marcus snapped the book shut with finality. "And … We have already shown forth the cause of offence."
During the period whilst he was exhibited various students, pretending to be soft-hearted, brought Draco gifts various things to eat or drink, but they always had strings attached, and typically meant that the blond had his private area played in. However, he never came to fruition as Harry had done.
Once the thirteen hours were expired the seven peers reassembled: "Draconius Abraxas Malfoy do you still refuse? Or do you submit to Peer and School authority?"
Draco was tempted to be awkward, but then wondered if they had authority to continue the sentence or alter it for something even more humiliating: "I recant me of my folly."
"Will you willingly submit to public gauging, thus exhibiting that recantation?"
'Circe's calumny' he swore silently: "I will willingly submit to public gauging."
"The Peers court accepts that recantation and imposes its observation daily, until such time that you become a mature student. That maturity will be marked by a full emission whilst you are being gauged."
Draco closed his eyes in resignation and made a calculation based on what he had observed. 'Some months yet, if I'm lucky. Better that than this again'. He felt defeated: "I accept that I must show contrition and plead for leniency."
"The leniency is granted. The sentence will not be imposed whilst you are not resident at Hogwarts."
'A double negative ... Oh ... Wanked at school but not at home, I bet Theo tells Father something different.’ - "I accept."
Once he had been gauged, the undoing was just as painful as the tying up and left Draco with a swollen erection. To gain his dormitory he had to walk nakedly through the whole of Slytherin's domain. Supposed well-wishers lined the way. Most were more interested in feeling his parts than commiserating so he ended up on fire with sexual desire and no real way of expressing it.
~~~ GAUGING ~~~
Draco’s ache did die down eventually a couple of days later, but not before he accidentally was waylaid by some of Harry's group
Seamus had hold of his shoulders and Dean was pointing his wand. "We hear you've had an accident, Malfoy." Harry stared at him through owl-like lenses.
"No I have not," he growled in reply, fumbling for his wand.
"Is this what you are looking for?" asked Harry, brandishing two wands: "Marcus says you have not yet been gauged today. So, we volunteered."
"Merlin! ... Does all the school know?"
"Probably, but we're here now, and we just happen have a gauger with us." Harry brandished said instrument.
Draco sighed and sagged: "Very well, get on with it."
The quartet moved into a nearby classroom. Much to Draco's relief, it was vacant. With little ado, he lay on the table and allowed Seamus to undo his flies. The others parted his clothes to reveal the flaccid flesh and then each in turn caressed him gently, giving him a thrill as his intumescence grew. Harry fumbled the instrument and made erotic comments managing to make Draco feel very fired up. He was measured, each of them had a go. This was not the aggressive attitude he had expected, and usually received from Slytherins. Despite his embarrassment, he could enjoy it for a change and moved pleasurably as they stroked and played. It took much longer, but he was not complaining; even if he could still not reach fruition. Harry was the last to place the gauger and then continued to stroke the hard flesh. Suddenly Draco’s thighs shuddered and he arched his back. Harry nearly lost his grip, not that it mattered, because the blond’s meatus opened and out shot his very first shot of creamy jism.
“Merlin, Potter, that feels good. It’s as though a new door has been opened in my libido.”
“Now you know what it felt like when you did it to me,” the Gryff kept on stroking whilst a shivering Slyth enjoyed the aftershocks.
“You never told us about that, Harry,” Dean accused jokingly.
“Didn’t I? Well it started when I overshot a fireplace in the floo system ……” Harry continued the story, with interjections from a curiously relaxed Draco.
Rather regretfully Draco re-clothed himself afterwards and unaccountably thanked the trio. This discomfited the group, but Harry reached his aplomb first.
"Um ... Malfoy ... Um ... Would you like us to measure you again, sometime? We might trade, measure for measure. Four of us plus Marcus would fulfil the public part of the sentence."
"Merlin! Did he put you up to this?"
"Yes I did," said Slyth appeared from out of the shadows: "The results have been properly recorded. I noted you were stressed out, so I tried to alleviate the pain. Now you’ve proved your maturity by emission, you can be gauged as others are, privately"
"Oh ... Thank you ... I think."
Marcus grinned: "Now you have to look aggrieved and struggle a bit, Draco, when I take you outside. Theo's got wind of the arrangement and is lurking. I've rescued you before they molested you, got the idea?"
"I'm not dense, you know," Draco growled.
Marcus chuckled: "Great, sound just like that when I frogmarch you out ... Ready."
Draco nodded: "Let go of me you great oaf ... I had it all sorted ... Then you barged in ... Now they won't tell me their secret...................."
Marcus disguised his gleeful smile into a grimace and growled even more nastily than Draco had.
Back in the dorm when they were having their usual playtime Dean asked: “Harry, how come Marcus is so amenable?”
“Well, it’s a long story and it’s about Quidditch training, if you can bear it.”
The others came to sit on Harry’s bed, looking eager ……
~~~ TRAINING ~~~
Once his friends were paying attention, Harry started his explanation:
"This happened last year ... ..." he started:
Now he had become used to the goings on at Hogwarts he had proved himself skilful at quidditch he decided that he wanted to see a little more than just Oliver making a show of himself in the showers.
Surprising as it may seem Marcus and Oliver were friends despite being in rival houses. They had been brought up in the same tough neighbourhood and admired anyone who fought for what was right. Aggressive muggles had surrounded them and many times they had defended each other. Being chosen for different houses had not altered the friendship, in fact it seemed to strengthen their bonds. In quidditch their supressed aggression soon became apparent, but they were careful of each other. They admired people who came from difficult backgrounds, if they were not wimps who gave in easily. They also admired quidditch talent - almost to excess - and anyone who showed a determination to overcome obstacles, either physical or mental. Very few of the students could reach their high standards, but they were fair and allowed someone to try out before condemning them.
In that first-year Harry came along, looking lost amongst the magical talent surrounding him. Both took one look and dismissed him as useless. Oliver was quite annoyed when McGonagall foisted Harry onto the team and grumbled about it to Marcus.
"At least try him out, Ollie. He flew circles around that new haughty blond in our house."
"Oh, Alright. I doubt we'll win the cup this year, it looks like another walkover for your team."
Marcus grinned: "I'm not complaining."
Oliver took the insignificant first year out on to the pitch, whilst Marcus watched quietly from the stands. Harry on a broomstick was sheer magic. Easily learning the tactics that Oliver set him. During the first break in training, the pair went to sit with Marcus. Harry glowed with enthusiasm and when Marcus saw a spark of hope in Oliver's eyes he confirmed it with a thumbs-up. Harry's talent improved greatly during the first year and when he proposed in the second year to start some intensive training the two older students invited him to join them. The following few weeks were hell for Harry, the tough pair were merciless, but their assessment of him grew into admiration of his pluck, skill and understanding of tactics.
Came the first game of the second year and Harry was still nervous, he liked Marcus, but knew his opponent would try every trick - clean or dirty - to win.
"It’s a only game, Harry," Oliver said with a grim countenance: "We play it to win, and we play hard - and dirty, where the ref can't see - You know some of the tricks already."
"Yes but last year you said you were knocked out cold on your first game." Nevertheless, Harry grinned fiercely, cracked his knuckles and took off.
Marcus was opposite him growling. Harry scowled back and received a surreptitious wink. The whistle blew and Marcus flew straight at Harry. Harry dipped his broom slightly and caught hold of Marcus's shoe, causing the Slyth to dive forward.
"You're a quick little bastard, aren't you?" said Marcus as he made a recovery roll ending it up by lifting Harry's stick tip into the air.
Harry did a backward somersault, managing to poke Marcus in the back. That set the tone of the match for the two of them. Thus, they both had big blue bruises to show for it.
Later, Marcus and Oliver met: "Your squirt has a lot of balls, Ollie."
"Aye, he has that, Markey. I think I'm retracting my defeatist attitude about the tournament."
"Counting your chickens, are you?"
"He's no chicken, he's one tough rooster."
"We agree on that, but I'm still going to pluck him."
Chuckling, they flew off, not noticing a certain green eyed set of spectacles, peering at them from nearby.
The following morning Marcus received a long envelope. In it was a cockerel’s tail feather plus a note: 'Treasure it, it's the only one you'll get.' Marcus looked along the Gryffindor table; Oliver was not there. However, a tousle-haired youth was - Harry grinned briefly and Marcus gave him a 'so-you-think' look by way of acknowledgement.
Training schedules are difficult things to make at the best of times. This one was more so, Harry had been added to the private one that Marcus and Oliver ordinarily shared. Quite a few were in the almost dark evenings, they were gruelling, but Harry enjoyed them best. Sometimes one of them would be unavailable, so the other two practiced together. One such happening occurred without Oliver, not too long after a Gryff/Slyth 'friendly' trial. Harry had become carried away by his enthusiasm, and had had a few fouls awarded against him. Marcus had committed more but not been penalised.
"How did you get away with them?" Green-eyes asked.
"Into the air and I'll demonstrate," was the terse reply.
Harry took off with Marcus chasing him. A couple of rolls later Harry slid back on to the bristles; a very uncomfortable place to sit. Marcus had come alongside and hooked a foot into Harry's trouser leg.
"You grabbed, Findlay's belt, Harry. That's very visible. My barbed sole is not."
Harry looked down and the minutest hook showed out of Marcus's shoe. He looked again and it was gone. There were other specialist ideas but the most telling was because of Harry's second hand clothes. He was not going to ruin his uniform practicing and copied his two mentors who tended to look extremely scruffy. Harry’s sagged in places and a fast-adroit finger could loosen them without the wearer becoming aware. Marcus demonstrated and told Harry that when he started to play he was in much the same impecunious state. As fast as Harry realised a gap, Marcus had some more hanging out. They had chosen a certain pillar to pretend it was the referee and although Harry was careful to watch his blind side, Marcus was more adroit. Rather like the stage acts by a pickpocket, nothing could be seen until attention was drawn to it. Very slowly Harry had his clothing ventilated, he was perspiring so much that he did not notice until something touched his cock. Marcus was wrong side of the ref, seemingly having both hands on his broomstick. In fact, it was a double projection of just one. The real arm was concealed by their two flowing robes and had allowed Marcus to manipulate the younger boys flesh. Harry tried to pull away, but a few hooks stopped him. He tried a twisting dive and Marcus copied it. A somersault was the answer? Marcus had guessed that that would be next and twisted away, pulling Harry's trousers with him and laughing.
"That's not fair," Harry muttered, "It would be seen."
"No It wouldn't," came the reply, "We're inside the bleachers ... Oh dear ... Your britches were caught on that support. Here let me help you. Oh ... Just a minute ... Look ... I’ve caught the snitch!"
"That’s very extreme, Marcus. Am I allowed to object to the ref?"
"If you like, but it looks like an accident to me."
Harry did look ... He had to agree ... Especially when Marcus looked so concerned and was helping to pick up the contents of Harry's pockets. Nevertheless, the hidden hand was still stroking a now rampant rod.
As Harry humped his new fruition, Oliver appeared to see how they were getting on: "So, you did try on the old Malfoy-Evans trick, after all."
"Malfoy-Evans? Evans was my mother's name. She was muggle born."
"Yes she was, but three generations back, one of your ancestors on her side was not - squibs got made in between, so she lost her pedigree. It happens in many old families but they usually cover it up.
"Fine," Harry was still squirming in after shock. "Who got whom?"
"Your ancestor got mine. I have a very small amount of Malfoy blood still in me," Marcus informed them: "And that wimp of a poseur makes me ashamed to admit it.” Marcus seemed to be wiping something off his hands.
"He's not old enough yet, Markey. I told you so, when you said you were planning it."
“Well I am now,” replied Harry indignantly: “Blondie may be a wimp but his fingers are ace.”
“You mean you let him wank you?”
“Not quite … …” and Harry told them about the Borgin and Burke incident and Draco wanking him in the Astronomy Tower.
"So you did ... Erm ... Sorry Harry, I'm afraid I got carried away ... Erm ... You’re still a bit young you won't report me, will you ... Please?" Marcus let go of Harry's implement quickly, and it subsided.
Harry looked at Oliver, who was minutely shaking his head.
He looked from one red faced friend to the other and noted a bulge in Oliver's trousers: "Um ... That depends."
"Depends on what, Harry?"
"Both of you dropping your trousers and letting me watch whilst you make each other come." Harry expected a refusal. Instead he got laughter.
"We'll go one better than that, Harry," said Marcus: "We'll strip, although not here, and you can watch two older teenagers play properly. You can also have a feel if you like."
"Wow ... Really ... I've heard Ron tell us about catching his older brothers once ... Um ... Fine ... I'll go along with that. Where are we going?"
"We'll show you once we've put our quidditch stuff away."
There was a scurry and ten minutes later, Harry followed the pair to what appeared to be a decayed summerhouse. Inside it proved to be presentable and contained changing facilities and a communal shower.
Oliver closed the door and Marcus magically sealed it. Oliver came over to Harry and stood in front of him.
"Harry, will you undress me please?"
"Um ... Fine ... Can I feel it when I do?"
"I did have that in mind, yes. Why not slip your hand inside now?"
Harry gulped, looked down and saw Oliver's zip handle. With shaking hands, he gripped it and slowly drew it down, revealing a patch of orange underpants with an outline of an upright cock showing through. Harry's tentative fingers stroked it and it convulsed once.
"Oh ... Um ...!" He became aware that his wiener was hard, and that he had not refastened the flies that Marcus had opened. Now it had popped out of its confinement. The other two were staring at it.
"It's almost as big as yours, Ollie."
"That's what I told him, when I gauged him first time, Markey."
"You never told me," Marcus sounded slightly hurt.
"No, it was private knowledge then and still is now."
Harry had become a little more adventurous, and had slipped some fingers inside Oliver's drawers. He touched bare skin and Oliver shivered once. The other fingers had popped the top button. And as Oliver shivered, his trousers started to descend revealing the plump outline of the Gryff captain's balls and then his bare thighs. Harry let go of the pubes and concentrated on the hem of Oliver's tee-shirt. To lift it off the taller boy, Harry had to move closer. So, close in fact that his exposed flesh rubbed against the fabric of Oliver's well filled drawers. Oliver dipped to help in the removal and as he returned, sans upper clothes, Harry felt the pressure of a nearly mature prick rubbing against his own. It was Harry's turn to twitch. This was almost too much. Oliver's silk smooth drawers rubbing against bare skin. Harry stopped, felt for his own tee-shirt and removed it. Oliver and Marcus blinked and nodded. And as Harry leaned back to look at Marcus's reaction; his cock rode up Oliver's front.
"Um ... Markey ... Um ... would you undo my top button please. I feel very hot."
"Are you sure, Harry?"
That goofy grin appeared: "Well you undid the rest, so why not that? I shall need to share the shower whenever we get under it, won't I?"
"I have no argument with that."
By this time, Green-eye’s hand was inside Oliver's underpants and gripping the throbbing flesh. The other lurked behind him awaiting the closeness of Marcus. The Slyth saw it and briefly debated a tease, but his fair-mindedness drove him to move closer. Harry got his handful of manhood and whilst Marcus deliberately fumbled for Harry's top button, Harry's fingers slipped down behind an already loosened belt to find something more to play with. Marcus had been aroused much longer than Oliver, so an amount of lubrication had leaked out. Harry's fingers encountered this and slid around the smooth head. Marcus huffed in recognition and a little more leaked out. Enough for the fingers to coat the mushroom thoroughly. Harry tried to grip what was underneath, but his fingers slipped off as Marcus's energised end retreated and then thrust upwards in a natural movement. Harry now had hold of the stem and squeezed it hard whilst as his own lower garments slid to the floor.
Oliver saw the double movement, and then revealed more of the young flesh. His hands itched to feel the globes behind it. Harry had, by now, levered the elastic of his captain's pants down to fully expose the glowing excitement that had been contained therein. Briefly, that hand followed the elastic around and pushed down. To aid their removal Oliver tensed his muscles, bringing his own pole into contact with Harry's. The Potter hand behind him paused and then gripped, pulling them closer. It was too much for Oliver to withstand, he pulsed some pre-come out, amply providing lubrication and both of his hands crawled around to grip Harry's buttocks. There they encountered cloth, open cloth, with a fumbling hand inside.
Hand gripping the clothing, Oliver enquired of Marcus: "May I help with that?"
"Yes please!" There was a gasp, the faint rattle of a descendant zip and the remaining lower garments slid down. Soon to be followed by Marcus's tee-shirt over his head.
Now Marcus was tempted. Had this been Oliver, that gentleman's virginity would have been in peril - well - if it had not already been surrendered to the same participant a couple of years ago. Although he might have risked it with an older boy, Marcus knew that Harry was still not ready. He looked at Oliver and made an 'O' shape with his mouth and thrust against his friend's fingers. Oliver twigged, placed one hand to protect Harry's innocent crack and moved the other to grip the familiar cock. Only, a set of Potter digits were already there, so Oliver's digits delved downwards and around the corner to stroke a Slyth's brown/pink slit.
Marcus pulled a long face and shook his head. Oliver saw it and stopped the penetrative move. Just then Harry's fingers, wet from lubrication, pinched both mushrooms. Automatically both older boys gasped and pushed inwards. Harry squeaked as he was squashed and, in response, all his muscles went rigid.
"Harry," said Marcus: "I think you should stop now. We're moving into 'big boy games'."
"You mean that you don't want me to play anymore?"
"No. That's not what I meant. We intend to let you see it all if you wish to."
Harry felt a strange feeling inside, he thought he needed to pee and said so.
"Very well, we need to be more comfortable. You get rid of your water whilst we go lie on the bed ... We'll save your place."
Harry found it difficult to pass water whilst he was so hard. When he was finished, the urgency had gone, but the strange feeling had not. His prick was no longer rigid; neither was it relaxed. It was still elongated but now hung down and was the centre of the strange feeling.
He wandered over to the bed. Both older boys were lying there fully displayed with room between them for Harry to sit or lie down. He chose to sit, contemplating the inflated cocks and gripping the red ends simultaneously. Both boys gasped and pushed upwards, lifting their balls to wantonly display their between-legs areas and the pathways to their entrances.
"You must choose which one to play with," quavered a sexily shivering Oliver.
Harry wiped his slimy fingers over two cock-slits and four thighs shivered in delight: "Does that mean I cannot play with the other?" he tempered; trying to evaluate the enjoyment offered.
"No, we'll keep our side of the bargain," replied Marcus, fiercely: "But you may have to wait whilst we build up steam again. We're likely to need some refreshment in between sessions."
"Um ... Fine ... Um ... I've seen Ollie's before, but not hard and showing like this. Occasionally I've glimpsed it sticking out when he thought I was not looking. Now yours is new and different so I'll choose that first."
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