Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Simple Plan	By : ElectricAndroid Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4892 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Simple Plan
- 1
LONG:
A Simple Plan - Harry/Draco

Title: A Simple Plan

Author: Electricandroid

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: H/D L/S

Word count: Long

Warnings: Sex in public, masturbation in public, slight screwiness, foodsex,
fat!harry. yes. fat!harry

AN:For the Foodsmut Challenge at pornish_pixiesI
dusted off one of my earliest attempts at fic for this challenge, a WIP that
had never been completed. Dedicated to dacro because
I know how much she enjoyed my earlier attempt at this plot. Many many thanks
to kaylbunny
for her stupendous beta work. Oh and this is humour and fluff. I wrote humour
and fluff. I feel so very strange.

A Simple Plan

The land was parched, and Malfoy Manor stood in stark relief against the
landscape. Lucius Malfoy sat in his drawing room, porcelain white against the
opulent surrounds. Perusing a newspaper, a look of disdain crossed his face at
yet another mention of that bastard Potter.

That boy would have to pay, would have to pay for humiliating him, his Lord,
and for dragging the world through another war. If not for Potter, Voldemort
would be master, and none of this would occur. Yes, Potter would certainly have
to go.

A half grapefruit sat on the plate before him, taunting him. A legacy from his
sixth year at Hogwarts, a dalliance with Epicureanism which had lead to this
daily torture of half a rancid citrus. The looks of his fellow students had
been enough. He had quickly moved on from that little blunder, the loss of
power over his fellow students had been too much to bear.

Waving his wand, he summoned his son. An idea had wound its way into his
cerebral cortex, and he wanted Draco�s opinion. Unfortunately, Draco was
otherwise occupied at the moment, the paper with the Potter article having come
with some rather artful shots of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Trousers down by his knees,
hand on his cock, he gave his mother, the portrait gallery, two house-elves and
a security troll quite an eyeful of the �pride of the Malfoy�s� as his father�s
spell hit.

Draco stopped, almost hitting the breakfast table, and pulled up his trousers.
Fumbling with the fly, he lifted his eyes to Lucius�s face. Being used more to
reprimands than to compliments, the pained, almost paternal look on his
father�s face struck fear into his heart. It was self-evident, the old loon had
come up with yet another way to curry favor with the Dark Lord. Schooling his
features into the masque which befitted circumstance, he smiled at his father.
The mantra in his head revolved, round and round �Just let it be a simple
plan.� At least the train to Hogwarts was the next day. Really, how much
trouble could Lucius create in a mere twenty four hours?

Following an uneventful ride, Draco made his way onto platform nine and three
quarters. He had assumed that Potter would be there, all sharp angles and
tousled black hair, and those wide, grass-green eyes. Well, Potter was there,
but different.

If only Draco had known, Harry had had a better summer to his usual. Threats
aside, the biweekly visits of Tonks, and Harry�s great amusement at seeing
Petunia faced with a carbon copy of herself on each occasion, had made this
summer more bearable than most. It had been most amusing, and the net result on
the Dursely�s had been a sort of mitigated awe. They left him in his room for
most of the time, only calling him down for meals. He could not leave the
house, but all in all, it had been a more productive summer than most. He felt
almost relaxed.

Not for long though, as he was suddenly smothered by Hermione. Ron followed,
slipped his arms around Hermione, and grinned. Finally. Harry had figured Ron
to be too proud, and Hermione to be too oblivious for them to get together. He
really could do without the floorshow though. Ron and Hermione locked in a
carnal embrace was not his idea of entertainment. Listening to the half hurried
conversation, he got the gist. Apparently this union of soul mates was based
upon a drunken Bill Weasley, a jar of cocoa-butter, and Hermione, who was
either in need of a massage, or gagging for a red-head, depending on who was
doing the telling.

Boarding the train Harry heard cultured tones, as per usual, twisted into a
whine by their owner.

�But Father, the plebeians take this train, people have sat in the seats before
me and they were not Malfoy�s, and mother refused to give me her
comforter because of that deplorable incident yesterday, which was entirely
your fault!�

Narcissa had not approved of the sight of her progeny wafting naked through the
halls.

Ron snickered, �Malfoy needs a quilt for the train, what the hell do you think
we need for 20 minutes in the ferret�s presence, a biohazard suit and booties?�

Harry grinned, Ron�s immersion in muggle culture sure made for some astounding
images, but his mind was elsewhere. Looking at Lucius Malfoy brought back
unpleasant memories, He was so intent that he could just make out the whispered
words �Now son, remember if you�re good this year and don�t make a fuss, I�ll
buy you Mr. Playwizard 1996, and you can keep him in your room all summer�.
Harry hoped to hell that there was a Playwizard line of action figurines out;
the last thing he wished to have in common with Death-Eater-Junior was his
sexuality.

He twisted suddenly, Hermione was poking him and telling him how he did not
look so fragile anymore. A rare smile crossed his features. It was nice not to
be considered the runt of the litter. As for the dearth of chores, and the
packages of food from his friends, the effects were hardly that
noticeable. He pushed to one side the feeling of his trunk, much heavier than
usual. A few weeks of Quidditch ought to set all this to rights.

Now for what Harry deemed to be the most perilous part of this escapade. He
would have to out himself to his friends, and he could just see their
reactions. Well, at least he had hit on a more subtle method than the blatant,
�I am gay, guys.� He just hoped that the latest copy of �Quidditch � Stripped�
would do the trick.

Picking it up, he held it so that the rutting pair would catch a glimpse of the
title. He kept his temper in check until Ron�s hand seemed to be trying to make
it to That-Which-The-Boy-Who-Was-Gay-Would-Rather-Not-Think-Of. Sensing a
certain lack of perception on the part of his friends, he proceeded to wave it
up and down in front of Ron�s nose. For this effort, he got a muffled �Thank
you, mate, it's bleeding hot in here�. Jumping up and down with frustration,
and thrusting the magazine at the courting couple, Harry was nearly at the end
of his tether, when the door was opened.

At first, Harry figured that Lucius Malfoy had hired a pair of security trolls
to guard his pride and joy. Upon further contemplation, he realized that it was
merely Crabbe and Goyle, bigger, if not necessarily better than ever. Pity, his
estimation of both their intelligence, and the intelligence of Malfoy senior
fell a notch. Who in his right mind would leave the scion of his house in the
hands of objects which had managed to rate lower than flobberworms on the
Wizarding Benchmark Tests? After contemplating this for a few seconds, to the
tune of slurping tongues behind, he realized exactly how absurd the Holy
Gryffindor Triumveritate must have appeared. He shoved his finger in the
magazine to bookmark �Wood�s Wood�, and stashed it behind his back.

Malfoy smirked. The lack of shock on Harry�s face was incalculable. The two
stared at each other� and finally Malfoy spoke.

�Had a fulfilling summer, Harry?�

The use of the word �Harry� from the mouth of Malfoy was enough to wrench Ron
and Hermione to consciousness. Of course, their take on the situation was
rather worrying. Harry stood there, flushed, moist, and tousled, with his
finger in a graphic depiction of homosexual pornography. Draco stood in front
of him smirking. Ron started to scream, wail, and rend his hair. Harry covered
his ears. Hermione opened up the textbook for her 5th NEWT, �Magical Beings,
Transformations, Habitats, and Properties� to see if sudden shock could
transform a perfectly normal wizard into a screaming banshee, and if so, would
it be possible to use Ron as her 7th year project.

After about 30 seconds of this tableau, a pained grimace passed across Malfoy�s
face. Harry stood there in shock as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at
Ron. �Quietus,� he said. Ron shut up, but Hermione was too wrapped in her tome
to notice anything until Malfoy turned and said, �Be seeing you, Harry.� She
looked up, swallowed a couple of times, stared at Harry, finit�d the spell on
Ron, and went back to reading.

Ron looked at Harry. Ron looked fearfully at Harry. Eventually Harry got a tiny
bit bored of being gulped at, turned around, sat down, started munching on some
marshmallows, and resumed �Wood�s Wood�. Ron quaked his way towards Hermione.
She jerked her head up. �Oh, Ron, please stop acting like it is such a big
surprise; you must have noticed the way he checks Snape out�. Thirty seconds
later Potter and Weasley were reunited in the bathroom desperately regurgitating
the past 12 hours worth of food. Harry mentally ticked the box marked �Tell Ron
and Hermione in the least traumatic way possible�. Well, he figured, he wasn�t
expecting a much better scenario than that.

A month later, Harry could contemplate his life from a fairly contented
standpoint. Along with ever more regular meals, managing to retain his position
on the Quidditch Team, no thanks to Hooch, and clothes which seemed to almost
fit, he felt that he pretty much had it made. The only clouds marring this
silver lining were the other two thirds of the triptych.

Ron was exceedingly apologetic nowadays, due to Hooch�s treachery at nominating
him as the new Gryffindor captain. In a rather red-faced paroxysm of truth, he
informed Harry that her reasoning was due to the fact that Harry was �starting
to resemble a chocolate-topped-blancmange�, going almost crimson when the words
fell out of his mouth. Since Harry was consuming his third box of Bertie Bott�s
Beans, this slur did not seem to penetrate. In truth, the lack of
responsibility gave him more free time for his other extra curricular
activities.

The walking encyclopedia was really irking him though. Pamphlets on diets,
pamphlets on eating disorders, he was sure he had even seen a pamphlet on
pamphlets somewhere on the ever-growing pile. He was convinced that her
reaction was both offensive and unjustified. Even Ron had the good grace to say
he thought Hooch was off her rocker, and that he would have made a great
captain. Though coming to think about it, the comment about captains being into
strategy more than actual teamwork was not precisely complimentary. His eyes
narrowed as the two of them approached the breakfast table.

�Morning Ron, �Mione�, he said as he looked up from the full English breakfast on
the plate before him.

Hermione looked at Harry, at the plate, and at Harry again. Ron shot a look at
his beloved and surreptitiously inserted a pair of earplugs. This rant looked
like it could possibly equal, if not top that of S. P. E. W.

�Harry James Potter!� she yelled, all possible attempts at subtlety flying out
of the windows. �Look at the state you�re in! No restraint, no discipline! No
wonder Hooch didn�t want you to captain quidditch. I�m surprised you could even
get on a broom after stuffing that trough of grease and lard into your mouth!�

The Great Hall was silent.

Harry was just about to open his mouth and interject a few choice phrases on
how unattractive bookworms should keep their myopic eyes and large noses out of
other people�s business, when a small cough alerted him to the presence of
Malfoy at his shoulder. This should be interesting, he thought.

�Far be it for me to interfere, muggle-born, but isn�t your prowess on a broom
rather lacking? Or maybe innately magical objects just do not respond well to
those of a lesser persuasion. In any case, you have less chance of
understanding what it takes to make a great seeker, than I have of marrying a
female working-class muggle and going to live in Slough.�
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Hermione turned to Harry. �I cannot believe you didn�t stand up for me! You
know that I�m almost completely unable to substantiate myself to Malfoy when he
goes on about brooms and quidditch�. She thumped down onto the bench, tears
welling up in her eyes.

�Hermione, did it ever occur to you that I agree with Malfoy?� murmured Harry
in his most saccharine voice. �I just believe that you should limit the range
of your discussions to those in which you are actually qualified to partake.�
He stabbed the last piece of fried slice with a fork. �In any case, I suggest
you take this as a reminder that not everyone sees the world as you do, and it
might pay if you try and remember that before inflicting your prejudices on
others.� Wiping his mouth, he stood up, smiled at an aghast Hermione, placed a
kiss on her cheek, and wandered out of the Great Hall.

Harry really did love to fly, though he had to admit, up here above all the
other ant like-players, searching for a tiny golden ball, did not exactly
constitute one life�s more energetic pastimes. Looping around, he decided to
put the Firebolt through its paces. It had been behaving rather sluggishly
recently, possibly due to the dissipation of the charms upon it. He made a
mental note to have Professor Flitwick cast an eye over them. Speaking of the
professors, they did not seem to have as much tolerance for him as they once
had. McGonagall had punished him for passing notes in class, while it seemed
that even Professor Sprout was upset at his lack of stamina in repotting
bouncing bulbs.

Of course, the icing on the cake had come from Professor Snape, only that
afternoon: �Potter, I suggest that if you wish to complete that potion without
immersing me, and your devoted followers, in a chemical so corrosive it might
even mar the shiny patina of your halo, you ought to bend over that cauldron as
if your life depended upon it�..�

Due to the timely explosion of Neville�s cauldron, Ron and Hermione, who were
sitting opposite him, only caught �you ought to bend over that cauldron as if
your life depended upon it�. Hermione was still not speaking to him, but the
look of unadulterated terror on Ron�s face and the bug-eyed expression on
Hermione�s, were enough to make Harry panic. He looked around. Yes, the other
students had certainly just heard Professor Snape proposition Harry Potter. He
clutched his head in his hands and groaned.

The students� reactions were varied. Slytherin students stared open mouthed at
the pair. Malfoy went even whiter, and then flushed, his usually blank mask
contorted out of all recognition. The twin boulders on either side of him had
their mouths agape, whilst the Parkinson cow was silently crying and shredding
a stack of pink hearts reading: �Be Mine, Darling Sevvie�.

On the Gryffindor side, different, and yet equally intense reactions were
occurring. Seamus turned green, and regurgitated into his cauldron, causing it
to explode, whilst Neville, already on edge from his recent mishap, fainted
dead away, managing to cause an even greater disaster by adulterating his
highly unstable potion with human hair.

Harry left just as the explosion occurred. He had quidditch practice to attend.

The whistle sounded on the pitch, and Harry made his way down. He figured that
the entire school would know that The-Boy-Who-Lived was inclined towards men by
tea. And speaking of tea, that evil wench Hooch was going on about weight
limits, Firebolts and seekers again. Tuning her out, Harry wandered to the
changing rooms.

The silence as he entered was palpable. It was obvious that the communal
showering experience was going to be rather confusing with a suspected
homosexual in their midst. The problem was, no one had the slightest inkling
which side Harry�s bread was buttered on, so some of the players were backed up
as far against the cruddy grey tiles as they could go, exposing themselves in
all their glory, whilst others had their chests up against the wall in a rather
lewd parody of lust.

Then the moment they had all been dreading occurred. Ron, the only one
unaffected by Harry�s sudden outing, (due to a few long and heartfelt talks �
in which there were explicit and detailed explanations of why Harry did not
find Ron attractive), dropped the soap. The silence was complete, you could
have heard a washcloth drop three rooms over.

Oblivious as always, Harry bent over to pick up the soap. Harry handed the soap
to Ron. Ron thanked Harry. Seamus, staring at this interaction with a look of
dawning horror on his face, suddenly turned off his tap, grabbed his
belongings, and marched out, mumbling under his breath �Get a room already�.
With that comment, some of the tension was broken. Even the rather insensible
Gryffindors could tell that his reaction was a tad extreme.

Looking around at the grinning faces, Harry assured his housemates that even
though he was possibly gay, he did not fancy Professor Snape, nor any one of
them. Some people seemed shocked, some accepted it as natural experimentation,
and some looked distinctly vexed. Only Ron was smiling benignly, as if the
entire thing was exceedingly obvious. It seemed to have slipped his mind that a
month had passed before he could see Harry and the professor in the same room
without urgently requiring fresh air.

During the next quitdditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Harry dawdled
above the pitch, thinking about Malfoy. There was an enigma. He was sure that
up until this year, Malfoy, given the chance to let the entire school know that
he was anything less than a perfect poster boy for the light, would have jumped
at it like a lifeline. Yet he was being, for lack of a better word, nice.

The race was on; standing at 80 points each Gryffindor had just tied with
Slytherin when Harry spotted the snitch. Suddenly, as opposed to the roaring
stadium there had been moments earlier, nothing but silence. There was himself,
Malfoy, and the snitch.

From the stands, it looked like the two boys were flying a complicated
aerobatic display. The twisting, turning, diving, and swerving looked more like
aerial ballet than a race. They seemed perfectly matched, the lithe blonde, and
the stocky brunette. And just as Harry was reaching out, approaching the
snitch, the unthinkable happened.

�Closer, I must get closer� Harry thought, as he inched his way down the shaft
of his broomstick. Without even looking, he could tell that Malfoy was doing
the same, neither of them willing to cede the advantage. The snitch was almost
in his grasp. Thirty feet up, Harry grinned in triumph, only a fraction of an
inch and� the broom, flipped over. He had disturbed the counterbalance of the
broom, and was now falling ass-over-tip towards the ground. He dimly heard a
cheer, and his last thought as he collided with the unforgiving soil was of
Malfoy�s hand encircling the snitch.

The sky was green. Very pale green. And yellow. The texture of the sky was
grainy, like a hundred other hospital rooms around the world, and fine and soft
as a silk bolster. In his disjointed brain, addled by a concussion, and
deprived of stimulus due to his immobilization after shattering three
vertebrae, Harry realized that usually the sky-roof was not yellow in places,
nor did it come with an accompanying pinkish blob, hovering two feet away from
his face. He blinked several times, as the word �glasses� rose through his
cotton wool thoughts. �Glasses� he managed to croak out, closing his eyes. A
noise, some fumbling, a warm lightly scented hand, and when he opened them
again, the world was brought into startling relief.

Malfoy was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Somehow, the pieces of the puzzle didn�t fit. Infirmary people should be
clothed in white and smell of starch. As far as he could recollect, they should
not be blonde, composed, and sitting in such a way that the fiery rays of the
sunset pass through blonde hair, forming a corona. His concussion must be worse
than he had initially thought.

The blonde was smiling at him. Not smirking, not grinning, not scowling. Just
smiling. Harry vaguely recollected something about not winning quidditch, and
Malfoy grabbing the snitch. Strangely enough, with this angel of fire perched
on the side of his bed, smiling in beneficence, it did not seem to matter.

�I finally won�. The countenance of this ephemeral boy was as beautiful as
shattered crystal at this moment.

�I know,� said Harry. �You deserved it. I guess Hooch was right; playing
quidditch is not for the likes of me any longer. I�ll have to leave that to
those of us who don�t overbalance a broom. Hermione was correct, I�m just a
useless lardarse� As it came back to him, Harry was slowly breaking. The
humiliation of falling in front of a stadium of people.

�Are you completely insane?� Strangely enough, the thought of not competing
with Potter was second in his mind. It was not something he would have suspected
when the semester began, but Malfoy was really beginning to like Harry, his
easy going ways and open personality. For the first time, he had an inkling of
how far he was ensnared in his father�s plot. It seemed to be working in ways
hitherto unforeseen.

When Harry did not answer, Malfoy considered his next move carefully. He did
not want to bollocks this up, but he felt he ought to nip this train of thought
in the bud. His eyes lit up as he latched on to the perfect solution.

�Potter, please do not tell me that someone who spent most of his life as an
underfed wretch is taking any heed of those two cretinous females. They only
think you are fat because you were always such a skinny runt. Why don�t you
just get the firebolt rebalanced? All you need is some extra weight on the
tail. It might slow you down a tad, but you would be sure of not repeating
today�s fiasco. I for one am fed up of your precious mishaps eating into my
glory�. He cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

Harry�s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. Even in his drug-cushioned
reality, he knew that this was typical Malfoy. �Malfoy, you know you only want
me like this so that you can keep on winning�. The cynical smile spread.
�Though I have to say you are being very subtle about it for once. I was almost
taken in. If you don�t become a carbon copy of your father, you could have an
excellent acting career.�

Draco�s face crumbled. He had ruined the perfect chance by being himself.
Shouldn�t he have realized with five years experience that dear Mr. Potter does
not react well to Malfoyish wit and word-craft?

Harry�s eyes grew. He had broken the angel, and now it looked like it was going
to cry. He had bollixed up royally.

�Potter, I apologize. I didn�t mean to upset you� Sounds of steps were
approaching, so Malfoy upped the pace. �Look, I�m going to go now, but I would
appreciate it if we could talk once you�re out of here�.

�Madam Pomfrey!� Snape�s grim tones shattered the room.

Draco dashed out, and Harry drifted back into his cotton wool slumber. Neither
was in a position to notice the speculative look on Snape�s face when he saw
his premier student�s book-bag on the floor.

Ron was livid. Hermione had been proven right, in front of not only Harry and
himself, but in front of the entire school. As soon as his star seeker woke up,
he would have to be informed. Yes. Either shape up or get out. He could not
have a liability like Harry on the team, it just was not fair to the other
members of the squad. Toppling over on his broom. You think he�d know enough to
back up when he felt it lurching forward. But no, Harry the hero always has to
give it one last shot. Ron would have preferred Draco to win, than for this
humiliation to have befallen the Gryffindors. He sat on the edge of Harry�s infirmary
bed, seething.

Harry opened his eyes. Ah, red. Yes. This was more like it. The blonde last
night was confusing. But they were going to talk. Harry was going to talk to an
angel. He grinned.

The grin did not go down very well. After the twenty minute tirade
incorporating such themes as, you fat bastard, you idiotic moron, you made me
look stupid in front of Hermione, and I�m glad you�re gay so that I wont be
having you as a brother in law, Harry was broken. Not upset, not disturbed, not
offended, but broken. Through the haze of potions, he realized that he might
have just lost his best friend, and would have to give up his new comfortable
way of life to get him back.

But before he drifted off to sleep, he thought once more about that blonde
angel. He hoped against hope that he if he could not have his best friend back,
that at least he could talk to someone who seemed to like him as he was.

The next day was, unfortunately for Harry, a Sunday. Bidding farewell to Madame
Pomfrey, and her pretty shelves of hallucinogenics, he made his way down to
breakfast. �Well�, he thought to himself, �at least I have two reasons now to
try and curb my nibbling, Ron and that Malfoy bastard.�

A hush fell as he entered the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table seemed to close
ranks like a Roman legion, whilst the other houses either stared or whispered
quietly to themselves. A few of the girls were giggling, a few of the boys were
pointing, and all in all Harry was feeling like he was Exhibit A at a zoo.

The walk towards the Gryffindor table seemed eternal. He knew he had to
apologize to Ron, and Hermione, and at least start to try to get himself under
control. Head bowed, he sat down near Ron.

�Sorry�, he mumbled under his breath, helping himself to an unbuttered slice of
toast. �I�ll try to make it up to you�

Ron was quite peeved off at the apology. He had spent all night composing a
diabolically evil rant designed to shame Harry into curbing his eating, and
here Harry was, removing any need for his carefully crafted monologue. He
seethed quietly in his chair.

�It�s fine�, said Hermione, noting her boyfriend�s distinct lack of acceptance.
�We forgive you, don�t we, Ron. We would hardly be able to call ourselves your
friend if we didn�t accept your mistakes and love you anyways. And I am pleased
to see that you�re finally making an effort to get yourself under control. I
hope that those pamphlets have come in useful�

This sentiment was so self-congratulatory that Harry almost carried phase one
of the diet to a new level. He calmed his retching down and turned his
attention back to the toast, refusing to look at the vast spread before him.
Maybe if he could ignore it, it would go away. He did not notice the appraising
looks he gathered from both Snape and Malfoy as he left.

A few weeks later, Professor Snape was rather stumped. It appeared that Potter
was definitely trying to keep to his diet, he had heard both Granger and the
Weasley boy congratulate him on his effort several times, had noticed a
discernable difference at mealtimes, but it seemed to be having no effect.
Short of smuggling a roasted Hippogriff into his bedroom each night, the
Professor was at a loss as to what could be preventing Harry�s return to his
usual svelte self.

Another aspect that concerned him were the subtle grins that passed between
Draco and Potter. The thought of those two in league over anything was
horrifying, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Lucius might have had some
role to play in the debacle. It was even possible, knowing the unbalanced state
of Voldemort�s mind that the snake had come up with some strange plan to
capture Harry Potter that included regular shipments of chocolate �clairs.
Nothing made one iota of sense!

Snape struggled out of his armchair. Why the students persisted in assuming
that he led the life of an ascetic monk with a persecution complex, he would
never know. What would the fun be in living life on the edge, merely to hole
oneself up in a dank cell and flagellate oneself before bed? His room was
luxuriously, if sparsely appointed, and the few pieces of furniture he chose to
keep on school grounds would not have been out of place in a turn of the
century brothel. Sighing, he closed the door on his haven, and slipped out for
a walk. Maybe the evening air would calm his mind.

Severus�s mutterings could be heard as he paced around the school. However,
enrapt as the boys were in one another, they spared nary a thought for their
surroundings, immersed in epicurean gourmandizing. Severus was lead there by
muffled sounds, by licks and murmurs of heat on flesh. He pushed aside the
underbrush cautiously, not wishing to alert the miscreants. The sight which
greeted his eyes drilled straight to his cock, he could feel the blood pooling
in his groin, could feel it rush away from his fingers, from his toes. Numb at
the edge, he hardly noticed his hand ghosting over the noticeable bulge in his
robes.

The display was a hedonist�s paradise, a wanton debauchery of all that could be
considered healthy. The idea of Hippogriff smuggling resurfaced, only a Trojan
Hippogriff, filled every confection under the sun. It was so familiar. Potter
spread out before Draco, tied up and moaning as slice after slice was fed into
his mouth. You could see his cock glisten in the moonlight; you could see him
arching up, unsure of whether to respond to Draco�s feather light caresses, or
the elemental pleasure caused by the ingestion of the food. The boy was a
natural gourmand, a natural submissive. Who would have thought? Seeing Potter
trussed and tied and liking it, wrapped in a world of sugary bliss,
Severus�s hand was doing more than just ghosting over his robes. A frantic
massage was taking place, instinctive, visceral.

The feeling of familiarity persisted though. More than deja-vu, Severus knew that
there was something he was missing. He studied the tableau as well as he was
able, glancing quickly at it. The piles of food, the uncompromising moans of
lust. And then he realized. Just invert the hair color, and it would be Lucius
and himself, back in their schooldays, back in sixth year when everything had
been significantly less complicated, less fraught. When he could have Lucius
spread out on his knees, begging, pleading to give Severus a blowjob because
Severus had arbitrarily refused him sustenance all day. Watching Lucius Malfoy
begging was succor to the soul. And now his son had taken his place. Had taken Severus�s
place no less. Why could he feel the hand of Lucius in this?

He refocused on the boys, watching Draco shuck his clothing, the pubescent
eagerness which his cock sprang free. Potter both lifted his head for another
bite, and arched towards the sight, smearing cream across his visage. Severus
wanted to push back the foliage, remove his robe, and run his hands across that
body, lick the cream off Potter�s face, and claim him for his own, mimicking
Draco who was running his hands over Potter, twisting the sensitive nipples,
scratching down the pale flesh of Harry�s sides. How Draco refused to touch his
cock, refused Potter every release until the boy was so wrapped in a miasma of
pleasure that he was crying with anguish. Severus could see the runnels made in
the cream, and his hand slipped under his robe.

He was glad that he had, for Draco chose that instant to place his head at
Harry�s hole, laving the pucker with glee. His free hand brought up cherries,
and Severus could see Potter straining at his bonds to snap at them, to suck
their succulent juice. It was evident that Harry was half crazed with lust, and
when Draco removed his head, and positioned himself, hard, wet cock glistening
in the light, against Potter�s hole, Severus came into his hand.

Panting in the aftermath of orgasm, Severus watched the scene play on. Harry�s
begging he barely recognized in the afterglow of his own completion, but the
steady suction of the in and out thrust, the mewling of Potter as he felt
climax build, climax without a single touch to his cock was ambrosia. On
hearing the soft grunt which Draco made, he pulled back from the bushes. The
cry of �Harry� a moment later proved him correct. Lucius had made the same
noise prior to his completion.

He understood now. Lucius was playing a dangerous game, one potentially at odds
with Severus�s own interests. Mayhap he should contact his old paramour. The
bastard deserved some of his own medicine.

Yes, he would like to see Lucius ingest more than a grapefruit at breakfast.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Simple Plan