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Crap! #2	By : blastendedskrewt Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32232 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Harry Potter's universe and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
I know no one reads these intros but, PLEASE, PLEASE DO!!!!

Crap! #2, is a Sequel to Stray’s infamous, awesomely astounding story, “CRAP!” (http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544210873)

And it is partly written in collaboration with her. PLEASE READ THAT ONE FIRST!! (If you haven’t already) It’s her fault for writing something so squicky (and open-ended ;P) that it put such a wickedly horrid idea in my head—and I NEVER would have ever had thought of something like this otherwise! I blame her, and my fascination of the weirdnesses found in the recesses of human physiology and psychology.

DISCLAIMER: Yes, this is VERY disgustingly squicked-wicked subject material! If you are easily grossed out, then LEAVE NOW! This “Master-Piece-Of-Shit” story is just my answer to pushing the limits of what can (and still) push me to my own limits of SQUICK. I have the feeling that if there are others like me out there-- and I know there must be-- there is not much that can still shock you. We’ve pretty much seen it all in HP fanfic, butt, this may be it! EWWWWWWWWW!

Of course, the wonderful and talented JKR has no knowledge that her beautiful creation is being twisted into something so-- Is there even a word for it?! And Merlin knows NOBODY would pay me for writing this crap! (Although, I suspect some might pay me to obliviate them after reading this story)

~::::oOo::::~

Sure, we laugh about it now, but at the time it was nowhere near funny-- And who in their right mind would ever think that THAT was a good idea?

Thinking back on how this whole thing progressed made Harry smile fondly at the recollection and start to feel the inevitable stirring in his groin that accompanied these reminiscences every time. Even after all these years, the first two “episodes” they’d had together were still his two most cherished memories, favored above all others, preciously (and oh-so privately) guarded in his heart. Yeah, they’d evolved more refined techniques and acquired more appropriate spells since then, but Harry could appreciate how adorably awkward those first experiences were; they had bonded him with his darling Draco in an unbreakable way, and they probably wouldn’t have grown into the happy, content couple they were today otherwise.

Maybe he’d just have to remind Draco tonight when he got home from his annual spring Paris/Milan shopping trip with Narcissa? Thinking of those two clumsy escapades never ceased to put a randy smirk on his face as he recalled how it all unfolded….

~::::oOo::::~

"So are you ready?" Draco asked effusively while Harry silently lifted one of the tails of the shimmering material of his Invisibility Cloak for Draco to get under. Draco scurried forward and plastered himself to Harry's torso, getting more excited with every passing second; it had been far too long since they had been so intimately close! The blond was almost ready to burst in his enthusiasm and was starting to speak a little too loudly for the stealth they needed to ensure they wouldn’t be caught. “Did you bring the potion?”

He felt Harry's locks sliding along his ear and the side of his jaw as the scruffy-haired boy nodded and murmured a barely audible “Sshhh, yes” into Draco's ear.

Draco couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw Harry’s slight nervousness and thought about what they were going to do. That, and he was immensely relieved that Harry had the guts to show up for this rendezvous at all, knowing full well what was in store for him. He was glad one could always count on that Gryffindor daring, pride and bravery!

He could feel Harry's arm moving as he adjusted the almost liquid-seeming fabric above them to cover both of their bodies all the way to the flagstone floor, then he slipped an arm around Harry's shoulder, careful not to dislodge the cloak and tugged down his head until he could claim the slightly trembling lips in a searing kiss.

Harry didn't resist much, but he didn't seem to share Draco's growing giddiness either.

Well, it didn't matter. The blond still remembered how frightened and mortified he had felt when he had realised what was about to happen and that he would be unable to stop it. He imagined that Harry must be feeling-- if maybe not the exact same way-- something similar. At least Draco hadn't had time to think about what was going to happen for a day in advance, as it had happened so quickly and was truly an accident.

"You haven't changed your mind about this, have you?" the Slytherin asked before he could have stopped himself from blurting it out. It was a bad strategy to give Harry an opening like this. On the other hand, there was always that famed Gryffindorness to count on-- lucky for Draco-- to put up a brave front and step into any sorts of danger, but more importantly: to not go back on his word.

Harry shook his head and opened his mouth. The sound that came out of his throat was croaked, though. "Let's go," he rasped, and nudged them to move, turning him around and slipping an arm around his middle to automatically try and co-ordinate their steps. They were heading for the Prefects' bathroom, and very nearly there-- just one more moving staircase and part of the west fifth floor corridor to go.

The fingers of that arm around his waist slid under his robes and started playing with the hem of Draco's shirt, tugging it out of his trousers and then slipping into its place beneath the belt. This, and the growing hard lump being pressed into the back of Draco's thigh with every erratic, jostled mis-tread of their uncoordinated feet, told Draco that Harry might be a little anxious, but he was also undoubtedly aroused.

Draco allowed for Harry's fingers to wander to various parts of his anatomy (which he never had done in the past until they had reached a safe place) in order to distract The-Boy-Who-Was-Nervous from his hesitance. His own arousal was already palpable in his stylish Muggle trousers and the hotness of his skin where puffs of Harry's somewhat irregular breathing were transferring moisture onto his nape was spurring him on.

They weren't even halfway to their goal when Harry popped the button on Draco's fly and the Gryffindor’s nimble digits slid inside his pants, pressing his sweaty palm down flatly against Draco's (by that time) fully fledged erection. Draco let out a whimper before he could prevent it from escaping his mouth and stopped in his wake, allowing Harry to bump into him, and rubbed himself against that Quidditch-calloused hand. He knew he was going to come right then and there if they didn't stop and it was impossibly hard to curl his fingers around Harry's wrist and pull that skilled hand out of his pants.

But he only needed to think of his prize to strengthen his decision. (Well, that and the shockwave that would run through the numerous paintings on the upper floors if they got out of control out in the open of the otherwise deserted hallway!)

"Not here!" Draco whispered, gasping for some air, scrambling and determined to hold off for their ultimate destination-- both in location and the unusual sensual activity he most yearned for. It could have been so easy to give in, but instead he willed up some of his innate stubbornness and sense of pureblood entitlement for always getting the very best. "We’re almost there. And I cannot wait to fuck you after you've taken off all your clothes and drunk the potion. I want to see you when you lose control!"

"Draco…. are.... are you sure it's a good idea?" Harry asked as they both carefully dodged the trick step. The eager blond didn’t like the shakiness he heard in Harry’s gravelly voice.

"Don’t you want to do it as well?" The Slytherin was thrown for a second, but it strengthened his resolve to turn things around in his favour.

"I…. Sure." The voice sounded a bit tentative and less heated. Draco knew what it meant and had known that there would surely be one moment of insecurity Harry would have to get over before he would yield to Draco's desires. He was prepared to help him over that point if it was needed, and Harry's slight agitation seemed to confirm Draco's earlier premonition. And Draco thought it was a kind of sweet. (Wait, sweet?!)

He was glad he’d had the foresight to compose a little speech in advance. And though he did not remember all of it in the heat of the moment (as most of his blood was beneath his belt at the moment), he still knew the most important parts. But he wanted to wait until Harry was already inside the plush bathroom, stripped bare and aching to get off, so he wouldn't be able to just bolt without giving Draco enough time to talk him back into it.

Draco had been almost beside himself all day with avid desire and his passion had gushed forth (almost literally) upon meeting up with Harry on the way there. Now that they were just a few footfalls away from his goal, he fervently whispered, hoping to infect Harry with some of his optimism, “Ready for the experience of a lifetime?”

~::::oOo:::::~

Harry nodded absently at Draco’s question, a little flustered but mostly excited; he fingered the smooth glass bottle in his pocket, paying a bit less attention to the roving of his hands all over the blond’s lithe form. He’d thought about all this for a while now and had somehow managed to build himself up for it.

He couldn’t quite explain his perverted pleasure at the thought of repeating the horridly wonderful experience of that fateful Potions accident, with him being the one doing the dirty deed, but, something had captured his fascination that day and would not let it go. Especially since Draco’s gift had suddenly signaled his consent to continue this thing, whatever it was. He was half-hard all day, vacillating between mixed emotions, and couldn’t wait for night to come just for some resolution, one way or another.

Having found the right rhythm, Harry fell in step alongside Draco in their shared desire to reach the opulent bathroom and his pulse sped up, accompanied by an insistent throbbing in his cock. He felt naughty in a strange new way. Pondering how hot that time with Draco outside the potions classroom was, he barely registered that Draco was talking to him in breathless, hushed tones….

“—and breaking free from that taboo is brilliant! You’ll love it. Don’t worry about it being embarrassing. Well, it IS at first, but that melts away, and that’s what’s so good about it! It’s deliciously disgusting but we can handle the mess—“

And that’s when Harry froze in an irrational terror. Mess!

That one little word triggered a visceral fear which spread throughout his entire body. Harry didn’t know what stopped him in his tracks at the thought of what he had been enthusiastically, but with some unnamed reservations looking forward to just moments before; All he knew was that he could no longer go through with it and just stood there stock still, shaking his head wordlessly.

“What? Did you take it already?” Draco asked, taking in Harry’s abrupt stop to their late night journey and trying to figure out why his rival Seeker stood rooted to the spot when they were oh-so-achingly close to what he thought they both wanted. He dared wish that they might just have a repeat performance, with Harry starring in his previous role of his own all too humiliating (semi) public performance in an open hall of Hogwarts.

“No! And I’m not going to!” Harry furiously whispered back, trembling in fear now, rather than the feelings of desire he’d had just moments ago. Draco felt his hope crumbling.

Even Harry’s pressed proximity to the sexy blond under the cloak wasn’t enough to quell the black-haired boy’s rising panic-- Or renew his ardor. Both young wizards were beginning to huff and puff rather indignantly at each other, realizing that the dynamic was quickly deteriorating; the heat and humidity under the cloak was quickly shifting from lust to anger.

“I won’t. I won’t do it.” Harry adamantly refused. His jaw was tightly clenched, as was his quivering pucker. All anticipatory twinges in his once intrigued penis were now extinguished as if it had been slammed in the door of a Vanishing Cabinet.

“But you were the one who kept hinting at it before Christmas!!” the young Malfoy prince protested, raising his voice, “I thought—“

“I said NO!” and with that, Harry roughly clapped the ‘WWW’ vial of bowel liquefying potion into Draco’s slack hand. He was no longer concerned about keeping quiet.

“Just forget it!” The bespectacled boy had no doubt that Fred and George never ever envisioned THIS use for their ‘Wheezes’ prank potion! And at the moment, he could not picture what Malfoy intended either, at least not with utter trepidation and revulsion while it was still an option to have it not happen at all.

Draco opened his mouth to protest again. “Just…. No.” Harry stated with a grim finality.

~::::oOo:::::~

Draco took a deep, calming breath to quell his frustration. He turned the small bottle around in his fingers, disappointed that his unique Christmas present to them both was returned and its result seemingly out of reach. But he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“C’mon, let’s just talk some more inside,” he wheedled, changing his tone and tactics, hoping against hope he could turn the tide in his favour with some good old-fashioned sweet talk and his inherited Malfoy charisma. Pouring on the charm, he widened his eyes, stared directly into Harry’s flashing green ones and slowly ran his tongue over his pouty upper lip. Reaching for Harry’s bicep he gave a gentle, meaningful squeeze to the taut muscle and implored softly, “Just to talk, I swear.”

Heartened that Harry had not yet fled, Draco drew him close and turned his face away with the password about to be incanted. He was suddenly cut off by the opening of the bathroom door.

The sounds of about a hundred house-elves squealing and splashing around with apparent joy in the swimming pool sized bath and the sight of the Headmaster looming at the threshold shocked them to their senses. They were so stunned that it never even crossed their scared minds that normally they would not have been able to help but snigger at the fact that Dumbledore was wearing one of those old-fashioned one-piece striped swimsuits that (thankfully) covered most of his body, save for his knobbly knees and flaccid upper-arms.

They may have just as well been Stupefied.

“Christmas greetings, Mr. Malfoy, Harry,” Dumbledore said smoothly, genially inclining his head slightly at the each of them in turn, seemingly unsurprised to find the pair there. Both young wizards were at a loss for words, feeling they were sunk for sure. “I wasn’t aware that our annual tradition was open to students out after curfew.”

Draco and Harry stammered a bit, mumbling apologies and promises to leave straight away, keeping their eyes downcast-- not even finding the Headmaster’s soggy mis-matched socked feet at all funny. Professor Dumbledore crinkled his eyes and waved dismissively with his hand.

“Yuletide cheer makes me generous, so no points taken, but do see that you both go back to your respective houses now. After all, it’s only going to be Christmas for a few minutes longer…..” he said, peering down upon them benignly.

Harry and Draco let out the breaths they had been holding. From somewhere within the grand marble chamber, a gleeful high-pitched voice squeaked out, “Look Sir, I is a cannon ball!” followed by a frothy kerplunk and a roar of squawking elfish approval.

“Ah, excellent one, Gooby,” Dumbledore chuckled as the door swung shut, blocking out all evidence of what was going on beyond the heavy wooden barrier. And then there was dark and silence as if the encounter never happened.

Draco whirled around to face Harry, knowing that he had lost his chance to salvage the situation. Their combined acrimonious hot breaths were making it a bit too muggy for comfort under the magical silvery material. Harry just wanted to get far away from the source of his turmoil, to get somewhere that he felt safe. “This conversation isn’t over!” Draco quietly spat, clearly incensed at how his entire plan had gone so terribly awry.

“YES. It IS!” Harry ground out between gritted teeth, finding his escape path clear. The-Boy-Who-Was-Agitated actually shoved Malfoy out of his embrace as he yanked his Invisibility Cloak from him and concealed himself alone, hugging it tightly to him as if in an attempt to hide himself away further. The statue of Boris the Bewildered just blankly stared out from his alcove by the door at the scene before him under his steady, un-seeing gaze (and appeared just as confused as to why his gloves were on the wrong hands).

Draco’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly a couple times, glaring frustrated daggers at the sound of Potter’s retreating stomps back towards Gryffindor tower. No, this wasn’t over, the thwarted blond thought as he walked the corridors to the dungeons with a determined gait. He’d come up with some way to get what was due him! A Malfoy always did of course, no matter what the ways and means required, but there was also something much more important at stake….

It was only after hours of respective fuming in their separate dorms that it finally occurred to each of them, in their own time that Dumbledore had seen straight through their supposedly fool-proof disguise under the cloak. (And why had it not seemed at all odd to the Headmaster that the two publicly known enemies were sneaking around after hours, together-- with their arms entwined around each other?)

~::::oOo:::::~

The following days and weeks after school had resumed and gotten into full swing found Harry becoming increasingly distraught. His friends noticed that he wasn’t sleeping or eating well and had dark circles under his eyes. When asked what was wrong, all he could do was mumble it was “nothing” and hope they changed the subject.

Hermione was convinced he was having scar pain and nightmares again (“Is it You-Know-Who?”), but could not persuade him to confirm her suspicions. Not even after she set Ron to the task did they ever get any solid proof on Harry’s current malady (Ron was simply not able to stay awake to listen if Harry was talking in his sleep to give them any clues). The exhausted Boy-Who-Was-Confused kept tiredly denying anything was wrong. Ron and Hermione could only give each other concerned glances as they knew it was a lie, but were still unable to get it out of Harry as to what was eating him up inside.

How could he explain to anyone what haunted his dreams and the deep recesses of his psyche when he couldn’t understand it himself? He couldn’t make sense of it!

Putting aside the troubling notion of if anyone found out about him and Draco fooling around in general, it was a million times more worrisome that when he fantasized about the time Draco had lost control of his body in that public place (and not safely in a bathroom), it fired him up so much he got an instant hard-on. But when his thoughts drifted to himself and Draco doing That again with the roles reversed (somewhere along the way, this thing, this act became “That” and because of It’s name, It had earned capital letter status in his mind) all the fervent stroking in the world couldn’t maintain his rapidly wilting erection.

It was as if his dick had been doused by a Deflating Draught.

Since he’d entered the magical world, he’d had to put away lots of beliefs which society-- well, his aunt and uncle for sure--held to be true. He’d come to embrace his magical abilities. That was easy, felt natural to the core, and was indeed considered normal to all his newly found friends. He’d even come to terms with living under the shadow of a sociopathic murderer killing his parents and being after him his whole life!

He’d already been able to admit the fact that he fancied blokes (not that he’d come out to his closest friends yet), but being interested and quite involved with one in particular was a bit more odd, although still acceptable overall. But he couldn’t be too arsed to care about that at the moment-- Not with these new, bigger issues on his mind….

Why couldn’t he bring himself to put himself in That situation?

Rejection or repulsion? (No, Draco was into It, disappointed he wouldn’t do It.) Humiliation? (Yeah, there was quite a bit of that.) Why would anyone want to do That on purpose? (Still not sure why the answer is ‘yes’.) Why would something so gross be so titillating? (Of course it shouldn’t be--Even in the wizarding world!) Having someone else-- especially someone he wanted to seem attractive to-- SEE and SMELL how befouled and debased his body could become? (Definitely scary-- Irredeemable under almost every circumstance he could possibly conceive.)

Why am I still obsessing about this? (I really must be the abnormal, wickedly immoral freak the Dursleys always knew I was…. *sigh*.) And his mind would ruminate through this logic again and again…. And never come to any reconciliation.

It was completely mental. It was insanely daft. It just didn’t make sense.

What swirled under the surface and came to him nightly in successively escalating tortured dreams were frightening visual images; tiny snippets of bad feelings and humiliating memories-- of Aunt Petunia’s face, twisted and purple with hatred, thin tight lips spitting hostile unknown words at him, (although he thought he may have recalled the hiss, “Messssss” directed at him, and her subsequent recoiling with the term), her cruelty towards him, clearly loathing him when he had messed his pants by accident as a very young child. These blurred snapshots slid in and out of focus, invading his sleep.

Things he didn’t remember in his conscious, waking memory. Until now. THIS was bringing back what he’d buried and blocked out long ago….

What assaulted him when his subconscious dredged up the strange memories were the vituperative slaps, the rough handling and the scrub brush that stung scratches into his delicate skin when he was cleaned of his disgusting squalor (he was now appreciative that his horse-faced aunt had not chosen to hose him off in the back yard like a common animal, even though he knew it was only to keep up appearances with the neighbors).

There were also times he envisioned himself being stationed on the edge of the toilet-- rigidly perched, feet dangling and tiny hands clinging to the sides, terrified he would fall in-- all the while, screamed at to “Make!” He was not allowed to leave until he had sufficiently used his twice daily sanctioned chance to let loose his urine and feces.

But mostly he remembered being resented, detested, degraded and made to feel inferior and inadequate in every way.

Also, in the darkness of night, he could admit that the feeling of being “full in the pants” was bad and icky but just letting his waste go always felt more than good and brought on an incredibly euphoric sense of relief after holding it as long as he could. As he was locked in and not allowed out of the cupboard during the hours Uncle Vernon was home, he was at the mercy of biology and was not given any place to put it…. Even at such a young age, he knew the inevitable screeches and strong language would be enough to make him cringe and cower in shame, but as no other receptacle was forth-coming, he didn’t have much choice before he had language on his side….

Eventually he learned on his own to pull off his pants and squat by the door to the cupboard where his food tray was set. He had figured out for himself it was cleaner to do it there, on his only patch of bare floor, rather than have his excrement soiled clothes and solitary blanket taken away to be washed and then withheld. More often than not, it was a puddle and odor that seeped under the door that gave him away— In the back of his mind, Harry could still hear the angry mutterings of Uncle Vernon as he ripped the carpeting out of the hallway and was forced by his neat-freak wife to put down vinyl linoleum tile that was ‘easier to mop up’.

The Dursleys never paid him any interest though, before or after he had more control of his bodily functions and could articulate his needs, so even when he was trying desperately to get their attention anyway, dirty things tended to happen from time to time. He now remembered times long-forgotten and wished he didn’t. His nightmares were currently shining a spot-light on things he had hoped to never re-live again:

After he’d learned to use the bathroom by himself there were times he would be beating his little fists and feet on his door, screaming for a trip to the toilet and he was yelled at to “Hush!” When his attempts were ignored, the door remaining steadfastly shut, he would then slump in defeat and resignation and brace himself for the disgrace he knew was to come. Since he didn’t want to go on the floor anymore, he’d try to last all the way until morning, but sometimes his body just expelled his waste without his consent; it simply slipped out, oozing beyond his control if he had to wait too long.

Night time was the worst if he had an urge to go. Aunt Petunia seemed determined to prove to her husband how horrid he was, so after Dudley was tucked in, (sung lullabies to and cuddled in his crib until he drifted off), the television would be turned up to tune out any pleas he tried to make to be let out of the cupboard (he was supposed to be making no noise and pretending that he didn’t exist). And the bodily functions he could not help would then provide the evidence she needed to get the attention and sympathy she wanted from her husband.

To this day, Harry can not stand the late evening drone of voices on the TV from the other room (news programs in particular).

And yes, there was also the subsequent even colder neglect after an “accident”, but what hurt more was the belittling, crushing feelings he experienced as he heard Aunt Petunia glow about her ‘wonderful Duddy Diddykins’ “accomplishments”-- indulgently still in his diapers-- to Uncle Vernon when he returned home from work. And then how her tone changed as she recounted her trials and tribulations of the day about him, complaining about not being able to hold it for the hours he was locked under the stairs and how much “dirtiness” she had to endure from “the boy”, (still just a toddler).

Somehow that was the worst part.

By the time he was old enough to do chores for the household (and Aunt Petunia had deemed him well-trained and reliable enough to be seen briefly by Uncle Vernon) he was no longer locked in and given free reign to use the loo, provided he went straight back to his cupboard afterwards. That suited Harry just fine, since he preferred limited contact with the other occupants of the house. Then he had access to bathrooms when he was at primary school, and made every use of them he could before he had to go home.

He never did get over the tell-tale, sinful stink he would inevitably leave behind though—It was always an almost accusatory truth, shouting out to everyone the undeniable proof of what an ugly and repulsive thing he’d just done. That embarrassment he carries with him to this day, especially in shared restrooms or when other people are close-by.

He was still timid about his bathroom habits and routine in the dorms all throughout his Hogwarts career and often tried to coordinate around the times when the toilets were most utilized. He always marveled at the fact that others could shit shamelessly in public, especially how Seamus was actually quite proud of his extraordinarily noticeable stenches and advertised them so openly!

But the rest of the trauma he suffered surrounding his bodily functions had long been faded and forgotten as normal human child development dictates-- until these awful dreams started (and he cursed the wizarding long memory). His early experiences had undoubtedly left an indelible mark on his psyche.

As disturbing as those early amorphous recollections were, it was the intense emotions, almost nameless, that lingered on in biting wisps under his skin into the daylight hours:

If he had to describe it, it was like an underlying feeling of a helpless panic mixed with fear, self-loathing, and severe shame in his body for doing something horribly polluted and evil that was beyond his control-- The sensation of something bad impending he could not stop and would be reviled for; something that would undoubtedly NOT win him the parental kindness and affection he so longed for; something that would ostracize him even more than he was already-- for something he couldn’t help any more than breathing.

But why did he enjoy it when it happened to Draco? He knew it was not that he wished him any ill-will, they’d gotten WAY past “enemy” status; it wasn’t as if he simply reveled in Malfoy being humiliated. What haunted him was that it was sexual somehow.

Why was IT such a terribly tantalizing notion? Why couldn’t he get past what was so ingrained in his instincts as “wrong” when somehow, it still morbidly appealed to him? Why did such depraved thoughts trigger such strong positive and negative reactions in him at the same time? Why would defecation ever be all wrapped up into something to do with sex? And exactly why did he crave that wildly perverse act of abandon?

(WHY?) His tortured, rambling thoughts just took him around in circles and were slowly driving him mad. He had hoped that when the free time of the winter break was over his mind would be occupied with schoolwork, but he soon found out he was sadly mistaken. He felt so detached without anyone to talk things over with. He was most certain that, unlike when Arthur Weasley had given him and Ron “the talk” before setting off for their second year at Hogwarts, he would never hear the usual spiel of reassuring words, “Don’t worry, it’s completely natural, all the boys your age are going through it.”

And what scared him the most was that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially at the most inopportune times.

“Why-That?, why-That?, why-That?”, thudded in his veins with every heartbeat for weeks. He lamented this new addition to all the things that already set him apart from other people-- exasperated by yet another strange and bizarre thing that made him different from everyone else….*sigh*….(Why That?)

~::::oOo::::~

(Why-That?) Hermione’s concerned voice faintly pled through the blood pulsing loudly in his ears during a visit to the library: “What’s wrong Harry? Is it your scar again?” And he begun to wish it really was only a dastardly psychological Voldemort plot.

(Why-That?) Ron called through the fog in his mind and over the crackling of the common room fire: “Hey mate-- Earth to Harry, earth to Harry! I said, what about using the Hawkshead Formation for the match next Saturday?” And Harry was suddenly reminded he’d forgotten all about the Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor game coming up.

(Why-That?) Snape’s caustic comments and taunts floated through the haze of potion fumes in the dungeons: “POTTER! I said dice, not mangle those roots! Is our ‘Sainted Savior’ truly so incapable of following the most basic of instructions that even Longbottom has got it right for once? Five points from Gryffindor!” And the criticism and loss of house points couldn’t have mattered to him less.

(Why-That?) Professor McGonnagal sounded terse and close to losing her thin patience, cutting through the vast chasm Harry currently held to the present: “Mr. Potter! Are you trying to Transfigure yourself into a statue or are you going to complete the assignment I’ve given you this lesson?” And he didn’t miss the suspicious side-long glances she furtively stole in his direction for the rest of the class.

(Why-That?) Dumbledore’s unfathomable benevolence broke through his defenses one day as they passed each other in the corridors: “Is there anything you wish to tell me Harry?” And he didn’t see any of the usual twinkle over those half-moon spectacles.

Even Hagrid had noticed that he became preoccupied and distant at times but was intuitive and sensitive enough to know when to give Harry some space and just let them lapse into companionable silence, sipping bucket-sized cups of tea in his cluttered hut. There was even one instance when Harry was so out of it he’d actually reached for and bitten into a rock cake with out realizing it!

But the most disturbing thing about his turbulent thoughts was the serious blush and boner he’d get just by thinking of or looking at Malfoy, especially when he thought of the potions accident-- Or seeing old school photos of the sexy ginger twins; the intense reaction he’d get thinking of them testing out their Weasely Wizarding Wheezes product on themselves and each other made him flinch yet get painfully hard every time.

Oh, good lord Merlin! THIS made Wendelin the Weird’s penchant for public displays of full body burning, freezing and tickling look positively normal and cute! Hell, getting this horny over thoughts of THAT made Aberforth’s lecherous proclivities towards his goats seem downright ordinary and tame! It was all just so…. Odd.

Why? Why ME? (Why-That?)!

~::::oOo::::~

Of course it didn’t help that Malfoy kept (discreetly) pursuing and hounding Harry in the days that followed that first Christmas (non) incident and into the winter term at any time they were in the same area. Meals with the staff and so few pupils staying over the holidays made it hard to corner each other for any sort of conversation. The first time Draco caught Harry alone-- behind Greenhouse 3 after The-Boy-Who-Was-Distraught had gone down to visit Hagrid sans the other 2/3’s of the golden trio-- he eagerly brought up the subject again figuring now that Harry had had some time to cool down and consider things, all would be status quo and another meeting could be planned.

But something wasn’t going according to the picture Draco had formed in his head. Harry's expression was now transforming into a helpless frown, but he chose not to comment about that. "How about the first Hogsmeade weekend before term? On New Year’s Eve day?" the shaky Gryffindor asked.

It was music to Draco’s ears that Harry even suggested a postponed “date” but the blond was non-plussed. "You want to go to Hogsmeade? You know we can’t be seen together. And there’s going to be a party at Rosmerta’s before the feast….”

“No…. We could each stay behind with some excuse or other, or duck out early. Or one of us could go and then leave and the other one stay behind. No one would think much of it, studying for NEWTS and all….Plus we’ve been there a million times. And everyone would be away… too busy to notice we weren’t there….” Harry rambled and stammered, keeping his eyes downcast as he scuffed a toe in the dirt, giving away his insecurity.

Draco thought it was endearing. And exciting. And VERY promising! "True." Draco's lips pulled into a slow, calculating smile as he pondered the possibilities. He already felt better, disappointment giving way to anticipation.

He stepped closer to Harry, intent on not letting him go without at least a thorough snog to dream about until their next encounter. Harry hastily looked around for any on-lookers or straggling students on the grounds free to roam during the holiday break. Upon approval of Harry’s inspection and feeling those rough hands grip his shoulders, Draco sank into Harry's body and twined his arms around the other boy's waist, relaxing in the familiar embrace. He couldn’t help venting some of his pent up energies by allowing his mouth free rein as his lips worked their way down that tense neck.

"You're going to love it!” he gasped between kisses and licks. “It’s so liberating to just let go!" He hoped to transfer some of his enthusiasm to Harry… through his touch, his tongue…. He brushed his crotch against Harry’s hip to prove his point. Draco nuzzled his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, breathing in his alluring scent, getting more worked up by the second.

Harry smiled but pulled back a bit and his nose gave a slight twitch. "Sure you're saying it now. But I bet you didn’t feel so amped up to do it when you were there," he said, letting a bit of the internal struggle and reticence Draco had known was there show on his face and in his words. Draco hurried to alleviate it.

"It won't be like that for you because you know I already understand!” (Bugger! Harry thought. That WAS a good point!—one he thought he knew but was reassured to hear nonetheless).

“You'll see how good it is. Sure it’s embarrassing at first, and a colossal mess— but that's the greatest thing about it: You’re just going to stop caring. It's like a dam would suddenly crumble and give way to the flood! Quite literally, I say." Draco smiled, a bit shy about his outburst now, and felt his face flush and his pulse quicken in remembrance. And then he mentally switched his and Harry's roles, his imagination going wild.

"I can't wait to see you naked and bothered and messy!” his hot urgent breath ghosting over Harry’s neck and the dark-haired wizard felt a knee sensually snaking up his inner thigh to gently nudge more sensitive bits. “I want to see the look in your eyes when you can't hold it anymore. I want you to show me everything.” Draco ground himself against the other boy, his excitement taking over.

“It's like laying bare not only your body but also your soul. I want to be the only one who has seen you like that," he heatedly tickled into Harry's ear in a fervent whisper, not being able to resist rhythmically rubbing his stiffness against Harry's thigh. “I want to witness your ultimate release!”

Then Harry suddenly captured his lips in a desperate kiss, preventing Draco from any further talking. If he noticed that Harry wasn’t hard anymore, or that his muscles were somewhat tense, he didn’t let himself be bothered by it. He understood it could be scary if someone had not experienced the utter freedom that came with that particular kink. He knew Harry would do it, if only to placate Draco, and after he had experienced it, he would discover that Draco had been right about it all along and there was nothing to be afraid of. And he would know that Draco was, really and truly, understanding.

But just then, Hagrid came around the edge of his garden and they abruptly pulled apart. Harry flew back all too hastily for Draco’s liking. Moments later, watching Harry’s retreating back, Draco was irked they never made a solid time and place for THE “date”.

~::::oOo::::~

Unfortunately, the opportunity of convincing Harry about keeping his word proved fruitless. As the weeks passed, Draco's bubbling anticipation slowly turned into irritation, frustration and finally anger.

First there had been the New Year's Eve party: Harry had drunk something someone had given him that proved too strong for him and passed out hours before the time they had eventually agreed upon. Draco had only learnt about it from an overheard conversation between group of fourth year Hufflepuffs, after Weasley and Finnigan had already transported Harry back into the Gryffindor tower to sleep it off.

On the next occasion Draco proposed, Harry had suddenly got a detention and had to scrub cauldrons the whole night. Draco had not been suspicious, since Professor Snape was known for his tendency of giving detentions to Gryffindors at random – especially if said Gryffindor was Harry.

Then came the “accident” with the Bubotuber pus during Herbology class, the never-ending Transfiguration essay, having to help the DADA teacher for extra credits, the fire-call DUMBledore set up for the ginger Gryffindorks and Harry on Weasley senior’s birthday, and a long row of other stupid excuses Draco was too tired to keep in mind. They all amounted to the same thing: Potter had promised him something and was now trying to get out of that promise without owning up to Draco. And Draco had had enough of it. No Malfoy would be denied their inherent right to whatever they desired!

It got to the point that the bespectacled boy was staunchly dodging any eye contact with Malfoy altogether, and needless to say, their usual frivolous encounters seemed a thing of the past. Harry managed to keep any sort of discussion from happening for weeks by being flanked with at least one fellow classmate until one Friday in mid February after a grueling day of classes-- The pureblood caught him by himself in the Entrance Hall before dinner.

“Potter! Stop!” commanded the Slytherin, fists rigidly balled on his slim hips. (Damn if he didn’t look incredibly sexy when taking charge!) His nostrils were flared, a few wisps of his white-blond hair were whipping around his forehead and there were two rosy spots on his high, aristocratic cheek bones-- His mission was Harry and Harry always found that Malfoy sense of entitlement and confidence to be his un-doing.

Harry blanched, knees buckling, as he slowly realized he was alone and cornered (and done for). “What, Malfoy?” he shouted, stomping angrily over with a scowl on his face and putting up a good front (groaning inwardly about what he’d heard from Muggle lore about “Friday the 13th”, although a lot of students had seemed to be acting quite mental lately).

Then Harry lowered his voice, “Don’t ask me about, about…. That again!” he growled furiously with the most menace he could muster at the moment, casting furtive glances around to see if anyone would see them talking to each other.

They stood there for a couple of long seconds, chests puffed up, leaning aggressively forward and eyed each other with icy glares.

“I wasn’t going to ask you again about That!” Malfoy hissed just as angrily, but stepping even closer so as to not be overheard, he softened his tone and posture, “I just want us to get off with each other like we used to, you know, before…. That.”

Harry still looked skeptical. And vexed. Draco had no way of knowing that the Gryffindor’s inner turmoil had only risen to panicked heights with the more time that had passed, the more he had a chance to dwell on IT. The Boy-Who-Was-Apprehensive’s eyes were tightly drawn and defensive, his lips pursed into a thin line.

But the young Malfoy sensed the reluctance and took on a pleading note in his voice. “Please? Just a blowjob? A simple hand job? Anything?” he cajoled, noticing Potter was close to relenting; those intense green eyes were dilated and he was breathing heavily.

“C’mon,” he wheedled, “I’m dyin’! Two of my favorite bits are turning blue here!” he gestured towards his crotch with an irresistible, randy lop-sided grin. Harry noticed his school robe was unfastened down the front, and the blond swept it slightly open, revealing a tantalizing turgid bulge in his black trousers.

Harry finally cracked a tentative half-smile, “Yeah, ok.” He weakly laughed in shaky relief. “I’m horny as hell too,” he whispered and nervously ran his fingers through his unruly hair. How could he deny that rare smile that positively lit up the beautiful blond’s face? Or resist what looked so delicious under that elegantly tailored wrapper? Both young wizards looked a little sheepish, but pacified and excited (for very different reasons) to have finally come to some sort of agreement.

“Brilliant!” Draco breathed in a happy, hushed voice, silver-grey eyes sparkling with joy. Suddenly, Draco’s eager expression was replaced with a cold mask of indifference. “We can’t be seen together. Tomorrow morning, five am, the docks,” and spun on his heel, striding stiffly away just as Ron stalked up behind Harry, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oy! What did that git want?” Ron demanded. Harry grinned. Answering easily and truthfully, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders as they walked in to dinner he replied, “Oh, nothing special, just the usual.”

Harry smiled privately behind the red-head’s rigid stance as they made their way into the Great Hall-- Ron just figured that maybe his best friend was finally coming out of his most recent (albeit rather long and annoying) funk, and forgot all about the confrontation with Malfoy as the food appeared before them and he started shoveling it in.

Nobody saw the Slytherin’s triumphant expression or the somewhat malicious execution of an appetite charm aimed at Harry’s back. All the Gryffindor Seeker knew was he felt relaxed for the first time in weeks, was ravenously hungry and he was getting sucked off tomorrow! He was blissfully unaware of Malfoy’s self-satisfied smirk as he gobbled up second and third helpings of everything. And he slept better that night than he had in a long, long time.

~::::oOo::::~

So, that’s how it came to be that Harry was standing, teeth chattering under his Invisibility Cloak, at five am in the dank, rock cavern that housed all the little rowboats the first years used for their maiden voyage to the castle.

Harry paused to admire the enticing view of Draco’s ass bent over one of the boats. Draco, it appeared, had removed all but one of the plank seats and was busy Transfiguring some scraps of cloth into quilts and pillows. As he arranged them in the bow and applied a heating charm to his silk and velvet nest, he noticed Harry had arrived and smiled seductively over his shoulder.

“Why are we out here?” Harry’s voice echoed eerily out of place in the vast chamber, even though he whispered. A chilling mist clung to the rough-hewn stone walls making him shiver. “It’s freezing.”

“You’ll warm up soon enough, once we get going. Have a seat.” Draco motioned to the bench at the oars and Harry cautiously climbed in at his designated spot of “rower”, still too half asleep to question anything further.

As Draco started to wrap and weave himself into the luxurious blankets he’d conjured, Harry laboriously maneuvered the boat out of the mouth of the massive cave. Once the sexy Slytherin was ensconced in his plush cocoon to his liking, he started rummaging through a large picnic basket on his lap. It was so quiet in the early hours of the morning that it surprised Harry when Draco exclaimed, “Wow, Dobby must really like you, he packed a bit of everything in here for us. Ooooh, coffee! That’ll warm you up!”

Draco pulled two intricately filigreed silver flasks out of the basket and took a moment to inspect each one. Perhaps Harry was overly paranoid and automatically hearing Mad-Eye’s gruff voice in his head shouting “Constant Vigilance!”-- or remembering the time Umbridge tried to trick him into taking tea laced with Veritaserum which he had strategically chucked into her vase of dried flowers-- but he could have sworn Draco deliberated over which flask to give him a bit too long. He was pretty sure he couldn’t get away with dumping Draco’s coffee offering overboard without being noticed.

Though Draco wasn’t a known enemy per se, there was still his sneakiness to consider and a selfish streak that shouldn’t be underestimated. In the back of his mind, Harry had not forgotten that he had denied Draco something he wanted, despite what he said about having this just being a typical encounter for the both of them. But, he DID need caffeine this early in order to function adequately and sounded like it would really hit the spot.

He decided, just as a precaution, he would switch the coffees when Draco wasn’t looking, just to make sure there was no “funny business”, as Uncle Vernon would say. And he got that chance in the next minute as Draco left the bottles unattended, propped up in folds of the blankets by their feet as he rummaged around in the basket’s bounty again. Harry figured that if the potion wasn’t in either flask, well, then, no harm done.

Harry didn’t see the devilish smirk that was threatening to break on Draco’s lips from behind the wicker lid when he saw that Harry had indeed taken the bait and exchanged the coffees just like he was so sure (well, 95% sure) that he would. After all, he had done a superb Slytherin acting job of “obviousness with subtlety” in doling out the coffees and giving ample time and feigned inattention for Harry to seal his fate (Father and Professor Snape would be proud, he gloated inwardly).

Harry, finding that his coffee was magically at the perfect temperature to his liking, took several big gulps and then resumed his rowing, letting the warmth spread in his belly. Draco nibbled on a toast point while Harry propelled them across the black water, broken only by pauses to coast on momentum while he took another sip of his coffee. The exercise and the caffeine were both helping him to wake up and spread an invigorating heat throughout his body.

Draco was the first to shatter the dark pre-dawn serenity as he gently hand fed a Ginger Newt to Harry. At the surprisingly intimate gesture, the athletic teen felt his heart quicken at more than just the exercise.

“Here….” Draco unlaced The-Boy-Who-Was-Feeling-Vigorous’ shoes, pulled them off and threw them into stern… same with his socks, and felt no hesitation at rubbing the newly bared (kinda moist and stinky) skin. And, DAMN! It felt really good! Harry felt simply brilliant at the feeling of having his feet brought into the warm blankets and massaged with sensual care…. Somehow that touch reached up inside him, radiating pleasure to his very core.

“That’s nice….” Harry murmured, slowly continuing to tug the oars. He knew full well that the Slytherin was the one calling the shots and that he had a plan. Harry just wanted to hurry up and get to whatever destination Draco had in mind to ease his long overdue arousal and get that promised blowjob….

He actually thought he felt butterflies in his belly for a second, and then immediately quashed that thought down-- He was a man, not some silly little school-girl! He would have a fluttering swarm of Snitches in his stomach, damn it! It was ONLY like the swooping sensation of doing an excellently executed Wronskei Feint! But there was definitely something very exciting about finally being alone together again, and it had his stomach and heart rate whirring-- Suddenly, he even felt a little trembly and flushed.

“Where are we headed, Draco?” Harry mumbled through the pear slice that had just been popped in between his lips and the stitch in his side from the effort of rowing.

If Draco noticed the small “pfft” sound reverberating on the wooden bench that had just escaped Harry’s behind from all the exertion of his active muscles--or the strongly fermented, fetid odor that enveloped the immediate area-- he didn’t mention it. Harry was grateful for his silence and the darkness that hid his reddened cheeks. He sped up his strokes to swiftly glide them away from the vicinity of his smelly embarrassment.

He shrugged it off. At least he wasn’t with some prissy girl with whom such an indiscretion would be a complete turn-off and definite deal breaker—and took solace in the fact that he’d witnessed far worse from the boy sitting opposite him.

“I assume we’re just trying to get out of sight?” He tried again to get the details of the plan, the all-encompassing night sky and tranquil stillness kept him thinking that he had to continue to keep his voice down. But he appreciated the light of the near full moon, as it kept him able to just make out their surroundings and appreciate the shimmering glow it cast over Draco’s platinum hair and translucent skin.

“Oh, we’ll get to where we’re going soon, I expect,” the nonchalant blond replied enigmatically. He purposefully never really indicated where he intended for them to go and fell silent once again. The relaxed boy in the bow was too interested in seeing those burly broomstick-trained muscles bunch and flex, and could watch it all day.

“You can take your jumper off if you’re hot,” suggested Draco, licking his pouty lips hungrily, eyeing the glisten on Harry’s forehead and upper lip with interest. Harry just shrugged and pulled his sweater off over his head, ruffling his hopelessly rumpled hair even further and revealing a very old and too small T-shirt. The lustful blond loved the way there was some sweat underneath all the winter chill as he exercised, and that the worn-thin material didn’t leave much to the imagination; the hard little jewels of his nipples were clearly visible and it turned him on even more.

“Just keep rowing, you look amazing” and with that, Draco languidly trailed a hand over his jawbone, neck and chest, then it disappeared under his covers. The exaggerated twitch at the corner of his mouth, the minute revolving motion of his shoulder and the sustained eye-contact left no doubt as to where his hand had settled. Then there was some not-so-subtle rustling and shifting movements under the blankets that made it a bit more than obvious that Draco was divesting himself of his clothing.

The Slytherin Prefect, after it was clear that he was nude under there and lifting the hem of the silk quilt that had slipped off one creamy shoulder, inquired lightly, “Just out of curiosity, why were you so against taking a turn at That?”

Harry visibly tensed, completely disconcerted, and stopped in mid-stroke at the mention of the forbidden topic. (He could have sworn that he saw the sexy blond’s hand give himself a meaningful squeeze under the blanket when he mentioned That, but of course, he could just be paranoid.)

“I’m not requesting, if that’s what you’re worried about!” Malfoy hurriedly explained, “I just… I mean, you were the one bringing it up before Christmas is all….” Draco shoved another biscuit in Harry’s gaping mouth to quiet him from protesting in any way before the he could have a chance for the words to sink in.

Little did he know, the musky scent of where his hand had been just moments earlier wafted up from his finger tips as he fed the Gryffindor, further fueling the Seeker’s need; And confusion-- desire and denial. He had effectively gotten Harry’s libido’s attention back with that unintentional whiff, but the be-spectacled boy shook his head, as if to remind himself that he still had a brain in there. And it was saying something different than his cock-- One big member of Harry’s being that, at the moment, was being irrationally insistent. Yes, it had been quite awhile….Too long, in fact.

How could Harry tell his—what? (Ex-arch-nemesis? Sex-Buddy? Boyfriend?!?)-- about his nightmares? The vague recollections of Aunt Petunia chastising him, how he disgusted her and all those plaguing emotions he’d been feeling for being so intrigued by something like That? It made his stomach churn in a knot just thinking of it.

So he just mumbled thickly, choking a little on cookie crumbs, but ground out in a clipped, closed way, “I had a strict childhood. My aunt who raised me didn’t like me or any mess. It was bad.” He shook his head. “I can’t willingly go There.”

Draco simply nodded. They lapsed into a somewhat peaceful quietude that mirrored their surroundings and both tipped the last of their drinks down their throats. Harry resumed pulling the oars to distract him from the pinched feeling in his side from rowing and the unease that grew in the pit of his stomach from discussing That, however briefly, and tried to banish the anxiety of dredging up those feelings.

“Yeah, I had a really regimented upbringing too," Draco mused thoughtfully, breaking through the rowing boy’s reverie. But thankfully, for Harry, he didn’t pursue the matter further. For awhile, they didn’t talk at all, they just listened to the oars splish through the water, breathing in the crisp, cold winter air, and searched the horizon for any hint of sunrise illumination.

Harry felt relieved now that it was clear that the subject was closed and turned his attention to other things, like getting them to someplace that they could both pull each other off--or suck, that would be even better, if they could last that long!

Despite the feeling of “getting off the hook” in terms of That, somehow he sensed some unsettledness in his middle—maybe it was just because he hadn’t eaten a full meal for weeks until last night. He quickly put it out of his head; he would be getting a blow-job shortly and felt his prick twitch and start to fill at the thought.

The-Boy-Who-Was-Horny turned his attention to Draco who had just picked up a bunch of grapes and had thrown his head back as he nibbled them straight off the stem. Harry’s gaze lingered over the pale outline of his bared throat: The hard-stretched column, the gentle line bending, the slight bumps undulating along the center as he swallowed leading up to the triangle shape of his jaw-line and the smoothly rounded point of his chin….

He felt more stirring in his groin. There was the welcome twinge, then the tingles and a familiar straining of flesh against fabric; He remembered something else on that scrumptious body that had a similar, graceful curve and pointed end like that. His innards squirmed again. He yearned to touch all that beauty…. To taste….

Observing that the looming bulk of the castle was now out of sight and no longer blocking out the constellations on the horizon, Harry’s attention drifted off from propelling them across the water and just stared. He licked his lips and feasted on the compelling sight before him. His erection was tight in his pants and the swirling desire in his balls reached a dull ache. Draco looked up when the boat slowed to a stop.

Perhaps sensing the moment was right, (or just simply being so sexy and had some innate impeccable timing), the blond loosened his features into a provocative smile that could melt hearts; it was look that was reserved for only very private moments between the two. Harry forgot all about rowing or oars (what are oars?), and pounced on the enticing flesh lounging before him in the comfort of the make-shift bedding.

The boat rocked violently but neither boy paid it any mind or cared.

Draco let out a whoosh of breath that clouded over Harry’s shoulder for an instant before he brought down his warm, wet lips on Harry’s shoulder. “Too much clothes!” he muffled out in a mouthful of material while the boat roiled dangerously again. He could feel the humidity emanating from Harry’s chest as the be-spectacled boy’s body wriggled into the cocoon of blankets. The sudden hotness was a sharp, moist and steamy contrast to the cold air around them—delicious feverish shivers shuddered over the two boys.

Harry hastened to pull his t-shirt off, baring his toned chest and pressed it close to the already bare velvety warmth that was Draco. The blond’s breath hitched and he flung a quilt around Harry, encapsulating them together within and running his smooth hands everywhere they could reach on Harry’s torso-- all the while nipping and suckling on his beautiful lips, neck and collarbones. The light touch of fingertips ghosting over his nipples and playing with the sparse hairs around them made a thrill of delight shoot through Harry’s overly stimulated body.

He’d missed this-- SO MUCH-- and his throbbing cock couldn’t have agreed more!

But after a few ardent minutes of passionate kissing and groping, Harry’s whole posture stiffened; the hairs on his arms and on his nape bristled and stood on end. Feeling an ominous rumbling in his tummy, he pulled away and rose up, nervously eyeing the shore, desperately trying to see through the blackness and deep shadows to where the bank was. “Ah…. Erm…. I think the coffee’s hitting me.”

“Well, just piss over the side of the boat and get back in here,” Draco protested, still panting and pulled the covers back tighter around himself. “Hurry up, it’s freezing!”

It was going to be embarrassing enough to call off their tryst for this, but there was no helping it. The-Boy-Who-Was-Anxious entertained the wild notion that he could get the boat close enough to the loch’s edge, leave Draco bobbing in the eddies, wade through the shallows kicking Grindylows aside, run barefoot into a screen of dense forest (well out of ear-shot) and clear out his noisome bowels-- Acromantulas be damned!

Harry became noticeably fidgety, his eyes flicking back and forth and sweating a-fresh through newly formed goose bumps. “Um, it’s…..it’s….”

“It’s what, exactly?” Draco inquired, playing innocent and barely holding back a wicked grin. Harry didn’t see the gloating gleam in Draco’s eyes as he was becoming too frantic about his current predicament, panicking and trying to assess how far away the closest beach was-- And how he was impossibly going to have to clamp his buttocks together and contort his abdominal muscles while rowing in order to get them there in time.

Harry felt a pang of increased pressure in his intestines and felt himself swelling like a balloon-- And NOT in the one place he most wanted to focus on at the moment! He inwardly cursed the fragile failings of his internal plumbing and its rotten timing.

He squirmed knowing something was definitely brewing and bubbling and it was not going to be very pleasant. He thought if he could just ease out another fart to relieve some of the urgency it might buy him some time (and actually started to lift a leg), but soon realized from the slurpy, oozy sensations in his innards that he couldn’t guarantee what all might come out so he didn’t chance it. There were also some rather impolite noises emanating from his midriff. He hoped Draco hadn’t noticed.

He was jolted by another torrent of shifting, rushing mud, sloshing lower, adding to his discomfort; it was definitely percolating. “We need to get to the shore! Now!”

“What? Why? Neither of us has come yet,” Draco objected, still acting guileless and lazily stroking his own cock. “Isn’t it romantic out here?” But something in his exaggerated tone reminded Harry of the Weasley twins batting their eyelashes saying, ‘Who? Us?’ after a particularly nasty prank. (And “romantic”?! Please!!!!)

It made Harry take a good, long, hard look at Draco. It was then he saw the self-satisfied smirk on his reddened lips and the predatory spark of lust in his eyes. Suddenly Draco’s choice of having them stuck in the middle of the lake in this little rowboat with no escape made complete sense.

“You bastard,” Harry breathed, hunching forward as another tell-tale lurch and loud gurgling fizzle sounded in his guts. “You dosed me with the potion, didn’t you?” he spat out just as a savage cramp seized him hard. He already knew the answer.

“I switched them! I thought you might pull something like this so I switched them!” He mumbled furiously to himself, attempting to wrap his extremely distracted mind around the obvious way his plan went awry.

“Who? Me?” the cunning blond replied so saccharinely, falsely sincere that he all but sealed his admission of guilt right then. Chest heaving, Harry managed a glare through a wince as another wave ravaged through him. He hugged an arm protectively around his middle. “What are you going to do, Haaarry?” Draco asked with a leer in his voice.

Harry just pursed his lips and flared his nostrils, churning with internal upheaval, both mental and physical. “Looks as if you’re all out of options.” Draco smiled widely and relaxed back on his pillows, hands folded snidely behind his head, entirely too pleased with himself over this turn of events.

“I can wait ‘till we get to back on land!” The-Boy-Who-Was-In-Agony declared hotly, but the contents of his intestines settled again, seeping lower and the resultant borborygmus grumbling was audible to all in the boat. Harry’s face flushed pink, shining with the effort it was taking to will his body to hold in what mustn’t come out.

He grimaced as another spasm gripped him below his belly-button; the contractions coming closer together now. He feebly felt around for the oars. The pain he could handle, it was the inevitable result of these sensations he did not want to fathom. But the damned shore kept looking like it was getting farther and farther away and it was a risky gamble to depend on the strength of his sphincter.

“I can get us there in time; I can get there in time….” Harry quietly pleaded, chanting to no one in particular, more to give himself hope than anything else.

“Are you sure?” Draco asked in a soothing tone, running his hands over Harry’s distended abdomen, tugging at his deflating erection.

“Fuck!” Harry ground out between gritted teeth when his last hope of making it out of the boat in time faded in a second from the feeling of impending doom. With a thrill of horror, he could feel a huge volume of liquid filling his rectum and pounding against his clenched anus, demanding freedom from its confines. He felt a small leak soak into his underpants. There was no hope now; he was beyond humiliated and realized he really was all out of options.

And he really wished he hadn’t eaten so much last night!

“Fine! I’ll just have to go over the edge!” He frantically tore down his trousers and slightly soiled Y-fronts and flung them into the stern without a second glance. In his clumsy haste, he tried to half sit, half squat over the side, but he couldn’t quite balance.

“Hold my hands!” Harry ordered, reaching out to Draco to steady himself while the boat rocked uncooperatively. Harry couldn’t stand the almost malicious look of mischief in Draco’s eyes as they roamed his body in amusement. “Don’t look at me!” He screamed in a hoarse whisper from the back of his throat as they found a precarious equilibrium that allowed Harry’s insistent ass to hover over the rim of the boat.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally steeling himself for what was about to occur--And that his lover (Ok, the guy he had random sex with! His ex-nemesis. Ok, the guy he wanted to be attractive to!) would be witness to this ghastly, mortifying moment. Prepared to unleash the fury of the feces lurking in his bowels, he reluctantly let the first uncontainable drop escape.

But what neither young wizard had ever thought would happen struck them in a rapid succession of incredible events:

At the split second that first runny drip splashed the lake’s surface, a huge tentacle from the giant squid rose up and smacked Harry across his backside so hard that he was flung headfirst back into the boat. The weight of him landing on Draco caused the boat to pitch backwards, tipping dangerously in the other direction. Frightened out of his wits, Draco squealed, “Immobilous!” in a high-pitched screech. Then everything was still and quiet.

They stared at each other, hearts racing with unexpected adrenaline then noticed the water surrounding their boat was “frozen”, keeping it from rocking. It was stuck at a slightly odd angle, tilted to one side. And that damned menacing tentacle was still curled, poised above the surface, but thankfully, quite unmoving too.

Harry was panting and drenched in sweat, just trying to postpone the inevitable. That big jostle didn’t help anything either. He slumped onto his elbows straddling Draco with his face twisted in concentration-- His body was past ready and just moments ago, promised release. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

His rational mind was screaming “No!” but his body was begging for him to just give in. At that moment he knew if he moved a muscle in any direction, he would let loose right then, so he remained motionless-- wishing he could forever. (OH, what he wouldn’t give right now to have a merciful “Petrificus Totalus” cast on him until he was graciously “Locomotored” to the castle, placed atop a commode, “Ennervated” and “Silencioed” THERE, and then left alone in the privacy of a proper bathroom!)

Or at least have the courage to just go for it….where was his Gryffindor bravery now?

Harry heard, “Just let it go,” hum against his ear in a low tone that sent shivers all over his entire being.

“I CAN’T, it’s bad, …. it’s a MESS!” Harry whined piteously hiding his face (and the tears in his eyes from effort) in the crook of Draco’s neck. Leaning all his weight on his forearm, he quickly slapped the trembling fingers of his other hand between his legs to press against his straining anus and desperately will it to stay squeezed shut.

“Mess can be goooood….” Draco quietly consoled. “Harry…. let yourself goooooo….” Harry just whimpered, determined to cling to his last shred of self control. The Slytherin could feel Harry’s shoulders quaking as he rubbed light circles on his back.

“Look at me!!” Draco said abruptly, in a sharply contrasting stern tone. It startled Harry enough to snap to attention and rise up to look into the pair of smoldering, shimmering silver eyes that were boring into his soul. From the commanding timbre and horrid inequity of the situation he half expected to see Snape’s icily cruel, fathomless black eyes glaring into his, demanding his utter humiliation.

Instead, Draco’s voice softened again once he had caught the Gryffindor’s anguished green eyes. “Stop fighting it,” he calmly urged. Harry knew he was only seconds away from a massive disgusting eruption, but he continued to resist it.

“Let me help you….” the confident blond cooed, holding his gaze intensely and running his hands all over, splaying his fingers over Harry’s aching abdomen reverently.

Harry was just thinking, “Do I dare?”, when Draco’s smooth hands grabbed his waist roughly. Then, in a forceful whisper Harry felt brush against his lips, he heard: “It’s time.” Draco gouged his thumbs in and down, right over Harry’s navel, forcing him beyond any hope of holding in his crap.

“Oh fuck, oh god, I can’t”….*whimper*….”stop”.…*softly keening*….”Noooooo....” Harry groaned as hot, bubbling shit began fountaining between fingers. He felt the first uncontrollable trickle on his balls and to his surprise, also felt a twinge in his penis. The still slightly stifled stream dribbled past his hand and sac to what was underneath him.

Draco. In fact, Draco’s hard as a rock cock was right beneath the path of the foul fluid. Harry could tell-- he could feel the throbbing heat and tumescence of it on the back of his hand and knew he was about to soil that beautiful porcelain skin and those white-gold hairs in the most grotesquely, disgustingly debauched way.

He couldn’t help it; there was no way to hold back the deluge that was to come. There was no doubt bound to be a nauseating steam and unbearable stench curling towards their nostrils within milliseconds and he was beyond ashamed. But Harry vaguely heard a breathily moaned, “Rhinal Anasenthsia!” through the haze of his mortified mind.

And there was no shock of a sickening smell; only sounds; both bodily and vocally-- just a viscous stew being poured and the moans of two voices. And a sloppy wet feeling. And a popping, spluttering, gurgling sound. And a spectacularly amazing sensation of freedom: Both mentally and physically; both emotionally and spiritually!

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck….” was all that Harry seemed to be able to utter, letting a myriad of different feelings, both horrible and wonderful at the same time, wash over him in undulating waves. Harry finally gave in to what the universe had in store for him.

”Yessssssss….Unnggggh!” Draco groaned and thrust up, nudging Harry’s dirtied hand to dislodge it from trying to block his ass. Once Harry took his hand away from his entrance, instantly more sludge spasmodically splattered Draco’s crotch--complete with the icky sensation of the three effing servings of corn he’d eaten with his huge dinner the night before-- (Harry winced slightly at that thought. Then realized he was getting really turned on). This physiological unleashing was almost too much!

The quiet, passionate sighs of encouragement from the blond in his ecstasy somehow gave Harry’s body permission to just let GO!

“I want, I want…. " Draco was practically sobbing incoherently at this point, his fingers desperately scrabbling over every part of Harry he could reach. The-Boy-Who-Was-Beyond-Reason knew right then and there that he NEEDED it. He pushed with all his might and didn’t think about anything else but the incredible release being blown out his aching aperture by force. It was loud, and rude sounding, and somehow…. Extremely liberating! Letting go of all control was even better than he ever could have imagined!

A strange yet mesmerizing euphoria overtook him as he heard a moan of, “Yesssssssss!” And then he wasn’t caring about the shituation-- or even thinking at all. He only felt.

He powerfully bore down and there was a massive flood of frothy, watery excrement, some soft chunks gushing out in ferocious paroxysms that squelchily sputtered in a shot-gun pattern everything below him, gas that exploded out along with spray on their inner thighs, and one “log-jam” of firmer formed feces being pushed out along with all his other pent up…. Everything. It slithered along Draco’s willing and groin, settling in the cleft of his ass. Any last piece of self-conscious pride dissolved; He grunted like an animal in heat into Draco’s hair at the wrongness and the rightness of it all.

Draco was writhing underneath The-Boy-Doing-That in an unrestrained frenzy and it was reassuring and intoxicating at the same time; Draco’s enthusiasm and heavy breathing, clearly enjoying himself, was a HUGE comfort to Harry. The wanton Slytherin’s pleading chant under his breath, repeated like a libidinous induced mantra of: “Yes! Yes! Yes!” was music to Harry’s ears.

All he was really aware of was that he was harder than he’d ever been and ready to explode out his front as he just had out his back. Next thing Harry knew he was vigorously rutting against Draco. They could not help themselves but rub their slimy cocks together in total abandon.

“Look at me!” Draco implored again, this time more whiney and needy. Harry locked eyes with him and he met Harry’s stare almost defiantly, daring him to keep going to get them both off in this way and they gave in to thrusting against each other with all they were worth. Every jab and slippery slide was an explicit communication that they needed to continue—they were completely past the point of no return.

Harry took one look at the usually so tidy mussed white hair and into those heavily-lidded, glazed eyes and realized this was something special. No, that sounded “girly”. OK, profound, then? Staring at each other’s darkened pupils they saw unconditional acceptance; in that moment, they both knew the other had seen their soul laid bare.

(What the HELL were they doing?!?!) This was certainly something he would never even have thought of before the incident outside the potions classroom, yet he shared this ultimately vulnerable moment with his supposed arch rival? And in that surreal moment he truly knew in his heart that Draco would not turn on him later with a mean-spirited “Gotcha!”-- Or worse, use this as fuel for ridicule or blackmail material. Again, weird given their history, but somehow, really…. poignant. Perfect.

“I need to feel you!” Draco suddenly cried, and somewhat awkwardly started poking and prodding upwards around with his prick. Harry quickly grabbed the other boy’s length and drove it into his exquisitely tortured, prolapsed hole-- all the relaxation and pushing of his muscles made it an easy entry, already sloppy and slick from all the mess. The glorious, hideous MESS, Harry thought….

And they positively reveled in it through the rising steam!

Harry and Draco both groaned at the acute intensity of the friction that caught them both off guard. It was just WAY too good! Neither of them could believe how utterly amazing this felt. Harry wasted no time and began rambunctiously reaming himself repeatedly on Draco’s cock which was no longer the slightly pinked pristine alabaster it usually was, but sullied and muddied beyond all recognition.

The-Boy-Who-Was-Now-Shagging-Beyond-Reason pounded the prone blond under him into the pillows and puddles that lined the bottom of their boat and didn’t care one whit about the mess, knowing they both wanted This more than anything in the world.

There were squishy noises, gurgly gas was forced out on some particularly hard slams of Harry’s pelvis and a wonderfully icky wetness all over them when more molten squirts and streams of scalding shit descended down his colon and cascaded over them. But it only fueled the boys’ lust and desires more; it was all intermingled with moans and mews of pleasure and awe.

Just then, The-Boy-Who-Was-Beyond-Sane, angled himself differently in unbridled passion and the persistent nudging of his prostate proved his undoing. Draco sensed Harry’s climax coming on by his increasingly erratic movements and the clenching of his rectum. He reached down to tightly grip the bobbing cock between them.

It was all too much: Every tendril of magic was magnified; every nerve ending was on fire; every synapse sizzling. There was an impending super-nova:

“Oh my GOD!” Draco declared in a lascivious howl as he was being mercilessly screwed right about the time Harry squealed, “Fuck yes!” One, two, three thrusts were all it took.

Harry came first in a pulsing cataclysm of incomprehension and wild ecstasy all over Draco who was murmuring encouragement and expressing a certain zeal not yet before experienced between the two. Feeling the convulsing tremors of the muscles in Harry’s ass served to push Draco over the edge not a second later and he hurled his ejaculate deeper than ever before with a surging force they never thought possible.

And then Harry looked at him, really looked into his eyes, with everything he was feeling at the moment. Draco gasped in disbelief. Harry gasped in relief. In that instant, they both saw.... and they both knew….

And oh sweet Merlin, they were so sated! They had to stay there panting their husky exhalations into the cold winter air, the mist joining with the cloud of vapor from Harry’s (still odorless thankfully) assplosion for quite some time….

~::::oOo::::~

After they both caught their breaths, the young wizards snuggled up against each other.

Draco was amused, thinking the caffeine in the coffee must have compounded the effects of the potion and told Harry so-- After all, the label DID specifically say to use pumpkin juice. Harry had enough energy to laugh weakly at that, but not enough to start thinking about the ramifications of what had just happened (only later would it occur to him that something a lot like love had passed between their eyes, and if he was entirely honest with himself, their hearts, in the heat of the moment).

“My, my, THAT was explosive. In more ways than one,” Draco remarked, eyeing the mess all over, but looking SO happy about everything. “This is absolutely wonderful, isn’t it….?” the blond trailed off in a sleepy after-glow voice, hugging his lover closer and faintly running his fingertips over the parts of Harry he could reach. Harry had a fleeting thought he wouldn’t be saying so if there was a smell to be had, and inwardly blessed whatever spell Draco had cast to address that one terribly important mood-killer.

He never wanted to move his leadened limbs from this exquisite embrace but was uncomfortable with them wallowing in his crap. He didn’t have the guts to pull back the blanket and take a peek like Draco had. But he could feel the poo all over them, drying and caking and starting to feel a bit itchy. Making his way back to reality bit by bit, Harry groaned, “We’re so dirty….”

“There are spells for that. Evanesco,” Draco incanted. He pointed his wand around, repeating the Vanishing Spell over themselves, the bedding and the boat. Harry was so tremendously relieved (and impressed) that Draco had researched things so effectively to handle the inevitable mess that when all evidence of his “craptastrophy” was gone, all that was left in its wake was utter satisfaction.

“See? With magic anything’s possible.” Draco looked immensely pleased with himself, but for once, it was entirely justified. Harry gazed upon him with…. what was it? Pride? Genuine affection? Tenderness?!? And what exactly was that foreign, gentle quality in Draco’s eyes that he had never seen before?

Harry was so gloriously spent and certainly too sedated to examine these new feelings too closely just yet. He just sighed and enjoyed the moment, even if his abs felt a bit over-wrought. But then one niggling thought bubbled up to the surface, “So, how did you know that I’d switch the flasks?”

“I didn’t.” Draco admitted, but at Harry’s incredulous look, he quickly explained, “I was almost entirely sure. I always get what I want, one way or another.”

“What if I didn’t switch them?” Harry countered, confused by that last statement.

Draco appeared nonchalant. “I was prepared for that. I take a hit or you impale yourself on your own sword. Either way, I’d get something I wanted, right?”

Harry muttered, “More like impale myself on your sword….”

But then registered shock: “You would do that again?! Willingly? On purpose?” Harry couldn’t believe Draco would sacrifice his own integrity like that! Would he really place himself in such a vulnerable state knowingly? And damn if that didn’t turn him on!

“Yes. I happen to be very self-aware and comfortable with my particular kink.” Draco replied haughtily. Rather cocky, Harry thought, for a guy who had been crying into his shoulder when he was in the throes of utter mortification only weeks ago.

“Ah, yes, you’re so enlightened….” Harry remarked with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Why, yes. Yes I am.” Draco replied matter-of-factly. Harry had to suppress a snort as Draco cheezily mimed polishing his nails on his lapel.

“Yes, you’re a veritable font of self-actualization,” Harry said dryly, rolling his eyes. He was thoughtful a moment, then asked more seriously, “So when did this epiphany strike you? You certainly dodged the topic up until Christmas…..and then after that, I figured you only wanted me to have to do That to even things out….To have something on me.”

The fair-haired boy paused a moment, then spoke, all hurried as if he had to act quickly before he changed his mind or chickened out.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I mean, at first it was terrifying, my worst nightmare—me in that state, YOU seeing it—a Malfoy not in control!” He shuddered at the thought. “But, something changed. After a couple weeks of agonizing, I realized how much the whole thing made me hot. I kept dreaming about That and it would get me all horny— I remembered weird stuff from my childhood, the fascination and twisted thrill of losing control in the worst possible way. And as an adult that time in the hall, especially in public where anyone could have caught us! And you. That made all the difference. That you weren’t so disgusted that you just left, that it actually got you aroused too….”

Harry blushed, embarrassed, “Yeah, I was confused about that too. I mean, why would something so crude and filthy get me going? It didn’t seem right. It was like I was turning totally daft…. Crazy for sure! I didn’t understand-- Why would That be sexy?”

“Yeah, well, NOT that I’m into touching it or smelling it or playing with it or anything nasty like that!” Draco rushed to explain, staring up into the sky—anything to keep from looking into possibly accusing, judging eyes. “It’s just all about the urgent need for that extremely forbidden, private form of bodily release, building the pressure and how good it feels after trying to hold back for as long as you can…. Kind-of tantric in a way…. “

“It ‘came’ to me one day,” the blond continued thoughtfully, “having to wait awhile for my usual morning shit. I got really hard so I had a wank at the same time when I finally got to the toilet—I figured that it was just another form of ass-play, base physical sensations and all that. And then I just resigned myself to the fact that I had a fetish.” Draco chanced a glance at Harry to see the expression on his face after that admission.

Not seeing any disgust or repulsion there, he went on, “Since you got off on me that time in the corridor, I wanted you to have to experience the same thing-- total loss of control, the feeling of ultimate double satisfaction, and of course,” he waggled his eyebrows, “me getting to experience It from the other end. It’s only fair. I had a hunch you might have It hidden in there somewhere like I did, and just needed a little unwitting persuasion to bring It out in the open and admit it.”

“Unwitting persuasion, my arse!” Harry muttered softly under his breath, more amused than angry.

Then the blond added more nervously, “Do you? Admit That?”

Harry was silent and contemplative awhile, and then replied very quietly in hushed breathy tones, “Yeah. I think I do….. Now.” He looked up into Draco’s eyes, almost begging for forgiveness.

“That’s wise, ‘know thyself’,” Draco said as he gave The-Boy-Was-Now-Immensely-Relieved’s shoulders a squeeze. Harry rolled his eyes again at this new and improved, ‘philosophical Draco’ yet couldn’t help but smile fondly at him.

“Admitting It to yourself is good,” the blond continued sagely, “Accepting and embracing It is even better.”

“I wouldn’t have ever known….” Harry’s mind was reeling in wonder. This all opened a Pandora’s Box of possibilities he’d never even knew existed. It was as if they discovered a precious secret of the universe and were the only two souls to share it.

“Like I said before, you just needed a push.” And he poked Harry in the tummy, which proved his point quite eloquently as it forced a wet, rattling fart out of his exhausted hole. That diffused the intense situation of their first serious, heart-felt talk quite successfully as they both couldn’t help but giggle.

“Mmmm….” Draco purred into Harry’s hairline as he slipped a finger between his cheeks to smear their mingled leavings around Harry’s still pulsing pucker.

“Mmmm….” The-Boy-Who-Was-In-Bliss echoed sleepily into Draco’s collarbone, savoring the feeling of his lover’s come and the last of last night’s dinner swirling around on his sensitive skin and not feeling embarrassed in the least. “…. You’re a pervert.”

Draco puffed out his chest. “I know I am. And proud of it.” Then, after a pause, he quirked a white eyebrow and asked, “Are you? Care to join me on the path to enlightenment again anytime soon?”

For his answer, Harry put Draco’s hand on his rapidly re-growing cock with a randy grin, “What do you think?”
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Crap! #2