Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Pairing	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2429 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Pairing
- 2-Afternoon
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~~~ PAIRING ~~~

“This is the second time we’ve caught you, Potter, spying on us and hiding under that invisibility cloak of yours. Obviously the kicking you received last time was not enough. We’ll have to take more drastic measures, it seems.” Draco Malfoy looked malevolently at Harry Potter; squirming in the meaty grip of two of Malfoy’s lieutenants.

“You can’t do much Malfoy. My friends know where I was going and too many physical marks on my body will make the headmaster curious.”

“Oh … I think we could find something that would evade both those possibilities, Four-eyes. Theo, go and get my potions kit please, you know … The one with those rows of phials in the leather case.”

“Of course Draco, I know the one.” Theodore left the room, ensuring that the door was resealed with the privacy charm.

“Whilst we wait for Theo, I suggest we tie Potter up to the chair. I’ll release my Incarcerous on him once we have him secure.”

The chair in question was a heavy, armless ornamental chair, which had been left in this storeroom because no one wanted to be bothered with manoeuvring it through the passageways.

As he struggled against his captors, Harry thought that the chair would be too heavy to lift by himself. Using magic was out of the question, because Malfoy had his wand. Resistance was nigh on useless when gripped between Crabbe and Goyle, but Harry tried his hardest.

Fairly soon Harry was forced to sit in the chair. Zabini sat on him whilst the two thugs forced his hands behind his back and behind the chair-back also. Malfoy conjured silken ropes and applied them to Harry’s wrists, locking them together and securing the ropes to the top end of the rear legs.

“Silken ropes, Malfoy. Ordinary hemp ones not good enough for you?”

“On the contrary, Potter. Silk is much stronger and it doesn’t damage your skin as easily, therefore no bruises to show Matron.”

Theodore returned, bearing the leather valise: “This the one you wanted, Draco?”

“Yes thanks, Theo. Put it on the table over there, please?”

Whilst this was happening, Harry was trying to budge the chair. It would not move a millimetre, so he tried to ease the silken grip on his wrists. If anything the knots grew tighter, threatening to cut off his circulation.

Draco looked round, more cords in hand: “One each for you two, grab his ankles and when I release the remaining bit of the Incarcerous tie one ankle each to the front feet of the chair … Are you ready?”

“YES DRACO!”

“Priori Incantatem Nullius Incarcerous.”

Harry’s body-bind was freed, but two pairs of muscular arms held his ankles to the chair legs, whilst Nott and Zabini ensured their permanent capture.

“Very good … Theo, you’re the wiliest one. Do you fancy impersonating Potter for a while?” Draco was pouring out a substance into a glass.

“Great! I’ll go and flummox the Mudblood and Weasel. Tell them a story about going somewhere secret with Rumbleguts.” Nott pulled a couple of hairs out of Harry’s mop and dropped them in the beaker of Polyjuice Draco held out to him.

“That’s the ticket, Theo. Make it simple and distant, please.”

As soon as he had transformed Nott took Harry’s glasses and went about his mission.

Malfoy returned his attention to his victim: I think more bare skin would be efficacious Blaise.”

“Right-ho Draco, how much?”

“The maximum, commensurate with his being restrained, of course.”

Zabini leaned forward, grabbed the bottom hem of Harry’s Weasley pullover, lifting it up and over his head, turning it inside out in the process and effectively masking Harry.

Harry could not see through the knitwear, and even if he could, without his glasses it would have been difficult. He thrashed around when he felt fingers starting to undo his shirt buttons. That was soon stopped by strong hands gripping his belt. Someone, presumably Zabini, untucked his shirt and Harry felt the cold air as his chest was exposed to Slytherin gaze.

“Do you want more, Draco?”

“Yes … I think so … ‘The full Monty’ is it called?”

A number of dirty sniggers greeted the Malfoy bon-mot.

Harry felt his belt slide through the fastenings and he was able to thrash around again.

He felt his pop button released by some fat hands: “You’re going to enjoy this, Potter;” Crabbe’s smelly breath informed him. Those same hands slid down his zip.

“I doubt it very much; get your filthy hands away from my crotch … Ugh-h-h”

The hands had just squeezed and pulled upwards. Harry’s buttocks left the chair seat to compensate for the pain, thus allowing his trousers to be drawn down.

Next came a tug-o-war, Harry tried to press down on the seat and grip his knees together to prevent his boxer waistband from following his trousers. Something tickled his armpits and he jerked away. That released his drawers.

“I think Potter should see what is going to happen to him, please Blaise.”

“Are you sure? You know how devious he can be, don’t you?”

“I suspect we Slytherins can be more devious. Let’s see his ugly mug, please.”

It was a struggle to get the taut neck of the sweater over his head, but Zabini swore and tugged until the task was complete.

Harry ended up with a mouthful of wool bits which normally he would have retrieved with a finger. He was left trying to capture them with his tongue and spluttering, to expel them through his lips. He kept his knees firmly locked together in order to protect what remained of his modesty. He glared at the smirking blond sitting opposite him.

“You seem to have a problem, is your mouth dry, Potter? Here have a sip of this.” Malfoy rose and held out a tumbler full of what looked like orange juice.

“No way, Malfoy. Who knows what concoction you’ve laced it with?”

“I’m afraid I must insist, Potter.” Malfoy’s hand shot out and grasped Harry’s nose hard.

Harry tried not to breathe and struggled against the gripping digits, but they held firm. As he gasped for air some liquid entered his mouth and another hand sealed his lips. Blaise massaged Harry’s throat until he swallowed. This was repeated for nearly quarter of an hour until most of the beaker-full of liquid was inside the green-eyed Gryff.

The doctored orange juice was quite tasty and, but for Harry’s suspicions, he would have asked for more. As it was he was beginning to glow inside.

“What was in that drink, Malfoy?”

“Orange juice mainly,”

“And what else?”

“Just a little something to help you relax. Now open your legs so we can see its efficacy.”

“Get lost; Pervert.”

“Tut tut, Potter. Still struggling against the odds? Okay, have it your own way.” Draco handed out two more silken ropes.

Just then Harry Potter was heard outside using the special word to temporarily release the privacy wards. Almost as soon as he had resealed the door a transformation began.

Nott chuckled evilly: “I met Rumbleguts, he told me he was going away for a couple of days and I was to keep out of Malfoy’s grips whilst he was gone. Little did he know! I used that fact and told the bevy of Gryffs that Potter was going with him. I even overheard the Mudblood tell the Scottish Tart much the same message; so no one’s going to be looking for him for some time.

Harry’s hopes of rescue fell to the floor. He felt ropes tied to his knees and with the pair of toughs pulling on them his knees came apart, revealing his full glory to an ogling Malfoy. Nott grabbed Harry’s tackle and pulled forward. The Gryff’s eyes watered and he had to move forward to relieve the pain.   Two or three cushions were pushed behind his back and a restraining cord passed round his waist.

With is legs spread wide, his arse cheeks on the very edge of the chair, Harry’s pink pucker was on the receiving end of the salacious Slytherins’ stares. To make matters worse an amount of blood was beginning to circulate within his hitherto relaxed member.

“That’s better, Potter; now you are beginning to get in the correct mood for our play-time. Quarter of an hour should see you fully alert.”

Harry felt horrified at what his body was doing and, closing his eyes, tried to concentrate on things away from his present situation. It worked for five or ten minutes, but the throbbing sensation between his legs became very insistent. His head was bent forward somewhat, by the pressure of his bunched up clothes behind his neck. Someone replaced his glasses on his nose, and almost automatically he opened his eyes. He saw that his prick was fully swollen, and his crimson glans was shining proudly on its end. His balls were hanging loose and seeming to move around independently as they manufactured his spunk supply. Had he been private, he knew that his fingers would have been working to release some of the liquid and gratify his engorgement. All he could do was squirm slightly.

“Finished you meditation, Potter? Are you ready to show us your very private self?” As you can see, you have a very attentive audience.”

“Get stuffed, Malfoy!”

“Not yet, Potter. Not until you plead with us to do it to you.”

“I’ll never do that.”

“We’ll see!”

Harry endured another half hour of increasing tension and his slit was dribbling precum. It was running down his straining cock onto his churning balls and dripping off into a strategically placed bowl.

“Why are you collecting my juices?”

“They make excellent lubrication for later on. Are you ready to plead yet?”

“NO! I’ve told you already,” Harry shouted. At the same time his penis contracted and a gobbet of jism oozed out of the glans-eye and slowly trickled down his stem to eventually plop into the bowl.

It was not a full ejaculation just an intimation of pleasures to come and Harry gasped involuntarily.

“Perhaps we can help you, Potter.” Malfoy had a quill in his hand, but not the way you would use it for writing.

He hitched up a chair and, using the feather end, began stroking the veins of the Gryff’s meat. The sensation was electrifying and another pearl of jism slid down to join its brother.

When the feather touched Harry; his pubic muscles spasmed slightly. Enough to make his urethra squeeze in and push a bubble of ejaculate out at the apex. The feeling was that of impending ejaculation, that breath-stopping ooh-ah feeling of almost completion. Only, because of the potion in the orange juice, he did not reach that completion.

A few more feather strokes and the moment came – only to produce another creamy blob looking for its mates. At each feather caress another muscle joined its spasming friends. At regular intervals pustules of sperm squeezed out of the empurpling pleasurer driving Harry into a miasma of salacious imaginings. He was panting because of his squirming exertions.

“Please stop?” he croaked through parched lips.

“Not until you make that promise.”

“No!” It was a fairly feeble rejection: “Please may I have a drink?”

Harry did not object when Blaise offered him more of the orange concoction. Harry felt the drugged part go straight to his paraphernalia, which started to manufacture more cream.

There were two feathers working now, one on his veins and the other on the edges of his mushroom. The ‘almost there’ feeling was continuous as was the trickle of liquid balm. Every muscle had its own private rhythm totally out of control of the Potter sex centred brain.

Potter’s bum had imperceptibly slid down so that now Draco could see the quivering orifice quite plainly. The sphincter muscles were winking frantically and the Malfoy magnificence was straining to enter the wanton well of pleasure. He adjusted himself ready to pounce when the trembling Gryff demanded relief.

“You’ll only get relief when I enter you, Potter. You know you’ll have to ask in the end. Give in now,” he whispered seductively in the green-eyed-one’s ear. Harry feebly shook his head.

There was no need for feathers now; just blowing on the glowing tool had the same effect. Harry was breathing hard and had his head bent down, so his own exhalations were sufficient to continue the process. The Slytherins ate dinner whilst they watched their shuddering captive semi-sublimate himself.

Draco had just finished his second helping of ice cream when he heard an almost inaudible “Please?”

Malfoy sidled up to the prostrate man: “Please, what, Potter?”

“Please fuck me, Malfoy. Oh please, please, please?” was the fading whisper.

“Are you quite sure?” Malfoy smirked triumphantly.

“Yes-s-s-s-s.”

“Not this time thank you, Potter.”

Harry’s face fell, and another shuddering almost-there squirt emerged.

“However, you can use this dildo to fuck yourself. If lubricated with your own cream it should relieve you in a couple of hours or so. Would you like me to start you off?”

“Yes-s-s-s please-e-e-e.”

Draco dipped the rubber dong into the bowl, making sure that it was thoroughly coated.

The minute sensible part of Harry objected but the sensual side soon overwhelmed that. He felt it breach his entrance and fill him almost to constipation levels. On its partial withdrawal the suction caused his prostate to rub along the not quite smooth surface.

“Ayee-ee-ee-ee-ee!” Harry shouted and one enormous fountain of cum spurted out of his pole.

“If we untie you, will you continue? Only after the forty-ninth full thrust will you be able to be normal. You must promise to let us watch you as well.”

“Yes … I … Promise.”

They untied the hapless Gryff placing him on a rug in front of the fire. He spread his legs and began a public demonstration of self-abasement. He was even more degraded by the Slytherin circle of masturbators, who, every time they reached their climax, made sure their splurgings landed on his body.

He was slimy, sore and shattered, and no way could he walk. They put him on a stretcher covered him with his cloak and took him to the nearest bathroom. There they partook of a communal shower, touching Harry everywhere and especially where he was most sensitive. They took it in turns to hold him up whilst one of their hands brought him to mewling orgasm. Draco had two goes.

“Now Potter, next time we find you spying on us, you will get fucked properly. We’ll take it in relays for three days. We won’t get tired, but I’m sure you will. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Malfoy.”

“Good … Are you able to walk back to your dorm or shall we carry you there?”

“I think so.”

“Very well – I’ll see you in Potions tomorrow. Goodnight.”

It took Harry some time to shamble back to the Gryffindor dormitories. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed. No one could see his nakedness under the cloak and everyone was asleep when he arrived.

~~~ MORNING ~~~

At breakfast Harry made excuses to Ronald and Hermione, inventing a story of a failed mission. Binns was in an awkward mood when they arrived for their lesson. He paired everyone off instead of letting them choose their partners.

Harry got Draco. They were assigned a seniors’ desk right at the back of the room.

There was a long perambulation; mainly a recapitulation of previous lessons. The pupils had long ago been able to look interested but let their minds wander to other more entertaining places. Harry sat gingerly down trying to avoid hurting his sore bum. He soon found that Malfoy had wandering hands, too. Whilst trying to stop a finger crawl up his thigh Harry looked round for help. They were isolated, at least from anyone who might understand. Part of the problem was that Harry’s genitalia were not quiescent and were anticipating forbidden delights.

The silent tussle went on, both with one hand on their quills appearing to make notes and the others battling for supremacy beneath the desk. The crunch came when a book started to slide off the desk. Seeker like Harry caught it in both hands before it hit the floor and attracted attention. That instance was enough for Draco, Harry’s zip was opened and Malfoy was mauling the Potter pecker.

“Just another reminder Potter,” Malfoy whispered breathily close to Harry’s ear: “So keep quiet or I’ll Levicorpus you with your hard-on visible to all the class.”

Harry felt that he ought to object, but the glorious feelings down-below hindered his action. Malfoy’s digits did not pump, they caressed and tickled, keeping the Gryffindor in suspense until a mind-boggling eruption happened five minutes before the bell rang. There was just time to mop up, zip up and look nonchalant before leaving for the next class.

It was joint Transfiguration.

“Now, as Professor Binns explained you are partnered with an opposite for this class also.” McGonagall looked stern, there were some sighs and when Harry looked round for Malfoy he saw him sitting at another secluded desk. Harry hesitated.

“Get along with you, Mr Potter. It’s not like you to be reluctant in my class.   Go and join Mr Malfoy, he’s over there.”

“Yes Professor.”

Harry joined a smirking Draco. He was already swelling in anticipation of further action and Draco noticed it.

“My, you are an eager one. Just unzip and let me in.”

Harry hesitated before sitting down.

“Is there a problem, Mr Potter?”

“No, Professor.” Harry sat and whilst he was opening his books, Draco opened his flies.

Harry hoped he was not called out to demonstrate. He was lucky that way. He was lucky in another way too – he came twice under the Malfoy ministrations.

Then it was lunchtime and they sat at their house tables trying to avoid looking at each other. What neither of them saw was the knowing twinkle in the Headmaster’s eyes.
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