|
The Ebony Box
Chapter 1 - "The hottest couple in the wizarding world..."
Draco shut the door and turned back to his mirror. He straightened his clothes and hair, which had got rather mussed during Harry's assault. Nevertheless, it was highly gratifying that Harry's sexual ardour hadn't diminished at all during the two months they had been together. Draco kept a very close watch on Harry's libido, and he would notice immediately if it slackened off even a bit. After a final survey of his appearance, Draco donned his sweeping black evening cloak and set off for the Slytherin common room. It was lucky he was in such a good mood, because this part of the evening was bound to be a real drag. Blaise was his partner for the evening, and she had organised a pre-ball drinks party, for which he was inexcusably late. When Draco got to the common room, he discovered Blaise and the rest of their clique had already comandeered the prime position in front of the fireplace. Dex and Pansy were standing next to each other in silence, not looking in a party-ish spirit at all. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, their massive bulk almost managing to dwarf the fireplace. Yet again, they had failed to find partners, and were thrown back on each other's company. A few other Slytherins were gathered in pockets around the room, but they kept their distance. Blaise had only invited the seventh-year inner circle for drinks, not any of the other riff-raff. “You're late,” she snapped, when Draco strolled over. “Am I,” said Draco unconcernedly. Just because Draco had invited Blaise to the ball, he didn't intend to let her order him about all night. After all, she was only his partner for the sake of convenience. “Here,” said Blaise, shoving a cocktail glass containing dark pink liquid into his hand. Draco looked down at it, and then grimaced at the others, who were already sipping at their Cosmopolitans. “Have we got to drink this muck again?” he protested. “What's wrong with it?” said Blaise. “Haven't you got any real alcohol?” asked Draco. “I mean, this cough mixture's not exactly a guy's drink, is it?” Crabbe and Goyle harrumphed their agreement, but quietened down when Blaise shot a sharp look in their direction. “And you'd know all about what real men drink, I suppose, Draco,” said Blaise nastily. Draco didn't like the derisive way she said that. Especially since he wasn't sure what real men did drink. Scotch, he supposed. That was what his father liked, and he had noticed Snape kept a bottle of it in his quarters too. “Scotch,” he said. “Sorry, I'm all out of it,” said Blaise. They glared at each other. This ball wasn't getting off to a very good start, thought Draco. The Slytherins were always sniping at each other, but they might make a bit more of an effort, seeing as this was a party. He sipped at his drink and stared around, assessing the group. Crabbe and Goyle were dressed in their usual hideous green formal dress robes - loyal perhaps, but sartorially uninspiring. Draco took a closer look at Blaise, and was pleased to note she had dressed fittingly for the occasion, in a deep mauve ballgown that flattered her figure and colouring. Dex was dressed in black, just like Draco, except he had plumped for a blue bow-tie. He was staring off into space, wearing a small, secretive smile that immediately aroused Draco's suspicion. Draco made a mental note to find out what Dex was up to as soon as possible. Then he turned his attention to Pansy, who had chosen a bright scarlet, figure-hugging dress that showed off her ample curves to full advantage. She was twirling the stem of her empty glass between her fingers, and looking extremely bored. Draco knocked back the rest of his cocktail in as manly a fashion as possible, and put his glass down on the mantelpiece. “Come on, then,” he said to the rest of them. “Let's go to the ball. It can't be any more dreary than hanging round this morgue with you lot.” Blaise scowled at him, but the others didn't even react to his jibe. Draco held out his arm to Blaise, and she took it ungraciously. Her fingers found his bare wrist and she dug her sharp, pointed nails into his skin. Draco only just managed to stop himself squeaking with pain. He took revenge by stepping on the hem of Blaise's gown as they passed through the house door. “Oops, sorry,” he said unrepentantly, when she tripped. He took the opportunity to lean over and whisper in her ear. “Temper, Blaise. Don't make a show of me, or I'll make you regret it,” he warned. Blaise pursed her lips for a moment. Then she plastered a sickly smile on her face. “Lead the way, Draco darling,” she simpered. Satisfied that Blaise was going to behave, for the time being at least, Draco walked her up to the Great Hall. The others fell into line behind them. When they reached the hall, the Slytherins found it festooned with shocking pink drapes, which had large, red, cut-out hearts stuck on them. The tables were draped with red cloths and had heart-shaped centrepieces made out of pink carnations. “How unbelievably tacky,” said Blaise with disgust. Draco nodded his agreement. “What can you expect, putting a Hufflepuff in charge,” he said contemptuously. “I'll bet that colour-blind tosser Finch-Fletchley was the one who chose the decorations.” Justin Finch-Fletchley was head boy that year, and he had come up with the idea to throw a Valentine Ball for fourth years up, then talked Dumbledore into letting him organise it. Justin intended this to be a more decorous affair than the Yule Ball, which was more of a glorified piss-up than a formal event these days. He had even ruled that couples were to dance in pairs, to 'proper' traditional music. The latest gossip went that head girl Morag McDougal, a Ravenclaw, was far from happy about the way Justin had been throwing his weight around in the past few weeks. “Let's get a table,” said Draco. He found them one right by the dancefloor, which had a good view of the whole hall, including the main door. Draco wanted to keep an eye on Harry when he arrived. None of the Gryffindor seventh-years had come in yet, probably because Harry had made them all late. Draco made a big show of pulling out a chair for Blaise and waving her into it. She put her fake smile back on, and fluttered her eyelashes girlishly, while he played the gentleman. “I'm going to have a wander, find some drinks,” said Dex. He was craning his head in all directions, apparently looking for someone. “I might as well come with you,” said Pansy, whose eyes were roving too. They went off to the drinks table, and Crabbe and Goyle trailed after them. “That relationship's dead,” observed Blaise. “They're both on the prowl tonight.” “Crabbe and Goyle? You noticed that too?” “Har har. You know who I mean. And yes, of course I noticed,” said Blaise, giving Draco a significant look. “I notice a whole lot. You'd be surprised, all the things I notice.” What on earth did that mean, Draco wondered. “So you must be on the hunt for fresh blood yourself tonight,” he commented. “You and Lavender aren't an item any more, are you?” “Oh, Lavender was just a fling,” shrugged Blaise. “Dumped you, did she?” “She did not! No one dumps anyone when it's only a fling,” said Blaise, turning away to rummage in her evening bag. She withdrew a hip flask and a single glass from it. “Drinking alone?” asked Draco pointedly. “Oh alright, you can have some too,” said Blaise. She got another glass out of her bag, which was not that large. Draco supposed it must be charmed to hold more than it appeared. Blaise poured out the drinks under the table, so the teachers wouldn't realise they had alcohol. Then she tucked her hipflask away and passed Draco a glass. “What is it?” asked Draco. “Don't you recognise Scotch, Draco?” said Blaise. “I thought it was your favourite.” “Hmph,” said Draco. “You said you didn't have any.” “I lied,” said Blaise. “I'm surprised you didn't work that out, seeing as you're such a liar yourself.” “What the hell do you mean?!” said Draco, but Blaise wasn't listening. “When's this ball going to start?” she complained. “I suppose Dumbledore's waiting for the Gryffindors to get here. Typical of him to show favouritism - I bet he would have started without us.” Draco had thought better by now of challenging Blaise about the lying slur. So he merely grunted his assent to her last remark. There was a sudden hubbub of noise at the door, and everyone turned to look, including Draco. “There they are at last,” said Blaise. “About bloody time too. Trust the Gryffindors to make a big entrance, the show-offs.” “Hmm,” said Draco non-commitally. He was trying to watch Harry, without making it obvious. Harry looked extremely handsome, in his usual dishevelled way. His dark red dress cloak suited him well, but it was hanging awry, and his bow tie was crooked. And he had been in too much of a rush to brush his hair. Draco hid a smile behind the rim of his glass. “Potter looks a right old state,” said Blaise. “Someone needs to take that boy in hand - wouldn't you agree, Draco?” Blaise turned to give him a malicious grin, then looked back at the door. Draco just about managed not to choke on his drink. What the hell was Blaise insinuating? Did she know something about him and - “Oh dear, and what on earth has Lavender got on,” drawled Blaise. “Is she in mourning, or did someone turn her into a vampire without anyone realising.” Draco was still trying to work out the significance of Blaise's comment about Harry. But he forced himself to focus on Lavender, who was wearing a long black dress with flowing sleeves and a high neck. A woman about 20 years older - someone with the dark, statuesque presence of, say, Sally - could probably carry it off. But on Lavender, with her elfin figure and crown of springy blond curls, it looked totally ridiculous. “Yeah, what a fright,” said Draco, making himself sound offhand. Luckily, Blaise was now in full-on bitching mode, and wasn't paying him much attention. “Lavender looks even dowdier than Granger, and that's saying something,” she continued. “Fancy wearing a brown dress to a ball. And I'm sure I've seen her wear it before.” Draco felt this was a little unfair. Hermione really looked quite fetching in that gown, which showed off her figure to advantage. Ron Weasley obviously thought so, because he couldn't take his eyes off her. But Draco decided to keep his favourable opinion about Hermione's appearance to himself. He didn't think it wise to fall out with Blaise, not until he'd worked out exactly what she knew about Harry. Luckily, Dumbledore chose this moment to address his students and formally open the ball. Draco didn't bother listening to the speech, which he was sure would be as trite as all the others he had heard headmaster make over the years. Instead, he surreptitiously watched Harry, who was standing a little too close to his ball partner for Draco's liking. Draco's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the pretty sixth-year, Sophie Bell, whom Harry had invited to the ball. Sophie had a Muggle boyfriend back home, and didn't want a real date, so Harry had chivalrously offered to partner her 'as a friend' for the evening. “What's up with Granger and Patil, gossiping away to each other like a pair of fishwives?” said Blaise. “They're not listening to a word of the speech - and look, Weasel's getting really cross about being ignored.” Draco tried to tune her out. He was sure that Harry's and Sophie's arms were touching as they stood side by side, heads inclined politely towards Dumbledore. The headmaster was now bumbling on about Justin, praising his initiative in organising the ball. Then he asked Justin and Morag to open the dancing with their respective partners. Morag, whose face was thunderous, presumably because Justin was getting all the credit for the ball, stepped forward with Terry Boot. Meanwhile, Justin led his partner, Ginny Weasley, onto the dancefloor. Draco watched the two couples circle the floor, and was irritated to note that Justin was almost as good a dancer as he was himself. He must have had private lessons too. Draco was aware that Justin's family was rich, and quite important in the Muggle world. Maybe this was what had attracted the poverty-stricken Weaselette. Everyone knew Justin had laid siege to her for ages, before she finally gave in and began dating him at the start of this term. But Draco was more interested in what was happening off the dancefloor, among Harry and the other Gryffindors. The Weasel had asked Hermione to dance, but she refused and dragged Parvati off to a nearby table, where they went into a secretive huddle. Draco was gratified to note that Weasley looked most put out by this development. However, Parvati's boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan, simply shrugged and headed for the bar. All this while, Lavender had been hanging round the main door. She kept peering into the hall, as if she was on the lookout for someone. Draco had seen her walk in on Dean Thomas's arm, but he must have done a disappearing act on her already. However, Lavender wasn't completely alone. She was chattering, rather distractedly, to Neville Longbottom, who had turned up without a date tonight. Suddenly, Snape loomed into view in the doorway, wearing his outdoor cloak and his usual frown. Lavender was directly in his path, but she didn't move out of the way, just stood there gaping up at him. Longbottom had to reach out to yank her aside when Snape strode forward. He swept past Lavender without a glance. Draco, who had a fair idea why Snape was late, saw him make his way over to the headmaster, and engage him in discreet conversation. But then he didn't bother trying to lipread what Snape and Dumbledore were saying after all. That Sophie girl had leant over, put her hand on Harry's arm, and asked him a question. Harry nodded, with a polite, somewhat strained smile, and led Sophie out to join the dancers. Draco watched as Harry took Sophie in his arms, and began manoeuvring her awkwardly around the dancefloor. After a bit he leant forward and muttered something in Sophie's ear. Judging by the regretful expression on his face, he seemed to be apologising for his rubbish dancing. Draco fervently hoped Sophie wouldn't be so taken with Harry's self-effacing charm that she forgot all about her boyfriend tonight. Draco couldn't stop watching, though he knew it was risky to keep such close tabs on Harry's movements. Someone, namely Blaise, might notice what he was doing. But then Draco realised Blaise had dropped her running commentary on the progress of the ball, and was also concentrating on the dancefloor. He followed the direction of her gaze, and realised her eyes were fixed raptly on Ginny, who was still dancing, in a rather perfunctory fashion, with Justin. Now that was extremely interesting! The head boy's girlfriend must be Blaise's latest target, Draco concluded immediately. Blaise had a long history of seducing supposedly 'straight' girls. And it would be quite typical of her to try to ensnare one with such a high-profile boyfriend. Draco took another look at Blaise's sly, predatory smile. It was exactly like the one she had worn when she was pursuing Pansy at the Yule Ball, and when she was after Lavender at his birthday party... Suddenly, Draco felt a lot more sure of his ground where Blaise was concerned. “But they make such a lovely couple,” he sighed mockingly. “You're too cruel, Blaise.” “Who - what?” said a startled Blaise. “Finch-Fletchley and the Weaselette, of course,” said Draco. “You are scheming to split those two up, aren't you?” He grinned broadly at Blaise. She looked flustered for a second, then recovered herself. “I don't know what -” she began robustly. “Oh, don't bother, Blaise. I saw the way you were leering at her, and I know the way you operate. So are you still just best girly friends, or have you managed to cop a feel yet -” “Shut up!” hissed Blaise. “She's a bit skinny for your taste, isn't she. I thought you liked bigger tits on them than that. Have you really got a thing for redheads, or do you just fancy stealing the head boy's girlfriend...?” Blaise glared at Draco for a moment, then smiled back at him evilly. “Ginny's fair game now she's finally realised Potter's a total dead loss,” she sneered. “I am right in assuming Potter's off the market, aren't I, Draco?” It was Draco's turn to glare. So he was right; Blaise had somehow guessed about him and Harry. Well, it was pointless to deny the relationship. In this case, attack was the best form of defence. And thankfully, he had great ammunition to hand. “Weasley would be awfully upset if he somehow found out you were messing with his brat of a sister,” he observed icily. Blaise's triumphant smile froze. “As upset as finding out you're messing with his best friend?” she retorted. “Oh, you needn't worry. I neutralised that little problem ages ago,” said Draco. “And anyway, this isn't just Weasel's mate we're talking about - it's his sweet, innocent little baby sister...” Blaise was eyeing Draco warily as he laid careful stress on those last couple of words. She looked as if she was about to speak, but Draco jumped in again. “Of course, I've no special reason to interfere in your little intrigue with the Weaselette. Not at the moment, anyway,” he added meaningfully. There was a pause while Blaise weighed this up. “I don't really give a stuff about you shagging the Big Gay Hero of the wizarding world,” she said eventually. “Then it's hardly worth talking about, is it,” said Draco. “Alright, I won't tell anyone if you won't,” agreed Blaise. “Good, then that's settled,” said Draco. “Now shut the hell up, because the others are coming back.” Draco and Blaise turned bland faces towards their fellow Slytherins, who were making their way over to the table with drinks. Sophie Bell excused herself after two dances with Harry, and went off to join her friends. A relieved Harry then visited the bar to fetch a couple of butterbeers for him and Ron, who was sitting morosely at a table all alone. “Hi Ron,” said Harry, plonking himself down opposite his friend. “What's up?” “Not much,” said Ron. “Herm's having some big secret confab with Parvati, fuck knows what about.” “Oh,” said Harry. “Yeah, I saw them go off. They're just having a chat, aren't they?” “But why's Herm spending Valentine's night with Parvati instead of me?” said Ron plaintively “I asked her to dance and she said 'maybe later'. I wouldn't mind, but I don't even want to dance. I fucking hate dancing. I just thought I'd make an effort for her sake, because girls are supposed to like doing that stuff with their boyfriends.” “Yeah, but Hermione isn't just any girl, you know. She doesn't like a lot of things girls usually do,” said Harry. “Huh!” said Ron, glancing over for about the twentieth time at the table where Hermione was huddled with Parvati. “She's giving a good impression of being a girl right now, going off and talking about private girly stuff with her mate.” “Well, I wouldn't get all worked up about it,” said Harry, leaning back in his chair. “They're probably talking about you and Seamus.” “What? Do you think so?” said Ron, to whom this hadn't occurred. “Yeah, it's bound to be something like that,” said Harry. “It is Valentine's Day, so they're probably swapping notes on what presents they got.” Ron brightened up a bit, and took a slug from his glass. “That makes sense,” he said. “I got Hermione a terrific present?” “Oh yeah? What was it?” asked Harry. “Crotchless knickers,” said Ron. “Crotchless -? Oh, I see - I think,” said Harry. “Erm, didn't you already get Hermione naughty underwear for Christmas?” “Yeah, so?” said Ron. “Girls need more than one change of knickers, don't they.” “Um, yeah, I guess,” said Harry. “Sounds rather, er, practical.” “Sexy and practical,” said Ron. “Uh - right,” said Harry, coughing and averting his eyes. Ron looked at him suspiciously. Harry wore a faint smile, and was sprawled back in his seat, twiddling his glass between his fingers. Something about Harry's relaxed posture and cheerful demeanour told Ron he'd got laid quite recently. Probably just before the ball, which would explain why he'd got back late and kept all the Gryffindors waiting while he got dressed. “So how did you and Malfoy celebrate Valentine's Day?” enquired Ron, with a sudden edge to his voice. “Did you give him a heart-shaped pillow with your name on it? Or did you go for the cuddly toy option?” “Er, we didn't do anything special,” said Harry, fidgeting in his seat, looking a little less comfortable now. “You just had another all-out shag session, I suppose. Just like any other day for you two then,” said Ron. “Um, I guess,” said Harry. He didn't elaborate on his reply. Just straightened a little in his chair, glanced quickly at Ron, and took a big gulp of butterbeer. Normally, Ron wouldn't have pursued this matter with Harry. He avoided the topic of Draco as much as possible, because he'd prefer not to hear the sordid details thanks very much. And Harry seemed disinclined to discuss the subject too. Or so Ron assumed, because Harry never brought it up. But Ron hadn't managed to get Hermione alone to have sex today. He hadn't yesterday either, come to that. So some masochistic urge made him take more interest than usual in Harry's relationship. Besides, it had just occurred to Ron, and it rankled with him rather a lot, that he'd never seen Hermione with that kind of satiated 'just got fucked' look Harry seemed to wear permanently these days. “You're still having sex all over the place with him then? Not got bored of each other yet?” he asked. “Uh, well - not yet,” said Harry. “What is it, a couple of months you've been shagging him now?” said Ron. “Two months last Sunday,” said Harry, then blushed furiously. Ron gave a snort of derisive laughter. He was about to take the piss out of Harry for doing something as soppy as remember his anniversary, but then the significance of it hit him. Ron gazed at Harry with mingled surprise, concern and, it has to be said, disgust. “Harry,” he said. “You don't - I mean, you're not serious about Malfoy, are you?” “No,” said Harry at once. “No, course I'm not.” “Oh,” said Ron. “OK. Right, that's good.” But Harry was staring intently at the contents of his glass in a manner that left Ron less than convinced. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Course I'm sure,” said Harry, with a short laugh. “Don't be daft.” “Well, how come you remember the exact date you got off with that git then?” “I don't know. Er, yes I do, actually. It was the same day we played Slytherin at Quidditch last term.” On the face of it, this seemed plausible to a Quidditch fan like Ron. However, Harry was nervously swirling his butterbeer round in his glass in a way that made Ron doubt this explanation. “So what is going on between you two then?” he demanded. “Hermione says you're 'boyfriends' now, or something.” “Yeah,” said Harry cautiously. “Since Christmas.” “So it's not just about the sex any more then,” said Ron. “Not only,” admitted Harry. “I, um, well I stopped hating him after a bit. And I kind of - I sort of like him now. He's not so bad when we're on our own. He can be a really good laugh, you know.” “A good laugh?” repeated Ron disbelievingly. “Draco Malfoy, a good laugh?” “He makes Hermione laugh too,” said Harry defensively. “They get on really well now. Er, not that they - they don't that often - but they bump into each other in my room occasionally...” Ron glowered at him, because naturally it hadn't escaped his notice that Hermione and Draco were on better terms these days. Ron always cleared off right away when Draco showed up on one of his clandestine visits to Harry's room in Gryffindor Tower. But Hermione often stuck around, and she now spoke of Draco as if they were - well, chummy! This development was most disturbing, and Ron held Harry mostly to blame for it. “Hermione's just being nice to Malfoy for your sake,” growled Ron, although he wasn't entirely sure this was the case. “As far as I'm concerned, the sooner you stop thinking with your prick, and get shot of that evil bastard, the better for everyone.” “Now hang on,” said Harry, setting down his glass with a thump.”I know you don't like him Ron, and I'm not asking you to change your mind. But he is my boyfriend, so stop slagging him off in front of me, alright.” Harry didn't speak loudly, or even vehemently, but Ron could tell he meant it. Probably the wisest thing he could do right now was shut up about Draco. But, for some reason, Ron wasn't ready to let it drop yet. He took another slug of butterbeer, and continued to berate his friend. “Oh, yeah, suddenly Malfoy's alright, because he puts out, and he makes you laugh, and he's nice to you if no one else's around. Christ, next minute you'll be telling me the git's had a hard life, and no one really understands him -” “Well, you certainly don't!” snapped Harry. “I'll bet you don't either,” said Ron. “I hope you haven't started trusting him Harry, because that would be crazy. His dad's still a Death Eater, and -” “I've had enough of this conversation,” said Harry abruptly. “Either you shut up, or I'll find somewhere else to sit.” “I'm just trying to warn you -” “Well, don't! I can look after myself where Draco's concerned, thanks very much.” “I bloody hope so, because -” “Look, I don't want to fight with you, Ron. I don't even know how we got into this. I thought we never talked about Draco.” “We never had a rule about it,” said Ron. “Yeah, but we always avoid the subject, so I thought - look, can we just go back to not talking about him? Because I really don't want to fall out over this. Please, Ron?” “Huh,” grunted Ron. “S'pose so.” “Good,” said Harry. “Just one more thing, though.” “What now?” said Harry. “The bastard's sitting over there glaring at you for all he's worth.” Harry twisted round to look at Draco, who was about twenty feet away at a table with the other Slytherins. He was indeed giving Harry a vicious stare. Harry scowled at Draco too, then turned back to Ron, downed the rest of his beer, and got up from the table. “Got to go,” he said. “I'm meeting him in the garden in five minutes.” “Oh, so giving you the evil eye means 'fancy a shag' these days, does it?” said Ron scathingly. “How romantic. You two really are love's young dream -” “Leave it out, Ron,” interrupted Harry, and made for the door. Ron narrowed his eyes in Draco's direction, and looked as menacing as he could, but all he got was a triumphant little smirk in return. A few minutes later, Draco rose from his table and sauntered across the room. He took his time, stopping to say a few words to Pansy and Dex on his way across the dancefloor. Ron, who was following his progress, noted that Pansy looked most alluring tonight in a daring red frock. He became so distracted watching her jiggle around in it that he didn't actually see Draco leave. “Ron?” said a voice. “Ron, are you still with us, mate!” It was Seamus, holding a couple of glasses of butterbeer. “Thought we might as well get pissed together,” he said, setting them down, and sliding into Harry's seat. “Seeing as the girls aren't talking to us.” Ron took one of the drinks and looked over at Hermione, who was still in conference with Parvati. “Any idea what it's all about?” he asked. “Not a clue,” said Seamus. “And I reckon we're probably better off not knowing. Cheers.” “Cheers,” said Ron glumly. As soon as the dancing started, Hermione had pulled Parvati over to a table and got her to repeat, slowly and more coherently, what she had whispered during Dumbledore's speech. And now they sat, heads bowed closely together, in anxious consultation. “Sorry to drag you away from Ron when the ball's just starting, but I had to tell someone,” apologised Parvati. “Don't worry about that,” said Hermione. “This is important.” “But what are we going to do? We can't let her go on like this,” said Parvati. “I really don't see what we can do,” said Hermione. “Except keep an eye on her, and make sure she doesn't do anything too stupid. Or, well, anything even more stupid.” “But I think she's - well, obsessed!” said Parvati. Hermione nodded reluctantly. “At first I thought it was just a crush, but now...” “I know,” said Hermione. “It's this latest thing, tonight...” “Yes, that's got me more worried than anything else,” admitted Hermione. “When I went into her room and saw - thank goodness she was in the bathroom when I dropped by, because I was so shocked! I know we agreed not to confront her, but - well, I would have had to say something.” “I wouldn't have blamed you,” said Hermione. “It wouldn't be so bad if she'd fallen for someone else - anyone else, really...” “Well, hacking into a desk with a knife is wrong, no matter whose name you're writing there,” said Hermione severely. “Apart from anything else, it's vandalism of school property.” “Um, well yeah,” said Parvati. “But still - when I saw that name...!” Both girls shuddered, and pulled disgusted faces. “Mrs - Lavender - Snape!” intoned Parvati. They sat in silence for a moment, contemplating their friend's quite unbelievable folly. “Snape, of all people,” said Hermione, shaking her head. “I think she's gone mad. He's so - hideous!” said Parvati. “Mind you, Lavender's always had appalling taste,” said Hermione. “I suppose,” agreed Parvati. “I always did think it was strange, all those Slytherins. Dex, Pansy, Blaise...” “Anyone would think she was on a mission to sleep with everyone in Slytherin house,” said Hermione disapprovingly. “When you look at it like that, she was bound to get round to Snape sooner or later.” “I really hoped she'd get together with Dean after that, uh - that night, you know?” “The Slytherin orgy night?” “Yes,” said Parvati with a blush. “She was quite keen for him to join in, and he was all for it too. I really thought they might start going out.” “It is a shame. But I guess a nice, straightforward guy like Dean wouldn't seem exciting enough for Lavender,” said Hermione. Oh God, look! Snape's arrived,” said Parvati. The girls watched with bated breath as Snape entered the hall and strode past Lavender, seemingly without noticing her. Lavender stared after the professor with a crestfallen expression. “Wonder why Snape's so late,” said Parvati. “He's been to London, visiting the Ministry of Magic for Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “How do you know?” “I, er, overheard someone say so,” said Hermione vaguely. She, Harry, Ron and Draco were all aware that Dumbledore had been sending Snape to the MInistry on, as Draco put it, 'Voldie business'. Draco had also speculated Snape might have other motives for rushing off to London every five minutes, but Hermione wasn't sure whether to believe him about that. “I'm surprised no one else has noticed Lavender's got a thing for Snape,” said Parvati. “She's making it so obvious.” “Well, we are her best friends,” said Hermione. “I don't think it would occur to anyone unless they were that close. I mean, it's so ridiculous - who in their right mind would fancy Snape!” “Oh God, imagine the humiliation if everyone does find out,” said Parvati. “Poor, poor Lavender. What are we going to do, Hermione? We can't let her go on like this.” Parvati had said this same thing many times by now. “We've been over and over it, Parvie. There's nothing we can do. If we try to confront her, we'll only alienate her.” And the conversation went round in a circle, as Hermione and Parvati discussed yet again what they should do about their friend's inexplicable fascination with the Potions master. But no matter how long they talked, they couldn't think of a way to put a stop to it. Eventually, the meeting was broken up by the arrival of Seamus and Ron, who had finally got tired of being ignored by their girlfriends. “C'mon girls, this is a party!” said Seamus, pulling Parvati to her feet, and giving her an enthusiastic snog. “D'you want to dance now?” said Ron, somewhat gruffly, to Hermione. Since Hermione wasn't likely to solve Lavender's problem tonight, she supposed she might as well dance, if it made her boyfriend happy. “Yes, let's then, if you want,” she sighed. Draco strolled out of the main doors of Hogwarts and looked around. Harry stepped half-way out of the bushes on the edge of the drive and gave him a little wave. He received no acknowledgment of his signal, but Draco began walking slowly towards him. When Draco drew alongside the spot where Harry stood, he slipped into the shadow cast by the shrubbery. “You took your time,” said Harry. “I was trying to be discreet,” said Draco. “Though I don't know why I bothered, what with you jumping up and down, waving your arms around in the middle of the drive.” “No one's around,” said Harry. “I've got my invisibility cloak, if you're really worried.” “No point now. Come on.”. “Where are we going?” asked Harry. “You'll see,” said Draco. “Am I going to get my present?” “Only if you behave,” said Draco. They skirted the garden, then turned off towards the Quidditch ground. Once there, they kept to the edge of the pitch until they reached the broom shed. Harry's pace slackened for a moment, as he thought for a moment this was where they were going. But Draco veered to the left, and Harry realised they were heading for the Quidditch locker rooms instead. Harry kept quiet as they walked, because Draco had been a bit snappish when they met up on the drive. Also, he was wondering for about the hundredth time what Draco had got him for a Valentine's present. They had been bantering light-heartedly about their gifts for several weeks, and this had led Harry to expect some kind of sex toy - not anything very valuable, let alone meaningful. This was why he had chosen the adult version of Ten Tongue Toffees for Draco. When they got to the changing rooms, Draco looked around to make sure no one was about, then got out his wand and whispered the Alohomora spell to unlock the outside door. He led Harry down the long, narrow corridor, with its familiar smell of grass and sweat, and into the Slytherin locker room. “Why in here, and not the Gryffindor one?” asked Harry. Not that he really minded, but neither of them ever passed up the opportunity for a spot of house oneupmanship. “Because I stashed your present in my locker,” said Draco. “Oh, alright,” said Harry. The moon was shining in through a long, horizontal window set high up in one of the walls, and there was just enough light to see each other by. Harry watched as Draco got a key out of his cloak pocket and opened his locker door. Propped up inside it was a tall, oblong-shaped object, wider at one end than the other, and wrapped in brown paper. Harry was so surprised he felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him. If that parcel contained what he thought it did... well, it was the last thing Harry was expecting. He gave Draco a sidelong glance, glad that the room was dim enough to hide his stupefaction. “Aren't you going to open it?” asked Draco. “Uh, OK then,” muttered Harry. He reached inside the locker and drew out his present. As soon as he had it in his hand, there was no room for further doubt. “It's a - you got me a broom?” he said in amazement. “Not any old broom,” said Draco smugly. “It's a special one.” “What?” said Harry. “But - Draco, why would you...?” “Open it and see,” said Draco Fingers shaking slightly, Harry unwrapped the broom, which didn't look special in any obvious way. There was a cardboard gift label attached to the handle with a ribbon. He picked it up and read it. “Nimbus 2000 Vibrating Broomstick,” it said. “Designed and patented by Sally's Secrets. Made in Hong Kong.” Underneath, Draco had scrawled: “Fancy a ride, Potter?”. “Sally's Secrets - then it's not - it's just a sex toy?” asked Harry. “Well, of course it's a toy,” said Draco, giving him a sharp look. “What, you didn't think it was a Quidditch broom, did you?” Harry chest felt a bit tight; he shuffled his feet, without knowing what he was doing. “Well, um, it looks like one,” said Harry. “What was I supposed to think?” Draco laughed in his face. “Like I'd ever give the Gryffindor seeker a proper broom,” he chortled. “I'd have to be totally crazy to do that.” “Rather than just sex-crazed, you mean?” said Harry. He examined the broom more closely. Half-way along the handle was a row of small buttons. He touched one and the broom began to vibrate energetically in his hands. “Cool, isn't it,” said Draco. “Want to try it now?” “Um, when you say 'try it' - do you mean that you - well, that the stick-end gets shoved up someone's arse?” “Well, duh,” said Draco. “How else do you think a vibrating sex toy works?” Harry regarded the juddering broomstick doubtfully. He pressed the button he had touched before and it speeded up. Another press, and it turned off. “Why don't you go first?” he suggested. “Don't you want to? It's your present,” pointed out Draco. “Why does that mean I'm the one who gets rammed by a broomstick?” “It's not any old broomstick,” said Draco. “It's been specially designed and magically adapted for pleasure.” He sounded as if he was quoting the promotional material. “Hmm,” said Harry. I'm beginning to think you don't like your present,” said Draco, looking offended. “It's not that,” said Harry hastily. “I mean, I really appreciate it and everything. But - well, it's your turn to go first.” “What do you mean, my turn?” said Draco. “Because I let you whip me first,” said Harry. “Oh, are you still harping on about that! God, all that fuss because it made your arse tingle a bit -” “It hurt! You weren't supposed to hit me that hard.” “I barely touched you,” said Draco, with scorn. “You're such a baby.” “Oh right, I'm a baby. And you took your whipping like a man.” “At least I wasn't squealing for you to stop, you wimp!” “That's only because I was far more gentle! Anyway, what you really mean is, you fucking loved getting your arse whipped,” said Harry. “What! I never said that!” “You didn't have to. I was there, watching you hump the mattress and cream yourself while I was doing it,” said Harry, with a grin. “Shut up! I didn't. Don't twist this, Potter.” Harry laughed at Draco's outrage. “Huh,” said Draco sulkily. “Don't forget how much dirt I've got on you, Potter. You're lucky I've got too much class to kiss and tell about the Boy Who Loved Kinky Sex." Harry was tempted to point out that Draco hadn't had any scruples about peddling gossip about him to the papers during the TriWizard Tournament. But he decided not to rake over past disputes. Draco was pouting in a way that always got Harry really hot. He edged a bit closer, and slipped the arm not holding the broomstick around Draco's waist. “Come on, don't let's fight. It's Valentine's Day,” he said. “You started it,” said Draco. But he didn't resist Harry's advances. Noting this, Harry dipped his head and kissed Draco's neck, and then his ear. Then he nudged a leg against Draco's crotch. “I want to play with my present now,” he said. “Come on, let me use the broom on you, Draco.” “Hmm,” said Draco. His arms had curled around Harry, and he was leaning into the embrace. Harry felt Draco's erection pulse against his thigh, and took this as a sign that Draco might be about to concede. “I really like watching you get off,” he coaxed. “You look so sexy when you come. Um, I mean, even more than you usually do.” “I know you're just trying to get round me Harry, and it's -” “Watching you is more fun than coming myself,” said Harry, sliding a hand down and slowly caressing Draco's arse. “Oh, that's it, you've overdone the flattery now,” said Draco. “Even a Gryffindor isn't that selfless -” Harry shut him up with a determined kiss. Harry and Draco pressed close together. Their kiss grew harder, and when they pulled apart, they were both breathing fast. “Alright,” said Draco. “I'll come for you, since you insist. Only as a favour, mind.” “So what - I mean, how are we going to do this?” asked Harry, looking down at the broom in his hand. Suddenly, the logistics seemed daunting. Draco didn't answer because he was busy tugging off his clothes, and draping them over a bench a safe distance away. He undid some of the buttons on his shirt, but then seemed to lose interest in taking it off. He looked at Harry's cloak assessingly, then he undid it for him, and scrunched it up in a rough, pillow shape . “Hey,” said Harry. “That's my - what are you - oh, er...” Draco had lain down flat and lengthwise along the bench, his legs crooked in the air and slightly parted. He used Harry's cloak as a cushion for his arse. “What are you waiting for? Get over here,” ordered Draco. “Uh, OK,” said Harry, taken aback by Draco's alacrity. He was no longer acting like someone who'd been talked into this against their will. Obediently, Harry stepped across the bench, and stood astride Draco. “Hmm, back up a bit, or you won't be able to move the broom properly,” said Draco, who was pulling up his legs a bit higher on the polished wood seat. When he was finally happy with their position, he grinned up at Harry and began playing with his own erection. “Christ...” said Harry. “Turn on the broom then,” said Draco. “For fuck's sake, Harry, stop staring at me like a half-wit.” “Yeah, sorry,” said Harry, and fumbled for the row of buttons, which were positioned about a couple of feet from the handle end of the broom. “Press the blue one for vibrate,” instructed Draco. Harry did so, and the broom began to shudder again. “OK,” he said. “But how do I - ?” “Brown one next,” said Draco. The broom shrank in length, collapsing the handle by about two thirds. The bristles now started just below the level of the buttons. “Oh, that's handy,” said Harry. “Yeah, now the pink button.” Harry started, because this was the most dramatic effect yet. The handle end of the broom transfigured into the unmistakable, and generously-proportioned shape of a man's - “Oh my God...!” breathed Harry. “Draco, did you know it could do that?” “Of course,” said Draco. “You don't think I'd agree to get fucked up the arse with a broomstick if I didn't know exactly what I was letting myself in for, do you. I tested out all the special features when it arrived last night.” “You mean - you've already used it - without waiting for me - ?!” “No, I just played around with the attachments,” said Draco. “Try the yellow button now. That works the self-lubricator.” Harry watched in wonder as the fake phallus coated itself with a sticky, semi-liquid substance. Then he met Draco's eyes, and stared at him accusingly. “You were dying to try this out all along,” he said. “You were just pretending to put up a fight about who went first, you sneaky git!” Draco laughed happily. “Yeah, it was all an act,” he crowed. “And you played right into my hands with all that crap about how you would much rather pleasure me. Well, bring it on, Harry...” “You manipulative son of a -” But Harry was distracted from his remonstrances, because Draco had raised one arm over his head, and taken hold of the side of the bench. He was also wriggling his hips suggestively. Harry hadn't been making it up entirely when he claimed to enjoy getting Draco off, and now he supposed he might as well give in gracefully. He rubbed his fingers on the so-called 'broom handle' to wet them. Then he leant down and slipped first one, and then another, inside Draco. “Ohh - that's, um...” sighed Draco, hand tightening against the bench. After a bit of this, Harry followed up his fingers with the 'handle' itself. He angled it the way he knew Draco liked, and began to make long, shallow thrusts. Draco gasped, and arched virtually right off the bench. Harry took one hand off the broom, and reached out for Draco's hip in order to steady him. Draco was fondling himself in time with Harry's strokes, bearing down on the phallus and using his hand gripping the bench for leverage. “Uh - Harry - go on -” Harry took this to mean 'harder, faster', and obligingly speeded up. “Blue - press it - again” panted Draco. A second press on the blue button intensified the vibrations. Harry grinned as he saw Draco's face screw up, and his eyes roll back into his head. It was much easier to appreciate Draco's reactions when he was fucking him by extension, rather than doing it himself. Although Harry was more than a little excited himself now. He was bending forward as far as he could without falling on top of Draco. Harry's erection tautened, and he felt it rub against the inside of his pants with every move he made. Meanwhile, Draco was wrenching at his cock frantically. His eyes were open again, but unfocused. Harry plunged harder with the broom handle, and took his hand off Draco's hip to open the front of his pants. He pulled his prick free of his boxers, and mauled it almost as hard as Draco was doing with his own. Draco was making small whimpers, and bucking his hips, as he approached orgasm. He twisted his cock, just a couple more times, aimed it at Harry's crotch, and ejaculated. Harry gasped and swore when he felt the wetness on his hand and prick, and all over the front of his pants. “Aargh - you - bastard - “ he moaned. Draco collapsed back on the bench, breathing fast and smiling up at Harry in a satisfied sort of way. Harry wiped that expression off his face by dropping the broom, stumbling forward, and going at himself two-handedly, directly over Draco. “Harry, no - not on my goddamn shirt - !” He got no more than grunts in reply. “Fuck - Harry, don't - !” said Draco. Dimly, because he was too turned on to see clearly, Harry watched Draco take evasive action. Draco reached down between his legs, yanked the broom out of his arse, and threw it on the floor. Then he grabbed Harry's thighs and hauled himself into a sitting position. Before Harry could do anything, his hands were being pulled away, and Draco had closed his mouth around Harry's straining erection. Harry felt lips, tongue, suction. He had to grab for Draco's head to stop himself keeling over. His fingers clutched at Draco's hair as he came. Draco swallowed, not stopping until Harry's convulsions ended. Then he slowly released Harry's cock. Harry was swaying dangerously, and would certainly have fallen over if Draco hadn't been propping him upright. “What - mmm - Draco -” mumbled Harry. “Shuddup - stupid arse,” said Draco hoarsely. Harry thought Draco would probably be angry about his shirt almost getting doused in come, and was all ready to counter with complaints about the state of his pants. However, when Draco tilted back his head that flushed, sated smile was back on his face. Harry gave him a big, tired grin in return. But then the boys heard a noise that made them stiffen in shock. There were footsteps, and muffled voices, right outside the building. The entrance door to the Quidditch block clanged open. “Oh shit...!” whispered Draco. “Quick!” said Harry, scrambling off the bench. “Invisibility cloak -” Draco jumped up too, and scrabbled around for his clothes. Harry picked up his evening cloak and searched the inside pocket. Two sets of footsteps were making their way down the corridor. “Got it,” said Harry, shaking out his invisibility cloak. “Wait, broom,” hissed Draco. He bent down and pressed a black button, instantly transfiguring the sex toy back into the shape of an ordinary broom. Draco kicked it under the bench where it wouldn't be noticed. “Slytherin locker room, this way,” drawled a voice from along the hall. “Yeah, alright,” said another, softer voice. Harry and Draco recognised them straight away. “What the - ?” began Harry. “Never mind - cloak!” whispered Draco urgently. Harry remembered Draco's shoes at almost the last second, and picked them up. Then he pulled Draco back against the lockers lining one of the walls, and threw his cloak over their heads. They stood as still as possible, trying to quieten their breathing. The door opened, and a figure entered: Dex. And then another: Dean. The door swung shut behind the arrivals. They stood close together, looking but not touching, for a moment. Then, so suddenly it made Harry jump, the two boys made a grab for each other, and began tussling aggressively. Their mouths clamped together, and they ripped at each other's clothes. Cloaks, shirts and then pants began falling to the floor. Harry, stunned, let his mouth drop open. He felt Draco's hand close around his arm, and grip it warningly. They both watched as Dean and Dex pulled apart, and stared at each other. “Ready, Thomas,” said Dex, in a heavily seductive tone. “Yeah, ready,” said Dean, sounding a bit nervous. “You know the word,” said Dex. “Yeah, I know it,” said Dean. Dex leered at him, and began to advance. Dean swallowed audibly and began to retreat towards the nearest wall, which luckily wasn't the one where Harry and Draco were standing. Dean's back hit the wall and his arms fell flat against it. Dex grabbed Dean's hands, and hoisted them above their heads, where there were a row of clothes pegs. “Hold on to one of those,” ordered Dex, stepping back and retrieving his wand from the floor. Dean obeyed, silently. “Tetherum”, said Dex. This variation on a binding spell conjured up a rope, which coiled itself around Dean's wrists, and tied them to the peg he was holding. “Lubricatus,” said Dex. Nothing appeared to happen that time, but Harry could easily guess what that spell did. Fascinated despite himself, he watched Dex move forward, take hold of Dean's hips, and swing him off the ground. Dean, now hanging freely from the peg, wrapped his legs around Dex's waist. The boys struggled for several seconds while they manoeuvred themselves into position. Finally, Dean was splayed securely against the wall, and Dex stood between the other boy's legs and began to thrust. Grunts and pants began to fill the room - “Fucking - hell...!” mouthed Harry, now so mesmerized that he took a while to notice that Draco had let go of his arm and was putting on his clothes very fast. “Shoes,” whispered Draco sharply. Harry handed them over one by one, and rested his free hand on Draco's shoulder to balance him as he bent down to shove them on his feet. But all the while, he never took his eyes off the action on the other side of the room. Draco had to shake Harry twice to get his attention when he was dressed and ready to leave. Regretfully, Harry did up his own pants, shrugged on his evening cloak, and followed Draco to the door. He cast one last, backwards glance at Dean and Dex, still humping away with enthusiasm, before he left the locker room. Draco eased the door shut behind them, and they slipped down the corridor. Once they got out of the building, Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak, and stuffed it back in his pocket. Without waiting, Draco strode off towards the Quidditch pitch, so fast Harry had to trot to catch up. “Wow, can you believe it!” said Harry, when he was sure they were out of earshot. “Dean and Dex - I'd never have guessed, would you?” “Hmph!” said Draco. “How long do you think they've been doing it? Oh, since that orgy at Christmas, I bet.” “Guess,” muttered Draco. “They're pretty kinky, aren't they? Ropes, and hooks, and all that stuff.” Draco ground his teeth, but Harry didn't notice. “And what was that lubricant spell they were using? That looked pretty useful. We should try -” “Will you shut the hell up, Harry,” said Draco abruptly. “Why? What's the matter with you?” Draco came to a halt by the Quidditch shed and turned on him. “Do you even have to ask? God, the way your tongue was hanging out in there, I'm surprised you didn't jump out and ask them to make it a threesome.” “What - no! Draco, don't be stupid.” “I could hardly drag you away, you were so busy slavering over those two twats,” accused Draco. “I was not!” “You bloody were!” “Draco, don't be like that. I don't fancy either of them.” “Could have fooled me,” said Draco angrily. “Well, if you want to go back in there, and slum with a couple of complete non-entities, don't let me stop you.” “No, really. I only want to shag you...!” Harry tried to take Draco by the arm. But Draco immediately shrugged it off. “Draco, I mean it. I've never thought of either of them that way.” “You did just now, though,” said Draco. “I was just, well, surprised. I mean, two guys from the same houses as us, getting it on together too. That's pretty weird,” said Harry. “Yeah, and that's another thing!” said Draco. “Where do they get off copying us?!” “Copying - but they don't know about us,” said Harry. “Well, even so, it's still not on,” said Draco, who knew this was unreasonable, but was absolutely furious about it anyhow. “It's one thing us getting off with each other - we're special, but they're just - just nobodies!” “Draco!” said Harry. “You can't say that. They're no different from us.” “I can say it. I just have. We're special, and they're not,” said Draco, energetically. “They're just - they're just wrong together, OK!” “Oh, right, I get it,” said Harry, folding his arms. “I see it now. You want us two to be the only guys at Hogwarts sneaking around and shagging each other silly. You feel threatened because some other guys might be -” “I am not threatened!” said Draco. “Why would I be threatened! We're Draco MALFOY and Harry POTTER - rich, famous, gorgeous - that's special! Dex and Thomas, they're obscure and pathetic. Who cares what they do?” “Then why are you getting so worked up about this?” demanded Harry. “Anyway, I don't want us to be special. Why can't we be just two ordinary guys, who happen to be shagging.” “That's the most stupid thing I ever heard! Harry, you are special, even if it's only because you're Draco Malfoy's boyfriend. Get over it, will you.” “But - look -” “We're the hottest couple in the wizarding world,” said Draco, standing up very straight, and making a dramatic, sweeping gesture with his arm. “WE are, not Dex and Thomas. US!” Harry stared at Draco for a long moment. And then he started giggling. “Talk about delusions of grandeur,” he said. “You're such an idiot, Draco.” “No, I'm not.” “Yes you are, a real idiot,” said Harry. “Am not.” “Are.” “Not.” “Draco?” “NOT - er, what?” “Do you know where we're standing?” asked Harry. Draco looked around, and realised where they were. “We're by the Quidditch shed.” Harry nodded. “We got off with each other here,” he said. “The very first time. Remember?” “Course I remember,” said Draco, trying to sound casual about it. “Right here,” said Harry. He was smiling, and now he raised his hand and touched Draco's hair, tousling it affectionately. Draco stared at Harry in surprise. “It wasn't right here,” he said. “It was actually over there, somewhere.” He pointed and waved at a spot a few feet away, but didn't turn in case Harry took his hand away. Harry was looking back at Draco, head tilted slightly to one side “So you remember the exact spot, do you?” he said. “Well, those ash markings appeared there straight afterwards,” said Draco defensively. “They turned out to be quite important, if you recall.” Harry leant forward, and slipped his arms round Draco. He gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “But you mostly remember this place because of us, don't you?” he asked. “Mmm - I s'pose. Getting a handjob off Harry Potter was also quite memorable,” admitted Draco, keeping his arms at his sides. “Even though you fumbled it horribly.” Harry laughed against Draco's mouth. “I didn't really do much at all that time,” he said. “I was kind of in shock.” “Yeah, well, you improved, I will give you tha - mmmm -” Just as Draco was about to respond to the pressure on his lips, Harry pulled back a little way and grinned at him. “I have good memories of this place too,” he said. “This is where I first noticed that Draco Malfoy is hot. Very hot. Hotter than -” Draco made an exasperated noise, grabbed at Harry and began to kiss him back. Author's notes: Vibrating broomsticks were not invented by me - I just read about them on Amazon like everyone else. Dex Flint belongs to Cassie Claire. Thanks to Slytherlynx, Kay Taylor, Tradescant, Vanity Fair and Sarvi. |
|
|