|
The Silver Chain
Chapter 1 - The Quidditch Match
In the freezing Gryffindor stand, Hermione Granger forced herself to relax her fingers, which had been gripping the fringed ends of her house scarf during Harry's sky diving antics. That was far too close, she thought worriedly. I know it's our seventh year and this is the last annual tournament Harry will play against Slytherin, but it's not worth dying just to beat Malfoy at Quidditch. Even if Malfoy does tumble to his death at the same time, which was looking pretty likely there for a second. "Mmmmm-MMMMMM! Yumm-eee!!" said Lavender Brown, who was sitting next to her. "What?" asked Hermione, startled at the lascivious tone of Lavender's voice. And at the equally lascivious look on her smooth, sultry little face. Lavender tossed her blonde curls and bounced on her seat in glee. "The two sexiest boys in the school, locked in deadly combat, willing to do just about anything to defeat each other. And wearing those lovely form-fitting Quidditch robes while they're at it. Isn't it exciting?" said Lavender. "It's just such a shame Quidditch isn't a contact sport, unless you count being hit by a bludger," she continued, unabashed by Hermione's glare. "Wouldn't it be great if they had to wrestle for the snitch, instead of flying around after it?" "Lavender!" said Hermione, appalled. "They nearly killed themselves just then, and all you can do is drool over their physique. And stop talking about Harry that way. He's my friend, remember. And as for Malfoy, how you can think that slimy creep is the least bit attractive is beyond me. He's a Slytherin. They're evil. They're our enemies. Remember!" Her tone grew increasingly sharp as Lavender's eyes remained riveted on the two boys streaking after the snitch overhead. "Oh, sure. I know. I'm a Gryffindor and I'm not supposed to be into Slytherins." said Lavender. "But it'd be worth being a house traitor if I got to shag Draco. It would be brilliant - a star-crossed romance, just like Romeo and Juliet. Draco could clamber over my balcony..." "Oh for God's sake," said Hermione, completely disgusted now. "Pansy Parkinson says he's great in bed," said Lavender blithely. "All those lessons in the Dark Arts are clearly paying off." Hermione turned away and looked at Harry, who was chasing the snitch again. OK, so Harry does look pretty cute with his face all pink and his hair in his eyes, she thought. And his pants are rather, ah, tight over his butt when he's leaning forward over his broom like that. But this is an important match and I shouldn't be getting distracted by Harry's personal charms right now. And even if I did, I wouldn't talk to Lavender about it. Silly bitch. How Lavender could think Malfoy worth lusting over was beyond Hermione. To her mind, the pasty-faced git couldn't hold a candle to either Ron or Harry. They were joint top of Hermione's Hogwarts All-Time Sexiest Guy League. Not that she'd ever tell either of them that. The Quidditch ground suddenly erupted into furious shouts and Hermione stood up, straining to see what was going on above. Harry and Draco were both flying one-handedly, their free hands grasping and pulling at each other's throats. Their brooms swooped alarmingly to and fro as they struggled. They were going to fall off any moment now. "Ooh, contact!!" squealed Lavender. "Shut up," yelled Hermione. "Oh God, they're falling..." Harry landed on the pitch with a bone-shaking thump, just managing to toss his broom aside at the last moment. Then Draco smacked down right on top of him. The two of them lay there for a few beats, before Draco raised his head. He had the advantage of the softer landing, but even if Harry had come off worse in the fall, Draco wasn't feeling any less murderous towards him. "You stupid fucking bastard," he yelled. "Me? You were the one who lunged for the snitch when I already had it in my hand. You cheating bastard," Harry shouted back, forgetting his aching body in his rage. "Don't you dare call me a cheat," screamed Draco, hitting Harry hard in the face. Harry reared up, pushing Draco backwards to get the space he needed to pull back his arm, and socked him in the eye. Draco yelped, pushed him back down, and they began wrestling furiously on the ground. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams began to land and were racing over to them. Everyone was redfaced and shouting, and a full-scale riot might have kicked off if Professor McGonagall hadn't arrived on the scene. The Professor looked icily calm but her voice seared through the fighting boys. "Get up this instant, Potter, and you too Malfoy. I have never seen such unsporting behaviour on the Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch in all my years here," she said in iron tones. Harry and Draco got to their feet. Anger was already giving way to chagrin on Harry's face. How could he have let Draco provoke him like that? Draco was still glowering, but he stood there silently, looking at McGonagall rather than at Harry. He's furious with her because she stopped him pounding me into the ground, thought Harry. "Go to the hospital wing at once, both of you.. I shall be following you, and if I see any more fighting there will be blood for breakfast. Do you hear me," she barked. Harry nodded and so did Draco, though more sullenly. "This match is suspended. It will have to be replayed next week. Now go to your changing rooms, quietly," McGonagall told the rest of the players. Everyone left without a word. The school matron, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, finished mopping up Harry's bloody nose and turned to Draco, who was developing a nasty black eye. Thank God for magical healing, or I'd be going round looking like Potter's bitch for a week, thought Draco. McGonagall swept in, still looking glacial. She nodded to Madam Pomfrey, who decided to deal with Draco's eye later, and swiftly withdrew. Harry and Draco couldn't help quailing under McGonagall's eye, wondering what punishment lay in store for people who treated the Quidditch pitch like a boxing ring. "I'm not going to ask you what happened out there because I don't want to hear your excuses," said the Professor sternly. "Or listen to you heaping blame on each other. As far as I am concerned, you were both equally to blame for that disgraceful scene this afternoon, and you will both suffer the same punishment." Please let it just be thousands of points from both houses, please, Harry prayed to himself. I don't think I could stand being put in detention with Malfoy for the rest of my life. I really will kill him one of these days. Draco gazed in anguish at McGonagall. She was the only teacher apart from Albus Dumbledore who could really intimidate him, but he couldn't help himself, he must say something... "Please don't put me in detention with Potter for years and years, Professor McGonagall, please!" he said. "Can't it be something else?" Harry turned to him, surprised. Did Draco hate him so much he was willing to plead with McGonagall just to avoid being in his company? He looked really freaked out at the prospect of detention. Draco's imploring eyes flickered and met Harry's for a split second. Harry had never seen Draco with that look on his face before. He blinked, and then scowled at him. "Well!" said McGonagall, who looked as if she might be thawing despite her better judgement. She wasn't exactly smiling though. "I don't think I've ever had a student with the temerity to dictate their own punishment to me before. However...seeing as you two seem incapable of spending two minutes together without fighting, perhaps a lengthy spell in detention wouldn't be such a wise idea. No, I think a 2,000-word essay apiece by the end of next week ought to do it..." The look of horror on the faces of both Harry and Draco did elicit a slight curl at the corner of McGonagall's mouth. "You will both choose a magical artefact to write about. I want its origins, its history, its properties, its potential uses, and its limitations. I want a bibliography and I want footnotes. And I want the essays by next Saturday evening. Is that understood?" "Yes," said Harry, resignedly. "Yes," mumbled Draco. McGonagall swished back out of the ward. There was a pause, then... "You fucking idiot, look what you did now," said Harry furiously. "I haven't got time to write a 200-word essay this week, let alone a 2,000 one with footnotes!" "That's right, blame me," fumed Draco. "If I hadn't said anything we'd be in detention together for eternity. Tell me that's not worse?" "If you hadn't said anything, she might not have given us detention anyway," said Harry. You just provoked her into giving us the worst possible punishment that wasn't detention for eternity." "Yeah, yeah, she would have taken a few points off our houses, given us a slap on the wrist, I'm sure. Give me a break. And, actually, it could be worse. At least we don't have to write an essay together. We get to choose our own subjects and everything." "Oh, I'm sure you won't have any trouble thinking of some nasty, rank, Dark Artefact to write your essay on. Anyway, my nose has stopped bleeding now so I'm off. I hope your eye really, really hurts." Draco, seething, watched Harry walk out the hospital wing and slam the door behind him. Harry was still livid at dinner. He barely spoke a word to his best friend Ron Weasley, who had missed the match - he was in detention for putting tickling powder down Vincent Crabbe's trousers during a Charms lesson. Hermione, who was aching with suppressed concern about Harry, was unusually quiet too. She couldn't talk to Harry when he was in one of his black tempers. Especially one that had been provoked by Malfoy. After dinner, Ron and Hermione decided to go to the Gryffindor common room. Harry just shook his head when they looked at him enquiringly. He couldn't stand a Quidditch post-mortem with all the boisterous Gryffindors right now. Even if they were all on his side, and would be only too happy to give Malfoy a verbal pummelling on his behalf. God, I'd like to give him a real beating , thought Harry, with venom. I'd like to shake his scrawny little body until he squeaks. He stomped off down the main steps of Hogwarts to calm down in the chilly night air. He didn't have a clue where he was going for the first few minutes, but then realised he was heading for the Quidditch pitch. Looking at the scene of Malfoy's crimes wasn't exactly going to help calm him down, but what the hell? He stood at the edge of the pitch, re-living the final minutes of the match. He had caught the snitch, he had held it in his hand, he had won the match, dammit. But Malfoy had tried to snatch the snitch away so quickly that no one had seen. Or, if they had, it didn't even matter now, because he had got dragged into that stupid fight with Malfoy, so the game had been scratched and would have to be replayed. Harry growled to himself. He went over to the Quidditch shed and looked for his broom. There it was. Someone, probably Ginny Weasley, had picked it up and put it away for him. And there was the box with that troublesome snitch in it. Well, if he couldn't duff up Malfoy he might as well take his frustrations out on the snitch instead. He picked up the box and his broom and walked out onto the pitch. Solitary Quidditch practice by moonlight - why not? He released the snitch and kicked off on his broom, soaring after it at top speed. He chased the little golden ball, which gleamed in the moonbeams just sufficiently for him to see it. Harry swooped and dived, enjoying the ride and relishing being alone on the dark pitch. He was starting to feel much better. He was so wrapped up in the thrill of flying after the snitch that he didn't notice a slender figure moving towards the edge of the pitch, stopping and looking up, watching him intently. Oh boy, he flies well, thought Draco resentfully. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him look this good on a broom before Maybe it's the moonlight? Or maybe it's because he doesn't know anybody's watching him. This must be what he's like when he really lets himself go, forgets about Hogwarts and all those hordes of stupid Gryffindors...and Voldemort, of course... Suddenly, Draco wanted to be up there too, flying through the cold air with Harry, duelling with him for the snitch under the stars. Did he dare? Harry would probably murder him if he interrupted his special moment. Oh, who cares? I'm not scared of Potter. I'm a Malfoy, Draco whispered to himself. He went to collect his broom. Harry was just executing a risky double-back in an effort to catch up with the snitch when he saw a figure flying towards him from the other side of the ground. The glint of blond hair gave the interloper's identity away immediately. Malfoy! mouthed Harry in shock, and nearly fell off his broom for the second time that day. He gripped his fingers tightly round the neck of his broom, and not only to make sure he stayed on top of it. He was furious - Malfoy had wrecked the match, caused him to get lumbered with a 2,000-word essay on a magical artefact, and now here he was swooping after the snitch as if nothing had happened. He looks like he doesn't give a damn about anything, thought Harry. God, he flies so well, look at that poise and control...Oh, bugger his poise and control! I got the snitch last time and I'm going to get it this time. Harry and Draco dashed off after the snitch, trying to outrun each other with pure speed. Neither of them could gain an edge over the other because they were too evenly matched, so they started performing tricky little ploys to get to the snitch instead. Without any teachers there to restrain them, they effectively threw out the rulebook. Harry forgot all about fair play as he tried an aggressive cutting up manoeuvre that made Draco lose balance momentarily. "Now you're playing like a Slytherin," shouted Draco in triumph, apparently not minding at all that he had been bumped almost off his broom. Harry didn't care either. He was unutterably thrilled. It was the best Quidditch game of his life. His cock grew hard as excitement overwhelmed him. And he didn't even pause for thought about that, even though the friction of his cock rubbing against his pants was slowing him down. He automatically adjusted his position and dived towards Draco. But his unusual stance on the broom made him miscalculate his timing and direction, and he barged straight into the other boy. He grabbed onto Draco's broom with one hand in a desperate effort to stay in his seat, but he was toppling sideways and his own broom was spiralling out of control. Draco seized Harry's broom in an incautious attempt to pull him upright again, but now they were both spinning towards the ground, faster and faster. They weren't even over the pitch any longer, they were heading for a crash landing over by the shed... Only Draco's inspired attempt to slow them down by reversing his broom saved them from a far more disastrous tumble than they had taken that afternoon. As it was, they landed hard in a tangled heap, yet again. This time Harry hadn't managed to fling his broom free, and even though he was on top of Draco, he took a painful knock on his thigh where it hit the stick. "Aaahhh!," said Harry. "Oooff!," said Draco. For several moments he was too winded to speak, so he couldn't tell Potter to get the hell off him, the clumsy oaf. Finally he raised his head to see if Potter was dead or not. Harry had his eyes closed but he was breathing hard, so probably The Boy Who Lived had managed a repeat performance. Wonderful! thought Draco, but he wasn't really cross. He laid his head back down, closed his eyes and stayed still. Actually, he didn't feel that bad. Harry's body was warm and felt kind of nice resting on top of his own. Whoaa, wait a minute, he thought. Draco, who often got unbearably aroused during Quidditch matches, realised his cock was still hard as a rock from his mid-air exertions. And what was more, Harry had a hard-on the size of...well, that was a surprise. It seemed to be getting bigger. "So, Potter, is that a broom in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me," smirked Draco. He'd always wanted to say that line. How fabulous to get a chance to use it on the great Quidditch champion, Harry Potter. "Whaaa..? Oh. Um," said Harry. He moved his leg, picked up the broom and tossed it aside. Then he realised that Draco wasn't talking about his broom at all. He gulped, and froze. "Don't mind me, Potter," said Draco, jiggling his cock so it slid against Harry's leg in the tender spot where the broom had been. "OWWW!" said Harry. "Oh, sorry, didn't realize my cock was so hard it was going to bruise your tender skin," said Draco. "Don't be disgusting," said Harry. "Christ, what are you doing?!" His head shot up and he looked straight down into Draco's silver-grey, smiling eyes. Then he groaned as Draco's hand, rooting into his pants, closed around his flesh.. Suddenly, he couldn't meet Draco's eyes any longer and he looked away, groaning, gaze unfocused, as Draco began to caress his cock. He was being so gentle, and it felt so amazing. Harry's body slackened and he didn't resist when Draco rolled him over so he could reach his own pants zipper. Suddenly realising how cold it was, Draco cast a warming spell around them. He didn't want Harry seeing his cock at less than its best. Draco's erection was jerking erratically when he pulled it out of his pants. He was so excited he could hardly keep from crying out as he pressed it against Harry's. He pulled at Harry's hands and dragged them down so they encircled both trembling cocks at once. Then he moved his own hands down and started stroking Harry's balls. He pushed his own balls right up against Harry's and moaned as they rubbed softly together. Barely conscious of what they were doing, the boys rocked their bodies against each other. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to hold his orgasm back very long at this rate, and from the sound of the high pitched breaths Harry was drawing in and out, he didn't seem far off from coming himself. Draco slipped a finger under Harry and slid it up his crevice. When it reached the opening, Harry arched his back and began bucking against Draco's body hard, and then harder, and then things got really wild. Harry started to scream "Dra....!"and Draco had just enough presence of mind to move his other hand over the boy's mouth to cut off the sound. After that he lost all sense of what he was doing. Draco allowed himself to drown in the moment, only dimly aware that he was shouting out Harry's name, just as loudly as Harry had screamed his, which didn't seem like him at all. He never usually did more than a bit of muted groaning when he was shagging his girlfriend, Pansy. Draco felt Harry's come hit his stomach, and he could feel his own dribbling onto his arm, which was still angled up under Harry. He relaxed his hand. And then blacked out for a bit altogether. It was a rude awakening, being shoved off Harry's body with such brutal force. Thought I was the one doling out the rude awakenings, thought Draco, irrelevantly, as he landed hard on his back, for what seemed the millionth time that day. Harry was already standing up, stuffing his cock into his pants, hurriedly zipping up. It seemed as if he couldn't get away fast enough. Draco was enjoying the view from down below but he realised he had to act quickly if he wanted to stop Harry just dashing off. "Harry, hey, wait up," he said, sitting up. He grabbed at the edge of Harry's pants leg, but he was too late. Harry slipped from his grasp and ran away. He ran fast, really fast. "Potter," called Draco. He heard a slight note of panic in his voice and shut up immediately. Harry was nearly gone anyway. Oh shit, now what have I done, he moaned to himself. On the top of the shed roof, Mrs Norris, the large, malevolent, dust-coloured cat belonging to Filch the caretaker, stretched in a satisfied manner and delicately licked her right paw. She watched Draco stand up, do up his pants, kick Harry's broom, kick his own, then pick both of them up. "Accio snitch", he called, and the snitch zoomed down into his hand. He disappeared into the shed with the Quidditch gear, then re-emerged, closing the door with a weary thump. Draco started walking slowly towards the school. He looked as if he was in no hurry to get there. Mrs Norris waited until he was out of sight before bounding off the roof and trotting over to the spot where Harry and Draco had lain. Her finely wrought silver collar gleamed in the moonlight. And then it took on an ethereal glow which grew brighter until it threw a circle of white light over the whole area of grass they had flattened by the shed. The light went out just as suddenly, and when it did Mrs Norris had gone too. On the grass there was a pattern of ashes, only about a foot square. There was the head of a lion, jaw twisted into a snarl. And entwined around its neck was a snake. Author's notes: I would never have written this story if I hadn't read Cassandra Claire's Draco Trilogy, so I feel I must credit her here. I love the way she mixes romance, mystery and comedy. I was also inspired by Slytherlynx's excellent and very twisted fantasy, Shatter, which was introduced with these words..."The only goal was to write something that had more of the bits I liked from other fanfics (smut) and none of the bits I didn't (fluff)." I am very indebted to Slytherlynx, who was my beta reader for the early chapters of this story, and has continued to give me support and encouragement ever since. Thank you again, Slytherlynx. |
|
|