Chapter Text
foe
noun: literary, formal — an enemy or opponent.
.
enemy
noun — a person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something.
- a hostile nation or its armed forces, especially in time of war.
- a thing that harms or weakens something else.
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sworn enemies
noun, plural — people who will always hate each other.
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opponent
noun — someone who competes with or opposes another in a contest, game, or argument.
- a person who disagrees with or resists a proposal or practice.
origin: Latin, late sixteenth century
ob ponere — opponere — opponent: 'setting against'.
denoting a person opening an academic debate by proposing objections to a philosophical or religious thesis.
Harry paused with one hand on the bathroom door handle. One foot in, one foot out. He could still leave. Pretend he was never there, act like he hadn't seen. Maybe he should just go. Seeing his sworn enemy sob pathetically in front of a mirror, had taken away all his desire to shit. Harry cringed at the other guy's shivering shoulders. The knob was wearing nothing but a white button-down shirt, streaked with sweat at the back, making it near transparent. His pants and his underpants lay discarded on the tiled floor. Robes and tie were slung over a shower stall. Shoes and socks kicked off haphazardly, pointing in different directions. The git was acting like he owned the place. Then again, he likely did. The Malfoys spent thousands of galleons in donations to the school, each year. Certainly explained why Draco Malfoy typically strutted about with his head held high, sneering down his nose at everyone. Thought he was better than all of them. Harry had never quite seen him ...like this. Sloppy and disheveled, unaware of his surroundings, wheezing in agony to the point of hyperventilation.
It should be satisfying, seeing the shithead who had made his life miserable at school, break down like this. Less than two years ago, Malfoy had been running round, selling merch with "Potter stinks" written all over it. Laughing him in the face. Look at him now. Pit stains on his shirt, probably smelled from all that anxious sweating. Harry stood too far away to feel the smell. He could see Malfoy's bony legs, his flat ass, his painful grip on the sink. Malfoy's wand was nowhere in sight. And yet none of this made Harry feel good.
He wondered if he'd feel better seeing Malfoy's crying face. If he was privy to the hot rolling tears, to the ugly crying and the nose crinkling and the pouting that was surely going on. If he saw the snot run over Malfoy's lips. Would that make him feel better? Then again, he didn't look forward to being exposed to the other guy's lower parts. Harry had seen them. Last year, when both he and Malfoy glanced at each other surreptitiously, while taking a leak at the urinals during Quidditch half-time. Harry hadn't liked what he saw then. Malfoy had an added layer of skin, down there... which he had to peel back while peeing. It looked like a snake shedding its pale scaly skin — not a pretty sight. Malfoy was butt naked now. If he turned around, Harry would see his prick again. And that was not something Harry wished to see. Maybe he should just leave. Find somewhere else to shit in peace. There were plenty other men's restrooms without snotty arseholes.
Malfoy hadn't noticed him yet. Harry could just back away, shut the door gently. The dipshit wouldn't have a clue Harry was ever there. He really should be going now. Somehow he still hadn't made a move to leave. Harry couldn't explain this to himself. It was like watching a train wreck. Or sitting by the telly to see a horribly written series through to the very end. Something like that, call it morbid curiosity, compelled him to watch Malfoy suffer.
It didn't last long: Harry's moral dilemma about watching this. When he remained frozen in non-action by the door for a minute longer, Malfoy made the decision for him. The blond looked up, and their eyes locked in the mirror. There was no turning back now. Not if he wanted to maintain the brazen reputation he'd built up over the years. Harry didn't want to give the impression he felt intimidated. He wasn't intimidated by the posh piece of shit. Besides, it was clear he had the upper hand here. Malfoy wasn't even wearing any pants. Harry took a bold step forward, into the men's, and the door clicked shut behind him.
"It's alright to cry." Harry said condescendingly, tilting his chin up. Adding just a touch of sarcasm, mixed in with faked concern. "Be my guest. Cry some more."
Malfoy's tear-streaked face was all Harry could have hoped for, and then some. Snot was definitely running past his bottom lip, over his chin. The shithead couldn't have looked more pathetic if he tried. This still did not satisfy Harry. And he did not know why. Perhaps if he riled Malfoy up some more, he might get a better reaction. But Harry's snide encouragement had the opposite effect on Malfoy. He seemed less inclined to cry now that he knew he was being watched.
His fault for doing this in a public restroom in the first place. He could have at least placed a colloportus on the door. Anyone could have just walked in on Malfoy bawling. Case in point. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the wand up his sleeve.
"You look better when you cry." He decided to add. "Sad face looks good on you."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes hatefully, bowed his head again, then muttered darkly into the sink. "For a good guy, you love hurling insults. Don't you."
Harry shrugged, uncrossing his arms as he ventured closer to the other guy. Man, he did stink. Harry furled his nose at the smell of Malfoy's body odor.
"It's my one bad habit. I'm allowed one. Aren't I? Next thing you know, people expect you to be bloody perfect. Just cause you're not on Voldemort's side."
Malfoy flinched when Harry shamelessly name-dropped the Dark Lord. Harry barrelled on like he didn't care.
"Sue me. Sarcasm is what gets me through the day." He eyed Malfoy's legs before peering more closely at his back, which was drenched in sweat. "What crawled up your ass?"
He should have guessed that was the wrong thing to say.
The other guy whirled around. Neck hunched as he glowered at Harry from under his brow. Malfoy was panting with barely restrained anger. His shirt was fully undone, but still covered most of his heaving chest.
"Mind your own business, muggle mum's son."
Now that was a step too far. Harry normally didn't mind it much when Malfoy called him names. He could insult Malfoy right back. (The "Potter stinks" comments had gotten to him, because the whole school was saying it back then. And that year, Harry had felt rather insecure about his own body odor — blame puberty. He had smelled rather foul. Before he found a deodorant that worked for the eight hours promised, without having to be re-applied. A blue roller aptly named Harry's odor control, wildlands. The one deodorant that actually worked for him, even after a gruelling Quidditch practice.) But he was not fourteen anymore. He doubted that people telling him he smelled would have the same effect on him now. He wouldn't be too bothered by people taking the mick out of him. However saying nasty things about his mother was an entirely different thing. Harry drew his wand, training it at Malfoy. In a deep tone he told him.
"Say another word about my mother, and you'll wish you were dead."
He meant it.
A bitter laugh worked its way out Malfoy's throat, as he eyed Harry's wand with an odd longing. As if he secretly wanted Harry to hex him.
"Hey Potter, d'you think we were better off dead?" Said Malfoy with a self-deprecating laugh. "I think we only keep on living out of spite. Just to piss people off. Seems to be no other point in staying alive."
The comment seemed such a non sequitur from what happened before, that Harry didn't know how to respond. He lowered his wand. Keeping his wand at his side, he watched Malfoy warily. The weirdo was laughing; shoulders shaking as the tears streaked down his cheeks, attempting to hold back giggles. Had his enemy finally lost it?
Malfoy did not bother covering up. And Harry's gaze dropped straight down to his prick. Which seemed to be in better shape than the last time Harry had seen it. At least now the skin didn't look so white and dry, as it had been last year. His flaccid length was a healthy pink color. Though it hadn't grown much in size, unlike Malfoy himself. Who was now a good four inches taller than he'd been last year.
Malfoy spread his arms, resting his naked arse against the sink. "Take a picture — it will last longer."
Harry grit his teeth.
"Eat shit, Malfoy."
The bitter smile fell from the other guy's lips. Replaced by a scowl.
"Gladly." He retorted. Voice dripping with contempt.
Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't meant anything by it when he told Malfoy to eat shit. It was just a turn of phrase. Didn't think that Malfoy would express a desire to actually do it.
Which gave Harry a silly idea. He raised his wand.
"Imperio." Harry said, looking Malfoy dead in the eye.
The scowl remained on the punk's face, even after he got hit with the imperius curse. Harry supposed Malfoy was fighting it. He would have, if the same spell had been cast on him.
Harry directed his wand at the bathroom door, and cast "colloportus." He didn't need anyone to walk in on him doing this. He could've placed a stronger lock on the door. One that wouldn't be broken by a silly first year casting "alohomora". But he prayed guys would get the message when they found they couldn't open the door to the men's room manually.
He pointed his wand at Malfoy. "Stand."
Malfoy stood, no longer resting his scraggy behind against the sink. The look on his face had gone neutral. No longer expressing his upset over getting cursed by Harry and made to do Harry's bidding. Just as well.
Harry smirked. "Turn around counterclockwise. Bout quarter of a circle should do. Face the mirror." It was a small bathroom mirror. Which showed mostly one's head, shoulders, and upper chest area. The mirror wasn't large enough to reflect Malfoy's full body. And Harry did not want Malfoy's private parts so prominently on display. Not for this.
Unquestioning, Malfoy did as he was told.
"Turn your neck this way and look at me."
Malfoy did. His ice grey eyes smoldered with an intensity Harry hadn't anticipated seeing in them. And the curl of Malfoy's lip looked impossibly arrogant. Almost like Malfoy was challenging him. Egging him on; like that face was saying — "That the best you can do?"
Harry bared his teeth. "Dip your right pointer finger inside your mouth."
The other guy's face expression remained unchanged as he did just that.
"Swirl your tongue around your finger. Coat it in spittle."
Malfoy flicked his tongue round his own finger. Drool dripped past his lips, onto his hand. Trails of saliva fell in dirty drops onto the cuff of his white shirt sleeve, staining it. Harry grinned, picturing how much dirtier that shirt was going to get.
"Set your feet further apart. Use your other hand to spread your arse cheeks."
Harry licked his own lips, as he watched Malfoy broaden his stance. Harry hadn't asked him to, and yet Malfoy was jutting his butt out. Since that gave him better access. He used his left hand to pry his ass cheeks apart, showing Harry his clean pink butt crack. His tongue kept on making squelching sounds as it swirled round his right index finger.
"Place your right pointer finger softly to the opening of your ass."
Malfoy withdrew his finger from his mouth. Ignoring the trail of saliva, as he brought his right hand down, close to his left. And placed his spittle coated finger inside his ass crack, covering his hole. All the while he kept on gazing at Harry's face. Malfoy's mouth remained half open. His lips were wet with tears and drool and snot. The look on Malfoy's face went from fierce and challenging, to dreamily concupiscent.
"Circle the rim." Harry commanded.
To which Malfoy moved his finger in circular motions. His eyes fluttered shut. As a deep breath escaped him.
Harry jabbed his wand in Malfoy's direction. "Look at me." He frowned crossly. He couldn't stand the sight of Malfoy escaping into his fantasies.
Abruptly the git opened his eyes. There was a strange look on his face. Harry's frown morphed to confusion, as he tried to make sense of Malfoy's body language. Malfoy looked... Malfoy seemed... hungry.
With strange hunger in his eyes he stared back at Harry. Breathing rapidly through his mouth: in, out, in, out.
Harry reached out a hand, (the one that wasn't holding his wand), and tugged Malfoy's shirt collar. Pulling the shirt off the shoulder closest to him. The fabric pooled around Malfoy's elbow, dipping lower still. When Harry looked down, he could see the edge of a tattoo on Malfoy's inner forearm.
"Relax your glutes." Harry said, as if the shithead didn't already look relaxed.
Suspiciously, Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. The guy looked way too relaxed for a situation like this. Harry hadn't ever tried using imperius for something like this before. But it didn't seem like something that would give the target any pleasure. Malfoy looked far too satisfied for someone made to do this to themselves under the imperius curse.
"Gradually move your finger inside. Keep up the circular motions. Just the tip of your finger is fine. You don't have to go in deep." Harry chewed on his own lip. "Stop when you feel any pain."
A soft gasp left Malfoy's lips as he penetrated himself at Harry's directions. He was blushing and the look he kept sending Harry's way, was positively obscene. No one should be having this much fun while under the imperius curse. It was unreal. Harry stared at him; more aghast and confused than pleased by what he was seeing.
He glanced down and raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw that Malfoy had managed to work an entire finger in. The knuckles of Malfoy's right hand stroked his ass crack. The pointer finger was wholly inside of him. Harry blinked away the dazed look on his own face, and shut his own mouth. It had falled open gracelessly while he was staring. He coughed into his fist that held his wand.
"Right, uhm, gradually move your finger out of your ass. And ah... lick your own finger. Suckle on it. Eat your own shit."
Harry felt his own face grow hot as he watched Malfoy do just that. All the while Malfoy kept lavisciously gazing at him. With a dreamy enchanted look in his eyes. A look that said he wanted nothing more than to lick his own finger, after having swirled it around his ass. And Harry felt all the more confused, because he hadn't told Malfoy to make such lewd faces. Malfoy chose to do that, all on his own.
With the way Malfoy was acting, it felt more like Malfoy was the one in control here. Even though Harry had him under the imperius curse, bewitched to do anything Harry commanded him to.
Harry sighed. What was the point of this. If it failed to make Malfoy miserable. Enough was enough. He decided to lift the imperius.
"Eximo." Harry cast, releasing Malfoy from under his spell.
He had expected Malfoy to stop. Maybe pull up his shirt, cover up his chest. Hell, maybe even reach for his wand and try a counter curse. And yet... none of that happened. Malfoy kept on sucking his pointer finger, eyes fixed on Harry. His feet were still wide, and his left hand remained on his buttocks, spreading them open. Almost like Malfoy was putting on a show. Malfoy raised a silver eyebrow, then licked his upper lip, keeping the tip of his finger inside his mouth.
"You can... you can, can stop now." Harry stuttered, watching the sight before him. "I lifted the imperius. You're no longer under the effects of the curse."
Malfoy did not stop. He began moving the finger in and out, in and out, in and out of his mouth. Each time the finger left his mouth, his fingertip was connected by a string of saliva to his wet lips. Harry began to sweat under his robes.
"Stop it!" He demanded.
When the asshole kept going, Harry reached over and grabbed Malfoy's right hand at the wrist. Yanking the finger out of Malfoy's mouth once and for all. Harry squeezed the wrist in his hand. Careful not to touch Malfoy's filthy fingers.
"Why would you do that?" Harry blurted out. His own face now inches away from Malfoy's.
Sweat rolled down Harry's back. The robes were too warm for him. The temperature inside this bathroom was too damn high. Had Malfoy turned the heating up? Which would explain how the shithead didn't seem cold, even while being basically nude. Malfoy was hunched over, slightly bent at the hip. Harry stood straight at his full height. In this pose, their faces were level. Move just a little closer, and their noses would brush.
Malfoy scornfully narrowed his eyes at him. "What, you never fingered yourself before? Sad little virgin."
Harry dropped the other's wrist and took three steps back. Moving fast, as if stung.
"I'm not a virgin." Harry replied hotly.
He was, but he didn't need Malfoy to know.
Malfoy shrugged, glancing nonchalantly about the bathroom. "Could've fooled me."
Malfoy turned away and washed his hands. Scrubbing them clean with plenty of soap. Splashed some water on his face, rinsed off the tears and slobber. Dried his eyes on his shirt sleeve. Then looked at Harry again.
Malfoy's shirt hung off one shoulder. The one nipple on display was a deep rosy color, with a smaller areola than Harry would have guessed. The last time he had seen Malfoy completely shirtless was two years ago. In September of fourth year, the git took to sun tanning on a balcony at Hogwarts. Wearing nothing but a long set of swim trunks. His chest looked more defined now, shaped with lean muscle. A dusting of white chest hairs covered his sternum.
"Have any infections?" Malfoy drawled in a bored tone.
Harry looked up to meet Malfoy's eyes. "...Huh?"
"Down there." Malfoy pointed at the floor. "Last bloke I did it with, gave me a nasty infection of anguis cutis. I'm healthy now. And I don't want to get infected again. You got anything?"
Oh. Malfoy actually believed that Harry was sexually active. That meant Harry could be carrying STIs, ...sexually transmitted infections. But Harry wasn't sexually active. And he hadn't been playing around with unsterilized needles. And he doubted he'd gotten an infection by accident at the hospital, from a nurse injecting him with something by mistake. So he quickly shook his head.
"Good." Without ceremony, Malfoy walked past Harry to the shower stall where his robes hung.
Harry raised his wand. Prepared for any action. But his foe didn't grab a weapon. Instead, Malfoy returned with a large vial in hand. The vial was corked, and filled to the brim with a dark blue substance. Harry frowned as he watched Malfoy uncork the vial, and poured some of the blue stuff onto his right hand.
It was gel-like, and more translucent than opaque. Malfoy coated his right index and middle finger in this translucent blue gel, then set the vial down on the sink. This time he angled his naked ass towards Harry. Pushing his butt out, Malfoy used his left hand to spread his ass cheeks. His butthole had clammed up again. It looked no wider than it had been, before they started all this.
Malfoy slowly worked himself open. Using the blue gel as lubricant, to help his fingers slide in. Harry watched, fascinated as the movement of Malfoy's fingers made his hole wider and wider. Till it looked wide enough... wide enough to fit another guy's penis in there.
Harry gulped, taking a step back. He felt nervous and uncertain of himself. Whether he should even be here, or not. Malfoy was clearly... going through something. He didn't seem drunk, nor under the influence of any other substances. But the guy had been crying before Harry got here. Then he had spoken so lightly of his own death, and how he had no reason to live besides a sick sense of vengeance.
"What are you waiting for?" Malfoy quipped, looking over his shoulder at Harry. "Fuckin' written invitation?"
He wiggled his naked arse. Swaying his hips from side to side. Fingers hooked in his hole, spreading himself open.
Harry put his wand away, concealing it in the sleeve of his robe. He slowly unbuttoned his school robe. Tugged it over his head, not bothering with the lower buttons. And slung his dark red Gryffindor robe beside Malfoy's teal green one over the same shower stall. If the git tried something funny, Harry would still have the upper hand. Their wands lay in the same place. And Harry had better access to that shower stall. He could reach it before Malfoy could turn.
Loosening his red-and-gold necktie, Harry worked open the top buttons of his black button-down shirt. He decided to keep his shirt on. He flipped his tie carelessly over one shoulder, so it wouldn't hang useless down his front. Pants, socks and shoes would stay on as well. He felt hot, but not that hot. The bathroom's temperature seemed more wearable, now that Harry was out of his heavy red robes. Besides, there was something... empowering, being the one fully clothed. While Malfoy was in the nude. Dark blue fluid dripping from his arsehole.
Harry didn't worry about staining his pants, as they were a dark color. A deep grey that barely showed any stains, and was very forgiving, even after hours of running through wild grass. His shoes and socks were completely black. Worst case, Harry knew a spell to remove bodily fluids from his clothes. He might not have done this with anyone else before. But he was no stranger to stroking himself to completion in the men's room.
Not bothering with his belt buckle, Harry tugged his fly down. Coaxed the waistband of his underpants lower, and slicked himself up with the same blue gel Malfoy had gotten from the vial. It felt warm and pleasant around his dick. And smelt vaguely of grape pie.
Harry held the vial up, and swiveled it. "Where'd you buy this?"
He had never seen anything like it, before. A wizarding equivalent of over-the-counter lubes found all over muggle supermarkets. Seems like these would be a household item among witches and wizards. And yet Harry had been to a fair amount of wizard shopping streets, even gone down Knockturn Alley a number of times. None of those stores carried stuff like this. (Ron Weasley had jokingly asked for lube once, before violently being thrown out of the Apothecary on Diagon Alley.) Which was a shame, really. This dark blue gel felt nice. Sure seemed more efficient than how guys in Gryffindor said they'd done it with their lovers: using vaseline.
For a moment Harry considered the likelihood of the Apothecary shopkeeper having lied to him and Ron. Refusing to sell them any lube because they looked too young. But then how had Malfoy gotten his hands on the product? He didn't look any older than them. They were all the same age. (Ron being older, by quite a few months. He would be seventeen soon. That was adult age, in the wizarding world. The Apothecary shopkeeper had no reason to keep barring Ron from buying adult products.) Could Malfoy have used a fake ID?
"I didn't buy it." Malfoy panted out. Still gazing over his shoulder, at Harry, as he fingered himself.
"You stole it?" Harry snorted, unable to hold back laughs. This was even better. "Who'd you steal it from?" Harry grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
And why did Malfoy go walking around with this in his school robes? Did he hope to randomly get lucky with just about anyone from their year? Walking the hallways on the prowl, disrobing in public bathrooms. Seeing how Malfoy quit Quidditch this year, Harry supposed the shithead really had nothing better to do.
Malfoy sounded offended when he huffed. "I didn't steal it."
Harry chuckled in response to that. Taking in the sight of Malfoy's flushed pink cheeks, the adorable frown of his silver eyebrows. The guy's lips were wet with saliva once more. And Harry could not help but picture that tongue on his own flesh. Licking his penis like a popsicle. He found himself hardening from the familiar feel of his own fingertips.
"Was it a gift?" Harry crooned, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. "Someone lovingly gave you a bottle of lube. To use on your bony hindquarters."
Malfoy glared at him. The guy's face was positively red now. Ice grey eyes narrowed in anger. Still he didn't stop presenting his ass for Harry to take. And so Harry did not stop lubing himself up, getting harder with each stroke. He smirked down at Malfoy, enjoying this.
He cast a look at Malfoy's bum, at his pink ass crack, blue liquid dripping from his widened hole. Something inside Harry's underbelly stirred at the sight. He approached and he placed his hands experimentally on either side of Malfoy's hips. Not pressing much, just gently lingering his hands over the warm skin.
"No, it wasn't a gift, you troll." Malfoy grit out through bared teeth. "I made it. Made it for my own personal use. And before you ask, no. No one ever taught me how. I read about it, in a book."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. "I didn't know you could read."
If it was any possible, Malfoy's face grew even redder with anger. "So that was you!" He exclaimed. "I should have known. Polyjuicing yourself into Goyle to interrogate me in second year." He spat the words disdainfully. "As if I'd tell Goyle any of my secrets."
Harry placed his right hand, palm flat on Malfoy's lower back, and nudged him down. Making him bend deeper in the knees. Then lined himself up with Malfoy's stretched hole. His glans lightly touched the knuckles of Malfoy's right hand. Harry let a deep groan escape his lips. When he spoke next, his tone was heavier, manlier than before.
"You will tell your secrets to me."
It felt more like a future foretelling, rather than a command, as he said it. Malfoy's arse shivered in response. He kept his fingertips hooked in the rim of his hole, until Harry's length slipped past Malfoy's fingers. Brushing them, as he entered. Malfoy's right hand slid away. Moving to cup his own right arse cheek, and help keep his buttocks spread open wide. Malfoy panted.
Harry tightened his grip on Malfoy's bony hips, as he slid inside. He felt a gentle warmth all around him. Slipping into a warm, welcoming cave. He met no resistance.
Malfoy sunk his head, no longer peering over his shoulder, no longer searching Harry's face with his ice grey eyes. Harry supposed it was too painful to keep craning one's neck. Especially now with him standing so close. It was natural that Malfoy would drop his head, face pointed to the floor. The guy was probably looking at his own dick.
For a brief moment Harry considered reaching round Malfoy's skinny waist, and... stroking him. Giving back some of the pleasure. Then he wondered why he cared about the other guy's pleasure. They were foes, Malfoy and he. This was just sex. Nothing lovey dovey about it. Malfoy offered his hole, and Harry took it. Not bad for a first time, Harry reckoned. Could have been worse; he knew from the stories he'd heard Gryffindor guys tell.
(Neville Longbottom had lost his virginity to Ginny Weasley in fourth year, right after taking her on a date to the Yule Ball. They had sex in Greenhouse Six, the one normally used by Hufflepuffs as a weed den. Using vaseline. Ginny had cried after they were done. With him trying to hug and comfort her, patting her on the back awkwardly. Neville hadn't taken her out, since. After one time with him, Ginny went straight to dating other guys, no looking back. She rejected all of Neville's advances with a straight-up "No.", no feedback given.
Neville must have been an awful lay. Now that's tragic.) This wasn't even close to the 'worst ways to lose your virginity' Harry had pictured. (Which included convincing Hermione Granger to suckle on his cock. Having a 'just bros, no-homo' stroke-out session with Ron. And licking Cho Chang's minge while she cried out "Cedric!". All very likely ways for Harry to lose his virginity.) So the manner in which it actually happened, wasn't quite as bad. Plus he got the added bonus of Malfoy providing him with quality lube.
But that didn't mean Harry had to be kind to him. A hate fuck was a hate fuck. No need to embellish it. Or paint it as some rosy romance. He started rocking against Malfoy's bum. Gently, at first. He wasn't trying to maim the guy. Harry's glasses fogged up, and he moved on touch alone, shutting his eyes. As he rocked in, out, in, out, in, out, in...
Malfoy was warm and wet and ready for him. Harry heard gasps, a few high pitched whines, and then...
"You couldn't handle my secrets, Potter. You're too soft. The knowledge would end you."
Harry laughed. Shoulders rolling with laughter, as he kept rutting into him.
"From where I'm standing," Harry giggled, "feels like, right now I'm quite hard."
Malfoy groaned. "Not what I meant." He hissed out between gasps as Harry kept running his dick through him, again and again.
"Don't you want to end me, anyways?" Said Harry, opening his eyes. He felt so close to his release. "Tell me your secrets and end me, then."
Malfoy panted. Both of hands were still on his ass, spreading himself wide for Harry. He hadn't touched himself once, since they had started this... whatever this was. (Well, uhm, besides touching his own hole, and licking his fingers, that is.) Harry wondered what Malfoy's dick looked like now. Was it hard? Did the extra skin layer peel off when he got hard? But from this angle, Harry couldn't see.
"End me!" Malfoy echoed mockingly. "Gods Potter, is that your way of asking for assistance reaching climax?" His tone was scathingly sarcastic.
It shouldn't have been hot. Malfoy's voice right then sounded the furthest from friendly. Malfoy sounded rude, unpleasantly impolite, his voice filled with loathing and staunch disrespect. And yet it was the best thing Harry could have heard in that moment. Having Malfoy under him, his own school rival completely at his mercy, impaled on his own dick, made Harry feel more powerful than anything he could have imagined.
Then Malfoy clenched his arse. And oh, this was an entirely different feeling. Harry succumbed to it, letting his eyes drop shut, and his mouth fall open. He shamelessly moaned as he spent his load into Malfoy. Digging his nails in those bony hips, so vicious he surely left some scratch marks.
"What gave you the impression... I ever wanted to..." Malfoy voiced in a pained, bitter tone. "Ah... end your life?"
And Harry frowned, eyes still shut in bliss. Because he wasn't making sense of the loosely connected string of words that made its way out of Malfoy's throat. Nor did he particularly want to understand. He rode out his orgasm, rocking into Malfoy, holding his arse possessively. Making his hips move in line with his own.
Malfoy spoke up again. "I never tried to end your life, Harry."
Oh? He was 'Harry' now? What had brought that on?
"Never wanted to." Malfoy sighed. He sounded quite defeated. Harry smiled into his orgasm.
"Sure, I've set you up for detention in first year. Called you out on a midnight duel that I never showed for. I've read your diary in second year. And on numerous occasions throughout that school year, I said I wished death on your friend Granger. But I never wished death on you, Harry. And yeah, that was messed up of me to say those things about your muggle friend. I was an edgelord. Can't help it. I've said loads of edgy stuff as a kid. The things I said about Granger that year, doesn't even scratch the surface of all the sick and twisted comments I've made as a child. In third year, I played on your greatest fears, and dressed up as a dementor of all things, just to torment you. In fourth, I made fun of the way you smelled. Even though... I actually didn't find your body odor that appalling at all. I uhm... I actually quite liked it. ...Still do. ...It's a shame you wear this much cologne now. Completely masks how you actually smell. I can hardly smell your natural scent, even from up this close."
Ugh. Would Malfoy just stop talking? Harry gave his hips another thrust, before he felt himself soften. With great reluctance he opened his eyes and pulled out. He pressed one hand down on Malfoy's lower back, making him sink further. And tugged at Malfoy's hips, pulling him close. So that Harry was straddling the other guy's hips from behind, as they were both standing. Without feeling a lick of shame, Harry wiped his own penis off on Malfoy's white button-down shirt. Forever staining it with his own semen.
"Then I unfairly set you up for detention again, in fifth year... Abusing my own power as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad." Malfoy let out a dry chuckle. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Harry raised an eyebrow, looking down at the back of Malfoy's platinum blond head. How was Malfoy so familiar with muggle television, that he could quote lines from Monthy Python? ...Unless there was some wizarding equivalent that went with that line. Harry shook his head at him.
"And this year," Malfoy went on. "I immobilized you on the train, then stomped on your face till it bled, and left you there. Covered under your own invisibility cloak."
Harry rolled his eyes. Was Malfoy's lengthy life story ever going to end? He tucked himself back into his underpants, and zipped up. While remaining where he stood above Malfoy. Something about this pose was deeply pleasing to Harry.
"I felt real bad about that, Harry. Just having left you there. It wasn't right. Wasn't right of me at all, to do that. Even if I was angry at you for taking the piss out of my parents, right to their faces last summer, after all they'd been through." Malfoy's tone turned accusing. "You weren't right to say any of those things either. Nothing honorable about mocking a man when he's down."
Harry smacked Malfoy on his right arse cheek. Malfoy yelped in surprise.
"Forgive me for not being courteous with the sort of people who had my parents killed." Harry quipped in a sweet sarcastic tone. "Don't tell me you're naive enough to believe your dad doesn't belong in Azkaban."
The irony of Harry just having slapped a guy who was down, bent under him, was not lost on Harry. And he didn't feel in the least bit sorry for having done so. Etiquette and chivalry be damned.
"All the things I did, ...all the things I said, ...it was never with an intention to 'end you', Harry. Never."
"Yeah?" Harry said, not believing a word of it. "Then explain poisoning Ron."
Ron Weasley had suffered nearly fatal food poisoning just under a month ago. All because the guy drank from a bottle of Bungbarrel spiced mead. A bottle Malfoy had clearly tampered with. Harry almost drank the liquor himself. His own mug was at his lips when Ron fell, jerking violently, foaming at the mouth. Harry had rushed his friend to the Hogwarts hospital wing. It had taken him weeks to find who could be behind this. And he had the wrong culprit at first; (after an argument with Hermione, which involved telling her she was 'mental' for not accepting Ron kindly rejecting her). Now Harry was sure it had been Malfoy who'd poisoned the mead. His suspicions were confirmed when Malfoy let out a distraught lament.
"So it truly was you, poisoning the mead we were about to drink."
He watched Malfoy shake his head vehemently.
"It was not you?"
Malfoy sobbed. This dude sure did cry a lot, it seemed.
"I did poison the mead." Malfoy confessed between sobs, his whole body shaking under Harry. "But I — it wasn't... It wasn't meant to be drank by you."
"Who was the poison for?" Said Harry coolly, without missing a beat.
An impossibly soft voice muttered "Dumbledore."
And Harry blinked. He stared. He backed away, moving off of Malfoy. Frowning at him. As the blond git wept and shook, still bent over at the hip.
With a frustrated sigh, Harry walked around to Malfoy's front, reached over and placed his fingertips under the guy's chin. Forcing his head up. Ice grey eyes were wide with tears once more. Snot blubbered over Malfoy's upper lip. The guy looked absolutely miserable. And some of Harry's post-sex high plummeted, seeing his lover so downcast. So this was what it felt like, huh. When they cry right after having sex with you. It didn't sit well with Harry. Made him feel uneasy. Like he'd done something wrong — taken advantage of Malfoy in his vulnerable state... (Which Harry was sure he hadn't! Malfoy had wanted it just as much as Harry at the time. Malfoy had initiated, saying he'd gladly eat shit, and grabbing for the lube of his own making. Malfoy had seduced Harry, wiggling those hips, presenting his spread arse, practically gagging for it.)
Still made him feel terrible seeing Malfoy ugly cry again. Harry removed his hand from under Malfoy's chin. What good was dominating your foe as you fucked them, when they looked at you like that when you were done? It made Harry feel like the villain. He should have known. He should have stopped this, or never even started, when he heard Malfoy say crap like he'd rather be dead.
Harry placed a hand under Malfoy's armpit, the one with the exposed shoulder, and pulled him upright. He shifted his hand to Malfoy's bare shoulder, trailed it down his upper arm, shifted the white cotton down Malfoy's elbow, exposing the tattoo on his inner forearm. Both Malfoy and Harry looked at the tattoo. A skull started near Malfoy's chelidon, seared into his skin with black ink. The skull looked hauntingly realistic. And it was facing Harry's way. Drawn so that anyone who looked at Malfoy, could see it well. This tattoo seemed to be placed for the enjoyment of others. Not for Malfoy's own personal pleasure of viewing it.
A realistic looking snake coiled out the skull's mouth, like a tongue. Then looped and looped into the infinity symbol. Shaped like an eight; the symbol that never stopped. Forever life, Voldemort's curse. Harry heard another sob leave Malfoy's lips, and he looked up into the other guy's face.
Malfoy wasn't looking back at him. Unseeing grey eyes were fixed on the skull tattoo on his arm. His cheeks were wet with tears. He kept his shoulders hunched, knees a bit bent, trying to make himself small. Harry and Malfoy stood at the same height this way — their faces lined up perfectly. Harry looked down at the tattoo again. The snake was painted so that it opened its mouth just above the wrist. Sharp fangs and a forked tongue were drawn clearly in black ink. It was a relief the tattoo was not animated, a still image only. Harry didn't know if he could have stomached that, seeing a writhing snake in black ink on Malfoy's arm.
Slowly, as not to startle him, Harry trailed his fingertips over Malfoy's snake skull tattoo. Malfoy shivered. But did not look at Harry.
"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.
"Sometimes." Malfoy admitted in a small voice.
"Does it hurt when I touch you here?" Harry stroked the Dark Mark more boldly now, pressing down on the marked skin.
Malfoy drew in a sharp breath. Through clenched bared teeth, he hissed, "Yeah."
Harry immediately pulled away. He looked at Malfoy — nude, flaccid, hard nipple showing where his chest was exposed. Harry suppressed an animalistic urge to squeeze that nipple, play with it. Not now, not now, not now!
He placed both hands on Malfoy's upper arms. One hand landing on bare skin, the other touching Malfoy's shirt. Harry stepped in closer. Breathing on Malfoy's face till the git was forced to look at him.
"Did Voldemort tell you to kill Dumbledore?" Harry guessed.
Malfoy winced as he heard Harry pronounce 'Voldemort'. "Don't... say his name." Malfoy hissed, looking away.
"Look at me." Harry said in a commanding tone. Malfoy's eyes were back on his. Looking ridden with guilt.
"I can't do it." Malfoy whimpered. "I mean I tried, and I nearly killed you." He sounded pained, weeping as he spoke. Then his voice took on a lighter note. Malfoy offered a forced smile, searching Harry's face. "Do you want... Would you like to have a go again? I'm ah..." Malfoy laughed bitterly, staring into the distance, then looked back into Harry's eyes, searching for something.
"I was going to end it all, today." Malfoy told him dead seriously.
Malfoy's voice broke, he laughed and he sobbed, all at the same time. Then looked at Harry, with newfound hope.
"Then in came you," Malfoy continued. "I didn't know you ah... fancied blokes. But then you made me... ah," Malfoy chuckled, "finger myself under the imperius," he laughed, "and I knew." He searched Harry's face again, this time offering Harry a small warm smile.
Harry stared back at him, dumbfounded.
"I'm ah... still likely to go through with it." Malfoy looked to the side, his eyes sad again. "Might not be here tomorrow." He said bitterly to the floor. Then looked up at Harry. Giving him this sensual, under-the-eyelash look. "If you'd like to have another go... You can use me." Malfoy whispered coyly. "Do it tonight. Fuck me again. There's plenty of lube for another session. If you can get hard once more. At least then I'll have a purpose." He finished with a self-deprecating chuckle.
And now Harry felt like a dick.
"I'm not going to use you, Malfoy." He said with cold finality.
The other guy looked crestfallen. "Oh." Was all he said.
"What I mean is," Harry started, rethinking it, as he kneaded Malfoy's shoulders with his fingers. "I will not let you take your own life."
Malfoy frowned. With a distrustful look, he eyed Harry. "That's not your decision to make." He sounded closed-off, like he was putting distance between them, no longer letting Harry in.
"I think it is." Said Harry, with an edge to his voice.
Malfoy snarled at him. "What? You fucked me one time, now you think you own me? And get to make decisions about my life? My life is mine. I can do what I want. I can live it, or I can end it. And right now I see no reason to live, so —"
Harry cut him off with a kiss. Unlike with sex, he was quite experienced in the locking lips department. He knew how to make a kiss feel good. How to soothe a lover with his lips. Licking and sucking and nibbling and damn did Malfoy's lips taste salty after all that crying. Harry didn't mind. Though his glasses did get in the way, when he tried deepening the kiss without taking them off. This had been easier with Cho — her nose was flatter than Malfoy's. Harry pressed one final kiss to Malfoy's eager lips, then pulled back, heaving.
Malfoy was also panting as he looked at him, transfixed.
"I don't care about your reasons." Harry growled. "I'm not letting you kill yourself. I won't allow it."
Malfoy blinked at him in surprise. He was blushing. "O-okay," he said numbly.
"Besides," Harry said, voice softening as he stroked Malfoy's upper arms, before taking a step back, and letting go. "Seems we have a foe in common."
Malfoy frowned, not catching on. "What do you mean?"
"Dumbledore." Harry said plainly.
The blond's silver brows shot up to his hairline. "But you — ...You're —"
"I ...what?" Harry snarked back.
Malfoy frowned, eyeing him with distrust. "You're in Dumbledore's Army."
Harry snorted coldly. "Who told you that."
"Uh... uhm, Umbridge? Last year..."
Harry rolled his eyes. Walking around the other guy, to retrieve his own robe and wand from the shower stall. "Oh, you're so out of the loop, Malfoy. A lot has changed since last year."
"Like what?"
Harry threw his robe over his head, then turned around to face his school rival. Malfoy had turned as well, and was staring at him. They locked eyes for a bit. Harry debated telling him. Would it help Harry's master plan if Malfoy knew? Oh golly, what the hell, he might as well say it. Harry put on a fake cheery tone, and snappily replied.
"Dumbledore wants me dead."
"He — what?"
A lifeless chuckle left Harry's lips. "Apparently killing me is the simplest route to do away with Voldemort."
Malfoy cringed upon hearing the Dark Lord's name. "But then, why are you... in ...Dumbledore's Army?" He asked Harry, with a curious tilt of his head.
"I'm not in Dumbledore's Army, you moron." Had Malfoy always been this thick?
Malfoy curled his lip at the insult to his intelligence.
"We can help each other." Said Harry, fixing his tie in the mirror.
"Like a truce?" Malfoy quirked a silver eyebrow.
"I was thinking... more like an alliance. You help me find a way to rid myself of the horcrux which Voldemort placed on me. I help you with your mission impossible."
Another cringe at the name. This was getting ridiculous.
"Are you with me, or not?" Harry demanded.
Malfoy worried his lip with his teeth. "I don't understand. If you're not on Dumbledore's side, then... then why —" He looked away. In a weaker voice, he continued. "Why would you help You-Know-Who?" With trembling lips, Malfoy glanced at the mirror, locking eyes with Harry. In a frightened tone, he whispered. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"
Frustrated, Harry whirled around, hands on his waist. "Whose side am I on? What is this, kindergarten?" He let out an irritable huff. "I'm on my side, you numbskull."
That last insult must have hurt. Because Malfoy backed away from him, as if scolded. In hindsight, perhaps mocking Malfoy for having Voldemort's snake skull forever seared into his arm, was a nasty thing to do. Not one of Harry's finest moments.
"Look, the man wants me dead." Harry expounded. "I have no qualms about offing the Machiavellian puppet master, who made me go back to my abusive muggle relations each and every summer."
It was silent for a bit. Then, when Harry was certain he would hear nothing at all, Malfoy said: "I always forget you have muggle extended family."
Harry curled his lip in distaste. "Worst muggles that ever lived. If anyone deserves getting eaten alive by Salazar's basilisk, it's those muggles."
Malfoy just blinked at him, frozen in shock for several moments. Then he nodded. "I'm in." He said. "I'll tell you everything I know of the Dark Arts involved in ah, horcrux making. And we can... look for a solution together." Malfoy bit his lip, looking guilty.
"There anything more you'd like to say?" Harry prompted him.
"It's just that... Well when, ah, You-Know-Who finds out that I'm working with you... He won't be too kind."
"Voldemort doesn't have to know."
Malfoy cringed.
Harry took several steps forward, till he was breathing onto Malfoy's lips. "It can be our little secret." Said Harry, reaching out to run his fingers through Malfoy's hair. "You can be my..." Harry laughed, licked his own lips and lunged forward to kiss Malfoy again, taking his mouth in a possessive gnaw, then leaned back and gazed at him, "...little spy."
Malfoy blushed bright red.
"Just because I refuse to be Dumbledore's lackey, does not mean I'm gagging to be Voldemort's friend. I'm not doing this to help him. Not at all. It's simple, really. You were ordered to get rid of Dumbledore. I need Dumbledore gone. For my own safety. Helping you is helping me. Two birds, one stone."
"Two birds..." Malfoy muttered, frowning in disbelief. "What's the second aim you hope to accomplish, by helping me murder the headmaster?"
Harry smirked coldly, eyeing Malfoy from head to toe. The blond's white shirt was sempiternally ruined. Stained just about everywhere. Malfoy would have to buy a whole new shirt.
"Your eternal gratitude," said Harry, voice dripping with sarcasm. He lurched forward and grabbed one of Malfoy's balls.
Malfoy's face went pale with shocked fear. Harry squeezed him. Malfoy let out a gasp.
In a low tone, Harry growled. "I hope you will remember the one who saved your life."
He squeezed Malfoy some more, to have the guy choke out a whimper, before quickly letting him go. Malfoy's balls bounced, flopping about gracelessly. Malfoy's penis was still flaccid. With a careless shrug, Harry moved to wash off his hands.
As he did so, Harry felt some mild discomfort just below his stomach. His bowels shifted painfully. He felt like passing gas. Harry remembered why he'd gone to the bathroom in the first place. He clutched his lower belly and ran into the nearest cubicle.
Harry Potter took a big fat dump in there.
He flushed after himself. Yet that wasn't enough to completely dispel the stink he had left in the cubicle. The smell quickly spread throughout the men's room, hitting Malfoy in the nose. This was apparent from Malfoy's cringing. And the way he tried to stop breathing.
" Eugh." Said Malfoy, fanning his face with a hand.
Harry threw his head back and laughed. "I know!" He hooted. "Potter stinks." Clutching his own belly, he laughed it out. As Malfoy annoyedly glared at him.
What? It was funny. And Harry found he now easily laughed at himself, no longer bothered by the comment on his body odor.