Sneaky, Lying, Unchaste Tramp
By Rice-Ball247
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters involved here. JKRowling owns 'em, lovelies.
The first time he'd noticed it happen was around midway through their sixth year at Hogwarts. Occasionally, he would be hit with a chronic case of insomnia and not even the expensive taste of his personal brew could help to lull the nightmares that wracked his mind like an unsatisfied miner in a goldfield without gold.
It was probably just a few minutes past midnight when he heard the unmistakable rustling of bed linen coming from the four-poster on his right. He lay there in silence, staring up at the dark green canopy as more rustling ensued. A whispered "Lumos" cast a gentle light from behind drawn curtains, visible even through the layers of fabric and the ample space between the beds.
He could barely make out the sound of home slippers being placed on Blaise's feet, effectively muffling any footfalls from possibly being heard. Then just as softly, a quiet, "Nox," and the light was extinguished, leaving Draco to remain in the darkness as the door to their dormitory opened and closed with a gentle click.
Blaise would return later, much later, as the beginnings of dawn began to awaken the more morning-active residents of Hogwarts. Despite the fact that the Slytherin dungeons were underground, sunlight somehow managed to stream inside their rooms. It was one of the mysteries of Hogwarts that could not be solved and was better left unquestioned lest the pondering mind was left to ponder for years on end.
It was, perhaps, nearly five in the morning, just a mere two hours before the rest of the student body had to be up and ready for breakfast before classes began at eight-thirty on the dot. Draco, of course, had only banked in about an hour of sleep before he'd woken up again. He knew that the other three boys of their dorm, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott, would still be dead to the world (especially the former two) at this time. So when the door opened to admit someone inside, Draco knew it could only be one person.
There was a soft curse emitted from Blaise's mouth, a strangled groan and the customary cracking of every bone possible – a habit which irked Draco no matter how much he'd grown accustomed to it over the years. He lay still in the silence as more shuffling occurred, stumbling; perhaps he was disoriented?
As Blaise's form, from behind the thin, almost gauzy material of Draco's curtain, grew near, he could smell something permeating from the other boy. Sweat. Boy sweat. Blaise must have been exerting himself somehow. Quidditch training, maybe?
But Blaise always showered after Quidditch training. He refused to go anywhere until he'd had his shower. Besides, who, aside from that inane Potter, would go training on a broomstick in the unseeing darkness from midnight to dawn? It was simply unheard of.
Blaise groaned again and the sound of the other Slytherin sinking into his bed could be distinguished. Draco mentally counted to twenty before he feigned the morning ritual of awakening that occurred everyday for nearly every person who yawned, stretched and generally blinked lazily in the post-sleep haze of early morning Monday.
He gave himself a full minute before he yawned again (he didn't need to fake this one) and threw back the flimsy curtains to begin his morning routine. A quick glance at Blaise's bed showed that only a part of the curtains had been left open and, from what Draco could see, Blaise looked completely knackered. The other boy was slumped over his pillows, rubbing his eyes wearily and muttering beneath his breath.
Draco had only caught onto, "Damn insatiable Potter," before the curtains were wrenched shut and he continued on his way. He spared the curse no thought.
That is, until the following evening.
It seemed to continue for a long time. Before they knew it, the summer vacation had rolled over into the new school year and September the First seemed to hit all the students like a freight train without any brakes. For the seventh year students, it would be the final year at Hogwarts. One more year of torturous education for some and the final year of a 'true home' for others.
To be honest, Hogwarts had played the role of a home more so than Malfoy Manor ever did. In his ancestral home, Draco felt a little alienated with the unsettling coldness and unfamiliarity that the three members of the Malfoy family regarded each other with. He'd been alright with it at first, but as he grew older, he couldn't help but question why there was so much cold indifference between himself and his parents.
Over the past six or so months, Draco had noticed that Blaise had been sneaking out as much as possible, leaving in the late hours of the night and cutting it close to their wake-up hour in the mornings. On those days which he did sneak out, Blaise would be in an uncharacteristically good mood. On other nights that he spent in bed, Blaise would be a little put-out and spacey. He also seemed to have developed an intense dislike for their resident Potions Master, Severus Snape.
It was their first class of the year, a Slytherin-Gryffindor potions-class-inevitable-disaster-in-the-making lesson, where every student was split into pairs of the professor's choosing and Potter and Blaise had ended up together.
Draco watched suspiciously as they greeted each other cordially, Potter appearing slightly apprehensive, glancing maybe once or twice at their professor before settling beside Draco's best friend with a shy but tight smile. Blaise merely nodded his head in return and together they set out to complete the lesson's potion.
But something was terribly off. Snape seemed to be bearing down on the pair a lot more, not so much on Potter, but more on Blaise. Others may have not noticed, but Draco certainly didn't fit into the 'others' category and so he picked up on this rather quickly. One other thing he observed was that whenever Blaise and Snape would be in the same vicinity, Potter would tense up until one or the other (usually Snape) would leave.
Draco was left wondering what on Earth could have possibly made such a reaction come into fruition, especially when it came down to the fact that Snape seemed to actually dislike one from his own house.
Draco had also picked up on the fact that Snape didn't seem as insulting to Potter as he usually did. In fact, now that he thought about it, Snape had been rather… pleasant, in an entirely Snape-ish sense, since last year. Something was going on, and Draco had three rather interesting puzzle pieces that seemed to belong on different sides of the puzzle board. He would work this out soon. But first, Arithmancy.
He probably hadn't intended to do it.
Honestly, the fact that Draco was Head Boy meant that patrolling the corridors at night was a given duty. After having a particularly trying day and sorting out a problem between two belligerent first years, Draco was more than ready to hunker down for a long sleep after taking a relaxing bath in the Prefects' Bathroom.
Only to stop short at the sight that greeted him when he accessed the room late at night. There in the shallow waters rippling around them, Blaise Zabini pounded into Harry Potter with abandon, mercilessly attacking the pale column of milky, white flesh that lay exposed. All Draco could really see was the back of Blaise's arse moving rhythmically and Potter's slender, alabaster legs hooked around Blaise's waist in contrast with the dark skin.
Two words came to mind: Wanton Whore.
Potter was moaning like a cheap, Knockturn alley hooker, canting and undulating his unrestrained hips as he accepted more and more of the thick cock penetrating his arse. Blaise was grunting like a pig, thrusting harder into the boy beneath him before he let out a cry almost in junction with Potter's, and they both stilled and shuddered, clinging to each other in the rippling currents they had created themselves.
Draco decided to wash his eyes out, instead, and left the bathroom promptly.
He couldn't shake off the thought that he had stayed to watch them for nearly five minutes, instead of leaving immediately.
He couldn't dismiss the familiar stirring in his groin – not for Blaise, never for Blaise – but frighteningly enough, for the promiscuous little minx that was Harry Potter.
Two puzzle pieces drifted together and clicked.
He tried to clear his mind, blank the mental imagery that seemed to spring up at the most inappropriate times such as when he and Potter had their little disagreements. He wanted to call forth a suitable insult that would, no doubt, put the little tart in his place, but feared being called upon for his unintentional voyeurism.
Or maybe not so unintentional.
Draco had taken to following Blaise on the nights when he did sneak out to meet Potter and, to be honest, their meeting places weren't all that original. The Astronomy Tower was a little outdated and kind of draughty – really, if someone wanted to meet up for a nightly liaison, they might as well choose a more suitable location.
Each time he watched Blaise spear that begging body with his erection, Draco would fix his eyes on Potter's expression whenever possible. And when he couldn't, Draco closed his eyes and imagined it were he who was doing all those wonderful things to Potter, instead of Blaise.
Except one night in the throes of passion, Potter's eyes happened to flicker over Blaise's shoulder and meet Draco's molten, silver eyes. Draco had never come in his pants like an inexperienced, uncontrolled virgin.
But he did.
"I know you saw us," Potter confronted him two days later after trying to tactfully avoid both at all costs. It had been a little harder with Blaise than it had been with Potter, especially since Blaise was his best friend, but Draco had managed to pull of the excuse of having too much to study for, or too many duties and Blaise had merely brushed it off as one of Draco's infamous 'PMS-moods'.
Draco feigned innocence, steadfastly ignoring Potter who had perched his rump on his desk in the library.
"I saw you," Potter repeated, wriggling his arse as if it would have any affect on Draco's stoicism. It did.
He glanced up with a fixed glare and sneered, "I could report you, Potter. Seducing other students."
"You get free shows," Potter replied. "I know you're after me."
Draco snorted derisively and began to pack away his things. Potter's verdant eyes lingered on Draco's face determinedly. "Of course. Our little celebrity is the centre of this universe. Fuck you, Potter."
"I know you want to," Potter replied, fluttering his eyelashes in flirtatious adulation. Draco faltered a moment as the mental image of Potter writhing in pleasure beneath him immediately assaulted his mind. "You want to take me like Blaise does, don't you? Ram your huge, leaking cock inside of me."
That seemed to snap Draco out of his daze and he narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor with disgust. "Cheap, filthy little piece of shit. You're worse than mudblood, scum," Draco spat, almost desperate, almost defensive. He needed to get away from Potter. The exit was so near…
"You can't afford me, Malfoy," Potter finally said haughtily, slinking off the desk so he could stand properly. Even when Potter stood to his full height, Draco towered over the shorter brunet by a head or two. "I don't care for any of the insults you could possibly throw at me. I chose to be this way."
Draco stared down at him blankly as Potter drew near. His mind screamed at him to move away before the little vixen could come any closer but Potter's small hands were already gripping his robes in a surprisingly tight grip.
"I'll be the best fuck of your life. And you can't have any of it," Potter simpered, his lips twisted into a coy smile. Draco became vaguely aware of the strong downwards pull, like a boulder submitting to the law of gravity, as Potter crushed their lips together in a bruising lock.
When Potter finally pulled away, leaving Draco gasping for breath, he smirked at the blond and flounced off. Draco stared blankly after him before the situation had finally sunk in and he kicked the desk in a frustration that was most certainly not of the sexual sort.
Draco was going insane.
Potter seemed to dominate a good portion of his thoughts and no matter how much he tried to run away, physically, mentally, his mind was warped with the image of Potter, the smell of Potter, the feel, the taste, the sound of Potter as he made those mewling noises like a bitch in heat.
No matter how many times Draco had told himself to stay away, like a moth drawn to a flame, he disobeyed himself. He followed Blaise whenever it was his night to go out, and when it wasn't, Draco would work under the premise of Head Boy duties. Not that he ever found Potter on those nights.
In the daytime, Potter was a perfect little Gryffindor, all smiles and laughter, studies and friends.
At night, Potter transformed into the slut he really was, smirking and moaning, fucking and lovers.
Occasionally, he'd find Potter in some hidden alcove being rammed into the wall by some other student other than Blaise. Once, Potter had been giving a first year Slytherin (one of the troublesome students from before) a rather spectacular blowjob.
Draco's already minimal respect for Potter dropped significantly after that night, yet he couldn't help but be drawn to him. He wanted to report Potter for promiscuous activities, for seducing younger students, for driving him crazy. Oh how Potter made his blood positively boil.
Yet Draco did none of that. Instead, he followed Potter around even more, cursing the fact that he was a hot-blooded youth who couldn't seem to keep his hands away from his own cock. And Potter was excellent at getting said organ up a notch or two.
His N.E.W.T trials reflected how badly he had slipped up from his standard of excellence in his studies. Draco knew the reason why. Yet he did nothing to stop it. In fact, he chased after it, very much in the same way that Potter sought out trouble.
It wasn't until the start of their N.E.W.T exams that Draco had finally caught something truly illegal. He had been wondering what part Professor Snape had to play in any of Potter's nightly business but hadn't found any proof of it until around the end of March.
With his other nightly lovers, Potter didn't seem to care where he snuck out to, or his means of sneaking out. Draco had been… watching Potter for quite some time, never acting on the impulse to force Potter into submission, but wishing that he could.
Draco had needed to speak with Severus about something important regarding his father. Lucius Malfoy seemed to have something to say regarding Draco's studies and most certainly wasn't pleased. Draco, being Head Boy, was going to visit Severus' private quarters in order to have a chat with the man.
Only when he arrived, Severus was no where in sight. Perhaps he was running an errand for Dumbledore or brewing a potion or marking something in his office…
The door opened and Draco nearly jumped when it slammed shut and no one seemed to appear. He glanced around in confusion, his pulse quickening in his chest, his throat.
"Boo," Potter's unattached head floated in front of Draco, wringing a sharp cry of surprise from his throat. Stupid Potter.
The Gryffindor seemed to think that this was all too funny and laughed at Draco's expense.
"What are you doing here, Potter? Coming to steal again?"
Instead of the offended reaction Draco had been expecting, Potter smiled coyly and Draco jumped when he felt fingers inching their way up his arm. Gooseflesh broke out on his skin and he shivered as Potter came closer.
"On the contrary, I'm here to give Severus what he paid for. You can stay for the show if you want, just don't make yourself known to him or he'll be mad," Harry smirked, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak and tossing it over Draco's head.
Draco disappeared for a moment before he huffed and pulled the velvety material off him. "What the hell are you doing here, Potter? Answer me properly."
"Well… let me explain it to you so you understand how this process works. Customer pays paramour for sex. Paramour gives them what they paid for. If you want examples, I'll make it clear: Severus paid me for sex and I'm gonna give it to him," Harry seemed to sneer, as if he were rubbing it in Draco's face. "Ironic, isn't it? You're so wealthy yet… you can't have me."
"I don't want you, Potter. Stop trying to be so sure of yourself," Draco retorted with more on his mind to speak but Potter had grabbed the cloak, tossed it over him again and pushed him into a corner.
"Don't move, speak or breathe too loudly. Or we'll get caught," was all Potter could say before the door to Severus' quarters swung open and the man himself stormed in. Potter turned like a naughty child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my little Gryffindor pet. How are you?" Severus asked with an air of nonchalance as he disrobed and hung the black cloak onto a hook in the wall. Potter's lips quirked into a smile as he backed away from their potion's professor and into the man's desk.
"Hungry."
"Ah… you haven't been fed yet, slut?" Severus hissed, reaching out to grasp Potter's cheeks. The boy nodded as Severus forced him to his knees. "In that case, have some nice, warm milk. I've saved up plenty for you."
Draco's eyes bulged from their sockets as Severus unzipped his trousers and let his pants fall, revealing a rather well-hung set of equipment which was already purpling and drizzling jizz down its veined length. Potter took the erection into his mouth like a baby would to a bottle and began to suck.
When Severus seemed to near his limit, Potter pulled away and disrobed as well, before pushing Severus into his seat behind his desk and mounted the angry cock without shame.
"Mmm… punish me, professor!" was all Draco heard before he threw off the cloak and ran from the room foolishly.
Disgust.
It was the only word Draco could think of. Disgust for that cheap whore, Potter. Disgust for his easily seduced best friend, Blaise. Disgust for Severus, for being a dirty pedophile.
But mostly, disgust for himself for wanting to be a part of Potter's little, debauched world.
He cursed inwardly as he rested his head on the table in a secluded part of the library, wishing he had eaten at dinner so that he wouldn't be starving like he was now. To be honest, he could have just gone to the kitchens and gotten something, but he'd been moping around for the past week, feeling disgusted with himself and the world in general.
He'd nearly had his role as Head Boy revoked due to his behavior, and had managed to keep his status as Head Boy by Dumbledore's good will alone. Professor Snape seemed unaffected since Draco was his godson, but the fear in the man's dark eyes was there. Fear of being caught red-handed.
And he had been caught. But Draco kept silent. As did Potter. And Blaise. And if there was anyone else in the student body who knew of Severus Snape's fornication with the slutty little Potter, they kept their silence as well.
A sandwich was dropped in front of him, wrapped expertly in wax paper, no doubt from the kitchens. Draco glanced up and saw a nervous looking Potter shifting from foot to foot at the other side of the desk. "Potter. What do you want?"
The Gryffindor opened his mouth, looking furious for a moment before he remembered where he was and bowed his head, subservient. "Please don't tell anyone."
Draco snorted. "About your nightly escapades?"
Potter winced and shook his head, taking a seat in front of Draco. "No… about Severus."
Draco opened his mouth to point out that he wouldn't turn in his Head of House, his godfather and surrogate father in that regard, but Potter continued, "I may not love him, but I do care for him. He's become a mentor to me and what the two of us share… Malfoy, he's gets lonely, okay? I don't want him to pay me anymore because I'd do this for free for him."
"But why?" Draco blurted out, unable to help himself as Potter flushed and mumbled something under his breath. "What?"
"I said," Potter snapped, "I've sorta had a crush on him from my third year. It may not seem like it but the way he verbally abuses me is kind of… well… hot."
Draco stared. "You're fucked, Potter. And I mean that in the figurative sense."
Potter sighed and gave Draco another beseeching look, "So can I trust you to keep quiet?"
The blond snorted and pushed the sandwich back towards Potter, who suddenly looked panicked. "You're asking a Slytherin, a Malfoy, no less, if he would keep his silence when his enemy can be expelled, and you try to bribe me with a sandwich?"
"It's roast beef?" Potter tilted his head cutely, poking the sandwich back towards Draco. The blond stared at the younger boy for a moment longer before he collapsed back in his chair.
"Christ Potter! I wasn't going to dob you in anyway. He's the Slytherin Head of fucking House. You think I'd want to turn him in?"
Potter tried to reason with him, "Maybe you decided you wanted to get me expelled?"
Draco rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor, "If I wanted you expelled you'd be long gone from here. If not in previous years then from all the other times you've prowled the corridors looking for your next meal."
Potter seemed to flinch at that reference to his night with Severus and smiled weakly at Draco. "I… I want to thank you, then. Please…"
Draco's eyes widened at the implications. Potter. Submitting himself to him. Potter. Offering himself up. Potter.
"God damn it, Potter, you can't just come here and fuck up my life like that."
The brunet looked like he wanted to cut Draco off, but he continued his tirade, picking up momentum as he went. "I don't know how long this little game of yours has been going on for but you need to stop it. It's sick, it's wrong and you have no self respect for yourself. I've been watching you, for fucks sake. You don't even get enjoyment out of all the guys that fuck you at this fine establishment," Draco snarled, slamming his fist into the table as he stood and rounded in on Potter.
The waifish boy seemed to tremble under Draco's intense glare, the blond standing over him in an intimidating manner that could only be perfected after seven years in the snake pit.
"W-what do you mean…?"
"You fake it, don't you, Potter," Draco's voice dropped down to a whisper, his hands bracketing Potter's body as he bore down on him in the uncomfortable, library chair. "You prance around claiming you pay back in sexual favours what you get paid. You say you get enjoyment out of it? The only times I've seen you actually come is with Blaise and Severus and that's because they actually know what their doing. But you don't know what real pleasure is, do you? You have no idea how sex really works."
"O-of course I do, you idiot. I'm a--" Potter stopped short and his lips seemed to tremble as the word halted on his tongue.
"Say it, Potter. Since you're so confident in whom you are. That is who you are, right? Go on, Potter, say it," Draco jeered, his lips in their customary snarl as Potter's mouth fell open and close like a goldfish.
"I…"
"Slut."
Harry's head snapped up and searched Draco's eyes quickly, a frown on his lips which were parting slowly. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You dirty, shameless slut. Sneaky, lying, unchaste tramp, Potter," Draco whispered as he grabbed the hairs at the nape of Harry's neck and forced the head upwards and lowering his own until their lips crashed together like cars colliding. Fierce, relentless.
Harry was like putty in his hands, whimpering and mewling as Draco captured and recaptured pliant but kiss-bruised lips.
"You could be so much more, Potter," Draco shook his head as he grasped Harry's face in his two hands, holding him gently. "When they fuck you, do they do this?"
He leaned down, stroking Harry's chest lightly while he nibbled on his bottom lip, dragging his teeth across the gentle swell of flesh before peppering kisses down the side of his jaw to kiss and suck at Harry's earlobe.
Gently, he pressed a kiss just below Harry's ear then craned his neck to whisper, "When they fuck you, do they hold you? Or abuse you?"
Large, warm hands permeated heat from Draco into Harry and he trembled with anticipation and fear. It usually took Harry a while to get excited, aside from Blaise's 'secret lovers' fantasy and Severus' 'naughty school boy' kink. But he already wanted it by this point, his neck stretching to search for Draco's withheld lips.
"Then love me. Save me," Harry mumbled. "Because no one else will."
The blond relented.
On the night of their graduation, Harry Potter officially became monogamous with Draco Malfoy. Blaise had been furious, Severus had been a little hurt but in the end, something had managed to work out and Harry finally felt true to himself.
"I don't understand you, Potter," Draco murmured softly, running his hands unhurriedly down Harry's torso, pulling the boy into his arms as he pulled soft blankets over the both of them.
"I don't understand me either," Harry replied, slightly out of breath but flushed a pleasant pink. Draco's lips quirked into a smile as Harry leaned into his arms and wrapped himself around Draco's waist.
"We're fucked up idiots," Draco shifted so that Harry wouldn't completely cut of the circulation in his arms. Harry shook his head.
"We're fucked up idiots falling in love, you stupid git," Harry's lips puckered up comically and Draco laughed as he obliged him.
Rice-Ball247: Sorry it was paced so quickly, but I wanted to keep this as a one-shot. I have a really bad case of insomnia and I had an idea so I decided to type it up and here I am five hours later (5 am lol) with a finished story.
Remember to review!