쉘리 I whip my hair like Bang Bang ([info]sdk) wrote in [info]greykitty_fic on June 29th, 2012 at 12:34 am
HP: Screwed (Harry/Draco, NC-17, One-Shot)
Title: Screwed
Author: [info]sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Length/Word Count: One-Shot, ~4500 words
Warnings/Content: rimming, anal, some frotting and a little bit of a blow job. Also there are tentacles. But not while all that other stuff is going on.
Summary: Draco and Harry are Auror partners and together they fight crime! Also the occasional slime monster or two.
Notes: Written for [info]alisanne who prompted me with "Harry/Draco, red" and this Star Trek icon:

I'm afraid the red is quite incidental, and [info]alisanne might not have quite known what she was in for with the rest. One of my anniversary "ficlets" (heh). Special thanks to [info]torino10154 and [info]roozetter for the fabulous feedback and beta! <3
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world I did not create. No copyright infringement intended.


“We're screwed.” Draco shot another stunner from his wand. The red light bounced harmlessly off the creature's bulbous body, the only effect a terrifying roar from its gaping maw.

“Don't be so negative.” Potter poured more magic into his shield, the only barrier between them and the creature at the moment. Hermione crouched behind them, her bushy head buried in her Unspeakable Book of Unspeakable Things. Draco could only hope there was an answer to who and what this creature was in there. Merlin, he didn't care who and what, as long as there was a spell to stop it.

“If you hadn't rushed into this bullheaded as usual, perhaps I wouldn't have to be,” Draco replied as he attempted a stinging hex to no avail. Hermione harrumphed in agreement. Draco would have been pleased he had an ally if he wasn't facing certain death by hideous monster. Hideous slimy monster, he amended as green liquid oozed from the creature's mouth. It was only his Auror training that kept him from retching right then and there. He made a note to make an appointment with his toilet later.

“You didn't have to follow me,” Potter said, and Draco snorted but decided the statement deserved no further rebuttal. It would be a cold day in hell that Draco Malfoy let his partner rush off into danger without him and Potter knew it, the wanker.

“Perhaps we simply need to reason with it,” Hermione said, still flipping through the massive tome. “Find a way of communicating that we aren't a threat.”

“The hell we aren't,” Potter muttered and Draco privately agreed. Hermione was beginning to sound disturbingly like Hagrid and Draco wondered if she was growing barmy or it was just an 'Unspeakable thing' he wouldn't understand.

“Tell that to Rogers,” Draco told Hermione as he tried to stun the creature again. Poor fool was laid out in the opposite corner, slimed from head to toe with whatever the creature was leaking from its mouth. Draco had no idea if he was dead or alive, but Draco hoped for the latter, if only so he could shake the git until he understood how monumentally stupid it was for a trainee to follow Harry Potter into the field.

“Right,” Hermione murmured. “Yes...yes-” She shot to her feet, jostling Draco in the process. He sneered at her, but she was too busy buzzing in excitement to notice. “I've got it. We need to put it asleep.”

“Put. It. Asleep?” Draco knew Hermione was mental then, but she paid him no mind and nodded her head vigorously.

“Whatever we need to do, we need to do it quickly,” Potter said, his voice strained. The creature was pressing its large body against Potter's shield. Magic crackled in the air and Potter's wand shook with the pressure.

“All three of us,” Hermione said. “Cast Somnius, ready? One, two--”

Somnius,” all three of them cried as one. The creature slumped forward, no longer held up by Potter's shield. Draco clutched Potter's arm until after a few heart-pounding moments, the creature's eyes slid shut and a terrifying snore bubbled up from its mouth.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Potter glanced down at his arm where Draco still had his thin fingers wrapped around Potter's elbow. Potter raised an eyebrow. Draco dropped his hand as if stung.

“A precaution,” Draco said tightly. “Knowing you, you would have tried to stay and fight and ended up like Rogers over there. I was simply going to side-along you if the spell hadn't worked.”

“Uh huh,” Potter said. “I'll just go check on Rogers.” He looked inordinately pleased so Draco decided to turn his attention to Hermione, who was currently erecting a self-sustaining shield around the creature.

“Incredible,” she murmured under her breath. Draco nearly snorted. Only Hermione would think a hideous slime monster was worthy of study.

“I'll just pop this back to the department,” Hermione said. Draco knew better than to ask if Hermione had any theories as to what “this” was and where it came from. As always, they would be classified for Unspeakable eyes only. Draco pretended this didn't annoy him, even if he and Potter always somehow ended up being the ones who captured or killed these things. The slime monster was new, but it hadn't been the first odd creature they'd run across.

“Send your reports to the Unspeakables first,” Hermione started, but Draco waved her off.

“We've been through the procedure before, and we're not all mind-numbingly idiotic in the Auror department.” Draco glanced over as Potter levitated Rogers onto a conjured stretcher. His eyes were wide and blinking. Seems the kid had made it. “Well, at least I'm not.”

“Yes, right.” Hermione frowned. “I trust you'll-”

“Obliviate him? Yes, if he survives.” Draco snorted. “Now go off and play with your new little pet.”

Hermione pursed her lips and it looked as if she debated for a moment whether or not to respond, but she Apparated herself and the creature away without comment.

Draco turned to Potter. “St. Mungo's then?”

“Want to clutch onto my arm and side-along with me?” Potter teased. His eyes sparkled. Draco wanted to punch him in the face.


St. Mungos was uneventful. Potter used his insufferable charm on the Healers and managed to keep the Unspeakable monster a secret, plus Obliviate Rogers with their approval. Rogers would be fine. The slime apparently had been paralyzing, but once they cleaned him up there were no lingering effects. He was admitted for observation, but most likely would be back to work in the morning. And most likely would continue to follow Potter around like a puppy dog since his lesson on why this was a Bad Thing had been erased from his mind.

Draco and Potter returned to the Ministry to fill out their reports. Rather, Potter filled out a report while Draco made x-rated doodles in the margins of his. Really, they only needed one and Potter was infinitely more qualified in the fact that he would actually complete it.

Draco twirled his quill between two fingers and watched Potter on the other side of their joined desks.

“Doesn't it bother you?”

“Hmm?” Potter budged his glasses up with his thumb as he looked up, smearing a bit of ink on his skin. Draco filed the image away for later. To cackle at. Not to coo or anything and call Potter adorable, because he wasn't at all adorable. Harry Potter was the complete opposite of adorable.

“This.” Draco gestured to their reports, then quickly flipped his over as one of his doodles came to life and started humping another. Potter's lips quirked. He was clearly jealous of Draco's artistic skills. “That no one will actually tell us what it is we're hunting and capturing? Something is wrong here.”

Draco glanced both ways and when he was sure no one was lingering about eavesdropping, he leaned forward. “What if it's a conspiracy?”

“A conspiracy?” Potter raised his eyebrows. Draco shushed him.

“Yes—keep your voice down.”

“What kind of conspiracy?” Potter asked. His tone was one of polite civility, but Draco could see the laughter sparkling in his eyes.

“An Unspeakable one, of course. Perhaps they are breeding dangerous slime monsters to take over the Ministry. Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Draco said as Potter's eyes danced in merriment. Wanker. “It's entirely possible. We have no idea what they're doing down there.”

“There was only one 'slime monster',” Potter said, smiling his infuriating smile. “There was that one with suction cups for hands before, and do you remember the one with all those tentacles?”

Remember them? Draco had become intimately familiar with those tentacles when they slinked around his body and squeezed until Potter had managed to blast the monster away. Not quickly enough for Draco's liking as one tentacle had come dangerously close to Draco's private bits, and he couldn't very well help being a healthy young man who became aroused when teased, despite the inappropriate timing, now could he? Potter'd had the nerve to snicker, but Draco would've liked to have seen how Potter would've faired in similar circumstances; no doubt he'd have completely lost control and would have rutted up against the creature until he came in his pants. Tosser.

“Maybe they're trying to cross-breed them,” Potter continued, leaning in to mirror Draco's pose. “A slimy suction-cup tentacle monster. It's terrifying.”

“You mock me,” Draco said. He crossed his arms over his chest and was tempted to pout. But Malfoys did not pout, at least not in front of messy-haired gits like Potter. “You'll be sorry when there's hundreds of slimy monsters and you didn't escape with me to my private villa in France, which I would have been more than happy to have invited you to, if you hadn't-”

“Do you want to have dinner?” Potter said, rudely interrupting Draco's tirade. Draco sat back in his chair.


“Dinner. With me. Tonight. After work? Say six?”

Draco scanned Potter's face but could find no trace of his earlier mocking expression or any other reason why he'd be inviting Draco to dinner. He just looked like normal Potter, with his open, friendly sort of half-smile that gave him a hint of a dimple on his left cheek.

But this wasn't normal Potter, because Potter and Draco did not do dinners. They did not socialize outside of work at all.

“Make it seven,” Draco said. When Potter raised an eyebrow, he added. “I have to wash the Auror off. You don't expect me to show up like this, do you?”

“No,” Potter said. His lips quirked again and the habit wasn't as annoying as it usually was. “I suppose not.”


Dinner turned out to be a pub, a low-rent one at that, and Draco was infinitely over-dressed. No matter; Draco could be wearing rags and he'd still be too good for this place. Still, Potter must have had a good reason for choosing it. Draco had spent the rest of the afternoon and most of his primping time trying to suss out the reason for Potter's dinner invitation, when the answer came to him in a flash. It was so obvious, Draco could have spelled his leg to kick himself for not realizing it sooner.

Potter wanted to meet about the Unspeakable conspiracy outside of the Ministry. Sure, he'd had to put up appearances and shoot-down Draco's brilliance inside the Ministry because the Unspeakables probably had ears everywhere, even inside the Auror Department. Draco suspected the Minister was being spied upon as well, and wouldn't be surprised if the whole Wizarding community was in danger from this sinister plot. Only Draco Malfoy stood in the way of the end of the Wizarding World as they knew it.

And perhaps Harry Potter. Just a little bit.

Draco found Potter in the last booth on the right, still in his red Auror robes, a half-empty pint in front of him. Draco would have sneered, but the Auror robes did suit Potter. Perhaps it was the most attractive outfit in his wardrobe, the poor sod. If Draco decided to be magnanimous, perhaps he'd help Potter shop one day.

“Hi,” Potter said. He seemed nervous and that was unexpected. Saving the Wizarding World from certain doom must be old hat for Potter nowadays. He gestured for Draco to sit, and Draco slid into the opposite side. “Sorry, I started without you.”

“Did you already eat as well? Because that would make this dinner rather short-lived,” Draco said. Potter gave a nervous chuckle and shook his head.

“No no, haven't yet. But what would you like?”

Draco peered around him but could find no menu in sight. Regardless, at a place like this, he doubted anything would be up to his standards. “Whatever you're having will be fine, I'm sure.”

“All right, I'll just order?”

Draco nodded and Potter slid out of the booth. Draco watched Potter stride to the bar, his robes flapping in his wake.

When Potter returned, Draco expected them to get right down to business, but Potter made idle chit-chat and fiddled with his napkin. Draco furrowed his brow until he caught on that Potter was waiting for the food to arrive so they wouldn't be caught having a compromising discussion. He relaxed his features into a smile, pleased at figuring things out. Potter seemed to calm down shortly after and started acting like his usual self, full of confidence and cockiness and charm. Draco prepared himself to be annoyed throughout the whole meal, though if he were honest, Potter was quite funny when it came down to it. Not that Draco would admit the fact under pain of Cruciatus, but it was safe to acknowledge within his own head.

It wasn't until their plates were being taken away and Potter had finished his third pint did Draco realize they hadn't yet come to business at hand. He surprised himself with his own patience, but now that he'd thought of it, Draco was anxious to get started on their plans to save the world.

“So,” Draco started out inelegantly. “I know why you invited me to dinner.”

Potter smiled. “Right...I thought you'd sussed it out.”

“Yes, really, I'm quite smart.” Draco grinned, pleased with himself and Potter barked out in laughter.

“Yes, yes, you really are,” Potter agreed, but his eyes were filled with mirth and Draco was quite sure Potter was taking the piss.

“Whatever, Potter.”

“Harry,” Potter corrected. “You should really call me Harry tonight.”

Draco wasn't sure when it had happened, only there was a warm hand over his, fingers lightly stroking the top of his wrist.

“Yes, right, of course,” Draco said. “Harry.” He should too. Not only were they Auror partners, but they would have to become much closer than that working this particular case together. Harry and Draco against a whole army of Unspeakable Slime Monsters. It was a situation where one really should be intimate enough to call one's partner by their given name.

“Look, about these slime monsters-” Draco started but paused when Potter slid his hand away and leaned back into his seat.

“You really want to discuss that now?”

“Well...yes,” Draco said. He knew the confusion was plain on his face and it wasn't clearing up any time soon with that damned quirk of Potter's lips. “I think we should-”

“Come home with me,” Potter said. His hand was back, and before Draco fully processed what Potter was asking, he'd already nodded.

Potter's smile lit up the whole bar.


It dawned on Draco as Pot—Harry led him out into the alleyway, his hand warmly pressed against Draco's own, that Harry would not want to discuss the conspiracy in public; even a dive such as that one would not be completely safe from spies. Draco should have figured it out sooner that travelling to Harry's home was inevitable. It was just hard to think to straight when Harry sent him one of his dazzling smiles and pressed so close to him, Draco grew dizzy with Harry's scent.

“I have to side-along you,” Harry murmured, “or else the wards won't let you in.”

“Of course,” Draco said, his voice strong and sure and not at all breathy. And he certainly did not grow light-headed when Harry swept his arm around Draco's waist and yanked him closer.

“Ready?” Harry asked, lips so close Draco could feel Harry's breath across his face. He smelled like ale and Draco could almost taste the greasy chips of Harry's dinner, but for some reason this fact did not put Draco off. A tingle shot down his spine to the tips of his toes. Before he could analyze it further, Harry Apparated them away.

It was dark wherever they arrived, and Draco was pushed up against something hard before he could get his bearings. Harry carelessly tossed his wand to the side and his glasses were swept off his face a moment later. He still had one arm wrapped tightly around Draco's back, their chests pressed as closely as they could be with robes still in the way.

Harry dipped his head, his mouth coming closer and Draco's body seized up in a panic. He squeaked.

Harry drew back a bare inch and raised his eyebrows.

“Wha—what are you doing?” Draco managed to eke out. His heart pounded hard in his chest, and he was quite sure Harry could feel it, given their current position.

“Kissing you. Or trying to. Are you always this squirmy on dates?”

“Date? What date?” Draco asked. Harry merely looked amused. His grip didn't loosen in the slightest; if anything, he'd moved closer and Draco felt something hard and hot pressing against his thigh. To Draco's mortification, his body responded without his permission and when Harry nudged Draco's legs apart with a knee, Draco found himself complying without question.

“You did say you'd sussed out the reason I asked you to dinner,” Harry breathed. His lips were closing in again.

“Yes. I thought-” Draco started, but Harry kissed the rest of his words away. Harry's mouth was warm and he kissed like he did anything else—brazenly and with no hesitation. His tongue slipped in the moment Draco parted his lips, raking over the line of Draco's teeth, seeking out the soft palette of Draco's own. Draco found himself clinging to Harry's shoulders, his knees weak and his stomach jumping up and down like mad.

And then Harry pulled away and Draco wanted to scream.

"You thought-?" Harry asked. Harry rolled his hips in a tight smooth motion and Draco felt every inch of him slide tortuously against his own erection.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco said. He angled his head, but Harry held still, their lips a hair's breadth apart.

"Harry," Harry murmured.

"Harry," Draco said.

And then Harry was finally kissing him again, and whatever was so important that Draco needed to speak to him about could wait.


By the time they made it to the bedroom they were naked, and by the time they made it to the bed, Harry had Draco down on all fours and was sliding a finger teasingly along the cleft of Draco's arse.

"Hold yourself open for me." Harry's voice was gruff and brokered no argument. Draco shifted forward, resting his weight on his shoulders and stretching his arms back to do as Harry commanded. Being pushed around and manhandled by Harry, forced into a position and put on display, it was everything Draco never knew he wanted. His whole body tightened in anticipation, waiting for slick fingers or even Harry's cock--he wanted Harry now, preparation or no preparation, he didn't care--but only a ghost of warm breath gave him a hint of what was to come.

Draco felt something warm and wet swirl around his entrance. He squeezed his eyes shut and his cock throbbed with the new sensation. It was foul, what Harry was doing, disgusting and perverted but as Harry's tongue breached the tight ring of muscle, Draco was breaths away from begging Harry to never stop. His cock leaked onto the bed covers and Harry swiped his thumb over the head--his touch so brief, Draco was aching for more--then rubbed the slick fluid along the path his tongue had just swept. His tongue followed again, this time thrusting inside further in a slow lazy rhythm. Draco keened and rolled his hips, not caring if he smothered Harry with his arse, as long as Harry didn't stop.

“So greedy,” Harry murmured as he pulled back, his slick thumb taking the place of his tongue. He pushed Draco open ever so slowly, massaging his thumb in firm circles around Draco's entrance. Draco's arms shook with tension, his fingers digging into his skin to try to hold himself open wider.

“Fuck, just do something--” Draco said, too far gone to try to hide his pleading tone. Harry laughed, not unkindly, but with a wicked edge of promise.

“That sounds good,” Harry said. Draco heard the squeeze of a tube, then what could only be Harry's hand slicking up his own cock, and just hearing smooth slides of slick skin on skin made Draco's mouth dry and his body tremble. Finally, he felt the blunt head of Harry's cock nudge his entrance and slowly push inside.

“Fuck-” Harry said, his breathing heavy and his voice gruff. Draco would have agreed but he was unable to speak as a slow pleasurable burn made its way through him. He dropped his arms and shifted his weight to them, his fingers digging into the mattress as Harry moved at a torturous pace. Draco felt every inch of Harry stretching him wide, filling him up. Then Harry stopped, his hips flush against Draco's arse, and he leaned over, resting his forehead between Draco's shoulder blades.

“Fuck,” Harry said again, his raspy breath hot against Draco's skin. His fingers dug into Draco's hips, but he otherwise remained still. Draco gave an experimental squeeze and Harry inhaled sharply in response.

“God, wait—you're going to make me come-” Harry said shakily.

“Then move-” Draco clenched his muscles again and Harry groaned, sliding in a hair further as he righted himself.

“Should have known you'd be a demanding arse,” Harry managed between laboured breaths as he pulled out and pushed back in, still taking his sweet time. Draco would have complained but the burn was easing, and Draco luxuriated in the slow building of pleasure that ramped up with every thrust. Harry's hands were moving now, sliding up Draco's sides and over his back. Draco's skin felt so sensitive that every caress made him tremble; he wanted Harry's hands everywhere, the sensations too much and not enough all at once.

“You wouldn't have me any other way,” Draco panted. He wiggled his arse and pushed back in time with Harry's next thrust and they moaned together.

“Fuck yes—fuck yourself on me.” Harry was practically growling then. His nails came into play, scraping twin paths down Draco's sides as Draco arched his back and sped up his rhythm. It wasn't long before Harry bucked into him once more, then they both were moving furiously. Draco's elbows gave way and his head collapsed onto his forearms just as he felt Harry pulse inside him. Harry clutched Draco's hips and gave one final thrust; Draco clenched his muscles again and Harry came with a shout, nails digging into Draco's skin.

Draco expected Harry to collapse on top of him, but Harry only took a shaky breath and pulled out gently before he turned Draco over on his back.

“Good, you didn't come yet,” he said, and with no further warning, he dropped down between Draco's sprawled legs and engulfed Draco's cock in one go. The sudden heat of Harry's mouth tipped Draco over the edge. His orgasm rushed through him in a blaze, and he canted his hips and came with a hoarse cry, spilling himself into Harry's mouth.


Draco sank into the bed, boneless and weary and pleasantly sore all over. Harry shifted and lay his head on Draco's stomach, his wild messy hair tickling Draco's skin. Draco thought about pushing him off, but he couldn't muster the energy. And if he were honest with himself, Harry was pretty comfortable. Even if he was now amusing himself by fiddling with Draco's belly button.

“You're like a two year old,” Draco sighed, though he couldn't hide the fondness from his voice. Harry looked up, his lips drawing into their usual faintly amused smile. He patted Draco's stomach and finally stilled.

“So...why did you think I invited you to dinner?”

“Hmm?” Draco said. His fingers found their way into Harry's surprisingly soft hair, somehow not the tangled mess it appeared to be. “Oh, well...the conspiracy, of course.”

“Conspiracy?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. The monsters, the slime, Unspeakables taking over the Ministry—I know I'm a good fuck, Potter, but surely you remember,” Draco added and a light dawned in Harry's eyes. His smile grew.

“Oh...so when you said you'd sussed it out, you thought--”

“Yes,” Draco admitted. A light blush arose on his cheeks but he refused to be embarrassed. Malfoys did not embarrass that easily. “However, I'm not...disappointed I was wrong.”

“Good,” Harry said. He turned to settle back down on Draco's stomach again, but Draco tugged on his hair, holding his gaze.

“We really should discuss it.”

Harry groaned. “Draco-”

“The entire Wizarding World could be doomed because you couldn't resist shagging me.”

“There's no conspiracy,” Harry said as he crawled up Draco's body, and Draco momentarily lost his train of thought watching Harry's arm muscles flex with the movement. He came to rest hovering over Draco, knees pressed against Draco's inner thighs. Draco breath came short.

“You're trying to distract me, aren't you?” Draco's hands fell to Harry's shoulders and he shamelessly mapped the breadth of them. Harry still cut a lean figure, but he was no longer the scrawny underfed youth at Hogwarts.

“Is it working?” Harry murmured, and the promise in his voice stirred desire low in Draco's belly once more. Merlin, he'd just come and spectacularly at that, yet he was already craving Harry's touch deep inside him.

“No,” Draco said, but his voice had gone soft as Harry dragged his spent cock along the crook of Draco's thigh. Draco shifted ever so slightly to move with him and he could already feel Harry growing hard again, his own cock stirring to life with its touch.

“Liar,” Harry said. He dipped down and brushed their lips together, but pulled back when Draco angled for a deeper kiss. Draco groaned in frustration.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling. Draco tangled his fingers into Harry's hair and yanked him down hard.

“After,” Draco decided, then he crushed their lips together.

The Wizarding World would just have to wait.


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