wanking_mods (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} wanking_mods) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} hp_wankfest,@ 2008-05-01 18:00:00 |
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Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin Common Room with Veritaserum
Title: How to Handle an Enemy
Author:who_la_hoop
Character: Draco Malfoy
Location: Slytherin common room
Object: Veritaserum
Other Characters: Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Harry/Draco pairing heavily implied
Word Count: ~7,500
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended
Author's Notes: Set after DH – the war is over and all the 7th year students have returned to Hogwarts to finish their studies. Many thanks to my betas for all their help, and thanks to the mods for running such an amusing fest. I may be the only person who can make a wanking fic last 7.5k words, and for this I refuse to apologise :D
Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate…
"I think," Blaise said airily, stretching out on the sofa and looking at us with a smug expression, "we should play truth or dare."
Pansy snorted and wrinkled her nose. "What fun is that?" she asked, looking down at her nails appraisingly, before smiling. Evidently they pleased her. "You know we all always pick truth, and then lie through our back teeth."
Blaise looked even smugger. He took a vial out of his pocket and tossed it lightly from one hand to the other.
As a Slytherin I have a finely honed sense for danger, and it was at that point that I started to get seriously worried. A colourless liquid? A game of truth or dare? If that wasn’t Veritaserum then Blaise wasn’t the infuriating bastard that I knew and appreciated.
I mean, honestly. Who wants to tell the truth in truth or dare? Well, maybe someone from another house. They’re usually so delightfully gullible, and ready to spill their deepest secrets. Take your average Hufflepuff – and, oh god, please do take them, preferably somewhere far, far away. He or she is almost guaranteed to be incomprehensibly honest. Almost takes the fun out of it, really. A Slytherin, on the other hand, has a rather more flexible attitude to truth. Some house stereotypes exist for a reason. This one? Happens to be true.
Blaise's suggestion - a game of truth or dare where we actually told the truth - was so disgustingly Slytherin that it was quite, quite offensive. Why would I want to reveal my weaknesses to those who would have no qualms against using them for nefarious purposes?
"Blaise," I began and then paused. It had taken a great deal of work to regain the respect I once had amongst my fellow Slytherins, and I was well aware that I was still on rather shaky ground. Objecting to a stupid game would make me look stupid. I am not, and never have been, prepared to look like an idiot.
Blaise eyed me with an insufferable smirk on his face. "Problem, Draco?" he asked. "Scared?"
I attempted not to flush, but with such a pale complexion as mine, it's such an effort not to show any colour. It was unthinkable that I should let him get away with calling me a coward, but unless I was careful I’d find myself drugged up and spilling. And you know what? I didn’t particularly care to share. What the hell was Blaise up to?
I shrugged, pulling my best disdainful expression. "No, I just think it’s a little childish."
Blaise flushed, and I hoped that I’d hit the right tone. Now if he decided to go ahead, he’d be admitting that he was immature.
"Don’t be such a spoilsport, darling," Daphne said, flashing a smile in my direction. She looked positively wicked, the bitch. "We haven’t had any fun at all since we’ve come back to Hogwarts. All doom and gloom. This is exactly what we need."
This, you see, is the reason why you should always treat women equally. If you show more attention to one, then the other kicks you while you’re down. I tried to look impassive, but it took some effort to restrain myself from nudging Pansy. I’d treated her well; now it was time for her to come to my aid, surely?
Pansy was still admiring her nails, seemingly unaware of the conversation.
I tried not to grind my teeth.
"Pansy, want to play?" Blaise asked, leaning over to catch her hand and tug her onto his lap.
She giggled and looked over at me, her expression shifting into something worrying. She looked like a girl with a specific question on her mind. One that involved dress robes and – ugh – tender vows. If she had the guts to ask my intentions in front of her friends, the answer would make her want to garrotte me. She’d probably try, too, the charming bitch.
"Yes please, Blaisey," Pansy said, slapping Blaise’s hand away from her leg, but leaning into his arms. "It could be fun. After all, everyone else is asleep so we have the common room all cosy to ourselves."
Oh yes, it was completely private. Completely private, with three of the biggest gossips in the whole of history, ever. How very reassuring.
Blaise smiled at me, but it failed to have its usual stimulating effect. He’s a sexy young man, is Blaise, and his finely honed arrogance usually only adds to it. Right now, however, I felt a bit like hexing him. I would have, too, if it weren't so contrary to my breeding to curse a fellow snake.
It wasn’t that I was worried about them asking about Voldemort – I doubted that they would. Not because they were worried about my mental stability, you understand. No, the petty details of my time as the Dark Lord’s minion were simply not good enough blackmail material. Everyone knew what I’d been; what I’d done. Truth or dare is for those dirty little secrets you’d rather die than have your parents know. Merlin knows I have enough of them.
"Draco?" Blaise asked.
"Fine," I replied, trying not to scowl as I mentally catalogued the number of items I was wearing. It wasn’t nearly enough. It is best to be clad as if one were travelling to an arctic region when one plays any kind of game with Slytherins. One never knows when the dread words "strip poker" will be invoked.
Pansy – damn her – reached into her bag and drew out a bottle of Firewhiskey, splashing four rather generous measures into some glasses. Daphne giggled, covering her mouth, and Pansy joined in, slopping the Firewhiskey about as she passed the glasses around.
"Bottoms up!" Daphne said, and she and Pansy giggled some more.
Did I mention how little I like girls?
I sat down on the couch opposite theirs and tried not to look petulant. The Firewhiskey helped a little – warm and burning on its way down my throat – but not enough.
"Slughorn will hear us," I muttered, as I held out my glass for refilling. Slughorn was a good Head of House and I doubted that he would care if he caught us – he’d probably want to join in, damn him – but I was a desperate man, and if clutching at straws could save me, then I would bloody well clutch at as many as I could find.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Take the poker out of your arse, Draco. Relax." He cast a sturdy locking spell on the common room door, and a silencing spell for good measure. It wouldn’t keep anyone out for long, but at least we’d be warned if someone tried to intrude. "Right, who’s going first?"
There wasn’t exactly a rush of enthusiasm.
"It was my idea, so I think it’s only fair that I should," Blaise continued, smirking. "Draco? Why don’t you ask me a question?"
A glimmer of hope rose in me, as I tried to work out whether this would be a good idea or not. Blaise hadn’t made a move to introduce the Veritaserum into the proceedings. He was evidently bargaining on the fact that if I brought it up then I would also have to take it. But if I didn’t… then there was no reason why he couldn’t suddenly ‘remember’ it himself, and I would be screwed. It was a tricky situation.
Pansy, damn it, solved it for me. "But Blaise, darling, did you forget the Veritaserum?"
Blaise looked rather taken aback for a moment and then smiled, deftly withdrawing the vial from his pocket and tipping it to his mouth.
"Truth or dare?" I asked, suspiciously.
"Let’s hear the options first," he said with a lazy grin.
"Oh, Blaisey, that’s cheating," Pansy said, with a mock shocked expression.
"So sue me."
"Draco, dearest, may I ask?" Daphne said, leaning over to touch my arm with a seductive smile.
I shrugged and motioned her to go ahead. I liked this less and less. The whole thing smelled like a set-up.
"Do you fancy me?" Daphne asked, with nary a blush.
Blaise grinned. "I’ll take truth, my dear. The answer is…" He paused dramatically. "I do."
Daphne laughed. "You fancy all women."
Blaise smirked and held his arms wide. "You’ve got me there, Daphne." He turned to me, his smile suddenly sharper.
That's when I realised that I hadn’t actually seen if he’d drunk any of the sodding Veritaserum. Sure, he’d tipped the vial up against his mouth, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. And now he’d dripped a quantity into my Firewhiskey and was holding the glass out to me.
"Drink," he said, without even the decency to look ashamed.
Not seeing what else I could do, I drank. I held the liquid in my mouth for a moment, but the taste was really quite disturbing and, unless I spat the vile stuff all over Pansy, there was no way out of it.
"I want to ask," Pansy said.
"Fine," I replied, before Blaise could object. Anyone else was preferable at this point.
Then Pansy looked at Daphne and giggled, and I regretted my decision.
"I want to know the options first," I said, using my haughty voice.
Daphne laughed. "Truth. Or dare. Honestly, Draco."
I scowled. That was the problem with friends: they could see right through you, half the time. "You know what I mean."
Pansy took a big swig of Firewhiskey from the bottle and I winced. Daphne had shifted closer towards Pansy, a protective arm slung around her.
I steeled myself. If she asked if I was planning to marry her… I didn't dislike her, as such. She was all right as far as girls went., and an adequate ally in many ways. But we hadn’t even gone as far as kissing – though she’d made it perfectly clear that she was willing to lock lips with me. The problem was: I wasn’t. Not with her, and not with any other girl, sod it all.
"I want to know…" Pansy said, and blushed.
"You need to phrase it as a question, or the Veritaserum won’t work," Blaise grinned.
Pansy looked at Daphne, and Daphne nodded. They broke into a fresh round of giggles. My blood ran cold. Surely she wouldn’t be giggling about something so serious to her future? What in Merlin’s name were they planning on asking?
"Tell me, darling, whom you picture when you touch yourself," Pansy finally said, between snorts of laughter. "Whom do you fantasise about when you wank?"
I could feel the Veritaserum tugging at me, demanding that I tell the truth and tell it now. I managed to squeeze out, through teeth gritted in anger, "the dare?"
Pansy looked disappointed for a moment, and then smiled at Daphne. "Kiss Blaise. With tongues, boys."
Blaise looked horrified, and turned to me in appeal.
I shrugged. Kissing him was infinitely preferable to confessing whom I pictured in the throes of self-pleasure. Which was, come to think of it, something I would rather die than let either of those two harpies know. Not that Blaise was much better, damn him. This entire situation was his fault.
I launched myself at him, pressing my mouth hard on his and pushing my tongue against his lips until he opened up with a faint splutter. He tasted of Firewhiskey, pure and undiluted as far as I could tell. No Veritaserum, the bastard. I prolonged the kiss as far as I possibly could, taking amusement from shoving myself against him until I felt him harden. He was as straight as straight could be, but I rather prided myself on the quality of my kisses. Not that I've had that much practice, but a Malfoy is expected to be the best at all he does, and I had read up a great deal on the subject.
I pulled away and looked down with a raised eyebrow at his crotch. I was, thankfully, unmoved in that way. Even a small victory can be a meaningful one.
Pansy and Daphne looked rather flushed and they were whispering to each other. Blaise evidently thought it best to take his revenge in kind, and soon Pansy and Daphne were kissing each other in a manner that seemed nicely calculated to send Blaise’s – and, no doubt, my own – blood pressure through the roof. It was mildly entertaining and I made sure I looked interested just in case any of the three decided to glance at me. They didn’t, of course, but one can never be too careful.
Daphne pulled away and looked speculatively first at me, and then at Blaise. I took the opportunity to grab the Firewhiskey bottle and take a large swig. The small quantity of Veritaserum was still very much present in my system, but I thought I could fight it if I diluted it enough.
"Blaise, truth or dare?"
Blaise shifted slightly, evidently under the erroneous impression that that would hide his erection. "Dare."
Daphne didn’t look surprised. When her eyes flickered, all my misgivings came back to me. She looked like a girl with a plan. "As Draco refused to tell us whom he wanks over…" She gave me a sly look. "I dare you to bring whomever you think it is to the common room, now. Use whatever means necessary."
I snorted. "That’s hardly fair."
"Nothing’s fair in love and war," Daphne replied, a touch cattily, I thought.
"Blaise?" I asked. It was too much to ask that he’d refuse the dare, of course. The fact that it was completely against the spirit of the game only made it more likely that he’d accept.
Blaise frowned, glancing from myself to Daphne. "I have to confess, darling, that I’m not sure whom you mean me to collect."
Daphne beckoned him over. "I’ll whisper."
I looked at them suspiciously. Pansy was smiling, like someone who knew exactly what was coming. This did not bode well.
Blaise’s jaw all but dropped, and he turned to stare at me. "Never?"
Daphne laughed. "Oh, yes. Pansy and I are certain."
Blaise shrugged. "Okay, but if they murder each other then I’m not taking any responsibility."
Blaise whispered something in Pansy’s ear, before leaving the room. I grabbed the Firewhiskey bottle and had a rather large swallow, before setting it back down on the table.
"Do you know how painful your deaths will be if he’s gone to get who I think he has?" I announced, glaring at each of the girls in turn. This was no time for subtlety. "I have no idea how you know – if you know – but I swear to you…" I managed to catch myself just in time. I still had hopes, you see, that they had screwed up badly and some awful Hufflepuff girl would enter through the door.
The problem was, you see, that my girls were Slytherins. Slytherins are observant. They take your innermost desires, the things you think you’ve kept hidden, and they pull them into the light and smile sweetly as they fuck you over.
The idea of my father finding out that I…
"We won’t tell anyone," Pansy said, sounding almost upset. She got up, and wrapped her arms around me, pressing my head against her chest.
Many men would have found that a wondrous thing. I just found it suffocating. I tried not to push her away too quickly, for politeness’ sake more than anything else, but eventually it was either that or choke.
When she kissed me on the side of the head, her lips damp, I repressed a shudder and reached for the whiskey bottle. I took a long draught, and only noticed the odd sour taste of Veritaserum when it was too late. For a clear, odourless liquid it packs a surprising punch on the taste-buds. Which wasn’t really the point.
"Fucking hell, Daphne, you’ve spiked the whiskey." It was a statement, not a question. I’m usually quite polite with the fairer sex, but at this moment in time I was ready to commit murder most horrid. A few curse words was restrained, let me tell you.
"Language, Draco," Daphne said, a vicious look in her eye, and I knew that this was her revenge for my not choosing her as my almost-girlfriend, for choosing Pansy. What Pansy got out of this arrangement other than an odd kick at my downfall, I had no idea. I suppose that was enough.
Blaise entered, and my blood ran cold. Absolutely fucking chilly, let me tell you. They had got it right.
It was Harry fucking Potter.
Although how they’d managed to clue into something that I’d done my utmost best to hide even from myself, I had no idea. And now I was brimming with Veritaserum, feeling my mouth already trying to open and let me sing like a canary. In a game of truth or dare. I was absolutely fucked.
Harry's face was absolutely furious. He looked as if he would have been shouting, if he hadn’t been in an obvious full body bind, that is. His eyes were most expressive.
"We’ll let you go if you promise not to yell," Daphne said. "We’re playing truth or dare. Sorry to kidnap you like this. We don’t mean any harm."
Harry didn’t move because, rather obviously, he couldn’t.
Blaise relocked the door before he reversed the spell on Harry who, to my surprise, didn’t yell, just stood there looking bemused if anything. Certainly cockier than I’d be if I’d been kidnapped by a group of Gryffindors, and was trapped without a wand in their common room.
Then Harry pulled out his wand.
"Fuck," Blaise said, and we all tensed.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex you all into tiny pieces," Harry said, rather reasonably, in my opinion.
I hoped he would. Then I wouldn’t have to confess my, frankly disturbing, sexual fantasies about him. The ones I’d been having ever since he saved my life; saved me from being burned to death. My fucking hero. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from launching into them without even being asked. How much of the sodding Veritaserum had Daphne put into the whiskey?
"Have a drink," Pansy said sweetly, handing him a glass of the tainted alcohol.
"What are you, nuts?" Harry said, and I died a little inside at the idea that Harry Potter, lord of impulse idiocy, was cleverer than I was – in this respect at least. "I don’t know what the hell you’ve put in that stuff. Although I bet Malfoy put you up to it, whatever it was."
"I didn’t," I ground out, and then wished I’d bitten my tongue. If he asked me anything – anything at all – I’d be compelled to answer it with utmost sincerity.
Daphne waved her hand at Harry. "Be a dear and don’t speak to Draco right now. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs with Veritaserum, and I’d rather we kept him on the edge for a while longer."
I bit my lip and tried not to explode with anger. Harry looked at me, and his expression was speculative. I knew he would ask me something awful. I almost hoped he would. At least then I might not have to tell him how I felt about him.
"Mind you," Daphne said with an evil glint in her eye. "It is Draco’s turn to answer a question."
I scowled at her. If she asked me a question I would be compelled to answer it before I even had the option of dare, and she knew it.
"Did Blaise get it right?"
I was so relieved at the idea that Harry wouldn’t know what she was talking about that I nearly forgot what I was confessing to. "Yes," I breathed, and would have given anything to take it back.
Harry looked confused. "Can I go now? I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’m not sure I want to be part of it."
"We’re only playing truth or dare," Pansy said. She looked sad for a moment. "I never did get the chance to apologise for what I said, you know, before. I was thinking only of my family and myself. I just didn’t want there to be war."
Pansy looked slightly shifty as she spoke, which convinced me that she was actually telling the truth. Not that telling the truth in a calculated fashion really counts as telling the truth, I think. Only a Gryffindor would fail to see through such a blatant attempt to ingratiate.
"Oh," Harry said and looked uncomfortable. "Right."
"You should play," Pansy said with a sweet smile. "We’re playing with Veritaserum, but we won’t make you take it if you don’t want to. Come on. For the sake of House unity."
Harry seemed unconvinced for a moment and then, to my absolute dismay, sat down next to her. "I suppose it can’t hurt. Though I really can’t believe I’m doing this."
"So, Harry, truth or dare?" Pansy asked.
Harry frowned. "What's your question?"
The girls exchanged glances. "I want to know," Daphne said, nudging Pansy and committing some more of that infernal giggling, "if you fancy Draco."
I tried not to flinch. Harry’s expression remained remarkably impassive. "Or the dare?"
Daphne shrugged. "Oh, I don’t know. Strip down to your boxers."
A faint pink colour stained Harry’s cheeks. Then, to my absolute surprise, he stood up and quickly stripped off the dressing gown he had wrapped around him, so that he was wearing only his pyjama bottoms.
"I’m not wearing any pants," he said, and had the grace to blush. "So I’ll leave these on if that’s okay."
All three of us stared at him. He looked back, appearing slightly embarrassed, but not nearly as much as he should be. My mind was working frantically. He had chosen – voluntarily – to strip off in front of a group of people he no doubt thought of as enemies, rather than answer a question to which the answer was obvious to all of us. Or, as it turned out, not quite so obvious after all.
Pansy smiled at me, a small, slightly uncertain smile. She moved her lips as if to say "are you okay?" and I wondered if she’d suspected that Harry would react that way. How much of a set-up was this? I rather wished I’d never been born.
"Um, I think it’s my turn," Harry said, and I tensed. "So, Blaise," he said, and I relaxed infinitesimally, only to stiffen again as he continued, "why did you hex me and drag me over here to join in with some stupid game? It is the middle of the night," he added pointedly.
Blaise grinned wickedly. "There are two answers to that," he said, and the little fucker actually winked at me. "I was dared to." He paused and I hoped I’d been let off. But it was too much to ask for, really. "Mainly, though, because we want Draco to tell you something."
I glared at him, and he shrugged, stretching out. "My turn. Draco…"
"I’ll take the dare," I interrupted, and then blanched at the smug expression on Blaise’s face.
"Well if you’d taken truth, I would have asked you what you’re thinking about when you make those amusing noises when you wank."
I’m sure – absolutely certain – I went bright red. It was an effort to keep from looking at Harry, but I managed it with a struggle.
"But as you’re going for the dare, I think we should have a performance of it, instead."
Daphne and Pansy squeaked almost in unison and clapped their hands, giggling madly.
I think it would be fair to confess at this point that I wished for nothing other than the floor to swallow me up whole.
"Since, you know," Blaise continued mercilessly, "the object of your affections is now in the room. Never say that we’re not your friends, helping you to fulfil your every fantasy and so on. You owe us, Draco."
On second thoughts, I didn’t want the floor to swallow me up whole. I wanted a Norwegian Horntail to descend upon Blaise and incinerate him, before I sank into the depths. Incinerate him twice, for good measure.
"Because you do think about Harry here, when you’re knocking one off, don’t you?" Blaise continued.
Scratch that. Incineration is much too quick and painless a death. Possibly turning him slowly on a spit over a hot fire would do the job more pleasingly. Then again, there was something to be said for pulling out his innards and coiling them around a stick. Or filling his bones with snake venom.
"Yes," I replied. I didn’t want to, I think you probably realise. The Veritaserum made me. It’s most often used in torture sessions, I’m sure you know. This felt no different. "Fucking hell, is there not any alcohol which isn’t spiked?"
I didn’t dare look at Harry. I’m not a coward, but I do have some feelings, whatever you may think. I dislike public humiliation intensely. Perhaps if I said nothing, then we’d all just go to bed, nothing more said? Blaise, Pansy and Daphne had surely done what they intended to do – grand humiliation on an impressive scale. Wasn’t enough enough?
"I’m going to bed," I said, rising to my feet with only a slight wobble when no alcohol was offered.
Blaise tugged me back. "No you’re not. Not until you’ve done your dare."
"You expect me to have a wank, right in front of you?" I asked incredulously.
"No," Blaise said, grinning, and spun me round. "In front of Potter, here."
He shoved me hard and I nearly fell on top of Harry. I managed to keep myself upright without touching him, but looking him in the eye was unavoidable.
Harry was biting his lip and looking rather… disturbed. Not in a disgusted way. Just, well, embarrassed, I thought. At least he hadn’t fled for his life, but then it’s not every day your enemy confesses he thinks about you when he spanks the monkey. And not in a sick way either. Just a… regular, I think you’re hot way, I suppose. Of course, I am insane for this. I expect to be carted off to the loony bin at any given moment. Of all the people… But I digress.
"No," I said, wishing I could look away from Harry but finding it extraordinarily difficult. Harry has these rather amazing green eyes, you see. I tried to sneer, but my lips felt like they weren’t exactly paying attention. After a moment I forced myself to move away and sat back down on the sofa behind me.
Harry frowned. "I…" he said, and then stopped.
Daphne hooked an arm around him and pulled him closer to her on the sofa. "Sit back, darling. Enjoy the show."
"You have thought about Harry watching you, don’t you?" she asked, turning to me, and I blushed furiously.
"Yes," I bit out through a clenched jaw.
"Well, then."
"My fantasy failed to include you, Pansy and Blaise," I felt moved to add.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "I’m hurt, Draco." He shrugged. "What if we fucked off and left you two to it?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "That would be an excellent plan."
Pansy smirked and nudged Daphne. "Tough. A dare’s a dare."
"I already answered the truth part," I countered.
"Only after you’d accepted the dare."
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. I think perhaps it was that when I glanced over at Harry he was looking rather red-faced. When I caught his eye he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He had his arms wrapped rather tensely around his bare torso, but when I looked down… sweet Merlin… there was a bulge that signified a rather interesting reaction.
"Pants on," I said firmly.
"Agreed," Blaise said, and the girls smirked and whispered in each other’s ears.
"I’m going to kill you all for this," I muttered.
Blaise grinned at me, and I scowled back. It seemed there was no retreat. Not without significant damage to my reputation, that was.
So then I did something I’d never done before in mixed company. Never done in company at all, come to think of it, unless you count my bed in the dormitory in the darkness. Which hardly counts at all. I shifted about a bit until I was comfortable – I’m not used to doing it sitting up, you see – and slid my hand under the waistband of my pyjama bottoms.
I looked over at Harry – all my dignity suddenly dissipated, it seemed – and, fucking hell, his eyes were locked onto my crotch. As were all eyes in the room, it looked like, but his were the only ones that mattered.
I had, of course, always rather liked the idea of having a wank while Harry watched, possibly tied up and unable to deal with his own growing erection. Not my favourite fantasy, which was certainly more lewd and involved several different orifices, but certainly my favourite wanking fantasy. I’d never expected to actually do anything about it. Us Slytherins can be rather traditional and coy when it comes to the sexual act, believe it or not. But mainly because it was Harry, and why the hell should I give him the opportunity to have one over on me yet again?
Nevertheless, when he looked up, and caught my eye – his face flaming with something that was more arousal than embarrassment – I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so turned on.
It would have been better if Daphne and Pansy hadn’t been whispering, but they both were rather wide-eyed and red-faced, so I didn’t think they’d put me off too much.
It’s an odd feeling to have your cock in your hand in a room full of other people. Perverts, I suppose, have done it. Those who like orgies. A certain type of public school boy. I had never particularly fancied the idea, but, feeling all eyes upon the movement of my hand beneath my thin pyjama bottoms, I began to see the point.
The head of my cock was damp from pre-come, and when I swirled my thumb across it I couldn’t stop myself from jerking with pleasure. I’ve always appreciated a wet wank rather than a dry one. The sensations are… stronger, perhaps. Skin gliding smoothly against skin; the sensation is divine. Plus, if we’re being crude, the liquid prevents chafing. But I could hardly ask for lube in company, could I?
I slid my hand up and down my cock a few times, already biting my lip and starting to sweat. Which was ridiculous. I had to slow right down for fear of embarrassing myself completely. When I looked up I found myself staring right into Harry’s bright green eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips for a fraction of a second as he licked them and I had to clench all my muscles extra hard to stop myself from coming then and there.
A thought occurred to me, and I wondered if I dared. But hey, in for a knut in for a galleon, as they say.
I slid my hand out of my pants and got up, trying not to blush at the way my trousers tented at the crotch.
Blaise started to speak, but Pansy shushed him quickly.
I took a tentative step towards Harry and then sank to my knees in front of him.
He looked extremely nervous and this gave me heart. The more embarrassed – and yes, complicit, I suppose – he was, the less likely he was to share this interesting experience with the whole school.
I held out my hand. "Spit," I said. A little tasteless, I admit, but sometimes a blunt way of phrasing is the best.
Harry looked uncertain for a moment, and then interested.
"I will if you, you know, pull them down," he mumbled.
I thought about it for, oh, at least a split second.
"If you do it for me." I wondered if he would. If he realised quite what he would be admitting to if he did so.
"Okay," he said, and blushed, leaning forward and tugging my pyjama bottoms down in one deft move.
I shuddered as the material caught on my cock, before it sprang free from its confines. Harry’s hands trailed down my sides with more care than I would have thought possible, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second too long.
I hoped he wouldn’t ask me any questions, because who knows what awful mush might come out of my mouth. It was ironic, I suppose, that the one man I had the most reason to hate had become the one man with the greatest capacity to undo me. I’d tried not to examine my attraction to Harry too closely, for fear I would be so revolted by my own passions that I'd have to scrub my brain out with soap, but I think it was safe to say that – in a sick kind of a way – I admired him, as well as desired him. It was, Merlin help me, the first pangs of love, I suspect.
I held out my hand to Harry’s mouth. "Go on," I said, when he hesitated.
His mouth twisted with embarrassment for a moment before he did as requested. His spit was bizarrely cool against my palm, and when I slicked my length with it I couldn’t help but shudder from the cold, wet sensation. I looked up at Harry. His mouth was ajar and his eyes were locked on my hand, watching me coat my aching cock with his spit.
"Do you really… you know… think about me, while you?" Harry asked, his voice low and quiet.
"Fuck, yes," I said before the words were hardly out of his mouth, and couldn’t even feel embarrassed by it. Because really, if he didn’t believe that when I was on my knees in front of him, cock out, trembling with lust, then he really was the idiot I used to think he was, and there was no hope for either of us. Insanity beckoned. But since Harry sodding Potter looked like he was absolutely transfixed by the sight of my hand slicking up my cock with his saliva, I was quite happy to take the fast Floo to the Janus Thickey ward.
There was silence for a bit. Well, apart from the delicious squelching noise that a wet cock makes when it’s being thoroughly pleasured. I was trying to take my time, but when you’re as aroused as I was it’s a bit of a challenge.
Mind you, I’m a Slytherin. We aim to impress at all times. So there was no way I was going to let myself come in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Some things are worse than death, you see. I am nothing if not proud.
I gritted my teeth and managed to slow down, reaching down to fondle my balls. The sensation was pleasurable, but not enough to tip me over the edge. My cock was rock hard and throbbing, and even the faint breeze circulating through the room was both torture and bliss.
I looked over at Blaise. He had the heel of his hand pressed hard against the crotch of his pyjama bottoms and he was biting his lip as he watched me. Yes, Draco Malfoy, turner of straight boys by the power of my cock, that’s me. "Go on, rub it," I said, with a sneer in his direction. Which was, very possibly, a mistake. Given that I was still very much under the influence of the Veritaserum, fuck it.
Blaise’s expression twisted, and then he looked wicked. As wicked as a straight boy can, when he’s surreptitiously rubbing his cock through his trousers as he watches another boy wank, that is. Which is still quite wicked if you’re a Slytherin. We do well.
"I think Draco needs to follow some instructions. I think you’d like Potter to tell you what to do, wouldn’t you?" Blaise said.
Oh, the humiliation. My face burned. "Yes," I ground out from between clenched teeth. The idea of Harry talking, telling me what to do, ordering me about… Well. It was both a torment and a total turn-on. Surrendering myself to my greatest rival. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it can’t be anything particularly good. I know I’m a bit fucked up after the war, after… But honestly. Sometimes I can’t believe the way my mind works.
"Go on, Potter," Blaise said mercilessly, and I realised that this was as embarrassing for Harry as it was for me. Blaise was taking his revenge on the Boy Who Got Our Families Interrogated, Humiliated and Imprisoned.
Harry was red-faced, but he looked back at Blaise with a kind of cocky confidence that I admired. "You’re just jealous he doesn’t want you," he said simply, and then looked a bit surprised at his words. Hell, I bet I looked surprised at his words.
"Give me your hand," Harry all but whispered to me.
My face flamed as I offered it to him, damp from his saliva and my pre-come.
He licked it speculatively, swirling his tongue over my palm and sucking gently at my fingertips. The movement of his tongue over my hand sent shivers directly to my groin, and I bucked into the empty air, desperate to rub my aching cock against something – anything – to gain relief.
Harry spat on my hand. "Rub it all over," he said in a ghost of a voice. "Slowly."
I did as requested. Honestly, if I’d moved even a fraction faster, I would have come. As it was, I was clenching all my muscles, my balls tight and my cock throbbing, aching, begging for a firm grip and a quick release.
"I want you to, you know – but stop before you come," Harry muttered, shifting in his seat.
I bit my lip, and curled my hand tight around my cock, taking long, slow strokes, as gently as I could.
"Harder."
"Fucking hell, Harry." What was he trying to do, kill me? I could only take a couple of hard tugs before I had to stop, feeling rather shamed.
When I glanced at Harry he was biting his lip, his forehead beaded with sweat. He’d made no attempt to touch himself, however, and I was slightly offended. A quick glance at Blaise showed that he’d abandoned all pretence, and was rubbing himself hard through his pyjamas. Even Pansy and Daphne could have been up to anything under their voluminous dressing gowns, but I didn’t particularly care to take a closer look. There are some things that will wilt an erection even under such circumstances as these, and I was in no mood to be put off my stroke.
"Aren’t you turned on?" I asked Harry, and wanted to kick myself. I was a little drunk, sure, but not that drunk. Merlin.
Harry wet his lips. "Completely," he murmured. "Now count to ten and start again."
I did so. And again. And again. And again. Until it got to the point – fucking, fucking hell – where I could barely take one stroke before I had to stop, and I was aching, dying, absolutely screaming for release.
"I hate you," I muttered, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of my forehead, my whole body quivering.
"Do you?" Harry asked mildly, and I could have kicked myself for such an amateur error.
"No," I had to reply, the Veritaserum pushing my answer screaming to my lips. "I don’t."
Harry leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide, his tongue sliding out to coat his lips with the same wetness that slicked my throbbing penis.
Honestly, kill me now.
"I’d like to watch you come now," he murmured, and his eyes dropped to my cock.
Hell, I wasn’t going to complain. I fisted my cock hard and fast, arousal spreading and building until my thighs were shaking. I could barely keep myself upright. My face was burning. I could hear – almost like another person – myself pant and groan. A few hard strokes and I tipped over the edge into orgasm. I gripped my cock close to my body. My come splashed onto my stomach, across my chest, throbbing spurt after throbbing spurt. It was divine – and it was horrendous. On one hand, Harry fucking Potter had directed me to orgasm, and left me on my knees before him, coated in his saliva, splashed with my jizz. Charming, I know. And on the other hand, well… Harry fucking Potter had just talked me into coming, and … well, so on. Willingly.
In other words, the situation could go either way. Either I was doomed to complete humiliation, or – and it was a big or – I was going to get some very hot sex in the near future. It seemed unlikely that Harry would just let it go. I know that I wouldn’t have, if I were in his situation. And that was entirely discounting how Blaise and the girls wanted to play it. If Harry decided that silence was the way to go, then I was in for some fairly hefty blackmailing, no doubt about it.
Although, when I looked at Blaise, I made sure he noticed that I had noticed the spreading wet patch at his crotch. Two can play a game of blackmail, after all.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Harry Potter only went and leaned forward, tugged my hand towards him, and – get this – licked it. Harry fucking Potter, licking my come off my hand. Funny how a soft, warm tongue – oh Merlin – is a bolt of pure arousal, zinging directly to the groin. I was hard in an instant. Embarrassing, perhaps, but seriously showing off my excellent staying power and stamina.
Then he dropped my hand, leaned further forward and, for one delirious, heart-stopping moment I thought he was actually going to touch my cock. But the bastard simply bent down – his face far too close to my genitals for my own sanity – and tugged up my pyjama bottoms with a quirky grin.
And then he whispered something in my ear and sauntered out of the common room, making short work of the locking spell on the door with a quickly muttered spell.
I turned to Blaise and the girls, trying to keep my face impassive. They all looked a little stunned.
After a short silence Pansy laughed. "Well, that was something different, darling. It’s lovely to see a new side of an old friend, I always think."
That certainly broke the tension in the atmosphere.
Blaise grinned. "Watching you two girls watching Draco was certainly a turn-on," he said pointedly.
I snorted. "You know you want me, lover boy. You couldn’t take your eyes off me." I smiled sweetly at him. "I never knew you had it in you."
Blaise rolled his eyes and I knew I had him by the balls. He wouldn’t tell anyone, for fear of what I’d reveal in return. A straight boy turned on by another boy wanking? Dear me, what would his mother think.
The girls, on the other hand, were a different story. What did they have to lose by spreading tales?
"It was certainly an… entertaining show," Daphne said with a glint in her eye. "I think we should play truth or dare more often."
Her suggestion hung in the air, and the unspoken request behind it.
"I wonder what dares Harry would carry out?" Pansy said thoughtfully, and Daphne snickered, setting Pansy off too.
"Well, he won’t carry out anything if you two don’t keep this a secret," I said slowly.
"Is that a promise?" Pansy said and looked surprised at her own daring.
I nodded. So that was the game they were playing. They wanted to… sweet Merlin, watch a repeat performance. What a pair of tarts. Not that I minded, come to think of it. Not much. Not if it meant… I flushed at my own thoughts.
"Shall we to bed?" Daphne asked, stretching and yawning.
Pansy nodded, and the two quickly broke the locking spell and sauntered out of the room, leaving Blaise and myself staring at each other.
I smiled seductively at Blaise and, as I predicted, this made him nervous enough to leave me in the common room and go up to bed alone. I slung on my robe and stood up, my heart beating wildly.
After all, I now had the password to the Gryffindor dormitories and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
It was time for a repeat performance. By special request of Harry fucking Potter himself, no less. It would have been rude to turn down his invitation to come.
Sometimes, the best way to treat your enemies is with politeness, don’t you agree?
Title: How to Handle an Enemy
Author:
who_la_hoopCharacter: Draco Malfoy
Location: Slytherin common room
Object: Veritaserum
Other Characters: Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Harry/Draco pairing heavily implied
Word Count: ~7,500
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended
Author's Notes: Set after DH – the war is over and all the 7th year students have returned to Hogwarts to finish their studies. Many thanks to my betas for all their help, and thanks to the mods for running such an amusing fest. I may be the only person who can make a wanking fic last 7.5k words, and for this I refuse to apologise :D
Everyone knows that it’s no fun playing truth or dare with a Slytherin. But add a little Veritaserum, a scheming duo of Slytherin girls and surprising things can be revealed. Particularly about the fine line between love and hate…
"I think," Blaise said airily, stretching out on the sofa and looking at us with a smug expression, "we should play truth or dare."
Pansy snorted and wrinkled her nose. "What fun is that?" she asked, looking down at her nails appraisingly, before smiling. Evidently they pleased her. "You know we all always pick truth, and then lie through our back teeth."
Blaise looked even smugger. He took a vial out of his pocket and tossed it lightly from one hand to the other.
As a Slytherin I have a finely honed sense for danger, and it was at that point that I started to get seriously worried. A colourless liquid? A game of truth or dare? If that wasn’t Veritaserum then Blaise wasn’t the infuriating bastard that I knew and appreciated.
I mean, honestly. Who wants to tell the truth in truth or dare? Well, maybe someone from another house. They’re usually so delightfully gullible, and ready to spill their deepest secrets. Take your average Hufflepuff – and, oh god, please do take them, preferably somewhere far, far away. He or she is almost guaranteed to be incomprehensibly honest. Almost takes the fun out of it, really. A Slytherin, on the other hand, has a rather more flexible attitude to truth. Some house stereotypes exist for a reason. This one? Happens to be true.
Blaise's suggestion - a game of truth or dare where we actually told the truth - was so disgustingly Slytherin that it was quite, quite offensive. Why would I want to reveal my weaknesses to those who would have no qualms against using them for nefarious purposes?
"Blaise," I began and then paused. It had taken a great deal of work to regain the respect I once had amongst my fellow Slytherins, and I was well aware that I was still on rather shaky ground. Objecting to a stupid game would make me look stupid. I am not, and never have been, prepared to look like an idiot.
Blaise eyed me with an insufferable smirk on his face. "Problem, Draco?" he asked. "Scared?"
I attempted not to flush, but with such a pale complexion as mine, it's such an effort not to show any colour. It was unthinkable that I should let him get away with calling me a coward, but unless I was careful I’d find myself drugged up and spilling. And you know what? I didn’t particularly care to share. What the hell was Blaise up to?
I shrugged, pulling my best disdainful expression. "No, I just think it’s a little childish."
Blaise flushed, and I hoped that I’d hit the right tone. Now if he decided to go ahead, he’d be admitting that he was immature.
"Don’t be such a spoilsport, darling," Daphne said, flashing a smile in my direction. She looked positively wicked, the bitch. "We haven’t had any fun at all since we’ve come back to Hogwarts. All doom and gloom. This is exactly what we need."
This, you see, is the reason why you should always treat women equally. If you show more attention to one, then the other kicks you while you’re down. I tried to look impassive, but it took some effort to restrain myself from nudging Pansy. I’d treated her well; now it was time for her to come to my aid, surely?
Pansy was still admiring her nails, seemingly unaware of the conversation.
I tried not to grind my teeth.
"Pansy, want to play?" Blaise asked, leaning over to catch her hand and tug her onto his lap.
She giggled and looked over at me, her expression shifting into something worrying. She looked like a girl with a specific question on her mind. One that involved dress robes and – ugh – tender vows. If she had the guts to ask my intentions in front of her friends, the answer would make her want to garrotte me. She’d probably try, too, the charming bitch.
"Yes please, Blaisey," Pansy said, slapping Blaise’s hand away from her leg, but leaning into his arms. "It could be fun. After all, everyone else is asleep so we have the common room all cosy to ourselves."
Oh yes, it was completely private. Completely private, with three of the biggest gossips in the whole of history, ever. How very reassuring.
Blaise smiled at me, but it failed to have its usual stimulating effect. He’s a sexy young man, is Blaise, and his finely honed arrogance usually only adds to it. Right now, however, I felt a bit like hexing him. I would have, too, if it weren't so contrary to my breeding to curse a fellow snake.
It wasn’t that I was worried about them asking about Voldemort – I doubted that they would. Not because they were worried about my mental stability, you understand. No, the petty details of my time as the Dark Lord’s minion were simply not good enough blackmail material. Everyone knew what I’d been; what I’d done. Truth or dare is for those dirty little secrets you’d rather die than have your parents know. Merlin knows I have enough of them.
"Draco?" Blaise asked.
"Fine," I replied, trying not to scowl as I mentally catalogued the number of items I was wearing. It wasn’t nearly enough. It is best to be clad as if one were travelling to an arctic region when one plays any kind of game with Slytherins. One never knows when the dread words "strip poker" will be invoked.
Pansy – damn her – reached into her bag and drew out a bottle of Firewhiskey, splashing four rather generous measures into some glasses. Daphne giggled, covering her mouth, and Pansy joined in, slopping the Firewhiskey about as she passed the glasses around.
"Bottoms up!" Daphne said, and she and Pansy giggled some more.
Did I mention how little I like girls?
I sat down on the couch opposite theirs and tried not to look petulant. The Firewhiskey helped a little – warm and burning on its way down my throat – but not enough.
"Slughorn will hear us," I muttered, as I held out my glass for refilling. Slughorn was a good Head of House and I doubted that he would care if he caught us – he’d probably want to join in, damn him – but I was a desperate man, and if clutching at straws could save me, then I would bloody well clutch at as many as I could find.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Take the poker out of your arse, Draco. Relax." He cast a sturdy locking spell on the common room door, and a silencing spell for good measure. It wouldn’t keep anyone out for long, but at least we’d be warned if someone tried to intrude. "Right, who’s going first?"
There wasn’t exactly a rush of enthusiasm.
"It was my idea, so I think it’s only fair that I should," Blaise continued, smirking. "Draco? Why don’t you ask me a question?"
A glimmer of hope rose in me, as I tried to work out whether this would be a good idea or not. Blaise hadn’t made a move to introduce the Veritaserum into the proceedings. He was evidently bargaining on the fact that if I brought it up then I would also have to take it. But if I didn’t… then there was no reason why he couldn’t suddenly ‘remember’ it himself, and I would be screwed. It was a tricky situation.
Pansy, damn it, solved it for me. "But Blaise, darling, did you forget the Veritaserum?"
Blaise looked rather taken aback for a moment and then smiled, deftly withdrawing the vial from his pocket and tipping it to his mouth.
"Truth or dare?" I asked, suspiciously.
"Let’s hear the options first," he said with a lazy grin.
"Oh, Blaisey, that’s cheating," Pansy said, with a mock shocked expression.
"So sue me."
"Draco, dearest, may I ask?" Daphne said, leaning over to touch my arm with a seductive smile.
I shrugged and motioned her to go ahead. I liked this less and less. The whole thing smelled like a set-up.
"Do you fancy me?" Daphne asked, with nary a blush.
Blaise grinned. "I’ll take truth, my dear. The answer is…" He paused dramatically. "I do."
Daphne laughed. "You fancy all women."
Blaise smirked and held his arms wide. "You’ve got me there, Daphne." He turned to me, his smile suddenly sharper.
That's when I realised that I hadn’t actually seen if he’d drunk any of the sodding Veritaserum. Sure, he’d tipped the vial up against his mouth, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. And now he’d dripped a quantity into my Firewhiskey and was holding the glass out to me.
"Drink," he said, without even the decency to look ashamed.
Not seeing what else I could do, I drank. I held the liquid in my mouth for a moment, but the taste was really quite disturbing and, unless I spat the vile stuff all over Pansy, there was no way out of it.
"I want to ask," Pansy said.
"Fine," I replied, before Blaise could object. Anyone else was preferable at this point.
Then Pansy looked at Daphne and giggled, and I regretted my decision.
"I want to know the options first," I said, using my haughty voice.
Daphne laughed. "Truth. Or dare. Honestly, Draco."
I scowled. That was the problem with friends: they could see right through you, half the time. "You know what I mean."
Pansy took a big swig of Firewhiskey from the bottle and I winced. Daphne had shifted closer towards Pansy, a protective arm slung around her.
I steeled myself. If she asked if I was planning to marry her… I didn't dislike her, as such. She was all right as far as girls went., and an adequate ally in many ways. But we hadn’t even gone as far as kissing – though she’d made it perfectly clear that she was willing to lock lips with me. The problem was: I wasn’t. Not with her, and not with any other girl, sod it all.
"I want to know…" Pansy said, and blushed.
"You need to phrase it as a question, or the Veritaserum won’t work," Blaise grinned.
Pansy looked at Daphne, and Daphne nodded. They broke into a fresh round of giggles. My blood ran cold. Surely she wouldn’t be giggling about something so serious to her future? What in Merlin’s name were they planning on asking?
"Tell me, darling, whom you picture when you touch yourself," Pansy finally said, between snorts of laughter. "Whom do you fantasise about when you wank?"
I could feel the Veritaserum tugging at me, demanding that I tell the truth and tell it now. I managed to squeeze out, through teeth gritted in anger, "the dare?"
Pansy looked disappointed for a moment, and then smiled at Daphne. "Kiss Blaise. With tongues, boys."
Blaise looked horrified, and turned to me in appeal.
I shrugged. Kissing him was infinitely preferable to confessing whom I pictured in the throes of self-pleasure. Which was, come to think of it, something I would rather die than let either of those two harpies know. Not that Blaise was much better, damn him. This entire situation was his fault.
I launched myself at him, pressing my mouth hard on his and pushing my tongue against his lips until he opened up with a faint splutter. He tasted of Firewhiskey, pure and undiluted as far as I could tell. No Veritaserum, the bastard. I prolonged the kiss as far as I possibly could, taking amusement from shoving myself against him until I felt him harden. He was as straight as straight could be, but I rather prided myself on the quality of my kisses. Not that I've had that much practice, but a Malfoy is expected to be the best at all he does, and I had read up a great deal on the subject.
I pulled away and looked down with a raised eyebrow at his crotch. I was, thankfully, unmoved in that way. Even a small victory can be a meaningful one.
Pansy and Daphne looked rather flushed and they were whispering to each other. Blaise evidently thought it best to take his revenge in kind, and soon Pansy and Daphne were kissing each other in a manner that seemed nicely calculated to send Blaise’s – and, no doubt, my own – blood pressure through the roof. It was mildly entertaining and I made sure I looked interested just in case any of the three decided to glance at me. They didn’t, of course, but one can never be too careful.
Daphne pulled away and looked speculatively first at me, and then at Blaise. I took the opportunity to grab the Firewhiskey bottle and take a large swig. The small quantity of Veritaserum was still very much present in my system, but I thought I could fight it if I diluted it enough.
"Blaise, truth or dare?"
Blaise shifted slightly, evidently under the erroneous impression that that would hide his erection. "Dare."
Daphne didn’t look surprised. When her eyes flickered, all my misgivings came back to me. She looked like a girl with a plan. "As Draco refused to tell us whom he wanks over…" She gave me a sly look. "I dare you to bring whomever you think it is to the common room, now. Use whatever means necessary."
I snorted. "That’s hardly fair."
"Nothing’s fair in love and war," Daphne replied, a touch cattily, I thought.
"Blaise?" I asked. It was too much to ask that he’d refuse the dare, of course. The fact that it was completely against the spirit of the game only made it more likely that he’d accept.
Blaise frowned, glancing from myself to Daphne. "I have to confess, darling, that I’m not sure whom you mean me to collect."
Daphne beckoned him over. "I’ll whisper."
I looked at them suspiciously. Pansy was smiling, like someone who knew exactly what was coming. This did not bode well.
Blaise’s jaw all but dropped, and he turned to stare at me. "Never?"
Daphne laughed. "Oh, yes. Pansy and I are certain."
Blaise shrugged. "Okay, but if they murder each other then I’m not taking any responsibility."
Blaise whispered something in Pansy’s ear, before leaving the room. I grabbed the Firewhiskey bottle and had a rather large swallow, before setting it back down on the table.
"Do you know how painful your deaths will be if he’s gone to get who I think he has?" I announced, glaring at each of the girls in turn. This was no time for subtlety. "I have no idea how you know – if you know – but I swear to you…" I managed to catch myself just in time. I still had hopes, you see, that they had screwed up badly and some awful Hufflepuff girl would enter through the door.
The problem was, you see, that my girls were Slytherins. Slytherins are observant. They take your innermost desires, the things you think you’ve kept hidden, and they pull them into the light and smile sweetly as they fuck you over.
The idea of my father finding out that I…
"We won’t tell anyone," Pansy said, sounding almost upset. She got up, and wrapped her arms around me, pressing my head against her chest.
Many men would have found that a wondrous thing. I just found it suffocating. I tried not to push her away too quickly, for politeness’ sake more than anything else, but eventually it was either that or choke.
When she kissed me on the side of the head, her lips damp, I repressed a shudder and reached for the whiskey bottle. I took a long draught, and only noticed the odd sour taste of Veritaserum when it was too late. For a clear, odourless liquid it packs a surprising punch on the taste-buds. Which wasn’t really the point.
"Fucking hell, Daphne, you’ve spiked the whiskey." It was a statement, not a question. I’m usually quite polite with the fairer sex, but at this moment in time I was ready to commit murder most horrid. A few curse words was restrained, let me tell you.
"Language, Draco," Daphne said, a vicious look in her eye, and I knew that this was her revenge for my not choosing her as my almost-girlfriend, for choosing Pansy. What Pansy got out of this arrangement other than an odd kick at my downfall, I had no idea. I suppose that was enough.
Blaise entered, and my blood ran cold. Absolutely fucking chilly, let me tell you. They had got it right.
It was Harry fucking Potter.
Although how they’d managed to clue into something that I’d done my utmost best to hide even from myself, I had no idea. And now I was brimming with Veritaserum, feeling my mouth already trying to open and let me sing like a canary. In a game of truth or dare. I was absolutely fucked.
Harry's face was absolutely furious. He looked as if he would have been shouting, if he hadn’t been in an obvious full body bind, that is. His eyes were most expressive.
"We’ll let you go if you promise not to yell," Daphne said. "We’re playing truth or dare. Sorry to kidnap you like this. We don’t mean any harm."
Harry didn’t move because, rather obviously, he couldn’t.
Blaise relocked the door before he reversed the spell on Harry who, to my surprise, didn’t yell, just stood there looking bemused if anything. Certainly cockier than I’d be if I’d been kidnapped by a group of Gryffindors, and was trapped without a wand in their common room.
Then Harry pulled out his wand.
"Fuck," Blaise said, and we all tensed.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hex you all into tiny pieces," Harry said, rather reasonably, in my opinion.
I hoped he would. Then I wouldn’t have to confess my, frankly disturbing, sexual fantasies about him. The ones I’d been having ever since he saved my life; saved me from being burned to death. My fucking hero. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from launching into them without even being asked. How much of the sodding Veritaserum had Daphne put into the whiskey?
"Have a drink," Pansy said sweetly, handing him a glass of the tainted alcohol.
"What are you, nuts?" Harry said, and I died a little inside at the idea that Harry Potter, lord of impulse idiocy, was cleverer than I was – in this respect at least. "I don’t know what the hell you’ve put in that stuff. Although I bet Malfoy put you up to it, whatever it was."
"I didn’t," I ground out, and then wished I’d bitten my tongue. If he asked me anything – anything at all – I’d be compelled to answer it with utmost sincerity.
Daphne waved her hand at Harry. "Be a dear and don’t speak to Draco right now. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs with Veritaserum, and I’d rather we kept him on the edge for a while longer."
I bit my lip and tried not to explode with anger. Harry looked at me, and his expression was speculative. I knew he would ask me something awful. I almost hoped he would. At least then I might not have to tell him how I felt about him.
"Mind you," Daphne said with an evil glint in her eye. "It is Draco’s turn to answer a question."
I scowled at her. If she asked me a question I would be compelled to answer it before I even had the option of dare, and she knew it.
"Did Blaise get it right?"
I was so relieved at the idea that Harry wouldn’t know what she was talking about that I nearly forgot what I was confessing to. "Yes," I breathed, and would have given anything to take it back.
Harry looked confused. "Can I go now? I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’m not sure I want to be part of it."
"We’re only playing truth or dare," Pansy said. She looked sad for a moment. "I never did get the chance to apologise for what I said, you know, before. I was thinking only of my family and myself. I just didn’t want there to be war."
Pansy looked slightly shifty as she spoke, which convinced me that she was actually telling the truth. Not that telling the truth in a calculated fashion really counts as telling the truth, I think. Only a Gryffindor would fail to see through such a blatant attempt to ingratiate.
"Oh," Harry said and looked uncomfortable. "Right."
"You should play," Pansy said with a sweet smile. "We’re playing with Veritaserum, but we won’t make you take it if you don’t want to. Come on. For the sake of House unity."
Harry seemed unconvinced for a moment and then, to my absolute dismay, sat down next to her. "I suppose it can’t hurt. Though I really can’t believe I’m doing this."
"So, Harry, truth or dare?" Pansy asked.
Harry frowned. "What's your question?"
The girls exchanged glances. "I want to know," Daphne said, nudging Pansy and committing some more of that infernal giggling, "if you fancy Draco."
I tried not to flinch. Harry’s expression remained remarkably impassive. "Or the dare?"
Daphne shrugged. "Oh, I don’t know. Strip down to your boxers."
A faint pink colour stained Harry’s cheeks. Then, to my absolute surprise, he stood up and quickly stripped off the dressing gown he had wrapped around him, so that he was wearing only his pyjama bottoms.
"I’m not wearing any pants," he said, and had the grace to blush. "So I’ll leave these on if that’s okay."
All three of us stared at him. He looked back, appearing slightly embarrassed, but not nearly as much as he should be. My mind was working frantically. He had chosen – voluntarily – to strip off in front of a group of people he no doubt thought of as enemies, rather than answer a question to which the answer was obvious to all of us. Or, as it turned out, not quite so obvious after all.
Pansy smiled at me, a small, slightly uncertain smile. She moved her lips as if to say "are you okay?" and I wondered if she’d suspected that Harry would react that way. How much of a set-up was this? I rather wished I’d never been born.
"Um, I think it’s my turn," Harry said, and I tensed. "So, Blaise," he said, and I relaxed infinitesimally, only to stiffen again as he continued, "why did you hex me and drag me over here to join in with some stupid game? It is the middle of the night," he added pointedly.
Blaise grinned wickedly. "There are two answers to that," he said, and the little fucker actually winked at me. "I was dared to." He paused and I hoped I’d been let off. But it was too much to ask for, really. "Mainly, though, because we want Draco to tell you something."
I glared at him, and he shrugged, stretching out. "My turn. Draco…"
"I’ll take the dare," I interrupted, and then blanched at the smug expression on Blaise’s face.
"Well if you’d taken truth, I would have asked you what you’re thinking about when you make those amusing noises when you wank."
I’m sure – absolutely certain – I went bright red. It was an effort to keep from looking at Harry, but I managed it with a struggle.
"But as you’re going for the dare, I think we should have a performance of it, instead."
Daphne and Pansy squeaked almost in unison and clapped their hands, giggling madly.
I think it would be fair to confess at this point that I wished for nothing other than the floor to swallow me up whole.
"Since, you know," Blaise continued mercilessly, "the object of your affections is now in the room. Never say that we’re not your friends, helping you to fulfil your every fantasy and so on. You owe us, Draco."
On second thoughts, I didn’t want the floor to swallow me up whole. I wanted a Norwegian Horntail to descend upon Blaise and incinerate him, before I sank into the depths. Incinerate him twice, for good measure.
"Because you do think about Harry here, when you’re knocking one off, don’t you?" Blaise continued.
Scratch that. Incineration is much too quick and painless a death. Possibly turning him slowly on a spit over a hot fire would do the job more pleasingly. Then again, there was something to be said for pulling out his innards and coiling them around a stick. Or filling his bones with snake venom.
"Yes," I replied. I didn’t want to, I think you probably realise. The Veritaserum made me. It’s most often used in torture sessions, I’m sure you know. This felt no different. "Fucking hell, is there not any alcohol which isn’t spiked?"
I didn’t dare look at Harry. I’m not a coward, but I do have some feelings, whatever you may think. I dislike public humiliation intensely. Perhaps if I said nothing, then we’d all just go to bed, nothing more said? Blaise, Pansy and Daphne had surely done what they intended to do – grand humiliation on an impressive scale. Wasn’t enough enough?
"I’m going to bed," I said, rising to my feet with only a slight wobble when no alcohol was offered.
Blaise tugged me back. "No you’re not. Not until you’ve done your dare."
"You expect me to have a wank, right in front of you?" I asked incredulously.
"No," Blaise said, grinning, and spun me round. "In front of Potter, here."
He shoved me hard and I nearly fell on top of Harry. I managed to keep myself upright without touching him, but looking him in the eye was unavoidable.
Harry was biting his lip and looking rather… disturbed. Not in a disgusted way. Just, well, embarrassed, I thought. At least he hadn’t fled for his life, but then it’s not every day your enemy confesses he thinks about you when he spanks the monkey. And not in a sick way either. Just a… regular, I think you’re hot way, I suppose. Of course, I am insane for this. I expect to be carted off to the loony bin at any given moment. Of all the people… But I digress.
"No," I said, wishing I could look away from Harry but finding it extraordinarily difficult. Harry has these rather amazing green eyes, you see. I tried to sneer, but my lips felt like they weren’t exactly paying attention. After a moment I forced myself to move away and sat back down on the sofa behind me.
Harry frowned. "I…" he said, and then stopped.
Daphne hooked an arm around him and pulled him closer to her on the sofa. "Sit back, darling. Enjoy the show."
"You have thought about Harry watching you, don’t you?" she asked, turning to me, and I blushed furiously.
"Yes," I bit out through a clenched jaw.
"Well, then."
"My fantasy failed to include you, Pansy and Blaise," I felt moved to add.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "I’m hurt, Draco." He shrugged. "What if we fucked off and left you two to it?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "That would be an excellent plan."
Pansy smirked and nudged Daphne. "Tough. A dare’s a dare."
"I already answered the truth part," I countered.
"Only after you’d accepted the dare."
I’m not sure what came over me at that moment. I think perhaps it was that when I glanced over at Harry he was looking rather red-faced. When I caught his eye he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He had his arms wrapped rather tensely around his bare torso, but when I looked down… sweet Merlin… there was a bulge that signified a rather interesting reaction.
"Pants on," I said firmly.
"Agreed," Blaise said, and the girls smirked and whispered in each other’s ears.
"I’m going to kill you all for this," I muttered.
Blaise grinned at me, and I scowled back. It seemed there was no retreat. Not without significant damage to my reputation, that was.
So then I did something I’d never done before in mixed company. Never done in company at all, come to think of it, unless you count my bed in the dormitory in the darkness. Which hardly counts at all. I shifted about a bit until I was comfortable – I’m not used to doing it sitting up, you see – and slid my hand under the waistband of my pyjama bottoms.
I looked over at Harry – all my dignity suddenly dissipated, it seemed – and, fucking hell, his eyes were locked onto my crotch. As were all eyes in the room, it looked like, but his were the only ones that mattered.
I had, of course, always rather liked the idea of having a wank while Harry watched, possibly tied up and unable to deal with his own growing erection. Not my favourite fantasy, which was certainly more lewd and involved several different orifices, but certainly my favourite wanking fantasy. I’d never expected to actually do anything about it. Us Slytherins can be rather traditional and coy when it comes to the sexual act, believe it or not. But mainly because it was Harry, and why the hell should I give him the opportunity to have one over on me yet again?
Nevertheless, when he looked up, and caught my eye – his face flaming with something that was more arousal than embarrassment – I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so turned on.
It would have been better if Daphne and Pansy hadn’t been whispering, but they both were rather wide-eyed and red-faced, so I didn’t think they’d put me off too much.
It’s an odd feeling to have your cock in your hand in a room full of other people. Perverts, I suppose, have done it. Those who like orgies. A certain type of public school boy. I had never particularly fancied the idea, but, feeling all eyes upon the movement of my hand beneath my thin pyjama bottoms, I began to see the point.
The head of my cock was damp from pre-come, and when I swirled my thumb across it I couldn’t stop myself from jerking with pleasure. I’ve always appreciated a wet wank rather than a dry one. The sensations are… stronger, perhaps. Skin gliding smoothly against skin; the sensation is divine. Plus, if we’re being crude, the liquid prevents chafing. But I could hardly ask for lube in company, could I?
I slid my hand up and down my cock a few times, already biting my lip and starting to sweat. Which was ridiculous. I had to slow right down for fear of embarrassing myself completely. When I looked up I found myself staring right into Harry’s bright green eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips for a fraction of a second as he licked them and I had to clench all my muscles extra hard to stop myself from coming then and there.
A thought occurred to me, and I wondered if I dared. But hey, in for a knut in for a galleon, as they say.
I slid my hand out of my pants and got up, trying not to blush at the way my trousers tented at the crotch.
Blaise started to speak, but Pansy shushed him quickly.
I took a tentative step towards Harry and then sank to my knees in front of him.
He looked extremely nervous and this gave me heart. The more embarrassed – and yes, complicit, I suppose – he was, the less likely he was to share this interesting experience with the whole school.
I held out my hand. "Spit," I said. A little tasteless, I admit, but sometimes a blunt way of phrasing is the best.
Harry looked uncertain for a moment, and then interested.
"I will if you, you know, pull them down," he mumbled.
I thought about it for, oh, at least a split second.
"If you do it for me." I wondered if he would. If he realised quite what he would be admitting to if he did so.
"Okay," he said, and blushed, leaning forward and tugging my pyjama bottoms down in one deft move.
I shuddered as the material caught on my cock, before it sprang free from its confines. Harry’s hands trailed down my sides with more care than I would have thought possible, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second too long.
I hoped he wouldn’t ask me any questions, because who knows what awful mush might come out of my mouth. It was ironic, I suppose, that the one man I had the most reason to hate had become the one man with the greatest capacity to undo me. I’d tried not to examine my attraction to Harry too closely, for fear I would be so revolted by my own passions that I'd have to scrub my brain out with soap, but I think it was safe to say that – in a sick kind of a way – I admired him, as well as desired him. It was, Merlin help me, the first pangs of love, I suspect.
I held out my hand to Harry’s mouth. "Go on," I said, when he hesitated.
His mouth twisted with embarrassment for a moment before he did as requested. His spit was bizarrely cool against my palm, and when I slicked my length with it I couldn’t help but shudder from the cold, wet sensation. I looked up at Harry. His mouth was ajar and his eyes were locked on my hand, watching me coat my aching cock with his spit.
"Do you really… you know… think about me, while you?" Harry asked, his voice low and quiet.
"Fuck, yes," I said before the words were hardly out of his mouth, and couldn’t even feel embarrassed by it. Because really, if he didn’t believe that when I was on my knees in front of him, cock out, trembling with lust, then he really was the idiot I used to think he was, and there was no hope for either of us. Insanity beckoned. But since Harry sodding Potter looked like he was absolutely transfixed by the sight of my hand slicking up my cock with his saliva, I was quite happy to take the fast Floo to the Janus Thickey ward.
There was silence for a bit. Well, apart from the delicious squelching noise that a wet cock makes when it’s being thoroughly pleasured. I was trying to take my time, but when you’re as aroused as I was it’s a bit of a challenge.
Mind you, I’m a Slytherin. We aim to impress at all times. So there was no way I was going to let myself come in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Some things are worse than death, you see. I am nothing if not proud.
I gritted my teeth and managed to slow down, reaching down to fondle my balls. The sensation was pleasurable, but not enough to tip me over the edge. My cock was rock hard and throbbing, and even the faint breeze circulating through the room was both torture and bliss.
I looked over at Blaise. He had the heel of his hand pressed hard against the crotch of his pyjama bottoms and he was biting his lip as he watched me. Yes, Draco Malfoy, turner of straight boys by the power of my cock, that’s me. "Go on, rub it," I said, with a sneer in his direction. Which was, very possibly, a mistake. Given that I was still very much under the influence of the Veritaserum, fuck it.
Blaise’s expression twisted, and then he looked wicked. As wicked as a straight boy can, when he’s surreptitiously rubbing his cock through his trousers as he watches another boy wank, that is. Which is still quite wicked if you’re a Slytherin. We do well.
"I think Draco needs to follow some instructions. I think you’d like Potter to tell you what to do, wouldn’t you?" Blaise said.
Oh, the humiliation. My face burned. "Yes," I ground out from between clenched teeth. The idea of Harry talking, telling me what to do, ordering me about… Well. It was both a torment and a total turn-on. Surrendering myself to my greatest rival. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it can’t be anything particularly good. I know I’m a bit fucked up after the war, after… But honestly. Sometimes I can’t believe the way my mind works.
"Go on, Potter," Blaise said mercilessly, and I realised that this was as embarrassing for Harry as it was for me. Blaise was taking his revenge on the Boy Who Got Our Families Interrogated, Humiliated and Imprisoned.
Harry was red-faced, but he looked back at Blaise with a kind of cocky confidence that I admired. "You’re just jealous he doesn’t want you," he said simply, and then looked a bit surprised at his words. Hell, I bet I looked surprised at his words.
"Give me your hand," Harry all but whispered to me.
My face flamed as I offered it to him, damp from his saliva and my pre-come.
He licked it speculatively, swirling his tongue over my palm and sucking gently at my fingertips. The movement of his tongue over my hand sent shivers directly to my groin, and I bucked into the empty air, desperate to rub my aching cock against something – anything – to gain relief.
Harry spat on my hand. "Rub it all over," he said in a ghost of a voice. "Slowly."
I did as requested. Honestly, if I’d moved even a fraction faster, I would have come. As it was, I was clenching all my muscles, my balls tight and my cock throbbing, aching, begging for a firm grip and a quick release.
"I want you to, you know – but stop before you come," Harry muttered, shifting in his seat.
I bit my lip, and curled my hand tight around my cock, taking long, slow strokes, as gently as I could.
"Harder."
"Fucking hell, Harry." What was he trying to do, kill me? I could only take a couple of hard tugs before I had to stop, feeling rather shamed.
When I glanced at Harry he was biting his lip, his forehead beaded with sweat. He’d made no attempt to touch himself, however, and I was slightly offended. A quick glance at Blaise showed that he’d abandoned all pretence, and was rubbing himself hard through his pyjamas. Even Pansy and Daphne could have been up to anything under their voluminous dressing gowns, but I didn’t particularly care to take a closer look. There are some things that will wilt an erection even under such circumstances as these, and I was in no mood to be put off my stroke.
"Aren’t you turned on?" I asked Harry, and wanted to kick myself. I was a little drunk, sure, but not that drunk. Merlin.
Harry wet his lips. "Completely," he murmured. "Now count to ten and start again."
I did so. And again. And again. And again. Until it got to the point – fucking, fucking hell – where I could barely take one stroke before I had to stop, and I was aching, dying, absolutely screaming for release.
"I hate you," I muttered, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of my forehead, my whole body quivering.
"Do you?" Harry asked mildly, and I could have kicked myself for such an amateur error.
"No," I had to reply, the Veritaserum pushing my answer screaming to my lips. "I don’t."
Harry leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide, his tongue sliding out to coat his lips with the same wetness that slicked my throbbing penis.
Honestly, kill me now.
"I’d like to watch you come now," he murmured, and his eyes dropped to my cock.
Hell, I wasn’t going to complain. I fisted my cock hard and fast, arousal spreading and building until my thighs were shaking. I could barely keep myself upright. My face was burning. I could hear – almost like another person – myself pant and groan. A few hard strokes and I tipped over the edge into orgasm. I gripped my cock close to my body. My come splashed onto my stomach, across my chest, throbbing spurt after throbbing spurt. It was divine – and it was horrendous. On one hand, Harry fucking Potter had directed me to orgasm, and left me on my knees before him, coated in his saliva, splashed with my jizz. Charming, I know. And on the other hand, well… Harry fucking Potter had just talked me into coming, and … well, so on. Willingly.
In other words, the situation could go either way. Either I was doomed to complete humiliation, or – and it was a big or – I was going to get some very hot sex in the near future. It seemed unlikely that Harry would just let it go. I know that I wouldn’t have, if I were in his situation. And that was entirely discounting how Blaise and the girls wanted to play it. If Harry decided that silence was the way to go, then I was in for some fairly hefty blackmailing, no doubt about it.
Although, when I looked at Blaise, I made sure he noticed that I had noticed the spreading wet patch at his crotch. Two can play a game of blackmail, after all.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Harry Potter only went and leaned forward, tugged my hand towards him, and – get this – licked it. Harry fucking Potter, licking my come off my hand. Funny how a soft, warm tongue – oh Merlin – is a bolt of pure arousal, zinging directly to the groin. I was hard in an instant. Embarrassing, perhaps, but seriously showing off my excellent staying power and stamina.
Then he dropped my hand, leaned further forward and, for one delirious, heart-stopping moment I thought he was actually going to touch my cock. But the bastard simply bent down – his face far too close to my genitals for my own sanity – and tugged up my pyjama bottoms with a quirky grin.
And then he whispered something in my ear and sauntered out of the common room, making short work of the locking spell on the door with a quickly muttered spell.
I turned to Blaise and the girls, trying to keep my face impassive. They all looked a little stunned.
After a short silence Pansy laughed. "Well, that was something different, darling. It’s lovely to see a new side of an old friend, I always think."
That certainly broke the tension in the atmosphere.
Blaise grinned. "Watching you two girls watching Draco was certainly a turn-on," he said pointedly.
I snorted. "You know you want me, lover boy. You couldn’t take your eyes off me." I smiled sweetly at him. "I never knew you had it in you."
Blaise rolled his eyes and I knew I had him by the balls. He wouldn’t tell anyone, for fear of what I’d reveal in return. A straight boy turned on by another boy wanking? Dear me, what would his mother think.
The girls, on the other hand, were a different story. What did they have to lose by spreading tales?
"It was certainly an… entertaining show," Daphne said with a glint in her eye. "I think we should play truth or dare more often."
Her suggestion hung in the air, and the unspoken request behind it.
"I wonder what dares Harry would carry out?" Pansy said thoughtfully, and Daphne snickered, setting Pansy off too.
"Well, he won’t carry out anything if you two don’t keep this a secret," I said slowly.
"Is that a promise?" Pansy said and looked surprised at her own daring.
I nodded. So that was the game they were playing. They wanted to… sweet Merlin, watch a repeat performance. What a pair of tarts. Not that I minded, come to think of it. Not much. Not if it meant… I flushed at my own thoughts.
"Shall we to bed?" Daphne asked, stretching and yawning.
Pansy nodded, and the two quickly broke the locking spell and sauntered out of the room, leaving Blaise and myself staring at each other.
I smiled seductively at Blaise and, as I predicted, this made him nervous enough to leave me in the common room and go up to bed alone. I slung on my robe and stood up, my heart beating wildly.
After all, I now had the password to the Gryffindor dormitories and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
It was time for a repeat performance. By special request of Harry fucking Potter himself, no less. It would have been rude to turn down his invitation to come.
Sometimes, the best way to treat your enemies is with politeness, don’t you agree?