Title: Kickin' It Old School
Author: eeyore9990
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco, Snape
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Touch
Other Warnings: Sort of dub-con, inappropriate treatment of a minor by an authority figure (non-sexual), hand jobs
Word Count: ~1350
Summary/Description: Harry and Draco's constant fighting lands them in detention… even though they're on summer hols.
Author's Notes: I was missing some old-school Drarry from my life, so I decided to write it. :D By old-school, I mean this is horribly AU, clichés are scattered throughout, and the only thing missing from Caps!Lock!Harry is the capslock. Whee, old-school! (Though obviously, I need to return to school myself and relearn how to do this "porn-writing" thing…)

---

"That. Is. It. That's it! Detention, the both of you."

Harry instinctively winced, a knee-jerk reaction to hearing Snape's voice go low and deadly. But then, as soon as his brain began to function again, he turned to Snape with a scowl, arms crossed. "It's summer! You can't give us detention. You're not our professor right now!"

Snape advanced on Harry, his eyes narrowing to slits above his beaky nose, and leaned down until said nose was nearly filling Harry's vision before he whispered, "Try and stop me."

"Oh, this should be good."

Hearing Malfoy's smug voice nearly sent Harry over the edge and, mindless of Snape's towering presence, he turned to strangle the spoiled prat. Before he could get his hands around Malfoy's neck, though, he felt the overwhelming pressure of Side-Along Apparition and found himself standing in the dust-filled attic of Grimmauld Place.

Heaving from the sickening sensation of Apparition and the rage of being denied his vengeance on Malfoy, Harry was about to take his anger and frustration out on Snape when he found himself hoisted several feet in the air and hung, suspended, from a large coat hook screwed into the wall.

Harry twisted and turned, kicking out at Snape as he shouted, "You can't do this to me! Get me down from here! Snape! You can't do this!"

"Listen to me, you impudent little whelp. You've made every person in this god-forsaken house utterly miserable with your silly tantrums and childish spats. You will remain here until you can remember that you are seventeen, not seven, and conduct yourself accordingly. Until you can do so, I will take this to ensure that you stay where you've been put."

Harry's eyes popped open wide, his voice cut off not from magic, but from sheer outrage when Snape reached into his pocket and pulled free his wand.

"That's my wand. Give it back! Dammit, Snape, you can't do this!"

Snape's lips curved upward cruelly before he said, "Watch me."

Harry could do only that, as his struggles to free himself proved to be in vain. And to prove that his luck always ran sour, not five seconds after Snape disappeared through the tiny door, Malfoy stepped into the room, his nose scrunched in disgust as he looked around himself.

"Don't you own a house-elf?"

"Shut up."

"It was a legitimate question. This place is filthy."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?"

Malfoy's eyebrows inched upward and the beginnings of a sarcastic smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "About filth? Me?"

"Yes, you. You and your father roll around in it like pigs in muck."

"You know, Potter… considering how often you remind Professor Snape that you aren't your father, you're awful quick to judge me by mine." At Harry's glare, Malfoy shrugged and plopped down onto a sheet-covered sofa. "Just saying," he said before sneezing rather delicately.

Harry just rolled his eyes and returned to the task of attempting to remove himself from the hook.

Five minutes later, Malfoy's grating voice broke the semi-silence; Harry's grunts certainly didn't count as real noise.

"I'm bored."

"Bully…for…you. Fuck!" Harry swore as his latest attempt to remove himself left him with nothing but sore shoulders and a crick in his neck.

"That would be a brilliant suggestion, but alas. There's nothing here to fuck." Though, even as he said this, Malfoy's eyes narrowed on Harry.

"Don't even think about it."

Malfoy smiled, and to Harry's knowledge, it was the first true smile he'd ever seen on that face.

"Think about what?"

Harry dangled there, at a loss for words that wouldn't be either incriminating or suggestive. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest, averted his gaze, and said, "You know what."

The sound of careful footsteps drew Harry's worried gaze to Malfoy, who was slowly crossing the room toward him.

"Do not touch me."

Malfoy shook his head and tsk-ed. "Really now. One would think you'd be aware of the dangers of issuing me a dare. You really are too stupid to live."

Harry yelled wordlessly, kicking out at Malfoy's hand when it came close, but his flailing foot missed Malfoy completely. Instead, his actions served only to create an opening into which Malfoy inserted his body, his deceptively-strong hands capturing and holding Harry's thighs tight to the wall.

"Exactly how did you want me to not touch you, Potter?" Malfoy smirked, his fingers pinching cruelly at the skin of Harry's inner thighs. "Like this?"

Harry squirmed, but Malfoy's hold was too powerful, and lashing out with his hands merely highlighted how helpless his current position left him.

Malfoy ducked Harry's blows, and from Harry's vantage point, the bobbing and weaving of Malfoy's head near his groin looked… far too erotic.

And fuck if he wasn't a randy teenager with no ready outlet for his hormones. Harry quickly bit the inside of his cheek and smacked the back of his head against the wall in an attempt to forestall the erection that had shown up sometime in his thirteenth year and rarely went away.

He'd named it Henry. It had seemed only right to do so, considering the damned thing greeted him every morning and lulled him to sleep every night, popping its head up several times a day to make sure he was still alive. The stupid thing had been more constant than Ron's friendship through the years.

Harry thought for sure he'd managed to stop his prick from sitting up and taking notice of the fact that there were two hands and a head within inches of it, but fuck if Malfoy didn't ruin that accomplishment as well.

"Orrr," Malfoy drawled, evidently ignorant of Harry's inner-monologue, "did you want me to touch you like this?"

The fingers that had been twisting his skin so cruelly suddenly turned soothing, rubbing light circles into Harry's way-too-fucking-sensitive flesh.

"Ah, I see. Like this, then," Malfoy said, unholy glee evident in his tone when Harry's prick tented the front of his trousers.

Harry slumped—not that he could do much else, really, what with the fact that he was a mere wall decoration at that point—muttering vague threats in the general direction of the part in Malfoy's hair as Malfoy's fingers drew designs all the way up his inseam and over his crotch.

And then he just shut up and let Henry do the talking.

"Should I not touch you over your pants?" Malfoy's fingers teased the rigid length of Harry's prick through the material of his trousers for just a moment before making quick work of the button and zip. "Or should I not touch you under them?"

Harry whimpered when Henry went into epileptic seizures. Surely that much twitching must be an indication of something horrible.

"Should I not touch you like this?" Malfoy drew the length of a manicured nail down Harry's shaft, chuckling gleefully when Harry's hissed, his hips twisting against the wall. "Or like this?" And Malfoy wrapped his hand tightly around Harry's prick, giving it one solid pump.

Harry flailed like one of those toys whose arms and legs spring up when the cord between the legs is pulled… And now he thought of it, those toys really were blatantly wrong for the children they were marketed to.

Malfoy must have sensed Harry's momentary distraction, because he pumped his hand again. "Tell me, Potter. Tell me how you don't want me to touch you?"

Harry thought briefly of telling Malfoy off and screaming the house down until someone came to rescue him, but then thought, what the hell? and mentally shrugged as he decided to let Henry have his fun. "You should definitely, in no uncertain terms, not touch me exactly like that."

---

In the weeks before school started, when Ron would rant about how Harry's frequent disappearances would coincide too well with Malfoy's, Harry would just shrug and mutter something about Henry.

And when Snape would scowl darkly at the ceiling every time there was a suspicious thump, Hermione would smile sweetly and remind him that there really was a reason teachers didn't give detention during the summer hols.