springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-25 08:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, harry/neville, harry/neville/draco, slash, threesome |
Happy Springsmut, celandineb!
Author: kaellite
Recipient: celandineb
Title: A Safe Place?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Neville, Neville/Draco/Harry
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Draco see's something he wasn't meant to see (or was he?), and can't let it go.
Warnings: EWE, Rimming, voyerism, exhibitionism, threesome
Word Count: ~2900
Author's Notes: I tried to include a ton of your kinks/requests, but the boys would only cooperate with hopeful ending, voyerism, exhibitionsim, and rimming. Sorry, but I did manage to include 3 of your requested characters.
Damn Potter! It was galling that he still got preferential treatment four years after the war ended. What had he done since? Nothing. Not on his own anyway. It was a certainty that he wouldn't have been top of his Auror class without the Mudblood's help; even more certain that the Weasel wouldn't have even passed. But the Weasel didn't curry special favours like Scarface did.
If Draco had a friend drop by, actually entering the Auror's sanctum on a routine basis in the process, it would have been frowned upon to say the least. But because it was Potter, Longbottom got to come and go like he belonged there.
Which was why Draco found himself prowling the corridors after they'd left the break room; it had nothing to do with a desperate need for the cloakroom. Nor did his inability to focus on his own lunch earlier have anything to do with Longbottom or the way his lips pursed around the straw in his drink. Did Longbottom know what a spectacle he was making of himself, joining Potter for lunch almost every day, waiting outside the Ministry doors in the evening as well.
Then again, Longbottom had always been a follower, even at school where he trailed the Weaslette around. Stopping in his tracks, his need for the cloak room no longer nearly so urgent, Draco gathered himself together once more and turned to go back to work until he heard a thump.
Wonderful! Someone probably had dropped more file boxes in which case he was definitely going. Malfoys may be the new pariahs of the Wizarding World but they were still above such menial tasks as picking paper up off the floor. If caught not providing aid, he could always answer that it was not wanted of or from him; true enough in most cases. He was four steps away when he heard it again.
That was more than something dropping. Damning himself for his weakness and giving to his sudden curiosity, he needed some distraction from the enforced monotony of his days, he opened the cloak room door slightly. As his eyes adjusted, his prick filled once more.
That mouth was even more gorgeous stretched wide Potter's prick, than it had been obscenely finishing a drink in the lunch room. And it seemed that Herbology wasn't the only thing Longbottom was good at as his head bobbed until Potter moaned. Merlin, leave it to Scarface to forget silencing charms, even if he did look almost attractive like that, at the very least not-quite repulsive. His eyes dropped down once more to Longbottom whose throat was moving as he obviously swallowed before nestling his face against Potter's torso; brown hair dishevelled from Potter's fingers in it. Draco's own digits were clenched in his trousers, fighting the need to move forward and feel for himself how soft it must be. Now that was a sure way to get hexed.
Backing silently away, he hastily cleaned himself up and went back to his station, revising his opinions as he did so. Maybe the Squib hadn't been following Ginny Weasley after all. The Weaslette had shadowed Potter, and if someone were to tag along after her, he'd end up in Potter's vicinity. Maybe Longbottom wasn't as dense as Draco had assumed back then. Which begged the question: how long had this been going on?
Draco considered, briefly, letting it go. It was all so many years ago but, from the day they met, Potter had always been a thorn in his side. Draco remembered that first year all too clearly, especially his decision, when Scarface declined to take his hand in friendship, that he would ignore the peasant, when he wasn't showing the other boy up, of course. But Potter had to go and meddle where he wasn't wanted; interfering with his fun with Neville, and proving himself a hero to the other Gryffindor in the process. That just hadn't been on.
Now, to add insult to injury, Potter had influence where Draco had none. But knowledge was power, wasn't it? And power, leverage over the Saviour of the Wizarding World would be something to behold.
It wasn't difficult over the next few weeks to obtain new information as his quarries were laughably inept in their attempts at discretion, being so lax as to allow Draco access to their residences; well, Longbottom's at any rate. Draco would have thought the Longbottom matriarch would have insisted on her Grandson having better wards than that, but no, Draco was able to access the Mew's house and subsequently witness something he'd never imagined.
He had to admit Potter looked good like that, down on all fours. And who knew that Longbottom had it in him? Though, to be accurate, it was Scarface who had Longbottom in him, and the dark-haired man certainly looked as if he was enjoying it.
Draco was grinning all the way back to his flat. Well, smirking really, as Malfoy's would never do anything as common or obvious as to grin.
Potter was a shirt lifter!
Feeling quite smug, whilst conveniently forgetting the cleaning charm he'd had to perform on his own garments, Draco was feeling quite superior as he eyed the crowd at the Leaky Cauldron. Soon, his evening was made even better when Ginny Weasley proved she didn't have the wherewithal to stand five minutes in his presence, until he realized the real reason for her hasty exit.
"Sorry, I'm late."
Where had Longbottom come from?
"I would have been here sooner but I had to replant the Peonies you trampled."
The years at his father's knee had not been entirely in vain; his expression did not falter, not even for an instant.
"You knew then. Interesting game you and Potter have going."
"It's not a game, Harry just wasn't sure you'd be interested."
"For once, Scarface is right."
"I think he's wrong. I think you've been interested in both of us for quite some time. What's more, I'm fairly certain we have a lot more in common than you've let on."
Draco wasn't sure why he was listening. His own behaviour was beginning to perplex him. Certainly he should have gone to Rita Skeeter right away that afternoon, but he hadn't. Now he was letting Longbottom ramble on much like Lockhart had and was doing in his dotage. Still, it was more amusing than his empty flat.
"Gran always wanted me to be my father all over again, and no one wanted Harry. And you..."
"Don't lump me in with you and Potter. My life was, is, fine."
"Is it? I don't doubt your parents care about you in some fashion, but did you ever get a hug or praise for just being you, and not because you lived up to some expectation of theirs?"
"Hugs? Really Longbottom, you've been socializing with Mudbloods and Muggles too long."
"And you with Death Eaters. How much of your life would be different if you'd been able to make your own choices? How much of where you are now has to do with cleaning up your family’s messes?"
Draco studiously went back to his Firewhisky, not that it deterred Longbottom.
"I wondered about you a lot at school. Why did you resent Harry so much? For not being your friend, or for my following him, my being his friend? Have you ever had a real friend? Do you even know how? Is that why you took my Remembrall? I've wondered if it wasn't to be mean, but simply to get my attention. And why the comment about St. Mungo's? You had to know I was there, that I could hear you. You certainly had to know about my parents, considering it was your Aunt that...."
Draco finally deigned to look at Longbottom at that.
"...Was that to be mean, too? Or was it to give me a warning? Just like you distracted Goyle in Umbridge's office."
"You give me too much credit, and yourself too much importance."
"Do I? It's a funny thing being the afterthought, part of the group but not in the midst of it. You get to see things; like a boy who has no friends, just socially acceptable toadies. You start to wonder if he's a lonely as you are. And then things change. They both get pushed into things by what happens around them, and one finally finds acceptance, and learns to accept himself. The other still looks miserable, when you look in his eyes anyway. The thing is, I'd really like to see a smile in those eyes."
"And what does your boyfriend say about that?" What that Draco was referring to, he didn’t quite know.
"Harry? Harry's not exactly an unbiased observer. He cares about me, always has. He'd do anything for me, but he's obsessed with you. You have to know that."
"And your interest is what then? To please your boyfriend?"
"I'm not sure. I just want…" Neville reached for Draco's glass and finished the drink himself. "I just want us all to be whole again, maybe even for the first time, and I think maybe the three of us could do that for each other. So I was wondering if you'd like to join us?"
"I see. You'd like me to join you and Potter in your little perversions."
"Love isn't perverse, Draco, it can be a safe place if you do it right. If you let it. With each other, in our home, we get to be ourselves. Better we get to find out who that is, with each other. And we get to have that be okay. I thought maybe you'd want that too, be ready for that. Aren't you?"
Longbottom had to have done some sort of Imperius on him. Why else would Draco have come here, it couldn't have anything to do with his pathetic little speech. An Imperius: that had to be the reason for his taking a shower when he was always impeccably clean, not the suggestion of "Won't the hot water feel nice on your skin?" And, now he found himself lying on a padded table clad only in a pair of drawstring trousers and Neville's surprisingly strong hands kneading his shoulder as Potter's fingers stroked the soles of his feet. Longbottom had to have slipped him some sort of sleep draught too, because he was having a hard time...
Slowly opening his eyes, Draco came wide awake at the vision that greeted him. Longbottom was splayed out on cushions in front of the fire, while Potter’s hand was dipping slowly into the cleft between his arse cheeks. It had to be the potions they slipped him, because Draco knew he wouldn’t otherwise be compelled to compare his own fingers to Potter's. But, as he was obviously drugged, it was not his responsibility for the way he was drawn to the two figures as if some magnetic force was pulling him forward. He found himself smoothly in Potter's place, taking some of the substance from the jar on the floor and smoothing it over his hand before he slipped one and then two fingers inside Longbottom’s arse.
Longbottom bucked as Draco's fingers found his gland. Strong arms grabbed him and pulled Draco down for a kiss, wiping the smirk, albeit temporarily, off the Slytherin's face. For more than a few moments, Draco forgot there was anyone else in the room. This is what he should have had for so long, he thought as he deepened the kiss and claimed Longbottom’s mouth for his own.
"Fuck, that's hot! Do you want him to fuck you Nev?
"Gods, yes!"
Draco had come back to himself mostly, more aware of what he was doing, and more in charge. The thought of having Longbottom in his bed was not an unattractive proposition, he was now willing to admit, but letting Potter watch was another thing. That would be most unseemly, almost as much as Potter licking his lips like that; quite nice lips and an even prettier tongue but still.
"Want you to fuck me, Draco. Want you to see how good we can be to each other." And, damn, if Longbottom’s punctuating those words with nips to Draco's palm didn't make him decide that he'd do just as asked. And more. He'd show Potter. Longbottom would be screaming Draco's name and begging by the time he was done.
After smearing more lubricant on his organ, Draco lifted Longbottom’s legs placing them so the heels of his feet rested on his own shoulders, and then slowly entered the other man.
"Don't stop! Why are you stopping?"
Because I'll come like a thirteen year old if I don't, you prat.
With many pauses to get himself under control and telling himself it was solely for Longbottom’s comfort, he was finally buried all the way up that tight channel. Getting his breath and himself under control, Draco slowly withdrew until just the head of his cock was still sheathed and then with agonizing slowness moved forward again, Keeping the languid rhythm Draco was pleased to see he was torturing Longbottom, in the most exquisite way possible, to distraction.
When Longbottom was begging for it, just as he'd planned, Draco pulled completely out. Sliding his own engorged member alongside Longbottom’s own, he began grinding into the other man, until he was brought short by rough and wet flesh laving his own crevice.
Draco bit down on his tongue to keep from groaning as nothing Potter did should feel that good. He cursed himself as he heard Potter chuckle. Damn, he must have let some sound slip.
"Don't worry, Malfoy. I know it's a new sensation for you making someone else feel good, but as you were doing it, I thought you should be rewarded."
"See Draco, I told you." With those words, his attention was once more brought to Longbottom who was stroking his own cock now.
Grabbing the offending wrist, Draco pinned it to the mattress and he once more aligned himself and drove into Neville's accepting body. Completely ignoring Longbottom’s pleas of "I need", he set an increasingly brutal pace.
Draco knew what he needed and he'd get it. That was power, and he had it. He knew he could make Longbottom come from sheer fucking; just give him a little time and encouragement. Like that; the keening sound that Longbottom had just made went straight to Draco's balls; smirking he repeated the formerly random thrust in the same direction, adding a wicked twist of his hip as he did so.
Draco howled at the same time as Neville; Potter’s tongue now pointed and suddenly deep within him. "Damn it Potter, not till I've..." The sentence went unfinished as Potter added a finger that pressed against that spot again, making him gasp as the stubble was suddenly scrapping his increasingly tender flesh. If Potter kept that up, and he really was praying that he did, he wasn’t going to last, but he'd be damned if he came before Longbottom did.
Moving his hands he grasped Longbottom’ss ankles, bending the other man so that he was doubled over. Able now to go deeper, he set a brutal pace, slamming into Neville's now dripping arse mercilessly. That should do it.
"God's yes! Harder! Deeper!"
Was he insane? Who did Longbottom think he was? Hagrid?
"Like this." Hot breath ghosted over his ear, and he was pushed forward by Potter's own cock breaching him. And Potter didn't give him any time to adjust; he just began pounding into Draco driving into him deeper than even Draco ever thought possible.
"Pay attention now."
And Draco stilled as Potter began to consistently hit that spot with the head of his cock, alternating the movement on every third or fourth stroke to include a seemingly lazy grinding circular motion. After a few moments, he looked down at Longbottom's panting, desperate form and knew that this was he'd been wanting to see on Longbottom’s face for so many years; Need, need for what Draco could give him.
Matching Potter's movements, they began to move as one, each stroke of Harry's thick cock in him, equaled by his own in Longbottom. Soon the room was filled with nothing but the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and a musky scent that Draco knew he never wanted to be without again.
Locking eyes with Longbottom, he ordered: "Come for me Neville, Your men need you to come." And with one last lunge his teeth locked into Longbottom's neck as the man underneath him clenched around his spurting cock. He was so focused on the orgasm being ripped out of him, that he didn’t realize that Potter had come too, until he felt him collapse on top of himself.
"Get off me, you great oaf."
Both Potter and Longbottom laughed at that, but Draco could do no more than to make a token effort at being affronted as Longbottom whispered, "Stay?"
The words might have been directed at him but it was Potter that Longbottom was looking at. Potter slowly nodded, and then captured Draco's gaze with his own, an expression in them that Draco didn’t recognize. Before he could figure it out, Longbottom had wrapped himself around him, leaning forward for a kiss. But, it was Potter who claimed it. Draco’s protest was stifled though, as Potter kissed him in turn.
Maybe he would stay, for Longbottom’s sake. It wouldn’t do to let Potter run roughshod on the other man. And Potter was an awfully good kisser.