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A/N: Written for Simmysim, the curator of the Bottom!Draco Emporium, who was having a bad day. *blows a kiss* This is for you, darling. Three Steps to a Threesome by: dangermouse ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ STEP ONE: PREPARATION The sun broke over the horizon, declaring the end of the cold night and intent on making a perfect Saturday afternoon. Light kissed the top of the trees, rousing sleepy songbirds from their slumber, their wings flapping and their voices raised in joyous abandon. All around, the world woke up to welcome the gorgeous day, the Hogwarts Castle shimmering in dawn's early glow. Draco was aware of none of this, of course, as he stared at himself in the mirror, deep in the murky, shadowed depths of the Slytherin dungeon. Behind him, he could hear Gregory snoring, as well as the sleeping sounds emanating from his roommates, hidden behind the heavy curtains of their beds. Draco sat before his vanity, eyes locked on his own visage, a hand going up to push a stray piece of longish, platinum hair behind his ear. He smirked. Sultry, sexy, dangerous - those were the words that came to mind as Draco met his own gaze, his hair tousled just so, eyes narrowed and calculating with a mission of passion. It screamed his virility and could make anyone with an inkling of libido fall to their knees and beg him the take them. Draco frowned, shattering the image. No, that wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. It wasn't the right expression for what he wanted. He tried opening his eyes a little wider, forcing them to take on a slightly bewildered look, his mouth opening slightly, lips forming a small, subtle pout. His fingers tousled his hair a bit more, this time allowing random strands to fall about his face. He pulled his body close together, wrapping his arms loosely around his chest. The Slytherin looking back at him was innocence personified, lost and confused, wide-eyed and wondering. He looked like a clueless virgin, begging to be taken and claimed. Draco smirked again. Perfect. * * * * * * The beauty of the morning was not lost on everyone. Harry Potter stretched lazily, eyes blinking owlishly as he gazed out the window. The colors of the world blurred together without his glasses and he smiled as a fuzzy, bluebird-shaped animal landed on the windowsill and chirped at him. "Good morning." Harry's smile grew as Ron walked up behind him, wrapping a gentle arm around the other boy's waist, his chin resting on Harry's pajama clad shoulder. "Beautiful morning," Harry agreed, leaning back against his best friend and lover. "Stunning, really." Ron made a murmured sound of agreement as he turned Harry around slowly, capturing his lips with his own. The kiss was long and sweet, an unhurried meeting of mouths and tongues, Harry trailing his hands along Ron's back. At last they broke away, Harry licking his lips slightly as Ron leaned against him, burying his nose in his unruly hair. "Very good morning," Harry said vaguely, running a hand through Ron's red hair. "Mmm," Ron agreed. "Too bad the day is going to be ruined this afternoon." Harry sighed as Ron straightened and turned away, his face in what he guessed was a scowl. Harry wandered back towards his bed, taking his glasses of the night table and slipping them on his nose. "Let's not let that spoil our day," he pleaded. Ron shook his head. "How can I not? An entire afternoon spent with Malfoy." He spoke the name with undisguised revulsion. "I hate Snape for making us get tutoring in Potions from him. I mean, Hermione would have been better." "It's because we never listened to Hermione that we ended up in this mess in the first place," Harry reminded him. "Yeah, well..." Ron hedged and Harry shook his head. "Come on. Let's go to breakfast," Harry suggested. At the word "breakfast," the curtains around the other three beds in the room rustled. Seamus was the first to poke his sleep-rumpled head out. "Did I hear someone mention breakfast?" he asked, voice thick with sleep. Harry and Ron laughed. * * * * * * STEP TWO: CONTACT If Draco had not been a Malfoy, he would have classified the emotion he was feeling at that moment as "nervous." However, he was a Malfoy, through and through. Therefore, as he hovered in the corridor a slight ways away from the Great Hall, he attributed the butterflies in his stomach to simple hunger. Several books were loosely clasped in his arms, their exact titles unknown to him as he'd just randomly grabbed them on his way out the door. He shifted restlessly. "How long does it take to eat?" he grumbled under his breath, which caught in his throat as he heard two familiar, laughing voices. Taking a deep breath, he strode purposely from around the corner, straight into Harry and Ron. "Hey!" the redhead shouted at the collision, Draco's books scattering along the corridor floor. With perfect timing, Draco sank to his knees before the two boys, reaching down to gather his fallen books in his arms. As sheepishly as he could manage, Draco looked up at them from underneath the fringe of his bangs, eyes wide as he practiced, and said, "Sorry." "What?" Harry asked, stunned. "What?" Ron echoed. "Sorry," Draco repeated, lowering his gaze back to the floor. "As in I apologize. I should have looked where I was going." He reached past Harry's leg to retrieve a heavy tome, letting his arm brush against the other boy. "Sorry," he said again, just for effect. "Uh..." Harry replied intelligently, "that's okay." Draco nodded and, all his books again clutched in the crook of his left arm, stood up slowly, trailing his hand up Ron's leg for supposed leverage. He faced the two boys before inclining his head once and walking between them, letting his body brush along theirs as he went on his way, leaving two very shocked Gryffindors in his wake. Turning another corner and certain he was alone, Draco collapsed against the corridor wall, taking deep breaths to steady himself. That had been harder than he planned, playing the part he had to in order to get what he wanted. "So far, so good," he muttered to himself and couldn't help a small smile. * * * * * * Harry and Ron walked in near silence back to their dormitory. A hurried mumble of the password and they stumbled past the Fat Lady into the thankfully empty common room. Ron toppled onto the nearest couch. "What the hell was that?" he asked at last as Harry started pacing the room. "I don't know," Harry relied uneasily. "I think that, well, maybe..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, that's not possible." "What?" Ron pressed, sitting forward. Harry sighed and looked back at him. "I think Malfoy might be... flirting with us." Ron's jaw fell open in shock. "Flirt... flirting with us?!" he cried. "That's... that's..." "Disgusting?" Harry offered. "Scary? Weird? Wrong?" "Well, yeah," Ron agreed, "But..." He trailed off, a leering sort of expression on his face, and Harry found himself nodding slowly in agreement to the redhead's unspoken thought. "Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah." * * * * * * STEP THREE: SEDUCTION Draco paced, not nervously, in the empty potions' classroom. He paused before the equipment shelf, gazing at his reflection in one of the extra-large, shining, silver cauldrons. He immediately felt grateful that Professor Snape would not be in the classroom today, since he would no doubt disapprove of Draco's outfit. The tight black tee shirt and even tighter, faded jeans, while stunning on his body and good for his plan, were simply not appropriate attire for the art of potion making. Thankfully, Professor Snape had better things to do than hover around his classroom on a Saturday. Draco hoped. Satisfied that he had attained the perfect look, Draco busied himself by pulling out the potion components they would need for the day's tutoring session. Just because he'd been making plans to get Harry and Ron to jump him for weeks didn't mean he could slack off on his duties. Professor Snape was relying on him, after all. While he normally couldn't give a rat's ass about the Gryffindors' grades, the need for more points for his house and the pressure being put on him by everyone, including the Headmaster, made it necessary to at least make some form of attempt to help those less gifted in the craft. It also had something to do with pride, he readily admitted to himself. Potions was his favorite class and he hoped, albeit rather pessimistically, that by tutoring those who hated it the most, he might alter their perceptions a little. Four weeks into the tutoring sessions had yet to make any impact, however. Still, he kept trying. Slytherins were often stubborn that way. It was through the course of these repeated attempts and failures to garner their interest that Draco started to get discouraged and let his mind wander to other things - like Harry's smile, for instance. Or Ron's twisted humor. They way they looked at one another, casually touched one another - Draco knew all too soon he was lost. Thus came about the Plan. If he couldn't make them interested in potions, his second greatest pride and joy, he'd get them interested in his first - himself. So far, things seemed to be going according to plan. His mental wanderings didn't distract him from his task of setting up the potion components. They were all lined up neatly in piles and jars, ready to be added to the heavy, cold pewter cauldron sitting on its unlit burner in the proper order to hopefully bring about the perfect base for poison class potions. Even if the potion was a failure, Draco was certain that at least something of interest would be brought about by this tutoring session. Draco glanced down at his watch, knowing he didn't have much time left before the objects of his lust would arrive. Turning around, glancing over his shoulder to make certain he wasn't disturbing any of his carefully laid potion supplies, Draco hopped up onto the table, facing the entrance in the back of the classroom. He pondered for a moment. First impressions were everything. He'd known that for as long as he could remember. It was why meals at home were taken in formal dress, just in case someone of some importance were to stop by. It was why he never left his dorm room unless he was certain he looked his best, ever wary that he might run into a person with strong connections in the Ministry wandering through the Hogwarts halls. He needed to make sure that this first impression burned forever in Harry and Ron's mind - or, at least, burned long enough to accomplish his goals. He let his legs hang apart and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He frowned. No, that was too predatory. He sat back and raised one leg, resting his right foot on the table and wrapping an arm around it. He shook his head. That was too impish. He folded his right leg underneath his left, letting that leg hang loosely off the table. He glanced down, nodding to himself with pleasure at how it stretched the already tight jeans just so over what he most wished to accentuate. Leaning back on his arms slightly and shaking his head to give his hair that perfect tousled look, Draco knew he was ready. He didn't have to wait long. Ron and Harry came bustling into the potions' classroom, Draco having heard their approach echoing through the corridors long before their arrival. Neither one was dressed in appropriate clothes for potion making, jeans and badly knit sweaters instead of the proper robes, but Draco certainly couldn't call them on that this time, for obvious reasons. Both boys stopped short, staring at Draco as he gave them a half-lidded gaze, looking each one up and down with guarded approval. Counting silently to three, Draco slid off the table, working his mouth into a tiny frown. "You're late," he said, with much less snap in his voice than usual. Seemingly shaken from his spell by his movement and words, Ron and Harry continued into the room, going to stand next to Draco and the carefully prepared potion components. "Well, we do have better things to do then hang around down here," Ron groused, dropping his bag to the ground, Harry following suit. "I'll bet," Draco told them, his voice just this side of sultry. Harry looked startled, then a little perplexed. Not wanting to give them too much time to think about what he was up to, Draco quickly launched into his lesson for the day. "Today we'll be working on a base for potions in the poison class. I've already laid out the ingredients for you, so just getting them in the right order shouldn't be too difficult, I think." Moving to stand between the two boys, Draco reached out a hand and causally pointed his wand at the base of the cauldron. With a muttered word, a bright green flame exploded to life, licking the sides of the cauldron at just the right heat and strength. The water in the pewter pot began to boil almost immediately. Containing the smug look that wanted to break out on his face, he instead inclined his head slightly at the two boys and let an almost sweet smile turn up his lips. "Now tell me," he said easily, "what do we need to do first?" "One second, " Harry said, sinking down to the ground to get his notes out of his bag. Draco looked down at the taller boy, now kneeling at his feet, and felt a rush of excitement going through him. He glanced over at Ron, who was watching them both with interest, and fixed him with a smooth smile. Ron looked torn between a sense of jealously washing up through him at the sight of his boyfriend kneeling before someone else, but also appeared to be slightly turned on by it. His breathing hitched and he gave Draco an indescribable look. Draco just winked. Just at that moment, Harry stood up again, messy notes in hand, for which Draco was grateful. Setting Ron off into jealous boyfriend mode would do nothing to help Draco's cause. He wasn't interested in stealing Harry away from Ron - he just wanted to share him. Actually, he wanted them both to share him. But that would hopefully come later. "Okay," Harry began, squinting down at his nearly unreadable handwriting, "we need to add Crempish weed to the potion in a seven-tenths proportional amount to the volume of the water in the cauldron." Harry sighed and scratched his head. "What does that mean?" Draco almost rolled his eyes, but instead forced a smile. "It means," he said patiently, "that the water is a reactive component in the potion and must therefore be taken into account when adding the other ingredients." Putting a hand on Ron's back, he pushed the redhead forward, bending him over the table slightly so he could see into the cauldron. "See those marks etched into the side?" he asked, leaning over to speak in Ron's ear, almost letting his lips touch his earlobe. "Um, yeah," Ron said, shooting little glances at Draco. "I see two of them." "That means the amount of water in the cauldron is down twenty percent of the total volume of the cauldron," Draco explained, removing his hand and standing back up. "As this is a two gallon cauldron..." "Then there are 12.8 pints of water still in there," Harry finished. Draco gave a true smile and rubbed Harry's shoulder. "Exactly," he said. Harry straightened up with a little pride. "So, the rest of the ingredients have to be added in appropriate amounts," Draco continued. "And don't worry about the water boiling off - that was taken into account when the potion instructions were written." "Right," Ron said and Draco allowed the two other boys to continue adding ingredients, nodding his head with pleasure as the potion turned the appropriate color and thickness. Draco used his wand to put out the fire once all the ingredients were added and looked to Harry for the next part. "So, now we stir," Harry said, lifting up a heavy wooden spoon with a thick handle. He dipped it in the concoction, his hand loosely gripping the handle. Draco shook his head, reaching out a hand to cover Harry's on the handle. "You have to hold it firmer than that," he told him, tightening his grip and guiding the stirring. "Stir it a bit harder, a little faster..." Harry breathed out a little heavily, glancing over at the Slytherin. Draco could feel Ron move up behind him, his front just touching Draco's back as Draco continued to caress Harry's hand, dictating his movements with practiced ease. The potion began turning from a somewhat sickly yellow to vibrant green, a sweet, almost lavender-like scent filling the air. "Good," Draco purred, "just like that. Keep up with the strokes, nice and even." At last, the potion stopped bubbling and Draco pulled Harry's hand up, taking the spoon out of the potion in one, smooth movement. Letting go of Harry's hand, Draco let himself lean back against Ron, Harry putting the wooden spoon down on the table. "And that's how you make a base potion in the poison class," Draco concluded. Harry was staring at him, his normally bright green eyes a little darker, almost smoky. Draco could feel Ron's body heat through his shirt, the redhead reaching a hand around his waist, slipping it up through the thin fabric to rest lightly on his stomach. Without warning, Harry moved forward, capturing Draco's lips with his own in an almost brutal kiss. Draco let his eyes slip closed as Harry's tongue plundered his mouth, Draco doing his best to reciprocate. He felt Ron pushing him forward, felt another set of lips brush along the top of his ear as he found himself sandwiched between the two boys, Harry's arms wrapping around both himself and the redhead behind him. At last, Harry pulled back, both boys taking in a deep breath. Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's, staring down deep into his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice husky, "if you wanted to have sex with us, all you had to do was ask." "Where's the challenge in that?" Draco whispered roughly, moaning softly as Ron let his hands trail further down his body. "Silly Slytherin," Ron murmured, raising his hands again to brush under Draco's shirt. Harry leaned down and started laying soft, feather-light kisses along Draco's neck. As good as this was all feeling, Draco forced himself to pull away slightly from the wonderful sensations flooding his body. "Not here," he forced out, glancing at the door. "Anybody could walk in." "We have a place," Ron said and Draco let himself get tugged out of the room by the two very excited boys. "I'm never going to look at Potions the same way again," Harry muttered softly as they closed the door to the classroom behind them. Draco couldn't help but laugh. * * * * * * EPILOGUE Draco hummed a tuneless song to himself, not even caring how sore he was or how strangely he was probably walking. He leaned on the door to the potions' classroom, running a hand through his messy hair, his whole body buzzing with remnant pleasure. The door falling open, he wandered into the classroom, then stopped short at the sight awaiting him there. Professor Snape stood behind the forgotten potion base, arms crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. Draco put on his most innocent expression and walked forward, looking down at the congealed mess that had been a perfect base potion, then glanced up, giving a sheepish glance to his teacher. "Oops," he said with a tiny smile. Professor Snape shook his head. "Any particular reason you forgot to clean this up after your lesson today?" he asked with a frown. Draco gave him a small shrug. "Well, you know... the best laid plans..." He suddenly broke out into a fit of giggles, covering his mouth with his hand. "Best laid," he tittered again through his amusement. Professor Snape sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand along his face. "Never mind," he muttered. "I shouldn't have asked. I honestly do not want to know." He waved a hand over the mess. "Just clean this up." "Yes, sir," Draco said still snickering. Professor Snape started to brush past him, then squinted, looking down at Draco's neck. With a deep, theatrical sigh, he reached down and flipped up Draco's collar, hiding a dark red hickey there. "I do not want to know," Professor Snape said emphatically and stalked out of the room. Draco smirked to himself, then pulled out his wand and began to mutter cleaning spells. "Best laid plans," he repeated and laughed again. THE END! |