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the bottom!draco emporium-- Firelight
Title : Firelight
Author: Keshu
Disclaimer: Standard thing: No, I don't own these characters. No, I am not making money from this fiction. No, I'm not trying to take over the world.
Yes, these characters are solely J.K Rowling's genius creations, although some diehards may notice a certain cassieclaireness to Draco. Yes, I am an avid fan of Harry Potter and money, but have no intention of reaping money from them both, Yes, I am actually this sad.
Also, this is my first fic. Don't let that discourage you.
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A shadowed figure crept warily down the corridor. It moved lightly, the only sound made being the silver edge of the shadow’s long black cloak whispering across a suit of armour. The figure paused at an intersection between corridors, listened and then flashed across the gap, only the flap of the cloak as he moved betraying him. The figure stopped at a stout door in the dark stone wall and lifted his wand.
“Lubricus” he whispered, and a thick gel substance oozed slowly from his wand and coated the slightly dry iron hinges and lock. The figure shifted slowly and his grinning mouth visible for a second in the thin shaft on moonlight from the single window in this dark third-floor corridor. Pale hands grasped the door fitting and manipulated it soundlessly. Equally noiselessly, the door was pulled forward, gliding easily on the oiled hinges. The figure stepped through the doorway and into the brightly moonlit room beyond.
He still kept to the shadows, his eyes solely on the sleeping figure on the black squashy couch by a cold, dark fire. The cloaked figure raised his wand and, without averting his eyes from the pyjama-clad form in front of him, pointed it at the fireplace.
“Incendio!” he muttered softly, and the next minute the chilled silver room had begun to warm slightly, and the silver moonlight through the open black drapes fought on the stone floor with the golden firelight, illuminating the single other couch, the vast thick rug between them and the golden, Quidditch-hardened skin, raven hair and peacefully sleeping scarred face of his greatest nemesis and rival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Harry Potter.
Slowly, the boy reached up those pale hands to his silver lined hood and drew it back, setting it neatly on his shoulders. His eyes flashed silver and his pale silver blonde hair, which he hadn’t got round to cutting and which flopped messily almost down to his jaw, fell back from his high cheekbones as he shook his head and stepped forward. As he moved into another beam of moonlight from the window, he flashed into luminescence and looked like an angel, although the thin sardonic smile twisting his lips was anything but angelic.
Draco Malfoy.
He bent over Harry and poked him hard. Harry shifted and moaned softly, emerging from his sleep reluctantly. Malfoy tutted and poked him again. Sleep-dazed emerald eyes opened, blinked and widened in sleepy horror as Harry recognised who had woken him.
“Malfoy! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harry had nearly yelled out loud, but had remembered how late it was and had managed to quell the shout to a furious throaty growl.
“Well, well, Potter, who would have known you’d be here. As a prefect you should know better.”
“I couldn’t sleep in my dorm, Malfoy. Ron’s got the snores again. And you’re a prefect too, don’t lecture me. What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep either, Potter. Decided to come here, practice some spells. Pity I ran into you though, it is mildly annoying and has put my off my search for Mrs. Norris. I’m sure you won’t mind if I practice on you.” Draco twirled his wand between his fingers, watching Harry watching him. Harry yawned and sat up.
“Piss off, Malfoy.” He stretched his shoulders and stood.
“Ah, Potter, such a quick wit there, why you’re doing even better than Weasel and that Granger Mudblood these days.”
“Malfoy, either bugger off or I will. I’m tired and I’m not going to fight when I could be listening to Ron apparently trying to saw through his bedposts with the sheer power of his snore. Also, stop insulting my friends, you utter git, I’m utterly bored of it now. I’m off.” Harry grabbed the thin cloak from the floor, an invisibility cloak, Malfoy saw and moved to put it on. Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry.
“You’re not going anywhere, Potter,” he said softly. Harry sighed and pulled his own wand out of his pyjama bottoms.
“You weren’t expecting that, eh, Malfoy? I always have my wand on me. I’ll duel if I have to and I’ve already beaten you once. Sure you want to? I’ve beaten Voldemort and Hermione as well, although you might not think the latter is a challenge.”
They squared off, facing each other and holding their wands offensively. Malfoy, always a one for formality, bowed stiffly and Harry rolled his eyes and jerked forwards quickly. Harry took the lead by quickly pointing his wand at Malfoy.
“Impedimenta!” he shouted, and Malfoy was forced to roll quickly to the left, banging his shin on one of the sofas.
“Bastard!” He shouted and dodged another Impediment Jinx. “Stupefy!” he cried.
The carefully aimed jet of red light hit Harry square in the chest. His arms dropped to his side and his eyes rolled back, before he dropped to the floor, landing heavily. Malfoy was about to put him into the corner or kick him a few times, or throw him out of the window, but a possibility occurred to him as he studied Harry’s unconscious form. He levelled his wand.
“Imperio.” He whispered softly. He smiled, performed an enervate spell on Harry and brushed some dirt off his robes. Harry’s eyes had flickered open, but they seemed to be focusing oddly. He just lay there, no sign that Harry was actually in the Gryffindor body.
“Stand up.” Said Malfoy softly. Harry got carefully to his feet and stood there on the edge of the deep pile of the rug, his toes buried in the thick fluff. Malfoy grinned. “Touch your nose,” he continued. Harry’s right hand came slowly up and he touched his nose with his forefinger. “Stick out your tongue.” The tip of Harry’s pink tongue emerged catlike from between his lips. As he moved it slightly, the muscle tensed and flexed.
He was getting carried away with this now, this intoxicating full control of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. The possibilities were endless. Visions flashed past his eyes, and one in particular. Malfoy snorted to himself with laughter as he contemplated Argus Filch coming into this room and seeing a naked Harry Potter lying on a sofa, cock and porn in hand. The Boy Who Wanked.
“Take off your clothes” he whispered. Harry’s hands came up to his chest and began to undo the buttons on his pyjama clothing. His green eyes shaded darker as he bent his head down and his tousled black hair fell over his face. As each button came undone a little more of his muscular chest came into view, the golden firelight almost caressing his skin, his dark nipples. He finished unbuttoning and shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, those strong shoulders, shadowed and golden. Malfoy watched him impassively. Harry started to undo the string of his slightly-too-small blue and white striped pyjama trousers, the thin fabric of which was stretched a little over his cock. His hipbones jutted slightly out of the waistband, which was almost indecently low. Malfoy realised he was biting his lip. Harry got the knot undone and slid the fabric down over his hips and arse. He bent over to push the trousers down to the ground, and then stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor. He straightened up again and stood before Malfoy completely naked. Smooth golden skin stretched over strong flying muscles, strong, but not bulky and ugly, stretched over a delicately robust bone structure and all of it softly illuminated by firelight. Sleep-tousled coal-coloured hair, standing on end as if someone had run his or her hands through it. Eyes like emeralds set in with sooty fingers, glinting in the semi-darkness.
Malfoy’s breath hitched.
Without really comprehending what he was doing, without knowing why, not thinking about what he was doing, not understanding why he couldn’t breathe properly, not grasping why he felt like he’d just taken a Warming Potion and it was sitting in his stomach, Draco Malfoy crossed the short distance between him and Harry Potter and pressed his lips hard against those of his rival.
He pressed up against the slim athletic body and kissed the lips with fervent passion, running his hands down the naked, hot skin of the other boy. Harry wasn’t responding and Draco looked up to see why. Of course, the Imperius Curse. Draco decided not to remove it for the time being, he didn’t know what would happen if Harry bolted.
“Potter….kiss…kiss me back.” He croaked, having trouble getting the words out, not imagining he’d ever say them. This time, when he almost gingerly pressed his lips to Harry’s they were responsive, they parted slightly and Draco pressed harder and slipped his tongue into Harry’s mouth. He moaned softly as Harry’s tongue caressed his and felt those arms slide around his waist and draw him closer.
Draco backed away from Harry, his smooth forehead creased with a puzzled frown. Then, as if in resignation, he draped himself on one of the sofas.
“Potter, come to me, come here.” He says. Harry came willingly, and kneeled down next to the sofa near Draco, who pulled him closer and kissed him hard again. He pulled Harry onto the sofa, pulled his shoulders so he was close and kissed him like he was dying. He licked along Harry’s hard jaw, at the soft beating pulse in the boy’s throat, nipping gently with his teeth at Harry’s collarbone. He thought he heard Harry moan low down in his throat and the sound drove him wild. One of Harry’s thighs had somehow moved between his two and Draco squirmed under Harry as their erections brushed against each other, through Draco’s silver edged-cloak. Draco stifled a gasp and, returning to his senses for a brief moment in time retrieved his wand and cast locking and silencing charms around the room. He turned back to Harry, to find that the boy was sitting back against the other arm of the sofa. Draco studied him again, and made up his mind. He threw off the cloak, let the expensive dark green velvet fall to the floor, and removed his own pyjamas of black silk.
Leaning over Harry, he nibbled his lower lip, kissed the base of his throat and fastened his teeth around a nipple. Harry’s head dipped back as Draco ran his fingers down Harry’s chest and the smooth line of dark hair below his bellybutton. Draco touched Harry’s cock tentatively, then took it in his hands and started to stroke, moving his thumb over the head and swiping at the little droplet of precum glistening there. Harry moaned again and Draco, taking heart from this, moved his head even lower and licked it. Funny that, how Bertie Botts Beans really were every flavour. Warm and salty, the taste dissolved on his tongue and he licked his lips. He licked at Harry again, his tongue flickering lightly over the deeply coloured head. He looked up at Harry and saw that he still had his head hanging back over the arm of the sofa; his heart beating so hard that Draco could almost see the pulse at his throat.
“Look at me, Potter,” he breathed into Harry’s thigh, still stroking his cock “Look at me…. ” Harry’s head snapped up and Draco could see those gorgeous glittering eyes resting on him. “Touch me, put your hands on me.” He whispered.
Draco once more bent his head, and as he felt Harry’s fingers slide into his hair, he took a deep breath and slid as much of he could of Harry’s cock into his mouth, caressing Harry’s thighs and balls with his hands. He slid off the sofa and pushed Harry’s knees apart, getting into it now, liking the throb of Harry against his tongue, the harsh breathing from both their throats, the small whimper Harry made when Draco ran his tongue along the underside of Harry’s length. He moved faster and faster, sliding the whole length into his mouth and throat, Harry’s moans filling his ears, right up to the hilt and the shock of it there made him swallow. He felt Harry’s hands tighten in his hair and stopped, not wanting to curtail such fun. He pulled Harry off the sofa onto the deep rug. He gazed into those eyes and kissed him again, his own cock straining from lack of attention.
“Now me, Potter. Go down.” He moaned. And it was like nothing he’d imagined. Those lips pursed around him, Harry’s tongue fluttering at the underside as he throated Draco again and again. Harry’s hands caressed his balls and moved lower, to his perineum and the shock of it made him gasp and moan louder than he already was. Draco spread his legs further apart and shivered as Harry’s hands moved even lower and touched his entrance. Before he could even think about it there was a finger inside of him, not thrusting yet, but then it began to move slowly. Draco moaned so hard he thought his throat would crack, and the finger slowly withdrew, only to be joined by another.
“Potter, wait, please, do the Lubricus Charm on me…. you’ll hurt me otherwise.”
Harry stopped and the questing fingers slowly withdrew. He felt the tip of a wand slightly inside him and then the same gel-like substance oozing coolly inside him. The fingers were replaced, and he felt Harry’s hot mouth engulf him again. He reached down and messed up that hair, sliding his fingers through it and tugging on it gently, like he’d imagined before. The fingers scissored inside him, loosening him and Harry’s mouth bobbed along him, swirling his tongue over the head. The pleasure was spiralling, bowling him over and he shivered again, a sharp gasp coming from his throat as Harry’s fingers grazed over his gland, and spluttered out “Take me…. please. God, I can’t stand it. Fuck me, please, oh Harry.”
The fingers slowly withdrew and he whimpered at the loss. Draco got up on all fours and felt Harry position himself behind him, the head of Harry’s cock against him. And then pressure and pleasure and pain and Harry slowly beginning to slide himself inside Draco. Resistance and acceptance and his mind swirling and more pleasure than pain, but only just, and his whimpers of need and Harry whispering through it “Moan for me, Draco. Beg me, I want to hear you beg me. Moan for me, Draco Malfoy.”
Before Draco could think about that, Harry had started to move inside him and Draco was lost. He bucked his hips at Harry, felt his strength fail as Harry slammed into him, pinning him to the ground, sliding in and out of him endlessly, effortlessly. A stream of almost incomprehensible pleading came from Draco’s lips as he begged, encouraged and moaned Harry onwards, as the pleasure escalated steadily. Draco felt Harry’s hand grasp his cock and move in time with his thrusts. He moaned as he saw stars and as Harry touched that point inside him as he thrust in yet again, and as Harry moved his hand faster and as his pleasure peaked and as he came hard, all over the floor and Harry’s hand. His orgasm must have set it off, because he felt Harry grip his hip hard with his free hand and shoot inside him, his body jerking and trembling inside him and Harry's weight falling onto him. Harry stayed there for a minute without moving, and then he pulled gently out and collapsed on the rug. Draco was still dazed, collapsing on his side and automatically moving closer to Harry. He reached dazedly for his wand.
“Finite Incantatem,” he gasped. He heard a soft laugh from behind him and felt Harry kiss his shoulder.
“The Imperius Curse doesn’t work on me Draco, it never has.” Harry whispered softly into Draco’s ear. “I’ve always been able to throw it off.” Harry kissed him again, slipping a tongue past Draco’s teeth.
“Harry…” Draco started to speak but Harry merely brushed Malfoy’s lips with his again, caressing his cheek. And leaving Draco gaping and speechless on the rug, bathed in golden firelight, pale, exhausted and sweating, Harry stood, picked up a blanket thrown off in sleep from the floor and walked over to the door. And then he was gone.
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