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sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Three: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, explicit sex between men, confusion about sex (not non-con really!) and as you can guess, angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
Draco was sitting alone in the dining room, staring into his bowl of ice cream.
He'd sneaked back into the kitchen after dinner, glad that Eppy wasn't around. The place had been quiet, and his rummaging through the cupboards had sounded unrealistically loud in his ears.
It had been the first time he'd browsed through the various cupboards in the kitchen. At least no one had suggested he cooked yet; they probably understood that he'd never made even a sandwich in his life. For someone so good in Potions, boiling his own tea water would be overwhelming.
Finding all sorts of hidden delicacies, he'd decided to grab ice cream instead of other sweets. It kind of suited his mood right now.
"Happy birthday to me." Cynical laughter followed the words.
It was a far cry from his earlier birthdays. No presents. No party. Snape had congratulated him in the morning, but that was all. His eighteenth birthday, that would have been the biggest celebration; the signpost of his adulthood, the old pureblood tradition.
Here he was, celebrating the day without his family, all alone with a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. Feeling both lousy and relieved.
For no matter how saddened he was by the loneliness and the loss of friendships, he couldn't help thinking about what would have followed the celebrations if things were different; the gathering in the great hall of the mansion. The masked men surrounding him as he pledged his life to Voldemort.
He brushed his hand against his left arm, pushing the sleeve up and staring at his pale skin. No Dark Mark there.
Not now, not ever!
It wasn't such a bad exchange. Maybe he didn't have presents and people fawning over him, but at least he wasn't a slave either. The things they had discussed about a few days ago with Snape and the Gryffindors -- that Snape and Potter had talked about and he and Weasley had listened in shock -- only confirmed that he'd made the right decision.
He wished Potter's nightmare hadn't ended the tentative talks about war. No matter how incredulous it had been to hear about missions for the Dark Lord as they really were, as cold blooded murder in the dark, it had been better than to sit here alone and think about crawling.
Draco Malfoy would not crawl. He was glad it didn't seem like Potter would take pleasure in humiliating him, for it had been the one thing he'd hold onto. Now and always.
He had made the right decision when he'd walked away from the Dark Lord and was now his own man.
Smiling slightly he lifted the spoon and then licked it clean. The sweetness of the ice cream didn't completely take away the bitterness. Nothing really could. He had lost too much to be really happy. His vault was probably gone, his savings back in the huge vaults belonging to the Head of Malfoy family. He had no friends, no home, no father.
"At least I still have my health." The amusement in his voice bordered on hysteria.
Merlin, how he wished he could stop thinking about all this crap, wished he had some plans for the future, real plans that would work. Wished he'd found the liquor cabinet that Eppy had undoubtedly hidden somewhere.
Getting really drunk would have been a very good idea. A tradition. Maybe he'd try to do it again the next year. If he was alive.
Not a good thought. He wasn't going to start sniveling over his fate like an idiot. A drunken bout of self-pity would have been acceptable. Without the assistance of a hard drink, it would just be stupid.
It was quiet in the cottage. The last time he'd seen Weasley, he'd been in the living room, dozing off on a couch. He'd seen the looks Potter had been throwing at the professor earlier. Those two were probably off somewhere.
He still couldn't decide what he thought about that. Even though Snape was his legal guardian now, he didn't really care whom he was shagging. On the other hand, he was feeling burning jealousy towards Potter. Why the hell should he have everything when he had nothing?
Another bad thought, driving him into anger instead of brooding.
Or maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. Dealing with anger was definitely easier than dealing with all this maudlin. Crying wasn't really befitting to someone like him. Going to pick a fight -- and winning -- was more dignifying.
Not that he would pick a fight with Potter. He'd given away that choice along with his almost perfect life.
At least he had someone to bait here. Scraping the last of the ice cream from the bowl, he let a wicked grin spread on his lips. He hadn't really done anything with Weasley after finally finding his weak spot. Toying with him, using simple smirks had been fun. But perhaps it was time for something else.
They had less than two more weeks here. Then the school term would end and everyone at Hogwarts would leave and they would have to leave the cottage too.
No more Weasley-baiting. It would be a pity to leave such loose ends.
Draco pushed the bowl back. He couldn't care less about who washed it. He certainly wasn't going to. It was his birthday and he was not going to work like a Muggle today. He would find something good to do and forget all about his glorious future that had dissolved ages ago.
Sneer firmly in place, he got up and walked out of the dining room.
The door to Snape's room was firmly closed as usual. There were no sounds coming from there, but Draco could imagine exactly what was happening behind the closed door. Walking towards the living room, he wondered what Weasley had said when he'd found out that his heroic friend was getting cozy with their Potions master.
It would have been a sight to see; Weasley gaping like a fish on dry land, probably spluttering something inane. Nothing new there, really.
Moving quietly so that he wouldn't disturb anyone -- not that he really believed that they would hear him -- he went to the living room, not pausing at the doorway even as he saw Weasley sit on the couch. Usually he would have considered the intelligence of being here alone with him. Now, he simply didn't care.
He didn't want to stay upstairs all evening, hiding from everyone. Not today. His mind was already filled with disgustingly morose thoughts and he didn't want to dwell on them.
He wanted to do something that would take his mind off the bad things. Weasley -baiting worked every time, and maybe it was indeed time to up the score. Smirking didn't seem to get to Weasley anymore, so he'd have to think of something else.
This was his day, his life, and he was going to have some fun here even without drinking or a proper cake or a nice pile of presents.
Ron looked up from the chess board he'd been studying. Seeing the blond Slytherin saunter in made him glower.
This was about the last thing he needed right now. When Harry had disappeared again -- and he was not going to think about that -- he'd decided to have a game against the board, practicing some ideas he had. For some reason he hadn't been able to leave downstairs. He needed to see Harry would be all right.
No. He was still not thinking about it!
All he wanted was some peace and quiet, preferably shared with Harry. But no, Harry was off... And he was not going to finish that thought! And now Malfoy was walking across the room to stand at the window. Probably just waiting for a good moment to make his life even more miserable.
Ron tried very hard to concentrate on the chess pieces, but simply couldn't take his attention away from Malfoy who was undoubtedly going to do something evil as soon as he looked away. He just knew that.
"That looks interesting."
Although he'd expected some kind of a comment, Malfoy's soft words still made Ron startle. "Whatever." He was not about to do this.
Draco smiled at the sullen tone. This was exactly the thing that would take his mind off all the angsting. He moved closer to the board and let out a humming sound.
The sound made Ron's skin crawl. He hated that, hated the way Malfoy could make him react to a simple sound. Damn it! The git had spent the last weeks just staring at him. Why did he have to pick this exact moment to start with the verbal taunts as well?
Draco made sure his leg brushed against the couch as he leaned over the board. The movement made Weasley jump. He was so predictable! He let out another soft sound, as if he was contemplating a move. As he was. Just not on the board.
"Look, Malfoy, whatever you're up to, I'm not interested." Ron hated the innocent expression in the grey eyes. "Go away."
He could deal with this like a grown up. Every time he wanted to kick Malfoy's arse, he'd just think of what Harry had said. That he wasn't worth such hate. Even if he was. He was worth every dark thought Ron had.
Instead of backing up, Malfoy cast a very knowing look at him and then let his gaze sweep over his body. The piercing look made him fluster, heat rising to his face.
He hated this! Hated this with such burning passion it made his whole body tingle with tension.
Very slowly, Ron pushed the board back a little and then stood up. He was going to make Harry damn proud and walk away. Right now. No matter how he wanted to smack that smirk away from Malfoy's face.
A soft chuckle escaped Malfoy. An extremely self satisfied sound that seemed almost deafening in the silence of the room.
Ron froze as if he'd been hit by the petrifying charm. There were so many things he could deal with, but this was not one of those. Malfoy was laughing at him. Laughing. He squeezed his hand into a fist.
It had been like this from the day he'd arrived in Hogwarts. Comments about his hair, his brothers, the poverty of his family. Malfoy and his goons following him and Harry around, always trying to cause trouble.
He could handle that; the anger, the nasty comments. It was all right if there was a Slytherin with whom they had rivalry. That was expected with someone whose whole family had been Gryffindors for decades. Such anger made him equal with Malfoy; he hated him back with fervor.
Laughter and this new icky staring thing were different.
They made him feel small. So damn small. Reminding him of his old and worn robes and small allowance. He hated that more than anything, the feeling of total insignificance he couldn't really even fight.
"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Ron was sick and tired of this. All the glances, all the smiles. Nothing tangible he could call out as evidence, but the mood between Malfoy and him enough to make him crazy.
There was no reply, not even the anticipated 'you wish'. Instead, Malfoy raised an eyebrow, the expression as provocative as always. A smirk still on his lips.
That did it. "If you're really so interested in me, then why the hell are you just smirking at me, you git?" Face livid with anger, Ron looked at Malfoy, feeling the need to hurt him grow again. "You're a coward, Malfoy, a fucking coward!"
He spat the last words out. It felt good to say it out. No more innuendo and weird looks. No more almost-touches or shivers of fear and disgust when he passed the Slytherin by.
Draco let his smirk melt into a genuine smile of triumph. This was what he had waited for, the balance of control shifting so completely there was nothing left to be gained anymore. He won, the game was over.
He didn't think Weasley knew just how badly he had lost it with his outburst, but it was enough for him to know that he had succeeded in what he'd planned all along. There was nothing else for him to really do but to throw him a blank, mildly disgusted look and walk away.
To his surprise, Draco realized that he didn't care about that anymore. The game had been fun, but the real excitement in it had been quite different from what it used to be.
He blinked. Was it a victory if he had ensnared himself in desire as well? Could he walk away now? It didn't feel right. He'd much rather take this to another level; finish with the game altogether and enjoy his prize.
After all, it was his birthday. He deserved a present.
Ron couldn't understand why Malfoy was still smiling. "What?" He was determined not to be the one to run away this time. He would stand here and fight, no matter what.
The only problem was, Malfoy wasn't fighting back, wasn't following the rules. Instead he was walking towards him. If he tried to kiss Ron again, he'd punch him in the face so hard he knocked him out!
So close that one step would bring his chest against Weasley's, Draco stopped, and then sank gracefully to his knees. His hands were on Weasley's fly before the redhead could stop gawking for long enough to protest.
"What the hell are you doing?" No matter how hard Ron tried, it didn't come out as an outraged scream. His throat was closing in. It was hard to breathe.
And Malfoy was still there, on his knees, touching him.
It was the most disgusting thing he had ever felt, worse than Malfoy's lips against his. That touch on his skin, reaching into his pants and grabbing him. Those knowing lips curling into an awful knowing smile as he pulled his prick clear from clothes.
Ron wanted to kill Malfoy. Until this moment, he had simply wanted to hurt him, bad. The red hot rage filling him had nothing to do with punching the git. He was about to do something far worse. Reaching out with his hands, he intended to push Malfoy away and then grab his wand. No words would be more unforgivable than what Malfoy was now doing to him.
He was not going to take this any more.
Instead of shoving Malfoy away, his hands touched his head almost hesitantly. Ron gaped in horror, unable to comprehend what was just happening. Why weren't his hands obeying him? He was not brushing that blond hair back. Was not!
"Ngrh..." He moaned, sounding embarrassingly like he was actually enjoying what Malfoy was doing. This was so wrong and disgusting! He was certain the sound had started as a very firm 'no!'
Maybe he was under the imperius. That had to be it, for he couldn't move, couldn't get away from the touch. He didn't know how Malfoy could manage the Unforgivable without touching his wand or murmuring the word out, for those deep red lips were now touching his thigh. His naked skin.
The incredibly soft mouth brushing against his hip. The hint of teeth as Malfoy nipped his skin. Teasing him with slow licks. Moving excruciatingly slow to his groin.
He was not hard. Was not hard. Would not harden under the questing fingers and those lips and... "Sweet Merlin!" A sob escaped him as his body proved him a liar.
No matter how hard he tried to escape, he was rooted here. His treacherous fingers were now curling in Malfoy's hair, holding his head in a tight grip. It didn't seem that Malfoy minded.
Malfoy had done this before, he could tell. There was no hesitation, no teeth scraping against his tender flesh. His hands knew just where to touch, how hard to squeeze, his mouth a hot and moist cavern enveloping him over and over again.
Ron felt like crying. He didn't know why he was doing this. The sensations overwhelming him couldn't be enough, he couldn't be starving for sex this bad. Not bad enough to like what Malfoy was doing to him. This wasn't sex; this was something else, domination or a game. He didn't want to play, but he just couldn't move away.
Tightening his grip on the strangely soft strands of hair, he pulled Malfoy even closer, slamming himself into that mouth. Anger was battling with arousal, and he wanted Malfoy to know who really was in charge here. Wanted to see him splutter and gag, wanted him to beg for mercy. Wanted him... to never stop this.
Soft sounds escaped Malfoy, reverberating against his erection, forcing a groan out of his mouth. He didn't know what the sounds were about, but could imagine them to be mocking words. They made his hips twist faster, to shut him up. Whatever to make him quiet.
A hand came to steady him, and Ron looked down to see Malfoy's grey eyes looking straight back at him. The expression in his gaze stole his breath away.
Even on his knees in front of him, Malfoy was still smirking at him. His lips might be wrapped around his prick, but his whole being was still thrumming with amusement. Ron could see it, he could see how Malfoy was shaking. With laughter no doubt.
Then he realized that it had nothing to do with laughter. Malfoy was holding his hand under his own robes, rubbing himself while sucking him off.
"Fuck!" Jerking violently, Ron pushed himself into Malfoy's mouth and came, not caring that he was probably hurting him. Malfoy could suffocate for all he cared.
No such luck. Instead of a blessed silence, he could feel Malfoy gasp something and shudder against him. Collapsing against his legs, Malfoy slumped there, breathing hard, his every exhale caressing his thighs.
"What the..." Almost unable to choke the words out, Ron demanded, "What the hell did you just do, Malfoy?" Tears prickled behind his firmly closed eyelids, and he had to blink to make them go away. It worked, but seeing the world again was even worse than crying. Looking down, he could see a sated smile on Malfoy, his gaze twinkling with mischief, lips swollen and stained with his come.
Ron wanted to throw up. He probably would have, but he felt so empty inside while his whole body thrummed with contentment.
Straightening his back, Draco lifted his hand to brush against his mouth. He couldn't believe he'd actually done this, and that Weasley had simply stood there. "You taste good." The words escaped him, but he didn't mind. As long as they were accompanied by a smirk, everything would be just fine.
He could see by the widening of Weasley's eyes that it was totally unexpected for him to say something like that.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, making sure that he brushed against Weasley's body moving up. He could feel the Gryffindor shiver. "We must do that again." Realizing that something was keeping Weasley from moving, he planted a kiss on his flustered cheek. It was a soft peck, nothing more.
Draco had got what he wanted, so there was no reason for him to linger. He'd have to clean himself and change his clothes. It had been some time since he'd come in his robes, but he could still remember how disgusting that would feel if he didn't get moving right now.
Maybe if he used a charm and some water from the pitcher next to his bed, he wouldn't have to go launder again.
Happy birthday to him indeed!
Mind already on simple cleaning, he turned around and walked out of the room. He almost collided with Potter at the door, but didn't pay any attention to him. He felt too good to even gloat.
Harry frowned at Malfoy and turned to Ron, annoyed words already on his lips. Seeing his friend, he could only stare. His mouth fell open and he stood there, taking in the way Ron looked completely disheveled. His lower lip was bruised as if he'd bitten it, and his clothes were...
"Um... Ron? You might want to..." Nodding at his midsection, Harry tried very hard not to smile as Ron started to fumble with his fly.
Then realization hit him, wiping away the beginning of the smile.
Ron tucked himself in, his hands trembling as he zipped his trousers. Bile was rising to his mouth, and he felt like he was going to throw up any moment now. He didn't know why. After all, it wasn't he who had just sucked prick. And swallowed.
The thought made him shake even harder, and he buried his face in his hands, groaning as in pain.
"What the hell happened here, Ron." Anger bordering rage, Harry stepped closer. He was going to kill Malfoy. "Ron? Are you..." He couldn't ask if he was all right. That would be stupid.
Even with the question unasked, Ron nodded, still hiding behind his hands. "Oh fuck!" Well, not really. Not fuck. They had not fucked. It had just been a blow job. One he had enjoyed tremendously.
Malfoy. Sucking his prick like he was born to do that. And he'd let him. Held him tight as he'd moved deeper into that mouth. Stared at him as he came.
He gagged. "Oh, fuck, Harry! Fuck!"
