[one-shots]: Virgin Revelry, 2/3, NC-17
Jan. 23rd, 2010 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lomonaaerenPart two of three.
*
Harry stood outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, scowling at his hands. Here he was at Malfoy’s big, expensive house, to beg for the help of someone who had tormented him all through school and had already made it clear that he wanted Harry in the worst possible way. Harry hated his life.
Then he remembered there were worse moments to live through—such as the moment when he’d had to explain to Hermione and Ron what Malfoy wanted—and buried his feelings in a knock on the broad, round plate in the middle of the iron gates.
The plate began to glow a soft gold. A sexless, cheerful voice said a moment later, “Who shall I say is calling, please?”
“Harry Potter,” Harry said, and managed not to make it a moan of despair by insane amounts of sheer effort.
There was a long pause, and the golden glow vanished from the plate. Harry lifted his head hopefully. Had the Manor decided not to let him in? Would he not have to deal with Malfoy after all?
Then he saw a slender figure hurrying down the long path that led beyond the gates to the house, and sighed. He slouched against the fence and watched Malfoy come in stormy gloom.
A shock suddenly hit his shoulder, running through the bars of the fence like a tame bolt of lightning. Harry straightened up with a yelp. The same cheerful voice said, “Please maintain proper posture at all times.”
Harry hadn’t finished rubbing his shoulder and glaring at the fence when the gates parted and Malfoy stepped through. He looked almost exactly as he used to do in school, except, Harry thought, that his robes were finer, and a brilliant sky-blue instead of the student black. His hair was disordered, too. Harry hoped he had pulled the git out of bed, or away from a good shag. That would at least make up a bit for what he had to ask of him.
“Harry Potter,” Malfoy breathed. His eyes raked Harry up and down with a lust that caused Harry to shake his head in annoyance. The only thing that separated Malfoy from some of the hero-worshipping students who had chased Harry through Hogwarts was that at least he wasn’t screaming. “At last.”
He stepped forwards, grabbed Harry’s chin, and drew him into a savage kiss.
Harry punched him in the ribs.
While Malfoy wheezed and stumbled and gasped in circles, Harry said, in what he hoped was a firm and frosty voice, “That is going to stop right this minute, you idiot. I came to ask for your help, not to get molested.”
Astonishingly, his words pulled Malfoy back upright, his mouth set in a haughty line and his nose up so high that Harry was surprised he could see over it. “Malfoys never molest,” he said. “I would have ravished you.”
“Well, anyway,” Harry said. He folded his arms and leaned away from the idiot. “We have to find a way to solve the paradox between my vow and the sacrifice it makes me into.”
“You haven’t considered the simplest solution?” Malfoy already looked sleek and superior again, as though Harry’s punch had never ruffled him. Harry rolled his eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Letting someone rav—er, sleep with you,” Malfoy said hopefully. “And then dealing with the Dark Lord when he reappears. There must be other ways of dealing with him.”
Harry sneered at him. “I meant the promise I made, Malfoy, and it’s still the best way to get rid of him, since it doesn’t endanger anyone’s life. Besides, if I was going to sleep with you, you’d have to be a lot different.”
Malfoy drew himself up as if Harry had challenged him to a duel. “List the ways I’d have to be different.”
Harry scowled, but then reminded himself that they needed the git’s help. He sighed. “Calmer, for one thing,” he said. “Kinder. More concerned with me and not just sleeping with me because you think I’m fit.” He had to roll his eyes again after that statement, it was so ridiculous. People don’t get one glimpse of me naked and start drooling all over themselves. It didn’t happen to Hermione or the blokes I played Quidditch with. “Less inclined to run away afterwards and brag to all their friends that they slept with the great Harry Potter.” He gave Malfoy a pointed glance that he hoped the git would feel.
Malfoy looked offended, though he spoiled it a bit by clutching at the place in his side where Harry had hit him. “You think I would tell other people the details? Of course not. Those details are mine. Besides,” he added, with a complacent smile, “talking about it probably means we couldn’t do it again.”
This time, when Harry rolled his eyes, it was in despair. “Whatever,” he said. “The person I’d want to sleep with, assuming it was possible for me, which it’s not, is not you.”
“I notice,” Malfoy said, drawing himself up with a little flourish, “that he’s not female, either.”
Harry blinked, and was silent. He’d learned in the past few years that it was a lot easier not to say anything when he was confused. That way, even though he might look like a fool, at least he didn’t both look and sound like one.
“The list of qualities you mentioned,” Malfoy said. “Nowhere in there did you say that the person you would want to sleep with would have to be female.”
Harry shrugged. “So what? It doesn’t matter, because either way you’re not going to be sleeping with me.”
“Hmmm,” Malfoy said. “If you didn’t come here to have me relieve you of your sad condition, what did you want?”
“We need someone who can spy on the people who are plotting to return Voldemort to the world and report back,” Harry said reluctantly. His only comfort was that the name still made Malfoy look apprehensively at the sky, as if he thought Voldemort would descend in a dragon-drawn chariot or something. “I mean, you’re the only one we know who can learn those things and might be willing to help us,” he added hastily. “We wouldn’t have come to you if we had a choice.”
Malfoy stood there looking at him in silence for a little while, letting the wind toss the hair out of his eyes. It was too bad he was such a git, Harry thought, because he could be handsome when his mouth was shut. His face had more color than it had ever seemed to have in Hogwarts, and his eyes were strong and clear when he wasn’t squinting them up in outrage or disgust.
“I’ll want payment,” Malfoy said then, and his voice was softer and more dangerous than it had been. Harry had the impression that he could speak the name “Voldemort” now and Malfoy wouldn’t cower. “And you know what sort of payment I want.”
“I also told you that I couldn’t give it to you,” Harry retorted.
“For each report,” Malfoy continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “a kiss.”
Harry paused and eyed him skeptically. That was a much less outrageous price than he had thought Malfoy prepared to demand. “That’s all?” he asked. “You won’t try to go further?”
Malfoy shook his head.
“You won’t try to slip me a mouthful of poison?” Harry asked. “Or stick a spike under your tongue and try to stab me to death? Or give me a kiss that would enslave me to your will?”
Malfoy blinked, looking somewhere between horrified and impressed. “That’s a nasty imagination you have there, Potter,” he said, almost reverently. “You would have made a good Slytherin.”
If only you knew, Harry thought, and the secret made it easier to smile at Malfoy. “Fine. The bargain’s off if it turns out that you’re reporting the wrong information, of course, or lying to protect your mates. And I think that you don’t deserve anything until after the first one, since you already claimed a kiss today.”
Malfoy laughed, his face relaxing into more pleasant lines than Harry had ever seen it assume. “You’re all right with this,” he said, and his voice was thick with glee. “You’re really all right.”
Harry shrugged. “I gave up the notion of having sex with people months ago. Or put my sex life at the service of the wizarding world, take your pick. I reckon I could be outraged about this, but it’s really only a variation of what I’ve been doing all along and of my own free will.”
For some reason, that made Malfoy go quiet, his eyes narrowed. Then he said, “You wouldn’t have chosen this if you really had a choice, then?”
“Of course not,” Harry said. “We’ll be waiting for your report. Send them care of owls to Hermione. People aren’t so eager to intercept her post.” He nodded to Malfoy and strode off in the direction of the Apparition point he’d used before.
“Certain things I do might make you change your mind!” Malfoy yelled after him.
Harry waved a hand at him and kept moving. This wasn’t as bad as he had thought it would be. He kept repeating that to himself as he Apparated back to the Burrow.
*
“God, I’m glad to get here, mate,” Ron said, shuddering theatrically as he walked through the entrance of the training room where Harry was already doing push-ups. Harry pulled himself up and stared at Ron curiously. Ron spent most of his nights either at the Burrow or with Hermione, who had had a Floo connection put into her parents’ house, and always groaned about having to attend Auror training at all.
“Did you have a row with Hermione?” Harry nodded in thanks as Ron flung him a towel from the bar on the wall and he began to mop the sweat from his face. Ron stripped off his robes and shirt and flung them into a corner, then dropped down and began to exercise as if his life depended on it. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron always went too fast at first.
“No,” Ron panted, his face already turning red. “Mum caught Ginny…sneaking out to…her boyfriend’s house. With more than enough, um, things to show exactly what she was going to do.” His flush got even deeper. “The yelling was enough to almost shake the house down.”
Harry snorted. He loved Mrs. Weasley, he really did, but she seemed unable to accept that her children were growing up, and that Ginny, who was almost seventeen, would have to be able to make her own decisions soon. “Well, there’s going to be yelling here, too, you know. Just a different kind.”
Ron shuddered and stood up, catching the fresh towel Harry tossed to him in turn. “Still better than thinking about my little sister having sex.”
Harry smiled at him. “You’ve been awfully good about this whole virginity vow thing,” he said. “Since it means that you have to think about me having sex.”
Ron grinned from under the towel, which he had draped over his head so that he could wipe at his hair. “Yeah, but the vow means that I don’t ever have to think about you having sex,” he said. “If you know what I mean.”
“Unless Hermione decides that’s the solution,” Harry said.
Ron nodded. Hermione had received several job offers, but was putting them off for the moment until she could decide which one she wanted to accept. She spent most of her time researching furiously to find a way that Harry could either get out of the virginity vow without bringing Voldemort back or somehow resist any attempt to make him into a virgin sacrifice. She’d been researching for a fortnight now and hadn’t had much luck. All the paradoxes she investigated turned out to dissolve because, while they might be acceptable in the minds of humans, they weren’t acceptable to the wild magic, which was not human and had its own standards.
Harry knew she’d received one report from Malfoy, which apparently contained little more than confirmation that Nott and others continued to talk about making Harry into a sacrifice to bring Voldemort back. But they hadn’t moved so far, and Harry was starting to feel a bit more confident. At least he would have warning before they did.
Ron started to say something else, and then the lights in the training room went out.
“Back-to-back,” Harry said at once, and he knew Ron nodded even though he couldn’t see it. They easily fell together, planting their shoulders against each other, and Harry tried not to squint. Instead, he concentrated on the solid pressure of Ron’s spine and the readiness he could feel coiled through his muscles. Ron had been through the same training under Mad-Eye Moody that Harry had, and he could react at least as well if not as fast.
For long moments, Harry heard nothing. He wondered if someone was creeping up on them with Silencing Charms. And then someone laughed, and he knew that laugh. His grip on his wand tightened.
“Bellatrix,” he breathed, in the whisper Moody had taught them that didn’t carry beyond the immediate vicinity. Ron shifted a little in a way that showed he’d heard Harry.
The darkness around them started to hum. Harry knew that sound, too. He wrapped an arm around Ron’s waist and threw him to the floor in the moment before a lightning bolt struck the place where Ron had been standing.
Which meant that it hit Harry instead.
He found all the breath in him frozen, his limbs jerking and twisting in weird contortions. He felt his fingers loosen, and his wand flew away. He watched it with despair, and then realized that he could see again. He would have turned his head, but the lightning paralyzing his muscles meant that he could only watch what was directly in front of him, in a pool of light cast from both wands.
Ron dueling with Bellatrix.
She was alone, but that was the only thing that was good about the fight. Her hair flew wildly around her head, and she moved like she was dancing, and her mouth was stretched in a wide, crazed smile. She cackled. Harry had heard her laughing like that when Sirius fell through the veil.
She hurled several spells that Ron was barely able to deflect, and paused to whisper something Harry couldn’t hear, but which turned Ron’s face red. Then she laughed again and moved in for the kill.
Suddenly, her face changed, and she paused for long moments, twitching, in a way that made Harry wonder if someone had hit her with an invisible lightning bolt. When she opened her mouth to speak, a liquid mess poured out instead, green and black and shimmering. She fell face-down into it, and didn’t move again.
Ron staggered backwards, mouth open in a way that clearly said that had been none of his doing. Harry felt the spell end, and he managed to stagger to his feet . He stepped towards Ron, ready to catch him if he fell.
Malfoy stepped over Bellatrix’s body and nodded coolly to both of them. “Hullo.” He wiped his foot on the floor; he must have stepped in some of the mess that Bellatrix had caused, Harry thought, part of him amused that his mind kept on working that way. “You really need to step up the security on the training rooms. Anyone could walk in.” His glance seemed to take in both Ron and Bellatrix.
Ron opened his mouth to bellow, but Harry spoke before he could. “And why didn’t you warn us of this planned assault, Malfoy?” He needed to take control of the conversation. He needed to think about anything but the fact that Malfoy had just saved his life and the life-debt that that incurred between them. “Did you think we would notice if it happened and you left it out of your report?”
“That’s a fine thanks for rescuing you,” Malfoy said, his voice nothing but quiet.
Harry had to turn away from his eyes. Ron didn’t have that problem, and spoke on. “Harry asked a good question. You claim to be a spy, but what good are you if you can’t even tell us when something major happens?”
“Bellatrix was acting on her own, and none of the other Death Eaters had spoken to her since the vanishing of the Dark Lord,” Malfoy answered promptly. Why will he take a question like that from Ron but not from me? Harry thought, scrubbing at his eyes. He used to like tampering with Ron’s feelings more than he liked affecting mine. “They think it drove her a little mad. She probably attacked to get revenge, and not because of the plan that we’ve discussed.” He lowered his voice, because Harry could hear outraged shouts from the corridor and supposed that he didn’t want to talk too openly in front of the Aurors. “The spell I used on her isn’t Dark, by the way. It simply acted on an allergy that I knew she had, that all of the Black women had. My mother nearly died of it once.”
“What allergy?” Ron demanded.
Harry could perfectly picture the freezing cold look that Malfoy turned on Ron, even though he wasn’t looking at him. “As if I would tell you, Weasel,” Malfoy whispered.
“I need you to speak for me,” Malfoy added. “They’ll want to blame someone for the security breach and for her death, and if she killed anyone on the way, they’ll be displeased to find that she’s beyond their vengeance.”
“How did you know she was here?” Harry asked, staring at the far wall. For some reason, he felt inadequate to face Malfoy right now, and he hated it.
“I was spying on her,” Malfoy said. “I have a crystal ball tuned to her—”
“Those things don’t work,” Ron scoffed.
“They do if you try to use them for the farsight they were originally adapted for, and not stupid maneuvers like trying to see the future,” Malfoy said. Harry had to admit that Malfoy sounded much calmer and more mature and in control of himself than either he or Ron did right now. “I saw her Apparating, and saw her appear outside the Ministry. And then I moved.”
He glanced at Harry, and Harry didn’t turn away this time, although it still felt like he was spitted on silver nails as far as Malfoy’s eyes went. “Are you all right? She struck you with a lightning bolt, I know. That’s odd,” he added, with a small frown. “Usually, Bellatrix liked to kill someone her victims cared about first, to demoralize them.”
“She was aiming for Ron,” Harry said. “I threw him out of the way, and it hit me instead.” He swallowed experimentally. The surge of adrenaline and the odd, conflicting feelings that came from talking to Malfoy had prevented him from noticing it before now, but his muscles still trembled with jelly-like aches and pains. And it would probably be a good idea if he sat down—
He was already dropping before the thought finished, but Malfoy conjured a chair that caught him. Harry nodded his thanks and leaned over to put his head between his knees, helped by Ron’s hand on his neck.
The room filled with the noise and shouts of Aurors demanding to know how someone had got through the wards then, but Harry still heard Malfoy’s voice through the noise as clearly as if they had been in a silent dungeon together.
“You’ll speak for me, remember.” And then, more softly, “I’ll want two kisses for this.”
Ron said something back, but Harry didn’t hear it. The words had cast him into a mental whirlwind from which it was hard enough to rise when he needed to talk to the Aurors who wanted witnesses.
*
In the end, of course, Malfoy was cleared. Harry wasn’t going to lie—though Ron whispered a few sweet, tempting words about how much easier it would be if Malfoy was at least hampered by the need to report to the Ministry for a while every day—and there had been witnesses who had seen Bellatrix storm the wards, ignoring the way they broke around her. She’d killed two Aurors, and left one for dead, who was perfectly sure his killer was a tall, dark-haired woman and not a short, pointed-face, white-haired boy.
Harry went to St. Mungo’s because everybody insisted (except Malfoy, who stood off at a distance with his arms folded and his eyes bored as if he had nothing to do with any of this). The Healers kept him overnight for observation, but admitted in the morning that they had found nothing wrong with him and he could go home. They did caution him not to attend Auror training classes for a few days.
Harry would have left at once, except that Malfoy had sent him an owl soon after the examination. So now he sat on the edge of the bed in St. Mungo’s, swinging his heels and staring at the floor.
He was unaccountably nervous about this, and he shouldn’t be. He had wanked plenty of times. He’d kissed Cho, and even Ginny a few times in sixth year before they realized there wasn’t enough passion to be going on with. He didn’t think Malfoy would be a bad kisser or press too much; he knew what he was up against with the vow of virginity.
Maybe it’s just that I don’t know what to do with him, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. He saved my life, he killed his own aunt, and he’s only asked a small price. But, on the other hand, it’s the kind of price that could make me feel dirty if it was higher. I don’t know what to do.
He had to laugh at himself. Malfoy wasn’t even in the room and Harry was already working himself into a fine froth over him, something Malfoy would probably like.
“What’s so funny? I always like to know about the things that make you laugh.”
Harry looked up sharply. Malfoy had stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him as if this was a private conference. Harry swallowed and sat up. He wouldn’t allow Malfoy to make him nervous. He wouldn’t.
“I was thinking that I react like an idiot around you, and I don’t know why,” Harry said honestly. “You’ve done good things for me, at least since you told me about this plot you discovered. And you could have asked me to have sex with you in return for the life-debt. I know you could have. I looked up how they work.”
Malfoy snorted and took off his cloak, hanging it on the peg for visitors by the door. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want the Dark Lord back any more than you do? Of course I wouldn’t ask for that.”
“Then why were you saying that you want to fuck me and so on when we were in Hogwarts?” Harry had to ask. “It sounded then as if you wanted me to break the vow.”
Malfoy licked his lips. “I was hoping that the idea would be so attractive to you that you would manage to work out some compromise with the wild magic, something that would allow you to keep the vow and yet share a bed with me. I admit, it wasn’t the best worked-out of my ideas.” He was easing towards the bed now, his eyes bright, and Harry realized his breathing was faster. Well, his own breathing was faster, too. He couldn’t really blame Malfoy for that.
“And now,” Malfoy said, his voice gone husky, “I think I’d like to claim my price.”
He put his hands out, and held them there. Harry’s face heated when he realized that Malfoy was waiting for him to stand up and move into his embrace.
“This makes me feel stupid,” he whispered, even as he did it.
“Kissing makes most people feel at least awkward, if not stupid,” Malfoy answered. “The best thing is just to ignore it and get to the part that feels good.” He wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist, one around his neck, and leaned in.
Harry met him halfway, sticking out his tongue in a way that he told himself was pathetic.
And then Malfoy’s tongue met his and curled around it, and it no longer seemed pathetic.
They swayed back and forth, now with one of them supporting their joined weight, now the other. Harry felt Malfoy’s tongue scrape and stroke his gums like the shock of another lightning bolt fired into his mouth. He shivered and moaned, and Malfoy picked up the moan and echoed it back to him, which was so fucking good that Harry shivered again. Malfoy chuckled, but it sounded like a laugh shared with Harry, not against him, and he rubbed his knuckles on the back of Harry’s neck.
The motion cleared enough of the haze in Harry’s mind to make him recognize that he could do the same thing if he wanted to and touch Malfoy other places than in the mouth. He ran one hand down his back. Malfoy froze, then moaned in turn, the first time Harry had heard him make that sound.
Harry liked it.
He swirled his tongue in circles that he hoped would distract Malfoy and then pulled his shirt up. He was glad Malfoy wasn’t wearing robes; it made it easier to touch warm skin, fever-hot skin that felt intriguingly smooth and then rough beneath Harry’s fingertips. He wondered if Malfoy had scars there or something, to make the area of his spine feel so much different than the rest.
Malfoy broke the kiss with a gasp, his head dropping back and his mouth falling open. His fingers worked open and then shut on Harry’s waist and neck, and sent unexpected little prickles of satisfaction through Harry. He smiled and increased the stroking pace of his hand, stepping closer.
“Like that,” Malfoy whispered. “Oh, like that.”
Their erections brushed against each other.
Harry shuddered, half from delight at how good it felt, and half from fear that this might break the terms of his vow. Or go too far, and then what would happen? This was just supposed to be the price that Malfoy had demanded because he had to demand something in return for risking his life. Harry wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it.
He stepped back. Malfoy lifted his head and stared at him, and Harry realized then that his hand was still in place. He retrieved it hastily, and coughed. His face was stinging from his blush.
“Why did you stop?” Malfoy whispered. “It’s never been like that with anyone else, not for me. And I don’t think it has been for you, either.”
“Because,” Harry said, and coughed to catch his breath, and realized how close he was still holding Malfoy, and shifted away, and nearly tripped over his own feet, and flushed, and had to look down at the floor, “I’m afraid that it might break the vow.”
Malfoy hummed under his breath and traced his fingers around Harry’s nose and lips. Harry felt as though someone was stroking him with feathers where the fingertips touched, and wriggled. Malfoy smiled. “I’ll accept that for an answer,” he said. “For now. Remember that you owe me another kiss for having saved your life. And oh, dear, it will be two when the next report comes in, won’t it?” He turned around and sauntered to the door.
Harry licked his lips, thinking he could still taste Malfoy on them. Then a question occurred to him, and he called after him. Malfoy halted and looked patiently at Harry, cocking his head as if he received inquiries like this all the time.
“Would you have wanted me at all, if you hadn’t seen me naked?” Harry asked. “How much of this is about what you saw during the ritual?” And how much is about something else? But he didn’t have the courage to ask that question yet, both because he thought he’d be disappointed by the answer and because there was no bloody reason for him to be disappointed.
Malfoy let his mouth curl up in half a smile. “The beginning of the ritual was everything,” he answered. “And this is a continuation.” Then he was gone from the room.
And that answers precisely nothing, Harry thought, pressing firmly on the erection between his legs to will it down. He knew he’d probably have to wank later, to get rid of the feeling of frustration tightly coiled in his gut, but he was damned if he’d wank in the middle of St. Mungo’s.
*
“I’m sorry, Harry. I just can’t find anything.”
Harry reached out and squeezed Hermione’s wrist. She looked exhausted and as if she was about to cry, and he didn’t want her to. “You’ve already been amazing, Hermione. You found the ritual that let us win in the first place. We’ll ask for help, that’s all. Dumbledore might know something. And McGonagall. It’s easy to go to them for help, since they already know about the vow.”
Hermione gulped and nodded. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “We’ll find some way to solve this problem. I don’t have to do it all by myself, do I?”
“Of course not.” Harry patted her shoulder and leaned back in his chair. He and Hermione were in the drawing room in the small house Harry had decided to buy in Hogsmeade. The Burrow was too crowded to stay in for long, especially since Mrs. Weasley, who didn’t know about the vow, had started trying to push Harry and Ginny together, and being with Hermione’s parents made Harry feel as if they were always looking at him slightly askance, waiting for him to do something magical. This house was tiny, but snug, and there were rooms in it that were all his own. Harry had never asked for anything more.
I never thought I would have this much, he reminded himself, and he smiled. Whenever he felt too cramped because of the vow, his choices determined for him, or too much under threat from the Death Eaters who wanted to capture him and use him as a sacrifice, he would remember that he still had freedom and living space and all these other things that he’d thought were impossible.
“Yes, those are good ideas,” Hermione said, reassured, as Harry had thought she would be, by the mention of authority figures. Then she looked at him sharply and said, “How are you getting along with Malfoy?”
“Er, fine,” Harry said, blinking. He hadn’t discussed the way Malfoy saved his life with Hermione, because she already seemed to know all about it by the time he mentioned a word. Ron had told her, and he was sure that she’d talked to the Healers at St. Mungo’s, too. And she hadn’t seemed to know about the two meetings Harry and Malfoy had had since then, each one full of a kiss that seemed to last much longer than the conversation.
Harry felt himself blushing, and Hermione looked at him anxiously. “It’s just that I think you have a crush on him,” she said, lowering her voice as if that was a dirty word, “and I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s still a prat. Or I don’t want you to go too far and break the vow.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “Voldemort staying away will always be the most important thing. I never thought we could get rid of him without a lot of people dying. This was spectacular, Hermione. You don’t need to worry that I’ll undo your work.” He spoke in a firm tone that he hoped would quiet her anxiety once and for all.
Hermione shook her head, face bright and kind and worried. “That’s not it, Harry, not at all. I know you’ll respect it. But I’m worried that Malfoy won’t, and in the meantime, you could get your heart broken. It would be horrible to be in love with someone and be bound by the vow.”
Harry stared at her, aware his mouth was open, but unable to care. “Hermione,” he said finally. “A crush is a long way from being in love. And there was always the possibility that I would start liking someone even after the vow. I knew that before I agreed to it. I promise, it’s not some horrible deprivation I can’t live with. Why would the wild magic have accepted my vow as sincere if I saw it that way?”
Hermione relaxed slightly. “Of course, Harry. You can’t fool the wild magic.”
Harry nodded, glad she agreed with him. And if part of him wasn’t so sure, well, he still wouldn’t break his vow. He had made it with his eyes open. What happened after that was his problem, no one else’s.
*
“I’ve heard that you’re going to the Hogwarts professors for help.”
Harry glanced up sharply. Malfoy had made his latest report on what Nott and the others who wanted to kidnap him were discussing, and Harry had written down the most important facts so that he didn’t forget them, as he had a tendency to do. He’d written slowly. He was already hard, and had wanted to give his cock, or at least his pathetic eagerness, a chance to subside before the kissing started. Malfoy had lounged on Harry’s bed, not complaining. He insisted they hold their conversations in Harry’s bedroom.
“Where did you hear that?” Harry snapped. What one person heard, others could hear.
“Oh,” Malfoy said, rolling on his back and staring up at the ceiling that Harry had decorated with stars so that it somewhat resembled the ceiling of the Great Hall at night, “from my ears. I heard that Granger had been spotted going into Hogwarts and up to the Headmaster’s office. Most people don’t know what she could be doing there, but I do.” He shot Harry a glance from one eye only; the other was still busy with Harry’s imaginary constellations. “You know, if you wanted extra aid with the research on finding a way around both the virginity vow and the danger of sacrifice, you only had to ask me.”
“What makes you think you’d be any good at it?” Harry asked flatly, and then turned back to write down the last thing Malfoy had said. Other people might draw the right conclusions, too, at least if they had asked the wild magic about the virginity vow.
Malfoy crossed the floor between them so quickly that Harry didn’t have a chance to brace himself, and his hand scrawled a long line of ink across the parchment as he found himself borne back into the chair. Malfoy pressed his lips in, his hands holding Harry’s down. Harry tried to kick Malfoy off, and Malfoy stepped in between his spread legs and ground against him.
Harry gasped, and Malfoy began a slow, steady rubbing that caused the building excitement Harry had already felt to turn gold and begin to burn.
But this still might break the vow. Harry didn’t know, and he forced himself to think of something else than how much he wanted Malfoy to continue. He brought up his knees, which Malfoy had nudged aside to reach his cock, and slammed them into Malfoy’s chest. The air went out of Malfoy with a huff, and he staggered back and sat down next to the bed, rubbing his sternum.
“The Auror training is benefiting you, Potter,” he said breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, unwilling to talk about it, because for some reason the words had reminded him that Malfoy had seen him half-naked in the training room on the day he’d killed Bellatrix. “What was that for?”
“The answer to your question,” Malfoy said with infuriating innocence. “I’d be good at it because I want to fuck you far more than anyone else wants to kidnap you. And knowing that someday I might be able to do that, at least if I can help you work around the vow to the wild magic’s satisfaction, is one strong inducement.”
“I told you once before,” Harry said with a calmness he was very far from feeling as his hand brushed his erection, “I don’t want someone who just lusts after me.”
Malfoy lifted his head, and the look on his face stole Harry’s indignation and amusement alike. “Tell me that what you feel when I kiss you is only lust,” Malfoy whispered.
Harry swallowed. “I don’t think it is,” he said. “But that’s all you ever talk about. You want to sleep with me. Great. But as a driving reason for you to research lots of intricate and highly complex ancient magic, it sucks.” Malfoy’s eyes widened in astonishment, but Harry kept plowing ahead, not giving himself enough time to think about what that would mean. “What if you overlook something or rush through it because you think it might allow us to sleep together earlier?”
Malfoy bowed his head and rose to his feet. “All right, I can see why you would be worried,” he said, as he brushed dust from the bed off his trouser legs. “And I’ll count that as the kiss you owed me for this report.” He looked pointedly between Harry’s legs, but Harry had spotted the bulge he carried, too, and settled for a glare in return. Malfoy looked away. “I’ll come back with at least two options next time,” he said. “And maybe then you’ll see the wisdom of listening to me.”
“I always listen to you,” Harry snapped. “I just don’t always do what you want.”
Malfoy glanced back at him with one of those flames in his eyes that could always make Harry feel as if he should simply stop moving and sit still when it fell on him. “And how glad I am,” Malfoy said lightly, and then turned and left the room.
Harry leaned back against his chair and pressed down on his erection. I will not wank while Malfoy is still in the house, I will not wank while Malfoy is still in the house…
He heard the door shut, or thought he did, and ripped open his trousers frantically, grumbling in relief as he took himself into hand. Fuck it.
He stroked up towards the shaft, then down towards the tip, and smeared the liquid he could already feel dripping into his skin. He was gasping. He licked his left hand and lowered it to touch himself, jolting with how good it felt. He wondered what it would be like if Malfoy was touching him.
And then he had to bend over in his chair and writhe from the strength of that imagery.
It’s just a picture, he’s not even here, how can he affect me so powerfully?
But he did, and Harry was desperately biting his fist so that he wouldn’t cry out. The sound of his hand stroking and his cock slapping against his palm grew so loud that he started panting partially to cover it. He was grateful that no one else was here—
“I thought so.”
Harry jerked his head up as Malfoy stepped back into his bedroom. He smirked at Harry and shut the door behind him. Harry stared at him, but he couldn’t stop touching himself. He was so close, and Malfoy was looking at him the way Harry had imagined he would look if he was with Harry when he began wanking, and it felt so good—
“Don’t stop for me.” Malfoy’s voice was low and eager and dark. “This is what I wanted to see. Yeah, Potter, come on. Come—”
Harry tilted his head back, bit savagely at the skin around his wrist, and did as Malfoy suggested.
The orgasm made him shake and give low cries even though he tried desperately to muffle them. But then, said a hazy part of his brain that somehow made more sense than the rest, Malfoy had already seen the single most embarrassing thing he could, Harry masturbating over him, so why should he care about what else he saw?
He’d barely caught his breath when Malfoy was on him, shoving him back into his chair, his panting so loud that Harry found it hard to listen to. Malfoy spread his legs wider than Harry was prepared to have them go, so wide his thighs ached, and settled himself between them. His trousers were already gaping. Harry felt a moment’s regret that he hadn’t got to see Malfoy open them.
Malfoy gripped Harry’s thighs and started riding up and down between them, his cock touching Harry’s. Harry stared down at him, hypnotized. He would have reached down and helped, but Malfoy didn’t seem to want that. He was rising up and falling down entirely under his own power, his eyes locked on Harry’s penis, his breath coming in greedy gasps.
He’s trying not to break the vow, Harry realized suddenly. Hermione told me. If someone touched me without my really consenting to it, then it can’t break the vow, no matter what they do. And rubbing against each other probably doesn’t count anyway, given what the wild magic thinks about virginity—
He blinked and shook his head vigorously, because why in the world was he thinking about something that dry and abstract when he could think about something wet and physical happening right in front of him instead?
Malfoy tilted his head back, shuddering. He winked at Harry right before his eyes flew shut and he moaned. A moment later, Harry felt himself soaked with come. It was a rush of warmth and stickiness that made his cock twitch.
But unfortunately, his Boy-Who-Lived powers didn’t extend to such a quick recovery. Instead, he watched as Malfoy sagged forwards and leaned his head against him, panting. Malfoy opened an eye after a minute and surged up, grabbing Harry’s neck so that he could offer him a kiss.
Harry returned the kiss with all the force in him, grinding into Malfoy again and feeling both smug and interested at the limpness of Malfoy’s cock. That was fun. It was unexpected and too fast and too hot but it was—fun.
Maybe because it was unexpected and fast and hot.
Malfoy pulled back from the kiss at last, though licking at Harry’s lips on the way, as though he wouldn’t be parted from them until the motion of their bodies forced them away. “I take it, from that,” he said, eyes heavy-lidded and smirk wider and warmer than it had ever been in Hogwarts, “that I’m not about to be clubbed over the head and handed to the authorities.”
“If I club you over the head,” Harry said, almost jumping when he heard his own hoarse voice, “it will be to drag you into my bed so we can do that again.”
Malfoy cocked his head. “What? No comments about the vow now?”
Harry sighed. “At one point, Ron suggested that I could become a sort of half-virgin by having sex like—this—with someone.” It was ridiculous to be worried about saying the words in front of Malfoy, with all else they had discussed and what they’d just done, but he was. And at the moment, Harry’s wasn’t inclined to question his impulses. He would just indulge them and see what happened. “Hermione said it wouldn’t work. The wild magic considers penetrative sex something that takes your virginity, and nothing else.”
Malfoy froze, staring at him. Then he said, in a low, dangerous voice, “You mean, we could have been doing this from the moment I saw you naked, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know then!” Harry snapped. “Ron only asked that question after you told me about this plan to kidnap and sacrifice me.” He shoved at Malfoy’s chest when he continued to glare. “Why the fuck am I trying to justify myself to you, anyway?”
“Because we’ve fucked, now,” Malfoy said, seizing Harry’s wrists in one hand.
“I hate to tell you, since you’ve led such a sheltered life,” Harry argued as Malfoy tilted him back in the chair, pulling his wrists over his head, “but that was not fucking.”
“My life has been wide enough,” Malfoy said. “It’s your vocabulary that’s poor. When I said I would fuck you, I wasn’t picky about the definition. I simply wanted to do it.” He was considering Harry now with a critical, pleased gaze that at once made Harry feel defensive and happy. “Yes,” he murmured at last, “you’ll do. You meet my high standards.”
Harry braced himself then and shoved, and Malfoy staggered off-balance as Harry wrenched his wrists free. “I told you once,” Harry said, standing up and brushing dust off his shoulders. “I didn’t care to be spoken to by someone who was only interested in fucking me. I want what I can never have, a family and a steady lover and someone who’s not interested in only being with me for sex.”
“I can’t give you the family,” Malfoy said. He paused and looked thoughtful. “Unless you’d like me to apprise my parents that—”
“Are you mad?” Harry pushed his hands through his hair and glared at Malfoy. “I don’t know what to make of you sometimes.”
Malfoy gave him a bright smile that was still somehow fragile. “I don’t know what to make of myself. I’ve never felt this way, never acted this way. I’ve never wanted someone with the frankly frightening strength that I want you.” He reached out and curled his fingers in the collar of Harry’s shirt, drawing his head closer again. Harry allowed it, though he hardly knew if he should. Malfoy stared at him from a short distance away, panting, but didn’t try to kiss him again.
“I want you so much,” he whispered. “I want to be near you even when we aren’t fucking. But it’s so tied up with the way I felt when I saw you naked, and the way I felt when I came into the room just now and saw you wanking, that I don’t know what else it is. You want something you can trust in. I don’t know if you can trust in this.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Did someone tell you to say that?” he demanded.
“If I had someone that good advising me, I would have been able to coax you into bed first thing.” Malfoy released his collar and moved a few feet away, eyeing him mistrustfully now. “What do you mean?”
“I prefer honesty to almost anything else,” Harry said. He cast a Cleaning Charm and tucked his cock back into his pants. The way Malfoy’s eyes followed the motions of his hands made him feel ashamed and excited at once. “Why would you say that if you weren’t trying to get in good with me?”
“If I didn’t mean it, it wouldn’t be honesty, would it?” Malfoy pointed out.
Harry sighed and raked his hand through his hair. Everything was confusing. He probably shouldn’t want what Malfoy offered, especially since they hadn’t yet come up with a way to circumvent the virginity vow, but he wanted it anyway. He wanted to have sex with him again, and he wanted to talk with him, and he wanted his help researching a way to satisfy the wild magic on both conditions, that of being a virgin and that of being a non-virgin.
Malfoy began to snicker.
Harry looked up, annoyed. The sound had interrupted his serious thoughts and made him feel a bit stupid for having them. “What?’
Malfoy pointed to his hair. “You cast the Cleaning Charm on your lap,” he said, “but not on the hand that held the wand.”
Part Three.
*
Harry stood outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, scowling at his hands. Here he was at Malfoy’s big, expensive house, to beg for the help of someone who had tormented him all through school and had already made it clear that he wanted Harry in the worst possible way. Harry hated his life.
Then he remembered there were worse moments to live through—such as the moment when he’d had to explain to Hermione and Ron what Malfoy wanted—and buried his feelings in a knock on the broad, round plate in the middle of the iron gates.
The plate began to glow a soft gold. A sexless, cheerful voice said a moment later, “Who shall I say is calling, please?”
“Harry Potter,” Harry said, and managed not to make it a moan of despair by insane amounts of sheer effort.
There was a long pause, and the golden glow vanished from the plate. Harry lifted his head hopefully. Had the Manor decided not to let him in? Would he not have to deal with Malfoy after all?
Then he saw a slender figure hurrying down the long path that led beyond the gates to the house, and sighed. He slouched against the fence and watched Malfoy come in stormy gloom.
A shock suddenly hit his shoulder, running through the bars of the fence like a tame bolt of lightning. Harry straightened up with a yelp. The same cheerful voice said, “Please maintain proper posture at all times.”
Harry hadn’t finished rubbing his shoulder and glaring at the fence when the gates parted and Malfoy stepped through. He looked almost exactly as he used to do in school, except, Harry thought, that his robes were finer, and a brilliant sky-blue instead of the student black. His hair was disordered, too. Harry hoped he had pulled the git out of bed, or away from a good shag. That would at least make up a bit for what he had to ask of him.
“Harry Potter,” Malfoy breathed. His eyes raked Harry up and down with a lust that caused Harry to shake his head in annoyance. The only thing that separated Malfoy from some of the hero-worshipping students who had chased Harry through Hogwarts was that at least he wasn’t screaming. “At last.”
He stepped forwards, grabbed Harry’s chin, and drew him into a savage kiss.
Harry punched him in the ribs.
While Malfoy wheezed and stumbled and gasped in circles, Harry said, in what he hoped was a firm and frosty voice, “That is going to stop right this minute, you idiot. I came to ask for your help, not to get molested.”
Astonishingly, his words pulled Malfoy back upright, his mouth set in a haughty line and his nose up so high that Harry was surprised he could see over it. “Malfoys never molest,” he said. “I would have ravished you.”
“Well, anyway,” Harry said. He folded his arms and leaned away from the idiot. “We have to find a way to solve the paradox between my vow and the sacrifice it makes me into.”
“You haven’t considered the simplest solution?” Malfoy already looked sleek and superior again, as though Harry’s punch had never ruffled him. Harry rolled his eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Letting someone rav—er, sleep with you,” Malfoy said hopefully. “And then dealing with the Dark Lord when he reappears. There must be other ways of dealing with him.”
Harry sneered at him. “I meant the promise I made, Malfoy, and it’s still the best way to get rid of him, since it doesn’t endanger anyone’s life. Besides, if I was going to sleep with you, you’d have to be a lot different.”
Malfoy drew himself up as if Harry had challenged him to a duel. “List the ways I’d have to be different.”
Harry scowled, but then reminded himself that they needed the git’s help. He sighed. “Calmer, for one thing,” he said. “Kinder. More concerned with me and not just sleeping with me because you think I’m fit.” He had to roll his eyes again after that statement, it was so ridiculous. People don’t get one glimpse of me naked and start drooling all over themselves. It didn’t happen to Hermione or the blokes I played Quidditch with. “Less inclined to run away afterwards and brag to all their friends that they slept with the great Harry Potter.” He gave Malfoy a pointed glance that he hoped the git would feel.
Malfoy looked offended, though he spoiled it a bit by clutching at the place in his side where Harry had hit him. “You think I would tell other people the details? Of course not. Those details are mine. Besides,” he added, with a complacent smile, “talking about it probably means we couldn’t do it again.”
This time, when Harry rolled his eyes, it was in despair. “Whatever,” he said. “The person I’d want to sleep with, assuming it was possible for me, which it’s not, is not you.”
“I notice,” Malfoy said, drawing himself up with a little flourish, “that he’s not female, either.”
Harry blinked, and was silent. He’d learned in the past few years that it was a lot easier not to say anything when he was confused. That way, even though he might look like a fool, at least he didn’t both look and sound like one.
“The list of qualities you mentioned,” Malfoy said. “Nowhere in there did you say that the person you would want to sleep with would have to be female.”
Harry shrugged. “So what? It doesn’t matter, because either way you’re not going to be sleeping with me.”
“Hmmm,” Malfoy said. “If you didn’t come here to have me relieve you of your sad condition, what did you want?”
“We need someone who can spy on the people who are plotting to return Voldemort to the world and report back,” Harry said reluctantly. His only comfort was that the name still made Malfoy look apprehensively at the sky, as if he thought Voldemort would descend in a dragon-drawn chariot or something. “I mean, you’re the only one we know who can learn those things and might be willing to help us,” he added hastily. “We wouldn’t have come to you if we had a choice.”
Malfoy stood there looking at him in silence for a little while, letting the wind toss the hair out of his eyes. It was too bad he was such a git, Harry thought, because he could be handsome when his mouth was shut. His face had more color than it had ever seemed to have in Hogwarts, and his eyes were strong and clear when he wasn’t squinting them up in outrage or disgust.
“I’ll want payment,” Malfoy said then, and his voice was softer and more dangerous than it had been. Harry had the impression that he could speak the name “Voldemort” now and Malfoy wouldn’t cower. “And you know what sort of payment I want.”
“I also told you that I couldn’t give it to you,” Harry retorted.
“For each report,” Malfoy continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “a kiss.”
Harry paused and eyed him skeptically. That was a much less outrageous price than he had thought Malfoy prepared to demand. “That’s all?” he asked. “You won’t try to go further?”
Malfoy shook his head.
“You won’t try to slip me a mouthful of poison?” Harry asked. “Or stick a spike under your tongue and try to stab me to death? Or give me a kiss that would enslave me to your will?”
Malfoy blinked, looking somewhere between horrified and impressed. “That’s a nasty imagination you have there, Potter,” he said, almost reverently. “You would have made a good Slytherin.”
If only you knew, Harry thought, and the secret made it easier to smile at Malfoy. “Fine. The bargain’s off if it turns out that you’re reporting the wrong information, of course, or lying to protect your mates. And I think that you don’t deserve anything until after the first one, since you already claimed a kiss today.”
Malfoy laughed, his face relaxing into more pleasant lines than Harry had ever seen it assume. “You’re all right with this,” he said, and his voice was thick with glee. “You’re really all right.”
Harry shrugged. “I gave up the notion of having sex with people months ago. Or put my sex life at the service of the wizarding world, take your pick. I reckon I could be outraged about this, but it’s really only a variation of what I’ve been doing all along and of my own free will.”
For some reason, that made Malfoy go quiet, his eyes narrowed. Then he said, “You wouldn’t have chosen this if you really had a choice, then?”
“Of course not,” Harry said. “We’ll be waiting for your report. Send them care of owls to Hermione. People aren’t so eager to intercept her post.” He nodded to Malfoy and strode off in the direction of the Apparition point he’d used before.
“Certain things I do might make you change your mind!” Malfoy yelled after him.
Harry waved a hand at him and kept moving. This wasn’t as bad as he had thought it would be. He kept repeating that to himself as he Apparated back to the Burrow.
*
“God, I’m glad to get here, mate,” Ron said, shuddering theatrically as he walked through the entrance of the training room where Harry was already doing push-ups. Harry pulled himself up and stared at Ron curiously. Ron spent most of his nights either at the Burrow or with Hermione, who had had a Floo connection put into her parents’ house, and always groaned about having to attend Auror training at all.
“Did you have a row with Hermione?” Harry nodded in thanks as Ron flung him a towel from the bar on the wall and he began to mop the sweat from his face. Ron stripped off his robes and shirt and flung them into a corner, then dropped down and began to exercise as if his life depended on it. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron always went too fast at first.
“No,” Ron panted, his face already turning red. “Mum caught Ginny…sneaking out to…her boyfriend’s house. With more than enough, um, things to show exactly what she was going to do.” His flush got even deeper. “The yelling was enough to almost shake the house down.”
Harry snorted. He loved Mrs. Weasley, he really did, but she seemed unable to accept that her children were growing up, and that Ginny, who was almost seventeen, would have to be able to make her own decisions soon. “Well, there’s going to be yelling here, too, you know. Just a different kind.”
Ron shuddered and stood up, catching the fresh towel Harry tossed to him in turn. “Still better than thinking about my little sister having sex.”
Harry smiled at him. “You’ve been awfully good about this whole virginity vow thing,” he said. “Since it means that you have to think about me having sex.”
Ron grinned from under the towel, which he had draped over his head so that he could wipe at his hair. “Yeah, but the vow means that I don’t ever have to think about you having sex,” he said. “If you know what I mean.”
“Unless Hermione decides that’s the solution,” Harry said.
Ron nodded. Hermione had received several job offers, but was putting them off for the moment until she could decide which one she wanted to accept. She spent most of her time researching furiously to find a way that Harry could either get out of the virginity vow without bringing Voldemort back or somehow resist any attempt to make him into a virgin sacrifice. She’d been researching for a fortnight now and hadn’t had much luck. All the paradoxes she investigated turned out to dissolve because, while they might be acceptable in the minds of humans, they weren’t acceptable to the wild magic, which was not human and had its own standards.
Harry knew she’d received one report from Malfoy, which apparently contained little more than confirmation that Nott and others continued to talk about making Harry into a sacrifice to bring Voldemort back. But they hadn’t moved so far, and Harry was starting to feel a bit more confident. At least he would have warning before they did.
Ron started to say something else, and then the lights in the training room went out.
“Back-to-back,” Harry said at once, and he knew Ron nodded even though he couldn’t see it. They easily fell together, planting their shoulders against each other, and Harry tried not to squint. Instead, he concentrated on the solid pressure of Ron’s spine and the readiness he could feel coiled through his muscles. Ron had been through the same training under Mad-Eye Moody that Harry had, and he could react at least as well if not as fast.
For long moments, Harry heard nothing. He wondered if someone was creeping up on them with Silencing Charms. And then someone laughed, and he knew that laugh. His grip on his wand tightened.
“Bellatrix,” he breathed, in the whisper Moody had taught them that didn’t carry beyond the immediate vicinity. Ron shifted a little in a way that showed he’d heard Harry.
The darkness around them started to hum. Harry knew that sound, too. He wrapped an arm around Ron’s waist and threw him to the floor in the moment before a lightning bolt struck the place where Ron had been standing.
Which meant that it hit Harry instead.
He found all the breath in him frozen, his limbs jerking and twisting in weird contortions. He felt his fingers loosen, and his wand flew away. He watched it with despair, and then realized that he could see again. He would have turned his head, but the lightning paralyzing his muscles meant that he could only watch what was directly in front of him, in a pool of light cast from both wands.
Ron dueling with Bellatrix.
She was alone, but that was the only thing that was good about the fight. Her hair flew wildly around her head, and she moved like she was dancing, and her mouth was stretched in a wide, crazed smile. She cackled. Harry had heard her laughing like that when Sirius fell through the veil.
She hurled several spells that Ron was barely able to deflect, and paused to whisper something Harry couldn’t hear, but which turned Ron’s face red. Then she laughed again and moved in for the kill.
Suddenly, her face changed, and she paused for long moments, twitching, in a way that made Harry wonder if someone had hit her with an invisible lightning bolt. When she opened her mouth to speak, a liquid mess poured out instead, green and black and shimmering. She fell face-down into it, and didn’t move again.
Ron staggered backwards, mouth open in a way that clearly said that had been none of his doing. Harry felt the spell end, and he managed to stagger to his feet . He stepped towards Ron, ready to catch him if he fell.
Malfoy stepped over Bellatrix’s body and nodded coolly to both of them. “Hullo.” He wiped his foot on the floor; he must have stepped in some of the mess that Bellatrix had caused, Harry thought, part of him amused that his mind kept on working that way. “You really need to step up the security on the training rooms. Anyone could walk in.” His glance seemed to take in both Ron and Bellatrix.
Ron opened his mouth to bellow, but Harry spoke before he could. “And why didn’t you warn us of this planned assault, Malfoy?” He needed to take control of the conversation. He needed to think about anything but the fact that Malfoy had just saved his life and the life-debt that that incurred between them. “Did you think we would notice if it happened and you left it out of your report?”
“That’s a fine thanks for rescuing you,” Malfoy said, his voice nothing but quiet.
Harry had to turn away from his eyes. Ron didn’t have that problem, and spoke on. “Harry asked a good question. You claim to be a spy, but what good are you if you can’t even tell us when something major happens?”
“Bellatrix was acting on her own, and none of the other Death Eaters had spoken to her since the vanishing of the Dark Lord,” Malfoy answered promptly. Why will he take a question like that from Ron but not from me? Harry thought, scrubbing at his eyes. He used to like tampering with Ron’s feelings more than he liked affecting mine. “They think it drove her a little mad. She probably attacked to get revenge, and not because of the plan that we’ve discussed.” He lowered his voice, because Harry could hear outraged shouts from the corridor and supposed that he didn’t want to talk too openly in front of the Aurors. “The spell I used on her isn’t Dark, by the way. It simply acted on an allergy that I knew she had, that all of the Black women had. My mother nearly died of it once.”
“What allergy?” Ron demanded.
Harry could perfectly picture the freezing cold look that Malfoy turned on Ron, even though he wasn’t looking at him. “As if I would tell you, Weasel,” Malfoy whispered.
“I need you to speak for me,” Malfoy added. “They’ll want to blame someone for the security breach and for her death, and if she killed anyone on the way, they’ll be displeased to find that she’s beyond their vengeance.”
“How did you know she was here?” Harry asked, staring at the far wall. For some reason, he felt inadequate to face Malfoy right now, and he hated it.
“I was spying on her,” Malfoy said. “I have a crystal ball tuned to her—”
“Those things don’t work,” Ron scoffed.
“They do if you try to use them for the farsight they were originally adapted for, and not stupid maneuvers like trying to see the future,” Malfoy said. Harry had to admit that Malfoy sounded much calmer and more mature and in control of himself than either he or Ron did right now. “I saw her Apparating, and saw her appear outside the Ministry. And then I moved.”
He glanced at Harry, and Harry didn’t turn away this time, although it still felt like he was spitted on silver nails as far as Malfoy’s eyes went. “Are you all right? She struck you with a lightning bolt, I know. That’s odd,” he added, with a small frown. “Usually, Bellatrix liked to kill someone her victims cared about first, to demoralize them.”
“She was aiming for Ron,” Harry said. “I threw him out of the way, and it hit me instead.” He swallowed experimentally. The surge of adrenaline and the odd, conflicting feelings that came from talking to Malfoy had prevented him from noticing it before now, but his muscles still trembled with jelly-like aches and pains. And it would probably be a good idea if he sat down—
He was already dropping before the thought finished, but Malfoy conjured a chair that caught him. Harry nodded his thanks and leaned over to put his head between his knees, helped by Ron’s hand on his neck.
The room filled with the noise and shouts of Aurors demanding to know how someone had got through the wards then, but Harry still heard Malfoy’s voice through the noise as clearly as if they had been in a silent dungeon together.
“You’ll speak for me, remember.” And then, more softly, “I’ll want two kisses for this.”
Ron said something back, but Harry didn’t hear it. The words had cast him into a mental whirlwind from which it was hard enough to rise when he needed to talk to the Aurors who wanted witnesses.
*
In the end, of course, Malfoy was cleared. Harry wasn’t going to lie—though Ron whispered a few sweet, tempting words about how much easier it would be if Malfoy was at least hampered by the need to report to the Ministry for a while every day—and there had been witnesses who had seen Bellatrix storm the wards, ignoring the way they broke around her. She’d killed two Aurors, and left one for dead, who was perfectly sure his killer was a tall, dark-haired woman and not a short, pointed-face, white-haired boy.
Harry went to St. Mungo’s because everybody insisted (except Malfoy, who stood off at a distance with his arms folded and his eyes bored as if he had nothing to do with any of this). The Healers kept him overnight for observation, but admitted in the morning that they had found nothing wrong with him and he could go home. They did caution him not to attend Auror training classes for a few days.
Harry would have left at once, except that Malfoy had sent him an owl soon after the examination. So now he sat on the edge of the bed in St. Mungo’s, swinging his heels and staring at the floor.
He was unaccountably nervous about this, and he shouldn’t be. He had wanked plenty of times. He’d kissed Cho, and even Ginny a few times in sixth year before they realized there wasn’t enough passion to be going on with. He didn’t think Malfoy would be a bad kisser or press too much; he knew what he was up against with the vow of virginity.
Maybe it’s just that I don’t know what to do with him, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. He saved my life, he killed his own aunt, and he’s only asked a small price. But, on the other hand, it’s the kind of price that could make me feel dirty if it was higher. I don’t know what to do.
He had to laugh at himself. Malfoy wasn’t even in the room and Harry was already working himself into a fine froth over him, something Malfoy would probably like.
“What’s so funny? I always like to know about the things that make you laugh.”
Harry looked up sharply. Malfoy had stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him as if this was a private conference. Harry swallowed and sat up. He wouldn’t allow Malfoy to make him nervous. He wouldn’t.
“I was thinking that I react like an idiot around you, and I don’t know why,” Harry said honestly. “You’ve done good things for me, at least since you told me about this plot you discovered. And you could have asked me to have sex with you in return for the life-debt. I know you could have. I looked up how they work.”
Malfoy snorted and took off his cloak, hanging it on the peg for visitors by the door. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want the Dark Lord back any more than you do? Of course I wouldn’t ask for that.”
“Then why were you saying that you want to fuck me and so on when we were in Hogwarts?” Harry had to ask. “It sounded then as if you wanted me to break the vow.”
Malfoy licked his lips. “I was hoping that the idea would be so attractive to you that you would manage to work out some compromise with the wild magic, something that would allow you to keep the vow and yet share a bed with me. I admit, it wasn’t the best worked-out of my ideas.” He was easing towards the bed now, his eyes bright, and Harry realized his breathing was faster. Well, his own breathing was faster, too. He couldn’t really blame Malfoy for that.
“And now,” Malfoy said, his voice gone husky, “I think I’d like to claim my price.”
He put his hands out, and held them there. Harry’s face heated when he realized that Malfoy was waiting for him to stand up and move into his embrace.
“This makes me feel stupid,” he whispered, even as he did it.
“Kissing makes most people feel at least awkward, if not stupid,” Malfoy answered. “The best thing is just to ignore it and get to the part that feels good.” He wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist, one around his neck, and leaned in.
Harry met him halfway, sticking out his tongue in a way that he told himself was pathetic.
And then Malfoy’s tongue met his and curled around it, and it no longer seemed pathetic.
They swayed back and forth, now with one of them supporting their joined weight, now the other. Harry felt Malfoy’s tongue scrape and stroke his gums like the shock of another lightning bolt fired into his mouth. He shivered and moaned, and Malfoy picked up the moan and echoed it back to him, which was so fucking good that Harry shivered again. Malfoy chuckled, but it sounded like a laugh shared with Harry, not against him, and he rubbed his knuckles on the back of Harry’s neck.
The motion cleared enough of the haze in Harry’s mind to make him recognize that he could do the same thing if he wanted to and touch Malfoy other places than in the mouth. He ran one hand down his back. Malfoy froze, then moaned in turn, the first time Harry had heard him make that sound.
Harry liked it.
He swirled his tongue in circles that he hoped would distract Malfoy and then pulled his shirt up. He was glad Malfoy wasn’t wearing robes; it made it easier to touch warm skin, fever-hot skin that felt intriguingly smooth and then rough beneath Harry’s fingertips. He wondered if Malfoy had scars there or something, to make the area of his spine feel so much different than the rest.
Malfoy broke the kiss with a gasp, his head dropping back and his mouth falling open. His fingers worked open and then shut on Harry’s waist and neck, and sent unexpected little prickles of satisfaction through Harry. He smiled and increased the stroking pace of his hand, stepping closer.
“Like that,” Malfoy whispered. “Oh, like that.”
Their erections brushed against each other.
Harry shuddered, half from delight at how good it felt, and half from fear that this might break the terms of his vow. Or go too far, and then what would happen? This was just supposed to be the price that Malfoy had demanded because he had to demand something in return for risking his life. Harry wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it.
He stepped back. Malfoy lifted his head and stared at him, and Harry realized then that his hand was still in place. He retrieved it hastily, and coughed. His face was stinging from his blush.
“Why did you stop?” Malfoy whispered. “It’s never been like that with anyone else, not for me. And I don’t think it has been for you, either.”
“Because,” Harry said, and coughed to catch his breath, and realized how close he was still holding Malfoy, and shifted away, and nearly tripped over his own feet, and flushed, and had to look down at the floor, “I’m afraid that it might break the vow.”
Malfoy hummed under his breath and traced his fingers around Harry’s nose and lips. Harry felt as though someone was stroking him with feathers where the fingertips touched, and wriggled. Malfoy smiled. “I’ll accept that for an answer,” he said. “For now. Remember that you owe me another kiss for having saved your life. And oh, dear, it will be two when the next report comes in, won’t it?” He turned around and sauntered to the door.
Harry licked his lips, thinking he could still taste Malfoy on them. Then a question occurred to him, and he called after him. Malfoy halted and looked patiently at Harry, cocking his head as if he received inquiries like this all the time.
“Would you have wanted me at all, if you hadn’t seen me naked?” Harry asked. “How much of this is about what you saw during the ritual?” And how much is about something else? But he didn’t have the courage to ask that question yet, both because he thought he’d be disappointed by the answer and because there was no bloody reason for him to be disappointed.
Malfoy let his mouth curl up in half a smile. “The beginning of the ritual was everything,” he answered. “And this is a continuation.” Then he was gone from the room.
And that answers precisely nothing, Harry thought, pressing firmly on the erection between his legs to will it down. He knew he’d probably have to wank later, to get rid of the feeling of frustration tightly coiled in his gut, but he was damned if he’d wank in the middle of St. Mungo’s.
*
“I’m sorry, Harry. I just can’t find anything.”
Harry reached out and squeezed Hermione’s wrist. She looked exhausted and as if she was about to cry, and he didn’t want her to. “You’ve already been amazing, Hermione. You found the ritual that let us win in the first place. We’ll ask for help, that’s all. Dumbledore might know something. And McGonagall. It’s easy to go to them for help, since they already know about the vow.”
Hermione gulped and nodded. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “We’ll find some way to solve this problem. I don’t have to do it all by myself, do I?”
“Of course not.” Harry patted her shoulder and leaned back in his chair. He and Hermione were in the drawing room in the small house Harry had decided to buy in Hogsmeade. The Burrow was too crowded to stay in for long, especially since Mrs. Weasley, who didn’t know about the vow, had started trying to push Harry and Ginny together, and being with Hermione’s parents made Harry feel as if they were always looking at him slightly askance, waiting for him to do something magical. This house was tiny, but snug, and there were rooms in it that were all his own. Harry had never asked for anything more.
I never thought I would have this much, he reminded himself, and he smiled. Whenever he felt too cramped because of the vow, his choices determined for him, or too much under threat from the Death Eaters who wanted to capture him and use him as a sacrifice, he would remember that he still had freedom and living space and all these other things that he’d thought were impossible.
“Yes, those are good ideas,” Hermione said, reassured, as Harry had thought she would be, by the mention of authority figures. Then she looked at him sharply and said, “How are you getting along with Malfoy?”
“Er, fine,” Harry said, blinking. He hadn’t discussed the way Malfoy saved his life with Hermione, because she already seemed to know all about it by the time he mentioned a word. Ron had told her, and he was sure that she’d talked to the Healers at St. Mungo’s, too. And she hadn’t seemed to know about the two meetings Harry and Malfoy had had since then, each one full of a kiss that seemed to last much longer than the conversation.
Harry felt himself blushing, and Hermione looked at him anxiously. “It’s just that I think you have a crush on him,” she said, lowering her voice as if that was a dirty word, “and I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s still a prat. Or I don’t want you to go too far and break the vow.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “Voldemort staying away will always be the most important thing. I never thought we could get rid of him without a lot of people dying. This was spectacular, Hermione. You don’t need to worry that I’ll undo your work.” He spoke in a firm tone that he hoped would quiet her anxiety once and for all.
Hermione shook her head, face bright and kind and worried. “That’s not it, Harry, not at all. I know you’ll respect it. But I’m worried that Malfoy won’t, and in the meantime, you could get your heart broken. It would be horrible to be in love with someone and be bound by the vow.”
Harry stared at her, aware his mouth was open, but unable to care. “Hermione,” he said finally. “A crush is a long way from being in love. And there was always the possibility that I would start liking someone even after the vow. I knew that before I agreed to it. I promise, it’s not some horrible deprivation I can’t live with. Why would the wild magic have accepted my vow as sincere if I saw it that way?”
Hermione relaxed slightly. “Of course, Harry. You can’t fool the wild magic.”
Harry nodded, glad she agreed with him. And if part of him wasn’t so sure, well, he still wouldn’t break his vow. He had made it with his eyes open. What happened after that was his problem, no one else’s.
*
“I’ve heard that you’re going to the Hogwarts professors for help.”
Harry glanced up sharply. Malfoy had made his latest report on what Nott and the others who wanted to kidnap him were discussing, and Harry had written down the most important facts so that he didn’t forget them, as he had a tendency to do. He’d written slowly. He was already hard, and had wanted to give his cock, or at least his pathetic eagerness, a chance to subside before the kissing started. Malfoy had lounged on Harry’s bed, not complaining. He insisted they hold their conversations in Harry’s bedroom.
“Where did you hear that?” Harry snapped. What one person heard, others could hear.
“Oh,” Malfoy said, rolling on his back and staring up at the ceiling that Harry had decorated with stars so that it somewhat resembled the ceiling of the Great Hall at night, “from my ears. I heard that Granger had been spotted going into Hogwarts and up to the Headmaster’s office. Most people don’t know what she could be doing there, but I do.” He shot Harry a glance from one eye only; the other was still busy with Harry’s imaginary constellations. “You know, if you wanted extra aid with the research on finding a way around both the virginity vow and the danger of sacrifice, you only had to ask me.”
“What makes you think you’d be any good at it?” Harry asked flatly, and then turned back to write down the last thing Malfoy had said. Other people might draw the right conclusions, too, at least if they had asked the wild magic about the virginity vow.
Malfoy crossed the floor between them so quickly that Harry didn’t have a chance to brace himself, and his hand scrawled a long line of ink across the parchment as he found himself borne back into the chair. Malfoy pressed his lips in, his hands holding Harry’s down. Harry tried to kick Malfoy off, and Malfoy stepped in between his spread legs and ground against him.
Harry gasped, and Malfoy began a slow, steady rubbing that caused the building excitement Harry had already felt to turn gold and begin to burn.
But this still might break the vow. Harry didn’t know, and he forced himself to think of something else than how much he wanted Malfoy to continue. He brought up his knees, which Malfoy had nudged aside to reach his cock, and slammed them into Malfoy’s chest. The air went out of Malfoy with a huff, and he staggered back and sat down next to the bed, rubbing his sternum.
“The Auror training is benefiting you, Potter,” he said breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, unwilling to talk about it, because for some reason the words had reminded him that Malfoy had seen him half-naked in the training room on the day he’d killed Bellatrix. “What was that for?”
“The answer to your question,” Malfoy said with infuriating innocence. “I’d be good at it because I want to fuck you far more than anyone else wants to kidnap you. And knowing that someday I might be able to do that, at least if I can help you work around the vow to the wild magic’s satisfaction, is one strong inducement.”
“I told you once before,” Harry said with a calmness he was very far from feeling as his hand brushed his erection, “I don’t want someone who just lusts after me.”
Malfoy lifted his head, and the look on his face stole Harry’s indignation and amusement alike. “Tell me that what you feel when I kiss you is only lust,” Malfoy whispered.
Harry swallowed. “I don’t think it is,” he said. “But that’s all you ever talk about. You want to sleep with me. Great. But as a driving reason for you to research lots of intricate and highly complex ancient magic, it sucks.” Malfoy’s eyes widened in astonishment, but Harry kept plowing ahead, not giving himself enough time to think about what that would mean. “What if you overlook something or rush through it because you think it might allow us to sleep together earlier?”
Malfoy bowed his head and rose to his feet. “All right, I can see why you would be worried,” he said, as he brushed dust from the bed off his trouser legs. “And I’ll count that as the kiss you owed me for this report.” He looked pointedly between Harry’s legs, but Harry had spotted the bulge he carried, too, and settled for a glare in return. Malfoy looked away. “I’ll come back with at least two options next time,” he said. “And maybe then you’ll see the wisdom of listening to me.”
“I always listen to you,” Harry snapped. “I just don’t always do what you want.”
Malfoy glanced back at him with one of those flames in his eyes that could always make Harry feel as if he should simply stop moving and sit still when it fell on him. “And how glad I am,” Malfoy said lightly, and then turned and left the room.
Harry leaned back against his chair and pressed down on his erection. I will not wank while Malfoy is still in the house, I will not wank while Malfoy is still in the house…
He heard the door shut, or thought he did, and ripped open his trousers frantically, grumbling in relief as he took himself into hand. Fuck it.
He stroked up towards the shaft, then down towards the tip, and smeared the liquid he could already feel dripping into his skin. He was gasping. He licked his left hand and lowered it to touch himself, jolting with how good it felt. He wondered what it would be like if Malfoy was touching him.
And then he had to bend over in his chair and writhe from the strength of that imagery.
It’s just a picture, he’s not even here, how can he affect me so powerfully?
But he did, and Harry was desperately biting his fist so that he wouldn’t cry out. The sound of his hand stroking and his cock slapping against his palm grew so loud that he started panting partially to cover it. He was grateful that no one else was here—
“I thought so.”
Harry jerked his head up as Malfoy stepped back into his bedroom. He smirked at Harry and shut the door behind him. Harry stared at him, but he couldn’t stop touching himself. He was so close, and Malfoy was looking at him the way Harry had imagined he would look if he was with Harry when he began wanking, and it felt so good—
“Don’t stop for me.” Malfoy’s voice was low and eager and dark. “This is what I wanted to see. Yeah, Potter, come on. Come—”
Harry tilted his head back, bit savagely at the skin around his wrist, and did as Malfoy suggested.
The orgasm made him shake and give low cries even though he tried desperately to muffle them. But then, said a hazy part of his brain that somehow made more sense than the rest, Malfoy had already seen the single most embarrassing thing he could, Harry masturbating over him, so why should he care about what else he saw?
He’d barely caught his breath when Malfoy was on him, shoving him back into his chair, his panting so loud that Harry found it hard to listen to. Malfoy spread his legs wider than Harry was prepared to have them go, so wide his thighs ached, and settled himself between them. His trousers were already gaping. Harry felt a moment’s regret that he hadn’t got to see Malfoy open them.
Malfoy gripped Harry’s thighs and started riding up and down between them, his cock touching Harry’s. Harry stared down at him, hypnotized. He would have reached down and helped, but Malfoy didn’t seem to want that. He was rising up and falling down entirely under his own power, his eyes locked on Harry’s penis, his breath coming in greedy gasps.
He’s trying not to break the vow, Harry realized suddenly. Hermione told me. If someone touched me without my really consenting to it, then it can’t break the vow, no matter what they do. And rubbing against each other probably doesn’t count anyway, given what the wild magic thinks about virginity—
He blinked and shook his head vigorously, because why in the world was he thinking about something that dry and abstract when he could think about something wet and physical happening right in front of him instead?
Malfoy tilted his head back, shuddering. He winked at Harry right before his eyes flew shut and he moaned. A moment later, Harry felt himself soaked with come. It was a rush of warmth and stickiness that made his cock twitch.
But unfortunately, his Boy-Who-Lived powers didn’t extend to such a quick recovery. Instead, he watched as Malfoy sagged forwards and leaned his head against him, panting. Malfoy opened an eye after a minute and surged up, grabbing Harry’s neck so that he could offer him a kiss.
Harry returned the kiss with all the force in him, grinding into Malfoy again and feeling both smug and interested at the limpness of Malfoy’s cock. That was fun. It was unexpected and too fast and too hot but it was—fun.
Maybe because it was unexpected and fast and hot.
Malfoy pulled back from the kiss at last, though licking at Harry’s lips on the way, as though he wouldn’t be parted from them until the motion of their bodies forced them away. “I take it, from that,” he said, eyes heavy-lidded and smirk wider and warmer than it had ever been in Hogwarts, “that I’m not about to be clubbed over the head and handed to the authorities.”
“If I club you over the head,” Harry said, almost jumping when he heard his own hoarse voice, “it will be to drag you into my bed so we can do that again.”
Malfoy cocked his head. “What? No comments about the vow now?”
Harry sighed. “At one point, Ron suggested that I could become a sort of half-virgin by having sex like—this—with someone.” It was ridiculous to be worried about saying the words in front of Malfoy, with all else they had discussed and what they’d just done, but he was. And at the moment, Harry’s wasn’t inclined to question his impulses. He would just indulge them and see what happened. “Hermione said it wouldn’t work. The wild magic considers penetrative sex something that takes your virginity, and nothing else.”
Malfoy froze, staring at him. Then he said, in a low, dangerous voice, “You mean, we could have been doing this from the moment I saw you naked, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know then!” Harry snapped. “Ron only asked that question after you told me about this plan to kidnap and sacrifice me.” He shoved at Malfoy’s chest when he continued to glare. “Why the fuck am I trying to justify myself to you, anyway?”
“Because we’ve fucked, now,” Malfoy said, seizing Harry’s wrists in one hand.
“I hate to tell you, since you’ve led such a sheltered life,” Harry argued as Malfoy tilted him back in the chair, pulling his wrists over his head, “but that was not fucking.”
“My life has been wide enough,” Malfoy said. “It’s your vocabulary that’s poor. When I said I would fuck you, I wasn’t picky about the definition. I simply wanted to do it.” He was considering Harry now with a critical, pleased gaze that at once made Harry feel defensive and happy. “Yes,” he murmured at last, “you’ll do. You meet my high standards.”
Harry braced himself then and shoved, and Malfoy staggered off-balance as Harry wrenched his wrists free. “I told you once,” Harry said, standing up and brushing dust off his shoulders. “I didn’t care to be spoken to by someone who was only interested in fucking me. I want what I can never have, a family and a steady lover and someone who’s not interested in only being with me for sex.”
“I can’t give you the family,” Malfoy said. He paused and looked thoughtful. “Unless you’d like me to apprise my parents that—”
“Are you mad?” Harry pushed his hands through his hair and glared at Malfoy. “I don’t know what to make of you sometimes.”
Malfoy gave him a bright smile that was still somehow fragile. “I don’t know what to make of myself. I’ve never felt this way, never acted this way. I’ve never wanted someone with the frankly frightening strength that I want you.” He reached out and curled his fingers in the collar of Harry’s shirt, drawing his head closer again. Harry allowed it, though he hardly knew if he should. Malfoy stared at him from a short distance away, panting, but didn’t try to kiss him again.
“I want you so much,” he whispered. “I want to be near you even when we aren’t fucking. But it’s so tied up with the way I felt when I saw you naked, and the way I felt when I came into the room just now and saw you wanking, that I don’t know what else it is. You want something you can trust in. I don’t know if you can trust in this.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Did someone tell you to say that?” he demanded.
“If I had someone that good advising me, I would have been able to coax you into bed first thing.” Malfoy released his collar and moved a few feet away, eyeing him mistrustfully now. “What do you mean?”
“I prefer honesty to almost anything else,” Harry said. He cast a Cleaning Charm and tucked his cock back into his pants. The way Malfoy’s eyes followed the motions of his hands made him feel ashamed and excited at once. “Why would you say that if you weren’t trying to get in good with me?”
“If I didn’t mean it, it wouldn’t be honesty, would it?” Malfoy pointed out.
Harry sighed and raked his hand through his hair. Everything was confusing. He probably shouldn’t want what Malfoy offered, especially since they hadn’t yet come up with a way to circumvent the virginity vow, but he wanted it anyway. He wanted to have sex with him again, and he wanted to talk with him, and he wanted his help researching a way to satisfy the wild magic on both conditions, that of being a virgin and that of being a non-virgin.
Malfoy began to snicker.
Harry looked up, annoyed. The sound had interrupted his serious thoughts and made him feel a bit stupid for having them. “What?’
Malfoy pointed to his hair. “You cast the Cleaning Charm on your lap,” he said, “but not on the hand that held the wand.”
Part Three.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-01-24 01:43 am (UTC)on to part 3!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-24 02:54 am (UTC)Harry punched him in the ribs.
While Malfoy wheezed and stumbled and gasped in circles, Harry said, in what he hoped was a firm and frosty voice, “That is going to stop right this minute, you idiot. I came to ask for your help, not to get molested.”
OH MY GOD, this had me laughing out loud. Classic.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-24 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 01:14 am (UTC)