Draco took a step forward, only to stop abruptly at the sight of yet another milling hoard of Gryffindors. Sighing in frustration, he hovered, debating whether it would be worth waiting to see if the group dispersed.
Only a moment ago, Potter had stood as a lone figure at the entrance to the Great Hall, but now an irritating array of chirruping comrades had yet again sprung up out of nowhere to foil Draco’s plan. It wasn't a complicated plan, merely conversing with another student should be an easy enough task to accomplish, but over the last few days Draco had been growing ever more aggravated at his lack of success in speaking to Potter alone. In fact, he had begun to wonder how his original proposition had ever been possible without an eager audience.
As Potter chattered away, immersed in hearty conversation with Weasley, something in their mannerisms made Draco uneasy. The pair seemed to be standing just a little closer together than was usual. Faintly disturbed, he lurked by the nearest wall to discreetly observe.
Draco decided that Potter was leaning far too near the redhead. Growing certain that either the two Gryffindors were in a much more intimate relationship than they had disclosed or worse, Potter was relating the story of his naked tie adventure to an enraptured audience, Draco felt a rise of heat warm his cheeks. Unable to hear the conversation, he took note of every subtle movement, each tiny gesture and became convinced beyond a miniscule amount of scepticism that the latter was the truth. Draco’s vision honed on Weasley's fingers threading through his own red and gold tie and as sniggers erupted in stereo when the silk was playfully flicked, the last shred of doubt shattered.
Mortified and furious at the thoughtless disregard shown for his wishes and unwilling to witness the result as Weasley leant in, Draco abruptly emerged from his position and barged through the tiny gap between Potter and Weasley. Resisting a strong urge to hex one of them on his journey past, he contented himself for the moment with temporarily breaking the close contact between them.
Not looking back at the self-satisfied grins which undoubtedly beamed in his direction, Draco carried his fury into the nearest empty classroom, swinging the heavy wooden door ferociously behind him to release at least a little of his pent-up rage. But he was fleetingly confused when the door didn't slam. Instead, a muffled thud, shortly followed by an imaginative array of cursing, echoed from behind him.
Able to guess as to what had happened before he even turned around, Draco winced. He turned and gripped the handle to tug the slightly ajar door open the rest of the way and revealed an extremely displeased Potter, hugging his already reddening nose with both hands.
A muffled voice seeped from between Potter’s grasping fingers. "You bastard."
Trying to suppress the odd mixture of rising guilt and satisfied laughter which had suddenly risen in him, Draco sneered smugly. "Well, if you hadn't been stalking me, that wouldn't have happened."
"It wouldn't have happened if you had been paying attention to anything other than yourself for a change!"
"It's not as if there was anything better to pay attention to at the time, Potter."
Harry unclutched his hands to tip his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious attempt to stem the flow of blood. "Are you gonna help me here?"
"Why should I?"
"Why should you?" Harry snapped at the ceiling, "I think you broke my bloody nose!"
Disinclined to offer assistance, Draco tilted his head to survey the damage from where he stood. "It's not broken."
"And how would you know?"
Safe in the knowledge that his concern could not be seen from Harry's vantage point, Draco peered more closely. "It doesn't look broken."
"I'm sure it's really easy to tell through the gushing blood."
"It's hardly gushing, Potter. It's a little trickle at best."
"Considering that this was your fault, I'm gonna smack you if you don't start to show a bit more sympathy soon," Harry barked upwards. "What the hell was that all about, anyway?"
"Oh, stop whinging." Draco waved his wand dismissively in the direction of the upturned nose. A couple of quick spells later and his classmate tentatively lowered his head. "All what, Potter?"
Experimentally prodding the previously wounded flesh, Potter replied, "The dramatic exit."
"Nothing remotely dramatic occurred."
"Really?" Potter's chortle was seeped in sarcasm that any Malfoy would've been pleased with producing. "You nearly knocked us both off our feet as you stormed by."
"Then you shouldn't have been loitering in my way. But I'd have thought that you were too engrossed in relaying your titillating tale to Weasley to notice anything that I might do."
Clearly reassured that his face was still in one piece, Potter stopped his self-examination to frown up at Draco. "Relaying... what tale?"
"Weasley appeared extremely entertained by the information you shared with him."
"What information? I didn't tell him anything! Why would I?"
"It must be difficult to resist bragging about a juicy titbit like that."
"You've got a great opinion of yourself if you still think I can't wait to rush out and tell the world that the almighty blond Slytherin fucked me, or -" Potter stopped mid-rant, suddenly appearing unsure as he continued. "Or are you ashamed, is that it? Is that why you've never come near me since?"
Not remotely swayed by Potter's fake apprehension, Draco curled his lip in disgust. "And just how was I supposed to get near you Potter, through your barrier of ever-present mobbing fans?"
The snort in reply was clearly meant to indicate that the solution had been evident. "You walk over and speak to me."
"Just like you did? Or did I miss that?"
Potter's pause confirmed at least a moderate victory.
"Well, I didn't say anything to Ron. Or anyone else, because you asked me not to."
Draco wasn't convinced. "I don't believe you. The pair of you were positively hacking with laughter."
"And it wouldn't occur to you that you might not be the hot topic of conversation for once?"
"Then what were you discussing?"
Potter didn't look impressed by the demand for information. "I don't need to justify myself or my private conversations to you. A few hours spent together doesn't give you the right to run my life."
"I wouldn't want to run your pathetic little life, Potter. Or be included in it. And one fuck doesn't give you the right to ruin my reputation."
He noted that all sense of false concern had melted away as Potter countered. "Like I mentioned before, your reputation's already questionable at best. I don't think that one more tale of sordidness is gonna damage it too greatly."
Draco felt triumphant. "So, you did tell him."
"No. And I'm not gonna stand here to be called a liar."
"Then don't stand here. Go back to your Weasel."
"Okay, I will."
With that last spitting declaration, Potter swept from the argument, slamming the oak in his wake with much greater strength than even Draco had achieved.
-----------
The next few days did nothing to help alleviate Draco's frustration. But this time, his dissatisfaction was mostly directed inwards. Countless hours had been spent trying to persuade himself that he didn't care. That he was unaffected by recent events, despite the worrying way his breath hitched every time those bright eyes met his or when he caught the briefest tantalising sniff of a scent essentially Potter as Draco strode past the Gryffindor and his redheaded slut, chin poised haughtily to illustrate his indifference. He didn't care that Potter and Weasley were clearly an item and he didn't give a shit if he would never again be drawn into those welcoming arms, sated and happy from a frenzied coupling.
Eyes narrowing, he glowered from his now usual distant vantage point. No matter how he tried to rationalise and calm his reactions to the events playing out before him, Draco was becoming more infuriated to the point of distress.
"May I be so bold as to offer a suggestion?"
The quietly rumbled question shook Draco from his latest moping session. Alarmed to suddenly notice that Snape was standing at his side and extremely unnerved by the delicate lull in the professor's voice, Draco nodded cautiously.
"I believe that your work in this classroom would benefit considerably if you could tear your lust-filled gaze from the bespeckled Gryffindor on the other side of the room. At least for long enough to bestow your cauldron with some of the same rapturous attention."
Draco's jaw hung loosely as he stared back at the Potions Master, searching for a suitable reply.
"Sir, I…"
"I have made my suggestion, Mr Malfoy. The decision now rests with you whether or not to take notice before a detention is served."
"Yes, sir," he muttered to the retreating black flutter of robes.
"What's the matter?" Blaise whispered from the neighbouring cauldron.
"Nothing. I'm perfectly fine."
"You've not been very talkative lately. It's almost like you've been obsessing over something."
Draco snorted at the preposterous notion. He was a Malfoy, and he did not obsess over anything. Or anyone. As a refined breed, they were far too well-balanced individuals to let any external force disrupt their clear and concise thoughts.
"Don't be ridiculous."
A sidelong glare meant to wither had no effect on his annoyingly cheerful companion. "So, you're not obsessing, then?" chirped Blaise.
"Of course not."
"But you look like you could do with a distraction."
"A distraction?"
"Yeah."
Registering the familiar hope in the request, Draco sighed. Blaise's undisguised attraction towards him had been apparent for some time, but Draco had thus far been able to sidestep the issue without causing any awkwardness between them or affecting their friendship. He didn't answer, preferring instead to heed Snape's advice and concentrate on the work at hand, but it didn't take long for his gaze to wander back over to the ruffled black hair.
"Potter?" Blaise blurted from beside him.
Instinctively, Draco snapped his eyes back down to the desk, but he knew it was too late. He inwardly cursed his friend's persistently irritating observance.
"You're obsessing over Potter?" Blaise announced, just a little too loudly for Draco's comfort. A warning growl was issued, but his roommate was obviously too engrossed with his new discovery to take any notice. "Potter… who'd have guessed," Blaise babbled on, "but then again, I suppose it's not all that surprising."
"What do you mean 'not all that surprising'?" Draco rumbled, forgetting that he was supposed to be denying any interest.
"Just that… sometimes I think you sort of like him."
"I do not!"
"Mr Malfoy," Snape sniped from his position tormenting Longbottom several desks away, "As you have apparently decided not to heed my suggestion, you shall commence detention at 9am on Saturday morning. And if you allow yourself to become distracted again before this class is over, numerous other detentions will be added forthwith."
"I don't need him..." muttered Draco absently under his breath as he reluctantly picked up a small, silver knife to begin dicing the next ingredient.
"Whatever you say, Draco. Except that you obviously do."
Draco's exasperation and embarrassment were boiling over to the dangerous level which often led him to make decisions that he would come to regret.
"Don't presume to tell me what I require."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, don't," Draco snapped, chopping just a little too forcefully, his inner vision swimming with tangled limbs and naked bodies topped with red and black hair. Regarding the mangled remains of his roots, he knew that something had to be done. Some action would need to be taken in order to alleviate the tension, so he ventured a query, "What did you have in mind?"
"Are you admitting that you need one?"
"No, I'm asking you a question."
Blaise edged closer and a skimmed touch to his shirt collar seemed indeed to be the beginning of a distraction of sorts. "Why don't we skip dinner and find out?"
"Fine. Sounds good to me."
Risking another glance towards the other side of the classroom, Draco saw Potter's mistake before he made it. So intent was Potter’s stare in their direction that he was clearly not aware of which vial he had snatched. The ingredient poised in the clenched fist was obviously incorrect even from this distance, but the few short seconds before a drop splashed through the surface of the bubbling liquid was insufficient time to determine if Draco would have cared enough to inform him. It was only the hiss of angry steam which alerted Potter just in time to avoid scalding. As the cloud dissipated, the unmistakable shapes of rapid swearing formed on Potter’s lips as he peered down into the depths of his ruined work and Snape advanced menacingly towards him.
"Mr Potter…" drawled Snape, "ever predictably incompetent. Or does that potion appear to even closely resemble the correct colour or consistency?"
"No," grumbled Potter, still examining the contents of the cauldron. At Snape's prompting cough, he added a reluctant and not entirely respectful, "sir."
"Then you shall remain after class to receive some extensive and greatly required basic potions revision," Snape declared as he swept back towards his desk.
Draco didn't need to hear the silent insult directed at Snape's back to understand the sentiment.
-----------
As the students filtered out of the room at the end of the lesson, Draco was still clearing his work surface distractedly when he became aware of two things. Firstly, a hand was trailing its way down his back to knead at the firm mounds of his arse and secondly, Potter’s eyes were firmly locked on its progress.
"Now, about that distraction…" murmured Blaise, nuzzling into Draco’s hair.
Returning the stare with equal intensity, Draco replied in a tone he knew would be just loud enough to carry as he scooped up the last of his tools and made his way out of the room, an eager Blaise in tow. "Yes, let's create a better source of entertainment."
Pausing at the doorway, Draco wondered why Potter's crushed expression was not instilling the expected satisfaction within him. The tips of Blaise's fingers nudged teasingly under his belted waistband and the last thing Draco saw before he was fervently steered down the corridor towards the waiting bedroom was round circles of green gazing back at him with an expression of utter disbelief and sadness.
-----------
Dishevelled and flustered, Draco emerged from the Slytherin dorm, anxious to find somewhere quiet to think and make sense of his decision. Unfortunately, he hadn't made it far past Snape's classroom before shuddering as a voice full of hatred sent a chill of dread up his spine.
"So, is Zabini a good shag?"
Potter had clearly just been released from Snape's custody. Despite the usually arousing low snarl, Draco's mind was too tightly wound to allow his body to respond. Waiting for Potter to approach, he couldn't believe the disastrous timing.
"What?"
"You heard me. Is he a mind-blowing shag?" Potter came into view, knuckles strained white where they clutched at the strap of the book bag on his shoulder, and the attitude radiating from him could not have been further removed from anything as gentle as the previous sadness. Glad of the change in demeanour, Draco held his head high in arrogant retort.
"Yes. He's amazing."
Potter's lips formed a small, delicate 'o' but no sound emerged.
"The best I've had, in fact. No-one else has even come close."
"It couldn't have been that great if he's chucked you out already." Potter's stance straightened defiantly, but a slight quiver betrayed an underlying emotion, confirming Draco's increasing conviction that he had made a mistake. A small but distant voice within him was screaming that he should offer comfort, make it better, but years of well-cultivated pride bellowed loud enough to stifle it.
"Just because I refused to indulge in another ridiculous display of affection, does not indicate a lack of enjoyment on either side, Potter. Adventurous experimentation with occupants of the other houses is always no more than a mediocre distraction compared to what a skilled Slytherin can offer. And Slytherins mercifully do not require false sentiment afterwards."
"I… see."
Feeling uncomfortably exposed under the weight of the silence which followed, Draco did the only thing which felt natural enough to get him through this.
"I don't see why you're so concerned with what I do. You seem to be well occupied. Or is Weasley not fulfilling your lustful needs? I always did suspect that he'd prove to be a failure in everything he attempted, unable even to satisfy someone as gullible as you."
Potter blinked. "Ron? Why would you think that he's fulfilling anything?"
"Isn't that the case, Potter? One distracting little shag with a Slytherin and you ran straight back into the arms of your faithful redhead? Just because he's proven to be useless in yet another of his endeavours doesn't mean that you change your mind on a whim and just expect me to be available."
"I didn’t change my mind. Ron and I have never been together like that. We're friends. You know that."
"That's not what it looks like."
"You think that I've been shagging Ron?" Potter looked stunned. Draco could see the exact moment the next realisation hit him. "So, you let Zabini shag you? That was your solution?"
"It's only a solution if there's a problem in the first place."
"Right. No problem. It was just a fuck. You're free to do whatever you want." Potter's quiet resignation twisted a leaden knot of guilt in Draco's gut.
Surveying the small movement of a thumb along the bag strap while speculating whether he would ever again feel that light stroking on his skin, Draco opened his mouth to speak before he had a chance to suppress his imminent admission. "I… didn't have sex with him."
Potter’s eyes narrowed in distrust. "But you just said -"
"I know what I said," Draco murmured. "It wasn't true."
"Then why say it?"
"I wanted… to hurt you."
"Well, in that case, well done," Potter stated flatly, but his dull gaze offered no accompanying congratulations.
"I couldn't go through with it," Draco admitted, feeling unsettled with this unusual abundance of honesty.
"Why not? Was Zabini not as much fun as you thought he'd be? What a blow."
"I wasn't really paying attention to him."
"Well, that was probably the problem then. People get a bit pissed off when you ignore them." Potter let his bag slip off his shoulder to thump onto the floor, the leather strap still held by stroking fingers which Draco was finding increasingly fascinating. "So, you didn't want Zabini?"
"No, I didn't."
"Interesting. Why not? Okay, he's not my type, but he seems a willing enough body if all you're looking for is sex."
"That's… not all I want."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
The leather fell from Potter's loose grasp and Draco couldn't look up from where it landed. If he saw that open stare, he knew that he would never manage to say what he really meant.
"I want… you. I couldn't give Blaise what he wanted, because I all could think about was you."
"Oh."
Waiting for further comment which didn't appear to be quickly forthcoming, Draco could feel himself begin to crumble. Distraught that finally confessing his innermost desires had not warranted a stronger reaction, he fought to reassemble his facade, but it wasn't proving to be easy. Aware that the pitiful excuse for a mask he currently wore was not going to fool anyone, his wavering chin rose in an attempt, nonetheless.
"Is that all you can say? If you don't give a damn, maybe I should go back and reconsider Blaise's offer."
A new glint began to shine in Harry’s eyes. Transfixed, Draco observed as the expression shown from the object of his unexpected affections intriguingly softened.
"Am I gonna have to establish my territory, Malfoy?" A subtle alteration could be detected in the pitch of Potter’s snarl; it seemed lower, more ominous somehow and Draco's cock was experiencing a rapid response to the change.
He had to swallow several times before his throat relaxed enough to reply. "Yes..." he breathed.
"Okay." Smiling with an almost sweet innocence, Potter placed a palm over the Slytherin emblem on Draco’s robe and pushed. Surprising himself with the ease of his compliance, Draco allowed the pressure to guide him until his back bumped into hard stone. Without hesitation, Potter dragged him around to face the wall. Still feeling curiously obliging, Draco acquiesced.
Draco was at the wrong angle to gain any glimpse of what Potter was doing behind him, but felt his robe slide off his shoulders just before a warm body moulded to his back. Indecipherable words were quietly muttered close to his ear, but the first indication of what Potter had planned was when the cool caress of silk wrapped around Draco's left wrist and an authoritative tug raised his arm. Following its progress, Draco’s eyes widened as he noticed that a suspiciously convenient metal ring was embedded in the wall above him.
"Potter, what's that?"
The only reply was a chuckle as Potter threaded the length of Gryffindor tie through the circle of metal and secured Draco’s other wrist so both of his arms were harshly stretched upwards.
Draco's suddenly lust-fogged brain was struggling to catch up. "I'm not sure... This is not… the place for this."
"I think it's the ideal place."
"But I -"
"Don't you want me to fuck you?"
Draco struggled, but his arms were too tightly bound in their uncomfortable position to gain any real leverage. His feet were still able to rest flat on the floor, but there was not enough slack to allow much movement without losing his balance. "Anyone could walk by. Snape could hear us and come out of his office any second. Not to mention students from the Slytherin dorm."
"That's right. So, if you want to be quiet, we'll need to take some cautionary measures."
"Like what?"
Nimble fingers plucked at the tie at Draco's collar, loosening and tugging it free, then rotating the knot to the nape of his neck.
"Potter, what are you -"
"Shush. You wanted to be quiet, and so you will be."
Silk skimmed rapidly up and over his chin to slide between parted lips. Draco tried to relay his displeasure at the idea of being gagged, but somehow the words didn't quite make it out of his mouth before he felt a sharp tug secure the tie in place, smooth material flattening out against his tongue. Draco was astounded by just how effective the item of clothing was in its new purpose, as he found himself now unable to utter any more than unintelligible grunts in protest.
"I wouldn’t do anything that you don't want me to," Potter whispered as he methodically undid each button on Draco’s shirt. "Do you want me to untie you?" Warm hands explored the contours of Draco’s exposed chest, flicking over jutting nipples.
By far the most shocking event of his schooldays, at least to Draco, occurred as he slowly shook his head.
"Good."
A quiet clink announced the unclasping of Draco’s belt buckle and air shortly cooled his buttocks as both trousers and underwear were eased down in unison to pool at his ankles, effectively restraining what little freedom of movement Draco had left. He knew if he attempted to move his feet while hindered by the clothing, he ran the risk of stumbling and smacking painfully against the unyielding stone wall in front of him. A featherlike touch glided up his thigh and another chuckle from behind him when he trembled under the caress spoke of power and control which Draco usually took such care to reserve for his own use. Feeling more vulnerable than he could ever recall, he was staggered at just how easily and willingly he had given up his dominance.
As Potter’s fingers marked out a path around a hip towards his aching cock, Draco's erection pulsed with excitement. When the tips made the briefest, teasing contact with his shaft, he hung his head and hissed with unmasked pleasure, but groaned in disappointment when the action was not repeated.
Light breaths wafted over his ear as Potter whispered. "Do you want to be fucked, Malfoy?"
Draco slowly nodded.
"By just anyone?"
Alarmed at his own honesty, Draco shook his head, feeling the loose ends of the tie brush against his back.
"Only by me?"
Draco nodded again.
"Do you want me to be gentle?"
Draco's head movement declared a negative response.
"Would you like me to fuck you into the wall, Malfoy?"
Draco attempted to convey as much assent as possible into his enthusiastic nod, an act which was followed by such a deep, guttural laugh that he thought there was an imminent risk that he might spurt onto the aforementioned wall before he was even touched again.
"Are you nervous that someone might walk by here any minute and see me ramming my cock into your arse?"
Several long moments passed before Draco again shook his head. The wet tip of Potter’s erection slid the length of Draco’s crack and he shook so violently with exhilaration that he almost lost his footing. Untouched once more, he dangled, taking slow, deep, breaths through his nostrils in an attempt to calm down.
"You might want to bite down on that tie."
The ecstatic relief Draco felt when his hips were grasped and the head of Potter's cock breached him far outweighed the pain of dry entry. Palms were carefully placed flat on the wall at either side of his head before the momentum of the first inward thrust shoved Draco’s body forward until he was pressed flat against the stone. Draco let the length of material support most of his weight as Potter began to pump, Draco’s body hanging helplessly between the wall and Potter as he was mercilessly impaled with an intoxicating viciousness. A sweat-slicked chest was further dampening his shirt with the sheer effort put into every forward thrust, and Draco's front smacked into the stone repeatedly as he was taken.
Potter paused, panting into the nape of Draco's neck. "Are you enjoying this?"
The only response that Draco could muster was to shakily raise and lower his head through his rasping breaths.
"Does my cock feel good, stretching and tearing you?"
Another nod.
"Do you want to come, Malfoy?"
Whimpering, Draco was positive that desperate pleas would have escaped his lips if he had been capable of it.
"Soon."
When Potter moved once more, Draco clenched his muscles firmly around the invading cock, gripping it more tightly as the thrusts intensified. Sandwiched between his stomach and the unyielding stone surface, his own erection was painting patterns of wetness onto the wall. The building pressure within his cock and ceaseless pounding in his anus fought for attention until he thought that tears would emerge if he didn't climax soon. Thankfully, Potter had apparently decided to be merciful. The most erotic sensation Draco had ever experienced was the simple stroke of a tongue along his jawline just before Potter snarled, "Come, Draco."
When Draco obeyed, letting his orgasm pump out onto the stone and groaning against the gag, he had never felt so content. That is, until he felt Potter force even further inside and a sublime groan of release vibrate against his neck.
A mass of damp black hair soon found a resting place in the crook of Draco's right shoulder and the extra weight was pulling painfully at his bound wrists, but for that moment, he truly didn't care. As his heartbeat began to return to normal, the weight eased off and he became aware of activity above him, jostling his arms. Looking upwards, he watched the metal ring disappear, leaving just an innocent red and gold tie suspended from Potter’s grip, before Draco’s stiff arms were eased down to hang at his sides. Slumped against the wall in exhaustion, Draco raised his trembling hands to his face, but failed several attempts to prise the gag from his mouth.
"Here, I've got you." Gentle fingers easily loosened the knot and lowered the green and silver tie to rest around Draco's neck.
Draco stood with his forehead resting against the stone as he worked the stiff muscles in his jaw. Now that he was capable of speech, Draco was unsure what might be a suitable topic for conversation and Potter didn’t appear to be initiating any chatter, instead seemingly contented for the moment by the self-appointed task of redressing Draco. Too weary to protest, Draco stood slackly in position as his clothing was gently reassembled. It was only when he felt the draping swathe of his robe that he felt steady enough either in body or mind to speak.
"Potter…"
"Hmm?"
"I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"
"I know. But I think we're both as bad as each other when we get started." Draco was tenderly turned to rest his back on the wall, where he watched Potter smooth down his own clothing with something little short of wonderment. Potter projected eerie calmness as he returned his outward appearance to that of an unassuming student.
"I'm… actually amazed that no-one's come down here. This is usually a really busy corridor," Draco murmured. He was curious, but it was more through a critical need to continue the conversation now it had begun, rather than any real interest in the whereabouts of the other occupants within the school.
Potter finished straightening his own tie as a mischievous grin curled at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, did I not mention? They can't. I've had a repelling charm on either end of this corridor ever since I conjured the metal ring. Anyone venturing nearby would just change their direction, without even remembering that they wanted to walk down here."
Draco suppressed the urge to gape. "And what about Snape?"
"Oh, he could've still come out of there. I didn't include his office or classroom in the charm."
"Why not?"
"I guess I wanted there still to be just a bit of a risk. Thought you might enjoy that as you're an adventurous Slytherin, after all."
"A 'bit of a risk'?" Draco sneered, confidence regrouping as they settled back into the easy flow of bickering. "Don't you think that Snape would've been the greater risk in this?"
"Maybe," Potter’s impish smile held fast. "But I still would rather have him catch us than the rest of the population of the school."
"That's some seriously warped logic."
Potter moved closer until their lips almost touched, still grinning disarmingly. "Would you rather that I hadn't bothered? That I'd just let all our classmates see you impaled on my cock?"
"No. Well… no."
"You look like you're considering that, Malfoy."
"Of course not."
"Hmm. I think that next time I'll choose an even better populated area. And won't bother with any charms. I'm gonna fuck you in so many public places in this school that you're gonna have trouble mounting your broom for weeks."
Draco couldn't bring himself to utter a response which might dissuade Potter from that plan, so he simply asked, "Like where?"
"Wherever I like."
As his cock once again began to swell approvingly at the gruff tone, Draco simply smiled in anticipation.