Midnight Duel - part I (HP/DM/HG/OFC)
Sep. 20th, 2008 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redorchidsA couple of weeks back, Lariope and I ran word counts on the sex scenes in our respective stories and analysed the results. (Inspired by a livejournal post by TheOhara, link and results can be found at my LJ if anyone’s interested.) It turns out that my mind has been completely warped by romance novels in my early teens, resulting in very euphemism-heavy smut with next to no naughty words on my part. I think the naughtiest one was ‘length,’ so you can imagine. Anyhow, I thought I should practice. See if I can actually write the word ‘cock’ without blushing (nope, not yet at least). And since I’ve also just read through the scripts of seasons one and two of Queer as Folk and done some heavy YouTubeing, I just had to put some DM/HP in there. So slash and dirty words. Oh, and a foursome thrown in as a bonus. If that can’t cure my near Victorian shyness for naughty writing, nothing will. So, enjoy everyone. Hope you’ll like.
Title: Midnight Duel
Chapter: 1(2) - Single combat
Summary: Harry and Draco work out their agressions. Hermione helps. Oh, and Draco's wife too. (Post-Hogwarts, somewhere between EWE and canon.)
Pairing: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger
Rating: NC-17 (very much so)
Warnings: Foursomes, toys, very mild bondage.
Midnight Duel
Part I – Single Combat
The bar was dark and pulsating with life, flashing lights playing on every surface. A bit to the side, away from the loudest bursts of music, a couple was sitting crammed into a small booth, working on their drinks with gloomy looks on their faces.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said. “I never imagined he’d do something so stupid.”
The girl opposite him shook her head a little and took another gulp from her glass, draining it. Putting it down on the table, she tapped the drink list with her wand, and the glass magically refilled itself.
“No, Harry,” she said, half-mournfully, half-sarcastically, “I’m the stupid one.”
“Hermione…”
“No, Harry, really. Don’t pretend you didn’t suspect it would come to this,” she stated, a hollow chuckle following her words. “You’d be the only one, that’s for sure.”
“I didn’t think it would come to this,” Harry said quietly. “I figured things would work out, that you’d be happy together.”
“Then you’re just as naïve as Kingsley said you were,” she snapped, draining yet another glass of wine. “People don’t marry their school sweethearts and live happily ever after. I should have known that. Heck, even my mother tried to warn me. I really thought you, of all people, would know this after—”
“Don’t, Hermione,” he said forcefully. “Don’t drag Ginny into this.” Hermione laughed, an empty, desperate laugh that sounded more like a sob to him.
“Look at us!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands wide and almost upturning her glass in the process. “The Saviour of the Wizarding World and his faithful companion—whom some have called the brightest witch of our age, by the way—alone in a bar on a Saturday night, drowning their sorrows over their pending divorces!”
“Hermione, calm down.”
“No!” she shouted. “I’m not going to be calm about this! Five years, Harry! Five years of my life spent trying to fit into that family, trying to be the kind of wife people expected me to be while struggling to get my career going. And then he just ups and leaves!”
“He didn’t just ‘up and leave,’ Hermione,” Harry protested. “The two of you’ve had problems for a long time.”
“So what?” Hermione yelled, almost standing up in her seat. Then, as quickly as it had flared, the anger seemed to burn out, and she slumped back down on the padded cushions. “He left, Harry,” she said quietly. “He left after promising to stand by my side until the end of his days, no matter what.”
He scooted over to her side of the booth, pulling her into his arms and drawing her close as she broke down against his shoulder. “I know, Hermione,” he whispered as he held her. “I know.”
She quieted against him and drew back, meeting his eyes. Something new was stirring in them, something he didn’t quite like the look of.
“Take me home, Harry,” she said, and he drew a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, sure thing. Just let me get the bill and—” She stopped him with a sudden hand on his cheek.
“No, Harry,” she whispered, stroking him across the cheek down to the line of his jaw, brushing over his lips briefly. “Take me home, home. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Hermione,” he tried, shock making him momentarily speechless. “You’re upset. And I couldn’t—”
“You couldn’t what, Harry?” she demanded. “Couldn’t do it to Ron? Or is it Ginny you’re worried about?” She let her hand trail along his arm, reaching his hand and sliding the golden wedding band from his fourth finger. As he looked on, she did the same with the rings on her left hand, holding them up in her palm before him. “They left us, Harry,” she stated bluntly, dropping the rings into a nearby ashtray without a second glance. “They left us and went on with their lives, and we have every right to do the same.” He let his eyes fall closed for a second, allowing the feel of Hermione’s light touch to flow through him. God, how long had it been since he’d been touched by another person, friendly hugs of comfort aside? Four months? Five? More? He looked at Hermione, seeing the same, burning loneliness in her eyes. A deep source of anger and resentment welled up inside him, directed at the man he’d called his best friend for most of his life and the woman he’d thought would stand by his side forever. Recklessness and bitterness mixed and washed over his mind like a wave, propelling him forward to grab the back of Hermione’s head and bring her lips to his in a rough kiss.
“Get your cloak. I’ll meet you at the door.”
***
“Fancy seeing you here.”
He spun around, hand going reflexively to the wand in his robes.
“Malfoy. I thought you were in France.”
The other man eyed him intently, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler softly as he leaned casually against the bar.
“Well, I’m not, as you can see. How have you been?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would you care? Last time we met, you tried to trap me in a room full of Fiendfyre.”
The corners of Malfoy’s mouth drew back into a small smile.
“Yeah, well, times change.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said angrily, turning to the bar to sign the receipt that was finally handed to him. When he spun around, he found himself just inches away from Malfoy’s beautifully tailored appearance, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet the grey eyes.
“It means, Potter,” Draco Malfoy said, leaning in close to his ear, “that if you need something more… challenging than your little Mudblood friend to work out your… aggressions, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Harry stared at him, dumbstruck.
“You want to fight me?” Malfoy’s mouth curled into a wide smile.
“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “A midnight duel, all stops pulled.” Harry glowered at him, feeling the adrenaline start to trickle through him at the challenge, making his breaths come slightly faster.
“You’re on,” he said quietly, voice low enough to be heard only by the man in front of him. “Name your time and place.” He broke the eye lock and pushed past the blond wizard, heading towards the exit. Just as he came out from under the other man’s presence, however, he turned around, catching Malfoy’s arm in a vice-like grip. “Oh, and one last thing: call Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ again and I will happily tear your arm off.” For some inexplicable reason, Malfoy’s smile seemed to widen even more at the threat.
“No problem, Potter,” he said, casually lifting his hand to draw it through his hair and effectively breaking Harry’s hold. “On second thought, why don’t you bring her along? Let’s start off with a nice dinner. No reason not to be polite.”
Harry stared at him as though he wondered if he had completely lost his mind and left the bar without further comment. Draco watched as his former enemy walked over to the exit, donning a cloak and putting his arm around the young woman next to him, pulling her with him into the night. Smile still firmly in place on his handsome face, he turned and walked over to a beautiful blonde sitting in a booth right next to the one the acclaimed heroes had just vacated.
“I have reason to believe we will have guests over for dinner quite soon,” he said happily, sliding in beside her on the leather seat.
“I guess I’d better finish the re-decorations on the house, then,” she replied serenely, meeting his gaze and adding a saucy smile.
“Oh, most definitely,” he confirmed, pulling her close against him.
***
Three weeks later, Harry and Hermione walked up the path to Malfoy Manor, hand in hand.
“I’m still not sure about this, Harry,” Hermione said anxiously as he reached out to ring the doorbell.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I can take Malfoy. I’m an Auror, remember?”
“Still…”
The door opened and cut off their argument. Draco Malfoy appeared, casually dressed in tailored robes of black silk, showing them inside.
“Good evening,” he said simply, motioning for a nearby elf to take their cloaks. “Welcome.”
They were shown into a majestic dining room, a table set for four dominating the space. A slender, blonde woman rose from an armchair by the nearby fireplace, coming to stand on Draco’s right side.
“May I present my wife, Celia Malfoy,” Draco said, putting his arm around her slim waist. “Celia, this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Celia said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand for Harry to bring to his lips. Rather slow on the uptake, Harry finally got his wits about him and placed a soft kiss on the smooth skin.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Draco said, a decided smirk on his face when looking between his wife and the shocked expressions his guests were sporting. Putting light pressure on Celia’s waist, he steered her towards the table, leaving Harry and Hermione to follow in their wake.
***
Dinner went along wonderfully. Draco admired his wife silently as she wound her magic around the other two, wrapping them in a perfect, invisible web of desire. Being married to a part-Veela, part-Siren definitely had its advantages: Potter was practically eating out of her hand as they reached the main course. He raised the crystal decanter and refilled the glasses with rich, slightly laced wine from his cellar. He didn’t think there was much risk of rejection with Celia at his aid, but it never hurt to take extra precautions. He kept the conversation going, working hard to put Potter at ease while still playing the animosity and distrust that lay thick between them, even after all this time. Potter seemed to have held on to his grudges of childhood rivalry. He found that he didn’t mind in the slightest—a little bit of hate would only add to the passion he could practically see stirring behind the impossibly green eyes. As dinner drew to a close, he stood from his chair and looked directly at the other man.
“Celia, love, perhaps you would show Hermione the rest of the house while I go through the terms of our arrangement with Potter?”
“Of course.” Celia stood and raised her arm in invitation, beckoning Hermione to follow her out of the room. The brunette hesitated, eyes fixed on Harry.
“I think I’ll stay here, actually,” she said, though he could hear the reluctance in her voice. “I promised I’d watch out for him.”
Draco did his best to hide his smile.
“Oh, we’re not instigating the duel,” he bit the inside of his cheek slightly to keep a straight face, “just yet. Go with Celia. We’ll be along in a minute. I promise you’ll get to watch.”
“Harry?”
“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said, a slightly dazed quality to his voice. “Go on, I can deal with Malfoy.”
“Alright, if you’re sure…” Turning her head to look back at them one last time, she took the arm Celia offered and let herself be swept from the room.
He watched the door close with a soft click and turned to face Potter.
“Give me your wand.”
“Not a chance, Malfoy.”
“You won’t be needing it, not for this.” Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Wandless magic? You want to fight me without a wand? Aren’t you afraid for your precious furniture?”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” Draco said, stepping closer with the tip of his wand between his fingers, holding the piece of wood out for Harry to take. “Unless you’re scared of losing control?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Not at all,” Harry replied, an almost predatory smile spreading on his face as he drew his own wand and offered it to his opponent. Draco took it and levitated both wands over to rest on top of the mantelpiece. When he looked back, Harry was flexing his hands subtly, tiny sparks of green and gold forming around his fingers.
“So,” he said softly, approaching by smooth, sure steps. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Very,” Harry replied, eyes locked to his as he walked steadily closer. “Just show me the way.”
He held out both of his hands in invitation, as though expecting Draco to lead him out of the room. When nothing happened, he lowered them again, eyes narrowing a second time.
“We’re not fighting in here, are we?” he said, taking in the many valuable and extremely fragile-looking objects adorning every surface.
“No,” Draco replied, following his gaze around the room. “But there are steps to observe before the actual event. Proper introductions.”
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. His only experience with formal duels had been back in their second year—a lifetime ago.
“You want me to bow to you?” he asked, incredulity evident in his voice. Draco’s face split into a wide grin, and he took yet another step closer, invading Harry’s personal space.
“Yes, Potter,” he said in little more than a whisper. “I’d very much want you to bow to me.”
Before Harry had time to process the words, Draco’s lips were on his, and he felt his back slam against a nearby bookshelf. Draco’s hands were in his hair, holding his head in a firm grip as he deepened the kiss, his hard body pushing him roughly into the rows of leather-bound tomes. Shock made his mind stumble, even as jolts of heat shot down his spine from the other man’s touch. Draco kissed him with burning hunger and relentless force, a kiss meant to dominate and control, forcing his attention away from rational thought to focus on the intense sensations conquering his body. His hands came up between them, pushing at Malfoy’s chest, breaking them apart.
“What the fuck are you doing!” he demanded angrily between panting breaths. Malfoy just chuckled.
“Catching on, are you? Took you a while.”
“All this—the duel—”
“Pretty innocent, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, back into Harry’s face. “Now, Potter, is that really the card you’re going to play?” Something stirred in the deep-green eyes before him, and a second later, he found their positions reversed, hard wood and leather behind his back as Harry attacked, taking full possession of his lips and body.
One hand wound itself into his hair, yanking away the ribbon that had held it in place, holding him still with an iron grip. The other stroked him roughly down his chest and over the tight stomach to his hip, squeezing the flesh in a near painful caress. He groaned against the exploring lips, kissing back with abandon and wrapping his arms tightly around Harry’s back, pulling his hips to collide hard with his, blood rising with the sensation of Harry’s erection sliding against his own. Harry drew in a sharp breath and thrust against him, causing them both to gasp. Moving his hips to reciprocate, Draco felt his momentum shift again, finding himself pressed tightly against the darker man’s chest, driving him relentlessly into the bookshelf.
“So not so innocent after all?” he commented wryly between kisses, coming up for air.
“Hardly,” Harry rasped, pulling him down for another bruising kiss before breaking off to lock his eyes firmly to his. “Now bow to me.”
Chuckling softly, Draco fell to his knees, lifting material as he went, helping Harry to pull the robes over his head. He worked his way down quickly, lips having to give way for teeth as he hurried towards his destination. Grabbing hold of the elastic, he roughly tore the remaining piece of fabric down and wrapped his hand around Harry’s hard cock, stroking it firmly.
“God, yes.”
He heard Harry moan the words somewhere above his head and felt his hands, those incredible, strong hands, push their way back into his hair, guiding him closer. Without a moment’s hesitation, he moved his hand to Harry’s hip and took the hard flesh into his mouth.
“Fuck!”
He sucked hard and fast, going deeper with every move, going for dominance, dragging the pleasure from the other man as he tried to hold back, to keep control, moans and gasps falling from his lips amidst a steady stream of obscenities. Apparently, the acclaimed hero of the Wizarding World liked to talk. He moved a hand to Harry’s balls, caressing and squeezing softly while the other went to his mouth, joining his lips and tongue hard at work until they were slick and wet and ready. Keeping up the relentless rhythm with his mouth, he moved his fingers back, stroking the skin behind the heavy balls and penetrating Harry’s ass in one, swift movement. Harry screamed, and he began to pump his fingers in sync with his mouth, feeling the smooth skin with his tongue as he took him in deeper, moaning around the hard length penetrating his throat to add further stimulus.
“Fuck, Draco, slow down,” Harry panted from above, hands fisted so tightly in his hair, it was almost painful. “I can’t hold on. I—” He ignored the plea, going faster, noting how Harry’s cock seemed to grow even larger in his mouth. Closing his eyes in concentration, he curled his fingers to rub the area sure to rob his partner of the last of his control with smooth deliberation.
“Oh, God!”
He withdrew the hand on Harry’s balls as he felt them draw up, stroking instead the skin on his inner thighs in soothing, circular motions as Harry came hard, shooting off into his mouth in sync with his continued ministrations. He swallowed and kept going, letting his lips and tongue slide reverently over the over-sensitised skin, carefully enough to avoid real pain but hard enough to make Harry cry out and for his hands and legs to tremble. He went on until he heard Harry’s breathing slow down and felt his cock soften. Pressing a last kiss on the soft skin near the base, he withdrew and got to his feet, adding a strong arm around the other man’s back to compensate for the tremors in his legs. Harry’s eyes were closed, head leaned back against the rows of books, mouth half-open and drawing deep breaths of air into his lungs. Leaning forward, he inserted his left hand between the dark hair and the bookcase, bringing his lips down in an almost-gentle kiss.
“Christ, Draco,” Harry groaned, moving with him to return the embrace. “I think my bones just melted.” He chuckled in reply, breaking the kiss and taking a step back.
“One of my many talents,” he said, voice full of arrogant promise. “Shall we continue this somewhere more comfortable, perhaps?” A slow, suggestive grin spread across Harry’s face, causing a shiver of arousal to run through him.
“Oh, most definitely.”
Nodding in confirmation, he pulled Harry back into his arms and turned on the spot. He knew that things were going perfectly according to plan when they came out of spinning and he heard Harry choke on his breath. Turning his head towards the large bed in the middle of the room, he smiled as he took in Hermione’s naked form, spread wide on top of the silk sheets with both hands tied with delicate, golden sashes to the wooden headboard. He watched hungrily as the blonde head of his beautiful wife moved teasingly across her skin, trailing downwards with perfect, sensual movements. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked up, meeting his eyes briefly and raising an eyebrow in a mixture of invitation and challenge as the tip of her tongue came out to draw a torturously slow circle around the other girl’s left nipple. Chuckling darkly into Harry’s ear, he pulled the other man’s back tightly against his chest, turning both of them slightly to further improve their range of vision. Perfect.
Part II - Battle
A/N: This became a lot longer than expected, so I’m splitting it into two parts. Coming up: Hermione’s side of the story (i.e. more smut) and lovely foursome goodies (i.e. yet more smut :-)). Stay tuned. Also, please review and tell me how I’m doing so far. The last ‘cock’ was written with next to no blushing. Making progress… :-D
Title: Midnight Duel
Chapter: 1(2) - Single combat
Summary: Harry and Draco work out their agressions. Hermione helps. Oh, and Draco's wife too. (Post-Hogwarts, somewhere between EWE and canon.)
Pairing: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger
Rating: NC-17 (very much so)
Warnings: Foursomes, toys, very mild bondage.
Midnight Duel
Part I – Single Combat
The bar was dark and pulsating with life, flashing lights playing on every surface. A bit to the side, away from the loudest bursts of music, a couple was sitting crammed into a small booth, working on their drinks with gloomy looks on their faces.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said. “I never imagined he’d do something so stupid.”
The girl opposite him shook her head a little and took another gulp from her glass, draining it. Putting it down on the table, she tapped the drink list with her wand, and the glass magically refilled itself.
“No, Harry,” she said, half-mournfully, half-sarcastically, “I’m the stupid one.”
“Hermione…”
“No, Harry, really. Don’t pretend you didn’t suspect it would come to this,” she stated, a hollow chuckle following her words. “You’d be the only one, that’s for sure.”
“I didn’t think it would come to this,” Harry said quietly. “I figured things would work out, that you’d be happy together.”
“Then you’re just as naïve as Kingsley said you were,” she snapped, draining yet another glass of wine. “People don’t marry their school sweethearts and live happily ever after. I should have known that. Heck, even my mother tried to warn me. I really thought you, of all people, would know this after—”
“Don’t, Hermione,” he said forcefully. “Don’t drag Ginny into this.” Hermione laughed, an empty, desperate laugh that sounded more like a sob to him.
“Look at us!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands wide and almost upturning her glass in the process. “The Saviour of the Wizarding World and his faithful companion—whom some have called the brightest witch of our age, by the way—alone in a bar on a Saturday night, drowning their sorrows over their pending divorces!”
“Hermione, calm down.”
“No!” she shouted. “I’m not going to be calm about this! Five years, Harry! Five years of my life spent trying to fit into that family, trying to be the kind of wife people expected me to be while struggling to get my career going. And then he just ups and leaves!”
“He didn’t just ‘up and leave,’ Hermione,” Harry protested. “The two of you’ve had problems for a long time.”
“So what?” Hermione yelled, almost standing up in her seat. Then, as quickly as it had flared, the anger seemed to burn out, and she slumped back down on the padded cushions. “He left, Harry,” she said quietly. “He left after promising to stand by my side until the end of his days, no matter what.”
He scooted over to her side of the booth, pulling her into his arms and drawing her close as she broke down against his shoulder. “I know, Hermione,” he whispered as he held her. “I know.”
She quieted against him and drew back, meeting his eyes. Something new was stirring in them, something he didn’t quite like the look of.
“Take me home, Harry,” she said, and he drew a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, sure thing. Just let me get the bill and—” She stopped him with a sudden hand on his cheek.
“No, Harry,” she whispered, stroking him across the cheek down to the line of his jaw, brushing over his lips briefly. “Take me home, home. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Hermione,” he tried, shock making him momentarily speechless. “You’re upset. And I couldn’t—”
“You couldn’t what, Harry?” she demanded. “Couldn’t do it to Ron? Or is it Ginny you’re worried about?” She let her hand trail along his arm, reaching his hand and sliding the golden wedding band from his fourth finger. As he looked on, she did the same with the rings on her left hand, holding them up in her palm before him. “They left us, Harry,” she stated bluntly, dropping the rings into a nearby ashtray without a second glance. “They left us and went on with their lives, and we have every right to do the same.” He let his eyes fall closed for a second, allowing the feel of Hermione’s light touch to flow through him. God, how long had it been since he’d been touched by another person, friendly hugs of comfort aside? Four months? Five? More? He looked at Hermione, seeing the same, burning loneliness in her eyes. A deep source of anger and resentment welled up inside him, directed at the man he’d called his best friend for most of his life and the woman he’d thought would stand by his side forever. Recklessness and bitterness mixed and washed over his mind like a wave, propelling him forward to grab the back of Hermione’s head and bring her lips to his in a rough kiss.
“Get your cloak. I’ll meet you at the door.”
***
“Fancy seeing you here.”
He spun around, hand going reflexively to the wand in his robes.
“Malfoy. I thought you were in France.”
The other man eyed him intently, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler softly as he leaned casually against the bar.
“Well, I’m not, as you can see. How have you been?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would you care? Last time we met, you tried to trap me in a room full of Fiendfyre.”
The corners of Malfoy’s mouth drew back into a small smile.
“Yeah, well, times change.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said angrily, turning to the bar to sign the receipt that was finally handed to him. When he spun around, he found himself just inches away from Malfoy’s beautifully tailored appearance, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet the grey eyes.
“It means, Potter,” Draco Malfoy said, leaning in close to his ear, “that if you need something more… challenging than your little Mudblood friend to work out your… aggressions, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Harry stared at him, dumbstruck.
“You want to fight me?” Malfoy’s mouth curled into a wide smile.
“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “A midnight duel, all stops pulled.” Harry glowered at him, feeling the adrenaline start to trickle through him at the challenge, making his breaths come slightly faster.
“You’re on,” he said quietly, voice low enough to be heard only by the man in front of him. “Name your time and place.” He broke the eye lock and pushed past the blond wizard, heading towards the exit. Just as he came out from under the other man’s presence, however, he turned around, catching Malfoy’s arm in a vice-like grip. “Oh, and one last thing: call Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ again and I will happily tear your arm off.” For some inexplicable reason, Malfoy’s smile seemed to widen even more at the threat.
“No problem, Potter,” he said, casually lifting his hand to draw it through his hair and effectively breaking Harry’s hold. “On second thought, why don’t you bring her along? Let’s start off with a nice dinner. No reason not to be polite.”
Harry stared at him as though he wondered if he had completely lost his mind and left the bar without further comment. Draco watched as his former enemy walked over to the exit, donning a cloak and putting his arm around the young woman next to him, pulling her with him into the night. Smile still firmly in place on his handsome face, he turned and walked over to a beautiful blonde sitting in a booth right next to the one the acclaimed heroes had just vacated.
“I have reason to believe we will have guests over for dinner quite soon,” he said happily, sliding in beside her on the leather seat.
“I guess I’d better finish the re-decorations on the house, then,” she replied serenely, meeting his gaze and adding a saucy smile.
“Oh, most definitely,” he confirmed, pulling her close against him.
***
Three weeks later, Harry and Hermione walked up the path to Malfoy Manor, hand in hand.
“I’m still not sure about this, Harry,” Hermione said anxiously as he reached out to ring the doorbell.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I can take Malfoy. I’m an Auror, remember?”
“Still…”
The door opened and cut off their argument. Draco Malfoy appeared, casually dressed in tailored robes of black silk, showing them inside.
“Good evening,” he said simply, motioning for a nearby elf to take their cloaks. “Welcome.”
They were shown into a majestic dining room, a table set for four dominating the space. A slender, blonde woman rose from an armchair by the nearby fireplace, coming to stand on Draco’s right side.
“May I present my wife, Celia Malfoy,” Draco said, putting his arm around her slim waist. “Celia, this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Celia said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand for Harry to bring to his lips. Rather slow on the uptake, Harry finally got his wits about him and placed a soft kiss on the smooth skin.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Draco said, a decided smirk on his face when looking between his wife and the shocked expressions his guests were sporting. Putting light pressure on Celia’s waist, he steered her towards the table, leaving Harry and Hermione to follow in their wake.
***
Dinner went along wonderfully. Draco admired his wife silently as she wound her magic around the other two, wrapping them in a perfect, invisible web of desire. Being married to a part-Veela, part-Siren definitely had its advantages: Potter was practically eating out of her hand as they reached the main course. He raised the crystal decanter and refilled the glasses with rich, slightly laced wine from his cellar. He didn’t think there was much risk of rejection with Celia at his aid, but it never hurt to take extra precautions. He kept the conversation going, working hard to put Potter at ease while still playing the animosity and distrust that lay thick between them, even after all this time. Potter seemed to have held on to his grudges of childhood rivalry. He found that he didn’t mind in the slightest—a little bit of hate would only add to the passion he could practically see stirring behind the impossibly green eyes. As dinner drew to a close, he stood from his chair and looked directly at the other man.
“Celia, love, perhaps you would show Hermione the rest of the house while I go through the terms of our arrangement with Potter?”
“Of course.” Celia stood and raised her arm in invitation, beckoning Hermione to follow her out of the room. The brunette hesitated, eyes fixed on Harry.
“I think I’ll stay here, actually,” she said, though he could hear the reluctance in her voice. “I promised I’d watch out for him.”
Draco did his best to hide his smile.
“Oh, we’re not instigating the duel,” he bit the inside of his cheek slightly to keep a straight face, “just yet. Go with Celia. We’ll be along in a minute. I promise you’ll get to watch.”
“Harry?”
“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said, a slightly dazed quality to his voice. “Go on, I can deal with Malfoy.”
“Alright, if you’re sure…” Turning her head to look back at them one last time, she took the arm Celia offered and let herself be swept from the room.
He watched the door close with a soft click and turned to face Potter.
“Give me your wand.”
“Not a chance, Malfoy.”
“You won’t be needing it, not for this.” Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Wandless magic? You want to fight me without a wand? Aren’t you afraid for your precious furniture?”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” Draco said, stepping closer with the tip of his wand between his fingers, holding the piece of wood out for Harry to take. “Unless you’re scared of losing control?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Not at all,” Harry replied, an almost predatory smile spreading on his face as he drew his own wand and offered it to his opponent. Draco took it and levitated both wands over to rest on top of the mantelpiece. When he looked back, Harry was flexing his hands subtly, tiny sparks of green and gold forming around his fingers.
“So,” he said softly, approaching by smooth, sure steps. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Very,” Harry replied, eyes locked to his as he walked steadily closer. “Just show me the way.”
He held out both of his hands in invitation, as though expecting Draco to lead him out of the room. When nothing happened, he lowered them again, eyes narrowing a second time.
“We’re not fighting in here, are we?” he said, taking in the many valuable and extremely fragile-looking objects adorning every surface.
“No,” Draco replied, following his gaze around the room. “But there are steps to observe before the actual event. Proper introductions.”
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. His only experience with formal duels had been back in their second year—a lifetime ago.
“You want me to bow to you?” he asked, incredulity evident in his voice. Draco’s face split into a wide grin, and he took yet another step closer, invading Harry’s personal space.
“Yes, Potter,” he said in little more than a whisper. “I’d very much want you to bow to me.”
Before Harry had time to process the words, Draco’s lips were on his, and he felt his back slam against a nearby bookshelf. Draco’s hands were in his hair, holding his head in a firm grip as he deepened the kiss, his hard body pushing him roughly into the rows of leather-bound tomes. Shock made his mind stumble, even as jolts of heat shot down his spine from the other man’s touch. Draco kissed him with burning hunger and relentless force, a kiss meant to dominate and control, forcing his attention away from rational thought to focus on the intense sensations conquering his body. His hands came up between them, pushing at Malfoy’s chest, breaking them apart.
“What the fuck are you doing!” he demanded angrily between panting breaths. Malfoy just chuckled.
“Catching on, are you? Took you a while.”
“All this—the duel—”
“Pretty innocent, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, back into Harry’s face. “Now, Potter, is that really the card you’re going to play?” Something stirred in the deep-green eyes before him, and a second later, he found their positions reversed, hard wood and leather behind his back as Harry attacked, taking full possession of his lips and body.
One hand wound itself into his hair, yanking away the ribbon that had held it in place, holding him still with an iron grip. The other stroked him roughly down his chest and over the tight stomach to his hip, squeezing the flesh in a near painful caress. He groaned against the exploring lips, kissing back with abandon and wrapping his arms tightly around Harry’s back, pulling his hips to collide hard with his, blood rising with the sensation of Harry’s erection sliding against his own. Harry drew in a sharp breath and thrust against him, causing them both to gasp. Moving his hips to reciprocate, Draco felt his momentum shift again, finding himself pressed tightly against the darker man’s chest, driving him relentlessly into the bookshelf.
“So not so innocent after all?” he commented wryly between kisses, coming up for air.
“Hardly,” Harry rasped, pulling him down for another bruising kiss before breaking off to lock his eyes firmly to his. “Now bow to me.”
Chuckling softly, Draco fell to his knees, lifting material as he went, helping Harry to pull the robes over his head. He worked his way down quickly, lips having to give way for teeth as he hurried towards his destination. Grabbing hold of the elastic, he roughly tore the remaining piece of fabric down and wrapped his hand around Harry’s hard cock, stroking it firmly.
“God, yes.”
He heard Harry moan the words somewhere above his head and felt his hands, those incredible, strong hands, push their way back into his hair, guiding him closer. Without a moment’s hesitation, he moved his hand to Harry’s hip and took the hard flesh into his mouth.
“Fuck!”
He sucked hard and fast, going deeper with every move, going for dominance, dragging the pleasure from the other man as he tried to hold back, to keep control, moans and gasps falling from his lips amidst a steady stream of obscenities. Apparently, the acclaimed hero of the Wizarding World liked to talk. He moved a hand to Harry’s balls, caressing and squeezing softly while the other went to his mouth, joining his lips and tongue hard at work until they were slick and wet and ready. Keeping up the relentless rhythm with his mouth, he moved his fingers back, stroking the skin behind the heavy balls and penetrating Harry’s ass in one, swift movement. Harry screamed, and he began to pump his fingers in sync with his mouth, feeling the smooth skin with his tongue as he took him in deeper, moaning around the hard length penetrating his throat to add further stimulus.
“Fuck, Draco, slow down,” Harry panted from above, hands fisted so tightly in his hair, it was almost painful. “I can’t hold on. I—” He ignored the plea, going faster, noting how Harry’s cock seemed to grow even larger in his mouth. Closing his eyes in concentration, he curled his fingers to rub the area sure to rob his partner of the last of his control with smooth deliberation.
“Oh, God!”
He withdrew the hand on Harry’s balls as he felt them draw up, stroking instead the skin on his inner thighs in soothing, circular motions as Harry came hard, shooting off into his mouth in sync with his continued ministrations. He swallowed and kept going, letting his lips and tongue slide reverently over the over-sensitised skin, carefully enough to avoid real pain but hard enough to make Harry cry out and for his hands and legs to tremble. He went on until he heard Harry’s breathing slow down and felt his cock soften. Pressing a last kiss on the soft skin near the base, he withdrew and got to his feet, adding a strong arm around the other man’s back to compensate for the tremors in his legs. Harry’s eyes were closed, head leaned back against the rows of books, mouth half-open and drawing deep breaths of air into his lungs. Leaning forward, he inserted his left hand between the dark hair and the bookcase, bringing his lips down in an almost-gentle kiss.
“Christ, Draco,” Harry groaned, moving with him to return the embrace. “I think my bones just melted.” He chuckled in reply, breaking the kiss and taking a step back.
“One of my many talents,” he said, voice full of arrogant promise. “Shall we continue this somewhere more comfortable, perhaps?” A slow, suggestive grin spread across Harry’s face, causing a shiver of arousal to run through him.
“Oh, most definitely.”
Nodding in confirmation, he pulled Harry back into his arms and turned on the spot. He knew that things were going perfectly according to plan when they came out of spinning and he heard Harry choke on his breath. Turning his head towards the large bed in the middle of the room, he smiled as he took in Hermione’s naked form, spread wide on top of the silk sheets with both hands tied with delicate, golden sashes to the wooden headboard. He watched hungrily as the blonde head of his beautiful wife moved teasingly across her skin, trailing downwards with perfect, sensual movements. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked up, meeting his eyes briefly and raising an eyebrow in a mixture of invitation and challenge as the tip of her tongue came out to draw a torturously slow circle around the other girl’s left nipple. Chuckling darkly into Harry’s ear, he pulled the other man’s back tightly against his chest, turning both of them slightly to further improve their range of vision. Perfect.
Part II - Battle
A/N: This became a lot longer than expected, so I’m splitting it into two parts. Coming up: Hermione’s side of the story (i.e. more smut) and lovely foursome goodies (i.e. yet more smut :-)). Stay tuned. Also, please review and tell me how I’m doing so far. The last ‘cock’ was written with next to no blushing. Making progress… :-D
