Title: Blackmail Sherbet
Author: Aja and Maya
Rating: Hard R - NC-17
Summary: Take that, wanton confectionary.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: This is a roleplay done for the Armchair chat on the occasion of its first birthday, June 1, 2003. The Armchair chatters provided this scenario, and the brilliant Verdant provided the twist.

---

Harry is waiting in the Transfiguration classroom for Draco. He is early. Only one candle is glowing in a corner, and he is sitting on top of a desk in the middle of the room with his hands propped up on his knees. There is the soft sound of a door opening, and Draco warily enters. Harry doesn't look up--he knows who it is. He is pensive, and it shows on his face, which is furrowed at the brow.

'Potter. I'm still wondering why I decided to show up.'

'Maybe because you're smart. And deep down you know you didn't have a choice.'

'There's always a choice, Potter. If you're willing to make the immoral ones. And coming to a deserted classroom at the bidding of a cryptic owl strikes you as intelligent? God, your marks are starting to make more and more sense.'

'You know, it's funny hearing you talk about immoral choices and cryptic owls. It seems like somebody as sharp as you are would be a little more careful about who he tries to contact, and how. How smart is it to have your father send you codes here at the school, Malfoy?'

'W-what are you-? How *dare* you read my personal letters, Potter?!'

Harry finally looks up, slides off the desk, and comes to stand to where Malfoy is. He holds out his hand and in it there's a folded piece of parchment. 'I didn't read this one. You see, my owl, Hedwig, is trained to intercept messages that come bearing a certain scent. You can't smell it but there's an ochre pigment in Voldemort's parchment. I've been delivering mail to Dumbledore for a while now. This one, however--' Harry holds up the parchment, just out of Draco's grasp--'He doesn't know about. Not yet.'

'Oh, and you're saying - what? Because my father and I happen to shop at the same book and parchment store as the Dark Lord? It's hardly a dire crime. Now give me back my letter.'

'It's hardly a dire crime, true. Unless your father has been out of the country for three weeks, and yet is somehow sending you letters from a resort in Brighton. I'm not crazy, Malfoy. Whoever's in Brighton isn't Lucius Malfoy. What would taking this to Dumbledore cost you? Expulsion? Azkaban?' Harry's eyes glitter.

'It could be my steamy hot Muggle girlfriend who uses the parchment I bought her as a gift. Let's face it, Potter, if you were so convinced this could expel me - we both know that you'd be jumping into Dumbledore's lap with it like the faithful retriever you are.'

Harry smiles triumphantly, and leans in to murmur in Draco's ear. 'Your steamy hot girlfriend has his parchment specially made in order to ward off detection charms, Malfoy. There's only one person this could have come from. Draco Malfoy. In bed with Voldemort. What a cute couple you make.'

Draco's smile falters. 'Anyone can have anything manufactured, Potter. The joys of capitalism are free to all who - well, pay for it. And again, I say - if you really thought it was the Dark Lord - you'd have told Dumbledore by now.'

'And if you really thought you were in no danger, you wouldn't be here now.' Harry's smile grows, and he puts a hand over Draco's arm. 'Would you?'

Draco moves back sharply. 'Don't touch me, Potter. Perhaps I simply came out of morbid curiosity. It's a failing. And it's all but satisfied now, so if you want me to stay, why don't you explain why this letter isn't in Dumbledore's hands and Make. It. Worth. My. While.'

Harry steps in closer, not letting him back away. "Listen to me, Very. Carefully. Malfoy, you don't have an inch to bargain with, so unless you have one good reason why you think I should let you walk out of here without exposing you, then--" he draws a sharp breath-- "if I want to touch you, I'll touch you all I want." He slides his hand up to Draco's shoulder and grips it, hard. "Got it?"

Draco looks, for a long moment, at Harry's hand on his shoulder. 'Well now,' he says smoothly. 'Why don't we pretend that your idle little fantasy is in fact the truth? I'll play along for a while, Potter. Everybody loves to play - so while you're playing butch, why don't you tell me my role?'

Harry looks, for a long time, at Draco's expression, and almost imperceptibly represses what is either a shudder or a shiver. After a thick moment he slides his hand up to the crook of Malfoy's neck, lightly wrapping around Malfoy's neck, and lets his thumb move gently over the soft flesh in the hollow of Malfoy's throat. "Well, Malfoy, I'm sure you're very flexible. I'm sure we can work out something we both would like to... play."

'Oooh, Potter. You shock my maiden senses with your naughty, naughty throat touching. Now, I know you Gryffindors like to communicate with sign language but we higher life forms have found words actually quite effective. So in words of one syllable, what do you want?'

Harry swallows and his expression hardens, and impulsively his grip around Draco's neck has tightened to a vice. He holds the parchment up in front of Draco and says roughly, 'What would you be willing to do to keep me from opening this right now, you sick bastard? Would you beg for it?'

Draco lowers his voice. 'Potter, this is a night of surprises. Would you like to hear me beg?'

Harry's eyes widen but then his resolve hardens, and with the hand clenched around Draco's throat, he pushes Malfoy up against the wall. 'Even better, Malfoy. I'd love to hear you scream. What would it take to make you, I wonder?' He slides his hand up to Draco's hair, and wrenches his fingers in it. 'How many screams could get you out of a dementor's kiss?'

'Potter!' Draco says sharply. 'For all I know you're threateningly waving around a love letter of Ginny Weasley's. While the thought induces nausea, I'm not quite ready to shriek. Also, please mind the hair!'

Harry grins in vicious satisfaction and chuckles, 'Actually, I think I will mind.' He finds it easier than he ever expected to pin Draco in place with his hips and press against him, chest to chest. He slides the letter inside his robes, and whispers. 'I think you want me to.'

'Ah - yes, Potter,' Draco replies, squirming away just a little breathlessly. 'I said that. I want you to mind my hair. Really, Potter, I had no idea you actively swung this way. I thought a brief glance during the Quidditch showers was all Gryffindors were allowed before they were legally obliged to marry. Kudos for your nerve, Potter, and in essence...' He slowly licks his lips, dragging his tongue from edge to edge. 'You're saying that you'd like to blackmail me into becoming your whore. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - right into the gutter.'

'Well,' responds Harry shakily, trying not to stammer. 'I don't know if I've fallen all that far. I--that is to say, I--I don't know if I want you to be my whore. Not until I've had you.' He shivers at his own words. 'I will, you know.' He stares at Draco's lips.

'Potter. I know it's.... hard for you to run with the big boys, but do try to keep up. Any - having of me? Involves me being your whore.' Draco shoves up against Harry, forcing one leg between Harry's with a slow smile. 'Might as well have the name as the game.'

Harry's knees are suddenly dreadfully unsturdy, and he leans into Draco for involuntary support. 'Semantics, Malfoy. If I only have you once, that doesn't make you my whore. It just makes you a waste of my time.' He exhales along Draco's collarbone.

Draco pulls Harry's head back by the hair in order to lean forward and hiss in Harry's ear. 'Payment for services rendered equals whore, Potter. And I assure you - I'm never a waste of anyone's time.' He licks Harry, a long lingering swipe up his neck to just under his ear, and leans back slightly.

Harry sinks his teeth into his own lip at the contact, and bites down very hard, squeezing his eyes shut. 'I... Malfoy...' He pulls away as Draco leans back and studies him, then finally says harshly, 'Give me any other reason why I shouldn't expose you. Just one.'

'I wasn't aware you were interested in any other reason, Potter. You really did seem... intent on just that one... single... point. You mean I get to choose what's extorted from me? That gives me all kinds of tingles. You know. The happy kind.' Draco is whispering in Harry's ear again, deliberately letting the tongue flick out and brush his skin. He leans back again and says briskly, 'Would you like money?'

Harry's breathing is coming faster now, his heart pounding against Draco's chest, and he stutters, 'I--be careful, Malfoy. With what i have on you, I could make you pay to fuck me.' He grips Draco's sides and returns the favor, pulling him against him as his tongue just barely flicks over the edge of Draco's ear. 'For all I know, you'd like that best of all.'

'Pulling off the double, Potter?' Draco asks lazily, just a hint of a shiver in his voice. 'Under every righteous missionary position Gryffindor is a nymphomaniac wannabe whore just screaming orgasmically to be let out. You've made it quite clear that what I like isn't really the issue here, haven't you? It's what you like. So tell me, Potter...' He shoves him back, and then wrenches his shirt over his head and stands back with his eyes glittering and a slow flush creeping up his chest. 'Do you like what you see?'

'Oh, god, Malfoy,' leaves Harry's lips before he can help himself, before he is even aware of it. He is past the point of rational thought now. Instead of responding he summarily pulls off his robe and drapes it over the table, eyes never leaving Draco's, and slowly undoes his tie and unbuttons his shirt, leaving them both hanging loose. He stares at Draco with his eyes blazing and hard with lust.

'I don't insist on being addressed as a deity, Potter. Though it's nice,' Draco says breathlessly. He pushes Harry agains the desk, slides one hand into his open shirt and along his chest and slides his tongue in Harry's mouth, licking the soft inside of his lip.

Harry lets out an 'mmph' or maybe a 'guh' or whatever it is, it's trapped inside Draco's mouth, and his hands are all over Draco. He pulls Draco against him, hard, tongue meeting tongue, fingernails digging possessively into Draco's flesh.

Draco threads his fingers through Harry's hair, tilting his head back, tasting and letting air slip cool into both their mouths while trailing his tongue up the roof of Harry's mouth and then sharply pushing his body right into Harry's. Breathing hard, he says, 'Mmm. Just once, and then we're even.'

Harry gasps and wrenches their lips back together again, not willing to let the taste of him go even for a second, and angles himself up off the table, cock hard and aligned against Draco's. 'No,' he mutters fiercely against Draco's mouth. 'We may be even, but I can still take you for all you're worth. If not this way--then some other way. Don't think I won't.' He twists Draco's fingers out of his hair and uses his leverage to reverse their positions, pinning Draco against the desk and greedily devouring his throat.

Draco laughs breathlessly, bucking up slightly against Harry. 'Is that right?' he murmured. 'You'll go to Dumbledore and say I, your golden boy, saviour of the wizarding world, discovered the nefarious spy but stopped for a quick shag first?' He loops an arm around Harry's neck and begins to rub, slowly. 'Oh no, Potter,' he whispers. 'Once this is done, you're done too. Thou shalt not touch pitch and not be made a very, very dirty boy indeed.'

Harry moves his arm around Draco and runs a hand smoothly over Draco's back, rubbing just as smoothly, working his way slowly down Draco's body, licking, nipping, kissing. 'They'd never believe you over me. Not for a second. Not with what I can get on you. And I know you know it.' His voice drops to a purr. 'Your innocence is touching, but you're not fooling anyone.'

Draco slides his hand down Harry's trousers, inch by inch. He licks his way up Harry's neck, and then whispers hotly in his ear. 'Pensieves,' he said. 'Physical evidence can be reserved. End result - shame, ignominy, disgrace... Don't pretend you're not the innocent little boy about to play dirty.' He reaches in and squeezes. 'But carry on pretending to be masterful,' he whispers. 'It's funny. And also, a turn-on.'

Harry hisses loudly, a long incoherent sound. Yanking Draco's head up, he kisses him, open-mouthed and hard, and pushes Draco down against the tabletop, angling his cock against Draco's hand. 'Fine,' he says angrily, when he finally releases Draco's lips, his hips grinding steadily downwards. 'But this is my show. No matter what else you think, Malfoy. You'll always remember this. That would be worth ten pensieves to me. And whether you like it or not this time I'm going to be the one enjoying myself at your expense.' He kisses him again.

Draco cups his free hand around Harry's neck. 'We already established that this was about what you wanted,' he said slowly as a promise. 'So admirable, Potter. And we've already established that you want... this.' He closes his mouth over Harry's, slick and open, just as he closes his hand around Harry, makes a muffled sound against his lips and pushes their hips together so hard it hurts.

Harry groans into the kiss and does the same thing, sliding one hand behind Draco's head and the other down into the top of Draco's trousers, fingers grazing his hip. He scrabbles for friction and murmurs weakly, 'And you--you want it too,' before resuming the kiss and not letting go of it.

'You want consent?' Draco demands softly. 'Try Ginny Weasley. Flowers. A ring. Not blackmail. You want... someone who plays well?' Draco pauses just a second to lean down, bite savagely on Harry's nipple, smile and return to stroking harder. 'Try me.'

Harry looks down at him as he says all this, eyes wide with a thousand emotions. But as Draco leans in to sink his teeth into skin, his own shuddered gasp of pleasure changes his eyes from bright to dark, and he pulls away from Draco long enough to pull down his trousers, glaring at Draco the entire time. He pulls down his pants, leaving his cock erect and glistening, and whispers fiercely, "You want to play? Let's play, Malfoy. I want you on your knees and I want you to suck it."

Draco jerks his chin up, startled and young for half a second. Then he blinks, murmurs, 'Your desires command my extorted obedience. Golden Boy,' and sliding his palms down naked hips, he slides to his knees.

'And I want you to look at me,' says Harry in a tight voice, still angry and hard, as he backs to the table and leans heavily against it.

'Demands, demands,' Draco said in a sing-song voice which seemed singularly inappropriate for a man on his knees. 'I'm kind of busy here. If you hadn't noticed,' he adds, leaning in, licking a long swipe downwards and tilting his head to keep a dark, intent gaze on Harry all the while.

Harry lowers his head and doesn't bother meeting Draco's eyes. He is intent on watching the slow pink swirl of Draco's tongue around him. 'Malfoy,' he breathes, and then, shuddering, leans back and throws back his head, eyes shut and moaning softly as Draco goes to work.

Draco still watches. He licks, pauses, teases, and keeps watching for every shudder and every exclamation, perfectly remembered for a pensieve or a pornographic fantasy, until every muscle in Harry's body is strained and shaking and then Draco begins to suck. Unbeknownst to Harry, his own fingers have come up to tangle loosely in Draco's hair, one of his thumbs brushing the side of Draco's cheek, his entire body taut and arching off the desk. He curses under his breath and says Malfoy's name, and shifts, letting Draco take the length of him inside his warm, hot mouth. He drives his hips forward, knowing he should care about choking Draco, but not caring all that much anyway, because this is his only chance and dragging it out will only make him look sentimental. Draco's hands press in hard against Harry's hips, hard enough to bruise, so hard it has to be hurting, and Harry's moaning so loud that Oh God Filch might come but Harry's moaning so loud and Draco can't seem to stop.

The flash of understanding hits Harry right before it happens that getting to come in Draco Malfoy's mouth might just be the single biggest thing that's ever happened to him, and the rush fills him and causes him to buck his hips and climax, so hard his hips nearly throw Draco off his balance. His eyes are squeezed shut and his head is tossed back, and it's only after he's come down from the edge again that he hears the echoes of his own loud cries in his head, and realizes that both his hands are clenched in Draco's hair, hanging on for dear life.

Draco swallows deep and then pants hard, leaning back and wiping off his mouth with the back of one rough hand. He stares up at Harry, sweat glistening on his shoulders and resentful stare complete with dilated pupils, and says, 'Well, Potter. You're all done.' Harry stares at Draco in a daze, eyes clouded over with lust and euphoria, and then, without a word, moves to lift Draco to his feet, suddenly, stupidly, and blindly kissing him deeply.

Draco kisses back, chests sweaty and sliding against each other like their tongues, desperate and just a little bit sweet in the most twisted way imaginable. He's breathing too hard and he can't think properly but if he could think, he knows, he's sure, something... he'd be able to think. That's for sure.

Harry can taste himself on Draco's tongue, and he can't help but like the taste of it, and it reminds him that he shouldn't feel nearly this happy right now. His knees give out as he stands, and he winds up falling into Draco, wrapping his arms around him, and surely they had been this close before--only it hadn't felt this, well, close.

Harry's the one who got off and thus he is legally obligated to be the one who can think and walk away, but he isn't and that is so like him because he's stubborn and stupid and hot, and on top of Draco in a heap of sweaty writhing enthusiastic flesh. And it's not Draco's fault, Goddamnit! he thinks as he slides his hands greedily up Harry's chest and feels him writhe some more.

Harry is scrabbling for purchase against Draco's skin, hands roaming over his skin like it's his own little newly staked island of flesh, and he has just realised that he can't quite get to the good parts because there are clothes in the way. The denim is hot and sticky as he slides it down over Draco's thighs, and it makes him shiver. He mumbles, 'Your turn,' into Draco's kiss, and leans back against the table, pulling Draco on top of him, down and hard and close.

Thought finally pierces through. 'Wait,' Draco says. 'What?' Draco says. Just to make things perfectly clear, 'Why?' Draco says. Even though Harry is so, so close and warm.... 'Sorry, isn't the whole point of blackmail and coercion that it's all your turn, all the time?' He really can't help grinding down, not a jury in the world would convict him.

Harry grins up at him and hopes he looks like a right smug bastard. Apparently from the look of consternation on Draco's face, he has succeeded. Reaching one hand behind him, where his robes are still lying, he fishes around in his robes. 'Who says I'm not going to get my turn?' He procures the tiny little bottle--the fleeting thought crosses his mind, too little--and offers the lubricant to Draco. 'But hey, you're right, your card is punched, feel free to leave.'

'Your card is punched?' Draco repeats. 'Your card is pun - what kind of a bloody metaphor, honestly you Gryffindors, I cannot believe-' He grabs the bottle, smirks, upends it on his palm, kisses Harry fiercely and murmurs, 'Like I said. Inside every pushy little do-gooder is a screaming little nympho,' pushes Harry flat on his back and gasps 'Oh God Potter' before remembering himself, smirking and whispering, 'Ready to scream?'

'It's a muggle t--mmmph.' Harry is cut off by the kiss, and winds up at a loss for words, staring up at Draco with his eyes wide and full. He finds himself flat on his back with one arm tangled lazily around Draco and one fumbling behind him on the table, presumably to arrange his robes as a pillow for his head. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy,' he chuckles, his voice tinged with that post-coital daze just sharpening into lust all over again. 'We're doing something, but I don't think we have the same definition of 'good'.' He purrs the last word, hoping to send it right down Draco's spine.

Draco kisses Harry deep, and that seems more important than anything. It's so so good and Harry's making that mewling sound when Draco reaches down and in and there's stretching and that's all very very good, but in spite of the fact that they are both twisting and sweaty and naked, Harry kisses almost sweetly and would kiss hesitantly except, Draco can tell, for the desperation. And that's... touching, and he'll examine it later when he's not murmuring (where has the Malfoy dignity gone? where where where??) 'Oh God yes please oh, oh, oh, Potter' and he's in Potter and he's got his face turned against Potter's sweaty cheek and all he can say is 'oh' and 'Potter' over and over again.

Harry's head is swimming with fuzziness and light and, oh, what did Draco just do to him, and was that Draco's finger, just there, and his tongue so warm and soft like cream against his skin, and oh, oh, oh, there's something he is supposed to remember but what is it what was that, and did he just catch Malfoy, Malfoy, looking coy and shy and, oh, he has to say 'Malfoy yes just like that, hard, harder' because he needs it and, and, Oh. More. Parts of him are hurting and stinging and singing all at once. God, don't ever stop.

There's a rush of blood in Draco's ears and a long lean body arching up under him and Harry's voice is this low, sexy rasp which nobody in the entire school would identify as his and every inch of skin is covered in sweat and Draco can't stop. All he can do is thrust and close his eyes and open them again and look and then moan out 'Oh God yes Potter please' just one more time and then arch over and bite hard into the curve between Harry's neck and shoulder and shudder and shudder.

Harry can't close his eyes, closing his eyes would be too hard, and oh, what's easy is finding the spot where Draco is just that far deeper inside of him, just that closer than anybody else has ever been--what's easy is that every thrust yanks his body into Draco's like a puppet and he wants it just like that oh god-- and he says 'please' at the same time Draco does, and when Draco's teeth meet his flesh he winds himself around the body above him and stays there.

Draco trembles and just stays, lip caught on Harry's collarbone, shaking with the aftershock, practically shuddering with it and with Harry the aftershocks still feel like having so much sex, and there are black and purple images behind his eyelids. What price diction lessons now, Dad, he thinks as he lifts his sweaty head at last and says: 'Um.'

Thought, Harry is not thinking, there is a warm powerful body above him and in him and he doesn't know whose sweat is dripping down onto his throat and he wonders if maybe Draco was right about the nympho part because even though he can't move some renegade part of him just wants more and as he slowly begins to come down he thinks that maybe he could even have it if only the--

'Um.' says Draco.

--'Oh, fuck,' says Harry, sitting bolt upright and nearly knocking Draco off his lap.

'We just did!' Draco exclaims. 'Did you miss it?' Oh my God, sex with Harry Potter has him questioning his sexual prowess. Gryffindors drive you crazy and thus should be avoided, even if looking at you through sweaty strands of hair like frightened deer just begging to be - Draco stops himself, because deer thoughts are just not on.

Harry stares at him, blinking, trying dully to imagine that Draco isn't there looking like he wants some sort of explanation. 'Oh, fuck,' he says again, blankly, reaching behind him for his wand. It rests just within reach of his stupid fingertips, in his stupid robes, and how the hell is he going to get rid of that stupid look on Draco's face?

'Stop saying that please,' Draco says through his teeth. Holy God, where are his clothes? He can't stalk out of here naked. Filch could be out there. It is not safe for a personable young lad! 'Look,' he says furiously, 'this was your idea, in fact it was your vile blackmailing scheme, so stop acting like I just leaped on you and ravished your virgin brains out!'

Harry's not completely ignoring him, really, some of his brain is thinking he should really sit Draco down and snog him again, er, that is, give him some kind of explanation, but mostly he's just hoping against hope that he didn't just have the best shag of his life with Draco Malfoy only to have gotten nothing out of it.

He points his wand at Draco, and says hopefully, 'Wincentium?'

A puff of pink smoke fizzles from the end of it. He looks at Malfoy. 'Er. Bend over the table with your ass in the air.'

'You know what,' Draco says. 'I've had it! Go! Show the letter to Dumbledore. Really. He thought last week's was hilarious. He shakes his head and says, 'Tom always was a drama queen. You should see his old Transfiguration essays, he always wrote 'Dark Lord' on the top of the page.'

Harry stares at him. 'But--I thought--but, what? Wait a minute, you've been--but--what about the--then you're a-- .... Draco Malfoy, you ARSE! YOU'RE A BLOODY SPY?!! AND YOU'RE NOT MY LIFE-BONDED LOVE-SLAVE EITHER, ARE YOU?' >:0

'Stop sounding so bloody outraged, Potter,' Draco says grouchily. 'I'm really not very many people's life-bonded love slave. It's not a personal insult. Also, are you on crack?'

Harry crosses his arms and sulks. 'Hello? An hour ago I thought you were a DEATH EATER. As in, member of a horde of deranged baby-killing mass murderers! I was going to bind you over with a sex-bond spell to make you loyal to me--I mean, well, to Dumbledore--but.. wait, you're not just making me think you're a spy for Dumbledore now to win my trust and use me to spy for Voldemort, are you? I mean, no offense, considering we just shagged and all, but, considering we just SHAGGED and all, it seems like the sort of thing you would do!' He stiffens and waits warily for an answer.

'You can ask Dumbledore,' Draco says sulkily, leaning back on his elbows and looking like a pouting porn star, because Malfoys are bred for that. 'I'd suggest you put your pants on first. And you mean you had a noble and true reason to blackmail me into sex? Oh my God! Gryffindors have all the luck.'

Harry pouts too, and says feebly, 'Your pants are off too. And, yes, well. Don't think it was easy for me just because it was noble. He squinches his face into an imitation of disgust and slowly starts to pull his pants on again, clumsily averting his eyes.

'Oh fine,' Draco snaps. 'I simply wanted to get evidence of your absolute wickedness back to Dumbledore for the entertainment value. And now even that is ruined. So sorry to have detained you, where is my shirt?!'

'Fine,' Harry snaps back, feeling bloody awful and bloody well determined to not feel bloody awful, because it's just over bloody Malfoy anyway. 'We've each been totally heinous so Dumbledore can give us both awards for service above and beyond the call of bloody duty! I hope I get a bloody Merlin's Cross for having to shag you! And how the hell do I know where your shirt is? You didn't keep it on long enough to get it warm!'

'Well, someone was all set to forcibly ravish me up against a wall and I didn't want to get my clothes dirty!' Draco snaps. 'Believe me, you're not worth that. Go to hell, anyway, you free-will-stealing bastard, what were you planning to do with me once I was your love slave anyway? Earn the Merlin Cross every day or put me in a bloody glass case after the war!'

'Oh, very funny, Malfoy,' Harry snaps, rage overcoming his regret. 'You think I wanted to put that spell on you? You think I wouldn't rather have done anything else other than that to you, even though it's obvious you hate me and I should have jumped at the chance? I gave you the opportunity, Malfoy. I asked you to name one reason why I shouldn't go right ahead. And you never said a word. You can shag me but can't even tell the truth to get you from having to be blackmailed by your biggest enemy! God, what is wrong with you? And no, I wan't planning on earning a cross every--every day. I--' His cheeks burning, Harry cuts himself off. 'Just sod off.' He turns away to pull on his robes.

'Hang on,' Draco says. 'Stop. Er - not stop getting dressed, that is, entirely up to you. I mean - go back. I mean, don't go back to naked, I mean. I'm speaking verbally here.' He stops, trying to stare in horror at his own mouth, folds his arms and says, 'Exactly what did you mean by you should have jumped at the chance?'

Harry stops, completely, arm in one sleeve of his robes, half-dangling off of him. 'What do you mean, what do I mean?' he says sullenly, without turning around. '...It seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?'

Draco's mouth curls. 'Pretend that I'm Neville Longbottom, and you have to spell everything out. Except leave out the sex part, because... ugh... Longbottom...' He makes a face, and then fixes Harry with an imperious glare. His arrogant bearing does not falter even as he realises he cannot even find his underwear.

Harry's shoulders straighten in defensiveness, and he turns, glaring at Draco, a little of his former resolve returning now that the post-coital haze is gone. 'Well, let's see. You hate me. You've never been anything but terrible to me and everybody I care about. Your father is a complete and utter bastard, and I thought you were working as a Death Eater. After all the things you've done to me and all the things you've been?--I should have just done it without a second thought. The only thing that could possibly worse than having somebody like you bound to me for the rest of my life is watching you go on to hurt other people the way you always--' He shuts up and just settles on the glare.

'Oh,' Draco says moodily. 'I thought there was going to be a comment on my stunning good looks. All right, it's off, I hate you again, Potter! Moreover, among the things I've done now include risking my life and inheritance for the cause so shut your self-righteous yap about how nasty I am to you and for the love of God find me some item of clothing so we can both leave.'

Harry blinks at him. 'What do you mean, you hate me again?' He has a feeling he is yelling, but at the moment it doesn't much matter, does it?

Draco blinks. 'Well, you don't hate someone during an orgasm, do you?' he inquires. 'That'd be sick. Get your freak off, Potter!'

'You utter arse! You really did want it! You did want it and you still couldn't tell me the truth! I hate you! And I'm not self-righteous, you smarmy git! I'm pissed off because all you had to do was say, 'It's okay, Potter, I'm not really a Death Eater,' and that would have been it! We both could have turned around and left then without having to do all this!'

'Well at the time,' Draco says patiently, 'I thought you were being evil. And forcibly seducing me! I was not in possession of all the facts and it felt good to be the one in the right for once, and I'm sorry ALL THIS was such a trial, Potter, but you can just stop being a pissy baby because we can both just forget it ever happened, and are you happy now?'

All at once, Harry gets it. And his jaw drops and his eyes widen a little, and he says, tellingly, 'Oh. And then he shuts up and stares at the floor.

'Oh, thank Christ,' Draco says. Everything is all right now. He has found his pants. He begins to put them on quickly, and does not ask what 'oh' means.

'Good.' Harry sounds very small. He looks up, finds Draco pulling on his underwear, and looks quickly away again. 'Um.' he says. 'I didn't mean--well, okay. Just, theoretically, supposing I had done the spell and it, you know, it had worked.' He fumbles with the buttons on his trousers. 'Just supposing. I mean-- I guess... I guess I might have. You know. I might have.' His voice drops. 'I mighthavegonefortheOrderofMerlin.'

'You might have gone for stealing my free will and humiliating me forever? Yes, thanks, I got that,' Draco says, giving up on the test of his clothes. He is fine. It will do. He is out of here.

'That's not what I meant,' snaps Harry peevishly. 'Look, all I was saying was that I would have wanted to do it again. Christ, it's not like you have to take it so bloody personally--I mean, you said yourself it was just play, right?'

'Absolutely. That's all it was,' Draco says coldly. 'Really, Potter. You're a teenage boy. Of course you want to have sex again, Good for you. Someone pass this man an Order of Merlin. You have a complex going on where simple things mean you're a hero. Oooh, I Lived. Oooh, I Shagged. Oooh, Go Away.' He stands up, goes to the door, and prepares to face the world bare-chested.

Harry stares after him in growing horror and humiliation and a strong inexplicable compulsion to go block the door. 'Well, at least I'm not so bloody arrogant I can't even let my pride drop for one second,' he shoots back, hardly knowing what he is saying. 'If you hadn't just wanted sex to begin with you'd've just told me you were working for Dumbledore, but no, you couldn't do that because you're Draco Malfoy and you always have to do things the underhanded sneaky completely BACKHANDED kind of way. Ooh, I'm a Malfoy. Oooh, I'm Slytherin. Oooh, go sod yourself!'

Draco resists a strong urge to go seize Harry by the front of his shirt and shake him. 'If that was all there was to me,' he yells, 'Then we wouldn't be having this conversation, because I wouldn't have received that letter, and I did not intend to have sex! Sex on floors can give you PILES! I didn't know what was going on and I was playing along and amused and then it all went - and then it was - and then - things got out of hand!' (Actually, things had fitted in hand quite well, but that is entirely beside the point.)

In the back of his mind Harry realizes that he is staring at Draco's chest, but it's hardly relevant because he is also yelling, 'Then if that's what you want then why don't you just GO already, since you didn't want it and you were just playing along for a good time! You've had it, so just--just bloody well leave me alone!'

'I didn't say I didn't want it!' snaps Draco. 'I wasn't the one sacrificing myself on the altar of my noble cause! I--' Shut up, get out, tell the other Slytherins you're joining a quasi-nudist colony. Get out, Draco, before you make this worse! Draco opens the door.

'I--I--goddammit, Malfoy, what do you--alright, fine, you want an apology?! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I thought you were a Death Eater who was going to take over the world and that the only way I could defeat you was to have mad passionate sex with you in order to turn you into a sex slave, and I'm sorry that I was going to do it and I'm sorry that I enjoyed myself so much I forgot to do the spell--and I'm sorry I wanted to do it again! There! I'm sorry! Happy now?'

'Yes,' says Draco smugly. 'That was a compliment, right? That was basically you saying that I am stunning and good in bed, right? Of course I'm happy.' He closes the door part of the way and looks at Harry musingly. 'Don't be a spy, Potter,' he advises. 'Imagine it. Voldemort brings you off once and the whole plan falls into shambles. It'd be so embarrassing. Imagine the stories.' He pauses for another minute. 'I supposed the slave thing could have been worse,' he adds.

Harry glares fiercely at the door and Draco's hand on it, because the door is probably a better listener than Malfoy anyway, and maybe the door will understand that Malfoy can't just up and bloody leave just because he had the misfortune to be shagged by Harry Potter, and--wait, what? 'Wait, what?' He pushes up his glasses, which have been threatening to slide off the bridge of his nose for the last half hour at least, and takes a few steps forward towards Draco. What he thinks is: You're not really angry? All it takes to get on your good side is a few compliments? Why am I surprised? What he says is: 'Er. Are you going to put your shirt on?' and then, in his awkwardness, takes a few more steps.

'I can't find it,' Draco explains. 'I'm going to tell everyone I joined a quasi-nudist camp. Except for Filch. If I see him I'm just going to run. Throw the cat at him and run.' He wonders why Harry is smiling at him in that funny way, crooked as his glasses.

'Filch has a lot of enemies. He'd never know it was you.' Harry's brain seems to be really stuck on 'Yes,' and 'could have been worse.' He wonders if Malfoy would mind so much this time if he tried to touch his hair. 'Are you really risking your life to spy for Dumbledore?'

'No,' says Draco, 'I'm risking my life because I compared the offers and he gives you these little sweets. They're so good. I just had to join the side of light for a lemon sherbet.' He smiles a little. 'Well, perhaps there were a few other factors. But it was mainly the sherbet.'

'Sounds to me like you got a good deal,' says Harry, moving just that much closer and then stopping because he feels like he shouldn't be the one making all the moves, God, I'm so easy, what has Malfoy done to me? 'I mean, all those lemons. Any time you want. Just there for the taking.'

'Potter. Are you coming on to me or are you, like, sexually attracted to sherbet lemons?' Draco looks apprehensive. 'Because I've had enough shocks today.' They're just sugary and delicious, he thinks. They're not all that great. Huh.

'Well, you never know, Malfoy,' smirks Harry. 'I'm a teenage boy, we're attracted to anything that moves. Are you sure you wouldn't say no to a sherbet lemon if it was served with a really hot guy ala carte?'

Draco backs away. 'I think we just established that I can't say no to sherbet lemons when offered by living prunes,' he says warily. 'Well. Potter. Nice to, um, bond with you over sweets, and being on the side of truth and justice and non-Dementor-kissedness. And, all that sex. So. I'll see you around.'

Surprised, Harry advances. 'Malfoy, nobody's making you eat the sherbet lemon, just like nobody's making you stand here talking about sherbet lemons, so I don't know why you're suddenly acting so wary of sherbet lemons, when I think we both know that you're secretly nuts over the idea of sherbet lemons or you wouldn't have bothered to taste one in the first place! And, yeah, it was nice to bond with you too! Maybe next time we can bond over pumpkin juice!'

'Potter. You astonishingly verbally incompetent freak. Do you have a thing for me or a thing for sherbet lemons? Don't even get me started on the pumpkin juice. Does that mean threesomes? Does it mean threesomes with a Weasley?!' Draco stares in abject fear.

'What? No! Why would I want a threesome with Ron and a lemon pop?!'

' I don't know,' Draco says in a low voice. 'Why would you want to introduce that image to my brain?'

By this time, Harry is within arm's length of Draco. He pauses. 'Gee,' he says gently. 'Maybe because as horrid as it is it still beats the image of you just wanting to shag the living daylights out of me for the one-time's sake.'

'Aha!' Draco says triumphantly. 'So it is me. Not the sherbet lemons!' Take that, wanton confectionary.

'You didn't really think I was talking about the confectionary, did you?'

'It's been a weird night,' Draco says. 'I think I would like to stop being verbal for a bit. Since you have such a mad crush on me,' he adds graciously, 'you can help with that.'

'It's amazing,' Harry responds, stepping into his arms. 'You can be direct and straightforward. How do you propose I help, exactly?'

'I'm always direct and straightforward, sherbetlover,' Draco retorts. 'Well. Actually, I have several suggestions.'

'Really? Do any of them involve a wine bottle, a mop, and a tub of oysters?'

'Oh Jesus God,' says Draco, part in terror and part in awe. 'Shut up.'

It is at this point that he kisses Harry, very forcefully, and smiles as an excuse to get him to smile back, so Draco can slip him the tongue.

The End